A/N: WOOT! I'm on a fanfic roll this Christmas. Out of all the books I've read and anime I've watched, KitXNita is probably one of my all time favorite couples. (i just wish the young wizards section got a little more traffic). I was about ready to shoot myself at the end of the nineth book, when the two of them finally hooked up . . . on the last page. GAHH, it left us with no glimpse of anything. So I'm desperately waiting for a tenth book. I swear, if it starts out with the two of them having relationship problems (which is so typical of some books) Diane Duane is going to have some explaining to do.
This takes place between the fourth and fifth book, during the summer. I wish we could have been treated to more Kit jealousy in the fourth book, to be honest.
Kit, to be frank, was deeply concerned.
So concerned that he barely noticed his clock, which blinked 3:23 in bright red letters, as he paced the room. So concerned that he had been doing said pacing for several hours. So concerned that he had been pacing at ungodly hours of the night while clinging to certain picture and staring at it with all his might, willing the bloody thing to spill some answers.
And no, Kit was not a stalker.
What could possibly lead someone to believe that?
After all, there was nothing essentially wrong with sneaking a picture of his best friend's "love interest" for future reference/pacing purposes, right?
Especially not after he "accidentally overheard" what happened that night in Ireland when he wasn't there. Because it really was an accident.
With a groan, Kit collapsed in his chair and slapped the admittedly fuzzy picture on his desk (he had taken the picture in a hurry, so it hadn't had time to focus properly). He turned on his small lamp, and then quickly apologized when the lamp complained of him yanking on the cord harder than necessary. But the apology was distant, distracted. His thoughts were elsewhere.
"He's not even her type! What does she see in him?" he asked. And when nothing, inanimate or otherwise, answered him, Kit leaned back and ran his hands through his hair vigorously. "It's no good. I don't approve of this!" And he folded his arms in a huff, as if that was that.
And no, Kit was not possessive.
He was merely concerned of his best friend's welfare.
"He's such a stuckup-emo-punk-depressing freak," Kit muttered to himself, solely for the purpose of comforting himself even though he hardly knew what he was saying. "Not to mention Irish. I mean, Irish men are pretty loose with women, aren't they? Or is that just alcohol? Aghh, I don't know!"
Frantically, Kit snatched up the picture again and held it an inch or two from his face. Slowly, reluctantly, he dragged his eyes over to the small mirror propped up against the wall in order to make comparisons. "What does he have that I don't?" he mumbled, trying to ignore how desperate and pathetic his voice sounded in the quiet room.
And no, most important of all, Kit was not jealous. Because he was not in love with the person who was just supposed to be a partner. Partners did not mean "romantically involved." That was the worst misassumption to make.
And the most painful.
Not that Kit would know.
He squinted back and forth at his reflection and the fuzzy picture of Ronan. "Mmm, he's pretty pale . . . but who wants to be mistaken for a gay sparkly vampire? And check out all that black he wears . . . not to mention how tight it is. Sure Carmela calls me a pansy sometimes, but at least I don't wear that." Kit fell quiet for a moment, thinking deeply. "We both have dark hair, but of course his is . . ." Kit trailed off, and suddenly he sat up in complete alert. The answer to all of his problems now dawned on him amidst a chorus of angel hymns. It was so simple, really. How could he ever have overlooked it?
"That's got to be it!" Kit declared in a hushed tone, mindful of his sister who was sleeping next door. "Ronan's charm lies in . . . his long hair!"
Kit abandoned the picture and took to solely appraising the boy in the mirror. His hair was much the same as it had been for years. Short. Neat and tidy. But in the eyes of a teenage girl, potentially boring, he was sure of it.
Because though Kit was no stalker, and though he wasn't possessive or jealous, he was first and foremost a girl expert.
Well . . . he thought so anyway.
But then all the excitement drained out of him and made his shoulders sag. Growing out his hair would take weeks, months! Not to mention he would constantly have to be on the lookout of his Mama sneaking in a scissors attack (she couldn't stand the long hair look, hence why Kit had kept it decently short for so long. it was a battle he'd rather not have to face).
"There's no hope!" Kit moaned dramatically before slumping over on his desk—which probably wasn't the smoothest idea. On the way down, he wound up bumping his nose against his wizard's manual pretty hard. With a hiss of aggravation, he rubbed his throbbing nose and threw a glare at his manual.
Wait . . . the manual.
The angel chorus was back.
Kit flipped the book open and rapidly flipped through the pages. No . . . no . . . wait, there! It was all laid out for him, right there. A devilish grin crossed Kit's face. After whispering a few words, he turned out the light.
"I just don't understand it!"
"Mama," Kit sighed as he helped unload the luggage.
But his mother continued to rant. Kit more or less tuned her out, focusing on not dropping all of Carmela's (unnecessary) suitcases. Once he dropped them off in the living room, he stopped to take off his hat, wipe the sweat off his forehead, and replaced the hat.
Hey, Kit! said an all too familiar voice in his head.
A little too happily, Kit grinned. I'm back, Neets.
About time! It stinks that your family went to the beach right after I came back from Ireland.
Yeah, but now we shouldn't have any more interruptions. We can finally start on some of our summer projects before school. But first . . . Kit reluctantly made his way back to the car. Any chance you feel like unloading the car in my place?
He could hear the background noise of Nita laughing. Not a chance. But I'll come over in about five.
Sounds good.
Kit focused on grabbing some more luggage, automatically tuning out his mother again. She's always a little short tempered when we come back from a trip anyway. But he sighed, wondering if it was even worth wearing his hat at this point.
By the time the car was unloaded and Kit was fanning himself off in the kitchen, he heard the pop of displaced air, and then Nita walked through the door.
"What's up, Kit?" Nita said, ambling into the kitchen with a smile.
Grinning right back, Kit reached into his fridge and tossed her one of her favorite lemon sodas. "Just being worked to death. Just because I'm the only wizard in the family, it's apparently okay to make me do menial work."
Nita laughed.
"Well now, I've never heard you complain before," Kit's mother said, standing in the doorway and folding her arms. "Must be a rebellious stage."
Nita flashed Kit a look and waggled her eyebrows. "Kit? Rebellious?"
"It must be!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "Dios mios. Have you even seen his hair?"
"Mama!" Kit hissed.
"Hair?"
"Go on. Take the hat off, Kit."
"But Mama, I—"
The hard look his mother gave him silenced him. With an aggrieved sigh, Kit took off the hat. He ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times self-consciously, and he nervously waited for Nita's response.
At first she said nothing, only speculated Kit for a moment. Finally, "I guess it is a little longer," she remarked.
Truthfully, it was only a couple inches longer. He had been too chicken to really make it as long as Ronan's. But his mother huffed and muttered, "It is! I have no idea how it grew so fast." (Kit winced a little. The tone of her voice suggested that she knew exactly how it grew, and she didn't approve) "But he said that he doesn't feel like cutting it. He hates cutting his hair so soon before school starts. But it just looks so awful and—" On and on his mother went.
Nita was still staring at Kit, as if she was still sizing the new look up. Then she did something that nearly made Kit's heart stop. She reached over and fingered a lock of his hair, which had started to curl ever so slightly due to the extra length. The corner of her mouth turned up so slightly, and she said, "I kinda like it."
"Oh gross," Carmela teased, popping her head in the kitchen just for a moment so Kit could see her roll her eyes, but then she skipped off again as Kit's ears began to turn red.
No, partners did not mean "romantically involved." And Kit certainly was not in love with the person who was just supposed to be a partner.