EXCALIBUR
Warning: Good Habits May Be Hazardous to Your Love Life
Luba Kmetyk
DISCLAIMER:
Pryde and Wisdom and Excalibur are trademarks of Marvel Comics. John and Ellie are trademarks of DC/Vertigo Comics. Mentioned explicitly by name or not, Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, while Trevor and Amanda Dillon, Janet Green, Hayley Chandler and Will Cooney belong to ABC/All My Children. This story is an unauthorized work done purely for my personal enjoyment, and not intended to infringe on any of their rights in or profits from these characters. But this story is copyright to me.
WARNING:
There is no explicit sex in this story (snicker), but a lot of innuendo about sexual matters and some bits of bad language. So be warned...
BRIEF EXPLANATION:
I started this series soon after Excalibur #92 (Pete vs Pete), and have made no effort to keep this within more recent Marvel continuity. In particular, I am ignoring the whole Onslaught/Dark Xavier mess, and Dark Beast, also. Xavier in this story may be dark, but it's his own fault; I don't accept Onslaught as an excuse for Xavier to act like a jerk. I'm treating Logan as basically normal, I just don't feel up to writing feral Wolverine. I'm also ignoring Betsy and the Crimson Whatever. I've also ignored a lot of little things Ellis has done with Pryde and Wisdom since then, not because I don't accept them (I revere Ellis as gospel), but it would involve too much minor revision. And, of course, *everything* post-Ellis is banished to the nethermost regions.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
I'd like to thank Suzie, Denise, DuAnn and Lynx for their help with this. More detailed acknowledgements at the end, so as not to spoil the story.
MISCELLANEOUS:
This is one story in a series of loosely-plotted stories entitled "Idylls of the Cat" that are mostly Pryde and Wisdom, and the others' reaction to Kitty's new relationship. Most of the stories in the series are not action or adventure, they're mainly sex and/or conversations, like this one. Other stories in the series so far include
- The Day After the Night Before (Pryde&Wisdom)
- Vigil (Excalibur)
- Pulling their Fat out of the Fire (Excalibur/Hellblazer)
- Time Goes By (Excalibur)
- Bearing Tidings of Joy (Excalibur/Storm)
- You Can't Go Home Again (Excalibur/X-men)
- Close Encounters of the Lethal Kind (Excalibur/X-men/DV8/Hellblazer)
- Warning: Good Habits May Be Hazardous to Your Love Life (Excalibur)
- What God Has Joined Together (Pryde&Wisdom/X-Files)
- Drugs, Spies and Videotape (Pryde&Wisdom/Puck/Rocky&Bullwinkle)
- All Nice and Gift-Wrapped (Pryde&Wisdom)
- Strawberry Shortcake (Pryde&Wisdom)
- Dark Reflections (Excalibur/Black Air)
- The Shadow of A Starless Night (X-men/Excalibur)
- The Glow of a Starlit Dawn (Pryde&Wisdom)
- Misplaced Pryde (Hellfire Club/X-Men/Hellions/New Mutants/Black Air/Excalibur)
These stories can all be found on my own webpage at http://home.att.net/~lubakmetyk/
If you want to comment, send email to LubaKmetyk@worldnet.att.net
Prologue
It was another dismal gray day, with thick low clouds and a chill wind sweeping inland. However, ensconced at his favorite table in a quiet corner of the Chalk and Cheese, Pete Wisdom was about as happy as he could remember being, despite the local weather conditions. He'd convinced his girl to stay in bed for a long, leisurely romp that morning and then, once they'd finally gotten up, he'd also talked her into flying over to the mainland for a late brunch at the local pub. On average he would have expected to win one or the other point; getting his way on both had made his day.
Now, sitting next to the small fire crackling merrily in the nearby hearth, he lit yet another cigarette, sighed happily and relaxed. When he'd stopped off at the bar to pick up the thick pile of newspapers Jack Crossan shipped in for him every day, the innkeeper had muttered sotto voce that no strangers had been spotted anywhere in the area -- at least as reported by the extremely efficient local gossip chain, which was much more reliable and thorough than any official intelligence service Pete had ever known.
While her lover browsed his way through the papers as methodically as he worked his way through the heavily laden plates Jack's niece Annie kept bringing to the table, Kitty listened to his rambling recital of various odd news items that caught his eye, although only her long experience let her understand his frequently incoherent mumbles as his mouth was usually full while he was speaking. And those few times his mouth was -- briefly -- empty were normally reserved for loud diatribes against whatever the government and its head politicians might be up to at the moment, often delivered to scattered spates of applause and grunted agreement from the appreciative locals, many of whom'd taken to stopping by on the off-chance of witnessing yet another entertaining performance from the displaced Londoner they were starting to accept as a local fixture.
Familiarity had in no wise dulled Kitty's appalled fascination with Wisdom's eating habits and, this morning as at so many other times, she sipped at a glass of orange juice, listened, and watched.
A bowl of fried porridge emptied rapidly while he flipped through the Sun -- which wouldn't have been that bad, actually, except for the addition of half the contents of a large salt cellar and the entire contents of a jug of clotted cream. The resultant gray/white/brown mixture reminded Kitty to at least be grateful Pete didn't usually get drunk enough to throw up the way Brian used to.
Several scones with strawberry preserves liberally smeared on them vanished with the Times, while a plate of bangers and mash came and went with the Guardian, and eggs and bacon rashers got devoured together with the Telegraph -- except for the bits of runny yolk now added to the other stains on his stringy black tie and wrinkled white shirt.
This particular morning it was the Express whose turn it apparently was to irritate Pete enough that he left off devouring Annie's delicious bounty and concentrated on his drink, grabbing it back from his girlfriend who'd been idly studying the colorful cockerel on a crutch that was Cripple Cock's label. He drained the bottle without pausing for breath and lifted it to signal for another, then sat back with a replete burp and lit another cigarette, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his red- cheeked companion trying not to squirm in embarrassment, "Right then, Pryde, that should get me strength back up fer some more exercise this afternoon, if you want t' mebbe work out with me a couple more times..."
Kitty tried hard never to nag at him in public over his habits or his behavior beyond a bit of gentle teasing -- her friends did enough of that on their own and she never wanted him to feel she was siding against him. But in private, by themselves, was another matter. "Pete, really... That horrible stuff you eat can't possibly be good for you... and you *know* drinking and smoking is bad for your health." She paused as he glared at her, then continued placatingly, "I don't want to ruin your fun, really -- I just want you to live a long and healthy life so we can go on having fun together for a long long time to come..."
"So you really want me t' reform all me filthy habits, Pryde? Yer wrong, y' know, that *would* take all the fun out o' life..."
Part 1
The faint predawn light coming through the window woke Kitty, as it usually did. She shifted in the large bed, turning over from their spoon position to wrap her arms around the warm male body snuggled so cozily against her, only to find vivid blue eyes open and staring back at her.
"Mornin', love." Pete bent to drop a kiss on the tip of her nose, then pushed the covers back. "You want the shower first, while I shave, or you want t' lay about a bit longer while I wash up?"
"Well, I thought we might stay in bed for a bit," she suggested in a low, dulcet tone, as soon as she recovered yet again from the continued shock of not having to coax or drag her lover out of bed every morning. It had been a while since they'd indulged in a morning loving or lie-in, and Kitty found she missed that part of their old routine.
But her boyfriend had already stood up, before she could tighten her hold on him, and was walking across the room to open their window further. "Right, then, I'll go first," he tossed over his shoulder, agreeably.
Kitty sniffed the air suspiciously, for any faint, lingering trace of cigarette smoke that he was trying to air out through the wide-open window he usually insisted stay shut to keep the horrid fresh air out, but there was no sign he'd broken his promise. "Wait a sec, Pete, we can shower together..." she called out, after his receding form -- as soon as she recovered the wits scattered by the rear view so temptingly on display. She scrambled out of the bed, as he ambled toward the bathroom.
"Sure, love, you want I should wash yer back... an' yer hair?" He paused and helped her into the roomy shower stall solicitously, and she leaned against him comfortably as he shampooed her thick chestnut hair, then squirmed around in pleasure while he was scrubbing her back, careful to get all those hard-to-reach places. Then Kitty returned the favor, as usual -- but, to her unvoiced dissatisfaction, washing each other didn't lead to other forms of hands-on water sports, as it usually did.
Getting dressed, she asked temptingly, "You want to sneak over to the mainland and grab some breakfast at the pub?" She glanced outside at the rising sun just appearing on the horizon, and added, a bit dubiously, "If Jack's got the Chalk and Cheese open this early, that is..."
Wisdom was already dressed, and waiting at the door. "Nah. We can just grab a bite here, with the others. The food's a lot better."
When they got to the kitchen, the only others there were Brian and Meggan. The brawny hulk was sitting at the table, perusing some reports his stockbroker had sent; the delicate elemental was setting the table while burbling about assorted wedding plans to her cringing fiance.
"Mornin'." Wisdom headed for the refrigerator and his head and upper body disappered from view.
"What... Wisdom?" Startled, Braddock dropped his papers. "Meggan, I'm sorry, I didn't think these papers would take so long..." he glanced up at the wall clock, "and they didn't. Wisdom, what are you doing here so early, confusing people?" Turning toward Kitty where she was searching through the shelves, Brian smirked, "Did he lose a bet of some sort?"
Pete was over at one of the counters now, with half a dozen eggs, carefully separating out the egg yolks and setting them aside. "Nah, just don't want t' waste the whole soddin' day cooped up an' witherin' away. So, you up fer a rousin' game o' football, or you want t' teach me t' play cricket, or somethin'?"
He didn't get any answer, because Kurt and Amanda walked in at that moment -- and because the other Englishman's mouth had dropped wide open in amazement. Instead, Meggan called out, "I want to make a fruit salad this morning, but I can't find the bananas or strawberries or melon. Did someone eat them?"
Using his egg whites to make up a tomato and mushroom omelet, Pete replied absently, "Yeah, sorry, Meg -- I ate all that stuff yesterday..."
Kitty was shaking an upended box of muesli over her bowl, her only reward a few lone crumbs. "I could have sworn this box was half-full yesterday."
Transferring his breakfast to a plate, Pete mumbled, "Yeah, well... sorry, love, I ate all yer friggin' birdseed yesterday too..." He glanced up in time to see his girlfriend heading for the refrigerator. "Err... if yer lookin' fer yer juice, Kit, see, I sort o' drank it all..." He gave her a noticably weak grin, and held out his fork with a small helping of omelet on it. "You want some o' my brekker? It's bloody good muck, all vegan an' none o' that cholesterol-full runny yolk..."
While Kitty accepted the peace offering, muttering through her scowl, "I think you mean vegetarian, Wisdom -- or am I eating an alien lifeform? Because I certainly seem to be living with one..." the two newcomers had started assembling their own meal -- or trying to.
"Anybody seen my blueberry yogurt?" Amanda stood with hands propped on her shapely hips, glaring at the open refrigerator as if it had gobbled her supplies.
Kitty, Meggan and Brian all turned to stare at the rumbled figure stuffing omelet in his face. "Umm... yeah, well, see, Sefton... I got hungry yesterday..."
Tail reaching over the irritated sorceress's shoulder, Wagner snagged a hefty chunk of bratwurst that had apparently not met the Londoner's new standards for edibility, then retreated with his own meal to the corner furthest from the former spy, to eye him with considerable trepidation. "Katzchen, I believe it would be politic of you to take Herr Wisdom upon a foraging expedition to the mainland today."
The blue-furred team leader expected a howl of anguished protest at being ordered to go shopping, but Pete just pushed his empty plate aside and stood up to grab his lady by the hand and pull her toward the door. And Kitty was so distracted by Pete's "Hey, mebbe we can get th' makin's o' that all-organic shite th' mother-in-law-from-hell made us back when, remember, Kit?" that she almost missed Brian muttering to Kurt, "Are we absolutely sure there isn't another dimensional warp, in Moira's basement? Because I could swear that man is from an alternate reality."
Walking the narrow streets, Kitty kept looking over her shoulder, mumbling, "No covert government agents ambushing us, no smart-mouth mercs attacking us, no cars trying to run us over (deliberately) as far as I can tell, no bombs planted in our shopping bags, no stupid muggers looking for easy marks, no aliens hunting for dinner... not even a little sweet old lady wanting her kitty rescued -- or a barmy old biddy wanting her liger cub -- after it got stuck up a tree. *They* all realize Pete here isn't himself, Maybe he's an alien clone -- if good people have evil clones, then evil old gits like him must have clones who are too good to be true. Or he's turned into a pod-person, or a mind-controlled zombie, or a victim of some awful nameless curse..."
Normally, she'd just relax and enjoy this rare shopping expedition, because she knew the chronically paranoid Wisdom was keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings, even as his equally habitual grousing served her as a human equivalent of a Walkman. But this time, packhorse Pete followed along dutifully behind her, lugging bags filled with their loot from the old bookseller's they'd just left, alternating soothing "Relax, Kitty, yer the one always tellin' me goin' fer walks is good, an' frettin' an' gettin' mad ain't healthy" with half-hearted grumbling "Wot kind o' damn soddin' pathetic bookdealer ain't got th' latest Hunter Thompson, then?"
Rather than complaining about being sent off shopping with her, Pete had cheerfully loaded up several carts with fresh fruits and vegetables, yogurts, milk and cheeses, organic cereals and juices, herbal teas and vitamin supplements at the local market. Afterwards, Kitty had fully expected to be dragged off -- not too reluctantly, she'd have to admit -- to at least one lingerie shop and pub, as his just reward for Nightcrawler assigning them this tedious chore, but Wisdom hadn't brought up either as a possible stop.
Instead, he'd followed her meekly enough through several different stores while Kitty looked for new sneakers, then let her get him a new pair of shoes and several new shirts -- although he'd shown more than a hint of his habitual stubbornness insisting on his same old style in plain white cotton. Pete had absolutely balked at buying any new suits, though, "not unless I can stock up on some more of me usual back in London, from Gilly's place."
It was a crumb, a faint shadow of his usual abrasive self, but Kitty was willing to settle for crumbs by now. In an increasingly determined effort to get him back to his familiar bitching and moaning, she began hitting every shop that looked even vaguely interesting, but Pete hadn't even protested all that much while she dragged him through several gift boutiques in her seeming perpetual search for the perfect wedding gift -- although he did mutter a touch rebelliously that "we should just get Meggan a choke chain an' muzzle fer her soon-to-be 'official' full-time problem... an' a book on 'Slender is Better'... which reminds me..."
That last remark sent Kitty's hopes soaring that some more flattering observations (or at least some lewd crude leers) on her own modest charms might follow, but no such luck. Instead, Pete suddenly turned and dragged her into a local pet shop they were passing. For a moment, Kitty wondered if he had been serious about getting Meggan a collar and leash for Brian. Then she caught her breath at the wild thought that he might have gotten inspired to buy one for her, remembering how she'd been turned on by his collaring her once in one of their more unique encounters. Flushing at her own reflex physical response to the mere idea, Kitty began debating whether she should get one for *him*, to see if chaining her recently platonic boyfriend to the bed might have the same arousing effect on him.
Back on Muir with the shopping all put away, Wisdom was sitting on the floor by the bed, trying to coax Kitty's pet dragon into coming out. "Oi there, you little winged plonker -- I ain't lookin' t' throw you out, I just want me clothes back." Lockheed had dragged several of Pete's suits and shirts under the bed yet again, where he'd piled them into a comfortable nest on which he sprawled, gnawing on one of the Englishman's brand-new shoes. "Look, dragon, Kit's always after me bum t' clean up in 'ere, so gimme a break an' gimme me clobber. See, I got you some felchin' good stuff when we was in town..."
A small purple snout highlighted with bright beady eyes and sharp gleaming fangs appeared slowly, as Pete kept dangling a catnip mouse on a string in one hand while he held out a palmful of cat treats in the other. After pausing first for a careful look around the room, to be sure they were alone, the small alien growled "I ain't no stupid cat, yoo stupid git..."
"Well, they was all out o' dragon treats an' rat chow an' suchlike," reasonably, "so you got t' settle fer wotever I could find. Although I suppose I could call that Mulder loon an' ask him fer some alien feed -- but he'd just jump on th' next plane over t' try t' arrest you so his lady partner could dissect you -- or I could mebbe get John t' ask Ellie fer some demon chow, if you'd rather..."
Slinking forward slightly, still checking for possible eavesdroppers, Pete's personal nemesis eyed him suspiciously. "Wot ya up ta, stinky?"
"Hey, mate, just tryin' t' make friends." Wisdom plastered a wounded expression on his thin, dark-shadowed face. "Pryde wants us t' get along, right?"
Cautiously, Lockheed slithered out even further into the open. "Yoo wanna be friends, stinky? Gimme yer fags, then..."
Pete shrugged. "I gave 'em all t' Pryde, remember?" He shook the string so the catnip mouse danced right under the small dragon's face. "So, you want t' play nice?" The answering snort of raging flame almost incinerated the proffered cat toy and his fingers both, but long practice let Pete snatch his hand back just in time. "Ok, mate, be like that." He dropped the ignored cat treats back into the open bag, then studied the rejected fuzzy pink plaything. "Be a shame t' waste all this, though -- mebbe I'll pick us up a cat next time we go shoppin'..."
"Kit not need no stupid cat!" Lockheed spat out jealously. "You bring cat, I have snack..."
"Nah, I know she's got you already," said so placatingly that his rival for Kitty's undivided attention just *knew* he was up to something, "but you know she wouldn't let you munch on no little puss. But Meggan or Rahney might want one..." Wisdom shook his head, muttering on to himself as Lockheed retreated back to his hidden nest with his fangs sunk into the other new shoe, "Nah, mebbe givin' a wolf a moggy ain't such a soddin' great idea -- but I bet Meggie *would* like one, mebbe a nice sweet little mackerel striped tabby or somethin' else cute an' pathetic-lookin'..."
Kitty glanced around the small, cheerfully decorated room set up to provide preschool childcare for members of Rahne's church. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but -- from the young werewolf girl's past descriptions of her nightmare upbringing under Reverend Craig's strict tutelage -- it had been something bare and bleak, dark and dour. But the only thing harsh and gloomy here was the weather outside, the constant drizzle cutting the afternoon light to a pale gray glow in the small windows scattered around.
Inside, the room was painted a cheerful daisy yellow, with bright green and blue and pink trim around the doors and windows matching the sturdy, hand-crafted, child-sized, painted chairs and tables, toychests and bookcases. Religious pictures showing Christ playing with children, helping Joseph in his carpenter shop and tending a flock of sheep mingled with others depicting assorted animal menageries on Noah's ark, all with a bright rainbow arching overhead, were hung on the walls, together with the children's own art projects. Only the floor covering was a drab dirty beige, worn almost threadbare with repeated washing and scrubbing; Rahne had explained, a bit apologetically, that frequent spills and other messes made anything else impractical.
Kitty really didn't notice the worn carpeting at all, however; her big brown eyes were riveted a foot or so above it, where her boyfriend -- the normally irrascible Pete Wisdom -- sat on the floor, jacket discarded, shirtsleeves rolled up, tie askew, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling tots all fighting him for their choice of the crayons scattered on the floor around them as they busily colored in illustrations of various biblical scenes which Rahne had handed out earlier, squealing in mock-fear at his mock-threats whenever they got up the courage to reach up and try to touch the gold foil-paper crown set rakishly on his thick black hair, the crown he'd won just a few moments ago by correctly identifying and reciting all the verses going with all those illustrations.
Her boyfriend, whom Kitty loved deeply and knew to be a much nicer person at heart than he acted, but who often said that all bloody rugrats should have been drowned at birth (himself included), had volunteered them to help Rahne with her preschool class when she'd worried that their usual teacher had fallen ill and she'd be on her own because there wasn't enough time for Sam to fly over. Up until now, the only tot Wisdom had ever had a good word for was Amanda Dillon, a cute little blonde pixie who was the daughter of Trevor Dillon, one of his old merc friends -- and of a woman who had first thrown her own sister down an abandoned well in order to steal her life and marry her sister's fiance, and then later bludgeoned another man (her husband's niece's husband, of whom Trevor did not approve) to death in a decidedly nontraditional effort to keep Trevor happy. And, in her most cynical moments, Kitty wondered if Pete was just curious to see if the infamous Crowbar Killer's genes bred true.
Kitty didn't know if she should worry less or more that Pete's... intimate... behavior toward her wasn't the only thing that seemed changed about him since he'd promised to try to reform his assorted bad habits. However, from the shellshocked look on Rahne's face, Kitty wasn't the only one getting worried about her man's wellbeing, mental as well as physical.
The young werewoman came over, to ask quietly "Sae, Kitty, do ye ken how Mr Wisdom knew all th' pictures, chapter and verse?"
"I asked him that. He told me his father made them all memorize the Bible," Kitty replied in an equally low voice. "Well, it sure seems to have made the kids accept him..." The children had been wary, indeed, of the thin dark Englishman with his foreign accent and his gruff manner when they'd first arrived. But they'd relaxed, giggling, when Wisdom had solemnly allowed Rahne to set his hard-won crown on his head, then waggled his eyebrows at his small, wide-eyed competitors and smirked, "See, even an English devil can quote Scripture to his own advantage."
Part 2
The rain was still coming down in a steady drizzle during the short boat ride back over to Muir Island. "C'me 'ere, Pryde." Wisdom pulled her close, wrapping his worn old trenchcoat around both of them to shield her from the continuing downpour. Kitty plastered herself against him without any further prompting needed, reveling in the warmth of his hard, wiry body pressed against hers, and the comforting sound of his heartbeat next to her ear.
The only problem was, he just didn't smell right anymore. The long black coat wasn't the problem -- the various odors ingrained in the shabby old leather were the same as ever -- but the shirt she'd buried her face in smelled of fabric softener and, when she stretched up to nuzzle and lick at his neck just above the loosened black tie, the strong scent of his favorite cheap aftershave wasn't mixed with equal traces of nicotine and alcohol. He didn't smell right, and he didn't taste right, either.
Then, his other arm still embracing her, Pete reached up with one hand to brush her thick hair back on one side. Kitty wondered if Rahne's church would consider it inappropriate for her to pray her lover was going to whisper an obscene proposal for their next activity into her ear, but instead she heard him shout over the motor's chugging, "When we get in, I think I'll go see if Braddock or Wagner want t' work out with me."
"I'll be happy to work out with you, Wisdom. We can practice our fighting moves..." The rest of the team might joke that the two of them spent all their time together on only one activity -- at least until now, she thought sourly -- but they held frequent if informal sparring matches too, which had proven mutually beneficial. Wisdom taught her hand-to-hand techniques from British Services drills, she showed him martial arts moves in return, they shared favorite dirty tricks culled from Logan's vast repertoire and, as a bonus, Pete contributed a few things he'd picked up from Domino that were new to Kitty. She knew she could get her hands on him in a number of creative ways in quite a few interesting places in a training match; they'd quickly learned to lock the gym, after more than one sparring session had led to other types of physical involvement.
"Nah, I know you want t' get back t' work on the mad witchdoctor's data base, love. Besides, yer the one told me back when it'd be good fer team dynamics fer me t' spend more time with them wankers."
Amanda strolled into Kitty's computer lab, to find the younger girl curled up in a tight little ball in the large, contoured, black leather executive chair Pete had bought and had shipped in for her. The blonde sorceress watched in considerable bemusement, as Kitty reached out to dip her fingers in a brimful glass sitting on her desk and then sprinkle drops over a white piece of fabric she held in her lap. "Hi, Kitty. What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to fix up Pete's shirt. It doesn't smell right. *He* doesn't smell right. I can't fix him, but I can fix his shirt..." Kitty grabbed the glass and took a sudden gulp of something that smelled very alcoholic even from a distance -- probably Pete's Scotch, or Moira's, if Amanda had to guess, as she pounded Kitty on the back helpfully when the younger girl choked on the liquor burning its way down her throat.
"What are you going to do with it when you get it smelling right?" Amanda asked gently, more than a bit perturbed as she watched Kitty pick up a cigarette smoldering in a can-lid on her desk and wave it around the rumpled, stained shirt.
"I'm going to cry into it." The sorceress nodded slowly at Kitty's matter-of-fact comment. She'd wondered if the tears glistening damply on Kitty's cheeks were due only to alcohol and smoke fumes, but she went on pretending not to notice.
"I'm getting kinda freaked too, you know. I took Kurt and Pete some beer and some Reuben sandwiches I'd made up just the way Kurt likes them, with corned beef and melted cheese and sauerkraut and dill pickles, so the boys could break for a snack while Kurt was trying to teach Pete fencing, and Pete wouldn't even touch them -- he asked me for some mineral water and fruit salad instead." Amanda pantomined an exaggerated look of shock.
"Yeah, Pete promised me he'd try to reform all his bad habits, and eat only healthy food and not drink or smoke and get some real exercise outside of us just fooling around, and he's really keeping his promise." Kitty didn't sound proud or pleased, though, she sounded despondent.
"Well, his exercise regime needs some work," the strawberry blonde smirked. "Pete's going to be all black and blue, the way Kurt's slamming him around with that practice saber, and it's Pete's own fault -- he tried using one of his giant hotknives like a light-saber and sliced through one of Kurt's favorite swords, and Fuzzy's furious."
"Good!" Amanda raised her eyebrows at the ill-concealed rancor in Kitty's voice. "I hope Fuzzy Elf pokes lots and lots of holes in him, the stupid git. That's *not* the weapon I need him practicing with..." Kitty noticed the other woman's slightly stunned look and moderated her tone immediately. "I'm sorry, Amanda, you know I didn't really mean that. But I'm just so frustrated! I never expected to see the day Pete would rather exercise with Brian or Kurt than with me..."
"So, what does Pete say, when you tell him just exactly that?" the sorceress asked curiously. Wisdom's recent atypical behavior had been the subject of lively gossip and wild speculation among the other denizens of Muir for quite some time now.
"I can't tell him anything like that! First, he's being so good, doing everything I asked him to, giving up everything I asked him to. But more than that, I'm just plain *scared* to confront him directly. What if he says he doesn't want to, anymore, that he doesn't want *me* anymore? Because I pushed him too hard, tried to change him too much? What do I do then? And what if he says he wants to, but just can't? I read somewhere feeling pressured to perform is the worst possible thing in that case..."
Nightcrawler's girlfriend had to hide a smile. That was Kitty, all right, always looking for the answers in some textbook. "Ok, I can see how it might be a hard topic to bring up casually." Imagining that scene, she just couldn't suppress a giggle at the thought of any man's reaction to such a challenge to his virility. "So, why don't you try a nice, slow, romantic seduction? You don't have to bring the question up, just set the mood and let him know -- subtly -- that you're interested and available."
The younger girl shook her head sadly. "That may be Kurt's style, but it isn't Pete's. And Pete's taught me all kinds of things, but I've never had to learn to seduce him, not really, especially not from scratch. Usually all I have to do is be within arm's reach of him, and breathing, and he's ready, willing and able -- usually." She eyed Amanda hopefully. "You're a sorceress, right? So you could maybe mix me up a love potion?"
The desperate undertone in Kitty's plea had Amanda worried. "Those frequently end up backfiring -- you might end up in love with Kurt and I'd have to kill you," she grinned, "or Pete might end up in love with Moira and she'd have to kill him." Amanda gave Kitty a conspiratorial glance out the corner of her eye. "But you know, now that I think about it some more, seeing that would almost be worth it."
The sorceress was pleased to see that got a reluctant laugh out of her old friend. She stood up to leave, with a final "Get Moira to check him out first -- maybe his new diet has screwed up his testosterone levels or something. Then you try a nice, slow, romantic seduction. It'll work, trust me..." But Kitty's woebegone expression didn't change, and Amanda sighed and capitulated. "Ok, look -- if it *doesn't* work and Moira says he's fine physically, I'll check him out for demonic possession. But, in return, you promise me you'll lay off the booze in the meantime, ok?"
Looking for her absent boyfriend a bit later, thinking she might try Amanda's advice and talk to Pete about her feelings openly -- or, if she chickened out on that, just try harder to seduce him -- she was surprised when Meggan told her she'd seen Pete outside, apparently going for a walk. Kitty tried to resist the temptation for a brief moment, then shrugged and set out to follow him. She -- together with every one else on Muir -- was still finding Wisdom's sudden reformation more than a bit hard to swallow, and she occasionally wondered if he was just faking, sneaking out for a surreptitious cigarette or drink, or to gorge himself on a hidden cache of junk food. Besides, catching him alone, away from the others, might help.
Following quietly, at a distance, Kitty was relieved to see his thin dark figure veer aside when they came in sight of a brooding Colossus sitting on a granite outcropping, staring out to sea -- Pete male-bonding with Peter or Peter questioning and commiserating with her current sexual deprivation were just not things she felt she could cope with right now. Then she jumped when a high voice came from behind. "Is there some esoteric psychological significance in your current activity which my limited familiarity with human customs precludes me from comprehending?"
She whirled to confront the golden-skinned, techno-organic entity who wore the form of her old, dead friend. "Douglock, why are you following me? What do you want?"
"I have heard many of our fellow residents speculating on more than one occasion as to whether Mister Wisdom is in reality still Mister Wisdom or a pod-person, and I do not understand. When I asked Rahne and Meggan and Nightcrawler and Amanda and Dr. MacTaggert, they all told me to ask you. So I came to ask you -- what is a pod-person and why does everyone think Mister Wisdom is one?"
Before she could come up with a suitable reply, she saw Pete turning towards them, and heard him call out, "That you, Pryde?" And, before she could shoo Douglock away, her boyfriend had walked up to join them. "You two deep in some soddin' computer shit, then? Ferget it an' bugger off, mate -- I want Kit t' meself fer a bit..."
As Pete grabbed her by the hand and pulled her away, she glanced back over her shoulder at her techno-organic teammate staring after them. "You go back to the research center, Douglock. We'll talk later, ok?" Kitty almost skipped along at her lover's side in her rush to catch up to him, buoyed by the hope -- and desire -- Pete's last words had aroused. She didn't care if it was cold and wet outside, as long as he wanted her. But she got more and more puzzled as he headed for the edge of one of Muir's many stony cliffs.
Wisdom stopped right at the edge, pulling her next to him, waving one arm at the view of wind-tossed waves. "Beautiful, ain't it? Just like you..." As Kitty stood speechless, Wisdom hugged her, kissing her on the forehead. "Y' know, love, that meant th' world t' me, when you said you didn't want t' ruin my fun, you just wanted me t' live a long an' healthy life so we can go on havin' fun together fer a long long time to come. That gave me a good reason t' try 'n' change fer th' better..."
Kitty's mind boggled at the vision of spending the rest of her life with this new, kinder, gentler, reformed, affectionate, and apparently celibate Pete Wisdom. "I'd rather jump off this cliff," she muttered, sotto voce. She wanted -- she needed -- the lewd, rude, dirty, stinking, obnoxious, drunken, sex maniac she'd fallen in love with to come back.
"What was that, Pryde?"
"Oh, I was just thinking... it might be a good idea to let Moira check you over." Ignoring Wisdom's half-hearted demurrals, she gushed on, "Amanda told me Kurt banged you up a bit earlier, and I just want Moira to make sure you're ok. Changing so many long-time habits so quickly must be awful stressful in itself, maybe it's sapped your strength just a bit..."
"Nae, A cannae find anything wrong wi' yon daft Sassenach, Kitty." Dr. MacTaggert looked up from Wisdom's just-updated medical records. "His blood tests an' all other lab work are fine. Red an' white cell counts, blood sugar an' cholesterol all well wi'in normal ranges, nae sign o' any new infection or injury, normal reflexes, nae big problems in movement or endurance... improved skin tone... nae sign o' cysts, lumps or internal parasites -- alien, african or american -- normal prostate, all hormones within his typical ranges..." Moira sounded just a bit grumpy. Normally she loved getting the abrasive Englishman trapped in her lab, especially for the more embarrassing tests, but it wasn't nearly as entertaining for her when Wisdom didn't vehemently protest or try to escape her clutches. And being grumpy usually made her Scots more pronounced.
"I know, he's been just wonderful," Kitty babbled a bit nervously. "He hasn't smoked a cigarette or had a drink, he's getting up early and eating lots of healthy food and going out for long walks and getting a good night's rest every night..." Her voice trailed away uncertainly.
Moira set down her papers and sat back, drumming her fingers idly on her desk. "Sae, why did ye want me tae check him oot?"
"Because... because he... we... we don't... Because he doesn't want me anymore!" Kitty burst into tears, sobbing her heart out as the older Scotswoman jumped up to gather the young girl into her arms. "We're in the shower, and all he does is scrub my back and wash my hair -- which he did before -- but that's *all* he does. We're alone in our room, and he never suggests some private recreation -- he starts picking stuff up and putting it away." Her voice rose in a plaintive wail. "We go to bed, he kisses me and says goodnight and turns over and just goes right to sleep." She pulled herself upright, still sniffling. "Moira, it's not supposed to be like that, is it? Alcohol's supposed to dull the sex drive, isn't it? So not drinking should increase it. And healthy food and lots of rest should give you lots more energy for all kinds of physical activities, including fooling around together, it never makes *me* feel uninterested." Kitty was blushing furiously, reminding herself over and over that Moira was a doctor, used to being consulted about extremely personal matters.
Moira offered her a box of tissues. "Aye, maun all them foul black Sassenach divils be mickle contrary beasties..." Then she gave Kitty her own suggestions and recommendations. "If tha' doesna work, A'll start on more tests tomorrow, fuir glandular imbalance, mind control, and cloning."
Kitty glanced around the room, nervously smoothing her hands along the hopefully alluring and seductive outfit she was wearing -- the lace- trimmed silk slip and wrap she'd 'borrowed' from Rachel's things so long ago for her first time with Pete, now enhanced with a matching garter belt and stockings Wisdom had bought her and her highest heels.
She'd prepared carefully, combining Amanda's and Moira's suggestions with her own intimate knowledge of her lover -- she hoped. Dinner for two in their room, the table covered by a white damask tablecloth borrowed from Meggan and laid with some of Moira's best serving dishes, the dinner itself planned and cooked with lots of help from Rahne. She lit the tall, thin, scented candles Amanda had contributed and took out the Tori Amos CD she'd been listening to, then started a Righteous Brothers greatest hits CD playing quietly.
Pausing in her pacing, she wriggled her hips slightly, trying to get more comfortable in that stupid garter belt -- no, she reminded herself, 'suspenders' were what Pete called garters. Whatever he called them -- it? -- this was one of the silliest, most ridiculous items of clothing she'd ever worn -- except that, based on her past experience, it was absolutely, positively guaranteed to have her lover salivating at the mouth the instant he saw her, especially combined with the sheer black stockings that were also among his favorites and the 4-inch stilts only her natural dancer's agility let her walk in for any length of time.
She jumped when the door opened suddenly and Wisdom walked in. "Hey, Pryde, c'mon, I promised Meggie we'd watch th' Teletubbies with 'er... " He glanced around, curiously. "Wot's th' special occasion? Did I ferget yer birthday or somethin'?"
"I just thought we both deserved some quality time together.." Kitty came up to him and pulled off his jacket, dropping it on the floor as she wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her body against his suggestively. "But, if you'd *really* rather we go watch Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa Laa and Po..."
Pete just returned her hug casually, without the obvious physical reaction she'd been working for, then pulled away and ambled over to sit at the table, without a second look at her wearing what used to be one of his favorite outfits. "Ok, we can eat now an' join Meg tomorrow. So, wot's fer dinner?"
His frustrated girlfriend gritted her teeth, forcing down her sudden urge to kick him -- hard -- in a certain place, and see if *that* managed to get a reaction out of him. Instead, she came up next to him and lifted the covers off several of the serving plates, revealing large portions of haggis, black pudding, faggots, and chip butties.
Wisdom stared down at the various offerings in some astonishment. "Hell, I can't eat any o' that crap, Pryde... I promised you, I'd eat healthy junk only. You got any idea wot goes into this soddin' muck?" He poked his fork tentatively at the steaming sheep entrails, the dark blood sausage, the chopped-liver meatballs swimming in thick gravy, the ketchup-soaked french fries peeping out from between slices of thick buttered bread.
"Pete." Her voice was rock-steady as she tangled a small hand in his unruly black hair, tugging his head up and around until her big brown eyes were staring directly into his deep blue ones. "Eat the damn haggis, or I'll turn *you* into haggis."
As Wisdom watched suspiciously, trying to figure out the catch here, Kitty first loaded up his plate with large helpings of everything mixed together in an even more revolting jumbled mass, then grabbed a glass and poured out a hefty dose of deep amber liquid from the bottle of vintage Scotch Moira had provided. She handed it to him with a shy, sweet smile glued on her face. "Here you go. Moira swore this is the good stuff."
He took the tumbler gingerly, staring longingly at the rich liquor. "Look, Pryde, wot's the deal 'ere? I been stickin' to me bloody promise, but I don't remember torture being part o' the soddin' bargain..."
"It's medicine, bub." Kitty's normally soft voice was velvet steel now. "Now drink your damn medicine down, or do I have to pinch your nose shut and pour it down your stupid throat?"
Pete took a big swallow so quickly the fiery liquid made him choke, and Kitty pounded on his back helpfully, if not very gently. "Ain't you joinin' me?"
Her voice was pure ice now. "Pete. Shut. Up. Eat. Drink." She poured herself a tiny portion of the Scotch, and sipped at it slowly, trying to keep her spirits and her courage up while she watched him eat, standing over him menacingly until the plates were all squeaky clean, refilling his glass frequently.
When he'd finished, and pushed his chair back with a replete burp, Kitty topped off his drink one more time and moved away, to return just a moment later with the pack of Marlboros he'd ceremoniously let her lock away when he'd resolved to reform. She leaned over him, making sure he got a good eyeful of her admittedly modest cleavage while she reached out to light a cigarette in the flickering light of one of Amanda's ivory tapers. Then she sat down in his lap, making sure her slip rode up high enough to expose firm milky white thighs highlighted by the garters and sheer black stockings, and waved the cigarette around under his nose, smiling to see his nostrils flare whenever the acrid grey haze wafted by. "You've got a choice of desserts now, Wisdom," she purred in his ear, while nipping delicately at his earlobe. "Rahne worked very hard this afternoon to make you one of her gorgeous, rich, incredibly delicious strawberry shortcakes... or... you can have me instead..." Kitty was thrilled to feel Pete's one arm come up to rub at her back sensuously and then pull her close for a deep, long kiss, even as his other hand grabbed at the Marlboro proffered so temptingly...
Epilogue
Waking up with a start, Kitty propped herself up on one elbow and glanced around, a bit disoriented. She relaxed as soon as she saw Pete sitting up in bed next to her, sipping slowly at a Scotch. She couldn't tell for sure in the darkened room, but she knew he was eying the pack of cigarettes lying among all the other debris scattered over his bedside table.
He'd felt her motion, and glanced down at her with that special, soft smile he reserved just for her. "Can't sleep either, love?" Setting his drink down, he reached over to tenderly brush her tumbled hair back off her face, then ran his fingers lightly over her lips and up to tweak her nose gently.
Kitty slid closer and stretched her arm out to snag his Marlboros. "Here," she handed them to him. "I know you're just dying to have one."
He looked at her in some surprise, even as he pulled out a crumbled cigarette and lit it with a miniature hotknife off the end of his thumb. "Yeah, but I were tryin' t' restrain me baser instincts." Wisdom took in several deep drags, gratefully, still eying his girlfriend more than a bit warily.
She smiled back at him, and untangled herself from the cool linen sheet to crawl over and climb onto his lap. Pete stubbed out his smoke immediately, and wrapped his arms around her to pull her close, flipping her over expertly to lie beneath him as he leaned down to kiss her.
He tasted of booze and cigarettes as always, and that mingled erotically with the fading scent of cheap aftershave and the musky scent of his sweaty skin to get Kitty squirming in growing arousal, her heat stoked by the obvious physical reaction she could feel pressing against her legs. She broke their kiss for a minute to murmur breathlessly, "Pete, promise me you'll never change," and then reclaimed his mouth as they resumed their usual nonverbal communication.
ADDITIONAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
The breakfast scene and Brian's comments there were suggested by Suzie Campos, except for the cricket which was one of Denise's ideas. Shopping for shoes was also suggested by Denise. The comments about evil people having good clones comes from Alara Rogers' "Twin Poles" story. Mercs ambushing them and rescuing a liger up a tree both come from Suzie's Great X-Pectations stories, while Gilly's place is Gillian's Fripperies and Fineries store from Tina Randleman's story "Something Old, Something New" (and I wish you would all write her and encourage her to continue it!). Pete buying Lockheed pet toys and treats came from both Suzie and Denise. Meggan wanting a mackerel striped tabby is from Dyce's "Revenge of the Incompetent" story in her Generation Cat series. Pete coloring in Rahne's church class and watching Meggan's favorite tv show were Denise's ideas (and Phil Foster told me about the Teletubbies), while Pete fencing with Kurt and Kitty asking Amanda for a love potion came from Suzie. And I've probably forgotten some other ideas I swiped from Suzie, Denise and Lynx.