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KURT'S POV

"Kurt…Kurt…FURBALL", Shouted the ponytailed brunette, bent slightly with her face in Kurt's. Kitty Pride was wrapped hurriedly in a pink bathrobe with her ponytail slightly ajar. Kurt considered Kitty one of the closer friends he associated with, Kitty being the only one who knew about him being gay. Strange, she was considered by most to be a gossip.

"Get up man, snow day, school is C-A-N-C-E-L-L-E-D", she announced each letter, something she had picked up since becoming a cheer leader. To match, she did small bounces on the heels of her feet. Kitty was the only person in the house Kurt really connected with… and even then it was only occasional. "Now get up", she finished, becoming serious.

Kurt, halfway happy and aggravated, leaned up on his left hand, unfolding his knees. "If it's a snow day", He breathed rubbing his eyes, fighting to speak, "Why did you wake me up?" Kurt asked his question sarcastically, not really expecting an answer. Kurt considered teleporting straight to his bed, but couldn't find the energy.

"VH1 is having a 'Dirty Dancing' marathon on all day today. I'm going to watch it all eleven times", Kitty let out to herself as if it were some difficult task. "And you were taking up the sofa", Kitty began to return to her schedule but stopped and reached quickly at Kurt's neck. "What's that", she asked, pointing.

Kurt looked down at the motorcycling gloves hanging by the Velcro, stuck into Kurt's shirt. He must have fallen asleep with them. Kurt gazed back up at Kitty, whom obviously didn't recognize exactly what they were, hanging by his collar. Never the less, she did not know about his Logan addiction. Rather it be called… Before another word was spoken, Kurt reached up and grabbed the gloves, he smothered them with both of his three fingered hands and held them with both hands behind his back, as his athletic shorts didn't have pockets.

"Nothing, Just nothing", Kurt blurted out, feeling as though he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. Despite the fact it was 8 a.m., it was still dark from the heavy snow clouds. A very "Fall to the House of Usher" setting.

"I swear Kurt, you are becoming more strange and internal day after day. You feeling okay?" She asked him, not taking her eyes off the television. Kurt ignored the question as he heard rattling and the ping patter in the kitchen as the monstrous X teenagers feasted over breakfast. He wondered if Logan was there…

"Ah shut up", Kurt yelled, balling his fists up against his forehead, screaming at his obsessed inner voice.

As he turned and made his way out of the television area, Kitty made it apparent that she believed Kurt had just insulted her. He was bewildered with himself as she bickered a million miles a minute over how she wouldn't be stifled by a man. And during all this confusion and insecure wallowing, Kurt, despite under duress with Professor Logan's gloves in his hand, noticed a strange sensation. And this time, it wasn't a wave anxiety. 'T'was but eh rumbling in ze tummy', As he often referred to it in his German accent. The thought caused a pang of remembrance as he made his way to the kitchen, nervously wondering if he would encounter Logan again. Strange as it was, the man seemed to notice that Kurt was avoiding him. 'Straight as can be' Logan. Scott constantly rode him about engorging himself on Sonic's and Johnny Rocket's cheese burgers and fries just before Danger Room training in spite. Scott was just jealous that Kurt had the metabolism that allowed him to eat everything but the kitchen sink and not gain a pound. Scott believed Kurt also had a personal vendetta against the team, just because he liked to eat when he was nervous. Hey… his body wasn't going one way or the other. Still a small waist with tiny arms and legs. If they weren't blue and furry, he might just be proud of them.

As a result of the rumbling, as if from one extreme to the next, Kurt foolishly barged into the Kitchen, bumping straight into a pre-distraught Jean. He was looked down upon by furious green judgmental eyes.

Kurt being prone to anxiety attacks and stressful situations caused him to react in odd ways, causing everyone around him to think of him as a goofball or a "Can't take anything serious" type. Scott's words exactly. Which is why he should have seen this coming.

"God you fagot, watch it", screeched a dramatic Jean who took it from zero to a hundred in a record moment. All Kurt could do was flinch as she yelled at him like a child. All of a sudden, his appetite was gone as she stormed out. Leaving the family to stare…

Rogue was actually sitting at the table for once in her southern nighty with Spyke and Scott sitting opposite her. Hank was nowhere to be seen and Bobby just marched out the backdoor with one of the chocolate chip cookies Kurt had cooked up the other night. Which no one thanked him for.

Once again, reacting negatively to the stress as usual, Kurt grabbed three muffins as a distraction off the counter and, unknowingly along with Professor Logan's gloves, began to juggle them. The muffins must have been made by Kitty again because soon they inevitably fell and shattered into the glass covered cabinets. One toppling the toaster with a loud clang. Basically, Kurt didn't quite understand it himself, but Kitty couldn't cook. Her muffins either bounced when you threw them, or tore threw concrete. Must be something with the baking soda… Never the less, the gloves had disappeared from sight. Good. Out of sight out of mind, right?

Kurt stood looking unintelligent in the kitchen.

As he moved casually to take resident at the table with the rest of them, they moved in reciprocation up from the their seats and toward the swinging door. Scott giving him dark loom looks threw his specks, Spyke not looking at him at all. But of course, before they were gone, Rogue had to let in her statements.

"Ha Yeah and the last time I ate cereal next to him I got blue fur in my milk", her statement was followed by the heavy laughter of all three of them as they left the kitchen. As if Kurt wasn't self conscious and hurt enough just by being who he was…

"Ah don't let it get to ya elf" spoke a gruff, sand paper rough voice. "You should see the shower after she shaves er legs. Talk about a fur nightmare", the voice continued.

As if appearing from the shadows, the personification of the masculine voice became apparent. A tall, brooding, broad figure was perched in the corner, the window seat, with his usual full cup of espresso and newspaper. Keeping to himself. Usually that much strong espresso would kill a man.

But all men were less than half men compared to Logan. He was in a sweat soaked tank top and tight wrangler jeans with an unbuckled belt slung though the loops. As always, his hair was tousled away from his face. Hair as thick and black as tar with eyebrows to match. Professor Logan's jaw, like this morning, was forever covered with a thick, black five o clock shadow. Even if he shaved against the grain, Kurt bet he would still have a stubble that could ruin a diamond.

'Oh to rub my hands against that', Kurt purred in his mind. More than once, Kurt imagined having that scratch pad of a jaw rub red on his inner thighs. Kurt reached behind himself and grabbed his tail, which just happily picked up a mind of it's own.

Kurt, not responding to Logan's comment, turned away from him to pull a few Nature's Own bars from the cabinet to take back to his room and eat like a squirrel in it's safe quarters. And just as the air around Kurt began to shift and alter as it always did before teleporting, he felt a strong hand grab his waist and pull. Causing distraction, Kurt jumped as huge man hands pulled him back to reality as Professor Logan held him tight. He could smell the man's musk at that distance. Logan smelled like motor oil, a belt sander, sweat and a hundred percent of unfiltered MAN.

And in just a few seconds of pure bliss, Kurt's closed eyes admiring the touch and scent, it was all over. Kurt turned to face a confused looking Logan whom now held a pair of motorcycling gloves, of which Kurt was practicing on in his mind how to tell Logan he's never seen before. Logan=Human Lie Detector.

From what Kurt could tell, whilst juggling the muffins and rolled up gloves, they must have stuck by there Velcro again but instead this time they had took up residence on Kurt's bottom when they fell from his attempted juggling. Logan, on the other hand, wouldn't believe the true story even if Kurt wanted to be honest. Logan, now having grasped the gloves off of Kurt's ass, looked as if Kurt grew horns and, well, he would say a tail to match. But Kurt already had one of those. One of which was still wagging. Logan wasn't protective of his things, just territorial. One of Logan's beautiful thick eye brows were raised, gazing down at Kurt. There was a good three and a half feet height difference between the two of them. Kurt's head just at the level of Logan's eight pack. Yes that's right, eight pack, not six. Logan was extremely tall, and Kurt was on the shorter side. Kurt could tell by the look on Logan's face that he thought Kurt borrowed his motorcycle. Like the middle school X children did that one night.

Before Logan could call him a blue ball, elf, or something else, Kurt ported away and found himself back in his room. But due to the stress in his small frail body, he teleported back to reality between the two points and landed himself right in the large bowl of eggs in the dinning room, next to the kitchen, splattering egg all over Rogue and Jean…

LOGAN'S POV

Logan rubbed the gloves under his nose in the kitchen. Literally absorbing the smell of blue elf in the morning. He heard a loud crash and smash, followed by the shrieks of girls in the dinning room. But he didn't care about any of it. He had a new prize in his hands to adore.

"Oh, little blue ball", Logan grumbled his lips against the fabric in his hands. "You have no idea"…