A/N: so, I know it's been a while, but I promise, this chapter will have the start of the big plot line. It's not all just cooing over a baby and what not. There's gonna be action in abundance. So, enough of my rambling and promises, let's get this show on the road.
It was a stupidly reckless thing to do. Or a recklessly stupid thing. Either way, it showed a decided lack in will to live in the person who decided it would be a good idea. And of course, given the nature of what happened, that person was none other than one John Allerdyce.
It was the second to last class of the day for him and Bobby. But more importantly, it was the second to last class of the day before classes were stopped for Christmas vacation. None of the students were interested in doing anything. And frankly, the teachers weren't too keen on making them try to pay attention. Except Logan, who might've been taking his own anger out on his students. For he was angry, and the source of his anger was none other than Kurt, which surprised pretty much the entire Mansion.
Well, it wasn't entirely Kurt than Logan was mad at. It had started out with Storm asking him to help out in the decorating for Christmas. Logan didn't have anything against Christmas itself, he was more just stressed from trying to get ready for the baby, and getting the Mansion decorated and his teaching duties and everything under the sun it felt like. And without Scott there to relieve his tension on acting as walking punching bag, it just simmered under the surface until he snapped at Kurt, who had only asked when they were going to put the crib together.
The snapping had turned into sniping, and that had turned into yelling, and that had turned into Kurt packing up his things and moving down the hall into his room/half done nursery and left Logan in his room. It had been such for an entire week. In that week, Kurt had been seen walking the gardens with Remy, or having lunch with him, or watching TV or reading in the library and no, Logan was NOT jealous, as Kitty had found out when she asked and he'd nearly bitten her head off. She was still angry at him, and not speaking to him. Which bugged him more than he cared to admit and only served to fuel his own anger. So he sat behind his desk, glowering at the kids as they sat at their easels and tried to paint without squirming too nervously and drawing attention.
All of them were like that except for Johnny. He continued to throw his paint at the easel, splattering it all over himself and Bobby, who sat next to him, perched on his stool. Bobby tried to ignore it. He really did. He was used to Johnny's antics, but when he sat up to stretch and yawn and got a mouthful of paint that was the last straw.
"Would you please control yourself?!" he hissed. Johnny gave him wide, innocent eyes, a smear of paint on his nose. "Yes you! Stop with the flinging paint. My tongue is orange now!"
"So's your lips Bobby-boy," Johnny snickered, rubbing his thumb along Bobby's lips and coming away with a smudge of paint. He wiped his hand on his smock, still chuckling. Bobby frowned, but turned back to his easel. Johnny smirked at him a few seconds longer before continuing to flick his paint brush full of paint at the canvas. Flecks of paint landed in his hair and eyebrows, as well as Bobby's. Bobby twitched as each splotch of paint landed on him, and his grip on his paint brush tightened until his knuckles were white. He knew Johnny was doing it on purpose, but why he would do it on a day when Logan looked as though he would have no qualms against dismembering any of them was beyond him.
More and more paint began to coat him and those around them. Kitty was looking as murderous as Logan, and even Angel, who was normally pretty mellow, was flashing him annoyed looks. But then, his wings were dripping paint. Finally, Bobby couldn't take it anymore and subtly flung paint at Johnny's head. A slow smirk spread across Johnny's lips as he paused in his work, and Bobby realized too late that that was what the damned pyromaniac had planned the entire time. A paint war. He met Johnny's gaze, and pleaded with him silently to drop it, to forget it had happened, to not make this a war when Logan was just looking for an excuse to take out his problems with Kurt on them.
"Johnny, please, don't!"
Johnny picked up his brush, dunking it in the jar of paint he had.
"I'm begging you!"
Johnny swirled his brush around, loading it with paint.
"C'mon!"
Johnny swung his brush around and hit Bobby, Kitty, and Angel with globs of paint. But that wasn't the worst thing. He had miscalculated his trajectory, and a blob of bright orange paint hit Logan's desk and sprayed all over the teacher's face. A gasp went through the class, before it fell silent. Bobby shrunk in on himself, while Johnny tried his best not to laugh at Logan's orange face. But it was hard. He looked like an extremely pissed off Oompa Loompa.
"Allerdyce, Drake, the only reason I ain't giving you two detention is I don't wanna sit here through it with ya this close to Christmas. But you two are going to stay after class and clean up this mess before your next class."
"Or what?" Johnny drawled, wincing slightly as Bobby elbowed him. Bobby didn't even have the thought process to question why he was being forced into the punishment, he just didn't want either them maimed. He desperately hoped that Logan and Kurt patched things up soon. He wasn't certain he could take much more of this walking on eggshells business. Or trying to keep Johnny from being more than a little suicidal. He wondered idly if it was Johnny's way of seeing if he was up to the challenge of watching out for him like he used to. But no…this was more than Johnny's usual brand of madness.
"What the hell was that for?" he demanded, once Logan and the other students had filed out. Johnny looked at him with hooded eyes and a lopsided grin as he shrugged out of his smock.
"I dunno. Felt like livening things up a bit," Johnny answered, bringing his smock to the sink where he could wash it.
"I think you were being both suicidal and homicidal. I mean, really Johnny, if you wanna get maimed by a moody Logan that's fine, but why'd you hafta drag me into it?"
Again, Johnny shrugged, maddening Bobby. He growled low and set about scrubbing the paint off the desk, the floor, and everywhere else it had landed. Once that was done, he tried to pull Johnny's canvas from the easel and toss it out.
"What're you doing? That's my art man!"
"It's a mass of paint on canvas!"
"No, it's mine and I'm hanging it on the wall," Johnny grasped one end and tried to pull it from Bobby's hands.
"It's just a big splatter," Bobby didn't let go. The canvas strained between them, creaking and quivering.
"You're ripping it! Let go!" Johnny jerked it. With a horrendous ripping, the canvas tore, dotting them with half dried paint and sending the two boys tumbling backwards, each with a half of canvas in their grip. Johnny sat up first, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at the groaning boy across from him.
"You're an asshole. You tore it in half," he snatched the other half from Bobby.
"You helped," Bobby snapped, getting to his feet. Johnny's scowled deepened, but underneath the anger, Bobby could see how upset he was. It was there in the tremble in his hands, how his lower lips shook just slightly, and oh god, Bobby didn't want him to cry. Johnny hadn't cried since he was a little kid, before the world got its teeth in him; chewed him up and spat him out into the jaded man-boy standing in front of him. He started to feel bad; he hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, he was just upset at Johnny for getting them both in trouble. It was just a painting, but it was Johnny's and it obviously meant something to him. Maybe he saw something in the red, orange and icy blue lines and bars and splotches that Bobby didn't, and he liked what he saw. "C'mon, let's finish cleaning, and then after shop I'll help you fix it."
"How?" Johnny clutched the pieces, sounding positively suspicious.
"I can stitch it back together, and then we can frame it or at least hang it up," Bobby replied. The smile Johnny turned on him was radiant, and warmed Bobby all the way to his toes and he found himself grinning like a fool in response. He shook his head, and together they cleaned up before racing and just barely making it to shop class where Logan gave them a slight nod to tell them they were in the clear…for now.
Class after that passed uneventfully, and once the bell rang, Johnny trailed Bobby, holding the pieces of his painting to see to it that Popsicle made good on his promise to fix it. Logan watched them leave; shaking his head at the way Johnny was padding after Bobby with the air of a lovesick pup. If he wasn't in such a foul mood, he might've thought it cute. Kurt would have, he'd have been sighing dreamily, his eyes all misty as he remembered when he and Logan had first gotten together, his hands no doubt rubbing his belly. Logan growled softly; damn it what was he doing just standing there, hanging his head and his tail between his legs? He couldn't keep up this avoiding Kurt business, it was cowardly and stupid. Plus, it wasn't the same trying to sleep without Kurt's big belly nearly pushing him out of the bed.
Mind made up, Logan jogged out of the garage, following his nose in search of Kurt. Of course, mingled with his scent was Remy's, as they'd been spending just so much time together recently. Again, Logan squashed down that not jealousy, thought he briefly entertained the idea of skewering that red eyed, oh so charming swamp rat and barbequing him. But it was only briefly. Honest.
Remy looked up from the book of baby names he'd been skimming with Kurt, sensing something coming their way. Something short, hirsute, pissed off, and possessing a wicked set of adamantium claws. "Don't look now mon ami, but I tink your amour is heading towards us, and he is less than pleased."
"Understatement of the century," Kurt muttered as Logan approached. It looked as though it took a lot of restraint for him to not stomp towards them. Kurt sighed, and tried to get to his feet to at least meet Logan's gaze during this…whatever this was. Unfortunately, his back spasmed, and he stumbled backwards. Right into Remy's arms. Remy smirked at Logan over Kurt's shoulder before righting Kurt. Now, that isn't to say Remy was interested in Kurt as more than a companion. He wasn't. He just enjoyed pushing Logan's buttons, and the way to do that was to make him think he had designs on his elf. A death wish to be sure, but fun all the same. Logan's eyes narrowed and hardened and his hands curled into fists. He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
"Could I have a word? Alone?" he said, pointedly looking at Remy.
"But of course. Adieu, mon ami," Remy gave a low bow to Kurt and sauntered out. Logan waited until he was gone before looking back at Kurt, forcing himself to not snap at him once more. It was just Remy; he flirted like he breathed, and only when he knew it would earn him something.
"So, vhat is it Logan?" Kurt asked, sitting down once more so his back would loosen up. It didn't, and he winced as the muscles tightened and throbbed. He was fairly sure he felt a kick after that, and rubbed his belly soothingly. Only four more months little one. Be patient, he thought, and gazed up at Logan.
"You want another back rub while I apologize?" Logan offered.
"Apologize, huh? And just vhat are you apologizing for liebchen?"
"Turn 'round," Logan murmured, and Kurt perched in the seat with his back to Logan. At once his fingers dug into the aching muscles, drawing a purr from Kurt. "I'm apologizing for being a stupid ass, and letting everything get to me and for snapping at you, and for wanting to punch that damned Cajun through the wall every time I see him with you, smirking at me like he just knows how much it pisses me off."
"Well, I wouldn't apologize for that. I think it's nett," Kurt grinned over his shoulder at Logan, and noted the slightly puzzled expression. "It means cute liebchen. It's cute how jealous you are."
"I'm not jealous!" Logan grumbled. "I just don't like him aiming the charm in your general direction. There's a difference. Move your tail out of the way." Kurt's tail swept to the side as Logan kneaded his lower back, working out the kinks. "Anyway, apology accepted?" Kurt leaned back, curling against Logan's chest.
"Apology accepted. Now, vant to go finish putting the crib together?"
"Sounds like a plan."
Christmas dawned clear and crisp, with a blanket of snow laid over the grounds, as of yet untouched by the students. Then again, they were still sleeping…for a few more minutes at least.
"It's Christmas! C'mon! Get up; you can sleep when you're dead! It's Christmas!" Kitty tore through rooms, yelling and dodging pillows hurled at her. Johnny swore at her as she ran right through him as he was walking across the room to wake Bobby.
"Apparently it's Christmas popsicle, time to get your frozen ass up and open presents," he nudged Bobby's shoulder, still groggy enough that he wasn't expecting it when the other boy rolled over in his sleep. Johnny overbalanced and ended up landing hard across Bobby's side, elbows digging into his ribs. Both groaned in pain, and Bobby shoved Johnny off him onto the floor. "Ow! Damn it Bobby, didn't have to push me that hard," Johnny griped, rubbing his tail bone.
"Didn't mean to," Bobby slurred, rubbing his eyes. "Did I hear Kitty?"
"Yeah, she ran through here screaming about it being Christmas and time to get up even though it's only…I don't even know how early. So c'mon, let's get presents. What'd you get me?" Johnny slung his arm around Bobby's shoulders and half dragged him to the stairs.
"A lump of coal," Bobby replied drily.
"Hardy har har. Seriously, what'd you buy meeeeeeee?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Just shut it."
"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed."
"Wonder why that is?"
The pair continued bickering as the descended the stairs to the large den where the giant Christmas tree was surrounded by presents. Logan was glaring at Kitty, who was perched on the arm of the chair Angel slouched in. Kurt was curled up on his side, his head pillowed on Logan's thigh, half asleep. Storm was running a hand through her hair, leaning slightly on Hank, who was nursing a big mug of coffee. Remy was propped against the far wall, watching the proceedings, and the younger kids were sprawled on the floor, eyeing the presents and radiating barely contained energy. They looked from the presents to Storm and back again, over and over like they were watching an intense tennis match.
"Oh, go ahead already," Storm waved her hand, releasing them to tear through the paper, sending ribbon flying and nearly upsetting the tree.
"Logan! It's gorgeous," Kurt gasped softly, cradling the circus themed snow globe Logan handed him. "Do you like your present?"
"Love'em," Logan pulled on the fingerless leather gloves, flexing his hands. Around them, similar sounds of enjoyment were to be heard.
Johnny's eyes widened in shock as Bobby dropped a shiny new gold lighter into his palm. "I got it engraved for ya," Bobby mumbled, his cheeks aflame. Johnny turned it over and sure enough, there in flowing script was Firebug. He coughed, clearing his throat and blinking. Bobby frowned, tilting his head to the side.
"Sorry, got a bit of sentimentality stuck in my throat," Johnny flashed him a wicked grin. Bobby rolled his eyes, reaching out to tousle his hair.
"I'll take that as a 'thanks Bobby, you're the best, you're the source of all that is good in the universe, etc,'" Bobby said sarcastically.
"Took the words right out of my mouth."
"I'm sure."
Eventually, the mess had to be cleared, and dinner made. While that was taken care of, all the students donned their cold weather gear and traipsed into the snow, running about, hurling snow balls, building all manner of forts and creatures and people and skating on the pond. Only when the sun started to dip below the horizon and Storm bellowed that dinner was ready did they make for indoors. Bobby trailed after Johnny, who had all but run for the mansion doors. Whether it was a quirk of his particular mutation, or just his own personality, Johnny hated the cold, and had only gone out because Bobby had practically begged. But now he was freezing and his nose was cold and he felt sure he was going to get sick.
"If I get sick, it's your fault," he grumbled.
"Aw, c'mon Johnny, it wasn't all that bad, you had fun."
"Oh yeah, loads of fun…'til I caught that snowball Peter threw at me…with my face! And you just laughed at me!" Johnny shoved half heartedly at Bobby before sneezing violently. Bobby softened; already his friend looked pale and miserable. And it was Christmas too.
"Alright, if you think you're getting sick, off to bed. You want some tea?"
Johnny nodded, and with only minimal resistance, shuffled up the stairs to their room, shucking off his wet boots and sweatshirt. He had always been very susceptible to colds and the like, and with the conditions he'd been living in for so long, it probably hadn't done his immune system any favors. He swore soundly as he flopped back onto his bed. There was nothing worse than being sick during the holidays. Although Bobby looking after him was a nice touch.
Bobby bustled about the kitchen, dodging Storm and Hank, who were preparing dinner. He fixed himself and Johnny each a steaming cup of tea and carefully carried them out. Glancing towards the den, he saw Jubes and Kitty on either side of Kurt, bouncing M&Ms and Skittles off his stomach into each other's mouth, and Kurt's. Bobby rolled his eyes before going back up the stairs. Johnny was bundled up in his blankets when he arrived, only his head visible. He stuck out one arm and gratefully accepted the mug, blowing on it before gulping down half without wincing.
"Isn't that hot?" Bobby asked.
"Yup."
As it turned out, Johnny did catch a cold that left him sniffling, sneezing and groaning. Logan, when he caught wind of it, had a fit of paternal instincts, and basically quarantined Bobby and Johnny to their room. He wouldn't have the cold spreading to Kurt and their baby. Bobby spent his days leading up to New Years making tea, and replenishing Johnny's supply of tissues, cough drops, and medicine that he had to all but force down his throat.
"I don't want it!"
"I don't care! Take the medicine Johnny, it'll make you feel better."
"If you really cared about me, you wouldn't be making me take that. I don't know of any grapes that ever tasted that nasty."
"It's because I care that I'm making you drink it. Now open up."
And so on, until New Years Eve. Despite Johnny telling him he could join the others in the den, celebrating and watching for the ball to drop in Times Square, Bobby turned on the TV in their room and sat at the foot of his bed with him. Johnny, knowing it was a lost cause, scooted up to sit next to him, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with a tissue clutched in his hand. Bobby gazed at the TV, watching the confetti fly and the people cheering wildly. He jumped as something landed softly on his shoulder, and glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Johnny had slumped over, asleep on him. He rolled his eyes, and shifted so the almost over his cold boy was curled up on the bed, resting his head on his leg. Bobby laid his hand lightly on Johnny's side and let him sleep.
It was Logan who heard it, the loud knocking on the heavy doors. He jogged to the door, pausing with his hand hovering over the handle. "Who is it?"
There was silence on the other side of the door, and Logan lifted his head, nostrils flaring. The scent was familiar, but what in the hell would she be doing there? He repeated his question, and this time got an answer.
"Mystique."
By that point, Kurt, Hank, and Storm had gathered around, and some of the kids were peeking in through the doorway. Logan looked back at them. "What d'you think? Should I open it?"
"Open it Logan," Charles walked around the corner, standing behind Logan. Logan shrugged and heaved the door open. Mystique darted over the threshold and over to the stairs. She was bundled in a long grey coat with black boots, mittens, a hat and a scarf. Half melted snow spread out from her boots as she plucked off her mittens and hat and unknotted her scarf, stuffing them in her pocket.
"Care to explain why you're here?" Storm asked icily. Mystique smirked at her as she unbuttoned her coat.
"A glass of champagne?"
Logan growled softly, earning him a wider, slightly more lascivious grin. Kurt squeezed Logan's shoulder, easing him back, and Mystique's grin faltered slightly. Hank blinked, noticing it. He looked between Kurt and Mystique, something about the two of them tugging at the back of his mind. But he just couldn't seem to remember exactly what it was. He shook his head, letting it go for now.
"I've actually got information for you," Mystique replied, running her fingers through her hat hair, smoothing it into place. "Bad information. Information best shared where the kiddies can't hear."
Charles inclined his head, "If you'd like, we can go to my office. All of us." He included Logan, Kurt, Hank, and Storm in his gaze. Mystique shrugged, and followed him. She lounged in the chair in front of his desk, looking posed and mildly seductive. Charles hardly raised an eye brow as he sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, while the others fanned out along the room.
"I've been hearing whispers of things, rumors," the shape shifter stared without preamble. "I didn't exactly believe them at first, so I did some recon, and found them to be true. It's not good, not good at all."
"What is it?" Hank asked.
Mystique ticked her gaze to him. "You remember Bolivar Trask?"
"Yes, we all remember him."
"He's building Sentinels."
A collective silence filled the study, broken by Kurt asking "What are Sentinels?"
"Robots. Really big robots that hunt down mutants," Logan summed up grimly. Kurt swallowed convulsively, his hands sliding protectively around his belly. Logan wrapped his arm around Kurt's shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down his arm. Kurt leaned his head on Logan's shoulder, nuzzling closer.
"You're certain?" Charles asked, leaning forward.
"100%. I saw them myself," Mystique assured.
"Do you know for what purpose?"
She grimaced. "Now that I don't know. I couldn't stay long or I'd get caught. All I found out was that he's building them, but they're still a long way from being done. At least, that's where they were at when I saw them a few weeks ago. Who knows where they're at now?"
"I think we'd know if they were done," Storm muttered. "They'd be at our door as we speak."
"Well, there's not much we can do at the moment," Charles sighed. He looked at Mystique. "Do you need a place to stay?"
"I would appreciate it."
"You're welcome to then. Hank, if you could show her to a spare room please?"
"Thanks," Mystique got up and followed after Hank. The others dispersed as well, going to their own rooms. Kurt and Logan trailed down the hall behind Hank and Mystique. It was only after he had shown her to her room, and glanced down at Kurt's tail disappearing into the room he shared with Logan that he realized what it was that had been tugging at the back of his mind. Without knocking, Hank flung open the door to Mystique's room.
"He's your son!"
She looked over at him, one eye brow cocked. "Who?"
"Don't play coy. Kurt, he's your son. I knew that, I read about it back when I worked with the government, in both of your files. But I forgot about it until just now."
Mystique sighed heavily. "Yes, he is."
"But you don't look old enough to be his mother."
She snorted, giving him a look as if to say Hello, shape shifter.
"Right, sorry. But does he know?"
"No, and I'd prefer it stay that way at the present. It's a long, painful story. I can't exactly pop in to say good night and add "oh yes, by the way, I'm your mom. Long time, no see." Especially after the news. However, two questions. One, is he pregnant? Two, is Wolvie the father?"
Hank suppressed a grin at her referring to Logan as 'Wolvie', and nodded. "Yes to both. He's due in…April."
Mystique sat down hard on her new bed. "Right, do I want to know?"
"I don't know, do you?" With that, Hank bowed out, pulling the door closed behind him and leaving Mystique more out of her element than she cared to admit. He paused at Logan and Kurt's door, considered telling them. But…no, it wasn't his place. He'd let Mystique handle that. Plus, as he was, for all intents and purposes Kurt's physician, he didn't want to give him undue stress in his condition. No doubt Logan would make him pay for it with interest. And then who would help with the baby's delivery? No, best to just let things sort themselves out.
What he didn't count on was Logan still being awake, and hearing every word.
A/N: dun dun dunnnnn! Oh yeah, is that a good ending or what? As for Mystique being Kurt's mom, check out Kurt's profile on , it's all there. That's basically the story I'm sticking with, with perhaps a bit of tweaking. And, next chapter the baby shall be born. I promise, and I'll try not to make the wait between chapters so long.
