Author's note: Thank you to Suzanne, NotMarge, gossamermouse101, Arkytior's Song, kmj1989, MrsPandaBrowncoat, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews! See, it's not *all* bad in the Brotherhood! That's why it's so hard for Vivien, right?

Anyway, today is all new stuff except for like, two lines. Hope you guys like it! Thanks to everyone for reading, and reviews always make my day!


Project Find-Hank-A-Gift

December 19, 1974

"I was wondering..." Hank begins.

"Aren't you always?" I tease. He makes a face at me, to which I laugh. "Stop stalling, baby, it's your move."

We're currently playing chess and sipping on hot chocolate to offset the chilly air in Washington Square Park. I actually didn't know how to play the game until Hank taught me earlier, but so far it's been a blast. I've already won two games, and I'd say I'm about two or three moves from a third.

He sighs and furrows his brow, concentrating hard on the board. I giggle and prop my elbows on the table, resting my chin on the heels of my hands.

"What?"

"Nothing," I reply blithely, grinning. "You're just very sexy when you concentrate."

What? He is.

God, I wish I could see Hank in his laboratory. I can imagine the intent look on his face as he does the science he loves, how appealing he would be without even trying in this sexy-nerd sort of way.

Plus, I bet he looks so damn hot in his lab coat.

He coughs, his cheeks flushing slightly. "You're cheating," he accuses.

"How?" I demand, gasping in offense.

"You're purposely distracting me."

"Am not!" I counter. "How could you accuse me of such a thing?"

"Your smile," Hank explains, giving me a winsome grin of his own. I honestly can't tell if he's being serious or not. "I can't focus when you smile at me like that."

I snort derisively, though I'm actually kinda flattered. "That better?" I ask, covering my face with my hands.

"Not really, but..." he trails off helplessly. I peek through my fingers just a little to see him looking at the chessboard rather hopelessly.

I broaden the gap between my fingers enough that he can see my eyes. "Did you move yet?"

He bursts into laughter and finally moves his knight.

Just as I expected him to do.

Hank told me that eventually, as I got more practice with the game, I'd be able to anticipate my opposition's movements. I don't think he expected me to start doing that quite so fast.

I immediately use my bishop to take his queen. "Check."

Hank stares in consternation at the board for a moment before slumping back in his chair. "My stars and garters," he mutters helplessly. "Have you truly never played chess before?"

"Truly," I reply. I take a sip of my hot chocolate and shrug. "Maybe I've got some beginner's luck going for me. Don't beat yourself up-"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm actually not surprised. You're much smarter than you give yourself credit for, darling," he tells me, a fond expression on his face. "If only..."

If only.

If only I'd been able to go to school like a normal kid. If only my parents didn't die, so I could go off on my own without worrying about James and Myles. Who knows where I'd be now? Maybe finishing college, making plans to get a teaching degree?

But we'll never know, will we?

Hank winces and tries to change the subject when he sees my expression fall. "I wonder how you'd fare against Charles," he muses.

"Is he really good or something?"

"Very," Hank replies. "But I actually think you'd give him a run for his money. He used to play with Erik all the time, before..."

"Before Cuba," I finish for him. He told me all about Cuba and the formation of the X-Men, and then about how that Logan guy we saw back at Alkali Lake came back from the future to save everyone. It sounded completely crazy, but Hank assured me it was all true.

He kinda skimmed over the intervening decade, though- I have a feeling it's because it was very painful for him, having to be responsible for the Professor's care. But I didn't press him on it. He'll tell me eventually, I know he will.

Just like one day I'll tell him about all the skeletons in my closet, whenever I feel like he's ready to greet them with firm handshakes instead of, you know, running away screaming.

"Yeah," Hank agrees. He looks down at the chessboard for a minute and lets out an irritated sigh. "I'm debating if I should try to get myself out of this mess or just gracefully concede defeat."

I giggle and duck my head coyly. "Up to you," I tell him, looking at him through my eyelashes.

His goofy, besotted grin kinda takes my breath away- I don't really think he understands just how charming he is, you know? He reaches out and takes my hands in his. "I think I surrender," he murmurs, standing slightly and leaning across the table to kiss me.

"Hmm. Then I graciously accept your surrender," I tell him, kissing him again.

Hank chuckles and settles back down in his seat, still holding my hands. He looks down at them for a moment and runs his thumbs over my fingers in an affectionate caress before meeting my gaze with his. He begins hopefully, "so I was wondering..."

"We're back to that again?" I ask, laughing.

"Yes, well, you distracted me. Again," he retorts, though the reproach is softened by a smile. His expression then becomes earnest. "I was wondering if you'd like to meet on Christmas Eve, so I can give you your gift."

Aw, he's getting me a present?

Crap, that means I better get one for him, too.

I suck at gift-giving in general just because I haven't had much practice, I guess you could say. I mean, we did Christmas when we were kids, but since Mom and Dad died we've been more focused on survival than anything else. Last year I kinda half-assed presents for my brothers and the twins, though I've never bothered with anyone else.

But actually, getting Hank presents might be fun.

"When's your birthday?" I ask curiously.

"October 14th."

I frown. "Well shit. That means I've already missed it this year," I gripe. His birthday wasn't even two weeks before I came to the mansion. "Just barely, too."

He shrugs dismissively. Why does it not surprise me that he doesn't care about his own birthday? Typical Hank. "When's yours?"

"January 1st," I reply.

Hank's eyes go wide. "So soon," he murmurs. "I better-"

I shake my head. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," he replies firmly. "But first things first, darling. Christmas Eve?"

I count the days in my head. "I can't," I admit.

"Oh," Hank says, deflating a bit. "D-do you have other plans?"

"It's Tuesday, so sorta," I tell him. I always go to visit Hell's Kitchen on Tuesdays, and I don't want to stop now. But then again... "You know what? I want you to come with me."

"Come where?"

"You'll see, baby," I reply, grinning mischievously. "Meet me on the corner of 43rd and 11th at ten, and dress warm."

I think it's finally time for him to meet my friends.


December 20, 1974

It doesn't take me long to land on a gift idea for Hank. I'll get him a book, of course! What else would you get for a super nerd?

Yeah, I know it's kinda cliche and unimaginative, but come on. Sometimes cliches are cliches because they work.

Still, it can't just be any book. It's gotta be special, you know? Meaningful in some way. I'm not really sure how, but I'm hoping I'll know the right one when I see it.

With that in mind I set out for this old school book shop in Greenwich Village that Hank and I found a couple weeks back.

"Is it weird that the smell of old books has to be pretty much my favorite smell in the whole world?" I asked him that day, as we strolled through the aisles.

Hank just shrugged and gave me that adorable grin of his. "I certainly don't think so," he replied. "Especially since the scent of old books happens to be my second favorite."

"What's the first, then?"

He leaned down to kiss and nuzzle my hair. "You," he said, inhaling deeply. "You always smell like sunshine and flowers, it's lovely."

I laughed. "God, you're such a cheeseball," I told him. But I have to admit, I was kinda flattered. My sweet, adorable Hank.

The bells over the door barely tinkle to acknowledge my entrance when I step inside the shop this time. It's empty save for the clerk at the front desk, who seems so absorbed in whatever he's doing that he doesn't even notice me come in.

Alright, time to get down to business.

I spend the next half hour or so trying to find the perfect book to give to Hank. Something about physics? Art history? Classic fiction or something newer?

I'm debating the merits of getting him a copy of War and Peace- I mean, hey, at least it'll occupy him for a while, right?- when the bell over the door tinkles, meaning someone just stepped inside.

I don't pay that any mind until I hear a gruff voice near the counter say, "I want all the cash in the register, Four-Eyes."

Well hello there. Someone left their Christmas spirit at home today.

I peek around a bookcase to survey the scene.

There's a big, burly dude pointing a knife at the poor clerk, who's holding up his hands helplessly. "Uh- I, um-"

"Now," Mr. Knife Guy snaps.

"But there isn't much-"

"I don't give a shit, just do it!" the man shouts angrily. For emphasis he reaches out and tears a page out of the book laying on the counter between them.

"Don't!" the bespectacled clerk whimpers, horrified. "This book is over two hundred years old! You can't just-"

The asshole just rips another page out. "Better hurry, then, you whiny little bitch."

Some people have no respect for the written word, do they? Jesus.

I think that was officially my cue.

"Hey, dickhead!" I call out, stepping out from behind the bookcase.

The guy starts to turn towards me, startled-

"Catch!"

And I throw Tolstoy's masterpiece right at the man's head.

It's a perfect hit. The guy immediately collapses in a heap from the shot straight to the temple.

I approach the counter where the shaking clerk is now looking between me and the downed assailant with a flabbergasted expression. "Are you alright?" I ask him.

He nods, eyes wide, but doesn't react otherwise. This guy isn't exactly good in a crisis, is he?

"Uh, you might want to call the cops," I suggest. "Unless you want this guy to be a new in-store feature?"

The clerk shakes himself. "R-right," he agrees.

I pick up the torn pages and lay them out while he places the call. They're pale yellow and crumbling, clearly very old. After studying them for a moment I realize they're from Robinson Crusoe.

"The police will be arriving soon," the clerk tells me once he rings off. "I can't thank you enough, ma'am."

"No problem," I reply.

"How did you-?"

"I've got a good arm. I played fast-pitch softball for ten years, and it was the first thing I could think to do," I lie. To quickly change the subject I gesture to the damaged book. "Can you save it?"

He shakes his head sadly, closing it and running his hand along the cover. "It'll never be the same again," he says mournfully. "What a pity, it was in such good condition."

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "Do you collect old books?"

"Oh, yes," he replies. He points to a shelf behind him with obvious pride. "First editions, all of them."

I skim the spines, taking in the titles. My gaze is drawn to one in particular- Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. The book Hank and I agreed was a close contender against Pride and Prejudice back at Alkali Lake.

Perfect.

"Do you sell them, as well?" I ask hopefully.

The clerk nods, though he suddenly seems reluctant. "Occasionally," he admits.

"How much would you want for The Count of Monte-Cristo?"

"It's in French, you know," he says stiffly.

Well hey. Even if I wanted the book for myself I bet I could figure out most of it if I tried, considering I've known Cajun since I was a kid. It's obviously not the same, but they're in the same neighborhood, right?

Despite his lack of enthusiasm I press on. I'm not ready to give up hope yet. "I understand," I reply. "But it's not for me. I actually came in here looking for a present for my boyfriend, and that would be per-"

Mr. Attempted Armed Robber chooses that moment to stir.

"Oh, one second," I mutter. Then I give him a swift kick in the head to send him back to Dreamland. "There we go."

The clerk suddenly looks a little guilty. "I suppose I can make you a deal," he says thoughtfully. "It's the least I can do, after you so kindly helped me."

"Really? That'd be great!" I tell him. I bend down and grab War and Peace. "I'll take this too, please. I've already read it, but it kinda makes a good weapon, don't you think?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy for that, but whatever. At least he didn't get robbed.

I'm out the door with my purchases and on my way before the even cops arrive, which is good, because I'm not exactly comfortable speaking to the law.

But still- I'd say that's Project Find-Hank-A-Gift completed, wouldn't you?