Part the Tenth: Smell You Later
Kurt leaped into the couch from behind with a relieved sigh. He'd
obviously been working out in the gym, since he only wore shorts, a
singlet and a towel draped around his neck.
Amara, who he'd 'co-incidentally' dropped next to, pinched her nose
shut. "Ugh," she said. "It's bad enough that I have to share this
dwelling with an unwashed barefoot peasant, but do you have to share
your *smell* with me?"
"Awwww... Did I offend your delicate diddle nosie?"
"Go *away*."
Kurt cackled as he left the room. Round 3 428 of their little
international fracas had emerged in a victory to him. Kurt grinned. He
knew he never smelled exactly - offensive; it was just that after a good
work-out he just got - strong.
"Ew!" Kitty screwed up her face after she bumped into him. "Forget
something today, elf? Like, *hygene*?" She wiped second-hand sweat off
her front.
Kurt's face fell as he watched her run away. _Call it a draw, then._
He 'ported directly to the guy's bathroom and hit the shower with a
sigh. Every other girl who counted - and Amara certainly didn't - found
his scent kind of alluring. Heck, half the women in the troupe used to
follow him around after the show.
But Kitty - the one girl who meant *everything* to him - found him
offensive, and that was enough to make him agonisingly self-conscious.
He was already working out twice as much as he used to, because Kitty
liked guys who were 'buff'. Not that it seemed to show up, much. Maybe
it was the fur, softening what would have otherwise been a chiselled
figure.
Or maybe he was just a big, blue, fuzzy and freakish dope.
Kurt washed that thought down the drain with the rest of his bad
smell. There were always solutions to problems. There was an entire
industry dedicated to it. So he could cover up one more little aspect of
himself that offended her.
_Man, this is harder than I thought..._ Kurt winced. So many choices.
So many names. Such large prices for such little bottles.
He forgot entirely about the aftershave. The fur on his face showed no
sign of ever transforming into a beard. Therefore that left the perfumes
for men.
The Industry called them 'parfams' or somesuch, but they were still
perfume. Logan called the lot of them 'stinkwater' when he thought Ororo
wasn't listening.
"Looking for a present for your Dad, handsome?" cooed a saleswoman.
Kurt could feel a creeping blush coming on. Her shirt was so undone
that he could practically see her underwear. He covered his eyes and
managed a strangled, "NothanksI'mfine," and scurried off before she
could spray him with something.
Perfume saleswomen. They were worse than civet cats.
Some of the displays were confusing. _What the heck does 'for the
woman inside' mean? Mir rauch der kopf..._ One, eventually, hypnotised.
There was a gigantic video wall playing nothing but adverts for
various fragrances. Beside it were posters for _D'artagnion_. Kurt was
fairly sure that no-one was making a movie by that name. He'd have found
out the second the script had been finished.
Then some very familliar music started blaring out of the speakers.
Kurt looked at the screens. Zorro was fighting evil and getting the
girl, swooping across impossible distances on a length of rope. He knew
that movie. Heck, he *dreamed* that movie.
"D'artagnion," a husky female voice whispered. "For the adventurous
spirit."
Kurt was hooked. He watched ad after ad, swashbuckler after
swashbuckler. Swordfight after swordfight. All the time, that luscious
female voice whispered seductive phrases.
"For the hero within," she said. "For the brave heart," and, "Live the
adventure."
It wasn't a movie, it was a smell. For men.
_Caution, Kurt,_ he warned himself. _Find out about it first. You
don't want to wind up smelling gay._
He sidled up to a salescounter and opened with, "Please don't spray me
with anything, yet? I just want to know about this D'artagnion stuff."
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish grinned vacuously. "Would you like to try a
sampler?" she parrotted, gesturing with a little spritzer.
Civet cats, the lot of them. "*No*. I want to find out about it. Who
buys it?" He ducked the jet of perfume just in time. "Look, is there a
human being I could talk to? I want *information*."
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish handed him a brochure. It was a text version of
the ads he'd just seen.
Kurt sighed. "I want you to listen *very* carefully, and then *answer*
my question, okay? Can you do that?"
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish blinked at him, her smile waning. "Er..."
"Finally broke the pattern, ja? I think you were working in your
sleep."
"Would you like to try a--"
"We already did that part," he said. "I just want to know what sort of
guys wear D'artagnion. You see, there's this girl I like and -um-
youknow."
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish laughed. At least she was alive behind her eyes,
now. "Don't worry. D'artagnion isn't remotely floral. It works by
accentuating your natural pheremones while masking any offensive scent
with a spicy aroma." This time, she handed him a scented card.
Kurt risked a sniff. Not too bad. He leaned conspiratorially on the
counter. "I've - never had to use anything like this before... what's -
done?"
"My boyfriend usually gives his pits a brief dose - and between you
and me, there isn't a gal alive that can resist this stuff."
Kurt grinned. "How much?"
She told him.
"*Ooof*..." was Kitty worth *that* much? _Stupid question._ "I don't
have that in cash. Do you take plastic?"
"Sure we do. This *is* the twenty-first century, cutie."
Kurt preened as he reached for his wallet. "Er. Which card do you
take?" He fanned out the collection he'd gathered over the months.
Kurt didn't like credit cards, as he'd been lectured repeatedly on how
evil they were and how rapidly someone could fall into debt. However, he
also wanted to protect his friends. Therefore, when any mail addressed
to 'the occupant' came in with a notice of pre-approval for a card - he
just stepped into harm's way. If he was careful, he reasoned, he could
balance the things for the term of the contract and then quietly close
the accounts.
That still left him with well over fifty credit cards in his name.
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish took one seemingly at random and ran it through
the swiper thingy in exchange for a very small box.
_Man, a little of this stuff had better go a long way,_ he thought.
What the hell. It was worth it. For Kitty.
Kitty rubbed her eyes as she read her magazine. There was a quiz on
how to tell who she was really in love with, and it went over about ten
pages. She chewed her pencil. Did she like a guy who was sensitive to
her needs, or a guy who encouraged her to meet *his* goals?
{fwomp} Kurt landed on the couch. "Hey Kitty. What's happening?"
_Well, at least he isn't like, sweaty any more._ "Go away, Kurt. I'm
like, busy." She circled 'a'. Like, duh.
"You're sure?"
Did she like her man entertaining, organising, fraternising or
fantasising (about other women)? "*Kurt*..." she tsked. "This like,
survey goes on for like, a billion pages. Of *course* I'm like, sure."
Kitty made to circle 'b', then changed her mind and picked 'a'.
He sighed. "All right." His weight left the couch. "Need anything?"
"*Duh*. Like peace and *quiet*?"
So much for irresistability. It was going to take him at least four
weeks to raise enough cash to pay off the card. Waste of money. Waste of
time.
"Hey-yyy," Jubilee cooed. "Someone smells mighty nice."
Kurt smiled at her. "I wish Kitty thought so," he said. Well, maybe it
wasn't a total loss. Maybe he could drum up some competition, make Kitty
a little jealous, and get noticed *that* way.
_Pity I don't play games like that,_ he sighed. _It's dishonest._
And that was pretty much it for Kurt's little container of D'artagnion
For Men. It lay abandoned in his dresser drawer, right next to Opa's
brushes. Right up until the night of his acrobatics performance for
Bayville High.
Principal Kelly had caught him fooling around on the gymnastics
equipment during free period and nearly scared the hell out of him by
applauding.
To think, he used to bask in the ovations of hundreds.
Die Fleidertuefel, scared out of his wits by the sound of one man
clapping.
"Sorry," said Kelly. "I didn't mean to throw off your rythm, there."
Kurt forced himself back into the swing of things. Just because he was
being watched didn't mean he could screw up his routine. "I should
appologise, mein herr," he said. "I shouldn't let myself be startled."
"So - ah - why didn't you join our gymnastics team?"
_A little something called 'fur', or a 'tail'. Or maybe my dummkopf
fritzing holowatch._ He swallowed the real answer and came up with
something more suitable. "I'm an acrobat, not a gymnast."
"There's a difference?"
"Acrobats are allowed to eat what they like. Gymnasts starve." He
threw himself in the air from the uneven bars and, not even looking,
caught the twin hoops that dangled several meters away. "*And*, no
gymnast would be allowed to do *that*."
There was an appreciative whistle. "Well. You've impressed *my* socks
off."
"Dankeshoen." Ah, praise. His meat and milk.
"I have an idea," said Kelly as Kurt threw himself around. "How about
a display of your skills - to generate money for the school, of course.
You could do anything you like."
"I'm going to need a full rig set up. And some stunt props."
"Just give us the specs."
"One night only, no stage names," _It'd be too hard to explain my
stage name, anyway..._
"Not a problem."
"Front row centre seats for my friends?"
"You got it."
"Herr Principal, I think we have a deal."
His old costume from the circus was a little tight on him, now, but it
*did* serve to outline his muscles nicely. Kurt brushed up a little
extra shine on his fur with a second sweep of the soft brush, then
completely erased the effect by turning on his hologram.
Good thing he'd talked the Professor into letting the hologram reflect
his true physical self a bit more. All he really needed to hide was the
fur, eyes, ears, and tail. Kurt flexed in front of the mirror.
"Oh, ja. She won't be able to res--" a flash-forward to the end of his
performance. Him, exhausted and sweaty, coming out of the hot spotlights
to meet, 'Ew, get away from me. You like, *stink*.' No. Not good at all.
She'd be able to resist *plenty*.
Kurt's gaze fell on the little bottle of D'artagnion. _Time to earn
your keep, mein fruend._ He gave his pits a liberal spritz, then added a
little jet to the back of his neck, where sweat tended to collect.
There. He may not actually *stink*, but at least Kitty wouldn't actively
shun him. He hoped.
Downstairs, waiting for Kurt to finish getting ready, Kitty swallowed
yet another decongestant with a glass full of flat ginger ale. Then she
popped a couple of drops of visine in her eyes.
No sense spoiling Kurt's big night with her stupid it'll-never-go-away
Summertime sniffle. So what if her sense of smell was like, totally
*dead*? She never used it anyway.
Kitty had had her cold ever since she'd filled in that stupid survey.
After all those questions, she tallied up her score in various areas and
got the resultant fortune cookie:
"Your dream man is the shy, quiet type who wants to show off for you,
but his efforts may frequently backfire. He is probably the boy next
door - someone physically close to you and who wants to become
emotionally closer. Watch for those watching eyes of his! Your dream man
will quietly observe from afar. He'll make plenty of attempts to appease
you, and often take thoughtless rebukes of yours to heart. Be careful
with him, girls. This dream guy may be the catch of a lifetime, but he
has a heart that's too easily broken."
Like, what guy on *Earth* could possibly be like that?
"I found your purse, Katzchen. It was under the couch."
Kitty cleared her throat. "Thanks Kurt," she said. "Is it bad luck to
wish you good luck?"
"I don't need luck, leibe. I have skill."
The audience was wowed. Kitty could hear just about every girl in the
auditorium screaming his name. Her head, on the other hand, was so
stuffed full of cotton that she could barely stay awake. _Should've
taken the non-drowsy meds,_ she thought. _Stupid cold._
On the floor, Kurt was balancing a chair on one leg, while he gripped
its upper rail with both hands. Correction. One hand. Correction, he
didn't grip it at all. He was now balanced on the upper corner of the
trembling chair, by the tip of his finger. Thanks to his hologram, the
audience saw two fingers, but they still shrieked with every little
wobble.
With a cry of, "Hop-la!" he tossed himself off the chair, which began
to topple, and turned himself about. He landed on the chair with his
feet, stopping its descent into a potentially bone-breaking crash, and
balancing it on two legs. Then he made the chair walk all the way to the
ladder that lead into the rigging high above.
They lapped it up. He was practically glowing in their adulation, and
proved it by climbing the ladder with just his arms.
"What a show-off," said a voice behind her. Lance. He always seemed to
turn up around her, lately. "I wonder what they'd think if his little
holowatch went -vzt- right in front of everyone?"
Kitty yawned. That was a brand new holowatch. The likelyhood of it
even *thinking* of going {vzt} was extremely remote. _Urgh. Kurt's
philosophy is catching. I'm starting to think those things are alive,
too. I must be sick..._
"Hey, pretty-Kitty. Want me to spice up the show for ya?"
"Lance, don't even think about it," she croaked. Then she cleared her
throat. "Kurt's been like, working on this for like, a whole month. If
you like, *do* anything? I'm like, not going near you for like, three."
"Three months?"
Kitty nodded. God, her head hurt.
Lance sat on his hands. "I'll be good."
The roar of the crowd filled his ears as he stood stock still at the
end of his routine. Damn, it felt good to be in the spotlight again, to
feel the love pouring in from thousands of strangers.
He bowed. Hundreds of girls screamed in delight. The ones that had a
good look at his rump, of course. He obliged the other half of the
audience by turning around and bowing again.
He was loving it.
Sweat was pouring off of him, slicking down his hair and fur. He
wanted nothing more than a that-was-fantastic hug from Kitty and a hot
shower. Not necessarily in that order.
_Ach, just a few more minutes playing to the crowd..._ Kurt grinned,
blowing kisses in random directions. _It can't hurt anyone._
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"
Scott had his fingers in his ears. He had no idea acrobatics was such
a turn on. Otherwise, he'd have paid a little more attention to what
Kurt had been doing in the gym, and tried to borrow a few moves.
Even Amara was screaming her lungs out. Jubes was nearing hysteria,
and Jean - he couldn't help noticing - had thrown the roses Duncan had
bought her onto the auditorium floor.
The gymnastics team, Kurt's follow-up act, were glaring daggers at him
as he played up to the audience. They were doing everything short of
actually carrying him offstage to give him the hint that it was their
turn, now. One of them handed him Jean's roses with a rictus rarely seen
outside of a mauseleum. He could swear he heard the rose-handler say,
"Get. Off."
Kurt pretended to be deaf. He accepted the roses and waved cheerily to
everyone in the auditorium. Then he took his time picking an assortment
of other thrown flowers off the floor.
He was puffing and blowing with exhertion, and practically dripping
sweat, but every girl in the place didn't seem to care. Kurt sat heavily
on a bench and towelled the worst of the sweat off while a cluster of
girls crowded the rails near where he sat. He guzzled water and they
strained themselves to touch him.
Kurt, not being a moron, stayed out of their reach until they returned
to their seats.
The gymnastics team did their level best to wow an audience that was
not really interested in them.
Kurt, having drunk his fill and cooled off a little, carried the
flowers right up to where the X-men were sitting. There was a minor
scuffle for the roses.
"Sorry, ladies," Kurt said, still breathless from his performance,
"but there's only one schone Dame in my eyes worthy enough for roses.
Katzchen?"
"Mrgl?"
"I wasn't *that* boring, was I?"
"Sorry, fuzzy. 'M a little outta focus tonight. Awww. You bought me
roses."
Duncan, seated three rows behind Jean, glowered at Kurt as if he
wished the German to spontaneously combust.
Kurt, oblivious to the rising atmosphere of lust and envy, leaned on
the railing and chatted to Kitty. He only stopped when he noticed the
gathering swarm of girls heading in his general direction.
"That *bitch*!" Tabitha snarled. "If he'd given *me* roses, I'd've
frenched him right there."
"Yeah, but we all know you're sick and twisted, yo."
"Shut up." Tabitha glowered at Kitty for a full minute before her
leering eyes were dragged back to Kurt-watching. "Aw... he's just
*sitting* there."
"So watch the stupid gymnastics display and pipe *down*," rumbled
Fred.
"Rrrrr..." Tabitha stared at the gymnasts. None of them, in her humble
opinion, were as hot as Blue. "This is boring."
Her opinion spread out in a general sussuration of feminine unrest. It
grew into a whisper, then a murmur. Then, someone whose name started with
'T' and ended with 'abitha' started a chant.
"Boooooooooooooooo! We want Kurt! We want Kurt!"
"That does it. I'm gone," said Quicksilver.
"Ditto," said Toad. "I don' wanna get caught in the middle of no riot,
yo."
"We want Kurt! We want Kurt! We want Kurt!"
Good grief, they were starting to stomp along with the chant.
Principal Kelly winced. Hadn't any of these people heard of standing
waves? Or the effect that continuous, rythmic vibration *had* on
stationary structures?
The star of the show was obviously incapable of doing any more tricks.
He'd worn himself out for them, and the gymnastics team was clearly a
poor substitute.
Kelly ran around the floor to where Kurt was sitting. "We've got to do
something before it turns into a *riot*," he said.
"You're," Kurt panted, "kidding me."
"Just step up to the mike and explain that you're tired. Something.
*Anything*."
"Man, I can't even *juggle* right now." Kurt levered himself up and
trudged over to the mike while the gymnasts wished rains of vitriol on
his head.
There was a cheer as he tapped the mike.
"Es ist nice to know I'm so loved," he managed, trying not to pant
down the PA system.
The girls in the audience screamed.
"Please. Please. I can only do so much, you know. And these very
talented people, here," he gestured at the gymnasts, "have been working
twice as hard as me to put together a good show for you all. Give them a
chance, ja?"
The chant started up again.
Kurt waved at them to stop. "I can't do it. I'm sorry. If I try
anything else tonight, I'll faint. That won't be a good show at all,
ja?"
This time, they giggled.
"Come on. This is our trophy winning gymnastics team. Give them a
hand!"
They applauded. The gymnasts actually started liking Kurt again, and
Principal Kelly could relax.
On his way out, Kurt said, "I think it may be better if I hit the
showers, now. Help them forget I was here."
Kelly snorted. "You're welcome to try it, Mister Wagner."
Some people can wear perfume. Some people can't. Of the latter group,
there are two extremes. The first extreme is those people for whom
perfume doesn't stick; it evaporates from their skin in a very short
time and doesn't leave a ghost of its essence around. The other extreme
is the group of people for whom an atom of scent becomes a deluge; they
amplify any essential oils to hit their skin, and have a hard time
getting rid of the artificial scent.
Guess which group Kurt is in.
He couldn't know, for example, that heating his body with excercise or
a hot shower, would only amplify the effects of the generous amount of
D'artagnion For Men already influencing all womankind within sniffing
distance.
He couldn't know that the diminutive amount he'd tried almost a month
ago had taken half a week to wear off. He'd just thought all the girls
were being unusually friendly.
In short, he was becoming a chick magnet.
Kurt emerged from the steam in his tight costume, because he'd
neglected to bring along a change of clothes, and headed for the vending
machines. A little candy and soda would see him through until
dinnertime, and if he was lucky, he could see how the gymnasts were
doing.
Although, from the complete lack of applause coming from inside the
stage, they were probably not doing too terribly well.
Kurt fed change into the machine and punched a code. The little spiral
thingy stopped just short of delivering a large packet of Ju-Juice Boms.
"Verdammt thing..." He shook the machine and jounced the packet loose.
Another string of change and another code resulted in a jammed Choco-
Power bar.
This was getting monotonous.
It was a real pity that repairing school property without proper
authorisation was technically theft, because otherwise, he'd have the
machine gutted, tweaked, and back in full working order. Instead, he had
to settle for shaking and cursing.
"Hey, Blue," Tabitha cooed. "What'd the machine to do you?"
Kurt pointed to the Choco-Power bar that was hanging on the hook of
the spiral thingy by a fold in its wrapper. "It's being a thief," he
said, chewing on one of his Ju-Juice Boms. "I paid for that candy. It's
*mine*."
"I could -ah- fix it for ya."
Kurt raised an eyebrow. It had been three minutes and she hadn't even
tried to take one of his candies. "Can you fix it without blowing it
up?" he asked. "Tonight's performance was to help pay for the incidental
damages that *you* guys wind up causing, you know."
"We appreciated it," she purred. "We really did. And it's my turn to
pay you back, just a li'l." She turned and flying-kicked the vending
machine.
It wobbled on its base, teetering dangerously at one point, before it
settled back into its place. More or less. It also dropped the candy bar
into the collection bin.
"You *are* insane," Kurt laughed, retrieving his Choco-Power bar.
She felt up his backside.
"*HEY*!" Kurt had barely had time to retrieve his candy.
"Just takin' a chance while opportunity knocks, Blue. You have *such*
a nice ass."
Kurt backed away. "Ja, and it comes with accessories." All he had to
do was make it back into a relatively public place. Maybe he could join
the audience or something.
"I always love your ass," Tabitha cornered him somehow and found the
tail under the holographic image. "And the accessories."
Had it been *Kitty* running her hands across that little spot where
his tail departed from his back, he wouldn't have minded so much. But
Kitty never wanted to touch him, and that was the reason he was confused
over Tabitha. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the
blonde mutant used him for something, and she did it so nicely that it
hardly hurt at all, but -- it still hurt.
"You are," she announced in a whisper as she brushed herself up
against him, "*so* Goddamn sexy."
"Hands off him, bitch." It was another of the more - aggressive ladies
of the school. But she usually threw herself at senior jocks. "He's
*mine*."
_Guess I'm temporarily a Jock, tonight._ "Actually, I'm mine," he said
as the girls faced off, sidling away from Tabitha. "And I have to get
going. See ya." He put on a pretty amazing turn of speed, considering
his exhaustion, and wound up cowering in a darkened alcove. _Man. What
was *that* about._
"Oh wow," someone giggled. "I can't believe I found you back here.
This is amazing." She was one of Kitty's friends from computer class.
The quiet one who blushed a lot and hid behind her binder. "I love your
costume. It totally shows off your -ah- assets."
_You mean 'package'._ "I really should have got a new one. This is far
too tight on me, now."
"Oh, *I* think it's perfect," she giggled, turning very pink. "I kinda
like you," she blurted.
It was the D'artagnion. It had to be the D'artagnion. The saleslady
*said* that no woman alive could resist it. He just thought that was a
pitch because Kitty, the one woman he was aiming at, had been able to
casually ignore him. He really, *really* shouldn't have tried to use it
like a deoderant.
"Das ist sweet, really," he said, not wishing to break her heart. "But
I'm sworn to another. I really can't--"
"Hey-yyy..." cooed another female. Rogue's friend Risty. "Fancy
meeting *you* here. Did you know you smell *awfully* nice for a guy
that's been working out?"
"WhoopsisthatthetimeImustbegoing!" Kurt took off before either girl
could get close enough to try feeling him up. Sure, most of him was
covered in lycra, but it was the bits that weren't that were going to be
the most trouble.
He wolfed down the Choco-Power bar and chased it with a generous
handful of Ju-Juice Boms as he ran. He was going to need the energy if
he was going to avoid a mob of scent-crazed women.
He couldn't contact Jean for help. For all he knew, she could be
influenced, too. And Jean had some very large boyfriends who would get
very jealous in a rather short amount of time.
He needed to think.
Somewhat difficult when just about every girl in the place was coming
after him. Some travelled in packs, probably thinking to share him,
while others fought like cats in a sack. Even the odd teacher had a
predatory gleam in her eye.
This was the furthest from a dream come true that he could hope for.
Kurt threw open a window and dived out, running into the night.
Evan blinked. These guys did *not* have rythm. Their timing was out by
a whole quarter-second.
Damn. He'd been hanging around Kurt too long. K-man tended to measure
his acrobatic routine/drill in sixteenths and fourty-eighths of seconds.
*And* he contantly bitched to the Professor about getting a rig set up
somewhere. Rumour had it that he'd completely cleaned out one of the
sub-sub basements, ready to accept it.
He leaned back and tried a little girl-spotting, letting his gaze
drift where it would and hope it'd catch something interesting. That was
when he noticed.
Nothing but guys. All the girls had just - gone. The only ones left
were Aunty O, Rogue and Kitty, who had fallen asleep in her chair.
He elbowed Scott, who was kind of dozing himself. "Hst! Where'd all
the girls go?"
It was a full-out bitch fight. Those that weren't already brawling
were working up to it by swapping the most hideous insults and personal
secrets that Kurt never wanted to hear.
He was stuck on top of a street light, using its glare to hide his
presence from the explosion of women below. At least, up here, he could
hear himself think.
Kurt was too tired for more than one short 'port, preferably in a
southerly direction. The magnetic field of the Earth tended to influence
him heavily whenever he was hungry or tired.
This time, he was both.
_I think it's past time to see if some of the optional extras in this
watch are working,_ he thought, bringing up the comm link and tapping
out an SOS. _Please work, please work, please work..._
{pipipip peepeepeep pipipip}
_Someone had better turn off that pager. It's driving me nuts._
{pipipip peepeepeep pipipip}
_Where *is* the asshole who's got it? I'm gonna pound him, pretty
soon..._
{pipipip peepeepeep pipipip}
_Whoops. It's me. Damn these new commwatches._ Evan blushed and ducked
into a vacant corridor and answered it. "Who's jerkin' around?"
"Evan! Thank you, *yes*. You've got to get Scott and bring the car
around to the corner of Twelfth and Oak. I need a rescue."
_Huh?_ "Why don't you just pop off to the mansion?"
"If I could have, I would have. Just get Scott and get there. Don't
tell any of the girls. Not *one*, you understand?"
Evan raised an eyebrow. "This is getting wierd, but - okay..."
"You should try it where *I* am," said Kurt. "Hurry."
Okay, so that was not only wierd, even for Kurt, but it also sounded
true. Evan hurried back to Scott, the only one allowed to touch his
precious car.
"Scott, wake up!"
"Snx? Wsfgl?"
"Kurt's just sent us an SOS. He needs a bail-out at Twelfth and Oak."
Scott yawned. "Wha' bout--?" he gestured a thumb at the remaining X-
men.
"Forget them, we've gotta book. Aunty O will take 'em in the X-van."
"...mrgh." He staggered down the corridoors to his car. "Where we
goin' again?"
This was going to take a while.
"Okay. So we're here. Where's--"
{Bamf!} "Drive! Schnell!"
"--Kurt." Scott glared at him. "Do I even want to know what's going
on?"
"Didn't you hear me? Move! It's only a matter of time before--" He
looked behind him. "...oh Gott..."
Scott checked it out. Running towards them at full pelt was just about
every female in the school. He planted his foot on the accelerator and
zoomed away from them. "Man. You weren't kidding when you said chicks
dig the fuzzy dude."
"Shut up..."
Evan was staring at Kurt. "Have you gone *insane*? You could have had
the cream of the crop, man..."
"Ja, shortly before the others *killed* her. It's a madhouse, back
there." He leaned back on the seat. "Ohhh... I'm starving. Too much
running."
"All we got are Tic-Tacs, K-man," Evan rattled half a box of them.
"Sorry."
Kurt took them anyway, scarfing them down in less than a second.
"Ugh... I'm so hungry, I'll even eat Kitty's Home Ec. experiments."
"Dude, there's no *way* you could be that hungry. Remember her
cruelty-free mayonnaise?"
There was a mutual shudder.
"Alright, so I'll skip the condiments."
"You *are* starving."
Trouble caught up with him again in the Institute, when he'd finished
telling his story over his fifth plateful of dinner. The rest of the X-
men came home, and that included the girls.
Kitty stomped up to her bedroom without even saying a word.
Rogue drifted in for an out of character hug with her half-brother
before drifting out again, in search of entertainment.
Amara, Jubes and Jean hung around and giggled a lot. They were
definitely friendlier than they usually were towards him. In Amara's
case, stunningly friendlier.
Jubes was the first one to sidle up to him and run her fingertips down
his arm, lingering when she reached the soft fur on his hands. "You
really shouldn't cover up, you know," she said. "Your fur is like, *so*
amazing."
_I wish Kitty thought so._ Because it was night, he could feel where
she was without having to concentrate. She was up in her room, on her
bed, and probably monopolising phone time with Lance.
Kurt couldn't 'get' Kitty liking Lance. The boy had tried to *kill*
her, and there she was, casually flirting with him as if nearly killing
a girl was an opening gambit in the lists of love. Maybe it was some
peculiar American thing. Where he came from, one gently wooed a lady
with softer, prettier things. _Maybe that's why I'm getting nowhere with
her. I'm not nasty enough..._
He sighed, and Amara lifted his head up. "Is something bothering you,
boy?"
That was a rare sign of favour from Amara. He usually got 'peasant'
thrown at him like a casual epithet. They hadn't really got along ever
since she'd arrived, and announced that he, Kurt, could have the
privalege of moving her luggage to 'her suite'. Things escalated after
that when she found out she had to share a room, while Kurt kept one to
himself, *and* his was bigger than hers.
_Curse me for wanting to make friends rather than keep enemies..._
"Ja," he said. "Katzchen."
The room temperature dropped.
"That little bitch."
Kurt didn't want to know who said that. They were under the influence
of D'artagnion For Men. They didn't know what they were doing. "Please.
Don't do anything to her?"
Maybe it was the fact that he'd said 'please'. Maybe it was the broken
way he was sounding, but he could feel the three girls around him power
down.
It was Jean who came out with the cracked and wobbling, "You really
love her, don't you?"
_I can't stand this. It hurts too much._ All the same, he couldn't
stop the confession, now. "I just don't know what to *do*," he said.
"I've tried everything, and it all just bounces off like it doesn't
matter. If only I knew what to do..."
Three female faces quirked up into nasty smiles. They were going to
give him *bad* advice in the hopes that he'd be shot down so badly that
they'd be able to step in.
"Never mind," he sighed. "I need to go change." He 'ported into his
room before anyone could offer to help.
Logan was waiting for him. He did not look happy. "Pretty impressive
stinkwater you bought, Elf. Enjoying the consequences?"
"You won't believe me, so why don't we just skip to the punishment,
ja? It can't make my night much worse." He slouched over to his bed and
fell on it.
"Thought you'd be living it up. You love bein' the centre of
attention."
Kurt couldn't deny that. "Attention, ja. Flat-out lust, nein. They
were *frightening*, Herr Logan."
Logan sniffed, and his feral demeanor dropped. "You actually smell
*upset*," he said. "Underneath that solid layer of I-want-sex *stink*
you're wearin'. Did you even *read* the information sheet?" Logan held
it up.
"I thought it was ad copy," Kurt protested. "That looks a lot like the
brochure."
Logan sighed. "Kurt," a true sign of seriousness. Logan rarely used
names. "This stuff works on a chain reaction. Molecules in this stuff
replicate yer natural pheremones, and fuel that reaction by eatin' up
any bacteria livin' on yer skin."
"Uh... That's - bad. Right?" Curse his trouble with English - the
*other* reason he hadn't read the folded sheet that came with the box.
"On you, that's very bad. You never needed any extra pheremones."
"That's what you say," Kurt murmured. "Kitty seems able to ignore them
just fine."
"Half-pint's had a cold for the past month, Elf. She can't smell a
thing."
"*WHAT*?" How could he not *notice*? "When? She hasn't been
complaining, or acting out of sorts... When did this happen?"
"Near as I figure, she's had it for about a month."
Kurt got up and found a nice wall, then he started pounding at it with
his head. "Dummkopf, dummkopf, dummkopf, *dummkopf*..."
Logan literally picked him up. "Knock that off right now, Elf. We
gotta get that stinkwater off ya before things get crazy."
"What do you mean 'get'? Things *are* crazy! I only bought it in the
first place 'cause she said I smelled bad and -- Gott, ich bin ein
dummkopf..."
Logan carted him to the guy's bathroom. "Yer a teenager, kid. Comes
with the territory. All those hormones scramble yer brains."
Kurt, meanwhile, had started to pray. _*Please* let this stuff come
off with soap? Don't let it come to a bath of tomato juice and
toothpaste? Please?_
_I hate this, I hate this, I hate this..._ Kurt screwed his eyes shut
and shivered as Logan, Mr McCoy and Scott all worked tomato juice into
his fur. It had to be cold, Logan said, because heat helped the active
ingredients in the _D'artagnion For Men_ to work.
"How are you holding up?" Scott asked.
"I want to die," Kurt mumbled. "This is worse than my fifth A-day."
"A-day?"
"I don't have a B-day. Get it?" The half-smile on his face was more of
a grimace. "I got hit by a civet cat." At Scott's confused look, he
added, "Das ist like getting 'skunked'."
"Ew."
"The whole village had to come by and give handy hints. From upwind,
of course." Kurt sighed. "At least the village *knew* me. Here? Who
knows? Somebody might like to gossip."
"Not if *I* have a say in it," said Logan. "Awright. Time to rinse 'im
off before round two."
_I hate this._
Kitty stumbled downstairs in search of a painkiller. _When is this
cold going to like, go *away*?_ Her head hurt, she felt miserable, and
she didn't want to make waves. It'd look like she was playing for
attention after Kurt's big success at the show.
The kitchen was unseasonably warm. Something she secretly appreciated,
what with the chill.
"Gutenabend, Katzchen."
"Like, hi," Kitty almost hadn't seen him there. What was with the
blanket and the hot chocolate?
Kurt sneezed.
_Oh._ "Like, *please* don't tell me I like, gave you my cold?"
"Nein, leibe. I'm just defrosting." He sneezed again. "Why didn't you
*tell* someone you were ill?"
"I can like, handle it. A little decongestant here, some visine there.
Like, half a ton of Tylenol. Like, nobody's the wiser."
"Decongestants are the worst thing for a head cold, leibchen. They
make the virus stick around longer."
"I know, but --" Kitty sighed and flomped into a handy chair. "I
didn't wanna come off like some whiny brat. Not when you were like,
working so hard and everything."
"Idioten, die zwei von uns..." Kurt muttered.
"Whut?"
"Never mind," Kurt stood up and gave his blanket to her. He had his
jammies on. "Here. You can keep this warm for me while I make us some
Schokolade. And some chicken soup."
His second-hand body-heat was extremely comforting. It made half her
headache go away, just like that. Kitty found herself smiling as she
watched him putter around the kitchen, lecturing her on how she had to
indulge herself now that she'd admitted being sick. Half of the placebo
effect, he said, were endorphins. Therefore, the better she made herself
feel, the better she was going to get.
_I *like* that philosphy._
They wound up sharing the blanket in front of a fireplace and sipping
chicken soup together. Kitty secretly revelled in the feel of his very
warm body against hers, and the comforting touch of his fur. She was
always worried that she might offend him by unconsciously petting him,
so she avoided physical contact altogether. This close, however, she
couldn't help but run her hand along his fur.
_So soft..._ he was eminently pet-able. Kitty often found herself just
wanting to rub up to him and snuggle in. She risked a peek at him as she
gently stroked his arm.
He was smiling, and watching her.
Suddenly aware, Kitty blushed and forced herself to let him go. His
tail wrapped itself around her wrist, and gently guided her back.
"I don't mind it, fraulein. Honest. You can pet me any time you want."
Kitty blushed all the harder. "I'm gonna like, totally give you my
cold."
"Then we can nurse each other back to health," he said. "It'll be
fun."
Despite the blush, Kitty grinned. "Sounds like a deal to me, Fuzzy-
elf."
Elsewhere in the mansion, Scott noticed a discarded cologne bottle in
the trash. It was nearly full. He looked at the lable and whistled.
D'artagnion For Men. Expensive stuff to just throw away.
He read some of the blurb that he also rescued from the trash.
_Irresistable to women, eh? Looks like I might not need to learn
acrobatics, after all._ He grinned as he spritzed himself under his
shirt, then jumped up and down a bit to get it warmed up. He put the
bottle and the blurb on his dresser and went off seeking Jean.
She was having a little gossip-on-ice-cream session with the other
girls. Rahne, Amara, Jubilee, Rogue, they were all there. Except Ororo,
who was off doing whatever she did at this time of night, and Kitty, who
was sharing a fireplace with Kurt.
"Hey, ladies," he breezed, leaning on the door.
Five girls got some very predatory grins. "Well, hel*lo*-oooo..." They
giggled.
Scott's grin turned into a rictus. _Maybe I shouldn't have used so
*much*..._
Kurt leaped into the couch from behind with a relieved sigh. He'd
obviously been working out in the gym, since he only wore shorts, a
singlet and a towel draped around his neck.
Amara, who he'd 'co-incidentally' dropped next to, pinched her nose
shut. "Ugh," she said. "It's bad enough that I have to share this
dwelling with an unwashed barefoot peasant, but do you have to share
your *smell* with me?"
"Awwww... Did I offend your delicate diddle nosie?"
"Go *away*."
Kurt cackled as he left the room. Round 3 428 of their little
international fracas had emerged in a victory to him. Kurt grinned. He
knew he never smelled exactly - offensive; it was just that after a good
work-out he just got - strong.
"Ew!" Kitty screwed up her face after she bumped into him. "Forget
something today, elf? Like, *hygene*?" She wiped second-hand sweat off
her front.
Kurt's face fell as he watched her run away. _Call it a draw, then._
He 'ported directly to the guy's bathroom and hit the shower with a
sigh. Every other girl who counted - and Amara certainly didn't - found
his scent kind of alluring. Heck, half the women in the troupe used to
follow him around after the show.
But Kitty - the one girl who meant *everything* to him - found him
offensive, and that was enough to make him agonisingly self-conscious.
He was already working out twice as much as he used to, because Kitty
liked guys who were 'buff'. Not that it seemed to show up, much. Maybe
it was the fur, softening what would have otherwise been a chiselled
figure.
Or maybe he was just a big, blue, fuzzy and freakish dope.
Kurt washed that thought down the drain with the rest of his bad
smell. There were always solutions to problems. There was an entire
industry dedicated to it. So he could cover up one more little aspect of
himself that offended her.
_Man, this is harder than I thought..._ Kurt winced. So many choices.
So many names. Such large prices for such little bottles.
He forgot entirely about the aftershave. The fur on his face showed no
sign of ever transforming into a beard. Therefore that left the perfumes
for men.
The Industry called them 'parfams' or somesuch, but they were still
perfume. Logan called the lot of them 'stinkwater' when he thought Ororo
wasn't listening.
"Looking for a present for your Dad, handsome?" cooed a saleswoman.
Kurt could feel a creeping blush coming on. Her shirt was so undone
that he could practically see her underwear. He covered his eyes and
managed a strangled, "NothanksI'mfine," and scurried off before she
could spray him with something.
Perfume saleswomen. They were worse than civet cats.
Some of the displays were confusing. _What the heck does 'for the
woman inside' mean? Mir rauch der kopf..._ One, eventually, hypnotised.
There was a gigantic video wall playing nothing but adverts for
various fragrances. Beside it were posters for _D'artagnion_. Kurt was
fairly sure that no-one was making a movie by that name. He'd have found
out the second the script had been finished.
Then some very familliar music started blaring out of the speakers.
Kurt looked at the screens. Zorro was fighting evil and getting the
girl, swooping across impossible distances on a length of rope. He knew
that movie. Heck, he *dreamed* that movie.
"D'artagnion," a husky female voice whispered. "For the adventurous
spirit."
Kurt was hooked. He watched ad after ad, swashbuckler after
swashbuckler. Swordfight after swordfight. All the time, that luscious
female voice whispered seductive phrases.
"For the hero within," she said. "For the brave heart," and, "Live the
adventure."
It wasn't a movie, it was a smell. For men.
_Caution, Kurt,_ he warned himself. _Find out about it first. You
don't want to wind up smelling gay._
He sidled up to a salescounter and opened with, "Please don't spray me
with anything, yet? I just want to know about this D'artagnion stuff."
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish grinned vacuously. "Would you like to try a
sampler?" she parrotted, gesturing with a little spritzer.
Civet cats, the lot of them. "*No*. I want to find out about it. Who
buys it?" He ducked the jet of perfume just in time. "Look, is there a
human being I could talk to? I want *information*."
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish handed him a brochure. It was a text version of
the ads he'd just seen.
Kurt sighed. "I want you to listen *very* carefully, and then *answer*
my question, okay? Can you do that?"
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish blinked at him, her smile waning. "Er..."
"Finally broke the pattern, ja? I think you were working in your
sleep."
"Would you like to try a--"
"We already did that part," he said. "I just want to know what sort of
guys wear D'artagnion. You see, there's this girl I like and -um-
youknow."
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish laughed. At least she was alive behind her eyes,
now. "Don't worry. D'artagnion isn't remotely floral. It works by
accentuating your natural pheremones while masking any offensive scent
with a spicy aroma." This time, she handed him a scented card.
Kurt risked a sniff. Not too bad. He leaned conspiratorially on the
counter. "I've - never had to use anything like this before... what's -
done?"
"My boyfriend usually gives his pits a brief dose - and between you
and me, there isn't a gal alive that can resist this stuff."
Kurt grinned. "How much?"
She told him.
"*Ooof*..." was Kitty worth *that* much? _Stupid question._ "I don't
have that in cash. Do you take plastic?"
"Sure we do. This *is* the twenty-first century, cutie."
Kurt preened as he reached for his wallet. "Er. Which card do you
take?" He fanned out the collection he'd gathered over the months.
Kurt didn't like credit cards, as he'd been lectured repeatedly on how
evil they were and how rapidly someone could fall into debt. However, he
also wanted to protect his friends. Therefore, when any mail addressed
to 'the occupant' came in with a notice of pre-approval for a card - he
just stepped into harm's way. If he was careful, he reasoned, he could
balance the things for the term of the contract and then quietly close
the accounts.
That still left him with well over fifty credit cards in his name.
Hi-My-Name-Is-Trish took one seemingly at random and ran it through
the swiper thingy in exchange for a very small box.
_Man, a little of this stuff had better go a long way,_ he thought.
What the hell. It was worth it. For Kitty.
Kitty rubbed her eyes as she read her magazine. There was a quiz on
how to tell who she was really in love with, and it went over about ten
pages. She chewed her pencil. Did she like a guy who was sensitive to
her needs, or a guy who encouraged her to meet *his* goals?
{fwomp} Kurt landed on the couch. "Hey Kitty. What's happening?"
_Well, at least he isn't like, sweaty any more._ "Go away, Kurt. I'm
like, busy." She circled 'a'. Like, duh.
"You're sure?"
Did she like her man entertaining, organising, fraternising or
fantasising (about other women)? "*Kurt*..." she tsked. "This like,
survey goes on for like, a billion pages. Of *course* I'm like, sure."
Kitty made to circle 'b', then changed her mind and picked 'a'.
He sighed. "All right." His weight left the couch. "Need anything?"
"*Duh*. Like peace and *quiet*?"
So much for irresistability. It was going to take him at least four
weeks to raise enough cash to pay off the card. Waste of money. Waste of
time.
"Hey-yyy," Jubilee cooed. "Someone smells mighty nice."
Kurt smiled at her. "I wish Kitty thought so," he said. Well, maybe it
wasn't a total loss. Maybe he could drum up some competition, make Kitty
a little jealous, and get noticed *that* way.
_Pity I don't play games like that,_ he sighed. _It's dishonest._
And that was pretty much it for Kurt's little container of D'artagnion
For Men. It lay abandoned in his dresser drawer, right next to Opa's
brushes. Right up until the night of his acrobatics performance for
Bayville High.
Principal Kelly had caught him fooling around on the gymnastics
equipment during free period and nearly scared the hell out of him by
applauding.
To think, he used to bask in the ovations of hundreds.
Die Fleidertuefel, scared out of his wits by the sound of one man
clapping.
"Sorry," said Kelly. "I didn't mean to throw off your rythm, there."
Kurt forced himself back into the swing of things. Just because he was
being watched didn't mean he could screw up his routine. "I should
appologise, mein herr," he said. "I shouldn't let myself be startled."
"So - ah - why didn't you join our gymnastics team?"
_A little something called 'fur', or a 'tail'. Or maybe my dummkopf
fritzing holowatch._ He swallowed the real answer and came up with
something more suitable. "I'm an acrobat, not a gymnast."
"There's a difference?"
"Acrobats are allowed to eat what they like. Gymnasts starve." He
threw himself in the air from the uneven bars and, not even looking,
caught the twin hoops that dangled several meters away. "*And*, no
gymnast would be allowed to do *that*."
There was an appreciative whistle. "Well. You've impressed *my* socks
off."
"Dankeshoen." Ah, praise. His meat and milk.
"I have an idea," said Kelly as Kurt threw himself around. "How about
a display of your skills - to generate money for the school, of course.
You could do anything you like."
"I'm going to need a full rig set up. And some stunt props."
"Just give us the specs."
"One night only, no stage names," _It'd be too hard to explain my
stage name, anyway..._
"Not a problem."
"Front row centre seats for my friends?"
"You got it."
"Herr Principal, I think we have a deal."
His old costume from the circus was a little tight on him, now, but it
*did* serve to outline his muscles nicely. Kurt brushed up a little
extra shine on his fur with a second sweep of the soft brush, then
completely erased the effect by turning on his hologram.
Good thing he'd talked the Professor into letting the hologram reflect
his true physical self a bit more. All he really needed to hide was the
fur, eyes, ears, and tail. Kurt flexed in front of the mirror.
"Oh, ja. She won't be able to res--" a flash-forward to the end of his
performance. Him, exhausted and sweaty, coming out of the hot spotlights
to meet, 'Ew, get away from me. You like, *stink*.' No. Not good at all.
She'd be able to resist *plenty*.
Kurt's gaze fell on the little bottle of D'artagnion. _Time to earn
your keep, mein fruend._ He gave his pits a liberal spritz, then added a
little jet to the back of his neck, where sweat tended to collect.
There. He may not actually *stink*, but at least Kitty wouldn't actively
shun him. He hoped.
Downstairs, waiting for Kurt to finish getting ready, Kitty swallowed
yet another decongestant with a glass full of flat ginger ale. Then she
popped a couple of drops of visine in her eyes.
No sense spoiling Kurt's big night with her stupid it'll-never-go-away
Summertime sniffle. So what if her sense of smell was like, totally
*dead*? She never used it anyway.
Kitty had had her cold ever since she'd filled in that stupid survey.
After all those questions, she tallied up her score in various areas and
got the resultant fortune cookie:
"Your dream man is the shy, quiet type who wants to show off for you,
but his efforts may frequently backfire. He is probably the boy next
door - someone physically close to you and who wants to become
emotionally closer. Watch for those watching eyes of his! Your dream man
will quietly observe from afar. He'll make plenty of attempts to appease
you, and often take thoughtless rebukes of yours to heart. Be careful
with him, girls. This dream guy may be the catch of a lifetime, but he
has a heart that's too easily broken."
Like, what guy on *Earth* could possibly be like that?
"I found your purse, Katzchen. It was under the couch."
Kitty cleared her throat. "Thanks Kurt," she said. "Is it bad luck to
wish you good luck?"
"I don't need luck, leibe. I have skill."
The audience was wowed. Kitty could hear just about every girl in the
auditorium screaming his name. Her head, on the other hand, was so
stuffed full of cotton that she could barely stay awake. _Should've
taken the non-drowsy meds,_ she thought. _Stupid cold._
On the floor, Kurt was balancing a chair on one leg, while he gripped
its upper rail with both hands. Correction. One hand. Correction, he
didn't grip it at all. He was now balanced on the upper corner of the
trembling chair, by the tip of his finger. Thanks to his hologram, the
audience saw two fingers, but they still shrieked with every little
wobble.
With a cry of, "Hop-la!" he tossed himself off the chair, which began
to topple, and turned himself about. He landed on the chair with his
feet, stopping its descent into a potentially bone-breaking crash, and
balancing it on two legs. Then he made the chair walk all the way to the
ladder that lead into the rigging high above.
They lapped it up. He was practically glowing in their adulation, and
proved it by climbing the ladder with just his arms.
"What a show-off," said a voice behind her. Lance. He always seemed to
turn up around her, lately. "I wonder what they'd think if his little
holowatch went -vzt- right in front of everyone?"
Kitty yawned. That was a brand new holowatch. The likelyhood of it
even *thinking* of going {vzt} was extremely remote. _Urgh. Kurt's
philosophy is catching. I'm starting to think those things are alive,
too. I must be sick..._
"Hey, pretty-Kitty. Want me to spice up the show for ya?"
"Lance, don't even think about it," she croaked. Then she cleared her
throat. "Kurt's been like, working on this for like, a whole month. If
you like, *do* anything? I'm like, not going near you for like, three."
"Three months?"
Kitty nodded. God, her head hurt.
Lance sat on his hands. "I'll be good."
The roar of the crowd filled his ears as he stood stock still at the
end of his routine. Damn, it felt good to be in the spotlight again, to
feel the love pouring in from thousands of strangers.
He bowed. Hundreds of girls screamed in delight. The ones that had a
good look at his rump, of course. He obliged the other half of the
audience by turning around and bowing again.
He was loving it.
Sweat was pouring off of him, slicking down his hair and fur. He
wanted nothing more than a that-was-fantastic hug from Kitty and a hot
shower. Not necessarily in that order.
_Ach, just a few more minutes playing to the crowd..._ Kurt grinned,
blowing kisses in random directions. _It can't hurt anyone._
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"
Scott had his fingers in his ears. He had no idea acrobatics was such
a turn on. Otherwise, he'd have paid a little more attention to what
Kurt had been doing in the gym, and tried to borrow a few moves.
Even Amara was screaming her lungs out. Jubes was nearing hysteria,
and Jean - he couldn't help noticing - had thrown the roses Duncan had
bought her onto the auditorium floor.
The gymnastics team, Kurt's follow-up act, were glaring daggers at him
as he played up to the audience. They were doing everything short of
actually carrying him offstage to give him the hint that it was their
turn, now. One of them handed him Jean's roses with a rictus rarely seen
outside of a mauseleum. He could swear he heard the rose-handler say,
"Get. Off."
Kurt pretended to be deaf. He accepted the roses and waved cheerily to
everyone in the auditorium. Then he took his time picking an assortment
of other thrown flowers off the floor.
He was puffing and blowing with exhertion, and practically dripping
sweat, but every girl in the place didn't seem to care. Kurt sat heavily
on a bench and towelled the worst of the sweat off while a cluster of
girls crowded the rails near where he sat. He guzzled water and they
strained themselves to touch him.
Kurt, not being a moron, stayed out of their reach until they returned
to their seats.
The gymnastics team did their level best to wow an audience that was
not really interested in them.
Kurt, having drunk his fill and cooled off a little, carried the
flowers right up to where the X-men were sitting. There was a minor
scuffle for the roses.
"Sorry, ladies," Kurt said, still breathless from his performance,
"but there's only one schone Dame in my eyes worthy enough for roses.
Katzchen?"
"Mrgl?"
"I wasn't *that* boring, was I?"
"Sorry, fuzzy. 'M a little outta focus tonight. Awww. You bought me
roses."
Duncan, seated three rows behind Jean, glowered at Kurt as if he
wished the German to spontaneously combust.
Kurt, oblivious to the rising atmosphere of lust and envy, leaned on
the railing and chatted to Kitty. He only stopped when he noticed the
gathering swarm of girls heading in his general direction.
"That *bitch*!" Tabitha snarled. "If he'd given *me* roses, I'd've
frenched him right there."
"Yeah, but we all know you're sick and twisted, yo."
"Shut up." Tabitha glowered at Kitty for a full minute before her
leering eyes were dragged back to Kurt-watching. "Aw... he's just
*sitting* there."
"So watch the stupid gymnastics display and pipe *down*," rumbled
Fred.
"Rrrrr..." Tabitha stared at the gymnasts. None of them, in her humble
opinion, were as hot as Blue. "This is boring."
Her opinion spread out in a general sussuration of feminine unrest. It
grew into a whisper, then a murmur. Then, someone whose name started with
'T' and ended with 'abitha' started a chant.
"Boooooooooooooooo! We want Kurt! We want Kurt!"
"That does it. I'm gone," said Quicksilver.
"Ditto," said Toad. "I don' wanna get caught in the middle of no riot,
yo."
"We want Kurt! We want Kurt! We want Kurt!"
Good grief, they were starting to stomp along with the chant.
Principal Kelly winced. Hadn't any of these people heard of standing
waves? Or the effect that continuous, rythmic vibration *had* on
stationary structures?
The star of the show was obviously incapable of doing any more tricks.
He'd worn himself out for them, and the gymnastics team was clearly a
poor substitute.
Kelly ran around the floor to where Kurt was sitting. "We've got to do
something before it turns into a *riot*," he said.
"You're," Kurt panted, "kidding me."
"Just step up to the mike and explain that you're tired. Something.
*Anything*."
"Man, I can't even *juggle* right now." Kurt levered himself up and
trudged over to the mike while the gymnasts wished rains of vitriol on
his head.
There was a cheer as he tapped the mike.
"Es ist nice to know I'm so loved," he managed, trying not to pant
down the PA system.
The girls in the audience screamed.
"Please. Please. I can only do so much, you know. And these very
talented people, here," he gestured at the gymnasts, "have been working
twice as hard as me to put together a good show for you all. Give them a
chance, ja?"
The chant started up again.
Kurt waved at them to stop. "I can't do it. I'm sorry. If I try
anything else tonight, I'll faint. That won't be a good show at all,
ja?"
This time, they giggled.
"Come on. This is our trophy winning gymnastics team. Give them a
hand!"
They applauded. The gymnasts actually started liking Kurt again, and
Principal Kelly could relax.
On his way out, Kurt said, "I think it may be better if I hit the
showers, now. Help them forget I was here."
Kelly snorted. "You're welcome to try it, Mister Wagner."
Some people can wear perfume. Some people can't. Of the latter group,
there are two extremes. The first extreme is those people for whom
perfume doesn't stick; it evaporates from their skin in a very short
time and doesn't leave a ghost of its essence around. The other extreme
is the group of people for whom an atom of scent becomes a deluge; they
amplify any essential oils to hit their skin, and have a hard time
getting rid of the artificial scent.
Guess which group Kurt is in.
He couldn't know, for example, that heating his body with excercise or
a hot shower, would only amplify the effects of the generous amount of
D'artagnion For Men already influencing all womankind within sniffing
distance.
He couldn't know that the diminutive amount he'd tried almost a month
ago had taken half a week to wear off. He'd just thought all the girls
were being unusually friendly.
In short, he was becoming a chick magnet.
Kurt emerged from the steam in his tight costume, because he'd
neglected to bring along a change of clothes, and headed for the vending
machines. A little candy and soda would see him through until
dinnertime, and if he was lucky, he could see how the gymnasts were
doing.
Although, from the complete lack of applause coming from inside the
stage, they were probably not doing too terribly well.
Kurt fed change into the machine and punched a code. The little spiral
thingy stopped just short of delivering a large packet of Ju-Juice Boms.
"Verdammt thing..." He shook the machine and jounced the packet loose.
Another string of change and another code resulted in a jammed Choco-
Power bar.
This was getting monotonous.
It was a real pity that repairing school property without proper
authorisation was technically theft, because otherwise, he'd have the
machine gutted, tweaked, and back in full working order. Instead, he had
to settle for shaking and cursing.
"Hey, Blue," Tabitha cooed. "What'd the machine to do you?"
Kurt pointed to the Choco-Power bar that was hanging on the hook of
the spiral thingy by a fold in its wrapper. "It's being a thief," he
said, chewing on one of his Ju-Juice Boms. "I paid for that candy. It's
*mine*."
"I could -ah- fix it for ya."
Kurt raised an eyebrow. It had been three minutes and she hadn't even
tried to take one of his candies. "Can you fix it without blowing it
up?" he asked. "Tonight's performance was to help pay for the incidental
damages that *you* guys wind up causing, you know."
"We appreciated it," she purred. "We really did. And it's my turn to
pay you back, just a li'l." She turned and flying-kicked the vending
machine.
It wobbled on its base, teetering dangerously at one point, before it
settled back into its place. More or less. It also dropped the candy bar
into the collection bin.
"You *are* insane," Kurt laughed, retrieving his Choco-Power bar.
She felt up his backside.
"*HEY*!" Kurt had barely had time to retrieve his candy.
"Just takin' a chance while opportunity knocks, Blue. You have *such*
a nice ass."
Kurt backed away. "Ja, and it comes with accessories." All he had to
do was make it back into a relatively public place. Maybe he could join
the audience or something.
"I always love your ass," Tabitha cornered him somehow and found the
tail under the holographic image. "And the accessories."
Had it been *Kitty* running her hands across that little spot where
his tail departed from his back, he wouldn't have minded so much. But
Kitty never wanted to touch him, and that was the reason he was confused
over Tabitha. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the
blonde mutant used him for something, and she did it so nicely that it
hardly hurt at all, but -- it still hurt.
"You are," she announced in a whisper as she brushed herself up
against him, "*so* Goddamn sexy."
"Hands off him, bitch." It was another of the more - aggressive ladies
of the school. But she usually threw herself at senior jocks. "He's
*mine*."
_Guess I'm temporarily a Jock, tonight._ "Actually, I'm mine," he said
as the girls faced off, sidling away from Tabitha. "And I have to get
going. See ya." He put on a pretty amazing turn of speed, considering
his exhaustion, and wound up cowering in a darkened alcove. _Man. What
was *that* about._
"Oh wow," someone giggled. "I can't believe I found you back here.
This is amazing." She was one of Kitty's friends from computer class.
The quiet one who blushed a lot and hid behind her binder. "I love your
costume. It totally shows off your -ah- assets."
_You mean 'package'._ "I really should have got a new one. This is far
too tight on me, now."
"Oh, *I* think it's perfect," she giggled, turning very pink. "I kinda
like you," she blurted.
It was the D'artagnion. It had to be the D'artagnion. The saleslady
*said* that no woman alive could resist it. He just thought that was a
pitch because Kitty, the one woman he was aiming at, had been able to
casually ignore him. He really, *really* shouldn't have tried to use it
like a deoderant.
"Das ist sweet, really," he said, not wishing to break her heart. "But
I'm sworn to another. I really can't--"
"Hey-yyy..." cooed another female. Rogue's friend Risty. "Fancy
meeting *you* here. Did you know you smell *awfully* nice for a guy
that's been working out?"
"WhoopsisthatthetimeImustbegoing!" Kurt took off before either girl
could get close enough to try feeling him up. Sure, most of him was
covered in lycra, but it was the bits that weren't that were going to be
the most trouble.
He wolfed down the Choco-Power bar and chased it with a generous
handful of Ju-Juice Boms as he ran. He was going to need the energy if
he was going to avoid a mob of scent-crazed women.
He couldn't contact Jean for help. For all he knew, she could be
influenced, too. And Jean had some very large boyfriends who would get
very jealous in a rather short amount of time.
He needed to think.
Somewhat difficult when just about every girl in the place was coming
after him. Some travelled in packs, probably thinking to share him,
while others fought like cats in a sack. Even the odd teacher had a
predatory gleam in her eye.
This was the furthest from a dream come true that he could hope for.
Kurt threw open a window and dived out, running into the night.
Evan blinked. These guys did *not* have rythm. Their timing was out by
a whole quarter-second.
Damn. He'd been hanging around Kurt too long. K-man tended to measure
his acrobatic routine/drill in sixteenths and fourty-eighths of seconds.
*And* he contantly bitched to the Professor about getting a rig set up
somewhere. Rumour had it that he'd completely cleaned out one of the
sub-sub basements, ready to accept it.
He leaned back and tried a little girl-spotting, letting his gaze
drift where it would and hope it'd catch something interesting. That was
when he noticed.
Nothing but guys. All the girls had just - gone. The only ones left
were Aunty O, Rogue and Kitty, who had fallen asleep in her chair.
He elbowed Scott, who was kind of dozing himself. "Hst! Where'd all
the girls go?"
It was a full-out bitch fight. Those that weren't already brawling
were working up to it by swapping the most hideous insults and personal
secrets that Kurt never wanted to hear.
He was stuck on top of a street light, using its glare to hide his
presence from the explosion of women below. At least, up here, he could
hear himself think.
Kurt was too tired for more than one short 'port, preferably in a
southerly direction. The magnetic field of the Earth tended to influence
him heavily whenever he was hungry or tired.
This time, he was both.
_I think it's past time to see if some of the optional extras in this
watch are working,_ he thought, bringing up the comm link and tapping
out an SOS. _Please work, please work, please work..._
{pipipip peepeepeep pipipip}
_Someone had better turn off that pager. It's driving me nuts._
{pipipip peepeepeep pipipip}
_Where *is* the asshole who's got it? I'm gonna pound him, pretty
soon..._
{pipipip peepeepeep pipipip}
_Whoops. It's me. Damn these new commwatches._ Evan blushed and ducked
into a vacant corridor and answered it. "Who's jerkin' around?"
"Evan! Thank you, *yes*. You've got to get Scott and bring the car
around to the corner of Twelfth and Oak. I need a rescue."
_Huh?_ "Why don't you just pop off to the mansion?"
"If I could have, I would have. Just get Scott and get there. Don't
tell any of the girls. Not *one*, you understand?"
Evan raised an eyebrow. "This is getting wierd, but - okay..."
"You should try it where *I* am," said Kurt. "Hurry."
Okay, so that was not only wierd, even for Kurt, but it also sounded
true. Evan hurried back to Scott, the only one allowed to touch his
precious car.
"Scott, wake up!"
"Snx? Wsfgl?"
"Kurt's just sent us an SOS. He needs a bail-out at Twelfth and Oak."
Scott yawned. "Wha' bout--?" he gestured a thumb at the remaining X-
men.
"Forget them, we've gotta book. Aunty O will take 'em in the X-van."
"...mrgh." He staggered down the corridoors to his car. "Where we
goin' again?"
This was going to take a while.
"Okay. So we're here. Where's--"
{Bamf!} "Drive! Schnell!"
"--Kurt." Scott glared at him. "Do I even want to know what's going
on?"
"Didn't you hear me? Move! It's only a matter of time before--" He
looked behind him. "...oh Gott..."
Scott checked it out. Running towards them at full pelt was just about
every female in the school. He planted his foot on the accelerator and
zoomed away from them. "Man. You weren't kidding when you said chicks
dig the fuzzy dude."
"Shut up..."
Evan was staring at Kurt. "Have you gone *insane*? You could have had
the cream of the crop, man..."
"Ja, shortly before the others *killed* her. It's a madhouse, back
there." He leaned back on the seat. "Ohhh... I'm starving. Too much
running."
"All we got are Tic-Tacs, K-man," Evan rattled half a box of them.
"Sorry."
Kurt took them anyway, scarfing them down in less than a second.
"Ugh... I'm so hungry, I'll even eat Kitty's Home Ec. experiments."
"Dude, there's no *way* you could be that hungry. Remember her
cruelty-free mayonnaise?"
There was a mutual shudder.
"Alright, so I'll skip the condiments."
"You *are* starving."
Trouble caught up with him again in the Institute, when he'd finished
telling his story over his fifth plateful of dinner. The rest of the X-
men came home, and that included the girls.
Kitty stomped up to her bedroom without even saying a word.
Rogue drifted in for an out of character hug with her half-brother
before drifting out again, in search of entertainment.
Amara, Jubes and Jean hung around and giggled a lot. They were
definitely friendlier than they usually were towards him. In Amara's
case, stunningly friendlier.
Jubes was the first one to sidle up to him and run her fingertips down
his arm, lingering when she reached the soft fur on his hands. "You
really shouldn't cover up, you know," she said. "Your fur is like, *so*
amazing."
_I wish Kitty thought so._ Because it was night, he could feel where
she was without having to concentrate. She was up in her room, on her
bed, and probably monopolising phone time with Lance.
Kurt couldn't 'get' Kitty liking Lance. The boy had tried to *kill*
her, and there she was, casually flirting with him as if nearly killing
a girl was an opening gambit in the lists of love. Maybe it was some
peculiar American thing. Where he came from, one gently wooed a lady
with softer, prettier things. _Maybe that's why I'm getting nowhere with
her. I'm not nasty enough..._
He sighed, and Amara lifted his head up. "Is something bothering you,
boy?"
That was a rare sign of favour from Amara. He usually got 'peasant'
thrown at him like a casual epithet. They hadn't really got along ever
since she'd arrived, and announced that he, Kurt, could have the
privalege of moving her luggage to 'her suite'. Things escalated after
that when she found out she had to share a room, while Kurt kept one to
himself, *and* his was bigger than hers.
_Curse me for wanting to make friends rather than keep enemies..._
"Ja," he said. "Katzchen."
The room temperature dropped.
"That little bitch."
Kurt didn't want to know who said that. They were under the influence
of D'artagnion For Men. They didn't know what they were doing. "Please.
Don't do anything to her?"
Maybe it was the fact that he'd said 'please'. Maybe it was the broken
way he was sounding, but he could feel the three girls around him power
down.
It was Jean who came out with the cracked and wobbling, "You really
love her, don't you?"
_I can't stand this. It hurts too much._ All the same, he couldn't
stop the confession, now. "I just don't know what to *do*," he said.
"I've tried everything, and it all just bounces off like it doesn't
matter. If only I knew what to do..."
Three female faces quirked up into nasty smiles. They were going to
give him *bad* advice in the hopes that he'd be shot down so badly that
they'd be able to step in.
"Never mind," he sighed. "I need to go change." He 'ported into his
room before anyone could offer to help.
Logan was waiting for him. He did not look happy. "Pretty impressive
stinkwater you bought, Elf. Enjoying the consequences?"
"You won't believe me, so why don't we just skip to the punishment,
ja? It can't make my night much worse." He slouched over to his bed and
fell on it.
"Thought you'd be living it up. You love bein' the centre of
attention."
Kurt couldn't deny that. "Attention, ja. Flat-out lust, nein. They
were *frightening*, Herr Logan."
Logan sniffed, and his feral demeanor dropped. "You actually smell
*upset*," he said. "Underneath that solid layer of I-want-sex *stink*
you're wearin'. Did you even *read* the information sheet?" Logan held
it up.
"I thought it was ad copy," Kurt protested. "That looks a lot like the
brochure."
Logan sighed. "Kurt," a true sign of seriousness. Logan rarely used
names. "This stuff works on a chain reaction. Molecules in this stuff
replicate yer natural pheremones, and fuel that reaction by eatin' up
any bacteria livin' on yer skin."
"Uh... That's - bad. Right?" Curse his trouble with English - the
*other* reason he hadn't read the folded sheet that came with the box.
"On you, that's very bad. You never needed any extra pheremones."
"That's what you say," Kurt murmured. "Kitty seems able to ignore them
just fine."
"Half-pint's had a cold for the past month, Elf. She can't smell a
thing."
"*WHAT*?" How could he not *notice*? "When? She hasn't been
complaining, or acting out of sorts... When did this happen?"
"Near as I figure, she's had it for about a month."
Kurt got up and found a nice wall, then he started pounding at it with
his head. "Dummkopf, dummkopf, dummkopf, *dummkopf*..."
Logan literally picked him up. "Knock that off right now, Elf. We
gotta get that stinkwater off ya before things get crazy."
"What do you mean 'get'? Things *are* crazy! I only bought it in the
first place 'cause she said I smelled bad and -- Gott, ich bin ein
dummkopf..."
Logan carted him to the guy's bathroom. "Yer a teenager, kid. Comes
with the territory. All those hormones scramble yer brains."
Kurt, meanwhile, had started to pray. _*Please* let this stuff come
off with soap? Don't let it come to a bath of tomato juice and
toothpaste? Please?_
_I hate this, I hate this, I hate this..._ Kurt screwed his eyes shut
and shivered as Logan, Mr McCoy and Scott all worked tomato juice into
his fur. It had to be cold, Logan said, because heat helped the active
ingredients in the _D'artagnion For Men_ to work.
"How are you holding up?" Scott asked.
"I want to die," Kurt mumbled. "This is worse than my fifth A-day."
"A-day?"
"I don't have a B-day. Get it?" The half-smile on his face was more of
a grimace. "I got hit by a civet cat." At Scott's confused look, he
added, "Das ist like getting 'skunked'."
"Ew."
"The whole village had to come by and give handy hints. From upwind,
of course." Kurt sighed. "At least the village *knew* me. Here? Who
knows? Somebody might like to gossip."
"Not if *I* have a say in it," said Logan. "Awright. Time to rinse 'im
off before round two."
_I hate this._
Kitty stumbled downstairs in search of a painkiller. _When is this
cold going to like, go *away*?_ Her head hurt, she felt miserable, and
she didn't want to make waves. It'd look like she was playing for
attention after Kurt's big success at the show.
The kitchen was unseasonably warm. Something she secretly appreciated,
what with the chill.
"Gutenabend, Katzchen."
"Like, hi," Kitty almost hadn't seen him there. What was with the
blanket and the hot chocolate?
Kurt sneezed.
_Oh._ "Like, *please* don't tell me I like, gave you my cold?"
"Nein, leibe. I'm just defrosting." He sneezed again. "Why didn't you
*tell* someone you were ill?"
"I can like, handle it. A little decongestant here, some visine there.
Like, half a ton of Tylenol. Like, nobody's the wiser."
"Decongestants are the worst thing for a head cold, leibchen. They
make the virus stick around longer."
"I know, but --" Kitty sighed and flomped into a handy chair. "I
didn't wanna come off like some whiny brat. Not when you were like,
working so hard and everything."
"Idioten, die zwei von uns..." Kurt muttered.
"Whut?"
"Never mind," Kurt stood up and gave his blanket to her. He had his
jammies on. "Here. You can keep this warm for me while I make us some
Schokolade. And some chicken soup."
His second-hand body-heat was extremely comforting. It made half her
headache go away, just like that. Kitty found herself smiling as she
watched him putter around the kitchen, lecturing her on how she had to
indulge herself now that she'd admitted being sick. Half of the placebo
effect, he said, were endorphins. Therefore, the better she made herself
feel, the better she was going to get.
_I *like* that philosphy._
They wound up sharing the blanket in front of a fireplace and sipping
chicken soup together. Kitty secretly revelled in the feel of his very
warm body against hers, and the comforting touch of his fur. She was
always worried that she might offend him by unconsciously petting him,
so she avoided physical contact altogether. This close, however, she
couldn't help but run her hand along his fur.
_So soft..._ he was eminently pet-able. Kitty often found herself just
wanting to rub up to him and snuggle in. She risked a peek at him as she
gently stroked his arm.
He was smiling, and watching her.
Suddenly aware, Kitty blushed and forced herself to let him go. His
tail wrapped itself around her wrist, and gently guided her back.
"I don't mind it, fraulein. Honest. You can pet me any time you want."
Kitty blushed all the harder. "I'm gonna like, totally give you my
cold."
"Then we can nurse each other back to health," he said. "It'll be
fun."
Despite the blush, Kitty grinned. "Sounds like a deal to me, Fuzzy-
elf."
Elsewhere in the mansion, Scott noticed a discarded cologne bottle in
the trash. It was nearly full. He looked at the lable and whistled.
D'artagnion For Men. Expensive stuff to just throw away.
He read some of the blurb that he also rescued from the trash.
_Irresistable to women, eh? Looks like I might not need to learn
acrobatics, after all._ He grinned as he spritzed himself under his
shirt, then jumped up and down a bit to get it warmed up. He put the
bottle and the blurb on his dresser and went off seeking Jean.
She was having a little gossip-on-ice-cream session with the other
girls. Rahne, Amara, Jubilee, Rogue, they were all there. Except Ororo,
who was off doing whatever she did at this time of night, and Kitty, who
was sharing a fireplace with Kurt.
"Hey, ladies," he breezed, leaning on the door.
Five girls got some very predatory grins. "Well, hel*lo*-oooo..." They
giggled.
Scott's grin turned into a rictus. _Maybe I shouldn't have used so
*much*..._