Disclaimer: Marvel owns them, I'm just borrowing them.
Kitten lay on the floor, breathing in the scent of his mate. Strange, the way things worked. He remembered her only faintly from her time in Sinister's laboratory, only knowing that she'd been there for a while, longer than most of Essex's other subjects lasted. He'd liked the look of her, even then, but Sinister had guarded her like a lion standing over it's kill.
Perhaps he'd had something special planned for her. But he'd gone to far, meddled too much, and the little frail had proved more than a match for Sinister – and, indeed, for Sabretooth also.
The other frails he'd known; they screamed, they kicked, and they weren't much of a challenge. To tell the truth, he got quickly bored of them. He'd been expecting this one to fight back a little; looking forward to it even. Love was a battle, he'd heard that somewhere.
Thing was, she hadn't just won the battle, she'd won the whole fucking war.
He inched a little closer to her sleeping form. Dangerous, to provoke her so; he shrugged. For him, the line between pleasure and pain had been blurred for so long, and so often, that he could no longer tell the difference, half the time.
So he closed his eyes again, breathing in the scent of her.
~Mate. Love. Protect. Obey.~
And Storm, her faithful Kitten at her feet, slept on.
Kitty poked her head through the door. Scott practically jumped out of his skin. Couldn't she knock before doing that?
Kurt seemed to agree, because he'd just emerged from the shower with a towel round his waist and now turned bright purple.
"Katzchen!" he yelled, grabbing some clothes and disappearing back into the bathroom.
"Vas?" she returned, in a passable imitation of her friend.
Still laughing, the rest of her passed through the door. As usual, Scott felt his heart do a backflip; the sight of Kitty did that to him somehow. He slipped the pad on which he'd been sketching under his pillow, and smiled up at her.
"Come on, we're going to the mall. The Prof's wont let me drive for two weeks, just because I put a tiny little dent in one of the cars…"
He'd seen the dent in question; it ran halfway across one of the doors of the black Ferrari, the one he'd been told the students were never, ever, ever, to drive.
"…so anyway, the only one around at the moment is Wolverine, 'cos Jean's still kinda a wreck and Remy's still in the med-lab, and Beast's looking after them and Bobby's a worse driver then I am; with Wolverine chaperoning, we wont be able to get half the stuff I was planning on, but never mind, we can still get you some new clothes and things."
He stood up, a little self-conscious, because even with all the food they'd been shoving in his direction, his borrowed clothes still hung loosely off his frame; the trousers barely holding up even with a belt.
"Elf!"
"Vas?" The now clothed Kurt re-emerged from the bathroom.
"You wanna come to the mall?"
Kurt shrugged. "Who else is coming?"
"Scott and Wolverine."
Grabbing the image inducer Hank had given him off the dresser, Kurt grinned widely.
"Lo.." He started. "I mean, Wolverine, with you, at the mall? Ja, I'll tag along. This I gotta see."
The mall was crowded. Really crowded. Scott shivered. He hated crowds.
"Are you alright?" asked Kitty.
"Crowds." he explained, tersely. So many people. Any one of them might be Mystique. Storm and Rogue and Betsey could be hiding around any corner.
He felt a hand wrap around his own and looked down in amazement, to see Kitty's fingers intertwining with his own. He smiled shyly at her, and she grinned back – and then began dragging him along after the figure of Wolverine, rapidly advancing.
"Come on, he's getting away!"
"Why do you care?" asked Kurt.
"He's got the money."
"Ah."
Wolverine was pacing, much to Kurt's obvious amusement, as Kitty scrutinized the latest outfit she'd had Scott try on. He'd informed her that there were already more things in the large 'absolutely must, must, have this' pile in the cart then he had ever owned in his life. But did that stop her?
"I don't know." she said, cocking her head at him. "I can't decide whether I like the green or the blue tee better with those jeans."
Wolverine growled from his spot in the corner. "Just get both, dammit."
She wandered away from Scott and up to him, still smiling brightly.
"You know, we don't need a chaperone all the time. You could go have a wander round and meet us in, say, an hour or so?"
"I'm old, kid. I'm not stupid." was her reply. "Get the t-shirts, get the jeans, get anything else the boy needs and lets get the hell out of here."
"But…"
"But nothing. I leave fer an hour and yer wardrobe magically doubles in size."
Kurt laughed. "You forget, Katzchen, Jubilee already pulled that trick on him." He frowned suddenly. "Speaking of which, why isn't she here? It's not like her to miss out on a visit to the Mother Ship."
Kitty pulled a face at him, adding the aforementioned blue t-shirt into the growing to-buy pile.
"I was going to ask her, but then I walked in on her and Bobby playing tonsil hockey. So gross."
"Phased in on her, you mean. That'll teach you to knock, Katzchen."
Kitty shrugged. "Actually, it probably wont. Hey, where did Scott go?"
"Probably ta change." suggested Wolverine. "Boy's probably as sick of this place as I am."
"But there's still a bunch of shirts he needs to try on!" wailed Kitty. Running into the changing rooms, she quickly knocked on the door.
"Hey Scott?"
"Yeah?"
"You still go those jeans on?"
A pause. "Yes."
"Great!" she said, phasing through the door without further thought. " 'cause there's a heap more stuff to try on, and… oh."
Scott only had the jeans on, and she could see the bruises, fading to yellow now, and several faint scars. His ribs were visible, poking out against his skin. She'd heard about his injuries second hand, but she'd been knocked out by Storm when they'd rescued him, and by the time she'd woken up he'd been in the med-lab, and covered up. Nothing could have prepared her for the reality of what he'd gone through.
"I'm sorry." she said quietly. "These are all the same size; I'm sure they'll fit. I'll just go and put them with the rest."
She reached out to touch his shoulder; he flinched from the contact.
"Sorry." he said quietly. "Force of habit."
Tears in her eyes, she nodded, and backed out.
Wolverine quirked an eyebrow, but she just dumped the extra t-shirts in the trolley, and sat down.
"What happened?" Kurt asked softly. She didn't reply.
~That'll teach me to knock.~
Wolverine was alone in the gym, a thin sheen of sweat covering him. He'd already worked his way through several of his 'relaxation' exercises; they hadn't worked.
Now he was settling for beating the shit out of the punching bag.
He'd got into a rhythm, and now he probably wouldn't stop 'till Kurt came and dragged him away.
LeBeau's girl, LeBeau's girl, LeBeau's girl.
They'd still been firmly ensconced in the med-lab when he'd returned from the mall, the smell of strawberries and spice and the complaints from Hank about them turning his work-space into 'Lovers Lane'.
LeBeau's girl, LeBeau's girl, LeBeau's girl.
Why did she matter to him so much? Because she reminded him of one glorious summer in Prague? Because she cared for her cause with such a fierceness that every failure, every setback, seemed to strike her like a knife through the heart?
Because he loved… Nope. Not going there.
The rhythm of his fists against the punching back sped up; but it didn't block out the sound of the descending helicopter, nor interfere with the scent now brushing against his senses.
He let the rhythm drop, now grinning savagely.
The perfect person to take his anger out on. What perfect timing. How nice of her.
He aimed one last uppercut at the punching bag, then stalked out to greet their guest.
A/N: Next up: The mystery guest revealed, Logan gets pissy, Kurt finds out about the 'grandfather' thing, and Scott and Kitty… may or may not be in the chapter, I haven't decided yet. Meanwhile, what the heck are the Sisterhood planning?
A/N (2): Rhapsody, I think you can take a guess at where Kitten's head was going g. The pixies? They live inside my head… They control my thoughts… They kidnapped Elvis and are holding him against his will… And most dastardly of all – they make me write fan-fiction. Here, have one. (hands Rhapsody a un-moving pixie with a rather surprised look on his face). I asked the others to stuff him for me. Live ones are just too much trouble, I wouldn't want to wish them on anyone else.