------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Whoops. Was that a suggestion of slash at the bottom of the last chapter? Yes. Yes, it was. I don't plan to make it easy on either Kurt or Pietro, however. Fairy tales (no pun intended) are great, but 'and they lived happily ever after' tends to make people yawn. Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please.
Cheers.
Jack
------
Kurt avoided me for the rest of the afternoon, which suited me just fine. To say I was confused and unsure what to do about him was a gross understatement. Not for the first time did I wish I could just pound on the problem until it went away. The likelihood of that happening was rather slim, however.
I would have preferred to talk to Ms. Munroe about this. I couldn't bring myself to call her Ororo, since I'd known her from my past. Of all the adults at the school, she was the only one I really felt comfortable talking with. This stemmed from the fact that my foster parents had lived next door to her sister and brother-in-law and so I'd seen her nearly every week for several years. She'd always found the time to talk to me, whether it was on my back porch or while playing street baseball with Evan. This was before he and I grew to loathe one another, of course. Unfortunately, as I found out at supper that evening, she and her group of students were spending the night in Albany for that museum trip.
Lance would have been my second choice. The two of us pretty much leaned on each other for the past year or more and I knew I'd get a straight answer out of him. As it turned out, he was on the trip with Ms. Munroe. Xavier was likewise occupied, as were Hank and Doctor MacTaggart. Apparently the Iceman's coma was the product of the White Queen and Uncle Charles was intent on fixing whatever she'd done. As soon as the table was cleared, those three had disappeared into the clinic downstairs. Sean's group wasn't expected back from the City until late that evening, which left me alone with the last person on earth I wanted to open up to.
Not that I had a choice in the matter. If I didn't talk to someone about this and get an indication of how to proceed, I'd probably screw up. Big time.
I shook my head, glancing at Summers. We were sitting in the recreation room...recreating. He was propped up on the couch with his nose deep inside a fairly well-worn copy of 'War and Peace,' which should give you some idea of just how dull the guy could be. I'd spent the last thirty minutes half-heartedly playing with the Xbox, but I couldn't really keep my mind on the game. The stereo system was belting out music from well before he or I had even been conceived. Summers' taste in music, judging from what I'd heard so far, left a lot to be desired.
Rock music from the fifties and sixties tends to run heavily toward the tragic love song, which certainly wasn't helping me figure out what to do.
After listening to yet another 'true love' die in a horrendous car accident, I tossed the controller aside and folded my arms over my chest. Summers had helped me get comfortable on the floor when I'd groused one too many times about the chair. I was leaning with my back against the head of the couch, useless legs pointing toward the television.
"Can I ask you something, Summers?" I said as Elvis came onto the radio. God save us from the King, I thought impishly. I took a sip from the can of ginger ale I'd brought along.
"You just did," he replied from above and behind me. I heard a page turn.
"Har-de-har-har, smart guy. You don't have to try to be funny on my account."
His book thumped onto the coffee table next to the couch. "What's up?"
My mouth went dry. I hadn't planned on having this conversation with Scott 'So Clean, I Sparkle' Summers and was having trouble putting thoughts into words. Actually, I was having trouble thinking straight at the moment. What was I going to tell him, that his blue-furred buddy had a thing for me and that I was flipping out because I didn't know how to handle it? I could tell he was expecting me to say something, however, so I tried anyway.
"I've sort of got a problem," I said slowly, trying to find a delicate way of saying it.
I felt his hand on my shoulder. "You've got two problems. They're wearing Levi's at the moment." There was an edge of humor in his voice and I toyed with the idea of breaking his fingers. He'd been the single most boring person I'd ever met right up until I woke up to him babysitting me that morning. The new, dubiously-improved Summers was not entirely to my liking.
"I'm trying to be serious here," I growled. Jerkwad, I mentally added.
"Sorry." He sounded sincere, too. The couch moved behind me and he slid off, moving down next to me. I smirked when he landed on the Xbox controller. He flipped it out of his way with a yelp and looked at me. The smirk faded and I avoided his gaze. "Seriously, if I can do something just ask." You can stop being such a Boy Scout, I thought, but then I shook my head slightly. No, I didn't mean that. Not really, anyway. If nothing else, the fact he was willing to help was a good sign.
"It's hard to explain," I muttered. I sighed, still groping for a way to put this into words. "Suppose someone, Person A, likes you, but is going out with Person B at the moment. And you think you're interested in Person C. Person A seems like a nice enough...uh, person...but you hadn't given...them...any thought. It's kind of complicated," I added lamely.
Summers drew his legs to his chest and leaned his chin on his knees.
"You're right. That does sound complicated." Thank you, Captain Obvious. "If you're not careful, you could end up with Person A and Person C both not liking you." I nodded. That was one of the things I was afraid would happen. Xavier wanted me to fit in and that wouldn't happen if I continued to piss people off. If I wasn't careful I'd end up alienating Kurt and Rahne, who both showed an interest in me. I wasn't sure about either of them, to be honest. It wasn't out of any lack of feeling, however, but rather because I had bigger problems without getting into any messy relationships.
"I know," I said. "I wish there was an easy way out of this." I picked up the soda again, tipping my head back and guzzling it like a can of beer.
He shrugged. "Have you thought about asking Kurt why he's so interested in you?"
I choked and snorted simultaneously, a combination made worse by the fact that I was drinking at the time. Ginger ale burns like hell when it comes out your nose, I should add. To make matters worse, I'd swung my head toward Summers when he'd mentioned Kurt's name, and so I wasn't the only one to get drenched.
"Sorry." I spluttered and could feel my eyes tearing up from the soda. I rubbed at them with the back of my hand, which did little to stop the burning sensation but may have helped my confusion. I tried again. "Sorry, what was that?"
Summers smiled, eyes held tightly shut as he wiped his glasses off. A few stray droplets of ginger ale ran down his face, but he apparently didn't care. He was having far, far too much fun at my expense for a little wetness to slow him down. He put his sunglasses back on and squeezed my shoulder.
"You're not the only person who talks to me, Pietro," he said with a chuckle. "I guess I'm just easy to talk to. Most of the guys around here come to me when they have problems." He shrugged, still grinning. "They don't want to bother the Professor with things like this. Maybe they think he's too old to remember what it was like to be in high school." Had to admit, Summers was pretty much right. I'd have sooner danced naked on top of Bayside High than talk to my dear Uncle Charles about Kurt and his crush.
"How long have you known," I said flatly, trying my hardest to glare at him. It wasn't easy, since my sinuses still tingled and I could feel my shirt clinging to my chest where the soda had soaked through. I had to try, though. I'm sure he expected it of me.
"About three weeks, give or take," he said after a moment. "He called me in Hawaii the night before you guys went out to Colorado." Great, just great.
"Does anyone else know?" I let an edge of bitterness creep into my voice. Why was I always the last person to find out about these things? He ignored my swelling attitude, which was probably for the best. I was on the verge of losing my temper and he was conveniently within reach.
"Just Alex and Jean," he said. I groaned. That was two people too many. "My brother was standing next to me while I was on the telephone." He shot a wry grin my way. "And it's really hard to keep secrets from my girlfriend, considering she's a telepath and all."
I sighed. "I suppose Xavier has managed to pick it out of your skull already. Just freakin' wonderful." To my surprise, he shook his head.
"No, Jean's been helping the two of us cloud our minds." He frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder if she's been doing the same with Kurt," he added to himself. I had no idea, so instead I tried to turn this conversation back to its original course.
"So I guess you've had more time to think this through than I have. What should I do?"
Man, I sounded like such a weenie. Do you have any idea just how weird it felt opening my heart to someone I just plain didn't like? He shrugged again.
"I have no idea. I can't really tell you what to do."
"You're such a great help, Summers."
He bristled. "Hey, I said people come to me with problems. I never said I always had the answers." Good point. "If you want an opinion, though, I'd say test the waters with both of them and go from there." Both of them? It took a moment to realize he was talking about Rahne. It struck me that I'd just spent the last several minutes picturing Kurt in my mind and had forgotten all about the little Scottish girl. Yikes.
I shook my head. "Date both of them? Are you nuts?"
"You asked what I thought."
"That was before I found out you were insane."
He laughed at that. I couldn't help but laugh along with him. It was an absurd situation to begin with and all I was doing was making it stranger than it had to be. I guess he had a point, though. If nothing else, I'd learn more about both Rahne and Kurt if I actually went out with them rather than just fretted about it. Maybe I'd learn more about how I felt, too.
"Thanks, Summers," I said, still chuckling. "For an uptight, squeaky- clean, overbearing clod you're not half-bad."
This caused him to laugh even harder. "You know for a foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you're not so bad yourself," he said between gasps. That set me off again and both of us howled with laughter, slumping against one another for support. All things considered, it was a pretty funny situation. We both laughed long and hard and so neither of us noticed the door open. It wasn't until a shadow passed over both of us that I realized we had company.
Logan looked down at us with a puzzled frown, taking in the television, the Xbox system, the book and the fact that both Summers and I were coated in rapidly-drying ginger ale with quick flickers of his eyes. The man squinted at us as though he'd never seen us before, which made sense since I don't think Summers and I had ever had reason to laugh about anything together. I nudged my partner in mirth and pointed up at Logan.
Summers managed to get his laughter under enough control to look up. "Hi Logan," he said. I waved. Logan rolled his eyes.
"Do I wanna know what you kids are laughing about?"
"Probably not," I said. I was still giggling, which drew the big man's gaze in my direction.
"Definitely not," Summers said at the same time. He and I exchanged a look and it took a lot of willpower not to start laughing again. "We'll be a little quieter if you want."
Logan shook his head, which surprised me. He didn't strike me as the type to enjoy a good hearty laugh on occasion. No, he seemed more like the kind of person who would cheerfully slaughter you if you so much as snickered in his direction.
No sense of humor is what I'm trying to say.
"Not necessary, boys." Logan grinned at me and the smile didn't reach his eyes. I took note of the fact that he had sharp incisors. Not quite fangs but close enough for discomfort. "Moira wanted to let you know that our buddy here," he said to Summers, flicking his chin at me, "has a nice hot bath ready and waiting for him in the ground-floor tub. She also said to tell you that Speedy's bandages were to come off." All remaining traces of laughter I had in me died off at that point, much to Logan's satisfaction.
"Great." I said. My enthusiasm was forced. It was hard to look forward to any activity in which I had to have help, but bathing was near the bottom of the list. Perhaps if I could convince these two I wouldn't drown they'd just leave me in the bathroom. Yeah, right. Summers stood up.
"Do I have to have an audience?" I said plaintively. Oh, all right: I whined.
"Come on, it won't be that bad," he said. I muttered something obscene under my breath as he gathered me into his arms. It wasn't quiet enough because he set me into the wheelchair with a frown. "I don't bend that way, thank you very much."
One corner of Logan's mouth was turned up into a sort of smirk. "I'll leave you two girls alone. Enjoy your bath," he grunted in an amused tone before leaving.
I groused the entire length of the hallway. I ranted at Summers. I threatened him. I even tried begging, which probably came out a little stilted considering I didn't do it that often. Nothing fazed the guy, which was a little unnerving. As we went through the stair ritual again, I had a brief fantasy about crawling away from him while he fetched my chair. That was a little premature, apparently, because the first thing I saw when he carried me to the bottom of the steps was a second wheelchair. Someone had the bright idea of putting a second one on the ground floor so that the original wouldn't have to be lugged all over the place.
Summers pretty much confirmed that. "I got tired of dragging that thing up and down the stairs," he said by way of explanation. I just sulked, doing my best to ignore him.
The ground-floor bathroom was the size of one of the bedrooms. I'm not exaggerating, either. It was done in the same marble flooring as the foyer and was split into several separate areas. It actually reminded me of a public bathroom, the way the sinks (there were four) were the first thing we passed as he wheeled me in. Beyond that was a couple toilet stalls and beyond those was the largest bathtub I'd ever laid eyes on.
Hugh Hefner could have held a party in that thing, I kid you not. As my eyes wandered over the wide expanse of bubbles I imagined myself soaking in that thing while surrounded by the X-Girls: Jean, Kitty, Rogue, and Rahne. Yum. Out of curiosity, I tried to imagine Kurt in the same tub. I shook my head. No matter how hard I tried, I pictured him looking like a wet cat. I could imagine him leaning against the side, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at whoever tossed him in there. He didn't seem like a bath kinda guy. Maybe a shower.
Summers misinterpreted my movement. "Can't back out now," he said with the same undertone of amusement Logan had used. The images fell from my mind. Without another word, I peeled off my shirt and dropped it. The ginger ale had dried, for the most part, to a sticky mess. Darn it. I unsnapped my jeans and then stopped.
All right, so I was uncomfortable with Summers hanging around as I stripped down to my birthday suit. To be honest, that wasn't why I'd paused - though it loomed fairly large in my mind. Truth is, I couldn't figure out how to get my pants off.
I felt myself starting to blush again and did my best to will it away.
"Could I get a little help here," I said shortly. "I can't get out of these." Summers moved into view, looking carefully at me and the chair. He wasn't checking me out, just trying to think of a solution. I'm not sure which relieved me more: the fact that he didn't seem to give a hoot that I was half-naked in front of him or the fact that he didn't make any smart remarks about the whole thing.
Maybe - just maybe - I could get to like this guy.
We finally settled on a strange arrangement. He stood behind me and slid his arms under mine. With a grunt he lifted me up out of the chair for a brief moment, allowing me to get my pants down to a point where I wasn't sitting on them. I hadn't realized just how much dead weight I was carrying around up until then. I struggled a bit, trying to get the jeans all the way off.
I almost shrieked like a girl when he moved back in front of me and tugged them all the way off.
"Hey!" I felt like certain parts of me were going to just crawl up into my belly, if you get my drift. This had to rate as the single most uncomfortable thing I'd ever done. My heart sank. And I was going to have to do this every day for how long?
"What are you griping about?" he said with a shrug, carefully folding the jeans and setting them on a low table by the tub. I didn't look at him, nor did I try to cover myself. That would imply I was ashamed, which I certainly wasn't. Embarrassed to the point where I thought my head would explode from the extra blood flow, yes. But not ashamed. "We've both showered after gym class," he went on, ignoring the fact that I resembled nothing more than a large, human-shaped turnip in terms of coloring. He actually had the temerity to laugh slightly. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."
I didn't say anything. I just didn't trust my mouth.
He didn't press the issue. Instead, he pointed at the bandages which were still wound around my midsection. I noticed that they'd been changed at some point, probably last night after somebody had found me out by the cliff. They were clean, no sign of the ugliness underneath.
"Yeah, I guess I'd better get them off." I made no move to unwrap them. I didn't want to see what was under those white linen strips. It was bad enough that the rest of my torso was mottled with all the colors of the rainbow.
"Doctor MacTaggart would have my hide if I let you keep them on in the tub," Summers said. When I still didn't move, he reached out and started unwrapping them himself. My hands moved into my lap of their own volition, covering my nakedness as he did so. He didn't comment on this, which was good.
I stared down my body as he unwound the bandages, carefully winding it around his hand. I hadn't noticed before, but there wasn't much underneath. After a few moments, a gauze pad about the size of a playing card was revealed. There was the tiniest red spot on it, surrounded by a sickly greenish ooze. I was a little surprised that it didn't smell bad at all, which I supposed was a good sign. Infections always reeked, didn't they?
I finally had to move my hands to hold the pad in place as he finished unwrapping the linen. While he set that aside, I carefully peeled the pad away from my belly. It clung slightly, making me wince.
"Holy crap," I whispered. I guess I'd expected something...I don't know...larger. The only evidence of my father's vicious act was a tiny red dot about an inch above my navel in the center of a particularly nasty black bruise. I gingerly touched it and felt a slight twinge. I felt warm air on my lower back as Summers tugged the other pad off my back. Obviously I couldn't see that one, but I suspected it looked the same.
"No kidding," he said quietly. I knew from the look on his face that we both were thinking of Magneto and his seemingly random act of violence. He shook his head, as though to clear it, and rose. I watched mutely as he threw the pads into a garbage can. Why had Dad done this to me? He could have turned the needle aside, I thought. I didn't think I was being delusional, either. After all, the man styled himself the 'Master of Magnetism.' Wouldn't that imply enough control to make a simple object avoid skewering his own son like a lamb on a spit?
I looked back up as Summers pulled his shirt over his head and couldn't help myself. Whenever I feel threatened, I make smart-assed remarks. It's a defense mechanism, all right?
"I hope you're not thinking of joining me," I said in a dry tone. He smiled and raised his eyebrows.
"Not in the slightest," he said as he scooped me out of the chair. The muscles in my back and stomach protested at the movement. The linen must have been supporting them more than I'd thought. This freakin' hurt like hell. "But I don't plan to get soaked on your account, either. Make sure my shades don't slip off, would you?"
I noticed that the steam from the bath had condensed on his nose and, indeed, his glasses were threatening to slide down. Again, my mouth left me in the dust.
"And what if I don't?"
He raised an eyebrow and turned his head, looking into my eyes.
"Because if they slip off, you can kiss your family jewels goodbye." I looked down and realized that his head was indeed over my groin. The man had a point. I pushed his specs up his nose in response.
The water was very hot, just the way I like it. I leaned back against the side of the tub, enjoying the feel of the smooth marble. I watched, drowsing slightly, as Summers toweled off his arms and chest. After he slipped his shirt back on, he turned around and sat down on the edge of the tub.
"You know," he said with a silly grin. "It's a good thing I was the one to help you with this tonight. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. Images of Rahne and Kurt flitted behind my eyelids as I let myself relax. A little Rahne, that is, but mostly Kurt for whatever reason. I smiled to myself. The more I thought about it, the better he looked. If I fell asleep thinking about that fur ball...well, I wouldn't complain.
"Mm. Why do you say that?" I asked with a yawn.
"Well, imagine if Kurt had been the one watching after you tonight."
My eyes shot open and I looked over at him suspiciously. "Tell me you're not a telepath."
"I'm not a telepath," Summers chuckled.
"How could you possibly have known I was thinking about him just now?"
He shook his head. "I didn't know - I just guessed." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at me. "I'm also pretty good at reading body language."
I followed his eyes down. Sure enough, Mr. Happy was staring back at me, ready for action. I wanted to die. Instead I scooped a thick stack of bubbles over me and pointed a dripping hand toward the door.
"Get out of here," I snarled.
He left, that damn smile still playing about his lips.
"I'll be back in an hour to help you dry off," he said on his way out. He waved. I didn't.
Instead, I flipped the bird at his receding back, biting back a curse. Not that I wasn't pissed or anything. It's just that it would echo all over the damn house and the last thing I wanted at the moment was an audience. I slid a little lower into the water, feeling irritation for the turn my life had taken.
------
To Be Continued.
------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Whoops. Was that a suggestion of slash at the bottom of the last chapter? Yes. Yes, it was. I don't plan to make it easy on either Kurt or Pietro, however. Fairy tales (no pun intended) are great, but 'and they lived happily ever after' tends to make people yawn. Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please.
Cheers.
Jack
------
Kurt avoided me for the rest of the afternoon, which suited me just fine. To say I was confused and unsure what to do about him was a gross understatement. Not for the first time did I wish I could just pound on the problem until it went away. The likelihood of that happening was rather slim, however.
I would have preferred to talk to Ms. Munroe about this. I couldn't bring myself to call her Ororo, since I'd known her from my past. Of all the adults at the school, she was the only one I really felt comfortable talking with. This stemmed from the fact that my foster parents had lived next door to her sister and brother-in-law and so I'd seen her nearly every week for several years. She'd always found the time to talk to me, whether it was on my back porch or while playing street baseball with Evan. This was before he and I grew to loathe one another, of course. Unfortunately, as I found out at supper that evening, she and her group of students were spending the night in Albany for that museum trip.
Lance would have been my second choice. The two of us pretty much leaned on each other for the past year or more and I knew I'd get a straight answer out of him. As it turned out, he was on the trip with Ms. Munroe. Xavier was likewise occupied, as were Hank and Doctor MacTaggart. Apparently the Iceman's coma was the product of the White Queen and Uncle Charles was intent on fixing whatever she'd done. As soon as the table was cleared, those three had disappeared into the clinic downstairs. Sean's group wasn't expected back from the City until late that evening, which left me alone with the last person on earth I wanted to open up to.
Not that I had a choice in the matter. If I didn't talk to someone about this and get an indication of how to proceed, I'd probably screw up. Big time.
I shook my head, glancing at Summers. We were sitting in the recreation room...recreating. He was propped up on the couch with his nose deep inside a fairly well-worn copy of 'War and Peace,' which should give you some idea of just how dull the guy could be. I'd spent the last thirty minutes half-heartedly playing with the Xbox, but I couldn't really keep my mind on the game. The stereo system was belting out music from well before he or I had even been conceived. Summers' taste in music, judging from what I'd heard so far, left a lot to be desired.
Rock music from the fifties and sixties tends to run heavily toward the tragic love song, which certainly wasn't helping me figure out what to do.
After listening to yet another 'true love' die in a horrendous car accident, I tossed the controller aside and folded my arms over my chest. Summers had helped me get comfortable on the floor when I'd groused one too many times about the chair. I was leaning with my back against the head of the couch, useless legs pointing toward the television.
"Can I ask you something, Summers?" I said as Elvis came onto the radio. God save us from the King, I thought impishly. I took a sip from the can of ginger ale I'd brought along.
"You just did," he replied from above and behind me. I heard a page turn.
"Har-de-har-har, smart guy. You don't have to try to be funny on my account."
His book thumped onto the coffee table next to the couch. "What's up?"
My mouth went dry. I hadn't planned on having this conversation with Scott 'So Clean, I Sparkle' Summers and was having trouble putting thoughts into words. Actually, I was having trouble thinking straight at the moment. What was I going to tell him, that his blue-furred buddy had a thing for me and that I was flipping out because I didn't know how to handle it? I could tell he was expecting me to say something, however, so I tried anyway.
"I've sort of got a problem," I said slowly, trying to find a delicate way of saying it.
I felt his hand on my shoulder. "You've got two problems. They're wearing Levi's at the moment." There was an edge of humor in his voice and I toyed with the idea of breaking his fingers. He'd been the single most boring person I'd ever met right up until I woke up to him babysitting me that morning. The new, dubiously-improved Summers was not entirely to my liking.
"I'm trying to be serious here," I growled. Jerkwad, I mentally added.
"Sorry." He sounded sincere, too. The couch moved behind me and he slid off, moving down next to me. I smirked when he landed on the Xbox controller. He flipped it out of his way with a yelp and looked at me. The smirk faded and I avoided his gaze. "Seriously, if I can do something just ask." You can stop being such a Boy Scout, I thought, but then I shook my head slightly. No, I didn't mean that. Not really, anyway. If nothing else, the fact he was willing to help was a good sign.
"It's hard to explain," I muttered. I sighed, still groping for a way to put this into words. "Suppose someone, Person A, likes you, but is going out with Person B at the moment. And you think you're interested in Person C. Person A seems like a nice enough...uh, person...but you hadn't given...them...any thought. It's kind of complicated," I added lamely.
Summers drew his legs to his chest and leaned his chin on his knees.
"You're right. That does sound complicated." Thank you, Captain Obvious. "If you're not careful, you could end up with Person A and Person C both not liking you." I nodded. That was one of the things I was afraid would happen. Xavier wanted me to fit in and that wouldn't happen if I continued to piss people off. If I wasn't careful I'd end up alienating Kurt and Rahne, who both showed an interest in me. I wasn't sure about either of them, to be honest. It wasn't out of any lack of feeling, however, but rather because I had bigger problems without getting into any messy relationships.
"I know," I said. "I wish there was an easy way out of this." I picked up the soda again, tipping my head back and guzzling it like a can of beer.
He shrugged. "Have you thought about asking Kurt why he's so interested in you?"
I choked and snorted simultaneously, a combination made worse by the fact that I was drinking at the time. Ginger ale burns like hell when it comes out your nose, I should add. To make matters worse, I'd swung my head toward Summers when he'd mentioned Kurt's name, and so I wasn't the only one to get drenched.
"Sorry." I spluttered and could feel my eyes tearing up from the soda. I rubbed at them with the back of my hand, which did little to stop the burning sensation but may have helped my confusion. I tried again. "Sorry, what was that?"
Summers smiled, eyes held tightly shut as he wiped his glasses off. A few stray droplets of ginger ale ran down his face, but he apparently didn't care. He was having far, far too much fun at my expense for a little wetness to slow him down. He put his sunglasses back on and squeezed my shoulder.
"You're not the only person who talks to me, Pietro," he said with a chuckle. "I guess I'm just easy to talk to. Most of the guys around here come to me when they have problems." He shrugged, still grinning. "They don't want to bother the Professor with things like this. Maybe they think he's too old to remember what it was like to be in high school." Had to admit, Summers was pretty much right. I'd have sooner danced naked on top of Bayside High than talk to my dear Uncle Charles about Kurt and his crush.
"How long have you known," I said flatly, trying my hardest to glare at him. It wasn't easy, since my sinuses still tingled and I could feel my shirt clinging to my chest where the soda had soaked through. I had to try, though. I'm sure he expected it of me.
"About three weeks, give or take," he said after a moment. "He called me in Hawaii the night before you guys went out to Colorado." Great, just great.
"Does anyone else know?" I let an edge of bitterness creep into my voice. Why was I always the last person to find out about these things? He ignored my swelling attitude, which was probably for the best. I was on the verge of losing my temper and he was conveniently within reach.
"Just Alex and Jean," he said. I groaned. That was two people too many. "My brother was standing next to me while I was on the telephone." He shot a wry grin my way. "And it's really hard to keep secrets from my girlfriend, considering she's a telepath and all."
I sighed. "I suppose Xavier has managed to pick it out of your skull already. Just freakin' wonderful." To my surprise, he shook his head.
"No, Jean's been helping the two of us cloud our minds." He frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder if she's been doing the same with Kurt," he added to himself. I had no idea, so instead I tried to turn this conversation back to its original course.
"So I guess you've had more time to think this through than I have. What should I do?"
Man, I sounded like such a weenie. Do you have any idea just how weird it felt opening my heart to someone I just plain didn't like? He shrugged again.
"I have no idea. I can't really tell you what to do."
"You're such a great help, Summers."
He bristled. "Hey, I said people come to me with problems. I never said I always had the answers." Good point. "If you want an opinion, though, I'd say test the waters with both of them and go from there." Both of them? It took a moment to realize he was talking about Rahne. It struck me that I'd just spent the last several minutes picturing Kurt in my mind and had forgotten all about the little Scottish girl. Yikes.
I shook my head. "Date both of them? Are you nuts?"
"You asked what I thought."
"That was before I found out you were insane."
He laughed at that. I couldn't help but laugh along with him. It was an absurd situation to begin with and all I was doing was making it stranger than it had to be. I guess he had a point, though. If nothing else, I'd learn more about both Rahne and Kurt if I actually went out with them rather than just fretted about it. Maybe I'd learn more about how I felt, too.
"Thanks, Summers," I said, still chuckling. "For an uptight, squeaky- clean, overbearing clod you're not half-bad."
This caused him to laugh even harder. "You know for a foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you're not so bad yourself," he said between gasps. That set me off again and both of us howled with laughter, slumping against one another for support. All things considered, it was a pretty funny situation. We both laughed long and hard and so neither of us noticed the door open. It wasn't until a shadow passed over both of us that I realized we had company.
Logan looked down at us with a puzzled frown, taking in the television, the Xbox system, the book and the fact that both Summers and I were coated in rapidly-drying ginger ale with quick flickers of his eyes. The man squinted at us as though he'd never seen us before, which made sense since I don't think Summers and I had ever had reason to laugh about anything together. I nudged my partner in mirth and pointed up at Logan.
Summers managed to get his laughter under enough control to look up. "Hi Logan," he said. I waved. Logan rolled his eyes.
"Do I wanna know what you kids are laughing about?"
"Probably not," I said. I was still giggling, which drew the big man's gaze in my direction.
"Definitely not," Summers said at the same time. He and I exchanged a look and it took a lot of willpower not to start laughing again. "We'll be a little quieter if you want."
Logan shook his head, which surprised me. He didn't strike me as the type to enjoy a good hearty laugh on occasion. No, he seemed more like the kind of person who would cheerfully slaughter you if you so much as snickered in his direction.
No sense of humor is what I'm trying to say.
"Not necessary, boys." Logan grinned at me and the smile didn't reach his eyes. I took note of the fact that he had sharp incisors. Not quite fangs but close enough for discomfort. "Moira wanted to let you know that our buddy here," he said to Summers, flicking his chin at me, "has a nice hot bath ready and waiting for him in the ground-floor tub. She also said to tell you that Speedy's bandages were to come off." All remaining traces of laughter I had in me died off at that point, much to Logan's satisfaction.
"Great." I said. My enthusiasm was forced. It was hard to look forward to any activity in which I had to have help, but bathing was near the bottom of the list. Perhaps if I could convince these two I wouldn't drown they'd just leave me in the bathroom. Yeah, right. Summers stood up.
"Do I have to have an audience?" I said plaintively. Oh, all right: I whined.
"Come on, it won't be that bad," he said. I muttered something obscene under my breath as he gathered me into his arms. It wasn't quiet enough because he set me into the wheelchair with a frown. "I don't bend that way, thank you very much."
One corner of Logan's mouth was turned up into a sort of smirk. "I'll leave you two girls alone. Enjoy your bath," he grunted in an amused tone before leaving.
I groused the entire length of the hallway. I ranted at Summers. I threatened him. I even tried begging, which probably came out a little stilted considering I didn't do it that often. Nothing fazed the guy, which was a little unnerving. As we went through the stair ritual again, I had a brief fantasy about crawling away from him while he fetched my chair. That was a little premature, apparently, because the first thing I saw when he carried me to the bottom of the steps was a second wheelchair. Someone had the bright idea of putting a second one on the ground floor so that the original wouldn't have to be lugged all over the place.
Summers pretty much confirmed that. "I got tired of dragging that thing up and down the stairs," he said by way of explanation. I just sulked, doing my best to ignore him.
The ground-floor bathroom was the size of one of the bedrooms. I'm not exaggerating, either. It was done in the same marble flooring as the foyer and was split into several separate areas. It actually reminded me of a public bathroom, the way the sinks (there were four) were the first thing we passed as he wheeled me in. Beyond that was a couple toilet stalls and beyond those was the largest bathtub I'd ever laid eyes on.
Hugh Hefner could have held a party in that thing, I kid you not. As my eyes wandered over the wide expanse of bubbles I imagined myself soaking in that thing while surrounded by the X-Girls: Jean, Kitty, Rogue, and Rahne. Yum. Out of curiosity, I tried to imagine Kurt in the same tub. I shook my head. No matter how hard I tried, I pictured him looking like a wet cat. I could imagine him leaning against the side, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at whoever tossed him in there. He didn't seem like a bath kinda guy. Maybe a shower.
Summers misinterpreted my movement. "Can't back out now," he said with the same undertone of amusement Logan had used. The images fell from my mind. Without another word, I peeled off my shirt and dropped it. The ginger ale had dried, for the most part, to a sticky mess. Darn it. I unsnapped my jeans and then stopped.
All right, so I was uncomfortable with Summers hanging around as I stripped down to my birthday suit. To be honest, that wasn't why I'd paused - though it loomed fairly large in my mind. Truth is, I couldn't figure out how to get my pants off.
I felt myself starting to blush again and did my best to will it away.
"Could I get a little help here," I said shortly. "I can't get out of these." Summers moved into view, looking carefully at me and the chair. He wasn't checking me out, just trying to think of a solution. I'm not sure which relieved me more: the fact that he didn't seem to give a hoot that I was half-naked in front of him or the fact that he didn't make any smart remarks about the whole thing.
Maybe - just maybe - I could get to like this guy.
We finally settled on a strange arrangement. He stood behind me and slid his arms under mine. With a grunt he lifted me up out of the chair for a brief moment, allowing me to get my pants down to a point where I wasn't sitting on them. I hadn't realized just how much dead weight I was carrying around up until then. I struggled a bit, trying to get the jeans all the way off.
I almost shrieked like a girl when he moved back in front of me and tugged them all the way off.
"Hey!" I felt like certain parts of me were going to just crawl up into my belly, if you get my drift. This had to rate as the single most uncomfortable thing I'd ever done. My heart sank. And I was going to have to do this every day for how long?
"What are you griping about?" he said with a shrug, carefully folding the jeans and setting them on a low table by the tub. I didn't look at him, nor did I try to cover myself. That would imply I was ashamed, which I certainly wasn't. Embarrassed to the point where I thought my head would explode from the extra blood flow, yes. But not ashamed. "We've both showered after gym class," he went on, ignoring the fact that I resembled nothing more than a large, human-shaped turnip in terms of coloring. He actually had the temerity to laugh slightly. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."
I didn't say anything. I just didn't trust my mouth.
He didn't press the issue. Instead, he pointed at the bandages which were still wound around my midsection. I noticed that they'd been changed at some point, probably last night after somebody had found me out by the cliff. They were clean, no sign of the ugliness underneath.
"Yeah, I guess I'd better get them off." I made no move to unwrap them. I didn't want to see what was under those white linen strips. It was bad enough that the rest of my torso was mottled with all the colors of the rainbow.
"Doctor MacTaggart would have my hide if I let you keep them on in the tub," Summers said. When I still didn't move, he reached out and started unwrapping them himself. My hands moved into my lap of their own volition, covering my nakedness as he did so. He didn't comment on this, which was good.
I stared down my body as he unwound the bandages, carefully winding it around his hand. I hadn't noticed before, but there wasn't much underneath. After a few moments, a gauze pad about the size of a playing card was revealed. There was the tiniest red spot on it, surrounded by a sickly greenish ooze. I was a little surprised that it didn't smell bad at all, which I supposed was a good sign. Infections always reeked, didn't they?
I finally had to move my hands to hold the pad in place as he finished unwrapping the linen. While he set that aside, I carefully peeled the pad away from my belly. It clung slightly, making me wince.
"Holy crap," I whispered. I guess I'd expected something...I don't know...larger. The only evidence of my father's vicious act was a tiny red dot about an inch above my navel in the center of a particularly nasty black bruise. I gingerly touched it and felt a slight twinge. I felt warm air on my lower back as Summers tugged the other pad off my back. Obviously I couldn't see that one, but I suspected it looked the same.
"No kidding," he said quietly. I knew from the look on his face that we both were thinking of Magneto and his seemingly random act of violence. He shook his head, as though to clear it, and rose. I watched mutely as he threw the pads into a garbage can. Why had Dad done this to me? He could have turned the needle aside, I thought. I didn't think I was being delusional, either. After all, the man styled himself the 'Master of Magnetism.' Wouldn't that imply enough control to make a simple object avoid skewering his own son like a lamb on a spit?
I looked back up as Summers pulled his shirt over his head and couldn't help myself. Whenever I feel threatened, I make smart-assed remarks. It's a defense mechanism, all right?
"I hope you're not thinking of joining me," I said in a dry tone. He smiled and raised his eyebrows.
"Not in the slightest," he said as he scooped me out of the chair. The muscles in my back and stomach protested at the movement. The linen must have been supporting them more than I'd thought. This freakin' hurt like hell. "But I don't plan to get soaked on your account, either. Make sure my shades don't slip off, would you?"
I noticed that the steam from the bath had condensed on his nose and, indeed, his glasses were threatening to slide down. Again, my mouth left me in the dust.
"And what if I don't?"
He raised an eyebrow and turned his head, looking into my eyes.
"Because if they slip off, you can kiss your family jewels goodbye." I looked down and realized that his head was indeed over my groin. The man had a point. I pushed his specs up his nose in response.
The water was very hot, just the way I like it. I leaned back against the side of the tub, enjoying the feel of the smooth marble. I watched, drowsing slightly, as Summers toweled off his arms and chest. After he slipped his shirt back on, he turned around and sat down on the edge of the tub.
"You know," he said with a silly grin. "It's a good thing I was the one to help you with this tonight. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. Images of Rahne and Kurt flitted behind my eyelids as I let myself relax. A little Rahne, that is, but mostly Kurt for whatever reason. I smiled to myself. The more I thought about it, the better he looked. If I fell asleep thinking about that fur ball...well, I wouldn't complain.
"Mm. Why do you say that?" I asked with a yawn.
"Well, imagine if Kurt had been the one watching after you tonight."
My eyes shot open and I looked over at him suspiciously. "Tell me you're not a telepath."
"I'm not a telepath," Summers chuckled.
"How could you possibly have known I was thinking about him just now?"
He shook his head. "I didn't know - I just guessed." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at me. "I'm also pretty good at reading body language."
I followed his eyes down. Sure enough, Mr. Happy was staring back at me, ready for action. I wanted to die. Instead I scooped a thick stack of bubbles over me and pointed a dripping hand toward the door.
"Get out of here," I snarled.
He left, that damn smile still playing about his lips.
"I'll be back in an hour to help you dry off," he said on his way out. He waved. I didn't.
Instead, I flipped the bird at his receding back, biting back a curse. Not that I wasn't pissed or anything. It's just that it would echo all over the damn house and the last thing I wanted at the moment was an audience. I slid a little lower into the water, feeling irritation for the turn my life had taken.
------
To Be Continued.
------