------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again.
Cheers.
Jack
------
"Ow! Damn it," I growled. I tossed the wrapping paper on the table and gave up. Rahne was going to have to settle for an unwrapped birthday gift. My mood was degenerating at a rapid pace thanks in no small part to the blisters on both my hands. They itched constantly and twinged every time I flexed my fingers. I glowered down at the mass of band-aids covering each palm. Doctor MacTaggart had used the ones with little cartoon characters on them, which certainly wasn't helping matters any. Yeah, I don't like cartoons. If that makes me evil: get over it.
I'd been fine all day until Hank had the bright idea of having me practice moving my wheelchair around on my own. Obviously it didn't turn out too well. We both learned a valuable lesson earlier in the afternoon. Namely, my upper-body strength is equivalent to that of a ten-year-old. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but it still took everything I had just to get moving.
Where, you might ask, do the blisters come in? Well, getting the chair to roll was hard enough. Stopping, however, was an even bigger problem. I can only imagine how many layers of skin I peeled off trying to stop rolling. I'm pretty sure that at one point smoke actually rose from between the tires and my hands. Neither Hank nor Doctor MacTaggart, not to mention Xavier, mentioned that I needed gloves of some sort. All I needed was something to protect my palms, because despite my best efforts, they wouldn't let me use an electric wheelchair.
So now I was stuck with blisters on both hands and weight-lifting from two to four every afternoon to boot. How fun. I wasn't given a choice, either. Apparently my two quasi-physicians thought I needed to build up a little muscle. The Doc was nice enough about it, calling me 'delicate' or 'lightly-built.' The big blue guy wasn't as kind.
I hate being called scrawny.
Even if it is the truth.
"Need a hand?" Lance asked from the bed. It was his turn to push me around all day and we'd ended up in his room so that I could wrap Rahne's present someplace she couldn't find me. "You're a real funny guy, you know that?" Jerk. I did my best to pretend I was alone, inspecting a particularly large blister instead. It was a strategy that didn't work too well with Lance.
"Huh?" I heard him get up and walk over. "Oh. Sorry," he added as I smoothed the band-aid back into place. "I meant did you want help wrapping?"
I sighed and nodded, pushing the little box toward him.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked. He wrapped like a professional.
He grinned, deftly slitting the paper to the right size. "I had a temp job wrapping Christmas gifts a few years ago at a mall back home. Don't tell anyone though. I've got that bad-boy image to maintain."
"Your secret's safe. I'm officially impressed," I said. He tied off the ribbon and passed it back over to me for inspection. Guess you learn something new every day. He rolled the remaining paper back up, setting it aside, and then hoisted himself up onto the desk.
"I can't believe you paid four hundred dollars for a pen, man," he told me. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"It wasn't my idea and it was the Professor's plastic anyway."
He shrugged. "Still...I guess this means you like her, huh?"
I hadn't told him about Kurt yet. Actually, I hadn't told anybody yet. I wasn't comfortable enough with most of the X-Geeks and Wanda had avoided me like the plague since I woke up. That left Lance as the only person I could talk to about stuff and I honestly didn't know how he'd respond. I didn't think he'd object, but I kept my mouth shut to be safe.
"Sure." Maybe if I kept it short and sweet, he wouldn't pry.
He nodded and glanced at the clock. Apparently my evasion had succeeded.
"Party starts in a few minutes. We should probably get downstairs," he said. I dusted myself off and grabbed the wrapped box, tucking it away out of sight.
"I still can't believe Jean managed to keep this a secret from Rahne all this time," I said as he pushed me into the hall. I thought Xavier had rules against using powers against other students, but maybe he'd made an exception. Jean had clouded Rahne's mind for the past week and it had worked like a charm.
Lance chuckled. "I can. What I can't get over is how every time one of us mentions this party in front of Rahne, her ears hear something else." This was entirely true. Just yesterday I'd listened to Summers and Red discussing party arrangements within earshot of the girl and she'd asked me why they were talking about calculus when school hadn't even begun. Jean had just winked at me. Had to admit, I was quite impressed. Of course it also made me that much more paranoid around her, but that's life.
Lance hefted me out of the chair with a slight grunt. Of the three remaining Brotherhood members, he was the only one who seemed to be adjusting to our change in residence. I certainly wasn't and as I said, Wanda was avoiding me for some reason. Personally I thought he was just happy to be that much closer to Kitty, but it's not like I could throw stones at the guy, not after yesterday. We both had reservations about participating in Xavier's club of do-gooders, though. So far it hadn't been a problem because nothing had happened that required uniforms and a righteous attitude.
He dropped me into the matching chair parked at the bottom of the staircase, settling me in without a word. One thing I'd noticed was that he took my disability at face value, just accepting it as another problem to be worked around. It was refreshing in a way. Everyone else seemed to think I needed help with every little movement or action, but not Lance. He just helped me out when necessary and left me to my own devices the rest of the time. I liked the fact that he made no big deal out of it. It occurred to me that Kurt treated me the same way. No snide remarks, no sympathetic looks; the two acted like the chair was just another part of me. And speaking of the little blue devil...
"Hey," Kurt said, coming out of the kitchen hall. I smiled faintly at him, shaking my head. Where did he get those t-shirts? [1] This one bordered on the sacrilegious, with the phrase 'WWJD (for a Klondike bar?)' stretched over his chest. I couldn't help but snicker as he joined us. Out of curiosity, I glanced up at Lance to see his reaction to Kurt. The two seemed to get along, much to my relief. On the other hand, Lance might react wholly different if he knew we were dating now. Amazing how fragile people's sensibilities can be sometimes.
"I'll take him if you vish," Kurt said to Lance. The pointy-eared guy jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Kitty vants you in the kitchen to help carry food."
Lance looked at me. "That ok with you?"
"Sure," I shrugged. Then I grinned. "Try not to get lost between the kitchen and the pool."
Lance laughed and squeezed my shoulder, heading down the hall toward Kitty and the kitchen. I watched him disappear around a corner.
"If I was the suspicious type," I said without looking at Kurt, "I'd say you did that just to get me alone again." Strong, fuzzy arms wrapped around from behind the chair as he hugged me.
"You'd be wrong, of course. I did that so the two of them could be alone," he breathed into my ear.
I shook my head. His fur, silky as it was, kept tickling me. "What are you, some kind of mutant Yenta?" [2]
"Only for those I care about," he said. He started wheeling me toward the back patio where the party was being set up. After a moment he started whistling softly.
"That sounds familiar," I said as we moved toward the door-wall leading outside.
"Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch..."
"Very funny. I was kidding, you know. Lance has had a thing for Kitty for a long time now." I smirked. "Offering him a chance to be near her is like offering you a free cheeseburger."
Kurt opened the sliding door. "You are implying that he hungers for her, ja?"
"No, I was implying that he's easy to please."
The patio looked as though it had been decorated by the same colorblind gimp that had done up the foyer for the party a few days ago. Streamers of all colors, few of them complimentary, were strung between the balconies and the light posts by the pool. Every piece of furniture was decorated in the same hideous fashion. Glow-sticks had been dropped into the pool, making the water sparkle with a rainbow effect. Glitter confetti was everywhere. It looked like a party-supply truck had overturned in the backyard.
It was overwhelming, to say the least.
One of the picnic tables was laden with snacks and drinks, but from what I understood this was meant to be a barbecue as well. I looked around for the grill and immediately wished I hadn't.
Logan was busy butchering a side of beef like it was Sabretooth, turning it from a solid hunk of meat into steaks in a matter of seconds. With his claws. Ew. God only knew where those things had been. Worse, I caught a glimpse of his barbecue apron when he turned back toward the grill. It was emblazoned with a logo for 'Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies.' [3] I fervently wished that Kitty and Ororo had prepared a salad or something because I was having serious doubts about the steak. Not to mention the cook.
People trickled outside after that. A stereo started playing somewhere in the background. Kitty and Lance stocked the food table while Jean walked around passing out party hats.
I shook my head as she came near. "Oh no," I said with conviction. "No way in hell I'm wearing that silly thing." She looked at me and I suddenly felt a heavy weight in my mind.
"Are we going to argue about this?" she asked. I crossed my arms in response, shooting her my most sullen look. "Cheer up, Pietro," she added, cocking her head to one side. She idly played with hat in her hand. "If you keep sneering at me, I'll make your face freeze like that."
I snatched the silly-looking hat out of her hand and snapped it onto my head.
"There, happy?"
"Of course. Have fun tonight," she told me. "Remember that school starts on Wednesday. This is probably the last party we'll have for a while."
"Gee, you're just full of good news," I muttered darkly. Kurt placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I glared up at him and he shook his head slightly, sending a warning look my way. "Fine, I'll have fun."
"Good," she said, turning away to pass out the remainder of the corny hats.
"...but I won't like it!" I called after her.
The elastic band on my hat snapped in response, making my jaw sting.
"You need to be nicer to Jean," Kurt said from above me.
"If this is a lecture, wake me when it's finished." Don't get me wrong. I liked Kurt. More than a little, it seemed. But sometimes he could be just as wishy-washy as the rest of these people. I didn't need to be nicer to Jean. Quite the reverse in fact. I mean, it was all I could do not to claw my eyes out whenever she came near me.
The rest of the adults arrived and the party started in earnest. Xavier, I noted, was wearing a tiny plastic derby perched jauntily on the top of his head. It made me feel a little better about wearing my own ugly hat. It's true that misery loves company.
I was a little surprised to see Bobby up and about as though nothing had happened to him. Apparently Ororo had found a cure for whatever the White Queen had done to him while her group of students were up in Albany. He looked a little wan, but I wasn't one to talk. I was secretly relieved that he was all right, though. I liked his warped sense of humor.
The guest of honor arrived soon enough. Sam wandered in right behind Rahne, covering her eyes. A deafening roar went up around me as people broke into song, each in their own key. I didn't pretend I had a singing voice. Instead, I made use of the distraction to get a better look at the birthday girl.
Her short reddish-brown hair was pulled back from her face into a pair of pigtails. I hadn't noticed before, but she had freckles. Just enough sprinkled over her nose and cheeks to give her a certain charm. A light green t-shirt over khaki shorts completed the image. She was cute. I certainly can't deny that.
She covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide. Apparently Jean's subterfuge had worked and this really was a surprise. I watched as she hugged Sam, who was nearest her. Looked like she was enjoying herself. She smiled at everyone in the patio and I swear her eyes lingered on me for longer than everyone else. I guess everyone was right; she did seem to like me.
Woohoo!
"Oh, Pietro! I didnae see ye there." I looked up at Rahne, who was peering into the darkness where I sat.
Well, I should hope she hadn't seen me. I had been doing my best to be invisible. I'd spent the last fifteen minutes parked in the shadows at the far end of the pool, near the diving board, watching the festivities. All around us people were dancing and having fun and I resented the fact that I was stuck in a chair the entire time. It was cloying in the extreme and I won't deny that I was getting moody again.
I'd managed to lose Lance and Kurt, who both seemed to think I was their entire mission for the night. Both of them had been under a lot of stress lately and I figured I could get along on my own for an hour or two so they could have fun. Normally I crave attention like a junkie needs his smack, but it was getting ridiculous. For the last several hours I'd been fending off their attempts to assist me in any way. It was simple, really: either they got lost or I went nuts.
I'd finally managed to rope Rogue, of all people, into pushing me somewhere out of the way. She didn't ask questions, thank you very much, which was more than I could say for some people.
"Hi," I said. Once again my vocabulary failed me. Certain people just have this effect on me, I suppose. "Uh, happy birthday too," I added hastily. Good thing we were in the shadows again because I could feel myself start to blush. Darn it.
Rahne sat down on the little ladder on the diving board.
"What're ye doin' all th' way out here?" she asked. I looked past her, toward the raucous party in the background.
I shrugged. "I'm not all the way out anywhere. I got tired of Lance and everybody hanging all over me tonight." She gave me a curious look and I wiggled my fingers in front of her. "See, they don't seem to understand that it's my legs that don't work. I've still got two hands." I sighed. "I just needed some time alone."
"I'm sorry," she said. Oops. She started to get up and I caught her arm, almost toppling the wheelchair in the process.
"Wait, I didn't mean you had to leave!"
She at back down and smiled. It made her whole face light up for a just a moment, but then she frowned slightly. Taking my hand in her own, she turned it over. "What did ye do to yerself?" she asked curiously, fingering the band-aids that covered my palms.
"It's nothing," I said, wincing slightly as she poked at one. "Hank tried to teach me how to get around on my own today and it was a bit of a fiasco."
"Oh," she said with a puzzled look. Time to salvage this conversation.
"Hey, I got something for you," I said, fumbling around my lap. In retrospect what I was doing probably looked vaguely obscene, especially to a fifteen-year-old girl. Of course that didn't occur to me at the time. I managed to come up with the little box after a moment. It had wedged between my thigh and the side of the chair, which is why it eluded me for so long. I couldn't feel it, you see. "Here."
Her eyes widened and her mouth made a cute little 'o' of surprise. I felt a grin spread across my own face.
"Can I open it?" she asked.
I couldn't resist. "Nope. It's actually for Jean." The look on her face was priceless, but she saw that I was kidding almost immediately and punched me in the shoulder. She hit, if you'll excuse the expression, like a girl. I snickered. "Yeah, go ahead."
She squealed in delight and went after the ribbon with gusto. Within moments there was shredding wrapping paper and ribbon all around us. She gasped when she saw the Mont Blanc logo on the box.
"Ooooh," she breathed. "Ye didnae have t' do this."
"Ah, it was nothing," I lied.
She flipped open the lid and gasped aloud this time. I'd have to remember to thank Kurt for this particular gift idea. The moment I thought that, I felt slightly guilty. Oh what the hell, I thought, it's only a birthday present.
And besides, he's still dating that Amanda chick. Fair is fair after all.
I watched as, with an almost reverent expression, she plucked the pen out of the box. She turned it over in her hands, as though committing it to memory. Then she grasped it in both hands and twisted sharply.
"Good God! What are you doing?!" Had I been thinking, I'd have taken a closer look at the silly little thing when I'd bought it. She deftly popped an ink cartridge into the chamber and closed it again. Picking up a scrap of wrapping paper, she scribbled something.
"Relax," she said to me. "It's a fountain pen; it needed filled."
"Oh, gotcha."
"It's wonderful, Pietro!" she squealed again. Slipping the cap on the most expensive thing I'd ever purchased, she clipped it to her shirt. Then she leaned over and hugged me. And then she kissed me on the cheek. I only dimly heard her say, "Thank you very, very much!" because the blood was pounding in my ears.
Perhaps I could turn this to my advantage, eh?
"Is this a good time to ask you out?" I said in the most urbane voice I could muster.
She hugged me again. "Yes! When?"
"Uh, Friday?" I ignored the alarm bells going off in my head.
"Works fer me. Where?" She had me there. I looked pointedly at my legs.
"That's a good question." I trailed off. "Whatever we do, someone's going to have to drive us there. Tell you what," I said, brightening. "I'll figure something out and let you know."
"Sounds great," she said with a smile.
"Oh, uh. One thing, though," I added as an afterthought.
"Wha'?"
I took a deep breath. "Don't tell anyone yet, ok?"
She cocked her head, but didn't argue. Thank heavens. Fact is she probably thought my request was a little odd. Lucky for me, I was saved by the Doc calling her from across the patio. Her perky little smile returned instantaneously and with a final kiss on the cheek, she bounded over to Doctor MacTaggart. I breathed a sigh of relief. It didn't last long.
"Isn't that just a little contemptible?" I heard Jean say from behind me.
"About as much as eavesdropping," I growled. "Just how long have you been back there?"
Red walked into the light, sitting down where Rahne had been sitting a moment before. Her expression clearly said she wasn't terribly pleased with me for some reason. I wasn't too worried. The day I finally managed not to irritate Jean in some way was the day my father gave up his dreams of world conquest and became a rabbi.
"So I made a date," I told her after making sure there was no one around to hear. "Sue me, but don't lecture me. If you do I swear I'll scream."
She frowned. "Do you actually intend to go out with both Kurt and Rahne on Friday?"
What was she talking about?
"Kurt and I don't have any plans for Friday." The look on her face said it all. "I take it you're about to tell me that he does, indeed, have a date planned."
Jean sighed and for the first time since I'd known her she looked unsure of herself.
"I don't know that I should say anything..." she started.
"...but I'm a tenacious bastard," I interrupted. "You've got my interest piqued and I'll bug you from now until Friday if that's what it takes. What's going on?"
She told me.
"Aw, man. Carnegie Hall, huh?"
Jean nodded. "And it took him all summer to convince the professor to let him go to this concert to begin with. He's had tickets since June."
I sighed. This complicated things.
"He might have mentioned this," I grumbled. "Damn. And I like Savage Garden, too."
Her eyes glazed over for a moment. "He's going to tonight, after the party," she said. I had the uneasy feeling she was picking that information right out of his brain. How creepy can you get?
"I don't suppose you'd help me figure out what to do, would you?" I just about choked on my pride with that question. Asking for help from people came with difficulty, but asking Red for help was a real ego-killer.
"Don't suppose I would, no." I stared at her in disbelief. Since when did Jean not help someone with a problem? She'd been known to go out of her way to help people. What makes this any different? "You got yourself into this mess, Pietro. You can get yourself out of it." She patted my knee and stood.
I watched her walk away, mentally kicking myself. What was I thinking when I asked Rahne for a date? This was going to be an extraordinarily long week, whatever happened.
I was still pondering my dilemma well into the night. Three o'clock found me lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what I was going to do. So far I hadn't come up with anything more workable than crawling under a rock and hiding for the duration. Whatever I did, someone would get hurt. Crud.
The door creaked open slowly and I just about jumped out of my skin. I squinted in the sudden light. Xavier's electric bill had to be through the roof if he left the hall lights on all night.
Logan stood framed in the doorway. Great. Things were just getting better and better.
"Ya havin' trouble sleepin'?" he asked quietly, reaching for the light switch.
"Yes, and don't turn on the lights." Wait a minute. "What are you doing up anyway?"
Logan walked in, shutting the door behind himself. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust back to the darkness. This didn't seem to be a problem for him, because he threaded his way through my room to the overstuffed chair next to the bed without tripping on anything.
"I check on you kids every coupla hours during the night," he told me. I blinked.
"I won't ask," I replied. The room was very quiet for a minute or two. Logan sat down without a word. I could feel his eyes on me in the dark and for a fleeting moment I felt like a mouse under the gaze of an owl.
"Ya wanna talk about it?" he said finally. I twitched again. The man made me nervous for some reason. The fact that he was a walking armory probably had something to do with it. I find it hard to relax around someone who carries bladed weaponry around in his forearms. Wouldn't you?
"If I said no, would you leave me alone?"
"Nope." He sounded awfully smug about it, too.
I sighed; the sound was quite loud in the dark room. "I've got a dating problem that's keeping me awake." I could see him nod and then grin. Moonlight reflected off his teeth, making him spookier than usual.
"Gotta decide between Rahne and Kurt, huh?" he said with a trace of amusement.
How...? Oh, I was going to kill her. "I hate Jean," I muttered.
A low chuckle floated across the room from the chair. "Jean didn't tell me nothin'."
"How'd you find out, then?"
"Keep yer shirt on, kiddo. No one told me about you and Kurt," he said in that same amused tone. "I can smell him on your sheets." What? Oh yeah. It had been two days since I'd woken up to him curled up beside me and I was still finding blue hairs all over the bed. Logan had a hell of a sense of smell. "I overheard Sam telling Amara that Rahne had a crush on you the other night."
"I see."
"Yep. So what's the problem?" He sounded sincere enough, so I decided to trust him. Just this once, you understand. At least he wasn't freaking out about the possibility of two guys getting it on. Uh, not that we'd fooled around yet. Oh jeez. If he could pick up the scent of Kurt when the guy had done nothing more than sleep - literally sleep - in my bed, he'd be able to smell...
I groaned.
"Ya gonna tell me or just moan about it?"
"Anyone ever tell you that your people skills need polishing?" I snapped.
"Once." The sound of his claws popping out of his hand punctuated his next words: "He didn't say it twice, though."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said. Logan resheathed his cutlery. "It's kind of a long story."
"I've got all night," he said. Darn it.
"I really don't want to talk about it." Not to you anyway, I thought.
"All right," he said. Shadows shifted as he stood. At least he didn't seem to want to argue with me. "Good luck," he said on his way out the door.
------
To Be Continued.
------
[1]: This particular shirt comes from tshirthell.com, a web site I highly recommend to anyone as decadent as myself.
[2]: The matchmaker from 'Fiddler on the Roof.'
[3]: A reference to Sweeney Todd. It's a Sondheim musical about cannibalism. Let's just leave it at that, shall we? Also a slight homage to Laurell Hamilton, who had a character in one of her books wear the same inappropriate apron at a barbecue.
------
To My Reviewers:
furygrrl: I hadn't planned on making them naked, but I do have some leftover batter so I can probably work something out. Your praise continues to blow me away. Thanks much. Thanks especially for the bit about actually being able to write well. I can't wait to show my agent this particular review. Perhaps he'll try a little harder to get me published. By the way, do you no longer use AIM or are you just never online? I've added you to my buddy list but so far you've been a ghost.
Sailor X1: Got you to read slash, eh? --fluffs ego-- Damn, I'm good. Don't worry about the Amanda situation. She may say she's fine with it (after all, she really likes Kurt and wants him to be happy) but reality will set in soon enough. I'm looking forward to writing the drag-down, screaming catfight between Amanda and Pietro.
Storm-Pietro: Glad you're enjoying the whole fic, not just the last sentence of each one. ;) There will be plenty of Kurt/Pietro in this fic. Probably slightly less Rahne/Pietro, but that's only because my experience in straight relationships is somewhat limited to spectator status. I just don't know how well I can write guy/girl fics. :\
Ultramatt17: Edge of your seat? How odd. That's not a reaction I expected. For an adventure story, sure, but for an introspective fic like this...hmm. At least you seem to be enjoying it. As for Xavier's mean streak, I wasn't aware I'd written one into him. Could you be more specific? The 'Star Wars' bit is easier explained: he probably picked it out of someone's mind.
DemonRogue13: I've no idea how Kurt/Pietro fans will take it. None of them seem to be commenting. Perhaps they're still in a state of shock, eh? If you liked the spat between Kurt/Pietro/Amanda, keep an eye out for chapter thirteen. Expect more of the same, only with more violent tempers and more caustic comments.
Keep 'em coming, folks! Reviews are the bread and water for we poor fanfic writers. :)
Cheers.
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again.
Cheers.
Jack
------
"Ow! Damn it," I growled. I tossed the wrapping paper on the table and gave up. Rahne was going to have to settle for an unwrapped birthday gift. My mood was degenerating at a rapid pace thanks in no small part to the blisters on both my hands. They itched constantly and twinged every time I flexed my fingers. I glowered down at the mass of band-aids covering each palm. Doctor MacTaggart had used the ones with little cartoon characters on them, which certainly wasn't helping matters any. Yeah, I don't like cartoons. If that makes me evil: get over it.
I'd been fine all day until Hank had the bright idea of having me practice moving my wheelchair around on my own. Obviously it didn't turn out too well. We both learned a valuable lesson earlier in the afternoon. Namely, my upper-body strength is equivalent to that of a ten-year-old. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but it still took everything I had just to get moving.
Where, you might ask, do the blisters come in? Well, getting the chair to roll was hard enough. Stopping, however, was an even bigger problem. I can only imagine how many layers of skin I peeled off trying to stop rolling. I'm pretty sure that at one point smoke actually rose from between the tires and my hands. Neither Hank nor Doctor MacTaggart, not to mention Xavier, mentioned that I needed gloves of some sort. All I needed was something to protect my palms, because despite my best efforts, they wouldn't let me use an electric wheelchair.
So now I was stuck with blisters on both hands and weight-lifting from two to four every afternoon to boot. How fun. I wasn't given a choice, either. Apparently my two quasi-physicians thought I needed to build up a little muscle. The Doc was nice enough about it, calling me 'delicate' or 'lightly-built.' The big blue guy wasn't as kind.
I hate being called scrawny.
Even if it is the truth.
"Need a hand?" Lance asked from the bed. It was his turn to push me around all day and we'd ended up in his room so that I could wrap Rahne's present someplace she couldn't find me. "You're a real funny guy, you know that?" Jerk. I did my best to pretend I was alone, inspecting a particularly large blister instead. It was a strategy that didn't work too well with Lance.
"Huh?" I heard him get up and walk over. "Oh. Sorry," he added as I smoothed the band-aid back into place. "I meant did you want help wrapping?"
I sighed and nodded, pushing the little box toward him.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked. He wrapped like a professional.
He grinned, deftly slitting the paper to the right size. "I had a temp job wrapping Christmas gifts a few years ago at a mall back home. Don't tell anyone though. I've got that bad-boy image to maintain."
"Your secret's safe. I'm officially impressed," I said. He tied off the ribbon and passed it back over to me for inspection. Guess you learn something new every day. He rolled the remaining paper back up, setting it aside, and then hoisted himself up onto the desk.
"I can't believe you paid four hundred dollars for a pen, man," he told me. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"It wasn't my idea and it was the Professor's plastic anyway."
He shrugged. "Still...I guess this means you like her, huh?"
I hadn't told him about Kurt yet. Actually, I hadn't told anybody yet. I wasn't comfortable enough with most of the X-Geeks and Wanda had avoided me like the plague since I woke up. That left Lance as the only person I could talk to about stuff and I honestly didn't know how he'd respond. I didn't think he'd object, but I kept my mouth shut to be safe.
"Sure." Maybe if I kept it short and sweet, he wouldn't pry.
He nodded and glanced at the clock. Apparently my evasion had succeeded.
"Party starts in a few minutes. We should probably get downstairs," he said. I dusted myself off and grabbed the wrapped box, tucking it away out of sight.
"I still can't believe Jean managed to keep this a secret from Rahne all this time," I said as he pushed me into the hall. I thought Xavier had rules against using powers against other students, but maybe he'd made an exception. Jean had clouded Rahne's mind for the past week and it had worked like a charm.
Lance chuckled. "I can. What I can't get over is how every time one of us mentions this party in front of Rahne, her ears hear something else." This was entirely true. Just yesterday I'd listened to Summers and Red discussing party arrangements within earshot of the girl and she'd asked me why they were talking about calculus when school hadn't even begun. Jean had just winked at me. Had to admit, I was quite impressed. Of course it also made me that much more paranoid around her, but that's life.
Lance hefted me out of the chair with a slight grunt. Of the three remaining Brotherhood members, he was the only one who seemed to be adjusting to our change in residence. I certainly wasn't and as I said, Wanda was avoiding me for some reason. Personally I thought he was just happy to be that much closer to Kitty, but it's not like I could throw stones at the guy, not after yesterday. We both had reservations about participating in Xavier's club of do-gooders, though. So far it hadn't been a problem because nothing had happened that required uniforms and a righteous attitude.
He dropped me into the matching chair parked at the bottom of the staircase, settling me in without a word. One thing I'd noticed was that he took my disability at face value, just accepting it as another problem to be worked around. It was refreshing in a way. Everyone else seemed to think I needed help with every little movement or action, but not Lance. He just helped me out when necessary and left me to my own devices the rest of the time. I liked the fact that he made no big deal out of it. It occurred to me that Kurt treated me the same way. No snide remarks, no sympathetic looks; the two acted like the chair was just another part of me. And speaking of the little blue devil...
"Hey," Kurt said, coming out of the kitchen hall. I smiled faintly at him, shaking my head. Where did he get those t-shirts? [1] This one bordered on the sacrilegious, with the phrase 'WWJD (for a Klondike bar?)' stretched over his chest. I couldn't help but snicker as he joined us. Out of curiosity, I glanced up at Lance to see his reaction to Kurt. The two seemed to get along, much to my relief. On the other hand, Lance might react wholly different if he knew we were dating now. Amazing how fragile people's sensibilities can be sometimes.
"I'll take him if you vish," Kurt said to Lance. The pointy-eared guy jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Kitty vants you in the kitchen to help carry food."
Lance looked at me. "That ok with you?"
"Sure," I shrugged. Then I grinned. "Try not to get lost between the kitchen and the pool."
Lance laughed and squeezed my shoulder, heading down the hall toward Kitty and the kitchen. I watched him disappear around a corner.
"If I was the suspicious type," I said without looking at Kurt, "I'd say you did that just to get me alone again." Strong, fuzzy arms wrapped around from behind the chair as he hugged me.
"You'd be wrong, of course. I did that so the two of them could be alone," he breathed into my ear.
I shook my head. His fur, silky as it was, kept tickling me. "What are you, some kind of mutant Yenta?" [2]
"Only for those I care about," he said. He started wheeling me toward the back patio where the party was being set up. After a moment he started whistling softly.
"That sounds familiar," I said as we moved toward the door-wall leading outside.
"Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch..."
"Very funny. I was kidding, you know. Lance has had a thing for Kitty for a long time now." I smirked. "Offering him a chance to be near her is like offering you a free cheeseburger."
Kurt opened the sliding door. "You are implying that he hungers for her, ja?"
"No, I was implying that he's easy to please."
The patio looked as though it had been decorated by the same colorblind gimp that had done up the foyer for the party a few days ago. Streamers of all colors, few of them complimentary, were strung between the balconies and the light posts by the pool. Every piece of furniture was decorated in the same hideous fashion. Glow-sticks had been dropped into the pool, making the water sparkle with a rainbow effect. Glitter confetti was everywhere. It looked like a party-supply truck had overturned in the backyard.
It was overwhelming, to say the least.
One of the picnic tables was laden with snacks and drinks, but from what I understood this was meant to be a barbecue as well. I looked around for the grill and immediately wished I hadn't.
Logan was busy butchering a side of beef like it was Sabretooth, turning it from a solid hunk of meat into steaks in a matter of seconds. With his claws. Ew. God only knew where those things had been. Worse, I caught a glimpse of his barbecue apron when he turned back toward the grill. It was emblazoned with a logo for 'Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies.' [3] I fervently wished that Kitty and Ororo had prepared a salad or something because I was having serious doubts about the steak. Not to mention the cook.
People trickled outside after that. A stereo started playing somewhere in the background. Kitty and Lance stocked the food table while Jean walked around passing out party hats.
I shook my head as she came near. "Oh no," I said with conviction. "No way in hell I'm wearing that silly thing." She looked at me and I suddenly felt a heavy weight in my mind.
"Are we going to argue about this?" she asked. I crossed my arms in response, shooting her my most sullen look. "Cheer up, Pietro," she added, cocking her head to one side. She idly played with hat in her hand. "If you keep sneering at me, I'll make your face freeze like that."
I snatched the silly-looking hat out of her hand and snapped it onto my head.
"There, happy?"
"Of course. Have fun tonight," she told me. "Remember that school starts on Wednesday. This is probably the last party we'll have for a while."
"Gee, you're just full of good news," I muttered darkly. Kurt placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I glared up at him and he shook his head slightly, sending a warning look my way. "Fine, I'll have fun."
"Good," she said, turning away to pass out the remainder of the corny hats.
"...but I won't like it!" I called after her.
The elastic band on my hat snapped in response, making my jaw sting.
"You need to be nicer to Jean," Kurt said from above me.
"If this is a lecture, wake me when it's finished." Don't get me wrong. I liked Kurt. More than a little, it seemed. But sometimes he could be just as wishy-washy as the rest of these people. I didn't need to be nicer to Jean. Quite the reverse in fact. I mean, it was all I could do not to claw my eyes out whenever she came near me.
The rest of the adults arrived and the party started in earnest. Xavier, I noted, was wearing a tiny plastic derby perched jauntily on the top of his head. It made me feel a little better about wearing my own ugly hat. It's true that misery loves company.
I was a little surprised to see Bobby up and about as though nothing had happened to him. Apparently Ororo had found a cure for whatever the White Queen had done to him while her group of students were up in Albany. He looked a little wan, but I wasn't one to talk. I was secretly relieved that he was all right, though. I liked his warped sense of humor.
The guest of honor arrived soon enough. Sam wandered in right behind Rahne, covering her eyes. A deafening roar went up around me as people broke into song, each in their own key. I didn't pretend I had a singing voice. Instead, I made use of the distraction to get a better look at the birthday girl.
Her short reddish-brown hair was pulled back from her face into a pair of pigtails. I hadn't noticed before, but she had freckles. Just enough sprinkled over her nose and cheeks to give her a certain charm. A light green t-shirt over khaki shorts completed the image. She was cute. I certainly can't deny that.
She covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide. Apparently Jean's subterfuge had worked and this really was a surprise. I watched as she hugged Sam, who was nearest her. Looked like she was enjoying herself. She smiled at everyone in the patio and I swear her eyes lingered on me for longer than everyone else. I guess everyone was right; she did seem to like me.
Woohoo!
"Oh, Pietro! I didnae see ye there." I looked up at Rahne, who was peering into the darkness where I sat.
Well, I should hope she hadn't seen me. I had been doing my best to be invisible. I'd spent the last fifteen minutes parked in the shadows at the far end of the pool, near the diving board, watching the festivities. All around us people were dancing and having fun and I resented the fact that I was stuck in a chair the entire time. It was cloying in the extreme and I won't deny that I was getting moody again.
I'd managed to lose Lance and Kurt, who both seemed to think I was their entire mission for the night. Both of them had been under a lot of stress lately and I figured I could get along on my own for an hour or two so they could have fun. Normally I crave attention like a junkie needs his smack, but it was getting ridiculous. For the last several hours I'd been fending off their attempts to assist me in any way. It was simple, really: either they got lost or I went nuts.
I'd finally managed to rope Rogue, of all people, into pushing me somewhere out of the way. She didn't ask questions, thank you very much, which was more than I could say for some people.
"Hi," I said. Once again my vocabulary failed me. Certain people just have this effect on me, I suppose. "Uh, happy birthday too," I added hastily. Good thing we were in the shadows again because I could feel myself start to blush. Darn it.
Rahne sat down on the little ladder on the diving board.
"What're ye doin' all th' way out here?" she asked. I looked past her, toward the raucous party in the background.
I shrugged. "I'm not all the way out anywhere. I got tired of Lance and everybody hanging all over me tonight." She gave me a curious look and I wiggled my fingers in front of her. "See, they don't seem to understand that it's my legs that don't work. I've still got two hands." I sighed. "I just needed some time alone."
"I'm sorry," she said. Oops. She started to get up and I caught her arm, almost toppling the wheelchair in the process.
"Wait, I didn't mean you had to leave!"
She at back down and smiled. It made her whole face light up for a just a moment, but then she frowned slightly. Taking my hand in her own, she turned it over. "What did ye do to yerself?" she asked curiously, fingering the band-aids that covered my palms.
"It's nothing," I said, wincing slightly as she poked at one. "Hank tried to teach me how to get around on my own today and it was a bit of a fiasco."
"Oh," she said with a puzzled look. Time to salvage this conversation.
"Hey, I got something for you," I said, fumbling around my lap. In retrospect what I was doing probably looked vaguely obscene, especially to a fifteen-year-old girl. Of course that didn't occur to me at the time. I managed to come up with the little box after a moment. It had wedged between my thigh and the side of the chair, which is why it eluded me for so long. I couldn't feel it, you see. "Here."
Her eyes widened and her mouth made a cute little 'o' of surprise. I felt a grin spread across my own face.
"Can I open it?" she asked.
I couldn't resist. "Nope. It's actually for Jean." The look on her face was priceless, but she saw that I was kidding almost immediately and punched me in the shoulder. She hit, if you'll excuse the expression, like a girl. I snickered. "Yeah, go ahead."
She squealed in delight and went after the ribbon with gusto. Within moments there was shredding wrapping paper and ribbon all around us. She gasped when she saw the Mont Blanc logo on the box.
"Ooooh," she breathed. "Ye didnae have t' do this."
"Ah, it was nothing," I lied.
She flipped open the lid and gasped aloud this time. I'd have to remember to thank Kurt for this particular gift idea. The moment I thought that, I felt slightly guilty. Oh what the hell, I thought, it's only a birthday present.
And besides, he's still dating that Amanda chick. Fair is fair after all.
I watched as, with an almost reverent expression, she plucked the pen out of the box. She turned it over in her hands, as though committing it to memory. Then she grasped it in both hands and twisted sharply.
"Good God! What are you doing?!" Had I been thinking, I'd have taken a closer look at the silly little thing when I'd bought it. She deftly popped an ink cartridge into the chamber and closed it again. Picking up a scrap of wrapping paper, she scribbled something.
"Relax," she said to me. "It's a fountain pen; it needed filled."
"Oh, gotcha."
"It's wonderful, Pietro!" she squealed again. Slipping the cap on the most expensive thing I'd ever purchased, she clipped it to her shirt. Then she leaned over and hugged me. And then she kissed me on the cheek. I only dimly heard her say, "Thank you very, very much!" because the blood was pounding in my ears.
Perhaps I could turn this to my advantage, eh?
"Is this a good time to ask you out?" I said in the most urbane voice I could muster.
She hugged me again. "Yes! When?"
"Uh, Friday?" I ignored the alarm bells going off in my head.
"Works fer me. Where?" She had me there. I looked pointedly at my legs.
"That's a good question." I trailed off. "Whatever we do, someone's going to have to drive us there. Tell you what," I said, brightening. "I'll figure something out and let you know."
"Sounds great," she said with a smile.
"Oh, uh. One thing, though," I added as an afterthought.
"Wha'?"
I took a deep breath. "Don't tell anyone yet, ok?"
She cocked her head, but didn't argue. Thank heavens. Fact is she probably thought my request was a little odd. Lucky for me, I was saved by the Doc calling her from across the patio. Her perky little smile returned instantaneously and with a final kiss on the cheek, she bounded over to Doctor MacTaggart. I breathed a sigh of relief. It didn't last long.
"Isn't that just a little contemptible?" I heard Jean say from behind me.
"About as much as eavesdropping," I growled. "Just how long have you been back there?"
Red walked into the light, sitting down where Rahne had been sitting a moment before. Her expression clearly said she wasn't terribly pleased with me for some reason. I wasn't too worried. The day I finally managed not to irritate Jean in some way was the day my father gave up his dreams of world conquest and became a rabbi.
"So I made a date," I told her after making sure there was no one around to hear. "Sue me, but don't lecture me. If you do I swear I'll scream."
She frowned. "Do you actually intend to go out with both Kurt and Rahne on Friday?"
What was she talking about?
"Kurt and I don't have any plans for Friday." The look on her face said it all. "I take it you're about to tell me that he does, indeed, have a date planned."
Jean sighed and for the first time since I'd known her she looked unsure of herself.
"I don't know that I should say anything..." she started.
"...but I'm a tenacious bastard," I interrupted. "You've got my interest piqued and I'll bug you from now until Friday if that's what it takes. What's going on?"
She told me.
"Aw, man. Carnegie Hall, huh?"
Jean nodded. "And it took him all summer to convince the professor to let him go to this concert to begin with. He's had tickets since June."
I sighed. This complicated things.
"He might have mentioned this," I grumbled. "Damn. And I like Savage Garden, too."
Her eyes glazed over for a moment. "He's going to tonight, after the party," she said. I had the uneasy feeling she was picking that information right out of his brain. How creepy can you get?
"I don't suppose you'd help me figure out what to do, would you?" I just about choked on my pride with that question. Asking for help from people came with difficulty, but asking Red for help was a real ego-killer.
"Don't suppose I would, no." I stared at her in disbelief. Since when did Jean not help someone with a problem? She'd been known to go out of her way to help people. What makes this any different? "You got yourself into this mess, Pietro. You can get yourself out of it." She patted my knee and stood.
I watched her walk away, mentally kicking myself. What was I thinking when I asked Rahne for a date? This was going to be an extraordinarily long week, whatever happened.
I was still pondering my dilemma well into the night. Three o'clock found me lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what I was going to do. So far I hadn't come up with anything more workable than crawling under a rock and hiding for the duration. Whatever I did, someone would get hurt. Crud.
The door creaked open slowly and I just about jumped out of my skin. I squinted in the sudden light. Xavier's electric bill had to be through the roof if he left the hall lights on all night.
Logan stood framed in the doorway. Great. Things were just getting better and better.
"Ya havin' trouble sleepin'?" he asked quietly, reaching for the light switch.
"Yes, and don't turn on the lights." Wait a minute. "What are you doing up anyway?"
Logan walked in, shutting the door behind himself. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust back to the darkness. This didn't seem to be a problem for him, because he threaded his way through my room to the overstuffed chair next to the bed without tripping on anything.
"I check on you kids every coupla hours during the night," he told me. I blinked.
"I won't ask," I replied. The room was very quiet for a minute or two. Logan sat down without a word. I could feel his eyes on me in the dark and for a fleeting moment I felt like a mouse under the gaze of an owl.
"Ya wanna talk about it?" he said finally. I twitched again. The man made me nervous for some reason. The fact that he was a walking armory probably had something to do with it. I find it hard to relax around someone who carries bladed weaponry around in his forearms. Wouldn't you?
"If I said no, would you leave me alone?"
"Nope." He sounded awfully smug about it, too.
I sighed; the sound was quite loud in the dark room. "I've got a dating problem that's keeping me awake." I could see him nod and then grin. Moonlight reflected off his teeth, making him spookier than usual.
"Gotta decide between Rahne and Kurt, huh?" he said with a trace of amusement.
How...? Oh, I was going to kill her. "I hate Jean," I muttered.
A low chuckle floated across the room from the chair. "Jean didn't tell me nothin'."
"How'd you find out, then?"
"Keep yer shirt on, kiddo. No one told me about you and Kurt," he said in that same amused tone. "I can smell him on your sheets." What? Oh yeah. It had been two days since I'd woken up to him curled up beside me and I was still finding blue hairs all over the bed. Logan had a hell of a sense of smell. "I overheard Sam telling Amara that Rahne had a crush on you the other night."
"I see."
"Yep. So what's the problem?" He sounded sincere enough, so I decided to trust him. Just this once, you understand. At least he wasn't freaking out about the possibility of two guys getting it on. Uh, not that we'd fooled around yet. Oh jeez. If he could pick up the scent of Kurt when the guy had done nothing more than sleep - literally sleep - in my bed, he'd be able to smell...
I groaned.
"Ya gonna tell me or just moan about it?"
"Anyone ever tell you that your people skills need polishing?" I snapped.
"Once." The sound of his claws popping out of his hand punctuated his next words: "He didn't say it twice, though."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said. Logan resheathed his cutlery. "It's kind of a long story."
"I've got all night," he said. Darn it.
"I really don't want to talk about it." Not to you anyway, I thought.
"All right," he said. Shadows shifted as he stood. At least he didn't seem to want to argue with me. "Good luck," he said on his way out the door.
------
To Be Continued.
------
[1]: This particular shirt comes from tshirthell.com, a web site I highly recommend to anyone as decadent as myself.
[2]: The matchmaker from 'Fiddler on the Roof.'
[3]: A reference to Sweeney Todd. It's a Sondheim musical about cannibalism. Let's just leave it at that, shall we? Also a slight homage to Laurell Hamilton, who had a character in one of her books wear the same inappropriate apron at a barbecue.
------
To My Reviewers:
furygrrl: I hadn't planned on making them naked, but I do have some leftover batter so I can probably work something out. Your praise continues to blow me away. Thanks much. Thanks especially for the bit about actually being able to write well. I can't wait to show my agent this particular review. Perhaps he'll try a little harder to get me published. By the way, do you no longer use AIM or are you just never online? I've added you to my buddy list but so far you've been a ghost.
Sailor X1: Got you to read slash, eh? --fluffs ego-- Damn, I'm good. Don't worry about the Amanda situation. She may say she's fine with it (after all, she really likes Kurt and wants him to be happy) but reality will set in soon enough. I'm looking forward to writing the drag-down, screaming catfight between Amanda and Pietro.
Storm-Pietro: Glad you're enjoying the whole fic, not just the last sentence of each one. ;) There will be plenty of Kurt/Pietro in this fic. Probably slightly less Rahne/Pietro, but that's only because my experience in straight relationships is somewhat limited to spectator status. I just don't know how well I can write guy/girl fics. :\
Ultramatt17: Edge of your seat? How odd. That's not a reaction I expected. For an adventure story, sure, but for an introspective fic like this...hmm. At least you seem to be enjoying it. As for Xavier's mean streak, I wasn't aware I'd written one into him. Could you be more specific? The 'Star Wars' bit is easier explained: he probably picked it out of someone's mind.
DemonRogue13: I've no idea how Kurt/Pietro fans will take it. None of them seem to be commenting. Perhaps they're still in a state of shock, eh? If you liked the spat between Kurt/Pietro/Amanda, keep an eye out for chapter thirteen. Expect more of the same, only with more violent tempers and more caustic comments.
Keep 'em coming, folks! Reviews are the bread and water for we poor fanfic writers. :)
Cheers.