Sweet Cake (Don't ask about the title... I'm on crack)
****
"Hey, Kitty" do you have any conditioner?" Kurt walked in through the door, a towel slung lazily over his shoulder.
Kitty raised an eyebrow from where she was sitting on her bed. "Why?" Skepticism laced her voice.
"I ran out. I have to keep my fur nice and soft." He stroked his arm. Sighing exasperatingly, she pointed over to her top dresser drawer. "Danke." he bowed mockingly after retrieving the blue bottle from its resting place.
"Shut the door." she shouted after him, returning to her homework only after she heard it click reassuringly into place. However, after several math problems and three chapters of "The Great Gatsby" her stomach rumbled menacingly. Patting it softly, she phased through her door, picturing the last piece of chocolate cake in her mind. She would have gotten it to, if she hadn't bumped into a certain Russian.
"I am, like, so sorry!" She gasped earnestly, getting off the floor and helping to pick up the papers that had scattered from the collision.
"It is fine, Katya." Came the deep, accented voice of Piotr Rasputin. "You merely startled me." He started his own stack of the papers.
"I should have watched where I'm going." Kitty chided herself for her lapse in attention.
"It is fine. I, also, wasn't concentrating. I have to admit that my mind has been elsewhere as of late."
Nodding, she handed her papers to Piotr, smiling in response to his thanks. She glanced briefly at the top of the stack. But when something caught her interest, she pulled the top leaf off. "Is this what you were scribbling furiously over at breakfast this morning?"
He moved over behind her shoulder so as to understand what she was talking about. "A letter to my family in Russia." He explained.
Not having knowledge of the Russian alphabet, Kitty asked him what it said.
"Oh, just telling them how I am, what America is like. It is explaining what it is like around here, and describing the people I have met. Things such as that.
"Anything about me?" She asked playfully, but straining her eyes to read the words, as if they would suddenly transform into English. Piotr, silently taken aback, pulled out another piece of paper and put it in her hands. "Here," he pointed to a word on the page. "It tells about the day that I cam here and met you and you are very friendly."
"Is that all?" Kitty's eyes met his. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
He hesitated. "Da." and then turned away, avoiding her gaze.
She moved her eyes back towards the letter, noting that the word he had pointed to was scattered about the page several other times. Her stomach became a roller coaster. Long silences never came naturally to Kitty Pryde. "Well I have a piece of cake I have to rescue." She stammered uncomfortably. But before she was completely immersed in the floor boards, she was stopped.
"Wait." It came from his lips, uttered deeply, quickly, and forcefully.
"Yes?"
He was looking at his thumbs, eyes narrowed. "I have been meaning to talk to you about something." He ran his hand through his black hair nervously. There was something about that hair that always made Kitty swoon. She wanted to run her own hands through it.
Her heart fluttered. She had daydreamed about moments like this. "What is it?" She inquired, trying to keep her voice calm and even.
Sighing, he let his shoulders drop, as if he had suddenly changed his mind and was ashamed for doing so. "Never mind. It is nothing." The large man turned around to go.
"May I guess?" Kitty touched Piotr's arms to make him stay. "You've been experiencing something these past few weeks. Its hard to breathe whenever we are together. Feelings have started to emerge." She bit her lip, hoping that she wasn't wrong in her supposal
He stared at her, a dumbfounded expression plastered about his face. "How did you know?"
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Because that's exactly how I feel." Instead of facing him with her challenging gaze, she met him softly.
He smiled. "I'm glad to have gotten that off my chest." He leaned down, kissed her cheek, and walked away, a spring in his step.
She walked back towards her room, her hunger, and the cake, completely forgotten.
****
(A/N: There... short, sweet. One-shot.
And I've gotten all the mush out of my system. I'll go back to being angry and hating love. I've missed my bitchy side. Being angsty and depressed and such has been no picnic.
I do still love Kiotr fanfictions. I read them. It makes me happy instead of angry.
Dude... PMS sucks.)
****
"Hey, Kitty" do you have any conditioner?" Kurt walked in through the door, a towel slung lazily over his shoulder.
Kitty raised an eyebrow from where she was sitting on her bed. "Why?" Skepticism laced her voice.
"I ran out. I have to keep my fur nice and soft." He stroked his arm. Sighing exasperatingly, she pointed over to her top dresser drawer. "Danke." he bowed mockingly after retrieving the blue bottle from its resting place.
"Shut the door." she shouted after him, returning to her homework only after she heard it click reassuringly into place. However, after several math problems and three chapters of "The Great Gatsby" her stomach rumbled menacingly. Patting it softly, she phased through her door, picturing the last piece of chocolate cake in her mind. She would have gotten it to, if she hadn't bumped into a certain Russian.
"I am, like, so sorry!" She gasped earnestly, getting off the floor and helping to pick up the papers that had scattered from the collision.
"It is fine, Katya." Came the deep, accented voice of Piotr Rasputin. "You merely startled me." He started his own stack of the papers.
"I should have watched where I'm going." Kitty chided herself for her lapse in attention.
"It is fine. I, also, wasn't concentrating. I have to admit that my mind has been elsewhere as of late."
Nodding, she handed her papers to Piotr, smiling in response to his thanks. She glanced briefly at the top of the stack. But when something caught her interest, she pulled the top leaf off. "Is this what you were scribbling furiously over at breakfast this morning?"
He moved over behind her shoulder so as to understand what she was talking about. "A letter to my family in Russia." He explained.
Not having knowledge of the Russian alphabet, Kitty asked him what it said.
"Oh, just telling them how I am, what America is like. It is explaining what it is like around here, and describing the people I have met. Things such as that.
"Anything about me?" She asked playfully, but straining her eyes to read the words, as if they would suddenly transform into English. Piotr, silently taken aback, pulled out another piece of paper and put it in her hands. "Here," he pointed to a word on the page. "It tells about the day that I cam here and met you and you are very friendly."
"Is that all?" Kitty's eyes met his. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
He hesitated. "Da." and then turned away, avoiding her gaze.
She moved her eyes back towards the letter, noting that the word he had pointed to was scattered about the page several other times. Her stomach became a roller coaster. Long silences never came naturally to Kitty Pryde. "Well I have a piece of cake I have to rescue." She stammered uncomfortably. But before she was completely immersed in the floor boards, she was stopped.
"Wait." It came from his lips, uttered deeply, quickly, and forcefully.
"Yes?"
He was looking at his thumbs, eyes narrowed. "I have been meaning to talk to you about something." He ran his hand through his black hair nervously. There was something about that hair that always made Kitty swoon. She wanted to run her own hands through it.
Her heart fluttered. She had daydreamed about moments like this. "What is it?" She inquired, trying to keep her voice calm and even.
Sighing, he let his shoulders drop, as if he had suddenly changed his mind and was ashamed for doing so. "Never mind. It is nothing." The large man turned around to go.
"May I guess?" Kitty touched Piotr's arms to make him stay. "You've been experiencing something these past few weeks. Its hard to breathe whenever we are together. Feelings have started to emerge." She bit her lip, hoping that she wasn't wrong in her supposal
He stared at her, a dumbfounded expression plastered about his face. "How did you know?"
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Because that's exactly how I feel." Instead of facing him with her challenging gaze, she met him softly.
He smiled. "I'm glad to have gotten that off my chest." He leaned down, kissed her cheek, and walked away, a spring in his step.
She walked back towards her room, her hunger, and the cake, completely forgotten.
****
(A/N: There... short, sweet. One-shot.
And I've gotten all the mush out of my system. I'll go back to being angry and hating love. I've missed my bitchy side. Being angsty and depressed and such has been no picnic.
I do still love Kiotr fanfictions. I read them. It makes me happy instead of angry.
Dude... PMS sucks.)