Author's Note: Hi! Thanks for all the reviews! I wasn't planning on having Lance and Peter get into a fight, but after reading the reviews I'm thinking about it, since I think he got taken down way too easily by Wisdom in Excalibur 92 (although, in his defense, he was in the middle of a nervous breakdown). Anyway, if you have an opinion on a Peter/Lance fight, speak up (although it probably won't get written until chapter 4 or 5). Thanks! Hope you like the story.

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Paint by Number

Chapter 2

"Rogue and Remy sittin' in a tree,

K-I-S-S-I-N-G,

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Rogue with the baby carriage!"

Kitty and Kurt laughed as they teased Rogue with their song.

"Ah swear, the two of you combined have tha maturity of a five year old!" Rogue fumed. "The only reason Ah came outside was to get away from the two of ya!"

"Really?" Nightcrawler asked in a shocked tone. "I thought it vas so you could sit in the sun and keep up your tan."

Rogue, not amused by her "brother's" sarcasm, rewarded him with a slap on the head. "Keep it up, and next time Ah hit ya, Ah won't be wearin' mah glove," the southerner warned menacingly before storming off towards the mansion, muttering about "pain in the ass friends" and "damn swamp rats."

Kitty sighed as she watched Rogue walk away. "It's, like, so sad when people ignore their feelings. Especially when following your heart can bring you so much happiness."

"Some people would rather be safe and settle for a satisfactory relationship then take a chance and be in a truly happy one. Sometimes they are too worried risking what they have for what they really want," Kurt told her in a serious tone.

Kitty frowned. Lately, her fuzzy friend seemed to be a lot more solemn and withdrawn, and she wondered if it had something to do with his strained relationship with his mother. "You sound like you're speaking from experience," she said gently.

"Ja," he muttered, looking away. "So do you."

She followed his gaze towards the lake, where he was looking at a lonely figure sitting alone by the water. From a distance, it was obvious it was Peter. Even without his steel form, he was still hard to miss.

"Your boyfriend looks sad. He must be missing you" Kurt joked, an amused smile coming back to his face.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Kitty exclaimed indignantly.

"Now you sound like Rogue."

"Except making fun of Rogue is like, funny."

"Eloquently put, Katzchen."

Kitty stuck her tongue at him. "Wow," she said. "Never thought I'd say this, but Rogue's right. We are, like, so immature."

"Ja," Nightcrawler agreed. But you're changing the subject. You got pretty defensive when I mentioned you and Peter."

"That's because there is no me and Peter. But there is a me and Lance, remember ?"

"I think Steel Face is a lot better for you than Seismic Activity Boy." Kurt said firmly. "Although I don't think either of them is the right guy for you," he added, so quietly that she didn't even heard him.

"What you say?" she asked her friend.

"I said, just go talk to him. Take a risk before it's too late. I wish I had." Before she could ask him to explain, he *bamfed* away.

Kitty shrugged. Peter did look like he needed a friend. And at least I'll be able to get away from the fire and brimstone stench of Kurt's porting, she thought to herself as she headed toward her Russian teammate.

"Hi Petey. Like, what are you up to?"

"Katya, hello," he said, a little startled by her interruption as he put down his sketchbook. "I did not even here you walk up. The mansion was so loud and crowded that I came out here to be alone."

"Oh." She figured she should leave and give him some privacy, but somehow she knew he needed someone right now. "Do you, like, mind if we be alone together?"

"Da. That would be pleasant."

Kitty sat down on the grassy bank a few feet from him. He returned to his drawing and, for once in her life, she stayed quiet. She was suprised to find herself enjoying the comfort of the silence.

He continued to sketch. She leaned back and stared up at the clouds, trying to figure out what they looked like. She found one that was shaped like a sword, one that seemed like a ninja, or maybe a dancer, she couldn't decide, and one that made her think of a pirate. Her favorite was a cloud that looked like a chubby dragon. The way the light hit it, it looked almost purple. She peacefully watched the cloud for as long as she could before the wind gently rearranged it into a new form and her little dragon friend disappeared. After her cloud had floated from view, she turned back to reality and realized that the absence of the sound of charcoal on paper meant that Peter had stopped sketching. She turned to look at him and found the Russian starring at her with a bemused smile on his face.

"What?" she asked, embarrassed.

"Did you know you suck your bottom lip when you're thinking?"

No I don't" she said assertively, knowing full well that she did, but mortified that he had noticed.

"It's not a bad habit. It's..." he searched for the right word. "It's endearing."

"Oh. Well, in that case, Tic Tac?"

"What?" He stared at her blankly.

"Tic Tac," she repeated, pulling a tiny plastic container from her pocket. "It's Wint-o-green fresh!" she added brightly.

He continued to stare at her. Then he stared at the box in her hand. Then back to her face. Then he burst out laughing. Not scary maniacal "I'm a little psycho" Pyro laughter, as one might expect from a former Acolyte, but deep, hearty good-natured Colossus laughter, which Kitty understandably preferred, and would have enjoyed., had he not been laughing at her.

"I apologize," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "But I have never met anyone quite like you. You are so wonderfully odd. Odd in a good way. Special. But I should not have laughed. Particularly on today."

"What's so special about today?" she asked, torn between feeling grumpy that he called her "odd," and elated that he thought of her as "special."

"My brother died five years ago today," he said quietly, turning away from her to stare at the water, all traces of a smile disappearing from his face.

"Is that why you came out to the lake?" she asked gently. "Because it reminds you of the one he taught you to swim in back home?"

"You remember," he exclaimed, touched that she hadn't forgotten a story that meant so much to him. "Yes, that's why I chose the lake." They sat quietly for a few moments, before Peter spoke again. "I drew a picture of him" he told her, handing the brown hair girl his sketch book. He stared at Kitty as she looked at his art, waiting for hear her opinion of his work.

"He looks a little like you. Except your more handsome." Piotr smiled. "How'd he die?"

"He was a cosmonaut in our country's space program. On his first real mission the shuttle exploded during the launch. Everyone aboard was killed."

Kitty moved closer to him and put a comforting hand on his knee, and waited for him to continue.

"I think being here is a good way to honor his memory," he said finally.

"You mean the lake-"

"No, I mean being with the X-Men. My brother was a hero. It would make him proud to know I was trying to be one too, I think."

"You don't have to try to be a hero, Peter. You already are one," she said sincerely.

He looked down at his sketch. "Mikhail would be honored to hear you say that. I know that I am."

Hesitantly, he placed his massive hand on top of her petit one, which was still resting on his knee. Unconsciously, their fingers entwined, and she tenderly caressed his pinky with her thumb. Slowly, he turned his head toward hers, and their eyes locked. For a moment, Kitty was sure he was going to kiss her, and her heart fluttered with anticipation. But they both knew that this was not the right time, nor the right situation. Peter broke their gaze first, desperately searching for something, anything, he could say to change the subject. Finally, it hit him.

"What were you staring at in the sky for so long?"

"Oh that. I was playing a game. My mom used to call it "Spilt Milk," like the book. You just look at the clouds and imagine what shape it looks like. I saw one earlier that looked like a dragon. And see that one? It looks like a ballet slipper."

"That one?"

"No, a little left."

"Oh, I see it. But it looks more like a paintbrush to me."

"That's cause you always have painting on the brain. Hey, what does that one look like to you?"

"A six armed woman with a sword. You?"

"I was going to go with "tree," but yours works too. That one looks like robot."

"The edges are too round for a robot. It's looks more like a boy."

"Compromise. It's a Roboboy. Or, better yet, a Roboy."

"Roboy it is."

And they spent the rest of the day like this, with their backs lying on the grass and their heads in the clouds, until the sun set and replaced their canvas with the darkness of night.