Warning: There's a bit of creepy touch and grooming (the grooming associated with sexual predators) in this chapter.

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Wobbly Recovery

Lance lay flat on his back, staring idly up at the grey, peeling ceiling. His cluttered bedroom with its pile of laundry strewn on the floor and the muffled sound of the TV coming from the living room faded into the background as he kept running through last week's mishap in his head.

He couldn't seem to erase Miguel's pained expression, his mouth torn into a grimace as he clutched his wrist. Even Wagner's raggedly torn knees would accompany Miguel's wretched form. For some reason, Wagner's parting insult - that Lance couldn't exactly translate but could take his best guess - lingered in his mind. It's not like he hadn't been insulted and cussed at before, but from Wagner, it was just so strange. After having spent the past week stewing about it, Lance could finally admit to himself it was all because he felt guilty.

Miguel had a fractured wrist because of him and was out for the rest of the year. Even though Miguel could no longer do any of the apparatuses, he still came to practice. Having to see him and hear everyone's sympathy to Miguel just weighed upon Lance. It was like trying to climb out of a pool in his clothes.

As for Wagner, if Lance thought he was cold to him before, he was downright icy now. He'd still hang around him and Mark like Mark requested, but he was so terse with Lance, only explaining an apparatus without even looking his way. It made Lance's guilt over his impulsive reaction compound even more. He was actually kind of hurt when Wagner would goof with Mark who Lance realized actually liked Wagner's stupid jokes. He just tried to hide it under a stalwart veneer. It pissed Lance off and he didn't know why. He had originally thought it was because he thought Mark would abandon him, but obviously that wasn't the type of guy Mark w as.

"Yo, Lance, come out here and watch this shit. It's fucking hilarious!" Toad's voice came right outside the door.

"Fuck off," Lance yelled, throwing a pillow. The pillow made a soft plop against the wall beside door before joining a growing pile of dirty shirts and jeans.

"Whatever, jerkoff."

Lance rolled away from the door, the bed squeaking in protest at his shifting weight. He didn't want to be bothered now, especially not by his annoying ass teammates.

Lance took his other pillow and bunched it up under his arms. He needed something to get this weight off of his conscience, and he couldn't figure out what that something was. He just knew it was all Wagner's fault. He just wanted their relationship to go back to the way it was, a mutual dislike. Not this cold treatment that made Lance curl up on his bed in doubt.

Fucking Christ, here he was trying to be a good, upright citizen and he couldn't even do that right. As these thoughts and images niggled his brain, Lance stared at the wall. It would be several hours still before he could drift off to sleep.

"Alright, spill." Mark said as he jumped down from the rings.

"What?"

"I was showing you how to do a handstand on the rings, and you just kept staring off into space. All practice, you've been distracted. It's you and Kurt."

"What? No, I-"

"Shut up." Sometimes Lance appreciated Mark's brusqueness. This was not one of those times. "Kurt's been pretty cold to you and that's not like him. I asked him why and he just said you'd pissed him off, but he wouldn't tell me why. Obviously, you're upset about this. You've been like this the past two weeks."

Lance started to deny Mark's accurate observations, but then figured maybe he should come clean. Or as clean as he could to Mark. Maybe Mark could help him get over these stupid feelings. Sighing resignedly, Lance picked up a towel and threw it towards Mark. "I did something pretty shitty and Wagner's the only one who knows what I did."

"Tell me." Mark caught the towel and began wiping his forehead. Once finished, he threw it back down beside the rings and began stretching out his arms.

"No."

Mark didn't seem to be affronted by Lance's frank response. Instead, he just continued to stretch, patiently waiting for Lance to continue.

"He probably has every right to be pissy at me. I fucked up."

"Apologize to him."

"W-What? No way."

"You said you fucked up, right? Do you want to fix your relationship?"

"Wagner and I don't have a 'relationship' of any sort. We hate each other."

"No, before you guys just didn't like each other. Were rivals or some stupid shit like that. Pretty idiotic if you ask me."

Lance sighed. It was hard to be made at Mark when he was just so forthright in his opinion. He wasn't sure if he agreed with Mark that he and Wagner 'just didn't like each other,' but he was right that their relationship had deteriorated. Lance wanted Mark's respect and he didn't know what he wanted from Wagner. It was confusing. He'd promise himself over the summer to turn himself around. Maybe this was just all part of that really painful – Lance glanced over at Wagner – really really really onerous process.

"Start off easy. Go over and ask him to help you out on this." Mark gestured to the large, intimidating expanse of floor that had been taped off into a giant performing area.

"I'm not apologizing to him."

"I didn't say to do that yet. Just ask him for help."

Lance stared at Mark, trying to outwait him and hoping Mark would just give in. But Mark wasn't a pushover. He resolutely stared back.

"Fine!" Lance threw his hands in the air. "I'll go ask Wagner."

Lance missed Mark's triumphant smile as he stormed off.

Kurt leaned down over his legs that were spread out in a V-position and touched both of his feet.

"Man, I can't believe Ms. Oswel wouldn't give me a pass on my geometry test." Miguel imitated Kurt, carefully making sure his right-hand embraced in a cast didn't jar against his foot as he stretched. "I mean hello, hand broken here."

"I think if we came in, threw up all over her desk and the tests, and then someone opened the window to get rid of the smell of the vomit and all the puke-covered tests blew out, she'd still find a way for us to take a test."

"That is oddly specific. You think about this often?"

Kurt grinned. "Maybe." He switched to leaning down completely in between his legs, keeping aware of whatever moves he did, that Miguel wouldn't have to rely on his hand to execute them.

Not being able to bend as far as Kurt, Miguel tried his best while still keeping up with the conversation. "You'd think something like an earthquake would change her mind. Even if it was just a small tremor. The Not So Big Quake – Not Even Letting Me Miss My Geometry Test."

Kurt laughed and sat up. "The Quake of Small Proportions – Survived by the Skin of My Knees."

"The Tiny Tremor – Felt By Few, Injured Two."

"That's pretty good. The Brief Shudder – Shaken, Not Stirred."

The two joked back and forth until Kurt spied Lance approaching them. His laughter trailed off as he wondered why Lance would even deign to be in his presence. True, he had been helping him out, but mostly in deference to Mark and to keep Coach Trieg off his back. It was one thing to use their powers against each other in battle or even when having a row at school. But it was different this time. They were on the same team, and Kurt was only trying to help him. And having his powers hurt a teammate - that was beyond the pale.

"Hey."

"Hey," Miguel returned the greeting.

Kurt continued to stretch in silence, guessing that Lance just wanted to check up on Miguel. Lance had been going out of his way to help Miguel, so at least it seemed that Lance regretted hurting him.

"How's the hand?" Lance asked.

"It's ok. Not hurting or anything. Just glad that Kurt's here to keep me company. I can't do much but stretch and lift weights with my left hand. I'll just do all the apparatuses one-handed. That should impress the judges."

"Actually, I came over to see if I could borrow Wagner." Lance made a face that looked like he had sucked on too many Warheads before continuing. "I need his help on the floor."

Kurt stopped stretching, surprised at Lance's request. Lance wasn't looking at him, as if embarrassed at lowering himself in asking for his help.

It's not like Kurt was in a position to refuse in front of Miguel. Besides, he was still keeping his promise to Mark. He just couldn't believe that Lance was the one coming over to sort of ask him for assistance.

"Um, ok. I'll catch you later then, Miguel."

"Yeah, come back anytime. I'll be here." Miguel laughed and waved them off.

They walked over to the floor area where Mark was standing, his blonde hair ruffled a bit by the A/C which blew particularly strong over this section of the gym.

Kurt snuck a few glances at Lance who seemed to be trying to do his best to face forward and pretend that he hadn't just asked Kurt for help. Shrugging off Lance's strange attitude, Kurt smiled and greeted Mark even though he knew he probably wouldn't get a response back.

"Hey."

"I suck at this. You should teach Lance."

No greeting back, but Kurt was used to it from Mark. It was kind of Mark's shtick and was slightly endearing.

So for the next half hour, Kurt helped Lance out on the floor. He mostly had him working on basic skills and drills that would be the essential foundation for a strong floor routine.

"Show me your handstand." Kurt dropped all niceties around Lance, just dishing out orders and criticism. He didn't really feel like Lance deserved to be treated as anything more than an unpleasant chore.

Lance rolled his eyes but went into a handstand.

"It needs to be straighter. You should be able to see your toes."

Lance straightened up, wobbling a bit as he reset his hands.

"Stretch more."

"I am," Lance growled out.

Kurt thought Lance's handstand now looked pretty good but passed on offering a compliment. "Now see how long you can hold that."

"How about we have a contest?" Mark walked up next to Kurt, admiring Lance's handstand. "Let's see who can hold their handstand the longest."

"What? Hey, that's kinda unfair here," Lance protested as he did his best not to teeter over.

"Sounds good." Kurt wouldn't mind showing Lance up.

"Let me go first and you correct my handstand." Mark assumed the upside-down position, letting Kurt give pointers to fix it. Kurt admired his handiwork at the two mostly perfect handstands in front of him.

"Come on, Wagner. You're just cheating."

Kurt ignored Lance but joined them in their game. He was sure they made some weird sight, all three of them upside down in a circle. "I bet everyone thinks we've all lost our minds. We probably look like we're performing some bizarre ritual."

"Ha, yeah." Mark agreed. "Like we're about to summon the demon of gymnastics."

Kurt had to suppress a smile at that. Wouldn't Mark be surprised to know that a demon-lookalike was doing a handstand right next to him.

After a bit, Mark started weaving before crashing down onto the mat. "I'm out. All the blood has gone to my head."

Kurt looked at Lance, who looked probably just as silly as him with his hair trailing over the mat.

"I'm not about to give in to you, Wagner." Lance, though, was wobbling more and more and his arms were shaking with exhaustion.

Kurt knew he had it in the bag. That is until his inducer let out a pathetic beep. He looked over to his wrist and saw that the battery level was running dangerously low. Kurt frowned, frustrated because he had just charged this one this morning. It probably needed to have its battery completely replaced. Luckily, he kept an extra one in his locker for emergencies like these.

He looked over at Lance, who was looking at him oddly. Well, he didn't have a choice but to let him win. Rolling down from his handstand, he said, "Lance wins. I'll be back in a bit." Not waiting for Mark's response, he ran off to his locker.

After Wagner left, Lance collapsed onto the ground. If Wagner's watch hadn't beeped, he'd probably be sprawled out under a triumphant furball. It was funny. He hadn't seen Wagner in so long without his false image, he'd almost forgotten.

"That was weird," Mark commented, looking after where Wagner ran off.

"Yeah, probably had to piss or something." For whatever reason, him and the rest of the Brotherhood had never taken striders to reveal Wagner, and he wasn't going to start now.

Mark shrugged and hauled Lance up to his feet then slapped him on the back.

"See, that wasn't too hard."

"I felt like I was going to collapse any second."

"Not the handstand. Getting Kurt to help you."

"What was the point? It's not like he acted any different." Lance shook his head, trying to get the blood flowing in the right direction.

"You went over to him. Showed him you valued his opinion."

Rolling his shoulders, Lance sighed in disbelief. "How the hell do you come up with all this shit?"

"My parents are psychologists. I talk to them about you and Kurt," Mark said matter of factly as if this was normal.

Lance wanted to burrow under the mats. How embarrassing to have his friend talk to his psychologist parents about his problems. But why look a gift horse in the mouth when he could possibly get some insight into his feelings that he himself was having trouble understanding.

"Then tell me, why do your parents think I should go through all this trouble to make up with someone I don't even like?"

"That's for you to figure out," Mark said enigmatically.

"Seriously." Of all the times for Mark to get cryptic. Lance shook his head and laughed. "Of course that's what you'd say."

"Next step, apology."

"Ok. Not funny anymore. Why the fuck should I apologize?"

Mark headed over to where their water bottles lay and tossed Lance his. He took a long drink before answering Lance. "You did something wrong, right?"

"To someone I fucking hate."Lance squeezed his bottle tightly, causing a bit of water to seep over the top.

"Fine." Mark seemed angry at Lance's declaration. "You hate Wagner. Why?"

Lance stuttered a second. He had never really had to put his feelings into words. "We have different opinions."

"I guarantee we don't agree on everything."

"This isn't like over what's the best movie or some stupid shit. It's big."

Mark sat walked over to a bench and sat down. He gestured for Lance to do the same, but Lance was too riled up to sit.

"Basically he thinks everyone should be all equal and play nice, and I think some people are just better than others. And some people are just assholes that need punching."

"Fuck, I don't even agree with you on that. Except the part about assholes. They always need a good dickpunch. Are you gonna hate me now too?"

Lance grew frustrated. He couldn't fully explain how Wagner and he were on different opposing sides on the mutant issue. To most of the populace, mutants didn't even exist. "No but it's Wagner. You don't understand."

"Ok, fine. Then what else about him." Mark put the bottle down a bit harshly, aggravated at seemingly getting nowhere in their conversation.

"We fight. Outside of school."
Mark looked incredulous at him. "You guys go and pick fights with each other on the weekends?"

"No, not exactly." Lance sat down next to Mark, growing tired of trying to explain without really explaining out all. "I mean we haven't fought in awhile. Man, in almost," Lance thought back in his head. Wasn't it last May the Brotherhood and the X-men had some altercation? "I guess at least six months ago."

"And you two would set up a time and fight each other. That's so …" Mark couldn't even imagine Wagner doing that. It seemed so out of character.

"Well no, not exactly. It's hard to explain, ok. I wasn't exactly going to fight Wagner. It was more of a clashing of ideas thing again."

"So you fought but it wasn't exactly against him and you haven't for awhile."

"Um, yeah. I guess."

" So what's the big deal?"

Lance stared at Mark, stumped to answer his question. It'd had just always been like this. All the Brotherhood hated all the X-men and vice versa. What else was there to say? Did he hate Wagner or did he just hate him on principal that he was an X-man? Lance stared off into space, trying to think of any other reasons he could claim for hating Wagner. None really came to mind.

"Fine, I don't hate Wagner. I just dislike him. A lot."

"Progress!" Mark slapped Lance on the back again. "Now go apologize."

Lance growled in frustration, already imagining how that conversation was going to go. "Fine. I'll do it, but I want to be alone. Don't need you hovering while I make an ass of myself."

"I've seen that plenty of times already."

Lance had finished changing into his street clothes, but didn't leave just yet. He was resolute in his actions even though it was going to be a pain in the ass. For the rest of practice, Lance couldn't keep his eyes off the clock. He had hoped Wagner had needed to go home, but it seemed he'd found a charged inducer. Now he was stuck, waiting around to implement Mark's stupid plan.

Seeing that Wagner was also almost ready to go, he headed over to him, hoping to have a private conversation after everyone left the locker room.

"Hey, Wagner. Can you stay a second? I want to talk with you."

Wagner closed his locker and studied Lance's features. Whatever it was that he saw, he set his stuff down and said, "Fine." He sat down on the bench and crossed his arms.

Lance didn't want to stand around like an idiot, so he stepped over the bench and sat across from Wagner. It was oddly reminiscent of his first day on the team.

They sat in silence, trying not to look at each other. Only the hurried packing of their other teammates served as background noise. It didn't take long for the room to clear thanks to the widespread knowledge of their increasing volatile relationship.

Once they were alone, the silence lingered for a bit more. Lance had no idea how to start.

"Well?"

Lance sighed. He readied himself to take the plunge. "Look Wagner." He paused and thought about what other advice Mark had given him. He'd suggested addressing Wagner by his first name to try and bridge some mental barrier Lance had erected or whatever psychologist mumbo jumbo Mark parroted from his parents. If he was really going to do this, he might as well go all in. "Ok, Kurt."

Wagner didn't respond to that except with a raised eyebrow.

"Right. Fuck this is hard."

Luckily Wagner, no Kurt now Lance mentally corrected himself, was willing to be patient and waited for Lance to collect his thoughts.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what I did a few weeks ago. It was stupid, and I was just really angry, and –"

"Someone got hurt, Lance. It wasn't just some stupid thing, but really dangerous and cruel."

"I know!" Lance stood up and threw his hands in the air. "I know. Fucking Christ. I fucked up. There I said it. You happy? But I'm trying to make up for it now."

"How?"

"I'm apologizing, aren't I?"

"So? Anyone can say sorry. How do I know you won't do it again?"

"Because I won't!" Why couldn't Wagner- Kurt-whatever, just let it go? Did he have to make this so fucking difficult? "What the hell do you want? A box of chocolates and an apology letter?"

Now Kurt was on his feet, gesticulating with an angry sweep of his hand. "How about some actual contrition."

"I am contrite. I'm so contrite I'm apologizing to you! And Jesus Christ, contrition? Is that like your word of the day?"

"Hey, hey! What's going on in here?" Trieg stormed in, an exasperated expression on his face until his eyes lit upon Kurt. He seemed to soften his glare and came to stand beside him. Lance was disgusted. "Ok, tell me what's going on here."

"Nothing, Coach. Just a small tiff," Kurt replied as calmly as he could, but Lance spotted his tail flash briefly into existence before it angrily lashed back under the effect of the inducer.

Lance tried to pass a warning off to Kurt with a telltale stare at him and then towards where he saw his tail.

He didn't know if Kurt received his message, but Kurt seemed to adjust his stance, and Lance didn't see his tail again.

Unaware of their silent communication, Trieg reproached, "Didn't sound small to me."

Lance crossed his arms defensively, ready to be ratted out by Kurt as some instigator.

Kurt just shrugged in response to Trieg. "It was nothing. Just over something stupid."

Trieg was obviously not convinced but let it slide. Probably in deference to his favorite student, Lance snidely thought.

"So you two really don't get along, huh. I don't want this infighting on my team, now do I. Alright then. Kurt, you don't need to help out Alvers anymore. Mark can take over those duties. Unless it would be better just to have Alvers off the team?"

Kurt seemed a bit taken aback at the question posed towards him from Trieg. Lance couldn't believe his fate was being left to him. He was so going to kick his ass if he…

"No, no. Lance should stay." Kurt snuck a glance towards him before looking back at Coach. "He's a good asset for the team."

"You're right, he is. But are you two going to be able to at least be civil towards each other?"

"Ja."

Lance curtly nodded.

"Alright. I'll leave it in your hands. I better not hear of any more fighting." Trieg bent down and picked up Kurt's bag.

"Come on, I'll take you home, Kurt."

Lance stared after them, baffled at Kurt's unexpected magnanimity.

During the car ride, Trieg expressed his regret at making Kurt be Lance's mentor. Kurt let him prattle on, his thoughts mostly drifting back to Lance apologizing. Coming from Lance, that was a big thing. And even though it could've gone better, just the fact that Lance took steps to apologize blew his mind. He shouldn't have been so dismissive, but he was still pretty pissed with Lance. Still, Lance had extended the olive branch, though it might've been slightly on fire and smoking, Kurt could at least meet him halfway. Maybe next Monday when they had practice again he could show Lance that he'd be willing to put aside their differences.

The car slowing down to a stop right outside the mansion drew Kurt out of his thoughts.

"I hope you'll think about what I said."

Kurt nodded, not having any idea what Coach was talking about.

"Thanks for the ride," Kurt said as he twisted around to reach back for his bag.

"Hey." Trieg put his hand on Kurt's side as he was mid-stretch towards the back. Kurt's heart began to race; but otherwise, he didn't know how to react to that, so he just continued to fish for his bagpack. Trieg didn't continue whatever it was he was going to say, which made it even more awkward as Kurt rummaged around.

Once having found his bag, he turned back around and looked over to Trieg. He wanted more than anything to bolt out of the car, but didn't think that would be appropriate. Trieg was his coach and did seem to genuinely like him. It was just weird, sitting in his car outside the mansion. Since it was already late fall, the sun had already set. The moon was bright and as it shone through the branches, it cast strange shadows onto Trieg's face. Trieg stared at him, one blue eye lit in moonlight while the other was hidden in shadow. Kurt began to fidget with the handles of his bagpack.

Trieg finally moved his hand only to place it on the side of Kurt's head, through his hair. Kurt nervously twitched, hoping that Trieg didn't notice his fur-covered, pointed ear, but Trieg didn't say a thing about.
"I should've listened to you, Kurt. I'm sorry for making you and Lance work alongside each other. But I'm proud of you, letting Alvers stay on the team was a tough decision but I think for the best. "

Kurt imperceptibly nodded and glanced towards the passenger door. It was still locked.

"If you ever need a ride again. I'm always willing."

Kurt didn't bring up how he actually didn't need a ride, that it was Trieg who suggested it. He usually wound up porting several times until he got back to the mansion, but he couldn't use that excuse on Trieg. Too caged to think of an excuse, Kurt could only respond, "Thanks for the offer."

Finally, after an eternity, Trieg sat back and unlocked the car door.

Kurt hurriedly gathered his bag and got out of the car.

"See you tomorrow in gym class!" Trieg shouted as he closed the door. The car didn't drive off, but sat there before the gate. Kurt had to manually enter the code instead of his usual porting straight to his room. He wasn't able to breathe a sigh of relief until almost the entrance of the mansion when he heard Trieg drive off.

Lance really didn't expect to have Wagn-Kurt come up to him and suggest practicing together. He thought for sure after their blowup in the locker room, that Kurt would go back to avoiding him or being cold. For whatever reason, it seemed that Kurt was going to give him a chance.

They stood on the floor routine mats, while Mark was back on the rings, practicing on his own. This time, though, Kurt did more than just order and criticize. He was doling out helpful tips and praise.

"No, that looks strange. Let me show you what I mean." Stepping back a bit, Kurt executed an aerial.

"I don't see what I'm doing different."

"I dunno. Yours looks just strange." Kurt shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe if you saw a video of yourself…."

Lance wasn't thinking about doing his aerial correctly anymore. So far, practice had actually been nice without the constant icy glares and clipped remarks. It seemed that Mark was right, and he didn't actually hate Kurt. He was no longer the worst thing to be around, but he was still towards the bottom of his list. Still, when Lance looked over to Mark, he couldn't help but feel like he would be disappointed in his lame apology. He'd probably want Lance to redo it, to really make amends.

"Hey, are you listening?"

"Look, I am really sorry. I didn't want Miguel to get hurt. I was just really pissed off and decided to, I dunno, fuck with you," Lance said in a rush, figuring his apology –his real apology - could be like a Band-Aid, ripped off and done in one go.

"Ok," Kurt drew out the okay, wondering where this train of thought had come from. "But I don't understand why you were angry. I was helping you. And we haven't fought in months."

Lance shrugged. He didn't want to admit that he was jealous of him and Mark's camaraderie. "Old habits?"

Kurt didn't believe him but let it slide. It's not like he expected Lance to reveal his true feelings now that they were on speaking terms.

"I am sorry for what happened to Miguel. I didn't want him to get hurt."
Kurt took that to mean it would've been all okay if he had been the one more gravely injured. But what did he expect. They weren't friends, and Lance probably still hated him. At least he knew that Lance wasn't a total jerk to everyone. Mostly just to him. "So are you looking for me to tell you that you're forgiven?"

"I guess."

Kurt looked over to Miguel who was picking up a weight to do some lifts. He sighed. Lance at least seemed apologetic for his actions inadvertently hurting Miguel. "Look, Miguel is really nice. I'm sure even if he knew it was you, he'd probably forgive you knowing it was an accident."

Lance looked relieved.

Kurt turned away, figuring that's all that Lance wanted from him. "Did you need any more help on-"

Kurt was surprised when Lance pulled him back around.

A tight expression painted across his face, Lance looked like he had stepped on a Lego. "And I'm sorry. To you. I was stupid and rash." Lance looked around furtively as if afraid someone would overhear him. "I don't hate you or anything and I don't want to injure you. Except you know, if you're going against the Brotherhood. Then that's okay."

A bit taken aback by Lance's blunt apology, Kurt stared at Lance dumbfounded. "I, um, don't hate you either?" Kurt really didn't know what to say. He thought about how Lance had tried to warn him about his tail in the locker room even though they were in the middle of a big fight. Maybe Lance wasn't so terrible. "And I guess I forgive you too."

"Good." Lance rethought that. "That is, thanks. I'm not asking to be friends or anything like that." Lance and Kurt both scoffed at that idea. "Just to, I dunno, treat me like a teammate. I want to be part of this team."

"So if I'm nice to you, you're nice to me and vice versa?"

"Yeah, that's the idea."

"I can live with that."

They stood there awkwardly a few seconds before Kurt gestured back to the floor. "So do you still need help?"

"Yeah, show me your aerial again."

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*So all that handstand stuff I got from "drills and skills . com."

*So now Lance will be calling and thinking of Kurt as Kurt instead of Wagner, which will make my life that much easier.

Thanks for reading, and please take the time to review.