Chapter 9
Lance shifted in his seat in the back of the classroom before sinking lower to avoid the teacher's gaze. There was some boring class discussion going on about The Merchant of Venice or some other stupid Shakespeare play he hadn't bothered to read. He didn't understand how some of the nerds got so involved in debating old ass plays that had been around forever. Couldn't they just read the Sparknotes and be done? As long as he sat in the back of the class and looked like he was paying attention, he could avoid being called on and wander off into his own thoughts.
Tuning out the droning of his classmates, his mind started drifting to a recent favorite fantasy of his. One that involved the Danger Room and Kurt. He had added a bit more detail each time – the commanding way he'd step forward, the just so tilt of his head, the grasping and panting….. This time he focused on the clothes. Maybe they'd been sparing and there just so happened to be a few tantalizing slashes of clothing revealing hints of a lithe form. Next he'd reach down and grab-
Stop. He had to stop there. He never let his fantasies get too carried away. Cause it's not like he was gay. A little make-out fantasy didn't mean anything. He was just exploring. Everyone explored. He was just doing it in the safety of his own head. But if his daydreams went a step any further, he'd have to start listening to Cher and buy hair gel.*
Besides, sometimes if he took it too far, his imagination would twist on him and replace the Danger Room romp with last Tuesday. The locker room, Trieg pressed down on Kurt, his hands all over him, possessing. Each time Lance remembered, his mood would darken and he found it difficult to reign in his temper. He was glad that Professor Xavier had taken care of Trieg (he assumed) given the absence of that asshole. Still, if he ever came across Trieg, he'd beat him until the only thing that remained was an unidentifiable lump of blood and pain.
What worried Lance, though, was that Kurt had been back since Monday, and here it was Wednesday and Lance had yet to have any meaningful interaction with him. Anytime Lance had tried to have a conversation, Kurt would give some short response or some excuse to leave. He hadn't even been to gymnastics practice. Was it because of Trieg? Or what if it was because of their argument before that? One thing for sure, Lance absolutely didn't like it. He wasn't going to let their differences in opinion affect their friendship. And he for sure wasn't going to let some asshole coach cause Kurt to shunt him away.
He was already beginning to formulate a plan. First things first, he needed to get Kurt to just talk to him for more than a few seconds. Lunch was next period so he could make his move then. So far so good. Then what? …. Lance doodled a bit in his notebook, frustrated. He could convince Kurt to come back to gymnastics practice, and things could return to normal. At least for the last few weeks before the final tournament. But then it'd be winter break and no more gymnastics. What if gymnastics was the only thing tying them together? What if they stopped hanging out? What if he couldn't even get him to come back to gymnastics? The dark, chaotic circles Lance had been mindlessly tracing in his notebook, endlessly looping like Lance's thoughts, finally ripped through to the next page.
"Fuck."
"Mr. Alvers, do you have something you wish to add to our conversation?" Ms. Oppenheim asked as she made her way down the aisle towards his desk.
"No," Lance replied as he closed his notebook and tried to look indifferent to the fact that everyone was now turned around staring at him.
"Surely you must have an opinion on what we were discussing. Please, do share."
Lance glared at Ms. Oppenheim's shrewd smile. She knew that he wasn't paying attention and had him cornered.
"Well…" Lance hemmed and hawed, rattling his brain to repeat something intelligent he'd read in the Sparknotes.
"We're all dying to know what remarkable insight you have hidden to yourself," Ms. Oppenheim openly mocked.
Just then the bell rang.
"Saved by the bell, Mr. Alvers. We'll continue this discussion tomorrow. For the next class, please read pages…"
Lance didn't hear the rest of the instructions, already making a beeline for the cafeteria, wanting to grab Kurt before he somehow slipped by him again.
After a few eternal minutes of scanning the hallways, he finally spotted him making his way. He was talking animatedly to some people Lance only knew in passing, laughing at some joke one of them had made. Lance felt a flash of jealously pass over him, and before he knew it, he had stormed over to the small group.
"I need to talk to you." Lance grabbed Kurt's arm, not letting him get a word in as he started dragging him away.
"Lance, what're you –" Kurt tried to protest as he stumbled after Lance.
Lance cut Kurt off. "No, we're going to talk right now. No excuses this time. We're going to – "
This time it was Lance who was forced to stop in the middle of the hallway as Kurt wrenched his arm free from his grasp.
Lance turned around ready to give Kurt a telling to for trying to avoid him again, but he recoiled at the irritation blatantly directed at him.
"You can't just pull me around like some piece of luggage." Kurt crossed his arms over his chest.
"I wasn't. I-" Lance faltered in the face of Kurt's anger. He hadn't meant to upset him. It had just been so long since they'd talk and then to see him merrily conversing with other students. He didn't know what came over him. "I just wanted to talk with you."
The rush for the cafeteria was dying down, leaving them with only a handful of students to skirt around their awkward conversation.
Kurt sighed. He couldn't be angry at Lance for long, not with his earnest and apologetic expression. "Alright, but I just need to go get lunch first."
"Yeah, me too." Lance, still chagrined at his behavior, quietly agreed. "Just meet me underneath the tree in front of the science lab."
"We could just go together in the line, you know."
"Yeah, but um…" Lance felt guilty saying it but he still couldn't handle if any of the Brotherhood saw them together. He didn't want to face that just yet.
"Right," Kurt sighed but didn't say anything else as he headed off to the cafeteria.
Lance stood there for a few minutes before he followed. He just hoped their conversation during lunch wasn't as painful and uncomfortable as this one was.
Luckily, the area under the tree was unoccupied when Lance finally got through the line. It was a reclusive spot, on the far side of the front lawn, away from the bustle of the rest of the students hanging out on picnic benches. Lance couldn't wait until next year when he could leave campus for lunch as a senior. The cafeteria food just plain sucked.
For December, the weather was relatively mild except when the wind blew a chilly blast that pierced straight through any layer of clothing. Settling down, Lance impatiently waited for Kurt. He figured Kurt would've gotten here first considering he went through the line first. It made Lance nervous. What if Kurt just didn't show up?
Before Lance could worry himself into a frenzy, Kurt exited the front doors, tray in hand, and made his way over to the tree.
"Hey, what took you so long?"
"I had to stop and explicitly explain to the Brotherhood that I was definitely not eating with you and that they should be sure to stay inside for lunch and not come near this tree," Kurt said matter-of-factly as he sat down next to Lance.
Lance stared dumbfounded a second before his mind caught up with Kurt's words. "Hey!"
"Don't worry. I made sure they didn't see me come over here, ok?"
"Yeah… thanks." There was a pause as Lance tore off a bite of chicken nugget. He didn't know how to begin so he just stated what was on his mind. "You know, I missed hanging – you at gymnastics practice." Lance changed up what he was going to say, not wanting to be some sap that can't get by without seeing Kurt for a week.
Kurt looked at him a little funny but just shrugged in response. "I didn't really feel like going back."
"We need you, though." Lance decided for now he would try to avoid bringing up Trieg. First step was to get Kurt back to the gymnastics team, not alienate him immediately with talking about the bastard. "The final tournament is just in two weeks. Without you, we're gonna look like ass."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "You all will be fine. Mark will own rings and Jose's gotten even better at the horse. And you've gotten really great too."
Lance slightly swelled with pride from the praise. "Come on, you know you're the best we got."
"The season's almost over. You don't-"
Lance interrupted whatever excuse Kurt was about to invent. "Exactly, the season is almost over, so it'd just be two more weeks."
"I dunno." Kurt looked down, his gaze focused on mechanically dabbing a chicken nugget in ketchup, avoiding Lance's eyes.
Lance suspected that Kurt was perhaps thinking about Trieg. He wanted to reach out and comfort him, but instead tried to divert his thoughts. "It's just not the same without you. Mark needs you, and…" Lance felt hesitant to finish his sentence, afraid it might divulge more than he wished to but Kurt didn't seem to be easily convinced. He needed to say this. "…and I need you there too."
"Why?" Kurt finally looked up at him, curious at the unusual vulnerability Lance was displaying.
"Cause, you know." Lance shrugged.
Kurt put a hand up to his head and concentrated hard at Lance. "Nope, still not telepathic. Sorry. Looks like you'll have to tell me."
Lance smiled, tension slightly released at Kurt's humor. "Well," Lance began nervously. He wasn't so good at saying his emotions out loud. It was just a little embarrassing. "Cause at practice, we're friends and all. Then when it's not gymnastics practice, I don't get to see you… or Mark," he hastily added.
"We hang out on the weekends, though." Kurt added as he popped a nugget into his mouth.
"Yeah, for now. What if when it's all over, we don't have anything to talk about. And then we won't get to talk until after the winter break, and we won't get to see each other for so long."
"Wait. Why? What's happening during the break?"
"Aren't you going home to Germany?"
Kurt shook his head. "Not until summer. So we'll have plenty of time to talk about what horror movie we can gross Mark out with next."
"Oh." Lance couldn't help but smile a little. It was good to know that despite any arguments they had, Kurt still wanted to be friends. Though, what if he'd forgotten in the face of what else had happened.
"Don't be an idiot. Of course we'll all still be friends after gymnastics. Mark made sure of that."
Lance dreaded bringing this up but it had to be faced. "What about our fight? In the locker room." He looked furtively around before whispering, "About the Brotherhood and X-men."
"Oh. I…." Kurt hunched down over his lunch, swirling a nugget in some ketchup but not eating it. "I dunno."
"Can't you at least respect my opinion? I'm Brotherhood. I'm not going to change."
"Yeah, but how can you say that everyone who's not a mutant isn't good enough? Isn't worth protecting?" Kurt gestured at all the other students milling about, laughing at something their friends said, or simply enjoying the weather.
Lance didn't even bother looking. "Cause they aren't."
"But –"
"Trieg." Lance felt slightly guilty at bringing him up but his name just kinda slipped out. But the cat was out of the bag. Might as well go with it. "He certainly isn't good enough."
Kurt cringed at the name, but wasn't about to be shut down. "He's just one person. Not some representative of all non-mutants."
Lance knew this wasn't going to get them anywhere. Neither one of them was going to budge on the topic. "I didn't want this to be some endless debate," he sighed. "We've been doing pretty good so far without arguing about it, right? At least until this last week. How come we can't continue that?"
"Just ignore it?"
"Yeah."
"And when there's the next battle? What then? What if we start fighting each other more often?"
"Well, the last battle didn't go too badly, right? I mean, I didn't attack you and you didn't attack me. That seemed to work." Kurt just stared back exasperated, but Lance hurriedly continued on before he could interject. "And next time, I'll be more careful of bystanders, ok?" It wasn't that he was overly concerned for any idiot who got in the way of their fight. But if Kurt was and if it could help sort out their problem, then he could make that sacrifice.
Kurt sighed in resignation. "I guess. It wouldn't be any different from Democrats and Republicans. They can be friends, right?"
Lance gave Kurt a sideways, bizarre look.
"I just had History," Kurt said in defense.
Feeling the tone of the conversation lighten, Lance went along with it. "Couldn't you at least use a cooler example?"
"Like the Jets and the Sharks?"
Lance groaned. "I said cooler, not lamer."
"They're rivals, like us."
"They dance and sing. I will never be caught dancing or singing."
Kurt grinned. "That would be pretty great. Seeing Magneto bust out with 'I'm so Pretty.'"
"Ugh, no. I don't even want to imagine."
"Fine. Hm. How about The Trekkies and the Star Wars… Warsies? Warziens? Fans? Are they called something special?"
"Just no. I'm about to get up and leave."
"Ok. How about the X-boxers vs. the Playstioners?"
"I'm going to squirt this ketchup package all over you if you don't stop."
"The Gut Bombians versus the -"
Lance tired to stay gruff but couldn't hold back a chortle. "Now you're just making stuff up."
"Us, Gut Bombians take our greasy hamburgers very seriously."
"Yeah, I'm sure. But in all seriousness, we're agreed then? No bringing up any Brotherhood and X-men arguments."
"Alright," Kurt agreed a bit skeptically but if Lance was willing then he could at least try too.*
"You know," Lance started to say before pausing. The topic of Trieg had been rattling around his brain the whole time, like a buzzing fly swarming around his head. He had been apprehensive about bringing him up, but Kurt seemed to be in high spirits and didn't seem too affected by his earlier slipup. Maybe now was the time to broach the subject. Not having really gotten to speak with Kurt except through terse text messages since that dreadful night, Lance needed to know how he was really doing. Not knowing of any elegant way to broach the subject, Lance just dove right in, "About Trieg. How're you handling it?"
Lance could see Kurt fold into himself, like shutters slamming down while he folded into himself.
"I just don't want to talk about it."
They sat there awkwardly for a second before Kurt got up.
"I'm gonna go throw this away." Kurt gestured to the tray in his hand. "Want me to get yours?"
"Um, sure." Lance handed Kurt his empty lunch tray and watched as Kurt headed over to the garbage can. How was he so good at fucking up their conversations? Kurt seemed fairly steady if not reluctant to talk about Trieg. Lance couldn't swoop in and be a shoulder to cry on or whatever other cliché. But he also didn't want to press the topic. They had finally been having a good, relaxing time. He didn't want it to stop.
When Kurt returned, Lance asked, "So, did you hear Treepocalypse totally bombed at the box office?" It was a non sequitur, but he didn't know what else to say.
Kurt visibly relaxed. "Ja? Deserved it."
"You didn't have to stay and watch the rest of it. Man, it just got worse," Lance said as he leaned back against the tree. Satisfied that his ploy worked, Lance enjoyed the rest of the lunch period with them bemoaning the utter stupidity of Treepocalypse.
His hands clutched in his hair with frustration, Kurt read, then reread, then rereread the same incomprehensible dialogue. He stared at the words as if they'd somehow magically rearrange to make sense. Maybe he could find the book translated into German. Sure the play had been assigned for English, but it's not like that'd really be cheating, right?
He carelessly tossed the play onto his desk and leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling, as if it held the answer. The Merchant of Venice teetered on the edge before, perhaps in retribution, electing to plummet to the floor. Kurt fumbled to catch the book, but instead ended up tipping too far back in his chair. This time he clutched his head in physical pain while shooting a venomous glare towards the play that had landed just beside his head.
"Having a little trouble?" came an amused voice from his doorway.
"Ja," Kurt grumbled while picking himself and the book off the floor. He righted his chair before vehemently chucking the play back onto his desk. "Why couldn't it just be written in English English?"
Logan stifled a small smile at Kurt's evaluation of Shakespearean writing. "Come on and take a break. There's hot cocoa waiting downstairs."
Kurt sighed before nodding in acquiescence. It probably wasn't a bad idea. Just, he was still adjusting to Logan's sudden interest in his day-to-day life. It had been incredibly strange and awkward the first time Logan had knocked on his door and started asking about his day. But, at least he knew he wasn't the only one suffering from the teachers' focused attention. In fact, all the teachers had suddenly involved themselves in talking to the students. Rogue had remarked to him how Ororo had taken her and Jean out for an unexpected-but-actually-not-so-terrible manicure/girl talk after school earlier this week. Kurt thought Rogue's new black nails streaked with red suited her.
He assumed the bizarre conversations had started due to what had happened to him. At least, so far all the times Logan had talked to him he hadn't brought it up. Overall, though, it was strange but not as terrible as he thought it could be.
With one last glare at the battered copy of the play, Kurt followed Logan downstairs to the kitchen. Through the large, open windows, Kurt caught glimpses of heavy snowfall against the pitch of night. He hadn't realized how long he'd actually been spectacularly failing at deciphering Shakespeare.
In the kitchen, he rummaged around the pantry for marshmallows while Logan heated up the milk. No one else was around, so the house was oddly quiet. Kurt stood in the pantry, nervously clutching a bag of marshmallows. The times Logan had popped in this week had revolved around how he was doing at school, having missed several days last week or other mundane topics. What if it was this time that Logan brought up Trieg? Kurt had successfully avoided discussing him with anyone so far since the talk with the Professor. And he was fine with it remaining that way. His brain betrayed him enough, conjuring up images of last Tuesday – Trieg's lustful gaze, his hands, touching, his –
Kurt closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, purging the images from his mind. Knowing if he staying any longer in the pantry, Logan might start thinking he'd been attacked by the expired jar of pickled pigs feet that no one dared touch, Kurt reluctantly reached for the door.
Luckily, either Logan hadn't noticed or didn't feel like he needed to bring up his delay. Logan was just removing the milk from the microwave. Kurt placed the marshmallows on the granite countertop of the island and climbed up onto one of the barstools. He watched, mystified as Logan took heaping spoonfuls of cocoa mix and dropped them into the bottom of two blue, ceramic mugs. It was just so strange seeing Logan do something so mundane and strangely motherly.
When Logan turned around with them in hand, he noticed Kurt's expression. "What?"
"Nothing. Just pretty sure I'm in an episode of the Twilight Zone."
With a soft clack, Logan placed the steaming cups next to the marshmallows and joined Kurt on a barstool. "I like hot chocolate," Logan stated so candidly that Kurt just shrugged and plopped three giant, fluffy marshmallows in each cup.
"So-"
"It's just weird-"
"What's weird?" Logan asked, dropping whatever he was about to say.
Kurt made a vague encompassing gesture. "The way you've been all, I dunno, parental? Asking about my day and school and stuff."
Logan grunted a noncommittal reply and took a sip of hot cocoa.
Kurt clutched at his mug, letting the warmth from the cup seep into his hands. "Is it because of… you know."
Logan stared at him a second, as if judging his response before confessing the truth. "In part. It made us realize how we had messed up – not talking to you or the others enough outside of the Danger Room or X-men problems."
Kurt felt guilty. "I…" He glanced away from Logan. He hadn't wanted to discuss Trieg, but he didn't want them to shoulder his burden. He was the one at fault, not the others. "I probably wouldn't have said anything anyway."
"Maybe, maybe not. Just the Prof and the rest of us have decided this is for the best. We're here for you." Logan immediately took a long drink from his mug, not daring to risk any more schmaltz.
Kurt took his cue and shifted the topic a bit. "So I guess that's why the Professor's been bugging me."
"Yeah. He said you weren't really receptive. Still angry about him reading your thoughts last week?"
Kurt shrugged, but a quick lashing of his tail betrayed his thoughts.
"He screwed up, that's for sure. But he was just trying to help you. Think about forgiving him."
Kurt thought that the Professor should apologize first to him; instead, he just replied, "Alright."
"About last week…."
Kurt braced himself. He had hoped that that topic had been exhausted for now, but no such luck. In fact, he'd done a great job of not thinking about it at all. Trieg was gone. It was over with. No need to talk about it anymore. And, if he ever thought of Trieg, he just distracted himself. There was school and training at the mansion or Lance or Mark to talk to. And homework.
The hardest was when he was trying to go to sleep. Then everything he had suppressed throughout the day crystallized into a poisonous cloud.
"You should really think about telling the others."
Kurt looked down at his hot chocolate. He hadn't had a chance to take a sip yet, and now the marshmallows were mostly melted, sticking out like small icebergs in a pool of chocolate. Quietly, he asked, "Why… why would they need to know?"
He felt more than saw Logan shift his body to face his. "I used to ask myself that same question. And sometimes I still do. It's not easy to share things that're painful."
Hearing the wistful tone in his voice, Kurt looked over at Logan. His eyes stared out the kitchen window, as if lost in his own anguish. Kurt wondered what it was that Logan kept hidden from them. If he had shared his pain with anyone. But that thought was quickly hushed when Logan turned back to Kurt. His gaze was intense. "But friends are there to support you."
Kurt couldn't maintain eye contact and looked anywhere but at Logan. He really didn't want them to know. Didn't want to relive the experience. Didn't want to see their reactions. Just the thought of it made the shame course through his body like a searing dagger.
"Think on it. But I didn't want to talk to you just about that. How's it been back at school? Catch up on all your work?"
While glad for the shift in conversation, Kurt thought it was very strange. In fact, before this week, he never had this conversation before really. He'd had long rambling ones with his parents when he first started school but he'd never had this 'how was your school day' conversation. "Ja, everything's good."
Logan cracked a smile. Typical response from a teenager. "What about gymnastics? You'd said Lance had convinced you to finish up the season."
Kurt took a drink from his hot chocolate. Now that they were talking about easier topics, the drink seemed appealing again. "Ja, there's a tournament in about a week. Right before winter break."
"I'll be there."
Kurt was surprised if not a bit skeptical. Never had any of the teachers shown up at any of his tournaments. He wouldn't hold his breath.
"If you need any pointers, I can help you out. I may not be the most acrobatic, but I got a good eye."
"Ja, maybe. The new coach typically just works with the basket and baseball teams. He's just filling in so we have a teacher there when we practice."
"I'm sure we can set up some gymnastic system in the Danger Room. Even get Lance over here to practice too."
"Yeah, sounds good."
"I'd never guess it'd happen, but Lance, he's changed. How'd you do it?"
"It wasn't me. Lance decided he wanted to change and so he did."
"Hn," Logan answered. "Good for him." Though, Logan didn't doubt what Kurt said, he also knew that that type of change didn't happen without help. "Any chance of him joining back up with the X-men?"
Kurt shook his head. "No. We've fought over it. I just can't see why he believes the Brotherhood is right. How can anyone think of other people as inferior?"
"Sad to say, it seems like the status quo nowadays. If only more people thought like you." Logan wasn't usually so maudlin but he thought Kurt could use a bit of a boost.
Kurt slightly smiled at the praise and took a sip of cocoa. He was glad that his blushing was well hidden by his fur.
"So did you and Lance come to any resolution?"
"Just that we wouldn't discuss it, and in a fight, we'd just avoid each other."
"And if the fight turned pivotal around you two?"
Kurt shrugged before finishing off his hot chocolate. "I know it's not a perfect solution, but what else is there? I don't want to just say we can't be friends."
"Seems like you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. That means when you-"
Kurt waved off Logan's explanation of the idiom. "I know that one."
"Right. It's a tough situation. Just know that when the moment comes – and that moment will come - you're going to have to make a call on what to do."
There was that look again in Logan's eyes. While Kurt didn't dare ask Logan what caused his anguish for fear that it would just lead the conversation back to Trieg, he couldn't help but wonder about it.
"But you know," Logan continued as he gathered up his and Kurt's empty mugs, "I know you'll do what's best. You got a good heart."
"I hope so." Kurt started to gather up the marshmallows and hot chocolate powder.
"Don't worry about that. I got it. You should go continue working on your Shakespeare. I'd help you out but I don't get much of what he wrote."
"Thanks for the hot chocolate." Kurt hoped that Logan realized that his thanks extended to more than the sweet drink.
Logan nodded. "Anytime."
Mark stole a glance over to where Kurt and Lance were sitting cozily on his couch. Their eyes were glued to the screen as their fingers deftly scampered across the controllers in their hands.
"Fucking Christ, come on!" Lance growled, causing Mark to focus back on the game. On the screen, Princess Peach wielded a heavy hammer and was closing in on a desperate Bowser. Jumping too late, Bowser became a mere twinkle in the sky as he was smashed out of the arena.
"That is such a bullshit item."
"All's fair in war and video games," Kurt countered back with a slight smirk.
"It is so on."
Mark watched as Kurt and Lance went right back at it in the game, basically ignoring his character - a sharp reflection to what had been happening all week. During lunch, he'd scarcely seen hide or tail of Kurt or Lance; and during gymnastics practice, they'd seem insulated in their own bubble. It was part of the reason why he'd asked them to come over to his place. He didn't want them to continue excluding him, but obviously it hadn't worked.
He put his controller down next to the bowl of popcorn and gummy bears on the coffee table. He rested his elbows on his knees and watched as his character stood forlornly in the center of the arena. Neither Lance nor Kurt seemed to notice.
Grabbing his empty can of Coke, he crushed it, releasing some of his pent up frustration. Throwing it next to his abandoned remote, he debated what to do next. Normally, he'd just tell it straight, but this was different. True, he thought Lance and Kurt were accepting of his brusque manner, but they weren't just anybody now. They were friends.
Getting up from his chair, Mark waffled for a second before heading towards the door. "Hey, I'm gonna go grab another Coke. Anyone want anything?"
"I'm good," came Kurt's distracted reply. Lance didn't bother saying anything.
Annoyed and a bit pissed, Mark changed his mind. This was stupid letting it fester. His parents did always say to be honest with his feelings, and if they weren't accepting then screw them. With that thought, he resolutely walked over to the TV and stood right in front of it.
"Hey, Mark –"
"What the hell! Move out of the way!"
Mark ignored the protests and blurted out exactly what he'd been thinking. "I don't like you two ignoring me."
Kurt gaped at him but Lance immediately denied wrongdoing.
"What the hell are you talking about? We're here with you right now. In your house! Now get out of the way."
"Yeah, now you're in my house, ignoring me and playing with just each other."
Lance tramped down on any dirty images that inspired. Before he or Kurt could respond, Mark continued.
"All week, you two've been hanging out, having lunch, barely exchanging words with me."
"Not all week. Just since Wednesday," Lance grumbled, which earned him a sharp elbow from Kurt.
Either not listening to or ignoring Lance, Mark continued on, "Forgetting that, oh yeah, it was me that helped you guys become friends. Now I'm just- "
"-chopped liver," Kurt finished.
Mark stared at him an uncomfortable second.
Looking a little sheepish at his interjection, he apologized. "Sorry, just kind of came out."
"If I'm chopped liver, then you two are like mac and cheese. And now I'm continuing on your stupid food metaphor. But you get my point. Tell me what's going on then. It's either something with me or with you guys. Either way, tell me."
"Don't get your panties in such a twist," Lance said as he rolled his eyes. "There is nothing going on."
Temper rising at the brush off, Mark countered, "Yeah? So nothing is why you two've been all buddy-buddy? Are you two dating?"
Kurt blushed to the tips of his ears while Lance sprang to his feet.
"What! No! Of course not! That's fucking ridiculous!" Lance yelled, covering his embarrassment with anger.
Mark stepped back, not expecting such a strong reaction from Lance. Not wanting to turn their confrontation physical, he took a deep breath, giving himself and Lance a second to simmer down. Lance sank back down on the couch, and Mark took up his cue and settled down into his recliner. "Ok, fine. Then what is it?"
There was a long pause where Kurt kept his head down and fidgeted with his controller while Lance surreptitiously threw solemn looks his way. Mark was at a loss at how to interpret the situation.
Finally, Kurt broke the silence. "I'm sorry. It's my fault."
"No, it's not," Lance said so firmly and resolutely, Mark felt like he had missed something here.
"No, it is. I've been avoiding you." Kurt looked at Mark before staring down again at his hands. "Well not just you but most people…."
When Kurt didn't finish, Mark slightly prodded, "Any reason why?"
Kurt took a shaky breath. He knew it was on him. It was the same reason he'd avoided Lance at the beginning of the week. He was worried that somehow everyone would be able to tell what he'd let Trieg do.
But Lance hadn't treated him any different, and he knew everything. Most everything. Lance's support was nice. Maybe Logan was right -he should open up to his friends. He felt guilty enough causing this rift with Mark. He didn't have to tell him everything. A partial truth. That'd be good enough.
"It's up to you," Lance directed to Kurt.
Kurt looked down and silence settled over them. Mark suddenly felt guilty. Obviously, whatever it was, was difficult for Kurt to speak about.
"Hey, you don't have to tell me, okay? Just, you know, don't ignore me."
"No," Kurt said. "I think. I think I want to tell you." With Lance there and Logan's reassurances, Kurt felt he could handle it. At least for what he was willing to tell. Besides, it could be like a dry run before he told Scott and the others.
Gathering up his courage, Kurt began. "It's about Trieg."
Mark immediately wanted to interject with questions but his parents had advised before that sometimes the best approach was to listen first.
"Last Tuesday, he…." Kurt paused a second.
"Look. You don't have to tell me any details, ok? I understand."
"No, it's okay. Nothing much happened anyway. Trieg drugged my water but luckily Lance came in and saw before Trieg did anything."
Shock coursed through Mark, causing him to miss Lance's side eye to Kurt.
"I know it wasn't anything too terrible, but it just kind of freaked me out," Kurt rushed out, trying to smooth over the severity of the incident.
"Are you kidding? Drugged? Like drug drugged? So you were unconscious or something?"
"Sort of." Kurt twisted the cord tight around his fingers while taking a shaky breath. "I-I couldn't move well and the room was all spinny."
"That's awful. What the hell is wrong with that dickbag? Fucking Christ. Who does that? And to a student? You're what, like, half his age." Mark felt like punching something. Preferably Trieg, but instead he settled on kicking the coffee table, causing the drinks to precariously teeter but luckily not spill. "Shit. I knew I didn't like him. I should've punched him when I had the chance. If he was still at school, he'd be one sorry son of a bitch." Putting two-in-two together in the midst of his tirade, Mark whirled back to Kurt. "Is this why he got the ax?" Kurt's nod barely registered in Mark's mind as he continued on. "I just can't believe it. What was he gonna do? No, I don't want to know. It must've been terrible. Shit, you know, I didn't ask, how are you doing?"
Seeing the surprised looks on Kurt's and Lance's faces, Mark put a cap on his anger. "Sorry. Just pissed off."
"The Professor, the one who runs the boarding house I'm at, he found out and took care of Trieg."
"Good riddance. But you didn't answer my question. How're you holding up?"
Kurt shrugged. "I'm okay. Glad he's gone."
"I guess that's why you missed most of last week?"
Kurt nodded in response.
Mark desperately wanted to press on with his questions, but saw that Kurt was looking a little pale. He obviously wasn't ready to open up about it. Dropping the subject, he came over and sat on the couch next to him. "I'm sorry about what happened and I'm sorry I've been such an ass."
"No, it's okay. You didn't know. And I'm sorry we ignored you and all."
"Yeah," Lance agreed, figuring it was what he was supposed to say.
"Let's just… move on, ja?" Kurt gestured towards the TV and at the characters waiting impatiently to beat the crap out of each other.
Though Mark was still adjusting to the news, he figured that Kurt and Lance had probably gone through this enough. Nodding, Mark picked up his controller.
"Hey, where's my controller?" Lance asked as he stood up to search underneath him.
Kurt and Mark both shrugged in unison before exchanging a sly look.
"For being such an honorable friend, I'll let you have this kill," Kurt said as he maneuvered Peach to the other side of the screen.
"And I'll gladly take it."
"What? No! Stop! This isn't fair!" Lance was throwing the pillows of the couch, trying to shove Kurt aside to look under where he was sitting.
"So long, Bowser."
"Auf Wiedersehen!"
"Come on!" By now, Lance was crawling on all fours, looking under the couch. "You guys are going to regret when I find – aha! There." Flattening himself out, Lance stretched out and nabbed the controller. "Now there will be blood!"
"I drink your milkshake!"*
"Oh, look. There goes Bowser again. Like a diamond in the sky," Kurt sing-songed.
Lance bit out a growl before settling down for payback.
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*Aren't they the optimists? This whole Brotherhood and X-men thing is a pretty big issue, especially as an impediment to a deeper relationship. But we'll see how it goes. I'm sure I'll resolve it… somehow…yes….
*Just pretend that Lance had a wireless Gamecube remote or something.
* A reference to "I drink your milkshake!" from the movie There Will Be Blood. Great movie. Great scene.
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