Warnings: Sexual assault, masturbation
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Chapter 10
This was the type of drive that Logan loved best. The hush of the streets amplified the gentle rumble of the car and the dulcet thrushing sound as the tires displaced the snow. The snow decorating the grass and trees was still a radiant white, not long enough on the ground to become discolored to a slushy grey. The only thing that would've made his drive more pleasurable was being on his motorcycle, but it just wasn't conducive for things like groceries or cold weather.
His shopping foray had been necessary – his beer supply had been dangerously low- and it was satisfying to know his cache was ensconced safely in the trunk.
As he pulled up to the mansion, a freshly cleared driveway greeted him with an easy path to the garage. It was a perfect way to end his trip, and he couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment as he pulled the coupe into the garage.
Popping the trunk, he made his way around the back. If anyone else was there, they may have commented on the slight jig in his step. As he lifted his sacks of groceries out of the trunk, he spied several reusable shopping bags lying underneath.
"Well, damn." Nothing he could do now. A setback but not enough to ruin his mood.
Shifting the weight of the grocery bags in his arms, Logan made his way to the kitchen to deposit his goods.
Ororo was already there, brewing herself a pot of tea while a savory smell wafted from the oven.
"You're in a good mood," she commented as Logan dropped the groceries on the counter.
"That your work out there?" Logan asked, referring to the cleared path he had to the garage.
"Figured you might want an easier time getting back in than you did out. How was shopping?" Ororo inquired as she added some tea leaves to a cloud-shaped diffuser.
"Good. Got a few personal supplies."
Ororo eyed the plastic bags. "You know we have reusable bags in the back-"
"I know," Logan grumbled.
The tea kettle's whistle pierced through any further reprimands from Ororo.
"Would you like some tea?" Ororo asked as she took the kettle off the stove and retrieved a delicate tea cup from the cabinet. "It's Egyptian Chamomile."
In response, Logan pulled out a six pack of Brooklyn Winter Ale.
"So I see."
Logan smirked.
"I thought you were homebrewing," Ororo said as she bent down and pulled open the oven. Satisfied by what she saw, she pulled out a tray of golden-brown kolaches.
The smell of the savory bread filled the kitchen. Logan pulled out various items from his bags– pretzels, jerky, cigars – while also following with a keen eye as Ororo moved the kolaches over to a plate. "Not done fermenting yet." As he put away his groceries in his hidden spot high in the cabinets, he took a deep breath. "Those have bacon in them?"
"As well as egg and cheese."
"Trade you?" Logan raised a beer while eyeing one of the piping hot kolaches. "Unless you want to stick with your tea."
"Egyptian Chamomile is very relaxing and calming. I'd recommend at least two dozen cups to you."
"So that's a no to the beer then."
"I didn't say that," Ororo said as she reached for the offered bottle before Logan had a chance to put it up with the rest.
"Thought so." Logan smirked.
"I'll have my tea later." Ororo put her tea diffuser aside. "You're always welcome to a cup."
Logan just nodded as he watched Ororo carefully serve two kolaches on plates and brought them over to the breakfast nook.
They sat in companionable silence as the kolaches cooled, sipping on their beer while looking out the bay window. The grounds were an undisturbed blanket of white, creating a picturesque view that Thomas Kinkade would covet to capture.
It was Logan who uncharacteristically broke the silence. "You know, it's not so bad, talking with the students."
"Did you think it would be?"
Logan shrugged. "Not sure what I expected. It's made me feel almost –"
"Fatherly?"
Logan just grunted at that and took a pull of his beer.
Ororo hid a smile with a sip of her own.
"I think it's somehow managed us to be even closer. We're not just a team. We're beginning to be more of a family."
"Chuck knew what he was on about. Heck, I even got something for Kurt while out."
Ororo raised a questioning brow while Logan retrieved the lone bag left on the counter. Barnes and Nobles was blazoned across its side.
Logan dug out a book and handed it to Ororo.
She read, "'No Fear Shakespeare – The Merchant of Venice: The play plus a translation anyone can understand.'" Ororo looked up from the book, disproval written across her face. "Wouldn't this be cheating?"
"He's still reading it. Shakespeare's original words are still in there. He'll just understand what he's reading."
Ororo grunted a small dissatisfied sound but wordlessly slid the book back to Logan.
"Speaking of, how's he been doing?"
Logan took a second to gather his thoughts. Over the last week, Kurt had seemed to be mostly back to his normal self. He was studying, hanging out with friends and even resumed gymnastics. He had seemingly forgiven the Professor, allowing Chuck to help him with his Trigonometry homework.
Yet, whenever Logan mentioned anything in regards to Trieg or the assault, Kurt just shut down, refusing to talk about it. Logan had stopped trying to bring him up. He figured he first needed to build a foundation of trust – really establish their relationship. And then maybe Kurt would feel comfortable and ready to discuss what happened.
"He's coping," was all Logan responded to Ororo's question. "Actually, I'm gonna go give this to him now so he doesn't have to suffer any more. I'll be right back." Logan picked up the book and headed out. Right when he reached the door, he turned around. "Don't touch my beer."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
XXXXXXXXXXX
After a couple of knocks with no response, Logan slowly creaked the door open, taking a peek inside.
The curtains over the French doors were drawn back, offering a scene of several black-capped chickadees fluttering about the oak tree – knocking off piles of snow as they frolicked amongst the branches. The occupant of the bed was completely unaware of the charming antics occurring right outside his doors.
One arm was thrown dramatically across his face, perhaps shielding him from the crucible that was The Merchant of Venice. Said play was splayed out over his chest, as if it had the power to induce unconsciousness.
Obviously Shakespeare was not as riveting as some have claimed. With a slight toss, the copy of No Fear Shakespeare landed with a soft thud onto Kurt, startling him into wakefulness.
Logan chuckled at Kurt's bedraggled appearance as he shot up in bed. "Was?" came the muzzy question.
Logan's laughter died down as soon as he noticed the trace of tear tracks marring Kurt's face. Kurt must've realized the reason for Logan's abrupt silence as he hastily scrubbed his arm across his face to try and erase any evidence.
"You want to talk about it?"
"No," Kurt replied immediately, brooking no discussion. "What's this?" He asked while picking up the book Logan had tossed.
Logan let Kurt drop it. "For you. Shakespeare on one side, English English on the other."
Kurt laughed at Logan's joke and began to flip through the book. "You're a life saver. I have my final next week and I was sure I was going to fail."
"Well, now you won't."
"Thanks."
Seeing Kurt already pouring over the play, Logan figured he was done with his simple act and would rejoin Ororo and his beer. Before he could execute that thought, Kurt stopped him.
"I-I wanted to get your opinion on something."
Logan was a bit surprised. So far, he was the one who had initiated any conversations. He considered this progress. He walked back into the room and leaned against the door jam. "Go ahead, shoot."
"I was thinking about what you said last week – having Lance over to practice."
Logan was confused for a second before remembering he briefly suggested as such. "Yeah?"
"Well… not just to practice. See, he's kind of worried that our friendship isn't going to last. Like it's just some fleeting thing. I wanted to have him over to show him that we're really friends. And I thought, hey if I invite him here, then maybe it'll prove that I want to be friends cause you know, and then it'd also be like saying, you're Brotherhood but that's okay. What do you think?"
Amazingly, Logan was able to follow Kurt's logic. Thinking back to that night. How Lance had carried Kurt back to the mansion. How worried he was about Kurt. Before, Logan would've never thought Lance had it in him to spare a thought to others.
"I think you should invite him. You're a good influence on him. Heck, you might even convince him to give up the Brotherhood."
"That's what the Professor said."
"You already asked him?"
"Yeah, just to make sure it was okay, but I wanted to see what you think too."
A warmth spread through Logan's chest at that declaration. Kurt must've warmed up enough to him to quest out his opinion. He was sure these talks would be difficult and painful, but it was actually pretty nice to really establish a relationship with the students outside of fighting. Besides, it's not like he was getting any older. Perhaps, in a few years, they'd be old enough to forge real friendships together and not just teacher-student.
"But I'm not friends with him to make him become an X-men. It'd be nice and all, but I really do like him."
Logan smiled at Kurt's earnestness. "I know. It's just something the Professor and I wouldn't mind seeing."
"Do you think any of the others will have a problem with him here? Like Kitty?"
"Maybe. She still doesn't know that you and Lance are friends?"
Kurt sheepishly grinned. "Um, not exactly."
Logan wasn't surprised. It was typical of Kurt to avoid confrontation until things came to a head. "Just tell her before Lance comes over."
"Ja. Ok."
"Alright, I'll let you get –"
"One other thing…."
Now this did surprise Logan. "You're just full of questions."
"Well. It's been bothering me. How you said that it's important to share things that're painful and I was wondering..." Kurt picked at the fuzz on his blanket before continuing, "do you have anyone to talk to?"
Of course Kurt picked up on his own wistful reflections during their last talk. And of course, it was like Kurt to be worried about others first – it was just in his nature. "Elf, I gotta hand it to you. Somehow you're always looking out for everyone else but yourself. Maybe I'll tell you someday, but right now, just concentrate on yourself. I got Chuck, Ororo, and Hank for now."
Kurt nodded before looking down to idly flip through the book Logan had given him.
Worried that he seemed to be rebuking him, which was not what Logan intended at all, he walked over to Kurt before placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about me, alright?" Figuring that was enough reassurance, Logan took a step back. "Now, any other burning questions?"
"Not now, but I can come up with a list later."
Logan smirked. "Try to limit it to yes or no questions."
"Will do," Kurt returned with a slight laugh.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Lance once again stood before the wooden doors leading into the lavish mansion. It was kinda crazy, him being here within a few weeks, though for very different reasons. Last time, he had no time to think but just act to get Kurt the help he needed. Now, the looming doors were daunting, giving him pause on whether he should even knock. Inside was a bastion of do-gooders, ready to fight the likes of him. Doubt clouded his head: Was it really okay for him to be here? What if Kurt really didn't want him here? What if it was just some elaborate setup to prank him? What if Kurt knew about his feelings and was going to mock him in front of the other X-men? Could the Professor read his thoughts? Was he reading his thoughts right now? Maybe the Professor could be his matchmaker?
Before his thoughts could spiral into further outrageous scenarios, Kurt teleported right beside him.
Lance jumped a mile and let lose a high-pitched scream that could unsettle any nearby dogs.
Kurt burst into laughter. "You should've seen your face!"
Lance pushed Kurt. "Not funny. I almost had a heart attack."
"No, it was definitely funny. What were you doing anyway? Doors open by pushing, not by staring. See?" Kurt demonstrated to Lance how to open the door.
"I thought knocking first might be polite."
"Since when are you polite?"
"Since never," Lance responded as he slightly pushed Kurt against the wall in the entryway. He smirked a challenge at Kurt.
Kurt rolled his eyes and said, "So mature," before leading the way. "This way to the kitchen. I figured we could grab some snacks first."
Lance sauntered past. "I know where it –" He was cut off as he tripped over Kurt's timely placed foot.
"Now who's mature!" Lance returned by grabbing Kurt's shoulders and shoving him against the wall. He tried not to think about their position as Kurt stomped on his foot.
Kurt twisted out of his hold and shoved him with his shoulder. "Last one to the kitchen is a rotten leg."
"Don't you mean egg?" Lance shouted before reaching out to grab Kurt's shirt before he could gain any more on him.
They horseplayed in the hallway, playfully pushing and shoving, neither making much progress to the kitchen, neither of them caring. One push pressed Lance right against a hallway claw-footed table, upsetting a decorative vase. It teetered for a second before plummeting towards the floor.
Kurt quickly dove, making a saving catch.
"Mein gott that was close." Sharing a relieved sigh with Lance, he cradled the vase in his lap.
"Kurt? What're you doing?" Scott was standing right over Kurt in the threshold of the kitchen. A big silver, bowl of popcorn obscured part of his face from Kurt's position, but the raised eyebrows were enough to convey Scott's confusion.
"Saving a vase. What does it look like he's doing?"
"L-Lance?" Scott almost dropped the bowl of popcorn he was carrying.
Lance grinned, all teeth. "Yeah, that's me."
Scott stared at him before moving his gaze to Kurt then back to him. "Wh-wh?"
"Cat got your tongue?" Lance gloated at the discomfort painted across Scott's face until a sharp pain in his foot caught his attention. "Ow, man."
"Stop being a jerk," Kurt said as he placed the vase carefully back on the table.
"I'm guessing you didn't tell them I was coming?"
Before Kurt could defend himself, a voice drifted in behind Scott.
"Scott, stop standing in the doorway like a zombie. Aren't we gonna watch…" Kitty trailed off as she peered over Scott's shoulder to see what was blocking his way. Her eyes grew wide as they flickered back and forth between Kurt and Lance like pinballs before settling on Lance. "What're you doing here?"
"I guess that answers my question," Lance mumbled to Kurt.
Kurt laughed uncomfortably at the sudden confrontation. "Ja, sorry. Lance is hanging out with me. We're kind of friends now," he ended in a shrug. Kurt knew he should've told Kitty beforehand like Logan suggested but he just never got around to it. Whenever he was about to confess to their friendship, he'd lose his nerve. What if she didn't approve? He should've just slipped a note under her door: "Hey, Kitty. How's it going? Did you get a haircut? It looks nice. P.S. I'm friends with your ex-boyfriend :)."
"W-what?" It seemed that Scott still hadn't recovered from his initial shock.
"Yeah, that's right. We're friends. Been friends for months now." Lance decided to rub it in a bit. He was the one that Kurt trusted now. He was the one who was there for Kurt. It also didn't hurt to show Kitty that that's right, she was totally out of the picture.
"Kurt? Is that true?" Kitty's ire bulldozed right over any response from Kurt. "Why didn't you say anything? Friends for months? You know he's my ex, right? Like, don't I have the right to know?"
"Well, Ja, I guess."
"You guess?"
"No, I mean, yes. I should've told you, but I was kind of worried how'd you react?" Kurt asked, as if unsure about what he was saying would rile her up or placate.
Kitty huffed out a sigh. "Well, of course I'd react. He's my ex. That's kinda important."
Lance felt a little awkward being talked about while standing right there. He glanced over at Scott who looked just as uncomfortable, shifting the popcorn bowl back and forth in his hands.
"But you've been broken up for over a year. It just kinda happened."
"You still should've told me. He's my ex," Kitty repeated herself as if somehow that would prove her point.
"We're just friends."
"Well, duh, I figured that. With Lance being straight and all."
There was a pause in which several emotions sped through Lance like a careening sixteen-wheeler – a streak of shame that straight possibly wasn't the best label for him, then a lull where it took Lance a second to study the flipside of Kitty's words, leading to his heart stuttering in response as if hit by a live wire of joy, to denial stirred with repression, and finally settling upon anger. Who was Kitty to say whether they could be friends or not. As she kept saying, he's her ex.
"Kitty," Kurt said while shifting from foot to foot and shooting pointed looks to Lance.
"Oh, I, um, I didn't mean. That is…."
Lance had had enough of Kitty repeating herself ad nauseam. Besides, who was she to talk. She broke up with him. "Fucking Christ, Kitty. That's right I'm your damn ex. As in over and done. Where do you come from saying who I get to be friends with?"
"I'm not–"
"Don't be such an uptight - " Lance glanced over to Kurt whose eyes had widened in anticipation to how Lance was going to finish the sentence. All Lance really wanted to do was to continue lashing out. He hated this whirlwind of emotions but he knew completing that thought out loud would cross a line. "Whatever. I don't care. We're still friends with or without your approval. Let's go, Kurt." He shouldered past Scott into the kitchen. With a mumbled "bitch" under his breath, he leaned against the counter and waited for Kurt to finish up with Kitty.*
When Kurt shuffled in, Lance felt an awkward weight settle across his shoulders. He first leaned onto the counter with his elbows and then with one hand cupping his face until finally settling to crossing his arms.
Kurt settled onto a barstool, head in his hands. Lance couldn't meet his gaze, ashamed at his reaction to Kitty and instead stood transfixed on Kurt's tail anxiously swishing behind him.
"Look, I'm sor-"
"Lance, what Kitty-"
Lance couldn't help but slightly smile and snuff at their simultaneous start at a conversation. Feeling the tension ease a bit, Lance walked over and sat on the barstool next to Kurt.
"Hey," Lance said as he knocked elbows with Kurt to get him to look at him. "Ok, look. I'm sorry I yelled at Kitty, but she kinda deserved it."
"No, I should've told her. It's my fault."
"Fine, maybe," Lance conceded. "At least before I came over cause, you know, awkward."
"Ha, Ja."
"You two gonna be ok?" Not that Lance really cared what Kitty thought anymore, but he figured it was important to Kurt.
"I think so. She said I better not teleport away when she busts into my room later since we're not finished talking."
"That's good, I guess."
Kurt shrugged in response.
They sat side-by-side. Both sneaking glances at each other but neither saying anything. Lance tapped a rhythm on the granite countertop while Kurt wrung his hands, until finally Kurt broke the silence.
"So, about what Kitty said, or didn't say, really. But implied. Yeah, I guess implied."
"About you being gay?"
"I guess you didn't miss it." Kurt let out a forced laugh. "What do you… Do you think….Do you, um, care?"
"Nah, man. It's cool. Just don't hit on me or anything like that." Lance immediately wanted to hit his head against the counter as the words came out of his mouth, but instead let out a laugh to try to play it cool.
Kurt rolled his eyes in response. "No problem there."
No problem there? No problem there! What did that mean? Lance's mind raced around that echo. Why was that no problem? Was he not good enough? Was there someone else? Before Lance could stop himself, he blurted out, "What does that mean?"
"Um, it means are you thirsty?"
Lance looked up and saw that he'd been so preoccupied with his thoughts that Kurt was now by the fridge and had obviously asked him a question.
"Uh, yeah, sure."
"Are you okay?"
"What? Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Cause, you know." Kurt shrugged as if that could explain everything. "Are you weirded out or afraid or something?"
Lance could see as much as he was trying to play it cool, so was Kurt. It was probably a pretty vulnerable moment for him. Grinning, Lance did his best to put Kurt at ease. "I'm afraid I might be dying of thirst. Now give me a Coke, dickbag."
Lance caught the Coke that was flung at his head just in time to prevent a giant goose egg. "Hey, watch it!"
"Jerk," Kurt said as he climbed back up on the barstool next to Lance with a bag of gummy bears.
"Well, at least I'm not a rotten egg."
"Was?" Kurt looked totally clueless. Rummaging for a red gummy bear, he waited for Lance to explain.
"Hand me some too," Lance commented. "You know, last to the kitchen is the rotten egg."
"Don't you mean leg?"
Lance took a sip of his Coke while looking sideways at Kurt. Some fizz escaped the rim as he clanked it onto the counter. "No. It's rotten egg. Last one's a rotten egg."
"Ha, was? No, it's not. It's leg. You know, like a zombie leg." Kurt wiggled the gummy bear's leg in his hand before biting it off.
"I like to eat the heads first." Lance proceeded to demonstrate with a white one. "And it's egg, man."
"Dude, are you trying to trick me? It's leg. They say it in the movies all the time."
"Like in what?"
"I dunno. Just in movies." Kurt gestured with his hand as if that could prove his point.
"Well, you heard it wrong. It's egg."
"No, it's leg."
"Egg."
"Leg."
"Who's first language is English here?" Lance gloated, figuring he got Kurt there.
"Then why is it egg?"
Stumped for a second, Lance took a large swallow of Coke before being hit with an idea. "Cause rotten eggs are stinky and gross. Who wants to be a rotten egg? No one."
"You know what's worst than a rotten egg? A rotten leg. It has maggots and probably smells worse than bad egg."
Lance sat dumbfounded, not able to think of a good response.
"So now that we know I'm right, wanna go practice?"
"You're not right and let me finish my Coke."
Kurt just smirked in response, knowing he'd won.
Throwing his Coke in the trash, Lance grumbled about smart alecks and poor winners.
The austere, metal walls of the Danger Room were a sharp contrast to the soft, cushioned blue mats lining the floor and the beckoning apparatuses. The stillness of the Danger Room was at first off-putting, but soon Lance appreciated the solitude. No other teammates to distract them. No reminders of Trieg. Just him and Kurt, practicing and goofing off. They had started off first with all good intentions of getting in some serious practice, but soon their work deteriorated into messing about. Kurt had devised a game where one of them would swing around on the high bar while trying to catch gummy bears in his mouth thrown from the other. Soon heaps of gummy bears littered the mat, forming a colorful battlefield composed of sticky corpses.
"I think we tied. We both caught 4," Kurt said as he picked up a few of the scattered bears and popped one into his mouth.
"You got 4. I got 4 and a half. I caught one in my mouth but it fell out. I think that should count for a half," Lance said as he picked up a bear that had bounced a little further than the rest. It was an orange one. His favorite.
"Gross. Lance germs. I hope I didn't eat it." Kurt looked down at the last gummies he'd picked up, testing to see if any seemed salvia soaked.
"Whatever. It's not like I have herpes. Now move aside. I actually want to practice my routine. Spot me?"
Kurt nodded as he tossed in the last handful of gummy bears he picked up back into the bag and stepped just to the side of the high bar.
The routine went pretty well. A few wobbly maneuvers but a definite improvement. Until the dismount. Lance botched it bad enough that he stumbled right into Kurt, knocking them both down. He landed on top, faces mere inches away.
He couldn't believe it. Did he now have some power where his dreams were actual premonitions? Cause this was almost exactly like his dream oh so many weeks ago. All he needed to do was lean forward and kiss him. The urge was almost overwhelming. He could already imagine the slight, fruity taste of the kiss from the lingering gummy bears. He just needed to close…the…gap.
"Ugh, Lance. You're heavy. Get off."
Lance shot up. Heart pounding. He was going to do it. If Kurt hadn't said anything. He would've….
"I'm not heavy. You're just weak." Lance tried to respond as naturally as he could but he a small quiver still threaded through his voice. Desperate to recover his composure and needing to put some distance between them, he walked over to his water bottle, putting his towel in his lap to try to cover any evidence of his arousal. His mind wouldn't stop picturing how the scenario could've gone differently. How he had imagined before in his dreams.
Weren't you supposed to picture horrifying images of old, naked people in these situations? He just had to think of something… like old, saggy balls. That should do it. Old, saggy balls. Old, saggy balls, Lance repeated the mantra over and over in his head. The accompanying image seemed to be doing the trick.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Balls!" Lance yelled out in surprise. Kurt gave him the strangest look, so in a rush to cover up his mistake, Lance clung on to the first excuse the popped into his head. "I mean. I need to piss. I'll be right back." He hoped that his haste to exit the room would be chalked up to a pressing bladder.
The bathroom was strangely metallic like the rest of the subbasement. Only one small light blue mat and towel broke up the monotony of silver. Lance looked at his distorted reflection on the wall as he pissed into the toilet.
He couldn't deny it any longer. Not to himself at least. It wasn't simply some crush. He genuinely liked Kurt as more than just a friend. He hadn't liked anyone like that. Not since Kitty way last year. And this seemed even different from that. Sure, with both Kitty and Kurt, the attraction is there. But with Kurt, there's something different. Something that Lance couldn't pinpoint down. Today, their times at lunch and at the park – all of it coalesced into this ball of warmth and giddiness that made him feel like a fucking lovesick school girl.
But he just wasn't sure. About liking guys. Liking Kurt.
Drying his hands on the matching towel, Lance brushed the thoughts aside for now. He couldn't deal with them now - not when object of thoughts was waiting right down the hallway. Recomposing himself, Lance stalked back to the Danger Room.
Kurt was sitting on a mat, one foot stretched out in front as he drank from his water bottle. His back was towards the door so he was totally clueless to Lance's reentrance. Seeing a golden opportunity, Lance assumed the ubiquitous sneaking pose and tiptoed over to Kurt. When he was only a few feet from him, he sprung and grabbed him from behind, ready to tackle him to the ground. What he didn't expect was the violent reaction from Kurt. As soon as he made contact, Kurt spun around on the ground, shoving hard at Lance while throwing in a solid kick that hit Lance's shin before scrambling back.
Lance straightened up, rubbing his shin while staring at Kurt. Kurt was breathing heavily; fear danced in his eyes. After several long seconds, Kurt's breathing slowed as he regained control. Lance didn't understand. He wasn't being that sneaky.
"What happened?"
"I thought…" Kurt ran a shaky hand through his hair as he stood up. "I dunno. It felt like…reminded me of….you know."
Lance felt his heart drop. "Sorry. I was just trying to scare you."
Kurt barked out a short laugh. "Yeah. I guess it worked."
"Was it like a flashback?"
Kurt shrugged his shoulders while crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Has anything… have you ever had this happen before?"
"No."
Lance gave him a strange look. It's not like he didn't believe him, but there was something in the way Kurt said no that made Lance think he was omitting part of the answer. He didn't know how to approach the topic, but he didn't want to let the opportunity to talk about it get away. "Is it something else then?"
Kurt stood, staring off at nothing, back slightly turned from Lance. Lance shifted a bit, unsure of what to do, before Kurt turned to face him completely, obviously having reached some conclusion. "It's just that sometimes it's difficult. Like at school. Being in the locker room makes me feel like throwing up."
Lance had noticed that Kurt had set new records at changing after gymnastics. All Lance could respond was, "Oh." He hadn't really thought about the huge sacrifice that Kurt had made in rejoining gymnastics for him. It made him feel guilty for pressuring him. "I'm sorry for asking you to come back to gymnastics. I didn't-"
"No. It's fine. I wanted to. None of it was your fault."
"None of it was your fault either. You know that, right?"
"Ja. But I don't want to talk about it anymore."
Lance didn't believe Kurt for one second, but gave in. He'd already opened up more about the assault than he had in the past few weeks. "You still want to practice?"
"No. Why don't we shower then watch something?"
Lance had to swallow at that. He knew Kurt didn't mean shower, together, in one shower. But damn was this trying Lance's control. "Yeah. Good idea."
And the shower was a good suggestion. Lance leaned his head on his arm resting against the wall. The water streamed in rivulets down his back as his right hand picked up pace. His imagination didn't have to stretch too far. All he had to do was revisit lying down on top of Kurt today and then combine that with him, in the shower. Probably only a few rooms over. Lance grasped himself a little tighter and in a few more furious strokes, shuddered as he reached his climax. He sagged a little bit against the wall, relaxing at the release of his pent up frustration and energy. Washing himself and the wall down thoroughly, now all he had to do was go back out and pretend he didn't just jerk off to his best friend.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Lance couldn't stop wearing a path in the already threadbare carpet. Each pass formed a deeper rut until surely he'd wear straight through the floorboards to the center of the Earth. When he reached the end of his room, he'd stop, kick a pile of dirty laundry to the side and stare at his phone. His finger hovered over Mark's name before he angrily shoved it back into his pocket until he reached the other side of his room, only to repeat the process again.
This wasn't getting him anywhere, and besides, he was being a coward. Mark was his friend, right? He'd understand. And he had his psychologist parents' knowledge to help him out. Get him through this whole mess.
Stopping in the middle of his room, Lance gave a glance towards his door. He could hear the muffled sounds of the TV. Good. No one would be listening in on his conversation. With a resigned sigh, Lance pulled out his phone, brought up the contacts screen and dialed Mark. He flopped backwards onto his bed as he waited for Mark to answer.
"Lance."
"I'm not gay."
There was a pause before Mark answered. "Ooookay. I'm glad you figured that out? Any reason you needed to tell me?"
"I'm not. I've even masturbated to Ms. Applegate."
"TMI, man." Mark made a gagging sound.
"Give me a break. Everyone's gotten their rocks off to her in her short little skirts and low-cut tops. Discipline me harder, Ms. Applegate." Lance slapped his bed sheets and groaned a little just to gross Mark out some more.
"Ugh. Not an image I needed. Keep your school fantasies to yourself."
"But, you see then, right?"
"About you not being gay?"
Lance sat up on his bed and gestured around in emphasis. "Exactly."
"Then why are you telling me?"
"Because, um…." Lance jiggled his leg, trying to work up the nerve to tell Mark all he'd be stressing over.
"It's obvious."
"It is?" Lance couldn't believe it. Was he really that blatant in his feelings?
"Yeah. I'm flattered, but you just can't compare to Shelly."
"Oh shut up, asshole." Lance could practically hear Mark smirking through the phone.
"Then who is it?"
"What do you mean?"
Lance could practically hear Mark roll his eyes. "Well, out of the blue, you're calling to tell me you're not gay, so that means you obviously like some guy."
"What? No, I –"
Mark ignored Lance and continued doling out his observations. "And since you chose to call me and not Kurt, then you probably like –"
"Whoa, no stop." Lance glanced at his door before rolling off his bed and sinking down beside it. The bed formed a barrier between his secrets and the rest of the Brotherhood.
"Lance."
"I just. How can I like a guy? I like girls. I think about girls. I don't really think about guys." Now that was a lie. More like he tried to suppress thinking about guys.
"Do you think about kissing him?"
Lance sighed, scared to answer. He toed a dirty, red sock into one of the larger laundry piles. This was why he called Mark. His blunt questions, straight to the point and his no nonsense answers. Readjusting the phone in his hand, Lance answered, "Yeah."
"Masturbate to him?"
"Seriously?!"
"You described in detail how you masturbate to Ms. Applegate and now you're being all prudish?"
"Fine. Ok, yeah." Before he knew it, Lance was spilling all the little, dirty details from his last session. "I was at… his place, in the shower. God. Do you think he heard me? I think I washed it all down. There was this conditioner there that was pretty slick. Kind of a nutty smell. It made a good lu-"
"No details! The images. They burn!"
"Now who's a prude."
"Whatever. So you like both girls and guys."
"Like both, huh."
"Yeah, like bisexual. You see, the prefix bi means two. Thus you like two sexes – men and women."
"Oh, shut up. I know what bisexual means. I've thought about that before, but I just wanted to be, I dunno, normal."
"What the hell is normal? And who the hell cares about what's normal any way? You didn't seem the type."
Lance cringed at that. Mark was right. He usually was one to go against the status quo just to be contrary. Why now should he care? Lance didn't know what to say because despite all of what Mark said, he still felt that uncomfortable twinging in his chest.
"Look, stop stressing about it. If you want to act on it, then act on it. If you don't, then don't. That simple."
"That simple," Lance repeated. There was still that lingering doubt, but the way Mark said it so plainly somehow put Lance at ease. And in a way, he was right. If he wanted to act on it, then he should. But then, what about Kurt? How would he react? "So, say I did want to act on it. But I didn't know how the other guy-"
"Kurt."
"Fine, Kurt," Lance grumbled. Mark could be so annoying when he knew he was right. "I don't know how he'd react."
"Just do what you'd normally do. Start small. Test the waters."
"Usually, I'd smile, you know like 'hey, baby,' and then they'd smile and blush back. Boom, we like each other."
"This isn't just some random chick you're hooking up with."
Lance leaned back his head against the baseboard of his bed. "No. Why is this so difficult?"
"Cause you're making it so. Just start off by coming over and sitting with us at lunch. How about that?"
Lance sat up. That was a pretty good idea. More than Mark knew. At first, he had avoided sitting over with Kurt because he was ashamed of their friendship. And he didn't want to be teased by the other Brotherhood members. But he couldn't really say he likes Kurt and then refuse to be seen with him. That was pretty shitty. And now Kurt had had him over to the mansion. Had even declared their friendship in front of Kitty and Scott. He should return the favor.
"Alright. I can do that. Monday."
"Good. You ready for Saturday?" And like that, the conversation was dropped. Lance chatted with Mark about the upcoming gymnastics tournament all the while thinking through possible scenarios of the lunch room come Monday.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Kurt had a slight smile on his face as he walked through the large passageways of the stadium. The first half of the tournament had gone swimmingly. Lance was in third place, third place!, right behind Mark on rings. He wasn't doing too shabby himself, with a strong, solid score on the vault that'll probably hold for 1st place and a good showing on the parallel bars that might wind up being 2nd or 3rd. And he still had three apparatuses left, including his best, floor.
And not to mention that not only had Logan come like he promised, Jean and Scott had shown up too, both already finished with their college finals. Kurt couldn't help but wave like a maniac when he spied them earlier while the Bayville Hawks were being introduced. He was now on his way to chat with them for a bit during the break. Maybe relieve Scott of a few of his nachos that he saw him snacking on.
A tight grip encasing his left wrist pulled him from his thoughts while a rough hand curled around his hip prevented him from turning around.
"Keep walking or I show everyone what you really are," growled the voice behind him. The grip tightened around his wrist and the band of his watch, giving credence to the threat.
Kurt nearly froze in fear, strangled on the dread rising from the pit of his stomach to gag in his throat. Somehow he managed to continue to put one foot forward after another. On autopilot when all he wanted to do was run and run and run or crumple into a heap. His heart beat a staccato rhythm, so fast and loud, he was sure the crowd around him could hear it. But no one spared him a glance.
The passing crowd become like moving, grey fog – separating and parting around Trieg and him as he was forced away from the busy center to the outskirts of the passageway. With unforgiving strength, Trieg turned him around and took a menacing step forward, closing the already small gap between them.
Backed against the wall and now face to face with Trieg again, Kurt couldn't help but tremble as nausea rose up his throat.
Trieg's face was a picture of pure anger. A vein pulsed along his temple as the muscles in his arms bulged as they continued to squeeze Kurt's wrist. His pupils swallowed up the iris of his eyes, giving him an edge of insanity.
"I lost my job because of you," Trieg said as he pushed further up against Kurt. Kurt could feel the heat from Trieg's chest and could practically hear the beat of his heart in time with the pulsing of his vein. "You know what I could do? Do you?" Trieg roughly shook Kurt, eliciting a small "no."
"I could rip off your watch right now and reveal you to this whole crowd." The pressure on Kurt's wrist increased. He could feel his bones grinding against each other as he let out a pained whine. "But I'm not. You know why?"
Terrified, Kurt could only shake his head in response. He watched Trieg's face transform – his mouth parting slightly and his eyes flared with lust. A small tremor rippled through Kurt's body as Trieg ran his free hand up underneath his shirt, behind his back and down.
"Cause you're going to come with me and do everything I say. You're going to make it up to me. It's what I deserve. You got it?" Trieg pressed his leg in between Kurt's, as he ran his hand along and underneath the base of Kurt's tail.
Kurt wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but all his mind did was shut down. He let out a small, whispered, "Don't." He could feel the pleasure from Trieg's hand stroking his tail mix in with his panic and terror. He jerked away but Trieg's hold was right.
"Don't think I'd do it?" Trieg moved his hand away from Kurt's tail to the watch, ready to tear it away. Kurt scanned the passing crowd, unsure if he was hoping someone would notice them or not. A few people glanced their way, but no one seemed to suspect anything was wrong.
"So, I'm going to tell you one more time. You're going to make it up to me. Make everything up. Do… you… got… it?"
Kurt could only nod.
As Trieg led him away from the crowd, he mentally called out to Jean, hoping she'd hear while desperately reassuring himself that he at least had one last avenue of escape.
XXXXXXXX
*Sorry, Lance still isn't a nice, PC guy.
Thanks for reading.