disclaimer: Guess who owns them? Come on. Guess. (I'll give you a hint: it begins with M and ends with arvel) Guess who doesn't own them? You can do it. (Another hint: it beings with R and ends with enard) I'm poor. I'm making zilch off of this. You know the drill.
author's notes: For all you continuity fans, this comes after "Just Like a Woman." Notes on the German: typical stuff I always use, save for the 'schatz'. It means 'darling' or 'dear'. Thanks: to Ella and Chyld for their awesome beta-ing. To all of my archivers, especially Sascha and Rex. To Yuhri and Zin for supporting me half a world away. And to Gina for spreading the word.
"It's just Thanksgiving, Kurt. You don't need to bring your entire wardrobe, do you?"
Kurt shoved another sweater vest, a nice argyle one, into his already bulging suitcase. "Ja, I do. You know how Ororo is, always changing the weather."
Kitty snorted and sat her one small bag down on the ground. "Jean and everyone will have cooked enough food that we'll all just be stuffed for days and you won't even be able to fit into those I-am- gay-and-I-don't-even-have-to-say-it-because-of-my-outfit-especially- these-tight-Calvin Klein-jeans."
Kurt stopped packing and just stared at her. "Ah, pardon me for ruining the witty repartee, Katzchen, but how long have you been thinking up that particular phrase?"
"Some of us are able to improvise, you know. Now will you please finish packing? And don't even think about taking all of your hair products. I swear, now that you're out, you're incorrigibly gay."
"I think you just pointed that out in your last tirade," Kurt said levelly before cracking a grin. "But, really, dahling, you must admit I have the most wonderful fashion sense and my hair...honey, it's just fabulous." He swiped a hand through his blue locks and posed with the other hand on his hip.
Kitty burst out laughing. "Oh, Kurt, you're too much!"
"Ja, I know. Now, I just need to pack a few more things. Shoo, Katzchen, and give a lady some room."
"The flaming act is going to get old real quick, Miss Wagner. If you start wearing make-up, I'm going to pretend I don't know you."
Kurt perked up and snapped his fingers. "Ach, I knew I was forgetting something. Mascara!"
With a groan, Kitty phased out of the room.
Two Hours Later
With a final heave and an "oof", Pete shoved the last bag into the hoverjet. As soon as he caught his breath, he turned on Kurt with a string of curses. "Oh, bloody hell Wagner, why didn't you just go ahead and pack a fuckin' set of weights while you were at it?"
Kurt, who was sitting on top of the jet filing his nails, gave Pete a cool look. "I did offer to help, if you remember. You're the one who wanted to play macho."
"Well, you sure as hell couldn't pull that off, eh, bloke?"
"Pete..." Kitty's icy voice echoed through the room.
Wisdom's shoulders sank. "Bloody, flamin' hell..."
Kitty brushed past him with a look of fond annoyance. "You better behave yourself or I'm not bringing you back anything."
"You tease him all the fucking time, I don't see--"
A blue tail whapped against his head, shutting him up. Kurt was inside the plane before Pete could properly react.
Kitty wiped away a smirk, then patted Pete's cheek. "Behave. I'm allowed to tease him." With that, she turned and climbed into the pilot's seat.
Wisdom backed up, still cursing, as they took off. Then, brushing a few blue strands from his shoulder, he sighed, "Fucker should have pink hair. Blue's too serious for 'im."
The ground beneath them receded further away, tiny houses and buses becoming mere dots before fading into a mass of blue ocean. The choppy cuts of waves were visible as only flashes of white lines. The jet skimmed through a lighter blue expanse, slicing through wisps of clouds, and a blue face pressed to the window and drank it all in.
Kurt felt his heart do strange lurches, acrobatic flips that had nothing to do with any turbulence they were hitting. He was actually going back. After over a month, it was finally time. To go back to him. The ocean beneath them caught golden patches of sun and glittered faintly, hopefully, full of some distant import. His heart leapt again before crashing back down. Would it go well?
Was Logan as nervous as he was?
"If you don't stop pacing," Jean grated out. "I'm going to dump this apple pie on your fucking head."
Logan, who'd been pacing the kitchen in tight little circles, immediately stopped and gave her a shocked look. "Didn't know you had such a potty mouth, Jeanie," he finally smirked.
She waggled a batter-coated spoon menacingly at him. "Remember, I can hold you still if I feel like hitting you."
With a rumbly sigh, the short man sank into a chair. "Maybe you should do it anyway. I feel like I'm gonna shake myself out of my fuckin' skin."
A sympathetic look crossed Jean's face. "It won't be too much longer, Logan. They could be here at any moment."
Suddenly, the intercom crackled and Jubilee's voice entered the kitchen, "J-Lee to J-G, come in J-G."
"I'm never letting you listen to Jennifer Lopez again," Jean hissed in annoyance.
"It ain't my fault she's so fucking hot!"
"Er..." the intercom crackled, mostly covering Logan's sudden burst of laughter. "Did I say that out loud? Oops. Anyway...whatever. You ruined my announcement. Let's try this again." Jubilee cleared her throat and began again, in an important sounding voice. "J-Lee to J- G. Come in J-G."
"This is J-G," Jean sighed loudly, each word sounding like it pained her.
"We have coordinates for K-W, over. The plane is arriving in t-minus- ..." a long pause, then a muffled curse, "Oh, like thirty minutes or something. Copy, J-G?"
"We hear you loud and clear. J-G out." Jean shut down the com-link before Jubilee could continue. "I swear, she gets more ridiculous every day. And since when did she have a crush on that horrid Jennifer Lopez? But, there, he'll be here in thirty minutes, Logan." She paused, waiting for an answer. "Logan?" Again, nothing. She turned to find only an empty chair.
As soon as the initials bounced into the air, Logan was up and out of the kitchen. He made it to the hanger bay in record time. And stopped. He still had thirty minutes to wait.
His heart was hammering wildly, the sheer speed of the beats inexplicable from just a short run. He caught a few quick gulps of air, but they did little to calm him. He bent, hands on knees, to take in more air. His heart kept racing.
For a moment, standing there in the still, metallic quiet of the empty room, he thought it would beat its way out of his chest. And he would die before getting to see him again.
By the time the hoverjet arrived, Logan had paced every inch of the hanger bay. Six times. He heard the woosh of the approaching aircraft even before the outer doors opened. Ororo entered just as the jet was roaring to a landing.
Logan didn't even notice her.
Kitty stepped out first and ran to Ororo.
"Oh, Kitten, it's really been too long," the tall woman enthused, holding her tightly.
Kitty giggled. "It's only been like a month, Ororo."
"Ach, but a month in our line of work can seem like ages," a Germanic voice replied. Kurt appeared from the other side of the plane.
At that moment, Logan could have drunk him in. His hair, slightly tussled, his eyes, wider than normal in barely contained nervousness. Instead, he gave him a friendly clout on the shoulder and mock-growled, "Let's get the bags unloaded."
Kurt's shoulder curled up into that slight touch and he blushed. "Ah, well, we might need some help..." He couldn't tear his eyes off of Logan, barely managing to greet Ororo with some semblance of coherence.
Logan snorted and jiggled the luggage hatch open. "I think I can manage some bags, Kurt." He had to jump out of the way to avoid getting flattened by the pile that tumbled out.
"Oh, dear." Ororo stared at the pile. "Are those yours, Kitty?"
Kitty rolled her eyes. "Just the little blue one. The rest.." she turned and gave Kurt an accusing stare.
He blushed more, shrugged his shoulders. "Well...a man has to be prepared, nein?"
Logan kicked the bag closest to him. "Shit, we're going to need everyone in the mansion to move this stuff."
Kurt scowled slightly. "That, I think, is something of an over- exaggeration. If we all just grab a few..."
Somehow, they managed to get all of the bags to Kurt's room. Logan was carrying most of them. With a grunt, he tossed them down in one corner as Kitty and Ororo and Kurt all sat their loads down a bit more sedately.
"I believe I'm going to get something cool to drink and head outside after that workout," Ororo started, eyeing Kitty to see how she liked the idea.
Kitty beamed. "Sounds wonderful. You coming Kurt? Logan?"
Kurt looked up from where he'd collapsed on the bed. He blinked as if confused. "Coming?"
"Oh. Ah...nein. I think I'll rest in here. Danke."
Kitty shrugged. "Suit yourself. Logan?"
Logan grunted and rubbed at a shoulder. "Nah, I'll just grab a beer and crash in front of the TV, darlin'. You two have fun."
"Okay. See you later!" Kitty grabbed Ororo's hand and they left, giggling like two schoolgirls.
The door clanked shut. Silence. Kurt sat up and stared after them. "I'm glad Kitty came," he finally said, lamely. "She really misses seeing Ororo."
He looked up. Logan was watching him quietly, still rubbing his shoulder. "I'm sorry about all the bags, l..."
His voice trailed off as Logan moved towards him. He reached out a hand, fingered a lock of Kurt's hair without saying a word.
"You cut it, babe," the gravely voice sounded pleased. "Looks good."
"It was getting long..." Kurt trailed off again as the hand moved down from his hair to trace his jaw-line.
Logan leaned down, rubbing his cheek against Kurt's in a very animalistic gesture. Then, as if to accentuate the previous caress, he dipped his head to inhale the skin at the other man's collarbone.
Kurt shuddered, opened his mouth to say something more, then almost bit his tongue when Logan's own rough tongue flicked over the pulse in his throat. He shuddered.
Logan laughed, a rough, full sound, before his mouth continued exploring Kurt's neck, nuzzling in to get the skin just beneath the shirt. "I missed you," he admitted during a brief pause.
Kurt finally regained some of his sense, enough to scoot back on the bed. Logan moved after him, fluidly, pressing the taller man down and straddling him. He nipped at Kurt's chin and chuckled. "Cat's got your tongue again."
Kurt grinned at that, pointed teeth so white against his dark fur. One three-fingered hand reached up to press at the nape of Logan's neck. "Why don't you get it, instead, liebling?"
Logan didn't seem to need any more encouragement. He pressed his lips against Kurt's, eager and rough.
The rest was instinct.
A squirm here, a gasp there, a tongue moving to tease a dark, blue bellybutton, pointed teeth cutting fading impressions into a tan shoulder.
The wriggle of hips, a sharp moan, another gasp, a muffled scream.
One last thrust.
A tangle of limbs.
Kurt shivered. There was something cold pressed to his stomach. Something cold and wet. He cracked open a yellow eye. Blinked. Stretched catlike before muffling, "Why is there a beer on my stomach?"
"'Cause I wanted to wake you up."
The cold, wet object left. Kurt stretched again, thankfully, opening both eyes. Logan's back was to him and Kurt scooted closer so that he could toss a lazy arm into the other man's lap.
"You were out cold, so I got something to drink," Logan explained, letting out a rumbly groan as Kurt's hand groped around. "That ain't yer beer, babe."
Kurt grinned impishly, nipped lightly at the curve of Logan's back. His hand continued to move and he replied lazily, "Ach, well, I thought it was too warm. " He squirmed upright so that his chest was pressed against the broad back, his hand continuing it's deft movements. He bit down hard enough on Logan's earlobe to elicit a second, deeper moan. "I want my beer," he purred silkily, removing his hand.
A growl, almost dangerous, rose from Logan's throat, "After."
"After what?" Kurt flicked his tongue across the earlobe, his hand straying back to its original task. A brush of thumb across the stiffened head made Logan's hips thrust appreciatively.
"Kurt..." A second growl, this one decidedly dangerous. Meaning one thing: don't stop.
In the kitchen, Jean was running interference.
"Kitty, hand me that potholder, will you?"
Kitty did as she was told, but gave the other woman a quizzical look. "Did you lose your TK again, Jean?"
Jean waved that away. "Oh, no, nothing like that. I just wanted you to feel useful." Turning away to poke at the sweet potato casserole (Rogue's one requested dish), she rolled her eyes and sent a mental dagger at Logan.
Kitty went back to sitting on the counter, swinging her legs. "Okay. What else do you need? I was thinking of going and checking on Kurt...he's been resting for such a long time and he was acting strange this morning."
Jean, who'd just taken a drink of water, started coughing franticly. "No, no," she croaked out, between gasps for breath. "Let him rest. I'm sure we'll..." cough "be up late!"
Kitty gave her another, slightly concerned, look. "Ah, sure Jean. Whatever you say."
At that moment, Logan loped into the kitchen, wearing nothing but tight, low-riding jeans. His hair was tussled, lips curved in a smug smile. He whistled his way to the fridge and pulled out two beers. Then, he peeked over Jean's shoulder and sniffed. "Mmm...when's dinner gonna be ready? I'm starved."
Jean batted him away with a look of barely contained annoyance. "At least another hour. Go away, Logan."
"Didn't you come down for beer thirty minutes ago, Logan?" Kitty queried from her counter perch.
"Oh, y'know what they say, kid." He ruffled her hair as he popped open a beer. "Can't drink just one."
She shrugged his hand off, muttering something about 'don't call me kid' before grinning sheepishly. "So...have you seen Kurt?"
Logan cocked his head contemplatively. "Kurt? Fuzzy blue guy? With a tail? Queer as all hell?"
Jean choked again, but Kitty just nodded, grinning more. "Yeah, that one."
A long swig was taken of the beer before Logan replied, "Oh, he's out cold. Must have had a rough morning." With that, he sauntered back out of the kitchen.
Jean ground her teeth. He reeked of sex. Why couldn't she get that much sex? Why did all the gay men in the mansion have constant, acrobatic, tantric sex while she had to bake pumpkin pies? It wasn't fair! I hate you she arrowed at him mentally, growling when his laughter echoed in her brain.
I liked you better when you were under-sexed and miserable this morning! she yelled back.
Jean turned to Kitty, scowling. "What?" she snapped.
The younger woman blinked again, then pointed past her at the stove. Jean turned and saw a pot of green beans boiling over. She cursed loudly and turned the burner down.
Kitty was already edging away. "I'll just send Ororo to help you, okay? See you at dinner..." then she dashed off, uncertain of the cause of Jean's dangerous mood, but not wanting to brave it any further.
Besides, she wanted to wake Kurt up.
Jean picked up on that at least. Gritting her teeth, she mentally poked Logan again. You might want to stop having sex for, oh, all of ten minutes. Kitty's coming up there.
It took Logan a full minute to reply. Or grunt.
"They can't possibly be having sex again," Jean moaned, banging her forehead into a cabinet.
Ororo's soft, questioning voice filtered through her annoyance. Still, Jean couldn't help but snap, "Everyone but me."
Ororo blinked, edging back out of the kitchen. "Ah, I see. Should I send Scott in?"
She disappeared seconds before a pot lid slammed into the kitchen door.
"Kurt? You in here?" Kitty stared around the empty room, making a disapproving face at the unruly tangle of bedclothes. Noting an empty beer bottle on the side table, she sighed. "I guess Logan drug you off somewhere." With a shrug, she left.
A moment later, a blue head appeared in the window. Yellow eyes blinked lazily before the head disappeared again. Kurt swung back onto the roof. "Coast is clear," he said cheerily, poking the denim- covered thigh next to him.
Logan grunted. He was basking in the sun.
Kurt settled next to him, muttering something about how he was the basker before chuckling. "I can't believe we're hiding on the roof."
"Either that or the closet. You're the one who doesn't want to tell her yet." Logan opened one eye to peek at Kurt. "But that's your lookout. Kitty'll probably figure it out soon enough. She ain't stupid."
Kurt hmpfed, curling closer to Logan and running blue fingers across a bare chest. "Well, I don't see how she'll figure it out if we're on the roof..."
Logan rumbled happily, opening his other eye. "Unless we fall off..." He grabbed Kurt's arm and pulled the other man on top of him.
"Then we won't fall off, schatz." Kurt lowered his head to kiss Logan.
And almost did fall off when an annoyed voice exploded in his head, If you two even think about having sex on the roof, I will come up there and kill you both myself!
Kurt yelped and rolled to one side, rubbing his head. "Mein Gott, Jean!" Then, he blanched. "Oh...mein...Gott. Jean! She knows!"
Logan, scowling and rubbing his head as well, gave Kurt a blank look. "Yeah, of course she does, didn't I...oh, I didn't. Jeanie and Jubilee both know. That's how I knew Kitty was coming."
Kurt stared at him in shock. "How long have they known?!!"
"About two weeks now, I guess..." Logan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Yeah, two weeks." Noticing Kurt's accusatory glance, he held up his hands. "I'm sorry! I forgot to mention it! They're both cool with it, Kurt, really they are."
Kurt frowned, dubious. "If they're so 'cool with it' then why is Jean trying to fry our brains?"
"She's just pissy she ain't gettin' any."
I heard that, Jean hissed.
Kurt visibly cringed.
Now get your asses down here and help set the table before I tell Kitty exactly what you're doing. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to haul you down.
"Pardon me for saying this, but Jean gets really bitchy right before Thanksgiving. And she seems to enjoy blackmail." A disgruntled Kurt slipped off the roof, ignoring the next nasty barb from the telepath.
Logan grumbled, but stayed where he was, trying to soak up a second more of sun.
Logan! echoed in his head even as "Logan!" was shouted from below.
He growled. Both of them at once. What had he done to deserve this?
"Sorry about the plate, darlin'," Logan said again as he swept the china shards into a dustpan. Kurt had magically disappeared to help Kitty arrange the table.
"You might not have dropped it if you hadn't been trying to shove your tongue down his throat when she wasn't looking," Jean snapped back. "Can you start acting serious and gruff again or are you just going to keep spiraling down into this pool of sugary sweetness? For all I know, the 'new, improved and hopelessly in love' Logan will be handing out blowjobs at dinner."
"What do blowjobs have to do with sweetness?" Logan grunted. "And whoever said anything about hopelessly in love. That's th' Cajun and th' Popsicle."
"You are just as bad as them. No, you're worse. At least Remy has always been dashingly charming and Bobby has always been innocent and sweet. Next thing I know, you'll be plucking daisies and skipping around the house, and then I'll know that I'm really in hell and not just dreaming it. Now take this out to the table and don't touch him!" Jean shoved a green bean casserole into Logan's hands, ignoring his second grunt.
When he reached the dining room, he plopped it down on the table with a growl.
Kurt arched an eyebrow at him.
"Yer right. Jeannie really can be a bitch this close to Thanksgiving," was all Logan offered in reply.
Pre-Thanksgiving at the mansion was actually a more important event than the traditional turkey feast. Granted, they had much of the same fare, but it was a smaller get together, reserved for residents and only the closest of friends.
Which was a massive undertaking in and of itself.
Still, Jean (and her grumbling helpers) had managed to pull off yet another meal and everyone was crowded around the dining table.
"It warms my heart to see everyone here like this," Charles intoned from the head of the table. "I know the years are not always kind to us, but this night is always a time to relax and enjoy good company."
"Before the mass assembled teams descend on us like invading armies," Jean quipped from the Professor's left side, next to Scott. She'd apparently regained some of her good mood. Of course, she and Scott had disappeared for a bit just before dinner was served...
"And we engage them on the field of battle," Hank piped in, obviously determined to keep his team's winning streak going in the annual Battle of Bloody Marsh football tournament.
"But let's try not to have any broken noses this year," Charles sighed, exchanging rueful grins with the furry doctor. He extended his hand to Scott on the left and Ororo on the right. The chain of hands continued around the table. "Now, if we may..."
Giving thanks. An unbreakable tradition woven through with myriad beliefs, myriad cultures, each voice blessing one deity or a multitude, some universal something, or just offering up words to dear ones gone. From short to long, the statements continued around the table. Logan managed something short and sweet before the chain ended at Kurt.
And stopped. The man who may have had the strongest beliefs among them was silent.
A few rustles started around the table. A cough. Still silence. Unbeknownst to anyone, Logan and Kitty each squeezed one of Kurt's hands at the same time.
Finally, Kurt coughed as well. His words came out very softly. "And, danke mein Herr for the love you have blessed us each with. There is no greater gift than that. And my gift is sitting here next to me. And he is a good man. A good man."
A few startled coughs. A few cracked eyes. Kurt kept his own tightly shut before finally opening them to meet various stares: surprised, confused, jubilant. The last being Jubilee and Monet who, for once, was smiling.
"Pass the beans, Rogue," Jubilee chirped out.
It didn't break the general silence.
Logan spooned a forkful of potatoes onto his plate, plainly refusing to meet anyone's glance.
Jean telepathically reminded Scott to close his mouth.
Bobby looked like he wanted to start crying.
Kitty was digging holes in the tablecloth.
Finally, with an exasperated sigh, Logan clanked his fork down and turned to Kurt and kissed him soundly on the lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss, per se, but it was certainly tender. Turning back to the assembled group, he growled out, "There. That is what he meant. Now would you all start eatin' and mind your fucking business?"
"Yo, Rogue, pass the beans!" Jubilee called louder. And almost got a face full of them - saved only by a telekinetic catch from Jean.
Kitty, the perpetrator of the thrown casserole, phased from the room. Everyone fell silent again. Then, somebody at the head of the table growled.
All eyes looked at Jean.
She was only glaring at two pairs of eyes: golden and blue. "Get up and do whatever you have to do to get her back here and smiling. You two are not going to ruin my dinner!"
Kurt bamfed away without protest. But Logan glared back balefully.
Until he noticed the casserole that was still hanging in mid air inching its way towards him.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he yelled, slamming his chair to the ground and stomping off.
"Next year, I'd like to give thanks for one peaceful dinner," Charles commented dryly in the ensuing silence.
"Katzchen, please, be sensible!" Kurt wailed as he chased Kitty down the hallway.
"Sensible! Sensible, he says! You didn't tell me you were fucking Logan!" The young woman fumed, refusing to turn to him.
Kurt bamfed to a position just in front of her, recoiling when Kitty phased straight through him. A desperate attempt to grab her arm resulted in only a handful of air. "Kitty!" he pleaded.
She stopped and turned on him, practically snarling. "It's Logan, Kurt. Logan! He's your best friend. He likes women. He growls and drinks malt liquor and reads Penthouse. There is no possible way you and he...it's not possible!"
Faced with such anger, Kurt kept his voice level. "Anything is possible, Katzchen. Surely you should know that."
"No. It's not! You're gay and he's straight and there's no meeting in the middle. It's just ridiculous. You...you just think it's something else. I mean, I'm sure he's good in bed, but it's just sex. Or maybe it's just some big game and he's pretending and I love Logan, but he must just be trying it out to see if he likes it and there's no way it's going to last and...Kurt, you're just going to get hurt!" she railed back at him, hands balling into fists.
"If you were a man, I'd take you down for those words," a throaty voice growled as Logan came around the corner towards them, blue eyes smoldering.
"Go ahead! Maybe it'll wake me up from this terrible dream!" Kitty snapped back. "And then everything will be normal and you two won't have five billion more maniacs out to kill you just because of who you love. I mean, isn't it enough to be who we are? Don't enough people want to kill us already?"
"And hiding it will make everything all right?" Kurt gently took one of Kitty's hands in his own. "I am not afraid of such people, Kitty. They would as soon kill me to look at me without even knowing who I choose to sleep with."
"But it's just going to make things worse," she continued to protest despite the softening of her tone, the frightened quiver in her voice.
"I'd carve 'em into bits before they could touch you," Logan asserted, causing Kitty to laugh.
"Oh, Lord, you're already doting over him. How did you two get into this?"
The two men exchanged looks. Kitty caught most of it: the tenderness, the lust, the distinct love that passed between them. She shook her head. "Nevermind. I'm sure I don't want to know. And what good will arguing about it do? Logan, you're as stubborn as a mule. And Kurt, you're almost as bad. But, for Christ's sake, is there anything else you two are going to pop on me? Because I don't think I can take much more of this!"
Kurt got a very serious look on his face.
Kitty groaned. "Just tell me already. Please!"
"Well," he sighed. "I'd hoped to wait a bit to break the news, but...I've decided to get a sex change and we're going to start raising a family. You can call me Kurtina from now on."
Logan doubled over laughing and Kitty, whose eyes had widened momentarily, started beating on Kurt's arm.
"Kurtina my ass, you furry devil, you! I should wring your blue neck for that. I should steal all your clothes. I should..." Kitty paused, an evil glint coming to her eyes. "That's it. Your shoes are mine, Wagner!"
And she dashed away from him, phasing as she went.
Logan slumped back into his chair and started eating, only looking up when he felt Jean's eyes burning holes into him. Even then, he stuffed another bite of turkey in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. A swig of water. A clearing of the throat. Then, finally:
"Yer gonna find clothes all over the lawn tomorrow. If that ain't normal for here, I don't know what is."
And with that, he continued eating.