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As the Twig is Bent	By : KerwinLS Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Slash - Male/Male > Logan/Kurt Views: 1627 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of this and I don’t make money from writing it, as if you didn’t know that already. I thank all those persons or entities that do own the X-Men for allowing us to play in their universe with their characters.

Chapter List
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Interlude: THE HOUSE

As Logan comes in the door to the suite of rooms we occupy here at the School, he finds me sitting in the chair by the window in our bedroom, a bottle of beer in one hand and an empty bottle already on the windowsill.

“OK, Kurt, what’s goin’ on? I don’t usually see ya drinkin’ this early in the day.”

I glance at the clock beside our bed. “It is 4:36 PM, mein Schatz. That is not so early.”

“Umm,” is the noncommittal response. He comes over, lifts my hand and the bottle together to check the level of the fluid. Half empty. Or half full, if you are an optimist. He leans down next to me, pressing his lips against mine.

When we end the kiss, I make a face and tell him, “You taste like your last cigar.”

“And you taste like your last beer, with a side order of brimstone.”

Nothing unusual about either complaint. We are just sparring with each other, as we often do.

“OK, darlin’, gonna tell me why the beer?”

“Ja. Very simple. I have something to show you from my childhood and I am trying to get in a relaxed mood, since I know it vill not be easy.”

For a moment, he is puzzled. “I thought we were gonna finish our talk about that tonight, Elf. In bed.”

“Ve are. But I vas just unpacking a box of old books I have had sent over from vhere they vere being stored in Germany. I thought I might be able to use some of them in my Intermediate German class next year. In a corner of the box, along vith a few other keepsakes, I found something that had once been very important to me, and I vish now to show it to you.”

Lifting the bottle to my lips, I drink the rest of the beer, set the bottle on the windowsill along with the previous one, and open another from the cardboard carton at my feet. Only then do I stand up, prepared to lead the way into the room I use as my study.

Logan raises an eyebrow, glancing at the remaining beers in the carton on the floor. I nod, so he picks them up and carries them with us, taking one for himself as we go.

“So show me this keepsake that’s so important you have to fortify yourself with three bottles of Löwenbräu before you can deal with it.” He slumps down into the reclining chair in the corner of my study where I do most of my reading, taking several swallows of his beer. Then he nods approvingly at the bottle in his hand. “Good stuff.”

“Danke. Does that mean I have finally convinced you that German beer is better than that horse piss you Americans drink?”

“Uh-huh. Especially if you’re the one paying for it.”

I ignore his jest. From amongst the piles of books scattered around my desk, I pick up a small object and bring it over to him, draping myself bonelessly across his lap. He switches on the bright reading lamp next to the chair, then props me up with one arm behind my shoulders, as I hold my hand out to him. “Here.”

Setting his beer on the floor, he takes the little object into his own large hand, turning it around and examining it quizzically in the light from the lamp. “A little house. Looks pretty old. A corner of the yard is broken off, but somebody seems to have tried to smooth it out and paint it so it’s not so noticeable.”

“Ja. I did that.”

“So what’s the deal?”

I prop my head against his shoulder and the back of the chair and steel myself for what is to come with a long swallow of beer.

“One day vhen I vas about nine years of age, Herr Grüber came over to me carrying the dreaded riding crop with the red braid – and something else,” I begin.

“H – have I been bad, mein Herr? Am I to be punished? Vhat have I done?” I said, my voice growing more despondent with each sentence.

He shook his head. No. I am not to be punished. I released the breath I was holding.

“You’re a big boy now, Kurt, and I’m going to start the next phase of your training. You will find it to be unpleasant at times, so I’m going to give you something that will help you deal with it.”

He held out his hand. I saw a small but detailed model of a house. It was that kind where the first story is brick, in this case painted white, while the second story slightly overhangs the first and is mostly white, but has numerous large timbers at angles, all painted black. I think this style is often called Tudor in this country. The roof was shingled, and a red brick chimney ran up one side of the building. I could see the house only from the front, but it had a bay window protruding from the side that was opposite from the chimney. The little house rested on a section of pale green lawn with several bushes. There was a wooden door with a path leading up to it.

Why would he want to give me such a thing? I dared not even take it from his hand until he indicated I might do so.

“Mein Herr, I do not understand. Vhat am I to do vith this?”

“Over the next couple of days, I want you to study it very closely. Memorize the outside so well that you can see it clearly in your mind, then decide how it looks on the inside. Visualize the rooms, the locations, what it would look like if you were standing inside it.

”But how can I know vhat it looks like on the inside? It has no real inside.”

“You must choose for yourself how you want it to look, in so much detail that you can fix it securely in your mind. Where is the kitchen? The bedrooms? Living room, bathroom? Is there a study? A hallway? Where are the stairs? Which bedroom is yours? Since the entire house belongs to you, you can construct it in whatever way you want it to be.”

“However I vant?”

“Ja. Except there is one thing that must be there: beneath the entire house, there is a basement. This basement is dark, damp, and cold. It is full of dust and dirt, for no one ever goes down there. Rats and mice scurry on the floor, spiders spin their webs in corners and ceilings. Water seeps through the cracks in the walls when it rains. Scary things reach out from the shadows. Strange and frightening noises assault your ears. The stairs that lead down into this basement are old and rotten. They may not hold the weight even of a boy such as yourself.”

“Herr Grüber, I – I do not think I vish to live in a house that has such a terrible basement.”

“You have no choice, mein kleines Dämon-Kind. It is where you will be.”

I averted my eyes and nodded, trembling.

“In time, you will learn to love that basement, for it is the place where you will keep all the things you cannot stand to face in the light of day. If you are afraid, you will push your fear down through that doorway, and let it fall to the bottom of those rickety stairs. Disgust will go there also, along with shame and humiliation. This is where you will send your nightmares, when you awaken from them crying.

“But most of all, when you are hurt, this is where you will put your pain, so you will not feel it so much as it is happening to you. You will imagine it stored down in the far corners of that basement, surrounded by nasty things. You will see the rats gnawing on it, cockroaches scuttling over it. The things that gibber and shriek in the shadows will tear at it, until it’s all gone, and all that’s left is you, tucked calmly and safely in your warm bed in your own cozy bedroom.”

“But vhy vill I have to do that?”

“You will not have to do it, Kurt.” He hit me across the face with the riding crop, not terribly hard, but hard enough. “You will want to do it.”

And indeed, I did, if it would ease the sharp sting across my cheek and the pain of my bleeding lip.

“Your next lessons will be on the uses of pain, child. It will take some years for you to master this part of your training, and you will not enjoy it very much. Or perhaps -- who knows? – you may be one of those who do enjoy it, once you know what it’s like.”

He held the little object closer to me, in front of my face.   “Study your house very closely, mein kleiner Teufel. Learn to live in it and make it your own.”

I stared dubiously at the gift he proposed to give me.

“Mein Herr, is it permitted that I ask you a question?”

“Yes. Whether or not I answer is, as always, my choice.”

“How did you learn all the things you teach me, and vill teach me in the future?”

“How do you think?”

“Someone taught you, as you are teaching me.”

“Yes.”

“Who?” I did not really expect an answer, but I got one.

“My father.”

Perhaps I should have expected that, but I did not. “He gave you – this?” I replied, pointing one finger tentatively at the house he still held in his hand.

He nodded.

“May I also ask if he – sold you – as you do me?”

“No, child. He kept me for his own exclusive use.”

I hesitated for a moment before daring to take this idea any further. But he was not frowning, nor had he threatened me with the riding crop so far.

“Did you – enjoy it?” My voice faded out towards the end, as my courage finally failed me.

“That I will not answer, Kurt. Never speak to me again about this subject. Verstehst du?”

“Ja, I understand. I vill not.”

He smiled. I had pleased him yet again. “You’re a good boy, child. Don’t be afraid. This will not all be bad. There are good things to come for you, if you learn your lessons well.”

I wanted to ask what good things, but knew better than to push my luck. I glanced up at him trustingly, hoping for an explanation.

“I have spoken to M’sieur Villaume. He is willing to let you try out tomorrow. If you do well, he will start training you on the trapeze along with his own son, during the winter months.”

My heart sang with joy. I had wanted this for so long, but had thought it would never be permitted to me. I knew I had the ability to be an aerialist. I had stared for many long hours at the Villaume family up on the trapezes. I knew the basic moves, and had practiced some of them from the branches of trees whenever I could. I was the best acrobat in our small troupe of children, better than some of the adults. My dream might now be possible after all!

Or it might be, if I continued to please Herr Grüber. For I had no illusions about that. If I did not learn these new lessons, and learn them well, he would not let me do this come winter.

“I vill make you proud of me, mein Herr,” I promised fervently. “In all vays.” I held out my hand for the little house.

Satisfied, he placed it on my small palm. “Do you now begin to know what this is, Kurt?”

I stared up at him, my eyes wide, and shook my head.

“Child, this is the House of Pain.”

I curled my few fingers around the precious gift he had given me. “I accept it villingly.”

Logan drains the beer from the bottle in his hand and drops it to the floor to join the four others that are now lying there.

“Aw, shit, Elf,” he says, wrapping both arms around me. “Not when you were only nine years old.”

“Ja,” I say, my voice muffled against his chest. “Herr Grüber believed in starting his training young.”

“Motherfuckin’ son-of-a-bitch!!”

“Do you mean you think he fucked dogs?” I inquire archly, looking up so Logan can see my face.

“Huh?” At least I had derailed the string of curses that would have come next.

“Vell, if he is the son of a bitch, his mother is a dog, nicht wahr? And if he fucks his mother, he vould be fucking –“

Logan holds up a hand to stop me as he finishes the sentence himself.   “—a dog.”

“Ja.”

“You’re not gonna tell me you don’t know what I meant, are ya?”

I gaze at him with a look of innocent incomprehension.

“Look, Elf, it’s an –“

“—idiom. Ja, I know.” I grin as I get up off his lap. “Just trying to lighten things up, mein Freund. The melodrama in here vas getting so thick I vould soon have to have teleported us avay before ve suffocated.” Grabbing a hand, I pull him up from the chair. “Come. It is almost time for supper and I’m hungry, despite all this beer. Lass uns gehen.”

As I turn to drag him towards the door, I feel a sharp smack across my backside just below my tail.

“Ow!” I turn and look at him reproachfully. “Vhat did you do that for?”

“Just because I can, smartass.”

I could not resist the obvious comeback. “Vell, my ass may not be all that smart, but it is certainly smarting just now.”

“Agh!” he exclaims, putting his arm around my waist as we head down the stairs to dinner.

GERMAN TRANSLATION

mein kleines Dämon-Kind      my little demon-child

mein kleiner Teufel     my little devil

Verstehst du?      Do you understand?

nicht wahr?    Isn’t it true? (Old usage, but Kurt likes it better than the

                                                 modern version.)

mein Freund     my friend

Lass uns gehen.       Let’s go.
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As the Twig is Bent