Eye of the Beholder

Author’s Notes: A bit thank you to Christina, Namipulla and onewing for all reviewing so quickly. I’ve got the next chapter started, but it’s hand written and needs to be typed up. As always, please enjoy and review.

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He quickly stands, comes around the table, pulls her chair out for her and then escorts her down to the dance floor. He leads her through a simple foxtrot which she follows almost perfectly. While he would much prefer to be dancing barefooted like he was last week, he must admit that his dancing partner is an improvement. Not that Storm was a bad dancer and not that he doesn’t care for her, but she’s part of his past and a very large part of him hopes that he’s currently holding his future in his arms. There’s also the advantage that Amanda is several inches taller than the white haired mutant which means he’s looking at her face, not the top of her head.

“So, how long has your sister been married?” he questions.

“Twelve years,” she responds. “She got married on the thirtieth of October and since Halloween was always one of her favorite holidays, she decided that we had to have a costume party wedding.”

“Oh my stars and garters,” he chuckles.

“It gets worse,” she warns and his eyebrows threaten to become residents on the top of his head. “Since I was her maid of honor, she got to pick my costume for me.”

“Which was…?” he prompts after several moments of silence while her cheeks turn bright pink.

“Elvira,” she mumbles and her face turns red.

He barely manages not to step on her as he stumbles while an image of her in a very low cut, skin tight dress, fishnet stockings and spiked heels flashes through his mind.

“Oh my stars and garters,” he whispers as he tries to get his rampaging libido under control.

“But I did get my revenge though,” she states proudly, dragging him back to the present.

“And how did you do that?” he asks.

“My foolish sister left me in charge of the cake,” she snickers.

“What did you do to the cake?” he questions worriedly.

“Nothing to leave it inedible,” she assures him. “In fact, it was quite good. My sister the health nut got a Twinkie wedding cake.”

“A WHAT!?” he laughs coming to a full stop in the middle of the dance floor causing several other dancers to cast him a curious glances, some of which are less than friendly. “You’re not serious.”

“Very,” she replies smugly. “It took more boxes of Twinkies, fondant and icing than should probably be legally allowed, but in the end, the entire thing was a work of art.”

“Why Twinkies?” he asks as they begin dancing again.

“Because I absolutely love Twinkies,” she answers sincerely. “I think they are the best food in the entire world and I knew it would drive my sister crazy.”

“Marry me,” he says without thinking.

“WHAT!?” she laughs, missing a step and getting trod on in the process.

She lets out a small yelp and she draws even more glares from other couples. After checking to make sure that she’s alright, he guides her back up to their table where their non-Twinkie desserts await them. He gets her comfortably seated before retaking his own chair.

“You weren’t…serious…were you?” she hesitantly asks, very nervous as she picks up her fork.

“No, my apologies if I upset you,” he answers while he picks up his own utensil.

“I was more startled than anything,” she responds. “Why…?”

“It’s very rare to find someone else who shares the same fondness for those wonderful little golden cakes as I do,” he admits, feeling his cheeks warm up. “I’m afraid I spoke without thinking.”

“Another Twinkie addict, huh?” she chuckles. “Glad to know that I’m not the only one in the world.”

“Maybe we should join Twinkies Anonymous,” he jokes and she laughs.

“I’d probably get kicked out for smuggling Twinkies into the meetings,” she snickers and it’s his turn to laugh.

“So was the cake your own creation?” he questions after they’ve both calmed down enough to talk sensibly.

“No,” she replies unable to get the smile off of her face. “I talked the gal Annie said I should have make the cake into making it. It was three tiers of glorious Twinkie goodness and it was perfect. When Annie and Mike cut into the cake and pulled out that first slice, it took them a minute to figure it out. The look on Annie’s face was classic and Mike almost hurt himself laughing.”

“What did your parents think of all this?” he inquires.

“Dad just laughed, but poor Mom nearly had a seizure,” she answers with an evil chuckle. “Mom was so busy helping Annie to make her princess and Mike’s Prince charming costumes, she never knew about my costume and trust me when I tell you that one didn’t take long to make at all. When I tried to get Mom involved with the cake she just handed me the money and told me to take care of it. When she saw what I had to wear down the aisle, she nearly had a heart attack, but then she saw the inside of the cake and I thought she was going to burst something.”

“It’s not nice to torment your mother,” he reprimands, but she finds it hard to believe he’s serious since she can see him fighting not to laugh.

“Don’t worry, she’s spent the past twelve years getting her revenge by driving me crazy,” she responds. “When ever I talk to her it’s always the same conversation. ‘When are you going to settle down and get married?’ ‘When are you going to give me more grandchildren?’”

“She sounds like most mothers,” he says thinking of his own family.

“Now that I’m thirty, it’s gotten worse,” she moans. “At the birthday party she held for Annie and me, there were an awful lot of single men there. Most of them I had met once or twice before, but there were several there that I had never laid eyes on before in my life and I wouldn’t mind never seeing any of them ever again.”

“I think that’s pretty universal of all mothers wanting to see their children happily married and grandchildren are always a bonus,” he muses.

“My mother is becoming rather psychotic about it, if you ask me,” she mutters. “She wants grandchildren so bad that she’s willing to drive me to the funny farm to get them.”

“Didn’t you say that your sister has children?” he asks, a bit confused.

“Yeah, but they’re eleven and nine years old,” she answers. “Mom wants babies to cuddle and I thing she’s getting desperate. Of course it doesn’t help when none of my relationships lasts for more than a few months.”

“Why do you suppose that is?” he questions.

“Because I won’t have sex with them,” she bluntly tells him. “Well, at least one relationship failed because the guy was gay and in the closet until he dated me. Then there was the guy that was wanted by the police for embezzlement, he’s currently behind bars. But for the most part it’s because I refuse to hop into the sack with them after only a couple of dates.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he tells her and she looks at him in surprise. “I would have lost a lot of respect for you if I learned that you were changing bed partners as often as you change the sheets.”

“Thanks,” she whispers.

They finish their desserts in silence and a short time later the server returns to clear their plates and refresh their coffees. She leaves the check on the table and then disappears. He picks it up and gives it a quick look over before dropping a credit card on it. She watches the dancers in silent contemplation as the server returns for payment goes away again and then comes back with the receipt to be signed and wishes them a good evening.

“Would you like to dance some more?” he questions as she puts down her empty cup. “I promise to try not stepping on you this time.”

“I’d love to,” she replies with a smile.

He quickly stands and then helps her from her seat before leading her back to the dance floor. He takes her into his arms and notices how much better she fits into them than Storm did. Once again he catches her scent beneath the smells of all the products that have been used on her and he can feel his skin tingling.

“What’s Thanksgiving like in your family?” she asks, startling him back to reality.

“It used to be a fairly quiet, happy affair,” he answers wistfully. “These days it’s a bit more intense.”

“Why’s that?” she questions.

“Some members of my family are not happy with my obvious mutation or my political views and have no qualms about letting me know,” he sadly states. “I like to think that my continued presence at these family functions is slowly breaking down their walls of prejudice.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something that unpleasant,” she apologizes, feeling horrible for doing so.

“Now that I’ve told you what I know awaits me in a couple weeks, please tell me what your Thanksgiving will be like,” he gently insists.

“I expect the usual circus,” she tells him. There will be my parents, my sister and her family, my grandparents from both sides, various aunts, uncles and cousins, all of whom are old enough to have families of their own, and little old me. All in all there will be about thirty-five of us and a good number of them will be staying with my parents. My sister will have the good sense not to come until Thanksgiving morning, but my grandparents and the aunts, uncles and cousins who’ll be traveling more than a couple of hours will be staying there. I will be giving up my room to my mother’s parents while I get a lovely spot on the living room floor with all of the kids. I will also have the dubious joy of enduring several days of my mother, grandmothers, aunts and female cousins asking me when I’m going to settle down, get married and start making babies. Are you seeing a theme here? Heaven help me if I mention or even hint that there is a man in my life since I will be bugged to death as to why I didn’t bring him. After all, why wouldn’t he want to meet my family?”

“Does that mean you won’t mention me?” he inquires.

“That all depends on if anyone else saw those pictures of us in last Monday’s paper,” she groans.

“You do realize that there are more on the net, don’t you?” he questions and she moans.

He is unable to stop himself from chuckling as he guides her across the floor.

“Do you have something against marriage and children?” he finally asks after getting himself under control.

“In theory, I have nothing against marriage,” she responds. “Even though I was a tomboy, I still dreamed of wearing that big white dress and having my father escort me down the aisle. However, I have this slight problem that I refuse to compromise my values and sleep with a guy just so he’ll stick around for more than a couple months, so I haven’t been too lucky in the boyfriend department. Then there’s the slight problem that I’m not a big fan of babies.”

“Why don’t you like babies?” he questions in surprise.

“They’re ok from a distance, but up close it’s another story,” she answers. “I never really liked dolls when I was growing up and when my sister had my nephew my biological clock went into hiding. I was still living at home when Annie and Mike came for a visit for the weekend after Paul was born; I thought for sure my uterus sealed itself shut. He had colic so from about one to five every morning the kid screamed non-stop. When he wasn’t crying, being fed or having his diaper changed, I was being regaled with the details of my sister’s labor and delivery, the pros and cons of circumcision and whether breast feeding is better than bottle feeding. Don’t even get me started on diaper rashes, episiotomies, epidurals, Pitocin and cracked nipples.”

“I won’t,” he assures her, laughing. “Maybe that’s part of the reason you haven’t found someone, you don’t want to have babies.”

“I haven’t found anyone who doesn’t expect me to simply become an extension of himself,” she responds. “I even dated a guy who told me that he expected me to give up my career so that I could stay home and raise babies of which there would be at least four of them, preferably boys.”

“I take it that relationship didn’t last much longer after that,” he says.

“It lasted long enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear me tell him what a Neanderthal I thought he was and then I got up and left right in the middle of dinner,” she tells him as he shakes his head and chuckles. “So, now that I’ve talked your ear off about my lack of love life, which for some strange reason hasn’t sent you running away screaming into the night, what about you? Why isn’t there a Mrs. Hank McCoy in your life?”

“I’ve only had a couple relationships that were of the romantic nature in my life,” he confesses, getting lost for a moment in the green eyes watching him intently. “There were very few girls in high school who wanted to be associated with ‘Magilla Gorilla’, so my social life with the fairer sex was pretty much non-existent back then. In college there was a journalism major that I dated for a while, but she decided that her studies were being hindered by being in a relationship. I’m not sure which hurt more, the fact that she broke up with my answering machine or that a few weeks later I found out she had a new beau. After college I returned to Xavier’s to continue my research. While there, I became involved with one of the other teachers.

“Ororo,” she states.

“How did you know?” he asks and one of her eyebrows arches up at him. “Ah, right, the teenage grapevine, more reliable than CNN. Yes, ‘Ro and I were involved for a time. Then I developed a serum that gave non-mutants mutant like abilities and enhanced the abilities of mutants, but an antidote was required to be taken in order for the effects not to become permanent. Something happened that I felt it necessary to take the serum and unfortunately, I wasn’t able to take the antidote in time leaving me as you see me now.

“I don’t know Ororo well enough to have a clue to how she would have responded, but she doesn’t strike me as the shallow type that would have a change of heart just because you became rather hirsute,” she tells him. “And if my grapevine is to be believed, she’s been getting rather close to Kurt who one ups you in the unusual looks department with his tail.”

“You are correct,” he softly replies. “She didn’t end the relationship, I did. I couldn’t believe that such a beautiful woman would want me after my change became permanent. I truly felt that the only reason she stayed with me at first was because Charles was controlling her, making her believe that she still loved me. I realize now that I may have been a bit too hasty with my decision.”

“Not that I wish Ororo any pain, but I’m glad that you did break up with her,” she quietly says and he gives her a curious look. “If the two of you were still together, I wouldn’t be here have a wonderful evening. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he softly replies.

Before he can say anything more, the music ends and people applaud. The band leader thanks everyone and wishes them a good night. Startled, Hank watches the band members get up and leave the stage. He checks his watch and is surprised by the time.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he states as he turns his gaze back to her. “I guess I should be getting you back.”

“Why? Am I going to turn into a pumpkin?” she jokes.

“Of course not,” he chuckles as he leads her back to the table. “But I believe you have to drive home tomorrow and I’m sure Serena will want a full detailed report on our date. A couple of things that are best done with a decent night’s sleep.”

She can offer no argument, so a few minutes later they’re hurrying through the chilly night air through the parking lot to the car. They quickly get in and a short time later they’re on their way back to the mansion. He glances over at her and sees her eyelids starting to droop and he gives a small smile.

By the time they get to the school, she’s sound asleep and he parks in the garage right next to her little compact. When he opens her door, she doesn’t move and he takes advantage of the situation to touch her hair. She wasn’t lying; her hair is very stiff from all of the hair styling products they put into it.

Once he has her free of her seatbelt, he gently lifts her into his arms. He bumps the car door shut with his hip before heading inside. She lets out a soft moan and one of her arms snakes around his neck. He has to stop for several moments as he gets his rampaging libido back under control again.

He finally gets upstairs and to her room where he thanks his lucky stars that the door isn’t latched closed. Luckily it’s too dark for him to get a good look at the mess made by her getting ready and he lays her down on the bed. He carefully removes her shoes and then gently covers her with a blanket.

He softly kisses her on the forehead and then leaves her room, quietly shutting the door behind him where he encounters one of the last people in the world he wants to see.