Eye of the Beholder

Author’s Notes: Cyber cookies go to: blue_lioness and onewing; Honorable mentions go to for getting four out of the five: amh, Vixey, Namipulla, Arden and roni. A great big thank you to all of you for your reviews. It was in fact the Fantastic Four and the Silver Surfer I was going for. The young man isn’t Gambit. I do intend to bring him in, but not until the end of the story.

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“You can’t be serious,” she states, sounding less than thrilled.

“Well, unless you intend to eat with your fingers…,” he suggests waving the pair of chopsticks in front of her.

“At least then I can guarantee that the food will actually make it into my mouth and not into my lap,” she retorts, unable to take her eyes off of the pieces of bamboo he’s holding and starting to lean away from them.

“It’s not that hard,” he gently chides as he scoots his chair closer to hers.

“Sure, if you grew up using them,” she counters, still moving away from those little pieces of wood as if they’re about to bite her.

“Here, I’ll show you how to use them,” he states.

He catches her right hand with his left and then carefully places the chopsticks in her fingers. He spends the next couple of minutes teaching her how to hold the chopsticks, his large hand easily engulfing her smaller one as he guides her to picking up a piece of chicken and then helps her get the morsel to her mouth. But it really doesn’t matter what he’s telling her since her brain is currently taking a vacation. The warmth of his hand on hers, the feeling of his breath on her cheek and neck and his heady scent are overwhelming her senses and she can’t think straight.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teasingly asks, completely oblivious to what he’s doing to her on the inside.

“Not with you guiding my hand,” she answers after his words finally sink through the fog that’s engulfed her brain.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine once I let go,” he assures her as he starts to pull back.

“There’s a problem if you do that,” she warns, causing him to pause.

“What’s that?” he inquires.

“I’m not ambidextrous,” she smiles as she wiggles the fingers of her left hand at him.

“You could have reminded me sooner,” he grumbles playfully as she snickers.

“I refuse to be the only one blushing at this table,” she retorts with a smirk.

“Who says I’m blushing?” he huffs, knowing perfectly well that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Oh, so your skin turns a darker shade of blue and your fur slightly bristles at random times just for the fun of it?” she teases and he can feel his face heat up even more. “In fact, it looks like your blushing even harder now.”

“And here I had thought my fur was hiding that,” he quietly admits, a bit ashamed as he stares down at the table, unable to look her in the eye.

“It does a bit and it took me a while to realize what was going on, so for a stranger I’m sure they’d never notice,” she assures him. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She lays her left hand over his right which is still holding her other appendage and gives it a gentle squeeze. He looks up into her eyes and feels so drawn to them that he unconsciously starts to lean closer to her. His free arm circles her shoulders and he pulls her closer to him. His lips draw nearer to hers and then something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye.

He turns in time to see the guy who flambéed his food earlier hastily putting his phone away and there is no doubt in Hank’s mind that it was one of those damnable camera phones. He glances at the other patrons who are all pointedly ignoring them with the exception of the guy in the corner who’s openly staring at them in fascination. With a sigh, Hank sits back and notices Amanda staring right back at the man in the corner in an almost challenging manner.

“Come, my dear, dinner is getting cold,” he says softly as he takes the chopsticks out of her right hand. “And if that man is who I think he is, you’re not likely to win a staring contest with him.”

“How do you know if you won’t let me try?” she asks as she turns to gaze at him, a smile on her lips. “I’ve been known to make snakes blink.”

“Because there is little that frightens or fazes that man and snakes don’t have eyelids,” he answers, an amused look on his face. “Now, let’s see if you can put what you’ve learned with your right hand can be taught to your left.”

For the next several minutes he tries to teach her how to use the chopsticks again, but it’s much more difficult than before since he can’t quite manage to guide her hand like before. He watches as she finally manages to pick up another piece of chicken, this time on her own and watches excitedly as she starts to bring it up to her mouth only for the chopsticks to slip a few inches shy of her mouth and send the food flying through the air to land on the next table over. It takes every ounce of control he has and a good deal of cheek biting to not laugh while he does his best to ignore the snickers from the other tables. He quickly takes her chopsticks away when he sees her about to stab her food with one of them.

“That’s considered a great insult in Asian countries,” he tells her, trying to keep a straight face.

“And I suppose letting a person starve is perfectly ok,” she grumbles, starting to sulk as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“You won’t starve,” he assures her as he expertly picks up his own chopsticks and then easily catches a shrimp with them. “Even if I have to feed you myself.”

He holds out the morsel for her and just glares back at him.

“I’m a little old to be fed by someone else,” she huffs as she leans away from him.

“So much for being romantic,” he quietly mumbles as he pulls back.

“It would be if we didn’t have an audience,” she mutters back.

He turns to see four of the other patrons quickly turn back to their dinners as the solo diner continues to watch them curiously. The young man who brought them their waters earlier approaches their table, his pink eyes dancing merrily with suppressed mirth. He puts a fork down next to Amanda’s plate and she smiles up at the teenager.

“Thank you,” she says, relief very evident in her voice as she picks up the utensil.

“Weren’t your eyes red earlier?” Hank asks him.

“Yeah, but they change color with my mood,” the teenager replies. “Great mutation, huh? I have mood rings for eyes.”

“It could be worse,” Hank replies. “You could shed on the furniture.”

“You got me on that one,” the young man smiles. “Enjoy your dinner, folks.”

With that, the teenager goes to quickly clean up the table next to theirs and they turn their attention back to their dinner, ignoring the other people in the room who go back to their own meals with the exception being the lone man in the corner.

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“So, what did you think of dinner?” he asks as they step out of the restaurant into the bitterly cold air.

“It was delicious,” she answers just before giving a little burp and hastily putting her hand over her mouth. “Excuse me. I don’t think I’m going to eat again for a week.”

“We’ll see about that in about an hour,” he jokes as they head towards the car.

Just as Hank unlocks the car, the lone man from the restaurant exits and looks at them briefly. Amanda frowns at the strange male as she quickly notices she can’t see his breath like she can see hers and Hank’s. The man briefly nods to them and then turns his attention to the overcast sky.

“My board, to me!” the man commands in a deep ethereal voice.

He drops the façade, turns completely silver, his clothes melding into him so that it appears that he’s completely nude. Amanda can’t help herself as she looks down at a certain part of his anatomy only to notice that there’s nothing there and she starts to blush furiously when she realizes what she’s doing. A second later, a silver streak zips past them and the man easily jumps onto it, shooting off into the night like a silver bullet.

“Was that…?” she squeaks several seconds after he’s gone.

“Yes, I believe it was,” Hank replies as he opens her door. “I always wondered where Norrin got off to when he wasn’t saving the world or exploring it.”

“Does that mean the other four were…?” she tries to ask, still staring into the sky.

“Yes, they were,” he answers while he gently steers her into her seat. “Does that surprise you?”

“Well, to tell the truth, yes,” she responds, finally turning to look up at him.

“Did you think they just sat around in the Baxter Building waiting for their services to be called upon?” he asks as he leans against the side of the car.

“Well, no, but I never thought I’d see them in a little hole in the wall Chinese restaurant,” she answers. “Though I’m curious why they weren’t sitting together.”

“One of the great mysteries of life that will probably never be answered,” he tells her as he steps back and closes the door.

“You know, it seems weird sometimes,” she muses as he gets into the car. “I see these people in the news all the time and I hear about their heroic deeds, so I kind of guess that I forgot that they’re just people like you and me.”

“Yeah, just like you and me,” he softly agrees with a smile and she smiles back.

They drive off in companionable silence for a while and it’s not until she starts giving him directions to her apartment building that he gets the courage up to say what’s on his mind.

“I know that this coming week is very busy for the both of us, but I was wondering what you’re doing this coming weekend,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I’m packing,” she tells him.

“You’re packing for your vacation a week early?” he asks. “I’ve heard of being prepared, but don’t you think that’s taking it a bit far?”

“Not that type of packing,” she laughs. “I’m packing to move.”

“You’re moving?” he questions, feeling his stomach sink down to his toes. “Where to?”

“Yeah, I found a better apartment in a better neighborhood,” she answers and his spirits lighten. “It’s a bit more expensive, but I feel I can afford it and I think I deserve to live someplace nice, especially since this place only has one bedroom and I won’t feel this silly need to get a roommate.”

“Where will the new apartment be?” he inquires, feeling a bit better with the news that she’ll be living alone.

“It’s on E 64th Street between 1st and 2nd Avenues,” she tells him.

“You’re kidding,” he blurts out in surprise.

“Um, no, that’s where I’m moving to,” she replies a bit nervously. “Why?”

“I live on E 65th Street near 3rd Avenue,” he chuckles.

“You’re kidding,” she echoes in shock.

“No, I’m not,” he laughs, a feeling of delight lifting his spirits to the sky.

She directs him to turn down her street and a few moments later they’re parked down the block from her apartment building. They sit there in silence for several moments, neither exactly sure what to do now that they’ve reached the end of their journey, neither one of them really wanting it to end. While the thought of making out like a couple of hormonally charged teenagers does cross both of their minds, the rational part of their brains does finally take over.

“It’s a little hard to wrap my brain around the idea that we’re about to be neighbors,” she says, finally breaking the silence.

“When are you moving?” he asks.

“First weekend in December,” she answers.

“If you need any help…,” he starts.

“I couldn’t ask that of you,” she interrupts.

“You’re not, I’m offering,” he points out, turning to look at her.

“Then I gratefully accept,” she replies, unable to hide her smile and she can feel her cheeks heating up again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies.

“It’s getting late, I really should be getting inside,” she says sadly. “I’m sure you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be in meetings all day,” he grumbles. “I wonder why I bother sometimes.”

“If you don’t like it, why don’t you quit?” she asks.

“I ask myself that almost every day,” he answers. “But I keep thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’m making a difference and if I am, then it’s best if I stay right where I am.”

“How do you know if you are?” she questions.

“This is one of those things that may not bear fruit for years, but I am a patient man, so I’ll stick it out for now,” he replies. “Who knows, maybe all the bigots in the world will suddenly come to their senses and we call all live harmoniously.”

“That would be nice,” she responds and then lets out a yawn. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Well, it is late and I think we should be seeking our beds now,” he states as he opens his door.

Mate? The Beast asks hopefully.

Hush, you, Hank tells it sternly

“You’re right, it’s been a long day,” she agrees as she opens her own door.

She gets out of the car as he retrieves her bags from the trunk and a moment later they’re standing on the sidewalk facing each other.

“May I have the honor of escorting you to the door?” he requests.

“I would be delighted,” she answers.

He offers her his arm and she gladly slips hers through his. They walk at a sedate pace, despite the cold, though she figures that the heat radiating from his body could probably keep her warm in the middle of a blizzard. Despite their slow stroll, they find themselves at the door all too soon. They stand there awkwardly not quite able to look at each other for several seconds until he puts her bags down on the ground next to her.

“Thank you,” she says, looking a bit nervous and her cheeks a brighter shade of red than the cold can be blamed for.

“You’re welcome,” he replies. “It wasn’t any trouble at all. It’s not like you packed a lot.”

“Oh, not that, well, I mean that too,” she rambles as she’s sure her heart is about to burst out of her chest it’s pounding so hard.

“Amanda,” he quietly says.

“But thank you for everything, dinner, last night and tonight and for taking care of me when I got nailed by that Frisbee…”

“Amanda,” he softly calls.

“…and letting me cry on you, last night and tonight, and waking me up when I had that nightmare and trying to come to my rescue when that jerk tried to drag me off and…”

“You’re rambling,” he interrupts after putting a silencing finger on her lips.

“Am I?” she asks nervously as he lowers his hand. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to start rambling. I don’t normally ramble. I’m usually very calm and level headed…”

“You’re rambling again,” he tells her, his finger on her lips once more.

“Sorry,” she mumbles around the finger.

“It’s ok,” he assures her as he steps closer and slips his other arm around her waist. “I’m going to remove my finger and then I’m going to kiss you. Is this alright?”

Her eyes get bigger as she quickly nods and he moves the aforementioned digit so that he can gently cup her cheek with his hand. He swallows his nerves and tries to ignore the fact that he’s probably going to have a heart attack at any second if the pounding of his heart is any indication. He moves his face closer to hers and he can feel her hands on his waist grabbing fistfuls of his jacket. Her breath comes in short, warm pants across his lips and he can smell her excitement. He’s not sure who’s trembling harder, him or her, but when he hears a strangled squeak he stops millimeters from her lips.

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