Bits and Pieces
7
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Bits and Pieces Chapter Seven (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…
InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly and wondermous for
archiving/hosting.
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plot! Maybe!
Kurt nearly
choked on the remains of Jubilee’s ice cream, which was now sweet, virulent
green sludge in the bottom of the plastic bowl.
“Pardon
me?”
“I said,” Mark’s voice held a
definite hint of amusement, “I want to sleep with you for religious reasons
“I have to
admit… that’s one of the better lines I’ve heard.”
Kurt leaned
forward, peering around the side of the booth.
The pair were not sitting any closer than a few moments previously but
he could definitely detect something changed between them.
through coffee flavored ice cream and his companion was sipping on something
that bore a disturbing resemblance to the pink goo
from that Superman movie. He scooted a
bit closer to the edge of the booth’s bench seat and narrowed his eyes as if
that could help him hear better.
“At any
rate,” Mark was saying, apparently picking up some previous thread of
conversation set aside before entering the ice cream shop, “I need to head back
to the Institute soon. The damned
luggage didn’t pan out yet again and I need to distract myself with paperwork
before I do something rash to the airline employees stationed at this far end
of nowhere.”
Mystique
smiled in amusement. “Bayville isn’t so
bad if you like the small town life…”
Her expression became a bit distant, an old memory surfacing for just a
moment before being pushed back down beneath the waves of the present.
“Ah, it
needs to be cleared with the British consulate, which is asinine.
desolate places than the Atlantic seaboard… it didn’t take me this long to get
it back in
sending tiny droplets raining down on the irritatingly pastel tabletop.
“Why were you in
she asked, the curiosity plain in her voice.
“Vacation…”
the waxy tile floor. “May I walk you to
your car?”
“That would be nice, thank you…”
Kurt waited until the door hissed
it’s way shut behind them, bells jangling all the while, before getting to his
feet and striding after them. He knew
that voice, no matter what her guise was.
She could change it, she could alter her appearance, but he would always
know Mystique. Some part of him would
always recognize her; he had at first thought it was because he hated her but
over time he had realized it was a connection, no matter how he tried to sever
it, that would always make her known to him.
The few times he had come up against her in any confrontation, she had
not harmed him as she could have though she did not hesitate to hurt his
friends. This, he decided, irritated
him. He watched Mark and Mystique walk
ahead of him down the sidewalk, not touching but very close, talking about work
(ha, Kurt thought, if only Mark knew the truth about her… ) and England.
close enough to be seen, distrust and dislike mingling in his gut and making
his head hurt. He stopped when they did,
making sure he was far enough away to appear casual should one of them turn and
see him. They had drawn to a halt beside a late model sedan, something, Kurt
thought, that a respectable person would drive, not a shapeshifting,
murderous henchwoman.
Mark opened the door for her and
stood back while she buckled in. “Do you
want a ride to your car?” she asked. “It’s
getting cooler out…”
“I’ll be fine,” he promised.
to be a universal gesture and stood back as she drove away.
without looking at the teenager. “Even
with your metabolism, if it is truly as Doctor McCoy explained it to me, you
should be chilled without your jacket by now.”
Kurt felt his eyes go wide.
know you had come to town!”
Mark turned to face him, his hands
stuffed in his jacket pockets. “You’ve
been following me since the ice cream shop,” he pointed out blandly, raising
his brows behind his glasses. “You are
terrible at spying. Don’t take that as
offense—you’re young yet and there’s much to learn.
books written by some former government types that really go into detail about
the finer points if you’d like…”
Kurt blushed, glad his
“Nein, danke.
I’m just…um…waiting for Remy… He’s looking for Jubilee.”
laughed nervously. “He’s glad to be home…”
Mark made a noncommittal noise as
he regarded Kurt. “I’ll give you a ride
back to the Institute. Today was a bust
for my purposes…well, partially. No use
you freezing your tail off, waiting for your friend.”
walked past him on his way to the car, parked a block or so down from where
they stood. Kurt followed, not quite beside
him but close enough for Mark to talk comfortably.
about the affairs, so to speak, of your teachers and elders but I’ll thank you
to leave mine be.”
Kurt snorted. “You have no idea who
she is, do you?”
“I know enough, not that it is any
of your business,” Mark replied tartly. “There’s
no reason she and I cannot have coffee together occasionally and maybe see a
film if we choose simply because we work for different organizations.”
Kurt stopped in his tracks, anger
boiling over. “She’s not some teacher, you know!”
carefully neutral. “She has tried to
kill us more times than I can count! She has worked hard to destroy all that Professor
Xavier’s built and worse than that…” He
stepped closer, aware his raised voice could draw unwanted attention, “She has
no problem hurting anyone...man, woman, child…
Don’t believe me? Ask anyone at the Institute about her.
about how her son is missing! Ask Rogue…”
“Kurt,” Mark cut in quietly, “I’ll
thank you to keep your voice down and allow me to form my own opinions.”
Kurt snarled, an almost animal
sound, and turned away. “Fine,” he shot
back, walking stiffly as if his entire body hurt from his anger, “it’s your
life. Ruin it.”
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Nightfall as a real knack for dialogue.