Perfectly Normal

PERFECTLY NORMAL CHAPTER SEVEN

Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… FINALLY a freeze lol. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: Damned if I didn't have a giggle fit over the primate again. Morgan: *test stalk* Readers/Reviewers: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing as you can! J



Kurt hated his tail sometimes. The reverberation of the crash was still hanging in the air of the foyer when Kitty and Jubilee burst into the space, Kitty from the kitchen and Jubilee from upstairs. "Sorry," he muttered, pushing at the broken urn with the side of his foot. "I sort of… missed."

"Missed doing what?" Jubilee mused, her brows creeping upwards. "Waking up the rest of the house?"

"No," came a faint groan from somewhere down the upstairs hall, "he did that just fine."

Kitty glanced at the large, antique urn now shattered on the floor, then back up at Kurt. "What's wrong?" She knew Magneto was behind her, in the shadows of the rec room. She could feel his eyes on her, on them all, and she wanted to scream, to throw something at him. But she took a deep breath and forced the skin-crawling awareness of his presence off of her body. He can't hurt me. He's just a sick old man who's going to die soon anyway.

Kurt shook his head. "I, um, got clumsy," he shrugged. In truth, he had been pacing, his tail lashing angrily as he debated whether or not to give Kitty the message from her friend Pete. He had left it on the front door, nicely tucked into a thick paper envelope. Kurt had not read the note itself; he could not bring himself to violate her privacy like that. But the temptation was burning a hole in his chest, the expensive, cream-colored envelope tucked into his shirt, felt like it was an iron weight on his ribs, Kitty's gaze flaying away the artifice to find the purloined letter.

"You're never clumsy unless something's the matter," she said in a low, flat tone. "What's wrong?" Kitty did not move towards him, but she wanted to. Her fingers practically itched with the need to reach out and lay her hand on his arm, feel the play of muscle and bone under the soft layer of fur. He was lying about something—she knew it as easily as she knew Jubilee was about to run her mouth off and say something that would either make her angry or make Kurt vanish. "Come on," she said suddenly, forcing herself to move. She grabbed hold of his wrist before he could make a move, pushing him back towards the study door, the crunch of the antique ceramic under her feet making her wince and grit her teeth. Kurt uttered a startled yelp but did not fight her, even as they passed through the wooden door unimpeded.

"Was that Magneto?" he began in a lame attempt to divert her attention. He knew full and well it was and he had his own say about the presence the night before but was managing—barely—to keep his temper and tongue in check under threat of Logan and Danger Room duty. "Is he going to be here all day?"

"What's wrong, Kurt?" she repeated, keeping hold of his wrist. Part of her brain could not help but point out how much more pleasant it was to hold Kurt's wrist like this, that he did not feel slightly sweaty and disturbingly bare, like Pete did. She felt bad for thinking negatively of Pete but, her mind chided her, you cannot help the truth. "Is it Magneto? Cause I'm not happy about him being here either but the Professor even had it in writing and…" she took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "I've already missed so much school but I'm thinking of going back till this stupid documentary shoot is done just so I don't have to be here at all." She rubbed her thumb idly across the inside of his wrist, missing the sudden flare of his golden eyes as she stared down at her own feet, bare against the Aubusson carpet. "But I feel guilty even thinking it. I don't want to just abandon everyone here, you know?"

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to school himself into a semblance of non-bitter calm. "You have to do what's right for you, Liebes. If you need to be away, then be away." He gently twisted out of his grasp but did not step away. The sudden flare of pain and annoyance in her eyes told him all that he needed to know. She felt guilty about going, guilty about staying. She did not want to be tied to the Institute, to him, but she was. It was not her choice, he thought on a well of his own guilt.

She licked her lips, trying not to let his guileless words hurt her. She smoothed her ponytail and fixed him with a level, neutral gaze and continued, "The film crew is supposed to be here in just a few hours so we need to clean up the front hall…"

"Um, I think you're wrong," Kurt said stiffly. He had seen movement across the window facing the gravel drive, a dark shape out of the corner of his eye. "I think we've got company now."

"No!" Kitty gasped. "No no no no no!" She hurried to flee the room, pausing just before the door. "Open doors, Kitty!" she scolded herself, jerking it open by the brass knob and leaving Kurt behind her. Magneto stood in the archway leading to the rec room, impossibly austere and relaxed as Jubilee swept the ruined urn into a dust pan, her face set in mutinous lines. "Kurt said…"

"Yes," the older man replied. "I know." He felt better than he had in years, his veins thrumming with vitality. His missing "friend" had been waiting for him, like it had been fated. He felt whole, alive. He felt, he dared let himself smirk at the thought, invincible. "Get some clothes on. You look like a fishmonger's wife."

Kitty's jaw dropped and she could scarcely muster words as a heavy knock fell on the door. "I do not!" she managed to squeak as Magneto started forward. Without another word, she turned and ran up the stairs, her bare feet slapping on the wooden steps.

"Take your broom and go. It will not do to appear slovenly before the cameras," Magneto ordered Jubilee, one hand on the door and one in his pocket. "Go. Mystique has the day's schedule prepared and copies of it waiting in the dining hall. Breakfast is in fifteen minutes. All are required to be there," he added as the teenager clattered, broom and all, towards the kitchen. He was not nervous. He felt like he could do anything, say anything, and he would be golden. If this is how Charles feels all the time, I might need to look into this do-gooder business…


A/N SMUT next one!