| 04) Kurt - Tripping The Light Fantastic Kurt wasn't going to go to the Social. It had been nice to talk to Karla, but a single begrudged hour of someone's time wasn't worth the aggravation, at least not this month. His trainer had other plans, apparently. When he had his dinner that Friday, Combs dropped a red card on his tray. "You spend too much damned time alone, Hound. Live a little." He nodded, his face unhappy, as Combs walked away. He went to his quarters and changed to a new jumpsuit, then walked to the Social. He stood at the door and looked within. It was as bad as it was last time, all lewd conversations and lewder behavior. He caught Karla's eyes as she danced with some big bruiser. She was with Brad, one his former 'playmates'. She shook her head slightly, but held up a finger to him, and mouthed, 'wait'. When the song ended she peeled Brad's hands off her, and walked purposely to the dark corner of the room. "Hey, altar-boy," Brad called, teasingly. "Come to get laid?" He laughed loudly at his own joke. Kurt ignored him and waited for Karla to return. When he saw her again, she pointed at a small form moving in his direction, before giving her attention back to Brad. Obviously she'd set him up with someone else. The girl-Hound was very young, without her full growth. She still wore her collar, which meant her power was either very dangerous or she was a recent acquisition. Her short brown hair tended to support the latter idea. Under the tattoo, her face was innocent and frightened. Her brown eyes got bigger and bigger as she neared him. She was taking in his appearance, and seemed to physically flinch every time she noticed another one of his 'little oddities'. She fidgeted in front of him, looking like she was about to cry. This was not what he needed today. She offered him a plate of snacks, but when he thanked her and reached for it, she gasped and took a step back. Kurt closed his eyes tightly. He couldn't believe how much her reaction hurt him. "I... I'm sorry," she said, her Midwest accent sounding contrite. "We're all Hounds, right?" He felt her gently put the plate into his hand. He tried to pull himself back together, and master the pain. "Are you okay?" she insisted. He met her eyes, and she looked away, down at his feet and nervous tail, her eyes widening again in surprise. She blinked, her eyes draining of all expression, and something changed in her eyes. She gave a little shake of her head, and started laughing silently. Sudden rage bloomed inside him. He nearly shook with it as he crouched, ready to fight. First she'd hurt him with her fear, and now she was mocking him? "You find something amusing, ja?" he growled. She raised her hands in defense and apology. "It's just... Oh God, it's like..." The laughter spilled into her voice as she struggled to explain. "Someone, was playing some kind of sick joke, and you... you got the brunt of it." Sparkling brown eyes met his deliberately, holding his golden gaze, and trying to convey something that she couldn't put into words. She put her hands over her mouth and quivered. Her words began to penetrate the pulse of his anger. She couldn't be looking at him that way if she was making fun of him. There was no trace of cruelty in her eyes. But what was she trying to say? Then the sense of it filtered through his defensiveness at last, and his tension began to melt away. Gott, as if he hadn't had that same thought more times than he could count... But... where had that anger come from? This place got to him more than he'd thought. He sighed, and smiled to show he understood. "Oh, ja. Am I not the living pinnacle of Mother Nature's sense of humor?" He gave her a grand bow to honor her for her insight, and she curtseyed back. "Actually, I'm used to being the brunt of the joke, and it's nice to find someone else who can appreciate the jest." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice, or his smile. A new expression came over her face, one that sobered her. He couldn't tell if it was compassion or just pity, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He took a slice of cheese from the plate she'd given him. The conversation had gotten far too personal. "My name is Kitty." She ate a piece of fruit, and looked around. Whatever she was looking for, it wasn't in the Social Hall, because she edged away from the room and all it contained. "Ach, where are my manners?" She must think he was a cad. "I am Kurt Wag..." He cut himself off. Last names meant nothing here. "I'm Kurt." Only among each other did the Hounds have even that much identity. There was a glint in her eyes, and she smiled. "No, you're not." "Was... pardon?" He blinked, puzzled. "That is my name." "You haven't been rude to me." What was she talking about? He'd lost track of the conversation somewhere. He hadn't been rude? He wasn't Kurt? Wait... she meant that he was not CURT! He smiled broadly and pointed at her. "You're making a pun! That's not fair Katzchen, English is not my first language. That would be like my making puns in German about your name." He thought he could like her. She was clever, funny... and cute. She tilted her head, confused by him in turn. "Katzchen?" He made a broad petting gesture in the air. "It means kitten." He'd called her that without thinking when he'd gotten her joke. Maybe she didn't like it. "Would you rather I used Kitty?" She smiled. "No, Katzchen is fine." She frowned cautiously into the room, and murmured, "I wish we could go somewhere else." He could agree with that, he certainly didn't want to join the others. And, she had said 'we', hadn't she? He realized with wonder, that she had. He wished he could take her to his rooms... "Let's try." His hand not holding the plate reached for hers, and he led her to the guard at the Hall's entrance. "Can we go somewhere else?" "Got red cards?" The both did. "Well, you can't go back to your dorms until curfew with those." No kidding, dummkopf. As if he wanted to get anywhere near the men's dorm, anyway. "You going together?" the guard said, with a slight emphasis on the final word. "Yes," he said, flushing from the shame of the man's prying. When the guard okayed the excursion, he could scarcely believe it. "Ja, thank you," he said, wanting to be gone before anyone could say otherwise. He wanted to return to his refuge with her, away from all the filthy minds that surrounding them. Mein Gott, was it so much to ask? She gamely stayed with him, but asked, "Where are we going?" "Someplace quiet and out of the way. My quarters." He thought she might object to the impropriety of it, but she didn't. After a pause she said, "You have separate quarters?" "They kept confusing me with the exercise equipment," he said, indicating the way back behind them. "Specifically a punching bag." He grimaced a little, remembering the smothering fear, blankets held over his head, too much weight on him, and the battering pain. "Oh," was her only answer. He stopped at his door and threw it open, then stepped back for the lady to enter first. She just stood there, only now starting to blush about the situation. Once again he could see how very young she was. "I promise to be a gentleman, Katzchen." He bowed slightly. She tried to shrug off her fear. "It's not like we didn't see enough stuff at the Social." She walked in, looked left and then right, and then waited for his lead. He put the plate on his rickety table. Perhaps a snack first, to make her more comfortable. From the fridge he got juice, meat and apples. His mother had made meals like this, back home. He helped her to sit, and poured them both a glass juice. He put some of the party cheese into a meat roll, added an apple, and he was all set. He picked up the roll, and saw she was just watching him, bemused. "Not hungry?" he asked. He was. He always got hungry when he was nervous. She picked up an apple. "Do you have anything without pork?" He thought about it, and offered her some bologna. She took a slice and took dainty bites, while he fed his hunger. "So what kind of jokes could you make in German from my name?" she said after he polished off a second apple. He stalled, while pouring another glass of juice, blushing. "Ah, well, even in English, I believe there are... other meanings for some of the words for 'cat'." She blushed, too. "How can you eat like that? Dinner wasn't that long ago." "I have a high metabolism," especially when he was nervous. "...and lots of activity means I need lots of fuel." True, every word of it. It was just not the whole truth. Well, she didn't look very hungry. "Are you done with the lunchmeat?" He stood and when she nodded, he placed a few apples on the table for later, and put the food away with dispatch, and the help of his tail. She stared at his appendage as it did the work of a hand. He smiled. He was so used to it he sometimes forgot how amazing it was. "Yes, it does come in handy at times," he said as he sat. It also betrayed his feelings. He kept it fully behind him as he sipped his juice, watching her eat her apple. It lashed back and forth jerkily, acting out the fidgeting he was otherwise suppressing. He had an opportunity here, but he didn't know if he should try for it. He wanted to do more than talk, and he had repaired the turntable. His tail tried to curl up in knots in sympathy with the actions of his stomach, and he stopped it with a snap to get out the kinks. Some of his tension must have showed on his face, because she was looking at him questioningly. No time like the present. He stood, and extended his hand to her. Softly he said, "Will you dance with me, Katzchen?" He steeled himself for disgust, anger, or if he was lucky, perhaps her polite refusal. But at least he'd had the courage to ask. "Dance? Here?" She wasn't turning him down, yet. She just... looked confused. What? Oh, she meant in the kitchen. He nodded over to the main room. "In there, actually." His courage was just about drained out, and it was starting to show in the quiver in his voice, and the shaking of his hand. She reached out back to him, and bestowed a caress on his hand. "Alright." She started to stand, and he leaped to attend, pulling out her chair. He took her to the main room, checking to see that the blankets that covered his makeshift back door were tightly closed. The between space could be drafty at times. The spool he used as a table was in the way, so he moved it. Then he crouched by his turntable, piling up several records he'd thought might be good to dance to. The record started, a solid mainstream dance band, and once again he reached out for her touch. She smiled and held his hand without any hesitation, and started to dance. He felt awkward with her. The feelings that flashed through his heart and his body as they moved together, hands lightly clasped, were beyond his ability to analyze. He was responding to her, aroused by her proximity, and yet he could only see innocent enjoyment in her eyes. He tried to remember his promise. He'd seen better dancers, but she knew some moves. Mostly she was having a hard time following his lead. "Relax, don't be so tense." He spun her about, so her back touched his chest, then away so they faced each other from the full length of their arms. They both stepped in, to the normal position. She smiled brightly, and he beamed back, not caring that his fangs showed. The record ended, and a jazz album started up, playing slow dance music. He pulled her closer, giving her time to refuse the suggestion. He held her waist, and she put her hand on his shoulder. In a way, this was more exciting than the fast dancing they'd done. She was closer to him, and he thought she was beginning to notice their closeness at last. He slipped his mind out of gear, and danced on instinct. Sometime, probably soon, the nightmare that was their reality would assert itself again. But until then he just wanted to be here, to be with her, to be doing this, with nothing else mattering at all. Softness pressed close to him, her chest against his, her face nestled into his neck. Oh, Gott, did she know what she was doing, and what she was doing to him? He tensed, ready for her to realize her mistake... but she only snuggled closer. But... she had to know who she was doing this with. Her forehead was pressed against his neck; her breath tickled the fur at the hollow of his throat. It was no mistake. He slid his hands around her to the small of her back, and his tail followed his embrace, holding them together. He leaned his lips down to the softness of her hair, and tried to ignore the throbbing of his erection. They were close, but they weren't plastered together, so maybe she wouldn't notice. She leaned her head back so she could see his face. Her tattooed cheeks bore a rosy flush that he knew was equaled only by his own. Oh, she'd noticed. He shrugged, and lowered his gaze. She would probably turn away from him, now. She shifted a little, rubbing her face against the fur of his neck. They moved as if they were one being, bound together by hands and tail, by their leaning weight, and by the jazz. A distant age later, the album side ended, replaced by another fast record. By unspoken accord they stopped, still standing close for a sweet moment. Then they pulled away, looking into each other's eyes. "I would like some water," he said huskily. "Would you, also?" "Yes, please," she said, following him into the kitchen. She leaned on the counter as he put ice into glasses, and poured water into them. He was thirsty, and the water cooled the heat that flushed through him. She laid the sweating glass against her forehead, and shivered before she drank. Maybe he wasn't the only one feeling the heat. The Big Band music played on in the next room, but they were more interested in their water, and each other at the moment. "Is it only that we are very lonely, and alone?" he wondered. "Maybe," she said. "Or maybe we see in each other a decent person. One that we would have liked had we met when we were free." He turned to face away from her, his mouth thinning. "If we had met before, mein Fraulein, you would have run screaming away from me, for I have always looked like this. Isn't that true?" He heard her glass placed on the counter, then her hands snaked around his slender waist and crossed over his chest, pulling him close to her. "It's true. I was shallow, sheltered, and spoiled; an academic overachiever and a Jewish American princess. And I would have run screaming from the nicest guy I have met in my whole life. I was just stupid that way." She was soft and warm against him. His tailed circled around one of her legs. "You are Jewish?" "Yeah. The only thing worse than being a mutant, is being a Jew and a mutant." "I don't mind. I am Catholic, but my Lord is Jewish." He turned within her grasp to face her, putting his forearms on her shoulders. "We have some time yet. I would like to dance some more." She smiled. "Me, too," and she pulled him back to the record player. The next album started before long, a compilation of the Andrew's Sisters. The boogie woogie war tunes were fast and fun, and the ballads were soulful. The two relaxed to the music, keeping a little tension between them, to fight the desire to melt into each other again. They weren't sure where that desire would take them, but they weren't ready to go there. At least, not yet. The stack of records finished playing, and they slouched on his battered couch in companionable silence. The ship's intercom activated, and a stern voice announced, "Fifteen minutes to Curfew." She sat up. "I don't know my way back." "I do, I'll take you." He walked into the kitchen with her, and tossed her an apple. "For later." "Can I have another? For my bunkmate Karla?" He smiled and handed her another. "For Karla. Tell her... tell her I said thank you." "I will." He led her out of the depths, and through the halls until she said, "Okay, thanks." He turned to her, eyes gleaming under his tousled hair. He snapped his heels smartly together, and reached for her hand. She let him take it, and he brought it up to his lips, and kissed it in a courtly manner. "Thank you for tonight, Katzchen." She blushed again, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, for the dancing, Kurt." He watched her hurry away. Two bamfs and some four-footed running later, he got to his room just before the five-minute warning. He nodded to the security guards he surprised as he slipped into his room. They secured his door for the night. He went to bed that night remembering the feel and the smell of her, and of her kiss on his face. Chapter Five Back to Fanfics Back to Series Index Back to Main Hall |