Cold Comforts
an X-Men story
by Liberty Belle
Romance was a hard game to play. There were steep climbs and pitfalls, heartache and constant uncertainty. Matters of the heart had sent more than a few men running for cover, although always they were destined to return to the battlefield for one more try.
For Kurt especially, the opportunity to jump whole-heartedly into the game of love was a rare treat, and each time it came his way he found himself bending over backwards for the pleasure of the opposite sex. Sometimes it meant a dozen roses, sometimes boxes of candy or moonlight serenades (and oh, but he was a terrible singer), and sometimes--as with his most recent crush--it meant midnight romps through Central Park in the rain.
Her name was Lily, and he was positive it was love.
Well... he had been positive last night, when she had spontaneously suggested that they romp hand-in-hand through the darkened park, pirouetting together beneath the white haze of the streetlamps, all while a cool spring rain drenched the earth around them. Wouldn't it be so romantic, Lily had mooned, and Kurt had all-too-eagerly agreed.
But this afternoon, after having delivered Lily safely to her warm, dry apartment, and taken the long route home with his fur still soaked, he was less inclined to invest in the 'love' theory. He was, in fact, looking back upon the idea with more than a little annoyance, and thinking to himself that Lily was simply going to have to find a different boyfriend--one who did not take quite so long to dry out after strolls through the rain.
Kitty cast him a look that was pure amusement as she stepped into the kitchen, the next morning, admiring his gargoylish perch upon the edge of the kitchen table. He was dry now, though the hair dryer had been going most of the night, and his jet black hair had a slightly more puffy coiffure than usual.
"It smells like a wet elf in here," she commented, turning her back on him to hide her grin, pretending to sort through one of the cabinets for her favorite mug.
"Nicht lustig," he responded to her, folding his arms and lashing his spaded tail. "Not funny, Katzen." His mood was battling between wry acceptance and true irritation, and even Kitty's gentle jibing was wavering the balance. She fished out her mug and side-stepped to the coffee pot, smiling at him over one shoulder.
"Don't be mad, fuzzy--I'm only teasing. I take it your date with Lily didn't go as swimmingly as planned."
Releasing his anger the X-men let his arms hang slightly, shaking his head so that the dark curls of his hair fell concealingly over his eartips.
"Ach, Keety, what can I do? She is such a delicate, lovely creature... such a beautiful woman, and yet..." Again he sighed, a sound so ponderous that it seemed misplaced in Kurt's usually winsome voice.
Kitty supplied gently, "...and yet such a ditz?"
He knocked the word around in his head for a moment, trying to connect it with its definition. Ditz... yes, that sounded about right. Glumly he agreed, "Ja. A ditz, as you say. That a woman should be so beautiful, and yet so... ditzy."
Carrying her newly filled mug towards the table, Kitty laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling as reassuringly as she could. Love was hard for most, but especially challenging for Kurt, and heartbreak was an expression she'd seen on his fuzzy face more than a few times.
"You'll find the right girl, Kurt. Just... keep your chin up."
Easier said than done, he mused, turning agilely on the table's edge so that he and his companion faced the same way. They sat in silence that way for several minutes, Kitty punctuating the quiet with periodic sips, and Kurt with only the soundless, wrinkling twitch of his nose. Several minutes had passed before he straightened his crouch somewhat, planting both hands at his knees as he blinked wide his yellow eyes.
"...Kurt?" Kitty paused over her mug, curious. He almost appeared to have reached an epiphany.
"Ich denke...," he began, then brought both hands cleanly to his face, closing his eyes and arching both brows high on his blue forehead. The sneeze that followed was wet and abrupt, issued with a damp, "Ich'HISSH!" into his palms. Keeping his hands in place he blinked open his eyes, murmuring muffledly, "Segnen sie mich."
"Bless you... What was that you said?"
A single, small sniffle and then he lowered his hands, smiling faintly to the other X-Man.
"Nothing, Katzen. I think, maybe, I'm needing some time to think about things with Lily."
Obliviously smiling she wiggled her fingers at him, watching as he leapt neatly backward and landed in a perfect crouch. Straightening, Kurt bent an arm across his stomach, bowing to her before he vanished into a cloud of billowing pitch.
"Ach!," he uttered in dismay, and stopped in the hallway's center, letting the prickling sensation of a sneeze overcome him all at once. It staggered him forward, and Kurt caught himself on his knuckles with a strenuous, "Ich'HISSH!"
The resulting spray had vanished by the time his eyes reopened, but he needed no visual proof to know that it had been wet, and ashamedly knuckled his nose as he caught a glance around the hall. It was a Saturday, and most of the mansion's residents were either out on the grounds or still fast asleep, absent for the rare delight of seeing Kurt Wagner succumb to the sniffles.
Straightening to his heels, keeping his wrist firmly pressed to his nose for good measure, Kurt moved a little more swiftly towards his room. He might have teleported the distance if not for fear of exacerbating his condition, and yet could not reach the doorway fast enough. How long did these things--these annoying colds-- last, anyway? It had been years since his last, in one of Germany's more miserable winters. Good cheer seemed to be his shield and armor against any kind of infirmity, but now, thanks to ditzy Lily and her midnight-walks-through-the-rain, he would have to suffer.
The door gave easily to him and he closed himself inside, leaping to his bedpost and perching neatly upon the wooden edge. The tickle of another sneeze, playful as a length of yarn dangled before a kitten, was at work in his sinuses, rooted too deeply for his hopeful nose-rubbing to do any good. Even as it spread downward, gaining purchase in his sensitive nostrils and flaring them in preparation, he held onto the faint hope that it was perhaps too much dust, or just the cold air, or--
"Ich--HISSH!"
It shuddered all through him, throwing off his balance, and Kurt fell across his bed in a resistless heap of blue limbs and tail.
Groaning faintly, more out of dread than actual discomfort, he rubbed the end of his nose with the knuckle of one finger. Not only was he going to be out a girlfriend, but he would have to suffer through a week of this, to boot.
Wasn't the hero always supposed to get the good end of the deal?
"Ich'HISH!" Quick, sudden. Unexpected. He caught it in the curl of his palm and went limp again, miserable just contemplating his misery. What more would he be forced to endure?
Kitty scanned the sitting room with her book tucked securely under one arm, taking inventory of those who had gotten here before her. A few students were commiserating over class work in a far corner, Rogue and Gambit were trading God-only-knew what kind of conversation by the fire, and Wolverine was giving a stern lecture to Jubilee about something to which she could only roll her eyes and crack her gum.
And there was her favorite fuzzy blue elf, too, defying gravity by crawling the library wall in search of something to read.
"Ich--HISSH!" He turned his face from the bookspines, looking helpless in prologue and then suddenly angry in release of a second, somewhat furious sneeze. "Ich'HISSH!"
"Has someone been forgetting to dust up there?" she inquired of him, strolling to the foot of the bookshelf and smiling, rocking lightly on the balls of her feet. The expression flagged somewhat as Nightcrawler looked down at her, his golden eyes heavy and his features open and slack. It was not an expression of clear recognition, but rather of someone who is not quite done sneezing an irritant fully from his nose. She watched him teeter for barely a second before re-assuming his shut-eyed, 'helpless' face, taking a breath, and sneezing again furiously.
"Ich'HEISSH! ...Ach!"
"Gesundheit! Am I saying that right?"
Releasing his grasp upon the wall, Kurt leapt down beside her, book in hand.
"Ja, 'Gesundheit'. We meet again, Katzen..."
"You make it sound so much more official. Has anyone ever told you that you sneeze in German?"
Blinking out of some momentary reverie, Kurt admitted slowly, "Nein, that is a new one on me--but maybe this is just because I am coming from Germany, where everyone sneezes in German."
Crossing her arms overtop her book, pinning it against her chest, Kitty smiled, "You sound like you're in better spirits than this morning..."
"I am afraid not. Well. Maybe a little--but only because I am finding the perfect book to curl up with."
She reached out, tilting his hand from the wrist in order to read the title.
"A Hundred Years of Solitude? Um..."
"Is fitting, no?" He sniffled, a little more noisily than he would have liked, and handed the book off to her as he fished a handkerchief from a side pocket. "Forgive me, liebling, if you would hold this...?"
Taking it slowly, watching him snap out the handkerchief, she murmured, "Sure--is everything OK?"
"Ja, I just must..." His breath hesitated, then fluttered in and out for a moment before managing to waver, "...niesen..."
"Niesen? What does that--"
"Ich'HISSH!" Kurt sneezed into the handkerchief, exhaling loudly afterwards and slowly reopening his eyes. Their glow was dimmer than a moment before, but visibly relieved. Kitty smiled wryly, though an undercurrent of concern softened her voice.
"...Well, I guess I know what 'niesen' means, now. I’m going to take a wild guess, and say that you’re not sneezing because you’ve got dust in your fur."
The handkerchief, after being neatly folded, was tucked back into his pocket, and the book removed from her hands. He smiled sheepishly, raking his three fingers back through his dark curls.
"I make this too obvious, ja?"
Kitty made a pinching motion with thumb and forefinger. "A hair."
Bowing to her again, in obvious precursor to an egress, the blue X-Man smiled his apology.
"I will make a better effort from now on, then, for you..."
"Ah-not so fast!"
BAMF
Damn it all. Too slow.
Coughing faintly as the brimstone dissipated, Kitty gave a nervous little glance over her shoulder. Just as she might have suspected, practically everyone was staring at her, wondering just what was going on between herself and... that cloud of smoke. Hmm. Okay... so Nightcrawler wanted to use his mutant powers to escape her mothering tendencies? Fine.
Romance was a game two could play. So was this.
With a miserable little groan Kurt put his hands to good work, using one to bunch the blanket more tightly around him, and the other to loft very delicately beneath the end of his nose-a touch that sometimes decided the fate of a coming sneeze.
This time the battle could go either way, and with his eyes narrowed to yellow slits and his fangs grimaced into view, he sawed his finger carefully back and forth, staving off the tickle migrating steadily down from his sinuses.
He almost had it... he might just be able to force this one to back down... His nostrils twitched and stilled, concentrating winning out on irritation...
And then Kitty phased unexpectedly through his bedroom door, overthrowing concentration altogether.
For Kitty Pryde, the moment was strangely satisfying. The blaze of molecular color that always greeted her eyes when passing through solid objects cleared to a vision of Kurt seated before his fireplace, a blanket clutched around him and a raised forefinger his only defense against another one of his funny sneezes. The moment that surprise splashed his face the battle was over, and Kurt pinched his nose without thinking, bottling up an attacking, "Hck-KNXT!"
"Gesundheit!" she said cheerfully, and he relaxed his eyes open, blinking muzzily.
"...Danke, Keety. You surprised me."
"So I see. I wouldn’t have interrupted you, but..." From behind her back she produced a cordless phone, giving it a little shake as she carried it over to him. In a whisper, more discretely than before, Kitty whispered, "I think its Lily."
His first impulse was to snatch eagerly for the phone, but Kurt curbed his enthusiasm at the last moment, nestling the phone, waxing casual, between shoulder and ear.
"Hallo?"
Private conversation or not, Kitty took her sweet time heading back to the door, pretending to take special interest in a little Bavarian goose egg that her friend had displayed on a table. Though one-sided, she garnered enough from Kurt’s end of the conversation to consider herself well-informed when he finally disconnected.
"So," she prompted, looking back over her shoulder. "You two seem to have made up..."
"Ja," he agreed, shrugging off the blanket and climbing to his feet, reaching for the black silk shirt and tailored jeans that had been tossed over his footboard. It wasn’t until he began to dress that Kitty took real concern.
"Wait a minute-where are you going?"
"Out, liebling," he answered, turning his back to her as he slipped into his shirt and buttoned it bottom-to-top. "There is a bistro she wants to be taken to."
"Now?" Starting forward, gearing up for a full-blown rant, Kitty hooked her hands at her hips. "In the state you’re in? Kurt-did you bother to mention to her that you’re sick?"
"Das?" he scoffed, gesturing dismissively towards his face. "Das is nothing. A minor inconvenience."
"Kurt--!"
He turned towards her abruptly, but where another man might have shown impatience, even annoyance at her intrusion, the candlelight yellow of Nightcrawler’s face was kind, and his indigo lips faintly smiling.
With his hands upon her shoulders he both soothed and reasoned, "It is easy for another man to make dismissals so carelessly, Katzen, but I do not have this luxury. Even forgiving them their prejudices, I must acknowledge that women do not particularly flock to me, nein?"
Her argument was losing steam, and she knew it, getting out only a weakly protesting, "But-", before his gentle reassurance interrupted her.
"She is-how did you say it?-a ditz, but tonight she is my ditz, and I am her fuzzy elf. You forgive me, Keety, ja?"
Folding her arms, grumpy, she agreed flatly, "Ja."
Kurt dipped towards her, pecking her cheek before turning her gently towards the door.
"Now. You are always welcome in my room, but not while I’m changing my pants."
"Just be careful, Kurt-promise me?" She let him usher her out, phasing through the door rather than fumbling with the knob. From the hallway, with her friend concealed within his room, she heard his chuckling voice respond.
"I promise, Keety. Do not worry."
It must have been midnight when the front doors finally opened, and the thunder of the storm grew briefly louder from beyond the mansion walls. Kitty turned away from her rerun of Taxi, flicking off the television by remote and rising from the sofa.
The shadow of the new arrival was thrown high upon the foyer wall, and although she could see only his silhouette, the short, wild hair and Germanic profile left no doubt in her mind as to its caster.
"Kurt?" she called, tucking her hands under her arms as she padded into the bath of the entryway light. "How did it go?"
The hope she’d been fostering for a healthy revitalization of Nightcrawler’s romantic life was squelched, merely at the sight of him, and Kitty had to make a conscious effort not to drop her jaw in disbelief.
His black hair, usually arranged in loose, springy curls atop his head, was bedraggled into many a wet squiggle, and the much shorter, indigo fur of his face was sleek and dark along the angles of his face, soaked from the rain. Both silk shirt and coat of him hung heavily with rainwater, yellow eyes and normally pert features downcast as he retreated from the storm.
"Oh, Kurt," she sighed, dropping her shoulders in an unconscious mimic of his posture. "Was it really that bad?"
"I’ve been dumped," he reported, and a wet curl of hair fell before one dim eye.
"...Oh no... Kurt... I’m so sorry."
"It was the best for both of us, she said." He sniffled, lightly swiping the tip of his nose before the dreaded inevitable happened. A weak expression surfaced on his face, fine nostrils reacting behind the upraised shield of his hand.
Kitty winced, wringing her fingers, and flinched in sympathy as the lithe mutant sneezed, utterly helpless.
"Ich’HISSH!"
His whole body seemed to react to it, and though she reached forward to steady him, Kurt caught his balance at the last possible moment.
"Kurt," she mewled, and his eyes upturned to her, flickering like candlelight within a jack-o-lantern.
"Forgive me, liebschin."
Stepping before him, wet-coat-be-damned, Kitty caught her friend in a hug, squeezing him as tightly as she could without threatening to phase herself through him. His first palpable reaction was surprise, then weary relief, and after returning the embrace the German-born X-Man indulged in the wonderful sensation of simply standing there, being hugged.
The moment was not complete, for Kitty, until she had pecked his blue cheek (still wet), and ruffled her fingers through his hair, rearranging the wet curls.
"I wish you hadn’t gone, Kurt."
"Believe me," he chuckled, regaining some of his fire. "Right now I am wishing the very same thing. But there is no worry... I will go to bed and sleep this off, and in the morning..." here his voice tapered, gaze trailing into the shadows of the hall where it lingered, lost. Kitty furrowed her brow at him.
"...Kurt?"
The firefly yellow of his eyes narrowed to squinting crescents, haloed softly in the hall light as his narrow nose twitched, and he assumed that same, helplessly suspended expression. Firmly Kitty grasped one side of his coat, beginning to peel him out of the sopping garment as he fought the first quivering inhalations of a sneeze. She slid it back from his shoulders, inverting the sleeves to get it free from his arms, and with his hands momentarily pinned back he was overcome, tight build seizing like a quick fist.
"IchHISSH!" The sound of his sneeze was wet, run together, the black straggles of his hair falling in a damp mess before his eyes. As he fought another tickle with the minute, rabbit-like twitching of his nose, Kitty silently slid the flat of her palm back through his hair, holding it away from the brilliant yellow eyes. Though his arms were now free, Kurt folded them against his chest, shivering against the chill of the air. As the sneeze steadily manifested they stood just like that: he shaking, and she patiently holding back his wet hair.
She saw the white flash of his fangtips as he gave a final, preparatory grimace, holding himself rigidly upright as his body clenched in place, head barely budging forward.
"HUSHHISSSH!"
This last sneeze seemed to have satisfied him for a little while, his eyes clearing immediately afterwards, tired but alert. Kurt sniffed, relaxing one arm to rub shyly at the blue tip of his nose.
"Unglaublich, K-keety, is it not?"
"What’s that?" she inquired softly, combing his hair back with all ten fingers, rearranging the wet squiggles as best she could behind his pointed ears. She had never seen him shiver so profoundly before and, taking his arm, began to lead him deeper into the house, towards the stairway that would take them to the dormitory second floor.
There was faint laughter in his voice as he let her help him-first to the landing, and then to the second floor, where corridors spanned in each of the four cardinal directions. Kitty hesitated before directing him towards his room, wincing each time a shiver would radiate through him.
"I am the unconventional hero, sweeping in at the first hint of danger, ready to rescue the fraulein in distress. I have survived the circus, angry mobs, Magneto’s worst, geschöpfe from every alternate universe... and yet I am bested by a little walk in the park."
Reaching his door, Kurt intercepted the knob with a twist from his prehensile tail, nudging it open so that Kitty could precede him. She seized the opportunity, hanging up his wet coat and hurrying to his cedar closet for fresh towels.
"It isn’t like it just happened, Kurt," she reasoned. "You had your heart broken-it would catch anyone unaware. Now get naked."
His head came up, the yellow of his eyes vivid behind the squiggles of black hair that had fallen across them.
"Vas ist das?"
Okay. He was precious. She sighed, snapping open a towel and bumping the closet door shut with her hip.
"You’re soaking wet, you’re sick-"
"Ich bin fein-"
"English!"
"I am fine, liebschin."
"I’ll believe it when you’re not dripping and shivering. Now." The towel-bearing hand was extended to him. "Strip."
Kurt looked down at himself, studying his clinging clothes before beginning to slowly unbutton his shirt. He sniffled.
"I can keep my pants?"
"I’ll think about it."
With increasing sniffles Nightcrawler shed the wet shirt, making Kitty turn her back while he climbed into a pair of tailored gray sweatpants. Perching himself in his trademark crouch upon the foot of the bed, he sat patiently as she draped a towel over his head, buffingbuffingbuffing at his dark curls.
She fretted as she worked, "I don’t want you to let her get you down, Kurt. When I said she was a ditz, I meant it, and she doesn’t know what she’s missing."
"Ja, ja," came his answer from beneath the ruffling towel. He lifted a hand under its edges, and his head bobbed sharply while she rubbed.
"Ich-HEISH!" A sneeze from beneath the towel.
"Bless you," came her reply, unhesitating. "And there are a million other women out there who would be lucky to-"
His covered head bobbed, "Ich-HESH!"
"--Bless you--," she continued rubbing, "have you in their company. It’s like I was saying before, you’re better off without her."
At last she seemed to think his hair was dry, and rather than removing the towel from his head, simply peeled it up so that his face was framed in a canopy beneath it. He was smiling at her, slit-eyed and drowsy in appearance, poised in preparation for the predictable third sneeze. Smiling crookedly, Kitty let the edges of the towel fall again, covering his face, and stepped back to watch.
Still perched in his perfect crouch on the footboard, face hidden beneath the drape of the towel, the German mutant wavered breathily for a few seconds, then bobbed his head down again, a little more exclamatory than before.
"IchHEISH!" There was silence and stillness for a few beats, and then Kurt’s mildly sheepish voice issuing from beneath the towel. "Verzeihen mich."
Stepping forward once again, taking the edges of his makeshift cowl in her fingertips, she peeled it up to reveal his face-one forefinger sawing back and forth beneath his nose.
"What does that mean?"
"Vas? Verzeihen mich?"
"Ja. I mean... ‘yes’."
"Is... ‘forgive me’." Taking her hand, brushing the towel from his head with a neat gesture of his wrist, he planted a kiss to her knuckles. "Keety, you are very kind to look after me, and I will try very hard to teach my heart what my head has already come to terms with."
Sitting alongside him, resting her rump on the footboard alongside where he so skillfully perched, she insisted, "Are you sure you’re not going to let her make you feel worse?"
"Ah," he chuckled, sniffled again, and used the able tip of his tail to scratch an itch on one side of his nose. "I can make no promises, Katzen, but I will try." Another sniffle, another rub-this time with a crooked knuckle.
There was something mildly dissatisfying about his promise, but there was also the possibility that she could make things worse by not letting him get any sleep. Leaning forward, placing a final small kiss upon his warm, wet cheek, Kitty accepted a parting embrace from her friend.
"I’ll let you rest," she said, withdrawing. His eyes followed her, fond and faintly amused, and he executed a cramped bow from his perch just before she phased through the door, vanishing from sight.
They might have blamed Storm for the unrelenting rains, but the X-femme denied having any hand in the sudden foul turn of the weather. Neither, unfortunately, would she agree to dispel it, letting nature take its course, in spite of its imposition upon many an afternoon plan.
Spirits were understandably low that morning, as those who had planned to venture lakeside sat glumly by the mansion windows, watching puddles bubble and pitch under the onslaught from above. Kitty, never one to be too put-off by the weather, was prepared to content herself with hot tea and a good book (okay, a trashy book), and a lazy afternoon spent stretched out on her bed.
The kitchen, as she slipped in with her mug at the ready, was crowded with scowling students, most of them trying to prepare Pop-tarts or toaster strudel as consolation to their foiled plans. Content to wait her turn, Kitty took up a spot alongside Rogue as the flame-haired X-Man watched from one far wall.
"They're like piglets at a trough, ain't they?", the belle drawled, shaking her head. Having no frame of reference for comparison, Kitty could only smile and shrug.
"I'll take your word for it. You don't seem too put-off by the weather."
"Nah--ain't worth it to get yourself in a twist. It'll just move on again, like everything else. What about you, darlin'? What are your plans for the day?"
"I thought I'd catch up on some quality reading," she beamed, removing her paperback from beneath the pinch of her arm and letting Rogue see the cover: a tawdry illustration of a busty woman in lace-up bodice being bent back in the bulging arms of a swarthy, piratish-looking fellow.
Rogue smirked good-naturedly, reading the title aloud, "Flames of Passion. Sounds like a real literary classic y’ve got there."
"Wanna borrow it when I'm finished?", she winked.
A peripheral flash of blue drew both their attentions to the doorway, where a familiar blue mutant was following the latest herd of students. His curly black hair was in the disarray of the newly-awakened, his eyes squinty and narrow in defense against the light. He wore the heather gray sweatpants from the night before, and a loose tee-shirt with the academy emblem across the front, but it was the miserable hunch of his shoulders rather than his attire that caught the two women off guard.
"Kurt looks awful," Rogue squinted. "You suppose he's comin’ down with something?"
"He had a cold when I left him last night... I hope it hasn't gotten worse."
Together they looked, and winced as Nightcrawler weakly caught his breath, and-- "HEISH!"--sneezed harshly into his palm. Rogue voiced perfectly the sentiment that crossed Kitty's mind.
"Uh-oh."
"...I'm gonna go look after him."
"All raht, darlin'. If you need anythin'..."
Leaving behind the well-wishings of her teammate, Kitty moved to Kurt's side, touching his arm and rousing him from his sniffling vigil over the coffee pot.
"Kurt?", she inquired carefully and he turned, eyes flickering like a low candle. For all his apparent misery he mustered himself to a tired, fanged smile.
"Leiblig," he replied, nose thoroughly stuffed. Even the sniffle that succeeded this did nothing to ease his congestion, and he closed his eyes and mouth as he contained a few small, tight coughs. "I have odly cub for some coffee." Sniff.
"You sound terrible--I thought you were getting better."
"Believe be, lipschid, doe-wud is quite so dizappoided as I." Sniff. He looked to the coffee pot, frustrated by its slow drip, and attacked the very tip of his nose with a small, coarse rub. Kitty's eyes on him were like lead weights and, like the cold, he couldn't seem to shake them. Her hand at his wrist gave a tug, and he looked down.
"Come with me," she commanded, not for the first time lighting his expression with surprise.
"Vas?"
"You're coming to bed, and we're doing this the old fashioned way. Whatever you need from the kitchen, I'll bring it to you."
"But surely--"
"No backtalk, elf," she stopped him, pressing a fingertip to the end of his nose so that he was obliged to cross his eyes and focus on it. He sniffed, looking back up at her as she added, smirking, "And don't call me Shirley."
Taking care of a sick Nightcrawler was a challenge in and of itself. Not because he was a bad patient (truthfully, Kitty could not have asked for anyone more kind or gently enduring of her fumbling ministrations), but there was a fine line between making sure he was comfortable, and simply loitering around him because he looked cute and vulnerable.
It was a real change to see him truly under the weather, for usually there was no one more gregarious or playful than her favorite fuzzy blue elf. Now, perched again on his footboard, his body was bound tightly in a white blanket, and he watched her pace, disturbing the quiet with only the occasional sniffle.
Kitty guided her hand up under his dark hair, laying it flat to his forehead and letting him shiver as she gauged his temperature. There was a fever there, to be sure, but not drastic, and probably not anything that a few aspirin couldn’t cure, but it still didn’t put her at ease. She wanted to see him joking, flashing his eyes at her in that shamelessly flirting way.
After fetching a thermometer from the bathroom, Kitty directed, "Open," and listened for the quiet click of his fangs as his mouth closed around it. "Kurt," she fretted, reaching for the puddled fabric around his shoulders and bringing it up like a cowl around his head. "I don't ever remember you being this sick."
It was a challenge to speak around the little glass rod, but he sniffed carefully and answered, "Truth be known, liebling, I do not remember it myself."
And it was not an exaggeration. Of all the various maladies that made the rounds at the Academy--the summer colds, the flus, the earaches, the chicken-pox--Kurt was always the one who cheerfully avoided every conceivable means of infection, as if his good humor was his blanket of protection. The nearest she could remember him being to infirmity had been last summer, when they had been enjoying an afternoon of horseplay and swimming at the lake. He had climbed with such ease from the water, inverting himself by his tail from one of the branches that overhung the water, and had watched with his white, fanged smile as the other X-men sunbathed or splashed beneath him. Kitty had been by Rogue on the dock, squinting at him in faint, smiling amusement, and had been surprised to see him cover his face with his odd, tridactyl hands. Upside-down he had sneezed hard enough to set himself rocking very slightly, with a "KSCHT!" that had been audible, even above Scott and Jean's childish laughter.
His hands had lowered again, getting only a short distance before his lips twitched from his white eyteeth with a flinching little grimace, and he sneezed helplessly into the open air--a face-scrunching, "KSCHT!"
"Kurt's sneezing," she'd commented to Rogue, who had not been interested enough to actually pick her head up from her towel.
"Ain't that surprisin'. He's been in that water all day... probably payback for inhaling too much water." At last lowering her sunglasses to the end of her nose, the belle had called out, "How many is that, 'Crawler?"
"Just two."
The German-born X-Man had swung himself upright by this time, walking with acrobatic ease along the length of the branch before dropping back into the water with a splash. Kitty, watching his blue form move fluidly under the sun-dappled surface of the lake, had looked at her friend.
"...Why did you ask him that?"
"B'cause--Ack!"
The two women had recoiled from the edge of the dock as Kurt breeched with a tremendous splash, showering them, and hopped himself expertly onto the planks. A hand had pushed the sopping curls from his face... his grin was incorrigible.
"Because," he'd answered for Rogue, the slight chatter of his teeth greatly accentuating his accent. "I cannot sneeze vonce wissout sneezing sree times."
Kitty--by then dripping--had smirked. "You're very weird, Kurt."
"I cannot deny the facts, Katzen," he'd grinned back, and then the expression had begun to waver. Rogue had laid back again, replacing her sunglasses.
"There it is. Toldja'."
In spite of the inevitability of a third sneeze, Kurt had wrinkled his nose and rubbed at his upper lip with a forefinger, attempting to ward it off. The picture of her fuzzy blue elf trying not to sneeze had been too precious for words, and so of course she hadn't done anything to help him either way. Eventually the irritation of whatever water he'd unintentionally inhaled became too much for even the wrinkle of his fine German nose, and he had turned his lean body away from them, releasing the most potent of the three--a distinctly Nightcrawlerish, "Ich--HISSHhhhaaah..."
"Bless you, 'Crawler," Rogue had sing-songed, and Kitty had chimed in a half-beat later: "Bless you, Kurt." His sheepish, mischievous smile had made her shiver, in spite of the sun.
"Has it been sree minutes?", Kurt asked hopefully, now, looking up her, his eyes glowing under the shadows of his crude blanket-cowl. Emerging from reverie, Kitty took the thermometer from his mouth and tilted it to the light.
"99.8," she reported, then shook it out with a light snap of her wrist. "Pretty mild... that's a relief, at least."
"Ja, at least," he said tiredly, closing his eyes as he remained perched there.
"Kurt," she lamented, reaching for his face and holding it lovingly between her hands. "What can I do for you? I'll make you tea, I'll light a fire... but I've never seen anyone so floored by a cold before. I don't know what to do."
His hand reached up, laying overtop her own as it cradled his cheek.
"Liebschen, there is nothing you can do."
"There must be," she insisted, beginning to feel tears of frustration prickling the backs of her eyes. He was one of her best friends, and the dearest man she had ever met... how could she not help him when he was obviously so miserable? Kurt removed her hand from his face, kissed its back, and adjusted his blanket enough to fall backward onto his bed.
"Perhaps some sleep, Keety," he replied, keeping the blanket over his head as he lay there. His tail, ever his helpful third hand, snaked to the bedside table, curled around the tissuebox stashed there, and placed it before him on the bed. It even expertly tore out a tissue for him, delivering it to his hand as he nestled it around his nose and blew as quietly as possible. The care he took in distancing himself from her, purposely removing any sense of responsibility from her shoulders, only frustrated Kitty more.
"Kurt, I," she began, then finished with a sigh, dropping her arms depressedly to her sides. "...Fine. Have it your way."
His yellow eyes followed her as she retreated to the door, phasing through with only the faintest whisper to mark her passing. Sighing, his tail grabbed one corner of the blankets, pulling them over his head as he stole another tissue from the box.
"I hate men," Kitty complained, watching the stream of hot tea slosh into her empty mug, and then abate as Rogue turned to fill her own.
"Shugah, I was sayin' the same thing to myself just the other day." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "Actually, I was sayin' it to Remy, too..."
"How do you deal with it, Rogue? When Remy gets sick? I mean... are they all so thick-headed and independent?"
"At first," she agreed, settling across from her at the kitchen counter, and beginning to stir spoonful after spoonful of sugar into her tea. "But then as soon as they know they've got your attention they're just a bunch of babies." She sipped, grimaced, and added a few more spoonfuls. Kitty shook her head, perplexed.
"It makes no sense... I've tried make him comfortable, but Kurt just acts like he's miserable and alone up there. Why is he like that?"
Suckling on her spoon, Rogue replied slowly, "Maybe it's all in his upbringing, shug."
"Huh? How do you mean?"
"Well, most men like bein' taken care of because their mommas babied 'em when they were little. But Kurt never had that... his momma abandoned him, so when he got sick, I'm bettin' he was pretty much on his own. Plus with Lily dumpin' him like you said she did, I ain't so surprised he's feelin' low."
It all came upon Kitty like an epiphany, and if she hadn't suddenly been suffused with purpose, she might have smacked herself for not having realized it sooner.
"Rogue... I have to make it up to him."
"How you plan on doin' that, shug?"
Her eyes scanned the kitchen, then returned abruptly to the other X-Man. "Is there any of that tea left?"
She'd gotten good at phasing through solid objects with items in tow, but even so Kitty wasn't convinced she could make it through his bedroom door with her current handful. Instead, balancing the tray precariously on her hip, she twisted the knob and let the door creak slowly open.
A sniffle from within, a soft cough. He was still awake.
"Kurt," she called quietly, then let herself into the dimness, shutting the door after her. The fire was still going from earlier, and its light gilded the room warmly, illuminating the German-born acrobat as he lay atop his coverlet, draped in a blanket. Only his eyes, bright yellow, were exposed, his nose sniffling again quietly from beneath his quilt.
"Keety?" Seeing that she'd brought him something he sat up a little, taking stock of the items on her tray. "Vas is dis?"
"Things for you. Take off that blanket and get under the covers." She set the tray on the nightstand, removing items from it, and noticed as she glanced aside that he was staring at her in confusion. Her brows arched. "What did I just say?"
No need to tell him twice. Though he was dying to question her, he removed himself from his quilt and climbed under the sheets and covers of his bed, sliding his tail in last as he arranged his body comfortably beneath. Still his eyes followed her, bright and curious a Halloween cat's, nostrils sporadically flaring for split-seconds at a time, each time he sniffled.
Seating herself alongside him, tucking her legs beneath her, Kitty reached out to lay her hand against his forehead. Though in truth he was neither warmer nor cooler than when she'd last left him, she let a furrow of concern deepen the shadows of her brow, and murmured over him, "You're burning up, Kurt... here..." Her hands retrieved from the tray a wet cloth, wringing it out before laying it gently in place of her hand, cool against the short, soft indigo fur. His shadowy face was all eyes, as if mesmerized by the touch.
He answered in an almost disbelieving hush, "...Sank you..."
"I brought some soup and tea in a couple thermoses," she said. "In case you're hungry later. But now I think you need to rest." Also from the tray was produced a red bottle and teaspoon, the latter of which was filled with the viscous contents of the former. "And this, too... it will help you feel better."
"Must I?", he asked, grimacing very slightly at the thought, though a stern look from her cowed him back to into accepting quiet. Gently she slid her hand to the back of his head, helping to elevate it as he accepted the medicine and--appropriately--shuddered at its taste. "Iss terrible."
"I know, but it's good for you. I'll give you a little more, later on, if you still can't sleep."
In marveling silence he gazed up at her, sleepy and content beneath the quilt as she rearranged it overtop him and removed the cloth from his brow. Upon the cool, damp fur between his eyes she placed a soft kiss, then gently pressed her own forehead to his, feeling him exhale, softly shivering, beneath such tenderness. His eyes were closed when she slowly withdrew, mouth almost grimly firm.
"I'm going to go refresh the fire a little," she told him, rising from the bed's edge. "I'll be right back, OK?"
His voice was nearly non-existent in the crackling quiet, "...Ja."
A log was added to the fire to sustain it, and Kitty brushed her hands off before returning to him, finding Nightcrawler with damp streaks in the indigo fur beneath his eyes, where rivulets from the wet cloth could not have run. Two small, quick gestures were made beneath each eye as he saw her return, and then one beneath his nose, with an especially prominent sniffle. She considered drawing attention to his tears, then vetoed the idea.
"There... that wasn't bad, right?", she smiled softly, again touching his face. Taking from the nightstand the tissue-box he'd been using earlier, she pulled out several in a row and passed them to him. "Here, mein liebling," she said, trying to get the pronunciation just right, having heard him use the endearment upon her more times than she could count.
Kurt took them slowly, and though he began to inch himself upright Kitty stopped him with a touch to his arm.
"No, wait. Here..." Sitting on the bed again, propping herself onto the pillows, she guided him down against her, until he sank in limp gratitude with his head in the warm place between her shoulder and breast. There was a small tremor through him before he brought the cluster of tissues to his face, holding them there like a white carnation before quietly but soundly blowing his nose. When finished, his hand curled around them again, heavily-lidded yellow eyes gazing into the gloom and fire.
"That must feel better, after all that sniffling you were doing," Kitty commented, letting one arm encircle him as he snuggled his cheek against her, nuzzling like a sick child seeking comfort.
"Mmm," he agreed, but wrinkled his nose for the duration of a few seconds. His knuckle rubbed at the tip, and Kitty watched his eyes come open again. "I sink...," he began, and his breath fluttered. The first sneeze came on him so suddenly that he barely had enough time to turn from her, the length of his athletic form seizing sharply in place, once again like the abrupt squeeze of a fist. The firelight gilded a fine aerosol as he released a completely helpless, "ICHEISH!"
There was usually a few moments pause before the second one came upon him, and Kitty kept her arm gently around him as he grimaced his fangs into view, wavering with a mounting, "...Hhh... Eh-hhh...." And he sneezed in place again, viciously, clenching up slightly as the wet sound of it slapped at the air. "ICHEISH!" In weak surprise a moment later he bleated, "Ach."
"Gesundheit.", she crooned, letting him sink his head against her once more, the end of his tail emerging from the blankets, sawing back and forth beneath his nose.
"Danke."
He was quiet for nearly thirty seconds before Kitty detected the wavering sound of his breathing, and before she could inquire if he was all right, he was covering his face in both hands, shuddering against her with a sudden, strangled, "Ach---Ich'HISH!"
"Gesundheit again!"
The sniffles were back, and his tail retrieved the carnation bunch of tissues, holding it against his nose as he blew--much more gently than before. "Ach du leiber," he lamented. "Forgive me, Keety... I should not be monopolizing your time like thi--"
Her fingertips fell to his lips, silencing them, and Kurt looked up at her, the yellow of his eyes shining in a faint halo against his cheeks.
"You're not monopolizing me. I came here because I wanted to, and I care about you, and was worried about you.
He could only stare, wondering. Gently her arms wrapped around him again, holding him against her as she planted a row of small, soft kisses from one temple to the other, her fingertips brushing back his dark curls. The X-Man's eyes began to weight shut, lulled by her touch, though the thinnest gold crescents remained open and visible in the dimness of the room.
Kitty was surprised when she felt him give a short but violent tremble in his arms, and heard him puff out a gasping, "Pfthhhh...." immediately afterwards. It took her a split second to realize that he'd pinched his nose shut to hold in a sneeze, and debated between scolding him and teasing him. Teasing won out.
"Ah-ha-ha---that was a fourth!"
"Vas?", he inquired, again looking up at her. His expression was laced with amusement.
"You always sneeze three times, isn't that right? Well, that was a fourth sneeze... so you broke form."
"Nein, not necessarily," he smiled. "I cannot sneeze once wissout sneezing again, twice more--"
It hit her and, feeling silly, Kitty completed, "Which means you're going to sneeze another two times."
"I am like German clockwork in zis respect, nein?" He knuckled his nose, making a face.
"Don't you dare hold it in again," she warned.
The medicine was beginning to take effect, at last, and although he knew the wisdom of her words he merely agreed with an enduring, "Ja, ja..."
Kitty watched him, just to be sure, reaching her free hand for the blankets and pulling them up to the base of his neck. Again his tail, helpful, slid free from the covers, and the cane-hook bend of it was worked back and forth beneath his nose. He sniffed... sniffed again, and Kitty snatched her hand for the tissues, guiding them over his nose and mouth just as he was helplessly grimacing with the coming sneeze. A wavering breath through his nose fluttered the thin tissue paper under her hand, and he clenched again, overwhelmed, as he finally sneezed.
"Ich--CHISCH!"
"Gesundheit."
"Ach," he bleated again, and took the opportunity to wrinkle his nose as both her hand and his tail held the tissues firmly in place. "Zis is the one sat never comes..."
"Can I help?"
"Nein, it... wait." His tail uncurled and wrapped around her wrist, gently removing her hand. After giving a preparatory sniff he laid his head back, using his arrowpoint tailtip to stroke slowly and precisely beneath his nostrils, furthering the usually tricky sensation of a sneeze. He wasn't sure it would work, but was rewarded by a tiny prickling in his nostrils, and felt himself grimace as it washed over him unexpectedly.
Kitty brought the tissues gently back over his nose and mouth as his tail curled out of the way, keeping her arm firm about his shoulders as he wrenched against her again, sneezing just as hard as he could--a muffled but powerful, "Ich--ICHEISH!"
"Ach," he said said, weakly this time, as his head laid back again. Kitty removed the tissues after a careful touch to his nose and upper lip, tossing them into the bedside wastebasket and letting her friend cuddle himself unashamedly against her. Both arms encircled him tightly, holding him against her as he let the medicine take effect, lulling him ever more surely towards sleep.
"Keety," he murmured some time later, when her cheek was close to the downy warmth of his own, and their ankles were tangled together.
"Mein liebling," she murmured back, and felt him smile against her.
"Sank you. For everything."
Gently she kissed his temple, toyed her fingertips through his dark, curly hair, and snuggled more closely with her furry blue elf.
"You're welcome," she answered, and fell with him into fast slumber.
The End
Characters, situations, etc, belong to their creators.