"Just Between Friends"
by FyrDrakken <FyrDrakken@juno.com>
Rating: R/NC17 for sex.
Archive: X-Men Movie Fanfic Archive, all others ask first. (The answer will no doubt be yes — I'm easy! — but I like to know who's got my stuff!)
Classification: Character development and smut, immediately followed by angst
Character note: This is only movie-based fic by the widest possible definition, since the main characters are a girl who had one speaking line in the first movie and a guy who wasn’t there at all. (Needless to say, the backstory I was using for Kurt here will be jossed by his appearance in the second movie!)
Series: Taking place in the same continuity as "Practice Makes Perfect," although some months afterwards.
Disclaimer: Lots of corporations like Fox and Marvel hold more rights in the characters and settings I'm playing with than I do. But I'm even more broke than Marvel, so I'm not worth the time and trouble of suing... The only "profit" I'm getting out of this is getting the demons out of my head without resorting to my family's traditional substance abuse, serial marriages and/or self-mutilation...
Feedback: Questions, comments and snide remarks directed to <FyrDrakken@juno.com> will receive guaranteed responses. Messages sent to a list may go unnoticed indefinitely, me being on so many now that I've had to go "no mail" on most of them. ;-) As an Elitist Fic Bitch in good standing, I welcome constructive criticism -- if there's a problem in something I've written I *really* want to know about it so I can fix it!
Thanks: To jenn, for nagging me to finish this and convincing me that I wasn’t the only one being haunted by images of a blue-velvet-covered washboard tummy, mmm... :Ahem: Also to the Dr. Pepper Bottling Company and the Ronrico Rum Company. My normal beverage of choice when writing smut is cocoa, but for some fic the Swiss Miss just ain’t gonna cut it. On *those* nights I need to mix the defining cola flavor of my skanky tasteless native city of Dallas with an 80-proof Puerto Rican kick... (As if I could actually write furry porn *sober*!) And to Bree for help with the minimal amount of German I used. (If I messed it up, it’s Babelfish’s fault, not hers!)
Note:
[ ] = Thoughts
* * = Emphasis
( ) = Translations or parenthetical remarks
* * *
"Just Between Friends"
by FyrDrakken
* * *
"You are probably my best friend, Fuzzy, you know that?"
"There was any doubt?"
— Kitty and Kurt, EXCALIBUR #83, by Warren Ellis
* * *
"Come in!" came the response to the knock.
Kitty stuck her head in, not bothering to open the door first. "Is Peter here?"
"No, they’ve already gone." Peter and a few of the other oldest students had been taken off to some undisclosed location for a few days for generalized "survival training" and random assorted outdoorsy torment, to be inflicted by Logan. Kurt, having managed to postpone his own woods indoctrination, had the room to himself for the weekend.
"Kurt? Could I ask you something?"
"Of course, Katzchen."
"Has Peter said anything — about me — lately? Different, I mean?"
It’s sometimes difficult to read the expression on an upside-down face, but Kitty didn’t have to, because Kurt dropped to the floor at her question. For him to leave his preferred perch (hanging by tail or toes from the modified jungle gym affixed to the ceiling), he must have been concerned. "Are the two of you — having a problem?"
"I’m not sure." Realizing that if they were going to get into an actual conversation she might as well come in, Kitty walked the rest of the way through the door — still without opening it. "We haven’t been talking as much lately. That’s the problem."
"Have you asked him about it?"
"No, I — I’m half afraid he’ll *tell* me... Or maybe there isn’t a problem, and I’m just getting sensitive. Or maybe he’s just getting bored with me..."
"Not that, Katzchen — never that." The eyes may have been an eerie shade of yellow — but they were warm and sympathetic.
"It’s sweet of you to say that, but — things change. People grow apart, stop wanting to be together as much — or at all..."
"You worry too much. Peter is worried about joining the team. He wants to prove he can do it, wants to pay back the Professor for all he’s done. He has a great deal on his mind."
"And I’m not as important."
"I didn’t say — "
"I’m still one of the *kids*, one of the *students*, and he’s going on to be an X-Man. I’m too young for him," she finished miserably, seating herself on the nearest bed.
Kurt sat down next to her. "Your age has nothing to do with it. He’s just busy. Do *you* have a great deal of time to spend with your friends before finals?"
"Age has *everything* to do with it! When I take my finals, my friends are all doing them too. We study together, and we know we’ll be in classes together next term. Peter is getting done with being a student here — he’s moving up and I’m stuck here."
"Ah. And you don’t think he’ll want to spend time with his old friends — or with you?"
Kitty shrugged, writhing in misery. "Why should he? He’s moving on to be with the grown-ups, and the rest of us are still kids."
Kurt rested a hand on her shoulder. "Joining the team is a big step, and I won’t say it isn’t. But he will still be the same Peter. Why should he stop caring for the people who meant so much to him before?" He rubbed her arm soothingly.
"Maybe because he finally started noticing how much younger I am?" Kitty’s eyes had gone suspiciously bright.
"Four years is not that great a difference."
"It’s big enough." Her eyes had gone from bright to definitely tearful. "He’s gonna start going around with the other adults, and taking college classes, and maybe even starting *teaching* here," — a few tears had begun to escape — "and I’m *stuck* here, for another year at least."
"You said it yourself, Katzchen — only another year and then you graduate. You may not join the team just then, but you’ll be in college, too." Kurt gently brushed a tear off her cheek with his thumb. "He’ll wait for you."
He realized his mistake as soon as the tears went from a slow trickle to full blast. "But what if he *won’t*?!" was the cry before Kurt found himself with an armful of sobbing seventeen-year-old. "He’s going to be surrounded by all those college girls — "
"Katzchen — "
" — and he’s so neat, such a great guy — "
"Katzchen, don’t — "
" — and strong and handsome — "
"*Katzchen*!"
" — and artistic and sensitive — "
"*Katzchen*, PLEASE!"
" — and foreign and exotic — "
"Don’t *worry* — "
" — they’ll be all over him and I can’t compete with girls like that!"
The litany thankfully wobbled to a halt, though the sobbing continued unabated. If anything, it grew worse, freed from the constraints of allowing enough air intake for semi-coherent speech. Kurt rubbed Kitty’s back soothingly, while fumbling for something to say. By the time the damp patches she was making on his shirt had soaked through to his fur and the skin beneath, he had found a new tactic.
"Katzchen, of *course* you can compete. You’re intelligent and kind and bright and funny — and those don’t get any more common with age, even in college."
"But not beautiful?"
"What?!"
"You said all the personality stuff but not that I’m even pretty — let alone beautiful. Whenever someone says a girl’s got a great personality, they mean she’s not much to look at."
Kurt sighted. "Katzchen, Katzchen, you’re pretty. Beautiful. Nice to look at. Happy?"
"You’re just — just saying that because I brought it up. To make me feel better."
Kurt pulled away slightly to look her in the eyes. "Did you really expect *me* to judge a person on *how they look* FIRST?!" There was an ironic light in the flame-yellow eyes.
Kitty blushed and lowered her gaze. "Sorry." She absently wondered when the change had occurred — when she herself had stopped noticing the odd shape and coloration first thing whenever she looked at him, and had started just seeing *Kurt*. Maybe it had been that Saturday he and she and Marie and Peter and Jubes had sat around watching the entire _Star Wars_ trilogy back-to-back-to-back while playing some drinking game that Bobby had found online, going through an entire twelve-pack of Jolt cola. Maybe it was the afternoon that the oldest students had challenged the teachers to a baseball game, where Kurt had displayed unsuspected talent at pitching and actually managed to strike both Logan and Scott out. Maybe it had even been the night the pair of them managed to accidentally scare each other silly — Kurt hadn’t been expecting Kitty to come ghosting through the wall into the rec room any more than she’d been expecting to find someone hanging from the ceiling in a room that at first glance appeared deserted.
"It’s all right." He didn’t laugh, but behind him she could see his tailtip curling from side to side — amusement, in Kurt-speak. It stilled, as he became serious again. "Katzchen, if Peter’s too blind to see what he has in you, then you’re much better off without him. Because any man with the sense to see you as you really are would never want to let you go."
"Really?" Her eyes had gone wide, soft and wondering.
"Really."
"*Any* man?" The tear streaks added to her sheen of innocence, belying some of the implications of her question, making what might have appeared a coquettish gambit seem bare of all artifice.
And with those dark wondrous eyes meeting his and those soft lips still parted with her question, there really seemed to be only one truly honest answer to give.
And those lips really *were* as soft as they looked, and she did *not* push him away (as he had feared and expected she would).
And the realization that this was highly inappropriate behavior to be engaging in with a good friend’s girlfriend was very dim and distant, taking far too long to reach his attention. It was frankly becoming very difficult to think of anything beyond the girl in his arms...
On Kitty’s part, the initial startlement at the unexpected kiss rapidly brought home the point that this was *not* her boyfriend. That this was *not* Peter, who had grown rather distant and preoccupied in recent weeks. That this *was* Kurt, who had been saying such tender things to her and letting her cry on his shoulder mere minutes before, and who was actually more than a little intriguing.
Because the topic *had* come up, oh yes, in the late nights when the three roommates had some of their most interesting gossip sessions. Kitty had herself expressed the idea that Kurt needed a girlfriend, at which point Jubilee had been rather mockingly dismissive. "Good *luck* finding one who doesn’t mind the *fur* — not to mention all that *blue*... It’d be like fucking a Muppet!"
Rogue, however, had supported the idea. "I don’t know — all that fuzz looks velvety to me, and he’s really pretty good-looking once you learn to ignore the blue."
"Hah, Rogue, maybe the fur would protect him from your skin! He might be perfect for you..."
But Rogue didn’t seem too keen on the idea, despite Kitty’s efforts to get her to consider the matter fairly. Jubilee, unimpressed with Kurt’s appeal, had applauded Rogue’s taste in rejecting him out of hand, despite the fact that it had been her own idea that he might be Rogue-proof.
Of course, to be Rogue-proof he’d have to be furry *everywhere*. And as Kitty was learning first-hand, not only his lips but his palms as well were bare of that super-short seal-like covering.
It was a startling realization indeed that — unless matters were brought to a halt — she might be about to find out where else Fuzzy might be less than fuzzy.
Was that what she wanted? It was an idea worthy of careful consideration. *Did* she want to do this?
Except that to consider the matter properly, she’d need to stop what they were doing and pull away to let her head clear — and right now she was enjoying the lips against hers, the hands caressing her back, *far* too much to want to stop.
So instead she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her hands against his back. When he responded by pulling her even closer, she began sucking on his lower lip. He made a soft, almost urgent sound in his throat, but when she slid her tongue along his lower lip, he pulled away.
"Don’t — you’ll cut yourself," he murmured, face still so close to hers that she could feel his breath against her lips.
So that answered *that* lingering question — just how sharp *were* those lengthy canines (oh, just say it, *fangs*)? The answer apparently being, "very."
"I’ll be careful," she whispered, before bringing her lips back to his and running her tongue oh-so-cautiously along the inside of his lower lip again, keeping well away from his eyeteeth. He allowed the caress once, then began massaging her tonguetip with his — not-so-incidentally keeping her tongue away from his teeth, she was distantly amused to note.
It was a gesture typical of Kurt — gentlemanly even when someone was trying to stick her tongue down his throat. Kitty rubbed her hands down his back fondly, before lifting the tail of his shirt and sliding her hands beneath.
Mmm — Rogue had definitely called it right. Velvety soft — but hard-muscled beneath. This wasn’t a body she was minding being pressed against at all. She would mind it even less if the layers of clothing separating them were removed.
But the hands sliding over his bare skin — bare fur, rather — had reminded Kurt of the beckoning transgression. "Katzchen — is this what you want?"
"Mm-hmm." Lips parted from his for the moment, she rubbed her cheek against his jaw, delighting in the feel. Fuzz beat stubble any day, as far as she was concerned.
"What — what about Peter?" Which was an oblique fashion of referring to the moral dilemma they found themselves in, but right now Kurt was having difficulties in phrasing things any more specifically.
"This isn’t *about* Peter. This is about *us*." Which was true as far as it went, but which also glossed over the ethics of the situation.
But right now ethical considerations were taking a back seat to the purely physical. Having established to his own satisfaction that Kitty *was* willing, any questions beyond that were currently unwelcome distractions at best.
Kurt allowed Kitty to lift his shirt, sliding it up and then removing it entirely, before he slipped his hands beneath her own shirt. He was slow in removing the garment, giving her time to object or to request a slowdown, but when she happily pressed her bared skin against his chest he wasted no time in removing her bra. He kissed her again, finding one breast with a hand and discovering the nipple already erect when he touched it. The one arm around her to hold her close, the other hand cradling her breast, his thumb rubbing gently around and around her nipple, he began kissing his way down along her throat.
Kitty rumpled his dark-dark-blue hair happily. When he reached her chest he began alternating the light kisses with brushes of his cheek and jaw against her skin. Kitty leaned back onto the bed, pulling him down with her, as he started needing to bend down further than seemed comfortable. Kurt rested his elbows to either side of her waist to support his weight as he continued to work his way down to her breasts, leaving his legs half-hanging off the edge of the bed next to hers.
The position brought something else to Kitty’s attention as she studied her new lover — his tail was curving in a slow repetitive undulation she had never seen before, adding a new item to the vocabulary of "tail-speak" that she (along with the rest of Kurt’s friends) had been building in the year he’d spent at the school. It was really pretty cute. She refrained from giggling — something she’d learned that males for some bizarre reason rarely appreciated in a sexual setting. Instead, she ran her hands down his back again, from shoulders to hips, hooking her thumbs into the beltloops of his jeans.
Kurt had reached her breasts and began covering them with an unpredictably random assortment of kisses, cheek strokes and careful licks. When Kitty grabbed him by the pants, he paused and looked up to meet her eyes. Shifting his weight over to one elbow, he reached for her zipper, glancing to her face again to check for approval. Satisfied by what he saw, he returned his attention to her jeans, undoing button and zipper. Kitty started to kick off her shoes, and found herself being unexpectedly aided — Kurt’s feet weren’t as dexterous as Hank’s, but they were more than equal to the task of gently pulling off her sneakers and socks. Obstacles cleared, he began pulling her jeans down. She lifted her hips to help get them past her rear, pulling her lower legs free as Kurt slid them past her knees, then shifted position so that she was lying on the bed properly instead of half-hanging-off.
Dropping her jeans on the floor, Kurt leaned down for another kiss. Kitty returned it, sliding her hands down his sides and then around to his lower belly, reaching the button on his jeans. Undoing it and his zipper as well, she looked down.
Well. No need to ask if he was enjoying himself — but what a pity that the lime green they hadn’t been able to break him of wearing extended to his underwear selection. [Why not white? He looks *great* in white...] Kitty refrained from complaining aloud, settling for giving his jeans a careful tug downward. He was going to need to pull his tail out of that little hole in the seat of his pants, after all, and she didn’t want to yank it or scrape it or whatever. [The things we mutants have to think about...] Since he’d seen fit to leave her in her panties for the moment, she opted to leave him his briefs as well.
It seemed an appropriate time for the pair of them to pull the covers on his bed down and get themselves underneath, before coming together for another kiss. This one was the best yet, with fur rubbing sensually against bare skin all along their lengths. Kitty wrapped a leg around him, allowing her to press certain attention-demanding areas against that hard swelling so unfortunately encased in icky lime green fabric. He made another of those endearing little urgent noises, placing a hand on her hip to pull her more firmly against him.
She almost — *almost* — yelped at the unexpected caress on her bare thigh, before realizing that Kurt was winding his tail around her leg. The soft touch reached around and around and around, spiralling down her thigh and across her knee to her calf, rubbing lightly and not-so-incidentally holding her leg in place to keep her hips pressed against his. [Neat! Like a third hand — only it can cover a *lot* more territory...]
She slid a hand between their bodies, sliding it down his belly — [Mmm — nice! Washboard tummy under velvet...] — to rub against the front of his shorts. He moaned and relaxed his grip — with hand and tail both — then reached down to return the favor.
Kitty pressed herself against his hand, a whimper escaping her as he immediately found her clitoris, rubbing it firmly but slowly. When she began to rock her hips into the motion, he slid his fingers in through the leg of her panties and started exploring. This time he found her clit with a thumb, sliding one finger into her vagina. Regrettably he was short a few fingers — but the ones he had were strong and solid, so that the effect was about that of two normal fingers slipped in together. She gripped his finger with her internal muscles. "Take them off," she ordered — or begged — rather than suggested, not specifying whether she meant her underwear or his own. (She meant both, of course.)
To emphasize her point, she slid her own hand down the front of his briefs. Mmm, short fuzz on his belly, but turning into a longer covering (not unlike the hair on his head) when she approached some of his more interesting bits. One of the most interesting of said bits fairly leaped into her hand.
Yep. Fuzzy was definitely nonfuzzy in some vital points of interest — or rather, no fuzzier than any other adult male human. Also uncircumcised, she discovered with a bit of further exploration. He exhaled shakily as she began rubbing the head of his penis with her thumb — his fingers disappointingly stilled in her panties — before abruptly disengaging himself and nudging her hand out of his briefs. Fairly leaping out of the bed, he dived for the scattered clothes on the floor, while Kitty watched in confusion. Picking up a pair of jeans — dropping them — picking up the pair that turned out to be his, he pulled out his wallet — oh. Right.
["Like fucking a Muppet" — hah! Muppets don’t carry condoms around with them...]
Tossing some foil packets onto the pillow, Kurt was back under the covers with her before his undies had time to hit the floor. They both reached for her panties at the same time, losing them under the covers somewhere after they were off and not particularly caring. Kitty beat him to grabbing for a rubber, and he leaned over her for another kiss while she was fiddling with the packet. [Yeah, yeah, I’m handling the safe sex, which I’m sure you find deeply moving. Well, you’ve got your hands free — do something with them!]
Not being telepathic, Kurt couldn’t be expected to follow the mental instructions, but having her pause to take his hand and press it to her vulva was the kind of nonvocal suggestion it was hard to miss the point of. He began rubbing her clit again while she rolled the condom onto him, and was even charming enough to *keep* rubbing after she had him sheathed — possibly waiting for some kind of signal from her before diving in.
Signals she could give. "C’mere," wrapping her arms and a leg around him and pulling him against her. He was on her in a heartbeat and she had guided him into her within another.
It had happened so quickly that the two of them paused to adjust for a few moments, looking into one another’s eyes somewhat wonderingly before he began to move. Kitty had time to think, [This is me having sex with Kurt. This is me fucking Fuzzy. This is really nice...]
Then her thoughts grew a bit more fragmented, distracted as she was by the brush of fur against some of the tenderest areas of skin on her body, the rhythm of penetration, that coiling caress along her leg again. She put her hands on his buttocks, adjusting his movements to find the exact angle she wanted to rub her clit with each stroke, and things got very... singleminded, after that.
He finished before she did, though only by a few seconds — if anything, it was that cry against her neck that gave her that final nudge over the edge. She pulled him down to rest his weight atop her when he relaxed, and they spent several breaths like that, still joined as though melted together in their contentment. Now *this* was something that she couldn’t do with Peter — he was so much bigger than she that he never dared rest his full weight on her, but Kurt was built to a much lighter frame.
They couldn’t stay like that for very long, but it was nice while it lasted. After a minute or so, Kurt reluctantly pulled free, dropping the used condom in the trash can by the desk and curling back up against Kitty. "So," she said, feeling that the situation might require some commentary, but unsure what to say.
"So," he agreed. Evidently he wasn’t feeling any more verbose than she right now — if anything, he looked a bit drowsy. Then he came up with some appropriate nonverbal communication for the situation, pulling her into yet another kiss.
As commentary went, Kitty was happy with it. It seemed to cover the necessary material while suggesting avenues for further research if she were so inclined. She ran a hand down his back again — she just couldn’t get over how soft that fuzz was to the touch! — and felt him nudging one of those muscular thighs between her own.
The grip on her ankle was unexpected, this time because she had grown used to the feel of his tail. Well. Those feet certainly *were* handy — pun definitely appropriate in this case. Using that grip, he bent her leg at the knee, curling her thigh around his own and pulling her close to him again. She had no objections to the idea — especially since she was still feeling warm and cuddly from the just-finished lovemaking session.
Then she felt the renewing erection pressing against her. This was no bad thing. Raising her head to look him in the eye, "Kurt, can I ask you something?"
"What is it?" The wickedly speculative look that had begun to replace the sleepy expression was now tempered with a certain caution.
"How long has it been since you’ve had a girlfriend?"
"Longer than I would like." Judging by his guarded expression, there might have been a long and lonely time since his last relationship — or possibly a very painful breakup.
"That’s unbelievable. There’s a shortage of decent available guys out there, and here you are still up for grabs after all this time. Ridiculous. Almost criminal."
The guarded expression had been replaced by mingled pleasure and slight disbelief. "I’m very flattered that you think so — "
"I don’t think, I *know*. You should have been snatched up *ages* ago..."
Between the shy smile and the erection now pressing firmly up against her vulva, it was easy to see that he was enjoying the current line of conversation. Rather than point out that his appearance limited his love life to dating extreme xenophiles, he lightly asked, "If you have any ideas on how to correct the situation, I’m willing to let you."
The question had more than one possible interpretation. Possibly Kitty was thinking that he had just given her permission to play matchmaker when she said, "I may have to take you up on that..."
Then again, in the spirit of the evening, she could have been reacting to the implied inquiry as to whether she would care to "correct the situation" personally — by filling the desired role herself.
Kurt didn’t stop to inquire as to which meaning she might have been responding to — the more so since she reached for another of those foil packets while he was considering the matter.
"This time I want to be on top," she announced.
Kurt laughed as he reached for her.
* * *
Disorientation came with waking, but only for a moment. The soft-over-hard of velvet-covered muscle pressed against her back — to say nothing of the warm tail coiled around her waist — made it impossible to mistake her bedmate for anyone but Kurt. The events of the previous evening rose instantly to memory, spurred by the tactile stimulus.
With remembrance came rue. She had told Kurt, "This isn’t *about* Peter," but of course he was involved, regardless of her careless statement. How could he *not* be, when his girlfriend slept with a friend of his?
Kitty winced as the second thoughts she *should* have had the previous night belatedly made themselves known. Hadn’t the crying jag on Kurt’s shoulder that led to all *this* been because she didn’t want to lose Peter? Didn’t she love him?
Wouldn’t this hurt him?
She froze as a yawn near her ear was followed by movement behind her and then an arm joining the tail around her midsection. "Gutenmorgen, Liebchen," came the sleepy greeting. (Good morning, darling.)
There was so much she could say at this point — so much that it was a struggle to winnow through the possibilities. A simple "Good morning" would imply that nothing was wrong, whereas "I have to leave now" would probably hurt his feelings and was fairly rude besides.
So what she settled for was, "Do you know when Peter and the rest of them will be getting back?" She let her worry — and traces of guilt besides — enter her tone.
There was startled silence behind her for a moment, before, "I have no idea." He sat up abruptly.
Glancing over her shoulder, Kitty found Peter’s alarm clock. The glowing green numerals pointed out that it was past eleven AM.
So. Lounging around in bed was probably inadvisable — they were courting discovery with every minute she lingered in the room. Kitty hesitated to rise, though. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of hiding herself under the sheet, but at the same time she was feeling just a bit shy at the idea of climbing out of bed naked in front of a male friend of hers. Admittedly, he’d already seen her — gotten intimately acquainted with the bits that she would be worrying the most about covering, in fact — but she still wasn’t quite cool with the idea of prancing around barefoot all the way up right there in front of him.
He solved the dilemma without noticing, rolling out of bed and to the floor. Landing in a fluid crouch, he rapidly collected the scattered clothing and sorted it into "his" and "hers" piles. Passing Kitty her own clothing, he began quickly redressing himself.
Reassured that he wasn’t watching her, Kitty let the sheet drop long enough to get her bra and shirt on. She was tempted to leave her bra off in the interests of greater speed, before realizing that explaining her evening’s absence to her roommates would not go any easier if she returned to her room missing undergarments.
Speaking of missing undergarments... Kurt almost dropped the shirt he was about to put back on when he looked up and saw Kitty rummaging under the bedclothes. Modesty forgotten as she crawled to the foot of the bed searching for her missing panties, some very interesting areas had been left revealed to the open air. Kurt swallowed hard and wished he had a few more condoms handy.
Of course, under the circumstances, taking the time for another round would have been a very risky idea. Still, it had definite charms...
Struggling manfully to ignore the bare bottom charmingly peeking out from beneath the sheet, he asked, "Need some help?"
Kitty froze in startlement, then backed out. Kurt refrained from sighing in disappointment as she pulled her shirt down as far as it would go. "I can’t find my panties..."
Another minute of combined hunting, and Kurt had found them under the corner of the bed, kicked out at some point in the previous night’s activities. (Or possibly knocked to the floor during Kitty’s frantic search.)
A few minutes later, Kitty was decent again and putting her shoes and socks back on. "What — what are we..." She sounded almost tearful, pausing before continuing in a softer tone, "Are we gonna tell Peter?"
Kurt sighed. Settling himself onto the bed next to her — although *not* within easy arms-reach — he asked, "Should we?"
Kitty paused, holding one sneaker without putting it on yet. "I guess... It would be the honest thing to do..."
"Honest, yes. But is it the *right* thing?"
Kitty met his eyes, suspicion warring with hope in her expression.
"We don’t want to tell and he wouldn’t be happy hearing it. So maybe we should be asking ourselves, ‘What happens if we tell?’ and ‘What happens if we don’t?’"
The shoe hung in one hand, momentarily forgotten. "If we tell... He’ll be hurt. He’ll be mad. He and I may break up over this."
Kurt refrained from adding the part about Peter maybe trying to pound a formerly good friend into blue paste on the floor. "If we don’t tell — we’ll feel guilty. We’ll have a secret. We’re going to be afraid someone will find out about this. But Peter won’t have anything to be upset over — and the two of you will stay together." [Probably. If he doesn’t find out anyway — if one of us doesn’t slip or grow tired of keeping the secret and tell him — if the guilt and the secret don’t wind up driving the two of you apart anyway — if the two of you don’t break up for some other reason...]
Kitty looked as though given permission to hope. "It really wasn’t anything *worth* making a big deal about. It just — happened. An... aberration. A lapse of reason. We weren’t thinking."
"No. We weren’t." Kurt agreed, keeping most of the sadness from his face and voice. As usual, he forgot about his tail, drooping to the floor beside him as a visible signal of unhappiness.
Putting her shoe on, determination had entered her face and voice. "And it won’t happen ever again."
Very quietly, "No. It won’t."
"So we won’t say anything about it to anyone. It’ll be like it never happened."
"Right."
Reaching to put a hand on his arm, "And no one has to get hurt over this."
The concern dredged up a weak smile in response. "Don’t worry — I wouldn’t let him catch me anyway."
She gave him a confused look, before comprehension dawned. Leaning over, she patted him on the arm.
[Ah. She was talking about hurting *Peter*.]
Rising and walking to the door, she paused before exiting. "No one else has to know. We’ll keep it just between friends."
"Just between friends. Right." He managed not to sigh until she had ghosted through the door and out of the room.
[Just friends. Right.]
THE END