Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:
Fracture Fifty-Two: Home and Healing
“*Some*body *sco-ored*…” sang a voice as Kurt escorted Kitty back towards the Institute.
“Clappe, Andrei,” Kurt told him. “Go find some clover, or something.”
Andrei emerged from the shrubbery, toothpick worrying at some greenery in his teeth. “Hey, come on. *I* can smell it on you and you're *downwind*. How long do you think you’re going to last against that Logan guy?” He munched on some more greenery. “The least you could do is tell me a little about it before he slices and dices you.”
Kurt sighed. “Andrei…”
Kitty held up a finger and tried not to think about where it had been last. “Uh. You guys - graze?”
Andrei bowed at her. “Us Centaurs are vegetarians by force, ma'am. Of course, we can eat *grass*, but it’s a little - bland. Your Professor let us in his estate in our search for flavour.”
“It’s very nice, here,” said another Centaur, emerging from the other side of the path. “Well, well, what have *you* two been up to? You *know* your Mama’s not too fond of more grandchildren, right now…”
Kurt sighed again. “Franziska…”
“Heh,” said Andrei. “You can’t keep secrets from a Centaur.”
“Or a group of them, it seems,” Kurt said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just keep it to yourselves for as long as you can, ja? I like my new life, thankyou.”
“Certainly gave it a good start.”
“*Andrei*…”
“And maybe someone else, too.”
“*Franziska*…”
Kitty guided him away. “Come on. They’re only teasing. I think. They won’t like, tell anyone.”
“I certainly hope so. You know the Institute rules about hanky-panky.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t like, do it on Institute grounds.”
“I suppose…” he said. “I hope…”
A thought occurred to her. “Um. Andrei and Franziska. Are they -uh- youknow?”
“It never pays to pry into the affairs of Centaurs,” Kurt said, "Because a hoof to the ribs often offends.“
*
Bluebelle laughed as she flying-tackled Jamie. "Gotcha!” she crowed as they tumbled along the grass. She wound up on top of him, and decided that, yes, she liked him more than enough. She’d never done this to anyone she *liked* before.
Slowly, softly, she pressed his lips against his, adding only the faintest lick of her tongue against his lips to hint at the possibilities of more.
“*Bluebelle*!” He shrieked, backpedalling as fast as he could scurry. "What was *that*?“
"But–” Bluebelle twitched her now-empty hands. “I thought we *liked* each other…”
“Not like *that*,” he protested. “Not *yet*… We’re just *kids*. We’re supposed to like, play and junk. Like, G-rated stuff!”
“But I thought…” Bluebelle scraped at her eyes with fists. “Don't you like me any more?”
“It isn’t like that,” he said. “That kiss - that was too old for you. It was too old for *me*.”
Bluebelle started huddling up on herself. “I just wanted to show you I like you?”
“You don’t gotta do it like that, okay?”
Bluebelle felt weird. All sad, yet relieved at the same time. “I'm sorry,” she said at length. “I guess I’m still trying to find out what's right and wrong.”
“It’s okay,” Jamie relaxed at long last, and held her hand. “Next time, warn me first, okay?”
“Okay.”
_Children,_ came Xavier’s telepathic call. _There’s some people to see Bluebelle, here. Activate your holowatch, please._
Bluebelle sighed and turned on her hologram. It was *weird* being pink instead of blue. Personally, she didn’t know how Daddy could stand it.
She came in, because that’s where she guessed the people were, and found Daddy talking to them with the Professor. Bluebelle clung to the door frame and whimpered.
The men were dressed in dark suits and looked imposing. The sort of people who, on television, made other people disappear.
“It’s all right, liebchen,” said Daddy. “These people just came to talk about your citizenship.”
“I don’t have one,” she said. “You can’t make me.”
One of the men smiled.
“Gekommen sie,” Daddy gestured at a seat next to his. “We’re just trying to make you official, ja? It’s just paperwork.”
Bluebelle worked her way towards Daddy, keeping cover between her and the men. She didn’t like this. She didn’t trust them. The minute she settled herself in her seat, she clung to Daddy like a limpet.
“That does it,” he said. “You’re not watching the Hallmark Channel without supervision any more. You see too many movies showing you the wrong things.”
“They aren’t gonna take me away?”
“Nein. We’re just trying to sort out a bunch of things so you officially exist.”
Bluebelle didn’t understand *that*. “But I exist,” she said. “I'm right here.”
“That’s true,” said one of the men. Bluebelle called him Goon1. “But you don’t have any documentation - any papers - saying you are who you are. As far as the government’s concerned, you just sprang up out of nowhere the day your father rescued you.”
“We just need a few details so we can fix up that problem,” Goon2 smiled. “The government doesn’t like it when little girls pop up out of nowhere.”
“Do you know what day you were born, sweetie?” asked Goon1.
Bluebelle nodded. “April twenty-seventh,” and winced. “Mistress liked to do really bad things on my birthday.”
“You don’t have to celebrate it,” said Daddy. “I celebrate the day I was adopted, since I don’t *have* a real birthday.”
“You can *have* mine,” said Bluebelle. “It’s *yuck*.”
Daddy just laughed and gave her a hug. “That narrows it down, ja? April twenty-seventh, Ninety-five. Just put the Schwartzwald as the place of birth. Hess liked hanging around, there.”
“That’s still a lot of turf,” said Goon2. “We might have to question her and her cronies, but I don’t think they’ll talk.”
“They’d want to cut a deal, and we’re not really that desperate for details,” said Goon1.
“All else fails, we’ll throw a dart at the map. Closest Hess strike zone gets to be her place of birth. Officially, of course.” Goon2 busily took notes.
“There’s another way to work this,” said the Professor. “Forensic evidence and witness statements have put Hess in smaller areas. All we have to do is locate which area she was in during April of Ninety-six.”
“Heck, they could probably give you a street address,” said Daddy.
Both Goons laughed.
*
Kitty froze the second Logan entered the room. He was sniffing. She tried acting nonchallant. After the -er- ‘dirty’ bath, they’d both washed like people with OCD. There was no possible *way* that Logan could know.
He came right up to her and said, “Hope you two were playin’ safe.”
Kitty managed a nervous giggle. “We’re not in trouble, are we?”
“Listen. Chuck likes kids. But he don’t like *kids* having kids. And neither do I.”
Kitty cringed.
“I know the rules ain’t gonna stop ya if you’re determined; but if you’re gonna play at being adults, you better start acting responsible, too.”
“We were,” said Kitty. “We *are*. And we will. Promise.”
“Good.” Logan helped himself to a soda. “You’re way too young to be a Mom, Half-pint.”
“I sorta like, figured that out already.”
*
“What sort of closing argument *was* that?”
“The best you could get,” said Mason. “Bruna, we both know you're guilty. There *is* no defence for what you did. The second this trial is over, I quit. You’re going to have to find another lawyer to defend you. Because I *can’t*.”
“You insolent little man! You’re working for me! I *order* you to help my appeal.”
“Bruna,” Mason sighed. “You stain people. I’m not hanging around to see how dark my soul gets. Like I said. I quit.”
“You can’t quit,” she said. “I fire you!”
“Good luck finding a new lawyer,” said Mason. “You’ll need it.”
*
“Hey, Elf. Packages for you and the rugrat.”
Bluebelle gave him a hug on her way past, despite all of Logan’s best efforts to appear hard-bitten and feral enough to never need a hug in all his life.
And, despite his act, he smiled at her and clapped her on the shoulder.
Kurt grinned. He *knew* Logan was soft on kids.
Logan snagged his arm as he passed. “I already talked to Half-pint," he said. "Don’t make me talk to you.”
Kurt swallowed. “Jawohl, mein Herr.” That was an official warning. Any more premarital hanky-panky and Kurt would have certain parts shortened by adamantium. Not that they weren’t doing a fine job of hiding on their own, right now…
He escaped Logan and found Bluebelle already tearing the wrapping off of a large box. It was a giant white teddy-bear, almost as big as she was. The card, once unearthed, had a bunch of flowers on the cover and a hand-written message inside that read, “Hope this helps make up for lost time. Gram'ma.”
Kurt’s package was a rare Beatles album and a similar card. “I know I’m not much of a mother, but I can give you something no-one else can. 17th July, 1985. Your birthday. Do with it what you will. Mom.”
No 'I love you’s. Just a peace offering. And no return address.