Obviously enough, this story takes place before Kurt discovers Mystique is his mother. Okay, I know this is very angsty for Kurt and he really doesn't lend himself to angst, but it's my fic so who the heck cares! Besides, he's sick. He deserves a little self pity. It's also a little bit of K&K (I say all x-ev fanfic writers should call Kurt and Kitty stuff K&K, it's so much easier. It's like the Cardcaptor Sakura "S&S" Anyway, enough ranting for me, onto my fic.) By the way, I totally don't think Kurt is a freak, he's incredibly adorable, but the story is from his point of view.

Tea with Honey, Flat Ginger Ale, And Other Afflictions in the Life of A 15-year-old Freak
By: Kelly


Kurt watched the rain splatter on his window, staring out into the cold darkness. He just couldn't deal with being down there tonight. He sneezed, his cold didn't help much either. He already felt so different from the rest of them, like a freak, they didn't know what he'd been through, she didn't know, and now this.

Perhaps he was just hiding, Kitty's parents had come to visit the institution for the weekend to see how she was doing. Maybe he just didn't want to see them cover up their shock, talk to him like he was some sort of sideshow freak, cast uncomfortable stares at each other when he entered the room. People didn't think he noticed those things, like the way Scott pulled away his hand when they had first met, but he did, and it hurt.

Or maybe it was something more. The tiny bedside lamp cast his reflection onto the window and Kurt stared at his face with hatred. He ported across the room and turned it off, returning to the window. Maybe it was because Kitty had real parents, not just people who took pity on her. And it wasn't even like his parents were dead, they were out there, somewhere. They just didn't want to have a freak for a son. He sighed heavily, coughing and flicking his tail in anger. He pressed his fevered forehead against the cool pane of glass. Then again . . .

He smiled, there was one fantasy he'd never told anyone. It was so absurd, so crazy, but still it was there, like a tiny ray of hope in his dark past. He closed his eyes, tongue running over his teeth, hands folded, nostrils wide, as though he was trying to kindle this thought with all his senses. What if his mother hadn't wanted to give him up? He scolded himself for allowing this idea to resurface. It was stupid, it was childish, it was something he used to tell himself when they had run him out of a village, but it was so comforting. Maybe she had loved him, as her own son. Maybe she hadn't cared he was covered in blue fur, or that he had pointed ears, or a tail. Maybe she had held him close and sang him to sleep when he was first born. Maybe she was still out there, looking for him.

He pulled his head away from the window, which was fogged up now from his breath. Would he ever find her? Now he remembered why he despised this fantasy so much, it always brought up more despair. Fifteen years, had she even been looking? His dream mother would've, but what about his real mom? His coughing flared-up and, porting himself over to his bedside table on which stood a glass of ginger ale, he took a drink. It was flat. His dream mother would be here right now, taking care of him. He wouldn't be in some drafty mansion in his room alone, he would be in a small cottage, just outside of Bonn, curled up next to the fireplace drinking tea with honey. His mother would be talking to him in a soothing voice, cooling his fever. He stared at the glowing embers in the fireplace, his own fire had gone out over an hour ago, but what did it matter? He wondered what she looked like, staring into the condensation on the window. He lifted a shaking hand and began to trace the outline of a face, rounded with a prominent chin like his own. He worked with a purpose now, tracing a pretty smile onto the face, fangs included. The nose was smaller than his, but with the same squared-off shape, and the hair was long and dark blue, like his own. But the eyes . . . he had drawn them rounder than his own, more innocent, they looked so familiar. They were . . . Kitty's eyes.

He cursed himself, how could he have forgotten about Kitty, the other source of his misery. Beautiful, innocent, sweet Kitty who could never love him. Kitty who thought he was a freak. Kitty who loved Scott. He whipped his tail violently onto the hardwood floor, causing him to swear loudly and break into another coughing fit, not that anyone cared. Scott the prick! But it wasn't that, Scott had been nothing but nice to him since that night in the danger room. It was just . . . Kitty thought Scott was cute, he'd heard her. Kitty just thought he was an elf. A BLUE FUZZY ELF!!! With a vehement swipe of his hand, he wiped the picture from the window, those eyes were taunting him and his head was throbbing.

He pulled back the covers on his bed and climbed in. How could he feel so awful both physically and mentally? Even in the darkness he was haunted by the familiar, sweet, expressive eyes and elusive hopes about his mother. He couldn't keep a tear from streaming down his face . . . and then another. Kurt cried himself to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*

"Kurt?" called a sweet voice from his dreams, "Kurt, are you awake?" No, it wasn't from his dreams, it was real. He opened his still sleepy eyes slightly. It was dark in the room but he could make out Kitty's form hovering near his bed from the moonlight streaming through his window. The storm outside had stopped. He propped himself up on his elbows, opening his eyes fully.

"Keety, what iz wrong? Why aren't you wiss your parents?" He asked sleepily, his throat was raw and it was hard to talk. For a brief moment he wondered how she'd gotten in, he remembered locking the door. It just showed how tired he was, she could walk through walls after all. He noticed she was clutching something in her hand.

"They were tired, the flight from Chicago was like, totally brutal. Especially with all the layovers and stuff. They went to bed. Did I wake you up? It's only like nine o'clock, I'm sorry, I thought you'd still be awake."

Her talking was making his head spin. "No, itz fine." He collapsed back on the pillow, closing his eyes. The sleep hadn't helped, he still felt horrible, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you were doing. The flu can be like, a total bummer. What happened to your fire?" Her heard her set down what she was holding on his bedside table and walk over to the barely glowing embers, "Its freezing in here."

"Itz fine, Keety."

Nevertheless, she poked at it for about five minutes before he heard her walk back over to his bed. "There, that's better."

He opened his eyes a little, his room was illuminated with golden, flickering warm flames. "Danke."

"No problem," she looked at him reflectively, "So, how are you doing?" She sat down on the corner of his bed. Before he could answer she placed a gentle hand on his forehead, "Oh, you're burning up. Hold on just a second."

She walked over to the far end of his room and opened the door that led to the bathroom he shared with Evan. The cool light spread over the floor as Kurt lay in bed, thinking. The light flicked off and Kitty returned, holding a face-cloth in her right hand. She placed it on his forehead, the rough coolness of the cloth and gentle pressure of her touch feeling so good.

"Keety?"

"Yes Kurt?"

"Don't go again."

"I won't, I'm right here. It's alright." She fingered his cheek as she spoke, her soft caresses meaning more to him than her words, "I brought you something to drink."

"Vas?" He didn't care, he just wanted her to stay here with him until he fell asleep, maybe forever.

"Tea with honey."


THE END

Okay R&R, this was my first X-ev attempt at a fanfic. I've written some CCS before but, this is different. This is the best title, I adore it!! I love Kurt and Kitty, they have the best relationship. I know the story is so incredibly cliche but, oh well. It had to be told. E-mail me too! Even flames, it's all good. Talk to y'all later!! ^ _ ^