Pickles and Cheese

(Because I cannot think of a cool title. Hey, it got your attention, didn't it?)

By The Odd Little Turtle Named Froggie

(Marvel characters belong to Marvel.

This really is an experimental piece. I'll have characterization drabbles here only. Some I've posted to my LJ, others I've posted to the Kiotr Comm, some I've not posted anywhere. Mostly old school Kitty Pryde and the X-men of the 80s and 90s. Don't read if you don't like drabbles. Input is always welcome but not required.

Btw- most of these are from word prompts from my husband, HawkofAllTrades)


Characters: Kitty Pryde, Peter Rasputin

Inspiration: UXM # 174: Romances, you know the scenes! If it were to happen in continuity, it would happen in between 174 and 175; however I forgot that Wolverine was in Japan during this time when I wrote it. Oops.

Prompt: Painting

Rating: PG for lovely Kiotr fluff. "Also, cute and cuddly!"


Oh, my, gosh!

Kitty Pryde flopped down on her bed, spread eagle. She was on cloud nine or ten or maybe even twelve! Her teenaged heart was beating rapidly and her face was flushed.

Peter Rasputin, the boy in the next room over, had kissed her! And not a chaste kiss, he'd done that before and not a scared-I'm-just-comforting-you kiss, he'd done that before too. No, this was a searing, toe-curling kiss that left both flushed and panting. Of course, when Ororo had caught them, she had wanted to phase through the floor in embarrassment, but had stayed because 1) it was the right thing to do and 2) Peter had told her to.

Wow, a real kiss, she thought with a dopey smile plastered to her face, what a zinger! She recalled how Peter's normally icy blue eyes had darkened with unbridled passion. She would never forget the way he had looked at her as she had leaned closer.

"You look scared*," he had said, his accent thick, his voice deepening with each word. And she had been. Not as much as she had been with a Brood embryo inside her, but scared nonetheless. She didn't really have an excuse to be close to him now, and what girl wouldn't be scared of getting rejected? She had had a crush on the large Russian boy since she had first arrived at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

The feel of his lips and the taste of his tongue were seared into her brain. Kitty doubted she would ever forget that first real kiss. She sighed and sat up, staring at the wall, the only object that separated her from Peter.

Would he kiss her again if she phased through? Or would he merely smile sadly and tell her that it was all a mistake and that she should return to her room? After all, when she first began attending Xavier's, he'd been seeing someone named Elizabeth and had jumped at the phone every time it rang.

There was a quiet knock on her bedroom door that startled her from her reverie. She hoped it was Peter, there to profess his love, and not Logan ordering her to stop using his razor to shave her legs. (Electric ones worked so much better than those disposable orange plastic ones that seemed to be the only thing anyone except Logan used!)

Not bothering to use the doorknob, she phased her molecules through the wooden door, her head and shoulders the only parts sticking through the other side. To her delight, Peter stood there, his large fist in mid-knock.

"Kitty?" He suddenly seemed confused. She blinked. This was her room… wasn't it? Panicked, Kitty backed up and looked around the small space. Dazzler poster? Check. Menorah? Check. Star Wars poster? Check, check. Beige Toaster, er, Macintosh Personal Computer? Check, check, check.

Yup, Kitty Pryde's Domain alright. She opened the door the proper way with renewed determination to get an explanation of the man she was planning on pinning down and kissing. Peter stood there looking downright frightened and all thoughts of kissing vanished from her mind and she switched over into "hero mode". Sprite was there to save the day.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" she questioned, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

He was quiet a moment before answering haltingly. "Did I," he began, using his hands when his words failed. He tried again, "Have I--?" He took a deep breath, before plowing full speed ahead, Colossus-style. "Was I out of line upstairs in Ororo's loft?"

She felt her face heat up, suddenly finding the blue of his eyes too intense. "No, Peter," she squeaked. Finding the courage to meet his blue eyes with her brown ones, she asked quietly, "Was I?" She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. What a dunce! Throwing herself at him like that and in less than a month since they'd returned from space.

"Of course not, Katya," he replied softly. He went to pull her chin up so that she would look him in the eye, but she was phased and his hand passed right through her. If she noticed, she didn't acknowledge it as she blurted a question so quiet that he couldn't hear her.

He told her, "I cannot hear you if you do not look at me and speak up, little one. I do not have Logan's superior senses."

The tiny young girl before him met his gaze with the same trepidation she had portrayed in space after her nightmare and Peter's heart leapt with concern.

"I asked," she started, then stopped and looked at her feet before looking back at him once more, "I asked what it meant. The kiss. Are we—am I—are you--?"

Peter let a smile stretch his lips. He had wanted to have this conversation for so long, but had never really had the nerve. She was so young. He had been willing to wait for her, but since she had kissed him, not just today either, and since she had asked, he was more than willing to say:

"Yes," he told her, nodding. "We are dating. I am your boyfriend, and you, my Ekaterina, are my girlfriend." Realizing, belatedly, that it had sounded very much like an order, he amended, "Only if you want to."

Her brilliant white smile dazzled him and his head swam. "You mean it, Pete?"

"As I said, only if you want to," he assured her, hoping with all his heart that she was happy with his presumption and not just laughing at him.

"Of course I do!" she proclaimed and leapt gracefully into his arms. This time he didn't protest or get knocked off balance and returned the kiss with gusto enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her. And her taste, gods, he didn't think he would ever let her go. When they did finally part, he smiled happily, if slightly deliriously. Lack of oxygen and blood to the brain does that to men—he was sure he learned that in math class. Or something.

"I wish to paint you," he told her wistfully as they both caught their breath.

She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Paint me? Aren't I okay this color?"

That earned her another kiss, though a small one.

"Silly goose," he admonished. "I want to paint your portrait."

She grinned. "Name the time and place, big guy."


*Quoted from UXM 174.

(Hope you enjoyed some lighthearted fun. Input welcome.)