Disclaimer: Theirs is theirs, mine is mine. This is mine, with bits of
theirs. Thankyou for not ripping off mine.

Archiving: email cat@devil.com and ask nice :) I do like to know where
these things wind up :)

Summary: Obligatory Mindswap Episode/Fanfic. Kurtty to the max. Kitty
and Kurt experience life on the other side, as it were. *WARNING*:
Gender-bending ahead! Not easily accessable for narrow minds!

Coding info: Since fanfic is wont to turn up on web pages, I've
deliberately avoided anything to do with greater-than or less-than
signs, because they tend to screw up HTML something chronic. Hence;
asterisks (*) denote emphasis, underscores (_) thoughts or italics,
curly brackets ({}) sound effects and square brackets ([]) foreign
languages. I refuse point blank to codify accents, as it winds up
reading like lousy spelling :) I have enough trouble with that as it is.

From the Author: Yes! I finally saw enough of the Brotherhood [okay,
some of them] to get their characters accurate. Don't expect too much,
though. I may be able to write a few of them, but that doesn't mean I
have to :)

So Into You
InterNutter

"You understand what you must do," said the shadowy form that was
Magneto.
"Yah, I got it," said Toad, posing with the item in question and
making 'pshew' noises under his breath. "Aim it at an X-brat, pull
trigger. Down they go. Heh. Out like a light. ...pshew... bye-bye fuzz-
butt... heh."
"Nightcrawler is not to be harmed," warned Magneto.
"Aawwww... C'mon... The fluffy jumpin' bean *deserves* it. Can't I
just shoot 'im a *little*?"
"*NO*! His gifts will cause unforseen side-effects. Just follow
orders, Toad."
"Yo, you're no fun any mo', y'know?"
Magneto growled.
"Okay, okay, I'm goin', I'm goin'."
Magneto went back into the shadows, watching Toad go.
"...'s the point of this stoopid piece a' crap if I can't shoot that
blue-furred freak, is all I'm askin', but no-ooo, I jus' get whacked
aroun'. I tell ya, if'n I ever get anywhere, no-one's gettin' nuthin',
yo..." His litany faded into a distant mumble.
Magneto rolled his eyes. With *these* soldiers, he had to recreate the
world in his own image? No wonder he had so much trouble.

They couldn't remember how it started, exactly. Maybe someone laughed
a little too loud in Blob's hearing, or said the wrong thing at the
right time.
All that was certain was that it was now a free-for-all.
Kurt saw Toad hanging back from the battle in progress and, after he
tripped up Pietro, sending him ploughing half a kilometer down the road,
he got into a good vantage point to watch the slimy scuzzbag.
"Heh. 'bzat'... so long brat," mumbled toad, and pulled a weapon. He
aimed it straight at Kitty.
That was more than enough for Kurt. He ran at her without thinking.
"Kitty! Down!" He leaped, grabbing her.
Surprisingly, the gun actually *went* 'bzat'.
And then they were both in a world of pain.
{BAMF!}

His hair hurt. For someone who was covered in the stuff, that was some
amount of pain. Kurt voiced a groan, only to hear Kitty's voice. He
opened his eyes. He was in the ironically misnamed 'hospital wing' of
the mansion, in actuality little more than a few antiseptic rooms and
enough medical apparatus - mostly in storage - to sink a barge.
"Vas?" said Kurt, through Kitty's voice.
"What the hell were you thinking, half-pint?" Logan demanded of him.
"Kurt's *still* out of it because you stood there like a deer in the
headlights."
"What do you mean? I *am* Kurt." He put his hands forward. "See? I
have --" Five fingers. And pink skin. And - breasts... "Ach... Dis ist
unglaublich...." He felt his ears. He was human. He was Kitty. On the
outside, anyway.
Just to make absolutely certain it was real, he touched each digit to
his/her thumb. He felt every single one. Then he whimpered and curled
into a ball.
Poor Kitty. What was she going to say when she woke up as him?

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
"Kurt, calm down!"
"Kurt's over here, remember?" said her body. "That's Kitty."
"OmyGodOmyGodOmyGodOmyGodOmyGodOmyGodOmyGodOmyGod... I'm like, totally
*blue*..."
Her body groaned, sinking deeper into a foetal ball. "She'll never
want to go near me again..."
"Ew. This tail feels totally wierd. *ICK*! It's got a life of its
own!"
"Dankeschoen, fraulein, so *very* much, for that 'ick'..." it was
wierd enough hearing a German accent from her own body, but to hear
herself do sarcasm as well? Freaky. "Now that you've done me some huge
psychological damage, can you please calm down? Nothing is getting
solved by panicking."
"Okay. Calm. I can do calm. Hey, it's not like my day could *possibly*
get much worse. Right?"
"Uh... Kitty? Your - um - your body's bleeding 'down there'..."
Kitty burst into tears. Of all the days to get a period... and she was
going to have to explain it to an obviously naive Nightcrawler, who just
happened to be *in* her body at the time.

"So that thing toad fired swapped their minds?"
"In essence, yes," said the Professor. "But it's far more complicated
than that. The process seems to be linked to finding the thought
patterns that make up an individual and--"
"Please, Prof., not again," Rogue begged. "It was over my head before,
and if you explain it any more, my head's going to explode."
"The question we *should* be asking is how soon we can get them
back... or what we got to do to make that happen," said Jean.
"Yeah," said Evan. "It creeps me out how Kurt's become a total valley
girl."
"Our best approach would be to obtain the weapon," said Xavier. "That
way, we can study it, and see if we can reverse the process."
"But what about Kurt and Kitty?" asked Scott.
"They'll be staying behind under my observation. They're having a hard
enough time merely going about day to day business, let alone fighting."
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we're going to squash us a toad," said Evan.

Kurt had paled visibly, and the expression of horror on her face had
almost turned into a rictus. "And - you put up with this? Every
*month*?"
"Yeah. Until we're like, fifty or something. You get used to it."
"I don't think *I* could."
"Aw damn... I gotta go." Kitty hopped out of bed without thinking.
"Nein! Wait!"
"Whoop... whoa! Waugh!" Kitty fell over.
Kurt wobbled over to where he had fallen. "You're not used to my feet
yet. Let me help you."
"All the way to the toilet?"
"It's not as if you've got anything I haven't seen before. Besides,
four feet are better than two."
"I swear, if you mention this to *anyone*..."
"What? That I saw myself taking a leak? Why would I mention that?"
"Okay, okay, okay. Like, you've totally made a point."

"Hey, put me down, yo?"
Spike put a spear-let narrowly past his left ear.
"Quit it!" He pleaded.
"Give us that gun, frogboy, and we might think about it."
"I ain't got it no mo', I swear! It just vanished."
Another spear-let, this time, it clipped some of his hair.
"I sweartoGod, yo? I ain't *got* it no mo'!"
At this point, Rogue stepped forward. She made a show of taking off
her glove.
"Awww... c'mon. Ain't no need f'r that. I'm tellin' the truth, yo? One
moment it was there, the next - *blip* - y'know? I ain't got it an' I
dunno where it's at, I swear. SweartoGod. NonogetawayfrommeAUGH!" With
one final 'unk', Toad was silent.
"He's tellin' the truth, yo?" said Rogue, who was looking very green.
"He never had a clue."
"Damn!"

"This will be your room for the interim," said Xavier. "I thought it
would be better if could interact at will, given that you will
constantly need each other for - er - reference."
"Yeah, we like, figured that out pretty much," Kitty was still leaning
on Kurt, but he was getting increasingly used to Kurt's digigrade legs.
Kurt, meanwhile, was examining the room. "Why am I suddenly looking
for bars in the windows and cameras in the ceiling?" she asked.
"You're right, Kurt, you are going to be observed; but this isn't a
behavioural analysis experiment. I just want to be able to respond in
case of a secondary emergency."
Both fell silent.
"You mean, in case one or both of us like, totally loses it."
"Or worse," said Kurt. "We don't know how to handle each other's
powers. If either of us acted on instinct --"
"Way to give me nightmares, fuzzy," Kitty grumbled.
"You're fuzzy now, remember?"
The Professor cleared his throat. "As I was *saying*," he cut their
incipient argument short. "All your things have been moved into here,
and you have an ensuite behind that door. As always, you both have the
freedom of the estate but *please*... be careful?"

Kitty watched, perched safely on a handy chair, as Kurt, in her body,
began to lay things out on her bed. Or was it his bed?
"What are you doing?"
"Putting out comfortable clothes for you, of course. You've had a bad
day, and if I'm any judge, you'll want a nice hot bath and something
relaxing."
"I don't need a whole *bath*," Kitty said, scratching absently at his
fur. "Just a quick shower."
"You're starting to shed," said Kurt, still talking in reasonable
tones. "And from the sheer panic you've been doing, you've been sweating
too. And *that* means that you're getting clumpy."
"This is *way* more elf hygene info than I *need*. I'll just run the
bath and nod and smile, 'K?"
Kurt laughed. "Sure, Kitty," she said. "I'll take a shower, too."
"While I'm *in* there?"
"It's not like *I* haven't got anything *you* haven't seen before,
either. Besides, I think we'll both need helping. What with the -um-
youknow. The bleeding..." She blushed.
"Period, Kurt," he corrected. "*Pee-reee-od*. It's not like, a rude
word... Oh and Kurt?"
"Ja?" she said.
"If I catch you feeling my body up in there, you're dead meat."

"...unk," said Blob, and slowly toppled over.
"He don't know either," said Rogue, looking greenish *and* pudgy.
"Next up, avalanche."
"Aw man," said Rogue. "I don't know how much of this I can stand.
These guys' minds are gross..."

Kitty looked more than bedraggled. "The hair dryer," he announced, "is
not working."
"It already has," Kurt announced, now thoroughly entrenched in a huge
T-shirt and a pair of slacks. "You're only damp, now."
Kitty groaned. "*More* elf hygene?"
"Come on, fraulein, I'll help you to a chair."
"I'm getting better at the tail-counterbalance."
"Ja, I know, but I'd never forgive myself if I let you trip over. You
might ruin my roguish good looks."
"You haven't done my hair up," Kitty complained.
"I like it down. That little hair-thingy of yours hurts too much when
you pull it out."
"You're *supposed* to undo it."
"*You're* supposed to be sitting down. We have some serious brushing to
do."
"We?"
"You're not going to get the technique straight away, and I think
you'd rather take over when I get near the belt-line, ja?" Kurt pulled a
couple of nested brushes from the dresser and uncoupled them.
"What are they?" asked Kitty, his tail twitching nervously.
"Currycombs?"
"They're antique suit brushes," Kurt said with the infinite patience
of someone who's had to explain that sort of thing before. "They were
also used for hair. Opa gave them to me."
"Oh-pah?"
"My adopted grandfather. He didn't have hair any more, so he thought
I'd get more use out of them. Now close your eyes, I'll do the tricky
bit."
Kitty obeyed, and giggled at the feel of the brushes running over his
skin.
"Please don't squirm."
"I can't help it," Kitty still giggled. "It tickles..."
"And *I* have to be gentle," Kurt reasoned, moving from Kitty's cheeks
to the pointy ears. "I've never had to brush anyone else's face before."
Now that she'd moved away from Kitty's face altogether, he could open
his eyes to watch what Kurt was doing.
"Do you realise how silly that sounds?" Kitty asked.
"Sure," Kurt answered, running the brushes down Kitty's neck. "We're
in a silly situation. I mean, this sort of thing only ever happens in
bad movies or stupid TV shows with nothing better for a script."
"Or *truly* bad novels," added Kitty as he relaxed into the quasi-
massage. "Mmmm... that does feel good."
"So I see," said Kurt. "You may want to think of something else for a
while."
"Huh?"
"There are other things below the beltline with a mind of their own,
you know."
Kitty looked down. "*EW*!"
"You get used to it," Kurt grinned.

"Damnit, Avalanche doesn't know anything either."
"Which just leaves us the toughest one to catch."
"Quicksilver," they chorused.
But of course, Pietro had already guessed what was going on and
preparing for a long, long journey.

"Damnit, Kurt, quit making me look so - *lame*."
"Says the lady who just spent all day learning to walk. Anyway, I'm
sick of squinting, so the glasses stay on."
"And quit grinning like that."
"I *like* grinning." Kurt grinned in demonstration.
"You're giving my face lines and it looks *stupid*!"
"I never said anything about the ponytail you put in my hair..."
"*So*? It's just a dumb ponytail. What's wrong with a ponytail?"
"You're a *guy* now, Kitty. Guys don't look right with - with -
topknots."
"Well, *you're* the one who's putting tangles in *my* hair by letting
it loose like that."
"It looks good loose," Kurt crossed her arms in a huff. "You should
try it more often."
"Oh, so now I'm getting styling advice from someone who used to live
in a *tent*."
"Nein, I lived in a house, just like everyone else. I only *worked* in
a tent."
"The *point* is, what sort of advice could *you* give *me* about
*hair*?"
"Before today, I used to be covered in it, remember?"
"All right, *be* stupid. *I* have to--" {ggrrrrooowwwllll...} Kitty
clutched at his stomach.
"--grab a snack," Kurt finished for him. "Welcome to life with a
metabolism on fast forward."
Kitty groaned. "All right. Fine. Whatever. Just don't feed *my* body
any meat while we're down in the kitchen."
"I solemnly vow that I shall not touch a thing that bleeds," Kurt
crossed her heart while holding up her right hand. "Just for you."

"Okay. Okay. That's everything. Nearly." Pietro sped to his locker
and spun the dial so fast it smoked. "'Cept for --" he reached,
lightening fast, for something that was no longer there. "Hey, what
the--?"
"Interesting toy," said a voice behind him. "What did it do to my
son?"
_Crap._ Pietro turned to face Principal Darkholme, rictus already in
place. He talked twice as fast as usual, a feat in and of itself.
"Hithere! Fancyrunningintoyou. Wassup?"
"What's *up*," said Mystique with deliberate slowness, "is that
*someone* injured my son, with some kind of weapon. I know who it was,
I know where the weapon is, and now I want to know what it did."
"Idon'tknowwhatyou'retalkingabout."
"Nice try." She levelled the barrel at the centre of Pietro's
forehead. "Now tell me what I want to know."
"Magnetodidn'ttellmenothing, Iswear!
Hejustsaidit'dgonewrongsomehowandsaidhewanteditback."
"*Did* he?"
"HesaidToadshouldn'ashot'im," Pietro added with the nervous optimism
that that much information would help cool Mystique's slowly burning
wrath. "Saidsomethin'abouthowthefluffy--" he stopped himself just in
time. "'BouthowNightcrawler'spowerscreweditup."
Mystique, who had him pinned to the lockers by the power of one hand,
was growling. She was also turning slowly into a demonic form from
someone's nightmares. "What. Did. It. *Do*?"
"IdunnoIdunnoIdunnoIswear! Pleasedon'tdothethingwiththeteeth,
I'mtellingyouthewholetruth, nuthin'but..."
Mystique dropped him and, resuming her more normal human shape,
stalked away.
Pietro was left sprawled on the floor, staring after her. "Man. That's
gotta be close." He reached for his bag, only to see a boot descend on
the carry-strap. A spike narrowly missed his fingers.
_*Crap*..._ He gave up on the idea of the whole 'wassup' routine. The
looks on the X-brats' faces told the whole story. They were in no mood
for any banter.
He sang like a canary. Stooled like a pigeon. Crawled like a lizard
and *still* got zapped by Rogue.
Some days, it just didn't pay to get out of bed.

Kitty was resolutely eating with his eyes closed while Kurt gnawed on
the carrot sticks like someone determined to see it through to the
bitter end.
Both paused for a drink, looked at each other, and said, "This *has*
to be the worst part."
There was a knock on the door.
"I'll get it," Kitty volunteered. He was halfway there before Kurt
remembered who looked like whom.
"Nein! *Kitty*!" Kurt tangled her feet in the chair and scrambled
towards the door. "Remember whose body you're in!"
Kitty, deaf to Kurt's pleas, opened the door to face a smiling enemy.
"My son," Mystique breathed. "You're all right..."
Kitty, still running on automatic, half-turned and bellowed, "Ku-urt!
You're mom's here!"
Fortunately, it worked as a means to delay the shapeshifter and stun
her into silence.
"Dankeschoen," said Kurt, taking a mysterious weapon from Mystique's
now unresisting grasp. She used her other hand to grab Kitty's wrist and
back them away from the door. "Now, Kitty, we just stay calm and bolt at
the earliest opportunity for the Professor, right? No powers, remember?
We don't know what could happen."
"I got it," said Kitty, his eyes still locked on Mystique. "No powers,
no nasty surprises. Check."
"Son?" Mystique's face was a picture of confusion.
"Sort of 'daughter', for the meanwhile," said Kurt. "Until the
Professor figures out this little toy of yours."
"I - I was bringing it to you," said Mystique. "This was Magneto's
plan, not mine."
"I know," said Kurt. "And I thank you."
There was a noise, and a doppler-distorted cry of, "Getawayfromthem!"
and Mystique was catapulted halfway across the gardens outside.
"Now, we bolt," said Kitty.
"Ja."

"Professor!"
"Professor!"
"You've got to stop them! It's going to be *murder* in a second!"
Professor Xavier had already sent out the telepathic message before
they'd come in. "I know. Calm down, I've already defused the situation."
"Could have *told* us," griped Kitty, shivering on the spot. "We just
ran from there to here. Why'm I like, so *cold*?"
"Body debt," Kurt answered, handing the weapon over to the Professor.
"You've hardly eaten anything all day."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Metabolism on fast forward, I get it. This totally
sucks."
"It should be fixed soon," Kurt soothed. "Right, herr Professor?"
"Mmm..." said Xavier.
Now it was Kurt's turn to shiver. His faith in Xavier's ability to
overcome who-knew-what was being shaken. "We'll - just be in the
kitchens, ja? Catching up on lost calories..."

"So then she came to *surrender* the thing to *us*?"
"Ja, that's it," Kurt chewed absently on her bizillionth carrot-stick
and pushed another plate towards Kitty. "She's getting better at the
whole motherly-love thing..."
"...yicht..." said Kitty. "I'm not eating this."
"The longer you go without, the more of that you'll have to eat," said
Kurt. "It's delicious, trust me."
"I am *not* eating this."
"You're insulting my sainted mother..."
"*Mystique*?" blurted Evan.
"Nien, the other one. Mama Wagner. That's her recipe. Guaranteed to
keep fuzzy elves at their place in the table while dessert's being
made."
Ororo raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't tell us of this amazing
concoction because--?"
"Your amazing cooking hardly needed the help," Kurt grinned.
"I asked you not to do that," Kitty groaned. "This is pure calorie-
crunch... I *can't* eat this..."
"Of course you can," Kurt countered. "The body you have on at the
moment isn't *on* any diets."
Evan shook his head. "*Damn*. I can't believe how cool you are about
this, man. How do you *do* it?"
"It's part of my policy," Kurt confessed, gesturing with her carrot
stick. "Survive now, have nightmares about it later. It's served me well
for years."
Kitty, meanwhile, had pinched his nose and taken a spoonful of Mama
Wagner's soon-to-be-famous calorie casserole. "*MMPH*!" Kitty's eyes
bugged, and he started eating more rapidly. In fact, he only paused to
say, "This *is* good."
"Another victory for mein Mutter," Kurt cracked her knuckles and
added, "Try not to choke, will you?"
"Mrrrf rrf..." said Kitty.
"What was that?"
"Wise ass..."
"You're welcome."

It was late, and both of them knew it, but the Professor still hadn't
come out of the lab with their salvation. Both Kurt and Kitty finished
their kata with half their minds on the excercise, worried about the
Professor, and worried about each other.
Kurt, proving their mutual preoccupation, attempted to hang herself
upside-down on a handy wall, and wound up in an uncomfortable heap on
the floor.
"Hey, watch it," cautioned Kitty. "You could like, break something
doing that."
"I forgot," said Kurt, untangling herself. "Sorry."
Kitty had lapsed into silence, watching his tail swish in agitation.
At length, though, Kitty broke the silence with, "This totally sucks."
"Ja. You can't help thinking, 'what if he *can't* fix this?' Why isn't
anybody telling us anything?"
"It's like, quarter past midnight?" Kitty suggested. "Everyone's
asleep."
"Wish *we* were."
"Yeah. Like, what happened to your famous ability to like, sleep
through doomsday?"
Kurt shrugged. "It doesn't work when I'm uptight."
Kitty sighed. "Like, totally 'ditto'... And I was looking forward to a
nice, sound sleep..."
"Ha! After today, I'd have to be bouncing off the walls for a few
hours. Or tying myself in knots."
"You do *what* to relax?"
This time, Kurt grinned when he shrugged. "The contortionists used to
babysit for my parents, and they ran out of things for me to do. So
what?"
"I like, totally get the picture. You hyperactive fuzzball."
"*You're* the fuzzball now, remember?"
"That joke's getting a little thin, you know."
"Ja. It's just -- I *miss* being a fuzzball."
"*Yeah*? Which bit? Pulling knots out of your butt? Having to eat
like, your own weight in cholesterol a week?"
Kurt ignored that. "I miss the freedom of movement. I've tried stuff
today that's - basic - for me, and end up pulling something. Sorry,
Kitty, but your body's way too limited."
"Oh yeah," Kitty had to grin. "I remember your clock impersonations in
the library."
"Clock impersonations?" Now it was Kurt's turn to get curious.
"There's something my kameraden aren't telling me?"
Kitty was now really glad of the blue fur. It hid blushes fairly well.
"Uh. Nothing."
"Liar."
"All right, all right... You know when you're reading something in the
library? Well, when you're hanging off the wall with your feet, your
tail kinda like, goes back and forth?"
"So?"
"You're reading at the same time, right?"
"*And*?"
"You have no idea how you look, do you? It's almost exactly like one
of those lame-o cat clocks. Eyes go right, tail goes left. Eyes go left,
tail goes right."
"So that's what you guys are always sniggering about... And I wondered
why everyone kept asking me the time."
"*I* didn't."
"I noticed." Kurt thought about it further. "Thanks."
"So. Anything about *me* that I don't know?"
"Well, there's the standing pool on how many people you'll phase in on
in the bathroom... I don't bet, by the way. There's the like/totally
tally board... and the Diet du Jour thing."
"Diet du Jour?" Kitty quoted. "I don't go on *that* many diets."
"Just one a day, from what we figure," Kurt explained. "See, every
day, there's something you pass by with a sigh, or eat with this
*face*..." she demonstrated.
"I do *not* do that!"
"Sure you do. Try this phrase, 'ick... rutabaga...'"
"Ew..."
"There. You did it again!"
"Cut it *out*, Kurt."
"You *did* ask..."
"Well, I wasn't expecting an answer. Or I wasn't expecting so many.
Does everyone really make that much fun of me?"
"Not *everyone*," said Kurt. "Although I must confess that I'm
mystified by the Diet du Jour..."
"For your *information*, I go through one diet a week. Max. Most of
the stuff you catch me at is reading about how something's bad for you
and something else is better. So I swap."
Kurt made a noise. "You wait long enough, and *everything* is bad for
you... I ignore them."
"I *noticed*."
"Don't think of it as a punishment, Kitty. Think of it as a chance for
a new experience."
"You doing that with my period?"
She blushed. "Will you quit saying that word? It's embarrassing enough
as it is."
"So it *isn't* a chance for a new experience. Hypocrite."
"It's *different*," Kurt defended. "You're getting to skip out on
something horrible in exchange for --"
"Something just as horrible," Kitty interrupted. "You think I *like*
being a guy? Let alone having *two* things with minds of their own? I'd
rather have a period..."
"Then you're welcome to them." Kurt turned her back and folded both
her legs and her arms. "I hate this whole mess. I wish I'd just wake up
and it was all one of my nightmares."
"*I'm* starting to wish it was one of your nightmares," Kitty sighed.
"Or one of mine. This whole thing *sucks*. I mean, it was bad enough
just having tangles on my *head*, now I gotta worry about the whole
skin, and then I gotta stop *you* from stuffing *my* face and adding
like, twenty pounds in two days or something. What's worse is that *if*
we ever get back, we gotta catch up on all the schoolwork and stuff, and
our teachers will totally ride us. Not to mention that the rest of the
gang's gonna *know* and like, have fun at our expense. If we live that
long..." Kitty moaned, examining his hands and feet. "Being an elf
*sucks*."
It finally dawned on Kitty that there hadn't been any wisecracking
from his companion. Maybe Kurt had dozed off. Lucky her.
"Kurt?"
Nothing. Kitty crossed the room to Kurt's bed, only to have Kurt
rapidly turn her head away.
"Kurt, you okay?"
Finally, a broken, emotion-torn voice. "...stupid hormones..."
Kurt was crying. And Kitty had made it happen.
"Hey... hey... chill will ya?" Kitty soothed, moving to sit beside his
old body. "I'm sure you feel the same about the body you got, y'know?
I'm not used to *anything*..."
Kurt had covered her face with her hands, but managed a definite,
"Lea' me alone."
Kitty refused to. "It really goes better with a shoulder to cry on.
C'mon Kurt. It's okay. I didn't really mean that *you* sucked..." Kitty
laid a gentle arm around Kurt's shoulders. "You're a good guy - when
you're not a girl."
That was the final straw. Restrained tears became open sobs, and Kitty
found himself in the unique position of holding herself up through a
crying jag. More or less.
What was worse, of course, was that poor Kurt was in *her* hysterical-
babble mode. She was jabbering away in tearful German about *who* knew
what, but Kitty was certain that it was about how the world was unfair
to people used to being fuzzy blue elves.
Kitty nervously patted what was once his own shoulder. "You know
what?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm thinking that you're probably very
lucky that I don't understand a word you're saying."
Helpless against the paroxysms of hormonal dispair, Kurt clung to what
was once his body like a child. Poor Kurt, so used to listening to what
her old body used to say that she was now caught in the undertow of
someone else's hormonal tide.
They moved into a hug.
"There, there," Kitty soothed, all the time praying that *he* didn't
get *that* bad. Nor look like that once there. "There, there..."

3:00 AM
Kurt had cried herself to sleep some hours ago, and Kitty had tucked
her in. Lucky Kurt, to sleep through the help of a hormonal outburst.
Kitty, on the other hand, had no such luck, and had given up after the
fifth hot chocolate.
Okay, so being a blue elf with a high metabolism *did* have its perks,
and one of them was to be able to drink five hot chocolates in a row -
*with* marshmallows - and not feel even the slightest bit bloaty.
The downside at the moment was the side effect of sugar, plus
uptightness, plus the fact that nothing was coming out of the
Professor's study. Therefore, Kitty roamed the halls, padding along in
someone else's feet and feeling like the world had abandoned him.
It took three trips around the Institute and eventually to the study
door before Kitty tried the handle. Amazingly, it was unlocked. _Nice of
the Professor to tell *us* we could have barged in at any time and cried
on *his* shoulder,_ Kitty thought, then realised exactly how much that
would have slowed him down.
By that time, he was in the study, and had found the Professor fast
asleep at Cerebro.
He was going to get a crick in his neck like that...
Kitty, moving as quietly as possible - which was *very* quiet, thanks
to Kurt's furry feet - wheeled the Professor out to his 'relaxing
chair', a recliner by the fire. After a little bit of careful wrestling,
Xavier was now fast asleep in a far more comfy chair with less neck-
cricking capabilities.
Xavier must have been working all night, and hard.
Curiosity found Kitty back at Cerebro, trying to make sense out of the
multitude of windows scattered about the screen. Some were, despite the
Professor's protests, sparse notes of the behavioral analysis variety.
Those notes, though, were apparently generated more out of the need to
*do* something than any rude curiosity or voyeurism.
_And speaking of voyeurism..._ Kitty found a tiny window, tucked in a
corner, that showed a live feed from their shared bedroom. Kurt had
curled into a ball and was clutching the pillow like a life-preserver.
Odd to think that Kitty's body would give someone like *Kurt*
nightmares... No, that was cruel. A situation like this would give
*anyone* nightmares.
Kitty turned to the more extensive notes, which launched into algebra
every other paragraph. There were analyses of Magneto, the weapon, and
some readings from the danger room that reported to be a teleport. There
was a deposition from Rogue, containing the relevant second-hand
memories she'd acquired. There was a huge mess, and Kitty and Kurt were
in the middle of it.
Marvellous.
And from the looks of things, the Professor was a very, *very* long
way from a solution.
"Like, way to keep yourself awake, Pryde," Kitty muttered. The old
phrase about ignorance being bliss seemed very true right now. Though,
in the window in the corner, Kurt didn't seem much into the blissful
thing.
Kitty stalked out of the Professor's study, more confused and anxious
than ever before. She should tell Kurt. She couldn't tell Kurt. There
was a right to know, sure, but there was also the whole faith thing. How
many times had Kurt cheered Kitty up by telling him that the Professor
would sort it all out? How many times had Kitty said exactly the same
thing?
Now it was all coming down. Crash, crash. Crumble, crumble.
If the smartest man either of them had ever met couldn't figure it
out, where did that leave *them*? And what were they going to *do*?
Kitty found himself staring at Kurt, once again in their mutual
bedroom. Maybe it was hormones or something, but Kitty wanted to protect
Kurt from all the downsides that seemed to be happening, lately. Maybe
Kitty just needed someone with unshakeable faith by his side.
Maybe Kitty just needed to catch some Z's and when he woke up,
everything would be over. For all he knew, the Professor could be
wheeling around and shouting 'Eureka!' in the morning.
Hell, it *was* the morning. Who was he fooling, besides himself?
_That Elf better not feel like this all the time, or I'm going to
wring his fuzzy little neck for him. When he's a 'he' again, of course._
Kitty snorted. _Can't even plot a decent revenge until this whole mess
is sorted out, and that may be a moot point..._
Kitty spent the rest of the hours until dawn watching his old body
sleep with increasing jealousy. And, of course, the realisation that,
when he was a 'she', she had, indeed, snored.

Kurt knew she was being watched, even before she woke up completely
and realised that the nightmare of yesterday was still the bad dream of
this morning. She found her ex-body watching her and looking like Kitty
was pondering some deep stuff.
He was also looking slightly haggard, which in turn, meant that Kitty
hadn't been able to sleep.
Which meant that Kitty, in the wake of Kurt's former body-chemistry,
was going to be slightly grumpy, out-of-focus, or moody. Not good news,
once Kurt factored in the enormous bawling fit she'd thrown the night
before.
Kurt yawned and sat up. "Any news?" Stupid question. If there had been
news, Kitty would have woken her up himself.
"Nothing," said Kitty. "I just couldn't sleep. Colour me jealous."
"You're lying, Katzchen."
"*What*? How can you *say* that?"
Kurt pointed, "The tail. I've lived with it, Kitty."
Kitty glared at the appendage in question, and muttered, "Traitor," at
it.
Kurt hid her smile with both hands. Kitty didn't like his trademark
smile on her ex-face. "I'm guessing it's bad news, ja?"
"Like, how do you *do* that? First yesterday with Mystique, now this
morning with me. What are you, like a closet teep or something?"
"Nein, Katzchen, just a moderate observer." Kurt snagged a hairbrush
as a demonstration object. "When you hold a weapon to use it, you grip
the handle, ja? Mystique was carrying it like an offering, in
surrender," Kurt inverted her grip on the brush, presenting the handle
towards Kitty. "See? And with you, the tail's a dead give-away. You
haven't worked out how to lie with it, yet."
"It's an appendage I don't usually *have*, Kurt. Like, *duh*." Kitty
watched it thrash some more, then sighed at the open display of his
anxiousness. "You're right, though. I was lying, and I don't wanna tell
you the truth. Truth sucks."
"We're still lost, aren't we?"
"Damnit! How the heck do you *do* that? How do you *keep* doing it?
And how can stop you short of like, murder or something?"
Kurt had to laugh, though she hid the smile that Kitty hated on her
ex-face. "You spend about fifteen years lurking in corners, and see how
much people watching *you* do," she said. "It's an old, bad habit, but
some people are just much more watchable than others."
"You've been watching me?"
"Yesterday I used to be a male, remember?" Kurt improvised an alibi.
"I can't *help* watching girls. They're nice to watch."
"*Please* don't say anything like that in front of anyone else? It
like, totally makes me look like a raving lesbo..."
"Likewise, a little less Scott-watching on your side, ja? I *do* have
a reputation to maintain with the ladies..."
"*Yeah*..." Kitty laughed. "As a hyperactive goofball who like, spouts
gibberish from ancient movies nobody like, cares about any more."
Kurt clasped at her heart, "Oh, wounded to the quick. Fatally stabbed
by the arrow of intolerance - and by such a *charming* heathen...
ugh..." and collapsed theatrically back onto the bed.
Kitty was unimpressed. She'd seen Kurt do this sort of thing a hundred
times before, though admittedly most of it was after one of Kurt's
infamous Movie From the Dawn of Time Nights. "You are *way* better at
overacting when you're blue, you know."
Kurt opened an eye. "Didn't it cheer you up?"
"No."
Kurt sat back up, serious again. "Then - it's *really* bad news. How
bad is bad?"
"You don't wanna know. Assuming you can't like, guess or something."
Kurt rose to the challenge. "All right then. Let's use my amazing non-
mutant powers of perception..." Kurt put her fingers to her temples and
stared at Kitty, who had already reined in the tail and was schooling
himself to remain blank and unreadable. "What's the worst thing that
could happen? Wolverine shot himself, and is now running around as... a
five-year-old girl named Tiffany?"
In spite of himself, Kitty sniggered.
"No, no. Not that. Uh... I'm getting something. Ah, yes, of course.
Wolverine shot *Sabretooth*, who is now a small black and white kitten?"
Now Kitty was giggling.
"Wait, wait, wait... Scott and Jean have swapped and they're both
enjoying it *way* too much; especially the bit about wearing pantyhose?"
An all-out belly laugh, this time, replete with a gasping attempt at,
"Cut it *out*..."
Kurt refused to relent. "The Professor's gone crazy and went and shot
*Magneto*--"
"Stoppit..."
"--who has a whole new outlook on life now that he's Christina
Aguilera."
"You're gonna choke your own body to death, elf," Kitty gasped. "I
can't breathe."
"So get revenge," Kurt suggested.

Ororo was worried. Neither Kurt nor Kitty had come down for breakfast
and, now that the general morning melee had cleared out at the mention
of dish-washing, she was beginning to wonder about their health and
safety. She set up a tray and carried it upstairs. If they were still
asleep, they'd at least have something to eat when they woke up.
It wasn't every day that one spent a day in someone else's body. It
was bound to have side-effects.
Ororo sneaked the door open to find raucus laughter on the other side.
"Nonono... Ororo's a burly tough-guy bikie type called 'Crunch'!"
"Nein! A redneck in southern Utah!"
Case in point. Whatever game of Silly they were playing, it seemed to
be keeping their spirits up, but all the same, why *her* as a target?
"A redneck *senator* in southern Utah!"
"Who's a member of the KKK!"
"Morning," said Ororo. "Having fun?"
"Ut-oh... busted," said Kitty.
"It'snotwhatyouthink," said Kurt.
Ororo couldn't help but smile. "Considering the day you two had
yesterday, I'm amazed that you're up to playing Silly this morning. When
you're *quite* done, your breakfast is here."
"Uh..." said Kurt. "I thought the English expression was, 'Silly
Bug--'"
"*Not* if we want a chance of not being grounded when we get back to
being ourselves," Kitty interrupted.
"Ah." Kurt made a zipping motion across her mouth. "Shutting up now."
Of course, the effort of not laughing resulted in quiet snickers and
giggles and mutual 'shh's from both of them. Storm's enigmatic smile did
little to help the situation either.
They deserved a little time to play. Even if they weren't - as Kitty
put it - completely themselves. Ororo envied their ability to find
frivolity and live for the moment.
"I'll let you get back you your game," she told them as she left. Not
that it would be too hard. She closed the door on another outburst of
laughter, only to find Logan propping up the wall near the door.
"So how are the kids?"
If the outburst through the door didn't tell him... "In surprisingly
high spirits, considering."
"I'd watch 'em," said Logan. "Might be a false high."
"*Logan*... they're having fun. *I* would let them."
"You forget, darlin' these kids are better at lyin' to themselves than
each other, and they're both stressed to the snapping point. Somethin's
gonna break, and we'd better pray that it's going to be good news."

Bacon... Irresistable, greasy, salty, and above all, forbidden-for-the-
interim bacon... Kurt inhaled the aroma for the fifth time and tried not
to drool.
"Kurt..."
Over there, on the dresser, under the covered tray, was the breakfast
of Kurt's dreams.
"Kurt!"
"Glah?" she managed. Couldn't Kitty sense it's glistening presence?
"It's like, been your turn for ages?"
"Breakfast?" said Kurt.
Kitty rolled his eyes. "I swear, you *still* think with your stomach.
Even when it's mine."
With that much thin permission, Kurt leaped towards the tray, opened
the cover in question and deeply inhaled his favourite aroma.
"Absolutely *NOT*, Kurt."
"I know," Kurt sighed and put the tray cover back. "Scrambled eggs?"
"No."
"Flapjacks?"
"Yes, but no butter or syrup."
"Aawwwww..." Kurt pouted. "You have no fun, you know that?"
"Sure I have fun. I *shop*."
"Oh, ja. That's fun," Kurt sarcasmed, dishing herself out some
flapjacks. "Lets look at exactly the same shirt twenty times in fifteen
different stores and then complain that it isn't your colour. What fun.
How fun. Imagine my glee."
"Kurt..."
"Oh, and let's not forget the whirlwind exitement of Let's-see-how-
many-males-I-can-get-in-tow-hauling-my-gear-for-me. Oh yes. A laugh
riot."
"*Kurt*!" Kitty snapped. "*You're* the one stupid enough to say 'Ja,
sure' every time I ask if you like, *want* to go shopping."
"That's like asking a cat if it wants what you're eating, and you
*know* it!"
"Meaning *what*, exactly?"
"Meaning I can't help it." Kurt flomped down and started eating the
plain flapjacks. "You look like I do and you don't *get* pretty girls asking
you to go *anywhere* with them."
Kitty stopped himself mid-retort. Admittedly, it started with an 'oh
yeah' and had very little after it, but it was nearly a snappy comeback.
Almost. "You - think I'm pretty?"
"When you're you, ja. Of course. Why shouldn't you be pretty?"
"*Duh*," said Kitty. "It's not like I'm a size six any more, y'know.
I'm like, *huge*..."
"And I thought *I* had a bad self-image... what *is* this American
obsession with changing your shape before you even know what shape
you're supposed to *be*?"
"I wouldn't expect *you* to understand."
"Ja, ja, ja. I used to work in a *tent* and live with gypsies in tiny
little village in the middle of nowhere in the Bavarian Alps. I know
nothing of your sophisticated American ways..."
"No. You're a *guy*. Guys never understand."
"But - if you're not doing this for impressing 'cute guys' - then
what--- *Why*?"
"It's because of --" Kitty cut off. There *used* to be a perfectly
good reason. "It's just that we need to - um..." Kitty waved his finger
in the air, as if trying to work invisible gears in the air. "Y'know...
I don't really *know*."
"*HA*! So can I now have butter?"
"You can have I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. It's better for you."
"Rrrmph..." Kurt, though whining under her breath, still made her way
back to the breakfast tray to spread butter substitute on her flapjacks.
"*I* can believe it's not butter..." she grumbled. "Artificial mess."
"Your arteries will thank me for it later," Kitty soothed.
"Nein. They're *your* arteries. *My* arteries are still sitting over
there, crying out with the rest of my body for *food*." Kurt finished
her current flapjack. "I will be *so* glad when we get back to
*normal*."
Kitty *couldn't* hide the truth. "Kurt?"
"Ja?"
"The Professor like, doesn't have a clue."
"Haha, that is such a little joke. Since when does the Professor *not*
know anything?"
"I'm serious, Kurt. I found his notes this morning and - he doesn't
know what to do. We could be stuck like this forever."
Kurt put her plate down. "No wonder you were so depressed."
"Yeah. Our life is like, one gigantic chinese puzzle box that's like,
totally glued down. There's nowhere to *start*."
"Ja. I don't know why he doesn't just shoot us again and see what
happens next."
"Yeah." Kitty watched his tail for a moment. "Hey, *yeah*... That's
like, so stupid it's next to brilliant!"
"Thank you, I think..."
But Kitty was no longer listening. He grabbed Kurt's hand and started
dragging her towards the study. "Come *on*. We gotta at least *try* it.
It's not like things could get *worse*."
"Ja, but every time you say that, they *do* get worse. Remember the
bleeding thing?"
"Tch... *Kurt*. Honestly, if I have to tell you *one* more time..."
"I know what the word is!" Kurt said quickly. "I just don't want to
use it."
"So hurry up and stop being such a wuss. The Professor could wake up
at any minute and like, stop us."
"And this is such a good idea because-?"
"Because nobody is going to *do* it. *Duh*."
"Ah," said Kurt. "Must have something to do with the famous American
sense of adventure, nein?"
"Cut it *out*, Kurt. What's the worst that could happen."
"Hello? We just spent all morning on that, Kitty. Small fluffy
kittens? Big no-brains called 'Crunch'? Trust me, there's plenty of
things worse than death that that thing could do to us."
"Right about now, *anything* looks better than spending the rest of
*my* life, as *you*, making sure you don't screw my body up."
"Hey. Being an elf isn't *all* bad, you know."
"Let's just say that I don't think much of the perks. Now shut up, we
need to sneak past the Professor."
"Jawohl..." Kurt sighed. "As you wish."

"Kitty! Such language..."
"I told you to shoosh. Now like, *shoosh*."
"Maybe it'd be better if I held it."
Charles snapped awake. There were certain elements of youthful
conversation that an adult never wanted to hear. Anything containing the
phrase 'give it' was automatically in the top ten. In Charles' case, it
was anything in Cerebro's chamber that included bickering.
But - he was still *in* Cerebro's chamber. Wasn't he?
He took stock. Someone had moved him to a more comfortable position -
and chair - during the night. They'd thoughtfully left his chair within
reach, but now two of his students were about to risk their lives.
"Kurt!" He called. "Kitty! *NO*!"
"Crud. Okay. My fingers are thinner than yours. You shoot."
"Who's shooting again? You lost me."
"Just like, shut up and shoot us, elf."
Telekinesis wasn't his forte, but desperation inspired him to levitate
himself into his wheelchair. He wheeled around to face Cerebro, Kitty
and Kurt - an instant too late.
"Right. One. Two. Thr--"
{Bzat!}
Charles couldn't remember what he screamed, only that he did so as he
rushed - far too slowly, far too late - to their side. What had they
done? What had he let them do? Finally, he reached the nearest arm and
felt for a pulse.
"Urgh..." said Kurt's body. "Nie weider, I promise. Just make the room
stop spinning if you please..."
"Kurt?" Charles asked. "You're - *you* again?"
"My hair hurts," he complained. "And on me, that's saying something...
Ooohh... Kitty?" He jostled her into a sitting position. "Kitty, wake
up, it worked."
For a terrifying moment, Kitty Pryde was still, pale and insensate.
Charles could feel Kurt's climbing anxiety during that vertiginous
second.
"Mrghl..." Kitty managed. "Owww..."
"It worked. It really worked. We're ourselves again."
Kitty laughed. "I never thought I'd be so glad to see your fuzzy face
from the *outside*... That's like, something I *never* want to do
again."
"You and me both." Kurt reached up to the 'topknot' Kitty had put in
his hair when she was him and scrabbled at it. "Now how do you get this
*thing* off?"
"Oh, you're like, doing it totally wrong. C'mere."
"Ow. Ow. Ow. *OW*! What have you been *doing* to my *hair*?"
"Same thing you did to mine. Almost totally ruined it."
Charles interrupted yet another incipient argument with, "Do you two
realise that was probably the *stupidest* thing either of you could have
*done*? You scared me half to death."
"Sorry, Professor," they chorussed.
"But it *had* to work," Kitty argued. "It was so stupid it was like,
totally *brilliant*. Kurt came up with it."
"Once again, thank-you-I-think." Kurt gathered his shattered dignity
and pulled himself upright, stretching as he did so. There was an
accompanying series of cracks and pops, even from his tail. "Agh... What
have you been *doing* to me, fraulein? Every single *joint* is out of
kilter."
"*Me*? What have *you* been doing? I swear I've got like, charley
horse all *over*. Ow..."
Now Kurt was tying himself in knots, and untying them, ever so
casually, while he was talking. "I'm sure it's nothing a nice hot shower
couldn't cure, right?"
"A nice, *solitary* shower. And could you please quit doing that?
You're making me uncomfortable just looking at you."
"Sure. I'll just help myself to the bacon and eggs, then. And the
sausages. And the toast."
"*Ick*..."
Charles let them go. The adjustment period was shorter, now that they
were back to being their normal selves, and both of their psyches seemed
to be returning to base levels. Of course, there was more for them to
argue about, but that would settle down into their usual good-natured
bickering soon enough.
Amazing how they'd both agreed on one thing - never to mention the
entire mess to anyone else - without agreeing on anything else for the
duration.

{BAMF!}
"Help you move?"
"Thanks, but like, no thanks. Sulfur and brimstone tends to like,
cling to knits?"
"Hot chocolate, then?"
"No fat, no sugar, and I'll think about it."
"Again with the diets?"
"It *happens* to be better for me. This week."
"Ah. Just the chocolate. Gotcha." {BAMF!}
Kitty shook her head. He'd just spent twenty-four hours in her body -
*literally* in her pants - and he still wanted to hang around and watch.
The G-rated parts of course. Silly elf. Dumb guy.
{BAMF!} "Your chocolate, madame. Replete with non-dairy creamer and
artificial sugar. Just the way you like it."
"Oh yeah," Kitty agreed sarcastically. "With that special garnish of
blue fur and a dash of eau-de-'port. Lovely."
"You're welcome," he said, and watched her drink the chocolate.

Kitty caught him reading in the library, hanging on the wall as was his
wont.
"Hey fuzzy," she called.
"Get a watch," he replied with a grin.
"I'm going out shopping. Wanna come with?"
"You are *so* cruel..." Kurt joked.
"No. *This* time, I'll be stopping at some of the stores *you* like.
I'll even buy you that dumb Beatles collection you've been pining over
for like, the last three months."
"You call them dumb again, and fraulein, I shall have to buy you that
shirt that isn't your colour."
"Deal."

~The End~