Yay! Kudos to meinen schwester for letting me run rampant with her laptop so as to bypass the dumbarse security on my own laptop. THANK YOU!!!
Kudos to Caprichoso for beta reading my fic as well, your scrutinizing made it all so much better. I hope no one minds, but the second part, in Xavier's POV, was entirely re-written by Caprichoso. As such, Capri deserves all the credit and I hope it doesn't count as plagiarism. It was just too awesome to try my own hand at. Thank you :)
This is a fic inspired by and based on SuperherogirlCat's three-chapter comic strip, "Snowball Fight" on DeviantArt. Please don't kill me! Like it has fanart, I thought 'Why can't it have fanfiction?' So… here it is. It's a friendship fic about teen Logan and Kurt when Kurt first moves in, though I know the comic was pre-slash.
Disclaimer:The idea and background info belongs to/was chosen by SuperherogirlCat and the X-Men and all related characters belong to Marvel. If I owned Marvel, I would be rich, Kurt would have gone back to normal after the priestness and I would have hired decent writers and thought up decent storylines i.e. NOT Holy War.
At Xavier's mutant Academy, the day started normally for Logan. He got up, got washed and dressed, came downstairs and ate breakfast with a bunch of people who either were afraid him or ignored him completely. Well, there were a few people who tried to reach out to him, and he appreciated that they were trying, but they could never understand.
"Good morning, Logan!"
"Hey there, sugar."
"Did you sleep well, comrade?"
He replied to all of these with a grunt. He wasn't exactly talkative.
Logan's life— what he could remember of it— had been a living hell, starting with Weapon X. He still had nightmares about it; they had become less frequent over the past month, although no less terrifying. They had thought they could make a living weapon out of him, and the fact the other students were constantly reminding him of this wasn't at all helping his supposed rehabilitation.
"The Wolverine" would never admit how much pain it caused him, not in a million years, and he relished the sensation of control he felt when others would cower in his presence. Others' submission made him feel powerful: dominance was in his feral nature.
Still, he had a human side as well, albeit a side hidden behind six-inch adamantium walls that no one could penetrate. It was a side that ached for companionship of some kind— someone who saw beyond the animal, beyond the broken soul, saw him. The Canadian teen quickly pushed that thought to the back of his mind, and checked his timetable. He growled, drawing attention from the young mutants around him.
He had Physics (It's just complicated maths, if maths can get any more difficult), a Danger Room simulation, Film Studies (Even our teacher thinks the movies suck), lunch, a memory session with Professor X (They ain't gettin' us anywhere); Psychology (Is he hintin' at somethin'?) then a free period followed by "The Moral Rights and Wrongs of Utilising Mutant Gifts," which was pretty much an hour of Professor X laying down rules of how far to go when using your 'abilities' to manipulate others. Logan couldn't do that. Well, he could, technically, but only to a certain (and short) extent before he'd be forced to kill them, so he was constantly left wondering why he had to sit through Chuck's patronising lecture as he just went on and on...
"Hey, sugar? It's time for classes."
True to the southern belle's words, the majority of the students had cleared by now, and it was the gruff teen's turn to get up and make his way down the corridor to his first session.
Professor Charles Xavier was nervous. This was by no means a frequent occurrence for him, but today was one of the few occasions that merited such a state.
A new student was arriving from Bavaria this afternoon, one whose mutation had given him a… unique appearance. The Mansion was already home to a blue-furred mutant, Dr. Henry McCoy, and the Academy's young inhabitants had welcomed him with far fewer troubles than Xavier might have expected. Still, despite his students' warm reception of Mr. McCoy, Charles had always suspected that their cordiality owed itself more than slightly to his status as a teacher. How his young charges would react to an obvious physical mutation in one of their own remained to be seen.
There also remained the matter of the rather traumatic events in the German mutant's life directly prior to the Professor's intervention; the spectacle at Winzeldorf had been just one example of the incredible persecution the boy had faced in his short life. Nonetheless, these hardships had made the young man resilient in both body and mind, well prepared to deal with all sorts of adversity. He had great faith in his new charge. It was not persecution that had the world's greatest telepath so apprehensive; the problem was much more mundane, yet at the same time, it was possibly even more volatile.
All but one of the boys at the Academy already had roommates, and there was certainly good reason for the one who had not been paired with anyone to remain alone. Xavier and the other teachers had considered asking two of the girls in the Mansion to share a room in order to leave one vacant for the new arrival, but the general consensus had been that the two girls would likely begin to harbor some resentment towards each other, the instructors, and especially the newcomer. Such sentiments might interfere with his ability to settle in and adjust to his new life, and they definitely would not do the emotionally scarred German any good in the long run. This left one solution, and despite Charles having proposed the idea in the first place, he had no idea whether the results would be beneficial or cataclysmic. Stated quite simply, there was only one boy without a roommate, and in a few hours he would have a roommate. What happened after that—
The Professor's thoughts were interrupted as the airline passengers from Germany began shuffling out of the gate. Events had been set in motion; now he could only observe as they played out. He pulled a placard from beside his leg and displayed it calmly upon his lap: Wagner.
Logan's day so far had been relatively dull— that is, relative to the usual cacophony that constantly echoed through the halls, and made his super-sensitive ears hurt. All of his classes had been long and boring, and the Danger Room session had been another re-run after Logan had been unable to cover quite everyone's slip-ups last time. He didn't this time either, but Remy and Piotr had been on the ball and had covered the rest, so that simulation was one they were hopefully not going to have to see again. Remy was one of the very few students who had some decent skill and control, and Piotr had a habit of sensing when his team mate needed space, so were the only people other than Professor Xavier that the Canadian respected. Although Rogue and Kitty were nice, and he would defend them if necessary, they didn't understand what "personal space" meant. Granted, they let him have time alone but they were determined to get some kind of conversation out of him.
Logan had had an unexpected free period when his memory session was cancelled because the Professor was otherwise engaged.
"Gee, thanks, Chuck." He spoke to no one in particular. Although no progress had been made, Wolverine was far from giving up. He knew there would be another session but was simply too impatient to wait for tomorrow, and waiting was one of the things that got him climbing the walls, alongside being stuck indoors. Still, the cancellation gave him a chance to get outside.
Seeing him come out was one Remy LeBeau, who proceeded to announce a competition between himself and several challengers. He often did this, either with sporting events or gambling, to draw the attention of others on free period away from the "cold-blooded killer" with tufty sideburns that everyone hassled Logan for.
Despite his crudeness and incurable infatuation with the opposite sex, Remy had a sense of decency about him and a… an understanding? No, it wasn't that. Not really. More like sympathy, but it wouldn't be a complete surprise for him to just be doing it to steal the spotlight. Anyway, Gambit's flamboyance and pride kept Logan from bringing himself within earshot of the Cajun, never mind tolerating a conversation. Not only was the "swamp rat" almost always surrounded by people; he was just plain infuriating. Logan had overheard him once saying, "Remy gots a reputation to keep up."
Either way, the lone wolf didn't care what Gumbo thought, or anyone else for that matter. Or at least, that's what he told himself. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to believe it or not just yet.
After psychology, Logan had returned to his room for his scheduled free period. He didn't like being cooped up too long, but he'd gotten some air and right now there were more people outside than in class, meandering around. The last thing the gruff teen wanted was to watch people's "displays" wherever he went, and it was much quieter inside than earlier. The lack of gasps and whispers presented the tortured soul with a much welcomed reprieve. So, to take advantage of the calm moment, he was reading a book. It was a good book full of action and explosions with just the teensiest bit of romance and an awful lot of great humour.
Logan smelled the Academy's founder and principal before he arrived, so bookmarked his page and shoved the book in his drawer. There was another scent as well, unfamiliar… a new student? It was an interesting scent, to say the least: fur, brimstone and cologne, probably trying to cover up the brimstone. A strange combination, fur and brimstone, but it was good. Unique, distinctive. The door opened, and in wheeled Charles Xavier.
"Hey, Prof. Why'd ya skip out on our session?"
The Professor smiled. "This is why." A teenage boy walked in, about the same height as Logan, carrying that distinctive scent.
"Logan, this is going to be your roommate." That was news to him. Still, the blue-furred, golden-eyed newbie had captured his attention. He had three fingers, navy blue hair and golden irises with no pupils. He also had two toes, pointed ears and a spaded tail. He was wearing a loose red t-shirt and brown trousers, and a crucifix around his neck.
Logan himself wore a fitted white t-shirt, brown jacket and jeans, contrasting with almost-black hair, icy blue eyes and muttonchops in the making.
The physical assessments were done in under half a second, but they had yet to react.
"His name is—"
"Kurt." The stranger interrupted, a fanged smile gracing his lips. "My name is Kurt Wagner. Dankeschön, uh, thank you for allowing me to stay here. Ach, sorry, Guten tag Logan…?"
"Just Logan." He couldn't remember his surname, or his first one for that matter. Logan was an alias, but it worked.
"Sehr gut. It is a pleasure to meet you, Just Logan." There was no smell of fear, no trembling, no shaky voice, his heart rate, breathing rate and temperature were all normal. This combined with his obvious joke showed he had no qualms with the mutant before him. The feeling was mutual.
Still smiling, the demon-like German offered his hand in greeting. In an instant, the feeling of apprehension was gone. Before Charles fully realised the unfolding events, Logan was shaking hands with the new student, a mildly bemused smirk on his face.
Xavier felt unexpected pride swell up inside of him, pride both in himself for making the right decision, and in his charge. He had been almost afraid of what Logan's unpredictable reaction might have been; what was occuring now could be called nothing short of a miracle. The pair had immediately begun to bond with each other. He'd never seen Logan so sociable with anyone, let alone rather an oddity whom he had just met. Perhaps Kurt could even help the awkward feral connect with other students. But Charles was moving too quickly: his student and charge only been in the same room together for a few moments. "One step at a time." he reminded himself.
He was loathe to put an end to this promising scene, but Logan's free period had finished.
"You two will have plenty of time to get to know each other later, for now I have a session."
Logan had a mischievous glint in his eye, his infamous "almost smile" making an appearance. "Ok, you teach, I'll tour."
"No, Logan, you have to attend my class." He spoke again before the troublesome student could protest, "I'm sure Kurt can explore by himself."
A defeated sigh was followed by an "I'll see you later, Elf."
It took Kurt a moment to realise he was "Elf". Still, it was better than Dämon.
"Um, ja, later." A grin and small wave signalled their parting, and as the bald telepath made his way down the hall, followed by an unusually contented Logan, he smiled to himself. Very promising indeed.
My first fic! Tell me what you think, good, bad, awful? Compliments are good, constructive criticism is welcome but flames are BAD. No flaming! If you flame, my head will explode and infect your computer with a virus that will eat you files. The same has been known to happen when I've read accents... I don't know why. Sorry.
Dankeschön: Thank you
Guten tag: Hello/Good day
Sehr Gut: Very good
Jawohl: Yes sir
So this is why I purposely left out Kurt's accent, because it drives me nuts when it's written. I couldn't leave out his and not everyone else's, so that's fair, right? I'm not planning on writing a sequel but if enough review express the desire for one, I may comply.
Your Friendly Neighbourhood Bamf :)