Chapter 1
Crisis averted. Kurt sighed, sinking into the cushions of the couch. He propped his feet up on one of the cushions, relaxing for the first time in years. Thank God.
He exhaled again, rolling over to look at the crackling fireplace of one of the Mansion’s many common rooms. It was raining outside, he noticed. He didn’t think they’d be able to defeat En Sabah Nur (or as many knew him, Apocalypse), but to his surprise they destroyed the evil mutant and… well, saved the world.
It sounded so weird, even in his head. Saved the world. Rettete die Welt. No matter what language he said it, it still was such an odd thing to think about. He, a poor, abandoned mutant that once performed in a circus, saved the world. With his friends. Friends? Is that what they were?
His tail flicked off the side of the couch, draping itself over the end armrest by his feet. They had to be friends, right? Or maybe… family?
He stopped himself. No. Not family. Not yet, anyway. He’d been living in the Mansion with the other mutants for a few months now, but Xavier finally confirmed En Sabah’s death only yesterday. He had been scanning across multiple telepathic wavelengths with the help of Jean and Cerebro, and only just now could confirm that yes, Apocalypse was gone for good.
Now, everyone could relax. He reached over the couch, grabbing for his book. He felt the worn leather in his two digits as he pulled it up to him and flipped to his place. He had read this book many, many times over of course, but he always came back to it.
The Practice of the Presence of God. A humble book from 1895 about a man who begins as a starving monk and becomes privy to all the secrets of God. He smiled, flicking through the pages. He sighed one last time as he settled into the cushions and began to read.
Moments passed. Perhaps it was minutes. Maybe even thirty. The rain did not stop. The fire was beginning to burn low. Not low enough to warrant rekindling, but low enough for Kurt to notice. He stretched, his muscles tense from his position. He leaned back, yawning and pulling his arms backwards over the couch’s armrest.
He hit someone.
“Ah!” He yelped, disappearing in a puff of smoke and leaving only the book and an indent in the cushions behind. He reappeared in the corner of the room, only his yellow eyes showing in the darkness.
A silver-haired boy was laughing loudly, slapping his knees in mirth. He wiped a tear from his eye. “Man, you are jumpy!” He said before doubling over again. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted dinner. Raven cooked. Which is… unusual for her.” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Seems to me like she is bored.”
Kurth unstiffened from his corner. It was just Peter.
“Oh, Peter...” He said awkwardly, trying to recover from his scare. “I, uh… would like food, yes.” He nodded a bit.
Peter looked him up and down. “You okay, dude?” He asked, concerned. “You don’t have to be scared around here.”
Kurt nodded again. “Ah, yes. I, um… understand. It is just… hm.” He stopped, clicking his claws in thought. “Word… what’s the word...”
"Funny?” Peter supplied, grinning again.
“No, no…”
“Hilarious?”
“No, that’s not it...” His accent was becoming worse as he tried to think of the word.
“…did I already say funny?”
“Instinctual!” Kurt said loudly, smiling from ear to it. “It is just instinctual.”
“From what?” Peter was still grinning, cocking an eyebrow. “Is this like a schadenfreude thing? But maybe a jumpscare version of it?” He chuckled. “Cuz I got you good.”
Kurt tilted his head in confusion. “Schadenfreude?” He asked, completely throwing Peter off with his perfect pronunciation (He had mispronounced it as ‘shao-dun-froid’). “That’s pleasure in someone else’s suffering.” He looked at Peter. “Is that what you’re feeling?”
Peter blushed immediately. Something had clearly been lost in translation. “No, no! I just, I was playing a prank! Like, a joke!” He looked away from Kurt, embarrassed and unable to meet those piercing yellow eyes. “I was just trying to make a joke...”
Immediately, all animosity from Kurt vanished. “And you just fell for mine!” He began laughing. “You should have seen the look on your face!” It was his turn to double over. “I’m not so sensitive, Peter. I slept in a cage for ten years.”
Peter’s blush intensified. He was not used to being on the receiving end of a joke. His quick wit and physical mutation usually allowed him to be the joker, not the jokee. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Then he realized something.
“A cage?” He asked. “You slept in a cage?”
Kurt was still smiling, but Peter saw something in his eyes change. He walked around the couch, re-arranging his cushions to make it more presentable. “Yes. It’s not important.” He sighed, something he was really getting used to around the Mansion. “It is in the past.” His tail flicked happily, nudging Peter’s boot.
“Oh, sorry. It does that sometimes.”
“No, no it’s fine.” Peter said, still looking at Kurt as he tidied up the couch. “Is that why?”
Kurt looked at him, confused. “Is that why what?”
“Is that why you’re jumpy-” Peter cut himself off. His motor-mouth was about to get him into trouble again. He liked Kurt, and he liked the new friends he was making around the Mansion.
Maybe he had just lost another one.
But Kurt kept smiling. “You like questions.” He said simply. “It fits you.” He finished straightening the last cushion. “There’s a lot of reasons. That is one of them, yes.” He bent to pick up his book, placing it on the armrest. “But like I said, it is in the past. Nothing from the past can hurt you.” He looked down at his claws, his blue skin. “It is the future that is the most scary.”
Peter was more curious now than ever. “How do you… deal with it?” He asked, trying to tread lightly. He was used to getting unusually deep with his friends (due to the aforementioned motor-mouth), but this felt… different. Kurt was open and honest. It didn’t feel like he was just putting up with Peter to get him to go away.
“I have God.” Kurt replied, tapping the book. “I have my faith. And now, I have all of you wonderful people.” He spread his arms wide, his grin baring his sharp, razor-like teeth. “So, I am not afraid. Worried, but not afraid.”
Peter shimmied uncomfortably, his boot digging into the carpet. “I have problems with people. They think I’m too fast or too annoying or I just don’t listen or they don’t listen.” He was beginning to ramble. “I think I feel the same as you. Worried, not afraid. I’ve got my sister.” He nudged the side of the couch, as if trying to occupy his mind. “I’ve got my mom. I’ve got you.” He paused, eyes wide at his slip. “-guys. I’ve got you guys.”
Kurt didn’t even notice. “I am glad. It is nice to feel welcome.” He stopped, his nostriles flaring. “Is that… the food?”
Peter hadn’t even noticed the smell until now. It was a dark, smoky odor.
Too smoky.
The alarms in the Mansion began blaring. Peter could hear Raven roar, “Fuck it! We’re ordering delivery!”