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Chapter 5: Please have snow and mistletoe

On Christmas Eve, they all sat down around the big dining table in the mansion. Over the years the big dinner had migrated from Christmas Day to the 24th to accommodate for the consequences the Eve's evening party had on the number of people gathered around the long table. There was no use trying to postpone the party itself – regardless of agreements and arrangements, one of the mansion's residents always felt like celebrating and what started out as a few beers between two friends in the rec room always snowballed into a full-tilt party.

When they were finally allowed into the great formal dining room the combined smells of all the delicacies laid out on the table hit Kendall like a hammer between the eyes. The table itself seemed to sag slightly under the weight of the wide variety of dishes that reflected the diversity of cultures seated around its expanse.

There was the yearly fuss over who got to cut the meat between Remy, Scott and her father, resulting in squabbling and growling and glares, but it was all in good spirits. She was too full after the morning's bout of gluttony to lust after the roast anyway – the bakeapple pie particularly had vanished almost into thin air. Even the toast and beans Logan insisted on at Christmas breakfasts had felt festive and rare instead of boring and cheap. It was the same with her mother's sukuma wiki and ugali – although it normally was a simple, mundane dish, it felt like a treat because they had it only on special occasions.

She watched her Uncle Remy, seated across her, pop chestnuts in his hands by charging them. He leaned over to her mother, apparently engrossed in conversation. He produced chestnut from behind her ear like a magician and popped it right beside her ear to startle her. She jumped in her seat, then quickly jammed a steak knife down between the fingers of his other hand in retribution, the silver blade waving back and forth and ringing like a tiny bell as it vibrated stuck in the wood of the table. Kendall snickered at Gambit's surprised flinch. His red eyes fixed on hers, the devil's own smile on his lips, his hands busy rolling a cigarette.

“You t'ink it funny to scare ol' Tountoun Remy half t'death, Chèrie?”

“Doesn't everyone, Gumbo?” her father rumbled from his seat her mother's right side, giving his own steak knife a contemplative glance. “Might do well to find the other half some time, too.”

“Be t' death of us both, mon ami, dese ladies of yours”, Uncle Remy said with an unflappable grin.

“Yeah, but what a way to go, eh?” Her father stole fire to his cigar from one of the tall votive candles on the table and kicked his chair back, sending a plume of smoke towards the ceiling. A moment later another trail of haze followed from Uncle Remy's cigarette and her mother gave a thoroughly disgusted long-suffering groan between them, setting a buff of air into motion with a dramatic upwards wave.

Kendall turned her attention to her pumpkin pie and hid her smile wisely, taking note on how her mother silently palmed her father's steak knife at the same time her other hand was in mid-gesture. It was going to be a good evening if Storm was indulging in knife fights and ten-finger discounts – it meant less imperious nagging and more leeway for Kendall.

After dinner had been cleared up they had settled back in the living room, a log blazing cheerily in the fire and a comfortable atmosphere of stuffed stupor hanging in the air. The eggnog and punch still enjoyed some popularity and conversation flowed easily between people lounging on the overstuffed armchairs and sofas.

Couples sat together, casually entwined in each other and discussing grown-up stuff from days of yonder. Kendall wasn't really interested in that, having heard the same old stories over and over again growing up. The few handfuls of students of her age that had stayed in the mansion for the holidays apparently hadn't heard the tales, though, and were paying politely rapt attention when the old farts regaled their new victims with never-ending yarns of How It Was When We Were Your Age. Apparently pigeons had been fatter, for starters.

There were a few kids here too, but Kendall felt too full to play hide-and-seek and clapping games with them. Dylan didn't seem to suffer from the same problem, though, and ran around with a few of his friends making a racket and laughing madly on a chocolate pudding sugar high. Her best friend Prudence called it “kiddie crack” and they both cringed at the inevitable hyperactivity in the kids on the days it was served as dessert on school lunches – Kendall for her sensitive ears, Prudence out of irritation.

Born with no apparently useful mutant abilities Pru was limited to ducking and rolling when the superpowered kids got out of hand. Her mutation simply gave her perfect strawberry blonde hair, nails that grew twice as fast as normally and flawless skin save for an explosive case of freckles on her face and chest. Not exactly something that might save the world some day, but Kendall had seen enough of the life the X-men led to envy her friend like hell for that. But Pru wasn't here this Christmas and Kendall was left to fight boredom all by herself. She longed for her cellphone that she'd been forced to leave at the boathouse.

Kendall wandered back to the dining room, her mind still slightly fuzzy in the aftermath of eating herself silly at dinner. She felt a bit out of place in the sitting room where everyone was so wrapped up in their little conversations. Her feet took her through the hallways and service entrances to the scene of the gluttonous crime, now tidy and empty. The dining room was dim, lit only by the tiny lights strung above the window frames.

Something about the hush of midwinter and the crisp blue night called to her and made her want for solitude. She stood by the full-length windows and crouched down to better take in the deep blue night sky peppered with stars. The nearly full disc of the Moon hovered like a paper lamp over the grounds. There was fragile tension in the air outside, the turning point of seasons from winter to spring so near she was almost able to taste it past the lingering remains of the mushy peas.

It was annoying, this tickling tug at the back of her skull, the strange and familiar ebb just inside her temples like a second pulse. It was just over eighteen months since she'd first felt it, the staccato thrum of the sky's dome rattling her nerves and constantly gauging her emotions like a huge lie detector wired straight into her noggin. It had left her paranoid about self-control, having had numerous people warn her about letting her feelings run amok based on what happened when her mother's control slipped.

Kendall didn't get the enthralled look in her mother's eyes when there was a front of rain rolling in over the lake – in fact, it was a bit too Village Of The Damned for her taste. Still she couldn't deny the subconscious radar that seemed to have developed in her, and there was something incredibly neat about not needing to watch Weather Channel for tomorrow's weather. Nowadays, Kendall just knew. Still, she'd give it all up tomorrow if it wasn't for flying. That had changed everything, set something inside her free of tethers she never knew she'd had.

Kendall didn't know how long she had crouched by the window lost in her own thoughts, but her toes had gone to sleep when a fleet of scurrying children startled her out of her reverie. They ran right past her to the kitchen, not noticing her still form on the other side of the dining table.

Kendall's ears picked up music and laughter from the living room and she made her way back there in hopes of charming a few roasted chestnuts out of her Uncle Remy. She studiously ignored her parents making out like a couple of college kids in the hall, under what looked suspiciously like a sprig of mistletoe stuck to the stairway banister with a steak knife. Eeech!

Uncle Remy was sitting by the fire in one of the antique loveseats with Aunt Rogue curled up next to him. His red eyes spotted her immediately as she stepped into the room. He motioned her closer with a curled finger that flew quickly to his lips to signal for quiet – just why escaped Kendall, as her Aunt seemed content in her sleep regardless of the loud music in the room.

“Been up since de crac' o'dawn wit' de food, silly t'ing,” Uncle Remy said with a rueful smile as she sat down on an ottoman by his feet, sticking her own toes closer to the fire to catch the toasty warmth. “Same story ev'ry year: Remy try f'r a romantic ev'nin' and chère falls asleep on 'er feet.”

“Maybe you should, like, re-script the romance if you put her to sleep with it every time?”

“Y' come t' mock an ol' man on C'ristmas Eve?” Remy pressed a hand to his heart in mock tragedy.

“Cut me some slack, I'm a traumatised youngster. Damaged goods, noodle-wise.”

“Ah, Stormy put de knife to good use, eh? You join Remy's club o' retinal cleansing.”

“I swear, I don't know which is creepier, seeing them playing tongue hockey like a couple of kids of/my age or commiserating about it with someone who's their age,” Kendall groaned.

“Y' wound me, petite, Remy's not 'alf as old as your father,” her Uncle said and made a face. “Speaking of people your age, where's dat young man who been makin' moony eyes at you?”

“I don't know who you're talkin' about,” Kendall said and blamed the heat on her face on the popping log in the fireplace.

“Sure y'do, chère. Dat Petty boy, he ready t' follow you 'round like a puppy an' you been ignorin' 'im like a pro,” Remy said quietly enough for only Kendall's sensitive ears to hear, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Rogue's ear. He gave an almost imperceptible jerk of his head in the stereo's general direction, where most of the people were gathered. “Boy came back early an' you don't even say hello to 'im but there he still is, antsy as a cat at de vet's office.”

“He... he came back? I thought he was gone for Christmas,” she whispered urgently. Kendall risked a neck-snapping glance over her shoulder and found the lanky, tall form leaning against the wall, red-haired head bent towards some blonde girl and her tittering friends. There was a low growl rising in the back of her throat before she could slap the lid on her instincts. Less territorial, Kennie, she told herself,more incredulous. Definitely less growly at least, before the Platinum Brigade gets more fodder for gossip...

“Must've got 'ere while you were out collecting psychological scars, then.” Her Uncle lit up a cigarette and exhaled smugly, if that was possible. Kendall's eyes narrowed.

“You're meddling on purpose, aren't you?”

“What if I am? Remy's old enough to get 'imself in trouble all by 'imself, but you still need t' be pushed in. Jus' like my Stormy.”

“I'm gonna tell Mom you called her that /twice.”

“You break my tender Cajun 'eart, chère,” he said drily. “Go get some punch an' talk to 'im. Let your 'air down, 'ave some fun an' piss your Daddy off for ol' Remy, okay?”

She stared at him for a second with an arched eyebrow and snagged out the glassy barbell holding her hair in a bun. Instantly her stubborn mane of silver unfolded itself like a cockatoo's head-crest. She gave the barbell a glance, taking stock of her lack of pockets, then decisively stabbed it beside the cigarette between Gambit's fingers. He'd like it for a fancy projectile.

“Joyeux Noël, Tountoun Remy,” she whispered with a smile, then rose with the liquid grace of the young and determined, planting a kiss on his forehead. “And thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered and waved her off, amusement in his voice. Kendall didn't see it – she was already making her way to the punch bowl.

Think I'll need a li'l help for this one, she thought shrewdly. There was something comforting about the ready-filled big red plastic cups of punch and in a moment Kendall had made friends with two of them, making her way to the window seat near the stereo. She could feel the eyes of the Platinum Brigade on her back. She settled down and crossed her long legs not once but twice, a subtle fuck-you to the stubby-legged blonde in the white-and-red dress. Gamine rook flips off queen bee, film at eleven, Kendall thought wildly. Her keen ears told her what she'd wished for secretly: conversation stopped beside the stereo and then careful footsteps were approaching her perch.

She saw the tips of his black sneakers stop opposite her high heels for a moment, and when she didn't raise her eyes from her cup, the shoes moved on and a moment later Stephen Petty sat down next to her on the windowseat.

“Hey”, he said softly and then she did look up to meet his bright gray eyes, their corners crinkled with a tentative smile. She hoped to hell she wasn't looking like a blowfish right now: he was so tall, up close.

“Hey”, she said and her voice sounded strange in her ears. She thrust the other cup at him, then gave him a careful smile herself. He took the cup with a happy little sound as though she'd just presented him with something expensive and shiny that lanky, tall guys like him liked. Spinal extenders, maybe.

Kendall cleared her throat and took a sip of her punch, her ears unwillingly privy of the buzz rising on the other side of the stereo. Stephen seemed unperturbed and took a hefty gulp of his own.

“How's Christmas going for you, then? I thought you were staying with your family in the city,” she said and was a bit surprised to hear her voice steady again. There was a flutter in her chest that made her throat feel funny and her dress too short and tight.

“I was, but then my Aunt Trudy and Uncle Dwight came to visit. We all went to that Christmas matinee? You know, at the theatre I was telling you about? And all the way through it they keep talking and badmouthing the show and the performers,” Stephen said and shifted in his seat uneasily and scratched the back of his neck.

“That sucks."

"Yeah. Kinda why I'm back early."

"Did you have a fight or something?"

“Well, kinda. At some point they started blaming me and Dad for purposefully taking them to see a lousy show and I got so uncomfortable that I accidentally got left behind when the curtains closed and they went home. They thought I'd scarpered off when the lights went down after the intermission...” Stephen looked embarrassed. His mutant powers gave him the ability to 'scatter' the sensory data people received of him to distract potential pursuers when he concentrated hard enough, but sometimes things went awry with base instincts taking over. Kendall could sympathise: she'd once accidentally electrocuted a toaster when the fire alarm went off at the smoke rising from burning bread.

“That sorta people, huh,” Kendall said, deciding she didn't like Stephen's relatives very much. “Why are you here, though? No cabs left in the city to take you home?”

“There was no sense in going back – there was no way I could've gone back and kept myself, you know, together long enough to explain things to them. They don't exactly like us filthy, degenerate mutants,” he said bitterly. He was obviously angry, Kendall could smell the adrenaline on him. She knew it was wrong, wrong, wrong, but something inside her responded to that flare in his scent. She had to stop herself staring at his mouth, and she licked dry lips before trusting her voice again.

“Well, I'm glad you came back to our septic fold,” she said gently and laid a hand over his without thinking, only meaning to comfort and calm them both.

They both froze simultaneously. Kendall's eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat – and, she could've sworn, so did his. One miniature cardiac arrest later her heartbeat thundered in her ears and the torn cuticle on her right thumb became intensely interesting... the right thumb that rested lightly on his long and slender ring finger.

Oo-kay, Kennie, you've got this calming thing down to pat! Keep this up and you'll stop tectonic plates one day by giving them a seizure! It's no biggie, it's no biggie, it's no biggie... Stop blushing!

Then she heard the sound of a plastic cup being thrown into the nearby trashcan with an impressive arc and warm fingers tilted her chin up to make her eyes meet the warmest pair of pale gray eyes she'd ever seen.

“Wanna step outside for a while? I need some air,” Stephen said and then the hand under her hand was entwining his fingers amid hers, giving them a soft squeeze.

“... Sure,” she managed and rose when he did, decisively knocking back the cup of punch in one gulp that'd done her father proud. The sound of her blood humming in her ears was settling down enough for the buzz of whispers by the stereo to begin to filter through to her brain again, but Kendall found that she didn't give a damn as she followed Stephen down the hall towards the front door. Luckily her parents had taken their nookie elsewhere.

The air outside was crisp and clear and the sky arced above them India black and endless, stars glittering just like the light ricocheting off the pristine white snow.

“You sure you won't freeze here?” Kendall asked as Stephen held the door open for her. Smooth guy, she mused and wondered if her Uncle had given more than just one pep talk that night.

“Sure as houses,” he said and yanked the collar of his tan suede jacket up. He leaned against the wall to light a cigarette. Menthol, Kendall's nose told her without inhaling. She didn't know how she felt about him smoking – it was yucky and stupid and smelly, but also kind of... comforting, like the smell of his leather jacket that had all sorts of interesting scents trapped in it.

She leaned against the wall next to him and closed her eyes as her brain picked apart the hints of trail soaked into the soft suede: asphalt, slush, exhaust gases and plum pudding, something cabbage-y and grassy, hints of sweat and... then, just Stephen. Clean with traces of the unscented, vicious soap the Institute provided in the student dorms, musk, cedar and vetivert with sandalwood... She found her lips curling back in a grin. Stephen smelled exactly like a Stephen such as Stephen should, she decided and clamped her lips tight before a satisfied growl escaped them.

He hadn't noticed, luckily - she was pretty sure sniffing people was a grandiose faux pas when dealing with cute boys. He seemed preoccupied glaring at the burning end of his cigarette as he exhaled slowly, then suddenly tossed the stick of tobacco away and ran a restless hand through his curly red hair.

“Listen, Kendall,” he said, “I've been meaning to tell you something for a while now...”

Oh shit, Kendall thought, heart jump-starting into hurdle-running racing pace. This is either really good or really, really bad...

“I, ah...” If it was possible for a tall guy to slouch nervously more, Stephen would be soon needing a chiropractor in possession of a crane lift. “What I'm meaning to say is that you and me, me and you... Do you... I mean, I kinda think that...”

It was unbearably cute, Kendall thought, and the emphasis was on unbearable. Had she ever been the mellow girl they all wanted her to be she'd let him ramble on 'til first light. But she wasn't, and swallowing a good deal of trepidation with a side of her heart creeping into her throat she turned to face him.

“Yeah, I do, and you think right," she said more boldly than she actually felt, not trusting her ability to start again if she stopped now, “and I've been meaning to tell you too for some time, and it's all our Uncles' fault, don't you think, flamin' serendipity kinda, and I think you're really nice and wonderful and tall and play those funny air guitar solos to the boombox and oh shit, now it's me with the awkward rambling, isn't it?” She stopped for a breath and for a while she felt like throwing up as her mind caught up with her tongue. “Aw, crap.”

Stephen looked like someone had introduced him headfirst to Mr Two-By-Four. She couldn't look him in the eye just then, afraid of... something she didn't want to even think about. Suddenly the potted juniper at her left side became really interesting.

And then there were hands weaving into her hair gently, turning her head upwards and Stephen-wards again, and... he was shaking at the shoulders?

There was an odd strangled sound from him and the hands in her hair curled at the back of her skull, and Stephen let out a strained snicker, followed by a chuckle and then another.

The bastard was laughing at her!

Kendall didn't know whether to die from embarrassment or to fry Stephen then and there on the porch, distantly aware of electricity beginning to gather nearby. She felt ready to punch him or dissolve into tears, or possibly both. She clenched her teeth and glared at him.

He took one look at her fearsome glare and broke into laughter again. That, in Kendall's book, sealed the deal: she pulled her fist back and rocked her weight to the correct spot for throwing punches on stiletto heels and was about to snap her arm forward when he bent his face to hers and did something stupendously stupid.

The bastard was kissing her! Laughing at her and then kissing her! One half of Kendall's brain was cheering rowdily at the most recent developments while the other half was annoyed beyond belief. Something roaring inside her was siding with the irritated half of her brain and she was moving before she noticed it.

She shoved him off her, felt her eyes stinging white and considered him from behind the wavering 4D-vision that overtook her eyesight whenever she was streaming power from the skies. Overhead, electricity throbbed and coiled and loosened and coiled back again, invisible but portentous.

Deep breath, Kendall decided. Kiss nice, boy idiot – but said boy was not laughing any more, looking at her with something akin to reverence as a bolt of lightning lit the night up like a gigantic camera flash, arcing over clear sky. Her claws itched to be let out. She considered him: attempting nonchalance and not breathing, smelling of rising anxiety and... something else. Something new that made Kendall shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

Then her hands were on his collar, pushing him back against the wall. He was shivering too as she stood on tiptoe to show him what a kiss really was.

Stephen was startled still for a moment,but then his arms wound around her waist and pulled her nearer tentatively. His lips were soft, softer than she would have thought a boy's lips to be and he kissed her back almost shyly as her palms came to rest on his shoulders. The slouch was gone, though, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to capture his lips again, but she gave chase gladly.

It was some indefinite amount of time later that they broke for air, his arms around her, her hands looped around his neck. He kissed her nose with a smile.

“Man, you're so cute when you're pissed off!” He rocked them from one foot to another, laying his chin on the top of her head. “Almost as cute as when you can't stop talking.”

“Wanna see how cute you look after a hundred terawatts of electricity through the nose? 'Cause it's the season of giving,” she growled at him but there was little anger behind it now. Something warm was bubbling inside her, wild and heady stuff that went straight to her head.

“I thought you might've sicced that lighting on me,” he said with wonder in his voice. “Sorry I laughed at you. Tension released all too sudden and all that.”

“S'okay,” she murmured, burrowing closer even though he was the one that was probably freezing out here in the night. “Won't fry you for now.”

“So you really do like me.”

“That, and the rotisserie's getting serviced in the shop,” she said casually, poking him in the back with one bony claw through the wool of his shirt. She hadn't even felt it coming out and breaking her skin. “I might improvise a six-skewer mini-barbecue if you insist, but a girl just craves the flair of chest and nuts roasting over open fire.”

Stephen pulled back and looked her in the eye then, then cracked up again. This time she couldn't help but join him, laughing into his shirt as his chest shook under her cheek.

“Man, you really are something else," he said just above her when they had stopped laughing. It was unusual and exciting, being so close to him and it made her skin raise in goosebumps. “Would you... I mean, wanna go out with me? Though we are out already, aren't we... you know what I mean,” Stephen said and pulled back to give her an embarrassed smile. “Wanna be my girlfriend?”

Kendall smiled back and something in her chest was doing a mad, happy conga. Must've been her heart. She narrowed her eyes at him. “No,” she said after a pause and pulled him closer, “but you can be my boyfriend if you want.”

Stephen pursed his lips and shook his head. “There's never a moment's break with you, is there?” he said. “I kinda like that.”

“Good! I feel like dancing, and you're coming with me,” she said and gave him a brilliant smile as she pulled the door open and dragged him back inside.





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