Fic: Personal Space, Kitty/Piotr, X-Men Movieverse
Title: Personal Space
Disclaimer: These charaters do not belong to me.
Summary: Kitty can't quite get close enough to Piotr.
Author's note: Written for bantha_fodder in the xmmficathon. Thanks to femmequixotic for beta.
Kitty doesn’t want to call it a crush. She likes Piotr, and she finds herself watching him at dinner, in class, lingering over him from a distance as they’re lining up for their exercises in the Danger Room. It’s a curiosity, a fascination, and entirely harmless in the way that crushes never are.
He sits next to her in Calculus, which is now being taught by Ms. Munroe. It used to be taught by Mr. Summers, and Kitty finds it a lot harder to understand Storm’s explanations. Piotr is too big to fit into the desks, and so he sits on a regular chair and balances his textbook in his lap. Kitty is amazed at how he seems to do even this with grace; his notebook, his textbook, his pencil, everything perfectly aligned. She hits her desk with her knee and knocks her pencil onto the floor. She sighs and bends to pick it up, her hair falling in her face. Piotr has beaten her to it, though, and he holds the pencil out to her, eraser end first.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and tucks her hair behind her ear.
“Your welcome, Katya,” he says, just as softly. When Kitty looks up, Storm is watching her, but doesn’t say anything.
Katya. She says it alone in her room that night. Katya.
The other girls talk about how big Piotr is, with giggles and with awe. Kitty blushes when she understands exactly what it is they’re talking about, and she’d never thought about that. The girls think she, too, fantasizes about the strange foreigner. She tells them she has an essay to write.
Piotr is big, but big in a way that’s hard to comprehend. His shoulders are broad and he’s tall, taller than her but she’s short anyway. It’s just, there’s so much of him, as though every inch of space is packed with him, whereas she’s wispy and thin, and yet somehow they manage to walk down the hall together with other students passing in the opposite direction and there’s still so much space between them. Kitty steps in toward him and Piotr steps away and Kitty thinks, there it is. She’s asked her question and he’s answered. He does not feel the same draw to her that she feels to him
They turn the corner, and as she hurries off in the direction of the stairs she says, “Well, see you later,” and Piotr reaches out to grab her shoulder and his fingers pass right through her. He pulls back quickly and she turns around again to face him and they both laugh, awkwardly. It happens, sometimes, when someone catches her by surprise. Unconscious defenses and all. But Piotr does not look horrified the way people usually do. His eyes have not left Kitty’s face, and he says, as though this is the first time he has ever heard the phrase, “See you later, Katya,” and then walks away.
She tells herself she’ll correct him the next time she sees him. “You can call me Kitty,” she practices under her breath.
Except that the next time she sees him, they are in the jet, wearing their uniforms, sitting across from each other in the back, listening to Wolverine bark out their tactical approach. Kitty smiles up at Piotr, and then looks down. When she looks up again, he is looking at her, wearing an adorable crooked smile. Wolverine growls, and Kitty turns her attention the map he’s gesturing at with his claws.
Kitty is glad that Piotr is big when he is by her side on the ground and there are sonic waves and bullets and countless sharp objects that Kitty feels sail just over her head. She tells herself that they’ve been through this in the Danger Room, and Wolverine tells them, as he always does, to trust their instincts, that they’ll know what to do. It’s comforting if vague advice, Kitty thinks, since half of them - more than half - haven’t even finished high school yet.
When there’s something that sounds like a tank coming from the south, Kitty follow’s Wolverine’s instructions, and she runs. The problem is, when everyone else is running around the building, she runs through it, and then through two guards, another wall, and a sharp right down an empty corridor bright with fluorescent lights.
She stops, breathing heavily and disoriented, and then calls, hesitantly, “X-Men? Anyone?” There’s no answer, not even an echo, and she tries again, louder.
Suddenly, the wall behind her crumbles and Piotr - Colossus - runs through. “Katya, this way, quick,” he says.
“How did you find me?” Kitty says.
“I followed my instincts.”
She has a moment to look at the utter destruction he’s caused to the wall before she hears the sound of gunfire and footfalls approaching. Kitty runs toward Piotr as he reaches out his arms for her. She phases through him and they both stop for a split second at stare at each other, and then Piotr is right behind her as they run, bullets pinging off the organic steel of his shoulders.
It’s not as if he’s the first person she’s phased completely through, not in the least, and it’s not even the first time she’s gone through someone accidentally. But she meant to run into Piotr’s arms, and she can’t stop thinking about how she thought it would feel to press her face to his chest and the loss she felt when she didn’t feel a thing. She also can’t stop the confusion in his eyes when, back in the jet, she’d gone to brush away a streak of cinder block dust from his cheek and her hand went right through his head.
She finds him on the grounds, underneath a tree, reading a book with a Russian title. He quickly closes the book and stands when he sees her.
She looks startled for a moment, but then she sits down beside his bag and starts picking at the grass. “So, I was wondering,” she says, and then looks up at him. His expression is calm, and Kitty thinks that’s what she always sees in his face - calm.
“Yes?” he says, after a long moment.
“Well, this,” she says. She reaches out for his hand, resting on his knee, wanting to touch his fingers, to feel them curl in her own - except that when she does, she phases through him, her hand touching the grass underneath her leg. She pulls back, flustered, and stands. “That’s not what I meant to do,” she mutters.
“Katya, wait,” he says, and reaches up for her and his hand goes right through her arm. Kitty feels herself blush.
“It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know why….”
“Perhaps your powers…..”
“No, I tried everything,” She has, too. She’d tried walking through practically everything in the mansion, even several other people. “It’s just you.” She blushes more. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
“Please,” he says. “Stay. I like your company. You can read with me,” he says, and opens his book back up.
“I didn’t bring a book,” she says, and then feels instantly stupid.
“I’ll read to you, then,” he says, and Kitty shrugs, and then smiles and settles against the tree, her shoulder just inches from his.
That night, she dreams of cold wind whipping against her face, pulling at her jacket. She is alone, her feet in a snow bank, looking out over a small village, with brown wood houses and smoke curling up from the chimneys. There are no roads, and she’s not sure how she got here. She is holding a jar of some sort, tucked into her arm, close to hear heart. She lifts the lid and looks in, and that’s when she wakes.
She’s been having the weirdest dreams ever since she came to school here. She thinks it’s all the telepaths in the place.
Sometimes, when she goes for a walk outside, she finds herself coming to the memorial without really meaning to. Everyone whispers about what really happened: Dr. Grey killed Professor Xavier and Mr. Summers because the Professor was doing something to Jean’s mind. There are more hushed conversations about Magneto, and Kitty feels a rush of hate when she hears his name, even though apparently he used to be a teacher here, too. And sometimes, when Kitty has walked through the right wall at the right time, she hears Storm or Hank having a tense conversation with Dr. McTaggart.
Whenever she visits, she touches her hand to the top of each of the stones. She feels hope at the Professor’s, confusion at Mr. Summers’, and heat when she stands too near Dr. Grey’s.
Someone is cutting the grass up the hill, and the sound is enough that she feels she can talk to the Professor aloud, as though he were really there in front of her. She asks him about Piotr, about why she phases through him every time she tries to touch him. She tells him it’s a question about her powers, not about anything else. The Professor would know exactly why she’s asking, but there is no crisp, slightly accented voice in her head. There is answer at all.
When she looks down, she realizes there is a small piece of paper tucked under a rock on top of the stone. She hesitates for a second, and then reaches through the rock and lifts the paper out, and unfolds it. It’s a picture of her, in profile, and several lines written in Cyrillic. Her heart thrums and she looks around. When she sees no one, she wonders how Piotr could have known she came here, until she realizes that the note is not meant for her. Someone else was asking the Professor’s counsel, too.
She tucks the note into her pocket and rushes up to the library, running right into the reference shelves, phasing through the encyclopedias. It takes her nearly two hours, and even then she has no grammatical understanding, just the words. But the words are all the matter. Armor. Touch. Opposite. Beautiful. Katya.
She goes straight from her next class to Piotr’s room. She doesn’t even know if he’s there and she stands outside his door for a moment, listening, and then someone comes down the hall, and in paranoia and panic, she steps through Piotr’s door.
He is at his desk, his shoulders hunched forward. She takes a deep breathe and he turns, stares at her, and then stands.
“What is wrong, Katya? Is there an attack?” He looks out his window and then back at her.
“No,” she says, and she’s breathless. She takes another deep breath as he steps forward.
“Tell me, Katya, what is wrong?”
“I meant to knock,” she says weakly. “I meant to come here and knock on your door, and…well, that’s as far as I got with the plan, actually, but I was going to stand out there until I got the nerve to knock, and then someone came by and startled me, and it’s not like there’s anything wrong with me coming to see you anyway, but…”
She stops, and then flushes. This is all going completely wrong.
“You came to see me?” he says. “To visit?” He sounds uncertain and Kitty’s ready to turn and run right back out the door. He doesn’t seem at all upset that she’s just rushed into his room, through his door, and made him think there was some imminent danger. The danger is only her.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You are sorry you came to visit.” His brows are knotted now, and he stands there, his arms at his sides, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together in a way Kitty’s sure he doesn’t realize he’s doing.
There’s stubble on his jaw, and his bangs are askew in a way that makes Kitty think he was leaning with his head in his hands. Behind him, she can see the books on his desk, now. Ovid’s Metamorphoses, their next assignment for English. She grins. She can’t get through the book either, especially not when she remembers the Professor saying when he first assigned it that he hoped it would hold some meaning for them.
“I have no idea what I’m going to write for the essay,” she says, as a last-ditch attempt to make this not the most awkward moment ever in history, and turns toward Piotr’s desk at the same time he does. She runs into him, and the shock more than the actual impact sends her stumbling backwards, landing on his bed with a thump.
First she can’t touch him when she means to and now her powers won’t work when they ought to. This was never in any of the lessons in the Danger Room. She can’t remember the last time she actually ran into something quite so soundly, and it’s only when she hears him say her name that she remembers she is on his bed. She keeps her eyes closed and covers them with her hand.
“Katya,” he says again. “Are you certain there is not something wrong?” He is very close, and she reaches up for him, with all her concentration, like when she first got her powers, like she doesn’t know how to do this, and it’s true, she doesn’t know how to touch Piotr. She has to learn it.
“I have a crush on you,” she says, and her hand rests gently on the curve of his shoulder, the soft cotton of his shirt warm under her palm. She opens her eyes and he is leaning over her, kneeling beside the bed.
“Do you,” he says softly. He is looking at her hand on his shoulder. “I am the one who usually does the crushing,” he says, and Kitty can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up out of her. Piotr laughs, too, and the sound is rich and warm. He traces his fingers over her lips, and her breath catches. “Katya,” he says, softly, and her eyes close again. His lips touch hers so softly she thinks she’s going to phase through him again, but then his lips press against her mouth soundly and her hand tightens on his arm. She gasps when he draws back and with her hands at the back of his neck, she pulls him closer.
When they go to English class, they are holding hands. Without thinking, Kitty walks through the closed door, and Piotr phases through with her, looking wide-eyed and stunned. She looks at him, at their still-clasped hands, and then just shrugs.
“Please warn me next time before that happens,” Piotr says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You get used to it,” Kitty says, “after a while.”
Disclaimer: These charaters do not belong to me.
Summary: Kitty can't quite get close enough to Piotr.
Author's note: Written for bantha_fodder in the xmmficathon. Thanks to femmequixotic for beta.
Kitty doesn’t want to call it a crush. She likes Piotr, and she finds herself watching him at dinner, in class, lingering over him from a distance as they’re lining up for their exercises in the Danger Room. It’s a curiosity, a fascination, and entirely harmless in the way that crushes never are.
He sits next to her in Calculus, which is now being taught by Ms. Munroe. It used to be taught by Mr. Summers, and Kitty finds it a lot harder to understand Storm’s explanations. Piotr is too big to fit into the desks, and so he sits on a regular chair and balances his textbook in his lap. Kitty is amazed at how he seems to do even this with grace; his notebook, his textbook, his pencil, everything perfectly aligned. She hits her desk with her knee and knocks her pencil onto the floor. She sighs and bends to pick it up, her hair falling in her face. Piotr has beaten her to it, though, and he holds the pencil out to her, eraser end first.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and tucks her hair behind her ear.
“Your welcome, Katya,” he says, just as softly. When Kitty looks up, Storm is watching her, but doesn’t say anything.
Katya. She says it alone in her room that night. Katya.
The other girls talk about how big Piotr is, with giggles and with awe. Kitty blushes when she understands exactly what it is they’re talking about, and she’d never thought about that. The girls think she, too, fantasizes about the strange foreigner. She tells them she has an essay to write.
Piotr is big, but big in a way that’s hard to comprehend. His shoulders are broad and he’s tall, taller than her but she’s short anyway. It’s just, there’s so much of him, as though every inch of space is packed with him, whereas she’s wispy and thin, and yet somehow they manage to walk down the hall together with other students passing in the opposite direction and there’s still so much space between them. Kitty steps in toward him and Piotr steps away and Kitty thinks, there it is. She’s asked her question and he’s answered. He does not feel the same draw to her that she feels to him
They turn the corner, and as she hurries off in the direction of the stairs she says, “Well, see you later,” and Piotr reaches out to grab her shoulder and his fingers pass right through her. He pulls back quickly and she turns around again to face him and they both laugh, awkwardly. It happens, sometimes, when someone catches her by surprise. Unconscious defenses and all. But Piotr does not look horrified the way people usually do. His eyes have not left Kitty’s face, and he says, as though this is the first time he has ever heard the phrase, “See you later, Katya,” and then walks away.
She tells herself she’ll correct him the next time she sees him. “You can call me Kitty,” she practices under her breath.
Except that the next time she sees him, they are in the jet, wearing their uniforms, sitting across from each other in the back, listening to Wolverine bark out their tactical approach. Kitty smiles up at Piotr, and then looks down. When she looks up again, he is looking at her, wearing an adorable crooked smile. Wolverine growls, and Kitty turns her attention the map he’s gesturing at with his claws.
Kitty is glad that Piotr is big when he is by her side on the ground and there are sonic waves and bullets and countless sharp objects that Kitty feels sail just over her head. She tells herself that they’ve been through this in the Danger Room, and Wolverine tells them, as he always does, to trust their instincts, that they’ll know what to do. It’s comforting if vague advice, Kitty thinks, since half of them - more than half - haven’t even finished high school yet.
When there’s something that sounds like a tank coming from the south, Kitty follow’s Wolverine’s instructions, and she runs. The problem is, when everyone else is running around the building, she runs through it, and then through two guards, another wall, and a sharp right down an empty corridor bright with fluorescent lights.
She stops, breathing heavily and disoriented, and then calls, hesitantly, “X-Men? Anyone?” There’s no answer, not even an echo, and she tries again, louder.
Suddenly, the wall behind her crumbles and Piotr - Colossus - runs through. “Katya, this way, quick,” he says.
“How did you find me?” Kitty says.
“I followed my instincts.”
She has a moment to look at the utter destruction he’s caused to the wall before she hears the sound of gunfire and footfalls approaching. Kitty runs toward Piotr as he reaches out his arms for her. She phases through him and they both stop for a split second at stare at each other, and then Piotr is right behind her as they run, bullets pinging off the organic steel of his shoulders.
It’s not as if he’s the first person she’s phased completely through, not in the least, and it’s not even the first time she’s gone through someone accidentally. But she meant to run into Piotr’s arms, and she can’t stop thinking about how she thought it would feel to press her face to his chest and the loss she felt when she didn’t feel a thing. She also can’t stop the confusion in his eyes when, back in the jet, she’d gone to brush away a streak of cinder block dust from his cheek and her hand went right through his head.
She finds him on the grounds, underneath a tree, reading a book with a Russian title. He quickly closes the book and stands when he sees her.
She looks startled for a moment, but then she sits down beside his bag and starts picking at the grass. “So, I was wondering,” she says, and then looks up at him. His expression is calm, and Kitty thinks that’s what she always sees in his face - calm.
“Yes?” he says, after a long moment.
“Well, this,” she says. She reaches out for his hand, resting on his knee, wanting to touch his fingers, to feel them curl in her own - except that when she does, she phases through him, her hand touching the grass underneath her leg. She pulls back, flustered, and stands. “That’s not what I meant to do,” she mutters.
“Katya, wait,” he says, and reaches up for her and his hand goes right through her arm. Kitty feels herself blush.
“It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know why….”
“Perhaps your powers…..”
“No, I tried everything,” She has, too. She’d tried walking through practically everything in the mansion, even several other people. “It’s just you.” She blushes more. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
“Please,” he says. “Stay. I like your company. You can read with me,” he says, and opens his book back up.
“I didn’t bring a book,” she says, and then feels instantly stupid.
“I’ll read to you, then,” he says, and Kitty shrugs, and then smiles and settles against the tree, her shoulder just inches from his.
That night, she dreams of cold wind whipping against her face, pulling at her jacket. She is alone, her feet in a snow bank, looking out over a small village, with brown wood houses and smoke curling up from the chimneys. There are no roads, and she’s not sure how she got here. She is holding a jar of some sort, tucked into her arm, close to hear heart. She lifts the lid and looks in, and that’s when she wakes.
She’s been having the weirdest dreams ever since she came to school here. She thinks it’s all the telepaths in the place.
Sometimes, when she goes for a walk outside, she finds herself coming to the memorial without really meaning to. Everyone whispers about what really happened: Dr. Grey killed Professor Xavier and Mr. Summers because the Professor was doing something to Jean’s mind. There are more hushed conversations about Magneto, and Kitty feels a rush of hate when she hears his name, even though apparently he used to be a teacher here, too. And sometimes, when Kitty has walked through the right wall at the right time, she hears Storm or Hank having a tense conversation with Dr. McTaggart.
Whenever she visits, she touches her hand to the top of each of the stones. She feels hope at the Professor’s, confusion at Mr. Summers’, and heat when she stands too near Dr. Grey’s.
Someone is cutting the grass up the hill, and the sound is enough that she feels she can talk to the Professor aloud, as though he were really there in front of her. She asks him about Piotr, about why she phases through him every time she tries to touch him. She tells him it’s a question about her powers, not about anything else. The Professor would know exactly why she’s asking, but there is no crisp, slightly accented voice in her head. There is answer at all.
When she looks down, she realizes there is a small piece of paper tucked under a rock on top of the stone. She hesitates for a second, and then reaches through the rock and lifts the paper out, and unfolds it. It’s a picture of her, in profile, and several lines written in Cyrillic. Her heart thrums and she looks around. When she sees no one, she wonders how Piotr could have known she came here, until she realizes that the note is not meant for her. Someone else was asking the Professor’s counsel, too.
She tucks the note into her pocket and rushes up to the library, running right into the reference shelves, phasing through the encyclopedias. It takes her nearly two hours, and even then she has no grammatical understanding, just the words. But the words are all the matter. Armor. Touch. Opposite. Beautiful. Katya.
She goes straight from her next class to Piotr’s room. She doesn’t even know if he’s there and she stands outside his door for a moment, listening, and then someone comes down the hall, and in paranoia and panic, she steps through Piotr’s door.
He is at his desk, his shoulders hunched forward. She takes a deep breathe and he turns, stares at her, and then stands.
“What is wrong, Katya? Is there an attack?” He looks out his window and then back at her.
“No,” she says, and she’s breathless. She takes another deep breath as he steps forward.
“Tell me, Katya, what is wrong?”
“I meant to knock,” she says weakly. “I meant to come here and knock on your door, and…well, that’s as far as I got with the plan, actually, but I was going to stand out there until I got the nerve to knock, and then someone came by and startled me, and it’s not like there’s anything wrong with me coming to see you anyway, but…”
She stops, and then flushes. This is all going completely wrong.
“You came to see me?” he says. “To visit?” He sounds uncertain and Kitty’s ready to turn and run right back out the door. He doesn’t seem at all upset that she’s just rushed into his room, through his door, and made him think there was some imminent danger. The danger is only her.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You are sorry you came to visit.” His brows are knotted now, and he stands there, his arms at his sides, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together in a way Kitty’s sure he doesn’t realize he’s doing.
There’s stubble on his jaw, and his bangs are askew in a way that makes Kitty think he was leaning with his head in his hands. Behind him, she can see the books on his desk, now. Ovid’s Metamorphoses, their next assignment for English. She grins. She can’t get through the book either, especially not when she remembers the Professor saying when he first assigned it that he hoped it would hold some meaning for them.
“I have no idea what I’m going to write for the essay,” she says, as a last-ditch attempt to make this not the most awkward moment ever in history, and turns toward Piotr’s desk at the same time he does. She runs into him, and the shock more than the actual impact sends her stumbling backwards, landing on his bed with a thump.
First she can’t touch him when she means to and now her powers won’t work when they ought to. This was never in any of the lessons in the Danger Room. She can’t remember the last time she actually ran into something quite so soundly, and it’s only when she hears him say her name that she remembers she is on his bed. She keeps her eyes closed and covers them with her hand.
“Katya,” he says again. “Are you certain there is not something wrong?” He is very close, and she reaches up for him, with all her concentration, like when she first got her powers, like she doesn’t know how to do this, and it’s true, she doesn’t know how to touch Piotr. She has to learn it.
“I have a crush on you,” she says, and her hand rests gently on the curve of his shoulder, the soft cotton of his shirt warm under her palm. She opens her eyes and he is leaning over her, kneeling beside the bed.
“Do you,” he says softly. He is looking at her hand on his shoulder. “I am the one who usually does the crushing,” he says, and Kitty can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up out of her. Piotr laughs, too, and the sound is rich and warm. He traces his fingers over her lips, and her breath catches. “Katya,” he says, softly, and her eyes close again. His lips touch hers so softly she thinks she’s going to phase through him again, but then his lips press against her mouth soundly and her hand tightens on his arm. She gasps when he draws back and with her hands at the back of his neck, she pulls him closer.
When they go to English class, they are holding hands. Without thinking, Kitty walks through the closed door, and Piotr phases through with her, looking wide-eyed and stunned. She looks at him, at their still-clasped hands, and then just shrugs.
“Please warn me next time before that happens,” Piotr says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You get used to it,” Kitty says, “after a while.”