FFic: Spidey/Colossus AU
Stepping Stones: A Colossus and Spider-Man Team-up (tentative name)
By The Odd Little Turtle Named Froggie
(Marvel owns the characters. I, sadly, do not. Not making a profit, but input is nice. Star Wars is used as a reference only and all characters, phrases of that particular fandom are trademarked by Lucas Films Ltd., et al.
This is a Kiotr AU and has nothing to do with past, present or future continuity in X-Men or Spider-Man comics. Thus, AU. No BND/OMD (or whatever the initials are). No secret wars, no messiah babies, and no Limbo.
Special thanks goes to author376 for all the great advice and back and forth comments, and to everyone at kiotr for the encouraging words. The milk carton alternate scene can be found there too.
For clarification, Piotr is five years older than Kitty. I haven’t figured out Spider-Man’s age, but he’s a college student and currently a bachelor.)
#
Piotr Rasputin’s large square hands shook with anxiety as his blue eyes took in the small crumpled white envelope that was specifically addressed to him. The postal service had really done a number on it, one of the corners was turned down and it looked as though an animal might have buried it before someone decided that it needed to be delivered.
The return address made his belly clench, and a broad smile stretched his lips exposing white teeth:
Kitty Pryde
c/o Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
1407 Graymalkin Lane
Salem Center
New York
She wrote, he thought in awe, his heart kicking, just as she said she would. It wasn’t that he doubted that the X-Man called Shadowcat would tell him something that she wasn’t going to do. It was that she’d chosen him-a peasant, a farmhand, a construction worker-to correspond with. She was a beautiful young superhero-albeit an outlaw, but as far as he was concerned it was only a matter of semantics. Piotr didn’t consider himself to be a superhero. He only helped Spider-Man in between working two jobs-one a dishwasher at an upscale restaurant, the other a steel fixer for a local construction company-and attending nightly classes finishing up his GED.
When he’d first come to America at the age of 16, the young Russian made the mistake of going directly to work to support his family back in Russia and not worrying about an education other than learning English. It was not until he had been passed up for a promotion with better pay because of his age and lack of schooling that he had immediately enrolled at the local trade school. Next year he was enrolling in an actual college to get a degree. Piotr didn’t really care what kind of degree it was, just as long as the pay was good after he got out of college.
Piotr’s powerful, well muscled body moved with easy grace across the small apartment to the kitchen area. He put the rest of the mail on the counter, ignoring the fact that there was currently something sticky on its surface and the electric bill was the letter on the bottom of the pile. Tossing his keys onto the coffee table and pulling his brown coat off his broad shoulders, Piotr never took his blue eyes off the letter and once he had everything settled, he studied the envelope closer. There was a Star Wars sticker on the back, over the flap like a seal of some sort. “May the Force be with you,” it read. Below the seal was scrawled in neat looping letters: “Photos Enclosed. Do NOT Bend!” The envelope was anything but not bent. He hoped the photos were still intact.
He sat down at the stool of his drafting table and carefully opened badly mangled envelope, removing the letter inside then setting aside the photos for later. The same looping lettering made up his letter from the teenager he had met a week ago:
“Dear Piotr,
“I am so excited we got a chance to meet! I have been reading about you and Spider-Man in the Daily Bugle since I became an X-Man. It is too cool that I got to talk with a celebrity, even if you are considered an outlaw and dangerous. I can live with outlaw and I can live with danger. It’s exciting. And I think it’s great that we have the outlaw status and the fact that we’re both mutants as a common denominator between us. Say, have you ever been to space? Maybe we could have a cool adventure like Luke and Leia!
“So, you’re from Russia right? I’m from Deerfield, Illinois. I’m Jewish. What brought you to America? Do you have any family here? What’s Russia like? I think your English is great. I know I said so before, but I just wanted you to read it to confirm it. There are so many colloquialisms in the English language that, I’m sure, most Americans get confused on, too. So don’t worry about the slip up when we first talked.
“When is your birthday? Mine is June 1st. I’ll be sixteen. I think that my teammates are going to throw a surprise party, but I’m not sure. I’ve got to use my ninja skills and find out more information. It’s kind of neat being a ninja who can walk through walls. It's too bad that I had to learn to be the ninja I am the way I did, but I won't bore you with the icky details.
“I thanked you before, but I’ll do it again. Thanks (and Spider-Man, too) for coming to our rescue and giving us the extra muscle. I got an eyeful! Cyclops says that, had it not been for your abilities, Dr. Doom and his Doom-bot army might have actually won and then he would have become a big threat to New York and possibly the world. You have no idea how much we appreciate it. And I got an A on my physics exam thanks to the neat stuff I learned and saw when you grabbed that cable and used yourself as an electrical conduit. Professor X was really impressed! Oh, and tell Spider-Man that I'm glad I got a chance to meet and talk with him too. He seems a pretty decent super hero.
“Well, anyway, I feel like I’m rambling, but it’s nice to have someone other than the X-babies New Mutants to talk to. Or rather write to. I hope you write back soon. I am totally looking forward to reading letters from you. I hope you don’t forget me. I would really love to be friends.
“Sincerely yours,
“Katherine “Kitty” Pryde
“AKA Shadowcat of the X-men
“P.S. Enclosed you will find three photos. The first is my ninth grade school picture (I look like a dork) that I’ve also sent to my parents. The second is a sneak picture taken by Ororo (that’s Storm, by the way) of me playing a trick on my fellow students, Sam and Doug (Cannonball and Cypher). And the third is a group picture of the X-men and X-Babies New Mutants for the school year book last year. I wrote on the backs so you know which ones are which.
“Bye,
“Kitty
“P.S.S. Please don’t forget to write. Remember, you promised to keep in touch!
“Bye again,
“Kitty”
Piotr reread the letter twice, looking again at the neatly looped printing and how she signed her name slightly different all three times she signed off. Giving a happy sigh that turned into a yawn, he sorted through the photos.
The first photo, was as Kitty had said. It was a simple school photograph of the teenager sitting in front of a gray backdrop. She had a lovely heart-shaped face with full lips that were smiling broadly; her nose was straight, short and charming; and her head was capped in a mass of thick dark hair that hung in ringlets over her shoulders. It was her eyes that he paid the most attention to, however. They were a tawny shade of brown flecked with just enough green that made them more hazel than brown. He studied her face a moment before flipping the wallet-sized picture over to read the back.
“To: Piotr
“From: Kitty
“Katherine Pryde, age 15, Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Ninth Grade.”
He put the photo in his wallet for safe keeping and picked up the next photograph. This one featured a laughing Kitty and two blonde boys. Piotr’s heart twisted uncomfortably wondering if either of the two boys had stolen her heart yet. A sudden inadequacy poured over him as he studied the picture. Kitty, who was so much smaller than either of the two boys, had her hand over her mouth and one over her stomach, obviously laughing loudly and heartily. Piotr grinned at the mirthful expression on her face. The first boy, the tallest and skinniest of the two, had a deep blush on his slender face and a hand in his flaxen hair. The other boy, who looked somewhat plump in the picture, looked scandalized, his hands out, his feet akimbo. Piotr turned the picture over to read more of Kitty’s neatly looped lettering, wondering what word she had crossed out before New Mutants; all he could make out were the letters ‘X’ and ‘B’.
“Sam, Doug and me were playing pranks on each other. Ororo snapped the picture from the front door. Sam is the co-leader of the New Mutants and Doug is the field tech. Doug’s lost weight since then. He has regular workouts in the Danger Room now.”
Piotr had no idea what a danger room was, but put the thought aside as he did the picture.
The third and final picture was the group picture. He recognized the X-men immediately. He assumed the younger looking mutants in the photograph were the New Mutants Kitty had referred to as the two boys from the prior picture stood grinning with them. Kitty sat at Professor Xavier's feet, hugging her knees. She was in a matching New Mutants uniform. A Latino boy was sitting near her giving her rabbit ears. The back read, “This shot was taken last year for the year book. The professor put me on the New Mutants training team for a semester and I couldn’t use my individual uniform.
“X-men: Cyclops, Storm, Beast, Thunderbird, Banshee, Nightcrawler, Havok, Polaris, Rogue, Wolverine.
“Prof. X.
“New Mutants: me, Richter, Cannonball, Karma, Psyche, Cypher, Wolfsbane, Warlock, Sunspot, Magma”
Piotr studied the two teams noting the differences of the faces and uniforms. These are superheroes, he thought. They are called outlaws like Peter and I are.
He stood and grabbed some paper from his roommate’s desk and sat back down to write Kitty a letter back. Within minutes after he began to write, Piotr had fallen asleep in his chair as the long day had finally caught up with him.
###
Peter Parker trudged up the stairs to his apartment, the steps creaking under his weight. After two jobs, three science and math classes, and two foiled robberies that day, he was exhausted. For two reasons, he prayed that his roommate, Piotr Rasputin was sleeping. First, Peter didn’t want Piotr to feel guilty that he’d missed helping out on catching the thieves. Piotr always seemed to carry the guilt if he couldn’t be there when people needed him. Second, Piotr had been googley-eyed all week since meeting the rogue group of outlaws who called themselves the X-men. Peter was not looking forward to another conversation regarding their adventure seven days ago.
It wasn’t because he and Piotr had helped foil the nefarious plot of Dr. Doom while the Fantastic Four were nowhere to be found. And it wasn’t because Cyclops, the X-men’s field leader had offered Piotr to join the X-men. It was because Piotr was completely smitten with their youngest teammate, Shadowcat. Yeah, she was cute and witty and brave, but, frankly, Peter was tired of hearing how Shadowcat had used her mutant abilities to keep the civilians safe from falling debris or how her eyes lit up when she talked or how the sun made the auburn of her brown curls stand out. It was disgustingly cute how Piotr suddenly was head over heels for a girl he’d only just met. They couldn’t talk about anything without Piotr bringing up Shadowcat. Sheesh.
Just once in the seven days since Dr. Doom’s Doom-bots had ravaged New York, Peter Parker, AKA Spider-Man, wanted to have a full night’s rest and not hear anything that anything to do with Shadowcat.
Peter took the last step wincing as it creaked louder than the rest and fiddled in his pocket for the keys to the apartment. It was late and Peter feared the nosy woman across the hall, Mrs. Moglia, would be sticking her long nose out her key hole, just sniffing for something to complain about. He and Piotr tried to be as quiet as possible. Both worked two jobs and both went to school. They also both were crime fighters and the Daily Bugle usually had a field day smearing them-but thankfully, Mrs. Moglia didn’t know that. She thought they were just two bachelors. And she let them know, at every opportunity she found, exactly how she felt about them.
As quietly as he could, he slipped the key into the slot, turned and pushed the door open. He heaved a sigh once he was on the other side, and the door was shut and bolted back behind him.
The apartment was dimly lit, only the kitchenette light and a small lamp on the side table near the sofa were on. He could see the hulking form of his roommate hunched over his drafting table on what was termed “Piotr’s side” of the tiny apartment. It was the only part of the apartment, besides Piotr’s room that was neat.
Not asleep. Great.
“Hiya, Pete!” Peter called and, to his astonishment, Piotr jumped, his head swinging up, and he transformed into his metal form, completely shredding his clothing as his body gained mass and height with the transformation. Completely covered in organic steel, the new weight of the man made the wooden chair buckle and splinter and the mutant called Colossus was suddenly on his shiny metal butt with a loud thud. Peter winced, thinking of their neighbors below and the probable cracks in their ceiling now.
Piotr grunted from his new-found position before picking himself up.
“Hard day at work?” Peter asked as he headed towards the light of the kitchenette, ignoring his now-nude and shiny friend. He tossed his jacket on the sofa on his way and grabbed the mail on the counter, dropping it instantly, startled by the stickiness on the bottom. He prodded it gently with a fork from the sink, noting the brown substance stuck to the electric bill and briefly wondered if he should give a sample to Doc Sampson for testing. One never knew these days.
“Da.” Piotr scooped up the scraps of his clothing and splinters of the chair walking to the kitchen to deposit them in the garbage can as Peter opened the fridge. Spotting the milk, he nabbed it and took a long quaff from the carton, earning him a scowl from his shiny metal roommate.
“Must you do that?” Piotr inquired dusting off his hands over the garbage can.
"What?" Peter asked, slashed a hand across his lips catching the remaining moisture. "You do it too."
Piotr crossed his arms, hands resting on his large biceps, stared down at his roommate, the metal of his face deepening his frown. "I do not."
Peter grinned. "Do to." He swished the last of the milk around like he was sampling brandy.
"Do not."
"Do so."
"Nyet."
"Yup,” Peter nodded then added before Piotr could object, “Times infinity." He put the carton back to his lips, earning him a deeper frown from the much larger man. He finished the milk and tossed it in the garbage can, but the can was so full that the carton bouncing off the top caused an avalanche of trash onto the linoleum floor. Both men groaned, eying the offending garbage volcano with distaste.
Piotr reached under the cabinet and withdrew a black garbage bag. Handing it to his roommate, he turned on his heel and strode to his bedroom intent on powering down and getting into his pajamas.
“You know,” Peter called even as he began collecting the mess of wood, fabric, cans, bottles and moldy junk, “had you not crushed the chair, the garbage wouldn’t have overflowed.”
Piotr snorted. “Had you taken out the trash on your designated day, the crushed chair would have fit,” he shot back over his shoulder even as he allowed his body to relax, his muscles unclenching as he reverted back to flesh and blood. He took a deep breath and gave a mighty yawn, fishing in his dresser for his yellow pajama set and a pair of underwear.
As he listened to his friend grumble and the rustle of the plastic, a small smile of satisfaction spread across his face as he slipped into his underwear and pajama bottoms. He caught his reflection in the mirror above the dresser, ran a hand through his messy black hair even as he studied himself. Fatigue had settled in pockets under his blue eyes and he had a shadow of a beard, making his face look more gaunt than usual.
He shrugged on his pajama top his thick fingers pausing over the buttons as his eyes flickered over the only image he had been able to salvage from his destroyed apartment. It was the grainy photograph of his baby sister, Illyana, smiling sweetly as their cousin, Konstantin Mishchenko, snapped the picture just before they left the Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik with the other defectors. He had so wanted to bring his sister with him, but the route had been too treacherous for the four year old, and even Piotr had nearly died of starvation aboard the cargo ship that had snuck them out of the country. Had the second mate not been so kind to his passengers, Piotr was positive that they would have perished.
He sighed, brushing the tip of his finger with his lips and then pressing it to the picture. “Good night, Little Snowflake,” he whispered knowing she was no longer four years old but soon to be eight. Her birthday was in a few weeks. He had already bought the card he intended to mail her along with all of his earnings this quarter from his dishwashing job. He had to be careful sending letters home; he was not certain if the mail was checked by the KGB because he was mailing packages from the United States so he sent the money at random intervals. The last letter he received from his parents had told him that they were able to purchase a new tractor with the money and that the last winter was not as harsh as it had been, but he was still careful.
He walked back into the living room intent on finishing his letter to Kitty, saw Peter climbing back through the window from dumping the trash off the fire escape and into the dumpster below.
“Damn, is it cold outside,” he complained, rubbing his arms and then slamming the window shut. He opened his mouth to protest when Piotr picked up his paper and some pictures and sat at his desk, but thought better of it. He didn’t want his chair to be splinters in the trash.
“Kitty wrote,” Piotr said with a smile.
“Goodie,” Peter said under his breath, but smiled back and cheerfully intoned, “that’s great, Pete. Y’know that’s probably illegal ‘cause of her age and everything, right?”
Piotr’s smile didn’t falter as it had the first time Peter had suggested the age difference. “As you say. I see nothing wrong with maintaining a correspondence. Here. Read.”
Peter sighed and took the letter from his friend.
###
Input welcomed.