Fic: Catching Raindrops
Title: Catching Raindrops
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Kurt/OC
Rating: PG
A/N: For this, I win the Ultimate Nerd award. Not only did I create my own AU'verse for my stupid fucking doujinshi, I have now written fic in my own universe. Read first, crucify me later. Also, no spoilers here except that, yes, they do eventually get together.
The warm summer rain falls in heavy drops, striking the balcony rail in intermittent concussions like percussion crashes, and Kurt thinks, strangely, of Gershwin. From the relative cover of the overhanging eave, he can see Collette in the garden below. She is training, or perhaps playing a game, for her it is all equal, trying to catch raindrops.
He is not certain who first suggested this exercise; most likely Bobby, who is now with her, a mound of frozen droplets at his feet. The idea is to stop a single drop in its place, whether with a careful shield or a well-aimed bolt of ice. All the while, Collette is also keeping herself dry, though Bobby is long-since soaked through.
They are enjoying themselves, occasionally pelting each other with the fruits of their labours, ice bombs and dimensional water balloons, and, for a moment, Kurt considers joining them. But he has nothing to contribute to their game and is, understandably, rather averse to getting wet. As he watches, Collette collapses a shield to form a perfect sphere of water, from which Bobby creates a shining globe of ice. Raising her arms, as though in praise, Collette lifts the bright ball high above them so that it is almost even with the mansion roof. Jubilee must also be with them, closer to the house, because a burst of light explodes upward striking and shattering the strange ornament into a fall like glittering glass fireworks. A piece of ice strikes Kurt, and it is both warm and cold. He hears the others cheering as he turns back inside, shaking the melted droplets from his fur.
The room is littered with small items, and this, for him, is new. Clothes, books and mechanical components cluster in little pools on the floor, desk, dresser and spill from the corner of the bed, all of if -well, most- Collette’s. Her things have been slowly accumulating in his room -or, rather, on his floor- for a few months now, and this leisurely migration of possessions is comforting in the way of Swiss chocolate and chenille socks. Thinking this, he decides that, later, he will tell her so and hear her laugh at him, at his sentimentality, while she blushes and stores it away as she does all kind words.
He feels as she must, catching raindrops, holding his hands cupped to cradle the brightness she lets fall. She is a gift in all ways, like sunshine and colour and the shape of orchids, light and lovely, asking only strength for the times when her own should fail.
Looking out again at the rain, he thinks of her standing in the garden, face turned open to the falling rain like a flower freshly blooming. This image pulls him outward, to the drum of water falling like a hundred beating hearts, and so, maybe, he will join the others outside, afterall.
:shadowen:
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Kurt/OC
Rating: PG
A/N: For this, I win the Ultimate Nerd award. Not only did I create my own AU'verse for my stupid fucking doujinshi, I have now written fic in my own universe. Read first, crucify me later. Also, no spoilers here except that, yes, they do eventually get together.
The warm summer rain falls in heavy drops, striking the balcony rail in intermittent concussions like percussion crashes, and Kurt thinks, strangely, of Gershwin. From the relative cover of the overhanging eave, he can see Collette in the garden below. She is training, or perhaps playing a game, for her it is all equal, trying to catch raindrops.
He is not certain who first suggested this exercise; most likely Bobby, who is now with her, a mound of frozen droplets at his feet. The idea is to stop a single drop in its place, whether with a careful shield or a well-aimed bolt of ice. All the while, Collette is also keeping herself dry, though Bobby is long-since soaked through.
They are enjoying themselves, occasionally pelting each other with the fruits of their labours, ice bombs and dimensional water balloons, and, for a moment, Kurt considers joining them. But he has nothing to contribute to their game and is, understandably, rather averse to getting wet. As he watches, Collette collapses a shield to form a perfect sphere of water, from which Bobby creates a shining globe of ice. Raising her arms, as though in praise, Collette lifts the bright ball high above them so that it is almost even with the mansion roof. Jubilee must also be with them, closer to the house, because a burst of light explodes upward striking and shattering the strange ornament into a fall like glittering glass fireworks. A piece of ice strikes Kurt, and it is both warm and cold. He hears the others cheering as he turns back inside, shaking the melted droplets from his fur.
The room is littered with small items, and this, for him, is new. Clothes, books and mechanical components cluster in little pools on the floor, desk, dresser and spill from the corner of the bed, all of if -well, most- Collette’s. Her things have been slowly accumulating in his room -or, rather, on his floor- for a few months now, and this leisurely migration of possessions is comforting in the way of Swiss chocolate and chenille socks. Thinking this, he decides that, later, he will tell her so and hear her laugh at him, at his sentimentality, while she blushes and stores it away as she does all kind words.
He feels as she must, catching raindrops, holding his hands cupped to cradle the brightness she lets fall. She is a gift in all ways, like sunshine and colour and the shape of orchids, light and lovely, asking only strength for the times when her own should fail.
Looking out again at the rain, he thinks of her standing in the garden, face turned open to the falling rain like a flower freshly blooming. This image pulls him outward, to the drum of water falling like a hundred beating hearts, and so, maybe, he will join the others outside, afterall.
:shadowen: