New Fic
Title: The Great Pretenders
Author: shadow_diva
Fandom/Pairing: X-Evo - Ray/Kitty
Rating: FRT
Spoilers: Not really.
Disclaimer: I don't own, please don't sue.
Summary: What's real and just an illusion; they see beyond the facade. Two-chapter one-shot, each from a different POV.
Thanks to Dylan for the beta.
The Great Pretenders
© 2005, By: Ash Carroll (a.k.a. ShadowDiva)
You sip your punch and fight down the urge to roll your eyes at something Kurt just said. It really isn't all that funny, but you'll laugh anyway because it's expected.
And you always do what's expected of you.
Like wearing this ugly pink dress instead of the sexy blue one you really wanted to wear.
"That is, like, so funny, Kurt!"
And saying like after every two words.
Oh, you tried rebelling once - you dated Lance. But the whole thing ended rather badly; they usually do when your boyfriend keeps trying to kill you and your teammates.
You force out a high-pitched giggly laugh and it's convincing as usual. You can almost hear the audience applauding - and the Oscar for best imitation of an air-headed valley girl goes to Katherine Pryde.
Sometimes, you wonder why you bother to pretend. Ray wondered the same thing. You told him it's because they have your back when it counts, but you're beginning to wonder if he's right. After all, you have their backs a pretty fair amount of the time, too, and you think that maybe if you weren't always using your phasing powers to save their asses, you could watch out for your own a little more often.
You swallow a sigh with your last sip of punch and get rid of the glass. If they only knew you - the real Kitty, as Ray puts it. But they don't, not at all - and you don't think they want to. Scott and Jean only seem to care when it's convenient for them, and Kurt's too busy being a clown to take anything or anyone seriously.
But Ray knows you - better than anyone else. And you know him.
You know that he let Storm drive him to the airport last Christmas - but left shortly after she pulled the van away from the curb. He spent holiday break in the sewers, hiding from the Morlocks and the rest of New York City, because he didn't have anywhere else to go.
He likes to read - more than just comic books or trading cards. You caught him one day when you phased through a wall to hide from Bobby's 'panty-cam', forgetting that Ray's bedroom was on the other side. He was reading Harry Potter, and the two of you spent most of the day discussing the books, then half the night watching all the movies.
He wants other people to think he's so tough and detached, but you know better. He sketches pictures and writes poems, but you're the only one who gets to see them. He sings and plays guitar, but only for you. He doesn't laugh when you cry at the end of the Final Fantasy movie, because his eyes were a little damp at the end of Return of the King. He - unlike the rest of the Institute - remembers you're a vegetarian and orders pizza with every vegetable on the menu. He likes to play with your hair when you're watching TV, he always takes the aisle seat on the X-jet because he knows you like the window, he's the only person on the planet who can get away with calling you KitKat - and he's the only guy who's ever seen you without your makeup on and told you he liked you better that way.
There are so many other things about him that only you are privy to. You keep his secrets and he keeps yours; the little parts of yourselves that you lock away from everyone else.
You realize as you turn your attention back to the group of people around you that Jean and Scott are still making inane small talk while Kurt is saying something stupid and un-funny again, and you don't have to look at Ray to know that he's rolling his eyes skyward in annoyance.
You're in the middle of forcing out the expected airheaded giggle, when you glance at him - watching you with those intense green eyes - like he really sees you, like you're the only two people in the room.
And you like it.
It finally dawns on you that all that time you spent looking for Mr. Right - thinking you'd found him in Lance or Kurt - was wasted, because he'd already been found. You were just too dumb to realize it.
But you do now.
You think about waiting until later to tell him - after the party's over and the guests have gone home - but you're desperate for the dose of reality only he can give you, and you've waited too long already.
You smile up at him. "You owe me a dance."
Ray just looks at you. "I don't dance."
But you know he does - and you're already pulling him over to the dance floor, well aware that your teammates are watching. You turn and face him, sliding your arms around his neck. He's not sure what to do with his hands, so he lets them rest on your hips.
He looks confused, like he's trying to figure out why you've just dragged him out onto the dance floor in front of everyone you know. You look up at him, moving a little closer as your hand curls around the back of his neck, and you try to bring his head down far enough for your lips to meet his without getting a cramp in your neck.
Now he really looks confused.
You gaze up at him with a soft smile as you offer an answer to his unspoken question, hoping your eyes will convey what your words can't. "I'm tired of pretending."
A string of emotions flickers across his face as he works to process everything that's happened in the last few minutes. You hold your breath as you wait, wondering if you've just made a huge mistake by confessing everything that way. Then he looks into your eyes, and you know you worried for nothing.
His lips curve into an uncharacteristically soft smile - one he reserves for you alone. "So am I."
You close your eyes as he leans down so his mouth can meet yours, his hands sliding around your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your arms tighten around his neck. You're the center of attention now - everyone trying to figure out how they missed it - how a sweet, innocent, good girl like you ends up with a crass, street smart, bad boy like him.
You understand it, even if they don't. The simple fact is you're like yin and yang - there's a little bit of you both in each other. You tame his inner bad boy; he brings out the bad girl in you. This is what you want - this is real, dammit - and if they don't like it, they can kiss your ass and go fuck themselves.
For once, you don't give a damn what they think.
The End
Chapter 2
You tug at your collar for what feels like the millionth time and glance over at Kitty standing beside you, sipping her punch. Wagner just made one of his infamous dumb jokes and you swallow the groan of annoyance - and the insult - that threatens to escape. The fact that you'd embarrass Kitty is really the only thing stopping you.
You told her once that you don't know why the hell she bothers. She told you that they've got her back when it counts, and you guess that must be what you're missing.
The truth is they're her teammates, not yours. The X-Men have two separate teams and - with the exception of Kitty, who goes out of her way to be nice to everyone - they don't mix much. Summers and Grey don't hang around you and the other newbies - unless they're complaining about your lack of respect during training sessions; and you've never spent any time at all with Rogue or Wagner - other than stupid attempts to make small talk at boring parties like this one.
Kitty's different. She never makes you feel like an outsider, like somehow, you're not part of the team, even though you've bled for them. When she hangs out with a person, it's because she wants to - not because she's trying to look good in front of the adults.
Not that anyone else would think otherwise of her; yourself included.
The other three are looking at her like they know her so fucking well, but not well enough to know that she isn't really laughing. You think it would probably make their heads explode if they knew the real Kitty Pryde - but they only see the same facade she shows to the rest of the world because it's what they expect to see.
You don't - but then, they don't know her the way you do.
Her favorite color is actually blue - not pink - and she only talks like a Valley Girl to fit in with the popular crowd; back in Northbrook, she was shoved into her locker more times than she could count by the popular girls - and it's not an experience she wants to repeat here in Bayville.
She gave Lance a shot because she wanted to know what it felt like to do the unexpected for once in her life, and contrary to what the rest of your housemates thought, dumping him hadn't hurt her anywhere near as much as disappointing her teachers or the adults at the Institute.
She knows almost as much about the Final Fantasy games as you do, and she's seen the movie at least twenty times; the end always makes her cry. But you can't exactly laugh or tease her, because your eyes got a little misty at the end of Return of the King - and she knows it - but your secret is safe with her.
She'd rather read Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings than any fashion magazine. She despises Britney Spears, and every boy band in existence - but your Seether, Metallica, and Green Day CDs always seem to find their way under her bed. She watches AquaTeen and Sea Lab religiously - and does the scariest impersonation of Meatwad you've ever seen. And she likes to sit by the window on the X-jet - especially when Logan's flying.
She doesn't laugh at your sketches or your poetry; she didn't tell anyone about how you spent the holiday break this year - but insisted you come to Northbrook and spend it with her next winter. She likes the way you sing - and she's the only person in the world that you'll let call you Sparky.
There are at least a dozen more things you can think of about her that would surprise the fuck out of the Golden Couple and the Fuzzy Man - and you're sure she's got a similar list about you. You know all of her secrets, but it's a fair trade because she knows all of yours.
Except one.
She doesn't know you like to play with her hair because it's soft like silk, and always smells like roses; that you like her better without makeup because you think she's beautiful just the way she is; that you got a week's worth of detention for defending her honor after that white-haired fucker, Maximoff, attacked it.
But maybe she should; maybe it's time she learned your last little secret because you're honestly getting tired of keeping it.
You're wondering how you're going to tell her when Wagner makes another dumb joke, and you succumb to the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes. She glances over at you. She's done it lots of times before, but not like this. Her eyes are different, like they're seeing you for the first time.
She smiles up at you. "You owe me a dance."
You just look at her; she can't be serious. "I don't dance."
But this is Kitty you're talking to and she knows you too well - she's already pulling you over to the dance floor. She turns and faces you, her arms sliding around your neck. You're not sure what to do with your hands, so you rest them lightly on her hips.
You think you look just a tad bit confused, trying to figure out what the hell possessed her to drag you out onto the dance floor in front of all your housemates. She looks up at you and moves a little closer - you feel her hand curl around the back of your neck and you stare at her as she tries to pull your head down toward hers.
Now you know you look confused - like Dracula in a hall of mirrors. You even bet you have that 'huh what?' face that Bobby always makes when Beast tries to teach Chemistry.
She gazes up at you with a soft smile, and her eyes say it all - they always do - but she speaks anyway. "I'm tired of pretending."
You finally understand what Sam means when he says 'knock me over with a feather'. You always thought it was a stupid saying, and pretty fucking impossible, but if someone actually had a feather right now, you'd bet your life and twenty bucks that they could knock you flying with it - you do a quick search for Angel and locate him on the other side of the room, standing near the punch table.
You wonder if maybe she's doing this to buck the trend again - do something unexpected like dating Alvers - but you dismiss that almost immediately.
She's not in the habit of using people.
And neither are you.
Kitty's watching you with anxious eyes, and you know she's worrying that you don't feel the same. She couldn't be more wrong. On a babe scale of 1 to 10, she's an 11; face, hair, eyes, body - there isn't a single thing you would change.
But it goes beyond the physical.
You trust her. You've never really trusted anyone before, but you're learning; she's teaching you. Your fears, your hopes, your dreams - you can tell her your deepest secrets and you know she won't betray you.
How could you not feel the same?
You look into her eyes with a soft smile - one you reserve for her alone. "So am I."
Relief flashes in her eyes, and they flutter closed as you grant her earlier wish, leaning down so your mouth can meet hers - hands sliding around to the small of her back, pulling her closer as her arms tighten around your neck. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you're sure that everyone's eyes are on you - trying to figure out what the fuck just happened and how they missed it - but you're too preoccupied with her to care.
Soft skin, scent of roses, punch-flavored kiss - she's all you know, and you like it that way.
They don't understand it, but they don't have to - the important thing is that you do. It's like the missing piece in a puzzle; she tames the bad boy in you, and you set her inner bad girl free. This is real, this is what you want, and you don't give a fuck who likes it and who doesn't.
You've never cared what they think of you anyway.
The End
X-posted to evo_offroad
Author: shadow_diva
Fandom/Pairing: X-Evo - Ray/Kitty
Rating: FRT
Spoilers: Not really.
Disclaimer: I don't own, please don't sue.
Summary: What's real and just an illusion; they see beyond the facade. Two-chapter one-shot, each from a different POV.
Thanks to Dylan for the beta.
The Great Pretenders
© 2005, By: Ash Carroll (a.k.a. ShadowDiva)
You sip your punch and fight down the urge to roll your eyes at something Kurt just said. It really isn't all that funny, but you'll laugh anyway because it's expected.
And you always do what's expected of you.
Like wearing this ugly pink dress instead of the sexy blue one you really wanted to wear.
"That is, like, so funny, Kurt!"
And saying like after every two words.
Oh, you tried rebelling once - you dated Lance. But the whole thing ended rather badly; they usually do when your boyfriend keeps trying to kill you and your teammates.
You force out a high-pitched giggly laugh and it's convincing as usual. You can almost hear the audience applauding - and the Oscar for best imitation of an air-headed valley girl goes to Katherine Pryde.
Sometimes, you wonder why you bother to pretend. Ray wondered the same thing. You told him it's because they have your back when it counts, but you're beginning to wonder if he's right. After all, you have their backs a pretty fair amount of the time, too, and you think that maybe if you weren't always using your phasing powers to save their asses, you could watch out for your own a little more often.
You swallow a sigh with your last sip of punch and get rid of the glass. If they only knew you - the real Kitty, as Ray puts it. But they don't, not at all - and you don't think they want to. Scott and Jean only seem to care when it's convenient for them, and Kurt's too busy being a clown to take anything or anyone seriously.
But Ray knows you - better than anyone else. And you know him.
You know that he let Storm drive him to the airport last Christmas - but left shortly after she pulled the van away from the curb. He spent holiday break in the sewers, hiding from the Morlocks and the rest of New York City, because he didn't have anywhere else to go.
He likes to read - more than just comic books or trading cards. You caught him one day when you phased through a wall to hide from Bobby's 'panty-cam', forgetting that Ray's bedroom was on the other side. He was reading Harry Potter, and the two of you spent most of the day discussing the books, then half the night watching all the movies.
He wants other people to think he's so tough and detached, but you know better. He sketches pictures and writes poems, but you're the only one who gets to see them. He sings and plays guitar, but only for you. He doesn't laugh when you cry at the end of the Final Fantasy movie, because his eyes were a little damp at the end of Return of the King. He - unlike the rest of the Institute - remembers you're a vegetarian and orders pizza with every vegetable on the menu. He likes to play with your hair when you're watching TV, he always takes the aisle seat on the X-jet because he knows you like the window, he's the only person on the planet who can get away with calling you KitKat - and he's the only guy who's ever seen you without your makeup on and told you he liked you better that way.
There are so many other things about him that only you are privy to. You keep his secrets and he keeps yours; the little parts of yourselves that you lock away from everyone else.
You realize as you turn your attention back to the group of people around you that Jean and Scott are still making inane small talk while Kurt is saying something stupid and un-funny again, and you don't have to look at Ray to know that he's rolling his eyes skyward in annoyance.
You're in the middle of forcing out the expected airheaded giggle, when you glance at him - watching you with those intense green eyes - like he really sees you, like you're the only two people in the room.
And you like it.
It finally dawns on you that all that time you spent looking for Mr. Right - thinking you'd found him in Lance or Kurt - was wasted, because he'd already been found. You were just too dumb to realize it.
But you do now.
You think about waiting until later to tell him - after the party's over and the guests have gone home - but you're desperate for the dose of reality only he can give you, and you've waited too long already.
You smile up at him. "You owe me a dance."
Ray just looks at you. "I don't dance."
But you know he does - and you're already pulling him over to the dance floor, well aware that your teammates are watching. You turn and face him, sliding your arms around his neck. He's not sure what to do with his hands, so he lets them rest on your hips.
He looks confused, like he's trying to figure out why you've just dragged him out onto the dance floor in front of everyone you know. You look up at him, moving a little closer as your hand curls around the back of his neck, and you try to bring his head down far enough for your lips to meet his without getting a cramp in your neck.
Now he really looks confused.
You gaze up at him with a soft smile as you offer an answer to his unspoken question, hoping your eyes will convey what your words can't. "I'm tired of pretending."
A string of emotions flickers across his face as he works to process everything that's happened in the last few minutes. You hold your breath as you wait, wondering if you've just made a huge mistake by confessing everything that way. Then he looks into your eyes, and you know you worried for nothing.
His lips curve into an uncharacteristically soft smile - one he reserves for you alone. "So am I."
You close your eyes as he leans down so his mouth can meet yours, his hands sliding around your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your arms tighten around his neck. You're the center of attention now - everyone trying to figure out how they missed it - how a sweet, innocent, good girl like you ends up with a crass, street smart, bad boy like him.
You understand it, even if they don't. The simple fact is you're like yin and yang - there's a little bit of you both in each other. You tame his inner bad boy; he brings out the bad girl in you. This is what you want - this is real, dammit - and if they don't like it, they can kiss your ass and go fuck themselves.
For once, you don't give a damn what they think.
The End
Chapter 2
You tug at your collar for what feels like the millionth time and glance over at Kitty standing beside you, sipping her punch. Wagner just made one of his infamous dumb jokes and you swallow the groan of annoyance - and the insult - that threatens to escape. The fact that you'd embarrass Kitty is really the only thing stopping you.
You told her once that you don't know why the hell she bothers. She told you that they've got her back when it counts, and you guess that must be what you're missing.
The truth is they're her teammates, not yours. The X-Men have two separate teams and - with the exception of Kitty, who goes out of her way to be nice to everyone - they don't mix much. Summers and Grey don't hang around you and the other newbies - unless they're complaining about your lack of respect during training sessions; and you've never spent any time at all with Rogue or Wagner - other than stupid attempts to make small talk at boring parties like this one.
Kitty's different. She never makes you feel like an outsider, like somehow, you're not part of the team, even though you've bled for them. When she hangs out with a person, it's because she wants to - not because she's trying to look good in front of the adults.
Not that anyone else would think otherwise of her; yourself included.
The other three are looking at her like they know her so fucking well, but not well enough to know that she isn't really laughing. You think it would probably make their heads explode if they knew the real Kitty Pryde - but they only see the same facade she shows to the rest of the world because it's what they expect to see.
You don't - but then, they don't know her the way you do.
Her favorite color is actually blue - not pink - and she only talks like a Valley Girl to fit in with the popular crowd; back in Northbrook, she was shoved into her locker more times than she could count by the popular girls - and it's not an experience she wants to repeat here in Bayville.
She gave Lance a shot because she wanted to know what it felt like to do the unexpected for once in her life, and contrary to what the rest of your housemates thought, dumping him hadn't hurt her anywhere near as much as disappointing her teachers or the adults at the Institute.
She knows almost as much about the Final Fantasy games as you do, and she's seen the movie at least twenty times; the end always makes her cry. But you can't exactly laugh or tease her, because your eyes got a little misty at the end of Return of the King - and she knows it - but your secret is safe with her.
She'd rather read Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings than any fashion magazine. She despises Britney Spears, and every boy band in existence - but your Seether, Metallica, and Green Day CDs always seem to find their way under her bed. She watches AquaTeen and Sea Lab religiously - and does the scariest impersonation of Meatwad you've ever seen. And she likes to sit by the window on the X-jet - especially when Logan's flying.
She doesn't laugh at your sketches or your poetry; she didn't tell anyone about how you spent the holiday break this year - but insisted you come to Northbrook and spend it with her next winter. She likes the way you sing - and she's the only person in the world that you'll let call you Sparky.
There are at least a dozen more things you can think of about her that would surprise the fuck out of the Golden Couple and the Fuzzy Man - and you're sure she's got a similar list about you. You know all of her secrets, but it's a fair trade because she knows all of yours.
Except one.
She doesn't know you like to play with her hair because it's soft like silk, and always smells like roses; that you like her better without makeup because you think she's beautiful just the way she is; that you got a week's worth of detention for defending her honor after that white-haired fucker, Maximoff, attacked it.
But maybe she should; maybe it's time she learned your last little secret because you're honestly getting tired of keeping it.
You're wondering how you're going to tell her when Wagner makes another dumb joke, and you succumb to the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes. She glances over at you. She's done it lots of times before, but not like this. Her eyes are different, like they're seeing you for the first time.
She smiles up at you. "You owe me a dance."
You just look at her; she can't be serious. "I don't dance."
But this is Kitty you're talking to and she knows you too well - she's already pulling you over to the dance floor. She turns and faces you, her arms sliding around your neck. You're not sure what to do with your hands, so you rest them lightly on her hips.
You think you look just a tad bit confused, trying to figure out what the hell possessed her to drag you out onto the dance floor in front of all your housemates. She looks up at you and moves a little closer - you feel her hand curl around the back of your neck and you stare at her as she tries to pull your head down toward hers.
Now you know you look confused - like Dracula in a hall of mirrors. You even bet you have that 'huh what?' face that Bobby always makes when Beast tries to teach Chemistry.
She gazes up at you with a soft smile, and her eyes say it all - they always do - but she speaks anyway. "I'm tired of pretending."
You finally understand what Sam means when he says 'knock me over with a feather'. You always thought it was a stupid saying, and pretty fucking impossible, but if someone actually had a feather right now, you'd bet your life and twenty bucks that they could knock you flying with it - you do a quick search for Angel and locate him on the other side of the room, standing near the punch table.
You wonder if maybe she's doing this to buck the trend again - do something unexpected like dating Alvers - but you dismiss that almost immediately.
She's not in the habit of using people.
And neither are you.
Kitty's watching you with anxious eyes, and you know she's worrying that you don't feel the same. She couldn't be more wrong. On a babe scale of 1 to 10, she's an 11; face, hair, eyes, body - there isn't a single thing you would change.
But it goes beyond the physical.
You trust her. You've never really trusted anyone before, but you're learning; she's teaching you. Your fears, your hopes, your dreams - you can tell her your deepest secrets and you know she won't betray you.
How could you not feel the same?
You look into her eyes with a soft smile - one you reserve for her alone. "So am I."
Relief flashes in her eyes, and they flutter closed as you grant her earlier wish, leaning down so your mouth can meet hers - hands sliding around to the small of her back, pulling her closer as her arms tighten around your neck. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you're sure that everyone's eyes are on you - trying to figure out what the fuck just happened and how they missed it - but you're too preoccupied with her to care.
Soft skin, scent of roses, punch-flavored kiss - she's all you know, and you like it that way.
They don't understand it, but they don't have to - the important thing is that you do. It's like the missing piece in a puzzle; she tames the bad boy in you, and you set her inner bad girl free. This is real, this is what you want, and you don't give a fuck who likes it and who doesn't.
You've never cared what they think of you anyway.
The End
X-posted to evo_offroad