THE X-MEN FIRST CLASS KINK MEME: PROMPT POST
You know why you're here. You've seen the movie. You're asking yourself, "So where was the gratuitous Emma Frost as White Queen in a corset? When did Mystique totally make it with Beast? WHY IN HEAVENS DID XAVIER AND MAGNETO NEVER MAKE OUT
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Alex--
Multiples of 6 today. Auspicious? Inauspicious? Do you believe in that shit?
We had Chinese for Thanksgiving here, since you seem concerned about whether Raven is ‘taking care of’ me. You do realize her being here is a rather large favor, don’t you? The sort of awkward thing that’s not supposed to happen during wars?
Incidentally, I can take care of myself if need be, though lately that sometimes that manifests itself as an inclination to eat rabbits.
Your cat story makes me a little squeamish, to be frank. I think I may be part cat now? Or ape? But I suppose humans are apes already. Still; killing a being you cared for by accident seems worse than having toes chopped off, in its way. It never hurt terribly.
No news here, been raining almost an entire week. I think it may be a mutant, but Raven and I don’t talk about these things. Is the Professor picking up anyone in the area?
-H
They decide to invite Moira to Christmas. Raven sees her again, when she’s out as Hank.
“She watched me,” she says. “She has to know what we’re doing. She knows you’re--”
“Yes,” Hank says. “She knows.”
There are a lot of things Moira is, impetuous, maybe, but dumb is not one of them.
Raven comes back home one day, dumps her satchel on the floor, and says, “She’s coming.” It’s a fluid motion, and Hank is picking the satchel up and putting it on a chair before he fully comprehends what she said.
“You told her what it was going to be like, right?” Hank asked, and Raven nodded.
“She said she knows a place with great dumplings.”
Which sounds alright.
So that’s how Hank ends up having Christmas dinner with Raven and Moira MacTaggert, who shows up on their stoop looking tired and apologetic in a sort of vague way, like she’s not entirely sure why she agreed to this, but she’s carrying a brown paper bag that smells of dumplings, and Hank and Raven have already set a third place at the table.
“It’s good to see you,” Hank says, and he’s surprised that it’s genuine, then more surprised when Moira takes his hand and gives it a tight squeeze.
“You too,” she replies.
They eat largely in silence, but then Moira breaks it by saying, “So, have you been reading the Oracle?”
“I don’t even understand why we get it,” Hank says, and Moira smiles a little.
“I put you on a list,” she says. “The CIA wanted to keep an eye on the hippies, you know, and they figured--”
“They figured it wouldn’t matter much if you fucked it up,” Raven finishes, her eyes bright. Moira doesn’t look contrite, just nods.
“I think there might be a place for mutants, there,” she says. “In the counterculture, I mean.”
“Do you think they’d actually be able to handle it if they met with us?” Raven asks, and Moira shrugs.
“There’s only one way to know,” she says, but her voice is gentle, like she knows she’s pushing something. “I don’t know any mutants who are actively involved, but I think if you married your cause to theirs--”
“Everyone would think we were drug-addled as well as dangerous?” Raven interjects, and Moira looks at her.
“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe you would gain human supporters, and Hank would be able to leave the house during daylight hours.”
“Have you been spying on us?” Raven asks, and Moira shrugs.
“There are some things you don’t have to see to know,” she says.
Hank changes the subject. He doesn’t know whether he wants to alley himself with any group in particular, but he feels like his opinion is the one that matters if Moira’s going to use his housebound status to argue her point.
He doesn’t want to talk about it. He can take care of himself.
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