Kitty Pryde (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} justaphase) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} avengers_logs,@ 2021-08-06 19:53:00 |
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| Entry tags: | -complete, kitty pryde, peter wisdom |
Who: Kitty Pryde & Pete Wisdom
What: A conversation that's been a long time coming
Where: Pete's apartment in the Tower
When: A few days after they returned from Madripoor
Warnings: nope
Status: complete
It felt a little weird settling back into life at the tower after Madripoor. Kitty wasn’t sure how the superhero types switched back and forth between normal life and missions so easily. Maybe it was something that came with time. This had been her first real mission, after all, and it made her realize that she needed a lot more training. Along with some other things.
A glance at the calendar reminded her that it was coming up on a year since she and Pete had escaped from Genosha. If it hadn’t been for him, she most likely wouldn’t be here, and might actually not have survived. So much happened during that time, but as she thought back over it, she realized Pete was the one constant. She’d told Raven that she was crushing on him and the other woman had encouraged her to be open about it. After kissing him in Madripoor as cover, Kitty realized that it wasn’t just a little crush - she had Feelings with a capital F which was something she’d never really experienced before.
She needed to talk to Pete to figure out if there was any chance that he reciprocated those feelings. If he didn’t, she was going to need to take a little space to work past hers so they could still be friends. Some of the things he’d said and done made her think that he might though and that slim hope was what led her to his door.
“Pete? It’s me? You busy?” she called.
Pete's apartment was what could only be called 'industrial chic.' Cement type walls, bare bones furnishings, unforgiving overhead lighting. On one wall was a ballerina picture, but the rest was the sort of bachelor mess that only a spy used to hiding in rats nests could manage.
A can of beans on the kitchen counter with a spoon stuck in it. The faint scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air, and unrinsed alcohol bottles were overflowing in the trash.
Pete himself looked like he was on the tail end of a hangover, and the shadow over his jaw had just hit four-thirty. He didn't believe that Kitty would be interested in him, but he couldn't get the kiss out of his mind either. The usual methods of dulling things like murder missions weren't working. It nagged on him, no matter how many times he told himself it was stupid to even consider there might be more to it.
He still wasn't considering it as he heard her on the other side of his door. He dragged himself off the couch and over to the door, opening it up, wearing funny boxers and a plain white t-shirt. It beat the standard spook suit, which he was usually wearing.
He also wore sarcasm well, which is why he smirked at her and said, "No, I'm horribly busy watching the telly. What's the matter?"
It was rare that Kitty saw him in anything other than a suit, or at least it had been since their escape, and she couldn’t help but stare for a moment longer than was acceptable when he opened the door. The white t-shirt displayed how well-muscled he was under the suits and the boxers made her laugh. And also blush a little because she couldn’t help but think about his ‘gun’.
Clearing her throat, she forced herself to meet his eye. “If you can drag yourself away, I was hoping we could talk,” she said. There was a note of discomfort in her tone that, coupled with her slight blush, would make it obvious to anyone, let alone a spy, that she was anxious about having this conversation. Kitty was hoping she wasn’t about to make a complete fool of herself by admitting that she liked him considering the age difference and the fact that he was no doubt used to being with far more worldly and experienced women.
She was dressed casually, in a pair of black yoga pants and a dark purple tank top, and had her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. The thought of putting on something a little nicer, maybe even some makeup, did cross her mind and then she decided against it. Pete had seen her at her absolute worst when they were in Genosha so she figured it would be a waste of time. Plus this way she’d be at least physically comfortable, even if she might want to let herself phase through the floor at some point.
Pete opened the door more and leaned against it. He didn't dare hope that it was something more than a casual conversation or her needing someone to listen, and bitch a lot while offering his opinions, because he was good at that. Since she was dressed like she had been working out, this seemed entirely informal.
"Sure. You want to come in?" he said, absolutely unashamed of the current state of his living quarters. He stayed in worse places before. He occasionally visited even worse places than that. His arsehole of a father smelled like mildewed cardboard and musty undies, and had spray painted conspiracy theories all over the inside and outside of his house. At least he hoped it was spray paint, since some of it was written in shades of brown.
Regardless, he was nowhere near that level of uncleanliness. By those standards, this place was pristine.
"It's nothing fancy like. But I can make you some coffee and I promise not to spit in it."
Manners. He has some. Not many. But some.
“Coffee would be great, thanks,” Kitty said as she made her way inside, gaze taking in the stark bareness and lack of personal touches, with the exception of the ballerina picture on one wall. She made a mental note to pick up a few more things for him, to make his space a bit more cozy. Well, depending on how this conversation went. She also didn’t really want coffee, figured she didn’t need the caffeine jangling her nerves worse than they already were, but at least it would buy her a few minutes before diving in to her reason for stopping over and give her something to do with her hands.
She gingerly took a seat on his sofa, moving a few items out of the way - mostly discarded clothes which, again, made her cheeks flush a little as she got a sudden mental image of him removing them. ‘Okay, get it together, Pryde’ she said to herself. “Do you have any trips coming up?” she asked aloud, figuring that was a safe opening topic until he finished making the coffee and sat down.
The only personal touch was something she gave him, the picture. It was far more than he ever kept around. Belongings were transitory things to him. If his cover was compromised and he left in a rush, he didn't bring anything with him. It was him, a gun, money to get a ticket or a ride out of there. That was it.
Luckily he lived in the Tower for now because he couldn't torch everything as he was leaving.
"Nothing quite yet," he said from the kitchen. His version of coffee was Nescafe instant coffee granules. Sometimes he ate the spoonful and drank some water if he was in a hurry. Or hungover. He came out with two cups, keenly aware that he wasn't exactly dressed like he usually was. All of his boxers were based on a dare or a joke anyway. He sat the cups down on the coffee table and sat next to her and explained, "Poured sugar in before stirring. Don't have creamer, so afraid you'll have to make do."
Maybe he should have tidied the place up. He chastised himself for thinking that. Kitty was probably here to brush off the entire situation in the club, which was well enough. This way, he could stop thinking about it.
No way was he going to start that conversation, so he picked up his cup and took a hearty sip, waiting for her to talk first.
Kitty picked up the cup and took a sip, trying hard not to make a face. This was terrible coffee. Mentally, she added a coffee pot to the shopping list she was already making in her head of things for Pete. Which, again, was getting far ahead of herself.
“I… um…” Now that she was here, she had no idea how to begin. There were a lot of things she wanted to say, but none of them seemed quite right as the way to start this conversation. She sighed and decided to plunge right in. “I like you,” she blurted out.
Yeah, that was real smooth, Pryde. “I mean… I feel like there’s something between us. More than just friends.” Maybe she should have googled some suggestions for this type of conversation since she had no real personal experience. “If I’m reading it wrong, please tell me and that’s fine. I don’t want to mess up our friendship. You’re really important to me either way. But… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you in Madripoor and I needed to know what you were thinking.” She finally stopped babbling to take a breath and forced herself to look at him to see his reaction. If he laughed at her, she might actually phase through the floor.
It was shite coffee, but it did its job. Which was to give someone the jitters, so they got their arse moving out the door to do Her Majesty's dirty work.
He didn't expect this, though. And as he took another sip of syrupy bitterness and listened, he suddenly coughed it back into the cup and promptly set it down.
"Great, now I've spat in it," he grumbled, "and served it to myself."
To hell with it. He picked up the cup and drained it all, wishing it was half Scotch whisky. Because the Scottish were bastards, and no one messed with them when they were drunk. No one.
Pete looked over at her like he wasn't sure he heard right (only he definitely heard right). First thing first, he reminded himself not to tell Kitty she was nutters. She was still young. A college student. He was older than she was, and her life was only just getting started. This might be a case of infatuation, which would pass. And while he could take advantage of that - he might want to - his tarnished and bent up moral compass was telling him he really shouldn't.
"Uh, I like you too. I mean..." This couldn't be any more awkward. Usually, he tried to put the old Essex charm on the ladies with a sly wink and some innuendo. Not so this time. Now he felt like he was thrown into an ice-cold ocean and didn't know how to swim. "..I don't want to mess up our friendship, either. I've not got a lot of friends. Half of them are dead now. Which, you know, puts a rather large target on your back as well.
"I guess...I should point that out," he said like he was blurting things out too. "I liked the kiss, for what it's worth. I thought you were only playing along, but it seems not. Rather abrupt. Which I didn't mind. Very impetuous, Kitty."
There, he got that much out. It may or may not have made sense. He wasn't sure if it was a yes or a no. He stared at her and then directed that stare at the television, squinting as some mustached wanker tried to sell overpriced recycled foam pillows. The squinting wasn't for the pillow guy. Normally, he would glare. Instead, he was thinking things over, WHILE being appalled at American hyper-consumerism.
Kisses. Pillows. Kisses. Pillows. Fucking hell. What was his life since he ended up in Genosha? She must feel the same way.
"Do you want to see if there's something between us?" That seemed like a compromise.
Pete looked over at her again, slightly wary. Of course he would be. He didn't want to foul it up like every other relationship he had before.
That was… much easier than Kitty was expecting. To the point where it left her floundering to find a response. She’d crafted numerous arguments in her head to counter the objections she was expecting him to make and apparently she didn’t need them.
“I… yes?” she said. Her hesitance was obvious, in part because she hadn’t actually thought this far ahead. She met his gaze and couldn’t hold back a peal of nervous laughter. “I’m sorry. I have never had this kind of conversation before.” Her previous dating experience was far more casual and typically involved some guy asking her on a date. There was history between her and Pete that made this situation completely different.
She glanced at the television to see what had caught his attention and almost as quickly looked back to him because the guy on the screen gave her the creeps. “It’s been almost a year since we escaped,” she said, her voice a bit more quiet now. “I’m not the same girl you met there.” When she first got grabbed, she’d led such a sheltered and privileged life that she had no idea how hard and rough the world could be. Her time on Genosha opened her eyes to that and connecting with the Avengers and other assorted folks after, showed her that she wanted to and could be a person who tried to combat the bad things.
"No, you're not." Pete squinted at her, still trying to figure out where he was on this. Yes, but naturally wary. Of course he was. He lobbed death glares at Starbucks employees because he read once they put addictive chemicals in their coffees so people kept spending entirely too much money on them. Hence, instant coffee.
"All right. So we see where this is going," he said, ready to put a hotknife through the TV at any second. Stark would replace it. Luckily the commercial ended and he regretted piggybacking off Fat Bastard in Cybercrime's sorry version of Hulu. It was his way of unwinding after missions by watching rude off-colour cartoons. "You should know, everyone I've ever gone out with has ended up dead or I had to put them in prison for one thing or another. Attempting to kill the Queen was a major reason. So if I go a bit funny, you'll know why."
He never really mentioned it. Mostly because it hadn't come up. And now Kitty was there, on his sofa, making attachments in an apartment he was trying not to get attached to. A fact that wasn't lost on him as he grumbled, "I'll fuck this up. I'm rubbish boyfriend material. If you came here expecting an argument, I could give you plenty."
Please, his stare said, argue with him. It was either that or kissing her and it was awkward enough already.
“I didn’t quite get around to making a powerpoint presentation, but I do have my arguments ready to go if you want to hear them,” Kitty said. She had no intentions of doing anything he would have to arrest her for and considering that she felt much safer in his presence, figured that dating him wasn’t going to increase her chances of dying.
She actually looked a little amused now because g*d help her, she found the grumpiness kind of endearing. “I haven’t exactly had a ton of relationships, so I don’t have much to compare you against which means I won’t know if you’re rubbish at being a boyfriend.”
Over the past eighteen months, she’d been on the receiving end of many of Pete’s rants about… well, everything. And none of it pushed her away so far so she didn’t really see that changing.
"I don't need a bloody powerpoint presentation," he shot back, with an exaggerated eye roll. It was the pinnacle of Peteness. "And sure you haven't had a ton of relationships. I've gathered. You picked a fine one to dive into with me, though. And I hope you realize, if I meet your parents face to face, we're going to have to play me off as the skeezy college professor bedding their daughter for however long. We can't exactly un-lie our way out of that rubbish now we've used it."
And there's the rant. Although it was about meeting her parents face to face. So take that as thou will.
Kitty laughed at his rant. “We were going to have to do that anyway,” she said. “If we’re at least dating for real, it’ll be a little easier to pull off.” She still hadn’t actually visited her parents, largely out of fear that she would somehow put herself or them into danger, but she would like to see them at some point.
“You make me laugh,” she said. “And you make me feel safe.” She paused and raised her eyebrows a little. “And I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror lately…” There was a lot more to it than that, but those were the important points in her mind.
"You're impossible." Pete stared at her incredulously, with his eyebrows raised. He could really use a few drinks and a lot of cigarettes right now just to cope with how impossible Kitty Pryde was. He was trying to quit, but no one ever quit without falling off the bandwagon a few
She seemed pretty set on it and even if he was hesitant, something in him really didn't want to say no. Like it might be worthwhile to take a chance for once. After all, this messed up universe had brought them together through sheer circumstance.
He shrugged and caved completely, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in toward him. He might be lanky but he was warm at least. And he did feel better with her around, and not just as back up either.
"Fine. We'll give it a go. But don't blame me if I'm a miserable bastard and you get tired of me."
When he pulled her against him it felt right and Kitty closed her eyes for a moment, just breathing and taking in the moment. For the first time in a year and a half, since that awful day when Sinister’s goons grabbed her off the streets of New York and changed her life forever, she felt content. She could never go back to the girl she was before that awful day, but she was feeling better every day about the girl she was becoming.
“Hopefully your work trips will line up with those times when I’m getting tired of you,” she joked, tipping her head back so she could look up at him.
Maybe this would work out. Maybe it wouldn’t. It could crash and burn spectacularly given the vast differences between them and their life experiences. The only way to know for sure was to try though and Kitty would rather try and fail than not try at all and always wonder.
He laughed at that, shaking his head before looking down at her, meeting her gaze. It might work out. It might not. It definitely was odd. But if she was willing to throw in with him despite it all, if he hadn't chased her off yet, then it was better to crash and burn than never try at all.
He'd probably pay for it someday. He always did.
He stole a lingering kiss, one that had been a long time coming. Perhaps even before the kiss she gave him in the club, maybe even as far back as Genosha, when they were both alone and suffering and found one another.
When it ended, his lips were still hovering against hers while he murmured under his breath, "That's my girl."
Things could only get more interesting from here.