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It's evening in Westchester, and the night air, thanks to the August sun, remains comfortable despite the withdrawal of daylight. After some discussion, a plan was hatched to meet in the foyer of the mansion to walk to the Diner. The machinations of a Cat-Man and Red Head had resulted in the current plan that probably wouldn't have culminated without their influence.
For her part, Jean's influence seems to have been at least moderately successful. Kitty's brown locks wisp around her face in a rather purposive mass of curls — a welcome break from the tight ponytails she's been sporting as of late. A single ribbon keeps the curls out of her face, acting as a headband rather than hair-tie. The dress she's borrowed has a British influence: sleeveless, falling mid-thigh; green with white polka dots. While she doesn't wear skirts or dresses often, when she'd tried it on, she openly admitted that it made her feel pretty. The kitten heels she's wearing, however, are barely walkable for her, and her balance is just a little off with each step — almost like a child dressed in her mother's heels. Every few steps she wobbles a little, much like a fawn trying to walk for the first time. It's just a little ridiculous.
But despite her imbalance, she stands at the door just a few minutes early. Oh Kitty Pryde, ever prompt.
*
As many advantages come with Piotr's size, there are some drawbacks, as well. A lack of friends of the correct size to borrow nicer clothes from, for example. Purchasing anything of the sort has never been a priority for the Russian, and money has been tight enough that he just… hasn't worried about it.
Between this and the fact that his hair is too short to really style, Piotr looks remarkably like he always does when he makes his way down the stairs and towards the foyer. He did find a collared shirt and comb his hair, at least, so… he's trying, okay? But when he sees her waiting for him by the door, Piotr stops in place and blinks once, suddenly self-conscious. She looks nice. Maybe he should have tried harder.
"You look very nice," Piotr says, a little awkward as he makes his way to join her by the door. "Did Jean insist?"
*
The comment draws a skeptical arch of Kitty's eyebrow. Even if she feels pretty, she also feels just a little odd; she hasn't worn a dress in a long stretch — not since Japan when others had insisted anything that feminine lacked real practicality. "Thanks, so do you," a warm glow already spreads on the apples of her cheeks. She inhales a sharp breath and nods at the question, "She was adamant. I haven't been this dressed up in a very long time." There's a flicker of a smile that follows the words, nearly bashful. "I think Jean was really excited or something — "
There's a pause and Kitty's hands retreat behind her back, clasping there as she notes, "You kind of got roped into this. I'm sorry about that. If you're not actually wanting to go, I can stick around here. It is okay." Her throat clears. "Just make sure you bring Keith back some dinner rolls. That was his mission."
*
That offer causes Piotr's eyes to widen and, quickly, he holds up his hands. "Nyet! I mean. No." He clears his throat, feeling his own cheeks grow hotter. Ignore it, man, and steady on. "I am always happy for your company, Katya. I did not want you to consider it a date because Jean and Keith called it one," he explains, anxiously running a hand back over his hair. He pauses, realizing how that might sound, and hurriedly adds, "Not that I am opposed! It would be very nice, I think. But I should be the one to ask, not —"
Yeah, there's no way for this conversation to go gracefully, is there? Piotr just makes a mildly exasperated noise at their circumstances and hangs his head, dragging a hand down across his face.
*
Kitty's eyes train on Piotr and her chin drops slightly. Her shoulders slump slightly and her expression turns crestfallen when Piotr says he didn't want her to consider it a date. She doesn't say anything in return, but her face scrunches at the last. She studies him for a few moments while indecision pings on the edges of her mind. Finally, with two small shuffle steps forward, she closes the distance between him and reaches for the hand at his face. There's no question that Piotr can avoid the touch if he so desires (simply by straightening thanks to their height difference), but despite her own shyness, Kitty's need to reassure remains.
"Pete, it's okay. I'm still me," she offers with a lopsided grin. The grin falters some as her cheeks redden, "I… don't need this to be a date. I like your company regardless. I do. I'm not jilted or something because it's not." She forces a tight-lipped smile. "I'm a big girl." Look at Kitty Pryde taking rejection in stride.
*
Piotr does not, in fact, straighten up. On the contrary, he lets her take his hand away from his face without even the tiniest bit of resistance, even if the expression his palm had been hiding was one of very clear embarassment. He studies her face for a long moment, his brow slowly knitting together in mild confusion.
"I… think I am not saying this right," Piotr sighs, thinking hard. Slowly, he brings his other hand up to rest against Kitty's shoulder, just as easy to avoid as her hand would have been for him. "I would like it to be. But only if you would. Not because Jean and Keith have pushed."
*
Curious concern colours Kitty's expression when she spies his face, offering him another gentler more reassuring smile. The clarification wins a broad, toothy grin, complete with dimples amid a quite crimson face, and the hand on her shoulder is learned into rather than avoided.
"I would," she answers quietly. She gives his hand a squeeze. And then with a soft giggle she shakes her head, "Well this is a good start." She exasperates: "I'm sorry that we were pressured. I really do want it to be. Truly. I just thought if we were going to go on a date it'd be more… organic, I guess?" her eyes squint slightly. "I don't think I'm explaining this well."
And so, she blazes passed all of that, and takes a small step towards the door, still grasping his hand, "Shall we?"
*
Piotr lets out a breath as relief floods his face, his lips drawing back into a broad smile. "You are explaining it as well as I am, I think," he muses, finally straightening up to his full height. "Do not apologize. They mean well," he says, casting a brief glance over his shoulder.
He does not appear to be in a rush to take his hand back, either. Piotr gives her fingers a light squeeze and nods once, preparing to fall into step with her. "Da. I will try not to be terrible date," he assures her, sketching a cross over his chest with his free hand. "But I make no promises."
*
"Ha! Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin, have you met yourself?" Kitty casts a playful glance over her shoulder as she continues to grasp his hand and leads them out the door. "You are naturally all of the things Jean instructed. You're the single most caring attention man I think I've ever met." With a level of honesty normally reserved for Catholics on Sunday, she suggests, "Out of the two of us, I'm more likely to be the terrible date." Chew on that thought for awhile.
The pair begin to stroll down the block from the school towards the Diner, walking at a relatively easy pace. She hasn't yet relinquished his hand, and, at this rate seems unlikely to do so soon. "Did you manage to get some sleep? I never do well when my schedule changes rapidly."
*
Breaking out the middle name and everything. Piotr looks duly chastened. Amused, too. "I am just as capable of being terrible date," he insists with a laugh, lengthening his stride for precisely as long as it takes to fall into step at Kitty's side. "I cannot dance and have no wish to step on your feet, and I have little money. I did not even think to bring flowers," he notes, giving his head a slow shake and clicking his tongue. "Disgraceful."
Piotr nods once at the question, offering her another smile. "I did. Not as much as I perhaps should have, but…" He trails off and shrugs a shoulder. The mission itself didn't tire him out — just another benefit to his mutation — but everything surrounding it was certainly draining. "I am fine. I will sleep better when Keith is well, I am sure."
*
"Well," Kitty's eyes gleam with familiar mischief, "I can dance, but I don't. And I'm pretty sure even if we did dance, I could make sure you don't step on my feet. I'm kind of good at it," a glance is given to her still-bandaged shoulder, "Mostly." With a smirk she suggests, "Money is overrated." She dismisses easily, "There's more important things." The flowers comment earns an ironic smile, "Maybe I'm allergic," she's not.
"Good. You need the rest. There's a lot going on and, I can't imagine you slept well the night before the mission," her eyes train on the ground in front of her. "Thank you for that. I didn't get a chance to thank you again. It was the best sleep I'd had in weeks." His hand is given a prompt squeeze and in doing so, she seems to remember she's still holding it. She murmurs a quiet apology and gently releases it.
*
It takes approximately half a second for Piotr's arm to find its way around Kitty's shoulders instead, and if she doesn't object, she is given a brief, light hug against his side as they walk. "It was not so bad," he admits, offering what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "I am glad I was able to help. If you are still having trouble sleeping, I would be happy to sit with you again."
*
The arm around her shoulders causes Kitty to beam despite herself, and she sidles against him with that light hug. "I don't believe you," she counters softly. "I don't think a Kitty blanket makes for very good rest." She gives him a one-shouldered shrug. The offer, however, causes a pink hue to line her cheeks, "I don't want to be selfish." The smile falters as she notes, "Sleep doesn't come easily though. I… try. I do. I just think. A lot. And it's like… I'm running around in my own mind."
*
The reply is more than enough to ensure that he leaves his arm where it is. "Asking for help is not selfish, Katya. I would not offer if I would consider it troublesome," Piotr notes gently, his head tilting slightly as he looks down at her with a worried furrow of his brow. He is quiet for a moment, thinking. "Perhaps talking about it would help? I am glad to listen, too. Though less time spent in medbay would also be good, I think," he adds, forcing some lightness into his tone.
*
"Maybe," Kitty concedes talking about it might help. Absently, she chews on one of her nails. The comment about medbay causes her to groan. "That place, I swear. If I ever have to visit a hospital again, it'll be way too soon." Her eyes lid lightly. "I don't want to burden you," she finally offers with a heavy sigh. "It's not… I'm not…" her face begins to pale. "It wasn't okay. What I think happened." She emits a soft sigh, "It isn't okay." Her lips press together tightly for a moment, "But it's more than that. I am not even sure what happened and what my brain made up in my own dream world."
*
Piotr does not insist that it would not be a burden — she is talking, and that's really all he wants. He gives her shoulders another squeeze as she speaks, his lips pulled back into a pensive frown. Clearly, he does not like seeing her so troubled, especially when there is nothing he can do to just fix it. "There is the file," he notes in a very quiet voice. "I cannot imagine it would be easy to read. But it could help you learn what was true and what was not, if nothing else." That is a very strange look on Piotr. Helplessness.
*
Kitty acquiesces with a silent nod. She swallows hard. "I just can't decide whether knowing is better than not." She issues him a sidelong stare. "Like, right now, I can sometimes almost convince myself that the worst of it I made up in my head, that it was some kind of drug-induced illusion. If it's real… that means they hurt me. Whoever they are," her eyes squint, "went out of their way to bring me harm. But for what? To what end?" Her lips twitch, "If I know, I know." Her teeth play at her bottom lip, "Would you want to know if it was you?"
*
With that, Piotr purses his lips and casts his eyes towards the sky, falling silent. Clearly, he is not taking the question lightly, wanting to give it the consideration it is truly due.
"I think… I think that I would," he finally says, turning his face to Kitty again. "I would drive myself mad with things that may have been, otherwise. Even if the truth were terrible, at least I would not have doubts. But," Piotr continues gently, his free hand coming up to very lightly, briefly, tuck a finger under her chin. "It would take time before I was brave enough to look."
*
When Piotr gives the question ample thought, Kitty maintains her silence, allowing him the space to think about it. The touch under her chin warrants a soft smile, as does the answer. While her smile is genuine, weariness also reflects in her eyes as she observes, "And it's not even that someone would want to cause me harm that bothers me. I'm a mutant. My parents struggled with what I can do. I was scared of myself. People protest our very existence every day, and want us to have fewer rights. No, I know a lot of people want to hurt me." Her voice turns to a whisper, "But never when I was asleep. Not like that. Not — " she chokes on her words.
And then, with the smallest raise of her chin, she offers, "And I'm not brave like you." She shrugs. "I haven't had to be. I'm basically a tiny ninja that can walk through people. Doesn't really take courage if no one can touch you anyways."
*
This is, Piotr is certain, a terrible date. But it is also important, at least in his mind. Even before Kitty chokes on her words, he's casting a quick look around and then, gently, uses his arm around her shoulders to guide her towards a bench. The street is quiet enough at this hour.
Once they are no longer moving forward, Piotr releases her shoulders, but only so that he can settle down in a crouch in front of her and take both of her hands in his. "Katya. Stop. You are braver than you give yourself credit for," he says quietly, though there is a confidence beneath the words. "And I am less brave than you think. This is most I have spoken aloud outside of the Institute's walls in…" He trails off. "…ever, I think." His lips tighten, and so does his grip around her fingers. "You are not overreacting, Katya. Being afraid of this, it is not a sign of weakness."
*
Well, Piotr can't say Kitty didn't warn him. She is a terrible date. The bench proves a good idea as Kitty shifts on it, finding a sense of grounding with it beneath her. The grasp on her hands, the quiet confidence of the words, and the impassioned speech melt her defences. Twice her lips part as if she aims to say something, only to seal again, choosing to maintain silence instead.
With Piotr at eye-level, he can see hope reflect in her eyes. She squeezes his fingers in return while her eyes lock with his. Her eyebrows draw together slightly, and he can see a hint of apprehension. But indecisiveness meets impulsivity, and for once, the latter wins. Kitty leans forward, her eyes lidding lightly, to brush her lips gently against his. There's nothing quick about the movement, and little question about what she aims to do. As she moves, the faint smell of lavender follows her — a small bit of Jean's mother's perfume dabbed behind her ears gives ay to the calming scent.
*
Piotr meets her eyes steadily, patiently watching her reaction while she takes in his words. He's far too preoccupied with silent worry over his ability to articulate himself to even consider this would be the response he would get. It isn't until there are actually lips against his that he realizes that that's what she's doing.
For a heartbeat, Piotr is too surprised to respond. Then, his hands give hers a very gentle squeeze to reassure her that, no, she has by no means overstepped, and he lets his eyes drift closed, head tilting slightly into the kiss. As far as he is concerned, whatever comes next is entirely up to her.
*
The slow reciprocation causes Kitty's heart to pound in her chest. And the light brush of lips a silent response to the words spoken. There's a sweetness to the lightness, a shyness that follows despite the impulse. Even with the reassuring squeeze of her hands, her confidence has weak spots. So when the kiss breaks a few moments later, she carefully releases one of Piotr's hands and lifts it to his cheek. Her finger tips lightly graze his skin. "You don't need to be afraid of being away from the Institute," she whispers quietly, when the kiss breaks. Her cheeks flush light pink. "You have every right to be as much as anyone. And you are bright, kind, and," her eyes close gently, "good."
Her chin drops bashfully and she playfully notes, "I told you I'd be a worse date than you. I'm pretty sure I've already broken every rule in anyone's dating book."
*
It's a long moment after the kiss breaks before Piotr is willing to open his eyes. He tips his head forward just enough to lightly touch his forehead to hers, his lips twitching into an odd smile while her fingers brush his cheek.
"We are equally terrible, I think," Piotr says in a low, affectionate voice, his shoulders shaking with a quiet laugh. Slowly, he picks himself up just long enough to settle onto the bench next to her with a tired sigh, his eyes twinkling. "But that is a good thing. We complement each other."
*
"I refuse to believe that. No," Kitty declares, "I am the most terrible of the terribles," her lips quirk into playful grin, "And I will not believe otherwise." The last, however, earns easy agreement with a small hum in the back of her throat. Yes they complement each other.
She leans against him when he settles next to her, prompting her eyes to close lightly again. "Can we just stay here like this forever?" Her lips twitch into an easy smile. Despite the previously heavy conversation, she feels strangely light.
*
When she leans, Piotr shifts his arm up and over, curling it around her shoulders to welcome her weight. "Alright, alright. You are the most terrible," he relents with a longsuffering sigh. "But only just. Neck-and-neck." He sniffs.
Absently, Piotr tilts his head to let it lightly thump against the top of hers. The conversation was still definitely not on anyone's list of suggested topics for a first date, but somehow, he was feeling alarmingly content. "Police might shoo us home eventually," he muses, after a matching hum. "But that does sound very nice."