That, and Ultimate has Quicksilver in it, who is still a decent cutie and an interesting character ("Isn't it about time you stood up to your freakin' dad for once in your life anyway, you little snot?"- Scott to Pietro). And Ultimate Scott is still ok. I have yet to read any of the comics where Scott is an asshole. Zero really can't stand his character, but I have yet to actually mind it straight out. Sometimes he's a little annoying, but overall not so bad. What's really annoying is that, in the book I have, there is no character development for Bobby. He just kinda shows up and... is.
Whatever. Babble, babble. Here's the damn story and it probably makes no sense. It's Evo universe, 'cause that's the only one I'm even vaguely familiar with. Lala...
The night was a black velvet mask, stained with rain like teardrops, skeleton tree branches reaching into the darkness and clutching nothingness in their claws. The stars were diamonds scattered in a pool of murky India ink, only vaguely illuminating the abyss of after-hours sadness. Scott Summers stood at his window, warm and dry, and stared blankly at the street below. It was a night for mourning. It was a night when, perhaps, runaways came home.
The boy fidgeted with the sleeves of his t-shirt, pausing idly to read the logo on the front chest pocket. Slippery Rock University, Slippery Rock PA. With his index finger, he pushed the frames of his dark glasses up and held them there a moment to be sure they would stay.
The light of his room was a bright yellow glow, a beacon in the sea of the world. He was worried, beginning to get really worried. Two days and counting and still no sign of Kurt. His worry was passing that of fraternal concern; he was feeling fear deep in the pit of his belly for the other boy.
“Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you,” Scott hummed gently under his breath, fists gripping the windowsill tightly. The song seemed strangely fitting for the occasion; he repeated the phrase. “Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you… c’mon, Kurt. Just come home.”
There came no answer to his plea, just the steady pitter-pat of a light rain. Water ran down the window glass in tiny rivers that constantly changed their course. He watched momentarily fascinated. He watched the moon. He watched the street.
All was still and quiet.
With a small sigh and a final glance out the window, Scott turned to his bed and turned down the immaculately cleaned and pressed sheets. He was about to slide between them when-
THUMP. It sounded like something hitting the side of the house. Scott whirled around to face the window. There was only blackness. And then-
THUMP. Another heavy smack, this time against the glass, was accompanied by a voice with a distinct German accent. “Hey, can I get a little help here?”
“Kurt?” Scott’s defensive posture fell for a moment as he raced frantically to the windowsill. “Kurt, is that you?”
“Ja, ja… who did you think it was? Now let me in; it’s freezing out here!” Scott could see the pads of the younger boy’s unique fingers pressed against the glass but nothing more; his blue skin and black cloak blended in well with the dark scenery. With a grunt, he hit the heel of his hand on the old window’s rusty lock. The piece of metal sprang from its resting place, and Scott wrenched open the window with ease.
A damp Kurt tumbled awkwardly into Scott’s room, gangly limbs splayed comically. Before he could fall to the floor, however, he was in Scott’s arms, head curled protectively in the crook of the taller boy’s arm. For a moment, all was still as embarrassment sank in. Finally, Kurt broke the silence. “Thanks man. Way to watch out for my tail, there.”
Scott blushed, partially because of the compliment he’d been paid, but also because he was cuddling, however incidentally, with the younger mutant. Carefully, he lowered Kurt to the floor, taking care not to let his hands linger too noticeably on the other’s shoulders.
“Ugh, sorry I got you all wet,” Kurt apologized, referring to Scott’s now-soggy t-shirt.
“Hmm?” Scott hadn’t even noticed.
“Your shirt,” Kurt pointed, a little unnerved by Scott’s oblivious moment, “Got it wet. It’s raining outside.”
“Oh,” Scott stared blankly for a moment before turning his attention back to the other boy, “Oh, right. Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s just good that you’re back.”
“Uh-huh,” Kurt’s voice was doubtful, “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“No, no…” Scott assured after a moment’s thought. “No, it’s ok, you didn’t…” He ran tense fingers through his short brown hair, taking a second to collect the jumble that was currently serving as his short-term memory. “Well, look. Let me go get the Professor and we can let everyone know you’re back, all right?” He turned to head for his bedroom door, but Kurt caught him by the sleeve of his shirt.
“Wait! Scott… I don’t think… I don’t really want to be back yet.” Kurt’s eyes were huge, pleading with the elder boy. “Please? I just… I just want a little more time.” Kurt’s fingers stayed hooked onto the hem of Scott’s sleeve, pulling him closer and closer until Scott could feel warm breath tickling his neck.
“Sure,” Scott pulled away hurriedly, confused about the effects the bodily closeness was having on him, “Sure, sure, no problem.” He left Kurt standing, uncomfortably in the middle of his room while he went and shut the open window. “Sure, sure, sure,” He busied himself in his closet, picking out an old towel and tossing it to Kurt. “Here, dry off.” He also grabbed an old t-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants, tossing them down on the bed. “For you to change into,” he explained as he sat next to the clothing.
Kurt nodded as he toweled his dripping hair. “Thanks.” After sucked as much moisture as he could out of the dark waves, he tossed the towel to Scott and peeled off his dark cloak. It dripped noticeably on the carpet and he grimaced; Scott didn’t seem nearly so concerned.
“Here,” He took the cloak and handed back the towel, “We can dry your stuff out on the radiator.” Scott stalked speedily, cloak in hand, over to the old-fashioned, protruding white grate of the heater. Mutely, he tossed the drenched cloth over the rungs.
Kurt shrugged. “Ok.” He tossed the towel on the bed and stripped off the thin, white t-shirt he’d had on underneath, lifting his head, closing his eyes, and extending his belly.
Scott swallowed. Hard. No, this wasn’t fraternal love. It was more… carnal. More disgusting. He wondered idly how Kurt could be so casual about it. And then he realized that Kurt would never think of Scott as anything more or less than heterosexual. He’d never worry about his body being arousing while he was around Scott because it just wasn’t possible.
Kurt’s hands went to the belt of his loose khaki pants. As he undid the buckle, Scott closed his eyes and tried to think about Jean. About Jean’s body, and the way she always wore too small, too tight t-shirts to accentuate her full breasts and tiny tummy. He thought about her feminine hips, and long, silky hair. He thought about the way she smelled when they were close.
His mind instantly departed that train of thought and brought back the cool smell of rain and dankness that Kurt had brought with him. A more earthy smell than Jean’s floral fragrances. More masculine, but not by much. Kurt hadn’t quite reached the age where masculinity was of any importance. His body was still thin and lithe like a girl half his age, his shoulders and waist only just starting to fill out and distinguish him from females. And his hair was long, shoulder-length and somewhat limper than Jean’s full head of red hair. But it was still soft, soft and wavy and a gorgeous raven-black that contrasted with the blue fur that covered the rest of his mutated body.
It was a losing battle. “Where’d you go, Kurt?” Scott whispered before opening his eyes and turning back toward the object of his adolescent lust.
And... yes. They will fuck, eventually. ^_^;;