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eliyesTitle: Kith
Summary: Prior to M-day, a huge number of people were collecting in Westchester -- and relationships among mutants and their kin are like an enormously tangled 4D web. There were a lot of stories that could have been told, but weren't. Here is a piece of one of them.
James Proudstar -- Jimmy, to his friends -- tossed his empty duffle on the trunk at the foot of his bed. Well, 'his' bed; he'd been assigned a room when he showed up at the Institute, but it wasn't his space, yet. He appreciated the reinforced furniture and double-wide doors, and wondered how many 'rooms for irrationally big, really strong guys' Xavier had in this place. One for every mutant that fit the description? Even the attached bathroom was customized, with stainless steel fixtures and a showerhead he could adjust so it wasn't hitting him midchest.
He wasn't complaining, but he was so used to adjusting that it seemed weird, for example, to not have to bend in half just to wash his hands, or duck the door lintels and light fixtures. He didn't want to get out of the habit and bean himself in some less-accommodating room.
Jimmy became aware of someone even more massive and bulky than himself blocking the hall door. He turned, hands busy refastening his favourite choker.
"Hey," said the Juggernaut.
Jimmy blinked.
"Cain. Hi." Jimmy stepped forward and extended his hand. "No one told me you were here."
Cain Marko snorted, but accepted the offered handshake readily enough. "Surprised they didn't warn ya," he said, not really joking, mouth twisted sardonically.
"Probably just haven't gotten around to it yet," Jimmy deadpanned back.
Cain nodded at the truth of that, blew out a breath, and in a strangely flat voice told Jimmy, "Black Tom's dead."
"My condolences," Jimmy replied, meaning it. It was a peculiar honour for Cain to tell him even that much, trusting Jimmy to understand, at least in part, the grief and conflicted, unwanted relief that the loss of Cain's difficult partner had caused. They locked eyes for a moment, until Cain nodded again.
"Thanks," he said in a quiet rumble. "I miss the crazy bastard." Cain looked down, scratched his nose, and shrugged one massive shoulder before continuing in a more normal tone, "Anyways, I got to thinkin', an' I decided to come give this brother thing with Charlie another shot."
"I'm glad to hear it, I think," Jimmy said, mindful of his own brother, now only reachable in spirit. "I wish you luck. It's a two-man job."
Unexpectedly, Cain grinned. "You ain't half kiddin'!" He slapped Jimmy on the bicep -- lightly, but it still rocked him -- and said, "C'mon, kid, I'll introduce you to the only cook who don't faint at the sight o' growin' boys like us bearin' down on the kitchen with hungry looks."
"'Preciate it," Jimmy replied with a chuckle, and followed him into the hall.
This stay might be more interesting than he'd anticipated.
.
Summary: Prior to M-day, a huge number of people were collecting in Westchester -- and relationships among mutants and their kin are like an enormously tangled 4D web. There were a lot of stories that could have been told, but weren't. Here is a piece of one of them.
James Proudstar -- Jimmy, to his friends -- tossed his empty duffle on the trunk at the foot of his bed. Well, 'his' bed; he'd been assigned a room when he showed up at the Institute, but it wasn't his space, yet. He appreciated the reinforced furniture and double-wide doors, and wondered how many 'rooms for irrationally big, really strong guys' Xavier had in this place. One for every mutant that fit the description? Even the attached bathroom was customized, with stainless steel fixtures and a showerhead he could adjust so it wasn't hitting him midchest.
He wasn't complaining, but he was so used to adjusting that it seemed weird, for example, to not have to bend in half just to wash his hands, or duck the door lintels and light fixtures. He didn't want to get out of the habit and bean himself in some less-accommodating room.
Jimmy became aware of someone even more massive and bulky than himself blocking the hall door. He turned, hands busy refastening his favourite choker.
"Hey," said the Juggernaut.
Jimmy blinked.
"Cain. Hi." Jimmy stepped forward and extended his hand. "No one told me you were here."
Cain Marko snorted, but accepted the offered handshake readily enough. "Surprised they didn't warn ya," he said, not really joking, mouth twisted sardonically.
"Probably just haven't gotten around to it yet," Jimmy deadpanned back.
Cain nodded at the truth of that, blew out a breath, and in a strangely flat voice told Jimmy, "Black Tom's dead."
"My condolences," Jimmy replied, meaning it. It was a peculiar honour for Cain to tell him even that much, trusting Jimmy to understand, at least in part, the grief and conflicted, unwanted relief that the loss of Cain's difficult partner had caused. They locked eyes for a moment, until Cain nodded again.
"Thanks," he said in a quiet rumble. "I miss the crazy bastard." Cain looked down, scratched his nose, and shrugged one massive shoulder before continuing in a more normal tone, "Anyways, I got to thinkin', an' I decided to come give this brother thing with Charlie another shot."
"I'm glad to hear it, I think," Jimmy said, mindful of his own brother, now only reachable in spirit. "I wish you luck. It's a two-man job."
Unexpectedly, Cain grinned. "You ain't half kiddin'!" He slapped Jimmy on the bicep -- lightly, but it still rocked him -- and said, "C'mon, kid, I'll introduce you to the only cook who don't faint at the sight o' growin' boys like us bearin' down on the kitchen with hungry looks."
"'Preciate it," Jimmy replied with a chuckle, and followed him into the hall.
This stay might be more interesting than he'd anticipated.
.