FicWad

“So, wait, what do you want?” Kitty asked, looking at the group arrayed on her door step. She'd been doing homework all afternoon, and talking to her parents some more. Betsy was no where in sight, and Kitty was beginning to believe that she might have missed dinner because of her CS assignment and Calc homework.

Jean smiled back, as Scott looked uncertain, and John and Kurt nodded enthusiastically, although nothing had been said. Jean stepped forward, with her hand outstretched. “It's just like I told your parents on the phone. We're watching this movie Betsy has, and we thought you'd like to join us. Especially after the craziness of today.”

“I still want to watch Mirrormask,” John complained.

“Well, we're watching Bond, instead,” Scott replied.

“The real old fashioned, Sean Connery Bond?” Kitty asked enthusiastically.

“Actually, it's the new Casino Royal,” Jean replied with a shrug. “I've never seen it, but Betsy likes it.”

“Well, if it's not Sean Connery,” Kitty began, but Kurt jumped in beside her.

“C'mon, please, Kitty? There'll be cookies, and chips, and popcorn, and brownies. Betsy locked Piotr in our kitchen at four this afternoon, and he hasn't been seen since.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” Kitty said, imagining tall hunky Russians looming grandly over kitchen stoves. He would probably look just adorable in oven mitts. She colored at the thought of Piotr in just oven mitts, which was, with the help of a tastefully placed imaginary tea-cart, adorable.

“So, you're coming?” Scott asked, looking at his watch. “I don't want to be a stick in the mud, but--,”

“Well, you are a stick in the mud,” Jean teased, taking Kitty by the hand.

The group surrounded Kitty, and hustled her towards the stairs. John and Kurt kept blocking everyone by bowing, and insisting that the other go first.

“Guys, there's a time and a place,” Scott exclaimed in annoyance, as he checked his watch once more, in case time had speeded up in the three minutes spent coaxing Kitty to come. He didn't want to miss the opening of the movie. There might be cool explosions.

“Yeah, sure,” John sighed. “So, Sergeant Summer, why're you wearing sunglasses at night, again?”

“High beams when I'm driving,” Scott replied straight faced, as they continued along the corridor. “I know it's a safety hazard, but it's easier than being actually blinded. Also, most people like to watch movies with the lights off.”

“You were diagnosed as legally blind when you were a kid, weren't you?” Jean asked.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “My vision's actually improved as I've grown up, but I'm still super light sensitive. It kinda sucks, too. I wanted to be in the air force when I grew up. That's not going to happen, I guess. I'm not even certain I can get a pilot's license.”

“It'd be cool to learn how to fly,” Kurt agreed, putting his hand up to catch the air, as they began to descend the main staircase.

John just stored the information away in his brain. It seemed rather depressing to know that Scott actually had a reason for his glasses. Especially since he, John, had been making fun of them to Rogue's gang. If it had just been an affectation -- well, now it turned out that it was something that might prevent Scott from doing what he wanted to do with his future. Making fun of that just seemed mean. Maybe in their story, John and Rogue could make their Scott Summers a super crack pilot.

“So, Kitty,” Kurt was saying, as they turned toward the living room, “you have any favorite movies?”

“Well, I like Ten Things I Hate about You, and She's All That. The high school they used for that one was the same set for the Buffy high school, did you know?” Kitty said.

“I love Joss Whedon,” Scott said, making the group stop in their tracks. “What?”

“Dude,” Kurt replied, “that's something a girl would say.”

“Mind bleach is necessary for this conversation to continue, mate,” John agreed.

“Really mature,” Scott replied. “Seriously, Whedon writes really well. And he seems to believe in the innocence of childhood. I don't know, but his stories, are, well, look, I can really empathize with Xander, and Firefly was amazing. His stories are good because, well, I mean, the good always prevails over the big bad. The guy will get the girl -- most of the time. Heck, the girl gets the girl. It's like a fairy tale that actually seems like it could happen.”

“Vampires aren't real,” Jean replied pointedly.

“And you are sooooo not Xander,” Kitty replied, rolling her eyes. “For one thing you're actually clean shaven. For another you're competent. And he's not cute, while visually you're pretty cute.”

“Now I don't agree with that,” Jean replied, while Scott's cheeks colored. “Cute also accounts in personality, and Xander is as cute as Willow in a childish way. But I have to say--,”

“Wait, how do you even know about Buffy?” Kitty cut in.

“It was completely banned TV watching in my house growing up,” Jean replied. “Of course me and my sister snuck over to friends' houses to see it. How do you think I know about it?”

“Why?” Scott asked. “You're parents weren't super religious or anything, were they? My family is very religious, but they didn't ban Buffy of all things.”

“I'm surprised,” John chirped. “My dad would have beaten me with a stick if he'd known I watched anything as unmanly as that.”

“How do you know it's unmanly?” Scott defended. “Did it even air in Australia?”

“Well, I don't know, I never really watched TV,” John began.

“Hulu, season one. Watch it,” Scott ordered.

“Did I just hear Sergeant Summers advocating something unmanly?” Betsy asked, looking around the door of the living room. “I haven't seen Britney eith--,”
“It's Buffy, and you need to watch it,” Scott cut in. “You've seen Firefly, haven't you? That should tell you why you need to watch it.”

“Okay,” Besty said, a little confused at Scott's intensity. “So, anyway, Russian brownies taste really good. But that might just be the vodka talking.”

“Don't be silly,” Piotr yelled from the couch, as the group trooped into the room. “You can't taste vodka. It's the schnapps talking.”

“You know, I'm not sure those kinds of racial jokes are very funny,” Jean began.

“Oh do relax,” Betsy waved her away. “If it's Piotr who makes the Russian jokes, well, he's Russian, isn't he?”

“I still don't think it's very nice,” Jean commented.

“Good grief,” Betsy sighed. “I'm sorry for not being politically correct, all the time. Jeeze. You don't have to make everything into one of the Saturday lectures on humans rights, and whatever else the Professor wants us to know.”

“But it's not politically correct,” Jean replied. “It's just, it's not a good idea to generalize a whole group as drunks.”

“But we have to create stereotypes to classify people at some level,” Kitty cut in. “Otherwise our brains will explode.”

“As I said to Betsy, this isn't one of the Saturday lectures,” Jean replied, exasperated. “This isn't some academic theory, it's just not nice, or really all that funny to make jokes like that.”

“Guys, interesting as this is, I'd kinda like to start the movie,” Kurt said, sitting down on the couch with the whole popcorn bowl in one hand.

“Betcha can't eat popcorn upside down,” John dared, sitting next to him, and thinking about hiccups.

“Oh yes, I can,” Kurt stuck his tongue out, and then began shifting in his seat.

“Hey, there's not enough room for me,” Kitty complained, seeing the couch, with the best angle to the TV already had three large boys on it.

“There will be if I sit in Piotr's lap,” John promised gallantly.

Piotr looked at him. “I shall, how do you say, politely refuse.”

“You can sit in my lap schatzchein,” Kurt replied, waving a leg in the air. “Hey, my boxers are green today.”

“No, dear heart, you still have the popcorn to finish,” John protested. “But perhaps we could dance at the next school get together.”

“Oh, could we? I heard it was next Friday.”

Scott hurriedly put the DVD in the DVD player. “Guys, do you have to do that? It's really awkward making.”

“Where's the man defending Joss Whedon and true love now?” Kurt mocked.

“Willow and Tara don't make me super uncomfortable and they don't live right next door,” Scott replied. “Look, just because I think people should, you know, date the people they like, doesn't mean I'm ready for the reality, okay?”

“But Scott, you're what the gay community has been waiting for,” Jean laughed.

Scott's face stilled, and then he went to sit in one of the far chairs.

“I don't think that was very nice, Jean,” Betsy mocked, plopping down on the floor.

“How about I just sit on Piotr's lap, then?” Kitty suggested coyly, as the play menu appeared.

Piotr went very still, and then hurriedly stuffed a brownie in his mouth. His reply was noncommittally indistinct.

Betsy hunted for the remote and pressed play, as Kitty slid into the empty lap. “Fine by me, but if we hear any kissy kissy noises, we're telling your parents.”

“Shut up,” Kitty replied, and then took her own advice as the movie started.