apachefirecat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apachefirecat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
halfamoon2024-02-14 10:15 pm
apachefirecat) wrote in halfamoon2024-02-14 10:15 pm
Day 14: Grace - X-Men - Wisdom/Pryde - Father's Daughter
Title: Father's Daughter
Fandom: X-Men/Excalibur
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Pete Wisdom/Shadowcat
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Pryde amazes Wisdom.
Word Count: 1,076
Written For: HalfAMoon Day 14: Grace, X-Men 15 12. Danger, 100Ships 46. Pearl, and 50Disney Fandoms 2024 #6
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
He loved to watch his woman dance. Wisdom grinned, cupping his rough hands around his cigarette as he lit it up. And dancing was exactly what Pryde was currently doing, with the heads of the bad guys as her floor. She was beautiful, graceful, smart, honestly everything he was not, and every day of his life he questioned how in the bloody Hell he'd ever gotten so lucky as to win her love. It had to be win, not earn, because he knew he could never earn to keep a woman like Kitty Pryde.
She was amazing! He leaned back against the car, watching as she knocked out the first four guys only to have them swiftly replaced by more. She didn't need his help, though. He could have easily fried a few, but he knew she'd had pent-up energy throughout their entire ride and needed this release. She sailed over their heads, gracefully tap-dancing their little brains into unconsciousness, before leaping off the last skull and landing smoothly, as graceful and powerful as a big cat, onto the pavement.
"You could've helped," she said, smirking at him and wiping pretend dirt off her hands.
"You enjoyed that," he said, grinning around his cigarette. "We both know it."
She didn't try to deny it. "I did," she admitted, her brown eyes almost laughing with mirth as they touched his. She scowled then, but he knew she was still jesting with him. "That is a disgusting habit, Pete Wisdom."
"You know you like it too." He tossed the fag to the ground and stomped it out, making sure to grind out the last ember of fire underneath his boot. It only took a spark to make a fire, after all, as he'd seen one too many times. He knew he was right, though, no matter how much Kitty chastised him about the unhealthy, odorous habit. She did like the scent of tobacco, and she liked that he was older, grizzled, smoked, and drank. For some odd reason, no doubt linked to her old man, she liked every bad habit he had -- or at least the ones of which she knew.
She was still making a face at him, but did not deny the accusation. "You're lucky I like you," she teased. She winked at him as he straightened back up.
He was lucky she liked him. He was still amazed by her admiration, and the only thing he could think to contribute it to was the fact that she must remind him of her dad. He knew girls often had a thing for their father figures, or at least men who reminded them of dear, old dad. He knew a lot of guys also coveted their mothers in such a way, but Kitty was no maternal figure. He'd never known a woman like her, and he'd known plenty of broads over the years. Of all the women he had known, though, of all those he had dated, slept with, worked with, fought against... None of them came anywhere close to being like Kitty. She paled them all in comparison in any way that mattered, from looks to brains, and most especially fighting skills. She was the total package, a proverbial pearl in an ocean of washed-up had-beens and dreamers.
He himself was both, he realized, and suddenly wished the flask in his pocket wasn't already empty. "Why do you like me?" he asked softly, his hands arching. They ached to reach for his whiskey, but it would just prove to her how unsure he was of their relationship. He loved this woman, but what she could ever see in him -- He had to stop smoking, he realized, or perhaps not stop smoking as she did actually like the habit she called gross, but he did have to somehow become a better man. He wanted this woman beside him for the rest of his days; he had to find a way to become a man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her days.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, leaning forward and kissing him. Pulling back, she was stunned by the expression on his handsome, grizzled face. "Pete," she frowned, "what is it?" She never called him Pete, and he knew instantly that she was genuinely concerned -- and that she suspected something was very much wrong.
"Nothing," he muttered, digging his empty hands into the deep pockets of his trench. She frowned at him, and he pretended to relent. "I'm out of whiskey, or I would've toasted your fight just now. You make danger look like a dance floor." He knew it was lame, but she smiled nonetheless. The way her cheeks flushed in the cold, Scotland air made him think perhaps she really did like the sentiment, but knowing how lame he had sounded, he pushed pass her and headed toward the pub.
Then he thought back over the fight, and the thoughts that had ran through his head while he had watched her graceful dance and asked softly, despite already regretting his query, "What was your dad like, Pryde?"
He could hear her warm smile and near chuckle in her voice as she answered without missing a beat, "I didn't learn that from my dad. At least, not my real dad. Wolverine taught me that. My folks were always... " He was gazing at her intently now, curious to learn more about this amazing woman beside him, but she looked away. She bit her bottom lip, a nervous tell he'd noticed she had shortly after they'd first met. "They were always too busy fighting to care much about what happened to me." She shrugged. "I've been with the X-Men since I was fourteen." She pushed pass him this time, moving on into the pub.
Wisdom braced suddenly against the doorframe. So the legendary Wolverine was this girl's dad! Bloody Hell, he hit it big, but he could never compare, not to Wolverine! He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling weak-kneed. He definitely wanted that drink now! But then, that was something he had going for him at least, he thought! He already drank and smoked like her old man. That's why she liked those aromas so much. Grinning, Wisdom headed after the woman who had completely captivated his attention. He was going to order the hardest, bloody thing they had on the menu! He couldn't hope to outfight Wolverine, but maybe he could outdrink him!
The End
Fandom: X-Men/Excalibur
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Pete Wisdom/Shadowcat
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Pryde amazes Wisdom.
Word Count: 1,076
Written For: HalfAMoon Day 14: Grace, X-Men 15 12. Danger, 100Ships 46. Pearl, and 50
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
He loved to watch his woman dance. Wisdom grinned, cupping his rough hands around his cigarette as he lit it up. And dancing was exactly what Pryde was currently doing, with the heads of the bad guys as her floor. She was beautiful, graceful, smart, honestly everything he was not, and every day of his life he questioned how in the bloody Hell he'd ever gotten so lucky as to win her love. It had to be win, not earn, because he knew he could never earn to keep a woman like Kitty Pryde.
She was amazing! He leaned back against the car, watching as she knocked out the first four guys only to have them swiftly replaced by more. She didn't need his help, though. He could have easily fried a few, but he knew she'd had pent-up energy throughout their entire ride and needed this release. She sailed over their heads, gracefully tap-dancing their little brains into unconsciousness, before leaping off the last skull and landing smoothly, as graceful and powerful as a big cat, onto the pavement.
"You could've helped," she said, smirking at him and wiping pretend dirt off her hands.
"You enjoyed that," he said, grinning around his cigarette. "We both know it."
She didn't try to deny it. "I did," she admitted, her brown eyes almost laughing with mirth as they touched his. She scowled then, but he knew she was still jesting with him. "That is a disgusting habit, Pete Wisdom."
"You know you like it too." He tossed the fag to the ground and stomped it out, making sure to grind out the last ember of fire underneath his boot. It only took a spark to make a fire, after all, as he'd seen one too many times. He knew he was right, though, no matter how much Kitty chastised him about the unhealthy, odorous habit. She did like the scent of tobacco, and she liked that he was older, grizzled, smoked, and drank. For some odd reason, no doubt linked to her old man, she liked every bad habit he had -- or at least the ones of which she knew.
She was still making a face at him, but did not deny the accusation. "You're lucky I like you," she teased. She winked at him as he straightened back up.
He was lucky she liked him. He was still amazed by her admiration, and the only thing he could think to contribute it to was the fact that she must remind him of her dad. He knew girls often had a thing for their father figures, or at least men who reminded them of dear, old dad. He knew a lot of guys also coveted their mothers in such a way, but Kitty was no maternal figure. He'd never known a woman like her, and he'd known plenty of broads over the years. Of all the women he had known, though, of all those he had dated, slept with, worked with, fought against... None of them came anywhere close to being like Kitty. She paled them all in comparison in any way that mattered, from looks to brains, and most especially fighting skills. She was the total package, a proverbial pearl in an ocean of washed-up had-beens and dreamers.
He himself was both, he realized, and suddenly wished the flask in his pocket wasn't already empty. "Why do you like me?" he asked softly, his hands arching. They ached to reach for his whiskey, but it would just prove to her how unsure he was of their relationship. He loved this woman, but what she could ever see in him -- He had to stop smoking, he realized, or perhaps not stop smoking as she did actually like the habit she called gross, but he did have to somehow become a better man. He wanted this woman beside him for the rest of his days; he had to find a way to become a man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her days.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, leaning forward and kissing him. Pulling back, she was stunned by the expression on his handsome, grizzled face. "Pete," she frowned, "what is it?" She never called him Pete, and he knew instantly that she was genuinely concerned -- and that she suspected something was very much wrong.
"Nothing," he muttered, digging his empty hands into the deep pockets of his trench. She frowned at him, and he pretended to relent. "I'm out of whiskey, or I would've toasted your fight just now. You make danger look like a dance floor." He knew it was lame, but she smiled nonetheless. The way her cheeks flushed in the cold, Scotland air made him think perhaps she really did like the sentiment, but knowing how lame he had sounded, he pushed pass her and headed toward the pub.
Then he thought back over the fight, and the thoughts that had ran through his head while he had watched her graceful dance and asked softly, despite already regretting his query, "What was your dad like, Pryde?"
He could hear her warm smile and near chuckle in her voice as she answered without missing a beat, "I didn't learn that from my dad. At least, not my real dad. Wolverine taught me that. My folks were always... " He was gazing at her intently now, curious to learn more about this amazing woman beside him, but she looked away. She bit her bottom lip, a nervous tell he'd noticed she had shortly after they'd first met. "They were always too busy fighting to care much about what happened to me." She shrugged. "I've been with the X-Men since I was fourteen." She pushed pass him this time, moving on into the pub.
Wisdom braced suddenly against the doorframe. So the legendary Wolverine was this girl's dad! Bloody Hell, he hit it big, but he could never compare, not to Wolverine! He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling weak-kneed. He definitely wanted that drink now! But then, that was something he had going for him at least, he thought! He already drank and smoked like her old man. That's why she liked those aromas so much. Grinning, Wisdom headed after the woman who had completely captivated his attention. He was going to order the hardest, bloody thing they had on the menu! He couldn't hope to outfight Wolverine, but maybe he could outdrink him!
The End