xp_logs | Kyle and Forge

x-wildchild.livejournal.com posting in

Forge picks Kyle up from the airport with a sign. Yay signs. And they talk about the new year and the old year and vow to not be life's bitch in 2007.

Why a plane leaving from Bozeman, Montana had to go through Denver and then Texas to make it to New York puzzled Forge. But then again, growing up around the aeronautics industry, he'd become well aware of the lunacy in the scheduling of major airlines and their nonsensical flight paths.

But, he figured, at least they were flying on time. Or rather, at least Kyle's flight was on time, unlike apparently every other post-holiday flight into JFK, as proven by the massive crowd of people waiting at the debarkment gate. Surrounded by people taller and much wider than himself, Forge would have worried about Kyle finding him in the melee.

Except that he'd thought ahead for such a contingency, and brought a sign.

A big, pink, neon sign. With "GIBNEY" in flashing letters. Held up on an eight-foot pole.

"Dude, I want that for my room." The advantage of the crowd being as thick as it was meant Kyle got to sneak through and come up behind Forge. The sign was a little hard to miss. From space. Jupiter, even.

"It's a bit more subtle than the traditional methods of marking your territory," Forge said after a momentary startle at Kyle's sudden appearance. Powering down the flashing sign, he collapsed the pole and folded the set of light tubes into a book-sized bundle, slipping it into one of his many voluminous coat pockets. "So how were the holidays in the land of 'Christmas is Bad, mmkay'?"

"Hey. I have totally never marked my territory by peeing on -anything-." Kyle protested, blissfully unaware of the looks he got from the people around him. "It was ... pretty not bad, actually. Stayed with the grandparents so, you know, actually having a Christmas. Got some loot, got yelled at for not calling enough." He shrugged. "And my folks actually were decent, so even that wasn't totally the suck."

Forge nodded as they marched past the baggage claim, timing their approach perfectly to snatch Kyle's duffle bag off the conveyor belt without missing a step towards the exit. "Yeah, it was surprisingly quiet here, thankfully. My parents showed up at random and took me out ice skating at Rockefeller Center. The less said about that the better. In a tuxedo, even." He stepped out into the frigid December air, sliding his sunglasses on to block out the glare of the sun through the slowly-falling snow. "God, this has been one hell of a year, hasn't it? Come on, I'm parked in the hourly lot. Took the good car, even."

"No explosions or crap?" Kyle said. "Yeah. 2006 can end any day now. Year of handing Kyle's ass to him can be over, please." He swung the duffle around in front of him and opened it once they got to the car. "My grandmom made you bread, by the way." He said, pulling out two only slightly squashed wrapped packages. "I swear, next year I'm bringing an extra duffle just for food."

"Food is always welcome," Forge said, catching one of the loaves and smelling it. "Ooh, banana walnut. Your grandmother rocks. And yes, this was the year of beating on Kyle. Gravity manipulators, crazy deformed fleshcrafters, Toad, dude. You got owned by Toad."

Kyle snorted loudly. "Yeah, I know. But dude, the dude kicks -hard-. And..." He shuddered, skin crawling just thinking about it. "He has that -tongue- and God, that's grossing me out totally thinking about it can we totally not talk about Toad ever again?" Not to mention the smell.

Laughing, Forge got in the car and fired up the engine, watching the thin coating of snow almost steam off the hood immediately. "Oh, I'm no fan of the little turd," he agreed, rubbing his right eyebrow and wincing in memory. "Guy ripped out my eyebrow ring back when, well, y'know. But yeah, the habit of you being life's punching bag is getting kinda old. With all the wackos and, well... Jay."

Oh, he was not talking about Jay. That was his own damn fault, but it didn't mean he had to actually discuss it. Kyle had enough of that with Doc Sampson. "I swear, I ever get the chance, I'm wrapping that tongue around his head and tying a bow. I don't care how gross it is." Kyle shrugged. "I figure, better me than you guys. At least I heal from a beating, right?"

"Still doesn't mean you need to go seeking one out," Forge quipped, merging onto the highway and watching the speedometer needle move clockwise steadily as he accelerated, weaving calmly through slower traffic. "I mean, I suppose as much as you got beat up by half the psychos that came out of the woodwork this year, I did as bad a number on myself. Being all emo over Jay and Catseye leaving, stressing over work and my studies and then the whole..." He wasn't exactly sure how to phrase "Jennie getting kidnapped off to Europe by Marius" without violating someone's privacy. "...well, folks taking extended vacations. It was not the proudest year for my understandably stretched coping skills."

Blowing by a tractor trailer in the passing lane, Forge calmly upshifted and swerved smoothly onto another interchange, letting inertia carry the sports car through a cloverleaf and onto the highway towards Westchester County. "Resolution idea - to not be life's bitch in 2007."

Kyle stretched out in the passenger seat, enjoying being -able- to do so, after many hours in cramped airplanes. The Clarice Express was a far more comfortable way to travel, but with 'rice away at school most of the time and training for the X-men the other most of the time, he wasn't about to bug her. "I totally agree. No more being anyone's monkeyboy."

"And speaking of monkey," Forge said with a grin, "you do know Angel has photographic proof you wore a tie, right? I don't know if that's more or less humiliating than the photos in women's underwear."

"Hey. I wear ties." Kyle protested. "I own two, and Laurie said that one was better than the other one. And I know it didn't look ass, because she tied it." He shrugged. "If Angel's taking pictures I'm not gonna stop her. Sides, it'll get my grandmom off my back about how I never send her nice pictures, they're always of me in a tree or something."

Forge managed not to hit the accelerator harder at the mention of Laurie, mentally scolding himself with a that's right, that was technically Kyle's date you were kissing in the hall, dork. "See, all my grandparents ever complain about is that I'm not going into law like my mom did. Oh, and speaking of dance type stuff - New Years', Silver. You know, Mark's club. Oh, right. Mark. New guy, receptionist over at Snow Valley. Bit of a fruitcake, but he's hooked us up with a fundraiser for HeliX for the party. All-ages stuff, totally mutant-friendly. You're coming, right?"

"Dude. Breathing between words, please." Kyle said. "You're the only person I know who speaks without periods and just has vocal commas. I was thinking about it. It's mutant friendly like nobody's gonna give me shit over no shoes and all?" He asked, almost thinking out loud. "Because if it's that mutant friendly, man, why haven't we been doing stuff before there? Or is it totally like, normally eighteen and up? Because that bites if it is."

Forge thought for a moment about what he'd heard of Silver, then shook his head. "Normally it's, uh... okay, if you met Mark you'd understand. Imagine Clarice as a guy, but with a little less spaz and a touch more... flamboyance."

Kyle went wide-eyed trying to imagine that, and snickered. "So, he's, oh, man, Jay would've described him as fabulous, right?" So much for not talking much about Jay, but this was more or less okay. "Dude, I'll be there, but I get glittered by guy-Clarice and I'm blaming you. I do not do glitter."

Forge laughed, making a quick mental note: devise magnetic glitter-repellent field just in case. As the road opened up ahead, he shifted once more, watching the RPMs jump as he reached over to hit the stereo's volume control. "I make no promises," he said with a smile, "except that next year's gotta be better than this one. Deal?"

"Sure as hell can't be worse." Kyle agreed.