Matt and Frank: Sparring lessons (Backdated)

[x-pinnochio.livejournal.com]

In which Matt agrees to teach Frank self-defence. Eventually.

"Hey, Frank!" Matt caught up to the guy in the hallway as they headed to the kitchen, "Sorry about the journals. I didn't mean to surprise you like that," he had assumed one of the other students, Clint maybe, had told him about Matt and drugs. Apparently not.

Frank jumped, a little startled, as Matt came up behinds him. The tension didn't quite dissipate when he saw who'd called his name. He masked his discomfort as well as he could. "It's all good, man. Just didn't see it coming, is all. You seem so..." normal. Responsible. Not a crazy drug addict. "...chill, I guess."

Matt shrugged, "What did you expect an addict to look like?" There were lots of reasons people turned to drugs and lots of things to be addicted to. He could almost feel Frank's discomfort in the tension of his shoulders and the tightness of his voice, "Let's go grab a snack," he suggested.

There was the slightest of pauses before Frank nodded in agreement. To anyone else, it might not have registered at all. But this was Matt, and everything registered with Matt, and Frank cursed himself for it. "Sure," he said. "Why not. Been meaning to talk to you anyway."

For all that Matt received from his senses, he could and did miss things for a lot of reasons. "Yeah? Sup?" He wondered if there were any more lemon bars left in the kitchen. That sounded good.

"Kinda have a favour to ask," said Frank, taking the lead as they headed towards to kitchen. "You're pretty good at the self-defense stuff, right?"

"Reasonably," Matt agreed. He'd been taking it for a while and had used it on occasion. He went to wash his hands first before he began to rummage through the fridge and pantry touching everything.

Frank relaxed a little. This was more familiar ground. "Well, I was wondering if maybe you could help me pick it up a little faster? Like, one to one lessons? I figured you'd know more about this then me."

"That's not a good idea," he found the lemon bars and brought several on a plate to the table, "I'm not a good teacher for that stuff," Matt added. "Why're you so concerned about self defense?"

"I'm not concerned, exactly," said Frank, slowly. "It's more... I don't know. It just seems like bad stuff's gonna happen to us, one way or another, right? So maybe I should be prepared for it. I'd rather it was you then Mister Logan or Callisto or someone," he added. "They're cool, but you're not quite as gut-fuckingly scary."

Logan was scary? Huh. Now Matt was curious what he looked like. He was gruff, sure, but he gave good advice and listened well. "That's life, Frank," Matt said, pushing the plate of lemon bars towards the other teen, "It's a big bad world out there and that sucks, but...." he trailed off, "Learning to defend yourself won't make it less scary. And it doesn't mean you'll be able to act when you have to either. It helps, absolutely. I just...I dunno. Don't force these things."

"I'm not forcing it," said Frank, a little heatedly, before stopping himself. "It's not- I'm trying to be prepared, Matt. That's all. I'm not afraid of this. I'm not afraid of anything. It just... comes with the territory, you know? We have fucked up lives."

"Because we're mutants?"Matt asked, "Because that's what I'm hearing. And we don't have fucked up lives because we're mutants. We have fucked up lives because we're living!" His life had been pretty fucked up well before coming to Xavier's after all. "Tell me about your home. Your parents. Whatever."

Frank froze. "What do they have to do with anything?" He asked, voice abrupt and tone distinctly unwelcoming. "Look, you don't want to teach me, fine. A simple "No" would have done."

There was a long, unpleasant silence.

"...You can't pretend like things aren't worse for us then they are for other people, Matt. You can't."

"I'm not saying that," Matt agreed. "I'm saying they're the same suck for other people." He sighed and pushed his hair out of his face with a hand absently, "Frank, everyone has issues and everyone deals with them differently. Yeah, I'll work with you this summer if you want to do some extra self-defense stuff, but I don't want you scared just because you're a mutant. Shit happens whether you're a mutant or not." That really wasn't the most reassuring thing now, was it? Crap. He sucked at this.

"Oh, believe me, I know," said Frank, grimly. "I've had my share of shit, Matt. It's not a new development. This is a new kind of shit I have to deal with now. People want to hurt me, want me dead, because I'm- what I am. I can't just pretend like I can handle this the way I handled things before." He stared at Matt, daring him to argue. "It's different. It is."

Maybe that was was the difference, he didn't see it as different. "Alright," he nodded slowly. He had to admit that Genosha was definitely something different and he hadn't been prepared for that. "Defense isn't offense though. Just remember this. I'm teaching you how to get away from some jackass and run the hell away, get me? You want more than that, you can turn yourself to wood and do your best baseball bat impression."

"That works for me," said Frank, his voice still taut. After a moment, he stood, taking a lemon bar with him as he walked over to the coffee machine. "You want coffee? Figured we're here, now. Might as well enjoy ourselves."

"You go ahead," Matt wasn't a fan of coffee, "I'm not a big coffee person. Kinda tastes like bitter butt no matter how much cream and sugar I put it. Yay enhanced senses? I like the smell though," that was at least something. He sat back in the chair, resting his head against the back, "I'm so ready for school to be over. The next month won't end fast enough."

Frank snorted a laugh at that. "Fucking preach it, man," he muttered, and leaned against the counter. He let the silence draw out again, as the coffee machine boiled and bubbled away next to him. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder. "So. You're not exactly new to... this, right? The violence stuff."

Matt shook his head, "You can put it that way," he agreed in a neutral voice, "I'm kinda surprised Clint didn't mention it. We used to be foster brothers. He was there after I took a baseball bat to our foster father. That was my first arrest - assault," he reached over and pushed his shirtsleeve up to highlight five circular burns on one shoulder, "That's from another foster placement." He indicated the scars around his eyes, "Accident before I was in foster care, but it still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. The drug use came just after that actually, pain meds. Just like House. And like any addiction, it escalated."

Frank stared for a second, and then caught himself. Just because Matt couldn't see it, didn't make it any less rude. He turned to look back at the coffee machine. "That..." he began, carefully, "...is pretty fucking rough. I um... shit. I guess Clint figured it was personal stuff? You know. Not his place to tell, and such." The coffee machine whistled, and he poured himself a cup. "Shit, Matt, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Matt replied, rougher than he intended. He didn't need or want pity. "I made my choices. I did my time in juvie," and he didn't regret anything. Well, he regretted relapsing last summer after Genosha, but the rest? No. "I don't know how much Clint knows actually. We've never discussed it and he is younger than me. But he knows I was arrested and what I did and all that. Second arrest was drugs and I went to rehab for that one, then probation and here. And I've stayed away from handcuffs since, even though I relapsed last summer," he was grateful for that. If he'd been arrested again, lost his placement here at Xavier's, he had no idea what he would have done. Nothing good probably, "The gymnastics and stuff helps keep me focused when I get cravings. I'm not going to relapse again. I'm graduating and I'm going to college and I'm not gonna be a screw up." That was important.

Frank considered. "Good a way of dealing as any, I guess." The coffee machine whistled loudly, and he poured himself a cup, debating what to do next. Finally, he sat down. "You had it rough," he managed awkwardly. "Like, real rough, though. I-" he sighed. "This is retarded. I'm sorry. Look, I- my family and me... it's maybe not as good as it should be. Not as bad as yours, but not- ugh." He growled in frustration, scrubbing one hand through his hair. "I can't even fucking talk about it, how fucked up is that?"

He sighed. "I'm not a stranger to stuff being fucked up, Matt. That's what I'm trying to say. But if I'm going to deal with that, I need to know how, and I don't know how to deal with this particular brand of fucked-up. You see what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do," Matt sat back, thinking for a minute, "I don't know if the stuff here is because we're mutants or because the X-Men run around in the basement," that made it sound like they were some sort of secret lab experiment, but whatever. "It's okay if you don't want to bare your soul or whatever right now. If you do, I'll listen. Regardless though...I'm not sure anything really prepares you sometimes because until you're in that situation, it's hard to know how you will react," he thought about being stripped powerless and completely blind in Genosha and how he'd broken down unable to handle it.

"Yeah, I know," Frank said, voice low. "I'm not gonna be ready for that until it happens. I just... want tools. It's just insurance, man. For the stuff that's maybe not so psychotic. I mean, not everything's gonna be crazy violence and torture, right?" a beat. "Right?"

it was a flimsy joke, but the conversation seriously needed lightening.

"Only if you like it," Matt joked right back. "For all I know whips and chains turn you on," he made a face. Stuff like that was weird and he didn't get it. "Hey, you wanna know the difference between kinky and sensual?"

"Oh, dude, I am SO not discussing my sexual preferences with you!" Frank replied, laughing. "This leads to sharing of a kind neither of us want." He sipped his coffee. "I don't know, man. What is the difference?"

That was perfectly fine with Matt, especially since he enjoyed the viva la difference girls offered. Sensual," Matt explained, "is using a feather. Kinky is using the entire chicken." He thought that was hysterical.

Frank groaned theatrically and sank his head into his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. "God damnit, Matt," he sniggered. "That is... God damnit."