WARNING:
There is no explicit sex in this story (snicker), but a lot of innuendo about sexual matters and some bits of bad language. So be warned...

If you want to comment, send email to <luba@lubakmetyk.net>

Part 1

The faint predawn light coming through the window woke Kitty, as it usually did. She shifted in the large bed, turning over from their spoon position to wrap her arms around the warm male body snuggled so cozily against her, only to find vivid blue eyes open and staring back at her.

"Mornin', love." Pete bent to drop a kiss on the tip of her nose, then pushed the covers back. "You want the shower first, while I shave, or you want t' lay about a bit longer while I wash up?"

"Well, I thought we might stay in bed for a bit," she suggested in a low, dulcet tone, as soon as she recovered yet again from the continued shock of not having to coax or drag her lover out of bed every morning. It had been a while since they'd indulged in a morning loving or lie-in, and Kitty found she missed that part of their old routine.

But her boyfriend had already stood up, before she could tighten her hold on him, and was walking across the room to open their window further. "Right, then, I'll go first," he tossed over his shoulder, agreeably.

Kitty sniffed the air suspiciously, for any faint, lingering trace of cigarette smoke that he was trying to air out through the wide-open window he usually insisted stay shut to keep the horrid fresh air out, but there was no sign he'd broken his promise. "Wait a sec, Pete, we can shower together..." she called out, after his receding form -- as soon as she recovered the wits scattered by the rear view so temptingly on display. She scrambled out of the bed, as he ambled toward the bathroom.

"Sure, love, you want I should wash yer back... an' yer hair?" He paused and helped her into the roomy shower stall solicitously, and she leaned against him comfortably as he shampooed her thick chestnut hair, then squirmed around in pleasure while he was scrubbing her back, careful to get all those hard-to-reach places. Then Kitty returned the favor, as usual -- but, to her unvoiced dissatisfaction, washing each other didn't lead to other forms of hands-on water sports, as it usually did.

Getting dressed, she asked temptingly, "You want to sneak over to the mainland and grab some breakfast at the pub?" She glanced outside at the rising sun just appearing on the horizon, and added, a bit dubiously, "If Jack's got the Chalk and Cheese open this early, that is..."

Wisdom was already dressed, and waiting at the door. "Nah. We can just grab a bite here, with the others. The food's a lot better."

When they got to the kitchen, the only others there were Brian and Meggan. The brawny hulk was sitting at the table, perusing some reports his stockbroker had sent; the delicate elemental was setting the table while burbling about assorted wedding plans to her cringing fiance.

"Mornin'." Wisdom headed for the refrigerator and his head and upper body disappered from view.

"What... Wisdom?" Startled, Braddock dropped his papers. "Meggan, I'm sorry, I didn't think these papers would take so long..." he glanced up at the wall clock, "and they didn't. Wisdom, what are you doing here so early, confusing people?" Turning toward Kitty where she was searching through the shelves, Brian smirked, "Did he lose a bet of some sort?"

Pete was over at one of the counters now, with half a dozen eggs, carefully separating out the egg yolks and setting them aside. "Nah, just don't want t' waste the whole soddin' day cooped up an' witherin' away. So, you up fer a rousin' game o' football, or you want t' teach me t' play cricket, or somethin'?"

He didn't get any answer, because Kurt and Amanda walked in at that moment -- and because the other Englishman's mouth had dropped wide open in amazement. Instead, Meggan called out, "I want to make a fruit salad this morning, but I can't find the bananas or strawberries or melon. Did someone eat them?"

Using his egg whites to make up a tomato and mushroom omelet, Pete replied absently, "Yeah, sorry, Meg -- I ate all that stuff yesterday..."

Kitty was shaking an upended box of muesli over her bowl, her only reward a few lone crumbs. "I could have sworn this box was half-full yesterday."

Transferring his breakfast to a plate, Pete mumbled, "Yeah, well... sorry, love, I ate all yer friggin' birdseed yesterday too..." He glanced up in time to see his girlfriend heading for the refrigerator. "Err... if yer lookin' fer yer juice, Kit, see, I sort o' drank it all..." He gave her a noticably weak grin, and held out his fork with a small helping of omelet on it. "You want some o' my brekker? It's bloody good muck, all vegan an' none o' that cholesterol-full runny yolk..."

While Kitty accepted the peace offering, muttering through her scowl, "I think you mean vegetarian, Wisdom -- or am I eating an alien lifeform? Because I certainly seem to be living with one..." the two newcomers had started assembling their own meal -- or trying to.

"Anybody seen my blueberry yogurt?" Amanda stood with hands propped on her shapely hips, glaring at the open refrigerator as if it had gobbled her supplies.

Kitty, Meggan and Brian all turned to stare at the rumbled figure stuffing omelet in his face. "Umm... yeah, well, see, Sefton... I got hungry yesterday..."

Tail reaching over the irritated sorceress's shoulder, Wagner snagged a hefty chunk of bratwurst that had apparently not met the Londoner's new standards for edibility, then retreated with his own meal to the corner furthest from the former spy, to eye him with considerable trepidation. "Katzchen, I believe it would be politic of you to take Herr Wisdom upon a foraging expedition to the mainland today."

The blue-furred team leader expected a howl of anguished protest at being ordered to go shopping, but Pete just pushed his empty plate aside and stood up to grab his lady by the hand and pull her toward the door. And Kitty was so distracted by Pete's "Hey, mebbe we can get th' makin's o' that all-organic shite th' mother-in-law-from-hell made us back when, remember, Kit?" that she almost missed Brian muttering to Kurt, "Are we absolutely sure there isn't another dimensional warp, in Moira's basement? Because I could swear that man is from an alternate reality."

Walking the narrow streets, Kitty kept looking over her shoulder, mumbling, "No covert government agents ambushing us, no smart-mouth mercs attacking us, no cars trying to run us over (deliberately) as far as I can tell, no bombs planted in our shopping bags, no stupid muggers looking for easy marks, no aliens hunting for dinner... not even a little sweet old lady wanting her kitty rescued -- or a barmy old biddy wanting her liger cub -- after it got stuck up a tree. *They* all realize Pete here isn't himself, Maybe he's an alien clone -- if good people have evil clones, then evil old gits like him must have clones who are too good to be true. Or he's turned into a pod-person, or a mind-controlled zombie, or a victim of some awful nameless curse..."

Normally, she'd just relax and enjoy this rare shopping expedition, because she knew the chronically paranoid Wisdom was keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings, even as his equally habitual grousing served her as a human equivalent of a Walkman. But this time, packhorse Pete followed along dutifully behind her, lugging bags filled with their loot from the old bookseller's they'd just left, alternating soothing "Relax, Kitty, yer the one always tellin' me goin' fer walks is good, an' frettin' an' gettin' mad ain't healthy" with half-hearted grumbling "Wot kind o' damn soddin' pathetic bookdealer ain't got th' latest Hunter Thompson, then?"

Rather than complaining about being sent off shopping with her, Pete had cheerfully loaded up several carts with fresh fruits and vegetables, yogurts, milk and cheeses, organic cereals and juices, herbal teas and vitamin supplements at the local market. Afterwards, Kitty had fully expected to be dragged off -- not too reluctantly, she'd have to admit -- to at least one lingerie shop and pub, as his just reward for Nightcrawler assigning them this tedious chore, but Wisdom hadn't brought up either as a possible stop.

Instead, he'd followed her meekly enough through several different stores while Kitty looked for new sneakers, then let her get him a new pair of shoes and several new shirts -- although he'd shown more than a hint of his habitual stubbornness insisting on his same old style in plain white cotton. Pete had absolutely balked at buying any new suits, though, "not unless I can stock up on some more of me usual back in London, from Gilly's place."

It was a crumb, a faint shadow of his usual abrasive self, but Kitty was willing to settle for crumbs by now. In an increasingly determined effort to get him back to his familiar bitching and moaning, she began hitting every shop that looked even vaguely interesting, but Pete hadn't even protested all that much while she dragged him through several gift boutiques in her seeming perpetual search for the perfect wedding gift -- although he did mutter a touch rebelliously that "we should just get Meggan a choke chain an' muzzle fer her soon-to-be 'official' full-time problem... an' a book on 'Slender is Better'... which reminds me..."

That last remark sent Kitty's hopes soaring that some more flattering observations (or at least some lewd crude leers) on her own modest charms might follow, but no such luck. Instead, Pete suddenly turned and dragged her into a local pet shop they were passing. For a moment, Kitty wondered if he had been serious about getting Meggan a collar and leash for Brian. Then she caught her breath at the wild thought that he might have gotten inspired to buy one for her, remembering how she'd been turned on by his collaring her once in one of their more unique encounters. Flushing at her own reflex physical response to the mere idea, Kitty began debating whether she should get one for *him*, to see if chaining her recently platonic boyfriend to the bed might have the same arousing effect on him.

Back on Muir with the shopping all put away, Wisdom was sitting on the floor by the bed, trying to coax Kitty's pet dragon into coming out. "Oi there, you little winged plonker -- I ain't lookin' t' throw you out, I just want me clothes back." Lockheed had dragged several of Pete's suits and shirts under the bed yet again, where he'd piled them into a comfortable nest on which he sprawled, gnawing on one of the Englishman's brand-new shoes. "Look, dragon, Kit's always after me bum t' clean up in 'ere, so gimme a break an' gimme me clobber. See, I got you some felchin' good stuff when we was in town..."

A small purple snout highlighted with bright beady eyes and sharp gleaming fangs appeared slowly, as Pete kept dangling a catnip mouse on a string in one hand while he held out a palmful of cat treats in the other. After pausing first for a careful look around the room, to be sure they were alone, the small alien growled "I ain't no stupid cat, yoo stupid git..."

"Well, they was all out o' dragon treats an' rat chow an' suchlike," reasonably, "so you got t' settle fer wotever I could find. Although I suppose I could call that Mulder loon an' ask him fer some alien feed -- but he'd just jump on th' next plane over t' try t' arrest you so his lady partner could dissect you -- or I could mebbe get John t' ask Ellie fer some demon chow, if you'd rather..."

Slinking forward slightly, still checking for possible eavesdroppers, Pete's personal nemesis eyed him suspiciously. "Wot ya up ta, stinky?"

"Hey, mate, just tryin' t' make friends." Wisdom plastered a wounded expression on his thin, dark-shadowed face. "Pryde wants us t' get along, right?"

Cautiously, Lockheed slithered out even further into the open. "Yoo wanna be friends, stinky? Gimme yer fags, then..."

Pete shrugged. "I gave 'em all t' Pryde, remember?" He shook the string so the catnip mouse danced right under the small dragon's face. "So, you want t' play nice?" The answering snort of raging flame almost incinerated the proffered cat toy and his fingers both, but long practice let Pete snatch his hand back just in time. "Ok, mate, be like that." He dropped the ignored cat treats back into the open bag, then studied the rejected fuzzy pink plaything. "Be a shame t' waste all this, though -- mebbe I'll pick us up a cat next time we go shoppin'..."

"Kit not need no stupid cat!" Lockheed spat out jealously. "You bring cat, I have snack..."

"Nah, I know she's got you already," said so placatingly that his rival for Kitty's undivided attention just *knew* he was up to something, "but you know she wouldn't let you munch on no little puss. But Meggan or Rahney might want one..." Wisdom shook his head, muttering on to himself as Lockheed retreated back to his hidden nest with his fangs sunk into the other new shoe, "Nah, mebbe givin' a wolf a moggy ain't such a soddin' great idea -- but I bet Meggie *would* like one, mebbe a nice sweet little mackerel striped tabby or somethin' else cute an' pathetic-lookin'..."

Kitty glanced around the small, cheerfully decorated room set up to provide preschool childcare for members of Rahne's church. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but -- from the young werewolf girl's past descriptions of her nightmare upbringing under Reverend Craig's strict tutelage -- it had been something bare and bleak, dark and dour. But the only thing harsh and gloomy here was the weather outside, the constant drizzle cutting the afternoon light to a pale gray glow in the small windows scattered around.

Inside, the room was painted a cheerful daisy yellow, with bright green and blue and pink trim around the doors and windows matching the sturdy, hand-crafted, child-sized, painted chairs and tables, toychests and bookcases. Religious pictures showing Christ playing with children, helping Joseph in his carpenter shop and tending a flock of sheep mingled with others depicting assorted animal menageries on Noah's ark, all with a bright rainbow arching overhead, were hung on the walls, together with the children's own art projects. Only the floor covering was a drab dirty beige, worn almost threadbare with repeated washing and scrubbing; Rahne had explained, a bit apologetically, that frequent spills and other messes made anything else impractical.

Kitty really didn't notice the worn carpeting at all, however; her big brown eyes were riveted a foot or so above it, where her boyfriend -- the normally irrascible Pete Wisdom -- sat on the floor, jacket discarded, shirtsleeves rolled up, tie askew, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling tots all fighting him for their choice of the crayons scattered on the floor around them as they busily colored in illustrations of various biblical scenes which Rahne had handed out earlier, squealing in mock-fear at his mock-threats whenever they got up the courage to reach up and try to touch the gold foil-paper crown set rakishly on his thick black hair, the crown he'd won just a few moments ago by correctly identifying and reciting all the verses going with all those illustrations.

Her boyfriend, whom Kitty loved deeply and knew to be a much nicer person at heart than he acted, but who often said that all bloody rugrats should have been drowned at birth (himself included), had volunteered them to help Rahne with her preschool class when she'd worried that their usual teacher had fallen ill and she'd be on her own because there wasn't enough time for Sam to fly over. Up until now, the only tot Wisdom had ever had a good word for was Amanda Dillon, a cute little blonde pixie who was the daughter of Trevor Dillon, one of his old merc friends -- and of a woman who had first thrown her own sister down an abandoned well in order to steal her life and marry her sister's fiance, and then later bludgeoned another man (her husband's niece's husband, of whom Trevor did not approve) to death in a decidedly nontraditional effort to keep Trevor happy. And, in her most cynical moments, Kitty wondered if Pete was just curious to see if the infamous Crowbar Killer's genes bred true.

Kitty didn't know if she should worry less or more that Pete's... intimate... behavior toward her wasn't the only thing that seemed changed about him since he'd promised to try to reform his assorted bad habits. However, from the shellshocked look on Rahne's face, Kitty wasn't the only one getting worried about her man's wellbeing, mental as well as physical.

The young werewoman came over, to ask quietly "Sae, Kitty, do ye ken how Mr Wisdom knew all th' pictures, chapter and verse?"

"I asked him that. He told me his father made them all memorize the Bible," Kitty replied in an equally low voice. "Well, it sure seems to have made the kids accept him..." The children had been wary, indeed, of the thin dark Englishman with his foreign accent and his gruff manner when they'd first arrived. But they'd relaxed, giggling, when Wisdom had solemnly allowed Rahne to set his hard-won crown on his head, then waggled his eyebrows at his small, wide-eyed competitors and smirked, "See, even an English devil can quote Scripture to his own advantage."

Continued in Part 2...