Subject: [OTL]: Acceptance 1/1 (New Mutants) by kaleko Date: Thu, 12 Apr 2001 11:51:17 -0400 From: kaleko kitty Acceptance by kaleko *** Disclaimer: They're Marvel's, not mine. I didn't ask to use them and I'm not making any money off of them. This story is for entertainment purposes only. Please contact me before putting this anywhere unless you already have blanket permission from me. Author's Note: This story is slash fic... kind of. So you've been warned. This story got started by a dare to turn two blantently heterosexual characters homosexual, and I found that I really couldn't do it believably without horribly altering their characters. Instead, I've catered to my theory that a lot of people experiment with the same sex in their teens, when they're confused about what they feel, the world around them and most of all their budding sexuality. I don't think neither Sam nor Roberto are homosexual, but I think it's possible that something occured or was on it's way to occuring between them when they were younger. So this is what resulted. Enjoy! *** This is the picture: a breezy summer's day. There are rolling hills of grass on all sides, a blue, blue sky covering the expanse over me, with white, fluffy clouds painted across it with what could have been a sponge. The day looks like a painting from God, me just a tiny speck on the portrait. I watched the wind ripple through the grass and make it sway from one side to the next and bask in the sunlight and marvel at it all. This was usually my place to forget, but I couldn't forget. I couldn't forget how he stopped with that firm look on his face, shrugged and said: "I don't know. I guess your best features would be your eyes." Then he looked down and away from me like he knew where that was going and said: "I don't know. I've never really looked." "Why my eyes?" I had asked the forbidden question, just as casual as I would have asked him to pass the milk at the breakfast table. "They're as blue as the ocean." he said, letting it, that emotion, slip out for a mere second. Then he recovered, shrugging again. "I just remember having to concentrate on your eyes in training sessions, to determine your next move. I've honestly never really looked. You should be asking the girls something like this." "Well, I wanted an unbiased opinion." That was a lie. I had wanted his opinion on what my best feature was. He'd said exactly what I wanted to hear. So why wasn't I satisfied? Why had it upset me so? Maybe because I knew what I was feeling was wrong. That place reminded me of that even more, as I looked at my surroundings and realized I was such a tiny piece in all of it, and whoever started it all is a phenomena I wouldn't ever want to spar with. I'd heard Him whisper in my ear everytime I got those thoughts in my head and I could only flinch away from that, from that one thing that could either build me up or bring me down. I prayed for myself that day. It was so odd, because I never do, I always prayed for someone else. That the Lord give them guidance and mercy and love, and to watch over my loved ones back home and to help all my friends doing wrong to see the Light of God and all his wonders. Some nights I just said a standard prayer because it was easier and I didn't feel like being kind to anyone, I just wanted to tear my room apart and burn my bible and curse God's face. It wasn't the right way to be, so I just thanked Him for granting me patience, pray that if I had done anything wrong that He help correct me for I'm only human and have sinned, and go to sleep in my bed. Alone. That day was different. I talked to the heavens. I walked in circles and back and forth and said things aloud that I'd never been able to admit. If you ask me, God was standing there next to me, pacing with me, helping me sort out all the jumbled things in my jumbled mind. A lot of people think they should fear God... maybe I did, too, until that day. Instead I felt like I was talking to a dear, old friend and he was disapproving of what I wanted to do and telling me what was right to do, but saying it kindly, subtly, reminding me in the end it was all up to me. Maybe that's why I made it a point to get back as fast as I could to catch dinner. He was not there. I went to bed alone. *** I was awake. I was staring up at the ceiling and wondering if I wanted to get out of bed. It would probably be a good idea. I had a very strange dream that night. "So we're friends," I said. "Right," he said "Friends kiss," I said. "Yeah. It's macho," he said. "Right. Greeks." "Greeks had *sex*," he muttered, looking appalled. "Yeah," I said, kind of let down. "That was... macho..." "Yeah," he agreed. There was a long pause. "You wanna?" "We're macho, aren't we?" I asked. "Alexander the Great was the toughest man in the *world*!" "Yeah!" "And *he* screwed men all the time." "Yeah." I woke up, then, staring at my ceiling. It could have been a sign. *** "Morning, Sam." "Hey, Bobby." Every morning the same. I was usually the first one up, and he was usually the last. I skewed my schedule for him, though, so that we could sit down at breakfast together and make fun of the morning news. We always got yelled at if an adult was in the room, because world news was supposed to be serious, of course, but to us sometimes it was just too funny. It was different that day, though. The tv blared, being the only sound in the room, and the two of us ate our bowls of cereal silently. Well, I ate my bowl of cereal silently. He had a screwdriver that he passed off as orange juice. The boy was strange, what can I say? We didn't really look at each other, but had our eyes stuck on the tv. They were talking about a protestor's convention of some sort, where you could go and join clubs to protest against mutants and homosexuals and abortion and just about anything under the sun. "Do you think," he said, tilting his head, "A homosexual will show up protesting mutants, and a mutant will show up protesting homosexuals, and they'll fight to the death, and eventually, every single hateful person at that inane convention will die?" I nodded. "Sounds like a good idea to me, though I don't think we should wish for 'em to die..." He casually glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow, lips pursed together, scoffing at my naiveity, no doubt. Then I added, "What about a homosexual mutant protesting abortion?" He looked at me again, barely moving his head, his chocolate eyes just glancing at me from the corner of his eyes. "I suppose," he just said, and flicked off the tv. He finished off his drink and left the glass on the table before leaving the room. I idly noted he'd never acted that way before and quietly finished off my bowl of Cheerios before the morning training session. *** "You've become increasingly uncomfortable around me. Why?" I looked up at him a little shocked to say the least, my heart beginning to thump in my throat. What could I say now? What could I do? I couldn't lie to him, not now, not after all this time. We'd been sitting in his room watching a baseball game together when it came up. I thought of a thousand different ways to say what I felt but none of them sounded right. So I leaned close to him, waiting for a sign that he wouldn't reject me just like I'd seen in those Italian short films. He just stared back at me dumbly, baffled at what he knew I was implying. He frowned, then, the edges of his brown lips turning downward, his eyes narrowing a little. "It's late. You should go," he said. So I left. We never talked about that night again. *end*