Fic: Instincts [X-men Origins]
Awww, jeez, this is such sap! I didn't really mean for it to turn out like that. Again, it was supposed to be a drabble but it kind of just kept going. But whatever.
Victor Creed discovers another ability.
James was still sleeping back in the cabin, having been gone most the night. They weren’t speaking much lately, though that was nothing new or uncomfortable. Sometimes their cycles just didn’t match up. Figured Jimmy was getting restless, turn of the century coming and all that. Might be moving on soon. More’s the pity because the place had been good to them, not too secluded, not too close to town, kept them there almost five years now. Though he supposed that was long enough. Didn’t feel like long, but he thought he was still too young to be thinking that. He hadn’t kept close track but he must be over fifty now. Felt nice, like he’d finally reached a lull in the pounding of his blood. Maybe this was what middle age was supposed to be like.
The morning sunlight was shiny in the thin mountain air, and Victor roamed by the stream, followed it down for nothing better to do. Might nap himself in the sun. He was warm enough he didn’t need his coat. Though he supposed it was still to early to claim winter was over when he saw the bridge up ahead, boy standing on it bundled in coat and scarf and hat. He had a sack over his shoulder and was staring down at the water. Over the murmur of the swift water Victor could hear mewling, see the canvas squirming. He slipped into the tree-line and was up behind the boy before he’d had a chance to toss it over.
“What you got there?”
The boy spun round and dropped the sack off his shoulder, setting it on the slats with more care.
“Startled me, sir,” he muttered. Victor wasn’t looking for a conversation.
“Said what you got?”
“It’s kittens, sir. Barn cat got stupid or something, breedin’ in this season. Don’ know why she did it.”
The boy looked around ten, old enough not to get upset about it and he looked like he knew it. Trying to hide his discomfort, gentle waft of sweat belying nervousness, embarrassment, reaching Victor’s nose.
“Gonna drown em,” Victor asked, though it wasn’t really a question. Of course the kid was.
“Of course,” the boy said, “don’ have the food for all of em. Bad enough we gotta give the cat her cream.”
The mewling in the sack was constant, panicked. Tiny little claws poking between the fibers and smell of fear strong for things so little.
“Still nursing?” Victor asked. The boy’s surprise was enough to make him raise his eyes from the wood under his feet and actually look at him. Victor watched the question play over in the boy’s mind, obviously unable to figure out why it was asked.
“No, sir,” he said. “Wasn’t so hard when they got their food from the mother but now they’re all askin for a meal.”
“Old enough for solid is old enough to hunt,” Victor said. “No need to toss em.” He extended his hand expectantly. The boy still looked confused.
“Not enough rats on the farm for em,” he said. “Better to keep those for the mother cat.”
Of course. Only keep an animal around if it’s useful. Soon as it’s not, kill it. Wouldn’t even cross their minds to just let em go, let em find their own way. If they starve, they starve. Better odds than being shut up in the dark and tossed in a river. People weren’t half as welcoming to him and Jimmy as they were there was a war on. When there was a use for em.
The knowledge of that was floating around in his head somewhere, though he didn’t bother to pick it up. Didn’t even bother to question why this bothered him so much. Why it bothered him at all. He accepted the feeling like he accepted all of his moods. And right now, his patience was running thin.
“Hand it over,” he snarled. Let a fang show, let his claws slide into the knot of the sack without waiting for a real response. The boy’s eyes went wide and he let go right away. Victor could hear his heart pounding its way out of his chest even as the boy took off hot down the path towards town.
Victor strolled back to the bank, settling in the sun, back against a fallen trunk. He ripped his nails through the knot, material falling open and bout a dozen tiny little furry things struggling into the light. Most hightailed it away, scattering into the trees or down the bank. No bigger than the palm of his hand, but if they could run like that they’d got a chance. A few sat calling out in confusion, still disoriented and scared. But that faded fast, smart little things, forget the monsters in their past soon as possible. They prowled around him, sniffing. One flopped on its back and started gnawing on the leather of his boots, batting at the laces. Another one stalked it from the other side of his foot, leaping over and they went tumbling, growling and biting until one got the upper hand, tiny jaws closing down on the other’s throat and the other one whined and called out in notes of panic and pain. But Victor knew better. Knew a bluff when he saw it. He’d seen pups play-fighting in the streets plenty of times, seen real dogfights too. It wasn’t the tone of voice that calls it, its the smell. All he caught now was the delicate whiff of adrenaline, not the fear and aggression of a real fight. And the inevitable tang of blood. He felt a smile tug at one corner of his mouth.
He felt a prick in his finger and looked down to see another kitten on its back under his hand, grabbing him with all of it’s little claws and chewing happily. It began to rumble, such a loud noise for such a little thing. He scooped one hand under it, and it lay on its back fitting easily in his palm. He wiggled the finger over it and it purred louder, gnawing sideways to use its molars. He curled another finger around to stroke the animal’s throat and feel the vibrations there, claws carefully retracted. It didn’t get nervous or even seem to notice, just turned its head to gnaw with the other side.
Victor felt a strange tightening in his throat, like muscles he didn’t know he had were waking up, and down into his chest something began to hum, resonating upwards. He could feel it in his teeth and in the bottoms of his ears, the hairs on his neck prickling.
"I’ll be damned,” was the first worded thought that had entered his head since the boy had left, and he let it come and drift away.
He was actually smiling now, one fang digging pleasantly into his lip. The warmth from the sun promised spring soon, made him sleepy and content. He smiled down at the kitten that continued to purr at him, and he purred right back.
comments make a happy kitty
Victor Creed discovers another ability.
James was still sleeping back in the cabin, having been gone most the night. They weren’t speaking much lately, though that was nothing new or uncomfortable. Sometimes their cycles just didn’t match up. Figured Jimmy was getting restless, turn of the century coming and all that. Might be moving on soon. More’s the pity because the place had been good to them, not too secluded, not too close to town, kept them there almost five years now. Though he supposed that was long enough. Didn’t feel like long, but he thought he was still too young to be thinking that. He hadn’t kept close track but he must be over fifty now. Felt nice, like he’d finally reached a lull in the pounding of his blood. Maybe this was what middle age was supposed to be like.
The morning sunlight was shiny in the thin mountain air, and Victor roamed by the stream, followed it down for nothing better to do. Might nap himself in the sun. He was warm enough he didn’t need his coat. Though he supposed it was still to early to claim winter was over when he saw the bridge up ahead, boy standing on it bundled in coat and scarf and hat. He had a sack over his shoulder and was staring down at the water. Over the murmur of the swift water Victor could hear mewling, see the canvas squirming. He slipped into the tree-line and was up behind the boy before he’d had a chance to toss it over.
“What you got there?”
The boy spun round and dropped the sack off his shoulder, setting it on the slats with more care.
“Startled me, sir,” he muttered. Victor wasn’t looking for a conversation.
“Said what you got?”
“It’s kittens, sir. Barn cat got stupid or something, breedin’ in this season. Don’ know why she did it.”
The boy looked around ten, old enough not to get upset about it and he looked like he knew it. Trying to hide his discomfort, gentle waft of sweat belying nervousness, embarrassment, reaching Victor’s nose.
“Gonna drown em,” Victor asked, though it wasn’t really a question. Of course the kid was.
“Of course,” the boy said, “don’ have the food for all of em. Bad enough we gotta give the cat her cream.”
The mewling in the sack was constant, panicked. Tiny little claws poking between the fibers and smell of fear strong for things so little.
“Still nursing?” Victor asked. The boy’s surprise was enough to make him raise his eyes from the wood under his feet and actually look at him. Victor watched the question play over in the boy’s mind, obviously unable to figure out why it was asked.
“No, sir,” he said. “Wasn’t so hard when they got their food from the mother but now they’re all askin for a meal.”
“Old enough for solid is old enough to hunt,” Victor said. “No need to toss em.” He extended his hand expectantly. The boy still looked confused.
“Not enough rats on the farm for em,” he said. “Better to keep those for the mother cat.”
Of course. Only keep an animal around if it’s useful. Soon as it’s not, kill it. Wouldn’t even cross their minds to just let em go, let em find their own way. If they starve, they starve. Better odds than being shut up in the dark and tossed in a river. People weren’t half as welcoming to him and Jimmy as they were there was a war on. When there was a use for em.
The knowledge of that was floating around in his head somewhere, though he didn’t bother to pick it up. Didn’t even bother to question why this bothered him so much. Why it bothered him at all. He accepted the feeling like he accepted all of his moods. And right now, his patience was running thin.
“Hand it over,” he snarled. Let a fang show, let his claws slide into the knot of the sack without waiting for a real response. The boy’s eyes went wide and he let go right away. Victor could hear his heart pounding its way out of his chest even as the boy took off hot down the path towards town.
Victor strolled back to the bank, settling in the sun, back against a fallen trunk. He ripped his nails through the knot, material falling open and bout a dozen tiny little furry things struggling into the light. Most hightailed it away, scattering into the trees or down the bank. No bigger than the palm of his hand, but if they could run like that they’d got a chance. A few sat calling out in confusion, still disoriented and scared. But that faded fast, smart little things, forget the monsters in their past soon as possible. They prowled around him, sniffing. One flopped on its back and started gnawing on the leather of his boots, batting at the laces. Another one stalked it from the other side of his foot, leaping over and they went tumbling, growling and biting until one got the upper hand, tiny jaws closing down on the other’s throat and the other one whined and called out in notes of panic and pain. But Victor knew better. Knew a bluff when he saw it. He’d seen pups play-fighting in the streets plenty of times, seen real dogfights too. It wasn’t the tone of voice that calls it, its the smell. All he caught now was the delicate whiff of adrenaline, not the fear and aggression of a real fight. And the inevitable tang of blood. He felt a smile tug at one corner of his mouth.
He felt a prick in his finger and looked down to see another kitten on its back under his hand, grabbing him with all of it’s little claws and chewing happily. It began to rumble, such a loud noise for such a little thing. He scooped one hand under it, and it lay on its back fitting easily in his palm. He wiggled the finger over it and it purred louder, gnawing sideways to use its molars. He curled another finger around to stroke the animal’s throat and feel the vibrations there, claws carefully retracted. It didn’t get nervous or even seem to notice, just turned its head to gnaw with the other side.
Victor felt a strange tightening in his throat, like muscles he didn’t know he had were waking up, and down into his chest something began to hum, resonating upwards. He could feel it in his teeth and in the bottoms of his ears, the hairs on his neck prickling.
"I’ll be damned,” was the first worded thought that had entered his head since the boy had left, and he let it come and drift away.
He was actually smiling now, one fang digging pleasantly into his lip. The warmth from the sun promised spring soon, made him sleepy and content. He smiled down at the kitten that continued to purr at him, and he purred right back.
comments make a happy kitty