nextgenerationmarvel | Between a Rock and a Hard Shell

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Between a Rock and a Hard Shell

Two turtles down, two more to go. Brooke was beginning to get convinced that Pete wasn't going to show up until she'd had a go with each of the turtles.

The first time, there had been the horrible failure of a pizza. The second time had gone considerably better, if somewhat cryptic.

Third time was the charm, right? At least, Brooke hoped it was. Rachel was going to kill her if she didn't follow through with this, and the last thing that Brooke wanted was to be incinerated by whatever spark of the Phoenix it was that Rachel possessed.

So, here Brooke was, this time armed with a picnic basket - really, food was the only way that Brooke could figure out a way to connect with a teenage mutant - and a smile on her face.

Once more, she knocked on Pete's door and waited.

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The word wahine brought to mind a pig trussed up in a Hawaiian-printed evening gown, ready to be roasted on a fragrant spit.

Not that she mentioned this or let it show on her face.

Brooke did a small curtsey, and stepped out into the corridor. "I wasn't sure what you liked to eat - and the first time I fed one of your brothers, it was very much a failure - but there's hummingbird cake and pasta salad and cherry limeade and club sandwiches." Food that was far more basic than what Brooke was used to, but wasn't that the point? To get off of the pedestal she had situated herself on top of and getting to know her fellow Xavierites?

He scratched his bald pate after he shut the dorm room door behind himself. "They make cakes out of hummingbirds? Whooaa. Those bakers gotta be real fast. Also, probably very crunchy cake."

Porthos was teasing. Even if he wasn't sure what hummingbird cake was. He would have to ask Kayla about it sometime.

"All sounds nectar. To the pool."

Brooke grinned at that. "I don't know why they call it that," she admitted. "But its got pineapple and banana and pecans. Sounds hideous. Tastes surprisingly delicious." Pause. "You aren't allergic to any of that, are you?"

He paused to consider his answer. Or to recollect all the food he's ever eaten.

"Nah. I can eat just about anything, W to the En garde." Since verbal sparring seemed to be her thing from what he heard, he thought that appellation fit. He patted his front carapace like the thunk sound was his fit belly showing how solid it was.

"If you've had some before, it's aaaalllll good."

"That's a good ability to have," Brooke said. "The power to ingest almost anything." She wondered if that fail pizza of hers would have done well Porthos in that case.

She quirked up an eyebrow at the en garde comment but refrained from correcting him. There had to be a reason for it, and Brooke could feel that he didn't mean it maliciously.

Which made things so difficult for her. It was always easier being a bitch than it was being a nice person. Always.

Inwardly, she sighed. Was this really supposed to be some sort of behavioral correction thing for Brooke? More than it was to help make Pete more comfortable?

Brooke couldn't help but wonder.

"So. Does that," she pointed at his carapaced belly, "mean that you can't get tubby?"

"It sustains life," he said with as much sagacity as a Buddhist monk may have. He figured 'W to the en garde' sounded a lot like her surname. So, why not use until he was asked not to?

He scratched under his chin thoughtfully. He tried to push his stomach out, but it just ended up looking like he was trying to tuck the bottom of his shell under his knees.

"Well, I could try, but I think the fat rolls would come out the sides. Whole new meaning to floatation device."

Brooke grinned at that. "Cute." She reached up and moved a lock of hair off of her shoulder. "So, I'm assuming that you're kind of the fun-loving party boy of the five of you?"

He raised a scaly brow. "Shyeah. Don't ask any of the others to dance. Unless you got lead-topped shoes."

He wiggled his twinkle toes on his feet. Which made his walking strides a little funny as they moved toward the pool.

"They don't really tip the kind of shoes I wear with lead," Brooke said, pointing down to her shoes. "More of a delicate lady, I am."

Porthos clopped oddly along in his wooden sandals as he glanced down at Brooke's feet. Despite the floral pattern he doubted there was much wood in them.

"Definite toe crushing then. I suggest flowering the wall." When they got to the door to outside, he went out first and then held the door open for her.

"Flowering the wall?" Brooke didn't understand that turn of phrase. She steppe out into the warm, springy sunlight and hoped that this wasn't the only day like this they were going to get. It had been staying colder later into the year recently, and she didn't want to walk out and discover snow.

"Avoiding the dance floor? Hanging out at the sides?" He wasn't sure how being a wallflower was a strange concept. So he put more words to it. W to the en garde was a smart cookie, so he had faith she'd figure it out.

He stretched after Brooke exited. "Pick a spot. Any spot, wahine."

"Oh!" Brooke nodded as she strode towards the pool. She chose a spot in the corner, shady enough for now, but a spot where, once the sun moved, would be comfortably warm.

Not that she was dressed to be out by the pool.

"Sorry, I've never been much of the wallflower type. Not when I could be the center of attention instead."

Porthos trailed after. He glanced at the pool. It looked inviting for a cannonball. But later. When he wouldn't get screamed at.

"Well, if your toes get axed, maybe the EMTs will be cute."

"And gentlemanly," Brooke sniffed. "I'm a proper lady and would like to be treated as such." She settled down at the table and unpacked the lunch things, perhaps a little less than expertly. She was, after all, not the help.

"Though I do know how to dance. I'm not so worried about losing a toe." She paused. "Actually, that does bring up a question. Not to be macabre, but I have to wonder...if one of you gets a cut or, worse, loses a body part, does it affect the others? Or does it regenerate with the changing of the guard?"

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Dunno. Guess we're all one body. Though can't change to others without certain parts."

Like the weapons and clothing each of them had. Porthos himself sometimes prolonged the time he was in control by hiding his nunchaku away from his body. He figured weapon hiding would be more appreciated around the school than hiding his pants.

"So if I ripped that necklace away from you and kept it to myself, you'd be stuck in Oz forever?" Just so they were clear.

"Whooooaaa. Totally uncool, dudette." He settled down at the table anyway.

"But firstly, you'd actually have to get your hand close enough to."

Oh, Porthos. Brooke's too terrified of turtles to come in that close.

She chuckled, though, and passed a glass of the cherry limeade to the turtle. "Don't worry, I don't intend to do anything like that." She unwrapped the sandwiches, then. "Are you worried that if Pete ever becomes the dominant personality, that the four of you will disappear?" Because it was clear to Brooke that Pete wasn't all too dominant .

He took the cherry limeade and took a sip. He smacked his lips slightly. That was tasty.

"Mm. We're all parts of Pete. We'll always be here. Little dude needs to eat it less." He considered Brooke. "Ever seen Kung Fu Panda?"

"If it didn't star Audrey Hepburn, probably not," Brooke replied. She smiled, then, and shrugged. "Animated films aren't really my cup of tea."

"Call it turtle research. Oogway is the best character ever." Porthos cracked a grin. He loved that old master. He'd even sniffled at the old turtle's ascent.

"Call it martial arts turtle research, dudette. It couldn't hurt. Then watch Finding Nemo. It's pretty tubular. Particularly Crush."

Brooke blinked. She wasn't exactly sure how any of this research was going to help. Those turtles were entirely different from these turtles, right?

"Are you...telling me that researching these things will help me find a way to lure Peter out?"

His grin didn't disappear. It actually got a little wider. "Wahine lemme let you in on a not-so-secret."

He waved for her to lean closer as he adjusted his posture to do much the same. Close but nowhere near touching. He used a stage whisper.

"If he's awake, he sees and hears what we sense. If he knows you're clucked around fine specimens like myself? He's got a rickt defense. So, pull up ya baggies and chillax into the turtle way."

"So the more I dig, the less I'll find. The more I just hang out and get to know you, the closer I'll get to Peter?" Was that what he was hinting at?

"Best way not to get stuffed," he agreed. Brooke had a reputation around the school. Porthos wasn't one to judge a person until he met them, but Pete could have been a different story. Particularly as he was a bit skittish to begin with.

The surfer turtle sat back and nodded. "Wanna catch him during a jag, you gotta work to be part of his crew."

Part of a crew. She had to be part of a crew.

What was this, 1995? Was she suddenly a castmember of Clueless?

She shook her head and handed a sandwich to Porthos.

"Let me guess. My reputation preceded me and I've terrified the turjeezus out of him?"

Porthos shrugged. "Not sure, but mutants freak him out."

He took the sandwich and glanced at the mansion. "Also, high school. Everybody chatters. So mutants in school? Scary times two."

He took a bite out of the sandwich. He gave her a tasty thumbs up as he chewed.

"Of course they do," Brooke sighed. A mutant terrified of his own self.

Rachel was really giving Brooke the hard stuff to deal with.

Being scared of school, okay, Brooke could understand that. She was pretty much a terror herself.

But being afraid of who you were? That was something she couldn't connect with.

"That has to be rough on the poor guy's psyche."

The turtle ate his sandwich. He paused between bites.

"Not sure, but you swim to the same wave everyone else here goes to. He surfs a different one."

He shrugged and finished up his sandwich. "What's being a mutant cost you?"

Brooke looked down at her lap at that. She wasn't detectably a mutant. There were no physical mutations on her. Even when she used her powers, there were no obvious signs about her person that anything was happening. No glowing eyes, no aura of power, no wind effect coming from seemingly nowhere. She'd learned an old phrase for what she was back in history class.

Passing.

Brooke could pass for a baseline human.

Pete, conceivably, couldn't, much in the way that neither Hank McCoy nor Kurt Wagner were able to. Even Colossus was able to hide his mutation when he wanted to.

Pete couldn't even control his yet.

Brooke closed her eyes. Yes, she'd had some issues. A mother who wanted to live her dreams through Brooke. A father who she hadn't known had existed until recently, and who still managed to be mostly absent. No real friends until Stephanie Shaw had come into her life.

But none of that probably compared to what Peter went through. None of it could.

"Point taken and noted."

Edited 2014-05-26 08:21 (UTC)

He grabbed his cherry limeade and took a big sip.

"He's got some serious pucker factor. Me? It's all good. The glass axe don't hang over my head. Don't let it get you down, wahine. Just use it to forecast which wave to rip."

"I'm not down? I'm just..." Brooke paused and took a sip of the cherry limeade. "Confused? Concerned. Rachel's worried about Pete, and to be completely honest? I'm starting to understand why. I don't know him personally either, but I get it." She nodded, then, and slid over some of the hummingbird cupcakes. "But I'm a patient enough woman."

He snagged one of the cupcakes. He eyed it to make sure there were no iridescent wings sticking out of it. When it looked clear of actual humming bird. He took a bite.

He nodded and then swallowed. "For sure. Little dude's stuck inside the rinse cycle."

"Well, I've got some dryer sheets on hand for when he's ready to tumble dry," Brooke said wryly. "Lavender-scented and everything."

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Between a Rock and a Hard Shell

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