After dancing with the warlock Kono retreated to a quiet corner. She felt terribly out of place, like she was intruding on something that was meant for family and friends of the two men she’d never even met. She was so lost in thought she barely noticed anyone approaching her.
I had this idea that Warren would babysit the Bamfs when Kurt was away. Now I don’t know much about Bamfs so don’t expect too much accuracy from this little one-shot but *throws* have it anyway :D
Warren understood that it would upset Kurt greatly if his little…well, Warren didn’t know what to class them as, his kids? Brothers? Tiny minions? Regardless of their label, Kurt wouldn’t be happy if any of them came out with a single injury, which was getting harder and harder to maintain as the minutes crawled by.
The “Bamfs” as Kurt called them, were the little creatures that had been left with Warren as Kurt went on a rather dangerous mutant-retrieving mission with his fellow X-Men - for which Warren had not yet been recruited. That time would come, and with it the relieved duty of playing babysitter.
But there Warren sat, curled up on his bed with his headphones tightly over his ears in an attempt to convey to the little demons that he simply didn’t care. He’d tried speaking to them, but found that they knew only German, a result of being around Kurt he assumed. It made the whole situation more and more frustrating.
The Bamfs - all eight of them - had taken a liking to his wings, constantly crawling up the bed (and up Warren!) to take a look and a feel. It didn’t help that they could teleport, for whenever Warren tried to shoo them away, they poofed just out of his reach only to come back after a minute.
They jumped on everything, climbed on everything, and Warren was certain that half of his tapes now had bite marks on them. Is this what kids are like? he thought as he swatted at a Bamf getting too close to his wings again. The creature stuck out his tongue at him and proceeded to teleport to his light fixture and hang from it.
“It’s not my goddamn fault if you all end up dead!” Warren exclaimed, ripping off his headset and tossing it aside. He stretched his wings and arms, hearing satisfying pops in return. The Bamfs took quiet notice of his change of position but quickly resumed their activities, constantly babbling in German as they did.
One Bamf sat quietly away from all the rest. He stared in awe at Warren’s scowl, then mimicked it, followed by a toothy grin. He padded over to the winged mutant and stood on the bed. With wide eyes, he carefully reached out a three-fingered hand and placed it on Warren’s cheek.
Warren froze as the loner Bamf touched his face. In his mind, he was repeating the word “what” about a hundred miles per hour. The speed at which he did so only increased as the other seven stopped what they were doing and grabbed a hold of Warren. He opened his mouth to speak, but words were soon replaced by a screech as the tiny demons teleported him to the front lawn of the School.
He landed rather ungracefully on his bum and it took a few seconds to clear his vision of the smoke, but as soon as it did, he found only one Bamf still attached to his arm. Warren glared at him, receiving a cheeky smile in response.
“Varren!” the tiny blue creature stated, crawling into his lap and plopping down on his stomach. Warren wheezed - since when did these things get so heavy? - and stood up, reflexively putting an arm underneath the Bamf to keep it from falling.
His mind worked slowly at the moment, and only after he processed the last few seconds had he realized the creature had said his name.
“Little guy, you just said my name!” Warren looked down curiously at the Bamf clutching tightly to his leather jacket. He stared up at Warren before nuzzling into his chest.
“Varren! Lassen Sie uns spielen gehen!” came a muffled reply. The tiny blue demon gestured to his fellow Bamfs as they crawled about the yard, some as far as the lake already.
“Buddy, you know I can’t understand-” Warren started, then groaned as he took off to catch the annoying creatures, the obedient Bamf clinging haphazardly to his front.
Minutes later, Warren had managed to gather the rest of the Bamfs and occupy them with a stick battle. They were rather skilled in the art of sword fighting, he noticed, leaning against a tree.
“You know, I really hoped that this would get me some brownie points with Kurt,” Warren grumbled, mostly to himself. “Only reason why I’m not smacking you all over the head right now. You aren’t going away anytime soon, are you? Our first date will be trying to catch you little guys, won’t it?” Warren realized what he’d said and his cheeks flushed.
Okay, so maybe he wanted a little more than “brownie points” when it came to Kurt. But no one needed to know that.
The outlier Bamf - Warren had decided to name him Blue - sat patiently at Warren’s feet and fiddled with a piece of grass. The man studied the small creature with a tiny smile on his face. He liked this one - quiet, simple, not destructive.
“So…” Warren began, but was interrupted by a painful tug on his hair. His smile immediately disappeared and he glanced up at the Bamf hanging upside-down by his tail on a branch. He pulled Warren’s hair again and grinned. In his other hand was a large white flower, which he placed in Warren’s palm as the man reached up to grab the Bamf.
Warren blinked. A flower? His gaze darted from the bloom in his hand to the precariously-hanging creature. His attention was then drawn to the silence from the other Bamfs, who, as he looked back at the bunch, now had different types of flowers stuffed into their tiny palms.
“Okay…uh, thanks?” Warren kneeled down and was showered with blooms. A smile crawled onto his face.
“Varren, Kurt!” Blue exclaimed. He patted Warren’s fists, now stuffed with flowers.
“You…want me to give these to Kurt?” Warren said slowly. Blue nodded after a moment of silence. The small face twisted with excitement.
Blue turned to the Bamfs and began speaking quickly in German, waving his hands as if giving orders. Warren watched in amusement as three Bamfs climbed on top of each other and motioned for Warren to stand as well. He did so, and came face-to-face with the little devils.
An eyebrow was quirked as Warren was handed a flower and directed to give it to the tower of Bamfs. He couldn’t contain his smile as he handed it to the top Bamf, who took it delicately and swooned, batting his eyes at Warren.
“Hold on,” Warren said, laughter breaking through his words, “are you doing what I think you’re doing?” He looked down at Blue, who wore a large smile.
“Varren. Kurt.” Blue pointed to Warren, then the tower of Bamfs. The winged mutant fell into a fit of laughter, leaning against the tree in an attempt to catch his breath.
“Okay, okay, you want to play this game?” Warren gasped after a minute of hysterics. “Okay then. Okay. We’re doing this. Why the hell not.”
He turned back to “Kurt” and stood up straight. “So, uh, what now?”
The topmost Bamf tossed the flower to the side and grabbed a hold of Warren’s cheeks. A sound of protest from Warren was followed by cheers from the unoccupied Bamfs as the small creature placed a kiss onto Warren’s lips.
Warren stumbled back and wiped his mouth, internally screaming.
“Yo, I did NOT say that was okay!” he exclaimed with a shocked glare and red cheeks. The Bamf tower only laughed, high-pitched and gleeful, and made grabby-handed motions. “Nooooo, no!”
Blue swiftly knocked the bottommost Bamf in the arm, who feigned hurt and rolled his eyes. He pinched the middle Bamf, who did the same to the topmost Bamf. The blue devil made a noise of displeasure, crossing his arms. He muttered some unheard phrase in German but motioned for Warren to return to his position.
“Hell no!” was Warren’s reply. He glanced down as he felt a tug on his pant leg and found Blue holding up a large rose. The look the creature wore was pleading and hopeful.
After a moment of hesitation, Warren rolled his eyes and took the flower. He faced the Bamf tower, and with a deep breath he put on his most charming smile.
“Heya, blue cutie, wanna come with me to dinner?” Warren produced the rose from behind his back and offered it to the Bamf. The Bamf took it and sniffed, a dreamy smile crossing over his features. Warren could suddenly see the similarities between the little demons and Kurt, the playful tones behind their eyes and - for the most part - gentle and careful movements.
“Vhy yes, I’d love to,” came a reply from behind Warren. Now that was a voice he recognized. A squeak of embarrassment left his lips as Warren straightened and turned around swiftly.
Kurt’s mouth was drawn into a smile and he was snickering quietly. Warren noted the light purple splotches on his cheeks as his own face grew warm.
“I, uh…I didn’t mean to…well, I guess,” Warren sputtered. He dared not meet Kurt’s eyes. “They made me!” He finally cried out, pointing an accusing finger at the group of Bamfs.
“Who did?” Warren lifted his gaze and was met with teasing confusion.
“The hell do you mean? Your little Bamf buddies, they forced me to…”
Warren turned back around and blinked. The place where the group had been gathered a minute ago was now barren. In their place, there laid a perfect white rose.
“Are you feeling okay, Varren?” Kurt asked, breaking his confusion. He walked over and placed a three-fingered hand on Warren’s forehead, brushing away the curls and feeling his temperature.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Warren cleared his throat and flapped his wings nervously. An awkward silence fell over the pair as Kurt dropped his hand.
“Vell, if it’s not too much trouble, I vould like to take you up on your offer for dinner,” Kurt said after a minute. He gave a small smile and leaned down to scoop up the rose.
Warren’s heart could’ve burst out of his chest at the adorable situation. Kurt’s shy smile, his darkening cheeks, handing Warren a rose and accepting his unintentional date offer.
“I mean, if you really want to.” Kurt nodded and placed the rose in Warren’s front jacket pocket. The brightly-colored bloom stuck out against the dark leather.
Warren spread his arms and wings. Kurt pressed against him and wrapped his arms around Warren’s neck. He took off into the setting sun towards town, but not before he caught the gaze of a certain Bamf, who winked from behind a tree.
The winged mutant smiled back.
I DON’T KNOW LOL…The idea was cute in my head.
For those who didn’t catch it, Kurt had returned from the mission to find Warren practicing asking him out. (I felt like I didn’t make that clear so here you go)
“Lassen Sie uns spielen gehen!” - “Let’s go play!”
Before I even start, let me just say: you're the one that's good with words.
I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate the way you talked about your shitty private school when we first met. I hate when you tell me to “chill”. I hate when you tell me to check my privilege when you’re the one with the brownstone in Manhattan. I hate that we have Ransom and Holster as d-men to look up to because I hate sundaes and I don’t want to share a “best friend” one with you. I hate when my sister asks if I have a girlfriend and then asks how you’re doing too. I hate that thing you to with your hands that brings me to my knees. I hate that our fighting used to make Chowder sad because that boy never deserves to feel that way. I hate that you eat the last slice of Bitty’s cherry pie before I even leave for the Haus. I hate that you sit on my bed when your roommate sexiles you for the night. I hate that your moms sent me presents for Christmas. I hate “the autumn sky” and “constellations” and the color golden. I hate you. I hate you so much.
I love you. I love you so much. I love how you don’t belittle me for being ignorant, you teach me. I love how you tried to count every stupid freckle on my back that night before my compsci final. I love how you kiss them every time I call them stupid. I love that thing you do with your hands and brings me to my knees. I love that we still argue so much that no one at Samwell believes we’re dating. I love that you let me borrow your clothes when I don’t have enough quarters for laundry that week. I love that we try and fit two 6'2" hockey players into a twin extra large bed. I love your stupid poems. I love that you use cliches to explain my stupid freckles and my red hair because it makes me like myself just a little bit more each time I read them. I love that you don’t care that my family is huge or that I’m not out to them yet. I love you. I love you so much.