The Perfect Gift
Posted on Thu Apr 24th, 2025 @ 3:25pm by Kennedy Kelly & Kurt Wagner
Edited on on Thu Apr 24th, 2025 @ 3:27pm
8,411 words; about a 42 minute read
Mission:
Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: New York City
Timeline: December 24th, 1990
Christmas Eve began as any other day had in recent memory. Kurt and Kennedy had shared their morning coffee together, though today Kurt held a glint that even the golden glow of his eyes couldn’t outshine. The afternoon had been quiet, the kind of stillness that came when the world held its breath before something wonderful. Snow dusted the entire campus, clinging to the evergreens and blanketing the ground in an untouched white expanse. Inside the mansion, everything was alive with holiday preparations—stockings were hung, twinkling lights adorned the grand staircase along with the tall tree that nearly reached the chandelier, and somewhere down the hall, Connor and Rahne were arguing over the proper ratio of marshmallows to hot chocolate.
Kennedy had spent most of the day preoccupied, trying to guess what Kurt’s mysterious surprise could be. He had been so uncharacteristically secretive that morning, grinning over his coffee as he told her she’d have to wait until evening. And then, without further explanation, he was gone.
Just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the faint smell of sulfur curled into the air, and with a sharp bamf, he reappeared right in front of her. The bamf did not prepare her for the Christmas tableau that he presented.
Kurt stood there, beaming, wearing quite possibly the ugliest Christmas sweater she had ever seen. Bright red and green with clashing patterns of snowflakes and candy canes, it even had a row of tiny jingle bells sewn along the hem. Perched atop his head was a Santa hat. The fluffy white pom-pom bounced slightly as he tilted his head toward her.
“Hallo, Kennedy! Mein Geschenk für dich beginnt mit ein bisschen Feiertagsstimmung!” He spread his arms wide, giddy as a schoolboy. “Are you ready for your gift?”
“Am I ready?” Kennedy said with a smile as she lowered her copy of ‘A Christmas Carol’, it had been a Kelly tradition to read the book every year and she appeared to be honoring that while she had been waiting. “I’ve been asking about it since this morning and judging by your attire it should be rather festive. That’s my way of saying yes, I am more than ready.”
“Perfect! Come!” Kurt was so excited that there was nothing to dissuade him. “Grab your coat an’ ve shall go!” He took Kennedy by the hand and whisked her away in a puff of smoke.
In a series of rapid fire teleports that left Kurt out of breath, the comforting scent of pine and cinnamon from the mansion’s holiday decorations was replaced by the icy air of the city that was thick with exhaust, roasted chestnuts, and the mingling fragrances of expensive perfume from passersby.
Snow flurried around them in a chaotic dance, caught in the golden glow of streetlights as they materialized just outside the box office of the Four Seasons. The towering, elegant facade of the hotel loomed behind them, its windows glowing warmly against the cold December night.
The sidewalk was packed—well-dressed theatergoers bundled in wool coats and scarves, last-minute shoppers clutching designer bags, a few children tugging their parents toward the grand holiday displays in the windows nearby. The hustle and bustle of Christmas Eve in the city was in full swing.
"Gott im Himmel, I alvays forget how crowded it gets in ze cities," Kurt said, his voice bright with amusement as his golden eyes flickered over the throng of people. His lips chugged fuming breath at the exertion he'd just undertaken. “Eet is like Munich all over again.”
A few stares lingered on them, mostly at the faint, sulfurous mist that still dissipated around his presence, but the holiday rush left little time for anyone to gawk.
He turned to Kennedy, his fanged grin wide beneath the fuzzy red Santa hat he now wore proudly, the same ugly Christmas sweater peeking out from beneath his trench coat. His tail flicked once beneath his coat, betraying his excitement.
“Vell,” Kurt said expectantly, inviting Kennedy to look around and take in the sight before they went any further. “Here it is. Vhat do you zhink?”
“Of the city?” She looked around at the busy street and the front doors to the luxury hotel. “It’s nice, I like how decorated everything is.” Kennedy seemed a little confused by what they were actually doing here.
Kurt’s grin widened, his excitement undampened even as Kennedy remained a touch confused. “Nein… zhis,” he said, gesturing grandly toward the theater’s marquee.
Kennedy followed his motion, her gaze landing on the glowing sign above the entrance. The Nutcracker—a holiday classic. “The ballet?”
“I remember you telling me zat it vas your first ballet. I zhought, vhat better vay to spend Christmas Eve?” Kurt replied.
“But this sells out before Thanksgiving and I’m not dressed for the theater.” There was a touch of disbelief and concern in her voice as the reality of the situation began to creep in. Kurt had definitely surprised Kennedy but it was hard to tell if she liked being surprised.
Kurt’s grin turned slightly sheepish. “Ah, vell, I vas not able to acquire—how do you say—conventional seating,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, without another word, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “But I did make, shall ve say, osther arrangements.”
Before Kennedy could respond, the familiar rush of air and the brief sensation of weightlessness enveloped them as he bamfed them away from the busy sidewalk.
In an instant, the sounds of the bustling city were replaced by the muted hum of anticipation within the grand theater. The scent of evergreen garlands and candle wax mingled with the faintest trace of Kurt’s brimstone as they reappeared high above the audience, nestled securely within the shadows of the rafters.
“Zhis,” Kurt said proudly, settling in beside her, “is our own opera box.” He unclasped his trench coat and, with a flourish, draped it over Kennedy’s shoulders to keep her warm. “After a fashion… eet is not quite so lavish as ze osthers below.”
Kennedy leaned forward and looked down, once upon a time she would have been afraid of such a high and precarious position, but since she started training with Kurt she had become more comfortable with being so far above the ground. The crowds below them were oblivious to their presence. The same could be said for the orchestra pit where the musicians tuned and warmed up while waiting for the conductor. The stage was slightly below them but they could still see it front and center.
“But how? Why?” She still seemed stunned by the sudden chain of events. “I’m sorry I’m just a little surprised, I wasn’t expecting anything like this.” Kennedy shook her head in disbelief but eventually remembered some of her manners. “It’s lovely, thank you, Kurt.”
“Do you like it?” Kurt asked. “Truly? I azzisted ze stage crew in transporting zheir heavy equipment. In exchange zhey offered me ze best seat in ze house…” Kurt's grin turned lopsided. “...or so I vas told.”
“Yes, I like it very much.” Kennedy’s voice softened with a touch of emotion. Kurt had listened to her and taken a comment in passing and turned into something real. He had come here and traded his time and labor for unconventional seats to a sold out performance. No one had ever done something so sincere and thoughtful for her.
Looking down below them, he let out a whistle. “I’m inclined to beliefe zhey vere right.” He turned back to Kennedy with a hopeful expression. "Frohe Weihnachten, meine sehr gute Freundin!” Merry Christmas, my very good friend!
In that moment she wanted to kiss Kurt, to wrap her arms around his neck while showing him how happy he made her. Kennedy wanted him to know how he made her heart flutter, how he managed to make her smile after being so sad, how he was her favorite person at the mansion, and how she thought his golden eyes were beautiful.
But then she listened to his words and the snippets of broken German she had picked up on rang in her ears.
Friend.
Kennedy was his friend, a position that justified his actions but unwarranted her own. He had done this wonderful, considerate thing because she was his friend and he wanted her to have a happy Christmas.
“It really is wonderful, Kurt.” She joined him by looking down at the stage and admiring the view. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a better seat.”
“Ah, I hef never had a different zheatre seat, so zhere’s nosthingk else to compare.” Kurt's excitement finally began to expend itself, putting his personal vibe down to a low roar. “Still, I cannot imagine anyvhere better zhan right here.”
Although his tone was festive and his body poised in preparation for the show, something about the merry glint in his yellow eyes projected an unbidden sentiment. Maybe it was just the reflection of the house lights that made his retinas glimmer. In his eyes Kennedy saw joy, relief, and…affection?
“I am so happy zhat you like it.” Kurt put a full shoulder shrug into his sigh of relief. “I vas vorried zhat perhaps it vas too much, ah…” His eyes darted sideways as he pondered the right words. “...ze gesture too forvard. Not everybody vould vant to be dragged out into ze night on Christmas Eve.”
“I have nowhere else to be…” Kennedy replied a little too quickly, she winced at her own comment before quickly correcting herself. “I mean, there is no place else I would rather be.” He watched her frazzle a little, normally Kennedy was so collected and cool, she was confident and strong willed but sometimes he saw her blush or fluster from saying the wrong things with him.
“I like it, Kurt, I promise.” She said before looking down at her swinging feet. Kennedy finally noticed his tail was wrapped around her waist, a subtle lifeline in case she were to slip and fall. She thought about the metaphor in the gesture, Kurt had saved her from the Hellfire Club soon after he arrived and he told her to ‘hold tight’. That request apparently had never stopped. Kennedy reached out and caressed the length of his tail with a single slow pass of her hand. When she finished he realized how incredibly inappropriate that had been.
“Sorry,” she blurted out before placing both her hands firmly on the beam they were sitting on.
“For vhat?” Kurt asked before thinking of what Kennedy could possibly have meant. When his eyes caught her hands shifting away from him, he realized her mistake. “Oh, nein, Kennedy, do not be sorry.”
Their acrobatics training was very close quarters and required the utmost trust between them. When life and death were only millimeters apart, there was no room for doubt and apprehension. There was only unity. Despite the austere theater below them, their position was not so different from a trapeze.
Kurt reached across Kennedy's lap and returned her hand to the length of his tail wrapped around her waist, then took her free hand in his and grasped it tightly.
“Zhere. Now neizher of us are going anyvhere.” He gave her hand an affirming squeeze. “I vill never let go,” he said, grinning while staring at her with that added glimmer to his glowing eyes. “I promise.”
His words were reminiscent of something that Jace had once told her, another promise in a savage land to never let her go. That thought made her stomach flip for a multitude of reasons. Kennedy wasn’t sure what she wanted from Kurt and she also wasn’t sure what he wanted from her.
There were times when they touched or when their eyes met and the feelings between them were undeniable. Then there were times when he appeared unable to see what was happening between them and Kennedy was unsure if that was intentional or not.
She pivoted in her seat so that she could look at him a little better before she spoke. “Kurt, I want to…”
Kennedy’s desires were cut short as the lights went out in the theater and the orchestra began to play. The ballet began and the environment suddenly became less than ideal for any form of conversation.
“Oh my!” Kurt gasped with childlike wonder as the music rose up to the rafters and enveloped them.
“Nevermind,” she whispered before turning her attention back towards the stage and the Christmas show.
“Isn't zhis wunderbar?!” Kurt grinned with glee as the performers took to the stage.
“Yes,” Kennedy agreed with him in a soft whisper that had a touch of melancholy to it. Her head was spinning from the last few minutes and she was grateful for the distraction the ballet provided.
Tchaikovsky’s classic unfolded before them as a young girl named Clara, is given a wooden Nutcracker doll as a gift on Christmas Eve. As the night unfolds, the Nutcracker magically comes to life and transforms into a prince. Together, Clara and the Nutcracker embarked on a fantastical journey to the Land of Sweets, where they encounter various characters, such as the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Snow Queen, each represented by different dances.
The ballet was whimsical and colorful as the sets and dancers filled the stage. It was beautifully composed and orchestrated so that the audience felt transported to a world of fantasy and make believe.
Kennedy was eerily still at first but as she watched and listened her body betrayed her and she found herself lost in ballet. Kurt noticed she occasionally bobbed her head in time with the music while her toe pointed or her fingers twitched in a subtle matching manner to the choreography. She knew this whole ballet, every role and every step was memorized. There was something so beautifully freeing in the way Kennedy loved to dance, anytime Kurt witnessed it it was like he saw her heart, her soul.
As the ballet finished and the dancers stepped out for their applause, Kennedy finally let go of Kurt’s hand and she joined in and began to clap with the rest of the audience.
“So, what did you think?” she asked Kurt with a knowing smile.
Kurt’s golden eyes gleamed as he turned to Kennedy, his smile wide and filled with childlike delight. “It vas… magnificent! I hef seen Der Nussknacker before, but never like zhis.” He gestured toward the stage, still buzzing with applause and the fading echoes of Tchaikovsky’s score. “Ze orchestra, ze dancers, each part more wunderbar zhan ze last. But I must confess,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I almost feel as if zhis vas more a gift for me zhan for you.” The joy in his words showed it was only a joke rather than a true statement of guilt. “Und you? Vas it as good as you remember?”
“I love it, each theatre troop puts their own little spin on it and that’s always fun to see. It’s familiar and novel all at the same time,” Kennedy said with a content little sigh. Her head was in the clouds after watching the ballet. “I always wanted to perform the Arabian Dance, it’s not as prestigious as the Sugar Plum Fairy but the amount of athleticism for that dance… if I could pick one it would be that.”
She smiled as he spoke about how much he enjoyed the ballet. “I’m glad you liked it, it's dear to me so to hear that makes me happy.”
Kurt’s tail twitched slightly, an unconscious flick of movement betraying the sudden shift in his thoughts. He could see it—the tight control, the elegant power of the Arabian Dance, and Kennedy at its center, moving with the same effortless grace he had witnessed in her before. But something different stirred within him. It wasn’t the same detached admiration he held for the art of performance. No, this was something else entirely.
He cleared his throat, shaking off the strange, unfamiliar tug at his chest. “Ah, ja… you vould be… exceptional,” he said, his voice faltering slightly before he smoothed it out. He turned toward her with a warm smile back into place. “Ze athleticism, ze precision—it suits you. But zhen, I suppose any dance vould, given your natural talent.”
Kurt’s gaze softened as he looked upon her, the way her face lit up just talking about the ballet. His mind drifted back to her performance of The Dying Swan, the raw emotion she had poured into every movement, the way it had stolen the breath from his lungs. He wasn’t sure she even realized it, but when she danced, she bared something deeply personal, something so true and so real.
It made his smile take on a more thoughtful note. “You know, performers… ze best ones, at least… zhey reveal pieces of themselves to ze vorld in vays zhey never could vith vords. Zhat is vhy it is so moving—because it is honest.” He gave a small nod for emphasis. “Und I must say, Kennedy, your Dying Swan—eet vas… ach, how do I put it?” He hesitated, his mind fumbling for the right words. “It vas like seeing a part of you few people ever get to see.” His golden eyes met hers then, open and sincere. “Und I vas honored to vitness it.” He grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze along with an affirming clap with his other hand. “I am so glad ve did zhis. Who else is zhere to share such an experience?”
“You’re too kind, Kurt.” She looked down to better hide the pink blush of her cheeks, dancing had become something incredibly personal for Kennedy. It was part of the reason why she danced so early in the morning and that so few had seen her do it. But Kurt had watched her and had adored what he had seen, it created a different type of intimacy with him. “You should see my solo from Cinderella one of these days, it’s much better.”
It was a subtle invitation for him to join her in the gym once more. After the first time, when he had stumbled on her dancing on accident, Kurt had not returned to see her dance again. Maybe it was because he considered it a private activity that he wasn’t necessarily invited to or maybe he just hadn’t really thought about going back again but the way he spoke about it, it made Kennedy feel like he wanted to see her and to know more about her.
“This is if you have time… it’s early and I’m sure you’re busy…” Her insecurities with Kurt got the best of her and she suddenly felt stupid for asking him to attend. Of course he was occupied with something better to do than watching someone else practice ballet each morning.
“Truly?” Kurt's fangs accented the way he bit his lip. “I vould not vant to intrude. You are so delightful, zhough, und it vould be somezhingk else to discuss over our coffee.” The way he said the word conveyed just how much he looked forward to that morning ritual as well. So much joy and glee was wrapped in casual subtlety. “Und I am sure you practice ze dance every morning as you do acrobatics, tumbling, archery…” Kurt trailed off as he realized that his sarcasm was actually hitting quite close to him. “Ah, ja,” he chuckled, “of course you do!”
“Maybe some other time then.” Kennedy sheepishly acknowledged his rejection to join her, once again she had gone too far and assumed too much of him. She found it so hard to gauge where their boundaries were, she usually seemed to find them only when she overstepped them. Kurt had his own life, his own plans, like finding and getting reacquainted with Wanda.
Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion. He hadn't declined, he was graciously accepting the invitation. Had he misspoken? Before he could clarify, Kennedy continued.
“You’re right, I don’t have a teacher anymore. It’s just me trying to remember old routines or ad lib to the music. It’s more for exercise than anything else.” He liked the stage and the performing arts but that didn’t mean he needed to see her dance in the gym back home. Kennedy felt stupid all over again. “It looks like everyone is starting to leave… I guess we should get going too.”
“Oh.” Kurt looked visibly deflated despite his best attempts to hide it. The evening had drawn to a close altogether too soon. “Ja, I suppose ve should…”
What had he been expecting? Kennedy was as good as royalty in America. It might be fun slumming it with a pauper friend, but in the end that's all Kurt was. It was all he could ever be. Kennedy was destined for a distinguished scion like Herr Warren or even Drew who were born into the same echelons of society as she was. When she found her noble suitor, Kurt would be there rejoicing for her. Happy as could be. Free of envy. What a day that would be…
“Back to ze mansion, zhen?” Kurt asked. It would be a late meal if there to find somewhere that was open and suitable for the great evening they had just shared. "Wollen wir eine Kleinigkeit essen?" he asked, his nervous request to grab a bite together coming out in his native German.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand what you said.” Kennedy smirked a little “I think I’ve picked up about half a dozen German words because you say them often but none of those are them.”
“I know… Gott im Himmel…” Her accent was atrocious but there was something cute about the way Kennedy attempted to speak German. “Of course zhere is, ja?”
She laughed a little and leaned forward to face him more, this game of remembering his common phrases seemed to amuse her. “I was once freundin but now I’m liber freund.”
Kennedy paused and looked at him, her eyes were such a dazzling blue. He normally saw a touch of sadness in them but tonight that sorrow was gone. It made her eyes that much brighter and more inviting.
“But most importantly... Kurt.” She said his name like a native German would, the American vowels removed until only the soft syllables remained.
Whatever apprehension Kurt had been feeling melted away at Kennedy's winsome and atrocious attempts at German. She did get a few of the enunciations correct but it still held all the butchered Anglophilia that was typical of Americans. And he loved every moment of it.
“I said,” Kurt repeated with a knowing grin, “zhat perhaps ve should get a bite to eat first... before returning to ze mansion, zhat is.” He quickly offered her an out though. “If you are tired or not hungry or simply wish to be alone, zhen I can take you back right avay. Straight home, of course.”
“I’m hungry,” she said a bit too eagerly before calming and collecting herself. “I wouldn’t mind a late dinner. I’m not tired or anything.” Kennedy shook her head and finally realized how close they were to one another. They had both learned forward until the space between them was scant. But she didn’t want to pull away, so she remained. “We’re in New York City on Christmas Eve, we should take advantage of that.”
Kurt’s eyes lit up the moment she agreed, his smile returning in full force, though a trace of bashfulness still lingered at the edges. “Ja? Truly?” he asked, as though needing confirmation that she truly wanted to spend more time with him—just him—on such a night. The tension in his shoulders eased, his tail giving a small, delighted flick under his coat.
“Zhen… wunderbar!” he beamed, leaning back slightly in his seat now that her answer had settled his nerves. But then, reality crept in, and he glanced out toward the city beyond the theater walls, golden eyes narrowing slightly in thought.
"Now, uh..." Kurt chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as his fangs peeked out in a sheepish grin, "I am not entirely sure vhere to go for such a special night as Christmas Eve. I vas so focused on surprising you vith zhis,” he gestured toward the now emptying theater, “I did not think to plan ze next step."
He looked back at Kennedy, his grin turning playful again, though there was a genuine vulnerability in the way he awaited her response.
“Ve could… I don’t know,” he said with a laugh, clearly flustered but enjoying himself all the same, “hop around ze city until ve find somezhingk? Let destiny decide, ja?” He tilted his head, watching her intently, as though trying to gauge her reaction. “Unless…” he ventured, a bit more cautious now, "you know of a good place? I vould be happy to follow your lead." He gestured with a slight bow of his head, ever the gentleman.
“We can walk around and find something, this is a huge city.” Kennedy returned his smile as Kurt became so animated and enthusiastic. It was easy for him to become excited over the small things and she loved that about him. “There is always Chinese food if we can’t find anything else.”
Kennedy offered her hand to him, a small gesture that actually meant a lot. “Come on, let’s go.”
The world reassembled itself in a puff of sulfur and frost-laced night air as they materialized right at the edge of Rockefeller Center. A thousand Christmas lights cast their dazzling glow of warm gold and silver hues over the bustling crowds.
The Christmas tree loomed before them, a living constellation of glittering lights and ornaments, towering high above the plaza. Carolers gathered beneath it, their voices rising in a merry blend of song and laughter. The air was filled with a harmony that somehow managed to hush the usual din of the city. It was like magic—the kind of magic that had nothing to do with mutant powers, just holiday cheer and wonder.
Kurt beamed at Kennedy, his eyes wide like a boy seeing Christmas for the first time. "Zhis," he said, sweeping his hand dramatically toward the tree, "vas definitely a good choice.”
After all the teleporting and the long performance at the theater, Kurt’s stomach let out a growl. He led Kennedy toward the nearest hotdog vendor, whose cart steamed in the cold. "Not quite schnitzel," Kurt added, grinning as stood in the short line, "but I zhink it vill, how you say, hit ze spot?”
“Oh sure, I think the last time I had a hot dog was during the summer.” It wasn’t fancy but it was hot and ready to eat which made it all the more appealing. “Plus the scenery is beautiful.”
As they stood side by side eating, the next song began to swell from the carolers—”O Tannenbaum,” which was a German folk song popular around Christmas time.
Kurt's eyes lifted to the tree as the familiar melody filled the air, his smile softening. Without even realizing it at first, he hummed along quietly, then began to sing, his rich accent coloring the German lyrics.
"O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum, wie treu sind deine Blätter..."
His voice was not in perfect tune—charming, maybe, but definitely off-key. But that didn’t stop him from getting into the familiar verse. As he caught Kennedy watching him, his eyes widened slightly. His ears turned dark red at the tips, and he let out a sheepish laugh, looking down and tugging at his scarf.
"Ach… I am… sorry," he murmured, slightly flustered. "I forget God has not graced me vith an angel voice like so many osthers." His fangs peeked out in a shy grin.
“It’s not the voice but the intention behind it,” Kennedy said, “Besides, your German is much better and it makes the lyrics sound more… authentic.”
That made Kurt cant his head sideways as he chewed on that a moment. He'd not considered it that way before.
Kennedy thought about her next comment and Kurt watched her build up the nerve for what she was about to say. “I like it when you speak German, I’ve never heard it spoken for extended periods of time and when I have heard it, it’s usually being shouted in war movies. But when you speak, it’s not harsh or angry. I find it rather euphonious.”
Kurt’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of blue at Kennedy’s words, his bashful grin widening. He glanced down at first as if trying to hide it. Eventually his glowing eyes flicked back up to her, touched by her sincerity.
“Danke, Kennedy,” said softly. "I never zhought of it zhat way. German is not like… French or Italian, ja? Not one of ze Romance languages. But perhaps beauty is in ze ear of ze listener as in ze eye of ze beholder, ja?" His tail flicked lightly behind him, betraying his lingering delight.
Still smiling, Kurt leaned back a little and let himself relax as he glanced toward the giant tree again, its lights reflecting in his eyes. As the carolers continued, he quietly began humming along again, finding the melody with ease. After a few moments, his voice, still a little shy but warm, joined in—singing a few lines in German, more softly this time. But then the carolers shifted to English lyrics.
“Do you know ze English version?” Kurt asked on a spontaneous whim. His twinning eyes suggested where he was going with the question.
“I do…” She glanced over at him and could tell that answer wasn’t sufficient. With a small sigh of defeat she joined the carolers.
Not only green when summer's here
But also when it's cold and drear
O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree
Thy leaves are so unchanging
Kennedy sang in a sweet mezzo-soprano voice before embarrassment took over and she chuckled and stopped. “I’m not much of a singer either, maybe we should leave it to the professionals to serenade us while we eat.”
Kurt had watched Kennedy as she sang, his smile growing softer with each word. There was a lightness in her voice that tugged at something deep inside him, and for those few precious seconds, it felt like the entire city around them faded into a soft blur.
When she stopped and laughed at herself, Kurt couldn’t help but join in with a quiet chuckle of his own, but his eyes were still warm with admiration.
Before he could say anything, they reached the front of the line. The vendor, bundled against the cold with a scarf nearly swallowing his chin, gave them a quick, expectant look.
“Two, bitte,” Kurt said politely, slipping back into German before correcting himself. “Ah—two, please.” He handed over some bills, a bit more than he expected for street food, and blinked when the vendor pocketed it all without offering any change.
Kurt arched a brow but accepted it with a quiet "Danke" and a nod as the vendor gestured them aside toward the condiments, already waving up the next customers.
As they shuffled to the little counter, Kurt handed Kennedy her hot dog with a bit of a smirk, still amused at the exchange. "Hm. I zhink we just bought ze most expensive hotdogs in all of New York," he teased.
But then, softer, as passed on the mustard bottle, he glanced sidelong at her and smiled more tenderly.
"Und by ze way," Kurt said, tilting his head slightly toward her. "You hef a beautiful voice, Kennedy. Das freut mich zu hören. Truly. All you are missing are cherub wings to match it.”
“I was an angel for Halloween,” Kennedy joked before taking a bite of her food. “But thank you, like you said, there are lots of people with good singing voices so I guess it’s nice to be considered one of them.” She examined her hot dog for a moment, “Why does it taste so good? It’s not supposed to be this good.”
Kurt let out a small, amused grunt as he took a hearty bite, chewing contentedly. "Mmm," he hummed, half-laughing as he talked around a mouthful of food. It was something he normally would’ve never done, but tonight felt easy, casual. “I understand now vhy zhey charge so much. Zhis…” he gestured with the hot dog before taking another bite. After swallowing, he added with a playful smirk, “Maybe zhey even gave us a discount, because zis is too good for just tourists.” His eyes twinkled for a second, but then they softened as he glanced at her again. “Or perhaps, it is ze company zhat makes it memorable, hm?” His tone turned gentler, earnest beneath the teasing.
“It has to be some company if it can make a New York hot dog cart taste good.” She returned his jest with her own before taking another bite.
When Kennedy glanced over at him, she could see how he was savoring every bite, eating his hotdog plain—no ketchup, no mustard, no sauerkraut, nothing. Just bread and sausage, and yet he seemed to enjoy it like it was a rare treat.
“You really do appreciate the simple things, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question that necessarily needed to be answered, it was more that Kennedy was getting to know him better. Paying attention to not just his words but his actions and then noticing the trends she discovered in Kurt.
For most of her life, Kennedy had never wanted or needed anything. Her life had been filled with excess and extravagance. But walking next to the Rockefeller tree, eating cheap hot dogs with Kurt she was truly happy and he saw it in her smile.
“Ja,” Kurt agreed with a half nod, half shrug, “ze simple zhings often cannot be purchased. Zhey must be found or built or won. Vhy not enjoy zhem as ze true vealth of zhis vorld?”
It had been a long time since he felt this light. Since laughter and warmth felt natural instead of forced. Since someone had chosen to be here with him, and not out of obligation. As he finished off the last of his hotdog, brushing his fingers together like a man finishing a fine meal, he turned to her fully, that playful smirk softening into something far more genuine.
"You know..." he began, tucking his hands into his coat pockets to keep them warm, "I hef not had a night like zhis in… a very long time."
He let that truth hang for a moment, unashamed but quieter, as though saying it aloud made him realize it even more.
Then, with a lighter smile returning, he tipped his head toward her, eyes twinkling again. "I zhink your hotdog idea vas brilliant. Maybe ve should make zhis a tradition, hm? Every year—Christmas Eve, ballet, hotdogs under ze tree?"
“I’d like that,” Kennedy said before she paused and considered something. The thought caused her to look away and examine her shoes. “But Wanda may want to do something different. She has a brother after all, I’m sure they don’t really want to eat hot dogs in the snow on Christmas Eve.”
That very suggestion made Kurt guffaw from deep in his gullet. “Aha! Oh, Kennedy, ze zhought of Pietro eating a hotdog in ze snow is so funny!”
Once he'd let the humorous moment pass, he began to see her point. “Vanda loves ze zheatre. I am sure she could come vith us. If you become attached, zhen I am sure he could be ze same. Und if not…” Kurt shrugged. “Zhis vas a good gift, ja? It vould be hard to top. I zhink eet is a good tradition as vell…even if only for ze two of us.”
“Maybe,” Kennedy replied with all the forced optimism she could muster. Based on how Kurt talked about Wanda and how starry eyed he became at the mere thought of her, it didn’t seem like he was interested in just being her friend, especially if Wanda felt the same way. The idea of being a couple’s third wheel was rather depressing especially when she was starting to feel the way that she did. “I guess we’ll just have to take it as it comes… Who knows? You might be on Asteroid M next Christmas. You could do me a favor and punch Maestro in the face while you're there.”
The very thought of that triggered Kurt’s gag reflex. “Asteroid M? Vith zhat maniac? He is…!” He realized he started talking far too loudly. Looking around to make sure he hadn’t garnered any undue attention, he lowered his tone to above a whisper, though it failed to mask his disdain. “He is a madman, zhat Magneto. If not for Pietro, zhen Vanda never vould hef followed him to ze gates of hell and beyond. He manipulated her. I saw it heppen. She regretted it because she is a good person. Und…”
Common sense finally reasserted itself, having screamed into the back of Kurt’s brain to shut up for the past moment. “... und you vere only teasing, ja?”
“Ja,” Kennedy said with an impish little smirk as she finished her hot dog and threw away the trash.
He shook his head at himself. “Entschuldigung, my apologies, I became carried avay vith… zhat.” After a deep, calming breath, Kurt offered the same bashful smile he had been flashing all night. “Tonight vas supposed to be about ze good zhings in zhis world… like ze ballet und ze orchestra und…” Kurt bit his lip before continuing. “... mein liebling Kennedy.”
“Lie-bling?” She repeated the word very slowly, just like Kurt did when he was trying to learn a new word. Kurt changed his identifying nouns so often when he spoke to Kennedy that it was hard for her to keep track of them. “What does that one mean?”
That question gave Kurt pause. It was a word so full of nuance that it was difficult to explain to a non-native speaker. The root was liebe, of course, which means love. As an adjective, which was how he used it, liebling denoted a personal favorite. But, as a noun, particularly one of address, it meant “my dear” or even “my darling,” two things that Kurt would never use of Kennedy. Or would he? Never was so long, almost like… forever.
Kurt dry-swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away with brightened cheeks. “Ah, it can mean, uh, a great many zhings,” Kurt said honestly. “Generally speaking… eet is somezhingk you vould say to, eh, a… loved one.” His gaze darted back to Kennedy, golden eyes meeting blue. “Taken literally, you could say I called you my favorite.”
She stopped walking when he said that and a look of wide eyed surprise came over her face. Kurt had always danced around or even ignored whatever was building between them. So much so, that it made Kennedy question whether or not she was delusional for having any type of feelings for him. But now, to hear him say that he placed her above all others, that she was his preferred person, it broke whatever restraint she once had and a flood of heart fluttering emotions overcame her.
“You’re my favorite too,” Kennedy replied and suddenly they were both red cheeked and bashful. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as her impulsive thoughts took over.
She leaned in and kissed him, a hurried and flutter soft press of her lips to his that felt so innocent yet so charged and wanting. Before it really started, Kurt felt her fear and doubts take over and she pulled back sharply.
Kurt stood frozen in place, his mouth slightly ajar, golden eyes wide as if Kennedy had just done something miraculous — which, in a way, she had. The kiss itself, soft as a whisper, had caught him so completely off guard that he hadn't even responded — not from rejection but from sheer disbelief that she would want to kiss him. Him, of all people.
By the time his brain caught up with reality, Kennedy had already pulled back, her cheeks flushed crimson, eyes darting anywhere but at him as she stammered out her apology.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Kennedy placed her hand over her mouth as she looked absolutely mortified by what she had done. “That’s not fair to you…”
But the impact of the fleeting moment was not lost on him. Kennedy smelled like expensive vanilla as she invaded Kurt’s personal space. Then there was the way that her head tilted as she leaned in, it created such elegant lines of her jaw and neck. Plus the feel of her lips against his own, there was an undeniable spark that was shared between them that made them both wonder what more would feel like.
Her words hit harder than they should have. Fair to him? Kurt blinked rapidly, gathering himself as a dozen thoughts rushed through his head, fast and heavy. Wanda’s name echoed in the corners of his mind, a distant ghost that refused to be forgotten.
“I’m so sorry… please forget that ever happened.” Kennedy apologized once more as she spoke to the sidewalk.
But then there was Kennedy—warm, real, here—looking like she wanted to disappear into the pavement. He couldn't bear that.
"Kennedy..." Kurt finally said, softly, more breath than voice. He swallowed, summoning a gentle smile. "Bitte… zhere is no need to apologize. Truly."
But how to say what he meant? It was the narrowest tightrope he had ever walked in his life.
"You... you are very dear to me," he said quietly, his golden eyes meeting hers with sincere warmth. "Und vhat you did... vas no offense. It is..." He paused, fumbling for the right word, something lighter to ease her heart. "It is a kindness I vill long remember."
His gaze dropped for a brief moment, smile bittersweet. "Tonight has been... more zhan I ever expected. I vould not trade a moment of it for all ze vorld."
When he looked back at her, his smile grew more sure, though still laced with a quiet sadness that only he understood. "But please, do not think me upset, or zhat you hef done wrong. It is… a comfort to know I am so cared for by you."
Kurt took a soft breath and adjusted his coat like the nervous tic it was. “Could ve please remember tonight as vone of joy. A night of ballet und music und... laughter, ja?"
There it was—an open hand to her, a way forward that didn’t deny what had happened but framed it safely. A moment cherished and not shamed. He chuckled gently, glancing up toward the massive Rockefeller Christmas tree. "A night I vill treasure, always."
“Yeah, okay.” Kennedy nodded her head in agreement but there wasn’t much Kurt could do or say that would have made this moment any easier. Kennedy wasn’t sure what she wanted to do more, crawl under a rock and die, throw up before sobbing uncontrollably, or run away and never to be seen again. Of course Kurt would be nice about this, he was nice about everything.
In the end he appeared to be doing exactly what she had asked of him, forgetting that this had ever happened. Now if only she could do the same. As they walked down 50th she noticed the tall white steeples that made up St. Patrick’s Cathedral. They had mentioned it in passing over a month ago, now Kennedy saw it as a good opportunity to get away from her terrible snafu.
“Do you want to go to midnight mass?” Kennedy asked while checking the time on her delicate gold watch. “They always host it on Christmas Eve and we have twenty minutes until it starts.”
Kurt’s head whipped around to her, his eyes wide with surprise that was quickly overtaken by a glowing expression of wonder. "Truly?" he breathed, as if she had just offered him a rare and priceless gift. "You vould go vith me?"
Without waiting for her to answer—because to Kurt, the mere suggestion was as good as a yes—there was a sudden bamf. The world spun for half a heartbeat, and before Kennedy could fully process the teleportation, they stood at the grand steps of the nearby St. Patrick's Cathedral, right before the massive entrance doors. The towering Gothic facade of the cathedral rose before them, its spires reaching up into the dark, snowy night. Great bronze doors loomed with carvings of religious scenes wrought in fine detail that glowed under the soft yellow lamps mounted on either side of the entryway.
"Come," he said gently, offering his arm like a gentleman. "Before zhey fill up."
Together they stepped through the heavy doors into the vast, vaulted interior of the cathedral. The warmth hit them first as a merciful relief from the biting cold outside. Inside the cathedral was breathtaking. Rows upon rows of pews filled with worshippers stretched toward the ornate marble altar, which glowed under flickering candlelight and the shimmer of gold accents. The stained glass windows cast faint colors onto the smooth stone floor, though muted now in the nighttime.
Kurt led Kennedy carefully down a side aisle a few rows from the front where there was still room.
“Hef you ever been to Midnight Mass?” he whispered over the hum of the pipe organ as other people found their seats.
“A few times, but mainly when it was convenient for my father’s publicity. These past few years he was so busy and trending so well that we did not attend.” Kennedy scooted into pew as she took off her coat before she settled in and looked around the cathedral. Like most major holidays, it was packed. “But I always liked going at this time of the year, the message was always optimistic.”
Kurt could only nod enthusiastically. That was one of his reasons for loving the Christmas season as well.
“I would ask you but I think you went to mass everyday, I think more than once.” Kennedy said with a chuckle, “but I’m glad we get to see the inside of this place, it is beautiful.”
“Uh…ja und nein,” Kurt said, looking askance. “Ja, ze Eucharist vas taken every day but zhat vas… vell, I vould call it casual if I could get avay vith zhat description.” He chuckled at his own reticence to speak plainly about his old life. “Major feasts und Days of Holy Obligations are much more elaborate, like Christmas, Easter, und ze Feast of St. Francis. Zhere is so much more from ze liturgy to ze decoration. Pomp and circumstance, I vould say but not too loudly.”
Looking around him, it was clear to see that St. Patrick’s was far and away superior to that for which Kurt was accustomed. “I hef been to many cathedrals but… not during a Major Feast such as Christ’s Mass.” An unusual look came over him, like a mixture of nostalgia and confusion. “Schön…” he mumbled in German before following up with the English. “Just beautiful.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Und I never vould hef seen it if…”
“You hadn’t decided to go on an adventure?” Kennedy attempted to complete his sentence with the most ambiguous and benign description she could come up with. She was done with mentioning Wanda or any other topics that evoked too many emotions in either one of them. She had already embarrassed herself enough for one night so she picked the safest option.
“Ja, you could say zhat,” Kurt agreed. “Better to give zhan to receive, give und it shall be given unto you. I zhink you Americans say, ‘Vone good turn deserves anosther’?” The whole train of thought brought another toothy grin to Kurt’s face. “So had I not taken you to ze zheatre, zhen ve vould not hef seen ze Tree of All Trees, und ve vould not be here now.” He couldn’t help but squeeze Kennedy’s hand in the new round of excitement he felt. “I suppose I am just not accustomed to many zhings going right all in a chain. Not like now. Zhis is good.”
“I’m glad you’re having a Merry Christmas, I am too.” Kennedy was still ashamed of her behavior but she was trying to make light of it. Aside from her moment of stupidity it really had been a nice night together, it was a sweet mixture of what they both loved and the other finding delight in it too.
As the crowd’s attention turned towards the pulpit, Kennedy noticed that Kurt’s tail had wrapped around her ankle in an absent minded and casual manner. Tonight had definitely been a confusing evening for her and if pressed to define what was happening between her and Kurt she probably wouldn’t be able to answer.
She felt a tug on her heartstrings as she pondered all of this but sensibility took over and she stuffed down whatever was trying to come to the surface. She’d think about all of this later, for now she would let it be as an unspoken question. As the organ boomed and began to play the opening hymn, Kennedy stood and joined in with the rest of the congregation making sure to keep her eyes forward rather than looking at Kurt while she sang.
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