The Violet Hour (X-Men AU)

8: What is Minding?

Mother Fucker. 

    I woke up someplace I didn't know. God, the cliches that ran through my mind. I thought this only happened in books when women had slept with an evil hunk the night before, or partied their souls out and crashed in a loser's bed. I was in a loser's bed, but there had been no sex and no partying. 

     The surroundings I felt with my body seemed to place me on a bed that was far more comfortable than my own and a whole lot bigger. My eyes kept fluttering open and shut to beige bed sheets and brown pillows that were soft as hell. The overall lighting in the room was yellow-tinted and it took me a moment to fully adjust, but above the bed was a twinkie advertisement that looked stolen off of a storefront and I knew where I was. Whatever semi-panic I had felt was now gone. 

     I stretched and sat up. I was in Peter's room sleeping sideways on what I assumed was his bed. I rubbed my tired eyes to revive them a bit and when I opened them again I half-gasped. My hair fell on my face as I looked at the room's contents. Stolen road signs lined the walls, next to posters of women on bikes, next to movie posters of recently-out films. I was trying to examine everything but Peter zoomed right to the base of the stairs that lined his room. My head turned to him. 

     "You're awake," he said, pointing at me with a twinkie in his hand. This was his room full of... junk. I looked at him with narrowed eyes and probable bedhead. "I haven't had a girl in my bed in two years." The first comments of the morning were of course revolving around... Peter's virginity. Lovely. I shot him a mocking smile and he put his hands up in pretend surrender. 

     His room was filled with everything you could have imagined. He had at least six bikes in the corner, leaned against traffic cones that were propped up against an arcade machine. He had an entire arcade machine in his room. Across from them was a pile of televisions and a traffic light. I truly had no words for him as I kept staring around his room. There was a ping-pong table folded against the far wall and he had a brown couch in the corner. Some areas were carpeted and others weren't, and hanging next to a rack of jackets was a beaded entrance. 

      The words came to me as I sat there, knees against my chest and in entire awe. "You called me a hoarder when you looked at my records. If I'm a hoarder... Peter, what the fuck are you?" I looked to him with my mouth ajar still. He had his arms folded over his chest and looked strangely triumphant. 

     "Then I am a mega hoarder. I steal what I want and I swear I have a purpose for all of this which I will explain to you later." He answered with his grin. He was in what looked like his form of pyjamas, a Pink Floyd shirt and black cargo bants. Or maybe it just looked casual without the jacket. I was still waking up. My eyes studied his entire room and I drew my eyes all the way back to his bed, which was wooden-framed and had a mirror and lightbulbs attached to it. How the fuck was he not in jail yet? "Good morning, Venus." 

     "Morning," I mumbled back, greatly distracted. Again, there was a loss for words. I remembered back to how exactly I got into this bed and realized I had ended up here out of care and pressed my head to my knees for a brief moment. It was a little embarrassing to dwell on, really, to think of myself that way and to think about him seeing me that way. I raised my head to him, who looked like he was trying to somehow organize his things for me. "Thank you for not letting me try and walk home in my tired state. Where did you sleep?" 

     "The couch is surprisingly comfortable, I didn't mind it so don't worry about it. Nice hair." He grinned and pointed at my hair. I touched my hair and immediately sought out a hair tie to get it in some sort of order. Every time I looked up I couldn't stop finding new things. It was like some ispy picture game. He nearly tripped over one of his bikes as he spoke again. "Oh and I called your mom, so she knows where you are. Do you want breakfast?"