throughaphase: (wee: laughing)
Sure, Kitty was waking up in a new bed and there was a boy there. That was important for roughly four seconds.

Because on the approximate fifth second, she'd realized there were puppies in the room, and clearly it was more important to be on the floor and playing with them. And maybe shrieking with glee once or twice when one of them would try to lick her face.

[For the sorta-hubby, to live the lives we as a people deserve for ourselves.]
throughaphase: (what's over here?)
It took Kitty a moment after waking up to realize that she was the right age, that she was still sort of mad about Stiles' Cubs comments, and that she was sleeping on Clint's couch. She hadn't known where she was supposed to live when she was six, so he'd been nice enough to let her stay here. She got up and went to check the time since she had a pretty early class to get to, then decided that she had enough time to clean up a little and make sure that at least dirty dishes were put in the sink or whatever. That was when she saw the certificate she'd made Lucky to tell him he was the best dog ever. Then she found some kind of tape to make sure she could put it on the wall where Lucky could see it, even if he couldn't read it.

And since she was in a relatively good mood due to being all twenty again, she got another piece of paper, and a couple minutes later headed upstairs to Clint's room. She tried to be as quiet as possible, even phasing through the door, trying not to wake him up (if he was sleeping) as she attached something to the wall above the bed.

What. It was that kind of weekend.

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Kitty Pryde-Barton

September 2017

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