Title: Poor Dickhead

Spoilers: Movie

Type: Movie fic, sorry comic folks

Summary: Wolvie's a little ticked at Cyclops, and he tells us why

Author's Notes: I never read the comic book, but the movie was damn good, damn…

I promised I would stay away from marvel…. oh well. Excelsior! My first Marvel fic:

(I mostly write DC and X-Files)

***

I don't like him.

The dickhead I mean.

Little twerp has his glasses wrapped around his head, a cocky grin slapped on his face. I could kill him in two seconds flat.

I'm quiet tempted to do so, to let the blades come out, take a slash or two, so how he is dead…

But that would be mean.

And I'm not mean.

Sure I'm surly, disagreeable, a pain in the ass, but I'm not mean. I definitely have the tendency to lash out and clamp up real tight. But I'm not mean.

But I'm sorely tempted.

Give me a reason dick, I'll take it in a heartbeat.

This isn't some sort of alpha male disagreement. I'm not planning to stay here that long. Let him preen, prance and act like a fucking teenager, be my guest you little dick.

It's about Jean. I can't blame him, give me a chance and your girl is mine.

Then she definitely wont be your girl. Heh. Logan's girl. How does that sound one-eye, *Logan's* girl.

::sigh:: But I couldn't do that. I wouldn't allow it. It's mean. And I'm not mean.

Cyke is a prick though. His stupid grin. That grin, that tells me he's in control. Yeah, right, how can a guy be in control when he can't open his eyes without killing anyone?

He aint half bad though.

He cares. He tries to protect everyone. He also knows that he can't. But he tries. His eyes screwed so tight, shutdown, clamped closed. His face contorted in agony, not from pain but from the thought that if he opens his eyes, if he opens his eyes…

I don't think about it. Jean wouldn't have a pretty head on her shoulders, that's for sure.

Ever try to keep your eyes closed of your own free will? It's damn hard, lemme tell you. The urge to peek, the urge to crack them open slightly. Cyke has no choice, he's gotta keep his eyes shut. Being stuck, lashed to a wall, head turned toward his girlfriend, and he can't even take a peek around him. He opens his eyes, to look into his girl's, to show her he's all right, to let her know that he wont hurt her, but can't? That's goddam painful.

He's shut his soul. Eyes are the window to the soul.

I can look into a person's eyes, tell what they are thinking, feel their anger, pain, sadness, happiness. But One-eye, one-eye is the one I can't get a read on. I use the eyes to judge a person's motivations. That sense is cut off from me. I can't see what Cyke is thinking. I can't tell. I have his scent, his body language, his words to judge him by, but not his eyes.

Windows to the soul.

Cyke has no soul.

It's cut off, hid away, under layers upon layers of pain, anger, his eyelids, his ruby red glasses.

Poor, poor prick.

And that's why we fight. Why we argue, judge, put Jean in the middle of it all.

Ultimately it's not about Jean

.

It's the fact that I can't see what he's thinking.

I don't trust him. Inherently, if I can't see his intentions, his thoughts through the eyes, I feel lost.

And I'm sorry for that.

Cause I'm not mean.

Just angry, cause I feel sorry for the poor bastard.

***

End

***

FEEEEEEEEEEEDBACK

;)

thanx

-dafnap