Author's note: Hey folks! Here's another one from my crazy mind, and yup, I'm torturing a whole new set of characters! Yaaaaaaay!
I know, I know, there's not much to it, and not many of you will know what's going on, but then that's sort of the point of a teaser, ain't it? I don't really expect to get many readers with this story, but those who do read, please do review! Let me know what you think! ^^
Disclaimer: I do not own Xmen Evolution, nor any of their adorable characters. All concerned belong to Marvel comics, their masterful teams of artists and writers, and the ever darling and wonderful Stan Lee!
Star Stories
Camille shifted restlessly in her sleeping bag, staring blankly up at the top of the tent. She hated enclosed spaces, hated feeling stuck in one spot. Trying desperately to focus on something, anything
else, she turned her face in the direction of the girls nestled to her right. Nothing bothering them, it seemed. They were all snugged happily into their sleeping bag cocoons, breathing a little symphony of snores.
She squeezed her eyes shut again, willing herself to drop to sleep before she started hyperventilating. Maybe if she...no, absolutely not, she'd never had to resort to that childish trick to get to sleep before, and she sure as heck wasn't about to start now. Besides, she hated sheep. Stupid creatures, never willing to think for themselves, always following whoever just happened to be in front of them, regardless of the potential for danger. No more stupid sheep.
Casting mentally about, she seized upon reflecting on the events of the day. The hike hadn't been as bad as she'd expected. It had actually been quite beautiful, and so far she had sustained only three bug bites. Two on her legs and one on her...well never mind that one, she'd much rather not think about it. Served her right for wearing such tight shorts, what had she been thinking when she picked them out this morning? The quick memory of slate-blue eyes twinkling and a crooked, fanged grin reminded her...oh, yes...that was why. Cue another uncomfortable wriggle.
A sense of warm pride crept in to keep her company as she remembered her victorious first campfire. How many rookie campers could say they got a campfire started on the first try? 'Not many, I'll bet!', she thought smugly. Now the tent...that was entirely another matter. Just how she had managed to get herself wrapped into the mess of tent fabric, with all the tent pegs scattered to the four winds, she would never understand. Thank goodness for the girls and their merciful hearts, stepping in to get her unwound, berating her quietly for being a showoff and telling her jokingly to give the rest of them a turn. The tent was up in three minutes after that. No one seemed to see the frustrated tears, or at least they were all tactful enough to pretend they didn't.
On to the events of the evening. Camille relaxed a little bit, drifting further into the memory, reliving it.
The food was strangely tasty, despite the excess of charcoal (also known as "character", according to Bobby) clinging to everything. She wasn't able to contribute to the jokes and ghost stories that followed, but Kitty successfully guilted her into singing a simple spiritual, with the peppy brunette ghostling cheerfully claiming all the off-key high notes. She had always loved singing, had never really been bothered by an audience, no matter what the size. Yet for some reason, she just couldn't bring herself to even glance over at one particular corner of the fire, where the owner of the slate-blue eyes and crooked grin joined in with a black-velvet baritone.
After the singing died down, the boys started the usual boasting, each one of them claiming to have carried the most firewood, a friendly argument that led to a flurry of flexing, which inevitably led to...yes, horror of horrors, an arm-wrestling contest. A disdainful Rhane sniffed and bet that "Miss Cami could whup all their sorry butts", resulting in a chorus of protests and counter bets. A very confused "Miss Cami" found herself sitting across the folding table from a very determined Bobby, apparently expected to beat him.
Very well then, if that's the way they wanted to play it...summon up college memories, and all the "useful" advise the jocks had been more than happy to shower her with. Arm-wrestling... ahhhh...there we go!
She thumped her arm down grimly, clasping hands with the smug pup opposite her. One countdown, a wrist tweak, and a feint move later, that same pup was cradling his poor bruised fist in whimpering defeat. Evan, incredulous, rushed to take his place. Count, tweak, crash. Evan slunk back to his spot grumbling about cheating teachers. Roberto swaggered over and plunked down confidently, even having the gall to wink at her before countdown. Humph. He met with the same result and left chuckling nervously, shaking a numb hand. Apparently, all the years of martial arts training and dance were paying off in unexpected ways. Even Rhane and Kitty took their giggling turns, "just for fun". Rhane put up a valiant fight, to no avail. With Kitty, Cami eased off just the slightest bit to give the girl a little something to rub the boys noses in.
The little cloud of self-congratulation floating in her head dissolved swiftly at the sound of a heavy thud in front of her. Her eyes slowly brought into focus a huge fist, a long, blue-furred forearm, a heavily muscled shoulder...and a pair of mischievous, slate-blue eyes aimed right at her.
"Care to try your luck with me, Ms. Clark?", purred the black-velvet voice.
Her pale eyes were doing their best to creep out of her head, flickering desperately from his hand to his eyes...hand...eyes...hand...eyes. Take him on? Was he serious? The clamor of protests and encouragement faded to a buzz, and she heard a shaky squeak answering him: "S-sssure."
WHAT? Had she just accepted that crazy challenge? Ohmygodohmygodohmygod... Oh, it was too late to refuse now, her hand was already in his grip. Oh God. Events started to slow around her, and all sounds were muffled, like she was swimming in Jello. The only clear detail was the glint in those eyes. He was...smirking. Damn him, the big oaf was really enjoying this, wasn't he? He knew he was going to win, but she'd be damned if she'd let him have it easily!
Time resumed it's normal pace, and she met his grin with an ice-white glare. Bobby eagerly volunteered to do the countdown. Three...two...one... The force of his push was three times that of the boys, and from his chuckle, it was obvious he was holding back. Jerk. She'd make him work for his win, just see if she didn't! Knuckles blanching, she pored every ounce of reserve strength she had into her arm, breathing deeply and intensifying her silver stare. There was a collective gasp as their fists drifted slowly to her side of the table.
Ha! 'How d'ya like me now!', she thought, mouth quirking up at the corner. Turning her focus from her slowly winning hand back to his face, she took in his response. His eyes, glued to their fists, widened just a fraction, and a shaggy brow lifted. He wasn't grinning any more. His gaze snapped to hers, shocking a tiny gasp out of her. Oh boy...this couldn't be good.
He might as well have drawn all her strength out through her eyes. She was losing ground at a speed so gradual, it was almost insultingly casual. True, he showed absolutely no signs of effort, but at least he wasn't toying with her anymore. Her knuckles met his side of the table gently, and the boys erupted into whoops and cheers, clapping each other on the back and congratulating their own Mr. McCoy with almost childish pride. She nodded at him, pragmatically accepting his win, but when she tried to pull her hand away, it wouldn't budge. Hrm...that was odd.
He wasn't letting go. Um... She tugged carefully, mumbling something about getting more firewood, but he didn't release. In fact, he tugged back, pulling her off balance and against the table. What the heck was he playing at? She had seen gloating, but this was going too far! She shot him a pale eyed glower, accusation hovering just behind her lips. Something in his face deflated her indignant posture. That certainly wasn't a gloating smile he wore. There was a softness to it, and a wry glitter in his gaze.
Cheeks already flushed from the previous exertion, darkened considerably. Now she really couldn't move. He was saying something suitably kind and good sportsman-like, but her ears were burning too much to catch all of it. Did he think it strange that her only reply was a numb nod and slack-jawed stare? Obviously. His lips slowed to a halt, and his eyes froze into a pretty intent stare of his own. Casting out from her mind, she cautiously probed at his emotions, curious to see if she would find anything other than his usual reserve. She almost drooped. No change...
Wait...that was new...what was that?
"Umm, Mr. McCoy? Some of us are heading off to bed. Mind if we steal back Miss Cami? I think she's probably ready to crash, with everything we've put her through today" Kitty's warm valley accent cut between the frozen adults, making them both jump. Awkward goodnights were mumbled, and Cami let herself be led away to the tents. She glanced back once and caught him watching her with a bemused frown, rubbing the back of his neck absently...
...Bright silver eyes popped back open, as their owner came rushing back to the present. Well, that wasn't very helpful. Now she was even more awake than before, and blushing up a storm.
"Rats.", she whispered to the roof of the tent, "four hours since we went to bed, and still no sleep." She petulantly punched the corner of her pillow. One of the girls jumped and whimpered in her sleep. Great, now she was projecting her frustration on the girls. She had to get out of this tent. Slithering out of the sleeping bag, she carefully unzipped the tent flap and slid out.
The cool night air was a welcome relief after the close warmth of the tent. Stretching, she savored the ticklish finger breezes that played over her skin. They combed teasingly through her hair, and snatched at the black satin camisole and shorts Kitty had made her pack, instead of her usual comfy sleep shirt. So what if it had been a little threadbare? At least it was soft, more than could be said for the itchy lace on this risqué little number. The neckline of the camisole swooped down to a low plunge, only a small lace insert to cover the embarrassing décolletage. Cami shuddered and cast a quick glance around her, wrapping her arms over her chest reflexively.
The camp was peaceful and still. The only sound was the occasional soft pop from the dying fire. She puffed out a quiet sigh and relaxed. She hurried across the campsite, hopping delicately from one bare spot to the next, meticulously avoiding rocks and twigs. Across the camp, on the other side of the surrounding ring of trees, was a neighboring clearing with a fallen tree that made quite an inviting perch for some stargazing. She hurried toward it with a half skip, but was pulled up short just at the tree line by a sharp, twiggy snap.
Instinctively, she dropped into a defensive crouch. Slowing her breathing, she listened for any further disturbance, eyes combing the dark cautiously. After several seconds of silence, she straightened and stretched out her freshly tensed muscles. Just as she was starting to chide herself for being jumpy and continue on to the clearing, a blatant cough sent her scuttling backward onto her tush. From this new, awkward vantage point, she was finally aware of the one direction she had neglected to check: up. Directly above her head, hanging from a thick, low-growing limb, was a very composed Hank McCoy. "Good evening, Camille.", he said, soft baritone voice hovering just on the edge of humor.
She growled irritably, ignoring him for a second while she completed the mandatory rubbing-of-the-abused-bum. Shooting him an ironic glare, she answered back.
"A lovely evening indeed, Mr. McCoy." She puffed a lock of reddish-brown out of her face. They regarded each other for several silent minutes, his face calm, hers impassive. Finally, she rolled herself out of her sprawl, springing to her feet just a few inches from his inverted form. Hands on hips, she cocked her head to the side, allowing the smallest of grins to tiptoe across her mouth. "Well?", she said, lifting a brow.
He blinked. "Well...what?", he asked, after a few more seconds of silence. Confusion was just starting to show itself on his features. Her smile became a full blown smirk.
"Well... How long are you planning on staring down my top?" Cami gave the aforementioned article a significant glance, then returned her gaze to him with a wink, gauging his reaction. He did not disappoint. As soon as the realization hit him, his eyes unintentionally followed her downward glance, then widened and danced away. His ears flattened themselves against his head and his mouth gaped open in silent protest. He lost his grip on the branch, tumbling into an ungraceful pile. Gathering himself, he regained his feet, and attempted to recover some measure of dignity. He crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and glaring at her sternly, but she noticed his eyes were carefully directed at the top of her head.
She coughed back an evil giggle, then mirrored his pose, quietly daring him to scold her. Sighing, he gave her a rueful grin and shook his head. Apparently, he preferred to avoid the subject. 'Tch, chicken.', she thought, tossing her hair back from her shoulders. She busied herself with brushing the bits of debris off the backs of her legs, leaving him responsible for restarting the conversation.
He waited for her to finish, watching with a frustratingly neutral expression. Finally, he shifted, once again rubbing the back of his neck, and looking at her from under his brows. "So...couldn't sleep?", he asked, a bit nervously, or so it seemed. She cocked her head again and glanced over her shoulder at her tent, then back to him.
Raising her brows innocently, she chirped, "And what would give you that idea?" She crossed her arms just under her breasts, shifting to her other hip with a bounce. She was baiting him shamelessly now, but the usual sense of caution had yet to catch up with her. She decided to have fun with the situation, while it lasted.
He collected himself faster than she expected from her "springy" onslaught. The slight twitch to one ear was the only indication he even noticed.
"You know, I'm not quite sure.", he answered, with studied solemnity. He pulled himself up and brushed the fingers of one hand against the bridge of his nose, a gesture familiar to a long time wearer of glasses, still not out of the habit. He had on his best classroom air now, his most comfortable state."It might have been the sight of you flitting across the campsite like a ghost, but even that in itself could mean you were just sleep walking." Not seeming to notice her now skeptical stare, he hurried on. "Of course, I haven't seen many sleep walkers who could've accomplished that interesting little dance number you pulled out there, but anything's possible. By the way, what would you call that style, I don't think I've seen it's like." The corner of his mouth jumped a little, but he steadied it, waiting for her reply with almost genuine curiosity.
" It's called "Sleepless, on the rocks.", she answered, adopting his stilted, formal tone. He looked nonplussed, apparently thrown off by her frank acceptance of his teasing. "Sounds more like a mixed drink...", he mumbled.
"It's meant to."
His double-take was priceless. She flounced past him on her way to the log, barely sparing a glance for his stupefied stare.
Author's note: There ya go, fellow Xmen lovers! I hope I haven't shaken up your heads too badly. Don't forget to push that li'l "Review" button!
Oooooh, almost forgot; for those of you who know her, the ever wonderful and magnificent Mistiqarts of DeviantArt fame took a liking to this little tale, and illustrated one of the scenes! Heheeeeee! It is too awesome, you've totally got to go check it out! Check for the link on my profile, or shtick dis up in your browser: mirasa-bytes-phyte . deviantart . com /#/d2u7he1 (no spaces, of course)