Logan asked Wolvertique to write these stories as pranks on Kurt. Kurt got another author to write prank stories on Logan. Here are the stories I wrote at Logan's request. Hope you enjoy!
Mystique's Bad Day
The other women chattered loudly behind her. Jasmine was happy with the rich "boyfriend" she'd picked up after last night's performance. Mum was ecstatic about the new soup diet she'd found on the Internet. Iris was talking to her son on her cell phone.
She shifted into a more pleasing appearance. Blonde hair, green eyes, clear pale skin, and two tiny scraps of cloth covering it. Now she was ready for her act.
If she could just keep from throwing up.
She'd been feeling nauseated for much of the past week. Maybe she was coming down with the flu. Iris' boy had gotten it, and he nearly died from it. Good thing she'd made enough in tips to cover his bills a few days ago.
"Lily?" The deep eyes and lizard scales meant Jasmine was playing mother hen again.
"What?" She hated that damned name.
"Are you okay?" The woman's face was drawn in concern. "You still sick?"
Oh, boy. She pushed past Jasmine and threw up volumes of liquid, bitter and orange, into the small toilet attached to their dressing room. She lost control over her form, turning green, then back to her normal blue. Coughing, trying to wipe out her mouth, she sputtered, "What do you think, Jazz?"
The other women gathered around. Jasmine spoke. "Could you be pregnant?"
Pregnant? Oh no. She couldn't be. Could she?
"I don't think so."
The other women whispered and Mum spoke up. "You've been working without a break for two months now. You used to take breaks."
She wetted some toilet paper in the sink, then passed it over her face, hoping for relief. "I don't know. I didn't think I could be, but ... the bastard used a condom! I insisted on it!"
"Remember his name?" Iris gave a challenging smile. "I can find him for you. Just give me 24 hours."
*******************
She made the long journey, grateful to her friends at the strip joint for pooling their resources to get her the bus ticket. She got off about three miles from her destination and started walking.
She let her hatred carry her onward, just waiting to take into the bastard.
When she got to his house, she shifted into the form he'd liked best. Golden brown hair, clear teal eyes, warm brown skin.
She walked into his office. He looked up from his books, then gave a pleased grin. "Lily!"
"Don't." She leaned over the desk and spat in his face. "The condom broke, didn't it?"
He looked startled, then ashamed. "I was not certain. I did not want to cause you alarm."
"Well." She leaned back, defiant. "You caused me pregnancy instead. And you're gonna pay for it, Mr. Charles Xavier."
Das Blaue Licht
He gulped away a tear as she left him alone in the snow. He had hoped she would stay, that she could forgive what he could not.
Now, he was waiting for the other X-men to come back for him. They wouldn't leave him to die, the way she was leaving him.
Would they?
It was horribly cold. His fur wasn't enough to keep him warm. Surely they would have gotten here to warm him by now.
He tried teleporting for a while, then sank, panting, into the snow. Maybe it was a judgement from God, her leaving him here.
After all, she was his sister, but he had not treated her like family.
Well, in a way he had...
He looked down at his engagement ring through his frosty lashes. The tears froze to his face as he said, alone in the frozen wasteland, "Goodbye, meine liebe Rogue."
Kurt collapsed into a snow drift, idly going over a prayer in his head as the world grew warmer and a light shone above his head. A blue light.
Served Colder than Cold
She blinked. "Hello, Logan. How are you?"
He snarled. "Get him back. Now."
She coughed. "Why should I?"
He stalked over to her shoulder and whispered fiercely into her ear. She relaxed into his grasp. "Okay, but you deliver first."
After about an hour of loud noises and hard thumping sounds, Wolvertique sat back at her keyboard, hot and red in the face, to get Kurt back.
Hard Body, Soft Mind
She liked him to be strong. He stretched comfortably, enjoying the way his long black silky hair stroked his velvet skin. He should go lift weights now. Mommy liked it.
He liked it, too. It was easy. Not like school had been. That was hard. He pouted a little, remembering how mean old Professor Xavier had been to him. "Do this, Kurt. Why can't you do that, Kurt. Don't touch kitties that way, Kurt."
He entered the weight room and began his lifting routine. He loved the weights. He could use them all day long. They never yelled at him or called him useless. They made his body feel good when he used them. He carefully added a few more weights. Mommy said to increase the amounts of weight he lifted slow and steady.
The added pounds felt good. He grinned at his handsome reflection in the mirror. He was almost as big as Piotr had been at his old school.
The corners of his mouth turned down. Mommy hadn't let him see any of his old friends from school since she found him and gave him a job. He didn't mind not having to see old Professor Xavier or Betsy or Storm or Cyclo, but he missed Piotr and Kitty.
Mommy came into the room. He dropped his weights and ran over to hug her. She laughed, then gasped, as her huge son swept her up in his arms and tail. "Kurt ... Kurt ... stop ... squeezing ..."
Kurt let Mommy down. He watched as she turned blue again, her normal color. She smiled up at him. "My beautiful boy."
"Mommy." He pointed to the weights, then flexed his arms the way Mommy wanted him to. "See? I've been doing what you like. It makes me look good."
"I do see." She looked at the machines. "Over two hundred pounds, Kurt? Wonderful. You're a very good boy."
He smiled. Mommy liked him.
"We have more pictures to take today, Kurt. Come. Let's get you dressed."
He held back a little, his face uncertain. "Mommy? Can I wear a shirt for the pictures?"
She pulled at his hand, impatient. "No, Kurt. That's not what you're there for."
He looked down at the floor, sad. He didn't mind the pictures or the people looking at him, especially the pretty ladies. But he would rather wear shirts like the other boys.
She laughed. "Have you forgotten that this weekend is your birthday? We get to go to any place you want for dinner, and you can wear anything you want, too!"
He brightened. Mommy was nice. He would be nice to Mommy and let them take more pictures without shirts.
This was just one more day in the life of Kurt Wagner, the twenty-five year old fashion model.
"I still don't understand why you don't want to get him back for the 'I am your father' thing."
Logan laughed. "Like it'd bother me to be the elf's father. I'm old enough to be everyone's father in the X-men. Hell, I might be old enough to be Mystique's father."
Wolvertique shrugged. "Then you'd better leave. "
He walked out the door, satisfied, and lit his cigar once he was out of Wolvertique's room.
Changing
Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Like, whatever. I still believe in God, anyway."
"But you shouldn't! It is a foolish belief, based on nothing but wishes and promises that do not come true!"
Kitty sighed. "Okay, you don't like believing in God. Fine. But some of us still do, Kurt, despite your little crisis of faith or whatever."
Kurt's eyes blazed with fanatical passion. "You do not understand. You are being deceived. I can help you!"
Bobby poked his head into the dining room and winced. "Jesus, Kurt, you still preaching in here? You sound like that Stryker lunatic."
"It is different!" Kurt leaped down from the table, where he had been trying to convince his friends of his newfound ... well, disbelief.
"Doesn't sound much like it from here." He jerked his head toward the door. "Come on, girls. Let's leave Preacher Man here without an audience."
Kurt frowned as his foolish friends walked away. Maybe he just needed to find new arguments. Surely they couldn't keep believing in something that wasn't real.
He didn't see the tear in the eye of the angel watching over him as he stormed from the room.
*******************************************
Wolvertique was enjoying the quiet of her Friday morning, sitting at the computer, glad that her husband and most of her birds were still asleep, when her door was thrown open loudly. She involuntarily put a hand to her throat. Wolverine was there again, and he looked on the verge of a frenzy.
"Why'd you do it?"
She cleared her throat and tried to remember what she'd learned in her combat training sessions with him as he advanced on her, murder in his eyes.
"Uhm ... do what?"
He easily grabbed her left wrist and twisted it behind her back. She let out a cry of pain and he snarled. "I didn't ask ya to insult the elf that bad."
"But ... but you did. Remember? After that story about you being just like Scott..."
He rumbled a little at the memory, but his breath was slowing down and his body felt a little cooler. He spoke deliberately. "Yeah. It pissed me off. But I didn't want ya doing anything like that, not really. Once I cooled down, I mean."
She pulled a little, trying to get away, but the man had a tight grip on her wrist and did not let go. "We can try to fix it. Do you have any ideas?"
"Hmph." He pushed her back down into her chair at the computer, strong hands weighing her shoulders down. "Maybe."
He spoke and she wrote, slowly picking up momentum.
Birthday Present
He had been a little puzzled that Logan had bothered to give him a present at all, the way they'd been insulting each other lately, but after scanning it, getting Forge and Hank to check it, asking Jean for her opinion, and generally behaving in a paranoid fashion, he decided to watch the tape.
The camera flickered over the edifice of a pseudo-Gothic Catholic church building. He had never seen it.
"Hey, elf." The rough voice was Logan's. "Thought you'd be interested in this tape I got visiting a priest at this church. Don't spread it around, though. I made it by mistake."
He cocked his head and leaned forward, curling his tail around his right ankle. The camera moved inside, now, and there was a jump in the picture. Something had been edited out.
He was looking down, now, at the floor of the church from the second story balcony. There was no one there but a woman kneeling before the statue of Mary. She looked up.
She was angry. Her brown eyes started changing shape as she rose, challenging the statue with her defiant stance. Her brown hair slowly shifted to a crimson hue. "So." Mystique finished the change to her normal form and glared at the figure.
"I don't know why I'm here. It's never done me any good." She looked down, then up again. "Maybe it's because I still have the foolish idea that as a mother, you might understand."
She laughed and took a step forward. "But you're too perfect to understand, aren't you? Lost your son and what do you do? Bake cookies the rest of your life, probably. You wouldn't know how it is, thinking you caused his death."
She looked down at the floor, a crystal tear falling from her left eye. She breathed in sharply and looked up again. "I saw him for the first time today." She wiped the tear from her cheek with her index finger, letting it fall from the tip to the floor. "Of all things, he took refuge in the circus. I would have given anything to escape to the circus as a child."
She turned around and sat, the smiling face of Mary far above her now. "There is no way we can have a relationship now. I know that. I just don't know how to feel about this." She waited in silence for a minute. "This was a waste of time."
She shifted as she nimbly rose to her feet, becoming the same ordinary woman she'd been at the beginning of the tape. She left, but curiously, the camera only followed her for a few seconds before it shifted back to the Virgin.
The statue was brushing away a tear from her eye.