Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: R
Spoilers: Generation X #24
Summary: Emma finds something different about Sean when she picks him up on her way home.
Disclaimer: Emma "White Queen" Frost", Sean "Banshee" Cassidy, Bumpkin, Jubilation "Jubilee" Lee, Angelo "Skin" Espinosa, Monet "M" St. Croix, Jonothon "Chamber" Starsmore, Dr. Henry "Beast" McCoy, Paige "Husk" Guthrie, Xavier's School For Gifted Children, and Generation X are © & TM Marvel comics and are used without permission. Everything else is © & TM Pirate Turner. The author makes absolutely no profit from this story.
The yellow headlights flashed over the dark street ahead. Towering trees loomed on either side of the long road as the stretch, white limosuine made its smooth way through the winding path. Suddenly, a figure stumbled out into the road. Brakes screamed as enchanting emerald eyes flashed quickly up in alarm. The limousine came to a screeching halt so close that it was nearly touching the man.
The driver's window rolled instantly down, and an angry voice exclaimed through the crisp air. "WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!"
"I 'twas needin' a ride, Em. Thank the Saints ye came along when ye did."
"SEAN!" she called his name. "What in the world are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere at this time of the night!"
"I 'twas on me way tae town tae pick up somethin' tae eat when me car broke down. What are ye diin' here? I thought ye would nae be back 'till Sunday?"
She had been unable to stay away from him. His absence had left a surprisingly gaping hole in her heart, and it had been tearing at her ever since she had left for Boston. Of course, however, she could never admit that to him. "My business didn't take me as long as I thought it would, but that's no concern of yours, Cassidy," she replied coldly. "Now come and get in here." Her breasts were already hard from the cold Autumn air sweeping in, and that cold was quickly seeping through the rest of her gorgeous body.
"Och! Thank ye, Em! I 'twas about tae freeze from the cold!" he exclaimed as he hurried toward the limosuine.
"I thought this was nothing compared to Ireland's winters?" How many times had she heard him compare America's weather to his beloved Ireland's?
"Aye," he admitted as he quickly opened and shut the passanger door, sliding into the seat beside her in between times, "but these old bones o' mine are too brittle tae be able tae fight off the cold fer long. I guess there's only so much o' knock-down, drag-out fights that even I can take."
A smile teased the corners of her lips as she rolled her window back up. "Well, it is nice to finally hear you admit that you're no longer a Spring chicken, Sean," she teased gently as she released the brake and continued on the path to their home.
"Nae like ye, Em," he said, his voice growing husky as he gazed upon her beauty.
Emma's ice blue eyes cast a quick glance over at the Irish man. "What do you mean, Sean?"
"Och," he said, his cheeks suddenly beginning to grow rosey as he tore his eyes away and gazed out into the dark night instead, "'tis nothing, Em. I'm sorry. I was out o' line."
Since when did Sean Cassidy get embarrassed over nothing? "Sean, what were you going to say?" she demanded.
"It's nothing," he mumbled, shoving a hand through his hair.
"The comment was meant for me, Sean, so why not let me be the judge of that?"
"Em, it 'twas nothing," he insisted.
"You know just as well as I do that I could easily pluck that and much more from your brain, Cassidy," she snapped in response, becoming irritated. What was it that he had almost said but now that she could not seem to get out of him for anything?
"I told ye tae stay out o' me mind, Mind Witch," he growled softly, his wild Irish eyes darting back to her.
"Then save both of us the trouble and just tell me," Emma requested, forcing her voice to sound gentle. In truth, however, as long as it was not a matter of life or death, she would not peek into his mind again. She had gained too much respect and admiration for her co-headmaster to so readily invade such sacred privacy as his mind unless it was a case of life or death. However, she would, of course, never admit that to him and would instead continue to threaten to do so whenever she felt the need arise.
"I will nae! 'Tis me business an' me business alone what I almost screwed up!" Sean exclaimed hotly even as the limosuine's headlights fell upon the sign welcoming them to Xavier's School For Gifted Children.
"Never attempt to tell me what to do, Sean!" Emma exclaimed even more heatedly as she pulled into the parking lot.
Sean fell silent, his eyes returning to gaze out the windshield. Finally, he asked, "Where's Bumpkin tonight?"
"Again, that is none of your concern, Cassidy, but if, for some bizarre reason you think you must know, he's sick." She pulled into a parking space and killed the engine.
"An' ye actually let him have the night off?"
"The weekend actually, Cassidy, so that he can have a chance to recover from the flu. I'm not quite the heartless bitch you think I am!" she snapped, her ice blue eyes blazing, as she snatched her keys out and threw open her door. "Let yourself out." She slammed the door closed and quickly began to stalk off across the parking lot, her long legs stretching out ahead of her. The click-clackings of her white, high-heeled boots echoed through the parking lot as she sprinted toward her quarters.
She heard him slam his door and begin to run after her, but she ignored him. "Em, wait!" he called. Still, she continued on. He ran after her as fast as human legs could carry him and finally managed to catch her shoulder.
She whirled around at his touch and found herself so close to him that her breasts brushed against his thick jacket through the thin fabric of her own jacket and bodice. She had been about to yell at him, but whatever words had been on the tip of her tongue were completely forgotten as she stared up into his enchanting emerald eyes, their lips mere inches apart.
"Em, I'm sorry I upset ye. Please hear me out," Sean quickly said, the words spilling forth as if they were simply one long word.
"Why should I?" Emma demanded, her attempt to speak icily failing and instead coming out in a husky whisper. Why could she not tear her eyes away from his?
"Because I knae ye're nae heartless, Em, an' I din't think ye're a bitch," he said, his voice husky and his Irish eyes searching hers . . .
For what, she wondered. What was he hoping to find in her eyes? Lust? Love? She could only pray that her mask was in firm place as she returned his gaze steadily. "Do you honestly think I care what you think of me, Cassidy?" she demanded in a soft whisper.
"I hope ye di," he responded, his voice growing even huskier as he reached down and gently cupped her cheek. "I hope what I think o' ye matters as much tae ye as what ye think o' me matters tae me."
Do not lean into his touch. Tear away. Don't lean. Don't lean. Don't lean. Her silent commands to her body were useless as her cheek pressed into his gentle caress.
"Em, what I wanted tae say earlier was . . . " He forced his gaze away from her and looked back into the trees. "Nae, I mustn't. I'm sorry, Em. I should nae be diing this. If I say what I almost said earlier, it'll change everything."
The tingles that were spreading from his hand on her cheek were quickly spreading through her body and transforming her sharp mind to pathetic mush. "Maybe," she breathed softly as she reached up, gently grasped his chin, and turned his head back to look at her, "it needs to be changed." Why was she opening herself up like this? Why? Why must she be so foolish and act like any other ordinary woman in love? She was not ordinary but far from ever even coming close to ordinary, and she could not afford the luxury of love though she could afford nearly any material item.
"Are ye sure, Em?" he questioned, his Irish brogue coming out in a soft whisper that thrilled her ears. "Once I say it, I can nae take it back."
"Tell me, Sean," she breathed.
"Yer beautiful, young, an' full o' life. Yer gorgeous, an' the way the moonlight cascades upon yer ivory skin fills me ol' body with an urge stronger than any I've ever felt before."
At first, Emma could think of nothing to say. She was stunned speechless, but a brilliant smile played over her lips. "What kind of urge?" she breathed softly, leaning upwards against him.
"Och, Em," he said, his other hand coming up to caress her fragile neck. "Din't play ignorance. I knae ye better'n that. Ye knae what kind o' urge."
"I feel the same," she breathed softly, "but we have a school to run, Sean. What do you want to do about it?"
"The school can go screw itself for one night, Em. I want ye. Just ye. Naebody else but ye." His lips touched down upon hers, and her lips willingly parted for his tongue to dive in. They kissed passionately, their tongues quarreling seductively. Her arms slipped around him as she came closer, and her hips instinctively cradled the rising bulge in his pants.
His lips left hers, and a soft gasp left her mouth as his mouth moved. His tongue ran over her neck, sending even more electric tingles racing through Emma's being. His mouth opened and began to descend, her blood roaring in his ears. Those few tastes of her had been enough to send his stomach into overdrive. He had to have more!
Emma's eyes drifted shut in sheer ecstasy but flew back open at the loud popping sounds that erupted just behind Sean. He jumped back, holding his rear end, and a flurry of strange words sprouted instantly forth from his mouth. Emma stumbled back, her eyes wide. She had heard Sean cuss in Gaelic before, but that sounded nothing like any Gaelic or any other language she had ever heard before in her entire life.
"FROSTIE, MOVE IT! THAT'S NOT IRISH! GET OUTTA THE WAY!" Jubilee screamed as she raced into the lights cascading over the parking lot from the light poles.
"What do you mean, Jubilee? What's going . . . ?" Emma fell silent, her heart and body freezing instantly as the being she had thought to be her beloved Sean Cassidy whirled around to face her student. In so doing, he exposed his muscular, green back to her. His shoulders were broad with spikes jutting forth from them. Warts and thick hair covered his back, and slime dripped from his skin. Emma tried to run, but her legs simply did not seem to be able to hear the message screaming from her brain. How could it be? What was this thing!
As the Troll charged Jubilee, she met it with a flurry of fireworks. It scampered backwards. "FROSTIE!" Jubilee yelled. "YER'VE GOTTA GET YASELF TOGETHER QUICKLY! I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG I CAN HOLD THIS THING OFF!"
"What . . . " Emma finally managed to speak. "What is it?"
"It's a Troll, chica," another voice called to her as Skin raced to her. "Come on, Miss Frost. You've gotta snap out of it. What did it do to you?"
"I . . . It . . . How . . ." Her lips simply could not seem to form a complete sentence, and then she felt a tug on her hand. Looking over, she saw Angelo trying desperately to pull her away as the Troll, frustrated from being unable to lay hands on the fire-shooting girl, barreled back toward Emma.
"Oh my! What is that disgusting beast!" M's voice suddenly exclaimed as the young Algerian mutant swept down between her headmistress and Skin and the Troll. It did not slow, but she met its plowing form with a series of lightning-swift punches. She had to put all of her superhuman strength into the task, but she slowly began to drive it backward.
"It's a Troll," Jubilee called, "and I'll be damned if I know how to get rid of it. Angie?"
"Fire, chica. We had packs of the things back in the barrio, and that's how we handled them."
"But not fireworks?" Jubilee asked disappointedly.
Skin shrugged. "As far as I can tell, it only pisses him off."
"Would some one kindly explain to me when these mythological beasts became real and why this monster has Mister Cassidy's appearance in its front but not in its back?"
Skin sighed as he continued trying to pull his unresponsive headmistress to safety. "We really don't have time for this, chica," he snapped. "We've got to get rid of that thing before it eats any one else."
"Oh my Gawd!" Jubilee suddenly exclaimed, her face going instantly pale. "Ang, ya don't think!"
"'Fraid so, chica," Angelo replied, a deep grief suddenly overtaking his face and eyes. "That's the only way they're supposed to be able to take a human appearance."
"What is the only way they can take on human appearances?" M demanded as she again punched the persistent Troll. "Would some one kindly inform me as to what this Troll thing can and can not do! Just what is it I'm fighting here?"
"It's a Troll, M! We already told ya that! It ate Banshee. That's the only way it can take on a human appearance -- is by eatin' that human. Must've wanted to do the same wit' Miz Frost 'cause it used Banshee's appearance to get to her."
"But -- But that can not be!" Monet exclaimed, hitting the Troll with both fists yet again. "I just saw Mister Cassidy! Hold on. Let me check." Within mere seconds, Monet had telepathically located Sean. She quickly informed her headmaster on the situation before speaking, "He's alive."
"What!" Jubilee and Skin exclaimed simultaneously.
"How can that be?" Skin asked.
"I suppose that your fairy tales were not all that truthful, Angelo. He is alive and well. I just informed him of our situation."
"Thank God!" Jubilee exclaimed, waves of relief washing over her. "Now let's show that monster he can't pick on Generation X!" With that exclaimation, the young mutant released another barrage of fireworks.
Angelo looked helplessly at his headmistress. "Miss Frost?" he tried yet again. "Are you all right?"
"Sean . . . I . . ." All she could do was try to speak and shake her head. She had never felt so stupid in her entire life.
"Miss Frost, it's okay. It's not your fault."
"I should have . . . "
"Known?" Angelo interjected. "The only way you could have would have been to scan the brain of what you thought was Mister Cassidy. You respected Banshee's privacy, and that's a good thing."
"But it could have . . . "
Before Emma could continue, the Troll roared. Both Emma's and Skin's heads snapped up at its angry bellow just in time to see the Troll, who had stopped wearing Sean's appearance, toss both M and Jubilee away. Its beady eyes narrowed on Emma, and it sniffed the air. Catching the scent of its prey, he lumbered toward her.
Skin did not hesitate as he leapt into the path, blocking the Troll from his headmistress. "Hey, hombre! Stop pickin' on the chicas an' fight a real man!" he challenged.
The Troll's massive fist struck Angelo across the side and tossed him away as if he weighed nothing. It continued on before Emma. She finally managed to regain enough control over herself that she began to reach out to his mind, but even as she did so, his massive fist drew back. Its long, deadly claws were seconds away from striking Emma's chest when fire suddenly blazed down from above. It cried out in pain as the fire grew until it consumed his entire being. There was a loud explosion, and then bits and pieces of the Troll rained down upon the four on the ground and the two landing.
Banshee released Chamber. "Chamber, see tae the others an' help them tae the medlab. Beast is already on his way."
On it, sir, Chamber immediately thought as he raced over to see to his team mates.
"Em," Sean said, gazing at Emma with extreme concern, "are ye all right?"
"I . . . It . . . I never thought that Trolls might actually exist. I mean, nowhere besides alternate realities. Certainly not in this dimension."
"But they di, lass," Sean said gently. "They an' a whole slew o' other nasties." He wanted to reach out to her and pull her into a gentle, reassuring embrace, but he knew better than to do so for any attempt would simply anger her.
"But what I still don't get," Skin spoke up, "is why it was able to take on Banshee's form without ever eating him." He glanced at his headmaster, "No offense, of course."
"Course nae," Sean replied. "I wonder . . . "
"What, Irish?" Jubilee asked.
He turned back to look at the four teens as he said, "I wonder if it could've been a mutant?"
"A mutant Troll?" Skin could not help the shiver that went through him. "I've seen what those things can do. The last thing we need is for things like that to start mutating and getting even more powers to do even more destruction with."
"Are ye lot all right?" Sean asked, his concern clear in his voice.
"We are fine, Mister Cassidy," Monet hurried to assure him.
"Little worse for wear," Jubilee admitted, "but I think it's a safe bet to say we've all had worse."
Skin glanced at Emma and then looked back at Jubilee. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, chica," he whispered softly.
Three sets of worried eyes glanced at Emma before quickly looking away. "Trust me," Jubilee whispered softly, thinking back to the Christmas Eve she had spent sharing secrets with Miss Frost, Monet, and Paige. "She has."
"Angelo," Monet spoke up, looking at her team mate, "would you mind sharing some of your experiences with the Supernatural with us?"
Angelo looked up at her in surprise. "I thought you didn't believe in the things that go bump in the night, chica?"
"I did not before tonight, but clearly at least one fabled race does exist. As long as creatures such as it exists, we need to know as much as possible about them for we can never tell when we might come across such monstroities again."
"Well," Skin said, cracking his knuckles, "let's head back to the dormitories, and I'll tell you guys all about my first time. . ."
Angelo, Jonothon spoke up, a chuckle to his mental voice, the gels don't want to hear about your first time in the bed. M asked about the Supernatural.
"I know that," Angelo returned as the three headed off toward their dormitories. Only Jubilee hesitated as she glanced from Banshee to Emma and then back again to Banshee. The Irish man nodded, and she returned his nod with a small grin though the worry still showed clearly in her blue eyes. She then turned back and raced to catch up with her team mates.
"Em?" Sean spoke softly, turning back around to face the beautiful blonde as the teenagers' voices disappeared into the darkness. "Are ye okay?"
"I thought it was you," she whispered. "I should never have let my guard down," she continued, shaking her head, "but I thought it was you."
"Why didn't ye sense it telepathically?" he asked.
"I . . . Sean, I . . . " She sighed, looked away, and then looked back to him. Their eyes met and locked as she admitted softly, "I haven't done that in a very long time -- at least, not to you."
"Ye haven't?" he asked. "I thought me mind was an open book tae ye."
She shook her head. "I'm not a bitch, Sean. Your mind is your own mind, and I do my best not to plunder around in it without your permission."
"I ne'er said ye were a bitch, Em."
"Most people believe so," she countered.
"Most," he agreed, "but nae all." He smiled down at her, his Irish eyes twinkling as they gazed into her baby blues.
She smiled, and her lovely smile stole his breath away. "I'm glad to know that," she allowed herself to admit softly.
"Well, then, knae this too, lass," he told her. "I'm glad ye're okay."
"As I am you, Sean," was all she dared allow herself to say. "As I am you." He held out his hand to her, and she slipped her hand into his.
"Saints, Em! Ye're freezin'! Why did ye nae say so, lass!" He instantly released her hand, whipped off his jacket, and before she could speak one word of complaint, wrapped it around her shoulders. "Now let's gi home," he said, bending slightly behind her.
"Sean, what are you --?" Emma began but never got a chance to finish as she found herself toppling backwards.
He caught her securely in his strong arms, held her gently to his chest, and flew up into the night sky with her. "I'm takin' ye home," he told her simply with a charming grin.