Disclaimer: I don't own ANY of this! I don't own Jono, or Jubilee, or the memory of Angelo, or Xavier's Institute, or the lyrics (which are from the song "Wild Horses" by the Sundays), or the lameness of school dances. I just own Roxanne.
Note: Roxanne "Artemis" Diasakos is an original Gen X/X-Men character. You have been warned. Any further questions can be directed to me.
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Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted, I bought them for you
Graceless lady, you know who I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands
I watched you suffer a dull aching pain Faith has been broken, tears must be cried
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Can make me feel bitter or treat you unkind
Let's do some living after we die
"Lo," Jonothon greeted from behind Roxanne, his head tilted just over her shoulder as she watched the students with a careful eye.
She turned slightly, alarmed that someone had snuck up on her, but released the breath she was holding when she saw the tall Englishman behind her. "Jono," she said, letting her voice release the tension she didn't realize she had been feeling over having to chaperone a group of prone-to-fighting mutant teenagers.
"Rox," he replied, looking over her to the dance and then back at her face, softening a bit. "Having fun?"
"A blast," she told him flatly. She turned back to her duties, making sure to speak so she was heard over the music of the room. He moved to stand next to her, arm-to-arm, and she crossed her arms against her chest as he placed his in the pockets of his jacket. "I forgot," she said, and it was hard for him to hear her.
"Pardon?"
"To be a teenager like this," she said louder. "I forgot what it was like."
"Aw, I don't think you ever got the chance," he replied. "All these kids are old as you were when we were in Gen X."
"Yeah," she answered, sighing. "Still, you wonder."
"You didn't miss much," he told her.
"Well, thanks for that," she said, albeit a little melancholy. On stage, the band started up another song, fast-paced, and the students went into a frenzy of arms and legs. "Who taught these kids to dance?"
Jonothon laughed. "Now you just sound old," he told her. She laughed with him, recalling good feelings. "Remember the dance where Ange went with M?"
Roxanne laughed even harder. "Good times," she replied. "You tend to forget those, too."
"Yeh," he agreed. "Overshadowed."
"I'm glad these kids can retain at least some socialization," she stated. "I feel like we forgot how to interact with people."
"We interact with each other arright," he said. Roxanne merely shrugged to this.
Jonothon leaned in after a pause, his face close to Roxanne's so she could hear him clearly, and he said, "Want to go out on the next one?"
Confused, she turned to find him almost eye-level with her. "What?" she asked.
He motioned to the floor. "Take a turn around the floor?" he suggested. "For old time's sake?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious, and he grinned. They both smiled when the next song came on, and Jonothon straightened to his full height, extending a hand to Roxanne. Acoustic guitar came over the speakers and a clarion voice rang over the music, and Roxanne had to laugh. "You planned this."
Jonothon shrugged. "Maybe," he answered flippantly. "We don't have to, if you don't want."
She placed her hand in his and felt his fingers wrap around hers, warming her. "Be too much of a shame to let it go to waste," she said in the same flippant tone, and let him lead her out to the dance floor. "I feel like I'm at the prom," she giggled, covering her mouth as Jonothon pulled her into him.
"'S the whole point, Rox," he said, letting her rest her hands on his shoulders and placing his on her hips, pulling her close. She hugged her arms around his neck, then, and placed her head on his shoulder as they swayed to the beat of the song. He placed a kiss on her head, quick and soft, and felt her sigh against his jacket. "Love you," he said, and he meant it, and she felt it, and that was all that ever mattered.
She held him a little tighter, then, her hands on the back of his neck, her fingers buried in the thick tangle of brown hair that was just too good to ever cut short. "I love you," she repeated, and they both forgot everyone and everything that had ever happened to them, and they felt seventeen again, like they had just fallen in love and everything was fresh and new.
From the side of the room, Jubilee sniffled as the tears wet her eyes and made her throat choke up. "God, Ange was right," she said to herself, laughing. "We're all just some bad episode of Buffy."
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild horses
Could drag me away
Wild horses
We'll ride them someday...