Title: 101 Recipes for Barbecue Wolverine: Number 1, Marinated
Rating: PG-13
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"Shit," Logan muttered, shaking water from his hair.
Damn it. Just his luck. He tried to fix the sprinkler system in Storm's atrium, and what did he get in return? Wet. Soaking wet. With thorns in his ass and dirt in his mouth.
And screaming of a setup.
It all seemed simple enough at first. Storm complained about the sprinklers not working right. Naturally, he volunteered to fix it. He fixed things. That's part of what he did around the mansion.
And damn the little brats for playing off of that. The first sign of something being not quite right came when he turned off the water supply. Nothing overt. Nothing obvious. But the pipes looked a little new near the cut-off valve.
Then there was the water. He had a bucket handy, ready to catch the excess still in the pipes. Stood on a nice, tall ladder to reach a pipe well over his head. But when he detached the supposedly faulty section, he didn't get water. He got a pipe full of ice.
Fucking Popscicle.
A pipe full of ice in August should have clued him in. That niggling doubt in the back of his mind should have clued him in too. Hell, he knew better than to ignore his instincts. His instincts were seldom wrong.
Yet he ignored them. Grasped the portion of pipe still connected to the ceiling, cocked his head to one side, popped a claw, and squinted as he moved to chip away at the ice blockage.
One hard rap, and a chunk had fallen in the bucket. Another rap, and more chipped away. The pipe had given an odd shudder, like pressure was building. One last rap and a sudden blast of water hit him full in the face. In his surprise he jerked backward, tipping the ladder. Seconds later he hit the ground. Hard. Which would have been okay with his healing factor, if not painful, except he landed on something with thorns.
Not a good day to have forgone jeans in favor of looser fitting exercise gear.
He had cussed loud and long until he had freed himself. Stood up...and promptly tripped over the forgotten bucket, landing face first in a bed of moist dirt, tilled and ready for planting.
So now here he stood, muddy, wet and with a pain in the ass, all thanks to those pains in the asses, Bobby and his cohorts.
"Drake!"
His sensitive hearing picked up the snicker coming from the doorway behind him. He barely had a chance to turn, caught just a flicker of yellow out of the corner of his eye before the electrical jolt hit him. Five seconds of agony as energy danced across his skeleton, from his toes to his head.
He hit the ground, landing in the ever-growing puddle, with barely the energy to flip himself over as the last bits of electricity danced on his skull, and the sound of pounding feet receding into the depths of the mansion.
***
Surveying the class, Storm smiled beatifically before motioning Jubilee, Bobby and Kitty back to their seats.
"And that, class, is a perfect demonstration of conductors. Very nice job. Definitely an A+ effort. Now, you are dismissed."
Everyone scrambled to get their books together, and in the midst of the confusion Jubliee nudged Kitty.
"Hey, do me a favor next time Storm's teaching a lab. Remind me to not piss her off."
Kitty grinned. "Will do. But do you think we should maybe see about getting Logan down to the infirmary?"
###
"Shit," Logan muttered, shaking water from his hair.
Damn it. Just his luck. He tried to fix the sprinkler system in Storm's atrium, and what did he get in return? Wet. Soaking wet. With thorns in his ass and dirt in his mouth.
And screaming of a setup.
It all seemed simple enough at first. Storm complained about the sprinklers not working right. Naturally, he volunteered to fix it. He fixed things. That's part of what he did around the mansion.
And damn the little brats for playing off of that. The first sign of something being not quite right came when he turned off the water supply. Nothing overt. Nothing obvious. But the pipes looked a little new near the cut-off valve.
Then there was the water. He had a bucket handy, ready to catch the excess still in the pipes. Stood on a nice, tall ladder to reach a pipe well over his head. But when he detached the supposedly faulty section, he didn't get water. He got a pipe full of ice.
Fucking Popscicle.
A pipe full of ice in August should have clued him in. That niggling doubt in the back of his mind should have clued him in too. Hell, he knew better than to ignore his instincts. His instincts were seldom wrong.
Yet he ignored them. Grasped the portion of pipe still connected to the ceiling, cocked his head to one side, popped a claw, and squinted as he moved to chip away at the ice blockage.
One hard rap, and a chunk had fallen in the bucket. Another rap, and more chipped away. The pipe had given an odd shudder, like pressure was building. One last rap and a sudden blast of water hit him full in the face. In his surprise he jerked backward, tipping the ladder. Seconds later he hit the ground. Hard. Which would have been okay with his healing factor, if not painful, except he landed on something with thorns.
Not a good day to have forgone jeans in favor of looser fitting exercise gear.
He had cussed loud and long until he had freed himself. Stood up...and promptly tripped over the forgotten bucket, landing face first in a bed of moist dirt, tilled and ready for planting.
So now here he stood, muddy, wet and with a pain in the ass, all thanks to those pains in the asses, Bobby and his cohorts.
"Drake!"
His sensitive hearing picked up the snicker coming from the doorway behind him. He barely had a chance to turn, caught just a flicker of yellow out of the corner of his eye before the electrical jolt hit him. Five seconds of agony as energy danced across his skeleton, from his toes to his head.
He hit the ground, landing in the ever-growing puddle, with barely the energy to flip himself over as the last bits of electricity danced on his skull, and the sound of pounding feet receding into the depths of the mansion.
***
Surveying the class, Storm smiled beatifically before motioning Jubilee, Bobby and Kitty back to their seats.
"And that, class, is a perfect demonstration of conductors. Very nice job. Definitely an A+ effort. Now, you are dismissed."
Everyone scrambled to get their books together, and in the midst of the confusion Jubliee nudged Kitty.
"Hey, do me a favor next time Storm's teaching a lab. Remind me to not piss her off."
Kitty grinned. "Will do. But do you think we should maybe see about getting Logan down to the infirmary?"
###