A/N:Took long enough for me to remember and post this, I had written it a while ago. Life got in the way, as usual.
I would like to dedicate this to the Nutty JPG&R, Seph, Lilli and the other ladies at lievschreiberforum dot com, tight shirts, Live and flip-flopping ovaries. You will one day be responsible for my disappearance-do not bother to look for me, I will be locked up snugly in a padded cell. But at least I was having fun!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-Men. If I did, Scott would be cleaning the kitchen, my freezer wouldn't eat up so much electricity and I would be on the couch with two ferals. Watching TV you perverts! So nobody belongs to me, sadly. One day I will kidnap a Huge Leave with my accomplice though and die happy, while hormones dance.
Now have a drink, sit back and read. This does contain language and rambling, you have been warned.
Wedding bells were ringing. Again. Loud enough to reach sensitive feral ears even in the remote spaces on the vast grounds of the mansion. For example a little clearing in the woods, currently occupied by two large ferals, one of them casually lounging in a tree-so technically, only one of them is in the clearing, but you get the point.
Logan has pulled off his tuxedo jacket and, after trying to bury himself underneath it, just flung it to the ground. His brother Victor has taken things a step further, his jacket might be one day found by a puzzled veterinarian as evidence in the mysterious death of Storm's valuable Kois. In other words, he has shredded it to bits and thrown it into the pond the minute the ceremony was over.
Lucky for Logan the new Mrs. Logan is one heck of an understanding woman and let him go play in the woods for a while after the ceremony. Officially to give the feral senses a break. Unofficially because the girls need to remove some of the decoration that almost caused a terrible accident. Let's just say it wasn't a very good idea for Xavier to roll down the aisle in his wheelchair when that breeze Storm so carelessly let loose started playing with the long ribbons tied to the chairs framing the aisle. Good thing Logan had been there to grab a hold of his brother, otherwise Professor Charles Xavier could have added another achievment to the already impressively long list: First person ever to be killed by Victor Creed without him intending to do so.
"So, do I call you Mr. Rogue now?"
Logan tosses the empty beer can towards his brother's head without looking.
"We should head back now."
Victor imitates the cracking of a whip with an impressive accuracy.
"I'm not whipped. I'm starvin'."
"Yeah, right."
"No really… Wait. Are there people screaming?"
No need to answer that, they both heard screams and shouts from the gardens where dinner was about to take place shortly. They both take off, Logan ploughing a straight line through the forest ground, Victor leaving irreparable damage on some of the large old trees. They skid to a halt at the tree line almost simultaneously, Logan arriving a few seconds before his older brother.
"You're getting old."
"Nope. Had to go back."
Victor raises his hand, the two remaining cans of beer are dangling from the claw of his index finger, still in their plastic rings.
"Here. Take yours, we gotta make a better entrance than the cloaked guy over there scaring everyone."
Logan nods and opens his can of beer before casually strolling out of the woods. If there is one thing both of them know it is this: no matter what, always be the scariest motherfucker around. It's a family pride thing.
"Well, well, well. Didn't know my little brother invited Death himself."
Victor keeps strolling towards the stranger, very aware of the fact that people stopped running. He likes an audience. He dislikes guys in silly costumes. That and large bodies of water, romantic comedies-anything romantic, really- and walks on the beach (that being the ultimate horror of course).
"Really, did I get the look right? I am flattered. Though you know, last time we saw each other people were trying to sell me as Deadpool before they thoughtlessly destroyed my chance to get a spinoff. Well, anyway. Here I am, tadaa!"
He pulls off the hood of the black cloak he's wearing, though he suspiciously looks like Wade Wilson, not Deadpool.
"Now where is the lucky fella! C'mere Jimmy!"
He pulls Logan into a giant bear hug before the grumpy mutant can even react. Marie carefully approaches, tugging her husbands sleeve.
"Uh… Logan, who is this?"
"I have no fucking idea."
"Aw, I am seriously hurt now. Did you still not overcome that lame bullet in the head thing? Come on, if I can miraculously revert those operations that scarred my beautiful body and get my head back where it belongs you might as well remember all the shit we did together. You know, funny thing is, even though those bullets damaged your brain you can regrow those memories if you only want to. At least you did in the comics. Didn't you? Shit, I lost track with all those storylines and all."
"Wade, you were weird fifteen or thirty years ago. You are weirder now."
Victor stopped the strolling and went into towering menacingly mode. People are scared, but not Wade. He suddenly remembers why he hated that dipshit so much.
"See. Nobody knows what time it is."
"Two thirty." Jubilee chimes in helpfully.
"Thank you girlie, but I meant yearwise. The timeline is eternally screwed. As are some of you, by the way. Hold on Jimmy, this your bride?"
"Yep. This is my wife."
She, ever the trooper, stretches out her hand.
"Rogue."
"No, you are not. Rogue is in her thirties and with the brotherhood. Sometimes. But hey, since Jimmy and Victor are brothers now, which apparently they weren't before… Do I know you from somewhere, "Rogue"?"
He puts those nifty quotation marks around her name, with his fingers. Unnecessary, because he is able to speak them quite nicely.
"Not that I know of."
Wade turns around towards Victor.
"You are all perverted assholes. She's your daughter, isn't she?"
"I think he finally lost his last marble. I'll just go ahead and kill him."
"Don't try Victor. I decided to keep the not dying ability, thank you very much. Of course she is your daughter. Saw you guys. Though you were… younger, little Rogue. And Victor, you were…less hairy, less violent and… Jewish. Remember, when your wife screwed around with the blouse guy in Woodstock? The one that hangs out with Frodo. Weird guys, those hobbits."
"I am completely lost. Food, anyone?"
Trying to avert attention from the weird rambling man, Rogue ushers the guests towards the tents where carefully laid cards mark their seats. It took longer to place all the guests than it ever took the X-Men to plan a mission, showing just how awful weddings really can be.
"No! Noooo don't leave just yet! I can't stand it when people don't listen to my ramblings! I am only here because I am such a likely character to ramble. That's right, this bitch is using me! Since apparently randomly appearing characters were well received in the last instalment she's using the cheap trick again! Hey, who's Cojack over there? He looks like he's going to faint."
"I am Charles Xavier and the way your thoughts bounce around in your head it is giving me a headache."
"Funny, that's what my therapist always said. She also kept telling me to keep my hands off her. Lovely woman, wonder what happened to her."
"She probably killed herself."
"Now that was just mean, Victor. Why do you always have to be so bad? Not everyone who has had a crappy father turns out like you! Well I admit the claws are pretty scarring. Get it? Haha! Anyway. It is good to see you two have been reunited again. Just wanted to stop by and say Hi, that's all. Nice day for a white wedding. I always liked Billy Idol. Why are you wearing white by the way, or didn't Jimmy touch you yet? Aw, that would be sweet. But knowing him the appropriate colour would probably scarlet…"
With a growl Victor grabs Wade by the neck and carries him off to the edge of the woods. But because today is such a special day and all he decides to save this kill for later. He ties the rambling man to a tree not too far away from the dining area where the tables have been arranged to form a square around an open fire barbecue. Somebody bothered to hire a bard, but he soon meets the same fate as Wade, his little instrument lying crushed beneath him-pieces of it are stuck between the bard's teeth.
Pigs are being roasted, alcohol is being served and everyone is being happy. Except for the Romans that are still incapable of invading this little spot…. Wrong story. Maybe next time.