On the second of December, the Christmas spirit was high, but motivation for the final semester exams was dangerously low while the fear of failure was higher than Christmas spirit. It was the Friday before exam week, and there was a lot of last-minute reviews and cramming going on as students desperately completed study guides, flipped through flashcards, and made quizlets for their classes. Even the teachers were beside themselves, having to answer numerous questions through email and in person.
Towards the end of the day, the stress seemed to have climbed so high that it felt like classrooms were war zones and the library was a no man's land. As a very powerful and gifted telepath, the Professor was overwhelmed by the tension so thick he felt like he was drowning in it. It was such a shame that the students couldn't be children when they were worrying over their grades. Finals were at least 30% of everyone's grades, if not higher depending on the teacher's discretion. Education was important, but so was personal safety and health, be it physical or mental or emotional. Of all people, the Professor knew this as a mutant, as a telepath, and as a man who opened his home to children and those in need. Therefore, he felt compelled to help them in some way besides offering a last-minute review session – that would just pile on more anxiety.
At a loss, the Professor sat in his office, staring so hard at his desk that the wood-grain pattern seemed like it was seared into his retinas. He was brainstorming for ideas, something uplifting or motivational, but at the same time simple. Offering more academic help or bonus points would be no different than what the teachers had been doing all week. Having a pizza night for dinner seemed out of the question, too, since there had already been an unhealthy amount of snacking and stress-eating.
Steepling his hands in front of his mouth as he propped his elbows on the desk, the Professor was deeply tempted to ask some of his teachers for any suggestions. There were multiple problems with that, though. For one, he didn't want to draw them away from the students at this time while they still had questions. For another, what he wanted to do for the students applied just as equally to his teaching staff. After all, when the students finish their exams, everything is out of their hands from there. However, it was a different story for the staff. The exams had to be graded promptly over the break so that the students could know their final grades soon before Christmas, so they could fully relax, too. That meant that the teachers had another week of school basically, grading exams and essays and projects and extra credit assignments. If Charles asked any of them for advice on what he wanted to do, it would be spoiling the surprise for them as well, especially if he needed their help in executing his plans.
No, this had to be perfect. Something that didn't induce anxiety or raise stress levels. It didn't necessarily have to be cathartic to the point of the students going crazy. That would be counter-productive to the entire point of this week of review. What the Institute needed was something relaxing that could temporarily lift the heavy weight of thinking and memorization. There had to be something that could erase the looming shadow of possible failure from his students and staff.
Suddenly, Charles got an idea, a wonderful idea. Expertly, he maneuvered his wheelchair to one of his cabinets where he kept nonacademic materials. Behind a few bottles of brandy was an old record-player that his father had used. The Professor was lucky to find this considering he knew that his old record-player was somewhere else in this huge mansion. The difference between Charles' record player and his father's was that his father owned old fashioned music. Luckily, Charles knew that there was a Christmas one also somewhere in the cabinet. Eventually, he found it and put it on the record player, placing that on his desk. Rolling back behind his desk, Charles switched on the intercom – something he rarely used since he was a telepath, but there have been emergency situations where it was needed – and put the needle on the record, allowing the music to play.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Let your heart be light.
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight."
It played beautifully. Despite being unused for many years, most likely since the 1970s, the record player was in pristine condition, albeit a bit dusky. The Frank Sinatra record was one of the few that wasn't cracked, damaged, or scratched either, too. So, the music easily transferred over the speakers throughout the school smoothly and without a hitch.
Everywhere in the X-Mansion, there was a pause as teachers and students both took a breather to stop and listen to the song. It felt like the previous general atmosphere had dissipated. The stress was melting away as people's hearts were warmed and lifted by Christmas cheer.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Make the Yuletide gay.
From now on, our troubles will be miles away."
Storm had stepped out of her classroom, still a little weary that this wasn't authorized by the Professor, but when she saw that Forge was leaning against a wall, she stopped. For the first time this week, Forge looked happier than ever, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the music. There was a small smile on his upturned face, one that warranted a kiss from Storm, but she couldn't drag her feet over there to do it. She took as much pleasure in the music as she did from seeing the calm on her boyfriend's visage. If he was unconcerned, then so should she. After all, Forge always knew when the intercoms were inappropriately misused. Satisfied, Storm returned back inside her classroom and softly closed the door behind her with a barely audible click.
"Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore."
Down in his laboratory as always, Hank lifted his head from his work, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension of his straining muscles. His neck ached, and he rubbed his hands into it, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. One leg had fallen asleep, and he had to stand there for a moment to shake it awake. The music was able to pull him away from his work in a peaceful way, where he didn't jump too violently and ruin anything. Allowing it all to wash over him, Hank blinked, realizing he had worked through lunch again. Deciding to get into the Christmas spirit, Hank left his lab and travelled upstairs to the kitchen for a snack and a mug of hot chocolate.
"Faithful friends who are dear to us,
Gather near to us once more."
Studying in the library were a few teenagers who didn't have a class during this hour. At one table sat Ace and the trio of troublemaking boys: Francois, Gilbert, and Antonio. Rather than being productive the boy had been rowdily playing Cards Against Humanity, driving Rogue up the wall and to her wits' end trying to control them. Now that the music was playing, though, they had moderately settled down. Music tamed the savage beasts it seems.
At the other table, though, there seemed to be a less dramatic change with the group of girls. Wanda was helping the girls go over the timeline they made for Logan's history class before they had to turn it in today. With her was Armor, Pixie, Jubilee, and Negasonic. Unsurprisingly, the only girl not fully participating was Negasonic, because she had her earbuds in and blared her music. Wanda had allowed it mostly because she felt pangs of remembrance in being an edgy teenaged mutant girl, too, and also because she knew sometimes people concentrated better with music. Now that the music was playing overhead, though, maybe it was time to get Negasonic to join the group. The only one brave enough to suggest that, though, was Jubilee to no one's surprise at all. "Hey, Negasonic," she whispered as she pulled the girl's earbuds away, "you should listen to this Christmas music like the rest of us. Tis the season and all that jazz." Jubilee smiled at her and bumbled to ask a question before Negasonic could sour the moment. "Hey, uh, what did you get for this date?" With fascination, Wanda watched as Negasonic spoke softly to Jubilee rather than biting the girl's head off. Christmas miracles do happen, but if you were observant that wasn't actually a miracle. There was more to hope for from Jubilee and Negasonic, and everyone aware of it knew it and believed it.
"Through the years we all will be together,
If the fates allow,
So, hang a shining star upon the highest bough,
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now."
In a classroom, Kurt managed to draw out a lot of laughter from his students as he performed a dramatic lip sync of the song as it played. He went to such lengths like dangling from the ceiling by his tail and draping himself across his desk. It was just Kurt's style, though, to be okay with people laughing at him. After all, he was laughing, too, and he firmly believed that laughter is the best medicine.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Let your heart be light.
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight."
Similar to the events of the other day, Jean was struggling to put Hope down for her nap. Short of bringing Hope with her, Jean knew that she could not miss her last class of the day. No one would be able to cover for her either. However, as soon as the music cascaded into the nursery over the schoolwide speaker system, Hope stopped fighting her sleep and was almost instantaneously lulled into a dream land. Extremely thankful, Jean flicked off the lights, taking her baby monitor with her to psychology class. Hope slept serenely for the rest of her naptime, undisturbed by anything.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Make the Yuletide gay.
From now on, our troubles will be miles away."
Bobby had been in mid-search when he first heard the music. He had been on the hunt for Deadpool's mysterious, invisible, tantalizing presents, and so far, had no luck. Frustration was about to overtake him when the sultry voice of Frank Sinatra coaxed him out of it. Instead, he sank into cushions of a nearby couch, allowing himself to finally chill. It was rough teaching math here, especially math like Statistics, Calculus, Trigonometry, Algebra, and Accounting. Often it was a thankless job, but now, he wasn't chasing numbers through his head. Looking for presents had been a nice distraction, but it felt much of the same as his job as far as satisfaction went. But now, listening to a classic Christmas song, Bobby felt at peace. There was no outside pressure on him as a member of the X-Men, so he dropped his guard in the safety of his home. Allowing himself to space out, Bobby took in the beauty of the Christmas tree and other holiday decorations before his eyes unfocused and he just daydreamed idly, happily, about nothing at all.
"Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore."
Sitting at his desk as his students worked quietly, both Peter and his students listened to the music. This was the first time Peter had ever heard this particular Christmas song, and as he mentally translated the lyrics for himself he was surprised that he found himself getting caught up in the words. He felt like he was nearly on the verge of tears, so emotional was he. Moved by the music, Peter felt compelled to share his feelings. Pulling out his phone, he carefully typed a sweet message to Kitty, where he basically said that he loved her. After he pressed send, he got up and left his classroom to call home and tell his parents that he loved them, too. If his cellphone had had the signal reach he probably would have tried to call his sister Illyana, too, but he knew that that effort would be fruitless. Lucky for him, though, he managed to get ahold of his parents, and as he talked quietly to them in his native tongue, his phone buzzed from a text message from his girlfriend Kitty. She had been surprised to receive his text as she sat in her office listening to the Christmas music, but she was delighted to receive it of course. Her text back was much of the same, and Peter felt his heart flutter with love just as Kitty's had at his own text message.
"Faithful friends who are dear to us,
Gather near to us once more."
Upstairs in Jane's bedroom, Pietro and Jane were playing with Balto. It had been a game going back and forth between tug-of-war and fetch with him, where when he brought them the toy but refused to let it go easily. The game would get even more fun and intense when Pietro would use his super-speed to run around the room and tease Balto with the toy before running away. They would play outside if it wasn't so cold and if they weren't afraid that Balto would go roll in the mud again. When the music started playing, though, they were glad that they didn't go outside. Looking up at each other, they both simultaneously smiled, Pietro gently tugging on the squeaky toy Balto had clamped firmly in his jaws. With his focus more on Jane than the dog, Balto managed to yank his toy out of Pietro's hand and prance away with it, boasting. While the dog stretched out and happily squeaked his toy, Pietro approached Jane where she was sprawled on the bed, watching him. She sat up when he got close and their mouths connected in a kiss before they both started singing along to the song, serenading each other. Eventually, Balto grew jealous since he wasn't the center of their attention, and jumped on the bed, howling along to the music, too. Both Jane and Pietro laughed before concentrating on Balto again, lavishing him with coos and belly rubs.
"Through the years, we all will be together,
If the fates allow,
So, hang a shining star upon the highest bough,
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now."
Charles had enjoyed listening to the music almost as much as he enjoyed how much the tension in the X-Mansion had relaxed along with him. Using his telepathy, he had moved from mind to mind to check and see if his idea had worked, and he was glad to see such an overwhelmingly positive response from not only his students but his X-Men as well. Satisfied with what he had done, Charles stopped the record and put it away, confident that now he could finally get some work done and be in a better, more festive mood while doing it.
Despite all his skills as a telepath, though, the only mind Charles had neglected to check (almost deliberately so, one might say) was Logan's. Darcy had been in her office doublechecking to see if her key was correct for her exam when the music came on, and she had stopped to enjoyed the music before finishing. Then she went to Logan, because the song had made her feel that same Christmas cheer that made you want to spend the holidays with those you love.
When she found him, he was teaching his class, and if anything, he seemed annoyed while doing it. Confused, Darcy checked her watch, wondering why he was still teaching when his class should have been dismissed five minutes ago. Her confusion grew even more when she had to wait an additional ten minutes before he finally let his students go. Once the last of the students trailed out – all looking unhappy – Darcy entered his classroom, gently shutting the door behind her. "Carcajou," she gently began, "are you happy to have finished your review?"
Uncharacteristically, Logan didn't even look up when she entered. At her question, he only grunted, a sour look on his face. He sat down heavily in his chair behind his desk, pulling his papers closer to him and riffling through him, not paying her any mind.
A little hurt, Darcy decided to brush it aside. "Don't worry, I'm sure their test scores will be satisfactory for you." Slowly, she walked towards his desk, meandering through the students' desk in a casual way, taking her time in looking around his classroom. She didn't want to make it seem like she was hounding him when, clearly, he wanted to be left alone, but she didn't want to leave yet in case that would hurt his feelings. He was a complicated creature.
Again, he didn't say anything, only slashed at the papers even harder with his pen. The furrow in his brow was so severe, the frown lines on his face so deep, Darcy had the passing thought to comment to him that his face would get stuck that way if he continued, but she thought better of it.
Instead, Darcy softly said to him, "Did you hear the music earlier, Carcajou? That was nice of the Professor to do for the school, don't you think?" Finally, she had reached his desk, and she leaned her hip against the side of it, reading the notes he had written on the whiteboard behind his desk rather than staring at him.
"Yeah, I heard that. Wish he didn't do that while we were teaching. That was distracting. I had to hold my class over for it."
Her eyes slid from the board to him, and for a moment she was silent, trying to remember if she had done something wrong in the past couple of days for him to be so cold to her as he had been lately. Even though she was a telepath, she never used her powers against him because they were in a relationship and that would be a violation of trust. Logan, sensing her gaze, looked up and caught her staring. "What?" he defensively asked her.
"Nothing is wrong with me, Carcajou, baby. Is something bothering you, though?" She placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped around his desk until she was standing behind him. With practiced ease, she slid her knuckles down his spine the way she knew he liked, rhythmically digging her fingers into the knots in the muscles around his neck. "What's the matter, Carcajou? Something is clearly upsetting you." Darcy knew he would be tense around finals, but she didn't think finals would bother him this much. "If it's about the final exams, you shouldn't worry so much. You're a fantastic history professor." Hesitantly, she asked him, "Is it something I have down? Have I made you unhappy somehow?" Her voice lowered even further as she continued, "If this is about me warning you about my heat cycle, I apologize for the timing and all of it, but it can't be helped or suppressed. I know I'm putting some pressure on you, but please, don't worry too much. Let's just have fun with it, baby."
Leaning into her touch, Logan sighed, "No, no, it's none of that. If the kids fail, they fail, not my fault. And as for you, no, you've been perfect." Tilting his head back, he looked up at her. "Is it sad that the only thing I'm looking forward to this month is your heat cycle?"
Blushing in response, Darcy hummed, "Well, no, it isn't, but trust me you'll feel differently once it happens." Clearing her throat, she continued, "What about Christmas, Carcajou? I happen to know for a fact that you've been a very good boy this year. Santa is going to spoil you with presents." She was only halfway teasing at this point.
At that Logan twisted in his chair until he could face her, pulling himself away from her magical hands. "Christmas time has never been particularly good to me before, doll."
A little heartbroken at his words, Darcy stepped forward, pulling him to her in a hug until she had her arms wrapped around his head, trapping him against her body. "Don't say that, baby. I'm sure I can make you change your mind about Christmas." Only pulling away enough so that she could tilt his chin up to catch his eye, Darcy solemnly promised, "I'll make this Christmas your best one, yet, Carcajou." With that she bent over and caught his mouth, and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging a bit.
Logan took what he could from the kiss, lifting his arms to her until he had them slung over her hips and a handful of her derriere. Their relationship was founded on physical intimacy as much as love, so he was normally use to her climbing in his lap by now, but no matter how much he tried to coax her to she just wouldn't. Since the end of the Thanksgiving Break, she had been less intimate that normal, denying him what normally she never refused him before. Her reasoning had been that she didn't want him to be unprepared for when her heat cycle came.
Her heat cycle was a result of her mutation. Like him, she was a feral mutant with a healing factor and a lengthened lifespan. In fact, she was older than him. A result of her feral mutation and her slow aging process meant that instead of getting a period once a month, she got hers once a year. That should have been a blessing, but instead that meant it was nearly impossible for her to get pregnant. In addition, it also meant that she would go into heat for at least a week to at most a month. Her heat came in December, and that meant an insatiable libido. Logan was very much interested in that considering how she was already quite tenacious and dominating in bed as it was.
When she pulled away from their heated kiss, she had properly messed up his hair. "I have to go teach my last class of the day now, but don't worry, Carcajou. Things will start to look up for you soon." Darcy breathlessly told him, smoothing her hand over the stubble of his cheeks. She gave him a small smile before leaving with a deliberate sashay of her hips.
More than a little frustrated, Logan watched her go with hungry eyes. Now he was even grouchier than before. Lacking holiday cheer, Logan returned to his work, a general grump.
