Crazy on You
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution or any of the characters.
A/N: I want to thank my reviewers. I really appreciate your feedback.
Amara rolled her eyes as another 'pop' echoed in the small room she shared with Jubilee. Her friend had been awfully quiet since Roberto's accident two days prior, choosing to spend most of her time in their room on her bed staring at the ceiling, amusing herself with small, private light shows courtesy of her mutant gene.
The Roman royal flinched as a sparkler crackled too close for comfort. "Would you mind keeping your fireworks on your side of the room?" she snapped, glaring at the quirky Asian.
Jubilee cocked a brow. "What has the royal underwear in a twist this afternoon?" she bit back with a glare of her own. "You know you should be in better humor than that, I hear your boyfriend escaped the med bay with just a cast and a couple of months on the bench."
A black spiral notebook was airborne before the words even had time to go cold and landed with a satisfying 'smack', bringing the informal fireworks display to an abrupt halt.
"Hit a royal nerve, did I?" Jubilee sneered, tone uncharacteristically malicious as she tossed the book to the floor.
"I could ask you the same," Amara returned evenly. "You've been moping around here like a lost puppy and avoiding Ray like the plague. Have anything you want to share with the class?"
Jubilee scoffed as she returned to her pyrotechnics. "Hardly. I've just been preoccupied-"
"'Paffing' your problems away is not preoccupation, it's distraction," Amara interrupted swiftly, closing her book and setting it to the side. "And forced distraction at that."
The raven-haired teen sat up at that, eyes narrowed. "So my fireworks are like your studying?"
Chestnut eyes widened a bit before narrowing. "No. My studying is preoccupation. It is something I do regularly that engrosses my mind and takes up a great deal of my time," the young princess explained smartly. "Your pops and crackles, on the other hand, are a method of diversion. It's not something you normally do but you're doing it now in an effort to distract yourself. To hinder your thoughts of something or someone."
Jubilee's mouth dropped open as she sat there, gaping like a fish out of water. "Shut up," she shot back after a moment. "I'm not thinking of anyone. It's none of your business anyway."
000
Ray grinned as he spotted Amara walking toward him. It had been two days since he'd shared that moment with her outside of Roberto's recovery unit and he'd found their eyes meeting in McCoy's lectures more often than not. She was worried about Roberto, who had yet to make a public appearance since his release, no doubt.
It was a relief to know that she genuinely cared about him and honestly her timing couldn't be more perfect. He'd literally been looking for her all day. Roberto was getting on his last nerve, wallowing in self pity and Ray was sure that, despite their fight the other day, Roberto's spirits would be lifted at the sight of her.
"Just the woman I was looking for," he greeted with a sly smirk.
Amara rolled her eyes and stopped before him. "Jubilee's not in tow today, sorry," she sneered good-naturedly, prompting a laugh from the usually reserved mutant.
He shook his head and took her arm gently, pulling her to the side with him to allow Sam to pass by. He and the younger man shared a glare and Ray waited until he was out of sight before turning back to Amara. "Funny girl," he quipped before admitting: "I actually do have ulterior motives but, for once, they have nothing to do with your shadow."
Amara quirked a brow at him before glancing down at where he still held her arm. He quickly dropped the appendage as though burned and cleared his throat. "Roberto's been a bit out of it lately and I think you just might be what the doctor ordered."
Her suspicious gaze turned panicked as she shook her head and backed away from him. "Oh no," she began as he reached out and caught her arm again. "I honestly don't think that's a good idea."
Ray smiled, noting the slight informality of her speech and thinking that maybe Roberto was having more of an effect on her than he'd originally thought. "Oh but I do," he returned confidently. He knew with a hundred percent certainty that if anyone could pull his friend out of his current funk, it was the beauty in front of him. "I'm not asking you to throw yourself at him like some common...harlot-"
"Harlot?" she inquired curiously, pinning him with an adorably puzzled expression.
"Hussy," he supplied awkwardly. The term only earned him another bewildered look. "Floozy." Chestnut eyes blinked cluelessly, though her mouth was beginning to morph into an amused smirk. "You're just yanking my chain, aren't you?"
She nodded guiltily. "You had me at harlot," she admitted with a full-blown grin. "But it was a bit entertaining watching you flounder around for terms more suitable with my upbringing as opposed to slang."
Ray shook his head, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "As I was saying, I'm not asking you to go in there and seduce him, all I'm saying is that it might cheer him up a bit to see you," he explained, eyes downcast in preparation for what he was about to say. "Maybe apologize for what happened the other day..."
Her eyes narrowed, expression changing dramatically at his words.
"Not that you have anything to apologize for," he amended quickly. "Just to pacify him. Get him to leave our room." A pause. "Please," he pleaded, eyes widening in a sad, soulful way. "I'd consider it a favor." Her gaze softened marginally and, sensing the change, he pushed a bit further. "I'd owe you."
She seemed to be considering his proposition before: "Girls aren't allowed in the boys' dormitory."
"You just let me worry about that."
000
Amara wasn't entirely sure just how she'd been bamboozled into Ray's little scheme but she was very certain that she officially wanted out. As if asking her to go visit that arrogant...stubborn...cretin wasn't bad enough, she was forced to wear said subject's clothing to disguise herself long enough to get into the boys dormitory undetected.
She was so lucky that Storm was on dorm patrol this week instead of Wolverine.
"I'm beginning to think that this isn't such a good idea, Ray," she whispered as she struggled to hide her bra strap in a shirt that was literally falling off of her, all the while stumbling around in pants that were way too long.
Ray was completely unhinged if he thought for one second that this ruse would fool anyone. She was most definitely not a boy, even in men's clothing.
Especially in men's clothing.
Her only salvation was that he'd been kind enough to acquire a belt for her while dreaming up this insane scheme. The last thing she needed was trying to hold her pants up on top of everything else.
"The idea is fine," he assured with a chuckle. "And the clothes will do in a pinch at a glance. We just have to keep moving so no one has the chance to look again." A pause and then: "Quit fidgeting."
She huffed, drawing up as Jamie passed them, too occupied with his phone to even look up at them. "I can't help it. How in the world do you guys wear stuff like this?"
Ray had the audacity to laugh at her before: "It's more comfortable when the clothes actually fit. Roberto is a good two to three times bigger than you are, princess."
Amara scowled at the nickname and grumbled disgustedly. She knew he was bigger than her. In all actuality, she was acutely aware of it. "Then why did you have to get Roberto's clothes?"
Ray's expression took on an alarmingly devious quality that, if she were completely honest, scared her a bit. "Because he's my roommate and I could take them without him noticing...and I'm too tall," he explained easily.
It had nothing to do with the fact that Roberto would surely flip when he saw her wearing his clothes. In the best way possible if Ray knew him like he knew he did.
She opened her mouth to protest but he merely said: "Good luck," as they reached the room he shared with Roberto before opening the door and shoving her inside.
So maybe he'd lied when he'd told her he didn't expect her to seduce him.
000
Amara gasped as she was unceremoniously thrown into Roberto's room, turning with a glare as the door slammed shut behind her.
'Conniving fiend!' She thought venomously.
"Damn it, Ray. How many times do I have to tell you to keep it down?" Roberto groaned.
Amara turned sharply, eyes searching the room frantically. She squinted in the dark but couldn't find him despite her best efforts. "Um, it's not Ray," she mumbled, wringing her hands in front of her.
He bolted up, disturbing the piles of blankets covering him from where he lay on his bed and stared at her with wide, dazed eyes.
She was here.
She was wearing his clothes.
Why was she wearing his clothes?
Chocolate eyes roved her form hungrily, taking in everything from how she filled out his maroon sweater to the way his cargos hung off her form. She was so tiny that it made him ache and the mere glimpse of her bra strap had him drooling.
"Well the noise was Ray but I'm not," she rambled quietly, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. His stare was disconcerting.
He cleared his throat as he threw the rest of the blankets away from him and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was shirtless and he looked terrible. His hair was a spiked mess, his face was shadowed by two days of scruff and bruises covered his face and chest. She'd never seen him look so unkempt.
She scoffed, surprising them both. "I see you've not only become a recluse but you've apparently forgotten everything you knew about hygiene as well."
Roberto's eyes narrowed as he rose from the bed and stalked over to his dresser, his back to her. Leaning down he braced himself against the sturdy wood and peered into the mirror, grimacing at his own reflection. "And how exactly am I supposed to effectively maintain good hygiene with my arm in this damned cast?" he growled out, slamming his hand into the wall and disturbing the mirror enough to make it shake.
Rolling her eyes, Amara took a step toward him. "You're not helpless," she began, softening her tone against his anger. "You just need to adjust; adapt to the situation."
Turning swiftly, he raised his right arm and shook his cast at her. "Look at me," he demanded lowly. "I can't even hold a pencil, let alone a razor for Christ's sake."
Amara averted her gaze from his penetrating chocolate orbs and turned her attention to the dresser behind him. "Well no wonder you can't hold your razor," she muttered, eyes hardening as she pushed past him. "Who shaves with these anymore?" she wondered aloud, plucking an old fashioned straight edge from the sideboard.
Roberto mumbled something about rich families, nostalgia and tradition before carefully snatching the razor from her and returning it to the dresser. "Is there a reason for this visit?" he implored with a sneer. "Aside from criticizing my hygiene and grooming habits?"
She was silent for a moment and he took the opportunity to look her over. He had to admit: she looked very appealing in his clothing.
Who was he kidding? She was downright edible in his clothing. Her hair was up and messy and gave him a teasing view of her neck.
What he wouldn't give to be able to lean forward and...
"What if I agreed to help you?" she began unsurely.
He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What?"
She was fidgeting and wringing her hands nervously and he wanted to take her by her shoulders and shake her. She shouldn't fear him, he'd never hurt her. She should know that.
"What if I helped you clean up?"
000
No one had ever given him a shave before. It was a different experience and, given his choice razor, a bit dangerous. Should she choose to, she could slit his throat and he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it and, even though she would never do such a thing, that vulnerable feeling was still there.
Truth be told, he found it a bit sexy. It hadn't seemed that way at first when she'd made the offer but now, with her sitting between his legs in front of him on his bed, it was a different story.
She was so close that his senses were in overdrive and he could literally feel everything about her. He could feel every move she made, every blink of her eyes, every swipe of her tongue across her lips and every breath she took as she gently shaved him.
The sleeve of his sweater fell down to her elbow as she worked, revealing a slender wrist that he was sorely tempted to kiss. The only sound in the room was the scraping of the straight edge against his stubbly cheek and while it wasn't the most romantic sound, it was peaceful. It was their own music.
Chocolate eyes zeroed in on her face and he smiled at the concentration he found there. "Where did you learn to do this?" he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder he'd startle her into accidentally murdering him.
She laughed, a low throaty sound so different from her usual princess-like giggle. "My father uses a straight razor because it's tradition, because we are fond of the old ways. My mother used to perform this service for him," she explained hesitantly. "I always thought it looked like fun; they always had a good time together, laughing and-" she cut herself short, instead licking her lips nervously. "I used to ask when I could shave daddy's whiskers and one day she taught me." A bittersweet pause and then: "After she died...sometimes when he was really sad I would do this for him and he would smile and tell me I looked like my mother."
Silence filled the room as he sat there, absorbing her story. She finished rather quickly after that and, as she was running her hand across his jaw to assess her work, he carefully cupped her face between his dark hands, mindful of the rough material of his cast. "If your mother looked anything like you, she must have been an angel." He leaned toward her even as her eyes began to shine with water. "But it's hard to imagine anyone being as beautiful as you are."
She gulped as he moved in but didn't pull away. Despite her best efforts, against her better judgment, she'd been waiting for this.
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