The following does not reflect the views or opinions of Marvel or the author known as 'Kinetically Charmed'.

Entry number twelve:

Well, it's been a few weeks since our double date, but we haven't had much time to dwell on it. Rogue and I have been pretty busy studying for mid-terms. Rogue in particular actually, she's kind of gone into panic mode which means that she and Chad have started studying together, since apparently Chad knows Marketing.

This is incredibly beneficial to me because Rogue has been staying behind in the city with Chad, so Professor Xavier has finally come around to putting me back on the insurance, so I don't have to hang around the school library waiting for her to finish.

That's right guys, I can drive again.

And it couldn't have come at a better time either, really, because Doug and I have started volunteering at the library in the city. Tuesday evenings from five 'till six, teaching seniors how to work the Googles. That sounds really mean, but it's not, because that's basically what we're doing. And also, Logan calls it "the Googles" I swear.

So anyways, midterms are over now thankfully, and Rogue seems to be getting back to her normal self, apparently satisfied with her performance. Me on the other hand, I've got a nasty test coming up and have been dedicating the last few evenings to studying my face off.

My Fundamentals teacher is kind of a douche, setting up a huge test right after midterms.

So when we got home from school, Rogue was yammering away about Christmas decorations being set up too early, as we walked through the foyer with our bags slung over our shoulders, and I had my nose stuck in one of my text books.

Every once in a while I'd grunt in acknowledgment to make her think I was listening.

As we made our way closer to the rec room, her grumblings turned from Christmas, to the morons playing Rock Band as loud as they could.

"I'm (effing) surprised Logan hasn't said anything." She said with a frown.

"Give it time." I muttered, reading the same sentence for like the fourth time.

"They've even got the (effing) drums out. I don't care if it's a fake game, those drums are (effing) loud."

I nodded and closed my book as I started hearing the clicking sound of the drums she was talking about. I opened my mouth to comment on the fact that she sounded like one of the old guys Doug and I teach the Googles to when I stopped dead in the rec room doorway.

"What..."

The drummer glanced at me quickly before grinning at the TV, "Hey, Kitty bear!"

I gaped. In total and utter shock, for probably about 30 full seconds, before finally saying, "Dad!?"

There are no words to describe my shock. I mean, this is pretty characteristic of my dad, to just randomly decide to do things last minute, without telling anyone about it. Like the time he took his new family to Disneyland.

But seriously, I haven't heard from my dad in months... not even a text. It's kind of as if he forgets I'm there, and then suddenly he remembers and feels like he needs to make up for the fact that he forgot about his daughter all the way on the east coast, by doing strange things like buying me a giant 6 foot bunny, or flying across the country just to say "Hi".

"Sorry guys," My father said to Bobby and Ray, pausing the game in spite of their groans of protest, "Take five, hmm?" He stood up from the little drum stool and crossed the room to wrap me in a big hug. When he pulled back, holding me by my shoulders, he frowned.

"You're not happy to see your old man?"

"Uh..." This seems like a trick question. "It's not that, I'm just..."

"Surprised?" He grinned. I blinked back at him, which apparently answer enough, because his grin widened, "I was going to tell you but I thought it'd be more fun this way. I've got some business in the city, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to drop in and see my little girl."

Maybe next time, you could surprise me by taking me to Disneyland. Just a suggestion.

"It's good to see you Mr. Pryde." Rogue said with a smile, probably only really smiling at the potential for my embarrassment. I really question our friendship sometimes.

"You two girls stayin' out of trouble I hope?" Dad asked, observing the bags we were still carrying, "Not enjoying the college life too much, are we...?"

"I don't think that's possible, sir." Rogue smirked, and my dad gave her a wink.

"How about those teachers, they're treating you alright, Kitty bear?"

"Oh, Kitty bear's teacher treat her wonderfully. Especially her Intro to Computer Science conductor-"

"Thanks Rogue." I rolled my eyes, "Yes dad, my teachers are fine. Work load is fine, everything is fine."

"Good." He smiled, "Why don't you girls take a load off and come play a few sets with us?"

"You know, I'd love to Mr. Pryde, but I've got a... big Anthropology diorama that I have to complete for Monday..." Rogue said, as she was literally walking away, offering my dad a wave as she disappeared down the hall, "It was great seeing you!"

"Come on Kit, we need a singer." Dad said, swooping me into the rec room. "You just let us finish up Free Bird, it'll only be another five to eight minutes." He winked.

"Your dad is so awesome, Kitty." Ray commented to me while he slapped the plastic bass. Which sounds like a horrible euphemism, but is in fact, a literal statement. "He's the best drummer."

"He is the best fake drummer-" I gave my dad a broad grin and patted his shoulder, "Don't go giving him any ideas, Ray."

The guys all cheered over their amazing teamwork in achieving extra points for nailing a power note, or what have you, and I held up my text book with a frown, "I've got to go study pop. I've got a big test coming up-"

"Aw come on, you can't leave!" Dad pouted, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the TV screen while he fake drummed away, "You can study another time, can't you?"

"Well... not exactly. I-"

I was drowned out by another round of shouts of excitement as they all nailed the final note in unison. They were all apparently incredibly pleased with themselves for acquiring such a high score, which Bobby informed me was all because of my dad's skills. And as much as I tried to fight it, my dad talked me into singing with them for the next song.

One song, I said. That was it. One. Song.

So naturally, an hour and a half later I was singing an amazing rendition of Iron Maiden's Run to the Hills, when Pete came to a stop in the rec room doorway with a slightly confused expression on his face. I imagine he had been standing there for longer than I'd like to really think about, and I'm sure he was probably questioning our entire relationship as he watched me sing. Because guys... I'm not going to lie, I can go pretty cray cray.

I was standing on the couch, and screaming into the microphone like I was Axl Rose.

Of course, the moment I noticed him looming in the doorway, wondering to himself why exactly he was burdened with the task of loving me, I dropped the microphone to my side and stumbled off the couch, "Hey..."

I ignored Bobby and Ray yelling angrily at me to keep singing, lest I make them all lose, and set the mic down on the coffee table, punching the pause button on the controller.

"Hey." Pete replied, knitting his brow, "I thought you had to study tonight...?"

"I do-"

"Is this the guy?" My dad asked, his mouth set in a thin line beneath his mustache as he stood up.

"This is the guy." I forced a smile at Pete and flicked a hand behind me, "Pete, this is my dad. Dad-"

He stepped ahead of me before I could finish, sizing Pete up with his eyes. He does this with all of my boyfriends, like it's his God given right to puff out his chest and let any potential suitor know that he could easily bring them to their knees and leave them crying for their mother. It didn't even matter that Pete was easily six inches taller than him... What he lacks in height, he makes up for with intensity. And volume.

Eventually, apparently my father approved of Pete and a warm smile spread across his face, "Pete, was it?" My dad asked in his normal commanding tone, thrusting his hand out, which Pete shook in return, "Nice to finally meet you."

"Yes." Pete blinked, looking at me, "It is very nice to meet you Mr. Pryde-"

"Oh please, call me Cam." My dad stopped him, "Name's Carmen, but everyone calls me Cam. You up for some Rock Band?"

"Dad, God, please no."

"You're right, hon. We should probably pack it in." Dad conceded, casting an apologetic look to Ray and Bobby over his shoulder. "Sorry guys, another time."

"I would have been home earlier," Pete explained with a polite smile, "I thought Katya- Kitty had to study so I decided to put in some extra time at the studio-"

"Oh, you play an instrument?"

"No, dad, it's an art studio. Pete's an artist, remember? I told you that. He's a painter." I cut in.

"I... kind of thought you were kidding." Dad said frankly, giving Pete a chuckle and shrug, "No offense."

"That is- no, it's fine." Pete smiled graciously.

"I mean, I guess it's a good hobby but I never really thought anyone could make a living out of it, you know? Unless you're Bob Ross. But you're not Bob Ross, because Bob Ross is dead." My dad knit his brow suddenly and shook his head, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to put your life choices down. I just want to make sure my daughter's not going to be living on the streets in a refrigerator box some day."

I closed my eyes and shook my head, "So you're in town for business, pop?"

"Yeah, the bank's opening a new branch in the big city, so I'm gunna be around for the next few days." He smiled at me, "Thought I'd take my girl out for Thanksgiving dinner or something."

"Why don't you come here?" Ray called out from somewhere behind us.

"Yeah!" Bobby agreed, "We have a bitchen Thanksgiving, Cam. You should join us."

"Don't call my dad Cam, Bobby." I snapped over my shoulder.

"You could even stay here if you'd like, I'm sure the Professor won't mind, and we've got tonnes of room." Bobby the ass continued with a smug little smile.

"Nah," My dad waved Bobby's stupid suggestion off, "Work's footing the bill for my hotel, and I've already checked in and everything." He looked back to me with a hopeful smile on his face, "I thought we could hang out tonight..."

I knit my brow and looked at my watch, trying to think of the nicest way possible to blow him off. It's not that I didn't want to spend time with him, but I seriously did need to study. My dad doesn't seem to understand that I actually do need to work to keep good grades, he just assumes that I'm insanely brilliant.

"Yeah, okay..." I began hesitantly, "It's just that... I've got a big test tomorrow and I really do need to go over my material because the teacher is kind of a hard ass."

"That's fine, kid." Dad waved me off, "What do you need, 25 minutes?"

"Couple hours?" I shrugged, ignoring his lame joke.

"No big deal, it'll give me and Pete a chance to get to know one another. We can go out for a drink or something, sound good Pete?" My dad said, putting my poor boyfriend in an incredibly difficult position. To his great credit, he simply smiled, and shook his head,

"That sounds fine with me."

Dad clapped Pete on the shoulder and narrowed his eyes, "You're sure you're not willing to think about a career in music...? I mean, it's just that I have some connections out in LA, I could probably talk to a few people and-"

"Dad, not a musician." I stopped him, "He's a painter. The skills aren't transferable."

"Right. Got it." My dad nodded, even though I'm sure this isn't the last we've heard of this subject, by far.

"Maybe you two can meet up with Logan, I'm pretty sure he's gone to Harry's." I turned to my father and explained, "That's a bar. But I've never been inside, because I'm under age, and I do not drink."

I saw Pete press his lips together in a very thinly veiled attempt not to laugh, and my dad reached out, ruffling up the hair on the top of my head with a smile,

"You're such a good little liar. I taught you well."

And then they left.

It was three hours before I saw Pete again. He poked his head inside my room to let me know that he'd made sure my dad returned to his hotel room in one piece.

"Thanks." I said carefully, seeing the exhaustion from the night out in his eyes, "I'm really sorry for-"

"It is fine." He said, graciously letting me off the hook for sticking him with my dad for the evening.

"You look tired."

"I have just had a glimpse of my future. Every major holiday for the rest of my life..." He rubbed a hand over his face, "It was exhausting."

I snort laughed and shook my head with very little sympathy, "Life with Illyana ain't exactly a cake walk, big guy. You don't marry the person, you marry the family."

He gave me a smile, "It might be a deal breaker."

"It definitely might." I snorted again, looking back down at my books, trying my best to hide my discomfort with our conversation skirting dangerously close to the marriage talk again.

"Oh, by the way," Pete said casually before he slipped away, "Sending us to Logan's bar was probably not one of your best ideas. He says he will see you in the Danger Room tomorrow morning at 5."

I was so preoccupied with the thought of Pete dealing with my dad that I didn't even think of LOGAN dealing with my dad.

So much for being well rested for my test tomorrow...