Happy Mardi Gras everybody! Here's your gift!

Now, since Lent is tomorrow, don't expect me to update as much but in honor of this momentous occasion - the Super Bowl Trophy finally in New Orleans for a Mardi Gras - I offer you this spicy chapter along with a challenge: Tell me where I got my inspiration for 'it' (trust me, you'll know what 'it' is) and I'll post the next chapter later on today!

And now for your enjoyment....

Chapter 34

Lucien was not happy. Really not happy.

That bastard had hurt Noelle. She had nearly lost herself in everyone's emotions and then flown off, coming back half frozen. Never mind that the flight had cleared her up and she was happier than she had been since before Sofy had told her about the bastard cheating on her, she had been hurting. It had taken almost thirty minutes of a hot bath to thaw her out after her impromptu flying session and then she had been so… spacey…

Mama got that way sometimes when she and Père had come out of their room after a long session of he didn't want to know what – but he was completely certain that Noelle had not done what Mama was usually doing. And if she had, he would hunt down the no good fil de une putain who had taken advantage of her and blast him to kingdom come.

"Are you alright, Luke?"

He blinked and turned to smile at his Sofy. "Defahne okay, chérie."

"Not dead and relatively unaffected by Wolverine's extra training session for punching Denzel through a brick wall."

He snorted. "Dat extra session was a five minute target practice."

"That's it?"

"Monsieur Logan wasn' too pleased wit' da bâtard cheatin' on Noelle."

"Langue, mon frère!"

Lucien whipped his head around to see his sister, in one of her sexiest tops – something he knew the bastard had never seen or else he never would have broken up with her – a white peasant top that kept slipping down to reveal a shoulder and a lacy white bra strap. Her auburn hair had been brushed to its shiniest and was lifted into a rough twist that showed off her slender neck and allowed fistfuls of hair to fall messily down on the nape of her neck. Her jeans were slick and a slightly washed out shade of blue. She wore her high heeled boots, dangling golden earrings and the cross that she had been wearing since she had been big enough to wear a crucifix.

He grinned. Vengeance – every kid at Bayville High was going to be absolutely drooling over her – and the one guy who could have had her if he had waited and not been such a… his grin widened.

"What's that mean, Noelle?" asked the little Philadelphian girl Brianna.

"Jus' remindin' Luke o' his mannehs. Now come on, mes petites, le's get y'all some breakfast!"

The Thief grinned as he watched his sister, the wild, scheming glint back in her eye, whip cereal, oatmeal, and toast out for her kids. She was back to normal, and with the added desire for revenge on the one who had wronged her.

"You look beautiful, Noelle," Sofy said with a smile.

"Merci, ma belle amie, so do you!"

"Y' bot' beautiful," he interrupted, grabbing both of his girl around their slender waists. A kiss on Noelle's cheek and a kiss on Sofy's sweet lips.

"Alrahght, alrahght!" his sister cried, slapping his hand. "Le' go o' me so y'all c'n start makin' out."

Luke obligingly released her and buried his face into his girlfriend's feather soft black curls.

"C'mon mes petites," he heard his sister say to her children. "Le's go an' let dese kids finish makin' out."

And so, ignoring the others pouring in from all over the Institute in search of breakfast and stopping only to give Denzel (whose arm was now in a sling) the darkest look he could summon, he kissed Sofy until neither she nor he could walk or see straight.

"How interesting."

Sinister very carefully placed the two DNA blueprints next to each other and looked again. "How very, very interesting."

After several minutes pouring over the data, he straightened, laid down his magnifying glass, and went to his storage container of the blood vials.

He took out the two samples he was looking for. It took the barest drop of blood to run a paternity test – a mere formality as he was already certain who the father of this young man was.

It took an hour and a half and when the printout told him what he already knew, Sinister carefully typed this new information into his laptop. It had taken much longer than he had thought it would to track down mutant 3697B's father – but then, he had had to work from his A files all the way to his W files. It was rather annoying that it was Wilson rather than Banner or Grim.

But no matter, he thought as he collected his research and test results. He had found what he was looking for. Now it would be best to destroy these before the one calling himself Deadpool returned; though Sinister was fairly confident in the mercenary's ability to kill just about anything that came into his path, he didn't want to test the madman's attachment to his son.

Denzel nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Noelle come sauntering out of the house and climb into her brother's truck.

She had…

She looked…

His face screwed up in fury; she couldn't have done that when they were dating? No, she had to pull out the sexy shit after they had broken up.

Which wasn't his fault.

He scowled at her – from the slick jeans that hugged her sweet ass and the blouse that gaped deliciously at her neck.

It wasn't fair.

Vincent stole a cautious glance at the Thief girl as she took her usual spot beside him in AP US History. Her hair was brushed and tied untidily up and her skin was that strange golden color of a person who has spent too much time in the sun for something as trivial as a long Northern winter for the tan to disappear completely, rather than the rat's nest and the white and blue she had been yesterday. Monica had healed her lips; they were no longer chapped and torn, but smooth, pink and-

There, he interrupted his thoughts. They're there.

The only that had remained the same from yesterday were her eyes. They were still that emerald-silver color and looked as though they had captured stars to glitter in their depths.

He shook himself sharply. Since when y' so poetic?

His eyes traveled along down her body, admiring the white loose blouse she wore to the distraction of every male in the classroom except for himself and Mr. Cox who was probably incapable of noticing anything that hadn't happened more than twenty years ago. He lingered on her cross. She was always wearing that and only took it off during Danger Room sessions. He wondered carelessly how long she had had it.

Gritting his teeth with sudden frustration, the Assassin wrenched out his sketchpad. Who cared where she had gotten it? All that mattered was that he got her down on paper and used her face for his painting of a winged goddess.

So as Mr. Cox lectured on America's isolationism in the pre-WWII era, Vincent took quick looks at his neighbor and threw her image down. She had a good face – sleeker and more graceful than Sofy's – and good lines.

Pretty face or not, Vincent reminded himself as he shaded in her eyes, she was still a Thief and still his target. He thought of his uncle's knife neatly tucked away in its sheath at home – no, not home, the Institute – it was on his dresser. He had stopped carrying it around with him, choosing instead to carry around one of the concealed knives from the set the Thief girl had given him. It was slicker than his uncle's and fit better in his hand – not to mention it was better to throw. He could feel the ankle holster holding it safely under his jeans.

He could stick into that slender neck any moment he pleased.

But not until he had finished drawing it.

Several hours later he was effectively distracted from his steady drawing when Miss Fiennes asked to see his sketch in Art class. A bit annoyed at the interruption, the young man offered up his work and was immediately pleased to see the delight on his teacher's face.

"What a beauty! Is this the little girl in your painting all grown up?"

"Quoi?" he gasped. "'Course it ain'!"

Miss Fiennes looked taken aback by his vehemence. "Really? But you do not do your women the same – I've seen that in your other works – and I see a definite resemblance!"

His mood was significantly darkened.

Noelle noticed the staring right away. She was a Master Lady Thief after all.

However, as he wasn't bothering her or attempting to look anywhere he shouldn't and he had been kind enough to pass the milk to Claire that morning (he had stared at his hand in confusion right after Claire had said thank you), she allowed him to continue. She did make a note to snatch his sketchpad to see how he had drawn her; a model had the right to see how she was being portrayed.

That afternoon, she decided to give him an easier time in whatever he was doing so she took her children into the library for some story time and took special care to sit in a direct ray of sunlight. Even now as she read the story of Robin Hood to an eager gaggle of her ducklings, she could feel eyes on her.

"NOELLE!" Julia came tearing through the library, eyes bright and voice higher than any voice had any business being. "We got booth duty!"

She left off in the middle of the tale of the great archery competition to face off with the ecstatic young woman. "We got what?"

The bubbly teen seemed to be quite beside herself. "Booth duty! The kissing booth!"

Eyebrows shooting up into her bangs, Noelle stood up abruptly, dumping Dawn Summers on the floor. "Merde, sorreh hun. What're y' talkin' 'bout, Julie? Ah didn' sign up fo' no kissin' booth."

There should be a law for looking that chipper. "For the carnival! Remember? The student council is holding a big festival for Mardi Gras! And we've been chosen to man the kissing booth!"

Alrahght now, sug, Noelle told herself firmly. Jus' be keepin' yo'self calm. Don' be gettin' too mad. Don' snap off Julie's head.

"And what makes y' t'ink dat Ah'd wan' do such a stupid t'ing?"

"AAAAWWWWW!" Julie moaned. "C'mon Noelle! I already told them you'd do it!"

She had no pity. "An' who's fault is dat? Ah don' remembeh sayin' any't'in' lahke dat."

Julie's eyes widened as the girl fell back to the trick that worked on most of the others in the Institute: the puppy dog eyes. "?"

It took quite a bit of effort to keep from grinding her teeth. "Ah said no. Not afteh wha' happened las' year."

With an affronted toss of her brown hair, the petite brunette stomped away. "See if I ever help you again, Noelle LeBeau!"

Rolling her eyes, the Cajun shut the book and addressed her kids, all of whom were staring from the retreating Julia back to her.

"What's a kissing booth?" Jake Alvers asked first.

"I's a place where boys c'n go an' get kissed by pretteh girls fo' a dollah."

Allison looked insulted. "Kissin' y' should beh worth mo' den dat!"

That drew a smile from her. "Merci, petite chère."

"Why do they have to pay?" Tony asked. "We don't."

"Da kindsa kisses dey lookin' foh are different from da ones Ah give y'all."

Fatima hugged her fiercely around the waist. "The kisses you give us are the best I've ever besides the ones I got from Mother and Mummy."

Noelle bent and kissed the girl on the cheek. "Merci. Now! We got' get y'all readeh fo' dinneh. Go ta da dinin' room an' help Monica set da table."

They trundled off obediently, some of them demanding kisses before they went. She busied herself gathering up the blankets they had been lying on and folding them up. She was just laying them neatly in an armchair when a voice she had forgotten about distracted her.

"What happened las' year?" Vincent Boudreaux asked.

She shrugged. "Las' year I helped at da Spring Fling carnival at Bayville High an' t'ings got outta hand."

"Y' got attacked?"

"Ah wish. Ah was workin' da kissin' booth an' da boys wouldn' leave moi alone. Ah had ta hide durin' mah breaks an' even afteh we'd closed up da booth dey wouldn' leave. Luke an' Alex had ta beat 'em off."

The Assassin smiled grimly. "'S what y' get when y' use y' powers on men."

She made a face at him. "Didn' use mah powers on 'em. Jus' kissed 'em."

"Realleh."

Was that a challenge? "What? Y' don' believe Ah c'n kiss dat good?"

He snorted. "No. Now admit it, T'ief girl, y' used y' powehs."

With a groan, Noelle started picking up the books all over the floor. "Didn'."

She heard the squeak of leather as Vincent got up out of his chair. "Den 'splain ta moi how y' ended up havin' da boys follow y'. 'Less y' lyin', o' course."

"Ah don' lie. Well… no' today. An' Ah don' need mah powers ta kiss someone."

There was a scoff. "Dere is no way y' dat good a kisseh."

"Sho' dere is." She started sorting through the books, searching for another one to read to her kids.

"Y' hones'ly tellin' moi dat y' had a group o' men followin' y' aroun' 'cause y' were such a good kisseh."

"Oui. Ah am."

"Menteuse."

Okay, now there many things that annoyed Noelle LeBeau without getting her angry enough to tear your throat out, one of which happened to be calling her a liar. She turned around and glared at the young man walking towards the library door. "Ah am not lyin' Monsieur Boudreaux, Ah happened ta have all dose men eatin' out o' mah hand 'cause Ah happen ta be a fabuleux kisser."

"Y' ain'."

He was just trying to make her angry; she could feel his enjoyment and triumph at goading her. Well, she knew how to counter that!

Vincent smirked. He was getting quite a kick out of teasing the Thief girl.

"Oh no?"

His smirk widened – had she really reverted so quickly to two-word infantile rebuttals? He must really be winning. And the best part was that there was no way she could win this argument. No way at all.

"No."

"Oh yeah?"

Wow, this was the best she could come up with? He turned to face her and deliver his final word. Even though it was rather amusing to see her so close to him, her cheeks turning pink in anger and her jaw clenched indignantly, it was getting rather boring to have so obvious an advantage. "Yeah."

Suddenly her hands were on his chest and pushing him backwards. Okay, funness gone – where the hell was his knife?

"Y' asked fo' it, garçon!" she growled as his back hit the door of library.

Ah! His fingers curved around the hilt on his knife and got ready, feeling the Thief yank him forwards. The throat. It was the best bet for –

And quite abruptly he couldn't breathe for the lips on his.

What the fucking hell?

She was kissing him!

She was kissing him!

And not on the cheek this time either.

He dropped the knife and tried to back away, a noise of shock escaping, but he was pinned between the solid door and the equally solid, but softer, Thief.

She did something with her tongue and suddenly he couldn't remember why he shouldn't be kissing her. His arms wrapped around her slender waist and he tilted his head to better accommodate for their noses. She bit his lip lightly and he quickly and eagerly opened his mouth.

Her hands had a death grip on his shirt, but he had no intention of trying to get away. One of the hands that were stroking the delicate hollow on the small of her back was very slowly making its way up her spine, while the other fiddled with the hem of her blouse. Damn, she tasted good!

There were little shivers running through his body as his fingers tangled in her hair to cup her neck. He tried to steer her around and get her up against the wall where he could properly plunder her mouth, but she was having none of that. He couldn't move her but when her tongue twisted just so in his mouth it ceased to matter that he wasn't the one driving this. He pulled her close to him and kissed her back as hard as he could.

After what might have been days, the warmth against him retreated slightly and the sudden awareness of the dizziness that had been assaulting him hit. This told him several things, the foremost being he was no longer being kissed. The second of which being he should probably breathe in now.

The Thief girl stepped out of his grip and he fell back against the door and bonelessly slid down it. His ass hit the ground and he could only open his eyes and look up at her in dead shock. She, for her part, glared down at him and tugged her shirt straight fiercely.

"Well, mon ami, Ah'm sorreh Ah had ta get tough wit'y' but y' had ta learn!"

He was caught like a bug under those silver-emerald eyes, which softened a bit as their owner bent to his level and reached out. Where the hell was his training? Some part of his brain was howling as he sat there and let her wipe her lip gloss off him kindly.

And then she was gone.

And he was confused as hell with all the thoughts running around his head. Namely that she had been right – she was one hell of a kisser.

Noelle closed the library door carefully; it would be better if Vincent had some privacy to compose himself – she had kissed him harder and deeper than she had ever kissed Denzel – and she herself was going to need some time alone as well.

She made it to Ororo and Laura's greenhouses before her legs gave out. Sprawling out on the cold ground and breathing in the thick perfume of the roses, lilies, orchids and gardenias, she closed her eyes again and went over the kiss in her head. He was good at it – not quite as good as she was, but that he had even come close was extremely impressive considering she had taken him by surprise. As it was, it took a moment to steady herself and keep her hands from drifting over to brush over her lips.

The young Thief took a deep breath and remembered the feeling of the open sky. She breathed in the cool air and breathed out her confusion.

She was Noelle LeBeau, Master Thief, specializing in seduction – among other things. Noelle LeBeau did not lose her head just because a good looking Cajun with pretty eyes kissed her. She had been around those her whole life. For God's sake, she had been raised by the King of Hearts who had taught her every single trick a man could use to get women into bed.

Besides, she told herself walking to the dining room, she wasn't about to get tangled up with an artist – they were as bad as Thieves. Not to mention… I kissed him.

And there, ladies and gentlemen, is your kiss. Go Noelle!

fil de une putain – "son of a bitch"

Langue, mon frère– "Language, my brother"

Menteuse – "Liar"

Garçon – "Boy"