"...I'll
go wherever you will go..." Kitty sang along to the radio, as she and Jubilation
lounged in the sunny Xavier kitchen on a beautiful Friday afternoon, counting
down the hours to the six o' clock showing of the new Ben Affleck movie.
Jubilation, leaning forward on her kitchen stool and gazing at the glowing
sky-blue monitor of her laptop, squinted her eyes as she read a particular
piece of information, before asking her chestnut-haired friend, "Who's
Brandon Boyd?" Kitty stopped singing along to the radio, and frowned, eyebrows
knitting in concentration as she pondered over the other girl's question.
"I
think he's the lead singer of Incubus," she finally said, shrugging her
shoulders. "I'm not sure though; I mean that band's pretty much an underground
rock group, so I wouldn't know."
"Oh,
okay," Jubilation conceded, as she went back to viewing the web page she'd
brought up on her laptop. Kitty moved over in her stool and leaned over
the Chinese girl's shoulder to peek at the site.
"What
are you looking at, anyway?" she wanted to know, scanning down the list
of names, some familiar, most unfamiliar.
"Oh,
just some poll about who's the Sexiest Frontman of Rock & Roll," Jubilation
murmured absently. Kitty's eyes lit up.
"Oh,
that's so easy, I have to laugh," she said, giggling. "It's got to be without
a question Mark McGrath from Sugar Ray."
Jubilation stopped browsing, as a thundercloud
began to pass over her eyes.
"Excuse
me?" she demanded, her voice rising several notches. "You must be joking!
Everyone knows that Matchbox Twenty's Rob Thomas is the sexiest frontman
in rock history!"
Kitty's eyes began to narrow.
"Uh,
no, I wasn't joking," she seethed. "It's Mark McGrath!"
"No,
it's Rob Thomas," Jubilation gritted out in return, stubbornly sticking
to her guns.
"Mark!"
Kitty yelled.
"Rob!"
Jubilation retorted.
"Mark!"
"Rob!"
"Mark!"
"Rob!"
Just
then, Rogue, Jean, and Amara entered the kitchen as a group, and heard
the commotion. Rogue wrinkled her nose, as she crossed the airy, sunlit
room to the refrigerator and reached inside to grab a bottle of iced raspberry
tea.
"What
are you two fussing over?" she demanded moodily, appearing to be in an
even sourer disposition than usual. Kitty and Jubilation stopped throwing
the two names at each other, and turned around as one to face Rogue.
"Jubilation's
saying that Rob Thomas is the sexiest rock frontman, which is obviously
so
not true, since we all know Mark McGrath is the most desirable man in rock
& roll," Kitty explained. Jubilation's chestnut-brown eyes shot daggers
at the pretty brunette.
"Excuse
me?" she spat out. "You just go ahead and try to find one person
who can honestly say that some bleach-blonde surfer bum is sexier than
Rob Thomas!"
"Oh,
I can find more than just one--" Kitty started to exclaim heatedly, when
Rogue broke in.
"Ugh,
I honestly don't know why the two of you are getting so worked up over
this," the moody Southern girl grumbled. Her tone cleared a bit, as she
admitted blushingly, "Besides, I personally think that Jon Bon Jovi is
the most desirable man in rock & roll. What can I say, I like high
cheekbones in a guy."
At this unusual moment, both Amara and Jean turned
to stare at their companion, while Kitty and Jubilation forgot what they
were bickering about and joined the other two girls in gawking at Rogue.
The slim, auburn-haired Southern girl turned to look at all the eyes on
her.
"What?"
she demanded grumpily, and the others quickly lowered their eyes. Rogue
let out an insulted huff. "Ugh, just because I listen to Marilyn
Manson doesn't mean I'm going to be so crazy as to nominate him
as the Sexiest Frontman of Rock & Roll!"
Amara Acquilla bit down thoughtfully on her lower
lip, as she leaned over to scan the list of candidates on the website poll.
Her eyes lit up as she closed in on a particular name, and she let out
a squeal.
"Whoo
hoo! I knew he would make it!" Amara cheered happily, looking like
she wanted to do a little victory dance but was refraining from doing so
due to the very much unwanted audience she would then have.
"Who
made it?" Jean asked neutrally, as Amara gave a happy sigh before murmuring
dreamily, "Johnny Rzeznik from The Goo Goo Dolls."
Kitty scowled.
"Ugh,
how can you find him sexy, he looks like he just got out of bed
with that wild hairstyle of his!" she scorned. Amara turned to look at
her like she was crazy.
"Duh!
That's what makes him so sexy!" she spoke.
"Well,
personally, I still say that Rob Thomas is the hottest guy in rock..."
Jubilation began to proclaim, at the same time that Rogue cut in with,
"Will you three just give it up on your guys, I mean, have you seen
Jon Bon Jovi's cheekbones?"
"I'm
telling you, Mark McGrath is the most desirable rock frontman...!" Kitty
pouted stubbornly. Jean watched the exchange, and began to feel an incoming
migraine, as she tiredly rubbed her temples.
"Will
the four of you just knock it off?" she scolded. "You're fighting over
who's the sexiest rock frontman as if you were actually going out with
your candidates!"
At this, Kitty, Jubilation, Rogue, and Amara
fell silent, much to the beautiful redhead's relief, then seemed to turn
and join forces to confront said redhead. Jean stared in wary bewilderment
as the four girls advanced on her.
"And
what about you, Jean?" Amara wanted to know.
"M...Me?"
Jean stammered, instinctively backing away from the quartet.
"Yeah,
Jean, who do you think should be awarded the title of the
Sexiest Frontman Of Rock & Roll?" Jubilation asked.
"Don't...don't
be silly," Jean laughed nervously. "I'm already in a relationship, it's
not fair for me to be checking out rock stars when I have a boyfriend."
"Aw,
c'mon," Kitty urged. "Surely you must have at least one celebrity
crush, even while dating Lance!"
Jean hesitated, a guilty blush beginning to stain
her cheeks, and the other girls pounced on her embarrassment.
"Come
on, Jean, fess up," Rogue murmured. "Who is it?"
"Yeah,
Jean, who's your Sexiest Rock Frontman?" Kitty wanted to know. Jean sighed,
before throwing up her hands in defeat.
"All
right, all right," she finally murmured. "If you must know, personally
I think Creed frontman Scott Stapp is the sexiest man in rock & roll.
Now are you happy?"
"Very,"
Amara said, giggling.
"And
that was My Sacrifice, by Creed," the radio DJ said, as Jean blushed
and the other girls giggled. "Up next, we have the usual song dedications!"
"Yay!
I wonder what Pietro's come up with this time!" Kitty cheered, as she and
Rogue, Amara, and Jubilation made a mad dash for the radio, much to the
relief of a now scarlet Jean.
"Now,
the message says that a certain Evan Daniels has been feeling down in the
dumps lately, so he's dedicated this song to himself to cheer him up,"
the DJ continued. Kitty scrunched up her nose in confusion.
"Huh?
The last time I spoke to Evan, he was raving about how there was a radio
DJ conspiracy out against him, and looked more paranoid than down," she
wondered out loud.
"From
Evan to himself," the DJ announced dramatically. "Not A Girl, Not Yet
A Woman, by Britney Spears!"
As waves of mad giggling rang across the kitchen
and Kitty finally figured out her question, one could almost swear they
heard Evan stop ranting about the evil DJ's and holler, "PIETROOOO!"
"Pleasure
working with you, Dilbert," Pietro chirped brightly, as he forked over
the cash. The DJ glared at him, before gritting out, "For the last time,
Mr. Maximoff, my name is Chris!"
"I
know, Billy Bob, I know," Pietro murmured soothingly, talking in a tone
people usually reserved for very young children.
"Chris,
you white-haired freak! Chris!" the DJ hollered impatiently, nearly throwing
down his headset onto the panel.
"Geez,
calm down Fonzi." Pietro blinked. "Calm down."
"Oh,
you little..." the DJ growled, grumbling under his breath in a rush of
incomprehensible descriptions about Pietro that surely couldn't be too
flattering to the silver-haired youth.
"...Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice
In Chains, and Soundgarten..." Tabitha rattled off. She then brightened
up. "Oh, and I think he also has a copy of--wait, wait! Okay: I know
he has a copy of Motörhead's No Sleep 'Til Hammersmith, so
that makes it both grunge and underground hard rock, but from what
I can tell, Lance's anthem album is actually Def Leppard's Pyromania.
You
know, Rock! Rock! Till You Drop and Rock Of Ages?"
"Well, can he possibly be
any more of a walking pun?" Rogue muttered sarcastically, trying to smother
a yawn. She and Tabitha had just spent the last hour discussing Lance's
favorite movies, Lance's favorite rock bands, Lance's favorite food...She
probably wouldn't have minded it so much if she was one of the hoards of
girls who lusted after Lance (and she knew more girls who had a crush on
him than she really cared to know), but the problem was, she wasn't
romantically interested in Lance. But what else could she do, when a manic
Scott had practically shoved her right through the Brotherhood's flimsy
wooden door and barked off like a drill sergeant that her mission was to
find out as much as she could about Lance and use that information to hook
up with him, leaving Scott free to chase after Jean. Which, Rogue might
add sourly, was something he had been doing for the past three years with
zilch success, but was something that Lance had accomplished in, what,
three days? Three hours, perhaps?
"Okay, now, he would never--and
I mean, never, ever--admit it to anyone, but he secretly listens
to hair bands of the eighties; it's his guilty pleasure, I guess," Tabitha
was droning. "There's Def Leppard, of course, but he waves the fact that
he owns a copy of Pyromania like a banner, so I guess that's not
a guilty pleasure. But, I definitely know that he secretly has at least
one KISS album and one Poison album each; I think he might also have Bon
Jovi's
Slippery When Wet, I'm not sure, though, I'll have to check..."
Outside, Scott, who was leaning
against the termite-ridden wooden front door of the humble Brotherhood
boarding house, tried to keep from yawning as he listened to Tabitha rattle
off information about Lance's likes and dislikes. Ugh, could this possibly
get any more boring? he thought to himself irritably.
"Oh, and you'll have the
see the way Lance chews his food in the morning..." Tabitha suddenly chirped
brightly. Scott felt like smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand.
Great!
I just had to go and open my big...um...Since he hadn't exactly
spoken out loud, Scott had to pause for a while to think. My big...um...my
big...mind! Yeah! That's it, my big mind...Wait a minute, that didn't make
me sound conceited, did it? Gee, I sure hope not, 'cause I may be all serious
and whatever, but no one can accuse me of being a stuck up, arrogant, snobby...Hey,
is that a quarter? Distracted, Scott didn't notice that he had been
leaning too hard on the rotting, termite-ridden front door of the Brotherhood
home, and ended up crashing through the flimsy wood and into the Brotherhood
home, just as Tabitha was rattling off to a suddenly interested Rogue,
"And you should really see him working out; he always wears this old ripped
black T-shirt...Oh, hey there, Shades. Didn't see you come in. So, like
I was saying, once, he started taking his shirt off before he hit
the showers, and the thing just ripped off--I mean, it was like a strip
show or something!"
Scott smiled weakly, as Tabitha continued to ramble a description of
how Lance looked like without a shirt to Rogue, who had seemingly taken
new interest in the topic, before quickly grabbing his gothic friend by
the hand and muttering, "We've got to go now. Danger Room session, and
all that lovely stuff."
"But she was just getting
to the good part...!" Rogue started to protest, as Scott ground his teeth
and yanked her out of the crumbling, rotting old Victorian anyway.
As soon as they were outside
and out of earshot of one blonde bombshell, Scott pulled Rogue aside and
demanded, "Well? What did you find out about him?"
Rogue darted one last longing look at the Brotherhood house--and Tabitha
and her stories of Lance working out--before reluctantly getting into Scott's
car.
"According to Tabitha, Lance
likes grunge and hard rock," she began. "He works out in a tight little
black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers, he secretly
likes eighties hair bands, such as Def Leppard and Poison, he works out
in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to
the showers, he supposedly chews in the most adorable way, he works out
in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to
the showers, his anthem is Def Leppard's Rock! Rock! Till You Drop,
he works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before
going to the showers, his favorite food is shrimp, he works out in a tight
little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going to the showers,
his main hobby is working out...and, oh, yeah, did I mention that he works
out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before going
to the showers?"
"Yes," Scott gritted out
in a clipped tone, then added, "Five thousand times in the last five minutes."
Rogue shrugged.
"Oh, well," she mumbled,
as she fastened her seatbelt and Scott began to pull out of the driveway
and head toward the Xavier mansion.
"So," Rogue ventured, "now
that I've learned everything I possibly could about Lance, how are you
going to use that knowledge to help you snag Jean as your girlfriend?"
"You'll see." Scott grinned
mysteriously--not to mention maniacally as well. Rogue shrugged again,
deciding that she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"Oh, oh!" she suddenly spoke
up. "I forgot something else that Lance does!"
"What is it?" Scott asked,
as he rounded a corner. Rogue looked pleased with herself that she had
remembered, as she took a deep breath...before promptly rattling off, "He
works out in a tight little black T-shirt which he then rips off before
going to the showers!"