"Aw, is poor widdle Pie-Pie in pain?" the Brotherhood bombshell cooed, while Pietro glared before mumbling, "You know, as soon as my concussion goes away and I can pin down which one of the five yous is the real you, I am so gonna kick your ass!" Tabitha smirked, before sticking yet another Band-Aid onto one of his numerous cuts and bruises.
"Don't you wish, Scrawny!" she taunted, slapping a Band-Aid onto an old one that had begun to peel and fall off.
"Hey, keep it down over there,"
Fred complained from where he was, seated in front of the battered TV.
"Yeah, can't you see we're
trying to watch this real interesting news story that they're reporting
on the tube?" Todd added. Tabitha arched an eyebrow at his words.
"Since when did you two
Einsteins watch the news?" she wanted to know, while Pietro continued to
whine and pout pathetically under her medical treatment.
"Since they announced that
former Guns N' Roses guitarists Slash and Izzy Stradlin' beat the living
crap out of someone, tied him up with duct tape, and threw him into an
elevator because the poor guy was bugging their newest buddy, Creed guitarist
Mark Tremonti, about playing some gig on a romantic cruise tonight," Todd
gloated. Tabitha perked up at the mention of the two ex-Gunners, and promptly
ran over Pietro (literally!), stepping over all eighty-nine pounds of his
pitiful, bruise-covered body as she squealed, "Ooh! Slashie-poo!" As Tabitha
settled down to drool over the news footage of the three tall, dark-haired
guitar gods, Fred and Todd turned to look at each other, dumbfounded over
the blonde bombshell's particular nickname for a certain enigmatic ex-Gunner,
before muttering, "Slashie-poo?!"
They didn't have time to
ponder over the nickname for long, as the news anchor cut from that story
to one involving yet another member of Creed, as she intoned, "In other
news, two hours ago, a member of the St. Mary Cruise Line was run over
by Jagger Stapp, the three-year-old son of Creed frontman Scott Stapp.
The sailor was apparently pestering the rock frontman about a canceled
performance on the romantic cruise ship, to the point where Stapp told
his son, driving a custom-made Hot Wheels race car, to feel free to play
with the nice uncle who had come to visit. Needless to say, it is safe
to assume that the St. Mary Cruise Line will be thinking twice before harassing
a member of Creed again over canceled gigs."
"Aw, that's so cute!" Tabitha
cooed. The three male members of the Brotherhood, not as easily charmed
by the looks of the rock stars involved in both incidents, turned to each
other to share incredulous looks, before Pietro cracked, "Oh, yeah, innocent
sailors getting the living crap beaten out of them by pretty boy rock stars,
ain't that adorable...In fact, it's almost as cute as the raptors in Jurassic
Park!" Tabitha stopped drooling long enough to turn to Pietro, eyes
shining, and squealed, "I know! Weren't they adorable?"
"Eh heh..." The Brotherhood
males began to inconspicuously (except in Freddy's case, since nothing
that boy does can be inconspicuous!) inching away from the preening Tabitha.
"What do you mean he got
thrown down an elevator shaft by a bunch of hard rockers?!" the captain
of the St. Mary cruise ship hollered into the phone.
"I mean one of your sailors
was doing his job in trying to pester Creed guitarist Mark Tremonti into
performing, but it just so happened that Tremonti had made two new pals
in former Guns N' Roses guitarists Slash and Izzy Stradlin', and next thing
you know, the sailor got his scrawny ass handed to him on a silver platter,
before Slash and Izzy decided to tie him up with duct tape and throw him
into an elevator just for the hell of it!" the person on the other line
hastened to explain, before adding ominously, "Oh, and by the way? That
sailor dude's planning to sue your ass off on account of sending him off
on a highly dangerous mission--and by that, he means confronting two members
of Guns N' Roses!--without being properly armed or warned beforehand!"
The captain sighed tiredly, before mumbling, "Okay, so Christian got
his ass kicked by two ex-Gunners...and Joey got run over by Scott Stapp's
son."
"Yeah, and you know the
guy you sent over to bug Creed drummer Scott Phillips into performing?"
the other guy brought up. The captain of the St. Mary sighed again, running
a hand through his silver hair, before asking tiredly, "Don't tell me--he
got his ass kicked by Tommy Lee, who just happened to be hanging out with
his Creedie drummer pal?"
"Eh, close enough," the
person on the other end of the line cracked, before explaining, "No, in
fact, a bunch of Phillips's pet dogs tackled him to the ground in an effort
to play, and the guy, remembering all the recent dog maulings, promptly
got the hell out of the neighborhood, screaming bloody murder."
The captain began to feel an incoming migraine.
"Oh, this is just great,"
he grumbled. "How can it possibly get any worse?!"
Just then, one of the sailors poked his head into the cabin, mumbling
uncertainly, "Um...Captain? Fred Durst got lodged in again due to the twenty
layers of gangsta clothing he was wearing, and now he's stuck in the men's
room door, hollering obscenities and rapping about he ain't playing no
nuthin' until someone gets him dislodged!"
Meanwhile, happily clueless
to the cruise ship's highly unsuccessful efforts into weedling Creed to
perform that night, the couples were waltzing the night away on the dance
floor, having become more or less immune to the horrible screeches that
the GN'R cover band was blasting out of its amplifiers, supposedly a stunning
rendition of November Rain. Among the numerous dancing couples were
Scott with Rogue and Lance with Jean, with Scott making sure they weren't
too far away from the latter couple.
"Well, can you see them?"
Scott hissed out of the corner of his mouth. Rogue darted a brief look
at the happy couple, before sighing tiredly, "Yes. They're dancing and
smiling, and look absolutely in love."
"Well, we're just gonna
have to change that, now won't we?" Scott muttered gleefully. "After tonight,
I have a feeling that it will be you who's dancing with Lance, and me who's
with Jean."
"You're really that desperate
to push me into a relationship with Lance?" Rogue muttered grouchily. Scott
paused for a while, and looked almost concerned.
"Rogue," he murmured quietly,
"if you don't want to go out with Lance, that's okay with me."
"Really?" Rogue glanced
up, briefly locking eyes with him before looking away. Scott shrugged.
"Sure," he remarked. "Just
as long as you can help me get Jean away from Lance, I don't care who you
date."
"Oh." If Scott noticed the
suddenly distant, chilly tone that had overtaken Rogue's voice, he didn't
comment on it.
"Gee, maybe I should chase
after Lance, after all," Rogue muttered.
"Right. Lance," Scott replied.
"I mean, after all, you both like black, you both like rock music, and
besides, you and Lance totally complement each other, since..."
Rogue began to tune out Scott's words, as she silently tried to convince
herself, Hn, maybe I should go for Lance, instead of...I mean,
it's obvious that Scooter Boy's obsessed with Little Miss Perfect, so it's
not like I've got a chance...and besides, Lance is pretty hot...he
looks good working out...and he seems like a real sweet guy deep down...and
besides...I'm not really interested in him, she realized in dismay.
Looking up at Scott's face as he happily blabbered away about Jean this
and Jean that, Rogue began to feel the deep resentment she'd secretly harbored
against the seemingly perfect junior beginning to resurface. Look at
him. He's totally obsessed with Jean. But then again--why shouldn't he
be? It's only fitting that the two perfect, mature, and intellectual X-Men
date each other; hell, it's practically a damn rule that they should go
out and marry and have two kids and be the perfect examples of the perfect
American Dream! God forbid they spice things up a bit by having Miss Perfect
date the grungy bad boy instead--and yet somehow still manage to keep Scott
wrapped around her little finger! Rogue suddenly realized that, almost
unwittingly, she'd been clenching her fists tightly together.
"Rogue?" Scott's concerned
voice broke through her angry barrage of thoughts, and for the first time,
the gothic Southern belle realized that Scott had been speaking--and directly
to her, rather than rant and rave about how he and Jean were meant to be
together.
"Rogue? Are you all right?"
Scott asked, looking down worriedly at her.
"Oh, gee, you're actually
taking time out of your Stalk Jean Mission to ask about little old me's
whereabouts, ain't that sweet," Rogue snapped in a bitingly sarcastic voice.
Scott drew back, looking shocked and hurt by her angry words, before immediately
beginning to apologize, "Rogue, if I did something to upset you, then I'm
really sorry, and..."
"Look, just forget it, okay?"
Rogue muttered tiredly, and sunk back into her characteristic resentful
silence. Scott sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, as the couple continued
to sway back and forth to the music on the dance floor in an attempt to
keep up with Lance and Jean.
"Let me make it up to you.
Please?" he requested softly. "You really mean a lot to me, Rogue, and
the last thing I would want to do is intentionally hurt you in any way."
Rogue blushed, shyly raising her head to meet his eyes as she asked,
"You really mean that? About my meaning a lot to you?"
Scott broke off into a grin.
"Sure, I care a lot about
you." And he genuinely seemed to mean that, too. "Now, just as soon as
we break up Lance and Jean, I'll make sure to--"
Rogue's smile quickly disappeared, turning into an angry scowl. The
happy flush that had tinted her cheeks was gone, as the gothic vixen exploded
in a harsh, steely voice, "Jean this and Jean that! That's all you can
think about, isn't it?" Scott snapped back, stunned under the sudden arsenal
of words that a furious Rogue sent crashing against him.
"Rogue, what's the matter
with you...?" he started to ask, but Rogue had had enough.
"Look, you know what? Forget
it! Okay? Forget about making it up to me, and demonstrating just how much
I mean to you!" Rogue gritted out bitterly. "Just go off and chase after
Jean and marry her and have a bunch of babies and be the poster family
of the American Dream and all that lovely crap! I'm out of here!" And without
another word, Rogue twisted around on her heels and stormed off the dance
floor, leaving a stunned Scott staring after her.
"Rogue...?" he murmured
quietly, while onstage, the Guns N' Roses cover band finished their version
of the classic November Rain.
And when your fears subside
And shadows still remain
I know that you can love me
When there's no one left to blame
So never mind the darkness
We still can find a way
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
Even cold November rain
Don't ya think that you need somebody
Don't ya think that you need someone
Everybody needs somebody
You're not the only one
You're not the only one