AN: Delays, delays! Sorry, I was looking for my funny bone. Now, where is it again--?…Ahh, here it is--right under the bed, next to where Wolvie and Ororo are...er, making out...Eep! [:blushes furiously:].

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All Halle's Breaking Loose

Ororo was feeling particularly smug when she entered the rec room, and didn't seem to mind that that movie was still on the television screen. She didn't care to see any more of it, but seeing Rogue glued to the program with the vacant, sapped look of an entertained teenager, she couldn't help but sneak up behind the girl.

"Well?"

Rogue squealed and jumped from her chair.

"Ms. Munroe, you scared me half to death. How long you been hoverin' over me like that?"

Ororo allowed herself a small smile. "Not long. And I do apologize, Rogue. You seemed so terribly engrossed in the movie, I couldn't resist."

"It's at a scary part. These two guys are about ta pop this computer ha--yuck!" She made a face at the screen, just as a bullet spit a character backwards. "Gross!"

"I concur," Ororo said. She wrinkled her nose just as a second character caught three bullets to the chest. "I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't Ginger," she muttered.

"Who?"

"Ginger. She's the character who Logan believes looks like me. I don't see it."

"Well," Rogue said. She paused the movie and turned halfway in her seat, grinning at her history teacher. "I'm still waitin' for that part. You haven't shown up yet."

Ororo's eyes narrowed as she joined Rogue on the couch. "She is not me," she scolded. "That woman does not resemble me in any way, shape, or form."

Rogue looked at her like a cat with a mouse. "We'll just haveta see 'bout that, now won't we?"

"No, we won't," Ororo said primly. "It's obvious that she doesn't resemble me."

"Suuure, Ms. Munroe. Suuuure."

"On the other hand," Ororo said, changing the subject, "the Stanley character is a dead ringer for Logan."

"He said you thought he looked like one of the characters. He's just as against the idea as you are." She shook her head, imagining the idea that not one but two of her favorite adults in the world made a movie together. It made them practically famous. "Speaking of Wolvie, where the blazes did he get to?"

A ghostly smile floated across Ororo's lips. "He's probably still in the kitchen nursing his...pride."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Rogue. I'm sure he'll show in a few moments, after he calms down."

"Oh, okay," the girl said. She made a funny face and hit the play button, just as the object of their conversation entered the room.

Rogue was about to call him over, but the look he shot her convinced her that maybe he wasn't in the best of moods. Still, if it was any consolation, the look he gave Ms. Munroe was even worse.

"Feeling all right, Logan?" Ororo asked.

Logan snarled, stabbed his finger at Ororo, and opened his mouth to say something, but at the last moment he just shook his head and dropped his finger. "Never mind," he said, teeth clenched. "It ain't worth it."

"It didn't seem like that a few minutes ago."

He growled darkly, slid on the couch next to Marie, and grabbed the remote from the teen while systematically flipping channels. "Go fly in a thunderhead, goddess."

"Heyyyy--!" Marie's high-pitched squeal made him wince. "I was watchin' that, ya big bully!"

"And now ya ain't. The fight's gonna be on in a f--"

"Nothin' doin'." She slapped his fist and plucked the remote from his fingers. She rewound the DVD and paused it at the police station. "I ain't lettin' ya get outta this that easy."

"What the hell--? Marie, go watch the flamin' movie somewhere else." He glared at Ororo. "An' take Lightning Chick with ya."

The girl nervously checked her teacher's face at the Lightning Chick crack, but Ororo was surprisingly calm. In fact, she almost looked pleased about something. "There ain't another DVD player in the house," Marie muttered. "'Sides, you an' Miz Munroe's big scenes're comin' up."

Both Logan and Ororo shouted, "it's not us!"

"Geez, okay, yah don't haveta take mah head off!" A funny look passed over her face, and suddenly the blood in the adults' veins became ice cold. They knew that look. It meant she had an idea--a bad one--and that everyone in a fifty mile radius should run for the Kentucky hills. "Well, if you two don't let me see the rest of this movie now, I'm gonna make up the rest an' tell everyone what I 'saw,' whether it's true or not...and neither of ya're gonna know what we're laughin' 'bout behind your backs."

"You wouldn't," Ororo hissed.

Logan folded his arms. "Yeah, the little snot would."

"Great! It's settled." She patted the cushion next to her. "Sit, Ms. Munroe."

"I am not a puppy," Ororo muttered, but she settled in beside the teen. Logan made a small growling noise, but Ororo ignored him.

"All raht, you two," Rogue said, hitting 'play.' "Play nice. Don't make me get mah paddle."

"Yeah, 'Ro might like it too much," Logan muttered. He winced when Rogue twisted the skin on his arm. "Ow!"

"Behave. Ah mean it," she said, staring at Ororo's sour face. "Not one more word."

The adults grumbled and slid further in their seat, but Rogue smiled, satisfied. She finally had the last word.

* * *

"OHMAHGAWD!"

"What, what--?"

Rogue had turned crimson and the remote dropped from her fingers. Her mouth was open, in a silent scream and she doubled over, holding her sides. Logan and Ororo began shouting orders at one other and panicking and asking if she was okay, wondering if she was under some kind of physical or mental attack.

Ororo held on to Rogue's arms and barked at Logan over her shoulder. "Logan! Jean's lab! The emergency medical k--"

Rogue smacked Ororo's hands away, catching her breath, and a loud, high-pitched wheeze tumbled from her lips. Logan finally caught the scent. She wasn't in pain. She wasn't dying. She was laughing.

"Oh, brother," he growled.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA"--gasp--"HAHAHAHAH!"

"You had us scared to death, Rogue," Ororo mumbled, sinking back into the couch. "It's not that funny."

"HAHAHAH--! IT'S Y'ALL! I CAIN'T...BREATHE...HAHAHAHAH--"

"Yeah, yeah." Logan popped a beer top and drained it. "Shut up, already. It ain't that big a deal. And that ain't me."

"Yeah, it is! It's both of ya!" Rogue started calming down and grabbed the remote. Tears were streaming down her face. "Man-o-man, wait 'til the gang sees this one. They're gonna bust!"

"No, they won't," Ororo said, grabbing the remote and snapping off the television.

Logan was about to about to agree with Ororo until he realized he was still angry with her, and he could milk this for all it was worth. "Now, hold on, 'Ro," he started. His lips curled in a slight sneer and Ororo's eyes narrowed to slits. "Like the kid said, we wouldn't want her to come up with anything new. 'Specially if Ginger's got some skimpy scene I don't know about. Wouldn't want the school to laugh 'bout yer undies, would ya, 'Ro?"

"Logan..."

He could hear the warning tone in her voice, and it fueled the fire in him. Revenge, goddess? I'm gonna serve you up a big slice of it. Right next t'yer humble pie.

"What, ya chicken, 'Ro?" He flapped his arms and screeched, "bok, bok" at the top of his lungs. "'Fraid of a little competition? 'Fraid Stanley'll make ya look bad?"

Rogue made a face and was about to interject, but the adults were on full tilt. Nothing short of Magneto or a nuclear war could've separated them now.

"Ooh...! If nothing else, you should be the one 'afraid'!" Ororo snapped the television back on angrily and stabbed the television screen with the remote. "See? Ginger's leading you like a lamb to the slaughter. She has the upper hand, not you."

"Uh, huh," Logan snarled. "Care ta make a bet on that?"

Ororo watched smugly as Ginger kissed Travolta on the lips, and stared at Stanley like a poor, pitiful lost child. "What are you squawking on about? What kind of asinine bet?"

Logan leaned over Rogue and plucked the remote from Ororo's hands to get her attention. Rogue sunk back into the back of the couch as far as possible, wishing at the moment that she had Kitty's phasing abilities.

"I mean," he growled, glaring at Ororo, "that we keep tabs on which character shows the other up the best. If Ginger shows Stanley up by the end of the film, I'll do whatever you want for a whole week. With no backtalk."

Ororo smirked evily. "Whatever I say?"

Logan feral grin widened. "As long as we ain't on any critical missions, yeah. I'll be yer personal cabana boy for a week. 'Course, if Stanley whups Ginger's little ass...Well. Same rules apply. You game, Goddess? Or are ya--BOK, BOK!--chicken?"

Ohh, Ororo thought, this is too good to pass up.

Logan offered his hand, and she shook it soundly. "Deal."

"Rogue," Logan said, sitting back in his seat. He took a cigar from his jacket and placed it between his lips. "You keep score."

"Uhh, okay," the teen said, unsure of the new development. "How?"

Ororo's lip quirked as a lusty blonde on the screen kissed Stanley and forced tequila down his throat. She glanced to see if either Rogue or Logan saw the scene--neither had. She stopped the DVD and ran it back thirty seconds. "I think each moment that's most embarrassing to us personally should be rated on a point scale. Would you agree to that, Logan?"

"Fine by me," he said. "Ten-point scale. One bein' the lowest an' ten the highest. Whoever's most embarrassed by the end of the movie loses."

"You want me to rate how embarrassin' this is for the both of ya?" Rogue squeaked. "Forget it! I don't want claws or lightnin' rammed through mah sweet southern body!"

"No, Rogue," Ororo said softly. Her eyes roamed like a hunting cougar's when she glanced Logan's way. "Although one of us might argue the point scale" --Logan snorted--"you have the final say. You will be the judge, and we will abide by your decisions."

"Y'all ain't gonna fry me or claw me if I do this, are ya?"

"Nope."

"No. Of course not."

Rogue sighed, shaking her head. "All right, you want it, you got it. But you two're crazier than a Seventh-Day Adventist high on Appalachian moonshine. When d'you want me ta start keepin' tabs?"

"Right now," Ororo said, pressing play.

Next up: Problems multiply when talkative teens tally terrible traits! (hah! And they say alliteration's dead...).