Disclaimer: No, I don't own or are making any money off of any of the Marvel characters. Period.
Notes: This is my third attempt to finish a story. Be patient with me.
Rating: Pg-13 ...just because.
Notes on the story: You asked for it, so it's here. And in regard to the question about my last story that I haven't finished...stories rather, I don't know what happened to them, I just lost interest. Let's hope it doesn't happen with this one.
***
Chapter 2
On the space ship Galaxia.
I whirled around, already in the fighting stance that I had been taught so long ago. My heart was thudding in my ears, and my seemingly impended danger wasn't what worried me. It was Remy. What had happened, and why in the hell didn't he answer me?
***
Many years ago, in the mansion.
I throw a pillow at Jean's face, and it hits her squarely in the jaw, my voice rings out in a musical laugh and I shake my head, the auburn and white tresses caressing the middle of my back. "He did not get ya that!"
The other girl's laugh erupts shortly after mine, and she holds the pale purple pillow to her chest, knees curling up around it. "He did! And it didn't even fit!"
Valentine's Day. Gotta love it. Jean was telling me her old stories of what Scott had gotten her. Apparently they had gotten into a huge fight and Jean had called him boring, so he went out and bought her edible underwear. Jean nearly passed out from laughing so hard. Good ol' Scotty blushed and rebounded with a handful of daisy's ...might as well stick to what he's good at.
The only reason I'm being all social and buddy, buddy with Jeannie is that I need some kind of idea of what to get Remy. What do you get a guy that has everything? We've only been "officially" dating for about a year now, so what's enough? Gawd, I hate this stupid holiday.
"What do ya think 'bout a necklace?"
Jean wrinkles her nose, of course she's comparing it to what Scott would like, so I instantly see possibilities for the decision. "I don't know. What kind?"
I curl up on my side of the couch, feeling my eyes go distant as I picture that gorgeous hunk 'a Cajun, tight fitting pants, a shirt open to expose the bronze expanse of his chest...whoah, this wasn't getting me anywhere. I blink a few times and shake my head, rolling my shoulders into a small shrug. "Ah don't know."
Jean wrinkles her pouty lips and stands, adjusting her tiny sleeping shorts and white tank top. She winks at me. "You'll figure something out. But knowing Remy...you'll have something to compete with."
That was my signal to go. Obviously I made the red haired beauty nervous. I was used to it. The only one who wasn't squeamish around me was Remy, and sometimes that wasn't always a good thing. I was getting control of my powers, the Professor said so, and I could feel it. They just were a little temperamental sometimes.
I hop up, no hard feelings, right? My hands fall to my sides. I still wear the elbow length gloves, though the control in my hands is almost impeccable...old habits die hard, eh? The plush, green
terrycloth robe that Remy got me for my birthday gets tied at the waist tightly. It falls to my ankles, but the sleeves are rolled up, so I'm not worried about any extra contact that might happen. Besides, from here it's to the kitchen for a snack, and then hopefully to bed. "Thanks Jeannie, yoah right, good night girl."
I don't wait for her to reply, she's probably brushing her hair out or something, I just walk to the door and open it, quietly exiting.
Cool, and empty, the hall looked perfect, like something out of a movie. It was so clean. I know Xavier hires maids to clean, but I never see them. Even all the pictures are straight. It's almost eerie. My socked feet pad silently past portraits of landscapes and sober looking people in frilly dresses. My lips part and a soft tune escapes them. I couldn't place it if you asked, but it seems oddly familiar all the same. Turning into the kitchen, I flip on the light and head straight for the fridge. Storm was suppose to made some cookies after supper. They'd be cold, but nothing a little microwave wouldn't solve. After retrieving the cookies, I get myself a glass of milk. Can't have cookies if you don't have milk. It's a rule. And not any of that 2% stuff, or low fat. Milk isn't milk unless it's whole.
Mmm...frothy glass, warm cookies. What else could a girl want? Perfect midnight snack.
Of course these things don't ever last long. I inhale deeply, cookies, kitchen, cigarette smoke, and spicy cologne. Two out of four ain't bad. My slight tensing up has no doubt noted him that I know of his presence. But I'm almost willing to bed that if he didn't want me to know he was there, I wouldn't.
A bare sound of feet hitting the floor before I hear that voice. I'm so used to tensing that I forget sometimes that we do go out, and I don't have to dread his presence anymore. "'ey chere."
I feel him before I see or hear him. Feel his fingertips caress the robe lightly, and feel the soft warmth of his breath caress my cheek. He knows my limits and his, because he's pulled back and lounged in a kitchen chair before I can say anything. I'm suddenly not hungry, but thirsty, my mouth has gone dry. He has the tendency to do that to a girl. "Heya there Remy. Haven't see ya all day, whatcha been up to?"
I lean against the table's edge and dip my head ever so slightly so that my hair falls over my shoulder and covers some of my face. I can practically feel his seductive red on black eyes penetrating through. Two can tease I guess. He doesn't move, and if I didn't know better, breathe. "Jus' makin' arrangements chere, ya know how dat is." His voice isn't above a hare's breath.
"Arrangements? Foah what...mahgt Ah ask?" That had my curiosity peaked. I lifted my head, and tucked my hair behind my ear gently, eyes landing on him.
His own red on black eyes seemed to glimmer just a bit, and a smile tugged at his lips. "Now if Remy told ya what it was, it wouldn't be a surprise, chere." He winked at me, and my knees went weak, but my outside resolve held.
"Surprise? What are ya up to Swamp Rat?" My voice sounded affectionate even to me.
He stood up in one fluid motion and moved over to me, getting within a butterfly kiss of my face. I had the urge to pull back, but I controlled it. Had to let him have something. I couldn't always block him out, even though that was what my first instinct was. His eyes, that look. It scared me. Not afraid for my life, scared. Butterflies in my stomach scared. He cared for me so much...but the question was, was I strong enough to care for him back? "How has dat powah control been comin' along, chere?" I knew he deliberately avoided the subject, but I let it go for now.
I swallowed. It just wasn't right for a guy to make one feel so powerless, even though I had more power than most. I forced my voice to steady itself, even though I hadn't said a word. "Almost there." I pull away from him, or else I'd do something we'd both regret, even though he'd say he didn't until the day he died. Going back over to the counter where I set my milk and cookies down, I pick up the glass and take a healthy drink. I can feel even before I turn around that he's gone. I've failed him in some way and it hurts me. But I freeze up, he doesn't know how hard it is, to be afraid to love someone as much as I am afraid to love him.
***
Ya'll tell me how this is, and if I get the right kinda feedback, I may pursue this thing further. In between my busy life, of course. But ya'll don't really miss me. Anyway, reviews, reviews, reviews!
Notes: This is my third attempt to finish a story. Be patient with me.
Rating: Pg-13 ...just because.
Notes on the story: You asked for it, so it's here. And in regard to the question about my last story that I haven't finished...stories rather, I don't know what happened to them, I just lost interest. Let's hope it doesn't happen with this one.
***
Chapter 2
On the space ship Galaxia.
I whirled around, already in the fighting stance that I had been taught so long ago. My heart was thudding in my ears, and my seemingly impended danger wasn't what worried me. It was Remy. What had happened, and why in the hell didn't he answer me?
***
Many years ago, in the mansion.
I throw a pillow at Jean's face, and it hits her squarely in the jaw, my voice rings out in a musical laugh and I shake my head, the auburn and white tresses caressing the middle of my back. "He did not get ya that!"
The other girl's laugh erupts shortly after mine, and she holds the pale purple pillow to her chest, knees curling up around it. "He did! And it didn't even fit!"
Valentine's Day. Gotta love it. Jean was telling me her old stories of what Scott had gotten her. Apparently they had gotten into a huge fight and Jean had called him boring, so he went out and bought her edible underwear. Jean nearly passed out from laughing so hard. Good ol' Scotty blushed and rebounded with a handful of daisy's ...might as well stick to what he's good at.
The only reason I'm being all social and buddy, buddy with Jeannie is that I need some kind of idea of what to get Remy. What do you get a guy that has everything? We've only been "officially" dating for about a year now, so what's enough? Gawd, I hate this stupid holiday.
"What do ya think 'bout a necklace?"
Jean wrinkles her nose, of course she's comparing it to what Scott would like, so I instantly see possibilities for the decision. "I don't know. What kind?"
I curl up on my side of the couch, feeling my eyes go distant as I picture that gorgeous hunk 'a Cajun, tight fitting pants, a shirt open to expose the bronze expanse of his chest...whoah, this wasn't getting me anywhere. I blink a few times and shake my head, rolling my shoulders into a small shrug. "Ah don't know."
Jean wrinkles her pouty lips and stands, adjusting her tiny sleeping shorts and white tank top. She winks at me. "You'll figure something out. But knowing Remy...you'll have something to compete with."
That was my signal to go. Obviously I made the red haired beauty nervous. I was used to it. The only one who wasn't squeamish around me was Remy, and sometimes that wasn't always a good thing. I was getting control of my powers, the Professor said so, and I could feel it. They just were a little temperamental sometimes.
I hop up, no hard feelings, right? My hands fall to my sides. I still wear the elbow length gloves, though the control in my hands is almost impeccable...old habits die hard, eh? The plush, green
terrycloth robe that Remy got me for my birthday gets tied at the waist tightly. It falls to my ankles, but the sleeves are rolled up, so I'm not worried about any extra contact that might happen. Besides, from here it's to the kitchen for a snack, and then hopefully to bed. "Thanks Jeannie, yoah right, good night girl."
I don't wait for her to reply, she's probably brushing her hair out or something, I just walk to the door and open it, quietly exiting.
Cool, and empty, the hall looked perfect, like something out of a movie. It was so clean. I know Xavier hires maids to clean, but I never see them. Even all the pictures are straight. It's almost eerie. My socked feet pad silently past portraits of landscapes and sober looking people in frilly dresses. My lips part and a soft tune escapes them. I couldn't place it if you asked, but it seems oddly familiar all the same. Turning into the kitchen, I flip on the light and head straight for the fridge. Storm was suppose to made some cookies after supper. They'd be cold, but nothing a little microwave wouldn't solve. After retrieving the cookies, I get myself a glass of milk. Can't have cookies if you don't have milk. It's a rule. And not any of that 2% stuff, or low fat. Milk isn't milk unless it's whole.
Mmm...frothy glass, warm cookies. What else could a girl want? Perfect midnight snack.
Of course these things don't ever last long. I inhale deeply, cookies, kitchen, cigarette smoke, and spicy cologne. Two out of four ain't bad. My slight tensing up has no doubt noted him that I know of his presence. But I'm almost willing to bed that if he didn't want me to know he was there, I wouldn't.
A bare sound of feet hitting the floor before I hear that voice. I'm so used to tensing that I forget sometimes that we do go out, and I don't have to dread his presence anymore. "'ey chere."
I feel him before I see or hear him. Feel his fingertips caress the robe lightly, and feel the soft warmth of his breath caress my cheek. He knows my limits and his, because he's pulled back and lounged in a kitchen chair before I can say anything. I'm suddenly not hungry, but thirsty, my mouth has gone dry. He has the tendency to do that to a girl. "Heya there Remy. Haven't see ya all day, whatcha been up to?"
I lean against the table's edge and dip my head ever so slightly so that my hair falls over my shoulder and covers some of my face. I can practically feel his seductive red on black eyes penetrating through. Two can tease I guess. He doesn't move, and if I didn't know better, breathe. "Jus' makin' arrangements chere, ya know how dat is." His voice isn't above a hare's breath.
"Arrangements? Foah what...mahgt Ah ask?" That had my curiosity peaked. I lifted my head, and tucked my hair behind my ear gently, eyes landing on him.
His own red on black eyes seemed to glimmer just a bit, and a smile tugged at his lips. "Now if Remy told ya what it was, it wouldn't be a surprise, chere." He winked at me, and my knees went weak, but my outside resolve held.
"Surprise? What are ya up to Swamp Rat?" My voice sounded affectionate even to me.
He stood up in one fluid motion and moved over to me, getting within a butterfly kiss of my face. I had the urge to pull back, but I controlled it. Had to let him have something. I couldn't always block him out, even though that was what my first instinct was. His eyes, that look. It scared me. Not afraid for my life, scared. Butterflies in my stomach scared. He cared for me so much...but the question was, was I strong enough to care for him back? "How has dat powah control been comin' along, chere?" I knew he deliberately avoided the subject, but I let it go for now.
I swallowed. It just wasn't right for a guy to make one feel so powerless, even though I had more power than most. I forced my voice to steady itself, even though I hadn't said a word. "Almost there." I pull away from him, or else I'd do something we'd both regret, even though he'd say he didn't until the day he died. Going back over to the counter where I set my milk and cookies down, I pick up the glass and take a healthy drink. I can feel even before I turn around that he's gone. I've failed him in some way and it hurts me. But I freeze up, he doesn't know how hard it is, to be afraid to love someone as much as I am afraid to love him.
***
Ya'll tell me how this is, and if I get the right kinda feedback, I may pursue this thing further. In between my busy life, of course. But ya'll don't really miss me. Anyway, reviews, reviews, reviews!