DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel Comics and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Posted by: Elspeth (AKA Elspethdixon).

Author's Notes: This is an X-Men Evolution AU. The show's producers finally saw the light and added Gambit to the series, but I have to confess to being a bit disappointed that they made him an adult. We don't get to see teenage Gambit in all his juvenile delinquent glory. This story is my attempt to correct that. Thank you to Draqonelle, fellow X-Ev fangirl, who helped me come up with ideas (like the brilliant Pietro meets the wall scene).

Ships: Hints of Rogue/Gambit, hits of Scott/Jean. Kurt/Amanda and Lance/Kitty also mentioned.

Part Two: One of Us.

Consider yourself at home.

Consider yourself one of the family.

We've taken to you so strong,

It's clear we're going to get along.

As far as Scott was concerned, this decision to try adding Remy LeBeau to the X-Men was not one of the Professor's better ideas. So, okay, yeah, he'd been wrong about Lance, but Lance hadn't been some street kid from nowhere who'd tried to steal from them. He firmly dismissed the nagging little voice that whispered that he himself might have ended up a street kid from nowhere, under different circumstances. He would not have been a strung-out-looking klepto. And he never would have tried to rob Wolverine, no matter how desperate he was. That in itself argued against the possession of basic survival skills. And now, he was supposed to take the Artful Dodger shopping.

Granted, the clothes he'd arrived in hadn't been good for anything but rags to wax the X-Jet with, and he couldn't keep on wearing borrowed stuff forever, but why did Scott have to be the one to drag him--and Kurt, and Rogue, and Kitty--to the Bayview Mall? He'd agreed to do it, he even managed not to complain about it too much—there was just too much to do around the mansion for four adults to do it all, which meant that he and Jean had to pitch in sometimes--but that didn't mean that he had to like it.

"Wow. Kurt and Taller Kurt." Rogue nodded at the two X-Men, well, X-man and probationary X-Man, walking toward Scott's car. With Kurt's image inducer on, the pair of them really did look like a pair of skinny, long-haired clones, dressed in over-large clothes. The difference was, Kurt's clothes were too big on purpose, whereas LeBeau's didn't fit because he'd borrowed them all from Ray and Scott. Scott didn't know what Ray was going to do with his stuff when he got it back, but Scott planned never to wear those pants again. And LeBeau could most definitely keep the underwear.

"Merde." LeBeau whistled at the sight of Isabella, raising an eyebrow in appreciation. "Dat is one nice car. She yours?"

"Yeah." Scott nodded toward the back seat. "Get in. And buckle up, everyone." The sooner they left, the sooner this whole charade would be over with.

Everyone piled into Isabella, probably smearing mud on her leather seats. Rogue slid into the passenger side seat before anyone else could get near it, yelling, "Shotgun." At times Scott wondered if Rouge might not have a crush on him. She always seemed to find some way to be near him, or watch him, or just hang around him. The thought made him feel slightly guilty, since even without her powers, she just wasn't the sort of girl he went for. Jean, now, Jean was just about perfect. Gorgeous, understanding (usually) and easy to talk to, without any of Rogue's defensive walls and attitude. Too bad she was still dating that troglodyte Matthews.

"Why do I have to be in the middle?" Kurt complained. Everyone else ignored him. They contented themselves with looking out the windows, making snide remarks about the passengers of other cars (in Rogue's case), or complaining about Scott's taste in music. He finally shut that line of conversation up by announcing that if Kurt didn't like R.E.M., he could buy his own car and listen to his own tapes on its tape player. LeBeau didn't do much talking. He was probably still worried that they would call the cops on him if he didn't keep a low profile. It was a valid worry, as Scott fully planned on advising the Professor to do just that if LeBeau turned out to be a problem.

The mall parking lot was one of those labyrinths of islands and dead end drives most malls seemed to be surrounded by. Scott strongly suspected that the designer had flunked out of civil engineering school, and why the Bayview Better Business Bureau had hired him remained a mystery. Even on Sunday afternoon, the place was crowded, and the five of them ended up hiking halfway across the parking lot after he'd finally found a spot.

Once inside, Scott led his charges to the Eddie Bower store. He was halfway to the back, looking at a rack of khakis, when he realized that they had not followed him inside.

^_~

"Dere's no way I'm wearin' clothes from dat place," Remy announced, watching Scott disappear into Outdoorsy Preppies central. Rogue couldn't help but agree.

"What do y'all say we ditch him and go to Hot Topic?"

"How about the food court?" Kurt suggested hopefully.

"We're here to shop, not eat." Kitty waved a hand toward Remy. "We need to get him an entire wardrobe. This is going to be fun!"

Rogue could see it now. Remy was going to end up attired entirely in pastels, with Hello Kitty accessories.

"How 'bout we go to Hot Topic like Roguey said." He grinned at her, obviously trying to flirt. "I ought to t'ank dem for sellin' her dat see-t'rough shirt, anyway."

Rogue just barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. Nobody was that obvious. She wasn't buying it. He'd acquired a new pair of sunglasses from someone at the mansion, and was now half-hidden behind them, so that, like Scott, it was impossible to tell where he was looking. Rogue would have bet money that it was at her breasts.

However, as long as he was agreeing with her, she might as well take advantage of it. The two of them hustled Kurt and a protesting Kitty through the arched doorway of Hot Topic, across the giant, glass-ceilinged central thoroughfare from Eddie Bower, and into a crowded cave of black walls and loud music.

Kitty sought sanctuary amidst the My Little Pony and Rainbow Bright shirts, trying to look invisible. She was probably afraid that some scary Goth or punk would start hitting on her. Rogue began inspecting the racks of collars and jewelry up by the counter, trying to pretend that the others weren't with her. Unfortunately, Remy's insistence on hearing her opinion of everything he tried on made that nearly impossible.

"You look like a skank in that thing," she announced, surveying the tight black top with fishnet sleeves. There was no way in hell she was going to tell him how hot he looked with the mesh clinging to his muscles. They weren't as big as Scott's muscles anyway. "One who charges by the hour."

"It's almost exactly what you're wearin', only black instead of green." Another smarmy grin. "Dey say imitation is de sincerest form of flattery."

"You look like Rogue's evil twin." Kurt seemed to pop out of nowhere—possibly literally out of nowhere—to appear at her elbow. "Are you going to get one of those collars too?"

"Why not?" Remy pulled a black spiked collar down from a hook above his head and tried it on, leaning one arm on Rogue's shoulder as he peered into the mirror.

"Don't touch me." She ducked away instantly, re-establishing a safe distance between them. "And if you're buying that, I'm throwing mine away."

"But, but den we won't match," Remy said in a tremulous voice. "And den we can't be sisters."

Kurt snorted with laughter.

"Traitor," Rogue muttered. That smarmy piece of jailbait thought he was funny, but he wasn't. And he wasn't sexy either, regardless of how hard he tried to be. Actually, he was sort of intimidating. People just didn't look at her like that, lips halfway curved as if they were caught between smirking and drooling, they didn't compliment her, whether it was sincere or simply sleazy, and they certainly never touched her.

Except that Remy apparently hadn't noticed this, because he was touching her now. His hip was pressed against hers, his arm, resting on the counter, brushed hers, and his head, bent to one side so that he could inspect his earrings in the mirror, was so close to hers that his hair brushed her cheek. Did the boy have no concept of personal space?

"Back off, Cajun." She ducked away again, this time adding a push at his shoulder into the bargain. "I told you not to touch me."

Remy almost seemed to flinch, backing off to a more reasonably distance and dropping his gaze from the mirror to the counter top. "You don't have to shove at me. I ain't got cooties."

Watching him close himself off behind a defensive wall, she suddenly felt guilty. It wasn't his fault that no one could touch her. "Yeah, well, I have. You touch my skin, you'll pass out. It's my power."

"And here I t'ought dat was being sexy as hell." He leaned forward again and picked up a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. "Mais, nothin' gonna happen to me if I don't touch your skin, no?" He released her hair and dropped his hand back to the counter, just in time to escape having it swatted away. "I t'ink I'm gonna invest in a pair of gloves."

Suddenly, it was all too much—the closeness, the lame compliments, the intense attention, they were all like poisoned bait in a mousetrap, promising to feed a hunger, but capable of delivering only pain. She wouldn't be able to respond even if the attentions had been wanted. Even if it were Scott, handsome and responsible and earnest, finally noticing her the way she'd daydreamed about for months, she wouldn't be able to do anything but push him away. Remy might be a criminal from nowhere with God only knew what ulterior motives, but he had succeeded in reminding her quite firmly of all of the things that she could never have. "Stop making fun of me." She turned her back to him, grabbing the pile of clothes he'd selected out of a surprised Kurt's arms and throwing them down on the counter before flagging down a salesperson. "Let's buy your junk and go. Scott's probably looking for us."

"Who's makin' fun of you?" Remy arched his eyebrows, face a parody of shock. The expression might have been more effective if said eyebrows hadn't been half-covered by his sunglasses. "I'm just tryin' to be friendly. If I make all y'all like me, den maybe I get to stay. An' I ain't getting' all of dat stuff." He gestured at the pile of clothes on the counter, then began pulling items out and handing them back to Kurt.

"Why do you guys keep handing everything to me?" Kurt complained, looking down at his new armful of shirts and accessories. "I don't work here." They both ignored him.

"Yeah, well, drooling over me like a fat boy with cake isn't gonna help," Rogue snapped at the Jailbait. "Ever tried subtlety?"

"I prefer de direct approach."

"That how you ended up in jail?"

"How'd you hear 'bout dat?" he demanded, switching from dubious charm to defensiveness as if someone had flipped a light switch in his head. Rogue felt a bit guilty. She shouldn't have just blurted that out, but she'd heard Ororo saying something to Hank about jail and police reports while they'd been discussing registering Remy at Bayville High, and it had most definitely stuck in her mind--it was hard for information like that not to.

"You were in jail?" Kurt's eyes went wide and he stared at Remy as if he'd just sprouted a tail of his own, with horns to match. The girl behind the counter started ringing items up faster, suddenly seeming very eager to get the three of them out of her store.

"Only for two months," Remy mumbled, suddenly not meeting anyone's eyes. "I made a stupid mistake."

"Real stupid, if it landed you in jail."

"Yeah. I should have figured dat de vault would have a secondary alarm system wired to it, set to go off if de door opened wit'out de right voiceprint. I never should have let Belle do de plannin'."

"What vault?" Kitty drifted over from the non-Goth corner of the store, interest obviously caught. "What's this about alarms systems and voiceprints? Sounds like Mission Impossible."

"Yeah, except the thief wasn't nearly as good looking Tom Cruise." Rogue eyed Remy speculatively as she spoke. Kitty was right; vaults and alarm systems sounded way out of a sticky-fingered street kid's league. However, he sure sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Wherever he had been before showing up in New York, it certainly hadn't been anyplace law abiding and normal--not that that was much of a surprise. Then again, he could have made the whole thing up on the spot to try and impress her. If so, it wasn't working.

"That will be fifty-two dollars and seventeen cents," the girl behind the counter announced, somewhat breathlessly. "Thank you for shopping at Hot Topic. Please come again." She sounded as if she sincerely hoped that they would never come again. She also forgot to give them one of those little stamped discount cards, but Rogue decided to take pity on her and leave without mentioning it.

Unfortunately, as they turned to go, Kurt muttering information at Kitty in an excited whisper--Rogue caught "jail" and "two months" and "really cool"--Kurt's elbow, or possibly tail, knocked against a little figurine on the counter, sending it straight to the floor.

"Oh no." Kurt was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry. I'll pay for it."

"Don't worry about it. Really." Obviously, anything was preferably to having hardened criminals hanging around the store. Rogue was pretty sure she saw the girl's shoulders sag in relief when the four of them finally ducked out onto the walkway. She also was pretty sure she saw the salesgirl counting all of the items on and around the counter as well, as if to make sure that nothing had been taken. Beautiful. Now, every time Rogue tried to go into Hot Topic, she would get the evil eye from salespeople who thought she hung out with shoplifters.

The four of them cruised the mall in search of Scott, hitting JC Pennys, Sears, and Hechts and picking up clothes along the way. There were plenty of bargains to be found, but no Cyclops. He wasn't in the Gap, the shoe store, the bookstore, or the imitation surf shop-type place Risti had dubbed "the Tiki Hutt" (it had been a long shot anyway, but he might have been looking in there for something to buy Alex). By the time they had been reduced to checking Eddie Bauer again, all of Remy's clothing budget had been spent, and his borrowed stuff had gradually been replaced with new. Skin-tight denim had appeared in place of Scott's khakis, a black Mardi Gras t-shirt had been substituted for Ray's button down, and expensive as Hell Timberland boots had replaced the ratty sneakers. Combined with the straight-out-of-film-noir trench coat Remy had insisted on getting, it was definitely an interesting look. A lot of the girls they passed on the walkways seemed to share this opinion, and Remy was anything but immune to the attention. A definite swagger had begun to creep into his step.

Scott was not in Eddie Bauer either. By this point, Rogue had begun to get a bit worried. Scott was their ride home. What if he'd gotten ticked off at their abandonment of him and left, leaving them stranded? It wasn't a very Scott-like thing to do, but everyone had a snapping point, and he had probably been pretty annoyed when he had looked up to find them all gone. Probably worried as well. He might even have thought that Sabertooth or someone had attacked or kidnapped them--unlikely, but not impossible, and Scott could be a bit paranoid sometimes.

"Maybe we should split up and look for him," Kitty suggested. "We'd cover more ground that way."

"No." Rogue shook her head. "Once one of us found him, we'd have to spend the next two hours looking for everyone else."

"Good point." Remy reached into the pocket of his new coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes--where the Hell had he gotten those?--tapping one out into his palm. He leaned against one of the columns lining the central thoroughfare and lit up, using the tip of his finger instead of a lighter. "Ah, très bon." He leaned his head back and sucked on his nasty cancerstick, letting the smoke trickle out of his nose and mouth. "Dieu. I love cigarettes more den other people's jewelry." Charming. Not only was he a criminal, he smoked, too.

"Where did you get that?" Kurt demanded. "You can't smoke it in here. We'll get in trouble."

"Hey, it de first cig I've had in t'ree days, 'kay? I'll put it out 'fore we catch up wit' Scott."

"Ee~ew." Kitty wrinkled her nose. "I'm so glad Lance doesn't smoke. It'd be like kissing an ashtray."

"You've kissed Lance?" Kurt swung his attention away from Remy, turning to face Kitty. "He didn't make you, did he?"

Maybe if Rogue closed her eyes and wished really hard, they would all go away and Scott would appear instead. Or maybe not.

"Oh come on, Kurt. What have you got to be jealous over? You're dating Amanda."

"Hey, y'all, why don't we go to the food court and sit down for a bit," Rogue suggested. Her stomach was beginning to seriously protest the fact that she hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast, and food would probably make Kurt and Kitty be quiet.

Scott was waiting for them at one of the tables near the front. He did not look happy.

^_~

Kurt was out of bed early the next morning, sliding quietly out of the room while Remy was still dead to the world in the other bed, nothing visible but a bit of reddish hair sticking out from under the covers. When you had as many teenagers living in one house as they did, it paid to be an early riser. First one up got first crack at a shower. And anyway, he was supposed to meet Amanda before school, so he needed some extra time to get ready.

Amanda. Just thinking her name made him want to smile. She knew that he was a mutant, had even seen what he really looked like, and she wanted to date him anyway. She didn't even mind the fur! There were times when he felt that it was almost too good to be true. Surely, she would get tired of hanging out with someone like him, would eventually decide to start going out with a normal guy instead. Some one tall and handsome, with a cool car and a letter jacket, instead of a tail and pointy ears.

If Kurt could do card tricks and rewire security systems like Remy, and had a hard-core tattoo, Amanda would probably think he was really cool. Unfortunately, it was rather difficult to get much in the way of body art when you were blue and fuzzy. He couldn't even get his ear pierced--the piercing technician or whatever they were called would feel his skin and know that something was up. So he had to settle for being sharp and well groomed. And borrowing Scott's after-shave, which wasn't exactly necessary for him, since he didn't shave, but Amanda would probably like the smell.

He took the precaution of not asking Scott about first, since the older mutant was still a bit ticked off about being abandoned in Eddie Bauer.

As he was coming back from the shower, arms full of towels to drop in the laundry basket and his tail wrapped around a bottle of shampoo, he passed Remy, obviously heading to the bathroom for his own shower. He was so startled that he nearly dropped the shampoo.

Remy was wearing a turtleneck that was either way too small or designed by some company that Kurt himself would never have gotten clothing from. It was black, made out of some spandexy material that God had never intended turtlenecks to be made from, and so tight that anyone looking for it could see his nipples. It was also sleeveless, the better to show off his arm muscles, which weren't as big as Scott's or Logan's, but, at least in that outfit, were a lot more visible. Just looking at him made Kurt feel exposed.

"Mornin', Kurt." Remy nodded at him. "Comment ça va?"

"Uh, fine. Gutten morgen. Interesting outfit." He pointed with his shampoo-laden tail at the painted-on turtleneck and jeans. "You better not let Logan see you before you leave, or he'll make you change. He's never done that to anyone except Jubilee up 'til now."

"T'anks for de tip. I won't. See you at breakfast, mon ami."

Kurt nodded, and reached inside himself to flip that little switch somewhere inside his head. There was a second of sulfurous darkness, and then he was back in his room. A few moments to drop shower stuff and gather up homework and one quick teleport later, and he was in the kitchen. As usual, he was the first one to arrive, which meant that he got to finish of the last of the Lucky Charms.

Kurt was on his third bowl of Lucky Charms when Remy finally made it down to the kitchen, straggling in behind the others. Kurt had observed several things about his new roommate over the past three days, and one of them was that he spent as much time on his hair in the morning as Kitty.

He made a beeline for the coffee, and proceeded to pour himself a mug, adding milk and sugar until it turned a pale beige. He leaned against the counter and sipped it slowly. That was another thing about Remy. He never stood up straight. Of course, Kurt didn't stand up straight all the time either. He hadn't yet figured out how to make slouching look cool, though, and Remy had obviously mastered that art long ago.

"So, what you 'tink, Roguey?" He asked, staring speculatively at the wristwatch in his hand. "Brown, blue, or green?"

"Like I care." Rogue didn't even bother to look up from her cereal bowl, attention focused on the cheerios floating in milk as if they were tealeaves spelling out her future. "It's too early to care about anything."

"What color were they before your mutation manifested?" Scott asked, voice slightly muffled. His entire upper body was buried in the refrigerator as he searched for grape jelly to spread on his toast. He wasn't going to find any. Kurt had used the last of it last week when he'd filled Berserker's shoes with jam. Served him right for that "smurf" crack.

"Red an' black." Remy shifted the watch to his other hand, peering at it more closely. "They been red an' black as long as I can remember. I t'ink I was born dis way."

"Dude," Evan commented, mouth full of toast. "Sucks to be you."

"Thank you, Evan, for that display of sensitivity."

"Brown would go good with your hair," Kitty offered. "Green would make you look like Rogue's brother, or something."

Rogue continued staring into her cereal, but glanced up long enough to toss out one word. "Brown."

"Brown it is." Remy poked a button on the side of the watch, then slapped it onto his wrist. His eyes blurred for a second, and then the red irises and black sclera were replaced by a normal brown and white. Suddenly, he looked like any one of a million teenagers--if they had been getting ready to go clubbing rather than to go to school. "Anybody have a mirror?"

Jean leaned down and rummaged through the bookbag by her feet, pulling out one of those little round make-up things and handing it over. Remy flipped it open and angled it until the tiny little mirror caught his reflection. Then he froze. There was an odd look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, finally speaking up. "Doesn't it work? Mine shorts out sometimes."

"Non, it works fine. Be lookin' sexy as hell, actually. It just… doesn't look like me."

"Oh." Kurt nodded sagely. "You'll get used to it. Try having your skin change color. It took a month before I stopped doing double-takes every time I looked in a mirror." Actually, he still hadn't gotten entirely used to the altered, human-looking him, though he was infinitely grateful for the inducer that made it possible. School would have been out of the question without it.

"I look normal."

"Not in those clothes."

"Non, I mean, I look human."

"You are human." Scott removed himself from the fridge, obviously having given up on the jelly. "Stop playing with that thing and come on. We're going to be late."

"Everyone except you is finished eating," Jean told him, sounding slightly smug.

Scott shut the fridge, not quite slamming the door, and scooped up his cold toast, shoving both pieces in his mouth at once. He picked up his glass of milk, tossed the entire thing back in one long swallow, and started for the door. "Can we go now?"

So they went. Kurt was the first one out the door. Amanda would be waiting for him by the basketball court.

^_~

Heads turned as Remy walked toward the school, ripples of conversation spreading out around him as students took notice of a new face. Except, he was pretty sure that they weren't looking at his face. Not in these clothes. It truly was nice to be appreciated, especially when, this time, there was no risk of appreciation turning to fear the moment someone got a good look at his eyes.

Poorly buried instincts rose from their shallow graves and insisted that he drop out of sight, drift into the shadows, slink instead of saunter, that the attention of so many people was dangerous. He ignored them. He wasn't at this place on business, his own or anyone else's. It was okay to be noticed, good even. There was no pinch to be carried out, no secret orders to follow, nothing to be compromised. The only objective was to be normal.

Well, not exactly normal, per say. Certainly not 'normal' in the sense of 'average.' Remy grinned cheerfully at a purple-haired girl who had come up to talk to Rogue and ran a hand through his hair, held out of his face by a black headband. It was nice not to have to wear it hanging in his eyes. The purple-haired girl sneered at him and dragged Rogue away. She didn't know what she was missing.

"You'll be in French with Jean first period," Scott was saying. "Just follow her and you'll find your classroom. It's written on your schedule too."

"T'anks." He switched the strap of his new book bag to his other shoulder-the textbooks inside must have weighed a good thirty pounds--and was turning to go inside when it happened.

A kid came streaking toward the school steps, running so fast that he was nearly a blur. He turned to look at Remy as he flashed by, and kept looking, head still turned, until he slammed into the brick wall with a loud thud. Right into the wall!

Jaw dropping in astonishment, Remy dashed over to the ill-fated runner, who now lay in a heap at the base of the wall. What felt like half the student body followed close on his heels, grouping in a loose circle around the scene.

Remy dropped to a crouch next to the kid, poking tentatively at his shoulder.

"You okay, homme? You ran into de wall."

The kid blinked up at him, looking dazed. His hair was as pale as Ororo's, bits of it sticking out like antennae. "You can see your nipples through that shirt," he mumbled.

"Uh, I t'ink he gonna be fine," Remy announced to the crowd, rising to his feet again and taking a careful step back from the still mostly-prone accident victim. His turtleneck, which had been purposefully chosen to look as sexy as possible, now suddenly felt revealing. Maybe he should have worn something else.

"Mr. Maximoff?" Principal Kelly appeared on the edge of the crowd, looking concerned. "What happened? Is he all right?"

A half dozen people at once hastened to tell Kelly all about 'Maximoff's' sudden collision with the wall.

"And he was like this, and the wall was like this, and it was like, bam!"

"And then he bounced. I saw him bounce. Did you see him bounce?"

"He ran into the wall?" Kelly looked stupefied. "Why did he run into the wall?" The only answer was a scattered chorus of snickers. "Ah, Mr. Dukes," he pointed to a big kid with a mohawk, "Please conduct Mr. Maximoff to the nurse's office. Um, Mr. Maximoff," he asked the white-haired kid, who was now being pulled to his feet by Dukes, "are you all right? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three. My head hurts. I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"Only of embarrassment," a skinny kid snickered. "You stared so hard at the new guy that you ran into the wall. I knew it." He bounced in place, practically hopping. "I knew you was gay!"

"Shut up, Todd," Maximoff muttered. "I'm going to hurt you later."

The big kid stared pulling him away. "C'mon, Pietro. We have to go make sure your brain isn't going to leak out your ears or something."

"I knew it. I knew he was gay!"

Principal Kelly turned to survey the crowd of students. "I assume you all have classes to go to?"

Nearly everybody scattered. Remy started to slowly inch away. "Not you, Mr. LeBeau. I will excuse you this time, as this is your first day, but in the future, please be aware that we have a dress code at this school." He gestured toward Dukes and Maximoff, who were slowly walking away with Todd bouncing after them ("I knew it! I was right and Tabitha was wrong!"). "And this is why. You see? He was distracted by your inappropriate attire. Distracted from his studies."

Scott made a choking sound, obviously trying to suppress laughter. The rest of the X-Men didn't bother. "Distracted," Evan gasped, near hysterics. "He was distracted all right."

"Yes, sir," Remy told Kelly. "I try to be less distractin' in de future, sir."

"See that you do, Mr. LeBeau. See that you do. I suggest you all report to your first period classes before the late bell rings."

Kelly strode away, leaving the rest of them to dash frantically to class. As Remy turned to go, a hand grabbed his arm.

"Hey, you the new X-Dork?"

"New what?" Remy eyed the owner of the hand. A boy about his own height, with dark hair and ripped jeans, he had been part of the crowd that had gathered around Maximoff. And he also apparently knew about Professor Xavier's X-Men team, even though it was supposed to be a secret. Unless X-Dorks was a reference to something else, which was possible. Not likely, but possible.

"You're one of those Xavier's Institute people, right? You came in with them." He smiled, with made him look a lot less like a petty thug. "Whoever you are, you just won me twenty-five bucks off of Tabitha. I'm Lance Alvers."

Remy decided to turn down the paranoia for once, and reached out to shake Lance's hand. "Remy LeBeau. Yeah, I'm wit' de Institute. Just joined. Dey pulled some strings to get me into school here." He tried a smile. "Sorry 'bout your friend. I hope he be all right."

"What, Pietro?" Lance shook his head slightly. "He'll be fine. I think his skull's made out of granite." His eyes shifted to something beyond Remy's shoulder, and narrowed. "Summers."

"Alvers," Scott returned, jaw set. His eyes were probably narrowed as well, but with Scott it was impossible to tell. Well, well. It looked as if Shades had issues with Lance. Remy revised his opinion of Lance Alvers upward a notch. If Scott didn't like him, he might be a fun guy to hang out with.

"Hi Lance." Kitty bounced forward, apparently so eager that she didn't notice that part of her arm phased through Remy. He shivered, and rubbed his chest, certain that he could feel a trail of cold where it had been.

"Want to walk me to class?"

"Sure, Kitty." Lance scooped up Kitty's book bag and slung it over his own shoulder, and the two of them walked off, heads together. "Catch you later, LeBeau."

"If he hurts Kitty," Scott was muttering under his breath, "I will personally fry him until he turns into a crispy critter."

Jean sighed, in that special way that girls had, which could somehow indicate complete disgust for all men without a single word being spoken. "Mme. Santier's classroom is this way," she said to Remy, and then strode off, leaving him to follow.

Remy was followed through his first three periods by whispers about the wall incident, most of them accompanied by either snickers (from the guys) or appreciative whistles (from the girls). At first, it was fun, but eventually it began to get a little annoying. Still, it was infinitely preferable to the sorts of whispers that had circulated about him at St. Sebastian's, and it couldn't hurt to start the school year with a bang. He really ought to thank Maximoff for providing the bang, if in a rather over-literal manner.

Still, when he snuck outside and into the space under the bleacher for a cigarette between third and fourth period, he wasn't exactly thrilled to find Maximoff there, his white hair gleaming in the shadows.

"So are you or aren't you?" a blonde girl was demanding as Remy approached slowly, debating whether lack of nicotine would really be worse than the embarrassment of facing wall-boy. "Come on, Pietro, give me a straight answer. I've got twenty-five bucks riding on this."

"If I say yes, you'll make fun of me, if I say no, you'll hit on me. You're not getting an answer out of me. It's none of your business anyway."

"Um, hey," Remy managed, as he stepped into the cigarette-butt and candy bar wrapper-littered shade. The dim light felt good, after the bright sunlight and florescent light of the past few hours. The Professor's nifty little image inducer watch might make his eyes look normal, but it hadn't totally removed the need for sunglasses. Beneath the hologram, his eyes were still abnormally sensitive to light. "Sorry 'bout dis mornin'. You okay?"

Maximoff broke of his conversation with the girl mid-sentence and spun around, blushing slightly when he saw Remy. "Yeah, fine. Great. Never been better. I was just a bit distracted this morning, you know. Not enough sleep, late for school, wasn't looking where I was going." He spoke extremely quickly, words coming out in a frantic rush that implied that he was either babbling out of nervousness, or sincerely in need of some Ritalin.

"So," the blonde girl said, addressing Remy, "you're Nipple Boy."

Remy was pretty sure that, for an instant, he and Maximoff were united by an intense desire to sink down through the dirt like Kitty phasing through a wall, and never come out again. "No, I'm Remy Lebeau."

"Tabitha Smith, Brotherhood of Mutants. You can call me Boom-Boom." She grinned, posing with one hand on her hip. She had on very tight jeans, showing off a very nice pair of legs, and a shirt that revealed a thin line of midriff when she moved. It also had a neckline that a designer would definitely have described as 'plunging.' Maybe "Boom-Boom" was some sort of play on "Blonde Bombshell." "You really with the X-Men?"

"Tabitha," Maximoff hissed, "we're at school."

"Oui, I just--I mean, how do you know 'bout de X-Men?"

"'Cause I used to be one of them, before I get fed up with all of the judgmental bullshit and stupid rules." She searched through her pockets for something, then turned to Maximoff. "Borrow a cigarette?"

He reached into one of his pockets and produced a pair of slightly crumpled cigarettes. "I shouldn't give you handouts after the way you've been badgering me, but I'm feeling generous." He handed one cigarette to Tabitha and stuck the other in his mouth. "Got your lighter on you?"

"Sorry. I forgot everything this morning, even my homework. You got a lighter, Remy?"

Remy shook his head. "Don't carry one. Don't need one." He considered things for a moment. The two of them obviously knew about mutants--Maximoff probably was one, if his running speed that morning was anything to go by, and Tabitha as well, if her claim of being a former X-Man was true--so presumably it would be safe to show off a little. "Hold real still, Maximoff." He took a step toward the shorter boy and leaned forward until their faces were only a few inches apart, then reached up and tapped his finger against the end of Maximoff's cigarette, charging just the tip of it.

Maximoff watched his approach with wide eyes, then started back in surprise as the end of his cigarette flared pink for a second and ignited with a pop. "Ah! What did you--"

"Just gave the molecules a little jump-start." He grinned at the startled look on the other boy's face. "Don't worry, I don't blow anyt'ing up by accident. Anymore."

"Kicking." Tabitha held out her own cigarette. "Light me up too."

Remy took the cigarette from her, palming his own out at the same time, and slid both of them between his lips, lighting each with a touch of his finger. He drew a deep breath to get them going, pulling the smoke into his lungs. He felt more relaxed instantly, though it was probably psychosomatic. Nicotine didn't hit the bloodstream that quickly.

"An' one for de belle femme." He reached out to hand Tabitha's cigarette back to her, and was slightly startled when, instead of reaching for it, she leaned forward and parted her lips, obviously waiting for him to slid it straight into her mouth. He hesitated for a moment, then complied, being careful not to actually touch her lips. He didn't know her quite that well yet.

She took a deep drag on the cigarette, then held it between two fingers, letting the smoke trickle out through her lips. "You blow stuff up too, huh? Looks like a match made in heaven. They don't call me Boom-Boom for nothing." She grinned again, wiggling her fingers. "You want it blown down, burned out, or raining around your head in pieces, I'm your girl. We ought to get together sometime. I bet it would be," dramatic pause, "explosive. Oh, I forgot to ask; what do you go by? He's Quicksilver." She jerked her thumb at Maximoff, who was ignoring them with a self-possession unusual in someone so young, obviously trying to pretend that he and his cigarette were alone under the bleachers.

"I don't have a magic name yet. I used to go by Gambit, dough."

"Gambit," she repeated. "That's a chess move, right?"

"Mais oui, means I'm always t'inkin' a couple of moves ahead. Cards are more my game den chess, dough."

"Hurry up and finish your cigarettes, slowpokes," Maximoff interrupted. "The bell's going to ring in two minutes and eight seconds."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Tabitha waved a hand airily. It was a gesture that reminded Remy of Belle. She used to wave her hand just that way, dismissing parents, police, and Guild rules with the same cavalier disregard for anything that got in the way of having fun. Maybe it was a blonde thing. "Anyway, like I said before, are you sure you're with the X-Dorks? You look like a guy who knows how to have a good time, and most of them wouldn't know a good time if it bit them in the ass. Except for Amara and Rogue. They're all right."

"Mm-hmm." The words "Rogue" and "good time" in the same sentence called up all sorts of interesting mental images. All that pale skin, uncovered and free from gloves and tights and scarves.… Too bad it was impossible. Then again, his papa had always said that the 'impossible' jobs were the most fun. The harder the pinch, the more satisfying it was to pull it off.

"Yo, Earth to Gambit. Remy. Whatever. You listening to me?"

"Yeah," he assured her. What had she been talking about? Oh yes. "De X-Men are borin'."

"More than boring, they're complete killjoys." Tabitha made a face. "Just try having a bit of fun and they'll come down on you like a ton of bricks. Real sticklers for rules, too. I mean, they've got a great house--beats the heck out of the junk heap me and the guys are stuck with--but living there is like being in an episode of the Brady Bunch. Back me up here, Pietro."

"They're a bunch of lame goody-two shoes. I'm surprised they let you out of the house dressed like that." He eyed Remy's clothing again, one silver eyebrow raised. Remy leaned one arm against a support pole, posing just a little bit and pushing those couple of months in Angola firmly to the back of his mind. When you're hot, you're hot, and you might as well accept the admiration as your due, regardless of the source.

"Dey aren't dat bad," he protested, feeling that he ought to make some attempt to defend his new friends? teammates? They really hadn't seemed as awful as Tabitha and Maximoff were making them sound, though he had gotten a lot of disapproving looks from Scott and Ororo.

"Just wait and see." Tabitha told him. "And whatever you do, don't get caught doing anything illegal. The Professor hates that. Steal something, and your life at that place is over. They'll never trust you again." She winked. "So if you decide to sneak out and meet me some night, don't get caught. Maybe I can convince Pietro to start something if you're in on the action."

"Vraiment?" Most of her last two sentences were lost on Remy. His mind had seized on the phrase "never trust you again." An image of the Professor's face appeared behind his eyes, gazing at him sternly while a calm voice inquired why he had tried to lift Logan's wallet. They knew about jail, but…. They didn't know everything about jail. They didn't know about the cop he'd knocked out in the first escape attempt, or what he'd done to that guy who had tried to…. He hadn't meant to do it, hadn't even known until then that he could charge things with his entire body, but the others might not buy that excuse. And they certainly didn't know about Essex, and what Remy had been doing for him over the past two years, things that made stealing look like a minor infraction. Made it look going five miles over the speed limit looked when compared with drive by shootings.

"Huh?" Tabitha blinked. "Speak English. I never made it past Spanish II."

"Dey really dat set against, ah, people wit' a colorful past?"

She snorted. It was a surprisingly tomboyish gesture for some wearing a shirt that interesting. "You obviously haven't had to sit through any of Professor Xavier's 'I'm very disappointed in you' lectures yet."

"Thirty seconds to the bell," Maximoff announced, pinching out his cigarette and picking up his book bag. "I'd see you slowpokes in detention, except I'm not going to be there. If life with the X-Dorks ever gets old," he added, "remember that the Brotherhood can always use new members." Then he was a silver and blue blur, streaking toward the nearest door.

Tabitha and Remy took off after him, sprinting for all they were worth. Remy put on an extra burst of speed and left Tabitha behind him, hitting the doors and making it halfway down the hallway before they started to swing shut. He managed to slide through the door of the Trigonometry classroom and into his seat a split second before the bell went off. Kitty waved at him from across the aisle as he sagged down in his seat in relief, and it was then that Tabitha's comment about "action" with her and Maximoff finally registered. She couldn't possibly have been suggesting some sort of menage à trois, could she? It had to have been a joke. Yeah, definitely a joke. He didn't think her warning had been one, though, or Maximoff's hurried but sincere-sounding offer to join the "Brotherhood." He would have to keep that in mind. A good thief always had a back-up plan in case the original plan went sour. Not having one was a good way to end up in jail, as he had learned to his cost.

^_~