"Maybe if I grew my hair out, I could be a rock star."
"Do you have a fever, Scott?"
"Of course not, Ororo." Scott smiled as his voice, toned with a mixture of sarcasm and wistfulness, made Ororo laugh in response.
"But," said Ororo, a wry questioning look escaping, "what are you going to do about the glasses? It is not as if you can take them off for a photo shoot."
Scott pursed his lips, deep in thought. "Bono wears his all the time. I can get away with it." Strumming another chord, he paused again as Storm fought to keep herself from laughing out loud. "Of course, that would make Jean a groupie. I don't know if she'd overly care for that turn of things." He strummed another chord, grinning. "And you of course."
"And me what," she said indignantly.
"You'd be a groupie, too."
"Now I know that you have a fever, Scott. You are delusional."
Propping his foot up onto the familiar cedar chest, Scott began a song that Ororo didn't recognize. However, that didn't bother her, as she was content to lean back against the wood paneling and let the music flow.
Pausing, Scott drew his eyebrows together. "Jean's coming." Right as Jean turned the corner to enter the room, Scott threw his arms around his co-leader, hugging her, and pretended to be shocked at Jean's entrance. "Jean! Oh! You caught us in the middle of our torrid affair."
Jean cocked a single eyebrow before strolling over to the couch. "Hugging? Gee, 'Ro, if that's torrid, you can keep him."
Scott released Ororo as he turned to Jean. "What's up?"
"Practice, dear. Gotta get ready for the exhibition. Let's go."
"All right, all right. See ya later, Ororo."
Bobby then entered the room, flopping down to watch a movie. "Hey, Storm."
"Hello, Robert." She stood to go into the kitchen for something to drink, when Bobby's confused voice stopped her.
"Hey, Storm? You were the one that last recorded something, right?"
"Yes," said Ororo, a bit confused. "Why?"
Pressing a button on the sleek remote, Bobby un-muted the television. Soft sounds caused Ororo to snap her head around and walk over to the couch. She gasped as the screen showed two people being rather…intimate.
As in screaming in pleasure intimate.
With handcuffs.
"Then why was this the channel the VCR was set to, Storm?" questioned Bobby, clearly amused.
"That is not right! Someone must have changed the setting!" sputtered Ororo, grasping for a solution.
"Well, let's see." Rewinding the tape a bit, Bobby then pressed, "play" to see what Ororo had recorded. Ororo prayed for her show about Africa to be on the tape. But Africa certainly wasn't the subject of the two people on the screen.
"Gee, 'Ro, you learn something new everyday. Who ever knew you watched this stuff?"
"I do not!" she fired, mortified. "I specifically set the channel to Discovery!"
Bobby crinkled his eyes at the screen. "'Ro, you set the television to Discovery. You have to set the VCR."
"That is not what I did?"
"Nope."
"Oh." Ororo sat down, eyes staring at the far wall. A hint of a blush began showing on her cheeks as she sat in shock.
Bobby smiled. "Don't worry. Your show's on repeat tonight. I'll program the VCR to record it. Over this stuff," he indicated at the screen."
"Thank you, Robert."
"But, I'll have to do it later. Just remembered – it's recycling day."
Ororo smiled and waved him off just as Logan entered the room, his ever-present flannel hanging off him. "Hey, 'Ro. What are ya doing for the freak parade we've gotta perform in?"
Ororo gave an enigmatic smile, and intoned, "You'll see."
"Nature-girl music and some rain. Got it."
"And what, perhaps, are you going to do?"
Showing off his canines, Logan grinned. "Figured I'd hack at something 'till it fell."
Sighing, Ororo rose from the chest, and sat down next to Logan, her gray sweatshirt winding its way around her body. "The point is to learn something new, or be creative, Logan. Slashing at an enemy is hardly new for you."
"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" He released his claws, the metal points rapidly extracting from within his hands. "Not like I can be creative with these for powers."
"Then learn something new."
Logan snorted. "What am I supposed to do? Show off I learned how to sew a dress?"
"Well, then show off your precision cutting abilities," said Ororo as she leaned back against the couch.
A smirk slid onto Logan's face. "OK, I'll just precisely cut off your top. That work? I'll enjoy it at least."
"Logan!"
"Fine, fine," he relented before smirking again. "Yours and Jean's tops. Double your pleasure, double your fun."
"Double your pain, double your agony," Ororo dryly said.
"Ya know, for a peace-loving gal, you sure do threaten me a lot. What's that saying Hank loves? Oh, right. 'Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.'"
"You wish," Ororo said under her breath.
"Well, while I'm wishing," Logan began, "I'll wish for a sandwich. Come on, let's get lunch."
Shrugging her shoulders in acquiescence, Ororo stood and followed Logan into the kitchen. "By the way, Logan?"
The muffled echo alerted Ororo that Logan's head was already buried in the refrigerator. "Yeah, darlin'?"
"Your distributor wire is in the garage, third drawer on the left."
"So that's what you did to my car!" said Logan, shocked and impressed. "I couldn't see what in the world you had done – thought you had fried it with a bolt or somethin'."
"Now, Logan," she chided, "do you really find me for such a Neanderthal? There are much better methods than simply frying something." Reaching into the cupboard, she pulled down two plain white ceramic plates. "And besides, that would make it too obvious. I required a head start home."
Logan laughed as he pulled out the trappings for a sandwich. "And here I thought that Gumbo was the sneak in the house."
"We were a pair, Logan," she said, eyes dancing.
"Between the two of ya, I'm surprised that the Swamp down there has anything left."
"Hey, Stormy," Gambit called from the doorway. "Time to go."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Go? Where you takin' her, Cajun?"
Gambit smirked. "To my bedroom."
Logan frowned. "What about Mississippi?"
"She's there, too. Trios are fun."
Ororo rolled her eyes, and placed her hand on Logan's shoulder. "Hardly. We are going to the Danger Room to practice for the exhibition."
"I thought it was an individual deal," said Logan.
"It is. However, I have asked for Remy to assist me in my endeavor."
"All right, darlin'. Whatever you say."
AN2: Still, no hints as to what Tania should name herself? Fine. One more round o' begging. You don't want me to have to come up with names. She'll name herself things like Wobbuffett if it's left up to me.
Stormfreak: Right, right. Watch yourself, or I'll make this a romance to spite you. :P
Scififreak: No, no romance. I can't write mush.
Minarya: Thanks. That easy-going banter is kinda a trademark of them, eh?
Ororis Storm: Thanks!
Wahinetoa: Nope, Davis can't catch a break. That's the whole point. ;) And writing Ro and Remy together is fun…they just bounce off e/o so well.
Rhapsody: Nope…I drove a Tempo. Well, drove is a subjective word. More like "sat on hood of Tempo," "waited for AAA with Tempo," and "took Tempo to shop." Ford = Fix or Repair Daily. ;)
Sioned136: Hank? Enh, I'm not too skilled at writing him. Can't pin him well. But we will poke into the student/teacher relationship between Xavier and Storm.
And…Mr. No Name…I'm sorry. You drive a Tempo? You have my utmost sympathy.