Disclaimer: I believe that if I owned X-men things would be +completely+
different than they are. I don't own it so I must resort to writing
mediocre fanfics!
"Oh just the scent of you, it makes me hurt. So how can having you make me better?" ~Vanessa Carlton 'Pretty Baby'
The smell was intoxicating, a mixture of cool aftershave and smoke. Biting her bottom lip and closing her eyes, she drew the shirt up to her nose and took a deep breath. The very thought of how she came about the shirt was enough to keep her euphoric the day through. Her mind retraced the crazy Australian attempting to scale the mansion gate in one bound, his shirt snagging on a sharp post. Logan had spotted him and was fast on his tail, leaving him no choice but to slip out of the parcel of clothing and run as fast as his feet could possibly carry him.
Amara grinned, pleased with the fact that she had been able to grab the shirt from the fence with no one noticing. Not that she would ever admit to anyone that she was completely smitten for St John, an above all not to him, she was nearly content with having an item that had touched him. Sighing heavily, she stuffed the shirt underneath her pillow and rose from her bed, walking out the door and down the stairs. The color quickly drained from her face when her eyes met the very man whose shirt she had just been smelling. He grinned at her from beside a livid looking Scott, motioning for her to look at the rather large hole on the side of his pants that had obviously been grazed by some sort of laser.
"Eh... Luv! Just come back to get my shirt that you were so kind to hold on to for me."
All eyes turned towards Amara who felt as if she had just swallowed a brick. Furiously blushing, she tugged on a strand of hair, standing squarely in one position.
"Go on Bub', get your lousy blouse and then hit it."
St John practically galloped to Amara's side, turning back to Logan sniggering.
"Roight' mate... Get up there and hit it, my pleasure!"
Before Logan could 'reply', St John had already herded Amara up the stairs and into the hallway. She led him to her room, thoroughly embarrassed that she wouldn't have a chance to place the shirt somewhere less incriminating. What type of impression would one get from a shirt under one's pillow? Not a very wholesome one in the least.
"Okay, right, shirt ummm. Let me think about where I put it, I wouldn't be surprised if it happened to get thrown away. Seeing as it's just."
He stood in front of her, shirt in hand, smirking.
"Underneath your pillow for safe keeping? 'Mara love, takes more than a bunch of fancy talk to convince me."
She swallowed hard, knowing her cheeks were becoming flushed. Damn him. He stepped forward and opened up both of her palms, placing the shirt in her hands and closing her fists around it. Leaning forward in a hushed voice he whispered.
"Let's call this a token of my gratitude lovely." He stepped back beaming at the bemused look on her face. "I promise you'll understand what I mean vahry soon. While Ah'm here, tell me. Is it true that smell evokes the most powerful memories and feelings?"
All she could do was nod her head, completely dumfounded as he glided out the door leaving her with emotions running high. In a daze she flopped down onto her bed, unknowingly clutching the shirt in her hands. Looking down at it she traced her finger over the tiny rips in the black material, she smiled and knew exactly what he meant by 'token of gratitude'.
Fin.....
A/N: Alright! Another Amyro in one week! Review review review! I'm planning on extending this story in some way shape or form to flesh out the whole 'gratitude' thing. The amount of reviews I receive will determine how soon this 'extending' will take place! Hope y'all enjoyed!
"Oh just the scent of you, it makes me hurt. So how can having you make me better?" ~Vanessa Carlton 'Pretty Baby'
The smell was intoxicating, a mixture of cool aftershave and smoke. Biting her bottom lip and closing her eyes, she drew the shirt up to her nose and took a deep breath. The very thought of how she came about the shirt was enough to keep her euphoric the day through. Her mind retraced the crazy Australian attempting to scale the mansion gate in one bound, his shirt snagging on a sharp post. Logan had spotted him and was fast on his tail, leaving him no choice but to slip out of the parcel of clothing and run as fast as his feet could possibly carry him.
Amara grinned, pleased with the fact that she had been able to grab the shirt from the fence with no one noticing. Not that she would ever admit to anyone that she was completely smitten for St John, an above all not to him, she was nearly content with having an item that had touched him. Sighing heavily, she stuffed the shirt underneath her pillow and rose from her bed, walking out the door and down the stairs. The color quickly drained from her face when her eyes met the very man whose shirt she had just been smelling. He grinned at her from beside a livid looking Scott, motioning for her to look at the rather large hole on the side of his pants that had obviously been grazed by some sort of laser.
"Eh... Luv! Just come back to get my shirt that you were so kind to hold on to for me."
All eyes turned towards Amara who felt as if she had just swallowed a brick. Furiously blushing, she tugged on a strand of hair, standing squarely in one position.
"Go on Bub', get your lousy blouse and then hit it."
St John practically galloped to Amara's side, turning back to Logan sniggering.
"Roight' mate... Get up there and hit it, my pleasure!"
Before Logan could 'reply', St John had already herded Amara up the stairs and into the hallway. She led him to her room, thoroughly embarrassed that she wouldn't have a chance to place the shirt somewhere less incriminating. What type of impression would one get from a shirt under one's pillow? Not a very wholesome one in the least.
"Okay, right, shirt ummm. Let me think about where I put it, I wouldn't be surprised if it happened to get thrown away. Seeing as it's just."
He stood in front of her, shirt in hand, smirking.
"Underneath your pillow for safe keeping? 'Mara love, takes more than a bunch of fancy talk to convince me."
She swallowed hard, knowing her cheeks were becoming flushed. Damn him. He stepped forward and opened up both of her palms, placing the shirt in her hands and closing her fists around it. Leaning forward in a hushed voice he whispered.
"Let's call this a token of my gratitude lovely." He stepped back beaming at the bemused look on her face. "I promise you'll understand what I mean vahry soon. While Ah'm here, tell me. Is it true that smell evokes the most powerful memories and feelings?"
All she could do was nod her head, completely dumfounded as he glided out the door leaving her with emotions running high. In a daze she flopped down onto her bed, unknowingly clutching the shirt in her hands. Looking down at it she traced her finger over the tiny rips in the black material, she smiled and knew exactly what he meant by 'token of gratitude'.
Fin.....
A/N: Alright! Another Amyro in one week! Review review review! I'm planning on extending this story in some way shape or form to flesh out the whole 'gratitude' thing. The amount of reviews I receive will determine how soon this 'extending' will take place! Hope y'all enjoyed!