Alpha Male
Wherein Jeanne-Marie proves that she's a force to be reckoned with
Telltale Quote: The only decent boy in this house is Jamie Madrox. –Jeanne-Marie Beaubier
From the Diary of Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, August 25
Dear Diary,
Finally got that soccer ball, when Jean-Paul came out of his sulk recently. He's been so much nicer since he and Pietro are best friends again. I'm glad I could help, even if I worry about the two of them spending so much time together. I know my brother has a crush on Pietro, and I don't much like the idea of them together. Jean-Paul is sensitive, even if he doesn't want people to know. Pietro is a jerk. And I can't help but wish he could just find a nice girl. He would be so much happier if he could just love Rogue, I think. It would be ok, if they were just friends, him and Pietro. And he says they are. But I see the way he looks at him. Even, lately, the way Pietro looks back, when he thinks my brother isn't watching. And I fear it will soon be something more than just a friendship. And I do not like it.
But I suppose it isn't really my business. Roberto is, and he's gotten the new ball I had Jean-Paul pick up for him at the store. He is very upset that there has been a ban on mutants playing sports at school, since he was hoping to start on the Varsity soccer team this year. Now he won't be allowed to play at all. He suggested to the Professor that he could simply show them what happened, when he uses his powers, and maybe they would recognize that he had to turn them on and off. But the Professor says that the nature of his powers, his super-strength, would work against him—none of the kids would want to play with a boy who could kick them hard enough to knock them into next week.
So he's been pouty. But I took the ball to him outside, and asked him to show me how to play. After an hour, he was running and leaping and playing. His feet are so fast, they are hard for the others to watch! He is so beautiful, when he is playing. Those are the times when I love him, no matter how much we argue over stupid things. My brother says that Roberto is shallow. But I say that my brother doesn't know him like I do. He's never seem him look beautiful, look free. How could Jean-Paul understand what it is I need from Roberto, when he's never seen him like that?
Jeanne-Marie watched her boyfriend expertly dribble the ball up and down the "field" they'd created. Two trees at one end served as the goal, and at the other they had an actual legal goal, net and all. She kept track of his feet carefully as they danced around each other, and around the ball, jumping in front of it, then behind again, knocking it gently to the side as if he were being attacked from head on, and then easily moving around the imaginary defender.
He had a look of extreme concentration on his face. Lips pressed thin, hair falling all around his face. But his eyes, his big, brown eyes, were smiling. Shining. She could see it from here, halfway across the field.
He was happy. He was free. And oh, he was beautiful.
The fact that he was stripped to the waist helped. Sun-gold skin, covered in a thin layer of pure summer sweat, dark hair curling with the wetness in it, and that intense expression… an angel. A perfect, golden angel. Just like in the stained-glass windows.
She hadn't liked anything about Madame DuPont's, except for those windows. So beautiful.
"Ah, our Brazilian cover-boy showing off again," she heard behind her.
Ray was beside her in a moment, and Bobby and Sam ran off to join Berto on the field instantly. Lately she, along with the three boys, had been playing around on the field a lot. Everyone was anxious for school to get started again, so learning how to be a better soccer player (despite the fact that none of them would ever get to use their new skills, apparently) was providing some relief from the impatience and boredom of anticipation.
"He's not showing off," she laughed at her friend, as he lowered himself onto the grass beside her. "It's what he does. I was playing with him, but I got tired. And it makes him happy, to run free like this."
Ray laughed back, "I guess so. Kinda obvious though, that he likes being watched, don't you think?"
"He's my boyfriend," she shrugged, grinning, "he's supposed to want me to look at him, non?"
"Yeah, you, Amara, Kitty, Rogue—,"
She smacked him playfully on the arm and laughed again, "You sound so jealous, Ray!"
"Hey!" He protested, rubbing at his arm. "Just being honest! Look at him running around out there with his shirt off! Look at me, I'm Brazilian!"
She rolled her eyes. "Look at me, I'm Canadian!"
"Canadian's are hardly known for being a beautiful people, JM," he snickered, "it's not exactly the same."
She raised an eyebrow at him, playfully.
"Er…," he suddenly fumbled, scratching at the back of his head and looking away uncomfortably, "Not that you aren't beautiful and all… because you are…,"
She smacked him again, "Alright, enough. I'm only teasing."
He smiled, lopsidedly. "Yeah. I know."
"Anyhow, you could go show off too, if you need to be watched. I'd be happy to watch all four of you run around without your shirts. Just don't be upset if I go and get Kitty—she'd probably like it too."
His smile got even bigger.
"And Jean-Paul."
He laughed aloud. "Turns out he's not the only one in the family with the sick sense of humor, huh?"
Silently, feeling rather proud of herself for the joke, she nodded at Ray and turned her attention back to the three boys on the field, who were passing the ball in a triangle formation, running down the field, Roberto shouting at them and laughing by turns. Sam was actually turning out to be quite good… but Bobby was pretty hopeless.
"What do you see in him, anyhow?"
She looked back over at Ray, who was watching the other boys play now. He didn't look angry, or upset… just like he was asking a friendly question. And, since she considered him a friend, she answered. "He has a very… bright spirit. And a big heart. Look at him when he plays. Watch him run. Doesn't he look happy?"
Ray watched in silence for a moment, then nodded, slowly. "Yeah, he does. You like that, huh?"
She shrugged. "I like him when he smiles. I like him when he's free. That's when I like people best, you know. When they're doing what they love. They're beautiful then."
He smiled, slowly, still watching the boys. "You talk like a poet, JM."
She felt herself blushing. She honestly could not remember hearing a compliment, never in her whole life, that made her feel so… good. She drew her legs up, and put her chin on her knees, trying to let her hair fall over her face to hide it. Suddenly feeling shy. "Merci."
He looked over at her now, quickly, but she kept looking straight ahead, watching Roberto.
"I'm sorry… did I say something wrong?" He sounded mildly panicked. Like he used to sound all the time, in fact, when they'd first started talking, during her first weeks at the Institute. Since, he'd relaxed and come to treat her just as he treated everyone else there, however, and they'd become good friends.
"No," she said, quickly, not wishing to revert to their former "uncomfortable" phase. "No, it was sweet. I wish… I wish I were a poet. Or an artist. Or someone who could… tell people things, sometimes." It was her favorite wish, lately, in fact. She loved writing in her journal, finding the right words, capturing small moments from her day. And she loved making sketches of the people and things in her life, of small, seemingly meaningless actions, occurrences. So many things struck her as beautiful, or strange, or worthy of note somehow, throughout her day. And lately, she'd wished more and more that she could show them to someone. Talk to someone about them.
But she was afraid. They would laugh at her, for being fascinated with the flash of Bobby's eyes when he laughed. With the way her brother stood, looking at the ground, thinking, when he thought no one was looking. With Amara's lava form and how it flowed so wonderfully around her. With the tree outside her window and it's knotted brown branches, twisting impossibly in and out of each other. With a thousand things that had no rhyme or reason.
It was childish. And they wouldn't understand. But if she were truly a poet, truly an artist… she could show them, perhaps. Make them see what was so beautiful about them all.
He put an arm around her, carefully, and squeezed her once. "You're on your way. You should write that shit down."
"I do," she said, quietly, almost afraid to admit it.
"Really?" he seemed surprised, and looked over at her.
She looked back, and forced herself to relax. She could feel herself retreating, getting scared. It happened sometimes, when she felt a threat.
But there was no threat here. Just Ray, just talking. "Sometimes. Jean-Paul, he bought me a journal. The Professor said I should write things down, so I started."
"Wow…," he raised his eyebrows, handsome face elongating into an expression somewhere between appreciation and surprise. "That's pretty cool. I just started playing guitar, you know. We should write some songs together, someday."
She laughed at him, "Maybe we could."
She felt his hand, on the other side of her, pull her hair out of her face and gently put it behind her ear. And when she looked up at him, smiling at the sweetness of the gesture, so unexpected from someone so boyish and reckless as Ray, he quickly looked away. Back at the field.
Where a suddenly very unhappy Roberto was staring at them.
"Ah, shit," Berserker sighed, dragging his hand through his flame-orange tipped hair with something Jeanne-Marie could only assume was vast irritation. "Guess I'd better let go of you, huh?"
"No," she said quietly. And suddenly, very unhappy. "No, you don't have to. You are my friend."
And she was not going to have this argument again. Why it was ok for Berto to cat-call at Kitty or come up behind Amara and tickle her, but it was not ok for her to have a friendly conversation with Ray, was totally beyond her. And she wasn't about to put up with it.
"Dude is pissed," he shrugged, removing his arm, but not moving any further from her.
Roberto starting coming their direction, however. And he wasn't that far away to begin with.
Bobby and Sam suddenly noticed what was happening, and immediately started to follow after him, shooting each other worried looks.
Ray and Berto, historically, did not like each other. They were both far too proud, outgoing, and… well, Alpha Male-ish to be in the same room for long without something bad happening. They both needed to be in charge, or the center of attention, and all too often, their timing collided with disastrous results. Jeanne-Marie had realized long ago that if she wasn't careful, her friendship with Ray could cause a huge fight between her and her boyfriend, but had continued it nevertheless. She did adore Roberto, of course, but that was no reason to change her life, or her taste in company. He was her boyfriend, not her keeper.
At the moment, however, she wasn't sure she wanted him to be anything at all.
The look on his face was positively murderous. And she knew that this had a good chance of ending very badly.
Or it would've, if she hadn't been there. She wasn't about to let this blow up.
"What's happening, Sunny old pal?" Ray smiled at him brightly.
Roberto scowled, heavily. "Fuck off, Crisp. Why don't you go back to the house and flirt with someone else's girlfriend?"
Jeanne-Marie stood up now, as Bobby and Sam came up behind her, treading warily. She had originally planned to wait for awhile, see if they could diffuse the situation on her own, like grown-ups. But she was not about to be talked about like she wasn't even there. "That's enough. First of all, Roberto DaCosta, I will speak to whomever I wish to speak to. And secondly, he was not flirting."
Berto, black, glaring eyes still focused on the seated Ray, didn't even look at her. "Yeah right, I think I know what it looks like, JM."
She grabbed his arm now, and forced him to look at her, as a surge of… something went through her entire body. Like light, really. It just flushed through her entire system, opened her up… and took charge. And now, she was about to do the same. How dare he try and exclude her from this! And how dare he start this nonsense again, in the first place! "Then you must blame me too, non, cher Rober'?"
He stared, mouth slightly open, eyes burning like two little hot coals. She could feel the other boys watching her now, waiting for something…
"Jeanne-Marie…," Berto finally found his voice as she let him go, "forget it. It wasn't you. I saw him put his arm around you. And he was playing with your hair, for Christ's sake!"
Aurora narrowed her eyes at him, feeling her insides start to shake. How dare he? A friendly gesture, when she was feeling shy, afraid. A beautiful conversation between friends. And he had to make it into something cheap. "He was talking to me about something important, something important to me. He was only trying to make me feel better. Calm yourself."
Ray stood up now, hands out in front of him in surrender, but a wicked smile suddenly appeared on his face. "Look, dude, didn't mean to be threatening or anything. Whatever, just chill out."
Roberto's head snapped around at the sound of his "adversary's" voice, and he suddenly began to power up, squeezing his hands into fists and darkening in color, all over. "I'll show you threatening, Shock-boy."
Aurora watched for just a moment, fascinated by the way his entire body seemed to fall into shadow, quickly, but by degrees, like a sunset in fast forward, and then burst into black, orange-tipped flame.
But as pretty as his mutant power was, now was not the time for him to be using it. What a complete idiot, to start this now.
Ray, however, did not seem to agree, and he set his jaw as blue lighting arced from one of his hands to the other, making those strange zapping noises.
"You're being idiots," she informed them. "And if you don't stop it now, I will never speak to either of you again."
Bobby shifted behind her, and then stepped up next to her. "And if you still need to cool off, I'll ice you both down."
Sam, remaining silent, stepped up to her other side.
Roberto and Ray finally stopped glowering at each other, and looked at the three of them, standing there side by side.
"You think I'm joking? Try me," she said, lightly. Almost conversationally, really. "And if you want to fight someone," she turned on that thing inside of her, that light she knew she had. Felt the glow starting all around her. Not nearly as bright as it could be with Jean-Paul near, just a sort of pale aura round her, but a light that was all her own, and impressive, she knew. "try me for that as well. Bobby has seen me in the Danger Room. What do you think, Bobby? Can I take them both?"
Beside her, through the haze of her own light, she saw the brown-haired boy nod, "Definitely. One handed. She's tough, guys. I've seen her in action."
Roberto immediately powered down, after this declaration, but continued to stare at her. Ray let his lighting die, but held his hands out, also gawking. As if he'd forgotten he was holding them up at all.
"Jeanne-Marie, I—," Berto began, suddenly flushing slightly pink under the olive tones of his cheeks.
But she wasn't going to listen. She let go of her control over her powers, letting her body fall back into its comparatively restful state, and glared at him hard. "You offended me today. You by proving how little you trust, or care for me, and you," she turned to Ray, "by enjoying it. Did you think I'd sit here and let you fight about me, like some stupid girl who can't think for herself? I am an X-Man, and I am a grown woman."
She sped herself up then, consciously speeding the molecules in her entire body again, only in a different way this time (forward motion instead of vibrating back and forth, was the best way she could think to describe the difference between her super speed and her light) and grabbed her boyfriend by his shoulders, suddenly putting her face inches from his. Eye to eye with him, and holding onto him as if for her life. She lowered her voice, pleased with the look of confusion on his face as to how she had appeared there, how she had managed to get such a grip on him so suddenly. She started pushing him backwards, away from the others. And started growling at him, "We have been through this too many times. I am not yours, and you are not mine. If you want to be with me, then be with me. But do not pretend that you own me, or you will lose me."
His eyes were wide, and he was stumbling backwards, trying to keep up with the speed at which she was pushing him. Obviously very off balance by her sudden shift in tactics, and rather frightened by this side of her.
Which was exactly what Aurora wanted. So she kept pushing him backwards, and tightened her grip on his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his skin just a little. Just enough to remind him who was in charge. "Do you understand me, Rober'? Tell me that you understand me."
He nodded, quickly, his curling hair falling into his eyes now, his breathing becoming heavy. "I do, JM. I understand. But he—,"
She stopped, suddenly. "No buts. None. I don't want to hear it. You're both idiots. And I don't want to see your faces for the rest of the day."
He opened his mouth to protest again, but she was halfway to the house, in a flash of light, before he even got a word out.
She was royally pissed off.
Logan could smell her before she even came through the kitchen door. And she was definitely royally pissed off.
She practically blew by him as he decided to say something to her. "Somethin' eatin' you, Flashlight?"
The girl (Aurora. He was obviously not talking to Jeanne-Marie. This girl was pure, unadulterated Aurora, that much was clear from the scent of her—angry and unfamiliar.) stopped her progress toward the hallway at the sound of his voice, and turned to look at him. She was glaring at him, in fact, with those intense, crystal clear blue eyes she shared with her wise-ass of a brother.
But she didn't speak.
He was well aware of Jeanne-Marie Beaubier's dissociative disorder, and all of the troubles it could bring with it. Some things, things that scared her, turned her into a crying puddle of Québécois. And other things, that brought out the fight in her, turned her into this. A straight up, no-nonsense advertisement for women's liberation.
Rodgers woulda liked this one, really. Aurora.
But she was staring at him, obviously in the middle of a personality swing, and he knew he had to do something to calm her down. Before she went into full-on bitch mode and busted down a wall. The girl had the power in her to do it, if she decided to. And from the look in her eye, and the smell of her, she was about to at any moment.
So he crooked a finger at her, gesturing for her to return to him. He knew better than most how something long-buried in your head could get the better of you. And make you sorry for it, at the end of the day. Sure, it wasn't another personality in his head with him, but he could understand, at least. And he wasn't about to let her walk out of here in this feral state, and let her do something she'd be sorry about later—either physically or emotionally.
She cocked her head at him, obviously considering the merits of such an action. And after only a second, complied, flashing once, and reappearing at the table, in the seat across from where he had been enjoying his paper and coffee in peace.
"What happened?" He asked, hoping this wouldn't be too difficult. He'd only ever dealt with her in this state, what Charles had assured him was her "Aurora" personality taking charge, in a combat situation. The pheromones she gave off when she was like this were therefore less familiar to him, and spoke clearly of her switch. She had flashes of this daily, of course, but it was the middling personality, the strange combination of the dominating Aurora and the repressed Jeanne-Marie, who was usually seen around the house every day.
"I think boys are idiots," she informed him, formerly thick joual accent nearly gone, no more present than it was in her brother, who had a much firmer grip on English than she had been given at that awful fucking school she'd grown up at.
"Yeah, well, I'd agree," he rumbled, fighting an urge to smile. The girl was a natural flirt, and it was bound to cause some trouble, just like it did for that stubborn little shit of a boyfriend she had when he started. Certainly had increased the amount of spontaneous arousal suffered by the adolescent male population of the school, anyhow. Which could do nothing but cause trouble, really. "But what did the boys do, and which ones are we talkin' about?"
"Roberto," she practically growled, curling her hand into a fist.
He had to admit, she did look pretty when she was angry. Turned up the intensity on her features about a hundred percent, made them sharper, more defined. Exact same effect it had on her bother Johnny, in fact. Made her look much older than 18, so much that he couldn't shake the unnerving feeling that there were two very old souls living inside the Beaubier twins. Only, Johnny almost always looked pissed off. It was rare in her, so he actually bothered to notice. "Love trouble huh?"
She narrowed those icy eyes at him now, fearlessly. Smelled fearless too. Just angry. "You might say that. He started a fight with Ray for putting his arm around me, for talking to me."
Logan nodded, carefully schooling his face into submission. If he didn't he was sure he'd be compelled to grin at her. Shoulda' known. Just like JM and Roberto, to get into this kind of trouble. "Well, did you knock 'em out?"
She shook her head. "I threatened to. I don't know what to do to make them stop. He has no respect for me."
"Don't know about that, kid," he shook his head, "maybe he just thinks with the wrong brain a little too much. He's a hot head, your Berto. You gotta learn to live with it, just like he's gotta learn to live with you flirtin'."
She glared at him again, "I wasn't flirting. You sound like Jean-Paul."
Christ forbid. "Sorry, girl, but them's the breaks. I'd tell him the same thing, and I'm sure I'll have to eventually. Want me to go talk to him, or you gonna be ok?"
She nodded, but stopped glaring. "Of course I am. I'm not a child."
At that, he let himself laugh. More of a snort, really. But for him, it was a laugh. "No, you definitely ain't. And if I were those boys, I'd keep it in mind. Or they're likely to end up with busted lips."
"Busted knees, as well," she growled.
Logan shook his head, but actually felt reassured. Her smell had returned to something more familiar, her body was relaxing. She seemed to be ok, just fucking pissed. And really, she had a point. "Alright, I was just makin' sure you weren't gonna go wreck the house or yourself. Take it easy, huh Jeanne-Marie? And next time, come find me." Not that he thought fighting over a girl was terrible—there were a lot worse things the kids could be up to. But this girl, in particular, needed stability. She was lucky she'd gone this way, instead of turning into a pile of goo, but that usually only happened when either her life or her brother's seemed to be at stake.
At least, as far as he knew.
She furrowed her formerly smooth brow, and pursed her lips for a moment. But said, "Yes, Mr. Logan, thank you."
As she stood to go, Jamie Madrox came wandering into the room, head buried in a book, and nearly ran smack into her next to the doorway. He looked up, wide-eyed, and gaped at the look on her face.
Logan snorted again. She was pretty scary, really, when she was like this. And to a fourteen year old kid, she had to be even scarier.
But she looked down at him, her expression hidden from him, and said, "What are you reading, Jamie?"
The kid stuttered for a moment, as Logan watched with mild amusement, and finally managed to spit out. "A… a recipe. I wanted cookies… peanut butter chocolate chip ones."
Aurora cocked her head, and Logan saw her shoulders relax, just a bit. "Want some help?"
Jeanne-Marie tried to breathe normally. The cookies, and Jamie, were helping, of course, but she still felt awfully irritated. And she still didn't want to see Roberto's face, or Ray's, for the rest of the day.
The worst part about it was that she had been having a really lovely conversation with the blonde boy. Something really nice, sweet. And Roberto had to go into jealous mode and ruin it, make it feel like she'd done something she shouldn't have. And he was wrong, of course. She'd done nothing wrong, and she knew it. He was just a hot head, like Mr. Logan had said.
And so was she.
So she tried to calm down, felt the light slowly fading from behind her eyes. And cracked another egg into the huge mixing bowl Jamie was peering into intently. "Ok," he muttered, thoughtfully, "I think the next thing is the… um… brown sugar."
She smiled at him. He blushed. And she put the cup scoop into the bag of brown sugar and began pressing it down with the back of the spoon industriously, while he measured out the regular sugar. "Um… Jeanne-Marie… it's really nice of you to help me. I never made cookies before, but I kinda miss having them. Mom makes them all the time."
Again, she smiled at him, "I've never made them either, honestly. But I'm happy to help. I need something to do, and if it's important to you, all the better, non?"
"You're really nice," he almost whispered, looking at the sugar bag intently.
Such a cute boy. So sweet. And it had to be hard on him, all the older kids leaving him out of everything, just because he was a few years younger. "Sometimes I'm mean."
"You're nicer than Jean-Paul," he started smiling again, looking back up at her.
She laughed at that, "I hear that every day, Jamie. But don't be afraid of him, he is totally harmless."
He made a face that said he couldn't possibly believe her, and then kept smiling as they worked. They chatted aimlessly about the younger boy's family, his friends from home, his school here in Bayville, since he hadn't been to high school yet. And slowly, Jeanne-Marie felt her anger slipping away from her.
Particularly once they started the mixer, and Jamie ended up with a face-full of flour. He tripped backwards, fell into the chair, and multiplied himself a few times.
They were just spooning out the first of their creations onto the cookie sheet, she and the small army of Jamies (who made the work quite fast, really,) when Jean-Paul came into the kitchen. And she could feel that he was not happy.
She didn't even have to look up from the cookies to know. "Hello, brother."
The Jamies looked at her, as one, and their eyes went wide.
She mouthed the word "harmless" to the crowd of him, and turned to meet her brother as he came toward her.
"Jeanne-Marie," he said quietly, "are you alright?"
She smiled at him, and opened her arms for a hug, "I am. Still a little angry, but I'm alright. How did you know?"
He gathered her into his arms and smoothed her hair for a moment, warm and reassuring. She knew that everyone thought him cold, but they were wrong. He could be the sweetest, most caring person she had ever known, if he decided to.
If he decided not to, of course, he was the absolute worst. But at the moment, he seemed concerned and open. So she continued to smile, into his shoulder. Not leaning on him for support, but enjoying the warmth of the hug, and the unspoken promise that he was there for her.
"I saw Drake in the hallway, with a partially iced-up Roberto. Apparently they went after each other again, after you left."
Shocked, she looked back up at him. "They did what?"
He rolled his eyes, "Roberto went after Ray, when you left. Jesus, what a soap opera you're causing."
She pursed her lips at him, "It was not my fault."
"Um… sorry to interrupt," a very small voice said from beside them. "But I think we're done with this."
The twins looked over, as one, to see one Jamie, trying to hide behind a dishtowel.
Jeanne-Marie let go of her brother, almost gratefully, since she didn't much care for his last statement, and helped Jamie to put the first batch of cookies into the oven. She should have known Jean-Paul would blame her for this. He always blamed her for anything that happened, when it involved boys. And he was one to talk, the way he chased after Pietro Maximoff…
::They're both fine, Bobby iced Roberto a bit, and Sam apparently flew off with Ray into a shrub the minute he began retaliating. But I think you should reconsider your choice in boyfriends.::
She shot him an irritated look. ::You should speak English when others are in the room. It's rude to leave Jamie out.:: and then switched back into English. "It doesn't matter if they're alright, brother. They act like I'm some kind of prize. And yes, if they don't stop, maybe I should reconsider my choice in boyfriends."
Jamie shot her a sidelong glance at that, and his eyes popped again. He was obviously picking up on the events of the day from what they were saying, and he was probably shocked to hear about this fight.
::He doesn't need to hear what I have to say.::
"Then it can wait until he's not here."
"Jeanne-Marie—,"
She stood up straighter, and spun on him, feeling her face flushing pink with anger. Why would no one listen to her today? Had she suddenly turned into the Invisible Girl? "Not now, Jean-Paul."
He just stared at her, eyes narrowed, unmoving. He clearly thought that now was the perfect time, and though she'd silenced him for a moment… she knew it wouldn't last long.
"Um… you won't need me for a few minutes, JM," Jamie said, back to being six Jamies, and finishing up spooning out the next batch of cookie dough. "I'm gonna go outside and see what Kitty and Rogue are doing, ok?"
She tried to smile at him, and honestly felt some of the anger leave her tight shoulders and back as she looked at the boy. "Sure. I'll be here when you get back, I'll watch the cookies."
Six Jamies nodded, and practically ran out the door.
She sighed, and looked back at her brother, ::He's afraid of you.::
::What's wrong with you?:: He ignored her altogether. Just like Roberto had.
::Me?! What's wrong with me?! First Roberto gets mad at me for talking to Ray, then Ray thinks it's funny, then you come in here and demand that I stop what I'm doing and talk to you about whatever you want right here and now? And now everyone is ignoring me or treating me like I don't matter, and you ask me what's wrong with me?:: It was starting again, the light. She could feel it, behind her eyes. ::The only decent boy in this house is Jamie Madrox. And possibly Bobby Drake and Sam Guthrie, but they're old enough to be just as awful as the rest of you.::
For a minute, his ears seemed to be turning pink. His brow wrinkled up and his eyes were dangerously narrow. But after that minute, he simply shook his head and sighed at her. ::I didn't mean it like that. I was simply worried about you, Sister.::
And just like that, she relaxed entirely. She leaned against the counter limply, crossing her arms over her chest. ::I know.::
::He treats you like a prize, you are right. I cannot stand to watch this. You deserve better.::
::He has his good moments, brother. He is sweet, and charming, and… and a really excellent dancer.:: And she smiled at this, with a weak laugh.
His face softened further, and he came to stand next to her, leaning on the counter as well. He echoed her own stance, and crossed his arms over his chest, then leaned his shoulder against hers. ::I don't like him, nevertheless.::
::I don't like Pietro, really.::
He looked over at her, suddenly. ::It's not the same.::
She looked back, met his gaze fearlessly. ::Isn't it?::
His expression suddenly went blank, and he only blinked at her. ::Absolutely not. Not even close. I do not have a boyfriend, and I do not want one. He's a friend.::
She shrugged, ::I know you don't like Roberto. But think about it, next time you decide to try and tell me what to do. I don't like Pietro. But I knew you liked him, that you wanted more, and I saw how sad you were without him, so I tried to help you find him again, when you lost him. Think about that.::
He took a deep breath. ::I told you—::
::I don't care,:: She said simply. ::You boys, you all think you can run my life. Poor, crazy, sweet Jeanne-Marie. She needs your help to decide what's best. She doesn't know when a boy is flirting. She doesn't know what she's gotten herself into. Do you believe that, brother? That those things, that they are all I am?::
She could feel perfectly clearly that he was torn between anger, confusion, and guilt almost equally. When he was right next to her, it was so obvious. And so predictable, from him, these things. ::You do need help sometimes… the only reason a boy like that talks to a girl is because he wants to sleep with her. You are old enough to know better, yet all you do is encourage their behavior.::
::That's ridiculous!,:: she laughed at him, ::Even if Ray is attracted to me, it doesn't mean he will act on it. That is what separates us from animals, control. And friendship. And you think I need help sometimes? Tell me, brother, do you?::
He only looked at her for another moment. And then said, ::Lose him. Roberto is not good for you. I won't see you treated like some trophy to be fought for. And if I hear of it again, I will personally destroy both of them.::
::Not if I get them first,:: She said, coldly. And that was how she felt, at the moment. Cold. Just who did he think he was, coming in here like this…
::Fine, that's lovely. You do it. But you'd better be fast, if you think you can get them before I do,:: and with that, a very irritated Jean-Paul pushed himself off the counter, and started toward the hallway he'd come from once again.
::And how are you treating me, brother?:: She called after him.
He stopped. And turned to face her. ::What does that mean?::
::You say he treats me like a prize, but you treat me like a child. Is that any better?::
::I love you, Jeanne-Marie. I only want you to be happy.::
::If you loved me, you would support me in my decisions, not tell me what to do.::
A wave of anger suddenly rolled off of her brother, and he practically growled at her from the hallway. ::If you were more careful about whose lap you sat on, I wouldn't feel the need to tell you what to do.::
::Talk to me about whose lap I sit on when you're done making a fool of yourself with Pietro.::
His eyes flashed, instantly. His face turned pink. He growled deep in his throat.
And he turned on his heel and stalked away.
She turned to the stove and sighed, checking the time, feeling strangely… in charge. Only ten minutes. Two more and the cookies should be ready.
And good Lord, she was done with boys. Hard headed idiots, the lot of them.
Jeanne-Marie woke up to the sound of a knock on her door. She sighed, slid out from under her sheets, found a pair of shorts, and padded to the door quickly. "Coming, just a moment."
She should have expected this particular visitor, of course. She'd said she didn't want to see him for the rest of the day, yesterday, and she hadn't. But it was, officially, tomorrow. So here he was. "Roberto," she sighed, as she swung the door open.
His huge, dark eyes flicked up to hers, then away quickly, down to the floor. "Can I… come in?"
She took a deep breath, and said, "Oui." Then stepped back to let him inside the room she shared with Jean (who was already up and out, as usual.)
She went back to her bed, and he followed, climbing up to sit beside her, their backs to the headboard, their legs stretched out in front of them. And she looked straight ahead, not sure how to feel about this.
On one hand, she did adore him. She felt so happy with him, some times. She liked to dance with him, to watch him, to kiss him. To talk with him on long nights, when they couldn't sleep. Talking about silly things, like his home, her school, random ridiculous thoughts on sports or music or clothes or anything. He was just so… fun.
But she had to admit, she was still angry. Mostly with Jean-Paul, who was supposed to know her best, but yes, also with him. Because he was supposed to know, and respect her as well. And if he didn't have that… why were they wasting their time?
"I'm sorry, JM," he said, after a moment of silence. "My temper… I know it was stupid, I know I was wrong. He probably didn't mean anything by it, and if he did, you could've handled it. I just… I don't like him. You know that. If it was Bobby or something, I would've been ok. But I can't stand that guy."
She looked over at him now. He was looking down at his hands in his lap, full lips pouty, eyes only half open, so downcast.
And she reached out, and took one of his hands in hers. "I know. But… we had a deal. You remember, non? Even if it was flirting, it was supposed to be ok. You flirt with everyone, I flirt with everyone, but we have a deal. We like only each other, in this way."
He looked up at her, a guilty half smile on his face now, and squeezed her hand. "Yeah, you're right. I just got pissed off, and it was dumb. I really am sorry."
So pretty. She found herself smiling at him. But she hadn't forgotten. "And you ignored me. You acted like I was just the prize in your stupid fight. That's what hurt me."
He winced, and looked back down at their hands, intertwined and resting half on his leg, half on hers, and she followed his gaze. Dark brown and pale ivory, entangled with each other. Something about it was fascinating, really. Jeanne-Marie made a mental note to write something about that, some day.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I don't know why I did that. It's stupid. I know better, I know you're more than that."
"You forget it again, and we will have problems."
He looked up at her, and gave a hopeful half smile. "But we don't right now?"
"This is what Jean once called a get out of jail free card. I like you too much to tell you to go away, Rober'. You know that. And it was a good apology," she smiled at him gently, but brightly. Because she meant it. He did realize what he'd done wrong. At least there was that. "But… you also tried to hurt him after I left."
He bit the inside of his cheeks, eyes wide and searching around, as if for an exit. "Yeah well… nothing happened. Bobby, um…,"
"I heard. But I'm not joking with you. I will come after you next time."
"I believe it," he grinned, wryly. "Anyhow, who told you about that?"
"Jean-Paul."
He grimaced and wrinkled up his nose. "Oh, shit."
She nodded, "Exactly."
"So I should steer clear of him, huh?"
"That might be best. We fought about it."
"Fuck."
Again, she nodded, "Yes, fuck indeed. But don't worry, it wasn't so bad."
That, at least, made him laugh, and he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Ok. Well I don't wanna be late for training, but I had to come in here first thing and… clear this up. I'll see you at lunch?"
She let go of his hand, and nodded, "Sim."
He grinned at her, shaking his head so that those beautiful black waves of hair fell over his eyes, and laughed. "Muito excelente! Adeus, querida!"
As she watched him leave, she felt that she'd done the right thing. After all, she felt happier.
Roberto resisted the urge to skip down the hallway.
He'd been a shit, and he knew it. Yesterday had been yet another shining example of the DaCosta temper, and it had nearly cost him the sweetest girl he'd ever met. Not to mention the prettiest one. And the most energetic.
Everything. Jeanne-Marie Beaubier was everything he'd ever wanted, expected, from a girl. Smart, pretty, funny, and she could probably kick his ass. His father had always said that looks were his first priority, but if she couldn't kick his ass, the relationship probably wasn't going to get too far. The DaCosta men were strong, proud, and perhaps a little violent tempered. Ok, really violent tempered. They needed women who could knock them on their ass, figuratively and possibly literally.
And Jeanne-Marie Beaubier was perfect.
Aside from that whole thing with the scary fucking twin brother from hell. The one who he knew did not much care for him dating his sister. And who he also knew held far more sway over his sister than Roberto could ever hope to.
That was going to get really annoying, some day. Having to compete for her attention with her own brother.
But that was the one bad thing, really… he always felt like he was competing for her attention. And attention was something Berto knew he craved, just like he craved sunlight. He wasn't shy about it—he liked to be looked at, admired, and appreciated. JM was particularly good at the appreciating thing… it's just that she was good at it with everyone. And he, irrationally, he knew, wanted her to be good at it with him. Not Bobby or Sam or Alex or even Jean-Paul. And definitely not Ray Crisp.
Whom he happened to dislike, more than he'd disliked anyone in quite some time.
He silently vowed to get a game of mutant soccer going, and find a reason to slide tackle Berserker. Possibly from behind, if the ref wasn't looking.
Puta que pariu, fuck the red card, if he was. It'd be worth it.
But as he was thinking these pleasantly devious thoughts, he rounded the corner…
And nearly ran into the scary fucking twin brother from hell.
Both boys stopped. And looked at each other.
Roberto, for his part, felt his knees go slightly weak. Because yes, for some reason, Jean-Paul Beaubier struck him as… damn frightening. He was like a loose cannon. Unpredictable, mean, and he could shred your self-esteem entirely with just a few words.
And nothing seemed to be able to shred his.
That, and he was fucking fast. Berto was strong, stronger than anyone else here. But the idea of getting punched in the jaw 100 times before he could even blink was daunting, even to him and his astounding self-confidence.
He wanted to go around the older boy, pretend he wasn't afraid, that nothing was wrong, but Jean-Paul spoke before he could force himself into motion. "I'm only going to say this once, Sunny," he lilted, in that watered-down version of his Jeanne-Marie's accent. His voice was quiet, his face was composed. But there was definitely something dark behind those (disturbingly familiar) eyes. "If I ever find out about you upsetting her like that again, I'll make sure it's the last time you ever upset anyone."
Roberto swallowed. But he wasn't about to look like a pansy ass bitch. No way. Not in front of this guy. "I apologized, and admitted I was wrong. Like a man. I made it better. So you can just butt out, because it has fuck all to do with you."
Electric blue eyes sparked dangerously, and Roberto found himself held by the collar, with Jean-Paul's face only inches from his own, in a flash. Even more disorienting than that, however, was the similarity of the action—grabbing him like this, staring him down, so close, so suddenly—with how JM had reacted to him yesterday… she'd done almost the exact same thing.
"Watch your mouth, kid," Jean-Paul sneered, eyes boring into Berto's relentlessly, so close, burning so violently. "Jeanne-Marie has everything to do with me. And don't forget that."
Yeah right, as if either of you would ever let me. Filho da puta... The thought ran through his mind, instantly, but for some reason, he couldn't make it come out. He just stared, eyes narrowed. And fumed inside at his own impotence. At his fear.
And suddenly found himself released, and JP now standing a few feet from him, hands in his pockets, chewing his bottom lip.
Maybe this disorder thing, with the personalities, was genetic… because it felt like a completely different Jean-Paul looking at him right now, all of the sudden. Someone who didn't particularly like him, yes, but nowhere near violent. Simply… thoughtful. Just like that.
Jesus. What a fucking family.
"But I'm glad you apologized. I guess you get to live another day."
"Gee, thanks," Roberto managed to halfway sneer.
JP nodded. As if he'd meant it.
Fucking infuriating.
And he now realized, as his heart finally returned to it's proper place in his chest (as opposed to in his throat, where it had been camping out) that he'd been too scared to even power up. If it had been anyone else…
"Just make her happy. Or piss off. She has enough to worry about without having an asshole for a boyfriend," the Canadian was saying, as he casually strolled right past Roberto, and continued on his way down the hall. As if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
Roberto straightened out his t-shirt, which was hanging off of him all lopsided, stretched out at the collar from the older boy's grip. Fucker. Yeah, she has shit to worry about, like having an asshole for a brother. But again, he didn't say what he was thinking. The weakness in his stomach, in his knees, kept him from it. He felt positively sick, in fact. Something in his throat, something sour. Like acid. Like leftover fear.
As he continued to the locker rooms, already late for his session with the other New Mutants, he found that he no longer had the urge to skip. But he did want to hit something.
He always worked better in the Danger Room when he was angry, anyhow.
From the diary of Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, August 26
Dear Diary,
Boys are absolutely ridiculous.
I do not understand what is wrong with Roberto. Sometimes, so sweet, so giving, so heroic. So very good. And other times, he acts like he did yesterday. Like an animal whose mate has been threatened. Like I'm some kind of stupid child, who cannot think and act for herself.
I wonder what it is that makes him behave like that? Kitty says my first thought is probably right, it's simply their Alpha Male personalities. Humans are just animals, she reminds me, only with less fur and buildings. And friendship. And love. Those last two are my additions, but I cannot help but believe them to be true. I know what the soeurs would say to me—that these thoughts are blasphemy. Man is Divine in origin.
But as much as I believe some of what they said… some of it was obviously a lie. I am no demon. And man is only an animal. Just because our brains are bigger, it means very little. In the end, we just go back to biology. Some can overcome it. And some don't have the strength.
Roberto ought to have the strength, however. He is far too smart to give in to such things. Today, we spent much of the evening together. It was awkward at first, holding his hand, the way his eyes would meet mine for just a second and then quickly look at the floor. And something was bothering him, but he wouldn't say what. He only said he was glad that I was so good to him, and could forgive him. And so I dropped the subject.
But I do wonder if I did the right thing, agreeing to try again. I know it felt right. But how can I expect him to change? Would I be able to?
No, I wouldn't. And I wouldn't want to. Some things, I suppose I would change. Or I wouldn't see the Professor twice a week, with Jean-Paul, to try and close the split in my mind. But the things that I think of as me, my love for beauty, for art, for music, for flying, for people… these things, I would never change. Why should I expect him to?
Somehow, I feel he would expect me to change, if he wanted. And that's what worries me most.
Either way, things are alright, for now. By the end of the night he was stealing kisses, and I couldn't help but steal a few of my own. I do love his lips. And his hands. And really, almost everything about him.
I only hope it's enough.
As for my brother, he sat next to me at dinner today, after avoiding me all day, and smiled at me. This is his way of saying he holds no grudge, and so I smiled back, to let him know that I don't either. It happens sometimes, that we fight. We should not have let it turn into insults—petty things about who flirts more or who is making a fool of themselves. If I wanted him to treat me like a grown-up, I should treat him like one, and respect his decisions, his way of life.
Even if I don't care for Pietro Maximoff. I think I would, if he were just Wanda's brother to me. Or even just Jean-Paul's friend. But when I fear he has my brother's heart in his hands, when I know how cruel he is, it's difficult to trust him.
Still, I shouldn't have said such things. And neither should Jean-Paul. But if there is something we can understand about each other, it is our temper. It seems to be the same.
Ray also apologized to me today, and swore he didn't mean to laugh, he just couldn't help it. I told him he'd better learn to. He agreed, and watched Kenshin with Kurt, Kitty, Bobby, and me.
So, another day ends, and I find myself forgiving all the boys who make my life so difficult sometimes. I suppose I taught them something about myself, yesterday. But I have a bad feeling that Berto will always be jealous, Jean-Paul will always be over-protective, and Ray will always think it's funny.
In a way, I wouldn't change a thing about any of them.
But mostly, I really think they all just need a kick in the ass.
At least the cookies came out well.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
AN: Right... girl power or something.
First of all I heart Sue Penkivech.
That said, on to the rest of you, whom I also heart, but she's the beta (read, goddess) so I gotta reprazent.
Guidi- You are far too sweet to me haha. Yeah, I agree, I love my bastard speedsters. I can't help it, it's the whole "fun jerk" thing you're talking about. It's the big win, plain and simple. And yes... the whole Asgard thing screwed Northstar over bigtime... SO lame... The shopping expedition spinoff is half-written-- I will do it. Along with a few other requests, methinks. Thank you for the input, and never feel like a dork philosophizing about Marvelverse to me, sugah. Look at what I do with my time. Who's the dork?! Oh right...
Namida- So glad you thought it was hot ;) I like that site quite a bit, the one you pointed out, has some fabulously dirty JP fic on it. Brilliant. I read a few of them a few months ago and I'm glad to find it again!
Fata Morgana- A snog is hot, when it's our boys! No work required from yours truly! And yes, JM and Wanda could totally bond over their brothers. They were... ah... blessed with interesting ones, that's for sure. As for my French spelling... yeah. It's about on par with my French grammer. God help us all. Thanks for the help, so much.
Risty- Yeah, yeah the make-up chapter got a bit sappy. That's about as sappy as they get, I think. I can't see either of them knowing romance if it hit them upside the head. Glad you had fun with the last chapter, I know I bloody well did. More to come!
Jskullguy- Honestly, you are chock full of ideas. Thanks for all the help, and I'll be emailing you again soon.
Shaman Dani- Oh good, glad you liked it! The whole high thing is all taken from *ahem* personal experiences. So if it seems real... it kinda was. Just not with two super hot speedsters, more like me and about five boys holed up in a dorm room with duct tape on the door... which, by the way, does not work. Just FYI... not that I'm promoting this sort of thing...
Jellyfish- Well hell! Marriage! Awright, sure, but you don't want to sleep outside sugah. It's cold as hell up here in the mountains ;) Anyhow, glad you liked it. Means a lot to me that you like my Northstar and Aurora since they are, quite obviously, my favorites!
Krac- My god... it is like Queer as Folk! Glad you enjoyed, and more should be inc this weekend... assuming something else on my computer doesn't decide to break, like my modem apparently has...
Peanutbaby- Always the sober one huh? Clearly, I've not played that role nearly enough, but I'm glad it seemed true-to-life to you! And I'm glad you thought it was awesome... that honestly means a lot to me.
The Rogue Witch- Some dam good slashy action is all I was going for. Thanks!
Akuma no Tsubasa- Repercussions smrepercussions! Mwahaha. Ok, no seriously, I dunno. I do think Xavier would flip, but I don't think Kitty would tell anyone who would let the Professor find out. Sure he's a psychic and all... but he's not supposed to be nibby right? Er... let's hope! Though I do think the Prof would be extremely unhappy to find that there had been weed under his asparagus all summer... anyhow, I'm glad you felt that the timing was ok on everything. I always worry that I've done something too fast or too slow... made it too contrived. That freaks me out. And also, about the exceptions to the rules in French... yeah. Must be almost as bad as trying to learn English as a second language (talk about exceptions to rules...)
SilverCaladan- So... was that a good kind of insane laughter... or a bad kind? ;)
God, I hope I didn't miss anyone. If I did, just gimme a virtual kick in the arse. Much love -Beaubier-
