Everyone thought his mutation wasn't physical, but they were wrong. Were they ever wrong. Scott sighed silently to himself as he tucked a little something extra in with his towel again. Every day. Every day he had to do this, and even if mutants were ever publicly accepted, he'd have to continue to do this, because this particular mutation looked so stupid. He'd been laughed at before, and worse, when he was different. When he was the one with no parents. When he was 'blind' before he'd gotten his shades, when he'd always been the kid that 'ran into doors' and 'fell down the stairs.' He wouldn't go through that again.

Whenever Scott had the shower, everyone was careful not to surprise him and walk in on him. When Scott was in the shower the shades were off so he could wash everywhere. Everybody knew that not startling him was a very good idea, especially after that incident with a mistimed 'port and a vaporized wall. It had been an accident, but Scott didn't feel particularly guilty about it. It meant nobody would stumble across him in the shower. Nobody would know his secret.

Scott turned on the faucet, let it warm, and then stepped under the warm spray, letting it wash off yesterday's dirt and his attempts to hide his little secret. The towel hung just outside the stall, but the packet he'd hidden within came into the stall with him. Normal people waited until they were out of the stall, dry and dressed before they used such things, but Scott could take no chances. Questions would be asked if anyone saw it, and if anyone saw him before he was finished with it, everyone would know. He would not be laughed at again. He was the leader of the X-Men. He had to be perfect.

Soon enough he was clean and turned off the shower. He pulled in the towel and dried his head and hands, then pulled out the packet. Everything else could wait. He had to get this over with before anyone saw him.

The fierce optic blasts that sent his enemies running had a greater price than the shades he was forced to wear. The shades themselves didn't fully absorb the blasts, but directed nearly half of the force back at his skin. Everyone thought he was fully immune to the effects of his own blasts, but that wasn't quite true. The blasts affected him the same way the sun affected everyone else, giving him a deep tan over his eyes where the blasts were most concentrated that tapered off to a finer tan over the rest of his face. He was still amazed that he'd noticed his 'little problem' before anyone else, but even with the new shades obscuring his vision somewhat, he knew his face better than anyone else. He was just glad that skin tones were neutral enough for him to get the necessary cover-up without help.

Half the Institute ragged him about going outside to go running every day, even when it was raining. snowing, or even hailing once, but he had to. He refused to go to a tanning salon, and this was the only other thing that let him cover up enough for the little packet to finish the job.

If he didn't go running, he wouldn't get any tan on the rest of his body. If he didn't have that tan, the marks on his face from the optic blasts would become patently obvious, and he wouldn't allow that. As long as he went running, as long as he had some kind of tan, nobody noticed how his face was a slightly darker shade that everything else, but that made sense after all. He never wore hats, and his face was the only thing that was always uncovered in every kind of weather. It made perfect sense to anyone who took the time to think about it that his face would be more tanned. They didn't have to know that it was because of his eyes.

All that was all well and good, but it still didn't cover up the darkest skin, the skin around his eyes. Some of it peeked out from behind his glasses, though they deflected enough of the blasts straight back to give him raccoon eyes. He took out the packet and smoothed it over most of the top half of his face, gradually smoothing it over to match his natural skin tones without looking in the mirror. After all, he couldn't do that without destroying the mirror.

After a few moments Scott finished with the foundation and wiped his hands on his washcloth, which he immediately folded to hide the cream's marks, then slipped the foundation packet inside the washcloth to hide it as well. He could wash the cloth out later. Then he took the time to towel the rest of his body dry and put on his shades. Scott relaxed slightly. The difficult part was over. The rest of his morning routine was the same as everyone else's, with one minor exception.

Scott got dressed, groomed himself, and then went to wake up most of the Institute. It wouldn't do to have anyone think that he was trying to hide anything in the mornings, and none would ever suspect that so long as he routinely got in their faces every morning. After all, someone had to wake the Institute up on the days where Kurt decided not to give one of his infamous wake-up calls.

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Still clueless on what to do for Fred, Lance, Bobby, Evan, Kurt, Rahne, Kitty, Sam, Amara, Jubes, Ray, Roberto...anyone I'm forgetting?

Any and all feedback and/or suggestions would be greatly appreciated.