A/N: For you: a pointless little chapter about the Acolytes doing their
laundry. You can skip it if you want. It doesn't have any relevants to the
plot of the story. Panther and I just thought it would be fun to observe
them in their natural habitat and see how they each reacted to a specific
stress. Very scientific. Read or don't; it's up to you.**************
************************************************************************
As Remy was riding back to Magneto's base, Piotr and St. John were vegging and not enjoying it. John had gotten so bored that he started to put himself through the police sobriety check.
"I am _so_ BORED," he complained, putting he hands out to his sides, then bringing his index finger in to touch his nose.
"Mmhm," Colossus mumbled while giving himself a ballpoint tattoo.
Pyro got an idea. He stopped walking a straight line (he wasn't very good at it anyway) and sidled up to his teammate.
"So, big boy, wanna go out with me?"
Piotr glared at John. "I am so disturbed."
"Don't deny your feelings!" John teased, giving a mock puppy face.
Colossus shoved his way passed the Aussie and made his way to the garage door. At the door, he turned back around and went to change into some actual clothes. John went with him to the laundry alcove and sorted through the clean clothes that none of them had bothered to put away yet. He ended up with Remy's black bondage pants ( a gift form his old girlfriend in New Orleans (( guess who?)) and one of Piotr's sweat shirts advertising a Russian college, and his own boots.
Piotr came into the laundry semi-room wearing only a white T-shirt and a pair of briefs (A/N: We'll let you decide what color those are).
"Tom Cruisin' it, huh?" Pyro asked.
Piotr gave him a black look. "John, perhaps you should just not talk. And I will drive; you scare me when you are behind the wheel." Colossus pulled a pair of his jeans on. They didn't smell bad, so he figured they were okay. He noticed, finally, the oversized sweatshirt John was wearing. "When we come back, you are putting that in the laundry."
"Sure thing, love," John said, just to tick Piotr off. It worked.
As they were going down the driveway, the other two Acolytes passed Remy on his way back. Since they were in a car, Remy couldn't see John wearing his pants. Pyro waved as the passed.
Back inside, the Cajun tried to find his missing pants. Eventually he settled for finding a _clean_ pair of pants.
"Dirty. Dirty. Bloody... not mine, t'ankfully."
He crouched under their beds to look. He reached under at the hopeful sight of blue denim. When Remy pulled out the pair of pants, they were so old they ripped with the slightest tug. Luckily it was just at the knee and not some place else.
"What de hell happened t' dese?" he wondered out loud. "Who's are dey? Mon Dieu, dey're _mine_. Did John take dese?"
In the end, Remy found no way out of it. He _had_ to do laundry. Twenty minutes later Remy pulled out what was left of that pair of jeans out of the washer. What was left was the waist band, the pockets, and a strip that used to be part of the leg. The rest was a soggy pile at the bottom of the cylinder.
"Hmmm. 'Parently my pants desolve in water," he muttered to himself. Listening to what he just said, Remy broke out in a stupid male smirk and chuckled a little. "So many jokes, so little time. Great, now I'm makin' passes at m'self!"
Shaking his head, Remy started a second load of wash. He grabbed all of his clothes, praying that _something_ would come out alright. In the meantime he cleaned himself up for a night of pissing off hot Goths. He might bother Wanda if the mood struck him... but probably not.
The dryer went off and Remy went to see what had come out. He groaned. He had stuck a sweatshirt in the load which also had his favorite pair of pants in it. This wouldn't be a problem if they hadn't been the corduroys he'd planned on wearing.
With a frustrated sigh he threw the fluffy cords back in the laundry basket. He grabbed a pair of St. John's black denim pants, a bit too tight on him (A/N: take a moment to drool), and began sorting through his clean clothes until he found a semi-Goth one.
It was another one of Belladonna's gifts: a black, button down cotton shirt. It had a red spade outlined on the back with dice showing 11. On the front, over the breast pocket, was the same outline with the words "Lucky 13" on it. He threw it on over the wife beater, just to see Rogue roll her eyes when she saw it. No need for her to know who gave it to him.
Fully dressed, once he got his boots on, he looked at the clock. 9:40. Time to get going.
As Remy was riding back to Magneto's base, Piotr and St. John were vegging and not enjoying it. John had gotten so bored that he started to put himself through the police sobriety check.
"I am _so_ BORED," he complained, putting he hands out to his sides, then bringing his index finger in to touch his nose.
"Mmhm," Colossus mumbled while giving himself a ballpoint tattoo.
Pyro got an idea. He stopped walking a straight line (he wasn't very good at it anyway) and sidled up to his teammate.
"So, big boy, wanna go out with me?"
Piotr glared at John. "I am so disturbed."
"Don't deny your feelings!" John teased, giving a mock puppy face.
Colossus shoved his way passed the Aussie and made his way to the garage door. At the door, he turned back around and went to change into some actual clothes. John went with him to the laundry alcove and sorted through the clean clothes that none of them had bothered to put away yet. He ended up with Remy's black bondage pants ( a gift form his old girlfriend in New Orleans (( guess who?)) and one of Piotr's sweat shirts advertising a Russian college, and his own boots.
Piotr came into the laundry semi-room wearing only a white T-shirt and a pair of briefs (A/N: We'll let you decide what color those are).
"Tom Cruisin' it, huh?" Pyro asked.
Piotr gave him a black look. "John, perhaps you should just not talk. And I will drive; you scare me when you are behind the wheel." Colossus pulled a pair of his jeans on. They didn't smell bad, so he figured they were okay. He noticed, finally, the oversized sweatshirt John was wearing. "When we come back, you are putting that in the laundry."
"Sure thing, love," John said, just to tick Piotr off. It worked.
As they were going down the driveway, the other two Acolytes passed Remy on his way back. Since they were in a car, Remy couldn't see John wearing his pants. Pyro waved as the passed.
Back inside, the Cajun tried to find his missing pants. Eventually he settled for finding a _clean_ pair of pants.
"Dirty. Dirty. Bloody... not mine, t'ankfully."
He crouched under their beds to look. He reached under at the hopeful sight of blue denim. When Remy pulled out the pair of pants, they were so old they ripped with the slightest tug. Luckily it was just at the knee and not some place else.
"What de hell happened t' dese?" he wondered out loud. "Who's are dey? Mon Dieu, dey're _mine_. Did John take dese?"
In the end, Remy found no way out of it. He _had_ to do laundry. Twenty minutes later Remy pulled out what was left of that pair of jeans out of the washer. What was left was the waist band, the pockets, and a strip that used to be part of the leg. The rest was a soggy pile at the bottom of the cylinder.
"Hmmm. 'Parently my pants desolve in water," he muttered to himself. Listening to what he just said, Remy broke out in a stupid male smirk and chuckled a little. "So many jokes, so little time. Great, now I'm makin' passes at m'self!"
Shaking his head, Remy started a second load of wash. He grabbed all of his clothes, praying that _something_ would come out alright. In the meantime he cleaned himself up for a night of pissing off hot Goths. He might bother Wanda if the mood struck him... but probably not.
The dryer went off and Remy went to see what had come out. He groaned. He had stuck a sweatshirt in the load which also had his favorite pair of pants in it. This wouldn't be a problem if they hadn't been the corduroys he'd planned on wearing.
With a frustrated sigh he threw the fluffy cords back in the laundry basket. He grabbed a pair of St. John's black denim pants, a bit too tight on him (A/N: take a moment to drool), and began sorting through his clean clothes until he found a semi-Goth one.
It was another one of Belladonna's gifts: a black, button down cotton shirt. It had a red spade outlined on the back with dice showing 11. On the front, over the breast pocket, was the same outline with the words "Lucky 13" on it. He threw it on over the wife beater, just to see Rogue roll her eyes when she saw it. No need for her to know who gave it to him.
Fully dressed, once he got his boots on, he looked at the clock. 9:40. Time to get going.