Author's Notes: Um, yeah, I should be working on the next episode of
Midnight, but as I'm clearly not, would somebody please DEAR GOD, get this
fking squirrel off me! Right, sorry about that, severe inside joke that
no one should ever ever be subjected to. Anyway, everyone beside my sister,
if you can spot the Jimmy Buffett song title in here, I'll give you a pixie
stick. Wow, I just volunteered to have a bunch of hyper reviewers, huh? Oh,
and before anyone tries to get cute, the story title is also a song title,
that one doesn't count. If you really need a hint, go look at my profile.
Thanks serpentine for the beta reading! A few things that you'll probably figure out soon enough but I feel obliged to mention: Remy's living in the Mansion, Jean has the Phoenix Force in her head, and Rogue and Remy are dating...yep, threw this world into a tailspin, didn't I?
Disclaimer: Flamingo1 owns X-Men Evolution and other related characters. True False
If you picked A can I please have a dose of whatever narcotic is
currently floating in your bloodstream? In plainer words, I DON'T own
X-Men Evolution.
Random Quote: "Don't forget your RUBBER CHICKEN!!" Hey, I did say
random...
Rogue stepped out of the shower stall into the cooler air of the bathroom. Rivulets of water ran off her as she hurriedly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. While she had immensely enjoyed the warm shower after the grueling two hour Danger Room session, Rogue still hated being cold in that split second of bareness. It also tended to make her feel very unguarded. After all, her bare skin was one of the most dangerous things on the planet, and leaving it completely uncovered felt obscene, even when she was alone. In the shower it didn't really matter and she didn't think about it because she was warm, but the cold brought her skin into sharp relief. Deciding to leave that depressing train of thought at the station, she began drying her legs, reflecting on how she needed to tan more instead.
Finished with her body, Rogue moved the towel to her hair. Toweling her hair dry was easy, as she'd kept it rather short for a long time, since before she'd even joined the Brotherhood. Back before her powers had manifested and she had been saddled with a bunch of psyches in her head. Though they still tended to bother her at times of great stress or anger, Rogue had gained some victories over these wispy manifestations of everyone she'd ever touched. The major one being that she could now to some extent control the powers that she had absorbed permanently. While it was tiring, with practice she had become a very effective fighter in the Danger Room.
Once again firmly telling herself that she was getting off on depressing tangents, she finished with her hair, leaving it damp. Rogue had come to like the way it curled slightly if she didn't blow-dry it after a shower. Gathering her sweat soiled uniform, she threw it into the special hamper for such things that all the upstairs bathrooms had. The uniforms were made from a special lightweight Kevlar like material and had to be dry- cleaned. At least the Professor paid the Indonesian couple who ran the laundromat extra to stay quiet about what they cleaned on a regular basis. They had kids they were putting through college. That can get expensive.
Wrapping the towel more tightly around her, Rogue poked her head out the door of the bathroom to make sure no one was in the hall. Part of this was sheer modesty; part was still the ever-present fear that she would accidentally zap someone into a coma. Although she could sort of control the other psyches powers, she hadn't yet learned to manage her own by controlling if and when her skin absorbed people. Reminding herself sharply that this was the third time she'd started down a self pitying line of thought, Rogue stopped at the door to her room with her hand on the doorknob. (Rogue and Kitty had stopped sharing rooms the day Rogue turned eighteen. Though the girls were still good friends, they'd mutually decided on each having her own space. Everyone else had wholeheartedly agreed. Must've been the catfights. Oops, was that my outloud voice? Hey, get back to the story, what are you still doing here listening to me!?)
Entering the room, she went straight to the Japanese foldable silk dressing screen that stood in a small circle around her closet. The screen was pale lavender with hand painted flowers in darker purple. Logan had got it from a lady he knew in Japan, he'd given it to Rogue for Christmas the year before last. She'd marveled at the beauty of it and had kept it carefully wrapped in plastic in the closet for the longest time. Then one day Logan had walked in and asked where it was. He said it was an heirloom from the lady's family and was meant to be used, not kept out of sight. Since then, Rogue had never taken it down; in fact it had subtly influenced the design of the room. Instead of the dark and heavy black that most things in the room had been, now there were more (and lighter) greens, blues, and purples. She even let Jubilee paint some Chinese symbols for love and luck in yellow on one of the walls.
Realizing that she'd been standing there for the longest time, Rogue started digging through her closet for something to wear. As her decorating tastes had changed, so had her choice of clothing. She still had to strike the delicate balance between the summer heat and safety, but most of the things in her closet were not black anymore. In fact, she had proved to have almost bizarre color ideas, but they always seemed to work in her outfits. This particular one started with white leggings, over which Rogue put a blue denim skirt that came to her knees. Her top was white cotton, a spaghetti string tank, with a long sleeved light blue gauze shirt over it. The one thing in the entire ensemble that was not white or light blue was an emerald green scarf that she'd wrapped through the loops in her skirt like a belt.
Rogue actually had two full-length mirrors, one inside her dressing screen and one for the rest of the room. Kurt teased her about being vain but the truth was that she didn't want to step out from behind her screen if she hadn't first checked her appearance. Figuring it was a leftover thing from being a teenager, she just sort of succumbed to the inevitable and checked her appearance twice every morning. She stepped out from behind the screen, heading for the table where the other mirror stood by and her makeup and hair supplies were. Turning away from the table before she put on any makeup and facing the full-length mirror that stood slightly to her right, Rogue checked her appearance approvingly until a small motion in the background of the reflection caught her attention.
Remy LeBeau lounged on the bed behind her, looking quite pleased with himself that she hadn't noticed him there. She whirled on her grinning boyfriend with a look that was half amusement, half annoyance:
"How in God's name did you get in here without me noticing?"
"Chere, I came in before you did." As he said this, Remy made a small gesture at the window, which Rogue now realized stood open to the mid- morning air. A slight breeze stirred the gauzy curtains, though it was probably Storm created, as this summer day had been quite calm so far. Snorting softly to herself, she turned her back on him and picked up a hairbrush to do her hair. Keeping an eye on the mirror gave her advance warning when he walked up behind her and dropped his head on her covered shoulder. Rogue merely grinned at him in the mirror, waiting for him to say something.
He apparently realized, or just felt the need to say something, or I needed to get this conversation going:
"Glad to see Wolvie didn' kill y'."
Rogue looked at him out of the corner of her eye, amazed at this man's ability to split her feelings so well. Here and now, she was half exasperated and half wanting to roll on the floor laughing. "Yah know if you keep callin' him that, he's gonna impale you someday..."
"And that would make moi chere very sad, oui?" Remy tried the patented guy puppy dog look. It actually worked on Rogue if she was in the right mood (ooh, that didn't sound right...), but who ever really knew?
"Hmm...Cajun shishkebobs..." Pretending to actually think about it, she unconsciously licked her lips. "Spicy."
Remy sighed dramatically and stepped back from Rogue, though it was extremely difficult after what she'd just done...damn, he hated having to be a gentleman. Pasting a mock-hurt look on his face, he drawled: "Here I am, expectin' sympathy from chere..."
"Hey, I was the one stuck in the Danger Room this morning! Don't even start telling me 'bout how much sympa-"
Rogue's indignant outburst was cut off with a yelp when Remy grabbed her around the waist into a tight hug, also pinning her arms to her sides. Her first instinct was to tense with the reaction of being restrained, but she quickly relaxed into his embrace and smiled up at him. Despite the summer weather, he still wore his trenchcoat and it wrapped around Rogue seemingly of its own accord. Feeling rather safe right then, she kept the mood light while managing to answer Remy's earlier question truthfully.
"All right, I would be sad if Logan gutted yah, so even though I know it's incredibly hard for yah to do, try not to piss him off?"
Remy grinned right back at her, then whispered in her ear. "Cherie's wish is my command..."
She shivered slightly, that tone of his voice always managed to do that to her, no matter what. Twisting a little bit, she hugged him, then rather reluctantly pulled loose from his arms (and the coat!).
"I'm gonna go to the kitchen and get somethin' to eat. See you around?" Rogue knew exactly why Remy was hanging out on the roof and in her room. He was supposed to have been in an even earlier Danger Room session than her, and they'd stayed out late last night. Therefore, the Cajun was on the run from the Canadian. You'd think they just would've gotten along (being of semi common ancestry-I think) but nooo. Remy had this need to thwart authority especially in the form of small hairy guys with sharp knives in their hands. Logan had a distrust of Remy from the beginning, intensified when Rogue and Remy began dating. Through all this though, the two still managed to have amicable Saturday night poker games. Must be the booze.
He smiled, nodded, and stepped back towards the window. Rogue turned around to go out her door when she felt Remy slap her ass. Ready to smack him, she jumped back around to where he'd been only seconds before, but saw only the open window, fluttering curtains and a two of hearts lying on the windowsill. Able to do nothing but laugh and shake her head, she plucked the card off the sill and slipped it into her back pocket. Still chuckling, she turned and left the room.
Jean Grey had been having a perfectly wonderful day in Hell. She'd woken up late this morning after pushing her snooze button at least five times. Actually the exact count wasn't known, because Jean had no memory of those drowsy minutes. Chalk it up to the wonderful Phoenix Force that had taken up housekeeping in her body and chose to take control every once in a while. That was her, twenty-year-old college student with one of the world's most powerful entities stuck in her head. What a life.
Back to the saga of mayhem that was this Tuesday morning. Jean had to fight a rather disgruntled Jubilee for the shower. Knowing it was unfair, but not really caring, because she didn't want to be late for her classes, Jean tapped into the younger girl's mind and implanted the suggestion of breakfast before a shower. Jubes had had one dazed minute before she apologized to Jean and hurried off towards the dining room. Jean had felt rather self-satisfied until she realized that she wasn't supposed to use her telepathy in an ends justify the means situation. What disturbed the red headed girl even more was that she really didn't seem to care at the moment. Deciding at the time to pursue the thought later, Jean had gone ahead and gotten in the shower.
Then the fun had really begun. In the Mansion, water was heated by solar power. Now, this meant that while most of the kids could get a shower in without the water going cold, the last few people in the end of the line would get icy spots. Normally Bobby volunteered to take those, the cold water didn't bother him at all, but today he'd had an early Danger Room session. Which, if you want to wrap this up quickly, meant that Jean was standing under a spurt of water that went from warm to cold approximately every three minutes.
Muttering curses under her breath, but still unwilling to try and use Phoenix to warm up the water, Jean merely tried to hurry through her shower routine. This caused her to get soap in her eyes at least twice. She hurried out of the shower, swiping her reddened tearful eyes with a towel. Halfway down the hall to her room, Jean distinctly remembered not putting conditioner in her hair. Deciding to say screw it, cause she was already late enough, Jean began rifling through her closet for something suitable to wear.
Pulling out and throwing on the first things she saw (a pair of caramel- toned slacks and a white cotton scoop neck tank top) she rushed to her mirror to fix her hair. Wanting it up off her neck, she put it into a simple but effective ponytail, applied her makeup, and rushed out the door of her room, down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Searching through the cupboards, Jean saw a wrapper for a package of blueberry bagels. These were her favorite, and grinning happily, she pulled the last one from the bag. She abruptly stopped smiling when she noticed the blue-green mold growing all over the breakfast food... "Damn it..."
After eating a simple cup of yogurt (spilling some on her new purse), Jean hustled out to her car. She noticed with an uplifting feeling that the pretty silver Liberty was still clean from when she'd washed it yesterday. Well, clean except for the large white streak of bird refuse marking the top of the driver's side door. Sighing she told herself that there wasn't anything she could do about it now, and sitting here worrying only made her later.
Jean opened the door of the car, carefully avoiding the bird poop. She fumbled the key into the ignition and turned over the engine. Nothing happened. Trying it again, along with a fervent prayer again produced no results. Hoping that even with her limited knowledge of cars she could fix the problem telekinetically, she'd reached out to the engine in her mind's eye. That's when Phoenix decided to come out and play again, subsequently frying the engine. Slumping forward in the seat, Jean hit her head on the steering wheel repeatedly muttering:
"Why me, God, why me?"
That is, until she set off the horn, which due to the frazzled wiring set off the car alarm. The lights started flashing and that really annoying cross between a honk and a wail (Ever been in a mall parking lot and have one of those go off right next to you? Scary shit, let me tell you...) started blaring. A few of the younger mutants who were gathered outside waiting for a ride to the mall or wherever edged closer. Bobby cautiously ventured:
"Jean...you okay?"
All the answer he got in return was some distinctly unladylike cussing.
So, here was Jean, sitting at the kitchen island, utterly dejected. She'd missed more than half her classes, and she knew the Professor was going to be disappointed that she hadn't managed to keep a better rein on the Phoenix. The last thing she needed was someone being cheerful. However, as everyone is aware, today really isn't Jean's day and this is the precise moment that a still grinning Rogue breezed into the kitchen.
The Southern girl went to one of the cabinets and pulled down a glass and a bowl. She then walked over to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice container and walking back to the counter. Humming a bit as she debated mentally over what to eat, Rogue didn't notice the increasingly more disgusted looks Jean was shooting her way. The redhead was not to be deterred from being a bitch though, and if looks wouldn't break into Rogue's mood, she'd just have to find some way else to convey her displeasure...
"What are you so happy about?"
Rogue turned to look at Jean after a bit. It wasn't even really the words, which could possibly be taken fine in a different tone of voice. Jean's voice was angry, PMS-on-a-rampage angry. Her normally green eyes flickered with the hints of flame that signaled the presence of the Phoenix Force in her waking mind. Deciding that even though Jean was obviously going out of her way to pick a fight, it'd just irritate her more if Rogue stayed cheerful, she grinned at the older girl.
"Oh, Remy surprised me this morning. I swear he gets a kick out of sneaking up and scaring the hell out of me."
Jean rolled her eyes in disgust. Ever since those two had gotten together, they had been the pet couple of the mansion. It was ridiculous, the way that their little melodrama had played out. Sappy enough for a soap opera. Jean refused to consider the idea that she was also a little jealous of Rogue for finding a guy that so clearly doted on her. Scott could be sweet, but for the most part he was rather uptight.
As Jean was lost in her swirling thoughts, Rogue tried to dampen down the wave of anger/annoyance/disgust/envy that was flowing off the other girl. Rogue had been using Remy's powers in the training session this morning and a residue of empathy stayed with her. The vibes, though it sounds weird, would merely spread discontent through the rest of the mansion if anyone else got close enough to Jean. Most people, while not telepaths or empaths, can pick up on emotions being directed around them and Rogue thought it was really just better to cut Jean's broadcasting of her exasperation off right here and now. Unfortunately she forgot that she was working against an experienced telepath who was also carrying another telepathic entity in her mind. In other words, Jean noticed.
"What are you doing? Leave my thoughts alone!" Jean shrieked as she leapt off her stool and faced Rogue.
"Sorry, but you were broadcasting. Thought I'd just ease it a little bit, I've still got Remy's powers..." Rogue's explanation was cut off as Jean exploded again. (Don't we all wish she would?)
"You're constantly harping on US staying out of YOUR thoughts! YOU'RE nothing but a hypocrite! And I as sure as hell don't need YOU telling ME how to manage my own powers! Though I guess you WOULD know a little bit about them seeing as how you've STOLEN them before, huh?"
Rogue calmly regarded Jean, who was growing red-faced (in a shade to match her hair) and shaking in anger.
"Go calm down, Jean. We can talk later."
"Oh, so now you think you can tell me what to do? Well, you know what, just back the fuck off okay? Just leave me alone!" And with that final word, Jean stormed out of the kitchen in a huff.
Sighing and shaking her head, Rogue turned back to her orange juice when Bobby and Jubilee entered the room. Bobby went and got he and Jubes both sodas from the fridge and they perched on the stools by the island. Bobby was the first one to speak:
"Jean's being a bitch today."
Jubilee nodded vigorously while Rogue smirked in amusement then decided to add an amendment to that harsh (though rather true) statement.
"Yah never know, she could just be PMS-ing or something."
Bobby laughed then straightened on his stool with a rather confused look. Tentatively (he really didn't want to die today) he asked the two girls present:
"I didn't know girls actually made PMS excuses."
Jubilee laughed. "Of course we do, that's how we get away with more than half the shit we put men through. Right, Rogue?"
Rogue had started chuckling at Bobby's comment and again with what Jubilee said. She nodded vigorously and grinned at them both.
"Oh yeah, finely honed art. Seriously, mention your period and a guy will do almost anything, just so he doesn't have to talk about it."
Bobby's reaction to her remark sent both the girls into gales of laughter. The young teen had visibly cringed at the word 'period' and was still flinching. Just as Jubilee opened her mouth to make another statement about the tendency of men to shy away from that particular subject, Bobby decided that discretion was the better part of valor and beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen. Rogue and Jubilee looked at each other, sighed and said, "Men."
There you go. Like, dislike? Tell me please. This is continuing and does amazingly (at least for me) have a plot. Sorry about the slow start...ciao til next chapter!
Thanks serpentine for the beta reading! A few things that you'll probably figure out soon enough but I feel obliged to mention: Remy's living in the Mansion, Jean has the Phoenix Force in her head, and Rogue and Remy are dating...yep, threw this world into a tailspin, didn't I?
Disclaimer: Flamingo1 owns X-Men Evolution and other related characters. True False
If you picked A can I please have a dose of whatever narcotic is
currently floating in your bloodstream? In plainer words, I DON'T own
X-Men Evolution.
Random Quote: "Don't forget your RUBBER CHICKEN!!" Hey, I did say
random...
Rogue stepped out of the shower stall into the cooler air of the bathroom. Rivulets of water ran off her as she hurriedly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. While she had immensely enjoyed the warm shower after the grueling two hour Danger Room session, Rogue still hated being cold in that split second of bareness. It also tended to make her feel very unguarded. After all, her bare skin was one of the most dangerous things on the planet, and leaving it completely uncovered felt obscene, even when she was alone. In the shower it didn't really matter and she didn't think about it because she was warm, but the cold brought her skin into sharp relief. Deciding to leave that depressing train of thought at the station, she began drying her legs, reflecting on how she needed to tan more instead.
Finished with her body, Rogue moved the towel to her hair. Toweling her hair dry was easy, as she'd kept it rather short for a long time, since before she'd even joined the Brotherhood. Back before her powers had manifested and she had been saddled with a bunch of psyches in her head. Though they still tended to bother her at times of great stress or anger, Rogue had gained some victories over these wispy manifestations of everyone she'd ever touched. The major one being that she could now to some extent control the powers that she had absorbed permanently. While it was tiring, with practice she had become a very effective fighter in the Danger Room.
Once again firmly telling herself that she was getting off on depressing tangents, she finished with her hair, leaving it damp. Rogue had come to like the way it curled slightly if she didn't blow-dry it after a shower. Gathering her sweat soiled uniform, she threw it into the special hamper for such things that all the upstairs bathrooms had. The uniforms were made from a special lightweight Kevlar like material and had to be dry- cleaned. At least the Professor paid the Indonesian couple who ran the laundromat extra to stay quiet about what they cleaned on a regular basis. They had kids they were putting through college. That can get expensive.
Wrapping the towel more tightly around her, Rogue poked her head out the door of the bathroom to make sure no one was in the hall. Part of this was sheer modesty; part was still the ever-present fear that she would accidentally zap someone into a coma. Although she could sort of control the other psyches powers, she hadn't yet learned to manage her own by controlling if and when her skin absorbed people. Reminding herself sharply that this was the third time she'd started down a self pitying line of thought, Rogue stopped at the door to her room with her hand on the doorknob. (Rogue and Kitty had stopped sharing rooms the day Rogue turned eighteen. Though the girls were still good friends, they'd mutually decided on each having her own space. Everyone else had wholeheartedly agreed. Must've been the catfights. Oops, was that my outloud voice? Hey, get back to the story, what are you still doing here listening to me!?)
Entering the room, she went straight to the Japanese foldable silk dressing screen that stood in a small circle around her closet. The screen was pale lavender with hand painted flowers in darker purple. Logan had got it from a lady he knew in Japan, he'd given it to Rogue for Christmas the year before last. She'd marveled at the beauty of it and had kept it carefully wrapped in plastic in the closet for the longest time. Then one day Logan had walked in and asked where it was. He said it was an heirloom from the lady's family and was meant to be used, not kept out of sight. Since then, Rogue had never taken it down; in fact it had subtly influenced the design of the room. Instead of the dark and heavy black that most things in the room had been, now there were more (and lighter) greens, blues, and purples. She even let Jubilee paint some Chinese symbols for love and luck in yellow on one of the walls.
Realizing that she'd been standing there for the longest time, Rogue started digging through her closet for something to wear. As her decorating tastes had changed, so had her choice of clothing. She still had to strike the delicate balance between the summer heat and safety, but most of the things in her closet were not black anymore. In fact, she had proved to have almost bizarre color ideas, but they always seemed to work in her outfits. This particular one started with white leggings, over which Rogue put a blue denim skirt that came to her knees. Her top was white cotton, a spaghetti string tank, with a long sleeved light blue gauze shirt over it. The one thing in the entire ensemble that was not white or light blue was an emerald green scarf that she'd wrapped through the loops in her skirt like a belt.
Rogue actually had two full-length mirrors, one inside her dressing screen and one for the rest of the room. Kurt teased her about being vain but the truth was that she didn't want to step out from behind her screen if she hadn't first checked her appearance. Figuring it was a leftover thing from being a teenager, she just sort of succumbed to the inevitable and checked her appearance twice every morning. She stepped out from behind the screen, heading for the table where the other mirror stood by and her makeup and hair supplies were. Turning away from the table before she put on any makeup and facing the full-length mirror that stood slightly to her right, Rogue checked her appearance approvingly until a small motion in the background of the reflection caught her attention.
Remy LeBeau lounged on the bed behind her, looking quite pleased with himself that she hadn't noticed him there. She whirled on her grinning boyfriend with a look that was half amusement, half annoyance:
"How in God's name did you get in here without me noticing?"
"Chere, I came in before you did." As he said this, Remy made a small gesture at the window, which Rogue now realized stood open to the mid- morning air. A slight breeze stirred the gauzy curtains, though it was probably Storm created, as this summer day had been quite calm so far. Snorting softly to herself, she turned her back on him and picked up a hairbrush to do her hair. Keeping an eye on the mirror gave her advance warning when he walked up behind her and dropped his head on her covered shoulder. Rogue merely grinned at him in the mirror, waiting for him to say something.
He apparently realized, or just felt the need to say something, or I needed to get this conversation going:
"Glad to see Wolvie didn' kill y'."
Rogue looked at him out of the corner of her eye, amazed at this man's ability to split her feelings so well. Here and now, she was half exasperated and half wanting to roll on the floor laughing. "Yah know if you keep callin' him that, he's gonna impale you someday..."
"And that would make moi chere very sad, oui?" Remy tried the patented guy puppy dog look. It actually worked on Rogue if she was in the right mood (ooh, that didn't sound right...), but who ever really knew?
"Hmm...Cajun shishkebobs..." Pretending to actually think about it, she unconsciously licked her lips. "Spicy."
Remy sighed dramatically and stepped back from Rogue, though it was extremely difficult after what she'd just done...damn, he hated having to be a gentleman. Pasting a mock-hurt look on his face, he drawled: "Here I am, expectin' sympathy from chere..."
"Hey, I was the one stuck in the Danger Room this morning! Don't even start telling me 'bout how much sympa-"
Rogue's indignant outburst was cut off with a yelp when Remy grabbed her around the waist into a tight hug, also pinning her arms to her sides. Her first instinct was to tense with the reaction of being restrained, but she quickly relaxed into his embrace and smiled up at him. Despite the summer weather, he still wore his trenchcoat and it wrapped around Rogue seemingly of its own accord. Feeling rather safe right then, she kept the mood light while managing to answer Remy's earlier question truthfully.
"All right, I would be sad if Logan gutted yah, so even though I know it's incredibly hard for yah to do, try not to piss him off?"
Remy grinned right back at her, then whispered in her ear. "Cherie's wish is my command..."
She shivered slightly, that tone of his voice always managed to do that to her, no matter what. Twisting a little bit, she hugged him, then rather reluctantly pulled loose from his arms (and the coat!).
"I'm gonna go to the kitchen and get somethin' to eat. See you around?" Rogue knew exactly why Remy was hanging out on the roof and in her room. He was supposed to have been in an even earlier Danger Room session than her, and they'd stayed out late last night. Therefore, the Cajun was on the run from the Canadian. You'd think they just would've gotten along (being of semi common ancestry-I think) but nooo. Remy had this need to thwart authority especially in the form of small hairy guys with sharp knives in their hands. Logan had a distrust of Remy from the beginning, intensified when Rogue and Remy began dating. Through all this though, the two still managed to have amicable Saturday night poker games. Must be the booze.
He smiled, nodded, and stepped back towards the window. Rogue turned around to go out her door when she felt Remy slap her ass. Ready to smack him, she jumped back around to where he'd been only seconds before, but saw only the open window, fluttering curtains and a two of hearts lying on the windowsill. Able to do nothing but laugh and shake her head, she plucked the card off the sill and slipped it into her back pocket. Still chuckling, she turned and left the room.
Jean Grey had been having a perfectly wonderful day in Hell. She'd woken up late this morning after pushing her snooze button at least five times. Actually the exact count wasn't known, because Jean had no memory of those drowsy minutes. Chalk it up to the wonderful Phoenix Force that had taken up housekeeping in her body and chose to take control every once in a while. That was her, twenty-year-old college student with one of the world's most powerful entities stuck in her head. What a life.
Back to the saga of mayhem that was this Tuesday morning. Jean had to fight a rather disgruntled Jubilee for the shower. Knowing it was unfair, but not really caring, because she didn't want to be late for her classes, Jean tapped into the younger girl's mind and implanted the suggestion of breakfast before a shower. Jubes had had one dazed minute before she apologized to Jean and hurried off towards the dining room. Jean had felt rather self-satisfied until she realized that she wasn't supposed to use her telepathy in an ends justify the means situation. What disturbed the red headed girl even more was that she really didn't seem to care at the moment. Deciding at the time to pursue the thought later, Jean had gone ahead and gotten in the shower.
Then the fun had really begun. In the Mansion, water was heated by solar power. Now, this meant that while most of the kids could get a shower in without the water going cold, the last few people in the end of the line would get icy spots. Normally Bobby volunteered to take those, the cold water didn't bother him at all, but today he'd had an early Danger Room session. Which, if you want to wrap this up quickly, meant that Jean was standing under a spurt of water that went from warm to cold approximately every three minutes.
Muttering curses under her breath, but still unwilling to try and use Phoenix to warm up the water, Jean merely tried to hurry through her shower routine. This caused her to get soap in her eyes at least twice. She hurried out of the shower, swiping her reddened tearful eyes with a towel. Halfway down the hall to her room, Jean distinctly remembered not putting conditioner in her hair. Deciding to say screw it, cause she was already late enough, Jean began rifling through her closet for something suitable to wear.
Pulling out and throwing on the first things she saw (a pair of caramel- toned slacks and a white cotton scoop neck tank top) she rushed to her mirror to fix her hair. Wanting it up off her neck, she put it into a simple but effective ponytail, applied her makeup, and rushed out the door of her room, down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Searching through the cupboards, Jean saw a wrapper for a package of blueberry bagels. These were her favorite, and grinning happily, she pulled the last one from the bag. She abruptly stopped smiling when she noticed the blue-green mold growing all over the breakfast food... "Damn it..."
After eating a simple cup of yogurt (spilling some on her new purse), Jean hustled out to her car. She noticed with an uplifting feeling that the pretty silver Liberty was still clean from when she'd washed it yesterday. Well, clean except for the large white streak of bird refuse marking the top of the driver's side door. Sighing she told herself that there wasn't anything she could do about it now, and sitting here worrying only made her later.
Jean opened the door of the car, carefully avoiding the bird poop. She fumbled the key into the ignition and turned over the engine. Nothing happened. Trying it again, along with a fervent prayer again produced no results. Hoping that even with her limited knowledge of cars she could fix the problem telekinetically, she'd reached out to the engine in her mind's eye. That's when Phoenix decided to come out and play again, subsequently frying the engine. Slumping forward in the seat, Jean hit her head on the steering wheel repeatedly muttering:
"Why me, God, why me?"
That is, until she set off the horn, which due to the frazzled wiring set off the car alarm. The lights started flashing and that really annoying cross between a honk and a wail (Ever been in a mall parking lot and have one of those go off right next to you? Scary shit, let me tell you...) started blaring. A few of the younger mutants who were gathered outside waiting for a ride to the mall or wherever edged closer. Bobby cautiously ventured:
"Jean...you okay?"
All the answer he got in return was some distinctly unladylike cussing.
So, here was Jean, sitting at the kitchen island, utterly dejected. She'd missed more than half her classes, and she knew the Professor was going to be disappointed that she hadn't managed to keep a better rein on the Phoenix. The last thing she needed was someone being cheerful. However, as everyone is aware, today really isn't Jean's day and this is the precise moment that a still grinning Rogue breezed into the kitchen.
The Southern girl went to one of the cabinets and pulled down a glass and a bowl. She then walked over to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice container and walking back to the counter. Humming a bit as she debated mentally over what to eat, Rogue didn't notice the increasingly more disgusted looks Jean was shooting her way. The redhead was not to be deterred from being a bitch though, and if looks wouldn't break into Rogue's mood, she'd just have to find some way else to convey her displeasure...
"What are you so happy about?"
Rogue turned to look at Jean after a bit. It wasn't even really the words, which could possibly be taken fine in a different tone of voice. Jean's voice was angry, PMS-on-a-rampage angry. Her normally green eyes flickered with the hints of flame that signaled the presence of the Phoenix Force in her waking mind. Deciding that even though Jean was obviously going out of her way to pick a fight, it'd just irritate her more if Rogue stayed cheerful, she grinned at the older girl.
"Oh, Remy surprised me this morning. I swear he gets a kick out of sneaking up and scaring the hell out of me."
Jean rolled her eyes in disgust. Ever since those two had gotten together, they had been the pet couple of the mansion. It was ridiculous, the way that their little melodrama had played out. Sappy enough for a soap opera. Jean refused to consider the idea that she was also a little jealous of Rogue for finding a guy that so clearly doted on her. Scott could be sweet, but for the most part he was rather uptight.
As Jean was lost in her swirling thoughts, Rogue tried to dampen down the wave of anger/annoyance/disgust/envy that was flowing off the other girl. Rogue had been using Remy's powers in the training session this morning and a residue of empathy stayed with her. The vibes, though it sounds weird, would merely spread discontent through the rest of the mansion if anyone else got close enough to Jean. Most people, while not telepaths or empaths, can pick up on emotions being directed around them and Rogue thought it was really just better to cut Jean's broadcasting of her exasperation off right here and now. Unfortunately she forgot that she was working against an experienced telepath who was also carrying another telepathic entity in her mind. In other words, Jean noticed.
"What are you doing? Leave my thoughts alone!" Jean shrieked as she leapt off her stool and faced Rogue.
"Sorry, but you were broadcasting. Thought I'd just ease it a little bit, I've still got Remy's powers..." Rogue's explanation was cut off as Jean exploded again. (Don't we all wish she would?)
"You're constantly harping on US staying out of YOUR thoughts! YOU'RE nothing but a hypocrite! And I as sure as hell don't need YOU telling ME how to manage my own powers! Though I guess you WOULD know a little bit about them seeing as how you've STOLEN them before, huh?"
Rogue calmly regarded Jean, who was growing red-faced (in a shade to match her hair) and shaking in anger.
"Go calm down, Jean. We can talk later."
"Oh, so now you think you can tell me what to do? Well, you know what, just back the fuck off okay? Just leave me alone!" And with that final word, Jean stormed out of the kitchen in a huff.
Sighing and shaking her head, Rogue turned back to her orange juice when Bobby and Jubilee entered the room. Bobby went and got he and Jubes both sodas from the fridge and they perched on the stools by the island. Bobby was the first one to speak:
"Jean's being a bitch today."
Jubilee nodded vigorously while Rogue smirked in amusement then decided to add an amendment to that harsh (though rather true) statement.
"Yah never know, she could just be PMS-ing or something."
Bobby laughed then straightened on his stool with a rather confused look. Tentatively (he really didn't want to die today) he asked the two girls present:
"I didn't know girls actually made PMS excuses."
Jubilee laughed. "Of course we do, that's how we get away with more than half the shit we put men through. Right, Rogue?"
Rogue had started chuckling at Bobby's comment and again with what Jubilee said. She nodded vigorously and grinned at them both.
"Oh yeah, finely honed art. Seriously, mention your period and a guy will do almost anything, just so he doesn't have to talk about it."
Bobby's reaction to her remark sent both the girls into gales of laughter. The young teen had visibly cringed at the word 'period' and was still flinching. Just as Jubilee opened her mouth to make another statement about the tendency of men to shy away from that particular subject, Bobby decided that discretion was the better part of valor and beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen. Rogue and Jubilee looked at each other, sighed and said, "Men."
There you go. Like, dislike? Tell me please. This is continuing and does amazingly (at least for me) have a plot. Sorry about the slow start...ciao til next chapter!