Ma Soleil
Chapter Four: Codependency and Waitresses Named Madge
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fanfiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask. X-Cell is my own invention, and it includes the members of the former Generation X (e.g. Husk, M, Skin, Jubilee, Chamber, Leech, and Artie Maddocks, now known as Vision) and is headed by Jubilation Lee and X-Man.
As always, the lifeblood of the fanfiction author is reviews. I will respect constructive criticism, but flames are sincerely unappreciated. My e-mail address is seraph_taurus@thekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
XXX
Rogue pushed aside the gym door, paced inside, studied her step-brother swinging on the parallels. His muscles cried out from beneath his deep indigo fur as he pulled his legs perpendicular to the higher bar. "Kurt?"
"Ja, Rogue?" he brought his left leg over to his front while spreading his right back.
"Why do yah think Sol left, sugah? Ah mean, theah's nothin' heah foah her ta be afraid of. Weah her family, lahke ya said. So why'd she run? Ah undahstand that she mahght not want tah see M an' Creed togethah, but she ain't nevah been in love with him!"
"You're asking the wrong man," he blew his hair out of his eyes and swung himself up, so that his legs were pointing toward the ceiling and he was balancing precariously on a single rod.
"But yoah so close ta her. Ah mean, even Ah feel, ya know, intimidated bah that quiet thing she does sometahmes."
"Our Soleil is going through a few life changes. She has given up the name Creed, as she gave up the name Essex. She is independent now. She has no one to call her own, and she is flying to this extreme so quickly that she feels she must abandon everything that has given her care in the past."
"But she's already so feisty, so self-reliahnt."
"I'm afraid you're wrong about that," a grim smile touched the German-born mutant's lips. "You see, for her entire life, Rebecca has had some form of security, sometimes in the form of a present guardian, sometimes in the form of a name everyone has learned to fear."
"Ah get it. First, she was Sinistah's adopted daughtah, an' he protected her lahke she was family, an' latah it was bein' married ta Sabahtooth."
"Ja." He let go of the bars, but just before his face smacked into the ground, his tail looped around one and caught him. Falling into a crouch, he grabbed a bottle of water on the floor and poured it into his wide-open mouth.
"Ah wanna see her. Yah know where she mahght be stayin'?"
"Ja, but I think Logan went, already."
"Huh?"
"Logan. Short, hairy, bad temper?"
"Ah see. Yoah twin."
"Tut, tut, liebshen. Don't mock your best sources."
"Ah'm not mockin'. So Logan went out tah make peace?"
"Ja. But if you're hungry, I could whip you up a batch of German pancakes."
"That'd be nahce."
"I'll be upstairs in twenty. Got to wash off."
"All rahght. Meet ya in the kitchen, sugah."
XXX
Logan killed his Hog's engine as they arrived in the parking lot at Harry's. Rebecca slipped off smoothly, her hand brushing against Logan's back as she dismounted. Removing the key, he tucked it in his pocket, straightened, and offered her his arm. "Shall we, darlin'?"
"Sure. And I'll be thanking you not to call me that."
"How come?"
"Because I usually bust Vic's balls for that, and you, sir, are no exception."
"Fine by me, darlin'." He grinned rakishly and held the door open for her. They slid into a nauseatingly 50s retro linoleum corner-booth and waited silently for the plump, middle-aged waitress to stump over and hand them greasy menus. "Get me a beer, Madge." Logan demanded instantly, lighting up a fat stogie.
"And fer the lady?"
"Mountain Dew."
Logan nearly choked on his cigar. "Vic know yer such an irresponsible drinker?"
"Of course he does. Why the hell do you think he never asked me out on a date and married me in a courthouse?"
"Really? Vic never asked ya out on a date?"
"Never. Whenever we had any. . .social engagements, they were either formal or he'd just drag me out of bed, throw some clothes on me, and tell me we were going out to eat."
"Well, I guess I never expected him ta be romancin' a girl. . ."
"Oh, it wasn't that."
"What was it?"
"It was just that I never let him smoke those disgusting cigars." She reached out and put the roll of wine-soaked tobacco out between her thumb and forefinger. "They're very bad for my health."
"Uh-huh."
"Don't you DARE give me that kicked puppy look, either. Only Natty can pull that one off effectively on me."
"Natty?! As in Essex?"
"Yes, as in Essex. 'Mr. Sinister,' to you, I suppose. Don't look so shocked. He's never done it to you, so how CAN you judge? Besides, he's had a good hundred years or so to get really good at it."
"Fer all you know, I could be older'n him."
"That's true, isn't it? How odd. Thank you," she pasted on a small, yet brilliantly fake smile as Madge returned with drinks.
"Are ya ready, or should I come back around?" she poised her pen over her clipboarded paper.
"I'll have the 24-ounce steak, medium rare." Rebecca flicked her menu and handed it back to Madge.
"I'll have the same, darlin', 'cept very rare."
"Is that all?"
"Actually, I was kind of hoping you could bring around some apple pie later on, for dessert."
"Did ya want it à la mode?"
"I'd like my ice cream on the side. Logan?"
"I'll have it the same way."
"All right. That it?"
"Make sure this darling fellow doesn't see an empty bottle, hmm?"
"All right."
"Thanks, Madge." Logan smirked at Rebecca as the waitress retreated. "Ya know, ya shouldn't be orderin' stuff fer me."
"But that's what you like, isn't it? Apple pie with ice cream on the side after eating something that mooed, and endless beer."
"Yeah. I'm guessin' Vic likes it pretty much the same?"
"Oh, no!"
"Then how d'ya know all this?"
"I spent far too much time with Jubilee back when I used to regularly my brother in the Berkshires, and for some reason, all her 'Wolvie' stories just. . .stuck."
"Hmm. Thanks, but I can order fer myself, darlin'."
"Then, in the future, you will." She caught the glint in his eye, and pursed her lips. "That does NOT mean there WILL be a future, just so you know that I am NOT hitting on you."
He held up both hands, palm up, chuckling quietly. "I give up, darlin'. I wasn't gonna take it any way ya don't want me to."
"Smart boy," she sipped her soda, then drew back from the straw with a slightly demented fire blazing behind her brilliant ice-blue eyes. "Is this place mutant-friendly?"
"What're ya gonna do?"
"Just a quiet little display that might turn a few heads."
"Well, shield it telepathically so's no one else can see it."
"Oh, all right. Back in the day, Vic would rather claw his way out of a bar than pretend that we were anything less than mutants."
"Yeah, but I ain't Vic, an' that was on the road. Twenty years ago!"
"No, it was only fifteen." She stated pertly, using her telekinesis to lift little bubbles of soda from her glass. "Want some?"
"No thanks."
"Oh, all right." She pouted. "You're no fun at all."
"I really hope ya don't mean that."
"And why is that? Because you'd be obligated to show me a good time in defense of your good partying name?"
"Exactly."
"Fantastic. Just what I wanted to hear."
"Was worried about that."
"What's to be worried about? You're going to be doing all the leading tonight."
"Uh huh."
"And you had better not take me to some dive merely to display your martial prowess in a bar brawl. Because in these stilettos, I could really put someone's eye out."
"Guess again."
"Hmmm. . .we're going to some skanky dancing club where you can grind about on my leg."
"Strike two, darlin'. Keep 'em comin'." Madge hustled over and dumped a bucket of pickles on the table. Logan pulled two out with the tongs and offered one to Rebecca.
"We're going to go home, and you're going to program the Danger Room for us to kick my ex-husband's tail, just like old times."
"Strike three. Tell ya what, I'm a nice guy. I'll tell ya what it is."
"Oookaaay."
"We're gonna stick around here."
"Oh, dear. Please tell me you're yanking me."
He glared at her in a way that was known to make even the bravest of men run screaming in soprano for their mothers. She returned a sultry eye-bat. "One, I hope there ain't nothing TO yank, and two, I'm not, even if there was. We're gonna stick around here fer a while, but that don't mean we're spendin' the entire evenin'. The night is young."
"I like the way you think."
"Good. An' yer gonna hafta drink somethin' a little heavier if ya want ta get ta phase two."
"Madge! Scotch! Neat! Twist!"
XXX
Chapter Four: Codependency and Waitresses Named Madge
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fanfiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask. X-Cell is my own invention, and it includes the members of the former Generation X (e.g. Husk, M, Skin, Jubilee, Chamber, Leech, and Artie Maddocks, now known as Vision) and is headed by Jubilation Lee and X-Man.
As always, the lifeblood of the fanfiction author is reviews. I will respect constructive criticism, but flames are sincerely unappreciated. My e-mail address is seraph_taurus@thekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
XXX
Rogue pushed aside the gym door, paced inside, studied her step-brother swinging on the parallels. His muscles cried out from beneath his deep indigo fur as he pulled his legs perpendicular to the higher bar. "Kurt?"
"Ja, Rogue?" he brought his left leg over to his front while spreading his right back.
"Why do yah think Sol left, sugah? Ah mean, theah's nothin' heah foah her ta be afraid of. Weah her family, lahke ya said. So why'd she run? Ah undahstand that she mahght not want tah see M an' Creed togethah, but she ain't nevah been in love with him!"
"You're asking the wrong man," he blew his hair out of his eyes and swung himself up, so that his legs were pointing toward the ceiling and he was balancing precariously on a single rod.
"But yoah so close ta her. Ah mean, even Ah feel, ya know, intimidated bah that quiet thing she does sometahmes."
"Our Soleil is going through a few life changes. She has given up the name Creed, as she gave up the name Essex. She is independent now. She has no one to call her own, and she is flying to this extreme so quickly that she feels she must abandon everything that has given her care in the past."
"But she's already so feisty, so self-reliahnt."
"I'm afraid you're wrong about that," a grim smile touched the German-born mutant's lips. "You see, for her entire life, Rebecca has had some form of security, sometimes in the form of a present guardian, sometimes in the form of a name everyone has learned to fear."
"Ah get it. First, she was Sinistah's adopted daughtah, an' he protected her lahke she was family, an' latah it was bein' married ta Sabahtooth."
"Ja." He let go of the bars, but just before his face smacked into the ground, his tail looped around one and caught him. Falling into a crouch, he grabbed a bottle of water on the floor and poured it into his wide-open mouth.
"Ah wanna see her. Yah know where she mahght be stayin'?"
"Ja, but I think Logan went, already."
"Huh?"
"Logan. Short, hairy, bad temper?"
"Ah see. Yoah twin."
"Tut, tut, liebshen. Don't mock your best sources."
"Ah'm not mockin'. So Logan went out tah make peace?"
"Ja. But if you're hungry, I could whip you up a batch of German pancakes."
"That'd be nahce."
"I'll be upstairs in twenty. Got to wash off."
"All rahght. Meet ya in the kitchen, sugah."
XXX
Logan killed his Hog's engine as they arrived in the parking lot at Harry's. Rebecca slipped off smoothly, her hand brushing against Logan's back as she dismounted. Removing the key, he tucked it in his pocket, straightened, and offered her his arm. "Shall we, darlin'?"
"Sure. And I'll be thanking you not to call me that."
"How come?"
"Because I usually bust Vic's balls for that, and you, sir, are no exception."
"Fine by me, darlin'." He grinned rakishly and held the door open for her. They slid into a nauseatingly 50s retro linoleum corner-booth and waited silently for the plump, middle-aged waitress to stump over and hand them greasy menus. "Get me a beer, Madge." Logan demanded instantly, lighting up a fat stogie.
"And fer the lady?"
"Mountain Dew."
Logan nearly choked on his cigar. "Vic know yer such an irresponsible drinker?"
"Of course he does. Why the hell do you think he never asked me out on a date and married me in a courthouse?"
"Really? Vic never asked ya out on a date?"
"Never. Whenever we had any. . .social engagements, they were either formal or he'd just drag me out of bed, throw some clothes on me, and tell me we were going out to eat."
"Well, I guess I never expected him ta be romancin' a girl. . ."
"Oh, it wasn't that."
"What was it?"
"It was just that I never let him smoke those disgusting cigars." She reached out and put the roll of wine-soaked tobacco out between her thumb and forefinger. "They're very bad for my health."
"Uh-huh."
"Don't you DARE give me that kicked puppy look, either. Only Natty can pull that one off effectively on me."
"Natty?! As in Essex?"
"Yes, as in Essex. 'Mr. Sinister,' to you, I suppose. Don't look so shocked. He's never done it to you, so how CAN you judge? Besides, he's had a good hundred years or so to get really good at it."
"Fer all you know, I could be older'n him."
"That's true, isn't it? How odd. Thank you," she pasted on a small, yet brilliantly fake smile as Madge returned with drinks.
"Are ya ready, or should I come back around?" she poised her pen over her clipboarded paper.
"I'll have the 24-ounce steak, medium rare." Rebecca flicked her menu and handed it back to Madge.
"I'll have the same, darlin', 'cept very rare."
"Is that all?"
"Actually, I was kind of hoping you could bring around some apple pie later on, for dessert."
"Did ya want it à la mode?"
"I'd like my ice cream on the side. Logan?"
"I'll have it the same way."
"All right. That it?"
"Make sure this darling fellow doesn't see an empty bottle, hmm?"
"All right."
"Thanks, Madge." Logan smirked at Rebecca as the waitress retreated. "Ya know, ya shouldn't be orderin' stuff fer me."
"But that's what you like, isn't it? Apple pie with ice cream on the side after eating something that mooed, and endless beer."
"Yeah. I'm guessin' Vic likes it pretty much the same?"
"Oh, no!"
"Then how d'ya know all this?"
"I spent far too much time with Jubilee back when I used to regularly my brother in the Berkshires, and for some reason, all her 'Wolvie' stories just. . .stuck."
"Hmm. Thanks, but I can order fer myself, darlin'."
"Then, in the future, you will." She caught the glint in his eye, and pursed her lips. "That does NOT mean there WILL be a future, just so you know that I am NOT hitting on you."
He held up both hands, palm up, chuckling quietly. "I give up, darlin'. I wasn't gonna take it any way ya don't want me to."
"Smart boy," she sipped her soda, then drew back from the straw with a slightly demented fire blazing behind her brilliant ice-blue eyes. "Is this place mutant-friendly?"
"What're ya gonna do?"
"Just a quiet little display that might turn a few heads."
"Well, shield it telepathically so's no one else can see it."
"Oh, all right. Back in the day, Vic would rather claw his way out of a bar than pretend that we were anything less than mutants."
"Yeah, but I ain't Vic, an' that was on the road. Twenty years ago!"
"No, it was only fifteen." She stated pertly, using her telekinesis to lift little bubbles of soda from her glass. "Want some?"
"No thanks."
"Oh, all right." She pouted. "You're no fun at all."
"I really hope ya don't mean that."
"And why is that? Because you'd be obligated to show me a good time in defense of your good partying name?"
"Exactly."
"Fantastic. Just what I wanted to hear."
"Was worried about that."
"What's to be worried about? You're going to be doing all the leading tonight."
"Uh huh."
"And you had better not take me to some dive merely to display your martial prowess in a bar brawl. Because in these stilettos, I could really put someone's eye out."
"Guess again."
"Hmmm. . .we're going to some skanky dancing club where you can grind about on my leg."
"Strike two, darlin'. Keep 'em comin'." Madge hustled over and dumped a bucket of pickles on the table. Logan pulled two out with the tongs and offered one to Rebecca.
"We're going to go home, and you're going to program the Danger Room for us to kick my ex-husband's tail, just like old times."
"Strike three. Tell ya what, I'm a nice guy. I'll tell ya what it is."
"Oookaaay."
"We're gonna stick around here."
"Oh, dear. Please tell me you're yanking me."
He glared at her in a way that was known to make even the bravest of men run screaming in soprano for their mothers. She returned a sultry eye-bat. "One, I hope there ain't nothing TO yank, and two, I'm not, even if there was. We're gonna stick around here fer a while, but that don't mean we're spendin' the entire evenin'. The night is young."
"I like the way you think."
"Good. An' yer gonna hafta drink somethin' a little heavier if ya want ta get ta phase two."
"Madge! Scotch! Neat! Twist!"
XXX