NOTE: this is infuriating, i have to retype all of the chapters all over
again, and i'm not even sure it's gonna work! damn you
fanfiction.net....that being said, here's the next chapter. this chapter is
the main reason it took me so long to update. But i had so much fun writing
it! Please please, i'm beggin for input. What worked, what didn't? review
review! okay ,enjoy!
Rogue glanced at herself in the floor-length mirror that had just recently been put on the back of the door in her room. I can't believe I am doing this, Rogue thought disgustedly for a brief second, as she slid one of Kitty's scoop neck peasant shirts off of a hanger. This was a definite departure from her old Goth attire, Rogue thought wincing as she slid onthe shirt. The gothic makeup had been far easier to give up than her chronic penchant for dark, autumn colors that covered up as much as skin as possible. Being her, one couldn't be too careful. Rogue bit her lip as she glanced at the peach colored top, which brought out her natural complexion. After staring at the denim skirt which also hung on Kitty's side of the closet and her own beloved pair of well worn snug black jeans, habit threatened to win out.
Jean would never wear something like this, Rogue mused staring at the tear above the left pant leg on her jeans. The elegant redhead probably never had to agonize about how to look good for Scott, she probably never even thought about it. How annoying, Rogue thought sighing. After a few minutes of just sitting, Rogue lost patience and took out a notepad from her desk. " I really can't believe I'm doing this. Pro and con lists for clothes....what's next?" Rogue muttered, plucking a pen from her pocket and began the list.
Pros/Cons for Denim Skirt
Pro: Shows my legs.......nevermind, scratch that. As if Scott would even look.
Con: It's from Kitty's closet. Too chipper for my image.
Pro: Maybe it would shock Scott enough to pay attention to me.
Con: Feel totally lame in it. Bobby and Evan would probably die laughing. Not to mention what Frenchy would have to say about it.
Rogue stopped writing, and blushed hotly as she stared at that last sentence. What did she care what that upstart Cajun had to say about what she wore? "The guy wears a brown trench coat and sunglasses inside for heavens sake," Rogue tried to scoff, even though she had to admit that it suited his lean, muscular build. I don't care what he thinks, Rogue thought hotly, and grabbed the skirt decidedly.
After sliding it on and zipping it up, she closed the closet and threw in the hangers , hoping it would be awhile before Kitty noticed the clothes missing. It wasn't because she was worried that her cheerful roomate would be upset about having her clothes borrowed. In fact, Kitty was often the one encouraging her to wear new styles. But if Kitty found out, she'd have to admit that she was stooping low enough to wear a skirt to impress a guy.
" It's okay, I'll just take it off as soon as this stupid decorating thing is over," Rogue murmured, letting her auburn hair fall freely around her shoulders, and stepping cautiously out into the hallway. please, let me not run into....HIM, rogue prayed and walked stealthily to the recreation room, swallowing nervously.
She paused outside the door, tugging her gloves higher on her arms. Here goes nothing, Rogue thought and came in with a tentative smile on her face. Scott was already there, ripping open bags of confetti, and mixing what looked to be paper mache. Oh great, arts and crafts, Rogue thought groaning. After clearing her throat lightly, Scott turned around and raised his eyebrows.
"Rogue! You-," Scott broke off, his face creased, mouth tensing as if about to say something.
" What is it?" Rogue asked casually, but she could feel the makings of a grin start at her mouth.
"that skirt, it-," Scott began, his hands knitted together almost comically. Rogue waited patiently for his response. "Isn't that Kitty's?" Scott finished, sounding confused.
Rogue's grin died, turning quickly into a barely repressed scowl. "Yes, I um, ran out of clothes. Laundry day you know," Rogue said quickly, but clenched her teeth with frustration. How dense could Scott possibly be?
"Something wrong, Rogue?" Scott asked.
"I'm fine Scott," Rogue sighed, and found she couldn't even sit down because of how tight the skirt was. Oh well, I'll have to think of something else, Rogue thought wryly, glancing over at Scott who was still studiously mixing the mache. "So, uh, what can I do to help?"
" I gotta be honest, Scott. When you said decorating, I thought you meant, like, streamers and stuff," Rogue admitted, rolling up her sleeves.
Scott smiled wryly. "I thought so too. It was only till Jean locked me in here with these huge panel things that I realized it's gonna be a lot harder. Thanks again for helping, Rogue."
Rogue smiled noncomittally. "It's not big deal," Rogue replied, and turned determinedly back to the newspaper, shredding it. They worked in silence for twenty minutes straight, with Rogue trying to think of possible conversation topics while cursing the sticky mixture that was all over her hands and shirt. Kitty was going to kill her.
What are we supposed to talk about anyway? Rogue thought, with a covert look at Scott. Jean? The magical uses for newspaper? How to peel dried glue off your skin? All surefire ways to win his heart, Rogue thought, laughing silently at the ridiculousness of her situation. Here she was, in a borrowed skirt, unable to sit, and totally tongue-tied in front of her crush with her hands covered in paper mache. Wonderful.
After half an hour, Rogue was still wrestling with the same stupid paper mache model of a midieval man. It didn't even resemble an animal, let alone a man! "This had better be worth it, because this is hell," Rogue grumbled, fighting the urge to quit and leave Scott to deal. Crush or no crush, decorating was torture.
"No kidding," Scott agreed grimly. "There's no way we can make two hundred of these paper mache models by the Carnival date." Rogue blanched. Two hundred? "My hands are already cramping. I'm gonna go talk to jean," scott announced, and left before Rogue could protest.
After a few minutes, Scott came in beaming. Rogue stretched her tired arms and glanced up expectantly. "Well, is Jean giving us another job?" Rogue asked hopefully. Scott looked uncomfortable.
"Um, well sort of. She gave ~ me~ a new job," Scott said slowly. "I'm supposed to be printing tickets."
"So I'm supposed to do all of these myself!" Rogue said incredulously.
" No, no, of course not. I got you a replacement volunteer," Scott amended quickly. "I'm really sorry Rogue. But decorating isn't really my strong point, and you said you liked it right?" Scott said apologetically.
Rogue crossed her arms, cursing herself for telling the lie in the first place. So much for impressing Scott with her witty conversational skills and snazzy new outfit. She was really batting zero. And now she was going to have to finish everything with the help of a, most likely, incompetent helper. Probably Kurt, or worse, Bobby.
"You aren't mad, are you Rogue?" Scott asked seriously. Rogue shook her head.
"No, it's okay, really Scott. Ah'm fine," Rogue assured him.
"Good okay, I gotta run. Jean's calling," Scott called, and with one last apologetic look in her direction, ran out the door.
" Man, that boy is so whipped," Rogue muttered , turning back to her work. Her neck tensed as she sensed someone watching her from the doorway. Remy! "What are you doing here?" Rogue said scowling, as she dipped her paintbrush in the mixture. Just figured that he was the replacement.....
"Ah, cheerful as always," Rogue teased, walking into the rec room, and propped himself up on a stool, his long legs extended lazily. Rogue watched him, wondering why she felt so unsettled around him. Everything he does, he's so confident and perfect, Rogue thought irritated that he looked flawless as usual, when she was covered in glue. She felt his eyes scan her figure quietly, and she crossed her arms to face him.
"Chere, you-," Remy began, but Rogue cut him off with an upraised hand.
" Oh stop, yes I know I borrowed it from Kitty, is that a big problem?" Rogue asked hotly, throwing up her hands. Irritatingly enough, Remy shook his head and laughed in his husky relaxed way. Rogue fumed. First Scott had totally ignored her new look, and now Remy was going to make fun of her. It was too much.
"The skirt, it suits you, chere. Shows off your nice legs," Remy observed, and the look in his eyes were downright devilish. Rogue felt a heat wave start at her neck and continue upwards as she gazed down at her bare legs.
"If you're teasing me," Rogue spluttered threateningly.
"I'm very serious chere. You look good," Remy said quietly, and his voice was a gentle caress. Rogue turned away.
" Well, Scott didn't notice anyway," Rogue muttered to cover her embarassment.
" Then he's blind," Remy said bluntly. Okay, calm down Rogue, she told herself, feeling a strange flutter of emotions.
" So you gonna help or just stand around, Cajun?" Rogue demanded, clearing her throat, trying to stifle the tiny smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. Remy cocked an eyebrow and glanced around at the spilled paint, shreds of newspaper, and broken cut outs.
" Seems to me you got a bit carried away, huh chere?"
"Maybe," Rogue admitted grudgingly. "We have to plaster the whole panel with paper mache and wait for it to harden before we can glue on the puppets, which we haven't even made yet," Rogue informed him, pointing to the large white panel.
" Okay, let's go to work. I'll lift you up, and you can paint away," Remy suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement at Rogue's horrified look.
" Now, I know you're kidding," Rogue told him, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Surely you know dis Cajun well enough by now to tell when he's serious," Remy said smoothly, sliding off his sunglasses and putting them inside his pocket. "Now, what's the problem Chere? I assure you, I can lift you up, you don't look dat heavy," Remy said, smothering back a laugh at Rogue's outraged glare.
Now he's implying that I'm fat? Rogue thought hotly. "What's the problem? Um okay, for starters, my legs are showing in this skirt!" Rogue protested.
Remy smirked with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I already noticed your legs remember, I said they-,"
" I know what you said!" Rogue exploded, flushing. " I meant, you could end up in a coma if you try to lift me up!" She waited furiously for Remy to stop laughing, and after a moment looked up at her, eyes serious. How could he just laugh at the possibility of dying? Don't my powers scare him? Rogue wondered, staring at him.
"Is dat all? Look, relax, I got gloves, see?" Remy said, holding up two hands encased in a pair of thin black leather glvoes, that looked as if they were butter soft. Rogue gulped as Remy stepped closer.
"I'm afraid of heights," Rogue countered, taking a step backwards.
"I'm not gonna drop you chere," Remy said huskily, casually stepping towards her, his eyes glowing.
" Back up Cajun," Rogue ordered, and in her haste to get away, tripped over the large pan of paper mache, and landed on the sticky floor. She felt a slight draft and was horrified to find that hte denim skirt had split all the way up the back. Utterly mortified, Rogue sat there, feeling a dark flush sweep over her face. "You'd better not be laughing."
"Remy won't say a thing, promise," Remy's voice sounded behind her. Rogue could almost envision the devilish smirk on his lips.
"I mean it LeBeau," Rogue threatened, feeling the sudden urge to bury her head in her hands. Why was she always embarassing herself in front of him? Somehow it was worse looking stupid in front of Remy than it was in front of Scott. She jumped when Remy appeared beffore her, and true to his word, remained serious.
" Are you okay, chere? No injuries?" Remy asked, kneeling down beside her.
"Ah'm fine. I just can't get up," Rogue muttered.
"Remy can fix that," Remy said grandly, and extended one lean tanned arm down to her. Rogue stared down at her bare hands and back at him, silent. After a moment of hesitation, she took it and hoisted herself up. His gloves ~ were~ butter soft, Rogue thought absently, as Remy gently steadied her. Rogue jumped and backed away, wary again.
" When are you gonna trust dis Cajun?" Remy asked gently, his eyes holding her. Rogue swallowed.
" When you stop talking in third person," Rogue retorted, avoiding his eyes. Remy was silent and he gave her a small knowing smile as if aware at her attempts to change the subject.
" Guess it'll be awhile then, chere," Remy replied softly.
" Guess so," Rogue said, a bit subdued, and turned to the side. "Look maybe we should do this later."
" Whatever you say," Remy said smoothly, the humor back in his eyes.
Rogue turend to go, feeling her heart thud in her chest.
"Oh, and chere?"
" Yeah?"
" You might wanna cover up some before going out?" Remy said, winking slyly at her. Rogue belatedly remembered the state of her skirt, or rather, Kitty's skirt.
" Ah hate you, Remy LeBeau!" Rogue sputtered, before storming out, hearing Remy's deep laughter behind her. As she flung open the door to her room, Kitty was sitting on her bed reading what looked to be a note. She glanced up at Rogue's arrival, her eyes widening.
" Rogue....two questions. First of all, what in god's name have you done to my clothes, and second...who's Frenchy?" Kitty demanded, pointing ot the pro/con list she had in her hands. The petite freshman quickly stopped her inquisition as Rogue let out a string of colorful curses
Rogue glanced at herself in the floor-length mirror that had just recently been put on the back of the door in her room. I can't believe I am doing this, Rogue thought disgustedly for a brief second, as she slid one of Kitty's scoop neck peasant shirts off of a hanger. This was a definite departure from her old Goth attire, Rogue thought wincing as she slid onthe shirt. The gothic makeup had been far easier to give up than her chronic penchant for dark, autumn colors that covered up as much as skin as possible. Being her, one couldn't be too careful. Rogue bit her lip as she glanced at the peach colored top, which brought out her natural complexion. After staring at the denim skirt which also hung on Kitty's side of the closet and her own beloved pair of well worn snug black jeans, habit threatened to win out.
Jean would never wear something like this, Rogue mused staring at the tear above the left pant leg on her jeans. The elegant redhead probably never had to agonize about how to look good for Scott, she probably never even thought about it. How annoying, Rogue thought sighing. After a few minutes of just sitting, Rogue lost patience and took out a notepad from her desk. " I really can't believe I'm doing this. Pro and con lists for clothes....what's next?" Rogue muttered, plucking a pen from her pocket and began the list.
Pros/Cons for Denim Skirt
Pro: Shows my legs.......nevermind, scratch that. As if Scott would even look.
Con: It's from Kitty's closet. Too chipper for my image.
Pro: Maybe it would shock Scott enough to pay attention to me.
Con: Feel totally lame in it. Bobby and Evan would probably die laughing. Not to mention what Frenchy would have to say about it.
Rogue stopped writing, and blushed hotly as she stared at that last sentence. What did she care what that upstart Cajun had to say about what she wore? "The guy wears a brown trench coat and sunglasses inside for heavens sake," Rogue tried to scoff, even though she had to admit that it suited his lean, muscular build. I don't care what he thinks, Rogue thought hotly, and grabbed the skirt decidedly.
After sliding it on and zipping it up, she closed the closet and threw in the hangers , hoping it would be awhile before Kitty noticed the clothes missing. It wasn't because she was worried that her cheerful roomate would be upset about having her clothes borrowed. In fact, Kitty was often the one encouraging her to wear new styles. But if Kitty found out, she'd have to admit that she was stooping low enough to wear a skirt to impress a guy.
" It's okay, I'll just take it off as soon as this stupid decorating thing is over," Rogue murmured, letting her auburn hair fall freely around her shoulders, and stepping cautiously out into the hallway. please, let me not run into....HIM, rogue prayed and walked stealthily to the recreation room, swallowing nervously.
She paused outside the door, tugging her gloves higher on her arms. Here goes nothing, Rogue thought and came in with a tentative smile on her face. Scott was already there, ripping open bags of confetti, and mixing what looked to be paper mache. Oh great, arts and crafts, Rogue thought groaning. After clearing her throat lightly, Scott turned around and raised his eyebrows.
"Rogue! You-," Scott broke off, his face creased, mouth tensing as if about to say something.
" What is it?" Rogue asked casually, but she could feel the makings of a grin start at her mouth.
"that skirt, it-," Scott began, his hands knitted together almost comically. Rogue waited patiently for his response. "Isn't that Kitty's?" Scott finished, sounding confused.
Rogue's grin died, turning quickly into a barely repressed scowl. "Yes, I um, ran out of clothes. Laundry day you know," Rogue said quickly, but clenched her teeth with frustration. How dense could Scott possibly be?
"Something wrong, Rogue?" Scott asked.
"I'm fine Scott," Rogue sighed, and found she couldn't even sit down because of how tight the skirt was. Oh well, I'll have to think of something else, Rogue thought wryly, glancing over at Scott who was still studiously mixing the mache. "So, uh, what can I do to help?"
" I gotta be honest, Scott. When you said decorating, I thought you meant, like, streamers and stuff," Rogue admitted, rolling up her sleeves.
Scott smiled wryly. "I thought so too. It was only till Jean locked me in here with these huge panel things that I realized it's gonna be a lot harder. Thanks again for helping, Rogue."
Rogue smiled noncomittally. "It's not big deal," Rogue replied, and turned determinedly back to the newspaper, shredding it. They worked in silence for twenty minutes straight, with Rogue trying to think of possible conversation topics while cursing the sticky mixture that was all over her hands and shirt. Kitty was going to kill her.
What are we supposed to talk about anyway? Rogue thought, with a covert look at Scott. Jean? The magical uses for newspaper? How to peel dried glue off your skin? All surefire ways to win his heart, Rogue thought, laughing silently at the ridiculousness of her situation. Here she was, in a borrowed skirt, unable to sit, and totally tongue-tied in front of her crush with her hands covered in paper mache. Wonderful.
After half an hour, Rogue was still wrestling with the same stupid paper mache model of a midieval man. It didn't even resemble an animal, let alone a man! "This had better be worth it, because this is hell," Rogue grumbled, fighting the urge to quit and leave Scott to deal. Crush or no crush, decorating was torture.
"No kidding," Scott agreed grimly. "There's no way we can make two hundred of these paper mache models by the Carnival date." Rogue blanched. Two hundred? "My hands are already cramping. I'm gonna go talk to jean," scott announced, and left before Rogue could protest.
After a few minutes, Scott came in beaming. Rogue stretched her tired arms and glanced up expectantly. "Well, is Jean giving us another job?" Rogue asked hopefully. Scott looked uncomfortable.
"Um, well sort of. She gave ~ me~ a new job," Scott said slowly. "I'm supposed to be printing tickets."
"So I'm supposed to do all of these myself!" Rogue said incredulously.
" No, no, of course not. I got you a replacement volunteer," Scott amended quickly. "I'm really sorry Rogue. But decorating isn't really my strong point, and you said you liked it right?" Scott said apologetically.
Rogue crossed her arms, cursing herself for telling the lie in the first place. So much for impressing Scott with her witty conversational skills and snazzy new outfit. She was really batting zero. And now she was going to have to finish everything with the help of a, most likely, incompetent helper. Probably Kurt, or worse, Bobby.
"You aren't mad, are you Rogue?" Scott asked seriously. Rogue shook her head.
"No, it's okay, really Scott. Ah'm fine," Rogue assured him.
"Good okay, I gotta run. Jean's calling," Scott called, and with one last apologetic look in her direction, ran out the door.
" Man, that boy is so whipped," Rogue muttered , turning back to her work. Her neck tensed as she sensed someone watching her from the doorway. Remy! "What are you doing here?" Rogue said scowling, as she dipped her paintbrush in the mixture. Just figured that he was the replacement.....
"Ah, cheerful as always," Rogue teased, walking into the rec room, and propped himself up on a stool, his long legs extended lazily. Rogue watched him, wondering why she felt so unsettled around him. Everything he does, he's so confident and perfect, Rogue thought irritated that he looked flawless as usual, when she was covered in glue. She felt his eyes scan her figure quietly, and she crossed her arms to face him.
"Chere, you-," Remy began, but Rogue cut him off with an upraised hand.
" Oh stop, yes I know I borrowed it from Kitty, is that a big problem?" Rogue asked hotly, throwing up her hands. Irritatingly enough, Remy shook his head and laughed in his husky relaxed way. Rogue fumed. First Scott had totally ignored her new look, and now Remy was going to make fun of her. It was too much.
"The skirt, it suits you, chere. Shows off your nice legs," Remy observed, and the look in his eyes were downright devilish. Rogue felt a heat wave start at her neck and continue upwards as she gazed down at her bare legs.
"If you're teasing me," Rogue spluttered threateningly.
"I'm very serious chere. You look good," Remy said quietly, and his voice was a gentle caress. Rogue turned away.
" Well, Scott didn't notice anyway," Rogue muttered to cover her embarassment.
" Then he's blind," Remy said bluntly. Okay, calm down Rogue, she told herself, feeling a strange flutter of emotions.
" So you gonna help or just stand around, Cajun?" Rogue demanded, clearing her throat, trying to stifle the tiny smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. Remy cocked an eyebrow and glanced around at the spilled paint, shreds of newspaper, and broken cut outs.
" Seems to me you got a bit carried away, huh chere?"
"Maybe," Rogue admitted grudgingly. "We have to plaster the whole panel with paper mache and wait for it to harden before we can glue on the puppets, which we haven't even made yet," Rogue informed him, pointing to the large white panel.
" Okay, let's go to work. I'll lift you up, and you can paint away," Remy suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement at Rogue's horrified look.
" Now, I know you're kidding," Rogue told him, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Surely you know dis Cajun well enough by now to tell when he's serious," Remy said smoothly, sliding off his sunglasses and putting them inside his pocket. "Now, what's the problem Chere? I assure you, I can lift you up, you don't look dat heavy," Remy said, smothering back a laugh at Rogue's outraged glare.
Now he's implying that I'm fat? Rogue thought hotly. "What's the problem? Um okay, for starters, my legs are showing in this skirt!" Rogue protested.
Remy smirked with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I already noticed your legs remember, I said they-,"
" I know what you said!" Rogue exploded, flushing. " I meant, you could end up in a coma if you try to lift me up!" She waited furiously for Remy to stop laughing, and after a moment looked up at her, eyes serious. How could he just laugh at the possibility of dying? Don't my powers scare him? Rogue wondered, staring at him.
"Is dat all? Look, relax, I got gloves, see?" Remy said, holding up two hands encased in a pair of thin black leather glvoes, that looked as if they were butter soft. Rogue gulped as Remy stepped closer.
"I'm afraid of heights," Rogue countered, taking a step backwards.
"I'm not gonna drop you chere," Remy said huskily, casually stepping towards her, his eyes glowing.
" Back up Cajun," Rogue ordered, and in her haste to get away, tripped over the large pan of paper mache, and landed on the sticky floor. She felt a slight draft and was horrified to find that hte denim skirt had split all the way up the back. Utterly mortified, Rogue sat there, feeling a dark flush sweep over her face. "You'd better not be laughing."
"Remy won't say a thing, promise," Remy's voice sounded behind her. Rogue could almost envision the devilish smirk on his lips.
"I mean it LeBeau," Rogue threatened, feeling the sudden urge to bury her head in her hands. Why was she always embarassing herself in front of him? Somehow it was worse looking stupid in front of Remy than it was in front of Scott. She jumped when Remy appeared beffore her, and true to his word, remained serious.
" Are you okay, chere? No injuries?" Remy asked, kneeling down beside her.
"Ah'm fine. I just can't get up," Rogue muttered.
"Remy can fix that," Remy said grandly, and extended one lean tanned arm down to her. Rogue stared down at her bare hands and back at him, silent. After a moment of hesitation, she took it and hoisted herself up. His gloves ~ were~ butter soft, Rogue thought absently, as Remy gently steadied her. Rogue jumped and backed away, wary again.
" When are you gonna trust dis Cajun?" Remy asked gently, his eyes holding her. Rogue swallowed.
" When you stop talking in third person," Rogue retorted, avoiding his eyes. Remy was silent and he gave her a small knowing smile as if aware at her attempts to change the subject.
" Guess it'll be awhile then, chere," Remy replied softly.
" Guess so," Rogue said, a bit subdued, and turned to the side. "Look maybe we should do this later."
" Whatever you say," Remy said smoothly, the humor back in his eyes.
Rogue turend to go, feeling her heart thud in her chest.
"Oh, and chere?"
" Yeah?"
" You might wanna cover up some before going out?" Remy said, winking slyly at her. Rogue belatedly remembered the state of her skirt, or rather, Kitty's skirt.
" Ah hate you, Remy LeBeau!" Rogue sputtered, before storming out, hearing Remy's deep laughter behind her. As she flung open the door to her room, Kitty was sitting on her bed reading what looked to be a note. She glanced up at Rogue's arrival, her eyes widening.
" Rogue....two questions. First of all, what in god's name have you done to my clothes, and second...who's Frenchy?" Kitty demanded, pointing ot the pro/con list she had in her hands. The petite freshman quickly stopped her inquisition as Rogue let out a string of colorful curses