Disclaimer: Characters and past storylines are property of Marvel and Fox. I lay claim to nothing but the compilation of the words. No copyright infringement is intended. Batista is not any fabrication of my imagination, either.
Author's Note: I need to shake the effects of the last chapter. That is why I am choosing to write this chapter today, right after the last one, no day long break in between them. I hate to leave things on an angry note, I really do. So, on that note, here is Chapter Five! I hope that you enjoy it!
Two days had passed since your little outburst with John, and some comforting words from your friends had followed said incident. Gambit, or Remy, as he has now told you to call him, was afraid that you would crawl back up into your hole, and not come back out. Just because you locked yourself in your room for the rest of the day didn't mean that you were ready to go back to the darker side of life. You were already having too much fun, minus the arguement.
Verity, who had been one of the girls in the hallway when you let loose, had followed you upstairs, and had inquired. You spilled the whole story, and she was in shock.
"He's in a mood, alright," she said. "But, he had no right to yell at you."
"I had no right to do what I did, either," you admitted, with a sigh.
"No!" Verity shook her head. "Don't think that, (you). You had every right to be mad. If I had been you, I would have torn him a new one, too."
"Don't try poetry, Verity," you laughed. She laughed with you, and had convinced you to go back downstairs with her. The rest of the day had gone smoothly.
Two days, and still no contact with John. Not that the thought that you two are seemingly avoiding each other makes you feel much better, but, at least there would be no awkward moments between the two of you.
The light shines through your window, and you stare outside. There are a handful of other students outside, shaking off the class period.
"One exam down," you think to yourself. "Just five more to go." Your first exam was simple; English Composition was a breeze, just as always. Not that Mr. Summers would have made it very difficult, to begin with; his tests are always easy. It is no wonder that you are getting an A.
With a sigh, you slide off of the bed, and head out of your room. You have spent enough time in their over the last few days, with studying and feeling bad. No need to keep adding to it. You make your way through the hallway, and downstairs, the whole time thinking about the exams to come in the coming days. You have a Chemistry exam, a Physics paper to finish, and a U.S. History exam.
The thought makes you freeze; you have an exam with John.
"Damn," you think. "I guess that there will be an awkward silence, after all." You smile, and continue your way to the back yard.
The day is too warm for pants, so you had decided to wear shorts for the day. You thank yourself for having made the choice, as the temperature is easily eighty-two degrees. Of course, you know what eighty-two degrees feels like, and more, which makes many people believe that you can handle the heat so much better than anyone else. Nothing could be farther from the truth; you hate the heat, which is the irony of your power. You absorb the fire, but hate the heat, and there is nothing more to really be said about it, other than it is ironic.
No sooner do you get out of the door, then you hear an unmistakable voice.
"Hey!" You hear the smooth, southern accent that could only belong to Rogue, as she calls to you. "It's about time you show your face in the sun, (you)!"
You stick your tongue out at her, and she does the same. You walk over to her, and sit down next to her, under the large willow tree, the exact same one that you usually eat and write under.
"What's up?" you ask, looking around.
"Just watching the guys playing football," she replies, with a smile. She points her finger to just over your shoulder, and you turn around to look.
"Sorry," you apologize, realizing that you have sat right in her field of vision. You slide to her left, and sit beside her. In no time, you end up in the same position as her, lying on your stomach on the grass.
As you watch the guys, tossing the football around, your eyes fall on one boy in particular. He's about your age, maybe a bit older, but he's built like a brick wall.
"Who is that?" you ask, absentmindedly, as you point to the dark haired guy, who is, at the moment, catching Remy in a tackle.
"Who?" Rogue asks, as if you just snapped her out of a trance. She follows your finger to the group of boys, as you point to the individual in question. "Peter?"
You shrug. "I've got no idea what his name is!" you laugh. "That's why I asked you!"
Rogue laughs. "Well, you mean the big, tall guy who looks like he could take down Batista?"
"Batista?" you ask, in disbelief. "The wrestler?"
"Yeah," she nods. Her face turns bright pink. "I'm a closet wrestling fan, myself."
"I never would have guessed," you continue, with a smile. You, too, are a bit of a wrestling fan. Well, enough to know what you are talking about when the topic comes up. "So, that's Peter?"
"Yep. That's Peter. Peter Rasputin. I swear, the boy should be a quarterback or something."
"Yeah, I can see it now. We'd have to start our own league." You pause for a moment, and think to yourself. "The MFL."
"MFL?" Rogue asks, with a laugh. "Now, that would be something!"
You nod. The Mutant Football League would be a sight to see, but, only for other mutants, most likely. To some humans, it might as well be a sideshow attraction.
"So," Rogue continues, once again returning her gaze to the guys. "Have you talked to John about the other day, yet?"
You shake your head. "No, I haven't." You sigh, and join Rogue in watching the game again. "I haven't even seen him to get the chance to talk to him."
Rogue shuffles. "Well, he's right there," she informs you, pointing to where her eyes have fallen.
Once again, you follow the direction of her finger, and end up looking out at John, his hair flying everywhere, stuck to his face, all sweaty, with no shirt on. You can't help but stare; he looks extremely good.
"How many times has he been tackled?" you ask, not looking away.
"Um, let's see," Rogue says, twisting her face. "Once by Peter, once by Remy, which really got him angry, don't ask me why, and three times by Bobby."
"Three by Bobby?" you ask, turning your head to look at her.
"Yeah," Rogue nods. "They were trying to see who could get at who the most times."
"Who's winning?" you ask, expecting one particular answer.
"Bobby, at the moment, I think." Rogue laughs to herself, lightly. "I don't think that John has gotten anywhere."
You mouth an "oh", and return your attention to the game at hand. It doesn't take long for you to find John again, and your body tenses, when you notice that he has stopped moving, and is now staring back at you.
"Wave to him," Rogue suggests, bumping her shoulder against yours for added enthusiasm.
Raising your hand, you feel your face get hot, and you wave. You expect him to shake his head, and go back to playing football. However, he cracks a small smile, and waves back. You laugh, and he continues to wave, but it doesn't last long; John puts his hand down, only to be suddenly struck to the ground, in a surprise tackle from behind.
"Four by Bobby," Rogue quickly says, tacking on another one for her boyfriend. The two of you are already stiffling laughter, but that sends you into a fit of almost uncontrollable laughter. It's not directed at John's fall, but at the surprise of it all. You both stop laughing, as you begin to hear the guys talking.
John stands, and is holding his arm.
"Dammit, Drake!" he yells. "That one hurt!"
"You alright, man?" Bobby asks, concerned.
"I'm fine," John says, nodding. "I'm gonna' take a minute to recover, but, you had better watch your ass when I get back out here."
"Maybe we should all take a break," Peter suggests. "I need to get something to drink."
"Me, too," Remy agrees. "I'll go with you." Peter and Remy take off, while Bobby and John grab their shirts, and make their way over to where you and Rogue have begun rolling in the grass, trying to contain your laughter.
"What's so funny?" Bobby asks, dropping down next to Rogue. He pulls her up, and kisses her, before lying back against the grass with her.
Right above you, John is still standing, as if he is waiting for your permission to sit down. You look at him, quizzically, and raise an eyebrow.
"I know," he says, leaning down. "You don't bite. Right?"
"No, I charbroil," you respond, with a laugh. "Take a seat."
John nods, and drops to the ground at your left. He rolls onto his back, and groans.
"You hurt?" you ask, hoping that something hasn't been broken. He might be tough by attitude, but, by body mass, he's pretty thin, and thin means easily damaged.
He shakes his head. "No, I'm alright." He rubs his arm. "Just a battle injury."
"Then, why are you whimpering?" you tease, making him aware that you have noted his puppy noises. "Is there anything that I can do to help?"
"Maybe," he says, grinning. The look on his face signals to you that it was the wrong thing to ask; he is about to give you a John original for an answer. "Feel like giving me a massage?"
"Do I look like I could do that for you, to the point where it would releave your pain?"
"Uh-huh." He continues to grin. "How about it."
"(You)," Rogue laughs. "If John will stop whining, it might be in your best interest to do it."
"I was just about to tell him that I would, if he would shut up." You laugh, and wave your hand. "Roll over. I can't do it from here."
John groans again, and turns over. You've given massages before, but you aren't very good at it. You start to move your hands across John's shoulders, when you hear Bobby's voice.
"Now, John can get the new girl, who he hasn't even known for a week, to do that for him, but I can't get you, my girlfriend to do it for me?" Rogue swats him across the arm.
"Fine," she challenges. "Roll over, and I'll do it."
Bobby, who is wearing a grin similar to John's, wastes no time getting in the same position as his friend.
"What a great way to be relieved of the pressures of exams, huh, John?"
"No kidding," John laughs, raising his upper body a little.
"Head down," you order, lightly pushing John's head toward the ground.
"Yes, ma'am." You smack him in the back of the head, not so lightly, and he laughs.
"Who would've thought we'd be doing this," you begin, over your shoulder. "You know it, Rogue."
"That's okay," Rogue laughs back. "They get to do this for us next."
Bobby laughs, and John is silent, before making a comment.
"I've got no complaints," he says, head still down, this time.
You shake your head, but don't bother to ask what he means by it. It's not that you don't want to know. It's more that you are happy enough that he is actually still talking to you after what had happened between the two of you the other day in the common room. You continue to run your hands across his shoulders, and his back, and smile.
"Who would've guessed," you think to yourself, with a sigh. "This is going to be interesting." You look over your shoulder, and think of something to say. "By the way, Bobby, nice tackle." John sticks his tongue out at you, and you do the same to him. "Oh, yeah," you think, again. "It's definitely going to get interesting."
Author's Note: That was a long chapter. I hope that I didn't lose anyone on that one. I'm trying to keep everything slow, before the real fun begins. Trust me, it will be soon! I also wanted to set up the passing of your fight with John. So, what did you think? As always, I await your thoughts. I am thinking about writing another one tonight, but, again, I don't know. Thanks for reading! Until the next chapter...