PRE-A/N: This is it, folks. It's been a nice long run, and I'm so glad that you all came and enjoyed this story. Panther and I had a great time writing it, and we're thrilled that you think that we're any good, much less funny and interesting enough to keep you coming back.

This chapter is all mine. Panther has no idea how this will end, because we didn't actually give it a distinct ending when we were writing it. I thought about it for a long time. There were actually a few of you who said that you wanted to see the guys win the bet. There were others of you who were girl power all the way. I took everybody into consideration, but, on the all-or-nothing terms of the bet, I did what I thought was the only fair thing. If you hate the ending, maybe I'll write an alternate one. Maybe. I hate to pander, but I want to keep on everybody's good side, too. Maybe I'll let Panther write the alternate ending. Who knows? I bet hers would be funnier.

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All the students waited, shifting in their seats, dying to know the outcome of the bet.

Hank peeked over the top of the shield and scanned down the length of the table, taking in all of the faces.

"Without preamble," he said, "the girls have it. Sorry, guys, I was pulling for you."

He retreated before the male students could start throwing things at him. The other teachers got up, or stayed seated, in the Professor's case, and vacated the area, too.

At Dr. McCoy's announcement, all of the girls jumped up, vindicated and cheering. The guys were stunned. After all they had gone through yesterday?! The kitchen walls were barely able to hold all of the sound waves that were bouncing around.

"HA!" Jean shouted, jumping up out of her seat and pointing directly into Scott's shocked face. "Now, go clean my SUV, bitch!"

Scott was even more shocked.

Tabitha leaned over and kissed Roberto on the cheek. "I haven't done my laundry this week. Have fun!"

Jubilee laughed triumphantly as she told Jamie that he had to wash the dishes after dinner tonight. Amara informed Sam that he needed to go tidy up her room, then pick all of the hair out of her brush, and make sure that her barrettes and head-bands were sorted by color, size and type. Kurt was going to be spending the day tasting all of Kitty's latest culinary experiments. Bobby was commanded into silence for the next seven hours, and if he couldn't do that, then he would be playing fetch with Rahne. No, she wasn't going to be the one fetching the stick, or whatever else she wanted when the whim struck her.

Rogue had been silently grinning the entire time. She was too busy thinking up interesting forms of torture to be vocal about them just yet. Remy watched her. He couldn't help the little part of him that was eagerly waiting to find out what she was going to do to him. His rational mind knew that it would probably suck major ass, but that part of him that went after Rogue when she was in her worst moods because that was when she was most fun was panting in anticipation.

When everyone vacated the kitchen to start their day, some of hard labor, some of joyful tormenting, Rogue got up to follow, heading toward her room. Remy followed. She turned to face him in one of the hallways that was left deserted.

"What?" she asked.

"Cain' I jus' enjoy ya company, cherie?" he said with his characteristic grin.

"No."

He made a show of posing nonchalantly in front of her. He let that grin slowly melt into its purest, most seductively sexual, smirking form. "Wanna see what you got planned fo' me, chere. What's it gonna be? How bad's it gonna hurt?"

She took a half-threatening step toward the boastful Cajun. "You so eagah ta get yo time as a slave started, swamp rat?"

"De sooner I get started, the sooner I get done, non?" he asked.

Rogue shifted her weight to one side and decided to be honest. "Ah haven't thought of anythin' suitin' mah tastes yet."

Remy shifted closer, gazing down into her eyes. "I c'n t'ink o' some real nice t'ings dat might suit ya tastes."

Just like yesterday, she couldn't help smiling back up at him, but it was in challenge this time. She reached her hand up and held Remy's chin gently between her thumb and first two fingers. "That ain't what Ah was thinkin' of, swamp rat."

Just as she was standing there, inspiration struck. She looked from his amazing eyes, not completely cleaned of all the eyeliner from yesterday, down to his goatee. That horrid, wretched, awful, ugly hank of hair he was trying to pass off as a real style. A second, much more evil smile grew on her lips. "Ah got it."

Her emotions had shifted, Remy noticed. But was that a good thing, or something he should worry about? "Care ta share it wit' me?"

Rogue tugged slightly on the goatee. "This. Ah want it gone."

"What?!" he asked, backing up.

She nodded. "Shave it off."

He snorted at her. "Not a chance, chere," he told her bluntly, starting to walk off.

Rogue caught up with him easily. She grabbed his arm, spinning him around, the same evil grin on her face. "Ah command you, Remy LeBeau. Shave that ugly-ass goatee off...an ya free fo' the rest o' the week. That's all Ah want is that goatee gone."

Five minutes later everyone who was within hearing and seeing distance was witness to the strangest thing they'd ever seen at the Institute. Rogue was chasing Remy down for once, instead of the other way around. She was insisting that he do something, and he was fighting it every step of the way. She dogged his heels and pressed her case every bit as passionately as he did her.

Remy finally managed to lose her for about an hour or so before dinner that night. Unfortunately, when she showed up to eat, she kept her eyes trained on him the entire time. He was trying to make his escape, but Bobby and Kurt always seemed to be where he needed to move to. It only took him three tries to figure out that she had somehow coerced them into helping her, the little traitors.

"Get ovah here, LeBeau!" Rogue called from the sink. She pulled a razor- one of his, no less- out from her pocket and held it up as half of the students still in the kitchen looked on.

He didn't want to look like a damn wuss in front of everybody.... His pride was having a little war with his ego. Who would have thought that the two were totally different things? He'd always assumed that they were the same until now, when Miss Slice-n-Dice over there.

Without a word, Remy walked over to the sink, yanked the razor out of Rogue's hand, and turned the water on hot. Never taking his angry eyes off of hers, he wet the blade and went at his chin. Going by feel and intuition alone, he shaved off his goatee. He nicked himself a grand total of five times, glaring down at Rogue all the while.

"Satisfied?" he asked, throwing the razor angrily into the sink.

Rogue switched the water to cold and grabbed a paper towel off the roll. She ran it under the cold water and then used it to wipe the spots of blood off of Remy's chin, smiling the whole time.

"Yup," she answered, going up on her toes and setting a light kiss on the tip of his newly bare jaw line, the ever-stay lipstick helping to create a temporary shield for his skin against hers so that he didn't even feel the tiny bit of energy she absorbed.

She turned off the water and left him standing there, completely bewildered. As she went through the doorframe, he finally reclaimed some sense.

"Are you schizophrenic?!" he yelled at her back. "Multiple personalities?! Manic depressive?! PMSing!?! Are de psyches in yo head havin' a field day?!?"

The only thing Rogue yelled back was: "Don' let that thing grow back or Ah'll jus' make ya shave it off again!"

And thus ends the tale of EGGROLLS, COCK, AND THINGS, when the X-Men decided to cross-dress for the day.

POST-A/N: Final thoughts? If you didn't read the PRE, go do that.

Oh, and the story's not really over. Is it ever? This is just one small piece of these people's lives. One episode. It's just all I have for now. There's also New Year's Eve, and the one that Panther and I are working on writing now which mostly centers around Sam and Roberto, but there will be, of course, a healthy dose of Romy in there. We're fanatic Romy-shippers. I just need to put those stories up. It probably won't be until after Oct. 11, though. That's when I go home for Fall Break.