Disclaimer: Is it possible to take an ad out in the paper for an unwanted disclaimer? I'm trying to get rid of mine...

A/N: Can you guess what time it is right now? Okay, so maybe you can't, but let's just say it's really late at night and I'm doing Author's Notes. Where exactly did my life go wrong, I'd just like to ask... : )

~ Taineyah, Jean1, Carla, Panther Nesmith, Goddess Evie, Solitaire, Malexi, Qk -- You've all been sucked into the madness, too. *shakes head regretfully* More innocent lives claimed... it's so tragic. *sniff, sniff*

~ Crimson -- Coolness! The madness almost disrupted the keyboard-mastering process!

~ Jen1703 -- Wow, a Scott and Jean reader! That is so cool! I knew I wanted those two in the fic, but to be honest, when I got them here it was like I didn't know what to do with them. Rest assured though, I'm trying... : )

~ Alwaysright -- So did you really stay all this time in that tent or were you just bluffing? : )

~ sylvester -- "why didn't Rogue just scream for someone else if she didn't want Remy to help cause of the requests??" For the same reason the boys didn't get to worm their way out of buying the pads -- it would just be too easy. And we can't let them have it easy, now can we? Where's the fun in that? : )

~ ishandahalf -- 1) *places string in front of ish and waits for insanity to ensue* 2) Okay... Scott-and-Jean Rant #253, check. 3)*gasp!* The pink and frilly things can reproduce?! Oh good Lord, we're no longer safe on this world! 4) 3 days? It was dead for 3 days and you didn't notice?! That's a new level even for you, my friend. : ) 5) So you're gonna have to chose... Which will it be 'Madness' or 'Hazard'? 'Cause frankly, you can't have both. It's just not fair... to me! My poor writing brain can only do so much! ; )

~ Lisa -- I'm usually called evil, so crazy is a refreshing change of pace! ; ) And what a nice Willy Wonka quote. That's going straight into my collection. The Wonka bar, however, will probably go straight to my hips, delicious though it was... *sigh* You just can't win sometimes...

~ Leina -- *evil grin* Wow, excellent guess! But I had something slightly different in mind... ; )

~ Devilish Kurumi -- Whoo-hoo! 'Madness' got on someone's favorites list! Can I offer you some form of payment for your generousity? How do you feel about sports cars? A house in the Caribbean? : )

~ Eileen Blazer -- Scott's Three Stooges tape was actually mentioned in the comics. It was the issue where Remy was helping Scott move his and Jean's things into the boathouse. I would give you the specific issue number, but you know how lazy I am... : )

~ Kanshisha Tenshi -- 1) You know what? I wasn't even thinking when I typed out that power drill line -- or the rest of this fic, for that matter! ; ) But I remembered thinking "What an interestingly brutal way to commit suicide" when Stryker was explaining his wife's death in X2, so maybe it was written subconsciously. 2) "I think we fans are driving you like a slave." Finally! Someone who understands! *drops to knees and weeps* You won't believe what I've been through!

~ TrinityC -- Ahh... movie-Wolvie... Hugh Jackman... *fantasizes*... I'm sorry, what were we talking about again?

CHAPTER 4
Spring Cleaning Madness
Part III

~ You know what seems odd to me?
Numbers that aren't divisible by two. ~

Bobby looked up from where he was messily folding Kurt's giveaway clothes. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Vat?"

"It sounded like someone screaming."

"Man, stop trying to weasel out of helping," Evan chided as he pulled a strange contraption out of the closet. It was a long black hose with a large rectangular attachment at one end. "Kurt, what the heck is this thing?"

"Oh, zat's my Flowbee Haircutting System. I bought it from ze Home Shopping Network."

Bobby and Evan exchanged glances.

"Haircutting System?" Bobby asked warily.

"Ja. You hook zat end up to ze vacuum cleaner, and zen you -- "

"The vacuum?!"

Kurt nodded cheerily, oblivious to the disbelieving expressions that were cemented on his friends' faces. "Zen you put zis end up to your body..." He took the device from Evan and demonstrated, positioning it against his head. "Ze vacuum sucks ze hair up to ze blades and zen takes care of ze clippings, too. No-mess haircut!" he declared with a flourish. "It was really a good buy."

"Obviously," Evan commented, though Kurt didn't catch the sarcasm in his voice.

"It's also great with fur."

"Fur?"

"Ja. You think it's easy trimming all zis blue stuff every week?"

"I actually didn't know it even grew..."

"Duh, man." Kurt rolled his eyes and went back to sorting through his clothes.

"So you're... keeping this?" Evan inquired tentatively.

"Of course."

"Hey, Kurt," Bobby called. "Just out of curiosity, what else have you bought off TV?"

"Vell, zat corner shelf over zere. It's called a Bright Shelf -- "

"How appropriate," quipped Evan.

Not the least bit deterred by the wry remark, Kurt continued. "It can be installed in ze shortest amount of time, not requiring any tools and holds up to nine pounds! Plus it's got a warm atmospheric lighting for a comfortable and relaxing mood."

"He's starting to sound like an infomercial," Bobby whispered to Evan.

"You mean it's freaking you out, too?"

"Zen zere's my Contour Secret Pillow." Kurt walked over to his bed and extracted the said item from underneath the covers. "It cradles your head and shoulders -- "

"The shampoo?"

" -- and supports the natural alignment of your spine. Helps you to sleep better." The young German then walked over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He took out a small, colored jar. "And zis is called Blue Relief."

"Umm... to relieve you of your blueness?"

"Good for body aches, chronic pain, arthritis -- "

"Dude, how old are you, like sixty-three? Why do you have to worry about arthritis?"

" -- backaches -- "

"Wouldn't that be included in 'body aches' already? Unless, of course, the back isn't considered part of the body anymore..."

" -- leg cramps -- "

"Why? Is it that time of the month?"

" -- and insect bites. I use it after our Danger Room sessions."

"Yeah, 'cause you know there're a lot of insects biting in there," Bobby snickered.

"Sure you laugh now," Kurt said, closing the drawer back up again. "But vait until Logan has you in another Level 7 sim with all ze trimmings. Zen ve'll see..."

A noise from down the hall caught their attention.

"See! I told you I heard something!"

"Whatever it is, man, it's coming from the girls' side of the mansion. And I, for one, don't want to get involved."

"I agree with Evan. Remember vat happened ven ve came home from ze market?" Kurt shuddered. "Ze ringing in my ears lasted for a week."

"Yeah, who would've known that four women could make such a fuss over sanitary pads?"

Wordlessly, Evan and Kurt raised their hands.

"Well, then the whole thing was your fault."

- oOo -

"Umm... Jean?" Scott's voice came from behind the mountain of clothes in his arms. "Where do these go?"

"Oh, just set them down next to the rest," she replied, vaguely gesturing towards an identical mountain on her bed.

"Are you... keeping all of these?" Scott almost whimpered from the loss of weight on his person.

"No. I'm getting rid of some."

"Which?"

"The ones over there."

He looked in the direction she indicated. There were a handful of items sitting on her desk chair that couldn't have amounted to more than ten pieces. "You're kidding..."

Jean looked up. "What was that?"

"Er... nothing." He walked up to her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorting through my makeup."

He frowned in confusion. "You're giving away your makeup?"

"No, silly." She smiled at his ignorance. "Who would want to use someone else's old makeup? I'm just throwing out the stuff I don't want anymore."

Again, Scott looked at her 'discard' pile and found that precious little had actually been discarded. Well, at least we're making good progress, he thought as he surveyed the semi-cleaned room. All we have to do is tidy things up and then we're done. I wonder if the rest of the team is even close to --

"Scott, could you help me with this?" Jean called from the inside of her closet.

He came up behind her. "With what?"

"The rest of my stuff."

With yet another frown, Scott asked, "What stuff?" The small space was next to bare, with all the contents spewed throughout the bedroom.

Jean reached for the back wall and ran her hand over its surface until she felt a knob. Giving it a hard twist to the left, she stepped away. To Scott's dumbfounded amazement, the wood paneling easily slide aside to reveal another room equal in size, if not bigger, than the one behind them. What really set him cringing to his very core was when Jean flipped on the light switch, illuminating nothing but wall-to-wall clothes, footwear, bags and accessories.

It was every woman's fantasy.

And every man's nightmare.

"What... what's this?" he stammered, grabbing onto the doorframe for support.

"My walk-in closet," replied Jean cheerily. She stepped into the room and began pointing. "Now, I think we should start here and work our way over to the center..."

She didn't notice her 'little helper' slipping out into the hall in desperation, as if his life depended on it.

- oOo -

Remy was just coming up the main staircase when he noticed Scott slinking out of Jean's room.

"Escapin' de mayhem, mon ami?" he asked with a sly wink. "If you were any kind o' smart, you'd be tryin' t'sneak inta Jeannie's room instead o' out o' it."

With a gesture, Scott shushed the other boy into silence before pulling him further down the hall. "Not so loud! She might hear you. Then she'll have both of us sorting through her closet!"

Remy cocked an eyebrow. "An' dat's bad?"

"She's got one of the walk-in kinds." He shook his head in disbelief. If Remy didn't know any better, he would have sworn he saw genuine terror in Scott's eyes. "Or maybe a walk-in house would be more accurate. Shelf after shelf of clothes and even more clothes. How can she possibly wear all that stuff?"

"Ahh, but dat's why we love 'em, n'est-ce pas?" Remy slung an arm over Scott's shoulder and began pulling him towards his original destination. "C'mon. You c'n hide out wit' me in de girls' room, an' at de same time play knight in shinin' armor."

Scott finally took note of the broom and dustpan in Remy's hand. "What're those for?"

"Tactical tools t'get de girl, homme."

"How cliché," Scott mumbled dryly. "You're going to sweep Rogue off her feet... literally? Don't you think carrying her out in a dustpan will be a little hard to do?"

"So dat's de sense o' humor Bobby was warnin' me about? I c'n see why he was so concerned."

"It's about time!" they heard Kitty yell once they came into view. She sat Indian-style on top of her bed, arms crossed against her chest. Rogue stood nearby with a pillow, ready to pounce once she un-phased even a portion of her body. "Get her away from me."

"Quit bein' a chicken, Kit-Kat, an' take yoah beatin' like an X-Man!"

Scott stepped in. "What's going on?"

"Li'l traitor girl here made some kind o' deal with swamp rat ovah there an' she won't tell me what it was!"

"It's, like, none of your business!"

"It is when you sell me out, you double-crossin', scum-suckin' -- !"

"Enough with the name calling already! I did what I had to do to get that thing out of our room!"

"By sellin' me out?! How twisted is that?"

"I didn't, like, sell you out!"

"You did to-- "

Holding up his hands, Scott reasoned, "Does it even really matter?"

"Yes!" both girls shouted together, then returned to glaring daggers at each other.

Scott glanced over his shoulder at Remy, who was busy scooping the unwanted creature into the dustpan. "Why am I not surprised that you're involved in this mess?"

The Cajun shrugged. "Havin' two girls fightin' over me? What c'n I say, mon ami? It's a talent." He carefully climbed over the skewed shoeboxes and exited the closet. When Kitty and Rogue finally noticed his movements, they scrambled across the room faster than he could blink.

Sighing, Scott said, "What's the matter with you two? You've faced off with Sabretooth, Magneto, and mutant-haters, but you can't even stand to look at one little -- Holy crap, it moved!" He jumped back when the rodent jerked slightly.

"Ah'm sorry, Scottie, what were you sayin'?"

"Yeah, I, like, couldn't hear you over all the girlish screaming."

Realizing his blunder, Scott straightened and cleared his throat. "Umm... I'll... I'll get rid of that for you, Gambit." With only a moment's hesitation, he took the dustpan from Remy, holding it a few inches from his body, and walked out the door.

- oOo -

"How much time do we have left?" questioned Bobby as they made a mad dash for Evan's room.

Kurt checked his watch. "About five hours. Is zat enough?"

"Considering it took us the whole morning just to do your room? Not a snowball's chance in hell."

Evan rounded a corner and stopped in front of his bedroom door. "No sweat, dudes. I already know what I'm getting rid of, so all we'll be doing is putting things away." He twisted the doorknob and stepped in.

His room, in one word, was a mess.

Bobby hung his head in defeat. "Like I said, snowball's chance, man."

- oOo -

"... and when we're done with that, then we can organize everything by color. Or would it be better if we did them by season?" Jean turned around. "What do you think? ... Scott?" She snuck a peak into the other room. "Scott?"

- oOo -

Disposing of the rat -- though in Scott's opinion it was more the size of a small dog -- had been more difficult than he thought it would be. He at first was going to simply throw it in the garbage cans outside, which would be picked up early the next morning anyway, but apparently the half-dead creature had other ideas. Not only did it dive off the dustpan at the very last second, it also started to twitch its way to freedom -- inch by painstakingly slow inch. Torn between a morbid fascination at the last ditch effort to save itself, and complete and utter disgust, Scott finally came to a decision. He would have to put the poor thing out of its misery. The only question was, how did he go about doing that? Squishing it beneath his shoe was definitely not an option. He really didn't want to deal with the guts and internal organs splattering everywhere. And bashing it over the head with the dustpan seemed inhumane. In the end, he settled for using his powers to blast it into nothing. It would be quick, clean and easy -- and no one would know that he was too squeamish to do it any other way.

With that now behind him, Scott made his way back up to Kitty and Rogue's room. He still wasn't ready to go and face Jean, with her own personal planet of clothing, so he was heeding Gambit's advice and hiding out until the coast was clear.

He passed through the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the Cajun digging through something that he shouldn't have been in.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Remy calmly swung around at the sound of his voice. "What does it look like I'm doin', homme? I'm researchin'."

Scott strode over to the other boy and slammed the drawer shut, nearly taking Remy's fingers off in the process. "It looks like you're going through Rogue's underwear drawer."

With an unapologetic snicker, Remy commented, "Man's got a good eye."

"What are you, twelve years old? This isn't summer camp and you aren't orchestrating a panty raid."

"What's de matter, mon ami? Not like I'm doin' anyt'in' illegal. Jus' havin' a li'l clean fun." Remy leaned against the dresser and, pulling out one of Rogue's panties from his pocket, began twirling it around his index finger.

Scott tried to snatch it away from him. "Nothing illegal, huh? So I guess those just jumped into your jeans?"

"Oui. C'n I help it if de femme, along wit' her unmentionables, are attracted t'me like a magnet?"

"Put those back!"

"Non." Remy once again dodged Scott's attempt, easily sidestepping out of his reach. "Gotta be quicker dan dat, Cyke." With little effort, he pulled the drawer back open, causing Scott to slam into it with his stomach when he lunged for the Cajun again. "Ouch," Remy said sympathetically. "Couple o' inches lower an' Jeannie would've been one unhappy girlfriend."

Scott's only response was a sharp moan.

"I agree wit' you, Scottie. Rogue sure does have fine taste," he murmured, fingering a black-laced bra. "Sure you don' wan' join in de fun? Lots o' eye candy t'choose from." He picked out several items. "What's ya pleasure? Sports bra or cotton panties? I'd let you see de juicier stuff, homme, but let's face it, I'd rip ya head off first."

"Cut it out, Gambit," Scott rasped as the proffered pieces were shoved into his face. "Rogue's like a sister to me."

Remy grinned at that. "Good t'know. Least I don' have t'worry 'bout you gettin' any stupid ideas when it comes t'her." He expertly re-folded the underwear precisely as he'd found them. "Tell you what, one o' dese days we'll raid Jeannie's drawer an' see what we find dere. She's got t'have some interestin' t'ings, eh?"

Before Scott could reply, there was a small gasp from the door. Kitty stood there with a tray of sandwiches in one hand and a six-pack of soda in the other.

"What are you doing?" she asked, suspicious that they were at Rogue's bureau. When she noticed exactly which drawer was open, her eyes widened. "Oh my God!" she practically screamed. "She is, like, so gonna kill yo-- !"

Remy's hand over her mouth successfully cut her off. With his boot, he kicked the door shut and then dragged her into the center of the room. "Where is she?"

"Mmmmhhhfff!" When Remy removed his hand, she pushed the sodas towards him and began flexing her jaw where his grip had been. "What are we, like, some two-bit mobster movie or something? Or you gonna shine a spotlight into my face while interrogating me? That hurt, Remy."

"An' ya screechin' didn't?" He twisted a soda can from the pack and then tossed the rest over to Scott. After popping it open and taking a swig, he inquired again, "Where is she?"

"Downstairs, getting the cardboard boxes." She cried out in indignation when Remy reached for one of the sandwiches. "Hey, that's our lunch! Fifty bucks fine for any looters!"

"It is better t'give, petite."

"Yeah, and I'll just bet you were doing nothing but 'giving' in Rogue's underwear drawer."

"Oui. I was givin' myself de grand tour."

"That's not what she's gonna say," Kitty chirped in a singsong voice as she offered the food to Scott. "The way I see it, Rogue will beat you senseless... if she finds out."

"You tryin' t'say somet'in', chèrie?"

"I'm saying that Scott and I are, like, key witnesses to a crime." She smiled saccharinely. "Which means only one thing -- blackmail."

Remy snorted. "Ya got not'in'." He nodded in Scott's direction. "'Specially boy scout over dere. If he tries t'say anyt'in', I'll let it slip t'Jeannie dat he's got some o' her underwear stashed in his room."

"What?! I do not!"

"Ahh, but you could," Remy pointed out. "An' you will if you so much as peep anyt'in' t'Rogue." He turned to Kitty. "An' as f'r you, petite. How d'you t'ink Rogue'll feel when she hears 'bout dat li'l t'ing you promised me dis mornin' after de whole mouse incident, hmm?" His grin was sickeningly cocky.

"You wouldn't dare!" Kitty hissed.

"Try me."

Scott settled onto the foot of Rogue's bed, eating his sandwich and watching the other two occupants of the room square off. "You gotta admit, Kitty, he's got us pegged."

"You..." she seethed at her crimson-eyed teammate. "You nasty, pigheaded... arrogant little thief!"

"Yoah only boostin' his ego with words like that, Kit," Rogue declared from the door, dumping boxes onto the carpet. "Try callin' him an honest person with morals an' integrity, an' we can watch his head explode."

"You wound me, mignonne."

"An' yoah makin' mah life a livin' hell, swamp rat," she retorted. "Ah bet yoah th' one with th' bright idea ta shut th' door on me."

"Why is it always de Cajun boy dat's de first suspect?"

"Maybe because it usually is you?" Scott offered helpfully.

"Dat's beside de point..."

- oOo -

"Time?!" Kurt called out frantically, all but throwing another one of Evan's skateboards into the back of the closet.

"Dude! Be careful with that!" Evan started forward. But before he could go any further, Bobby stepped in front of him.

"Now, Evan, what did we discuss?" The tone he used sounded like a kindergarten teacher scolding an unruly student.

Evan scowled. "That I couldn't help with the closet."

"And why is that exactly?"

"Because I'd spend the entire time admiring the 'boards instead of actually cleaning up, thereby setting us back on time, and eventually leading to Logan's version of 101 Ways to Torture Teenagers," he recited dutifully, ending with a sigh.

"Good boy." Bobby looked around, patting Evan on the head as the other youth settled back onto the mattress. "Kurt, what did you do with those doggy treats we've been feeding him?"

"Shut up, man."

Kurt, in a near panic, cried, "Quit playing around, you guys! How much time do ve have until ze adults get home?"

Bobby glanced at the desk clock. "A little under an hour and a half."

"You're kidding?!" With little ceremony, he heaved the rest of Evan's skateboarding gear into the closet. "Okay, zat's ze last of it. Vhere's ze giveaway stuff?"

Evan held up a pair of slightly worn elbow pads.

"Zat's it?! Ve spent ze last three and a half hours cleaning zis room and zat's all you could come up with?"

Shrugging, Evan answered, "Hey, what can I say, man? My needs are simple. Just give me a solid 'board and some cool tunes and I'm good to go."

"I swear," the young German mumbled under his breath as he marched out of the room, "zis teamwork stuff is not one of Scott's brighter ideas."

- oOo -

"Jean, I said I was sorry!" pleaded Scott as he followed the angry redhead down the staircase. "I can only say it so many times!"

"Well, you can keep saying it until you're blue in the face, Scott Summers. I'm not speaking to you." Three cardboard boxes, filled to capacity, floated in the air immediately behind her, effectively preventing Scott from getting any closer. "And I'll thank you to keep your distance from me."

Ignoring the request, he pressed, "Jean, try and see things from my perspective. I'm a guy; what do I know about clothes?"

"You wear them, don't you?" she shot back as they entered the living room. She was mildly surprised to see Gambit already there, lounging in an armchair, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He was lazily flipping through a magazine.

"Yes, but I've never sorted them further than the 'shirts,' 'socks,' 'pants' and 'shoes' categories. I couldn't tell you the difference between royal blue, midnight blue and periwinkle if you explained it to me extensively in a ten-page report!" He turned to their as-of-yet silent observer and said, "Help me out here, Gambit."

"Sure t'ing," the Cajun replied looking up from the page he was skimming. "Midnight blue is a lot darker dan royal blue, an' periwinkle -- "

"You're not helping."

Remy nonchalantly returned to his reading. "Seriously, Jeannie, all you've got t'do is look at de homme t'know he's got no fashion sense."

"Hey!"

"I mean, look at him." He gestured vaguely in Scott's direction. "What's wit' dat shirt, Scottie? It's jus' as bad as de one I fished out o' Kitty's closet dis mornin'."

"I'll have you know this was a present from my -- "

"Let me guess -- godmother? What, she gon' put a gun t'ya head if you don' wear it? Honestly, mon ami, a bullet t'de brain is a lot better dan wearin' dat where people c'n see you."

Jean, who had been scrutinizing Scott's appearance throughout Remy's little speech, pursed her lips thoughtfully and said, "You know what? I think you're right, Remy. Thank you." She walked over to Scott and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. "You're forgiven. I won't ever ask you to help me sort through my wardrobe again." Smiling, she released him and then announced, "I'll go upstairs and get the rest of my boxes."

When she was gone, Scott turned to Remy. "I don't know if I should thank you for the save or punch you for the insult."

"Ya welcome t'start a fight, homme. It'd be a good excuse t'get ya girlfriend t'nurse you back t'health after I kick ya ass." He nodded to the second floor landing where Jean had already disappeared from view. "De rest o' her boxes? How many more does she have?"

"Six."

Remy's eyebrows shot up in question. "So dat means her closet's almost empty, non? She got rid o' most o' her stuff?

Sadly, Scott shook his head. "Only about a fourth. And I heard her talking to Kitty about a shopping spree next weekend."

Remy winced at that announcement. "Better make other plans real quick, Leader-Boy. Else you gon' find yaself smack-dab in boyfriend hell."

"Speaking of which," Scott said, changing the topic. "Where's Rogue? I thought she and Kitty were finished with their room already?"

The other teen pointed a finger skyward, indicating the floor above them. "'Freshin' up aftah all that unjust slavery.'" He imitated Rogue's Mississippi accent to perfection. "She's takin' a shower. Unfortunately, she won't let me watch."

"And I bet you're just devastated by that fact," remarked Scott dryly as he took a seat on the couch.

"Positively heartbroken."

- oOo -

I'm, like, pretty sure she's gonna kill me. She's gotten back at people for things that could be considered pinpricks compared to this. What in the world was I thinking promising this to Remy? I mean, I'm, like, a fairly smart person. Where was my brain when I really needed it? I think it's safe to say that I'm gonna be one dead cat before the night is over. If I'm lucky she'll only kill me once, and not "twenty ways from Sunday" like she usually promises. Maybe it'll be quick and painless, with as little bloodshed and torture as possible. And if I'm really lucky, maybe she'll even let me say my goodbyes first, too.

Kitty sighed as she reached into the chest of drawers. Like, who'm I kidding? This is Rogue I'm talking about here!

She's gonna kill me...

- oOo -

"Are we gonna make it?!" Bobby yelled as he threw yet another load of clothing into one of his dresser drawers. "Well? Are we?"

Evan glanced up. "We will if we get done in the next thirty minutes, man." Turning to Kurt, who was standing with him next to the closet, he asked, "Ready?"

Kurt nodded, holding up a rolled-up sleeping bag in front of him as if it were a shield. "Ja."

"Okay, here we go." Evan carefully opened the closet door, allowing only a few inches space. "Hurry! Start pushing!"

"I can't! You're going to have to open ze door wider!"

"No can do, man. Any wider and we'll be dealing with an avalanche of the non-Brotherhood variety!"

Bobby stopped for a moment to observe them. "Wouldn't it have been easier if you geniuses put the sleeping bag in before everything else?"

"Vouldn't it have been easier if you didn't have so much useless junk?"

"Oh, I'm getting heat from a guy with a Home-TV-Shopping addiction?"

"Zey were all very good deals!" Kurt shot back hotly, momentarily weakening his hold on the sleeping bag. His lack of attention caused several items to come tumbling out of the gap, one of which nearly crashed into Evan's foot.

"Dude! For the love of crap -- focus! I almost lost my big toe to that Magic Eight Ball!"

Kurt returned to the task of cramming the last item into the already full storage space. "I thought ze point of zis day was to get rid our things," he heaved. "Vhy does it seem like Bobby has gotten more stuff without even trying?"

"'Cause most of this junk was on the floor when we started?" Evan proposed, putting all of his weight against the protesting wood.

"Are you guys talking behind my back in front of me?" asked Bobby, joining in the struggle. Resting his shoulder against the unwilling sleeping bag, he helped Kurt pack it in the remaining few inches. With a reverberating slam, they were finally able to shut the closet door.

"You think it'll give?" questioned Evan with a clear expression of worry on his face. "With all that junk we shoved in there..."

"Ve don't really have a choice now. Ze adults vill be home soon."

"Maybe we should lock it... just in case." Bobby walked over to his nightstand and extracted a small brass key from the drawer. Inserting it into the appropriate hole, he twisted it with a click. "There. I think we're done." He turned to grin at his teammates. "Now who said we couldn't clean three rooms in one day?"

"Umm... zat would be you, mein freund."

Bobby shrugged. "Yeah, but what do I know?"

- oOo -

"'I have homework I need to take care of'?"

Remy shook his head. "It makes you sound like you want t'study..." His eyes glanced over to Scott. "But den again, you like doin' dat, don' you?"

"What about 'I have plans with the guys'?"

"Looks like dey're more important t'you dan her an' her shoppin' needs."

"I could always pull the 'I don't feel so good' routine."

"Den you'll have t'make good on dat." At Scott's curious look, Remy explained further. "Ya gon' have t' act sick so she'll buy it -- f'r an entire day at de very least. Dat means no leader duties an' no Danger Room sessions." The young Cajun almost laughed at the crestfallen expression on Scott's face.

"Well, what would you do if Rogue asked you to go shopping with her?"

"Ahh, dat's de beauty o' my girl, Scottie, she ain't de shoppin' type. I don' have such problems."

"Okay, what would you do if you had my problem?"

"I'd see a specialist 'cause I'm guessin' dat stick up ya ass hurts."

One of the throw pillows somehow found a way to slam into Remy's face... hard.

A grin flashed. "Sensitive 'bout de stick, eh?" Remy casually tossed the pillow back onto the couch next to Scott.

"What if I tell her I can't go shopping because I'm planning something special for her?"

Remy nodded his approval. "Pretty good, Summers. 'Course ya gon' actually have t'do somet'in' special t'cover yaself -- "

A sharp scream caught their attention. They both turned to stare up the staircase. Hard footsteps could be heard pounding rhythmically against the carpet. They didn't have to wait long to recognize the cause.

Kitty, with a flushed face and a slightly fearful look, raced down towards them. Screeching to a halt in front of Gambit, she thrust a small object into his hands. In what seemed like a single breath, she blurted, "Here. She, like, nearly got me in the back of the head with a hairbrush. I'm lucky she had to stop and get dressed before she came after me 'cause she would've caught me for sure since I can't, like, use my powers with that thing. We're square now, right? Deal's over and done with?"

Before Remy could reply, a voice boomed from the upstairs landing. "Katherine Pryde, you are so deader than dead!" Rogue's still-wet hair flew out behind her as she descended the steps three at a time.

"Shoot! Gotta go!" Kitty quickly activated her intangibility and ran through the wall into the next room.

"You ain't gettin' away that easy, you li'l snitch!"

"You're stirring up trouble again, LeBeau?" Scott asked as he watched Rogue disappear after her fleeing roommate.

"Always, mon ami... always."

"Always what?" questioned Jean as she came into the living room, telekinetically setting the last of her boxes next to the fireplace.

"Always the wild card," Scott replied. More footsteps sounded from the second floor and they were soon joined by Kurt, Evan and Bobby. "Finished, guys?"

Kurt looked hurt. "Vas zere ever any doubt zat we would finish?"

"Actually, there was every doubt that you would finish."

Clutching at his chest in agony, Bobby cried dramatically, "Oh, the pain of knowing our fearless leader has such little faith in us! How will we ever go on?"

"Like, give it up, Rogue! You can't even touch me when I'm phasing!" Kitty yelled as she ran past the living room.

"You can't keep that up fo'ever, sweetheart! An' as soon as yoah solid, yoah dead!"

Evan shot a thumb in their direction. "What's up with them?"

"That's something you should ask Gambit," Scott told him, facing their Cajun teammate for an explanation.

Remy simply grinned mischievously.

Pointing to the object in Gambit's hand, Kurt inquired, "Vat's zat?"

"Payment," he evasively answered.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you even going to check it? How do you know Kitty didn't hold out on you?"

"If Rogue is this pissed at whatever's in his hand, then I'd say Kitty did what she was supposed to do... whatever that was," Bobby commented, following the girls' mad dash around the first floor as best he could. He winced when Rogue almost slammed into an end table after a particularly sharp turn.

"Well?" Evan demanded. "Are you gonna show us or what?"

"'Course not, homme. Dis is private." Remy lifted the item so that he could look it over, successfully shielding it from the others' view. He glanced down at his reward and nearly dropped to his knees in shock. "Mon Dieu."

There, on the screen of Kitty's digital camera, was a clear picture of Rogue -- or more specifically, Rogue stepping out of the shower in nothing but a crisp white towel. One hand gingerly held the scant cloth to her chest, barely covering what needed to be covered, as her head tilted slightly to the side, eyes downcast to carefully watch her step. Her cinnamon and cream hair was slicked back with moisture, while the steam from the hot water wafted around her body like silent ghosts. Struck speechless, Remy could do nothing but gape at the image.

Until he heard a loud gasp from behind him.

Whirling around, he came face to face with Kurt, who had apparently teleported behind him to get a glimpse at what was so "private."

"You... pervert!" he yelled, anger flashing in his yellow eyes. "Zat's my sister!"

Remy was off like a shot, camera firmly in his grasp. "Mon ami, you got t'calm down..." He barely prevented himself from colliding with Kitty, who was running in the opposite direction. "It's not what you t'ink!"

"Really? So vat is it zen if not you ogling my sister?"

Throwing his pursuer a smirk from over his shoulder, Remy called out, "Okay, so maybe it is what you t'ink, but you got not'in' t'worry 'bou-- " He stopped short when Kurt materialized before him in a sulfur-scented cloud. "Merde." Twisting his body around, he ran back the way he came, with Kurt in hot pursuit.

"Do you think we should stop them?" Evan wondered, as he, Bobby, Scott and Jean watched the chaos unfold.

Bobby shook his head. "Nah. I'm sure they'll get tired eventual-- "

An explosion echoed from the kitchen.

"Is zat ze best you can do?"

Another explosion sounded. Followed by another. And then another.

"Gambit! Stop throwing cards!" yelled Scott.

"Oh my God! Kitty, watch out!" Jean telekinetically caught the porcelain vase that the young brunette had accidentally run into.

"This is getting out of hand. Jean, can you stop them?"

"All four of them? Not likely, Scott."

"Come back here, Kit-Kat! You'll only die once, Ah can promise you that much!"

"Want me to ice 'em?"

"And add even more problems when it all melts? No thanks." Scott sighed. "Looks like we're rounding them up the old-fashioned way. C'mon. Let's do this before the adults get back home."

"Too late fer that, bub."

Almost reluctantly, the foursome that was not ushering in World War III turned toward the foyer. Logan, Ororo and Professor Xavier stood just inside the doorway with decidedly displeased expressions on their faces.

"You think their mood would lighten a little if we told them that all our rooms are clean?" Bobby whispered from the corner of his mouth.

A distinct crash suddenly rang throughout the mansion. Evan had no doubt about whose room it came from.

"Man, I'm thinking that's a no."

----

Whew! Well, that does it for Spring Cleaning. I have ideas for other Madness-es, but right now I think I need to get back into the Rogue/Remy groove of things. : )