I Hate Mondays

Chapter 1: Frosty

By

The Uncanny R-Man

And

Anything but ordinary

Disclaimer- We don't own anything, all familiar characters belong to Marvel.

Notes- This is set before all that Xorn-is-actually-Magneto-in-disguise business and as such, Jean Greay is still alive and Scott and Emma haven't had their telepathic affair yet. Also, as with many of my other fics, this contains mild Jean and Scott bashing, you have been warned.


Emma Frost's day started as it always did, with Scott Summers waking everybody up at an ungodly hour for a Danger Room session. Fortunately, Scott knew better than to knock on Emma's door and request her attendance. Unfortunately for the others, 'request' in Scott Summers's dictionary meant 'command.' Not that it really mattered, nobody took any notice of him and most of the time the only other people in the Danger Room with him were Jean, she didn't have a life anyway, and Logan, who only joined these sessions with Scott to point out the fact that nobody took any notice of him.

Emma cursed the day that Scott was born as she reluctantly got up out of bed and padded over to her en suite bathroom. She usually liked to listen to the radio while she had a shower so she switched on the shower radio to her usual station. Unfortunately, the song playing on the radio was one that Emma hated almost as much as she hated a certain redheaded telepath. As soon as the opening lines of 'Billy Jean' started, Emma ripped the radio from the wall and threw it out of the window. She smiled evilly as she heard the sound of metal and plastic breaking on somebody's head.

'Ow, my head!' Jean yelled.

'Sorry, dear.' Emma called out the window with mock sincerity. 'My hand slipped.'

And with that, Emma went back to her shower.

After getting dressed into her usual attire of reverse X-Bra and white leather hot pants, Emma decided to run the gauntlet to go get something to eat.
Breakfast in Xavier's, as Emma often said, was like feeding time at the zoo, but without the table manners. And Emma's comments were proven correct when she saw the chaos in the kitchen. There were ice patches all over the floor, feathers in the coffee pot; discarded cigar butts on the floor and somebody had relieved themselves in Emma's favourite coffee mug.

Emma simply ignored the chaos around her and walked over to where she kept her spare coffee cups. She picked one up with the slogan 'Being a Bitch Isn't a Job, it's a Privilege!' and waited for the coffee pot to brew. Emma impatiently drummed her fingers against the counter; there were places that she'd rather be and things that she'd rather do than in a kitchen full of ill-mannered mutants, in the dungeon of the Hellfire Club being Selene's kinky sex monkey for one.

The coffee finally brewed and Emma grabbed up the pot before the others noticed. Unfortunately, Bobby Drake heard the sound of coffee being brewed and spun his head around in Emma's direction.

'Coffee!' He hissed. 'Preciosss coffee...'

The sight that ensued was like something out of a zombie movie as several grown mutants were overcome with the pangs of coffee addiction and lurched towards Emma like the brain-eating undead. Fortunately, Emma managed to fight her way from under the pile of mutants with her coffee still in the cup. She walked out of the room but not without casting a glance behind her to revel in the chaos that she had caused. And what chaos it was, everybody was fighting over the last drop of coffee. Adamantium claws were unsheathed; optic blasts uh... blasted, snowballs thrown... Unfortunately, one of these snowballs hit Emma on the back of the head which made her drop her cup on the floor, smashing it and spilling the precious fluid. Emma spun around to glare at the person that had thrown said frozen projectile.

Bobby Drake let out an 'eep!' of fear as the White Queen advanced on him with murder in his eyes.

Outside, Hank McCoy was on his way to grab his morning Twinkie supplement when he heard the sound of diamond on ice emanating form the kitchen. He quickly spun on his heel and walked the other way; his Twinkie addiction could be satiated later.


Later-

Emma was relaxing in the rec room watching trashy soap operas and eating Sugar Bombs straight out of the box. She also had a face pack on her face, hey; you can never be too beautiful! Emma had the whole mansion to herself as after the little fracas in the kitchen Scott had his first original thought since... ever and quickly sent the X-Men on a mission while those that were left took the students on a field trip.

Emma revelled in the quiet of the mansion. She scratched her butt and burped quite loudly, things that she'd never do with other people around.

The trashy soap opera had just reached a rather juicy part when Emma heard the sound of banging coming from the front door. She cursed under her breath and sent out a telepathic summons for somebody to answer it. Unfortunately, she was the only one in the mansion and had to get up from her comfy recliner and pad over to the front door clad in her fluffy bunny slippers. She quickly gave the person at the door a quick telepathic scan to make sure that they weren't selling something. The last door-to-door salesman that was foolish enough to try to sell anything soon found themselves being used as target practice by some of the more unruly students.

The telepathic scan soon revealed the person to be harmless so Emma opened the door and much to her shock she was almost knocked to the floor by a six foot weretiger clad only in a black bikini that made Emma's usual attire seem conservative. Yup, it was Tigra!

Emma looked down at the unconscious weretiger in her arms, dripping blood all down her leather hot pants. She reached to the other woman's wrist to find a pulse and couldn't help but wonder how she got into such a state, not that she really cared you understand.

'Do you mind?' Emma asked Tigra, even though the former Avenger was obviously unconscious and bleeding quite profusely from several bullet wounds. 'These leather hot pants weren't expensive you know.'

TBC...