Disclaimer: This is destined to be a waste of space on this web page, like the ads. ;) Anyhoo, I don't own X-men: Evolution, Warner Brothers and their creators do, along with the artists who created the original X-men. I'm just here to amuse ya'll.
IMPORTANT A/N: An explanation of sorts, really. The lyrics you will see on this page are of one of my favorite songs, mainly because it strikes particularly true of me. To any girl out there who doesn't agree with these lyrics- well, we know who you are. You're the one getting sung about. ;P The point is, all I'm asking is that, along with reading the story, you also read the lyrics. I know there are probably some out there who already do that, but to the ones that don't, for this one time please do.
Bold: Thinking
Italics: Lyrics
Don't make me tell you what regular font is. XD
Rated T for a reason. They're teenagers. They won't be saying 'darn' or 'gosh' any more, except to joke. ;P
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! (Also, no specific pairings, but there is a lot of insinuation. Just a warning, too, but while there won't be any really nasty bashing going on, but Jean will not be put in the happiest of lights. At first. But before you all run away, don't worry, I assure you, the opinions will be changed. Well, for the most part. .')
$4$
Rogue Darkholme lay sprawled out on the Rec Room's plush black leather armchair. (1) And in her lap rested a ridiculously warm laptop she had 'borrowed' off of the youngest recruit, Jaime. Okay, so she really stole a little of Kitty's powers and phased through Jaime's room, picking up his computer on the way out.
She dangled her long legs off of the edge of the chair, which, instead of being typically clad in dark green tights, were now bare, along with her upper arms and hands. After all, why would she need any cover when she knew she was the only one up? It was 1 A.M. for God's sake; nobody but her would be up at this ridiculous hour.
You wouldn't need to be up this late if weren't such a God damned procrastinator, her subconscious reminded her slyly. It was true. She hadn't done a freakin' thing all weekend long, and now here she was, Sunday night (or Monday morning, depending on your point of view) cramming a 6-page essay into 4 hours. (2) If there was a God in this horribly off-centered world, she sure as hell hoped he could cram one last miracle in before packing it up for the day.
Just as she was about to start on page 3 (damn it all to God damn hell!), the door to the main entrance way ((1) again) creaked open, causing Rogue to jump so high she nearly fell off the couch, which would've meant an unfortunate end to poor Jaime's laptop. Gripping the arm of the couch so tightly, she probably left permanent marks on the leather, she craned her neck to see who had the audacity to actually sneak into the Mutant Manor at this time of night (or day, if you so preferred).
Small town Homecoming Queen
She's the star in this scene
There's no way to deny she's lovely
As Rogue's eyes focused on the figure, she heard a light giggle, which eliminated the chance of it being a guy, which shocked Rogue even more. What girl here would ever risk her tail on something as petty as staying out late on a Sunday night when she could easily do the exact same thing on Saturday without getting much more serious repercussions? If this had been the Brotherhood, she could understand. Rules were meant to be ignored for that reason and that reason only. But it wasn't. So what was up?
It wasn't until the door fully shut that Rogue's eyes finally adjusted to the sight she was seeing. But, that's impossible- She felt her eyes widen on the giggling figure as it all clicked. There,and dressed, instead of her mandatory Abercrombie and Fitch, but, instead, in a black leather mini and green sequin halter, complete with 3-inch heels with strings that wrapped all the way up her calves up to her knees, was Jean. Oh, but not some random Jean from her school, oh no, this was Yes-That's-My-Natural-Color (3), Miss Mutant of America, Princess Jean Grey, in all her red-haired glory.
"Jean?"
Perfect skin, perfect hair
Perfumed hearts everywhere
Tell myself that inside she's ugly
Jean- yes, that was right, Jean- straightened up, laughing no more, and squinted. "Who's there?" she mumbled with a slight slur. This couldn't be possible. Not only was Jean decked out in total party wear, including heels it seemed she could barely stand in, let alone walk in, but it also seemed she was under the influence.
Okay, I could see Jean wanting to party, Rogue mentally rationalized, but to not only party on a Sunday, until 1 A.M., and come back drunk, well, that's just a little too out-of-the-realm-of-any-possibility for me. Shaking her suspicions aside, Rogue set her computer down (Jaime's computer) and slid off the couch, standing. "Jean,"Rogue began, not surprisingly, a little suspicious. "What are you doing? W-Why are you comin' back to the Manor at 1 A.M.?"
Jean continued to squint, taking an unsteady step towards the younger girl. Only, as she did, her legs nearly gave out on her and she was forced to clutch the wall as her only means of support. Steadying herself and trying in vain to stay upright, she managed to choke out, "Rogue? You're not supposed to be up! It's 1 A.M.! The Professor will be mad at you!"
Rogue, not wanting to point out the irony Jean's concern, instead focused on why the redhead was speaking in a ridiculously loud whisper. "Jean-" she began, but Jean cut her off, putting a finger to her mouth and shushed her in what she guessed was supposed to be hushed, but really was quite loud. Jean laughed nearly knocking herself over, but Rogue caught her, wondering what the hell she had done to deserve this kind of torture.
Maybe I'm just jealous, I can't help but hate her
Secretly I wonder if my boyfriend wants to date her
"Oh, Rogue-y, have you seen Scott-y? O-M-G, I have met the cutest girl for him to meet! Only, you cannot tell him, because-" (4) Jean was unable to finish her line of reasoning, much to Rogue's pleasure, as her eyes turned roughly the size of saucers and her face, usually a lovely tan, turned instead to a sickly green. She gasped, clutching her mouth and spun, only to stick her head in the closest receptacle- one of Ororo's potted plants.
Rogue tried not to snort in disgust, but failed so instead busied herself in pulling all of Jeans long red hair so as not to get any puke on it. What, so it's bad enough that she has to be prettier than me, smarter than me, and able to touch anyone she wants (not that she can really control any of that, really), but really? Do I have to resort to pulling back Princess's hair just so she won't get any puke on it while she's yakking in one of Ro's plants?
As soon as Rogue was sure Jean was done with her conversation with the vegetation, she walked Jean, leaning heavily on her shoulder, over to the companion piece of the leather chair, a black leather loveseat, and laid Jean down on it. She rolled her eyes as the older girl groaned and turned on her heel, flicking on the radio (the volume turned down so as to prevent anyone upstairs from hearing) as she passed.
"She is the prom queen, I'm in the marching band
She is a cheerleader, I'm sitting in the stands"
Rogue's lip upturned and she thought many impure things in the direction of the radio, which seemed to be amusing itself in mocking her. The irony of the situation was apparently too great for the idiot whose idea it was to think it up, as he or she, for some God-awful reason, just as Rogue reached over to shut the damned thing off, Jean shifted, murmuring, "Don't change it. I like this song."
Rogue rolled her eyes, sneering. "Oh, of course you do."
"She's gets the top bunk, while I'm sleeping on the floor,
She's Miss America
While I'm just the girl next door."
Jean struggled to sit up, but when no help came, she settled for simply resting her head against the leather pillows the chair was made with. "Rogue, I know you don't like me much," Jean said, coughing a little, her voice still slurred from whatever drinks she had had earlier that night, "but I appreciate the fact that you're dealing with me right now while I am, err, otherwise occupied." She said this all pretty coherently, but by the time she was finished, her face was once again tinged with green.
Rogue, not wanting to get puke all over the new carpet (which they had recently installed after Roberto and Bobby got into an argument involving spray cheese, ketchup, and mayo(5)), jumped up, snatching the closest garbage can, practically throwing it at Jean just as the girl began to hurl. Rogue sighed and picked up the computer before sitting back down in the plush armchair. She added a sentence or two as she waited for Jean to finish her retching.
"Senior class president,
She must be heaven sent
She never was the last one standing"
Rogue rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly as Jean finally stopped puking, only to retch seconds later. "How much did you eat? Ah mean, ain't'cha heaved all yet?" Jean swallowed, turning, alternatively, a pinky grey before stuffing her head back in the garbage can to throw up some more.
When she thought she was done, Jean picked her head up, pushing aside some of her long red hair as she did. "Well, if it's any consolation, I think I'm down to what I had for breakfast," she joked weakly. Rogue didn't smile, but stood up, setting down her computer (Jaime's computer, she kept forgetting) for the second time, and grabbed another garbage can, along with a box of tissues. She handed Jean the tissues and took the used can, replacing it with the clean one. Jean looked up at her. "Thank you," she murmured, wiping the sweat from her face and sitting up a little better.
"A backseat debutante
Everything that you want
Never too harsh or too demanding"
"But what Ah wanna know is," Rogue said sensibly, plopping down into the chair and grabbing the laptop once more, "Where in the hell have you been, and what in the hell were you doin' in that getup?" She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, adding, as if to rationalize, "Ah mean, you're dressed like me if Ah could touch people. It ain't exactly similar to your normal clothin' choice." Jean smiled and blushed up to her roots.
"Well…" she broke eye contact, and giggled, showing she still was, if only slightly, under the influence of whatever the hell she had drunk tonight. "I-I met… someone." She smiled a little brighter, looking like the everyday Jean, if it wasn't for her slightly sweaty face, limp hair, and abnormal attire. And while the way Jean could still look just as pretty sweaty and in ridiculously tight clothes still greatly annoyed Rogue, she had to admit, she could understand where Jean was coming from. Any girl could.
Rogue smiled, trying not to get angry at the sick woman lying across from her, but still couldn't help but question aloud, "Fine, Ah can understand dressin' to impress when ya meet a cutie, but why on a Sunday night when you can easily go on a Saturday? Also, why get drunk when you know Logan's been on our cases 'bout comin' here drunk ever since Amara had one too many Jello shots at that football playa's house?" (6)
"Maybe I'll admit it
I'm a little bitter
Everybody loves her
But I just wanna hit her"
Rogue tried hard not to smirk as the lyrics poured through the radio, but to no avail. Ironic as it was, the song rung true in more than one way. Jean smiled as well, understanding the evident humor. "As much as it may surprise you, Rogue," she said, shooting the younger woman a wise look before continuing on, "I do get what she's singing about, as unlikely as it seems. The guy I, um, met with tonight was dating a model before me. A model!"
She threw up her hands and laughed semi-hysterically, finishing, "I know you're probably thinking I'm horrible for bringing it up, because I'm sure you must think that the only type of woman who could be prettier than I would be, I dunno, a model, but it really isn't like that. I'm saying this because I'm trying to tell you that I do understand how it's hard to compete with someone you think is prettier than you when you're already feeling like crap."
Once Jean finished her little tirade, Rogue narrowed her eyes. "Is that what you really think, Jean?" She asked, standing up shakily. It didn't occur to her that now she was now the one who could be considered semi-hysterical as she ranted on, "You think that the reason Ah dislahke you so much is 'cuz Ah think you're prettier than me? Well, while you may have a point, that ain't just it, sugah. It's not that you just gotta be prettier than me, no, but ya also gotta be smarter, and stronger, and more popular, and then you've gotta act all buddy-buddy, lahke you really undahstand (understand) me. Well, newsflash, Princess, 'cuz ya don't. Ya can't. Ah bet that ta-nahte (tonight) was the first nahte that you evah even got drunk. So don't think of evah condahscendin' (condescending) to converse with someone as inferior as mahself."
"She is the prom queen, I'm in the marching band
She is a cheerleader, I'm sitting in the stands"
Jean sat up on her elbows, smiling slightly, and asked quietly, "Do you know your accent only becomes stronger when you're more enraged?" Rogue contemplated flinging Jean by her long, prefect red hair and into the Rec Room's 70" Plasma TV. Jean's smile faltered when she realized Rogue only grew angrier.
"Rogue, you know I'm just kidding, don't you?" She didn't wait for Rogue to respond, but went on to add, "Rogue, as much as you don't want to admit it, I understand you. You and I, we're not that different. We both want something we can't have and we can't do a damned thing about it." She held up a hand. "And yes, I am aware I just cursed. The point is, I get you. I do. You've just gotta let me in if you want to understand."
"She gets the top bunk, while I'm sleeping on the floor,
She's Miss America
And I'm just the girl next door."
Rogue's eyes narrowed to slits. "Oh yeah? An' what if Ah don't wanna 'undahstand'?" She said sarcastically, using air quotes to prove her point, but really making her seem more frenzied. Jean noted Rogue's choice in clothing while she was standing. The brunette wore a large grey t-shirt that ended mid-thigh and reminded Jean of what she wore each night to sleep. What was even more surprising was that was all Rogue was wearing, with the exception of a pair of white ankle socks. No tights or elbow-length gloves, no undershirts or long skirts. She was dressed… well, like, a girl her age should dress. Relaxed, uncovered, bare.
"Rogue, it doesn't matter. Look at the way you're dressed. A tee and a pair of socks. That's it. That's all you should need to wear. But you can't, because your powers don't allow you to be open like the rest of us. That's why you cover your whole body but dress darkly. You can't be open, so you don't let anyone open up to you. But whether you realize it or not, I'm like you. Only, I'm so busy trying to be everyone's best friend that I can't be anything but perfect. Or open. I spend so much time acting like I care, and want the best for everyone that I lose sight of myself and lose the ability to be open because I'm too busy making everyone else feel happy. And cared for. And open."
"I don't know why I'm feeling sorry for myself
Spending all my time wishing I was someone else"
Futilely, Rogue tried to focus on the singer's wail, and block Jean's reasoning. Was it possible that Miss Perfect was just like she was? But it couldn't be. Rogue was nothing like Jean. Wasn't she?
"Awraght (Alright), let's jus' say, hypothetically, that ya gotta point and yer really lahke me. But why? Yer perfect, ya said it yerself. An' everybody loves you. So wha (why) can't ya jus' tell 'em ta leave ya alone, or jus' tell the Prof. 'bout yer problems?"
Jean looked her straight in the eye. "The same reason you never tell Professor X about your 'problems'," she replied, mocking Rogue with the same air quotations with her fingers. "And you can't tell people to back off or even listen, for that matter, because you're too busy pushing them away." Rogue opened her mouth to retort, only to find she couldn't think one up and promptly shut it.
"She is the prom queen, I'm in the marching band
She is a cheerleader, I'm sitting in the stands
She's gets the top bunk, while I'm sitting on the floor
She's Miss America
And I'm just the girl next door."
Glowering angrily, Rogue practically flung herself onto the couch next to Jean, who hastily pulled her legs up to prevent them from being crushed (accidentally or purposefully, Jean didn't want to know). She crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled incoherently. Finally, she threw her hands in the air exasperatedly and snapped, "Well, what'd they expect? Nobody ever tries to undahstand me, 'cuz they think Ah'll push 'em away." She paused, mulling things over for a moment before exploding again, adding, "Not that Ah wouldn't push them away, but still, the novelty's still there."
"I get a little bit, she gets a little more
She's Miss America
I'm just the girl next door"
"Rogue? Jean?"
Scott, Kitty, Ororo, and Logan all wandered in to the Rec Room, all looking equally tired and Logan especially looking pissed off. "What in the hell are you two still up?" Logan snapped, glaring at them.
Jean giggled and Rogue threw her hands in the air once again and stood up. "Before any'a'ya (any of you) can blame this on me, Ah was just workin' on mah- err, the computer- when Jean came in an'-" Rogue stopped short, thinking about what she was about to say. "Err, umm, what Ah meant, was Jean came down from her room an' we started talkin' an' before ya knew it, it's 1:30!"
Ororo looked at Rogue tiredly. "Child, it's not 1:30."
"It's… not?"
"It's 2:30."
Jean and Rogue muttered apologies (well, Rogue muttered, Jean apologized more than enough for the two of them), and just as they began their trek up the stairs, Scott grabbed Rogue's arm (the upper shoulder, wisely, as it was covered by her tee), pulling her aside. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she looked up at her leader's shaded eyes.
Scott seemed to be mulling something over in his head for a moment or two before finally leaning closer to Rogue, murmuring, "R-Rogue? Umm… Can-can you please just answer a quick question for me?" Rogue's eyes widen even more, nodding slightly, and stepped closer to him.
"Yes? What is it, Scott?"
"Can… You tell me, am I imagining things or is… Is Jean really wearing that?"
"Yeah, yeah, oh, I'm just the girl next door
She is the prom queen
Yeah, yeah, and I'm just the girl next door."
It had been known, from that moment on, that that was the first thing to make Rogue laugh since Apocalypse, so hard, in fact, that she had to physically lean against Scott to prevent herself from falling over. It was also known, that after the hilarity was over, Rogue refused to speak to Scott for a month, and refused to tell him why, in particular, she ignored him every time he chose to spoke to her.
And, when he asked Jean (who, prior to the conversation, had been informed, by Rogue, of Scott's idiocy) to why she was so reluctant to even look his way, let alone speak to him, she refused to give a straight answer, claiming only that he "deserved what he got" and he "should just suck it up" and "be a man".
Most muse that that particular set of incidents was, in fact, the beginning of Mutant Manor's version of the "war of the sexes".
$4$
(1): Okay, I don't actually remember the way the X Manor was built and I was too lazy to actually look on Google© to see if a loon out there actually made up schematics of the cartoon's building, so I improvised. Same with later, when I mentioned the fact that Rogue can see from the Rec Room into the foyer and main entranceway. The way I see it, if you were to stand in the entranceway/foyer, the stairs to the X-men's rooms would be straight ahead, the hallway to the labs/Prof.'s office/etc. would be on the left directly next to the stairs (the right next to the stairs would be a dead end, I do remember that from the cartoon), the far left would be the room to the kitchen/dining hall(s), and in the far right room would be the Recreation Room, or Rec Room. I hope I cleared things up enough. ;)
(2): Does anybody else have one of these due right now? Mine is 6 to 8 pages, along with 10 1-page journal entries on the book we read to inspire us to write the essay, along with a PowerPoint© to clear up whatever thoughts of a relaxing Spring Break (which I'm on now as we speak ;P) we might have. But hey, I'm not complaining. XP
(3): I admit it, I did not think that up on my own. I remember that as one of the lines Tabitha said to, I think Amara, in response to hearing Jean's name. Well, I figured, who better to think it than the girl who professes to hate Jean Grey the most?
(4): This was too funny for me to think up. I think, when Jean gets drunk, the mentality of the "good" Jean is lost and replaced with an "evil" psycho Kitty/Valley Girl 'tude. I dunno, I just found it hilarious to write.
(5): I'm not the only one with idiot brothers and cousins who typically partake in fighting with condiments? Probably not, but since I already had an example to give on what happened to the carpet (as the same fate fell to our carpet), I put it in.
(6): Again, another example fuelled from someone I know. This time, it was my best friend's little sister with Jello shots at the star soccer player's house. And she ruined their carpet, too, come to think of it.
I know, quite a few footnotes, but I had quite a few reasonings behind this kooky story. I don't know what kind of story you want to call it, there's almost no romance until a bare taste of it at the very end, but I don't even think you can count it. There's no way you could ever consider this action or even adventure, as this all takes place in the Manor, and is basically some arguments and a couple of conversations. It ain't angst, 'cuz I have never, in my life, written an 'angst' fic, and it really isn't that funny (or at least I think so), at least enough to put it under 'Humor', it's not a parody, or a poem, so I don't know where to put it.
Or right now, it will be under 'Humor' and 'Drama'. If someone has a better idea, please tell me, I'd really like to know. And while you're reviewing me to give me better ideas, you can tell me whether or not you liked my fic, and what I need to fix and what I need to keep the same. Thanks!
Oh, and, I'll be on vacation for a couple of days. I'll probably bring my laptop, but in case I don't or aren't able to check my e-mail, I won't be able to respond until about Friday. See you then.