A/N: Hey y'all, I'm sorry this fic fails the Bechdel test so hard, but uh.

ALSO: Thank you so much for all of y'all's incredible patience, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter if you're still sticking with this fic! I have just finished my final semester of undergraduate university, so this year has been very stressful and all of my writing has been focused on finishing a huge original writing piece for a final project, so I haven't been writing any fanfiction at all.

That being said, I am posting this chapter now and also letting y'all know that Chapter 9 will be coming ASAP. Thanks guys, I love y'all.

Chapter 8: December 16 and 17

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…

Kitty whips around to face the girls squeezed onto Rogue's bed and gestures dramatically. "Thank you for coming. I'm sure you're wondering why I've gathered you all here today."

Wanda stands up and starts for the door. Kitty phases through her and solidifies before she can reach for the handle. "Nope!" Kitty says, throwing up her hands. "You're gonna hear me out."

Wanda looks incredulous, possibly because Wanda Maximoff is Wanda Maximoff, and don't you ever forget it. Her power is so off the scale ridiculous that just being in the same room as her feels like drinking a 5-Hour Energy. She's sharing a room with Pietro in the mansion because she gets nightmares and Pietro is the only person fast enough to dodge when she wakes up slinging hexes.

Kitty stares her down and taps her tiny foot until Wanda backs up and sits down next to Rogue. "Whatever," she mutters.

"As I was saying," Kitty starts.

"Why is everyone sitting on my bed?" Rogue interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks grumpy, which is kind of Rogue's thing. She must have just been getting to a good part in The Roguish Rake's Revenge when Kitty stole it.

Accidentally, of course.

"Focus, people!" Kitty claps her hands and ignores the eye rolls she receives in return. "We have a mystery to solve!"

"Whaaaaat?" Tabby groans. "I could be making eggnog, so this better be good."

"Remy is up to something," Kitty says, which gets everyone's attention. There are a few things that will always get Jubilee, Tabby, Amara, and Rogue interested in the same topic: hot guys, explosions, and a high likelihood of someone getting in trouble with the Professor. Remy just so happens to hit every one of those points.

"He and Piotr and Kurt and Bobby have been sneaking around for days, and now they've dragged the Brotherhood boys into whatever it is they're doing."

"And you need to know what that is… why?" Wanda asks, picking at her nail polish. Kitty gives her an annoyed look.

"Because! We're a team! We're friends! I hate it when people keep secrets from me! Us. We shouldn't keep secrets!"

"What if it's Christmas secrets, Kitty?" Rogue asks tiredly. "They could be planning something for the Institute celebration."

"The Brotherhood?"

Rogue frowns, because that's a good point. Kitty congratulates herself for it and then gets back on task. "Listen, I know I sound crazy, but I swear, Remy is hiding something big. And I think we should find out what it is! Who's with me?" She looks around at all of them and holds out her hand like she's asking them to dance.

"Count me out," Wanda says, standing up and strolling out the door without a backwards glance. This is somewhat disheartening, but Kitty gives the rest of them a hopeful look and Rogue rolls her eyes but gets up to join her.

"Stop it with the hand thing," she orders, and Kitty obeys because small victories. Rogue sighs. "I guess I do want to know where Remy's been all week," she says.

Of course she does. Kitty bites her tongue before she can scoff about Rogue's painfully obvious pining. Maybe she should mention that Remy is doing basically the exact same thing, no matter what he's been up to lately. But no, she can't. For one thing, Rogue probably wouldn't believe it, because Rogue is not someone who takes other people's word for anything.

For another, where's the romance in that?

"So? You in?" she asks.

"Fine," Rogue agrees, grudgingly. Emma stands up, shrugging.

"I suppose I might as well assist. There isn't much else to do around Bayville."

"Sure, why not?" Tabby laughs. She leans back on the heels of her hands. "We'll help." She's answered for Amara and Jubilee too, but neither of them argue.

"Okay," says Rahne.

Kitty had sort of forgotten Rahne was here, too. "Right!" she says, and then turns expectantly to Jean, who is sitting lost in thought.

"Jean?" she prompts.

Slowly, Jean nods. "Yes," she says. "We need to know what he's planning." She looks up. "Count me in."

"Yes!" Kitty punches the air and scrambles for the boxes on her bed. "Okay, so I call the first meeting of the Sisterhood of the Super Cute Matching Candy Cane Sweaters to order right now!"

Rogue looks vaguely ill. "The what?"

"Taaa-daaa!" From the boxes, Kitty produces a series of white and red and silver sweaters –soft, fluffy, and sporting candy cane decals in all their glittering glory. No one jumps up to grab one, so Kitty hands them out.

"Oh my god," Jubilee laughs gleefully. She and Amara and Tabby throw their sweaters on and start posing in Kitty's mirror.

"I'm not wearing this," Emma informs her.

This is not unexpected, honestly.

"We'll work on it," Kitty promises. She pulls her own sweater on and nods in satisfaction. "Time to get started, girls."

They have work to do.

000

Logan isn't exactly a fan of Christmas. Everyone is real cheerful and jolly and all that, sure, but they're also more likely to pay attention to strangers, which in Logan's experience is rarely a good thing.

Logan's as strange as they come.

Christmas is also when Chuck stops letting Logan ride around forgetting what he can't remember and makes him come home. From September to December, Logan is free to come and go as he pleases, but as soon as the holiday season starts, it's all phone calls from Stripes and psychic admonishments from Chuck and Storm leaving mildly reproving messages on his voicemail until he can't take it anymore and finds himself back in Bayville.

The X-Men are a sneaky bunch, Logan admits.

"Come in, Logan!"

And Charles Xavier is the sneakiest one of all. Logan fixes a scowl on his face before obeying the summons and entering the professor's office. Chuck isn't fooled. F…reaking telepaths.

Logan censors that, because the last conversation he and Chuck had about swearing was embarrassing for both of them.

Chuck beams at him and says, "Welcome home, old friend."

"You said that yesterday," Logan says sourly. "When I first got here."

"Ah, yes, but it's still true," Chuck replies, easy, kind. He's not even faking it. Charles Xavier really is that genuinely pleased to see Logan. He's obviously nuts, but Logan kind of owes him, so he won't go around saying that out loud.

"And I do appreciate that," Xavier says, smile only broadening at Logan's deepened scowl.

"Stay outta my head, Chuck," he groans.

Xavier chuckles and asks, "How are you, Logan?"

"Fine," he grumbles. "Been on the road for a few days. Tired."

Chuck steeples his hands and nods. "I imagine so. Please do rest up before you begin terrorizing the bloom of youth out of the children's faces again."

"Hey," Logan protests half-heartedly.

"You do and you know it," Chuck says. "Poor Monsieur LeBeau wouldn't even come inside to sleep the last time you were here. He slept in Ororo's greenhouse."

Logan suspects that Remy sleeping in the greenhouse actually had more to do with its relative privacy in comparison to the rest of the mansion than with anything Logan had done. Gumbo is a tough cookie. He probably just gets tired of the inane conversations the other kids get into.

Although, since Chuck mentioned it…

"That boy ever man up and tell Rogue how he feels?" he asks gruffly.

Chuck sighs. "Sadly, no," he says.

Logan cannot deal with this for another year. Enough is enough. "I'm telling her myself then," he growls.

"Now, Logan–"

"Now, Logan, what? You know I'll do it, Chuck, this is just sad now."

Chuck covers his face with his hands. "The pining, Logan. The pining."

Logan nods grimly. "I'm not putting up with it again," he says. "I know you think I should just let the kids 'have their fun' or whatever, but it was annoying when it Jean and Scott, and it's still annoying now. I'm too old for this."

"You don't look a day over 110," Chuck says loyally. Logan smirks. "But what about your longstanding policy on the children's in-school romances?" the professor continues.

Logan rolls his eyes. "I'm making an exception," he says.

Chuck beams. "I approve. An excellent idea."

"I'd have done it anyway," Logan points out.

"Yes," Chuck says, "that's why I approved it."

Logan doesn't stay to chit-chat much longer, mostly because he despises small talk but also because he has stuff to do. He almost wishes he had stayed though, when Emma Frost turns the corner just in time to "accidentally" run into Logan outside of the professor's office. He gives her his most unimpressed look. It's very unimpressed.

"Why, Logan," she purrs, sidling closer than necessary. She touches his arm and he raises one bushy eyebrow in protest, which she ignores.

"Emma," he says when apparently she doesn't plan on finishing the sentence. She smiles at him, dazzling.

Undazzled, he scowls at her. "What do you want?"

She laughs, pats her hand on his arm like he's one of her British nobility friends. "Can't a girl just want conversation?"

"Not with me," he says. Emma tsks.

"Such a frown! I'm sure there are many ladies who would be delighted to converse with you."

This is giving Logan a headache and flashbacks to older times, which is always a bad sign. "Bye," he tries to say.

"Logan!" Emma follows him down the hall to the elevator. "Sit with me at dinner tonight?"

"No," he says shortly, and jumps out of the elevator just before the doors close, leaving her riding down to Hank's lab by herself with an outraged look on her face.

000

Rogue is looking for Remy. He knows this because he just ran into Bobby, who waggled his eyebrows suggestively and told Remy, "Rogue is looking for you."

Remy isn't sure what that particular inflection is supposed to imply, but he's guessing it's something that Bobby actually knows nothing about.

This is unfortunate timing, however, because Remy doesn't have time to talk to Rogue right now. He shocks himself with the thought and takes a moment to reconsider. No time for Rogue? But alas, it is true. Remy can't be romancing right now. He's got to go break the law.

Remy thinks breaking the law is sort of romantic, actually, but he's been told that he shouldn't tell people that.

But now is the time to go. Piotr is sufficiently distracted, Bobby and Kurt are nowhere to be found, and none of the Brotherhood really care about what Remy is up to as long as they aren't being shot at or blown up. This is probably his only chance to sneak out and investigate the compound all on his own.

Piotr had said he agreed it was best for Remy to go alone, but he didn't really mean alone. Piotr's idea of a solo mission was for Remy to go inside alone, but for Piotr and the rest of the boys to be waiting for him while hiding in the trees or something ridiculous like that.

Remy shrugs on his trench coat, trusty as ever, and checks the pockets. Cards, mostly empty cigarette pack, more cards, a ring of Jean's that he'd "found lying around," the deck of cards missing its Queen of Hearts, a pair of Xavier's eyeglasses that Remy really had found lying around and hadn't had time to return yet, and his Thievin' Gloves.

They're different from his usual gloves. Only one finger is missing from each. It would be pretty stupid to wear fingerless gloves to a job, but Remy needs at least one free for his powers, so his ring fingers are bare. He'd wanted the middle fingers, but Tante Mattie had vetoed that idea.

He's stalling. In the garage, Remy straddles his motorcycle, parked beside Logan's in his designated spot, and frowns. He has a designated spot. It's right next to Logan's, the motorcycles enjoying a privileged location near the door. Sometimes it just hits him all over again that he lives here.

Remy's jaw clenches. Don't even think about it, he thinks at the Grinch, whoever he is. Stay away. Or I swear that I'll make you regret it. He punches the button for the garage door and roars out into the December twilight.

000

"I'm just saying that we need a plan of attack– Emma! Are you even listening to me?"

Of course not. "Do you think Logan is interested in younger women?" Emma asks.

Kitty pauses in disgust. "Um, ew?" she says. "I mean, he'd have to be, pretty much. I doubt there are that many women as old as he is. But why would you even ask that?"

Emma just hums.

"Ewww!" Kitty shrieks. "Emma!"

"Can you read minds now, Kit-Kat?" Emma asks, amused. She doesn't look at all sorry.

"It's Logan!" Kitty wails. "You can't… seduce Logan!"

"Says who?"

"Common decency!"

"Professor Xavier is sending us all out to fetch the Christmas tree later tonight, isn't he?"

"What's that got–"

"I'll make my move then," Emma says. Kitty groans.

"Whyyyyyy?"

Emma shrugs. "Men are always more susceptible when they're cold," she says.

"Logan is Canadian," is all Kitty can think of to say. Emma smiles demurely. It looks wrong on her, like a cat pretending it doesn't like to chase mice.

"Can we please think about our mission?" Kitty pleads.

"You could work on Piotr at the tree cutting," Emma suggests slyly.

"What? How? That is… preposterous! And Piotr is Russian, so I doubt the cold will help much. And I don't even want to… work on him anyway!"

"I meant for the mission, Kitty," Emma laughs. "Sounds like you were thinking of something else, though."

Emma is honestly infuriating sometimes.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously at all," Kitty retorts.

"Not really," Emma agrees.

None of them seem to be. Yesterday, Rahne's mother had come to pick her up like four hours after their meeting, a fact which she had failed to mention, so she was out. Tabby, Amara, and Jubilee had immediately abandoned them to go back to making eggnog, and now Rogue is too annoyed by not seeing Remy all day to do anything about not seeing Remy all day. Kitty is pretty much left with Jean.

And Jean is great and all, but she's like, the least stealthy person Kitty knows. She's already asked Bobby if there's anything he'd like to tell her, which somehow led to a conversation about puberty that has left Jean a little bit shell-shocked. It's up to Kitty now.

She sighs. Maybe Emma is on to something. "I'll see about Pete," she tells Emma, "and if you see anything of Mr. Logan's, don't tell me about it, for the love of God."

"Of course," says Emma, innocent like she wasn't planning on sending Kitty mental images of Mr. Logan without his shirt on or whatever. Kitty knows Emma. "Innocent" isn't in her vocabulary.

Or it is, usually preceded by "Corruption of the."

"Where's Rogue?" Kitty asks. Emma searches telepathically and directs her to the Danger Room.

"Good," says Kitty. "I need to punch something."

000

Remy is maybe a bit grumpy. Not a lot. A teeny bit.

Okay, a lot.

Warren Worthington III is winning the race for Rogue's heart, and yes, okay, Remy knows that Rogue is not a prize to be won, but it still feels like a competition when Warren is all perfect smile, perfect hair, and Remy is just… devilishly handsome, true, but also a "thieving rascal" as Logan said a few months ago.

Remy's still not sure why Logan thought he should be insulted by that.

Anyway, Warren gets to spend time with Rogue and come up with ways to woo her while Remy has to be the hero. It's totally not fair. Remy wants to be the one sitting next to Rogue during Christmas movies and helping her decorate cookies and telling her the firelight makes her eyes glow.

Instead he's sitting in a tree outside of the Grinch's "top secret" compound.

Maybe Remy should tell everyone about the Grinch. It's not like they'll kick him out of the X-Men if they don't believe him and decide he's lying. Right? If they were going to kick him out, they'd have done it already. Right?

Remy's done way worse things than this before.

And the others could help. If they believed him. Like, instead of Kitty hounding him all day, she could be helping him break into the Grinch's compound and steal all of the man's dirty little secrets.

Remy pauses to contemplate the likelihood of having to sort through literal dirty laundry and resigns himself to at least a small amount of underwear drawer digging. He's not a top secret government commando. He doesn't know where they hide things. He has to at least consider the idea that they stash secrets in their underwear drawers.

Most people do.

Remy tugs his gloves down over his wrists with his teeth and then wonders why he even bothers. It's not like there's anyone here to see how cool he looks anyway.

000

Commander Brock Rumlow stands very still and tries not to do anything to remind his boss that he's still in the room. He really doesn't need to worry, though. The man's entire focus is on the screen before him, hungrily eyeing the security feed. Or rather, the person the security feed is… feeding.

Rumlow is creeping himself out with this metaphor.

The Snake's eyes gleam. "He really is quite stupid," he says softly. "Look at him. Like a little fly, foolishly imagining himself to be the spider. See how he creeps along there?" He points to the screen.

The mutant doesn't realize he's been caught on the camera. To be fair, the cameras aren't visible. They're exceptionally small, actually, designed for one purpose –to see without being seen. He perches on the wall for a second, then drops down inside the outer wall of the compound.

The angle switches, cameras closer to the main building picking up on the very distinctive body heat signature of the mutant. They had programmed it in after Rumlow realized they were being followed around Bayville by a very persistent stalker.

They almost hadn't caught him at all. It's not that the mutant isn't good, it's just that Rumlow is better.

"Go," the Snake orders. Rumlow and his crew prepare to move out. "And don't forget to give him my regards."

Rumlow thinks that his boss is probably enjoying his villain persona a little too much, but he keeps that to himself in the interest of not being murdered by a man wearing a powder blue tie. "Let's move," he says, and they do, twenty men and women in black SWAT gear marching down the hallway to capture one man.

One mutant, Rumlow's brain reminds him. And you've seen what he can do. That business with the exploding cards is no joke, even if it looks like one.

Still overkill, he thinks.

Yeah, and you'd better get over that before he kills you, his brain pipes up helpfully.

Rumlow shakes off the jitters and the gnawing remnants of his conscience. Get the mutant. Subdue the mutant. Don't let your boss see that you have second thoughts, or even thoughts at all really. Good plan.

000

Remy knows that it's all gone wrong the second his feet hit the ground. The clicking and whirring of machinery has him tensing, dropping to the ground, and cursing low under his breath. They've seen him. Footsteps pound under his ear, pressed against concrete.

Go, go, now!

He jumps up and races for the wall, bo staff extending. He's nearly airborne when the familiar sound of crackling energy warns him to twist out of the way and land on his feet, still inside the walls.

Again with the tasers, people, come on.

Remy whips a glowing card at the knot of commandos and watches them scramble out of the way of the blast. He needs more charge. Three cards this time: a two of diamonds and a ten and jack of clubs. They explode right at the feet of two of the commandos, knocking them back and down.

Searing pain flares in his shoulder at the same time that he hears the gentle pop. The impact of the bullet spins Remy around to face his attacker. The commando looks grim.

"Hands up," he orders. "Surrender!"

Remy rolls his eyes. "Nah," he says snottily. He presses his right hand into his left shoulder. The bullet went clean through; he can feel the blood soaking into the back of his coat. He backs away from the commando, only to run into the wall with a jolt of pain that takes his breath away.

"Last chance to come quietly, mutant," the commando says.

Remy snorts. "If you think Remy is coming quiet," he says, "then you don't know much about mutants." He launches himself away from the wall and into the new cluster of soldiers, who scatter and fall back like he's a missile rather than an injured and solitary man. He barrels into them, flinging charged cards in every direction he can, elbowing people in their face masks, laying abound one handed with his bo staff.

The tasers get him. It's always the tasers. He goes down after absorbing as much of the energy as his body can stand, releasing it in one final explosion that sends commandos flying and rolling in the only moment of satisfaction he's had in this entire awful, unending day.

He's struggling to hold onto consciousness when the commando who shot him gets down on one knee, impassively staring into his eyes. Remy musters up a glare, but the man barely flinches.

"Mr. Pierce wanted me to give you his regards," he says finally. Remy's last thought is that he can hardly believe these people take themselves seriously when they say things like that, but then his eyes fall shut and he's gone.

…eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree!

A/N: I just want to say that I owe a lot to other writers in this fandom, because a generous portion of the characterization I often use is based off of the way other people write these characters –people who either know the comics better than I do or write funnier stuff than I do. So shout out to KineticallyCharmed, ElvenMuggle, Blue, and all of the other beautiful authors who have inspired me for literal years with their writing.

Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: I do not own 5-Hour Energy.