I apologize for the wait on this chapter. I was experiencing writer's block while simultaneously knowing where I wanted the plot to go- so very frustrating. Then of course, I get on a roll and I had to make a conscious decision to end the chapter or this would have been far too long. Down side is that this is a little on the short side, the bright side is that there shouldn't be as quite a long as wait for the next chapter. :)
To Dontgotaclue88: I'm so glad you liked it! I hope you continue to enjoy it :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men. Marvel own them…and Disney owns Marvel. I only own Cheyenne!
As always, comments/criticism are welcome but please keep all criticism constructive!
Toad stirred, blinking his eyes blearily in the haze induced by waking from sleep, and sleepily perplexed to find himself in a spot different than the one he'd fallen asleep in. Movement at the foot of his bed caused his golden eyes to shoot fully open and for him to spring upright, shedding all sleepiness for alertness of the unknown.
"Easy dere, mon ami." Gambit said. "I come bearing dinner." He demonstratively raised his hands, showing off the tray he was holding.
"Dinner?" Mort inquired. " 'Ow long 'ave I been asleep?"
"The whole day." Gambit replied cheerfully, dexterously switching the tray to one hand and flipping the bedside table into position with the other. "Yo' fell asleep while Puff was combing your hair."
Mort rubbed his eyes as Remy deposited his meal on the bedside table. Then he paused. "Puff?"
"Oui." Gambit confirmed. " 'Bout so high." He placed a hand on his chest indicating Cheyenne's stature. "Wings, claims to not be a magic dragon who lives by the sea."
Mort snorted at this, lifting the cover over his plate. "And you are?" He inquired, picking up a fork to start on the pasta dish before him. "Don' recall beating you up before."
"No one does." Gambit said smoothly. "I'm Remy LeBeau, better known as Gambit. O' Le Diable Blanc. Whatever suits yo' fancy."
Mort blinked at the hand stretched in front of his face. Then he smirked as the impact of this response sunk in, briefly placing his own hand in Gambit's proffered one as he decided that the red-eyed bloke had style, at least. "Toad."
"Nice to see you not snoring and drooling over Puff's lap." The Cajun remarked pleasantly, leaning against the wall. "Speaking o' which," Gambit continued, ruby eyes twinkling mischievously, "she was going to bring your supper down herself but the other femmes pulled her off for yoga."
Mort chewed the mouthful of pasta he'd just forked into his mouth contemplatively, and a bit distractedly, thoughts slipping once again into lines that would have shocked the nuns who he had spent his early years with.
"So I volunteered, well," Remy corrected himself, "I volunteered after they once again declined my benevolent offer to spot them." He sighed theatrically, amused to note that the green-skinned Brit had just realized he'd been chewing the same mouthful of food for the past minute and swallowed. "Besides, I stopped by yo' charming former residence today and thought I should tell you not to expect that security deposit back."
"Ah." Mort stated in grim comprehension, loading his fork with another bite of pasta. "Trashed?"
Gambit nodded. "We did manage to salvage some o' your clothes, and the memory card out of your video game system. Your bike stayed safe in the parking garage you left it in."
"Well, that's a relief at least." Mort mused, pleased to hear that his baby had survived. He'd put a lot of work, and parts acquired by means of various legality or lack thereof, into his motorcycle.
"We laundered your clothes and put 'em in your soon-to-be-room, once Hank lets you out o' his lair dat is." Remy looked around him at the sterile environment, feeling distinctly fidgety despite the absence of anyone who would want to poke, prod or measure him. "Yo' want to get out of here for a bit? There was talk of an Ultra Galaxy Wars tournament in the rec. room."
"You offerin' to carry me?" Mort inquired wryly, pointing his fork at his bandaged foot. "Tried movin' on my own earlier and it 'urt like 'ell."
"Hmmm…I could liberate some crutches for you, or-!" Gambit snapped his fingers, grinning. "I'll go arrange yo' transportation." The Cajun strode out of the lab.
Mort found out what Gambit had in mind several minutes later when the noise that heralded Nightcrawler's appearances and disappearances surprised him into choking on the last bite of his dinner.
"Hello." Kurt greeted.
"Wot is it with you people and poppin' out of nowhere?" Mort coughed.
"Shopping tomorrow!" Tabby cheered, pumping her hands in the air as she led the way down the stairs.
"I can so use this trip after spending so much time in the computer lab." Kitty mused cheerfully. "There's nothing like therapeutic shopping."
"Says you." Rogue muttered darkly.
Storm chuckled. "Come, Rogue, one would think we were offering to torture you."
"We?" Jubilee questioned eagerly, as Rogue muttered something about the mall being torture. "So you're going to come too?"
"It will be nice to get out of the mansion for awhile." Storm remarked. "And you were kind enough to invite me."
"Great! You can help us pick Rogue out some clothes that aren't green, brown, or black." Tabby stated as they rounded the landing. "And we can find Cheyenne some backless tops."
"What?" Myth, who'd been pondering whether or not it was wise for her to venture in public, spoke in surprise. "What's wrong with the tops I have now?"
"I like earth tones." Rogue maintained stubbornly.
"We know." Kitty told the Mississippi girl. "You wear them everyday."
"I'll see you ladies tomorrow." Storm stated, smiling at their interchange as she headed off to her room.
There was a chorus of goodnights directed at Storm as the group parted ways from the weather witch, heading towards the recreation room.
"Nothing's wrong with the tops you have now." Jubilee remarked as they turned the corner. "But popping your wings in and out is hard on the material."
"Totally!" Kitty nodded in agreement. "Like, this way you can have some variety and keep your wardrobe in good condition."
"I suppose." Cheyenne remarked dubiously. "I'm not sure I'm really comfortable with showing that much skin." The Texan put forth, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face as the group of girls entered the rec. room.
Recognizing Myth's voice, Mort punched the pause button of the controller he was hunched over. "'Ow much skin are you showin', love?" To his mild disappointment, the petite winged mutant was not clad in tight pants and a skimpy top but rather in a pair of loose fitting sweat-pants similar to the pair he had on and an equally loose fitting blue t-shirt.
The girls blinked at the sight of Toad, bad foot propped up on a pillow on the coffee table, Gambit, Nightcrawler, and Iceman sitting on the couch with game controllers clutched in their hands. Tabby, who had once received a glob of slime to the face courtesy of Toad, shifted behind Jubilee, subconsciously cursing being the tallest of the group.
"What are you doing out of the med. lab?" Cheyenne inquired in concern. "You should be resting!"
"I rested all day." Mort informed her.
"You still shouldn't be on that foot." Kitty put in, recovering herself.
"He vasn't." Kurt assured her. "I ported him up and I vill port him down once we're done."
"And Ah bet Ah know whose bright idea that was." Rogue drawled, putting a hand to her hip as she locked eyes with Remy. "Looks like the Swamp Rat's projecting his fear of the med bay on other people."
"It's not a fear, chere." Remy corrected. "I'm jus' being cautious."
"You have to watch those crafty inanimate objects down there." Bobby grinned, earning a giggle from Jubilee.
"Says the boy who has to be dragged down there to get his shots." Rogue shot back, prompting an amused snort from Tabitha.
"Hey! Those big needles hurt!" Bobby defended.
Remy treated him to a smug look.
"No comments about him justifying your paranoia, swamp rat?" Rogue queried, pushing a stray strand of white hair behind her ear. "I'm shocked."
"Caution." Gambit corrected. "And I didn't feel the need, 'specially after you justified it for me, my belle 'lil river rat."
"Now, wot was all that about you showing skin, love?" Mort addressed the Texan, more interested in the wardrobe choices of the winged mutant than the banter the X-men were currently engaging in.
"They're trying to talk me into getting some backless tops." Cheyenne explained.
"Well, that'd be easier for you to let those wings out, righ'?" Mort encouraged, needing no contemplation to be all in favor of the pretty girl who he could make blush show more skin.
"Ye-es." Myth drawled uncertainly. "But I don't like the idea of walking around with that much skin on display. Plus, what would I do about my bra? Either it'd show or I'd just have to go…" She trailed off, flushing as Mort grinned wickedly at her.
"I'd 'ave no problems with that." The green-skinned mutant informed her, golden eyes trailing down her form before returning to meet her own.
"Most tops like that have built in bras, I think." Rogue commented, distracted from her conversation by Myth's comment and subsequent red-face.
"Bras?" Remy inquired alertly, immediately interested in this non-sequitur.
"Et tu, Rogue?" Myth asked.
"Backless tops and tanks generally have built-in bras." Jubilee confirmed wisely.
"Misery loves company." Rogue replied cheerfully.
"Oh!" Tabby grinned. "We should totally get you some tanks."
"No!" Myth replied emphatically. "I draw the line at tanks." She pointed a finger at Toad, who was opening his mouth. "Not one word from you!" She ordered, blush still on her face.
Toad mimed zipping his lips, highly amused by this display of spirit, and highly in favor of getting her in a tank top.
"Hmmm…" Jubilee pondered, considering Toad. "We should grab you a few things too." She decided, overcoming her mistrust of Magneto's follower in her passion for fashion.
"I'm good." Mort replied shortly, a little taken aback from the petite Asian girl stepping forward from where the girls, excepting Cheyenne, had clustered near Bobby and Kurt, who were sitting on the opposite side of the couch, and eyeing him critically.
"Resistance is futile." Bobby informed him.
"It's true." Kurt agreed. "Jubilee can not be stopped vhen she gets that look in her eyes. She did pick me out a nice variety of sweaters though."
"I have taste." Jubilee announced with an airy wave of her hand. "You only have three shirts and two pairs of pants." She addressed Toad. "We're getting you some clothes."
" 'M fine." Mort reiterated in a tone that brooked no rebuke.
"No, you're not." Kitty pointed out. "You don't have enough clothes to make it through one week. Not to mention, you don't have any underwear. "
"Don' need it." Toad maintained.
"Ewww!" Tabby shuddered, as the other girls made various noises of disgust at this.
"Chaton has a point, homme." Gambit remarked, ignoring the display of repulsion from the feminine half of the room.
"That is disgusting." Rogue informed Toad.
"We're getting you underwear, Mort." Cheyenne said sternly, placing a hand on her hip. "I'm sure the Professor will give us some money in lieu of your first paycheck to get you a few things."
"Yes, m'am!" He smirked at her. "As long as you're in the underwear department, y' might as well get me a souvenir."
Cheyenne bit her lip, trying to fight yet another blush. 'What's wrong with me? I'm not fifteen, for goodness sakes! I survived that biography on Freud for heaven's sake, and who knows how many documentaries and essays on Henry the Eighth I've been exposed too.'
"I'd like a souvenir too, Roguey." Gambit told the Mississippi girl mischievously. "Maybe somethin' purple and lacy to go with that Daphne-esque mini-dress Jubilee's going to get you."
"Certainly." Rogue replied brightly. "Then we'd match!"
Cheyenne trailed a finger experimentally across ivory keys. 'Lovely tone.' She pondered, pleased at the familiar feel of a piano's keys beneath her fingers. She had been one of the first up that morning and had eaten a rather light breakfast. That is, it became a light breakfast following her praising the piano located near the library. The Professor had graciously accepted her compliments and, to her delight, immediately offered her free use of it, citing that he and Hank didn't spend near enough time playing it as the instrument deserved.
'Odd that Hank wasn't at breakfast.' Myth thought, letting her fingers skim along the keys in a favorite run from a Bach masterpiece. "I wonder what he's up to." She mused aloud, switching to a swing piece, grin tugging up her lips at the upbeat rhythm. The grin fell as another thought struck her. 'I hope Mort's alright. Hopefully he didn't stay up too late playing video games.'
The girls had disbanded for sleep not much later after they had settled on leaving for the mall after breakfast. The boys in the rec. room, on the other hand, had still been happily wearing out their thumbs. The image of Mort focused on the screen with his fingers pressing buttons rapidly, the tip of his tongue just pressing out of his mouth in concentration, charmed the corners of her mouth to tilt upwards once again. 'I'm sure I'd have heard if something serious was going on.' She shook her head, smile still in place as she remembered his parting words.
"Don' forget my souvenir, love!" He'd reminded her, flickering his golden eyes from the TV screen to her face. Then a frown had tugged at his lips. "And watch what that Chinese girl picks out." Then the frown had morphed into a smirk. "You know I only trust you to 'ave your wicked way with my wardrobe-to say nothin' of my physical self."
'He looked like a little boy sitting there, then he came up with that.' Cheyenne mused, pausing in her playing to reach a hand up to scratch her wing. She had decided to leave her wings out until the last possible moment in order to help maximize her time with them in while shopping. As Kitty had pointed out the night before, she could always run to the bathroom and let her wings out if she needed to, but Myth didn't want to have to seek refuge in a bathroom stall too many times. 'I'd rather people not think I have bladder control issues.' The Texan thought wryly, stretching her wings out a bit before folding them neatly behind her once more as her hands once again answered the siren call of the gleaming piano keys.
In the underground levels of the Xavier mansion, Hank McCoy was blinking his eyes open to find that he'd fallen asleep over the project he'd been working on the night before. Raising his fuzzy blue arms above his head in a stretch, Beast yawned. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he looked down at the pieces of paper and amalgamation of technology hammered together before him that vaguely resembled a watch. Then he shook his head, ruefully wiping a bit of drool away from the notes he had fallen asleep perusing. "Not that it changes their legibility in the slightest." He remarked, smiling nostalgically at the piece of paper. "Forge's handwriting always resembled hieroglyphics more than English." He sighed, glancing around the cluttered lab space that he hadn't visited in years. "What happened to you?" He questioned softly, addressing the workspace as a substitute for his long-missing friend.
Squinting at the notes, he picked them up and moved them closer to his face. "This would certainly be a lot easier if you were here to decode these for me." Then a small smile crept onto his face. "You always teased me about being crazy about her - you were entirely right."