I'm going to do my best to get this story finished by March. I finally have the plot all smoothed down in my mind. First I had writer's block then I was suffering from too many ideas. Thanks to all my reviewers for keeping me motivated and encouraging me!
Disclaimer: X-men is the property of Marvel, which is owned by Disney. Cheyenne, however, is my intellectual property.
Cheyenne stood patiently beneath the bleachers of the Brontsam High school stadium, Allen and Angela on either side. They were waiting for the band to come down.
'Where are they?' Cheyenne wondered. On cue with her thoughts, a trek of blue and silver began to file by, faces indistinct. The drum line, for some reason contrary to the norm, was last.
'There they are! Dan and Jack.' She began to wave furiously, smiling. 'Dan and Jack. Jack.'
Blearily, reality hit. "I'm not in high school." She announced. "And you are a two-timing fink, Jackson Albert Malloy!" With deliberation she extended her wings and talons, now suddenly clad in her leather X-men suit. "I'm not sure the boy I dated ever really existed, so I don't have any qualms about taking you for a flight." She was gratified to see sweat break out over Jack's face as he wiped his brow nervously, dislodging his band hat from its appropriate place on his head.
About to move forward to dispense airborne justice, Cheyenne was restrained by two muscular arms, gentle but firm. Looking down at them, she noted the skin was green. Cheyenne leaned back into the arms and tipped her head back to see Mort, smiling down at her fondly.
" 'E's not worth soiling your pretty hands, love." His grin turned wicked. "But if you like I could teach him some manners."
Cheyenne frowned. She'd like Mort to pummel Jack, but then he'd have to take his arms off of her.
The problem was solved when an indistinct male, blonde figure with glistening white feathered wings landed in front of them. "Blood gets preference before boyfriend." He announced and, with no further ado, snatched up a screaming Jack and flew off.
Cheyenne turned happily in Toad's arms, sighing as he lowered his head to plant little kisses along her neck. Then her cheek. Then ever so lightly on her lips; then more firmly and she was melting in his embrace, running her hands appreciatively from his neck to down along his biceps.
BEEEP!
Cheyenne woke suddenly, breathing rapidly and desperately wishing she was still asleep. "I hate you." She informed her cell phone, which was innocently sitting on her nightstand with a lit screen and message box signifying a new text message. Sighing, the Texan sat up and pushed the covers off her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and with a stretch popped her wings free. "I really, really need to call Angela." She muttered, suddenly hoping that her dream hadn't been accompanied by any sleep speech. 'I don't know how I could face Mort again if he heard me calling his name in my sleep.' Inadvertently her face flushed at the thought. She had no idea how much sound passed between the rooms, but in the early morning stillness it was easy to believe that every little noise could be heard by every single person in the mansion. She shook her head slightly as if it could dislodge the thought that had subsequently popped up of whether or not he would like her calling his name in her sleep, and reached for her phone.
Text Message to Cheyenne Jackson from Unknown Number: Hi Cheyenne, this is Warren. The Professor gave me your number. I'm going to be at the mansion for the fourth and I'm really looking forward to meeting you.
Cheyenne grinned, immediately excited. She added her cousin to her contacts list as she pondered what to reply. Briefly she debated whether or not to simply call him, but in the end decided against it. Meeting a cousin who had a mutation similar to her own, and who on top of that was part of the side of her family tree that hadn't acknowledged her existence was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. 'For now texts might be best, anyway I'll get to see him on Friday!'
Text Message to Warren Worthington from Cheyenne Jackson: I'm really looking forward to meeting you as well! Are you always this early of a riser?
Climbing out of bed, the winged mutant puttered about the room getting ready for the day. She absent-mindedly tabulated what she needed to do for the day: get approval for her lesson plans, and her ideas on using the danger room for interactive historical re-enactments. Some of her future students would be returning from their summer vacation for the fourth and she was starting to fret a bit about her occupational choice.
With a deep breath, Cheyenne focused and retracted her wings as she slid her shirt over her head. No sooner had she settled the shirt into place then the phone resting on the covers beeped.
"Oh!" Cheyenne exclaimed, springing forwards and wings popping free in her excitement.
Test Message to Cheyenne Jackson from Warren Worthington: Early morning is usually the best time to stretch my w-I mean "jog". Maybe we can "jog" together?
The Texan grinned at the invitation. "It'll be awesome to have someone to fly with!" She murmured happily, fingers moving over the keys of her phone.
Text Message to Warren Worthington from Cheyenne Jackson: I would love to!
There was a knock on the wall behind her head and Cheyenne jumped slightly, startled. "Everything alrigh' in there, Cheyenne?" The shout was muffled, but the voice was ready for trouble despite its just-woken gruffness.
"Fine!" Cheyenne called back quickly. "Sorry if I woke you!" She hesitated briefly, then plunged ahead. "If you're up now, you want to get breakfast?"
"Alrigh', just give me a minute ta pull some clothes on." Mort called back. "Unless ya want to come over and have breakfast in bed?" He continued, grin obvious in his tone of voice.
"Are you aware," Forge stated loudly from the hallway, before Myth could formulate a response, "that you are shouting and that other people can hear you?"
"Sorry!" Cheyenne called towards the hallway apologetically.
"No worries!" Forge yelled back cheerfully. "Just flirt with your indoor voices!"
"We will!" Cheyenne's eyes widened as the words left her mouth without her conscious permission. "I mean…uhhh..I- oh dagnabit." She trailed off to a mutter. Her elevated hearing picked up Forge chuckling as he walked away and Mort laughing next door. It was a brief sound, but rich and warm. The noise made Myth pause as Toad's laughter segued into speech.
"Give me five minutes, love."
"Okay." Cheyenne replied. The sound of her own voice brought her back to alertness to realize she was standing with a ridiculous smile on her face, wings out and clutching her cell phone absentmindedly to her heart. She sighed and flopped belly first onto her bed. 'I'm calling Angela after breakfast.' She decided, burying her face in her pillow. A half-flap of her wings settled the thought in her mind, and Cheyenne rose quickly with the realization that she hadn't yet brushed her hair.
It wound up being a few minutes past four in the afternoon before Myth found herself back in her room. After knocking on Toad's door, she had spent most of the day in his constant company. The green mutant had opted to utilize a crutch rather than using Kurt as ferry-service when Cheyenne had offered to go look for him. The single crutch had set Cheyenne to wondering, but Mort had waved her inquiry of whether it wouldn't be easier to use both crutches aside.
"More comfortable this way." He'd said as they had ambled towards the elevator. " 'Sides," He'd added innocently, "I've got you ta lean on, righ'?" He had followed up this statement by lightly draping the arm not occupied with the crutch around her shoulders.
Cheyenne had instinctively wrapped her arm around his waist, securing him against her side. Their proximity had allowed her to feel the slight surprised jolt Toad made at the action. Her heart had panged at the action. 'Is he so un-used to normal human contact?' She had wondered. 'Did he expect me to shrug his arm off?' These thoughts perhaps had been part of why her response left her mouth with barely a pause. "You do." She'd affirmed quietly, and smiled up at him. Then her brain had chosen that moment to inform her that she was nestled rather close to Mort's body and: 1.) it was as pleasantly muscular as she'd noticed, 2.) his scent was, logically enough, stronger this close. Her sensitive nose picked up on the faint traces of the department store on his new clothes, the fresh smell of the med lab's shampoo, and something else- something herbal, almost like mint but not quite, alongside of his body's natural scent. Cheyenne took control of her body before she impulsively nuzzled her face into his side and sniffed him. Her smile turned shy, somewhat bashful, and her cheeks flushed.
Mort's initial dumbfounded answering smile quickly morphed into a pleased, confident grin at this behavior. Whilst preoccupied with her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that while she was preventing herself from acting on the input from her nose the hand resting on his side had, of its own accord, briefly stretched its fingers to run appreciatively along the edges of his abdominals.
They had exited the elevator and then spent almost two hours at the breakfast table, following Mort's comment that he'd enjoyed the Agatha Christie novel she'd chosen for him. The conversation had turned literary and soon their fellow early risers-namely Storm, Forge, Beast, Logan and the professor- had been sucked into the discussion. The Wolverine had initially observed more than participated, head tilted to the side as his own extremely sensitive nose gave him information. When the discussion turned to movie and television adaptations, he'd taken a greater part. He'd seen more, or rather remembered seeing, movies than having read their book counterparts.
The group was spiritedly discussing the Lord of the Rings trilogy when the other members of the mansion began to come down in ones (Kurt), twos (Rogue and Gambit) and threes (Jubilee, Bobby, and Tabby). In the end the entire group, including the Professor, had ended up in the rec room watching the first movie.
Lively commentary had ensued periodically, and Myth got into a pleasant argument with Bobby over Tom Bombadil.
"He should have been included!" Myth pronounced from her spot on the couch next to Mort.
"But," Bobby protested, "he's so…so silly. It would have ruined the dramatic flow."
"Walking, talkin' trees sounds silly." Rogue put in. "But it ended up pretty darn epic."
"Hey!" Tabby exclaimed. "Spoilers!" The blonde had only seen bits and pieces of the movies that she could remember. Her interest had been sparked by the lanky inventor's interest, but now she was getting into the story. Incidentally, Aragorn had just made an appearance.
"Well, wood always-" Gambit started mischievously.
"Remy?"
"Oui, chere?"
"No." Rogue stated simply and firmly. Gambit chuckled and began to idly toy with a strand of her hair.
"It didn't ruin the flow in the book." Mort pointed out. "And he wasn't silly. Jus' powerful and eccentric."
"Exactly." Cheyenne concurred smugly. "Thank you." She smiled up at Mort.
The green-skinned mutant smiled back. "Anytime, love." His eyes shifted back to the screen. "This is one of my favorite scenes." He whispered, lowering his lips to her ear.
"Mine too." Cheyenne whispered back, pleased, eyes also on the screen as Strider confronted Frodo. Silence fell over the mutant audience as they watched.
Cheyenne sighed as she flopped onto her bed once more. She pulled her phone towards her, checked to see if she had any new messages. Selecting the new message alert, she saw that she didn't have another message from Warren but from Dan.
Text Message to Cheyenne Jackson and Angela Rodriguez from Dan Evans: She said yes!
A smile lit up Cheyenne's face as she sent a congratulatory message to go along with the one Angela had already sent.
Text Message to Dan Evans and Angela Rodriguez from Cheyenne Jackson: Congrats, Muffins! Happy for you J
Smile still on her face, she punched in Angela's number, almost dialing from muscle memory
"Cheyenne!" Angela answered brightly.
"Hey Ange!" Cheyenne replied. "What's up?"
"Oh, just folding some laundry. What's up with you?"
"Well, I'm going to get to meet some family from my mom's side on Friday."
"From the stuck-up half of your family that's ignored your existence?" Angela asked in disbelief. "Seriously? What brought that on?"
"I have a cousin with, ah, similar gifts to me."
"No way!"
"Yep!" Myth confirmed. "I found out about him by pure accident talking at dinner the other night. He's going to come over for the fourth, so we'll get to meet."
"That's so exciting!" Angela bubbled, her excitement for her friend clear in her voice.
"Yeah, the Professor-you remember, you met him?"
"Yes, I remember your boss." Angela laughed. "Bald, classy accent. Kind of looks like that guy from Star Trek."
Cheyenne was momentarily sidetracked by this observation. "You know, I'd never thought of that but he does, you're right."
"Of course I am." Angela replied loftily. "I'm always right."
"Uh-huh." Cheyenne snorted. "Miss Benedict-Arnold-was-in-the-Civil-War right?"
"Oh, shut up." Angela shot back. "I remembered he was a traitor. I just got a little mixed up about when he was being traitorous."
"Anyway," Cheyenne continued, giggling slightly, " the Professor gave him my number and we've been texting. He seems really nice."
"This is so awesome!" Angela remarked. "I can totally deal with all the good feelings going around here lately. We're totally due for it. You're meeting your long-lost cousin, Allen's going to be home for the fourth, and how about Muffins and Jacqueline?"
"I'm so happy for him!" Myth smoothed the covers of her bed with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. "He deserves someone to make him happy, especially after the White Witch."
"No kidding." Angela agreed. "And he's not the only one who deserves someone to make them happy. So, any sexy super-powered guys I should know about?"
"Welllll…" Cheyenne drawled sheepishly.
"Oh my gosh!" Angela shrieked excitedly. "There IS a guy! You go, girl!" The kindergarten teacher exhaled forcefully. "Tell. Me. Everything." She demanded.
"So, you know how I told you that we do, err, special interest work on the side?"
"OooOoo, so he was a special interest who became a special interest ?"
"That's how we met." Cheyenne confirmed. "He was being kept prisoner by these genocidal nut jobs."
There was a pause on the other side of the line.
"Angela?"
"Boy, when you said special interest, you weren't kidding." The admiration in her best friend's voice brought an irrepressible smile to the brunette's face. "Soooo," her tone turned teasing again, "in contrast to the norm, you swooped in and saved the boy in distress? And took out the bad guys, I hope?"
"With help, yes."
" 'Atta girl!" Angela praised, satisfied. "I'm going to have to track the news closer and see if I can spot your super hero antics."
"The whole idea is for us to help and maintain a low profile." Cheyenne explained, idly twisting the end of a strand of her hair with her free hand. "So, you shouldn't be able to overtly spot it."
"It makes me feel good though," Angela decided, "to know that y'all are out there watching out for everyone. Especially when I can see, I don't know, 'Genocidal nut jobs locked up', and say to myself 'Hey, that's Cheyenne!'."
Cheyenne laughed at Angela's cheesy news-reporter impression. "It feels good on this end, too." She said. "To know that I'm making a difference."
"Yes," Angela agreed coyly," you and…what was his name?"
"Mort." Cheyenne half-sighed.
"Soooo, details woman!"
"Well, he's British." The winged mutant started hesitantly, feeling a bit like she was dipping a toe into a swimming pool.
"Oooo, that accent!" Angela enthused. She paused. "Nice voice?"
"Very nice." Cheyenne admitted, now with one foot in the metaphorical pool.
"Sooo," Angela drawled, "does the body match?"
"He wouldn't be called classically handsome, but he's-well-"
"Oh my gosh!" Angela exclaimed. "This is totally like that actor on Doctor Who."
"What?" Cheyenne inquired, temporarily taken aback by the mention of her favorite science fiction show.
"You know! The tall guy with the great voice and the leather jacket. You pouted when they took him off and it took you months before you'd watch the show again."
Cheyenne blinked. "That's…actually a pretty good way of describing how I find Mort attractive." She was now standing in the shallow end of the pool. "Except he's only a few inches taller than me. He's very lean and muscular." She was now toeing the precipice between standing and swimming as she hovered on the cusp of the deep end. "He's very well read." This non-sequitur completed her transition to the deep end of the pool and the conversation began to gather speed.
"It's a good thing this guy doesn't have a time machine or you would so totally be calling me from 1776!" Angela remarked, smile evident in her voice. "What's your last name going to be?"
"His last name is Toynbee."
"Wow. How British can you get?"
"Well, he does drink a lot of tea." Cheyenne smiled. "It's super cute." She remarked, recalling him sipping from a mug with his eyes alight as they'd discussed Agatha Christie that morning.
"Cheyenne Mae Toynbee." Angela tested teasingly then proceeded to crack up. "Your initials," she managed in between laughs, "would be CMT."
"And?"
"Country music television!"
"Oh lord." Myth groaned. "Way to live up to the expectations of every non-Texan."
"You have to marry him now!"
Cheyenne rolled her eyes but smiled. "Now there's a lasting foundation for marriage."
"It's awesome!"
Cheyenne's smile faded and she sighed. "Angela?"
"What's wrong chica?"
"I really like this guy."
"I kind of thought so." Angela replied, amused.
"But, do you think," Cheyenne interrupted herself with a sigh and started anew, "Am I rebounding? I don't want Mort to be a rebound." She rose from her bed and began to pace about her room. "He's a great guy! He's intelligent, and he has beautiful eyes." She ran her free hand distractedly along the spines of the books on the shelf closest to her. "He can't hide his gifts the way I can, and its obvious that he's had a rough time of it." Myth heaved another sigh. "He fell in with this racial supremacist, terrorist and he's been working for him for years. That's partially why the genocidal bad guys wanted him. The racial supremacist leader is in prison, but he still knows a lot about various organizations and people." Her talons sprang out and her wings extended from her back with a soft swish, fluttering slightly as she continued to pace around her living space. "But he has so much potential! I know that in time he can be one of us." She absentmindedly scratched the skin beneath the talon on her right elbow. "I know I can't change him. But he can change himself! Professor Xavier gave him a job as a mechanic, and I'm sure he's a great mechanic. I mean, I've been around them since I was in diapers. I know a good mechanic when I see one." She exhaled a frustrated breath. "And I…he flirts with me, hits on me and I like it! And I know he's a reforming criminal, and I've only known him a week, and it hasn't been that long since Jack…and…Oh Ange, what's wrong with me?" The brunette flopped down on her bed once more, stomach down with limbs akimbo like an upside down snow angel.
Angela let out a slight laugh. "Wow. Well, first off you've gone through several life changes in a short amount of time, and taken them like a champ, so it's no wonder you're a little stressed. I mean, c'mon hun, you really roll with the punches, but special interest work, new job, new state, your British bad boy, and now your cousin, all at once? It's only normal to be a little overwhelmed. Heck, if it was me I'd be crying in a corner waving safety scissors at anyone who came near me." Cheyenne smiled at this. "As for whether or not you're rebounding," she continued, "if you were rebounding then I don't think you would worry about rebounding. All I would say is don't rush into anything."
"I know." Cheyenne sighed miserably.
"Ohhhh!" Angela crowed jubilantly. "And you want to!"
"I really do." Cheyenne admitted quietly, to both Angela and herself.
"This well-read, muscular, British former criminal with beautiful eyes and a great voice flirts with you?"
"Yep." Myth confirmed, clicking her heel talons together slowly.
"And only you?"
"Yes." The winged mutant frowned a little at the thought of Mort flirting with anyone who didn't happen to be herself.
"And he's a mechanic?"
"Yes."
"Well, they say girls do like boys like their father." The kindergarten teacher chirped.
Cheyenne giggled. "I'll have to tell my dad that if we get together."
"Oh sweetie, I think that's a 'when' not an 'if'." Angela giggled.
There was a knock on the door. "Cheyenne?" Storm's voice inquired.
"Just a sec, Ange, someone's at the door."
"Yes?" Cheyenne called back.
"Would you like to go over your lesson plans now?" Storm asked. "We can do it later though, if you are in the middle of something."
"No, now is fine." Cheyenne replied. "I just need a minute."
"Take your time." Storm answered. "I will meet you in your classroom."
"Hey, Ange," Cheyenne addressed her friend, speaking into the phone once more, "I'm going to have to go. I'm getting my lesson plans looked at."
"Exciting!" Angela replied. "You're going to be the best teacher." She encouraged.
"I hope so." Cheyenne said. "Thanks for listening. I feel a lot better now that I've talked to you."
"Anytime!" Angela sang cheerfully. "I want updates on your British bad boy now, you understand?"
"Oh, I can promise you that!" Cheyenne laughed, feeling a surge of confidence.
"Something tells me that boy doesn't know what's going to hit him. Go get him, tiger!"
Cheyenne laughed once more, feeling buoyant. 'I'm going to take my time certainly, but I'm going to enjoy myself.' She grinned. "Oh, I will! Bye Angela!"
"Bye Cheyenne!"
"We'll prep the Blackbird Thursday morning." Wolverine informed Toad, punctuating his sentence with a swig of beer.
"Alrigh'." Mort agreed.
"You'll be ok to get around?"
"I heal pretty quick."
Logan raised an eyebrow, raising his beer bottle to his lips once more.
"I said quick, not bloody instantaneous." Mort defended. He was propped up in a comfortable, fluffy chair in the recreation room, feet up on an equally fluffy ottoman. His crutch rested against the side of the chair within arms' reach. Logan had taken him on a tour of the garage, where he was happy to be reunited with his motorcycle, and discussed his duties with him. The clawed mutant had been upfront that he would be supervising everything the green mutant would do during his probationary period, and Mort found that he appreciated the honesty. Granted, the hairy Canadian had then followed this up with the statement that he would decide when the probationary period was up. Any amount of supervision, was worth it to work with all the incredible machines Xavier had in that garage.
'I can't wait to get my hands on those jets.' Mort mused. 'Those wings-' His thought trailed off as he caught sight of Cheyenne moving past the doorway, wings folded neatly behind her. He grinned at her as she paused by the doorway. She smiled back at him. It was a mischievous smile, as her eyes broke from his and very deliberately traced their way down his body all the way to his injured toe then back up to his golden irises. 'Got to get my hands on those wings.' Mort thought fuzzily, mashing his previous thoughts together. Cheyenne nodded at him, impish smile still in place and continued on her way.
Logan grinned into his beer as the British mutant stared dazedly at the empty doorway.
Cheyenne skipped a few paces away from the doorway, starting to blush but smiling all the same. 'I can't believe I just did that!' Resuming walking, the Texan strode off to her meeting with Storm.