Author's Notes: To say that these fifteen pages are in honor of the first double-digit chapter in 'Some Weird Sin' would be a lie, as I'd really never planned on this part going on so bloody long. There's a lot that happens in this bit, though, so I hope all of you will forgive me for the ungodly length. Taking to heart The Green Bird's suggestion via feedback, I've tried to lessen the length of some of the paragraphs, which is to say I made a valiant effort (I blame Henry Miller). I've probably failed miserably, but do know that it was attempted, if that brings any solace. Once again, thank you to all of you who reviewed, it was very, very much appreciated. I look forward to more in the future and I hope that all of you like this chapter. Thanks again, and, as always, your reviews are treasured most highly. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Ten chapters into this bitch and still I own nothing. Except, of course, Adrian. Gasp! Shock! All of it belongs to Marvel, FOX and probably William Shatner, while we're at it. That bastard has everything.

"Lost out in deep space, it's hard to know where we are.
Stuck out here someplace among the collapsing stars.
Holed up in my ship without a power source,
It's so dark I can't see this couldn't get any worse.
How can I be sure that all is accounted for?

You are the one shining bright as the sun and I'd love to turn you on if I could."
-We Are Scientists, 'Ode To Star L23'

Chapter 10- "Something To Do"

I awaken late again the next morning, throwing on jeans, a tee shirt and a scarf while rushing about in order to clean myself before breakfast. Part of me wants to avoid the gathering like the plague, but I know how to keep my attentions focused elsewhere and I depart from the usual group in favor of a silent meal with Logan. Logan, the Wolverine as he's known, doesn't make the tempest rage inside my head whenever I look at him, nor do my palms itch to hit and maim. He's calm, withstanding the ages with the sturdiness of any great mountain range. Coming down from the Olympus that is the teacher's table, Logan, my Knight in Denim Armor, the Aries War Lord of the bunch, lends me his silent comfort. I wouldn't put it past him to have worked out that I've got something on my mind, something worming its way into my thoughts, but he doesn't ask, and for that I'm thankful. I don't think I could explain this even if I tried.

Excusing myself ten minutes before breakfast ends, I leave to get to Dr. Grey's office early, recalling Professor Summers' instructions the night before. The night before, shit. I need to stop thinking about this like some giant, stupid idiot and get my shit together. All of this schoolgirl bullshit has no place in my mind and I know it. Not that there's anything going on other than the "what the fuck was that?" of last night, but still, it's irksome beyond belief, especially when one is on their way to meet with the school's second most powerful telepath. I'm not afraid of Dr. Grey's reaction so much as I'm a far more private person. If anyone hears about John's antics last night, it'll be by my tongue. Not to assume, but I doubt he's been shouting it through the halls. Then again, there's nothing to shout- or is there? Christ on a motherfucking bike, this is getting obscene.

An hour and forty minutes later and I've been assured my eyes are fine, that my ribs will heal in due time and I've got more notes to shove under my bed. I wave goodbye to Piotr and head out. Then suddenly it's English and I'm pausing awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of where to go, what to do, because it was just a little over twelve hours ago that I was in here cleaning with that lighter-clicking fuckwit and I spilled my guts something awful on the floor after I fell. Shaking my head and willing myself into action, I move towards a vacant seat near the back and lower myself into it gingerly. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize I never asked him if he was all right, after I landed on him, but he never complained and class has begun, Professor Summers' voice drowning out the train wreck of thought in my head.

"-all of you gather into your groups and discuss the reading assigned last night. Beatrice, will you please join Bobby and Rogue as Gail is absent today? Questions are on the board." Straight and to the point, I suppose there's not much room for other perception when you've only got one eye. Figuratively speaking, of course. Beatrice appears grateful that she doesn't have to work with John and I again and I can't blame her. We're both expected to make up the reading currently, handing in the questions tomorrow along with the rest of our homework. Looking down at the small novel the Cyclops left on my desk I almost want to tell him that whatever pride I have left after yesterday evening should be penance enough, but such things aren't tolerated and I keep my mouth shut. Control. I can control my tongue just as easily as I can control the water flowing through the pipes.

John hasn't said a word to me all day, book open, balanced precariously on the edge of his desk, staring at it and doing little else save fingering the lighter in his pocket. I bite back a crude comment about jingling loose change and dig into the ancient lyrical poetry, stopping every now and then to make a notation on a piece of lined paper. Hearing a snort I look up from my work, eyebrow raised slightly in question. "Problem, John?"

"They're notes for One-Eye's class, it's not like you're delivering a fucking baby," he indicates my papers with a scoff. I feel the familiar irritation return.

"John, shut the hell up and read your book." Normality is restored. Banished is the strange behavior displayed during our detention and I feel something settle within myself. "The less you speak the less time we're forced to spend together. Unless you enjoyed last night? Perhaps it's the first time a girl's really fallen for you."

I should have stopped myself after the first sentence, but it was just too easy, too fun to keep going. Control, fuck control. Prometheus said it himself, and maybe the experience of verbally besting him was enough for me right now, just as it was the day we met. But his pride as a member of the male sex has been insulted and I get the feeling he's well on the verge of whipping out his "I have a penis and am therefore superior to you" card and throwing it across the desks at me.

He gives me that trademark, cocky smirk of his and leans forward ever-so-slightly in his chair. "Mills, I don't really feel the need to justify myself to you sexually, but please, don't mistake me for Ice Cube over there. We may be roommates, but we're not the same people in that more carnal sense. Fire and Ice, I'm sure you get the hint."

Glancing at Bobby's group out of the corner of my eye I look back to John, unimpressed. "And he just ended up being the one who got the girlfriend because he was lucky I suppose?"

John laughs. "What's lucky about having a girlfriend you can't fuck?"

Scandalized, I glare at him in a state of disgust and fury. Everyone here had their problems, their vices, their mutations, what gave him the right to be so horrifically cruel with the small bit of happiness they were able to harvest? "You make me sick. How can you even begin to say such a thing you vile, loathsome-"

"Is there a problem?" Again, that tall shadow falling across our desks. I stopped myself, reigning in my composure.

"We were discussing the monster Grendel, Professor," I lied, gesturing to my notes. "You'll have to pardon me, I'm rather passionate about literature."

Summers looks less than persuaded but nods his head and continues milling about the other groups, giving help and suggestions. It's a silent warning, be good or you're gone, and I do my best to heed it, giving John not a glance more and settling back into my work. I hum softly to myself while Elvis Presley sings to me from beyond the grave, providing a soundtrack for the otherwise dull classroom noise. An indiscernible amount of time later and class is dismissed for lunch. Without a word I pick up my things and leave, thankful to be free from the stifling tension within the room. The phrase "eyes on the back of your neck" had a whole new meaning with someone like Professor Scott Summers and I was glad to be out from under the heat for a bit, having been deemed a threat to the peaceful nature of his classroom.

Pausing by the door to the cafeteria I stopped a moment before striding past it and down the hall. Following the memory of Professor Munroe's footsteps the other night I kept up my pace until I reached the large pool, stepping into the cavernous, empty room with quiet footsteps that echoed and reverberated in the vast expanse. Eating could wait, I'd neglected honing my skills, testing my limits with my mutation and I wanted to see what I could manage to pull off in the hour we had for lunch. Start off slow, work your way up, like exercising, or alcohol tolerance. I placed my things near the door, unsure of what to expect from my experimentations, and removed my shoes as well. Throwing the scarf in with the lot of it as an afterthought, I approached the pool barefoot and exploratory. Before I'd started with a wave, a figure molded out of liquid. I wasn't too certain I wanted to attempt walking on the surface of the chlorinated water again, but the parting of the makeshift sea had been exhilarating enough to warrant a go. Almost. I took a deep, steadying breath. Control, I need to prove this to myself. I need to prove him that he's wrong, because god knows I hate arrogant assumptions and besting him may just prove to be the crux of my stability here. Courage, control- fucking a, I sound like Gwen Stefani with all these horrifically lame mantras. This needs to stop before I ruin my band and release a terrible solo album. Seriously.

Pushing my will into it I move my arms upward, the water following suit almost instantaneously. It was mountainous, the sheer mass of it was astounding, reaching up to peak at the very ceiling before I lowered it gently back into the pool. I grinned. It's impossible not to feel like God when you can do something like that and I amuse myself, the water forming into a giant disco ball and rotating at my command. This thing that I can do, it's incredible. It's exhilarating, and it's fantastic, I wish I could spend my whole life manipulating this liquid to do my bidding. It becomes easier to accomplish as time wears on, like driving, every attempt running a bit more smoothly, responding more prompt than the previous. Someone mentioned that Bobby creates his ice from water particles in the air, explaining his ability to pull the stuff out of fucking nowhere and make kittens with it. Well, he can do that all he likes, but can he say he's caused the glaciers to move at his whim? Eyes of icy-blue versus the gray-blue of true liquid water. If I worked a little harder, if I concentrated more and actually trained my abilities, sweet suffering fuck, I could move rivers, I could master the seas. I chuckled to myself at the thought, the surfers would be eating out of my palm for their waves if I ever returned back to California.

All too soon the time passed and I was forced to run, damp from my endeavors with the pool water and somewhat tired from my efforts, to Professor Munroe's History class. I must wreak of chlorine and I catch the knowing smile she throws me before the lesson begins. Jubilee looks at me like I'm nuts, asking where I was at lunch and I grin, quietly explaining to her that I'd had something better to do than gorge myself. Skinny thing that she is, the mention that there was something more important than food and gossip made her eyes widen in disbelief and I wonder perhaps if I've insulted her. She soon laughs though and we quiet at the mention of our test, based on the last three chapters we've gone over in our textbook. I find myself feeling grateful for having prepared myself yesterday as I answer the questions on the exam. Professor Munroe is by no means an easy teacher. She's demanding of her students, and its something I rather respect about her. I'd like nothing more than to rise to the occasion, with my schooling and my training. I finish ten minutes before the end of class and walk with Jubilee down to the Danger Room for Logan's self defense course when she stops.

"Oh my god, I almost forgot!" grabbing my wrist she drags me back up to the dorm. I'm on the verge of enquiring where the hell her mind has run off to when she explains herself. "Dr. Grey came up to everyone in Logan's class today during lunch, they're taking us to go get training clothes and stuff. Isn't it awesome?"

We walk into the dorm where Rogue and Kitty are already collecting purses and shucking their school bags. I stand in the doorway a moment, feeling very much like an alien observer to the scene before me. Rogue catches my eye and smiles. "Don't worry Adrian, they'll jus' take us to a mall a few miles down the road fer an hour or two."

"I, er," I pause for a moment. "How exactly do we pay for our things? I mean, I have a few dollars left from L.A., but it's hardly enough to buy what I'll need for class."

Kitty laughed. "Don't be silly, it all goes on the school's card. Oh! That reminds me," she turned two her other two roommates, a conspiratorial grin curving her lips. "Adrian, how many pairs of clothes did you bring here with you?"

"Three or four, why?" Jubilee gapes at me. For the love of god, one would think I was in cahoots with that Magnet guy from the look she gave me.

"Only three or- Oh, chica, you poor, poor thing. Don't worry," she takes my hand in her own and pats it, smiling. "We'll take care of you."

Fast forward an hour and a half later and I'm hiding behind a jeans display with a few shopping bags in my hands, wondering desperately how in the seven hells I'm going to make it out of Macy's undetected. I've never really been one for shopping, but Jubilee and Kitty, dear sweet lord, those two girls are merciless! Rogue was able to escape after a half an hour with the excuse of spending some quality time out with Bobby getting ice cream and I envied her beyond all rational belief. We'd already covered half the mall and I'd had some forty or fifty things thrown at me, been dragged into a dressing room and had various items shoved at me half as many times and it was driving me mad. Rogue told me it had something to do with Jubilee's previous life, the one she'd had before she came to Xavier's, something about her living in a mall. Well, not to be totally callous, but I didn't really give a fuck if it meant my having to endure this torment for another forty minutes until the meet-up time. Scanning to be sure the coast was clear, I booked it out of the store and ran like a madwoman across the mall, making a hard left towards one of the mall exits and out into the open, second story balcony, skidding to a halt before nearly I toppled over a metal table and a pair of chairs. There were a few people there so I went over and sat near the railing, attempting to look inconspicuous and while hoping to god that my two roommates didn't come out here to search for me any time soon.

"Enjoying your shopping?" I almost jumped out of my skin, whirling about. I exhaled, relieved to find myself in the presence of Piotr, Jolly Russian Giant and living Michelangelo statue extraordinaire.

"Holy fuck, Piotr, you scared the ever-loving shit out of me. I thought you were-"

"Katya and Jubilee," he grinned knowingly. "No, indeed I am not." He took a seat across from me. "They're rather over-zealous, yes?"

I pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my back pocket, removing one. "It's like every day is Black Friday with those two, isn't it?" Piotr laughed as I took out my lighter, cupping the flame against the warm breeze. "It's not that I don't appreciate their help, I just, well, it's a little much sometimes."

"I can understand, they get like that about shopping, we've all experienced it at one time or another." He smiled softly. We sat in silence for a few moments, letting the conversations around us filter in and out at each change of the wind. It was comfortable, companionable much like with Logan earlier that morning. Piotr doesn't pry, something I've noted in the few days I've been graced with his presence; he observes. He's a steady constant individual, and he's smart enough to know that if people want to tell him things, they'll simply tell him. I love that about him, almost more than I adore that sinfully magnificent Russian accent of his and I wouldn't doubt he knows it. With someone like Piotr, I have no qualms with letting my guard down.

"Do they do this sort of thing often? Little excursions for the students and whatnot to keep everyone from getting too stir-crazy?"

He nods. "Occasionally. Teachers organize field-trips and sometimes students are allowed to go out in small groups if they're well behaved or accompanied by a chaperone."

I took a drag off my cigarette, it seemed logical. After all, Xavier's school was preparing us for our futures as mutants out among the human world, and I'll be damned if that wasn't an interesting prospect. "It's really cool that you guys are so close, I mean, you, Jubilee, Rogue, Bobby, Kitty and John. You guys have really got each other's backs."

Piotr's not a stupid boy by any means, despite what some might assume at first glance. I pity whatever poor bastard makes that mistake and earns his ire, because, honestly, who are we kidding? The guy is built like a goddamn freight train. One glance away from the mere dismissal of a dude-bro and I'm thanking my lucky stars that I know better. "We've got yours too, you know."

I chuckle, exhaling smoke. "I wonder what I've done to deserve it sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. I mean, I've only been here a few days, you guys barely known me. And I've been, well, I don't know."

The larger boy inclines his head in understanding. "You're adjusting, just as we all did when we first came here. You learn not to judge being in a place like Xavier's, you can't really afford to. For a lot of us, our friends are all we've got."

Leave it to the artist to really get a grasp on the conversation, to really perceive it for what it truly is. I bite down the unexpected surge of emotions clamoring to rise up and out of me and nod. "I know. I… I'm sorry for starting so much shit with John all the time, I'm not trying to be a drama queen, I swear." Dear god, he must think I've gone insane. I sound like I'm on the verge of babbling out my last words on this mortal plane, like I'm in a psychiatric appointment or something. Instead of giving me a strange look or making excuses to leave, though, he laughs.

"It's about time someone did it, Adrian. This is St. John we're talking about, he needs someone to bounce off of, to react with. In fact, he's better for it. If he hasn't realized it now, he will soon enough."

I raise an eyebrow, trying not to crack up, my thoughts briefly going back to my conversation with Jubilee the day before. "Will he now? I was under the strict impression that he was going to throttle me in my sleep as soon as he got the chance. I mean, we do butt heads a lot."

"It keeps him in check, gives his ego a little balance. He did the same for Bobby when he first came here two years ago or so." He leans back in his seat, watching a bird circle overhead.

I do my best not to sound too flabbergasted. "Bobby? Arrogant? Now there's an interesting thought." Bobby was, by definition, the most polite, All-American boy I'd ever met. Bobby Drake was to Beaver Cleaver as drugs are to an Irvine Welsh novel, and yet I found myself beginning to comprehend it a bit easier. "I can see it happening though. How'd he pull it off?"

"They got into a fist fight one day during a football game with a few of the other students. Ever since then they've been best friends." Piotr shrugged. "Bobby spends a bit more time with Rogue now, obviously, and I think John resents it a little, but he understands. And above all, John's still John, something Bobby accepts easier than others are bound to."

The cherub and the deviant. God, weren't they a match made in heaven. "Bobby's a pretty accepting guy, he really is sort of a Golden Boy, isn't he? I'm rather amazed with it, to tell you the truth. I seriously only thought kids like that existed on television shows anymore."

"I take it there weren't many people like him back in Los Angeles?" Yahtzee! So the gentle giant can play offensive as well when it suits him. Interesting.

"They're a fucking endangered species where I grew up," I make a face, taking my last drag before I realize all I've got left is filter. Crushing it out on a chair leg, I throw the butt into a nearby trashcan. "That's not to say that I haven't known some, or people that pretended to be thus, but, well, we didn't really associate. I wasn't a badass, I was a realist."

"Surviving in the high school hierarchy? I've never had the pleasure, though I've heard about it. Jubilee mentioned it being pretty cut-throat."

"We're from the same part of town, so the dog-eat-dog rule is still apply pretty heavily. I had a few people I hung out with, a really close friend and some other associates. That was all I really needed, you know? Maggie and I, we were like you guys, we had each others backs." I stop for a moment, staring hard at the table. "Fuck, I miss her. I never really had the chance to say goodbye before I came out here, she probably thinks I'm dead." Yeah, I have her back all right, complete with complementary carving knife. If I haven't just stated that I'm the world's shittiest friend since Brutus right now I don't know what could possibly make it more obvious. I grimace, guilt and self-loathing weighing heavily in my chest.

Piotr shrugs. "You did what you had to. When we get back to the mansion you can call her and let her know you're okay if you'd like, I doubt the Professor would mind."

As always, Piotr saves the day. Someone give the boy a fucking cape already. But before I can thank him he's looking over my shoulder and smiling at people I can't see. A quick turn of the head reveals that Bobby, Rogue and John have come to join us, and I pull over three extra chairs so that they might seat themselves.

Rogue grins at me, sitting. "Finally manage to get rid of the shopaholics?" I send a half-hearted glare in her direction.

"I absolutely cannot believe you left me with them while they were in such a frightening state! My god, it's like they smelled blood, I had to hide out in the maternity section for ten minutes before creeping out of the store! I felt like I was in goddamn Vietnam!" Apparently this is remarkably funny to everyone else, though I get the feeling they're probably just amused at my misfortune, but they all crack up like Humpty Dumpty and I'm left shaking my head, trying not to give in. Bobby looked down at his watch.

"We'd better get out to the parking lot, you guys, Professor Summers will be here any minute." Boy scouts always help each other out, damn their honor. We pull ourselves to our feet, grab our respective purchases and head off downstairs. A few short minutes later and we're all picked up in a large van, Kitty and Jubilee, of course, arrive late.

"So sorry Professor, there was a huuuuuuge sale at Sacs, we didn't even- hey, there she is!" Jubilee gushed, flailing at me from the middle of the van. I was thankful then that I'd crammed myself into the back row, as she ended up accidentally smacking one of the other students in the head with a shopping bag. "Adrian, what happened to you? We lost you at Macys!"

Rogue barely manages to cover up her grin as I respond. "I, er, I had to use the restroom and I got lost trying to find you guys again. Sorry about that, I'm still getting used to the area."

Jubilee flashed me a grin. "It's all cool chica, we picked you up some stuff we thought you'd like anyway." The snicker from John spoke volumes and I thanked them, trying not to reveal my growing horror. If what they chose was in any way remotely like Jubilee's coat, I didn't want to think about it, it was simply too ghastly an option to consider. Barely able to make out the clock at the front of the van from my vantage point between Rogue and Piotr, I noticed that it was almost dinner time, the luck at having missed not only one, but two classes quite invigorating indeed. It was Wednesday today, my one week anniversary of leaving L.A., meeting Logan and in return accepting my lot in life as a member of mutant society. With the knowledge of there being no massive, impending projects having been bestowed upon us earlier in the week, no piles of homework (save Summers' inane questionnaire) perhaps I'd have the opportunity to raise a little hell and have some fun. It certainly was an inviting prospect, especially on a school night, and I thought about approaching Logan with some ideas after dinner. That plan was all well and good, of course, until I realized that Logan was not at dinner, nor did he come by later for desert.

Puzzled, I sought out Rogue who was, of course, spending time with Bobby in his room. Already feeling sorry for the awkward conversation that was likely to happen in only a few moments time, I walked over to the boys dormitory and knocked upon the sturdy hardwood of the door. A muffled "Coming!" was heard and I struggled not to giggle like an idiot, wrenching my mind from the it's proverbial gutter. Looking somewhat flustered, Bobby opened the door.

"Adrian, hey. You need help with anything?" He was still polite to me, even when I'd just interrupted alone-time with his girlfriend, the boy really was an angel.

"Actually," I peered guiltily inside for a moment. "I was hoping if I could ask Rogue a question real quick? I promise it won't take long," I added hurriedly, not wanting to impose. He smiled and lead me in, assuring me that it wasn't a problem in the least.

"Whatcha' need, Adrian?" Rogue sat on Bobby's bed, the comforter bearing that tell-tale rumple. Feeling like a complete ass, I spoke.

"I was wondering if you knew where Logan might be, I didn't see him at dinner, and he didn't show up for desert, so-"

She laughed. "He's probably on a mission fer the Professor, if you can't find him in the Danger Room, of course. Ah wouldn't worry 'bout it, he always comes back just fine."

Well, so much for that plan. Thanking the pair as expediently as possible I fled the scene, heading downstairs. I frowned, chewing my lip as I wondered what I was supposed to do that night. Granted, going into the rec. room and watching television or playing foosball was always an option, but both ideas failed to excite me any more than the notion of going back into Bobby's room and asking if he and Rogue wanted to discuss quantum theories with me. Jubilee and Kitty were still riding out the waves of their post-shopping spree endorphins and while I was rather fond of the two girls I was loathe to put myself at their mercy a second time. Piotr had wisely chosen to avoid them as well, instead aiding some of the younger students in some homework (something I plan on avoiding at all costs for the time being) and John was nowhere to be found. Just as well, I decided, as I really didn't feel the need to have to put up with his shit at the moment. My feet made their way into the kitchen thoughtlessly and, with nothing better to do, I decided to acquaint myself with the contents of various cabinets.

"Viva la revolucion, this is the lamest fucking celebration ever," I muttered darkly, glancing over cans and bottles in one cupboard before shutting it and moving disinterestedly to another. I wasn't even hungry, just stupidly bored and restless. I'd almost made my mind up to go back and deal with Kitty and Jubilee's temporary insanity when I espied something rather curious in the back of one of the higher cabinets. Climbing up onto the counter top I peered into it and carefully reached into the back of it to pull the item out for closer inspection. It was then that I realized that there was, in fact, a god, the label read "Maker's Mark" and I practically squealed with my joy. Whiskey, sweet mother of all that is holy, I'd found whiskey. Now if only I could find a place to go and drink it unbeknownst to my fellow students. I didn't know to whom this great boon belonged, but at this point I hardly cared, I'd challenge Logan to a slap fight for it if it meant I had the chance of taking it. Jumping down from the counter and shutting the cabinet softly, I removed my scarf and wrapped the bottle as inconspicuously as possible. I was in the middle of doing thus, in fact, when I heard a derisive snort from over my shoulder.

"Mills, that looks so goddamn obvious, you might as well uncork it right now and run down the halls with it yodeling."

Of all the lousy motherfuckers I didn't want to run into, it had to be him. "John, as always your attention to detail continues to exceed expectation. But really, what are you going to do, tattle on me? That's rather childish, even for you."

"Which is why you're going to buy my silence," he smirked. "Really, it's only fair, I'll be doing you a favor. That's Summers' bottle, you know."

Prissy Scott Summers drank something and it wasn't Budweiser or Zima? "Bullshit. If it belongs to anyone at this place, it's Logan's. Professor Summers would be out of his league drinking Miller Lite for fuck's sake." A below-the-belt strike for any true alcohol connoisseur, but it needed to be done. John merely shrugged.

"Say what you like, but that bottle's only a third of the way gone for a reason." He makes to leave, pausing in the doorway. "And hurry the fuck up, will you? I know a place we can go to that's a little more private."

I'm this close to smashing the equivalent of liquid gold over the flame-thrower's head and saying to hell with it. Yet I follow regardless, because I have no other plan and I'd be a fool to think I knew this place better than he did in only my first few days living here. None of tonight is turning out the way I wanted it to and I'm beyond irritated with the knowledge of it, even with the purloined bottle of alcohol in my hand it takes a concentrated effort on my part not to sulk. It's only nine o'clock and twilight has set in, shadows stretching in through the windows as we make our way upstairs and down another set of long corridors. He pauses before what looks to be a storage closet and opens it revealing, to my amazement, a darkened stairwell. "Where does that lead?" I ask quietly, peering up into the murky blackness above.

His lighter is in his palm as he sets his foot on the bottom step, flicking it open with a snap. "The attic, and then the roof." Starlight and whiskey, like last summer. God I missed Maggie. John drew a ball of fire into his hand and closed the Zippo, orange flames dancing merrily as we navigated the stairs under the glow. We walked the length of the attic in silence, footsteps quiet and controlled as we passed above the dormitories below. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered if Kitty and Jubilee could hear us, the prospect of Kitty phasing up through the floor quickened my pace towards the lone window at the other end.

"What's wrong, Mills, afraid of the dark?" I glared at the back of his head futilely, knowing my reaction to be useless. He laughed quietly, closing his fist on the flame as soon as we reached the window, which swung open with a heave. Stepping out onto the flat expanse of the roof, John moved aside and allowed me room to pass by, though barely.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind moving sometime? Unless you're fond of the idea of your alcohol provider slipping and falling three stories," I raised an eyebrow coolly, looking about. The flat patch of roof we had to ourselves wasn't very large, but it was enough to sit comfortably and relax under the sky. This place, I decided, was my new getaway when things became too cumbersome down below in the dorms. I was well aware that John had probably staked it for himself, but he could fuck off if he didn't want my company. Or I could blast him with the hose I felt dripping water all that way down below. The idea made me smirk as he closed the window somewhat and sat against the wall below it, looking up at me with a bored, expectant gaze.

"Are you going to stand there all night? Sit down, you're making me nervous."

"And if I want to?" I quirked an eyebrow again, being facetious, satisfied when he rolled his eyes and sighed irritably. My point made, I moved and sat down next to him, a decent amount of space between our two bodies as I unwrapped the bottle of whiskey I had in my scarf. This was, after all, St. John Allerdyce, goodness knows I didn't want him to breathe on me too heavily. Uncorking the bottle I held it out to him. I may be many things, but I'll never have anyone call me impolite. I am always gracious, even to a complete dickwad like Prometheus. He accepted it wordlessly and took a large swig, wincing slightly as he swallowed.

"Not bad, is it?" I asked when he handed it back, taking a small drink. "My father drinks this stuff, it's not the highest ranking brand, but it's pretty damn good for commercial alcohol."

"Considering that I'm usually chucking back Jack or Wild Turkey, it's all right," he acknowledges, looking ahead and out into the landscape beyond. I hand him the bottle back and sit up, fishing around for my cigarette pack. Finally prying them out from my jean pocket I take one out, patting my pockets for a lighter and finding none. Goodness, I really am incapable.

"Here," John extends his hand, Zippo open and flaming in the other as he sets the bottle of whiskey between his thighs. I give him my cigarette and watch in the failing light as he sets it between his lips, before I have any real time to protest, bringing the flame to the tip and inhaling as it catches. For a brief instant I'm mesmerized, watching him breathe in, the hollows of his cheeks constricting momentarily as he flicks the lighter closed and pulls the cigarette away from his mouth. He lets the smoke out slowly, allowing it to drift in lazy curls up past those full lips of his and into the air surrounding us. Without a word he passes the cigarette back to me and takes another sip of whiskey. This time he barely flinches.

"Thank you," I say, finding my voice after a moment. I take a long pull off the end of the cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a long, even stream. Whatever I'd managed to quell within me before starts to rail and shake against its bonds and I'm doing my best to ignore it clamoring below. I take the bottle from him and sigh contentedly. "It's fucking gorgeous outside. Do you come up here often?"

He shrugs noncommittally and for a second he reminds me of Logan. I grin softly into the approaching darkness and take another drag. "Sometimes. I usually come up here if I want to get away from Bobby and Rogue hogging the room or if there's nothing on TV. It's a good, quiet place, there aren't many of them here."

I snorted. "Noted. This place if a fucking beehive of activity, my room included." The buzz from the alcohol was light, but noticeable, I could feel it coursing through my veins with that soft, sweet burn so copiously attributed to fine liquor. Even John was starting to loosen up, something I'd never really witnessed before. He sat more easily, his breathing free and unburdened. He wasn't uptight like Bobby, but he definitely had a lot on his shoulders. Fuck, who didn't at this school? Inhaling off my cigarette again I was almost startled when he plucked the thing from my lips, setting it between his own again.

"You know, I can give you one if you really want it." I wasn't as annoyed as I should have been, the whiskey made everything smooth in me, laid me back without concerns and the vast multitude of irritations that should have assailed me, but refused to under the circumstances. I took another sip, settling the bottle in the space between us.

"Nah," he let the smoke curl up and out again, like flames, caressing and dissolving. "Yours will do."

The way he said it was so matter of fact I found myself hard-pressed to argue, but lacked the volition to really go all out with it. If anything I almost admired him for it. "Ass. You make it sound like I'm not good for anything else."

He smirked. "Well, you haven't exactly proved yourself otherwise. So far you've sort of been a huge pain in the ass, you got me landed in detention and everything. Fuck, Bobby hasn't even gotten me in detention with Summers yet."

"What, and ruin his sparkling, pristine record? Please," I chuckled. "Bobby getting a detention would signify the beginning of the Apocalypse. I'd be freaking out listening for horse hooves."

And then it happened, John laughed. Not his usual snide, sarcastic snicker, but a truly genuine sound that almost seemed to erupt forth from inside him. It baffled me, and I sat there, trying not to gape as he spoke. "God, that's so fucking true. He's such a fucking goody-two-shoes, it's so lame."

I resisted the urge to break out into song with Adam Ant and shrugged. "But he's your roommate and you're friends. Honestly, it could be worse."

John shook his head, bringing my cigarette to his lips before passing it back to me. "Christ, don't I fucking know it." I want to implore him to continue, but he's got that sour expression on his face and I know that now probably isn't the greatest of times to pry. I mean, good god, the last time I did something like that Logan looked like he wanted to hurl himself out of his goddamn truck. I raise the cigarette to my mouth one last time before crushing the filter out on the roof, washing down the smoky flavor with a different sort of burn.

"You're from around here, aren't you?" I ask, staring up at the sky now as the stars begin to blink into existence.

He sighs. "New Jersey, actually."

"Same fucking difference. Well, virtually everything is when you come all the way out from California."

"Right, the Valley or some shit like that?" I can almost hear him roll his eyes.

I sigh. "Fuck the Valley, I hated that place. It's so goddamn hot there, and everyone's a jackass, it's so ridiculously over-rated." I pause, toying with the bottle label. "Maggie and I always used to talk about packing up, heading north for college, to San Francisco or something where it actually rains for more than a month out of the year. The desert is so miserable, then again, you'd probably love it. You probably like heat, don't you?"

He's got his lighter out again, moving it around in his palm contemplatively. "I don't mind it, it's not too bad. As long as it's not fucking freezing and there's no humidity I'm usually set."

"I presume New Jersey's out of the question, then?"

"I'd rather shoot myself in the fucking head then go back there. Or be human, I'm not really sure which is worse," the bottle of whiskey sounds a bit less full now as he sets it back down. That was one thing I hadn't really understood in my coming here, the blatant sort of distaste and fear a lot of the students had for human beings. I mean, granted, everyone has their issues, but to loathe an entire race for the stupidity of a select few? I'm guessing this view is due to my having been brought up in a more liberal household and not having been chased from my hometown by an angry mob with pitchforks running after me. We lapse into silence for a few minutes lost in our own thoughts and consumed with the warmth of the whiskey we've been passing the last half hour. Drinking usually makes me contented though, providing I'm not in a completely wretched mood to begin with, and soon enough I'm practically bursting with silly glee, singing to myself and the glory of the night.

"The doctor says I'm livin'
On precious borrowed time,
With all the time I'm givin'
To liquor beer and wine.
The X-rays of my liver,
look like molded old Swiss cheese,
My heart pumps blood and alcohol,
Through hardened arteries."

John gives me a funny look, ending my singing effectively. "What the hell is that shit? It sounds like you're gonna start wailing about how your wife left you," he chuckles. God, we're both drunk on a school night, we're going to get so much shit for this from the Professor tomorrow.

"It's the Reverend Horton Heat, now mind yourself. I won't tolerate you speaking ill of him in my presence." It sounds so preposterous leaving my mouth I giggle, despite whatever sincerity I was trying to convey.

"Or what, you'll sing at me some more? Though I do admit, you sound better than Bobby crooning along to Sting, ugh." He shudders and I laugh again before deadpanning.

"I could make you piss yourself."

Now John laughs, hard. After a few seconds he takes in my expression and stops. "Wait, are you serious?"

I shake my head, chortling at the look on his face. "I don't fucking know, I've never tried it. What, are you up for being my guinea pig?"

"Fuck no. I may look stupid, but I've never intentionally pissed myself and I don't plan on starting it any time soon." Realizing the drunken hilarity of his words we relapse into our mirth.

I stop after a bit, finally managing to catch my breath through the aching of my ribs. I turn my head towards him, regarding him in the darkness. "You know, you're not such an asshole when you're drunk. It's kind of nice."

He snorts. "You seem to absolutely love me when I'm killing vital organs, Mills."

Oh, whine about it some more. Honestly, some people can never let things go. "I was teasing, you jackass. I just meant- I don't know, it's nice when we're not constantly one-upping each other for who has the wittiest comeback, and let's see who can infuriate the other the furthest before we come the blows over the dinner table?"

"Really?" He seemed thoughtful for a moment, though it was hard to really make anything out in the dark that had settled in. "Hm… remind me to go straight-edge, then. I'm obviously not doing my job properly as resident jackass of the school."

I guffawed in disgust. "Oh god, John, that's fucking awful! You know the score, man! They're the worst thing on the musical hierarchy! That's just, oh god, I think I'll be sick!"

I could hear the smirk in his voice as he brought his lighter out, flicking it open and closed, playing with the flame as he lit it up. "Turn your head the other way then, I don't want you barfing on me."

"Oh John, you're so gentlemanly." If words were cloth you could have wrung the sarcasm out of my voice and hung it up to dry. "I was just kidding you ass, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Trust me, if there were panties around, I wouldn't be twisting them."

"Probably not," I mussed. If he was so keen on getting a pair, it probably wasn't wise that I mentioned owning any. Ever. "Perhaps you'd be mopping your brow with them after a hard days work? Or writing down to-do lists on the backside?"

"I can think of better uses," he replied smugly.

"Can you really? Somehow I doubt that, St. John, and not due to the intended piety of your name, either."

The air changed between us and he turned, shifting his body to face me. "What, you don't think I've ever been with a girl before?"

"With a girl, god no," I giggled into my hand, suddenly unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. Christ, some people get uppity at the most asinine things when they're inebriated.

"Well, I have been with one, a few, actually." His gaze was challenging, insolent bordering on smug.

"All right… you want a cookie for that Allerdyce or is there a reason you're telling me this? I mean, I'm glad to know you're a healthy young guy and all, but you hardly seem the type to regale the few sexual experiences you've had at a moments' notice." I smiled, a hint of mischief playing in my expression. "Besides, I don't think Jubilee wants to hear me giggle every time she walks into the room."

For a second John looked completely and utterly flummoxed. It's a look, I might add, that I find rather becoming upon him, along with the notion that I know more than he does. Egos aside, he finally talks. "You- how the fuck did you know that? You weren't even here, that was like, a year ago." He stops for a moment, then quickly continues. "We only made out, I mean, it's not like it was anything huge." He takes another sip of the Maker's Mark. "What about you? You got a status?"

"A 'status'? God, you make it sound so formal." I don't usually talk to people about this sort of thing unless it's in an extremely candid environment. But he had that intense gaze of his going on again, and he flicked his lighter open, igniting a flame and palming it as before, giving the entire feel of it all this strange, burning sensation. Good god, I really am drunk. "If you're asking if I've ever been with anyone sexually, the answer is yes."

"Awesome, you and I can be the school's fucking resident non-virgins, then," he laughed.

I cocked my head to the side, regarding him. "What made you bring it up? I mean, fuck, you're arrogant, but you don't usually go off harkening your sordid tales to the nearest person."

John shrugs, extinguishing the flame. "Just felt like it, I guess. Liquor loosening the tongue and all that shit." God forbid that he ever tells me he's comfortable around me or anything. I look down at my watch squinting at it through the night.

"Mother of all holy fuck, it's almost eleven!"

I'm met with a yawn in response. "Your point?"

"I- well, we missed curfew. Aren't we going to be in a whole shitload of trouble in a few hours?" In response he moved himself forward, away from the wall, and laid down, putting his hands behind his head.

"Not if you can hold your liquor and don't fuck up tomorrow," he fingered the end of my scarf, which lay discarded by his chest, for a second before bunching it up and putting it beneath his head as a makeshift pillow.

"What about Bobby?"

He looked up at me as if I were either mad or a very small, stupid child. "Fuck Bobby. He knows better than to expect me to follow all the rules here. He'd probably freak out if I came back in before midnight."

"Well, I'm really not too keen on scaring Jubilee, Kitty or Rogue, but I don't think they'd be too thrilled with my stumbling in drunkenly either. I'll sober up a bit before heading in." I corked the bottle and leaned back, stretching as leisurely as possible without causing too much pain.

Silence fills the space between us as the minutes pass by. I'm trying to will awareness to my limbs, urge my body out of its drunken relaxation to no seemly avail. I give up, knocking my head lightly against the brick. John's flicking his lighter again, eyes gleaming with starlight. Welcome to Mutant High, I toast the sky quietly, though I've no alcohol in my hand to commemorate it, I'm quite finished with my exploits for the evening. My silent salutation goes unnoticed and I'm not bothered by it in the least.

I turn my gaze down to the boy beside me, flicking his lighter, presumably lost in his own thoughts. His life here seems almost surrounded by opposites, his roommate, me, the very nature of this place. He hasn't let himself go far enough to become the element he manipulates, but he could quite easily if he pleased. It's an interesting notion to entertain and part of me wonders why I've spent almost every single night here with him. Infuriating as he is, I almost enjoy his company. In fact, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't liked drinking with him tonight. It was almost as if we were equals for this bit of time, only a slight lean towards the antics we usually prepare ourselves with when we're around one another. One on one, St. John Allerdyce and I actually manage to get along. I can see the headlines of the school paper now; "Sworn enemies are really BFF! See page six for more details!"

"What?"

I didn't even realized I'd laughed at the thought until he looked up at me, a hint of curiosity written upon his features. I shake my head. "Don't worry about it, I'm just contentedly under the influence. I hope I'm not invading whatever deep thought you're partaking in."

He sits up, stretching his arms above his head for a second before moving to stand. "You're probably one of three people on campus to actually credit me with thinking, much less anything above eating, sleeping and going out of my way to piss people off. Come on, we should head in before Dr. Grey does her telepathic once-over of the school and realizes we're still out."

He extends his hand down to me and I blink at it before accepting it and lifting myself up. Flesh makes contact with flesh for a brief moment and I'm thoroughly startled with myself when I begin to wonder if he moisturizes. He bends down to retrieves my scarf off the ground and steps toward me, wrapping it carefully back around my neck. The simple kindness of the act touches me as he lifts my hair out from beneath it, making sure everything is in its right place. He's move observant than any of us here give him credit for, and I want to express my gratitude towards him for it.

Before I can do anything other than stand there awkwardly, though, he moves the bottle out of the way of the window and opens it again, moving back inside. I see the light of fire spring into existence and I follow quietly, loathe to break the calm that's settled amiably between us. It's his way of saying "thank you", I realize, and it brings a smile to my face. He reaches out for my hand again, the other one held aloft, cupping flame, and leads me carefully through the maze of the attic and down the stairs. I try my best not to hold it tighter than the decency of our relationship allows as we navigate our way along in the silence.

Extinguishing the fire, we stand still for a moment at the bottom step, listening intently. It feels like there's spiders crawling up the back of my neck, but I know the feeling of the hairs prickling there and I try to ignore the sensation working its way into my stomach. I cannot deal with silly trivialities at the moment, the situation is too tenuous as is and I know it. After a minute of waiting, breaths quiet in the close quarters of the staircase, he opens the door and we emerge to the emptiness of the hall. Look both ways before crossing out into the empty traffic of the mansion, and we do, ears strained, listening for any sound other than the two of us trying to be as quiet as possible. Even my heartbeat sounds overly-amplified in my present state, quickening for a moment as he drops my hand in what seems like an afterthought when we make it round the corner.

I almost expect to run smack into Logan, or Professor Summers if God really, truly hated me, but the coast is clear and I'm not the only one sighing with relief. I bite back a chuckle as we carry on, sticking close in the semi-darkness of the corridors. We finally reach the fork in our proverbial road and I stop, looking up at him. I move my mouth without sound and I know he sees the words "thank you" appear when he gives me a nod, a variant of his trademark smirk ghosting on his face. He leans down for a moment, his breath tickling my cheek as he whispers softly into my ear. "We should do that again sometime, I know where Munroe stashes her tequila."

I grin outright, nodding as he pulls his face back. He turns to leave, giving me a wave before he's around another corner and gone from my sight. This is an interesting double life, one I'm more than happy to lead as I mull things over on the way back into my room. We'll be back to our usual banter in the morning, of that I'm certain, but I can't help the sensation of knowing that he may just be one of the best friends I'll be making at this place. It's surreal, considering who we are, and especially the way we behave around one another, but I feel it in my marrow and I know it to be true.

Between him and Logan, I keep decidedly peculiar company, and when you throw the others in there, Piotr, Jubilee, Kitty and Rogue, I have an emporium of oddities, a full spectrum of human nature for my viewing pleasure. Smiling, happy with myself and my lot in life here in this grand mansion in Westchester, New York, I go to the door of my dorm. Opening it soundlessly, I step inside, readying myself for the small bit of sleep I'm about to receive before a volley of classes tomorrow and a lecture I'm positive, at this point, is worth it. Nerves buzzing happily, I remove my socks and shoes quietly, throwing my scarf up on my dresser and stripping out of my pants. I don't bother changing into my pajamas, the weariness of the day hitting me like a Mach truck the moment I crawl into bed. Three minutes later and the light in my brain flicks itself off. My last conscious thoughts are of how strange and ironic it should be that it sounds distinctly like the closing of a Zippo before the darkness of the room consumes me and I cease to be for those few precious hours before dawn.
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Lyrics belong to Reverend Horton Heat's 'Liquor, Beer & Wine'.

Again, forgive me for the length of this latest installment, I couldn't find a seemly point to break it up when I finally realized just how long it was. Also, Reviews Love. Take care!