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X Men III: The Fan Stand

X-3: X-Men's Stand 2/??

X Men III: For Fans By Fans

X-3: X-Men's Stand 2/??

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X-Men Jean cerebro
Author: ghanistarkiller or mrs_peel_fanfic
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Still a provisional (and not very good) title. I'm showing my age with some of the dialogue I pinched from the comics, I think, heh.


2.

“Hold me still, Dee,” Kitty screwed her face up as the chair beneath her feet teetered perilously. She stretched out again, her hands trying to reach the top corner of the doorjamb as Siryn, brushing the ginger hair from her pale, freckled face, held on to the back of the would-be ladder. “Deidre, steadier!” she squealed as she wobbled again. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted just the man she was looking for. “Hey, Piotr, help me out here!”

Colossus smiled lopsidedly, maybe even a little bashfully, as he strolled over to her. “Ready?” he asked her as, timidly, he put an arm around her waist. She nodded and he lifted her small form effortlessly. Sitting on her shoulder, Kitty cried out triumphantly as she fastened the end of the hand-painted ‘Happy Birthday Bobby’ banner to the wall.

“It’s looking good,” Jubilee paused in the doorway, Rogue at her side, praising the work Kitty had done in transforming the students’ common room into surprise party central. “Hey, Pete, I could use your help cramming for the exam later on, if you have the time. I’m, like, way behind and I’m just not getting the material.”

“Sure thing, Jubes,” he assured her, forgetting for a moment the slight weight poised upon his shoulder as he turned too quickly and knocked Kitty off balance. Attempting to counterweigh himself and her, he overcompensated and the two of them went tumbling forward towards the wall.

“Close your eyes, Pete!” she warned in a high yelp, wrapping her arms about his head, instinctively phasing herself and, through her touch, Piotr, into intangible, translucent shadows. They fell through the floor on the other side of the wall and onto a couch in a jumble of arms and legs, Kitty half-reclining in his lap.

“What just happened?” he asked, putting a slightly shaking hand to his furrowed brow. He was lightheaded, disoriented, as most were the first time she shared her ability with them, and he looked so adorable in his state of confusion.

“That’s what phasing feels like,” she told him, laughing. “And this is what a kiss feels like.” Taking advantage of the giddy mood of the moment, she leaned forward and, throwing her arms about his neck, gave him a playful peck upon the lips. “You’re blushing!”

As his eyes cleared, he glanced up at her, cheeks flushed. “I'm angry!” he insisted.

“It was worth it,” she shot back, and then her grin slowly dissipated. Again their mouths met in an awkwardly honest kiss, tenderly exploring the sensation.

“Ahem,” Storm cleared her throat and the both of them looked up, mortified, as they realized they had landed right in the middle of one of the teachers’ lounges. She arched an elegant eyebrow at the two of them as they stammered their apologies, climbing hastily off the sofa, almost tripping over their own feet to escape the humiliation. She chuckled, shaking her head as the door closed on their hurriedly retreating backsides. Ororo shook her head, the wisps of her shaggy white bobbed hair whirling about her face like a flutter of clouds. “They’re growing up so fast,” she reflected aloud.

“They always do,” responded Charles Xavier wistfully from his place at the picture window, gazing out over the cool muted colors that spring brought as it balanced between the lush warmth of summertime and the lingering chill of winter. He seemed so pensive these days, Storm couldn’t help but notice, placing her hand on his shoulder affectionately; not sad, necessarily, but thoughtful and apprehensive in some ways, almost as if he were expecting something, waiting for the tension to break. Whether it be Magneto, or the political climate, or someone...something else.

“There’s a storm coming,” she said softly, looking to the fretful seasonal sky.

***


“So,” Jubilee pulled the gum from between her teeth with her fingers in a long, sticky purple string before biting it back into her mouth. She flopped down onto Rogue’s bed, considering the sparse surrounding space. Rows of worn paperback books, predominately brightened by the vibrantly colored and creased spines of romance—and some fantasy and science fiction—novels, tidily lined the shelves. Here and there a personal object, like a framed photo or a pez dispenser, broke the orderly sameness, but they were few and far between. Only one poster was carefully tacked to the wall above the bed, a tour advertisement for the Gorillaz’s Jones Beach engagement that Bobby had taken her to for her birthday.

Rogue took a seat next to her, pushing her friend’s boots off of the bedspread with a nudge of her socked toes; she’d removed her shoes when they had entered. “Anyone ever tell you you’re, like, totally hopeless OCD?” Jubilee teased, snapping at her gum. “Seriously, it’s freaky. Hasn’t anyone told you you’re practically a twenty-something now, you only have a few good years left where it's jusifiable to be a slob?”

Rogue laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind if I...”

“So, it’s true, the Professor gave you ‘THE TALK’?” asked Jubilee cautiously. Around the X-Mansion, THE TALK was a rite of passage that every student in time would endure. It wasn’t a parental lecture on safe sex or drug use, or any of those other relevant issues adults always seemed to feel were important enough to risk death by embarrassment. Most of the kids who attended Xavier’s School for the Gifted weren’t familiar with those sorts of familial rituals anyway, which is what made the question posed during THE TALK all the more difficult to cope with.

It was a school, after all, and, at some point, the choice had to be made: Off to college to continue or complete your education and become a productive member of society, or stay and train to become a full-time member of the X-Men. The second option was alluring, it seemed glamorous, and many of the kids came to the school with dreams of joining the team, but after a year or so, reality would set in. Rogue had stayed on well after her eighteenth birthday and, sooner or later, she knew the Professor would have to sit her down for THE TALK.

“Yeah,” Rogue answered timidly, shrugging a little as she pushed her hair behind her ear. “But I haven’t, you know, decided anything yet. I got some material on NYU and a few things from Brown, too.” Piotr had chosen to stay two years ago, and now both Kitty and Bobby had made their intentions for the end of the year known as well.

“Cool,” said Jubilee thoughtfully. She glanced slyly at her friend through the corners of her eyes. “So, tell me, does all of this have to do with those special private lessons you’ve been taking with Ms. Braddock?”

“Only if you tell me it ain’t French you wanna study with Pete later,” Rogue joked.

“Oh please,” laughed Jubilee, “I wish! Everyone knows that Piotr is, you know, spoken for.” Rogue looked at her, quirking her eyebrow incredulously; she’d obviously missed out on some prime gossip, which was practically Jubilee’s secondary superpower. “Well,” she continued, “in spirit anyways. Everyone knows that he’s smitten for the Kitten! Wants to ride with the Pryde.”

“Kitty, really? I always thought he was kinda sweet on Deidre, or maybe the other way ‘round…” Rogue grinned. But before she could dig for more dirt on the subject, a cheery ringtone indicated that she had a text message.

“Private French lessons with Bobby perhaps?” Jubilee bit her bottom lip to stop from grinning too broadly as Rogue wrinkled her nose at her sourly. “Voulez-vous au coucher avec moi ce soir?”

“It’s Storm, she says the Professor wants to see me. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” she explained vaguely, standing and swinging her backpack onto her shoulder.

“Mm hm,” Jubilee smirked dismissively, casually picking up a magazine from the bedside table and flipping through it.

“Mm hm,” responded Rogue playfully over her shoulder with an open smile as she walked out of the room.


TO BE CONTINUED


Peace, Ghani
  • :LOL: Smitten for the Kitten. Wants to ride with the Pryde
    *dies*
    • Heh! :-D

      One of Rat-face's biggest crimes: Hiring Ellen Page, making Kitty so fantastico, and then doing nothing with her! Grrr!

      ♥ Kitty
  • Meet your perfect lover and Be Naughty today! Go Here dld.bz/chwZR
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