A navy blue ribbed sweater pulled over a blue-and-white-checkered button-down and dark, solid tie complimented the pressed khakis young Scott Summers had donned this morning. The young man, however, was not concerned about his appearance at present. Instead, he anxiously unpacked his full suitcases, folding and unfolding various items of clothing and hanging them on thick, white plastic hangers or stacking them away in the safety of the fine, oak dresser. Scott picked up his program from the opening ceremony: "settling-in" hours were from precisely 10:00 A.M. to 12:00 P.M. He glanced at the red digital numbers on the clock he'd practically set at his bedside.


His roommate technically had seventeen minutes until he was officially late.

Scott's eyes wandered across the room, landing on a framed copy of the school rules, printed in neat, strict font and centered down the middle with precise clarity.

No student will be seen with a member/members of the opposite sex past 8:00 P.M. on weeknights and 11:00 P.M. on weekends unless granted permission by a staff member.
No student may leave school grounds on weeknights and must return by 11:00 P.M. on weekends.
All students will be appro-

The door swung open and Scott's head whipped to the side. His roommate stood leaning against the frame, sunglasses perched on his nose and a backpack swung across his shoulder. "You must be Scott." He stumbled into the room, heading for the bed Scott had clearly claimed as his own with comforter, bed sheets, and books on the end table. The tall, lissome boy stopped upon noticing Scott's belongings. "You stole my bed," he said, his words slightly slurred and obviously said with much effort.

Slightly confused, Scott tilted his head and asked, "Should I move my stuff?"

The boy flipped a hand in dismissal, tossing his bag onto the other bed. "Nah, don't worry 'bout it."

"Good, 'cause I wasn't going to." Scott retorted. The other boy raised his eyebrows and slid the shades down just low enough so that his gleaming eyes peeked over. Finally, he took the sunglasses off altogether and stood looking at Scott, his body weight shifted to one side and mouth quirked into a very slight, incredulous smile.

"Remy LeBeau," he said, and added just as simply, "New Orleans."

"Scott Summers, New York."

Remy spoke while he pulled a chair from his desk and straddled it. "What part of New York, den?"

Scott remained standing. "Almond. Almond, New York. No wealth, no inheritance, no senator father, just me and my brains which you can damn-well bet is what earned me every ounce of my scholarship."

"Woah, woah, brot'er." Remy held his hands in front of him. "Calm down. I don't give a hell if you're Johnny fuckin' Appleseed. You're my roommate this year so we're gonna have to get off on a better foot dan dis, especially when I start bringing in de sweet li'l junior girls and show dem just what deir daddy meant when he said stay away from dem sout'ern boys." He looked around him for a moment and ran a hand through his long auburn hair, oily at the tips and falling between his eyes. His gaze fell on the program for the opening ceremony Scott had left on his desk. Remy stood and retrieved it. "Xavier's Preparatory School for Gifted Students. Heh, sounds like a fuckin' prison, but I t'ink you'll like it here."

Scott was having his doubts. "You dare doubt me?" Remy continued, mock hurt painted on his features. He broke into a grin. "I know what will make you love dis place, for all de reasons I love dis place." He took long, purposeful strides to the door. "A tour!" Scott shrugged, unable to suppress a smile himself. This guy was a card. He recovered a campus map from his pant pocket and turned it in his hands while Remy threw an arm around his shoulder. The older boy crumpled Scott's map and tossed it in the general direction of the trashcan. It missed, Scott noted. "First stop: Marion Leigh."

Scott cocked his head. "Marion Leigh? Isn't that the girls do-?"

"Dat's right."

Disclaimer: This is the part where I dis-claim the X-Men as my own, as if I'd ever claimed them as my own in the first place.

AN: Boom, baby! I am one, review-hungry fan-fic author.

Next: of course, introducing the two lovely ladies. Where this chapter was fairly clean, the next ones, while they won't necessarily be crude, won't be so innocent.

Confusion, mixed assumptions, and sticky infatuations; my work here is done.