I know it's past Valentine's Day, but I started writing this story before that holiday occurred...as well as a little bit of a personal debacle that caused me to be unable to concentrate on anything for about a week. But I still want to post this, anyway. It's probably clumsy and stupid, but I had fun writing it anyhow. The pairings are, if I have these acronyms right, Jott, Kurtty, and Romy, and I guess we can assume that "Blind Alley" just didn't happen. But it is fanfiction, after all, non? *^_^*
For our first date, we went to Denny's
We saw my grandma there and she said she liked your spiky hair
I was so shy cause you were such a handsome guy
I liked you all that time and now you really are mine
Mushy love song sing along but don't think I'm a wussy
Love songs can be stupid but for you kid I will sing a mushy love song
(Mushy Love Song)
Every day, Rogue wondered what deity she had pissed off, what sin she had committed—what horrible thing she had done to deserve having a locker next to Katherine Pryde. It was bad enough having to share a room with the girl some times.
Especially today. The fourteenth. Right now, the offending cat was trying to shove a bouquet of roses the size of a sheep back into her locker. "Wow! Like, what a way to start the morning, right?" Kitty grinned that big, irritating smile at Rogue, who answered it with a frown. "What about you, Rogue? What'd you get?"
Rogue narrowed her kohl-lined eyes. "Ah don't particularly care for St. Valentine's Day."
Kitty chuckled, standing on her tiptoes to better handle the flowers. Her ponytail waved as she laughed. "Don't be silly, it's, like, the most romantic day of the year! Maybe you've got a secret admirerrrrr," she purred.
Rogue swept past Kitty, almost knocking her down. "Aw, go git stuck up a tree."
Kitty stumbled. "Whoa! Like, get a grip, Rogue!"
"I knew she didn't get any," a voice cried down the hall. Risty jogged past Kitty, giggling. "Hey, Rogue, wait up!"
Meanwhile, Kitty turned her attention back to the flowers she was trying to squeeze into her locker. She had no idea who they were from, but it was definitely flattering to receive such a big bouquet! As she closed the door carefully, trying not to crush any of the blossoms, a small card came free of its clip and fluttered to the floor. Kneeling, Kitty picked it up to read it.
for you, Kitty.
That was all it said. Her name was the only word that was capitalized. The ts in Kitty were crossed with two lines, not one. There was no signature.
Kitty looked up and down the hallway, bangs falling over her face. There was no one there.
Jean Grey opened her locker and reached to the top shelf for her history book. Patting one hand over the shelf, she found a box on top of the book. Taking both into her hands, Jean found a small box of heart-shaped candies. Duncan? She wondered, looking for a card. It didn't seem like something he would do, she hated to admit.
Sure enough, the small note with the candies wasn't from Duncan—she'd spent enough time helping him with his homework to know his handwriting. Still, Jean smiled. Secret admirer?
It was only a little pink Post-It note with Happy V-Day Red written on it. One of the heart-shaped candies was attached to the note. You're Sweet, it read.
Jean giggled, a blush rising in her cheeks. I'd better not show these to Duncan, she thought with a little mental sigh.
She looked down at the little candy heart. You're Sweet. It was the only compliment she was likely to get today—she wasn't about to eat it!
The suspense was killing Kurt Wagner. It had taken all of his courage to—
"Why am I always so late! I don't know why I even, like, go anywhere!"
Kurt turned from his locker to see a gorgeous sight—Kitty Pryde running down the hall, her ponytail and chest both bouncing in equally pleasing ways.
"Kitty—" he began, reaching a hand out towards her, but she already had one foot in the classroom.
Kitty's first class of the day was Spanish. Tabitha, who had definitely earned the code name "Boom Boom", managed to look impossibly bored as she lobbed a ball of paper over to Kitty's desk. Kitty squinted and drew back, waiting for the paper to explode.
A minute passed. Two.
When she didn't blow up, Kitty opened one eye. The paper ball was still sitting on her desk. Warily, Kitty unwrapped it.
Hey pretty Kitty, where are you prowling tonight? was all the note said.
Kitty allowed her face to look confused, then glanced back at Boom Boom, who jerked a thumb boredly towards the person who had written the note. Lance Alvers was grinning, waggling his dark eyebrows at Kitty.
Kitty rolled her eyes and smiled, putting the note back down on her desk.
Struck by a sudden thought, she placed the card from the roses next to the note. They looked nothing alike.
Jean Grey had staked out the perfect table in the cafeteria. It managed to be close to the center of attention and face away from Scott and Taryn's table at the same time. Bad enough Taryn was constantly hanging on Scott's arm; Jean didn't need to be staring at them.
"Hello, Hot Stuff." An arm looped around her shoulders. Jean turned her head and smiled.
"Happy Valentine's Day, babe." Duncan grinned at her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Jean smiled, her head turning...
...to meet a pair of ruby quartz glasses.
Scott's face was unreadable; it was so hard to tell what his emotions were with his eyes covered, but she managed to see that he was upset. He quickly turned his head away from her, as if he were unable to look at her.
Jean's heart sank, and Duncan's arm around her suddenly felt like a leaden weight.
Rogue sighed, settling down to eat her lunch at the furthest corner of the quad. Every day it didn't rain—and some of the days it did—she was out there, avoiding everyone.
Clipping her headphones over her ears, Rogue reached into her hiding place—a pipe in the concrete foundation of the school that wasn't used for drainage. Patting around with one hand, she found her stash—a Coheed and Cambria CD, a package of Newports, and—?
And a playing card?
Blinking, Rogue brought the card closer to her face.
"Ace of hearts?" she asked aloud. "How did—?"
She got the distinct feeling she was being watched, and she turned the volume on her CD player up to ten for the rest of the time she spent outside.
Lunch was almost over, so Kitty decided to check out Bachelor #2. Who was, at the moment, spray painting "Pietro rules" on the side of the school building.
"Pretty-Kitty! Just who I wanted to see!" Pietro whirled with a huge grin, his pale eyes snapping.
Kitty brightened. "Really?"
"Yeah! Here, hold this," Pietro said, tossing something into Kitty's hands and leaning in like lightning to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Kit!"
"Huh?!" Kitty barely had time to react before Pietro sped down the hallway in the blink of an eye. "Pietro—wait!" She glanced down at what she now held in her hands—the can of spray paint.
Kitty whirled in front of the silver graffitti on the wall to see an angry face. "Principal Kelly...!" she laughed nervously, realizing how guilty she looked. This wasn't worth it—Pietro had only crossed his ts once.
Kurt sighed, heading back to his locker after lunch. Looking up, he saw Kitty blushing furiously as she waited outside a door.
Blushing? Oh, no...had someone said something to her? It was Valentine's Day...
The door opened, and Kitty blushed harder. It was only then that Kurt saw how sad her face looked. He turned to start walking towards her. "Kitty—"
Principal Kelly stormed into the hallway, frowning at Kitty. "Katherine, get in here—and leave the spray paint outside!"
"Kitty, vait—" Kurt jogged towards the office, but he wasn't going to be in time.
Kitty threw her hands up, following him back into his office. "But Principal Kelly, I didn't..." her voice cried, and then the door slammed.
Kurt sighed, tipping over so his chin was resting on his locker shelf. "Evan!" he called. "Close my locker."
Every X-teen leaving Bayville High that day was glum.
Rogue had spent the entire morning with her eyes on the floor, not returning a single stare, the ace of hearts riding in her pocket.
Kitty had written notes to or spied on just about every boy she could think of, and not a single one had had handwriting that had matched the card that came with her roses.
Scott had tried to interact with Jean as much as possible, but she had given no sign that she had received his small gift.
Meanwhile, Jean had no idea who had given her the heart-shaped candies that had brightened her entire day.
And Kurt's beloved cat hadn't looked his way at all.
Scott Summers was annoyed.
Another Sno-Cap bounced off his shoulder.
"Taryn, stop. Really," Scott said, fed up. He reached a hand over to grasp her wrist mid-throw. She giggled maddeningly at him.
"You're no fun," she trilled, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Come on, honey, it's Valentine's Day!"
Scott wrinkled his nose in the dark of the room. There was something he didn't like about the way she said "honey"—as if they were both seventy-four years old and sitting in matching rockers instead of theater seats. He turned back towards the darkened screen, trying to shrug off his irritation.
Taryn's hands drifted over to the bucket of popcorn that Scott held. She took one handful, two—and then one hand decidedly, purposefully missed the bucket and landed on his thigh.
Startled, Scott jumped before the hand could start stroking. "Taryn!" What had gotten into the girl? It was like as soon as the clock struck midnight on February 13th, everyone started acting strangely...
She giggled again. "Lighten up!"
He forcibly removed her hand from his thigh with a firm grasp on her wrist, being careful not to hurt her. She pretended to pout. "You're breaking my heart."
Scott had no answer for that one.
He shook his head and sighed. "Let's just watch the movie, okay?"
Taryn's hands wouldn't stay still—they were like two pale, nervous birds flitting near his face. He tried to shy away from them—
—and suddenly, without warning, she had plucked his glasses from his face.
Scott squeezed his eyes shut before a disaster could occur. "Taryn. Jesus Christ."
"What is your problem, Scott?!" Taryn shrieked. "You can't wear your glasses during the movie!"
With his eyes clamped tightly shut, Scott found Taryn that much easier to ignore. He didn't bother trying to explain about the glasses—how could he? "Give me my glasses, Taryn."
"Give them back," Scott roared, louder than he had intended to.
"Here!" Taryn shrieked, pressing his glasses into his outstretched hand. Scott put them on just in time to get soda thrown in his face.
This may have looked like a Valentine's Day massacre, but Scott and Taryn definitely deserve some credit. At least they made it into the theater.
"For the last time, Duncan, I am not going to see that," Jean Grey pouted, stamping the spiked heel of one pump on the concrete outside the local cinema. "It's a brainless slasher movie."
"That's the point," Duncan Matthews argued with a cocky smile. "When you get scared, you can curl up in my arms."
It sounded sweet, but Jean still narrowed her eyes with a little shake of her red head. "I don't get scared at movies." If only Duncan knew what she dealt with outside of school. Hockey-masked serial killers wouldn't have scared him, either.
Duncan snorted. "Girls always get scared at movies."
Jean sighed through her nose at the generalization and walked towards another marquee, heels tapping. "How about this one?"
Duncan groaned, slapping one big hand over his forehead. "Jean! That's a chick movie!"
"Duncan!" Jean shot right back, stamping her high-heeled foot again. "I'm a chick!"
Duncan threw his arms up in exasperation and started walking down the block. "You are always doing this. You always have to be difficult."
"I'm difficult? I'm difficult!" Jean's voice rose an octave as she blindly followed him. "When you took us through the drive-up window instead of taking me out to dinner, I didn't complain. And when you decided to 'surprise' me with that bikini as a Valentine's Day present, I didn't bring up what month it is. It's February, by the way," she added dangerously. "Did you even think about that?"
Duncan had had it. "You can think about it on your walk home."
Jean's green eyes shot wide as she saw for the first time where Duncan had been walking—back to his car. "Wait—what?" she asked hurriedly as he slammed the door.
Too late—the car's engine roared to life and it leapt from the curb, leaving her in the glare of taillights. Oh... Jean thought, realizing for the first time how cold it was out and how short her denim miniskirt was. She wasn't normally one to use vulgar language, but a familiar vulgarity almost escaped her lipsticked mouth as she realized she had once again ended a night with Duncan early, and in a bad mood.
As he left the theater, Scott was trying to mop soda from his glasses without taking them off. His head and shoulders were drenched as well.
"Ew!" someone exclaimed behind him. "What happened to you?"
As though he were in a French farce, Scott turned to see the girl he secretly adored—Jean Grey. She was shivering in a denim miniskirt, arms folded around her for warmth. The constricting posture drew attention to her low-necked tank top and cleavage on display. It and her short quilted jacket were fashionable but not nearly enough to keep her warm.
"Jean," Scott said gratefully. "Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes."
She chuckled. "That's ten times funnier coming from you." Stepping closer to him, she ran a gentle finger down his cheek, brought the finger to her lips and licked it almost delicately. Scott felt something in his chest grow tight at the sight of her tongue lapping over her skin.
"Soda?" Jean asked, her pretty face looking puzzled, then sliding right down into disgust. "Diet soda. You don't even like diet soda."
"Taryn really likes diet soda," Scott sighed. "And she thought that it would look best...on my head."
Despite herself, Jean laughed, and Scott found himself smiling at her. She was like salve on a wound; everything always seemed a little better when she was around. She swiped at the hair that fell into his eyes, trying to brush it aside. Her face stilled, grew serious. "What happened?"
Scott waved a hand dismissively. "Nah." He was with Jean now; he didn't want to spoil it by talking about Taryn.
But Jean wasn't having any of it. She folded her arms once again. "Don't make me read your mind."
Scott frowned mockingly. "I hate you," he said, but he was teasing.
She giggled. "I know. That's why we're best friends."
Scott looked at her smiling face and knew he couldn't lie to her. "Taryn kept...teasing me, and she tried to take my glasses. Someone could have gotten hurt!"
Jean pressed her lips together in a rueful smile, her head tilting to one side and her hair falling over one shoulder. "Scott, Taryn doesn't know any better. How could she?"
"But I've told her a hundred times," Scott said, shaking his head. His voice sounded tired. "She didn't have to be such a jerk about it." He lifted his head as if struck by a sudden thought, which Jean overheard. Speaking of jerks...
"Where's Duncan?" he finished aloud. "Shouldn't he be taking you out tonight?"
Jean chuckled sadly and shrugged. "We couldn't decide on a movie."
Scott looked around. "So where is he, bringing the car around?"
Jean looked embarrassed. "He did that already."
Scott's mouth dropped slightly open. "He left you here?"
"I was sort of bitchy to him," Jean said quickly, not wanting Scott to be angry.
But it was too late. "That's no excuse. I have half a mind to go give that jerk a piece of my mind and—"
"No," Jean begged, placing her hands on Scott's chest as if she'd physically stop him. "Please, Scott, just let it go. Besides," she added quickly, "if you leave, I'll have no one to take me home."
It worked. Scott smiled. "Well, allow me, Ms. Grey."
She smiled back and threaded her arm through his as he led the way back to his car. "I'm sorry your date with Taryn didn't go well," she lied, bumping her head against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry your date didn't go well either," Scott answered, making them both liars.
Rogue hadn't wanted to go home. She'd spent the entire day wandering around downtown Bayville, shopping, looking aimlessly through windows at outfits she would never wear, sampling music she had never heard before through stereo headphones attached to the walls of the Virgin Megastore. Finally, she ended up buying two CDs she didn't even want, just to feel as though she had accomplished something.
Night was falling by the time she exited the last store.
"I t'ought you would neva come out of there," a voice called from across the street.
Rogue's head snapped up to see a tall figure in a long coat, smiling brightly enough to make it day again. She answered Remy LeBeau with a frown as he crossed the street to be closer to her.
"If yer gonna stalk some one, it helps not ta talk to 'em." She continued on her way down the block, adding, "Why dont'cha practice a little?"
"Wait up, petite." Remy jogged to keep up with Rogue's indignant, stiff-backed walk. "Remy waited all day."
"That's yer problem, not mahne." Rogue's accent got thicker the more emotional she felt, and it had been a bad day.
Remy sighed, flicking reddish hair from his eyes. "Remy only wanted t'know if Petite wanted t'play a game of cards."
Rogue stopped in her tracks, one hand reaching instinctively to her pocket. "Ya mean this?"
He nodded, eyes deep and dark in the light from the streetlamps. He held up a deck of cards, and Rogue stepped back.
"Ah ain't touchin' those, Cajun. Ya'll miss an' singe mah hair to the roots."
He didn't laugh. He simply held the cards up, waiting for her answer. "Give a man a chance, Petite."
Rogue looked at her watch, at him, then up at the darkening sky. Finally she shook her head at herself and sighed.
"Ya got half an hour, gumbo. Lead th' way."
Kitty pouted at the stove, spoon in one hand. "I actually think this might have been, like, better off if I'd burned it..." she sighed.
"Vhat's cooking, Kitty?"
With a trademark bamf, Kurt Wagner had teleported into the kitchen. Startle, Kitty shrieked and threw the spoon in the air. It landed with a splash of marinara sauce.
Whirling, Kitty pressed a hand over her breast and smiled. "You just scared, like, ten years off my life!" she chuckled. "What's up, tall dark and furry?"
Kurt smiled. "Not too much. I have homevork—I vas going to do it in the kitchen, but if you are busy—"
But Kitty waved a hand. "Nope! Unfortunately, I think dinner's going to be a little late..." She looked briefly sad.
Rogue and Remy had ended up at a table in the park. He smiled at the Rogue over his hand of cards. "Y'may have stolen Remy's heart, cherie, but he has stolen this game." He displayed a full house.
But Rogue had the last laugh. "Not s'fast, swamp rat. Ah've got your heart, all right—an' your spade, club and diamond, too!" She held out a gloved hand with four aces in it.
Remy looked surprised and—pleased? He threw his cards down to the table and chuckled, clapping his hands. "Y've won, chere! Y've beaten Remy at his own game."
"Seems ah have," Rogue murmured, staring into his smile. "What's mah prize?"
It was the moment Remy had been waiting for. He leaned across the table, bringing his face dangerously close to Rogue's. "Anyt'ing your heart desires."
The words touched something in the heart that Rogue wasn't supposed to have, but the result wasn't what Remy had hoped for. Suddenly chilled to the bone, she rose unsteadily from the table, her movements abrupt. "Ah'd—ah'd like ta go home," she murmured, stepping back from the table.
Remy's eyes went distant. "Tu ma fais craquer."
Scott turned the car off, smiling down at the spot on Jean's head where the hair went every which way. She was dozing against his shoulder, both her arms wound around one of his the way he liked. Her body was a solid line of warmth against his side. For the millionth time he asked himself.
Why not? Why not?
Jean murmured something in her sleep and nuzzled against his bicep. Scott gave in to temptation—a little—and kissed the crown of her head, just the warmth of his lips against her hair. He closed his eyes, pretending he wasn't wearing his glasses.
This was the time he liked—when they drove home together, Jean in the passenger seat of the car; when it was just the two of them.
When he could pretend she was his.
Scott parked the car in the mansion's garage. The darkness was cozy and quiet, and Jean didn't want to move for fear of disturbing the lovely silence they'd driven home in.
She felt a light touch on the crown of her head. A kiss? she wondered, her heart rate picking up.
"Are you all right?" Jean whispered.
"We're home," he answered, his breath stirring her hair.
"You're my hero, Scott," she murmured, her head pressing against his arm.
He smiled. "You're sweet."
Jean lifted her head, blinking up into those dark lenses, that handsome smile. You're Sweet...
"What'd you say?"
Scott smiled down at her. "I said, you're sweet."
Realizing for the first time just who it was who always called her "Red"—just who would think she was sweet—who would think to give her a Valentine's present—Jean felt her heart lift for the first time since Duncan's arm had locked around her shoulder earlier that day. She reached up, pressing her lips against her best friend's cheek. "So are you, Scott—so are you."
Scott chuckled. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, but she could tell he wasn't complaining, either. "I should compliment you more often," he laughed.
Rogue was in the room of the only person she knew who took French, pawing through desk drawers and magazines and a framed picture of Jean Grey that seemed to be well taken care of. She tossed the frame carefully onto the bed, then resumed going through his things.
The door opened, bathing her in light from the hallway. Caught red-handed, she turned to glance balefully at the intruder.
Scott Summers was standing in the doorway, with a blushing Jean Grey beside him. Rogue noted that their fingers were intertwined. What were they so happy about? Hmm...
"Rogue? What are you doing in my room?" Scott asked, surprised. His gaze fell to the floor. "That's my schoolbag..."
Oh yeah—she had more important things to worry about. She threw a chemistry book to the side.
"Hey!" Scott reached for the book.
"Where's yer French book, Four Eyes?" Rogue asked urgently.
Scott was completely confused. "Do you need to prop up a table leg?" he asked good-naturedly—everyone knew Rogue wasn't the most studious of the X-teens.
Rogue frowned at him. "Yer a funny boy, shugah. Are ya gonna give me th' book or not?"
Jean was more polite about it. "Do you need help studying, Rogue?" she asked kindly. Usually Jean's pleasant demeanor annoyed the Rogue, because it was harder to be jealous of her when she was nice, but today she almost appreciated it.
Rogue shook her streaked head. "Nah, thanks, Jean, ah just need ta borra' Scott's book if he'll let me." She blinked in what she hoped was an innocent way at Scott, wishing he wouldn't ask so many questions.
Jean turned to Scott, squeezing his hand in a way that wasn't lost on Rogue. "She can borrow it, can't she, Scott? You don't need it tonight."
Rogue could just bet he didn't, judging by that look in Jean's eyes. The southern belle almost laughed. Much as she hated to admit it, Jean and Scott were pretty damn cute together. And if Jean Grey asked for the moon on a silver chain, Scott Summers would never tell her no. Of course he gave in. "Sure, Rogue, you can borrow it." He opened the only drawer Rogue hadn't gotten to and lifted a text book out of it. "Here..."
"Yer a prince, Scott." Just like that, Rogue was on her way out, prize in hand, giving Scott a pat on the cheek with one gloved hand as she went. "Ah'll bring this back, promise. Thanks."
Scott and Jean watched her go down the hall. "You're...welcome?" Scott said, confused.
"What was that all about?" Jean wondered aloud with a smile.
Scott shrugged. "I have no idea, especially since Rogue doesn't even take French class..."
Jean's smile became secretive. "But I bet you're good at it."
Scott shrugged again, not getting it. "Well, I'm sort of okay. My pronounciation kind of sucks but the written..."
Jean laughed aloud, tipping his chin up with a gentle finger. "How can you be so smart and still be so dumb?"
Realization filled Scott's face. French class...
Was it his Jean who was saying such flirtatious things?...
Looking down into her excited smile, seeing the depth of her eyes, he felt a smile of his own creep across his lips. It was his Jean now—and if she could flirt, then so could he. "Well, I'm not sure. Want to test me?"
"Scott Summers, you read my mind," she whispered, eyes shining.
Kitty reached over Kurt for the salt, brushing against his bare arm with her own. She was so preoccupied with cooking that she didn't shudder at his fur, causing Kurt to look up in pleased wonder.
"You okay?" Kitty asked, noting his movement.
Kurt blinked. "Aha—yes. I'm fine, Kitty." He moved a blue arm up to begin his second page of homework. The Ottoman Empire was referred to as the "sick man of Europe" in the—
Suddenly, Kitty grasped his arm and moved it. "Hey—!" Kurt sputtered. His cat was full of surprises today—a trip to the principal's office, fifteen minutes and counting in the kitchen without burning anything, and now she was completely unafraid to touch him.
Kitty was smiling down at his notebook, at his sharp spiky handwriting, her eyes twinkling.
"Vhat?" Kurt asked, double-crossing the "t" in "the". The suspense was killing him. "Kitty, vhat?"
"Ah—" Kitty jumped, placing his arm back down on his book and actually giving it a little pat. "Well, like, nothing!" She gestured quickly to the still-simmering pot. "You want some?" she asked sweetly, dipping a slender finger into the sauce and sucking it clean, her blue eyes trained on him.
Kurt smiled, somehow unafraid to show his fangs to her. "Sounds good."
Rogue looked up from Scott's French book, unshed tears glittering in her eyes, the ace of hearts in her hand. "Ah shatter your heart?" she asked the empty air outside her window.
Across Bayville, two other mutants were crossing paths in the hallway. Closer and closer they came to each other, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller. There was no avoiding it.
Was it fate?
Was it destiny?
The boy raised his head, and the girl met his eyes, her full lips parting to say—
"Ick! Get out of my way, Toad!" Wanda Maximoff snarled, pushing past Todd Tolensky. The Toad stumbled, his shoulder slamming against the wall.
"Love hurts," he joked, placing a hand over his heart and sighing. It seemed that it didn't matter if she insulted him as long as she spoke to him, didn't matter if she pushed him aside so long as she touched him.
"You're so gross!" Wanda spat in passing, her long coat sweeping around her as she stalked down the hall.
The Toad grinned—his day was complete.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Cuddlebumps!"
On the lyrics: "Mushy Love Song" by Tsunami Bomb is my idea of the ultimate love song. It was from their first EP, which consisted of five songs and sounded like it was recorded in a wind tunnel. I love it. They are so good live, too.
On Rogue's stash: I'm also a huge fan of Coheed and Cambria, so I gave a CD of theirs to Rogue *^_^* She and I seem to have the same taste in clothes, so why not music as well? (Shameless plug for Co & Ca—I love them, they're the shit). The series never actually gives evidence that Rogue smokes, either, but I have this strange obsession lately with having the occasional cigarette, so I wrote that in for her. If I had a stash on my old high school campus, that's what would be in it—Second Stage Turbine Blade and a pack of Newport 100s.
On Sno-Caps and throwing them: There is nothing more annoying than someone throwing Sno-Caps at you in a movie theater. Oh, wait, yes there is: Someone throwing Sno-Caps at you in a movie theater and thinking it's funny.
On Duncan and Taryn: Okay, I hate Duncan and Taryn. ...That really doesn't have anything to do with the fic, I just thought I'd mention it. I hate Duncan and Taryn.
On Rogue and Remy's speech: I couldn't resist trying to write in Rogue's Southern drawl and Remy's Cajun accent. Sorry if it all got annoying, but I had a great time.
"You shatter my heart": I'm a big fan of Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake books, and it was in her Burnt Offerings that I learned the phrase Tu ma fais craquer. When I took French last semester for an elective credit, I looked it up. I think its literal translation is something like "You make me break" or "You make me crack", but I'm using Hamilton's translation because it sounds so much sweeter, non? *^_^*
On the pairings in this fic: Yes. I am a huge Jott shipper and a huge Kurtty shipper. Shoot me. Think less of me. I love 'em. And Wanda and Toad—come on, that's almost too much fun!
If anyone reads this, I would love reviews. *^_^*