Disclaimer: I do not own a lot less things than I normally do not own in this fic. I do not own X-Men. I do not own Ishandahalf's Symbiotic. I do not own ANY pink camouflage with sparkles. The only thing I can take mild credit for is the idea of Spontaneous Combustion
Dedicated to the fabulous Ishandahalf. I hope that she enjoys it!
Combustion due to Failed Symbiosis
Or: Carol Go Boom?
Or: The Only Use for Sparkling Camouflage
Remy was quickly reevaluating Carol's voice on his list of Least Favorite Sounds. Currently, she was tucked safely in between the Chipmonk's Greatest Hits and the sound of a Dentist's Drill, but she was fast approaching the previously uncontested slot held by Nails Scratching Chalkboard.
They were in a mall about three hours north of Bayville. Remy had finally convinced Carol that she could wear more revealing clothes around him--after all, if he had to suffer with her this month he might as well at least enjoy the view--and she had consented, but only if they were as far away from Bayville as possible. She didn't want to risk anyone seeing her and finding out that she could control Rogue's powers. Secretly, Remy was hoping that she would become so addicted to baring her skin and that he would be able to inflate her ego to such an extent that she would forget about her caution and wear skin baring clothes around the mansion. That way, some of Rogue's friends would see that Carol could obviously control Rogue's powers and would be able to corner the bratty girl and question her on it. Maybe the Professor would get involved, and he could beat Carol into revealing how Rogue could control her powers and Rogue would be so grateful to Remy for helping her out that she would…
Remy was interrupted from the only pleasant thing about his day--his daydream--by Carol's high pitched squealing. They were in some elitist store that looked exactly the same as all the other elitist stores she had dragged him into--they even played the same radio station. She was currently holding up what had to be the most ugly piece of clothing in creation. The only good thing about it was that there wasn't much of it. It was one of those handkerchief shirts, and while Remy would have thought he'd died and gone to heaven to see something that…provocative on Rogue's body, the fact of the matter was that the material was wretched. Carol was holding the shirt up with a look of intense concentration on her face, and Remy was standing behind her trying not to gag. It was pink and grey camouflage with sparkles and sequins. The sheer ugliness of the fabric was starting to make his head spin.
That has got t' be de most useless an' stupid fabric I have ever seen in m' life. What is de point of sparkling camouflage?
"Remy, hon, what do you think of this shirt? I really want my boyfriend's opinion. After all, I'm doing this all for you."
Carol turned around to look at him and batted her blue eyes with cloying sweetness.
There was that word again. Remy was really and truly tempted to run away screaming, but the girl in front of him could fly. And the material of the shirt was blinding him so he probably would end up falling into that rack of shirts covered in fake fur and ruffles. He didn't want to risk it.
"Well, belle, I t'ink--"
Carol was looking down at the shirt speculatively when suddenly her eyes widened and she said, "Remy, I don't feel so good."
His eyes narrowed and he observed her suddenly pale face.
Carol's eyes rolled up in the back of her head and there was a distinct poofing sound and Remy gasped as Carol's mouth dropped open and blue smoke came out. It shot towards him for a second before dissipating due to the store's excellent ventilation system.
"Carol? You OK?"
Carol shuddered violently, and blinked her eyes open. They were green.
"What the hell am Ah doing here?" Rogue's unmistakable dulcet tone soothed Remy's tortured ears like honey.
"Rogue?" He checked, just to make sure.
"Remy?" Green, glorious green eyes peered up at him suspiciously. "What's going on? Where's Carol? We didn't switch back--why am Ah here?"
Remy felt undeniable relief. "I t'ink she's gone, chere."
And he couldn't help himself, he picked Rogue up--placing bare hands on what had been Carol's bare arms--and swung Rogue around in jubilation.
"Swamp Rat, are ya trying ta kill yourself?" Rogue screeched when she felt his warm skin on hers.
But nothing happened as a result of their contact except a dizziness which may or may not be the result of her sudden spin.
"We were shopping because Carol could control your powers an' I wanted t' butter her up so dat she'd show de others dat she could so dat dey could get her t' tell ya how t' do it because she wouldn't listen t' me because she was jealous of how beautiful I t'ink y' are an'--" Remy was babbling. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that despite how happy he was that Carol was suddenly gone, the fact that he was out alone with her, on what could only be construed as a date was not going to go over very well with Rogue. In fact, a lead balloon had a better chance of flying. And forget about when she regained enough sense to ask exactly how he had learned that Carol could control her powers in the first place. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was already writing his last will and testament. Hopefully Rogue would let him have enough time to say goodbye to his Tante. And if he was really, really lucky maybe she'd kill him with a kiss instead of throttling the life out of him...
"Woah, woah, slow down, cowboy," Rogue said, holding up her hands to emphasize her point, "Ah need a minute ta thi--what the heck is in mah hand?"
Rogue stared at the offending material and her face turned slightly green. "Don't tell meh she was gonna--Ah think Ah need ta sit down."
Rogue made to throw the shirt away, but while drawing back her hand she collided with the table behind her and her super strength threw it back, causing an unfortunate shower of pink and purple sparkling camouflage shirts to jolt forward and attack her.
Rogue let out a short screech and stared at the truly horrendous material surrounding her. "Ah--Ah can't--aw crap."
And then she fainted.
Remy quickly caught her, sighing in relief and frustration. She couldn't attack him while unconscious and he was willing to bet that the blue smoke that came out of Rogue's mouth was the result of Carol's apparent spontaneous combustion--maybe Rogue's body just couldn't handle the thought of wearing such atrocious material, or maybe it was just sick and tired of being used like a hotel--and he was fairly confident that when Rogue woke up she would be upset, but guiltily relieved that she no longer had an internal boarder.
He very quickly decided that it would be much, much healthier for him if he got her back to the Professor as quickly as possible. He would have to 'fess up, and considering the results of the way his little experiment had run, he was fairly certain that the Professor would protect him long enough for him to escape from the mansion, because once Wolverine found out what he had been doing…or Kitty, or Kurt, or hell, even Scott or Jean--yes, it was definitely a good idea to take Rogue back to the mansion and then take off and let the air clear for a little while.
He picked Rogue up bridal style and felt an unmerited but completely welcome surge of warmth at being able to hold her--her, Rogue, close to him. He knew that he would have to pay for his actions; he had hurt her. But he would be back. After all, the girl in his arms was the girl of his dreams and nothing was going to stand in his way from making her see that he was just the guy for her. He would do whatever it took to win her and keep her.
As he left the store--the clerks hadn't even looked up from their gossiping around the registers--Remy realized that he had never thought he would be so glad he had gone shopping. In his coat pocket, he had stuffed several pieces of the offending sparkling material. He couldn't afford to have Rogue wake up before they got back to the mansion. After all, he had been mistaken. Sparkling camouflage did have its uses.
AN: And that is that. This is what happens when through Ishandahalf's tireless work I have come to hate Carol Danvers more than Belladonna. Amazing, but true. This was originally going to go in my review to Ish's "Symbiotic," but it got too long (and I got scared about the lack of spell check). If you're reading it, you'll understand my frustration. If you're not reading it, you should check it out. If any of Ish's readers have read hers and now read this, I hope it made you feel a little bit better. I know it made ME feel better.
If you enjoyed it, let me know! Or if you can come up with any more
fun alternate titles, I'll gladly post them. Thanks for