The Spirit of Giving
Rating: T for profanity
Characters: Logan, Rogue, Jubilee, Scott
Summary: Wolverines are wily. Especially when it comes to revenge.
All standard disclaimers apply. Don't own them, am making no money off 'em, etc.
Rachelmartin64, aka The World's Best Beta, rules.
The Spirit of Giving
The little shit had it coming, Logan thought resentfully.
There was the whole thing with the "flying lessons," which were little more than Xavier-sanctioned Wolverine torture.
There was the fucking mutt, which Summers forced him to baby-sit while Mr. Perfect romanced Jeannie.
There was the smirk, the stiff walk, the I'm-better-than-you attitude, the preppy clothes, the putdowns, the fucking amazing bike the tightassed bastard sure as shit didn't deserve.
And there was the knowledge that Jean shot him down, each and every time, to stay with that little dick, who, Logan was sure, HAD a little dick. Not that Logan looked or nothing in the locker room, but he just had a feeling.
For weeks he'd been contemplating various bloody means of revenge, and for weeks he'd been reluctantly rejecting ideas.
He could beat the suck-up to death with his math books.
No. The school needed a math teacher, and he'd be damned if he was letting Rogue get some half-assed education.
He could castrate Mini-Dick in the Danger Room and make it look like an accident.
No. Chuck would probably shut down the DR, at least for a little while, and he'd be forced to train with the Village People at the YMCA.
He could jump the bastard when he was out jogging with Darwin the beagle and make it look like Summers had been mauled by a pit bull.
No. Darwin would be traumatized for life.
But when Logan learned that the Boy Wonder had reluctantly agreed to fly a few students to Minnesota for the weekend to go Christmas shopping at the Mall of America, he was well-nigh deafened by the thunderous knock of opportunity.
"Now, I ain't coming with you, and I sure as shit don't trust Scooter to do things right, so you better be ready to take care of yourself, Marie," Logan said.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yes, 'Dad.'"
"I mean it, kid," Logan growled. "Watch your purse, keep an eye on your bags, and do NOT talk to any piss-ass twerps, besides telling Wally Cleaver to shove it when he tries to get bossy, you got me?"
"We really do know how to shop, Mr. Logan," Kitty said patiently.
"I got my whole list of things to get," Rogue said, "and just wait until you see what I get you for Christmas, sugar." She smiled winningly.
Logan rolled his eyes. "Just get yourself back in one piece, kid. With Junior Flyboy takin' you there, that ain't as easy as you'd think."
"You're so cute when you fret, sugar."
"I ain't 'frettin',' Logan snapped.
"You're even cuter when you snarl, Wolvie," Jubilee chimed in.
Logan gritted his teeth and reminded himself to concentrate on the big picture: making Summers sorry. He took a deep breath.
"Now, listen, you got about half an hour before the Boy Wonder gets down here and starts acting like he's in charge. And we know how prettyboy carries on if you make a mess on his fucking precious plane. You need a snack? I got you some of those gummi whatsis you like so much. You wanna soda? I ain't letting that dick starve you just so he can keep his plane nice."
Rogue looked at Logan doubtfully. "I dunno, Logan. Scott doesn't like it when we drink soda. He says it's bad for our teeth. And Scott says Jubes shouldn't eat gummies because they get her too hyper. It's the sugar or the dye or something."
And fuck all if Logan wasn't goddamn sick of "Scott says this" and "Scott says that." And since when was Marie on a first-name basis with a teacher? Every fucking time he turned his back Scooter and Marie were more buddy-buddy. Him teaching her how to ride horses and them yakking about mutations all the goddamn time. Wasn't enough the stuck-up twerp had Jeannie, he had to go get all chummy with Marie, too? Just how fucking low could the guy get?
The little shit had it coming, Logan thought grimly, no doubt about it.
"Marie, darlin', I'm just sayin' you might be tired when you get there. How often is Captain Tightass gonna let you go to that place? What'd you say there are, 500-something stores there? An amusement park? You really wanna be dead on your feet when you get there?"
Jubilee elbowed Rogue in the ribs. "He's totally right, chica," she said, helping herself to a fistful of gummi bears. "I plan to enjoy every minute of this trip. This won't make us hyper, it'll make us ALERT."
"That's right, darlin'," Logan said. "ALERT." He shrugged. "When I wanna be super-alert, I drink lots of coffee AND soda." Logan produced a liter bottle of Manhattan Special, an espresso coffee soda he'd discovered in Little Italy. "But I don't think you girls could handle this. It's more like a guy thing."
Jubilee's eyes narrowed. "Hey, buddy, we can 'HANDLE' anything. Who do you think you're talking to here?"
"Kid, I really don't think … " Logan began.
"Don't 'think,' Wolvie," Jubilee commanded. "POUR."
Thirty minutes later Scott Summers arrived downstairs to find chaos. Kitty was phasing through random objects and people, laughing maniacally. Rogue appeared to be running some sort of obstacle course over the luggage and furniture. And Jubilee … well, Jubilee was bouncing around, shooting off tiny intermittent plasma bursts and talking. Very fast, and very loud. To no one in particular.
"… and I'm, like, so sick of 'The O.C.,' and 'One Tree Hill' is, like, so lame and such a 'Dawson' ripoff, and I'm, you know, totally with Bright and Hannah on 'Everwood' because, you know, he's cute and she's sweet and don't even get me started about 'Veronica Mars' and . . . "
Summers gaped. Logan had the distinct impression that behind his glasses, he was bug-eyed. "What the HELL is wrong with them?" He rounded on Logan. "What the hell did you do to the kids?"
"Hey, it's nothing you can't handle, Fearless Leader," Logan said, lacing the last two words with contempt. "They're just pumped for the trip."
"Pumped for the trip?" Summers echoed, his voice jumping an octave. "They're talking like Quicksilver moves! They're climbing the walls! And I've got to be in a plane with them for hours and then keep an eye on all of them at the mall! For TWO DAYS!"
"Hey, kid, you can handle it," Logan said, baring his teeth in a moderately frightening Wolverine approximation of a grin. "Ain't you always telling me you can handle anything? That that's why Chuck put you in charge? Not because you're really a prettyboy suck-up teacher's pet?" He shrugged. "I just helped the kids get into the holiday spirit. Gave 'em a little something."
Summers looked around incredulously. "What – cocaine?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Logan demanded righteously. "I gave them coffee, and candy, and I gave them this." He whipped another soda bottle out from behind his back with a flourish. "Got it special just for this trip. I'm a giving kind of guy."
"Jolt cola," Summers read dully from the label. " 'All the sugar and twice the caffeine.' " He pressed the heel of one hand to his forehead and shuddered.
"Some of 'em got Manhattan Special," Logan offered helpfully. "And I think all of 'em got some of those teddy treats – "
"Gummi bears," Summers corrected automatically, then winced. "They'll be hyper for hours!"
"More like days, college boy," Logan said. "I gave 'em extras to take with 'em."
"They'll never sleep!" Summers cried.
"Hey, it ain't like you're gonna have any trouble tracking 'em," Logan said. He jerked a thumb at Jubilee. "Doesn't look like Sparky here is ever gonna shut up."
"… and THEN," Jubilee jabbered, "he goes, 'Yeah, right,' and I'm all, 'Oh, please,' and HE'S all . . . "
Summers gave a small, anguished whimper. "Oh, Jesus," he said, rubbing his temples. "Oh, Jesus, oh, Jesus, oh, Jesus."
"No, kid," Logan said, baring his teeth again, "it's 'Wolverine.'"
Note: The always amazing Rachelmartin64 is responsible for the Manhattan Special detail. She says it's an espresso coffee soda bottled in Brooklyn and, as far as she knows, is not sold outside of New York City. It's hard to find even in NYC, so you know Logan really put his heart into the search. I mentioned that Rachel rules, right?