DONUTS FOR DINNER
Category: Marvel Comics – Spider-Man and X-Men crossover.
Genre: Angst and hurt/comfort.
Featuring Characters: Rachel Summers (Marvel Girl), May Parker (Spider-Girl). With mention of Scott Summers (Cyclops), Emma Frost (White Queen) and Jean Grey-Summers (Phoenix).
Universe: Earth-982; where (for the sake of the story) Rachel was born, raised, and has remained.
Summary: A likely story for an unlikely friendship.
Warnings: Mild coarse language, sexual references, fem slash, and the dreaded Scott/Emma pairing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The MC2 X-Men and Spider-Man universes are the property of Marvel.
Notes: Inspired by my newest Marvel coupling – the characters are mostly canon this time, even if the ship is not. Thanks go to Ultimate Cyclops, for being there to bounce ideas off, for bouncing ideas of her own, and for just generally being there. All credit for introducing to me May Parker (Spider-Girl) goes to her. Again, you are amazing.
It was the first time Rachel had been sent to bed without dinner, without even an afternoon snack to keep her hunger under control. "This is an invasion of my human rights!" she had declared, angry, as she had stomped up the stairs to her room, "And my mutant rights! I'm going to starve to death!"
Neither Scott nor Emma had cared. The latter didn't surprise her, considering what the White Bitch had said to her, in front of her father who, to his credit, had looked both astonished and appalled. If Rachel hadn't said what she had next, it might have been the busty blonde who found herself in the dog house without her kibble. Maybe. But when faced with such condemnation, how could she not have reacted? Or "overreacted", as Scott had said.
Now, she faced the consequences as well as the knowledge that her father favoured the woman he had used to cheat on his wife over his own daughter. He hadn't even had the decency to pretend.
"And now I starve," Rachel threw out her arms dramatically and let her body fall backwards onto the mattress of her still-unmade bed.
She lay still for a moment, just staring at the ceiling, before she was suddenly thrashing wildly, throwing her arms out and beating them down hard against the bed. The slender legs that had been hanging limp over the edge kicked out violently, her heels beating and bouncing against the side of the mattress. She screamed, not too loudly, but in undeniable frustration and rage. A photograph of her mother and father – laughing and happy as they swung her tiny, child body between them – was telekinetically flung against the door to her closest, the glass pane shattering on impact and raining down onto her carpet a split second before the wooden frame and the glossy paper inside fell to the floor.
Rachel's tantrum lasted for a good few minutes before she finally calmed down enough to regain some control, composure and maturity. She was still again, heart thumping and chest heaving with residue anger, before she gradually slid from the bed and padded over to her closet door. She knelt warily on the carpet, wincing slightly at the sudden pain in her knee by otherwise ignoring it as she reached for the photograph. She shook it free of any shards of glass, then rose to her feet, moving slowly back towards the bed.
Sitting, she folded the paper, cutting Scott out of the picture and leaving just herself and Jean smiling and radiant and full of love. Scott's flap helped her stand it on her nightstand. Rachel stared at it for an indistinguishable amount of time and very, very slowly, moving at only fractions every minute, she lay down and wept.
The rap, rap, rap on her window came a little more than half an hour later, and startled Rachel into lifting her head from her damp pillow. Swiping the back of her hand over her eyes, she strained her neck to look across the room. Squinting in the darkness of twilight, she could make out a red figure holding what could have been a pizza box, and gesturing vigorously for her to open the window.
Rachel frowned, her stomach growling painfully at the thought of greasy, stringy cheese, as she swung her legs to the floor and stood. She made an effort to square her shoulders and round up her usual air of confidence. Cold but nimble fingers twisted the lock, and then pushed up the window just a crack.
"It's May," the delightfully familiar voice told her, some confusion and concern in her tone that made Rachel want to cry all over again.
"I know," she said instead, metal shrieking against metal as she opened the window as far as it could go, then stepped aside to let her girlfriend in. "I was just wondering what you were doing here."
Having carefully manoeuvred herself and her sweet-smelling luggage into her bedroom, Spider-Girl used her free hand to peel off her mask, tossing it towards Rachel's desk. "I heard..." she scowled, lifting her hand towards her temple. She knew it wasn't the right word, but she was unsure of what to use instead. "I brought you dinner." She held her hands up, as if pleading innocence, to stop the next question before it could come. "I overheard your Dad and Emma talking."
"Fly on the wall. Try, spider on the wall. You should know better than to eavesdrop, kiddo," Marvel Girl chastised her, but her expression and defensive mannerisms had softened significantly. She gestured for the box of donuts, which the brunette brought to her readily.
"I didn't hear what happened, except that you did something to set Emma off. Do you want to talk about it?"
Rachel shook her head, trying to look like she was completely absorbed in tearing the first Krispy Kreme into pieces she could easily fit into her mouth. Mayday wasn't fooled, but she didn't push. As well as she knew that the brand name donuts were her lover's favourite, she knew that pressing her for details would be as effective as trying to jerk her fingers out of a Chinese finger cuff – when she wasn't equip with superhuman strength or scissors.
As the sweet, sticky icing hit her tongue and was carried into the back of her mouth, the redhead let out a moan of pleasure, satisfaction, and appreciation for the sugar hit that would be her dinner for the night. After that first bite, she wharfed down the rest of the donut, licking her fingers clean when she was done and patting her stomach affectionately. She sighed contentedly, and then looked to her girlfriend, offering her a warm, grateful smile to counter the look of worry and slight amusement etched onto her pretty features.
"I called her a husband-stealing whore," Rachel finally confessed, somewhat sheepishly. She wasn't ashamed or guilty about what she had said, instead she was proud. She considered her harsh words completely justifiable.
"Hoo-boy," grinned May, "What did your evil step-mother do to deserve that one, Cinderella?"
This time, Marvel Girl pulled a face, obviously unimpressed by the analogy. If Emma ever became her step-mother... 'I'm walking out that door and never coming back.' She told herself firmly, meaning every word. 'No one can replace Mom.' Unfortunately, her father had seemed to be trying before she had even died.
Rachel took another bite of her second donut, chewing slowly and thoughtfully and swallowing before she parted her lips to answer. "She said I was a child who should never have been born." Making sure that her fingers were clean, she reached for the photograph and she set down earlier, bringing it into her lap and rubbing her thumb over her mother's cheek.
May, younger than her by four years, but already far more mature than any sixteen year old had a right to be, wrapped her arm around the redhead's shoulders and pressed her pursed lips to her temple. She stroked a strand of deep red hair away from her face and behind her ear. "I'm glad you were born," she murmured.
Normally, she might have smiled at that, but she was tired and frustrated and still seething with anger that was slowly boiling away into sadness. She leaned into the brunette's one-armed embrace, and tucked her head into the spot where her shoulder met her neck, pressing her face against the warmth she found there and revelling in it. When the tears came this time, they rolled down her cheeks undisturbed and without the all the bravado of wheezing and coughing that had been so overwhelming earlier.
They stayed like that for a long time, silent save for the occasional quiet murmuring of "Shhh, it's okay", "That bitch" and "I love you". Then finally, Rachel lifted her head and flipped the lid closed on the box of donuts, wordlessly pushing it onto her night stand with the photograph sitting neatly on top. Her hands fell into her lap and she stared at them as she spoke.
"I still can't believe he cheated on her. How could he do that?" she asked, though she hardly expected May to have the answer.
The brunette replied anyway, however, covering Rachel's hands with her own and giving them a comforting squeeze. "I don't know, tiger."
"She loved him so much. She would have done anything," she murmured, "Emma is a whore but... he didn't have to..." Rachel trailed off, screwing her eyes closed. After a few moments of silence, her fist suddenly hit out at the mattress beside her thigh. She felt May cringe beside her, and then she was twisting towards her and wrapping her arms around her torso, pulling her back against her chest and pressing her face against the back of her shoulder. "I hate him," she sighed. "I bet he's humping her fucking leg right now."
"I can't hear anything," May told her kindly, one hand stroking up and down her arm.
Rachel grimaced, then tapped a finger to her temple where her girlfriend could see. Spider-Girl gave a short, quiet laugh that was quickly silenced by Marvel Girl's harsh glare over her shoulder.
"Can't you tell?" she suggested, gently nudging her finger with her nose.
"And if I find that I'm right?" Rachel raised her eyebrows sceptically, her expression clearly not amused at the prospect.
May was silent and thoughtful, then, without a word, she was gracefully pushing the redhead down onto her back, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists above her head. "I know what we can do to get your mind of it," she smirked. Rachel's mouth fell open, provoking a loud laugh from her lover, who was quickly climbing off her and the bed. "C'mon," she stuck her hand out for her, "Let's go catch some crazies."