Disclaimer: I don't own The Hills Have Eyes.
Summary: Chameleon wasn't prepared for this - his mate screaming, wishing for her death, throwing things, craving chocolate, and telling him with pleading eyes to go to Jeb's gas station. To get her…feminine products. ChameleonMissy, oneshot
Um, yeah. This is pure crack. I'm not even going to try and disguise it as anything other than that. I really have no idea where this came from, but I know most of us can relate to the stuff in this fic. I know it's been done before, but I thought it would be interesting to put our beloved Chamissy in this situation. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!
Once a Month
The moaning was the first thing he was privy to.
Otherwise, Chameleon wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong. Certainly, it wasn't unusual for his mate to groan and turn in her sleep, but this was rather unsettling. Her teeth were gritted and she was grasping at the pillows in her slumber, rolling over and tossing a leg out from under the covers.
He thought maybe she was having a bad dream, so he left the confines of their bedroom and went to go get her some water and a tin of the dried fruit she loved so much.
Chameleon was five steps out the door - he counted - when he heard it.
"Damn it all to hell!"
Her language was a clear indicator that Clyde was still with her parents while she was on her visitation time with Chameleon. She would never have used such language with her son around. Even then, her cursing was rare, only used for specific occasions - like when she was angry with Chameleon himself.
Gulping, he decided to abandon his search for the dried fruit and head back to the quarters they shared together. He wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but he was going to find out. Hopefully, he thought dryly, not at the expense of myself.
He opened the shabby little door that covered the entrance to his room and peeked in. Missy was sitting up, her head in her hands, slender fingers tangled around the dark strands of her hair. The moaning from before had intensified to an outright groan, load and unpleasant to listen to. He hated it when his mate was in pain, so he darted forward and kneeled at the bedside.
"What is wrong?"
It took her a while, but she responded.
With a pillow. Thrown at his face.
He gasped in surprise, backing up from her. She was leaning back now, her hands still over her face, but her head was rested on the other pillow, the one she hadn't assaulted him with.
Chameleon felt the well-washed fabric of the pillowcase in his hands. He had the urge to throw it back. Wasn't there something called a pillow fight amongst human culture? He remembered Clyde wanting to have one of those. Strange little boy…
He thought better of it. If the sounds emitting from his mate were any indication, she most definitely did not want that. Chameleon placed the pillow on the floor, far out of her reach, and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead.
"Missy…" he trailed off, his tongue lingering on the S's of her name.
She reached up and grasped his fingers and then gently pushed them away before turning over.
"I can help if you would just tell me what is wrong."
Missy mumbled something unintelligible.
"What did you say?"
"You…cannot even imagine…"
Chameleon cocked his head to the side. Imagine what? He was brave enough to move from his kneeling position to sit on their bed. He gazed at her with barely concealed curiosity.
Suddenly, Missy curled in on herself, her hands pressing against her stomach, groaning.
"Are you pregnant?"
Missy's eyes shot open and she sighed in an exasperated kind of way. "Chameleon, this is the opposite of pregnant."
"You are not pregnant," he stated.
She glared at him. "Get there faster, hon."
There was a beat. "Are you sick?"
She sat up, with much effort, whimpering for a moment before setting a glare on him that could curl paint.
"Have you ever read any…medical books, in those that you've…taken?" she asked, a light nervousness to her tone. The topic of his past actions was hardly discussed, so he knew that it must have been bad for her to bring it up, what he did with his spare time and the spare items - usually books - taken from his victims.
"Do they mention any…monthly occurrences? For women?"
Chameleon pondered this for a moment, pressing his fingers to his chin. She stared at him for a moment, pain in her dark eyes. "Ovulation…"
Missy made a 'hurry up' motion with her hand.
"Your menstrual cycle has started, then?"
She threw herself back on the pillows and then shot him a look, one that reminded him of a kicked puppy - or what he would presume a kicked puppy would look like. He didn't like thinking that way, so he steered himself away from that train of thought. She gave him a slight nod.
"What do you want me to do?"
Missy rolled her head to face him, cracking her eyes open just a bit, and said, "I need something from the gas station."
"Yeah," she admitted, squeezing her eyes shut. She trailed off, leaving Chameleon in the dark.
"It would help if you would tell me what you would like me to do, Missy."
Missy kept her eyes shut, but continued on, as if the act of talking was physically painful. She stayed ramrod straight, not allowing for any movement except for her fingers to clench the sheets around her. "Please go to that gas station and get me tampons…and some kind of painkiller. And chocolate." A divinely happy look crossed over her features. "Ah, chocolate."
"It would melt before I returned."
Missy let out the most pitiful whimper he had ever heard from her. Not even when she had torn her leg open on a wooden beam that had been jutting out from the wall did she make a noise like this. "Just try, please…"
She hardly ever said please. Chameleon felt his chest constrict in an odd manner. He rose from his position on the bed and nodded at her. "Fine. I will do this."
"Hurry before I hurl myself off this cliff."
"Do not do that," he said. "That would not be for the best."
He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and then moved out of the room, her groaning the only other thing in his mind.
Letch greeted him once he was outside, a grin on his face and his arms folded as he leaned against the craggy surface of the wall. "Damn, you're whipped."
Without missing a beat, Chameleon replied, biting, "Tell Amber I said hello."
The trek to Jeb's store was much harder than originally realized by Chameleon. Usually, he'd have asked Hansel to head that way, accompanied by Letch. The test village mutants were less likely to be hostile to Hansel, but still - Hansel wasn't physical at all, and Letch was there in case anything happened. Ever since Hades died, the two clans had a sort of treaty. "You don't attack us, we ain't gonna attack you. Y'all ain't Hades, we're aware," were Jupiter's exact words.
Chameleon wasn't used to being out in the open like this. He was more accustomed to hiding amongst the rocks, having the sparse foliage and the occasional large rock to hide behind or hide next to. The sun beat down on him as if personally offended by his presence.
After about an hour or so of walking, he passed the test village. There is a certain eerie quality that the houses hold, one that he believes that any person - mutant or otherwise - would be able to pick up on. He kept his pace steady, moving past the houses, eager to get to Jeb's and return before Missy did like she promised and threw herself from the cliff that made up his home. She wasn't suicidal, but particularly deadest in her goals once they anchored in her mind, so this was a true possibility.
"The hell you doin'?"
Chameleon paused. He must have been so deep in his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps of the person before they were too close to him. He turned in the direction of the voice and acknowledged, "Lizard."
Lizard stood in front of him, twisting the his spiked belt in his gloved fingers. He was eyeing the taller mutant curiously, his head cocked to the side. "Should I let you explain before I kill you?" he asked, his voice not malicious. The threat in and of itself could be fake, but Chameleon could never be sure.
Chameleon let his shoulders sag, feeling the weight of his task on his shoulders. "My mate is…how would you put it…having the problems that come with being a female, at a particular time of the month - "
"Damn, you're a wordy bastard," he replied, not unkindly. "She's on her period."
Chameleon blinked, almost wanting to flinch away from the word. "Yes."
Lizard's face then took on an odd look, pity mixed with amusement stretched across his marred lip, and he wrinkled his nose. "You goin' to Jeb's?"
"Be sure to stock up on that shit," Lizard said, winding the belt around his arm. "You can never have too much. Trust me."
Chameleon looked at him for a moment, and then it clicked. Ah, right. The blonde woman staying with them lately - Lizard's mate. Of course. Suddenly, Chameleon could see understanding deep in Lizard's eyes.
"Thank you for the advice," Chameleon replied.
"May God be with you," Lizard called after him as he continued his trek to the gas station.
As he walked, he couldn't help but wonder what horrors Brenda Carter brought upon Jupiter's clan once a month…
"What kind you want?" came Jeb's voice, raspy and drawling, from behind the counter.
It was odd to Chameleon that he was so nonchalant about this. Lizard must stop by regularly. It was also odd to Chameleon that there were different kinds.
He pondered for a moment before saying, "All of them."
Jeb stared at him. "Are ya holdin' up a pack o' women down at them mines, boy?"
"Just one." He paused. "Two," he amended, remembering Amber.
"I'll give ya one of each, 'lright?" Jeb said. "I got customers to look out for as well."
"I also would like to pick up some painkillers and chocolate."
"Chocolate? In this heat? You nuts."
"No, my mate is."
The trek back to the mines involved much sweating, dropping the large bag he had holding the items he received, and getting followed by Pluto for half the way back. He said nothing, just was jolly enough to follow him and provide him company for some reason. There was a moment in which they got close to the mines when Pluto stopped and placed a large hand on Chameleon's shoulder, and gave him a smile.
"Hope mate feel better."
Chameleon blinked and said, "Thank you."
After watching Pluto lumber back to Jupiter's land, he got back to moving. He arrived in his bedroom to find Missy talking to Amber with Letch standing in the corner, arms crossed and a strange look on his face. Stabber greeted him outside his door and he nodded in return.
"Bout time," Letch said, pushing himself off the wall. "There's been cryin' and huggin' and wishin' for a television so they could watch some show about gray-colored anatomy."
Chameleon blinked and looked as Amber rose from the bed, staring at him gratefully before giving Missy a final hug and departing, patting him on his slim shoulder. Missy looked up from her position on the bed - she looked much like a squashed bug - and her face lit up.
"Chameleon," she said, smiling.
This was weird. She never crooned his name like that.
Missy eyed the bag. She jolted up from her position, and then regretted it, clenching her sides. "Thank you so much."
"There were different…types. I got all of them."
Her eyes shone. "And?"
"Something called Meedol and a bar of Hershey's chocolate that is more like soup at this moment in time."
Missy paused, all her muscles tensing. "Midol?" she asked, obviously pronouncing the painkiller the correct way. "And chocolate?"
There was a pause in which that he feared he had done something wrong. She was sure to relieve him of his manhood if that was the case. He tensed, and then…
She threw herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his body with all the strength that she had in her. He felt the bags he had brought her slip from his fingers and fall to the floor. "Thank you!"
Out of everything Chameleon had learned in such a short amount of time, he was sure that he would never, ever be able to understand women. Or their cycles.
That was probably a good thing.