**A/N: Back-to-Back stories thanks to "A Writer's Book of Days." Woah. The prompt this time was: "Write about a sideways glance." Figures that would make me think of Willow around Devon...**

Following one-shot is my head-canon, so it both is and isn't canon in the X-Future story.
Rated K+ for mild cursing and minor suggestive scenes.


Labored breaths fell in rhythm with pounding footfalls. The humidity of the summer day settled on the thick lawn that was a few days past needing a mow. Broken blades of grass stuck to two sets of sneakers. Their path was already visible with the wet greenery staying crushed under their tread.

"There!" Willow panted as her fingers brushed Devon's shoulder. "Finally caught your ass." She gargled some sticky saliva and spat it to her side. She braced herself with her hands on her knees as she took a long breath. Moving her hands to her waist, she exhaled and arched backwards before flopping onto the grass. The budding dew cooled her bare legs.

Devon allowed one foot to slide out on the grass and landed beside Willow. He thumbed his nose and coughed the burn out of his lungs.

"Worn out already?" he laughed. "I thought you do street running or fast running or Perk-ore or whatever."

Willow leaned back on her elbows, tossed her short silver hair out of her face, and focused on Devon out of the corners of her aquamarine eyes. She clicked her tongue against her teeth before huffing a sarcastic laugh.

"First: you're an ass. Second: how the hell did you grow up in Brooklyn and not know what Freerunning is? Also, it's pronounced Parkour."

"Eh, whatever. You knew what I meant."

Willow let her arms give out beneath her and stretched across the grass. She closed her eyes and flicked Devon in the wrist as her fingers brushed his skin.

"Hey!" Devon pulled away before smirking and skirting around to her head. Kneeling at her shoulders, he pinned her arms. "How am I the ass when you're the athlete who can't handle a quick game of tag?"

The fifteen-year-old opened her eyes again, only to squint them as if she were trying to stare at the sun. It kept her a couple of seconds to adjust to Devon's exotic brown eyes only being a couple inches away. The flecks of color embedded in the cocoa of his irises flickered a rainbow of reds, golds, greens, and oranges as if Devon's eyes were kaleidoscopes.

Abruptly, Willow killed the silence by blowing on Devon's nose. Instinctively, the seventeen-year-old pulled a hand away to rub the itch she caused. With Devon distracted for a couple of seconds, Willow easily slid her other arm free, twisted into a sitting position, and flicked him in the forehead all as one fluid motion.

"You're an ass because your 'quick game' lasted over an hour with barely any breaks. Plus, your mild healing power increases your endurance. No lung or muscle burn means running is easier. Simple science confirms your assness. Boom." She motioned her hand like she was dropping something, and the image of a three-inch atomic bomb appeared, complete with a mushroom cloud explosion when the bomb disappeared into the grass.

"Bah, you're just a sore loser." Devon tilted to his side and rolled onto his back. "So, whaja wanna do now?"

"Sun's down. We should probably start heading back." Willow stood and brushed the moisture off herself.

"Sun's down," Willow's voice parroted, "We should probably start heading back."

Willow turned to see herself lying in the grass, one leg hooked over a bent knee, kicking slightly. "I hate when you do that." Willow tucked her hair back to make sure Devon saw her full glare.

The Willow still in the grass laughed in Devon's baritone. Her long, slender legs shimmered as they quickly covered in heavy denim jeans. Her petite chest broadened and her pale skin darkened to an olive-tone. Finally, her heart-shaped face framed by an asymmetrical bob shifted into Devon's chiseled jaw with spiky brown locks; his nondescript features returned, again suggesting that he was somehow all races at once.

"Come on," Devon said once he was back to his normal form, "you secretly love having a twin."

Three Willows formed out of the air behind the original. In unison, all four replied, "I could be however many I want. All you do is simple mockery."

One of the false three walked over to Devon and knelt beside him. She rubbed his chest and stroked his jaw with a silky smile across her face. The original Willow stepped to the side of the other two in order to give Devon an unobscured view.

"I can do more than mimicry though," the real Willow cooed.

The two illusions that stayed behind turned to each other and moved in for an embrace and kiss. Before their lips met, they transformed into Devon sloppily making out with himself.

The seductive Willow illusion still stroking Devon's chest burst into laughter. The real Willow joined suit. With a flick of her wrist, the illusionary Devons were only in matching white boxers with hearts on them. One Devon grabbed the other's ass.

"There we go," Willow snorted, "much better. Don't you think? Oh, and a goosing too. You frisky devil."

Devon smirked. "I think I'm damn handsome actually, and would gladly make out with myself given the chance. I also think you secretly want to see me in those." He gestured towards the boxers and winked at the real Willow. He then tapped the illusion Willow on her nose to disperse her; breaking Willow's spell.

Willow huffed as she waved her hand as if erasing the illusion of the making-out Devons. They too vanished, leaving only the original Willow and Devon alone in the field.

"Well, I think you have too high of an opinion of yourself." Willow crossed her arms in front of her and pouted; her fun ruined. "Like I'd want anything to do with you and your boxers."

Devon stood up and chuckled. "Say what you want. Your illusion showed me all I needed to know."

"Shut up! I was trying to mess with you."

"Would have worked if you got some details right." Devon dramatically shrugged with his arms out to his sides. "For starters, you clearly don't know how make-out sessions work."

"Y-yes I do!" She blushed. "I was purposely making it bad to imply that you're a bad kisser."

Devon shoved his hands deep in his pockets before walking over to Willow and leaning in close. "Want me to show you how well I kiss?" He wagged his eyebrows at her.

Willow's face flushed. "No! Gross! I'd probably have to teach you anyway." She stepped back and hugged herself. Her face scrunched up like she smelled a used diaper.

"You also got the boxers wrong. I go commando. Makes the morphing easier with less clothing. In fact, who's to say if I'm wearing any actual clothing right now?"

"Ewww!" Willow shoved him further away from her and started running back to the dorms.

"But I would totally sport only those white boxers with the hearts if that's what you're into," Devon teased, chasing after her. "And when should I expect those make-out lessons?"

"Hate you, Devon!" She playfully called back.

"You love me," he laughed.

**A/N: This is just a random thought of what those unseen moments between Devon and Willow would have been like before he left the school; causing Willow to think he abandoned and betrayed everyone. Whoops.

Also, sorry for the abrupt ending. I had about a dozen closing lines that I tried out, but they all felt tacked on and just as unsatisfactory of a close. So, I figured, if I'm not going to have a distinct, hard close to my story, I should at least stop at a line I'm happy with.**