Perfectly Normal
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › FemSlash - Female/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
63
Views:
7,385
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › FemSlash - Female/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
63
Views:
7,385
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
11
PERFECTLY NORMAL CHAPTER ELEVEN
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *GLOMP* InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: *big shiny gold star* Morgan: You still there? Readers/reviewers: Thanks for reading/reviewing as you can! It makes the ducks happy.
“Long day?”
Mystique looked up from her fourth cup of coffee, eyes narrowed to slits. “One might say that…”
“One might,” Mark agreed, pouring hot water from the spigot into the tea kettle. “Where is everyone?”
She knew which ‘everyone’ he meant. The ‘everyone’ that she was currently wishing to perdition even as she sipped, imagining them all in flames and writhing in pain before her. Absurdly, while being eaten by sharks. “They’re filming the gym. Logan is glowering from afar. He seems to do that often.” She took a scalding gulp of the liquid in her mug and winced. “I’m starting to think that’s in his job description.”
Mark laughed shortly, spooning loose tea into one of the muslin bags kept for such an occasion. “I’ve noticed that. How are you adjusting though?” he asked after the briefest hesitation. “They seem…”
“And rightly so,” she cut him off. “I don’t belong here and if it wasn’t for Magneto I wouldn’t be here.” It was mostly true, she thought. Other reasons for her being there had no bearing on her current situation within the Brotherhood. “I admit to some confusion on this myself but it is not my place to question my…” she paused, wondering just what Magneto was to her. Boss? Superior? Slave-driver? “…my orders,” she finished, looking down at the remains of her caffeine. “This place is giving me migraines.”
“I’ve worked in worse,” he admitted with a shrug. “This place isn’t so bad by my standards. A bit unusual given the…” He paused, watching Mystique’s eyes flicker to the kitchen door. “Someone?” he mouthed. She nodded slightly. “Film?” he asked soundlessly. She shook her head and surreptitiously reached up to tug on her ear. Ah, he thought, just sound equipment. “A bit unusual given the fact we’re surrounded by exceptional students,” he continued, walking towards the sink as casually as he could manage. He could just see, out of the corner of his eye, one of the documentary crew crouching in the doorway, a jumble of equipment clutched to his chest as he watched some small panel on the recorder. Mark flipped the switch on the disposal for the sink and smiled faintly as the college student yelped and jerked his headphones off, the equipment tumbling to the ground. “Oh, sorry,” Mark called cheerily, turning off the device. “I didn’t see you there. Do you need us to repeat anything?” He smiled benignly, glad he had remembered to clean his glasses that morning and annoyed that he had been so distracted by other things that he had missed the approach of the youth.
“No, I got it,” the student snapped, gathering his things and shooting them both a hard glare before tramping back through the rec room to whatever spot was next on his list of observation points.
“Professor Xavier made it through surgery fine,” Mark said, apropos of nothing. Mystique’s considering gaze was verging on unnerving but not enough to make him stutter or look away. “Storm and Sean are going to stay there till the visiting hours are over… And you really don’t care, do you?” he asked, noting the look of boredom flittering across her features.
“He isn’t my favorite person in the world but I’d be dead inside not to be glad that your friend did not die.” She stood, taking her mug to the sink before she continued, “I am just…at sea,” she finished. “I feel as if things are out of control but only so subtly as to barely notice. Like when you’re driving on a wet road and you feel that the tires are not quite biting the surface…”
“The moment before your hydroplane [1],” Mark murmured, nodding. “Yes, I get that too…” He looked up suddenly, eyes bright with purpose. “Let me take you out tonight.”
“Take me out? You’re either a bold hitman or a kind librarian…”
“A little of both,” he replied cryptically. “You need a break, I need a break—those harridans had their hands all over my books!—and we can both do well to spend some time away from teenagers.” He paused, an additional reason for wanting to speak to her alone dancing to the fore of his brain. A large, loud, powerful reason that seemed to be, in his remembrance, the size of a small elephant clad in an odd helmet.
She raised a brow and leaned one hip against the counter, giving him a considering look. “Okay,” she finally said, her lips curling slightly, almost a smile. “We can go to dinner and drinks.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mark smiled in return. A crash sounded from somewhere within the mansion and they both twitched visibly. “That sounds like the library.”
“Go, rescue Chaucer and Marlowe. I’ll go see what Magneto is doing.” She waved him off with the resigned air of a much-harried mother, following him to the rec room but heading for the study instead of the hallway as he did. She wondered, briefly, at her easy acceptance of his invitation. For all of the years she had worked with Magneto, she could count on one hand with fingers left over the number of innocent and not so innocent invitations she had received from someone other than Sabretooth. Grunting is not the way to a woman’s heart, she thought with a tinge of bitterness. She knew Magneto would no doubt have something to say about her dinner with Mark but at that very moment, she did not care. She opened the door to the study and stepped in, her mind so involved with her own considerations that she did not truly notice the older man at first. A flicker of movement caught her attention, however, and she looked up sharply.
Magneto stood at the window, fingers gripping the thick wooden trim as his back arched and face contorted. A faint glow, so light as to be almost unnoticeable, limned his body as she stared, tracing his limbs and face before disappearing into his skin. He gasped, shuddered, then turned towards her, his eyes bright and lips curved into a definite smile. “Ah, Mystique. So good of you to join us…”
___________________________________________________________
[1] http://www.familycar.com/Articles/WaterHazards.htm ___________________________________________________________
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *GLOMP* InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: *big shiny gold star* Morgan: You still there? Readers/reviewers: Thanks for reading/reviewing as you can! It makes the ducks happy.
“Long day?”
Mystique looked up from her fourth cup of coffee, eyes narrowed to slits. “One might say that…”
“One might,” Mark agreed, pouring hot water from the spigot into the tea kettle. “Where is everyone?”
She knew which ‘everyone’ he meant. The ‘everyone’ that she was currently wishing to perdition even as she sipped, imagining them all in flames and writhing in pain before her. Absurdly, while being eaten by sharks. “They’re filming the gym. Logan is glowering from afar. He seems to do that often.” She took a scalding gulp of the liquid in her mug and winced. “I’m starting to think that’s in his job description.”
Mark laughed shortly, spooning loose tea into one of the muslin bags kept for such an occasion. “I’ve noticed that. How are you adjusting though?” he asked after the briefest hesitation. “They seem…”
“And rightly so,” she cut him off. “I don’t belong here and if it wasn’t for Magneto I wouldn’t be here.” It was mostly true, she thought. Other reasons for her being there had no bearing on her current situation within the Brotherhood. “I admit to some confusion on this myself but it is not my place to question my…” she paused, wondering just what Magneto was to her. Boss? Superior? Slave-driver? “…my orders,” she finished, looking down at the remains of her caffeine. “This place is giving me migraines.”
“I’ve worked in worse,” he admitted with a shrug. “This place isn’t so bad by my standards. A bit unusual given the…” He paused, watching Mystique’s eyes flicker to the kitchen door. “Someone?” he mouthed. She nodded slightly. “Film?” he asked soundlessly. She shook her head and surreptitiously reached up to tug on her ear. Ah, he thought, just sound equipment. “A bit unusual given the fact we’re surrounded by exceptional students,” he continued, walking towards the sink as casually as he could manage. He could just see, out of the corner of his eye, one of the documentary crew crouching in the doorway, a jumble of equipment clutched to his chest as he watched some small panel on the recorder. Mark flipped the switch on the disposal for the sink and smiled faintly as the college student yelped and jerked his headphones off, the equipment tumbling to the ground. “Oh, sorry,” Mark called cheerily, turning off the device. “I didn’t see you there. Do you need us to repeat anything?” He smiled benignly, glad he had remembered to clean his glasses that morning and annoyed that he had been so distracted by other things that he had missed the approach of the youth.
“No, I got it,” the student snapped, gathering his things and shooting them both a hard glare before tramping back through the rec room to whatever spot was next on his list of observation points.
“Professor Xavier made it through surgery fine,” Mark said, apropos of nothing. Mystique’s considering gaze was verging on unnerving but not enough to make him stutter or look away. “Storm and Sean are going to stay there till the visiting hours are over… And you really don’t care, do you?” he asked, noting the look of boredom flittering across her features.
“He isn’t my favorite person in the world but I’d be dead inside not to be glad that your friend did not die.” She stood, taking her mug to the sink before she continued, “I am just…at sea,” she finished. “I feel as if things are out of control but only so subtly as to barely notice. Like when you’re driving on a wet road and you feel that the tires are not quite biting the surface…”
“The moment before your hydroplane [1],” Mark murmured, nodding. “Yes, I get that too…” He looked up suddenly, eyes bright with purpose. “Let me take you out tonight.”
“Take me out? You’re either a bold hitman or a kind librarian…”
“A little of both,” he replied cryptically. “You need a break, I need a break—those harridans had their hands all over my books!—and we can both do well to spend some time away from teenagers.” He paused, an additional reason for wanting to speak to her alone dancing to the fore of his brain. A large, loud, powerful reason that seemed to be, in his remembrance, the size of a small elephant clad in an odd helmet.
She raised a brow and leaned one hip against the counter, giving him a considering look. “Okay,” she finally said, her lips curling slightly, almost a smile. “We can go to dinner and drinks.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mark smiled in return. A crash sounded from somewhere within the mansion and they both twitched visibly. “That sounds like the library.”
“Go, rescue Chaucer and Marlowe. I’ll go see what Magneto is doing.” She waved him off with the resigned air of a much-harried mother, following him to the rec room but heading for the study instead of the hallway as he did. She wondered, briefly, at her easy acceptance of his invitation. For all of the years she had worked with Magneto, she could count on one hand with fingers left over the number of innocent and not so innocent invitations she had received from someone other than Sabretooth. Grunting is not the way to a woman’s heart, she thought with a tinge of bitterness. She knew Magneto would no doubt have something to say about her dinner with Mark but at that very moment, she did not care. She opened the door to the study and stepped in, her mind so involved with her own considerations that she did not truly notice the older man at first. A flicker of movement caught her attention, however, and she looked up sharply.
Magneto stood at the window, fingers gripping the thick wooden trim as his back arched and face contorted. A faint glow, so light as to be almost unnoticeable, limned his body as she stared, tracing his limbs and face before disappearing into his skin. He gasped, shuddered, then turned towards her, his eyes bright and lips curved into a definite smile. “Ah, Mystique. So good of you to join us…”
___________________________________________________________
[1] http://www.familycar.com/Articles/WaterHazards.htm ___________________________________________________________