Perfectly Normal
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › FemSlash - Female/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
63
Views:
7,394
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › FemSlash - Female/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
63
Views:
7,394
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.
15
PERFECTLY NORMAL CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… I think things are going to start happening fast soon… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. ProPhile: Seriously, I just got stuck transchanneling. Morgan: *sneaky stalk* Readers/Reviewers: Thanks for reading and reviewing as you can! And Malk is a dire penguin.
Artie shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking up at Storm from deeply shadowed eyes. He took one step, then another, almost shuffling up the aisle towards his assigned seat. The classroom was silent as a tomb as Artie took his seat, not looking up at the camera crew or anyone else for that matter. The whispers between the camera man and the interviewer were none to subtle, and Rogue felt moved to defend the misshapen teenager. “He can’t help it,” she said flatly, her drawl cutting the thick tension in the room. “You look like you ain’t ever seen no one who’s not perfect before,” she added, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. She folded her hands, the spiked silver ring on her left hand catching the light just right, sending a glare across the lens of the camera, and leaned forward. “Not like you’re so pretty either,” she said, glaring pointedly at the interviewer who was staring, open mouthed, at Artie. “HEY!” Rogue slammed her hands down on the desk, palms flat, and made about half of the people in the room jump. “Stop staring at him!”
Todd cleared his throat as Storm’s eyes narrowed, a thin veil of white slipping across the pale blue color before vanishing, leaving her gaze unclouded. “Rogue, baby, might want to dial it back a few,” he muttered, scrunching down in his seat and shifting so he could slide her a pointed look. “It’s okay…”
“No,” she bit out, “it’s not okay. They’re looking at him like he’s a freak! He’s just Artie!”
Artie, for his part, appeared nonplussed. He took his seat and dug his book out of his bag, opening it to the correct page and taking out some highlighters for the occasion. Storm stepped around her desk and fixed Rogue with a very plain expression, one that brooked no argument. “Marie, please step into the hallway. Now.” It was by sheer dint of will that Storm did not allow the thunder to rumble across the sky outside or lightening to crackle in her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out, aware that she was being filmed as Rogue stood, tugging her green over shirt down to cover the sheer black body stocking underneath. “Everyone else, please open your books to today’s assignment and start reading. I’ll be back in a moment.” She strode past the small camera crew, daring them with a look to follow her on pain of something painful. Rogue was already out in the hallway when Storm stepped through the door, shutting it firmly behind her, just short of a slam. “Rogue…”
“I’m Marie,” the teenager shot back, her accent more lilting than drawling now. “Marie because Rogue is too weird to explain.” She folded her arms and leaned against the newly painted wall, the smell of the off white paint still lingering, mingled with the scent of sawdust and linoleum glue, barely discernable but there, marking the wing as new. She shifted listlessly, starting to feel uncomfortable after only a few moment’s of Storm’s silence. “I didn’t like the way they were lookin’ at Artie,” she finally exploded, kicking her heel against the wall, pushing away and starting to pace. “I don’t like how they’re lookin’ at any of us!”
“Rogue,” Storm’s voice was low and calm, her body language demanding respect. “Artie has dealt with those looks most of his life. And he will continue to do so. I admire your boldness in defending those different than society deems ‘normal’ but you must also learn self control.” She reached out and laid a restraining hand on Rogue’s elbow to stop her from pacing. “Rogue,” she said in a slightly more urgent tone, “we need to just…go with this for now.”
“I don’t,” she began, but a sudden scuffling noise and startled cries broke from the classroom behind Storm, making them both stiffen. “Oh, this ain’t gonna be pretty…”
Artie, his eyes glowing brightly, stared or seemed to stare at the cameraman and interviewer. Both men were standing stock-still, eyes glassy and lips parted as if they had no control over the muscles in their face. “Artie!” Storm barked. “Let them go!”
Artie shifted his gaze to his teacher and sighed. His eyes faded to their normal color and the documentary crew slid backed into motion, the interviewer blinking rapidly as the cameraman let out a whimper of uncertainty. “What,” the interviewer snarled, “the fuck was that?”
“That,” Storm said plainly, “was nothing. What are you talking about?” She refused to look at the camera, knowing she would look nervous, wondering how much was caught on film, how much could be explained away. “Now let’s start on page seventy two…”
Artie bent down over his book, not even glancing up as Rogue patted his shoulder in passing. He did not like these two men. HE didn’t like any of the men, really. They were liars and cheats. The small one, the one with red hair who fiddled with sound equipment, was okay. But these two, no. He felt their eyes on him and knew what they were thinking even when he was not mindlinked to them. He knew they did not want good things for any of them. He finally forced himself to look up and found the camera trained on him. His head felt more grotesque than usual to him, the lumps and swollen bits making him feel awkward, just when he thought he felt normal. He bent over his book again and made some random highlighter lines, chewing his lower lip as if in thought. Nothing was going to be the same after this, he thought miserably. And it was all his fault.
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… I think things are going to start happening fast soon… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. ProPhile: Seriously, I just got stuck transchanneling. Morgan: *sneaky stalk* Readers/Reviewers: Thanks for reading and reviewing as you can! And Malk is a dire penguin.
Artie shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking up at Storm from deeply shadowed eyes. He took one step, then another, almost shuffling up the aisle towards his assigned seat. The classroom was silent as a tomb as Artie took his seat, not looking up at the camera crew or anyone else for that matter. The whispers between the camera man and the interviewer were none to subtle, and Rogue felt moved to defend the misshapen teenager. “He can’t help it,” she said flatly, her drawl cutting the thick tension in the room. “You look like you ain’t ever seen no one who’s not perfect before,” she added, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. She folded her hands, the spiked silver ring on her left hand catching the light just right, sending a glare across the lens of the camera, and leaned forward. “Not like you’re so pretty either,” she said, glaring pointedly at the interviewer who was staring, open mouthed, at Artie. “HEY!” Rogue slammed her hands down on the desk, palms flat, and made about half of the people in the room jump. “Stop staring at him!”
Todd cleared his throat as Storm’s eyes narrowed, a thin veil of white slipping across the pale blue color before vanishing, leaving her gaze unclouded. “Rogue, baby, might want to dial it back a few,” he muttered, scrunching down in his seat and shifting so he could slide her a pointed look. “It’s okay…”
“No,” she bit out, “it’s not okay. They’re looking at him like he’s a freak! He’s just Artie!”
Artie, for his part, appeared nonplussed. He took his seat and dug his book out of his bag, opening it to the correct page and taking out some highlighters for the occasion. Storm stepped around her desk and fixed Rogue with a very plain expression, one that brooked no argument. “Marie, please step into the hallway. Now.” It was by sheer dint of will that Storm did not allow the thunder to rumble across the sky outside or lightening to crackle in her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out, aware that she was being filmed as Rogue stood, tugging her green over shirt down to cover the sheer black body stocking underneath. “Everyone else, please open your books to today’s assignment and start reading. I’ll be back in a moment.” She strode past the small camera crew, daring them with a look to follow her on pain of something painful. Rogue was already out in the hallway when Storm stepped through the door, shutting it firmly behind her, just short of a slam. “Rogue…”
“I’m Marie,” the teenager shot back, her accent more lilting than drawling now. “Marie because Rogue is too weird to explain.” She folded her arms and leaned against the newly painted wall, the smell of the off white paint still lingering, mingled with the scent of sawdust and linoleum glue, barely discernable but there, marking the wing as new. She shifted listlessly, starting to feel uncomfortable after only a few moment’s of Storm’s silence. “I didn’t like the way they were lookin’ at Artie,” she finally exploded, kicking her heel against the wall, pushing away and starting to pace. “I don’t like how they’re lookin’ at any of us!”
“Rogue,” Storm’s voice was low and calm, her body language demanding respect. “Artie has dealt with those looks most of his life. And he will continue to do so. I admire your boldness in defending those different than society deems ‘normal’ but you must also learn self control.” She reached out and laid a restraining hand on Rogue’s elbow to stop her from pacing. “Rogue,” she said in a slightly more urgent tone, “we need to just…go with this for now.”
“I don’t,” she began, but a sudden scuffling noise and startled cries broke from the classroom behind Storm, making them both stiffen. “Oh, this ain’t gonna be pretty…”
Artie, his eyes glowing brightly, stared or seemed to stare at the cameraman and interviewer. Both men were standing stock-still, eyes glassy and lips parted as if they had no control over the muscles in their face. “Artie!” Storm barked. “Let them go!”
Artie shifted his gaze to his teacher and sighed. His eyes faded to their normal color and the documentary crew slid backed into motion, the interviewer blinking rapidly as the cameraman let out a whimper of uncertainty. “What,” the interviewer snarled, “the fuck was that?”
“That,” Storm said plainly, “was nothing. What are you talking about?” She refused to look at the camera, knowing she would look nervous, wondering how much was caught on film, how much could be explained away. “Now let’s start on page seventy two…”
Artie bent down over his book, not even glancing up as Rogue patted his shoulder in passing. He did not like these two men. HE didn’t like any of the men, really. They were liars and cheats. The small one, the one with red hair who fiddled with sound equipment, was okay. But these two, no. He felt their eyes on him and knew what they were thinking even when he was not mindlinked to them. He knew they did not want good things for any of them. He finally forced himself to look up and found the camera trained on him. His head felt more grotesque than usual to him, the lumps and swollen bits making him feel awkward, just when he thought he felt normal. He bent over his book again and made some random highlighter lines, chewing his lower lip as if in thought. Nothing was going to be the same after this, he thought miserably. And it was all his fault.