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Season of Giving	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 5139 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or universe of X-Men: Evolution; Marvel does. I make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Chapter 3: Exchange
- Angst

Over the next few days, Rogue and I hang out quite a bit. Under different circumstances, I’d say it’s because we’re bored and there’s not much to do with ninety percent of the Mansion’s population still gone. For the most part, though, what we do together isn’t all that exciting: play board and card games, watch TV or movies, go for walks outside in the snow, read.
Reading together, especially to an outside observer, seems like it wouldn’t be anything special. We don’t even sit or recline in a way that could be considered “snuggling.” All I can say is, throw in a warm fire and the warmth of the presence of someone you really care about, and you’ve got the beginnings of a wonderful afternoon or evening. I think, for us, it’s the chance to just soak in the quiet, with the knowledge – the feeling – of nearness, of having the other person right there in the same room, just… being.
It’s kinda hard to describe. For us, though, it’s pretty much perfect.
What’s not hard to describe is how much fun we have fooling around. Because we can’t make out like most couples, we skip from holding hands to more… intimate… forms of touch. We have to be careful about getting caught, so we only touch through clothing. Usually it’s all above the waist, though, in case we both need to pull back quickly.
Like the sword of Damocles, the end of Christmas break – and with it, the return of all the other students and of what passes for “normal” around here – hangs over our head. Neither of us wants things as they are right now to change, since we’re not quite sure how our friends would handle any news that Rogue and I are a couple.
Confusion, most likely. I can imagine Kurt turning all “protective brother” on me. Kitty, Rogue’s roommate, will probably squeal and take her shopping for date night outfits. Jean… well, she’s my best and closest friend, so she’s bound to be happy for me. Right?
“Penny fer yer thoughts, sugah,” teases Rogue, waving her hand in front of my face and bringing my mind back to the present. “You’ve been starin’ at that same page fer half an hour now.”
I chuckle at myself. “Tonight’s the last night before everyone comes back,” I reply. “I guess I was… thinking about ‘us,’ and how everyone else might react.”
Rogue purses her lips, and her gaze grows distant. “Ah’d lahk t’ think most of ‘em would be thrilled, but…” Her mouth quirks, as if she wants to continue; instead, she just shrugs.
“It’ll be almost impossible for what we have to continue the same way,” I remark, hoping that’s where she was going with that. “Can you imagine trying to read together like this with Jamies falling all over the place, or Sam whooshing around overhead?”
Rogue smirks. “Or Rahne doin’ her ‘friendly puppy’ routine all in our business whahl we’re playin’ a game?”
We laugh together. That’s been one of the best parts of… whatever this is – Rogue’s been smiling and laughing more than I’ve ever seen before. She’s especially beautiful in those most-unguarded moments, like when we put the finishing touches on a snow-Wolverine by tying some kitchen knives to the ends of his tree-branch arms and carving a deep scowl into the face.
Rogue’s soft voice breaks the comfortable post-laugh silence. “Ah think Ah’d lahk t’ make t’naht… a special one.” Her tongue darts over her full lips. “Remember that, um, plan we cooked up the other day during the movie?”
My face instantly reddens. We’d been watching some comedy about dumb male models, snuggled up under a blanket together, my hand on her breast and hers on my thigh. Somehow, we ended up discussing the logistics of, well, intimacy between us: latex gloves, like New Year’s Eve, for foreplay; pantyhose with a hole cut in the crotch for Rogue; and a condom for me, for protection… in the usual sense as well as from Rogue’s skin.
My brain finally clicks back into gear. “You… I mean… tonight… that?”
I know, I know – I’m a real smooth-talker.
At least Rogue’s as embarrassed as I am – she can’t quite look me in the eyes at the moment. “We won’t really get another chance lahk this, Scott, not for a good long whahl anyway. Ah… Ah don’t wanna waste it.”
“The offer’s tempting,” I answer as earnestly as possible – not hard, since it truly is a tempting offer. “It’s just a little… sudden. I need some time to think about it.”
“Tahm ain’t exactly on our sahd here,” Rogue retorts sourly. “We’ve only got a few hours till curfew, and tomorrow’s when everyone starts comin’ back.”
“I know, Rogue, and… I’d like to do that with you, but –“
My female companion cuts me off by covering my mouth with her gloved hand. “Listen, Scott, Ah don’t wanna pressure you if’n y’ain’t ready, okay? Ah’m gonna shower and ‘dress for bed’” – here she makes air quotes with her free hand – “so you can chew on it a spell. If’n ya don’t show before, say, nahn-thirty… Ah’ll understand.” She kisses the back of her hand, about where my lips are, for several long moments before she stands to leave.
“Just in case,” I call after her, “how long do you need for a shower? I, um, wouldn’t want to show up early,” I add rather lamely.
“Fifteen minutes,” she tosses over her shoulder as she exits the room, “plus ten t’ drah off and get ‘dressed.’” She makes air quotes again, with both hands this time. Then she’s gone, leaving me sitting on the sofa with one overwhelming thought.
Rogue wants to have sex with me tonight.
The “plan” we devised was, I thought, more of a spit-balling session – not joking, exactly, but not serious enough to put into action so soon. Much could still go horribly, horribly wrong: I could end up a permanent resident inside Rogue’s head; the condom could break; we could get caught, and I’m not sure if the Professor or Wolverine would be the worse one to catch us; I might not live up to Rogue’s expectations as a lover.
Still… Rogue wants to have sex with me. Tonight, while there’s at least some guarantee of privacy – mental as well as physical, I realize.
The Professor hasn’t said a word to us about our recent closeness. I can only guess at his reasons, of course, but it’s good to know he trusts us. At least, I assume he does – with his skill at telepathy, he could easily have been monitoring us this entire time without our knowledge. Would he do that? I like to think not; but even still, if Rogue and I… couple… might the Professor sense it? If he does, would he be angry with us? Or, worse yet, disappointed?
I hate when he uses that word, especially when I’m the one disappointing.
Maybe the Prof hasn’t said anything because he wants us to grow closer. I mean, he’s got a house full of hormonal teenagers; he’d be an idiot to think some of us wouldn’t… well. If there’s one thing I know about the Professor, he’s not an idiot.
I should’ve talked to him about all this stuff sooner. He’s the closest thing I have to a father… though might that have made it more awkward? I didn’t think this would be staring me in the face so soon, either. Or maybe I thought I could handle it if it did; I’ve been trying to handle things on my own more often, lately. That’s becoming an adult, right?
On this subject, though, I feel like I could use some adult guidance. No time now. Rogue is probably out of the shower by now, wanting us to “become adults” together.
Calm down, Scott. You’re a leader. Leaders make decisions. This is a decision, just like any other.
To screw, or not to screw? That’s the question. It’s always Shakespeare for me and Rogue.
Okay, maybe it’s totally unlike any decision I’ve ever made before.
Rogue wants to have sex with me tonight. Do I want to have sex with her?
Of course I want to have sex with Rogue. She’s gorgeous. We’ve got chemistry, shared interests, similar backgrounds. Clearly, she’s willing, since she propositioned me. She wants me to be her first – which, I’ll admit, appeals to the more primal parts of my brain. I want to make her feel good, to give her a few minutes of happiness in her otherwise crap-tastic life, a meaningful connection amidst all the loneliness. I’m pretty sure I have genuine feelings for her, too.
I wonder if she’s having this same conversation with herself. Part of me hopes so, hopes we have this uncertainty in common as well. Part of me feels like a huge, unmanly dork for being anything less than eager to march upstairs and pin Rogue to the bed and plow her virgin… plantation.
I guess the reason that word came to mind was her Southern heritage?
Counter the testosterone-fueled power trip of being Rogue’s first, I cling instead to the emotional resonance of the act. I care for the girl, deeply, and sharing such an intimate experience with her appeals to me on a more… I guess you’d say “spiritual” level. She is, after all, the only one I’ve told about my belief in guardian angels. She’s shared a lot with me, as well.
Rogue wants to have sex with me tonight. She wants to share herself with me completely.
Decision made, I soon find myself staring at her door. My mouth is dry as a desert. I catch a faint hum, or maybe a buzz, just at the edge of hearing. I knock.
“Just… Just a sec!” Rogue calls from within. The soft sound ceases, replaced by a drawer opening and shutting hurriedly.
My face heats up when I realize what, exactly, I’d been hearing. It only stands to reason, of course, that Rogue would own such a device, especially given the isolation imposed by her powers. I guess I’m more shocked to confirm a fact which, if I’d thought about it at all, I hadn’t spent much time actively pondering.
The door opens, jarring me out of my reverie. Rogue stands on the other side in a familiar, shiny robe, which she holds closed at the level of her cleavage. A relieved smile spreads across her face. “Oh, thank Gawd, it’s just you,” she gushes.
“’Just’ me?” I tease.
Rogue gestures into her room. “C’mon in, sugah,” she invites me, seemingly ignoring my little jab. “Ah’m glad ya came. Ah’d started t’ worry ya wouldn’t.” I can hear the surprised delight in her voice as I walk in. The door closes behind me.
A brief scan of the room shows it’s more or less as I expected of a room shared by two polar opposites like Rogue and Kitty, if lacking only a literal line to split the room down the middle. One bed and wall and furniture are festooned in frills and bows and boy bands and stuffed animals – all in shades of pink and purple, I assume. The other side demonstrates a sparse, minimalist aesthetic which reminds me more than a little of my own room. Posters for A Nightmare Before Christmas and Coraline and a few other Tim Burton films provide the full extent of her side of the room’s personalization.
I stand, awkwardly, waiting for a further invitation to sit, feeling a bit like an intruder into Rogue’s most private sanctum. The room smells mostly of Kitty’s makeup and perfume, but I catch a faint undercurrent of Rogue’s now-familiar musky aroma, sure sign of her arousal. My imagination conjures a phantasmal Rogue lying spread-legged on her bed, thrusting away with her toy in one hand while the other pinches and tugs on her nipples. The stiffening in my pants, which began when I realized Rogue had been using a vibrator, is now complete.
Rogue moves past me, her gait somewhere between “saunter” and “sashay,” and sits on the edge of her bed. She pats the spot beside her. “Take off yer shoes ‘n set a spell,” she drawls, exaggerating her accent for effect.
As I near her, I note that Rogue’s sitting cross-legged, one foot bouncing up and down almost impatiently. I then realize that her legs are covered in a fine, nearly see-through dark fabric. I touch her knee, a brush really, and confirm the fabric too soft and not the right texture for pantyhose.
Rogue jumps slightly at the touch. When she does, the robe falls open to reveal these mystery garments are actually stockings. Terminating at mid-thigh or higher in a cuff of some kind of embroidery, they appear to be attached via anchoring clips to a sheer fabric belt around Rogue’s waist. Her groin lies uncovered except for the neatly-trimmed patch of hair on it.
“Lahk ‘em? Ah thought they’d be more appealin’ than boring pantyhose,” Rogue explains. “Less hassle, too,” she adds.
“Very sexy,” I reply. “I’m a little surprised you own something like these.”
“Gag gift from Kitty,” Rogue snorts. With a mischievous giggle, she adds, “Reckon Ah’ll tell ‘er Ah put ‘em t’ good use once she gets back. Wonder what she’ll make of that.”
I chuckle and stroke her leg with a light touch, eliciting a gasp of surprised delight from my companion. These stockings, I note, leave a lot more of Rogue’s skin bare – namely, her uppermost thighs, butt, and the entirety of her genitals. Lots more skin than planned, which brings a higher risk of mishap with her powers. “You’re sure about this?” I ask her.
“Are ya kiddin’?” she jokes; but as I look into Rogue’s eyes, I can clearly see she’s a bit nervous. When my hand moves to cup one of her breasts, her eyes drift shut. “Ah’m so hot t’ trot, Ah kahnda ‘pregamed’ before ya got here,” slips the whispered admission from her lips.
“I heard,” I tease.
A self-conscious giggle bursts forth, followed by a sharp intake of breath as I stroke the nipple through her robe. “At least ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout poppin’ mah cherry,” Rogue remarks, her accent thickening with pleasure. “Mister Happy took care o’ that already.” Her foot closest to me strokes my calf.
I try not to laugh at her name for her vibrator. I barely succeed. Aloud, I wonder, “Another gag gift from Kitty?”
“Nope, a thank-you gift from Jean after her power surge,” Rogue replies, so deadpan that I start to think she’s telling the truth.
What.
I must look as shocked as I feel, because Rogue gives me this mysterious smirk, eyes glittering with mischief. The look is playful, yet wicked, as if she could be enjoying pulling one over on me, or as if she merely wanted to see my reaction and won’t confirm or deny if I ask. The image of this beauty, lying on this bed, thrusting a piece of plastic into her pussy for pleasure, manifests again.
I clear my thoughts and focus on the real Rogue in front of me, who wants to have real sex, with me, tonight. Putting on a smile, I start to pull the robe off her shoulders, baring her more fully. Careful not to touch the increasingly-exposed skin, I slide the garment off, wishing – not for the last time – that I could kiss her body all over.
Rogue pants with desire, her bounteous breasts bouncing with each breath. Licking her luscious lips, she asks a pointed question: “How come Ah’m the only one naked?”
“Good question,” I reply with a smile. I take off my clothes too, scooting away from Rogue to avoid accidental contact. “I’ll need to leave my boxers on, though, since more of your groin is exposed,” I explain as I wriggle myself through the opening in the front of my underwear. This idea came to me as I undressed, so I hope it works despite my usual luck with improvisation.
Rogue doesn’t respond right away. I look up from my erection to see her bent over, rummaging through her nightstand drawer. I take the opportunity to admire her fantastic, underappreciated rear – almost as phenomenal as her bust. In the dim light of her lamp, I can just make out the glistening wetness coating her pussy, signaling her arousal. I feel myself twitch with excited anticipation.
“Enjoy the view?” my sexy Southern companion purrs as she turns back around to hand me a pair of latex gloves, while keeping a pair for herself. As soon as we finish snapping them on, we both immediately begin running our hands all over each other.
“Of course, Rogue,” I reply as I stroke her pointed nipples and she runs a hand over my chest. “You’re a beautiful woman.” I dip one hand down to her pussy; its warmth – its burning, needy heat – seeps through the latex barrier and into my fingers.
Rogue rewards my caresses with a lusty moan. “Oh Scott!” she breathes. “Ah don’t think Ah need much foreplay t’naht, sugah.”
I chuckle and caress her for a few more minutes, savoring the feel of her hands on my body, the gentle give of her breasts, the fiery hunger of her pussy. My nerves abate as my excitement builds. This gorgeous girl wants to have sex with me tonight, and I want her, too.
“I, uh, brought a condom in my wallet,” I whisper. The tinfoil packet had sat, practically forgotten, there after that embarrassing day in sex-ed class when they were handed out and used for demonstration purposes. Now, though, I’m kinda thankful for it.
Rogue’s facial expression transforms, becoming something between guilty and sheepish. “Remember that ‘emergency supplah run’ Ah made this mornin’? Ah… bought a condom and some lube.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “The cashier lady gave me a nasty look, too.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I now notice a box and a bottle on the nightstand, probably set down while I was putting on my gloves. Way to pay attention, Summers. I pick up the box and read, “Female condom?”
Rogue takes it from me and extracts the contents, a long, broad, flexible plastic tube with an opening at one end and plastic rings at both. It looks like the love-child of a wind-sock and a funnel. “Same basic principle, but the opening covers the labia too,” she explains as she feeds the condom into herself with her fingers. “They’re supposed t’ be a bit more dependable, according to the box anyway.”
That is what the box claims, I read. Using one of these, it looks like, requires artificial lube, which explains the bottle. All in all, I’m impressed with Rogue’s modifications to our original plan.
I set the box aside. Rogue picks up the bottle and squirts some of the gel into her hand. At first, the strange substance feels cold on my shaft as she strokes, but it warms up quickly enough. Soon Rogue’s hand glides pleasantly along my length, thanks to the lube.
“Scott?” she ventures, voice trembling, tentative. “Could Ah ask a favor?”
“Anything, Rogue,” I reply without hesitation.
“Just fer t’naht, would you… use mah real name? It’s nothin’ real interestin’…” She sounds almost apologetic. “It’d just mean a lot to me.”
I stroke her cheek to soothe her. “I’d be honored,” I respond. “What is it?”
“Marie,” she answers with a shy smile. “You’re… the only one who knows.”
Just like she’s the only one who knows about the guardian angel thing, I reflect. “Marie,” I repeat, to get used to the feel of it in my mouth, the sound of it in my ears. “Would you like to…?”
Rogue – no, Marie – nods eagerly. She applies a bit more lube to her entrance before lying on her back. Her tongue darts across her full lips as she beckons me with a crooked finger and spread legs.
I can’t help but grin as I move into position partially atop her. I run my hands over Rogue’s – no, Marie’s – breasts, sad that I can’t lean down enough to let them press against my chest. “Nervous?” I ask, my own heart pounding in my ears.
In response, Marie lets out a long breath and fans her face with both hands. “A little,” she admits, “but Ah’m more’n ready.” To prove it, she hooks her legs around mine.
“Me too,” I agree as I put my tip into place against the plastic, “on both counts. I've never done this either.” My ears burn a bit at the admission, but Marie’s smart enough to have figured that out on her own.
“Let’s change that, sugah,” she whispers, gripping the sheets to brace herself.
For Marie’s sake, I push gently and go slowly. Her eyes cross and squeeze shut as I enter; the condom makes a crinkling sound as I penetrate. Marie’s incredibly warm all around me, even through the barrier, and just tight enough that I worry it hurts her, especially when a long, soft whimper escapes her lips.
Then she lets out a sob, and I spot the tears trickling between her eyelids, despite her best efforts to hold them in. Concerned, I freeze. Did I hurt her? I didn’t want to hurt her; I wanted this to feel good for Rogue – I mean, Marie.
Dammit.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “Are you okay, Ro – Marie?”
She nods and replies, “Ah’m okay, Scott.” Marie wipes her tears with the back of her left hand. “It’s just… real intense, ya know? Ah thought…” She sniffles. “Ah thought Ah’d never get to do this, ever. Much less with you, sugah.” She opens her eyes, still glassy with unshed tears, and smiles up at me sheepishly. “This is… somethin’ of a dream come true.”
I can’t help but smile back, even as I wonder what she means, exactly, by dreaming of this. “I’m… honored,” I reply; it’s the best I can do right now, with this swirl of excitement and nerves buzzing in my head. “I’ll do everything I can to ensure we both enjoy this,” I promise her.
She bobs her head once. “Then what’re ya waitin’ for?”
With a chuckle, I pull back a bit before plunging deeper inside; I try to ignore the crinkling condom. Rogue rewards me with a long, low moan – or, rather, Marie does. I take one of her hands and intertwine our fingers. I can feel her legs wrap around my waist.
I look into Marie’s face contorted with pleasure. Her mouth lies open, her eyebrows furrowed. Her breathing comes in short gasps. I really, really want to kiss her right now.
Marie’s eyes flutter open, and the moment vanishes. “Ah wish Ah could see what’s behahnd them glasses,” she murmurs, a note of sadness in her voice. She reaches up to run a finger along one of the legs.
We’ve come this close – I’m inside her, for crying out loud – but the barriers between us two, between us and “normal” teens, remain.
Without another word, we begin moving, dancing this oldest and most sacred of dances. Our rhythm is slipshod and slow to sync – a blessing in disguise, because if I thrust too quickly, it’ll end too soon. Our hands wander all over one another’s bodies, a quiet desperation in each latex-clad caress.
My awareness becomes increasingly muddled as we couple. Everything devolves and dissolves into a mesh of sensations: Marie’s moans of my name in my ears; the crinkle of the condom; the yielding softness of her breasts in my hands; the taut firmness of her rump and thighs; the soft coarseness of her stockings against my waist and lower back; the warm, slick tunnel around my dick as I thrust; Marie’s name on my lips. The tension within me builds with every movement, singly and in combination, driving me ever closer to the point of release.
Marie grips my hand; her other hand tangles in my hair. “Scott!” she grunts. “Oh Gawd… don’t stop… please don’t stop…” A deep-throated groan emerges to cut her off. I just made her cum.
Mission accomplished.
Knowing that I’d brought this beautiful woman to climax immediately triggered my own. Every pulse of my manhood felt as if it pumped gallons. I groaned my partner’s name, Marie, as all the tension poured out of me. I nearly collapsed atop her, but she caught me with a hand on my sternum.
Panting with exertion, we stare at one another, our faces inches apart. Those inches might as well be miles, since this is as close as we can come to touching without fear of triggering her powers. Nothing we’ve done tonight has changed that fact, nor could it. We both know it. We knew it from the start, but we chose to reach across this chasm between us, hoping to find connection.
I think we managed that much, at least, if only briefly. It feels a bit… hollow.
I sit up slowly and slip out of Marie. She relaxes, releasing me from the grip of her legs. Was it worth it?
“Course it was,” Rogue replies, sounding a bit put out. It’s only now I realize I’d said it aloud.
“Rogue… I’m sorry… I was just –“
“Thinkin’ out loud,” she finishes for me. “It’s okay; Ah was wonderin’ the same thing mahself just before you said it.”
Relieved, I nod. “That makes me feel a little better.”
Rogue purses her lips. “You don’t regret it, do ya?”
I shake my head. “Not at all,” I answer, emphatically so she’ll understand that I mean it.
She sits up slowly, removing the condom from her body. “Ah can’t say Ah do either,” she tells me. “Not exactly, anyhow.” Rogue deposits the used condom into the box, presumably for later disposal.
“What do you mean, Rogue?” I ask, taking her hand gently.
“As magnificent as all this was,” she begins, not looking at me, “it just… it felt lahk it wasn’t real, somehow. A pale shadow o’ how it should be, Ah reckon.” Rogue shrugs, clearly frustrated at her difficulty articulating her feelings.
“I think I understand,” I answer. “My thoughts were along similar lines a few moments ago.”
“Ah won’t say we shouldn’t have done this,” she continues, her voice thick, “but… Ah don’t think we should do it again.”
I scoot a bit closer. “Rogue…” I can’t let her shut me out like this. Not now. Not after what we’ve shared these past couple weeks.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Ah know what you’re gonna say: we’ve gotten so much closer these past couple weeks.”
“We have,” I insist.
“Ah don’t disagree," Rogue replies, “but there’s only so close we can get. T’naht proved it – there’s still that little bit of insurmountable distance.” She snorts. “We can’t even kiss properly.”
I sigh. “True, but we figured this out.” I wave at the bed to indicate what we were just doing together. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”
Rogue shrugs again. I’ve never seen her this dejected before. “We didn’t really figure this out,” she finally responds. “We found a clever workaround this tahm. But… romance needs spontaneity, y’know? Spontaneity’s too dangerous fer us, though.”
I start to argue, but she’s right. How many times, just in the past few weeks, have we come within a hair’s breadth of kissing? How long until the brief pecks on the lips aren’t enough, and we crave for the deep, passionate kisses denied to us? How long until that constant denial breeds a fatal resentment?
I swallow a lump in my throat. It’s not supposed to turn out like this. We should be cuddling together, basking in the afterglow of losing our virginities together…
But we can’t cuddle, can we? The most we can really have is this – our hands, wrapped inside protective barriers of latex, mimicking an affectionate clasp. A pale shadow, Rogue had called it.
I look into Rogue’s face. I think she’s thinking the same thing. I reach up to stroke her cheek; she leans into my touch. I see fresh tears dribble down her face. I catch the few I can, but it’s a futile, if romantic, gesture.
That phrase sums up everything that’s happened between us. Quite neatly.
“Ah… Ah think… you should go,” Rogue murmurs. “It’s almost curfew.” She pulls her hand from mine and turns away from me.
My heart sinks. For a few long, agonizing moments, I search for something to say to turn this around, to turn her around to me again. I find nothing.
As I dress myself again, Rogue wraps her robe around her again. She’s pushing me away. She’s cutting me off. I leave my gloves on for now, to show that, if she changes her mind, I’ll leave the possibility open.
Rogue walks me to the door. She still won’t look at me. Maybe it’s too painful for her. I know it hurts me to see her so heartbroken right now.
She opens mouth to speak, but seems to stop herself. “G’naht, Scott. Thank you… fer everything,” she finally manages in a shaky whisper.
“Good night, Rogue. We’re still friends, at least? I hope?” I ask, my own voice on the verge of breaking.
She nods. “Friends,” she whispers. With that last word, her voice strains to the breaking point. She shuts the door. Rogue’s shutting me out.
Dammit.
I trudge back to my room. I wish I could cry, but the energy beams that pour from my eyes vaporize tears as soon as they form. Just one more way my powers make me different.
When I reach my room, a glance at the clock tells me I have just enough time to shower before curfew. I peel off the latex gloves and throw them away. I stare at them, knowing I’ll always wonder just where all of this went wrong.
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A/N: Finally, a year in the making, the conclusion to this story. It's intended to fit into the existing Evolution timeline as cleanly as possible after "On Angel's Wings."
I feel like Scott doesn't sound quite the same across chapters - perhaps an inevitable result of the fact that I've been working on this off and on for nearly a year, and I was in very different head-spaces when I wrote each chapter, not to mention what I was reading around the time. I hope it's been consistent enough for everyone to enjoy.
I went back and forth for a long time over whether to include the latter two chapters, or just leave it as a one-shot. Obviously, I chose to write more, but some of you (like my beta) might think it worked better as a one-shot. You can certainly pretend only the first chapter exists, but I'd like to know! Please leave feedback - rating, reviewing, or PMing me on the forums. I look forward to reading your critiques!
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Season of Giving