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Limits	By : fuzzybluelogic Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2868 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Limits
- 2-Limits 2
- 3-Limits 3
- 4-Limits 4
- 5-Limits 5
- 6-Limits 6
- 7-Limits 7
- 8-Limits 8
- 9-Limits 9
- 10-Limits 10
- 4
- 5
- 6
Scott
Summers was having a Bad Day. He hated Paxil. He loathed and despised it and
wished plagues and poxes upon the pharmaceutical companies responsible for its
manufacture. Before Paxil was Zoloft, and before Zoloft was Prozac. His knew
his sex drive had been all but murdered and buried by the myriad of
anti-depressants he was on. He also knew that his bedroom apathy was making his
wife miserable. He just woke up from a particularly disturbing anxiety dream
where Kurt, of all people, had fucked
Jean in a hotel shower. Kurt, their resident little German He-Whore, probably
the least likely of all people to find his way under Jean�s skirt, was offering
sexual solace to his frustrated wife in a Paxil influenced night-time terror.
Scott stood over the toilet and watched all the little oblong white pills swirl
their way out of his life. He dropped the prescription bottle into the trash.
It wasn�t just the lack of libido that was making Jean unhappy. It was
everything. He didn�t used to be an asshole. He looked at himself in the
bathroom mirror. He supposed he looked alright. It was hard to tell since
everything he saw was tainted by the ever present red. His new visor, crafted
by Magneto himself, lessened the red tint considerable, but he still couldn�t
see color. The cones in his eyes had been destroyed long ago; he didn�t know
why he could still see red. What black
and white and red all over? My whole fucking Universe.

He was wallowing and he knew it. He
shrugged off his little personal pity party and went for a run. The morning was
brilliantatheathed in sunshine and the Mansion grounds blazed with varying
shades of light and shadow. He assumed the colors were breathtaking, but there
was beauty in the contrasts that he could see as well. It was the kind of morning
that begged for...yard work. He
grinned. He headed towards the shed where they stored all the gardening
equipment

Ro closed Kurt�s
door and slid her lock picks back into one of the thin braids of her hair. He
was safely out of the Mansion. She had arrived home early from her Mission in Atlanta.
She�d wanted to do this for some time. She walked out of the small entry way
and into the living room. It was a sty. Greeting her was the smell of incense,
burned matches, and...Fritos? There must be some sort of cosmic law stating
that a guy�s apartment of questionable housekeeping must smell faintly of corn
chips.
�ARRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
..rr....rr...rr.....� She looked up. A small Halloween novelty skeleton dressed
in pirate clothes and dangling from a little noose danced feebly above her
head, its batteries nearly dead. It waved its little cutlass sadly. Framed movie posters graced every available
wall surface. Posters that hadn�t been lucky enough to make the cut, leaned in
rolled bundles in the corners. His computer desk peeked out from beneath a pile
of Amazon.com and other shipping boxes. Ro picked up a few boxes: eBay and
Half.com. Beneath the boxes were soda cans and piles of CD�s. �As You Wish...�
scrolled across his lit monitor. A cardboard standee of Captain Jack Sparrow
loomed next to the computer desk. Tootsie Roll and Blow-Pop wrappers and
discarded sticks were everywhere, as
was dirty laundry. Bags of candy of every kind imaginable, boxes of condoms,
pirate themed toys, movie paraphernalia, and action figures cluttered every
horizontal surface. His entertainment center dominated the room. He had a huge
plasma screen TV surrounded by speakers. The DVD player and other devices were
nestled in racks underneath the TV. Two giant cabinets stood on either side of
the TV. Ro opened one. It was part of his DVD collection. She was staggered by
the sheer number of movies he had. On his coffee table were seven remote
controls and a large binder. Ro flipped open the binder, his movie collection
was organized alphabetically and by genre. He had a movie sign-out sheet on the
inside of the cabinet doors. At least that area was clean. The rest of the
apartment looked like laundry-phobic, sugar-crazed pirate satyrs had been
holding raves. She was surprised it didn�t smell like goats.
�Ick.�
She muttered, walking into the kitchen to examine the carnage in there. It was
a very nice and modern looking kitchen, and wasn�t at all filthy...probably
since it had never been used for actual food production of any kind. She opened
his fridge. Beer, soda, and one ancient Chinese take-out container greeted her.
His freezer bore only frozen pizzas and Toaster Strudel. His cabinets revealed
that Kurt lived on dry cereal, Pop-Tarts, candy, microwave popcorn and chips.
She knew he knew how to cook, she supposed he just didn�t have a reason. She
found a suspicious looking bag of multicolored sugar cubes hidden in a box of
Boo-Berry cereal. Wonderful.

He had two bedrooms, one was in
pristine condition...obviously the �guest� room, and one was strewn with
clothes and, surprise, more movie paraphernalia. She opened a dresser drawer,
completely empty. His drawers and closets were the cleanest areas in the
apartment, certainly not being cluttered up by clothes. No, apparently, every
item of clothing he ever owned in his entire life and possibly some that had
fallen through mysterious portals from the future and alternate dimensions lay
in giant heaps around his apartment. In
his hallway were his washer and dryer, she half expected to still see the
manufacturer�s instructions still in plastic inside both. Ro set to cleaning his apartment. As soon as
he walked through that door, she was going to give him such a lecture on
his slovenly ways.

Remy
LeBeau was having a Bad Day. He was not enjoying his big cup of activated
charcoal. Bella Donna had lived up to her name yet again. Honestly, when was
that woman going get tired of trying to kill him? He never thought he�d learn
so much about the stomach pumping procedure. His long legs dangled from the
edge of the gurney in the ER as he choked down the activated charcoal, holding
his nose with one hand. It was just
undignified to be sitting in a hospital gown, drinking something that tasted
that someone else�s ashtray leavings. He never liked this little trips home to
New Orleans anymore. It usually involved someone trying to kidnap or kill him
and then Stormy having to some rescue him. He hated Bella Donna and he really
hated activated charcoal.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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