BY : Nemain
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General
Dragon prints: 5147
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.

Standard disclaimers apply
A/N Muchos gracias a Foxfeather.  She rocks because
she’s cool.  J  And the ducks are now in costume fittings…


Jean sighed, slipping under the stream of water and letting the heat ease the
tension out of her shoulders and back.  The Danger Room session had been
just short of brutal, Scott giving no quarter under Logan’s watchful eye. 
Jean had been uncharacteristically distracted, alternately seeing Scott through
new eyes and berating herself for doing so.   She bore scorch marks on
one arm, the incident making her seriously question the feasibility of a
relationship with a team member.  If I get this distracted just
practicing, what’s going to happen in a real fight?  Tipping her head
back to wet her hair, Jean sighed.  Damn it.  I’m screwed. 
There’s no way I’d give up whatever this is with Scott…I’m just going to have to
stop being so damned protective of myself.  Open up…be as normal as I
can.  Right.  Me, open…that’s a joke.  I’m too scared…too
closed.  Scott wants me anyway.   The thought of Scott’s
determination to make her see, to know how he felt, made a small shiver run
through her stomach.  We’ve been lovers…kind of.  Can one really
hot, passionate session in bed count as lovers?  I don’t know… 
Jean felt her thoughts scatter, images of the evening last winter mixing with
new images, just created, of Scott in the throes of passion.  Oh, I
like…Jean felt whatever vestiges of control she had over her imagination
slip away.  Years of arduous practice spared the rest of the mansion from
the scenario whizzing through her mind, but Jean was consumed as in a
fire.  She imagined Scott, standing before her and wet with condensation
from the shower.  He would run his hands from her shoulders to her breasts,
passing his thumbs over her nipples, testing the weight of each orb before
pressing his lips to them, licking the rosy bud until Jean actually moaned
aloud, apart from her fantasy self.  She could almost feel his hands on
her, skimming over her stomach and waist, squeezing her hips and kneading the
flesh of her back and buttocks.  Her knees felt weak as her imagination
took a turn for the explicit, her hand drifting to her sex to relieve the
tension she brought to herself.  Her wet hair hanging in a heavy curtain as
she leaned forward, Jean braced herself with one arm against the shower wall,
letting her fingers mimic the actions Scott was performing in her mind. 
She could smell his skin, taste his kiss…  She could even hear his raspy
breathing in her ear, all courtesy of last Christmas.  As she felt the
blood pool between her thighs, something niggled at the back of her mind. 
Jean felt a tug on a remote portion of her thoughts, as if she should be
remembering something.  In her imaginings, Scott was kneeling before her,
her legs parted and his mouth working against her frantic thrusting.  Her
mind-self was crooning his name, calling it out with increasing urgency even as
her real-self was biting her lip against such utterances.  Scott answered
her back, clear as day in her mind.  Oh, Jean…what are you doing to
me…This did not strike Jean as strange, that he was speaking
clearly while his mouth was so obviously occupied with other tasks.  Soon,
Jean felt the shock ripple through her body that signaled the beginning of the
end and she sagged against the wall behind her, letting her other hand join in
with the first, swallowing a long, low moan as completion wracked her
body.  Jean gaspedr eyr eyes flying open, and choked on the running
water.  She stood, shaking for a few minutes, letting the rapidly cooling
water rinse away the rising flush she felt.  I’m alone…I shouldn’t feel
guilty for having normal, healthy sexual desires and responses.  Jean
sighed to herself, Back to Logical Old Jean again…Can’t even be ordinary with
myself…  Shutting off the water, she still could not shake the feeling
that there was something she needed to attend to, like there was an alarm clock
going off just out of hearing range, close enough to hear but still too far to
really pay attention to.  Jean toweled her hair into a tangled red mass and
sprayed it with detangler, deciding to forgo her robe since she had a room to
herself.  Dragging the comb through her hair absently, Jean wandered out of
the bathroom and into the room proper, drawing in a sharp breath as the
temperature differential raised painful gooseflesh.  Damn it.  Try
and be all liberal and get frozen for it.  I wonder if Bobby’s been
monkeying with the thermostat again…freakish mutations, every last one of
us.   I’d murder for something simple…webbed feet or something.
Jean dropped the comb on her dresser and scooted back into the bathroom for
her robe, pausing when she heard a wooden thunk.  Huh.  Evan must
be adding on again…He always builds shelves when he runs out of skate ramp
ideas. The thunking noise sounded again and resolved itself in Jean’s fogged
brain into knocking.  What did I forget this time?  Jubilee wants
to borrow my lipstick?  Jamie needs batteries for his Gameboy? 
With a savage yank, she tied her robe closed and stomped to the door, upset at
having to abandon her fantasy world so soon.  Just when I was getting
used to this whole imagination thing…”Who is it?”  I’ll be damned if
I open this door for something stupid.  The knock sounded again and
Jean growled, flinging it open, a scathing comment reon hon her lips.  The
sight before her made her freeze in her tracks.  Scott, out of breath,
sweating, shaking, stood in her doorway, his Adam’s Apple bobbing with strained
swallows.  “Scott?”
“Jean…what the Hell are you doing?”  He pushed past her into the room,
running shaking hands through sweat-damp hair.
“What are you talking about?” Jean closed the door rapidly, clutching the neck
to her robe closed.  “I wasn’t doing anything!”
“Shower!”  The word was a strangled gasp as Scott wheeled to face Jean, his
mouth working in muted
“Oh.”  Jean suddenly realized what was nagging at her—she should have known
better than to connect to Scott, to call his name as she had.  This had
happened once before, when she had been fantasizing about Logan during her early
days at the Institute. The man had left the room so fast he should have
been named Quicksilver.  Jean realized then that, if she was intent on
someone, spoke tem eem even, chances were good that she was projecting to them
as well.  Scott was pacing agitatedly, hands clenched at his sides. 
Jean stumbled to the bed, skin aflame with shame.  She felt tears welling
and her throat wanted to close with panicked embarrassment.  Let me die
now…Dear God, please let me manifest the ability to spontaneously combust, not
like Amara but like those people on Unsolved Mysteries.[1] Jean sighed.
No flaming mutant.  Okay.  Guess I have to handle this,
then.  “Scott, I’m so sorry…I never should have…”
“Jean!”  He spun on his heel to face her now, his face a mask of confused
anger.  “Sorry?  God, Jean!”  He was across the room in a breath,
pulling her roughly to her feet.  “Never apologize for something like
that!  Never apologize for your feelings!”  She gasped and Scott
pressed his lips against hers, drawing her breath into his own lungs and giving
his breath to her.  Jean felt her eyes roll back and closed her lids,
sinking into the feeling of Scott’s mouth plundering hers.  Her robe seemed
inadequate protection against the heat rising from his body.  “Jean…did you
hear me?  Did you hear what I said, when you were…projecting to me?” 
Scott was breathing raggedly, his eyes closed behind askew glasses. 
Neither moved to fix them, merely stood, close as they could, foreheads
“I…think so.  Yeah.  Come to think of it, you were speaking awfully
clearly.  Considering.”
Scott sucked in a breath and Jean was about to apologize for making the comment
when he burst out laughing.  “Considering!”  Stepping back, he shoved
his glasses back up on his nose and opened his eyes, making Jean feel
naked.  “You fantasized about me…about us?”
“I guess so…”  She could not meet his gaze, staring instead at the
scattering of freckles on her arms.  Scott’s hand closed over her wrist and
he forced her to look up at him. 
“Want to see what I fantasize about?”
Jubilee stared at the contents of her closet morosely.  Damn it. 
Cajun didn’t tell me what to wear.  Hell, why should a man have to tell me
what to wear? I’ll wear whatever I damn well please!  She grabbed a
tank top and a pair of jeans out of the closet, flinging them to the pile on her
bed.  Well, if this is a date, I want to be killer, right?
 Okay.  Be a good girl, Jubes, and pick something nice.  Nice and
jaw-dropping sexy.  Lessee…where would Remy take me?  Heh—anywhere he
damn well pleased.  Jubilee crossed her arms over her bare breasts and
chewed on her lower lip.  The clock showed it to be half-past noon, leaving
her thirty minutes to get ready for her first real date ever, and with Remy
LeBeau at that.  Panic setting in, Jubilee grabbed a tight, black skirt, a
daffodil-yellow tank top and a black sweater, diving into the clothes in record
time.  Lacing up her boots, Jubilee scrambled for earrings and bracelets,
bedeckhersherself like an Egyptian queen.  Fifteen minutes, and she still
had no makeup on. Would Remy even notice?  Hell, he notices if Rogue
gets a freckle.  He’ll notice if I’m bare-faced.  Does he care?
  Shoving her doubts to one side, she slapped on mascara and a
coat of lipgloss, tucking the tube into her hip pocket. 
Money…Okay.  Remy’s the type to pay, but just in case…Never want to be
caught without cab money.[2]  She ran her hands through her hair,
making it fall in tousled spikes.  Lookin’ good…Okay.  Stop saying
okay!  O…damn it!  Walk downstairs calmly.  No reason to be
nervous.  Not like you’ve been panting after him for, oh, like ever! 
How does Kitty stand sexual tension?  Jubilee pasted a smile on her
face and thumped happily down the stairs as if she had not a care in the
world.  Last minute make up check…hey!  What’s the deal? “Who
covered all the mirrors?”
“That would be Kitty…She’s in mourning.”  Kurt had a nasty habit of
sneaking up on people, in Jubilee’s opinion.  Her heart hammering in her
chest, she reeled to face the blue mutant. 
“Damn!  Warn a gal, huh?”
“Sorry…Actually, it was me that covered the mirrors, but she asked me to. 
It’s shiva.”
“The God?”
“Nein…something Jewish.  I’m still learning myself.”  Kurt shrugged
sadly, then noticed Jubilee’s appearance.  “Where’re you off to?”
“Ah…dat would be avec moi…” The two teenagers on the stairs turned towards the
low, smooth voice.  Kurt smirked faintly and Jubilee compressed her lips in
sudden nervousness.  “You look lovely, ma chere.”
“I think the response you’re looking for is ‘Thank you, Remy’,” Kurt stage
whispered, nudging Jubilee roughly in the elbow.
“How about ‘Get bent, Elf’?” Jubilee growled back.  Kurt chuckled and gave
Remy a sketchy salute before disappearing upstairs, leaving Jubilee and Remy in
an uncomfortable silence.
“So…chere…ready?”  Remy jingled the keys in his coat pocket and gave her
what he knew to be a seductive smile.
“Sure…um, where we headed?”  She took the rest of the steps at a more
sedate pace than the first ones.  Remy kept his place at the foot of the
stairs, necessitating that Jubilee stop very close to his chest when she reached
the last step.
“Ah, dat be a surprise, oui?” 
 “I don’t like surprises…” 
“Sure ya do…all de femmes, dey be likin’ when Remy surprise dem.”  He
offered her his elbow and she accepted out of politeness, knowing that if she
burst into the insane giggles burbling in her throat and ran back up to her room
in embarrassment, he would only follow her up to ask what was wrong. 
“I’ll bet that’s not the only thing they like you to do…”  she muttered
darkly.  Remy quirked an amused brow and led her out the front door, past
the garage.  “Hey, aren’t we going somewhere?”
“Oui, mais it’s not far…”  He jingled the keys again and Jubilee felt a
giddy wave of excitement pass over her. 
“So we’re walking?”
“Obviously.”  He smirked again and led her around the side of the house,
past the gardens and towards the lake.   
“Gumbo, where are we…”
“P’tite, anyone ebber de tellin’ you dat you be talkin’ too much?”  
He sounded more amused than exasperated but Jubilee clamped her lips shut in a
huff anyway.  “Now…close yo’ eyes.”  He pulled her to a halt and she
rolled said eyes, closing them only when he made a clucking noise of
disapproval.  “Now, trust me un peu…[3]” 
“Um, okay…Honor among thieves?”
“Sumthin’ like dat…”  Rsounsounded a little strained, making Jubilee more
nervous than before.  “Now, don’t be screamin’ or nuttin’…” Before she
could ask what he was on about, Jubilee found herself scooped up into his arms,
being carried across the grounds.  She did squeak but, true to
Remy’s request, did not scream.  She clutched tightly to his coat, too
excited to ruin the moment by asking where he was taking her.  “Gonna set
ya down now, chere.”  Her feet met a hard surface and she released his
coat.  “Open yo’eyes now.” 
“Wowza.”  He had taken her to the boat house, on the dock side.  The
row boat, little-used by the students but still in relatively good repair thanks
to Logan’s creative punishments, was tied to the pier, a basket in between the
seats.  A rose lay on one of the seats, almost obscenely red against the
whitewashed wood.  She felt her eyes widen at the sight—the rose, the
basket, the blanket folded beneath the bench seat…It was like something out of a
romance novel.    
He flushed a dull bronze but shrugged cavalierly.  “De rose seem a bit
trite, non?  Mais c’est la fleur d’amour[4]…” He sighed and spread his
hands, seemingly asking the Universe just what could he do about the rose being
Jubilee felt like she was made of sparkles at that moment.  Remy was
looking at her with an expression of hopeful nervousness and the knowledge that
she was making him feel that way washed any lingering doubts away. 
“So…lend me a hand in?”  Remy let out a pent-up breath and helped her into
the boat, balancing it as she found her seat, then following in turn. 
Silence reined as he unshipped the oars and nudged the boat away from the dock,
sending the duck that lived under the pier quacking into the reeds. 
Jubilee smiled at the bird, her gentle expression making Remy catch his
breath.  As her eyes turned to him, he made himself busy paddling out to
the middle of the lake.  She took the opportunity to lean back against the
stern, fingers trailing in the cold water, and watch Remy.  He had taken
off hiat, at, folding it to fit under the seat, before he got into the
rowboat.  Now she could see his biceps working as he pulled the oars, the
muscles shifting under skin she knew would be warm and smooth to touch. 
Down, girl…She bit the inside of her cheeks, willing herself not to stare
as he stretched long legs out in front of him, resting them on either side of
her shorter ones.  He did not seem to notice their positioning and
continued to pull, Jubilee’s eyes moving unwillingly to his chest and what she
knew he looked like beneath the black fabric.  Just because you’ve seen
him half naked on more than one occasion doesn’t mean you can picture him all
sweaty and sexy and delicious…  Jubilee gulped and averted her eyes
when she realized Remy had caught her staring.  His glasses protected the
direction of his gaze but Jubilee knew as surely as she knew her own breath that
he was looking at her now.  She could feel his eyes on her, burning her
skin and peeling away layers of clothes.  She did not have it in her to put
up a false-fight, call him on the direction of his thoughts.  He slowed to
a stop, shipping the oars again and letting the boat drift.  Jubilee
finally lifted her eyes to meet Remy’s, aware that her emotions were displayed
quite clearly.  “It isn’t fair.”
“Quoi?” One corner of his mouth drew down in confusion.
“I can’t see your eyes.  You can see mine.  You know what I’m
thinking.  You’re wearing glasses and it’s just me.  I know you have
some funky color thing going on, so take ‘em off.”  Jubilee made her voice
as strident as possible, trying to keep her tone level and not betray the
shaking she knew lay beneath. 
Remy sighed.  “Pour vous, cherie, anyting…”  He removed the glasses
and stared at her, red-on-black meeting sky blue.  “Better?”
“Mm-hm.”  Jubilee shifted so that she was sitting up, but she did not move
her legs.  His were still on either side of her, pinning her in place
should she actually want to move, and she could feel the heat of his skin
even though the denim of his pants.  He leaned forward and she had the
distinct feeling that he was going to kiss her.  Brave, ballsy Jubilee
faded and scared, almost-virginal Jubilation took over.  Nudging the basket
with her toe, she asked “Whatcha got?”
Remy sighed and passed a hand through his tousled hair, knowing when to
retreat.  “Los’o stuff.”  Offering her a smile, he opened the basket
and produced a bowl of chocolate-dipped strawberries.  “Dis, pour
Jubilee smiled openly.  “Oh, me likes…”  She had found the rose again
and was carefully passing it between her fingers, eyeing the strawberries and
Remy appreciatively. 
“Remy be tinkin’ dat you may like de chocolate, non?”  With a flourish, he
selected one of the berries and offered it to her, held delicately between two
fingers.  When she reached for it, a wicked gleam came into his eyes. 
“Non—lemme…”  Remy leaned forward and captured Jubilee’s hands in one of
his, pressing the strawberry to her lips.  She froze for a moment but he
did not let up, all but forcing her to part her lips and accept the food. 
“Dere.  Dat better…”
Jubilee knew her eyes were wide but she just could not make herself blink. 
The strawberry and chocolate were barely registering on her senses, so flooded
were they by the scent of Remy’s fine cologne and the sight of his face so close
to hers, his eyes narrowed in satisfaction.  He popped the other half of
the berry into his mouth, “Mmmm.  Strawberries, chocolate, and Jubilee…I
tink I got a new favorite flavor…” 
Sink me… Jubilee had never been the recipient of full-force LeBeau charm
and part of her railed against Remy now, angry that he was treating her just
like he would treat any other woman.  She swallowed her mouthful and licked
her lips, tasting the berry juice mingled with peach lip gloss.  Remy
looked at her tongue’s darting movements and sighed a little, unaware that he
did so.  Feeling a tad calmer than she had a moment before, Jubilee state
quietly, “Ya don’t have to flirt with me, Gumbo.  It’s me, Jubilee.”
Remy sat back, still holding both her hands in his one, and looked hard in her
eyes.  “Jubilee, I not be flirtin’ with you.”
“Remy, you’re flirting.  It’s what you do.”  She raised an eyebrow,
daring him to deny it.
“Oui, I flirt, but dis not be simple flirtin’, chere.” He released her hands
then and took another berry from the bowl, twirling it by the stem. 
“Jubilee, you ain’t never had a man like you, eh?”
“Plenty of guys like me.”
“I mean, like you.  Love you.  Want you.”  At this last, his eyes
pierced into her, a shaft of heat moving to her core. 
“They’ve wanted me…I lived off of guys wanting me, Gumbo.”  The reminder of
her past slid between them almost unnoticed, like a snake curling through
Remy sighed and broke the stem off the strawberry, flicking it lightly into the
water.  “Chere, I don’ mean jus’ for a quick fuck.  I mean want
you. All a’ you.  Body, mind, soul…”
Jubilee was visibly shaking now.  “No one can have my mind…”
“Not like dat, chere….Jus a place in yo’ mind, somewhere dey always be.”
If you only knew…”That would be nice…I think…” her lips felt suddenly dry
and she had to lick them before continuing, “I think I could want someone like
that.”  I know I could. I do.
Remy seemed pleased at her answer and leaned forward again, offering her the
strawberry.  She opened her lips readily this time and was more than a
little surprised when his thumb passed across her lower lip as she bit into the
fruit.  As she closed her lips, he captured her chin between his thumb and
forefinger, studying the bones of her face, how the light played across her
features and how she watched him.  Jubilee felt like a bug under a
microscope while at the same time feeling flattered.  “Chew, chere…” he
reminded her.  She complied, swallowing quickly, the strawberry leaving her
lips sweet to her tongue when she licked them again.  “Dere.  Dat make
it a whole lot easier, eh?”
“Makes what easier?”  He did not answer her then, not with words. 
Remy pressed his legs to hers, drawing her face to his.  She felt her eyes
drift close as his mouth pauses millimeters from her own and she almost
whimpered with the need he had stirred. 
“Chere, you want dis?”
Jubilee had no shame left.  “Oh, yes.  Please.”  His breath was
teasing her skin and she could feel the scratch of his stubble as he
spoke.  Remy paused for a moment more, heightening tension, before pressing
his mouth to hers.  Jubilee shuddered, pressing against him, and sighed as
his hand moved from her chin down her neck in a smooth, slow caress. 
Sliding his hand to the back of her neck, Remy deepened the kiss, begging
entrance to her mouth with a darting lick and a nip on her lower lip. 
Jubilee consented happily, tangling her tongue against his own.  Remy
sighed inwardly—Jubilee still kissed like an innocent, despite the harsh
introduction to carnal activities at such a young age.  He tensed as her
hands rested lightly against his chest, then moaned as they traced the outline
of pectoral muscles under his t-shirt.  Remy found himself leaning back
against the bow of the rowboat, drawing Jubilee with him.  The small vessel
rocked as the two shifted for comfort, kicking the basket out of the way. 
His hands clasped against her upper thighs, bare beneath the hem of her skirt,
and she slid hers around his neck, never breaking the kiss.  “Remy…” she
finally sighed.
“Je sais…”[5]  Things were getting very…warm.  She looked down at his
chest as if just realizing where she was; he followed her gaze and saw that the
rose had been crushed between them, leaving a faint reddish stain on the skin of
Jubilee’s upper chest.  “Poor rose.”
She noticed as he did.  “Oh, I’m sorry!  That pretty rose…” 
Jubilee plucked it’s crushed remains from her shirt and sighed.  “I’ll put
it in my drawer for later.”
“You gonna save dat? Chere, I get you a good one…you don hafta save a broke ol’
rose…”  Remy smiled gently at her.
“But I want this one…”  She pressed it against her chest again,
claiming it.  “Um, Gumbo, I think we’d better sit up.  This is…a
“Oui…careful den…”  He held still as she shifted, the boat tipping
dangerously to one side. “Watch yo’self, p’tite!”  His warning came too
late, though, as the whole kit tipped to port.  Jubilee let out a startled
yelp and hit the water first, Remy clinging to the boat fne ine instant longer,
half-hoping the boat would right itself. He joined Jubilee in the frigid water a
moment later, both sputtering and coughing.  Jubilee cursed a blue streak,
the rose still clutched in her hand and looking the worse for wear.  Remy
shook his hair out of his eyes and grabbed his coat before it could join the
picnic basket in Davy Jones’ Locker.[6]  Jubilee had stopped cursing and
was now looking at him curiously.  “What?”
“We look like drowned rats.”
“Oui, and what a lovely pair o’ drowned rats we are, non?”  He quirked an
eyebrow at her. 
Jubilee stared at him for a
moment, then burst into gales of laughter.  “Remy, you sure as hell know
how to make a date memorable!”
Ruth did not feel anything anymore.  Not even pain.  The woman had
been attacking her, not with words or fists but with images, exercises, and
solitude  She had been alone for over a day now, nothing to eat and only a
bottle of water—warm—to slake her appetite.  Ruth rubbed at her wrists
where the old man put too-tight bracelets, saying they would make her
safe.  She had passed out then, after he took her from the hospital. 
She hurt so badly and she could not make it stop as she had before.  The
man would not take the pain from her like she made the nurses and orderlies
do.  Her knitting bones ached and her seeping wounds made her dizzy. 
Ruth woke up in the back of a van, flat on her back.  The old man was no
where in sight and it looked like her aunt was driving.  She had crawled
forward and, so grateful to see someone familiar, even if it was Kitty’s mother,
she laid her head on her “aunt’s” lap.  The woman merely smiled at her and
stroked her head, Ruth being too wrought up to notice the incongruity of it
all.  Ruth had no idea where she was now, only that they had passed a lot
of farms and hills.  The house was little more than one large room with no
running water or heat, a table, chair and thin mattress the only furniture
present.  Ruth had been allowed to sit at the table on her second day in
the house while the blue lady talked to someone on the phone.  Ruth fainted
again when she saw her aunt change into that demon woman and, when she came to,
the demoness was glaring at her, berating her for beinak.&ak.  She told
Ruth that Kitty thought she was weak, that her powers were useless.  No one
loved her, the lady said…No one would even care that she was gone. 
See?  No one is even looking for you!  Ruth died inside, finally
succeeding in doing what throwing herself from that rooftop had not.  She
was numb, she was gone.  The blue lady came back.  Ruth could see her
moving in the shadows and wondered if she and Kitty’s boyfriend were
related.  Inside, her mind was whirling like a pinwheel and making her want
to be sick, but outside, she stared as if dead.  Numb numb numb. 
Stab me and I won’t bleed.  Kill me, I won’t cry.  Let me die,
please!  Let me die let me die let me die.  A little of her own
mind was left, enough to make Ruth know whatever was happening was bad, that she
would not make it out alive.  Mystique (What a strange name…who would
name their child that?) leaned close to her and seemed to examine something
in her expression.  Finding whatever she was looking for, Mystique hissed
in Ruth’s ear, “Today you become mine.  Mine and no other… I am your
family, I am your god.  Do you understand me?”  Ruth could only
A/N Kurtty next up, I promise!

[1] At least once each episode it seemed like someone
burst into flames in Altoona or something.  Kind of sad. 
[2] Was it just me or did all moms tell their daughters
to always take money on a date? 
[3] A little
[4] Bit it’s the flower of love…
[5] I know…
[6] Bottom of the sea, usually. In this case, the

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story