Shiva

BY : Nemain
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General
Dragon prints: 5125
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.

SHIVA-CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather has a sticky cat... (Um, not as perverted as it sounds...) Ted! Get over there and rub her knees toute de suite! InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink are suroovroovy and yummy for archiving! Readers/Reviewers: You make me all girly and want to do bad things while wearing my old Catholic school uniform... :)


Scott was not quite asleep nor was he entirely awake. His fingers were tangled in Jean's hair and he could hear her even, soft breathing, but with his eyes closed he dreamt lightly of what they had done and what he wanted to do, strange threads of domesticity, Jean holding a red-haired little boy and a girl trying to get her attention, mingling with the racier, sweatier thoughts. _Jean'd slap me silly if she knew I was thinking that far ahe.Hel.Hell, I don't even know if she's officially broken up with Duncan yet... _ That thought brought him fully awake, one hand groping for his glasses as he toyed almost nervously with Jean's hair. She murmured and wrinkled her brow as Scott nudged her gently, murmuring "Jean...Jean, wake up..."
With a soft groan, Jean muttered, "Someone had better be dead or on fire..." before opening her eyes. Seeing Scott so close, feeling his arms around her and realizing they were in bed, Jean's eyes grew wide as she did a quick mental review, making sure what she was thinking they had done had actually happened. A shy smile crept across her features. "Hullo."
"Jean, I have to ask you something...don't look at me like that! Not that!" Scott inwardly grimaced-he could tell Jean feared he was about to propose again by the mildly horrified look that crossed her face. _Way to make me feel all special, Red. _ "Have you broken up with Duncan yet?"
"Huh?" Jean blinked rapidly. Not what I was expecting, but okay... "I told him I didn't love him and I wanted to see someone else. He asked me who and I told him it was none of his business. That was a while back..." She managed a shrug even wrapped in Scott's arms.
"So...is that why you're all jumpy at school? Dropping my hand if someone walks by in the hall, not hugging me in public...You're afraid he'll see?" Scott saw red-figuratively and literally.
"No, baby, no!" Jean patted his chest in an uncharacteristic show of nervous energy. "I just don't know how to be affectionate in public...You know hoch Ich I hate it when couples drool all over each other in the hall and at lunch!"
"I don't want to drool on you! Just hold your hand in the hall or maybe sneak a kiss between classes..." Scott sighed. _Maybe she's not as ready for this as she thinks... _
"Yes, I am." Jean's voice was soft and fragile. "Scott, listen to me. I love you. I. Love. You." She punctuated each word with a tap on his chest. "Let me get used to how it feels to be with you, take time...Don't rush me."
Scott huffed out a breath, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Jean, I have two speeds. Full stop and full speed ahead... I can try and go slow for you, but you have to bear with me sometimes, too...Understand that I've wanted _this _ for so long and now that we have it..." Scott shook his head, smoothing wisps of hair from Jean's brow. "Now that we have it, it's all I can do to keep myself from telling every single damned guy at Bayville that I love you and you love me and we're together. Just be glad Kurt talked me out of taking out an ad in the school paper," he joked.
Jean looked briefly startled but laughed a second later. "I'd have kicked your ass if you did."
Scott grinned happily, kissing the smooth skin on her forehead. "Oh, baby...I like it rough!"
Jean gasped in mock-outrage and pinched his bicep. "Well, in that case...rough love, babe. Get to your own bed. I gotta get my beauty rest."
"No you don't...you're already beautiful."
Jean rolled her eyes and gave him a mental shove. "I swear, any sweeter and I'd go into insulin shock!"
On that note, Scott gave her one final kiss and departed, albeit regretfully and with one last, longing look at where she lay in bed, hair tousled and eyes wide with something he could not name. The welcoming dark of the hallway was broken only by a shimmer of light from the upstairs study and a few muffled giggles that sounded suspiciously like Jamie. _Better not to ask... _ Scott purposefully turned the opposite direction and picked his way down the stairs in the crimson-tinted half-light of the mansion's first floor. _Walk it off, man...the night air will help erase all those naughty thoughts of Jean and her mouth...God, what a mouth! _ A crude phrase about chrome and a trailer hitch1 sprang to mind but Scott mentally chided himself, feeling perversely guilty and dirty for associating Jean with vulgarity. Scott clicked the front door open and slid out into the soft night air only to be met with the smell of clove cigarette smoke. "Remy," he acknowledge, knowing without looking who else was out there.
"Mon ami," Remy murmured. A faint indrawn breath and a pause, then an exhalation preceded the sound of a cigarette being put out beneath a booted heel. "You up late."
"Same could be said for you."
"I don' hafta be at school so early... Remy like the homeschool, eh?" The Cajun moved closer, becoming visible in the moonlight. "You upset?"
Scott quirked a brow. "Why do you ask that?"
"You look pissed, is all. Like someone done run over yo' dog."
"Just stuff...all this Kitty-drama. I don't know if I should shake her or hug her. And Jean...and A...a...and...fuck all, everything!" Scott flung his hands to the heavens.
"You got dat right, homme..." Remy chuckled softly. "Mebbe dis all some sorta Karma pour us mutants..."
"You've been reading Jubilee's Buddhist stuff?" Scott settled into the low bench between columns and stared out over the expansive lawn.
Remy had the grace to look sheepish. "A lil' bit. Jus' wanna know what she believes, eh? So I kin tell what's what..." He sat next to Scott in companionable silence, tapping out another cigarette from it's box and rolling it between his fingers before sighing regretfully and replacing the whole kit in his coat pocket.
"What was that?" Scott was on his feet, striding to the end of the porch before Remy could finish putting away his smokes. "I heard something on the side yard."
Remy was at his side in a moment. "Me too...you sure it ain't some sorta mutant squirrel?"
"Not even mutant squirrels call for Rogue..." Scott snarled, recognizing the voice belatedly. "That bastard!" he hissed, vaulting over the railing with Remy following. "I'll kill him myself."
"Wait up, homme!" Remy snatched at Scott's arm and pulled him back into the shadows. "Lessee how dis plays out, eh?" They had a good view of Rogue's window, and the silver-haired boy standing beneath it, close enough that Scott could easily blast him without a second thought, that Remy could reach him with a fully charged card and not bat an eye in calculation of distance.
"What?" Scott's voice was barely audible, but Remy heard him nonetheless. The Cajun shook his head and pointed at the scene playing out before them. Rogue's window flew open and her pale form leaned out. "Is she..."
"Whoa." Remy blinked twice. "She not got a shirt on..."
Pietro noticed, too. "I need to talk to you..." There was a pained pause as Rogue blustered in consternation, Pietro finally blurting "Wow-great tits!"
"Pietro! I'm gonna kick yo' motherfuckin' ass!" Rogue spat. She disappeared from the window and appeared a moment later, t-shirt covering her formerly bare form. "What the Hell are you doing here?"
"Rogue, baby...please come down! I've got to explain everything...I can! I swear!" Pietro made fluttering motions with his hands, effete gestures of supplication.
The Southern Goth was quiet for a long time, making Scott's breath sound ragged in his ears and Remy's seem too loud by half. Finally, she said, "Fine. Park bench. Twenty minutes." The window closed with a light slam and Pietro stared at it for several minutes before whirling and running in a blur, leaving his observers mildly dumbfounded.
"You don't think she'll buy his line of shit, do you?" Scott asked, still crouched in the shrubs.
Remy sighed long and low. "Mebbe not, mebbe so...Wit Rogue, she so desperate for love, she may jus' do it to make him happy, eh?" He shook his head dismissively. "Nah...Rogue not be like dat really, I tink..."
"What do we do?"
"Homme, you be losin' yo' touch...we spy!"

Kurt heard his mother pass Kitty's room, her footsteps something imprinted in his memory from his first days on earth. _Where are you off to this late hour, Mama? _ Gently, he disentangled himself from Kitty's loose grasp and regretfully shoved a pillow into her questing arms, making her murmur faintly in sleep-riddled disappointment but snuggle nonetheless. Padding softly, not daring to 'port for fear of waking up his girlfriend, Kurt let himself out of the room and trailed his mother silently, Astrid not turning around once to see if she was being followed. Kurt shadowed her down the stairs and across the foyer to the rec room where she paused at the doorway. He crouched low near the foot of the stairs and chewed his lip nervously. _What's she up to? _ Astrid stared into the darkness of the room for a long moment before speaking. "Logan? Are you there?"
"Yeah...right in front of ya..." The man in question emerged from the rec room with a faint smile on his lips. "What can I do ya for?"
Astrid smiled slowly and Kurt felt his stomach clench, a howl fighting to rise in his throat. She replied softly, making her accent heavier on purpose, making Logan's ears nearly visibly prick forward in interest, "I was wondering, as one concerned...um, parent-type person, to another...would you like to talk?"
"Talk, darlin'?" Logan's smile became unlike anything Kurt had ever seen before, predatory and soft all at once. "About what?" He adopted an easy posture, propped against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his chest.
Astrid tossed her hair back over her shoulders and tilted her chin up. Kurt dropped to all fours then, wanting beyond reason to rip the smile from Logan's face and shake his Mama at once. "Things..."
"Things?" The man shifted forward, putting himself mere inches from Astrid.
"Things..." she murmured. "I was thinking...drinks?" She raised one eyebrow suggestively and Kurt cried out silently for his father to show up miraculously and kick Logan's ass.
"Beer good for you?" Logan's voice was rougher than usual and Kurt had the mild satisfaction of seeing his mr ter tense as if just realizing what she was getting into.
"Great." Astrid sounded more confident than she felt, but she did not let a drop of her nervous tension seep into her words.
"I know a place...you ever ride a motorcycle before?" Logan was walking backwards, drawing Astrid into the dark room with his words. Kurt prowled forward, desperate to keep up with them and make sure Logan did nothing untoward, that his mother was not going crackers all of a sudden and preening for Logan's benefit.
"Ja...a few times. I hold onto your waist, right?"
_Gott im Himmel! Did Mama just...giggle? _ Kurt froze in mute horror as he heard Logan's bike roar to life outside. He had a sinking feeling about where his tutor was taking his mother-a dive bar on the outskirts of town Logan was known to favor when he was in a mood. _I'lll hil him...Mama doesn't belong in a place like that! I'll kill him and tell Kitty it was an accident... _

Amara stared at her hands, resting as they were in her lap. They looked fragile to her, like her bones were hollow bird bones and not her own at all. _I don't need protecting...I'm stronger than I look... _ The words sounded false even in her own mind. Amara was clad only in a thin linen shift that came down to her ankles, a remnant of home, of a place with warm, soft nights laden with the smell of olives and wine and incense and clean air, things that she sorely missed. She had not spoken with Lance since his narrow escape from arrest, ensconcing herself in her room to think. _Lance loves me. I know that. I can accept that. I just don't understand why. I've no power here, no position, no wealth...I don't understand half the things they have here-back home, I would have attributed most of the things I use everyday to sorcery and mischievous gods. Lance moves through the world with an ease I'll never feel. He is strong...he loves me. He lets me be powerful over him...He would kiss my feet in supplication if I so desired...would it be so bad to love him? To let myself love him? Would he hate me in the end, like my father? Would I have to make another blood sacrifice again? Would I hate him? _ Amara found herself in the hallway without knowing how she got there. She was staring at the door to the room Lance and Todd shared, wavering slightly. _He defended me to Tabby...he tried to take vengeance for me. Lance is subservient, a sure sign he trusts me. _ Amara pressed her ear to the door and, hearing nothing aside from Todd's buzz-saw snoring, let herself in. Lance was asleep and uneasily so, tossing and turning in his narrow bed. He made incoherent noises of protest against his dream, flinging an arm to the side in an effort to deter whatever was attacking him. Amara eased herself to her knees next to the bed and waited until he rolled towards her before leaning close. Her lips millimeters from his ear, she whispered "Lance, I don't know how to love you but I'm going to try." He murmured something sounding like a curse and she bit her lip, unable to resist adding a comment. With a small smile, she whispered, "Keep in mind, Nova Romani quidem artem amatoriam invenerunt.2"



1 Phrase is "She could suck the chrome of a trailer hitch" or "Suck the dimples off a golf ball." Geez, I've got a gutter mouth... ;)

2 Nova Romans invented the art of love. Lol.


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