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First Times at Bayville High	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General Views: 21209 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I'm in no way affiliated with Marvel, KidsWB, or Cartoon Network, nor do I own the X-Men multiverse in which the characters move. I'm not getting paid for this piece.

Chapter List
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A/N: Greetings, readers. I've grounded this story in the X-Men: Evolution universe, and there will be multiple references to the events of that series. It is most definitely Evolution continuity as much as possible; where it isn't, I've tried to give an Evo spin to 616 aspects. In some cases, though, I've had to make educated guesses or outright fabrications for some of the girls who didn't get a lot of spotlight. So please, just try to roll with me if something doesn't seem to jive.
Individual chapters will have warnings as necessary, though I reserve the right to put simply "Other" in order to preserve any surprises. Feedback is always welcome, and I encourage the 3 R's - read, rate, and review. Discussion at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/28914-first-times-at-bayville-high/

Chapter 1: General Prologue

When April’s sweet showers had pierced to the very root of March’s dry drought; when the newborn sun had crossed but half of Aries; when the west wind had blown through every wood, orchard, and garden, and the birds first began to sing again upon their return from colder climes; when all the heralds of spring sang that the season had sprung – then the young women of Bayville, specifically the inhabitants of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, yearned for a slumber party, the likes of which had gone unseen for years, both to reacquaint long-time residents with each other and to help newer members feel included.

Nine young women lived at the school by this point, two years post-Apocalypse, all mutants: Amara (Magma), princess of Nova Roma, controller of flames and tectonics; Danielle Moonstar of the Seneca, weaver of illusions indistinguishable from reality; Jean Grey, telepath and telekinetic, exemplar of the phrase “mind over matter”; Jubilee, “Jubes” for short, a one-woman fireworks show; Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat), for whom solid matter poses no obstacle; Rahne Sinclair (Wolfsbane), transplant from Aberdeen, shifter of shapes into lupine forms; Southern-fried Rogue, whose mere touch transfers the very essence of the touched into herself – memories, knowledge, abilities, powers, energy, fortes, foibles; Tabby Smith (Boom-Boom), one-woman arsenal of cherry-bombs; and Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch), Magneto’s daughter, to whom the fundamental laws of physics seemed more like guidelines. All received an invitation from Amara, who agreed to play hostess. The party was set for a certain evening when none of them had prior engagements.

Amara, born to the royal line of Nova Roma, an island principality off the coast of Brazil, rarely acted like royalty around her friends, but that hardly stopped anyone from calling her “Majesty” or “Your Highness” in jest. Fluency in Portuguese, Spanish, and English and a laundry list of countries visited little helped her case when she pled that she was no different from them, nor did the long adjustment to American culture. After these five years, though, she finally felt as much at home at the Institute as she did on her home island.

Aiding her on that front was dating Sam Guthrie (Cannonball). Their year-and-a-half relationship bore all the marks of seriousness. Amara loved him for his goofy sense of humor, his plainspoken demeanor, and the way he treated her no differently from anyone else.

She hummed a rumba to herself softly as she arranged the snack trays, her hips swaying of their own accord. Quite the sensual girl, she thoroughly enjoyed how her teal panties hugged her hips and how they looked on her butt. However, she was glad she had taken to wearing Sam’s tank-tops as sleepwear – for modesty’s sake in this case, but in general because they always smelled like him. Her bronze skin showed easily through the fabric, nowhere more evidently than her nipples, but she seemed not to notice.

Danielle, still shy after only eight months at the Institute, sat on a rug, observing the other girls with large dark eyes. Like Amara, her skin was dark – darker, in fact – but she showed less of it in her blue tank-top and navy sleep-pants. She hugged her knees loosely.

Her reservation stemmed from a combination of factors, including growing up on a reservation. She also feared her powers and her own shaky control of them, a lack of control which had made old family friends turn their backs on her and hers. Kitty, she knew, had gotten past their rocky introduction, but she could not forgive herself quite so easily.

Dating Bobby Drake (Iceman) the last month or so had helped bring her out of her shell a bit. His wacky antics and general extroversion simultaneously amused and maddened her. Danielle never knew what he had up his sleeve next, but his surprises usually proved fun and exciting.

Longtime Institute resident Jean lounged on half a sofa, chatting with longtime friend Kitty. Her long legs – she was the tallest of the girls by a fair margin – she kept curled near her, to leave the other half of the sofa for seating. From time to time she tucked an errant strand of crimson behind her ear, hoping against hope that her favorite robin’s-egg-blue Henley was not so short that she would provide a free, unintended show to Kitty or the others.

Now in college, private since her family was well-connected, Jean regaled Kitty with tales of late-night study sessions and long discussions with professors, of nigh-inedible caf food and annoying dorm-dwellers. Again and again she mentioned how glad she was that she could make the party, owing to a brief lull in coursework before the end-of-semester push. Though a sophomore, and thus less homesick than she had been previously, she still missed life at the Institute and relished each opportunity to visit.

The only other mutant she had regular contact with was her boyfriend, Scott Summers (Cyclops), who attended a state university. He visited her, or she visited him, one weekend each month; Jean placed them on that strict schedule so both of them could focus on their educations. They had been a couple since senior year at Bayville High, and friends for longer than either could remember. Knowing him like she did, she suspected he was planning to propose soon; however, she loved and respected him enough not to peek and find out for sure.

Jubilee played the pinball machine on the periphery, since it was one of the few forms of entertainment her volatile powers would tolerate; they tended to short out DVD players, CD players, consoles, even the arcade machines at the malls she once called home. The San Francisco native, descended from Chinese railroad workers, had only fairly recently returned to the Institute after a lengthy hiatus at home. Her parents had withdrawn her after the first Sentinel incident exposed the existence of mutants and the Institute as a mutant school. Now eighteen, she had chosen to return.

Still fond of neon colors and big earrings, such as the electric-blue tee and hot-pink shorts she currently wore – which, incidentally, showed off her nimble gymnast’s legs – she had outwardly changed little. The time away had been difficult, though; that much was plain to those who knew her before. Formerly exuberant and carefree, she now guarded herself with an almost prickly demeanor, especially about her absence. Readjusting to the Institute was proving more difficult than anyone had guessed.

Kitty eagerly listened to Jean’s tales of college life from the other end of the sofa, munching on apple slices. Now a senior, she wanted to glean as much information as possible, so she could prepare for the next phase of her life. She already planned to major in computer science, once she decided where she wanted to attend.

She still wore the same pale-pink top and bike shorts to sleep in, the same sleepwear that half the school had seen her in when Kurt’s sneezing fit had teleported them all over town. Her chestnut hair she still wore up in her signature ponytail and bangs. In fact, little about her – including her effervescent personality – had changed since she had first come to the Institute.

The biggest change came in the form of Piotr Rasputin (Colossus), former unwilling Acolyte of Magneto. The burly Russian had caught her fancy while still an “enemy,” when he faced down the Master of Magnetism who held his family hostage as insurance. Since his arrival at Xavier’s last year, the gentle giant could finally feel free to rebuild his life, and Kitty put herself at the front of the line of helpers. A week before Passover – two weeks ago – they celebrated their tenth month together.

Rahne, far from her home in the Scots Highlands, reclined immodestly on her sleeping bag, clad in a slinky violet nightgown that she thought accentuated her sun-kissed skin, fiery red hair, and green eyes. Restless and fidgety, she much preferred the outdoors, under sun or moon, to being cooped up inside, especially now that the weather had grown warmer. Everyone had begun to feel the spring, but none more than the single 17-year-old “werewolf,” who could literally smell the coming seasonal changes in the others, especially the boys.

The yearning she felt in her loins on the doorstep of Beltane was not strange to her, not for two years now; but each year the urges seemed to grow stronger. Despite having doctors repeatedly determine that her biology remained fully human in its rhythms, part of her had long wondered whether her pituitary gland were more lupine. Part of her hoped the urges would be sated through mating without need for procreating. Her on-again-off-again relationship with Jamie Maddox (Multiple) – currently “off” – was complicated enough already.

Rogue, normally too much a loner to attend a party, sat cross-legged in an armchair she had dragged near the sofa in order to join, or at least listen in on, Jean and Kitty’s conversation. Her posture ensured none of the others would accidentally step on her bare feet, and she wore a long-sleeved black shirt underneath her usual white tee to cover her arms. She could only hope that the layered tops would not combine with the full-length green pants to overheat her as the night continued.

Though she had graduated in the same year as Scott and Jean, she had elected not to pursue an education, since school had always presented more challenges to her than opportunities. Figuring that gainful employment would prove just as problematic, she remained at the Institute as a mentor to younger students, especially those who feared their own powers. At the Professor’s request, she had even led several Danger Room training sessions when he and Wolverine were unavailable for whatever reason. Thus, to meet the challenges, she trained frequently to remain in tip-top shape.

She dreaded the day that Kitty, her former roommate and closest remaining friend, left for college, since she hardly knew any of the other girls, not even her new roommate. Worse yet, most of them had laid claim to all the cute boys, besides her step-foster-something-brother Kurt, and she had no desire to interfere with other girls’ relationships. However, there was a certain charmingly-infuriating, infuriatingly-charming Cajun, Remy LeBeau (Gambit), recently arrived and supposedly reformed. She snorted softly to herself, only willing to believe him once she saw some concrete proof.

Rogue’s new roommate Wanda descended the staircase nervously, wearing a long, revealing scarlet satin nightgown – slits nearly up to her hips and a neckline halfway to her navel, exposing generous cleavage. Her nerves had nothing to do with her sleepwear, though; rather, the former foe of the X-Men, daughter and sister of the X-Men’s longtime foes Magneto and Quicksilver, feared further alienating the others ever since she and her repentant father had come to live at the Institute at the Professor’s behest. The tension around them, a product of their formidable powers and years of bad blood, had eased somewhat since their February arrival, but she felt intense pressure to make friends tonight.

She had changed so much since Mystique had brought her out of an insane asylum to use as a weapon, changes symbolized by her growing out her jet-black hair, though she still dyed the tips blood-red. No longer so angry, she yearned for greater normalcy in her life – friends primarily, since she had been robbed of her adolescence. Given the difficulty of relating to her roommate, a fellow introverted Goth, she had no illusions about the ease of being embraced by the others.

Amara turned to the others and smiled broadly. Her smile faltered, though, when her head-count came up short by one. Everyone was here besides her roommate. She even recounted by roommate pairs, just to be sure – Rogue and Wanda, Rahne and Jubilee, Kitty and Danielle, and Jean, who roomed alone even before she left for college.

“Has anybody seen Tabby?” she asked the assembled mutants. She got mostly shrugs. Amara sighed and sat on a cushion. “She said she would be here tonight. I guess we will just have to start without her.”

Kitty glanced over at Jubilee. “Haven’t you, like, posted the top score, like, three times already?” she teased lightly, aware of Jubilee’s touchiness.

Jubilee shook her head, her long black hair shimmering slightly in the light. “Nope… still working on Sam’s score. Bastard’s good at this machine.” The machine rang a few more times as it continued to tally her points.

Before a stunned Amara could respond to her boyfriend being called a bastard, the door opened. “Did I just hear Jubes say she scored with Sam?” came the flirty alto of the party’s missing member. “You gonna roast the slut, roomie, or you want me to start dropping bombs?”

Jubilee turned, eyes flashing. “What did you call me?” she growled, her hands leaving the pinball machine – which soon registered “game over” as her last ball dropped – and starting to crackle. “Bring it, bitch. You don’t even know the world of hurt you’re about to enter.”

Jean held up her hands, gripping both of them telekinetically and pinning their hands to their sides, neutralizing them. “Ladies, please, behave,” she admonished. “Jubes, Tabby was kidding. Sure, it was a bad joke, but a joke all the same.”

“Yeah, jeez,” Tabby chimed in, “overreact much?”

“Fine, whatever,” replied Jubilee. She relaxed so Jean would release them.

Amara let out the breath she had been holding. “What kept you?” she asked her roommate.

“I thought I left a note: I got called in to work this morning while you were in the shower,” replied the blonde. She unzipped her rain-spattered trench coat to reveal her Hooters shirt and orange shorts. “I also got caught at every friggin’ light on the way back.”

Amara nodded and smiled at her. “Well, at least you are not too late. Come, join in. We were just getting started.”

Tabby balked. “Everyone’s in their pajamas.”

“Duh,” snarked Jubilee, “it’s a slumber party.”

Tabby’s blue eyes narrowed, but she gave her wickedest smirk. “I guess you’re right” was all she said aloud, but she let her actions speak for themselves as she pulled off her jacket, shirt, and shorts.

“I thought you’d left work for the day,” fired Jubilee. “Where’s your music?”

“I sleep naked, genius,” replied Tabby with an eye-roll. She turned toward Amara. “Would it be bad form to go full-frontal in front of everyone?”

The princess shrugged. “You know I do not really care, but the others might, especially Jubilee.”

“Yeah, ew.”

“Okay, just for that, I’m not going upstairs for a bathrobe, and the rest of you can deal.”

With that, Tabby sauntered over toward Amara to sit, flaunting her bombshell body in nothing but a matching fuchsia set of Victoria’s Secret bra and thong. Her pierced navel, armband tattoo, and lower-back tribal design were also on full display. She knew how to strut her stuff, aiming to become a model, or at least a Playmate.

In truth Tabby had always had a wild streak, though she preferred to call herself a “free spirit.” Raised by her drunkard criminal father, she had a rap sheet a mile long by sixteen, dropped out of school and the Institute at seventeen, and freeloaded off those Brotherhood losers for a while. With her record sealed as part of a plea bargain against her dad, she started working at various restaurants and living on her own.

Once Apocalypse had been defeated, the Professor – at Amara’s insistence – offered Tabby a second chance at the Institute. Because she missed the friends she had made, she accepted, with the caveat that she would still work to help cover her room and board; she determined the Professor deserved better than a freeloader, so she would pay her share, her way. The fact that she had some responses to her portfolio already only strengthened her resolve.

Kitty regarded the beleaguered-looking Amara gently with her bright blue eyes. “So, like, what’re we gonna do?”

Amara laughed nervously. “Well, I would suggest Twister, but I think some of us – not naming names – might intentionally jostle each other.”

Tabby rolled her eyes. “Me and Jubes, you mean.”

“Ah don’t wanna absorb anyone t’naht,” Rogue added.

“Besides,” interjected Jubilee, “I’d kick all your asses anyway.”

Amara forged ahead. “Limbo is pretty popular in Nova Roma, but I think some of us might flash the others.”

Rahne chimed in at this point. “We’re all lasses, nay? We’ve all got the same bits, t’ be surre.”

Amara shook her head. “I have no qualms with nudity, but I have learned that most Americans do.”

Wanda giggled. “Besides, there might be lesbians in the group, who’d enjoy such a show,” she said, inflecting her voice with a mock-horror-story tone. When her joke was met with crickets chirping, she winced. “I was only kidding.”

Jean offered, “Perhaps we could start by agreeing to be nice from now on tonight. It’s so rare that we’re all here together; let’s not ruin the opportunity with cruelty to each other.”

The girls all mulled over that thought. Slowly, each nodded. Danielle spoke up first, shocking everyone: “And no more mean jokes, about anyone.”

“Sorry,” Wanda muttered sheepishly.

“Me too,” said Tabby, looking meaningfully at Jubilee, who merely nodded. To Amara, Tabby added, “And sorry for insinuating that Sam would cheat on you.”

The princess beamed. “He never would. It may sound sappy, but he truly is my knight in shining armor.”

Jean smiled warmly. “Anyone who’d call it sappy hasn’t felt that way, with maybe a hint of sour grapes.”

“Ya cain’t go wrong with a good ol’ boy,” Rogue added with a wink.

Eyes twinkling with mischief, Tabby teased, “I bet you two are waiting till marriage to even kiss.”

Amara laughed. “You should know better, having walked in on us plenty.”

The bombshell nodded. “Making out and fooling around, yeah, but never boinking.”

“Have you, like… y’know,” Kitty stammered, flushing, voice softening, “actually gone all the way?”

Amara looked around the room and breathed deeply. “Yes, we have.”

Tabby’s jaw dropped. “No way! You never told me? How could you not tell me?”

“How was he?” blurted Rogue.

“Rogue!” chided Kitty. “She doesn’t have to, like, tell us!”

“The hell she don’t,” shot back the sassy Southerner. “Ah want details; so sue me.”

“I’m with Rogue,” announced Tabby. “Spill!”

Amara licked her lips and ran a hand through her hair. “Well… okay. I will tell you all about it, in the spirit of friendship. Just… no one tell my sweet Sam I told, please?”

The others nodded, scooting closer to hear Amara better.

“Do we need to have the dentist’s office on call to fill our cavities from the sweetness?” teased Tabby.

“Maybe,” retorted Amara stiffly. Her smile quickly returned as she began speaking. “I have been keeping it to myself since New Year’s, and I have been dying to tell someone. It was as close to perfect as a first time can get, I think.”
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First Times at Bayville High