Constant Craving

CONSTANT CRAVING CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply


A/N Goddess Foxfeather gets lots of extra chocolate for archiving (and because Ted ate the secret stash she didn't think he knew about...) InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink get animal crackers in those nifty little boxes that look like circus trains for archiving. Vampyre: But if red heads have more fun, what about bald people? Readers/Reviewers: Okay. I think I've solved the snapping problem. I'm giving them castanets. We'll just tie them to wings and paws and let them clap 'em together when they're supposed to snap...Now I just have to figure out how to teach them to mambo... Oh, and to clarify, the Killer Kitties (tm) are copyright of ReiMars...she controls the beasties....just watch your toes!


Lance licked his suddenly dry lips, his mind disturbingly blank in the face of Irma Tolensky and her firearm. Remy spoke up, his smooth voice unmarred by nervousness. "We be friends o'Todd..."
Irma relaxed visibly. "Todd? Todd?" Her voice was high-pitched and only vaguely slurred. "He with you?" She craned her neck, trying to see past he wall of humanity in front of her. "He ain't called in forever..."
Scott spoke up then, striving to imbue his voice with authority. "Ma'am, we've come to talk to you about Todd. He's sick, you see."
"Sick?" Irmosedosed herself off again. "Goldbricking, more like. He ain't been sick a day in his life, not really." She turned and trundled back into the house, leaving the door open behind her. The three boys exchanged looks and Lance shrugged. He led the way, Remy following and Scott bringing up the rear. The inside of the house smelled of boiled cabbage and mothballs, tinged with something astringent. They stood uncertainly in the entrance way, each trying to picture Todd as a little boy, growing up in this house, running down rickety wood stairs, skidding to a halt on the worn rug and grabbing the jacket that still hung behind the door, the jacket with a frog emblem on the sleeve. Irma came back into view, swinging through a doorway like a woman on a mission. In one hand, she held a tumbler of pale amber liquid and ice cubes. Scott wrinkled his nose, recognizing the smell of Scotch from Logan's infrequent forays into Dewar's territory. "Todd was the healthiest baby, no matter what them doctors said..."
_Ah...now we're getting somewhere. _ "What _did _ the doctors say?" Scott tried to ignore the gun still in her hand.
Irma noticed his discomfort and smirked faintly, taking another sip of her drink before putting the gun down on a faded wooden sideboard. "Sorry 'bout that..been robbed six times in the past three months. Don't trust nobody." She waved them through a doorway into a shabby living room. Remy sat on the chaise lounge as if he were the king of England, gallantly ignoring the faded red fabric covering it and toeing a dead roach out of the way with grace. Lance and Scott were left to crowd together on a small loveseat with torn upholstery, a light brown pattern of leaves bulging obscenely in some places while baring the yellow stuffing in others. Irma leaned against the doorframe and polished off her drink before saying, "What's Todd say is wrong with him?"
The boys exchanged another glance and Lance took it upon himself to speak this time. "Actually, ma'am...it's,um, his heart, they think.":
"His heart?" she snorted. "They tried to tell me he had a bad ticker when he was born...didn't believe 'em. They just wanted to take him away from me...his father-the bastard!-arranged it all so I couldn't keep him." She fished in her tumbler and chose an ice cube to suck on before continuing, around a mouthful of scotch-soaked ice, " But you see, I was right! He ain't dead, is he?" She spit her ice back into the tumbler and asked with suspicion, "Is he?"
"No...no ma'am...Todd's not dead." Scott cleared his throat and pressed on with a bare glance at the other two teenagers. "He's in the hospital actually...he's had an episode."
"Episode?" She barked a laugh and let the remains of her drink fall to the ground. "Todd ain't ever had an episode of nothin' in his miserable life. The best day of my life is when he went to that damned boardinghouse upstate...wherever the fuck that is...Where you guys from again?"
Lance piped up "Syosset." It was a lie but he knew that this was one thing all three of the mutants would agree on...the last thing they needed was Irma Tolensky to come tearing up to Bayville in search of Todd. "Um, I don't mean to rush you, but we kind of need to get back soon...what did the doctors say was wrong with Todd when he was born?"
Irma raised a brow sloppily and leaned forward, exposing ample amounts of flesh in the process. Gin blossoms1 bright on her nose, she said in a slurred, thick voice, "You boys come all the way to Brooklyn and ain't gonna spend the night? I got a big bed..." she broke into drunken giggles, falling onto her knees in the process. Remy and Lance exchanged highly uncomfortable glances-both had experience with drunken women like this and both knew it did not end well.
Scott took a deep breath and held out his arm to help her up. "Do you need some water, Mrs. Tolensky? Some aspirin?"
"Let it go, Summers," Lance hissed out of the side of histh, th, motioning for Remy to pull Scott back.
Irma was already moving, however, and had a death grip on Scott's arm. She lumbered to her feet and leaned heavily on the teenager, a poor attempt at seduction already in play. "My, aren't you strong? Are your friends as strong as you?"
Scott colored quickly, his face red to match Remy's eyes. "Um...Have a seat!" He all but threw her back onto the loveseat next to Lance, who quickly rose and made a show of examining the cracked mantle over the fireplace. "Please, Mrs. Tolensky...we need to know."
She sighed bitterly and rolled her eyes. "It ain't Mrs. Tolensky. Just Miss. Never been married. Todd's daddy...he was the married one. He's the one who wanted a son so damned bad he was gonna take my little baby boy from me...Bastard." She sniffed loudly and scrubbed at her face with stubby fingers. Scott opened his mouth to speak but Remy frowned and shook his head violently. Irma was going somewhere with this and he would be damned if Scott's insane need to editorialize would divert her. "His daddy, he got those doctors at the hospital to try and tell me Todd had a bad heart, that he'd need surgery or he'd never see sixteen. Showed them for liars, didn't we? Todd's not dead and his heart ain't givin' out none..."
Lance closed his eyes in consternation. "Did they tell you what kind of heart problem he, ah, supposedly had?"
"A hole...who the Hell ever heard of a hole in someone's heart? And they said something about a genetic defect...liars, the lot of 'em." Irma's head lolled back on the sofa and she sighed, her bosom heaving gelatinously beneath her shift. "Hey, baby...you..." she pointed shakily at Remy, "You look like you know your way around the boudoir...what say you c'mon up and teach your friends a thing or two about women?"
Remy could not help the sneer that crossed his face before it flitted through disgust then settled on bland distaste. "Pardon, mais j'ai une femme...I don' be needin' anudder..."
Irma giggled again. "Aw, if it's the money, I ain't gonna charge ya...you're a friend a' my son's, after all!"
Lance was striding to the door before the words were all the way out of Irma's mouth. "Okay, well, we gotta go...been lovely and all and I'll tell Todd you said hi....Scott, haul it!" He grabbed Scott's arm as he passed and tugged him out the door, Remy close on their heels. Irma was shouting entreaties to stay alternated with curses against Todd, his father and the doctors at the hospital sixteen years ago. Lance, still in possession of the keys, had the car started and in gear before Scott and Remy were all the way in. "Let's get out of this Bizzaro2 world..."
They were on the freeway again before anyone spoke. Scott had a few false starts before getting out, "What the Hell was that?"
"That, mon ami, was an' old, drunk whore." Remy sank low in the back seat and sighed. "Dat be Toad's mere."
"No wonder he doesn't talk about life before Bayville much..." Scott murmured, a twinge of sympathy for the boy rising to the surface of his general dislike for all things Brotherhood.
Lance sighed heavily. "Look, we don't tell Todd we came here, got it? I know you hate us and whatever, but just keep this to ourselves, okay?"
Scott nodded readily. "I'm not telling anyone about this..."


Kitty ran into Amara in the Danger Room, almost literally. The Nova Roman was coming out of the room as Kitty entered, necessitating one of those oops-I'm-sorry-dances that people always do, before Kitty grabbed Amara by the arms and held her still. "You go left, I go right, okay?"
Amara snorted. "Fine." They passed each other and both turned a the same time, each opening their mouths to call the other back. "You go first," Amara sighed.
Kitty frowned slightly and asked "Is everything okay with you?"
"Fine! We're fine! We're just on a break!"
"Amara," Kitty said gently, "I meant _you. _ Not you and Lance..." _Though I have a million questions about that, too! _
"Oh." Amara stepped back into the room and let the door slide shut behind her. "Um...I'm...I don't know." She looked honestly confused, as if she had not thought about her own feelings for a long time.
"Do you, um, want to talk about it?" Kitty offered, her brows knitted in concern. "I mean, I know we're not, like, the best of friends or anything, but I can listen and you can rail all you want..."
Amara felt like all the air had been sucked from her chest. _Talk? To Kitty? As in girl talk? As in...I don't know how to talk to a girl. _ Amara found herself nodding, though, and Kitty leading her to a low bench under the observation window. "Um, I guess I just...I don't know."
Kitty waited patiently for Amara to find the words and, after several minutes of false starts, she offered the Nova Roman, "You know, I've known Lance forever. We weren't doing anything when Kurt found us."
Amara's eyes narrowed. "Really? Then why did you feel the need to tell me?"
Kitty rolled her eyes. "Don't go all turbo-bitch on me, Amara. Look, you're hurt. I'm hurt. Everyone is hurt...We're all in need of Prozac or something." Kitty snorted.
The slight girl sighed in defeat. "I just don't know how to handle this...being in a relationship. I expect him to turn on me at any time, tell me I'm worthless and slap me around...not the way I like, either."
"Ew. TMI, sweetie." Kitty wrinkled her nose briefly and patted Amara on the arm. "Look, Lance is driving himself crazy about this. I know him-he'll give himself a bleeding ulcer thinking you're mad at him."
"Really?" The idea of Lance being so torn up over her made Amara feel strangely lighter. "You think he's that upset?"
"I'm sure of it...look, they'll be back early in the morning. Go over to the boathouse when you get up and make nice."
"What about this whole holding out thing?"
Kitty laughed shortly. "I'm sure _you _ can think of something to do that doesn't involve outright sex but is still, ah, forgiving?" Amara responded with a low, wicked laugh that made Kitty suddenly wonder if the first aid box was stocked with bandages.

Logan felt tension ooze off of him like oil as he floated in the pool. The night sky was bright with diamond-like stars as he let the water hold him suspended, the cold having long since ceased to bother him. He inhaled and a light floral, musky scent teased his nostrils, part woman and part perfume. " 'Ro," he murmured by way of greeting.
"Logan," she said evenly, sitting by the edge of the pool and letting her feet dangle in the water, a girlish gesture Logan rarely saw her make. "How is Todd?"
Logan paddled over to her and levered himself out of the water, careful not to drip on her flowing scarves. "Well, he's stable. He's not worse, but they still don't know what's wrong. Chuck'll be back late tonight or early in the morning, so we'll know more then."
"None of the others found anything of use." Storm sighed and popped her neck, wincing at the loud noise. "That's so bad for me..."
"Lots of things are bad for you but feel good," he intoned, unable to stop himself.
Storm snorted. "Really, Logan. At a time like this..."
"What's wrong with a time like this?" He took up her hand and studied the palm as if telling her fortune. "It's as good a time as any."
"Todd's ill, the kids are overwrought..."
" 'Ro, in case you haven't noticed, we live with a bunch of mutant teenagers. Something is always going to be happening. Someone will always be in trouble, someone will always be upset. We can't put _this _ on hold until they sort themselves out. We'll never...anything...if we do that."
"Logan," Storm said after a long moment, "sometimes you are amazingly wise."
"So what does that mean?"
"It means, you have five minutes to go dry off before I come to your room." She rose and winked at him, making Logan grin broadly. "Five minutes," she called as she disappeared into the mansion.
"Don't get too married to that short time span thing," he called back, "it ain't gonna happen..."

Rogue was sleepy but not asleep. She stared at the box of test strips Beast had given her and the digital thermometer clutched in one hand. _I don't know what the Hell he's up to, but this is getting way too personal... _ He had also given her a small calendar to keep track of her periods on and several pamphlets explaining the human reproductive cycle that went more in depth than the cursory details they were given in sex ed at school. _Way too much to process tonight...And why do I have to pee on these things? I swear, if I pee on my hands... _ Rogue dumped everything into the armchair by her desk and stripped naked, flinging herself into bed with a weary sigh. _Todd, I swear if you die, I'll kill you. I love you, damn it. Why do things like this happen to me? I love Todd Tolensky. Little, freaky, bug-eating, slime-spitting, tongue-slapping Todd Tolensky. Todd of the formerly smelly body and greasy hair. Todd who does the most amazing things with his hands...Todd who knows all sorts of wonderful things to whisper when no one is around and can make me all wobbly and melt and want to sigh and keel over right then and there... _ Rogue rolled herself into a cocoon of her comforter and blankets and felt the tears rise. _Is this really love? I mean, how can it not be? I'll die if he does...I know I will. _
1 W.C. Fields referred to the broken capillaries on his nose as gin blossoms. Comes from drinking lots... Well, among other things, but in this case, it's drinking.
2 Shameless DC reference...I'm cross-pollinating. And I don't even like DC much...