Galatea

Galatea Chapter Thirty One (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (tm), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch, and Uberbeta...I think Asmodeus is scaring the other muses. Must be the horns. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena get glomped for archiving/hosting. *g * ProPhile gets a musecookie because. Morgan...how's the trio coming, so to speak? Michael (the other one!) gets lots of muse kibble for being an interesting emailer. *G * Readers/Reviewers: Just when I thought it was safe... the ducks and Killer Kitties (tm) are back. I think they're staging an all-critter review of Westside Story outside my window tonight... Eeeesh.


She groaned as she looked at herself in the mirror. _Rogue isn't the only one with Clairol, _ Jubilee sighed inwardly. Her formerly rainbow-tipped hair waw a w a uniform, plain black. Her comfortable, ratty t-shirt and old gym shorts were replaced with improbably plain pajamas, a color she was calling hospital blue. She had tried to find her favorite yellow, but even the largest child's size was too small for her petite frame. She tugged miserably at the hem of the pajama top and shuffled her slipper-clad feet. Her jangling bangles were gone, replaced with a single pair of plain silver stud earrings and a plain ring on her right middle finger. And, she added mentally, with a slight smile to herself, her other piercing. _That one is hidden, though, so that's okay... _ She peered closely at herself one more time in the mirror-all traces of make up gone, gum spit out, hair brushed into a semblance of order, chipped nail polish gone on both fingers and toes and surrounding cuticles... _I am socially acceptable now. _
Remy sighed to himself as the light knock fell on the door. _Merde... _ "Belladonna, I ain't up to...oh. Bon soir, cherie."
Jubilee's brief flicker of expression was the only sign his initial greeting had been noticed. "I wanted to tell you goodnight. I know I was kind of snarky earlier today and feel bad about it."
Remy glanced past her down the hall and saw Logan already making his rounds. "Chere, we can't..."
"I know," she sighed, regretting the time it took her to become presentable. "I just wanted to let you know I feel bad about being so rude to Belle and apologize to you for being that way to your friend."
Remy blinked. "Uh..." He glanced to see Logan conferring with Jamie about something so he took the chance and pulled Jubilee into his room. "What you been doin'?"
"Huh?" She stiffened, trying to look nonchalant. "Homework, getting ready for bed...stuff."
"Non, cherie...you change. You ain't got rainbows an' bangles..." He narrowed his eyes and took in her pajamas, finally processing them. "Jubilation..."
"Remy," she sighed, pulling him into an embrace, "I wanted to make sure you weren't too annoyed with me for being so childish earlier. I mean, I'm not that much younger than Belladonna...I think...and it was wrong of me to act like that."
He experienced a disturbing sense of vertigo as she rose on her toes to kiss him nearly chastely on the lips. "P'tite, you didn' act...childish..."
She nodded fervently. "Oh, yes I did. I was embarrassing. I want to make it up to you. I'm going to make lunch for you and Belladonna tomorrow, before Amara's interview here."
"Uh...chere...no 'fense mais yo' cookin'..."
"Don't worry," she smiled. "It's under control!" She kissed him again just as Logan knocked and opened the door. "I'm going," she sighed. "See ya tomorrow, Cajun."
"Bon nuit," he muttered.
Logan raised an eyebrow as Jubilee passed. " What's with her? She smells like...Jean and Kitty mixed together. Too much gunk."
Remy sighed. "Je n'ai pas un ide..."1

Emma felt him watching her. She would have known he was there even without the psychic powers. He had been watching her for more than an hour, working up the courage to approach her. Finally, when she was sure she was about to snap, he came over. "Hello, Sean."
"Emma," he nodded, taking the seat opposite her on the other side of the fireplace. "I see Theresa seems to be doing well in your English class."
"She's one of bettbetter students, yes," Emma allowed, swirling her club soda in it's tumbler. She sorely wanted a sherry but a sharp question from the Professor that morning about the diminishing level in his antique decanter had driven her to Schweppes. "She and Sam seem to get on quite well..."
"I try not to notice," he admitted, sighing. "I've been wanting to talk to you all day..."
"Do tell."
"I think that you're blowing this way out of proportion, Emma, what happened was..."
She raised a brow as he faltered. After a long pause in which Sean became increasingly red in the face, she supplied, "A one time thing? A mistake? A faulty judgment?"
"Well..." He shifted uncomfortably. "Is that gin?" he asked, his voice just a shade to high.
"Club soda."
"Damn...okay. Emma, you are a beautiful woman and I admit I am attracted to you, but..."
She sighed softly. "We're adults, Sean. We both know sex does not always equal love."
"It isn't that!"
"What is it then? Are you afraid of ghosts?"
"Pardon me?"
"Your dead wife," she said blandly, sipping her drink.
"That," he bit out, "was uncalled for."
"It was a poorly worded honest question." She set her tumbler down and sat back to regard him, her hands folded across her stomach. "Tell me, Sean, are you afraid of me?"
"No."
She regarded the low flames in the grate for a moment more and asked, "Honestly, Sean, am I a bitch?"2
He choked on his own saliva at that. Sean turned purple in the face before Emma rose smoothly to her feet and pounded him on the back with surprising strength. "What the Hell kind of a question is that?"
She wandered back to her seat, pausing to examine a knickknack on the mantel. "It's an honest one. Again."
He felt the best defense was a good offense at that point. "Professor Xavier says I made you cry."
Emma's face froze for a moment in a mask of embarrassment and horror. Finally, she assumed a more neu, ic, icy countenance and replied smoothly, "We have two ears, two eyes and one mouth so that we may say only half of what we see and hear."3 The clock on the mantle sounded the Westminster chimes softly and she rose to her feet. "I have some business to attend to before retiring. Good night, Sean."
He blew out a breath he had not known he was holding as the door shut softly behind her. He did not know what he had expected from this meeting, but that was not it. had had, he told himself, admitted his attraction to her, but somehow, that did not make him feel as good as he thought it ought to. _Telling her was supposed to purge it from your system, not make it worse... _

A/N Yes, there will be more Sam/Theresa before long. And Rogue/Todd and...everyone. Just about everyone will get smut before this is done, lol.
1 I have no idea... (he said)
2 For some reason, this makes me think of the Far Side comic where the Devil is looking outhis his window at Hell outside and his wife is knitting. The caption says "Tell me, Margaret...am I a butthead?"
3 I have no idea where this came from but I heard it a lot growing up.