Mirror, Mirror

Mirror Mirror Chapter Four
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *glomp * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: Get it yet? Morgan: *pokes with pokey stick* You about? Readers/Reviewers: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! J You’re lovely ducks for it.

Amara shifted in her seat, letting her long hair fall past her face in a curtain as she scribbled notes in her mother tongue. She studiously ignored Lance and his none-too-subtle attempts to get her attention until Storm called a break in the class. As the other students fanned out towards the mansion, ostensiably for a bathroom break, Amara started a slow stroll towards the boat house. Jean was back on light duty at Cecilia’s office and working slowly back to a full course load, and Scott was at work so the place was empty. Lance caught up with her easily, his booted steps crunching newly fallen leaves and twigs as he jogged to her side. “You’ll never be a spy,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on the yellowing shrubs around the small house, autumn slowly starting to leach the vibrant green from the leaves.
“Huh?” he panted, his bare arms dotted in goose bumps as he pulled her closer, never breaking stride. Brushing aside her comment in short order, he pressed on, “What the Hell was up with you last night? We had to go to the boardinghouse without you.” He stopped, making her pause perforce, and kissed her forehead. “I missed you.”
She smiled thinly and tilted her chin up to better look him in the eye. “It was only a few hours. I’m sure you survived unharmed.” She reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I needed some time alone.”
Lance frowned, moving his arms around her waist to pull her closer. “Why?”
Amara made a soft, growling noise of frustration low in her throat and twisted free from his grasp. “Because! I just did, okay?” She turned sharply on her heel and strode back towards the lake. A few students remained, milling around Storm, but for the most part she would find the solitude she craved. At least for a few minutes.
“Amara!” Lance shouted after her, startling a flock of slow-migrating birds out of one of the oak trees. “Hey!”
A wet, snapping sound preceded Todd’s voice. “Let her go, dude. She needs to work out the pissed.” He landed by Lance with a soft thump, straightening out of his crouch into a slightly hunch-backed stance. “Chicks gotta do that.”
“Thank you, Doctor Ruth ,” Lance muttered, folding his arms angrily across his chest. “You eating bugs again? Rogue’s gonna be pissed off if you’re eating bugs again,” he snapped by way of topic change.
“Hey, a guy’s gotta eat!” Todd replied tartly, rubbing the back of his hand across his lips. “Besides, what she don’t know won’t hurt her.” He paused, glancing around surreptitiously. “She *is* inside, right?”
Lance snorted. “Yeah. She went in with Kurt when Storm called break. Fuzzbutt’s up to something.”
Todd raised his brows, old habits dying hard as the urge to spy on Kurt surfaced with a vengeance. “Oh? Like what?”
“Like I don’t know! Who the fuck cares?” Lance snapped, throwing up his hands in frustration. “Got bigger problems to worry about!”
“Amara’ll get over it, yo. She’s just not as thick skinned as she thinks,” Todd shrugged, dropping back into a crouch and leaping to catch up with Lance’s long legged stride. “She’s never had to be, ya know? First a princess, then a bitch, never having to be out in the open and worry ‘bout shit…”
Lance stopped again, flinching as Todd nearly collided with him. “What do you mean?”
Todd rolled his eyes. “She’s just pissy about this little punks in town insulting her, ya know? All this mess with the Morlocks has her twitchy. Hell, it’s got most of us twitchin’,” he added, twitching theatrically to emphasize his words.
“What punks in town?” Lance asked after a moment’s hesitation. “The ones who called us freaks the other day?” Years of living with Todd had given him great insight into the other teenager’s body language. Like, right at that very instance, Lance could tell from Todd’s posture and general manner that there was something he was not telling.
“Um…”
“Todd, tell me or I tell Rogue about you eating Jiminey Cricket.”
Todd sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, opening them to fix Lance with an almost scared expression. “Okay, but you can’t tell her I told you, alright? Alright?” He bounced anxiously on his toes as Lance nodded, rolling his eyes. “It was before that… When me an’ her an’ Kurt went into town with Jean two days ago… Some punk-ass bitch of a kid pushed up on Amara in the college bookstore an’ was sayin’ things like she was a freak, a whore…” He frowned. “Don’t know how he figured being a mutant means she puts out lots but oh well. Anyway. It got real ugly an’ Amara sort of freaked out…” He swallowed hard, giving Lance a subtle nod. “You don’t know nothin’, right?”
Lance shifted to follow the direction of Todd’s gaze. Amara was striding towards them, her face neutral but her body held in rigid lines of annoyance. “Maybe,” he said softly, anger boiling inside him. He had dealt with idiots before—hell, he could give good as he got and often did. Pre-emptively. “Todd, you wanna go to town with me later? After class?”
“Huh?”
“I feel like goin’ to the bookstore.”

Rogue fixed Kurt with a hard glare. “No,” she said firmly. “I am *not* going to help you with this. I love ya, but this ain’t my place. I got enough crap in my life without adding your drama on top of it.”
“Rogue,” he wheedled, trying his best pitiful expression out on her. “Pretty please with sugar on top?”
“No. Nein. Nyet. Nada. Uh uh!” She folded her arms and drew herself up to her full height. “I will not help you play Cyrano de Wagner!”
Kurt sighed, deflating. “I’m being foolish. You’re right. Kitty will not want me back.”
“For the love of… Kurt, I never said that! I just mean that you’re going about this wrong! You’re being creepy stalker boy and not the sweet guy we all know and love. Some more than others,” she added after a brief hesitation. “Look,” she began, but paused as Jubilee bopped into the room, singing an annoying pop ballad under her breath. Rogue raised her brows as Jubilee spotted them, then turned promptly on her heels and retraced her steps from the room. Kurt had gone very still and was staring down at his toes. “Kurt, what’s up? You and Jubes have a fight?”
“Um, nein. Not a fight. Gottagobacktoclassnowbye.”
Rogue growled to herself as he vanished. “That tears it. Where’s Remy? He’ll know what’s up,” she muttered to herself, setting off in search of the Cajun.

A/N Smut next chapter. Be ye warned.