Galatea

Galatea Chapter Six (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (tm), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta...*crossing fingers and toes * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena get huge sparkley wings for archiving/hosting. :) ProPhile gets warm weather for being a smutmuse. Readers/Reviewers: The platypi want to go water skiing. I think the Killer Kitties (tm) put them up to it...

"Hey, Princess, me an' Todd were goin' to go see a movie. Wanna come with?"
Amara winced as her jaw worked. Her tongue had swollen a bit since the piercing a few hours earlier and she could not talk without it hurting.1 Instead, she shook her head and fled upstairs to seek comfort in heavy analgesics.
Lance frowned after her and sighed. "She's still not talking to me."
"Why not? You piss her off or something?" St John did not even look up from his video game as Lance flung himself down onto the sofa beside him.
"Dunno," he said sulkily. "She's been weird since I said that chick on page twenty two was hot."
"Huh?"
"Um..." Lance flushed suddenly. It had been vaguely embarrassing, being caught looking at the magazine, but Amara did not pitch a fit like Kitty had one one time she had found his stash of magazines. Rather, she peered at the pictures as if committing them to memory and made him flip through the whole thing, asking questions about it and other adult materials in his room.
"Ah. She caught you...er...red handed, I take it?" He hit pause on the game and glanced at him in amusement.
"No!" Lance pushed hair out of his eyes and frowned even more deeply than before. "She got all pissy when I said I thought this one girl was hot..."
"Dumb ass."
"Huh?"
"You never," he grabbed Lance by the shoulders and shook him for emphasis with each word, "never, never ever tell a girl you think another girl is hot!"
Lance jerked out of St John's grasp. "Amara's cool. She doesn't care...she knows it doesn't mean anything."
St John rolled his eyes. "You are an idiot."
"I think I know more about my girlfriend than you do," Lance began.
"I'm talking about people in general here... No one wants to be compared to anyone else by someone they love. I mean," he shifted to face him more fully, preparing to wax philosophic, "if Bobby was looking at some t.v. show and said some guy was hot, it'd bother me a little."
"It's friggin' ridiculous to expect him to be blind just cause he's with you!" Lance shook his head in irritation. "Love makes you faithful, not blind."2
"It's one thing to look," St John intoned gravely. "It's another to make her feel bad by pointing out a hot girl and making her feel inadequate."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "That'll never catch on at Hallmark."
St John shrugged. "You made her feel unattractive. You suck."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I still like you. She probably won't sleep with you for a while, though." St John shut off the game and stood, stretching. "Want some pizza? I'm going to nuke what's left."
Lance followed him into the kitchen and settled in one of the chairs as St John retrieved the leftovers from the fridge. "Amara knows it doesn't mean anything when I look at stuff like that..."
"She tell you that?"
"Yeah."
"She's lying," St John pronounced with certainty.
Lance waited until the other teenager was seated across from him before asking, somewhat diffidently, "How do you know?"
"Okay," he said around a mouthful of cheese and crust, "pretend you caught Amara looking at some really attractive guys... How would you feel?"
"Uh...huh." He picked at his pizza a moment before responding. "I dunno. I can't see Amara doing that."
"Pretend."
"I guess I'd feel kind of...eh."
"Eh?"
"They're just pictures. I'm not threatened by paper."
"Ah, but that image is in her mind, enticing her... What if she's thinking about it when you're in bed or on the floor or whatever the Hell it is you two do that knocks plaster down in the downstairs library?"
:Lance looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, that'd suck." The idea of Amara with anyone else, imagined or real, made him feel like hitting something. Hard. Preferably whoever she was thinking of.
"Now, take Amara's temper and general random mood disorder and jealousy, add those thoughts and how do you think she'd act?"
"Oh, crap," he groaned. "She's going to do something painful, isn't she?"
"Wear a cup for the next few days is all I'm saying..."

Jubilee eyed Jean warily. She knew what was coming and wanted to avoid it at all costs. "Jubilee, have you heard..."
"No!" She clapped her hands over her ears. "Hear no evil, Jean. No one's told me a thing!"
"Oooookay..." Jean raised a brow at her. "I was hoping you would change your mind."
"Jean, look...I'm sorry someone stole from you and it sucks used porn ass that it happened, but I can't be a rat." After a pause, she sighed. "I really am sorry."
Jean shrugged in pseudo-diffidence. "Okay."
Jubilee frowned and fiddled with the bottle of painkiller. "Damn it..." Shoving it towards Jean, she demanded, "Open this."
Jean took the bottle and opened it easily. "Why not?"
"Gah!"
"Jubilee, do you know what they took?"
"Jewelry."
"How'd you know?"
"Small, easy to miss...you didn't say anything till late at night. You didn't notice it when you got back from school and work. I'm guessing you didn't notice till after you showered. Your hair was still damp when we all met up and it's freezing outside-you wouldn't have gone out with wet hair unless you were pissed." She dry-swallowed two Aleve and continued, "So what I'm thinking is that you came home, did whatever it is you do between getting home and showering, probably Scott and homework but not necessarily in that order, took a shower, got ready for bed, took off your earrings and noticed something missing as you put them away."
Jean stared at Jubilee for a long moment. "Amazing, Holmes, but what of Moriarty?"3
Jubilee winced as she tried and abandoned the idea of sitting down. "So it was a piece of jewelry?"
"Yes," Jean sighed. "My...well, I guess you could call it my engagement ring."
"That purple one you wear all the time? I thought you never took it off!"
Jean looked as if she were on the verge of tears. "We're doing clinicals at school and can't wear jewelry on our hands... I didn't want to leave it in the locker at school so..." She sniffed hard. "I thought it would be safer here!"
Jubilee stifled a groan as a few tears leaked from the corners of Jean's eyes. "Look, I'm almost positive it'll turn up. Did you check behind the dresser?"
"Yes, I looked everywhere!" She dashed away the tears angrily. "I don't care who took it! I just want it back!"
Jubilee shifted uncomfortably. "Jean, look..."
Jean shook her head. "I can't expect you to understand how awful this is!"
Jubilee sucked in an angry breath. "Excuse me?"
Jean froze for a beat. "Nothing."
"No," she hissed. "You think I don't care use use of...of before." She clenched her hands at her side, fighting a raging outburst. "I thought you understood... I guess you were lying to me for the past few years then. Fine. Whatever."
Jean swore vehemently and sent a heavy, unused ashtray flying into the wall as Jubilee stomped-painfully-off. She was tempted to ignore the ringing phone but thought better of it, remembering that Remy was on his way back from an impromptu and secretive trip to New Orleans to take care of, as he termed it, family business. "Xavier Institute."
"Is Professor Xavier or Emma Frost available?"
"Um...May I ask who's calling?"
"Agent Louis Stivers, Immigration and Naturalization Service."

A/N Next up, more smut, Rogue and Todd and some Kurtty goodness...

1 Some people have little or no pain and swelling, some get it bad. She got it bad.
2 I've said it before, I'll say it again. My ex-aunt told me that while she was still married to my uncle. Apparently, not a true statement.
3 Random Sherlock Holmes reference