Persistence of Memory
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
7,429
Reviews:
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Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
7,429
Reviews:
68
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
7
Persistence of Memory Chapter Seven (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIESTMAN MAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…whooo hooo! (every once in a while, you just gotta say
it) InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink
are groovy kinds of people for archiving.
J ProPhile gets muses that look like Salma
Hayek for his smutmuseness and ParkFloyd made me blush so he gets
musekibble. J Readers/Reviewers: *G * Thanks so much! The
ducks are building a tiny duck-sized temple in your honor, entirely out of
millet. (I have no idea…)
Scott was
sore all over. “Even my eyelashes hurt!” he complained to Jean.
“What?” She shut off the water and stuck her head
around the edge of the bathroom door.
“I couldn’t hear you.”
“What the
Hes ths that on your face?”
“Don’t be
stupid. It’s a mud mask. What’d you say?”
“Even my
eyelashes hurt.”
“There’s no
way your eyelashes…oh. Exaggerating to
prove a point. Got it.” She ducked back
into the bathroom and turned the water back on.
Scott
sighed and fell back against the pillows, wondering for the hundredth time
since they moved in together if he looked like as big a dork as he felt in his
goggles at night. “Jean?”
“Just a
sec…” She appeared in the doorway to
the bathroom, patting absently at her damp face with a hand towel. “What’s up?”
Choosing to
forgo innuendo, he got right to the point.
“We need to figure out some sort of schedule for the new kids. Something else, I mean. Can’t we farm out some of the training
sessions to Forge or something?”
“He’s got
the shop classes. Besides, you go
easier on the kids than Logan does.
He’s not allowed near the young ones until they get over their fear of
the Danger Room.” She sat down on the edge
of the bed and, with a glance towards the light switch, plunged the room into
semi-darkness. “How bad was the first
day?”
“Well…aside
from that Leech kid canceling Remy’s powers on accident when he was trying to
impress some of the finer points of Institute policy on the first years, it
sucked.” He stretched out along side
her, waiting for her to settle in before scooting any closer. He had learned the hard way that it took
Jean several minutes to really get comfortable—he had a chipped tooth and she a
scar on the crown of her head to show for it.
“I have no idea what to do.”
“Wing it,”
she said blithely. “You’re not teaching
an academic course so there’s less pressure.
You’re getting them used to some of the finer points of the equipment
here…nothing major.”
He bit back
a pithy comment. “It’s just a pain
trying to keep up with the basics class and the maintenance around here,
too. Ever since Logan got that damned
motorcycle…”
Jean
giggled. “He babies that thing. I’m surprised he lets you near it.”
“He watched
me like a hawk the whole time I washed it today. He even re-washed it, just to make sure I’d done it right!” Scott absently draped a leg over Jean’s hip.
“This is so surreal.”
“His
motorcycle fetish?”
“Being a
grown up.”
“If it makes
you feel better, I have cartoon characters on my night shirt.”
“Oh, that’s
much better. I feel childish already.”
“Scott!”
Jean tried to skitter away as Scott’s fingers skated over her bare arms,
seeking ticklish spots within easy reach.
“Be nice!”
“I am,” he
said plaintively. “Or I’m trying to
be!” As she turned in his arms, he
managed to push the hem of her nightshirt up over her hips.
“I have to
be up at five to get to class by seven, you know.” She sighed blissfully as he began kng tng the line of her throat,
his hand roaming ever further under her shirt, stroking her smooth, pale skin
almost reverently. As his fingers moved
closer to her quickening heat, both of them growing loose limbed with desire,
the phone rang. Loudly. Irritatingly.
“Move your
head,” he growled. “I’m going to blast the damned thing.”
“Scott, it
might be an emergency,” she said soothingly, hiding her annoyance as best she
could. “Hello?”
“Tell them
I’m giving them a ten second head start.”
“Scott,
hush. It’s Banshee.” Jean listened for
a moment, frowning. The light came on
seemingly of it’s own volition and Scott could see the expression on her face
shift from annoyed to incredulous to concerned. “Okay. We’ll be there in
ten minutes.”
He waited
until she hung up the phone and was tossing him clothes before asking, “And
just where are we going to be in ten minutes?”
“The
hangar. We need to go pick someone up.”
“In the
jet?” He slid out of bed and bid a
regretful farewell to a good night’s sleep.
“Who?”
“Some
girl. Banshee wouldn’t say who or how
he knew, just that we needed to go now.
I think she might be in some sort of trouble.”
“Gee, ya
think Sherlock?”
“Don’t make me smite you.”
Scott stuck
his tongue out at her back as she headed downstairs.
“I saw
that!”
Being
married to a telepathic telekinetic sucks sometimes.
“I heard
that!”
“And just
where do you think you’re going?”
“Kurt!” Kitty clutched at her heart. “Don’t scare me!” She swatted at his arm ineffectually. “It’s not nice to sneak up on your girlfriend in the dark!”
“Some of
our better evenings start that way, Schatz,” he purred, stepping into view. “Why are we skulking around the third flood?”
“We aren’t. I am.”
She drew herself up straight and tried to look self-righteous. “You’re going back to bed and I’ll be down
there sooner or later.”
“Sooner or
later?” he asked, raising a brow. “Katzchen,
if you’re going to get in trouble, I’m not going to let you do it by
yourself. You can’t talk your way out
of things like I can.”
“Hmph.”
“You know I’m
right,” he said, advancing slowly, making Kitty back against the wall outside
the Professor’s study. She rested her
hands against his chest when he was close enough, not pushing him away but not
quite embracing him either. “You know,
sometimes I think you might need a hobby.”
“Why do you
say that?” she asked, not really insulted.
She had a hard time being indignant when she really wanted to kiss
him.
“You’re
turning into Velma from Scooby Doo.”
“Velma?” She did push him away then, fisting her
hands on her hips. “Velma? She’s the dorky one!”
“But she’s
the smart one,” Kurt pointed out, stepping towards her again. “And she wears those glasses.”
“You like
glasses?” she asked, remembering the pair in her drawer, forsaken in favor of
the contacts she now wore.
“Mmmm.” He ducked his head to nuzzle her
throat. “I’d like you in anything,
Liebes.”
Kitty
sighed and leaned against the wall again, Kurt’s teeth scraping her throat just
enough to send frissons of pleasure down her spine. Fighting the temptation he was offering, she said softly, “Give
me ten minutes.”
Groaning
under his breath, he rested his forehead against her shoulder. “Why?”
“You were
trying to divert me, weren’t you?” she asked, a flash of understanding lighting
her brain. “That’s not nice!”
“It’s
plenty nice of me to try and keep you from getting in so much trouble you’ll
never get out! Kitty, this is the
Professor’s private study! It’d
be like…like…”
“Spying? Snooping?
Being nosy?” As she spoke, she
sidestepped him and turned to face him.
“Kurt, all I need is ten minutes.
I just want to see what the Professor was doing before the
incident. It might have some bearing on
things.”
“How would playing solitaire
on the computer have anything to do with him passing out and into a coma?” he
demanded.
Kitty
snorted. “I doubt he was playing
solitaire! There wasn’t one game on
that computer when I was in there…” she cut herself off with a guilty gulp.
Kurt
narrowed his eyes, twin golden slits in the dark hallway. “When were you up here?”
“Never?”
She batted her eyelashes prettily, knowing he could see her. “Kurt, come on! Ten minutes!”
He was torn
between a sense of duty to the Professor and his sense of adventure mingling
with the disturbing tendency to do anything Kitty asked of him. The latter won out, not to his
surprise. “Ten minutes. And I’m coming in with you!” He ported ahead of her, waiting just inside
the door as she phased in. “We could
make a killing as burglars if we ever get tired of having morals, you know.”
“Don’t
think I haven’t heard that before,” she groused.[1] She headed right to the computer and began
the process of getting into the system as Kurt perched on the windowsill,
watching. “You might want to move. If Logan’s taking a late night walk, he’ll
see you up there.”
Kurt
silently slid down from the window, feeling a little chagrinned at missing so
obvious a point, and began pacing around the room. “What’re you looking for, exactly?”
“Not sure
yet,” she murmured. “Files or
something.”
“Liebes,
remind me to cut off your supply of conspiracy theory magazines, okay?”
“They’re
Bobby’s,” she reminded him. “I just
steal them when he’s done…Oh!”
He was by
her side in an instant. “What is it?”
“I don’t
speak enough German…can you read this?”
“Ja,” he
said patiently, not able to resist teasing her a little.
She sighed.
“Kurt, please read this and tell me what it says.”
He scanned
the missive and frowned. “Eric.”
“Huh?”
“Eric…Magneto!” He grasped her wrist tightly. “Kitty, this is a letter from Magneto…”
“Magneto
has email?” she asked, considering the image of the man setting up a Yahoo
profile. Interests: Being a bastard
and genocide. “That’s…weird.”
“It’s not
an email,” he said distractedly. “It’s
scanned in.”
“Why would
he do that?” She leaned over his
shoulder and peered at the screen.
“Maybe he
wanted to make sure he had a copy in case something happened to the original?”
Kurt shrugged, pausing as he felt Kitty’s breast slide against his back. Gathering his wits again, he began
translating the letter. “It starts off
like nothing…hi, how are you, all that, but…”
“Shhh!” She elbowed him gently in the ribs. “I heard something!”
Kurt fell silent, straining
his ears. All he could hear was Kitty
breathing softly next to him for several moments, then a rustling sound. “We’re on the third floor…what the Hell
could that be?”
“Your
friendly neighborhood Spider Man?[2]”
Kitty whispered. “Just so you know, if
he looks anything like Tobey Maguire, I’m not respone foe for my actions.”
“Shhh!”
Kurt hissed, though he smirked. “I doubt it’s a wall crawler.” He pointed towards the opposite window, the
Professor’s study being situated in a corner of the mansion, and they watched
as a shadow moved across the glass.
“Remy?” she
suggested. “Or Jubes?”
“They could
make it up here, but why would they?”
The shadow passed again and Kurt motioned for her to stay behind the
desk as he vaulted silently over it, blending into the darkness of the room as
he padded to the window. Kitty shut off
the computer hastily, wincing at the beeping noise it made, and crept around
the desk to follow Kurt. The shadow
paused now, just to one side of the window, barely visible. There was a scuffing noise as whoever—or whatever—it
was tried to push the window open from the outside. Kurt crouched beside the aperture, waiting, but Kitty had a
better idea. Quickly, so as not to
loose her courage, she strode to the window, stuck her arm through and grabbed
hold of som’s a’s arm. Pulling hard,
she managed to get them halfway into the room before they let out a shout and
twisted from her grasp. She was left
with a handful of material as whoever it was plunged to the ground. Kurt was gone in a blink; Kitty, her heart
racing, peered out of the window to see him in the bushes below, looking for
some sign of their intruder. He came
back with a distinct frown. “Nothing.”
“Not so
sure about that.” she said, slightly breathless. She held up the fabric in her hand, the moonlight catching the
silvery color. “I think this is plenty.”
[1] Random
throwback to the first movie when Kelly is going on about “a little girl in
Illinois who can walk through walls.”
[2] Couldn’t
resist
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIESTMAN MAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…whooo hooo! (every once in a while, you just gotta say
it) InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink
are groovy kinds of people for archiving.
J ProPhile gets muses that look like Salma
Hayek for his smutmuseness and ParkFloyd made me blush so he gets
musekibble. J Readers/Reviewers: *G * Thanks so much! The
ducks are building a tiny duck-sized temple in your honor, entirely out of
millet. (I have no idea…)
Scott was
sore all over. “Even my eyelashes hurt!” he complained to Jean.
“What?” She shut off the water and stuck her head
around the edge of the bathroom door.
“I couldn’t hear you.”
“What the
Hes ths that on your face?”
“Don’t be
stupid. It’s a mud mask. What’d you say?”
“Even my
eyelashes hurt.”
“There’s no
way your eyelashes…oh. Exaggerating to
prove a point. Got it.” She ducked back
into the bathroom and turned the water back on.
Scott
sighed and fell back against the pillows, wondering for the hundredth time
since they moved in together if he looked like as big a dork as he felt in his
goggles at night. “Jean?”
“Just a
sec…” She appeared in the doorway to
the bathroom, patting absently at her damp face with a hand towel. “What’s up?”
Choosing to
forgo innuendo, he got right to the point.
“We need to figure out some sort of schedule for the new kids. Something else, I mean. Can’t we farm out some of the training
sessions to Forge or something?”
“He’s got
the shop classes. Besides, you go
easier on the kids than Logan does.
He’s not allowed near the young ones until they get over their fear of
the Danger Room.” She sat down on the edge
of the bed and, with a glance towards the light switch, plunged the room into
semi-darkness. “How bad was the first
day?”
“Well…aside
from that Leech kid canceling Remy’s powers on accident when he was trying to
impress some of the finer points of Institute policy on the first years, it
sucked.” He stretched out along side
her, waiting for her to settle in before scooting any closer. He had learned the hard way that it took
Jean several minutes to really get comfortable—he had a chipped tooth and she a
scar on the crown of her head to show for it.
“I have no idea what to do.”
“Wing it,”
she said blithely. “You’re not teaching
an academic course so there’s less pressure.
You’re getting them used to some of the finer points of the equipment
here…nothing major.”
He bit back
a pithy comment. “It’s just a pain
trying to keep up with the basics class and the maintenance around here,
too. Ever since Logan got that damned
motorcycle…”
Jean
giggled. “He babies that thing. I’m surprised he lets you near it.”
“He watched
me like a hawk the whole time I washed it today. He even re-washed it, just to make sure I’d done it right!” Scott absently draped a leg over Jean’s hip.
“This is so surreal.”
“His
motorcycle fetish?”
“Being a
grown up.”
“If it makes
you feel better, I have cartoon characters on my night shirt.”
“Oh, that’s
much better. I feel childish already.”
“Scott!”
Jean tried to skitter away as Scott’s fingers skated over her bare arms,
seeking ticklish spots within easy reach.
“Be nice!”
“I am,” he
said plaintively. “Or I’m trying to
be!” As she turned in his arms, he
managed to push the hem of her nightshirt up over her hips.
“I have to
be up at five to get to class by seven, you know.” She sighed blissfully as he began kng tng the line of her throat,
his hand roaming ever further under her shirt, stroking her smooth, pale skin
almost reverently. As his fingers moved
closer to her quickening heat, both of them growing loose limbed with desire,
the phone rang. Loudly. Irritatingly.
“Move your
head,” he growled. “I’m going to blast the damned thing.”
“Scott, it
might be an emergency,” she said soothingly, hiding her annoyance as best she
could. “Hello?”
“Tell them
I’m giving them a ten second head start.”
“Scott,
hush. It’s Banshee.” Jean listened for
a moment, frowning. The light came on
seemingly of it’s own volition and Scott could see the expression on her face
shift from annoyed to incredulous to concerned. “Okay. We’ll be there in
ten minutes.”
He waited
until she hung up the phone and was tossing him clothes before asking, “And
just where are we going to be in ten minutes?”
“The
hangar. We need to go pick someone up.”
“In the
jet?” He slid out of bed and bid a
regretful farewell to a good night’s sleep.
“Who?”
“Some
girl. Banshee wouldn’t say who or how
he knew, just that we needed to go now.
I think she might be in some sort of trouble.”
“Gee, ya
think Sherlock?”
“Don’t make me smite you.”
Scott stuck
his tongue out at her back as she headed downstairs.
“I saw
that!”
Being
married to a telepathic telekinetic sucks sometimes.
“I heard
that!”
“And just
where do you think you’re going?”
“Kurt!” Kitty clutched at her heart. “Don’t scare me!” She swatted at his arm ineffectually. “It’s not nice to sneak up on your girlfriend in the dark!”
“Some of
our better evenings start that way, Schatz,” he purred, stepping into view. “Why are we skulking around the third flood?”
“We aren’t. I am.”
She drew herself up straight and tried to look self-righteous. “You’re going back to bed and I’ll be down
there sooner or later.”
“Sooner or
later?” he asked, raising a brow. “Katzchen,
if you’re going to get in trouble, I’m not going to let you do it by
yourself. You can’t talk your way out
of things like I can.”
“Hmph.”
“You know I’m
right,” he said, advancing slowly, making Kitty back against the wall outside
the Professor’s study. She rested her
hands against his chest when he was close enough, not pushing him away but not
quite embracing him either. “You know,
sometimes I think you might need a hobby.”
“Why do you
say that?” she asked, not really insulted.
She had a hard time being indignant when she really wanted to kiss
him.
“You’re
turning into Velma from Scooby Doo.”
“Velma?” She did push him away then, fisting her
hands on her hips. “Velma? She’s the dorky one!”
“But she’s
the smart one,” Kurt pointed out, stepping towards her again. “And she wears those glasses.”
“You like
glasses?” she asked, remembering the pair in her drawer, forsaken in favor of
the contacts she now wore.
“Mmmm.” He ducked his head to nuzzle her
throat. “I’d like you in anything,
Liebes.”
Kitty
sighed and leaned against the wall again, Kurt’s teeth scraping her throat just
enough to send frissons of pleasure down her spine. Fighting the temptation he was offering, she said softly, “Give
me ten minutes.”
Groaning
under his breath, he rested his forehead against her shoulder. “Why?”
“You were
trying to divert me, weren’t you?” she asked, a flash of understanding lighting
her brain. “That’s not nice!”
“It’s
plenty nice of me to try and keep you from getting in so much trouble you’ll
never get out! Kitty, this is the
Professor’s private study! It’d
be like…like…”
“Spying? Snooping?
Being nosy?” As she spoke, she
sidestepped him and turned to face him.
“Kurt, all I need is ten minutes.
I just want to see what the Professor was doing before the
incident. It might have some bearing on
things.”
“How would playing solitaire
on the computer have anything to do with him passing out and into a coma?” he
demanded.
Kitty
snorted. “I doubt he was playing
solitaire! There wasn’t one game on
that computer when I was in there…” she cut herself off with a guilty gulp.
Kurt
narrowed his eyes, twin golden slits in the dark hallway. “When were you up here?”
“Never?”
She batted her eyelashes prettily, knowing he could see her. “Kurt, come on! Ten minutes!”
He was torn
between a sense of duty to the Professor and his sense of adventure mingling
with the disturbing tendency to do anything Kitty asked of him. The latter won out, not to his
surprise. “Ten minutes. And I’m coming in with you!” He ported ahead of her, waiting just inside
the door as she phased in. “We could
make a killing as burglars if we ever get tired of having morals, you know.”
“Don’t
think I haven’t heard that before,” she groused.[1] She headed right to the computer and began
the process of getting into the system as Kurt perched on the windowsill,
watching. “You might want to move. If Logan’s taking a late night walk, he’ll
see you up there.”
Kurt
silently slid down from the window, feeling a little chagrinned at missing so
obvious a point, and began pacing around the room. “What’re you looking for, exactly?”
“Not sure
yet,” she murmured. “Files or
something.”
“Liebes,
remind me to cut off your supply of conspiracy theory magazines, okay?”
“They’re
Bobby’s,” she reminded him. “I just
steal them when he’s done…Oh!”
He was by
her side in an instant. “What is it?”
“I don’t
speak enough German…can you read this?”
“Ja,” he
said patiently, not able to resist teasing her a little.
She sighed.
“Kurt, please read this and tell me what it says.”
He scanned
the missive and frowned. “Eric.”
“Huh?”
“Eric…Magneto!” He grasped her wrist tightly. “Kitty, this is a letter from Magneto…”
“Magneto
has email?” she asked, considering the image of the man setting up a Yahoo
profile. Interests: Being a bastard
and genocide. “That’s…weird.”
“It’s not
an email,” he said distractedly. “It’s
scanned in.”
“Why would
he do that?” She leaned over his
shoulder and peered at the screen.
“Maybe he
wanted to make sure he had a copy in case something happened to the original?”
Kurt shrugged, pausing as he felt Kitty’s breast slide against his back. Gathering his wits again, he began
translating the letter. “It starts off
like nothing…hi, how are you, all that, but…”
“Shhh!” She elbowed him gently in the ribs. “I heard something!”
Kurt fell silent, straining
his ears. All he could hear was Kitty
breathing softly next to him for several moments, then a rustling sound. “We’re on the third floor…what the Hell
could that be?”
“Your
friendly neighborhood Spider Man?[2]”
Kitty whispered. “Just so you know, if
he looks anything like Tobey Maguire, I’m not respone foe for my actions.”
“Shhh!”
Kurt hissed, though he smirked. “I doubt it’s a wall crawler.” He pointed towards the opposite window, the
Professor’s study being situated in a corner of the mansion, and they watched
as a shadow moved across the glass.
“Remy?” she
suggested. “Or Jubes?”
“They could
make it up here, but why would they?”
The shadow passed again and Kurt motioned for her to stay behind the
desk as he vaulted silently over it, blending into the darkness of the room as
he padded to the window. Kitty shut off
the computer hastily, wincing at the beeping noise it made, and crept around
the desk to follow Kurt. The shadow
paused now, just to one side of the window, barely visible. There was a scuffing noise as whoever—or whatever—it
was tried to push the window open from the outside. Kurt crouched beside the aperture, waiting, but Kitty had a
better idea. Quickly, so as not to
loose her courage, she strode to the window, stuck her arm through and grabbed
hold of som’s a’s arm. Pulling hard,
she managed to get them halfway into the room before they let out a shout and
twisted from her grasp. She was left
with a handful of material as whoever it was plunged to the ground. Kurt was gone in a blink; Kitty, her heart
racing, peered out of the window to see him in the bushes below, looking for
some sign of their intruder. He came
back with a distinct frown. “Nothing.”
“Not so
sure about that.” she said, slightly breathless. She held up the fabric in her hand, the moonlight catching the
silvery color. “I think this is plenty.”
[1] Random
throwback to the first movie when Kelly is going on about “a little girl in
Illinois who can walk through walls.”
[2] Couldn’t
resist