Tempest in a Teapot

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: So… yeah… Morgan: *glomp * Readers/Reviewers: By popular demand, this story has been extended... J

Amara stretched and yawned, her fingers covering her open mouth as she closed her eyes. She loved almost nothing better than a good, restful sleep. The only thing she *did* like better was a good, restful sleep as the result of a nice, long session with Lance. She reached across the bed and found his back, warm from sleep and scored with red lines as a result of their play time. He was still out, she noticed, the knowledge bringing a slight smile to her lips. Rolling carefully onto her side, she traced her fingers down Lance’s back, following the lines her nails had made earlier. A tiny drop of wax still shown glossily on his skin and she scraped it off as he lay silently next to her. “Lance,” she breathed, just loud enough for him to hear. “Lance, wake up.”

He inhaled sharply, then sighed, but he did not open his eyes. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden haze in the room and seemed ultimately conducive to sleep, something Amara was tempted to concede to. But the sounds of people moving about reminded her that the day was far from over, especially given the current situation downstairs. “Lance, wake up,” she repeated.

“Don’t wanna go to school,” he muttered thickly, curling into a ball on his side. “Coach Gruber is mean.”

“Right,” Amara said slowly. “Lance, wake up.” She pinched his side hard enough to elicit a yelp from him.

“Damn it, Amara!” he snapped, scooting as far from her as he could while not leaving the bed. “That hurt!” he cried, rubbing his side.

“That was the point of the exercise,” she replied primly, slipping from her side of the bed and padding naked to the chair she had left her clothes piled on earlier. “We have things to do still…”

Lance’s gaze raked lasciviously over Amara’s nude body but he held his tongue. With a resigned sigh, he stood and retrieved his jeans from the haphazard pile of his own clothing on the floor. “You know,” he began, holding the pants in one hand and his t-shirt in the other, “I really think that…”

“BACK OFF, WEIRDO!” Rogue shouted, bursting through the door. She slammed it behind her and turned to face into the room. “Sorry, Amara but…Holy Hell, Lance! Get dressed!” she shouted, her hands going to cover her eyes. “I didn’t need to see THAT!”

Amara snorted. “Rogue, I didn’t say you could come in here.” She shrugged her sweater over her head but did not tell her friend to leave. Lance, she noticed, had dropped down behind the bed and was trying to get dressed without Rogue seeing him again.

“Mark has decided to kill me,” Rogue muttered darkly. “I feel like I’m in the world’s worst remake of that damned Holy Grail movie Kitty likes so much.”

A loud thump sounded against the door and muffled cry of “Bring out the witch!” filtered through the wood door.

“What’s he doing?” Lance asked, standing. “Is he hitting the door with a stick?”

“Fireplace poker,” Rogue replied, shoving a chair against the door. “Everyone is busy trying to get Storm out of the tree out back otherwise Mark would be distracted… STOP IT YOU FREAK!” she shouted over the now-steady thumping.

“Storm…tree?” Lance choked. “What?”

Amara leaned back to see through her window overlooking the expansive back lawn. “Oh…wow, that’s going to chafe!”

Lance hurried to the window and nearly dropped his jaw at the sight before him. “Is she…”
“Uh huh,” both girls replied.

“Is that…”

“Yep,” Rogue sighed. “ Body glitter.” There was a loud crack and she leapt away from the door. The wood was splintering under Mark’s assault, the fireplace poker making headway through the wooden door. “Damn it!”

Mark’s hand wriggled through the hole he had made in the wood and he was reaching for the doorknob when Amara shot forward. “I command you to cease!” she shouted, grabbing his wrist, her hand glowing with heat.

Mark howled. “WITCH!” He twisted nearly frantically in Amara’s grasp, pulling against her slight weight to free himself, which he did with a resounding thud against the hall floor.

Lance, barely able to tear his eyes away from the scene outside the window, glanced over at Rogue. “Where’s Todd? Shouldn’t he be defending your honor or something?”

“You mean Princess Toddina?” Rogue snapped, peering out through the hole in the door. “He’s waiting for his Prince to come.”

“Uh-oh,” Amara muttered, watching Mark rise from the floor. “This can’t be good.”

“Come ON, Ro,” Logan pleaded, sorely tempted to get out the chainsaw and start cutting down the damned tree. “Let’s go inside!”

“No,” she called, standing proudly on one of the higher branches of the oak, “this is my home!”

“Damn it all,” Logan muttered, aware of the small crowd gathered around him, looking up at the naked woman in the branches. “Storm, listen to me…”

“I’ve brought forth the vile witches!” Mark’s voice carried over the lawn. “Ready the gallows!”

Logan glanced sideways at Bobby, standing beside him with a look of shock and amusement. “Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Bobby replied, “not even a little.”

A/N What has Kitty found?