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Ten Minutes

By: Nemain
folder X-Men - Animated Series (all) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 5
Views: 2,287
Reviews: 0
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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.
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Ten Minutes

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Ten minutes (NC-17)

Disclaimers: I own nothing. X Men and associated properties
belong to Marvel and their lawyers and corporations.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Any trademarked or copyrighted character or
image I mention I will footnote if I can.
If you recognize it, I don’t own it.
I make no profit from this work of fan fiction.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>

 

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *collapses* Made
it! InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and
Dracena are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Jstyle='mso-spacerun:yes'> ProPhile: *big gold star *style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Morgan: *GLOMP *style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Readers/Reviewers: This is just a short class=SpellE>mise en scene between two bigger stories. Between Blueshift
and the next, you’d figure the characters need to relax, neh?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> So this is smutty in bits and does contain
some dirty words. Consider yourself
warned.

 

 

 

“Hand me
the paper, please.” The bed sheets
rustled as he tried to get more comfortable against the sleep-warm pillows.

“Which
section? Sports or
comics?”

“Surprise
me.”

“Surprise
you?”

“HEY! No
tickling before lunch! You’ll ruin the scowl I have goin’.”

“Hmmm…
you’ve got a bit of egg on your chin… Here, let me get it.”

“Gone?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> How much time do we have before the Danger
Room session from Hell?

“About ten
minutes.”

Lance
folded the comics section in half lengthwise, pausing to read class=SpellE>Ziggy as Amara cut her toast into neat slices, lining them
up next to the egg on her plate. “Why do
you do that?” he asked after a moment.
“Just bite into it.”

“I like
order,” she replied, making sure the egg was positioned just right, the yellow
yolk in the center of the white plate.
She poked the apple slices around on the plate for a moment, class=GramE>then smiled.
“There. A
Cyclops.”

Lance
raised his brows and looked at her plate. Amara, Princess of Nova Roma, Magma
when she wanted to be, ice princess to most, had arranged her food into a
one-eyed smiley face on her plate. “You,” he said after a long pause, “are
weird.”

“Mmm… but
I’m pretty so that’s okay,” she replied, popping a slice of apple into her
mouth. “The Universe works like that.”

Lance
snorted. “Really?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> That explains a lot.”style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He leaned over and kissed her then, soundly
on the cheek. He smiled as she giggled
around her mouthful of fruit. “I’m glad
I stayed,” he said quietly, in all seriousness.

She
swallowed, then dabbed at her lips with the corner of her napkin.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “So am I.
Hand me the Metro section please.”

He knew
when a subject was being dismissed and this was one of those times. He folded
the Metro section neatly down the middle and handed it to her, saying “I didn’t
think you were that interested in the goings on of Bayville.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Keeping up with the city council elections
are you?”

“No… But
because you mentioned City Council I feel the need to mention that Principal
Kelly won his second term in the city.”
She frowned, narrowing her eyes. “He’s a jerk.”

Lance
nodded in agreement, pushing the sheets off and standing, wincing as his feet
touched the cold floor. “Least he’s not
at Bayville High anymore. Even if I’m
not going there, I got friends who do, ya know?”

“How is
Fred anyway?” Amara asked idly, nibbling a toast soldier as she scanned the
Metro section further, trying to find something of interest.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She did not notice the crumbs that fell to
the white sheet pulled over her lap.

“Dunno…”style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He yawned widely, untying his pajama bottoms
and letting them fall, puddling at his feet.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “Last I saw of him was the other day, just class=SpellE>standin’ there and starin’ at us,
remember?”

Amara
slowly put the paper down and looked up at Lance. “I am not going to speak of
that.”

He sighed
loudly. “Princess, I’m not even
mentioning Mars…” He reached for his
jeans, abandoned at the foot of the bed, feeling her gaze on his back, wincing
as he imagined the marks he’d have later.

“I am not
going to speak of that,” she repeated. She sniffed haughtily, her Princess Mask
coming over once more. “We only have
five minutes and I need to get dressed.”

Lance moved
to the side of the bed and helped pull the covers back, offering his hand as
she stood. She smiled at him sweetly and
padded over to her Rococco dresser, an ornate piece
that Lance hated but she seemed to love.
Wordlessly, he took up her hairbrush as she sat down and began pulling
it gently through her long, dark strands.
“We’re scheduled to be in the session with Bobby and Toad,” he said,
seeking to break the now-tense silence.

“I
know. I plan on getting Todd back for
the slime incident last night.” She
looked up at him in the mirror and, her face almost neutral, said, “I’ll take
the dishes down.”

Lance
nodded, murmuring his thanks. Amara was trying
to apologize for snapping and that was the most she could muster.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Saying “I’m sorry” was hard enough for her
and he had learned to accept her gestures in lieu of the actual words.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “I’m gonna go with him and Rogue to visit class=SpellE>Jono in Boston
next weekend. Um…do you class=SpellE>wanna come with?” He
found a snarl in her hair and began carefully working it loose, trying not to
cause her pain.

Amara
pursed her lips and seemed to consider it deeply.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “Yes.
I have never really seen Boston.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> It might be educational.” style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She reached for the stone jar of face powder
on her dresser, really generic stuff dumped into a fancy container, and
carefully began applying it as Lance brushed her hair.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She patted some of the translucent substance
on her nose, frowning when it made her too pale.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “I also think that you should start giving me
lessons.”

Lance
paused. “Lessons?”
His mind lit on a thousand things he could teach her, most of them
variations on a theme but all of them enjoyable and more than likely
noisy. “Um… on what?”

“I don’t
understand so many things,” she sighed, closing the jar of powder and gently
taking the brush from his hands. “I have
been here for several years now and there is still so much I do not understand.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I don’t want to be…” she bit her lip and
sighed inwardly. “I don’t want to be the
different one anymore.”

“At the
risk of bein’ Mister Rogers…we’re all different you
know. If we were all the same, class=SpellE>life’d really suck ass.”

She raised
a brow eloquently. “That’s…interesting
turn of phrase there.” She stood,
unbuttoning her nightdress quickly.
“Take the breakfast dishes down, would you?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I need to get dressed.”

Lance
opened his mouth to remind her of her offer but thought better of it.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “Sure, baby.
See you downstairs.”

 

A/N Next…SMUT!

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