Part One: The Mirror Crack'd

When Ororo entered the recreation room, she cringed at seeing Jean and Scott playfully laughing and pinching each another on the couch. The couple was usually quiet in their affections for one another, and seeing such a display brought a hot rush to Ororo's cheeks. She quietly spun on her heel and was halfway to the door when Jean saw her.

"Hold on, 'Ro! Wait--!" The redhead jumped from Scott's side as if poked with a cattle prod and waved a small box in the air. Her face was flushed pink from laughing too hard as she pressed the box into Ororo's curious hands. "Omigod, 'Ro," she said. "You absolutely have to see this movie we rented."

"Is it that funny?"

"It's not funny at all," Scott shot over his shoulder. "Lots of overdone action, too many implausible scenes, and c'mon, Travolta? He's gotta be the most overrated--"

"Ignore Mr. Skeptic," Jean interrupted. "I loved the movie. And I bet you will, too."

The bright look on Jean's face, like some kind of crazed zealot intent on converting the world to a strange cult, sent a chill down Ororo's spine. She stared at the slim case with more than a little skepticism and looked to Scott for support, but he wore an equally puzzling smirk. It scared her. It looked as if the two of them had been conspiring against her.

"You'll like this movie, 'Ro," Jean pressed. "Trust me."

"I usually am not a big fan of action movies,  Jean," Ororo said slowly. She turned the cover over and read the title: "Swordfish". What an odd name. She started handing the case back to Jean, but Jean refused to take it. "We live the action films, after all. Why must I see Hollywood imitate what we do naturally?"

Scott cleared his throat. "Don't mind her, 'Ro. We have a bet going." He stared at his fiancée somewhat imperiously. "And I think she's dead wrong."

"Smart-aleck," Jean said. She pushed the case back in Ororo's hands. "I see a strong resemblance. Go ahead, 'Ro. See the movie. See if I'm right."

"He looks it more than she does," Scott muttered. "And you can't force 'Ro to choose. That's part of the bet."

"You're just afraid of being wrong. Besides it's 'Ro all over--absolutely her. The other guy? Not so much. He is cute, though."

Scott snorted. "Figures."

Ororo finally sighed, exasperated. "What are you two talking about? What am I supposed to choose?"

Again, Jean giggled, and it took every ounce of power Ororo had to not to shake the woman. "Can't tell you. But, to make it fair," she glared at Scott, "we're going to go shopping for a few hours and let you watch it in peace."

"Oh, joy. Shopping."

"At the electronics' store," she amended, and Scott beamed through their mindlink. "You just make sure you watch that movie, Ororo. I want a full report when I return."

Ororo grimaced. "You're sounding more and more like Scott everyday."

"Hey!"

She smiled at their twin outbursts, believing they both deserved it for not being honest with her. "You really want me to see this movie that badly?"

"Yep," Jean said. "And Logan, but that's mostly for Scott's benefit. He thinks it'll help him win our bet."

Scott got up from the couch and wrapped an arm around his fiancée's shoulder. "You know how Jean is, 'Ro. Once she has an idea in her head she's like a pit bull with a bone."

Scott's lips covered Jean's retort, which brought a small smile to Ororo's face. Well, in the interest of science, she supposed she could help them out, but she had one card left to play.

"When does this movie need to go back to the video store? I could see it later in the week, and--"

Jean held up her hand. "Nothing doing. We'd take it back, you'd conveniently 'forget,'  and no one would win. It's now or never, and never's not an option."

She had the sinking feeling that Jean was going to get her way no matter what, when Logan conveniently tromped into the room carrying a six pack of beer and a bowl of popcorn. He went to the television, propped his feet on the coffee table, and proceeded to stab the remote for a boring, marathonic sports event.

A small, victorious grin pinked Ororo's lips. "Ah. But Logan has the television, now, and it is the only room in the house where I could view the DVD. Sorry," she said, handing the movie back to Jean. She shoved Jean's shoulder a bit, hoping both she and Scott would leave before either thought about moving the DVD player to another television set. 

But a cold lump formed in the pit of Ororo's stomach when Jean started smiling that zealot's grin.  "Logan?"

The man grunted and stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. "Yeah? What?"

"You watching anything interesting on TV right now?"

"Nope. Just wastin' time  'til the fight starts. Crap's on until then."

Jean focused on Ororo as her grin widened. "How'd you like to see a movie with 'Ro?"

He shrugged. "Sure, I guess. As long as it's over before the fight."

Ororo groaned as Jean ran the disc to the DVD player. "It's called 'Swordfish', and you have to tell me if one of the characters looks familiar to you."

"Jean," Scott warned. "Two can play at that game. 'Ro, do the same for me."

"But what am I looking for? You two are impossible!"

"You'll see," Jean said. She dragged Scott out of the room and gestured between the player and Ororo. "Hurry up, sit down! It's starting!"

Ororo made a strangled noise in the back of her throat and stared at the empty spot next to Logan.

"C'mon, darlin'," he muttered, patting the cushion. He smiled at her, but it looked like a feral snarl. "Might as well get it over with. Popcorn?"

"Why not." She resigned herself to the couch and grabbed a fistful of popcorn, hoping that this wouldn't become three of the most wasted hours of her life.

 *     *     *

Snicker.

Logan shifted on the couch, trying to understand 'Ro's small smiles during the first ten minutes of the movie. The Travolta dialogue was pretty decent--at least the movie wasn't some screwed up romance--and that whole scene with the camera tricks and the explosion was enough to keep him hooked. But he didn't get what 'Ro thought was so funny about it. Geez, he sure hoped she wasn't laughing 'cause that chick went boom. He didn't think she'd be that cold.

When 'Ro stifled another giggle behind her hand, he couldn't take it anymore. "What? What the hell's so funny?"

Ororo rested her forefinger above her lip as if preventing a sneeze, but Logan knew she was really trying to hold back her laughter. "Goddess, Logan. I see what Jean meant."

"Huh? What're you talking about?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown an extra arm. "You don't see it--? You really don't, do you?"

He growled at her. "I ain't in the mood for games, 'Ro."

"Look at the main character, Logan." She hit the pause button on the remote and raised an eyebrow. "Now. Who does he look like?"

Logan ran a hand through his thick hair and made a face. "I dunno--that guy off that movie, 'Pulp Fiction'?"

"No, not him. The other one."

"What, the geeky punk with the spiky hair?" Ororo nodded and bit her bottom lip. Logan got frustrated at the amusement in her eyes. "He's a nerd. Whose he supposed ta look like, One-Eye?"

Ororo shook her head as her body trembled with laughter. "Try you."

"What?" Logan sprang from the couch and squinted at the TV screen. He got so close that his nose skimmed the monitor, and he pointed an accusatory finger at the character. "No way! I don't look anything like the guy."

"Well, he doesn't have long hair or sideburns, and he doesn't have a perpetual snarl--"

"Hah, hah. Very funny."

"--but other than that," she giggled again, "you could be his twin."

"Give it a rest, 'Ro," he grumbled, plopping back in his seat. "The day I look like that guy is the day Sabretooth comes back to life."

"Time to pencil Mr. Kittylitter on your calendar."

Logan snorted. "Just hit play, Ororo. Let's get this movie over with so Jean can win her damn bet."

"As you wish...Stanley."

"Don't call me that!"

 *     *     *       

A few minutes later, Ororo got the shock of her life when Logan--old sourpuss himself--held his sides and let out the loudest laugh she'd ever heard.

"What on earth--?"

Logan couldn't get the words out. He caught his breath, glanced at Ororo from the corner of his eye, and roared again.

"What?"

"Hell, no. This is too good. And you're blind as a bat!"

"Logan!" She stabbed the pause button again and the actress on the screen paused her golf club in mid-swing. "What are you talking about?"

"'Ro, darlin', Jean wasn't talkin' about me." He waved his hands about in a mystical way. "Voila. Watch, and be amazed."

Logan approached the television and outlined the paused actress' head with his pinky, explaining his discovery like a college lecturer. "Imagine this babe with white hair, say, down to her shoulders. Then give 'er a little queenie attitude...and a lightning grip..." A grin split his face as he stood, victorious. He grabbed a beer, tossed it 360 degrees in the air, and caught it in the same hand. "I'd say she's a dead ringer for ya, 'Ro."

Ororo scrambled to the television, horrified. "That wanton tart? You think she looks like me?"

"Yep," Logan said, falling back into the couch. His feral grin widened as he sucked half his beer in one gulp. "And whatever she's wantin', I'm wantin', too."

"Logan!"

"Can't blame her for bein' cute. And hot. You got anything like that in yer closet, 'Ro--? Wanna go down ta 'Fredericks' after the movie?"

"Honestly!" She was angry enough to leave the room, but she would not give him the satisfaction of besting her. "All right, fine. You don't look like Stanley, and I," she wrinkled her nose, "I do not look like her."

"Whatever ya say, 'Ro," Logan said, finishing his beer. "But you gotta admit, she's hot. I'd take it as a compliment."

She stuck her hands on her hips. "Well, would you take it as a compliment if I said I thought Stanley had delicious abs and a delectable waist?"

Logan's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. You think I've got delicious abs?"

Ororo almost screamed. "Not you! Stanley!"

"But if you think I look like Stanley--"

"Aaargh--!"

Ororo did stomp off this time, and Logan stopped laughing long enough to pop another beer and grab the remote. 'Ro was in one holy hell of a mood now, and the banging pots and pans in the kitchen testified to it, but he couldn't resist tossing a final insult over his shoulder. "Can't run with the big dogs, can ya, 'Ro? Think about that next time ya try teasin' me. Or at least have the decency ta wear fewer clothes."

Thunder echoed through the halls.

Logan snipped his beer, chuckling. "And that, my friend, is how ya tame a goddess."

Part Two: Mirror, Mirror

Rogue winced, hearing the thwap-bam-shnnnick of a large knife slamming into a hapless vegetable. She figured the best thing to do was avoid the kitchen at all costs, since the knife-wielder sounded like they believed vegetables weren't the only thing worth turning into hash.

WHAP.

She made a face, and hurried into the recreation room where, fortunately, the TV was on loud enough to mute the kitchen sound. She grinned when she saw Logan's form comfortably scrunched in the couch and plopped down beside him.

"Hey, Logan."

"Hey, kid." Logan turned half-way in his seat and hit 'pause' on the remote. "What's up?"

Rogue sighed and tugged at her gloves. "Nothin'. Bored, I guess. Jubes, Kitty, an' Bobby're at the mall, John's outta town visitin' his parents...y'know. Same ol' borin' Saturday."

"So?" Logan put a cigar in his mouth, and Rogue promptly plucked it from his lips. He made a face. "It ain't much, but after this movie you c'n watch the fights with me."

"Yuck! I'd rather be at the mall."

He chuckled, just when a loud SHHWACK cut through the sound of the television set.

"Whew, someone's mad," Rogue whispered, nibbling her lip. "Who's in the kitchen, anyway?"

"That'd be our resident weather goddess," Logan said, smirking. "She's got a temper on 'er, all right."

KWHAM.

Rogue's eyes went wide. "Ms. Munroe?! Gawd, Logan, she never gets mad. Someone musta pushed her buttons big time."

"Heh, heh." Logan grabbed the cigar from Rogue's hands and laid it between his lips. He slipped his hands beneath his head and snuggled back into the couch. "Yep, an' yer lookin' at the king of elevator operators."

"Geez, Logan, you gotta death wish? What'd the heck you do, anyway?"

"Nothin' big." He shrugged and gestured with the remote to paused actors in a police station. "Scott an' Jean made us see this stupid movie, and we got into a fight about it. I thought she looked like one of the characters, and she thought I looked like one of 'em. I riled 'er about it, and she got mad."

"Really?" Rogue rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "You two made a movie, huh? I'd like to see that."

Logan rolled his eyes. "It's not us, okay--? Well...Nah, I take it back. It's Ororo, that's for sure. Jean's right about that. This chick looks just like her."

"Ooh, lemme see! I gotta see that for myself."

"Fine," Logan sighed and handed the remote to Rogue. He never could say 'no' to the teen. He felt like an overindulgent father sometimes, but maybe it wasn't so bad since it kept him out of trouble. "You ever see the movie, 'Swordfish'?"

Rogue shook her head. "Nope. I ain't inta all them shoot-em-up movies."

"Good. Maybe you can win the bet for 'Ro an' me. If neither of us looks like the two characters, then One-Eye and Red c'n leave us the hell alone." He growled softly and rose from the couch.

"Where're you goin'?"

"Kitchen. Time ta pay the piper."

"You gonna calm down Ms. Munroe?"

Logan shrugged. "Calm 'er down, let 'er use me as her own personal lightning rod...whatever works."

Rogue giggled and pressed the play button. "Okay. But I hope you practiced enough in the Danger Room, 'cause in the mood she's in, she'll find a way to ground ya...but good."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered.

      *     *     *

SHHUHNK

Ororo had determined that this was a good time to make vegetable soup. No, not a good time--a great time. She sliced through another potato and plopped the mashed pieces into a boiling vat of water. She wasn't mad. How could she be mad? Just because some trollop in a mini-dress had the audacity to mimic her, and it turned Logan on...well. That was simply not a reason to get angry. So, of course she wasn't angry. She was perfectly comfortable with the movie. It was just a silly movie, after all.

She slammed back the refrigerator door and grabbed a celery stalk, raising the meat cleaver high in the air.

K-CHUNK

"Uh, 'Ro?"

KSHWHUMPH

Came back, did he? Well. How nice. "Yes, Logan."

SHNNNOOK

"You, uh...seem a li'l ticked off."

"Me? I'm not angry. Why do you think I am angry?"

SMACK/WHAP/CRUNCH

"Uh, huh. I think the celery'll disagree with ya there."

"No, really. I am perfectly at ease."

SHHHOOOM

"Right. Gotcha." Logan carefully caught her hand in mid-air, just as she was about to turn the stalk into celery frappe. There was danger in her eyes, but he was brave enough to face it. "I'm sorry I teased ya so much. C'mon. See the rest of it with me."

She let her eyebrow raise a millimeter. "You still want to finish watching that atrocious thing?"

He shrugged and leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms folded. "It ain't all that bad."

Ororo imitated his pose. "Why? Because of the girl?"

"Yeah, she's hot," he said, smirking. "An' I c'n see ya modelin' that skimpy outfit. Or, maybe it's just a decent movie."

"Oh, of course, a decent movie." Fine, Logan. Two can play this game. "Well. I wouldn't mind seeing Stan's cute little bod, either." She purposely wet her lips and stared Logan up and down like a rare steak. When he unconsciously started growling, she knew she achieved the desired effect.

She took a step closer to him. Logan froze, stuck between grabbing her and hightailing it out of the kitchen.

"'Ro?"

She inched forward and was millimeters from his face. Wary and unsure of her new advances he began backing up and hit the kitchen wall. "Yes, Logan," she said breathily. She stuck out the tip of her tongue and ran it against her teeth. "You're so much like Stan that it turns me on. It excites me. Are you excited?"

He swallowed. For the first time, she saw a little fear mixed with the lust in his eyes. He gestured to the front room. "Uh, Marie's watchin' that movie now. Maybe I should go watch it with her."

"Why?" She ran her fingers over his stomach, feeling the muscles contract. "We can have our own private show, right here."

Logan growled and grabbed her arms.

"Or maybe," Ororo sighed, peeling his fingers from her arms, "it's just a movie, and you're overreacting." She smiled prettily at him. "Now who's running with the big dogs?"

She whistled softly and ducked out from beneath his arms, leaving him stunned and furious in the kitchen.

Part Three: All Halle's Breaking Loose...

Ororo was feeling particularly smug when she entered the rec room, and didn't seem to mind that that movie was still on the television screen. She didn't care to see any more of it, but seeing Rogue glued to the program with the vacant, sapped look of an entertained teenager, she couldn't help but sneak up behind the girl.

"Well?"

Rogue squealed and jumped from her chair.

"Ms. Munroe, you scared me half to death. How long you been hoverin' over me like that?"

Ororo allowed herself a small smile. "Not long. And I do apologize, Rogue. You seemed so terribly engrossed in the movie, I couldn't resist."

"It's at a scary part. These two guys are about ta pop this computer ha--yuck!" She made a face at the screen, just as a bullet spit a character backwards. "Gross!"

"I concur," Ororo said. She wrinkled her nose just as a second character caught  three bullets to the chest. "I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't Ginger," she muttered.

"Who?"

"Ginger. She's the character who Logan believes looks like me. I don't see it."

"Well," Rogue said. She paused the movie and turned halfway in her seat, grinning at her history teacher. "I'm still waitin' for that part. You haven't shown up yet."

Ororo's eyes narrowed as she joined Rogue on the couch. "She is not me," she scolded. "That woman does not resemble me in any way, shape, or form."

Rogue looked at her like a cat with a mouse. "We'll just haveta see 'bout that, now won't we?"

"No, we won't," Ororo said primly. "It's obvious that she doesn't resemble me."

"Suuure, Ms. Munroe. Suuuure."

"On the other hand," Ororo said, changing the subject, "the Stanley character is a dead ringer for Logan."

"He said you thought he looked like one of the characters. He's just as against the idea as you are." She shook her head, imagining the idea that not one but two of her favorite adults in the world made a movie together. It made them practically famous. "Speaking of Wolvie, where the blazes did he get to?"

A ghostly smile floated across Ororo's lips. "He's probably still in the kitchen nursing his...pride."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Rogue. I'm sure he'll show in a few moments, after he calms down."

"Oh, okay," the girl said. She made a funny face and hit the play button, just as the object of their conversation entered the room.

Rogue was about to call him over, but the look he shot her convinced her that maybe he wasn't in the best of moods. Still, if it was any consolation, the look he gave Ms. Munroe was even worse.

"Feeling all right, Logan?" Ororo asked.

Logan snarled, stabbed his finger at Ororo, and opened his mouth to say something, but at the last moment he just shook his head and dropped his finger. "Never mind," he said, teeth clenched. "It ain't worth it."

"It didn't seem like that a few minutes ago."

He growled darkly, slid on the couch next to Marie, and grabbed the remote from the teen while systematically flipping channels. "Go fly in a thunderhead, goddess."

"Heyyyy--!" Marie's high-pitched squeal made him wince. "I was watchin' that, ya big bully!"

"And now ya ain't. The fight's gonna be on in a f--"

"Nothin' doin'." She slapped his fist and plucked the remote from his fingers. She rewound the DVD and paused it at the police station. "I ain't lettin' ya get outta this that easy."

"What the hell--? Marie, go watch the flamin' movie somewhere else." He glared at Ororo. "An' take Lightning Chick with ya."

The girl nervously checked her teacher's face at the Lightning Chick crack, but Ororo was surprisingly calm. In fact, she almost looked pleased about something.

"There ain't another DVD player in the house," Marie muttered. "'Sides, you an' Miz Munroe's big scenes're comin' up."

Both Logan and Ororo shouted, "it's not us!"

"Geez, okay, yah don't haveta take mah head off!" A funny look passed over her face, and suddenly the blood in the adults' veins became ice cold. They knew that look. It meant she had an idea--a bad one--and that everyone in a fifty mile radius should run for the Kentucky hills.

Rogue smiled pertly. "Well, if you two don't let me see the rest of this movie now, I'm gonna make up the rest an' tell everyone what I 'saw,' whether it's true or not...and neither of ya're gonna know what we're laughin' 'bout behind your backs."

"You wouldn't," Ororo hissed.

Logan folded his arms. "Yeah. Yeah, the little snot would."

"Great! It's settled." She patted the cushion next to her. "Sit, Ms. Munroe."

"I am not a puppy," Ororo muttered, but she settled in beside the teen. Logan made a small growling noise, but Ororo ignored him.

"All raht, you two," Rogue said, hitting 'play.' "Play nice. Don't make me get mah paddle."

"Yeah, 'Ro might like it too much," Logan muttered. He winced when Rogue twisted the skin on his arm. "Ow!"

"Behave. Ah mean it," she said, staring at Ororo's sour face. "Not one more word."

The adults grumbled and slid further in their seat, but Rogue smiled, satisfied. She finally had the last word.

                  *     *     *

"OHMAHGAWD!"

"What, what--?"

Rogue had turned crimson and the remote dropped from her fingers. Her mouth was open, in a silent scream and she doubled over, holding her sides. Logan and Ororo began shouting orders at one other and panicking and asking if she was okay, wondering if she was under some kind of physical or mental attack.

Ororo held on to Rogue's arms and barked at Logan over her shoulder. "Logan! Jean's lab! The emergency medical k--"

Rogue smacked Ororo's hands away, catching her breath, and a loud, high-pitched wheeze tumbled from her lips.  Logan finally caught the scent. She wasn't in pain. She wasn't dying. She was laughing.

"Oh, brother," he growled.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA"--gasp--"HAHAHAHAH!"

"You had us scared to death, Rogue," Ororo mumbled, sinking back into the couch. "It's not that funny."

"HAHAHAH--! IT'S Y'ALL! I CAIN'T...BREATHE...HAHAHAHAH--"

"Yeah, yeah." Logan popped a beer top and drained it. "Shut up, already. It ain't that big a deal. And that ain't me."

"Yeah, it is! It's both of ya!" Rogue started calming down and grabbed the remote. Tears were streaming down her face. "Man-o-man, wait 'til the gang sees this one. They're gonna bust!"

"No, they won't," Ororo said, grabbing the remote and snapping off the television.

Logan was about to about to agree with Ororo until he realized he was still angry with her, and he could milk this for all it was worth. "Now, hold on, 'Ro," he started. His lips curled in a slight sneer and Ororo's eyes narrowed to slits. "Like the kid said, we wouldn't want her to come up with anything new. 'Specially if Ginger's got some skimpy scene I don't know about. Wouldn't want the school to laugh 'bout yer undies, would ya, 'Ro?"

"Logan..."

He could hear the warning tone in her voice, and it fueled the fire in him. Revenge, goddess? I'm gonna serve you up a big slice of it. Right next t'yer humble pie.

"What, ya chicken, 'Ro?" He flapped his arms and screeched, "bok, bok" at the top of his lungs. "'Fraid of a little competition? 'Fraid Stanley'll make ya look bad?"

Rogue made a face and was about to interject, but the adults were on full tilt. Nothing short of Magneto or a nuclear war could've separated them now.

"Ooh...! If nothing else, you should be the one 'afraid'!" Ororo snapped the television back on angrily and stabbed the television screen with the remote. "See? Ginger's leading you like a lamb to the slaughter. She has the upper hand, not you."

"Uh, huh," Logan snarled. "Care ta make a bet on that?"

Ororo watched smugly as Ginger kissed Travolta on the lips, and stared at Stanley like a poor, pitiful lost child. "What are you squawking on about? What kind of asinine bet?"

Logan leaned over Rogue and plucked the remote from Ororo's hands to get her attention. Rogue sunk back into the back of the couch as far as possible, wishing at the moment that she had Kitty's phasing abilities.

"I mean," he growled, glaring at Ororo, "that we keep tabs on which character shows the other up the best. If Ginger shows Stanley up by the end of the film, I'll do whatever you want for a whole week. With no backtalk."

Ororo smirked evily. "Whatever I say?"

Logan feral grin widened. "As long as we ain't on any critical missions, yeah. I'll be yer personal cabana boy for a week. 'Course, if Stanley whups Ginger's little ass...Well. Same rules apply. You game, Goddess? Or are ya—'BOK, BOK'!-chicken?"

Ohh, Ororo thought, this is too good to pass up.

Logan offered his hand, and she shook it soundly. "Deal."

"Rogue," Logan said, sitting back in his seat. He took a cigar from his jacket and placed it between his lips. "You keep score."

"Uhh, okay," the teen said, unsure of the new development. "How?"

Ororo's lip quirked as a lusty blonde on the screen kissed Stanley and forced tequila down his throat. She glanced to see if either Rogue or Logan saw the scene--neither had. She stopped the DVD and ran it back thirty seconds.

"I think each moment that's most embarrassing to us personally should be rated on a point scale. Would you agree to that, Logan?"

"Fine by me," he said. "Ten-point scale. One bein' the lowest an' ten the highest. Whoever's most embarrassed by the end of the movie loses."

"You want me to rate how embarrassin' this is for the both of ya?" Rogue squeaked. "Forget it! I don't want claws or lightnin' rammed through mah sweet southern body!"

"No, Rogue," Ororo said softly. Her eyes roamed like a hunting cougar's when she glanced Logan's way. "Although one of us might argue the point scale" --Logan snorted--"you have the final say. You will be the judge, and we will abide by your decisions."

"Y'all ain't gonna fry me or claw me if I do this, are ya?"

"Nope."

"No. Of course not."

Rogue sighed, shaking her head. "All right, you want it, you got it. But you two're crazier than a Seventh-Day Adventist high on Appalachian moonshine. When d'you want me ta start keepin' tabs?"

"Right now," Ororo said, pressing play.

Part Four: Hugh've Gotta Be Kidding Me!

"Do you like tequila, Stanley?"

 "Yes, he does," Ororo muttered to the television. "And beer, and bourbon, and vodka, and whiskey and--"

 Logan gave her a nasty look, and Rogue hit his leg before he could respond. She clutched a pad of paper in her hand and a pencil, determined to keep this "game" as civil as possible before World War III broke out.

 "Hush!" She hissed. "I'm tryin' to keep this fair."

 "Betcha could do it better without 'Ro's snide little commentaries."

"Quiet, big mouth," Rogue muttered. She glared at Ororo. "An' no more comments from the peanut gallery. Get me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ororo said. "Aha!" She snatched the remote from Rogue and paused the tape. "There. Embarrassing Moment number one."

"Wha-at?" Logan made a face. "C'mon. That ain't embarrassin'. So the blonde forced liquor down the pansy's throat. Big deal."

"Oh, really?" Ororo raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying that if that happened to you in real life that it wouldn't embarrass you? That you wouldn't feel ashamed?"

"That's my idea of a date, princess." He smirked. "'Course, I guess it depends on who's doin' the pourin'. You volunteering?"

Ororo refused to answer him and turned to Rogue. "Judge?"

Rogue sighed. This was going to be harder than she thought. "Well," she said slowly, "if it was real life, I'd feel pretty dang uncomfortable."

"I say it's worth four points," Ororo said smugly.

"Four?" Logan sputtered. "It's not even a one!  It ain't even close!"

"Hah," Ororo said, crossing her arms. She hit play on the remote. "I saw your face. You were blushing."

"You wish."

"Now, now," Rogue said. She held up a gloved hand. "I think Wolvie's right. There's no way it's a four."

"Hah."

"But," she continued, "I can't say this ain't an embarrassin' moment. Two points."

Logan huffed uncomfortably and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Figures you'd be soft on 'Ro."

"An' what's that supposed ta mean?"

"Nothin'. Women are like that, that's all. They embarrass easy. Not like men."

Ororo snorted and turned up the sound on the television, but Wolverine kept talking and stuck a cigar in his mouth. " 'Ooh, he's got his shirt off, ooh, he's wearin' boxers! Ooh, he winked at me!' Gimme a break. Women are just plain skittish about that crap. They're always goin' on and blushin' about every flamin' th...about..." He gulped at the new scene on the television. The new cigar tumbled from his lips. "Oh, *shit*."

"Hey," Rogue's jaw dropped a little.  "Is she...Oh, mah Lord--!"

Rogue eyes went wide as she hid her crimson face behind her gloves, but a giggle escaped from her lips. Ororo was speechless. The weather witch had a hand over her mouth and choked back a stunned, nervous laugh. No one in the room moved or stopped the tape because  the blonde woman who had previously offered Stanley tequila now had her head in Stanley's lap, performing her rather talented...services.

"Ten!" Ororo screeched. Her laughter was evident now, and small flakes of snow fell from the sky, echoing her mood. "That is a ten-point embarrassing moment!"

Ororo wouldn't stop laughing. Grunting, Logan adjusted his pants and rested his arms on his knees, deciding that the coffee table was far more interesting right now than the movie. He kept praying to all the gods in Hollywood that the scene would just hurry up and end, so he could get his dignity back. "Seven," he muttered to the floor. He winced when Stanley let out a particularly loud moan.

"Oh, she's good, isn't she?" The television asked.

"It's ten, and you know it, Logan!" The snow outside became a mini blizzard.

"Is it over yet?" Rogue asked, peeking between her gloves.

"No!" Logan barked. "Keep yer damn eyes closed!"

Logan lunged for the remote in Ororo's hands, but she snatched her hand away. "Ohhh, no.  I am going to enjoy this."

He stopped in mid-growl, realizing what she said. His snarl turned into a dark smirk. "So I was right--you do like the kinky stuff."

"How dare you! I--"

Ororo's retaliation stopped in her throat when a door slam and the sound of multiple packages echoed in the foyer. "Luuucy, I'm hoooome," Bobby crooned.

"Was that supposed to be funny, Popsicle?"

"Yep. Even funnier than your new haircut, Jubes."

"You are so dead."

"Figures," Wolverine muttered, grabbing the remote and turning off the television. "Insult to injury."

"We're in here, Bobby," Rogue piped. 

Logan gave her a look that would've killed Sabretooth on the spot.  "All I need is one more weather psycho givin' me grief." He glanced at Ororo who was still pretending not to laugh.

Bobby came in, shaking his head, and dumped snow onto the hallway carpet. "Man, can you believe it out there? It's honest to God snowing!"

"Yeah, we know, 'Cube," Jubilee said, struggling with an armload of packages.  She dumped them at his feet and gave him a hard look. "You said that a million times already. And I told you t'quit screwin' around with your powers."

"And I told you, Miss Oops-I-Did-It-Again-Wannabe, that I don't have that kind of control." He grinned at the history teacher. "There's only one person I know of who does."

"Ms. Munroe would never do that," Kitty said, trailing them quietly. She glanced politely Ororo, who suddenly had a strange look on her face.

"Hey...Looks like it's clearing up," Bobby said, glancing out the window. A few remaining flakes gently floated past the bay window before the sun peaked through the clouds. He came up behind Rogue and planted his elbows on the couch. Her grin was infectious and he began smiling with her. "Well, this looks cozy. What? What's the deal?"

"Forget it," Wolverine's voice growled loudly. "There ain't nothin' ta see, Iceboy."

"Now I know something's up."

Rogue was still laughing, but she ignored the glares of both Storm and Wolverine and ushered the trio to the other side of the rec room door.

"Rogue--" Wolverine warned over his shoulder.

"Oh, hush, Wolvie. I ain't gonna spill all you're secrets." Her lip quirked. "Yet."

He growled but she had already started talking with Jubilee, Kitty, and Bobby. She had their attention, but couldn't get the words out fast enough before she started laughing again. Seeing her laugh made the others laugh, too.

"What's so funny?"

"This movie...Gawd. Any of y'all ever seen Swordfish?"

"I have," Kitty said, shrugging. "It was terrible. Not one thing in it was realistic. You couldn't possibly get away with what they did, and those hacking scenes were awful!"

Rogue put her hands on her hip. "That's all you saw outta that movie? Bad computer hackin' scenes?"

"Well...yeah. Why else would I want to see it?"

Rogue sighed and rolled her eyes. "You dope. Didn't you see any resemblance between two of those main characters and anyone you know?"

Kitty made a face. "Well, I really only went to see it to get hacking tips. I fast-forwarded past the love scenes."

"Ooh, Katherine!" Rogue shook the girl's shoulders playfully. "You missed out, big time! Those two main characters, Stan an' Ginger, are dead ringers for Miss Munroe an' Logan!"

Kitty wrinkled her nose. "No way. I didn't see that at all."

"Honest?" Bobby peeked his head around the corner and got an eyeful of Logan's scowl. He quickly turned back around. "Well it's gotta be pretty close to the mark if ol' furball's givin' me the evil eye."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear you call him that," Rogue said, imitating Wolverine's scowl. She brightened. "It's so on the mark that these two have a bet goin'."

"What kind of bet?"

"Gawd. I'm too embarrassed t'tell y'all. All ya gotta know is that I'm moderatin' the thing, an' it's turnin' into another Mike Tyson an' Evander Holyfield special."

"I'd pay money to see those two go at it," Jubilee muttered, popping her gum. She blew a huge bubble and glanced over Bobby's shoulder, watching Wolverine cross his arms at her. She waved at him playfully, but he grimaced and turned back to the television. "C'mon, what's the bet about?"

Rogue smirked. "Embarrassin' moments. He who dies first with the reddest face loses."

"Sweet!" Bobby grinned. "I want in on that deal."

"No way," Rogue said, shaking her head. They'd kill me six ways from Sunday. I'm already on thin ice as it is."

"C'mon, what more could Wolfman do but threaten me with his knitting needles?"

"Make you his personal whipping boy in gym class," Kitty said.

"Or use you as his tackling dummy in the Danger Room," Jubilee added.

"Or slice your ice slide when you're not looking," Kitty added.

"Or--"

"Point taken," Bobby said, halting Jubilee in mid-sentence. "Fine. He could make my life miserable. But I still want to see that movie and judge for myself."

"I've got a copy of it upstairs if you really want to see it," Kitty said. "We can watch it on my laptop."

"All right, Kit-Kat! Now you're talkin'!" Bobby slapped her shoulder playfully. "And all this time I thought you were just a computer geek."

"She is," Jubilee said, muttering. "A big ol' 10 on the Nerd-o-Rama meter."

"Keep talking, Jubes, and I won't let you see it with us."

"Yeah, right, like I'm really that curious." But Kitty knew her well enough. They all wanted to see it, and they all wanted to find out just what their teachers had gotten themselves into.

"We can use Allerdyce's microwave to make popcorn." Bobby rubbed his hands together gleefully and Rogue suddenly realized just how much damage she'd done. "I'll have enough dirt to get A's for life. Heck, I bet I won't have to take gym for the rest of my natural born days!"

"Bobby..." Rogue warned.

"Naw, it's cool," he said, but she knew that look. Serious pranks were afoot. He shooed her with his hands. "Go on, take care of your little teachers and keep score for them. Meanwhile," he chuckled evilly, "I'll keep my own little checklist."

"C'mon, Kitty," he said, sauntering to the other side of the room while ignoring both Ororo and Logan's joint glares. He grabbed an armload of packages and bounded up the hallway stairs two at a time. "We've got some serious planning to do."

"It's just a lame movie," Kitty said after him. She ran out of the room and snatched her own package, following him up the stairs. "It's not an Oscar winning masterpiece! It's a really dumb movie!"

"Ahh, but dumb is in the eyes of the beholder."

"And boy, am I looking at dumb."

"Owww," Bobby said. His voice began disappearing around the corner. "You wound me with your quick wit."

"What have I done," Rogue sighed when they were gone.

"Unleashed unspeakable horror on the universe," Jubilee answered, clasping her shoulder. She grabbed Rogue's arm and led her to the other room while seizing her own sizeable packages. "But hey, other than that, no big deal."

"Thanks," Rogue said dryly.

"You're welcome." She trekked slowly up after Kitty and Bobby but half-turned midway up the staircase.  Besides, you got the worse of it."

"How so?"

"You gotta face Wolvie now. You know he heard us."

Rogue made a face. "He loves me too much to damage me."

"Wouldn't count on it," Jubilee said. Then she disappeared around the corner, following Bobby and Kitty.

"C'mon. How bad can..." she trailed off when she turned around, catching the eye of her scowling teachers. "Er...I'm dead, ain't I?"

"Doesn't even begin to describe it," Wolverine growled. He stabbed the couch with his index finger and commanded her to sit.

"Rogue," Ororo began, "I'm still preparing ideas for your next class history project. Would you prefer a ten page essay report, or a thirty page thesis?"

"Ah'm sooo dead," she said, flopping on the couch between them. "Me an' my big southern mouth."

"First thing you've said right in twenty minutes," Logan muttered.

"Well, you could always call off the bet," Rogue offered.

"And let Sno-Cone face get the better of us?" Logan stabbed the remote, wincing at the look on Stanley's face. "Nothin' doin'. It's a whole new ballgame now."

"It was a private bet," Ororo added, "but now, unfortunately, it is quite public and possibly cannon fodder for a new barrage of practical jokes."

"Well, they probably would've seen the movie anyways," Rogue said, sinking lower in her seat. "I only pushed 'em to see it quicker."

"Yeah, but no thanks to you, they wouldn't have put two an' two together. Now we'll forever be known as 'Stan and Ginger.' Nice goin', blabbermouth.'"

"All, right, all right," she huffed. She folded her arms and glared at the television. "But it ain't like I'm an adult. What'd you expect? Teenagers can't keep secrets. It's a law of nature. 'Sides, I'd think the people you'd really be mad at are Scott an' Jean. They started this whole mess."

An idea dawned on Ororo and Logan's faces while they exchanged evil looks.

"Yeah, they did push this on us. It's all their fault."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Logan?"

Wolverine started grinning like a feral idiot. "Could be, goddess. Could be."

Rogue groaned and hid her face in her hands. "I just had to go there."

Part Five: Happy Halle-daze!

Part Five: Happy Halle-daze!

Rogue wasn't normally scared by much.  She learned that if she couldn't get what she wanted with southern charms, then she could usually get it with southern sass.  But this...well, this wasn't something she'd prepared for...and it scared the dickens out of her.

 "Once I win this bet--"

"Or I win," Ororo corrected.

Logan grunted. "After *whoever* wins this bet, we both tag team Red an' One-Eye. Deal?"

"Absolutely. What do you have in mind?"

It was the slow, methodical smile crossing Logan's lips that scared Rogue first.  She knew that smile as much as she knew the man in her head.  The smile he used for stealth.  The smile he used for cunning. The smile, she thought, gulping, for revenge.

"After the movie, 'Ro. The walls have ears."

"I ain't gonna--!"

"Yeah, ya will," Logan said, interrupting the retort on Rogue's lips. "Can't trust ya fer squat."

"Oh, what-EVER," Rogue muttered, making a face. "It ain't like you can keep that many secrets from me.  I got a carbon copy of ya in mah temple."

"But'cha ain't a telepath.  An' we'll make sure ya don't spill the beans this time."

His slow smile and smoldering eyes met Ororo's...and that's when Rogue experienced the second chill up her spine.  Miss Munroe's smile was just as calculating and just as devious as Logan's. And maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of lustful excitement in them as well.

"Uh, oh."

"Don't worry, child," Ororo said quietly. "We won't hurt them.  Much."

"It's the 'much' part that worries me."

Ororo chuckled and softly patted Rogue's knee. "I wouldn't worry too much about it.  Just push 'play' and keep score.  The rest is out of your hands. If all goes well, perhaps I will forgive you for telling on us to all your friends.

"Oh, joy," Rogue said weakly, but did as Ororo commanded and turned the TV back on.

"Ready ta get yer ass whupped?" Logan asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Only if you are," Ororo said sweetly.

But there was a different air in the room now. A bonding had taken place between Logan and Ororo--a new, joint crusade had merged their passions like superglue to a duck. A joint cause that, incidentally, was directed towards the destruction of two well-known alpha mutants.

With a sickening dread, Rogue realized that in a few short minutes she'd just accomplished what Magneto had been trying to do for years.

*     *     *

 "Hahahahah—!"

"Ahh, diable," He muttered, burying his head in his pillow.  Until now, he'd been enjoying his Saturday lie-in. After a long night of gambling and drinking he'd been all too happy to have the wing entirely to himself without the pups about. The kiddos had either gone out or gone home--which meant, as long as he didn't make any sudden moves, he could suffer through his pounding hangover in virtual peace. He actually thought he could get through the ordeal, until Jubilee's squawk pierced through the six-inch oak walls of his bedroom and shattered his pseudo quiet.  He was suddenly convinced that nothing--not even a sound-proof, rubber-lined loony bin--could diminish the decibel level of that child's screech.

"That's them! That's totally them!"

Remy LeBeau moaned and gripped the pillow tighter around his ears. "Dis is what I get for slammin' back dem Kentucky bourbons 'til 4am. Mon Dieu."

Squinting from the scream still ringing in his ears, he gently peeled the pillow from his head and sat up cautiously. He glanced at the clock on his wall--1:45? Well, maybe it was late enough. Late enough to miss the raised eyebrows and knowing chuckles of his fellow instructors and late enough to avoid the Professor's lecture on "Setting Good Examples for the Students."

Ever since he'd been asked...well, all right, coerced into teaching, he felt like he was losing his touch. Trading his bo staff for the teaching staff? His cocky walk for colored chalk? His devil-may-care attitude for teen ingratitude? He grimaced. The World Class Thief and knave extraordinaire had become the not-so-famous Remy LeBeau, mutant French teacher, and slayer of teenage femme's hearts. Quel dommage. He smirked. They could force him to teach but they couldn't expect him to behave, court order or no court order. Xavier'd just have to accept the compromise.

"Bobby, stop it! Cut it out!"

And yet...sometimes the punishments did fit the crime.

He yawned and, running his fingers through his thick auburn hair, decided that coffee was the way to go: Thick, brown, sludgy bayou coffee that'd keep him awake for days. He chucked on a dark, ratty bathrobe over his flannel pants and t-shirt, grabbed his sunglasses (hangovers and photosensitivity were painful combinations, after all), and decided to take the back stairs to the kitchen. Maybe there'd be fewer people asking him why he was still in his pyjamas at two in the afternoon.

*     *     *

 "Jean, look at this pen...Whoa, it lights up in three colors! And this...man, I could really do some major damage with this baby."

 "Uh, huh. That's nice."

 Scott had to smirk at himself. He was acting like a kid who got to go to McDonald's on his birthday. Inspectra Gadgets was one of those guilty pleasures he didn't tell many people about, but he felt geeky enough...why let the world know that he loved shopping for high-tech spy supplies? Luckily, the only person who really knew about his love for James Bond doo-dads tolerated the quirk. Or at least she didn't laugh out loud.

 He was in the middle of reading a manual for the latest infra-red laser pointer-slash-pellet gun when his fiancée began giggling. It started as a light snort, then grew to a strong guffaw, and for one uncomfortable moment Scott wondered if she was laughing at him – or worse, his hobby. His eye brow shot calmly up and he peeked at the item in her hands.

 "Palm-sized camera? Since when did they become so funny?"

 She giggled again and placed the item back on the counter. "No, no, it's not that. I was just thinking."

 "About?"

 "About Logan and 'Ro. I can't help thinking about Logan's reaction to that little lap dance scene.  I'd love to see his look of total mortification."

 A small smile crimped Scott's lips.  "I thought you said he didn't look like Stanley."

 "He doesn't, but for the sake of argument, maybe he resembles Stanley a little bit. Maybe," she emphasized, seeing Scott's smug grin spread.

 "Uh, huh. I'll want eggs and bacon for the next two months, Jean. 6am sharp. Oh, and orange juice. Don't forget the orange juice."

"Little gloater. I wouldn't be so sure about your shoe-in win."

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" He returned the laser pointer manual back to the countertop and grabbed the spy camera. "I'll admit it, I'm curious, too. I'd love to be a fly on the wall."

"Ooh, I'm so tempted. Just one peek – "

"'Ro would kill you."

"I know, I know.  But they're probably arguing right now.  Probably saying how much the other doesn't look like them."

"Heh. Probably."

A funny look crossed her features. "Think any of those scenes might spark something between those two...?"

"Ohh, no." Scott rolled his eyes beneath his ruby glasses. "Don't you start.  The last time you played matchmaker, Warren and Elizabeth nearly tore the mansion to shreds. A match made in heaven it wasn't. Leave well enough alone. In fact, I bet as soon as Logan and Ororo see-–"

Jean glanced up as the camera clattered noisily on the countertop. "Scott? What is it?"

"Oh shit."

"What? You're scaring me, S—"

"Think about it, Jean. What one scene shouldn't 'Ro see?"

"I don't kn...oh, crap," she thought when it hit her. She clamped her eyes tight. "We're in deep doggy doo, aren't we?"

"Up to our necks." Scott checked his watch and grabbed Jean's hand, making a slow trot towards the nearest exit. "If we don't make it back in time, the weather forecast's going to jump from partly cloudy to a typhoon alert."

*     *     *

Remy ignored the light, nervous tittering in the sitting room and padded softly to the coffee maker, grateful for the double entrance to the kitchen. Anyone could come down the back stairs and sneak into the kitchen without tromping through the sitting room or, better yet, enter through the side door and scurry, unseen, to their room. The back entrance should have been well-guarded and technically it was...but not for a thief like him. He poured his coffee and sipped it with a small smile, thinking just how pissed Xavier'd be if he knew his l'il on-probation teacher circumvented the alarm protocols. But then the man was a telepath. He probably already knew.

"Haw, 'I'm not what you think I am'. Ain't that the truth! C'mon, 'Ro, be honest. You like givin' men hard-ons."

Remy spewed his coffee across the room. "What de hell--?"

"Don't be so crass, Logan."

"Hush, Wolvie. Civil, remember?"

"Three points to the goddess. Look at 'er. Even you can tell she's blushing."

"Hell, I'm blushin'," Remy muttered. He grabbed his coffee cup and snuck around the corner to the TV room.

"Two points," Ororo corrected. She stabbed her finger at the television. "And two points to you, Logan."

"I agree," Rogue said, before Logan could retort. She scribbled something in a notebook while Logan grumped and crossed his arms, muttering something about women sticking together.

"Now, y'know I ain't one t'pry," Remy began. He smirked, taking perverse pleasure in the threesome's alarmed faces. "But dis conversation's a mite on the kinky side, non? Sounds fun."

"Go 'way, Cajun," Logan growled. "Ain't none of yer business."

"It's a free country," Remy said, entering the room on cat-like feet. He lowered his mental shields, feeling their emotions and gauging their moods, and almost laughed out loud. Oh, he could have a lot of fun with this. A whole lot of fun.

He jumped on the back of the couch and balanced his lithe body behind their heads. "C'mon. What's gotten you t'ree so riled dat your emotions're doin' de zydeco romp?"

"Nothin.' Go away."

"Yes, Remy. Please leave. This doesn't concern you."

"Uh, huh," Remy muttered. Storm was just as nervous as the Wolfman, which made him twice as determined to stay. "T'ink I'll stick around a while, t'anks. What's de story, Rogue?"

"Nothin'," the girl said quickly. He knew she had a crush on him, and he could usually get anything he wanted from her by turning on the charm. "Just watchin' some dumb ol' movie, that's all."

"Oh, really." Remy glanced at the television screen and did a double take. He suddenly burst out laughing.

"Shit." Wolverine glared at Rogue. "Here it comes. Thanks."

"Hey, Wolvie, you finally found good hair gel. Way t' spike dat hair, mon ami!"

Wolverine, to his credit, didn't turn around. Instead, he shoved his elbow backward and Remy gracelessly tumbled to the floor. "I said go away."

"Why didn't you tell us you was an actor?" Remy said, brushing himself off from the floor. He was still laughing. "I woulda hooked you an' Stormy up long ago. She's a tentatrice on de dance floor."

"Please, Remy."

"Don’t' deny it, Stormy. You're hips're lethal after a few margaritas."

Both Rogue and Logan had half-smiles on their faces and turned to look at her, but she simply sunk lower in her seat. "Long story."

"I'll bet," Logan said smoothly. "Tentatrice."

Ororo shot daggers at Remy. "Don't call me Stormy," she hissed. She suddenly checked the clock on the wall and clucked her tongue. "Shame on you. It's nearly two o'clock, and you're just waking up."

"Cute bunny slippers, though," Rogue said, and Remy wiggled his feet at her.

"Yeah, I like 'em," he sighed, sinking into a nearby chair. As he got comfortable, Logan groaned. "Women love 'em."

Rogue giggled, but both Ororo and Logan rolled their eyes.

"You shouldn't flaunt your late nights in front of the children," Ororo said. "What would they say?"

"Prob'ly somet'in like, 'so dat's what a drunk Creole looks like.'" He smirked at Rogue who hid her smile behind her hand.

"Very funny."

"I t'ought so. Now, c'mon. Dis is some funny shit here. When'd you do dis movie, Wolvie?"

Logan screwed his eyes tight and clamped his teeth, reigning in his control. "For the last time. It's. Not. Me. Okay?"

Remy hid his smile in his coffee. "Sure looks like ya, homme."

Ororo started grinning now, and he couldn't resist stirring the pot. "'Ro seems t'agree wit' me. Shouldn't hide yo' assets, homme. Dey as lethal as Stormy's."

Both adults had turned to chastise Remy, when suddenly the Cajun's jaw dropped and his coffee cup clattered to the floor. "Putain de merde--!"

"What?" Rogue glanced at the television, and hid her eyes. "Oh, gawd, that's it, I'm blind, I'm nevah watchin' television again...ohhh, hell."

Wolverine turned back to the television and half-snorted, half-laughed. A huge, appreciative grin split the sides of his face. "Yeah, now that's more like it. Very nice. Very, very nice."

Ororo slowly turned and saw what they were seeing. The walls of the mansion shook. Thunder pounded the sides. "Not. One. Word," she spat. Her eyes were shockingly white as she rose from the couch. "Not a syllable. Not a smirk. Nothing. Or I'll fry your butt where you stand."

"It'd be worth every second," Logan said, suddenly giggling. Remy was already on the floor, clutching his sides. Rogue had the decently to close her eyes and rock slowly back and forth, as if she'd just seen her mother naked. Well, for all intents and purposes, she had – a naked teacher was equally horrific.

Ororo glared at Logan, but didn't say a word. She let her weather powers speak as a nasty clap came a bit too close to the house, and a small hyacinth bush burst into flames.

"Temper, temper," Remy gasped. "Hell, dis is better den dat time we went to dat club down in Nawlins, Stormy. But you were a li'l too tipsy to remember dat, last I recall."

"That tears it," Storm growled. She stomped from the room and disappeared in the kitchen.

"We're gonna have a helluva lotta vegetable soup the next few days," Logan said. Tears were streaming down his face. "Oh, vindication at last. G'head, Rogue. That's a ten-pointer. Makes us even."

Another thunderclap punctuated his sentence.