A series by November

Chapter 26: Seven Mutants in a Van

Scott and Jean were away on their honeymoon. It was spring break and without the couple, without classes or half of the student body, the school felt rudderless.

Jubilee was sitting on Marie’s couch with Maggie on her lap as she and Rogue talked. Rogue was picking up Maggie’s toys.

"It’s boring here," Jubilee complained.

"You know what we need, sugar?" Rogue grinned.

Jubes knew that grin. "Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’ Roguey?"

"We need to get plastered."

"Thank god you’re thinkin’ what I’m thinkin'."

"I’ll go see if I can get a sitter."

Rogue had been home doing spring cleaning with Maggie for three days. She felt not an iota of guilt about leaving the girl with a sitter for the evening.

Tyler, one of the underclassmen who remained during the break, agreed to watch Maggie, and they were set. Rogue sent emails and Jubilee went door to door, inviting everyone who was either legal or owned a fake ID, Xavier included, to come.

Rogue put on her tight tee shirt with hip hugging jeans and threw on a jacket. She kissed Maggie goodnight and she and Jubilee walked down to the garage.

The first thing Rogue was aware of when seeing the group was that Logan was there. He had a day’s worth of stubble and his hair was gleaming in the last blue light of the day. He wore black jeans and a tight green tee shirt. A very tight green tee shirt. His arms were tan...

He was talking to John, with whom he seemed to have developed a fair amount of rapport. Storm, Carter, and Bobby were also there.

"Okay, so seven mutants walk into a bar..." John said. Everyone laughed.

"I call shotgun," Storm said quietly.

"I’m driving." Rogue announced.

"No way, I wanna drive," Bobby contested.

"No, Vanilla Ice, it was my idea and I’m drivin’." Rogue blew a kiss at Bobby and dangled the van keys.

"This was her brainchild," Jubilee said.

Logan found this heartening. It this trip was Marie’s idea and he was invited, then maybe he was earning her trust. Even though it was the yellow one who had technically invited him.

Storm opened the door of the van and swore. Jubes looked over her shoulder. "Oh man, who’s the asshole who took the seats out?"

"Oh, just get in. You can all sit on your asses for five minutes." Rogue said, climbing into the drivers’ seat.

"Not in this skirt," Jubes muttered.

"Did I mention I’ve got shotgun?" Storm smiled.

A few minutes later, they were underway. John had pulled out his harmonica and started playing a generic blues riff.

"DAAH da, DAAH da, DAAH da, Ne Ne Ne DAAH."

Then he sang in his silly voice:

"Seven mutants in a van," da Ne Ne Ne DAAH, went the harmonica,
"Ain’t got no chairs." da Ne Ne Ne DAAH. Everyone laughed.
"Gotta sit on the floor" da Ne Ne Ne DAAH,
"Can see Jubie’s pubic hairs." da Ne Ne Ne DAAH.

Jubilee scowled and pressed her legs together.

"Seven mutants in a van," da Ne Ne Ne DAAH, went the harmonica,
"We’re gonna get drunk" da Ne Ne Ne DAAH.
"Don’t fuck with our band." da Ne Ne Ne DAAH,
"Or OroroMunroe’llstickalightninboltupyourass!" da Ne Ne Ne DAAH!

Everyone laughed riotously. Storm actually looked proud. Rogue laughed and turned onto Main Street.

"Seven mutants in a van," da Ne Ne Ne DAAH, went the harmonica,
"Rogue driveslikeafuckinmaniac!" da Ne Ne Ne DAAH,
"But not as bad as Logan." da Ne Ne Ne DAAH.

And that was the end of the song. Everyone howled with laughter.

Rogue gunned the gas while driving in a tight arc into the parking lot. As a result everyone wound up on the driver’s side, piled like puppies.

"Sorry, everybody but John!" Rogue smiled sweetly.

"I’m driving back," Logan said.

"Good, cause I wanna be the Designated Drunk," she said, grinning over her shoulder, hair falling just so, and she tossed the keys to Logan.

The place was called Lou’s and they made their own Mezcal, corn flour tortillas, and they served margaritas the size of Big Gulps. It was a Saturday, and packed. Rogue had had the foresight to call ahead for a table and they were quickly led to one in the corner.

She was glad that she had a seat almost opposite Logan. She hadn’t had enough opportunity to look at him. She had never realized how beautiful he was. He caught her staring. He did this thing with his eyebrow that seemed slightly supernatural. No one could get an eyebrow that high without unnatural powers. She wondered if it was the mutation.

She merely stared him down for the obligatory three seconds, as if to say "I’ll stare at whoever I want, Mr. Man, deal with it." He grinned, and then she looked away.

One round of Big Gulp Margaritas, and everybody but Logan was feeling no pain. They learned that alcohol didn’t make Storm’s proper English slip, it just allowed her to speak her mind in it. There was some strange open flirtation thing going on between her, Bobby, and John that was of interest to the other parties at the table to differing degrees, Logan least of all. He was watching Marie, watching her watch him.

She was also watching Carter and Logan wondered about this. The kid was thin and pale and had this sort of poetic pallor thing going on. He was even younger than Rogue but not by much. He knew that the kid was training as an X-Man but also a mechanic, so he was not technically a high school student, and therefore fair game to Rogue. He didn’t like that.

They had dinner and Rogue was able to down a fair amount of tequila. He wondered if it was his influence or if she did this regularly.

She looked so beautiful tonight, her body straining at the tight clothing, but her hair was down and soft, the streaks standing out like her shirt. She laughed a lot and it made her beautiful. She took a sip of her margarita and swallowed, then licked the salt from her lips. He went hard and she caught him staring. He looked away.

He realized that she needed this, to cut loose. Being a single mother at the age of 21 was one thing, but choosing consciously to shoulder that burden, all while being a full-time student, was impressive. He had seen her with the kid, playing in the snow, going on walks in the gardens, watching TV, and he knew how devoted she was. This made him care for her more.

This, the way she looked with red lips and loose hair, this was just mad lust. The combination of the caring and lust was new to him. He turned it over in his brain as he ordered a round of tequila shots for everyone.

Dinner was over, and they had commandeered one of the pool tables. Logan, Jubilee, and Bobby played cutthroat. Rogue was stupid drunk and dancing with Carter. Logan shot too hard and accidentally knocked one of Jubilee’s balls in.

"Thanks, Lo’" she said, and he growled in annoyance. It was lost under the music.

Rogue was happy-drunk, highly buzzed, and enjoying the swaying she and Carter were doing. She felt light and free and desired by everyone. She laughed gaily and waved to a guy across the bar, an acquaintance from one of her classes. He waved back.

Logan accidentally-on-purpose knocked the 8-ball in with two of his balls and as the rest of them started discussing who would play who next. He took that opportunity to duck out the back door and light a cigar.

He leaned against the building and exhaled a plume of smoke. He could have any woman he wanted. Jealousy was a rare feeling for him, and the times he could remember feeling it had been based on lust.

The caring had been there for Marie when he left, even though his actions didn’t reflect it, and it had never wavered. Upon returning and seeing how she had grown so strong and beautiful, respect and pride tempered that caring into some solid and immutable emotion that was utterly foreign to him. He had admired and respected women before, hell, the mansion was full of beautiful, strong women, but never was it combined with (the memory of her, dying in the torch, her, soft and sweet lying on his shoulder) this softness, the desire to protect.

Never before had all these feelings coalesced for one person and despite the fact that it was right, it gelled, it clicked - he didn’t know what to make of it. It scared the hell out of him.

He felt like water, out of control, as if all he could do was run limply through her fingers. This feeling was also foreign to him. Almost daily he cursed the fact that he had no memory to draw on. The twenty years he could remember were not exactly rich with interpersonal relationships.

He did know that he didn’t like feeling like water. He ground his cigar under his boot and went inside.