FIC: Aftershocks Take 1: Wednesday, 5 A.M.: 1/1: PG-13: St. John, others, St. John/Bobby
- Okie-dokie. Back up to par. I'm responding to feedback next. Honest.
I'm appreciative, definitely!
Title: Aftershocks Take 1: Wednesday, 5 A.M.
Author: jenn (jenn@...)
Codes: St. John, others, St.John/Bobby, (pre-L/R)
Series: On Love and Lust at Mutant High #15
Summary: In which St. John knows a hell of a lot more than he's telling.
Author Notes: There are only two absolutes in stories--a beginning and an
end. So I decided to be different and start at the end. We'll get to the
Dedication: Sare for the beta and the good advice. Love ya, darling.
Archiving: List, otherwise ask.
Feedback: With soda. I'm pathetically easy to please.
It was five in the morning and St. John had gotten exactly, no more than,
but exactly, one hour of sleep that night. He was grumpy, tired, and on
that fine edge of exhaustion and hyper-energetic, and he felt himself
quiver as he used his foot to coax the chair from behind his desk and sit
Sitting was good. Laying down would be even better, but he knew himself
well enough to know that the second he was prone, he'd be out like a light,
no matter his emotional state. Which, considering he had to be up in less
than an hour for kitchen duty, was probably not the brightest idea.
And why the hell did everyone come to his room? Shit, they had rooms of
their own. They wanna have a war council, they could damn well do it
"We got a problem."
Remy and Kitty had shown up only a few minutes before, suspiciously at the
same time, but Jubilee, stretched out on his bed, didn't react, so he had
to assume either she didn't care (which damn it, she did, he knew she did)
or that she'd just been earlier than them. Currently, she was searching
under his bed for snack food (she knew he kept a constant supply for
emergency munchie-moments), and emerged with a bag of potato chips clutched
triumphantly in one hand. He wasn't even sure they were good anymore--on
the other hand, they were sealed up in a foil baggy, so maybe potato chips
were like Twinkies and lasted forever. Who knew?
"Does anyone know when they left?" asked Kitty, pulling herself up by
Jubilee and helping herself to a chip. Dollars to donuts neither of them
had been asleep all night either--though he doubted that Rogue had anything
to do with the first few hours. Kitty had been practicing her sleight of
hand for future shoplifting endeavors since the Mall Incident (more put out
by the fact she'd failed than the entire punishment business). Hell, he
knew Jubes was still sort of pissed she hadn't been able to go. Probably
thought if she'd been there, it would have gone smoother. Which it very
well might have--Jubes could talk them out of any situation under the sun.
"Nope. After dinner--I ate with her and she seemed fine," said St. John
quietly, kicking absently at the bed before bracing a foot on the mattress
and balancing himself on the back legs, using the desk to brace the back of
the chair. "So was Bobby--they said they were going to the library and do
Oddly, they took that at face value. He had to wonder about their
"Okay. So they disappeared after dinner, but before bedchecks at
Their punishment for the Mall Incident had been curious in its creativity.
Mandatory lights-out at nine (which was easy to avoid), bedchecks at
midnight, bedchecks at three (easy, again, and he suspected Xavier knew
that), up at six for kitchen duty (whoo-hoo). Their mornings still
belonged to Logan, but their afternoons now belonged to Mr. Summers, who
taught a class on ethics (God help them), after which everyone but Rogue
had about two hours of relatively free time before dinner. Relatively
being the key word--the rec room or their own rooms, under direct adult
supervision--and St. John and Co put their foot down at the idea of any of
the teachers sitting in their rooms, so it was the rec room, period.
Restriction to not just campus but the mansion itself. No shopping, no
cruising, no going outside to go swimming. Period.
Rogue, lucky her, didn't even get that--her extra sessions with Logan had
been extended until fifteen minutes before dinner, and after that, she had
her usual sessions with the Professor twice a week. Though she wasn't
complaining, and St. John supposed that if the Professor's idea of
punishment was to make her stay in Logan's company, Rogue was definitely
rethinking the merits of a criminal lifestyle in a favorable light.
The Professor definitely had an odd sense of humor. Had to give him
"How'd you cover for Bobby at nine?" asked Kitty curiously. St. John
"He's not on restriction," St. John answered coolly. He was the only one
that was. Jubilee was still grounded for the candy incident. Good ole
Bobby, miniature Mr. Summers, an example to them all of good behavior, and
St. John had seen the look of horror on Bobby's face when Mr. Summers had
actually said that out loud in front of what seemed to be most of the
school at dinner the night they'd been picked up. Bobby, not a bad mark on
his record (except for that little spitball-and-plasma incident awhile
back, and really, that had been in the name of science). St. John knew Dr.
Grey suspected that even if Bobby and Jubes hadn't actually participated in
the Mall Incident, they'd known about it (which all four co-conspirators
denied), but nothing could be done with suspicions, after all. So Bobby
was perfectly within his rights to wander off if he wanted to, though
certainly he still had a curfew that required him to be in bed on weekdays
This was a weekday. It was five, no Bobby. No Rogue. Therefore, probably
together, and St. John bit down on his lip as his eyes circled the room.
For once, his mutation was being very quiet--possibly because it suspected
that in this particular instance, St. John probably wouldn't be very
interested in controlling it.
"How'd you cover for Rogue?" St. John asked Jubilee, trying to sound
interested, and Jubilee frowned.
"It was easy, and that's odd--you know Dr. Grey wants visual confirmation
and all that. I just turned on the shower when I heard her coming and said
she was in there and that Logan had called her late to talk to her, so
she'd only just gotten back. She looked all odd and didn't even check, you
know? I guess she didn't do any of her telepathic crap either, because she
never said a word, just left."
St. John nodded slowly and Kitty pulled out another potato chip, crunching
"How long 'as Logan been pacin' downstairs?" asked Remy softly.
"Since bedchecks," Kitty stated. "He woke us all up and you're just lucky
he didn't think she'd be in your room. He asked us all kinds of
questions--seemed really more growly than usual, ya know?"
"Yeah, I imagine. He wasn't too happy to see Bobby gone from our room
either." St. John took a breath, let it out evenly. "He asked me three
times where he was--like I was hidin' the information or somethin'."
"Which you would have if you knew, and he knows that," Jubilee said
practically, ducking her head to check the bag for another chip.
"S'okay--we got a thirty minute interrogation from Scooter that was pretty
damn funny. Logan ordered the whole house searched and Scooter said he was
overreacting to the incident." Jubes looked thoughtful. "Though I gotta
wonder--you know Logan doesn't care when Rogue acts out. He didn't even
care she was helpin' shoplift, you know, just got pissed that she got
caught. And he snuck her out of here after curfew twice so they could play
pool in town. So why the hell is he freaking about it now?"
St. John shifted a little and tried to get comfortable. When he looked up,
all eyes were on him. Oh wow.
"Huh?" God, did he sound defensive.
"What do you know, Johnny?" asked Jubilee suspiciously. Fuck, they knew
him too well. "You're takin' this way too calm, boy-o."
Kitty shifted closer, eyes narrowing.
"If you did, you'd never tell on Bobby." Her voice was thoughtful, low.
"God knows what's between you and Roguey, but you--"
"There's nothing between me and Rogue."
Jubilee's eyes went down, freezing briefly at his collar.
"You got her lipstick on your shirt, Johnny." A pause. "How'd you get
St. John started, knowing he looked guilty, and glanced down at the white
collar of his shirt. Imprinted it was a smear of red. Definitely in the
shape of lips. Definitely, he should have changed clothes, but he hadn't
really thought ahead much either.
"Maybe I like lipstick." Oh wow, that was sooo bright. He could talk his
way out of a lot of things, but not that lipstick. At this point, he was
too close to exhaustion to care.
Remy sat straight, eyes narrowing, and both Kitty and Jubilee as one jumped
off his bed. Before he could think--and why the hell had he let them sit
on his bed without checking it first?--they jerked back the sheets and Remy
stood up, slowly walking over to see the smears of lipstick across the
sheet and he knew they could smell the very lightest trace of her perfume.
And there was no way he could talk his way out of that perfume or that
"It's not your business," he said sharply, getting up. Before he got five
inches, Kitty was blocking the door, arms crossed over her chest, watching
him, dawning suspicion on her face. Jubilee took his right, and Remy was
already moving into center.
"Logan was in here for awhile--he smelled somethin', didn't he? What the
fuck is goin' on, Johnny?" Jubes said slowly, working it out. "You know
somethin'. You know where they are."
"Fuck if I do." He was bracketed--wow, they really were learning from
Logan, this was a classic attack pattern. All he had was the wall behind
him. "They left, I wished their asses well, and that's all there is to it.
You wanna make somethin' more, feel absolutely free to get the fuck outta
my room to do it."
Even he was surprised by that last line, and blinked at himself, wondering
when he became the type of person to take out his anger on someone else.
Kitty drew back as if he'd hit her, but Jubilee reacted true to type.
Grabbing her shoes from beside his bed, she turned to the door
"Gotcha, babe. Fuck yourself, Johnny. I don't need this crap. We'll find
out on our own. If you don't feel like puttin' out the energy to be
worried that they disappeared without tellin' a person where the fuck
they'll be, you just sit here and we'll do the work. Got it?"
"Trust me, Jubes, they're fine. Rogue's gettin' a little practice in on
Bobby and he's stupid enough to fall for it."
Their reaction was nothing short of shock.
"She's not into him like that."
"She changed her mind, apparently. You see them 'round here?" St. John
wanted them to leave, leave now--his temperature was rising, because they
were making him think about it, and he couldn't do that right now, he just
couldn't. Running his palms down his pajama bottoms, knowing the burn
wouldn't stop until he could center himself, he took a breath, trying to
bring everything under control. Keep his voice even. "They left--I don't
know where, but I do know why. She wants to fuck around with Drake, she
fucking can. I'm not her keeper and I'm not his. So I don't give a good
fuck what they do. So get the hell outta my room and leave me the hell
outta it, 'kay? You wanna play private eye and cater to Rogue's little
personality quirks, feel oh so fucking free, because I'm done with it, got
What the fuck would it take?
"Get the fuck out, Kittycat. All of you. I'm not interested--I don't
care. Get it this time? I. Don't. Care. Get out."
For a second, he almost thought they might stay. But Jubilee, clutching
her shoes, turned on her heel, grabbing Kitty by the arm and pushing the
door open. One glance from Kitty, before Remy blocked his view, and then
the door closed with ominous care, and St. John sat down on his bed,
shutting his eyes tight and hating, hating, hating, that anything could
make him feel like this.
"Fuck her if she wants to play like that."
Talking to himself couldn't be a sign of anything good, but he didn't much
care about that either. Laying back down, he rolled until he buried his
head in the pillow, still smelling the lingering traces of Rogue's perfume.
--She has all the passion and attraction of airplane noodles.--Nacey's
opinion of Jean's wild side