Rogue had one hand on her hip, weight shifted to rest on one leg. Her other hand held onto one end of a long streamer.
Jean barely concealed a sigh and was about to answer when, to her surprise, Scott beat her to it.
"Haven't we been over this, Rogue?"
"Only like a zillion times," one Jaime piped up from the other end of Rogue's streamer.
"Maybe she's, y'know, slow…" another stage-whispered to a third from across the patio that led to the poolside. They both snickered.
"Or maybe you're a brat," Rogue said, shooting them two dupes a glare that shut them up at once.
"I'm just sayin'," she continued, when it became apparent that Jaime (all three of him) had learned his lesson, "What's the use of throwin' the Professor a party when he obviously already knows we're goin' to?"
"Give the Professor some credit, Rogue," Jean said as she helped Scott spread a burgundy table runner across a folding table. "He's the greatest telepath the world has ever seen; part of that is knowing how to block out thoughts. It's not like he's reading minds twenty-four seven."
"Besides," Scott added, "We kill two birds with one stone this way. We let the Professor know how much he's done for us and at the same time, we've got ourselves a great opportunity to practice-"
"-to practice keeping our mental shields up," Rogue finished for him, rolling her eyes at the nearest Jaime, who had mouthed the words along with them. "We know, Scott."
Hank chuckled from where he was listening on a second floor window, a brisk breeze carrying the conversation up to his sensitive hearing. Trust Scott to turn something like a party into an impromptu training session.
He saw Jean glance up briefly, and ducked back into his room; he wasn't technically supposed to be here. As far as the kids knew, he was cooped up in his lab, working on some research or the other. Sam and Amara were supposed to be discreetly keeping watch and making sure he stayed sub-level, but his stash of Twinkies ran out. What's a big, furry Beast to do without brain food?
Sneaking past the two was a little too easy; they were in that stage of relationship where they were still easily distracted by the other's mere presence. He could have just as easily informed them where he was going, but that would mean letting them know he knew about the surprise the students were planning.
And of course he knew, how could anyone miss it? It was one thing surprising Ororo. This time, they were trying to keep three people in the dark - two of which had enhanced senses and the third, the most gifted telepath known to man.
With all the effort they were going through for them, Hank just didn't have the heart to tell them that they all already knew what was going on.
Oh, don't say that, came Jean's sudden, mental sigh. I mean, I half-expected it myself. But after Storm's party last month, Scott was really hoping to surprise you all, and especially the Professor.
Hank smiled apologetically, knowing that Jean could feel his sympathy even if she couldn't see him.
Worry not, Ms. Grey, he thought back to her as he retrieved a box of back-up Twinkies from his bedside table, Charles has already given Logan and myself explicit instructions to act out our most convincing surprise.
"... Bobby, if you would?"
Ororo took a half-step back, giving the younger mutant room to stretch out a hand over an empty punch bowl. Ice in perfectly shaped cubes clinked into the glass, stopping when the bowl was about a third of the way full.
"That enough, Ms. Munroe?"
"It's perfect; thank you, child." She smiled at him briefly, before she stretched out a hand of her own. Her eyes glazed over white as the air around the bowl dropped several degrees. In moments, the bowl was covered in a layer of frost.
Bobby fist-pumped the air when she finished. "Yeah! Go Team Chill!"
She let out a surprised chuckle. "Team Chill?"
"Only the coolest people get to be on it," he said, grinning like the teenage boy that he was. "Get it? Since, you know, we're both so –"
A loud groan cut through the air before the terrible joke could finish. "Will you stop flirting with Ms. Munroe and get your ass over here, Drake?" Ray's voice came from the island counter. He rolled his eyes and pointed at Bobby with the knife he'd been using. "Make yourself useful for once, you know?"
Bobby flushed a pale pink. "Wha – I don't – I wasn't – I'll show you useful…!"
Ororo shook her head at their antics, amused when the two began no-powers-allowed wrestling across the kitchen and eventually out the door. She picked up the knife that Ray thankfully had the presence of mind to carefully set aside before Bobby lunged for him, and walked over to the counter where Laura was studiously ignoring their noise.
"And how are we doing over here?" she asked gently. Laura and Ray had been given the same task, slicing several oranges and limes into neat discs. Where Laura's orange slices were thin and evenly cut with alarming precision, Ray's lime wedges were in haphazard sizes. It wasn't for lack of trying, though, as Storm could see he'd tried his best to keep them uniform – no easy feat, when you're working alongside X-23.
Laura used her own knife to slide a pile of orange slices into a neat stack and set to work on cutting up some of the stockier lime wedges into somewhat slimmer slices, her motions swift and no-nonsense.
"Ray was distracted. His wedges are disappointing."
Ororo hid a smile. Laura was as blunt as her gene-father. "He and Bobby were eager to help in here, but perhaps I should have asked him to help Scott and the others set up the tables outside."
Laura shrugged and merely set back to work. Knife already in hand, Ororo decided to join her. The two were working in comfortable silence, the sound of knives hitting chopping board approaching a soothing rhythm when Laura paused.
"This party," she began, knife poised over an orange. "It's like the one arranged for you about a month ago."
It was a statement, but Ororo heard the tentative question mark behind it. She nodded, smiling. "A little, yes. The difference being, of course, that this is in celebration of Father's Day."
"Father's Day," she repeated. "Kitty explained it, and Mother's Day to me before." She didn't trail off, but Ororo could see her sharpening focus on the fruit before her, as if it contained the answers to all her questions.
"I'm sure she did. But Laura, you know that you are more than welcome to approach me if you have anything more to ask."
Laura half-turned to her then, head tilted in question. "Kitty said they were days for us to show mothers and fathers how valued and important they are." She spoke slowly, peering at Ororo closely as if determining if what she was saying was correct. Ororo nodded for her to continue.
Laura turned back to her orange, frowning a little. "If it is so important, why is it only done once a year? Shouldn't it be more often than that?"
"Oh, Laura," Ororo set the knife down and faced the the younger girl. "In an ideal world, yes. We should be taking every moment of every day to tell our parents how much they mean to us. But the reality is that we are so caught up with our own lives, we forget to do precisely that. Not because we choose to, mind, and not out of malice, either."
"But perhaps that is the reason that these particular days exist. We do not wish to take our mothers and fathers for granted; far from it. And if the solution is to take a day and dedicate it to celebrating the gift of having someone to take care of and look out for you, then so be it," Ororo's voice turned wistful. "These days bring us cause to come together as a family and family... Family is important, after all."
Somewhere along Ororo's spiel, Laura had turned to give the older woman her full attention. She remained poker-faced throughout it all, but at the last portion, she looked away.
(--I'm a victim, just like you. I may be the closest thing you've got to a family.--)
Ororo could see the gears turning in her mind and felt her heart warm. When it became apparent that she had nothing more to say, she turned back to the forgotten citrus fruits on the counter.
Still, she couldn't help but feel like giving Laura a hint or two. "You know, I've heard tell that Logan appreciates a good steak and potatoes dinner with his beer... Perhaps, if you wanted help..."
Laura glanced up to give her a curious (suspicious?) stare. "You would know, wouldn't you? What with yours and his relationship. Whatever that is."
Laura's casual, no-nonsense words brought a dull, surprised flush to Storm's cheeks. The insinuation was nothing new; Ororo was accustomed to light teasing from the rest of the students on a week-to-week basis by now, after all. She was even aware of the mansion-wide betting pool started a month ago for when she and the Wolverine would "get their damn act together already." ("Like, you're totally the new Scott and Jean, Ororo!")
But hearing it from Laura – Logan's own gene daughter – seemed to put things in a new perspective.
She blinked once, twice to regain her composure.
"I – well, that is, Logan and I…"
"- And 'ere's half a dozen bottles of Merlot as ordered, chère," came Gambit's voice from just outside the kitchen. The Cajun had taken that moment to saunter in, arms full of red wine, with Tabitha and Piotr not far behind. The latter was holding onto bottles of club soda and obligingly listening to Tabby chatter away about how her grandmother's sangria mix always had a generous helping of tequila for an extra kick.
But Laura was still looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.
Ororo managed a wry smile. "... It's complicated, my dear."
Laura shrugged. "Doesn't have to be," And with that, she went back to her oranges.
Storm found that she had nothing to answer to that, either, and so turned to receive the bottles of wine from Remy. As he passed them over, he murmured to her under his breath: "Jus' remember, Stormy – Remy has ten dollars on you an' M'sieur Claws gettin' it on before the week is over, eh?"
The sun was high in the sky as Logan made his way across the gardens behind the Xavier Institute. Every step brought him further and further away from the steady noise and chatter of teenagers busily preparing what was supposed to be a surprise afternoon mixer in honor of the day. He rolled his eyes, shook his head. You'd think they'd be quieter, if they wanted it to be a surprise.
Turning a corner and walking past a row of geraniums brought the gazebo into view. Charles sat facing the sea, fingers calmly steepled together as he watched the waves crash into the cliffside. Unsurprisingly, he turned to face the approaching Logan even before the latter could get a hello in.
Wolverine raised both his hands in greeting anyway - a bottle of what he recognized as scotch from the minibar in his study in one hand, and two glasses in the other. Charles shook his head with a wry smile.
"Isn't it rather early for a drink, old friend?"
"Ain't never too early, Chuck," He grinned as he stepped into the gazebo. "'Sides, something tells me you could use one of these."
"And just how long have you been a telepath, Logan?"
He gave the Professor a dry look. "I don't haveta be a mindreader to tell when you need t'get away from the kids for a few... 'Course this's the first time I found you all the way out here. Usually you're at the study, or tinkering at Cerebro."
"I'm merely keeping out of their way," Charles shrugged. "They're quite busy back there, and I would hate to ruin all their effort by spoiling the surprise..."
Logan didn't answer, choosing instead to fix him with a look that quite clearly said You're gonna have try harder than that, Chuck.
He sighed. It would be a lie if he didn't admit to himself that Logan's ability to sniff out lies bothered him on some level.
"... And it was getting rather loud in the house."
Logan snorted as he handed over a glass and poured exactly two fingers of scotch in. "Tell me about it. And they still expect us to be surprised with all the racket they've been making?"
Charles chuckled. He took a careful sip of his drink before speaking up next. "I imagine it does seem rather loud for you and Henry, Logan. But that's not what I meant."
"Yeah?" Logan poured out a drink for himself, Charles decided not to comment on how much fuller his glass was.
"Yes. I'm sure you're aware of Jean and Scott encouraging their friends to build up their mental shields..." At this, Charles took another sip. "It seems they've instead taken that to mean loudly broadcasting thoughts to mask the plans pertaining to party."
Logan blinked.
"It's a trick they've learned to use when they decide to keep secrets from me, I'm afraid." He explained, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "They've used it once or twice now, to sneak in or out of the mansion after hours, if you must know."
"... Not gonna lie, Chuck, I am this close to caging those damn kids," He echoed Charles' sigh. "So what, now they're doin' it all at once, is that it?"
"I'm afraid so." Another sip of whiskey. "One can only stand the musings of a teenage mind for so long, Logan. Even out here, I am still getting snatches of Jubilee's thoughts; there is no end to that girl's carefully mapped out shopping routes for this summer's mallwide sales..." Another weary sigh. "Not to mention the endless international football statistics care of Kurt and Roberto, or Danielle and Rahne's myriad of opposing theories on Lost..."
Logan winced in spite of himself. And he thought he had it bad. They'd all heard the two girls arguing surprisingly vehemently about the stupid show before. It wasn't pretty, and he could only imagine what that would be like in their heads.
Charles downed the last of his scotch and handed the glass back. He shook his head when Logan moved to pour another shot, thinking of Ororo's sangria. He'd had enough for now. But Wolverine was right; the alcohol did seem to help calm his mind a little, just enough to remember one last tidbit that may interest his friend.
He smiled slyly. "By the by, it seems that young Laura has finally placed her bet in the pool regarding yourself and Ororo," Unsurprisingly, Logan fought not to choke on his drink. "It seems she thinks that either one of you would make a move by the end of the night. I wonder why that is...?"
Charles found himself chuckling heartily at the sight of Wolverine, blinking rapidly as the scotch struggled to go down the right way, the barest hint of pink appearing on his rugged cheeks.
- Charles?
"Speak of the devil, Ororo," Charles had answered aloud, smiling, one hand rising to his temple. He ignored the way Logan glared fiercely at him. "How are things in mansion coming along?"
There was a fond smile in her voice. We are just about finished here. You may want to make yourself a little easier to find, some of the students already suspect that you know...
She paused, and he could sense her question even before she put the words together. He hid another smile in anticipation.
Have you seen Logan, by any chance?
He would blame it on the scotch later, but he thought unbidden of his previous intent to put a bid of his own in the famous betting pool. (He'd been immediately shot down by his own students who argued that betting against a telepath of his caliber was grossly unfair, and completely pointless.)
Ororo was aghast. Charles...!
With me, Ororo. He is with me, He chuckled at her near-palpable shock and reassured her that Logan was not privy to their conversation so far. But aloud (for Logan's sake), he said: "We won't be but a moment. And do not worry about Henry, I'll take care of informing him myself."
I ... All right, then. Thank you. I... shall see you both soon.
He turned to speak to Logan then, still inwardly smiling at Ororo's response. She was calm and cool-headed so often that seeing her unsure was always rather charming.
But Logan was already on his way back, muttering about being the only sane one left in the mansion ("- other than 'Ro, and not 'cause of any bias damn it!")
Charles shook his head, grinning as he reached out for Hank's thoughts.
Alas, came his mental reply, later. I should have bet on tonight as well! It seems that Laura will find herself a rich young woman on the morrow!
endnote: Laura & Remy ended up splitting the winnings. How? Stay tuned for a follow-up oneshot set between this chapter and the next one to find out.
