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I suppose that this fits Indigo's challenge
-- in a weird way. This is another silly, silly, fic. One
of the 'why the heck did she post this silly thing' variety.
*Sigh* Maybe I should get a hobby... <g >
Disclaimer: Marvel's.
Psylocke cursed as the alarm continued to blare. Attackers,
at six o'clock in the morning! Of all the nerve!
She looked down at the dark hair covering her legs, and sighed.
No time to shave now. Good thing that her boots came up to
her knees. Now, all she had to do was remember not to lift
her arms and she'd be set for the day.
Jean cast one last, longing look towards the bathroom where
her toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste were waiting for her.
She had that icky morning breath thing going on and longed
for a moment with her toothbrush.
Whoever was damned inconsiderate enough to attack before
I got to brush my teeth is going to pay for this!
At her side, Scott was desperately scratching at the stubble
covering his cheeks. Gambit may have been into stubble, but
having the scratchy little hairs covering his face drove Scott
crazy.
Six o'clock! he thought incredulously.
He indulged in one more scratch before following Jean out
of their room.
Bobby fidgeted uncomfortably. God, my bladder is going
to burst! he thought desperately. He considered taking
a bathroom break, but the thought of how he'd explain his
absence during the fight to Scott changed his mind.
Just don't let me get hit in the gut!
Rogue desperately shifted through her drawer, pausing only
to curse at the alarm. "Damn! Where are all my clean
underwear!?"
Socks, pantyhose, bras but no underwear!
Oh damn! They must still be in the dryer! Rogue was
torn. Fight, or underwear?
"Why do I always get stuck with the tough choices?!"
she wailed.
Wolverine woke with a snarl. There were intruders! Fight!
He rolled out of bed and grabbed at his uniform. His hand
came away empty. He blinked and looked down. His uniform wasn't
there!
"Oh what the hell!" Wolverine growled and ran out
of his room. Who needed clothing to fight, anyhow?
Gambit cursed as the alarm sent his teammates scurrying out
of the house. He shifted around, his eyes searching for toilet
paper. There was none.
"Guys?!" he called out. No one answered.Next
time, I've gotta check for toilet paper first!
"Hello?!" Still no answer.
"Merde."
A long and strenuous fight later (during which Bobby was
indeed hit in the stomach, Rogue's uniform ripped in the butt
area, Jean knocked an intruder out with morning breath, Scott
got knocked out while distracted by the itching of his stubble,
and the wall to the bathroom collapsed), the weary (and in
some cases very embarrassed) X-Men wandered back inside.
Flushing, Bobby ran back inside to change his clothing. He'd
never, ever live that little accident down. At least the bad
guy had been so busy laughing that he'd been able to knock
him out. Not that any of his teammates would remember that
part of the incident.
Storm had been kind enough to deliver some toilet paper to
the cursing Gambit. After delivering the much desired item
to him, Storm ran a hand through her hair wearily. She moaned
as her fingers got tangled in her long white locks. The winds
she had summoned had tangled her hair dreadfully!
And then, the worst part of the after battle routine -- waiting
for the shower. Most people thought that super heroes and
the like were glamorous, little did they know of the dirt
and grime that people tended to be left with after a strenuous
battle. Not to mention how much sweat someone could work up
in those physically stressful minutes. Sweat soaked spandex
tended to cling to people's bodies, making a real pain to
get off.
What a way to start off the day.
~End~
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