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deathpixieNot my first Gen X fic, but the others need a bit too much formatting and I want to get to bed early tonight. Everett, Jubilee, a shopping mall at Christmas time. Your basic fluff.
PS: Happy Belated Birthday, [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]!
Rating: G
Genre: Generation X
Disclaimer: Marvel's, not mine. No profit, only homage.
'If I ever go to Hell,' Everett Thomas thought to himself, 'This is what it'll be like.'
'This' was the mall, two days before Christmas. The place looked like a tinsel factory had exploded, taking with it the "Lame Plastic Christmas Character Factory" next door. Over the speakers, Christmas songs played tinnily, reminding Everett of why he hated Bing Crosby so much. And the mall was crowded: teeming with people who shoved and pushed they way past each other with the universal "shopping stare", the zombie-like state induced by shopping malls all over the world. He slumped further down on his bench, burrowing into his heavy jacket, glanced at the cheerful-faced clown-clock overhead and wondered if he could find a suitable place to hide Jubilee's dead body after he killed her.
Everett had finished his Christmas shopping weeks ago, in order to avoid the very situation he now found himself in. There had been no reason for him to even set foot within a fifty-mile radius of the mall until well after the Christmas Shopping Insanity Period had passed. But Fate and Jubilee had conspired to bring him here.
"Please Ev, it's a matter of life and terminal embarrassment here! Ya gotta take me! None of the others will, and since I don't got a licence, I need a designated driver type!" she pleaded with him. And then she'd added the killer blow, the one designed to bring him to his knees: she'd looked up at him with wide, impossibly-deep blue eyes, and said, her bottom lip quivering: "Everyone's gonna be sooo disappointed on Christmas Eve if ya don't take me to the mall today!"
Sitting on the bench, Everett mentally kicked himself. It worked every time. Whenever Jubilee wanted something from him, she could always turn him to putty with the pout and the big eyes. He wondered if it worked on Wolverine. Probably, considering the size of the package that had arrived at the Academy for her yesterday morning. This year Jubilee wouldn't be spending Christmas at the mansion: it was a bit difficult, with the place in rubble (again) and the inhabitants scattered. So Jubilee was spending her Christmas at the Academy, with Jono and Penny and Gaia and the little kids, Artie and Leech. She'd hated the idea at first, but slowly she'd come around. Too slowly, hence the emergency trip to the mall for Christmas presents she had earlier sworn she wouldn't bother with, since "it's not gonna be like Christmas anyway, staying at school."
Everett glanced up at the clock again. An hour. Jubilee had left him here an hour ago, buried under parcels and bags, promising she'd "only be a minute".
'Why do you do this to yourself, man?' he asked himself, 'She's always doing stuff like this, taking you for granted. How's she gonna learn to look after herself if you're always there to bail her out?'
As much as he wanted to ignore that little voice, Everett had to admit it had a point. They were complete opposites: he organised, conscientious, polite, studious; while Jubilee was a loudmouthed, obnoxious, impulsive walking disaster. She was never able to plan ahead, prioritise, consider the repercussions of her actions (or inactions), and invariably she called on Everett to help her out of whatever jam she landed herself in.
'I wish I'd gone home last week, like I was going to,' he thought darkly. He'd postponed his trip to help Jubilee get over her disappointment at not being able to join the X-Men for Christmas. 'At least there I'm appreciated.' What Angelo had told him, he considered, was true: nice guys did finish last. The only time the others had taken notice of him, really noticed him, was when Emplate had turned him into a marrow-sucking vampire. Otherwise, he was just 'good ol' Ev', 'dependable Ev', the one who could be counted on to do the dirty work and do as he was told. Everett scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking deeper into a gloom which clashed with the cheeriness of his surroundings.
'Well, that's my New Year resolution,' he decided, 'No more Mr Nice Guy. They can just find another sucker. No more "Can you help me with my homework Ev?" or "Teach me how to use my powers better, Synch" or "Can you look after the kids, you're so good with them?." They can just go to hell!'
With that resolution, Everett stared unseeingly across the mall, his attention focussed on his woes. He registered the three boys shoving their way through the crowd, but only realised they had knocked someone over when a sharp cry of pain reached him. Just to his right, a snowy-haired old man was struggling to sit up amid a tangle of bags, parcels and a stout wooden walking-stick. For a second, Everett simply sat there, watching, but realising no-one was going to stop and help - indeed, people were stepping around the old man with looks of annoyance on their faces - he sighed, and got up. So much for the all-new, all-different Everett Thomas.
"Are you okay?" he asked. The old man had managed to push himself into a sitting position and was patting his pockets in a vaguely concerned way. Everett crouched down beside him.
"What? Oh, I'm fine, just a little shaken. Those scalliwags seemed to have taken my wallet too. What's the world coming to? It wasn't like this in my day, dear me no..." rambled the old man, still patting his pockets with a look of confusion in his faded blue eyes. Despite his manner, he was well-groomed: someone obviously took care to see his clothes fit well and his white beard was kept neat.
"There's a bench just over there. Perhaps you should sit down for a minute? I'll pick up your shopping, and you can mind mine," Everett suggested gently, helping the old man up and putting his walking stick in his hand.
"So kind of you, sonny. It's good to see a properly-raised young person in this day and age. Most of 'em are only interested in themselves. They wouldn't bother with an old duffer like me, except to knock me down and steal my wallet." Standing, he was surprisingly tall, and despite the ravages of age and the paunch beneath the duffel coat, his frame was still that of a strong man. Everett settled him down on the bench, and started stuffing parcels into the two string bags the man had dropped. There were a lot of them, all small and wrapped in Christmas paper, with small bows and cards.
"Looks like you're organised," Everett remarked as he chased the last present down: it had been kicked away from the rest. "Most people wouldn't think to get so many things gift-wrapped, but I guess it saves time."
"I’m not as organised as usual. Normally I wouldn't be here at all. I hate shopping malls, terrible, soulless places they are. Give me the corner store any day. But an unforeseen crisis arose, and the wife sent me down here on an emergency gift run."
"A friend of mine would agree with you. He says malls are sink-holes for negative energy, and they suck out your will to resist buying things. But it's not as if he's a bundle of joy himself. More like a walking angst zone." Everett chuckled. He didn't notice the brief smile that crossed the other's face.
"Maybe he should remember that bad little boys get pieces of coal from Father Christmas," was all he said, a twinkle in his eye. "So tell me, young man. You seem like an organised type yourself. What brings you to this particular sink-hole of negative energy so late in the season?" Everett pulled a face.
"Doing a favour for a friend. Again," he replied shortly, the smile slipping from his face. "Do you ever feel you're being taken advantage of because of your good nature?" he asked suddenly, and then immediately wished he could take the question back. He didn't want to spoil this nice old gent's Christmas any more than it already had been.
"Frequently," came the reply, "But I keep reminding myself that that's what a true friend is. Someone who does things for others without expecting anything in return. It's what Christmas is all about, celebrating friendship and love, and all those other things the greeting cards tell us." He winked at Everett. "I wouldn't let it get to you, son. We all like our efforts to be acknowledged, and one day they will. That's what all this," he made a sweeping gesture that included the people, the decorations, the carollers who had set up in the corner without Everett noticing, "That's what all this is for. To let the ones who mean most to us know how much you care."
Everett looked at the mall with new eyes. Sure, the screaming kids and the harried mothers and the bored teenagers were still there, but he could see beyond that. The mother waiting patiently in line with her child to see Santa, the child staring up at the Red-Suited One with huge round eyes. The couple gazing in the window of a jewelery shop, holding hands. The grandmotherly type walking out of the skateboard shop with an obvious skateboard wrapped in gift paper. And seeing this, Everett remembered why he'd always loved Christmas. Not for the food or the presents or for the Christmas specials on TV. For the people, and the joy he saw on their faces and felt in their auras. He turned to thank the old man, only to find he had gone. A single wrapped parcel lay on the seat, the name tag proclaiming in flowing letters, "Everett".
"Hey dude, watcha got?" Jubilee asked, plopping down on the bench beside him as he turned the small box over in his hands.
"Just a early Christmas present," Everett replied, smiling, "You ready to book?"
"Yeah, you bet. This late Christmas shopping thing sucks ass, ya know?" Together they gathered up all of Jubilee's purchases, and headed for the exit.
"Yeah, I know," Everett replied with heartfelt sincerity, "How about next year you come with me?"
"And miss out on the bargains? No way dude." Jubilee laughed. Then she looked up at Everett, a serious look incongruous on her normally cheerful face. "I really appreciate this, ya know that, don't ya?"
"I do now, J, and that's good enough for me."
PS: Happy Belated Birthday, [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]!
Rating: G
Genre: Generation X
Disclaimer: Marvel's, not mine. No profit, only homage.
'If I ever go to Hell,' Everett Thomas thought to himself, 'This is what it'll be like.'
'This' was the mall, two days before Christmas. The place looked like a tinsel factory had exploded, taking with it the "Lame Plastic Christmas Character Factory" next door. Over the speakers, Christmas songs played tinnily, reminding Everett of why he hated Bing Crosby so much. And the mall was crowded: teeming with people who shoved and pushed they way past each other with the universal "shopping stare", the zombie-like state induced by shopping malls all over the world. He slumped further down on his bench, burrowing into his heavy jacket, glanced at the cheerful-faced clown-clock overhead and wondered if he could find a suitable place to hide Jubilee's dead body after he killed her.
Everett had finished his Christmas shopping weeks ago, in order to avoid the very situation he now found himself in. There had been no reason for him to even set foot within a fifty-mile radius of the mall until well after the Christmas Shopping Insanity Period had passed. But Fate and Jubilee had conspired to bring him here.
"Please Ev, it's a matter of life and terminal embarrassment here! Ya gotta take me! None of the others will, and since I don't got a licence, I need a designated driver type!" she pleaded with him. And then she'd added the killer blow, the one designed to bring him to his knees: she'd looked up at him with wide, impossibly-deep blue eyes, and said, her bottom lip quivering: "Everyone's gonna be sooo disappointed on Christmas Eve if ya don't take me to the mall today!"
Sitting on the bench, Everett mentally kicked himself. It worked every time. Whenever Jubilee wanted something from him, she could always turn him to putty with the pout and the big eyes. He wondered if it worked on Wolverine. Probably, considering the size of the package that had arrived at the Academy for her yesterday morning. This year Jubilee wouldn't be spending Christmas at the mansion: it was a bit difficult, with the place in rubble (again) and the inhabitants scattered. So Jubilee was spending her Christmas at the Academy, with Jono and Penny and Gaia and the little kids, Artie and Leech. She'd hated the idea at first, but slowly she'd come around. Too slowly, hence the emergency trip to the mall for Christmas presents she had earlier sworn she wouldn't bother with, since "it's not gonna be like Christmas anyway, staying at school."
Everett glanced up at the clock again. An hour. Jubilee had left him here an hour ago, buried under parcels and bags, promising she'd "only be a minute".
'Why do you do this to yourself, man?' he asked himself, 'She's always doing stuff like this, taking you for granted. How's she gonna learn to look after herself if you're always there to bail her out?'
As much as he wanted to ignore that little voice, Everett had to admit it had a point. They were complete opposites: he organised, conscientious, polite, studious; while Jubilee was a loudmouthed, obnoxious, impulsive walking disaster. She was never able to plan ahead, prioritise, consider the repercussions of her actions (or inactions), and invariably she called on Everett to help her out of whatever jam she landed herself in.
'I wish I'd gone home last week, like I was going to,' he thought darkly. He'd postponed his trip to help Jubilee get over her disappointment at not being able to join the X-Men for Christmas. 'At least there I'm appreciated.' What Angelo had told him, he considered, was true: nice guys did finish last. The only time the others had taken notice of him, really noticed him, was when Emplate had turned him into a marrow-sucking vampire. Otherwise, he was just 'good ol' Ev', 'dependable Ev', the one who could be counted on to do the dirty work and do as he was told. Everett scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking deeper into a gloom which clashed with the cheeriness of his surroundings.
'Well, that's my New Year resolution,' he decided, 'No more Mr Nice Guy. They can just find another sucker. No more "Can you help me with my homework Ev?" or "Teach me how to use my powers better, Synch" or "Can you look after the kids, you're so good with them?." They can just go to hell!'
With that resolution, Everett stared unseeingly across the mall, his attention focussed on his woes. He registered the three boys shoving their way through the crowd, but only realised they had knocked someone over when a sharp cry of pain reached him. Just to his right, a snowy-haired old man was struggling to sit up amid a tangle of bags, parcels and a stout wooden walking-stick. For a second, Everett simply sat there, watching, but realising no-one was going to stop and help - indeed, people were stepping around the old man with looks of annoyance on their faces - he sighed, and got up. So much for the all-new, all-different Everett Thomas.
"Are you okay?" he asked. The old man had managed to push himself into a sitting position and was patting his pockets in a vaguely concerned way. Everett crouched down beside him.
"What? Oh, I'm fine, just a little shaken. Those scalliwags seemed to have taken my wallet too. What's the world coming to? It wasn't like this in my day, dear me no..." rambled the old man, still patting his pockets with a look of confusion in his faded blue eyes. Despite his manner, he was well-groomed: someone obviously took care to see his clothes fit well and his white beard was kept neat.
"There's a bench just over there. Perhaps you should sit down for a minute? I'll pick up your shopping, and you can mind mine," Everett suggested gently, helping the old man up and putting his walking stick in his hand.
"So kind of you, sonny. It's good to see a properly-raised young person in this day and age. Most of 'em are only interested in themselves. They wouldn't bother with an old duffer like me, except to knock me down and steal my wallet." Standing, he was surprisingly tall, and despite the ravages of age and the paunch beneath the duffel coat, his frame was still that of a strong man. Everett settled him down on the bench, and started stuffing parcels into the two string bags the man had dropped. There were a lot of them, all small and wrapped in Christmas paper, with small bows and cards.
"Looks like you're organised," Everett remarked as he chased the last present down: it had been kicked away from the rest. "Most people wouldn't think to get so many things gift-wrapped, but I guess it saves time."
"I’m not as organised as usual. Normally I wouldn't be here at all. I hate shopping malls, terrible, soulless places they are. Give me the corner store any day. But an unforeseen crisis arose, and the wife sent me down here on an emergency gift run."
"A friend of mine would agree with you. He says malls are sink-holes for negative energy, and they suck out your will to resist buying things. But it's not as if he's a bundle of joy himself. More like a walking angst zone." Everett chuckled. He didn't notice the brief smile that crossed the other's face.
"Maybe he should remember that bad little boys get pieces of coal from Father Christmas," was all he said, a twinkle in his eye. "So tell me, young man. You seem like an organised type yourself. What brings you to this particular sink-hole of negative energy so late in the season?" Everett pulled a face.
"Doing a favour for a friend. Again," he replied shortly, the smile slipping from his face. "Do you ever feel you're being taken advantage of because of your good nature?" he asked suddenly, and then immediately wished he could take the question back. He didn't want to spoil this nice old gent's Christmas any more than it already had been.
"Frequently," came the reply, "But I keep reminding myself that that's what a true friend is. Someone who does things for others without expecting anything in return. It's what Christmas is all about, celebrating friendship and love, and all those other things the greeting cards tell us." He winked at Everett. "I wouldn't let it get to you, son. We all like our efforts to be acknowledged, and one day they will. That's what all this," he made a sweeping gesture that included the people, the decorations, the carollers who had set up in the corner without Everett noticing, "That's what all this is for. To let the ones who mean most to us know how much you care."
Everett looked at the mall with new eyes. Sure, the screaming kids and the harried mothers and the bored teenagers were still there, but he could see beyond that. The mother waiting patiently in line with her child to see Santa, the child staring up at the Red-Suited One with huge round eyes. The couple gazing in the window of a jewelery shop, holding hands. The grandmotherly type walking out of the skateboard shop with an obvious skateboard wrapped in gift paper. And seeing this, Everett remembered why he'd always loved Christmas. Not for the food or the presents or for the Christmas specials on TV. For the people, and the joy he saw on their faces and felt in their auras. He turned to thank the old man, only to find he had gone. A single wrapped parcel lay on the seat, the name tag proclaiming in flowing letters, "Everett".
"Hey dude, watcha got?" Jubilee asked, plopping down on the bench beside him as he turned the small box over in his hands.
"Just a early Christmas present," Everett replied, smiling, "You ready to book?"
"Yeah, you bet. This late Christmas shopping thing sucks ass, ya know?" Together they gathered up all of Jubilee's purchases, and headed for the exit.
"Yeah, I know," Everett replied with heartfelt sincerity, "How about next year you come with me?"
"And miss out on the bargains? No way dude." Jubilee laughed. Then she looked up at Everett, a serious look incongruous on her normally cheerful face. "I really appreciate this, ya know that, don't ya?"
"I do now, J, and that's good enough for me."
