Important Note: I started working on a quiet revision of Blue Belle as a combination of Chanukah and 'congrats on surviving officer training' present for Meneldur. Given that it involves a character who exists mostly in the background, I didn't think it would be too hard… but I was wrong. Part of that has to do with me using her in at least one of the 'Director's Cut' scenes I'm adding, which has yet to come out of my brain right. The rest has to do with me not wanting to pulse a revised copy of the story - meant to fix spelling and grammar errors along with some poor word choice and bad HTML - and so what scenes I have revised have yet to hit the site. Accordingly, I'm going to need to ask you to humor me and make a mental adjustment or two to your mental perception of Betsy Braddock:
1.) Not a slut. Regan Wyngarde assumes the role of school bicycle over at Xavier's and Julian's on-again, off-again girlfriend.
2.) Things between Gwen and Betsy go - and end - much differently. They part amicably after a mutual loss of virginity, rather than Betsy using and cruelly discarding Gwen.
3.) Upon returning to a school, Betsy demands a favor from Emma in compensation for the injuries and embarrassment she sustained in Sunnydale. Emma tries to deflect her toward Jean and Scott, but Betsy cites the Deepest Pocket Doctrine as to why she'd rather have Emma in her debt. She asks for a simple repayment: a nice dinner out, since she doesn't find the school's food quality up to her standards. Emma agrees.
That brings us to now. Enjoy.
December 9, 2011
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters - Subterranean Level
Westchester, New York
The first thing that Betsy noticed when the elevator doors opened into the school's subterranean level was the low, thumping beat that ran all the way down the length of the hallway from the Danger Room to where she was standing. That in and of itself wasn't particularly noteworthy; despite sporting some of the most advanced computing and imaging technology on the planet, their simulator had notoriously bad soundproofing. No, it was more so who she was meeting - and the music being played - that made it a little odd. "You've got them all by the balls, causin' waterfalls, stone walls, bar brawls, climbin' stalls at concert halls."
Making her way down the hallway, Betsy stumbled to a stop in front of the Danger Room doors as they failed to open. After waiting for a second… and then a few seconds more for good measure… she frowned before leaning over and pressing her palm against the scanner. While it was possible to restrict access to the Danger Room during a session, it wasn't done terribly often for safety reasons if nothing else. Evidently Emma was serious about wanting some privacy for their discussion. Then the door finally opened, and Betsy understood why. "To you they crawl, body sprawl, smokin' Pall Malls, close call, stand tall, doll, you make them feel so small… and they love it!"
The Danger Room had been set to run in one of its most common configurations: a sleek, futuristic gym full of treadmills, stationary bicycles, free weights, weight machines, and assorted other fitness paraphernalia. Unlike the original, wholly physical exercise room it had replaced, the virtual version had equipment that could simply be relaunched when a powers mishap rendered something melted, disintegrated, frozen, torn apart, or otherwise unusable. Tonight, however, a new piece of equipment - if one could call it that - had been added to the program: a gleaming chrome pole. "The boys wanna be her, the girls wanna be her! The boys wanna be her, the girls wanna be her!"
And good Lord, Emma had magnificent leg strength. Betsy watched in disbelief as the blonde swung in slow circles around the pole, hanging upside down with her thighs as the only thing between her and a painful head-first plummet to the floor. Slowly running her hands down her sides, Emma eventually brought them down under her head to grab the pole, arresting her circular motion. Releasing her legs' grip on the pole, she let her body tip forward so her feet could drop to the floor, running her hands up the pole as she straightened up… only to pause as she spotted Betsy. "Elizabeth." "The boys wanna be her, the girls wanna be her! The boys wanna be her, I wanna be her! Yes, I do…"
Was that… was Emma actually blushing? Betsy couldn't help but grin at the sight; there was definite redness spreading across the older telepath's cheeks. Given that she had a bit of a reputation for being late, and had actually shown up a few minutes early for once in her life, Betsy suddenly found herself wondering if this was something other than a carefully choreographed show put on by Emma for some reason known only to the blonde. What it could be, she had no idea. One thing she did know? "Gallaf feddwl am lawer mwy o ffyrdd o hwyl i weithio ar eich hyblygrwydd…"
And now Emma's expression was straddling the line between embarrassed and confused as she straightened up, tugging a fluffy white scrunchy off her right wrist and using it to pull her hair back into a ponytail. "While that sounded vaguely Germanic, I have no idea what language it was much less what you just said." Well, she was in the ballpark… insofar as she was in the right language family. Then again, Betsy reminded herself, nobody was omnipotent. Not even her mentor, who did a very good impression of it sometimes. Her shields habitually relaxed around Emma, Betsy pushed a translation forward to meet the blonde's incoming probe… and then chuckled as Emma's expression shifted to decidedly exasperated. "Hmmph. 'I can think of much more fun ways to work on your flexibility' indeed. You're much more confident all of a sudden. More willing to be inappropriate, too. I'm not sure I like it."
"I'd make a joke about you rubbing off on me here, but that probably wouldn't help my case." Making her way over to the pole, Betsy ran her hand up and down it slowly before looking over at Emma. "For God's sake, Miss Frost. Here we are. You got me into your house. You give me a drink. You... put on music. Now you start opening up your personal life to me and tell me your husband won't be home for hours." Expression cycling from exasperated to confused and then back to exasperated, Emma rolled her eyes even as Betsy assumed her best scandalized face and let out a gasp, bringing one hand up to her chest. "Miss Frost, you're trying to seduce me!"
Taking a step back to put some distance between them, Emma scoffed. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, what was that? It sounded a bit like 'my deepest desire is for you to rewrite Miss Wyngarde's mind so she's madly in love with me, Professor'." Betsy shuddered at the threat; that would be a bit like dating Gwen's friend Harmony… and Brittany… together. Except worse. Regan was just… eugh. No. "That's what I thought. No, the reason you're here is because it's time for our teacher-student relationship to reach a new level." That did absolute nothing to curb her dirty- "An inversion." What? "I want you to teach me something."
Huh. Betsy could honestly say she had not seen that coming. '…said the blind porn star.' 'Oh my God, Rachel, go away!' 'Stop hitting on my mother. I don't want to end up being born a blonde amethyst transmorph in this world.' 'I dye my hair and you know it. How does that second part even make sense?' 'It could happen.' 'Go. Away.'
One look at her mentor told Betsy all she needed to know: Emma had heard the entire conversation between her daughter and the Briton. Swell. Rather than acknowledge that fact, though, Betsy opted to push onward. "Right then. Two questions. One: what can I of all people teach you? And two: what's in it for me?"
Emma took a moment to compose her thoughts before closing the distance between them once more. "I've seen what you can do in the Danger Room, and what you did in Sunnydale. You can combine this…" Pausing, she used her right hand to cover Betsy's left. "With this." Her free hand rose to brush against the purple-haired girl's forehead. "Charles is not a fighter for obvious reasons, and neither is Jean. Others here are fighters but not telepaths. Right now, if my telepathy fails me, all I can do is turn into diamond, flail like a drunken brawler, and hope that my opponent can't simply pick me up and carry me away. You… are going to help me change that."
Yes, Betsy thought with a snort, because 'certified self-defense trainer' was a skill she had listed on her non-existent résumé. She couldn't even just pack up her memories and knowledge from her own lessons and stuff them into Emma's mind; while their height difference was minimal, that was pretty much the only measurement they had in common. To say nothing of differences in reach, flexibility, stamina… no, this would have to be done the hard way, she decided. Which was the long way. Which brought her back to… "What's in it for me?"
"None of the first… eight ideas to have crossed your mind, that's for certain." Bugger. She was usually much better at hiding those sort of thoughts. Chuckling softly at the look of consternation on Betsy's face, Emma let her left hand drift down to brush against the girl's cheek. "Number nine is amusing but impractical, while number ten is… doable. Tomorrow evening, perhaps?" Betsy thought for a moment before nodding; her schedule was surprisingly clear for a Saturday night. "Good. I've found a Greek restaurant that you should like. I'd ask if you have any preference for the dress I'm now having to buy you, but most of your generation seems to be singularly lacking in taste. Perhaps black? It'll inevitably contrast nicely with whatever I wear…"
That didn't sound altogether terrible to Betsy; black would set off her pale skin and purple hair nicely. And contrast Emma's white dress, as she'd already noted. "You'd never let yourself be seen with an ugly date, so I'm sure whatever you pick out will make me look good." Emma nodded and then let out a shriek as Betsy lunged forward, tackling her to the floor. They impacted with an unnaturally loud thump, owing wholly to Emma shifting forms in mid-fall. One glittering brow rose, making Betsy chuckle. "Maybe we should make Saturday dinners a standing date. I have a feeling this is going to take a lot longer - and a lot more effort on my end - than you think."
Emma shifted back, staring up at Betsy in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me. Your idea of teaching is to just randomly assault me?"
"What, do you think people are going to warn you before they attack you? Ask if two in the afternoon is convenient or if you'd rather them wait till three?" Betsy shook her head before rolling off of Emma, hopping to her feet before offering the prone blonde a hand up as well. She gave Emma almost a full minute to recover… and then promptly tackled her again. As they hit the floor again, Betsy burst into peals of laughter. "Seriously?" Emma just scowled up at the Briton petulantly as she returned to her flesh and blood form. "Oh stop that. Believe me, I'm not enjoying this any more than you are."
Shooting a glance down at where her breasts were pressed rather firmly against Betsy's, Emma let out a snort. "Why don't I believe you?"
Actually, she'd been referring to the fact that landing on top of a woman made of diamond wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world… but Betsy was willing to admit that the situation did have its perks.
Back to Kate and Buffy next chapter - complete with a guest appearance by a previously unseen member of the Marvel universe - and then we're off to Chapter 40. It's date night times two: we'll see a bit of Emma and Betsy, along with Gwen and Michelle's first date. Which happens to be a quadruple date with three other couples: Brittany and Santana, Cordelia and… someone, and Aphrodesia and… someone who's not Cordelia. And for those of you who didn't realize who the Mayor was talking to back in Chapter 36? I have just four words for you."I’m the Juggernaut, bitch!"