Michael - Mickey

The heat wave had turned the X-Mansion into a gilded oven. Even with the state-of-the-art cooling systems humming at maximum capacity, the air in Westchester felt thick enough to chew, a suffocating blanket of ninety-nine-degree humidity that clung to your skin. It was the kind of heat that made your very marrow feel sticky.

Nights were objectively worse. The dormitories had become a sprawl of discarded sheets and kicked-off blankets, the air barely moving. There was a strange, frantic honesty to the way everyone moved through the halls, desperate to shed anything that kept the stifling warmth against their skin. For you, the relief of having had your top surgery years ago—no longer needing to worry about the constrictive misery of a binder—was a blessing, even if the sweat still pooled on your chest. For Anna the relief of not having to tuck—was her own blessing.

In the quiet of your room, the silence was broken only by the rhythmic hum of the vents. Anna Marie lay beside you, a powerhouse of muscle and warmth, though her eyes were soft with the exhaustion of the heat. She had spent the last three nights practically glued to your side, a silent plea for the unnatural, refreshing chill that radiated from your skin. You were a living, breathing air conditioner, your body perpetually coated in a fine, frosted sheen that turned your touch into a sanctuary.

You woke in the dead of night, the air heavy in your lungs. Your shirt was a damp, clinging second skin, despite the layer of frost you’d unconsciously manifested to keep your temperature down. Beside you, Anna was pressed flush against your side, her gloved hands gripping your arm, her face buried near your shoulder to catch the cold. You moved with practiced caution, sitting up and peeling the sodden shirt away, tossing it toward the haphazard mountain of her clothes at the foot of the bed. Somewhere in the hazy, heat-addled hours, you had shed your boxers too, leaving you bare against the cool relief of your own ice-touched skin.

When you drifted back off, it was into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

You woke again to a weight that felt both grounding and immense. Anna had shifted during the night, moving from your side to splayed directly across your chest. Her 6’2” frame was a marvel of strength, and at a significantly shorter height, you felt completely eclipsed by her. Her feet dangled off the edge of the mattress, and her muscular weight pressed you firmly into the sheets. It was impossible to breathe properly, but as you looked at the way her hair fanned out against your skin, you decided there were far worse ways to go than being smothered by the woman you were hopelessly in love with.

"Mornin', sugah," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. She didn’t shift an inch, her head resting heavily in the crook of your neck. "I swear, this place is hotter'n Georgia asphalt in July. I'm fixin' to melt right into these sheets."

She let out a frustrated huff, finally pushing herself up on her forearms. The motion sent a shiver through you, the change in pressure making your icy skin flare slightly with a gentle, crystalline mist.

You managed a weak, lopsided smile, looking up at her. Even with her hair a mess and the sweat highlighting the curve of her shoulders, she was breathtaking. "I'm tryin' my best, Anna," you sighed, your voice raspy. "But I don't think even my powers can win this fight. I’m half-tempted to go find Bobby and see if we can start up a mini ice age in the common room just to get a decent breath of air."

Anna let out a low, throaty laugh that seemed to vibrate right through the mattress. She finally shifted, gracefully swinging her legs over you until she was straddling your waist. Her thighs were solid, firm, and grounding; even through the haze of the heat, you felt that familiar, exhilarating jolt of affection in your chest.

"I’m sure it won't take much coaxin' to get Bobby on board," she hummed, her eyes dancing with amusement. "That boy’s about as desperate for a breeze as I am. But how’s about we start with a cold shower? I’m startin' to think I might actually combust."

She leaned down, pressing a lingering, soft kiss against your cheek. Her lips grazed the thin, delicate layer of ice you’d instinctively kept there, and she let out a contented sigh at the contact before sliding off you and the bed. The loss of her weight felt like a sudden, jarring change in pressure, but you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you watched her move toward the dresser.

She pulled out a simple tank top and some loose shorts, pausing to look back at you over her shoulder. The morning light caught the curve of her back and the way her hair fell in loose, unruly waves. "You gonna join me, or are ya plannin' on turnin' into a puddle right there on the sheets?"

"Yes, ma'am," you chuckled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You spent a few minutes quickly smoothing out the tangled mess of sheets and gathering the discarded clothes from the floor, trying to bring some semblance of order to the room before leaving it behind.

By the time you reached the bathroom, Anna had already adjusted the knobs, the shower head hissing as it poured out a steady, frigid stream. You stepped in after her, the cold water acting like a shock to your system, though your ice-cold skin welcomed it instantly.

Showering with Anna was always a delicate dance, a constant awareness of her powers and the barrier that kept you apart. You stood behind her, the water cascading over her powerful shoulders. She was statuesque, towering over you, and you reached up to take the shampoo from her hand. You insisted on this part every time—washing her hair was the one way you could nurture her without the fear of her absorption pulling at your energy. You massaged the suds into her scalp, your movements slow and deliberate, while the cold water rinsed the heat of the night away. She leaned back into your touch, her eyes closing, a rare moment of complete, unburdened peace on her face.

"You're a lifesaver, darlin'," she murmured, her accent thick and honey-slow as she turned her head just enough to catch your eye. "I don't know how I'd survive this summer without ya."

Once you were both dressed, the chill from the shower clung to you for a while, providing a fleeting, blissful immunity to the oppressive temperature outside. But the moment you stepped into the hallway, the heat hit you like a physical blow.

The common area was a portrait of misery. The mansion felt like a crowded, steam-filled locker room. Angel was draped over Bobby—who looked like he was vibrating with the effort of trying to keep himself from melting—much the way Anna clung to you. Illyana sat in the corner with a scowl so sharp it could cut glass, looking ready to snap at the first person who dared breathe in her direction. Scott, ever the stoic, was staring blankly at a wall; it was impossible to tell if he was contemplating a tactical solution or simply waiting for the sweet release of a heat-induced fainting spell. Jean was vigorously fanning herself with a discarded Time magazine, while Kitty had her entire face pressed directly into the oscillating blades of a small desk fan, letting it ruffle her hair.

"Lord have mercy," Anna whispered, her voice tight with sympathy as she squeezed your hand. "It’s a regular graveyard in here. Reckon we should start that ice age before Scott starts seein' mirages?"

You looked at the suffering group, then back at Anna, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I think the ice age is officially overdue.”

Before you could take a step toward Bobby, the heavy double doors of the common room swung open. The sudden shift in energy was palpable. In walked Professor Xavier and Erik, moving with a maddening, graceful ease, as if they were strolling through a breezy spring day rather than a suffocating oven. While the rest of the team looked like they’d been dragged through a swamp, the two men looked perfectly composed, not a single bead of sweat on their brows.

Every eye in the room snapped to them—resentment, longing, and pure confusion warring on everyone’s faces. Charles offered a serene, grandfatherly smile that seemed entirely too bright for the current mood.

"It appears everyone is finding the interior climate... less than ideal," Charles noted, his voice smooth.

Erik didn’t bother with the pleasantries. He stood with his arms crossed, glancing around the room with a smirk that bordered on arrogant. "The mansion does have an Olympic-sized swimming pool, last I checked. Or, by all means, continue to wallow in misery until the heat breaks. It is quite the spectacle."

The room erupted into sudden, frantic motion. It was as if a starting pistol had been fired. Angel immediately snatched Bobby’s hand, practically dragging the shivering ice-man toward the exit. The rest of the team scrambled, discarding magazines and fans as they bolted for the locker rooms.

You stood there, still anchored by Anna’s hand, when you felt a sudden change in the atmosphere. The "girls" of the X-Men—Jean, Kitty, Jubilee, and Rogue—had descended upon you.

"Oh, thank god," Jubilee chirped, wiping sweat from her forehead. "You're the only one who can drive that SUV, and I am not getting in a car with Logan today. He’s in a mood."

"We need supplies," Jean added, though she looked slightly frazzled, fanning herself with her hand. "And swimsuits. The ones in the store cupboard are from the nineties, I swear."

Anna squeezed your hand, her eyes bright with a sudden, mischievous spark. "You’re comin’ with us, right, darlin’? You ain’t gonna leave us to the mercy of the mall crowds alone, are ya?"

You looked at the expectant faces surrounding you. How could you say no? Especially when the thought of any of them behind the wheel of a car was enough to give you a headache. "Alright, alright," you laughed, raising your hands in surrender. "Let me grab my keys."

"Yes!" Kitty cheered, already heading for the stairs. "Five minutes, everyone! Meet at the garage!"

Anna didn't let go of your hand. She practically towed you toward your shared room, her stride long and purposeful. The excitement radiating off her was infectious, her southern drawl quickening as she began to pepper you with questions.

"What d'ya think, sugah? Should I go for somethin' classic? Maybe a nice deep green? Or maybe somethin' with a bit more flair?" She turned, walking backward as she pulled you along, her brow furrowed in playful concentration.

You chuckled, catching up to her pace. "Anything you wear is gonna look good, Anna. You know that."

She let out a soft, pleased laugh, bumping her shoulder against yours. "Flatterer. But wait—what about us? You think we should get matchin' ones? Not like, *tacky* matching, but maybe like... coordinated? A bit of ice blue for you, maybe somethin' that matches the contrast?"

She stepped into your room, moving straight for your bag to grab your keys, her movements fluid and confident. She turned to face you, her expression turning surprisingly soft. "It’d be nice, wouldn't it? Bein' able to match, even just for the day. Makes the world feel a little smaller, a little more like it’s just us."

You felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the temperature. You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I think that’s a perfect idea, Anna Marie. Whatever you want."

"Good," she beamed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She leaned in, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your nose. "Now come on, let's get movin' before I decide to jump into the nearest fountain fully clothed.”

As soon as you killed the engine and stepped out into the humid, shimmering heat of the parking lot, you were essentially the most popular person in the group.

Kitty was practically vibrating with energy, having successfully coerced Magik into coming along. It was painfully obvious that Kitty just wanted to watch Illyana try on swimsuits, but Illyana seemed to tolerate the theater of it all with a sharp, guarded smirk that never quite left her face.

Inside the store, the fluorescent lights and piped-in pop music felt like a different world from the sweltering tension of the mansion. Anna didn’t let go of your hand once. She held it with a possessive, grounding grip, her thumb tracing the frosted skin of your knuckles. Jubilee and Jean had split off toward the home goods section, determined to find pool supplies that hadn’t been around since the Reagan administration.

That left you, Anna, Kitty, and Illyana in the chaotic, brightly lit aisles of a high-end swimwear boutique.

"Alright," Kitty chirped, tossing a literal armful of neon-colored fabric at you. "You're the official gear-holder. Try to look like you're having fun, yeah?"

You sighed, bracing yourself as the weight of various swimsuits piled up in your arms. Illyana simply dumped her stack onto your pile without a word, her eyes fixed on Kitty with an amused, slightly predatory glint.

Anna, meanwhile, was lingering by a display, her expression thoughtful. She held up a pair of deep, midnight-blue bikini bottoms—simple, elegant, and decidedly lacking a matching top. She leaned in, her voice dropping into that familiar, velvet-thick Southern lilt.

"Humor me, sugah," she giggled, a playful glint in her eyes as she held them out toward your chest, measuring them against your frame. "Just imagine the contrast. That deep navy against your skin? It’d be a sight."

You looked down at the fabric, then back at her, giving her a look that was equal parts exasperated and hopelessly charmed. You knew exactly where this was going. She loved teasing you, testing the boundaries of how much you’d go along with her whims. "Anna Marie, I really don't think a bikini is quite the look I was goin' for today," you said, trying to keep a straight face despite the way your heart did a quiet somersault.

She stepped closer, invading your personal space in the best way possible. Her hand brushed against your arm, her gloves cool against your forearm. "Oh, hush now. You lookin' at these like they’re gonna bite ya. Don't be such a prude, darlin'. I just wanna see how the colors play off that ice-skin of yours. Is that so much to ask?"

She winked, a slow, deliberate movement that made your resolve crumble entirely. She knew you couldn't say no to her when she turned the charm up like that.

"Fine," you muttered, shifting the pile of hangers in your arms. "But if I look ridiculous, I'm holdin' you personally responsible for my dignity."

Anna let out a bright, melodic laugh that turned a few heads in the aisle. She reached out, patting your cheek—careful of the layer of frost you always kept there—and leaned in close to your ear. "Your dignity's perfectly safe with me, honey. Besides, we’re lookin’ for somethin’ that matches, remember? Can't have you lookin’ all plain while I’m standin’ next to ya lookin’ like a million bucks."

She turned back to the rack, her hips swaying with that characteristic, confident grace. "Now, come on. Kitty’s waitin' on us to pick out the rest of the stash, and if we don't hurry, I reckon Illyana's gonna lose her patience and teleport the whole store to the backyard."

You shook your head, a smile finally breaking through, and followed her deeper into the maze of racks. The heat of the day felt miles away, replaced entirely by the gravity of her presence.

The pile in your arms had grown to an almost comical size, resembling a textile-based mountain you were forced to navigate. When Jean and Jubilee reappeared, they didn’t offer any relief; instead, they simply added their own haul of bags—presumably containing the floaties and towels—to your burden, offering nothing but a breezy bright smile before vanishing back into the aisles.

You didn't mind the weight, though. Honestly, it was a welcome diversion. You found a sturdy bench positioned strategically in front of the changing room corridor, sinking into it with a huff of relief. You’d spent the last week getting pummeled by Logan in the Danger Room, his idea of "bonding" involving throwing you through reinforced walls until you were black and blue. This—sitting in the cool, artificially crisp air of the mall, waiting for the girls to come out and show off their finds—was a luxury by comparison. It felt natural, a quiet rhythm you’d settled into that felt infinitely more you than trying to force yourself into the role of the hyper-masculine brawler.

"Alright," Kitty’s voice called out from behind the curtain. "Prepare to be dazzled."

Kitty emerged first, stepping out with a grin. She was wearing a sleek, vibrant purple one-piece that featured daring, geometric cutouts along her sides, perfectly suited for someone who could phase through solid matter. Illyana followed close behind, looking every bit the fierce, dark aesthetic she favored—an all-black bikini with striking, thin orange trim that highlighted her sharp features.

"Well?" Illyana challenged, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, her gaze daring you to find fault.

"You both look great," you said with a sincere smile. Jubilee bounced out next, looking like a neon sign in an obnoxiously bright, high-waisted pink bikini. She did a quick, cheerful spin, the fabric shimmering under the harsh store lights. "Too much? Or just enough?"

"It's loud, Jubes," you laughed. "But it fits you."

Jean followed, stepping out with a poise that made everything look elegant. She’d chosen a rich, deep emerald green one-piece that complemented her hair beautifully. She looked at you expectantly, and you nodded. "That's definitely the winner, Jean. Very classic."

Then, the curtain to the final stall pushed open. Anna Marie stepped out, and for a moment, the ambient noise of the mall seemed to fade into the background. She was wearing a vibrant, sunshine-yellow one-piece, but the design was daring—so high-cut and plunging that it barely left more to the imagination than a traditional bikini. True to form, she had her signature denim dixie shorts pulled on over it, the contrast of the soft yellow fabric against the worn, rugged denim hitting exactly the right note.

She caught your eye, a slow, playful smirk tugging at her lips. She did a small, deliberate pose, letting the straps of the suit rest just so on her shoulders.

"What d'ya think, darlin'?" she asked, her voice dipping into that soft, melodic drawl. "Is it too much, or am I just bringin' the heat?"

You felt the tips of your ears heat up, and for the first time all day, you didn't even notice the temperature. "Anna Marie," you started, finding yourself momentarily struck. You looked at the matching trunks she’d picked out for you, still sitting in the pile on your lap, and then back at her. "I think you’re gonna make sure nobody looks at the pool all day."

She laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made your chest ache with affection. She walked over, placing a hand on your knee, her glove slightly cold against your skin. "Good. That’s exactly what I was goin' for. Now, quit starin' and go put yours on. I wanna see if we look like a pair, or if I’m just showin’ you up.”

The drive back to the mansion was a blur of laughter and the lingering chill of the mall’s AC, but the moment you pulled into the drive, the oppressive heat of the afternoon slammed back into you. The team scrambled toward their respective dorms with the frantic energy of people who knew the pool was their only salvation.

You and Anna Marie, however, had the right idea. You’d stopped by the kitchen on the way, snagging a large, condensation-slicked glass jar of sweet tea, a couple of plastic cups, and enough ice to keep the drink—and you—perfectly chilled. You bypassed the main chaos of the pool deck, where Angel and Bobby were already splashing around like kids, and headed for the far end. Here, the pool transitioned into a quiet, shaded corner tucked away from the shouting and the frantic splashing.

You set the jar down on a small side table and claimed two lounge chairs. You didn't waste time, sliding into your chair and turning immediately onto your side, propping your head up with your hand. You weren't even trying to hide it; your eyes were locked on Anna.

She stood for a moment, the sun catching the golden tones of her skin, before she reached up to unknot the gauzy, oversized cover-up she’d thrown on for the trip home. With a fluid, graceful motion, she tossed it over the back of her chair. She looked effortless in the yellow suit, the vibrant color contrasting beautifully against her skin. She kept her back to you at first, reaching up to adjust her hair, her muscles shifting beneath her skin in that way that always made your breath catch.

She knew you were watching. You could tell by the slight smirk playing on her lips and the way she deliberately took her time, smoothing down the fabric of her suit and adjusting her stance. She was playing to the audience of one, enjoying the weight of your gaze just as much as you enjoyed the view.

"You plannin' on blinkin' anytime soon, sugah?" she asked, her voice a low, teasing hum. She didn't turn around immediately, but you could hear the smile in her words. "Or are ya just gonna sit there and memorise every square inch of me?"

You didn't look away, your gaze tracing the line of her shoulder down to the powerful curve of her hip. "I’m doin' a bit of both," you admitted, your voice rougher than you intended. "Hard to look at anything else when you’re standin' right there."

Anna let out a soft, pleased laugh, the sound melodic against the distant splashes of the others. She finally turned to face you, settling into the lounge chair across from yours. She tucked one leg beneath her, leaning toward you, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She looked radiant, the sunlight reflecting off the water behind her, but all you could focus on was that look she was giving you—that soft, possessive expression she only saved for you.

"You’re a terrible flirt," she teased, though her hand reached out to brush the back of her fingers against your arm, right where your ice-touched skin was at its coolest. "But I reckon I don’t mind one bit."

She reached for the jar of tea, pouring a small amount into a cup and handing it to you, her fingers lingering against yours for a second longer than necessary. "Drink up, darlin'. You’re lookin’ a little bit peaked. Even you need to stay hydrated when it’s this hot."

You took the cup, the cold glass a sharp contrast to the warmth of her touch. You leaned back, watching her as she took a slow sip of her own tea, her eyes never leaving yours. In this little pocket of shade, with the faint scent of chlorine and sunscreen hanging in the air, the stifling heat of the mansion felt a thousand miles away. For now, it was just the two of you, the cold comfort of your powers, and the quiet electricity that seemed to hum between you every time she looked your way.

The sun began its slow descent, bleeding a bruised purple and burnt orange across the Westchester sky. The frantic energy of the day had finally evaporated along with the worst of the heat. One by one, the rest of the X-Men had retreated inside, leaving the pool deck in a heavy, humid silence that was broken only by the rhythmic dripping of water from the diving board and the distant song of crickets.

You were still reclined in your lounge chair, the residual chill of your ice-skin keeping the oppressive evening air at bay. Anna was stretched out in the chair beside yours, her skin glistening with a thin veil of water that caught the dying light of the sun. She looked lethargic, her eyelids heavy, but there was an unmistakable spark of mischief lingering in her gaze.

Without a word, she rose, her movements liquid and slow. She didn't head for the mansion; instead, she stepped over to your chair and straddled your waist, her weight settling comfortably against you. You instinctively reached up, your hands finding the familiar firm curve of her hips, anchoring her in place. She looked down at you, that signature smirk curling the corner of her mouth—the look she always wore right before she proposed an idea that would undoubtedly get you both in trouble.

"What?" you hummed, your voice dropping to a gravelly register. You looked up at her, your heart hammering against your ribs. "That look says you're up to somethin'. What could you possibly be thinkin' about?"

She didn’t answer. She just held your gaze, her eyes searching yours with a quiet, intense focus that made the air feel suddenly thin. Her hands moved with agonizing deliberation, hovering over the waistband of your trunks. With a slow, steady pull, she undid the knot.

Before you could even process the sudden vulnerability, she stood up. She didn't look back, but you could see the playful challenge in her shoulders as she reached behind her and shifted the straps of her yellow one-piece. In one fluid, practiced motion, she slipped out of the suit, the fabric bunching in her hands for only a second before she tossed it directly at your face.

She laughed—a bright, crystalline sound that echoed off the pool tiles—and then she was airborne.

She hit the water with a clean, satisfying splash, the surface tension shattering into a thousand diamonds. You were left sitting in the lounge chair, the fabric of her suit draped over your lap, watching the ripples slowly settle in the dark, inviting water. The humidity seemed to sharpen, clinging to you, but the thrill of what she’d just done sent a jolt of adrenaline through your system that was far more effective than any ice-skin trick.