Archive Mutants & Masterminds: Future Imperfect - [Fic] Jealous Much? (Complete)

[Travis Kincaid]

6 a.m.

Travis and the young woman stumbled up the stairs to, what he was assured, was her empty apartment. "I shwear my roomie won' be home," the woman slurred, she was leaning heavily on Travis, one arm around his other, the other inside his shirt. "An' if she is, mebbe she'll join us!" Travis merely nodded, trying to direct the girl up the stairs. The apartment building was horseshoe shaped, with a large courtyard in the center. Stairs and walkways on the outside led to a number of doors adorned with nothing more than an apartment number. A cinder-block fortress housing students of the nearby University and others.

He'd picked up the girl, who's name escaped him now, at a club earlier. Drinks, more drinks, and a bunch of what the college crowd called dancing had led to more grind than bump and when they were finally too tired to continue they had moved from the club to his Porsche and come here. Dressed in things tight, torn, and short and possessed of a wonderfully slim figure accented with an ample bossum she'd attracted his attention almost immediately. She'd kept it with her clear interest in doing more than just bumping and grinding.

"Katy shouldn't be in though," she continued absently. Normally Travis would have silenced the girl's drunken prattle with a deftly placed kiss, getting the evening's festivities off to an early start. This morning however he was staring past the courtyard at the parking lot. There was a beat to hell Range Rover that was parked in the third row. The right rear tail light was missing; the same as Ronnie's beat up Rover. He was starting to wonder what she'd be doing at a place this this, at an hour like this, when a car entered the parking lot, splashing the Range Rover with its headlights. Travis laughed at himself. The Ranger Rover was white, not tan, and clearly not Ronnie's.

"Iz jus' down here," the girl said, tugging at Travis. He shook his head, trying to recall this girl's name. Rose? Daisy? Travis knew it was a flower. He shrugged, it wouldn't matter in a few minutes, and would matter less in a few hours. She pulled his head around, "You still wanna, right?" She suddenly seemed less drunk, and more innocent, though the multiple facial piercings and the unnatural color of her hair said otherwise.

"Of course, lead on my dear," he replied, smiling his best and moving once more in the direction that she wanted.

[z-Ronnie Collins]

Ronnie stirred slowly, blinking against a harsh sun. She wasn’t sure why the sun was in her face; her bedroom windows faced west, not east. She shouldn’t be getting blinded like this.

She also shouldn’t be naked.

That awareness snapped her into complete wakefulness and Ronnie lifted her head. She was in a decent bedroom done in standard apartment white and beige. Someone had nicely decorated in college chic, straight from Target. Whomever was the designer, they had a thing for cranes; the long-necked birds were everywhere in the décor. The colors were oranges and greens that were muted enough to be tasteful and not garish.

Ronnie looked the other way and found the room’s owner. In bed. Naked. The girl was lying on her back, the covers kicked over onto Ronnie. Panic set in as Ronnie slid to the floor, trying to find her clothing or recall why she was here. The memories she came up with were disjointed and fuzzy; Ronnie scowled when she crawled around the bed and saw the three empty wine bottles. That would explain the fucked-up memories; the dominant had been drunk last night.

Who had been dominant last? Ronnie racked her brain, which was starting to pound with a familiar headache. And a fuckin’ hangover. Fuckin’ fantastic. God-damned Tyler!

She took a deep breath to try to calm herself. Her priority was getting the fuck outta here; let Tyler responsible clean up his damned mess. So to do that, she needed clothing.

Nothing around here was hers. There was nothing male in the room and Ronnie reassessed her assumption. Fuckin’ Celeste! Lena didn’t like women, Rebecca didn’t do one-night stands and that dress looked exactly like something the oldest Et-al would wear. It was also in Celeste’s size, which meant it was going to cover Ronnie’s leg.

Ronnie gave the woman in bed an assessing glance, but from her position at the foot of the bed it was like a shot from a porno called Unconscious College Girls. Ronnie winced as she looked away, but she now had hope that the girl was closer to her size. Ronnie got to her feet and raced over to the closet, pulling open the doors. She rifled through the pants and shirts, selecting a pair of jeans that were probably the girl’s ‘fat jeans’ and a t-shirt that proclaimed “Save a VIRGIN Do Me Instead”. No comforting cigar, no sunglasses to hide behind – just righteous anger at someone she couldn’t even strangle with her own hands.

Ronnie snatched the flip flops from the shoe rack and slipped out of the room. The apartment was about what she expected; rental-nice with beige and white, while yet more crane prints offered spots of color. For a lesbian, Ronnie mused as she tiptoed through the apartment, she sure has a thing for phallic beaked birds.

Ronnie slipped out the door, clutching the flip flops. I fucking hate my life, she snarled as she eased the door closed. She slipped on the stupid plastic shoes and straightened, running fingers through her hair. When she saw the couple in the hallway, she stopped, frozen, her fingers tangled in her purple tangles. She wanted to say something, but all that came was the heated flush that crawled up her face.

Click to reveal.. (Semi-NSFW)

Here's the shirt - its awesomeness must be seen:

[Travis Kincaid]

Up ahead a door opened, somebody slipped out, flip-flops in hand. Travis smirked, "Looks like your neighbor got lucky. Somebody's doing the walk of sha-" He cut off mid word, his eye growing larger, as he recognized Ronnie. She closed the door behind her before putting the shoes on and turning toward them to leave. Travis recognized her easily, even before she'd turned around, she was his only friend in the world, or at least the only one he remembered. The clothes were clearly not hers, especially the tee shirt, which sported a slogan that Travis wholeheartedly approved of. She looked up and saw him, saw them, as her hand was passing through he purple hair.

Travis smiled, the horny young thing next to him momentarily forgotten. Even as Ronnie's face flushed deep red Travis was waving a free hand cheerfully, "Hey Ronnie, fancy meeting you here!" She froze, her jaw churning, looking for something to say, but finding no words.

"Trav, who's the lesbian?" the punk rocker asked, peering up at him, an expression of irritation painted clear as day on her face. Travis tried to protest, and Ronnie tried to shrink, or turn invisible, or slip back into the locked apartment behind her. "My neighbor is as lesbian as they come. Not a butch dyke or anything, but she's so lesbian she won't even use a dildo."

It was Travis' turn to be speechless, his head toggling between Ronnie and his paramour. Lesbian? "Lesbian?" He looked at her clothes again, they were not her clothes, but they were feminine, the tee shirt was especially obviously a girl's babydoll cut. "Ronnie?" he said not sure what else to say.

[z-Ronnie Collins]

“This i-i-isn’t what you think.” Ronnie wasn’t the fastest with words, or the quickest to recover from a set-back. That single sentence was all she stammered out. And this was about as bad as it could get for her emotionally – that is, until she actually saw the woman Thomas was with. Saw the hand in the shirt, still caressing his skin. Saw that she was smaller and more finely featured than Ronnie. Saw her hair was dyed purple and her contact lenses were a bright lavender hue. Ronnie felt like someone had punched her in the gut.

“What?” the girl said snidely, sneering at Ronnie. “You weren’t eating my neighbor out like snow cone?”

Ronnie’s temper was never good, so on days like this, it tended to flare higher. The mutant’s blush blazed but not with embarrassment; she took one step toward the girl. “Whoa, easy there,” Travis said as he eased between them, knowing what that look meant.

Ronnie stopped. Hitting the girl would be out of line; she was a civilian and Ronnie could kill her without even meaning to. Reining in her temper she managed, “Who’s your friend, Trav?”

“I’m Violet,” the girl said, stepping around Travis. She said something else, but Ronnie couldn’t hear her over the blood rushing in her ears. It was like being punched all over again, only in the face. The tall mutant stared at Travis, wondering if he did this a lot, wondering why he was doing this at all. Did her continued refusals wreck his ego so badly he had to find a stand-in?

“Hey,” Violet said, snapping her fingers in Ronnie’s face, jerking her out of her fugue. Unaware that she was seconds away from losing those fingers, she said, “So, did you have a fun night with my neighbor?”

“I have to go.” Ronnie’s voice sounded like it was coming to her ears through cotton. “Gotta go home.” Need a shower, need to kill something. Or cry. Figure out which later.

[Travis Kincaid]

Travis was confused. Ronnie didn't usually get embarrassed about much, and being gay wasn't really something for her to be embarrassed about; it did explain why she'd refused him all those times however. He put his hand out, grabbing her arm, "Ronnie, wait, I- ... What's wrong?"

"Yeah, Ronnie, what's wrong?" Violet taunted, slipping her arms around Travis and putting one hand into his shirt and the other into his pants. Travis squirmed, feeling oddly uncomfortable despite how enjoyable it should have been. "Jealous Much? Rather have some meant instead of fish?" Reflex made Ronnie turn and look. She saw the girl all but molesting Travis as he writhed in her arms.

[z-Ronnie Collins]

"Jealous? Of you? Not quite, toots," Ronnie snarled. She twisted her arm out of Travis' hand and took three quick steps back to Violet. Punching her was a physical desire, but Ronnie didn't want to kill her - though the bitch was working up to that point. Grabbing her hair, Ronnie jerked back and down, ripping her off Travis. He hissed as things in his pants were moved without care to their sensitivity.

Violet hit her knees, squawking in outrage. "I pity you," Ronnie hissed, leaning over her. "You're some pissant child picking up guys in a bar, telling yourself that he might so charmed that he'll come back but knowing in your heart that he'll never call you again. You're a one-time sperm dropbox, sweetheart and everyone here knows it."

She released the woman's hair and faced Travis. "You pick up a mini-Ronnie and don't wonder if I might be made uncomfortable by that? That it might be embarrassing for me to know that since you can't convince me to bed you that you'll fuck a silver medal instead? That it might hurt my feelings that you're plugging a cheap, poorly-dyed version of me? Did any of this ever occur to you!? No! Because you're a jerk!" She hit him with all her strength, even knowing that she wasn't going to hurt him. Her fist connected with his face and she saw the ripple of his power redistributing the force of her blow into the environment. "Selfish!" Her other fist popped in the cheek, to no effect. "You only think with your cock!" Her knee slammed into said cock; Travis flinched in reaction rather than pain. "So now do you know what's wrong?!"

[Travis Kincaid]

"Umm, ow?" Travis said, apparently more confused than wounded. As Ronnie had anticipated Travis was unharmed, he barely even moved in reaction. Violet looked wide eyed at Travis, amazed by his apparent resillience. "Ronnie, I don't ... I mean she doesn't ... Just because she has purple hair doesn't mean she's some kind of surrogate you." He shook his head, "What's this all about really?"

"Trav you stupid dick, this isn't just some blonde or brunette, how many people have purple hair like mine?" Ronnie was furious, shaking visibly.

"Oh ... I hadn't-"

"And her name is Violet to boot? That's what you call me Travis! I thought that meant something!"

"Woah, woah, woah," Violet interjected, "Same hair, and the same name?" She stepped next to Ronnie, "You were trying to get me as a consolation prize you jackass!"

Travis stepped back, reeling from the verbal assault in a way that he hadn't from the physical one. Ignoring the punk teen who mattered only for the moment, he focused on Ronnie, his confusion giving way first to embarrassment and then to anger of his own. "What does it matter if she is? Hmm? You've rejected me the few times I've made advances and you've told me that you'd rejected me every time before that. If you aren't interested then what does it matter who I screw?"

[z-Ronnie Collins]

"You cannot be this stupid!" Ronnie barked. It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt what was really on her heart, but there was no way in hell she'd admit it right now, not in these clothes, and not in front of her Mini-Me. "C'mon, Travis, you know you're hot. Any woman who didn't hate blondes is gonna wanna fuck you. But I've seen how you talk about those women, I've heard your conquest stories and I won't be another notch on your belt for a few hours of fun. When we were partners, I didn't want to mess with that relationship. Now we're friends; sex, the kind of sex you have, would ruin that!

"But this is just insulting and if you really did it unconsciously, then you need to get your head on straight!" Ronnie continued, getting up in his face. This wasn't unusual; they'd done this dance before over mission plans. Ronnie always exploded, got it out of her system and then they could reach an agreement. But this time felt different; it was personal, and there was a level of hurt and anger he hadn't seen from Ronnie before. "It doesn't matter who you screw, because they don't matter, even to you. And I thought I did matter."

"I'm not putting up with this," Violet proclaimed, turning away. "Go work out your issues on someone else. I've got better things to do!"

Travis glared after her but didn't try to stop her, an action which spoke loudly to both women. "Ronnie-"

"What, you're sorry? What do you think you can say to make this okay?" Ronnie asked. "This is only one step up from slapping a purple wig on a blow-up doll and it's a really small step!"

[Travis Kincaid]

The door to Violet's apartment slammed shut; and exclamation point added to Ronnie's last insult. Somewhere else a door opened. "Hey! Shut the fuck up, it's six in the morning!" the same door slammed shut by way of punctuation. Ronnie glared at Travis. Travis stood his ground uncertainly. He didn't remember any prior fights with Ronnie, didn't remember making her back down time and time again.

"Maybe I am this stupid," Travis growled, keeping his voice low, "or maybe my brain is fucked up and I can't remember anything before three months ago." There was anger mixed with anguish in his voice, enough to cut through Ronnie's self righteous fury. "Know what? Fuck it. Be pissed at me for being me if it suits you. I don't understand it, and since you don't want to explain, I think we're done here." He looked pointedly at the now closed door of Violet's apartment, "I know I am."

Travis pushed past Ronnie heading back the way he'd come, toward the parking lot and his car. He was angry and confused. He wanted to blame the girl's hair color and name on chance, happenstance, the frenetic energy and whirling colors of the club, but now he wasn't sure.

[z-Ronnie Collins]

For the first time, Travis didn't hound her until she caved. Ronnie looked surprised as he took off, blinking a couple of times. The confusion was brief and quickly replaced with anger.

Ronnie punched the wall. Unlike Travis, it couldn't take it, and her fist made a hole. She could feel it pass into the room beyond, and she yanked her arm back. Someone was going to have an unpleasant surprise later. Snarling to herself, Ronnie bounded down the hall, traveling the same path as Travis by virtue of it being the way out. She emerged to see him heading toward his car.

Without a word she turned the other way and started walking. She had explained it and if he was just going to be dense, she'd leave him to it. If he wanted to blame his amnesia, let him. If he thought it was all an accident, fine.

I just thought he had more respect for me.

Tears pricked her eyes and Ronnie staggered to a stop. Where was she going, anyway? Home? His Christmas gift was sitting on her table, waiting to be wrapped.

Ronnie stopped, seeing that image in her head. It was the only gift she'd get anyone this year. "Fuck. Fuck!" She turned around again, shifting her legs. Seconds later, she was next to Travis's car, tapping on his window. Her expression was still clearly miffed but her eyes were rueful. "Wanna try again?" she said when he cracked his window. "Hurry up and decide - my feet are getting cold."

[Travis Kincaid]

Travis got to his car and got in. The engine growled to life, giving sound to his bad mood. As the initial throaty growl gave way to an idle rumble Travis found his hands gripping the wheel tightly, knuckles white with strain. "Damnit!" He banged his head into the steering wheel a few times. Finally he shook his head, unsure what to do except go home, and try to deal with it later. He straightened and was about to put the car into gear when there was a tap on his window. Startled he looked up to see Ronnie. "Great," he muttered and pushed the button to send the window down.

"Wanna try again?" she said when he cracked his window. Travis stared at her for a moment, unsure what to say. "Hurry up and decide - my feet are getting cold."

"Get in," he said, a little too harshly. She moved around the car and he rolled the window up warding off the morning chill. He was rubbing at his face when she sat down and closed the door. "Why didn't you tell me you were gay? Or did you sometime before? Was I really such an ass you decided to not repeat the experience again?" He stared out the window, or ahead, but he couldn't look at her, he wasn't sure why but he didn't want to.

[z-Ronnie Collins]

"No, it's not like that." Ronnie sighed, rubbing her hands through her hair. Something had dried in her tresses, leaving them stiff. She hid a shudder. Something in Travis's stance relaxed at her denial of his possible callousness. "I'm not gay." He frowned skeptically out the window and Ronnie sighed again. "I'm not. I don't know how I got there. I just grabbed clothing and got the hell out before I had to find out what I'd done last night. I mean... would I wear this if I had a choice?" She pulled at the offending shirt.

"So I'm sorry." Travis's eyebrows jumped at that and he dared to look at her, just for a moment. The sight of Ronnie apologizing was worth a double-take. "Part of this morning was that, part of it was hangover." She swallowed and added, "I don't care that you sleep around. Like I said, they don't mean anything to you. I was always the one who was your friend, the one who mattered. I'm the only woman in the world who seems to be able to tell you no, too. And I'll admit to being proud about being strong about that. Seeing you with that girl was like you were making me into one of them. That even though I've always been strong enough to fend off your advances, you still had to get me anyway.

"I like things the way they are between us," Ronnie added, turning in the seat to look at him. "I don't want to be one of those one-night stands that you tell stories about after. That's why I've always told you no. I like being your friend. I can't say that about anyone else in the world.

"I guess I shouldn't flip out about it, since I won't fuck you," she added. "That's what the sorry is for. I flipped out, not because you are you. It's because of what it felt like you were trying to get me to be. Fuck! The more I try to explain, the more deranged I sound. Jesus." It wasn't the whole truth, but it was what she was comfortable giving him. Ronnie hated these feelings and apology crap; things were easier when you didn't let emotions get in the way. She resisted the urge to hit anything and instead picked a piece of drywall out of her skin. "Just take the damned apology, okay?"

[Travis Kincaid]

"Fine," came the grumpy reply. He didn't say anything else for a moment and then asked, "You need a ride don't you?"

"I need a ride," she said almost at the same time. "A car ride," she qualified almost immediately, catching the grin already spreading on Travis' face.

"Touché." He backed the car out of the spot and headed away, toward Ronnie's condo. "You know, it really didn't occur to me. The resemblance I mean." He glanced at Ronnie, who looked back with an expression that read annoyance. "I'm just saying, it didn't. Mostly I was thinking that with those obviously pierced ... well, everything, that she was probably pretty kinky."

"OK. Alright. No mas." Ronnie shook her head, "Seriously, you don't need to tell me that stuff."

Travis shrugged, shifting into higher gear and laying some speed on. Travis liked to speed, it was almost as good as flying. Almost. "OK," he replied. The rode on in silence until they were a little less than a half mile from her apartment. "I'm sorry too I guess. It wasn't intentional, and I certainly didn't think I'd run into you, but I upset you. So ... sorry."

[z-Ronnie Collins]

Ronnie looked at him, surprised. Travis never apologized, not for any reason or about anything. Maybe he'd done it once when he'd nearly died on that sub. But she couldn't remember any other time he'd come close.

Thinking about the sub reminded her of her promise to him, the only one she'd never kept. Someday, she told herself, knowing that she'd probably never. But telling herself that made her feel like she hadn't broken the promise yet; that she still had time.

Only, she hadn't. She'd lost him for nine months. Ronnie swallowed. It seemed lose-lose. If she kept her word - something she'd always prided herself on doing - she'd lose what she liked most about their friendship: that they were just friends.

"What? My apology isn't good enough?"

"Huh?" Ronnie blinked at him. "Oh, yeah, its fine, they're just so rare I was struck dumb."

"Is that the secret to shutting women up?" Travis asked, grinning. It was still a bit strained, but their banter felt good.

"The secret to shutting me up, maybe," Ronnie told him with a return grin. "But seriously, thanks. Appreciate it."

[Travis Kincaid]

Travis pulled into the driveway in front of Ronnie's place. "Yeah, sure," he replied to her last comment.

"No really."

"And so you really do like men?" he asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

"Yes," came the exasperated reply, "but you're still not getting in my pants."

"You're no fun at all. Plenty of friends have sex you know," he replied, now pulling at straws. With a final shake of her head Ronnie closed the door. The window came down almost immediately. "One of these days you'll change your mind."

Ronnie leaned over, the tee giving Travis a nice view as she did. "For all you know I did and wasn't impressed," she said smirking. She added gently as she stood, "Go home, get some sleep, the empty vagina's of the world can wait one more day for you to save them." Scowling at her teasing, Travis backed out and headed home, wondering the whole way if she'd been telling the truth.