So, thought Rogue, as she kicked back her feet in one of the chairs that sat in front of the makeshift stage. This was what happened when you narked off the Professor. He may act like a kindly, respectable, knowledgeable gentleman. He may bear a passing resemblance to...whatshisname...y'know...the guy from that Sci-fi thing they were always repeating on Sky. Star-Trek. But no one had ever suspected that he would actually follow through with what had seemed at the time nothing more than idle threats...

"Logan, my tolerance for your smoking in the mansion notwithstanding, continue smoking that in here and you'll spend the rest of your days under the belief that you are a six year old girl," he had once said. And that threat was the first of many.

Of course, no one had believed him at the time. No one had thought that he would ever... Not until now. Not until Hank, Logan and Scott had gone out on an all night bender for their own personal Christmas party. They had come back in a terrible state; trashed the kitchen, stolen all Jean's underwear, drunkenly shredded several priceless books in the library, drank the Professor's entire supply of single malt... To say he was unhappy would be an understatement. To say he would forgive them without total humiliation would be a lie.

The three had mysteriously disappeared during a training session the following morning. The Professor had then made an announcement; that he knew the school was aware of the appalling behaviour of three of its teachers; that nobody was above the rules of the school, and they were to be taught their lesson. Publicly. Those wishing to attend should be in the cafeteria by eight p.m. The bringing of Christmas cheer was optional.

So, rumours abound and curiosity overflowing, Rogue found herself crammed into a front row seat between Kitty and Pete, wondering what on earth the Professor had planned.

She idly studied the decorations as she waited. A giant tree dominated one corner, although unfortunately someone had decided to let Jubilee loose upon it so the decorations were all a varying shade of yellow. Still, it was festive. Streams of tiny sparkling fairy lights hung from the ceiling, the oak panelling was decked out with holly and mistletoe, all very pretty. Yet the thick red curtains on the stage that had appeared out of nowhere sometime mid-afternoon, remained closed.

She sighed. It was probably going to be nothing more than a boring, 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it. I promise to behave responsibly from now on,' speech. Hardly the stuff of raucous evenings in. And the...wait. What was that?

She frowned.

There was music. There... over by the tree.

Her eyes followed the sound. The Professor was sitting comfortably at the side of the room, looking far too pleased with himself. Jean was leaning against the wall, arms folded, also looking a little smug. She was giving a sideways smirk to 'Ro who was in charge of some sort of sound system.

Rogue tried to concentrate. There were jazzy beats, jingle bells. The song was familiar somehow, but she couldn't think where she had heard it before. It was...

Oh god.

A foot encased in a sparkling red stiletto arced out through the join in the curtains. It was closely followed by a leg.

A blue, hairy leg.

It did a graceful little kick, before running its toes up and down the thick velvety material. Then an arm appeared. The full length opera glove doing little to disguise it's matching hairy blueness. This was closely followed by a head. Hank's head.

There were a few nervous chuckles amongst the audience. I mean, everyone knew the Professor was powerful, but *this*? Rogue didn't know what to make of it. Surely, no matter what Hank had done, how many books he had eaten, it was not right to make the good doctor dress up like a...oh God he was gonna...

He had a microphone.

Microphone's were not good.

The beat kicked up a notch. The curtains parted, and-

"Santa baby..." He tilted his head and blinked provocatively, a move totally at odds with his rich baritone. "Slip a sable under the tree...for me." A wiggle of the blue furry hips as he sauntered forwards a few paces. "...I've been an *awful* good girl. Santa baby..." A coy look, "...so hurry down the chimney tonight."

He blew a kiss to the otherwise stunned audience. Some people were beginning to laugh. Others stared on in wide-eyed shock, not quite sure whether to believe it was real or not.

Rogue fell into the latter category. She tried to think back on the evening. Had she drank anything? No. Taken any thing with vague hallucinogenic properties? Well the cafeteria custard was always suspicious...but still... Beside her Pete was choking back his attempt not to succumb to full blown hysteria. Kitty had nearly slid right through her seat laughing, and the Professor was looking highly amused. At least it couldn't get any...oh God not Scott as well.

Their fearless leader strutted on in a little black Christian Dior number; the kind that had diamante sparkling along every seam. It matched the gold and red sequins that had been glued onto his visor. He struck a pose; someone had done his makeup too, and by the way she was smirking, Rogue suspected Jean. Scott's normally stern lips glistened with a shimmery lip gloss; chiselled cheekbones were very prettily highlighted with strokes of Moulin-Rogue red. And worst of all, it was a look that strangely suited him.

Then in perfect time with the music Scott held out a graceful hand to Hank, who took it, and in one smooth motion pulled Scott towards him in a spin, then slapped his ass before sending him forwards to the front of the stage.

Over in the corner Jean snorted and started laughing so hard she had to be propped up by 'Ro.

Scott gave Hank a wink over his shoulder, tilted his visor at the audience before... "...Santa baby..." The same hip wiggle. Rogue was beginning to suspect that either the Professor was a closet choreographer, or this had been rehearsed. "...A '54 convertible too - light blue..." He leant forwards for his best Marilyn Monroe pout. "...I'll wait up for you *dear*. Santa baby... so hurry down the chimney tonight." He kicked up his heel, sparkles glittering everywhere.

Then they started singing together.

"Think...of all the *fun* I've missed," sang Hank to Scott.

"Think of all the fellas that I...haven't kissed," Scott sang back. Hank nodded in serious agreement.

"Next year I could be just as good," pouted Hank.

Then in perfect harmony, "If you'll check off my Christmas list..."

Ok. Surely the Professor had made his point by now. People that pissed him off had to pay. Rogue snuck a glance at Kitty, who was laughing so hard she was clutching at her stomach. Even Kurt was trying to stifle the on-coming hysterics, as Hank and Scott daintily linked arms and skipped round each other in circles.

Rogue repressed a snigger. She shouldn't laugh. Not really. It wasn't funny. It really wasn't funny. It...Oh god no. No no no no no no... Not him. Not Logan. Not in a FUCK IT! That was HER bikini! Where the HELL had he gone delving round to find...

"Santa baby, I want a yacht an' really that's not...a lot," he did a little shimmy, and elicited a few excited screams from the audience.

Rogue thought she might have actually died.

"Been an *angel* all year," he added, running a shy hand through his mutton-chops and batting his eyelashes coyly. "Santa baby..." the hip thing, "...So hurry down the chimney t'night."

Her bikini was never going to fit her properly again. It was stretched over places it should never see. And never was she more grateful that she had let Kitty talk her out of getting the thong version...and...oh fuck they were STILL going... Hank had got hold of some mistletoe and was edging towards Logan, who pretended to look all coy before tipping him a wink.

"Come and trim my Christmas tree," Logan sang with a leer to Hank. Who pretended to look all affronted, before peering at Logan over the top of his glasses and adding...

"With some decorations bought at...Tif-fa-ny..."

"I really do...believe in you," sang Scott. "Let's see if you...believe in me."

Even 'Ro was loosing control by now. Jubilee was laughing so hard she had hiccups and was sending little sparks out every time one jolted through her.

"Santa baby," crooned Hank, "...forgot to mention one...little thing-"

"A ring," chimed in Scott."

"I don't mean on the phone. Santa baby... So hurry down the chimney
tonight."

Logan clutched his hand over heart. "Hurry down the chimney to-"

"Enough!"

Time froze for those on stage, and all eyes turned to the Professor as he wheeled his chair up the ramp. Well, those that weren't giggling so hard they had tears streaming from them anyway.

The Professor took his time, having a good laugh at the expense of his senior team. Scott's frozen pose was rather heartfelt; he looked all chiselled and mysterious in a side-on pout, his hand held out to Hank, who had ditched the mistletoe and was waving a small branch of holly. Logan had both muscular arms outstretched as if he was about to burst into a full blown rendition of 'O sole mio.' In the bikini. Damn but the man had some muscles. Rouge briefly wondered if anyone had thought to bring a camera.

"Ororo, if you will...?' The Professer indicated to the sound system with an eyebrow, and 'Ro quickly obliged by turning the sound down. "Let this be a warning to all of you," he said sternly to all the faces watching. Well, he attempted to say sternly, the effect was not helped by the fact that he was in direct eye line of Logan's bikini clad crotch. A small chuckle escaped him.

"You are all aware of the damage these three caused last night. A lesson needed to be learnt. One they would not forget in a hurry." This time he really did fail to suppress the snigger. "I do not think they will be trashing my mansion again any time soon," he added with a sly smile. He took one last amused look at his senior team, then clicked his fingers. "Awake," he commanded.

For a moment, no one moved. In the sudden silence that followed, the audience began to shuffle nervously in their seats.

Hank was the first to react. In almost slow motion he looked down at his red sparkly shoes, glanced up to take in all the people watching him, then back down at the shoes again. He managed a frown, struggled out a feeble, "oh my," before his eyes rolled up in his head, and he passed out with a thud on the floor.

Scott was not quite so graceful. Much to everyone's delight, one glance at his little black dress and he let loose a shriek, threw his hands up in the air and raced off stage, running like a girl in his high heels.

Logan, on the other hand, merely took in his muscular bikini clad form and raised an eyebrow. His gaze hunted for Rogue in the audience. When he found her in the front row he gave her a smirk. "This yours darlin'?"

Oh God he was looking at her. The last thing she wanted was to be drawn in to the whole mess. Rogue felt her cheeks colour as she managed a feeble nod.

He grinned. "Well, not entirely sure how I ended up in it, but I make it look damn good," he said, with a look of approval. "Might need some help gettin' out of it later though..." He began to edge closer to her end of the stage.

"Chica? Is he talking to you?" Jubilee's whispered voice was still weak from excessive laughter.

Rogue was unable to take her eyes off Logan as she garbled out an answer. "Nope. No. Not guilty. It wasn't me. Neverseenhimbeforeinmylife – Eeeeaaap!" the last squeak was added as Logan leapt off the stage and landed on the floor in front of her with a thump. Was he laughing? It was *supposed* to be a punishment. Trust him to find the whole situation funny.

"C'mere darlin'."

Rogue began to shuffle out of her chair. "I am not going anywhere with you dressed like... like *that*!" People were beginning to look. Ok, 'beginning' might not be technically correct. She glanced wildly around, trying to give the 'I'm not with him' impression. But all eyes were firmly fixed in their direction. She was beginning to think now would be a good time to steal a bit of Kitty's mutation and sink into the floor.

"What's up?" He gave her a wicked look. "You can't handle a man in a two-piece?" The eyebrow was quirked, and he grinned before he ripped some of the mistletoe off the wall and started advancing.

Oh God.

"Am I gonna have to come and get you?"

He was gonna...? "Eeeaaaak!" she yelled, as she turned and bolted through the rows of chairs. The bikini clad, mistletoe clutching, otherwise barefoot and naked Logan chasing fast on her heel.

Her last not-so-coherent thought before he managed to catch up with her, was that hang their punishment, this was a lesson *she* was not gonna forget for a very long time.

******************

Song: 'Santa Baby'

Written by Joan Javits, Philip Springer, and Tony Springer.