Title: How I Met Your Mothers
Disclaimer: With a myriad of writers, artists, and editors - and directors, now that we're getting decent movie and television renditions - actual rights are a nightmare when you go near a comic book universe. Suffice it to say that Marvel Entertainment LLC owns all of the property printed in their comics, along with the television and movie adaptations of said same property. Not mine, don't sue, and so forth and so on.
Summary: "Well then, girls. Since it seems like Rachel needs a refresher course in the family's history, it sounds like you're going to get your wish. And since it's only eight o'clock? I might be able to sneak in more than just the story of how I met their moms…"
Joe's Note: I started planning the basic idea for this story out as a response to someone on Tumblr soliciting Marvel poly fic for the holidays, and then it sorta got away from me. It was originally going to be a one-shot with Emma and her wives discussing baby names - probably for a second generation of children for the family, or maybe the third - and just be some cute fun fluff. Then I actually started thinking about how the various women might have come together, and realized that could be an even more awesome story. How to convey that information in prose form eluded me for a bit, and then I saw someone make that dumb "Hey Batman, at least we have Robin" joke comparing the MCU and DCCU and it hit me: How I Met Your Mother. Or rather… How I Met Your Mothers. Enjoy.
Dedications & Thanks: To Nicholas, Alexander, Thomas, Koby, Wil, Tracy, Christopher, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on , and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.
December 23, 2014
Frowning as she tugged at the waistband of her white yoga pants, Emma Frost resigned herself to fact that she'd be spending at least two or three weeks hiding behind a telepathic disguise whenever she left her rooms. Well, more so than usual, that was. As much as she liked to joke that 'the cold never bothered her anyway', it really did and so by this time of year, she tended to wear comfortable and warm clothes while projecting the illusion that she was as scandalously underdressed as during late spring, summer, and early fall. But now… sighing, Emma poked at where her belly was starting to pooch through between the waistband of her pants and the bottom of her shirt. While by no means the type to obsess over having a flat stomach, there was a point where the extra pounds crossed from making her 'soft' and 'curvy' to 'fat'.
Damn holiday cookies. Forget Pietro, those things were her archenemy.
Making her way over to the couch, Emma rolled her eyes at the sight of all eight of her children - plus two more girls who weren't - curled up in a puddle of flesh as they watched television. And it wasn't even anything good, either; for some reason, her daughters had no appreciation for classics like A Christmas Carol, Miracle on 34th Street, or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Hell, she would have even taken National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation over whatever pop star was currently on screen butchering her way through secular and religious Christmas songs alike. Or didn't Alison have some sort of Christmas concert special they could watch, if pop music simply 'had' to be a part of their evening?
For a short time at least, Emma managed to distract herself by contemplating the girls themselves rather than their choice of entertainment. And Lord, they were but a motley group. Five identical blondes, for once not sitting in a neat little row because their half-sisters had decided that separate was not in fact equal and forced them to mingle for the evening. One redhead, whose bushy mane was shot with streaks of the same shade of blonde that Emma and the quintuplets shared, because evidently her eldest was going through a movieverse Narcissa Malfoy phase or some such. A diminutive dark-haired girl, taking advantage of the fact that Emma's eldest had inherited both her mom's looks and height to curl up on her lap rather than occupy a space on the couch. The second of her consensually created daughters, perpetually smirking as she traced the end of one Titian curl over her girlfriend's cheek, the green-haired girl reaching up to bat it every so often. Her youngest, raven-haired and green-skinned… whenever she didn't feel like being something or someone else. And she loved them all.
Well, except for Alex and James's spawn. She tolerated them for the sake of her daughters' happiness.
Finally, though, Emma couldn't take the mind-numbing drivel anymore. Thrusting her hand out, she summoned what pitifully little telekinetic talent had been unlocked in her by the best genetic manipulation that money could buy, yanking the television remote up off the coffee table and into her hand. Her actions were greeted by a chorus of groans that she silenced with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Please, you're all lucky that I'm not making you head upstairs to do homework. Do remember that I not only know exactly what each of you has been assigned over the break, but I know exactly how little of it has been finished so far…"
"Of course you do, Mother, you're the world's nosiest telepath." Blowing a raspberry, Rachel Grey-Frost waved one hand and levitated Laura Howlett up off her lap, allowing the redhead to extricate herself from the mass of humanity occupying the couch. Moving to sit on the coffee table, she thrust her free hand out and tore the remote out of Emma's grip, sending it spiraling through the air into her own hand. But rather than turn the television back on, Rachel simply returned the remote to where it had started before settling Laura back on her lap. "But seeing as how it's Christmas Adam-"
"You know, it comes before Christmas Eve and is generally considered unsatisfying by all?"
"…charming. Who'd you learn that one from? Aunt Anna Marie? Aunt Katherine?"
"Uncle Tumblr. Which also taught me what to do when you're not home. Still need to find a trombone for that…" Rachel trailed off as she lapsed into thought for a few seconds before shaking her head. "Anyway, if we can't watch television and we don't want to do our homework because it's the holidays, what are we allowed to do? I mean, the only reason why we were watching television together is because you shut off the quarters' wifi and so we're stuck with each other for company."
Before Emma could respond with a suggestion - or a few, because she'd been expecting the question-slash-complaint for over an hour now - five hands rose in perfect synchronicity before five voices answered Rachel as a chorus. "What about story time, like the rest of you got around this time last year?" Heads turning simultaneously, the Five-in-One shifted their glowing blue gazes from Rachel to Emma. "Because you've done a really great job of making us feel like part of the family, but there's so much we still don't know about it. Like… how did you actually end up married to three different women, Mother? With children by all of them? We've heard plenty of jokes, but never the real story…"
Again Emma opened her mouth to speak, but again she found herself cut off by one of her daughters. "Oh God no. I'll give you the CliffsNotes some time if you're really curious, but that's not a story I need to hear again." Amaranth Maximoff-Frost shuddered violently, causing Olivia Summers and… Emma was reasonably certain it was Esme who was leaning away on Amaranth's left. Not that it really mattered what name she used for any given body; the quintuplets were called the Five-in-One for a reason. "Because I know how Mum met our mother, and I for one don't need those images getting stuffed back into my head."
Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes at that. "Mom met our mother back in her Hellfire Club days."
"Mother seduced information about the Dard'van's plans out of Maman, and then arranged amnesty for her because of how much fun it'd been." Victoire Drew-Frost arched a brow as she looked back and forth between Rachel and Amaranth challengingly. "I'm pretty sure I have the most traumatic origin story out of the three of us."
…heh. Yeah. Emma had to admit, meeting - and romancing - Veranke had been wicked fun. As for Amaranth and Rachel's gripes, though? Totally unfounded. "Amaranth dear, you can add a one page paper on the word 'hyperbole' to your holiday homework. Because while our actual romance was a bit of a whirlwind, yes, I first met your mum during business negotiations with your girlfriend's grandfather. As for your mom, Rachel, I met her when your Grandpa Charles was giving me a tour of this very school in an attempt to convince me to buy it from him. While I may have been working at the Hellfire Club at that time, it's completely irrelevant to the story of Jean and I." Which wasn't to say that she hadn't taken advantage of the skills acquired at the Club while romancing Jean - and later Wanda and Veranke - but it wasn't like the redhead had visited her at work or anything.
Probably a good thing, given that there was supposed to be no sex in the champagne room.
Letting out a soft huff, Laura elbowed Rachel in the stomach as she stared up at the redhead. "I knew something sounded off about your version of it. Not the part about Headmistress Frost being an exotic dancer in the past - that's easy to believe if you've ever met her - but I couldn't believe that Professor Xavier would…" Trailing off, Laura shook her head. "Considering where I come from, I can understand lying about your past, but why would you make up a lie like that?"
That was a very good question. As was what Charles had supposedly done in Rachel's highly embellished version of events. But rather than go poking about in either Rachel or Laura's minds, Emma chose to seat herself in the nearby armchair. "Well then, girls. Since it seems like Rachel needs a refresher course in the family's history, it sounds like you're going to get your wish. And since it's only eight o'clock? I might be able to sneak in more than just the story of how I met their mothers…"