FIC: All Foam, No Beer (PG) (2/6)
- It wasn't until after the door closed that Scott let loose.
And no, he didn't start partying or anything like that. Scott didn't party. Scott did a very light form of brooding that involved spiked punch and awkward dancing.
But that was when there was a party. Which there wasn't. There was an awkward silence, and then there was a general chicken-with-its-head-cut-off reaction out of Scott, who raced to the door and practically flung himself across it. He eyed Charles with the calm, steady demeanor of a serial killer.
"Why did you do that?" he said slowly and deliberately.
Charles frowned. "Why did I do what?"
"Let him stay."
"He's your friend, Scott. I'm being hospitable."
"But in the boys's room?"
Jean and the Professor exchanged a worried look before he said, "Scott, the rest of the rooms are in the middle of being repainted. It's either the boys's room, or your room."
Scott opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again, then said, "You do realize he's never leaving now."
The Professor and Jean exchanged another look before Charles asked, "I do?"
"He's the houseguest from hell, Professor."
"I find that a bit hard to believe, Scott."
Charles couldn't be sure, what with the ruby quartz glasses and all, but he could have sworn Scott rolled his eyes at that. "The last time I let him stay with me when I was still in college, I lost my gerbil."
Jean frowned. "What's that got to do with Mick?"
"I found it in my roommate."
If there was ever such a thing as a mental upchuck, Scott was fairly sure he heard two of them at that particular moment. Ha. Served them right for asking.
"Ah don't like him."
It was as if Rogue had spit on the entrance to Hot Topics in the Westchester Mall. Rogue had never seen Jubilee look so shocked. (Well, unless you counted when Monica and Chandler slept together the first time on "Friends." Jubilee hadn't been able to close her jaw completely for a week, or so the rumor went. Then again, Rogue hadn't seen that, so it didn't count.)
"Why not? He's cute."
"He smells like gasoline."
Jubilee squirmed under Rogue's accusing gaze and said with a shrug, "So? He can shower."
"No, he can't. We took the instructions off the soap."
Jubilee shook her head as the two walked down the stairs and headed towards the TV room. And promptly froze at the sight of Kitty and Mick sitting next to one another on the couch, talking like old friends.
Rogue wouldn't have been surprised if Jubilee had growled like Logan.
"What's Kitty doing sitting with him?"
Rogue ignored Jubilee's venemous expression and plopped down on the couch next to Kitty. Jubilee, meanwhile, tried to find a nonchalant way of sitting next to Mick.
Mick didn't bother noticing, still engrossed in his conversation with Kitty. "Healin' ability? T'at's 'is mutant ability?"
Mick's green eyes narrowed. "T'at's the stupidest mutant ability I've e'er 'eard of!"
Kitty pointed to a dark-haired kid across the room who was flipping through a Douglas Adams book. "Danny Gorel can eat glass," she said simply.
Mick frowned. Well, she had him there. "But still ... I mean, 'Beware me wrath! I am the Amazin' Band-Aid Man! I warn you not t' defy me!' Doesn't quite 'ave a heroic ring to it, now, does it?"
"Well, he's got these nails ..."
"And what do t'ey do?"
The girls looked at each other and shook their heads. This was going to take a while.
"Why are we doing this again?"
"You were on the basketball team, Bobby. Didn't you have initiation in your school?"
"Yeah, but I just had to wrap myself up in toilet paper and sing to a MacDonald's full of nuns."
John paused in what he was doing and glanced over at Bobby. "Where did you find a MacDonald's full of nuns?"
"And I don't seem to remember getting initiated when I showed up here," Bobby said, ignoring him.
"Bobby, you were the first one here. Who was going to initiate you? Mr. Summers? Yeah, I can see it now. Mr. Summers creeping in here in the middle of the night with whipped cream, duct tape, and an aardvark ..."
Bobby just stared as John stuck a videotape of "This is Spinal Tap" to the wall. Please. As if Mr. Summers would even know where to get an aardvark ...
Everything he owned was covered in it.
Which he supposed wouldn't have been so bad if some of it were actually touching the floor.
Mick scowled and looked down at the bureau next to his bed. Well, at least he'd remembered to hide his underwear. Hey, he'd gone to a private school. Ten years at Sir Walter's School for Wayward Boys had taught him that anywhere he went where teenage boys resided, first things first, hide his underwear. And his Playboys.
Mick heard a flapping sound over by the open window and glanced over, then sighed deeply. So, they'd found the Playboys, had they? What kind of a sick, twisted teenage boy ruined a perfectly good Playboy like that? That was a sure sign of lunacy, that was.
Well ... he was going to have to take his stuff off the walls sometime. With a loud groan -- he wasn't exactly looking forward to this -- Mick spun on his heels and headed down the hall to the girls's room.
"Excuse me, gels, but do any o' y'got any nail polish remover?"
At the sound of the distinctive accent coming from the doorway, Jubilee tripped, which wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that she was sitting on Kitty's bed with Kitty and Rogue at the time. This made for what Kitty liked to call, "the most embarassing moment of Jubilee's natural-born life."
Jubilee leapt back to her feet and raced over to her desk, then raced back and handed him the first bottle of nail polish remover she could find.
Mick nodded and checked the contents, then handed it back with an apologetic smile. "I need the kind wit' the acetone in it."
"OhI'vegotthat,too,justholdon." Jubilee bounded over to her desk again, and was back with another bottle before
Kitty shook her head and leaned across her bed to whisper to Rogue, "How does she talk like that without exhaling?"
Rogue shrugged. "Carefully, Ah guess."
This was not good.
It was funny, really, how many times Bobby walked into a room in this joint and was confronted with the thought, "This is not good."
He glanced over at John, who wasn't looking at him. He was looking up. Which wasn't surprising, since that was where everything they owned was. Including their goldfish, swimming around frantically in their Krazy-glued bowl as if to shout, "I can see my house from here!" Which they couldn't, but still.
Maaaan ... at least they'd been nice enough to put Mick's stuff on the walls. No climbing involved.
At the sight of his favorite Babylon Five T-shirt Krazy glued to the ceiling right above his bed, St. John looked over at Bobby and said the four words that Bobby knew meant, in St. John's teenage dialect, war. And lots of it.
"Where is his underwear?"Troll Princess
Grand Poobah of Mischief and Sheepish Lord of Chaos
Go with God, my car's full.
Buffy Summers: What are you doing here, Spike? Five words or less!
Spike: [counting on fingers] Out... for... a... walk... bitch.
-- "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"