Fic: Twinkies & Pink Slips 1/1 (ongoing series)
- Title:Twinkies & Pink Slips
Rating: PG - occasional mild swear word
Disclaimers : I don't own anything - everybody should know that by
Pairing : Scott, Hank, Xavier (friendship)
Notes: This is the fifth part in my'Beginnings' set. Follows 'Life
through a lens'.
Doesn't make much sense unless you have
read 'Beginnings', 'Hope','Opera..'and 'Life..'.
Thanks to every one who had suggestions for future installments, I am
trying to work them all in over time. This is set in the movieverse
and works on the presumption that Scott grows more 'responsible' over
time (ie he was a bit of a tearaway to start with).
Feedback : Wanted as much as a three gallon drum of Ben & Jerry's
Cherry Garcia !(Cyclops would be an optional topping.)
Scott glanced nervously over his shoulder. This could still go
horribly wrong. Licking his lips he turned his attention back to the
scene in front of him. With the professor due back tomorrow this
would be his only shot at this. Sneaking out of the mansion in the
evening would be a lot more difficult, if not impossible, once the
powerful telepath was back in the house. Hank, on the other hand, was
easily distracted. He smiled at the memory. He'd felt a twinge of
guilt at deliberately ruining Hanks' latest experiment, stifled when
he acknowledged to himself it was hardly the most important
scientific test Hank had ever devised. Hanks search for a way to
remove the high additive and sugar content and improve the
nutritional value of a Twinkie's filling without the loss of taste
(taste being subjective in Scott's opinion) would hardly win him the
Nobel prize. A necessary sacrifice to tonight's bit of double
dealing. Of course, `borrowing' the pink slip to the professors'
vintage motorbike had given him slightly more pause. The thing looked
like an antique but had a good engine in it. Scott shook his head -
hell, the thing probably hadn't been ridden since it came of the
assembly line given the mileage it carried. But the engine was good
and that was all that mattered for tonight.
Time to throw it all on the line. In the three weeks that the
professor had been away he'd grown bored. The initial excitement of
being able to see again had been slightly tempered once he'd
thoroughly explored the mansion grounds twice. Hank was great, easy
to be around even for someone as standoffish as Scott acknowledged he
could be, but Hank was more often than not haring off on one of his
scientific jags before long and within a week Scott was bored. He
found he didn't sleep much. He was candid enough to realise it was
partly due to survival instinct left over from sleeping rough in
snatches and part due to his continued fear of letting his powers run
amok. What it meant was he'd spent a week prowling the mansion at
night and then slipped out into town. Less than two nights later he'd
found the object of tonight's excursion. He hadn't mixed with the
others at first, watching and picking up on the rules such as they
were. There weren't many that's for sure. Whoever got back in one
piece won, simple as that. But the winner wasn't cheated no matter
what, which had surprised him. He'd seen what the rest of the group
had done to one looser who had tried to welch on handing over the
winnings and he'd been one of their own. It was a strange kind of
honour code, but as long as it held for tonight he was in with a
chance. It was all about tonight, he wouldn't be coming back even if
he won. He wanted one thing out of this then it was back to the
mansion before the professor got back. Loosing wasn't an option with
the professors' bike on the line. He owed the guy, felt badly about
taking the bike in the first place, but given he wasn't even
contemplating loosing what harm could it do?
Last race of the night. No set route, who ever made it to Kitchens'
creek and back first won. They were far enough out of town that the
local cops didn't care who got wrapped around a tree. The guy on the
other end of the C.B would confirm you'd actually gone to the creek.
The object of Scott's desire didn't look like much, was probably the
worst bike there really and thus part of the reason he'd chosen that
race, but he had a good eye for detail and had been damn near
obsessed with bikes and mechanics before the dance that changed his
life so much. It had potential despite the amount of work it would
require. It'd probably take years. * Good thing really since I'm not
technically old enough to ride the thing anyway1 * All he had to do
was beat the rider. The rider who pretty much was the dirtiest guy
around as far as he could tell. He hadn't lost yet because he hadn't
let anyone back in one piece. The guy didn't seem to care how much
damage the other bike suffered, after all he could fix or sell it
once he owned it. * He's not going to own this one though, * Scott
When the handkerchief came down both bikes roared into the night.
Scott hadn't even made the first bend when the other guy pitched a
wrench at his front wheel. Sparks lit off the spokes and he swayed
dangerously but held his balance. The other guy had used the moment
to pull ahead. Scott smiled despite the fear pounding in his chest.
This was actually going to plan. Scott had scoped the terrain well
when he'd settled on his target. His natural affinity for angles,
corners and mathematics meant he had an encyclopaedic knowledge of
the route he was going to take and what speed he could make where. He
also knew where his rivals' bike couldn't go as a result of its low
undercarriage. The other bike was a lot faster but would need to
stick to the tarmac whereas he could go cross-country and use the
dirt routes. With the other guy in front Scott peeled off onto his
chosen route without obstruction. If the guy had been behind he might
have been able to block Scott's turn or used his vulnerability in the
turn to ram Scott off the road. The only real danger now was the dirt
and grit he was choking on. Didn't think to wrap anything around his
mouth. The guy would realise Scott's intentions soon enough and pour
on the speed, but if Scott could keep the bike steady through his
rough route he would reach the creek first. The professors bike
wasn't purpose built for this kind of off road punishment but it was
built to last. It took the knocks and kept running. When he slued off
the dirt track just before the creek he could see the other guys
lights behind him. It had worked so far!
He rounded the creek just as the other guy arrived and had to duck
the fist that swung his way as the bikes passed each other. He was
only partially successful as the other guys' forearm slashed across
his cheek. The metal zipper on his jacket caught Scott and he felt
the sharp sting as it grazed him. Of far more concern to Scott it
also caught his glasses, snapping the safety band he'd rigged to keep
them on during the bumpy ride. He swerved wildly, fighting to gain
his balance and make sure the glasses didn't slip as he careened back
off the way he'd come, loosing ground to the other rider in the
process. He felt the dust stinging the bleeding graze on his
cheekbone. That wasn't going to be easy to hide. The ride back was
tense, he couldn't see the road `till he rounded the last of the
trees on his route back. He wouldn't know `till then whether he'd
lost too much ground against the other guy or not. With the break in
the trees just ahead, Scott strained to see the other bikes' lights.
There! Suddenly he was back on the highway and almost on top of him
was the other guy, swerving wildly across the highway in an attempt
to force Scott off the road. At first Scott thought he'd misjudged
things badly but when the guy overshot his first attempt to bowl him
off the road Scott knew. He had the angle on the bend right before
the finish line, the other guy didn't. For all the speed of the other
bike, Scott had won. He took the bend so sharply he felt his knee
brush the tarmac fleetingly and then he was upright and over the
Scott waited tensely as the other rider approached him. The guy
slapped the pink slip against Scott's chest and leaned in
close. "Don't show your face around here again Kid," he hissed
dropping the keys in Scott's lap. Scott kept his face straight until
the guy walked away toward a battered pick up, got in and swept out
of the parking lot. He let out a sigh of relief as the other riders
began to disperse. Two hours later he'd managed the two trips
necessary to get the bikes back to the mansion and cleaned up the
Professors bike. Aside from the increase in mileage, it had fared
miraculously well. Certainly nothing a new coat of polish wouldn't
fix. The new bike he'd parked in a dark corner draped over with a
heavy tarp. On close inspection it was pretty banged up. Scott
grinned. He'd need to strip it right back to the frame and rebuild it
from the ground up. Plenty to keep him occupied. And a kick-ass
Harley to boot. Something of Scott's' now. Since coming to the
mansion Scott had begun to feel a growing sense of unease. The
Professors generosity was unstinting (he'd have probably bought Scott
a bike if he'd had the gall to ask), but he felt like he needed
something that he could claim as his. Regardless of the less than
honest way he'd come by his new bike, that need had been satisfied.
He groaned when he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The
graze on his cheek was going to be impossible to hide and he didn't
like lying. It was one thing to just not tell somebody about
something that had happened but quite another to outright lie if he
was asked. *Oh well I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it *.
With a sigh Scott peeled his filthy clothes off and slumped onto the
bed, his shower could wait till morning. His mind immediately turned
to making a mental inventory of the repairs and work he wanted to do
on the new bike. Expensive was a thought that came instantly to mind.
He cast his mind back over the last few weeks and grinned as he hit
on a plan. There was a pool hall in town if he remembered rightly.
He'd been good at that sort of thing before the mutation had taken
hold. With his increased spatial perception .he let the thought
drift as he fell asleep with a small smile still on his face.
In the professors' study Hank paced. "Of all the foolish, insensitive
things he could do ." He muttered.
Charles laughed softly. At Hanks' startled look he smiled and held up
a hand to caution his friend. "I do not disagree entirely. He placed
himself in unnecessary danger with that little stunt. It was rather
inventive though don't you think?" Without waiting for an answer the
professor continued, " He's been dragging his feet around for weeks
with about as much life as a stone. Aside from his understandable
excitement when he first got the glasses, he's not had much to smile
about in the last few months Hank. He smiled tonight though."
"I was talking about ruining my Twinkie experiment, " Hank muttered.
Charles looked at his friend, startled, and relaxed when he caught
the other man's grin. " I think we need to find something to keep
young Mr Summers more occupied before School starts in earnest
however. If we can find a way to divert his talents to more noble
pursuits he will achieve great things Hank. The boy has it in him,
tonight is just more proof of that. He didn't take the easy option,
he found a way to get what he wanted, fought for that. We just need
to redirect his energies to a more deserving cause."
Hank stopped pacing. "Ah, your eternal quest Charles? "
Charles smiled. "He can act in a way that I cannot Hank, if that's
what he ultimately wants of course. All I can do is show him the path
and hope he takes it. How is the visor coming anyway? "
"Done. I was going to show it to him when you returned. Of course, we
didn't expect you `till tomorrow or I don't think he'd have pulled
this stunt tonight. "
Charles smiled openly. "I think learning how to use the visor will
keep him occupied until school starts, along with his new acquisition
of course. You'd better ensure he gets it registered as soon as
possible and check to see how soon he can apply for his license. I
have a feeling Scott is going to keep us on our toes no matter how
much we try to fill up his time. Better he does things legally at
"He's going to choke on his cereal when he sees you at breakfast, "
Hank chuckled maliciously. "Serves him right for messing with my