Last Man Standing
by
Jocelyn and Navaeh
Feedback: PLEASE! This is my first fic!
WARNING: DO NOT read if the idea of the X-men getting falling-down drunk disturbs you.
Disclaimer: The X-men belong to Brian Singer and Marvel Comics and I am not making any money off of this story. I don't have any money to begin with, so please don't sue me!
Author's Notes: See, this is what happens when you walk out of a movie theater at midnight after overdosing on popcorn and caffeine! It's an answer to one of those crazy little questions: "If all the X- men went to a bar, who would pass out first?" I must extend much co- author credit to my sister Navaeh and our friend Sandy for their input on this story. If this story appears to have a huge number of typos, it's actually my attempt to write alcohol-slurred words.
* Denotes unspoken thought by characters
The mansion. . .
Logan swore to himself as he rummaged through the last of the toolboxes in the mansion garage. Who'd have thought Mr. "Neat-As-A-Pin-With-Everything-In-It's-Place" would've managed to hide his keys so well. He stared longingly at Scott Summers' motorcycle, the keys to which were the object of his search. It was really sort of funny; Cyclops used to just leave the keys with the bike, since it would take someone with a sledgehammer (or mutant pulverizing power) to break into the garage from the outside. But now, Ol' Tightass had evidently decided that the biggest threat came from within, and that left Wolverine without his favorite mode of transportation.
"Guess I purloined the damn thing once too often." Logan muttered, and headed back into the mansion. Now, the question was where to hunt for Cyclops' keys and still avoid running into Cyclops. Logan wandered the halls aimlessly until Ororo Monroe came out of one of the classrooms with an armload of essays. On a whim, he exclaimed, "Hey, Storm, you seen Cyclops anywhere?"
"I saw him heading down to the infirmary, why?"
"Uh, Jean was looking for him."
"I guess she found him; he was with her."
"Oh, okay." Logan gave Storm a little wave, "Have fun grading papers," he added nonchalantly, and headed back down the hall.
*Okay, so Cyke's downstairs with the redhead, that leaves the upstairs for me to explore.*
He left their bedroom as a last resort--somehow the idea of rifling through Scott and Jean's underwear didn't exactly appeal to Wolverine, *well, Jean's might be fun, but I doubt Cyclops'd hide the keys in them.* Instead, Logan found a likely target, a little den that served as Scott's office in the school. The door was unlocked, and he slipped inside to find a room so perfectly organized that it made the Library of Congress look cluttered. There were several keys, hanging on nails from the bookshelf covering one wall, but the motorcycle key wasn't among them. Gritting his teeth in disappointment, Logan absently glanced over the books. The Collective Works of Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, several dozen plays and classics that Logan had never heard of, Webster's Dictionary, English to French Dictionary, English to Spanish Dictionary, French to Spanish, Spanish to French, The Elements of Grammar, The Elements of Writing Style, War and Peace, The entire Encyclopedia Britannica, The Disciplined Mind *hah! If that guy got any more disciplined,he'd be a robot!* and Today's English Grammar and Composition.
"He has no life. He REALLY has no life." Wolverine muttered in disbelief and turned his attentions to Scott's desk.
Top drawer: six perfectly sharpened pencils, four pens, the keys. . . to the other drawers. Damn!
Second drawer: English essays and English gradebook. No keys.
Third drawer: French tests, Spanish tests, French and Spanish gradebooks. No keys.
Fourth drawer: Mechanics assignments, two Mechanics books, Mechanics gradebook. No keys.
Fifth drawer: a Discman and some CD's--hey! Logan leafed through them. Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, the Boston Philharmonic--this was ridiculous! Hey, wait a minute. . . BRITNEY SPEARS?!?! There was a post-it note stuck to that one: "Return to Bobby next Friday." *Aw, man, I thought I had something!* Still no keys.
Sixth drawer--locked. He unlocked it to find nothing inside except what looked like one of those self-help books that never seemed to go out of style. "Let me guess, Chicken Soup for the Mutant Soul."
Logan turned it over and gaped. The title read You Suck, by J.J. Sharpe. "What the hell?!" This just didn't add up to Cyke's taste in literature. He opened the book and smothered a laugh; on the inside cover was written, "You need a little spice in your reading material. This should help. Love, Jean."
Logan closed the book, laughing, "I knew there was no way he'd have bought that." He put the book back and started to close the drawer, then rearranged it with the title facing down, the same way he had found it. Slim would be the one to notice something like that.
Wolverine ambled down the hall toward the Summers-Grey bedroom only to find it occupied by both of its residents. "To hell with it, looks like I'm taking one of the cars," he grumbled and headed back to the garage.
Lily Page's Tavern. . .
Several miles from the mansion, Wolverine found what he'd really been wanting, a bar that served decent beer. Adding yet another thing to the List of Ways that Boy Scout Summers Annoys Me, he thought. Won't let me have beer on school grounds. The bartender, a blonde woman in her fifties, eyed him with a smile, "Ya new around here, hon?"
"Yeah." Logan twirled his long neck idly.
"Workin'?" she asked conversationally.
"I live at a school down the road."
"Professor Xavier's school?" she asked, sounding surprised. When he nodded, she winked, "I get some of his kids in here now and then. I really oughta check ID's, but as long as they're just experimentin', I don't see the harm."
Logan laughed, imagining Cyke's reaction if he knew the kids were sneaking down to here to experiment with alcohol. "I hope you keep an eye on them. They're novices."
"Oh yeah, sweetie, don't worry. Sometimes they come once, get `emselves drunk enough for a hangover and never come back again. I figure it's a public service," she shared a chuckle with Logan, "Teaches `em a little cause and effect. Hell, some of the `em are still there teaching at the school now."
Logan blinked, "Really?" He tried to think if anyone other than the "X-men" and the Professor taught at the school, "Which of the teachers came in here?"
"Well, that was a few years back, and they only came once, but I remember `em." Lily snorted, "It was right after I bought this place." She frowned thoughtfully, "There was. . . lemme see, that lovely redheaded girl on her way to medical school, a black girl with white hair, and. . . oh yeah. . . " she snapped her fingers and grinned, "that handsome young man with the red sunglasses."
Logan choked and nearly spit his beer out. "Wh-what?!" Lily looked at him in surprise, and he repeated, "A guy with red sunglasses? Are you sure?"
She frowned at him, "Yeah, why? You know him?"
Logan took a long swig of his beer, "Yeah, I think so. I just. . . wouldn't have expected him to be the drinking type."
Lily laughed, "Well, I didn't think he was either. He seemed a little nervous, but he loosened up pretty damn fast after he'd had a few. He never took those sunglasses off either. Wonder if he was afraid somebody'd recognize him."
Logan fought the urge to guffaw. Cyclops drinking; what a funny thought. "Was his name Scott, by any chance?"
"I don't quite recall, but he definitely still lives at the school. I've seen him riding by on that motorcycle of his. He must've been around nineteen at the time." She smiled slyly at Wolverine, "Hasn't been back since either."
It was worth not getting the keys to the bike to hear this story, "Don't tell me he got drunk enough for a hangover!"
"Oho, honey, they all got pretty smashed. I wouldn't let `em go home till the next morning. I don't recall which one passed out first, but none of `em were what you and I would call `experienced.'"
This time, Logan did guffaw. Jean, Ororo, and Mr. Straight-and- Narrow Scott Summers getting falling-down drunk. "My God, what I wouldn't give to have seen that!"
The mansion, later that evening. . .
Wolverine was thrilled to have a weapon of revenge against Cyclops for hiding the motorcycle keys. Arriving back at the mansion, he couldn't wait to rub that little story in Cyke's face. And in the kitchen just after dinner, Scott provided him with a golden opportunity. "Where were you all afternoon?"
Keeping his face as blank as possible, Wolverine replied "Went out for a drink at Lily Page's Tavern."
There was a long pause, "Oh."
Logan raised his eyebrows at Cyclops and demanded, "What, no lecture? Weellll, I guess that would be a little hypocritical, wouldn't it?"
Until that point, Jean and Ororo had been cleaning up, but both of them froze at Logan's comment. As for Scott, he cleared his throat and muttered, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Logan leaned back in his seat and drawled, "It's just that the bar's namesake mentioned to me that a certain `handsome young man with red sunglasses'" he mimicked Lily's faintly Southern accent, "once came into her saloon and got a bit tanked."
Scott turned as red as his glasses, Storm groaned, and Jean grinned sheepishly, "I guess we should've figured that you'd be the one to find out about that."
Gleefully, Wolverine pressed his advantage, "Lily told me you all knocked yourselves out. Whatsa matta, Cyclops, couldn't hold your beer?"
"I was a kid." Scott replied, aware that Logan finally had something to hold over him, and not liking it.
Jean seemed chagrined, but willing to grin and bear it, "It was Scott's idea, actually."
"What?!" Logan exclaimed, choking on a howl of laughter.
Scott glared at his fiancÈ as if to say, Whose side are you on? and Jean brushed his scowl aside with a wave of her hand, "Relax. You said yourself, we were kids. We were all entitled to a little youth rebellion."
"I should've known better." He answered stubbornly.
"What about me? I was older than you!" Jean retorted, grinning at the memory, "I didn't raise a single objection."
"Was he the first one down?" Logan asked eagerly.
Storm laughed and said, "Well, he didn't win, but he didn't lose either."
"Really? Who lost?" Logan was surprised.
Looking abashed, she admitted, "I did. Scott was down second and Jean won out. At least that's what they told me the next day." Glaring playfully at the snickering Jean, she added, "Hey now, I would have outlasted both of you if I hadn't been so ambitious!"
"What do you mean, `ambitious?'" Wolverine just couldn't seem to form the image of a drunk Ororo in his mind.
She shrugged, blushing, "I tried drinking tequila. Those two were only drinking beer," she pointed out with a mocking gesture at Jean and Cyclops, "If I'd stuck to beer, I could have stayed conscious longer than Jean, and I'd definitely have outlasted the Virgin Liver over there."
"Hey!" Scott exclaimed, but for the first time, he began grinning too, "It's not necessary to go into that much detail."
Logan chortled behind his hand, but Jean replied, "Detail? At least she didn't tell him how plastered you were after only one beer!"
"I was NOT plastered!" Cyke blurted out as Logan roared with laughter. He kept trying to give both women dirty looks, but the conversation had triggered his previously-believed-nonexistent sense of humor, and a grin broke through. Then he admitted, "I was. . . just a little tipsy."
That set all of them laughing, "You see? You have to do something illegal, outrageous, and stupid at least once during your youth so you'll have something to laugh at when you're older." Jean declared, sitting down next to Scott.
Scott shook his head, still embarrassed, but he added, "I'll never forget the professor's face when we came home nursing the mother of all hangovers."
Wolverine snorted, and Jean buried her face in Scott's shoulder to smother her giggling, "D'you suppose he could hear our thoughts when we were drunk?" Storm mused.
"Good God, I hope not!"
"What thoughts? I don't remember having any!"
"I'm surprised you remember anything at all, Cyke." Logan snorted.
"Look, I wasn't that inexperienced."
"Had you ever had a drink before then? No? Got news, Bub, they don't come more inexperienced than that."
"I wasn't even twenty-one. You're supposed to be inexperienced at that age."
"Hah! Like having one party night makes you experienced. You'd still get plastered after one beer."
"That's ridiculous! I'm older, I'm more responsible--"
"--And it's been years since you've had a single drink! You've got no more tolerance than a thirteen-year-old!"
"Don't ya love it when the testosterone starts flowing, Storm? Now they're arguing about their drinking prowess."
"At least they're not arguing about their sexual prowess."
"I may not be a seasoned drinker, but that doesn't mean I can't--WHAT did you say, Storm!?" Cyclops broke off and stared at the normally reserved Ororo in astonishment.
"Don't try and change the subject," Wolverine said gleefully, "I could drink bourbon while you were drinking beer, and I'd still last longer than you!"
They locked eyes and Storm glanced over at Jean, "Am I thinking what you're thinking?"
"`Fraid so."
"Oh no."
Lily Page's Tavern, even later that evening. . .
Lily Page, the proprietress of Lily Page's Tavern, was enjoying the peace and quiet of a slow evening when the most interesting patrons she'd had in a long time came through the door. "Dear Lord, I expected that you'd come back," she said to Wolverine, "But I never imagined I'd see the three of you again."
"Neither did we." Jean said with a smile, but then she grimaced, "Were we so bad that you remember us?"
"Have no fear, sweetie, I remember every first-timer. I spot `em the minute they walk through the door; they're the ones who look like they're afraid Mommy and Daddy are gonna show up." Logan laughed aloud and Lily gestured to the bar stools, "You want a booth, or is the bar good enough?"
Scott went for the booth, but Logan pulled up a stool, so Cyclops turned and sat challengingly next to him. Lily served up the first round--beer for Jean, Storm, and Cyclops, and bourbon on the rocks for Logan. Logan raised his glass in a mocking toast, "May the best boozer win!" He deliberately quaffed a generous mouthful, taunting Scott who'd only taken a sip. The youngest X-man caught Wolverine's scornful expression and took a large swig from his bottle. Logan eyed Cyclops' outwardly straight face with veiled amusement, knowing Scott must've felt that draught all the way down. Too bad he was so good at keeping a straight face--wait! His ears turned red! Logan looked away to hide his laughter. This promised to be an extremely amusing evening.
"I seem to remember you drinking something a little stronger last time, hon." Lily commented to Ororo.
Storm firmly shook her head, tightening her grip on her bottle, "Thanks, but I'll stick to beer this time. And I WILL last longer than you!" she added, glaring playfully at Jean.
"We'll see about that!"
"Best of luck, ladies!" Logan said, raising his glass to them and taking another drink, forcing Scott to do the same.
"D'you suppose the kids are wondering where we are?" Jean asked.
"We've all gone out together before." Storm replied, unconcerned.
"That's true, they'll think we're off on some `mission' to save the world." Logan chuckled, "It'd never cross their minds that the noble X-men might be out swilling alcohol."
"It shouldn't. We have a reputation to maintain."
"Maybe YOU do, Cyke."
"Oh, lighten up, Scott, everyone needs to let loose once in awhile." Jean said dismissively, then grinned past her fiancÈ at Logan and saluted him with her long neck, "Bottoms up!"
A couple of beers later. . .
Hic!
"Jean? You okay?"
"Just fine, Logan." (Hic!) "Damn." Jean and Storm erupted into giggles.
"I guess what they say about getting the hiccups when you're drunk really is true!" Storm laughed.
"Did you get the hiccups?" Logan asked her.
"Are you kidding? Three shots and I was out cold!"
Scott burst out laughing, "Thank God. That tequila was the only thing that saved me from eternal humiliation of being the first to pass out!"
"Ain't nothin' gonna save ya tonight, Bub!"
"Oh yeah? Bring it on!" Scott blinked several times behind his sunglasses, "Hey, Lily, another round for me and the tipsy redhead!"
"The wha'?" Jean gulped the last of her beer and drew herself up, "Excuse me, sweetheart, I may be tipsy, but you're just plain drunk!"
"I'm not! Not yet anyway."
Storm let out a whoop of laughter and slapped the bar surface, "Give `em a couple more, Lily, and he'll have his hand up her shirt!"
Wolverine choked on his bourbon and leaned over to tap on Storm's forehead, "You've got a dirty little mind in there!"
"I don't remember you being this rowdy last time." Cyclops said to Storm, his hand on Jean's thigh.
"Tha's because I didn't have time to get rowdy. A few shots and--" Storm mimed hitting herself over the head dramatically. "No sir, this time I'm gonna get as bombed as the rest of ya."
"Gonna? You're already bombed!" Logan declared, by no means cold sober himself.
"I-am-not-bombed!" Ororo exclaimed, punctuating each word with a thump on the bar, "I'm just a little befududdled. I need a couple more before I'm really intosicated." She tried to take a drink from her bottle and discovered it was empty, "Whoops! Hey Lily!"
Several more beers later. . .
"I am not!" Scott drew himself up with pumped-up dignity on the bar stool, "I am perfectly steady!"
Storm doubled over laughing, pounding on the bar before she pointed at Cyclops and exclaimed, "Boy, you are sooooo drunk!" She punctuated the statement with a sweeping gesture that swung her stool in a complete circle and caused Logan and Jean to duck. (Even though Jean was on the opposite side of Cyclops.)
"I am sooooo not drunk!" Scott retorted in an unintentional imitation of Ororo's tone.
That sent Jean laughing hysterically and hiccuping even harder, pointing at both of them and waggling her finger helplessly. Lily Page was cleaning an array of empty bottles, watching the dialogue. Scott noticed and jerked his head at Jean, "`Scuse her, Lily, she's jus' a lil' ineber-inebro. . . she's just a lil drunk."
Logan seriously shook his head, "She's not very sober."
"No." Storm agreed solemnly.
"I am a little bit wasted." Jean announced, leaning heavily on her equally-soused fiance's shoulder. Cyke seemed to think that called for a toast and chinked his bottle against Wolverine's glass, spilling beer into the hard liquor.
"Hey, don' dilute it!" Logan exclaimed, but downed the contents anyway and motioned rapidly at Lily for a refill, "Ya know, Bub, someone's gonna hafta pass out sometime along here sometime!"
"Well it ain't gonna be me if tha's what yer wondering!" Scott replied, pointing his bottle at Wolverine, "I'll show you I can hold my liquor!" He waggled the bottle in Logan's face, spilling some of the beer.
"That stuff's s'posed to go in yer mouth, Scotty-boy!"
"Pay `tention to yer own alc'hol, blub!"
"You couldn't handle thisss stuff."
"What is it? Still bourbon?"
"Nah, stupid, bourbon's not clear. It's Guzzler's gin. Wanna try it?"
"No, no, no, I still got some brain cells left, bub!" Scott declared, throwing up a hand in rejection, "I'm nod gonna let you drink me unner the table."
"You should try it. You'd like it. It's a nice smoooooth drink!"
"Forget it." Cyclops took a large swig of beer instead.
"Suit yaself, bub!" Logan replied and both finished their drinks and called for another round.
Jean had the hiccups again, and Scott tried to cure them by slapping her on the back. "Did thad help?"
"I don' think so, but thanks anyway, Scott-clops."
"Don' mention it."
"Ya know?" Logan mused, waiting until Cyke turned around to face him.
"What do I know?"
"Not a whole helluva lot, but I was just thinking thatcha don' have muchuva life, do ya?" Wolverine took a snort of gin.
"Whaddaya talkin' about! I have a life!"
"No ya sure don't!" Logan replied smugly, "I seen in yer bookshelf and yer desk in yer office and you got nothing interesting ad all!"
Scott smacked his fist on the bar and drew himself up drunkenly, "What the hell were you doin' in my office?!"
"I was lookin' fer your keys an' ya know what, Scotty-boy?" Logan drew himself up to eye-level with Cyclops, "I couldin' find `em! All I found was a book called You Suck by J.J. Sharpe that Jean gave you `cause I guess SHE thinks you have no life too!"
"Now tha's not true!" Jean exclaimed, shoving her beau clean off his bar stool so she could point a finger directly in Logan's face, "I do not think he `as no life! Don't you listen to him, Scott-clops, tha's not why I gave you that book!"
Storm was watching the argument with great interest and finally asked, "Weeeelll, why didja give `im the book then?"
"It's a slatire!" Jean replied, "It was funny an' he thought id was funny too. So don't-you-go-makin'-fun of `im-because-of-thad-book!" she ordered Logan, poking him in the shoulder with each word.
"Yeah!" Scott agreed, jumping back onto the stool, "What she said! An' ya know what J.J. Sharpe says? You suck!" He pointed his long neck again and splashed beer down the front of Wolverine's shirt.
Lily Page glanced at the clock, wondering how much longer they could keep at it before someone crashed. By then all four X-men were too inebriated to have any scruples left. "I still think you `ave no life! Hey!" Logan pointed over his shoulder at the lit pool table, "I'll betcha don' even know how to play pool!"
"Welll. . . . . . .no." Scott replied, and over Logan's snort and Storm's loud guffaw, he snapped, "But I bet I could learn it an' be real good ad it if I wanted to!"
"Brig it on then! Hey, Lily, we need another round an' we're gonna shoot some pools."
"Have fun," the barkeep answered dubiously, but she was chuckling behind her hand as she grabbed three more beers and another gin. Those four kids were going to be sick as dogs tomorrow morning!
The mansion, same time. . .
Aw, come on, girls, where's your sense of adventure?" Bobby Drake demanded, "There's no way we'd get caught and the bartender doesn't even check ID's! It'd be cool!"
"Forget it!" Kitty Pryde snapped, shaking her head in unison with Rogue and Jubilee, "Mr. Summers and the other teachers could be back anytime, and we're all dead meat if they catch us sneaking out! I'm not risking it just to chug a little beer."
"What could possibly happen?" John Allerdyce argued, "They never go out at night unless they're on a mission, and they usually don't come back from missions until the next morning! We'd be home long before anyone missed us or Professor Xavier even woke up!"
"Maybe, but Kitty's right." Rogue said firmly, "They're probably doing something important, and Lord knows they have enough to worry about on their missions without us sneaking out to get drunk and maybe get arrested for drinking underage!"
"Have it your way." John replied and he and Bobby left, "What a bunch of party poopers. There's no way anyone could find out!"
"Well, they are right about the X-men having enough to worry about." Bobby said seriously.
John stared at him, then realized his friend was joking, "Yeah, so we'd better make sure we don't get caught and add to their troubles, eh?" They both laughed and headed off down the road.
Lily Page's Tavern, just a few minutes later. . .
"Okay, now, you've got solids, Cyke. You point your stick at the cue ball. . . the other end!" Logan exclaimed, waving his hand vigorously at Scott to reverse his cue
"Oh." Scott blinked rapidly and tried to concentrate on pointing the very blurry end of the stick at the equally fuzzy white ball.
"Now. . . hid it!" Logan tossed down his drink and went to get another.
Scott tried to hit the ball and missed completely, but he knocked the eight ball right into the pocket. Storm let out a whoop of laughter and thumped Jean rather hard on the back, "I think tha's called an itch."
"Scratch, Storm, it's a scratch!" Logan corrected, coming back with yet another full glass, "Jeez, Cyke, as yer pal J.J. Sharpe would say, `you suck!'"
"I'd like to see you shoot better, mishter, since you probably can' see any straighter than me ride now!" Scott snapped, waving him towards the table.
"Stand back an' let the Mashta show ya how it's done!" Logan took aim and neatly struck one of the balls into the pocket (they were all so drunk that no one noticed that it was a solid and he was supposed to hit stripes.) "There ya go, brainiac, led's see ya top that shot!"
Storm looked thoughtfully at Jean as Scott furiously prepared to shoot again, "Ya know, Logan reminds me of that song, `American Badass!'"
As Jean began giggling again, Logan looked up and shook his cue at her, "That's Canadian badass to you, schweetheart!" He reached down and picked up the cue ball while Scott set the table up for another game.
"More like Canadian dumbass," Scott retorted.
Logan spun wildly around and shook his cue at Scott, "Hey, bub, I may not be able to shoot death rays from my eyes, but I've gotta really big stick!"
"And the balls to go with it!" Storm declared.
That sent all of them into howls of hysterical laughter, and Scott tried again to hit the cue ball, but instead he sort of slid down onto the edge of the pool table, "Oh, did I fall down?"
"No, ya just sorta ssslumped." Jean replied.
"Oh, thad's okay then." Cyclops' alcohol-slurred answer set Storm guffawing and she fell onto the pool table, which set all the rest of them off again.
At that same moment, Bobby Drake and John Allerdyce were walking into Lily Page's Tavern. The place was fairly empty, except for an especially noisy group of drunks over at one of the pool tables, but that was to be expected. Lily looked surprised to see them as they headed up to the bar, "Evenin' boys? What're you doing here?"
"We just want a couple of beers this time," Bobby said, grinning, "We're not planning on passing out or throwing up tonight, I promise." John nodded eagerly.
Lily chuckled, "Well that's more than I can say about your instructors over there. If they were your age they'd all be dead!"
"Huh?" John said in confusion, "What instructors?"
Lily motioned to the pool table as the players exploded into loud, hysterical laughter. John looked at her blankly, but Bobby turned
around. "Oh my. . . oh my. . . oh shit!"
John whirled around and followed his friend's petrified gaze. There around the pool table stood Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Monroe, and Logan, all laughing crazily as Jean tried unsuccessfully to strike a cue ball. Having been students at Professor Xavier's school for some time, the thought that they might be drunk never crossed either boy's mind. "Oh my God." John hissed, "Oh my God, we're dead, we're screwed, oh shit, we've gotta get out of here." He grabbed the immobilized Bobby by the arm, "Come on, dammit!"
Bobby and John made a mad dash for the exit. They were almost to the front door when a voice from the pool table exclaimed, "HEY!!! Hold it right there!"
Both boys froze in their tracks. Footsteps came up behind them, and they slowly turned to see Scott Summers glaring down at them. He folded his arms, "Just what the hell are you two doing in here?"
"Uh. . . ." they exchanged glances, thinking, how the hell do we get out of this? Oh shit, we're dead men!
Mr. Summers stood in front of them like a god of destruction, "You came in here to drink?"
"Uh. . . we were just. . . " Bobby and John exchanged petrified glances, "Experimenting!" John blurted out, and Bobby jabbed him in the ribs.
Scott unfolded his arms and pointed at them, "Okay you two. Let's get something strraight here an' now. You are underage." He paused and both boys nodded in terror, "You are waaay too young to be drinking." He paused again and they nodded again, "You canna' drink `till yer twenty-one and I don' even hafta MENTION the fact tha' yer underage!" Bobby and John glanced at each other in confusion but snapped to attention when Scott raised a finger to start speaking again, "Finally, lemme make one thing exterreeemelly clear. . . " he paused again, and his brow furrowed as though he was trying to remember what he was about to say, "So let me make one thing very very clear--"
Storm slammed an arm around Scott's shoulders and pointed at the boys with a broad drunken grin, "He's sloshed and I'm completely toasted!"
"Excuuuse me, I'm trying to make a ploint here!" Scott exclaimed, shoving Storm's arm off his shoulders. She fell backwards into Logan's arms. Bobby and John were staring at their teachers in utter disbelief when Scott turned back to face them. "Go home. Go home right now. And don't ever come back in here again because you're underage. Now go home!"
"Y-yessir!" John blurted, and he and Bobby all but sprinted out the entrance.
Bobby paused at the door in time to see Jean proudly patting her fiance on the shoulders, almost knocking off his sunglasses, "Scott, that was a show of author'ty if I ever saw one! Ya still got it, babe! Even when you're as schnockered as we are!"
Storm started shrieking with laughter and fell back into Logan's arms again, "I always knew ya'd fall for me eventually, schweetheart! Trouble is I had to getcha derrunk first!" he said, pulling her upright.
"Come ON!!!" John squeaked, grabbing Bobby's arm and yanking him into the parking lot, "Oh my God, we're so dead when they get to us tomorrow morning."
"If they remember!" Bobby murmured in astonishment.
Still at Lily's Tavern...
Ororo was still laughing but Scott reached past her to point his finger in Logan's face, "Now look her, I don't wan' you taking advantage of Storm while she's...like that."
Storm shoved herself out of Wolverine's arms and managed to stand up reasonably straight, "Lllike wwhat?"
"Wha' you said, ssloshed and toasted!" Scott replied.
"Hey, isn't that a quote from a play?" Jean asked, stumbling over with another beer for Scott.
"Uh, yeah, I think it's 'Tumors' by Neil Diamond." Scott said, taking a swig.
"That's 'Rumors' by Neil Simon, ssstupid." Logan corrected him.
"Whatever--hey! How the hell didja know that?"
"Id was on yer bookshelf! With all yer other boooring books!"
Scott gripped the edge of his glasses threateningly, "Watch it, blub, or I mide hafta take these things off!"
"Now, waid a minute, we don' wanna see that!" Storm exclaimed, mock-covering her eyes, "Save it for Jean!"
Scott sputtered for a moment while Logan burst out laughing again. Then he said in a surprisingly stern voice for someone so completely intoxicated, "Ya wanna know something, Storm? Well, I'll tell ya anyway. Yer really, really sick when yer drunk." He stumbled off towards the bathroom.
"Huh? Thanks." Storm mumbled, plunking down onto one of the stools, "Hey, Lily, gimme another beer!"
"You kids are runnin' up quite a bill tonight," Lily warned, handing Storm another long neck, "By the way, who's planning on paying for all these?"
Jean sat heavily on another stool, "Just pud it on my tab!" she said, banging her hand on the bar. She stared at it, "Ow."
Lily blinked, "Honey...you don't have a tab!"
"I don't? Well...all the more reason to pud it there!" She giggled and then added, "Scott's payin'." She and Storm were giggling like preteens when Scott came back, "Guess what, Scott-clops, you're payin' for us."
Scott leaned (or flopped) onto the bar and demanded, "And just hhhow may I ashk, did I get blesshed with this under...honder...honor!" He hopped onto a stool, missed the first time, but managed on his second try.
"Just lucky I guess," Logan said.
"Yeah, we drew straws." Storm told him, then she paused thoughtfully and explained, "But you weren'd here so you didn' draw too well."
"I guess that makes sense." Scott replied. He fumbled for his wallet, "Ya know, I think I've got one of the Proseffor's cwedit cards in here somewhere."
"Cwedit? Ya scwewy wabbit!" Jean shrieked and all four of them fell off their stools, laughing.
Lily handed Storm yet another beer, but asked gravely, "You planning on calling it quits sometime along here? Otherwise you'll still be drunk tomorrow morning."
Storm managed with great effort to get the bottle open, "Tomorrow? Hell, we'll still be drunk into next WEEK!" She accidentally slammed her bottle against the edge of the bar, shattering it in her hand, "Oh my God, I'm bleedig!" She exclaimed, staring at the tiny cut on the edge of her hand.
Scott stumbled over and stared at her hand, "Oh puh-leeze, you're not gonna exsanguinate."
Logan looked disgusted, "Oh my God, you did NOT just use that word in a sentence. Somebody kill me now!"
"I thought you'd never ask!" Scott replied.
"Ya wanna start somethin', Bub?" Logan demanded.
Jean shoved between them and pushed the two combatants apart, "Hey, you two--"
Storm stared at them, "You two need to kiss!" she declared loudly.
Scott, Logan, Jean, and Lily stared at her in astonishment, "Wha'?" Scott exclaimed.
Ororo motioned jerkily at Scott and Jean, "You two are engraged and I have neber eber seen you kiss her. You need to kiss her ride now!"
Logan stumbled over to the bar, "Gimme another! My God, for a second I thought she meant...I cannod even say it!"
Scott was pointing to Storm again, "You reeeally need to quit now, Storm, you are sleriousy getting waaaay to intosicated--"
"Kiss her, you big wwwuss!"
"I am nod going to--"
"--Why the hell not?" Jean grabbed Scott by the collar of his shirt and yanked him towards her. Unfortunately, neither of them had enough balance to stay upright. They collided forehead to forehead and crashed to the ground in a tangled heap.
"Oow! That musta hurt! Are you two okay?" Storm stared at the motionless (and blurry) figures lying on the barroom floor. When there was no response she slowly stumbled off her stool and bent over them, "Hey! You guys awake?" She poked one of them (she was too drunk to tell which) and stood up, blinking at Logan, "Are they dead?" she slurred.
Logan brushed past her, almost knocking her over, and poked them both solemnly. He slowly straightened up. "I believe, it is my opinion, that those two are both...dead."
Storm gaped at him in dismay before exclaiming, "Oh thad's so sad! Oh my God, what're we gonna tell the professor--"
"I meant dead drunk, 'Roro!" Those two are as passed out as...as...two passed out lovebirds can get!" He nodded and tossed down another bourbon, "See there?" He exclaimed, jumping onto a stool in delight, "I knnnnew I'd make it longer than Cyke!"
Storm tugged on his sleeve and scolded, "Ya know, tha's nod verry fair!" Then she giggled again, "But I wanted to beat 'em too so whad the hell do I care?"
"Good way to look ad it!" Logan agreed, "Now how the hell do we ged 'em outta here!"
"Gooood question," Storm thought for a moment. "Cab. And he can pay." She added, pointing to Scott's inert form.
In the kitchen, the next morning. . .
Storm's head was hanging over the kitchen table, almost touching her cereal bowl. Jean had her head cradled in one hand and a huge cup of coffee in the other. Scott was distractedly trying to slice some bread to make toast, but the knife didn't seem to be making much of a dent. A bulk bottle of aspirin was the centerpiece of the table.
The sound of cheerful whistling came floating down the hall. "Oh God, please no." Jean moaned, putting her head in both hands.
"Why, hel-lo, everybody!" A sinfully chipper Logan came bouncing through the door, "Aren't we all just up and raring to go!"
Without turning around, Scott muttered, "I know I'm up and raring to kill." He then took a few more violent saws at the bread with no success. He didn't notice.
But Logan did, "Aw, Cyke, having a little trouble there? Let me help you with that." With a loud SNIKT!, he extended his claws and sliced off several neat pieces of bread. And took great delight in the way Scott flinched.
"Don't want any." Scott growled when Logan offered him the bread. Equally loudly, Logan retracted his claws, "Dammit, Logan, don't do that!" Cyclops snapped.
*My God, when he's really pissed he starts to sound like me!* Logan thought with delight, *Today's going to be even more fun than last night!* Aloud, he exclaimed, "My, my, a little surly are we?" As if struck by a sudden thought, he gestured to the windows, "What you need is some bright, shining sunlight on this fine morning."
He strolled over to the curtains, fully intending to throw them open and watch them all curl up like leeches under salt. Storm's voice, a malevolent snarl, stopped him, "You touch those curtains, Logan, and I swear to God, we'll find out how well that adamantium of yours conducts electricity."
"Jeez, Storm, no lightning please." Scott groaned and put his head on the table.
Logan decided not to test their patience too much and left the curtains closed. But he strolled out the door singing, "Oh what a beautiful mornin', oh what a beautiful day!"
Jean slammed the door shut without lifting a finger. "God helpme, I'm going to twist that adamantium of his into a KNOT before the day's over!"
"Amen." Scott agreed.
Chemistry class, later that morning. . .
"I swear it's true!" Bobby insisted frantically.
"Pfft!" Rogue snorted and turned away from him, "Yeah right!"
"I swear to God!" John put in, waving his hands up and down in frustration.
Kitty slapped her desk, "Of all the ridiculous stories you guys've come up with, that is undoubtedly the dumbest! I can't believe you actually think we'd fall for that. Mr. Summers drunk? Yeah right!" She and the other girls rolled their eyes at each other.
"What do I have to do to prove to you that he really was--"
"Oh PUH-leeze! I'm so sick of this! You guys should at least come up with a remotely plausible story." Jubilee cut him off with a wave of her hand, "I'll believe it when I see Mr. Summers come stumbling in here with a hang--"
"Lower your voice, Jubilee," came an extremely cross order from the back of the room.
The students glanced up as Mr. Summers walked (slowly) to the front of the class, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other. He glanced at his desk, realized he'd forgotten his books, and left the room again. His usually immaculate hair and clothes were rumpled, and there was an unmistakable scowl under those sunglasses. His students watched him leave with their jaws on the floor.
The minute the door closed, Kitty murmured, "No. It's impossible."
Jubilee started to speak, but the only sound that would come out of her mouth was, "Uhhh. . . "
"You believe us now?!" John demanded, throwing up his hands again, "I'm telling you, he's totally hung over!"
"I don't believe it." Rogue breathed, "It can't possibly--no. No, no." She shook her head, in full denial, "There must be some other reason!" She looked at the other girls, who began nodding in desperate agreement.
"He's. . . he's brought coffee to class before!" Kitty exclaimed.
"Yeah, but not black coffee!" another boy blurted, staring at the cup on Mr. Summers' desk.
"Aspirin?" John demanded.
"Maybe. . . maybe they really were on a mission--hey! Maybe he got hurt and you guys are insulting them all by suggesting that they were out drinking!" Jubilee said, more comforted by that explanation than the alternative.
"He almost got dismembered during that one mission last year, but did he come in here with a wrinkled shirt?!" Bobby asked, pointing a challenging finger at the girls.
No one could find an answer to that one.
After lunch, Scott Summers' office. . .
Bobby and John were certain that the moment of their destruction was at hand when Mr. Summers asked to see them in his office. "Oh man, he's hung over, he's mad, and we were underage! He'll fry us!"
Mr. Summers had his coffee and his aspirin sitting on his desk when they came in. "Have a seat, boys." He said in that pretending-to-be-nice-to-cover-the-fact-that-I'm-really-pissed-at-you tone.
Both boys sat. Bobby's chair froze. John winced. "You know why you're here." Mr. Summers said calmly.
Bobby blurted, "Mr. Summers, please let us explain--"
"Bobby." He shut up and Scott continued, "Number one, lower your voice. Number two, I know exactly what you were about to do." He paused and went on, "It was the same thing I happened to be doing." Before the boys could relax, "But that doesn't excuse the fact that what you were doing was illegal. You are underage."
Possessed by inhuman courage, John blurted, "You told us last night."
Mr. Summers glared at him until he nearly set his chair on fire, then replied, "Well, I was right, even if I was drunk." There was a grudging admission in his voice, "Yes, I was drunk. . . okay, I was incredibly drunk, and yes, I'm paying the price today, just like you would have. There are plenty of legal ways for you and your friends to spend your money without--" Scott froze. The boys heard him mutter something that sounded like "money. . . credit card. . . Oh my God!" He buried his face in his hands for a few seconds, and then got up and walked quickly out the room with the iron control of someone who really wanted to sprint out the door. Outside, the boys heard him yell, "Jean! The professor's--" Their next few words were lost, but then they clearly heard Jean hiss, "Oh shhit!" Then there was the sound of feet running off down the hall.
The boys looked at each other and decided they REALLY didn't want to know what that was about. Oh well, whatever it was, at least it had gotten them off the hook. Suddenly the feet came running back, and Mr. Summers poked his head back through the door, "Don't move, I'm not done with you two yet."
"Damn!"
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