BOBBY AND THE BEER
He should have known better. (And at the same time he kicked himself for sounding like his mom.) But honestly, when a Cajun and a Canadian invite a good ol' American boy for a few beers, he really should have known better. At the time it sounded like a good idea, although in the back of his mind he had to wonder if they were inviting him merely because they couldn't find anyone else? He didn't exactly fit the type of 'beer buddy'.
But he went along anyway. He stressed in front of his mirror just in case a decent looking female happened to be in attendance (and maybe glanced in his direction by accident). Not that he could get a word in edge-wise anyway if Remy was with him. He combed his hair back slick, then ruffled it up, then parted it and laughed at the Alfalfa look he created. He eventually finger combed through his damp hair while he blow-dried it and shook his head for an 'I'm-so-cool-I-don't-stress-about-my-hair' look. He switched shirts at least seven times and finally settled on his first choice; which was a fitted tan tee-shirt. He chose his favorite, slightly loose jeans and polished his black boots until they looked more like patent plastic than leather. Slinging his black calf-skin jacket over his shoulder, he winked at himself in the mirror and gave himself a once over. "I'm such a nerd." He sighed.
He loped down the stairs to find Logan slumped against the doorframe with his ever-present cigar smoking from his mouth. Remy was staring at his watch and tapping his foot in a dramatic fashion. Bobby took a breath to steel himself.
"Did you finally figure out what the big hand means Remy?"
Remy was about to retort but instead gave Bobby a scrutinizing stare. "You been up dere dat whole time, and dis is what you show fo' it? Damn, you worse den Rogue is."
Bobby fought to keep from blushing and searched his mind for a snappy comeback. "Yeah, but I'm prettier." Okay, he could've done waaaay better than that.
"You two lovebirds can continue this stimulatin' argument in the car." Logan growled from underneath his cigar. "If we don't leave now, we miss happy hour." He swung open the door and stepped into the blinding light, flicking open his sunglasses and sliding them on his face in one unbelievably cool maneuver.
Remy grinned at Bobby from underneath his Oakleys. "Now you can see how de big boys drink."
Bobby searched his pockets for his sunglasses and then remembered that they were conveniently placed atop his dresser in his bedroom. Not wanting to keep the impatient Wolverine a second longer, Bobby ditched the idea of running back up and instead suffered the painful glare of the sun while his two cohorts looked eternally cool in their shades.
He sat in the back of the car, and for once in his life Bobby found himself stammering for something witty to say. Not that it was ever that witty in the first place, but still…
Logan kept his eyes fixated on the road while Remy blabbered away about new motorbikes, videogames and the latest Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Bobby managed to make a few impressive comments about how to advance in Diablo II, but other than that he wasn't really making headway. He didn't know anything about motorbikes other than the fact that they scared the crap out of him and someone – but he wasn't naming names – stole his swimsuit edition. Although he may sneak into Remy's room and have look around now that the thief discussed the magazine in great detail.
It wasn't the most savory bar he'd encountered. From the scores of Harley Davidsons surrounding the outside of the joint, Bobby knew that his carefully constructed look had just flopped. He followed his two confident teammates into the bar, darting his eyes back and forth and taking in the warning glares from several groups of very hostile looking men. The smoke filtering the air burned his eyes and tickled his throat. He attempted to stifle his cough only to find himself choking on it. He began hacking.
Logan turned around and eyed him severely. "Hairball?"
Bobby's face was red from the exertion. "Smoke." He croaked and pointed up at the ceiling where the smoke swirled and pooled in a hazy grey.
"You aren't allergic, are you?" Logan asked.
Bobby shook his head quickly and concentrated on suppressing his coughs.
"Good." Logan led them further into the bar. "Cuz they don't have a patio here."
Despite the horrific display of people who shouldn't be wearing skin-tight leather wearing skin-tight leather and the bland blues music that droned from a worn-out jukebox player, Bobby found himself settling into the environment. A couple of beers helped. And shots.
Suddenly, he found himself joining in with the conversations that Remy and Logan (okay, just Remy) were having. He even found them laughing at his jokes, although he couldn't remember just why they were so funny in the first place. It must have been his delivery.
The overweight and grouchy-looking waitress with an 80's style mullet brought them another round of Molson Export. Logan sneered at the alcohol content, but silently reminded himself that it was the closest thing to back home. Bobby personally thought that all beer tasted the same, but he didn't dare bring the subject up with Logan unless he wanted to have three adamantium claws in his ribs. Logan held to his theory that Canadian beer just tasted crisper, clearer and didn't take as many to get you drunk. Bobby could agree with the last one.
Logan looked up suddenly and sniffed. Bobby wondered furtively if he should ice up. But then Logan tapped Remy on the arm and nodded in the direction of the pool table. "It's free. You up for a rematch, bub?"
Remy flashed a devilish grin. "Mon frére, if you are so quick to lose, why wait?" Logan snarled in his direction and picked up his bottle, sauntering over to the pool table. Remy lingered by the round table and looked down at Bobby. "You wanna play Drake?"
Bobby shook his head quickly. "No, that's okay. I wouldn't want to embarrass any of you."
Remy knew just as well as Bobby, that Bobby couldn't play on a hope or a prayer. It was just as well. As soon as they were out of sight, Bobby noticed her.
If Pamela Anderson had a younger sister, she was definitely leaning on the bar right now. She had legs that went on for miles, unfortunately covered by a tiny white minidress that hugged her body. Her body was fake-n-bake no doubt, her hair was bottle-blonde, even her breasts probably had some help, but right now Bobby couldn't care about au natural; he was in superficial love.
As he drooled over her backside, her layered blond locks tossed back and forth. His eyes slowly traveled up her body to where her face was, and with a mixture of shock and awe, he found himself looking straight into her eyes. She was looking at him. And she wasn't glaring or calling the police either. She was actually smiling at him. He quickly looked behind him to see if her boyfriend was there, but no, she was looking at him. She laughed softly at his self-conscious behaviour and to his absolute mortification he saw her approach him.
She stood in front of him and he felt his jaw go slack. She held a Budweiser in one hand and let her french-manicured nails dance across the back of Remy's chair. "Is this seat taken?"
He couldn't remember if he spoke English or not, so he shook his head quickly. She smiled at him and gracefully sat down, crossing her legs at an angle so he could see every inch of her stems. "Are you here alone?"
He knew he shouldn't lie. "Yup." But screw it, a beautiful woman was talking to HIM, not Remy, but Bobby Drake.
"My name's Angela."
Bobby stared blankly at her. She took a sip of her beer and smiled at him. "Do you have a name?"
"Bo…ba…Bobby." He stammered.
"Bobby." She repeated. "I like that." And she rubbed her thigh.
"Me too." He said breathlessly.
She threw her head back lightly and laughed with the most musically lilting voice he'd ever heard.
"Bobby's talkin' to a girl." Logan announced with a mixed look of fascination and worry on his face.
Remy smirked at Logan and then looked for himself. "Maybe we should go help him." The Cajun started forward with a lustful grin before Logan held out an arm to stop him.
"Nope. Lets see how the kid does."
The two stared wide-eyed at the accountant talking with the goddess.
"Twenty bucks says she go running to de cops in five minutes." Remy whispered.
Logan cocked an eyebrow as he glanced at Remy. He looked back at Drake. "You're on."
He was talking to a gorgeous girl and so far she hadn't run screaming from him. All in all, Bobby would have to say that it was going well. The beer bottles were cluttering their table, and Bobby had all but forgotten that he had arrived with two other men. What were their names again? Who cared.
Angela looked up past Bobby and rolled her eyes. Bobby followed her gaze to a table not too far behind them. "What?"
Angela shook her head as she took another gulp of her beer. "Nothing. Just that guy has been giving me weird looks all night."
Bobby turned around to glare at the offending party, and indeed he found the guy to be a little creepy himself. He was slightly built with long greasy hair and a continuous smirk on his face.
Bobby faced Angela with a cocked eyebrow and as much confidence as he could muster. "You want me to take him out?" He said in his best John Wayne impression.
Angela laughed heartily and slapped Bobby on the shoulder. "Oh Bobby. You're so wonderful. You make me laugh." She downed her beer with a long gulp and stood up, rather wobbly. "My turn. I'll buy this round."
Bobby shrugged. "Twist my rubber arm."
He watched her prance over to the bar and admired her backside. She caught him peeking and gave him a little shake, which made Bobby nearly spit his beer out. She giggled and turned back to ordering.
Suddenly two very strong hands clapped him on his back, making him jump. He immediately relaxed as Remy and Logan pulled up their chairs.
"So were you going to introduce us?" Logan said with a mischievous grin.
"Yeah homme. You being kinda rude tonight." Remy scolded with an equally mischievous grin.
Bobby sighed. "I was going to, but we just got caught up talking and – "
"Well," Remy sighed as he stood up with Logan. "We just have to introduce ourselves den, I guess."
"No, guys, wait-" Bobby stood up quickly, knocking over a few bottles and barely noticing. Remy and Logan were in the process of turning around when they saw the man standing by Angela and the look of worry on her face. She searched the bar for Bobby.
"Oh no." He breathed.
Logan and Remy shared a glance and then looked back at Bobby. "We'll handle this." Logan announced as he cracked his knuckles. Bobby stood to the side as Logan stood in front of the man and Remy wrapped a deceivingly friendly arm around his shoulder. The man's eyes darted from Logan to Remy and back again and although he frowned fiercely, the fear was evident all over his face. Remy and Logan walked with the man until they were well out of Bobby and Angela's way. Remy looked as though he might be whispering words of encouragement to the man, but Bobby knew how deceptive the thief could be with people he didn't like.
Angela looked frazzled. She blew out the breath she'd been holding, glaring at the receding image of the man. Then she looked at Bobby and smiled. "I thought you were here alone."
Bobby shrugged. "I thought you didn't know that guy."
Angela picked up their beers and walked back over to their table. "It's a long story. Lets just forget about him. So, tell me more about you."
Bobby was feeling fantastic. He had just walked (staggered) Angela to the outside of the bar and hailed her a cab. They both slurred their goodbyes and she pecked him on the cheek. His eyes grew wide and despite his inebriated state, he blushed furiously. She slipped her number into his jacket pocket then giggled ridiculously as she flopped into the back of the cab.
He watched her go, still blushing, and even waved as the cab sped away. And then it hit him.
Literally, it felt like something hit him. The world suddenly blurred around him and he felt the horizon take a sickening slant. He flailed his arms for some sort of support and before he took a dive backwards he felt someone take hold of his back and stand him upright.
"You alright homme?" Remy had one hand on his back and another grasping his left arm.
Logan looked at him accusingly. "Thought you said you could hold your liquor, pup."
Bobby missed his own face entirely the first time he tried to rub his eyes. The second time he managed, but not without stumbling back a step. Remy tightened his grip on Bobby's arm as Logan's eyes narrowed.
"I'm gonna be sick." Bobby announced.
Logan nodded at Remy who led Bobby back inside and to the men's room. Logan watched them go with trepidation. He sauntered back over to their table, examining the empty wayward bottles with blatant suspicion. He picked up Bobby's last bottle, swishing the remaining liquid around and sniffing the top. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Something smelt wrong…
"Damn kid! How much you had to eat tonight? You got to be about finished now." Remy called from outside Bobby's stall.
Bobby slumped over the toilet spewing up all his stomach's contents and groaning after each retching spell. When he thought his nausea had subsided somewhat, he attempted to stand and failed miserably. He fell through the unlocked metal door and would have fallen into the sink if Remy hadn't caught him. Bobby mumbled his thanks – at least he thought he did – and leaned over the sink. Remy turned on the cold water and studied the young man with concern.
Bobby splashed the refreshing water on his face, feeling temporarily relieved. He squeezed his eyes shut as he lifted his head and wave after wave of dizziness hit him. He must have swayed a little too, because Remy placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Easy Drake."
Slowly, Bobby opened his eyes and nearly doubled over from the sight of his reflection in the mirror. Even with high-powered beer goggles on he could see that he was a vicious mess of a pisstank. His face was paled and his hair stuck to his forehead by his sweat. Dark circles ringed his eyes and he had no desire to even guess what had stained the front of his shirt.
"Oh this is so not cool." He muttered.
"Yeah." Remy agreed. "You an ugly drunk."
Logan burst into the bathroom clutching Bobby's last beer bottle in his right hand. "We gotta get him outta here."
"No, really?" Remy had an overly embellished bewildered look on his face. "I was t'inking maybe we just make him a nice bed here, non?"
It was at that most inopportune moment that Bobby Drake decided to pass out.
They could have made a clean, quiet entrance into the mansion. Remy could have sneaked them into the medical wing. They could have even bribed Hank McCoy's silence from him with Twinkies and a few medical books. Unfortunately, at a school run by an all-powerful telepath, sneaky entrances aren't exactly easy to come by.
"And did you have fun?"
The lamps flicked on with a mere thought and flooded the entranceway with light. In front of the haphazard trio sat a poised and serene looking Professor Xavier in his wheelchair, and standing beside him was a fuming Scott Summers. Remy and Logan collectively sighed and knew that this could be a record-setting lecture. Then Bobby threw up and Charles got a very alarmed look on his face. Scott just looked more pissed off than before.
"Scott, go get Hank. You two, bring him to the medlab."
The two hauled the blissfully unconscious Bobby between them and followed Professor Xavier.
"Look, Charles. I think Bobby may have drank something. He's been drugged…or something." Logan accurately surmised.
"Or something." The Professor repeated and hit the down button in the elevator.
Hank tapped the IV hanging above Bobby's bed and placed an oxygen mask over his face. He frowned as he lifted up a drooping eyelid and shone an annoyingly bright light in the young man's eye. Bobby gave no response. With a furry blue paw, he lifted the limp right wrist of Drake and timed the pulse to his own wristwatch. Replacing the arm on the bed, Hank gave a comforting tap on his friend's shoulder before picking up the clipboard beside the bed and thoughtfully humming over the results.
"Well, doc?" Remy prompted.
Hank didn't look up but continued to study the sheet and paced at the foot of Bobby's bed. "I won't know much until the tox screen comes back. We should have some more conclusive answers then."
"Hank?" Hank responded immediately to the sound of the Professor's voice. "May I speak to you for a moment?" Hank nodded and led the Professor to a secluded area of the medlab.
Scott wheeled on the two men still standing. "What the holy hell were you thinking?!?"
"We were thinking we'd have a beer." Logan stood up to Scott until he was less than a foot away. "So sue us."
Scott pointed to the young man lying motionless on the sterile bed. "You could have killed him!"
"He nearly gets killed everyday!" Logan shouted back.
Remy stepped in between the two men and faced Scott. "Our intention wasn't to kill Drake, Scott. We jus' wanted to have a beer wit' him, is all."
Scott cocked his head with sarcasm. "Is that all. Well I'm sure he'll be itching to go hang out with you two just as soon as he wakes up from his coma that you put him in. Honestly, you two." He sighed in disappointment and was about to walk away when Logan's voice called to him.
"He's a grown man Scott. Not just the class clown anymore. You can't keep treating him like a kid."
Scott's shoulders shook with anger. He whirled around and Remy swore his red glasses actually glowed more than usual. "I don't treat him like a kid. I treat him like a teammate."
"Really?" Logan took a few confident steps forward. "Is that why you're always inviting him out?"
Scott shook his head slowly and Remy could feel the palpable tension crackling in the air. For a moment he thought the medlab might become the danger room but he needn't have. Scott slammed open the door and strode out.
Consciousness came slowly to Bobby, and when he finally managed to open his eyes he immediately regretted the action. With a pained groan he brought his hand up to shield his bleary eyes from the harsh light surrounding him.
"And how are we feeling?"
"Hank." Bobby croaked. "What the hell happened?"
"You were drugged."
Bobby smirked and tried to sit up. Still shielding his head with one hand he laughed cynically. "No, I was drunk."
"Granted." Hank shrugged. "But you were also drugged. Tox screen came back positive."
"For what?" Bobby became quite distressed.
"GHB." Hank saw the confused look on Bobby's face and was about to pronounce the Latin version and launch into the full explanation of the drug and its effects but wisely decided against it. "The date rape drug."
Bobby let the hand fall from his face as his eyes widened. "Someone tried to rape me?" Hank was decidedly unsure how to approach the subject, but Bobby let his eyes fall to the bed. "Well they didn't need a drug for that." His head snapped up and he winced at the pain it caused him. "Angela drugged me?"
Hank smiled sadly. "I spoke with Logan and Remy, but no, I don't think it was your blonde companion. My understanding is that an altercation took place between her boyfriend and herself. My guess is that either he drugged you out of spite, or the drug wasn't intended for you at all."
"Creepy." Bobby said quietly. He was about to settle into another blissful sleep when he sat up in bed with a start. "I have to call her! What if he got to her?"
Hank laid a restraining hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down into the bed. "Professor Xavier already sent over Logan and Scott to make sure she made it home alright."
"Did she?"
Hank was a terrible liar. "She did." He stood up quickly and made for an escape.
"What happened? Didn't they tell her what he did?"
Hank made a quick, furtive glance in Bobby's direction. "They did."
"Well?" Bobby was motioning with his hands for Hank to continue.
"He was there."
Bobby's mouth fell open in shock. "But didn't they…I mean…she hates the guy, right?"
Hank couldn't bare to face his friend anymore. "Apparently not. They went home together. She said that last night was a…slip-up on her part."
Bobby's face fell as he sunk back into the pillows silently.
"But she said she hoped you were feeling better."
The end.