There was an unexpected knock on Bobby Drake's office door.
"Oh man, I've got to stop grading papers naked!" He lamented aloud, for the benefit (or detriment) of whoever was rap-rap-rapping on his door. But he was, in fact, 100% completely wearing clothes.
He grabbed up a stack of papers with one hand and rustled them vigorously, to make it sound like he was busy, while he poked his foot at a wooden clothes-pin mounted on the wall, which released a piece of string that immediately set into motion a Rube Goldberg machine of rolling marbles and ramps, dominoes and pulleys, rubber bands and pencils, magnets and springs - even the ceiling fan made a contribution to the overly-complex contraption that ran up along the wall, across the top of the room, then finally fulfilled its intended purpose of unlatching the door. Just like magic! Man, was telekinesis for suckers, or what?
"Oh, no." Bobby pushed himself up straighter in his chair as the door flung fully open, revealing his 'guests'. "Not you two again…" He shook his head, quickly backing himself and his chair over to a duffel bag of gym (or 'Danger Room') clothes. "I already admitted my big secret the last time you 'meddling kids' came in here… So what is it this time?" Bobby quickly slipped on a pair of sport socks then jammed tennis shoes on his feet. "Did you find out that I always wanted to have my own ice cream tru—urk!"
"Why are you freezing him?!" The younger, time-travel-displaced version of Bobby Drake asked in horror, as he watched his older counterpart struggle against the sudden invisible bondage that had interrupted and impeded his movement.
"'Temporarily paralyzing' him." Young Bobby's companion - the also-young, and also-very-much-time-travel-displaced redhead Jean Grey - corrected him. "And - because he was literally going to run away screaming!"
Stop reading my mind! The older Bobby chided Jean, as loudly as he could think.
"Stop reading his mind!" Bobby the Younger whined simultaneously.
Jean pouted, then reluctantly relaxed her telekinetic grip on Iceman Senior, so he could actually do some talking instead of thinking.
"Fine, look, I won't go anywhere." Bobby pledged to the duo, while he laboriously finished tying his shoes.
"Lying~!" Jean muttered through her teeth.
He gave her a look that said Duh. then sighed. "Okay, so what? Why are you here?"
The two young mutants looked at each other hesitantly.
Jean started the entreaty: "We want you… to be our…"
"…Professor X!" Little Iceman beamed triumphantly.
"Our mentor." Jean rephrased it. "Like Professor Xavier."
"That's what I said." Bobby Jr. gave her a look. "Isn't that what I said?"
"Nope. No way." Present-day Bobby Drake fervently waved both his hands in the universal sign language for 'That's a negative, Ghost Rider.' and coughed. "I know I look sort of bald when my head is iced up, but there ends my similarities with dear old Chuck." He stood up rather urgently. "See, legs still work! You're outta luck, guys."
Jean flicked young Bobby a meaningful glance.
Older Bobby swallowed somberly. "Please don't break my legs."
"…Then please be our Xavier?" Bobby the Younger gave his older self the hopefullest look he could muster. It worked on most people; but it's possible he'd be immune to his own powers.
"You're serious." Bobby Drake sighed at his mini-me. "Me? - Why me."
"Because it's my team," Jean piped up, crossing her arms defensively as she set to work bashfully smushing the toe of her boot into the floor. "And I decided that we want you. You're the best person for the job."
"I'm really not qualif—"
"You're an Omega-level mutant, Professor Drake. And you know everything that's happened to all of us - me, you, Scott, Warr', Hank." Jean sighed. "And, you still believe in everything that Charles Xavier ever taught you…" She pursed her lips. "Don't you?"
Bobby suddenly felt kind of old, staring at teen Jean and baby Bobby. Even if they hadn't decided to stay here in the 'future' - he wouldn't want them to fail to become the good people he knew they could - would - be. (He was obviously a bit biased about himself, but still.) Maybe he could actually do something about it, with them here, now. Make sure that Jean Grey survived; that Scott… wouldn't do all the stupid stuff that Scott Summers would otherwise do; that he would finally reach his own potential; that Hank McCoy wouldn't lose touch; and that Warren Worthington the Third wouldn't lose himself. …Could he really do any of that?
"Do you know who our alternative is…" Fun-size Bobby whispered conspiratorially at his Elder self, then without waiting for a guess, groaned loudly, "Magneto! The evil magnet guy!" The boy scoffed, completely exasperated at the thought of it. "C'mon! That guy should be doing infomercials; not the leader of the X-Men, mutant heroes for justice for all!"
"The 'mentor' of the X-Men, you mean." Jean sniffed. Bobby still hadn't quite got the semantics that she was the leader of the team.
'Old' Bobby sat back down in his chair and rubbed his hand over his face wearily. "You guys gonna call me 'Professor Drake' the whole time?"
Jean shrugged. "It'll get confusing otherwise."
Little Bobby remarked excitedly to his fiery teammate, "I think he's gonna say 'yes'."
Or run away screaming.
I heard that, Professor Drake.
Stop reading my mind!
…Sorry.
Professor Bobby Drake sighed. "Let's go meet the team."