Disclaimer: Marvel owns 'em, and I know Bobby's not real. This is just for FUN, people...so review and let me know what you think.
Setting: A residential neighborhood slightly north of New York City,
immediately after the events in Ice Princess Deluxe's When Fans Attack 2.
The metallic-gray Miata zipped through the darkened streets, illuminated in flashes by the overhead streetlights. The two occupants were silent- the driver concentrating on the road, the passenger concentrating on the driver. Then, the passenger spoke over the low hum of the car's engine and the wheels on pavement. "I feel like I'm abandoning my teammates or something. You sure we shouldn't go back for them?"
The girl in the driver's seat lifted a hand from the gearshift of the car and patted him on the knee. "Bobby, tell me something. Do you really feel like you need rescuing?" She slid her hand further up his leg as she waited for his answer, and smiled innocently as he wiggled and choked out a negative response. Dropping her hand back on the gearshift, she turned the car down a quiet street lined with houses. She parked the car in the driveway of a small cottage with a postage-stamp lawn and motioned for Bobby to stay in the car for a moment. She stood and looked around the front yard for a moment, then leaned into the car. "You can get out now. You're safe."
"So says the woman who just kidnapped me."
"I didn't see you protesting. I can take you back to your bed at the mansion if you'd like. Your single, solitary, lonely bed. Or, alternately, we can go inside and have some of those margaritas I mentioned."
"Well, you know...Viva tequila!" She grinned at him, then stepped onto the porch and unlocked the door. In a swift flurry of motion, she shrugged out of her coat and hung it and her keys on a peg, then pulled out a small velvet covered book and fanned it open.
"Would you mind? Sort of as a consolation prize to the rest of your fans over at Fan Central? I was supposed to take you there, but I thought this might be a bit less alarming for you. Not to mention more fun for me." She smirked and gave him a suggestive once-over, then walked down a hall and into the kitchen, kicking off her sandals as she went. Bobby followed her into the kitchen and grabbed a seat on one of the breakfast bar stools. She dropped the book on the bar in front of him along with a pen, then turned and opened the refrigerator. She stared into the fridge for a few minutes before straightening and turning back to him.
"You want anything to eat? I know you guys stopped at the diner, but...Lydia was giving us a damn play-by-play, and she didn't mention ya'll ordering anything."
"Uh, yeah...she was scary."
"So we noticed. She was also stupid, but we won't go into that now. She's going to be suitably punished, no worries."
"Suitably punished? Don't, like, hurt her or anything." Bobby looked at his hospitable kidnapper appraisingly. She didn't look dangerous. Of course, none of them had looked like they could organize the kidnappings of several mutant superheroes. Obviously, in this scenario, looks could be deceiving. But really, who carried out kidnapping plots in leather pants, strappy sandals, and tiny tank tops?
"Suitably punished means she has to act like a Jean fan." She grinned evilly at his visible wince. "Hair dye and all. And if someone REALLY pisses us off...drag out the skull earring and the big pants." He reddened, and she leaned across the bar to rub the back of his hand. "But let's not talk about that. You want food, or not?"
"Uh, yeah...that'd be great. You need any help?" He stood, then stopped. "What? I'm not allowed to help?"
"No, it's not...It's just...I dunno. I wasn't expecting any help. Besides, I cook for a living. I think I can handle finding you some leftovers." She had the grace to look mildly abashed before she leaned into the fridge and pulled out a Gladware container. She stood up and tossed it across the kitchen island to Bobby. "Tamales. Made 'em today at work. Good stuff, if you're into Mexican."
"I'm into edible. And Twinkies. Got any Twinkies?" He opened the container and dropped the tamales on the plate that seemed to have magically appeared on the island countertop, then grinned when one of the indestructible pastries landed beside the plate.
"Microwave's in that cabinet if you want that warmed up. I'll be right back. Gotta get the liquor if we're gonna have margaritas." She left Bobby staring helplessly at the complicated microwave controls. He was still staring when she reentered the kitchen and placed three bottles on the counter.
"How is it that I can operate Shi'ar technology and I can fly the Blackbird, but a microwave has me beat?" He rubbed the side of his head and watched expectantly as she punched buttons and started warming the food. While it spun around on the microwave turntable, she opened a cabinet and pulled down two large margarita glasses, a saucer, and a flat container of kosher salt, which she set on the countertop beside the bottle of Curacao. She tipped the tequila bottle over and poured a tiny bit onto the saucer, then dipped the rims of the glasses first in the liquor and then in the container of salt. Holding one up triumphantly, she grinned. "Good to know work bartending skills are useful at home, too." At his puzzled look, she elaborated. "I work in the kitchen of the Bad Girl Bar and Grill. I don't usually make drinks, but I fill in if we're really busy and Lorena, the regular bartender, is feeling swamped."
"Sounds reasonable. Shall I?" He tapped the side of the bottle her hand was resting on, then waited while she filled each glass with the perfect combination of margarita ingredients. When the microwave pinged its readiness, she pulled the plate out, peeled off the plastic wrap, and set it on a tray loaded with silverware, the now-frozen drinks and their bottles of origin, and the unwrapped Twinkie.
"C'mon, let's eat in the living room. There's a Johnny Bravo marathon tonight!" She shoved the tray into his hands and bounded into the living room ahead of him. She jumped onto the futon to turn on the torch lights on either side, then pirouetted around to grin at him as he entered the room.
"Nice, innit? I love that I enjoy my job as much as I do and they still pay me enough to afford this. Don't tell my boss, but I'd do the same work for half the money- it's a nice gig, and it's never involved the wearing of spandex."
"Shove it."
"I could say something crude there, but I'll refrain." She bounced from the futon onto the floor, then collapsed against the pillows on the futon. "Sit down, eat your food."
"Geez...pushy hostess. Do I get to fill out a comment card around here? I'd like to offer some suggestions to the management." He settled the tray onto the glass-top coffee table and sat down, then fell over backwards as she crawled along the futon and across him.
"I have a suggestion for you, mister. Watch the TV, eat your food since you're sooo hungry, and then...we'll see."
Bobby gulped, then leaned over her for one of the margarita glasses. After a fortifying gulp, he nodded slowly and fixed his eyes on the TV, where yet another woman had just shot Johnny Bravo down cold. Rachel grinned, then turned her attention to the TV as well.