Of course these are not my characters; they belong to Marvel. I'm just playing around with them. This is a work in progress; please give me any feedback you have. Thanks for your time!
REVISION: I decided to change the timeline; I originally planned on the two getting together around the time the show took place; I've since changed it. This first chapter is relatively un-changed, however, it's good to review if you liked it and want to keep going to the next few chapters. Have an opinion? Please, let me know!
Want to know my frame of thought? Like my muse, Songbook, I listened to 'Antartica' by The Weepies while writing this chapter.
The Date
Ororo flopped onto the couch with a sigh, staring with a mixture of disgust and sadness at the tickets in her hand.
"Vi! Of ALL the times you would cancel! It would HAVE to be NOW!" she thought.
She hadn't really paid much attention to the library's occupant when she had chosen this spot to indulge in a little self-pity. It was a Saturday morning, well before ten o'clock, and her sister had stood her up on their monthly "date". Since Jamaal*, she hadn't really gone out at all and this monthly outing with her sister was her brief escape from the cocoon she'd weaved about herself. She huffed, and then realized she wasn't alone; isn't it nearly always the case that when we expect to find ourselves alone, we find the most attentive of audiences instead? Charles regarded her pity party with a raised eyebrow, the book in his hands momentarily forgotten.
"Oh! Charles! I'm sorry; I didn't realize you were here—I hope I'm not interrupting…"
"Of course not," he replied, a small smile on his lips. "You seem upset. Is everything okay?"
Under normal circumstances, she would've waved off his concern with a "Oh it's nothing." But today…
She sighed and smiled, looking at the stubs of paper in her hands.
"It's nothing terribly important; it's just…well, it's mine and Vi's date," she air quoted, "night, and, well, I really was looking forward to this event. And she's cancelled."
"Oh?"
"Yes, well, you know, it's not a big deal, but we've had our Saturday morning dates for months, now. It's nothing big; we just go out and see a movie and then have lunch. I only just bought these tickets yesterday; she was SURE she was going to come, but then…oh well," she sighed resignedly.
Charles regarded her for a moment, then closed his book and asked, "would you like someone to go with you?"
She giggled, replied, "are you saying you'd like to watch a movie with me? And maybe have lunch…if you play your cards right?"
He chuckled, smiled, "I am assuming your tickets are non-refundable?"
"They are not."
"Well then, if you'd like my company, I'd be more than happy to ensure you didn't lose out on—"
"Fifteen dollars."
He covered his growing smile with his hand. "You don't want to go by yourself?"
"No one wants to go by themselves to see a movie, Charles. That's just silly. I would love to have you come along, but I'll warn you, my tastes are very eclectic," she beamed.
"Alright then. I'll meet you in the garage in—"
"Twenty minutes," she answered, and jumped up to get ready. She turned at the door, looking back at him, "Thank you."
He smiled in reply.
As they moved along the driveway and out onto the main streets, Ororo couldn't help but be excited. She had known Charles for many years and loved him, albeit in different ways, the entire time. He had saved her as a child from a life of slavery under the foul rule of the Shadow King, had re-united her with her sister, despite the wishes of the Hungan, and moved her to the United States at nineteen. He'd worked with her to pass her GED. He'd taught her to drive. He was the one who'd gotten her into college and paid for it, although it was under the guise of a scholarship from the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. At some point, Charles had become more to her; maybe it was that night, standing in the rain she had called forth in her pain, her suitcase in one hand and her cat, Pharaoh, mewling pathetically in his cage in the other. Maybe it had always been; after all, Jamaal had always accused her of senselessly comparing him to Charles (she had scoffed at this at the time). Regardless, she had spent the last six months rebuilding her life, and her best friend in the whole wide world had been there. But wasn't he always? At every point in her life when she simply could not carry on, Charles had somehow appeared and rescued her. Now, she was going out on a "date" with him; now he was going to see the things she really enjoyed. Would he think her weird? She had never before worried about what he thought—well, that wasn't entirely true—she cared tremendously about what he thought; she just hadn't ever sought his opinion as a mate. What if he thought she was weird?
The movie ended, the credits beginning to roll. The lights faded back into existence, illuminating the passageways between chairs. Charles peered over at Ororo, who shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile.
"I had no idea you were a horror film fanatic," he said.
"I am rather fond of them," she smiled, continued, "I actually have been a big fan of '80s slasher films…oh…since my first semester of college."
They began to move out of the dimly lit room and into the hallway of the aging theatre. They exited and began moving towards the parking lot, expounding all the while on her penchant of horror flicks.
"I just love the cheesy plot lines and complete lack of character development. And the blood! Goodness, it's so unrealistic and no one would just ignore some madman skulking about their house with a giant knife! And yet, these films keep getting made! I can't get enough of them. Anyway, my friend Bruce introduced to me the Reynolds Theatre and its weekly horror showcase. I've been hooked ever since."
"Can you still manage some lunch after all that blood?"
"Charles, please. I'm a professional."
He chuckled and they looked around for a place, spotting one just up the street from the theatre. The sign hanging out over the street read 'Amore'.
"Have you ever tried that place?"
"Never."
"Would you like to?"
"Of course! This is adventure Saturday**, Charles!"
They moved down the sidewalk and towards the bar, noting the small stores that filled some of the retail spaces, the ones that were empty, and the ones occupied by bars that were not open at noon Saturday, as a general rule. There were consignment shops, antique stores, high-end art galleries, low-end art galleries, the pair of competing record stores, and at least three women's boutiques. They passed a salon that had its doors propped open in the hopes of catching some non-existent breeze. Ororo sent one their way in the name of Karma. The air was filled with the smell of new nails and town gossip, and it was hot. The New York summer could be stifling at times, and this day reveled in making its subjects experience it. Sweat began to bead on her lower back; she could only imagine how Charles felt in that jacket of his. They reached the Amore sign and Ororo opened the door into the bar. Charles wheeled himself inside and they waited for the hostess.
"Would you like to sit inside or outside," the hostess asked.
Charles looked to Ororo, who promptly replied, "outside, please."
The bar itself was an old East coast building. It was longer than it was wide, and the interior felt a little cramped. The patio area of the bar, however, was double that width and just as long. It was cobbled and sported a pergola that was the main bone of contention in a war fought viciously by ivy and honeysuckle vines. All of the four outdoor fans were on, simultaneously ensuring the air was circulated in the stifling heat and also that the smoke from the only other patrons of the bar would not inadvertently offend any newcomers. The smokers were suspicious, as smokers are when forced to share their dwindling space with non-smokers in an establishment dedicated to eating. The woman narrowed her eyes and focused on the pair, looking for signs of anti-smoker sentiments.
"Hi, I'm Dawn. I'll be your waitress for the evening," the waitress asked. "Can I get you anything to drink or do you need a few moments?"
Charles checked his watch then replied, "I'll have a dirty martini."
The waitress wrote, "and you?"
"You know, I have never had a martini. What are they like?"
"Like a lot of gin," the waitress replied, her nose scrunching at the thought.
Charles smiled, "it's gin, vermouth, and, in the case of mine, a bit of olive juice. If you don't like gin, it might not be the best drink to order."
"I'm not really sure if I do or not. I'm sure I've had it at one point, but I really don't recall."
"Gin tastes like Pine-Sol. A vodka one's alright though," the waitress added helpfully.
"I thought it was adventure Saturday," Charles chuckled.
"Alright, I'll do it. I'll have what he's having."
The waitress shrugged and took down the order. "A couple of waters too?"
They nodded and she left, moving to the other couple on the patio.
"So, Vi likes horror movies too?"
"Not in the least. Our visits are monthly; I pick the activity one month and she gets to pick the next month. Hers, as you can probably imagine, usually include a mall and very tiny bits of food on plates. Zero carbs. Does gin have carbs?"
"I don't think so."
At the mention of martinis and carbs, the drinks arrived along with their waters. The waitress took their lunch orders and then checked on the other couple.
Ororo took a tentative sip and Charles watched her intensely.
"Well? What do you think," he asked.
"It's...," she thought for a moment, "it's okay. Actually not too bad. Okay so, why a martini?"
Charles smiled, said, "They're considered the great American contribution."
"Contribution to what?"
"I assume alcoholism." They laughed, sipped, and he continued, "did you know that if you ask for extra olives, the bartender will never give them to you in pairs? It always has to be an odd number. For instance, if I had asked for extra olives, the bartender would've given me three as opposed to two."
"Really? Why is that," she asked, sipping at her drink.
"It's considered unlucky to have two olives," he replied, and took a drink.
"I didn't know martinis were so deep."
"Well, I don't know about deep, but now you know as much as I do when it comes to them," he said.
She smiled, took another drink, then said, "okay, it's your turn. You know about my weird obsession for horror flicks; tell me something about yourself I don't already know."
He replied, "what?"
"Well, isn't that the point of a date? To find out more about the other person?" She smiled at him demurely.
He cocked his head, thought, then replied, "Yes, I suppose that is the purpose. Okay, something you don't know about me. Hmmm...I have to think about this."
"Take your time. I'm dying to know some dirty little secret of yours."
As he thought, their food arrived. They ate in relative silence, commenting on the trivial and on the overly-suspicious smoker woman.
"I feel as though she's about to just come out and ask us if her smoking bothers us. But not like in a 'I'll-put-this-out-to-appease-you' sort of way; more like a 'I-dare-you-to-confront-me' sort of way."
Charles choked a little on his food, recovered, smiled, then said, "I think you might be on to something there."
They ate a bit more in silence until Charles, setting down his fork with confidence said, "I've got it."
Ororo looked at him expectedly.
"My hair was blonde," he said triumphantly.
There passed between them a moment of silence, Charles happy that he'd come up with something and Ororo digesting that information. She said nothing. His smile, which had been wide and unexpected, faded. He cocked his head to the side, grew thoughtful then said, "You're imagining me with hair, aren't you?"
Ororo burst into a fit of laughter. "Yes...actually...yes...I was trying to imagine you with hair! I must say, that is one thing I never knew about you that I didn't know I'd always wanted to know."
Charles laughed. Not a chuckle, not a smirk. He actually threw back his head and laughed. It was good to see; she had never seen him laugh like that. His shoulders dropped and he was beaming at her. It was as though his protective shield had gone; she was now interacting with the man beneath that shell. And that man was wonderful. He reached across the table and took her hand. They continued their meal in amiable conversation, but it was the best she had had with him ever.
Charles pulled the car into the garage and they both got out. She patiently waited as he maneuvered himself into his chair and then, once he'd shut the car's door, walked beside him as he wheeled towards the elevator.
"I had a lovely time today."
"Despite the copious amounts of blood, so did I," he replied.
"Would…would you care to do this again sometime?"
"I would be delighted."
*Oh yeah, I changed names, too.
**When I read it, it makes perfect sense. My husband and I have "Adventure xxDayxx" where whenever work allows, we just go out and do new things. Those days aren't always the same, so it might be Adventure Saturday one week and Adventure Monday the next. Anyway, it's great and you should try it.