Chapter 2
Dedicated to all the fanfiction.net authors and readers who expressed an interest in the original first chapter (this one's different, so if you skipped chapter 1, might want to go back and check it out), and to the patrons and staff of the Bad Girl Bar and Grill(it's a lot like the Subreality café, which is at http://www.subreality.com/ in case you didn't know.) If the BGBG sounds fun to you, stop by! We're at www.badgirlswirl.com, the site dedicated to Cameron Tuttle's Bad Girls' Guides. I still don't own any Marvel types. I own me, and in this chapter, that's all you need to know.
Rachel rolled over onto her side and swore softly as the light from the bedroom window hit her full in the face. Pressing her palms over her eyes, she rolled to a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and braced her elbows on her knees before rising to her feet. After a few tentative steps to make sure her head wasn't going to fall off her shoulders and roll under the bed, she walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee brewing. To the pinging of the coffeemaker, she pulled the cordless phone from its charger and carried it back to the bedroom with her, pausing for a moment to peer into the living room to confirm that Bobby was still out cold on the futon.
"Marie? Yeah, this is Rachel. How'd things end up last night? Yeah, well, just cause he's a priest now doesn't mean he's lived a monk's life...knowing what to do when a girl throws herself at you is kinda instinctive, and he *has* had some practice, y'know? Uh-huh, I know it's cool. Listen, is Clare around? No? Well, hell...Mary there? Where IS everyone? Nevermind...listen, I'll just call Clare's cell...she's always got the thing with her. I need to talk to her right now, but I'll talk to you later and you can tell me all about it. Yeah, try not to do anything you can be prosecuted for. I don't think you really want to get an in-depth cultural anthropology perspective of the inside of the New York state prison system. No, it would *not* be worth it. Listen, I really have to go...but I will talk to you later, I promise!" She hit the disconnect button and dropped the phone on the comforter piled at the foot of the bed, then opened the closet and stared in, hoping for inspiration. Shaking her head, she pulled out a white oxford shirt and a pair of pale caramel brown corduroys. She dropped the clothes on the footboard of the bed and picked the phone up, then hit a speed dial key. While it rang, she picked through the contents of her lingerie drawer until she found a set she liked, which she tossed on top of the shirt. As she settled onto the edge of the bed, the phone's ringing stopped and was replaced by a scrabbling sound and a resounding thud.
"Mornin', Clare. Sorry...I thought you might be up. Oh. Ohh...I see. Well, I just thought I'd tell you that I have to stop by work to pick up my check, and then I'm going to be bringing Bobby by Fan HQ later so Sophie and Sara can get their autographs personally. What? No, nothing happened. We watched some TV, drank some margaritas, and went to bed. No, separate beds. I was just about to go take a shower, then I'm gonna make some oatmeal and wake him up. Nah...man can't hold his alcohol." She snickered, then shrugged. "Oh well, there's always another time. I'll see you later, k?" She disconnected and dropped the phone on the bedside table, then scooped up her clothes and headed for the shower.
A short while later, she emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She stopped in the bathroom doorway and looked down the hall towards her room, then turned the other way and padded into the kitchen, hissing softly as her bare feet hit the cold tiles.
"Morning." The voice came from the kitchen table, hidden behind the high breakfast bar. She crossed the room and leaned against the bar, standing on the tips of her toes to keep from touching the cold slate underfoot.
"Morning to you, too. How'd you sleep?"
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it disordered and sticking up on one side. "Alright, I guess...but there's this one really annoying bar on the futon, right..."
"Under the pillow? Yeah, sorry about that. I meant to tell you, but...I forgot," she finished with a shrug. "I'm sure you understand."
He grinned, then raised a coffee cup to his lips and smirked at her over the brim of it. "Yeah, I just bet you forgot."
She glared across the bar, then turned to get a cup of coffee, which she carried to the table. "You drank the last margarita. I had to get back at you somehow, didn't I?" She sipped from the mug, then set it down on the table and laced her fingers to stretch, catlike, against the edge of the bar. "So I have to go by work today and pick up my check, then we can stop by HQ...that ok with you?"
"Hey," Bobby shrugged his acquiescence, "I'm the kidnappee here...you obviously haven't done nearly enough of this kidnapping stuff."
"Not enough of it?" She sank into the chair and stared at him, incredulous.
"Well, yeah. And since I wouldn't want anyone saying I don't do my part for education...how about kidnapping me again on Friday? You know, so you can learn from your mistakes last night." He met her eyes and one sandy blonde brow rose in challenge.
"Who says I made any mistakes? You're here, aren't you? How about this- I'll pick you up on Friday and we'll do somethin' fun."
"Do I get any hints?"
"Not a one. You get to wonder for the next three days."