A/N: Thanks to MirrorFlower and DarkWind, Azzy494, luna2k and EloraVashara for reviewing! It's very much appreciated and gratifying to know that people are enjoying this story! Originally, I did not plan on having them get married. But then the characters took over, and when they arrived in Vegas, Charles just sort of blurted that out (he's a very fun drunk). A lot of the Bangkok stuff is from Hangover (like Chow, the missing person and finger, the tattoo stuff, the monkey, the monk, the undercover cop and the strip club) but much of the rest is purely my twisted imagination lol.
Yesterday, after they had finished eating and drinking, and mysteriously got drunk, even Bobby, who had not had one drop of alcohol...
"Man, it is hot in here!" said Charles, fanning himself with a napkin, not aware of how ridiculous it looked. They had just finished sharing dessert.
No kidding, Bobby thought. He could fix that easily. He never made ice in public before, but right now he could not think clearly think of why, so he didn't worry about it. "I'll fix it for you, Prof," said Bobby, making an ice block and handing it to him.
"Thanks, Bobby," said Charles, dabbing at his face and neck. He gave it to Erik so he could have a turn with it. Erik took it without comment, grateful for his friend's thoughtfulness.
Bobby beamed, happy to be of help. He could not remember his gift being so appreciated, other than by his late grandfather. He couldn't seem to care about it much about it right now though, which was odd.
"What do you say we get some air?" suggested Charles. The diner suddenly seemed boring and rather confining. He couldn't remember why he'd decided to come here in the first place, but that didn't seem important now.
His companions agreed, and they all started walking down the street, where they met Emma Frost.
"How are you feeling, Charles?" she asked in a strange tone they couldn't figure the meaning of.
"Splendid, splendid! I'm here with my bestest friends, having the grooviest time! Or we will, once we find something exciting to do..."
"What are you doing here, Emma? I thought you were supposed to be in France," chided Erik. He couldn't remember why he was here with Charles and Bobby, but he did remember that much.
"I'm here to help you with Charles. I found out he was interfering with your recruiting and I thought it was high time we took care of that. I slipped him some things in his cake to make questioning him easier."
"What?" said Erik, anger making his thoughts more coherent.
"Better start soon. He's not going to live for many more hours, you know."
"WHAT?" roared Erik. He couldn't fathom any reason as to why she wanted to hurt Charles, though something teased at the edge of his mind. Weren't they enemies? But that didn't make sense, they were here, having such fun together... "In his CAKE? But, Bobby and I shared his cake with him!" He was still too confused and in too much shock to think about retribution yet.
Charles frowned, vaguely confused as to why she would want to kill him. That wasn't very nice. She was so pretty though, he couldn't be mad.
Emma was a bit taken aback that all three of them had been dosed, but recovered. "Well, then, none of you got the full dose, so you'll all live. But, you'll be worse than drunk for several hours and you might reach a point where you can't use your abilities. That's okay, I can still question Charles for you - The man I got the poison from said it would totally inhibit his ability to understand the consequences of his actions and make him very forthright about things -"
"I will be happy to answer any of your questions!" said Charles brightly, not remembering why that would be a bad idea and deciding it wasn't important. "But first, I would like to fly Air Force One."
Back in the present moment...
"We didn't!" exclaimed Charles, horrified. He had been the one to make the famous airplane disappear?
"We did!" said Bobby gleefully.
Charles hid his face in his hands for a moment, before forcing himself to continue to look at the photos and videos, one memory after another being triggered.
Back to yesterday...
"Air Force One? Why that?" asked Emma, confused.
"Because then I'll be the president! It'll like, be my chariot! Erik can be my vice president, and Bobby can be my secretary, and you can be...well we'll find something for you!"
Emma couldn't read his mind, it was way too chaotic for that, plus Charles was blocking her automatically. She felt confident she could maintain control of him, but she hadn't counted on this side effect. It looked like she wouldn't be able to get anything out of him unless she agreed to help them steal the president's airplane. "Fine. I'll call Azazel."
Azazel appeared, then took them all to the airport, right outside the gate where the military plane was kept, before disappearing again. Bobby, having no clue that teleporters even existed, stared around in utter amazement.
Charles was not the least bit fazed by the swarms of security guards, cameras, guns, and various other things protecting the plane. "This will be just like in the movies!" said Charles enthusiastically. He concentrated for a few moments, telling people to vacate his plane, then turned to Erik, confused. "Erik, why do you have no brain?"
"What?" Erik could do nothing but stare at Charles, flabbergasted. What in the world had merited that comment?
"Everyone else - I can feel their brains. I can't feel yours though," Charles complained.
"It's his helmet," explained Emma.
"That doesn't make sense. Helmets are supposed to protect your brain, not make it disappear!" argued Charles, thinking himself quite logical.
Emma really didn't want to have this conversation, but a plan formed in her mind. "Look, it doesn't matter. But I promise you, if he takes it off, you will feel his...brain."
"Your brain isn't very nice," Charles complained in response.
Emma gave him a disbelieving look.
Charles turned towards Erik. "Take off that abomination. I can't tell you how disturbing it is to talk to someone with no brain."
Emma watched maliciously as Erik struggled with his helmet, not realizing at first that it was welded to his head. He had a vague notion that it was that way for a reason, but it didn't seem as important as pleasing Charles right now. Frustrated, he finally resorted to using his powers, and it came flying off, then abruptly dropped to the ground.
Emma had been waiting for this moment a long time. He didn't have Riptide to bail him out this time - now was her chance to take over. She was much more ruthless and effective than Erik was. For instance, she would have no problems with killing Charles. Erik had shot down every suggestion to imprison or harm Charles she had made, ignoring her pointing out that he was a rather large hindrance to their plans. With herself in charge, that would change. Questioning Charles first was important however, so she would know what kind of plans he had set in motion against them.
She had not counted on Charles rushing to Erik's defense.
"You, you, bloody, bloody... bitch!" said Charles, scrambling for the right words as he defended Erik's mind from Emma's telepathic attack.
Emma had severely underestimated Charles. Sober, Charles held his power back considerably, his natural empathy preventing him from doing much harm or using much force even in defensive situations, giving her the impression that she could control him easily. However, due to the drug, he now had no inhibitions to his impulses, poor judgment, no understanding of consequences, so the full might of his talent was unleashed.
She was no match for him. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her head, then passed out after a few seconds.
"Oh, dear," said Charles, feeling vaguely like something may have gone wrong. "Well, at least she won't bother us anymore," he concluded, deciding that it wasn't important and he wouldn't worry about it.
Besides, he had Air Force One to fly!
Erik, meanwhile, stared at Charles. He couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling that something phenomenal had just happened. But what? It was too difficult to piece together, so he decided to give up on it.
Bobby watched the whole exchange with morbid fascination. This certainly had been the most eventful day he could ever remember and it seemed things were just getting started!
"All right!" said Charles, clapping his hands together eagerly. "First things first! Take out the security cameras!"
Immediately after Charles's proclamation, Erik felt weird impulses and whisperings in his brain. He couldn't think of one good reason not to go along with them, and he found he couldn't fight them anyway, so he didn't feel much concern as he used his power to crush every security camera within range of Air Force One.
"Excellent," said Charles cheerfully when he was done guiding Erik, the last camera destroyed. It was easy to find them by reading the minds of the security people. Bobby, their friend or whomever he was, was busy taking pictures, finding the whole thing very cool and exciting. Charles was pleased. He could scrapbook this all later! "Excellent, excellent, just smashing! Oh dear, it seems we've upset a few people..."
Indeed, people were now running around frantically, trying to figure out why all the cameras had suddenly combusted and were about to call a red alert.
"I hate it when people are unhappy! Why can't they all just be happy?" complained Charles. "I'm going to fix it."
Suddenly, everyone in the vicinity of the airport dropped to the ground with the exception of the three of them.
"Looks like I overdid it," said Charles. The way he said it, though, you'd think he'd merely done something like run a little further than he was prepared to, rather than make thousands of people collapse. "Oh well, I'm sure they could all use a nap anyway."
Erik agreed with this and thought his friend very kind for providing them with rest.
"Erik, my friend, could you please open the gate for me?" Charles asked. He didn't bother entering his friend's brain this time, he felt sure Erik could accomplish this by himself.
Erik reached for the gate in front of them and ended up not only tearing the gate aside, but fifty feet of fencing along with it.
Charles beamed. "Points for enthusiasm, Erik!"
"Your wheelchair wouldn't have fit," Erik responded simply.
They entered without resistance. Alarms went off, but no one other than them was awake to hear it, so they paid it no mind.
"There it is! Look, there's even a ramp for my wheelchair, how thoughtful!" Seeing no reason to wait, he wheeled himself towards the airplane. His dream was about to come true! "I do believe I'm about to become the youngest president ever!"
The other two followed him in. "Erik, if you would," said Charles, gesturing towards the door. Erik shut it with a bang.
"Now we're going to take off!" said Charles gleefully. "My presidency begins!"
Erik felt some concern - not pressing, but it was present. "You know how to fly this thing?"
"Of course, I downloaded it all from the pilot straight to my brain!" He tapped his temple for emphasis. "No worries, my friend!"
Erik, who had made sure to bring his helmet with him (the importance of that coming through even his addled state) set it down by the pilot's chair as Charles rolled up to the controls. The pilot's chair was in the way though. "Erik, could you please -"
Erik ripped the chair out of the way and flung it to the wall with a clang.
"Thank you, my friend!" Charles said brightly. He started up the plane, giving commands to Erik and Bobby along the way to get it rolling. He wasn't always sure if he did it verbally or telepathically, but it didn't seem to matter really, so he didn't worry about it. No one was in the plane, having vacated it at Charles's telepathic suggestion the moment they arrived, so they were good to go!
