Chapter 11: Warm Welcome
Dean pulled his car up to the massive freaking front gate of the Xavier Institute. God, what a place! It was frigging huge! The gigantic iron gates parted to let him drive in, closing again behind him. There was a lighted circular drive right in front, so Dean pulled up to the front door. Why not? He worked here, right?
Giving his baby an affectionate pat, Dean headed for the front door of the mansion.
"At least you're not talkin' to it." Logan's voice startled him before he could press the button for the doorbell.
Dean swung around to see Logan step out from around the side. "Hey, kid."
"Hey, fuzzy," Dean greeted warmly. "I don't see any other cars. Where am I supposed to park?"
"I'll show ya later," Logan promised. "You're late. The Professor's been waitin' on you to eat."
"I'm late?" Dean demanded. "He never gave me a time to be here. How the hell can I be late?"
"You just are." Logan shrugged and walked up to push open the front door. "Welcome to the Institute, kid."
Dean followed Logan through a ritzy front hall with an amazing wooden spiral staircase to the back of the mansion. A big carved wooden door stood open to reveal a fancy dining room complete with white linens and a room full of people. Oh, crap.
Dean shook out his shoulders to loosen up before stepping through the doorway.
"There he is!" Professor Xavier called out jubilantly. "I knew he wouldn't be much longer. Please..." He indicated two empty chairs on his left. "Join us. We were just discussing your new course."
Plastering on one of his innocent smiles, Dean led Logan around the table. They took their seats at the same time, Logan letting out a soft grunt which was no doubt supposed to be sympathetic.
"We are all very anxious to hear what you have planned for tomorrow, but first allow me to explain one thing," Professor Xavier announced. Dean watched him patiently while a waiter in a white suit, just like in a fancy restaurant, walked over to fill Dean's glasses with water and wine.
"Got any beer?" he whispered to the waiter with a wink.
The guy's expression didn't change, but he winked back and left the wine glass empty.
"There is a need for secrecy, as you are well aware," the professor told him, sounding an awful lot like some classroom lecture. "Therefore we all have codenames. I think, at least for the time being, it would be wise for you to know the others here only by their codenames, and the same will go for you."
"For me?" Dean asked. "You want me to have a codename?" Was this guy freaking serious?
"Oh, I am quite serious and I believe I have picked out the perfect one for you. I do understand the need for privacy in your line of work as well." He motioned to the other side of the table, where a guy with a rod up his back wearing funky colored sunglasses, indoors, sat. "This is Cyclops." He motioned to the red-headed woman beside him. "Uh, well, Jean. Jean, we really must choose a better name for you."
She laughed lightly. "Oh, I don't mind, Professor."
"Storm is next." Storm was a striking woman with gorgeous dark skin and brilliant white hair. Hot. "Down there at the end is Beast." A dude with blue fur, freaking fur!, raised a glass to him. "Next to him is Nightcrawler." It looked like blue was the theme down there. "And you know Logan already."
"Everyone, it is my pleasure to introduce the instructor for our new Urban Camouflage class, Hunter."
Dean didn't have time to suppress the chuckle that erupted over his codename. Hunter? Really? Can you say, no imagination? That was about the time the waiter dude returned with a cold bottle of beer. Dean nodded his thanks, however he had a feeling he would need a lot more alcohol than this before the night was over.
"I take it from your reaction that Hunter will be suitable?" Xavier asked.
Dean gave the professor a look he hoped pulled off a cross between awe and amazement, because everybody here seemed to revere this guy. "Yes, sir."
Even the dude with the funky sunglasses and the rod up his backside seemed to relax a little after that. The food was awesome, Dean asked for thirds of everything. The tense atmosphere in the room settled down while they ate. Dean told about how he and Logan met during a hunt, subtly skipping the explanation of what he had been hunting. Logan griped about the love affair he had with his car, to which Dean acted embarrassed even though he wasn't, encouraging the others to share a laugh at his expense. People felt better about you when they could laugh at you. He wondered what kind of classroom activity would drive that point home.
Cyclops and Jean exchanged little looks and glances during the meal, their hands brushing occasionally. Definitely knocking boots. None of the others were, but it was clear they all knew each other pretty well. He also had the distinct impression that Logan and Cyclops were not exactly friends. Oh. Did Logan have the hots for Jean? Bummer. Well that meant she was off-limits for sure.
"Tell me, Hunter," Beast asked from the far end of the table, "you have decided on the topic of your first class, haven't you? It is scheduled for tomorrow."
"Sure." Dean grinned as he popped a chunk of roll in his mouth.
"Are you to keep us in suspense?" Xavier demanded. "Or will we need to show up to find out?"
There were a few amused chuckles, but Dean had the feeling that at most only one or two of them would actually take the professor up on the implied offer. Cyclops seemed a little too amused, his laughter too loud, like he thought Dean's class would be a joke.
"How to act at ease in a totally foreign environment," Dean replied, shooting a brief but hard look at Cyclops, which worked perfectly. Jean nudged her elbow into the man's side and whispered to him, most likely telling him to back off. Dean gave her a look of thanks, not long enough to be flirting but enough to convey the sentiment, before returning his attention to Beast.
"Really?" Beast asked, but with all the fur Dean couldn't tell if he was interested or just being friendly. Man, it was really weird, bizarre, to be sitting around chatting with something that looked like some of the things he had hunted down and killed. "And how does one act at ease? Is there a formula for it?"
"You could say that," Dean replied in earnest. "For example, someone invites you into an environment you've never been in before. Of course that's the easy way, but let's start from there. You enter the new environment quietly and don't make any aggressive motions, following the lead of the person who invited you. If you can, tell some amusing stories, especially ones where people can laugh at you. It works even better if you can lead someone else into telling the laughable story about you. When people feel they can laugh at you, they feel more comfortable around you, like you're not a threat. Then you act normal, as if you dined in fancy places with white linens and real napkins everyday, even though the truth is you've never even seen real crystal," he picked up his empty wine glass, "in person before."
A stunned silence settled over the room, everyone frozen in place. A lone clap shattered the spell. Dean's head snapped to the side and Professor Xavier clapped again, a smile forming on his chiseled features. Dean replaced the wine glass on the table, picking up his cold bottle of beer instead.
Xavier laughed at him again. "You already have the job," he said loudly between laughs, "please stop auditioning!"
Dean shrugged in reply with a grin as he lounged back in the uncomfortable carved wood chair. "Honestly, Professor, half the time I don't know I'm doing it."
"But it certainly does seem to work." Xavier peered at the others around the table. "Wouldn't you agree? Did not you just feel, before the explanation, that Hunter had the potential of really fitting in here?"
"I can not speak for the others," Beast said, "but I certainly did. I would never have suspected the sensation had been engineered." He scratched thoughtfully at his head. "Would you mind if I sat in on a few of your classes? To observe? I am now most fascinated."
"Tell me, Hunter," Storm spoke up before he could answer, her eyes literally flashing when she spoke. Even her voice was hot. "How long have you had this skill?"
"Since I was a kid." That was a damned personal question and there was no freaking way he would give it a straight answer. Dean shrugged it off, as if people asked him frigging personal crap every day.
"Have you always been so accomplished in it?" Storm continued.
"Nah." Dean chuckled a little. "Got my ass kicked enough times that I started to figure there had to be an easier way."
"Your ass kicked, huh?" Cyclops asked with a chuckle. "Imagine that."
"Is he always like this?" Dean turned to ask Logan.
"Pretty much," Logan said in an undertone, his fork pushing uneaten mashed potato around on his plate.
"Huh." Dean tilted his head to one side to regard Cyclops, no longer really caring if he seemed to fit in. He decided the guy was just an asshole. Next Dean really checked out this dining room. It was fancy, but had no personality. There was nothing to distinguish it from some other mansion with dark paneled walls.
"Is everything all right, Hunter?" Xavier asked him.
"Huh?" Dean's head whipped around to look at the professor's confused expression. "Oh, yeah. I was just wondering what the rest of this place looks like."
"Well, how horribly rude of me." Xavier rolled backwards from the table. "If you have finished eating, please allow me to show you the areas of interest and your quarters. I believe you are next door, Logan?"
"Yep." Logan stood up with Dean. "I'll come along. I need to show him where to park his car."
"You have your own car?" Cyclops asked as they moved toward the door. "Civic?"
Dean snorted loud at him and shook his head without bothering to answer. His baby ate Civics for breakfast. He eyed Logan after they were in the hall.
"Civic? He was kidding, right?" Dean demanded. "Because I could go back in there and kick his ass."
Logan chuckled at him. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy watching it, kid, but not a good idea. He shoots lasers from his eyes. That's why he wears the glasses."
"Cyclops is also well trained in hand-to-hand combat," the professor added.
"Yeah, well," Dean glared over his shoulder at the door to the dining hall, "so am I."
"Yeah?" Logan used the back of his hand to slap Dean's shoulder. "What kind? I could use a decent sparring partner."
"Dude, you are so on," Dean replied with a grin.
Logan waited at the interior door to the garage so he could show Dean the tunnel back to the mansion. It was strange, but when Dean first arrived he had seemed, well, normal. Then he got kind of weird during dinner, putting on a show for the others Logan guessed, but at the end there turned back into his regular self. And the best part? Dean didn't like Cyclops either. Maybe he wasn't the only person who thought Summers was a jackass.
"Hang on," Dean said, motioning for him to step closer.
"What? I thought you were tired?" Logan demanded, watching the guy he recruited, his first instructor, spread his feet in a fighting stance.
"Nobody can see us in here," Dean replied with a shrug as he took off his jacket and dropped it on his duffel bag. "Let's see what ya got."
"Now?" Logan glanced around. It was a little creepy to spar in a dark garage. "You're serious? Kid, you're a little weird, you know that?"
Dean chuckled at him. "How about if I promise to take it easy on you?"
Logan groaned as he moved to face Dean, hands up.
"No claws," Dean stated. "Right?"
"Right," Logan sighed. "Get started already."
Dean lifted his hands. "It might take me a few times to figure out your style."
Logan rolled his eyes. "Making excuses already? I hadn't laid a hand on you yet!"
Dean's head shook and a real serious look came over his face. He motioned for Logan to start. Okay, whatever. Logan struck out with his right, intending to pull his punch at the last second, but it was diverted. Huh. Lucky. He tried his left, with the same result.
"Hang on," Logan insisted. He removed his outer shirt, dropping it on a workbench. "Okay, I'm ready now."
"You weren't ready before?" Dean asked with a teasing smile.
"Shut up and fight, kid," he snapped. Dean's hands were actually faster than his mouth, and Logan wouldn't have believed that possible. Hands, arms and fists flew through the air, lashing at each other and being blocked again and again before reaching their targets. Just as Logan started to really get into it, enjoying himself, Dean stepped away.
"Okay, okay," he panted, rubbing at his left upper arm. "You're good."
"Not so bad yourself. You know," Logan added with a grin, "for a kid."
"Ha. Ha." Dean rolled his eyes, his right hand diving out to snatch his jacket and duffel bag off the floor. Logan grabbed his own shirt, pulling it on before they hit the tunnel. The kid rubbed at his left arm again as they walked through the tunnel.
"Hurt your arm?" Logan asked.
"Nah." He chuckled. "Just been a while since I had a decent sparring match."
"You call that decent?" Logan snorted. "Bub, that was amateur night."
"I know," Dean replied. "I didn't say it was a good match. Man, I didn't think I was that out of shape." He rolled his shoulders. "I don't suppose there's a work out room too?"
"Sure," Logan told him. "I'll show it to ya sometime tomorrow. It's kind of late and I got an early session in the morning."
"Do you know where this common area I'm supposed to have my class tomorrow is?" Dean asked as they exited the tunnel and headed for the stairs.
"Sure. We'll pass it on the way." Logan glanced over. "Why? Want to get the lay of the land before your first day?"
"Something like that." Dean looked straight ahead, and Logan could not tell if the kid meant it or not. One thing was for sure, there was no way he was missing the kid's first class tomorrow.
Dean slipped out of his room in the dead of night. The mansion was eerily quiet. He made his way down the long corridor to the common rooms. The one designated for his class had a huge sectional couch which could probably seat ten or twelve, a big screen television, an air hockey table and a small pool table. Toying with the idea of letting the kids walk in on him shooting pool, Dean eyed the television. Surely with a kick-ass setup like this, they had the capacity to record.
He located the remote and turned it on, careful to keep the volume all the way down. A flashing light on a rectangular black box caught his eye. Recorder. Yahtzee! Dean checked through some of the tapes other people had recorded and found one of a regular season hockey game, which had to be a few months old since it wasn't hockey season. Perfect. Dean tucked the tape under his arm, putting everything else back the way he had found it.
His left arm kept complaining, sore and bruised muscles from the wendigo knocking him around. It might be a couple of weeks before he would be back in top fighting form, but stalling Logan that long could be a problem. Actually feeling excited about teaching kids the kind of lessons he had had to learn the hard way, Dean returned to his room and the lumpy mattress with pristine clean sheets. There had been a class list waiting in his room for his arrival and now he studied it, committing the names to memory. Funny how the first time he really studied was for a class he was teaching.
