Disclaimer: Marvel owns 'em, except for Susana and the Bobbymuse who helped with this section

Disclaimer: Marvel owns 'em, except for Susana and the Bobbymuse who helped with this section. Yay, Bobby! Keep it up, and I just might go buy those Twinkies you wanted. Yay for Amanda, too, for the basis of the Sam/Sarah conversation. I've never read anything with them in it, so she helped me out- if they're out of character, blame my rewrite skills.


Notes:

sound
*thought*
} telepathic conversation {

Setting: Several hours later, still in the Cabaret

"Uhh...Mistuh Summahs, suh..."

"The namesh Schott, kid." Scott slurred before reaching for his half-filled beer mug. As his face tipped level with the tabletop, Logan passed by and casually clapped a hand on his back.

THUNK

He didn't pick his head back up again. Sam watched the entire sequence of events in bleary yet wide-eyed amazement. "Mistuh Logan, he's..."

"He ain't dead, kid...Jeannie'd never forgive us fer that. He's just passed out. Fearless leaderin' obviously don't build up the liquor tolerance any." Logan clipped the end of a cigar and lit it, then took the beer mug Scott had been reaching for. "Shame to waste this...." He downed it, then blinked repeatedly. "Damn. I'm amazed he wasn't out sooner. This is actually good stuff." He leaned back in his seat and looked at his watch, then cursed softly. Scanning the room, he saw that Hank and Warren seemed to be the only other sober members of their group. Jono had leeched off of Angelo, which meant that both of them were just tipsy enough to be terminally stupid. Getting the lot of them to the cars without incident was, Logan thought, about as likely as he and Sabes sitting down for a nice tea party...but he felt an obligation to try. He didn't think Jubes would react well to him leaving Angelo in a strip club. Come to think of it, she'd probably disapprove of his being in the strip club, period. Oh well. Kid's helpin' his best friend celebrate. Can't fault 'im fer that, can ya?* It sounded unconvincing even in his own mind, but he shrugged it off. *I'll deal with Jubes when we get back. Right now, why don't I get Warren and Hank to help get them out of here and into the cars.* He glanced over and caught sight of Remy attempting to crawl onto the stage. With a long-suffering sigh, he hauled himself from the chair and over to the side of the Cajun's table. Grabbing the back of the younger man's ever-present duster, Logan hauled him back from the edge of the stage. "Cajun, we gotta get goin' now."

"But, homme...Gambit gotta say g'bye to de gorgeous femme dat was just here. She gon' be back out any minute now. Gambit know it!"

"Trust me, Cajun, y'ain't 'gotta say g'bye' to anyone." Logan tightened his hold on the jacket and pulled his teammate towards the door, stopping as he went to catch hold of Sam's arm. The Kentuckian followed compliantly, which was a welcome change from Remy's struggles to break away and head for the stage again. "Worthington, Hank...get Scott, Bobby, and those two," he gestured to Jono and Angelo, who were currently ogling the curvy blonde waitress. "I'll meet ya outside at the cars."

"But, my hirsute compatriot, I should think you the perfect candidate for bringing Bobby out to the car."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"To put it bluntly, your healing factor makes you more able to deal with the adverse effects of ice wedgies."

"He's your best friend, Hank. Get him and meet me at the cars." Logan turned back to the door, pushing the younger mutants before him.

"Well, my avian coconspirator, I suppose that is that. Try not to do any permanent damage." Warren nodded, then grinned in a slightly less condescending manner than was usual before crossing the room to the table where Angelo and Jono were seated.

~Across town, at Guilty Pleasures all male revue~

"Well, ladies, it's been fun, but I think we should consider heading home now." Jean, ever the mother hen, looked around at the assembled women slouched on barstools and in chairs and shook her head. "But maybe a stop at the diner on the way back is in order. I think most of us could use a cup of coffee."

Susana made an annoyed face, exaggerated by the effects of several cocktails and a couple of Jell-O shots. Jubilee found it amazingly funny and dissolved into giggles, causing Sarah to roll her eyes and mutter something about 'stupid upworlders'. Nat, concentrating intently on peeling the label from her beer bottle, ignored them all, looking up only when Jean telekinetically shoved her chair away from the table.

"Huh? Oh. Sorry...are we leavin' now?" She continued scratching absently at the label as she waited for Jean to answer.

"Yes, we are. You've only had 2 of those, right?"

"Yeah, and the first one was when we got here, so it's been a while. I think I'll be ok. But you can check if you want." Jean did so, and nodded.

"You're fine. We're going to stop at the Denny's on the way back to the mansion- you saw it on the way over, right? Anyway, we're going to stop because I think most of us could benefit from a cup of coffee and a little time to sober up before we go home to face the guys." She turned to see who else was driving. *Betsy has had a few too many, but Emma would never overindulge if it meant that she might not be in complete control of the situation, and Rogue didn't want to risk getting too obnoxious...plus, she's the only one who could physically make Monet do anything she didn't want to. Ok, I think we're ready to go now.* She shooed everyone to their respective rides, gave directions to the out-of-towners, and climbed in her own car. "Seatbelts, everyone!"

~~The road directly in front of the Salem Center Denny's~~

Logan glanced in the rearview mirror at the sprawled Cajun occupying all of the back seat. He stuck an arm out the window of his Jeep and hoped Hank and Warren saw him. When they followed him into spaces in the parking lot, he grinned and hopped out. "I think we oughta take a while to let the rest of 'em sober up a bit. We bring Scott in like this, Jeannie'll have our heads. And I don't even want to see what Jubes and Rogue'll do."

"An astute observation. Robert, please unfreeze the seat and get out." He walked around the car to pull the semi-lucid Scott from the passengers' seat. "Come along, my inebriated colleague. Let us get you sobered up a bit before you have to face your wife."

"Muuhhh..." Scott turned his head from the car and threw up, then looked up at Hank and blinked. "Sorry. Coffee...sounds good." He reached a hand up and rubbed his forehead, then steadied himself on the car door before teetering over to the curb of the restaurant sidewalk.

"Worthington, that sound alright to you?" Warren grunted assent as he dragged a woozy Angelo out of the backseat of his Mercedes convertible. Making a face at the dirt that had gotten onto the floor mats of the backseat, he shoved Angelo towards the restaurant. Jono, who had been able to get out of the car of his own volition, followed. Logan pulled Remy over his shoulder, much to the other man's dismay, and headed in, Sam trailing after like a drunken puppy.

~~10 minutes later, in the parking lot of the Denny's~~

Sarah watched as the various team members climbed from their respective cars and tottered across the parking lot. She'd only had a couple of drinks, and was thus far more steady on her feet than some of her teammates. That, unfortunately, was not going to get her out of the mild headache she could feel starting in the back of her head. *Eh, what's a little pain compared to seein' all the prettypretties drunk and stupid?* She glanced across the lot, then jerked her gaze back to a specific vehicle. *That's the old man's Jeep. And that probably means that the Benz is rich boy's and that the Oldsmobile is Blue's.* She grinned, then steeled herself not to say anything. This was gonna be fun. She sauntered across the lot and into the restaurant, where the rest of the women had gotten a table in the non-smoking section. As she walked up to the table, a distinctive Cajun yell came from the other side of the restaurant.

"Roguey!" Sarah sank into a chair at the table across from Rogue's booth and watched as Remy ambled over. With the careful, deliberate movements of someone used to being drunk, he wove between tables, servers, and the crowd of night owl teens at the next booth over, only to walk straight into the divider that separated the two booths. Since Remy's a tall guy, it hit him in a rather unpleasant area. He paled and stumbled back, then staggered into the empty seat beside Rogue, whimpering in pain. To her credit, Rogue didn't laugh, although her lips did twitch a bit.

"It's ok, sugah. You just sit here, and when ya can talk again, you can tell me bout what ya'll are doin' here this late." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and let him lean against her while he recovered.

Sarah rolled her eyes again. *What is it with these stupid romantic upworlders? Fallin' all over each other like they're all the best thing since sliced bread...it's ridiculous.* She scowled into the coffee mug in her hands and watched as the various team members drifted back and forth between the sections of the restaurant. She was still staring into the mug when Sam, bolstered by copious quantities of liquid courage, plopped into the seat across from her.

"Hi."

"Yeah...whatever."

"So, did you have a good time at that bar?" He was staring, really staring, and it was starting to get to her.

"Yeah. Why're you lookin' at me?" *Shit...blushing. Why am I blushing? Stop it NOW, Sarah!*

"Because..." Sam stood and leaned across the table, bracing himself with one hand, "Ah like you."

Sarah planted a hand on his chest and pushed, then made a face. "You're drunk. And you smell." *and you don't really like me. You're drunk...he's drunk, Sarah, don't listen to him.* She looked up to see a concerned frown on Sam's face. "What?"

"Do ah really smell?"

"Yeah. You stink like cheap booze. What kinda trashy place did you idiots go to?" She slid out of her chair, intent on going to the bathroom...in fact, intent on going anywhere Sam wasn't. "You know what? Forget it. I don't want to know." She whirled and stalked towards the back of the restaurant.

Samuel Guthrie had not gotten through life by giving up on ideas and plans that didn't work on the first try. And somewhere in his drink-sodden brain, the impulse to follow Sarah, to make her listen if necessary, was jumping about- throwing punches in the air and generally drawing masses of attention to itself. It was, at the moment, the foremost thought in his mind.

It was also not really a very good thought. Unfortunately, Sam's feet were not authorized to override his brain, so they propelled him down the row of tables after Sarah. He caught one wrist and stopped her, then caught the other as she raised it to scratch at his hand. Grinning, he pulled her closer to him, then leaned down to rest his forehead on hers. "Ah really do like you, Sarah. A lot." He chanced letting one of her hands go, and when she didn't immediately begin clawing at him, he took it as a cue to tip her chin up and plant a kiss- passionate, yet surprisingly gentle considering his present state of inebriation- on her lips. Taking advantage of her momentary loss of coherent thought, he kissed her again, this time with a significantly lower level of gentleness. Needless to say, Sarah recovered quickly under such an ungraceful assault. She slid a hand up his back to the base of his neck, pulled the fine hairs there, and punched him in the jaw when he lifted his head.

"Try again when you're sober and don't taste like bad beer, cornpone." She stalked back to her table and finished her coffee, glaring daggers at the bottom of the empty mug. Sam stood in the aisle and watched her, puzzled.

"What'd Ah do wrong?"

Meanwhile, across the restaurant, Susana and Jono were play-scuffling in the men's original booth. *Stop that, will you, gel?* He captured her wrists in one hand and poked a finger at her nose. *It's not nice to drool over other men 2 nights before yer wedding. Besides, you were at a strip club, too. So no tryin' t'put my eyes out.*

"I will drool over absolutely anyone I want, whenever I want. 'sides, it's not like I won't be drooling on you later anyway."

*Oh really?*

"Shut it, you perv. I meant in my sleep. No action for you tonight." She stuck her tongue out at him, then seemed to find it suddenly very fascinating.

*'Sana? You ok?*

*'m fine, ok? Tongue looks weird." Her eyes crossed, and she paled before burying her face in the front of Jono's shirt. "mmph mm mnph"

*What was that?*

"I think I'm gonna puke. Lemme go." She struggled against his arms, then grabbed his shoulder when he stood up and carried her outside. Once they were outside, Sarah watched from her seat in front of the window as Susana puked, rather spectacularly in fact, into the bushes. Jono smoothed her hair back and was thankful that his secondary buzz had worn off shortly after they arrived at the Denny's.

*Better now?*

"Nooo..." she wailed, then scrunched up her nose. "Well...yeah, I think so. Can we go back inside now?"