Title: This Acid Trip Called Life
Pairing: Lance/Scott, Scott/Lance
Part: 2/?
Author: Naisumi
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lance, Scott, the X-geeks, and the Brotherhood aren't mine. Drat. Mac, Bryan, and Sadie, however, ARE mine. ^__^;
Archive: If you want, but could you tell me at least?
Warnings: Language
Notes: SLASH, um...post-high school ^^ Scott's in college, soooo yeah. This also means that he gets to have a bunch of effed up friends that will be OCs, but don't worry, they're not, like, main characters or anything. At least, they're not supposed to be. Nor are they Mary Sues or Gary Stus *shudders*
I'm giving Morwen credit for coming up with the nickname 'Scooterboy' ^-^ Kudos to you! Also, this features NON-BITCHIFIED Jean! *gasp!*
**Oh yeah, special thanks to Morwen for info on NY. LOVE YA BUNCHES! *glomps* n.n
Additional Notes: NOT BETAD! ^^ Word was also giving me problems with spacing at points... And, go read Simple Tensions and REVIIIIEW! Please??
Enjoy, and please give me C&C!!!
"blah." People speak
-- uh...scene switch
--
"I hate my life," Scott moaned, burying his head in his arms.
"I hate your life, too," Mac said miserably. "I have Physics homework with you."
The bespectacled boy spared him a long withering look, which was apparent even with his shades on. "That wasn't my fault, you know."
"No, it was the teacher's." A contemplative look, "What was his name again?"
Scott glared him and opened his mouth to respond, then paused. He blinked. "...I...don't know."
Sadie sputtered from beside Mac and started to giggle, "I think my soda just came out my nose..."
"Pop!" Bryan grinned from where he and Lance had just come in.
"Where've you two been?" Sadie demanded, wadding up the napkin she had been using and tossing it at the trashcan. She missed and hit the plastic tree behind it instead.
"Ford was just showin' me around campus," Lance said, looking a little too innocent in Scott's opinion.
"Oh, really," the chestnut-haired post-teen said wryly, "How come I seriously doubt that?"
"Because you're anal and paranoid?" Bryan suggested scooting in beside Sadie and Mac and therefore forcing Lance to sit beside Scott.
"Me being anal has nothing to do with me being right," Scott said before adding with a frown, "And I'm not anal."
Lance snickered.
"Scotty's right, though," Sadie looked amused. She leaned forward with curiosity, "Where were you guys really?"
"Ford got something pierced," Lance said rather placidly.
Mac's eyebrows shot up under his shaggy bangs, "He got his what pierced?"
"Look!" Bryan beamed and jerked up his shirt.
"Ahh," Scott wrinkled his nose and hid his face, "I don't want to see!"
"Ow," Sadie leaned in for a closer look, "A nipplering? That looks...painful."
"Wait a second," Scott lifted his head again and eyed Lance suspiciously, "What kind of guy stands by and watches another guy get something pierced?"
Sadie chortled.
"Friends don't let friends get pierced alone," Lance grinned.
"Oh God," the chestnut-haired boy's face was pillowed on his crossed arms once more.
"Too kinky for you, Scoot?" Sadie inquired with a teasing smile on her painted cobalt blue lips.
"I'd rather my friends didn't run around getting holes stuck in them, thank you very much." Scott retorted.
"Getting holes stuck in you is lots of fun," Bryan grinned from where he was stealing fries from Mac.
"Yeah, right," Scott turned to exchange an amused look with Lance only to stop when he saw that the dark-haired boy was staring at him with an odd expression on his face.
"What?"
"Nothing," Lance looked away, the same quirky smile on his lips and unidentifiable look on his face.
"What?" Scott insisted, beginning to feel rather silly.
"It's just that y...nothing," Lance repeated and began to say something to change the subject when he caught sight of Bryan.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked, staring at the other boy.
"I am...drawing with ketchup." Bryan beamed at his red creation.
"On the tabletop," Sadie said flatly.
Mac coughed, "Well, then, I think we'd better book it before the cops find us again."
"Again?" Lance asked.
"Yep," Sadie grinned, "Once we all got thrown in the slammer for 'disturbing the peace.' Scott got sooo mad."
"I'm still angry about that," the chestnut-haired boy glared at her.
Lance arched an eyebrow, "You don't get thrown in jail for 'disturbing the peace.'"
"You do if it's a repeated offense," Mac said wisely as he pulled Bryan away from putting the finishing touches on his tomatoey masterpiece.
As they exited the café, the cool evening air assaulted them full on, alerting them that November was indeed upon them. Bryan began to somersault his way along the sidewalk, irritating many pedestrians in the process.
"You know what we should do?" he asked while upside down, "We should go clubbing!"
"Clubbing?" Lance repeated flatly.
"Otherwise known as annoying the hell out of the general populace," Mac said helpfully.
"Clubbing?" Scott echoed for entirely different purposes since his voice was colored with horror, "We can't go clubbing!"
"C'mon, Scooterboy," Sadie grinned, "Y'gotta live a little!"
"Did you know," Bryan said with a disturbingly serious expression on his face, "that 'live' is 'evil' spelled backwards?"
He giggled.
"That didn't really help my argument much," the dark-haired girl replied dryly.
"Are you perpetually high or something?" Lance inquired, staring at Bryan with a sort of morbid fascination.
"Nope. I'm all here, baby," the shorter post-teen replied with a drunken grin.
"You were never here to begin with," Mac drawled, flicking a finger at the wheat-streaked chocolate-haired boy's temple.
"All three of you were never here to begin with," Scott muttered. Lance grinned and pressed a hand to his chest in a mock-melodramatic gesture,
"So you're leaving me out of the insane category? I feel touched, Summers!"
"Right out of the insane category and straight into the legally psychotic," Scott retorted, feeling irritated by being called 'Summers' for some reason.
"Ouch," the other mutant said in response, a lazy grin on his lips, "watch what you say, Shades--I'm easily wounded."
"And easily pierced, too," Bryan commented brightly, "On the right side anyway."
"What, you want me to do the left one, too?" Lance returned.
"Hey, hey, before we go off talkin' about freaks and body art, show us yours, too, Alvers!" Sadie grinned, darting in front of him and walking backwards, her hightops clunking against the sidewalk with each deliberate step.
Scott looked alarmed and shot the mahogany-haired boy a startled glance just in time to see Lance stiffen slightly at the term 'freaks,' then relax, grinning in the off-center reckless way he often did.
"Don't sound anymore enthusiastic or you'll be drowning in your own drool," Mac remarked, ducking as Sadie tried to thwap him on the head. After several more fruitless attempts, she gave up and just hopped on his back for an impromptu piggyback ride.
"C'mon!" Sadie urged, with a wide smile and feral gleam in her eyes, "I wanna see!"
"'She wants to see,'" Bryan mimicked with a cackle, "Well, I've seen it all!" He made a great show of licking his lips and looking Lance up and down. The dark-haired boy in question rolled his eyes,
"Aw, shut up Ford. You ain't seen nothin'."
"But I bet he wants to," Sadie protested, willing to sacrifice the reputation of all who were nearby to get what she wanted. "And so does Scott--right, Scott?"
The bespectacled mutant missed a step, flushing hotly, "W-what?!"
Lance had turned toward him, cocking an eyebrow. He grinned and slurred in an extremely godawaful rendition of a British accent, "Is that true, Summer? That you fancy me?"
"Fancy," Bryan repeated with a grin, "is such a pansy-ish word."
"He fancies you, I'm sure," Mac said jokingly before Scott could reply, "he probably just thinks about you on those long cold December nights when the pimp hand's workin' away..."
"Mac!" Scott glared hard at the blond boy, still blushing hard. I've got to get new friends, he thought fiercely; Especially ones that don't joke about things that...that...tha...
His train of thought abruptly squealed to a halt, wherein all the boxcars ran into the engine and the caboose exploded, thoroughly demolishing the tracks. Lance was lifting the hemline of his shirt, his eyes rolled upward in mock-surrender.
"Oh, well," a long-suffering sigh, "if I must."
A little further up went the shirt. A little lower went the nerve impulses in Scott's body in general.
Suddenly, out of the blue, a car began honking at them. Scott blinked, and jolted out of the haze of hormone-induced lightheadedness he had been in, and turned to stare at the trendy lemon-yellow convertible that had pulled up beside the sidewalk.
"Scott?"
He blinked, waiting for his liquefied brain to regain form.
"Jean?"
"Lance?" the redhead exclaimed instead as her attention was caught by the familiar figure beside Scott, voice pitched high in alarm. The chocolate-haired mutant scowled, mimicking in a falsetto voice,
"'Lance?'"
"Jean, what are you doing here?" Scott stared at her, wide-eyed.
"Who's the chick?" Sadie asked, sliding off of Mac and bouncing over, one hip jutted out as she shifted her weight and crossed her arms over the front of her blindingly white tennis shirt that read 'BRAT' on it with large navy blue letters.
"Uh, this is Jean Grey--Jean," Scott turned to address the copper-haired girl again mid-sentence, "I thought you were coming up in...uh..."
"About two weeks?" Jean grinned cheekily, "Yeah, I just thought I might come up and keep you company until midterms." She tucked one long strand of errant hair behind her ear and folded her slender hands primly over the flat of the wheel.
"Hop on in," she gave Lance a wary look but didn't comment further, "I'll give you guys a ride."
The usual introductions were passed around--except for Bryan, who practically everyone at the Institution knew anyway and built many bombshelters because of--and after Scott gave her the address of his apartment, they were all comfortably seated--all except for Mac, who was sitting glumly, half on the trunk and half in the actual car itself.
"Mac, your ass is hanging out," Bryan observed helpfully.
"Is not." The blond returned.
"I think he means that it's hanging out of the car," Lance clarified.
"And what a nice ass it is," Sadie grinned evilly and goosed him.
"Ack!" Mac wiggled a little, pouting. "Why can't we take my car?"
"First of all," Scott said dryly from the front seat, "your 'car' probably isn't even a car. Second, it's probably hazardous, a time bomb, plastic, or all three. And third, it probably can't even fit four people in it."
There was sulky silence, in which Jean attempted to find a radio station that could be blared and thus properly drown out any possible conversation, then they heard from the back of the car,
"...it can, too, fit four people in it." A beat. "If no one breathes and everyone squeezes in nice and snug..."
"SO, Lance," Jean interrupted with a nice, bright Colgate smile before Mac could continue. "How did you and Scott run into each other?"
Lance eyed her suspiciously. After a moment, he concluded that if hanging around Sadie, Bryan, and Mac could make Summers want to be nice to him, then it probably had the same effect on Grey.
"We ran into each other." He said succinctly.
"Literally," Scott hurried to add so that it didn't sound like Lance was being disrespectful.
"Literally?" Jean repeated, aristocratic eyebrows shooting up toward her hairline.
"No, you didn't," Sadie said puzzled, "You guys were making small talk in front of the library."
"No, no, that was the second time," Lance explained. "The first time, Summers ended on his ass."
"Yes," Mac said sagely, "Scott ends up on his ass in many situations."
"I'm not dignifying that with an answer," Scott grumbled.
"So, you two actually met before? I mean, not before before, but, like...before 'library' before?" Sadie demanded.
"Well...yes," Scott replied reluctantly.
"Why didn't you tell me?!" Sadie kicked the back of the seat and accidentally got Lance's knee, too.
"Ow!" the sienna-eyed mutant glared at her, "Watch where you're aimin', lady!"
Sadie rolled her eyes and subsided into a sulky silence that was similar to Mac's. After a few more minutes of quiet--quiet except for Bryan mumbling to himself, anyway, but no one was really listening to him--Jean asked pleasantly,
"How goes studying for midterms?"
Scott groaned in response while Mac piped up quizzically from the back of the car,
"Studying? What mean you by 'studying?'"
"Scott keeps trying to force us to study," Sadie replied sagely.
"We're all going to fail at this rate," the chestnut-haired boy glared into the rearview mirror as a rebuttal, even though no one could see him anyway.
"Well, if you factor in all the time that we've studied beforehand," Lance said, ignoring Mac's 'Studied? We've studied? Who's "we?"', "and the time the information's had to sink into our brains, we should be alright. Unless you're taking French, that is," he amended with a wide grin.
Scott glared some more into the rearview mirror.
"That's not funny, Alvers," he griped, "I'm going to fail French." Scott paused, then transferred his Almighty Glare That Is Hidden By Shades That Are Red (AGTIHBSTAR for short) to Jean, who giggled.
"Aw, it can't be that bad," she said brightly. "It's just French."
"Scott's terrible at French," Sadie remarked flatteringly and earned a dark glower for her troubles.
"Yep. Absolutely horrible at learning languages," Lance was still smirking. Scott rather vindictively took back all his thoughts that maybe the other mutant wasn't too bad after all.
"Oh, I agree," Jean was still giggling, "he tried to make flashcards once, but he just didn't realize that his learning style is more--"
"--hands-on," Lance and Jean finished at the same time. They grinned.
Scott slumped down further in the white leather seat, silently reviewing all the nasty and anatomically impossible owwy-things that he had heard Logan say to the X-jet when it wouldn't work. He hoped that Jean would catch wind of it, but if she did, she was ignoring him.
This is going to be the longest car-ride ever, Scott thought glumly as he tried not to listen to Lance and Jean chatting as if they were best friends and Sadie and Bryan's not too helpful comments on the side.
"So, this is where you live..." Jean walked around the living room once, a rather appalled look on her face.
"Tragic, isn't it?" Mac had recovered from his automobile-deprived coma-like state.
"This is beyond tragic," Jean declared; "It's catastrophic!"
"If you think this is bad, you should try the sofa bed," Lance commented. Behind him, Scott groaned.
"Can we please save the critiquing for another time?" He glared at Bryan, who had situated himself comfortably on the couch and was watching TV.
"Some of us have homework."
"Don't remind me," Mac said glumly.
"So where're you stayin' at, Jean?" Sadie asked, drinking some of Scott's prized orange cream soda.
"The hotel on the corner of 31st," the redhead replied promptly, from where she was inspecting the bedroom.
"Fortunately, since we seem to have run out of room here." Bryan piped up.
"Don't you guys have your own apartments to go to?" Scott interceded, glancing around pleadingly.
"Yes, but yours is so much more fun," Mac answered peaceably.
"I have homework!" The chestnut-haired mutant protested.
"Who doesn't?" Sadie was rummaging through the cupboards, "But you don't see us being tightwads, d'ya? Jay-zus, you've got to go shopping, boy!"
"Have you guys settled on a color scheme yet?" Jean popped back into the room, a rather disturbed frown on her face, "Because the wallpaper in the bedroom's absolutely atrocious."
"A-troh-shush?" Mac pronounced quizzically, ducking as Lance scowled and swatted at him.
"What's wrong with the wallpaper?" Bryan asked defensively.
"It's zebra-print," Jean said, a horrified look on her face and an expression that loudly proclaimed the three-lettered word 'duh.'
"Yes," Scott mumbled unhappily. "I settled down to study math and he re-wallpapered the whole bedroom."
"I had leopard spots for the living room," the brown-haired boy said brightly, bouncing up and down on the couch, "but Scott wouldn't let me."
"Thank God," Jean muttered in response and wandered into the kitchen.
"Thank God indeed," Lance said glowering at Bryan, "Leopard spots? I have to sleep in here! Leopard spots would've been rather..."
"Queer?" Sadie supplied, munching on cornflakes.
"I was going to say 'like a bad porno movie,' but 'queer' works, too." Lance replied wryly.
"But I like leopard spots!" Bryan protested.
"You, and you alone," Mac grinned and ruffled his hair before settling back in the armchair he had claimed again. Several minutes passed.
"What do we do now?" Bryan glared around randomly, "I'm bo-ored!"
Scott, who had resigned himself to a remote corner of the apartment and was furiously doing his homework, glared at him.
"Studying is nice, you know."
"No, it's not," Sadie rebutted, "It's dull and evil and educational and thought-provoking and...and...and..." She ran out of adjectives and looked at Mac for assistance.
"Responsibible," the blond drawled briefly before tugging the brim of his baseball cap down.
"Where did Red go?" Lance asked before Scott could launch into full-out rant mode.
"Who, Jean?" Scott blinked, then peered around, "I...don't know."
"Aw, man, did we scare her away?" Bryan inquired cheerfully, not sounding repentant at all, "Oops."
Sadie commented brightly from the couch, "She seemed like a nice girl."
"Yep," Mac sounded sleepy, "Real proper."
"Maybe she jumped out the window," Bryan suggested, craning his neck and squinting into the bedroom.
"I doubt that that happened," Lance replied dryly.
"Well, you never know," Sadie grinned, "We can turn the sanest person kooky."
"You're telling me," Scott muttered, scribbling fiercely in his notebook.
Abruptly, there was a thump outside the door and Lance blinked, walking over and opening it cautiously. He let out a surprised grunt as a large cardboard box was shoved into his arms.
"Oof! What the--?"
"Hey," Jean smiled sweetly, eyeing him calculatingly, "you wouldn't mind putting that over by the bedroom, would you?"
Lance grumbled to himself but complied, shooting her a dirty look.
"What are you doing?" Scott exclaimed, eyes wide.
"Temporary storage," Jean batted her eyelashes, "for when we can redecorate your apartment."
"Hold on a freakin' second," Bryan interrupted, alarmed, "What do you mean 'redecorate?!'"
"She means 'redecorate' in the sense of 'aestheticism,'" Sadie remarked dryly.
"And what's that supposed to mean?!" the vertically-challenged boy practically bristled.
"It means that the Budweiser sign in the kitchen doesn't match the carpeting," Jean replied with deceptive mildness, one eyebrow arched.
"Budweiser?" Scott looked bewildered, "We have a Budweiser pin-up in the kitchen?! Since when!?"
"Lookin' sharp there, Summers," Lance commented sarcastically.
"Oh, shut up," Scott was now glowering into the kitchen.
"It's not his fault that Bryan can sneak things in without anyone noticing at all," Sadie chortled,
"Bryan's pretty short. Right below the line of sight, y'know, and part molerat to top it all of, too."
"Hey!" Bryan pouted, "I am not."
"Whatever he's a part of," Jean said, amusement glinting in emerald eyes, "fashion sense doesn't seem to be instinctual."
"Beavers," was Mac's two cents.
"I'm gonna go to the bedroom now," Bryan glared randomly around the room, "'cause at least my stereo understands me."
"Right," Sadie tittered to herself.
Lance rolled his eyes and went to close the apartment door when something catapulted by and landed on the couch. It screeched, then collapsed slightly. Sadie squeaked, and reflexively curled up much like a hedgehog while Jean and Mac stared.
"...Todd?" Lance blinked.
The figured coughed and straightened.
"Er, sorry 'bout that, yo." Todd grinned sheepishly, "I miscalculated."
Scott, whom had returned from the kitchen at the noise, gawked at him.
"Where'd you come from?"
"Thanks," Todd replied dryly, "I love you, too."
"Who's that?" Bryan asked, sticking out his head from the bedroom.
"Todd Tolensky," Lance had recovered and was grinning now, "Hey, man, how'd you get up here?"
"I hitched a ride," the younger boy snatched the remote controller from Sadie's hand and began to surf channels on the TV.
"Your trunk's real cluttered," he informed Jean absently.
"You were in my trunk?!" Jean's voice rose an octave, her expression incredulous.
"Okay," Scott intervened, eyeing Todd with trepidation.
"I've got to talk to you guys for a sec--in the kitchen--no crazy wannabe-ravers," he headed into the kitchen, ignoring Bryan's groan of mock-disappointment.
"No powers," Lance said in a low voice as soon as Jean, Scott, Todd, and him were in the kitchen.
"Definitely," Jean agreed, shooting a worried glance toward the living room.
"What, you mean those guys out there don't know that we're--y'know?" Todd looked exasperated. "Aw, man, that bites!"
"You just have to be careful," Scott said in response.
"Hey, Todd," Lance said abruptly, his eyes narrowed, "What about school?"
The amphibianish mutant cracked a grin, "Good ol' BHS blew a gasket, yo."
"Yes," Jean looked rather amused, though also slightly concerned, "Evan accidentally lost a spike in the boiler room, but luckily no one saw him."
"A spike? Is that, like, a drug or somethin'?" All four of them jolted almost guiltily. Mac smiled amiably from the partition between the kitchen and living room, a sort of easy-goingness about him that suggested he was high on something at the moment.
"Yeah," Lance grinned almost immediately in response, "our friend's a total whackjob."
"Beer, speed, crack, X," Todd got into the act, slouching automatically and affecting a casual pose, "He even snorts Ritalin."
"Pretty messed up," Mac agreed, eyeing Jean and Todd furtively, "You two don't do that shit, d'ya?"
"Aw, hell, no," Todd replied easily for the both of them, repeating with incredulity, "hell, no. Bayville's got 'nuff deadbeats that we don't gotta contribute, yo."
"Right, Jean?" Scott asked, elbowing her inconspicuously.
"O-of course," Jean stuttered, staring at Todd wide-eyed.
"That's good," Mac smiled peaceably, "We're weird enough already without foreign substances to warp our minds."
"You think?" Lance joked back, grabbing Todd by the elbow and leading him back toward the living room, "C'mon, I'll introduce you to everyone."
Mac winked at Jean, then followed suite, his hands shoved into the pockets of his low-riding khakis.
"Lying just like that," Jean looked over at Scott, "I can't believe he can just lie like that without thinking about it!"
"Who, Lance?" Scott blinked.
"Oh, please," the redhead rolled her eyes and grinned slyly, "Is that all you ever think about? Of course I'm don't mean Lance Alvers. I bet he could lie without even knowing it."
"I bet," Scott echoed, feeling somehow guilty for saying it.
"It's so sad," Jean continued; "Todd's so young...it's such a waste."
That caught his attention.
"You don't really think that, do you?"
"Maybe," a one-shouldered shrug, "doesn't matter much anyway, does it?"
She stooped and peered into his refrigerator before wrinkling her nose and making a face.
"You really do need to go shopping for some new things." (A/N: Duuuude! Symbolism snuck in when I wasn't looking! O.o)
"Quick, open the door!" Bryan yelped, bouncing from foot to foot.
"What the hell did you do?" Scott muttered, fumbling with his keys. Finally, he got the right key, unlocked the door, and ushered the hyperactively hyperventilating brunette into the apartment.
"I didn't do anything," Bryan protested, slamming the door shut and nearly squashing Scott in the process.
"Now, why is it that I don't believe that?" Scott glared at his roommate, who was peering through the peephole.
"Because...you're paranoid?" was his response, which made him glower some more before he headed to the kitchen to find something to eat. Abruptly, there was some loud knocking and a loud, "Police! Open up!"
Bryan squeaked and dived behind the couch. His bespectacled friend rolled his eyes and glanced through the peephole and quirking an eyebrow at the sight of Sadie, whose arm was slung around a rather uncomfortable-looking Jean.
"Hey," he said as he opened the door.
"Hi!" Sadie beamed back and Jean mumbled something indistinctive as the two of them entered the apartment. With yet another uncomfortable shrug, the redhead escaped to the kitchen.
Scott blinked.
"What did you do to her?"
"Eh," Sadie shrugged, looking around curiously.
"What'd you do to Shorty?"
"He's hiding behind the couch," Scott gestured toward the furniture in question and sat down in an armchair, pulling out a textbook from his backpack.
"Ma~ac?" came a rather pitiful whine from the back of the sofa.
Sadie rolled her eyes, "Mac ain't here. Now get your scrawny ass out here, Ford."
There was a moment--in which it could be assumed that he was pouting--before Bryan slinked out from behind the couch.
"Now, what the hell you hidin' for?" Sadie asked good-naturedly.
"The police are out to get me," Bryan burrowed into the cushions of the sofa.
Sadie rolled her eyes again, "Dude, Bryan, of course they're out to get you. Look at your track record! It's nothing new, really."
"But they're really after me!" Bryan insisted only to be dismissed by the dark-haired girl, who waved her hand,
"You're just paranoid."
"It's not paranoia," Scott commented, "when they really are out to get you."
"Exactly," Bryan beamed.
Sadie rolled her eyes yet again. "Look, if the police are 'after you,' at least why are they? There's got to be a reason."
"Well..." Suddenly Bryan found the floor extremely interesting.
Oh no. Scott stared at him.
"What'd you do?!" he demanded.
"Nothin' much," Bryan toyed with the black fishnet shirt that he had over his neon green tanktop.
"I just kinda...--"
"Glued quarters to the freakin' floor of the local mall!" Scott and Sadie glanced toward the door, where Mac was standing, the bespectacled blond looking bother perplexed and amused.
"That's...not a good thing," Scott noted, his organized, well-structured brain attempting to digest that tidbit of randomness. From his new perch on top of the sofa, Bryan giggled;
"Wicked funny, though."
"I'll bet," Sadie eyed Mac, "Sayyy...where'd Alverce and Tolensky go? I thought they were with you."
"Alvers," Scott corrected automatically, earning a strange look for his trouble.
"THey were," Mac nodded slightly in greeting to Jean as the redhead finally came out of the kitchen. "But I think I scared them away. Well, Lance went to the libuh-ra-ry. Lil' Toddie ran for the hills, though."
"You drove them off?" Bryan squeaked. "How could you!? That's really...bad!"
"Yep," Mac looked sleepy, "it sure is, dude."
"Dude," Sadie tittered.
"Dude?" Mac eyed her oddly.
"Du-ude..." Bryan beamed.
"Dude!"
"Duuude."
"DUDE."
"DuUuUuUuUde..."
Scott coughed, "I'm going to leave now."
Jean mumbled something about the kitchen before retreating to it once more.
"Summers," Lance seemed surprised, "What're you doin' here?"
"I'm hiding from Bryan," Scott muttered, sitting down across from the other mutant, "who's hiding from the police."
In response, Lance quirked an eyebrow and swept aside some of the papers that swathed the tabletop.
"The cops? What'd he do this time?"
"You catch on fast," Scott smiled wanly, "He, uh...glued quarters to the floor."
"Of the mall?" Lance grinned, "Pietro and I did that once."
Scott goggled at him.
"You what?!"
"We were bored," Lance shrugged, penciling in the circles of his 'd's.
"God, I hate Biology," he grumbled.
"Biology?" Scott arched an eyebrow, "Why're you taking Biology?"
"We didn't have it at my old high school and I figured that Bayville'd let me slide with Chem, but obviously the university's more anal about this stuff," the dark-haired boy replied wryly.
"Well..." Scott blinked, "didn't...? Uh, that is, Kitty said that you really liked Chemistry."
"I do," Lance eyed what seemed to be his Biology textbook, "I just hate Biology."
"Okay," Scot blinked again, though no one could tell in any case.
"Um..."
There was a funny feeling in his lower stomach, similar to indigestion yet not. In fact, it was almost like he was--
"Do you have your French stuff?"
Scott jerked back, marginally startled as Lance hurled his pen at his Biology book, scowling fiercely.
"Gave up?" Scott asked weakly.
"Yeah. Actually, let's go steal Mac's wheels instead."
Lance grinned and shoved his books and assorted binders into his slummy book bag.
"Mac's wheels..." Scott repeated, "What exactly is it this time?"
"You'll see..."
"What the hell is that?!" Scott stared incredulously at the automobile in question.
"A golf cart," Lance grinned.
"A souped up golf cart. Honestly, I didn't think it was possible..."
"Where did he get a...nevermind," Scott groaned at the crest on the side of the door that said 'Manhattan Country Club' in large letters. The dark-haired boy cocked his head,
"He really should paint over that..."
"He really should get help," Scott growled.
"Mac's practically a klepto!"
"Not practically," Lance noted as he opened the impromptu cluttered trunk and several items with the tags still on them fell out.
"But why does he have chick stuff?"
"What?" Scott blinked, and caught the small neon blue plastic purse with nail polish inside that Lance tossed him. He stared at it.
"What the...?"
"Maybe Falkon's his partner in crime," Lance grinned, to which the bespectacled mutant muttered,
"I wouldn't be surprised."
"What say you we take it for a joyride, Summers?"
Lance grinned and jangled the keys, swinging them back and forth. In return, Scott gaped at him;
"What, are you insane? In that?! We'd get killed!"
"And also attract the attention of every highway trooper in existence," Lance rolled his eyes, "C'mon! Ya gotta live a little, Summers!"
"Which," Scott eyed him reproachfully, "Is exactly why I'll have to decline. Dying in a giant gaseous ball of flame that once was a tortured golfcart is not my way of 'living a little,' thank you very much."
"Aww, don't be a killjoy," the dark-haired boy protested, drumming a rhythm on the canvas top of the seats.
"What could one little drive do?"
"Possibly scar us both for life," Scott muttered nudging his shades up slightly with one knuckle.
"Stop being so melodramatic," was his answer, "What're we supposed to do, sit here and pretend we're driving?"
"That'd be a lot less hazardous, wouldn't it?"
"That's boring! Don't you think so?"
"I think you've spent too much time with Maximoff."
"Whatever," Lance scoffed and quirked an eyebrow at Scott, who was seated with a resolute scowl in the passenger seat.
"Jeez, Summers, just when I was beginning to think you were fun, too."
"No, I'm not going to do it."
"Why not? It'll totally rock!"
"Look at it, Lance! It...it..."
"Different shapes and sizes, Summers. Different shapes and sizes."
"Shut up! I don't feel safe doing this!"
"We'll use safety precautions! Look--this'll keep you safe."
"It won't fit--it's stuck."
"What do you mean it's st--jeez!"
"Yeah, it's in there pretty tightly."
"Summ--"
"What," Sadie skidded into the garage, wide-eyed, "the fuck are you two doing!??!"
Scott blinked.
"Sadie?"
"What are you doing here?" Lance eyed her oddly and dodged her clumsy swipe of a hand. She scowled.
"Do you have any idea what it sounds like you're doing from out there?!"
Lance's jaw fell open and he jerked away from where he was trying to tug Scott's seatbelt loose.
"Gah--Falkon, get the hell out of the gutter!"
Scott just stared. The hyperspazzy girl rolled her eyes.
"What, like you've never thought about screwing S--"
"No," Lance interrupted firmly, "I haven't. Now get in."
"What for?" Sadie paused, already halfway in the trunk.
In response, the dark-haired boy grinned and floored the gas pedal.
"Alvers, I'm going to KILL you!!"
Lance rolled his eyes and popped open the top of the last can of orange soda. Before he could take a sip, Scott snatched it away and glared balefully.
"Aw, c'mon," Lance grinned as innocuously as possible, "It wasn't that bad."
"I nearly fell out!"
"Hey, that was your own fault," Lance arched an eyebrow, "I told you not to try to get out of the golfsmobile when we stopped at that red light."
"Oh, shut up," Scott scowled and buried his head in his French textbook.
"And...'golfsmobile?!'"
"I actually kinda like that," giggled Sadie from behind the TV. The pigtailed girl was practically on a high, adrenaline junkie that she was.
"We should get Mac to stick one o'those ice cream truck speakers so we can nananananananana..."
Scott goggled at her (or, her shoe, rather).
"...What!?"
"The old Batman theme," Lance looked disgruntled.
"Once, Pietro sang that for about two hours straight before he got bored and painted Daniels' skateboard maroon and hot orange."
Scott's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.
"So Maximoff was the one who did that?"
"Ye-ep," Lance grinned broadly and chucked his wadded Biology notes behind the TV, which elicited a heartfelt 'Fuck you!' from Sadie when she got beaned on the head with it.
Scott rolled his eyes, though the effect was lost on everyone else there, and flipped to the review section in his textbook.
"Nngh." he groaned as he found that all coherent language-thoughts had once again fled his mind.
"Someone die out there, Scottie?" Sadie called while Lance hoisted himself over the top of Scott's armchair and peered at the swimming foreign text.
"Huh. Prepositions."
"Like that one song? 'Voulez-vou--" began Sadie but was cut off rather viciously by a sleep-deprived Scott,
"No! Why is that the only thing in French everyone knows?! Why does everyone keep saying 'would you sleep with me tonight!?' I don't want to sleep with you!"
"Aw, Summers," Lance grinned and draped an arm around Scott's neck,
"I never knew you cared."
Scott froze faster than a penguin's wet bottom to a glacial peak and Sadie began to giggle insanely from behind the TV set. Then, as Scott continued as an exemplary specimen of someone lost in a blank-minded daze, Lance began to explain the French homework again, unaware.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
...
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"Bryan, what the hell are you doing?"
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
... "Bryan." ...
Thunk. Thunk. THUNK.
"Bryan!!"
THUNK. Thunkthunkthunkthunk--
"Gah!!!"
"Ahh! Everyone, Bryan just jumped Scooterboy with a pogostick and is molesting him!"
"Don't call me that!--"
"He is!? He is!? Where?!! I wanna see!"
"Get off me, Bryan! I--"
"Aww, but, Scott! You're so comfy!"
"Bryan!"
"Dude, Ford, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"'Dude?' 'Dude,' Lance? I'm so disappointed in you, yo!"
"Aw, shut up, Todd."
"Someone get him off me!"
"Aw, but, Scott! I WUUUUUUUUUUV y--hey, Mac's in the beanbag chair! MA~AC!!"
"Wha...?--oof!!"
...
"Did he kill him, yo?"
...
"Hey, Summers, you okay?"
...
"...I think I've been traumatized."
...
*snicker*
"Shut up!"
"Schooooooool!" Sadie yelled at the top of her lungs,
"I haaaaate youuuuuuu!"
"That sounds oddly musical," Mac observed before lapsing back into a sleepy silence.
Sadie beamed at him, "I'm talented."
"In that special way," Scott muttered, his nose buried in the brim of his cup of coffee, as if trying to inhale the caffeine from the bitter brew, "like those Chihuahuas that can rap."
"I heard that!" Sadie declared and kicked him in the book bag.
"Ow--! Hey!!"
"At least," Bryan noted brightly, "she didn't beat you with her shoe."
Sadie sniffed imperiously and inspected her neon yellow flip-flops.
"They're rather handy," she cooed, "aren't they?"
"Whatever," Lance said, as he was want to do lately, and glanced at his watch.
"Where's Todd? And Red?"
"Uh, haven't heard from her," Scott nervously fiddled with the straps of his backpack.
"Well, did she take Todd with her?"
"Yeah," Bryan interjected, "I haven't seen Toddie around at all."
"Maybe little Toddikins," Sadie grinned deviously, "is out shaggin' ol' Red."
Both Lance and Scott blanched.
"Hell, no!" Lance growled at the same time Scott exclaimed, "Sadie, that's so incredibly wrong!"
"I was just sayin'," Sadie shrugged, flicking a few strands of electric blue hair out of her eyes.
"Wellp, there's my Anthropology class. Gotta run!"
She waved perkily then sprinted off toward a large brick building, Bryan in tow, whom was complaining rather loudly.
"Ma--ac, save me! She's going to touch me in strange places and force me to be quiet!"
Mac, who had been practically sleepwalking, bobbed his head in reply before rubbing at one eye and continuing to amble along with his hands in his pockets and his backpack straps twisted like twizzlers.
"That chick's insane," Lance commented glancing at his watch again.
"Yeah," Scott rolled his eyes, "she sure is."
"So're you headin' to French?"
The bespectacled mutant grimaced, "Don't remind me."
Lance grinned.
"You have to just try to think in French, Summers. 't'ain't that hard."
"But you're not taking French with the demon-spawn teacher from Hell," Scott protested. "You have no basis for saying it's 'not hard.'"
"Well, it can't be as hard as Latin," Lance scowled. "I said one word wrong and 'seize the day' became 'seize the penguins.'" (1)
"What?" Scott let out a somewhat incredulous laugh.
"Well, it all started when I got distracted by this Spanish song that was subliminally planted in my head by the Latino channel..."
Five minutes after Scott and Lance had left for the linguistics building, Mac jolted into consciousness, looking rather bewilderedly about from where he was sitting on a bench.
"...Bryan was abducted by penguins?"
"One more day! One mooooore day until Friiiiday!" Sadie bounced happily alongside Scott, who was trying to ignore her.
"I can't wait for the weekend!"
"We need to study in the weekend," Scott reminded her tersely before returning to rearranging his schedule to allow time for his recent homeworky additions.
Sadie scowled.
"Shut up, Scottie! We've got to show Red the town."
"Oh, no, really," Jean piped up nervously, grass green eyes wide, "please don't inconvenience yourself on my part."
"Like--no-o." Sadie rolled her eyes and beamed, "there's no 'inconvenience!' We'll go clubbing! And bar hop! I know a great place where you can drink until you wanna puke your guts ou--"
"We're not legal, 'member?" Mac reminded lazily,
"And our fake IDs are...lost."
"You mean you 'accidentally'--" pointed look, "--blew 'em up along with your go-cart, right?"
"A mere technicality."
"You use fake IDs?!" Jean sounded positively scandalized.
"Hey, we're happy, the clubs're happy an' no one's the wiser," Bryan smiled broadly, "'Tis a wonderful life."
"Yo, shrimp," Bryan let out a yelp as Lance came up behind him and shoved his sideways baseball cap down over his eyes.
"Alverce," Sadie brightened, "Where've you two been?"
"Makin' a collect call 's all, yo," Todd replied for him, looking fidgety.
"To who?" Bryan asked after readjusting his headgear and shooting a dirty look at Lance.
"Name's Pietro Maximoff, an' our good ol' buddy Freddy. But Fred wasn't there," Todd added thoughtfully, "wonder if he actually went out and got a life."
"You'd like Pietro," Lance commented to Sadie, who immediately grinned in a decidedly not-healthy fashion.
"Yeah? Is he hot?"
"I wouldn't know," Lance replied wryly. "He's kind of...eccentric, though."
"'Kind of?'" Todd repeated icredulously.
"What, is he a total basketcase and fruity to boot?" Mac arched an eyebrow.
"He is the King of Fruitdom," Lance grinned quirkily, "whose distant cousins include papaya, pineapple, and something Purple."
"What?" Scott, having only just returned to the conversation, looked alarmed.
"Nothing," Sadie tittered, "just talkin' 'bout how sexy you are, Scoot."
"I think the Professor might need me back at the Institute," Jean glanced about furtively and rather abruptly, an uneasy expression on her face.
"I've always found it funny," Mac said amusedly, "that Scott lives at an 'Institute.'"
"It's not that kind of Institute," Scott glared.
"But it brings to mind thoughts of straightjackets and white padded walls," Bryan contributed.
"You would know, wouldn't you," Lance looked rather snarky.
"Yep, he would," Sadie snatched Bryan's hat and plopped it on backwards.
"I'm going to leave now," Jean was carefully sidling away.
Scott blinked. "Wait, Jean!"
The redhead stumbled slightly and looked around, wild-eyed, as if afraid that Sadie or some other local psychopath might jump her.
"Um, I'll see you later."
Meet me at my hotel room in thirty minutes. I need to talk to you about something.
Mac watched Jean leave, an odd little self-satisfied grin on his face. Beside him, Bryan summed it up rather cheerfully and succinctly,
"Oops."
"What'd you want to talk about?" Scott nervously fiddled with his shades, pushing them tight against his face for a moment before letting them go.
"It's not much," Jean checked the bathroom, gathering her toiletries, and wandered back into the living room.
"Just wanted to say that...um...well, your friends..."
"Disturb you?" Scott finished for her with a wan smile.
"Yeah," she tucked the travel bag into her suitcase, "you could say that."
Jean zipped up the suitcase then stood, letting out a small sigh of conclusion.
"I'll see you in a week," a bright smile; typical Jean, "and uh...be careful."
"Careful?" Scott repeated, quirking an eyebrow as he helped her lift her bags.
"Yeah...Um, I mean...Lance Alvers?"
Scott felt cold and uneasy, the first thought springing into mind being 'Studying?' as was his now-accustomed knee-jerk reaction.
"What about Lance?"
"Well...doesn't he seem a bit odd to you?"
"Odd," Scott managed to grin crookedly, feeling infinitely awkward with the conversation, "odder than Sadie, Bryan, and Mac?"
"Well, no," Jean was still smiling but it looked a little strained.
"But, he just seems...strange around you."
"Strange," Scott echoed, fully displaying just how much studying had fried his brainplate. "How do you mean?"
"It's just..." she paused, trying to gather her ponderings.
"It's just, his thoughts are kind of...all over the place."
"You read his mind?" Scott looked incredulous.
"No, no," Jean hastened to assure him, "I didn't. It's just, I got this...feeling from him--like, you know how I can kind of...sense the overall emotion behind thoughts mostly, right?"
"Well...yes," he replied after rummaging through his memory for a moment.
"Well, he, like...gives off this huge aura," Jean made a motion with her hands, as if trying to show someone what shape an orange was.
"And I'm not really sure what it is--just a...whole lot of...well, emotion."
Scott tried to digest this for a few minutes, but the only thing that was running through his mind was, 'Carpe Aptenodytes! Tu es un manchot? Je ne suis pas un manchot...' (2)
"Jean, you're not making a whole lot of sense."
The copper-haired girl sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward, smiling brightly once again, "Ah, forget it."
She patted him on the arm and took her suitcase from him.
"Don't worry, it's probably nothing. Maybe my powers are spazzing again."
"You going to be okay?" Scott asked, a crease of worry furrowing his brow.
"Yeah, I'll be fine." Jean paused at the doorway, her totebag slung over one shoulder and her suitcase in her other hand.
"Just be careful with Lance, okay? I don't know what he's up to and I don't know why he's the way he is around you, and frankly--" She shifted her luggage, "Frankly, it rather frightens me."
Scott stared after her, almost frozen to the floor of the hotel room, and tried to comprehend just what she was trying to talk about. But for some reason, the only thing that came to mind, was penguins.
~tbc~
(1)"Carpe Diem" is "Seize the Day" and "Carpe Aptenodytes" is "Seize the Penguins."
(2)"Seize the penguins! (as noted in 1) You are a penguin? I am not a penguin..." First phrase is in Latin, the last two is in French.