All X-men characters belong to Marvel comics… I am an innocent bystander to my muse and have no idea if this is supposed to be a feel good goofy story or if it's supposed to blossom a romance. This is a Storm/Cable fic and really has no action. I wrote this back in my sophomore year in high school (I'm a freshman in college) and it was in a notebook; I'm only just now going through my notebooks to write them out online. I've yet to get out a gambit/storm daughter from the future fic (cause everyone has a kid from the future forewarning danger!) and an else world starring Storm, Cable, and Gambit as elves, vampires, n' such in medieval times (written before I'd ever even heard of lord of the rings- would you believe I'm a geek only thought J.R.R. Tolkien had written the hobbit? Sheesh!). Well, anyway- here's your story please review. I need to know if I'm a sucky writer or not. OH!!! (slaps head in enlightenment). Missing You is John Waite's, and the song sung in the bar is by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band (I don't know the exact title). And the eagles song belongs to the eagles. I have no permission, and I don't intend to get any. No money is being made. Enough already and read!
-Bastet05@yahoo.com
Someone was playing that flonquing John Waite song. Every time I think of you, I always catch my breath… It wasn't that bad a song- except it was the fourth time in a row. Someone was obviously depressed but did they have to dump their misery on everyone else? Hell, that's probably the number one reason people came here I bemused of the town bar I had ended up in that night.
I ain't missing you at all… missing you… since you've been gone… away…"Bullshit." I mumbled while taking a shot of whiskey. The stuff was disgusting but it worked quick- a quality I praise in my teams and alcohol. Speed and efficiency. Yup.
Teams… my mind wanders to my father's death and I curse. "Another whiskey please."
"It's your 7th…"
"Now!" I snarl. Who does he think I am, a freakin' ballerina? I'm 6'8" and 350 lbs... not to mention the savior of the earth yadda yadda yadda… 18 whiskey shots wouldn't jeopardize my health if a royal beating from En Sabah Nur himself won't.
The man behind the counter complies and backs away. "Who the hell requested this song again?!" I thunder. No one answers, some glance at me, but most ignore.
I hear the door open because of the bell attached to it. It's the tread of a woman, though it's not too soft. There's a hand on my shoulder. It's gentle though it barely registers with my thoughts; they're finally fogging. The faint scent of sandalwood reaches my nose over the smoke and I grimace. She shouldn't be here. Not a place like this, she's too good for this dump. There's a reason I don't drink at the mansion.
"Mind if I join you?"
"S'free country, for the time being." Hey, she asked and I'm cranky.
She pulls out the stool next to me, and slumps in it, elbows on the bar. The bartender comes up. "What'll it be, Miss? Fuzzy navel? Screwdriver? Mudslide?"
"Three Tequila shots, please."
That registers. I turn to make sure it's who I think it is and I know my eyes are as big as flonquing dinner plates. In all my life, I never would've guessed Ororo a drinker beyond champagne and wine.
"I wouldn't be so shocked if I were you, Nathan. You think I've survived all ten years under Xavier's service with a smile plastered to my face?"
I nodded dumbly. My head felt like those bobble headed sports figures. "Bobble's a funny word." I grin.
She smirked and the bartender handed her the drink. "In minutes, I'll no doubt agree with you." She downed them one after the other and set the glasses on the table. I waited- 1, 2, 3, 4… her face puckered.
"Whoa! That stuff is disgusting! You keep thinking that you'll get used to it but I've been waiting 8 years and it still is as nasty as ever."
"Another, Ma'am?"
"No! Goddess, no!" Ororo shook her head and laughed. "Just beer from here on out tonight."
"Sir?" the bartender looked at me more reservedly, no
doubt waiting for me to rip off his head and shit down his neck.
"Um… beer, too, please."
She looks around the room as if with new eyes. "I've never seen so much teased blonde hair or mullets in my life."
I can't help but snicker at the comment- she's right. Though it's unlike Ororo to verbally appraise others. She tousles her hair with her fingers, fluffing it up. She uses static to keep it there with her weather powers. Smiling, she says, "So, does it work for me? You know, I feel sexy already…"
I smile and pull my comb out of my back pocket and toss it at her on the table.
"I can take a hint." Her beer arrives with mine. She ignores it and grooms her hair, undoing knots. The comb finally goes through it smoothly and she combs it slowly. I find myself wishing my fingers were the comb and inwardly curse, taking a couple swigs of beer. I feel the need to change the subject, to curb these drunken thoughts…
"So, why are you here Storm? Jean send you?"
A look of hurt crosses her face. "Believe it or not, she said to leave you alone when Rogue mentioned something about it. I decided to come anyway. Seriously, though, I was planning on making it out here sometime soon anyway."
The song was beginning again. I groaned and my head began to sag towards the bar. It fell a little too fast. THUNK! "FLONGQ!" I may have been too drunk to think clearly, but I was sober enough to feel my skull make contact with the wood.
She paid no notice but looked around the room.
"Who're you looking for?" I rubbed my forehead.
"Charlie."
"The Professor? He's in government custody!" I shouted louder than I had intended.
"Not the professor, and only Logan calls him that." A disappointed look fell across her face and she lifted her beer to her lips. She has a beautiful face.
"How many times has the song played?"
"Who knows? It's 16 since I've been here." My eyebrows raised and I was curious. "Old boyfriend?"
She laughed. "Not hardly! He's a logger- or was. Sad really. He was driving on the state route through Westchester when the chains on the logs he was hauling snapped. The logs barreled down the hill into wilderness and were forgotten. 2 days later when he was able to go home after detainment, one of them had gone through the roof of his house and impaled his wife."
"And I thought my luck was shitty."
"That's not all of it." She smirked again, almost cruelly. "She was in the middle of having sex with his best friend- so he bit it too! I mean, talk about fate! Makes me curious as to what the Bright lady has in store for me after the fighting's gone… if it's ever over." She got quiet. "Anyways, he comes in here every once in a while- for the past 6 years and puts a couple dollars worth of quarters in the jukebox with this song over and over and over- record high's been 57."
I had deduced right- my misery was caused by a depressed bastard. Deduced? Where the hell did that come from?
"But have you ever listened to the words?"
"Unfortunately, some pansy whining about his ex-girlfriend."
"Take it out of context. Like Charlie, you feel betrayed. He in that the people he trusted most screwed around behind his back- they stabbed his back and heart at the same time. You feel betrayed in that Scott's left you, Jean, and the team behind. You try to forget about him with the alcohol. Nathan, the tears and grief aren't another battle to be won, but parts to be accepted- or else they'll never go away."
"I don't need your preaching, Ororo." I glare at her hard, though I'm sure it's more akin to a comical Popeye squint.
"I'm trying to be a friend Nathan- not a teammate."
I peer at her suspiciously. Her long platinum hair as tucked behind her ears and flowed over her ebony shoulders and down her back. She has on a black cotton tank top and black pants. Her gaze turned from her beer and met mine. She has blue eyes. Pretty blue and feline like.
"Don't look at me like I'm Apocalypse joining the priesthood! How is it so hard for you to believe that people care for and love you?" Her voice was quiet and the song was beginning again.
"It's not that I don't give a damn, Storm. It's that anyone I've ever loved- EVER – had abandoned me or gotten killed. And after a point, you give up trying because for once it hurts less to be alone." God, that song was getting more and more irritating. My head was beginning to stop floating and changed trajectory and felt heavy as a rock. Suddenly, the jukebox was silent. My eyes shifted from her to the jukebox, wearily. Is it possible? Could it… "Well, I'll be damned…" I muttered.
Ororo smiled and downed the rest of her beer and got off her stool, walking towards the jukebox. I began to sweat with worry- she was drunk. She wouldn't dare request that thing again, would she?
I was relieved to hear a song begin minus the chorus, "Missing you… Missing you…"
It was fast paced. "I've been looking for a love to hold while I lay sleepin'…"
"Care to dance?" She grinned innocently. I knew she was drunk, not as far gone as me but definitely not her.
"Why not? I'm not that good though."
"Me neither." Yet another surprise from the graceful Goddess.
I don't know what we danced, we probably looked like drunken fools but other people in the bar who were just as gone as we were- the Mullets and teased blond haired women joined in. And I found myself laughing. It ended and another song began to take its place. I can't remember what it was though it was definitely the same band and not by that bastard John Flonquing Waite. It ended and we stood face to face.
A slow song came on. It was the Eagles, "Best of my Love."
"This is a good song." She said softly.
"You request it?"
"No."
All around us people were dancing. Couples snuggled in each other's arms as they swayed to it on the worn oak floor. I realized we were still standing stock still about a foot apart. I felt like a dork. No more, no less. Finally, I jumped, "May I have this dance?"
Her eyes brightened and she extended her arm to delicately touch my shoulder, and I slipped my arm around her waist. It was different, and yet somehow familiar. She laid her head on my chest and I knew my heart was racing wildly. She didn't seem to notice but instead breathed in deeply. The song ended and I kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent- and marveling at how delicate she appeared to me tonight- no longer the raging, composed goddess. Stepping on her tiptoes, she kissed my cheek. I think I blushed because she giggled melodically and hugged me.
"We should go home." She said.
"I can't drive, I've had twice as much to drink as you have!"
"Me neither. And you can only imagine everyone's reactions." She looked grim.
"All to true. To the car?"
"To the car."
I grabbed my coat and led the way out into the crisp fall night air and unlocked the Explorer- the only unused vehicle within the mansion garage- and the only one really able to fit me comfortably. I climbed in the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition. It roared to life and the heat came on, fighting the chill of the night. The clock read 2:47 AM.
"You sure you're fine sleeping in the car?" I asked.
"It beats Sinister's laboratory table."
"Point taken."
We folded the back seat over and pulled out the blanket and pillows kept in the back for emergency during the winter. Though with all the licensed driver's mutant powers at Xavier's, they'd be pointless. Most would abandon the vehicle and fly home.
"Do you have enough covers?"
"I'm fine, Nathan. But thank you. Just because people call me a goddess does not mean I cannot sleep comfortably in anything less than a four-poster bed. Good night…" She's drifting off before even finishing.
"G'journey, Ororo." I whisper before sleep overtakes me.
The following morning…
I wake up to the feeling of a hand petting my head.
"Time to rise, sleeping beauty," a soft voice murmurs. It takes a split second before I realize what's going on and last night's events.
"Ororo?"
"What, Nathan?"
"What time is it?"
She's still running her fingers through my hair and the shivers going down my spine aren't exactly unpleasant. "1:52 in the afternoon."
"5 more minutes…" I groan, turning over and burying my face in my coat- Thank God I slept off the hangover.
"Oh, poor baby- rough night?"
"You have no idea- I was at this bar, drinking a few rounds of whiskey…"
I imagine her eyebrows arching, "A few? You don't say!"
"Alright, 8. But this beautiful woman sat next to me and kept pestering me." She playfully pushed me. " I learned that 'hulking depressed man' attitude attracts the non-teased haired ladies, John Waite's the Devil, and it's possible to wake up the next day with the lady still pretty."
"Some night, mine was better."
"How so?" I uncovered my face to see an impish grin on hers. I was curious as to how she was going to elaborate.
She placed two fingers on her temple, tapping them. "My dreams- secret goes with me to the grave!"
"I'm a telepath."
"And I wield lightning."
"Point taken. I'll leave it be."
"Ororo… that story about Charlie…you made that up didn't you?"
"How'd you guess?"
"The bartender overheard and wondered why the cute ones were always crazy."
"I just made that Charlie thing up off the top of my head. I think the jukebox is just broken. And now that I think about it, it had nothing to do with your situation. I can't believe I tried to help you with deciphering an 80s pop hit." I finally was able to view her with a fully awake mind. She was leaning against the back of the passenger seat. Her hair was tousled- not in a teased way, but in a sort of Amazon look. She ran her hand through her long locks and turned to meet my gaze. Getting caught staring while sober is a little more embarrassing than while drunk. She smiled- I honestly believe I'd seen her smile and laugh more in the past 16 hours than the whole time I had known her. Logan was right- she needed to do it more often.
"Want to grab some breakfast?" she asked hopefully.
I mulled it over in my head. "Why not? How about Benji's?" I was climbing into the driver seat and she into the passenger side.
"No! They've been shut down by health inspectors at least 3 times!! Why not Bob's?"
"Too many geriatric people…"
"I would think it to do you good to mingle with your own kind." She eyed me playfully.
I couldn't decide whether to laugh or be offended and it came out in a snort. She began to die laughing.
"Geriatric!! I'll show you geriatric!" I threw the car into reverse and floored, sending her forward caught by her seatbelt. No sooner had we stopped than the pedal was to the floor again sending the car forward and her into the back of her seat, her still giggling wildly.
"You may learn to have a good time yet, Nathan!"