Part Three: Ha-ha-high Babe…
Bobby got up to put on some music as Paige mulled over her important decision. Kurt bamfed out of the scene quickly, to grab another round or two, and when he reappeared she seemed ready to reveal her plan to them. The music on the stereo was quiet, but it had a sort of grinding rock feel that made him feel like he was in a smoky bar somewhere, cramped and dark. Not here in the television room of the X-Mansion.
"Ok, the new rule is, we all have to be called by new nicknames. Not our code names, either, but new ones that we shall now decide on. Anyone who uses other names, has to drink."
They all just stared at her for a moment.
She smiled, turning to Warren, "let's start with you, darlin'," She suggested, with more than a hint of Kentucky back in her speech. She reached out and brushed one of his wings rather seductively, Kurt could feel Warren stiffen his back a bit beside him, and then said, "Pretty Bird!"
Warren shook his head, "Oh god, no Paige…"
"Come on, it's just for fun."
"I like it," Bobby nodded, from across the table, rocking his chair back on two legs and hugging his beer, looking completely comfortable in his boxers now. "don't you like it Kurt?"
He nodded, "Ja, it's fitting."
Havok and Northstar nodded their agreement, and Warren looked crestfallen. "Ah Jesus."
Kurt wondered if he shouldn't have stood up for his friend, however, when Paige turned her glance to the next person at the table. Him. "Sir Bamfsalot."
She had caught Northstar with a mouthful of beer, and the elf-eared mutant was obviously fighting hard not to spray it across the table at that. Bobby simply nodded again, "Oh yeah, definitely. Suits you, Kurt."
He shook his head, dejected, "As you wish, milady."
Northstar, recently recovered from the indignation of having to fight his beer for control of his mouth, cocked his head at her, knowing he would come next.
"Prince Charming," she pronounced, half serious, half mocking.
He smiled, "I'm honored." Kurt got the distinct feeling he knew the nickname was half because of how handsome he was, and half a bit of sarcasm playing off his unwillingness to be at all "charming" most of the time.
Next up was Alex. She looked at him for just a moment. "Cherry Bomb."
"Wha-?" he screwed up his all-American football star face at her, "Cherry Bomb?"
She nodded. "Yeah when you do your thing, it always makes me think of that 70s song. Hello daddy, hello mom, I'm a ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!"
Kurt laughed out loud at her performance, and pointed a blue finger at Havok, "Not bad, nein?"
He only shook his head and grinned, "Whatever she says. Someone else get a nine fast and nullify this bullshit."
Paige shot him a mean look and then turned her attention to Bobby. "And for you…"
He sat his chair back on all four legs now and smiled sweetly at her, "I know. Sexy Motherfucker. I know…"
"Sour Puss," she nodded.
The look of sheer indignation on his face was, Kurt had to admit, priceless. "What?! Speedbump over there is Prince Charming and I'm Sour Puss?!"
"Stop looking so goddamn mopey all the time and we'll talk," she said, brusquely.
Before Northstar could protest being called "Speedbump," Warren picked up his own card and announced, "Ten! Waterfall!"
Bobby had to admit, he was feeling far more relaxed. He had the latest Black Rebel Motorcycle Club on the stereo, his teammates were being… well, team-ish, and he wasn't thinking about… it.
Or, he hadn't been till just now.
Anyhow, He thought Paige's nicknames were pretty clever, even if they made little sense.
Warren lifted his bottle to his lips, and they all did the same, in unison, on their third bottles and buzzing because they'd done it so fast, for the most part. Not like they drank a lot. Training, exercise, teaching, missions… everyone here had too much to think about to do this very often. They were probably all cheap drunks.
After a decent amount of time, Warren put down the bottle. Kurt continued for a second or so, then set his down.
Jean-Paul. Goddamn French Canadian son of a bitch. He kept drinking, again with the huge gulps, until Paige started making threatening noises at him again. He stopped, finally, grinning, and Alex immediately put down his own bottle, another deep breath, a mean look at Northstar. Bobby put his down as well, though he had stopped really swallowing a few seconds before, so Paige wouldn't assault him. When she was finally allowed to drop her bottle, she glared at him. "Prince Charming, I'm about to kick your ass."
He only smiled at her. An infuriating sort of smile, rather smug. "You know, we never did give you a nickname."
Inspiration hit him, "Kentucky Fried!" Bobby jumped out of his chair in his boxers, holding one finger aloft like a great orator.
"Oh yeah," Alex was sort of… yeah, he was giggling, "that's classic. I love it. Alright Kentucky Fried, stop complaining. If you can't run with the big dogs, get under the porch!"
Bobby re-seated himself and gave Husk a friendly pat on the shoulder as he did so, "Nice huh?"
She tried to glare, but ended up laughing.
Phew, that last waterfall had really knocked him for a loop.
Paige was feeling a bit dizzy, shed been drinking so fast. Normally, she could do a sixer without feeling too much. Course, that'd been a few years ago. She hadn't drank this quickly in… oh god. Years.
Warren. God, he was amazing. Square jaw, piercing eyes, that low sexy voice. He'd been so kind to her. Helped her so much. She caught his eye and he beamed a smile at her. It lit up his heroic face, so she knew it was real. Genuine.
"Well, what do you know!" She was suddenly torn from her reverie by the sound of Iceman's voice, devilish and amused.
Kurt was covering his face, his card in front of him. A king.
She began laughing. Oh god, that was the best rule ever. "Shirt off, Sir Bamfsalot."
He shook his head once, and then the former priest pulled his shirt over his head. Mmmmm. Gorgeous… but fuzzy.
Probably felt like velvet, she thought, before she could stop herself.
Ok. Now she was being a magpie. Easily distracted. See something shiny, want it for her nest. Her mother used to call her that sometimes, when she'd get like this. Of course, if her mother were in a room with a couple of half naked X-Men, she'd probably be distracted too, she reasoned, silently.
Jean-Paul also seemed to admire the view quickly, though in a much less obvious way than she, before reaching out and taking his own card. "Ah," he smiled, "a six."
Nightcrawler, beside him, crossed his arms over his chest.
"Cold?" Northstar asked him, seemingly very concerned.
"A little," he admitted, shrugging.
"Great, have six drinks then, it'll warm you up."
Feeling very proud of himself, Jean-Paul watched Alex reach out and take a card of his own. He looked at it for a moment, then peered over the top of it, eyes going from side to side quickly. As if he were hiding something.
All at once, he dropped the card, a ten of hearts, slammed his palm into the table, then hit himself in the head.
Oh Jesus, Northstar thought, not this again. Certainly, it was good to relax now and then. But some things he just refused to do. Even if his head was pleasantly fuzzy.
Each of the others did it in turn, Bobby getting perhaps a little too overzealous and letting out a small, irritated, "Ow…" With it.
And they all turned to look at him.
"Not a chance," he muttered, as he picked up the bottle and took it like a man.
"How's that stick feel up there, JP?" Bobby elbowed Alex and the two men grinned at him.
"Wouldn't you love to know, Drake?" He inquired, conversationally.
Bobby's pink lips formed a small "o" and he shook his head, "Oh, that's cold."
"Drink, Prince Charming," Kurt said from beside him.
He turned to look at the team leader, "I did."
"You didn't call him Sour Puss."
"Merde…," he swore, sucking down another drink.
"You too Sour Puss," Nightcrawler said, almost singsonging it. He was enjoying this immensely, it was clear. Despite the lack of clothing he was forced to endure.
Northstar could see Iceman thinking, the wheels turning, and then he remembered. He'd called him JP. "Aw shit," he took a drink too.
That's what I say, Northstar thought.
He knew he looked like a royal ass. Hell, he felt like one. But the truth of the matter was, he was having fun. For the first time in a long time. He was having fun. Free of the drama… well, almost. Just… almost… letting his guard down a bit?
No, that wasn't the way to think of it. It'd be back up in a heartbeat if he started that.
Next, Bobby reached a hand for a card. "Jack," he announced. He then paused and cocked his head a bit. Charming, really, the way he did that. It wasn't kiddish at all. Thoughtful, though. Intelligent. "Ok… X-teams. Or mutant crime-fighting teams. Or whatever."
Jean-Paul shook his head a bit. He was staring and he knew it. Not that it mattered, as long as they didn't notice.
And fuck it anyhow. This was fun.
"X-men," Bobby gave the obvious answer first.
Warren watched Paige panic slightly, as she'd obviously been hoping to be the one who got to give that answer. Her cheeks were flushed, having started on her fourth beer somehow. She looked radiant, really. "Gen X!" She announced with great ceremony.
His turn now. "X-Factor," he added, trying not to bring up too many memories with the name. The alcohol helped with that, of course.
"Excalibur," Nightcrawler drawled from beside him, smiling contentedly and leaning back on his chair just a bit, as Bobby had been before.
"Alpha Flight," Northstar threw in, casually.
Warren caught Bobby's eye and they both tried not to laugh. Alpha Flight. Ha!
"X-treme," Alex shrugged, mercifully covering up their muffled chuckles at the mention of the Canadian mutant team.
"The Morlocks?" Bobby threw out, obviously surprised that it had come back over to him.
Warren, of course, knew what his next answer would be. Assuming Paige could come up with something…
"Defenders," she said, turning to look at him, an innocent smile on her pretty face.
He felt his brow furrow. That had been his answer. "Dammit," he laughed, taking a drink of defeat, a nice long one. "You stole my answer. I figured my partner in crime would have that one."
"Was leaving you a bone, man," Bobby laughed.
"Anyhow, I say Jean-Paul loses. I mean, Alpha Flight? That doesn't count!" He could hardly get the sentence out he was laughing so hard by this time.
Bobby was nearly on the floor, trying not to laugh, and even Kurt and Alex were snickering on either side of the table.
The immovable Northstar just shook his head. "Ah, Americans."
Alex stared at him for a moment, in shock. "That's it? Nothing else about how we wish we were Quebecois, or whatever that big ass word is? Nothing about Canadian superiority?"
Jean-Paul only shrugged. Rather an elegant movement, Warren noticed. "No. But You know, Pretty Bird, you do have to drink as well."
Confusion. What was he on about now? "How's that?"
"You called me Jean-Paul."
Warren held up his bottle in salute, "touché!"
A thought occurred to him then. What if Jean-Paul was like that really bad-ass guy in every Kung Fu film? There was always one. Usually a long haired Chinese fellow, who never had to say a word. Didn't need comebacks. Didn't need to prove anything. He just nodded and smiled, like Northstar…
"Of course…," the dark haired man cocked his head again, "considering that the X-men have recruited a few of us ex- department H-ers… I'd say that would nullify their status… our status as well. Non?"
Or, maybe not.
Alex shook his head at the strangely friendly banter between his teammates. Normally, Northstar and Archangel, both usually wound tighter than anyone else he'd ever known (aside from Scott, of course,) would've been at each others' throats by now. Instead they were laughing and drinking.
Perhaps they should do this more.
He shot Paige a grateful smile, for coming to rescue him from his pathetic sulking in his room. She caught it, and smiled back, wrinkling the corners of her sparkling eyes just a bit.
Sweet girl. Good family.
Now it was her turn to draw. She reached out for a new card, picked it up, and started to laugh.
Alex was lost, but he heard the Canuck beside him groan, "Oh, no…"
She dropped the card, smacked it, and smacked herself in the head.
Quickly, in unison with Bobby, Kurt, and Warren, Alex did the same.
Jean-Paul just picked up his bottle and took a long drink. After a few minutes of laughter, he simply looked at Warren, "Your turn, Ange." He carefully avoided the use of either of Warren's names.
Warren made a definite effort to pull a straight face, and grabbed himself a card. He looked so much less stiff when he actually smiled, Alex noticed. He looked like a young football star, a college kid. Not like a superhero who'd carried the weight of the world on his shoulders… on his wings, for years. He wondered if he looked the same. Did they all?
He shook the thoughts out of his head. None of that now.
"An eight," Archangel told them. "Never have I ever… had to work with a sibling!"
It took it a minute to register with Alex that he had, on may occasions, worked for (and against) his brother. He raised his bottle with Northstar and Husk, and the others got to sit back and watch.
Kurt, who had been silent for a few moments, sitting there grinning happily, nodded his approval. "Nice strategy, Herr Worthington."
"Drink!" Bobby pointed at the fuzzy elf.
Kurt smiled, almost as if he'd been asking for it, and took another drink, emptying the bottle. "Ach, refill time already!" And he was gone in a bamf of brimstone.
"Man… it's so cool when he does that," Alex said aloud.
Of course, he hadn't meant to. He felt his face grow hot as his teammates began to look at him.
But, surprisingly, Bobby said, "Yeah, I always thought it was the coolest thing. I mean… even the sound."
Warren was nodding, Jean-Paul raising his eyebrow, and Paige starting to giggle a bit when the elf returned, arms full of alcohol. "Here we go! Who's next? Ohhh.. me."
And Bobby started to sing a little from beside him, rocking back and forth on his chair, obviously enjoying the music. He even looked a bit like a rock star with his brown hair falling over his face like that. "You're ha-ha-high babe, you can't keep it on the ground, keep it on the ground…"