Chapter 2- Sorry it took so long. It was Panther's job to type it out, but
she's got so many to do, she fell a bit behind (big shock there). So here's
the next chapter, and more will be forthcoming shortly. I hope. Oh, and
since last chapter you only get to find out what Pyro's wearing (the rubber
duckie boxers!) I shall now inform you what the other two hot slabs of
muscular male meat are wearing. Remy is in a pair of faded, very comfy red
plaid boxers and a wife beater = P (pant, pant!). Piotr's in a pair of cut
off sweat pants, and a white T-shirt (mmmmm... ().
Disclaimer- I own... let me think now... none of it. If I did, I wouldn't be posting HERE would I? We? Whatever.
For those of you (all three of you) that reviewed: WE LUV YOU SO MUCH!!! COME BACK!!!! I'm no good at the individual stuff, and you probably don't really want to read it anyway, so let's just get on with the story, huh?
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The three guys munched and basically vegged out until they finally slipped into unconsciousness. They all got a good four or five hour nap in before hunger attacked like a kitten with claws, and about as annoying. Piotr was the last one awake and found that he was alone in the TV room. He got up, wearing just a pair of grey shorts that had been cut from sweat pants (A/N: they did do one thing right in the movies. Rrrairrrr!) and went to the kitchen. Remy and St. John were once again scrounging for something real to eat.
"I... I hate t' say it," Remy sighed deeply. "But I t'ink de only t'ings left t' eat are... de leftovers."
"Please tell me you are kidding," Colossus pleaded mildly.
"'Fraid not, mate," Pyro said. "Jeeze, how old _is_ some'a this stuff?"
Piotr said something softly in Russian. Probably something along the lines of: When did we eat last, anyway?
Remy and John stood in the open doorway of the refrigerator, trying to see if something would magically appear if they let out enough cold air. Finally Remy smirked and looked over at St. John.
"Bettchu won' eat it, doh!" (A/N: you can tar and feather my friend Robert for that one.)
"What? The _leftovers_?!" John asked.
"I have got five dollars that says you won't, Saint John," Piotr joined in the challenge.
"_Ten_ says you won't either, metal boy," St. John shot back.
"OOH! Stakes!" Remy grinned. "Twen'y each if ya c'n finish off t'ree leftovers- each, not t'gethuh."
Piotr looked into the fridge and frowned. "I see no steaks." Remy laughed while Pyro pulled out a rice-like substance and walked over to the table, all gung-ho for the money.
"Not like pieces of cow," John explained. "Stakes, like gambling stakes."
Piotr nodded and pulled out a pot of leftover chili. After lifting the lid to find it nearly dehydrated, he rethought his decision. "Twenty dollars is not a lot of money."
John pondered this while the Cajun tried to figure out how to convince him otherwise.
"More than I got," St. John said. "Hey, this is that stuff you made last week, Remy. It's...cold."
Piotr sat down at the table across from John and went to get a spoon. He started digging his first bite out, shoveled it into his mouth, and looked up at the ceiling, pondering.
"I think Sabertooth made this," he mused, post-swallow. "I did not, and you two would have added too much spice."
"I like t'ings spicey," Remy defended himself, a little offended. Just watching them eat was making him more hungry. [Mebe I should go grab de icecream.]
Pyro finished his rice and looked back at the fridge. "Two more? I'm screwed."
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A/N: Okay, I need all three of you to review of you want the next chapter. I'll take two of you. I'LL EVEN TAKE ONE!!!!! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!! I'M DESPERATE!!!!!!!!!!!! But I do need some feed back if you want me to load up the next chapter. I told you I love, didn't I? Just checking. Cuz I do! Really, I do. Review.
Disclaimer- I own... let me think now... none of it. If I did, I wouldn't be posting HERE would I? We? Whatever.
For those of you (all three of you) that reviewed: WE LUV YOU SO MUCH!!! COME BACK!!!! I'm no good at the individual stuff, and you probably don't really want to read it anyway, so let's just get on with the story, huh?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The three guys munched and basically vegged out until they finally slipped into unconsciousness. They all got a good four or five hour nap in before hunger attacked like a kitten with claws, and about as annoying. Piotr was the last one awake and found that he was alone in the TV room. He got up, wearing just a pair of grey shorts that had been cut from sweat pants (A/N: they did do one thing right in the movies. Rrrairrrr!) and went to the kitchen. Remy and St. John were once again scrounging for something real to eat.
"I... I hate t' say it," Remy sighed deeply. "But I t'ink de only t'ings left t' eat are... de leftovers."
"Please tell me you are kidding," Colossus pleaded mildly.
"'Fraid not, mate," Pyro said. "Jeeze, how old _is_ some'a this stuff?"
Piotr said something softly in Russian. Probably something along the lines of: When did we eat last, anyway?
Remy and John stood in the open doorway of the refrigerator, trying to see if something would magically appear if they let out enough cold air. Finally Remy smirked and looked over at St. John.
"Bettchu won' eat it, doh!" (A/N: you can tar and feather my friend Robert for that one.)
"What? The _leftovers_?!" John asked.
"I have got five dollars that says you won't, Saint John," Piotr joined in the challenge.
"_Ten_ says you won't either, metal boy," St. John shot back.
"OOH! Stakes!" Remy grinned. "Twen'y each if ya c'n finish off t'ree leftovers- each, not t'gethuh."
Piotr looked into the fridge and frowned. "I see no steaks." Remy laughed while Pyro pulled out a rice-like substance and walked over to the table, all gung-ho for the money.
"Not like pieces of cow," John explained. "Stakes, like gambling stakes."
Piotr nodded and pulled out a pot of leftover chili. After lifting the lid to find it nearly dehydrated, he rethought his decision. "Twenty dollars is not a lot of money."
John pondered this while the Cajun tried to figure out how to convince him otherwise.
"More than I got," St. John said. "Hey, this is that stuff you made last week, Remy. It's...cold."
Piotr sat down at the table across from John and went to get a spoon. He started digging his first bite out, shoveled it into his mouth, and looked up at the ceiling, pondering.
"I think Sabertooth made this," he mused, post-swallow. "I did not, and you two would have added too much spice."
"I like t'ings spicey," Remy defended himself, a little offended. Just watching them eat was making him more hungry. [Mebe I should go grab de icecream.]
Pyro finished his rice and looked back at the fridge. "Two more? I'm screwed."
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A/N: Okay, I need all three of you to review of you want the next chapter. I'll take two of you. I'LL EVEN TAKE ONE!!!!! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!! I'M DESPERATE!!!!!!!!!!!! But I do need some feed back if you want me to load up the next chapter. I told you I love, didn't I? Just checking. Cuz I do! Really, I do. Review.