(Okay, so /NEXT/ time, "Dinner and a Movie." My bad.)

Toad and X-men (c) Marvel



Modeling Session

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"Hey, Todd. How was your day?" Gabby called, trudging in and dropping her portfolio with a relieved sigh. Toad forced himself relax --the door opening had startled him -- and paused the game.

"Ah, y'know...ran down a few pedestrians, bounced off the walls some. Took a kip." He shrugged. He was annoyed with himself for needing the nap; it was unlike him to be so tired.

"Oh gah, I'm sorry," groaned Gabby. "It must be dead boring for you."

"Nah, actually. It's a lot like being back..." He stopped himself before he said 'at the lair' and finished lamely with: "...home." Gabby looked at him curiously and started pulling out her drawing board.

"Hey, y'don't mind if Zoey comes by t'night, do ya?" She asked suddenly. Toad blinked.

"Who?"

"Red-head from the boat, th' one Ang is stayin' with. Real bubbly?"

"Worse'n you?" he asked. Gabby chuckled.

"Suppose I should take that as a compliment," she said, settling herself in her chair. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she said,"Well, if you like me enough to insult me like that, it's kinda a mark of friendship, wouldn't you say?" Toad frowned and turned back to the game, not wanting to talk about it. Friendship? Nah. He was grateful to her, sure, and more than a bit surprised that she had helped him this much, but friendship...He shook his head.

"N'. I dun'think so."

What kind of a friendship involved insults? Briefly, he thought back to Sabertooth. They hadn't been friends, they hadn't even liked or respected one another, but they had been comrades. And he'd always been taking the mickey out of the ferocious mutant. But that had been more out of relief to find someone about as low on the food chain as he was. He did vaguely remember kids from the orphanage insulting one another and being best buddies, but mostly he'd been too busy trying to be alone to figure it out. Anyway, he told himself, there's no friendship here. I'm just laying low until I can get back on my feet. I'll leave tomorrow, if I can.

"Well, anyway," Gabby continued, skritching furiously at her paper. Did he imagine it, or was there a note of hurt in her voice. He mentally shook himself and focused on the game. Imagined, definitely. "Zoey said she'd bring Chinese. And some movies. And I'm not one to pass up free food, so if you don't mind another watching movies with a few /not-friends/, then I'll call her up and tell to come." Ah, maybe he hadn't imagined it. He frowned again. It shouldn't bother her, not being friends with him. Besides, she shouldn't be giving away friendship so freely. Maybe that was another benefit to being a normal: you could just open up to whoever and not get shot down. His mouth twisted into a bitter grin. Yeah, not used to having your friendship rejected, are you? Well, tough.

"Well?"

"Mm? Oh. Yeah, sure," Toad shrugged. Gabby grabbed the cordless next to her chair and dialed.

"Yo' Ang. Zoe there?...Yes, he is....No, I don't think so..." A sigh. "Look, Ang...right, I'm sorry too...No, it's okay, just...is Zoey there?...." A different tone. "Zoe! Hey girl!...Yeah, it's cool....Y'know me, fried rice." She covered the mouth piece. "Anything in particular you want?" Toad shrugged and shook his head. "Nah, he says 'no.' .... Yes, he eats. A lot." The last aimed at him good-naturedly. At least, he /hoped/ it was good-natured. "I dunno, something funny. ... Oh yes! Sexy British accents all around.... I know /he's/ Australian, I was talking about Paul Bettany. ...Well, I think he is, so shut up." Toad paused and squinted at her. 'Sexy British accents?' And who the bloody hell was Paul Bettany? With a sinking feeling, Toad realized it was going to be a chick-flick. That shook him: it was such a /normal/ worry, what kind of a movie your friends--no, not friends...um...people-- were going to make you watch. Gabby kept rabbiting on. "Mm...yeah, he's sexy too. ... No, he was /not/ good in Episode I! No one was good in Episode I! ... Okay, conceded, but only because the bo-lightsaber rocked and he didn't have any crappy lines.... So help me, Zoe, you make me sit through that again, I am never speaking to you..." Laughter.

Toad withdrew further into himself, listening to her talk. It threw into focus just how out of his element he was. These were the people, these normals, whose mundane little lives he'd been trying to overthrow. An odd thought occurred to him. If those stupid X-men hadn't shown up and Magneto had been able to finish mutating the world leaders...well, Gabby and her friends might have been around the harbor then, right? Maybe not right on it; he remembered what security had been like ("had" being the operative word, he thought with a smirk). But, wasn't it possible that... He shook himself angrily. There was no point in thinking about that. The plan hadn't worked anyway. To his right, Gabby said goodbye and hung up the phone.

"So..." He said awkwardly, flicking the game back on.

"So." Her voice was stiff, the good-natured tone gone. He shifted uncomfortably and sighed. The game was losing his interest, but he didn't feel like trying to start a conversation or doing anything different. But you could only hold up a bank so many times.

For a long while they sat at their respective diversions, neither speaking. The only sounds were the people pleading for mercy on the screen and the occasional rustle of paper as Gabby flipped over a fresh sheet. Toad saw her looking at him out of the corner of his eye and squirmed. She made an exasperated sound and turned another sheet over. Curiosity got the better of him and he paused the game.

"Whatcha drawin'?" Gabby looked up, startled, then began hurriedly flipping pages over.

"Eh? Oh, drawing teacher told us to do a series of life drawings for Wednesday."

"Like, what, fruit and stuff?" He got up --still carefully -- and craned his neck to see. Gabby moved the pad from his line of vision. "Come on. Lemme see. Whatcha been drawin'?" he insisted. With a sigh, she pushed the pad to him and turned to face the wall. Curiously, he opened it. The top page was a landscape...that wasn't it. He flipped through until...

"Hey..." He stopped, staring at a charcoal drawing of a young man in baggy clothes crouched over a video game controller. Gabby twitched, as if to take it out of his hands, but sighed and gave up. He turned the page. A close up of long-fingered hands holding the controller. Turn. A head shot close up of a profile that he recognized as...

"That's not me," he said flatly, closing the drawing pad and handing it back to her. She took it with a glare and flipped back to the page. Suddenly, her hand shot out and grabbed him by the chin, turning his head to match the angle of the drawn one.

"Well, it would be if you didn't move around so much," she explained, aggravated. He jerked his hands from her fingers and glared back at her.

"No, I mean..." He meant what? It just wasn't him. He knew what he looked like. The face on the page was too...normal-looking. Sure, it had his spiky hair and large eyes, but...it looked so...human. He frowned at her. "I don't look like that."

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, just held the pad at arms length and studied her work. Her left hand went back to his chin before he could protest and she began rubbing and scribbling quickly. Releasing him, she eyed the picture appraisingly. "Nose was the wrong shape. Think I got it now," she muttered. Toad just looked at her like she had started speaking in a foreign language. She turned the page to him. "Any better?"

"That's not me," he repeated, wondering if maybe /he'd/ started speaking in a foreign language. Didn't she get it? Gabby rolled her eyes and turned to a clean sheet.

"Everyone's a bloody critic," she muttered. "Since you're not doing anything, how 'bout modeling for me?"

"Wha--?"

"I've done Angie dozens of times, I don't even have to look at her anymore. Zoey can't sit still long enough, and Mike's too..." She gestured with her hand. "...Buff."

"Y'suggestin' somethin'?" he said, mildly offended.

"Just that I like slender guys. To draw!" she added hurriedly, color flooding her cheeks. Toad scowled at her.

"I'm not modeling for you," he said testily. Draw the freak, right? Good practice for creating monsters later, huh?

"Please?" She cocked her head like a puppy. "Just for a bit. Until Zoey gets here." He glared and crossed his arms protectively over his chest. No meant no, dangit! Her expression turned sly. "It's not like I haven't seen you nude alrea--"

"What?" he yelped, a little bit louder than intended. Gabby just widened her eyes innocently.

"Okay, so you still had boxers on, but the point is..."

"No!"

Gabby sighed theatrically and looked at the blank page in mock-despair.

"And I was so hoping to finally get to draw a guy with a nice body too." Toad had had enough. He didn't need people making fun of him; he'd had plenty of it his whole life. Feeling the sudden need for a drink, he went into the kitchen for another beer. Gabby called after him, "You should see the people they make us draw in class! Some of 'em should never be seen in shorts, let alone in the buff." He made an aggravated sound and returned, beer in hand.

"You're not going to bloody shut up until I let you, will you?" he demanded irately. Gabby shook her head smiling happily. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine."

"Great! Just...sit over there, I guess." Toad complied. "Mmm..." she tapped her pencil to her lips. "Loose the shirt." He blinked, nervous now.

"Y'sure...?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "You've got a nice build and I'd like to try to get it down. Y'can keep your pants on, if y'want," she added with a sly grin. Toad flushed a slightly darker shade of green and he slipped his shirt off, wondering when everything had stopped making sense. "Hmm... maybe one of those stretches you were doing this morning? Or just like that's good, really. Only..." She got up and adjusted his position so that his chin rested lightly on one hand and the other hand was draped over his knee. Toad shivered as she ran her fingers across his skin, trying to get the placement right. He was beginning to get an overload on his "weird-sh*t-o-meter" again. Gabby fixed the angle of the lamp, and satisfied, went back to the chair and began to draw.

He sat there for about an hour, with no sound but the skritch of her charcoal and the faint hum of the paused video game. Every now and again Gabby would mutter to herself and rub something out. Once he'd gotten over the original chagrin, he watched her with fascination. He'd never watched someone really draw before and it was intriguing to see the expression of concentration slip over her face like a mask as she lost herself to everything but the work in front of her. It was more than a little unnerving to have her eyes studying him as though he were a piece of furniture, though. But the way the tip of her tongue stuck out from between her teeth as she mused over the drawing made up for...He closed his eyes tightly. No, it didn't, and no he wasn't looking at anything but her hands now. He'd always liked art, even if he'd never been much good at it. It had been a pretty good way to work out frustration, until he'd discovered martial arts and pretty much dismissed it as useless. So much easier to forget the world around you when you just focused on training your body.

"Whew..." whistled Gabby, glancing at her watch. "Sorry, usually we give models a break by now."

"'M okay," he said. She looked skeptical.

"Y'sure? If you need to stretch your legs out or something..." Her own leg bent in sympathy. He shook his head.

"Nah. This is actually more comfortable, really." She nodded and went back to drawing. "Can I see?"

"No, you'll jinx it," she said glibly. Fifteen more minutes. "How the hell can you stay still that long?" He shrugged his shoulders, eliciting a half-uttered protest from Gabby.

"Practice."

Another fifteen minutes. Gabby sat back with a sigh, stretching her legs and shaking her hand out.

"Y'can move now." He leaned back, stretching his arms out. "I can't believe your legs aren't asleep by now," she said. He gave a half-hearted grin and didn't reply. "Thanks, man. You're a really great model. You never moved a bit." He shrugged again. Now that she was animate again, he was back to feeling uncomfortable. "Seriously," she said, getting up. "We could use you down at the school. Art department would pay you good money to come and model for us. You've got incredible endurance. Not to mention very well-toned muscles." The last sounded more like an appraisal than anything else.

"And green skin," he pointed out sardonically. Gabby frowned.

"Not an issue, unless you're working with paint." She got herself a beer. "Want one?"

"Already got one." He held up his bottle.

"Good. There's only two left." She took a sip and eyed him. "Up for another?" He blinked and nodded. Feeling a little odd, he added,

"It keeps that mouth of yours shut." There. Back to insults. That felt better. Gabby just grinned.

"Yeah, sure. How 'bout some music this time around?"

"'Kay..." They sifted through the CDs together and it wasn't until found himself brushing something from his face --a wayward frizz of hair-- that he realized how close they were. And remember how shirtless he was. He mumbled something and backed away.

"Lord of the Rings, Abbey Road, or highlights from Phantom of the Opera?" asked Gabby, holding up the three CDs.

"Um...Phantom, I guess." He'd seen it once, snuck into a dark theater with a group of boys from the orphanage. And Magneto had been played it occasionally. He only vaguely remembered it. He couldn't recall if he'd liked it or not. "Hey, what happened to the Phantom at the end?"

"Hm? Oh, ah..." Gabby paused, searching his memory. "He finally realized that he was hurting Christine and let her and her dork of a lover go free, then vanished as the angry mob closed in. Left a rose on his chair where he'd been, I think. Real sad, but cool."

"Ah." No, he wasn't too sure he liked it at all. Of course, it stayed true to life, and he had to give it something for that. Gabby put in the CD and pressed pause, then turned back to him.

"So..." he asked nervously. "What do you want me to do this time?" Put my bloody shirt back on, probably, he thought.

"Mm...You're a martial artist, right? How 'bout some stances? Something cool-looking."

"Cat stance?" he suggested. She considered for a moment, then shook her head.

"Nah, too awkward...back stance maybe?" He went into it and she shook her head again, then named another position. That too proved inadequate. She went through a few stances and he mimicked hers (better, he thought) so she could see.

In the end, she drew one of him in a loose traditional sparring stance, and a quick series of sketches of him stretching ("I can't hold those forever," he told her). By the end of it, Toad actually found himself having fun picking out new poses ("Dang! Wish I could do that!" she muttered appreciatively as he slipped into a position worthy of a contortionist.) and seeing her reaction ("What did I tell you about not having children!" -- a pained sympathy yelp), though he wished she'd let him put his shirt back on (the last time he had tried, she had snatched it from him and put it under her cushion). He wasn't quite comfortable with so much skin exposed, but she ignored his protests ("Good for your burns anyway," she said. "Lets 'em get some air."). At last, she moved aside her pad and threw his shirt back to him.

"Akay, I'm done torturin' you fer now," she grinned. With an unsure, lopsided smirk, he slipped it back on and smoothed the wrinkles out. "Y'doin' okay?" He nodded. He felt slightly tired and woozy and had a small headache, but otherwise fine. It was great to move around again. "Here." She tossed him a bottle of Tylenol.

"Still druggin' me?" he asked with a grin.

"You're gonna be sore tomorrow."

"I don't get sore." That wasn't entirely true, but it was close enough.

"Huh." She gave him a look that clearly told him that she would be highly amused when he woke up the next morning incapable of movement. He ignored it and reached for the drawing pad.

"So can I see now?" She wrested it away, then changed her mind and handed it to him. Some of his light-hearted attitude disappeared as he flipped the pages. Was that really how she saw him? That couldn't be him, whatever she said. "Still doesn't look like me," he muttered, handing it back. Gabby's face turned serious.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's just...not me," he said awkwardly, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't look like that."

"Like what?"

"That!" He pointed to the drawing of the fighting stance. How dense was she? Gabby shook her head.

"I think that's exactly how you look, give or take a few artistic screw ups. I told you--" Here she poked him suddenly in the stomach, causing him to retreat. "You've got a really nice body. You take care of it and it shows. You focused on speed instead of brute force in you training and that shows too." Toad shrugged. He was proud of his training, and he'd admit that he had a well-conditioned body, but still... "Look, you want proof, we'll show this to Zoey when she gets here."

"Yeah, well..." He took a long drink, trying to think of something slightly insulting to say. "You're still annoying."

She just laughed.

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Ah, I feel like I should apologize for this. Originally it was supposed to just be a side thing, but when I started writing I realized that it really would work. Toad (or Ray Park ^_^) would be an excellent model. Martial artists usually are and he's not too buff (I do like my skinny guys...tho he's not that either). This chapter was kind of just for me, in a way, though if you like picturing a nervous, shirtless Toad, I guess it works for you too. Every artist dreams about getting a good model.

Also, I wasn't planning on Toad's reaction to seeing himself drawn, but when it happened, it made perfect sense. Our self perception is really based on what other people tell us, and so if a child grows up just hearing things like "freak" and "ugly" he could be bloody Orlando Bloom and think he was Quasidmodo. Toad's had that kind of childhood, and I think being confronted with a simple drawing of himself would shake those self-images a bit because in a quick, amateur charcoal drawing, blotchy or green skin just won't show up, so the picture would look human. Actually, it'd look quite a bit like Ray Park. And that's enough to combat someone's self-image of being ugly, ne? Mmmm....ray park...