Bobby fidgeted in his seat, the seatbelt tightening around his middle and neck. Warren reached over and flicked on the defroster. "Bobby, this isn't exactly adding to the safety of traveling with a new driver." He flexed his hands to get the cold-induced stiffness out before placing them back on the steering wheel.

"Sorry." Bobby blushed and tried to relax, his hands smoothing out the legs of his jeans, over and over again, calming himself with the feel of the denim under his palms. It's just a bar and you're only six years under age. Just a bar, and it's only a gay bar. It's only a bar and if Professor Xavier or Summers or Gray or Munroe or hell, Logan finds out you were there you'll only be in all kinds of hellish shit. Only a bar. Just relax- it'll be fun.

"Have you been to clubs before?"

"I went to a bar once with John. But, no." He blushed more.

"Relax. It's no big deal. Just, watch whom you talk to and what you drink. If you do drink. I mean, you don't have to or anything- I doubt anyone will notice. But-"

"Warren, I've drank before. And for the record, had marijuana. I'm ok, more than ok, on that bit." Warren blushed now. Bobby remembered Scott's wine coolers, remembered sneaking into a bar a year ago last October when he was fourteen and the way John had managed to order them drinks not once, but twice without getting carded, how the whole walk back they were brushing against each other and not mentioning it, how they pissed in the woods together and talked the whole time about six thousand different things. That had been more or less the moment Bobby had realized what he really felt. And smoking with John. Especially smoking with John.

"Sorry."

"'S ok." They drove silently the rest of the way into Graham City- it was a misleading name for a town only seven or eight miles in diameter but it had a downtown which Bobby guessed, led to the name. Or maybe it had been named back when having a paved street defined you as a city, or at least a wealthy town and that's why it was Graham City; they were the first to lay down cobblestones or-

"Bobby? We're here." As they walked to the club, Bobby kept twisting his hands together. "Calm down. You look nice."

"So do you." Warren, for once, didn't look prep school, wearing black pants and a dress shirt. Bobby had stuck to jeans and a silky short-sleeved shirt Warren had loaned him. It was pretty much his every day wardrobe, just more expensive and with a different feel across his skin that probably made him look or older or rich. Both were always nice advantages when it came to getting into places underage, Warren had told him.

(later)

Bobby was leaning against the wall and waiting to work up the nerve to either A- leave, B- ask the bartender for a Shirley Temple because the look on his face would probably be worth the past uncomfortable hour, or C- ask Warren to dance because he knew that was the proper thing to do. The only problems he could think of were A- he didn't have the keys and calling Logan to ask him to come and pick him up from a gay bar would result in about three new levels of hell. Not to mention it'd be awkward. B- to ask the bartender he would have to cut across the dance floor at some point and as he had spent the past forty-five minutes training his eyes on a small spot on the opposite wall so he'd stop staring at all the... well... the gayness. That would put all that hard work to waste and he didn't want his ass kicked by anyone for staring, thank you. And C- to ask Warren to dance would lead to the conclusion that he could not dance, he could not sway gracefully to a beat, and he would still have to cross the dance floor to interrupt Warren's very intimate conversation with another guy.

"You know, every guy here has been where you're standing now." A young man leaned against the wall next to him. He didn't look like John, which was good. For one, there was noting stylish about John's the-right-side-of-tangled hair, and two, John didn't wear ripped mesh shirts that rode up on his stomach exposing- well, John didn't wear mesh. So maybe this meant that Bobby didn't run the risk of spending the night staring at him, comparing him and unable to formulate polite conversation. Part of Bobby went a little happy (and a little nervous) at the thought of experiencing the normal teenage hormonal bliss of a random hookup.

"Hope they were all wearing condoms." The man laughed and held out his hand. Three, John didn't shake hands.

"Lucas."

"Bobby."

"Nice to meet you. And trust me, everyone relaxes at some point. Took me three hours before I worked up the courage to talk to someone."

"Been here an hour, I guess. Can't read my watch real well, with the lighting and everything."

"Well, in honor of you beating my record, can I buy you a drink?" Bobby shrugged and followed him to the bar, catching Warren's eye and his 'oh thank you sweet Jesus, Bobby is going to finally get laid' look. He glared and Warren smiled, and then went back to talking. "Beer ok? Keep it simple and all that?"

"Fine." Bobby drank his slowly as they sat at the bar. Tempted as he was to rush the whole thing, to prove that yes, he was definitely of the legal age to drink alcohol, and yes, he had had alcohol before, he decided it was better not to risk finding out what this place's version of a wet T-Shirt contest was because of inebriation.

"So do you dance?" Bobby blushed and shook his head. "Why not?"

"I can't. Asking me to dance is kind of asking to carry around a dead elephant or something."

"C'mon... You don't look like you weight three tons." Lucas grabbed his hand, pulling him up. "I'll show you how. It's not like anyone's watching." Warren is, Bobby wanted to say but decided on,

"But our drinks-"

"I'll buy you another." It didn't take very long for Bobby to realize that junior high semi-formals (the last time he had danced in public) and this place had very little in common. Dancing here was more along the lines of trying to climb into your partner's pants by osmosis, a far cry from the three-foot gap with his last dancer partner, Lindsey Megan under the watchful eye of Mrs. Margaret and her cascading arm fat. He also realized that the chances of Warren being able to see him through the seething mass of people were pretty slim and his confidence boosted a tiny bit.

All in all, it wasn't that bad until Bobby realized his pants were no longer loose on his body. He blushed and took a half-step back. "I'm..." more blushing, more shoving his hands into his pockets, "sorry. I-"Lucas stepped back into his personal space and pulled his hands from his pockets, intertwining his fingers. He smiled.

"Look, most of the guys here have erections," he inched closer, pushing his groin into Bobby's and letting go with one hand to place it in Bobby's back pocket and squeeze his ass. "It's no big deal. And if you don't think you wanna keep dancing, there's a bathroom over there," he pointed, "and I could help you out, if you'd like," he whispered into Bobby's ear, the heat tickling the skin. Bobby really hoped this wasn't where Lucas licked him or anything cause that might be weird.

Bobby blushed and his mouth dropped, unsure exactly what to do or say. "Uh, I..." He concentrated very hard on not dropping the temperature of the club, as he felt his body go cooler.

"Your hands are cold."

"I...." Lucas laughed and pulled.

"C'mon." And Bobby went, still concentrating on not turning the whole place into a giant ice cube tray as he was led to the bathroom and into one of the stalls.

Bobby emerged slightly in shock, and fighting the urge to wash his hands. Lucas walked behind him, his arm wrapped around Bobby's waist, a hand dipped into the back of his jeans. "How about the other drink?" Bobby must have nodded because Lucas steered him in the direction of the bar, ordering both another beer. "Wasn't that bad huh?"

"Uh...no, I mean..."

"You want to go somewhere? I have an apartment near by if you'd like; my car is parked right outside." Lucas was gradually dipping his fingers farther into the back of Bobby's boxers, ignoring the public setting and slowly tracing the top of his ass.

"I shouldn't. Have a friend here." Bobby was concentrating on not freezing the beer bottle or his hands to the bar because that would slightly destroy the 'average teenage hook-up' theme that had so far been the premise of the evening.

"Tell him you're leaving." Lucas drank the rest of his beer, dipping his fingers lower and lower, twisting on his stool so he was facing Bobby, using his free hand now to tip toe up Bobby's leg, aiming for his crotch. For some reason, Bobby had the feeling that 'unless you want to get your hand turned into a block of ice, don't try and grope me right now' was probably not the most tactful thing to say at the moment. He stepped off his stool, feeling Lucas's hands detangle.

"Just, uh, just a minute." He went over to Warren and tapped on his shoulder.

"Bobby! Hey, how's-"

"We need to go."

"What?"

"Now is a great time, thanks." He pulled at Warren's arm, dragging them out on the street. They power walked the next two blocks before Bobby slowed down and let go of Warren's arm, leaning against an office building, Warren shivering slightly in the late March night.

"Bobby." He kept his eyes focused on the street lamp. "There's frost on my sleeves and your hands are icing themselves to the bricks." Bobby looked down and stepped forward, hearing a slight crackle as he pulled away from the wall. "Are you ok? You look like you're in shock."

"Some strange guy just gave me a blow job in the bathroom. I didn't ask him to; he just did."

"Wow, Bobby... congrats?"

"I just... I... kinda wasn't expecting that."

"Oh. Good surprise?"

"Not really. The whole time, I kept thinking of John."

"Christ man..." Warren put his arm on Bobby's shoulders as they started walking to the car. "You got it bad."

"Yeah... I- I guess so."

"You used a condom right?"

"Yeah he had one." They climbed into the car and didn't talk for a while. "You think it was rude of me?"

"What?"

"Well, he, Lucas, the guy? He wanted me to go back to his house or whatever with him and I kinda ran away to drag you out and leave."

Warren laughed. "You probably would have iced him and if he was the kind of guy who gave you a blow job in a bathroom after talking to you for ten minutes, I doubt he's gonna think it was rude." Bobby nodded, feeling himself start to slowly unwind as they drove into the Mansion's garage. They sat there, Warren letting the car idle. "And it probably was safer for you to leave too. Strange guys and Mathew Shepard and all that."

"Yeah."

"John's lucky."

"What?" Warren patted his knee and started to unbutton his shirt, his wings peaking out.

"These get uncomfortable after a while; the shirts start to ride up and muss up the feathers." Bobby smiled and Warren shut off the engine. "So, in honor of loose sex and all that you only live once junk, want to split some Ben and Jerry's and an Arnold movie?"

Bobby shrugged. "K." Still a little confused about what had exactly transpired that night, he followed Warren to the kitchen. On the bright side, this did clarify more or less the 'into guys' agenda, and could be really great Truth or Dare fodder next time Marie asked him if he had even had oral sex in a gay bar.