A/N- This will probably be the last chappie until this weekend. I hope you enjoy! Wish me luck as a junior. Holy shit, I'm gonna be a junior.

Chapter 27

Bobby Comes Out

After about fifteen minutes of utter chaos, we found ourselves fully dressed downstairs in the living room.

Bobby's mom, brother and father sat on one couch. Rogue and Bobby sat on the other. Logan was leaning against the doorframe. John was leaning against the coffee table, and I, much to Mrs. Drake's delight, was sitting on the coffee table itself. John was clicking his lighter boredly.

"Honey, aren't you supposed to be at school?" Mrs. Drake asked her eldest son.

"Bobby, who is this guy?" Mr. Drake asked nervously, motioning towards Logan

"Mom, Dad, This is… Professor Logan." Bobby said with false brightness.

They stared at him, still skeptical.

"There's something I need to tell you." Bobby said nervously, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

"Is everything okay, honey?" Mrs. Drake asked, glancing at all of us.

"I'm a mutant." Bobby blurted out suddenly.

His family stared at him in a mixture of shock and disgust.

I wanted nothing more than to zap some sense into them.

"So… when did you first know… that you were a… um…" Mrs. Drake stuttered, clutching her cup of tea in shaking hands.

"A mutant?" John finished harshly, with a click of his lighter.

"Could you please stop that?" Mrs. Drake ground out, glancing at his lighter. John raised his eyebrows, as if to challenge her, but I nudged him and he grudgingly pocketed his beloved Zippo.

"You have to understand; we thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted." Mr. Drake tried to explain, not looking up from his hands.

"Bobby is gifted." Rogue insisted, coming to her boyfriend's defense.

"We know that. We just didn't realize that he was…" Mr. Drake started.

"We still love you, Bobby. It's just that… this mutant problem is very…" Mrs. Drake cut off her husband.

"What mutant problem?" Logan asked, clearly offended.

"Complicated." she finished.

There was an awkward silence.

"Excuse me, what exactly are you a professor of, Mr. Logan?" Mr. Drake asked curiously, eyeing my feral mentor with disdain.

"Art." Logan answered easily.

I almost lost it then and there, but I quickly turned my giggles into a coughing fit. John helped by patting my gently on the back.

The air was thick with tension.

"Well, you should see what Bobby can do." Rogue said, trying to lighten the mood.

The Drakes look at Bobby.

He reached across the table, and they flinched, pulling back.

Bobby smiled and gently touched his mother's teacup.

She turned it over and the frozen tea plopped onto the saucer.

"Bobby…" she whispered, staring at her child in disbelief.

"I can do a lot more than that. " Bobby said quietly, glancing at his mother.

Ronnie suddenly stood up and stormed up the stairs.

"Ronny!" Mrs. Drake called, trying in vain to call back her younger son.

We heard a door slam.

"Oh, God, this is all my fault." Mrs. Drake said, holding her head in her hands.

"Actually, they've discovered that the males are the ones who carry mutant genes and pass them on to the next generation, so actually… it's his fault." John explained, pointing to Mr. Drake with a smug grin.

Mr. Drake looked mortified.

"And you… you're all "gifted?" Mrs. Drake asked the rest of us uneasily.

Something beeped to my left as I saw Logan pull the disk out of his pocket.

"That's for me." he said, walking outside through the sliding glass door.

"Bobby, have you tried...not being a mutant?" Mrs. Drake asked hopefully after a few moments of silence.

Now I wanted to kill her.

"Mrs. Drake, have you tried not being a human?" I asked brightly, looking up at her.

"Excuse me?" she asked, shocked.

The sliding glass door opened and Logan stalked back in with a funny look on his face.

"We have to go, now." he said tersely

"Why? What's going on?" I asked, hopping off my perch and following him

"NOW." he repeated.

There was the familiar SNIKT as he extended his adamantium claws and opened the door.

The five of us stepped out onto the porch to the sound of multiple guns being cocked.

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