Chapter Two! :3 Reading, reviewing, ccing, hell even flaming would be appreciated XD So long as people actually notice this :p
Thom and half the story belongs to me, Chris and the other half belong to TwilightXari (we originally rpd this, and this is my way of writing it all out. So, it's not the same as the rp itself, but still), and Hank, Professor X., and the mansion belong to Marvel, NOT us. We just add cute gaiboimutants and rp them heartily :3
Thom opened his eyes to find that he wasn't in his bed at the orphanage, in a forest under a tree, in a stranger's basement hidden away, or even in an alleyway in a city like he unconsciously expected. Instead he found himself looking around (he immediately sat up upon awakening, from old ground-in habit) a very clean infirmary room. What surprised him further was the fact that there was a person-a winged person-next to the bed in which he was sitting. Said person was looking back at him, though not quite so gawky as Thom was, a mildly surprised yet bored expression on his face and open book in his hand. They simply stared at each other, neither not sure quite what to say.
Finally, Thom's friendly nature kicked surprise's butt off the pedestal and did a nice dance up there. Thom himself smiled at the handsome stranger, his best and most pretty smile he could. "Hi. I'm Thom, who're you?" The stranger marked his place in the book and put it down, leaning forward a bit, casually.
"Chris Scott." He didn't seem particularly friendly, this Chris Scott, but he was the first person to not make some kind of negative reaction to Thom's odd extremities, so the blond was determined to make friends. Chris didn't seem to care, which was better than it could have been.
"Could you please tell me where I am?" Thom doubled the power of his bright smile, hoping to penetrate this person's cloudy disposition. It was nearly impossible to tell whether it was working or not.
"Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. AKA Mutant High."
"Oh, good, I was aiming for that! Er, my full name's Thom Reed, since if it's okay I'd like to be staying here."
"Definitely. The Professor always opens his home to mutants in need." That almost sounded scripted.
"That almost sounded scripted," Thom said with a giggle.
"It kinda was." Thom giggled again. The corner of Chris Scott's mouth twitched a bit in a half-ghost of a half-smile, making Thom feel much better.
"You're funny." The tawny-feathered-wings guy blinked, looking vaguely surprised.
"Oookay. I better get Hank and tell him you're up." He got up, ruffled his feathers a little to straighten them, and went to a little office to the side. Thom felt vaguely envious of the beautiful, soft, not-metal-and-razor-sharp wings on the taller man's lean back, but quickly stuffed down that feeling. It wouldn't do to envy every single person who didn't have metal, razor-sharp feathered wings for wings…
Thom's thoughts were very quickly and thoroughly interrupted by the emergence of someone from the office into which Chris had been poking his handsome head. It was a man with…blue fur covering his body…claws…pearly white fangs…Wow.
Thom quickly shook his head a bit and smiled politely, chastising himself for gawking. "Hello." The furry blue man in a white lab coat smiled back, seeming very friendly.
"Hello, there. How are you feeling?" He had this incredibly polite, nice, intelligent, ever so generally awesome way of him. Thom liked him already.
"Tired, sore, hungry, filthy." He probably looked it too. "But better than yesterday."
"Ah, that's good. I'm so sorry you had to travel in such a way to get here. Had you not moved so fast, we would have sent someone to pick you up."
"…" Thom had the look of shock on his face, but quickly pressed the feeling down. "Oh well," he squeaked, "I'm here now." The nice doctor patted him on the shoulder. He quickly leaned from the touch. "Er, thank you very much…um…"
"Oh, excuse me. I'm Doctor Henry McCoy, but everyone calls me Hank."
"Hank. Nice to meet you. I'm Thom Reed." Thom shook the extended hand-paw?-, sincerely glad to meet him. Good people were rare, and Thom was ecstatic to realize that they were all cloistered in that huge house. Lucky him!
"I'm sure you'd like to freshen up before we get to the business of settling you in. Here's some clothing, and you can use the showers down the hall, past the danger room, and around the corner. Then you can have a good meal in the kitchen. Chris will show you around. After this, I'd appreciate it if you return here when you are finished." Hank handed Thom a simple pair of jeans that were about his size, a tee-shirt, socks, and some sneakers.
Thom got to take a shower, wear clean clothes (that luckily fit him well enough, though he had to wear a belt for the pants), and eat heartily. He felt so much better, though would need a full, good night's sleep to be one hundred percent revived. After the personal maintenance, he returned to the infirmary with the tall, dark, and handsome Chris Scott.
"Ah, you seem to be feeling better," said Hank. "Now, Thomas, if you don't mind, I'd like to start a medical record for you. Take off your shoes and step on the scale, please." Thom hesitated. "Is something wrong?"
"I'll break it…"
"I assure you, this scale is made to handle a lot," Hank said. Thom slowly took off the sneakers and tentatively stepped onto the scale. It held. Hank massed him. "360lb. That's quite a lot for someone of your thin build and bone structure." Thom blushed, cheeks glowing. "…Are you metal anywhere else?"
"Yeah, I have metal bones…," Thom said quietly, obviously uncomfortable for the attention. Chris was leaning against a wall nearby in case he was needed, and he was curious.
"How fascinating." Hank jotted down a few things on his clipboard. "You may step down and stand with your back against this measuring strip on the wall, if you please."
Hank measured him (5'5½"), took his blood pressure, checked his eyes and ears and throat, the usual checkup things. Thom endured it silently, uncomfortable but trusting. Hank did all he could to get it over with quickly.
"There, that's all. You're in the pique of health, though you're a bit thinner than what's healthy for your height and build. Professor Xavier is waiting for you in his office. Christopher will show you the way. I can't say I wish we'll meet again often, since that would include you gaining injury, but I'm glad we met and hope to see you around socially, dear boy."
"Yeah, I'm really glad to meet you too." Thom smiled as he tied his shoes. "Though I don't think I'll gain many injuries. I don't do any sports or anything."
"Ah. Well, have a nice day." Hank returned to his office.
"Bye and thanks!" Thom finished with his shoes and followed Chris out and in the direction of Professor Xavier's office to meet Professor Xavier himself.
"So what do you like to do?" said Chris along the way.
"Well, I'm not particularly sure. I like making my own clothes…and cooking. I'm a pretty good cook."
"Cool." Chris said nothing more.
"…So what do you like to do?" said Thom, wanting Chris to not stop talking.
"Read, write poetry."
"Oh, that's awesome! Poetry's really cool!"
"I guess."
They arrived at Professor Xavier's office and were let in before either could knock, not that Chris seemed like he was going to.