Post by Iceman on Jul 1, 2006 18:37:44 GMT -5
Bobby Drake sat at his desk in his room, his eyes flitting across line after line of a poem by Lewis Carroll that he had to memorize for a class.
'He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --'
Maybe it was the fact that half the poem was made-up words, but Bobby found his mind and his eyes wandering. He looked around the room, half in search of something to distract him from the work. His eyes fell on the empty bed across the room, amidst the empty half of the room. The bare surfaces of the desk and table were in stark contrast to the cluttered--though neatly and organizedly cluttered--surfaces on Bobby's side. The walls were white and bare, whereas Bobby's had a few posters of various rock bands and even a couple hot actresses and models, which Rogue hadn't seen yet and would probably make him take down. There were also pictures taped on the walls above his bed, in various places around the school or in town, of Bobby and friends hanging out and having fun.
There were two things people always commented on the first time they came into the room. The first was how blue Bobby's side was. Almost everything, from the blankets on his bed, to the posters, to the lampshade and the desk chair, were shades of blue. The second thing was the temperature--Bobby liked it cold. His friends knew to wear sweatshirts or jackets if they planned to stay long.
"And this will be your room..." A voice floated into Bobby's hearing: one of the Institute kids. "Not sure whether or not your room-mate is here, but...oh, hi Bobby." The kid had someone following him, a boy, about John's age, maybe a little older, certainly skinnier and less well dressed. The kid who had shown him up to the room grinned and left them to it.
The newcomer came fully into the room. He had a small, battered holdall slung over one shoulder and a look to him that shouted out loud that here was a streetwise savvy kid. He looked over at Bobby, his scrutinizing gaze taking in all the posters and the copious amounts of blue, and then he spoke. "I'm John."
When Bobby heard that he had a roommate as the student opened his door, he stood up quickly, a grin on his face. He looked his new roommate over as the other guy looked around the room. He looked like a tough guy, kind of like he came from a bad part of a town somewhere. But that didn't matter. Didn't mean he wasn't a good guy.
When he introduced himself as John, Bobby nodded and smiled at him, moving forward and holding out his hand to shake. "Bobby. It's about time they got me a roommate, I'm sick of staring at the empty space."
John's hand clasped briefly in Bobby's and he set his holdall down on the empty side of the room. "Kinda cold in here," he observed. "You one of these health nuts who likes the windows open even during the winter?" He set down a Zippo lighter with a shark face on the bedside table and then sat on the bed, bouncing up and down a little to test the springs. "Nice," he observed. "A mattress will make a nice change."
When John commented about it being cold, Bobby realized he was right. He was just so used to it, and it was a comfortable temperature for him, though he knew it was too cold for most everyone else. "Oh, yeah...My bad." He said off-handedly as he walked over to the temperature control box on the wall. He turned the temperature up to what he remembered his house always being set at--during the times his Mother caught that he'd turned it down and returned it to normal.
John's comment about the mattress made it clear that he had in fact lived on the streets--or at least somewhere without a bed. Bobby didn't know exactly how to respond, or if he even should, so he acted like he hadn't heard it. "I like the cold," He said as he turned back to face him. "It's right up my alley." (done)
John didn't reply straight away. He busied himself for a few moments putting away the pitiable small amount of stuff he had in his holdall: maybe no more than two changes of clothing. Other than the lighter, it seemed that he had nothing personal at all. Eventually he emptied out the bag and shoved it underneath the bed. He lay back on the pillow, his arms behind his head. "So you like it cold, huh? What's your mutation, you some sort of penguin?"
Bobby laughed at the penguin thing, and shook his head. "No, I, uh..." But before answering, he cut himself off as he caught sight of a twelve-pack of Coke on the floor by his desk. He always kept some in the room; it was nice to not have to keep them in a cooler.
He crouched down and pulled one from the plastic, looking to John. "You thirsty?"
"Yeah," said John and there was a definite wary tone in his voice. Here was a kid who wasn't used to getting something for nothing.
Bobby held the can in his hand for a second after John answered, before tossing it to him. When it got to him, the can would be cold as if he'd just pulled it from the fridge, with frost forming around the metal. Bobby had always liked showing people his powers rather than just telling them. Which was kind of showing off, yeah, so sue him.
He pulled another can out for himself and cooled it off before popping the tab open. "'Iceman' kind of grew on me when I came here, but I like 'The Human Penguin', too."
"Ironic," said John, with a faint expression that may actually have been a smile. "Iceman, huh? Well, you can call me Pyro." He reached for the Zippo and flicked it open. He cupped his hand around the flame and drew it away from the lighter and threw it casually from hand to hand. "Fire and ice, eh?"
Bobby rose one eyebrow as John tossed the flame back and forth like a baseball. He was impressed, as he often was with other's powers. But there was something else in the way he smiled at first, as his eyes followed the flame. He'd never given much thought to fire, in context with his water and ice abilities. The first thing that came to mind was that fire melted ice. But then again, water put out fire. 'If we ever fought, it'd pretty much be a stalemate,' he thought to himself. Which he liked the idea of. Besides, if they did get close, the whole 'fire and ice' thing was pretty cool. A grin spread across his face, and he nodded, impressed.
"Where are you from?" He asked as he set down his Coke and went over to sit on his own bed, across from John.
John shrugged. "I was born in Australia," he said, "but we shipped out to the States when I was three. Lived in a couple of places with my folks 'til we fell out when I was fourteen." He was still playing with the flame, almost lovingly. "How about you?"
Bobby shrugged as he leaned forward some and rested his elbows on his legs. "Born in Port Washington, moved to Boston in grade school, and been there ever since," He paused before adding, "'Till now", as he gestured at the room.
"Xavier's School for Gifted Young People. At least, that's what my parents think. They almost went into shock when Professor Xavier said I was gifted." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, remembering how his parents had practically argued with the Professor.
"Your folks amongst those who think that mutants are the scum of the earth, huh?" John closed his hand into a fist, killing the flame and cracking open his can of soda, which he drank quickly. "There's plenty of those out there. They hate us just for bein' different."
He still didn't know why he'd agreed to accept the Professor's invitation to stay here. Maybe because he was sick of sleeping rough. He'd been lured in with the thought of free food and drink and a bed to sleep in. He hadn't banked on actually being put in a room with someone his own age. John had never made friends easily and even now, in this one-to-one situation, he was rather shy. Shy wasn't the proper word to describe it, but it was the closest.
Bobby looked at John closely as he extinguished the fire. There seemed to be a lot of vigor behind his words about humans who didn't like mutants. Bobby felt the need to defend his parents, and he shook his head slightly. "No, they don't hate mutants-" He started, his eyes on the carpet as he thought. His father was Irish Catholic and his mother was Jewish, and because of their differences, Bobby's parents had never talked much about politics or theology. He didn't really know how they felt about it, but from the little they had said and the way they reacted to things on the news that involved mutants, Bobby knew they were uncomfortable with it. As far as he knew, they didn't have any friends who were mutants.
When Bobby had found out he could do things, unnatural things, like freezing things, he hadn't told his parents. He was a little afraid that if faced with it, his parents would turn out to be scared of mutant powers. He'd just searched out the Professor, who he saw on the news, and everything had been kept a secret.
"They just don't know how to take it. I mean, in a world where there are people with incredible powers, it'd be pretty scary to be without them." He tried to word his thoughts so he didn't sound like some kind of nerdy guy who sat around and thought about that kind of deep stuff...Though he had.
"I know I'd, like...become a blackbelt and learn jujitsu and...Fencing...and all the ways to kill somebody with a toothpick." He cracked a smile. He'd always wondered if that was actually true.
John stared up at the ceiling. "My folks couldn't handle me even before my powers manifested," he said. "They were too busy with their own problems." He'd called them, once, two months after he'd left home and they'd not wanted him to come back. The pain and rejection of that still stung.
"Tell me about this place," he said. "How long have you been here? What other people are there here? I only met the Professor and that kid who brought me up here."
"Well, I've only been here a few weeks, but I like it. It's nice to be somewhere where you're not hiding anything. Everybody's got something 'weird' about them, so nobody thinks twice about it."
Bobby moved back on his bed to lean against the wall, bringing his jeans-clad legs up to sit Indian-style on the blue comforter. "And everybody's pretty cool," he continued, making a mental note to stick with him until he seemed to find his place with the others. Until then, Bobby thought he'd introduce him to his friends. They'd probably get along well. "I'm hanging out with some friends later today, you should come with. Right now it's just me, Rogue, Kitty, and Pete." Bobby hoped John would come along. If he said yes, Bobby would explain who the others were.
John turned slightly so that his green eyes locked with Bobby's. "You mean that?" he said, and he sounded genuinely surprised. "You don't mind taking me with you? Thanks, I'd appreciate that."
Bobby grinned, and though he didn't say it aloud, his face said 'of course I mean it'. It didn't seem like a weird thing to Bobby; to offer to have a new guy hang out. Bobby had always hated being in a new place, without friends--like every first day of school, every year--so he never thought twice about making the adjustment a little easier on other new kids, by getting to know them and showing them around if they needed it. And he didn't do it with the mindset of just helping the new kid, being a nice guy. He just did it. "Yeah. I think you'll like them."
Bobby looked around his area, searching his picture. He pointed to one on his bedside table. It was of himself and a tall, extremely muscular guy playing pool. "That's Pete. He's Russian, but he's learned a lot of English. And there's Kitty and Rogue-" He gestured to a larger picture next to it, of a petite brunette and a taller girl who had dark hair with a streak of white at the front. The two girls seemed to be total opposites--the shorter girl in bright colors, while the taller one in all black, including black gloves that went all the way up her arm and met with the sleeves of her black T-shirt. But they both grinned at the camera with their arms around each other's shoulders. "Kitty's the one in blue." Bobby looked at the picture. That was a good shade of blue. They were all good shades.
John swiveled round so he could see the pictures better. All of the others in the photographs looked relaxed and happy, although he could see a slight look of forced happiness behind the taller girl's eyes. He felt a twinge of jealousy powered up by the slightest twinge of rage. But he kept it under control. "Closest thing I had to a friend in the last few years was Big Steve," he said. "He was the unofficial leader on the patch I worked." John didn't elaborate exactly what 'work' had entailed, but it was more likely than not something less than salubrious.
Again, Bobby’s new roommate said something that had the potential to make for an awkward situation. Even though Bobby had no idea what a 'patch' was, he understood the first part quite well. But he found what to say that would hopefully be encouraging. "Well, it'll be a lot easier to make friends here. You'd have to really try to not find friends." His eyes straying to a picture taped on his wall over his headboard, where he and Rogue were holding hands. He hadn't even known she'd taken it until she gave it to him yesterday. "Like Rogue. She--" Bobby paused, thinking how to word it. "She'd had a really hard time...with people." That was an understatement, but it summed up the problem. "And she hasn't been here long...And we're going out."
"Nice. Cozy." John didn't sound remotely sarcastic. He sat up properly and pushed his hands through his hair, which stood up in any number of angles. "Listen, hate to cut your romantic reminisces short, but is there like, a shower I could use?"
Bobby looked away from the picture, checking John's face for sarcasm in what he'd said. He seemed to just be teasing him, which a guy always opened himself to for bringing up his girlfriend around guy friends. He smirked. "Yeah--right and down at the end of the hall." Then, as if an after-thought, he added, "You do know it's communal showers, right?" He looked completely serious.
"I can handle it. I just haven't had a shower for a while. And I'm pretty confident not that many people will want to shower in the middle of the day."
John did not respond at all the way Bobby had expected. There was a flicker of something in Bobby's eyes as he looked at John--like he'd been testing John in some small way, and John had passed. The flicker quickly disappeared as something new came to Bobby's mind, but he wanted to wait until John was on his way out. "You're probably right." He said agreeably, flicking an ant off of his bed.
John got to his feet. "I guess there's towels there?" he asked. "And - uh - would it be rude to borrow some shower gel if you have any? I sort of didn't have a lot of stuff to bring with me." He seemed more embarrassed by asking to borrow something as simple as shower gel that the fact that the shower rooms were communal.
"Nah, it's fine." Bobby said accommodatingly as he stood and went to his desk. He opened a cabinet against the wall where he kept his shower stuff, and tossed John the shower gel. He then looked John over and saw that he wasn't carrying anything else. "You are going to wear swim trunks or something, right?"
Before John could respond, Bobby explained. "I mean, it's just; you wouldn't want the guys to start talking, thinking you're...gay..."
As most teenage guys did, Bobby handled the subject of other guys being gay carefully and with discomfort. After he said 'gay', he rushed to continue, his hands out in front of him, palms toward John. "I mean, it's cool if you are, it's just something you probably ought to--" As he spoke, he looked and sounded like he himself was starting to wonder about John's sexuality - and was a little on-edge about it. As he babbled, he was just filling time; he knew John would cut him off sooner or later. No straight teenage guy could possibly be comfortable being accused of being gay, and John had reacted coolly about the communal showers, but Bobby was banking on him not being able to keep from being a little bit alarmed that someone thought he might be gay. Hopefully just alarmed, not angry.
One of John's eyebrows quirked slightly and then he grinned. "Bobby," he said, in a serious tone, "I'll tell you this once and once only. I'm not gay. But I'm not going to start making a sap of myself just because a bunch of immature kids can't handle it. I'm gonna go stark naked in that shower and I'm gonna enjoy it, d'you hear what I'm sayin'?"
Pride. A very definite streak of pride.
By the time John was done talking, Bobby was laughing hard, his head thrown back and then tilting back up to look at John as he shook his head. He didn't see a way to pull his practical joke from the dumpster, now that John had pretty much stepped over the trap not just once, but twice. "I hear you." He said, then couldn't speak for all his laughter for a few more moments.
"You're good." He said with a nod, a wide grin still plastered on his face. He didn't come right out and admit that he'd been trying make John uncomfortable, but he figured he probably didn't have to. His laughter probably explained that much. "Welcome to Xavier's!" he said. It sounded like John had just passed some kind of initiation.
"You're good," he repeated, before seeming to remember something else. "Oh, and the guy's bathroom is down the end of the hall to the left. There's no signs, but you don't want to try the one to the right. It's the staff bathroom, and they get pissed if a student goes in there." Apparently, Bobby had been setting John up for more tricks than one. He patted him on the shoulder as he told him, before moving to his bed and sitting down on it.
John said nothing as he made his way out of the room and down the hall to get clean. He'd been fortunately enough to occasionally grab a shower in the offices of one of the hotels on his patch when he'd formed a bit of a flirty relationship with one of the reception girls who had a soft spot for a sob story. But this shower was going to be fantastic. He could luxuriate, linger, spend as long as he liked. He suddenly started to see the perks of this deal very clearly.
When John disappeared from sight, down the hall in the new direction Bobby had given him, Bobby started to laugh quietly. He leaned forward, his elbow on his knee and his hand covered his mouth. After a few moments, Bobby stood and walked to the open doorway, listening intently for the screams he knew would soon be coming, like piercing banshee wails, from the bathroom Bobby had just directed John to. He'd told John right the first time; the guy's bathroom was to the right. The bathroom down the hall and to the left was the girl's.
Strangely, there were no screams. In fact, everything was quiet for a good forty minutes, plenty of time to allow Bobby to return to his work memorizing the 'Jabberwocky'. After time passed, John returned to the room, his hair damp and wild. He tossed Bobby's shower gel back to him. "Thanks for that," he said. "Oh, and thanks for trying to make me look like some sort of dick. Fortunately for me, the young lady in the shower understood I was new and pointed me to the right room." He didn't sound particularly annoyed. In fact, the best word to use would be 'disappointed'.
When John came in, Bobby looked up, wanting to ask him how his shower was, and figure out why he'd never heard the screams he'd been expecting. But John spoke before he could, and Bobby realized John hadn't taken the joke well. He turned his swivel desk chair and looked at him, with a small smile, apologizing but trying to reason with him at the same time. "Aw--" He started to say 'come on', but thought better of it. "I'm sorry. It was just a joke."
"I don't like people laughing at me," said John, in the same dangerously mild tone. "Is that clear?"
Bobby understood John saying he didn't like people laughing at him--that was fair, a lot of people didn't. Bobby started to apologize again, but then John spoke with the harsh 'Is that clear?'
Bobby's smile faded, and he answered with his own underlying but clear tone of warning in his voice. "Hey. I apologized. Don't push it."
"Just so we understand each other."
When John refused to back down, Bobby had to suppress rolling his eyes. As always, he weighed the options before he acted. He could respond rudely, which would just escalate the argument and maybe ruin a possible friendship between them. So Bobby decided to give John the benefit of the doubt, and bit back his response--though it was hard. He'd been stamped as a difficult kid for years, because he talked back. And didn't apply himself. He wished his parents could see this guy, maybe then they'd have quit riding him about how he acted.
Bobby set the shower gel on his desk and nodded and shrugged, as if it were a small thing to him. "Alright, look. No pranks. Just mellow out." He then looked down at the poem on the desk. "Are you taking any kind of Literature here?"
"Sure," said John. "I was always good with words.” The moment seemed forgotten as John came over to see what he was studying. Weird guy: he blew hot and cold in an instant - but then who didn't in this place?
The two mulled over the poem--but not for long, before they turned to more interesting conversation. The more Bobby found out about John, the more it struck him how completely different they were. Fire and ice. But despite their differences, he liked his rough-around-the-edges new roommate. He had a feeling they could make a pretty good team.
'He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --'
Maybe it was the fact that half the poem was made-up words, but Bobby found his mind and his eyes wandering. He looked around the room, half in search of something to distract him from the work. His eyes fell on the empty bed across the room, amidst the empty half of the room. The bare surfaces of the desk and table were in stark contrast to the cluttered--though neatly and organizedly cluttered--surfaces on Bobby's side. The walls were white and bare, whereas Bobby's had a few posters of various rock bands and even a couple hot actresses and models, which Rogue hadn't seen yet and would probably make him take down. There were also pictures taped on the walls above his bed, in various places around the school or in town, of Bobby and friends hanging out and having fun.
There were two things people always commented on the first time they came into the room. The first was how blue Bobby's side was. Almost everything, from the blankets on his bed, to the posters, to the lampshade and the desk chair, were shades of blue. The second thing was the temperature--Bobby liked it cold. His friends knew to wear sweatshirts or jackets if they planned to stay long.
"And this will be your room..." A voice floated into Bobby's hearing: one of the Institute kids. "Not sure whether or not your room-mate is here, but...oh, hi Bobby." The kid had someone following him, a boy, about John's age, maybe a little older, certainly skinnier and less well dressed. The kid who had shown him up to the room grinned and left them to it.
The newcomer came fully into the room. He had a small, battered holdall slung over one shoulder and a look to him that shouted out loud that here was a streetwise savvy kid. He looked over at Bobby, his scrutinizing gaze taking in all the posters and the copious amounts of blue, and then he spoke. "I'm John."
When Bobby heard that he had a roommate as the student opened his door, he stood up quickly, a grin on his face. He looked his new roommate over as the other guy looked around the room. He looked like a tough guy, kind of like he came from a bad part of a town somewhere. But that didn't matter. Didn't mean he wasn't a good guy.
When he introduced himself as John, Bobby nodded and smiled at him, moving forward and holding out his hand to shake. "Bobby. It's about time they got me a roommate, I'm sick of staring at the empty space."
John's hand clasped briefly in Bobby's and he set his holdall down on the empty side of the room. "Kinda cold in here," he observed. "You one of these health nuts who likes the windows open even during the winter?" He set down a Zippo lighter with a shark face on the bedside table and then sat on the bed, bouncing up and down a little to test the springs. "Nice," he observed. "A mattress will make a nice change."
When John commented about it being cold, Bobby realized he was right. He was just so used to it, and it was a comfortable temperature for him, though he knew it was too cold for most everyone else. "Oh, yeah...My bad." He said off-handedly as he walked over to the temperature control box on the wall. He turned the temperature up to what he remembered his house always being set at--during the times his Mother caught that he'd turned it down and returned it to normal.
John's comment about the mattress made it clear that he had in fact lived on the streets--or at least somewhere without a bed. Bobby didn't know exactly how to respond, or if he even should, so he acted like he hadn't heard it. "I like the cold," He said as he turned back to face him. "It's right up my alley." (done)
John didn't reply straight away. He busied himself for a few moments putting away the pitiable small amount of stuff he had in his holdall: maybe no more than two changes of clothing. Other than the lighter, it seemed that he had nothing personal at all. Eventually he emptied out the bag and shoved it underneath the bed. He lay back on the pillow, his arms behind his head. "So you like it cold, huh? What's your mutation, you some sort of penguin?"
Bobby laughed at the penguin thing, and shook his head. "No, I, uh..." But before answering, he cut himself off as he caught sight of a twelve-pack of Coke on the floor by his desk. He always kept some in the room; it was nice to not have to keep them in a cooler.
He crouched down and pulled one from the plastic, looking to John. "You thirsty?"
"Yeah," said John and there was a definite wary tone in his voice. Here was a kid who wasn't used to getting something for nothing.
Bobby held the can in his hand for a second after John answered, before tossing it to him. When it got to him, the can would be cold as if he'd just pulled it from the fridge, with frost forming around the metal. Bobby had always liked showing people his powers rather than just telling them. Which was kind of showing off, yeah, so sue him.
He pulled another can out for himself and cooled it off before popping the tab open. "'Iceman' kind of grew on me when I came here, but I like 'The Human Penguin', too."
"Ironic," said John, with a faint expression that may actually have been a smile. "Iceman, huh? Well, you can call me Pyro." He reached for the Zippo and flicked it open. He cupped his hand around the flame and drew it away from the lighter and threw it casually from hand to hand. "Fire and ice, eh?"
Bobby rose one eyebrow as John tossed the flame back and forth like a baseball. He was impressed, as he often was with other's powers. But there was something else in the way he smiled at first, as his eyes followed the flame. He'd never given much thought to fire, in context with his water and ice abilities. The first thing that came to mind was that fire melted ice. But then again, water put out fire. 'If we ever fought, it'd pretty much be a stalemate,' he thought to himself. Which he liked the idea of. Besides, if they did get close, the whole 'fire and ice' thing was pretty cool. A grin spread across his face, and he nodded, impressed.
"Where are you from?" He asked as he set down his Coke and went over to sit on his own bed, across from John.
John shrugged. "I was born in Australia," he said, "but we shipped out to the States when I was three. Lived in a couple of places with my folks 'til we fell out when I was fourteen." He was still playing with the flame, almost lovingly. "How about you?"
Bobby shrugged as he leaned forward some and rested his elbows on his legs. "Born in Port Washington, moved to Boston in grade school, and been there ever since," He paused before adding, "'Till now", as he gestured at the room.
"Xavier's School for Gifted Young People. At least, that's what my parents think. They almost went into shock when Professor Xavier said I was gifted." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, remembering how his parents had practically argued with the Professor.
"Your folks amongst those who think that mutants are the scum of the earth, huh?" John closed his hand into a fist, killing the flame and cracking open his can of soda, which he drank quickly. "There's plenty of those out there. They hate us just for bein' different."
He still didn't know why he'd agreed to accept the Professor's invitation to stay here. Maybe because he was sick of sleeping rough. He'd been lured in with the thought of free food and drink and a bed to sleep in. He hadn't banked on actually being put in a room with someone his own age. John had never made friends easily and even now, in this one-to-one situation, he was rather shy. Shy wasn't the proper word to describe it, but it was the closest.
Bobby looked at John closely as he extinguished the fire. There seemed to be a lot of vigor behind his words about humans who didn't like mutants. Bobby felt the need to defend his parents, and he shook his head slightly. "No, they don't hate mutants-" He started, his eyes on the carpet as he thought. His father was Irish Catholic and his mother was Jewish, and because of their differences, Bobby's parents had never talked much about politics or theology. He didn't really know how they felt about it, but from the little they had said and the way they reacted to things on the news that involved mutants, Bobby knew they were uncomfortable with it. As far as he knew, they didn't have any friends who were mutants.
When Bobby had found out he could do things, unnatural things, like freezing things, he hadn't told his parents. He was a little afraid that if faced with it, his parents would turn out to be scared of mutant powers. He'd just searched out the Professor, who he saw on the news, and everything had been kept a secret.
"They just don't know how to take it. I mean, in a world where there are people with incredible powers, it'd be pretty scary to be without them." He tried to word his thoughts so he didn't sound like some kind of nerdy guy who sat around and thought about that kind of deep stuff...Though he had.
"I know I'd, like...become a blackbelt and learn jujitsu and...Fencing...and all the ways to kill somebody with a toothpick." He cracked a smile. He'd always wondered if that was actually true.
John stared up at the ceiling. "My folks couldn't handle me even before my powers manifested," he said. "They were too busy with their own problems." He'd called them, once, two months after he'd left home and they'd not wanted him to come back. The pain and rejection of that still stung.
"Tell me about this place," he said. "How long have you been here? What other people are there here? I only met the Professor and that kid who brought me up here."
"Well, I've only been here a few weeks, but I like it. It's nice to be somewhere where you're not hiding anything. Everybody's got something 'weird' about them, so nobody thinks twice about it."
Bobby moved back on his bed to lean against the wall, bringing his jeans-clad legs up to sit Indian-style on the blue comforter. "And everybody's pretty cool," he continued, making a mental note to stick with him until he seemed to find his place with the others. Until then, Bobby thought he'd introduce him to his friends. They'd probably get along well. "I'm hanging out with some friends later today, you should come with. Right now it's just me, Rogue, Kitty, and Pete." Bobby hoped John would come along. If he said yes, Bobby would explain who the others were.
John turned slightly so that his green eyes locked with Bobby's. "You mean that?" he said, and he sounded genuinely surprised. "You don't mind taking me with you? Thanks, I'd appreciate that."
Bobby grinned, and though he didn't say it aloud, his face said 'of course I mean it'. It didn't seem like a weird thing to Bobby; to offer to have a new guy hang out. Bobby had always hated being in a new place, without friends--like every first day of school, every year--so he never thought twice about making the adjustment a little easier on other new kids, by getting to know them and showing them around if they needed it. And he didn't do it with the mindset of just helping the new kid, being a nice guy. He just did it. "Yeah. I think you'll like them."
Bobby looked around his area, searching his picture. He pointed to one on his bedside table. It was of himself and a tall, extremely muscular guy playing pool. "That's Pete. He's Russian, but he's learned a lot of English. And there's Kitty and Rogue-" He gestured to a larger picture next to it, of a petite brunette and a taller girl who had dark hair with a streak of white at the front. The two girls seemed to be total opposites--the shorter girl in bright colors, while the taller one in all black, including black gloves that went all the way up her arm and met with the sleeves of her black T-shirt. But they both grinned at the camera with their arms around each other's shoulders. "Kitty's the one in blue." Bobby looked at the picture. That was a good shade of blue. They were all good shades.
John swiveled round so he could see the pictures better. All of the others in the photographs looked relaxed and happy, although he could see a slight look of forced happiness behind the taller girl's eyes. He felt a twinge of jealousy powered up by the slightest twinge of rage. But he kept it under control. "Closest thing I had to a friend in the last few years was Big Steve," he said. "He was the unofficial leader on the patch I worked." John didn't elaborate exactly what 'work' had entailed, but it was more likely than not something less than salubrious.
Again, Bobby’s new roommate said something that had the potential to make for an awkward situation. Even though Bobby had no idea what a 'patch' was, he understood the first part quite well. But he found what to say that would hopefully be encouraging. "Well, it'll be a lot easier to make friends here. You'd have to really try to not find friends." His eyes straying to a picture taped on his wall over his headboard, where he and Rogue were holding hands. He hadn't even known she'd taken it until she gave it to him yesterday. "Like Rogue. She--" Bobby paused, thinking how to word it. "She'd had a really hard time...with people." That was an understatement, but it summed up the problem. "And she hasn't been here long...And we're going out."
"Nice. Cozy." John didn't sound remotely sarcastic. He sat up properly and pushed his hands through his hair, which stood up in any number of angles. "Listen, hate to cut your romantic reminisces short, but is there like, a shower I could use?"
Bobby looked away from the picture, checking John's face for sarcasm in what he'd said. He seemed to just be teasing him, which a guy always opened himself to for bringing up his girlfriend around guy friends. He smirked. "Yeah--right and down at the end of the hall." Then, as if an after-thought, he added, "You do know it's communal showers, right?" He looked completely serious.
"I can handle it. I just haven't had a shower for a while. And I'm pretty confident not that many people will want to shower in the middle of the day."
John did not respond at all the way Bobby had expected. There was a flicker of something in Bobby's eyes as he looked at John--like he'd been testing John in some small way, and John had passed. The flicker quickly disappeared as something new came to Bobby's mind, but he wanted to wait until John was on his way out. "You're probably right." He said agreeably, flicking an ant off of his bed.
John got to his feet. "I guess there's towels there?" he asked. "And - uh - would it be rude to borrow some shower gel if you have any? I sort of didn't have a lot of stuff to bring with me." He seemed more embarrassed by asking to borrow something as simple as shower gel that the fact that the shower rooms were communal.
"Nah, it's fine." Bobby said accommodatingly as he stood and went to his desk. He opened a cabinet against the wall where he kept his shower stuff, and tossed John the shower gel. He then looked John over and saw that he wasn't carrying anything else. "You are going to wear swim trunks or something, right?"
Before John could respond, Bobby explained. "I mean, it's just; you wouldn't want the guys to start talking, thinking you're...gay..."
As most teenage guys did, Bobby handled the subject of other guys being gay carefully and with discomfort. After he said 'gay', he rushed to continue, his hands out in front of him, palms toward John. "I mean, it's cool if you are, it's just something you probably ought to--" As he spoke, he looked and sounded like he himself was starting to wonder about John's sexuality - and was a little on-edge about it. As he babbled, he was just filling time; he knew John would cut him off sooner or later. No straight teenage guy could possibly be comfortable being accused of being gay, and John had reacted coolly about the communal showers, but Bobby was banking on him not being able to keep from being a little bit alarmed that someone thought he might be gay. Hopefully just alarmed, not angry.
One of John's eyebrows quirked slightly and then he grinned. "Bobby," he said, in a serious tone, "I'll tell you this once and once only. I'm not gay. But I'm not going to start making a sap of myself just because a bunch of immature kids can't handle it. I'm gonna go stark naked in that shower and I'm gonna enjoy it, d'you hear what I'm sayin'?"
Pride. A very definite streak of pride.
By the time John was done talking, Bobby was laughing hard, his head thrown back and then tilting back up to look at John as he shook his head. He didn't see a way to pull his practical joke from the dumpster, now that John had pretty much stepped over the trap not just once, but twice. "I hear you." He said, then couldn't speak for all his laughter for a few more moments.
"You're good." He said with a nod, a wide grin still plastered on his face. He didn't come right out and admit that he'd been trying make John uncomfortable, but he figured he probably didn't have to. His laughter probably explained that much. "Welcome to Xavier's!" he said. It sounded like John had just passed some kind of initiation.
"You're good," he repeated, before seeming to remember something else. "Oh, and the guy's bathroom is down the end of the hall to the left. There's no signs, but you don't want to try the one to the right. It's the staff bathroom, and they get pissed if a student goes in there." Apparently, Bobby had been setting John up for more tricks than one. He patted him on the shoulder as he told him, before moving to his bed and sitting down on it.
John said nothing as he made his way out of the room and down the hall to get clean. He'd been fortunately enough to occasionally grab a shower in the offices of one of the hotels on his patch when he'd formed a bit of a flirty relationship with one of the reception girls who had a soft spot for a sob story. But this shower was going to be fantastic. He could luxuriate, linger, spend as long as he liked. He suddenly started to see the perks of this deal very clearly.
When John disappeared from sight, down the hall in the new direction Bobby had given him, Bobby started to laugh quietly. He leaned forward, his elbow on his knee and his hand covered his mouth. After a few moments, Bobby stood and walked to the open doorway, listening intently for the screams he knew would soon be coming, like piercing banshee wails, from the bathroom Bobby had just directed John to. He'd told John right the first time; the guy's bathroom was to the right. The bathroom down the hall and to the left was the girl's.
Strangely, there were no screams. In fact, everything was quiet for a good forty minutes, plenty of time to allow Bobby to return to his work memorizing the 'Jabberwocky'. After time passed, John returned to the room, his hair damp and wild. He tossed Bobby's shower gel back to him. "Thanks for that," he said. "Oh, and thanks for trying to make me look like some sort of dick. Fortunately for me, the young lady in the shower understood I was new and pointed me to the right room." He didn't sound particularly annoyed. In fact, the best word to use would be 'disappointed'.
When John came in, Bobby looked up, wanting to ask him how his shower was, and figure out why he'd never heard the screams he'd been expecting. But John spoke before he could, and Bobby realized John hadn't taken the joke well. He turned his swivel desk chair and looked at him, with a small smile, apologizing but trying to reason with him at the same time. "Aw--" He started to say 'come on', but thought better of it. "I'm sorry. It was just a joke."
"I don't like people laughing at me," said John, in the same dangerously mild tone. "Is that clear?"
Bobby understood John saying he didn't like people laughing at him--that was fair, a lot of people didn't. Bobby started to apologize again, but then John spoke with the harsh 'Is that clear?'
Bobby's smile faded, and he answered with his own underlying but clear tone of warning in his voice. "Hey. I apologized. Don't push it."
"Just so we understand each other."
When John refused to back down, Bobby had to suppress rolling his eyes. As always, he weighed the options before he acted. He could respond rudely, which would just escalate the argument and maybe ruin a possible friendship between them. So Bobby decided to give John the benefit of the doubt, and bit back his response--though it was hard. He'd been stamped as a difficult kid for years, because he talked back. And didn't apply himself. He wished his parents could see this guy, maybe then they'd have quit riding him about how he acted.
Bobby set the shower gel on his desk and nodded and shrugged, as if it were a small thing to him. "Alright, look. No pranks. Just mellow out." He then looked down at the poem on the desk. "Are you taking any kind of Literature here?"
"Sure," said John. "I was always good with words.” The moment seemed forgotten as John came over to see what he was studying. Weird guy: he blew hot and cold in an instant - but then who didn't in this place?
The two mulled over the poem--but not for long, before they turned to more interesting conversation. The more Bobby found out about John, the more it struck him how completely different they were. Fire and ice. But despite their differences, he liked his rough-around-the-edges new roommate. He had a feeling they could make a pretty good team.
