Stupid Teenagers

Posted on Wed Jan 24th, 2024 @ 11:42am by Scott Summers & Bobby Drake & Jean Grey & Hank McCoy

Mission: Episode 0: X Lang Syne
Location: X-Mansion | Kitchen
Timeline: 1985

Jean was busy making dinner, even though she was much improved since her early days of burning grilled cheese sandwiches, she still needed to follow a recipe and to mise en place everything before the stove was even turned on. This requirement caused the kitchen countertops to be covered in bowls and cups with chopped ingredients and measured spices, making the space cluttered but colorful. A handful of vegetables washed themselves in the sink while Jean stood over a cutting board and meticulously sliced a carrot into thin diagonal sticks.

Without looking up she was able to recognize Hank’s familiar presence, he always felt organized and orderly to Jean.
“Hey Hank, would you hand me…” She stopped mid sentence, something was wrong.

Jean looked up from her cutting to see a blue, fur-covered beast standing in front of her. She would have screamed had she not known from his mental signature that this was Hank, instead she merely dropped her knife and gasped, the vegetables falling into the sink with a dramatic thud behind her.

“Hank! What happened?!” Her green eyes went wide as she continued to stare at him.

He could always count on Jean to know him, no matter what. It felt safe, somehow, to know that she- as well as the professor- would always know who he was, even if he looked different. “It appears,” he said with a sad smile, “that I have made a grave miscalculation and have activated a dormant gene.”

Bobby followed his nose into the kitchen. Even though nothing was actually cooking yet, he could still smell the various scents of prepped ingredients that always preceded food. Sometimes Jean even pretended not to notice him picking at whatever was left unattended. When he laid eyes on Hank, though, the blue fur made him jump out of his skin.

"Ahhhhh!" Bobby shrieked at high C. "What in the mother of fuck is that?! Jean, look out! There's a monster behind you!" The air began blue-shifting around his fists as he began charging for a cold snap.

“Bobby! No!” Jean defensively snapped “It’s Hank.”

Jean stepped away from the counter and made her way over to Hank. She no longer seemed alarmed but she was still puzzled by what he was saying. “Is that a thing? Activating dormant genes?” Jean looked him over for a moment before taking the liberty of picking up one of his large hands, now clawed and well, blue. “Is it permanent?”

He didn’t have to answer her question, the avalanche of emotions tumbling from him told Jean everything. “Oh Hank.” She frowned a little from the realization. “Are you okay?”

At that point, Scott came rushing into the kitchen. "Jean! What's wrong?!" His hand hovered near the frames to his glasses, ready to rip. Evidently he had mistaken Bobby's scream for Jean's.

"The monster ate Hank!" Bobby shouted and put up an ice wall between Hank and the rest of them.

"What?!" Scott hasn't gotten a good look at anything other than a blur. "Bobby, get that out of here. You almost hit Jean."

"That monster almost ate Jean!" Bobby protested. "Weren't you listening? It already got Hank!"

“No,” groaned Hank miserably. “The monster is Hank.”

“Bobby, weren’t you listening? I said that is Hank.” Jean usually had more patience for Bobby and his knee jerk responses but this was different, this was one of their classmates.

With a splaying of her fingers, hairline cracks appeared throughout the ice wall before the whole thing unceremoniously shattered into small pieces. With a sweep of Jean’s hand the pile of ice floated and then escorted itself out of the kitchen, telekinesis made her feel like Mary Poppins sometimes.

“You’re Hank, not a monster.” Jean embraced him in an attempt to comfort him. ~*, ‘I still know it’s you, at least in the places that matter.’ *~

Hank squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill out as he gently returned Jean’s hug. “Thank you, Jean,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. She probably knew exactly how much he needed to hear it and, at least coming from Jean, he knew it was the truth.

While Bobby stood there, dumbstruck and pointing one finger at Hank and another at Jean while watching his ice barrier get removed from the room, Scott took charge.

"Hank, before you tell us what happened, are you in any pain and does the Professor know yet?" His face hardened into stony, stoic expression that started analyzing all the angles.

Hank released Jean from the hug before answering. “The answers to those questions are no and yes, respectively,” he replied. “The professor was the first person I told. Almost at once, in fact. He suggested I consult Connor Bruin on Muir Island. According to Connor, I seem to have activated a dormant gene. And,” he added sadly. “There does not seem to be a way to deactivate it safely.”

"Connor? Oh." Scott realized his hand was still at the ready near his temple and lowered it to his side. There were myriad questions from Scott but many of them answered themselves as soon as he thought of them. Why Connor? Are you sure? What now? There wasn't much to say.

Bobby plucked one of Hank's blue hairs and pulled it taut in front of his eyes. "Wow..." he whispered in shock and awe. After a moment, he flung it into the air. "So, Hank, you hungry?"

Scott was stoic and rational in his questions and answers and Bobby offered his solution to everything, distraction. But Jean felt Hank’s emotional response to this, how he was almost brought to tears when faced with the permanence of his accident, to be labeled as a monster rather than a man. In the blink of an eye, Hank’s life had changed forever.

“Is there anything we can do for you, Hank?” Jean wasn’t sure what they could do, so she defaulted to her standard response, she would listen.

"There's only one thing to do in a time like this," Bobby said as he headed for one of the cabinets. It took a moment while he unpacked everything from the upper shelf to reveal a paper bag. After he reverently unwrapped it, he presented a bottle of Johnnie Walker like it was liquid gold. "You get the first shot, Hank. On me!"

Though no one could see Scott roll his eyes, the depth of his sigh and angle his neck swayed his chin into his shoulder all but confirmed the action. "Bobby... get that out of here."

"Or what?" Bobby's mouth twisted into a mischievous half grin. "You'll tattle on me? You can be the designated driver. Hank needs some celebratory relief!"

"Designated driver?" Scott repeated incredulously. "We live here, Bobby. We're not driving anywhere."

Bobby patted Scott on the chest on his way to the counter. "Then you got the night off, champ. As for the rest of us..." He trailed off as his fingers fumbled with the foil around the neck of the bottle. "Damn thing's always too wrapped too tight..."

“Thank you, Bobby,” replied Hank with a wry smile, “but I don’t think getting drunk is a very good idea. Just knowing that I have your support is enough for me.”

The top finally came off. "Woohoo!" Bobby shouted, not hearing Hank. "Come on, bud! Drink up! I don't mind sippin' after you." It was damn near a compliment, given the circumstances. "'Pass de dutchie 'pon de left hand side! Pass de dutchie 'pon de left hand side! It a go bun! Gimme de music, make me jump 'n prance!'"

Jean folded her arms across her chest and glanced at each of them, a jester, a scholar, and a paragon. There were times when all three couldn’t have been any more diametrically opposite from each other. But what did that make her?

With a single step she made her way over to the counter and took the bottle from Bobby. Jean glanced at Scott and Hank one last time before she shrugged her shoulders. Jean placed the bottle to her lips and took one long sip. Her whole body stiffened and her face scrunched up tightly as she forced herself to swallow the burning, foul liquid. Jean held that tense position until the horrible taste faded. She opened her eyes and blew out a deep breath before she unceremoniously returned the bottle to the counter and took a step back.

"Hell yeah!" Bobby grabbed the bottle next and took a hard swig that made the bottle pop when it came off his mouth. "WOOOO!!!" He paused his gasping enough to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. "It burns soooo good!"

Scott and Hank exchanged an incredulous look between one another. What was happening? Were they really passing a bottle of bottom shelf blended scotch whiskey around the kitchen? But Bobby gave Scott a nudge with the bottle.

"Really?" Scott looked from Bobby to Jean, then Hank, and then Jean again. The effects of were already noticeable in her eyes. One drink wasn't enough to be impaired. "Alright. Fine. But just one and then you put it away." Scott slowly raised the bottle to his mouth and hesitated when he got a whiff. It smelled truly foul. He resisted the urge to hold his nose that his flaring nostrils gave him and took a sip.

"Yeah, Scott, get some!" Bobby cheered and slugged Scott in the arm.

Between the sticky, burning liquid and Bobby's gesture, Scott nearly dropped the bottle. He pulled it away from his lips with sweet relief. "Yeah... swell..." he said sarcastically as his face blanched. The bottle passed to Hank, floating before in Scott's hand while he refused to make eye contact. "All yours."

Hank sighed heavily, but took the bottle all the same. “If you weren’t all my friends…” he muttered. First, he sniffed the bottle. It smelled like rubbing alcohol. His nose wrinkled, but he wasn’t going to let the others get one up on him. So, he put the bottle to his lips and took a swig.

Unlike the others, though, he swished it around his mouth for a few seconds before he swallowed. “Hm,” he said thoughtfully. “It tastes like spicy water. Heavy on the spice. Absolutely disgusting,” he added, setting the bottle on the counter.

"You're not supposed to taste it!" Bobby teased. "You're supposed to chug it!" And he did just that with shameless abandon.

"Come on, Bobby!" Scott protested. "We agreed, just one round and it goes away."

"But I am putting it away!" Bobby said from the corner of his mouth as he took a third chug. "Jean gets it!" And then he handed the bottle back to her with full expectation she would take another swig.

Jean laughed, no, she giggled from Hank’s appraisal of the whisky. “At least your sense of taste hasn’t changed.” Her stomach burned and her cheeks felt hot from the alcohol, maybe they shouldn’t have done this on an empty stomach. Bobby pushed the bottle toward her and it made her giggles stop.

“Oh I don’t know Bobby, we really shouldn’t.” Jean glanced over at an irritated Scott, her cheeks had flushed pink already. “We all agreed on just one.” She had dared to indulge as an act of solidarity, to remind them that they were better together. “Plus Hank doesn’t want to either, tonight is more about what he wants.”

Hank blinked, surprised. “It… it is?” he asked.

Bobby latched onto Hank's confusion and tried to leverage it for greater peer pressure. "Hank is right. Tonight is about forgetting troubles and having fun." He sipped again and then extended the bottle to the middle of the group. "Am I the only one here down for that?"

After a brief hesitation, Hank reached out and grabbed the bottle, quickly taking a swig. “It really is disgusting,” he said with a laugh, handing the bottle to Jean.

“Yes, we are…” Jean paused for a moment as she continued to think about the best way to spin this moment into a celebratory one. “Because you have discovered a way to activate a dormant gene, much like Jonas Salk or John Paul Stapp, you fearlessly tested it on yourself. Maybe your dormant gene is undesirable, but the same can’t be said for all mutations. Activation of a dormant gene might better or even save someone’s life.” She took the bottle from Hank and took another sip, her reaction to it was a little less severe this time.

“To Hank’s achievement?” Jean asked while offering the bottle to Scott again, a look of pleading compliance in her green eyes.

"Uh... right!" Scott turned his uncertainty to joviality at Jean's insistence. "To Hank!" He held his breath and took another drink. It wasn't so bad the second time but it still made his stomach turn. Why was Bobby so excited over this piss water?

"Now it's a party!" Bobby shouted and took another drink after Scott. "To motherfucking Hank and his motherfucking genius sciencetific brain! TO KNOWLEDGE!" He took another sip, shouted, "Woo!" and then handed the bottle off to the group for another round.

“Bobby, don’t make yourself sick.” Jean mothered him before taking another, longer sip from the bottle. She only scrunched her nose this time as she drank, she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or bad thing that it was getting easier to drink. “But I guess I should get back to finishing dinner.”

Jean made her way back to the other side of the kitchen where all of dinner remained half finished. She put her hands on her hips and evaluated what still needed to be done. “Is it hot in here? Why is it so hot in here?”

~MUST BE DAT ASS~ Scott thought far too loudly inside his own mind. ~TOTAL SMOKESHOW~

"Everywhere is hot until I get used to this fur," replied Hank, checking the level in the bottle. "Not much left," he told Scott, taking a large swig. "Want the rest?" He held out the bottle.

"Huh?" Scott wasn't listening, lost as he was inside his inner monologue. "Oh. Uh. Sure?" He took the bottle, finished it off, and then immediately regretted it. "Whoa!" A large belch came right back up. "That burned..." Hiccup. "... more than when..." Hiccup. "... going down!"

Bobby started snickering. "Haha! You said 'going down'!"

"Shtut up, Bobby!" Scott's speech began to slur. "Youknowwhatitreallymeant..."

"Sure do!" Bobby started jerking his hand next to his mouth while pushing his tongue against the opposite cheek.

"Youthinkyouresofunny!" Scott grabbed the counter to keep the room from dipping. "Wellyourenot!"

"Be nice, and don't yell." Jean furrowed her brow "All of you are so loud right now." She vaguely gestured to the air around them indicating it was their thoughts not their words that had become harder to dampen. Jean went back to cutting carrots, her thoughts hyper focused on the act until she recalled Hank's comments. She stopped cutting and looked up at him. "Yeah, what are you going to do in the summer? How long will it take you to dry off after you shower?" Jean's inhibitions had been dropped enough that she was willing to openly express or discuss any thought that came to her mind.

Hank laughed mirthlessly. “Three hours,” he replied. “Go ahead; ask me how I know.”

"You? I thought she meant me!" Bobby said.

"Weallknowhowlongyoutakeintheshower," Scott cut in. "Hourandfiveminutes...fivetoscrubandanhourtobeatyourmeat."

Bobby wasn't listening to anybody before the bottle came out and it wasn't any better now. "I don't know what you just said but I'm sure it was lame." He looked at Hank. "Hank, tell Scott how lame he is."

“Nobody is lame, Bobby,” Hank pointed out, vaguely noticing that his tongue felt thick. “Now are we gonna help Jean cook ‘r what?”

"YeahBobbyseeImnotlame!" Scott said. "IjusthavetobeontopofeverythingallthetimeandIdontalwaysknowwhattodoaboutitok?"

"Oh my god, you guys always do this!" Jean very dramatically rolled her head back in exasperation "Stop being mean to each other." She mainly looked at Bobby but also at the slightly swaying Scott. "Hank's right, help me make dinner." Jean grabbed Bobby by the shirt and directed him towards the cutting board. "Finish cutting these carrots and don't cut yourself." She looked over at Hank. "Can you please make rice?"

Finally she looked over at the slurring Scott "You should probably sit down." Jean stepped out of the main cooking area and took him by the arm and directed him to a spot against the wall. "Do you need some water?"

"Yeahbabygimmeabigwetone..." Scott went in for a kiss, eventually landing on Jean's lips but not before finding her nose first. "DidIevertellyouhowbeautifulyouare?"

Jean laughed through his misdirected kiss. "You are so drunk. Sit down." She ended up having to sit down on the ground with him in order to get him to follow and she had to admit that sitting was easier than standing had been. "Don't let Bobby upset you, okay?"

"Bobbydoesnotreallybotherme," Scott said. "HeismybrotherfromanothermotherandIlovehim. IwanthimtoshutupsometimesbutreallyIdbesadifhedid."

For the first time, Bobby had his ears on and heard Scott's slurred speech. He bit his lip, even let out a sniffle. The carrots weren't cut straight by any definition of the word.

"We're all family here." Jean confirmed Scott's sappy, blurred together words. Despite their intoxication, it was the truth. No matter the hardship, whether it be self-inflicted or from their adversaries they would take care of one another. She beckoned a glass a water to come to her, avoiding Hank and Bobby in the kitchen. Jean handed it to Scott, offering him a sweet and loving smile at the same time. "Drink some water, okay?"

Scott hummed a response as he put the glass to his lips. Was his mouth always so dry? "Thass better," he said. "Thhhank you." He smiled at her like a dreamy stroke victim. "I love you, Jean. From the moment I saw you and every moment since. You are just...the best!" He started chuckling. "That's a good word. Best. Cuz' that's what you are. Don't... don't ever forget, okay?"

"I won't and I love you too." She kissed him briefly, a much more elegant and precise gesture than his bumbling kiss. Scott's free hand held on to her arm, attempting to keep her close and to make the kiss last longer. Her own lowered inhibitions wanted to linger in that space with him. ~* 'Later' *~ Jean mentally murmured to him before breaking free and standing up, public displays of affection always carried tension with them and she attempted to shake that off as quickly as possible.

Returning to the range in the kitchen, she finally made the epic leap towards actually cooking dinner by turning the stove on. "It's stir-fry, that's what's for dinner, in case no one figured that out yet."

"Carrots are done," Bobby announced without making eye contact with Jean or anyone else for that matter. Scott's drunken honesty was still working him over. "What's next?"

“I’m still tryin’ ta find the rice,” said Hank, blinking at the cupboard he stood before.

“Oh my goodness Hank, if it was a snake it would have bit you.” Jean’s own filter was removed and she spoke in a way that felt less mindful than her normal choice in words. With a come-hither gesture of her index finger, the red box of instant rice floated past Hank’s head to Jean’s spot in the kitchen.

The redhead looked over at Bobby and his chaotically cut carrots, she smiled at his attempt. “Thanks Bobby, I can take it from here.” She handed him his own glass of water and directed him to the kitchen wall where Scott was sitting and dreamily gazing at her. “How about you take a break and keep Scott company?”

Jean pulled out a wok and a pot before opening the fridge and pulling out a bowl of meat that had been marinating. Sometimes she wondered how they would survive without her.

“I never got to ask you how you knew…” She continued her previous conversation with Hank, no longer derailed by Scott and Bobby’s goading of one another. “How do you know it takes three hours to shower?”

“Hm?” replied Hank, confused at first. “Oh! No, the question was how long to dry off after a shower. The actual shower only took about 30 minutes. But drying off- well! I might have to invent a full-body hair dryer that I can just sort of step into and come out dry in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s right.” Jean giggled “I’m not exactly on top of things, but I’m better off than those two.” She gestured to Bobby and Scott.

She shook her head and smiled at Hank’s response, there was no problem that he couldn’t solve. He was so focused and determined that even the impossible felt surpassable. With Hank it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ it was a matter of ‘when’.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” Jean said as she began preparing dinner, she swayed a little from the spins of intoxication but managed to compensate for it. “So if this is the new you, what now? Just back to business as usual?”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t know what else to do,” he confessed. “Business as usual is kinda comforting. Ya know?” He glanced over at Bobby. “Except- maybe spread the word so more people don’t try to kill me on sight,” he added with a grin, already over the earlier incident.

"I didn't try to kill you!" Bobby protested from the floor next to Scott. "I tried to save you!"

Scott furrowed his brow, shifting his glasses. "From what?"

"From the monster!" Bobby said far too loudly. "Keep up, Scott!"

“Okay, well, I don’t want anybody else to try to save me, then,” amended Hank.

“I’ll try to listen for them when they come home.” Jean interjected, everyone else, including the Professor, were out tonight leaving the four of them home alone. “The Professor can probably tell them too… or we could just leave them a note; Hank is blue and covered in fur now, please don’t attack him.” Jean laughed at the idea of leaving a neon post-it note like that on their bedroom doors.

Dinner came together quickly once the stove had been turned on and it was only a matter of a few more minutes before the meal was ready. Jean looked towards the door that led to the dining room, it felt like too big of a space for the four of them to eat in. Handing each of them their plates, Jean opted to sit on the floor with Scott and Bobby. She scooted over closer to Scott so Hank had enough room to join them.

“Where did you get that bottle of whisky, Bobby?” Jean dared to ask him how he got away with his antics. “There is no way someone would buy that for you.”

Bobby gave her a cornered look. "I... found it."

"Found it where?" Scott asked.

"Somewhere in town..."

Scott gave him a disapproving scowl. "I know you didn't steal that, Bobby. Tell me you didn't."

"No, of course not!" Bobby protested. "I slid into the liquor store, grabbed the first bottle I could reach, and slid back out after leaving ten bucks on the shelf. They didn't even see me!"

“Bobby,” said Hank around a mouthful of food. “That’s almost the same as stealing. How do you even know ten bucks was enough?”

"Because I read the fucking label and that's what it said!" Bobby retorted. "At least I think that's what it said..." He was suddenly unsure. "What's it matter? They probably had insurance replace the whole shelf after I knocked it over!"

Scott blinked a few times, unsure he'd heard correctly. "You... knocked over the whole shelf?"

"How do you think I got away without them seeing me?" Bobby asked. "It was an accident but it sure made one hell of a distraction!"

“Bobby, you didn’t?” Jean covered her mouth in disbelief at the mental picture he was laying out, the absolute mess he had made while trying to grab a single bottle.

“You have to be careful, more and more places are getting security cameras. If they ever caught you on tape and the Professor found out, he’d expel you.” She tried to phrase it in a way that mattered to Bobby, not ruining someone’s store or stealing or any other illegal activity, but a consequence that would remove him from the school and them.

"It was an accident!" Bobby repeated. "Accidents are nobody's fault."

Scott scoffed in utter disbelief. "Bobby, you can't really believe that's how things actually worked”

“Just don’t do it again, okay Bobby?” Jean’s voice was soft, it lacked the scorn that Scott had for his behavior. Her green eyes weren’t angry, Jean looked scared for Bobby and the amount of trouble he could get into if kept on pulling stunts like this one.

"Won't have to," Bobby said proudly. "After I got my old buddy, old pal Hank here to explain how alcohol is made, I can do a cold brew. First batch should be ready... uh... I forget now."

Scott looked back and forth between the three others in horror. They'd gone from eating dinner to listening to Bobby's moonshining confession. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal, too..." He pushed his dish forward, food only half eaten, and stood up from his chair. "I think I've heard enough."

“Absolutely not!” replied Hank at once. “In the first place, I don’t know how it’s done. And in the second, you are far too young for that.”

"Ha! You already told me the basics and I worked out the rest on my own." Bobby's head bobbled on his neck. He smirked at Hank and waggled his eyebrows. "Who's the smart one now?"

"Still not you," Scott said over his shoulder on his way to the hall.

“Bobby.” Jean frowned at his ridiculous response. “Get rid of it, please. Why is drinking so important anyways?”

"It cheered Hank up, didn't it?" Bobby mused loud with no scarcity of obnoxious pride.

“That’s no excuse to get involved in illegal activities!” countered Hank.

Bobby sighed with exasperation. These dweebs were killing his buzz. "Fine! I'll get rid of it if that will calm your hairy tits!" Of course, there was nothing that said he couldn't simply relocate his stashes off campus where they wouldn't hurt anyone.

“It wasn’t the alcohol that cheered up Hank, it was us.” Jean stood up and took her plate along with Scott’s abandoned dinner to the kitchen sink. “You don’t need it, Bobby.”

"Shit! I'm gonna' need cheering up if you two don't lay off!" Bobby tried to pout but he started laughing instead. The more he tried to stop, the harder it got.

Jean shook her head but in a moment’s time she couldn’t help but start laughing along with Bobby. Laughter was usually infectious but combine that with their drinking and her telepathy, it made it difficult for her to not succumb to it. Jean leaned back against the counter as her chest heaved from the fit of laughter. “Oh my god Bobby, you’re such a pain in the ass.” Jean gasped the words between laughs “But I still love you.”

Before long, Hank was also laughing, tears of mirth shining in his eyes. “What would we do with you, Bobby?” he asked.

"Probably be more like Scott," Bobby quipped between gasps of laughter.

"I heard that." Scott's unamused voice echoed from the hallway. Apparently he hadn't gone far, if he'd left at all and didn't just eavesdrop the entire time.

Bobby fell out of his chair and held his stomach on the floor. "Scott! You're such a fucking nerd!" He was nearly breathless.

Jean’s laughter turned into a snort as Bobby fell out of his chair causing her to laugh even harder as she covered her face in embarrassment before sliding down the cabinets she had been leaning against and onto the kitchen floor. It was all so incredibly stupid but it felt good to laugh like this.

“We’re all nerds.” She squeaked as her laughter turned silent.

"Then... no wonder... Scott's the leader!!!" Bobby howled and rolled onto his side.

Scott walked back into the room with a scowl on his face, but the sight of his friends laughing it up cracked his stony demeanor. "You're a real comedian," he said to Bobby.

"Lighten up!" Bobby retorted. "You're lame as hell!"

"With you around, Professor Xavier could moonlight this place as a clown college." Scott crossed his arms over his chest and fought like hell against the contagious laughter.

"And with you around, the Prof could do an Elton John cover band!" Bobby curled into a fetal position and laughed into his hands so hard he cried.

“Hey!” laughed Hank, wiping tears from his eyes. “I like Elton John!” He tried to say more, but he was still laughing too hard.

“Be nice to each other.” Jean pleaded from her position on the floor. Her stomach already hurt from laughing so much and it took a considerable effort to calm herself down to a giggling state. She got to her knees and slowly crept up the cabinets and countertop until she was stretched out across the flat surface and was capable of seeing them again.

"Okay, mom..." Bobby murmured through his laughter.

“Besides, I like Scott’s glasses.” Her giggles had ceased by the time she delivered the line, a dreamy touch of sincerity in her voice as she looked over at him.

Scott still had his arms crossed but his mouth was pursed like he was sucking on a lemon. Most people might think he was angry, but Jean could tell he was on the verge of laughing too. It took all the stubborn self-control he could muster to hold his stone face. "Are you done?" he asked Bobby.

"Hold me closer, tiny dancer!!!"

"Ha-ha," Scott said, his voice flat and deadpan.

"Count the headlights on the hiiiiiiighwaaaaay!"

"You're so stupid..."

"Lay me down in sheeeets of linen!" Bobby clutched his hands together against his chest and sang up to the ceiling. His falsetto reached its cracking peak. "You've had a busy day todaaaaaay!"

No matter how hard Scott bit his lip, there was no more holding it back. He lost it. At first it was a soft staccato of snorts through his nose, but his lips burst apart in a broad laugh that overtook his entire face. Soon he sunk to his knees and just let his shoulders wrack from his deep-chested laughter.

Hank had joined in on the second line and now continued the song loudly and mostly on key, if an octave too low. And when Scott burst out laughing, he joined in again. This whole day had started badly, but was finishing up pretty good.

Jean couldn’t help herself, all of them laughing together was more intoxicating than the whisky they had drunk. She pulled herself up onto her knees on the countertop and grabbed a wooden spoon to use as a microphone. She sang along in a sweet soprano.

“Blue Jean baby, L.A. Lady”

She sang to them like she was on a stage, the height of the counter allowing her to look down at them.

“Seamstress for the band”

A grand sweeping motion of her free hand, as if she was daring to touch them from the stage

“Pretty-eyed, pirate smile”

Jean extended her wooden spoon of a microphone to the crowd below her to continue the song. “Sing it Scott!” She exclaimed, pressuring him to join in on their antics yet again.

There was no refusing the wooden spoon. Scott knew that as surely as he knew the sun would rise. But it would be a cold day in hell before he brought Bobby's Elton John comparison to life in a ballad. A twisted smirk came over his mouth. He would turn the tables and kick up the tempo.

"Oh, you're so condescending
Your gall is never ending
We don't want anything, not a thing from you
Your life is trite and jaded
Boring and confiscated
If that's your best, your best won't do!"

And then Scott leaned right in Bobby's face for the screamo chorus.

"Oh, we're not gonna take it!
No, we ain't gonna take it!
Oh, we're not gonna take it anymore!!!"

Bobby sat back, full of shock and awe. Now it was his turn to wonder what was happening and question all of reality itself.

Hank was only vaguely familiar with the song- just enough to know the chorus- but he cheered all the same.

Jean returned to a fit of laughter, the look on Bobby’s face was like nothing she had ever seen before. He was in complete shock and was actually lost for words. That never happened with loud-mouthed Bobby.
“You did it!” She laughed “You did the impossible, you got Bobby to shut up.”

“It’s a miracle!” cried Hank, still laughing. “Quick, someone write this down!”

Bobby fought to give a retort, but all that happened was his mouth moved in flabbergasted silence. No words would come out.

"That's what I thought." Scott dropped the wooden handle at Bobby's feet like the proverbial mic that it was.

Jean hopped off the counter and made her way over to Scott. She smirked at him as the back and forth of mental banter occurred between them. The details unknown to everyone else in the room but judging by the way the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, it was a good conversation. The redhead departed from the kitchen with Scott by her side. “Don’t forget to drink water you two.” Her last words of advice before Jean and Scott disappeared together down the halls of the mansion.

Hank grinned at them as they left. No need to wonder what they were about to be up to. “I suppose that leaves us to clean up the mess,” he said. “Come on, Bobby; let’s wash the dishes.”

Bobby summoned a snap freeze so cold it made even him shiver and focused it directly on the kitchen sink. The air mixture made the dishes shatter. "Just throw them out," Bobby said. "I have a headache now."