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Getting Ready Takes Friends and Tylenol; [Scott's grp Pre-Wedding: OPEN]
Topic Started: Jan 28 2008, 11:44 PM (271 Views)
Cyclops
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
When: Around noon
Timeline: Wedding day
Warren and Scott jp at first, but the rest of the groom's side of the party are welcome.




Warren yawned and stretched as he waited for the coffee to finish running through the filter, the machine taking it’s sweet time as usual. With so many kids and random accidents around the place, the Mansion had never invested in a really expensive machine and the result was slow coffee. And Warren, being who he was, was used to pretty much everything being top of the line, so he was always a little bit impatient.

Leaving the machine for the moment, he moved to the fridge and pulled out two cans of cold Cherry Coke and the water jug, pouring a tall glass of water. He already had some Tylenol in the pocket of his dress trousers and once he’d sorted a cup of coffee for himself, he was going to attempt to wake Scott up.

Warren himself wasn’t feeling too bad, his healing factor helping him recover quickly from the insane amount of alcohol he’d had last night, as well as a long fly which was the best hang over cure, but he had a feeling Scott would be taking it hard. The groom had, quite rightly, had way more to drink, and though Warren had somehow had the presence of mind to make him sit up for a bit and down some water before going to bed, he wasn’t sure how much difference that would make.

With the coffee finally done, he made up a big cup and then worked out how to balance everything. Holding the cans under his arm, he held the water in one and the coffee in the other as he made his way carefully upstairs. Setting the coffee down outside Scott’s room, he opened the door slowly and entered. Placing his hoard down on the bedside table he went back quickly to get his own cup, closing the door behind him.

Crossing the room, Warren pulled open the curtains and opened the window to let some fresh air. Scott still wasn’t stirring, even though Warren was deliberately being loud so he crouched down to turn the bedside radio on. Someone had switched it off Scott’s usual jazz station, so Warren flipped it back and turned it up.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up. I’m not going to be the one to give you the kiss of life.” he said, as he stood up and popped the top off one of the cans of Coke and deposited the packet of Tylenol next to it. He smirked lightly as he caught sight of the gauze covering the tattoo on Scott’s upper arm. It was possible a certain red-haired telepath would kill them, but it was definitely worth it.

Pulling a chair over, he settled into it, resting his booted feet on the edge of the mattress and gave it a nudge, knowing that it would grate against Scott’s obsessive cleanliness. He was being a bit obnoxious, but it was more likely to wake Scott up than anything else.


Scott was definitely not one to overdrink, oversleep, overindulge in anyway except for his love for speed and technology, but there was no doubt, he had had too much to drink the night before. It was only the third time in his entire life that he had gotten completely drunk, and it was definitely a doozy this time. Of course, that was to be expected. Didn't make it better, really, but it made it understandable. Scott was awake when Warren entered the room, but he didn't move. He lay on the bed, in his normal stance, on his back, sleep visor on preventing too much variation in position. The side of the bed normally occupied by Jean was a shambles, but the fact that someone had slept in his was only evidenced by the body there. Otherwise, the blankets were still tucked in, the corners still tight.

Warren's arrival had woken Scott up, though, as was his habit, he did not open his eyes before his quick check of his visor's position was made. His head throbbed with more than his powers as his eyelids did eventually drag themselves up and he closed them again, as Warren thumped around and turned the radio on. Moving with the skill of a man accustomed to working blind, Scott's arm was the only part of him that moved to turn it off, no fumbling, no feeling around. Just falling straight on the radio. He winced and his other hand came up to gingerly probe the bandage on his upper arm. "Warren, get your feet off my bed, and tell me that we were attacked by Magneto last night, and that I dreamt getting a tattoo."


"Nope, no Magneto, no Sentinels, not even a Man-Lizard. Just a big tattoo.” Warren replied, perhaps a little too cheerfully considering how Scott was sounding a little murderous. He couldn’t help, he’d been waiting to corrupt Scott for a very long time He moved his feet though, dropping them to the floor and sitting forwards in the chair. He picked up the Tylenol and chucked it on to the bed. “Take some of those, you’ll start to feel better in a bit.” he advised Scott, the packet bouncing off the prone man’s chest and coming to rest by his side.

At this point, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket and he quickly dug it out. Reading the called ID, he flipped it open, a smile on his lips as he answered. “Hey, gorgeous.” He listened as Ari quickly explained that the girls were on their way back, and he needed to get Scott out of the bedroom and down into one of the empty rooms as Jean’s and Scott’s was about to become bridesmaid central. After a brief conversation, Warren hung up and pushed the phone back in his pocket.

“Okay, Scottie, time to get a move on. The girl’s want to take over this room in about twenty minutes, and I, for one, am not going to stand in the way of Bridezilla.” He said, getting into his feet and thrusting the can of Coke in Scott’s face. “Show a bit of enthusiasm, you’re marrying the love of your life today.” Warren teased lightly.


Scott groaned at the memory of the tattoo parlor and he rolled his glowing red eyes behind his visor. "You are supposed to be my friend," he muttered. Warren tossed him the Tylenol and finally, he pulled himself into a sitting position, not switching to his glasses yet, not willing to rattle his aching head yet. "At least promise me the tattoo is something macho, and not a flowery heart that says 'Mother.'" He opened the Tylenol and popped them in his mouth, washing them down with the cherry coke Warren had brought, inwardly amused that his friend remembered his distaste for coffee. He peeled back the edge of the bandage and revealed the tattoo, a stylized Phoenix in blue-black ink chosen for his ability to see it. "Oh, she's going to love this," he mumbled, "It's like she branded me."

Warren took the call, as Scott shifted so his feet were on the floor, a step towards actually getting out of bed, and as he was told the women were on their way, he pushed himself tiredly into a standing position with his cane and he said, "I am going to shower in my shower. You can tell them to wait." He, and Warren, of course, knew that he would hurry to be out of there in time, and would never make things difficult for Jean, especially not today. He was just being cranky.

He had made it to the bathroom when Warren made his comment about marrying the love of his life, and Scott stopped. He put his hand to the wall, as if it had just hit him, and his knees were about to give out. "My God..." he whispered, "I am, aren't I?"


“I am your friend. I’m giving you valuable life experiences.” Warren mock protested, before swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “Something to tell the grandkids. So they know you weren’t always hobbling around on a cane, handing out detentions.” he added, grinning at his friend. He should probably be more sympathetic to Scott’s plight, but he was in good spirits; his two best friends were getting married and he couldn’t be happier for them despite the teasing.

The comment about the tattoo had Warren smiling and shaking his head. “She doesn’t need that to know she’s branded you. You, my friend, are already micro-chipped and tied up in the barn.” he paused for a second, thinking that tied up alluded too much towards fore-play and that was not something he wanted to think about. “Okay, I take back tied up. What you two kids get up to in your own time is none of my business.”

As Scott stubbornly informed him he was going to take a shower, Warren held up his hands as though stepping back from the whole matter. “Well that’s your prerogative. I will be making a swift exit out the window if they happen to turn up while we’re still in here.” he replied, a smirk still on his lips as he watched his friend get up, wondering if he was going to have prop him up. “Want some blood?” he offered jokingly “It will pep you right up.”

Warren repositioned his feet on the bed, settling back carefully in the chair so as not to hurt his wings, readying himself to wait for Scott to finish in the shower. He heard his friend’s whispered words and smiled to himself, not turning around in the chair. “Yes, you are. Finally.” he replied simply. “Now get in the shower because I’m going to time you. Ari and Mina on bridesmaid duty scare me almost as much as Jean does.” Warren ordered him, resting his head against the back of the chair and closing his eyes


Scott smirked at Warren's comments about him being already Jean's but he couldn't deny it, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm whipped, laugh it up," he laughed, softly, "I'd just keep Ari away when Jean throws her bouquet, if I were you." And, with that, he slipped into the shower.

The Scott that returned precisely 18 and a half minutes later, now in his glasses not his visor, and leaning not quite as much on his cane, was more the Scott that Warren was familiar with. He was still terribly hung over, and exhausted, but the lines in his face had vanished, his gait sped up a bit, his manner still tense, but in his normal way, a man whose burdens were self imposed. "Alex was in here this morning," he told Warren, as he hobbled over to the bed to put on his slippers, "He took the tuxes over to the spare room, already before heading into the city to pick up his guest. What time is it?" He checked the clock, which as a concession to his sight had glowing white numbers instead of the normal red of digital clocks. "Ok, we're on schedule."

He and Jean had very carefully plotted when things were supposed to happen. It helped them both to not get flustered, though Warren would be able to tell by Scott's rapid speech that the groom was definitely trying to make this a battle plan so he could cope with it.
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Warren Worthington
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Warren cracked open an eyelid as Scott re-entered the room. He hadn’t been sleeping...just resting his eyes. He sat up, clearing his throat and dropping his booted feet to the floor once more. He reached over for his cup and drained the last of his coffee before getting to his feet, running a hand over his ruffled dark blonde hair. Scott explained that Alex had already been and gone, and Warren gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Looks like he’s beating you in the organisational stakes already.” Warren commented.

Taking a last glance around the room to make sure they had everything, Warren gave a slight nod, before crossing back towards the door. “Let’s go.” he urged as he ushered his friend out the door, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he moved along side him. “Don’t stress okay, everything will be fine. Most important part is that you, Jeannie and Hank are there. The rest is just wrapping paper. Pretty wrapping paper, I’ll grant you, but just decoration in the end.” Without obviously slowing his long-legged stride, Warren kept pace with his friends slightly slower speed, how hindered only a little by his damaged knee. Really the winged mutant wished Scott would swallowed his pride and accept another few blood transfusions, but he knew not to force it.

As they came to the spare room, set aside for the men getting ready, Warren pushed open the door. “Okay, so I figure we get dressed and then chill out and under no circumstances do anything that will attract attention from the ‘Other Side’” he commented as he crossed the room to begin unzipping suit bags.

Scott nodded at Warren's reassurances as they entered the spare room, looking around and noticing that the three tuxedos were carefully hung up, each one just a bit different. They weren't rentals. They'd been bought and paid for so the alterations were purposely made. Warren's, of course, had been modified for his wings, as there was no way Scott was going to make him keep them uncomfortably bound today. Both his tux and Alex's were simple black, the vests a bright pink to go with the bridesmaid's dresses, much to Alex's dismay. Scott was not so secretly amused by the whole thing, and had teased them both that he'd heard that it went wonderfully with their blond hair.

Scott's vest was black and he'd wear a white rose, the same kind as was in Jean's bouquet, and they'd wear pink like the one's the bridesmaids would carry. Scott was so glad that the girls had handled all that. The color co-ordination was ridiculously important to them, and he would have botched it completely. He looked at the tuxes and said, quietly, "How the hell did we end up here, War?" The language he chose was a little strong for Scott, showing his stress. "It-- It seems like it's too good to be happening. I'm not supposed to get what I want."

“Here?” Warren questioned, pretending to play dumb. “About to wear a pink waistcoat in front of everyone at the Mansion? I couldn’t tell you but I’d like to hunt down the person responsible and make them endure some kind of public humiliation.” Warren commented as he warily inspected the pink waistcoat again. He was wearing the bottom half of his suit already but with a different shirt on to keep the other one clean.

As the more serious point came, Warren let out a quiet sigh and sat down on the couch. “Scott, I know you won’t pay attention to what I’m about to say and it’s completely futile for me to try but I’m going to do it anyway. You’re about to marry a beautiful, incredible woman, with your recently reunited brother by your side and your daughter not too far behind; just enjoy it. Don’t question whether it’s entitled to you, or how it happened, or when it’s going to end. Just enjoy it.” Warren said firmly.

“Even if it’s just for today. It’s not often we get a chance for a happily ever after around here.” he added quietly. “Know what you’ve got and don’t doubt that you deserve it because while you’re wondering when things are going to be taken away from you, you miss the chance to enjoy them.” He licked his lips and gave a slight shake of his head. “Not to put a dampener on things but I lost the woman I loved before the chance for any of this came about. You’ve got something the majority of people only dream about. So just accept it and don’t make me give you another pep talk.” he said, the trademark teasing attitude sneaking in right at the end. He could always swing between the the extremes of joking and serious but sometimes it was harder than others. When Candy came into it, only a supreme effort on his part enabled him to do it but he wasn’t about to start moping on Scott’s wedding day. He had Ari now, and she was a far more amazing woman than he could ever have hoped to find.

When Warren complained about the color of the vests, Scott chuckled under his breath, "I believe the ones responsible are Ari and Mina. They insisted on pink and black for their gowns, and we're just the menfolk here. We're subject to their whims and vanity. I suppose it makes it special though. If I'd had my way, we'd have been married in private without all this muss and fuss." He smiled, though and said, "But then, Jean wouldn't have the chance to be center of attention, and you know she wouldn't go for that." Truth was, he wanted her to have her day and would have endured whatever color tuxedo she wanted him in. He was supremely grateful she loved him just as much and would never ask for something that would hurt his pride.

His smile faded at the more serious tone, as he took a seat in the chair across from Warren and he nodded, understandly, "You're right, of course, you just know how I am. Sometimes I remember waking up in the hospital after the coma and, everything that's happened since then seems so fantastical. I wanted to be a pilot, not, as Alex puts it, a superhero. Getting married seems so... normal, and normal's just not something that happens around here on a regular basis."

He put his weakened leg up on the footstool and he said, "Enough though, enough of this-- all of this. I wanted to talk to you before the ceremony, because I wanted to surprise Jean, and you know how hard a thing that is." He hefted his glass cane and said, "When we walk back up the aisle... I'm not using this. I want her to remember that walk as perfect, and not tainted with the fact that it almost never happened because of... well, who we are and what we do. I've been working with McCoy, and as long as I don't overdo it, I can probably handle the trip back up the aisle without falling on my face. So, after the kiss, I'll need you to take it up for me, is that all right?"
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Cyclops
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Alex didn't know what to do with Dani now that he'd gotten her here. It was still early, too early, but he had still a lot of things to do before the wedding. He was not the best man, but he was a groomsman so he had to go help with Scott, and help get things ready, yadda yadda yadda. So, he thought maybe he'd just take her to his room, and let her get ready and everything, most likely staying out of the room because, face it, good intentions or not, he was not a strong man when it came down those matters. But when they had arrived in the staff wing, the curtain had dissuaded any attempts he could make to get her into his room, considering it was on the "girl's" side of the hall. Not really feeling it was appropriate to take her to the groom's staging area, he had instead apologized profusely, citing pre-ceremony craziness, and had suggested she go freshen up in the Maximoffs' quarters down on the first floor, taking her down and setting her up there.

Heading back up to the Grooms' area, he caught Scott's words to Warren. "Oh, hey, you think you're up to it?" he asked.

Looking up as his brother entered, Scott nodded, "I think I am, but do not mention this anyone, all right Alex?"

"How much is it worth to you to keep it quiet, Big Bro?" Alex asked, flopping on the couch, sideways and resting his head, cheekily, on Scott's lap, looking up at him with a smile, "Because I don't know how comfortable I am keeping secrets from your wife. She... scares me."

Scott pushed his brother up into a seated position, fondly but a bit disapprovingly, "You've been drinking?"

"Hair of the dog, ociffer," Alex slurred, exaggeratedly. He straightened up and said, "I'm fine, Scott, really."

Scott's lips tightened, "Alex..."

"Seriously." Alex promised, "I'm just fine," He put his hand on his brother's shoulder, "Seriously, Scott, I am not going to do anything to mess up the ceremony, for you. I'm so incredibly happy for you, I really am. And, I'm honored you'd include me."

"I'm glad you're here, Alex," Scott said, "Go get some coffee, and something to eat, ok?"

Alex nodded, "You got it. You want anything? You, Worthington? I saw the caterer setting stuff up down there. I can snag a snack tray."
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Piotr Rasputin
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One thing Piotr knew, he felt uncomfortable in a tux. Really, he just filled it out well. Piotr's tux was that old style one. Nothing fancy, but still crisp and clean. It really accented his shoulders, coming to crisp edges before meeting the sleeve, as well as the dress pants he wore, which were also a little tight. I mean, couldn't a six foot three muscular guy get a well tailored suit without it costing a whole load of money? Apparently not, because on Piotr's low budget, he had to rent it. But, it was well worth it. He wouldn't miss the wedding for anything. Especially as he was hoping at the reception he might be able to slip in a dance with a certain someone. He'd actually been using the spare money that he hadn't spent on clothes to pay for dance lessons.

But, as an unofficial member of the wedding so to speak, Piotr was supposed to usher people to their seats. And when you're six foot three, it was easy to see over most people's heads, so he was pretty good at it. But, Jean had sent Piotr off to check on Scott for her, as neither could see each other before the wedding. It was traditions like that that got Piotr teared up, but he swore he wouldn't cry, even though he couldn't rust.

Walking slightly into the room, Piotr leaned against the doorway, grinning at Scott. "Nervous yet?" Piotr asked in humorous tones, though his speech was still underlaid with his Russian accent. "Jean just sent me to double check to make sure that everything is going okay in here. People are just beginning to arrive, but only the early ones."
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Cyclops
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Scott gave a weak smile and said, "I've faced torture, and murder and monster and dinosaurs, and there is nothing that has made my stomach churn more than the thought of that one little gold band," he told Piotr. He looked sharply at Warren, "You do have the rings, right? That's your job..." He put his hand to his forehead, rubbing it over his red glasses, in stressed anxiety, "We should have had a rehearsal last night not a party."

"Nonsense," Alex said, "Things are going to go smooth as silk, Big Brother." He looked over at Piotr, who hadn't come to the bachelor party, because he wasn't 21 yet which was the age limit for the Penthouse Club, and said, "Don't let him fool you now. Scott was in his prime last night."

Scott closed his eyes and wondered how much it would spoil the day if he optic blasted his brother out the window. His thoughts drifted along his rapport to his bride, and his smile was gentle, "She's nervous," he said, softly, "Ari's doing her hair..." His eyes sprung open as Jean realized he was peeking and shut the door that let only the lightest of touches through their rapport. He laughed, under his breath, feeling suddenly better about his own nerves, "She locked me out."

Alex rolled his eyes and said, "Well, you aren't supposed to be sneaking little looks through that weird telepathic connection. Somehow I'm pretty sure it's cheating."

His brother put up a hand in surrender, "Fine, no more peeking. It's good to know I'm not the only one who's scared out of their minds." He shrugged, "She's hung over too," he smirked, "They must have had a good time last night." He put his hand to the bandaged tattoo on his arm and said, "Not as permanently scarring as our time, I hope."
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Hank McCoy
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Hank had never been this hungover in his life. The moment he opened his eyes, he regretted it; the sun was streaming through the windows, mocking his hungover state, and with a deep groan the big man lifted his arm to cover his eyes. The other hand rummaged around on his bedside table, searching for anything that might make the throbbing behind his eyeballs cease.

God, he must have drunk several gallons at least. It took a lot to get Hank drunk nowadays -- after all, he was larger than the average man, so alcohol didn't do much to his system. Yet by the look of things, he could still get plastered if the mood hit him. Thank goodness for blue fur, otherwise he might have a tattoo by now as well.

"Oh, my stars and garters..." He moaned, opening his eyes once he could do so relatively painlessly. Ever so slowly Hank sat up, eyes glancing towards the clock, and for a long moment he couldn't even remember just what was so special about this day.

Grimacing once he did remember -- not because he was dreading the wedding, but the fact that he had a lot to do before then -- Hank gingerly slid his legs over the edge of his bed and stood. Somehow, he didn't think Scott would appreciate him showing up to the wedding in nothing but rumbled blue fur and Cookie Monster boxers -- a prank gift from a colleague.

An hour later, the man emerged from his bathroom, fur and claws neatly groomed, teeth meticulously brushed, with his pants and shirt on and jacket over one arm. Though it pained him to do so, Hank emerged into the hallway, listening to the chaos going on. Finally he found the room where the men were preparing, and smiled just a little. It was about time.

"O Fearless Leader, are you ready?" Hank quipped, leaning against the door once he had stepped inside.
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Warren Worthington
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"You do have the rings, right? That's your job..." He put his hand to his forehead, rubbing it over his red glasses, in stressed anxiety, "We should have had a rehearsal last night not a party."

"Yes i have the rings, Scott." Warren replied with an exaggerated patience as he smirked lightly at his friend. "And no, we shouldn't have had a rehersal. No way you were getting away with missing out on a bachelor party." One of the reason's their friendship worked so well was on the basis that Warren was fairly layed back about most things and Scott was wound incredibly tight. The contrast worked well especially right now when Scott was about to start getting stressed out and worrying over every single detail. "Just chill Scott, you've got hours yet until the wedding, and even then all you have to do is stand there, look amazed when you see Jeannie and then repeat whatever you're told to." He was deliberately simplifying the whole issue, but really he thought everyone would be happier once the actual ceremony was finally over. Warren had already come to the conclusion that if he ever got married he was going to either elope, or have the smallest wedding possible.

Walking slightly into the room, Piotr leaned against the doorway, grinning at Scott. "Nervous yet?" Piotr asked in humorous tones,

Warren looked up at the new arrival and gave the tall Russian mutant, who had just entered, a grin. "Hey Pitor." he greeted him. At Alex's comment, Warren gave a short laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "I didn't think we'd ever manage to pull off the tattoo but those extra shots seemed to do the trick." Scott's smile became dopey, and he commented that Jean was nervous and Ari was doing her hair, and Warren picked up a nearby cushion and chucked it at Scott, the soft projectile bouncing off the groom-to-be's shoulder. "It's absolutely cheating. No more of that. You'll ruin the surprise."

"O Fearless Leader, are you ready?" Hank quipped, leaning against the door once he had stepped inside.

"Morning Hank, how are you holding up?" Warren asked cheerfully, mainly because he felt like teasing the people who didn't have healing factors to help them deal with hangovers. It was all light hearted though, and he was still armed with Tylenol if anyone needed it.

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Piotr Rasputin
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Piotr looked at the people in the room, and couldn't help but realize they were hung over... with the exception of Warren of course. He'd only been drunk once in his life. It took kegs for him like it might take someone shots or bottles of alcohol to get drunk. Which was a good thing, because he had a tendency to be the designated driver to most places.

Piotr let out a deep chuckle, trying to keep his voice quieted a bit for their own sake. "Well, it's good to know you all had fun without me." Piotr said, feeling slightly sad that he was so young, even though he was still taller than everyone else in the room. He carefully stepped aside as Beast walked into the room, a look of shock on Piotr's face that Hank of all people had gotten drunk.

"E tu, Hank?" Piotr said, biting his lip to keep from bursting out in laughter. "Well, I would love to stay and chat gentlemen, but I have a job to do." Piotr wasn't really thinking about his job as usher. He actually had a more important task in mind. Namely putting a bit of alcohol in his body so he wouldn't be so nervous.

Piotr pushed his way out the door and walked carefully down the hall. It was going to be a very long day.
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Cyclops
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"I didn't think we'd ever manage to pull off the tattoo but those extra shots seemed to do the trick." Warren snickered, and Scott knew he was having absolutely too much fun with this. He'd been trying to 'corrupt' him since they first met, long ago.

The first time he'd ever sneaked out after curfew was to meet with some girls that Warren had somehow gotten to know. Warren was barely fifteen, and Scott just before his seventeenth birthday, so he'd had his driver's license... even though it was not entirely legal, considering his eye sight. Both girls they'd gone to meet had been giggly airheads, attracted to Warren for both his looks and his money, but, one had been coaxed to cuddle up to Scott when Warren told her about how Scott had his pilot's license (a slight exaggeration, but only slight since he was a mere five hours from taking the test.) Scott had been absolutely a stammering, miserable mess, and eventually his 'date' had returned to Warren's side, leaving him to study the menu at the coffee shop and pretend he wasn't bored and unhappy. Warren had given him a lecture about it afterward, telling him it was ok to loosen up, that it was ok to have fun. Nearly fifteen years later, he'd finally succeeded. Funny how persistent the High Flying Angel could be, especially considering how much Scott had resented him at first, fearing his usurping his place as Xavier's prize pupil. He was really very happy that Warren hadn't given up, even if the result was a phoenix tattoo.

Looking fondly at his friend, his best friend, Scott shook his head and said, "You realize when she sees this, she's going to kill me, right? And, then, she's going to kill you. Then," he smiled, "She's going to revive us both and kill us again. She can do it. you know. Hope you are prepared." He glanced to his brother, "And, you, you're next."

"O Fearless Leader, are you ready?" Hank quipped, leaning against the door once he had stepped inside.

"Morning Hank, how are you holding up?" Warren asked cheerfully


"You are a cruel ma, Warren," Scott looked up at Hank and smiled, "McCoy, sit down before you fall down and don't let Mr. Healing Factor get to you. We may have to bleed him dry if anyone else stumbles in here looking the worse for the wear." He indicated one of the other chairs, "We can't have the wedding with the officiator falling down, now can we? Alex, get Hank some coffee, would you? I think we could all use some caffeine and a little food."

Alex nodded, and rolled his eyes towards Warren, good naturedly, "Look at him, giving orders, you'd think it's his day or something." He slung an arm around Piotr as they both headed down the hall, "Come on, Pete, I think I know where they stashed the booze. A little irish in McCoy's coffee and he'll be right as rain."
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