Title: Twinkies & Pink Slips
Author: Sarita
Email: s.riley@southampton.gov.ukRating: PG - occasional mild swear word
Disclaimers : I don't own anything - everybody should know that by now.
Pairing : Scott, Hank, Xavier (friendship)
Notes: This is the fifth part in my 'Beginnings' set. Follows 'Life through a lens'. Doesn't make much sense unless you have read 'Beginnings', 'Hope','Opera..'and 'Life..'.Thanks to every one who had suggestions for future installments, I am trying to work them all in over time. This is set in the movieverse and works on the presumption that Scott grows more 'responsible' over time (ie he was a bit of a tearaway to start with).
Feedback : Wanted as much as a three gallon drum of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia !(Cyclops would be an optional topping.)
-----------------------------Scott glanced nervously over his shoulder. This could still go horribly wrong. Licking his lips he turned his attention back to the scene in front of him. With the professor due back tomorrow this would be his only shot at this. Sneaking out of the mansion in the evening would be a lot more difficult, if not impossible, once the powerful telepath was back in the house. Hank, on the other hand, was easily distracted. He smiled at the memory. He'd felt a twinge of guilt at deliberately ruining Hanks' latest experiment, stifled when he acknowledged to himself it was hardly the most important scientific test Hank had ever devised. Hanks search for a way to remove the high additive and sugar content and improve the nutritional value of a Twinkie's filling without the loss of taste (taste being subjective in Scott's opinion) would hardly win him the Nobel prize. A necessary sacrifice to tonight's bit of double dealing. Of course, `borrowing' the pink slip to the professors' vintage motorbike had given him slightly more pause. The thing looked like an antique but had a good engine in it. Scott shook his head - hell, the thing probably hadn't been ridden since it came of the assembly line given the mileage it carried. But the engine was good and that was all that mattered for tonight.
Time to throw it all on the line. In the three weeks that the professor had been away he'd grown bored. The initial excitement of being able to see again had been slightly tempered once he'd thoroughly explored the mansion grounds - twice. Hank was great, easy to be around even for someone as standoffish as Scott acknowledged he could be, but Hank was more often than not haring off on one of his scientific jags before long and within a week Scott was bored. He found he didn't sleep much. He was candid enough to realise it was partly due to survival instinct left over from sleeping rough in snatches and part due to his continued fear of letting his powers run amok. What it meant was he'd spent a week prowling the mansion at night and then slipped out into town. Less than two nights later he'd found the object of tonight's excursion. He hadn't mixed with the others at first, watching and picking up on the rules such as they were. There weren't many that's for sure. Whoever got back in one piece won, simple as that. But the winner wasn't cheated no matter what, which had surprised him. He'd seen what the rest of the group had done to one looser who had tried to welch on handing over the winnings and he'd been one of their own. It was a strange kind of honour code, but as long as it held for tonight he was in with a chance. It was all about tonight, he wouldn't be coming back even if he won. He wanted one thing out of this then it was back to the mansion before the professor got back. Loosing wasn't an option with the professors' bike on the line. He owed the guy, felt badly about taking the bike in the first place, but given he wasn't even contemplating loosing what harm could it do?
Last race of the night. No set route, who ever made it to Kitchens' creek and back first won. They were far enough out of town that the local cops didn't care who got wrapped around a tree. The guy on the other end of the C.B would confirm you'd actually gone to the creek. The object of Scott's desire didn't look like much, was probably the worst bike there really and thus part of the reason he'd chosen that race, but he had a good eye for detail and had been damn near obsessed with bikes and mechanics before the dance that changed his life so much. It had potential despite the amount of work it would require. It'd probably take years. * Good thing really since I'm not technically old enough to ride the thing anyway1 * All he had to do was beat the rider. The rider who pretty much was the dirtiest guy around as far as he could tell. He hadn't lost yet because he hadn't let anyone back in one piece. The guy didn't seem to care how much damage the other bike suffered, after all he could fix or sell it once he owned it. * He's not going to own this one though, * Scott thought grimly.
When the handkerchief came down both bikes roared into the night. Scott hadn't even made the first bend when the other guy pitched a wrench at his front wheel. Sparks lit off the spokes and he swayed dangerously but held his balance. The other guy had used the moment to pull ahead. Scott smiled despite the fear pounding in his chest. This was actually going to plan. Scott had scoped the terrain well when he'd settled on his target. His natural affinity for angles, corners and mathematics meant he had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the route he was going to take and what speed he could make where. He also knew where his rivals' bike couldn't go as a result of its low undercarriage. The other bike was a lot faster but would need to stick to the tarmac whereas he could go cross-country and use the dirt routes. With the other guy in front Scott peeled off onto his chosen route without obstruction. If the guy had been behind he might have been able to block Scott's turn or used his vulnerability in the turn to ram Scott off the road. The only real danger now was the dirt and grit he was choking on. Didn't think to wrap anything around his mouth. The guy would realise Scott's intentions soon enough and pour on the speed, but if Scott could keep the bike steady through his rough route he would reach the creek first. The professors bike wasn't purpose built for this kind of off road punishment but it was built to last. It took the knocks and kept running. When he slued off the dirt track just before the creek he could see the other guys lights behind him. It had worked so far!
He rounded the creek just as the other guy arrived and had to duck the fist that swung his way as the bikes passed each other. He was only partially successful as the other guys' forearm slashed across his cheek. The metal zipper on his jacket caught Scott and he felt the sharp sting as it grazed him. Of far more concern to Scott it also caught his glasses, snapping the safety band he'd rigged to keep them on during the bumpy ride. He swerved wildly, fighting to gain his balance and make sure the glasses didn't slip as he careened back off the way he'd come, loosing ground to the other rider in the process. He felt the dust stinging the bleeding graze on his cheekbone. That wasn't going to be easy to hide. The ride back was tense, he couldn't see the road `till he rounded the last of the trees on his route back. He wouldn't know `till then whether he'd lost too much ground against the other guy or not. With the break in the trees just ahead, Scott strained to see the other bikes' lights. There! Suddenly he was back on the highway and almost on top of him was the other guy, swerving wildly across the highway in an attempt to force Scott off the road. At first Scott thought he'd misjudged things badly but when the guy overshot his first attempt to bowl him off the road Scott knew. He had the angle on the bend right before the finish line, the other guy didn't. For all the speed of the other bike, Scott had won. He took the bend so sharply he felt his knee brush the tarmac fleetingly and then he was upright and over the line.
Scott waited tensely as the other rider approached him. The guy slapped the pink slip against Scott's chest and leaned in close. "Don't show your face around here again Kid," he hissed dropping the keys in Scott's lap. Scott kept his face straight until the guy walked away toward a battered pick up, got in and swept out of the parking lot. He let out a sigh of relief as the other riders began to disperse. Two hours later he'd managed the two trips necessary to get the bikes back to the mansion and cleaned up the Professors bike. Aside from the increase in mileage, it had fared miraculously well. Certainly nothing a new coat of polish wouldn't fix. The new bike he'd parked in a dark corner draped over with a heavy tarp. On close inspection it was pretty banged up. Scott grinned. He'd need to strip it right back to the frame and rebuild it from the ground up. Plenty to keep him occupied. And a kick-ass Harley to boot. Something of Scott's' now. Since coming to the mansion Scott had begun to feel a growing sense of unease. The Professors generosity was unstinting (he'd have probably bought Scott a bike if he'd had the gall to ask), but he felt like he needed something that he could claim as his. Regardless of the less than honest way he'd come by his new bike, that need had been satisfied. He groaned when he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The graze on his cheek was going to be impossible to hide and he didn't like lying. It was one thing to just not tell somebody about something that had happened but quite another to outright lie if he was asked. *Oh well I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it *. With a sigh Scott peeled his filthy clothes off and slumped onto the bed, his shower could wait till morning. His mind immediately turned to making a mental inventory of the repairs and work he wanted to do on the new bike. Expensive was a thought that came instantly to mind. He cast his mind back over the last few weeks and grinned as he hit on a plan. There was a pool hall in town if he remembered rightly. He'd been good at that sort of thing before the mutation had taken hold. With his increased spatial perception... he let the thought drift as he fell asleep with a small smile still on his face.
In the professors' study Hank paced. "Of all the foolish, insensitive things he could do...." He muttered.
Charles laughed softly. At Hanks' startled look he smiled and held up a hand to caution his friend. "I do not disagree entirely. He placed himself in unnecessary danger with that little stunt. It was rather inventive though don't you think?" Without waiting for an answer the professor continued, "He's been dragging his feet around for weeks with about as much life as a stone. Aside from his understandable excitement when he first got the glasses, he's not had much to smile about in the last few months Hank. He smiled tonight though."
"I was talking about ruining my Twinkie experiment," Hank muttered.
Charles looked at his friend, startled, and relaxed when he caught the other man's grin. " I think we need to find something to keep young Mr Summers more occupied before School starts in earnest however. If we can find a way to divert his talents to more noble pursuits he will achieve great things Hank. The boy has it in him, tonight is just more proof of that. He didn't take the easy option, he found a way to get what he wanted, fought for that. We just need to redirect his energies to a more deserving cause."
Hank stopped pacing. "Ah, your eternal quest Charles?"
Charles smiled. "He can act in a way that I cannot Hank, if that's what he ultimately wants of course. All I can do is show him the path and hope he takes it. How is the visor coming anyway? "
"Done. I was going to show it to him when you returned. Of course, we didn't expect you `till tomorrow or I don't think he'd have pulled this stunt tonight. "
Charles smiled openly. "I think learning how to use the visor will keep him occupied until school starts, along with his new acquisition of course. You'd better ensure he gets it registered as soon as possible and check to see how soon he can apply for his license. I have a feeling Scott is going to keep us on our toes no matter how much we try to fill up his time. Better he does things legally at least."
"He's going to choke on his cereal when he sees you at breakfast, " Hank chuckled maliciously. "Serves him right for messing with my Twinkies! "
The End.