Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie > A Not-So-Peaceful Morning
The sun had barely begun to peek through the windows of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, casting a faint glow across the sprawling estate. Most of the students were still fast asleep, enjoying the last moments of peace before their day began. But for Bobby Drake, today marked the continuation of his ongoing mission—a mission to make John Allerdyce’s mornings a bit more... eventful.
Bobby tiptoed into their shared room, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he eyed the slumbering figure of John, still dead to the world. John was sprawled across the bed, as usual, his blanket barely covering him as one arm dangled off the side of the mattress. His face was buried in his pillow, his breath steady and deep.
Completely unaware of the plot being hatched against him.
Bobby had thought long and hard about how to follow up on his recent triumphs over John.
Waking him up by tickling his feet had been a stroke of genius, but now, he wanted to kick things up a notch. He knew there was no turning back now. He had to go bigger, and maybe a bit more absurd.
With a quick glance at the time, Bobby noted that they still had a solid hour before breakfast. That would be plenty of time to carry out his plan. Grabbing the corner of John’s blanket, Bobby took a deep breath and carefully, quietly, started to roll John up like a human burrito.
John stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent under his breath, but he didn’t wake. Bobby held his breath, continuing to wrap the blanket tightly around John’s body. Inch by inch, he bundled him up, trapping his arms snugly inside the blanket so he couldn’t move. After a few moments of careful maneuvering, Bobby stepped back to admire his handiwork. John was now completely cocooned in the blanket, his arms pinned down, his head sticking out from one end of the burrito, while his feet—bare and exposed—poked out from the other.
Perfect.
Bobby snickered quietly to himself, crouching down at the foot of the bed where John’s feet lay helpless and vulnerable. The soles were right there, defenseless, and Bobby’s fingers tingled with anticipation.
John, still mostly unconscious, shifted slightly in his blanket prison, unaware of what was about to happen.
Without wasting another moment, Bobby reached out and gently brushed his fingers across the bottom of John’s right foot.
The reaction was instantaneous. John’s entire body jerked, and he let out a muffled groan, his toes curling in reflex. Still groggy, John didn’t fully process what was happening just yet, but Bobby could see the smile twitching at the corners of his friend’s mouth.
“Time to wake up, John,” Bobby whispered, grinning as he traced his fingers lightly over John’s foot again, this time starting from the heel and working his way up to the arch.
John’s foot twitched, and he mumbled something into his pillow, but Bobby wasn’t about to let up now. He used both hands this time, one for each foot, and began running his fingers up and down John’s soles in quick, playful strokes. His fingertips danced over the smooth skin, brushing against the arches and insteps, teasingly gliding beneath John’s toes.
A giggle slipped out from John’s lips, muffled and sleepy at first, but it quickly grew louder as the sensation became harder to ignore. His feet jerked in protest, but with the blanket wrapped so tightly around him, there was little he could do to escape.
“Bobby, what the hell—ah—ahaha! Stop it!” John finally managed to croak out, his voice hoarse with both sleep and laughter. His body squirmed in the blanket, trying desperately to free his arms, but Bobby had done his job well. John was trapped, completely at Bobby’s mercy.
Bobby’s grin widened as he continued his tickling assault, his fingers moving faster now.
“Good morning, sunshine!” he teased, wiggling his fingers beneath John’s toes, watching as they curled and flexed in a futile attempt to escape the ticklish torment.
John’s laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, spilling out of him in gasps and giggles.
“Bobby, I swear—hahahaha—stop! I’m gonna—ah! You’re dead!”
But Bobby wasn’t about to let up. He knew exactly how ticklish John was, and he was going to make the most of this opportunity. He dug his fingers into the arches of John’s feet, scratching lightly at the sensitive skin before moving up to the balls of his feet, then back down to his heels.
John was losing it. His entire body bucked and squirmed within the blanket, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free. His feet twitched and jerked under Bobby’s relentless fingers, and his laughter grew louder, more desperate, as the tickling continued.
“C’mon, you’ve gotta admit this is a pretty creative way to wake up,” Bobby said with a laugh, watching as John’s face turned red from both the effort of struggling and the overwhelming ticklish sensation coursing through his body.
“I’m—hahahaha—gonna kill you!” John gasped between fits of laughter, his voice high-pitched and breathless.
“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time,” Bobby teased, his fingers now focused on the insteps of John’s feet, where he knew the tickling would be the most unbearable. He pressed his thumbs into the arches, massaging the area for a moment before switching back to light, quick strokes with his fingers.
John’s laughter was now uncontrollable, spilling out of him in waves as he writhed helplessly on the bed. His head tilted back, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out another string of giggles.
“I swear—hahaha—Bobby—enough!”
Bobby wasn’t done just yet. He had one more trick up his sleeve.
Leaning in, he began tracing small circles on the balls of John’s feet, alternating between light, teasing strokes and firmer, more deliberate tickles. The change in technique made John’s laughter even more frantic, his body twisting and turning in a desperate attempt to escape.
“Okay, okay! Hahahaha! I give up! You win!” John finally gasped, his voice hoarse from laughing so hard.
Bobby grinned triumphantly, but he didn’t stop right away. He gave John’s feet one final tickle, his fingers skittering across the sensitive skin one last time before he finally released his grip.
John lay there for a moment, panting and trying to catch his breath, his body still trembling from the aftermath of the tickling. His feet twitched slightly as he glared up at Bobby, his face flushed with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.
“You... are... dead,” John muttered between gasps, but there was no real malice in his tone. If anything, there was a hint of begrudging amusement.
Bobby, still grinning, stepped back and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, at least you’re awake now, right?”
John groaned, shifting slightly in the blanket as he tried to free himself. “Yeah, awake and plotting your demise.”
Bobby chuckled, stepping closer to help unravel the blanket. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
As he unwound the blanket and freed John from his burrito prison, Bobby couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. Sure, John would get him back eventually—probably with something fiery—but for now, Bobby was enjoying his victory.
John, now sitting up on the bed, glared at Bobby with mock fury, though the corners of his mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile. “You’re a dead man, Drake. You know that, right?”
Bobby shrugged, completely unfazed. “Worth it.”
With a final laugh, Bobby darted out of the room, leaving John behind to plan his revenge. Whatever came next, Bobby was ready for it. But for now, he’d relish in the fact that he’d gotten the best of John once again.
For now, at least.
Bobby tiptoed into their shared room, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he eyed the slumbering figure of John, still dead to the world. John was sprawled across the bed, as usual, his blanket barely covering him as one arm dangled off the side of the mattress. His face was buried in his pillow, his breath steady and deep.
Completely unaware of the plot being hatched against him.
Bobby had thought long and hard about how to follow up on his recent triumphs over John.
Waking him up by tickling his feet had been a stroke of genius, but now, he wanted to kick things up a notch. He knew there was no turning back now. He had to go bigger, and maybe a bit more absurd.
With a quick glance at the time, Bobby noted that they still had a solid hour before breakfast. That would be plenty of time to carry out his plan. Grabbing the corner of John’s blanket, Bobby took a deep breath and carefully, quietly, started to roll John up like a human burrito.
John stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent under his breath, but he didn’t wake. Bobby held his breath, continuing to wrap the blanket tightly around John’s body. Inch by inch, he bundled him up, trapping his arms snugly inside the blanket so he couldn’t move. After a few moments of careful maneuvering, Bobby stepped back to admire his handiwork. John was now completely cocooned in the blanket, his arms pinned down, his head sticking out from one end of the burrito, while his feet—bare and exposed—poked out from the other.
Perfect.
Bobby snickered quietly to himself, crouching down at the foot of the bed where John’s feet lay helpless and vulnerable. The soles were right there, defenseless, and Bobby’s fingers tingled with anticipation.
John, still mostly unconscious, shifted slightly in his blanket prison, unaware of what was about to happen.
Without wasting another moment, Bobby reached out and gently brushed his fingers across the bottom of John’s right foot.
The reaction was instantaneous. John’s entire body jerked, and he let out a muffled groan, his toes curling in reflex. Still groggy, John didn’t fully process what was happening just yet, but Bobby could see the smile twitching at the corners of his friend’s mouth.
“Time to wake up, John,” Bobby whispered, grinning as he traced his fingers lightly over John’s foot again, this time starting from the heel and working his way up to the arch.
John’s foot twitched, and he mumbled something into his pillow, but Bobby wasn’t about to let up now. He used both hands this time, one for each foot, and began running his fingers up and down John’s soles in quick, playful strokes. His fingertips danced over the smooth skin, brushing against the arches and insteps, teasingly gliding beneath John’s toes.
A giggle slipped out from John’s lips, muffled and sleepy at first, but it quickly grew louder as the sensation became harder to ignore. His feet jerked in protest, but with the blanket wrapped so tightly around him, there was little he could do to escape.
“Bobby, what the hell—ah—ahaha! Stop it!” John finally managed to croak out, his voice hoarse with both sleep and laughter. His body squirmed in the blanket, trying desperately to free his arms, but Bobby had done his job well. John was trapped, completely at Bobby’s mercy.
Bobby’s grin widened as he continued his tickling assault, his fingers moving faster now.
“Good morning, sunshine!” he teased, wiggling his fingers beneath John’s toes, watching as they curled and flexed in a futile attempt to escape the ticklish torment.
John’s laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, spilling out of him in gasps and giggles.
“Bobby, I swear—hahahaha—stop! I’m gonna—ah! You’re dead!”
But Bobby wasn’t about to let up. He knew exactly how ticklish John was, and he was going to make the most of this opportunity. He dug his fingers into the arches of John’s feet, scratching lightly at the sensitive skin before moving up to the balls of his feet, then back down to his heels.
John was losing it. His entire body bucked and squirmed within the blanket, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free. His feet twitched and jerked under Bobby’s relentless fingers, and his laughter grew louder, more desperate, as the tickling continued.
“C’mon, you’ve gotta admit this is a pretty creative way to wake up,” Bobby said with a laugh, watching as John’s face turned red from both the effort of struggling and the overwhelming ticklish sensation coursing through his body.
“I’m—hahahaha—gonna kill you!” John gasped between fits of laughter, his voice high-pitched and breathless.
“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time,” Bobby teased, his fingers now focused on the insteps of John’s feet, where he knew the tickling would be the most unbearable. He pressed his thumbs into the arches, massaging the area for a moment before switching back to light, quick strokes with his fingers.
John’s laughter was now uncontrollable, spilling out of him in waves as he writhed helplessly on the bed. His head tilted back, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out another string of giggles.
“I swear—hahaha—Bobby—enough!”
Bobby wasn’t done just yet. He had one more trick up his sleeve.
Leaning in, he began tracing small circles on the balls of John’s feet, alternating between light, teasing strokes and firmer, more deliberate tickles. The change in technique made John’s laughter even more frantic, his body twisting and turning in a desperate attempt to escape.
“Okay, okay! Hahahaha! I give up! You win!” John finally gasped, his voice hoarse from laughing so hard.
Bobby grinned triumphantly, but he didn’t stop right away. He gave John’s feet one final tickle, his fingers skittering across the sensitive skin one last time before he finally released his grip.
John lay there for a moment, panting and trying to catch his breath, his body still trembling from the aftermath of the tickling. His feet twitched slightly as he glared up at Bobby, his face flushed with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.
“You... are... dead,” John muttered between gasps, but there was no real malice in his tone. If anything, there was a hint of begrudging amusement.
Bobby, still grinning, stepped back and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, at least you’re awake now, right?”
John groaned, shifting slightly in the blanket as he tried to free himself. “Yeah, awake and plotting your demise.”
Bobby chuckled, stepping closer to help unravel the blanket. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
As he unwound the blanket and freed John from his burrito prison, Bobby couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. Sure, John would get him back eventually—probably with something fiery—but for now, Bobby was enjoying his victory.
John, now sitting up on the bed, glared at Bobby with mock fury, though the corners of his mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile. “You’re a dead man, Drake. You know that, right?”
Bobby shrugged, completely unfazed. “Worth it.”
With a final laugh, Bobby darted out of the room, leaving John behind to plan his revenge. Whatever came next, Bobby was ready for it. But for now, he’d relish in the fact that he’d gotten the best of John once again.
For now, at least.
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