Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie > Days of the Phoenix

A Time for Twinkies

by Plutospawn 0 reviews

"Shut up!" Scott demanded. "You have no right to talk about Professor Xavier. You ran off like a coward years ago."

Category: X-Men: The Movie - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure - Characters: Cyclops - Published: 2005-09-03 - Updated: 2005-09-04 - 1868 words

"When I'm drivin' in my car and that man comes on the radio!" Hank crooned. The doctor's lips were pursed in a pale imitation of Mick Jagger's. "And he's tellin' me more and more about some useless information."
Trish giggled. "What ever happened to singing Britney Spears?" she asked.
Hank frowned. "I promised to stop that." He flashed a devious grin. "But I promised nothing in regards to the Stones."
With that, the doctor turned the radio's volume up. It was just in time for the next verse.
Bobby, stuck on the doctor's examination table in boxers and an undershirt, heaved a sigh. When he arrived in the medical bay he had expected a routine physical. What he had received was something more cringe worthy.
Aside from Dr. McCoy's performance, Bobby also was privileged to an audience of one Ms. Trish Tilby, a fairly attractive older woman who giggled while he was trapped in his underwear. Suffice it to say, Bobby Drake wanted to die of embarrassment.
Bobby cleared his throat. "I just had a physical a little while ago," he protested weakly.
"I'm sure you did." Dr. McCoy didn't sound swayed. "But I highly doubt that you had a Hank McCoy certified, indorsed by Trish Tilby, mutant-centric physical, now have you?"
Bobby answered with a morose sigh.
"So, you're the Iceman?" Dr. McCoy questioned as he inserted an otoscope into Bobby's ear.
Bobby gave the doctor and sidelong glance and nodded.
"What does that entail?" Hank asked.
"What do you mean?" Bobby asked.
Dr. McCoy put his otoscope away. He began to press the head of his stethoscope against Bobby's chest. "Well, you freeze things," Hank reiterated. "Are there any limitations? If something's too big can you not freeze it? Do you need what you're freezing to be water based or can it be anything? Take a deep breath."
"I don't know," Bobby admitted. "I haven't really played with my power all that much."
"So freezing the professor's Olympic sized swimming pool doesn't constitute as playing?" Hank muttered. "Okay, next question. Do you experience any sort of physical change when using your power? A difference in the way irises appear is common."
"No. Not that I know of," Bobby said. "Am I done now?"
Hank glanced at his stethoscope and let it fall against his chest. "Almost. I want to have some blood work in my records."
"Is that really necessary?" Bobby asked. "I'm O."
"A severely mutated O," Dr. McCoy replied. "I want a sample to run some tests. Mad scientist stuff, I'm sure you understand."
Bobby groaned as the doctor wrapped the rubber tourniquet around the teenager's upper arm. Hank quickly filled two vials with the Iceman's blood before he grinned at the boy. "You're free to go."
Bobby mumbled something under his breath, but quickly gathered his clothing. A smirk was very obviously plastered across Trish's face as she watched the boy leave.
Once they were alone in the medical bay, Trish crept behind Hank and wrapped her arms around his middle. His glasses were perched dangerously low on the tip of his nose as the doctor perused his paperwork.
"Almost done, handsome?" she asked.
Her breath was hot on his ear and Hank smiled. He turned to face Trish and set the paperwork on a countertop. "As much as I appreciate you keeping me company since Warren ruthlessly abandoned me, I told you I'd bore you to tears," Hank said.
"Ruthlessly?" Trish raised an eyebrow. "The man's on a date. Let your assistant have fun once in a while. Who's he seeing anyway?"
Hank shrugged. "Candy? Betsy? Alison? Who knows? As long as he's not seeing anyone ten years his junior I could care less."
Trish laughed. "So, tell me, Dr. McCoy," she said. "When are you going to have a 'hot date' next?"
"I have three more students to check out, but afterwards I'd gladly be at your beck and call," he replied.
"I like the sound of that." Trish grinned. "I think what you're doing at this school is really sweet."
"Not that I considered how sweet I would be for taking this job," Hank said. "But I'm glad you like it."
"Do you think that maybe Professor Xavier would let me interview him and maybe some of the other faculty?" she asked.
"You'd have to ask Professor Xavier," Hank answered.
Trish nodded as she pulled Hank closer to her. Hank sighed as the high pitched trill of Trish's cell phone erupted from her pants' pocket. Trish held a finger up for silence as she answered her call. "Yeah?" She still looked up at Hank, but her eyes lost their focus. "Uh huh... Really? I'll be right there."
As she hung up, Trish gave Hank an apologetic glance.
"Work?" Hank wasn't asking.
Trish smiled and kissed his cheek. "A suspected arson in the exact location that Graydon Creed planned to have a political rally."
"I suppose you'll call me later." Hank smirked.
"If it's not too late," Trish replied.
Hank chuckled as his girlfriend hurried from the medical bay. As she left, Trish nearly ran Scott over right outside the doorway. Scott glanced through the door and rapped his knuckles along the doorframe.
"It's open," Hank called out.
"I just came to see how you were doing." Scott cleared his throat.
"Oh?" Hank asked. He turned the radio off. "Did the professor send you to check up on me?"
"You mean spy on you?" Scott asked. "No. I just thought I'd see how you were doing."
"I see." Hank began to shuffle through a random pile of paperwork.
"So, are you done with the students' physicals yet?" Scott began to study an asthma diagram on the wall.
"No." Hank answered. The doctor picked up a list on the top of his massive paper pile. "I have three students left. Jubilation Lee, Roberto DaCosta and Saint John Allerdyce."
"John?" Scott's head jerked up. He forced his eyes to focus back on the diagram. "No. You don't have to worry about John."
"But I do have to worry about the other two." Hank raised an eyebrow. "I already had the pleasure of trying to take a blood sample from Mr. DaCosta earlier. As you can see, his name is still on my 'to do' list."
"You know, things have really changed since you left," Scott said.
"I doubt it," Hank replied. "I'm sure that Xavier is still collecting ragamuffin strays and deluding himself into believing that a peaceful coexistence between mutant and man can occur."
Scott didn't answer. Instead he walked over to the tray of blood samples. He pulled them out one by one and began to sort them in alphabetical order.
"Scott," Hank said.
The muscles along Scott's shoulders stiffened.
"I never said how sorry I was about-"
"It's okay," Scott cut him off briskly.
"I didn't know," Hank continued. "I would have called. I should have been there for the funeral. For you."
"I said it was okay," Scott insisted.
Hank nodded solemnly. "So, how have you been?" he asked.
"I'm alive," Scott said. "That's a start."
"It's a rather meager start if you ask me," Hank replied. "Tell me, what do you feel about Xavier now? About his dream?"
"I'm still here, aren't I?" Scott's voice was deadly quiet.
"Don't lie to me, Scott," Hank murmured. The doctor began to scribe notes onto a file labeled 'Robert Drake.' "I've known you for too long. Don't insult me."
Scott sighed and Hank rolled a chair over to his friend. The leader of the X-Men slumped down into the seat and appeared as small as his six foot plus frame would allow.
"I tried to leave," Scott admitted. "But not because of what you're thinking. It had nothing to do with the professor. It's just that everything here reminds me of her."
"Why didn't you leave?" Hank asked.
"Well, I did," Scott replied. "Only, on my way out, I nearly ran over that girl."
"Rachel?" Hank set his pen aside.
"Rachel's fine. Why don't you leave now?" Hank pressed.
"I don't know." It took Scott only a moment to dig up excuses. "She's still so skinny. I feel like it's my responsibility to look after her. I found her."
"Rachel's proven to be resilient so far. She can look after herself," Hank countered. "Who's going to look after Scott Summers?"
"That's ridiculous." Scott shook his head.
Hank raised an eyebrow. "Is it?" he asked. "The reasoning you've given me for staying is flimsy at best. Perhaps it's because she resembles Jean?"
"What are you talking about?" Scott scoffed. "If that isn't the most ludicrous, harebrained, nonsensical-"
"But it's true, isn't it?" Hank interrupted. "Sure, her eyes are a little different and her cheeks still have some rounded baby fat despite being undernourished, but look at that jaw line and those lips. Do I even have to mention the red hair?"
"Shut up." Scott stood up and pointed a threatening finger at Hank.
"Do I have a point?" Hank whispered.
"I said shut up," Scott snarled.
"Who's being nonsensical now?" Hank asked. "You're worthless right now. You need to take time off, grieve. Instead, you're following around this child, pretending that one redhead can easily replace another. I'll tell you right now that it can't. Maybe Xavier can sit around and watch you deteriorate, but I can't because you're my friend and I'm worried-"
Any other words that Hank had planned to use were stopped by Scott's fist. Scott shook his hand and stared at it as though his very fingers had a mind of their own. When he looked back at Hank, his brows were knotted with fury.
"Shut up!" Scott demanded. "You have no right to talk about Professor Xavier. You ran off like a coward years ago."
"If I am a coward it's because I lacked the strength to fight at Magneto's side." Hank fingered the blood that oozed from his broken lip.
"Magneto wouldn't waste his time spitting at a mutant who's ashamed of having an X-gene," Scott accused.
"And you're proud of being a mutant?" Hank asked. "Or do you just pretend because if you try to blend in with Homo sapiens you risk having something happening to your ruby quartz glasses and being outed?"
"I will not deny what I am," Scott vowed.
Hank lowered his blue eyes from Scott's deep red glasses and slowly nodded. "I'm just a doctor now," he murmured. "I get to do what I do best and if pretending to be human allows me to continue doing what I do best, then I'll pretend."
"And I'll keep working so that you won't have to always pretend," Scott said.
Hank chuckled. "Not tonight, however."
"What are you talking about?" Scott asked.
"You need a box of Twinkies and a case of beer tonight," Hank replied.
"That sounds disgusting," Scott said.
"It won't sound so bad once I get that case of beer in you." Hank grinned.
"I don't know," Scott waffled. "I should... There are things I need to do."
"Shut up," Hank answered.
Hank threw his large arm around Scott's shoulders and dragged the stammering man from the medical bay.
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