Title: Last Man Standing

Author: Jocelyn (jdog985@hotmail.com), Navaeh, and Sandy

Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
WARNING: DO NOT read if the idea of the X-men getting falling-down drunk disturbs you.

Pairing: Scott/Jean

Disclaimer: The X-men belong to Brian Singer and Marvel Comics and I am not making any money off of this story. I don't have any money to begin with, so please don't sue me!

Author's Notes: See, this is what happens when you walk out of a movie theater at midnight after overdosing on popcorn and caffeine! It's an answer to one of those crazy little questions: "If all the X-men went to a bar, who would pass out first?" I must extend much co-author credit to my sister Navaeh and our friend Sandy for their input on this story. If this story appears to have a huge number of typos, it's actually my attempt to write alcohol-slurred words.

AU: Please Note that this story was written weeks after the FIRST movie came out. (It's taken me this long to get around to posting it here!) I am aware that the arrival of X-2 has now rendered it AU, but what the heck.

* Denotes unspoken thought by characters

Part I: The mansion…

Logan swore to himself as he rummaged through the last of the toolboxes in the mansion garage. Who'd have thought Mr. "Neat-As-A-Pin-With-Everything-In-It's-Place" would've managed to hide his keys so well. He stared longingly at Scott Summers' motorcycle, the keys to which were the object of his search. It was really sort of funny; Cyclops used to just leave the keys with the bike, since it would take someone with a sledgehammer (or mutant pulverizing power) to break into the garage from the outside. But now, Ol' Tightass had evidently decided that the biggest threat came from within, and that left Wolverine without his favorite mode of transportation. "Guess I purloined the damn thing once too often," Logan muttered, and headed back into the mansion.

Now, the question was where to hunt for Cyclops' keys and still avoid running into Cyclops. Logan wandered the halls aimlessly until Ororo Monroe came out of one of the classrooms with an armload of essays. On a whim, he exclaimed, "Hey, Storm, you seen Cyclops anywhere?"

"I saw him heading down to the infirmary, why?"

"Uh, Jean was looking for him."

"I guess she found him; he was with her."

"Oh, okay." Logan gave Storm a little wave. "Have fun grading papers," he added nonchalantly, and headed back down the hall. *Okay, so Cyke's downstairs with the redhead, that leaves the upstairs for me to explore.*

He left their bedroom as a last resort—somehow the idea of rifling through Scott and Jean's underwear didn't exactly appeal to Wolverine, *well, Jean's might be fun, but I doubt Cyclops'd hide the keys in them.* Instead, Logan found a likely target, a little den that served as Scott's office in the school. The door was unlocked, and he slipped inside to find a room so perfectly organized that it made the Library of Congress look cluttered. There were several keys, hanging on nails from the bookshelf covering one wall, but the motorcycle key wasn't among them. Gritting his teeth in disappointment, Logan absently glanced over the books. The Collective Works of Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, several dozen plays and classics that Logan had never heard of, Webster's Dictionary, English to French Dictionary, English to Spanish Dictionary, French to Spanish, Spanish to French, The Elements of Grammar, The Elements of Writing Style, War and Peace, The entire Encyclopedia Britannica, The Disciplined Mind *hah! If that guy got any more disciplined, he'd be a robot!* and Today's English Grammar and Composition.

"He has no life. He REALLY has no life," Wolverine muttered in disbelief and turned his attentions to Scott's desk.

Top drawer: six perfectly sharpened pencils, four pens, the keys…to the other drawers. Damn!

Second drawer: English essays and English gradebook. No keys.

Third drawer: French tests, Spanish tests, French and Spanish gradebooks. No keys.

Fourth drawer: Mechanics assignments, two Mechanics books, Mechanics gradebook. No keys.

Fifth drawer: a Discman and some CD's—hey! Logan leafed through them. Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, the Boston Philharmonic—this was ridiculous! Hey, wait a minute…BRITNEY SPEARS?!?! There was a post-it note stuck to that one: "Return to Bobby next Friday." *Aw, man, I thought I had something!* Still no keys.

Sixth drawer—locked. He unlocked it to find nothing inside except what looked like one of those self-help books that never seemed to go out of style. "Let me guess, Chicken Soup for the Mutant Soul." Logan turned it over and gaped. The title read You Suck, by J.J. Sharpe. "What the hell?!" This just didn't add up to Cyke's taste in literature. He opened the book and smothered a laugh; on the inside cover was written, "You need a little spice in your reading material. This should help. Love, Jean."

Logan closed the book, laughing, "I knew there was no way he'd have bought that." He put the book back and started to close the drawer, then rearranged it with the title facing down, the same way he had found it. Slim would be the one to notice something like that.

Wolverine ambled down the hall toward the Summers-Grey bedroom only to find it occupied by both of its residents. "To hell with it, looks like I'm taking one of the cars," he grumbled and headed back to the garage.