Cotton Sheets, Country Music and Clam Chowder
Summary: This will be a Bobby/Sam slash fic (BAM), eventually. I'm hoping that's enough to draw you in, but if it isn't, I promise danger, angst, and kissing. Yay! Rated PG, 'cause Bobby and me say some bad words. But not Sam, cause Sam's a good boy.
Chapter Summary: Basically, Sam's doing some thinking. And Sam's looking at half-naked Bobby. There's a moth in there somewhere that's suppose to be metaphorical but it just kinda makes Sam sound like a pussy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Someone else owns these characters. I'm too lazy to figure out whom exactly. Marvel and probably WB, since they seem to own everything. All I know is that I don't but do I wish I owned Sam 'cause he's a damn hottie. Oh and Bobby's good too I guess. But Sam…Yummy!
Author Notes: My writing is based primarily on Evolutions. I may or may not stay true to comic canon.
Chapter One: Change
Samuel Guthrie lay stretched out on his cot, fingers interlocked behind his head and toes dangling over the edge, staring up at the ceiling of his room. His room currently was no bigger than a closet and was buried two stories underground. Sam tried not to think about that last bit too much. It gave him the creeps.
Even since the mansion had been blown up by its own self-destruct sequence, the students and faculty had been living in an underground bunker, which had been untouched by the blast that had leveled the whole mansion.
None of the students, not even Jean and Scott, had known the place even existed. Sam figured the professor didn't want to worry his students. After all, had Sam known he might have been a little scared. Why would they need a bomb shelter at a school? Sam could understand the professor's discretion, though it was somewhat disconcerting to learn the gazebo was the entrance to this hidden bomb shelter. Of course, it was equally disconcerting to learn that your school could be blown up at the touch of the button.
Sam couldn't wait for the mansion to be rebuilt, minus, he hoped, the self-destruct button. Mostly, it would be nice to have windows again, and sunlight, and fresh air. Sam wouldn't even complain so much about Bobby leaving the windows wide open.
I wonder if this bunker can self-destruct. Sam thought and immediately wished he hadn't. The professor was probably right in keeping some things from them. But it was hard not to think of something when there was nothing else to do.
There was no homework because, there was no school. Although the professor was trying, the schools were not letting mutant students back into their classrooms. There was no training 'cause there was no Danger Room. That had been blown-up with the rest of the mansion. Clean-up and construction had ended at six, so there was no point asking if he could help out, not that anyone was likely to take him up on the offer since he had a tendency to break more than build. Supper, split into two shifts because there wasn't enough room for everyone to eat at once, was over. It was too early to go to bed. There was really nothing to do with himself.
Sam had started reading one of Bobby's comic books but it was in the middle of an arc and Sam had no idea who was who. So he abandoned that and started watching a suicidal moth dance around the light. How it had gotten two stories under ground, Sam couldn't guess. Poor thing, fluttering around the light, totally lost. He felt obliged to help it, maybe trap it in a glass and free it topside, but, before Sam could even begin to put his plan into motion, the moth got too close to the light, burnt its wing and fell down to the ground, never to fly again.
The sudden sadness that filled Sam was unexplainable. It's just a bug, he tried to tell himself, just an insect. But Sam was always softhearted, silly considering he grew up on a farm where you killed the animals for food. He even considered placing the moth's body into a Ziploc baggy, a plastic shroud.
His thoughts are suddenly broken as the door to the small room opened, admitting Bobby, wet and cursing, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Had he been anyone else, he would also have been shivering. He wasn't anyone else though. He was Iceman, and he was grumbling, mad at one of the girls for kicking him out of the shower.
Another downside to the bunker was one toilet and one shower, for 19 people, not counting the 2-9 extra Jamie's running around at any given time. At least the designer had enough sense to separate the toilet from the shower. A ten minute shower rule had been imposed, which was strictly adhered to due to the crowded conditions, conditions that were becoming less crowded by the week.
Rahne had already been sent home, at her parent's request and there were rumors that Jubilee, Jamie, Roberto or Kitty would be the next to go. Sam's money was on Jamie, him being the youngest and all. Not that Sam was completely confident that he wasn't about to be recalled home. Sam hadn't told anyone yet but his mother had sent him a letter. He could stay for now but that could change suddenly if his parents decided Xavier's school had become too dangerous.
He hadn't written back yet, he just received the letter this morning, but he was beginning to formulate his response. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. His friends were here and so was his school, if they ever let him back that is. Most important, his mutant abilities haven't been controlled as much as he would like.
Less than two feet away, Bobby dropped his towel and began to redress. Sam quickly diverted his eyes. Bobby had no modesty. It was simply a fact that Sam, like windows wide open in the middle of winter, had to get used to.
Since they had been roommates before the explosion, it made sense that they'd be bunk mates now. They already knew each others annoying quirks and habits. They were used to it, unlike poor Evan, who after always having a room to himself was now finding himself sharing a small space with Jamie.
Sam flicked his eyes upward briefly to test if it was safe to look. It was. Bobby was in his boxers, on his knees, looking under the bed for something to wear. Sam smiled at that. It was good to see Bobby acting like Bobby. Over the last couple of weeks he hadn't been acting completely like himself.
Sam was pretty sure Bobby Drake had changed. Somewhere between barely escaping an exploding mansion and being reunited with his friends, he had changed. Of all the "new recruits" he had been the only one to join the X-men. He had fought Juggernaut and prejudice while the rest of them had hid in the sewers.
Sam wasn't sure what to make of the new Bobby. He was a lot like the old Bobby. He was still full of himself, still a daredevil, still a brat and a prankster and, at times, a jerk. He was more confident, maybe. Not exactly more quiet. That simply wasn't possible with Bobby, no matter what had changed. Maybe attentive was the word Sam was looking for, like he was actually listening to what you were saying. But then he'd say something in jest, completely immature and stupid and he'd be back, Bobby again.
Bobby finally pulled out an over-sized t-shirt that didn't smell too bad and began to pull it on. Sam had to admit that Bobby wasn't bad looking. Boyish and mature at the same time, proportioned decently, none of the gangly too tall for his own good shit Sam seemed to be going through accompanied by a side of clumsy. Not to mention Bobby's friendly smile, that was welcoming to everyone, even those who were not the people he sought out as friends.
They hadn't been roommates by choice. In fact, Sam had been set up with Roberto and Ray with Bobby. (Jamie had received his own room because there could be so many of him at one time.) Sam and Roberto had gotten along, with minimal fuss and noise.
By comparison, Ray and Bobby were the loudest. They became instant friends, with a tendency to disagree. It didn't take too long (Two nights, to be exact) for everyone to realize that Ray and Bobby shouldn't be roommates. When they weren't up all night talking and roughhousing, they were shouting and punching. Which meant Sam moved in with Bobby and Ray moved in with Roberto. (This decision was somewhat arbitrary. It could just have easily ended up with Roberto and Bobby being roommates, except someone thought two Roberts in the same room might be confusing.)
This was fine with Sam and Bobby but caused resentment between Ray and Roberto. Roberto resented the invasion of his space. Ray resented having to move in with a "sulky baby." While Sam and Bobby complimented each other, Ray and Roberto clashed on almost every matter. And though they had gotten passed the point of blatant dislike, friendship was not exactly in the cards.
"Huh?" Sam said, shaking out of his thoughts by Bobby's voice, suddenly realizing Bobby was giving him a scrutinizing look, "What did you say?"
"I said, 'You're staring'. You're not turning into a fruitcake, are you? Cause if you are, you're sleeping in one of the girls' room."
"Sorry, Popsicle." Sam said, turning on to his left side, closing his eyes and trying to get to sleep, trying not to let Bobby's words bother him. They shouldn't. He wasn't a gay. And Bobby was always saying stuff like that. It never used to bother him, so it shouldn't now just like it shouldn't bother him that the moth's lifeless body was now crushed beneath Bobby's foot.
But it did. And Sam had a single fleeting thought before his mind turned to safer, less confusing arenas. Maybe Bobby wasn't they only one who had changed.
End of Chapter One
End Notes: Please review. What did you think? Any suggestions for improvement would be appreciated. -- Catalyst