EXCERPTS

EXCERPTS (5 of 8)
Shame is for the Weak, Part 1

Bobby/Hank
4325 words

Characters copyright and property of Marvel Comics Group. Story and plot copyright 2002 Blu Fiction and property of Atomic Fantasy – all rights reserved. Please contact the author for archive permission and feedback.

Shame is dedicated to the obsessed.

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Driving down the empty two-lane highway, in the middle of I don't even know where, all I can think about is the racing sound my own heart makes, loud enough to beat out the wheels of the jeep. So loud that all I can hear is the thundering pulse in my ears. So I pull over and stop, get out of the car and throw up over the side of the guardrail, down a long steep slope into a bunch of mud at the bottom, with leaves poking out of it at odd angles. I'm not sick, not really. Just want my heart ot feel better. Just want that feeling back - the one I only get when I'm totally absorbed in something and the rest of the world passes me by, taking its worries and its problems with it. I think maybe I should live in a house in the mountains, with no one around and nobody to bother me. Just me and that fresh mountain air, and I can do whatever I want - walk around naked in a rainstorm if I wanted. I'd be alone, sure - but anything is preferable to what I'm feeling in my heart right now.

Slowly I climb back into the jeep and buckle up my seatbelt. Don't even know why I bother. It's not as if it would matter. No. I won't think that way. I'm not going to let that get me. I might live until I'm ninety and I might be miserable the whole time but I'll be damned if this is going to get me. I don't know what the future holds. Myabe there is someone in it for me. Maybe not one of my teammates. I try to imagine what it would be like to not think about the team, to not think about being a mutant, to never have met Xavier and to not know what it's like to be hated.

I'm driving down the raod now and it's dark, the pavement black and smooth, shining wet in my headlights. It's not raining but it was. I'm soaked. The air smells nice, though, and it isn't exactly cold. On another day I might have taken my shirt off and turned up the radio, smiling at the air and honking at any cute bicyclers I passed. As it is this place has no bikers and the mood oppresses me, the big trees with dark leaves and low boughs, drooping from all the moisture they've just been flooded with, makes me feel claustrophobic. I can't really imagine what it would be like to live a normal life. It's frustrating for me to try so I give up trying to think about it and instead my mind goes back to him.

It wasn't right for him to do that. He didn't have to be that way about it. It hurt me. I guess what hurts me worse though is that he didn't do anything afterward. Just went on his way.

My companion stirs in the back seat where I've stuffed him unceremoniously - hey, he wanted to sleep. One big foot comes up first and then the other and then all the bulk that is my best friend, Hank McCoy, slides forward and is then sitting next to me.

"Goodness. Where are we?" he asks, blinking his eyes and putting on his spectacles.

"Heading back," I say.

"To Salem?" he blinks, this time directing it at me although I don't acknowledge him.

"Where else?"

He's quiet for a minute and then, "Gee. Wake up on the wrong side of the tent did you, Bobby?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Ok."

And then we just drive on for an hour or so, the darkness staying the same pitch black, the trees hanging low the whole time. At least I'm not totally alone. Hank is with me. I know he knows something isn't right. I'm sure he doesn't have a clue as to its cause. He probably thinks he did something wrong.

I've known Hank since I was 14. He's older than me. By 7 years. We were never on the same level. He's bigger than me by about 2 of myself. He's smarter than me by about 5 of my IQ's. OK well maybe not that much. But he's a genius, and I - as he points out so often - am not. It's odd. Now that I'm 23 and he's nearly 30, we are finally catching up to eachother. Oh - I'm still the joker and he's still the tightwad, but I'm starting to understand where he comes from. I can actually talk about politics with him, now.

But he still looks at me like the kid brother. I guess he always will. And I guess I don't have much to argue against that with, since I'll pretty much always see him as my older brother. Hank knows everything about me. I don't think I know so much about him. I used to wonder if maybe there just wasn't much to him except that what you see is what you get. I'm still not sure. Over the years I've come to notice though that he does keep secrets. Not about other people, of course. Except mine. But he has them about himself. For himself.

The first one I found out was that Hank, our mild mannered doctor, keeps an extensive porn collection. Now this really doesn't surprise me - not now, anways - because my own goes from wall to wall of my ct sht shelf. But Hank? I mistakenly stumbled across it when I was looking for a magazine. It wasn't my fault - the dumbass had told me it was in the third drawer down. How was I supposed to know he meant the desk and not the dresser? I needed the magazine to write a science report due the next day for the Professor. Instead I ended up gorging myself on porn.

But the secrets didn't stop, there. Hank also turned out to be quite the exhibitionist. I had always wondered why he had preferred skimpy blue underwear to a more full-sized uniform. I guess he said the same about me - but at least I had a reason. I mean, a guy who turns to ice can't really be choosy about clothing. Wearing speedos is the easiest thing for me. But him? He weighs 355 pounds and he hulks it around in boxer trunks! I'm probably just jealous. A man shouldn't be born with so many gifts.

I learned just how much he liked to show off when he ame into my room one night bare-ass naked, eating a Twinkie. He proceeded to sit down on MY bed and watch MY TV. When I asked him what he was doing he said simply: 'Catching the late news.' I learned better. What else did I find with that porn collection of his? Naked pictures of him - posing for himself in front of the camera. Talk about a vain bastard!

Still. He is my best friend. Aside from his few odd quirks he's probably about the normalest healthiest person alive on this planet.

I realize as we drive that thinking about him has made my mood turn for the better. That makes me happy, so I reach over and pat him in a friendly way on his leg.

"What was the for, Robert?"

I just turn and smile at him. "Nothin'."

"It didn't seem like it was for nothing."

\k cak can't you just accept it for once?"

"Bobby 45 minutes ago you looked ready to throw yourself down a cliff and now you are petting me and smiling. What am I supposed to accept, anyway?"

"I dunno ... just - like - accept it. IT. Everything. People need to learn to do that, don't you think?"

"Well I,"

"Hank you know I'm right. I mean if everyone just fought for everything then what would be the point to life?"

"Ummm, Bobby, I,"

"Don't argue with me, Hank. I know you agree."

"Well not,"

I give him a look that says I don't want any arguments, not with the mood I just came out of, and not from my best friend who I KNOW could out argue me any day of the week, especially with the very flawed analysis of life that I just gave him. I give him a look that says 'just listen'.

We pull into Xavier's and I take the jeep around to the garages in the back. Hank and I unpack silently and then start to walk back to the house. I'll never understand why the garages have to be so damn FAR. One thing is nice about it though - Hank is in front of me, and even though he's my best friend and even though I've seen him naked before - something about the way his tight rear-end moves in those shorts, and the way those back muscles flex under the weight of his dufflebag, which he has propped on his broad shoulders, makes me hot.

"You owe me a swim, don't forget," I say.

"What?" he tunrs around. "Oh that. We're still on?"

"We had a bet, Big Blue. You said it wasn't gonna storm while we camped. I said it was."

"Yes, ever the pessimist."

"ANYWAYS. Guess what, hon? I won. You - in the pool."

"Bobby you can't really expect -"

"Yes. I can."

"But you know what it does t fur fur."

"You know you really are a whiner, sometimes, Hank."

"Better than being a weiner watcher."

"What did you say?"

"Oh nothing."

"Get in the pool before I decide to freeze you in it as well, furball."

We've come to the pool now, and we're going up the deck stairs. The deck leads to the double doors going into the kitchen and I'm hoping somebody or a lot of somebodies will be in the kitchen to see Hank dive in. Unfortunately, when we reach the top, the lights are off and it doesn't even look like anyone is home at all. Well, I'm still going to get my fun.

Hank looks as if he's going to try and just walk in, but I make a slick jet of ice under his feet, where some water from the pool has puddled up, and he falls flat on his big blue back.

A sigh leaves him. "Bobby, really. Don't you think we could do this tomorrow?"

"What? You mean you want to do it when everyone is home and likely swimming in the pool, too? Ok. Fine with me. I wanted to do it now but if you really want to wait we can it's not a -"

"Alright. You got me."

I throw him a superior smile. "In."

He gets himself off the ground slowly and I almost feel bad about putting the ice under him, until I remember all the times he's looked at me with that smug mug of his, on some intellectual point or other that he won. He creeps over to the pool and gingerly tests it with one toe first. I can't help but snort with laughter.

"Man, what a wimp! Poor big man can't get into the cold swimming pool! HAHA!"

He looks over at me almost timidly. "You won't freeze it will you?"

"Oh come on, Hank! You don't really think that little of me do you?"

"I KNOW you, Robert. I don't need to think anything."

"Just get in already, fuzzbutt."

He arches a brow at my name but doesn't say anything. With a sigh of what I can only hear as regret that his fur will be green for the next three days, he slips one leg in and then the other, and soon, his whole bulk is in water up to just above his chest.

"Happy?"

"No. The rest, now."

He almsot looks ready to complain again but seems to remember that I can drop the temperature pretty quick and stays silent instead. I see one hand working underneath the water, undoing the buttons on his Hawaiin shirt. Soon it comes off and I take it from him, laying it down next ot me.

"NOW?" he asks.

"Hank," I warn him with a smile and a finger. "You know the deal."

"Really, I seem to have forgotten, Bobby I think that was ll there was to it -"

"AH - Ah ah ah ah," I shake my finger at him. "ALL of it."

He sighs once more and mumbles something about getting himself into things, but I see him moving. It's getting dark and the steam from the pool is making it harder to see, but soon he holds up his shorts on one finger and a splash of dripping water. I take those as well and set them next to the shirt.

"How long will it take?"

"It should be already enough."

"I give it 10 more minutes, then."

"You're really going to rub this in aren't you?"

"Oh yeah."

I feel weird just standing there looking at him, so I get down and decide to put my feet in the water while we wait. Hank comes over to me, looking serious now.

"So. Do you want to tell me what happened that you were so somber about, before?"

I'm quiet for a minute and then, my chin resting on one knee, one hand dangling in the water next to my other knee, I start talking, quietly. All my kick has gone out of me all of a sudden and I almost want to cry.

"It was just ... you know, Hank. Normal stuff. I want someone else I can't have."

"Who?"

The cool thing about Hank is that he can be a complete ass one second and then go into best friend-who-loves-you-more-than-anything mode the next. He is the only person I could ever trust to tell these things to. Coming out to him was the hardest thing I ever did, and also the best. He's never betrayed me or said anything about it to anyone else.

"Logan."

"Ahhh. I see." He's quiet. Not condescending. Just listening and acknowledging. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Nothing at all. That's the problem, Hank. It's always nothing. I feel like there is never going to be anyone out there for me. All the people I know are here at Xavier's. This IS my life, and it probably always will be for as long as the X-Men are around - and let's face it, Hank, we both know that neither of us is going anywehre anytime soon."

Hank was quiet for a little bit. "Maybe you could go somewhere for a while, then."

I snorted. "Where?"

"It was only a suggestion, Bobby. Don't be mad at me."

I suddenly felt bad. I looked at him, and he was looking at me with that sort of look that Hank only gets when you've hurt his feelings - he never says anything when his feelings get hurt and his face hardly changes at all - but he gets this kinda look around his eyes. I can just tell.

"Awww shit. Get out, Hank. Bet's done."

"No I'm going to finish it."

"Get out!"

Then I feel really bad because I shouted at him and I didn't even have a reason for it. He was only trying to help - to be my friend. God I'm such an ass sometimes.

He's climbing out slowly, not saying anything and not looking at me. I get up and get a towel from over at the side, and then hold it out for him between both my hands.

"Here. Lemme dry you off."

He obliges me without much of a fuss. I secretly think he likes being touched and groomed. And I can't say that I don't like it, myself. I start at his back, at those big round shoulders of his, and hen move down over the shoulder blades and heavy corded muscles to his spine, then I move to the front of him.

As I dry off his front side, paying attention to my work and also lost in myn own thoughts, I don't realize him looking at me. I dry off first one big bicep and tthe the other, then I run the now very wet towel over his chest. I toss it down and get another, and finish drying his firm pectorals and a rippling abdomen.

It's not until I move up to dry off his hair that I realize I'm smiling, and that he's smiling because I'm smiling. It's totally dark out now and there isn't much light around us at all, except for the soft glow of the pool lights under the water. They make ripples on his body and on his face and I can't help but laat tat the sudden silliness ofour situation.

"You know," he says to me, grinning in his embarrassed way, "I don't think, Robert, that you and I, in all our years as teammates, have ever been quite THIS intimate."

I don't know what to say so I just chuckle and move back around to his other side, making sure he is as dry as he can be. Paying close attention to his neckline and shoulders and the back of his head where his hair is more coarse. And all of a sudden I realize that I'm excited - over Hank. It takes a second for the feeling to sink in, but once it does - man, I'm in it full force. Hank seems to look better and better with every second that goes by.

"No ... I," I can hardly get the words out. My mouth is next to his left ear, my hands on both shoulders, the towel dropped somewhere along the way and I'm not thinking about drying him anymore. I finally manage to whisper out the rest of my sentence, and a sigh comes out of me sounding kinda more like a - moan, I guess. "I don't think we have been."

Hank hasn't moved and doesn't look like he's really sure about what's going on. It flashes briefly in the back of my mind that maybe he doesn't want to move. I don't twant to think about him moving so I leave the thoughts for another time.

Right now, I don't care. And Hank still hasn't moved. But I'm not crazy enough yet to completely molest my best friend! I will be in about a minute, though. So I test him by running my hand down the front of him, down to where I know is below his belly and just above something else. I can already feel him growing hot, when I press my front side to his naked back. Not hard. Just a brief touch. I take in a silent breath as I move back away and wait to see his reaction. He's silent, but I can see his shoulders rising and falling rapidly, and I know Hank. He's nervous. He's trying to take deep breaths and calm himself down - well he only does that when he's nervous. Oh - I've seen it plenty of times at movie theaters, too - he huffs when he's excited.

But he still hasn't moved and he hasn't spoken, either. And I know that in McCoy terms, anything less than a denial is permission. One thing about Hank - he never could lie very well. I remembered those stolen Twinkies way back when we first joined ...

His arms have tensed into balls of muscle and sinew and I can see his whole body is tensed in the same way. He's either going to take off or he's going to turn around and beat me. I knew it. I knew I shouldn't . H. He's pissed, now. I was scared. I hadn't seen him like that before.

I decide that there isn't anything I can do. I turn and walk away.

"Robert."

The single word said in a deadly quiet tone stops me in my tracks. He's madder than I thought.

"Yeah Hank." My voice is hardly a breath above a dry whisper. My mouth has gone dry and my hands are shaking. WHy did I do it? Why did I have to ruin things with the only person I had to talk to - to trust in? Just like everything else in my life.

I walk to him, resigned now to what I must face. I did it. I deserve it. I have no one to blame but myelf. That's what I know. That's what I learned when I was a kid. No one but yourself, Bobby.

"Where were you going?"

"I'm sorry, Hank, I ... I'm sorry." What more could I say? Words wouldn't work. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Why did everything have to hurt so damn much? I didn't complain about my life. I just wondered why I had it, sometimes.

Hank still stood where I left him, hadn't moved. His back was to me. His voice came out soft but clear and deep. "It wasn't Logan you were upset about was it?"

... "No."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to say, Hank?" I can feel the tears threatening to break loose. Nuh uh. Ain't gonna let ya!

He finally turns around to face me but the sight of him before me, looking like ... he does ... It rips my heart out and throws it one the ground and stomps all over it. You'll NEVER have that. Grow up, you little boy FUCK you. GROW UP.

And I can't fight them so I just let them come out, finally. Except they won't - I've trained my emotions too well to hide any kind of sadness, so they don't come out. Thanks dad. I just choke and my eyes burn from the salt.

"God dammit, Bobby."

I hardly know what's going on but I'm suddenly in Hank's arms, and I think I'm the one crying but I'm not, it's Hank sobbing at my ear. All I can feel is his warmth and the shaking of his gibodybody even while he holds me.

"Hank ... ?" I weakly manage. What is going on?

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice is thick. He's muffled in my shirt. I can feel the heat of his speech on my neck and his rough and soft cheek on the skin there. "Why didn't you say anything?" His voice is dropped to a whisper but what am I supposed to say ...

So I don't say anything, but I put my arms around him like I've known I always wanted to, and I hug him. Not like I hug him at the holidays or after a trip - a real hug. Harsh, deep, and true. He pushes my face away in his hands and just looks at me. I forget sometimes about his eyes. Now I can't look away.

"I was ... I was ashamed, Hank. You're my best friend and you're like my older brother. I ... I'm not - supposed to have - to think about you, that way. So I always put it aside - buried it deep somewhere I don't know where. I - it was better that way."

"No ... I know. But dammit Hank - what good does it do to think about, huh? Huh!?" I'm almost shouting at him. I feel like I'm hysterical almost but I can't do anything to stop it and I'm flooded. My body is flooded with all the shit that's been going on between me and the world.

"Why do you think it's better?"

"You won't love me, Hank - no matter how much I want that."

"Bobby ..." he's looking at me and talking quiet and I can see the brotherly kind of tears come into his eyes ... "Bobby I ... I ..."

And then it's like a wall all at once his lips are on mine and they aren't weak. They press in hard and ferocious and I let them come in. I let him into me and I let him pull me close. I'm not fighting at all. God if this is a dream DON'T let me wake up. It's not though. I don't care. He's pushme dme down. Down to the wood of the deck, hard under me.

I can feel him lying hard atop me. I can only stare into those nightshade eyes. He's looking fierce and he's looking wild and I feel the same. We aren't teammates or friends. We aren't lovers, either. We aren't just experimenting and we aren't caring about what we're doing. We are just doing it.

"Hank, just ... don't - don't stop. And when you do. Don't talk to me."

"I want to talk to you. We've never talked before. It occurs to me that in our 7 years together we've never talked." His breath is hot on me and his voice low and urgent, sounding pained and exhausted but I know it's not that at all.

"It doesn't matter, H-"

"Yes. It does. I've been wanting to talk to you, Robert - for - a long time ... without any words."

*****

Hank and I didn't talk the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. We went camping again and wen'tn't talk the whole time.

We talk now. Nothing's forever. Except friendship. I'm glad I have his, and maybe - sometime, we'll stop talking again. And we'll just listen to our hearts beating to sounds of beasts making love in the night.

Damn. Maybe I should stop talking to him sooner. I'm getting way too fucking poetic for my own good. Asshole.

~Drake~ Oct. 20th

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