3 AM
by Cosmic
DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Marvel and all that. I’m just playing with them. Just a little bit of almost fluffiness here. Thanks to DE and Obie for their help. Feedback, as always, would be appreciated. :)
RATING: PG-13 for language. I can completely see her point, though. Because it’s 3 frelling am in the morning...
DEDICATED: To Threnny. *snugs*
Hello.
This better be good. This better be about En Sabah Nur attacking you and eating your liver and using your techno-organic hand as a satellite dish.
Fuck. Off. It’s 3 fucking AM in the morning. Why are you calling me? No, wait, I don’t want to hear it. I just don’t.
I don’t care. I don’t care if your car broke down. I don’t care if Remy’s occupying your usual brooding spot. Get yourself another one. Use your powers of X-Manness and go do good. By hanging up the phone.
Fuck you.
No, I *don’t* want to talk about it.
Nate, just hang up the goddamn phone.
Because I’m expecting another call any minute now.
Yes, Nathan, I know it’s 3 AM. I just told you so, didn’t I? I have a life you know. And I am. I’m expecting to hear about...my date.
Yes! At 3 am. Do you think there’s something odd about that?
Well, who asked you!
That’s not the point, you jackass.
All right. What do you want to tell me. I’m waiting.
I’m still waiting.
...
Nate?
You bastard. You almost scared me.
Almost, but no cigar.
No, you moron, I haven’t started up *smoking*. It’s an expression!
I’m not smoking! Fuck, Nate, get off the high pedestal of morality already. I know smoking’s bad. Go lecture the kids. I think Sam’s started smoking something. That, or the boy’s just getting really fast. -- Or better yet, go lecture your ‘boss’.
...
Oh, don’t you dare get all huffy on me, you bastard. I’m not your camp counselor and I’m certainly not your keeper. I don’t care if Remy’s not being nice to you, I don’t care if he stole the last cup of coffee right from your hand when you weren’t looking. Why weren’t you looking?
Oh. Well, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass.
An expression, Nathan! I swear to god I’ll kill you if you start asking things like that from me again, just because I’m getting a headache. And you’re three thousands miles away from me.
No, I didn’t mean that.
...
I’m going to hang up, now.
I really am.
Really.
I swear to God, Nate, if you don’t answer in two seconds...
Nate?
Nathan?
NATHAN?!
Stop doing that, it’s not funny.
Yes, I’m still angry at you.
So why did you call?
What?
WHAT?! My old sweater was destroyed in the latest battle against some supervillain with a geeky costume? That’s your reason for calling at 3 am?
It *wasn’t* destroyed by a supervillain?
You poured coffee on it and couldn’t get it normal colored or shaped again after you washed it?
*That*’s your reason for calling me at this ungodly time.
I don’t care. Go save a kitten that’s stuck in a tree or something.
We’ve been over this before. Here’s how the conversation goes. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’ ‘But I want to annoy you to death by telling it anyway.’ ‘Say you’re sorry.’ ‘I can’t. It’s against my religion.’ ‘Then explain yourself.’ ‘I can’t. That would go against my broody do-gooder X-Man savior of the world persona. And I’m petty like that, because I know I was wrong and you were right and I should be down on my knees begging for your forgiveness, or at least donate you a great deal money and a new sports-car. But I can’t. Woes me, the poor angst ridden Cable with the too many names.’ Then I hang up the phone.
Yes, I *am* indeed mocking you. You just now got that?
...
WHAT?
Could you repeat what you just said?
No, before that.
You’re sorry? Wow. I guess... okay. I can forgive you.
That means you’re forgiven. As long as it never happens again.
But it’s still one of my favorite TV shows and you can’t just tape Terminator on the rerun tape just because you can’t find any other tape.
The A-Team did *not* suck. You’re just jealous at my ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ at the handsome men with Tabby. You’re also extremely jealous because Mr. T has more metal on him than you do.
Yeah. And I was very dignified doing that, too. And you have lousy taste in programs anyway, so you can’t say anything about the subject that would matter at all.
You are? No wonder I had a headache.
Nothing. Let me buzz you in. Then you can *really* start apologizing to me...
~fin