Orange Peels: Smile

by Sparks

 

 


Author's note: This is the first of a series of stories and vignettes. 's a vignette, so non-series-readers can rest easy. =) If you like it, please feedback?? Also, kudos to K-Nice for beta-ing. Love you! This is just a little mainly happy advice fic. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me. *sniff* They Marvel's. Story's mine, though! An' no, I'm not makin' any money offa this. Sheeyeah, right...I wish...welp, here's the fluffage. =)


Tabitha Smith groaned as she sat up in her bed. ~Note to self: No food plus screwdriver equals one hell of a hangover...~ she mused to herself.

"I wonder what time it is...?" she wondered aloud, and fumbled around in the semi-darkness of her room for her lamp. Presently, the only light in the room came from the slim slits of golden-yellow that were slipping through her curtains. Eventually, her wandering fingers found the small switch of her orange lava lamp, and flicked it on. A soft glow filled the room, but that glow was enough to make Tabitha cry out in pain and bury her head underneath the covers once again. A hand outfitted in metallic pink nailpolish crawled hesitantly out from under the cacoon of bedding and made its way to her nightstand, leaching onto the sunglasses that rested there and quickly recoiling them back under the sheets. A spiky blonde bed-head poked out from underneath the mass and glanced at the red blaring light from its owners alarm clock.

"5:46p.m.?!" Tabitha exclaimed and bolted upright in bed, something she immediately regretted. "Owww..." she moaned, easing herself back down. Her head was throbbing, but she knew from past experiences with hangovers that they only remedy would be to get something to eat and something (non-alcoholic) drink.

She cursed herself for having snuck Emma's vodka in her orange juice at the X-Men's St. Patrick's Day party the night before. Or the day before, depending on how one looked at it. It had been quite an affair. Generation X had come up from Snow Valley, as had Excalibur from Scotland, before hand, and the moment the household arose was not-so-coincidently the same moment the festivities had begun, namely, drinking. Everyone (save for those underage) had brought something in the way of liquor, and by the next morning, which was when the party had finally toned down (i.e. - people had passed out), all of said bottles had been completely vacated.

Muttering and grumbling to herself, Tabitha slowly inched her way out of bed and staggared towards her closet, choosing to wear her favorite lived-in jeans and a pale yellow midriff-bearing top. Not even caring about her hair, she left the room...well, almost...

Even with the sunglasses firmly pirched on her head, the moment she opened the door her eyes were assaulted by what she thought to be 100 watts of pure hell and agony. Quickly, she covered her eyes and spun around to return with haste to her room. Unfortunately, in her temporarily blinded condition, she ended up missing the doorway and smacking into the wall, promptly causing her to fall flat on her ass.

Sam Guthrie looked quizzically and somewhat amused at the scene in the hallway. He himself had woken up only a couple of hours before, so the time at which Tab was up was no big suprise; She was always a late sleeper anyway. He hadn't quite expected her to run into the wall and land in a muttering lump on the floor, however. He walked towards her, smiling.

"You okay, Tabby?" he chuckled.

"Shut. Up. Guthrie." she growled. He tried not to smile, but a small smirk slipped out.

"C'mere, lemme help you up."

Tabitha started to protest, but stopped when she thought that the only way she would probably be able to stand up would be with his help. So, begrudgingly, she accepted his hand and he helped her to her feet, Tab groaning the entire way up.

"You okay?" Sam asked her, concerned.

"Ow...no..."

"What's wrong? Somethin' happen?"

"Nothing...I just need something to eat..." she started towards the stairs, but made it all of two feet before Sam latched onto her forearm and pulled her towards him.

"Ahhh...someone's hungover..."

"Shut. Up." she ordered again, daggars shooting out of her eyes and deflecting off the lenses of her sunglasses.

"Hey, Ah told you not to go sneakin' Emma's Stoli's, but ya wouldn't listen."

"Is this the part where you say, serves you right?"

Sam smiled at her and hugged her, his mushy side winning over macho-Cable-esque. He hated seeing her hurt, even if it was her own doing.

"No. Ah'm sorry you feel so bad, TabbyCat." he said, using his pet name for her. "C'mon, let's go downstairs and get some orange juice."

"Ohhh...*not* orange juice!"

Sam chuckled slightly. "Sorry." He kissed the top of her head and they proceeded down to the kitchen.


On their way to the kitchen, they passed the living room, and consequently, the couch. Said couch had two supposedly alive forms, those of Sean Cassidy and Emma Frost. Sean was sprawled lazily on one end of the couch, with Emma laying down on his lap. Both of them had their hands cemented to their temples.

"Howdy--" Sam started.

"SHUT UP!" the yelled simultaniously, then groaned with regret and held their heads tighter.

Tabitha smirked. "Least I'm not the only one."

"Ohhh...if I *ever* sober up enough to *stand*, Gambit's brain will be dripping out of his nose!" Emma scowled.

"Nae if I get t' him first!"

Tabitha blinked at him. "Sean? You're Irish. Shouldn't you be able to drink endlessly?"

"Aye, I can *drink* endlessly...it's the aftermath that sometimes gets me...what the bloody hell did he give us, Em?"

Emma groaned again. "My head hurts too much to remember..."

They returned to their coupled melancholy, and Sam and Tab resumed their course towards the kitchen.


"Ugh...why me?" Tabitha complained, seated on the countertop, a bowl of Lucky Charms to her right, a tall glass of chocolate milk to her left, and a bottle of aspirin in her hand. "This blows. For the first time, I actually *wish* I was Wolverine. Healing factor, my ass..."

Sam grinned at her. "Now that's one wish Ah pray *won't* come true."

Tabitha rolled her eyes. "Oh, ha ha."

Sam's grin faded to a soft smile. "Serious, though, Tab. Life ain't all that bad."

"No? Damn, someone forgot to tell me that..."

"Ya think it's really *that* bad? Ah mean, look at us, Tab. We live in a mansion with our best friends, don't have to worry about bills or any of that stuff, we can protect ourselves..."

"...people want to kill us, no one remembers the good we do, only the bad, we are feared and hated by most of mankind..."

"...we ain't Emma and Sean...thank the good lord we ain't Remy...besides...we got each other."

Tabitha only looked at him and drew him closer to her, pulling him into a tender kiss. When they broke away, he held her and stroked her hair.

"It's tough, Tab, Ah know. But it's life. It ain't easy."

"C'est la vie..." she murmured.

"Yup. You'd be suprised how much better things get when ya just smile, though."

She looked at him skeptically.

"Ah'm serious. Things start to get better, no lie."

"Guthrie..."

"Yeah?"

"You have got to be the biggest dork I know. Seriously. Even *Hank* is less of one. But he falls more into the nerd catagory, so it doesn't count anyways."

Sam couldn't stop himself from laughing. He had to admit that even *he* thought he sounded a bit...dreamy. Preaching about the better life he was taught in grade school. Tabitha continued,

"I wouldn't want you any other way, though. You're *my* dork." she smiled. He grinned back down at her and lowered his head so that they were forehead to forehead.

"And Ah'm dang proud of it!"

Tabitha giggled, and discovered that her headache had subsided somewhat. Maybe he was right.

Maybe that crap about smiling held some truth.

~Maybe...~ she thought.

And smiled.


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