I’m a lucky man. I had to keep reminding myself of that as I stood behind the curtains of the stage in the ballroom with my “lucky” companions. The noise from the large room on the other side of the curtains was ridiculous, especially for someone with sensitive hearing like mine. Should rich married women really be acting like a bunch of wild and crazy teenage girls after only a few glasses of wine? My answer was out there, screaming along with one of the most popular rock bands of the time who had agreed to put on this private performance pro bono. I thought that was pretty brave of them, to be honest. I knew I was not looking forward to going out to be ogled by those women.
“We’re actually doing it. Why are we doing it, again?” Bobby asked quietly, glancing around to make sure none of our women was within hearing distance. Thankfully, they weren’t.
“We were blinded by sex. Men, we were tricked,” Scott said bitterly. None of us tried to dance around the fact that our women had led us here simply with a few honeyed words and hours spent in the sack. Devoted, loving, purposefully spent hours in the sack.
“We’ll have to pay them back, somehow. Would they like having to do a wet T-shirt contest for a bunch of rich guys? I doubt it,” Remy answered his own question with a glare in the direction of the screams coming from the ballroom. I almost felt bad for the guy. Apparently, Ororo hadn’t even told him about the contest until earlier in the day. I guess she didn’t want to ruin the honeymoon.
Of course, there was no question of us allowing any other men to stare at our beautiful women while they’re wearing clinging wet tops, but apparently, the women had no problems with the reverse happening. In fact, they’d been gloating for the past two days as they rushed around making preparations. It was almost more than any of us men could stand, but we did our best. After all, it was for charity. And none of us wanted a cold bed, either.
Thoughts of beer and hockey ran through my head as I heard the music die away and someone walk across the stage. Suddenly, Jubilee’s cheerful voice rang out over the excited noises of the throng.
“All right, everyone, now it’s time for the last treat of the night. We women here at the school decided that wet T-shirt contests shouldn’t be so one-sided, so here are some hot men who’ve volunteered to be hosed down and let you judge which of them has got what it takes to win!” she cried out happily. I really couldn’t see why she was so damned happy about it. I guess she thought St. John was going to win. Huh. Fat chance.
The curtains opened to reveal all five of us standing in a line. We wore white T-shirts, of course, and dark jeans. Jubilee turned to grin at us briefly before motioning to Jean and Ororo, the tallest of the women, to bring in the buckets. I tried really hard not to glare at them as they came up to Scott and me first. After all, it was for charity, right?
I thought I was prepared for the icy feel of the water as Ororo dumped it over my head. I was wrong. Of course, I made sure not to let it show beyond a small shiver, unlike Scott, who actually yelped. I couldn’t help grinning out to the ladies in the crowd at that one. They seemed to appreciate that.
More buckets were handed up for Bobby, St. John and Remy. Then it was our turn to really perform. While I felt like a pansy for doing it, I went along with the other guys in posing, flexing our muscles and grinning as big as we were able to under the circumstances. After all, we’d all been promised big rewards at the end of the night, and I planned to collect big time. In fact, there was no reason to leave our bedroom for a couple of days. That’s how much Marie owed me.
Jubilee prolonged our torture until our smiles started to look strained. I saw her looking closest at me. Did I ever mention how smart she can be sometimes? The slight glare I sent her seemed to be what she was waiting for, because she called out, “All right, ladies, we’re going to judge the winner of this little contest by how loud you get! Let’s hear it for Scott!” she called out.
I’ll admit that Scooter got a loud response. I think mine was better. The younger X-Men had some support, but not nearly as much as Scott or me. We smirked at each other as Jubilee regretfully asked Bobby, St. John and Remy to step back. Our girls all gathered in a tight circle to confer. It amused me to see some argument going on, but finally Jubilee came back to the center of the stage.
“Well, ladies, it looks like we’ve got a winner. Let’s hear some noise for…Logan!”
Well, while I don’t think I’ll go bragging about this one outside of the mansion any time soon, I do have to admit that beating the rest of the X-Men in this little game was worth the few minutes of humiliation I had to suffer. That doesn’t mean I’m going to fall in neatly with any other little plans our girls might have for us, though, no matter how good it felt to stand out there in the spotlight.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: I blame my own mind and Furball, my wonderful muse. She’s a doll sometimes. And she lives for stuff like this. Thanks, Jenn-jenn, for saying this was cute. Kinda cliché-ful, but I’ve tried to keep that to a minimum. Fanon is definitely observed here.