REC: He's my friend. He's my alibi.
Oct. 9th, 2009 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeFandom: X-MEN FIRST CLASS
Characters: Scott, Warren
Rating: PG
Length: One Shot
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
asitiswhenitwas
Why this must be read: This fic is cute and funny and really captures the early era of the X-men, when life was a lot more hopeful and a lot less violent. Also, the Scott and Warren characterizations are just awesome. ♥
Author's Summary: Scott and Warren aren’t agreeing on many things. They can’t even agree if this is or isn’t a mission. Either way; Road trip!
“Alright gents, lemmie know if ya need anything else.” The waitress said with a wink towards Warren, her hand brushing his shoulder as she walked past.
Scott’s eyes drifted down to the syrup caddy at the end of the table in an attempt to ignore the constant flirtation between Warren and, to be honest, every waitress (so far) between Westchester and Nashville.
“Well. She’s pretty hot.” Warren winked while adjusting in his seat.
Scott shrugged, ignoring Warren’s statement. Silently he turned his attention to his stack of pancakes, now fully coated in boysenberry syrup. He pondered for a moment exactly what a boysenberry was.
“Not that you would notice…” Warren added.
He’s my friend. He’s my alibi.
Characters: Scott, Warren
Rating: PG
Length: One Shot
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Author:
asitiswhenitwas Why this must be read: This fic is cute and funny and really captures the early era of the X-men, when life was a lot more hopeful and a lot less violent. Also, the Scott and Warren characterizations are just awesome. ♥
Author's Summary: Scott and Warren aren’t agreeing on many things. They can’t even agree if this is or isn’t a mission. Either way; Road trip!
“Alright gents, lemmie know if ya need anything else.” The waitress said with a wink towards Warren, her hand brushing his shoulder as she walked past.
Scott’s eyes drifted down to the syrup caddy at the end of the table in an attempt to ignore the constant flirtation between Warren and, to be honest, every waitress (so far) between Westchester and Nashville.
“Well. She’s pretty hot.” Warren winked while adjusting in his seat.
Scott shrugged, ignoring Warren’s statement. Silently he turned his attention to his stack of pancakes, now fully coated in boysenberry syrup. He pondered for a moment exactly what a boysenberry was.
“Not that you would notice…” Warren added.
He’s my friend. He’s my alibi.
