Title: Maybe Not
Word Count: 1216
Summary: Bobby's perspective on the wedding. Sadly, it's not his.
Notes: Some canon variation -the missing scenes, if you will. I tried posting this a while ago when I first read it, but I guess the site ate it up, so here I go again.
Jean-Paul must’ve gotten tired. He must’ve settled.
At least, that’s what Bobby kept telling himself.
Never once would he have thought that Jean-Paul freakin’ Beaubier would’ve once considered settling down –let alone this….
He was getting married, and there was really no way around that blaringly obvious fact.
No one had let Bobby forget, either. Even with the team split going on, everyone had dropped their fighting for a chance to be cheerful about something. That, and Logan would most certainly kick anyone’s ass if they got nasty about the upcoming wedding –a wedding, one might add, that had conquered every magazine and tabloid cover the minute it had been publicly announced.
They said Northstar was the one that asked.
They were suddenly seen together everywhere –Jean-Paul and … him. Kyle.
When Gambit mentioned the wedding to him during training one day, Bobby told himself that the feeling in the pit of his stomach was surprise. Sure, he was surprised. He was always last to learn these things, but the happy buzz about the mansion suddenly made sense.
Once Gambit had sighed at Bobby’s confusion and had explained just exactly who the hell was getting married, Bobby’s first thought was ‘to who?’
Oh don’t look like that.
Yes, Bobby was aware that Jean-Paul was dating some guy –that all came back to him a moment later. Some guy Bobby had maybe seen a couple of times. Had they met? He wasn’t sure. Probably not.
He put on a happy smile and wondered why Jean-Paul hadn’t said anything. Not that he really should’ve expected anything. Not like they were really more that team mates…
It was strange, Bobby had built up some sort of idea that they had been friends.
They didn’t really talk much.
Bobby blamed it on there being no idle time on Utopia. After all, he distinctly remembered a time, in the original mansion, when Jean-Paul had always been there to talk to in front of the TV on the late nights, even where Bobby was terrible and only wanted to scare everyone away so he could die without breaking hearts.
Suddenly those times –those years –were slapping him in the face while screaming “SO LONG, BOBBY DRAKE!”
Bobby quietly ducked out of all the wedding planning that everyone else only wanted to get more involved in. He wouldn’t be missed. He never was.
At one point, he overhead Alison talking about the guest list.
Alpha Flight was flying in the week of the wedding.
The Avengers were showing up out of respect and kind of by standard. Everyone needed Cap’s blessing, even the Canadians, it would seem.
And then the day of the wedding came crashing down on everyone’s heads and Bobby put on his one suit –the one he wore for business and funerals and now apparently weddings, too.
He’s been to weddings.
Well, actually just Scott’s.
Bobby looked into the mirror and sighed and walked out into the hall. It was mostly empty, because yeah, he was kind of late.
“Bobby,” Warren called, running past, “Get Jean-Paul –it’s time,”
He stood frozen for a moment (hah) before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. It should’ve at least surprised him that he knew where Jean-Paul was when he wasn’t in his old room.
Bobby opened the door out onto the balcony.
Jean-Paul was still bandaged up from the fight with Karma. He spun around instantly.
Bobby swallowed and smiled, crossing his arms, “Warren says you need to get moving. And as interesting and unusual as it would be otherwise, weddings generally involve wearing all of your clothes.”
Jean-Paul glanced to where his shirt and suit jacket hung on a hanger to the side. He nodded, “I…” He exhaled heavily and turned to lean over the balcony, hunched over.
“Are you alright, Jean-Paul?” Bobby asked, quieter than he’d meant.
A silence passed where Jean-Paul stared at his hands and Bobby stared at him.
His stomach twisted almost painfully.
“Yeah, of course, I’ve never been better.” Jean-Paul said finally, and Bobby found himself missing the days when the Quebecois always said Yes never Yeah or how it was usually even Oui. Not anymore. It’d been years since Jean-Paul had first arrived to join the X-Men. The accent had faded.
He straightened up and turned around again, smiling, “This is the happiest day of my life.”
Bobby faltered. His expression, his brain, his train of thought –everything just faltered. He tilted his head and found that his returning smile had to be forced.
Jean-Paul picked up two small boxes that had been lying on the balcony wall. “Take these and give them to my sister, will you? And stall Kyle’s parents. I’ll only be another minute.”
Bobby took the rings carefully and looked up to Jean-Paul, looking over his face.
“Okay,” He said before his scrutinizing got weird. “And um,” he cleared his throat, “Congrats. Y’know, I guess I haven’t had time to say it. But yeah.” He gave a small salute and whirled around, already leaving, “See ya at the wedding.”
There was no reply and Bobby wished that there had been.
Jesus, weddings were obviously a danger to his health. They got him all nervous and jumpy. Blah.
He located Jeanne-Marie and handed over the rings.
“You are… Iceman, oui?” she said, taking the boxes. “Robert Drake?”
His mouth went dry. He put on a grin, “Yep,”
She gave him a strange look, almost thoughtful, and nodded as she walked off.
Bobby ditched the funeral get up and iced up. Why the hell shouldn’t he? Half of the attendees were in costume anyway (although all those in question were actually the part of the team that had flown in from Utopia. Still.). He slid around above everyone as they began to sit down for the ceremony.
Then came the wedding march and finally, Hank began to speak, the vows were taken and then –and then…
“…Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
There was that uncomfortable moment when everyone looked around uneasily and hoped that no one would speak up because that would just be damn awkward.
Bobby looked down around the crowd and then to the couple who had never even looked away from each other.
“Very well,” Hank boomed, “You may kiss,”
The terrible feeling inside of Bobby worsened. His breath hitched.
It’s all the joyful emotions, he told himself.
And why shouldn’t he be?
Bobby slid back down and touched down on the ground just behind everyone else.
Jean-Paul and Kyle walked, arms linked, down the aisle amid more cheers and clapping. They passed by, grinning and gazing in mad love at each other (and whatever else brand new married couples do), and Bobby didn’t even have to force a smile because, after all, no one was looking his way.
The last of the audience left the area as they traveled on to the reception, where a tent had been put up and music was now playing.
Bobby wasn’t feeling up to dancing and cracking bad jokes for claustrophobia-inducing crowds, so he sat down in one of the metal chairs in front of him and watched the ice arch he’d made over the wedding platform begin to melt.
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