Changing Faces
by Poi Lass

Part Two: David Duchovny Is Not That Cute

"Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit." Bobby thudded darkly into the kitchen, alternating between distinctly articulated expletives as if unable to decide which best expressed his state of mind.

"Trouble in paradise, you beautiful mutant marvel you?" Warren said, smirking as he quoted one of Sidney's favourite endearments. Bobby shot a killing glare at him and Warren yelped as ice suddenly encased his genitals.

Bobby snickered, his black mood lifting slightly as Warren rushed from the room, violently swearing revenge. He grabbed several near empty boxes of cereal and poured their contents into a bowl, not minding - or noticing - that Sugar Puffs were mixed with Choco Treats.

"There's no milk." Jean informed him helpfully as he approached the fridge.

"No milk??!!" Wide blue eyes stared at her in horrifed disbelief as he spun around to face her.

"No milk??" Bobby repeated in distress. "But - what am I going to eat? I need sugar. I need strength to cope with the lovesick moron - who shall remain nameless - whose first joy in life appears to be making mine hell... Besides we usually have bunches of milk. In fact, I distinctly remember that yesterday there were truckloads of milk. What the hell happened to it? A freak teleporting accident, the cunning plot of an evil mutant - or did Strong Guy visit again?"

"Uh- the lovesick moron who shall remain nameless used it all up tryin' to bake ya a cake... which he sorta burnt to a crisp. But otherwise, Ah think it woulda been a real nice gesture, don't you?" Rogue piped sweetly. Bobby just slammed the fridge door shut, clenching his fists in frustration.

"I do not believe this! Why me huh? Why doesn't he go after - after Remy or Warren or something? Or Jean, everybody else does..."

"Bobby, calm down." Scott ordered as the temperature in the room began to drop. "You're over reacting. There's plenty of other things to eat. Jean made pancakes..."

"Don't want pancakes." Bobby glowered petulantly. "Want- " he glanced at the label of the nearest cereal box, "-Sugar Puffs. With milk."

"Robert, do you not think you are being a little childish?"

"You try being followed around day and night by an insane shapeshifter - who could be any one of you, actually, so if you're in here Morph, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" he glared at the assembled X-men as if expecting one of them to jump up and smack a kiss on him.

"Robert!" Storm frowned at him repressingly, but Bobby just slumped unhappily into a chair.

"Damn it, he keeps - jumping out at me all the time. And he sneaks into my bedroom. I don't even know how he does it, unless he's sliding through the air conditioning or something... maybe I should start setting traps."

"Bobby c'mon now, all he wants is one lil' date with ya. Ah thought ya liked him? Why don't ya just..?" Rogue seemed to think Bobby and Sidney would make a cute couple, and did what she could to advance Morph's cause.

"No." Bobby said vehemently.

"Gambit don't see what de problem is. Plenty of advantages, going out wit' a shapeshifter." Remy offered, grinning broadly.

"One day you wake up with David Duchovny, the next it's Gillian Anderson..." Jean mused. Scott shot her a look. She smiled at him sweetly.

"Who could ask for anything more?"

"Fine." Bobby said sourly. "You have him. But if you all don't mind I have to go hammer up mouseholes in my room. On an empty stomach. Feel free to have a nice laugh at my expense."

He stormed angrily out of the room again. Rogue sighed.

"Ah know Sid's antics are kinda fun ta watch, but he's driving Bobby crazy."

"Turn about is fair play, as they say. Bobby's been driving us crazy for years. Has anyone else noticed how seldom he plays practical jokes these days?"

"Ah know. Ah kinda miss it." Rogue grinned nostalgically. Beast raised his eyebrows.

"Really? Like the time he shrank your costume and half your clothes so you thought you were getting fat, and spent every day for a month in the gym?"

"...."

"That was BOBBY???"

"Oops."

"Ah'm gonna kill him - "

"Rogue-"

"Ah'm gonna rip his balls off and make him eat them, that little - "

"Rogue, please, not while we're eating-"

"No - you're right. Death's too good for him." She stood up, a vicious smile spreading over her face as she thought of the perfect revenge.

"Ah know. Ah'm gonna tell Morph he loves poetry, instead." She tossed her hair and walked out of the room.

"Hank." Storm said thoughtfully, after a few horrified moments had passed in silence.

"Mmmm?"

"Would Robert also have been responsible for the sudden downsizing of my costume?"

"Umm...."

"I see." Storm got up and carefully deposited her plate in the sink. "If you would all excuse me, I believe Sidney will be wanting to borrow a few ... poetry books."

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." Morph declaimed.

"Oh god." Bobby sank his head into his arms.

"I'm up to five hun-drrred!" the shapeshifter trilled.

"Could somebody please just shoot me? Or better - shoot him. Hey Bishop? My good, favouritist, most bestest friend from the future with extensive weaponry, Bishop! Lend me your gun? Pretty please?" He looked up hopefully as Morph launched into the first of the five hundred ways in which Bobby was loved.

"No." Bishop barely paused as he passed through the living room. "You cruel, sadistic bastard..." Bobby snarled. Bishop offered him a rare smile as he left. Morph never hit on him. Bobby slumped, and returned to planning his murder.

No court in the country would convict me...

Some time later he slunk into the living room, eyes darting around, He focused in the end on the room's sole occupant, Jean Grey, who was quietly reading a book in the sun.

"Something wrong, Bobby?" she asked with a smile.

"No." He said, not moving any further into the room. Morph had been known to shift into articles of furniture, as well as people. On one particularly embarrassing occasion, he'd masqueraded as Bobby's mattress.

"Uh huh. Do you want to talk about it?" Bobby opened his mouth, and then closed it again, looking at her suspiciously.

"No. You might be him."

"I'm not him, Bobby." Jean sighed.

"That's exactly what Hank said. Just before he turned into Brooke Shields."

<Bobby - I'm not him!>

Bobby flinched at Jean's exasperated voice in his mind, and she frowned at his over-reaction.

God, but he's on edge these days. If I didn't think Morph genuinely cared about him, I'd give him a good kick for messing him up so thoroughly.

"... I still don't want to talk about it." He said shortly. But he threw himself in a chair instead of leaving, pushing a hand through his hair. It looked as if he'd been doing a lot of that recently, and it flopped messily over his face. However, she resisted the urge to tidy him up, doubting he'd appreciate the den mother approach.

She knew some of the others still found what they thought of as `Morph's infatuation' funny, and Bobby tried to pretend he did, too. But the disordered waves of hurt and helplessness she felt emanating from him told her it was getting far beyond a joke.

"So - still hiding from Sidney?" she asked, smiling at him encouragingly.

"He won't leave me alone. He keeps quoting poetry at me..." Jean tried not to laugh at Bobby's bemused expression. Morph had recently renounced the romantic poets and started experimenting with obscene limericks.

"Could you maybe talk to him?" he looked at her hopefully. She sighed and shook her head.

"I've tried, Bobby... Have you ever considered - well - giving in?"

"Jean -!" he looked horrified, but, Jean thought privately, as if he had considered it, and didn't like how appealing the idea was.

"Well, how bad could it be? You have a lot in common-" she said semi-seriously.

"NO, Jean." He said firmly.

"Sorry. Just a thought." She opened her hands, as if to ask why he was so against it.

"I - I just don't feel that way about him." Bobby said, hating the sudden lack of certainty in his voice.

But I don't, I don't...

"Okay. Have you told him that?" Jean said calmly, as if she couldn't hear the anguished confusion of his thoughts.

"You know I have. He just laughs and says I'm in denial, and he'd grow on me if I gave him a chance. Like a fungus or something presumably." She hid a smile at his disgruntled tone.

"Are you... sure he wouldn't?"

"What?"

"Grow on you."

"For Christ's sake Jean, don't you start-"

"I'm simply suggesting that perhaps you don't dislike him as much as you want to believe, or you wouldn't be this upset about it-"

"I'm not upset!" he snapped.

"Fine, okay-" Jean soothed.

"I'm not! And don't fucking soothe me, Jean." She raised his eyebrows at that, but didn't say anything.

"I never said that I disliked him. Well okay, I did, but - he's a nice guy. In an intensely irritating kind of way. I just don't - don't - LIKE him. Like that. Okay? He's not my type. And even if he was, which he's not, I still wouldn't be interested in - in a relationship right now. With anyone." He looked down at his hands unhappily, and added, almost to himself, "Probably not ever again, considering how well the last one went."

Jean's heart went out to him. Bobby's last girlfriend Belinda hadn't hung around that long - most of the X-men hadn't even met her - but she'd taken a disproportionately large chunk of his self esteem with her when she left.

Not that he had an enormous stock to begin with. Jean thought, once again wishing she could meet the woman who'd so completely destroyed her friend's self-confidence. Just give me five minutes alone with the bitch...

"Bobby - I know sometimes it's hard, but you can't just give up -"

"Why the hell not?" he retorted. "You know, I've been thinking about it lately. A lot. Every woman I've ever gone out with has had at least two things in common. They've all been very intelligent. And they've all dumped yours truly. I know I'm not the X-men's resident genius, but I think even I can see the pattern." The sudden bitterness in his voice shocked her.

"Bobby, you can't believe that! It's not you-"

"Oh no, of-course not. It's my woman repellent cologne. Look, just - forget it Jean, okay? I'm tired. And I am sick to death of talking about Morph, or my lovelife - or even worse, both, in the same conversation - so can you please just leave me the hell alone and stop matchmaking?"

"...fine."

"Fine." There was silence for a moment. Bobby pushed his hand through his hair again, staring into space.

"So you're not attracted to Sidney at all then -" Jean started, hoping he might laugh at her persistence if nothing else, but he just glared at her, got up, and left the room.

"Hmph." She muttered. "Think I hit a nerve..."

She sat a few minutes in silence, until she was disturbed again by the entrance of Warren and Logan.

Warren had a bemused expression on his face and moved across the room to peer warily out of the window.

"I've just seen Bobby sliding over the grounds, being chased by a small purple horse waving a bunch of roses. Is it just me or is Morph too wierd even for us?"

Jean sighed, banishing the bizarre mental picture before she started giggling helplessly.

"This can't go on. Somebody needs to talk to him." She said firmly.

"Good idea. Just tell him to marry the shifter and get it over with. Put us all out of our misery."

"I meant somebody needs to talk to Sidney. And thank you for volunteering, Logan."

Logan looked at Jean's stern expression and decided against protesting. Growling under his breath, he set his heightened senses to tracking down the shape changer.

Finding him proved to be easy. However, Logan quickly came to the conclusion that convincing him to give up his passion for Bobby would be far, far less so.

"But I loooove him, Logan." Sidney declared with his usual flamboyance. But despite the silly voice and the shapeshifting into Greta Garbo, Logan could smell his ardent sincerity. He sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Unrequited love's a bitch."

"It's not unrequited." Sidney said stubbornly. "He loves me, too. He just doesn't know it yet."

"Could be right there." Logan muttered.

"Really? Can you smell it? Does he smell like he loves me?" Logan backed away from Sid's eager questioning.

"Uh - I dunno kid. Mostly he just smells angry and confused, these days."

And sometimes horny and confused when ya come on real strong. But I don't think tellin' ya that would help... It might be fun, but it definitely wouldn't help...

"Maybe you should back off a little." A thought suddenly occured to him. "Why don't ya try playing hard to get?" Morph looked at him hopefully.

"You really think that would work?"

Not a chance.

"Sure, why not. Nothin' else has."

"I've decided, Bobby! I don't love you anymore! I'm too good for you!" Morph announced, bursting into the living room with his usual flair.

"Hallelujah. There is a God." Bobby said grumpily, not looking up from the television. Morph was slightly nonplussed by his failure to be devastated by the news, but continued with his cunning plan, giggling coquettishly as he ran out of the room. He ran straight into Storm, who debated momentarily with herself about asking the obvious, before allowing curiosity to win over common sense.

"Sidney... what are you doing?"

"Logan suggested I try playing hard to get." Sidney told her, craning his neck to see if Bobby was following to beg him, on hands and knees, to return. Storm followed his gaze, blinking as she tried to assimilate this.

"..."

"Try harder."

continued >>

David Duchovny belongs to himself. Or possibly Chris Carter.
The "let me count the ways.... I'm up to five hundred" line was essentially stolen from a Snoopy comic strip. I forget who the original poet was. Sorry, poet guy.
Feedback to poilass@bigfoot.com.

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