BACKDATED: Miles, Warren, and Bobbi

[xp_eriment]

Warren and Bobbi are invited to dinner at the Morales home.


Warren pulled up the (now) familiar apartment building. Brooklyn was never one of his usual places before meeting Miles, and now he felt like he was here often enough to not be stared at by the various latinos who populated the neighbourhood. At least, he thought that's what happened.

"Remember Bobbi," Warren cautioned, getting out of the car. "These people think I'm amazing. Please don't tell them who I really am. I don't know if I could handle the hurt in Rio's eyes."

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," Bobbi replied with a smirk as she got out and closed her door behind her. She fell into step beside him and took in the surrounding scenery. "So, solely out of curiosity, did they actually use the word amazing or..."

"They keep feeding me, so it's implied." Warren pushed the buzzer at the door and waited until the door was opened. "I'm a master of communication, I know how people feel about me."

The pair was greeted by what to Warren had become a familiar scene. Miles's father Jefferson was sitting on the couch watching the news while his mother, Rio, busily puttered in the kitchen. Miles still had a stack of plates in his hands when he opened the door, ignoring Rio's protests to put them down first lest he drop them. He rolled his eyes, given that fumbling wasn't a risk with him.

"Hi, come in, quick before she decides to criticize something else, thanks."

Rio held back the urge to slap Miles upside the head. Instead, she smiled sweetly. "Like your outfit, mijo? I thought I threw that shirt away." Motioning to her guests, she moved towards the sofa. "Sit, sit, please. I'm Rio Morales, Miles' mother. I'm very happy to meet more people from his charter school."

"Nice to meet you as well, my name's Bobbi." She shook Rio's hand and took a seat where she'd gestured. "Thank you for having us over. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Rio shook her head and motioned to the couch. "Sit, sit!" Turning to Miles, she glared. "Someone will remember their manners soon and offer you a drink. After all, you're our guests."

Knowing full well his mother had eyes in the back of her head, Miles resisted giving her a look of teenage attitude and instead turned to Warren and Bobbi as if he wasn't at all embarrassed by her calling him out. "So, guests, can I get you something to drink? Water, Coke, beer? Ma even splurged and got the Coke in the glass bottles with the sugar."

"Nice. I'll have one of those bad boys, I think." Bobbi grinned and eased back into her seat on the sofa, looking around as she did so. "You have a lovely home here, Ms. Morales," she added, speaking a bit louder for Miles' mother to hear her.

"Thank you very much," Rio responded. She took pride in her home, and wanted people to feel comfortable. The walls were covered in family pictures, the couch, while old, was soft and most importantly, you could tell a family lived there. "If you'll excuse me, I just have to check on the tamales, and then we can sit down to eat."

Warren grinned and sat down next to Bobbi. "You're in for a treat. I keep trying to give Rio money to start a restaurant, but she refuses. I even told her that she'd save on costs with Miles as slave labour." He shook his head sadly. "No dice."

While Miles gathered the drinks from the fridge, his father, shut off the TV and got up to join the guests at the table. He offered his hand to Warren first and then to Bobbi. "Thank you for coming. It's always nice to have guests who aren't my son's knucklehead friends."

"You know Ganke thinks that's actually a compliment," Miles said, setting the bottles on the table. "Like he's tough enough to punch things with his face?"

"Remind me how he got into college again."

"A 4.0 GPA, debate club, Mathletes, that summer internship at Hammer Industries, plus more AP's than I took," Miles retorted, knowing he shouldn't talk back to his father but too proud of his brother-from-another-mother for his achievements to not. "We're gonna be roommates again at Columbia," he said to Warren.

Warren whipped his head so quickly, he thought he heard his neck pop. "Roommates? What? You're moving? How is that even possible?"

"What, like I'm going to stay at Xavier's when I'm at college? That makes even less sense than living here. Being in Manhattan is better for, just, everything, you know?" Miles hoped the emphasis conveyed the spidery meaning behind the word.

"And it'll be easier to bring girls back if you're not with your parents," Jefferson teased, chuckling at the disgusted noise he heard Rio make from the kitchen. Miles blushed, although he could not deny that was a perk, too.

"Besides, I can still go back," Miles added, avoiding everyone's faces. "They have post–high school training and stuff, too."

Warren made an unimpressed noise. Rio, misunderstanding it, gave a sympathetic nod as she came out of the kitchen. "They grow too fast, no? I still remember Miles' first day at school. Oh how he refused to let me leave." She gave a chuckle. "Remember that, papi?

Jefferson took the serving dishes from her and set them down so she could retrieve the rest of the meal. "Yeah, I do. Thank God he was mostly out of his bed-wetting phase by then. Last thing I wanted was the teacher calling 'cuz he need a change of pants."

Miles looked horrified that he'd said such things in front of company. "Dad!"

"What? Ay, you were the bed-wettingest kid I ever saw. Only reason I ever even bought the Daily Bugle was to line your sheets. 'I had a accident, I had a accident,'" he mimicked a young Miles. "Boy, I was gonna show an accident one day."

"Dad! Please."

"Yes, well, I think we're all glad those days are behind Miles now," Bobbi said, going out on a limb and assuming that was the case at least. She looked around the living room, trying to come up with a different topic of discussion. Her eyes fell on a series of houseplants that filled up one corner of the living room. "You have quite the green thumb, Mrs. Morales. It must take a lot of time to water your pants." Wait. "Plants." Dammit.

Rio gave a look at her laughing husband, trying to remind him that they did have company, while her mortified son looked like he wanted to kill his father. "Yes, Bobbi, I love a little green in my house."

Warren tried not to snort at that. "And it looks lovely, Rio. As does dinner. Can we sit down now? I'm planning on being a rude guest and reminding everyone I'm hungry."

"Of course, of course." Jefferson pulled out Rio's chair when she came back to the table, and pushed it in for her when she sat. He took his own seat once everyone was situated, and then held out his hands for prayer. Miles hastily withdrew from the platter of tamales so he could join in and not get reprimanded. "God bless this food and the guests who've come to share it with us. Amen."

"Amen!" Miles enthusiastically repeated before helping himself to a tamale, a large scoop of aromatic yellow rice, and an even bigger portion of carne guisada. "Ma, it smells so good. Did you make it spicy this time?"

"I made it as spicy as I think Mr. Worthington can handle."

Warren gave a startled laugh. After how many visits, Rio had slowly started to warm up to him, but this was the first time he could actually tell she was joking with him. Turning to Bobbi, he gave an explanation. "I thought I had Spanish tastebuds, but I don't. They're very very gringo. I think I drank all the milk the neighbourhood the last time I asked for 'spicy' food." He gave a sigh. "And it was so good too."

"Ah, I see," Bobbi replied, making a mental note for future reference. She liked a good, spicy meal from time-to-time, but she'd have to remember her boyfriend apparently had a delicate constitution in that regard. "In that case I'm certain that I'll be fine, then." She helped herself to some of the food as it was passed around, carefully plating a proper portion before passing the dish to the person next to her.

Jefferson accepted the platter from her and filled his plate. "So, Warren mentioned you're a private investigator," he said to Bobbi. "Don't think I've ever met one. Bail bondsmen, I know a few of. How's it like?"

"It's interesting. You never know what each day is going to bring," she said, pouring herself a glass of water. "One day you're behind a desk, following a paper trail, and the next you could be in the field on a stakeout or doing surveillance. I like it better than my previous work as a police officer, at any rate."

"You don't look like a police officer," Rio blurted out in surprise. " I would have thought maybe a lawyer. Doesn't she look like a lawyer, papi?"

"Quizás," Jefferson admitted, "But she also looks like she can take down a criminal with her bare hands and not just words in a courthouse. You could give Sarah Connor a run for her money."

"Who's Sarah Connor?" Miles asked, mouth full of tamale.

"A badass," Bobbi answered reflexively, before remembering she was in company. "I mean, yes, I suppose I could." She turned towards Miles. "Wait, you haven't seen the Terminator movies? We'll have to fix that if that's the case."

"That's the one with Christian Bale, right? I think I saw that one. There's better robot movies, though. You seen Pacific Rim? The next one's going to have my boy John Boyega in it."

Jefferson raised an eyebrow. "Finn's going to be in more movies?" he asked, unintentionally mimicking his son's poor table manners.

Miles nodded enthusiastically. "Heck yeah!"

Warren thought about that for a moment. "I think Jubilee made me watch that. It had a strange non-love triangle between that Asian girl and the generic white guy, right?"

"Yeah, and he's not in this sequel, either. Boyega is Pentecost's son. I can't wait, it's gonna be lit. Oh! That reminds me. What do I need to do this year to get me and Ganke tickets for the Last Jedi premiere? No job's too dirty."

"Miles, show a little pride," his father castigated, but Miles just shrugged. The list of things he was not willing to do for that was so small, it was almost nonexistent.

"You're not old enough for the real dirty jobs." It wasn't until he caught Rio's murderous gaze that Warren remembered where he was. "And by that I mean you can't serve alcohol due to your age, so that cuts out 80% of the 'favour' jobs I can get you." Nailed it.

Bobbi elbowed Warren in the side as discretely (and as hard) as she could, if for no other than Rio's benefit. "I'm sure Warren will help out if he can, won't you?"

"Always." Warren tried to look as angelic as possible. "Could you please pass the tamales, Miles? That's the first of many ways you can get your tickets."