return_to_nola

Sam had started the drive from Westchester to Connecticut quietly, shifting between X-related rumination and affection for Oliver. He would drift away on some thought or memory or other (a softball game, a funeral, a moment with a student, playing chess with Charles) and then return back to reality -- back to Oliver -- and reach out to him with some topic of conversation or other.

But as an hour turned into two hours, Sam was feeling more solid. His shoulders loosened, the knots in his muscles gradually uncoiled, and he found his smile more frequently. He even, at one point, sang along to the car radio. It was good to be going home, to be chasing a tricky Scott moment with a positive Sam one.

And now it was time for Oliver to meet the Scotts. When they arrived (they had pulled over to cast critical eyes over their appearances; Scott had changed his shirt and combed Oliver's hair), it was like stepping into a sunny patch of day, even though it was getting late.

Sam had grown up with just his mom and his aunt. His mom had bought the house when she was pregnant with Sam; they had lived here his whole life. It had never been weird that he raised by his mom and her sister; they loved him like parents and loved each other like best friends, and they were fun, outgoing, loving people. They were women quick to laugh, women who played board games like they were the coolest thing in the world, women who owned a karaoke machine and who still, even without Sam, hung out at the piano in the living room and sang songs together.

When they arrived, it was all a happy blur. Sam's aunt ("Call me Sarah", she had ordered Oliver with a hug and a kiss on each cheek) had greeted them with cocktails. Well, more specifically, a cocktail called "The Oliver," which was minty and zesty and disturbingly accurate. She was talkative and friendly, and she managed to take Sam and Oliver on a tour of the house -- excluding Sam's room -- in which she lovingly made fun of Sam in every single room. (If Oliver had been nervous about fitting in with this family, maybe this introduction would make him more relaxed).

And then Sam's mother had arrived home from work, and Sam, who now remembered a life where he had lost a mother in a horrific way, hugged her a little too hard and too long. But he was comfortable here at home, and he held Oliver's hand under the table at dinner and laughed as he accused his mother and aunt of cheating at a brisk game of monopoly (Oliver had been given first pick of player piece, because he was the guest).

Finally, though, they were alone again, and now, Sam could show Oliver his room. It was exactly as it had always been: neat and orderly, clean, a slate of neutrals. There was a Top Gun poster on the door, of course, and a keyboard stand and guitar stand next to it in the corner (the keyboard was in New Orleans, the guitar was exactly where Sam had left it). His bookshelf was stacked with books and model planes, and a few model cars; there was a framed photo of Sam, his mother, and his aunt on his desk (his mom must have kindly removed the photo of Sam and his ex that used to sit beside it). There was a corkboard with old pennants, photos of Sam in baseball uniforms or costumes, an invitation to a wedding he'd attended with his ex, his college acceptance letter, little slices of his quiet little life. The room was an oasis from the colour and happy noise of the rest of the house, and it was here that Sam leaned against the wall, finally fully loose-limbed and comfortable, and watched Pietro-Oliver meet baby Sam through his things. For once, there was a free and uncomplicated smile on his face. "So this is it."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver had been mildly discombobulated since he'd had an Oliver pressed into his hand (he'd had seconds, because it was good) but managed to keep it together for dinner and Monopoly conversation. (He'd selected the racecar, of course!) But here, in Sam's room, he was absolutely overwhelmed. It was like he was swimming in the sea Sam had emerged from. The models! The Top Gun poster! The neatly ordered cork board and several beiges!

He lightly, carefully touched the edge of one of Sam's baseball photos like it was something precious. "I want to live here," he decided.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam laughed lowly, touched. Oliver had been so good with his family, and he looked at Sam’s things like they were precious. “If you tell them that, they absolutely will not let you leave.”

From:

nola_quicksilver

"You'll have to stay with me," Oliver told him. "And if my mom finds out, she'll have to move in too, and our joint loudness might kill you."

From:

nola_cyclops

“It really might,” Sam agreed, pretty cheerfully for someone thinking about his death by noise. “But it would be worth it."

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver crossed the room to him then, because the only thing he liked better than pictures of little Sam was the flesh-and-blood grown-up one. He wrapped his arms around him. "But then I'd die of sadness and we'd just have a house of partying moms."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam grinned, slipping his own arms comfortably around Oliver. “The moms always win. What do you think?” Of the house, of the people in it, of Sam in this context.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I love everything I've seen so far, other than you demolishing me at Monopoly." He'd seen a very Cyclopian competitive side come out.

From:

nola_cyclops

“That racecar wasn’t taking you anywhere, babe.” Sam loved to win!

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver rolled his eyes, but he would have been just as smug about winning. Well, maybe not here—he'd tried to be on good behavior, though he hoped he'd gotten less obviously nervous as the night wore on. It was impossible to completely turn off his natural talkativeness, so maybe he'd evened out to something that appeared normal and relaxed to the unsuspecting.

"Is this how you are with your chess friend...s?" He was unsure if there was more than one, honestly.

From:

nola_cyclops

“There’s basically just Zach, and no, I’m not like this. I’m much worse.” Sam grinned. Oliver had been so charming, playing a game earnestly with Sam’s family. They liked him so much, Sam could tell.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Ugh, so gross." Oliver said it cheerfully, though, and he still had an arm comfortably around Sam. "Want to give me the full tour? Your aunt seemed to leave this room out."

From:

nola_cyclops

“I love you too.” Sam took one of Oliver’s hands so he could pull him into the middle of the room. “This is my room. There’s the bed, there’s the desk, there’s the closet.” He pointed to all three in turn. “I told my aunt that I was going to show you this room myself.”

From:

nola_quicksilver

"So you could give me such an in-depth, personal tour, yes," he replied dryly. "No bunk bed, I see."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam laughed. “No bunk bed. You can look underneath the bed, if you want, for the bonus experience.” That’s where two old friends - lovingly worn teddy bears - lived, in an open shallow tub, tucked into Sam’s old baby blanket as a makeshift bed. This tour benefited from close inspection.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver crouched to take a peek. Then he dramatically crumpled to the floor in a faint, because that was too, too much. Sam's baby things! His stuffed animals. Oliver was going to die of emotion overload for sure.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam laughed, surprised. “Babe? You still alive down there?"

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Too...cute... So many...feelings..."

From:

nola_cyclops

“Rory Bear and Bob Bear, meet Oliver.” Sam was aiming for a dry tone, but it was so loving it was an abject failure.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver shifted so he could look up at Sam. "Oh my God, did you name them?" Because they were such serious names for a child to pick, which would be classic Sam.

From:

nola_cyclops

“Of course I did.” Sam smiled, sitting easily on the floor. He pulled the bears out of their bed, passing one, and then the other, to Oliver. “Rory, Bob.” They were clean, but clearly well-loved — one ear re-sewn back in place, one with a hastily-replaced, mismatched eye.

Somehow it was so easy to show himself to Oliver here.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver propped one in his lap and examined the other, touching its mismatched eye gently. Little Sam had loved this one extra hard. "I never pictured you with stuffed animals," he said softly, as if not to offend the bears. "I sort of just thought you had a toy plane in your hands from the start."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam smiled, watching Oliver. “Well, for a while I was the plane and they were my passengers. And I had pilot outfits for them at one point.” Sam and planes had always gone together.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver groaned and leaned his forehead against Sam's shoulder. There had to be pictures of that, right? "Sam, I'm already dead. Why are you the cutest?"

From:

nola_cyclops

“You look pretty alive to me, and I think you mean the bears are the cutest.” Sam kissed the top of Oliver’s head, then took the bears and tucked them back into their little bed. “I’m not sure I should be showing you anything else, though, for your health.”

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I'm sure I'll survive. And maybe the bears should go on a field trip, to somewhere secluded?" Oliver hastily suggested. He wasn't sure he'd be able to perform knowing the bears were under the bed, hearing everything with their cute little cloth ears.