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 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.

From:

nola_cyclops

“I can arrange that.” There should be plenty of space for their little bed in the closet, so Sam scooped them up and got up to open it. Yes, they could sit there on a shelf that used to hold t-shirt, perfect. “My closet isn’t as cute,” he apologised, but hanging in the back was his old flight suit costume, the one from Oliver’s lock screen, so he held it up for Oliver. The shelves held more model trains and cars, chess pieces and boards, a baseball bat, old gaming equipment, the suit he wore to prom.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver looked at everything, particularly lingering on how small the flight suit looked compared to Sam now. His Sam was tall and strong, which he loved, but the surge of affection for the little boy who'd worn this and dreamed was very real too.

But as he started to really absorb the neutral colors and overall orderliness, he felt guilty. "Maybe we should redecorate our room," he murmured. It was still a lot more Oliver than Sam.

From:

nola_cyclops

“You love that room.” Sam had preferences; that didn’t mean they were right, or good for everyone. And Sam had barely even asked before moving into it.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"But I love you more." Oliver was wandering the room now, examining a photo here, a blanket there. "We can figure out how to combine styles, probably."

From:

nola_cyclops

“If anyone can figure that out, it’ll be you. My artist.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed, watching Oliver explore.

From:

nola_quicksilver

He was looking at the cork board now. "Whose wedding was this?" If it was still up after all this time, it was probably important, right?

From:

nola_cyclops

It actually wasn’t that important, but it had been symbolically important. “My ex’s friend. I thought it was romantic or a good sign that I was officially invited.”

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver wrinkled his nose. "Oh. Has he stayed in this room?"

From:

nola_cyclops

“He has not. He’s seen it, but he’d always want to be back in New York instead of staying overnight.” Oliver was the first.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"That's stupid. Who wouldn't want to stay here?" Oliver came over to slide onto Sam's lap, looping an arm around his shoulders. "There's so much you here."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam smiled, wrapping an arm around Oliver. “Maybe there was too much me here for him.” It was hard to be upset about that when he had a hot, incredible man in his lap.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"That's even more stupid." Oliver kissed the top of Sam's head; the hair felt clean and warm under his lips. "I've known you for two lives and still want more."

From:

nola_cyclops

“I know the feeling. I always want to know more about you.” Which was a major part of being in love, sure, but it felt remarkable here, in their second life together.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Hm, okay, you get one question about me, but then we're going back to focusing on you and this room." That was fair, right?

From:

nola_cyclops

“I don’t know, this trip has been very about me.” But Sam smiled, again (he kept smiling tonight!) and settled on a question. “Did you have any friends like my bear friends, stuffed or otherwise?"

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I had a zebra...I must have gotten him at the zoo or something. His legs were really floppy and good for knocking things over, and his name was Zeebie." He still held a place of honor on a shelf in his old childhood bedroom, which was now a guest room.

From:

nola_cyclops

“Zeebie the Zebra. That’s unbearably cute.” 'Good for knocking things over' was very Oliver.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I wasn't as creative at naming my things." Because, seriously, Rory Bear? That was the best.

From:

nola_cyclops

“But it has momentum. It’s zippy. Like you.” A speedster brain, always.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Not serious and dependable like Rory and Bob." Oliver smiled down at him, tucking some of Sam's hair back.

From:

nola_cyclops

“Some things are the same no matter what life I’m in.” Serious and dependable; that was Sam, and Scott, in a nutshell. He smiled a little, touched by Oliver’s little gestures. “Do you have more questions for me?”