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

"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?”

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Sam, I have a million questions for you." He leaned his head against Sam's. "Has this always been your room?"

From:

nola_cyclops

“I’ll answer them all if I can.” It was getting easier by the day to share things with Oliver. “And yes, I’ve always lived in this room.”

From:

nola_quicksilver

Sam had slept in this room as a baby. Oliver's heart grew two sizes just thinking about it. "And your father's never been around?"

From:

nola_cyclops

“Never. I don’t know anything about him, and I’ve never really wanted to.” Maybe he should look into it, especially with Scott’s dad issues. But he’d always been happy with his mom and aunt, and had never wanted to disrespect them by asking for more.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Sometimes it's better that way," Oliver said with a shrug. His own dad drifted in and out of his life as his leisure. "When did you stop playing baseball?"

From:

nola_cyclops

“I thought we were fine without him. Or I wanted us to be fine without him.” Sam definitely tried to be the family dad. “I think I would have been fourteen or fifteen when I stopped. I had a lot going on at the time. I like team sports though, surprise surprise.”

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I bet there's, like, a casual local league you could join. I'd wave flag for you in the stands or something." Oliver liked sports all right, but rarely gelled well with a team mentality.

From:

nola_cyclops

“You’re so sweet.” Sam kissed Oliver’s cheek, quickly. He wasn’t sure how much tile he should spend on hobbies anymore (what if suddenly Arcade switched on the “murder” part of this possible murderworld?!) but Oliver was so helpful and supportive.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Yes, extremely," Oliver said dryly. Sam was literally the only one who'd ever said so, except maybe his own mother, sarcastically. "I just want to show off my hot sporty boyfriend to strangers."

From:

nola_cyclops

Hot sporty boyfriend. Sam grinned. No one had called him that before. “I can’t believe how much I like you wanting to do that.”

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Sugar, you deserve to be flaunted." As Scott, as Sam. He was handsome, smart, accomplished, wonderful, and way out of Oliver's league in both iterations. He could hardly believed Sam had dragged some trash home to meet his family.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sugar. It was still a pleasure to hear. “You make me feel valuable.”

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Because you are," Oliver said, sounding surprised. Surely Sam knew that.

From:

nola_cyclops

It was complicated. But when Sam was with Oliver, it all became a lot less complicated. “You’ve stopped asking questions,” he pointed out, a slight shift.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver decided to let him get away with the subject change, He'd had a day, after all. But that didn't mean Oliver was going to give him easy questions.

"How did you lose your virginity?"