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 believed it, every word. "Sugar," he whispered, pulling Sam on top of him. It was a little clumsy, but he didn't care. "No one's ever made me feel like you do."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam didn’t care either; this was exactly where he wanted to be. “How do I make you feel?” He asked, even though he kissed Oliver before he could answer.

From:

nola_quicksilver

The kiss was so distracting that Oliver stayed quiet for a few long moments, hooking his arms over Sam's shoulders. When he finally remembered he had a question to answer, he gasped it out, forcing himself not to look away from Sam's eyes. "Overwhelmed. You make me feel so happy, so loved, so excited, so everything...I feel like a river that's flooding over."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam made Oliver feel like this. Sam! Boring old responsible old Sam-Scott-Sam! It genuinely was a miracle. Sam kept Oliver’s gaze, steady and shining and happy. “I know exactly what you mean.” He kissed Oliver again, a little harder this time, because god, that answer!

From:

nola_quicksilver

Sam might have made the kiss harder, but Oliver deepened it, holding onto Sam's shoulders, squeezing them through his shirt. God, Oliver was allowed to do this, to touch and kiss and hold him. Sam—Scott—trusted himself with Oliver, and that meant so much.

From:

nola_cyclops

He was more than allowed to do it; Sam wanted Oliver to do this. He wanted this all the time, and when Oliver wasn’t touching Sam, Sam was thinking about it. He slid his hands under Oliver’s shirt, tightly holding his sides, as tightly as Oliver was squeezing his shoulders. They were real, this was real; Sam could feel it.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver's muscles twitched slightly where Sam touched him, every little part of him tensed and waiting for his attention. He loved this, needed it forever. He'd fight to keep it if he had to, the nameless entity that'd brought them here or the people in Scott's past—Jean, Emma, even Xavier—who could lay claim to him too. He couldn't imagine going on without it, and perhaps that was the intent.

He broke the kiss, but dotted smaller ones on Sam's face—his cheek, his temple, his jaw—as he asked, "Just how loud is this bed?"

From:

nola_cyclops

“It’s not very loud,” Sam assured Oliver, who felt so alive under his hands, so alive and perfect and waiting to be devoured. “As long as we’re quiet…”

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Oh, well, since you kept me so quiet last time," Oliver teased, giving Sam a quick little hug.

From:

nola_cyclops

“I have a better plan this time.” To demonstrate, still grinning from that sweet little hug, Sam kissed Oliver at the same moment he ground down with his hips. You couldn’t be loud if you were being constantly kissed!

From:

nola_quicksilver

Well, it was an effective tactic—when Oliver cried out in surprised pleasure, it was muffled by the kiss. He rocked up to meet Sam, signaling his approval.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam grinned. It worked! And since he was on top of Oliver, his favorite place to be, he could whisper directly into his ear, “What do you want?”

From:

nola_quicksilver

What didn't Oliver want? As he considered that, he slowly ran his hands up and down Sam's back. "What did you fantasize about when you were hormonal and frustrated and in this bed?" Sam hadn't said no more questions!

From:

nola_cyclops

“You can’t answer a question with a question,” Sam replied, but he was still going to answer Oliver. “Mostly I just wanted someone to touch me, so I wasn’t only ever touched by myself…” Sam’s fantasies had been pretty tame.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Aw, I hope that works out for you someday." Oliver grinned and slid his hands down to Sam's ass.

From:

nola_cyclops

“You going to answer my question, or just make fun of me?” But Sam’s tone was light and unfazed, settling anew against Oliver with a nudge or two from his hips.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I hope to do both..." His breath hitched whenever Sam's hips shifted against his. "I want you to fuck me, but I don't want to have to stop touching you so I can find the condoms and lube."

From:

nola_cyclops

“How about you stop touching me to take your clothes off, and I’ll find the supplies?” But also, why not press down against Oliver again, and kiss him hard at the same time?

From:

nola_quicksilver

Hm, no, letting go of Sam wasn't going to work at all. If anything, Oliver clutched him tighter this time, and wrapped his legs around Sam's hips for good measure.

From:

nola_cyclops

“I can’t fuck you like this,” Sam murmured, but that didn’t stop him from kissing Oliver again, or from moving in a slow, teasing rhythm, like he might use later, if they ever let go of each other for long enough…

From:

nola_quicksilver

Couldn't he? Sam was smart, he'd figure out a solution eventually. But the kiss, the full-body touching, and simply hearing Sam say "fuck" was enough to make him too impatient to wait this out.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss and unwrapped his legs from Sam, freeing him. "Inside pocket of my suitcase," he said, because taking the time for a treasure hunt wasn't an option either.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam was up and on his feet quickly and quietly, shedding his clothes and opening Oliver’s suitcase and taking what they needed from it. It was a giddy thing, this rush to get back to Oliver, the way Sam’s body missed and craved his. Sam tucked his clothes into Oliver’s suitcase and held a hand out, which meant, silently, ‘Oliver, pass me yours.’ Efficiency!

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver rolled his eyes at him but was laughing at he passed over his clothes, which were mostly inside out from his haste to remove them.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam was smiling, of course he was, because Oliver was laughing at him and naked and he was doing both of those things in Sam’s childhood bedroom. Sam was back quickly, their belongings squared away, and he was kissing Oliver before he could do anything else, because he needed to. When he pulled away, he said quietly and breathlessly “I love your laugh.” It needed to be said.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I love laughing with you." Oliver laughed a lot with Sam, more than he'd ever expected, even after they'd started hooking up. Ssm's sense of humor was one of his favorite surprise discoveries.