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_cyclops

"Babe, no one is going to bat an eyelid about me doing laundry." Sam was still Sam, after all. "They've met me once or twice."

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver laughed. "God, how could I forget? We're where you developed all your weird talents."

From:

nola_cyclops

"I think most people would just call my weird talents 'housekeeping'."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Ugh, even the word for it is weird." He kissed Sam's forehead.

From:

nola_cyclops

"Everything about me is weird," Sam agreed, unbothered by it. That was easier to accept now he remembered Scott; being a weird mutant was, like, the least of his problems.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"That's what makes you perfect." Now he wrapped his arms around Sam, gathering him close. "Perfectly weird. Perfectly loving. Perfect to hold."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam curved comfortably and easily against him, where he belonged. "I don't know how you feel that way about me, but god, I'm so glad that you do."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I'm glad I do too." He couldn't say he'd wasted time in his previous time, because anything that had brought him Luna would never be a waste, but his aloof refusal to befriend more good people in his circle, like Scott, certainly hadn't done him any favors. "It hurts me to think I could've gone through my whole life without knowing you like this."

From:

nola_cyclops

"Me too," Sam replied slowly, thoughtfully. "And I think we would have. If we hadn't come here... now it seems so strange that I knew your father better than I knew you."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Do you want me to put all my clothes on?" Oliver still felt too good to be thinking about Magneto.

From:

nola_cyclops

"I don't ever want you to put your clothes on," Sam replied, hugging Oliver tighter just in case he got any ideas.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"That's going to make breakfast a little awkward," Oliver said, unable to keep from smiling again.

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam laughed, nudging him. "I realize my dreams are not all achievable. But go back to what you were saying before."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"About hating that we didn't know each other like this?"

From:

nola_cyclops

"Yes." Sam didn't ever want to stop Oliver from talking when he was sharing his feelings.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I don't know. I thought I'd had my one chance at love." He rested his head on the top of Sam's head. "I wouldn't have even thought to look at you for that, which is...tragic."

From:

nola_cyclops

"I've been thinking about that too. I wouldn't have thought to look at you, either, and not just because I was very sure I would not love anyone again." They were both so entrenched in their own lives, and spaces, and people, and problems.

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver's arms tightened around Sam, and he didn't speak for a few long moments. When he did, it was to say, "I'm glad we're here."

From:

nola_cyclops

"Do you want to stay here?" Sam asked, after another long moment.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"We don't have a choice right now." He couldn't open himself up for this discussion now. Couldn't think of Luna and Wanda, how there was empty spot in his life without them. But there'd been emptiness in his other life too, one that Sam filled so neatly.

From:

nola_cyclops

"You hold a lot back from me," Sam replied, quiet but not upset. It happened often, but it had happened a lot today -- Oliver would say something simple and keep harder things to himself. Sam noticed. "I'm not judging you for it. God knows I operate like that too. I understand it better than anyone. I don't want to ever force you into something you don't want to do, but I think... at some point, you might need to open up about all the things you shove aside. It doesn't have to be to me, but I hope you know, when that moment comes, that you can always come to me, and I'll always listen."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I don't..." Oliver found himself blinking back tears, and he had to take another moment to get that under control. Tonight had been happy. He wanted them to stay happy—both of them had had so little of that toward the end, as Scott and Pietro. It didn't make sense to him to heap pain back on. To talk about how Father's Day had been hell, how the Wanda in this world's indifference to him felt like he'd let her down somehow. They could be happy instead.

"I can't right now," he finally said. "But thank you."

From:

nola_cyclops

"I know. It's okay. I just want you to know that I see it. I see you. And I love you." Maybe one day he'd be able to show it in the ways Oliver showed it to Sam, like earlier today, in the middle of a field full of broken dreams and failures and enormous hopes.