Oliver

[nola_cyclops]

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."

Comments

[nola_quicksilver]

Maybe he needed an example. "Like, for me, I'd want a home with at least two bedrooms," Oliver explained. "Nothing insurmountable, right?"

[nola_cyclops]

It would be an adjustment, Pietro the Avenger and Scott the... not anything. “Right. We could have that.”

[nola_quicksilver]

"And you would want..." Oliver tried to wait patiently.

[nola_cyclops]

This should be easy, right? He could have anything, except he was famously recognizable as a famously reviled mutant and probably wanted on various charges. But even if that all eased, and he had relative freedom, the regular kind you could have in a world that hates and fears you, what would he want to do with it? What could he add to their lives?

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver stroked his hair. "Sam, it can be anything. A toaster oven. A yoga studio within walking distance. A new hat. Just something little you want for yourself."

[nola_cyclops]

Sam knew, and it could make his heart burst, or break, that if all he wanted in their other new life for sure was a toaster oven? Oliver would show up with it first and foremost. “I always wanted to read Ulysses,” he finally decided on. It was a pathetic answer from being back in the shoes of a man who had forgotten how to want anything that wasn’t mutant related.

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver didn't think it was pathetic. "That's perfect," he breathed in relief, touching his forehead to Sam's. Because nothing meant something more than not being sure of survival—nothing meant he'd been sure of it, or even counted on it. "You'll relax and be a book nerd."

[nola_cyclops]

Scott had, maybe, counted on it. But there was love now. Dying in battle so his team could live couldn't be his best-case scenario anymore. Hopefully the comics he had read weren't predicting his future; hopefully if he returned he would have both of his eyes. "I'm not sure about relaxing, but I can definitely be a book nerd."

[nola_quicksilver]

"Can you be a book nerd with me pushing my way into your lap while you're reading?" Because it was going to happen.

[nola_cyclops]

"Do I not seem like someone who can focus through anything?" Sam replied, even smiling a little. Yeah, they could live like that.

[nola_quicksilver]

"Well, I'd be trying very hard to distract you with my 'nice' face." He might have to try very, very hard, with faint praise like that.

[nola_cyclops]

Sam reached out and took Oliver's face between his hands, which felt a little like reaching out after too much interior thought. He held it, studied it, smiled. "I'm picturing Pietro's face with this expression on it."

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver was fighting a smile of his own. It would be so annoying when Sam was being adorable. "And?"

[nola_cyclops]

"And I want to kiss it." In lieu of Pietro's face, he kissed Oliver's warmly.

[nola_quicksilver]

It could also be annoying when Sam said the exact right thing. Oliver melted into the kiss, which was sweet and loving and precisely what he needed as they questioned life in a world they might never return to. Maybe he'd been right earlier—they didn't know it was going to happen, so why stress about it right now? Right now he was safe and happy, naked and kissing a man he cherished. Right now was so good.

[nola_cyclops]

Right now really was so good. Which meant, after the kiss, Sam said "Now if we stay here..."

[nola_quicksilver]

"...you want to read The Hobbit?" He started playing with Sam's hair again, hoping they stayed in a lighter mood.

[nola_cyclops]

"You think I haven't read The Hobbit?" Sam was almost offended! "But there are so many things I want."

[nola_quicksilver]

"Tell me," Oliver said, brushing aside the Hobbit issue. (It had been the first thickish book that popped into his head.)

[nola_cyclops]

It was easier to dream here, if Sam let himself let go of his legacy and duty even a little. "A house full of light, with a studio for you, and a yard. Maybe I would start a garden, grow vegetables. A wedding, because one day I'm going to marry you. Maybe a cabin in the woods for vacations by a lake. Fishing and reading and you sketching in the natural light. Introducing our mothers."

[nola_quicksilver]

Oliver felt tears come to his eyes, not just because these were such sweet and loving hopes for their future together, but because the ease of naming them was in such stark contrast to what Sam envisioned for Scott's future. He forced a smile, though, and said, "We can introduce our mothers whenever you want. If you asked Mama for permission to marry me, it'd probably make her faint with joy."

[nola_cyclops]

Sam touched Oliver's cheek, because there were tears in his eyes, and Sam couldn't ignore it. "Oliver?"

[nola_quicksilver]

"I'm happy," Oliver told him, which wasn't a lie. He was just also sad at the same time. He turned his face to kiss Sam's hand and closed his eyes, willing the tears away.

[nola_cyclops]

Sam stroked Oliver's cheek with his thumb, quiet. "You can cry. You don't even have to explain why, if you don't want to. But you can let things out if you need to. I'm right here to hold you."

[nola_quicksilver]

It was so tempting to just let it go, to let the moment pass. But Oliver found himself bursting out, eyes still closed, with, "Why can't Scott go fishing, and garden, and marry me too?"