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

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

From:

nola_quicksilver

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

From:

nola_cyclops

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

From:

nola_quicksilver

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

From:

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."

From:

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."

From:

nola_cyclops

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

From:

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.

From:

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."

From:

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?"

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam hadn't been expecting that. He wasn't prepared for that. "I... what?"

From:

nola_quicksilver

"You could barely think of one thing you wanted for yourself as Scott. You didn't even say you wanted me. You expect so little out of life and that hurts me." He took a shaky breath and kept his eyes squeezed shut, because he couldn't deal with how Sam might be looking at him now.

From:

nola_cyclops

"I'm sorry... I never want to hurt you. But of course I want you as Scott." He had said it over and over, and would keep saying it. The rest, well, was true.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"It's not about me," and now Oliver opened his eyes. "I mean, you couldn't even name a sure thing like me? It's like not even being able to say you'd want a bed—which you also couldn't give yourself, by the way."

From:

nola_cyclops

"Scott's life is in freefall. I, he, has nothing but a costume dug up from the ruins of the school, a handful of clothing, and his glasses. As far as I know almost the entire mutant population is dead or disappeared. I was supposed to be dead. My life... it's been broken for a long time." Since Apocalypse. Since The Professor. Since death. "And I'm failing at my life. I don't know how to put it back together..."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"I'll be there to help you figure it out," Oliver said forcefully. "To build a life with you. But I don't know if even want one."

From:

nola_cyclops

"I do." Sam was quiet, but he was sure. He was afraid of wanting, but he wanted.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Then tell me what you want, Scott." A tear ran down Oliver's cheek, and he scrubbed at it angrily, impatient with himself.

From:

nola_cyclops

He wanted to never make Oliver or Pietro cry. "I want stability. I want a home with you. I want the level of death and terror to be less debilitating. I want to figure out a new way to live in that world. I want to protect you, and us, and our people. I want to do good..." God, was he going to cry? He choked a little on it. "And be useful, and be in service to our people. And I want to love you, even though I know it's harder there, where all our most hurtful past relationships are, yes, I would marry you there." Maybe these weren't real things. Maybe they were ideas he couldn't really hold onto yet. But that was what he wanted.

From:

nola_quicksilver

"Then we'll make it happen, all of it," Oliver told him, and pushed in close, kissing Sam's face over and over. "I'll be there with you, I'll help you."

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam wrapped his arms around Oliver, keeping him close, eyes closed in the rain of kisses he was so, so grateful for. God, sometimes they were just like their fathers. "I believe you," he promised. "I trust you. I promise, I'm not going to give up on any life, not if you're there."

From:

nola_quicksilver

"No you're not," Oliver agreed with steel in his voice, still kissing him. "Especially not with all these proposal hints you're throwing around—you're not getting off that easily." Sam had tried to get away with not telling him he loved him, not asking to be boyfriend, not asking to share rooms. Oliver was getting a goddamn proposal!

From:

nola_cyclops

Sam laughed. It was a sudden, bright break in his mood. Oliver, who had flatly refused to every marry again, was going to marry Sam one day. "Babe, you better hope we go back, because I will propose to you in two different worlds."

From:

nola_quicksilver

Oliver laughed too, and another tear escaped, but this one was pure catharsis and relief. "Of course you will, proposing's like Scott's favorite thing."