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return_to_nolaSam 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."
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."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 10:34 pm (UTC)God, Oliver was beautiful like this. He was beautiful all the tome, but especially like this, when he was so in his body. Sam touched Oliver’s face, his cheek, easing off with his hand and leaning into him, like he was offering Oliver something solid to anchor himself.
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Date: 2019-07-03 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 10:52 pm (UTC)Sam let out a short, surprised burst of breath at Oliver's abrupt movements - since when did Oliver throw Sam around?! - but he had to be quiet! So he grinned, and worked his hand into Oliver hair, and told him quietly, as much as he could speak with Oliver's mouth on him, "I better never miss you at all..."
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Date: 2019-07-03 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 11:01 pm (UTC)Oh, this was too perfect to last. Love was amazing; it made this! Sam covered his own mouth with his free hand as he came, though he quickly pulled his hand from Oliver's hair so he wouldn't feel stuck there in the warm, perfect, sudden moment.
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Date: 2019-07-03 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 11:15 pm (UTC)Oliver was so sweet-looking, curled up there next to Sam. It could make his heart burst. Sam stroked his hair, silent for a few beats as he tried to pull his mind back together. "I can't believe it," he marveled, when he could speak. How had this all been one day? How were they never tired of each other? How did their bodies roar to life against each other like this?
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Date: 2019-07-03 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 11:22 pm (UTC)"Yes. Well, yes, when one of the three hasn't been psychic." Telepaths. But best to not linger on that; better to stroke through Oliver's hair, lovingly. "Is it yours?"
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Date: 2019-07-03 11:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 11:28 pm (UTC)"God, all I get from my powers is headaches and an excellent grasp on trigonometry." It didn't really compare!
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Date: 2019-07-04 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 12:34 am (UTC)"You're my other gift." Was that cheesy? Too bad. Sam meant it.
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Date: 2019-07-04 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 12:43 am (UTC)Sam laughed quietly, touching Oliver's hand. "I'm not sorry, but also, thank you."
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Date: 2019-07-04 12:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 12:53 am (UTC)"Well, both. Mostly the ass thing." Which wasn't true at all, it was the love that kept him going, but also, what a compliment!
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Date: 2019-07-04 12:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 01:01 am (UTC)"Come up here with me." Oliver was too far away; what if he fell asleep down there, where they couldn't curl into each other, throw protective arms around each other in the middle of the night, if there was any night left at this point?
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Date: 2019-07-04 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 01:08 am (UTC)Sam laughed quietly, because he appreciated those dramatics. Wow, all the sex and feelings had really done something to his brain. "I am?" Since when?! But Sam moved obediently onto his side, glancing back at Oliver for approval.
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Date: 2019-07-04 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 01:16 am (UTC)There it was. The care. It could almost make Sam cry. "Oh," he said quietly, taking it in. He was so loved. He was an absolute mess and he was still loved.
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Date: 2019-07-04 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 01:25 am (UTC)If Sam fell asleep and saw Xavier's body at his feet -- the nightmare he feared the most of all his greatest terrifying hits tonight -- he would be safe in Oliver's arms. If he never went back, or even if he did, they would still have this. This had so much power. "I love you," he murmured into the dark, relaxing into the closeness, giving in to it.
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