Characters: Scott, Sam with a lil implied Sam/Bobby
Rating: sorta R
Summary: oops, caught... A sequel of sorts to 'Small Talk'
Disclaimer: Marvel's but they should so totally pay me to do this, right? right?
Sam wasn’t used to being in trouble. And he’s not counting the years spent with X-Force because that was an entirely different sort of trouble than what he was about to face. Living under the radar, covert-ops and being on about everyone’s terrorist watch list was a trouble he’d gotten in because of a very clear choice. It was a choice to take on a fight that had to be fought. Getting called to Scott’s office for what was essentially a stupid mistake made during a rescue mission the X-Men could do in their sleep…well that was just embarrassing.
“Sit down Sam,” Scott said, as coolly professional as he ever was which only served to irk Sam even more. “And tell me what’s going on.”
“With regards to what, Scott?” Sam sat, and stopped himself from getting too defensive, stopped himself from crossing his arms and glaring. There wouldn’t be any point to it since it was himself he was irritated with, not Scott. Scott was only doing what a leader should do, what Sam himself had done from time to time. He did make sure to keep his eyes on the other man’s face, even though he was pretty sure he knew what was coming. Scott gave away more than people realized with what facial expressions could be seen, and it helped that Sam could guess what most of them meant since those expressions seemed to be a trait of the Summers gene pool.
“With regards to you flying into a collapsing building after I specifically told you not to. What were you thinking?”
“Scott, at the risk of sounding really rude, I know the lecture okay? How ‘bout you just give it so I can go and beat my head against a wall or somethin’.”
“Uh huh…” Scott’s mouth twitched, as if he found something Sam said amusing. “I’ve got a better idea, Sam. You give the lecture.”
“Are you serious?”
“Humor me.” The voice was so perfectly deadpan and the smile so flat and…Summers-ish that Sam found himself reconsidering his previous decision. Maybe he was irritated with Scott enough to indulge in a tantrum after all. He did indulge in a slouch at least, sinking into the chair he occupied until the arms were the only thing keeping him from sliding right to the floor.
“By disobeying a direct order I not only undermined your authority as field leader but also endangered-”
Scott held up a hand. “That’s not the lecture I was going to give.”
“Which one then?” Sam was already shuffling through the past few days, trying to think of anything that deserved a lecture. There was the ‘be-jizzo’ (aka BJISSO or Blow Job Incident in Scott Summers’ Office; ™Bobby Drake) a while back but Sam would bet money that they were in the clear and Bobby was being paranoid to think that their increased training hours were some sort of punishment.
“The one about how tricky our kind of work gets when teammates start forming more intimate relationships and how it’s not a bad thing but it is imperative for those involved to maintain a certain level of objectivity and focus when in the field despite the dangers a boyfriend might be facing.”
Sam, apparently, would lose that bet. ‘Boyfriend’ Scott had said, without even skipping a beat. ‘Boyfriend’ said so easily when Bobby had only just managed to say it himself without stumbling over the word. Sam winced, wondering if anyone else had made the connection yet. Not that they were actively hiding their relationship, but Bobby said he didn’t want to advertise that he and Sam had become more than buddies. And Sam, recalling the altogether unhealthy X-obsession with discussing how often Bobby messes up his relationships, couldn’t really find fault with that want.
“You didn’t go in there to help Bobby with those two kids he found.” Scott continued, coming from behind his desk to lean against its front. His body language, his tone shifted from ‘concerned field leader’ to ‘concerned mentor’ faster than Sam was able to keep up with just then. “You went in there to help Bobby. So, since we’re back to where we started, tell me what’s going on Sam. With Bobby.”
“I think you already know.” Sam watched Scott’s face more diligently than ever.
“I made an educated guess or two.”
“You want all the juicy details, Scotty?”
Scott arched one brow high over his visor, but let the comment go. “How long?”
“Almost two months.”
“Ah, well it’s…” Sam had to give him self a silent congratulations for not blushing. “We got us a good thing goin’.”
“Sam, the two of you work well together; really well together. So well together that it would hurt the team to have to keep you on different field rosters but it would hurt us more if-”
“I know.” Sam gave up just a little; the defensive front at least. He really didn’t want to sit through anymore of this lecture. Or discussion rather, ‘lecture’ would be a bit unfair with ‘friendly’ Scott giving him every opportunity to talk it out. “I know the speech, I’ve given it. I know I messed up and I know how I messed up and I’m sorry. I totally had a Bobby-moment.”
“Dare I ask?”
“I freaked out.” Sam shrugged helplessly. “Which is something Bobby can be really good at.”
“Bobby is also really good at taking care of himself. He has been doing this longer than you have. You have to trust me when I’m calling orders in the field. You have to trust that I do remember that.”
“I get it, Scott, I do but I just-”
“Freaked out.” Scott’s mouth twitched again.
“You don’t freak out Sam.”
To which Sam wasn’t sure how to respond, because Scott was very much correct. Sam doesn’t freak out…at least not in the field, not when there was work to do. He learned that a long time ago, way before Nathan’s influence. He’d learned that one from his Pa who had told him on many occasions how panic was not something a man could afford when he was in the mines. In the event of a cave in, panic had to be focused into very careful action or it would result in death coming that much sooner…usually.
He had panicked today when he saw the last supporting beams go. Panicked and flew right in after Bobby without even considering that Bobby was about as invulnerable as he was when iced up…probably even more so these days.
What had he been thinking?
Bobby had been inside a collapsing building.
Sam didn’t want anyone else to die.
Which was about as far as his thinking had gone before he acted.
Scott smiled again, warm and friendly and open and so…brotherly that Sam found himself smiling back and blushing before he realized it. It was the same smile Scott gave him when he first ‘graduated’ to the X-men, back when Sam still referred to Scott as ‘sir’. It was a good smile to have sent your way, easy going, indulgent, nice…a silent ‘hey, it’s okay’ if Sam ever saw one.
“So,” Scott said. “Have you told him how you feel?”
“Uh, not yet.”
“It’s a big deal, you know? What if he’s not ready?”
“Sam, I’ve known Bobby since he was thirteen and with all that’s happened lately it’s good to see-” Scott went quiet suddenly, and pursed his lips the way he did when trying to think about how to say something. “It’s good; you and Bobby. It’s a good thing, just tell him how you feel, okay Sam? And tell him often. He needs to hear it.”
“Tell him. Or
“Emma’s a gossip?”
“You did not hear that from me.”