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| Familial Support; Afternoon Before the Big Event | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 26 2012, 04:52 PM (730 Views) | |
| Cyclops | Jun 7 2012, 08:47 PM Post #16 |
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The real Slim Shady
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"Seriously?" Lorna blurted out before she could stop herself, because living with Alex for years hadn't exactly improved her internal filters. "Do you hear what you're saying, Scott?" Yeah, Scott was pretty sure that hadn't come out right. But he wasn't entirely sure how else to put it into words, either. Talking sucked. He should've kept his fucking mouth shut. He couldn't put this shit into the right words in his own head; how the hell could he say it aloud? "Jean doesn't want you to be perfect," Lorna said more kindly[.] "She already thinks you're perfect for her, that's all she wants." He sighed and hung his head. Lorna was right. Undoubtedly right. And it wasn't that Scott was doubting that Jean loved him...because she did. One of the side-benefits of a permanent mental link was that he could feel it. Constantly. But Scott wasn't sure that Jean, or even Lorna really, understood exactly how bad this could go. "Now you can argue with us all you want, but we're a piece of cake compared to her, so good luck with that." He figured he could take her through the step by step process, but he was beginning to think it was going to be a waste of time. Why bother? Scott had no desire to actually fight with them. Didn't matter, though, because that choice was mooted by Alex losing his shit. "Horse's. Ass," Alex [glowered]. "Perfect? Let's ignore for a second that that's the kind of unreasonable demand that Jean would never make of you. You, Scott, have more issues than ... than ...You have a lot of issues. And you're sure as shit never going to be perfect. Did you really think you were going to pull all your outstanding crap together by the wedding day when you proposed?" What the hell? Whose brother was this, again? Because, at this point, Scott was pretty sure he'd just seen conclusive proof that Alex liked Jean better. That aside, though, Alex had it so fucking wrong that Scott didn't even know where to start. He hadn't meant actually perfect. But hell if he'd get the chance to explain that, because his younger brother appeared to be on a roll. "You are getting married tomorrow, Scott. Enjoy it, have an aneurysm, whatever. It's going to happen. And I'm going to give a speech, and the whole thing will be one of those fucking magical moments that makes us get all weepy in our twilight years. Get used to the idea, fuckstick, because I love you and Jean too much to let you screw this up with that overactive fucking brain of yours." Scott kept to himself that he'd probably ruin the wedding just as badly if he had a motherfucking aneurysm because Alex had jabbed him roughly in the elbow, and Scott was pretty sure that if he didn't let his brother be the fuckheaded one this time there would be actual violence. And Jean would be pissed as hell if Scott showed up to the wedding smelling like plasma and covered in bruises. She'd be even madder if he had to confess that he'd accidentally killed Alex. But it didn't matter, because he'd managed to keep his mouth shut long enough that Alex was stomping off like a deranged preschooler. "Now if you'll fucking excuse me, I have a fucking moving, poignant-as-shit toast to compose." Confused, and definitely surprised, though his placid face didn't much show it, Scott just shook his head a little. What the fuck had that overreaction been about? "Did you change his meds or something?" He asked Lorna, perplexed. "What the fuck is his problem?" |
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| Polaris | Jun 8 2012, 05:46 PM Post #17 |
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Asparagus Lass
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Really. Had Scott even just heard the words flying out of his mouth? At all? Because damned if Lorna wasn't seriously starting to wonder if they really did need to go and fetch Hank and have him do...something. Something Hank-like that could hopefully put a stop to the Summers Nuclear Meltdown of Illogical Idiocy that her pseudo-brother-in-law's thought processes had apparently devolved into. Which was, apparently, something along the lines of 'must achieve perfection via nervous breakdown'. Which, honestly, really didn't seem to be working out very well for him. It was slightly encouraging that even Scott seemed to finally click onto the fact that he was possibly losing his mind a little, hanging his head and sighing. But she could practically still see the wheels turning in there and knew he was gearing up for another 'explanation' of why he really did need to develop a dozen different nervous ticks just in time for the wedding. Lorna opened her mouth to try to head it off - though who the hell knew why, since she was bashing her head against the infamous Summers stubbornness, which was a hell of a lot harder than anything anyone had ever laced any of Logan's bones with - only to get cut off, by, well... Alex totally flipping his shit. Wonderful. Now it was both of them. With a long suffering sigh, and wondering how in the hell she had ever managed to get in between Scott and Alex without a supply of mace, a tazer, two psychoanalysts, and a whole fucking X-Men team of backup, Lorna massaged one temple with her index and forefinger, trying to ease the throbbing that had taken up resident as the ranting and poking began. Hopefully, whatever else Emma Frost brought to the bachelorette party tonight, there would be lots of alcohol. She was pretty sure that was the only thing that would save her sanity at this point. "Alex...Hon," she tried to interject without any success at all, because Alex was on a roll. A roll that was about as coherent as the crap Scott had been spouting since they walked in, but a roll none the less. Knowing it was best to just let him have at it, before he blew a blood vessel, too, she just glanced over at Scott, who looked a little gobsmacked, and wondered if her own, massive, mental screech of frustration was going to knock out every telepath within a 50 foot radius. Ranting over, Alex stomped out with a promise of, "Now if you'll fucking excuse me, I have a fucking moving, poignant-as-shit toast to compose." Oh, Yeah. That should go over amazingly well. His eloquence, that's why she loved him. Though right now Lorna would've happily throttled him, and Scott in the bargain. "Did you change his meds or something?" [Scott] asked Lorna, perplexed. "What the fuck is his problem?" Oh good god, where to even start on that one. Resisting the urge to facepalm again, Lorna shook her head instead, giving Scott a pointed look and arching an eyebrow. "Well, we can start with the last name being Summers, but I've got a whole list if you've got a spare hour or two." Sighing again, which she seemed to be doing a whole fucking lot of in this conversation, Lorna reached up to rub her temples again, then looked back over at Scott. "He just wants you to be happy, Scott, like you should be. Instead of freaking yourself out about what might or might not happen later." God, same issues, different reactions. She got that, she was pretty sure Jean did, too, but Alex and Scott couldn't see it. "You're all the family he has," Well, except for the Space Pirate and the Alien Cat Lady, but she was pretty sure mentioning those right now would bring up a whole other set of issues, "And he's worried you're just going to sabotage yourself because you think you will." Pausing, she frowned and added, "Well, worried in his own, unique Alex kind of way." |
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| Cyclops | Jun 8 2012, 06:42 PM Post #18 |
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The real Slim Shady
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What the fucking hell had that been? Scott was stuck in a mental spiral. He knew that. He'd been doing it since he was prepubescent, after all, and it was one of the first things that annoying as shit psychologist had told him. He'd focus on every possible outcome in his personal relationships and he'd fixate on trying to control the scenarios. Or so the bitch had said, anyway. Something about his coping mechanisms. Then she'd suggested that whenever Scott realized he was trying to micromanage his personal relationships that he do something productive with his energy. Unfortunately, there was nothing productive he could really do right now. But at least, unlike Alex, he wasn't exploding into inexplicable shit-flipping. What the fuck was his problem? Lorna shook her head [. . .], giving Scott a pointed look and arching an eyebrow. "Well, we can start with the last name being Summers, but I've got a whole list if you've got a spare hour or two." He rolled his eyes behind his glasses and shook his head a little. "No way, Dane. You do not get to pin this on fucked up genetics that I happen to share." Scott smirked a little. "And he said I have issues." Which, okay, he did have issues. And he knew it. But he was not letting that level of hypocrisy from Alex go unremarked on. Lorna reached up to rub her temples again, then looked back over at Scott. "He just wants you to be happy, Scott, like you should be. Instead of freaking yourself out about what might or might not happen later." Was that what she'd gotten out of that? Because all Scott had gotten out of it was that Alex thought he was a fuckhead and was as far from perfect as could possibly be - which was only partly true. Besides, it wasn't as though Scott wasn't excited about marrying Jean; it wasn't that he wasn't happy, in the big scheme. He was, hell he was fucking thrilled to be marrying Jean, even it was terrifying. He just couldn't help but worry that maybe, somewhere way later, Jean might not be quite as thrilled about having married him. "You're all the family he has," [Lorna pointed out], "And he's worried you're just going to sabotage yourself because you think you will." Self-fulfilling prophecy. That's what the useless shrink had told him. You don't make friends because you're convinced you can't, not because you're unable to. Ugh. Scott really didn't want to be forced to realize that he was regressing back to being fourteen. Hell, even Jean hadn't liked him then. But the bigger question was, "that's what's you got out of that pile of crazy?" Pausing, she frowned and added, "Well, worried in his own, unique Alex kind of way." "How moving," Scott said dryly. But Lorna had always had the inner track on Alex's mind - which was part of why she was so terrifying - so maybe she was right. Maybe Alex was pissed off for no understandable reason because he was worried about Scott. Or maybe not, but Scott was worried about pissing off Lorna. "Look, it's not that I'm not happy about marrying Jean. I am. I'm ecstatic. And if I thought it was doomed no matter what I did, I wouldn't have proposed to her." Scott figured it'd be better if he left out that he almost hadn't proposed to her for that exact reason. "And I appreciate the concern. I do." He could've kept going - could've explained that anyone who'd ever met his father could see how Scott would fuck up coming. And it would come, he had no doubt. But Lorna was looking overwhelmed, and if he managed to screw up Jean's bridal party he suspected she would hurt him. |
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| Polaris | Jun 8 2012, 08:05 PM Post #19 |
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Asparagus Lass
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Lorna just snorted, and gave Scott that look again. Issues didn't even begin to cover it. For him or for Alex. They were practically marinating in issues. Deny it all he wanted, the giant-ass spray painting was on the wall. What that said about her and Jean, she decided, was better left unpondered. Instead, and despite the fact that she could practically feel Scott rolling his damned eyes behind his glasses, Lorna made what was likely yet another completely futile attempt to translate one dialect of Summers brother into something the other could understand. How she'd gotten this job, she wasn't quite sure, but she was sure it had something to do with the fact she hadn't rendered either or both of them unconscious as soon as things looked like they might turn into a giant trainwreck. In other words, about the time the two of them had moved into the same 100 square meter area. "That's what's you got out of that pile of crazy?" He asked and Lorna rolled her eyes and shrugged. He'd asked, she'd answered. If he didn't like the answer, not her problem. She called it like she saw it. "I've been speaking Alex since before I could drive," she retorted, "So yes, that's what I got out of it." That, combined with a lot of years experience and a lot of background information gave her some pretty damned impressive translator qualifications as far as she was concerned. "How moving," Scott said dryly. Lorna reminded herself, very firmly, that she loved Scott. He was the closest thing she had to a brother. And Jean would be really, really pissed if he showed up for the wedding covered in head and facial bruises, electrocuted, or in a coma from repeated slamming against the wall. And then Alex would be pissed again because he didn't get to give his 'poignant-as-shit toast'. Which he hadn't wanted to give anyway, but Lorna already knew that logic had absolutely no place in any of this. "Look, it's not that I'm not happy about marrying Jean. I am. I'm ecstatic. And if I thought it was doomed no matter what I did, I wouldn't have proposed to her." Scott figured it'd be better if he left out that he almost hadn't proposed to her for that exact reason. "And I appreciate the concern. I do." The unsaid But hanging in there was about the size of a 747. She knew it, Scott knew it. Hell, as obvious as it was, people out on the lawn probably knew it. But she also know there really was no way to get reason to penetrate if he had his mind set against it. Taking a deep breath, Lorna let it out slowly, reaching over to give Scott's arm a quick squeeze. "I know you do," she replied with a small smile, one that turned crooked as she added, "Mostly. I know you're happy to be marrying Jean, you should be. You've both waited damned near forever." Grinning a little, the green haired woman added, "But I know you're also wondering what can go wrong, how you can avoid it or how you can fix it. Strategizing. It's what you do, Scott. With everything. Always. It makes you a great leader, but life doesn't work the same way as X-Men battle strategy, y'know." And he damned well should know, since they'd had enough random, inexplicable shit smash into their lives to do them the next eighty years or so. They'd have damned well planned for, and avoided, all that if they could've. Dropping her eyes thoughtfully for a second, Lorna tried to collect her own thoughts before looking back up at Scott. "You know, Jean had her...thing," she waved her hand to indicate the thing. There one where Jean lost it and nearly killed everyone. "And, well, I had my thing." The handwave again, to indicate the thing. The one where she turned into Malice, and also nearly killed everyone. "You and Alex dealt with all that, and you're both still here, sticking it out. So, give us some credit for being able to do the same thing. Jean's tougher than that, she's not gonna decide ten years from now, or whenever, that she wants a divorce because you won't pick up your own damned socks." |
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| Cyclops | Jun 8 2012, 08:44 PM Post #20 |
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The real Slim Shady
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"I know you do," Lorna said to his assertion that he appreciated her and Alex's, perhaps batshit-crazy-voiced concern. "Mostly. I know you're happy to be marrying Jean, you should be. You've both waited damned near forever." Everyone Scott talked to kept saying "finally" when they found out he and Jean were getting married. Like it had been a foregone conclusion and a long time coming. He guessed her should just be grateful that everyone was apparently so confident in his ability to somehow con his girl into marrying him. At this point, Scott kind of wished he had that kind of blind courage in himself. Grinning a little, the green haired woman added, "But I know you're also wondering what can go wrong, how you can avoid it or how you can fix it. Strategizing. It's what you do, Scott. With everything. Always. It makes you a great leader, but life doesn't work the same way as X-Men battle strategy, y'know." And Scott knew that she was right. And suspected that she was also wrong. Because, yeah, okay. Maybe it was true he couldn't micromanage his personal relationships. People had free will, and very few of them appreciated it when he forcibly shoved them into discrete categories. But strategy wasn't just about knowing the other person, it was about knowing oneself. And just because Lorna (and that court-mandated therapist) assured him that he couldn't control the will of others, nor should he try and manipulate them into behaving as he expected them to, that didn't mean he shouldn't prepare for the stupid shit he might do. "You know, Jean had her...thing," his pseudo-sister-in-law told him, waving her hand to indicate how all encompassing it had been. How shitty. Yeah, he remembered Jean's thing. "And, well, I had my thing." The handwave again, to indicate the thing. Another golden memory that senility would hopefully erase one day. "You and Alex dealt with all that, and you're both still here, sticking it out. So, give us some credit for being able to do the same thing. Jean's tougher than that, she's not gonna decide ten years from now, or whenever, that she wants a divorce because you won't pick up your own damned socks." Fuck, but this was frustrating as hell. Lorna just wasn't getting it - she wasn't pulling together the signs on the side of the road and maybe that wasn't her fault. It was different, Scott guessed, for someone used to Alex's particular brand of self-doubt. Oh, Scott was aware that his younger brother had just as many issues as he did. Similar ones, even, but they expressed themselves differently. Hell, he's been Havok's field leader before, too. He'd had to know him. Well enough, anyway, to know what he'd do in high pressure situations. But the key was that they were, at the heart of it all, very, very different. So hell, maybe he'd have to spell it out. Actually put this navel-gazing bullshit into words to get Lorna to stop harping on him like he was blowing little crap out of proportion. "It's not that I don't trust Jean to handle the piddly, stupid-ass stuff that I do," Scott finally replied, seriously, though perhaps crudely. "Jean loves me, and she's been putting up with my shit for years; she's intimately familiar with it." All of that was true, and Scott knew it. "It's the big stuff. You've met Corsair?" He asked his pseudo-sister-in-law. He suspected she had; Alex might not hang out with their dad either, but Scott didn't think he avoided the man the way that Scott himself did. "The Professor, he told me once he saw a lot of my father in me." It was the kind of thing that most people would assume was meant as a compliment. But given who Corsair was, and that the speaker was Charles Xavier, Scott was less certain. "My father watched his wife shove his sons out of a plane, and when he finally had the means to look for them, he didn't." Lorna undoubtedly knew that part. "You know why? Because his dedication to his team outweighed his responsibility to his family. Corsair's priorities were never quite right, and he took the Starjammers over us every time." His voice was even, and honestly Scott wasn't even that upset. He'd turned out as alright as he suspected he could have, given what had come after his and Alex's parachute jaunt. Who the fuck even knew what would've happened if Christopher Summers had come looking for his sons? Besides, it had all lead to Scott meeting Jean, after all. But, "that was what Xavier saw in me, Lorna. That dedication to the team. I don't want to fuck over my family that way." |
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| Polaris | Jun 9 2012, 10:54 AM Post #21 |
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Asparagus Lass
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Stubborn. Holy god, she had never met two men more stubborn in her entire life than Alex and Scott Summers. And today, he seemed to be reaching all new heights of stubbornness today. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised, considering the circumstances, people, and issues involved, but Lorna's aggravation and annoyance and desire to attempt to physically pound a few realizations into Scott's head was slowly but surely turning to concern. He really was locked onto this, and maybe couldn't, instead of just wouldn't, let it go. He and Alex were different, sure, but still cut from similar molds. Even putting that aside, she'd known Scott as long, actually slightly longer, than she'd known Alex. She didn't have to be a telepath to see a lot of what she was saying bouncing off his skull like ping pong balls. "It's not that I don't trust Jean to handle the piddly, stupid-ass stuff that I do," Scott finally replied, seriously, though perhaps crudely. "Jean loves me, and she's been putting up with my shit for years; she's intimately familiar with it." Lorna couldn't help rolling her eyes again. Right. This was Scott, who was going to latch onto something in the most literal damn sense possible. That hadn't been exactly what she meant, but she also knew he wasn't being deliberately obtuse that time. Probably. But this once she'd give hm the benefit of the doubt. "It's the big stuff. You've met Corsair?" He asked his pseudo-sister-in-law, which, of course she had, but nodded anyway. It was hard to forget space pirates that turned up at the house in the middle of the desert claiming to be your boyfriend's long lost father. Some days she wondered how she could even have memories like that and still be marginally sane. "The Professor, he told me once he saw a lot of my father in me." Oh for... So that was it. Some damned, likely off-handed, comment that the Professor had made years ago that Scott had latched onto and assigned way more importance than it actually had (for a telepath, the Professor had a disturbing habit of sticking his foot in his mouth and all the way down his throat every time they turned around). Something should've told her it would all, somehow, come back to Corsair and what'd happened to him and Alex as kids. Didn't it always? But this was Scott. Talking. Honestly. It didn't happen enough for her to do anything but listen. "That was what Xavier saw in me, Lorna. That dedication to the team. I don't want to fuck over my family that way." Lorna sighed, not in exasperation but...sympathy, maybe? Hell, she didn't know, but she did know that, unsurprisingly, Scott was overlooking a pretty damned important piece of the puzzle by focusing on the trees and not even knowing what forest he was in. This time, he was just making it almost to easy. "Scott," Lorna began slowly, both eyebrows climbing toward her hairline, "the X-Men are your family. They always have been." As much as Alex was his family, in a lot of ways. Hell, Jean knew that, they were her family, too. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't dedicated to them." She understood what he was worried about, though, just not why, other than he'd just worked himself up into such a damned mess he hadn't picked up on the obvious. "But why the hell are you worried about something you and Jean've already been though?" Shaking her head again,the green haired woman continued with, "Look, when Jean needed you, you were there. You took her and went to Alaska and didn't look back, team or no team. I'm guessing you're not going to have any bigger shit than that to deal with." Or, god, she hoped not because there were only so many times any of them could go crazy and try to kill everybody before it got really damned old. "And my guess is you'd still be there if she hadn't been ready to come back. And you'd do it again, if you needed to." Lorna smiled at him a little crookedly. "So you can freak yourself out for no damn good reason if you want, but at least look at all the evidence, Mr. Logical Strategist, before you make that decision. I don't give a damn what the Professor said, you're not Corsair. Not in the way you mean." Gotcha. He'd probably try to wriggle out of it, god knew, but she wasn't gonna make it easy for him. And Lorna made a mental note, also, to maybe have Christopher Summers join Val Cooper in flopping around under the buffet for a while for even making this fucking conversation necessary in the first place, among other things. |
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| Cyclops | Jun 9 2012, 11:46 AM Post #22 |
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The real Slim Shady
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"Scott," Lorna began slowly, both eyebrows climbing toward her hairline, "the X-Men are your family. They always have been. You wouldn't be you if you weren't dedicated to them." He shrugged a little uncomfortably. Yes, they were. And they weren't. Jean was his family. Hank, Bobby, Warren, Alex, Lorna...they were his family. The others were certainly important to him, he'd lay his life on the line for them over and over, but Scott recognized the line that he himself had drawn in the sand there. Perhaps ironically, given his worries, it was Jean who had made the closer connections to the second team. "But why the hell are you worried about something you and Jean've already been though?" Scott felt his eyebrows rise. Already been through? Had he already chosen the team over his fiancee at some point? Actually, depending on how one defined "chosen over her", he supposed he might've. Shaking her head again, [Lorna said], "Look, when Jean needed you, you were there. You took her and went to Alaska and didn't look back, team or no team. I'm guessing you're not going to have any bigger shit than that to deal with." Well, that was definitely a glass half-full way of looking at what had happened there. Of course, Scott had never really been a "half-full" kind of guy. He'd always been the 'that full glass is gonna be half-empty soon, we should figure out how we'll deal with it' kinda guy. "And my guess is you'd still be there if she hadn't been ready to come back. And you'd do it again, if you needed to. So you can freak yourself out for no damn good reason if you want, but at least look at all the evidence, Mr. Logical Strategist, before you make that decision. I don't give a damn what the Professor said, you're not Corsair. Not in the way you mean." Scott sighed a little. Lorna had a point - of course she had a fucking point, because if this were clear cut it would be too damn easy. He'd left for Jean before. Left behind everything he'd known since puberty because it had been essential to Jean's well-being that he do so. And yeah, he'd do it again if he needed too, however much living in Alaska sucked. But... "Corsair would tell you that his team is his family too. Hell, he did tell me that once," during a horribly awkward argument that Scott never wanted to repeat. People thought he and Alex were fucked up and stubborn? They only had half of the fucked up genes that Christopher Summers carried. "But it's..." how to put it into words. Did he really need to? Was it worth it? Maybe. This uncomfortable exercise seemed to be at least keeping him from offing himself via nervous energy, which was an improvement he supposed. Scott studied the patterns on the rug in front of him before making the attempt. "I left because Jean needed me to. And honestly, I wasn't essential to the X-Men. They didn't need me. And I'd do it again, this exact second, if she needed me to." "But what about when the time comes where they both need me, and I need to make that choice?" He closed his eyes and shook his head a little, trying to figure out where he was even going. "I know which one the Professor expects I'll pick. But honestly? I don't know what I expect." |
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| Polaris | Jun 9 2012, 04:01 PM Post #23 |
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Asparagus Lass
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Lorna took the sigh to mean either she was at least getting through a little, or Scott was having some imminent strangling contemplation of his own. It only took her a few milliseconds to decide she'd be putting her money on the second one if she was a gambler. Not the first time, though, damned well wouldn't be the last, possibly not even the last time today. It wouldn't stop her, it never did. Scott needed to hear it, really hear it, instead of it going in one ear and out the other, with no layover in between. Because he was too busy running that loop of 'what can go wrong' through his head until he ended up doing the one thing that would make it all go wrong: shutting everyone, especially Jean, out because he'd convinced himself that he was going to fuck it up in some way no matter what he tried. It was the 'joy' of being Scott, she knew, and it made Lorna want to hug him (and she did not randomly just hug people, ever) and smack him over the head until he cut it the hell out. Of course it wouldn't work, but it didn't make her not want to give it a try. That was Jeannie's territory, though, and Lorna already had the other part of the matching set, with his own, complementary head-smack worthy issues going. Which made it easier, in some odd way, to just talk to Scott, and push aside the impulse for frustration related violence. "Corsair would tell you that his team is his family too. Hell, he did tell me that once," which she could've already guessed, given that their step-mother was an alien cat, but she did get his point. And could only imagine what that conversation had been like. She also wasn't going to bother pointing out that Christopher Summers had every reason to believe Scott and Alex were dead, that he'd latched onto the Starjammers because he didn't think he had anything else, because that wasn't an excuse to her, either. He'd had the means to make sure. He could've saved Alex and Scott both years of hell. He hadn't. Alex had more or less forgiven him, but Lorna wasn't sure she had that same capacity. "But it's..." She waited while he apparently consulted the carpet, because that's all you could really do if you wanted Scott to talk. Let him do it in his own time. He didn't get enough practice to do it fast. "I left because Jean needed me to. And honestly, I wasn't essential to the X-Men. They didn't need me. And I'd do it again, this exact second, if she needed me to." Well, hadn't that been what she was trying to tell him? There was another of those big, unspoken buts in there, though. "I know which one the Professor expects I'll pick. But honestly? I don't know what I expect." Lorna snorted, she couldn't help it, even if it probably wasn't the best reaction. Jesus. "Yeah, well, welcome to the human race." Shaking her head, Lorna's lips quirked up wryly. "I don't think any of us know what we'd do with something like that, Scott. And, y'know what, screw the Professor." The green-haired woman took a moment to hope a pissed off, bald, telepathic mind bolt wasn't presently headed in her direction before continuing. "It really doesn't matter what he thinks, not about this." Reaching up, she pushed her mass of green hair back from her face, letting out a breath. "It'd be a tough call for you, or me, or Jean, or anybody else to have to choose between two things that're really important to them." He couldn't see it, she knew, because he was too close to it, but she'd stake more than she had on the fact that it wouldn't even be a contest. "None of us are essential to the X-Men, or any other team, Scott," she pointed out, because he did forget that sometimes. Needed sometimes, yes, but not essential for them to function or exist. Well, unless some of them were being eaten by a giant fucking island, then they might be getting into essential territory. "And I know you're having a hard time seeing it, but I don't see anything coming up with the X-Men, or anything else, that'd stop you from being there for Jean if she needed you." The only really hard call she could ever see would be if it came between Alex and Jean. And Lorna strongly suspected he'd still choose Jean, even though it'd probably tear him to pieces to do it. "Just the fact that you're sitting here, worrying about it," Lorna added, lifting an eyebrow, "already tells me you're not your father." And thank god for that, because she wasn't overly keen on the idea of a Persian Cat for a sister-in-law. |
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| Cyclops | Jun 9 2012, 08:37 PM Post #24 |
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The real Slim Shady
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Shaking her head, Lorna's lips quirked up wryly. "I don't think any of us know what we'd do with something like that, Scott. And, y'know what, screw the Professor." Well, it might've been comforting right up until the horrifying mental image. Though Scott supposed he'd get over it if the look of trepidation on Lorna's face didn't end up being for nothing. "It really doesn't matter what he thinks, not about this." It didn't, and it did. Scott didn't give a tiny rat's ass about what Charles Xavier thought about his relationship with Jean. Because Scott would love her regardless, and at this point he suspected that if the Professor told Jean to lose her mentally unstable fiance, she'd tell the older telepath to go fuck himself. That said, Professor Xavier had also known Scott since he'd taken him in at fifteen. Unlike the others - Jean excepted - the Professor'd had one-on-one time with Scott. Just Scott. And a fuck ton of it, too; as messed up as Scott might be now, even he had to admit he'd been a horrific kid. So Xavier knew him pretty well, which is why his observations of his first student's character hadn't been dismissed out of hand. "It'd be a tough call for you, or me, or Jean, or anybody else to have to choose between two things that're really important to them." Oh, good. She switched into truisms. Useful. With all this whining and bitching, generally from him, Scott was beginning to forget that he wasn't an obnoxious sixteen year-old anymore. But the adult he'd become suspected that Lorna - his only brother's live-in girlfriend - wouldn't appreciate him thanking her with a bad attitude. "None of us are essential to the X-Men, or any other team, Scott," she pointed out[.] It was nothing Jean hadn't said to him before, but it always still struck Cyclops a bit of a blow. Nothing to outwardly show, nothing to get upset over, but it was kind of like being told your significant other didn't need you the way you needed her. The X-Men was more than his family; the X-Men was the only thing he knew how to do. His whole life, since he'd been a kid, had been devoted to it (his year in Alaska with Jean aside, and even then he'd come straight back). "And I know you're having a hard time seeing it, but I don't see anything coming up with the X-Men, or anything else, that'd stop you from being there for Jean if she needed you." "I hope you're right," Scott answered, because there really wasn't much else to say. Because he did hope she was right. He hoped he could be the kind of husband Jean Grey deserved. But what kind of man would that make him? What kind of person? Putting one woman over the fate of the world. Fuck, even Scott wanted to punch himself in the face. What the fuck was wrong with him? "Just the fact that you're sitting here, worrying about it," Lorna added, lifting an eyebrow, "already tells me you're not your father." He chuffed out a laugh. Hey, she had a point. Mostly because Cyclops wasn't convinced that Corsair often sat down and thought much out ahead of time. "Good. I don't think my face can support that mustache." |
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| Polaris | Jun 9 2012, 09:19 PM Post #25 |
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Asparagus Lass
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Yes, the truth was hard. The truth was often a bitch and it sucked and it was damned good at kicking them all in the teeth. Repeatedly. But that didn't keep it from being the truth, whether Scott liked it or not. Lorna suspected he was firmly entrenched into the 'not' category on this one, and was more or less determined to cling to his insecurities, issues, and over-analyze everything to death until he either figured it out, ruined it, or exploded. Even in the face of logic, which was more than a little damned ironic when you thought about it. She also realized that he probably couldn't really help any of that, any more than Alex could help his own knee-jerk reaction. Or any more than she could help her's in certain situations. And she was just as sure there was some of that he didn't want to hear, because she knew damned well that she'd said a lot of things she'd rather not have felt she had to or needed to. Things she wouldn't have, if it'd been anyone but Scott. Psychology, however, was not her forte. She was a fucking geologist, for god's sake, and she was about as up to her eyeballs in all this as much as she could stand. Scott, she more than suspected, was too. Whether he chose to listen at all, or just resented the hell out of it, that was up to him, but Lorna felt better for having said it at least. None of them talked as much as they should, even she knew that. Knowing it wouldn't likely change a damned thing, but she did know. "I hope you're right," Scott answered and Lorna smiled, because so did she. And this once, she felt pretty sure that she actually was. Scott wasn't Christopher Summers. Just the fact that he even worried about it was proof of that. "Good. I don't think my face can support that mustache." Scott replied with a laugh, and Lorna couldn't help her own snort of amusement that followed. "Neither can his," she countered with a grin, not for the first time wondering what Corsair was thinking when he grew that thing. or maybe he was just trying to match his current wife was much as possible. "You don't suppose he'd consider dropping the Cat Lady off on Mars or somewhere before he shows up, do you?" Because medicating Alex against that much hair was going to be a bitch, and even then there was an even chance the best man would still be sneezing and sniffling and breaking out in hives during the ceremony. That'd look just lovely in the wedding pictures. |
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| Cyclops | Jun 9 2012, 09:49 PM Post #26 |
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The real Slim Shady
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Lorna was smiling at him, and Scott figured that meant either that he'd said something right or that she thought he was tragically, hopelessly stupid. Really, it could've been either one. But he kind of suspected the latter, if pushed to choose. But she was right. Scott wasn't his father. Both because he was pretty sure Christopher Summers had never really sat down and attempting to think about (and fuck himself out of) his personal life and, more importantly, because Scott knew he could never pull of his father's mustache. He didn't think his face would support it. And he really, really needed to wrestle the remote away from Jean. He was starting to sound like those obnoxious assholes on TLC. "Neither can his," [Lorna] countered with a grin[.] She could laugh all she wanted, but Scott was pretty sure that if they'd actually grown up with their parents, Alex would be wearing the same pedophile-worthy face nest. Even as kids, his younger brother had had more in common with their gregarious and impulsive father. Scott, on the other hand, had been the more serious and quiet even before their lives had become a Lifetime special. No, really. He had to stop letting Jean control the TV. Maybe the mustache was part of Corsair's secret seventies porn empire. That would explain the weird-ass look and his unhealthy obsession erotic love for animals. "You don't suppose he'd consider dropping the Cat Lady off on Mars or somewhere before he shows up, do you?" Lorna asked. "I don't know," Scott replied, shrugging slightly. "I offered to find her a crate, but he told me that I was an asshole and that I couldn't disrespect his wife. I half-expected him not to come, but I think he thought he'd be rewarding my poor behavior." Scott wasn't sure what it said about his life that he wasn't even kidding. He'd given Lorna the polite version, too. Corsair's actual reaction had been far less G-rated. He wished he could say he was sorry, but he really couldn't. His relationship with his father was rocky at the best of times, and his interactions with his "step-mother" a strained exercise in what Xavier had taught him about being polite. "Isn't Alex allergic to her?" He wondered aloud. He wasn't positive, but Cyclops was pretty sure he remembered something in his brother's file about a cat allergy. But maybe that only applied to terrestrial cats. "Because if he gets snot on anything important, Jean might kill him. Family or not." Either 'him', actually. Alex for spewing mucus on stuff and Corsair for making him. |
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| Polaris | Jun 10 2012, 11:01 AM Post #27 |
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Asparagus Lass
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Though she knew Alex was kind of looking forward to seeing his father, Lorna suspected they all could do without him bringing the Step-Cat Lady to the wedding. Especially considering what the mere presence of that much feline hair within a 40 yard radius was going to do to Alex. And not that she even had that much against Hephzibah herself, really, but having her along would do absolutely nothing to diffuse the potentially explosive situation that would be Corsair mixed with an already on edge Scott and Alex, not to mention the explosive sneezing that would accompany it. There were plenty of planets out there, would it be so much to ask that they just drop her off on one, just for the wedding? "I don't know," Scott replied, shrugging slightly. "I offered to find her a crate, but he told me that I was an asshole and that I couldn't disrespect his wife. I half-expected him not to come, but I think he thought he'd be rewarding my poor behavior." Lorna snorted again. Now there was a conversation she'd have actually liked to have listened in on. Because she was seriously doubting that was all Christopher Summers had had to say about that particular request. And even she would admit it'd be a little over the top to kennel their step-mother for the ceremony. Hilarious as hell, but still over the top. "Isn't Alex allergic to her?" He wondered aloud. He wasn't positive, but Cyclops was pretty sure he remembered something in his brother's file about a cat allergy. But maybe that only applied to terrestrial cats. "Because if he gets snot on anything important, Jean might kill him. Family or not." Right, there was a lovely mental picture. Another great memory for the photo album. "He'll be too busy sweating nervously in his tux to have anything left over for other bodily fluids," Lorna pointed out with a smirk, leaning back against the sofa and relaxing at last. "But don't worry, by then he'll be heavily medicated enough to deal with the sneezing and any possible dripping. Standing up and not falling over, or not bouncing off the decorations, I make no promises about." Though she could always prop him up, or keep him contained in a small area, with a forcefield, she supposed, if it came to that. God, the shit they had to do to have any kind of normal event around here. |
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| Cyclops | Jun 10 2012, 12:22 PM Post #28 |
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The real Slim Shady
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Now that he thought about it again, Scott decided he'd count himself lucky if he, Corsair, and Alex managed to make it through this event without killing one another. Hell, at the rate things were going, there was probably a higher than average chance that Jean and Lorna would end up involved to. He made a mental note to avoid his father as much as possible. Jean would be pissed if he and Christopher Summers fucked up the wedding, and Alex would whine about Scott picking a fight with their dad. And, given Alex's recent outburst, Scott wasn't really in the mood for his whining. Though he guessed that if he actually wanted to avoid conflict with his father, he should probably stop offering to pick up a crate for Corsair's wife. But hell, it wasn't Scott's fault that his dad had decided to marry a Space Cat. Though he supposed that, at this rate, he and Hephzibah probably shouldn't be allowed within a few hundred feet of each other; he was too on edge, and he suspected that she was (maybe rightfully, his brain pointed out) pissed at him for the mere suggestion. He knew his father hadn't been overly impressed. But Scott figured he wouldn't be the only one avoiding their father and his wife. Wasn't Alex allergic to extraterrestrial cat woman? Fuck, his brother was going to get snot over everything Jean had worked to put together. "He'll be too busy sweating nervously in his tux to have anything left over for other bodily fluids," Lorna pointed out with a smirk, leaning back against the sofa and relaxing at last. "But don't worry, by then he'll be heavily medicated enough to deal with the sneezing and any possible dripping. Standing up and not falling over, or not bouncing off the decorations, I make no promises about." "Oh good," Scott responded dryly. "You're going to get him stoned and then put him in a high-stress situation with me and Corsair." Sometimes Scott really hated that he was loyal enough to his father to still invite him to shit. "Besides, what reason does he have to sweat nervously? I'm the one getting married, he just has to stand there and try not to piss me or Jean or you off." Which, admittedly, might be nerve-wracking for Alex. |
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| Polaris | Jun 10 2012, 06:12 PM Post #29 |
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Asparagus Lass
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Unsurprisingly, the medication plans to combat Alex's allergies wasn't impressing Scott much, either. Lorna couldn't really blame him, but their options were sort of limited, given the situation. "Oh good," Scott responded dryly. "You're going to get him stoned and then put him in a high-stress situation with me and Corsair." Oh, sure, leave it to the Fearless Leader to look at the bad side, as opposed to the more bad side, where Alex was sneezing his sinus cavities out all over the flower arrangements and the minister. "Well, when you put it that way..." Lorna smirked over at him, because he couldn't have it both ways. It was either non-stoned, sneezing, dripping Alex, or dry, possibly stoned out of his gourd Alex. Sometimes life just required some damned compromises. Especially when your family tree included cat people for god's sake. "Besides, what reason does he have to sweat nervously? I'm the one getting married, he just has to stand there and try not to piss me or Jean or you off." The green haired woman's eyebrows made for her hairline and she just looked at him. Did he even know Alex? "You're putting him in a tux and making him give a speech, Scott," she pointed out, not really understanding why this even needed pointing out. "You're lucky he hasn't already dissolved into some kind of gooey, blonde haired puddle or grumbled himself to death." Or randomly plasma-blasted the hell out of everything and everyone that so much as looked at him the wrong way. So it might be just as well he'd mostly been avoiding everyone and everything even remotely wedding related like the plague. "You know," Lorna added consideringly, "with all this bullshit, it's not really a mystery why we're all running around on our last nerve." Then she gave Scott a considering look, grinning and lifting one brow slightly. "What say we say flip it all the bird for half an hour or so, Summers?" She was pretty sure Jean would forgive her for running off temporarily, and god knew she didn't want to leave Scott here to start vibrating in place again. Nor was she quite ready to deal with more ribbons and cards and assorted wedding stuff "Race you down to the basement, and I'll let you beat me in a game of pool?" And he would, too. He always did, him and his damned strategic brain. But this once, that would be ok. |
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| Cyclops | Jun 10 2012, 06:53 PM Post #30 |
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The real Slim Shady
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"You're putting him in a tux and making him give a speech, Scott," she pointed out, not really understanding why this even needed pointing out. His brother, a grown man if his birth certificate was to be believed, was pissing himself over an overly expensive suit and a few minutes of talking? Scott couldn't help but smirk. Totally leaving aside that he'd probably be worried as hell if he were ever asked to speak at Alex's wedding. "You're lucky he hasn't already dissolved into some kind of gooey, blonde haired puddle or grumbled himself to death." Had she not seen Alex just completely overreact and storm out of the room? Scott's eyebrows relocated to somewhere near his hairline. "You don't consider the mental breakdown he just had in front of us on art with either of those options?" "You know," Lorna added consideringly, "with all this bullshit, it's not really a mystery why we're all running around on our last nerve." He watched as his semi-sister-in-law eyed him carefully, and what she was considering Scott wasn't entirely sure. Which was kind of concerning, actually, given that she appeared to blaming their 'on our last nerve' location on him. She could be contemplating anything ranging from beating the crap out of him with metal objects (since, if forced to admit it, he knew he'd be hard-pressed to attack Alex's girlfriend) to spontaneously dragging him out into Salem Center. "What say we say flip it all the bird for half an hour or so, Summers?" Lorna asked, grinning. He assumed she meant figuratively, because lovey dovey fiances or not, if he flipped Jean's wedding planning the bird right now, Scott was relatively sure he'd be dead fairly quickly. Still, though...getting the fuck out of his own head sounded like a good idea. "What're you suggesting?" "Race you down to the basement, and I'll let you beat me in a game of pool?" She offered. She wanted to play pool with him? No one ever wanted to play pool with him, except Jean when they'd been teenagers and, in hindsight, he suspected ulterior motives. Bad enough that among his close friends Scott was rather infamous for cheating when he began to lose, but he almost never lost at pool. It was a game he was custom built before, between his strategic mind and mutation-related innate understanding of geometry. Scott smirked. "Your idea of relaxation is to let me kick your ass? You sure, Dane? Because we can play something you at least have a chance at, if you'd like. Candyland or something." |
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3:37 AM Jul 11