earth_367 | scott walks into people's offices

It's past 2 AM when Scott finally comes through the door, which is shamefully late for someone who made tentative promises to say goodnight to a girl. He doesn't expect anyone to still be awake, but walks by the teachers' offices just in case. There's light coming from under Miss Pryde's door, and the sound of typing. He'd be more alarmed if Kitty didn't regularly work late into the night.

Scott doesn't bother to knock before poking his head in. "Hey. What are you doing?"

She's not often on the other side of someone coming in a door without warning. Kitty blinks, as if she's not sure how to comprehend this development. She wasn't expecting anyone at this hour. "Oh, hey. I'm just trying to access..."

But since the words that come after that are Maddie's bank records, so I can track where she last made purchases and then maybe I'll go acquire the security footage from those stores to verify her identity, Kitty shakes her head. "Stuff. Are you just getting back now?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "I meant to return earlier, but I—" Was almost side-swiped by a car and ended up driving into a ditch. On second thought, he knows better than to tell anyone that. "—got caught in traffic."

After-midnight traffic. To distract from his terrible lie, Scott shoulders off his backpack (as dusty as the rest of him, after two days of riding) and pulls out a plastic-wrapped art print. He places it on Kitty's desk.

"It turns out none of the haunted puppets are on sale at the puppet museum. But they did have anarchist art. Hopefully not a disappointment."

Edited (important) Date: 2025-03-03 07:37 am (UTC)

Kitty had in fact been about to ask where there could possibly have been traffic at this time of night, when he wasn't even going through the city, but the gift disarms her. She unwraps the print immediately, and the puppet-cat makes her smile. It's very her. Cat themed, not too anarchist to display on her office walls.

"No way, I love it. I'm assuming it's puppet-haunted by proximity." She grins up at him from where she's sitting crisscross in her office chair. She'd made no attempt to hide her screens from him; if he was to look over at the monitors, it's pretty clear what she's working on, but she doesn't offer an update immediately. "Thanks for transporting ghost objects." She says instead.

"It better be a little haunted, after what I went through to get back," Scott says dryly. He catches Madelyne's name on the screen, and freezes for a second. Usually, he wouldn't hesitate to get down to business, but there's someone else he should see tonight. He glances back at the door.

Five minutes. "What did you find?" He leans down to look at Kitty's computer.

"Yeah, are you ok, after that drive? Did you even eat?"

It's a question to stall for time more than anything while her brain, craving sleep, tries to think of a way to say this that doesn't make her sound like a massive conspiracy theorist. None of what she'd uncovered is good news. She sits back in her chair and pulls up the corresponding evidence so he can see, anyway.

"Weird shit, Scoot." She admits, pointing at a personnel file that she is deeply not supposed to have. "Look, this is her job file at North Star Airways. She just stopped showing up. Exactly at the same time as her social media and phone disappeared. There weren't any corresponding crimes or villain activity either around here or anywhere she landed her planes. Foul play unlikely. She's just...not around." She wrinkles her nose at him, apologetic. "I'm still looking."

Scott doesn't answer questions about his trip. He's still reading the screen, and thinking back on everything he knows about Madelyne. Not much, when it comes down to it. Is it like her to quit her job out of nowhere? He doesn't know. They'd been together for a year and change, and she'd shared pilot stories in exchange for details of his X-Men exploits. She was fearless and outspoken and surprisingly introverted. She didn't speak much about her childhood. Neither had Scott.

He'd once caught himself thinking Maddie just stepped out of a dream. It would be egotistically male to think her disappearance has anything to do with him, but Scott can't stop the horrible guilt settling in his stomach. "Right," he says, quieter than his usual monotone. "Thank you."

He has to say more than that about the woman he loved. But all Scott can think of is "Are you going to bed soon?"

Kitty rests her chin on her knees, and shifts her attention from her computer screen to her friend. It sometimes takes all her faculties to assess what Scott is feeling. She clocks the volume drop, the way he strays from the subject immediately and feels her own immediate guilt. She’d made the mistake of going right to mission mode with this. Maddie isn’t just a random disappearance. Her voice shifts too, she regulates it a little gentler.

“I’m going to find something. I promise. People don’t just vanish.”

She minimizes some of the windows, so they’re not just up and staring. “Yeah, pretty soon.” She lies, which is stupid since they’re still next door neighbors. “Are you going to bed? There’s pizza leftovers.” She stubbornly presses the dinner thing, just in case.

"I ate," Scott says mildly. Not technically a lie, although he knows Kitty wouldn't think a single gas station beef jerky constitutes a full meal. His head's been elsewhere, and he honestly didn't felt hungry until Kitty reminded him of how he skipped dinner. (Later. He'll deal with that later.)

Scott squares his shoulders, and finds his authoritative leader voice. "You did good work. Keep on it, and let me know if you find anything new." A pause. He needs to stop enabling Kitty's workaholic tendencies. "Tomorrow. You should sleep." He glances back at the exit again. "I have to... see Emma."

Kitty's a little too tired to be impressed by the leader voice, tonight. She gives him a bare little smile, nodding. She does respect his need to be in control of this situation, and whatever emotions are coming up around it. At least enough not to question that part. There's another part that just begs one.

"Why do you have to see Emma now?"

Scott's mouth flattens. "I think we might be dating?" The uncertain rise at the end obliterates his attempt at stoic detachment. He seems nervous, even. It's never easy to tell with Scott, but his face is still turned away, avoiding eye contact with Kitty.

They might all be family, but there's few people in this world he'd call his best friend. Who's also best friends with Jean, and close with Emma, and not one to hold back if she thinks he's being an idiot. This could still be a disaster in the making. If Kitty said so, he'd have a hard time disagreeing.

Kitty first just blinks. All the terrible ways this could possibly go do in fact rush through her head at once. What will Jean think? Does it go like this in any other universe? When Emma and Scoot break up, whose side does she have to be on? How could she possibly choose that? Also, shit. Her first thought probably shouldn't have been about a breakup.

"You think." She says, voice flat and betraying very little while she untangles this new development in her brain. It doesn't take long. She was always a very quick study. Ultimately, she has to be supportive. She can tell him how he's messing up along the way. Starting now, actually. She smiles, trying to catch his eye. "I mean, to me that sounds like something you should probably have a solid answer on."

Edited (why was there so much bottom room) Date: 2025-03-05 03:41 am (UTC)

Scott sighs. "Yeah."

Part of him wants to take a seat and lay out every thing said and done in chronological order, for Kitty's objective perspective on things, while another part of him is fairly certain doing that would just underline how idiotic he's been. It's wonder that any woman wants anything to do with him.

(Does Emma even want him still? How long can this even last before he fucks it up? What will Jean think of this? Where is Madelyne?)

He takes a deep breath, tamping down on the chaos in his brain. "I might be a little out of my depth," he admits. "Emma is so... you know."

"Oh, you're absolutely out of your depth." Kitty confirms, with a grin that is not unkind. Emma is a lot of things, but she doesn't actually think she'll break Scott's heart on purpose, or she'd be responding quite differently right now. When she cares about someone, she does, all the way. Maybe he needs that.

"But maybe that's for the best, right? Can't overthink too much when you're just trying to swim. She'll understand."

Kitty's familiar grin eases something in his chest, and there's a flicker like a smile on Scott's face as he looks away again. "You might be right."

Scott thinks of himself as a practical person, but Kitty has a way of cutting right to the heart of things when he's off twisting himself into mental knots. Stop overthinking, Summers. Emma will understand. All of this is just noise.

"Keep this between us, please?" He realizes this could sound like he's asking for something else, and nods at Kitty's screen, even though she's minimized the windows. "Madelyne. At least until we've found something more concrete."

"I know I'm right." Kitty says, as though perhaps being more of a brat means more reassurance. Maybe then he'd keep smiling all the way to Emma's, and she'll feel like she did a good deed.

But that's maybe impossible, with the other things on their plate. Her forehead furrows halfway through his request, all set to lecture him about the perils of not telling anyone about a new relationship, especially a friend you just gave a mixed-signals birthday necklace, for instance. But that's not what he's asking.

"I won't tell," becomes much more important to say right now. "It's my midnight project right now for a reason." But damn. Now he knows about her habit of keeping secret midnight projects.

Scott tests the door of Emma's office—unlocked. There is no way that Emma Frost would've waited up past 2 AM for him, and as he slips inside to check, he discovers he's half-right. She's asleep on the loveseat, looking so implausibly beautiful that he almost loses his nerve again. Government-funded killer robots would be easier to face.

She'd laugh at him for thinking that. Or sigh in exasperation. Scott walks softly across the room and crouches next to her, with only the quietest creak from his leather jacket. "Emma." He lays his hand on her shoulder.

Emma is accustomed enough to the mansion again that Scott opening the door and stepping into her office isn't enough to even make her stir. In fact, she continues to sleep rather fitfully until he touches her shoulder, which elicits a sigh and a slow opening of her eyes. Her mind, too, is slow to wind its way into his, only skirting along its surface without much recognition of his thoughts initially.

"Scott? What time is it?" Even as she says this she is pulling that at least from his thoughts. Past 2am. She groans, equal parts embarrassed, annoyed, and touched that this idiot had still come to find her even though it's well beyond any sort of reasonable hour.

"It's very late."

"2:22 AM," Scott says, because it's important to be precise. He lets her see the path of logic that led him here: arriving home too late, checking their offices just in case, noticing Kitty awake, trying Emma's door without any expectation that she'd still be there. A flicker of brightness in his thoughts—he's uncommonly happy to see her, even knowing that she might be displeased with him.

His mind retreats again, holding other details close to his chest. As he'd warned her, he looks like a bit mess: his hair disheveled by his helmet, two days' worth of stubble on his face, and just-dried mud all over his jeans. (He'd swapped his boots for indoor shoes, and it's really the only part of him that's clean.)

"Sorry." He watches Emma wake up, her face regaining that clever sharpness. "I meant to get here earlier."

Another soft sigh as Emma follows his mental trail to her office, noting that she should yell at Kitty - but in the morning. She's tired, and maybe a little distracted by Scott's happiness. This is part of the reason she wanted to see him when he arrived, to get a read on his feelings fresh off his absence when she thinks they'll be the clearest. This is reassuring, even if she wishes it weren't happening at 2:22am with her crammed onto a loveseat that she's too tall to be sleeping on.

She reaches out to smooth his hair after a moment, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips that she's trying very hard to suppress.

"I'll consider forgiving you. Did something happen?" Scott still putting mental walls up between them isn't her favorite, but she'll continue to respect them.

His eyes close at the touch of her fingers. Scott doesn't make himself easy with others, and little shows of physical affection still feel rare to him.

"I..." The calculation happens in the space of a second. It's his first impulse to lie to her like he lied to Kitty, but there's already so much he's withholding from Emma. She would understand, probably. She knows how he is. But their last conversation has been replaying in his head for hours, and it pains him that Emma must know how much he's hiding. He was more open with her before all this.

Scott's eyes open again. "I almost got hit by a car," he admits. "It was dark. They took a turn too fast. I got out of the way, but my bike flew off the road. I'm fine." Scott's definition of fine is skewed compared to other people's, but it's true he's hurt no worse than he usually is on a mission. A sprained wrist, some bruises. It could've been worse if he wasn't a mutant, but he is, so it's fine. "Don't tell Kurt?"

There's a gentle rake of her nails against his scalp as she continues to fix his hair past the point that is necessary, Emma herself finding the action soothing. Meditative. Quiet moments with Scott always feel like they even something out in her.

She's shaken out of this sleepy lull by his words - for a moment she almost thinks he's joking, but of course he isn't. Sitting up, she's now clearly fully awake and trying to assess him, looking him over, mind searching for any points of pain or injury that he's downplaying. But he does seem to be alright. The comment about Kurt becomes almost funny once some of the sudden shock wears off. She'll appreciate it later, along with his honesty.

Emma lets out a small, short breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I won't tell him, but you should have called. Come on, let's get some ice on your wrist."

Scott sits back when she sits up. He holds himself still for her inspection—a little too still, clearly trying to prove that he's as fine as he says he is. They all worry about each other, and they all resist that worry to differing degrees. Scott doesn't think he's any worse than the others, and anyway, he's well-practiced at working through pain since before he became an X-Man.

"I'll handle it." But he holds a hand out to Emma as he gets to his feet. (His left hand, the unhurt one.) Seeking a little contact with her one last time, because he knows he shouldn't keep her from sleep any more than he already has.

Emma is already reaching for Scott when he offers his hand, securely holding to him as she gets to her feet as well. There's still a bit of nervous energy around all of this, but there's also a very strange sense of comfortable normalcy too. Even though she's still a little shut out, a fact that's more obvious now that she's properly awake. She doesn't press anything though - they're both tired, and even though she does trust that he's fine and knows that injuries are a standard part of their lives, it's difficult not to feel bad for him.

"You can't rob me of the chance to take care of you," she complains without any bite, and while Emma does want to make sure he gets some ice on his wrist, she finds herself hesitant to pull him towards the door just yet. "You need to tell me about your trip, anyway. If it helped you refocus."

Edited Date: 2025-03-05 12:02 am (UTC)

"It did." Scott's mind is a placid lake—concealing dark things beneath the surface, maybe, but markedly calmer than it was when he left on Friday. The barest trace of tension suggests there's something he's ignoring so he can enjoy this moment with her, but his mind's made up. If Emma still wants him, then he's hers.

Which isn't to say he won't question himself later, as he does with literally every decision he makes. But right now, the feel of Emma's hand in his is what he's focusing on. "Very uneventful, although some guy did try to pick a fight with me in a bar. Who knew Canadians could be so belligerent?" He brushes his thumb over her skin. "I'm glad to be home."

There's a long moment where Emma just watches Scott, as if being still and quiet will either let her decipher the small bits of information he's providing or will cause him to open up just a bit more to her. The stillness just makes her more tired, and she decides that all the things that really matter right now (he's here, he's safe, he wants this) are apparent. She should stop trying to sort anything else out tonight.

There's an immediate distraction in the mention of someone trying to pick a fight with him, luckily, and it draws up a quiet, surprised laugh. "Scott Summers. We really can't let you go anywhere, can we?" She's glad he's home too, and while she doesn't say this she presses it into his mind as leans in for a light kiss.

"Now, let's actually get you some ice. I want to play nurse but I also want to go to sleep."

"I did tell him he'd regret it." Emma's presence in his mind is a welcome balm, as is her soft kiss. He doesn't know what he did to earn this affection, and for once, he's too exhausted to dig up all of the reasons why he's going to screw this up. I'm sorry, he thinks at her. Thank you.

Scott pulls Emma out the door, still holding her hand. PDA isn't something he indulges in—less out of aversion than simply intense awkwardness—but no one's in the halls at this hour. "Let's get you to bed as soon as possible."

Scott is running on three hours of sleep and lots of coffee, which is far from optimal levels but within permissible standards. Normally he'd use his lunch hour for a power nap so he can get through this afternoon's classes, but he's long overdue for reporting to his team leader.

(Is he worried? Scott has pushed worry so far down the list of emotions he's experiencing today that he's barely brooded on what Kurt thinks of their last text exchange. One of the benefits of sleep deprivation.)

Two quick, solid knocks sound at Kurt's door. "It's Scott," he says, as though Kurt somehow wouldn't recognize his voice or his usual knock.

Kurt is scrolling through the list of students who tried out for Into The Woods. Casting is a careful balance. Talent, powers, singing ability, reliability, interpersonal drama. Who is dating whom and will it cause tension if he doesn't cast them as a couple? Who is trying too hard, and even if deserving will they rub it in the face of other students? This should be a distraction, but the matter is unpleasantly relevant.

He knows that knock. It's — "Scott!"

The iPad falls onto the desk as Kurt teleports from his seat to the door, flinging it open. Despite all of his anxieties and frustrations and disappointments, at least Scott is home.

"You look terrible," he chides with a smile.

Edited Date: 2025-03-04 03:49 am (UTC)

Scott stands stock-still in the doorway for a moment. He's wearing the expression that makes people think he's cold and emotionless, when really he's just trying incredibly hard to look normal. He showered, shaved, and dressed in an incredibly subdued turtleneck and blazer. His sunglasses hide the shadows under his eyes. He wrapped his sprained wrist, and holds it stiffly at his side.

But Kurt knows him—has known him, ever since he was a teenager. It's not surprising that he can tell Scott isn't at his best. "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have taken so much time away."

Kurt waves that off, walking over to pull Scott into his office. It's disorganized because it always is, but there are signs of additional chaos.

A collection of empty glasses he keeps forgetting to bring back to the kitchen even though he could just teleport. A file that fell off his desk that he keeps telling himself he needs to pick up, but just hasn't done so yet. Email inbox full of unread messages. An open browser to a food delivery service that he keeps considering but hasn't ordered from.

"No, no, it's good you did. Really." And he means it, even if it worried him. In fairness, Scott being gone worried him less than why. Am I screwed up? replays in his head. "Just tell me before you go next time, ja?"

Scott takes in the state of Kurt's office at a glance. One small part of his mind is putting together a to-do list of what he can tidy up before classes resume, while guilt settles in him at the realization of how worried Kurt must have been.

"I will," he says, a little meekly. There won't be a next time, he hopes. It wasn't like him to take off without warning, but he still believes he went for the better option. Kurt would've been even more worried if he'd seen in person how badly Scott was reeling.

He closes the door behind them and lets Kurt drag him inside. "Look, I..." Scott pauses. He really should've planned for this conversation better. "I know I haven't handled things in the best way. But it's not my aim to cause any team discord, or get distracted from our mission. My priority remains this school and the X-Men. That won't ever change."

Kurt takes Scott's hands in his own, and squeezes them just a little too tightly. He closes his eyes and exhales as he searches for the words.

"Scott," he says, "mein Bruder. I have never once worried about any of that. I know you like I know my own heart. Your dedication is never in question. But... your happiness?" He finally looks up at Scott again. Neither of their pupils are visible, but Kurt hopes they lock eyes. Just like the first time they met. "Why would you think you're screwed up? You can kiss Emma, or anyone else. It's a disaster, ja, but so are our lives. Why would you think so badly about yourself?"

It's hard to look directly at Kurt. Not because of his appearance, but because his love for Scott is written all over his face, somehow painfully emotive even with the pupilless eyes. Scott's never felt like he deserved it. He doesn't know how to answer Kurt's question.

He bows his head instead, looking at Kurt's soft hands on his, the fur so dark when filtered Scott's ruby quartz glasses that they're closer to black than blue. He recalls the exact shade they should be, as seen in portrait after portrait in the hall. In every picture, the bright blue heart of their family. His family.

"It's fine now, Kurt," Scott says. "I have everything under control." His voice sounds remarkably calm even to his own ears. "Were things okay while I was gone?"

"Ja, ja, it's been fine," Kurt says, genuinely true. A little disaster is so typical for them, even if they all conspired to hide it from Scott. It's them looking out for him the way he always insists on looking out for them. When Kurt's distracted or irresponsible, he leans on Scott. Probably too much. Poor form for a leader, and worse as an older brother.

"You don't need to always have things under control," he says, squeezing Scott's hands even tighter. "I put too much on you."

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
				1	2	3
4	5	6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15	16	17
18	19	20	21	22	23	24
25	26	27	28	29	30	31

An X-Men GPSL (IC)

scott walks into people's offices

Custom Text

Page Summary

Expand Cut Tags