Scott and Bobby, backdated to Friday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

After finally making his post about Terry, Scott goes up to check in on a brooding Bobby. He manages to get him out of the room, at the very least. Even if the first step is kicking the door in.


He perhaps should have done this the other way around, especially after Sean's reply to Bobby earlier, but the computer had been closer than Bobby. Scott smiled a bit faintly as he stopped in front of the door to Bobby and Angelo's suite. Nice excuse, Summers... Ah, well. He raised a hand and knocked.

"Bobby."

Bobby was curled up on the couch in the common area of the suite. He didn't react when he heard the knock, or the voice calling out to him. He didn't want to talk to Scott. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He just wanted Terry back at Xavier's, safe.

"Bobby, I happen to know you're in there, because your roommate ratted you out. Open the door." Was he actually going to have to force his not-so-consoling self on Bobby? Lovely.

"Go 'way!" answered Bobby, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his forehead against them. Whatever it was Scott wanted, it could wait till later, unless it was team-related, and then they could damn well page him, all official-like.

Oh my God... what is he, five? And the door was locked. Scott made a mental note to apologize to Cain and make sure he fixed this himself, and then kicked the door open. "I have no intention of going 'way'," Scott said, calmly enough, as he stepped through.

Bobby looked up in surprise. "What the fuck!?" he said, getting to his feet with an incredulous frown. "...Did you just kick my door in?"

Scott paused, thinking about it for a moment, and then surprised himself with an odd, crooked little grin. "Yeah, I suppose I did. Actually, that was rather satisfying."

Bobby sighed, shoving his irritation at being invaded like this away. "What do you want?" he snapped. Okay, not completely shoved away, apparently.

"What do you think? And watch your tone, Drake," Scott said, sitting down in one of the chairs without being invited. "You're not responsible for Terry running off with her uncle, you realize."

Bobby gave him an incredulous look. "You saw what Sean said, right?" he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and starting to pace. Why Scott, of all people? Couldn't someone else come to talk to him about this? Someone who didn't hate him, maybe?

"Sean was angry and worried, and you were a handy target. I imagine he will have those words with you once Terry's back where she belongs and his cousin's back in prison where he belongs, but to be perfectly honest, you were probably due those words a while ago, over the whole pregnancy scare. He is her father."

"If I hadn't--" Bobby broke off and shook his head. SO not going there, not with Scott. "He's right, Scott. I'm the reason she's over there, and now..." He made a strangled, distressed noise and paced faster, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Did you spend too much time around me at an impressionable age?" Scott asked, watching him pace. "Is this why the whole-hearted descent into guilt whenever you get the opportunity?"

Bobby stopped and looked at him, feeling a strange bit of pride despite everything, at being compared to Scott by Scott himself. Even if it wasn't in the most positive of ways. "I--yeah, maybe," he said with a faint grin, crossing to the couch and perching on the back of it.

"Well, knock it off. If that's it, it's just habit, and imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery." Scott rubbed at his jaw, sighing. "She's not in danger, you know. Tom wouldn't hurt her."

"Not intentionally," Bobby muttered darkly. He'd known Terry long enough to have heard all about her uncle. "I just--I want to go over there right now, and look for her. But I know there's no point."

"You're right, there's not. If Sean needs any help, he'll call us, and I suspect that he'd probably call Charles first. There are certain appropriate uses for the big round room downstairs, after all." Irony. There were all kinds of irony here. "I won't say don't worry," Scott said more quietly, "but for fuck's sake, don't immure yourself in your room fretting. It's not healthy."

Bobby started pacing again without realizing he'd even stood up. "I need to do...something," he muttered.

Scott shrugged. "Well, you can't."

With a groan of frustration, Bobby turned back to him. "I'm not supposed to sit and fret, but there's nothing I can actually do...any suggestions then, o fearless leader?" he asked with a smirk. He was being a smartass and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to help it.

"Yeah," Scott said, his voice clipped. "You do your training. You do your job, before Nate fires you. You keep looking into college options for the fall, and you wait."

College? Scott expected him to think about college right now? "I've been training," he replied sulkily. Training and then some. But the advice about the job was probably sound enough.

"That's nice. Your Danger Room sessions have been awful. Trust me, I've been reviewing them." Scott rose and went over to the curtains, twitching them open to let a little sunlight into the room. It looked to be a beautiful day outside. He hadn't stuck his nose outside as of yet. "You have to stop doing this," he said after a moment, staring out at the grounds. "This... hiding, anytime anything happens."

Bobby arched an eyebrow and snorted. "Hypocrite much?"

"While I'm glad you've dropped the despondent kicked-puppy act," Scott said, not looking away from the window, "prudence might suggest not comparing how I reacted when one of my friends slept with my wife to the fact that you seem to be making a habit of emulating my turtle anytime you're under stress."

That wasn't all Bobby was referring to, but he let it drop with a fresh stab of guilt. "...Fine," he said sullenly. "I'll get out of my room. I'll do it right now, even." He headed for the door.

Scott, with an eloquent twitch of his eyebrows, turned to do the same - and stopped, doubling over just a little and unable to keep the wince off his face at the pain in his stomach. The hell? Maybe he actually needed to lay off the coffee.

"I've got a new tactical review you can test-drive, if you're looking for something to do." The words came out tight with pain he hoped Bobby would interpret as something else.

Fortunately--or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Bobby did indeed interpret it as something else. He sighed and turned back to Scott. "...Yeah, that'd be good," he said, giving Scott an apologetic look. He didn't mean to be a jerk, he was just worried.

Scott mustered up a slight smile. "I do know a thousand and one ways to distract yourself effectively and productively," he said more firmly, straightening up. "Past master at the art and all..."

"Any help would be appreciated," Bobby said with an answering smile. "I'm driving myself nuts thinking about her..."

"Yeah," Scott murmured, the smile turning a little odd and sad as he gestured for Bobby to precede him out of the room. I know the feeling.