xp_logs | Scott and Ororo, later Sunday night

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After a nap, Scott writes up his report. Ororo shows up at the office and they grumble a little at each other.

Then they go down to Harry's and get spectacularly drunk.

It wasn't that Ororo wasn't well-practiced in the art of deciphering slightly annoyed, tersely worded reports - in fact, she was guilty of writing a few in her time. But reports never gave the total story, and after reading Scott's, and his posts to the journals, she definitely needed to get the full recounting. As well as give her co-headmaster a chance to rant, which it sounded like he needed.

"Scott?" she asked, knocking at his partially-open door and sticking her head into the room. "Are you free?"

"Free," was the dour reply. "That's one way to put it." Scott was sitting at his desk, his chin resting on a hand and a disgusted look on his face. He wasn't working, but didn't seem inclined to get up and leave the office, either. A brief nap had restored some of his energy - it wasn't as if he'd slept the previous night, after all - but it hadn't done much to improve his mood.

"I read your post in the journals, as well as your report. They were quite... descriptive." Stepping in, she closed the door behind her -she had a feeling that some things might be said that didn't need the students overhearing them.

"Do you know," Scott said, rubbing at his side - Amelia had scanned his ribs and claimed they were intact, but that didn't make them hurt any less, "I sometimes quite honestly wonder why we bother. When the kids are this dumb. Repeatedly."

"Some would say that is the perogative of the young," Ororo said lightly, slipping into a chair in front of his desk. "And they exercise it so liberally, it is apparent they believe that as well."

"He's like Logan Junior. How did we luck out?" Scott asked sourly, then filled Ororo in on slightly more details than he'd given in his report. "... so he'll be fine, physically. Hurray for healing factors. Charles and Leonard get to tackle the bone-deep moronic streak that had him get himself into this in the first time, and we... we, lucky co-headpeople, get to discipline him."

'Ro sat back with a grimace, shaking her head. "As if it would do any good. If his head is as thick as Logan's, it would take four more of these incidents for him to even consider there might be a problem."

"I'm so sick of being the bad guy," Scott said with a certain amount of bitterness. "Seriously. We should get together and tell Charles we're taking a hiatus from being the bad cop. No more Captain Fuckwad and... why did you never get a nasty name, anyway?" He grumbled under his breath, slumping back into his chair. "That hardly seem fair."

"Perhaps I never received a nickname, but I have found more than my share of unflattering drawings on crumpled notebook paper," 'Ro replied, rolling her eyes. "I have even started a collection; I will have to show you one day."

That got a bark of laughter. "I'd like to see that. Might be entertaining." Scott closed his eyes, letting the air in his lungs out on a sigh. "I am so," he said, very clearly and precisely, "aggravated."

"Perhaps we ought to enforce a curfew... everyone in bed at nine p.m. Everyone. Or I have always liked the idea of the electronic monitoring collars... Forge would not have too hard a time making them, I'm sure. Or..." 'Ro grinned, as always enjoying the game of 'how best to torture the students'. "They must write a five-page essay on the subject of why they wish to go out, and where they will be."

"If we're going to be tyrants, we might as well go all out." Scott's eyes opened suddenly and he got up. "Let's get out of here," he said briskly. "Seriously. Down to Harry's or something. I want out. I think we could both do with the fresh air."

"If we are tyrants, I want a scepter," 'Ro said, still grinning. She stood even as Scott suggested the trip, nodding her agreement. "And the alcohol," she added.

---

"We should be drinking beer," Scott said. "Not scotch. Then again, beer is boring." He tossed back the contents of his glass, wincing. "And scotch is good," he wheezed. "Very, very good.

"I have always held a particular fondness for scotch," 'Ro agreed, looking down at her glass for a moment before downing it in one gulp. "Or is that schnapps?"

"Butterscotch schnapps," Scott agreed cheerfully and refilled his glass. Harry had been kind enough to sell them a bottle. "I remember. You and that guy... what was his name? You know, the idiot. On Memorial Day that one year."

'Ro made a face, sliding her glass over to him. "Lucas. I think I remember why I do not drink schnapps anymore." After Scott had so kindly refilled it she pulled it back, then grinned. "Though at least I was not so drunk that I thought I could complete a backflip without using my hands with my eyes closed..."

Scott coughed. Not because of the drink. "I thought we were never going to speak of that again. It seemed to me that I had certain leverage, and we'd constructed this carefully... constructed deal. Remember the deal?" There had been pictures on his side of the deal, he was fairly sure...

"The deal is only good as long as you still have the leverage," 'Ro reminded him, grinning. "But you forget, when you share a room with a telepath, no hiding place is entirely safe."

"Oh-ho! She didn't," Scott declared, slamming his glass back down a little too hard on the table. "Or wait, no, she did. You two long ago made it very clear that you have absolutely no problem with ganging up on me, and Hank's not here to protect me anymore..." He shook his head irritably and refilled his glass. "Over in Scotland playing house. Big blue goof."

Ororo took another drink, nodding a bit vaguely. "Yes... I wish he would come back. We could use him, I think. Along with... two dozen more able-bodied mutants with combat and medical training to join the team. And a computer that would do all our paperwork..."

"No. No, no," Scott chided her, shaking his head, "we don't wish for two dozen more. Because that would mean more paperwork. And that would be bad." He took a long sip from his class. A judicious sip. Really. "Maybe one dozen," he said. "We could handle one dozen. If they came pre-trained."

"And willing to do our disciplinary action for us," 'Ro added. "That is very important. So that they can have the nicknames and the badly-drawn imitations done of them. So they can resist the urge to grab the students by their shoulders and shake them sometimes."

"Or, we could just tell Nathan that tossing them in the lake is okay again," Scott said brightly. "Lake-tossing makes such an impression. And he likes us. I'm sure he'd toss kids in the lake if we asked him to."

'Ro tilted her head consideringly. "He might even like it," she agreed, nodding. "And it is always good to keep your team happy. Well, then, we have decided on a course of action with a twofold benefit. I think that deserves a drink!"

"What, another?" Scott laughed and raised his glass to clink against hers. "That settles it. New lake-tossing policy. We announce it as soon as we get back... or maybe in the morning. Once we're all... sober and stuff, and can, uh, come up with a way to make it sound less like we'd enjoy watching it a little too much."

"Yes, it would not do to get the reputation that we enjoy our jobs," 'Ro snorted.

"Right. Because then people would think we're not the masochists we are. And then who knows what could happen." Scott paused, trying to think of just what could happen. "They'd look all surprised when we bite their heads off for being dumb?"

"Nonono, they do that already!" Ororo reminded him. "But Mr. Summers, I didn't know that using my powers in an irresponsible and dangerous manner was a bad idea! I only go to this school and take the classes for fun, apparently, not to actually take anything away from them."

"Take something away from them?" Scott gave her a wide-eyed, shocked look. "You've got to be kidding me, Ms. Munroe!" he said indignantly. "They're in school to eat Lorna's food and drool at attractive members of the opposite sex. Sometimes the same sex!"

"And sometimes at the same time!" Oh, maybe the students thought they didn't know all the sordid gossip and backstabbing that went on within the mansion's walls, but what kind of teachers and mentors would they be if they didn't try to keep aware of that sort of thing? Not to mention it made getting the day's soap opera fix that much easier. "Goddess forbid they should actually learn anything of use from us."

"We should, you know, stop living up to our own standards and start living down to theirs. I'm sure it would be a lot more interesting to them if we started acting like teenagers without a thought for... propriety or maturity or anything. I'm sure that we could manage some infidelity or something..." Scott trailed off, his eyes very wide as he stared off into space for a moment. "I didn't just go there. Wait, I did. Fill up my glass again, quick." He held it out.

'Ro hurried to do so, slopping a bit over the side in her rush. She was laughing as she did so, which made keeping the liquid in the glass even more difficult. "I am sure coming home staggering drunk will be immature enough for this week, at least," she assured him, still giggling. "As will trying to teach with a hangover... It is like we're just beginning all over again."

"I say we both wear sunglasses tomorrow. Inside. Just to make them wonder what the hell is the matter with us." Scott nodded sagely, nearly spilling his drink as he brought the glass back to his lips. "And then we can have a competition. How many detentions we can give!"

"That is a challenge I am definitely up to," 'Ro said with a grin. "All tremble in fear and awe before... Storm! Giver of detentions! Assigner of difficult essays! Giver of unfair chores!"

"And if they balk, you can just give them their own personal thundercloud for the next week." Scott got a mournful look. "And all I can do is optic blast them in the head. Which Charles frowns on."

Ororo dissolved into a fit of giggles at this, eventually mastering them enough to straighten up and pat Scott on the shoulder. "There, there," she said, mock-consolingly. "You can still scowl at them, and you do that so well."

Scott tried out several varieties of the Summers scowl. She just kept giggling. "Hah! Liar. You don't look afraid at all."

"Well, eventually you develop an immunity! Remember that week you spent the entire time giving me dirty looks because you thought I was the one who reprogrammed the Danger Room to play 'I'm a Laser' every time you walked through the door. It built up my resistance quite a bit."

Scott huffed and applied himself to his drink. "So good for my pride, you are." He registered, for the first time, that they were apparently being a little loud, and attracting attention from some of Harry's other customers. Scott waved cheerfully at them.

Meanwhile, 'Ro was happily humming along to the song in her head, tapping her fingers on the countertop. "I'm a la-ser, burning through your eyes... And I know what kind of man you are, and I long to hold you tiiiiiight."

"If you start dancing on the bar again, Harry will kick us out. Remember the last time you did that?" Scott said repressively.

"I remember that you were jealous," 'Ro retorted impishly. "You might've looked embarrassed, but you were really wishing you could move like that. You really ought to try dancing with Kurt, he's a wonderful teacher, and so very limber..."

"Limber, huh?" Scott gave her a deadpan look. "Now there's an... interesting choice of words. Done a lot of dancing with your XO, have you?"

'Ro blinked, then blushed, ducking her head as laughter threatened to overtake her again. "I did not... mean it... like... that!"

"Would it be such a bad thing if you did? Kurt's a great guy," Scott insisted, "and you, you so need a guy." He tossed back the rest of the scotch in his glass. "Otherwise you're going to turn into me... no, wait, I turned into me, even though I had a guy... I mean, Jean."

"I don't want to be you, it is a full-time job and I already have two of those," 'Ro said, shaking her head. She fixed him with a stare, which would've been fine, except that she was weaving a little where she sat. "So don't think you can go pawning it off on me and go running off to... Aruba! And another thing, I don't 'need' a guy, I don't even have time for one. They are very inconvenient."

"No, we're not!" Scott protested, gesturing wildly with his empty glass. "We're very nice to have around! Handy! In all kinds of ways!"

"One or two ways, maybe," she amended with a knowing look. "But I do not think I could date anyone at the mansion. They are all far too crazy, and that is the last thing I need. We deal with it enough already."

"Then... uh, go forth and meet a non-crazy guy. Or something. Surely there are lots of nice men out there." Scott paused, tilting his head - and tilting a little dangerously on the bar stool. "I sound like my grandmother sounds when she's talking to her friends about their granddaughters' dating woes. Oh crap."

"Only you, Scott, would get drunk and then sound like your grandmother," 'Ro teased, reaching out to grab his wrist. "Come, I think that is a sure sign we should go home... next you'll try drunk-knitting."

Scott grumbled and pulled out his wallet, leaving sufficient money for the bottle of scotch and a healthy tip on the bar - and then proceeded to fall off the bar stool. Not all the way to the floor, at least. "You pulled me off-balance," he accused Ororo, who was still holding onto his wrist and laughing.

"Did not!" she exclaimed, shaking her head and looking quite offended. "Next you will be accusing me of tilting the ground under your feet while you walk." She tugged him towards the door, her own steps a bit meandering and unsteady.

"I wouldn't put it past you," Scott said severely. The cool night air was like a slap in the face, but the nice kind, and he slung an arm around Ororo's shoulders as they made their way in the direction of the mansion. "You're sneaky that way. Sneaky, evil women. All the women in my life are evil."

"You don't sound paranoid at all when you say that," 'Ro said, giggling. "Besides, women are very nice to have around. And handy. You would miss us if we were gone!"