xp_logs | Log: Scott, Terry/Bobby

Terry and Bobby stop into see Scott with a request. Unfortunately Scott's having a bad day and they make it worse. Not that they see it that way. Takes place before Crystal's birthday dinner.

It was, to put it mildly, a bad afternoon. Nothing (and no one) had blown up, he hadn't had to play disciplinarian, and his morning Engineering class had gone quite well, but it still classed as a bad afternoon. The muscle aches were more like cramps, and he was this close to giving up on the office and hibernating in his room until he didn't hurt quite so much.

The knock was quiet when it came, almost inaudible. Bobby slipped his arm around Terry as she pulled her hand back and squared his shoulders, extending his own fist to knock much more firmly. "Maybe he ought to hear it," he suggested, although he understood her trepidation--and shared it.

"I could hear it," Terry muttered and leaned back against him for a moment until Scott's 'come in' filtered through the door. She glanced up at Bobby then pushed the door open, "Just us, Mr. Summers. Do you have a minute? We'd like to...ask you something." Terry assessed Scott quickly - seven years and a great deal of close observation meant that the stress and pain on his face was noticeably sharper though most wouldn't have noticed it. Terry's hand found Bobby's and squeezed in warning.

Terry. But 'us'...? Scott's eyebrows lifted slightly as he saw Bobby behind Terry, and noted the hand-clinging. Oh, crap... He couldn't help but remember the last time an issue regarding their relationship had come up. Then again, that wasn't the sort of thing that happened twice... was it?

"Sure," he said, and waved a hand at the chairs on the other side of the desk. "Rescue me from my paperwork."

Bobby glanced at Terry and sank into one of the chairs, letting go of Terry's hand somewhat reluctantly. "We were wondering if, uh. Now that Terry's eighteen and all, if we could maybe apply for a suite together?" he stammered, praying they could let it go at that. He hadn't picked up on Scott's state of mind like Terry had, but telling Scott about Vegas was suddenly the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

Maybe he'd get lucky and a giant robot would attack the mansion, or something.

Terry didn't actually sigh in relief that Bobby hadn't told him about their, um, adventure in Vegas. She did lace her hands into her lap, fingers covering her promise ring, just out of a touch of paranoia. "I know I'm just a student and all. But...other people have done it. And I need to move out of the suite I'm in anyway and there isn't really anyone else to room with except maybe Medusa but I don't think she'd like sharing." Babbling. She was babbling.

Other people had indeed done it, he supposed. Paige and Jono, Alex and Lorna... he was not the arbiter of morality around here. They were legal, there was precedent, and frankly, if they wanted to move in together and share some happy little fantasy of happily ever after, who was he to get in the way?

"There are a few vacant suites," he said neutrally. "I'll check on which, and the two of you can go and take a look and decide which one you'd prefer."

Bobby sighed in relief, shooting a grin at Terry. "Great. Thanks, Scott." That had been much easier than he'd thought. He reached for Terry's hand again, completely oblivious to the fact that he hadn't taken his wedding band off that afternoon until the light flashed on the gold. ...Maybe Scott didn't notice, he prayed as he took Terry's hand, casually rotating his grip to conceal the ring.

Terry tensed and sent a barely concealed panicked look at Bobby when she noticed the ring. She covered his hand with hers. "Thank you, Mr Summers. We really appreciate it."

Scott was, however, staring hard at their joined hands. Very hard. "... Bobby, why are you wearing what looks like a wedding ring?" he asked after a moment, the question coming out flat-sounding. Because he really didn't want to know. Really. He wasn't sure what had made him ask, when it was really not anything he wanted or need to know... Yes, Scott, keep trying to convince yourself of that.

"Uh." Bobby slowly retracted his hand from Terry's. What, this old thing? Nah, that wasn't going to fly. "Um. Okay. You know how we went to Vegas?" Oh yeah, that was a smooth beginning.

Terry's eyes widened. They weren't really going to tell this story, right? Bobby was leading up to an explanation about...Elvis. Right? Her hands clenched to fists. "It's a promise ring," she lied rashly. "Like mine. I thought that if I had one, he should to, so we had this silly little ceremony in Vegas for a promise ceremony." Dumbest. Explanation. Ever. She held her breath like that would make Scott buy it.

They hadn't. They hadn't. Scott closed his eyes, rubbing at the spot between his eyes, where someone was currently stabbing him with an invisible icepick. "You got married. In Vegas. Don't bullshit me - that is what you mean by promise ceremony, yes?"

Bobby scooted his chair closer to Terry's, although whether he was doing it to protect her, or so she could protect him, even he wasn't sure. "...It was an accident," he confessed weakly, twining his fingers with Terry's.

Terry glared for half a second. Way to back me up, Robert. "Um..." she sighed, "It really was an accident. It was...we were just playing around and things got a little out of hand." Okay, so maybe her first try hadn't been the dumbest ever. Just the second dumbest.

Scott managed not to let Oh, for the love of God! cross his lips. It was a Herculean effort. "Have you told your father?" he asked Terry tightly. And why did I not hear Sean yelling, if so? "And have you told your parents?" he asked Bobby, his too-level voice a little frayed around the edges.

Bobby started guiltily, dropping his eyes to the floor. He was still trying to figure out just how to tell his folks. His mom was going to freak, and then either disown him, or--help Terry plan the huge ceremony she still wanted to have, and either one was equally likely. "I'll tell them next time I see them," he mumbled under his breath.

Terry squeezed his hand. "I told Sean." She would say no more about it. Instead she took a deep breath and raised her chin defiantly. "It's not like it's any worse than moving in together. At least we are married and we're not just...we have a commitment." Since she didn't have the option to lie her way out of it, Terry would stand her ground. As ever.

Oh, there were so many things he could have said right this second. So very. Many. Things. They ranged from mildly snarky to nasty enough that the two of them would probably never speak to him again. Scott wrestled down the part of him that wanted to be nasty, to hammer home how idiotic this was. It wasn't any of his business, was it? He managed a thin, wintry little smile instead.

"I suppose that does simplify the issue of the suite, doesn't it?"

Bobby rose to his feet, feeling defensive suddenly. Something about Scott's expression stung a lot more than it should have, really. "We love each other, Scott. We may not have planned to get married this soon, but--it's done now, and we love each other, and we're gonna make it work." He pulled Terry to her feet, taking both of her hands in his. "Let us know when we can move, I guess."

Terry was a little stunned by his stance. She was used to being the one who pushed. Bobby was the one who worried what people thought and felt. A little off balance, she stepped closer to him and looked up at him for a second before looking back at Scott. "Aye. As Bobby says." She hesitated then inclined her head slightly in a nod. "Thanks for talking to us."

Did he let them out of here with their charmingly innocent dignity intact? Or do what he really, really wanted to do and rail at them that love wasn't enough, that you could have all the love in the world and it didn't mean that a marriage would work.

It wouldn't make a dent in the fantasy, he suspected. They would do what they wanted, and it would run messily off the rails, and they would wind up bitter far too young. This was like watching the early stages of a train wreck, he thought.

"There is something else you'll need to decide." His voice was cold. "Whether or not you're going to be able to cope with serving on the team together."

Bobby frowned, slipping an arm around Terry's waist protectively. "Why wouldn't we be able to?" he asked, squeezing her gently. Okay, just because there had been problems with some of the other team members, didn't mean Bobby and Terry couldn't handle it...

Terry smiled just a bit. "I'm still just training. We have lots of time to figure out how it will work. If it's a problem, then we'll see it. But lots of team members have served together. Alison and Haroun did." And Jean and Scott but saying that right now would be incredibly the wrong thing to say. "We're not looking for special privileges or anything. We'll do our jobs."

The icepick was back. "Keep in mind how often Alison and Haroun were seriously injured," Scott said grimly, rubbing at his eye. "Imagine yourselves in that position, before you come to any conclusions about how you will or won't handle it. But fine," he said, before either of them could respond. "We'll see how it goes. I'll let you know what suites are free." He quite honestly couldn't put up with much more of this. If he had to listen to this for too much longer, he was going to say something unforgivable.

It wasn't as if Bobby hadn't already thought about how hard it would be if Terry got hurt on the team--he didn't need a gold ring to do that. He nodded as they were quite obviously dismissed. "Right. Thanks. Let's go, hon."

Terry nodded, looking from Bobby to Scott and back then followed as Bobby led them from the room. Despite the fact that the whole thing had been a fair disaster, Terry couldn't help feeling just a little pleased. The office door closed behind them and Terry peeked up at Bobby. "So...we should start packing."

Inside the office, Scott stared at the door for a long moment, his expression blank. Then he shook his head, as if shaking off whatever train of thought had held him in its grip, and looked down at the wedding ring still on his finger. His expression twisted for an instant, then smoothed again. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he slipped the ring off and put it in the top drawer of his desk, slamming the drawer closed again with unnecessary force.