Scott and Ororo, Saturday evening

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Ororo shows up at Scott's office door with a certain feline escapee. They talk about a matter of concern - specifically Kurt, in the aftermath of what he had to do in Monaco - and then Scott suggests to Ororo that they do something novel, and actually go out for the evening. She thinks it's a fine idea.


It was alarmingly quiet, Scott thought - and immediately smiled mirthlessly at the absurdity of his own train of thought. Since when is quiet bad? It's not always broken by explosions, Summers. He leaned back in his chair, staring somewhat blankly at the computer screen. He'd been entering grades, he reminded himself, from those first quizzes. Possibly he should finish that before he zoned out completely.

Suddenly the peace and quiet was broken by a knock on the door, followed by some strange, unidentifiable noises. "Scott. I believe I have something of yours." Ororo pushed open the half-closed door, preceded by a yowling sack held outstretched in one hand. She marched over to his desk, looking miffed, and placed (not dropped) the bag in front of him.

"I will give you one guess as to who it is and where I found her."

"... she wasn't in the greenhouse again, was she?" Scott asked meekly, leaning forward and opening the sack. A very aggravated kitten promptly jumped out onto his desk, and he sighed. "Look, you," he told her. "Either you stay in the suite or you get the anti-dander treatment regularly so that you don't make Charles die of allergies. I thought we had an agreement." Desdesmona yowled at him - but also jumped down into his lap, giving Ororo a baleful look.

"She was in my zinnias. My zinnias, Scott." Returning the kitten's glare, Ororo plopped down in the chair on the other side of the desk, crossing her arms over her chest. There was a fresh scratch on her hand, near the one she had gotten from touching Penny earlier that week. "Cats cannot be trusted to keep to agreements. I would think you would know that by now."

The kitten purred, rubbing her head against Scott's hand. "You're going to hate me when I start bathing you regularly," he murmured at her, then looked up at Ororo. "Thank you for retrieving her," he said, having to work very hard to keep a straight face.

"You are lucky I did not tell Charles," she replied sulkily, pursing her lips. In truth, she didn't dare tell the professor for fear that he might somehow know about the shriek she had given when the little black cat had pounced on her hand from amongst the flowerpots. And she wasn't about to tell Scott that, either. "What are you working on here, since you are obviously not overseeing your cat-chaperoning duties?"

"Marking," Scott said, then blinked at the screen. "Or entering marks," he said, his brow creasing a bit. He'd maybe overdone it with the painkillers this afternoon. This was definitely a little spacier than he should be. "It's very quiet around here," he said. "Kind of hard to concentrate, odd as that sounds..."

"Yes, I have noticed that as well. There is the occasional shout from outside, if the windows are open, but beyond that, it is too quiet. I have long since given up trying to accomplish any real work."

"I suppose we should be glad that they are quiet," Scott said, still stroking the kitten's head as Des turned another circle and then settled down contentedly in his lap. "Rather than beating on the infirmary door. And tomorrow they'll be camping."

"Remind me to thank Cain and Haller for that idea," Ororo said, nodding. "It is the best I have heard in quite some time. Although I do not go so far as to hope they will have all forgotten about it when they return on Monday."

Scott glanced at the window, then back at Ororo. "I suppose Kurt probably won't join them," he said, not quite lightly.

Ororo shook her head, the set of her shoulders tightening just a bit. "No. I have not seen him out and about since we returned, to be honest. I would seek him out if I did not think he wants the solitude more than anything else."

"That this happened with Marius, of all people... after how upset he was by what happened earlier..." Scott shook his head, his lips pressed together tightly. "It's the pot calling the kettle black, here, and me offering advice that it's not precisely my place to give right now, 'Ro... but I think you should see if you can't get him to talk to you. The two of you have always been closer."

She ignored the flash of selfishness that rose up in her, the one that said that there was nothing she could say to Kurt that would make either of them feel better. Instead she merely nodded, knowing that Scott meant well. "I am concerned for him, it is true. What he was called upon to do... I would not blame him if he wished to take a hiatus from the team. But he has not asked for that, so perhaps talking about it would be the next best thing."

Scott caught the flash of something in her eyes, but didn't comment on it. "We could just drop a word in Charles's ear," he pointed out.

"Yes. Perhaps. I do not know. We shall see." Ororo glanced away, to the window, obviously gathering her thoughts once again.

He was still worried about her, Scott admitted to himself. "I could talk to him?" he offered a bit awkwardly, shifting slightly in his chair. "I don't know that I have any business trying to talk to anyone about their mental state, mind you..." It was supposed to be a joke, but it came off sounding more than a little feeble.

'Ro cracked a smile, shaking her head a bit regretfully. "No, it is fine, Scott. You are right, I am closer to Kurt. It should be I who speaks with him. Or at least to Charles about him."

Scott nodded, more than a little relieved. "He's really not been having a great summer... then again, none of us have. But you know Kurt, too. Our ultimate introvert."

"Yes. I only hope that beneath it, he recognizes that he can talk, if he needs to. We are a team, there is no need for one member to bear their burdens alone. Of course, that is a lesson for all of us, not just Kurt."

Scott raised an eyebrow at her. "Hey, Des, I think Ororo's trying to make a point," he told the kitten, who raised her head and mewed at him.

"Yes... talk about your problems and do not rip up my flowers," Ororo said dryly. "Follow those rules and I will have no need to zap you out of frustration."

"I should take her upstairs, I suppose." He didn't move, however. "You gave up on work, you said," he murmured. "Why don't we go out or something?"

"Out?" she repeated, as if this was a foreign word she was hearing for the first time. "It is quiet, I suppose we could leave and not be missed..."

"There's a movie I wouldn't mind seeing," Scott said, and part of him boggled at the sheer normalcy of the idea. "'Flyboys'? About aviators in World War I..." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "Yeah, a phenomenally unpredictable choice on my part, I know."

This drew a smile from the headmistress and she nodded, looking more enthused about the idea now. "I suppose we could see that, as long as you promise not to bore me about the many ways the 'Bird is superior to whatever they flew in those days."

"Why don't you go get ready to go, then?" Scott suggested. If they were going to do this, they probably needed to do it before either of them discovered something more productive that they really, really had to be doing. Or before we lose our nerve, hah. "I'll deliver the cat back to where she should be, check on showtimes, and meet you in the garage?"

"Very well." Ororo rose, giving Desdemona a wary glance before turning for the door. Halfway there she stopped and whirled around quickly, her expression shocked. "Scott! Your birthday was yesterday."

Scott gave her a slow, distinctly amused smile. "No it wasn't. You're just imagining things." He rose slowly - very slowly, because if he started tottering in front of Ororo, that would be bad. Even if his head was spinning just a little. I'll go throw some water on my face before we go out.

"I know I forgot, but that is no reason to act like that," 'Ro said, frowning. "I am sorry, Scott. I have not even had a chance to wrap your present, yet."

He shook his head at her. "'Ro, it doesn't matter, I swear. I am... okay, the polar opposite of at all bothered by the fact that my birthday went by unnoticed. First, it's been yet another week from hell. Second, I'm not really all that keen on the idea of celebrating my inexorable march towards thirty."

"That does not excuse the fact that I have been a bad friend. I hope you will at least let me pay for the movie tonight. And possibly ice cream. Let's get ice cream," she insisted.

"If you want ice cream, we will definitely have ice cream," Scott said firmly. "And if you want to pay for it, I'm not going to argue with you. I have to keep Des here in cat treats, after all."

--

"...two scoops, please," Ororo informed the man behind the counter, smiling brightly. "It is a shame we cannot put a candle on it," she added, leaning over to murmur to Scott. "But it will have to do."

After they both received their cones, Ororo and Scott wandered outside to sit at a small table beneath a tree, watching the passers-by as they ate. It was a Saturday night and hence busier than normal. It felt almost strange to be out there among all the normal people - Now I know I need to get out more.

"Going to be too cold to do this, in another couple of weeks," Scott said, settling into his chair. His mood was considerably brighter than it had been. He'd rather liked the movie. "So what do you think flying those little biplanes would have been like?" he asked playfully. "I want one, now."

"After watching how often they fell out of the sky?" Ororo said skeptically. "I think there are safer ways to get around... like your motorcycle, for example. Or a burning pogo stick."

"But imagine how little there was between you and the air," Scott said, and was a bit surprised at the edge of longing that crept into his voice. He smiled a bit sheepishly at her. "Not all of us can manage flight on our own, after all."

Ororo's expression softened, and she smiled back sympathetically. "I know. Surely there must be places that still fly biplanes. You could find one and try it. I know you would do well."

"Eh, it's just a passing fancy, I suppose. It's not like I don't-" Scott stopped, blinking down at his ice cream for a moment, and then took a deep breath. "I've been thinking, Ororo. About the 'Bird. I have some ideas for modifications that I could be working on... nothing that would take her off-line, I promise."

"And nothing that would give her any additional wings?" Ororo asked, nudging his foot under the table with her own.

"Oh, no. I'll draw up the specifics, run it past you - and the one who pays the bills, of course. It's not anything that's going to break the bank, but still." He wasn't sure why he was feeling so awkward about this. "I just... it's something that I can do, and I may as well be doing it. It doesn't... require anything I can't give right now."

"That sounds wonderful, Scott. I will look forward to seeing the plans, even if I know whatever you come up with is bound to be good." Ororo smiled and bit into her cone. It was good to see him showing interest in the Blackbird again, and in creating things. After all, it was in creation that joy originally began.

He really didn't know how he'd expected her to react. Some of the tension went out of his posture and he straightened, smiling back at her before applying his attention to the ice cream. "Nothing that involves any symbols painted on her skin, either," he said. "Although don't think I don't have all kinds of bizarre ideas, now..."

"As long as it is not a bulls-eye," she said, chuckling.

"I wouldn't tempt fate." The ice cream was really quite good. Ororo had been very definitive about needing to come here, although he'd never seen this little ice cream parlor before. "I thought the love story was a bit gratuitous..." Scott stopped, then rolled his eyes at himself. "Will you listen to me. Damn."

"I thought it was nice. If idealized," Ororo said thoughtfully. "Oh, watch out..." She leaned over and caught a drop of ice cream with her napkin before it had a chance to land on his sleeve.

"The fact that he never did find her in Paris at the end redeemed it a little for me. I'm turning into a cynic." He smiled faintly, nodding at her for the save, and focused on eating his ice cream for a minute or two instead of talking.

"I think I am going to stop seeing Patrick," Ororo announced suddenly, breaking the silence almost too abruptly. Looking a bit guilty, she swallowed, wiping her fingers on her napkin. "Speaking of cynicism."

Scott tilted his head at her. "Same old, same old?" he asked. Patrick was a good man, and he suspected that the problem was just as it had been the last time, that he and Ororo made better friends than they did 'something more'.

Ororo nodded, her expression resigned. "It is better this way," she said, trying for lightness in her tone and not exactly acheiving it. "Things will only be getting busier with the school."

"Things are always busy with the school," Scott pointed out. "Doesn't mean that we can't... well, theoretically, it doesn't mean that we can't have lives beyond that. Just don't forget that, okay?" he asked, trying, like she had, to make it light. Not quite managing it either.

"Of course." She swept up the sprinkles idly with her fingers, covering them with a napkin and scooping it all into her hand. "So. I think you would cut quite a figure with one of those little pilot's caps and goggles," she said, baldly switching the subject. "Perhaps we should incorporate that into our uniforms."

"And a jaunty scarf. Can't forget the jaunty scarf." Scott finished off his ice cream and reached for his napkin. "You know," he said, "it's been too long since we did this. When did we stop doing normal things like this?"

"About the time you became headmaster?" Ororo ventured, raising her eyebrows. "So... eons ago."

"We should change that. Try and do something like this once a week. Or maybe biweekly," he said wryly, "so as not to be overly ambitious. What do you think?"

"I would like that, very much," she replied warmly. "As long as there is ice cream involved, you can count me in." Grinning, she stood and threw away her trash, then waited for him to do the same before linking arms with him.

"You wouldn't care to substitute hot chocolate or something once we're in the dead of winter?"

"Of course not. That is what hot fudge is for, silly."