Cyclops (sort of) and Kyle, today at lunchtime.

[x-wildchild.livejournal.com]

Kyle gets a page down to Scott's office for a talk, shares birthday cupcakes and gets a Awesome birthday present in return.



The door to Mr. Summers' office was open, and so in lieu of knocking, Kyle appeared at the doorway and waited for acknowledgment of his presence and then waggled a small sized tupperware container at him. "You page, I bring leftover baked stuff. I think Laurie's trying to apologize by way of making me -fat-. I got like a billion cupcakes for my birthday from her."

Scott looked up from his paperwork and blinked, cracking a smile. "You brought me baked goods? Awesome. I haven't had breakfast. Sit down," he said, gesturing at the chair opposite him at the desk. "This is not a riot-act reading, either, so don't worry."

"I think Laurie's trying to bribe me with food so I won't throw her in the lake for dumb comments." Kyle explained, handing the tupperware container over. "Even with healing, though, man, people keep feeding me. I mean, double-protein from Lorna for the ear thing, plus cake, plus cupcakes, plus truffles, plus my grandmom sent me cookies and bread. If I don't share, I'll explode trying to eat it before it all goes bad." Not to mention that sharing food was important, but that was harder to explain then he could manage. "So, no riot act for my Van Gogh impression?" The ear was almost entirely healed - soft tissue being much faster to grow back then bones.

"Honestly, the Van Gogh thing was a little more frightening than anything else. I mean, I understand the sentiment, but still." Scott opened the container, pondered the contents for a moment, and then opted for a cupcake. "So how are you doing?" he asked. "That was... a rough ending to what was supposed to be a pick-up."

"I'm.. something. I dunno. Kinda glad Lorna went all fish-veggie-itarian because, uh, not metaphorically or anything, that whole thing kinda stunk." Kyle answered. "And, lots of visiting Doc Samson." He scratched at the healing part of his ear idly. "I'm trying not to think about it, mostly. I mean, he was a kid, and there wasn't a lot we could do." And there wasn't a lot of difference between Eric Wilson and Kyle Gibney, when you came right down to it, except genes, some luck, and marginally more accepting parents. "If I think about it, I start asking questions that, you know, not really my job to answer."

Scott's eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn't had any really clear idea of how he was going to handle this conversation, unlike the last time, so he was more than willing to go with the flow. Especially when Kyle raised a relatively pertinent point. "It's hard, where there's nothing that can be done... or when you're too late, or too slow."

"It was kinda .. I mean, I know that Nate only got -me- out of Mistra, and there were kids there with me who didn't.. " Kyle stammered a bit, uncharacteristically. "You know. But.. I dunno, I found out later and when I did find out there was all that other stuff I was dealing with." Like being an idiot. "I have a appointment with Doc Samson to talk about it. But I mean, when don't I have one with him to talk about something? At least this time it'll be new, and not the dog thing for the billionth time." He attempted to smile, to throw his normal easy grin, and didn't quite make it.

"There are ways to deal with it, as much as it can be 'dealt with', at least. Talking to Leonard is one of them. When it's mission-related stuff, Charles is just as good," Scott said. "Although if you want to talk to people who've been through those 'can't do anything' situations, your teammates are a good bet, too..."

"It feels weird?" Kyle said, sounding more unsure of himself then anything. "I mean, I dunno, it's not like, helpful locker room conversation to be like "Oh, yeah, I'm still working on that 'call for help before I get overwhelmed by drones' thing and hey, the zombie farmers really freaked me the crap out.' and I'm really glad that Legion and Storm had to deal with the human ones because I didn't want to!" He hadn't really meant to say all that much, but it just sort of all came out at once.

Yes, following his instincts in conversations like this was a very good thing. Instead of patting himself on the back, however, Scott just smiled slightly. "Feels weird," he said, "but I think it's better said. Especially since when you say it, I can tell you that it's not, I don't know, letting the side down or anything to be glad that you weren't the one who had to deal with the worst of it." There was something a little grim about Scott's voice as he continued. "Especially since your turn will almost certainly come at some point."

"Yeah, but ... " Kyle waved his hands around his head, obviously frustrated with himself. "I mean, it feels pretty, you know, shitty, pardon the language, to think, hey, I'm glad someone else had to do that because I don't know if I could have?" He shook his head, frowning. "I feel like I should apologize or something."

"Oh, yes. You're going to fit right in," Scott said under his breath, and opened his desk drawer, removing a small black box. "Happy birthday," he said, opting for the simplest possible thing to say, and pushed the box across the desk to Kyle.

Kyle started the 'stare at Mr. Summers, stare at the box, stare at Mr. Summers, stare at the box' before he opened it. It didn't stop after he opened it, or after he poked at the collar tabs with his finger. Somewhere in between that, he managed a stammered 'Thank you" and then continued poking, staring and looking entirely flummoxed.

"If you don't mind too much, I might keep you out of any real heavy missions until graduation-" Just so that no one calls Child Welfare Services on the school or anything. "-but you're ready for those. You've been doing well in training, you've acquitted yourself well in the field, and I have faith that you can hold your own right along with the rest of the team." Scott allowed himself to smile, finally. "Long way from the kid who got transported here tranqed in a helicopter, Kyle."

"So I can stop being Beast Boy, right?" It wasn't the first thing he'd thought of, just the first one he could articulate. "Uh. Yeah, I... uh.. Hey, I had an excuse for the tranqing!" He finally got out, deciding that mock-indignation was better then remaining speechless or stammering out any more excessive thank yous. Even if he didn't stop prodding at the box and collar tabs just to keep reassuring himself they were actually real.

"Yeah, please do. It's gotten harder and harder to say that with a straight face." Marius's was even worse, of course. Scott gave his teammate one of those slight, ever-so-slightly sadistic smiles that made most X-Men flinch, at the very least. "Of course, once you're fitted for the black leathers, the really fun Danger Room runs start."

"Dude, I can't even pronounce Marius' real code name. It's why he's Chupathingy." Kyle said. "I tried saying the other one. I bit my tongue." That and Marius' code name evoked the same mild discomfort that his own did, and so it was easier to not even try to get it right in the first place. "Wait, really fun -how-?" he asked, catching the expression. "I thought the "Cyclops is evil!" thing was a joke!"

"God no," Scott said with all apparent sincerity. "I restrain myself with trainees so as not to scare them off too soon. There are whole files worth of Danger Room scenarios you don't even know exist yet."

Kyle grunted, slumping back in the chair, and yet kept glancing down at the box and collar tabs just to make sure they wouldn't disappear in his hands. "And I bet if I don't get the black leathers fitted, you'll just make me do them in the grey ones, or in blacks that give me an atomic wedgie." He paused, and his face lit up briefly. "Hey, does this mean I get to learn how to fly the Blackbird?"

"We'll see," Scott said with a perfectly straight face. "Why don't you take those," he said, indicating the collar tabs, "and go consult some of your teammates on a permanent codename?"

It occurred to Kyle that he'd heard that "We'll see." before. Usually when one or both of his parents or his grandparents were attempting to distract a much-younger him from something they didn't want him doing. But even the brief pang of disappointment didn't do too much to dampen his mood - he was an X-Man, he could discard his much-hated trainee codename, and this was, in Kyle's short history of actually celebrated birthdays, the best one he'd had. Ever.