Scott, Chris, and Alex, Thursday afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

The Summers men do some "bonding" in the gym.


"Uh-oh. I seem to be blocking the only exit."

There were indeed times he used the heavy bag for something other than stress release. This afternoon had been one of those times - until his father's voice interrupted his focus and Scott jerked backwards, glaring at the man standing in the doorway of the gym.

"Very funny."

Chris shrugged as he came the rest of the way into the room. "Well, it was meant to be," he said amiably. "I haven't had much luck finding you lately. I get the sense you know this place like the back of your hand."

"I had to learn how to get around it blind, before Charles and... before he figured out the ruby quartz glasses," Scott said grudgingly, taking a step back from the bag and pulling off his gloves. Just because he wasn't going to flee the room didn't mean he intended to stick around for a long conversation. Whatever Ororo had said.

"Ah." Chris watched him for a moment, the look in his eyes unreadable. "How long?" he said finally. Scott gave him an uncomprehending look. "Between the times your powers manifested and the glasses."

"Longer than I like to think about," Scott responded briefly. Not elaborating. Damn it, why had he picked this hour of the afternoon to be in here? he thought, frustrated. No one was around - all the kids were in class, and they had nearly this whole level to themselves.

Chris sighed, but didn't say anything for a moment. He came over to the bag, pushing at it idly. "I met Ororo. She seems nice." Scott grunted; Chris persisted. "The two of you have a lot of responsibilities here, for comparatively young people..."

"I had to grow up fast." And the hostility just... made its way in there, despite his attempt to keep his voice neutral.

Chris's jaw clenched, but his voice was remarkably even as he went on. "Yeah, I can imagine. You know, not entirely unfamiliar with that myself. I joined the Air Force far too young, really. I remember Mom was appalled - well, she's probably told you that story."

Scott stared flatly at him.

Chris gazed back at him for a moment, then looked briefly heavenwards as he muttered something under his breath in a language Scott didn't recognize. "It's like pulling teeth."

"Maybe you should step away from the dentist's tools, then," Scott said, irritated.

"Yeah, maybe I should. Let you get back to running away from me. That a habit, with anything you don't want to deal with?"

Scott did not regularly see red, optic blast or no optic blast, but that so-casual question just... did it. Before he really knew what he was doing, he'd punched his father in the jaw. Again. Chris reeled back, but then moved far too fast for a man in late middle age, and despite the fact that his prosthesis did ping to alert him to the punch coming in on his blind side, Scott didn't react in time to block it.

"If this is the way you want to communicate, Scott, fine," his father growled. "You think I lived fifteen years in Madripoor without getting used to hotheads who'd rather speak with their fists?"

Hothead... he's calling me a hothead? But really, the idea of hitting Chris instead of the heavy bag was all kinds of attractive right now. "Fine," Scott snarled. "I'm getting sick of listening to you talk anyway." But he didn't just fling himself at Chris, for all of that. He was not a hothead. He was perfectly capable of fighting smart, getting his hits in.

Unfortunately, so was his father. Who really did move entirely too fast, and was sneaky, to boot. The next exchange of blows did not end as Scott had intended, and he found himself flat on his back on the mats.

Chris shook his head. "Get up, son," he said, and Scott couldn't take any consolation in the fact that his father was breathing hard. "I'm not done with you yet."

Scott turned the roll back to his feet into a tackle. This didn't have to be a boxing match. He landed a couple of punches of his own, but so did Chris, the last one hard enough to buy himself some room to get back up. "Sick of this," Scott muttered under his breath, coming back to his feet as well. "Sick of you, and Alex acting like you're the second coming-"

"This isn't about your brother, Scott," Chris said, and charged him. He was Scott's height, and much bulkier.

Not finding Scott in his usual places, Alex knew to come check the normal broody X-man hiding spot: the heavy bag. His theory worked on Lorna, Shiro and Scott and it had yet to fail him. Can't find a member of the X-men? Go check the bag. Chances are, we'll need a new one by sundown. He wanted to talk to Scott about his reaction to their father. He still didn't understand what was going on with his brother and figured no time like the present to find out.

Of course, he hadn't been expecting to find both brother and father in an all out fight. He could only stare in amazement for a few moments before scrambling over to pull them apart. "Hey! Ho'oku'u! Stop it!"

Alex did manage to get them apart, but Scott didn't particularly register his brother's presence until he was slamming into an annoying-taller-than-him obstacle standing between him and his father. "What the hell do you want from me?" he shouted, enraged - at Chris, not Alex.

Chris was still breathing hard, and bleeding a little from the mouth. "I don't want anything from you," he growled back at his eldest son. "Nothing except for you to stop the silent treatment. You want to be angry at me, be angry!"

Gritting his teeth as his much stronger brother slammed into him, Alex still didn't budge from between them. "Stop it both of you! What the hell!?" Rolling his eyes as he realized neither were listening to him, he concentrated on keeping them apart. Figuring they had to get this out, before it killed one of them. Or more, before they killed each other.

Somehow, Chris's response only made Scott angrier. "You fucking manipulative old bastard," he spat, still trying to detach Alex and get around him. "You want me angry? Why, so that I'll satisfy your masochism?" Chris went visibly gray, and Scott pushed away from Alex, moving back instead of forward. "You want to be punished for the last fifteen years, do it yourself!"

Alex couldn't help a small sigh at the sudden breathing room, as it was a bit less daunting when he wasn't physically pushing them apart. "I think you're both doing enough of that for everyone." He grumbled as he watched both of them, wondering if they were still wrapped up in each other or if he was going to be able to get a word in.

Chris rubbed at his jaw, his eyes still locked on Scott. "You think I haven't been listening to what your friends and coworkers do and don't say about you, while I've been here?" he said gruffly. "Maybe I do want to be punished. But you're so goddamned afraid that I'm going to disapprove of you that you're either freezing me out or trying to shut me up."

Scott half-whirled back towards them, going white. If he'd had whoever had given Chris that idea to hand right that second, he'd have throttled them without a second thought. "That's bullshit," he spat.

Alex's eyes went completely wide. Oh no... He braced himself to shove them apart again, because this? Was so not going to be good.

"Is it? I'm not an idiot, Scott - I saw how you tensed up when Alex started talking about all the things that had happened to him. You wanted out of that room damned fast, didn't you?"

The only reason Scott didn't run right over Alex after that was the purely tactical realization that faking him out with a feint to the left would get him past his brother and to his father faster and more efficiently. And that was highly, highly desirable, because he was going to pound the man's face in.

Damnit. Alex knew he should have been prepared for Scott to go all training on him. Of course if this had been months ago, when Alex had returned from Hawaii, he wouldn't have even caught on on to what was going on, but even if he couldn't outmaneuver his brother, he knew where he was going. He stepped back and moved to shove Scott away before he could ram into their father again.

"Damn it, get out of my way, Alex!" He wasn't far gone enough to slug his little brother. He was saving the slugging for the pirate with the stupid mustache.

"Get out of his way, Alex," Chris said with a sigh that might have been just the tiniest bit overdone, in contrast to the cool, measuring look he was giving his oldest son. "I'd rather have this out and get it done. I mean, better some constructive violence right now than letting him brood for the next five years." He gave the infuriated Scott a very slight smile. "I have been talking to your friends, like I said..."

"You know what?" Alex said loudly to get their attention as he made a show of throwing up his hands and backing off. "You two want to go at it, fine. Don't let me get in the way. But I hope you both realize this just proves how alike you two are. I'll be over here to make sure no one ends up dead." He shook his head in disgust as he move to lean against the wall. "God I'm glad I take after Mom."

Some of the wind was taken out of Scott's sails by Alex's comment, and he paused, flushing. "I'm not-" He managed to bite back the 'like him', barely.

Chris actually looked mildly amused. "You do, you know," he said to Alex, although it came out sounding more wistful than anything else. "She had her own special kind of stubborn streak, though. Not quite as overt as mine." The irony was back in his voice as he turned back to Scott. "Or yours."

Scott glared back at him, but was already gathering the shreds of his composure. "Bite me."

"I see I shouldn't have worried about how much I regretted missing the rest of your teenaged years. You're obliging me by reverting to them. Precisely what kind of insecurity are you sitting on," Chris went on with a certain razor-edged precision, "that me being here is making you this unhinged?"

"Oh, sure, that's it. You're just getting under my skin - of course, that's it!" Sarcasm fairly dripped from Scott's words, and he found himself advancing on his father again, if more slowly. "It's got nothing to do with you playing pirate in Madripoor while Alex and I were trying to make it on our own-"

"I don't know. Looks like pretty cushy surroundings to me," Chris said, his gesture taking in the whole mansion. "I know Alex has had some problems, but I'm having a hard time understanding why you think you've been so hard done-by..."

Oh shit...Alex's eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to say something...but then he stayed quiet, though he stood up from his position against the wall, just in case. They need to get this out. he told himself though that didn't stop his hands from warming slightly as he drew a slight bit of power into them...just in case he had to knock Scott away. Because this? Was not going to be pretty.

It was pretty much the end of the verbal banter at that point. Chris did not proceed to get an optic blast to the face, either - although Scott would not be precisely sure why, afterwards. Some remaining vestige of restraint, maybe. Or maybe just the knowledge that Jean was already going to kill him.

Had there been an outside audience besides the appalled Alex, they would have been forgiven for putting money on the brief, vicious fight that ensued. It was a far closer thing than one might have expected. The truth was, Christopher Summers was in impressive physical shape for someone his age, and put his skills into practice almost as often as his son did. He wasn't as fast - age was definitely on Scott's side - but he was heavier, with a longer reach and a whole repertoire of dirty tricks.

Because the other truth was that old and sneaky could indeed beat young and angry. Especially when old and sneaky had been very calculating about this whole thing, and had picked the fight with a very clear goal in mind. Chris held on, waiting for the right moment -and took it, as soon as it arrived.

Scott landed hard on the mats, the wind knocked right out of him. "Okay," Chris said raggedly, swaying a little and pausing to spit blood. "I seriously - seriously hope that will do, Scott. You sure as hell don't pull your punches."

Look who's talking... Scott wheezed, tried to sit up - and wound up sagging back against the mats while he tried to convince his lungs to work.

The fight had been the hardest thing Alex had ever had to watch but he'd remained where he is, though his hands were balled into tight fists and were glowing quite brightly. "Are you two finally finished trying to establish who hits harder?" While bitter, his voice was also slightly relieved. Maybe now they could have a conversation that didn't involve fists.

"Sorry, Alex," Chris said, and actually sounded penitent. He gave Alex a half-smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but looked like it hurt. "I didn't mean half of that crap, I hope you know..."

"Yes you did." Alex cut his father off as he moved to crouch next to Scott to see if he was okay, taking deep breaths to make his powers go away. "But you both needed to say those things as much as you needed to beat the crap out of each other. Believe me, I've heard worse. Scott? You need help?"

Scott had been lying there during Chris and Alex's exchange, trying to breathe and generally thinking evil thoughts regarding the world and everyone in it. "I hate you," he grated - at his father, not Alex.

"I'm getting that impression." Chris sighed, moving somewhat awkward over to crouch on Scott's other side. "Trying to figure out why. I mean, I thought fishing you out of the Indian Ocean would have won me at least a few points..."

"It's Scott. Once he gets something in his head, it takes nothing short of the world ending to change it. Though I'm still not sure why he hates you but at least we're at the admitting stage." His tone was light and teasing, almost normal Alex, but his eyes trained on Scott were still serious.

"You... breeze back into our lives-"

"I feel obligated to point out that you were the one who dropped in out of the sky."

"-Alex is thrilled," Scott persisted stubbornly, still wheezing a little as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, "Phillip and Deborah don't want to take their eyes off you, like you're going to vanish again if they do-" Chris was blinking rapidly all of a sudden.

"And suddenly you're not the man of the family any more." Alex said evenly, looking right at Scott.

Scott flushed, pulling himself back to his feet and taking a somewhat unsteady step back, away from the two of them. "I may have done... a pretty fucking miserable job of looking after Alex, and been a self-absorbed, neurotic moron for a good portion of my twenties, but I did the best I could. And you show up, wanting to know about all of it... you don't have the right to have an opinion. You weren't here." Chris was wearing the look of a man who was beginning to realize that he really ought to have chosen a different strategy.

Alex groaned and hung his head. Great, just great. There were so many things he wanted to say to that, including how he'd taken care of himself for years before Scott and how most of his screw ups were his own fault but he doubted Scott wanted to hear that right now. "Would you rather he didn't care?" He asked instead.

Scott just shook his head, almost violently. "I have enough people's expectations to live up to," he snapped, and turned towards the doors. "There's no room left on the list, so just... drop it. Bond with Alex. Leave me alone." He stalked out of the gym without another word.

Chris swore, quietly and tiredly but still rather vehemently, in Chinese. "Wasn't quite as productive as I'd hoped," he said, swaying noticeably as he got up. He gave Alex a half-defensive, half-worried look. "I wasn't trying to make things worse," he said gruffly, a bark of weary laughter escaping. "You know, once upon a time I was not such a terrible father."

Alex mentally repeated his swears in Hawaiian as he watched Scott leave, his heart sinking slightly. "I know. It's not all your fault." He sighed and stood up, before giving his dad a small smile. "He just thinks it's all his."

"If I haven't pissed you off too badly," Chris said, still a little unsteady on his feet, "I do have a request."

"It takes more then a pissing contest to piss me off. What's up dad?" Alex asked as he moved over to put an arm around his father's shoulders, seeing the slight wobble on his feet.

"Hide me from your sister-in-law?" A helpless laugh slipped out, and Chris immediately winced, one hand going to his side. "Damn. I would not want to have to fight your brother when he's not blind with rage. Although," Chris said, "he does seem to leave one side way open, for some reason..."

Alex couldn't help burst out laughing. "Come on, you need to come meet the closest thing to grandchildren your going to have for a long time. After we take you to the medlab." Then he continued, totally without thinking. "Well you know, it's part of the whole only having one eye thing. He's good but he's still got blind side issues." Then he paused. "You...did know about that right?"

Chris was silent for an uncomfortable long moment. "No," he finally said, quietly, "but he's not done a whole lot of looking me in the eye. I missed that." He sighed, looking around at Alex as they headed into the hall. "I missed a lot," he said. "There's no real catching up, but... I'm glad you'll talk to me about it, at least. You don't know how much that means to me."

"You're my dad." Alex said as if that explained everything, with a matching grin. "And, I think one day, Scott will realize that too. Now come on. Let's get you patched up. Crush will cheer you up, he's good at that."