xp_logs | Love Potion Number 9: Doug and Scott

Set some time this morning, after Jamie's staff-wide email about Doug not having slept in his bed last night. Scott finds Doug and talks to him.

Scott entered the arcade, eyes scanning for the blonde head. He saw Doug at the back, at one of those shooter games. /And Ali's worried about teaching to shoot.../ He shook his head and walked toward the back, pulling a couple of quarters out of his pocket. It was the two-person version of this game, and he slid the quarters into the slot, picking up the gun, punching the two player button, and taking aim.

Doug's smooth, efficient motion jerked crazily for a moment when he realized who had just joined in next to him. ~At least they didn't send Ms. Blaire,~ came the relieved thought. He recovered after a moment and continued double-tapping pixellated enemies, not willing to say anything for the moment.

Scott played in silence, watching the screen, but out of the corner of his eye, watching Doug. He saw the flinch, but as Doug returned to his concentration, actively ignoring the man next to him, Scott let him be. /Sometimes, you have to wait for them to come to you./

After the combined pair made quick work of the climactic ending sequence, Doug briefly toyed with the idea of starting another game, just to avoid talking about it for a while longer. Grudgingly, he slid his gun into the console holster. Without looking at Scott, he grated out "So I suppose there's some kind of tracker in the car, and you've come to take me back to face the music."

Leaning against the machine, Scott toyed with the gun with his hands, but his eyes were on Doug. "Why don't you tell me what happened, and then we'll figure out what sort of music you need to face?"

Doug closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the console. His voice held a very obvious tone of self-mockery. "Let's see, yesterday I woke up, went to class, had a good number of the female population of the mansion desperately in love with me because of a love potion, and then ran away, because I know that there are going to be some people who want to kill me. That about sum it up?"

He put the gun away very carefully, mouth tight, controlled. "Tell me why you used it. What did you expect to gain, Doug?" He hadn't immediately denied actually using it, spiking Scott's anger.

"I _didn't_ use it," was the heated response. "Not that anyone is likely to believe that. Poor desperate Doug. Wants to be loved so bad he has to resort to magic."

Scott took Doug by the jaw, forcing him to look up at the older man. "Cut the shit, Doug. No one is in any mood for your self-pity, certainly not me." He let him go, trying to release his own rage and mostly succeeding. "If you say you didn't do it, I believe you. Do you really think so little of your friends? So, tell me more about this potion, and how you got it."

Doug squirmed against Scott's iron grip, rattled by seeing only his own reflection in the ruby shades. Scott, however, wasn't having any of it. "Amanda," Doug finally managed. "She said she was tired of me moping over Marie. I didn't like the idea, but she obviously thought it would be funny or something."

"She gave it to you. Then what happened." It wasn't a question.

"I was going to get rid of it. I swear. I just...I wasn't sure if I had to do anything special to neutralize it or something like that. Had this stupid mental picture of a bunch of lovestruck squirrels following me around if I threw it out the window. So I hid it in the bottom drawer of my desk." Doug shook his head violently. "Nobody knew it was there, or even that Amanda had made it but me. How'd it get out? I don't..."

Scott closed his eyes behind the visor. If it hadn't been Doug, then he had a good idea who. Proving it was another matter. Opening his eyes, he focused once more on the young man in front of him. "How long did you have it? No, wait. Why not just toss it down the drain, or down the toilet? Why not ask Amanda? Why not *not* take it from her? Did you really think this would work, for a single second?" His voice had risen as he pelted Doug with the questions, and it took an effort to bring the volume back down. They were starting to gain some stares from the few other people in the arcade.

Doug breathed a sigh. "She gave it to me Sunday night. I didn't know if it'd get into the water supply or something. I was _afraid_ of something like this happening, okay?" Doug's voice raised slightly. "And she just shoved it into my hand and went. I was going straight to find her the next morning and ask."

"Plumbing. You're going to take lessons from Cain on just how the plumbing system of the school operates. Move." Scott pointed at the exit to the arcade. "...next morning..." he mumbled, shaking his head.

Doug's shoulders slumped, and he began moving toward the exit. "Yes, sir."

Scott escorted Doug to the parking lot and into his car. He had a close space, it being so early in the morning. "I need something to eat. McDonald's, or Burger King?" Scott asked after they were belted in and he'd started the car.

Doug struggled for a moment with even the simple decision, locked in a loop of second-guessing. "Burger King," he finally managed. "And um, what about the car I took, Mr. Summers? Is someone else going to get it?"

"I'll get it later. There aren't many people interested in leaving the mansion now. They're mostly hiding." /Like he'd let Doug drive himself back...right now, he'd likely turn around and keep driving./ Scott headed toward the fast food restaurant. Time to start Doug /thinking/. "So, if you didn't spread it around, who did?"

"I don't _know_, Mr. Summers," Doug said. His hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white and standing out starkly. "I don't even understand how anyone could have figured out it was _there_."

/Unless they read your mind./ Scott's lips tightened, body tensing. "I do. Doug, when I asked you to stop watching Ms. Braddock, did you?"

Doug's mouth immediately clamped shut, and he began to shake slightly, as if fighting with himself. ~Can't talk about it to anyone, can't talk about it to anyone, can't talk about it to anyone...~

Scott looked over at Doug, yelled "shit!" and yanked the car over to the side of the road, brakes squealing. "...fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..." he kept repeating quietly over and over again, examining the boy.

Doug jumped at the unexpected profanity from Scott and turned to him, part of himself willing Mr. Summers to understand what was going on by the visible war in his expression. He didn't understand why he had such a powerful aversion to saying anything about Ms. Braddock.

After about half-a-minute, realizing that Doug can't talk about it, and that's what's causing him the pain, Scott changed tactics. "Well, that's one way to answer the question, Doug," he laughed, a release of tension. "It's okay. So, do you like the Croissan'wich or the French toast sticks?" He started driving again, pulling them into the restaurant and going toward the drive-thru. "They've also got this new sourdough sandwich..."

Doug finally managed to unclench his jaws and glanced gratefully at Scott. "French toast sticks. And hashbrowns please," he added quietly and politely.

"Coffee, tea, juice?" Scott rolled the window down and began to place the order.

"Sprite? I'm one of those crazy 'soda in the morning' types," Doug mumbled.

"No caffeine?" Scott doubled the sticks order and getting two of the Sourdough sandwiches himself. As much as he disliked it, he ordered some coffee for himself. The tea water was always coffee-flavored at this place.

Doug shook his head. "No caffeine. It makes me a little jumpy. Not to mention does weird things to one's singing voice. I save that for when I can't sleep and need to stay awake. Like the medlab." Doug leaned his head against the headrest and sighed.

Scott handed the food over to Doug as he paid, and then drove off. Instead of going back to the mansion, he pulled over into an empty parking lot and parked. Taking a sandwich, he began again, jumping ahead this time. "So, who is your main concern once we get back to the mansion?"

Doug nibbled distractedly at his food, half-afraid that he would puke it right back up from all the stress and fear and confusion running through him. Hunching his shoulders forward defensively, he replied, "You mean besides people wanting to kill me?" He sounded fairly serious. ~For values of 'people' equal to 'Logan', anyway,~ was the unspoken thought.

"I'm not sure of everything that went on. I know that there was a love potion, I know that you were the center of it. I left before I was aware of who was ... whammied. So, I need to know who you think is gunning for you." One sandwich down, and half the coffee. He opened the second sandwich. "Eat. You'll need your strength."

Doug ate mechanically, not really tasting anything. "Well, let's see. My roommate, who saw his girlfriend try to stick her tongue down my throat. Maybe Ms. Blaire, because her roommate got hit with it." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Maybe Marie. I know how she feels about being used. _Definitely_ Logan," he whispered. "I don't think strength or stamina or any of that is going to help me with him."

"Quickness might," Scott nodded toward the food. "Don't worry about Logan. I'll see that he talks to Marie before coming after you. And as for Marie...I do know that Pete's talked to Amanda already, and Marie has talked to the Professor. If you tell her the truth, she'll believe you. Besides, you'll be with Cain all day, learning a lot about pipes. Now, I need to make a call. Eat." Scott got out of the car and dialed back to the mansion. He was not going to be taking any chances.

Doug, for his part, made it through the rest of his breakfast while Scott was talking intently on the phone. He slurped the last of his soda and neatly placed all of his trash in the to-go bag as Scott got back behind the wheel.

"Okay," he downed the rest of his coffee and grimaced, then shoved the empty container in the bag as well. "We'll be going to see the Professor when we get back. While you're in with him, I'll make the other arrangements." He started the car, put it in gear, but stopped, sighing. /The least *you* can do, Summers, is look the kid in the eye when you say this./ Berating himself so, Scott turned to look at Doug. "I'm sorry I got you into this, Doug. It was stupid of me. Reckless and absolutely irresponsible. But rest assured, it /will/ be dealt with." He reached out and rested a hand on Doug's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

Doug clung greedily to Scott's hand, grateful for the contact and support. "I don't...I don't blame you," he managed to get out.

"You don't have to. I blame myself, Doug. And with good reason. Now, stop pitying yourself, and pity me." He smiled, that boyish grin, and releasing Doug, put his hand back on the gearshift and drove off.