Doug and Scott

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Set early this morning. Since Alex was taking care of Scott last night, Doug decides breakfast can wait until this morning. He waits outside Scott's door for him to wake up, and they wind up having a very calm conversation. Scott even manages to talk about Jean a little bit.



Doug decided he definitely deserved some karmic balance for this. Because waking up earlier than Scott "I Roll Out of Bed With My Khakis Creased Just So" Summers took effort. And Doug was emphatically not a morning person. Not that he necessarily thought Mr. Summers was going to be hopping out of bed at his normal early hour looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, considering the events of the past two days, but it paid to be ready for all eventualities.

And so Doug had made himself get out of bed at 3:30 to make food. If there was one thing he could count on, it was that Mr. Summers had probably not eaten well yesterday. Or the day before. And if he didn't catch Mr. Summers in the morning, it was highly unlikely that he'd find him and manage to convince him to eat. It was quite possible that Mr. Summers had Secret Ninja Powers that enabled him to avoid people when he didn't want to be found. But then, Doug rather thought that his thought processes might be a little skewed by lack of sleep. He shook his head wryly.

Padding up outside Mr. Summers' door, he set the tray of food off to one side and drew his laptop into his lap. He had no idea how long he'd have to wait, but he figured that Mr. Summers had to come out eventually. And he wanted to be there when it happened. He'd gone to check in on Mr. Summers late the night before, but he'd noticed that Alex had stayed by to take care of his older brother. So he'd decided to put off his self-appointed mission an extra night. Because, while he hadn't been in the mansion when Jean Grey had 'died', he remembered the long, painful conversation he'd had with Mr. Summers after the Red X blood drive. So he was understandably worried about how Mr. Summers was handling things. Or not, as the case may be. Shrugging, Doug opened his laptop and settled in.

Scott opened the door - and stopped, blinking at the sight of Doug sitting there in the hall. "Doug?" he asked a bit hoarsely, rubbing at his jaw and realizing that he quite badly needed to shave. That had slipped his mind yesterday, oddly enough. "What... is there something wrong?"

Looking up from his laptop, Doug stifled his first, second, and third reactions, which were all variations on telling Mr. Summers that quite frankly, he looked like hell. He supposed it went without saying, considering everything that had happened.

"No, sir," he replied quietly and calmly. He indicated the tray beside him. "I, uh, made breakfast for you, sir," he continued in the same quiet calm tone. Unless Mr. Summers brought up the events of the past few days, Doug figured he'd just stay mum about it all. He got the impression that enough people were probably asking Mr. Summers how he felt about everything, or inferring that things must be outstanding and right with the world. Doug just wanted to be there, a quiet bastion of support for one of the teachers he respected above all others.

Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again, trying to ignore the fact that his eyes were stinging. He smiled down at Doug, a bit unsteadily. "Thanks, Doug," he said, stepping back and holding the door open. "You want to come in? Not to worry," he went on, attempting a joking tone, "I haven't been hermitting for long enough to be living in squalor just yet."

Doug wasn't quite sure how to answer the fairly obviously self-mocking joke from Mr. Summers, and settled for simply gathering his belongings and the food tray silently to enter Mr. Summers' room. While he was correct that it wasn't quite living in squalor yet, it also was definitely on the disorganized and slightly messy side, especially when you considered its occupant. "You're welcome, sir," he said, setting the tray down on a table. "I just...figured it was something I could do, you know?"

He was actually hungry. Not very, but there was something approximating an appetite making itself known. Would be the first time since Saturday morning, Scott reflected dimly. "Practical things," he muttered a bit distractedly, realizing that Doug was waiting for a response. "It's hard to remember the practical things at times like this."

"I had a hunch," Doug said with a slight smile. "That would be why I decided I'd try and help take care of some of that for you. I...worry," he said somewhat lamely, not really wanting to touch on certain sensitive topics. He couldn't entirely tell how well Mr. Summers was holding up, and he didn't want to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. He was just here trying to do something nice for Mr. Summers.

Doug was having trouble reading his body language? Yes, he was getting that definite impression. Moving a bit jerkily, Scott came over and sat down, picking up the glass of orange juice and sipping at it. "I... I really do appreciate that, Doug," he said a bit more steadily. "I'm not doing... great, but I think some of the shock's wearing off, at least."

The jerkiness was a bit worrisome. But at least Mr. Summers' voice was steady, and that was a relatively good sign. "Yeah," he said. "I can only imagine how big of a shock it must have been." He sat in a chair opposite Scott, yawning and stretching slightly. "Er. Pardon me," he said around the yawn.

Scott smiled at him a little more strongly. "How early were you up?" He laughed a bit breathlessly. "Yeah. Shock. I don't think there's any other name to put to it." Great, big shock...

"Um. 3:30?" Doug said with a bit of a blush, scuffing his foot against the floor. He had wanted to do this for Mr. Summers, but now that he was on the spot about what exactly he was doing, and why, he felt a little bit bashful. He enjoyed doing nice things for the sake of doing nice things, not for any recognition.

"Careful. You'll have me thinking you miss our runs." Scott stopped, shaking his head. "Didn't mean it like that," he muttered distractedly. "Just a joke, really, Doug... I'm... I'm really glad you came." It was good to know that not all the kids thought his reaction was bizarre, or that he should be overjoyed and nothing else.

Doug chuckled dryly. "Trust me, sir, I don't really miss them. I'm a night owl, through and through. I just...wanted to do something nice." He shrugged and blushed a little more. He was glad that it seemed like the meal and conversation were relaxing Mr. Summers at least a little bit.

"You make a very decent sandwich, Doug," Scott said. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Once or twice," Doug replied. "This one time, I made food for Alison." He grinned in remembrance. "It's kind of hard to have hero-worship for your favorite performing artist ever when you're dangling a sandwich in front of her nose and saying 'heeeeere, world famous rock star, heeeeeeeeere, world famous rock star...'" He chuckled.

Scott realized he was relaxing a little. Huh. "You realize you're leaving me with some pretty bizarre mental images here," he said with an only slightly strained chuckle. "Fishing for Dazzlers..."

The chuckle was a Very Good Sign. Doug supposed the mental capitalization came from his sleep deprivation, but he thought it was funny anyways. The fact that it was only slightly strained was An Even Better Sign. Doug giggled slightly. Now he was just being silly. "Yeah, it was pretty funny at the time," he replied. "You should have seen it. The food deprivation was kind of breaking her brain, so she just sort of drooled and followed mindlessly."

Scott smiled, shaking his head. "Very bizarre mental images. I don't suppose there are pictures? Everyone is always teasing me with pictures..."

Doug shook his head sadly. "Alas, no pictures. It's too bad I don't have photographic proof of every single embarassing thing everyone has done since I've gotten here. I could probably make a mint in blackmail money." He grinned mischievously.

"Never too late to start," Scott pointed out. "Hell, I'd even lend you one of the digital cameras... I'm always at a disadvantage when it comes to pictures. Ororo and J--" He stopped, took a deep breath, then went on. "Ororo and Jean liked to take pictures far too much. They used to claim I was highly photogenic. Really, they just wanted the blackmail material, I'm sure of it..."

And that was probably the best sign of all. It was still probably too early to expect Mr. Summers to not react at all to talking about Ms. Grey, but at least he could say her name and think about her without going completely to pieces. He grinned widely. "It's entirely possible. But I think you sell yourself a bit short as well, sir." He made a note to do his very best to get photographic proof of Mr. Summers in a compromising position of some sort.