sally blevins (ontheskids) wrote in age_of_miracles, @ 2008-06-06 20:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | cyclops, skids |
Log: Cyclops and Skids
Who: Sally Blevins and Scott Summers
Where: The balcony on the third floor of the school
When: June 6, 2008; evening
What: Sally and Scott talk. And then they make out.
Scott wasn't the type to open up and have warm fuzzy moments. He just ... he wasn't. Scott was a private person. He was a leader, when he wasn't going a little crazy. He had moments with Ororo, but she was like his sister, and Charles, who was like his father. But as far as friends? Other than going psychotic on Logan, he didn't tell people what the problem was.
So why the hell he was going to tell Sally what was up, he had no idea.
Maybe it was because she wasn't friends with everybody else. She wasn't part of the X-Men, wasn't very close to too many people in the school. She was separate and different, not in the way that Scott was, but maybe he needed that. Someone who was isolated, too.
Scott met Sally on the balcony of the third floor. Not because it was dramatic placement or anything, but because the fresh air was nice ... and his laundry was in the machine. May as well stay close by. But getting Scott to open up was kind of like pulling teeth, so after hello, he was just ... quiet for a while. And then:
"I'm overstressed. I was starting to lose it, so Ororo kicked me out of the office. It's not really all that dramatic."
...Well, okay, that's a bit of a lie. A little one. But he's still talking, right?
Sally definitely didn’t get along with everyone else. If anything, she more frequently than not butted heads with them. Maybe she just wasn’t a people person; who knew. Although she liked to think she was friendly, the atmosphere at the school brought out the exact qualities that people at the school… tended not to like. Oops.
She was perched up on the railing of the balcony --- it was sort of hard to be afraid of heights when she knew her forcefield could cushion her fall. Of course, considering the huge klutz she was, she should have been a little bit more concerned about tumbling off the edge. That and, if anything happened to make her forcefield pop up automatically, she’d go slipping over the side in a second. Another oops there.
“I told you you work too hard. I know things are stressful without Professor Xavier around, but you take on too much. I think you think you can do everything yourself. And you can’t.” Sally gave Scott a little eye roll. “You’re actually fun when you let loose and stop being all serious, you know? You should try that more often.”
Scott didn't bother arguing with her. He'd had the 'you work too much' argument with Charles, and Ororo, and Logan, and Hank, who'd prescribed pills he hadn't bothered to take. It wasn't worth it. No one ever believed him when he said he really could handle it, especially when it was blatantly obvious that ... hello, no you can't, Scott, that's why you're on vacation.
So instead, he snorted, leaning on his hands on the balcony. "You mean when I'm drunk?"
“Well, you let loose when you’re drunk. So, yeah, when you’re drunk. If it didn’t take a few shots of tequila to get you to relax, then I’d say without the booze.” And, somehow, even though Scott tended to act like he had a giant stick up his butt, Sally didn’t even seem to mind that. Though she definitely preferred relaxed Scott to uptight Scott and was just convinced that she could get him to chill out a little more and then he’d be perfect.
“And, no, I’m not going to suggest we go out drinking and singing karaoke again. Mostly because if I did that to you ever again, you’d probably never take me anywhere.” Sally gave him a bright smile, then added, “The break’ll be good for you. Take some time off. Rest Relax. Do something for fun.”
Scott gave her a look that was largely lost on just about anyone. It was hard to really get the look from a guy in glasses, honestly. He was uptight, and now that he was getting more sleep and had nothing to do, he was kind of jittery. Not that he'd let on.
"I don't do anything for fun," he admitted. "I can only spend so many hours in the garage, and there is no way I'm letting you drag me to another bar. I don't mind drinking, but I apparently get the urge to jump on a table and start serenading the bartender when I get drunk. I'd rather avoid that in the future." And Scott was the kind of person who couldn't just have a beer. He started drinking and didn't stop.
“We don’t have to go out drinking. We can... I don’t know. There are other things we can do for fun, I’m sure.” Honestly, the things Sally did for fun included reading, and writing, and shopping. None of which she even knew if Scott had any interest in. She was willing to bet that, at the very least, he wouldn’t be into the shopping.
But she’d had one hell of a (crappy) week. And, while she was happy to see that Scott was okay and that lifted her mood a bit, Sally definitely needed to do something to get her mind off of… stuff.
Maybe Scott did work too much. He didn't have ... hobbies. He worked and played in the garage and got all greasy, but he didn't have hobbies. He didn't go out bowling on Wednesdays or slide down the banisters or crochet or anything. Scott might get involved in a school-wide thing, but on his own?
Without his work, he was flailing. So he just kind of stared at her. He didn't have much to say. ---All right, that, and he was looking at her mouth. It was a little distracting and---
Stop it.
"...Sally, the funnest thing I have on my mind right now is throwing my laundry in the dryer."
“That’s your problem, now isn’t it? Come on,” she said with a little swing of her legs. “If you could do anything right now --- not work --- what would it be? There must be something you like other than work and fixing your car. Maybe you just haven’t found it yet. Maybe you just need a little push?” She made the mistake of reaching out to give his shoulder a little shove, which, given her lack of balance normally, made her wobble a bit on the ledge and end up grabbing his shirt sleeve to steady herself. “I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes. Not pretty.”
Out of reflex, Scott grabbed her arm. He held on, like he expected her to go tumbling off the side if he didn't, and it ends up looking like he grabbed her and just ... forgot to let go. "At least it's short," he quipped -- a bad attempt at a joke.
There are things he does for fun other than work and cars, but that's none of Sally's business. It was probably best for her if it wasn't. His relationship with Emma hadn't exactly been subtle or secret, and Scott ... Scott rebounds hard. It wasn't something Sally should want to be involved in. He nearly drove off a cliff, after all. ---Not because of Emma, but still. Crazy man, right?
"Please don't kill yourself while I'm around. You'll add to my guilt complex and apparent depression."
If only Scott knew about the crap Sally had been through when she was a kid. And then, later, when she’d met Rusty, who’d gone against everything she believed in, joined the Coalition and later had been killed by it. Maybe she and Scott had more in common than either of them knew.
“Not gonna kill myself. Promise,” she mumbled, though she was more concerned that he had his hand on her arm than anything. It didn’t make her a slut did it, that she’d gone and been… frankly… gross with John Zander --- of all people, considering she wanted to knock him through a wall --- and now was thinking very inappropriate thoughts about Scott.
Sally wasn't not much more of a slut than Scott was, if she was at all. Better John Zander than Emma Frost, right? Something like that.
"Good," Scott muttered, reaching up with he free hand without really thinking about it. Touching her cheek. His hands are rough from working with mechanics, from holding his pen too hard, from fighting so much. It wasn't as if he came up here meaning to get too-close-for-comfort with Sally, but there was a part of him that just ... couldn't help it. It was in his nature, and it was a side most people never had the chance to see. Thank God. "I like you better alive."
It was debatable whether Sally would have agreed. She wasn’t a fan of Emma, simply because she was jealous that Emma had had Scott. But… John Zander. Disgusting. Just disgusting.
Not that she was thinking about that, and her eyes went a little wide when he touched her cheek, not sure if she should lean into it, or blink, or even breathe, worried that if she did any of those things, Scott’s would blink himself and take a step back. “I sort of like you alive too. So you probably don’t want to end up toppling over the edge of the balcony with me when I inevitably manage to trip over the edge.”
Scott seemed to wake up a bit, blinking behind his glasses. It was awkward for a moment, and then he nudged Sally to come down off the balcony, his hand dropping. Just in case. "Maybe you shouldn't be sitting on it, then."
Sally bit her lip. Dammit. Next time she wasn’t going to say a word. Like there would be a next time. “I can cushion my fall. You can’t,” she said cheekily, trying to cover up her disappointment that he’d dropped his hand. “I’m pretty sure I’d survive, even if I fell from all the way up here.” And just to prove that point, she leaned back a little on the railing --- a little too far back. But, as klutzy as she was, at least she wasn’t afraid of heights.
"Don't." Scott actually surprised himself; she'd live if she fell, of course she would, but for some reason, leaning back like that? It made him incredibly nervous, and he tugged her back -- maybe a little too hard. "You're making me nervous." It was just natural protective instinct, right? Right.
“I’m not going to really fall.” Even if that was a sort of empty promise since there were no guarantees on that. And, if anything, the tug forward threw her off balance again and she grabbed his shoulders for balance. Which was entirely too nice of a position for her for comfort.
Scott might just be paranoid. Losing her balance like that? It wasn't helping. But it also meant that now they're in this position that's ... slightly awkward, and Scott's attempt to make it a bit less awkward was to bring up a hand again, brushing her hair back. Since it was messed up from rocking back and forth on the banister like that.
...Clearly. Actually, that kind of made it worse, especially when he decided to say, "You might. I'd rather have you up here."
Scott might have had something to say, but Sally was struck speechless, unable to form a coherent sentence with his hand in her hair and with him talking like that. She was going to keel over and die --- of happiness --- in all of about a second.
Managing to swallow, Sally got out, “I sort of like it up here too.” Hell, yes, did she like it up here. Hello, Scott Summers.
Scott wasn't much of a talker, anyway; he went quiet, just ... sort of staring at her. Which was probably incredibly rude, but she was close, her hair was against his fingers. Blond, he knew that, but it looked red to him. Hell, everything looked red to him.
He'd been staring at her mouth without her knowing it since they'd gotten up there, and now he doesn't have a good enough excuse to pull back again. Still, he had some sense of conscience even when he leaned down, like he felt almost as if he was taking advantage of her but not bad enough to pull back. As a result, he ended up kissing the side of her mouth instead.
If it had been anyone else, she would have found the whole kiss to the side of the mouth thing lame. If it had been anyone else, cheesy lines like ‘I like you better up here’ definitely wouldn’t have worked either. But this was Scott, and if Sally was a sucker for anything or anyone it was Scott. At least she was to preoccupied with the touch of his mouth to bother worrying that she was a little bit like an overeager puppy dog around him.
Instinctively, she drew in a sharp breath, still not sure that she wasn’t dreaming this whole thing, and then turned her head slightly so she was kissing him firmly on the mouth, it taking a second to maneuver around his quartz glasses. Those were a little awkward. But once she found the head-tilt angle, she was more than good to go.
It was all the encouragement he needed. His hand in her hair tightened reflexively, and when he was sure she wasn't going to knock into his glasses, Scott was kissing her. Like a relief, like he couldn't help it. The hand that wasn't in her hair rested on her hip, as if he needed to make sure she stayed there.
He probably didn't.
He definitely didn’t. Sally was more than happy to stay exactly where she was. Or at least she would have been if she hadn’t leaned back slightly, causing her to wobble again and take a surprised breath, tightening her grip on his shoulders.
“Leave it to me to ruin a really perfect moment by being a klutz,” she said with a soft, breathless laugh. Because, of course, to her this was like totally-the-most-amazing-thing-ever, even if Scott was just rebounding.
Scott couldn't help it. He laughed, though it was into her shoulder like he could stifle it. He shouldn't have been laughing, it wasn't her fault she was a klutz, but it was kind of cute. And it made him pull her closer so she couldn't fall flat on her face, if he was holding her up.
"Perfect doesn't exist," he said, still snickering. God, he hadn't laughed in a while, had he? How depressing. "It---" Scott was cut off when his watch beeped; he took one hand off of her to bring his wrist up to look -- and then promptly ignored it. It was just his laundry, and it could wait, he decided, pulling back to kiss her again.
Sally couldn’t help but smile when he started laughing --- she could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d seen Scott really laugh. And she swore to god she could have just glowed that she’d been the cause of it. Even if he was laughing at the way she couldn’t even manage to stay perched on a railing.
“There’s got to be a few perfect things out th---” Although she was cut off by Scott’s mouth --- not that she was complaining.
Sally was almost right. Jean had been perfect, and now, she was dead. So ... no perfect things. But good enough was good enough, and this was good enough.