To Teach -- an X-Men ficlet
It's possible I've posted this before. Then again, it's possible it's not finished. Right now I have insomnia so I'm posting it anyway.
Title: To Teach
Fandom: X-Men
Rating: Psh. G? Mention of Emma's clothing, so make that PG-13.
Summary: After being rounded on by pretty much everyone for his decisions on who goes on what teams and who teaches, Scott finally has a moment to himself -- or so he thinks...
ETA: Wow, Scott kill feedback dead. Would it help if you knew ahead of time this is a convo between him and Bobby?
“So, I guess Emma must not have given me very good references...”
Scott Summers looked up at the voice to see Bobby Drake - his long-time friend and teammate - leaning in his office door, hands in his pockets and the tense expression on his face matching the tight tone of his voice. Scott imagined he looked just as wound; he had a pounding headache... But he had no idea what Bobby was talking about.
“What?” he asked, rubbing what he could of his temples above the arms of his ruby-quartz glasses. It really wasn't doing much to alleviate the pain brought on by over a dozen unhappy superheroes yelling at him, but he was trying it anyway.
“Emma?” Bobby prompted, leaning forward slightly and raising his eyebrows. “You remember Emma, the blonde with the corset fetish? Although lately her sartorial tastes seem to have taken a turn for cut-away cleavage and midriff numbers. Well, letters, really.”
Scott stared at him, trying to figure out why Bobby was talking to him about Emma Frost's clothing.
He really hoped this wasn't going to turn into another round of 'I hate my costume, it's purple pleather and why the hell do I need a coat?', because he'd been over that one with Bobby about a million times already and he hoped that the point that he was not actually the one making the costuming decisions here had been made already. He was halfway tempted to tell Bobby to just wear nothing if it bothered him that much, but he strongly suspected Bobby would. Then again, he'd gotten away with it before...
Bobby sighed, rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and came a little further into the room: all signs that he was getting annoyed.
“I'm sorry, I have this awful headache. You're going to have to elaborate,” Scott tried, wincing slightly at the loudness of his own voice.
“You do remember that Emma was headmistress of the Manchester Academy?”
“Yes,” Scott said, because nodding would be a bad idea at the moment.
“So I'm guessing she didn't exactly give me a glowing recommendation as a teacher, seeing as you didn't give me a teaching position.” He waited a couple of beats, then added, “You do remember that I taught at the Academy, Scott?”
“...Did you want to be a teacher?” Scott asked, bewildered.
“Uh, yeah,” Bobby replied in the sort of voice that implied that not only should Scott have known that, they had in fact discussed the matter at length and Scott had made promises - which he had now broken. It was a tone of voice Scott hated hearing, and he groaned and slowly lowered his head until his forehead rested on the cool surface of his desk.
He felt, more than heard, Bobby perch on the corner of the desk, and then blessed cold plopped on his head. He reached up blindly and moved the snowball to a better spot before propping his head up to look at Bobby.
“What did you want to teach...?”
Bobby's hands waved in the air and then landed on his thigh with a slapping noise Scott normally would barely have noticed.
“Oh, you know - Accounting, maybe? Mathematics? Economics, basic sciences - hell, public speaking. Something, Scott! It's not like I haven't been teaching in some form or another since, oh, we formed X-Factor, really.”
Scott thought quickly.
“Yes, you have - so this semester, give the ones who haven't been a chance to get some experience with it. Next semester, I'll put you on the rotation.”
Bobby regarded him shrewdly for a moment.
“Just come up with that?”
“Yes. That doesn't mean it's not a reasonable plan.”
Bobby snorted and looked away, simultaneously holding out another ball of snow, which Scott gratefully accepted.
“Look, Bobby - I'm sorry. I forgot. Give it a semester, okay? Besides, I need you in the field right now. We have new people and I need a decent number of people who are really familiar with my strategies and tactics, people who I know know what they're doing while our new people get their feet under them.”
“Wow. I'd almost be flattered if I didn't think you were keeping me in the field because of that stupid 'Twelve' thing.” Bobby crossed his arms again, and Scott sighed.
“I admit there are advantages to having one of the most powerful mutants in the world as an active field agent - ”
“Then why aren't you in the field, Cyke? Because you're one, too. And did it ever occur to you maybe part of why I wanted to be out of the field was because of all that...stuff?” He waved a hand to indicate all the things that had recently happened with the Twelve. “It's a lot safer to experiment with my powers in a controlled situation here than out in the field, and you know that, that's why we trained before donning costumes the first time, Scott!”
...Yeah, given where it ends, it's probably not finished...
Title: To Teach
Fandom: X-Men
Rating: Psh. G? Mention of Emma's clothing, so make that PG-13.
Summary: After being rounded on by pretty much everyone for his decisions on who goes on what teams and who teaches, Scott finally has a moment to himself -- or so he thinks...
ETA: Wow, Scott kill feedback dead. Would it help if you knew ahead of time this is a convo between him and Bobby?
“So, I guess Emma must not have given me very good references...”
Scott Summers looked up at the voice to see Bobby Drake - his long-time friend and teammate - leaning in his office door, hands in his pockets and the tense expression on his face matching the tight tone of his voice. Scott imagined he looked just as wound; he had a pounding headache... But he had no idea what Bobby was talking about.
“What?” he asked, rubbing what he could of his temples above the arms of his ruby-quartz glasses. It really wasn't doing much to alleviate the pain brought on by over a dozen unhappy superheroes yelling at him, but he was trying it anyway.
“Emma?” Bobby prompted, leaning forward slightly and raising his eyebrows. “You remember Emma, the blonde with the corset fetish? Although lately her sartorial tastes seem to have taken a turn for cut-away cleavage and midriff numbers. Well, letters, really.”
Scott stared at him, trying to figure out why Bobby was talking to him about Emma Frost's clothing.
He really hoped this wasn't going to turn into another round of 'I hate my costume, it's purple pleather and why the hell do I need a coat?', because he'd been over that one with Bobby about a million times already and he hoped that the point that he was not actually the one making the costuming decisions here had been made already. He was halfway tempted to tell Bobby to just wear nothing if it bothered him that much, but he strongly suspected Bobby would. Then again, he'd gotten away with it before...
Bobby sighed, rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and came a little further into the room: all signs that he was getting annoyed.
“I'm sorry, I have this awful headache. You're going to have to elaborate,” Scott tried, wincing slightly at the loudness of his own voice.
“You do remember that Emma was headmistress of the Manchester Academy?”
“Yes,” Scott said, because nodding would be a bad idea at the moment.
“So I'm guessing she didn't exactly give me a glowing recommendation as a teacher, seeing as you didn't give me a teaching position.” He waited a couple of beats, then added, “You do remember that I taught at the Academy, Scott?”
“...Did you want to be a teacher?” Scott asked, bewildered.
“Uh, yeah,” Bobby replied in the sort of voice that implied that not only should Scott have known that, they had in fact discussed the matter at length and Scott had made promises - which he had now broken. It was a tone of voice Scott hated hearing, and he groaned and slowly lowered his head until his forehead rested on the cool surface of his desk.
He felt, more than heard, Bobby perch on the corner of the desk, and then blessed cold plopped on his head. He reached up blindly and moved the snowball to a better spot before propping his head up to look at Bobby.
“What did you want to teach...?”
Bobby's hands waved in the air and then landed on his thigh with a slapping noise Scott normally would barely have noticed.
“Oh, you know - Accounting, maybe? Mathematics? Economics, basic sciences - hell, public speaking. Something, Scott! It's not like I haven't been teaching in some form or another since, oh, we formed X-Factor, really.”
Scott thought quickly.
“Yes, you have - so this semester, give the ones who haven't been a chance to get some experience with it. Next semester, I'll put you on the rotation.”
Bobby regarded him shrewdly for a moment.
“Just come up with that?”
“Yes. That doesn't mean it's not a reasonable plan.”
Bobby snorted and looked away, simultaneously holding out another ball of snow, which Scott gratefully accepted.
“Look, Bobby - I'm sorry. I forgot. Give it a semester, okay? Besides, I need you in the field right now. We have new people and I need a decent number of people who are really familiar with my strategies and tactics, people who I know know what they're doing while our new people get their feet under them.”
“Wow. I'd almost be flattered if I didn't think you were keeping me in the field because of that stupid 'Twelve' thing.” Bobby crossed his arms again, and Scott sighed.
“I admit there are advantages to having one of the most powerful mutants in the world as an active field agent - ”
“Then why aren't you in the field, Cyke? Because you're one, too. And did it ever occur to you maybe part of why I wanted to be out of the field was because of all that...stuff?” He waved a hand to indicate all the things that had recently happened with the Twelve. “It's a lot safer to experiment with my powers in a controlled situation here than out in the field, and you know that, that's why we trained before donning costumes the first time, Scott!”
...Yeah, given where it ends, it's probably not finished...