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No amount of warm water seemed able to make Bobby Drake's face look any less hungover this morning. He'd spent the last night partying at some club or another and drinking enough beers that he could tolerate making out with one of the girls before calling a taxi to get him back home. And now it was afternoon the next day, and he was having a sluggish argument with himself over whether the golden stubble on his face had grown enough to be worth shaving. Ultimately, he felt too lazy to bother with it.
Following a quick shower, he made his way down to the kitchen to get himself something to eat. Given the time of day, it was unlikely to be occupied. Most of the X-Men would have already finished lunch after the morning's Danger Room session. Bobby was both surprised and thankful that nobody had bothered to wake him up for it. Perhaps his insistence that he wasn't really back on the team had dissuaded them from being too pushy.
Right now, that's what Bobby loved about this place. Xavier would always offer him a free room, and the Professor was much less involved than his parents. Living in his childhood bedroom had grown increasingly unbearable, as his mother never let slip an opportunity to guilt trip him over taking a semester off when he was only a few classes away from earning his teaching degree. And there was his father, constantly dropping hints that he should be out dating girls instead of spending his time holed up in his room on the internet. Bobby was sure his father would have a heart attack if he knew what sort of chat rooms the young mutant was frequenting.
But here, he was surrounded by friends who were even closer than his family. And while some of them found him annoying, a lot of the younger mutants found him easier to get along with. He'd gone from being the punk kid of the team to the goofy uncle, and it was a role he took to like a duck to water. It was easy to be at Xavier's, to join missions as he pleased, to know he had a place to crash after wasting the day away, and being secure that nobody would ask too many questions about his dating life.
Yep. The mansion was paradise.
***
One other man at the Institute also tended to think of the mansion as paradise. This, of course, was none other than Scott Summers, simultaneously the Wet Blanket of the X-Men and the person who most idealized their home and their mission.
Scott took his job seriously. He took his family seriously, and considered everybody that lived under this roof to be part of that family.
Thus it was that Bobby had really been getting on his nerves lately. He was ducking out of DR sessions (an egregious sin that Scott would never have let fly if not for Xavier’s interference), he was lingering around the house doing not much of anything at all. Scott wasn’t even certain whether or not Bobby had been added back to the chore roster, something that everybody in the house was on. It ruffled Scott’s feathers a bit to know that Jubilee and the Professor even had their part to play in the smooth running of such a large household, but it was one more area Bobby seemed to be slacking off in.
All of this had been weighing heavily on his mind for the last several days. That was why he decided to seek Bobby out. After he’d finished taking a quiet lunch with Jean and Rachel out on the grounds, the last vestiges of nice weather for the fall season, he went to find the young man. Bobby at least wasn’t holed up in his bedroom, making it easy to track him down in the second place he looked: the kitchen.
“I think we’re out of ice cream,” Scott said, leaning against the center island. “Though, if you’re looking for the breakfast of champions, we might have some hair of the dog for you. If you like Canadian beer.”
“I stay away from Wolverine's beer, actually,” Bobby said with a laugh. “I've got plenty for myself anyway.” He turned to face Scott, though he was more focused on the enormous bowl of Froot Loops he'd poured himself. It was a good thing that Jubilee had taken permanent residence in this place and made appropriate changes to the amount of sugar that was in the X-Men pantries. "Does it count as breakfast this late?"
“I was asking myself the same thing, actually,” Scott said, frowning. “You should start joining us for group meals, Bobby. You’re going to have an awfully hard time adjusting to classes again when you finish your year out if you don’t try to keep some semblance of a schedule.”
Bobby shrugged. "I've got at least a month to decide if I'm even doing that next semester," he said dismissively. "Besides, they've got night classes. I haven't gotten out of bed before ten in ages. You should try it sometime, really improves the mood." He stopped eating to let out a loud yawn. "Anyway. How'd things go in the old DR? You got enough room in there for the whole team still?" It had certainly had a few expansions since they were teenagers learning how to control their powers almost a decade ago.
Scott stood up straight, his hands drifting to his hips.
“Bobby, really. With only a semester left, you shouldn’t be putting it off any longer, nor should you be so cavalier about holding a schedule. Maybe your university has night classes, sure, but you won’t be teaching at night. You do still plan to teach, don’t you? Because I can assure you that Charles wouldn’t be too keen on the New Mutants taking their algebra classes at nine p.m.”
As silly as Scott felt this whole ‘gap semester’ was, he supposed he could understand Bobby taking something of a break. But the possibility of Bobby just forever putting off finishing his degree was more than bothersome.
Bobby rolled his eyes. "Of course not. And I don't know, Scotty. You've never taken a step back and second guessed where you were going in life?" He spread his arms out as if to show his surprise. "Like 'Man, this X-Men leader gig is super draining, maybe I should try to be a painter' or whatever?" Actually, now that he said it, he doubted Scott had any idea what that felt like. He always seemed sure of himself and where he was headed.
Scott’s tone softened a little.
“Of course I have, Bobby. Everybody experiences doubts, or even needs to redirect their lives. But doing nothing isn’t redirection, it’s stagnation. If you truly don’t want to teach, then don’t. But you’ve got to put some thought into what’s coming next for you, not just eat cereal at one in the afternoon after going on a bender every night. It’s not getting you anywhere and it certainly isn’t healthy.”
“I don't go on a bender every night,” Bobby protested. "Can we drop this? I don't really feel like discussing the direction of my life right now. We could talk about so many other more interesting things. Like, hey, why don't we go catch a movie? When's the last time you and I hung out, huh?" he suggested, approaching and nudging Scott's rigidly placed elbow with his own. "It'd be fun."
Scott frowned down at Bobby’s elbow, and finally responded by grasping his young friend’s shoulder, trying to get across the seriousness of his words.
“I don’t think we should drop it. It sounds like you don’t really feel like discussing the direction of your life at all, and it’s starting to worry me, Bobby. If you want some help, you’ll find it here, in spades.”
Bobby shoved Scott's hand off his shoulder, frowning with irritation. "You're right, I don't want to discuss that at all. I can handle it myself, Scott, I know what I'm doing. I've been doing this college grind for years without your help, you know," he ranted, pushing an accusing finger in Scott's chest. "Why don't you trust me?"
“Because,” Scott said, gaining a stern edge to his tone. He grabbed Bobby’s wrist, keeping him from accosting him once more. “You haven’t been showing yourself to be very trustworthy or responsible over the last few months. For you to have done well in College until this point and suddenly stop attending, and refuse to participate in the activities expected of a young man your age in this household, something must be wrong. You either need some help or a wake up call.”
Bobby pushed Scott's hand away forcefully. "Back off, Slim! I'm not part of the household, I'm just crashing here for a while until I can figure out my own place. And I'm not a member of the X-Men either, so you can quit being grouchy about me sleeping in and missing D.R. sessions. Not everybody wants to dedicate their whole life to being a superhero," he said harshly. "Just leave me alone until you can learn to mind your own business!"
“No, I don’t think I’ll be learning to do that any time soon!” Scott said, raising his voice more than he had intended. He exhaled sharply, calming his temper. “Do you really think that, just because you’re not active status in the team roster, that means you’re not part of the household? Since when is that how we operate around here, Bobby? Or did you forget that the man whose house you’re crashing at had a larger hand in raising you than your biological father? Or that I’ve been more of a brother to you than your brother back home has since you told them you were a mutant?”
"Of course I haven't forgotten that!" Bobby shouted back. "I'm not stupid, or ungrateful, but I'm not a kid anymore and I don't need anyone to treat me like it! If I wanted advice, you'd be the first person I'd ask. But I don't, so I'm not. So just deal with it!" he said angrily, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall near the exit of the kitchen. He scowled in no particular direction, deeply agitated that Scott had decided to pick a fight with him first thing. This wasn't how he wanted to be spending his day.
“If you didn’t want to have your family in your business, you should have found somewhere else to stay,” Scott said, his jaw working in annoyance. “You might not be a kid anymore, but you’re still my kid brother—or as good as. I’ll be on your case for the rest of your life if I think you need someone on it.”
He angled himself in the kitchen doorway, blocking Bobby’s nearest exit.
Bobby's glower focused on Scott. "Real cool Scott. Though honestly you sound more like my old man than anyone. And trust me, it's not a compliment." He unfolded his arms so he could stretch his arms and let loose some of his pent up energy. "Have you said what you came here to say? Because I'd like to go to my room now, if that's cool with you, bro.”
“Actually, it’s not cool with me. Trust me, I’m not looking for compliments from you, and I don’t really care right now how much you’re enjoying my company. I want to get some answers from you before we’re done here. Even if you don’t know them yourself.”
He grasped Bobby’s arm just above the elbow and pulled him toward the breakfast nook. He was determined to sit down and talk this out if it killed them both.
Bobby pulled away from Scott, glaring at him. "Don't touch me. I'm not running off. I'd rather get this all out in one go than listen to you nag me for the next month." The prospect of having Scott "on his case" was enough to make Bobby consider going back to his parents’ place. At least he expected them to be pains in his backside. Scott hadn't really been much of a problem at all since Bobby had graduated from the X-Men and headed to college.
“Sit down, then,” Scott said, gesturing to the seat opposite the one he had just taken.
"My ears work just fine standing, thanks," Bobby replied shortly. He didn't feel like doing anything Scott requested. Or, perhaps more appropriately, ordered. Scott had a habit of giving orders even when he wasn't actively being the team leader.
“I expect we’re going to be here for a while,” Scott said, trying to keep hold of his waning patience. “Please sit, Bobby. I, for one, don’t feel like being on my feet in the kitchen for an hour.”
At this, Bobby laughed. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to put up with this for an hour. I've got things to do. Which may include packing my things, to be honest," Bobby said, looking out the door and considering making a run for it now that Scott wasn't blocking it off. "Can't you just bottom line this so I can get on with my day?"
“If you want me to bottom line it, this is going to be more of a set of orders than a conversation,” Scott warned him. “I’m happy enough to do either, but I think you’ll be less upset with a conversation.”
Scott was really starting to get irritated with Bobby’s attitude. For all his assertions that he was no longer a kid, he was certainly acting like one. Scott had a feeling that if he was going to get Bobby out of this funk, there was going to be a certain amount of drama involved.
"Awesome, it'd just make my day to ignore every single one of them," Bobby said defiantly. "You're so stuck in Team Captain mode that you can't figure out the rest of the world doesn't revolve around you and what you want. But I shouldn't be surprised. You're the only one who chose to stick around here and play X-Man while the rest of us went off and experienced the real world," Bobby raved viciously. "Get this through your head, Scotty. You aren't the boss of me and until you figure that out, I'm not interested in any kind of conversation with you!"
Now close to losing his own temper (something Scott tried his hardest never to do, but nonetheless ended up doing around Bobby), he stood up and crowded into Bobby’s space.
“I tried to get you to talk things out, and to offer you help more calmly,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’m not telling you what to do right now in a team leader capacity, I’m telling you to stop screwing around and wasting your life, Bobby Drake! You’re better than this. You might like to play at being class clown and you might even feel like a screw up more often than you would ever be entitled to if you were in your right mind, but I know you. I know you better than that and you’ve got a good mind that I don’t want to see go to waste.”
"Yeah, well, it's my mind to waste if I feel like it," Bobby declared, matching Scott's steps and getting in his face. "And quit trying to bully me into submission. Just because I don't do D.R. sessions everyday doesn't mean I can't take you out if I felt like it." He grit his teeth at Scott. "I'm gonna go to my room and cool off. Don't follow me."
“Oh, no you aren’t,” Scott said, grabbing Bobby’s arm once more and making sure to keep a tight grasp on it this time. “You are acting like a—a brat!” he finally snapped. “If you don’t stop yelling at me and storming around, I’m going to do something about your attitude.”
"Oh you crushed my feelings with that one," Bobby hissed. With a thought he turned his entire arm freezing cold, way past the point where it would be comfortable to touch. "What are you going to do, give me detention? Don't be ridiculous."
Scott gritted his teeth in discomfort, but held onto Bobby nonetheless. His free arm raised level with his shoulder, and he brought his hand cracking down solidly on Bobby’s behind.
“I had something a little more familial in mind,” he said obviously. It had been a long time, but Scott had plenty of memories of Xavier having to deal this kind of discipline to their youngest team member.
Bobby was shocked enough to return his arm back to normal. He turned his head to look behind him, somewhat stupidly. His buttocks had definitely just been smacked, and the flash of heat was enough to confirm it. "What the hell is your problem, man? I'm twenty-five! And you have no right to do that!"
“You have no right to return my concern for your wellbeing with scorn and shouting,” Scott fired back. “You have no right to treat the mansion like your own personal frat house. And you certainly have no right to throw away the education that thousands of other young men in your situation would give anything to have. But hey, if you won’t behave like a grownup of your own volition, I’m more than glad to help you on the way.”
Bobby gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "You are not going to spank me, Scotty," he ground out, feeling more angry than he had in a very long time. Or at least, a more fierce, untamed anger. Usually when he got this mad it was his controlling parents with their lack of understanding and refusal to accept he was his own man. But against Scott, he felt no compulsion to restrain his temper. "Let me go!"
“I don’t think so,” Scott replied to this demand in an even, determined tone. He steered Bobby out of the kitchen and down the hallway, intending to find someplace a little more private to apply some discipline to his dearest young friend. “I’ve had it with your attitude and temper, I’ve had it with your unwillingness to see reason. If you don’t want us to think of you as ungrateful, then you’d better stop acting so spoiled.”
"I am not spoiled!" Bobby shouted, not caring who heard him. Honestly, he would prefer if someone were to hear them so he could have some backup against Scott's nonsense. "Fine, I'm not exactly being my best self right now, but that doesn't matter. It's my life. And if you really think treating me like a child is going to fix my problems with you, your head needs to be screwed on straight."
“I’d be happy to talk about my head once you and I are done talking about your plans in life, and taking care of that chip on your shoulder.”
Scott was implacable. He had given Bobby a lot of chances to talk this mess out mano a mano, to ask for help on his own terms, or even to just stop shouting at him. He’d been driven to make the decision to spank him and once that decision was made, it wasn’t going to change.
He found his way into the empty classroom closest to the kitchen, the same one he had taught in before moving his classes to a larger room in the lower levels a few months ago. Knowing it wasn’t going to be used anytime today, he felt no worry in locking the door behind them.
Bobby planted his feet on the floor and made himself heavier. "That's enough Scott. This isn't funny. I'm not going to let you do this and I know you're too smart to think otherwise." He didn't know where Scott thought he had the right to discipline him in this way, but he wasn't going to allow it.
“It’s not a case of whether I’m going to do it or not,” Scott said, stopping after a moment of fruitless tugging and simply grabbing the nearest chair out from under a student desk. “It’s really a case of how long you’re going to keep being hard-headed, and how long the spanking is going to last before you start talking to me.”
Scott took a seat in the slightly too-short chair and tugged at Bobby’s wrists, trying to counterbalance him enough to get him over his lap in one swift beat.
If Bobby had been of sound mind, he might have used his powers to turn the tide in this battle of wills. Or at least kept his stance to keep Scott from dragging him over. Instead, he struggled to get out of his grip, losing his balance and unwittingly making it easier for Scott to use leverage and get him over his knees. Huffing angrily, he continued to try and escape it now that he was there.
With a clear physical upper hand, Scott was feeling much less riled up. The hard part was getting Bobby here at all, although he assumed the talking part of this experience would likely be difficult as well. But the actual spanking? That, he knew he could do. It was just one of the unpleasant duties which Scott would never shirk in the interests of helping the people he loved, when it was necessary.
He was methodical in disrobing Bobby, baring his bottom just enough to see what he was doing.
Bobby was kicking furiously now that he realized that Scott was undoing his clothes. "Don't you dare!" he barked, reaching back to pull the garments back where they belonged. "Let me up, Scott!" he demanded.
Scott snagged the proffered hand, pinning it to Bobby’s back. With no further arguments offered, he started laying down swats in a left-right-left pattern at the roundest part of Bobby’s bottom. He was intent on showing Bobby that he really did mean business before he wasted any more breath.
Bobby stopped kicking as the flashes of heat and sharp stinging flared up. Really, it was not so unbearable in terms of physical pain, but the indignity of it was dreadful. Bobby loudly protested this treatment with grunts and growls, but refused to say anything. He had no interest in talking to Scott right then. He just wanted to imagine punching him in the jaw as soon as opportunity presented itself.
Scott continued this stolid application of his hand for a few more minutes with little variation, but Bobby’s skin wasn’t pinking up as fast as he had anticipated. He supposed that, while his attitude may not have shown it, Bobby really had grown up a bit in the last ten years or so.
He paused, shifting Bobby a little closer and bending him further over his knee, and started aiming mostly at his upper thighs.
This change in approach caused Bobby to whimper. The spanking had been annoyingly painful before but now it was really hurting and he hated it. Without consciously doing so, he started to squirm, trying to avoid Scott's punishing hand but never quite managing to do so. Exclamations of pain managed to sneak past his lips as well, and Bobby was furious with himself for looking so weak and vulnerable.
Scott was starting to feel more satisfied with Bobby’s demeanor.
“Are you about ready to talk to me?” he asked, his tone as solid as his hand.
"No, I don't want to talk to you," Bobby hissed. Speaking out a sentence caused his reaction to the next few swats to be unmuffled. He whined loudly and kicked his legs once again. "Why would I want to?" he spat out when he could catch his breath.
“I thought you’d be interested in putting this to rest and having a helpful conversation about where you’re going to go from here,” Scott said, his words quite unhurried, in stark contrast to the sharp and fast spanks he was landing all over Bobby’s rear end. “But if you’d rather have the spanking, I can surely keep doing that, instead.”
"I don't want either," Bobby declared, frustrated with how obvious this should have been and how much Scott didn't seem to care. To him, talking to Scott because of the spanking was letting him win, and he wasn't ready to do that. "You don't have any respect for me, why would I respect you? You think you can just spank me and I'll quit being angry with you?" he asked with noticeable strain.
“No, Bobby, I’m pretty sure that this spanking is going to make you fairly angry and maybe even hurt your feelings. But I’m not doing it because I disrespect you,” Scott said sincerely, pausing with his hand in the air. “Actually, I’m doing it because I respect you a lot. I think you’re a bright kid with a good future ahead of you, if you actually apply yourself. That’s why it makes me so frustrated to see you throwing it away. That’s why I tried to talk to you and give you some advice. And, that’s why I’m going to make sure you hear that advice whether you’re all that receptive to it right this second or not.”
Bobby didn't quite know how to react to Scott's response. He wanted to snap back, but he found it difficult to come up with a counterargument when every thought was broken up with a hard smack on his behind. He could feel the lasting heat in his skin and muscle tissue, the kind that lingered between spanks and would stay after it was over. Again, he found himself whining helplessly.
"One off semester isn't throwing it all away," Bobby said. "I always planned to go back. I'm just burnt out and I don't want to overwork myself and have to take classes over again," he explained. He didn't feel that he owed Scott that information, but he was indignant at Scott's accusation of him throwing away his future and felt compelled to offer some defense.
Scott resumed the spanking with renewed vigor, Bobby’s cooperation convincing him that he was on the right track.
“Then what in the world are you doing, talking about taking off another semester, or just not teaching at all? What do you think you’re doing going drinking every other night and doing next to nothing else?” he asked sternly. “I think you’re not being completely honest with yourself, Bobby. Sure, I believe well enough that you started this exercise to cure some burnout and regroup, but if that was the case, then why haven’t you been taking care of yourself enough to do that?”
"I am taking care of myself just fine!" Bobby argued, his voice cracking a bit thanks to the harder punishment. "I'm young, I'm allowed to have fun and live my life a little! I'm allowed to slack off and procrastinate once in a while! It's not a crime to not know what I want to do with my life just because I've almost graduated. I don't know what I want to do!" he admitted furiously. "And I'm tired of everyone belittling me for it," he said, fighting back a swell of tears.
“Bobby,” Scott said with a little frustration. “None of us here want to belittle you for not knowing what to do. Nobody always knows what to do… We just want to help you figure it out. We love you. I love you, you blasted brat.” He knew that tears were forthcoming, so he started smacking Bobby twice in a row on exactly the same spot to help them along. The kid clearly needed a good cry. “Have fun, yes. Live your life. Be young. Just be sure that you’re mixing in some forward motion, too, or none of that will feel all that fun or good for very long. It already sounds like it’s wearing on you.”
Bobby felt that spanking him was quite belittling, but he decided not to voice that opinion. "That's really all you have to say?" he pouted, feeling a new rush of upsetting anger over this whole ordeal. "Was it really worth embarrassing me and causing me pain just to say 'hey, don't screw up completely while you're screwing around?' Because man, I sure could have figured that out by myself," he fired back, feeling anything but grateful for Scott's advice at the moment. It was a lot gentler than his father's all or nothing lectures or his mother's needling, but he still felt insulted by the whole thing. He pouted fiercely and shut his eyes to keep tears from coming down.
“No, the spanking is because you decided to yell at me and run away from your problems instead of facing up to them,” Scott said, returning to sternness once more. “The spanking is for you slacking off and not even making the effort to do a chore or two during the week even though you make as much use of the house as anyone else who lives here. The spanking is for trying to use your powers against me just because you didn’t like what I was saying—you are more than old enough to know not to use your powers to have a temper tantrum at someone, Bobby Drake.”
Honestly, Scott could go on with this laundry list if that was what Bobby needed. He could go on spanking for a while too, his hand was not tired yet. It was tricky to navigate Bobby sometimes: He was so desperate to be treated like a grown man, and yet still seemed to have a lot of necessary growing up left to do.
Bobby squirmed and sobbed through the lecture and the spanking, and he realized he really had brought it upon himself. Scott had given him out after out, chance after chance to deal with these problems he'd been having. He just didn't want to confront them. Not then. But it seemed he didn't have a choice. And soon enough, his sobs had tears to accompany them. "I'm sorry, I'm not thinking straight. I'm really angry about this situation and mad at myself for feeling so directionless," he admitted through cries, hanging his head low. "I'm just scared to grow up. I don't feel ready to be a teacher and I don't know what else to do with my life."
Scott let his hand come to rest, giving his abraded skin some reprieve.
“Want to talk it out with me?” he offered once more, rubbing circles over his lower back.
"I need a minute," Bobby replied softly, pulling his arm up to his face and crying into it. Now that he'd been made to cry, the tears didn't seem to want to stop. And truthfully, it felt good to cry and exert all the pent up sadness and anger he'd been dealing with for months. Bobby couldn't remember the last time he really let himself cry. "But yeah, I guess so."
Despite being the source of the painful throbbing in his rear end, Bobby felt his anger at Scott dissipate. It honestly felt nice to have him rubbing his back and trying to help him out as best as he could.
“Go ahead,” Scott said, carefully tugging Bobby’s clothes back into place. He let him cry himself out for a few minutes, eventually leaning over to the next closest desk and pulling up a second chair right next to his own. He’d be damned if he was gonna let Bobby get away without a good hug, but these chairs really weren’t a great size for two people to be on at once (though apparently they would do alright for some quick discipline).
“You just sit up when you’re ready.”
Bobby managed to laugh for the first time in nearly half an hour. "Do I have to?" he asked, standing up and rubbing his bottom, not particularly caring if he looked silly. Without waiting for Scott to answer, he took his seat and started exhaling and inhaling deeply, calming down from the spanking he'd just received.
Scott wrapped his arm around Bobby’s shoulders and pulled him close, hand rubbing his upper arm absently.
“Yeah, you have to,” he answered jokingly. “I gotta say, this isn’t exactly what I expected to spend my afternoon doing.”
"Oh, boo hoo," Bobby teased, pulling himself in and hugging Scott. It felt good to reconnect with him, to establish the physical affection they had for each other. "You think I expected this? I definitely got the worse end of the deal."
“Not arguing there,” he teased. “I wish you’d just talk to me, you know? We used to talk. Granted, not as much as you and Hank ever did… But I feel like you and I have lost some closeness, Bobby. I don’t much like it. And I didn’t expect it to continue after you’d been home from college for a while.”
Bobby continued to hug Scott for a little longer. When they finally separated, he shrugged. "I'm not that close to anybody, really," he admitted. "My family relationships have been hostile ever since they found out I was a mutant, and I've avoided having any close relationships at school. I'm always afraid if I'm too close with anyone, feelings are going to develop and it's going to end badly," he explained. "I'm used to keeping everyone at arm's length by now."
“And I thought they called me emotionally stunted,” Scott teased gently, nudging him with a shoulder. “I can kind of see why you wouldn’t want to get too close to people in school, not knowing if they might be bigoted. Even your family, really, they’ve never been nice enough to you, in my opinion. But here, too? This is your home, Bobby. Always will be.”
Bobby rubbed his scalp as if dealing with a tension headache. "I know. But between my mutation and realizing that I'm not into girls, I've just kind of gotten into the habit. I'm sorry, Scott, I know you guys will always welcome me. It's just hard to break from everyday routine. Hell, I don't know what my routine is really."
Scott had a moment of surprise, but only a small one. Sure, Bobby had dated girls, had hung out with them, but never all that seriously… and when examined? Mostly just because he was hanging around with Hank, and Hank had very much been into girls.
He responded by just putting his arm around Bobby’s shoulders again and pulling him close.
“You’re right, we will always welcome you. And if it’s a routine you need, you’re talking to the right guy,” he said with a small smile.
Bobby cracked up. "Boy, I sure am. You're the only person lame enough to say that as a point of pride, Scotty." He smiled at him, both in humor and appreciation. He had seen the cogs of Scott's brain working things out in his features, and it seemed that Scott was completely okay with him being gay. Bobby was still trying to get to that point with himself, so it was reassuring and empowering to have Scott having his back.
Smile broke into grin; Scott couldn’t help himself.
“All I can be is myself, so I might as well like it,” he said, shrugging. “Sounds like you could use a little of that attitude right about now. Maybe it’ll rub off on you. The horror! What if he starts shaving regularly? Waking up at 6:30?”
Bobby rolled his eyes and jabbed at Scott's shoulder. "As long as I don't start shooting ice beams from my eye sockets I'll be okay with it." He shook his head. "I guess I might as well get into the routine of being here. I'm a bit past being a guest at this point." And it would help him get to know all the new faces at the institute better if he actually started participating in mansion life, instead of using it as a sanctuary to stall in until he knew his next move.
“You were never a guest, Bobby. More a Prodigal Son figure,” Scott told him, smiling once more. “So, does that mean you’re back on the team? Or are you gonna teach here?”
Bobby considered that for a moment. "Well. I still have a semester to finish before I can teach. But since I still have a few months, I might as well be an X-Man. That's something I know I can do,” he said, beaming with pride for the first time Scott could remember in years.