Scott and Alex, Backdated to March 6

[om_cyclops]

The Brothers Summers take on the danger gym and have a little accident.

 Scott was not entirely convinced that this new super-gym, whatever the fuck it was, was really as sturdy as the headmasters had said. His powers weren't just destructive, they were fuck-tons of TNT being steered by a 17 year-old quasi-felon. If the room survived the day, he'd be impressed. 


He'd have preferred to be testing the whole thing out alone, but they'd been pretty clear about the partners thing, and Scott didn't know yet where the cameras were. So he glanced over his shoulder at his partner-in-crime. "Ready?"


"Fuck no," Alex replied at once. And, really, though he was feeling better about his powers since his talk with Noriko, he still wasn't convinced just ... busting loose was really a good idea. What if he exploded so hard the entire mansion collapsed? But he'd been repeatedly assured that wasn't likely, as long as he exercised some basic control, so he'd grudgingly agreed to accompany Scott into the only recently revealed sub-basement.


Anyway. It was pretty cool to hang out with his brother. Even doing something he didn't necessarily like.


"So kickstart this motherfucker into gear before I wuss out!"


"Begin sequence," Scott commanded the room. He really wasn't sure about this either. It had seemed like a good idea when he'd come up with it - he could watch out for Alex that way and everything - but the closer he got to unleashing his optic death ray, the less certain he was.


And the first bad guy that peeked out his ugly face got an upper torso full of boiling plasma--and so did the corner building he was using as cover. "Uh ... oops?" Alex offered. He then poured some more super-heated matter into the next dummy hostile that appeared. "Gotta learn to tone the heat down ..."


"Told the old guys this thing wouldn't hold up," Scott muttered, flipping the switch on his visor and blasting a dummy's head off. And denting the wall right behind him. Crap. He dialed the power back a little.


"At this point, we're pretty much killing them, right?" Alex asked, but there was none of the usual teenage bloodlust in the question. If anything, the younger Summers sounded scared. The next blast he tried to throw out was more controlled than the first, but it still sort of exploded the training model it hit. "Do you think I'll ever be able to ... just subdue 'em?"


He didn't like to think about how uncomfortable he was with the alternative, what he might have to do--if he ever found himself in a Dupree kind of situation--to save his own life. If he could do it. If he could live with it, afterward. Scott was different, though. It wasn't just that his power was more force than heat; it was as easy for him, obviously, to break a guy in half with his powers. But his older brother was just better at this kind of thing. Scott made control look easy. Natural, even.


"Depends if they build you a cheat like mine. Or if you learn to do it yourself." Scott admitted. He'd managed to scale back to just damaging the dummies - which was still damage, if far less massive - but it owed more to the visor having multiple settings than it did to anything he'd personally done. He turned a little, and, "Fuck! Alex, look left!"


"Wha--" was as much as he managed to get out before a succession of soft rubber projectiles hit his ribs. Alex gave a pained yelp, the plasma he'd been gathering in his hands scoring a pair of snaking black scorch-lines into the walls as his fell hard to the side. Grimacing, he clutched his ribs, and blasted the offending training model to pieces. "Shit, shit, shit!" he swore, as he rose just a little painfully to his feet.


Scott triggered his visor again, blasting another robot-thing. "You okay?"


Though he was holding onto his side hard with one hand, Alex managed a smile that wasn't completely indistinguishable from a grimace. "Yes," he managed between gritted teeth. "Better than I'd be if those had been real bullets, anyhow." Another gout of supercharged ions sprung from his free hand, this time exploding just in front of one of the opposing dummies, blowing it back off its points of anchorage onto its back, but still leaving it a bit singed.


"Not funny." He blew back another dummy, careful not to so much as glance in his younger brother's direction as he did so. Much pain as Alex was in now, it'd be nothing compared to the pain he'd be in if Scott managed to accidentally blow a hole in him.


This was exactly why Scott had bothered to come here, though; because Alex had a point. However weird this thing was, no matter how much damage the two of them did to it -- it was still better than being shot for real.


"And since when are you the arbiter of funny?" Alex demanded, still holding his side, but not as cautiously as before. "I don't think you'd know funny if it came up and bit you on the dick." He managed to duck beneath another spray of non-lethal ammo, and responded with some marginally-less-than-lethal plasma.


Because he couldn't resist being a bratty little brother, he added, "Speaking of, how's your giiiiiiiiirl-friend?"


"If she was biting me in the dick, that'd be a question you no longer had to ask," Scott pointed out. Another optic blast, another broken piece of machinery. Man, he and Alex were going to owe Xavier their salaries forever at this rate. "But she's fine. Have you met her?" 


Dial back the power, calculate the angle, blast. Dented machinery this time, rather than broken. He guessed that was progress.


Alex let loose with a wave of super-agitated particles that was so dispersed that, by the time it reached its intended target, it knocked it over almost gently, only singing the dummy's body armor and clothing a little. That ... might be a little too gentle. God fucking dammit, where was the sweet spot, already?


"Not yet," he said to Scott, grinning. "Seen her around, though. Real looker. Tall as Shaq, too--can't imagine what she sees in your short, skinny ass, but I guess love is blind? You should introduce us," Alex concluded sagely.


"She's nowhere near as tall as Lord Braddock of Snobbery. And I'm her same height," Scott pointed out. There was a flat plate of metal that had caught his attention, and when another dummy popped up to his left, he figured it was worth a shot; hell, he'd already fucked up Xavier and Lensherr's machine. 


He let loose an optic blast, hitting the flat plate at an angle which...bounced the beam right into the dummy. Awesome. Not that Scott hadn't known that's what the angle would do, he just wasn't sure he'd had the force calculation right (and he hadn't, exactly, but it was close).


"But she asked to meet you, too. So sure, why not. Nothing says 'cool boyfriend' like 'this is the tow-head that spends all day insulting me'."


Huh. That bouncing the beam off of stuff thing was pretty cool, Alex decided. Not that he'd say as much out loud--that kind of thing wasn't really how he and his brother operated. Or ... seemed to operate? It was all kind of new. Warm fuzzies didn't really seem like they'd be a ... thing that happened very often with them.


Anyway. "I do other things," he protested. "Like eat and sleep and stuff. And who says shit like towheaded? What are you, eighty?"


A new target sprung up, and as Alex turned to release another plasma blast, another burst of fire caused him to start violently and throw of his aim. Now, the supercharged particles were streaming toward Scott, too fast for him to call out a warning. Maybe too fast for him to dodge, even if he did notice in time ...


And just like that, everything he'd been terrified of since the day his powers manifested, the day he'd first laid eyes on this older version of the brother he'd lost all those years ago, was staring him in the face. No. Oh Jesus fuck no.


Scott turned as something came at him in his peripheral vision, and oh fuck. Fuck. In milliseconds, he automatically calculated his likelihood of getting out of the way fast enough. Which was zero. He caught of Alex's horrified face, and Scott wondered how weird it was that what was likely his last thought was that he hoped this didn’t fuck up the kid too bad...


And then he was hit and...it didn't hurt at all. But his shirt was fucking on fire, so Scott quickly ripped it off, who the fuck cared about scars when their fucking shirt was on fire, and threw it on the ground to begin stomping on it. "End simulation!"


And Alex was racing over immediately, his expression jumping from panic to relief to the brink of tears and back again. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit," he stuttered, stamping his own foot down on the burning shirt. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to get Dr. MacTaggert? Or Josh? Or anybody? I should get somebody! Shit! You're not hurt, are you? I didn't burn you, did I? Shitshitshit!"


The kid was hysterical, and Scott grabbed his shoulders. "Alex. I'm okay. Take a deep breath."


He did as he was told, inhaling shakily, but heavily, and scrubbing the back of his arm over his eyes. "You sure you're okay?" he near-demanded. "I mean ... I hit you. With plasma. Christ, Scott, your shirt is on fire!"


"Didn't even hurt," Scott promised. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He totally understood, he'd have a freaking panic attack of he accidentally blasted Alex, but...he was fine. No need for anyone to hyperventilate. "You owe me a t-shirt, though."


"Dick," Alex replied, but it was mostly reflexive. "And sure, I'll get you as many lame t-shirts as you want. Least I can do." His eyes were still red-rimmed, and he was still studying Scott closely, looking for burns or blisters or even a slight reddening of his skin to indicate where he'd been hit. But all he found was a whole lot of nothing.


"Scott," he ventured, "just ... don't move for a sec ..." With that, Alex's hand lit up again, though he held as far from his brother as he could. Slowly, gingerly, he started bringing his burning palm forward. "Let me know when you start to feel it."


Alex still didn't look too good, but at least he wasn't losing his shit. Scott would take that as a mediocre sign, if nothing else. He watched as his younger brother's glowing hand got closer to his bare chest. "Shouldn't it be hot or something?"


The blonder Summers just looked at him. Then he suddenly shifted his posture, moving his plasma-infused hand away from Scott, and toward the half-charred remains of his shirt on the floor. It burst into flames again long before he ever touched it, which he began stamping out again, letting the energy dissipate at last as he did so. "It is hot. Hot as all fucking hell. You don't feel it, Scott?"


Scott shook his head. "That's...hmm...."


He'd always done okay in biology, but he wasn't Tam or someone. What would be keeping him from feeling Alex's whole creating-lava-plasma-shit deal? It wasn't even the same as his mutation. At least...not quite. "Your mutation...they mention anything about a psionic field or something?"


"Not ... exactly, no," said Alex. "Doctor MacTaggert said that I was protected from the heat I generate, but she didn't really get into the details of how." Probably figured he wouldn't really understand it, or care. That second one definitely wasn't true, even if the first might have been.

A look of determination crossed his face. "Zap me."


"No." Scott's voice was serious and his tone left no room for argument. He was not going to blast his little brother. “Absolutely not."


"Come on!" Alex insisted. "Just a little one. I've already been shot with rubber bullets; what could another couple of bruises possibly matter? This is something we should know, if it is, you know, a thing."


"The last person I shot ended up with a gaping hole where his torso used to be. I'm not shooting you. Period."


Blunt, yes, but Alex needed to get the message. Scott wasn't going to blast him. Ever. He'd rather gouge out his own eyes (something he hadn't considered with any seriousness since after the murdered-a-guy nightmares had stopped). No.


Obviously on the verge of arguing further, Alex opened his mouth, blinked, and then quickly closed it again. He looked as his brother as if seeing him for the first time. "Wait," he said slowly, "what?"


Shit. Scott figured it was futile, but still asked, "What what?"


Maybe for the fourth time in his life he'd get lucky. But it was unlikely.


"You killed somebody?" Alex asked incredulously. "With your powers?"


Scott's jaw clenched. "It was an accident."


Scowling fiercely, Alex lunged forward and wrapped his arms around his brother's middle, hugging him tight. "You fucking idiot," he mumbled. "Of course it was an accident. The same kind of accident I've been scared to death I'll have ever since I demolished the gym at my old school."


Scott was stunned, but wrapped his arms around his younger brother. 'Of course.' He said that of course it had been an accident. "Thanks."


"Don't forget it," Alex warned, patting Scott on the back before finally pulling away and glaring up at him. "If you do, I'll incinerate every piece of clothing you own, and you'll have to walk around school butt-naked. Neither of us wants that."


"Thank you for those nightmares," Scott said sarcastically. He looked down at the floor where the remains of his shirt were, and pondered them for a moment.


"Hit me again." Maybe he should clarify, since Alex was a smart ass. "With the plasma."


Giving his brother a look that was only somewhat cockeyed, the blond teen responded slowly, "O-kaaaay."  Gathering the supercharged matter along the lengths of his arms again, he held onto it for a brief, uncertain moment before releasing it in the general direction of Scott's chest.  Didn't really want to torch his pants, after all.  And jarring his visor loose would have been an even worse idea.  Seemed like a happy in-between, to him.


It still didn't hurt.  Hell, Scott barely even felt much force from it.  Weird as hell, but good to know.


"Looks like I'm immune to it."


"That's weird," Alex agreed.  He looked up into Scott's visor.  "You sure you don't want to try giving me a zap?  I'm hitting you with enough plasma to boil iron, and it doesn't seem to be doing much."


"No."  Scott's tone booked no argument. 


"Fine," Alex rolled his eyes dramatically.  "No zapping.  Can we get some hot chocolate, then?  I feel like I deserve it."


Scott was pretty sure the topic shift was going to give him whiplash.


"Uh," he gestured at himself, "kinda missing a shirt."


"Ugh," Alex returned impatiently.  "Want to borrow mine, then?  I'm just talking about going to the kitchen for some warm liquid refreshment, which I am owed for this traumatic afternoon.  Not like we're going to stroll through the heart of Salem Centre with you half in the buff.  Nobody would thank me for that!"  He looked thoughtful a moment, then, "Well, maybe Lil.  But nobody else.  Ever.  In the history of time."


"Not arguing with you," Scott pointed out, voice dry.  He held out a hand.  "Give me your shirt, and I'll go with you."


Like hell was he wandering through the house half-naked.  He hadn't explained the scars and stuff to Lil; he really had no intention of explaining it to anyone else.  Fuck that.
“Fine, fine, you big baby," Alex returned, peeling off his shirt and holding it out to his older brother.  "Now let's go treat ourselves!  We've earned it, right?" 


Scott pulled the shirt on, ever careful of his eyes and the visor.  When he'd made sure they weren't open and the device wasn't jostled, he smirked.  "Yeah.  Must be hard to stand there getting pelted with expensive Nerfs all day."


Alex sent a glare his brother's way that was almost totally void of actual ill-will.  "Ass," he said.  "Just remember I can burn the shirt and pants off you any time I feel like it.”

"You'd be the one forced to see it,"  Scott pointed out mildly.

"In the short term, yeah," Alex agreed.  "But you'd still have to make your way back to your room in you birthday suit.  Which I guess Lil might like, but the rest of us would definitely ... you know, not.  Much.  'Cause you're all skinny and gross, I mean."  He punctuated his observation with a broad grin.

The older Summers snorted.  "I should be offended, but I'm glad to hear you're not completely fucking creepy."

"You say, as if you're completely fucking surprised," Alex returned.  "C'mon!  Let's go find us some tasty liquid refreshment.  Now that you're all properly covered."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Lead the way, doofus.  You're buying."

Comments

[om_ghost]

Oh interesting!! (I don't have much detailed Marvel knowledge obvs.) Aw brothers.

[om_cyclops]

They're so dysfunctional; it's fabulous.

And yeah, it's part of that weird Marvel interpretation of physics (which resembles magic, mostly, rather than science, but we'll roll with it!). They're both immune to the others power, even though Scott was too chicken to test it.

[om_ghost]

That's so awesome. I have a <3-on for fictional brothers anyway.

[om_aurora]

OMFG they are so hilarious and awkward. Affection through insults, it's a Summers Family Tradition.

ALL THE LOVE FOR THESE BOYS.

Heh. Tow-head. Scott, you are eighty.