Betsy and Damon (Jan 15)

[om_psylocke]

Betsy returns the following week to check up on Damon. She encourages him to accept help and also clues Damon in to how his powers work.



Betsy didn't bother to call ahead on her second visit. She showed up at Damon's doorstep at the end of the following week. She was coming from her scheduled hours at the school, swinging through Salem Center before she headed back to New York for the night. She'd lost track of time that afternoon, and somewhere between taking advantage of the training facilities, meeting with a couple students, and poking through her own impending schoolwork she'd pulled hair up and lost a pencil in the artful twist. She hadn't bothered to check her appearance before heading out. She wasn't exactly worried about impressing Damon.

She waited patiently for him to come to the door. His shields were still crap, she could feel that he was home.

Damon wasn't surprised to see her when he opened the door, leaning against the frame in jeans that barely clung to his hipbones and nothing else. He had a glass of bourbon in one hand this time, a testament to how well he was handling things, but pushed the door open to invite her inside. "Has someone asked you to babysit me?"

Her eyes slid over him, briefly taking in the sight on display. "Strangely no. Do you need a sitter?"

"I don't know..." he smirked slightly. "I guess that would depend what kind of sitter we're talking about. Are you into role-play? I've always wondered how that hot older babysitter kink works."

"I'm not into child play," Betsy said dryly. "Have any nice alcohol to share?"

"How do you feel about bourbon?" Damon asked, turning toward the kitchen. "The correct answer is 'yes please.'"

"Sounds good." She followed him in toward the kitchen.

"You're agreeable," Damon commented, despite the fact that he'd just told her that it was her only option.

"I support good behavior."

"And do you remember the last time we got drunk together?" he teased, pouring her a glass. "Not that I mind. We had fun..."

"You'd have to be very well behaved for that kind of reward system," Betsy said wryly.

He shot her a mildly not amused look. "I'm not a child."

"I would hope not," Betsy responded. She reminded herself she wasn't here to flirt with Damon or reminisce about good (or violent) times. Which brought up the question of why she was here, and she wasn't sure she had a great answer. She was concerned. There was telepathy and psionic damage involved. As very few people had experience in the subject she felt like she should try and help. It wasn't anything else... She took a swallow of alcohol.

Damon raised an eyebrow at her. "Feel better, bossy?"

"Working on it. How about you? How are you this week?"

"What do you think?" he asked darkly into his glass, taking another sip. "My shields are fucked. I'm hungry all the fucking time...and I can't do anything about it."

"No one feeds you anymore?" Betsy asked. "I thought you had at least one friend on call."

"Eames is great, but hardly reliable," he pointed out. "Besides, he's got his own life, and it's drifting more and more toward New York. Sage would, but I really, really hate relying on her. Lydia wouldn't dare. Alice isn't an actual," he waved his hand, "entity, and that just about rounds out my teeny tiny circle of friends." It was delivered dry, not begging for a pity party, but he knew just how much he'd fucked himself.

But he still wasn't feeding off strangers anymore. "Would you consider working with the professor again?" Betsy asked quietly.

He narrowed a look at her. "I'm not sure he would want to work with me. I dropped out of his school, after all."

"As long as you aren't using your powers to harm people, I don't see why he wouldn't work with you. As long as you're willing to give it a shot. There aren't many known telepaths with his skill-set." She hesitated before adding. "And there's only so much I can do. I think you'll heal more cleanly with someone who knows more."

"And if I said I'd rather it was you?" Damon asked quietly, looking up at her.

"Then we'll both be learning as we go. You don't need to be alone with him, if that worries you."

"Please? Old baldy? He's a pushover," Damon rolled his eyes, but inwardly, he felt a little sick. Yes, it worried him. Yes, all telepaths might make him a little nervous now, and that included Betsy, and Sage. But, for some reason, he trusted Betsy, which scared him, but not enough to ignore her help.

"How about we meet with him together, at least once. This way he can give me some guidance tailored to what you need. He'll probably see things that I don't yet. Then if you want, you and I can work together."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just put my shields back together, and we'll be golden, hmm?"

"Not that simple," she said. "That's like putting a bandage on without cleaning out the glass. You'll heal over, but it'll still be there. I can feed you again, help you get some control back, but if you want to be sound in the long-term you need to do more than feed and lock everything out."

Damon tilted his head forward and to the side in a 'come again?' expression. "What the hell does feeding have to do with my control?"

She blinked at that. "Your shields." Had he really not worked with the professor long enough to figure that out, or had the professor intentionally not mentioned the correlation because Damon was out of control before leaving? Great, hopefully she wasn't opening this up for a disaster. "What you take from people, it's not just an endorphin fix. As far as I can tell you consume psionic energy, for no better way of phrasing it. That's why I did what I did last week. You don't have a natural defense, but you seem to convert what you take. That's also why Pietro put me on psychic-checkup duty whenever you send your regular meal back to the brownstones."

He stared at her for a moment, eyes wide and honest, dumbfounded. "So you're saying that the reason he got in my head is because I haven't been taking in psionic energy in the past year."

"The reason he got in so easily is because you haven't been taking in psionic energy," she confirmed. "Please don't take this as motivation to go pick up locals."

Damon's lips twitched, like he was possibly thinking about it, but then reached up and rubbed his brow. "So what am I supposed to do, huh, Betsy? Take my 'one year sober' keychain and suck it up?"

"Find consenting adults and work with us." She leaned back against his counter. "The school might be for young mutants, but that doesn't leave the rest of us to fend for ourselves. We have resources to learn more about your powers. So let's use them. We'll figure something out."

He sighed and took another hard swallow of the bourbon. "Fine. But if you don't figure something out, I'm going to go back to seducing and erasing the locals."

"Fair if we've put the work in and come up dry. Don't think it will come to that." She nodded her head toward the couch. "I can feed you now if you want." He'd agreed to basic terms, that was a good step for one day. She'd been worried she might have to drag him to the school if she wanted second opinions.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Are you rewarding me?"

She actually laughed at that. "No, but I'm driving home to the city tonight, and at some point I'd like to grab dinner. Can't stay too long."

He eyed her for a moment, then tilted his head and asked, "How do you feel about spinach and mushroom risotto?"

She considered and then shrugged. "Sure. You cook?"

"Please," he gave her a look and headed toward the fridge, abandoning the bourbon in the process. "I'm Italian."

She smiled. "You're full of surprises."

"If I remember right, I think I fed your brother one night right after he showed up and was floundering about, trying to figure out how to fix his own meals," Damon pointed out.

"Oh my god," Betsy said, unsurprised but face palming a little. "Academic life hasn't really given Brian the opportunity to acquaint himself with a stove. He can boil water."

"What about you?" he smirked over his shoulder as he started setting out ingredients and getting the pans warmed up. "Can you boil water?"

"I'm surprisingly capable of boiling water. I've also fended for myself since I started traveling."

"When you started your modeling career?" he asked, glancing over as he started chopping vegetables.

She nodded. "Yes. Once I got more full time locations I started to cook for myself. I didn't feel like living off of diet coke and tiny snacks."

"And here I thought all models ate were salads," he smirked.

"The portion control can be frightening. I tried not to let other people's expectations get to me. You build a thick skin when you know what people think about you."

He smiled down at the knife. "Another thing we have in common."

Betsy considered before asking, "How young were you when you manifested?"

"Sixteen," he answered. Though in all honestly, he'd only been barely that at the time.

"I almost envy the late bloomers," she said. "But I guess it's more about the type of power."

"Are you calling me a late bloomer?" he smirked.

"Precisely. But I can't imagine you at awkward thirteen trying to figure out your skillset."

Damon didn't look up from where he'd started to saute the mushrooms. Sometimes, Betsy said all the right things. Sometimes she read his mind even when she wasn't actively doing it. "Things would have been a lot different if I had."

"We may never have met you," she said, considering it.

"I shudder to think," he drawled. They likely would have been better off.

"As tempting as it may seem, I hope we never get a kid that can alter the past. I've seen too many terrible movies to even wish it." Too much domino effect. You couldn't pick and choose what changed you. Also, imagine what a nightmare it would be dealing with that student.

"Dangerous powers, right?" Damon smirked as he poured in the wine, then leaned back against the counter to let it simmer as he regarded her. "Which powers do you decide are too dangerous? Think there'll ever be a mutant prison? Where do you think they stuck Hale?" Where would they one day try to stick Damon?

"I haven't asked yet," Betsy said quietly. "Haven't decided if I want to know yet."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you want her to kill him?"

"I don't want Lydia to have that on her conscience," Betsy said. "If she needed... I would have done it for her. I'm not sure we're going to find a redeemable man inside Peter Hale. Any man willing to torture indiscriminately and use his family as weapons I don't have faith in. It may have been easier in that moment to make a decision. But no, I don't want Lydia to ever have to do that."

He reached over and poured two glasses of wine. "Yeah. I don't think I do, either."

Betsy gave him a small smile. "We can all bond over being overprotective of her."

"Oh, is that a bonding thing now?" he smirked, handing her the wine.

"Yes, before you know it Scott and you will start braiding each other's hair."

"I draw the line at pillow fights." Setting the glass down, he finally got some plates down and started serving everything up, the mushrooms poured across the mushrooms with a glaze of sauce across the top. He passed her the plate, then took a seat beside her at the bar.

Betsy settled in, pleasantly surprised by the turn the evening had taken. The last time an attractive, shirtless man had made her dinner... well, that was another life time ago. She could appreciate a nice meal and the atmosphere that went with it. "Thank you, Damon."

"Yeah well," Damon rolled his eyes a little. "You're helping me."

"Still appreciated." She carefully tucked herself into the meal, savoring the flavors. It was nice eating before the end of a long day or while not on the run between locations.

He was quiet after that, letting them both enjoy the risotto in relative peace. When he finished ahead of her, he turned to lean back against the bar with his wine, looking out the studio windows at the night sky already dotting with stars. "When do you want me to see Xavier?"

She glanced over at him. Sooner was always better than later. "This week? Or first thing next week if you're busy."

"I'll swing by Friday," he decided then. Better to get it over with.

"I'll come up, and I'll let him know." She hesitated, resisting the urge to reach and touch his hand in reassurance, reaching for her wine instead.

Damon caught her hesitation and set his wine aside, instead grabbing the empty plates to carry to the sink. "Careful, I'm going to start to feel special," he smirked, falling back into easier habits.

"You're very special, Damon," she said simply, sarcasm understated.

"And you're a gem, Betsy," Damon returned, tossing a look at her over his shoulder as he cleaned up their feast.