Title: Just a Little Patience... Gone
Author: Shaz (aerciura@...
Series: RR #38 (post Phantom Pain and Fault Lines)
Codes: Scott, Candy
Rating: PG (some language)
Summary: Meeting Candy per her request in a cafe, Scott gets to confront
his best friend's issues, and some of his own.
Author Notes: Candy needed a fair part before anything happened to her....
Archiving: RRindex, Muses' Fool
The frown she was getting was bordering on infamous. Tapping on the side of
her cappuccino cup, Candace Southern sighed at the impassive red lenses
across from her and waved away the waitress approaching the table.
The waitress almost seemed grateful.
"So, talk to me before I get really brave and demand you to show me how
narrowed your eyes are at me."
Scott Summers growled at the usually prissy blonde and shook his head. His
day had been nasty enough, what with the death/near death of Logan and
Rogue's apparent new love of a dark, empty and locked room. Hmm, maybe he
should be a bit happier to not be there right now... "You made me meet you
at a cafe, Candy, not the mansion. Clearly, something's eating you. Care
She nearly laughed at his response. If he were any more tense his head
might explode. "Christ, Summers, maybe we should have met at a bar. I'm
wondering about Warren."
About to respond shortly, his attention was diverted by the live musician on
the little stage belting out Guns 'n' Roses' "Patience."
Oh, just wonderful timing. Slinking lowering in his chair, glancing at the
door, Scott nearly bolted for freedom.
Damn. No escape on the horizon. His frown deepened as he leaned back in
the chair. Leave it to a rich little thing to hit a fresh weak spot without
trying. "You want him back... again?"
"Eh," she snorted and sipped at her cafe latte. Her relationship with
Warren was immensely hard to explain. Fun, but hard to explain, even to his
best friend. "'Again' is such a messy term. I'm back, French men bore me,
and I got used to the wings... but I've heard things."
"Like, say, about a red headed houseguest?"
Candy nodded, enjoying the relative solitude of the tucked away table. "For
a start. She's like you guys, and from what else I hear, not entirely
Behind the ruby quartz, his stare darkened. His own fault in Jean Grey's
reactions were blessedly clear to him, a wart of guilt to keep him ugly in
his own eyes. But then again, his anger over the disruption she created was
unignorable. "Warren took her in like a foundling, yeah, how quaint. You
have NO idea how much has changed, do you?"
"Oh please. Warren apologised on the phone for turning down a dinner offer
last night. The last time he apologised, it was a snowy day in hell and I
was being driven to the hospital for a bad reaction to sashimi. Something
big is up. Who is she?"
"Just... a woman," he lied. Yeah, right, Summers, tell yourself that enough
and one day it'll sink in. "She was brought to us, and since life is
hardly," he paused, letting emphasis sink in, "'norm,' we knew there'd be
Candy arched a well manicured eyebrow. "Tsunami?"
He sighed and slumped in the chair. Oh, for the memory of a few months ago
to be his current reality. "God damned tsunami. Think they're together?"
"Sex?" She pursed a lip and recalled the phone call she had made to the
penthouse. Warren had been closed-mouthed, edgy, even tired sounding. That
wasn't him, or the personality she fostered when she was around. Hell, what
woman would want anything but the smiling, arrogant version around? "I
doubt it. If that wasn't frustration-- and maybe I should blame you for it
too-- I'll sell my Farragamo collection."
His stare snapped up from his half-hearted study of the coffee swirling in
his cup. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, great, so that IS it. Jesus. So the girl on the phone was right,
you're stag again too, and you want the runaway. How bad do you want this
new one? Enough to be miserable for a good long while?"
"Oh, just stop now." She scoffed and pushed her chair away. Standing up
and putting out her hand for the shaking, she pulled it back when the custom
tailored Oakleys regarded her open offering like a coiled snake. Leave it
to Scott Summers to make her feel even more alien than him and his damned
secret mutant school. Pulling a ten from her purse and dropping it to the
table with a distasteful glare aimed his way, she mustered the last of
courtesy. "Been real fun, Summers, but I think I'll talk to a tree over
you. When you get your head fixed on straight and want some good girl
advice, dig up my cell number at the mansion's rolodex."
Watching the independently wealthy-- //how is it you get surrounded by so
much of the good life and can't just plunge in, idiot?//-- heiress make her
way out the cafe door with an irritated step, he bit his lip, glanced at the
lipstick stained coffee cup on the table and mentally kicked himself.
Lame, real lame. Blame someone who just had questions. Who wanted to get
another side of the story. Someone who had no actual role in the mess at
home. Hey why not ostracise the rest of New York while you're at it?
"Candy!" Jumping up and moving past tables of curious onlookers, Scott
skidded to a stop on the sidewalk as he caught her flagging down a taxi.
"Candy, look, I'm sorry, that was rude."
Her gaze remained fixed on the street, her fingers still hailing her escape
from the pointless meeting. "Yes, yes, it was."
He held out his own hands helplessly. "Look, what was your actual reason
for calling me here?... I mean, you and I never really got along, but that's
"No," she corrected, adjusting her jacket to sit higher on her shoulders.
Her look wasn't unfriendly, but in her eyes was just the slightest hint of
anger. Well restrained, old anger. "You never liked me. I'm a Normal, and
your best friend is too good for one of those. Heh. Listen to yourself,
Summers, you're a wreck. You've got an ex now back at that damn school, and
you're telling me to be careful about some redhead that Warren's got a claim
to? Oh, piss off. I came to you because he's your friend and would clear
this up for me, but after this charade, I'll just talk to him myself."
Scott backed up and mentally kicked himself again. Clearing his throat,
trying for some semblance of pride-- whatever was left anymore-- he took a
deep breath and let it spill out from him like a flood. "It's not my fault.
One day she-- the new woman-- just shows up at our door under the watchful
eye of some... rough ass, and within two seconds, I swear to God, the world
turns upside down. Then the redhead-- her name is Jean, by the way-- locks
eyes with me for a damned split second and it's like--"
She sighed. "Serendipity?"
He nodded. "Yeah. We share a look and the next thing I know, there's one
engagement shot to shit, Marie's playing in the water with Big an' Growly
and we freak out an already screwed up woman even more. Jean's hiding at
Warren's cause he's the lesser dick. He reached out to her when I wanted
to, so yeah, maybe I should give up now. Fuck! They weren't lying and had
every right to be doing what they damned well please. I was the ass."
"To her, yes. To my best friend? Definitely. What about you though?
Shouldn't you be mad about Warren cheating?"
"No," she shrugged, looking sidelong at the surrendered slump of Scott's
shoulders. "Not really." A laugh escaped her lips as she dropped her hand,
letting it dangle by her thigh. "But he does know I don't go for redheads."
Scott opened his mouth, let the response sink in fully, then promptly closed
his mouth. Forcing away visual images of what really could transpire-- yeah,
just what he needed, envy over an open-minded girlfriend-- he shuffled his
feet and tried to ignore the knot of tension making the coffee in his
stomach unsettle. "So, who'd you call?"
"At the mansion. To find out what was going on, and to leave that message
"Oh," Candace shrugged. "Jubilee answered the phone. She told me
everything in detail, some of it I'd like to forget, even if I could
understand it. Then she asked me if I wanted to get in on a bet."
"She didn't really, did she?"
"Oh yes she did. I said no, and that Wall Street was a safer way to invest
money. She then called you guys ' love-sickened goofballs.'"
The shuffle of his feet said it all. He wanted to agree, but couldn't let
himself verbalise that sentiment.
"So, anyways," Candy continued, "I'll just talk to Warren myself. He's
supposed to be in Brooklyn later tonight doing routine inventory on his
warehouses, so I'll just be at the right place at the right time."
"Were you serious, what you said?"
She arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smile curling up her cheek. "About not
liking redheads? Yeah. Brunette, longer the better. God, I love long hair
Scott openly stammered. "That's not what I meant, but thanks for the great
She laughed. Typical male. "Then what?"
"Oh," she shrugged, "yeah, you're a wreck, Summers. Go take a breather from
the chaos and figure out what you need. Women are women, and if we see
something we want, even if we can't get it, we sure as hell don't forget
"Hmm." Shoving his hands in pants pockets and nodding slowly, he relented
the point. He was just SO tired of all the melodrama. Something had to
give somewhere, and might just be his heart if he wasn't careful. "Maybe
Candy turned to face him fully. "So what are you going do?"
His expression gained a dram of determination. Finally he could close a few
chapters on his recently screwed up life, pick up the pieces of a shattered
fantasy existence. "I'm talking to Rogue one last time, and moving on in my
life, wherever the god damn thing takes me."
"'What makes you such a bitch, Emma?'
'Breeding, darling. Top class breeding.'" -- Jean and Emma, NXM #116