a/n: men who yearn even after they've been married for years, are men who EARN
scott summers wrote the book on yearning and no one can change my mind
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~Two months later~
"You're not supposed to be out and about. Hank has you on bed rest."
"I'm past my due date, uncomfortable as hell and need to get this kid outta me. She dropped and the pressure is unbearable."
"Death certificate came in today," Scott muttered and gestured to Charles' desk. "And the last of the students left this morning. School's officially shut down."
"Feels wrong... seeing his desk empty. Seeing the halls so quiet." I groaned, easing myself into Charles' old chair, one hand bracing my lower back, the other resting protectively over my belly. "You don't sleep anymore."
"And you don't paint. I always liked watching you paint."
"I can't paint when it feels like everything's falling apart," I admitted, rubbing small circles over the swell of my stomach. "Every brushstroke feels... empty. Like it's mocking me. Like I'm trying to create beauty when all I see is loss."
He was quiet for a long moment, then crouched in front of me, careful, steady, the way he always was when the world threatened to split me open. His hands came to rest gently on my knees.
"I've been thinking a lot these past two months," I continued and he raised an eyebrow.
"About what?"
"Do you... do you think it's time for the two of us to hang up the suits? To live a life other than being X-Men?"
Scott's brows knit behind the visor, the question hitting him like a blow he didn't expect. He let out a long breath, shaking his head slightly.
"You mean... walk away?" he asked, his voice low, not angry, just heavy.
"I mean raise these kids without the world trying to tear us apart every other week," I whispered, clutching my belly as a sharp kick reminded me of the little storm brewing inside. "Give them something normal, Scott. Something safe. Or as close as we can get... Fix up the cabin and just go."
Scott's jaw worked, tense as ever, but he didn't immediately push back. He just stayed crouched there, his thumbs brushing lightly against my knees like he was grounding himself.
"You think I don't want that?" he asked finally, his voice quiet, almost hoarse. "Every time I look at Alex, every time I feel her kick... yeah, I think about it. About disappearing. Fixing the cabin, fishing at dawn, teaching them how to ride bikes instead of how to duck gunfire."
