What You Can Get

by Cascade

"You know," Nate Guthrie said conversationally to Clare Summers as they waited for the elevator outside the briefing room. "It would almost be worth never going on a mission again just to avoid this 24-hour leave." The mission, in this case, had found the two of them leading a small team against what had turned out to be a poor excuse for a new Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. If they had come any later, when they'd had a chance to do some more recruiting, it might have been a challenge, but as it was, there had been no casualties on either side, and the trip in the jet there had taken longer than it did to round them up. The only injury had been Lieutenant McLaughlin hitting his head on the door of the plane on the way into the hangar. It wasn't the kind of mission you needed 24-hour leave to recover from.

Clare nodded. "You should really talk to your father about that."

"I try. You'd think he'd be excited about new ideas, but he just shuts me down." Nate glanced behind him to make sure his father, waiting for the same elevator, was listening in.

Sam Guthrie rolled his eyes. "You two have got to be the only people in the world who complain about vacation. It's just sick. Ya both need a hobby--" He raised his hands defensively, forestalling any arguments. "--besides paperwork, ah mean." He shook his head at them and then grinned. "Back in my day, when the X-Men walked to and from missions in the snow, uphill both ways, ah might add, a day off would have been beyond our wildest dreams. Some days we didn't even have enough time to change into a new uniform. Yer lucky ya were even conceived."

"So you're saying mom wants grandchildren?" Nate asked with a grin, hoping to deflect the conversation away from his addiction to the office.

Sam looked heavenward. "More than you know." He put his arm over his son's shoulder and whispered conspiratorially. "If ya don't take this day off she's going to blame me for not givin' ya enough time off ta 'find the right girl'. Ah'm countin' on ya, here, son."

Nate laughed, at the same time as he quickly and deeply buried any images held in his mind of his "right girl," as she happened to be telepathic, attached, and standing right beside him.

******************************************

"So," Nate sighed, watching the numbers count down to the lobby. "What are you gonna do with your 24 hours?"

"Go someplace loud and crowded. You in?" Clare gave him a sly look out of the corner of her eye that he carefully avoided.

Instead, he snorted. "Not my thing, thanks." Watching Clare dance with other men in not much clothing was not his idea of a good time. "Thought I might read a book, recover from jet lag, do the paperwork my father doesn't know I have hidden at home..."

"Lieutenant Commander Guthrie, fall in! You were just given an order by your superior officer!" Clare barked at him in her drill sergeant voice.

Nate raised an eyebrow at her. There was something going on here, and he didn't like the evil glint in her eyes. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or run away as soon as the elevator doors opened. "What are you talking about?"

"As your superior officer, I must insist that you accept Commander Guthrie's mission, and come with me-- to find the mother of your future child." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but he had a feeling that she wasn't kidding about the 'coming with her' part.

He looked at her in disbelief. "I don't really feel like going to a club, Clare."

"You would disobey a direct order by a superior officer in order to be boring? I'll have you court martialed!" She elbowed him in the ribs and laughed, and then sobered. "You're coming with me." She said it with a quiet ferocity that left no room for argument, but she wasn't really looking it him—like she was saying it to herself as much as she was him. "We are gonna hook you up and find you some casual sex."

This was going to be a very bad 24 hours.

*******************************************

They'd grabbed some take-out for dinner on the way home from the Tower, and he'd spent the last few hours eating and working his way through his entire list of excuses, and then just trying to get Clare to go back to her place for long enough that he could teleport to Bolivia and hide. She was having none of it, however, and had decided that not only was he not leaving her sight, but she was going to have the final say on his appearance for the night. She'd already sent him to his bathroom to shave and 'fix his hair' with the warning that she knew Bolivia well and could find him with enough time left to still go out tonight. Having, after a number of tries, received the seal of approval on his hair and face, she was now turning to his wardrobe.

"Not colorful enough, not colorful enough, bland, bland, bland..." Clare, the unsuspecting object of his affections, apple of his eye and light of his life, was scouring his closet. His closet hadn't had this serious a working over since his mother had torn through it after his last growth spurt.

"Ack! TOO colorful!" Clare exclaimed, holding the offending item out to him distastefully. "Where did you get this?"

He grinned, looking at the outrageously tacky Hawaiian shirt. "Going away present. Temporal division told me if I was never going to take a vacation, I should at least dress like I had."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust and stuffed it back in the deep recesses of the closet, hopefully never to see the light of day again and went back to her perusal of his clothes. "Not tight enough..."

"Tight?" He wondered if she'd heard his voice crack.

She checked her watch. "We don't even have time to go raid Nick's closet. He dresses well."

Despite his fear, he laughed outright. "I don't think Nick's vibe is the one you want me sending out if you're planning on hooking me up with a girl,Clare."

She turned back to him and laughed, nodding her agreement. "Point." She sighed. "We'll just have to make do."

'Making do' involved the spandex-blend black t-shirt that was actually a part of his uniform, and a pair of jeans he was pretty sure he had grown out of in the 12th grade. He wondered why the pants were still in his closet for Clare to find, but then accepted the possibility that she had telekinetically shrunk them from a pair that actually fit him. That might explain why they weren't 3 inches too short. By any rights, it was the most uncomfortable outfit he'd ever worn.

"Clare, I can barely walk," he complained, and then promptly swallowed his tongue, as it appeared Clare had teleported to her place to change and come back while he had been struggling with his pants. She was in a black pleather dress, short and sleeveless. There was not a whole lot of fabric involved in it.

She waved a hand at him dismissively. "You think I can?"

He actually thought she could. It was tight, but on the other hand with was so indecently short it didn't restrict the motion of her legs at all. Apparently Clare had no plans to sit down tonight. She would break every decency law in the city if she did.

She gave him the once over and sighed. "It'll have to do, I guess, but someone really needs to take you shopping."

"Ha," he barked. That was an experience he definitely was not going to have. And he thought it was about time he nipped this experience in the bud as well.

"Look, Clare, not that this hasn't been an entertaining, if not terrifying, experience, but it's just not my thing. Why don't you go on without me, while I surgically remove myself from these pants, do some reading and catch up on my sleep?"

"No." She folded her arms and looked at him with eyebrows raised, presenting a formidable front of Will That Would Not Be Disobeyed. He felt like he was six again, playing the 'hostage' in the older kid's game of the same name.

This was ridiculous. He was an adult, and she couldn't make him do anything he didn't want to do. He folded his arms right back at her. "No?"

She reached out and grabbed his hand and suddenly they were downtown in front of a brightly lit club.

"So what are you in the mood for?" She raised an eyebrow evilly. "Telepathic? BH?" She paused, the gleam in her eye becoming downright demonic. "Pyrokinetic?"

He paled. She dragged him inside by the wrist.

*********************************************

He had tried to sit down, but his tight jeans had produced the most extraordinary pain and he was pretty sure he'd rather go ten rounds with Apocalypse than ever feel that again. Now he confined himself to leaning up against walls in dark corners and surreptitiously watching the dance floor, and giving himself a headache from blocking out the hundreds of telepaths in the club all doing things they probably shouldn't. Especially Clare-- who looked like Harry was the last thing on her mind as she got positively indecent on the dance floor with some guy in leather pants and a see-through shirt. He didn't like this guy at all, and if he didn't quit groping Clare he was going to go over there and stop him—despite the fact that Clare would kick his ass for it later.

It didn't matter that she could defend herself, the fact was that she wasn't. She'd gotten a lot better since Denver, but there were still self-destructive tendencies that he'd do anything to get her to stop. Despite the mutual cheating in the relationship, Harry was closer to Clare then Nate would ever be, and it hurt to see her happy, or at least finding some of what she needed with another man, but at the same time, he'd rather she be happy with Harry than numb with anyone else. Even him.

"Hey, XSE, I think the wall's sturdy enough without you needing to hold it up."

He moved off the wall, chastened, and then frowned, searching for the owner of the voice.

He found it in an attractive blonde approaching him with a smile on her face that did nothing to dispel the look of caution on his. He sized her up carefully. She was slender and small, but looked strong as well. Her conservative, for this place, anyway, tight blue dress didn't look like it could hide any weapons.

"How did you know?" he started, having to yell a bit to be heard over the music.

She laughed, it made her small nose crinkle and her blue eyes shine despite the dim mood lighting. "You have the look... plus, I have that same t-shirt at home." She extended her hand. "Lieutenant Amy Morrison, Temporal Division."

He relaxed a bit and couldn't help smiling back at her as he shook her hand. "Nate," he returned simply, not wanting to pull rank or family influence.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Just Nate?"

"For now," he said, glancing back towards the dance floor.

Amy followed his gaze and smirked. "So are you the boyfriend, the ex-boyfriend or the future boyfriend?"

Nate scowled. He'd be willing to give up choice parts of his soul for any of the options, let alone to be dancing that way with her now, but he couldn't go half-way. Not with her. It would hurt too much to get that close and then have her leave him alone. So he had watched carefully instead of cutting in—besides, it looked like she was here for more than dancing anyway. "You could say I'm an over-protective cousin."

"Good." She moved closer to him possessively.

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Amy tilted her head and seemed to be sizing Clare up. "She looks like she can take care of herself."

He sighed. "She can."

Amy gave him a moment more to watch the dance floor. "Looks like she's having fun."

"I'll bet," he mumbled darkly.

"Wanna follow her lead?" He felt Amy take his hand and he looked down at her. There was a wicked smile on her lips. She shook her head a little and long blonde hair rearranged itself on her shoulders.

"I don't think so." He shook his head, but was surprised he didn't let go of her hand.

"Hmm." She was now sizing him up, her hand on her chin.

"Hmm?" He responded, a little concerned.

"You know, I've been coming to this club since it opened. It's the one place where people like us," she tapped her head with her free hand, "can let go of all our control and reserve. I've seen some pretty weird shit here-- that can happen when a couple hundred telepaths are all broadcasting 'take me now' vibes, but this is the first time I've ever seen anyone in here broadcasting 'come repress with me' vibes."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "So are you over here 'cause you like us repressed types?"

She looked him square in the eye. "I'm over here cause I like a challenge."

She took his other hand in hers as well and put both of them firmly on the small of her back as she moved closer.

He swallowed as she simultaneously pressed herself against him and at the same time pulled him towards the center of the dance floor. Loud music and a crowd of bodies pressed around them and she moved enthusiastically with it. He tried to keep up with her—he had never precisely been grace personified.

She laughed delightedly again. "Did anyone tell you you're cute when you're nervous?"

He dodged an amorous couple who came a bit too close to them and then turned back to Amy and half-smiled. "No, but apparently that's how my dad landed my mom, so it must be in the genes."

"Mmm." She made a speculative noise. "Good genes."

The ever-diminishing rational part of his mind noted that she could have been talking about his J-E-A-N-S, since her hands were exploring them enthusiastically.

"Hey," she said, as he felt the telepathic equivalent of a knock on the door. #You gonna let me in so I can see what makes you tick?#

#I shouldn't. Too many secrets to keep.# Using telepathy gave them an artificial closeness that he wasn't sure he liked, but it saved his voice.

Amy maneuvered them through the crowd to get a look at Clare. #Doesn't look like your cousin's worried about keeping secrets.#

He followed her gaze to Clare and nodded. He really wished Clare could find a way to unwind that didn't involve getting beat-up or involved with creepy looking strangers. Why couldn't she play chess like her father had? #She's got enough to worry about. I keep secrets for her.# Whether that meant that he was keeping her secrets so she could focus on other things or keeping his secrets so they wouldn't worry her, he didn't quite know. Either way, it was the least he could do. Even though she'd hurt him for thinking it, he wanted to protect her, and he'd failed spectacularly a number of times so far, Denver being the biggest, and then all the innumerable scrapes since.

She coughed. #You keep secrets for her? Doesn't sound like any relationship I've had with a cousin.#

#We work together,# he explained, after shielding her from his first response, which was: #You don't know the half of it.#

#Which reminds me,# She poked a finger at his chest. #You got a rank to go with that repression?#

He looked away and smiled before looking back at her. #I didn't want to bring it up in civvies.#

She indicated his shirt. #You're not quite in civvies, Nate.#

#Guess you're right.# He shrugged. #You sure you want me to pull rank on you?#

#Guess that means you outrank me. Oops. Sorry, Sir.# She mock saluted. #Probably shouldn't have hit on a superior officer.# She ground her hips against his in a particularly distracting way that let him know precisely how sorry she was.

He pulled her closer to him, if just to still the lower half of her body so he could gather his wits to say something. #Lieutenant Commander.#

#Oooh.# The impressed exclamation didn't sound quite authentic. #And your cousin..?# she trailed off. #I didn't catch her name.#

#Clare.#

#Clare.# She rolled the name around her mouth and then looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, and playing very coy. #I suppose she outranks me, too.#

#She outranks me.

#Commander Clare?#

He nodded.

#So what are the two of you doing slumming it with the rank and file, here?#

#Clare thought I needed to loosen up.#

#Clare's right.# To emphasize her point, she moved the hand that had been on the small of his back quite a bit lower.

Then she froze.

#Wait a minute. Commander Clare? Commander Clare Summers?#

#Yeah. Heard of her?#

She snorted at him. #I may be a lowly Lieutenant in the Temporal Department, but everyone knows who the only two people to survive Denver were.#

He flinched at the city name. It brought up memories of being scared and confused and angry and just feeling helpless. Then there was the horrible vision of the first time he'd seen Harry and especially Clare afterwards. She'd just looked so small and broken laying on the bed, and that had scared him more than anything else.

Amy noticed him drifting. She touched his face to bring it back to hers and there was an apology in her eyes even if she didn't understand why. #I suppose that makes you Lieutenant Commander Nathan--#

#Guthrie,# he finished.

#Shit! Hundreds of people in this place and I try to seduce a Founder's Kid. I'm going to get demoted for this, aren't I?#

He couldn't help it. She was a little pushy, but he had to admit that he liked her. At the very least he wanted to spend more time with her, and didn't want her running off afraid his father would bust her down to Private first class. #I won't tell if you don't.#

She laughed and pulled him into the light. #Would you turn all shades of red if I kissed you right now?#

He smiled back. #Probably.#

#Good. You're probably cute when you blush.#

She pulled his head down to hers gently and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

She pulled away. #Mmm. Very nice. And you are cute when you blush.#

He laughed nervously and ducked his head.

She smiled softly. #We have an audience.#

He glanced behind him and was rewarded with a feeling that he was doing something he shouldn't. Clare was looking at him. She was smiling, but in his heart, he couldn't help but feel disloyal… As messed up as it was to feel bad for 'cheating' on someone who he was not actually in a relationship with. And probably never would be.

#Why are you looking at me,# Clare was practically growling in his head, #when there is a perfectly attractive young woman all but clinging to you? Go find a bed, or failing that the nearest secluded corner,# she thought at him wickedly. She made a shooing motion with her hands. He shot a glance at the guy in leather pants. Was Clare really that eager to be alone with this guy? He looked back to Amy and schooled his features so Clare wouldn't see the look of disappointment on his face—he didn't have the right to feel that way, he knew.

"She said something nice about me, I hope?"

"You could say that."

#Let's get out of here,# her mind-voice was husky with what that implied.

#I have to admit, I've had a pretty good time tonight, Amy…#

She pulled back to look him in they eyes. She didn't look happy. #But..?#

#I don't think I'm ready to start something right now. My mind's on someone else right now, and it just wouldn't be fair to you.#

She laughed at him, delightedly. #Oh, you really are as sweet as you look.#

He scowled. His masculinity was really being threatened tonight, and he was really starting to get tired of it.

#I don't want to start something, Nate. I just want to have a good night. Couldn't start something if I wanted to, actually, as tempting as you are. This time tomorrow, I'll be in Russia. I never went for long-distance relationships.#

She leaned in again and kissed him deeper. Her tongue tasted his and explored his mouth.She worked her hands through his short hair as her body pressed up against his in a particularly satisfying manner. It was a promise of a long night of fun to be had. He let himself relax as he tightened his arms around her. She looked, smelled and even tasted good, and it had been a long time…

#Come on, Nate. Call it a going away present.#

He looked away, took a deep breath and weighed options in his head. He brushed her surface thoughts, and looked down at her. She was looking up at him earnestly and she wanted him. He smiled and nodded his head. #All right. Where are we headed?#

She pulled him towards the exit. #My place or yours? I live a couple blocks away from the Tower…#

#I can teleport. Let's go to my place. Besides, I have got to get out of these pants.#

She laughed. #Don't you worry about that.#

Once they were outside, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her as they teleported away.

**************************************

"I guess Lieutenant Commanders make the big bucks, eh?"  She moved away from him, peeking into the living room and kitchen as he took off his jacket.

He looked around the entryway. "It's not much." It wasn't big, or particularly fancy, but it was fairly new and well constructed, and his preference of clean lines and lack of clutter made it look a little bigger than it was, even if sometimes it struck him as a little stark. It was done in cool blacks, whites, grays and blues, with a little brown thrown in if he felt a particular area needed some warming up.

"It's better than mine." She was wandering away from him. This was not supposed to be a Home and Gardens tour.

He firmly put all thoughts of Clare to the back of his mind, and resolutely decided he was going to do this. And he was going to have fun, dammit. He tossed his jacket towards the closet and then pulled her close again, his hands making for the zipper on the back of her dress. They left the dress pooled in the entryway.

"Where's the bedroom?" she whispered huskily, as he trailed kisses down her jaw and then her collarbone.

He tilted his head in the direction of the door. She smiled and backed towards it, pulling him with her. His shirt was off over his head before he knew it, and she pushed him down onto the bed.

He yelped, and sprang back up away from her.

She raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Sorry." He muttered. "These pants are just a little tight. Well, more than a little really. Hurts to sit down."

"Lemme see if I can help with that." She crossed the room to him and trailed a hand down his chest as she met his lips with her own. A few seconds of work and button and zipper at least were taken care of. He broke the kiss just to get his first full breath all night.

"Thanks."

"Not a problem."

He tried sliding them off. It was trickier than he'd hoped.

She watched him struggle for a while, repressing laughter, and then decided to help. She grabbed one pant leg at the knee and yanked. It moved down about an inch.

"Here… try that again, and I'll lean against the wall here, and…"

"No, shift your weight… like that…"

"Careful…"

"Don't overbalance, now…"

***********************************

Nathan reflected that he'd really have to apologize to his downstairs neighbor for that.

The two of them were sprawled on the floor where they'd fallen, only partly successful in their attempt to get him naked.

Amy was laughing again. He liked the sound. He joined in.

"Do you have any scissors?" She gasped between fits of giggles. "A scalpel maybe?"

He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "This is a disaster," he chuckled.

"You giving up?" She raised an eyebrow at him, challenging and seductive at the same time. She was laying on her stomach, looking at him, unselfconscious in only her underwear and bra. Of course, there was nothing to be self-conscious about. That was one side benefit of the XSE—all that training turned out some beautiful, strong bodies… Even if, technically, he shouldn't really be availing himself of them.

"Maybe not. I've got one last thing to try." He took her hand again, confidence finally returning after the less than graceful or sexy move of falling on his ass trying to take his pants off. He was ready to try something a little more creative. "Zara did this to Harry's swim trunks once…"

He teleported them both to the bed, but his pants stayed where they were and fell forlornly to the floor.

"Oh thank God!" It was so nice to be able to breathe again.

"Very smooth, Lieutenant Commander."

"All part of my plan."

"Right." She didn't sound convinced. "Circulation returning?"

"Let's find out," he said, and pushed her back onto the bed with a kiss.

***********************************

"Clare's right. You needed that."

Nate's hand paused from where it was running through her long blonde hair. Clare was not exactly the first person he wanted to hear about at this moment. He staunchly fought back the feelings of guilt that threatened to intrude on him. She wanted me to have a good time, and I did. There is nothingto regret here. "Thanks."

"I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it." She planted a brief kiss on the area of his chest under her head.

"This sort of thing doesn't happen a lot," he admitted, looking up at the ceiling. He could count the girls he'd been with on one hand. Work was his priority, it had always been, and not just because Clare was there. He just had always wanted to be good at his job, and when he was doing a good job, he wanted to be doing a better job. Not a lot of people could understand that, or had the patience to put up with being second fiddle to a bunch of paperwork. He hadn't met the girl yet who understood that three broken dates in a row meant that he was having a great workweek.

She reached up and touched his face, bringing it back to look at her and meeting his eyes. "I'm sure she's worth waiting for."

"What?" He blinked at her, distracted from his reverie.

"I just hope she's not really your cousin, 'cause I usually don't support inbreeding."

He liked the way her eyes sparkled when she was holding in laughter, but he closed his eyes anyway, took a breath to center himself. "She's not—we were just raised in the same household for a while." Fuck. He also hadn't met the girl yet who couldn't blithely ignore his relationship with Clare—probably because he was completely unsuccessful at ignoring it himself. "I'm that transparent?" And why couldn't Clare see it, if he was? Or was she just ignoring it better?

"As glass, Nate." She sighed. "It's too bad. You seem like a really nice guy. I have the feeling you might have to wait for a long time."

"I know."

She shook her head at him. #The tragedy of a good man going to waste...# she thought. He wasn't sure if it had been meant for him or not. "You're a good guy, Nate. Look me up if you ever come to Russia."

"I did my internship there, actually. I have a few friends I could go visit."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, before she broke his gaze. She sighed, frustrated, and rolled over to look at the ceiling, her head still on his chest. "Love sucks and movies are bullshit. Things never work out that simply, eh?"

"Actually, they do sometimes… Which actually makes it worse," he murmured to himself.

She propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed, shook his head. "Never mind."

His father was his mother's first and only love. She'd met him at 17 and married him at 21. He'd heard the stories from friends and family, seen the pictures. No time wasted, but not rushed-- Each separate people, but unquestionably a partnership. Why couldn't he find that? He was a telepath after all. His mother was empathic and his dad headblind. He would have thought the additional insight it provided him would have helped him see the perfect partner earlier rather than later. He shook off the sudden and distasteful loneliness, and reminded himself to take advantage of the companionship while he had it.

They lay in companionable silence for a while. He adjusted the rumpled blankets around her and held her tighter. She pressed herself closer to him.

She laughed and ruffled his hair. He scowled half-heartedly. She smiled at him, nodded and made her decision. "It's been fun, Nate, but it's time I got to the other side of the world."

He stroked her shoulder and leaned down to kiss her once more. "You don't have to go yet. We could go out and grab some early breakfast, late dinner or something."

"Nah. I'm not the breakfast type." She slid out of bed, and he had to admit it felt empty and cold without her. He watched her gather her clothes.

"Cup of coffee for the road, at least?"

"All right," she relented, before heading to the entryway to grab her dress.

He found a pair of boxers and slipped them on, and then padded out towards the kitchen, passing her along the way. "Cream and sugar?"

"Sugar."

He nodded, started the coffee machine, and grabbed two mugs and the sugar bowl. He got flavored creamer out of the fridge for himself.

Just as the coffee pot was collecting the last few drops of coffee from the filter she came out of the bedroom fully dressed. He filled her mug and slid it down the kitchen counter towards her, sending the sugar bowl to follow it.

She smiled at him and then dumped a spoonful of sugar into her coffee, and stirred it in.

"Any place I can 'port you to? Can I hail you a cab?" he asked awkwardly, taking a sip from his own mug.

"I'm a couple blocks away from the Tower… If you could get me to the front entrance, it would save me a lot of time." She smoothed her hair and straightened her dress with her free hand.

"Will do."

They drank their coffee in mostly silence, until, with an air of finality, she put her coffee cup down. "I haven't finished packing yet, Nate."

He nodded and set his coffee cup down as well. "All right. Let's get you home, then." He pulled her close to hug her and kissed her on the cheek. "It was nice to meet you, Amy. Thanks for… well, you know."

She grinned at him. "I had a good time, too, Nate. It was worth it… if only for the gossip about my superior officers. FK's are fun."

"We've got an acronym?" He looked at her disbelievingly. He'd known that he and his 'family' were looked on a bit differently than regular officers, but he'd had no idea it had gotten them far enough that they were summed up with two letters.

"You don't know the half of it. Any 'cousins' you'd recommend?" She grinned madly at him.

"Just promise me you'll stay away from Zara Logan."

"Okay." She kissed him on the lips. "Bye, Nate."

"Bye, Amy."

He closed his eyes and she disappeared.

He sighed, standing alone in the kitchen for a moment. There one moment and gone the next, as if she had never been. He played with his coffee cup. He felt lucky just to get those few hours, and yet there was something else he wanted. Not that he knew how to go about getting it… and it wouldn't work anyway, he reminded himself. He'd made his choice, and his choice was to be the best XSE officer he could as quickly as possible. There wasn't a lot extra time for other things as long as that was his priority. It still was.

A glance at the clock on the microwave told him it was still very early in the morning, and that he could still grab a few hours of sleep if he went to bed now—he hadn't had enough coffee yet to interfere. He went back to his bedroom and looked at the pair of pants on the floor. He kicked them towards the closet, then thought better of it and kicked them back towards the small garbage can in his room.

A flash of light distracted him from picking them up and putting them in the can.

"Judging by the state of your bed, I can assume it went well?"

He jumped and spun at the sound of her voice—the last person he wanted to see right now. "Jesus, Clare. You could knock."

"What? I checked to make sure you were alone." Clare was examining his room carefully as if it could tell her what had happened. It probably could. He caught her approving smile as she glanced at where his t-shirt was lying in the entryway.

"…But not dressed, apparently." He headed to the closet, and dug out a pair of sweat pants to put on over his boxers.

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I've seen you in less than that."

"Not since I was four."

She snorted at him and primly sat on the edge of his bed. She was still wearing the black dress. He resolutely did not look in her direction. "So how was your night?" he threw over his shoulder as he dug through his closet for a clean t-shirt.

"Not as good as yours." She sounded disappointed.

"It looked like it was progressing nicely when I left."

She sighed. "He was pretty. That was about it. Not much in his head, other than some gamma or beta telepathy. He was getting boring. I left him at the club." She glanced around his room again. "So what have you got planned for the rest of tonight?"

"Sleep," he said. He walked past her and threw back the covers on the bed before sitting down on it.

Clare followed him with her eyes before finally rising. She walked over to him and ruffled his hair. "Not if you're thinking that hard. What are you worried about?"

He pushed her hands away and smoothed his hair back down. "Nothing. Go away, Clare. I'm tired."

She cocked her head at him, thinking, and then decided to speak. "Quit letting your parents get to you."

"What are you talking about?" It was too late at night, and after what had just happened—this was not the time he wanted to have this conversation.

"Every time you have a fling you think you're moving that much farther away from what your parents have."

He closed his eyes and sat back further on the bed, away from her. Was he made out of clear cellophane tonight, or what? He must be tired.

"You don't want what your parents have." She continued, moving closer, not letting him escape. "It may look good now, but he's immortal and she's not. It's a doomed love. It'll be tragic and sad, and you never think of that part." She touched his shoulder gently. "Do what the rest of us do, and take what you can get."

He looked away from her. She smiled knowingly, but kindly, and kissed him on the top of the head. #Sleep well, Nate,# she said as she vanished.

He sighed and touched the spot where her lips had been. What can I get, Clare?

He lay down and stared at the ceiling for a long time before he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

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