AU: He Was My Brother (Cobalt)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Thanksgiving.

The Neville family had all flown down to Florida to spend the holiday with grandparents. All save for Sean, who had obligations in New York which prevented him from travel. Obligations such as work, since the holidays were a particularly difficult time for those coping with depression. Obligations such as Cobalt, who had school on the Wednesday before and needed to attend his classes. Cobalt who, while technically old enough to be left alone for a couple of days with food in the refrigerator and money on the counter, Sean didn’t think his ward should have to spend the holiday alone. He certainly didn’t think that Cobalt should be subjected to a house full of semi-drunken Nevilles.

The telepath used to love Thanksgiving. Not because of the underlying lie upon which it had been built – and he strove for historical accuracy and social consciousness. No, he had loved the opportunity to prepare a big meal and spend the day with his family. Thanksgiving was much more difficult without Josh by his side; he missed the other man.

Even when he kept a stiff upper lip. It was bad enough that Cobalt had been caught in the middle of the mess that was his relationship with the law student. The high school student didn’t need his last year before college further ruined by Sean’s melancholy.

So, the day before, he had begun the turkey preparation, since the recipe he used required a full twenty-four hours. Then, the day proper, he had awoken early, put on the broadcast of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and then set about beginning the rest of the cooking. In the middle of also brewing coffee, cocoa for Cobalt, and breakfast for the two of them.

By the early afternoon, the kitchen was in a frenzy, or so it appeared to an outside observer. The telepath had it organized.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt liked Thanksgiving well enough. Which was about as much as the high school senior liked anything. He thought the idea of an entire day revolving around the making and eating of a large meal seemed as good an idea as any. He was obviously aware of the historical and social issues of the holiday. He was Sean's ward, after all. But he liked food and he liked family--such as he had--and he also really liked pie, so he managed to balance the bad with the good.

He wasn't sure what they were going to do without Josh, and that made him a little mad. He was always a little mad when he wondered what they were going to do without Josh. Even though he knew they would be fine, they didn't need Josh. It would have been nice, was all. And every effort Cobalt made to try to fix it usually turned into an argument (that one time with Josh in a bookstore) or a serious discussion (with Sean) and both of these were entirely unpleasant.

The best part about Thanksgiving was undoubtedly the fact that he didn't have school. And so he got to poke around the kitchen, benefit from Sean's breakfast cooking, and not have to deal with anyone from classes for a few days.

"Can I help with anything?" Cobalt asked, watching the organized chaos unfold in the kitchen, resting his forearms on the kitchen counter.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

For Cobalt’s sake, if not for his own as well, Sean vowed not to spend the entire day reflecting on Josh. He wouldn’t wonder whether the law student had already gone to his parents’ apartment for supper, or whether he was sleeping in since he didn’t have other obligations for the day. He wouldn’t wonder whether he had begun his Chanukah shopping, since the holiday was earlier than Christmas was.

No. Today, he would focus on Cobalt, and he would take a bit of time for self-care as well.

“Do you want to mash the potatoes?” The telepath asked, turning his head only briefly to offer the boy a smile. “If you don’t, then you can help me with the finger foods in a few minutes.”

Thanksgiving would only be the two of them, but Sean was used to making food for more. Even when Thanksgiving had been only Josh and himself, he had still treated the day’s feast as more than for a pair. It was simply how he cooked for the holiday.

“When it gets closer to testing the turkey, you can taste it first,” he promised. That was a job reserved for children in the Neville family, or had been for Josh when he had still lived with the telepath.

[Cobalt Weaver]

"Sure, I can do the potatoes," Cobalt replied, circling around the counter to where the pot of potatoes sat--boiled and cut--on the stove. He set the colander in the sink and strained the potatoes with some effort, seeing as the potato pot was huge and he was not exactly the tallest or biggest teenager in the world. People always thought he was a few years younger than he was, especially when he and Sean went out together, since Sean was so much taller.

At Sean's promise, Cobalt gave him a crooked grin. "Sounds good," he said, dumping the potatoes back into the pot and searching for the masher. Finding it in the drawer, he set about aggressively smashing the potatoes as violently as he could. He wasn't particularly strong, so it was just quicker to go about it like he was trying to smash a hole in the pot.

"I finished my homework for the week," he informed Sean offhandedly, still valiantly trying to mash the potatoes. "I think it's sort of shitty that we got assigned homework over break at all, but whatever." Cobalt grimaced disdainfully. He had Opinions about homework over breaks.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean acknowledged that with a nod. Cobalt took after the telepath in that way, since Sean had always tried to complete his homework earlier rather than later during breaks. He had wanted to preserve as much family time as possible. When he had been at Hammel, he had wanted to build in time for himself, since he never knew when his next debilitating migraine would prevent any focus. “That’s good. That way you can relax a bit.”

Then, at the boy’s casual profanity, he chastised, “Language.”

The telepath focused on the corn that he had been preparing, and then went to find the biscuits so that he could put those in the oven on the next round. “The schools can’t set aside an entire week of lessons this close to winter break,” he reminded him. That was all he would say on the matter, since he didn’t want to spark an argument about public education.

Instead, he switched the topic of conversation to higher education. “How are you doing with the college applications?”

It was imperative that Cobalt go to college. He had done so well with his studies, and Sean was committed to getting him to any institution that accepted him. Hammel had scholarship connections, and they were helping in that regard as well.

[Cobalt Weaver]

"Yup," Cobalt said cheerfully. Once he was satisfied that the potatoes had been properly massacred, the teenager dug out the butter, salt, and pepper. Applying liberal amounts of butter, he ducked his head and said, "sorry." at Sean's chastisement. Although he wasn't much sorry at all, he still knew he shouldn't have said it.

"Mmmn," was all Cobalt was interested in saying about school. He and Sean could debate about public education later, as they sometimes did, but Cobalt wasn't particularly invested in arguing for once.

"Doing fine," Cobalt replied. "I'm sort of stuck on my essay, though. I don't think what I have is that great, and I don't know what to talk about. I mean, the questions are so stupid." He scowled, "they're asking things like "when have you overcome hardship and how" or, like, "what sets you apart from other people" or something like that, and I just don't know." Cobalt was having a very hard time figuring out how to make himself sound good. The very notion seemed a little silly.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean was sympathetic. The essay portion of applications had never been a favorite aspect for him. Medical school essays were even worse than college applications, since they were all the more pointed and judgmental, although they could be overcome during the interview stage.

Sean interviewed well.

The telepath took butter and salt from Cobalt when the boy was finished with them, applying more controlled portions of each to the corn, before stirring it together. From there, he moved on to the cutting board so he could begin slicing cheese for their appetizer platter. “There’s a lot that sets you apart from other people,” he pointed out.

Of course, it was Sean’s outlook on life that, by virtue of being a different person, everyone was set apart in some way from other people. It was merely a matter of focusing on those ways and then finding a way to articulate them.

He didn’t think that was necessarily easy for everyone. He understood that it wasn’t particularly easy for Cobalt. The telepath was quite familiar with the high school student’s self-esteem problems which had a tendency to eclipse his positive qualities in favor of his negative ones.

Josh had the same tendency.

But Sean wouldn’t think about him right now. This was about Cobalt’s future.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt gave Sean the disbelieving look that he felt the situation deserved. "I think the last time I "overcame hardship" I got in a fight," Cobalt adjusted his glasses, "I don't think colleges want to hear about that." He wasn't trying to be difficult this time. He just really didn't know what to say.

"Did you have to do this sort of thing?" he asked Sean, covering the potatoes and leaving them to settle. "What did you write about?"

He figured if anyone knew how to do this sort of thing, it would be Sean. Cobalt hadn't exactly grown out of his thirteen-year-old's belief that Sean probably knew the answer to everything. It just made a lot of sense. He peeked over at Sean slicing cheese and added, "I'm done with the potatoes, do you want me to do something else?"

Cobalt liked helping Sean in the kitchen. Before he became Sean's ward, cooking seemed like an impossible sort of magic. Now, it was...still a little beyond him if he tried anything harder than pasta or cookies, but he could at least keep up with Sean now.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean gestured with his knife in the direction of the different boxes of chips and crackers. “If you can put the crackers in one of the baskets, and then the chips in the bowls? I have dip there too that you can uncover and put out on the coffee table.”

As though they were serving a part of more than the two of them.

Then he returned his visual attention to the cheeses, slicing them into manageable slices and chunks to be eaten with the crackers and chips.

“I wouldn’t recommend writing about your fights, no,” he admitted. In the interest of self-preservation, Cobalt couldn’t draw attention to his disciplinary record or his slow-to-acquire anger management. Instead, the teenager needed to focus on his positive qualities.

Like his intelligence, sharp-wit, and natural curiosity. All of those made him an ideal university candidate.

“I did.” The telepath nodded in confirmation, before casting about for the prosciutto he had purchased at the Italian deli the day before. That went well with finger foods, and he thought it would be a nice change of pace. “I wrote about wanting to be a doctor for a few of them. For the others, I wrote about being a telepath and what that meant for my personal development and what it meant for other people.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

"Okay," Cobalt said, tugging over the boxes of chips and crackers. As he was pouring them out into separate bowls, his thin face grew frustrated. "Yeah," he said, "I figured. I just. I don't know what to say about me. I haven't done anything interesting."

"Huh," Cobalt considered this information. "I mean, I can talk about being a lawyer, and my goals, I guess. But my power has done pretty much nothing for me. Hm."

He fished out the dip, pulled off the seran wrap, and put it on the coffee table. "Maybe I should just run away and join the circus," he joked. "If they don't want me for shadow manipulation, I can be their new Dog-Faced Boy." The teenager snickered, amused at himself and his own terrible sense of humor.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean, upon finding the package, began unwrapping the prosciutto, rolling them onto the decorate platter beside the cheeses for their finger foods. He knew that he was making more presentation for this than was necessary, but he thought that also made it nice. Thanksgiving was unlike most other days of the year, since it was for family, and it was all the more important for him and Cobalt to band together this year.

“You could write about that,” the telepath suggested. “There’s a popular conception that all powers are big and flashy. You could write about how yours isn’t and how people perceive you.”

Sean spun around quickly as soon as the teenager cracked the joke about himself. He didn’t raise his voice, and he certainly wasn’t prone to violence, although if he was a stereotype of a parent or grandparent of a certain age – or was a nun from Catholic schools – Cobalt was in danger of having his knuckles rapped with a ruler or a wooden spoon. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

The telepath was well aware of how Cobalt saw himself, which didn’t sync with how he saw the teenager. He also wouldn’t let him insult himself in this house, certainly not in Sean’s presence. Helping Cobalt come to like himself had been one of their long-term projects and remained as such. “The entire world’s ahead of you.”

With that, he returned to his platter.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt considered this. "Yeah, actually, that sounds like a good idea," he said finally. "I can talk about that, at least." That had always been a source of frustration, not least of all because he saw other shadow manipulators with far better versions of the power. He couldn't do anything with his power, and that always seemed to disappoint of confuse other people. Not that his power was any of their business. "People seem to always wanna know about meta stuff. 'Cept when they ask me why my powers aren't as cool as others, and then I don't know what to say. I'm not a metabiologist."

When Sean whirled around to face him, Cobalt set his jaw and his shoulders stubbornly. He still, after a good three years with Sean, wasn't used to having someone so vehemently in his corner. He still wasn't used to having someone see him in such a good light when they didn't have to. He still didn't know how to handle it. "Why not?" he challenged stubbornly, "it's true. And anyways, who cares, it's not like I wanna be a model." The teenager made a disdainful face.

"Yeah," Cobalt muttered. "Everyone's ahead of me." He knew that wasn't what Sean meant, and he didn't want to ruin the holiday with his bad mood, but he couldn't help it. Sometimes he just go angry and couldn't stop.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean nodded, since it seemed that they had reached a consensus regarding his ward’s college essay topic. “There’s a lot that you could say on that. Either about how your powers work, or about societal expectations. That as a meta, you’re expected to know as much as a scientist despite being only a teenager, and how unfair that is.” The telepath believed that would make for an excellent essay.

Sean pursed his lips together, because he didn’t want to have an argument in the middle of supper preparations. This was a holiday, a day set aside for spending with one’s loved ones, and it was bound to be depressing because of the fact that it was only the two of them, separate from anyone else that they might long to be with them. The telepath was well-acquainted with Cobalt’s stubborn streak, and, while he was generally prone to give, he was more than capable of maintaining his argument when he had one.

This was not an area where he was willing to compromise, not when Cobalt’s future self-image was at stake.

Setting aside the platter of meats and cheeses, he turned again to meet the teenager’s eyes. “What do you think it feels like to care about someone and to be told that they are worth nothing? What does that say about your love?”

It was food for thought.

[Cobalt Weaver]

"Yeah, which sucks when you don't know any science," Cobalt muttered. Science had never been his strong point and he had next to no interest in it either. He liked to read up just enough to be able to answer basic meta questions, just in case, but it annoyed him that he had to. It was a hassle and he didn't like talking to people anyways.

Cobalt wondered if he was going to get in actual Trouble this time. Usually he and Sean had disagreements or arguments, but they were usually resolved with conversation. He'd stopped expecting to be punished in any of the traditional ways very, very soon after coming under Sean's charge. But every so once in a while, he wondered. He was wondering this time. He knew that it wouldn't be very effective for Sean to send him to his room because he already spent half his time in there anyways.

Cobalt met Sean's eyes with more challenge than he knew the situation merited. He crossed his arms over his chest uncomfortably and shrugged petulantly. "Just because someone likes you doesn't mean that there's not something wrong with you still," he muttered.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“You know enough science to graduate,” Sean reminded him, gesturing with the spoon that the next platter was ready to be taken over to the coffee table. “Besides, not even the current Nobel prize winner knows what causes meta-human manifestation, so what hope is there for the rest of us?”

The telepath knew that his teenage ward didn’t want to argue any more than he did. That made it difficult given how fundamentally they viewed certain topics, particularly Cobalt’s self-worth, his inherent value as a human being. It was bad enough that he walked through life feeling only half-present; he didn’t want Cobalt to continue to feel that way when he had his entire life ahead of him.

Muttering wasn’t an effective strategy with a telepath; Sean expected that the shadow manipulator knew that. “There’s something wrong with all of us, because none of us are perfect. That doesn’t make us worthless, and it doesn’t mean that everyone else is better than us by virtue of our imperfections.”

With a soft sigh, he set down the utensils and crossed to the refrigerator, pulling out the open bottle of white wine. “Do you want anything to drink?”

The telepath didn’t expect Cobalt to ask for wine, given their past experiments, but they kept a well-stocked kitchen.