Scott is five and his Mommy is blue. He is not blue and, at five, it's the height of tragedy and Alex has no clue what to do with him. He's pretty sure kids Scott's age are supposed to be throwing temper tantrums in stores, demanding the latest fire truck or ray gun or whatever, not to be blue like Mommy.

Hank just grins, ducking her head in that way she always does that makes him remember when she could really blush and he'd torment her just for the chance to see those little ears of hers turn pink, and shakes her head.

"They should have books about this," he says, when they catch Scott hidden away in the Danger Room armed with a stash of blue permanent markers, a mirror, and a carefully sketched out crayon diagram.

Hank picks up their son, smoothing a hand over his hair, soothing him as he cries about the injustice of it all. "I'll suggest it to Charles." She cuddles Scott closer, humming, then looks at Alex over Scott's head. "And maybe-"

"Maybe?"

The hair dye isn't much, but Scott stops crying and they don't have to worry about locking up the school supplies.

The hair dye lasts a few years. Alex doesn't have the heart to put a stop to it. Not when he sees the way Hank looks at their son and definitely not when he watches Scott agonize over getting the shade 'just right'.

"Besides," he says one night, head on Hank's chest, listening to the thud of her heartbeat beneath his ear, "I figure this buys us some good karma for when he hits puberty."

"You hope," Hank says, completely unsympathetic. She's sliding her fingers over his back, the tips of her claws making him shiver with the promise. "Personally, I think we have nothing to worry about."

"How's that?"

"Well, he's already dying his hair so that's out," she says. "And since sons rebel against their father, it follows that he'll probably be a model citizen." She laughs. "Maybe he'll end up running for president."

First mutant president. Alex kind of likes the sound of it, even if there's not a chance in hell. "What if he decides to rebel against you?"

Hank chuckles. "There's nothing he can do that you probably haven't already tried."

Scott, as it turns out, decides to split the difference. Which is how Alex gets called out of bed on a Friday night, surprised to find his fifteen year old son in lock up and not his room.

Mostly, they're on good terms with the local government and both sides have worked hard to keep it that way. This isn't the first time they've gotten a late night call, but it's the first time they've gotten one because one of the kids started trouble.

"Figures, right?" he says, hunting for a pair of jeans. "First time one of the kids gets in trouble and it's my kid."

Hank sighs, getting out of bed with him. She pulls on a bathrobe, belting it tight around her waist, and kisses his cheek. "Ourkid," she says, squeezing his hands. "And promise me you'll at least hear him out first, all right? This doesn't sound like Scott."

She's right, it doesn't. And that's what worries him.

"We'll be waiting in the kitchen," Charles says, meeting them in the hall. He looks at Hank and smiles.

Whatever passes between them, Alex doesn't say, but the way Hank nods and her shoulders relax eases some of his tension.

Not that it hasn't found its way back by the time he pulls up outside the police station, but he can appreciate the effort anyway.

The sheriff meets him outside, hat in hand, looking a little embarrassed. "Thanks for coming down so late, Alex," he says, turning the hat as he speaks. "Truth be told, I can understand where he's coming from."

"What happened?"

"Couple summer kids," the sheriff tips his head toward an expensive car parked next to his. "Saw Scott and your wife out shoppin' this afternoon. Apparently he ran into them outside the theatre tonight and, and, well, they had a few things to say about the Doc that Scott didn't much like. You can pretty much imagine how that went."

Alex closes his eyes and mutters under his breath. "Are they all right?" Scott's mutation is newly emerged, still completely uncontrollable and Hank's starting to talk about aides. Alex knows too well what it could do if Scott wasn't careful.

"Oh, a few bumps and bruises, about what you'd expect." The sheriff shrugs. "He kept it fair, which is probably more than I would've done. Anyway, I finally talked him into letting me call you. Stubborn boy you've got there, would've waited until morning otherwise."

"Gets it from his mother," Alex says, not quite laughing at the irony. "So, what're we looking at?"

"Oh, I imagine a little community service ought to cover it. Summer camp coming up in a few weeks. They've been looking for counselors..."

Alex grins, relieved. "I think we can work something out."

Scott doesn't say a word the whole way back. His face is bruised, a line cut into one cheek from where his glasses dug in, but the look on it is familiar. Alex remembers seeing it in his own reflection more than a few times.

They pull in at the school and he cuts the engine, looking up at the building that's become his family's home. "Your mother and Xavier are waiting in the kitchen."

"I won't tell them, Dad," Scott says, quiet.

It takes him a second to realize what he means. Alex sighs. "Trust me, son, it wouldn't be the first time your mother's heard something like that."

"Maybe not, but she shouldn't have to and she's not going to now." Scott opens the door and gets out. "I'm not telling them."

Alex isn't supposed to be proud of him for this. He's not, but he is. He's wanted to do it a few times himself. His wife's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, blue fur and all, and anyone who says otherwise is looking for a fight.

He can't blame his kid for thinking the same damn thing.

"You kept powers out of it," he says, after a moment's thinking. Scott's not the first kid to get into a fight defending one of his parents. He's not even the first mutant kid to do so. "That's good."

He can't see Scott's eyes, but he can pretty much guess just how hard they're rolling about now.

"Doesn't mean you're not going to be grounded until you're a hundred and three, but it counts for something."

"Time off for good behaviour?" Scott tries, corner of his mouth lifting in a grin that reminds Alex of Hank.

"Maybe, but not with the sheriff." Alex tries to hold back his laughter, but doesn't quite succeed. "And certainly not with Charles or your mother."

The blue hair shows up again a week later. Scott comes down to breakfast, followed by his similarly hued classmates, and Hank shoots suspicious looks Alex's way all through breakfast.

"What did you do?" she asks, that afternoon, when they're in her lab and he's contemplating his chances of locking the door and talking her into something entirely inappropriate for teachers.

"Nothing you can prove," he says, tucking his chin against her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You know, we have a pretty fantastic kid on our hands, right?"

"Mmhmm," she hums, laughing. "Maybe you should write a book."