Title: I'm a Cuckoo

Author: nyxie9

Disclaimer: I don't own the song or anything marvel!

Comic: x-men

Pairing/Characters: Sam Guthrie/OC

Rating: R overall

Summary: Part 2 of DCW. A wee bit of insight into Carrie.

"I'm happy for you

Now I know this hurt is poison

Too sharp to be bled

I'm sitting on my empty bed

On my empty bed

At night the fever grows it's pounding, pounding

I'd rather be in Tokyo

I'd rather listen to Thin Lizzy-oh

Watch the Sunday gang in Harajuku

There's something wrong with me, I'm a cuckoo"

I'm a Cuckoo

"Man, oh man. You know Carrie, you've got to be less impulsive. You've got to stop following your hormones around. Now, you gotta find a way to let that poor boy down." Carrington told herself as she walked home after closing up the restaurant. That Sam Guthrie was a sweet boy and she could hardly lie to him, his face was just too innocent. Innocent wasn't the right word because there was something in his features that said he'd seen more than his relaxed mannerisms let on. He didn't cover his past with that mask like she did but she could see the way he worked to blend them.

No, his face held kindness and offered understanding. Maybe that was reading into this situation too much, giving him too much credit or maybe she was laying her own wants and desires on him. But why, she asked herself? Why would she pin all this on Sam Guthrie? She didn't know him and she met a great number of people that she didn't feel this ways about. A pretty face and a set of polished manners weren't enough to make a man innocent or kind or understanding. She didn't know enough about him and she should have applied that patina of skepticism she did to everything else.

Sam was just a customer, just a man a stranger and just because he was nice didn't mean that's all he was. He came in with that black eye; there was a story behind that. He looked too youthful and well kept to be a brawler. Maybe someone found out he was sleeping with their wife…or husband. Sam looked like he could hold his own, tall and muscular, at least from what she'd seen. His kind smile and easy way with her could just be a cover for something.

But his eyes, perhaps it was those steel blue eyes that made her think she could trust him. There was something about them, something there that made her believe that he wasn't just a cleaver deceiver. But perhaps she was wrong about that too. He could still be a different kind of person than she thought. She came back to that black eye. Maybe it had been a woman, a girlfriend finding out he was lying or cheating or drinking or some other despicable trait. Maybe he was just a jerk under his American boy good looks and southern drawl.

She'd been fooled before. Her hand moved to touch her stomach, hovering over the ancient scars covered by polyester now. But she just didn't let her hand touch. They were faint now but a constant reminder, a constant reminder of why shouldn't get involved. But in the back of her mind, something told her that Sam wasn't like that. She suspected it didn't matter in the long run. She would either sleep with him or nothing more would manifest between them.

And of course, what would one night with someone who liked her, who wanted to spend time with her hurt? Paul may not have been a match for Sam but Carrie had a few tricks up her sleeves. She sighed, knowing that it was all pointless because if things got too uncomfortable, too personal she would pack it in, find a new town and a new life. It was easier that way because…she didn't want to think of what could go wrong. She shook her head, hating the way this man seemed to tie her up in knots, excited and dreadful at the same time.

Maybe Sam wouldn't even call her, although that didn't sound likely to her. The young man was persistent and hopelessly excitable, like a little blonde puppy. She liked the idea of someone being nice to her. A smile touched her lips and warmed her as she thought about Sam now. Not about how she could get hurt or what sort of things he was hiding. She indulged herself in thinking of his good qualities. He was handsome, well mannered, charmingly shy, surprisingly well read and he always smelled good. He was certainly a step up from the usual man she found and Sam might be food for a few laughs, a little roll in hay.

Yeah, he was a different sort of man than the one she found herself in the company of. "He's a nice guy, Carrie, he doesn't deserve to be treated the way you treat men. Maybe you could tell him you're gay or you got married or used to be a man or…" She let down her hair as she walked through the quiet streets. "Maybe the fact that you talk to yourself and lecture yourself on your way home. I wouldn't be interested in a crazy chick."

It only took her about 5 minutes to make her way to her apartment. And she was grateful; hoping to let herself relax with whatever pointless fodder was on the television and a cold gin and tonic. She dropped her purse and coat on the table by the door, locked the door behind her and toed off her shoes. Carrie's answering machine blinked evilly, taunting her. She could count on one hand the people who had her number. Her slender hand hovered over the button, considering for a moment letting it slide until the morning but there were only a handful that would leave a message meaning it was likely important.

"Hey, Care. It's Paul, just checking in to make sure you made it home okay so I'm hoping not to find your body in the diner tomorrow. I'm also hoping that you weren't distracted by that young Meatloaf Platter enough to take him back to your place. You deserve better and I'll just leave it at that before you tell me not to play dad to you. There's no need to call me back. I'll see you Sunday." Carrie smiled as she unzipped her dress. Paul was almost as protective as her brother but it was sweet to know there was someone who cared about her who didn't have to because they were blood.

Carrington knew Paul had been joking back at the diner about Sam killing her but it brought up mixed feelings in the woman. On one hand, she'd looked into Sam's eyes and while it wasn't a scientifically proven method, she didn't see a killer in them. And she'd looked into the eyes of killers before. She'd also been blinded by trust and assumptions before. She'd been killed before. Of course, Paul had no way of knowing any of this because she hadn't told him. She hadn't told anyone. It was a past that she had left behind and didn't care to go back to.

Slipping the dress off her body and throwing it in the laundry, she made her way to bathroom, wanting to wash off the smell of grease and meat off her body. Suddenly, traces of Sam's cologne touched her nose. She wished he wasn't so nice. She wanted to find some superficial problem with the guy she could use to not like him. Or at least something that made her think of him less often. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, just thinking about him, she thought as she removed her undergarments and turned on the water. After all, it didn't mean anything.

Carrington didn't wait for it to warm, stepping into the cold stream, actually enjoying the chilling effect before the water began to warm her. She washed her hair, scrubbed her face and started to wash herself quite methodically until Sam wove into her mind again as she thought about his large, warm hands, slightly calloused, as the soaped her body. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep the thoughts of the handsome Kentuckian out of her head. Why he had left suck an impression upon her, she didn't know, she couldn't tell.

She knew that thinking about the young blonde man was pointless with the way she kept people from getting close. She closed her eyes and saw Sam's, looking into hers with that easy smile and something more. There was always something more behind what was on the surface. Some people might have thought him slow just because he was southern but he was a well mannered and intelligent. Carrie didn't want to like him but she did. Her mind kept wandering back to him. Every time she tried to convince herself that it wasn't something she wanted, her mind whispered that it was.

The blonde tuned off the shower, sighing deeply. She didn't want to get involved with someone right then. At least she hadn't, for a long time but Sam…it was a circle for her. She kept coming back to and she thought if it lasted any longer without resolution she would go mad. If she questioned herself honestly and answered in the same way, she wanted to find out what more lay beneath the surface. She found herself wanting him, not physically but emotionally and as a friend. Why couldn't she accept that? She wrote people off with less deliberation so why couldn't she just accept that maybe this guy was worth a chance?

He was always very kind to her, always willing to offer her a soft smile or a hand and always wanting to discuss a book or music or something that made her feel like his friend. She never felt like he just saw her as an object and that…that was sort of frightening. Carrie wasn't sure what to do with that. She was used to being seen as just her body but not as a person and certainly not as a person that a nice man was interested in. But she knew that driving herself insane over this wasn't the solution. She consoled herself in knowing that perhaps nothing would come of this. Perhaps something would come of it and that might be okay too. It made her smile, the thought of something good coming out of this. She didn't know though if she was more afraid of things not working out or them not working out. But for now she would be okay with knowing that nothing had happened yet. And so her dreams of Sam that night didn't bother her.