For a while now Nathan had asked his dad to get him a pet, and for a while now, Scott's answer had always been the same.

"No."

Nathan threw his head back with a groan. "Why not?

"Because," Scott said. "A pet is a lot of work, and to be frank, Krakoa doesn't exactly have veterinarians. We'd have to go out of the country."

"We have portals to go wherever we want to!" Nathan exclaimed. "We live on the moon! We have to leave for things anyway!"

"Says the one who's too lazy to get up and pick up his socks from the floor." Scott recorded, arms crossed.

Nathan snorted indignantly. "If I had a dog, I'd train him to pick up my socks."

"The answer is still no Nathan."

Nathan sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Fine." he said and proceeded to do what any kid or teen in his situation would do.

He asked his mom.

"I think that's a lovely idea Nathan, I'll see what we can do." came Jean's reply.

Nathan had caught her cooking in the kitchen, a time of day that Sort wasn't allowed near her due to her… tendencies. If Scott even dared to offer his help in her kitchen he would receive a crack from her wooden spoon.

Nevertheless, it was the perfect time of day for Nathan.

Nathan pumped his fist into the air, "Sweet!"

Jean smiled as she stirred. "I think a dog would be a great addition to the family. Maybe I'll go with you to different pounds tomorrow."

"What's this I hear about a dog?"

At the sound of his voice, Nathan nearly leapt out of his shoes. "What the hell?"

Scott had a way of appearing at inconvenient times for his son. It was unnerving. Especially when he was obscured by shadow. Even if the lighting in the house was fairly bright, there seemed to be an overcast hiding Scott's features until he stepped forward.

"I already told Nathan we're not getting a pet." Scott says. He had his arms folded behind his back in an imposing way. Like a war general about to bite your head off for not standing straight.

Jean had raised a brow. "Oh really?"

She looked at Nathan.

"I had to get mom's input." he excused.

His parents simply stare him down in response.

Nathan shrank into himself, averting his gaze downward. He racked his mind with things to say before changing the subject. "Hey dad, aren't you not allowed in the kitchen?"

"Don't pin this on me."

"Alright that's enough." Jean sighed. "Scott, get the boy a pet." she said, and before Scott could utter his protest, she continued. "No buts. Get him a pet Scott, he really wants one. I'm not asking."

Scott closed his mouth with a slight grimace. "Fine."

And that was the end of that. The next day Scott popped into a pet store and returned home with the family's new addition. Funnily enough, with the glasses he was widely recognized as Cyclops in the States and with the new reputation for mutants, the shop owner let him have anything he wanted for free. So long as he leaves as soon as possible.

Nice guy.

Of course, Scott paid anyway by leaving the money on the counter and departing. Upon returning home, he felt good about himself.

"Dad, what the hell is that?" Nathan had asked when he saw his dad enter.

"It's your pet that your mom made me get for you." Scott replied.

"It's a goldfish."

"Isn't it? Look—" Scott placed the fish bowl onto the counter and pointed into it. "It even has one eye. You could name it after me."

"Dad that's lame."

"What, the fish or naming it Cyclops?" Scott asked.

Nathan scoffed and rolled his eyes with contempt. "Both." he said.

"I think that this is a win." Scott remarked with a smile. "You get to have a pet, I get peace of mind, and Fishclops here takes up less space than a dog does. You don't even have to walk him."

"I am not calling that thing Fishclops."

"But he looks like a Fishclops, doesn't he?"

Scott bent over to peer into the fish bowl and watched Fishclops swim around in circles. The decorations and gravel inside were all sorts of clashing on the account of everything looking red to him. Something that could probably be easily fixed by Jean later but Nathan was keen on not keeping Fishclops.

"He looks like he's going to die in a week is what." Nathan says.

Scott lightly chuckled. "Oh son, if you're careful, Fishclops could last for a long time."

Nathan curled his hands into fist and tossed them into the air. "I'm not calling it Fishclops!" he shouted, prompting for his mother to drop in and see what's going on.

"Oh what a lovely little fish." she remarked. "Is this Nathan's pet?"

"I wanted a dog!"

Jean's expression softened. "He wanted a dog Scott."

"And for what? We go on missions and leave the dog here? That thing is going to end up being taken care of by Gabriel." Scott said.

Jean turned to her son. "That's true. It's okay Nathan, I think you'll like having a fish. Oh imagine if we had an indoor pond full of fish!" She clasped her hands together. "Be a good boy and take care of Fishclops, mommy wants to renovate her indoor garden."

On that note she left, leaving Scott and Nathan alone once more.

"Well you heard what she said." Scott handed the fish bowl to his son. "Take good care of him."

"Fine." Nathan grumbled and took the stupid fish to his room. He put it on top of his nightstand and stared at it angrily.

"Stupid fish." he hissed. "You could have been a dog. But my dad's cheap. Must've inherited it off of grandad."

That could have been true since on Nathan's birthday, Corsair had gifted the boy a signed and framed picture of himself. The picture itself now stood next to the fish bowl with its image refracted by the water.

Fishclops just swam idly, its single eye seemingly mocking Nate.

"Don't look at me like that." Nathan retorted. "You're just a stupid fish."

Fishclops turned away.

"Whatever."

Nathan grumpily sprinkled fish food into the bowl and watched as Fishclops sucked the little flakes in. The boy's sour expression quickly went from rigid to soft as he sighed.

"Maybe dad's right." he admitted to himself. "At least with a fish, he isn't that needy. That way I could still train."

Fishclops seemed to look at him reassuringly. It was probably in Nathan's imagination but he suddenly hated the fish a little less.

What a dork. He thought.

"Welcome to the family Fishclops, I guess that's your name now."