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"Matthew swore!"

"I didn't!"

"He did!"

Alex looked up from the table. On Charles's advice, he was reviewing his notes from the previous semester to keep the information fresh in his mind. It felt boring, but Charles could be annoying.

Persuasive.

Charles could be persuasive.

"Matty's swearing now?" Alex asked. Ororo and Scott had raced into the kitchen with their argument already in swing, but he got the basics.

Scott had not been late that day. He wasn't grounded and the only consequence he faced was a concerned look from Charles. So Alex could understand why Ororo wanted to get him in trouble now.

That, and it was how siblings worked.

"I swear sometimes," Scott retorted. Then, looking to Ruth, he added, "But not this time."

"Did so too," Ororo insisted.

"Shucking," he stressed. "I said I was shucking corn. Like Ruth told me to." He looked like that was what he had been doing. Thin, fair strands of cornsilk stuck to his shirt and fingers.

"I have not heard this word before," Ruth admitted, uncertain. She told Scott to peel the corn. He didn't correct her.

"It's called shucking," Alex chimed in. "Who are you gonna trust?"

He and Scott said it at the same time: "I'm from Nebraska."

"Plus," Scott continued, "it makes no sense for me to say… that other thing."

"Yeah, it's corn, not a pomegranate," Alex added.

Scott gave him an exasperated look.

"Kiwi?"

"Alex!"

"Are you finished, by the way?" Ruth asked. "With the whatever-we-are-calling-it that I asked you to do."

Scott nodded and went to retrieve a bowl of de-husked corn.

"Nicely done."

"It's corn," Ororo huffed.

"Corn is delicious," Alex said.

"It's corn."

"It is historically appropriate," Ruth offered. "This is a New World crop, it is from Central America originally. This is a holiday for celebrating the Americas, it is not?"

Scott and Alex traded glances. Neither of them had heard of the 4th of July in those terms.

"They did not invent a new country physically," Ruth reasoned. "Without this land to conquer the Pilgrims would have died at sea, there would have been no United States anyway."

"That… actually makes a lot of sense," Alex agreed.

"Well… yeah… but…" Scott wasn't completely comfortable with it. He had grown up hearing at school how great America was and while he had his doubts about some aspects of it—like every cop, teacher, and social worker in Omaha, and a few specific individuals—he believed in freedom and liberty. Ruth wasn't exactly disagreeing with that, but the way she talked about it did make him a little uncomfortable.

"So… not in trouble for swearing?" Ororo asked.

"Not this time," Ruth replied. "Sorry. But keep an ear open." Then she laughed. "Ear. Because it is corn."

"That's unbelievably lame," Alex said. "I would expect that from Specs over there, but you, Ruth?"

"Specs?" Scott asked.

Alex shrugged. "You wanna make X-Man one day, right? You'll need a codename. We can spell it with an x. S-p-e-x. No? I'll keep thinking, I'm great with these."

Ruth raised an eyebrow. She was the field leader of the X-Men and had not stepped down after Sean's death, and although she had not been there long she had heard a lot of stories. "Did Hank not strangle someone after you called him Beast?"

"Not to death…"

"I love you, Ruth," Scott said. Most people couldn't one-up his brother—and he didn't want most people to one-up his brother, Alex was his to humiliate (or, usually, vice versa)—but Ruth was his mom, and Alex's teammate, so it was okay.

Ruth ruffled his hair. "Of course you do. And speaking of Hank?"

"Right!"

"And Alex, you are cooking, go cook."

Alex nodded. Both he and Scott left. Scott had gone to give Hank a fifteen-minute warning for dinner (though that was never a guarantee he would show up) and Alex, who insisted on 4th of July, was manning the grill. It was manly, he insisted.

Repeatedly.

Ororo rolled her eyes at Alex. She had followed him outside and was now watching him poke at corn and burgers. The burgers had been Alex's idea. If he had his way, he would never eat anything else.

"It's still cooking," she told him, pushing the hair out of her face.

"Grilling!" Alex corrected. "It's manly."

"You're like this close to wearing an apron."

"Nope. Manly."

"Neanderthals cooked this way."

"Exactly! Alex manly Neanderthal!"

He had been prepared to continue, but the line reduced Ororo to helpless laughter. (Which was too bad, in Alex's opinion; he was ready to beat his chest like a gorilla if necessary.)

They had not heard Charles approach. His voice was amused, well-meaning, and thoroughly professorial as he said, "The Neanderthal is extinct, Alex. They were wiped out by Homo sapiens."

Alex snickered.

"By people!"

"Aren't we people, Professor?" Ororo asked.

"Of course we are."

"But not Homo sapiens."

There was an awkward moment in which Ororo tried to sort through this. She held her hair back this time. It was long enough that she used to wear a ponytail, but with her broken arm, 'brushed' was the best she could do.

Then Charles said, "Well, we're quite new, we weren't around to wipe out the Neanderthal."

"Would've done it faster than Homo sapiens," Alex chimed in.

Charles gave him a disapproving look.

Alex looked sufficiently chastised, but he argued anyway: "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Ororo." Ruth motioned her over. While Alex and Charles held a conversation that was more body language than substance, Ruth brushed Ororo's hair and wove it into two braids. Ororo shook her head to test them. The ties battered her ears, but held strong.

It had been her idea to have the Fourth of July as a picnic. She didn't know the word, but when the others were discussing the trouble of a Fourth of July in a formal dining room, Ororo described it—when you put a blanket on the grass…

She liked the word, though. Picnic. There was something playful about it.

When they had the idea, slowly everyone had the same realization. You could tell by who looked awkward. Of course it was Ruth who asked if Charles would feel out of place. When he assured them he would not, Alex suggested it was because Charles would feel like a lord among peasants and thus totally at home.

Scott and Hank arrived not long after that. Scott carried a canvas bag, but Charles was a bit more concerned by what Hank carried: "Hank, is that a fire extinguisher?"

"Yes."

"Hank, why is that the fire extinguisher?"

Hank didn't have a chance to explain.

Ororo had used this opportunity to sneak up behind Scott and was about to pummel him with her cast. She was an exceptional sneak, but Scott knew her too well and had expected this. He spun around and moved to toss her. At the last second, he paused. He disliked sparring with Ororo at the best of times. Now she had a cast!

She whacked his ribs with it.

"Ow! Ow!" A litany of obscenities followed.

"Would some ice help?" Scott asked.

Ororo swore at him in Arabic. He had no idea what he said, but was fairly certain he could pluck an Arabic obscenity out of any conversation now.

"Would some ice cream help?"

"No, it will not, and you are eating dinner in ten minutes anyway. Ice cream later," Ruth decreed.

Ororo gave her most imploring look.

Ruth rolled her eyes. "Do you know, I think I can understand this holiday because I am Israeli. We threw off British rule, too—of course the British were mainly serving as peacekeeping forces and not exploiting the country for the three G's. Which are?"

"Gold, God, and Glory," Scott supplied. It was something they had talked about in history class, what motived New World exploration.

Ororo stuck out her tongue at him.

He gave her a gently superior look—and flipped her the bird behind his back.

Charles, meanwhile, agreed with Ruth, "I'm afraid the British have historically been a bit tyrannical."

"Mm. You are a tyrant," she murmured.

Ororo and Scott glanced at each other. She rolled her eyes and his expression suggested he did the same. Yes, it was a holiday, but there was no excuse for parents to flirt! Honestly!

Alex laughed. Scott and Ororo were closer to him so he was able to say, too softly for Ruth and Charles to hear, "Yeah, just imagine what they get up to when you're not looking."

Scott went pink. Ororo had a slightly different reaction and launched herself at Alex.

"What's going on?" Charles asked.

Ororo had knocked Alex to the ground, but she had the element of surprise. He struggled to get the upper hand—but they were about evenly matched.

"Little help?" Alex called. He was confident in his strength and trying not to hurt Ororo. She was just glad someone was sparring with her and had wholly thrown herself into it.

Scott, as the eldest sibling, saw that he had to get involved. He couldn't just let Alex and Ororo knock on each other. Besides, oldest meant strongest, and that had to be proved.

He pulled Alex off Ororo, knocked him to the ground, and knelt on his throat.

He grinned at Ororo.

She grinned back and sat on Alex's chest.

"Hey," Alex commented, "usually I'd have to pay for that sort of thing."

"Ugh! Pervert," Scott said.

"And there's Charles always saying I don't work at anything, it's not easy, you've got a very bony ass, Ororo."

"Yeah," Ororo said, decisive, "pervert."

She stood. Freed up, Alex did the same.

"That was a touch too far, I think," Charles commented.

"She sat on me!" Alex objected.

Ruth defused the situation: "Alex, food's burning."

He swore and returned to the grill.

"And I do not have a bony ass," Ororo added.

Alex, wisely, chose not to respond. He returned his attention to the grill and pretended there was no chaos around him.

The Xaviers did not, in general, engage in casual behaviors, so they did not have a picnic blanket. Old sheets had been suggested, at which point Charles pointed out that old sheets were not kept. Scott didn't like the idea of using anything good for a tablecloth; Ororo very much did. So they compromised: they laid out a tarp and a duvet cover on top of it.

"This is a posh picnic," Ororo proclaimed. She said 'posh' like it was a dirty word—a really dirty word, not like normal swearing, which she used like candy.

"No one's forcing you to eat," Alex retorted. With a grudge to address from before, he added, "You can just walk away from that burger that who cooked for you? Oh, right—"

She chucked a pickle at him.

"I like it," Scott said. "Besides, what picnic experience do you have?"

"What picnic experience do you have?" she retorted.

He shrugged. "Not a lot, but you're over-thinking it."

"So… do what?"

He tossed her a bag of chips. "Eat, drink, and be merry?"

Ororo went to pick up a burger to throw at him but Ruth interrupted the action with a string of rapid Arabic. The words were obscured to the rest of them, but the meeting was clear.

"Aaw, Ema!"

"Ororo!" Charles said, surprised and disapproving.

She looked genuinely confused and a bit hurt. Ororo and Charles looked at each other, not quite arguing, not quite sure where to go next.

Then Ruth began to laugh. "It is perfect," she announced, "he does not know what this means except 'kus ema'!" The phrase she snapped at drivers who cut her off and telemarketers who did not apologize and hang up immediately. "He thinks it is swearing."

It was enough for Ororo to start laughing.

Charles wasn't the only one confused. "Then what does it mean?"

"Ema means mom," Ruth explained.

Hell of a thing to scold someone for! Even Charles laughed at the misunderstanding.

"This 'eat, drink, and be merry' business," Ororo said. "When you say drink—"

"No," Ruth interrupted. She knew where this was going. "Alcohol is for adults."

"And Alex," Ororo pointed out.

Alex gestured to himself with a wounded, shocked, and utterly exaggerated look. He couldn't deny that he and Chris had been keeping to themselves as they went through beers, though.

"Adults and Alex," Ruth allowed.

He gasped. "A knife through my heart," he said. "Ruth, I'm not feelin' the love."

"I'm sorry. You're very grown up." She patted his hand.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Too hard?"

Usually Ruth was conscientious about her enhanced strength. Perhaps it was the relaxation of the day or that she and Alex, both with military histories, could be a little rough with each other, or a simple mistake.

"I'm not saying you bruised me," Alex said, "I'm just saying I'm surprised Charles trusts those hands with his—"

"Alexander Cole Summers!" Charles tried to be tolerant of antics, but there were limits. "Honestly, is the only way to end this nonsense to add to the house rules that mealtime is not the place to discuss genitalia?"

"I'm stopping," Alex said. He knew when he was close to crossing a line. "It was that Summers charm getting the better of me."

"Although I wouldn't mind if we introduced that rule," Hank offered.

"What we, furball?" Alex retorted through a mouthful of burger. Hank didn't make the house rules. Answering to Charles was one thing, that was fine, but Hank wasn't even older than Alex!

"The grown-ups," Hank said.

"What's genitalia?"

There was a moment of silence in which no one knew how to respond to Ororo's question, though the looks on their faces made Alex snicker. Of course it was reasonable. Who put that term on an English as a Second Language vocabulary list?

The reactions answered her question. "Oh!"

Alex cracked up.

The conversation shifted to recent history, rather a risk with a man out of time and a history teacher. Ruth supplied a summary of the previous decade's war with Korea as well as an update of the ongoing situation in Vietnam. None of it was particularly appropriate for the Fourth of July.

After a while, Scott began collecting plates and bringing them into the kitchen. Chris moved to help him, but Scott shook his head. "It's a probably your first Fourth of July in ages. You should relax."

"As should you," Chris pointed out.

"I relax better when I do stuff."

"That makes no sense," Ororo pointed out.

Alex reached for another beer.

Scott nudged his brother. "Don't you think you've had enough?"

"It's just beer, dude."

"But not just a beer."

"Scott, it's getting dark," Hank observed.

"I guess," Scott agreed. It was more early twilight than late.

"Dark enough."

Scott looked confused for a moment. Then he grinned. He ran inside with the plates, in such a hurry he fell on his way back and skinned a knee. He didn't care.

When he returned, Hank took four thin metal rods from a canvas bag. The first he handed to Scott, then fumbled with a lighter. Rather than catching fire, the rod began throwing sparks. Scott grinned at the firework in his hand.

"I want one!" Ororo cried.

Hank gave her a sparkler, too.

The sparklers turned into a party in themselves. Ororo and Scott raced with them, swished them through the air to draw designs, but they were no match for Ruth.

Hank had been clever enough to make many sparklers, enough to keep everyone in high spirits as darkness settled in.

Later, as the last of the holiday was cleared away and the others headed (or, in Alex's case, staggered) to bed, Scott sat on the stairs outside. He held the last of the sparklers in his hand, unlit.

"Aren't you coming in?" Charles asked.

Scott shook his head. "I, um… I'm going to wait until it gets really dark out," he explained. "Then I'll light it."

Charles considered that. He didn't believe Scott entirely, that much was clear from his expression. After a moment he said, "Don't stay out here all night."

"I won't."