Jean and Scott, Wednesday evening

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

After the Blackbird arrives home, Scott goes to take his medicine. (I actually managed to type that with a straight face.)


Jean's pencil moved across the paper, jotting down notes off her
computer, but when she heard the footsteps in the hall she glanced up,
reaching out to feel a remarkably down-in-the-mouth Scott as he
entered the room. "Hi," she said, eyes narrowing as she noticed he was
wearing his visor in place of his normal glasses. "What's up?" The
pencil was set down as she stood to greet him.

Scott leveled the woeful look at her, without shame, if with a certain
amount of wry humor. "The girl we went to pick up? Her brother blew me
into a wall. Literally." He came over and kissed her cheek. "What is
it with people and knocking me out lately? Present company excluded,
of course... you've always knocked me out."

Oh, woeful look. Full of woe. In need of cuddling. But first... "Yes,
but I prefer to do it in the good way. Did you hit your head?" She
tugged on his hand, pulling him in the direction of one of the
examining tables.

"I must have, but I don't feel concussed," Scott said, having been
concussed often enough that he did know what it felt like. "The
brother had... super-speed, and explosive punches. I wound up getting
up close and personal with his mother's china cabinet. Hence the
cuts," Scott said wryly, letting himself be drawn towards the exam
table. "None of which are on my head, though, so I think I'm good."

"All right. Let's just..." She pulled out her handy-dandy little
light-shiny-thing (as Hank called it), "Follow the light, please, and
then off with the shirt."

"Any excuse," Scott said, but obediently followed the light. "I
figured I ought to stop down here and let you check me over before I
went looking for my spare glasses." He made a face. "Broke the glasses
and took out my com... I'm glad I did have Sam and Kurt along."

"Yes, but if you're going to give me such good excuses, it
takes all the fun out of it. The girl's brother blew you into
the wall? Did you bring him back, as well, then? Is it a related
power, like you and Alex, or not?" They'd gotten the girl's
preliminary medical records when the transfer was finalized, but there
weren't any notes about her powers yet, and she would need a full
check up soon.

"The girl's a pyrokinetic. Angie's getting her settled in as we speak,
I think. I'm not absolutely sure about the brother's mutation - we
didn't stick around long enough to clarify that. And we certainly
didn't bring the little bastard home with us." Once she was done with
the light, he pulled off his shirt, wincing, careful not to catch any
of the bandages. "I am probably all different shades of black and
blue."

"Another pyrokinetic. I'm sure John will be less than pleased. And you
have managed to amass quite an impressive collection of bruises
and..." She paused as she noticed the fresh blood on some of the
bandages. "Scott, some of these are still bleeding. I think you're
going to need stitches, or new bindings at the least." Fingers gentle,
she carefully started unwinding the wrappings in question.

"I figured a couple of them probably needed a stitch or two. I'm
half-sorry that we weren't wearing leathers - wouldn't have gotten cut
up at all if I'd been in my uniform." Then again, the sight of strange
people in black leather would probably have made Fabrice's reaction
worse, and wouldn't that have been entertaining. "And she actually
generates flame, I gather. Tricky... makes her closer to Shiro or
Jubilee than to John, really."

"Interesting. We'll have to see what Moira says. Can she control the
fire the same way as John, do you know? And wearing leathers for a
student pickup... Well." She smiled faintly. "That would also
have been interesting, I'm sure. Hold still a sec." Jean turned to get
the local anesthetic and the needle and thread out of a cabinet.

"We'll set up some tests in a couple of days. I think she'll need the
time to calm down a little." Scott smiled a little, remembering how
Eliane had torn into her brother. He watched Jean gathering the
necessary supplies, and a sigh escaped him. "I am getting really tired
of trying to reason with people and winding up..." He trailed off,
shaking his head. Thinking of Carter Ryking. And Pete... although that
hadn't quite been the same thing, had it?

The shot of anesthetic applied, she stepped back to let it work. "It's
not that you're actually all that bad at reasoning with people, you
know," Jean told him. "It's just that you're bad at choosing who to
try to reason with. Or, more accurately, life is very good at pushing
you into those situations."

"Or I'm naive, and think that reason can actually resolve any of these
situations life pushes me into," Scott said, knowing he sounded
cranky. Jean was giving him that look. "I'm not a diplomat, Jean, or a
mediator, or a psychologist... and every time I stop to think about
that, I start wondering just why the hell I try."

Jean felt the slight lowering of stress in his mind as the anesthetic
kicked in, and picked up her needle. "You try because it's in the Good
Guy's Handbook. 'The Good Guy always tries the other way, first, even
when he knows it's not going to work.' If we stop trying, we stop
being the good guys and become too much like the people we don't like
very much." Her hands were steady as she stiched him up, and he really
only did need a very few stiches which were finished quickly. "There
you go," she said, picking up some new bandages and starting to wrap
him back up.

"In other words, naive," Scott grumbled. "Or at least, idealistic
without the ability to back it up." He paused, vaguely troubled by how
it sounded when put that way. Jean finished bandaging the cuts on his
arm and he reached for his shirt - it was an extra he'd taken from the
locker on the plane, so it was intact. No telltale holes or
bloodstains. "Ignore me," he said dismissively, mustering a smile.
"The kid's safely here, we didn't have to hurt her brother."

"How about I don't," she said, leaning against the examination table,
not so covertly watching him get dressed again. "You're not being
naive, Scott, and there are a lot of times when none of us save
Charles would be able to talk our way out of the problem. But we still
try. That's the point. The Good Guy says 'stop or I'll shoot' and the
Bad Guy just blows your head off." Ok, it was an extreme
simplification, but they both knew that so it worked to make her
point.

No, the Good Guy says 'Let's sit down and talk about this' and gets
blown into the nearest wall, Scott thought, then squelched the
thought. He was being self-indulgent and a little irrational, that was
all. You tried, even when it didn't work, or there was no point to any
of this.

There was a very small, ashamed part of himself that was also
wondering why he always had to be the reasonable one. Why it was him
who tried, and got knocked into walls or the like for his pains, and
yet when he needed to be unreasonable, when the Scott-act was just too
hard, he was the one who was always letting down the people around
him. It was enough to make one a little resentful.

Jean frowned slightly, a little worried, then sighed and smiled
slightly. Pushing herself up onto the table next to him she slid an
arm around his waist, careful to keep it away from his bruises.
"Right, let me try this again. Hey, love. Rough day? You look upset.
Want to talk about it, or should I skip to the bit where I indulge my
girl desire to pamper the wounded boy?"

Scott cracked a smile, almost despite himself. "You're ruining a good
brood, you know." He leaned in and kissed her again, a little more
lingeringly this time. "On the other hand, that's the sort of not-fun
that ought to be spoiled." A note of wryness entered his voice again
as he went on. "Especially given how comparatively minor the reasons
for the brood are. I do have a sense of proportion around here
somewhere. Really."

"You got blown into a wall, I'd say let the sense of proportion go for
a bit. You've got at least half a day of no-guilt pouting and freebie
pampering coming your way. More if you play your cards right. And I
much prefer the 'woe-is-me, little pout' to the full on brood. It will
get you much farther, all I'm saying."

Scott's smile turned whimsical, but he quickly composed his features,
donning a very subdued sorrowful look. Woe is me, coming right
up... "I play cards really well," he volunteered with a sad little
sigh.

"Ohhh," Jean said, almost automatically cuddling into him. "You are
really, dangerously good at that." She glanced up at the clock on the
wall. "I've still got a little bit of time left on my shift. Want to
hang around here and worry any of the kids who come in? I'll give you
cookies..."

The woeful look cracked into a broad, half-involuntary grin. "Worry
them? What did you have in mind? And are these metaphorical cookies,
or real ones?"

Jean grinned back at him. "What, you don't think a woeful looking
head-teacher being cosseted by the doctor and plied with cookies - of
course they're real. Somebody's been baking and I raided the kitchen
before I came down - wouldn't worry the kids? They worry pretty easy."

"About me?" Scott asked with a snort, and then bit his lip. "Okay,
backing up five seconds there... that's a wonderful plan, Jean, and
let's get about implementing it?" He turned the woeful look back on.
"Although I'm a little more interested in the cosseting than the
cookies, I have to admit. Unless it was Lorna baking."

"Worried in general," she said, then leaned over to kiss him. "No idea
who it was, but they're pretty good. But cosseting definitely comes
first."

"Mmm. I like your priorities." And once she was done her shift, they
could go hide in their brand-new suite and lock the door, Scott
thought with a certain amount of contentment.

Jean smiled, glad his thoughts had shifted into a more positive
direction. "Thought you would..."

"I really don't deserve you," Scott murmured, and kissed her again.
"Ow," he said a bit petulantly as he drew back. "I think actually, a
soak is in order when I go upstairs. Although I suppose I'll have to
make sure I keep the arm out of the water."

The 'ow' got him another careful hug. "Take the bandages off and I'll
rewrap them afterwards, and if they've stopped bleeding, or mostly
stopped, by the time you are ready for the bath you can soak the arm."

Scott smiled. "First you bandage my arm, then you bandage my ego," he
teased. "Woman of many talents, you are."

"I live to serve," Jean said with a grin. "Or, something. Besides,
it's in my best interest to keep you happy and healthy, seeing as I'm
so fond of having you around."