log-lette: Scott and Jean
Jul. 24th, 2005 04:40 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-jeangrey.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsAfter these emails, Scott comes home and they are both the better for it.
Jean was curled up on the couch, waiting, glaring at the computer which was sitting on the table. Not that she didn't know that Scott was already on his way, but she was still blaming the computer for him not being here yet. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees as she pressed back into the couch, taking what little reassurance she could from its solidness.
She hated the bit where when you stopped moving the world fell apart. And she'd run out of things to keep doing a while ago.
The door of the suite opened and then closed again, admitting a pale and drawn Scott in Institute sweats. He'd gotted out of his bloodstained leathers and directly into one of the showers downstairs, after getting back and making sure Alison was safely in the medlab. They didn't seem quite warm enough. Funny.
Jean looked up at him, and the only thing keeping her from going to him and proving they were both still alive, even if only by holding onto him, was the thought that, really, he looked no more stable on his feet than she was and the bed would hold them both. "Thank you," she said, and the sentiment encompassed everything from leaving the files and coming back to simply existing in the world.
Scott took a deep breath, locking the suite door - very deliberately, and then coming by the couch, extending a hand. Jean took it and he hauled her to her feet, with a little more effort that he should have needed to expend. "Bed?" he suggested, his voice low and hoarse.
Jean wrapped her arms around him, taking just a second to breath him in, reassure herself that he was there, he was real and solid and that the memory of the blood covering both of them was just that - a memory. Then she nodded. "Bed."
Scott breathed in the familiar scent of her - she'd showered, too, of course, he could smell her shampoo - and wondered for a minute, dimly, what he ever would have done if...
... no. Not going there. "Bed is good," he said softly, then drew her in the direction of the bedroom door. Leaving his arms around her, where they belonged.
Jean was curled up on the couch, waiting, glaring at the computer which was sitting on the table. Not that she didn't know that Scott was already on his way, but she was still blaming the computer for him not being here yet. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees as she pressed back into the couch, taking what little reassurance she could from its solidness.
She hated the bit where when you stopped moving the world fell apart. And she'd run out of things to keep doing a while ago.
The door of the suite opened and then closed again, admitting a pale and drawn Scott in Institute sweats. He'd gotted out of his bloodstained leathers and directly into one of the showers downstairs, after getting back and making sure Alison was safely in the medlab. They didn't seem quite warm enough. Funny.
Jean looked up at him, and the only thing keeping her from going to him and proving they were both still alive, even if only by holding onto him, was the thought that, really, he looked no more stable on his feet than she was and the bed would hold them both. "Thank you," she said, and the sentiment encompassed everything from leaving the files and coming back to simply existing in the world.
Scott took a deep breath, locking the suite door - very deliberately, and then coming by the couch, extending a hand. Jean took it and he hauled her to her feet, with a little more effort that he should have needed to expend. "Bed?" he suggested, his voice low and hoarse.
Jean wrapped her arms around him, taking just a second to breath him in, reassure herself that he was there, he was real and solid and that the memory of the blood covering both of them was just that - a memory. Then she nodded. "Bed."
Scott breathed in the familiar scent of her - she'd showered, too, of course, he could smell her shampoo - and wondered for a minute, dimly, what he ever would have done if...
... no. Not going there. "Bed is good," he said softly, then drew her in the direction of the bedroom door. Leaving his arms around her, where they belonged.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}