Scott and Jean, Wednesday evening

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott's frustration with the lack of results from the Peru mission bubbles over once he gets back to the suite, and Jean very patiently listens to him rant until he gets it out of his system - which he does with commendable speed, actually. The two of them then indulge in their own version of domesticity.


Growling under his breath, Scott stalked through the mansion on his way back to the suite, ignoring the slightly alarmed looks he got from a number of students. Waste of time, and what the hell was with Wanda blowing shit up? he thought, exasperated. He climbed the stairs to the third floor, running a hand through his still-damp hair. The shower had done him some good - they'd all been pretty sweat-sodden after hiking around in the jungle, but he still felt dehydrated.

Jean had tried to get to sleep, but despite how tired she was, her mind was still buzzing a bit to much, so she'd given it up, at least for the moment, and was curled up on the couch in one of Scott's shirts, reading through Haroun's latest results. It would be hard to say he was getting better at this stage, but the treatment was progressing as expected. And that meant he probably would get better, or at least have a chance.

"Well, that was a serious waste of time," Scott growled as he came in, closing the door behind him a bit more aggressively than was really necessary. "Not to mention Wanda trying to blow us both up."

Jean peered over the rims of her reading glasses. "Welcome back. What happened?"

"Nothing in the slightest bit useful, unless the encrypted files turn out to contain something valuable." And he wasn't that much of an optimist. "The place was ninety-five percent of the way stripped."

"Ah... Yes, that would be... frustrating. Although with less chance of yet another patient for us downstairs." Jean swung her legs down off the couch so he could sit down if he wanted, although he rather looked as though he'd rather pace and vent.

Scott did just that, completely heedless of the fact that she was sitting there in nothing but one of his shirt. "I really thought we had a chance of getting a step ahead here," he snapped irritably. "And Wanda! I have no idea what went wrong with Wanda's powers but she lost control, or something... then we had a guard tackling Betsy. In handcuffs, and he decided to tackle her! I should have broken his nose."

"Or she should have," Jean offered mildly, having sparred often enough with the other telepath to know that Elisabeth was more than capable of taking care of herself. "Can you figure out some training sessions to try and find out what's happening with Wanda?"

"I'll have to. Can't have her blowing up buildings by accident. That's not conducive to a high mission survival rate," Scott said with a certain savage humor. "I wonder if she was channeling Nate? I should have asked her."

Sighing softly, Jean set her files on the table and considered Scott closely. "Are you just frustrated about this mission, or...?" she asked.

Scott stopped, took a deep breath, and rubbed at his temples for a moment. "It's been one of those weeks, and I said I wasn't going to let that get ahead of me," he said, much more calmly. "Damn it."

"We're not more than a week or so into September and already I'm planning on writing the whole month off as 'one of those months'. I think it asking a bit too much of yourself to expect to not get worked up about it."

Scott took another deep breath, then let it out. Then came over and sat down beside her on the couch, a faint, wry smile tugging at his lips. "Let me try that again. How was your day, dear? I got to level a bioweapons lab."

Crossing her legs, Jean smiled at him. "That sounds like it would have been fun. Things have been quiet here, and quiet is good. My pager hasn't gone off all day."

"I would have traded. Quiet is better than demolitions work, although that was fun in a way." Scott caught himself rubbed at his temples again, then made himself stop. "Actually took off my visor to do it."

Jean's eyebrows lifted of their own accord. "Ah, so no hyperbole when you said you got to level the lab, then."

"Yeah," Scott said, his smile turning a bit odd as he remembered Betsy's reaction. "Left me feeling a little lightheaded, but we left the place unusable for anything in the future. Just in case they ever contemplated coming back to it..."

"Definitely get some time in outside tomorrow," Jean said. "If nothing else, it might help your mood."

"I ought to drag you out with me to bask if you're off-shift, too," Scott pointed out, finally recognizing the fact that she was wearing one of his shirts. The smile turned appreciative. "There are a limited number of days left in which you can show off the bathing suit outside, after all. And I'd hate to deprive the young male population of the school of one last ogling opportunity."

"Only if you promise to make sure I don't sleep through my alarm. Although a nap in the sun sounds wonderful just about now."

Scott reached out for her hand, then brought it to his lips, kissing it. "You look a little more rested than you did," he said quietly, glad.

Jean smiled at him softly. "Yes. The treatment is... it's doing what it ought to be doing. It's working. It will be slow, and the difficult part is still coming, but there's hope." And that gave them breathing room, and the chance to take the time to rest and eat and make sure they were doing it right.

"And all we need is a little," Scott murmured, his expression very distant for a moment before he snapped back to himself. He looked at what she was reading. "I came in here and broke your concentration, didn't I?"

"Yes," Jean said plainly, although she didn't sound upset. "But I was only doing this because I couldn't get to sleep. A little too wound up, I guess."

"You and me both. Did you eat?" Scott stopped, then shook his head, unable to help a laugh. "Listen to me. As if I've eaten in the last twelve hours. You're going to have to start smacking me upside the head when I come out with the hypocritical fussing."

Jean smiled at him. "No, no energy for that, and it's cute. Now." She quirked an eyebrow at him, suggesting with a look that if the stress kept on for as long as it was likely to, it wold not necessarily remain cute. "And yes, I ate. There's even left over spaghetti in the fridge, and sauce. I didn't think you'd stop for food when you got back."

He squeezed her hand, then released it, getting up. "I've really got to learn to eat on the plane," he said. "I mean, we pack MREs in the supplies for a reason, after all. But there always seems to be too much to do, or I forget..."

Jean stretched out her legs, propping her feet on the table, careful not to set them on her files. "I think whoever was flying would go into shock if they heard you'd actually remembered to eat, and I'd rather they not crash the plane. Also, MREs, not exactly the most tasty of options," she said as he headed into the kitchen.

"True, but they do provide fast energy, and half the time lately I wind up crashing so hard from adrenalin that I think it would be a good habit to take up. The eating MREs, I mean," Scott said, rummaging through the fridge.

"Good point. And I'm not saing anything about how eating in general would be a good habit to take up." Jean watched him with a smile, enjoying the simple domesticity of the evening. Their life was a far cry from normal, but it had its moments.