Scott and Jean, Tuesday afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott and Jean make a run for the hills, quite literally. (Okay, the Adirondacks.) They're perhaps just a little silly (with relief) while in the process of packing.


Moira and the others had been very understanding when she told them she was taking a holiday. They'd been less certain when she said she didn't know when she was leaving, or when she was coming back, and Hank and she had had a Talk afterwards, because he was worried. And somehow 'Scott is too responsible to let me run away' had apparently not been a very reassuring answer. But they knew that she and Scott were taking off soon, and she had promised to give them at least five minutes notice to cover her shift. Possibly even ten. Her 'God, I need a vacation' refrain had mutated into 'I am getting a vacation, I am', at least in part to get her to keep going.

Jean was spending less and less time out in the public areas of the school. She would finish her classes, or her medlab shift, or office hours, and then just come back to their room. And, given how hard Scott was working, usually she was there on her own for a while. So it was surprising to come back from her latest shift and sense him working busily in the bedroom.

"Oh, good," he said crisply as she walked into the bedroom, blinking at him. "You're here. Help me out? I'm a little uneasy about packing for you - I don't want to forget anything you might need while we're away."

The tired look shifted into a blinding smile in an instant. "Packing? Packing, we can leave and there will be not-here time packing?" She eyed the suitcase on the bed. He'd quite wisely gone with the smaller one. It probably wouldn't be possible to run away for too long with just the one suitcase.

"I even know where we're going. Nathan flagged me down in the hall and suggested a place - oddly enough," Scott said with a faint, wry smile, "it's where he and Moira ran to when they did what we're doing, back in the spring of last year. A little inn in the Adirondacks."

"Nate suggested it?" Jean asked, sounding faintly suspicious even as she turned to the closet, toiletries and the other sundries floating over to the bed and lining up to be packed while she perused clothing options. "Mountains are good. I can do mountains. Sweater..."

"I gather Moira's been noticing how rundown you've been looking, and he and she had a little chat." Scott looked up at her, the smile growing a little, turning mischievous. "Damned managing older couples, hmm?"

"Indeed. And they're both the pushy sort. Bad combination." She considered the closet more careful and pulling out clothes, adding, "And they may have been worried that you would fall for my feminine wiles and I'd convince you to keep running. Which is silly. Really. I'm not nearly that convincing." The look she shot him over her shoulder, with the little pout and the big eyes, begged to differ.

"Nathan told me it's a nice place. All the amenities, but cosy. And good food." Scott's expression turned wry again as he turned his attention back to his own suitcase. "Our room is already reserved. Moira's doing, he claims. I would say something about a conspiracy, but that would be redundant."

"They are sneaky," she agreed, dumping a collection of outfits on the bed to be folded. "Very sneaky. Well then, how long is the reservation?"

"Five nights." Scott's hands stilled as he stared down at the contents of his suitcase for a moment. "I yelped at Nate, who pointed out that I was not the irreplaceable man and threatened to beat the crap out of me in our next Danger Room session if we came back early."

Jean looked at him for a second, then moved to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around him and leaning against his shoulder. "Thank you," she said simply.

Scott chuckled softly. "For being a great big chicken?"

"For admitting you need this, too."

"Ah. The honesty thing." He pulled away a little, enough to be able to turn around and hug her properly. "I'm giving the stiff upper lip a rest for a little while, yes," he confessed softly. "I'm sure Charles would be choking on his tea if he could hear this. Or beaming at me."

She laughed slightly. "It's just as well he's not here to hear you, then. The beaming gets unnerving at times."

Scott kissed her temple, just a quick brush of his lips, and then stepped back. "Let's get the packing done and hit the road," he suggested. "We won't make it there in time for dinner, but apparently their room service is more than respectable."

She smiled, turning to concentrated on her suitcase. "Quick packing and TK practice, all at once..." Shirts and skirts began folding themselves as a pair of shoes floated out to nestle into the bottom of the suitcase.

Scott paused a moment to admire her increasing control. "You're reminding me more and more of Nathan, you realize."

Jean's look was very wry as she said, "I am much prettier than Nathan."

Scott's grin was sudden and huge. "You know what I mean. But if that was fishing for a compliment..."

"Well, you have just compared me to a hulking forty-something scruffy ex-mercenary. Flowery compliments might be a good idea." Jean grinned back.

"Well, then. You outshine the sun, moon, and stars, even when you badly need a vacation. The rest of the time, I'm glad I wear sunglasses 24/7."

Jean giggled. "Very well done, yes, thank you." The last of her things settled into the case and she moved to zip it closed.

"Well, I've only been practicing Jean-compliments in my head since I was sixteen years old, remember," Scott said innocently. "If I hadn't gained a certain skill by now..."

"The highlight had to be the summer after your freshman year when you came up with some bizarre comparison between me and the energy output ratio of some engine. I didn't understand it, and asking would have embarrassed us both, given you probably didn't realize you were projecting..."

Scott nearly dropped his shaving kit, for how hard he was laughing. I think I need to sit down... He flopped gracelessly on the bed, choking with laughter. "You... sneak! Sneaky, sneaky woman..."

Jean giggled. "I'm not a snea... ok, well, yes, I am a sneak. But... but... That was definitely not my fault. I can not help if you thought really loudly when you were thinking about me."

"Oh, sure. Sure! The typical telepath's excuse..." He could not stop laughing. His sides were beginning to hurt. Stress release.

"You wrote bad engineering poetry about me in your head! I couldn't not listen! At least I never told... At least I only told 'Ro once."

"JEAN!"