Jean and Scott, Friday

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean and Scott go boating. They do a little sweet, a little serious and a little silly. (Reposted to the correct journal)



The best thing about motorboats, Jean decided, was that it was completely possible for Scott to steer with just one hand. Which meant his other arm was where it ought to be; wrapped around her waist, reminding her he was there and she was safe. Jean was doing better about water, and constantly pushing at it, forcing herself to face it, but the reassurance helped.

"All the little coves," Scott said, intrigued as the boat moved at what would have been, if it had been a person, a gentle stroll a hundred feet offshore. "You'd think from town that the trees grow right down to the waterline, but they don't."

"See, we did end up by a beach, even if it's not as warm as Fiji." Although today was glorious, with the brilliant sunlight catching on the changing leaves and turning the shore into a veritible riot of color.

Scott grinned unrepentantly. "Bora Bora," he said, firmly, his arm tightening around her. "And don't make fun of my fixation on Bora Bora."

"Aw, take all the fun out of it." The clouds were doing that white, fluffy thing which contrasted gorgeously with the deep blue sky. Jean was entranced. "Personally, I'm expecting us to continue suggesting Fiji and Bora Bora to each other forever, and whenever we actually go we'll end up in the carribeans."

"Wouldn't that be just like us." Scott steered the boat a little closer to shore, his expression almost whimsically contemplative. "You know where I'd like to go someday? Iceland. When all of its inhabitants haven't been turned into superhumans, mind you."

There was an older man, probably retired, fishing. His mind was lost in the simple contemplation of his line and the quiet slap of water on his boat. It was peaceful. Pillowing her head on Scott's shoulder, Jean said, "Iceland could be nice. Anything in particular you'd want to see?"

"Not really. The landscape was just... dream-like. I couldn't get over it, whenever I had a moment to pause and look around, while we were there..." Scott smiled. "Not that I had many of those. Damn, that was a crazy day..."

"I read the mission report. It was fascinating. But going back and taking some time to admire ought to be doable. Although I warn you now, if we start planning trips we never take, I will get cranky."

He gave her a quick, apologetic look. "Maybe I ought to minimize the reveries, then?"

"No, that I don't mind," Jean said. "I just... I just don't want to end up one of those women who plans holidays to far off places and dreams big dreams and never manages to get away because of the work."

"The ironic thing is that we probably see a wider range of places than your average couple," Scott said wryly. "It's just that we're generally in and out with no time to see the sights."

"It's part of the pitch, isn't it? Travel to exotic locations, meet new and 'interesting' people, and then beat them up? Not really a proper vacation, no." She half shrugged, feeling remarkably ambivelent about the whole thing just now.

"I'm sorry." Scott kept his arm around her, but turned his attention back to the water ahead of him. "You're not really in the mood for jokes about the job just yet."

"Hmmm," Jean said, considering it. "No, I guess I'm not." She breathed in deeply, letting the clean air of the lake fill her lungs. "It feels... inescapable. No matter how far we go, we'll end up back at the job. And, right now, I don't know if that's good or bad."

"I don't think it's either," Scott said after a moment. "I think it's just... all-encompassing." He glanced sideways at her. "Hard to see beyond it, one way or the other. Possibly because we've been looking at it for so long."

"Right now I'm still having trouble believing there is anything beyond it. Beyond the team and the lab and the school... But this helps," she said, somehow meaning everything from the time away, to the breeze ruffling her hair, to even just his arm around her.

"We need a hobby." He grinned at the look she gave him. "No, we seriously do. Ballroom dancing? Crocheting? Bungee jumping?"

Jean snorted. "Somehow, I don't think we need to seek out our thrills. And I'm having a lot of trouble imagining you crocheting. Somehow the image of you and doillies just doesn't mesh."

"I could stand the dancing," Scott said irrepressibly. "Okay, maybe not ballroom... but I hear there's a place in Salem Center that does weekly drop-in tango lessons."

Oh now, that was a tempting image... "I think you would be dangerously sexy if you could tango. This clearly must happen."

Scott gave her a one-armed hug. "Then we'll do that," he said firmly. "No 'maybes'." He gave her an appreciative look, forming the image in his mind of her in a tangoing-appropriate dress.

Jean chuckled, then added the cliched rose clenched between the teeth to his mental construct and himself in a similarly flamboyant outfit. "I shudder to think what the kids will say."

"You know, we keep saying things like that. I think that speaks to a suppressed desire to break out in some sort of wild behavior and shock them all."

"Well, really, repressing something like that isn't healthy," Jean said, mischief sparkling in her eyes. "I'm sure Charles would agree that we should not repress."

"Psychologically damaging, yes. We need to let it out at the first opportunity." Scott was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "Tango lessons. And possibly food fights in the dining hall. What do you think?"

"I think I'd kick your ass in a food fight, and that we could get 'Ro and Hank and Al to join us, no problem." And wouldn't that make the kids stare.

"I tihnk that's definitely called for, then," Scott said. "The sight of their teachers rubbing mashed potato in each other's hair will be immensely educational."

The laugh which had been fighting to escape finally did, and the only explanation she could manage was, "Hank has a lot of hair..." before collapsing against him in paroxysms of laughter.