Scott and Jean

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean gets home and is cranky but talks it out before being thoroughly distracted.



"Well," Jean said, coming through the door to their suite and not stopping to say 'hi' as she didn't quite storm into the bedroom, "we officially have our first case of the flu for the season and, having caught it this early it's likely we won't have the entirely primary class out for a week. The only thing I'm willing to allow Nate on the positive side of the ledger." There was more muttering from the bedroom, but given the low tone and unpleasant sound to it, it was likely not very nice and not something she much meant for anyone to hear. She'd been doing blood work tests for the last three hours and she was cranky.

Scott stayed sensibly silent for long enough to let her flounce - it was really sort of a flounce - into the bedroom and get out some more of her annoyance via muttering. Only then did he set his laptop on the coffee table and stand up, moving at a more temperate pace into the bedroom.

"I won't ask how your day was," he said lightly. "A, I don't want to get anything thrown at me, and B, I was feeling you seething down the link for most of the afternoon. As for flu, don't we give the little darlings the shot?"

"Oh, of course," Jean said, sighing. "But that can only vaccinate against known strands and the flu mutates almost as fast as the oh-so-common cold. Somebody must have picked it up in town, probably at the mall. Going to have to have the standard 'wash your hands when you sneeze and before eating and anytime you even think about touching your nose or mouth' talk again. And I need to call the school in town and find out if there are any other nasty little bugs going around for our kids to pick up. Really should have done that before." Scowling slightly, she kicked off her shoes with possibly more force than necessary, although she caught them with her tk before they hit anything and sent them into the closet.

Scott didn't bat an eye at the floating shoes; he had long ago gotten used to her levitating things around the suite. In fact, when she'd been gone, he'd rather missed it. "You'll get it all done," he said easily. "It's just a challenge to balance all the little things with the big things. Like running off to Russia to rescue hostages and fight telekinetic fanatics." He came over and kissed her on the cheek. "By the way, did I mention how glad I was that Nate was the one who decided to try bridge-catching? I like you better without pneumonia."

Leaning into the kiss Jean managed a half smile. "I like me better without pneumonia, either in my lungs or in my medlab. Stupid Nate. We need to make him stop getting things thrown at him."

"Mmm. May as well tell the wind not to blow." He leaned back, not quite thinking how glad he was that the three of them had managed to come back with an unconscious Saidullayev and nothing worse than a brewing case of pneumonia - but almost. "So, once you get a chance to write up exactly how the three of you took down Saidullayev, I'd really like to read it. For future reference. You'll notice I didn't actually have a plan to offer the three of you for dealing with him, and I'd prefer that not to happen again."

"Well, the short form is that, thankfully, he wasn't a telepath. I managed to hit him hard enough that way that his shields wavered, then dropped. Not sure I could have kept him down, but thanks to 'Ro I didn't have to."

"So how did Nathan wind up in the river? There was a bridge, that much I gather..." Nathan hadn't precisely had a chance to write up his mission report either.

"Oh, yes." Shoes off, Jean contemplated her blouse, then shrugged, and turned to collapse onto the bed still clothed. "Saidullayev thought throwing a bridge at Nate, while Nate was a) using the exoskeleton, so he couldn't deflect it and b) flying directly infront of an apartment building on the bank of the river, so dodging wasn't an option. So he caught the bridge, but it was either too heavy for him or threw him too much off balance too quickly to recover. Or both. And so he and the bridge went swimming."

"Uh-huh." Scott raised an eyebrow at her, then shrugged and laid down beside her, staring up at the ceiling. "I wonder about our lives sometimes, you know? Like you, right now... you've gone within forty-eight hours from fighting with bridges to planning handwashing talks."

"Push it back a week and you can add 'giving biology lectures', 'saving a man's life', 'cleaning up after a food fight' and 'loosing track of a psychotic killer' to the list." Jean rolled over, burying her face in his shoulder. Her muffled voice continued, "You only wonder about it sometimes?"

"Mmm. I think thinking too hard about it too often is a recipe for insanity. And, well, been there, done that."

"Ditto." There was a long pause and then Jean looked up, propping her chin on Scott's shoulder. "Distract me?" she asked, smiling.

He rolled an eye at her. "Oh, if I must... wait, are we talking distraction, or distraction?" Scott asked, grinning rather shamelessly.

Jean slid an arm across his stomach, fingers moving just shy of tickling him. "Three guesses and the first two don't count. Assuming," she said, pouting slightly, eyes twinkling mischievously, "that you're up for it..."

"Do I look like I'm in my grave yet, Legs?"