Scott and Jean, Wednesday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Backdated to Wednesday night. After this email conversation, Scott makes it back to the suite and he and Jean demonstrate that they have a really weird idea of foreplay.


Scott opened the suite door, blocking the cat's escape with one practiced move. "Back in, monster..." Des meowed plaintively but skittered away from the door. "I should have come bearing a new handbag," he said to Jean, "but it's been a long few days and I wasn't up to shopping."

"That's all right," Jean said, looking up from the notes she'd spread out on the desk. "Took a look, she didn't eat my favorite, or any of the expensive ones. Getting sloppy, cat. Not doing your research on what will be missed." Des, aware she was being addressed, simply mewed plaintively. Standing, Jean grinned and added, "But I'm not going to let you off making up for her behavior."

"Well, I wasn't planning to try and get out of it, you know." He came over and kissed her. "There are certain benefits for me, too, and I'm a selfish man." Scott took a step back, eyeing her. It had been a long couple of days, like he'd said, but she certainly wasn't showing it. "I was avoiding the team reports," he quipped.

Her long days had been less physically strenuous than his. "Avoiding paperwork, shocking. Quite a walk on the wild side..." She grinned as she teased him.

"Avoiding dealing with whatever went down on-site with the second daughter," Scott said wryly, heading over to the fridge. He needed something to drink. "It can wait a bit, whatever it was... I still don't have reports from most of the team that was there."

"There's still half a bottle of white wine in there," Jean said, settling on the couch. "Two glasses?" She toed her shoes off so she could curl up properly. "From what I gathered from skimming what I could, there was jurisdictional headbutting and uncertainty, as well as a honest-to-God believer in the cause. Never a good mix, but one that can wait."

Scott filled two glasses and came over to join her. "Yeah. Let's let them mull it over a little... I don't particularly want people's gut reactions anyway. Besides," he said, handing her the glass with a brief smile, "the girls are both back home where they belong. Hopefully another night's sleep will make sure everyone has proper perspective on that."

"Here's to that," Jean said, tilting the glass slightly so she could tink it against his. "And here's to hoping the press spin our way for once. The fact that the McKennas are fairly open minded when it comes to mutants at least means we didn't have any footage of a crying mother demanding a crack-down on registration or whatever."

The corner of Scott's mouth tugged upwards. "Do you ever get tired of thinking on several levels at once? I'd find it so wearing..." He was teasing, despite the apparently serious tone. "You are the brains in this relationship, you know."

"I was exposed to Charles at too young of an age. That sort of thing can be damaging. Now the kids have multiple role models to choose from. Me? Look what I got. Charles, Erik, and then Hank. Ruined me for life." She leaned her head against his shoulder, looking up at him. "I've got the brains and the looks. Remind me why I keep you around?"

Scott smirked. "I have warm feet in bed?" he ventured in a deadpan voice. "I clean up well after myself?"

"Hmm, yes, both of these are true," Jean said slowly, considering, "but you know, I don't think that was it. I think there was some other reason..."

Scott was grinning rather helplessly at this point, but paused to sip at his wine before he answered. "Oh, I know. My hound-dog-like devotion."

"Definitely a perk, that," Jean agreed, "but it's not the key point. What is it? It's on the tip of my tongue." She pursed her lips as though deeply puzzled, then took a sip from her own glass. "Nope, I've no idea. I knew once, but now it's gone. Any other ideas?"

"You have a thing for younger men?" Scott made very sure to kiss her before she could hit him.

But he hadn't actually gotten out of range, although hitting him would be counter productive. TK took care of the wine glass, leaving her hands free to tickle him mercilessly. "Clearly it's cause I'm crazy, yes. Or at least crazy for you."

Scott managed to pin her hands, and noticed Des sitting on the kitchen table regarding them dubiously. "Come on, cat, you should know by now that this is foreplay..."

Jean glanced at the cat, then leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, "I think that's why she looks so cranky. Neither of us like to share."

Scott cracked up laughing, sagging backwards on the couch. Because he still had a firm grip on Jean's wrists, he wound up pulling her with him. She didn't seem to mind, and he certainly didn't. "I'd offer her male companionship of her own, but I think they lose the taste for it when they get fixed, don't they? No kittens for you, Des," he said, looking sideways at the cat. It was odd to say something like that, he realized suddenly, after That Topic had come up in his brief email conversation with Jean.

Jean definitely didn't mind and, though she could hear the capitalization in his mind, she wasn't about to ruin the light mood. "Poor cat, doesn't know what she's missing."

"And we won't even let her be a voyeur," Scott said more merrily and pulled her close for the sole purpose of kissing her again. This couch was definitely growing on him.

Jean managed to get both the wine glasses safely out of the way on the kitchen table, although there was a certain amount of wobble; her brain was elsewhere, clearly. When she could breathe again, she nodded, grinning. "It's definitely a rough life, Des'. Sucks to be her."

Des promptly flounced away in the direction of the bathroom, and Scott cracked up laughing. "Oh, God... my cat is such a character," he said with a helpless grin. "Weird little household we've got going here. Horatio? Did you have anything to add?" Horatio slid off the rocks in his tank and into the water.

"That is definitely the turtle equivalent of 'don't look at me, I'm not getting involved'," Jean said, laughing herself.

Scott's smile was softer, but still far wider than anyone but... well, but Jean probably would ever have caught on his face. He reached up and tucked a stray bit of red hair behind her ear. "I love you. But I think possibly we need more room than the couch allows. For a proper expression of remorse."

"But I'm comfortable," Jean said as she snuggled down on top of him, pausing only half a second before leaning up to kiss Scott deeply.

"Think you may be right, though."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right, aren't I? I have a long reputation for rightness." And apparently, he'd also had his brain switched with a standup comic's. A bad standup comic. Scott gave Jean a 'please don't poke me anywhere sensitive?' grin.

Jean arched an eye at the babble and then grinned. "Rightness and moral rectitude, yes. I think I'm gonna have to work on breaking that down. Come." She carefully pushed up off the couch and, when she was standing, offered him her hand. "Let us move to the bed, where there is more space and comfort and there can be expressions of remorse and so on."

"I have no idea why I'm in this good a mood - oh, wait," Scott said merrily, following her into the bedroom. "It's the prospect of sex. I am a guy, after all."

"Terribly romantic, my love," Jean said, walking backwards as she pulled him unresistingly to the bed. "Surely you should say something about my presence lightening your heavy load, or the shine of my hair bringing brightness to your life?"

"I've just spent the last couple of hours up to my elbows in grease and plane parts," Scott said irrepressibly. "I've reverted to the stereotypical male."

"Oh, does that mean there's going to be grunting and scratching? I can deal with that, I guess."