Tuesday, February 27: Pietro and Jean in the medlab

[x-ccelerate.livejournal.com]

The newest X-Man and the resident doctor chat briefly after his physical. It gets serious near the end, but it starts highly silly.



Pietro shrugged back into his shirt, his expression very dry. "Don't tell me, let me guess," he said. "I pass muster? Unless we've suddenly sideslipped into a TV movie and you're about to tell me I have a tragically debilitating and incurable condition."

It was too perfect an opening line. Looking up from his file with a perfectly straight face, Jean said, "Pietro, I don't know how to tell you this, but you're pregnant with Cain's baby. And you have three months to live. And an incurable brain tumor. And secretly, you're, um, Sam's love child."

Pietro sighed heavily. "I thought so. All the signs were there." He gave Jean a sudden earnest look. "Before it's too late, I have to tell you, Doctor--you and your husband are, in fact, brother and sister. And I know this because I am your gender-swapped clone."

"Oh no." Jean reached up to lay a hand across her brow, swooning slightly. "This explains so much about Nathan's reoccuring head-trauma. Because, you see, he is secretly our son from the future. How am I ever going to explain this to him?"

Pietro shrugged. "There's a better-than-even chance he's his own clone, so what's one more problem? But whatever you do--" The serious look was back in full force. "Whatever you do, tell him to stay away from the man with the scars. No good will come of him."

"No good ever does." Jean grinned, then snapped the folder closed. "Of course, aside from the three months to live you're all set to join the team. And, on the plus side, you won't live to carry the baby to term."

"That is a blessing." Pietro smirked. "Though I'm sure the poor innocent fetus's death will just confirm my status as the devil incarnate for certain of my new teammates. How dare I get pregnant with a terminal condition."

"Shockingly irresponsible of you, I admit. But at least you won't be around to hear them bitching? That's the worst part."

"For you, maybe. I think it's hilarious. I could make a drinking game out of them, except I'd sober up between shots and that's no fun. I'm still wondering if Logan's threat to bench himself rather than work with me is close enough to walking off the team for me to tell Summers I told him so." Pietro smirked briefly. "Though I suppose it's for the best, really. I'm about as comfortable working with killers as he apparently is with traitors."

"Ah, see, you clearly haven't been here that long. It gets old after the fourth or fifth month." Jean shrugged. "And you know Logan's not the only one with deaths to his name, accidental or otherwise."

"I've been here for six," Pietro pointed out. "Of course, this is really the first time I've crossed his line of vision in any significant fashion, so I'll concede the point about repeated exposure." He shook his head, expression firming. "There's a line there. Most of you have to be dragged across it. Logan doesn't, and I had enough of that kind of thing at my previous job. I'll work with him if I have to--just to spite him, and because I can work with people I don't entirely trust--but I rather doubt I'll ever find myself buying him a beer."

"Fair enough," Jean said, nodding. "Wouldn't ask you to, although I'm glad you simply doubt it instead of swearing it will never happen. I'm in favor of avoiding absolutes and leaving doors open."

The faint smirk returned. "Absolutes are my father's province. I had enough of those at my previous job too."