Jean and Scott
Mar. 27th, 2007 10:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAfter Logan and Scott have their 'discussion', Scott heads back to the suite and gets to deal with Jean.
He was a bit wary, coming back to the suite; he'd seen that comment of Jean's, after all, and although he'd been keeping shields up during the conversation with Logan he knew she knew Logan had been on his way to the office. The first thing that he saw when he opened the door was Des drinking out of a teacup on the table, and Scott sighed, detouring over there to pull her away.
The cat squawked as he scooped her up and then leaned down to put her on the floor. "We've had a talk about leaving the food-place alone, Des. Don't look so offended."
Jean came out of the bedroom at the sound of Scott's voice. "Damn," she said, catching sight of the tea cup. "I forgot. Sorry." Sighing, she collected it and dumped the remaining tea out before setting it in the sink. "So, did he keep his temper in check or do I rip his arm off and beat him with it?"
"He was fine," Scott said, then smiled a bit dryly. "Well, not fine. But his absolute blistering contempt for my wife-beating self was apparently enough to allow him to keep his temper in check. Which makes sense, you know," he said, spotting on the coffee table the textbook he'd been unable to find downstairs in his office. He went over to pick it up, leafing through it hoping to find the notes he'd scrawled down for tomorrow's class. "You don't get violent with someone whose actions put them beneath your contempt."
"Right, and this stops Logan when, exactly?" Jean was still angry, and more than, about the whole thing. It was her damn life and she was trying to put it back together. She'd managed most of a week of staving off the bad mood but now it was back with a vengence.
Scott could see - and more important, sense the foul mood, now that he'd lowered the shield on the link. He set the textbook down and went over to her, raising a hand with a sigh to lightly trace the almost-faded bruises on her cheekbone. "He's got something of a point, you know," he said. "Just because we're at home with violence doesn't mean... well, that we have to have violence at home." He sighed again. "And yeah, I know you're a lot more pissed about the other parts of that day, and I know I tried to drive you out of there with words before I descended to knocking you out... but he's probably not the only one who sees those as excuses."
"Violence at home?" Jean said, scowling. "Right, because this happens every day and we've really got a problem that I'm too scared to deal with. Yeah." She wasn't sure where the anger was focused - she was mad at Logan for starting it, for suggesting her husband was a wife-beater, and that she'd put up with it if he was, mad at Scott for hitting her, for almost dying, mad at the world for doing this to them again. Didn't matter. She was just angry. Taking a deep breath she went on. "You hit me, and you shouldn't have done it, but it wasn't about me being your wife. If it had been Ororo there insisting she wouldn't leave, you'd have done the same damn thing. Doesn't make it right, doesn't make it better but... fuck. Scott, you're not abusive."
"I told him it was insulting, thinking that you needed anyone to defend you," Scott murmured, letting his hand fall reluctantly. "I don't think he gets that, you know? Not deep down. I mean, fuck knows, I do understand the urge to protect you, I really do... but you're about the least defenseless woman I know. And there are some pretty formidable women around here." He sighed, his shoulders hunching slightly as he went over to the kitchen, spotting dishes that needed to be put away. Clean the suite, Summers, yeah, that should really be your priority...
"The only person I need to be protected from is myself," Jean said, then looked away from him. "Hell, that's what you were doing. I didn't and don't agree it needed doing just then, but that's what it was."
Scott dropped one of the clean plates, and it shattered, quite spectacularly. He didn't move to pick it up, just stared at her, stricken, over the shards for a moment. Then he was moving, and Jean found herself swept up in a fierce, almost crushing hug before she could react.
Despite that, Scott was shaking as he held her. "I'm sorry - I'm so sorry," he said raggedly, and then words abruptly failed him. He kissed her, first on the cheek, then pressing his lips almost desperately to her temple. "Never again," he breathed. "I swear." And it wasn't, as they both damned well knew, an apology for the punch.
Jean wrapped her arms around him, hiding the sudden tears and her face in the crook of his neck. "Doesn't matter," she whispered raggedly, clinging tightly to him. "I love you. None of it matters except that."
He was a bit wary, coming back to the suite; he'd seen that comment of Jean's, after all, and although he'd been keeping shields up during the conversation with Logan he knew she knew Logan had been on his way to the office. The first thing that he saw when he opened the door was Des drinking out of a teacup on the table, and Scott sighed, detouring over there to pull her away.
The cat squawked as he scooped her up and then leaned down to put her on the floor. "We've had a talk about leaving the food-place alone, Des. Don't look so offended."
Jean came out of the bedroom at the sound of Scott's voice. "Damn," she said, catching sight of the tea cup. "I forgot. Sorry." Sighing, she collected it and dumped the remaining tea out before setting it in the sink. "So, did he keep his temper in check or do I rip his arm off and beat him with it?"
"He was fine," Scott said, then smiled a bit dryly. "Well, not fine. But his absolute blistering contempt for my wife-beating self was apparently enough to allow him to keep his temper in check. Which makes sense, you know," he said, spotting on the coffee table the textbook he'd been unable to find downstairs in his office. He went over to pick it up, leafing through it hoping to find the notes he'd scrawled down for tomorrow's class. "You don't get violent with someone whose actions put them beneath your contempt."
"Right, and this stops Logan when, exactly?" Jean was still angry, and more than, about the whole thing. It was her damn life and she was trying to put it back together. She'd managed most of a week of staving off the bad mood but now it was back with a vengence.
Scott could see - and more important, sense the foul mood, now that he'd lowered the shield on the link. He set the textbook down and went over to her, raising a hand with a sigh to lightly trace the almost-faded bruises on her cheekbone. "He's got something of a point, you know," he said. "Just because we're at home with violence doesn't mean... well, that we have to have violence at home." He sighed again. "And yeah, I know you're a lot more pissed about the other parts of that day, and I know I tried to drive you out of there with words before I descended to knocking you out... but he's probably not the only one who sees those as excuses."
"Violence at home?" Jean said, scowling. "Right, because this happens every day and we've really got a problem that I'm too scared to deal with. Yeah." She wasn't sure where the anger was focused - she was mad at Logan for starting it, for suggesting her husband was a wife-beater, and that she'd put up with it if he was, mad at Scott for hitting her, for almost dying, mad at the world for doing this to them again. Didn't matter. She was just angry. Taking a deep breath she went on. "You hit me, and you shouldn't have done it, but it wasn't about me being your wife. If it had been Ororo there insisting she wouldn't leave, you'd have done the same damn thing. Doesn't make it right, doesn't make it better but... fuck. Scott, you're not abusive."
"I told him it was insulting, thinking that you needed anyone to defend you," Scott murmured, letting his hand fall reluctantly. "I don't think he gets that, you know? Not deep down. I mean, fuck knows, I do understand the urge to protect you, I really do... but you're about the least defenseless woman I know. And there are some pretty formidable women around here." He sighed, his shoulders hunching slightly as he went over to the kitchen, spotting dishes that needed to be put away. Clean the suite, Summers, yeah, that should really be your priority...
"The only person I need to be protected from is myself," Jean said, then looked away from him. "Hell, that's what you were doing. I didn't and don't agree it needed doing just then, but that's what it was."
Scott dropped one of the clean plates, and it shattered, quite spectacularly. He didn't move to pick it up, just stared at her, stricken, over the shards for a moment. Then he was moving, and Jean found herself swept up in a fierce, almost crushing hug before she could react.
Despite that, Scott was shaking as he held her. "I'm sorry - I'm so sorry," he said raggedly, and then words abruptly failed him. He kissed her, first on the cheek, then pressing his lips almost desperately to her temple. "Never again," he breathed. "I swear." And it wasn't, as they both damned well knew, an apology for the punch.
Jean wrapped her arms around him, hiding the sudden tears and her face in the crook of his neck. "Doesn't matter," she whispered raggedly, clinging tightly to him. "I love you. None of it matters except that."
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