Scott and Jean, Friday evening

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott realizes he forgot something. Jean is fairly forgiving, after he does a little strategic groveling.


What had he done with it? Scott grumbled to himself, sorting through the pile of papers and files on his and Jean's shared desk in the suite. He knew he'd printed the syllabus out to take a look at it, because he'd made a mental note to do that tonight. It might be only April, but if he was going to launch that course in the fall he needed to be making decisions about it now.

"I generate too much damned paper," he muttered to himself as he sorted through the pile. "Whatever happened to the paperless office, damn it - oh hell."

What was staring up at him was definitely not the syllabus he'd been looking for, and was not a welcome site. Scott stared down in something close to horror at the brochure extolling the virtues of Eleuthera, in the Caribbean.

"Damn it."

Jean generally ignored Scott's talking to himself - it wasn't a habit he indulged often, but she could usually tell if he was talking to her or no one. The 'damn it', however, was a tad surprising. Looking up from her final tests she was marking, she cocked her head at him. "What's wrong?"

Scott turned slowly, holding up the brochure. The look on his face was a combination of sheepish and tragic. "... I was researching. I didn't get to the point of actually booking." And now they had precisely two days left of spring break.

Jean blinked at him for a second then grinned, slowly. It was the 'oooh, I get to be evil' grin. "You dropped the ball, Scott. Shocking. Very unlike you. You know what it means, though, right?"

"I can't help it!" he protested. "This whole vacation concept, it's not a natural thing for me..." He was having a hard time keeping the grin off his face, though. He shouldn't be grinning. He really had dropped the ball.

"I sense a lack of repentance." Setting aside the tests Jean stood up, crossing the room to peek over his shoulder at the brochure. "Look at that beach. Acres of clean, pretty sand I could lie scantily clad on. And you've missed the chance." She sighed theatrically.

"Aw, hell, and you'd promised one of those swimsuits that aren't meant to get wet, either," Scott said mournfully. "Of all the times for me to let things slide." He gave her a hopeful look over his shoulder. "Summer? June's not that far, all things considered."

"Mmmm, maybe," Jean said. "We'll have to see. I mean, you missed a chance. There may have to be punishment. A lack of bikini sounds like a punishment to me..."

"Your sadistic streak is showing, dear." There was something close to an outright sparkle in Scott's eye. "And damned if I'm not perverse, but it's almost as attractive as you in a bikini."

"You are perverse, yes." Jean was smirking as she slid her hands around his waist to pull him closer. "I've long since accepted that. Sometimes it's even extra fun. Now then, what are you going to do to make up for this terrible oversight?"

"Well, let's see." Scott tried to keep a Very Serious face on. It was hard. "I could start small... and constant, to sort of mitigate the seriousness of the offense while I plot a more spectacular act of contrition..."

The Very Serious face was not at all believable, but that was ok. "Oooh, spectacular acts of contrition. I could possibly be swayed by one of those. And the smaller, preemptory stuff, of course."

"It's been forever since we've actually seen a Shakespeare play," Scott mentioned, the smile starting to slip out. "I mean, in terms of small stuff. But an evening here, breakfast in bed there... before you know it we'll have tided ourselves over until the end of term."

Jean's eyes lit up. "See, both of those? Really excellent ideas. We could also see if there's anything going on in the City that would be worth a weekend, maybe."

"Hell, even just hiding in a nice hotel for a night or two would be worth it. Even if we shut ourselves in there and told room service to just leave the cart outside the door." Scott turned and kissed her, briefly but quite firmly. "I could be quite okay with that, I think."

"Mmmm, yes, that would also be an acceptable act of contrition."

"I am a very creative groveler." He couldn't not laugh at that. "Oh, hell, would you listen to me..." Scott gave her a quick hug and then stepped back, still chuckling. "You turn me into the biggest sap in the world, woman," he accused her warmly.

Jean grinned unrepentantly. "You let me?" she offered then, since she was already up, headed into the kitchenette. "Want anything?" she asked, pulling out the orange juice. "To make up for my sap-causing tendencies, I'll even cook something, if you're hungry."

"Oh, but all I need for sustenance is - I can't finish that sentence, I just can't."