Scott and Jean

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Late at night, Scott wakes from a nightmare and Jean makes cocoa.



Footsteps, walking around and around in circles. The sound got closer, only to fade back into the distance, into the darkness. Scott jerked every time they stopped, expecting hands to reach down and pull him to his feet, and every time it didn't happen, it made the anticipation worse. Because they would come back for him, they always did...

Thump. It was a soft, innocuous noise - a book hitting carpet, Scott realized, disoriented, as his eyes flew open and he saw a dark shape dart across the bedroom floor and out into the living room, leaving behind the textbook she'd knocked off the bedside table. Scott drew in a shaky breath, only then realizing that the side of his face was damp. He reached up, brushing away tears almost in irritation and slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb Jean.

His nerves were still jangling. Only when he was safely in the living room, the door to the bedroom closed behind him, did he allow himself to turn on the light. The living room was thrown into sharp relief, all at once, and Scott just stood there, breathing.

A slight draft slipped through where the blankets had failed to settle right when Scott left and Jean shifted, attempting to snuggle closer into Scott's warmth and finding only the pillow. She blearily lifted her head and managed to make out a trace of light under the door. Another nightmare?

Jean didn't bother with a robe as she padded across the room and opened the door, blinking in the sudden light. "Scott, love? You ok?"

Sitting on the couch at this point, he mustered up a smile that was only a little wan. "Des woke me up," he said, running a hand through his hair. Not mentioning that he was rather grateful to the cat for doing just that.

Jean shot a look at the seemingly-innocent cat and said, "Wretched fuzz-butt." Crossing to where he was sitting she leaned over the back of the couch, pressing a kiss onto the top of his head. "Want some cocoa or something?"

"Sure," Scott said quietly, not quite stiffening - Jean would sense it, he knew, but she'd understand. "We really need to do something about how easily she opens the bedroom door. Maybe I can make it harder for her." He managed to keep his tone light.

"A latch would do it," she said, not reacting to Scott's tenseness, simply projecting normalcy and calm as she headed into the kitchen to pour some milk into a pan and start heating it. "Although it seems a tad silly to lock our door after all these years just because of a cat."

"I just wish she wouldn't look for stuff to knock flying in the middle of the night. I don't mind just about anything else she does in the bedroom." Her habit of pouncing Jean in the mornings and Jean's various strategies to avoid being pounced were always funny. Scott rubbed at his eye, then the scars on the other side of his face. "Just one of those nights," he said, as Jean puttered silently in the kitchen. "I wonder sometimes if the dreams are ever going to go away entirely." There'd been a few too many nights like this lately. He supposed it had something to do with the week in containment, maybe.

"I don't know about entirely," Jean said, shaking her head for a moment without looking up from the preparations, "but nightmares do decrease in frequency. It'll get better." Certainly she hadn't dreamed about the water in months.

The full-spectrum bulbs made for rather sharp illumination, at this time of night. "It has already," Scott said, more to remind himself than to reply to Jean. "And it's not like what happened last summer is the only reason I've ever had to have nightmares about being in the dark."

As Jean puttered around the kitchen, Des had hopped up on the couch, watching Scott. Finally, with a little 'mrrrr?' she curled up next to him, just as Jean poured the cocoa out and collected the two cups to come join him. "Des," she sighed as she spotted the cat placed perfectly to stop her from sitting down. "Don't think this will stop me from sitting on you or moving you telekinetically. Which you hate." But the cat ignored her.

Scott just shook his head and scooped her up, depositing her on his lap in a single practiced move. The cat huffed and blinked at him, but settled down again, purring. "She really hasn't figured out she can't win yet," he said, giving Jean a slightly steadier smile as he took the cup she offered. "One of these days it'll sink in."

"You give her too much credit, I think," Jean said, sinking onto the couch and tucking her feet up under her.

"She's insulting your intelligence, Des," Scott informed the cat, who flicked her ears at Jean. Scott took a sip of the cocoa, and the warmth chased the last residual chill of the dream away. "So," he said, the lightness sounding much less forced, "feel like a game of strip go-fish?"

Jean grinned. "I'll get the cards."