Scott and Jean, Saturday night

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There were better weeks than this to turn thirty- twenty-nine (again).


He'd known Jean would take his post seriously and come upstairs to rest - at least, once she reassured herself that he was practicing what he was preaching and was not in the flight simulator. The link gave him enough advance warning to get things set up, such as things were. He'd raided the main kitchen fridge for some half-decent food, though, and something else that was important, given the day...

When Jean walked through, the little cupcake was sitting on a small plate on the table, one candle burning cheerfully away.

It took her mind a few moments to catch up, having not even been thinking about what day it was. She stared at the cupcake for a second, and then a smile slowly broke out across her face as she looked up at Scott. "You know, I love you."

"I hope so. I steal cupcakes for you," Scott said with a perfectly straight face from the kitchen, where he was getting their dinner on plates. "Make a wish?" he said, emerging with one plate in either hand. "I'll pretend I can't guess what it'll be."

Jean smiled, moving into the dining area and sitting in front of the plate with the cupcake. The wish might be more than a little obvious, certainly, but it didn't make it any less heartfelt. Jean blew out the candle with a quick puff of air, then leaned back in her chair. "Best cupcake thief in the world," she said.

"I won't bore you with the details of my strategy, but it was a very complicated operation." He set her plate down in front of her, then leaned over and kissed her. "Happy birthday," he said more quietly, leaning back again. "Originally I'd had bigger plans."

"That's all right. Quiet and relaxing works for me, especially right now." And, given what she'd done at his birthday, something small and private seemed rather more than she deserved.

Scott's mouth twitched as he sat down. "They weren't bad plans. I was going to steal you away for the night again... I suppose we could do that another time." It came out sounding rather more firm than tentative.

"We can and we will," Jean agreed, laying a hand over his. She set aside the 'I hope," which threatened, and all the thoughts that went with it. Tonight it would just be them, and just be now.

The threatened smile finally found its way out, although it was reflective, at best. "So, how does it feel to be, um.... twenty-nine, again?"

Jean chuckled. "Good man," she said, leaning over and kissing him again. "Well trained."

"Well, you've put a lot of effort into me over the years. And you got me young, so I had fewer bad habits to start with," was the unrepentant reply. Scott picked up his fork, poking at the food on his plate. Under other circumstances it probably would have been easier to come up with non-work-related conersation at his wife's birthday dinner, but, well... "What would you think of repainting the suite?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Jean picked up her own silverware. "Tired of the blue?"

"Well, I like the blue, I just...." Scott shrugged, the smile coming back, if wryly. "It might be something to do after... later. Something normal, you know. And then you could torment me by making me go drape-shopping with you."

"I do like tormenting you," Jean agreed thoughtfully. And plans for later seemed... the right thing. The way to cope with all this. "Of course, if we're repainting I may end up redecorating entirely."

"That wouldn't be such a bad thing. I mean, apart from the copious amounts of shopping required..." He really was not all that hungry, but he ate anyway. Food was fuel. They were going to need fuel, tomorrow. "Anyway. Not all my advance preparations went for naught, I forgot to mention... I bought your birthday gift weeks ago."

"Well, that's good to hear. I think your brain might explode if you didn't have any pre-planning." Jean grinned at him.

Scott stood and went over to where he'd left the box. "Happy birthday," he said, bringing it back to the table. "It's interesting, you know. In all the birthdays I've celebrated with you, I've never given you anything with your birthstone before."

"I don't think you have," she agreed as she took the small box, carefully pulling off the wrapping and opening it. "Oh, wow. Scott, this is lovely."

"I remember Hank telling me once, very... sententiously, that you should never buy a woman a piece of jewelry you can't see her wearing. Which meant I had to look high and low for just the right sort of opal ring, because man, some of them are tacky." This one wasn't, though. It was elegant, and had jumped right out at him, because 'elegant', to him, always equaled 'Jean'.

Jean pulled the little ring out and slipped it onto one of her fingers, admiring the shine in the light. "Hank's a good teacher," she said, somewhat distracted as she turned her hand back and forth.

He reached out and took her hand, to get a good look at how it did look on her. "Yeah," he said, more softly, then raised her hand to his lips for a kiss. "Although I argue I also have a certain amount of natural talent..."

Looking up, she smiled softly. "No argument from me. I think you're very talented."

There were a few different levels of meaning there, and most of them were encouraging. "Hey, does it mean we're getting old and too used to each other when we don't need the link to convey the meaning between the snappy banter?"

"I'm not getting old," Jean said with a sly grin. "I'm only twenty-nine, again. You're the one who just passed thirty." The grin gentled, though, and she turned her hand in his grip to hold his.

He couldn't not. They couldn't very well pretend they weren't about to do what they were about to do tomorrow. "Let's make a deal, okay?" he said, his voice a bit rough. "No dying tomorrow. I think we've both done and nearly-done enough of that to last several lifetimes."

"Yes," Jean whispered to keep her voice from breaking as her hand tightened on his. "I'm holding you to that."