Valentine's Day - Jean and Scott

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Scott has plans for V-Day. Jean, however, has better ones.



Jean knew perfectly well that, just because she'd speant the last week thinking she was eleven didn't mean there was even the slightest chance that Scott didn't have plans for Valentine's Day. Hell, this was Scott, he'd undoubtedly had plans since mid-January. Luckily, Jean had no problems with poking about to find out what they were and then canceling them. He might have had plans, but she had Plans.

At the stroke of five Jean showed up in the door to Scott's office, grinning at him. "Hi. You're being kidnapped."

Scott looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. She had that look. And if she hadn't had that look, there was still the little thread of pleased mischief and determination bubbilng down the link. "Am I, now," he said, repressing a smile. "And what if I plead a previous engagement?"

The grin got wider. "Then I would have to point out that I know the password to your electronic schedule and might fairly easily have adjusted said engagements." She had, in fact, even added a little tag line to his notes about dinner that simply said 'that's what you think...'

"You touched the schedule?" Scott demanded humorously, but got up. It wasn't as if the current paperwork was all that interesting, and it was five. "Does the kidnapping involve leaving the house? Because in that case, I may need to change." And there was something in the bedroom that he wanted her to see, even if the Plan had been rearranged.

"It does, and you do," Jean confirmed, then caught his arm as he got in range to pull him into a kiss. When she finally let him breathe again she added, "A jacket is required."

Scott decided he wasn't going to protest too much. Because if a jacket was required, it implied rather nice things about what she would be wearing. And he might be many things, but he was not a dumb man.

---

Jean's outfit plans had changed slightly with the advent of the flowers he'd left for her on their bed - she'd ended up doing up her hair and sticking sprigs of baby's breath in it - but it didn't deviate too far from the 'small black and slinky' theme she'd originally planned, so Scott defintely didn't have anything to complain about. The drive north into Hyde Park through the Hudson Valley was long, it was true, but Jean didn't even have to go out of her way to take the scenic route, given that the area was naturally gorgeous. And, when they pulled in to the Culinary Institute's drive and parked in front of the entrance to Escoffier it was clear she'd quite likely morgatged someone's soul to get her entire Plan worked out.

Scott had done several double-takes already. "... my plan was of the weak," he conceded. "Maybe you should make the plans from now on." He'd already enjoyed the drive to a shameless extent; it wasn't as if he'd gone very far from the mansion in the last couple of weeks.

"No no no," Jean said, parking the car and slipping out, pulling her coat close around her since it was still incredibly cold. "If I have to make the plan all the time my brain will explode. It is precisely the rarity of my plans which makes them special."

Scott came around the car to take her arm. "Well, it is definitely better than my plan, which was no better than 'cute', with the exception of the flowers." Which had been Ororo's, after all, so he could hardly take credit.

"Well, I always think you're cute," she said with a smile as they headed inside. "But after this last week, you deserve extraordinary even more than usual." She'd had the reservations before, of course, but some parts of the plan had been altered just this week to take that into account. Not that she was telling about them yet.

Scott just grinned at her. They were out for some time alone, she didn't think she was eleven, and he loved that dress. It was definitely the best evening in quite some time. If there was some spring in his step as he and Jean went into the restaurant, he thought pretty much anyone would understand.

The restaurant was busy, no doubt about that, yet it somehow managed to maintain the ambiance. "This is nice," Scott said after he and Jean had been led to their table. "And yes, I'm trying to be understated. Oohing and ahhing is so gauche."

Jean smiled as the maitre d' stood back to let Scott hold her chair as she sat. "Understated is good," she said as the two waiters stopped over to introduce themselves and the sommelier. "Private time away from the school? Even better."

"You wouldn't think we like our jobs," Scott said afterwards, once they'd been left with the menus. "With how glad we are to get away." He gave her a long, measuring look when she wasn't looking. He still worried.

"It's not that we don't like our jobs," Jean argued, perusing the choices. "Everybody needs time off work and that fact that we live there makes that hard."

"Mm. The crab salad looks good, don't you think?" In fact, the whole menu looked good, and he was starting to remember just how sporadic and poor his eating habits had been over the last couple of weeks. He tended to do that when distracted anyway, and last week had constituted exceptional distraction.

"I'm actually leaning towards the endive with poached pears myself." She could actually see him relaxing, not to mention the way his mental presence had stopped feeling so... tight. Off balance. Jean mentally toasted herself for her plan.

The crab salad did look good. As did the salmon. Scott closed his menu and set it down, just watching her, this time with a little smile. "You realize that technically, we're nearly to the decade mark?" he asked.

More or less decided herself, Jean looked up at that. "That's... a fairly impressive thought, given what all has happened in the intervening ten years."

"It's a pretty good run, yeah," Scott said, the smile growing. "Neither death nor recurring crazy nor... acts of old men in funny hats... oh, I should probably stop there, shouldn't I?" He reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it lightly.

"You make us sound like the postal service - neither wind nor rain nor dark of night, etc." She attempted a glower but it was rather spoiled by the fact that she couldn't keep from grinning.

"There are worse things," Scott said simply. "If nothing else, you know, we're living proof that you can make it work even with the crazy life."

"Yes, that's true enough." Reaching over she took his hand, smiling. "By the way, because this bears saying as often as possible, I love you."

"I love you too. Quite... intemperately," Scott said, grinning at her. "And I love it when you throw all my plans into disarray. Moreso when it's pleasant, like this, mind you..."

"It's always pleasant when it's me," Jean said smugly, then sat up straighter as the waiter came back to take their order.

---

"So," Jean said as they walked back to the car, "now is when I tell you that I'm not letting you go back to the school - Charles knows. It's part of my plan, but I figured you needed to be buttered up first."

"Oh-ho," Scott said, surprised by this evidence of conspiracy. Not overly distressed, mind you. "Hey, am I not supposed to be the one plotting relaxation and/or fun for loved ones who've spent a truly crappy couple of weeks? I think something is backwards here." He slipped an arm around Jean as they headed in the direction of the car.

Jean leaned into him, smiling. "My week was, relatively, not that bad. Terrible fashion aside. Your wife thought she was twelve. The only appropriate response to that is, of course, to take you off to a romantic inn and have my wicked way with you."

"Oh, that was definitely not a protest, believe me." Scott pressed a kiss to her temple. "In fact, call it the very opposite of a protest. Mind driving, though?" He'd had some wine with dinner, and his field of vision issues were a bit problematic for night driving at times.

"Not a problem," Jean said. "You don't know where we're going, so I'm definitely driving."

"You are the only one I would let drive my car, you realize. Except maybe for Ororo," Scott said amiably. "Only the two of you could I trust to treat her properly. Where are we going, anyway?"

Reaching the car, Jean gallantly held the door open for Scott. "Step one, cute, out of the way bed and breakfast. Step two..." She grinned brightly. "Step three, profit."