Scott and Jean, late Monday

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

After graduation, on the eve of a most eagerly anticipated demotion, Scott gets well and truly (and gleefully) trashed. Jean is good enough to steer him home to bed.


"I forgot those stairs were there," Scott said in the cheerful, slightly-too-loud voice of someone who was rather impressively drunk and unaware that it was well after 2am. "Do you remember the time Hank and I tried to sneak in using those stairs and Charles caught us? He was very piqued."

"Well, to be fair, the two of you had swiped his car to go bar crawling, and it was late, but those stairs are right by where his office was, you should have remembered there was an even chance he'd still be working," Jean said, the companionable arm she had wrapped around his waist serving double duty in helping hold him upright.

Scott grinned at her. "I love your logic. It's very, very sexy. Almost as sexy as your legs." He paused, then tried to get a proper look at her legs, taking a respectable stab at falling over as he did so. "No, not nearly as sexy as your legs. I was wrong. Very, very wrong." He straightened up again - with Jean's help - and tottered only a little.

Jean couldn't help giggling a little; knowing he full well intended to get well and truly plastered she'd avoided drinking herself but now she was tired enough to not be shielding and 'contact high' was more than just an expression given they were psi-linked. "Nothing is as sexy as my legs, I thought we'd established that years ago."

"I keep wondering if maybe something else has caught up. But they go on forever, so that's kind of... what's the word I'm looking for. Redundant?" Scott leaned happily against the wall as she opened the door to their suite.

"I don't think that's the word you want," Jean said, tugging him back up closer to vertical and steering them both inside while a stray thought closed and locked the door. "But then, you're completely pickled, love, and so I have no idea what the word you want is."

"It's a happy pickled, though," Scott said, grinning from ear to ear. "I don't think I've ever been so happily pickled. I don't have to be Captain Fuckwad anymore." No more Captain Fuckwad, no more Cranky the Pedantic Headmaster... it'd had weeks to sink in, but tonight, it was like finding out all over again.

"Oh, very happily, yes. It's charming. I'm also enjoying the thought that I get to be the one who's not hungover tomorrow." A little bit more maneuvering and Jean finally let Scott sit down on the edge of the bed, and then caught him as he attempted to slide off it. "Come on, off with the clothes..."

"Too pickled for that, I'm afraid," Scott said, somewhat mournfully, but did as he was told. "Just think, though. No more bringing paperwork to bed."

Jean snorted. "Much too pickled, yes. I was thinking more in the pajamas direction myself." As he struggled with his clothes Jean went and collected a large glass, filling it with water - he was going to need it in the morning...

"This was a really good idea," he rambled as she returned. He'd apparently managed to put his t-shirt on backwards, and was peering in puzzlement over his shoulder, trying to figure out where the Xavier school crest had gone. "Celebrate graduation. I didn't celebrate my graduation properly. Any of them. Was too busy doing other things."

"Hmph, there was definitely a celebration when you graduated college; I remember," Jean said, setting down the glass and peeling out of her own clothes. "Mind, yes, we were busy with other things as well, but the occasion did not go unmarked."

"Missing my point. Properly," he said. Almost thoughtfully, inasmuch as he was capable of thought right now. "There were things to do the next morning. It was just finishing one thing and going on to the next. I knew what was coming..." He trailed off, then grinned at her, giving up on his t-shirt. "It's not like now. Now, if I wasn't going to be so, so hungover in the morning, I could sleep in. Or get up and make you breakfast. I mean, I know I do those things sometimes, but it's different!" Words were just failing him, in describing how. Laughing a little, Scott flopped backwards onto the pillow. "I could just lie around and admire my really, really hot wife."

Jean laughed as she pulled another of his t-shirts on over her head, messing up her hair. "Ahhh, now I see. And in a way, being so terribly hungover in the morning is also a celebration, then. And eventually the hangover will pass."

"Your hair is really pretty, in case I haven't mentioned that lately," Scott said, gazing up at her. "We should have Mexican food. And dancing. Possibly in the other order."

"Ah, my drunken love, if you want it, then Mexican and dancing we shall have," she said with a grin, crawling into bed to drop a kiss onto his forehead, turning out the lights with a thought.

"Best wife ever. Also, the hottest."