Jean and Scott, Sunday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott and Jean head down to Harry's for some relaxation and away-from-journal-nonsense time.


"To alcohol," Scott said, his voice all but dripping with irony as he raised his glass to the redhead sitting across the table from him. "Drug of choice, object of teenaged reverence, excuse for all kinds of crap. Long may it do a number on our inhibitions." Despite the overdramatic delivery, he was only drinking beer. The days when anything but total mission failure and/or mangled children could drive him to attempted alcohol poisoning were long since gone.

"Hear hear, I guess," Jean said, lifting her own glass. "Certainly it's a better choice of toast than 'to the journals, long may they inspire catty infighting, public stupidity and moralization."

"I'm going to call Hank tomorrow. It's been a while since I did the whole 'You thought this was a good idea, why?' thing." Scott sipped at his beer. "I must be getting old, Jean, because I look at stuff like this and they seem like alien creatures."

"They are aliens. You turn thirty and you can't remember ever having been that dumb. Well," Jean amended, taking a drink, "you were never that dumb. Hank tried, but it never took. I, on the other hand... Well, thank God I didn't have classmates until after I grew out of some of it."

Scott's smile was almost mischievous. "Yes, dear, we know there are many good reasons that Charles shudders whenever your teenaged years are mentioned. I think that's why he takes all the rest of this in stride." The smile turned a bit rueful. "He's certainly slid right back into the headmaster's job with no trouble at all. One wonders why he had Ororo and I doing it in the first place."

"Other things were starting to pile up," Jean said with a shrug. "That or he's much more evil than we've ever suspected." She paused, smiling faintly. "Mind, I've not crossed that one off the list yet."

"See, that's just pessimistic." Scott took another sip of his beer, his expression turning pensive. "I think I should get in touch with my evil side, sometimes... I mean, I'm sure it's in there somewhere, I just have to look really carefully. Not just my sadistic side, my actual evil side. Maybe I could scare people into behaving if I did."

Jean eyed him for a second, then nodded. "Well, it would be your turn, I guess. But if so, I insist you find a new way to do it. No having your mind taken over. I would be most put out."

"No one would ever buy me going evil," Scott grumbled. "It would be all 'Scott, are you having another nervous breakdown? Scott, who pissed in your cheerios? Scott, did Logan come back into town or something?'"

"I dunno, I'm sure there are some of them who don't think you're the world's only pre-sanctified boy-scout. I mean, Ororo, if no one else, would believe it. Of course, she'd throw a lightning bolt somewhere unpleasant at you for abandoning her to the madness, even if it's only team madness now and not the school, too. And," Jean added, shaking a finger at him, "I think you missed your chance. Really, before you got out of the headmaster gig was the time to do it. Now there's less stress, people won't buy that as the reason."

Scott pouted, but then ruined the pout's not inconsiderable impact by grinning crookedly. "Poor strategic thinking on my part. Must reevaluate. Could I blame it on boredom? I have whole hours of the day where I don't have a dozen things that need doing... it's kind of jarring."

"Mmm, again, it's not as severe as it needs to be to justify such a departure from the norm. I mean, look at the precedent. Tracking an evil bastard, power warping, mind control." She ticked each one off on her fingers. "They're all big things. I'll allow, boredom's pretty massive when it's you, but I think you'd have to give up teaching entirely and drop the X-gig for it to be really believable."

"And then I would really go nuts." Scott set his beer back down and selected a pretzel out of the bowl on the table. Flipping it idly back and forth between his fingers, he let his attention move over the rest of the patrons of the bar for a moment. It was a quiet night. He wasn't objecting. "I need to fnd a hobby."

"Another one? So, that would make it the bike, the sax, the pets and... ? If you decide to take up any form of extreme sport we'll be having words." Jean grinned at him, leaning back in her chair.

Scott suddenly got what could only be described as an unholy gleam in his eye. "... base jumping. That's not really an extreme sport, is it? Just kind of crazy. I've always had a thing for mock personal flight..."

Jean narrowed her eyes at him, then leaned forward again, point a finger at his nose. "You, husband dearest, are not allowed to go base jumping without a registered telekinetic. No, strike that. I don't trust you and Nate alone together. You are not allowed to go jumping out of any planes, off and bridges, buildings or mountains, or other things that involve you falling at a fast rate, with or without restraining cords or chutes, unless I am there."

"Proactive measures to keep your spouse from going splat. I feel loved." He reached up and took her hand before she could pull it back, dropping a kiss on the back of it before releasing her. "But anyway, no falling from great heights. Check. I don't want to give you any more gray hair, lest you smother me in my sleep..."

Jean grinned at him. "I have no gray hairs. None."

"Oh, of course not. I was speaking figuratively. I have gray hair. I was noticing them in the mirror this morning." He reclaimed his beer, and although the smile stayed on, his gaze was frankly thoughtful as he watched her. "I can't figure out what we're doing wrong with the trainees and the recent 'graduates', you know... I don't think us old geezers ever had quite that much friction. Unless you count Logan and, uh, everyone."

"Well, it's not as though this is the first instance," Jean said, shrugging as she took another drink. "I mean, think about Jubilee and, well, almost all of the girls she graduated with. Particularly Amanda. I read some of your notes about that."

"And look where Jubilee is now," Scott said. "Actually, she's the perfect example... except that just leads me back into wondering if we ask too much of them, at too young an age."

"As we were taught, so we do, and the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children, into the next generation, and the next." Frowning, Jean shook her head. "Look, there. I've gone maudlin. Bad, Jeanie, bad."

"My fault; I brought it up. I just wonder, you know... I suppose I can't not. It might be Charles's show, but Ororo and I are the ones making the day to day decisions." Scott let out a brief, tired-sounding laugh. "But I'll tell you, it's about a hundred times easier than the headmaster's job, at least in that respect."

"Each one of them really does have to decide for themselves how much they can give. We don't ask for more than that. It's just... they're not always very good at limiting themselves. Nor, for that matter, are we."

"Hah, yes, you and I are kind of the poster children for overdoing it, aren't we?" Yet they were here, and relatively save, both of them. He supposed that really ought to give him some hope for the kids. "Here's to becoming old and wise," he said, raising his beer again. "May the rest of them all age quickly."

Jean lifted her glass in toast. "We just need to find another small pocket dimension into which to toss them. It worked for Forge and Crystal, at least. Less so for Illyana, but two out of three isn't bad."