Jean & Vanessa | Friday Night

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

In the aftermath of what happened between Vanessa and Lex earlier that night, Vanessa comes to Jean to see if her friend will come with her to drink the pain away.



Once out of Lex's suite the pressure in Vanessa's chest eased up a bit. The pace of her footsteps grew more rapid as she walked and even though Vanessa had every intention of heading to the garage to get out of there she instead veered off toward the staff suites. The hand-carved basket filled with tickets and a knife and a bracelet - along with who knew what else because she refused to look just yet - was still clutched to her stomach. Her grip on the wooden half-orb was white knuckled, but she wouldn't let up or shift her grip at all. By the time she knocked on the door to Jean's suite hoping the redhead was around Vanessa probably looked like hell. She certainly felt like it. Harry's was the closest place with liquor and that's where Vanessa wanted to head. She was sure she could secure night passage on the couch of either Laurie, Jean or Garrison's suite or even crash in a guest room if she had to. But that annoying kid at the mansion worked at Harry's and someone had to ensure she didn't put a knife through his throat when he inevitably said something stupid to her. Good thing for everyone she hadn't brought a gun with her.

Jean was actually in a pretty good mood for once. After a long, very involved phone conversation with someone special in California earlier that morning, mostly attentive students, and a medlab free of blood or broken bones, she was ending the day by settling down for a bubble bath and an early turn in.

Or so she thought.

High emotions were like rocket fuel to the "engine" that powered thoughts. And just like an engine they made them move faster, harder, stronger. It was very hard to find control and balance when all you can think of are hate, fear, pain, or love. Hard to mask your thoughts or do anything except get lost in the tide of feeling. And because thoughts and feelings were so tied in to one another it was very hard to separate them.

Overtime, certain feelings and thoughts were more diminished with experience and training, such as when one became an X-Man or trained as such. It was what kept Jean from having to keep her mental shields up tighter every time there was a DR session to keep from hearing 'oh shit! A giant robot!' three times a week coming from the Danger Room while she was on duty in the Medlab.

Her shields were second nature to her anyway, and she normally always had them up to some varying degree. Years of experience prepared her for many things, even those that were just happening to the ones who were experiencing it. When her powers first manifested, the Professor had taught her to recognize that the thoughts of others weren't hers. It had been very easy to get lost in them and flow with the tide out to the ocean. But now, she was able to direct the flow that washed over her whenever it came up, for the most part.

It didn't mean she still didn't empathize.

Jean opened the door a couple of moments after Vanessa knocked, clad in her purple robe.

Sharing down at the basket a moment, then back up to her, she stepped aside to let her in. Judging from the "evidence" in her hands, Jean had an idea of what might've happened but she wanted to let Vanessa tell her--or not tell her--whenever she felt like it. She had her walls up, but the quick, deep blow of whatever had transpired was bleeding through in the form of emotion.

After stepping into the suite far enough that the door could be closed behind her Vanessa turned to look at Jean properly. Jean in a robe. Was it that late? She was fairly certain it wasn't but some people did a strange relaxing thing on Friday evenings, didn't they? Vanessa kept such strange hours she ceased to understand when was kick back and relax time for someone else. It didn't take her long to look at her friend and realize Jean was clearly in for the night. "Right. You're pretty much in for the night. I was gonna see if you--but you're robe-clad and I don't really want to unrobe you. Well...maybe. But definitely not tonight. And now I'm confusing myself between the innuendo and the actual meaning. Anyway I'm going to go. And let you get back to-" a hand gestured up and down Jean's body as she searched for a word. "Well, back to being old. Because we all feel like being senior citizens some days and if you've had one of those days I do not want to get in the way of your geriatric tendencies." Somehow that all managed to sound far less offensive than it should have. Or at least Vanessa hoped it had.

Jean knew Vanessa snarked when she was hurt. Well, she generally did it but even more so when wounded. And Vanessa was clearly wounded, emotionally anyway. She didn't mind it.

"Wait...Nessa. It's okay. I'm okay," Jean assured her with a faint smile as she reached out to gently put her hand on her shoulder.

"It'll take me literally a minute to change. It's easier than a uniform. I am well up for going somewhere. Where were you thinking of?"

Vanessa dodged the contact. She really wasn't in the mindset for it and maybe worried a little bit that the pressure in her chest would come back again and she'd lose it in some way. She hadn't ever had to deal with this before. Breaking up with Sam had been a very different situation. She didn't want to punch or slash or shoot things. She just wanted to drink until the emotional squall inside became muted enough to deal.

It wasn't until she'd taken a few steps back to ensure no comforting physical contact that Vanessa answered. "Harry's. But someone has to make sure I don't stab the stupid kid in the throat when he's a stupid kid at me. I don't have the patience for it or his whiny 'no one likes me because I'm a hick' schtick. I figure it's Friday so he's probably working."

Jean put her hands up when Vanessa flinched away. She should've known better.

"Sorry," she said. Sometimes she got touchy feely when she wanted to comfort someone. And in this instance, the person in question and the reason for comfort were two fold reasons not to.

"How about we get the table farthest way from the bar and I order the drinks?"

"That would be a brilliant plan. You see why I came to recruit you?" Talking to Jean also helped to distract her. That lead weight in her gut feeling was still there, but it wasn't as in her face as it had been when she knocked on the door. "We should have a personal teleporter so we don't have to walk over there in the cold. Unless you're planning to stay sober enough to drive back because I'm...probably not." Vanessa didn't generally get drunk. She liked to be in control of herself too much for that. Only once since she had come to New York could she recall getting sufficiently drunk. That had been with Garrison and Adrienne and resulted in him making them sing weird Canadian songs.

"If worse comes to worse we can call a taxi or someone here to come pick us up," Jean said.

She would've driven them home but she figured it'd be better to have Vanessa have someone to drink with instead of just staring at her over a glass of water as she downed one mug of lager after the other. Harry knew them pretty well. She could probably keep the car there overnight and just head over in the morning to pick it up.

"Be right back," she said as she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Vanessa set the hand-carved basket down on a table, suddenly wanting to be away from the labor of love. "Can I think sexy thoughts of you while you're in there? Loudly?" There wasn't the usual playful mischief in her voice when she said that, though. She was too busy staring down at the basket and its contents and trying to inch away from it.

"Why would you need my permission?" Jean shot back with a smile in her voice, playing the game with her if only to help with the distraction.

She was true to her word and in under a minute she had the door open. Glancing at Vanessa a moment, she made a louder than usual grab for her keys off the nightstand.

"Shall we?"

"You're a married woman. I feel like it's only fair you consent to the very, very dirty images I'd be trying to beam at you." The distraction helped a little. While she still didn't sound like she meant it, Vanessa did at least sling an arm around Jean once they were out in the hall. "Yes, we shall. You know, I don't remember the last time I had hard liquor. I feel like I might want to reacquaint myself with it. That's probably bad but," she shrugged. "Your couch would love a visitor tonight anyway, right?"

Jean laughed. "Well I appreciate your attempts to keep my fidelity intact by requesting permission though I'd imagine Scott might be more turned on than abhor those thoughts," she mused as she walked with Vanessa after pulling the door to behind them.

"As Logan would say...on a cold night like this, liquor will warm you up," Jean said. She paused.

"Or maybe that was my grandmother. Either way."

She then nodded. "My couch would indeed love a visitor, by the way. It's rather used to me napping on it between class and medlab duty so I can attest to its comfort."

"You should let me know the next dear old ball-and-chain are in town." She gave Jean a grin that was half-smirk. It looked genuine and a lot of the slouched over tense she'd had when she'd first showed up at Jean's door had dissipated as well. Vanessa was great at compartmentalizing. "I'd love to give him a practical demonstration and I've years of satisfied clients to attest to my skill should you require references."

Jean laughed again, mainly imagining the look on Scott's face at the prospect of seeing those demonstrations.

"I'll tell him to keep his calendar free during that weekend," she said with a grin. In reality the only person Scott wanted in bed with him was Jean and vice versa. But this was purely joking, both women knew that.

They headed for the motor pool. Jean decided an SUV might've been better suited for the snow and ice. Hopefully no one had borrowed the one she had in mind.

"Have you eaten?" The less she had eaten the quicker she would become drunk. She wasn't sure if she was going for that.

Vanessa nodded. "Yeah, a few hours ago. I wouldn't go near the romantic dinner that awaited me like a half hour ago, though." Wrong reaction. And it really would have been lovely if everything was fine between them. But she just couldn't see sitting down for a meal and having the conversation they had over dinner. Maybe he just hadn't at all anticipated the conversation they'd had. Vanessa had anticipated it, just not quite so vividly.

"Do you want to grab some greasy chili fries and/or nachos while we're there?" Jean asked, hoping the complete opposite of what a romantic dinner was supposed to be might sway her into eating. While drinking was a good way to drown sorrow, crouching over a toilet afterward was probably not something she wanted as a "reward" for that drinking.

As they entered the garage Jean smiled to herself as she found her vehicle of choice still there. She unlocked the door and started to climb in.

The choices of food were under consideration as Vanessa climbed into the passenger side. "Denny's. Greasy, onion rings, chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, all that. Think Harry would let us bring take out in? I mean, he doesn't have greasy chicken fingers and the like." She figured maybe if it was food he didn't serve then he wouldn't mind. Vanessa's stomach made a sound she took for agreement on the food of choice. Greasy diner or pub fare was vastly preferred to anything involving candlelight at this point.

"Since he serves his own food he might object, but perhaps we could bribe him," Jean said. She hadn't really tried it except for maybe a birthday cake in her time but that was a special circumstance.

She started up the car, listening to the purr of the engine as it roared to life. Scott had built into her a certain appreciation of vehicles over time.

"I think the since we will be paying for copious amounts of booze he'll probably be more lenient," she said as she let the car warm up.

"Mm...copious amount of booze." Vanessa made an appreciative purring sound and sank into her seat. "Maybe if we bring him some, too. Or, you know, find someone willing to shuttle us to a Denny's after. As long as no one has hit the puking part of drinking we should be good with eating after, yeah?"

"Depends on how drunk we are. If we get rowdy that may be a problem. They're more used to truckers and families than drunk people," Jean said with a smile.

"From what I hear Harry really likes their Moons over My-Hammy, though."

Vanessa's head rolled to the side so she could look fully at Jean and pout. "But I'm only fun when I'm rowdy. We could try bribing him with some Moons over My-Hammy. Also, who is the idiot that thought of that name? If there was a trend type thing with their menu it would be one thing, but there's not. Bad attempts at wordplay should be left off of menus."

Jean laughed. "I guess they probably did that on purpose so that people all over the world would groan..but they would also remember it," she said as she started to pull out of the drive.

"I'd also like to come back to Denny's some time and not all of us can become a completely different person on their next visit so bribery through ham sounds good to me," she said.

"Alright, then it's settled. Greasy food is priority one, bribing is two, copious amounts of alcohol three." With that settled, Vanessa grew quiet. She wondered if the mansion was supposed to be off limits after this. It was Lex's home. But she had people here she cared about. She had two adopted little sisters, Jean, Hank, Garrison... She wouldn't try to bar him from District X but she was sure he'd be the one cut deeper. He wore himself on his sleeve and Vanessa was already trying to push all of it down into a box she kept in a dark place where she wouldn't have to see it. The pressure in her chest was coming back.