Jean and Warren: Meet the Parents (Backdated)

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Warren invites Jean to Sunday night dinner with his parents.



There were very few family rituals that the Worthingtons followed, and even fewer rituals they even cared about but Sunday dinner was an absolute. The three of them would dress their best, attend the formal dining room where barbs disguised as pleasantries would be exchanged after which they would all retire to the drawing room. Kathryn would pretend to ignore the cigars and Scotch, while Warren would discuss business with his father as if they hadn't seen each other that same day.

At some point, Warren would comment on the time, his father would make an excuse about work to get to, and his mother would take a Valium with a glass of wine.

All perfectly ordinary to him. He wasn't sure what Jean would think.

"Don't take anything my mother says to heart," Warren warned her as he pulled into their driveway. "And my father is insincere. In fact, maybe smile and nod. That would be best. But not too much. My mother might comment on that.". He frowned. "This was a bad idea."

Jean stared up at the mansion that loomed ahead of them, a complete contrast to Charles's estate. Whereas the Xavier Mansion was warm and inviting, the Worthington manor was slick and modern, just like the very image that the family itself was trying to maintain. Rumor was that the architect, when renovating the decades old mansion, had been influenced by Santiago Calatrava.

"It'll be okay," Jean said reassuringly, tilting her head at the building. It resembled more a museum than anything. Look, don't touch. Frankly she was amazed Warren had come out as good-natured as he had. Luckily he had had Luz to help with that.

"It's just a couple of hours. I can handle it," she said. She smiled. "We can handle it. I didn't want you to have to do it alone."

The medical community had its fair share of 'superstars' who thought they were holier than thou because they could wield a scalpel the best. An underlying belief in the importance of status seemed to transcend boundaries, no matter what field you were in. She'd been through it before, she could do it again. The same principles applied.

Warren smiled at Jean. She really had no idea what she was walking into. For that matter, neither did he. His mother hadn't sounded impressed when he'd mentioned he was bringing a person, and she'd sounded even less impressed when Jean's pedigree was brought into question. Pedigree. As if they were nothing more than dogs on display.

"I do this every Sunday alone, but I appreciate you coming with me, my dear." Unbuckling his seatbelt, he paused before reaching over and giving her hand a light squeeze. "Honestly, if it gets too much, let me know. We can leave at any time, and I'm happy to argue with my mother about it later on."

"'My dear?'" Jean echoed with a smirk. "Does the nursing home know you got out?"

She shook her head, squeezing his hand back. "It'll be fine. I'm used to dealing with all walks of life. Besides, we can speak privately during dinner..." she tapped her temple.

~If you'd like.~ The words echoed gently in his mind.

"No one would know. Perfect for running commentaries."

That caught him off guard, and he didn't quite know what to do. He'd never had someone else's voice in his head before. In fact, he didn't even know what to do with his own voice most of the time.

"How does that work? I think a thought at you, and you get it?"

Jean nodded. "If I know you're thinking at me I can sense it. Most of the time I keep people's thoughts out behind mental walls. Like I said before...your thoughts are your own, they're sacred. But sometimes, if it's important, I use my telepathy as a sort of...walkie talkie system, like if I'm doing a mission. I can act a bit like a switchboard operator between multiple people, making sure other people can talk to one another without being heard by the wrong people."

She glanced him over. "If it bothers you, though, we don't have to. I know it can make people uncomfortable."

"I'll keep it in mind," he responded with a smile. It wasn't going to be his first choice, but it was always good to have a backup plan.

Exiting out of the car, he nodded to the valet waiting. His parents' home was always teeming with servants, and it wasn't something he even noticed anymore. The front door opened to show a housekeeper, in a proper uniform, patiently expecting them. "Good evening, Mr. Worthington," she stated.

He nodded to her, and motioned to Jean. "This is Dr. Grey. She is my guest for the evening." The housekeeper gave a slight bow and offered out her arm for Jean's jacket. "A pleasure, Dr. Grey."

Jean watched the hustle and bustle of the various people mulling about but kept her reactions neutral. She knew Warren's parents would be judging her, and tried not to think about the implications of this: going to dinner with someone's parents. It implied a big step. She wasn't sure if they'd reached that point yet. It'd only been the fourth date. But she was trying to take it one day at a time.

She gave the housekeeper a warm smile and gave her the jacket. "And you as well," she said. Every surface gleamed. It was like a showroom. She was almost afraid to breathe on something for fear she'd smudge it.

The housekeeper backed away quickly when she heard the footfalls of Warren Worthington II approaching the foyer from his study. "Son," he greeted with a curt nod, looking only at Warren and apparently not even seeing Jean. "Is something wrong with your watch? Would you like me to have it taken to a horologist for you? There must be something wrong with it, because if it was in working order you wouldn't be seven minutes late."

There was no point explaining to his father that the weather hadn't been cooperative, or that there had been an accident on the highway earlier. It was easier to simply smile and say, "No, that's quite alright, but I appreciate the offer. It's always nice to see that you have my best interests in mind." Warren turned towards Jean and motioned to her with his hand. "This is Dr. Jean Grey, a recent acquaintance of mine. I believe Mother was to inform you of her arrival?"

"I've been out of town and have only recently returned," Worthington II explained dismissively. "And yet I was still able to make it to dinner on time. What brings a recent acquaintance like yourself to family dinner, Doctor Grey?" he asked with a thin, false smile, offering his hand to Jean to shake.

Jean shook Warren's father's hand firmly, putting on a practiced smile, one of politeness and respect. Just because he seemed to be a despicable person didn't meant she had to show it. He was Warren's father. And Warren still loved him. Besides, Biotech's various horrible indiscretions still loomed, with Worthington Sr. at the head of it. Causing any sort of suspicion would only create problems.

"Your son and I met at one of the exhibition openings you and your family generously sponsored. We...hit it off, as it were. And when the occasion came up he asked me to join him. It's nice to meet you, sir. You have a lovely home. I apologize for the lateness of our arrival. There was a traffic accident that caused a delay."

Worthington II raised an eyebrow at this sycophantic woman his son had brought home to dinner. He hated sycophants. "Of course. And I imagine the radio in the vehicle was malfunctioning to make it impossible to ascertain traffic reports. These things happen. Technology today." He tsked with his tongue and shook his head sadly.

Mrs. Worthington was many things. Poised, beautiful, and deliciously rich. Still, no matter how much practice she had dealing with people over the years, she could never get through her family dinners without wine. Typically as many glasses as possible. She was half way through her first when her husband's voice reached her ears and, with a sigh, she decided that it was high time she made herself known. After all, Warren had told her that he was bringing some woman to their dinner tonight. Jackie? Jane? Something horribly mundane like that.

She moved gracefully from the kitchen into the next room, a plastic smile gracing her face.

"Warren! Darling, it's so good to see you!" She called, pressing a gentle kiss to her son's brow. Her gaze shifted down his body, before she looked back up at him. "Honey, how many times have I told you. Just because it's on sale doesn't mean you should buy it." She tsked with a tap to Warren's chest before her gaze turned to Jean. "Certainly your lovely lady friend can inform you of that." She continued. Her gaze narrowed. "I'm sorry, dear, where have my manners gone? I'm Kathryn Worthington. Warren told me of your arrival, but your name seems to have slipped my mind? Could you remind me?" The blonde asked.

When Jean saw Mrs. Worthington she was reminded of one of those rich women in a movie, the ones with their chin perpetually in the air and a permanently contemplative look on their face. Like they had grown bored with life some time ago and were running a scathing commentary in their head on everyone around them. It was an expression shared by some of the older doctors and their wives at social gatherings she occasionally attended. The ones who had been doctors for so long they'd padded their bank accounts and invested in enough lucrative property to buy a city block in Manhattan. She hadn't gotten that far yet. If that was to potentially be her future she hoped she wouldn't.

"Dr. Jean Grey," Jean said with a smile. Just two more hours. She was just there for Warren.

"And I think he looks great."

So maybe she wasn't going to make it through the night entirely without a few contrary barbs. That might be impossible.

Although he'd told himself he wouldn't use her powers, he couldn't help it.

~I am so sorry~

"Well.". Warren clapped his hands with a false cheer and a fake smile,not unlike that of his mother's. "As you pointed out, Father, we are running behind schedule, so perhaps we should make our way into the dining room. I'm sure Cook would be appalled if we let her masterpiece get cold."

"Actually, son, your mother had to let Cook go several days ago," Worthington Senior informed his son as he ushered them towards the dining room. He lagged behind so he could pour three gin martinis from the drinks cart in one of the sitting rooms and bring them to the table, not bothering to ask what Warren or Jean actually wanted, and not bothering to pour one for his wife, who had already been serving herself.

"Yes, the woman, bless her heart, was getting on in years. Her work was on the decline. I simply told her that her work was no longer up to par, before introducing her replacement. I'm quite sure that you'll find her cooking to be quite good." Mrs. Worthington stated, her voice full of false apologies and regret. refilling her wine glass from a nearby bottle. "Isn't that right, Warren, darling?" The blonde asked her husband.

"I trust your judgment implicitly, my dear," Worthington Senior said with a nod, though he sounded distracted as he put the martini glasses at the places set for Warren and Jean and took his own seat at the head of the table. His comment implied that he hadn't actually tasted anything the new cook had made. "But perhaps you'd do better to ask Martin about the cooking rather than me, since I've been out of town since the new cook was hired. It is Martin, isn't it, dear?" he asked in a casual tone, one that expressed a vague degree of actual interest in the man his wife was currently sleeping with.

"Michael, darling, Michael. And he hardly has time to eat." She answered back casually, running her fingers along her perfectly styled hair as she took another long draw of her wine. "Though perhaps I'll ask that sweet young thing of yours next time I see her. What was her name, Warren dear, Penelope? Patricia? Something to that effect. It's quite obvious that she likes to eat, I'm sure she'll have a beautifully crafted opinion for me." She finished

It was perhaps a testament to how normal this conversation was, that Warren didn't even register what his parents were saying. Picking up.his martini, he frowned. "Mother, how could you fire Cook? She'd been with the family for ages. Her mother was grandfather's cook. Besides," he sighed wistfully, "she made the best Beef Wellington."He took a sip of his martini. "And the girl's name is Peony. She's a delicate flower."

For a few brief moments, Jean Grey wondered if she'd walked onto the set of Arrested Development. Glancing between the three of them, Jean quickly snatched up her own martini, staring down into the glass like she could see the future in it. She took a drink to keep herself from saying something. It was hard to believe this was real.

"She is a delicate flower, yes," Worthington Senior responded, smiling pleasantly into his martini glass as the maid emerged from the kitchen with the salad plates. "Your mother did what was best for this family, son," he told Warren III in a tone that indicated the younger Worthington was not to question his mother anymore. "It's no less than is to be expected from any Worthington." He set his glass down and picked up his salad fork as his salad was placed in front of him. "Now, I suggest we cease discussing the person who cooks our food and turn our attention to eating it."

~~~

Dinner was a relatively quiet affair. The only sounds were of cutlery scraping on the porcelain dishes, and that of the steps of their maid.

Occasionally, Warren would toss Jean a smile, but he still didn't trust the telepathy thing. It was simpler to save any conversation for afterwards. He wouldn't put it past his mother to see he was lost in his own head, and then to comment on it. Now that Warren knew his father's animosity towards mutants, he didn't want to give him anymore fodder.

In the drawing room, for the usual scotch and cigars, Warren deftly intercepted his father before he could make another godawful martini.

"Would you like something to drink, Jean?". Warren asked as he reached the bar.

"A bourbon, if you have it," Jean said. That was it. If she had anymore she would probably do something she'd regret. Alcohol usually lowered her inhibitions. But she wanted to at least have something to occupy her. If she drank it slowly enough she could make it last, provided nothing happened that would make her need to chug it like a drunken frat boy in a beer pong match.

Here's hoping.

"Straight, on the rocks."

So far it had gone okay. The silence worked for her, even if it was incredibly awkward. It couldn't have gotten as awkward as before dinner, but the night was not over yet.

Pouring her drink, he handed it to her wordlessly. There was no sense in asking his parents. Wine for his mother, and another martini for his father. Warren dutifully mixed the drinks and proceeded to distribute them. No servants came into these rooms unless specifically requested.

"So Father," he said. "I understand you were setting up more labs in California. Care to fill me in?" May as well get something out of this dinner.

"Boys, lets not talk business with ladies present. You'd hardly wish to bore Dr. Grey and I to death, would you?" Kathryn stated, her voice sickeningly sweet as she raised her glass to her lips.

Warren smiled and nodded. "Of course not, Mother. In fact, why don't you tell me what you've been up to this week?"

"I had tea with Mrs. Morel, the other day. She's a two bit skank of course, but I could hardly be impolite to our neighbor. I've been out shopping, designing a bit in my spare time. You know, darling. Usual things. But enough about me, Warren dear, perhaps you should let Dr. Grey enlighten your father and I as to what you've been up to lately? Is he showering you with gifts, my dear? That's usually the first step he takes. My Warren likes to take care of his ladies." She continued, stressing the plurality of the word. "He gets that from his father." She continued with a sharp glance toward her husband.

Jean quirked a brow, feeling the intense spotlight return back to her. She'd felt it a couple of times during dinner but Warren had managed to steer it away. Still, since she was new, fresh meat, a curiosity. The spotlight inevitably came right back. Why wouldn't it?

"He's been very good to me," Jean confirmed. They didn't need to know she turned down some of his gifts. They were far too much. She didn't need or have room for have that stuff.

"But what I would like to know is more about Mrs. Morel. I don't know who she is but you had me a two-bit skank," she said with a smirk and a sparkle in her eye. Baiting, she was baiting. Bad Jean.

Kathryn quirked her eyebrow, but gave Jean a slight grin.

"Well the woman is new money, you know. She married some poor soul and, surprise, surprise, he kicked it not too long after. She thinks that puts her on my level, the poor dear. Bad breeding AND all that plastic surgery make for a poor mix. I suppose I should pity those that can't age as gracefully as I can, but..." She began with a shrug, taking a sip of her wine before continuing. "And the men she parades in and out of there! I mean, having a little niblet on the side is fine, far be it from me to judge, but publicly parading them around? Dr. Grey, that is what we call poor form." She finished.

"She's single now, is she not?" Jean said, casually taking a sip of her wine. "I would say it shows she has power, new money or not. And she knows it. Situations reversed when it a man does it..." She ignored the interest from the male Worthingtons in the room. "...he's admired. He's the stud. But when a woman does it she's a slut. Now how is that right? I say...good for her. She's taking charge. There needs to be more of that in the world, don't you think?"

After a certain point, and enough alcohol, she ceased to care what Worthington Sr. thought.

"My dear, I am all for women having the power, believe me. I'd just as soon throw a man under the bus for the same reasons, darling. But in this society, certain rules must be followed. If you don't wish to follow the rules, fine by me. But do not presume to put yourself on my level." She answered.

"Who says she's trying to be on your level?" Jean said, resting her chin against her knuckles. "Did she? Society is an ever changing thing. If it wasn't we'd still be wearing pelts and trying to make fire in caves. You're right, maybe she's not wanting to follow the rules. They're never consistent anyway. And maybe she's not trying to be on your level. Maybe she's just trying to be herself. I think that's admirable, in her own way."

"Hmmm...I must say you have quite a bit of gall my dear. I cant say wearing your ovaries on the outside like that is always attractive, but good on you for standing up to me, I suppose. Just don't make a habit of it, alright?" Kathryn stated with a wink as she drained the last of her wine.

Warren didn't know if he was enjoying this or not. All he knew was this was not going to end well, even if it did seem like his mother was amused by Jean. Downing his drink, he cleared his throat. "Well. This has been lovely," he said, setting his now empty glass on the table beside him. "However, we do have other commitments, and I wouldn't dream of keeping you both from yours. Until next week, Mother. Father." No hugs or kisses were exchanged. Just a simple head nod.

Warren the Elder barely looked up from his Wall Street Journal where he'd buried his head during his wife's conversation with the Grey woman. He would commend his wife for her tact later, but for now it was all he could do to keep himself from vehemently lecturing this obviously misguided woman and leave the situation to Kathryn. "See you at the office, son." He went back to reading his paper, but then thought of something and raised his head once more. He still wasn't looking at any of the people in the room, just at some vague point ahead of him, but it was as close as he would get to becoming engaged in the situation. "Oh. Cook had left a note before her departure reminding us of your birthday several weeks ago. I believe there's a cheque in an envelope for you somewhere. Or perhaps we had it delivered. I don't quite recall. Have you received it?"

Warren‎ nodded. He had the urge to say something cheeky, like he spent it al on drugs, but it was a large amount. "Yes, thank you for reminding me of that. I need to deposit it. The card was lovely. Cook always picked the best cards," he added wistfully to no one in particular. His parents had already lost their interest in him, so he guided Jean out of the home.‎

It wasn't until they were back in the car that he turned to Jean and smiled as he started his vehicle. "Well. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Slipping on her seatbelt, Jean was trying to figure out how to respond.

"It was...different," she finally managed. It was clear that this was how Warren lived and knew no other way. She knew he'd probably act the same as his parents if it hadn't been for Luz raising him.

"I don't think they'll be inviting me back, though," she said. And she wasn't terribly bothered by that.

Warren simply gave a dismissive look in return. "I go out of familial duty, not because I enjoy it. Trust me, if you never get invited again, it's not the end of the world."

Pulling out of the driveway, he gave her a quick smile. "I'm glad my father reminded me of that birthday card though. Let's go spend an obscene amount of money. My treat."