When Scotty Met Jeannie
Note from Alicia: Cora and I were bored. Hence, we wrote backstory fic/log. How Scott met Jean has been mentioned before, so we figured that was an obvious candidate for a scene. Set ten years ago, when Scott was 16 and three months into his stay at the mansion, and Jean was 21 and just coming home for a summer break from college. From such slapstick beginnings are epic romances made. Really.
Jean smiled brightly at the cabbie as he handed her her bag. The ride from the train station wasn't terribly long, nor the train ride before it, but it had been a long term, and it would be good to be home for the break. #I'm home, Professor,# she sent, reaching for the only mind she could find reliably every time and smiling at his comfortingly familiar, #Welcome back.# She could vaguely sense Hank's presence, and a few others in the building, but not much more. Hefting her bag she started up the steps to the poarch and headed inside.
Inside, Scott Summers had seen the cab from the window of his bedroom, where he'd been trying to do the reading the Professor had assigned him during their tutoring session yesterday afternoon. The cab had pulled in too close to the front porch for him to see who had gotten out, but he didn't need to see, he knew. Hank and the Professor had been looking forward to today, to this mysterious Jean person coming home. Self-consciously adjusting the glasses he was still getting used to, he headed towards the central staircase, figuring he could at least get a look at her before she saw him. The way Hank talked... well, Hank talked like he had a thing for her, but Scott supposed that was understandable. They were both old, after all. In their twenties.
Jean paused when she entered the main hallway, smiling. Her eyes picked out a few changes, small things which had been added or removed, but in all of the big ways it was the same as it always was, and it was very much 'home'. Occasionally much to her parents discomfiture. It looked like there were a few new additions to the collection of photographs on the little table by the stairs, and as she was in no real rush to start unpacking, Jean set her bag down to look at them. A rather sullen looking young man peered out of several of them, glasses obscuring his face in every single one. So, the Professor had a new student. She'd have to ask Hank about him.
Scott moved as soundlessly as he could down the stairs to the landing, craning his neck to try and see the person who was standing there in the hall, apparently looking at the pictures on the table. Tall, he got that much, and he'd guessed that from the pictures he'd seen of her, even if she'd been ducking away, clearly camera-shy, in so many of them.
Jean's head tilted sideways, startled as she caught the flicker of a thought... Not directed at her... About her? Blinking, she raised her head and found herself looking straight into the very same set of glasses-covered eyes. "Oh, hello."
Maybe it was the clear, sweet voice. Or the face that wouldn't have looked out of place on the cover of one of those fashion magazines that you saw on newstands. Or maybe it was her eyes. He might not be able to tell what color they were, but they looked right through him, and...
Whatever it was, his balance abruptly decided to desert him, and Scott tumbled down the last half-dozen or so steps to the foyer floor, cringing as he did so. Growth spurts sucked. He was so clumsy lately.
Jean rushed over, kneeling down next to the boy, not noticing or particularly caring that the motion brought her skirt edging up into the 'indecent' range. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said quickly, berating herself - how many times had the Professor had to tell her not to react to people's thoughts if they weren't used to it, and clearly he had thought she didn't know he was there. "Are you all right?"
"Um..." Wow. Scott blinked up at her, trying to think of what to say. Words. Oh! She'd asked him a question, hadn't she? "'M fine," he muttered, and male pride chose that moment to kick in. From the feel of his face, he was making a good stab at matching the color of his glasses.
Jean blushed faintly as well, having caught the mental 'wow', which put the way he was staring at her in a whole new light. "I'm glad to hear that," she said, trying not to sound flustered. "Um, do you need a hand..." Cause he was still lying there. Looking at her.
"No, I'm okay," Scott said hurriedly, scrambling back to his feet. He'd have a few bruises, from the feel of it, but he'd had worse during the time he'd been blind by necessity. "Um. Sorry? I don't usually... fall down stairs."
Oh, laughing at him would be mean, but Jean had this sudden flash of him as this little puppy, all hands and feet and he wasn't quite sure where they went all the time. It was really cute, in a way. Downright adorable. "I believe you," she said, managing to keep the laugh down to an amused sparkle in her eyes and a faint smile tugging at her lips. Standing herself, she offered him her hand. "Hello. I'm Jean Grey."
"Um. Scott. Summers," he said, taking her hand a bit tentatively. "I got here, uh, three months ago? The Professor... um, it's very nice here," he said, turning a deeper shade of red as he shied away from the memory of just how he'd wound up here.
With his hand in hers she could see farther into his mind, the contact a focus. She caught a flicker of the memory, but could also feel how deeply he didn't want to talk about it. "I'm glad you're settling in well, then," Jean said, releasing his hand. Prying would be rude. "Do you mind if I ask what your mutation is?"
"My eyes." Scott folded his arms across his chest, almost protectively. "Hank calls them optic blasts. They don't turn off," he muttered, looking away. "That's why I have to wear the glasses. But don't get me wrong," he added in a rush, not wanting to sound like he was ungrateful. "The glasses are better than having to keep my eyes closed all the time, or b-blowing anything up."
Jean considered him seriously, then nodded. "I'm... telekinetic," she said, hesitating about what to tell him. A lot of people didn't like the idea of having somebody who could read their minds. But... not telling him would be unfair, and he must have been dealing with the Professor, and it wasn't like she was anywhere near that powerful. "And I have some telepathy."
"Like the Professor?" There wasn't any nervousness in Scott's reaction; it was as if the similarity to the Professor was enough to assauge any that he might have otherwise felt. "Oh. That must be hard sometimes."
The relief that he wasn't afraid of her, which seemed more important than usual with this awkward young man - probably just because if he was uncomfortable with her, it would make all of her vacations more stressful, yes - won him a real smile. "Kind of, but I'm not nearly as powerful." Shrugging slightly, she tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. "It is, sometimes."
"Do you not use it much, like him? Erik says-" Scott's jaw clamped shut on whatever else had been about to come out. It felt disloyal, in a way, but he hated it when Erik lectured the Professor. You couldn't even really call it arguing, because the Professor didn't shout back.
Jean's eyes narrowed at the surge of emotion surrounding that thought. So, things hadn't gotten any better while she'd been away. Jean really wished her kinetics instructor would just stay out of discussions of telepathy. "No, I don't use it much, or I try not to. It's hard, especially if there are a lot of people around. But... nobody really likes the idea of somebody who can listen in on their thoughts."
"I guess." He listened to what was said - could hardly avoid it, given that Erik tended to have one of those booming voices that echoed through the whole house when he was angry, which seemed to be most of the time, but he didn't really understand it. "Um," he said, looking down at her bags. "Can I help? I mean, I should be studying, but I was going to take a break anyway..."
"Oh, ah, yes, thank you." She'd almost forgotten she'd only just gotten back. "My room is the one across from Hank's. And.. and yours?" She was only just making small talk. Really.
"The one beside Hank's. He said it was so that he could keep an eye on me," Scott grumbled, picking up one of the bags. "I'm sixteen, I don't need a babysitter..."
Sixteen, ye gods. Jean wasn't sure she could remember being sixteen. Well, she could, but a lot of that time was things she'd had to promise the Professor she would never, ever mention to anyone. And goodness knew Hank hadn't been much better. Perhaps the Professor had finally found a student who wouldn't have turned his hair grey if he still had any. But, Jean mused, glancing at Scott again as she collected her other bag, probably not. "Hank is twenty two and he still needs a minder to keep out of trouble," Jean offered. "I suspect it's for both your own goods."
Scott pondered that, apparently very seriously. "He does get kind of hyper at times, doesn't he? I didn't know what to make of him at first."
Jean didn't know what to make of Scott, personally. He was just so very... Well, now that he wasn't stumbling over his words and falling down the stairs, it was hard to think of him as young, persay. "Yes, he does. I usually ration his sugar intake when I'm here. And I dread the day he discovers esspresso."
They reached the top of the stairs and Scott turned down the hall, eyeing her as much as he could without being too blatant about it. Which was hard, because he had to kind of tilt his head in her direction because of how little peripheral vision the glasses gave him. "So how long are you staying?"
"I don't really have any plans this summer," Jean said, "so possibly the whole three months, unless something comes up. I'm behind on a lot of my training and I really need to get my shields in shape before next term. Trying to deal with medschool otherwise will make me crazy." Jean completely missed that Scott was watching her, still not havin gotten used to the idea that she was worth watching or that boys would tend to do so, even after four years of finally going to school with other students.
"Oh. Uh... cool, then," Scott said a bit sheepishly as they reached the door to her room. "I spend a lot of time in my room. Or the library. I have a lot to catch up on. I'll try and think quietly?"
Jean smiled at that. "If I couldn't shut out one mind studying, I'd have gone crazy one week into my first term at college. But the thought is appreciated. And hey, don't spend all your time working. All work and no play makes Scott a dull boy, and it's summer vacation for you, too."
Scott gave her an uncomprehending look. "I haven't been in school for..." He stopped, trying to think. "Two... no, two and a half years. I have too much to catch up on for summer vacation."
"If you think like that, you'll work yourself into exhaustion. You'll catch up when you catch up, I'm sure, and today is too nice a day to spend in the library." Opening the door to her room, Jean set the smaller case inside and held out her hand for the other. "Don't make me make you take breaks. If I can get Hank out of his lab I can get you out of the library..."
Scott's expression somehow managed to be both polite and stubborn at the same time as he handed her the bag. "Okay," he said, giving the definite impression that she could try, but success was far from guaranteed. "I... uh, I guess I should go back to my studying anyway. You probably want to get settled in or something."
Jean crossed her arms, giving him a look which suggested that she could be remarkably persistent. But all she said was, "Thank you for the help with my bags." She would find Hank, first, and get a little more information before pushing the boy. And then tonight she would kidnap both boys for dinner in town at her favorite pizza parlour. Just see if she didn't.
