The Dance Continues
Note from Cora: In this one, a summer tk lesson goes a bit harder than it probably should have, and Jean suffers the restults. Scott doesn't quite play the Knight in Shining Armor, but he comes pretty darn close for a sixteen year old. And neither of them actually passed out or fell this time, so that's good.
Jean was completely unaware of anyone or anything as she moved through the mansion by memory. Her eyes were squeezed almost shut against the pain in her head. Originally she'd planned on going back to her room and sleeping until the world ended or her head stopped hurting, whichever came first, but getting up the stairs proved too daunting. Instead, she turned into the main sitting room and collapsed onto the couch nearest the door with a whimper.
A few minutes later, a head appeared around the doorframe, and Scott studied Jean worriedly as he crept into the room. He'd noticed her leaving one of the rooms downstairs and followed her because she looked awful, and the fact that she hadn't noticed him was just more proof that something was wrong. She'd been practicing her TK, he knew that much...
"Jean?" he asked very softly, stopping several steps away from the couch.
She tried to say 'yes?' or 'don't worry about me' or something equally reassuring sounding, but it came out "Ow." And looking over, or even opening her eyes was definitely not going to happen. Giving up on being stoic and not looking stupid in front of Scott, she added "Painkillers?" in a pathetic little voice.
Scott gazed down at her with a sober, worried expression. "Okay. I'll be right back," he said, and darted soundlessly out of the room, returning within two minutes with a bottle of the stronger type of daily painkillers and a glass of water. He crouched down beside the couch, handing her the glass and then opened the bottle. "How many?"
Working on sitting up so she wouldn't drown trying to take them, Jean asked, "What's the maximum on the label? I'll take twice that." Cracking her eyes open, she gazed blearily at him before shutting them again. "Why are there two of you?"
"Because I have an evil twin?" Scott asked with an uneasy little smile, and shook three of the pills out into his hand, then placed them in her limp one. "That's all it says you're supposed to take. I don't think you should take twice the maximum."
Opening her eyes again Jeanlooked down at her hand. "Looks like six to me," she told him before popping them into her mouth. The medicine and water was swallowed, and she even managed to wait until he took the glass away from her again before she collapsed back against the couch again. "Erik is a sadist. My brain is trying to dribble out my ears."
"Did it work, at least?" Scott ventured hesitantly. "Whatever you were trying to do, I mean." He hoped so. He'd hate to think Jean drove herself into this kind of state with nothing to show for it. His own frustration over his powers training was talking there, he supposed.
A very small, self satisfied smile drifted onto Jean's lips, although her eyes remained firmly shut. "Yep." And he'd had to take back his accusation that she hadn't been practicing at all while she was away, too, which was almost worth the headache on it's own.
"Cool," Scott said with a smile. "That's really great, Jean." He was surprised by how happy he was for her, given his own frustrations. Maybe he wasn't such a selfish person after all? He set the glass down carefully on the floor.
Jean could hear the smile in his voice, and turned towards him, wincing slightly at the motion. "Hey," she said, "I think I'm going to just pass out for a couple hours down here. Don't think I can make it upstairs. Would you wake me before dinner? Am going to need food after all this..."
"I could help you upstairs," he said with a little frown. "You're liable to be stiff if you fall asleep on that couch. It's not particularly comfortable."
"The idea of vertical is not terribly appealing," Jean said. "Actually, the idea of moving period isn't terribly appealing," she added, wincing as she shifted slightly. "But you're probably right. But is stiff from sleeping on the couch worse than stiff from falling down the stairs?"
"I'm not going to let you fall down the stairs," Scott said immediately, a bit affronted by the suggestion. "I'll walk along behind you to make sure. Course," he said, grinning suddenly, "if you fall up the stairs it's entirely your own fault."
Even with her eyes shut, Jean could hear the grin in his voice. "Walking along behind me, so not going to cut it. Unless you've got some evil plan to laugh at me when I walk into a wall. Or fall up the stairs, cause it's a very real possibility."
"I'd never laugh at you, Jean," Scott said, a little too earnestly. Mostly because she'd kick his ass if he did. He was almost positive of that.
"Glad to hear it." Jean could sort of hear her own voice taking on that faraway 'I'm mostly asleep already' tone as the painkillers began to dull the sharp edges of her mind and her weariness started to show. "Although they do say 's good to be able t' laugh at yoursel'."
"Come on." He took her hands and hauled her upwards as gently as possibly. Maybe he should go get Hank? Of course, then Hank would carry her upstairs or something, be her knight in shining armor and all, and Scott's jaw set very determinedly. He could make sure Jean got upstairs himself.
Her feet on the ground Jean sat up straight through a sheer effort of will (and pride). Because as tempting as just collapsing into Scott's arms as punishment for making her get up was, it would be undigifnied. "Mean. Very mean. Unless you're planning on putting me to bed. Bed would be nice." Working on standing up and not falling over, Jean wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying, just sort of babbling.
Scott tried not to turn red at where his mind was going, suddenly. Down, hormones... "I could steer you in the direction of bed? Since you probably need a nap and all," he said, babbling just as much.
It was probably just as well that, even with him still holding onto her hands, Jean's brain hurt to much for her to pick up what he was thinking. Death by blush would not have been fun for either of them. "Steering is good," she said, eyeing her four feet and wondering why they seemed to be moving on their own, unaware that she was swaying slightly where she stood.
