Disclaimer: All of it is Marvel's,
none of it is mine.
"Come on, you two. Shake a leg. As it
is we're going to be there all day as it is."
Jean Grey folded her arms in the passenger seat of the Range
Rover. Scott was behind the wheel. "Did we have
to do this -- with all of us at once?" he asked,
hunkering down beside his wife.
"Yes," Jean retorted. "I don't especially
want to go through it four separate times."
"Just a second, sugah," Rogue yelled out the window.
"Ah'm tryin' to remember which ID ah was usin'!"
"Would you not worry about it and just get down here?"
Scott sighed and leaned back against his seat. I knew
when Logan came down for breakfast, sniffed the air, and said
he was getting the hell out of Dodge, I should've listened.
Jean glowered and he felt her impatience through the psionic
rapport Scott shared with her, so he honked the horn.
From one of the upstairs windows, Remy came flying -- Wait.
Remy can't fly. Tumbling.
The Cajun picked himself up, dusted himself off, in as elegant
a gesture of 'I meant to do that' as possible, sauntered over
to the car, and said, "Rogue say tell y'all she be down
in a minute." He leaned in conspiratorily to whisper
to Scott. "Do me a solid, mon ami? Stop at de candy shop
while dey gone an' pick up a pound or two of Godiva, neh?"
Scott nodded sympathetically. "That's not a bad idea.
I'm taking Jean to the Japanese Steakhouse in Salem Center
Jean smiled, and the effect was like the sun breaking through
thunderous clouds. "Oh, Scott, really? We haven't had
a night out in weeks!"
Scott smiled hesitantly. "I ...thought you'd like a
night out, away from it all."
Remy winced as Jean's expression darkened again, and beat
a hasty retreat.
"Are you saying I'm not fit for mixed company?!"
"I didn't say that, darling," Scott said in a defensive
whisper. "I just honestly thought you'd like a night
Jean regarded her husband dubiously but seemed content to
leave the answer at that.
Rogue alighted beside the car, in tears.
"What's the matter?" Scott asked, hesitantly.
"Ah still can't remember which ID ah used last time
ah renewed mah driver's license. An' since mah purse got lost
in that fight we had with Alpha Flight, ah ain't got mah driver's
license to remind me!" She burst into tears again.
"Don't worry about it, hon," Jean said soothingly.
"We'll take care of it."
Scott leaned over to kiss Jean. "You're wonderful. You
take care of everything. I love you." Jean, pleasantly
surprised, kissed him back.
Rogue opened the back door just as the Summerses kissed,
then burst from normal sniffles to full-out bawling. "Oh,
Gawd! Y'all get t'touch an' kiss an' everythang!" She
pulled herself under control. "Sorry. Ah should be okay
by lunchtime. The herbal tea ah had for mah cramps an' the
one ah had for mah emotions ain't kicked in yet."
"Betsy!" Jean shouted. "Come now or we're
leaving without you."
Betsy came, presumably in response to a psionic summons piggybacked
on the verbal one. She was wearing one of Hank's sweatshirts.
It came past her fingertips, which was why she was rolling
up the sleeves. She had on a pair of jeans, as well. Bobby's,
by the blown-out knees; she looked nothing at all like the
customarily sharp-dressed former-model.
"What are you staring at?!" she snapped, sensing
Scott's stare. "None of my clothes fit properly because
I'm retaining water!"
Mental note. Two pounds of Godiva chocolate.
"Buying chocolate for other women?!" Jean demanded,
closing a telekinetic fist around Scott's throat.
Scott choked out an unintelligible protest.
"Just drive. And don't think this lets you off the hook
Scott Summers, knowing better than to say another word, drove.
Just my luck to need Jean's telepathy so we can all get
our driver's licenses renewed at the DMV -- and just my luck
for her, Rogue, and Betsy to all have PMS. Sheesh.
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