From Ashes (phoenix_rising) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-03-02 15:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, emma frost (white queen), jean grey (phoenix) |
While we’re eating, would you care for a dance?
Who: Jean and Emma
What: Valentine's date, telepathy training
when: 2/13, day before
where: a restaraunt and also the mind scape
status: complete
Despite several training sessions, Jean hadn’t lowered most of her barriers to Emma. It was for both their own safety and peace of mind, though eventually Jean would have to let her in entirely. She wasn’t sure when she was ready for that.
Maybe after an actual date. Brunch hadn’t counted and neither had their training sessions, so this qualified as an actual, real live date.
And her dreams hadn’t shown them getting along much, so there was the occasional problem waking up and having Very Mean Thoughts. It wasn’t fair to Emma and Jean always felt upset when she woke up like that.
So she went all out for their date. A reservation at a very chic restaurant, a show, and she’d even gotten Emma’s favorite chocolates. Jean wore the dress she’d bought the day they kissed, and she had another surprise if the evening went well enough. They did still have their bet and where was the fun if there was no temptation?
Really, Emma had been looking forward to this for the last few weeks. She and Jean may be meeting regularly to work on their powers, and Emma was largely aware it was more for her benefit than anything else. Magius had produced the device to aide Emma in not rendering her work force brain dead from overworking her mind, but the aim was to learn to fully control her powers.
But spending time together only strengthened their friendship, and while that was important, they were aiming on much more than that, weren’t they. She hadn’t bothered joining in on the office gossip about Valentine’s plans, but she had left early, shortening the workload for the day purely because she was feeling generous to others just as giddy as she (although she hid it much better than Stacy ever could) to get herself ready for the date.
Fussing over what to wear was something extraordinarily new for Emma -usually she knew she looked fantastic in everything, but this was less about being fantastic and more about impressing Jean (which she really shouldn’t still be so caught up in doing, but old habits die hard). Settling on a silky smooth opal dress with a fishtail cut, not too much in the cleavage department, but enough, Emma curled the loose strands that fell from her sloppily constructed but tidy enough half bun before declaring herself finally ready for the date.
Their friendship was something that Jean cherished. It only proved what the people in the dreams had tried to teach her, and what she’d tried to teach so many others. Appearances were only skin deep and anyone could be a friend. Or more. More than once Jean had sent just the barest fraction of a dirty thought Emma’s way, typically in the middle of Emma’s work day.
At this rate they were likely to start up a telepathic affair before a physical one.
Jean was happy to be impressed. Emma had always managed to select the right outfit for the right occasion, but she’d only ever seen Emma in date-wear once, and that was years ago when Emma was trying to impress someone else. This was different.
Since Emma really shouldn’t be caught dead in Jean’s clunker, she’d rented a nice car for the night, pulling up and getting out. She walked up to the door and knocked. She could have telepathically knocked, but this was a special occasion. And Jean was nervous.
Emma was fairly certain that part of it was to see who snapped first, part of their wager. And at first she hadn’t been sure if it was her own thoughts or if they were little snippets of Jean’s thoughts. Then it became apparent that Jean was a minx who liked to play dirty and Emma had just smirked slyly any time those little thoughts came through.
Usually, Emma wouldn’t answer the door herself -she’d lived a life with privilege, moving past that might be rather difficult- but for once, since she knew exactly what it was, she decided to send away her two person staff at the house she owned and do this herself. Jean was expected after all. Checking her make up one last time, Emma answered the door with a smile while grabbing her shawl in case it got chilly.
“Bang on time, as expected.” And that dress still made Emma’s breath catch.
Jean stared for a long moment, a smile plastered to her lips as she tried to recover. Or say something, or anything. Her mind was momentarily distracted by Emma's choice of phrase and the gutter in which she found herself, but she recovered quickly and nodded her head at Emma. "You look great. Everyone else is going to be beyond jealous."
She offered her her arm, glad she'd spent the time to really dress up for this. Keeping up with Emma had never really been a game she'd played, but it was good to know she could pull it off. "Are you ready?"
“Well, we both know how much I like that dress on you.” Really, it was just perfect in all the right places, and Jean really should show off that figure of hers more often. Emma was more than looking forward to the jaw dropping stares it would attract.
With a genuine smile, which Emma was finding herself prone to more and more with Jean, Emma took the arm offered and let the door click locked behind her. “Absolutely,” because Emma was more than ready to go. “Where are we going?”
“I know.” Jean felt a little thrill down her spine. The dress was something she wouldn’t typically wear, but it did look good on her and Emma was a bad influence. It was probably good to step out of one’s comfort zone now and again anyway.
“First we have reservations at this place called Splashes. Has a view of the ocean and if the timing is right we’ll have the sunset to watch while we eat.” She led the way to the car. “And after dinner we have a concert.” There’d been a music festival sponsored by one of the local philharmonics, and Jean had found a show that she thought would appeal to Emma.
Comfort zones were all well and good, and Emma understood them, she had her own. But there was something exhilarating about venturing out of them. A little peek here and there.
It all sounded ridiculously romantic, and Emma had read a review of Splashes that did speak highly of their service and the view, apparently Jean wasn’t kidding about going all out with the planning. “That does sound lovely.” And thus the bar was set. “Have you been to the restaurant before?”
“No, I haven’t. The reviews sounded good.” She opened the door for Emma, then got in herself. This car was several times fancier and more complicated than any car she’d ever driven before, but it was really swanky and nice inside. It made her want to trade in her clunker but she couldn’t really afford one like this on her salary. This night alone was going to be painful enough as it was. But worth it. She glanced at Emma. Definitely worth it.
“How has work been treating you?”
So far, in this area, Emma hadn’t found a review that was terribly off the mark. It wasn’t that they were all gleaming, simply that they were largely honest. Presumably in an area that was heavy in small, local businesses, it cut out a lot of the corporate sharp shooting. Which boded well for a nice meal to at least complement the date.
“Not terrible,” considering the few attempts at spying, secrets being traded - of course they were false secrets and Emma was the one masterminding them, it was hardly the point. “The usual really, a few business deals, the board constantly enquiring as to where I’m intending on taking this side project. Nothing terribly interesting.” Save for her brother and his apparent crisis of competency but, mostly, that was personal rather than business.
“Hardly as exciting as educating young minds. Are you enjoying teaching these west coast scene kids?”
“Yes, actually.” Jean smiled at Emma, before returning her eyes to the road. “They’re smarter than a lot of media would have you believe, they just need better direction. And a better syllabus but I have to work with what I have. Teaching is so much about tests and not enough about students and learning, but there are ways to fight the system.”
Emma’s work sounded like it was par for the course.
“Well, I’m sure they’ll be lucky to have such a focused and dedicated teacher,” Emma just smirked, mostly teasing about their little ‘training’ sessions during working hours. Hardly anything that anyone could prove, however it was a little distracting from the working day.
Emma usually took an impromptu lunch when she and Jean started telepathically communicating. “I suppose we should count ourselves somewhat lucky, there was less internet when we were younger,” almost none at all really, “less to rot our brains with.”
But also less access to global news and to the minute updates on current events. A double edged knife right there.
Sometimes distracting was exactly what the doctor ordered, and Jean felt like it was a good way to tease and flirt without going overboard. Besides, text messages could be tracked or read. She shrugged a shoulder. "It's surprisingly useful and helpful, especially if you teach the kids how to find reliable sources for research."
She almost had the sense they were being followed, and she glanced in the mirror, but nothing seemed wrong. "TV is worse."
“Which is why I only have Netflix, I’d rather choose what I want to rot my brain with than listen to the constant drivel on the news or those ridiculous talk shows.” Besides, everything was available on the internet now and if she needed to find something out, Emma would just read a newspaper.
“Although I dare say a lot of them may find life entirely more interesting in this little slice of the country.” Given that they could end up just like them. Emma dearly hoped there was an age limit on that for children.
“They have some of those shows on in the teachers lounge and we’re not allowed to change it. Principle’s orders. The school board in this county is ridiculously Republican.” Which Jean found to be a bad thing, since school boards that leaned that way tended to strangle funding and ignore what was actually good for kids. Anything to “save” tax payer dollars.
“Do you want me to buy your school? I could do it.” And really, Emma sometimes did those things just for the sheer hell of it -she owned a golf course just to piss people off, and she rarely even bothered going to play golf. It was terribly dull and Emma absolutely would not give up her heels for anything. “Private schools do offer a little more leeway with their teaching.”
Not a lot, and maybe not in a good way.
"Allow me to think that offer over," Jean joked. The ocean came into view, and she turned down a street towards Splashes. There were good things and bad things about private schools, but she didn't think most of her kids could afford one anyway.
"This place is swanky."
Honestly, Emma would likely look into it, even if it was just a joke. See about the in’s and out’s of it all, financially speaking and legally so. Even not purchasing the whole school, there would be ways around a few of their ridiculous little habits. Emma didn’t believe that politics had a place in teaching -other than educating on the importance of it and the options available.
“Oh, isn’t it just.” Which did explain Jean’s choice of dress just as much as just because it was stunning on her. “You are certainly setting the bar high.”
Politics in teaching was exhausting, even if it was just teacher's lounge politics. Jean tired of it, at least in her dreams faculty politics could be entertaining to an extent.
Jean got out of the car, even going as far as getting the door for Emma. She offered her an arm. "Preemptive strike, since you set the bar high in general."
“Such a darling,” Emma took the offered arm with a smirk, resting her hand over Jean’s arm. Affection was just so easy right then that Emma really wasn’t looking too far into things at all. “I really don’t think that should be part of our competitive streak.”
Because Emma rarely thought about things like price, she hadn’t since she was young. There was a period after her college days where she stopped spending just as much during her snit with her father, but after she began earning exceptional money herself from working with Sebastian, Emma’s spending habits returned to normal. She had disposable income that others couldn’t fathom, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect that from others.
Besides, when it came to Jean, money wasn’t really an object in Emma’s opinion.
"Fair enough." It was a contest Jean was destined to lose, at least on a financial level. But it was nice sometimes to pull off something fancy. Part of being human was spoiling yourself and those you cared about, after all.
Their table was better than Jean had expected, with a view of the ocean that made her feel like they were almost on the shore. The sun was just starting to set, and Jean was glad they'd made it. She'd noticed storm clouds moving in from the mountains. Having their sunset ruined by rain would have been disappointing.
It was a very nice place, not overly crowded but not exactly empty either. It definitely helped to set that romantic atmosphere too. Some nice wine, the sunset, the sea, very much the picturesque scene.
“Very nice choice.” Emma smoothed out her dress as she took her seat, watching the scenery for a moment before turning back to Jean, “And once the sun has set, I’ll get the best view in the OC, all to myself.” And there she went, Emma could totally be gushy when it suited.
“Thank you, I’m glad you approve,” Jean said. She practically preened, her face flushing in the face of Emma’s compliment. “Careful, it’ll all go to my head.” She reached over, taking Emma’s hand after she sat. She disagreed slightly - Emma was a much better view than herself.
They could agree to disagree as far as their views, but they did very much agree on the setting. Some wine, a sunset, a concert. It was safe to say that it was shaping up to be one of the best nights Emma could remember having that wasn’t a business proposal. “I am very glad we decided to do this.” And by that of course she meant that Jean had pushed for Emma to just suck it up and go for it.
After all, the alternative would’ve been sitting in her home with too much wine and a headache. How sad.
“I’ve honestly waited ten years to take you out.” Hopefully nothing would go wrong. Or at least the incoming storm would be the worst of it. Jean suddenly had visions of cozying up in front of a fireplace while it stormed and thundered outside, and it was incredibly appealing. She let the thought float to the surface where Emma could pick it up if she was paying attention.
It was strange to think really, an alternative lifestyle that could’ve been had. All those if only’s that Emma constantly forced herself not to think about. Of course Jean’s little mental image of the future possibilities floated over oh so easily, Emma was rather in-tune with Jean’s psychic signature now, almost constantly aware in case her dear redhead wished for a decidedly private conversation.
Of course Emma had no problem in adding her own little alterations to that lovely scene, losing a lost of the clothes and cosying up in entirely different ways. Just as the waiter arrived to take their drink orders.
If only Jean had said something. If only they hadn’t lost that time, drifted apart. If only, if only. There was so much hatred and pain in her dreams, and a past filled with some measure of regret and what ifs when she awoke, that part of Jean wanted to run away from everything. But Jean didn’t run, and there was that bigger part of her that wanted to step up to Janet’s challenge and make an actual thing of heroes. Maybe not the Avengers. Definitely not the X-men. But something new.
But then Emma distracted her, her skin flushing and breathing growing more shallow as the deliciousness of Emma’s alterations made themselves fully known. She ordered wine breathlessly and crossed her ankles under the table, all the while giving Emma a look that was supposed to be stern but was mostly smokey and desirous.
Emma wasn’t even coy about it at all, smirking knowingly at Jean while she placed her own order, extending her leg to press against Jean’s ankles. They did have their wager going, and there was no such thing as a fair fight there, but Emma could keep it moderately subtle while they were in public.
“Feeling a little flush, dear?” Okay, maybe not that subtle.
The touch, combined with Emma’s alterations nearly made Jean come undone. And Jean wasn’t really one to come undone in public. (making out in bushes or whatever didn’t count). She gripped the table, forcing her breathing to steady. She eyed Emma. “I should have remembered you never play fair.” Though that was actually really fine by her.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure you’ll be able to hold your own.” And Emma was absolutely looking forward to that. If only for the sheer thrill of it all. It was something decidedly unusual for Emma to have someone who could match her, and she was sure that Jean would hold her own and more. Especially with recent events.
“I’m absolutely positive it’s going to be very enjoyable for the both of us.”
Jean had forgotten exactly how long their wager was supposed to go for, but she was heavily considering forfeiting. But giving into the urge to kiss wasn’t technically losing. No, it would have to be giving in entirely to lose.
But that also didn’t mean there wasn’t a loophole. Her eyes glowed softly, and she pulled Emma into her mindscape. It vaguely resembled a glimmering, reflective dance floor. “While we’re eating, would you care for a dance?”
Honestly, Emma wasn’t expecting that their wager would last very long, either one of them saying screw it or just because they got there by themselves. What, exactly, was the point in holding out when it would likely be a win/win situation? Emma really wasn’t the sort to deny herself anything after all.
“Well, aren’t you just full of wonderful ideas?” It was possibly strange, just how comfortable it was being within Jean’s mindscape, considering their rivalry in her dreams, Emma was entirely content with just slipping into Jean’s mind, at her invitation, to just be. And with the advancement of both their powers, it was really no problem at all.
Sometimes denial could make things better in the end. That was actually one thread of a thought that Jean kept holding on to. But maybe that one thread wasn’t really worth it. Delayed gratification could also suck.
As Jean started in on her meal, she took Emma’s hand with one hand, and placed her other on the small of her back as music only they could hear played. “Tell me again how I am at wonderful ideas?”
It was still taking some getting used to, able to let her mind wander off and engage with others while her body remained somewhat alert and able to continue normal functions. But it was ever so helpful to just slip off at times.
With the soothing music playing away, Emma just smirked as she curved towards Jean, stroking her other hand that wasn’t in Jean’s up along her arm, resting just over the curve of Jean’s shoulder and her thumb rubbing softly at the skin there, “Very wonderful, darling,” her voice dipped as she leaned into to whisper in Jean’s ear, “I do believe that you could convince me of anything being a good idea.”
It was good practice, at least that was one excuse. A skill that Jean was increasingly getting better at. And with Emma being a telepath it made it a lot easier to drop in or invite in for a mental visit. She wasn’t sure Ororo was ready for that kind of thing yet. But having Emma here and dreaming at least gave her that outlet.
Despite the mindscape, Jean still shivered at the light touch on her shoulder and the warmth of Emma’s breath in her ear. It took considerable willpower not to turn her head a few degrees so that their lips could meet. “That’s my secondary mutation.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn it was being phenomenally sexy.” Jean’s mind was always intriguing, and Emma had no problem with dropping in or allowing Jean in. The more she came to relax into it, the more she was willing to share. She knew that the idea was that eventually they’d have that steady connection almost constantly, the mental bond being something Emma both wanted and was somewhat scared of at the same time.
Although moments like this made it seem like a silly thing to worry over. “That must just be your fabulous self.”
“Tertiary mutation,” Jean joked. If she wanted to admit it, she craved that bond too. It was such a constant reassurance with Scott in her dreams that it’s absence was...painful.
She danced slowly with Emma, savoring it like they had all the time in the world. And here in this ballroom, they almost did. Emma had two inches on her, and her heels were a little more severe so that added another inch. Jean found herself leaning her chin on Emma’s shoulder and closing her eyes.
Closeness wasn’t something Emma tended to seek out; Sebastian and she had a very complicated relationship, one in which she constantly felt like she was paying for something. Before Selene came along and things changed. It seemed mirrored greatly in the dreams. But she had her romantic notions, she was a hopeless romantic at heart, truly. It was just a constant bashing of the organ through the years that changed her to a slightly distrustful and protective of her heart.
She didn’t need another Ian in her life.
But as she consciously leaned in towards Jean, she really didn’t think she needed to worry over this one, not with Jean.
Jean had three modes. Four really. Mom friend. Angry birb. Cuddle whore romantic. Jokefriend. And generally three out of four could come out around Emma, at least two at a time. You don’t want to see her when she’s angry.
She brushed her lips along Emma’s cheek. No danger of lipstick stains here. “What do you think would have happened,” She whispered. “If we’d dreamed before knowing each other?”
It was a curious thing, wasn’t it. The chance that, had they not previously known one another, things could’ve been utterly different. “Hate sex.” Emma said it with a smirk, one crossing her features at the table and as Jean’s lips brushed her skin in the mindscape, “Lots of hate sex.”
And while that possibly wasn’t entirely untrue, because Emma was a hedonist who always had to have the prettiest things, it wasn’t as likely to last as perhaps what they could build. “I very much doubt we would be here right now if it were the case.” And that would just be a damn shame.
There was nothing wrong with that thought. In fact, it was appealing in a certain way. Jean laughed. “Could you imagine the look on Scott’s face?”
She had no idea what was coming in her dreams.
“I’m glad we’re here right now. You’ve always been important to me. I still thought about you sometimes, you know.” During their friend-break-up.
Goodness, Scott. That stuck up, Professors boy. Really, Emma would seduce Jean if she could just to stick it to that yap. Honestly, he was just infuriating at times. “I think that might be my new method of faking a smile.” Imagining Scott’s face in such a situation.
“You’re so sappy, you’re going to make me soft.” Although there wasn’t really an issue with that. Emma and her many faces. She was prone to those little moments of softness herself. “I can’t say the same isn’t true myself mind you,” it wasn’t like they stopped being friends, they just drifted from one another without constant contact. It happened.
“Partially because I haven’t actually had a friend like you since.” Maybe because she was caustic and argumentative, maybe because she was in no way willing to let people see what Jean got to see, the Emma from before her father’s games had hardened her. “Not that I was ever really looking to replace you.”
Not that she could.
Jean laughed again, a light an airy sound. In the real world, she was talking about her students and seemingly mundane things. But here, they could talk about anything. It almost didn’t feel real. “You’re more like a diamond, Emma, I don’t think I could ever see you being completely soft.”
But she ran her hand down Emma’s back, then trailed her finger up her spine. “With a soft squishy center. I think you don’t let anyone else see that part of you. I know how hard trust can be.”
And she did so like diamonds, didn’t she. “Only for you.” And damn, there it was, that squishy little heart showing itself. But really, did it matter? Jean would know eventually when they delved so deep into each other’s minds that they weren’t clear on where one started and the other ended.
“I chose the wrong path in life if I thought trust was the most important thing.” Emma had a hard time with it, she had for a long while now, if it wasn’t her sisters backstabbing it was her boyfriend’s attempting to win her for her father. She didn’t trust Sebastian, not ever, but she knew all the going in. Jean was an entirely different thing.
“I think we’re both aware of just how much I trust you though,” even with all the ugly bits, “dangerous, maybe. But I’m fairly certain it will turn out well.” Better to try than not, wasn’t it?
It made Jean’s heart clench. She pretended to scratch her cheek but mostly there was dust in her eyes or some other thin excuse. In their mindscape, there was less dust, but Jean’s face still displayed a vulnerable expression for a fraction of a moment. “Now I’m scared I’ll mess it all up somehow. But we’re adults, I’m sure we can handle any problems that arise, even the ones we create for ourselves.”
And then she leaned in to kiss her, because it felt like the best possible moment to do so.
Sighing into the kiss, Emma squeezed the hand she held while leaning in towards Jean slightly. There was likely to be a few issues, and as the dreams developed, perhaps a few bumps, if their animosity continued. But Jean was right, they were adults and they could separate from the dreams and their lives.
Especially if they were able to just have these lovely little moments to themselves.
They still had a show to get to. Jean had snagged some really good seats, and she had chocolates hidden in the car for Emma to snack on on the ride there. She really was trying to go all out, and maybe she was feeling a little seductive. But she broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against Emma’s. “Are you ready for your show?”
Boy that sounded naughtier than intended. “A real show, I mean.”
“Oh, and there you got my hopes up for a decidedly alluring evening.” Not that Emma wasn’t utterly looking forward to a little concert with Jean, but goodness now she had all kinds of ideas on the sort of show she’d really like.
But patience was everything, wasn’t it. “I’m sure you could put on a real show no problem, darling, but yes. Let’s not waste these wonderful plans of yours.”
Jean smiled, and let their private dance linger on until their meal was finished. Two different kinds of pleasures - one just for them, and the other shared with a restaurant full of people who were clueless as to what was going on.
The dessert, however, deserved some extra focus, as did the drive. In the car and on the way to the show, Jean said. “Look in the glove compartment.”
Godiva, of course.
“You know, boys used to say that to me all the time.” Emma teased lightly as she did as Jean asked, leaning forward to inspect the compartment. Of course boys never took her out to lovely waterfront restaurants and then to a concert, it was a silly Italian restaurant and then make-out point, like she was some easy cheerleader. Completely different ball parks.
“God, you’re trying to ruin me.” Indulgence was one of Emma’s weaknesses, and what woman didn’t indulge in chocolate? “Are you trying to get me to put out on the first date?”
“I can guess what was in their glove department,” Jean said,speaking from experience. It was kind of a funny thought, and a sad one. “Three kinds of men. The entitled ones, the good ones, and the bad boys.” Of course, Scott was the good one and Logan the bad boy.
She glanced at Emma as the theater came into view. “If I’d known Godiva was your weakness…”
“Bad boys were the most fun,” and the most likely to make her father lose his mind. She’d thought Ian was a good boy, a nice, generous man looking to do well, instead he was an entitled shit. Live and learn. “I dare say you’ll find out about bad girls soon.” Because she really didn’t think she fell into the ‘good girl’ category.
Emma didn’t even bother waiting, opening up her chocolates to select one. “Oh, in moderation, absolutely.” Because even Emma was somewhat conscious about what she ate. Still, biting into one of those gorgeous chocolates had Emma moaning in appreciation for the taste on her tongue as she almost melted into her seat. “You’re the devil.”
Jean threw her head back and laughed. “You’re the bad girl, and I’m the good girl? You remember what it’s like when I’m mad, right?” Irish tempers were legendary.
She was glad it was almost time to park. If Emma kept that up she was sure she’d get them into a wreck. Face hot, she retorted. “I’ve got the horns and everything.”
“That’s the other saying, still waters run deep.” Of course everyone had their tempers, and Jean was just so nice and sweet most of the time that really, it made sense that when she was mad she was shockingly mean. Usually it was aimed in all the right places too.
“I was thinking more like the snake, tempting and oh so very logical.” Although Emma didn’t mind sending over a lovely image of Jean in a silk slip of a black thing with devilish horns.
Really, just point Jean’s fire in the right direction and let her loose. “Mm, I’d rather see you in that but then white is your color.” And the image she gave Emma was of Emma as a white angel, with Jean in the black thing and horns looming over her. Kind of like a role reversal.
Great, they were going to be distracted during the concert. Like teenagers or something.
Emma had every confidence that they could reign themselves in, after all, they weren’t the teenagers they were emulating right then. “Hmm, you do look good in leather, dear.” Perhaps they’d have a very interesting dip in the roleplay pool at some point.
“Maybe I’ll be able to sneak something into your wardrobe at some point.” Because that was the only way Emma would be playing the Angel in that little scenario. Savoring one more chocolate, resolute that she would not gorge on them right now, Emma slipped the box back into the glove compartment. She could share them with Jean when they left afterwards.
Jean decided that Emma was going to be the death of her. But she bucked up and took Emma’s hand for the walk to the concert. After all, she was used to dying.