Cyclops was right and he wishes he wasn't (cyclopswasright) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-12-10 20:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, emma frost (white queen), scott summers (cyclops) |
"Do you want the short version, the long version, or the glossed over version?"
Who: Scott and Emma
What: Scott stops by Emma's with lunch and more explaining.
When: Monday afternoon
Where: Emma's place
Status: Complete
RAting: PG-13
Scott decided to surprise Emma with lunch. The drive gave him a chance to think about what to say to her and how to explain what had gone on. And why it was happening, at least as far as he’d been able to suss out. He stopped by her home, and walked up to the door.
Emma was reading a new book when he arrived. She wasn’t expecting anyone (well, maybe Jean later), so she was in her pajamas. When she heard footsteps outside her door she looked up in confusion, and a little bit of fear. Surely this was nothing. She took a deep breath and went to check the peephole. She exhaled in a laugh when she saw it was Scott. For decorum’s sake, she waited until he knocked to open the door. “Well, this is unexpected.”
"I thought you'd might like lunch." Scott said, holding up a bag of take-out and giving her a fond smile. "Since I probably owe you some explanations. And so you don't sue me for emotional distress."
Emma laughed a little, and stepped back. “You might as well come in, then.” Her place was very small. It contained a fairly organized, but full desk, a bureau, and a full size bed. Her kitchen (which was just a tiled portion of the same room), had a card table and two chairs, and a rack of drying dishes by the sink. The furniture had no unifying theme, though it was clear from the art on the walls and her bedclothes that blue and yellow were her favorite colors. “That smells really good. I didn’t quite realize I was hungry.” She’d been spending too much time thinking or trying very hard not to think to pay attention to that kind of thing.
It was obvious that Emma had either not been born into wealth here, or had become estranged from her family. Both options were possible. There were those who lived completely different lives, and those who's lives paralleled their dream lives uncannily. Scott fell somewhere in between. He stepped inside, taking the food and putting on the card table.
“Then my timing is good.”
She nodded. “Yes.” She grabbed a pair of plates (matching), and a couple forks (not), setting places at the table. “Would you like something to drink, or did you take care of that as well?” She wanted to eat a little before talking about things. The last time she’d talked first, she never got dinner and had to make a sandwich at two am like she was back in college. Beside, she dearly wanted to forget any of this had even happened.
Scott produced a couple of soft drinks from somewhere, and put them on the table as well. "Got that taken care of too." He started to take the food out of the bag. "Get any sleep this weekend?"
She nodded. “Some.” So, they were just going to talk about it right now. Okay. “I was at Jean’s house until this morning. Between her schedule and Troy’s I wouldn’t have gotten much sleep anyway, not to mention my general difficulty sleeping in strange places.” Plus the robot thing. She sat down, waiting for Scott to unpack their meal. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, as though her mind was occupied by something else. “She told me a little more about the dreams. That she has powers. That I do.” That Emma would certainly have them. That they would be terrible. A sense of panic that she’d been suppressing for most of the weekend reared its head again, but she did her best to push it away.
He had mostly been trying to make conversation, not quite bring up everything just yet. He looked at her through his glasses, his face soft, his expression concerned. "You do yes, in our dreams. They're a lot like hers in some ways. Different in others. I didn't know how to approach it, since you weren't having them."
She nodded. “I don’t know what to make of any of it.” She took a drink of her soda. “But this is the second or third thing you’ve gotten me without any prior knowledge of my preferences that has been correct.” She set the cup down again, shaking her head. “Have you been busy? I hope you weren’t attacked again.”
"I wasn't, but Kitty was again. And I've heard reports of other similar incidents throughout the city. The cover-up is working well so far, but that doesn't alleviate the danger." Scott took a bite of his own food. He should tell her how close they were. Just how do you find the words for that kind of thing to someone who saw you as a stranger?
“Kitty? Spock said a girl had been attacked, I wonder if that was who he meant.” She ate a little as she thought. “Is it ethical to cover this up? There are people at risk who don’t even realize it. If the thing came after me, it might go after someone else who is also under the illusion they’re not involved.”
"That's the conundrum. Warn people and cause a mass panic, or try to lay low." Scott nodded his head. "It might have been. It might have been someone else. Kitty can take care of herself, but not everyone can."
Emma nodded, focusing on her food for a few moments. What could she say? That she didn’t ever want to have these dreams? She’d made that clear over and over again. It was a useless thought, if she was bound to have them. Did she want to know more about them now? Would it do any good?
She propped her chin up with her left arm. “What do we do now? It’s abundantly clear that a lot is being kept from me, and from others who might get hurt because of that lack of information. I was warned not to say anything, and by complying I might have caused another person to get hurt. That’s a heavy burden.” She thought for a few seconds. “One it seems you’re more used to.” She looked down, prodding at her food a little bit. “I don’t trust others lightly. I don’t think of myself as untrusting, but I am intensely skeptical of people and their motives. But I trust that you wouldn’t let people get hurt for no reason, and that you would say something if you thought it would make things safer.” And that trust extended to what she didn’t know about the dreams. More or less, anyway.
"The dreams aren't all sunshines and daisies. There's a lot of fighting, and death, a lot of prejudice and fear. But there's a lot of joy, and hope. A lot of good that gets done." He sighed. Part of him didn't want to hide what was going on from people, but there was part of him that didn't trust what could happen if the knowledge became public.
"It's hard to break out of a mold of wanting to keep my people safe," Scott replied. "If no one knows about us, no one is going to protest in front of our houses or try to bomb them."
“Instead, you’ll be content to let those very same people be attacked by a regenerating robot.” Her tone wasn’t as neutral as before. It held a bit more sharpness. Not anger, but that question was more direct. “Sacrificing an innocent few to save the whole.” Thor had no powers, and he was dead, now. She pushed her plate away, putting her head in her hands. “Who would believe you if you said anything, anyway? Only people who know about the dreams.” Which was the entire at risk population, if she understood correctly.
Scott leaned back in his chair, resting his palms on the table. His expression was neutral, though his eyes had darkened. Pity they couldn't be seen. "We didn't know they were going after people who weren't mutants. They're designed to kill mutants. We don't even know how many people are out there who might be dreaming of have the potential of dreaming. Of being mutants, or wizards, or whatever else. I'd like to warn people. It's just a matter of knowing who to warn."
“It would be difficult to only tell people who need to know.” She sat back as well, crossing her arms over her chest. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, less argumentative. “I’m not saying that you’re wrong. I obviously have no idea what’s going on, so I don’t have any way to say what you or anyone else should do.” If she had been alone, she would have died. That was a scary and infuriating thought. That others were in the same position and just as helpless also bothered her. “You didn’t come here to get lectured by me.”
"Sometimes I need a good lecture, I assure you. It's one of the things you're good at." He gave her a wry smile, then leaned forward to start eating again. "I've got an idea, but I need to run it past someone who's better with computers than me, first. Might get some people thinking we're loons, but it might save some lives, too."
She pursed her lips a little. “How do we know each other in your dreams? I assume we’re close, from the what you just said.” This was one question she’d purposely been avoiding thinking about. Was there a good answer? She didn’t think so. It seemed like he had the biggest ethical dilemma at least under consideration, which was all she could reasonably ask. This question, however, would require more than consideration.
"Do you want the short version, the long version, or the glossed over version?" Scott asked. Since 'how does Scott know Emma' had about a half-dozen different and complicated answers. "There's no real easy version, since it wasn't as easy as we met here."
“Give me the highlights. I want to know what I’m dealing with in these memories, and in regards to whatever we’re working on.” She was getting to be a little nervous about this. First Jean gave her that scary intense stare, and now how she knew someone in their dreams was a difficult question?
"We were enemies, first." Scott said, his tone even. It was as though he were simply stating a fact. "We first met when we were both trying to convince Kitty's parents which of our schools she should go to." He smiled ruefully. "You tried to kill us, on multiple occasions. I don't remember how it happened, entirely. But we became allies, and then friends. I think what you wanted, mostly, was to train the kids. And I think you felt you had some atonement to do. One of your students is around here, actually. Her name is Jubilee."
Well, that explained the stink eye from Jean. She nodded, absorbing that information. “That’s not really what I was expecting. I can’t imagine myself trying to kill anyone.” Well, not a person, anyway. Robots and Volvos were apparently exceptions. “But I guess reading people’s thoughts would make anyone more misanthropic.”
The stink-eye might also have been the affair.
He nodded his head. "You could turn into diamond, too. It was some sort of secondary mutation, after an ... event ... on Genosha." How does one prepare a woman to live through a genocide? He was hesitant to even bring it up, this much.
Emma nodded. “Yes, Jean told me about that. I wish that power had resurfaced on Friday. My ankle is still sore.” She made a wry face. At least it wasn’t swollen anymore. “Are you alright? Have you been getting much sleep?” She felt a little better about all this nonsense. Having answers made the difference between fear and understanding. She began to eat again, but was obviously more interested in what Scott had to say than food.
"Enough sleep to matter," he assured her. "I'm less on war general mode than I am in the dreams. Because it's not necessary, and frankly I don't want to repeat them. I'm happy to be helping people, I don't need to be waging wars to survive."
She mulled that over. “I can see why you’d prefer this life over the dreams, and I haven’t even had any yet.” She winced at the yet, but she couldn’t delude herself anymore. It was time to prepare. “Do you have time to stay? I- I’ve been hoping we would get some more time together. I worried about you a lot over the weekend.” She believed he was a good man who’d had to do some hard things. The way he acted backed up that belief. She hoped she wasn’t wrong. “Pepper would like to meet you, at some point. I was thinking that some time after Christmas would be best.”
"I have time to stay." He'd cleared his schedule, and assuming there wasn't an emergency, he had the whole night free. But he thought she'd understand the emergency clause. "Pepper would like to meet me?" Was that Tony's Pepper? Pepper and Emma were friends? Small world.
She smiled when he said he had time to stay. That was good. She nodded at his question. “Yes. She’s one of the people whose opinion I trust implicitly. Especially when it comes to other people.” Oh, there was going to be no mention of Tony Stark. It was amusing to think that his name had summoned the robot. “She’s demanded to meet you, actually.”
"I should be on my best behavior then." She had to be easier to deal with than Stark. At least this Stark was easier to deal with than his Stark. It was a small blessing. "Is that in lieu of meeting your parents? Meet your friends instead?"
Emma nodded. “I mean, if we date longer than a couple months you should probably meet them. But my friends know me better than my parents, and they aren’t across the entire continent.” That was actually the biggest downside to Jean and Scott sharing their dreams. Jean’s preconceived notions might get in the way of her opinion of the Scott that actually mattered. “Though Pepper is apparently trying to marry me off, so you might want to watch out for that.”
Jean was worrisome. She hadn't reacted well to the affair memories at all. Scott just shook his head. "Pepper should worry about her own wedding first, before anyone else does. There's a betting pool as to how long the engagement will last, when it'll be called off, and why."
Emma laughed at that. “Oh, I wouldn’t bet against Pepper Potts on anything. She’s not obstinate like I am, but she is so very effective when she sets her sights on something. Beside, Tony’s insufferably interested in her. It honestly makes me ill to think about it.” She grinned widely, glad conversation was back on more normal things. “So of course I want in. I think it will take six months for the wedding to be planned to satisfaction, so the wedding will be in eight, with all the heel dragging that is bound to happen for show, if nothing else.”
Scott laughed. It was a good natured laugh from down in his chest and belly. "I say ten months, due to Tony needing to showboat at least twice. And one calling off of the wedding and then saying it's going ahead anyway."
“Oh, you’re right about the false wedding. There will have to be at least one. He’s such a terrible person. He’s quite lucky Pepper can stand him.” It felt good to laugh again. The week had been far too serious so far. Emma reached out to touch Scott’s hand, like he had at the restaurant a million years and less than one week ago. “Thank you again for coming by.”
Scott touched Emma's hand back, stroking at her knuckles and then at the palm of her hand. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. This whole thing is so hard to take in." He wanted to do right by her.
“It is. I’ve largely stopped trying. I did take the week off school, though. I’m worried it will all hit me at once and I’ll start bawling in the middle of Romeo and Juliet or something equally embarrassing.” It felt good to be touched by Scott. It wasn’t the same as being touched by her friends or brief sexual conquests. “I wish I had room for a couch. We could finally watch a movie together. But here, we’d have to do it on the bed.” Which would result in no movies being watched at all.
"It'll probably hit you all at once, when you least expect it and just when you think you're gotten through it." Scott gave her another gentle smile. "I'd suggest going out to a movie, but I'd rather stay in. But maybe we could curl up in bed together and watch a movie. Maybe we could even make it through the movie."
Emma nodded. He was probably right. She just hoped it happened somewhere private. When the topic turned to happier things, she smiled again. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying. Either way we’re going to enjoy ourselves, and we could probably benefit from the pleasure of each other’s company.” She smiled softly, standing up, her hand holding onto his.
Scott took Emma's hand, standing and then stepping closer to her. His arm slipped around her waist and he kissed her. Hunger and desire, from a need that ached within him. He pulled away after a long moment. "What are you in the mood for?"
His kiss felt like the best thing she’d ever experienced. Being so close to death, having so much new and terrifying information put on her, it was overwhelming. His kiss made things clearer, gave her something worth focusing on. “That’s an unfair question. We won’t even start the movie if I answer honestly.” Her arms wrapped around him, her mind fully on the present moment.
"Patience, Emma. Good things come to those who wait." Still smiling, Scott moved towards the tv and turning it on. He inspected her dvd collection.
“I have patience for children and sick people. You don’t seem like either.” She smiled, looking at her DVDs as well. She had most of Mel Brooks’s movies, a few Shakespearean plays (The Macbeth with Patrick Stewart was still in the DVD player), a small selection of chick flicks, and a rather abundant choice of Pixar movies. “The DVDs are mostly for work. I tend to watch whatever’s on tv when the mood strikes me. Typically I’m too tired to care what I’m watching if that’s what I’m doing.” Back when she was a kid, tv was called books.
"Mm." He pulled out The Producers, and put that into the player. "His son wrote some books about zombies. A survival guide, and then a book written as a series of interviews of the survivors of a zombie apocalypse. I haven't read them myself, but Kitty swears by the first one."
“I was popular for a brief time with a couple of my students. They talked about it very animatedly, the merits of shotguns versus Shaolin spades. I actually received two papers on the subject of zombie survival that year, which was a refreshing change from how wonderful it would be to be famous, or the merits of a certain method of fingernail polish application.” She went to the bed, using the blanket and pillows to create a softer surface to lean against while they say. “I didn’t realize that was Mel Brooks’s son. How interesting.”
"I'll have to check them out sometimes. I've prepared for other apocalypses, what's a zombie apocalypse on top of that?" Scott pulled his shoes off, then sat on the edge of the bed to watch her. He was determined to make it through a movie.
Emma laughed at that. “What manner of apocalypse are you prepared for? Is there one more likely than zombies?” Well, robots seemed a big contender at the moment, but she couldn’t really imagine a Terminator style apocalypse. The Matrix seemed more likely, in the robots causing the end of the world spectrum.
"His name was Apocalypse." He replied, chuckling. "There was Galactus too. Assorted viruses." He was speaking lightly of terrible things, but really, how else could he deal with it?
Somewhere, Cameron sneezed.
Emma blinked. “Oh God, you’re being serious.” Well, kind of. “I really hope I don’t get these dreams. My life is at the perfect level of complexity and ridiculousness.” She sighed, pushing her hair back from her face. At least she’d had five minutes before being reminded of the insanity that awaited her. She spent most of the first scene brooding over all the craziness.
Scott slipped behind her when he noticed and started to rub and massage her shoulders, and upper back, trying to release some of the tension and make her forget about terrible dreams.
She relaxed as he worked on her shoulders. “Mmmm, thank you. Can I hire you to come to work with me? I’m sure I can forge a doctor’s note saying it’s necessary for some reason.” His hands were very nice. Maybe she could handle this relationship thing after all. It was a little amusing that their first real fight had been co-operative instead of against each other.
"I'm sure that would set a wonderful example for the students." Scott intoned, sounding one hundred percent super serial. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her shoulder.
“It might be a good example of a functional adult relationship.” Oh, that was sexy. “But fine, if you insist on not making out in front of a room full of children I suppose I’ll have to deal with it.” She made a small face. “You know, the idea just became less appealing, anyway.”
He kissed again, moving his lips to the nape of Emma's neck. "I can think of much better places to make out with you." His hands rubbed up her stomach, teasing up against the tip of her sternum.
She shivered, laughing from the pleasure of it all. “Oh, I’m sure you can. You seem to be extremely knowledgeable about where I want to be kissed.” She wondered if that was from the dreams as well. After a moment of deliberation, she decided she didn’t mind if it was. Her hands covered his, and she leaned back against him. Her pajamas were thin enough that she could feel the warmth of his hands through the fabric. It was delicious.
He tried to get his fingers into her pajamas. Scott wanted to feel her skin. To tease and torment her until the movie was finished. He smiled against her skin. "Experience."
The buttons came undone with a little co-operative effort. Why did they make women’s and men’s shirts button in opposite directions? “Mmhmmm. Well, they say that is the best teacher, and I can’t argue at all with the results.” She leaned her head back so it was resting on his shoulder, and kissed him softly below his ear.
Scott tilted his head, closing his eyes as the movie became forgotten. "God, Emma...you're not the only one who knows exactly what to do." His hands gave her lift and support, and massaged lightly.
Emma groaned softly, right into his ear. “This is what happens when two people who know what they’re doing collaborate.” She closed her eyes, enjoying the attention. “Things just seem to fall into place.” She wiggled against him, slithering her shoulders out of the pajama top.
Movie? What movie? Scott turned Emma's torso more towards him, so he could find her lips and kiss them. When he broke the kiss, he said a little teasingly. "How do you want it?"
She turned willingly, straddling him as she took her top off completely. The kiss was wonderful, and she could feel her heart racing. His question made her think for a moment. “I think I enjoyed it most when you were behind me. You were quite vigorous, and it’s probably better to start there than end there, since my legs were wobbly by the time we got around to that position last time.” She slid her hands under his shirt, stroking them up his back. “But I’m fine with whatever happens organically. Sex is always fantastic with you.”
Scott grinned, lifting a hand to stroke her face. "Lets start there and see where we end up, then."