Post by banning on May 21, 2024 1:20:43 GMT
Jean looked over at Scott as the kids wandered away, raising one eyebrow. If I am going to be a psychically attuned chaperone, I am absolutely going to require pie. she thought to Scott with a laugh. There was a little pie shop over by the riverwalk. Jean shrugged her purse over her shoulder and gestured that direction with the crown of her head before starting off that direction. She reached out to pull Scott's hand. On call was not the same as on duty. Telepathy was also a boon in listening for pain or strong emotion.
Do you want to split a sweet pie and a meat pie? She asked Scott as they walked over toward the shop. They carried both sweet and savory pies - pot pies and hand pies for savory fare and more traditional dessert pies. There were a couple of local men by the wall as they entered the shop.
Scott smiled at Jean. You read my... well, you know. It was one of the oldest jokes in his repertoire, never mind one of his worst. And yet, it always made Jean smile, even if sometimes that smile was accompanied by a groan. Catan may be Jean's specialty, but puns were absolutely his. But love for pie was something that they shared (which, tragically, most of the faculty did not). It would be just the thing.
He took her hand, letting her take the lead, as was often the case. This was one of her favorite places, after all. Scott could already feel his stomach rumbling at what was to come. Absolutely. I'll buy. While Jean found them a table, Scott strode up to the counter, going through the motions with his wallet and small talk. Fred was a nice guy, and he ran an even nicer place. Almost as important as the pie on Scott's mind was the notion of being able to spend some time with Jean that didn't revolve around a curriculum. It was getting harder and harder to escape work these days.
He could never resist making the mind reading joke! Oh my god you adorable doofus, go forth and get me pie, please Jean thought at him, unable to suppress a broad, fond grin as she bee-lined for the best table on the outdoor patio, a two top next to a willow tree in a planter box. She sat down, sliding her bag under her chair. Placing one hand up to her forehead, she closed her eyes. Most of the kids were still dispersing. She shook her head. Of course it was fine.
Everyone had been on edge lately. Friends of Humanity and other mutant hate groups had been making headlines - and inroads. It was never exactly safe being a mutant, but sometimes at least they got to be kind of... back burner. The burner was decidedly on. Maybe medium-high heat. The kids were affected, too - and they'd had three new scholarship students in the last month who had come to the school after being disowned by their parents. The Headmaster, Ororo, and - of all people - Emma were empowered to serve as legal guardians, but it was getting more and more commonplace.
When Scott arrived at the table, Jean was clearly lost in thought, chewing her lower lip and staring at the table surface.
As Scott came over to the table, pies in tow, he did his best to smile. It wasn't necessarily unnatural for him to do so, but more often than not, those expressions were a public showing, and not necessarily a sincere expression for him. Particularly lately. Jean's own expressions told him plenty about that. He placed the two pies between them, then took his seat opposite Jean. He rested his chin on his hands, elbows propped up on the table as he looked at Jean with warm concern. He resisted the urge to start digging in... for now.
"You know, the idea of going out for pie was supposed to be to get away from thinking about work."
"Nothing distracts my brain like sweetness," Jean said, lifting her fork to nab a bite from the salted honey pie and smiling, casting aside the pall of the day. For better or worse, it would be there when she got back. "See, this is like... what I wish pecan pie tasted like. When I was a little girl, I read about pecan pie in a book way before I ever had it. My parents weren't really... well, pie people. Apart from pumpkin for Thanksgiving and apple for Fourth of July. It was always described as so sweet and sticky and I somehow never realized it would also, you know ... have nuts."
"When Charles gets back we should take a legitimate vacation. Like two weeks away. It's not like he won't owe us, right?" Jean grinned, fork and bite of pie dangling from her hand between them over the table.
After Jean had started having her fill, Scott joined in the sweet pie, with a subtle smile. He made some noises of delight, subdued as they were.
Scott took a few more forkfuls, right after Jean posed the idea. His brow narrowed, though not because he didn't like the idea... well, not necessarily, anyway. When was the last time he had called the Professor... something other than "the Professor"? It was a bizarre, infuriating idea, and not the part of the statement that he should be thinking about, but it stuck.
Once Scott swallowed his last portion, he stifled a laugh. "What did you have in mind? Our work has a habit of finding us, no matter how far we try to get away from it."
Jean dropped her fork with a clatter, looking at her husband like he was a stranger.
"Pie with nuts feels... nuts. Are you Mystique? What have you done with Scott?" Jean broke the act with a fond snicker, retrieving her fork from the table and wiping it clean with a napkin. She tried a mouthful of the quiche before replying.
"Global mutant crises follow us everywhere, yes, but teaching, advocacy, the podcast, and... let's be honest, being surrogate parents to dozens of kids... don't have to. For a week. Or two. We could do like whirlwind Europe - France, Italy, Germany, Spain... or like a week in Kyoto. Or... just a getaway for us to be us."
Scott winced. Even by his own standards, that had been a perfectly good opportunity that had slipped him by. He didn't have much of an excuse... or at least, not one that he was willing to admit, so he fell back on that sheepish grin he always made whenever Jean was upset with him, ironically or un-, before continuing with his side of the nuts pie.
The bigger thing that Scott was kicking himself for, though, was this conversation. He had been meaning to discuss this with Jean much earlier, and for the reasons that he felt his stubborn side acting up about this very idea. It was a strange feeling... but, not an unfamiliar one. Such was the Summers life. That, or the impact that the Professor had had on his life. He had never known anything else.
He still didn't. That thought lingered, eventually turning into a stern expression on Scott's face. "Jean... what "is" us? It's not that I wouldn't love to have a break. I would. But without the school, without the X-Men. Without all of those parts of our lives... well, you know what I mean.
"I'm not sure I ever knew what "me", or "you", or "us" was outside of those things."
"Well, we aren't parents, Scott. I am dedicated to the next generation of mutants and making the world a better place, too, but I would almost kill for a week or two without teen hormones seeping into my brain." Jean said, lifting a hand to her temples as Michael had some sort of spike of social anxiety and Bobby was radiating restless energy as always. At the school, the Faculty House was far enough from the Mansion that it reduced the dozens of teenagers to a dull roar, but they were always there. Jean's receptive empathy and telepathy were her natural strength. Much as she'd mastered, she could distance herself from the thoughts and feelings but couldn't fully shut them out. "I'm talking about a vacation, not leaving the life. And it isn't as if you couldn't scramble the Blackbird in an hour or less if something happened."
Scott blinked. Jean couldn't see it, but she would probably pick up on it psychically. He wasn't expecting her to mention parents, but on the other hand, that was what they had become, in a way. Looking after these students... well, Scott had felt his own share of pressure of trying to carry all of this on his shoulders. He hadn't thought too much about it lately, but it was there. That lingering doubt, wondering if you were measuring up to what he wanted you to be, to what you wanted you to be... and Scott wasn't even a telepath. Or an empath... He mentally grimaced. It was very easy for him to get lost in the work, to not even think about all of these things while he was going through the motions of leading the X-Men, helping run the Xavier Institute with Jean. It came up when he least expected. Now, certainly, but also at other times. It was strange, trying to quantify this to himself when Jean was right there, and not because he was trying to keep any of this from her. Scott had always struggled to make sense of his own thoughts, but he needed to make the effort, especially with this.
He nodded, forcing himself to smile. After all, this lunch, and the subject of this conversation, was supposed to be about getting away from these problems, if only for a little while. Kitty was right. He needed to learn how to unwind. It was something he had been trying to figure out for as loing as he had been at the Institute. Scott laughed. "Alright, you've got me there." Scott took another bite of the pie, remembering to savor it this time. "So, have you, uhh... been up to anything, lately? Other than the usual, I mean."
“The D&D group with the older students has been really engaging. I need to ask Hank to help me program in the first module to the Danger Room.” Jean said brightly, piercing a nut with her fork. “They’re a good group. You can see who they want to be already. How are your little protegees?”
Scott nodded, his expression in part betraying what he thought of that particular extracurricular, though he said no more on it for now. As he continued to chew on the pie, his brow furrowed. “If I’m going to be honest… taken. Not overtaken, but… taken.”
He sighs, pushing his plate of refreshment forward. “I don’t need to explain Quentin. I’m not sure I need to explain the… Cuckoos, either.” Scott folded his arms. “Is it really a good idea for a non-telepath to be teaching them? I feel out of my depth.”
“Emma seems to reproduce via ‘budding,’” Jean quipped, thinking of the identical teenagers.
“Quentin is a bully who doesn’t use muscles. The telepathy isn’t… irrelevant, but he needs help developing his character, judgement, and reasoning. All of which you have in spades. Don’t worry so much about powers - you can lead from the bigger picture.”
Scott takes a deep breath, gingerly placing his arms on the table as he leans forward. “I suppose you’re right. But I can’t help but worry what he gets up to when I’m not looking over his shoulder. … like, right now.” He shakes his head, taking another, larger, slice of pie.
“Boys will be boys. My point is that neither Quentin nor the Cuckoos need help with their technique - try to help them with those other things.”
“Do you think the Danger Room is suited for… your thing? It’s never been used like that before.”
“Would Eric like to make sure the ride is safe for children before anyone boards?” Jean asked with a coy smile.
Scott pauses, and stares at Jean for at least a few seconds. Then, he breaks into a coughing fit of laughter, shaking his head all the while. “Ma… maybe.”
He takes a sip of coffee, looking at Jean with similar coyness. “Did the Dungeon Master have something in mind?”
“Well, you have a very inventive Dungeon Master,” Jean said, unable to contain her amusement.
Scott raises an eyebrow, and smiled as he put the cup down. “Hopefully nothing inappropriate. Those recordings are pretty easy to get a hold of.”
“Kitty and I owe each other a lifetime of favors and she’s very good with computers.”
Scott’s confidence turned to dismay. He puts a hand on his forehead rather dramatically. “P-Please don’t. You know she’d lord that over me for months. Surely we can figure something else out.”
“You underestimate the power of the sisterhood. And my literal and emotional blackmail on Kate.”
Scott lets out a sigh of relief. “I believe you. You only call her Kate when it’s serious.”
“Kate is more serious than Kitty.”
“I am curious, though. Beyond basic teambuilding, what do you want to accomplish with this? I know I’m not exactly… “tabletop-savvy” or whatever you call it, but I have trouble wrapping my mind around how this helps prepare them for what’s coming.”
Jean giggled, swapping the two plates. “There’s a method to my madness. This also builds empathy, which is actually quite important to being heroic. And I’m curious to see how the Danger Room’s set probabilities play with Michael’s subconscious powers. It could be illustrative. Also if Michael is interested in the mechanics, it will help him build an intuitive feel for probabilities in a way that’s hard to replicate in a mathematics course.”
Michael… Scott sighed, inwardly. He wasn’t his student, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about him. And he did. Often. There were many students that had remained an enigma, but his case in particular was one that bordered on the worrying. As much as he wanted to say something, it wasn’t his place. He was Jean’s student, and she was more than capable of handling whatever that boy threw at her… probably. He wished he could make himself relax.
“Obviously the team dynamics, as you said. The improvisational nature also helps some people who are stuck in their ways to be more spontaneous and flexible, not only with their teammates, but with their surroundings and conditions. And for the firebrands, the team dynamics are especially important for giving them a reason outside themselves to be careful.”
“That’s the Cliff’s Notes, anyway. Oh, also this brand new concept called ‘fun’. I don’t know if that news has made it to you yet….”
Scott had apparently begun to slouch, staring slightly downward, by the end of Jean’s spiel. When she was finished, he couldn’t help but squint, much like he always did whenever he got ribbed. Especially when Jean was the ribber.
“...I can have fun.” He straightened in his seat, taking some more bites of food. They were making headway into the meal. He pointed a finger, j’accuse. “Name one time in the past week I didn’t understand ‘fun’.”
“I’d rather name ten times in the past week when you did understand fun.” Jean kissed his fingertip lightly.
Scott tries to hide his chagrin, but does so in vain. His grimace quickly turns into a smile while his fingertip turns into an open hand that reaches to briefly caress Jean’s cheek from across the table before seeing to the rest of his share of the pie.
“For getting away: it sounded like you had a place in mind. Did you?”
“How about a trip to Kobe, Japan. Actually Kyoto, but I wanted to lead with the good beef and it’s a short train ride away. It’s off season, but that’s the best time to see the real face of place. I honestly didn’t have a concrete plan. I wanted to talk to you about it first.”
Scott couldn’t hide the surprise, though there wasn’t as much there as he was expecting. He rubs his chin contemplatively. “Actually… that sounds great. I never actually visited Japan when… uhh…” He grimaces, sheepishly.
“When do we book tickets?”
“We’d probably want three weeks to prepare teaching plans and the like, but we could look at dates when we get back to the cottage.” Jean’s face lit up at the prospect. She looked at Scott seriously.
Scott studied Jean’s face for a moment, as if he was looking for something. Then Scott kissed her, quickly, sweetly. His hand lingered on Jean’s cheek for a while longer. “Have I ever told you that I loved you?”
Suddenly, Scott’s phone blipped in his pocket. Scott held his smile for a few more seconds, then as the phone kept ringing, the smile turned into a half-frown. The moment passed sooner than either of them preferred. “We should probably go make sure the kids aren’t burning down the mansion. Again.”
Do you want to split a sweet pie and a meat pie? She asked Scott as they walked over toward the shop. They carried both sweet and savory pies - pot pies and hand pies for savory fare and more traditional dessert pies. There were a couple of local men by the wall as they entered the shop.
Scott smiled at Jean. You read my... well, you know. It was one of the oldest jokes in his repertoire, never mind one of his worst. And yet, it always made Jean smile, even if sometimes that smile was accompanied by a groan. Catan may be Jean's specialty, but puns were absolutely his. But love for pie was something that they shared (which, tragically, most of the faculty did not). It would be just the thing.
He took her hand, letting her take the lead, as was often the case. This was one of her favorite places, after all. Scott could already feel his stomach rumbling at what was to come. Absolutely. I'll buy. While Jean found them a table, Scott strode up to the counter, going through the motions with his wallet and small talk. Fred was a nice guy, and he ran an even nicer place. Almost as important as the pie on Scott's mind was the notion of being able to spend some time with Jean that didn't revolve around a curriculum. It was getting harder and harder to escape work these days.
He could never resist making the mind reading joke! Oh my god you adorable doofus, go forth and get me pie, please Jean thought at him, unable to suppress a broad, fond grin as she bee-lined for the best table on the outdoor patio, a two top next to a willow tree in a planter box. She sat down, sliding her bag under her chair. Placing one hand up to her forehead, she closed her eyes. Most of the kids were still dispersing. She shook her head. Of course it was fine.
Everyone had been on edge lately. Friends of Humanity and other mutant hate groups had been making headlines - and inroads. It was never exactly safe being a mutant, but sometimes at least they got to be kind of... back burner. The burner was decidedly on. Maybe medium-high heat. The kids were affected, too - and they'd had three new scholarship students in the last month who had come to the school after being disowned by their parents. The Headmaster, Ororo, and - of all people - Emma were empowered to serve as legal guardians, but it was getting more and more commonplace.
When Scott arrived at the table, Jean was clearly lost in thought, chewing her lower lip and staring at the table surface.
As Scott came over to the table, pies in tow, he did his best to smile. It wasn't necessarily unnatural for him to do so, but more often than not, those expressions were a public showing, and not necessarily a sincere expression for him. Particularly lately. Jean's own expressions told him plenty about that. He placed the two pies between them, then took his seat opposite Jean. He rested his chin on his hands, elbows propped up on the table as he looked at Jean with warm concern. He resisted the urge to start digging in... for now.
"You know, the idea of going out for pie was supposed to be to get away from thinking about work."
"Nothing distracts my brain like sweetness," Jean said, lifting her fork to nab a bite from the salted honey pie and smiling, casting aside the pall of the day. For better or worse, it would be there when she got back. "See, this is like... what I wish pecan pie tasted like. When I was a little girl, I read about pecan pie in a book way before I ever had it. My parents weren't really... well, pie people. Apart from pumpkin for Thanksgiving and apple for Fourth of July. It was always described as so sweet and sticky and I somehow never realized it would also, you know ... have nuts."
"When Charles gets back we should take a legitimate vacation. Like two weeks away. It's not like he won't owe us, right?" Jean grinned, fork and bite of pie dangling from her hand between them over the table.
After Jean had started having her fill, Scott joined in the sweet pie, with a subtle smile. He made some noises of delight, subdued as they were.
Scott took a few more forkfuls, right after Jean posed the idea. His brow narrowed, though not because he didn't like the idea... well, not necessarily, anyway. When was the last time he had called the Professor... something other than "the Professor"? It was a bizarre, infuriating idea, and not the part of the statement that he should be thinking about, but it stuck.
Once Scott swallowed his last portion, he stifled a laugh. "What did you have in mind? Our work has a habit of finding us, no matter how far we try to get away from it."
Jean dropped her fork with a clatter, looking at her husband like he was a stranger.
"Pie with nuts feels... nuts. Are you Mystique? What have you done with Scott?" Jean broke the act with a fond snicker, retrieving her fork from the table and wiping it clean with a napkin. She tried a mouthful of the quiche before replying.
"Global mutant crises follow us everywhere, yes, but teaching, advocacy, the podcast, and... let's be honest, being surrogate parents to dozens of kids... don't have to. For a week. Or two. We could do like whirlwind Europe - France, Italy, Germany, Spain... or like a week in Kyoto. Or... just a getaway for us to be us."
Scott winced. Even by his own standards, that had been a perfectly good opportunity that had slipped him by. He didn't have much of an excuse... or at least, not one that he was willing to admit, so he fell back on that sheepish grin he always made whenever Jean was upset with him, ironically or un-, before continuing with his side of the nuts pie.
The bigger thing that Scott was kicking himself for, though, was this conversation. He had been meaning to discuss this with Jean much earlier, and for the reasons that he felt his stubborn side acting up about this very idea. It was a strange feeling... but, not an unfamiliar one. Such was the Summers life. That, or the impact that the Professor had had on his life. He had never known anything else.
He still didn't. That thought lingered, eventually turning into a stern expression on Scott's face. "Jean... what "is" us? It's not that I wouldn't love to have a break. I would. But without the school, without the X-Men. Without all of those parts of our lives... well, you know what I mean.
"I'm not sure I ever knew what "me", or "you", or "us" was outside of those things."
"Well, we aren't parents, Scott. I am dedicated to the next generation of mutants and making the world a better place, too, but I would almost kill for a week or two without teen hormones seeping into my brain." Jean said, lifting a hand to her temples as Michael had some sort of spike of social anxiety and Bobby was radiating restless energy as always. At the school, the Faculty House was far enough from the Mansion that it reduced the dozens of teenagers to a dull roar, but they were always there. Jean's receptive empathy and telepathy were her natural strength. Much as she'd mastered, she could distance herself from the thoughts and feelings but couldn't fully shut them out. "I'm talking about a vacation, not leaving the life. And it isn't as if you couldn't scramble the Blackbird in an hour or less if something happened."
Scott blinked. Jean couldn't see it, but she would probably pick up on it psychically. He wasn't expecting her to mention parents, but on the other hand, that was what they had become, in a way. Looking after these students... well, Scott had felt his own share of pressure of trying to carry all of this on his shoulders. He hadn't thought too much about it lately, but it was there. That lingering doubt, wondering if you were measuring up to what he wanted you to be, to what you wanted you to be... and Scott wasn't even a telepath. Or an empath... He mentally grimaced. It was very easy for him to get lost in the work, to not even think about all of these things while he was going through the motions of leading the X-Men, helping run the Xavier Institute with Jean. It came up when he least expected. Now, certainly, but also at other times. It was strange, trying to quantify this to himself when Jean was right there, and not because he was trying to keep any of this from her. Scott had always struggled to make sense of his own thoughts, but he needed to make the effort, especially with this.
He nodded, forcing himself to smile. After all, this lunch, and the subject of this conversation, was supposed to be about getting away from these problems, if only for a little while. Kitty was right. He needed to learn how to unwind. It was something he had been trying to figure out for as loing as he had been at the Institute. Scott laughed. "Alright, you've got me there." Scott took another bite of the pie, remembering to savor it this time. "So, have you, uhh... been up to anything, lately? Other than the usual, I mean."
“The D&D group with the older students has been really engaging. I need to ask Hank to help me program in the first module to the Danger Room.” Jean said brightly, piercing a nut with her fork. “They’re a good group. You can see who they want to be already. How are your little protegees?”
Scott nodded, his expression in part betraying what he thought of that particular extracurricular, though he said no more on it for now. As he continued to chew on the pie, his brow furrowed. “If I’m going to be honest… taken. Not overtaken, but… taken.”
He sighs, pushing his plate of refreshment forward. “I don’t need to explain Quentin. I’m not sure I need to explain the… Cuckoos, either.” Scott folded his arms. “Is it really a good idea for a non-telepath to be teaching them? I feel out of my depth.”
“Emma seems to reproduce via ‘budding,’” Jean quipped, thinking of the identical teenagers.
“Quentin is a bully who doesn’t use muscles. The telepathy isn’t… irrelevant, but he needs help developing his character, judgement, and reasoning. All of which you have in spades. Don’t worry so much about powers - you can lead from the bigger picture.”
Scott takes a deep breath, gingerly placing his arms on the table as he leans forward. “I suppose you’re right. But I can’t help but worry what he gets up to when I’m not looking over his shoulder. … like, right now.” He shakes his head, taking another, larger, slice of pie.
“Boys will be boys. My point is that neither Quentin nor the Cuckoos need help with their technique - try to help them with those other things.”
“Do you think the Danger Room is suited for… your thing? It’s never been used like that before.”
“Would Eric like to make sure the ride is safe for children before anyone boards?” Jean asked with a coy smile.
Scott pauses, and stares at Jean for at least a few seconds. Then, he breaks into a coughing fit of laughter, shaking his head all the while. “Ma… maybe.”
He takes a sip of coffee, looking at Jean with similar coyness. “Did the Dungeon Master have something in mind?”
“Well, you have a very inventive Dungeon Master,” Jean said, unable to contain her amusement.
Scott raises an eyebrow, and smiled as he put the cup down. “Hopefully nothing inappropriate. Those recordings are pretty easy to get a hold of.”
“Kitty and I owe each other a lifetime of favors and she’s very good with computers.”
Scott’s confidence turned to dismay. He puts a hand on his forehead rather dramatically. “P-Please don’t. You know she’d lord that over me for months. Surely we can figure something else out.”
“You underestimate the power of the sisterhood. And my literal and emotional blackmail on Kate.”
Scott lets out a sigh of relief. “I believe you. You only call her Kate when it’s serious.”
“Kate is more serious than Kitty.”
“I am curious, though. Beyond basic teambuilding, what do you want to accomplish with this? I know I’m not exactly… “tabletop-savvy” or whatever you call it, but I have trouble wrapping my mind around how this helps prepare them for what’s coming.”
Jean giggled, swapping the two plates. “There’s a method to my madness. This also builds empathy, which is actually quite important to being heroic. And I’m curious to see how the Danger Room’s set probabilities play with Michael’s subconscious powers. It could be illustrative. Also if Michael is interested in the mechanics, it will help him build an intuitive feel for probabilities in a way that’s hard to replicate in a mathematics course.”
Michael… Scott sighed, inwardly. He wasn’t his student, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about him. And he did. Often. There were many students that had remained an enigma, but his case in particular was one that bordered on the worrying. As much as he wanted to say something, it wasn’t his place. He was Jean’s student, and she was more than capable of handling whatever that boy threw at her… probably. He wished he could make himself relax.
“Obviously the team dynamics, as you said. The improvisational nature also helps some people who are stuck in their ways to be more spontaneous and flexible, not only with their teammates, but with their surroundings and conditions. And for the firebrands, the team dynamics are especially important for giving them a reason outside themselves to be careful.”
“That’s the Cliff’s Notes, anyway. Oh, also this brand new concept called ‘fun’. I don’t know if that news has made it to you yet….”
Scott had apparently begun to slouch, staring slightly downward, by the end of Jean’s spiel. When she was finished, he couldn’t help but squint, much like he always did whenever he got ribbed. Especially when Jean was the ribber.
“...I can have fun.” He straightened in his seat, taking some more bites of food. They were making headway into the meal. He pointed a finger, j’accuse. “Name one time in the past week I didn’t understand ‘fun’.”
“I’d rather name ten times in the past week when you did understand fun.” Jean kissed his fingertip lightly.
Scott tries to hide his chagrin, but does so in vain. His grimace quickly turns into a smile while his fingertip turns into an open hand that reaches to briefly caress Jean’s cheek from across the table before seeing to the rest of his share of the pie.
“For getting away: it sounded like you had a place in mind. Did you?”
“How about a trip to Kobe, Japan. Actually Kyoto, but I wanted to lead with the good beef and it’s a short train ride away. It’s off season, but that’s the best time to see the real face of place. I honestly didn’t have a concrete plan. I wanted to talk to you about it first.”
Scott couldn’t hide the surprise, though there wasn’t as much there as he was expecting. He rubs his chin contemplatively. “Actually… that sounds great. I never actually visited Japan when… uhh…” He grimaces, sheepishly.
“When do we book tickets?”
“We’d probably want three weeks to prepare teaching plans and the like, but we could look at dates when we get back to the cottage.” Jean’s face lit up at the prospect. She looked at Scott seriously.
Scott studied Jean’s face for a moment, as if he was looking for something. Then Scott kissed her, quickly, sweetly. His hand lingered on Jean’s cheek for a while longer. “Have I ever told you that I loved you?”
Suddenly, Scott’s phone blipped in his pocket. Scott held his smile for a few more seconds, then as the phone kept ringing, the smile turned into a half-frown. The moment passed sooner than either of them preferred. “We should probably go make sure the kids aren’t burning down the mansion. Again.”
