Since I got good responses with my other Jean Grey and Warren Worthington III stories, I decided to go ahead with this one-shot as well. I hope you enjoy. This story was inspired by a song by my all-time favorite singer: Taylor Swift's 'Speak Now'. Yes, cheesy, but decide after you read, please.

This is post X-men, as if X2 and X-men: The Last Stand had never happened.

Warren looked down the aisle at the most beautiful woman in the world, to him anyway, and saw her come forward in her wedding dress. She was too good for him in his opinion, always had been, and always will be. That's probably why he wasn't the one she was marrying.

The lucky bastard happened to be one of his best friends, Scott Summers aka Cyclops. Why did life always like to play such cruel jokes on its occupants?

Warren was dressed up in one of the best tuxedo's he could find that wouldn't leave him feeling like he was dying in the summer sun with a not-obviously-fake smile plastered onto his face for the woman of his dreams and the man who had stolen her away.

Scott and he had been close almost from the moment they had met. Their backgrounds didn't matter when it was the two of them. They were just two teenage boys looking for fun.

Fun threw them a wild card with fiery red hair, piercing green eyes, and enough wit for the world. Her name was Jean Grey and it was love at first sight.

For him anyway. She never showed much interest in him. It had always been Scott, that shy, smart boy in the corner of the classroom who was clearly insecure of everyone and everything.

It seemed like anyone who had met the young girl of the male sex, and sometimes of the female, had fallen hard for her. Himself, Scott, Hank (though it was a quickly passed infatuation), Logan, even some of the students had harbored crushes on their teacher.

A rumor was even passed around the school that Charles Xavier himself was attracted to the woman, though Warren didn't think it was too alarming if it was true. There are eighty year old women in love with him, so what if her mentor, who was much younger than eighty, had held a crush on her at one point.

Warren hadn't known how to feel, and still didn't to this day, about Scott and Jean. Sure, he was happy that his best friend had found someone to love, but why did it have to be her?

Did Scott know how many nights Jean had come to him crying her heart out about how Scott never paid attention to her anymore? How many times Warren had glued Jean's heart back together so she could just run off with Scott again? Jean deserved someone who would be there for her; someone who would actually show love and affection for her and treat her right. Scott didn't seem to fit that bill all the way.

Warren didn't hate Scott. Scott was still his best friend, but he was still angry with him nonetheless. How could he have the guts to treat this absolute angel in this way? And Warren knew a thing or two about angels, or at least being considered them in the minds of others.

Though being considered one by others for having magnificent white wings was altogether different than being considered one for having a heart as big as Jean's. There were very few people who did, even fewer now-a-days, and they all seemed to live at the Institute: Jean, Charles, and Ororo.

The pastor who had been hired for the ceremony motioned them to be seated. Warren tried to focus on the words being spoken, but found it was rather hard, since he really didn't want to be there.

"If anyone who does not wish this couple to be wed on this day, please come forward and speak now or forever hold your peace."

The silence that filled the room at that point was outstanding and tension filled, at least to Warren. He wasn't sure if anyone else was feeling the same, but wished the moment to be done as quickly as possible.

"WAIT!"

Though he couldn't see her face, he could tell she was scared from her posture. Scott turned to her, "What's wrong?"

She faced him and Warren could see the tears overflowing her eyes, "I-I-I...I can't do this."

A collective gasp and a few hisses passed through the crowd, followed by a whispered, "Shush!"

"Why?" Scott asked. "What's wrong?"

"I..." She turned away from him. "I don't love you."

This time, the crowd didn't even bother with gasps and shot straight to whispers. Scott looked extremely hurt, "Why?"

Jean looked at him, just short of sobbing now, "You never really loved me. Not like I loved you. Because of that, I lost whatever I felt for you."

"This is because of him isn't it," Scott said angrily.

Warren's heart dropped to his stomach, thinking Scott suspected him, before remembering Logan and the tension that had always surrounded the two of them.

Jean shook her head, causing a few teardrops to fly off of her jaw, "No, not Logan. I never loved him."

"There is someone else though, right?" Scott pressed on, his fists clenching tighter and tighter.

"Scott," Charles spoke up from his wheelchair. "Maybe this is a conversation best held in private."

It was Jean who shook her head, "No Professor. After what I'm doing now, he has every right to force me to say it here and now."

"Then say it," Scott said, a tear he hadn't noticed trickling down his anger reddened cheeks.

Warren sat on the edge of his seat, ready to jump in between them in case Scott involuntarily struck out at Jean.

In a whisper only heard by those in the front row, who were thankfully only family and Charles, Ororo, Hank, and himself, she said, "Warren."

All around them were murmurs of "what did she say?" and "who is it?", but the answer became clear as the front row and the almost bride and groom's eyes met his. Warren fell out of his chair, landing with a thud on the ground. Maybe sitting on the edge wasn't such a good idea after all.

"What?" Scott and Warren said at the same time.

"We never did anything behind your back," Jean said quickly, wiping her tears away. "But he's always been there for me when you wouldn't be."

Scott turned to face the blond who had come to be more like a brother, "Did you know?"

Warren, still completely filled with shock, shook his head. Scott sighed, wiped the tear off of his cheek, and helped his best friend to his feet, whispering a quick, "Take care of her."

As Jean launched himself into his arms and burying her face in his chest as she had done so many times before, he only hoped that he was up to the task he had put on all of the others before.

What did you all think? Please leave a review so I know whether this is a couple I should continue to write stories for.