A.N.: Hope you read and enjoy! Reviews would be very cool. Thanks.

1

Just Peachy

It had started out as the perfect night. Emma who had tried to nab Warren Worthington the third for a month now since she had arrived at the Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters, finally got what she had wished for and the golden-haired angel worth 64 bill...that was billion, had finally noticed her and asked her out on a date to a romantic evening at a Brazilian restaurant in the city, where he treated her to the sort of lifestyle her parents could approve of.

He had picked her up at around 7 in the evening, and she had chosen to wear a sleek form-fitting black dress, with a high slit up to her hips, so her long leg protruded boldly in the black Dior pumps she had shopped for the day prior just for this long-awaited date.

Hank had somehow coddled Warren into wearing a cummerbund thanks to Emma's skills of persuasion, as Hank was Warren's leading man. She did find the intellectual mutant friend good company in the otherwise so far dull mansion. The other residents were either shy or stand offish and all of them with the exception of herself were boys, and there were only 4 of them.

Bobby, the little prankster of the bunch was a bit too young for her to hold a civil conversation with, and he didn't seem much interested in girls just yet and he wasn't very interesting to begin with anyway, and having nothing in common, she more or less ignored him along with the half of the team that wasn't Hank or Warren.

Then there was that insufferable Scott Summers, just another young lad in the mansion who was rather aloof, in the manner of shy and reserved nerdy boys, who only came out of his shell to play once in a while when rough housing with the boys. Emma did not take to this mutant boy, he was awkward she decided and didn't pay much attention to her either, or he just didn't know how to act around females at all. He had strange boyish interests and she pegged him as an aloof introvert. She didn't have the patience to just stand around while he struggled to think of anything to say to her, or while he tried to patiently explain his strange little hobbies of playing battleship or putting battle plans together with his little boy toys. Collectible item World War II soldiers, he would defiantly say to correct her as she lost her temper and insulted his toys to try to get any sort of reaction from him. The boy was so guarded and his sunglasses and ruby mask did not help at all, she could hardly remember he was even human by the way his face was always too calm or blank... or stoic.

And then Warren. He shone like the mature older beacon he was among these little boys, and his renowned charm, good looks, high taste of luxury and aristocracy were almost penned for her, as if their parents had arranged for them a long time ago, as those things often worked.

He had escorted her into the restaurant full of high profile, high society people, and scintillating smells of sizzling meat and the precursory revealing uniform dresses the Brazilian models hired as waitresses wore.

They were sat down in a large cozy booth by a small cascade of water pouring into a bubbling fountain and as their entrees and offers of various meat on swords arrived, Emma beamed with giddiness. Warren had ordered them wine and alcohol which kept coming by the iced up bucket! He was so mature and of age, being over 21 unlike the rest of the residents of the mansion and Emma herself, just shy of her 19th birthday.

The evening was panning out nicely, their final course had come when suddenly Emma found herself lumped next to Scott Summers.

He had come shortly after the thin steaks and palate cleansers were served, and plunked himself obliviously down between the two at dinner.

Emma scrunched her nose and lifted a brow at the corduroy tan-colored khakis he wore with black sneakers, and long-sleeved denim button up shirt he had on unbuttoned over his dark red t-shirt, the thin blue denim sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He dressed, so...his age! Like a typical teenage boy, which Emma did not consider herself as a teen, as she sat elegantly in her new dress with a 23 year old man!

Emma crossly made a point to stare at her meal as the idiotic boy jabbered away in boyish noises with her date who did not seem as cross as she about this intrusion to a perfectly civil and fancy evening. As picky and snobbish Warren was, he had a strange tolerance and fondness for his friend Scott. Emma found it his less endearing trait.

It was unbearable, thus she snapped viciously, "Why are you here?"

Scott momentarily subsided his eager conversation with his older friend and thought for a second before replying, "Why...Warr invited me out tonight! I'm sorry do you mind...Emma?"

He had said her name almost as a question, hesitantly as though he did not know her and was uncertain what to call her. Which was mostly true despite their living under the same roof.

Emma did not expect his calm reaction, expecting more bafflement and embarrassment. But he was so unaware of himself.

Warren laughed agreeably, "Ah I ran into Scott at Xavier's on the way in, asked him what he was doing on a Saturday night, and he said nothing. So I couldn't leave the poor bastard at home by himself! Why aren't you out living the life of a reckless youth Summers? Getting lucky with girls or undoubtedly attending sketchy parties? I remember what it was like being in high school..."

Scott blushed at the mention of girls, stammering, "Heh...I-uh-I don't think...well...girls?" This lead to Emma rolling her eyes involuntarily. Why was he so damn self-conscious? He was impossible.

He punched Warren light-heartedly in the shoulder and chuckled, "I uh don't think your sort of youth is my scene, and what are you talking about? You still live the exact same way you did 5 years ago! Booze, drugs, parties, girls, no responsibilities, a butler!"

Warren laughed at the teasings and shrugged helplessly.

The evening went on more or less the same and the main course had been served with Emma sitting in stony silence, Warren harassing Scott in male companionship and Emma kept catching Warren's eyes following the servers in their skin tight dining dresses blatantly.

Scott ignored the servers, and Emma couldn't help but mundanely wonder if he was batting on the same team or whatever homosexual metaphors were out there, or if he was just so stiff and boring he didn't care about girls and...sex?

She shook her head and turned back to Warren droning on about numbers and politics and the Knicks game to Scott. It was weird to think about Scott and sex in the same thought, she didn't like where it was going in her head so she stopped.

By the end of dinner, Warren had greeted two of his friends from accounting school, and one of their dates, an anorexic druggie socialite type Emma only knew too well, and had successfully picked up some supermodel named Candy.

They went out to Warren's black limousine, and if Scott Summers felt more out of place than ever among these upper class older kids all polished in their dinner attire, while he was in his t-shirt and corduroy pants, of all things CORDUROY, he did not show it. He was merely more silent at times, and hung back from the group politely as they mentioned going to a party in the upper east side.

Emma too had become silent throughout the dinner and hung back sullenly, not even bothering to hide her discontentment as well as disdain for the boy beside her who shuffled his feet with his hands in his pockets.

Scott who insisted on going home, to which Emma insisted that he depart from them as well, had been bullied into staying for the party by an over-enthusiastic and social Warren, and as the night wore on, with Warren sitting surrounded by jaded wealthy kids in a mod white lounge of someone's pent house, Candy on his lap, snorting a line of cocaine from a mirror, Scott's outcast status was more apparent and Emma was embarrassed just looking at him sitting like a wallflower in a far corner, blankly looking on and refusing seductive advances from overly sexed up New York socialite girls with their glitter and lipstick, who found his casual and under dressed state to be appealing in some laid back bad boy fantasy or other. Now that Emma reassessed the scene, it seemed that Warren in his tux was overdressed next to Scott who could not be more effortless.

Emma drained her glasses of champagne and gin and tonics without a break to numb the boredom and over-done...ness of it all.

After a while Scott had disappeared and Emma too decided to go out on the balcony for a breath of fresh air and maybe a lone cigarette.

She went up to the railing and inhaled a Capri, as Scott shuffled up next to her, taking his vintage varsity bomber jacket off.

Emma shivered and rubbed her hands together while taking in the cold night air in her revealing sleek dress.

She felt heavy fabric settle on her shoulders and jumped, turning as if noticing Scott's presence for the first time.

He firmly put his jacket around her shoulders and she was about to protest about wearing something of such low caliber, but felt the heat of his previous body warmth sink in and the scent of a clean boy and soap drifted about her, encasing her in more comfort and warmth. Maybe just this once she wouldn't care that she was wearing such a lowly garment that belonged to Scott. It was rather warm...

Emma kept her mouth shut, staring straight ahead while smoking, knowing Scott was so awkward he was just the kind of boy who did not mind silence or care to create conversation.

He surprised her when he asked timidly but good-naturedly. "Having a good night?"

Emma eyed him with disdain and blew out cold smoke, "I was...Until you decided to show up and play third wheel." Not one to interact with Scott often, there was no holding back now.

The brown haired boy put his hands up in defense, "Hey Warren was the one who called me and told me to come. He thought the more...would be the merrier. And wanted a wingman. Besides you didn't look like you were having so much fun." Emma never pegged Scott to be the observative type, especially when it came to observing her.

Emma scoffed, "A wingman for what? Don't answer that. Haven't you had enough yet?"

Scott nodded not getting the insult, "Yeah, I was actually gonna leave, don't think he'd mind anymore. Would you maybe want to join me? You seem...cold...and er, uncomfortable."

Emma's sharp shoulders under the large jacket stiffened, the only comment on her appearance he made was about her looking uncomfortable when other men had told her she looked fantastic and she could hear them thinking more adult themed compliments.

He took the hint at her silence in response and amended, "I just don't see how you ladies can wear those high heels and like, tight dresses. Must get sick of it after a while, don't you? Though I can't complain, you do look...s-stunning in them."

"Then don't complain, no one's wearing anything like this for you."

Scott shrugged again, a flop of his glossy brown hair dropped over his forehead, god even his hair was just messy and boyish!

Couldn't he see that Warren and respectable young gentlemen wore gel or mousse in their hair?

Emma wondered if Scott even put any product in his hair like Warren did every morning.

Warren probably used more than she did too though. Come to think of it, Warren with the exact same sort of background as her, was just as hoity toity and feminine as her, and it took Emma this long to realize it, as she eyed him through the glass balcony doors, where he was sitting and laughing with his friends, in an immaculate designer suit, professionally blown out blonde hair, and those eyebrows of his had to have been waxed. Probably daily.

As if he were the telepath, Scott too looked in at his friend bemusedly and asked with a small smile, "May I get a word in on my buddy Warr, here?"

Emma rolled her eyes and stated carelessly, "If you must speak at all."

That small smile did not go away much to Emma's dismay. "Well...just don't be fooled by his fun-having...careless behavior. Yes, he is a party boy, but, there really is more to him. You might want to give him another chance, he's a lot more...well self-conscious than he likes to show. That's why he has to have all this show and tell and social atmosphere around him...like an entourage! And let me tell you...he has mentioned you right before tonight...and I think he's well, fond of you. And he definitely wants you to be part of that entourage."

Inhaling the last deep drag of her skinny white designer cigarette, Emma let Scott's sure-spoken words sink in and grazed his head for the sincerity of them, which she found, and also unmentioned bits like how insecure Warren was that he had to have his daily pamperings, and could not leave his room without heavy layers of gel and light "man" foundation.

As she telepathically stroked his head for the surface thoughts, she was surprised at how it did feel like her powers were stroking his head, and how he felt like a soft warm puppy telepathically with only warm honeyed sincere thoughts and without the complications of excessive testosterone fueled ulterior motives and whatnot.

She semi-consciously wondered if he physically felt like a soft warm...puppy.

Emma hated to admit she thought anything was cute, but she had a soft spot for soft little creatures and the feelings of his head invoked that warm fuzziness.

She spit unladylike over the balcony to erase these thoughts. Yuck!

Scott unconsciously flexed his arm curling his biceps toward himself as he absent-mindedly looked at his knuckles before continuing, "I mean, he-no, any guy would be questionable if they didn't want to spend time with you, so if you have your doubts about his...erm attention span, well, just give him time, he needs a lot of time to do things his own way."

Emma flicked away the rest of Scott's words with a casual wave of her fingers before flicking her own cigarette butt over the railing and asked, "So does that make you a questionable boy?"

His expression shifted to confused, "Huh?"

Emma bit back her tongue from imitating his slow 'huh?' mockingly and looked down as she brushed a loose strand of blonde hair back, "You're among the few who doesn't seem to want to ever spend much time with me at all, so doesn't that make you questionable persay in your own words?"

This time Scott mimicked himself again with another slower, "Huuh?"

She had to laugh at his blushing face, what was he blushing for? If it was that easy to set Summers off, he didn't have much hope in the girl department anytime soon so maybe he was gay after all. Emma exasperatedly sighed, "I mean not that I mind or noticed much that you don't grace me with your presence as I promise you it isn't missed, but it was just a pointless observation, forget I said anything. This is what happens when you try to make conversation with a dork."

"Who's the dork then in this case? We both seem to be making a lot of open ended implications here."

Emma smiled a small genuine smile for the first time in the evening, "Oh get over yourself you geek."

Scott brought his brows down and smirked, "Never. Make me!"

Emma smiled wider, who knew, maybe Summers did secretly possess wit and some sort of dry humor,which was how she liked it, as dry as her martinis. "How would you propose I even make you do anything?" Emma skimmed the lines of flirtation, barely caring enough for banter but bored enough to entertain this borderline flirtation that stood out as the sad sole entertainment she'd had all night.

He pointed at her hands and announced vaguely, "You're done with your cigarette...Want to go back inside?"

Emma noticed that she had been done with her cigarette for some time and had almost forgotten the cold or going back to the party inside during their short-lived talk although it was a record-breaking one with Summers.

Emma muttered more to herself than him, "No not really."

He stepped closer to her and Emma did not even notice she'd been holding her breath when that tiny movement startled a sharp intake of air from her.

He pointed again at her wrist protruding from his large jacket, his finger almost close enough to touch the tiny hairs standing up on it. "You're cold, you should get back in. Goosebumps!"

She stared at his face, almost as if trying to comprehend what he was saying before it hit her and she snapped, "Oh right."

She didn't bother to snark that she hadn't heard the term goosebumps since she was five.

After closing the sliding glass door shut, Emma almost felt as if the cold night air out on the balcony was warmer and more refreshing. Inside smelt of cloudy cigar smoke, alcohol, and burning money.

Warren's golden head shone like a halo through a thick cloud infused with his own cigar smoke and the cigarettes dangling from the lips of his companions who were busy cheering him on as he drank from a literal crystal goblet full of some pink drink.

Emma turned just in time to see Scott disappearing through the front door, and against her better judgement, and left with no other options, followed him,after glancing back at Warren one last time lost in the smoke and thicket of socialites.

She followed him down a block where he stood on a street corner and looked around at the dark and late night.

He didn't seem surprised to see her come up beside him, and asked, "Are you hungry?"

Emma, whose appetite had been lost at her failed dinner, replied, "Eating after 6 o'clock? That goes against every rule."

Scott smiled impishly, "Whose rules? You're breaking a rule hanging out with me then, so there aren't really any rules to abide by now. Take a walk on the wild side.", he said sarcastically.

"Who said I was hanging out with you? That's preposterous. Oh and I've been on the wild side. Can't say you have though, have you? Would the virtuous little virginal boy scout actually dare to go there?"

Emma had to chastise herself and restrain her coy and flirtatious smirk, it was almost like a reflex when she spoke to Summers, as of tonight since it was her first time actually speaking with him.

The virginal boy scout raised his eye brows in amusement. "So you're heading back to the mansion then? That's a good idea, it's late on a Saturday night, you should get back, I'll hail you a cab."

There was a moment of silence and then Emma burst out laughing, actually bending over.

After her chortles quieted, she sighed, "The only places to eat right now are food vendors and fast food joints, if you're even thinking of going to any of these places..."

He laughed and began to walk down the street, beckoning for her to come with him with a subtle hand behind her back, although without touching her.

"Come on now, not only that but we're taking public transportation, bet you've never ridden a subway before huh?"

Emma who was being lead by Scott, stiffened and stopped, "Well...No, but I know I detest them. Which is why I've never ridden on one."

Scott shook his head and muttered with a sly grin lopsided grin, "I'm not even going to point out the obvious irony in what you just said."

As Emma tried carefully to not make any contact with anything aboard the subway, and kept her eye sharp for any muggers and vicious murderers aboard the nearly empty train, she reflected the perilous journey getting there, in the underground stuffy and smelly depths of New York, there had been many stairs, so many stairs! She had carefully made her way down and Scott had helpfully stopped and grabbed her arm gingerly helping her make her way down the steps in her new shoes.

They made a silly pair aboard the metro, her in her sleek Dior evening gown and sparkling hair in a low chignon, and him in his casual t-shirt and corduroys and rumpled brown hair.

Her annoyance grew when Scott began to laugh at the horrified expression on her face at the homeless woman a couple seats down who was picking a loud and nonsensical fight with a gaggle of drunken teen skater boys.

Maybe the alcohol she'd had with Warren earlier was starting to sink in, but she too found herself laughing a little as she heard the crazy homeless lady's ranting. Something about repentance for the end was near and the giant flaming rotisserie chicken in the sky coming to bring fiery terror to them all.

Scott pulled a bottle of wine out from his side, that Emma had somehow missed, it was a nice brand of Chardonnay, at least a two decades old, "Bet you've never bum drank on a subway either, like a true New Yorker."

Emma eyed the bottle with a raised brow, "Here? Really? Where did you get that? I can't believe you, Scott Summers is in possession of alcohol with intent to drink it."

The brown haired boy shrugged, "I jacked it from that party we were just at, I guess I was fueled by my own anger at Warren."

Emma cocked her head to the side, she wondered why he was angry with Warren, when he seemed so mild-mannered and okay with his friend and why or who he had bum drank with before on a New York City subway with when he seemed so reserved and much like a loner with the exception of the relations and confines within the Xavier's Institute.

He continued, "And it's okay, we're in a train in New York City, can't get much worse than this, we can get away with it."

He expertly popped the cork open with his bare hands and offered the full bottle to Emma who stared at him blankly before shrugging it off as well and taking the bottle, tilting it up and taking a large swig from it.

She handed it back, wiping her mouth with the back of her diamond braceletted hand, and by the time they had reached Chelsea, the bottle was empty and the two were laughing like two drunk bums on a New York City subway at 3 AM.

Getting out was a blur but as they reached the exit, Emma looked up to see looming stairs leading up to the dark night, and she groaned loudly, slumping against Scott's shoulder, she muffled something of protest.

Scott chuckled and easily swung Emma up on his back and began to sprint up the tall stairs leading outside.

She giggled drunkenly in his ear and let her legs limply swing from side to side on his back, not putting caution to her attire.

Panting, he reached an open takeout Chinese restaurant on a busy little street and dropped Emma down on her feet, then pulled the door open for her, letting her in.

Inside, a cheerful Chinese hostess greeted them and ushered them eagerly to a corner table of two by some dangling Christmas lights that twinkled brightly in the dim restaurant.

Emma looked around at the peculiar little place, and was about to comment on the tacky shabbiness of it, but then their food was before them in an instant almost as soon as Scott had ordered for them, knowing just what to get.

As Emma devoured the hot, flavorful and succulent dishes down in her intoxicated state, she realized how hungry she had actually been.

The cheap meal was far more satisfying than what she had at the many coursed Brazillian restaurant and she did not regret it one bit as she sat back contentedly, smoking a cigarette openly inside as it was New York city and she was young and wearing a 10,000 dollar dress in a typical tiny NYC kitschy Chinese restaurant, and no one minded if they were not doing the same.

No one in there knew she was a mutant or Emma Frost except the one person in the world who still could not care any less, and therefore she felt fabulous.

After Scott had paid and left their overenthusiastic waitress a generous tip in good spirits, he lead Emma out on to the street where she swayed and looked around at the late night lovers, they were all either trendy or broke or both and they all had in common another to share the forbidden time of night with, in a city that never slept and where the exhilaration came just from the promise of some adventure on every street corner.

Scott summoned a cab that was passing through the little street and not forgetting his manners, held the door open for Emma. She collapsed inside and took her shoes off unexpectedly, not caring that she would never do that in any public space, as she rubbed her sore feet. Beauty really did come with a price.

Scott settled beside her as the car began its trek to the outskirts of the city back home, and admitted, "I think I subjected you to enough torture on the subway for tonight, so now you have to endure a ride back in a common taxi cab."

At the end of his statement, Emma could have almost imagined that he actually sounded guilty or worried.

Emma smiled exuberantly, forgetting herself and who he was, for she was having quite an admittedly good time.

She stretched out against the door and leaned back, flinging her legs over Scott's lap, who had been careful to sit on the other end by the other door.

She lazily yawned and blearily fluttering her long lashes, tickled Scott's brain telepathically, too drowsy and lazy to say it, so she thought to him, "Give me a foot rub." She hadn't meant to telepathically growl it but she was feeling that languorous and was about to repeat herself again sleepily, but Scott who had sat stunned for a moment darted a quick look at her and stuttered, "Uh...you c-can't just demand me like that..."

The taxi driver who could only hear Scott's side of the conversation, asked alarmed, "Excuse me?"

Scott shook his head, "Oh nothing, not you, sorry." The driver quirked a brow in the rear view mirror but continued to drive, used to madmen in the backseat.

Emma leaned forward, and draped a hand on Scott's shoulder, staring him intently in the eyes, or what she could find of him through his damned sunglasses, "Pretty please? With a cherry on top. I demand what I please, my feet are sore and that is honestly the most walking I've ever done in this city, maybe I'm not a real New Yorker but I can certainly afford to live like one without that pedestrian lifestyle."

To be honest with herself, Emma just had the sudden desire to see Scott Summers massage her delicate feet. Not that she was into that kind of thing, but she just wanted to see what his hands would feel like and how he would look doing it, in the most subtle way she could think of. And she did want something to ease the aches in her feet.

Scott hesitated and did not speak, staring at her toes, and she was about to give up, figuring he wouldn't actually do it to be realistic, but then she felt a wonderful warm pressure on her soles and to her glee, saw him gingerly handling her feet.

The rest was history as she sank into the filthy contaminated seats of a common taxi cab in bliss, the pain dulling under the miraculous touch of Scott Summers' own very sturdy hands.

As they snuck inside the mansion gates, Scott being overly cautious causing Emma to break into fits of giggles which Scott took way to seriously with glares in her direction, Emma was reminded once again of how obedient and disciplined the boy was. Heck take him out of his nerdy clothes and put him in his X-Men uniform and the boy was a born killing machine. They weren't all made like that, Emma thought wistfully to herself.

Once in the safety of the sprawling moonlit backyard, Emma felt another burst of energy and skipped off to the pool house which was rarely used by the inhabitants of the mansion. Scott who was trying to lead her inside, grabbed her arm impatiently, trying to pull her with him.

The blonde danced out of arm's reach and mirthfully dared with a malicious gleam in her eyes, "Go steal another bottle from Xavier's prized liquor cabinet."

Scott froze and gulped, "Um, I'm sure that's more Logan's than the Professor's..."

Emma twirled back towards Scott and tilted her head, eyeing him like a taunting and very full, very vain tiger contemplating its excess prey.

Scott looked back at the dark and silent mansion then back at Emma, shimmering in the white moonlight and in her elegant dress, her low chignon coming out of place leaving uncharacteristic fly away strands of platinum in her face.

He scowled rather cutely and menacingly, his firm jaw tightened, before storming inside, away from her.

Emma stood in place for what seemed to be a few minutes, just swaying in the moonlight, feeling more carefree than she had in a while, and then decided to follow him and go to her own bedroom or just go to the pool house where she would fall asleep.

However, a tall dark figure emerged from the shadowy recesses of the mansion and became larger and larger until Scott was in front of her, stoutly thrusting a bottle of Peach Schnapps at her.

Emma looked and then chortled again, "Peach schnapps? Really? My you've a lot to learn golden boy."

Scott scowled even more and retorted, "It was dark, okay? I didn't want to risk waking anyone up and had to be stealthy as in quick, and red lenses don't make for great vision in the dark. Why didn't you try instead of making me do it."

Emma pouted, "What's the fun in that?"

Scott pouted in return, "You just wanted me to fetch you something."

Emma pursed her lips, "No, well maybe. I wanted to see Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, be a petty teen for once, break Xavier's rule, and steal liquor. Can't it be that simple?"

Not pausing another second, Emma turned on her heels and beckoned for him to come with her as she headed towards the dark pool house.

"So-like wha-what's the deal with you and Warr then?"

Emma glanced at Scott who was hanging over the sofa inside the poolhouse, his head and arms dangling off the side by her, as she leaned against the sofa with her legs stretched out and shoes kicked off, taking turns with the bottle of peach schnapps which was quite tasty like warm peach syrup.

His hair was tousled sloppily, his shirt rumpled and pulled up above his taut navel, and his brows were loose of his custom tension, rather comedic as he looked at her upside down.

Emma took another large swallow of schnapps and threw her hands up, "I dunno! You would know more than I, he just you know suddenly asked me on a date and that's that. Why don't you do that?"

Emma swung her head from side to side, before focusing back on Scott who had turned a tinge red at his upper cheeks, "Whaddyamean. A-ask y-you?"

She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and slurred, "Noooo...I mea-I meant, ask girls out on dates. An' all that rubbish."

Scott laughed and ran a hand over his face and hair, muttering, "Oh gees."

Emma smacked his arm, "Seriously! Why, why you hafta be so...dull all the time? You might actually have potential Summers."

The red tinge turned brighter and Scott lolled his head backwards over the edge of the sofa so it was dangling even lower towards the ground. He furrowed his silky eyebrows and said, "I-I guess I just haven't found the...right girl."

Emma stared at him, "That's bullshit."

She repeated, "Utter bullshit. You know that has nothing to do with it, you're just too damn shy and self-defeating, for whatever inane reason there migh' be. It's quite annoying, though I can see why some might think it's an endearing quality."

He rambled, "Well...I mean, like you said, I'm...kind of a huge nerd, a freak. Girls don't come as easy to me as it does to Warr. That lucky bastard..."

Unbelievable, thought Emma, who saw that Scott truly believed he was this huge untouchable geek that girls were not attracted to at all. Yeah right, she mused, an untouchable geek with the body of a male model or superhero, as she took a long perverse peek at his perfectly toned and sculpted abs. She never thought of him that way, it was easy to believe he was an unattractive introverted nerd, but that did not stop her from taking another greedy and probably obvious in the state of their level of inebriation, stare at his body.

Another thing he said caught her attention and she blurted out, "Why didn't you tell me 'bout why you were so mad at Warren?"

"'Cause you never asked? Or show any intention in knowing why or what I think?" Scott took an upside down pull of the bottle, nearly choking, rather adorably.

Answering her question, he confessed vaguely, "It's easy to be friends with Warr, he's really a great guy, but even as his friend, it's hard not to get aggravated with him. I mean, here he is, he has everything handed to him his whole life, and a girl like you, Emma Freakin' Frost, pays attention to him, he can get dates with someone like you, but he doesn't appreciate what he's got right in front of him! He's sometimes selfish and ignorant and has the attention span of a five year old. He can land a date with you but he takes the night for granted and figures he doesn't have to wait hand and foot on someone like you, when anyone-anyone else would give all they got to even get a girl like you. I bet you're used to guys doing anything for you, giving you everything you could possibly want."

Emma looked at him again in contemplation and thought to herself, maybe not do anything, or give everything, as she thought of how he had gone against his own anal rules and risked trouble for her to fetch her things she did not even need or care for as much. That hadn't been on the spectrum of everything, but it still counted when she tapped into Scott's mind and his engraved virtues and morals.

Maybe it was the immense amounts they both had had to drink that night and early dawn, as the sky started to lighten slightly, but Emma was beginning to feel really warm inside.

In response, she simply shrugged it off, "Couldn't have guessed from earlier interactions with you that you had such a high opinion of me. And I'm not really that kind of girl you seem to have delirious notions of...And you know what? F-forget what I said, I don't even want to talk about Warren at all right now, now that I mention it, I had to bear listening to that angel-haired pansy talk about himself all night."

Scott giggled boyishly, his brown hair hanging off his head toward the floor, "Heh, you said pansy."

Emma snuggled up to him where he hung off the sofa and sleepily looked at him one last time, moving her hand subconsciously over his forehead and parting his soft brown hair. She trailed a finger down to his jaw line and neck, leaning her head on the top of his chest, side draped over the edge of the sofa, not taking her eyes off of him in puzzlement.

Her face was close to his and he could smell the peach off her breath and at that moment as drunk hormones go, making the beholders bolder and more irrational as well as friendlier, both wanted to see what the sweet warm taste of peach mingled on their lips and cool tongues would feel like, be like...

And so their lips locked satisfyingly, abruptly, as both only had to dart forth a centimeter or so in that moment they had, she sitting up right on the floor besides the sofa and he lying down, hanging off of it.

In that moment, their quick kiss mixed with tingly peach taste and scent, warm lips and cool tongues, he could imagine her soft cheek being like the soft fuzzed skin of a ripe peach, and she held the back of his head, with her hands clasped in his hair at the nape of his neck and he was even softer and warmer and sweeter than she imagined.

She released him just as abruptly and inhaled deeply, scintilla-tingly, and he sucked in a deep breath too, staring at her with different, hazy eyes, not that of a foe or stranger, but a deeper connection that could not be named for they had not developed an actual acquaintanceship yet.

The hazy grin that came over his face was drunker from what they had briefly shared than from the alcohol they had been consuming all night.

The sun had come up in their oblivion and illuminated everything with a fuzzy, peachy glow, radiating the warmth and rosy cheeks emanating from within both of them.

But it was all probably just from being carried away by the alcohol on both parts, which is what Emma told herself again in the afternoon later that day as she busily re-assorted her walk in closet, and tried her best to avoid thinking of someone she had only thought of as the odd geek until yesterday.

When they finally came to be in the same room later that evening for dinner, far after they had parted ways soon after the forbidden and spontaneous lip lock, he finally raised his eyes to look at her and blushing a little behind his red shades at his tinged upper cheeks, he smiled impishly, acknowledging her and she too found her cold exterior melting and locked eyes with him, finding them illuminated behind the ruby quartz's depths, and smiled back, watching him scoot a chair back to take his seat across from her at the dinner table.

Maybe they could pretend the kiss had never happened, but for now the warmth of last night that Emma experienced remained and she was fine with that, feeling that she had found a friend, who considered her the same way now despite previous biases. And she was just fine with having Scott Summers as a friend, or any friend at all of his nature.

It was unspoken, but from then on the mansion experienced a strange shift of events overnight and the two were fast friends, doing everything in power together, a new sense of politeness coming over them rather than the snide remarks and shy awkwardness they had before on rare encounters.

They had not paid attention, a few weeks later when they were busy skinny dipping by sunlight when all the other residents were out on some business conferences and picnics on the younger students' part-the awkwardness of skinny dipping erased by their shy but polite tacit agreement of platonic and playful relations- of the mental announcement Xavier had sent to all of the residents, that a new mutant would be joining them, a girl by the name of Jean Grey.

A.N.: Review please!