A.N.: I have been toying around with the basic and typical plot lines seen in the X-Men stories and wanted to flip some things around like age and relationships. Scott is usually the older teacher figure but I wanted to put him in a role that he rarely sees. As a youth among a world of grownups, not vice-versa. Please give me reviews! Thank you.

Age is Just a Goddamn Number

-1-

I am a working professional. I deal with my patients and students and business associates like the grown-up, mature, and professional woman that I am. Objectivity is essential to me in my field of work. But sometimes, there are these obstacles that may come out as distractions, and even years of med school, training, and various degrees has not prepared me for something like this. And that is carnage in every aspect but the sort I am inclined to deal with in medical practice and physical training or combat.

It happens every morning from Monday through Friday, at the start of class when I am settling down, trying to casually sit at my desk with my lesson plans, as if I am casually waiting for my week day students to file in accordingly to the time, casually as if I am not waiting for any specific student, because I treat them all fairly and objectively. Okay so maybe today I put on an extra whiff of perfume, which causes Logan to crinkle his nose due to his extra sensitive smell and look at me strangely, accusatory. Why so accusing? I am a woman after all and I do like to smell good for no reason other than my own.

I ignore how dithery I get and the expectant fast pulse of my heart beat in anticipation of something I won't get into. Every morning, this causes me to question my career choice and also makes me feel like the giggly and nervous school girl I am supposed to be teaching.

Okay, so it's two minutes to class time, and I'm looking at the clock entirely for my own teaching purposes. He usually comes in earliest at this time, always punctual and so polite in his coming ins. Then in he comes, usually alone but sometimes one of my dear younger girl students manages to snag him and come in on his arm, fawning idiotically over him. Don't get me wrong, I love all of my students dearly and equally and I, with a grad school education and being a perfectly intelligent older woman in a man's profession, will not get envious of my teenage students.

I like to keep it casual for work, I leave no lipstick marks on my coffee mug, I wear conservative knit sweaters and loose slacks and sensible shoes. Nothing fancy. Just today I thought it would be nice to put on some lipstick, perfume, and maybe let my hair down just this once. There is no other possible reason I would do this than for my own pleasure.

He comes in, so stoic of a face, such perfect posture for a young boy, broad and promising shoulders, and lean build. Of course, even his good taste in clothes like his usual shirts and pants do not distract me from the fact that I have seen this minor in less than that and have found it satisfying to the point of guilt. He sits near the front, and I get to stare at his working form without anyone getting too suspicious if I just pretend to be addressing the whole class in front of me. Oh gosh, how he glides into that chair, his ass is the finest and he is so sculpted and I am so getting arrested if I project these thoughts.

So what if I'm wearing my favorite sweater which happens to be red like his glasses and compliments his tan and chestnut hair so brilliantly. It's just an old sweater that I happen to like a lot. I should not be feeling this guilty. I have nothing to be ashamed of, as nothing is happening that is wrong. Except maybe… the dirty thoughts and fantasies I might indulge in.

Is it such a bad thing that I may have kept his papers after grading them for personal reasons? He writes like a seasoned lover, a charismatic writer. His usually lone and solemn demeanor in such a young kid is countered by the man that writes such great literature for his term papers. Maybe I hide his boyishly scrawled lined paper under my bed like dirty magazines, but who the devil cares or knows? Is it such a crime for a woman whose major was in literature, to admire a younger boy's work?

I have poetry reading in class or essay-reading and I select him to stand up in front of the class and read aloud for the class. I didn't even know I was 'dreamily' staring at him, slouched forward with my chin in my hands like a 'horny school girl' on my desk at him, until a thought popped me out of my reverie and I could hear Jubilee's current thoughts as well as Bobby's. Can they blame me? When he stands there in all his glory, reading aloud with that manly and yet naïve voice that is going to sound deep soon, about love sonnets?

They all seem to be catching on and I feel so judged in the mansion now, whereas before I was respected and considered boring to them, school marmish. Logan judges me a lot now, he teases and laughs, but I pick up on the jealous thoughts from him when regarding the kid he is supposed to not feel intimidated by. The kid I am not supposed to feel that way about either.

I can't help it; I can't help the way he makes me feel. I love the way he walks up to my desk like a man on a mission, to politely turn in an assignment or to make small talk, humoring me as the grown up. Sometimes in the middle of a leisurely class session, the younger girls will drag him into a petty debate or conversation to tease him and include him. Sometimes they bring him up the front as a witness and consult me for my opinion on gossip or anything else concerning their youth.

I never thought I would want to be like that again, to be one of those young giggling girls again. As they giggle over him, predictably touching him here and there with flirtatious gestures, I never thought I would want to go back to a time of absolute transparent stupidity again, but how I wish I could. Then, at least it would be legal for me to be able to touch him, and give him those suggestive looks without him thinking of me as a freak. Yet he is so oblivious to the attention and flirting, and goes along with it in oblivion.

Ororo even had to confront me about this, and we talk about my growing problem and obsession in the class room. They have become quite close to, as he is the only one who volunteered to take her botany course on weekends as extra credit. When I heard this, my immediate instinct was hurt pride and hidden jealousy but then I just had to be a good friend to Storm and offer my assistance in her class, witnessing how manly Scott can be around plants without meaning to. Whoever thought a young boy pulling out weeds and holding flowers could make it appear so rugged and sexy? Oh gosh, stop it brain, shut up Jean.

For such a quiet and indifferent kid, he causes quite a stir about him. I see him along the mansion's parts or in the class, getting back thumped by the boys who look up to him as a master of athletics and other boyish interests. The girls give him looks and talk about him nonstop as if he is the heartthrob of this place, even with so many good genes in mutants running around. Teachers love him, he is studious, smart, and serious.

I am wistful like a young girl again, wistful for some time to get to know him personally, be able to dig into his thoughts. Nobody has ever intrigued me so much before, maybe it's just a forbidden law of nature thing. Ororo gets to have a mentor relationship with him, he looks up to her as an advice-giver and expert on plants. Me? Who knows if he even sees me as anything else other than his English teacher, teammate on the battle field, and trainer? For such a young age, he is already striving. He is the new leader of the X-Men now, and has proven himself worthy of the position. Logan is not too pleased, which he blames on his insistence that he is protective of the kid, and does not want to put him in such a position.

Did I even mention how suffocating and tight my suit becomes when this gorgeous young boy saunters out of the locker rooms in his tight, defining uniform? This is torture and it is dangerous for someone to be as good-looking as he is. He does not notice the effect he has on women or girls, typically, and that is the best part. Perhaps this is what plays to my yearnings and fancies.

My favorite is when he plays pick up games of basket ball or some other sport in the courts with the boys, and they like to play shirtless. That body is like a Greek God's and there are so many things I want to do to it that would be considered rape.

Yesterday, we got a new addition to our staff and team. Surprisingly, she is another telepath like me and the Professor. She is a well-bred and rather prominent Elitist from Boston. She is several years younger than me, but her credentials are extraordinary. She is prestigious, shrewd, and worth many figures in the enterprising world. I expected someone more strict and business-like, but instead, I get stuck with guiding the playmate-looking mutant around the mansion whose pretentious and snooty air seems to drive away all females. I didn't mind that her only response to other people was a blank stare of condescending blue eyes and a crude smirk, until she happened to set her blue eyes on HIM.

Really? Is this happening? Is he not some exclusive and undiscovered secret that only I cherish? That was probably the first regard I had gotten from her since we met when she asked slyly, "Who, by Jove, is that fine young gentleman in the red sunglasses?" I backtracked and tried to respond without sounding suspicious and impure.

Afterwards, she ignored me more or less and struts over to him while the poor boy was busy trying to set up his new play station game system for him and Bobby's enjoyment. Never mind that he is a pretty boy who one should not even regard in that manner, for Emma Frost apparently has no propriety with rules anywhere, even if she is the holder of these rules as a teacher here.

I had to laugh as he cluelessly stared up at this stranger of a young woman, wearing a very form-fitting white garment. My glee did not last for long though, as usually mild-mannered and shy Scott stood up and offered to help her around the mansion, completely abandoning his cherished game.

As I get to know my co-worker, it is evident that she may be the type to just toy with other guys' feelings, and perhaps her flirtation with Scott is just a mindless whim that she doesn't even think of much. How wrong this assumption would prove to be…

What probably tore my heart even more though, was how nice he was being to her, nicer than his usually indifferent manner, and how boyish he seemed as he juvenilely courted this obviously older woman by goofing off and using adolescent boy antics of friendly flirting and naïve questions that seemed to flatter her and amuse her to no end. Those rich peals of laughter soon became infamous as only meant for Scott to hear, as nobody else ever saw her laugh like that.

Forget that I had recently heard rumors and gossip while admittedly eavesdropping in on students' chatter in their heads and out loud; that the stony faced Scott Summers had asked Kitty Pryde out after a while of math tutoring and class time bonding. I should have been more watchful of the younger girl who was rather adorable.

This young boy whom I had taught, never once gave an inkling of his more playful disposition, no matter how much we urged him to be like a kid. He took his role and responsibility as the youngest field leader very seriously and did not act like boys his age did. Now he was as playful as a puppy when Emma Frost wanted him to be playful. Other onlookers would have said it was cute of him and her, but I knew the truth and that her intentions were far from cute and that it was actually very sick.

A grown woman cannot look at a young boy so intensely like that, talk to him like that or treat him like that. She cannot just thrust her bust into him whenever she thought he needed help in class. Can she? What was the difference between her and me? A few years yes, her being at the advantage of 21 and me being 26 but still, if it's not okay for me to think that way about him, it shouldn't be for her either, to this 17 year old boy.

It's just not fair sometimes.

A.N.: Reviews will be greatly appreciated and accounted for. :o)