Joe's Note: Given that I'm a consummate Emma/Jean 'shipper, this was the first portion of the story that I outlined as soon as I shifted to the present concept, before I even finished picking who the other women involved would be. Like, I had this entire thing written in my head a week or two ago and was just waiting for the opening to be written so I could get at this.
Dedications & Thanks: To Nicholas, Alexander, Thomas, Koby, Wil, Tracy, Christopher, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on , and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.
May 16, 1995
"While I dare say that I could find out for myself even with your impressive mental defenses, I suppose it would be considered polite to actually ask you what you think of the facilities so far?"
Personally, Emma was of the opinion that her mental defenses might put up more of a fight than Charles Xavier thought… but there was no sense in arguing over the matter, she quickly decided. Especially since doing so might be seen as an invitation, and she was in no real hurry to find out she was wrong. "Are you fishing for compliments when it comes to your ancestors' taste in decorations, Charles, or my thoughts on the building's suitability as an academic facility?"
Xavier offered a Gallic shrug at her question, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his wheelchair. "Either, really. Given that you'll likely find yourself living on-site the way I have these past few years, I imagine the former is more important than one would initially think."
Touché. And a fairly safe assumption as well, given that it was roughly an hour's drive in each direction between where Emma currently lived and Xavier's. To say nothing of the fact that her initial plans centered around the Berkshires being the home for her theoretical school because she wanted a change of scenery anyway. And… wait a second. Now that Emma thought about it, she'd never so much as typed out her plans for the Academy of Tomorrow; they existed solely on a pad of paper in her apartment. Her two visits to Monroe, Massachusetts had been via friends of coworkers whom she'd 'convinced' to give her rides. And yet Xavier knew of her plans and had reached out to her because of them. That answered the question of whether or not her shields could keep him out, now didn't it?
Doing her best to push that particular revelation from her mind, Emma paused and peered into another of the classrooms lining the double-loaded corridor that ran the full length of the mansion's ground floor. Spacious, modern, well-equipped, and most of them would be staffed through the turn of the millennia thanks to outstanding contracts between Xavier and his existing teachers. Almost everything a girl could ask for. 'Almost' because Emma wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the large man with blue fur who was perched on the corner of his desk as he read Shakespeare to his students, along with a few other small gripes. "The building itself is impressive; while I'll need to expand it in the future if all goes well, I can see myself maintaining the current aesthetic. Not a terribly big fan of this much polished wood all in one place, but I'll likely leave it alone save from any renovations I make to my own quarters. And the staff you've hired is… mostly satisfactory. I'd like to talk to Mister McCoy about some of his mannerisms; I'm reserving judgement until after I see how deeply his mutation runs. And the fact that Mister Summers can't seem to locate my face promises to make staff meetings tedious at best."
As Scott Summers began sputtering indignantly from his spot behind the man, Xavier raised one hand to forestall any reply as he gathered his thoughts. When he finally spoke, Emma had to admit that she was impressed by his way of handling the matter. "If you're expecting some sort of condemnation because of how confident - and therefore free - you are with your body, you'll be sorely disappointed. While I wouldn't make the same choices you have if our roles were reversed, Emma, you're free to dress yourself as you see fit, as is every other person on this planet. That being said? As a telepath, I've found that I need to regularly remind myself that we do not live in a Philip Dick short. Tempting as it may be some times, we can't punish the people around us for their thoughts alone. Unless Scott crosses the line from thought into action…"
Emma scrunched up her nose in displeasure before she peering down at herself. She wasn't even dressed all that outrageously today: a white leather bustier paired with matching shorts and a pair of knee-high boots with four inch heels. Then again, she conceded, working as a stripper - err, exotic dancer - had probably skewed her idea of what was and wasn't provocative attire. Even then… "Isn't clinging to flatscan morality a bit of a specious argument in this case, Charles? You're right: if not for my powers, I wouldn't know he was doing what he is and would be unable to get upset. On the other hand, if not for my powers, I wouldn't be here and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Do you intend then to take each and every one of your adolescent male students to task for where their hormone-fueled minds might wander?"
"How positively heteronormative of you, Charles. What about the female students who admire my figure in a sexual way?"
"Point. My question remains, though."
"Do you really want to compare your protégé to a teenage boy when it comes to maturity and self-control?"
"I'm simply saying that-"
"I'm standing right here, you know." Huffing loudly, Scott let his hands drop back onto the push handles of Xavier's wheelchair, fingers curling around them as he began pushing the man down the hallway once more. "Not all of us are telepaths with shields to keep our own thoughts in and others' thoughts out, you know. And most of the telepaths I've met are polite enough to not mention it if they pick up on any stray thoughts…"
Emma stared after them for a moment before chuckling and giving chase, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors as she struggled to catch up. "Whoever told you that I was polite lied, Mister Summers." But that would be quite enough of that, she decided; she would have plenty of time to bring Scott - and the rest of her inherited employees - up to her lofty standards if she took over the school. "Now, Charles, I believe you mentioned some… additional facilities… beneath the school that might be of interest to me?"
December 23, 2014
"Wait, hang on, I think I found a plot hole in this story." Visibly confused, Amaranth looked from Emma around at all her sisters in hopes of support before turning back to her mother. "If you were working as a stripper, how did you afford-"
Emma didn't even wait for her daughter to finish before rolling her eyes and cutting the girl off; contrary to popular belief, there were indeed stupid questions and that was definitely one. "My college tuition, books, and other expenses? Because that's all I used the money from the Hellfire Club to pay for. Well, that and certain work-related expenses. Clothes, shoes, lingerie. Body glitter. Just because I wanted to pay my own way through college doesn't mean I'm a complete idiot. Of course I took advantage of the family's resources for certain purchases. Like this school."
Flopping back against the couch, Amaranth frowned. "Oh. Well then that makes sense. Continue."
"Ever so glad to have your permission, daughter dearest. Now, as I was saying…"
May 16, 1995
As the trio came to a stop at what appeared to be a dead end, Charles reached up and pressed his hand against one segment of the wall in particular. There was a soft hum, a flash of light, and then a segment of wall slid out of the way to reveal an elevator. "As you very well know, my original group of students - your future employees - are the X-Men. To be honest, part of why I reached out to you after discovering your plans for the Academy of Tomorrow is that I'm hoping you will continue both halves of my legacy. They haven't been received as well as I'd hoped; perhaps with your superior grasp of public relations and marketing…" Trailing off, Xavier allowed Scott to roll his chair into the elevator and waited for Emma to slip in beside them before pushing the button for the lowest level. "A topic for when we sit down to work out fine details, perhaps? At any rate, the mansion's subbasements house a variety of things that they need but that I felt the parents of prospective students might react badly to seeing. The Blackbird, our more extensive on-site medical facilities, the brig we use to contain more troublesome mutants until they can be either rehabilitated or transferred into SHIELD custody, the-"
"Those aren't what either of us is referring to, and we both know it." The elevator door slid open and Emma stepped out into a sleek metal hallway, looking around curiously. Given that each door was clearly marked in six languages - and Braille to boot - it wasn't terribly difficult for the blonde to make her own way to her destination. And she didn't even need to wait for Xavier and Scott to catch up and disable whatever security measures would normally protect it because the doors were already open. Today really was her lucky day, it seemed. Stepping through the doorway, Emma looked around in wonder as she slowly made her way down the catwalk that jutted out into the middle of the spherical metal room. "So, this is Cerebro. The vaunted mutant-detecting machine. I was expecting something… no, actually, I'm lying. This is magnificent."
A tinkling laugh brought Emma's inspection of Cerebro to an abrupt end, and it was a true testament to the magnificence of Xavier's creation that she hadn't noticed the room's other occupant before that point. Especially given that said other occupant was bent over a console of some kind, causing what looked to be an already short green skirt to ride up even further along her pale thighs. Straightening up, a young woman Emma's own age with fiery red hair and bright green eyes smiled as she looked Emma up and down slowly. "I know, right? I still can't get over it, and I've been using it for six years now." A circuit board wobbled up off the floor before zipping through the air into the woman's hand, and then she was diving back over the console to continue her work. "Oh, introductions! Because I'm civilized, I swear. I'm Jean Grey, and I'm guessing that you're my new drift partner?"
Taking Jean's entirely unsubtle inspection of her body as consent to return the favor, Emma allowed herself to focus directly on the redhead's ass, licking her lips as the woman's hips shifted from side to side as she worked. Then Jean's words penetrated, and Emma's brow furrowed in confusion. "Emma Frost. And I'm your what?"
"We've been visited by a few time travelers, and one of them had a computer full of movies and music from the future. I ended up tearing my way through most of the sci-fi over the course of a long weekend." Finishing what she was doing, Jean straightened back up and turned to face Emma before groaning and rubbing the small of her back. "So seventeen years from now… well, it won't be relevant to us anymore, but at least you'll get that joke. To make a long story short? The Professor is essentially a perfect storm when it comes to using Cerebro: a massive amount of power, and incredible control over it. Based on Cerebro's readings? You have incredible control but even when we look at just our generation, you're only the third most powerful telepath. Me, on the other hand? I'm technically more powerful than even Xavier, but when it comes to control…" Trailing off, Jean smiled sheepishly as she gestured to the pile of burnt electronics that were scattered about the floor. "Yeah. So once Cerebro is yours, you have two choices: you can use it on your own with… I'd guess about a quarter to a third of the range Xavier gets, or we can work together to use it and probably accidentally discover life on Mars or something."
Again, Emma found herself inclined to argue about her abilities… before realizing three very important things. One: having never met Jean before in her life, she had no idea how strong the redhead's powers were. For all Emma knew, Jean could chat telepathically with astronauts or something. Two: she'd discovered today that she was wrong about how her powers compared to Charles's, so clearly she wasn't the best at meaningful self-appraisal. And three: Jean was gorgeous, and getting into arguments with gorgeous women generally wasn't conducive to convincing them to date her. Spending some quality time linking minds with them, on the other hand… "So how would this work? You lighten your hair a bit, I tint mine redder, we get matching outfits and then bump fists while declaring-"
"Wonder Twin Powers Activate? Not exactly. I wouldn't say no to you buying us some matching outfits, though." Jean's eyes roamed over Emma again, and then she blushed faintly. "Or maybe coordinated outfits? I'm not sure I could fill something like that out the way you do."
Emma glanced down at her chest as she brought one hand up, running her fingers over the upper slope of her right breast. "They are magnificent, aren't they?" Grinning at the embarrassed squeak Jean emitted, Emma let her gaze drift forward a bit to the redhead's own chest, comparing their gifts. "Yours are nothing to be ashamed of, though, and you do have me beat when it comes to other ass-ets." Meeting Jean's eyes, Emma noticed that the woman's skin was rapidly approaching the same color as her hair and decided to take pity on her… at least for now. After all, if she did buy the school - which was looking like more and more of a sure thing with each passing moment - she'd have years to flirt with Jean. "I'd ask for a demonstration of your whole 'drifting' idea, but I don't think either of us should be in the other's mind at the moment."
Nodding fervently, Jean gestured back over Emma's shoulder. "Plus, aren't you supposed to be getting a tour from the Professor right now?" Emma debated that one internally for a few seconds before deciding to concede the point; technically, they'd been coming down to the second subbasement to see Cerebro and here she was. But again, as fun as flirting and teasing was, there was no need to rush things. And so Emma graced the redhead with a nod of her own before turning and walking back along the catwalk toward the open door, making sure to add a bit of extra sway to her hips along the way. After a mere four steps, though, Emma was treated to a firsthand example of Jean's lack of telepathic control. 'I would hit that like Mjölnir.'
December 23, 2014
"Mom actually said-"
"Mom most certainly did not." Perching on the arm of Emma's chair, Jean Grey let out a faint scoff as she swatted the side of Emma's head gently, before bringing her hand back in and gently scratching her nails against the soft blond fuzz of Emma's undercut. "Mom thought that she wanted to bang your mother like a screen door in a hurricane. Because Thor hadn't arrived on Earth at that point, and so there's no way she could have possibly made a joke involving Mjölnir."
"Oh my God, that's even worse!"
May 16, 1995
'I would bang that like a screen door in a hurricane.'
Skidding to a stop, Emma threw her head back and laughed loudly before peering back over her shoulder at the mortified Jean. "Is that right?"
Before Jean could do anything more than let out a soft whimper of embarrassment, Scott decided to contribute his two cents from where he stood with Xavier in the doorway. "Oh, so Jean can have those kinds of thoughts about you - and share them with everyone - and it's perfectly acceptable?"
Emma turned her attention to Scott, making the man squirm uncomfortably as her icy blue gaze bored into his visor. "Well yes. She is a woman, after all."
"That's sexist."
"Possibly. Or being a lesbian. I mean, if you were Samantha Summers, I might find you a bit less offensive. Your brother's girlfriend, for instance, was only a hair more discreet than you and I don't feel the urge to turn her brain into tapioca." Emma pondered that for a moment before shaking her head. "Probably not, though, after what I saw while poking around inside your head." Making her way down the remainder of the catwalk, she peered down at Xavier and jerked a thumb back over her shoulder. "She's one of the teachers contracted past the end of this school year, right?"
"Yes."
"In that case, let's head back up to your office so we can discuss the future of Xavier's Academy of Tomorrow."
December 23, 2014
"I closed on the school two weeks later, and took Jean out to dinner that night to celebrate. It took a few more dates to wear down her resistance, but finally she invited me back to her room and since I was still in my bi phase? I ate her ass like a sandwich."
Having timed the final line perfectly, Emma was treated to Laura spraying her drink across the room in a fine mist. Rachel groaned, reaching up to pat her girlfriend on the back as she glared at her mother. "The problem with you saying stuff like that is that while on one hand it could be true, it could also just be you making a reference to something on Tumblr. Door number one is really, really gross. Door number two is scary as hell because I know what's on my own Tumblr."
Emma shuddered faintly at that. While she liked to think of herself as an incredibly cool, progressive, and permissive mother - just like her wives - there was a significant difference between acknowledging and approving of healthy behaviors, and coming to face-to-face with visual evidence of them. "It's the second, dear. And speaking of your Tumblr, you really shouldn't be posting pictures like that of yourself online. The same goes for your strange obsession with preserving the marks you leave on Laura for posterity."
"…fuck."
"Oh, you definitely shouldn't post pictures of that. Have you? Because if I'm going to be getting a visit from the police, I'd like some warning…"
"Oh my God, Mother, no!"
"Just checking. I mean, when I was your age…"
