The park was quiet except for the sound of their breathing and the occasional hiss as the car's engine cooled down.

But Jean's mind, her heartbeat, those were deafening.

She slowly reclined her seat so that it matched the angle of Betsy's, looking straight ahead the whole time, trying to calm her breathing.

"So…what did you want to do now that you've got me in your car?" Betsy said beside her, in that low and seductive voice Jean couldn't get enough of now that she'd heard it in real life.

Look up. Jean sent the thought her way, and she heard Betsy's intake of breath as for the first time, she saw the stars.

"I was driving out here, thinking about seeing you, and the further I got from the city lights the more beautiful the stars were, and I thought we could put the convertible to good use," Jean rambled, a little nervously. She giggled when she caught Betsy's reflexive thought about putting the convertible to even better use.

KSSH! The sound of glass breaking had Jean sitting up in a panic, whirling around as she scanned the area for another consciousness, the source of the threat.

Relax, kid, that was me. Betsy reached over and took Jean's hand, twining them together on the console. Jean looked at her, confused, her heart still racing. Betsy nodded toward the streetlamp. "I thought it would help us see the stars better," she said. "Sorry I scared you – I would have used my deluminator, but this outfit doesn't have any pockets, so."

Jean smiled at the Harry Potter reference. "Come on, lie back down," Betsy urged her gently.

"No one's ever broken a streetlamp with the power of their mind for me on a first date," Jean said as she relaxed back into her chair.

"That would be an oddly specific first date quirk," Betsy said.

They were quiet for a minute, enjoying the starlight and the feel of their fingers intertwined. "You were right," said Jean. "It's way better without the streetlight." She turned her head to look at Betsy. "And I can still see you just fine."

Betsy kept looking up at the stars, so Jean took the opportunity to study her. They just lay there, Betsy watching the stars and Jean watching her, until finally Betsy said "You wanna take a picture?"

Jean blushed a little. "I…you look different in real life. Almost the same, but somehow…more."

"Well, we've already established that you're even more of a giant in real life." Jean rolled her eyes at that. Try harder, she thought.

Betsy sighed and turned her head so they were both lying back in their seats, looking at one another. She stroked her thumb lightly over the back of Jean's hand in light circles.

I've never seen you with your hair in a ponytail, Betsy began. It looks good on you. But – I want to see you with it down sometime, because it's a richer color out here than it was on the astral plane. I can tell, even by starlight.

"What else?" Jean whispered. She could feel her heartbeat picking back up again, along with that incessant throb of desire that Betsy always ignited in her. She knew her shields were down, and that Betsy could feel everything she was feeling, and she didn't care.

Betsy swallowed hard, working up the courage to speak out loud. "Your skin is warmer here, softer, more real. Your smell…god, I couldn't even have imagined it. You smell amazing." Then she flashed her usual wicked grin and said, "I can't stop wondering how you'd taste."

Jean bit back a groan at that, and Betsy said, "You know I can hear everything you think, feel everything you feel. You don't have to hold back for me."

"Shut up and come over here," Jean growled.

Betsy's eyes widened in surprise, then darkened with desire, and in an instant she was on top of Jean. She straddled her in the leaned-back chair and propped her hands on either side of Jean's shoulders.

I'm going to kiss you now.

I know.

And Betsy leaned closer, tantalizingly slowly, driving both of them mad with want until Jean surged up and met her halfway.

When their lips met for the first time, Jean actually felt faint. Betsy's lips were incredibly soft, softer than they'd ever felt on the astral plane. She was right – everything was softer, warmer here.

Jean eased herself back down, Betsy followed, and they stayed just like that for a few minutes, exploring, savoring, caressing with just their lips. Betsy took Jean's lower lip in her mouth and gently sucked on it. She murmured against Jean's mouth, "You taste even better than you smell," and that raspy voice combined with what she was doing with her mouth drove Jean crazy. She wanted more, so much more. Her hands were resting on Betsy's hips, and she skimmed her palms lower, feeling the warmth of Betsy's naked thighs, while at the same time trying to deepen the kiss.

Betsy was still propped up on her arms, but when she felt the hot lick of Jean's tongue against her mouth, she moaned and pressed her body downward.

And that's when they discovered that as hot as they both looked in their bodysuits, there was one drawback: when the suits rubbed together, it sounded horrible.

They both burst out laughing and their mouths broke apart. Betsy buried her face in Jean's neck, shaking with laughter. "Okay," she gasped, getting control of herself, "Our suits are a problem, and I can think of two possible solutions here. One of them, I think you might not be ready for–" and she gave Jean a quick glimpse of what she was thinking, and holy hell if that was what was in store then sign Jean Grey right up – "and the other is that I hop back to my own chair, we talk until you need to leave, and next time we dress more appropriately." She pressed one last kiss to Jean's lips and then nimbly got back into her own chair.

Jean's body went cold at the loss. She turned on her side to face her, and Betsy did the same. They reached for each other's hand at the same moment.

"Tell me about yourself," Jean murmured.

And Betsy did. She told Jean about her brother, about the feelings she went through as her powers developed, about the stagnation that motivated her to go with En Sabah Nur, about the self-doubt she felt about having chosen the wrong side.

Then Jean told her about her fear that no one trusts a psychic, her even bigger fear that she couldn't trust herself not to influence others, that she couldn't get close to anyone, that the darkness at the edges would one day collapse in on itself and then she didn't know what she would become.

They talked and talked until the sky grew incrementally lighter and they both knew it was time to part.

Jean sighed and put her chair back upright. Betsy did the same, and then she got out and came around to Jean's side. Jean climbed out too. She ran her fingers through Betsy's hair, and Betsy leaned into her touch.

"Do you have far to drive?" Jean said quietly. Betsy shook her head. "I have a place not too far from here. My bike is parked in the trees back there, it's only like a 15-minute ride."

"Wait – your bike? You ride a motorcycle?" the redhead exclaimed. "Jesus, just when I thought you couldn't get any hotter."

Betsy actually blushed at that, and Jean leaned down to kiss her on the nose. "Your freckles are really cute," she whispered, not pulling her face away. Betsy stood on her tiptoes and pulled Jean's face down into one last searing kiss. Don't call me cute, she warned, and she felt Jean's answering smile.

"Okay, I should really get back," Jean sighed. She held on to Betsy's hand for another moment, and then let it go.

And as she drove away, she heard Betsy in her mind. Same time tomorrow, Red?

Yes. God, yes. And don't forget to wear something more comfortable. She heard Betsy's answering chuckle and smiled as she turned onto the road toward school.