A/N: Hello again Hi Guest! Thanks for your lengthy review! I don't mind it at all; in fact, I really appreciate it, along with your constructive criticisms. It made me reflect a lot on those aspects on my writing, haha. I'll keep 'em in mind! And yes, to clarify, the "social life" being referred to in the previous chapter are his experiences as a high school student, prior the events in DOFP. I'd like to believe too that apart from his mother's influence, another major factor that actually led to Peter graduating in this alternate timeline (or in this story anyway) was the shift in society's views on mutants after Mystique's act, making the social environment in school more tolerable for him. In the original timeline, my headcanon is he probably dropped out of school after all the ostracizing. As for Peter's little drinking abstinence, you do bring out lots of good points! He really had reasons to be happy as well, but he had to be the adult in that situation too, hehe. And to answer your question, I don't have a beta reader; it's all self-edited, haha. It's a rather headache-inducing task though it's something I kinda enjoy too, strangely.

For AmeliaDarkholme, I'm sorry for being a major tease, haha! Thank you always for all your support, my dear!

Also, hello octoberfangirl! Your comment made me blush, hehe! I'm so happy you enjoyed it. Maybe when this project is over I'm gonna write that particular scene. I'm a huge sucker for both Peter and Dadneto.

Again thank you for all the comments (gracedreamcloud and LilyAnneBlack)! We're nearing the epilogue but I hope you enjoy the rest of the chapters. :)


Given her mind powers, Jean possessed the uncanny ability to remember most of her dreams. Sometimes, it could be a good thing, especially if they were about pleasant things which made her mood equally pleasant as soon as she woke up. However, it was also a double-edged sword since it meant remembering even the bad ones which never failed to make her quiver in fear the moment she opened her eyes. Fortunately for her, the professor was more than willing to help her out, and the night terrors lessened significantly after the incident in Cairo.

Nevertheless, the tricky part about vividly recalling her dreams was that she could confuse them with things that actually happened with real life. They weren't just the images and sounds, because all her senses were involved — she could still feel the burning sensation of the flames, the smell of soot, the bitter taste of blood on her lips in one of her recurrent, eerie dreams. To prevent this, the professor taught her a technique which helped extinguish her anxieties: as soon as she woke up and reoriented herself to reality, she would create a psychic block in her head that would either separate the memory of the dream to her actual memories, or if they were bothering her enough, minimize them until her brain cells would make her forget the natural way. She was cautious in performing the latter technique however, especially after knowing her night terrors could sometimes actually be visions, but she made sure to consult the professor when they were alarming enough.

There were situations, however, when Jean tried to make sense of her dreams by herself.

She remembered the place clearly, since they were in the very same room she woke up in, in the very same bed. It was dark, but she was sure it was him; the shining silver hair left her with no doubts. They spoke about things she couldn't recall, yet if there was one thing she couldn't forget, it was the way their foreheads touched.

But was that even a dream?

Because the moment she woke up, ready to block away the splitting headache from her hangover and to do a reality check, she saw a familiar pair of goggles loosely hanging around her arm. Peter did not confirm nor deny anything when she returned it to him that same day, though when she asked why she had it in the first place, he simply said that she took it from him when he brought her back to her room. She could recall almost everything that occurred in the party, yet the events from time she got transferred from the sub-basement up to her room were rather blurry in her head. She was hoping to get something out of Peter but he was conspicuously quiet about the whole thing, evading the whole matter by telling her the party events were much more momentous.

She figured she should just believe him, but if her supposed dream and Peter's evident silence on the whole matter had some sort of effect on her, it was making her fall for him even deeper, and she was not sure what to make of it.

She made a mental note to be careful about her alcohol intake next time.

Speaking of dreams, though in a different definition altogether, Jean was on the way to achieving one of them, since she had officially started attending college. With her powers, a psychology degree was probably the most appropriate course to take. In some way, she also hoped to help out the professor with his dissertations on mutants by knowing how each of their minds worked.

She had been adjusting fairly well to Metro College. The first few days were filled with both anxiety and excitement since the overall atmosphere was a big change compared to her stay in the Xavier mansion, which was pretty much close to being home for her. So far, she was getting along with her classmates too, though she didn't know if all the pleasantries were real or simply a facade; she was keeping a conscious effort to block out their thoughts and she wanted to keep in that way.

She hadn't been using her powers much since she started school to be exact. It wasn't just because of the professor's reminders not to flaunt their powers in public; of course, she too wanted to protect the positive image that the mutants were having so far. She didn't simply because she did not find any reason to. Listening to lectures and jotting down notes did not exactly pose any need for either telepathy or telekinesis.

That was during normal school days though, and not considering the other external factors.

Classes ended for the day, meaning it was time for her to go home. Jean stood by the entrance of the university as she watched the outpour of rain in front of her. It was one of the moments where she wished she could exchange powers with her fellow mutants, like Ororo, for instance. Her ability to control the weather would be pretty handy right then and there; or Kurt's too, like she could already teleport back to the mansion in a blink without worrying about soaked clothes.

The choice of using her own powers to prevent the raindrops from touching her was always there, but lots of students from the university were pouring out just as the skies were. If she wanted to maintain the low profile image she had been building, she'd have to wait until they were gone or else all the efforts were for naught. Charging into the rain was also an option but she didn't want to risk it; her bag wasn't waterproof and she didn't want to leave her notes drenched. The bus stop was two blocks away too. Why couldn't she have listened to the weather report and brought an umbrella like a normal person?

Jean groaned, opting to sit by the staircase as she waited for the rain to pass. She glanced at her watch and realized she could be late for their Danger Room training if it didn't stop any time soon. She knew Mystique wouldn't mind, or at the very least Professor Xavier would understand, but punctuality was something that Jean practiced often. Sighing, she ended up passing her time by making a few raindrops on the concrete dance with her fingertips, using her powers in a discreet manner. She whirled her finger to make a single drop revolve around the others, and for a brief moment, she felt her cheeks flush since it reminded her of Peter and his speedy antics. Shaking her head, she continued playing around until a sudden gust of wind interrupted her routine completely.

"Yo, thought I'd find you here."

Instinctively she reached a hand towards her chest because Peter was suddenly in front of her, waving a hand while holding an umbrella with the other.

"Peter?" she remarked with disbelief, her heart beating rapidly from his unexpected appearance, "What are you doing here?"

"I learned your college was just blocks away from mine so I figured I could pass by."

Blocks away? That was a total understatement since she knew his college was at the other side of the city. Then again, this was Mister Quicksilver she was talking about.

"Why are you so drenched if you have an umbrella, though?" she asked as they waited for the bus to arrive under the shed.

He looked at her with wide eyes, as if he had been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

Somehow, she made him admit that he actually charged into the rain while in super speed, and he just happened to pass by her college and saw her, which made him decide to look for an umbrella, since obviously, she needed one, and share the said umbrella with her.

She scolded him though, since that was a rather reckless move, given the heavy downpour. He could even get sick!

He responded that she had nothing to worry about, since he was way faster than germs anyway.

He had a cold the next day.

"I told you so," she told him, as she handed him a bowl of hot soup. He simply pouted before sipping from it.

She didn't voice it out, yet, she was very touched by his gesture — thankful for her impromptu, modern day knight in shining leather jacket.

She thought it was a one time thing only, but during Fridays, Peter had been present at his usual spot, waiting for her to come out from the lobby, and he accompanied her in riding the bus all the way to the long walks going back to the Xavier estate. Occasionally, he'd come during Tuesdays too, whenever his classes were dismissed early. Jean never questioned it; after all, it was nice to be accompanied by someone on the way home, conversing about things that both of them were going through, being in college. Soon, she realized that she greatly looked forward to meeting him every after dismissal.

"I've noticed something," she decided to tell him one Tuesday, "How come I never see you using your powers as often as before? I mean, I get that you wouldn't use it when it rains, but today and the other days have been sunny. Why not just travel in super speed?"

"I only use it when it's necessary." As if fate was playing with her, Jean didn't notice a crack among the cemented walks and almost tripped, if it hadn't been for Peter who caught her just in time. "See?"

Uttering a startled 'thanks,' Jean paused from walking, still rather unconvinced with explanation, causing Peter to also cease from his tracks.

"Okay," she said, tapping a finger under her chin, "Considering the distance of my college to the mansion, isn't it more practical for you to use it instead of commuting and walking?"

Peter exhaled deeply. "You hate it when we go super speed, so why would I force you to do it with me?"

"Well, I didn't actually tell you to wait for me."

It came out not the way she intended it, but she only realized upon seeing the hurt on his face.

"Oh, okay," His voice betrayed the straight face he was trying to maintain. 'You . . . could've just told me that straight out, you know, like you shouldn't be wasting your time with me and, yep, okay, got it."

And he stormed off, talking quick, large strides as he walked ahead of her without looking back.

It took a lot longer for her than she would've liked to process what had happened.

"W-wait, no, Peter," she stammered, going after him, "That wasn't what I meant."

She wanted to tell him it was something that she really appreciated, something that she eagerly looked forward to after school.

But he was fast, too fast, even when he wasn't using super speed. She was certain he wasn't, because if he did, he would've been gone already. Jean suddenly felt she was in marathon she couldn't win.

"Peter!" She ran as much as her legs could. "Peter. . . Pietro Maximoff, I said, 'wait!'"

Channeling her powers, she extended an arm as if to reach him, which effectively caused him to a full stop.

She was panting hard as she approached him; she never really excelled in all physical aspects of training.

His back was facing her when she released her telekinetic hold on him.

"I'm sorry, but you left me with no choice. Please, listen."

He raised both of his arms in surrender, yet still refusing to face her. "Alright, I'm listening."

"I . . ."

Everything she wanted to say earlier had mysteriously disappeared, and she was left with no words. Her eyes were staring blankly downwards, a blurry image of the gray asphalt and his silver shoes filling her line of vision.

"It's just, I don't understand it. I admit your super speed trips are very stomach-quenching for me but it's something I can tolerate especially knowing how taxing this slow-moving world is for you. You . . . you don't have to do this just for me."

She watched as he shifted his feet to face her. Placing a hand under her chin, he tilted it up so she was looking at him. His thumb wiped the single tear that trailed down her cheeks.

"You know, now I'm absolutely convinced that you really can't read my mind."

A warm feeling enveloped her chest as his forehead touched hers, just like in the dream.

"You really wanna know the reason?" he said, and when she began to open her mouth to say something, he simply pressed a finger against her lip. The gesture was strangely familiar. "I realize that not everything has to be about my powers, and that there are things I could appreciate more when I'm not in super speed. Thank you for teaching me to slow down and for helping me realize how beautiful the world actually is."

The prolonged contact of their heads made her aware of certain things: up close, he smelt of mint and pastries, their hearts were in sync with each other, and the dream wasn't a dream after all.

"You're welcome," she said, placing her hand over his.

Soon they were walking alongside each other again, their hands brushing against each other as they did. Peter was scratching his cheek like something was bothering him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, eyeing him closely.

"I wanna say sorry too. That was childish of me, running off all of the sudden." His tone was rather bashful, causing her to grin.

"It's nothing. At least I had the opportunity to see that other side of you," she teased, which made him more embarrassed.

"Never knew that mushy side of me existed too. Like seriously though, remembering that makes me feel like some actor from those romcom movies my mom likes to watch. I must've gotten it from that, yeah."

The flustered look he was showing was a rare sight, almost adorable. Jean chuckled. "Yeah, maybe."

"But you know what, I think what really got me was the whole, "Pietro Maximoff, I said 'wait!'' he said, trying to mimic her tone, but instead of being annoyed, she found herself laughing even more, "Man, been a long time since anyone called me by my actual name. For a second there, I thought you were gonna throw me off to the nearest tree again."

"I won't let that happen again," Jean said, and they were both laughing, their hands barely touching once more. This seemed to have bothered Peter, because all of the sudden, he cursed, briefly apologizing, before filling the space between her hands with his own. It surprised her, but she found herself not minding, as he told her a detailed yet quick narrative about that ridiculous substitute lecturer with a pompadour in his university.

Peter was back to his usual talkative self, which was great, because it meant everything was back to normal. But she knew, they both knew, something had change between them. It felt surreal, like she was in a dream, but glancing at their intertwined hands, feeling the warmth of his palm, sensing the subtle yet rapid beating of his pulse were enough of a reality check for her. It's real, this was real, she told herself, as they approached the gates of the estate.