Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men Evolution or anything else in this story (except the story itself). So no own - no sue.
Author's Notes: This story takes place sometime after Season 1 ends and before Season 2 begins. Oh, and you may read this story and ask Why? The simple answer is, I wanted to, the idea popped into my head and wouldn't go away, and it's something different. And I'm bored. Different doesn't necessarily mean 'bad' and hey, it's a little variety. That never hurt anyone, did it? So read it, enjoy it, review it.
Stuff in italics are thoughts. The ~~~ signifies a flashback (plus the whole passage is in italics).
Review this, if you want. Positive reviews, negative reviews, constructive criticism, all of it is openly accepted (flame me, love me, hate me, adore me).
Bleh. I'm sorry this took so long to write. It wasn't that I didn't want to write...I did, but real-life issues and an epic arm-fic kinda get in the way, you know?
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A Simple Crush
Chapter 3
Scott Summers was miserable. There was no other way to express how he felt. Utterly miserable.
Part of it was that sleep didn't help lift the burden of the night before. He wasn't sure what he'd end up doing...he could just avoid Kitty at all costs. If he ended up running into her...he could always pretend that never happened.
He slowly slunked his way out of bed, bright and early as usual, and made his way to the bathroom. He felt horrible, but not entirely because of the previous night's events. He just...felt bad; physically. Scott chalked it down to just being tired, the typical early morning grogginess.
Kicking off the shoes he had fallen asleep in, he clenched his eyes shut and took off his visor, carefully setting it on the counter. He slipped off the remainder of his clothing and went into the shower, feeling for the knobs in the wall. He sagged against the wall in relief as the warm water cascaded down his body.
He didn't bother to clean himself thoroughly. He had the placement of the soap and shampoo memorized, so his inability to see didn't matter. In fact, he merely stood and leaned against the wall until the hot water turned warm, turned lukewarm, turned cool, turned freezing. The others would be mad, but he felt too miserable to care.
Much to his disappointment, the shower didn't seem to do anything to improve how he felt.
Scott shut off the water and carefully exited the shower, and slipped his visor back on, sighing in relief when he opened his eyes. And then he swore loudly.
Grabbing a towel from the closet, he closed his eyes and pulled off the visor, wiping away the built-up condensation on the lens, caused by the hot water. He nodded as he slipped it back on, able to see again. Everything was still red, but it was vision, nonetheless.
He grunted and rubbed his temples, leaning onto the counter for balance. His head was pounding...but he shrugged it off. Scott merely attributed it to his head injury, the one that made sure that he would be chained behind red ruby quartz all his life. For a brief moment, he thought back to what Magneto had done to him and his brother...it had been amazing to have complete control over his powers, something he'd never be able to do naturally. But it had come at too high of a cost; his emotions were wiped clean, his loyalty belonging to only Magneto, the man for whom he had nearly killed his teammates, his friends for. Because he was so selfish...
Scott had vowed that from that day forward, he'd never put his wants and desires above those of others, especially those he cared for so deeply. A small part of him said that it was unfair to do that to himself, but the innate sense of leadership inside of him dictated otherwise, and he listened to that far too often.
But he hadn't the night before...
"And look at what it cost me..." he said wistfully.
Scott wiped the steam-covered mirror and stared at his own reflection. He looked surprisingly haggard.
Must not be getting enough sleep or something, he told himself.
He sneezed, and looked back at himself in shock. He surprised himself even further when he had to breathe in sharply through his nose, forcing the mucus back into his head. Scott hung his head and groaned. The source of his misery had finally dawned on him.
Great. This is just great.
The young mutant wrapped a towel tightly around his waist and gathered his old clothing, and stepped out the room...
...And right into Jean Grey.
She appeared to be heading for the bathroom, too, as was made apparent by her still wearing the oversized t-shirt she slept in, and the towel in her arms.
Normally, simply being in the same room with Jean was enough to make Scott go weak in the knees, and touching her, even if accidentally brushing up against her arm, brought him to the edge. But not this time. He had something (or someone) else on his mind, and it contributed to his waning interest in the red-haired beauty that stood before him.
"Huh? Oh. Sorry," he apologized, but his monotone said he didn't notice. Or didn't care.
Jean blushed and looked away from his bare torso, but her eyes drifted back to it, regardless. "S..Sorry," she stammered. I guess I should just w...watch where I'm going next time."
Scott mumbled something and slunk his way past her.
"Are you feeling alright?" Jean asked to his retreating back.
"I'm fine," he replied, not bothering to stop.
Scott did stop, however, when he felt something tug at his towel. He spun around and scowled at Jean. "I said I'm fine," he told her irritably.
"Don't lie to me, Scott Summers," Jean said, her tone indignant.
He grunted. "You shouldn't be going into people's heads with their permis--"
Jean smiled wickedly. "I don't need telepathy to know when you aren't telling me the truth," she said, cutting him off. Her voice then took on a motherly tone. "You don't look so well. Are you sure you're okay?"
Scott shrugged his shoulders. "It's early. What do you expect?"
In one graceful step, the red-haired mutant stepped in front of Scott and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "My...you're burning up."
"I just got out of a hot shower. What do you expect?" As if it were rehearsed, Scott sneezed. He barely remembered to cover his face with his hand so as to not sneeze in Jean's face. She would be none too appreciative for that. He inhaled through his nose, forcing the drainage from his sinuses back up into his nasal cavity.
"I guess you're right. I must have caught some of...Kitty's flu." If Jean noticed the reluctance when Scott said Kitty's name, she didn't let on.
Jean clicked her tongue between her teeth. "C'mon, we're getting you to bed." Scott protested, but the combination of being sick, and the realization that he was clad in only a towel meant he put up a very weak fight.
Jean gave him enough privacy so that he could at least put on some pants, before rushing him into bed and tending to him like a worried mother.
"Now you stay in this bed," she told him for the twentieth time, pulling the blanket over his body and up to his neck. "You stay right here, and rest. I'll go down and get you some chicken soup, okay?"
Scott could only groan. He had stopped trying to fend her off by the time she had barged into the room after he had just barely buttoned up his jeans.
I should make her stop, he muttered in his head, careful as to not project any of his thoughts. I should get up and throw her out and... He pulled the blanket closer to his body as he tried to suppress a sudden chill that he beset him. Ok...maybe she's right. Besides, if I'm in here, I don't have to worry about seeing Kitty...
*****
Calm down Kitty, just calm down... It's only a guy... A guy you've seen every day for...how long have I lived here? He's just a guy... Any old guy... A mega-hot guy who said I was cute... Oh, you're no help.
Kitty Pryde was practically dancing in place, but had to be careful for the steaming bowl of chicken soup she held in her hands. She had to practically pry it out of Jean's hands down in the kitchen...
~~~
"Scott?" Jean hid a small smile behind her hand. "He's uh...in bed...sick."
Kitty nearly choked on her orange juice from that bit of news.
Then she blushed, thinking back to the night before, with the choking, and Scott's arms wrapped around her and...
"S...sick?" she squeaked.
Jean nodded. "I think he caught a little of your flu."
Kitty's face flushed to an exact shade of Jean's hair.
Rogue chuckled low in her throat. "I guess you're feelin' better now?"
Kitty nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, but... Oh God, I like, feel so bad now! Especially after he was so nice, bringing me my dinner last night." And other things... a devilish part of her conscience said.
That won another laugh from Rogue (the part she said out loud).
"Well, I'm about to take this soup up to Scott, if you want to come with me," Jean said, gesturing to a bowl resting on the counter, heat vapors rising off the top.
Kitty bolted over and picked up the bowl. "I'll take it to him!" She quickly set it back down on the counter and blew on her hands. The bowl was very hot. "I'll take it up there. It's the least I can do, for getting him sick and all..."
Jean nodded reluctantly. "But don't stay up there too long. You wouldn't want to get sick again," she warned.
Kitty nodded and slid an oven mitt over a hand before carefully picking up the bowl and leaving the room.
~~~
Well...maybe 'pry' was too strong of a word.
Kitty felt numb, her emotions in a tangled mess. She didn't know what to think, what to say, or what to feel.
He said I was cute... But...he likes Jean, right? I mean, he just thinks I'm like, his little sister or something... But he said I was cute... What am I supposed to say to him?
She bit down on her lower lip, utter confusion wracking her body.
She took a deep breath, long and slow.
It's too late to turn back now...
Kitty reached out with an unsteady hand, balled up, and rapped her knuckles against the cold, hard wood of the door...
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Author's Notes: This story takes place sometime after Season 1 ends and before Season 2 begins. Oh, and you may read this story and ask Why? The simple answer is, I wanted to, the idea popped into my head and wouldn't go away, and it's something different. And I'm bored. Different doesn't necessarily mean 'bad' and hey, it's a little variety. That never hurt anyone, did it? So read it, enjoy it, review it.
Stuff in italics are thoughts. The ~~~ signifies a flashback (plus the whole passage is in italics).
Review this, if you want. Positive reviews, negative reviews, constructive criticism, all of it is openly accepted (flame me, love me, hate me, adore me).
Bleh. I'm sorry this took so long to write. It wasn't that I didn't want to write...I did, but real-life issues and an epic arm-fic kinda get in the way, you know?
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Scott Summers was miserable. There was no other way to express how he felt. Utterly miserable.
Part of it was that sleep didn't help lift the burden of the night before. He wasn't sure what he'd end up doing...he could just avoid Kitty at all costs. If he ended up running into her...he could always pretend that never happened.
He slowly slunked his way out of bed, bright and early as usual, and made his way to the bathroom. He felt horrible, but not entirely because of the previous night's events. He just...felt bad; physically. Scott chalked it down to just being tired, the typical early morning grogginess.
Kicking off the shoes he had fallen asleep in, he clenched his eyes shut and took off his visor, carefully setting it on the counter. He slipped off the remainder of his clothing and went into the shower, feeling for the knobs in the wall. He sagged against the wall in relief as the warm water cascaded down his body.
He didn't bother to clean himself thoroughly. He had the placement of the soap and shampoo memorized, so his inability to see didn't matter. In fact, he merely stood and leaned against the wall until the hot water turned warm, turned lukewarm, turned cool, turned freezing. The others would be mad, but he felt too miserable to care.
Much to his disappointment, the shower didn't seem to do anything to improve how he felt.
Scott shut off the water and carefully exited the shower, and slipped his visor back on, sighing in relief when he opened his eyes. And then he swore loudly.
Grabbing a towel from the closet, he closed his eyes and pulled off the visor, wiping away the built-up condensation on the lens, caused by the hot water. He nodded as he slipped it back on, able to see again. Everything was still red, but it was vision, nonetheless.
He grunted and rubbed his temples, leaning onto the counter for balance. His head was pounding...but he shrugged it off. Scott merely attributed it to his head injury, the one that made sure that he would be chained behind red ruby quartz all his life. For a brief moment, he thought back to what Magneto had done to him and his brother...it had been amazing to have complete control over his powers, something he'd never be able to do naturally. But it had come at too high of a cost; his emotions were wiped clean, his loyalty belonging to only Magneto, the man for whom he had nearly killed his teammates, his friends for. Because he was so selfish...
Scott had vowed that from that day forward, he'd never put his wants and desires above those of others, especially those he cared for so deeply. A small part of him said that it was unfair to do that to himself, but the innate sense of leadership inside of him dictated otherwise, and he listened to that far too often.
But he hadn't the night before...
"And look at what it cost me..." he said wistfully.
Scott wiped the steam-covered mirror and stared at his own reflection. He looked surprisingly haggard.
Must not be getting enough sleep or something, he told himself.
He sneezed, and looked back at himself in shock. He surprised himself even further when he had to breathe in sharply through his nose, forcing the mucus back into his head. Scott hung his head and groaned. The source of his misery had finally dawned on him.
Great. This is just great.
The young mutant wrapped a towel tightly around his waist and gathered his old clothing, and stepped out the room...
...And right into Jean Grey.
She appeared to be heading for the bathroom, too, as was made apparent by her still wearing the oversized t-shirt she slept in, and the towel in her arms.
Normally, simply being in the same room with Jean was enough to make Scott go weak in the knees, and touching her, even if accidentally brushing up against her arm, brought him to the edge. But not this time. He had something (or someone) else on his mind, and it contributed to his waning interest in the red-haired beauty that stood before him.
"Huh? Oh. Sorry," he apologized, but his monotone said he didn't notice. Or didn't care.
Jean blushed and looked away from his bare torso, but her eyes drifted back to it, regardless. "S..Sorry," she stammered. I guess I should just w...watch where I'm going next time."
Scott mumbled something and slunk his way past her.
"Are you feeling alright?" Jean asked to his retreating back.
"I'm fine," he replied, not bothering to stop.
Scott did stop, however, when he felt something tug at his towel. He spun around and scowled at Jean. "I said I'm fine," he told her irritably.
"Don't lie to me, Scott Summers," Jean said, her tone indignant.
He grunted. "You shouldn't be going into people's heads with their permis--"
Jean smiled wickedly. "I don't need telepathy to know when you aren't telling me the truth," she said, cutting him off. Her voice then took on a motherly tone. "You don't look so well. Are you sure you're okay?"
Scott shrugged his shoulders. "It's early. What do you expect?"
In one graceful step, the red-haired mutant stepped in front of Scott and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "My...you're burning up."
"I just got out of a hot shower. What do you expect?" As if it were rehearsed, Scott sneezed. He barely remembered to cover his face with his hand so as to not sneeze in Jean's face. She would be none too appreciative for that. He inhaled through his nose, forcing the drainage from his sinuses back up into his nasal cavity.
"I guess you're right. I must have caught some of...Kitty's flu." If Jean noticed the reluctance when Scott said Kitty's name, she didn't let on.
Jean clicked her tongue between her teeth. "C'mon, we're getting you to bed." Scott protested, but the combination of being sick, and the realization that he was clad in only a towel meant he put up a very weak fight.
Jean gave him enough privacy so that he could at least put on some pants, before rushing him into bed and tending to him like a worried mother.
"Now you stay in this bed," she told him for the twentieth time, pulling the blanket over his body and up to his neck. "You stay right here, and rest. I'll go down and get you some chicken soup, okay?"
Scott could only groan. He had stopped trying to fend her off by the time she had barged into the room after he had just barely buttoned up his jeans.
I should make her stop, he muttered in his head, careful as to not project any of his thoughts. I should get up and throw her out and... He pulled the blanket closer to his body as he tried to suppress a sudden chill that he beset him. Ok...maybe she's right. Besides, if I'm in here, I don't have to worry about seeing Kitty...
*****
Calm down Kitty, just calm down... It's only a guy... A guy you've seen every day for...how long have I lived here? He's just a guy... Any old guy... A mega-hot guy who said I was cute... Oh, you're no help.
Kitty Pryde was practically dancing in place, but had to be careful for the steaming bowl of chicken soup she held in her hands. She had to practically pry it out of Jean's hands down in the kitchen...
~~~
"Scott?" Jean hid a small smile behind her hand. "He's uh...in bed...sick."
Kitty nearly choked on her orange juice from that bit of news.
Then she blushed, thinking back to the night before, with the choking, and Scott's arms wrapped around her and...
"S...sick?" she squeaked.
Jean nodded. "I think he caught a little of your flu."
Kitty's face flushed to an exact shade of Jean's hair.
Rogue chuckled low in her throat. "I guess you're feelin' better now?"
Kitty nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, but... Oh God, I like, feel so bad now! Especially after he was so nice, bringing me my dinner last night." And other things... a devilish part of her conscience said.
That won another laugh from Rogue (the part she said out loud).
"Well, I'm about to take this soup up to Scott, if you want to come with me," Jean said, gesturing to a bowl resting on the counter, heat vapors rising off the top.
Kitty bolted over and picked up the bowl. "I'll take it to him!" She quickly set it back down on the counter and blew on her hands. The bowl was very hot. "I'll take it up there. It's the least I can do, for getting him sick and all..."
Jean nodded reluctantly. "But don't stay up there too long. You wouldn't want to get sick again," she warned.
Kitty nodded and slid an oven mitt over a hand before carefully picking up the bowl and leaving the room.
~~~
Well...maybe 'pry' was too strong of a word.
Kitty felt numb, her emotions in a tangled mess. She didn't know what to think, what to say, or what to feel.
He said I was cute... But...he likes Jean, right? I mean, he just thinks I'm like, his little sister or something... But he said I was cute... What am I supposed to say to him?
She bit down on her lower lip, utter confusion wracking her body.
She took a deep breath, long and slow.
It's too late to turn back now...
Kitty reached out with an unsteady hand, balled up, and rapped her knuckles against the cold, hard wood of the door...
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