Pairings- Jean/Scott/Kurt, with emphasis on the Scott/Kurt. Nothing too smutty, though. =D
Archive- Ask, and ye shall recieve
Disclaimer- I don't own X-men. They're owned by Marvel, a wonderful, benevolent company that would never ever sue a poor woman just because she wrote a little drabble starring their characters... I hope.
Notes- I just wanted to play with my favorite characters a bit. Yes, I like Jean. =P But still, tell me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong, so that my nest fic won't suck as much, kay?
"If I was a Canadian berserker with no social skills to speak of," Kurt Wagner mused, absently tugging on a strand of dark blue hair, "Where would I be?"
"We may never know. Those Canadian berserkers are masters of stealth, you know." His usually neatly combed hair disheveled, Scott Summers miserably nursed his mug of coffee. He lived by a tight schedule, and that schedule didn't include waking up at 3 AM, searching for 'missing' teammates. "As training missions go, this one is sadly lacking purpose. Let's face it: Logan's run out of ideas."
Jean Grey shook her head, wondering for the umpteenth time if she was the only member of the X-men with any work ethic at all. Pushing her red hair behind her shoulders, she tried her best to remain upbeat. "Try to hang on, boys. I'm working on it." She closed her eyes and placed her hands on her temples, concentrating.
"Hey. Scott." Kurt kept his voice down, trying not to disturb Jean.
"What now?" Scott grumbled, folding his thin arms across his chest, looking more like a cranky teenager then a X-man.
Ignoring Scott's foul mood, Kurt leaned closer to his friend. "Why do they do that?"
"Who do what?"
"Telepaths. Why do they always put their hands on their heads? I can't figure it out."
Scott shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. What makes you think I would?"
"Well, you are dating one."
"That doesn't mean I'm a walking encyclopedia of telepathic lore! And besides, we aren't dating." Scott snapped, wishing he had gotten a larger mug. He was obviously going to need it.
"Well, if you two aren't an item," Kurt murmured in a surprisingly coy manner and placing his hands on Scott's arm, "maybe you and I can do the whole giving into our teenage hormones thing in my room when we get back?"
"Kurt!" Scott's tone was indignant, but he was grinning. "...Maybe."
Kurt smiled warmly, his yellow eyes visible even at night. "Well, if all it takes for you to relax is the offer of hot gay sex, I would've made sure you relaxed a long time ago."
Scott stared at Kurt for a long while, looking as if he really was considering 'relaxing'... then he waved his hand in the air vaguely. "If I had to guess... they do it to keep their heads from exploding."
"Hmm... well, considering the size of Jean's head, that actually could be it."
Ahem.
Jean glared at both boys, her hand on her hips, her lips not moving, and looking less then pleased.
I can hear you, you know.