Title: A Series Of Observations
Author: furygrrl
Archive: Just ask first
Rating: T - rated for language and hints of sexuality
Disclaimer: Not mine
Part Seven: Mixed Signals
Another car?
The thought caught Jean's attention and she glanced up, blinking through the cold raindrops that clung to her lashes.
Water streamed down from above like a veritable curtain, combining with the low-hanging clouds and the clusters of pine and cedar trees that lined the road to make the darkness almost absolute. She couldn't see what lay ahead, but the humming drone of an engine - growing louder with every passing second - told her that she hadn't been mistaken; some kind of vehicle was indeed approaching. A realization that was confirmed when a pair of misty headlights suddenly appeared in the distance, flickering through the trees before rounding a bend, and then moving swiftly up the straight stretch of hard-packed earth she was currently traversing.
Must be a local, she concluded with a dismissive shrug of her bare shoulders. Or maybe it's the same jackass who drenched me a mile ago - back for round two...
The sarcastic jest encouraged a sardonic smile, one that faded as she squinted to get a better look at the car flying towards her.
A boxy shape...high, round headlights - one slightly dimmer than the other...incredibly noisy...obviously needs a new muffler or a tune-up or something... Hey, wait a second...
Suspicious recognition widened her narrowed eyes.
"I think that is the same jackass!" she gasped, both surprised and angry all at once.
Energy surged through her like electricity as her power reawakened, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent, mind spinning with all manner of vengeful possibilities.
Boy, did you ever pick the wrong night to piss me off, she told the car's driver wordlessly, her fingers curling into her palms.
She'd just begun debating the merits of blowing out his tires versus sending the idiot careening into the ditch, when those arcing lights spilled over her form and blinded her night-sensitive eyes. She threw an arm up against her brow, attempting to lessen the glare, only to see the car's forward momentum skid to an abrupt halt a few feet away. Jean blinked apprehensively at the recently stilled vehicle - a jeep, she absently noted, its close proximity now enabling her to identify its make - and, her arm slowly lowering to her side, waited to see what the driver wanted of her.
She wasn't left waiting for long, as the passenger door suddenly swung outward on an audible creak of unoiled hinges - a wordless invitation if Jean ever saw one. But rather than filling her with relief or gratitude, it only served to rekindle her anger.
"I don't believe this," she ground out in disgust, her voice calling to the driver as she began stalking towards his window. "If you think I'm going to jump into some stranger's car, you've got another thing coming, buddy! Or was that your sick and twisted plan from the get go? Drive by and splash me in the hopes that I'd just accept a ride from any weirdo that offered one?
Jean was less than five paces from the driver's door, quivering with righteous indignation, when the window started to roll down.
"What are you, some kind of pervert?" she continued, viciously swiping rain from her eyes. "Because I promise you that if you even so much as -"
Her voice cut out mid-sentence, her throat constricting in shock, when her baleful stare met the very same pair of dark eyes that had hijacked her thoughts only minutes earlier. Eyes that were now regarding her ranting figure with a mixture of impatience and vague irritation.
Lance...
Inexplicably embarrassed, former outrage died, allowing the damp's chill to overtake her once again. She shivered, crossing her arms against her breasts, and licked the beads of rain from her lips in an attempt to appear other than the pitiful creature she knew she must look like.
"W-what are you doing here?" she finally asked, bewilderment stealing her breath.
There was a sigh, heavy with aggravation, a muttering of words too low to be discerned over both the still running jeep and the unabated storm, and then those glittering, disconcerting eyes flicked away, shifting to stare out the windshield sullenly.
Jean watched the play of unhappy emotions scroll across his face, wondering if an answer was forthcoming, or if his being there confused him as much as it did her.
The silence between them stretched, the elapsing time marked by the rhythmic 'thwumping' of the front wiper blades, until the redhead let out a sigh of her own. She had no idea what he wanted, what he expected of her, or why he'd even come back in the first place. The impression he was giving plainly stated that, return or not - open door or not - she was the very last person he wanted sitting in that as yet unofficially offered seat next to him.
Well forget this, Jean grumbled to herself, scrunching her toes in the mud to get some feeling back into them. I'm not going to stand here all night, waiting to get pneumonia while he tries to figure out which hint he'd like me to take - especially when one is so much more obvious than the other...
"Look, I appreciate..." she began haltingly, amending her words with a shake of her wet head. "I'll be fine on my own."
Unsurprisingly, her announcement drew no response.
Whatever, she huffed internally, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she turned away, not bothering with a farewell.
Though her walk had only been interrupted for a few minutes, and there'd been no time for her surroundings to change by any noticeable degree, when Jean took that first step away from Lance's jeep, she could have sworn that wind was colder, and the night darker, than ever before.
Spying Jean's waterlogged form, Lance released the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. "Finally," he grumbled, maneuvering the jeep into the center of the road before jerking it to a stop.
Pausing only long enough to turn down the radio, he leaned across to the passenger side and flung the door open, pretty sure that she'd take the gesture for what it was worth, and simply climb in.
No explanation needed, no extra effort to be made, no awkward propositions. At least that's what he predicted - until Jean began advancing on him, biting words rolling off her tongue, and fury blazing in her eyes.
"She thinks I'm some freak who soaked her purposely, and now she's pissed. Perfect," Lance muttered sourly when he heard the nature of her accusations, cranking his window down to show the nearing girl that she was wrong. "I knew I should've just kept driving."
He peered out at the redhead, miffed at the reception he was receiving - though he knew on some level that it was deserved - and waited for her to clue in.
"What are you, some kind of pervert? Because I promise you that if you even so much as -"
Recognition brought instant silence, instant cessation of movement, and for Lance, on the receiving end of that wide-eyed, expressive green stare, instant discomfort.
Something hot started nibbling at the lining of his stomach, and though he'd been prepared for it, had steeled himself against it, his pressure points began throbbing all at once in response to his now nervously stuttering heartbeat. Sensations, he noted with something akin to confused dismay, that only intensified at the sight of her tongue anxiously sweeping along her rain-dewed lower lip.
"W-what are you doing here?"
Her soft voice, devoid of its earlier heat, shook him out of the fixed state of paralysis that had taken him unawares, but it was the sharp stab of guilt at seeing how she shivered, joining forces with growing uneasiness, that fully jolted him back to his originally irritated self.
What the hell is happening to me? He silently railed, a hissing exhalation, heavy with vexation, preceding his too-quiet, angrily muttered reply to the redhead's question. "You're the fucking telepath, you tell me."
He turned away from her after that, both in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure and to avoid suffering any further, decidedly disturbing reactions her steady gaze seemed able to provoke. He concentrated on the view ahead instead, focusing determinedly on the jeep's wipers, watching as they struggled against the waves of water pouring down the windshield, and stiffly waited for Jean to take him up on his grudging, and in his mind, blatantly obvious offer.
Only she didn't, and the newly tangible silence between them flourished.
She's waiting for you to ask her... an inner voice eventually prompted.
I have! Lance shot back peevishly, feeling his face tighten in annoyance. Is it my fault she's too dumb to get out of the rain? What the hell does she want - an engraved invitation?
The redhead's tentative voice quelled the rest of his internal griping.
"Look, I appreciate..."
Yeah, yeah...thank me all you want, just get in the damn car, he told her with mute exasperation when she hesitated, more than ready to put the whole sorry mess of a night behind him and be on his way.
"I'll be fine on my own."
Blah, blah, stuff the gratitude and just... Wait - what did she say? The unexpected response caught him off guard.
Surprised disbelief, preventing him from either speaking or moving, held him in thrall for the barest of seconds - and just long enough for Jean to get the wrong impression. A mistake realized when he turned, words to rectify the situation parting his lips, only see that she'd already begun moving away.
His eyes narrowed with the first angry thought that came to mind at her dismissal. Well fuck her, then. If that's the way she wants it...
Tires spun, the engine growled, and the still-open passenger door squeaked and flapped as Lance turned the jeep towards home, the revised direction bringing Jean into his sights once again. He paused before leaning over to pull the door shut, watching her for a moment, trying to lighten his black mood with thoughts of how miserable - how sorry - she'd be when he was gone...until he saw her stumble.
It was the slightest of falters, one to be expected in such sodden conditions, but it served to remind him that she had a long walk ahead of her, one that could hold any number of not-so-pleasant happenings along the way. It was a reluctant, yet sobering, realization, and before he could counter it, it overwhelmed his snide notions and set him to cursing all over again.
He pulled back into his own seat, ignoring the open side door, and floored the gas pedal, grumbling all the while. "I've gotta be the biggest fucking idiot...need my head examined...don't know why I should even give a rat's ass about her stupid, stuck-up, stubborn...Hey!" he called out through that unclosed door when the jeep had pulled alongside her.
Jean, as expected, paused and turned at his shout. Lance gestured to her sharply, encouraging her to close the small distance between them. When she did, watching him with wary curiosity, he gritted his teeth and steeled himself for a graceful surrender
"Would you...do you need..." Grace fled and his tongue tangled under her gaze. He sighed in annoyance. "Just...get in."
He could see her eyes widen slightly at the gruff, half-hearted command, could practically feel them moving over his face as if searching for something, and again, at the first sparking of discomfiting emotion their phantom touch elicited, he looked away, waiting for her response.
But nothing was said, nor was any further advancement made, and suddenly he wondered if perhaps he'd been the one to get the wrong impression.
Thinks she's too good...too good even to ride with someone like you... whispered darkly in his head, that bitter inner voice and all the memories it conjured twisting his lips.
Memories of Kitty calling his worth - or lack thereof - into question just before cutting him loose. Pained, his eyes screwed shut against the unwelcome reminder, and strangely, when presented with the possibility of Jean sharing in his ex's opinion of him, a sense of faint disappointment.
Why so surprised? That subconscious hissing continued mockingly as Lance's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. You're a loser. Kitty knows it, her rich Institute friends know it, people at school know it - everyone knows it. Why should Jean be any different?
The seat next to him squeaked softly under new weight, followed by the loud clang of a door slamming home, both sounds interrupting his bleak musings. Startled, Lance opened his eyes and glanced over at the passenger's side - only to be taken aback by what his brain had nearly convinced him he wouldn't see.
Jean, dripping wet and chafing her upper arms for warmth, was beside him, the dark fan of her water-spiked lashes nearly, but not quite, hiding the apprehensive light in her shadowed green eyes. Surprised and unable to do otherwise, Lance stared at her - at those lashes, rising and falling like nervous butterfly wings - and felt that earlier warmth return to gnaw at his stomach with renewed gusto until Jean shifted and looked away, huddling deeper into her seat.
Her movement recalled him back to himself and to the task at hand. Without further ado, he put the jeep into gear.
As it started coasting down the road towards home once again, Lance gave himself a mental shake to clear a head full of unsettling thoughts, and all but one obeyed - a previous, now plaintive, question that had yet to be answered.
What the hell is happening to me?
That a glib explanation still eluded him was vaguely distressing - that he couldn't understand why, even more so. But that Jean seemed to be the reason for his confusion...
Lance shook his head at that last notion and firmly pushed it away before it could be explored.
Unwilling to admit, even to himself, that there was something about the telepath that disturbed him most of all.