Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men or any likeness thereof, nor am I making any money, so please read and review for compensation!


This is an AU based loosely on the movie.


The moment that Scott Summers saw Jean Grey, was nothing to write a romance novel about. There was no strong gust of wind that made her fall into his open, muscled arms. There was no light fall of snow, hard gale of rain, beautiful rainbow, or sunny sky. Instead there was a gray fog that covered everything in its path. It was a bleary, cold day, with rain that slid down your back as it drizzled lazily from the sky, and froze in puddles on the ground. It was wet and cold and dark.

The first moment he saw her, he did not think her beautiful. That came much later. He did not think her poised, elegant, radiant, or smart, nor did he find her funny, witty, full of life, kind or an absolute goddess. Instead all he saw was brassy red hair and a big fur coat.

When Jean Grey saw Scott Summers, she did not immediately feel the connection that said, "It's him stupid." Despite all her telepathic abilities, she did not know that he was the one. She did not feel an instant tug that sent her flying into his waiting arms to mash her face into his and to profess undying love before she fainted from the sheer pleasure of it all. She did not find him handsome or strong, faithful or loyal, smart or kind or caring or all the qualities that she came to love about his very being. Instead she saw a little boy trying to turn into a man.

There first moment was not one that would be remembered for the ages. It was not the kind written of in sonnets or plays or novels. Instead, it was quite the opposite. Scott was late for school, and he chose that exact moment to peer down at his watch. He opened the door, trying to decipher the little hands on his watch, when his Reebok encased foot hit a particularly nasty patch of ice, and he was sent flying forward, as he tried to catch his balance. His hands landed…..

On Jean Grey's breasts. Jean was late for a meeting with the Professor. He wanted an update on her progress at school, considering he was the one paying for it. She, by some hand of fate, chose that exact moment to look at her, rather smaller, more feminine watch as well. She was on the top step when the door open, and a boy with an angel's face flew at her. He reached out his hands and they landed on her rather meager chest.

His face showed shock, but she could not read his eyes beneath the pitch black sunglasses. His mouth was open in a little oh, but he seemed frozen in place. He was way too good looking for any boy, but the glasses shielded from Jean what she felt was the most important part of a person. They stood there like that, Scott staring into her black eyes from beneath his glasses, and Jean searching his face.

"Excuse me," she said, rather chillily. Scott looked down at his hands, and he could see the flush rise in her throat. He made a noise that was halfway a grunt, halfway words, and pulled them back, and rubbed them on his thighs as if they were burning. He then got a good look at the woman in front of him. She was tall and leggy, and even through his glasses he could discern she was a redhead. She was too slender, athletic appearing. She had tiny glasses perched on her nose, kind of like Hank's. She had books that were scattered on the porch now. She wore a floor length black fur coat that he suspected was not real.

"Uh…" was all he could form. Her face grew angry as she bent to pick up her belongings. He kneeled at the same moment, and they knocked heads. She went sprawling down the stairs, and he lost his balance and somehow managed to roll on top of her, till their faces were mere inches apart. He could feel her chest heaving beneath his, probably from exertion. Her eyes were very large and very deep.

"Excuse me!" she shouted, a voice that was very motherly and very, very shrill. He jumped off her in record speed, but only managed to find another patch of ice and fall on his ass. He was now soaking wet and cold, and to make matters worse he banged his head on the ground with a groan.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked. He lifted a hand and felt wetness, but he was not sure whether it was rain or a puddle. "Don't move!" she shrieked again. He wouldn't move, if she would stop her incessant screaming. She moved to him, leaning over him so he got a good view of the breasts that he had earlier been touching. She leaned down, looked him in the face, grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, and ripped.

"Hey!"

She balled it up and placed it gently under his head.

"Hold this," she said. He complied, as her voice was very soft and quiet, and actually, quite pretty, if a little stiff. "Can you move?" He went to nod, but it came out a groan.

"Yeah," he managed to reply weakly.

"Good. I need to see your pupils," she said, her hands reaching up to remove his shades. His hand shot up and gripped her wrist.

"That would not be a good idea!" he said. She looked perplexed.

"Well how am I supposed to deduce whether or not you have a concunsion from your clumsiness?"

"Find another way, lady," he said, and tried to sit up. He immediately saw black spots and felt dizzy, and with another groan, laid back down.

"Don't be stubborn!" her hand went up again.

"Look, if you do that, I'll blow you clear to China. Leave the glasses on!"

"Oh." She said. As if that explained it. She rocked back on her heels, resting her hand on her chin, and leaving a ring of dark stain around it "You're that Summers boy, I've read your file." She looked slightly pleased with herself. He just looked at her. "Oh, I'm Jean Grey. I don't know if the Professor has said," she began.

He cut her off, "Of course. The infamous Dr. Grey. He raves about you."

That made her grin like a cat with cream. "I'm not a doctor yet."

With a half-groan, half-laugh, "That's obvious. Help me up."

Jean squatted next to him, and hooked her arm under his around his broad back. He stood, leaning heavily on him. Jean thought he was quite heavy for such a slender boy. He grimaced in pain as the world spun dizzily away, only to slam back to order. He managed to make it up the stairs and into the foyer. The Professor was there to greet him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"He hit the ice. Fell," Jean said. "I can't tell if he has a concussion, but it's not a fracture. He may need stitches."

The Professor tapped his communicator that he wore on his blazer. "Hank, prepare a bed in the med lab." He looked at Scott, "Can you walk?"

"Lead on."