Red Hot
"I don't dye my hair," Jean said, apropos of nothing.
"Okay," Scott said agreeably, turning another page of the Sports section. He took a sip of his coffee and waited for Jean to continue – he knew she would, she wasn't just going to let this go. He'd been waiting for three weeks for her to bring this up, and now that she had…
Well, it was a good thing it was Saturday. He had a feeling it would take the next forty-eight hours for her to finally spit everything out.
"I really don't," Jean reiterated, staring nervously down into her glass of orange juice. "It's just a rinse that I use sometimes to make my hair brighter. Chlorine from the pool and all the…sweat from basketball practice and Danger Room sessions tends to make the color dull."
"Sounds perfectly reasonable to me," Scott said. "I think Bobby has some blond hair rinse he uses for the same reason." He lowered his coffee cup to the table and added, "At least your hair doesn't turn green if you spend too long in the swimming pool."
Jean smiled crookedly. "Yeah, it just looks slightly…brown. Or orange, depending…" She sighed and looked directly at him. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"
Frowning slightly, Scott lowered his newspaper and returned her gaze. "Why wouldn't I be?" Reaching out, he clasped one of her hands in his own. "Jean, even if you did dye your hair, I'd still love you. It doesn't matter to me if your hair is red, brown, purple with green polka-dots…"
Jean snorted.
Scott smiled and continued, "…or if you're bald. I love you."
"Well, as long as you don't think I'm a blond in disguise…" She blushed slightly and ducked her head.
"No, Jean. You're my Red, and you always will be." With that, he pulled her close for a kiss. He accidentally knocked over his coffee cup and spent the next few seconds thanking whatever deity looked out for mutants that Jean was telekinetic – hot coffee in his lap was not conducive to kissing.
A hot girl in his lap…