Moving On Up
Scott Summers took a deep breath and laid the flowers at the foot of the large stone bird that stood on the grounds of the Xavier mansion, a large stone bird that had been put there specifically to honour the memory of Jean Grey. Scott took another deep breath, ran his hands through his hair, and said "Hey, Jean. Been a little while, hasn't it? I just thought I'd bring you these, because it's Valentine's Day. Must be hard keeping track of time where you are, I guess, so I thought you might need the reminder."
"I thought I'd find you here," came a voice from behind him, and Scott turned to find his new girlfriend Emma Frost standing with one hand on her hip, and one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow arched. "Please, Scott – don't make this any harder on yourself than you already are."
Scott laughed. "Don't tell me you're concerned for my welfare, Emma – I won't believe you."
"Who said I was concerned for your welfare, darling?" Emma fired back, with a sly half-smile. "This is just a question of getting you away from that ghastly statue and back into the land of the living. With me." She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose briefly. "I'm serious, Scott – standing by that thing will not bring Jean back. And even if she did come back, do you really think you could simply wave a magic wand and make things go back to the way they were? I don't. Life simply doesn't work that way."
"I know, Emma, but –" Scott broke off for a moment or two, before he gestured hopelessly at the statue with one hand "– but this is the first Valentine's Day in years that I haven't at least seen her. She was my best friend. That's got to mean something, hasn't it?"
"I understand that, but you have to know what this is doing to me. I'm supposed to be your partner now, Scott, in more ways than one. How do you think it makes me feel to see you hanging around this statue as if you're expecting it to crack like an egg and spew Jean bloody Grey out onto the lawn? It – it hurts me, Scott." Emma's eyes narrowed to slits then, and she jabbed a finger at Scott like a dagger. "And if you tell anybody I said that, I will hurt you in return. I have an image I need to keep up, with the students and with the rest of the X-Men. Look, this is Valentine's Day. Haven't you got anything better to do than talk to a hunk of rock?"
Scott's face cracked into an uncharacteristic smile. "Well, I suppose I could take a walk with you around the grounds."
"That's better. Now come on, Scott – we don't have all day."
"You are such a romantic, Emma, you know that?" Scott said with a small smile.
Emma scowled. "I'm serious, Scott. Both of us have classes to teach and paperwork to do. If you want to walk with me, you'd better learn to fit it in between my Telepathic Ethics and your Energy Projection, otherwise it will just turn into a jog, and neither of us wants that, do we? I know I certainly don't; thigh boots don't lend themselves well to that sort of thing, no matter what Storm may tell you." She held out her hand. "Come on. Who knows, you might just get a surprise on the way." Scott settled his hand into hers, and the two of them started walking towards the main mansion house, where several of the Hellions squad were throwing a football to and fro, vaguely trying to avoid disturbing the New Mutants as they studied on the lawn. Scott reached the glass doors that led to the interior of the mansion and opened one of them, inviting Emma to go through. "I thought you wanted to stay in the garden?" Emma replied, a little taken aback.
"Well, I got thirsty. How about I find us some lemonade indoors?" Scott suggested. "I just remembered I had a few bottles stashed away for an emergency – and this qualifies as an emergency, wouldn't you say?"
"Absolutely," Emma agreed, even though she sounded as if she really didn't, and then followed Scott into the refectory that was the source of all the food for the hundreds of students who attended Xavier's school. Scott walked up to the four-armed chef who was serving the mass-produced slop that fed the kids, whispered a few words into her ear, and was presented with a freshly-chilled bottle of lemonade, along with two tall glasses. Ushering Emma over to a table in the corner of the room, Scott opened the bottle and poured two generous measures of lemonade. "How is it?" Emma asked, looking disdainfully at the fizzing liquid in her own glass.
"Tastes like chicken," Scott replied. "It's lemonade, Emma – how do you think it tastes?"
"Ha-ha-ha," Emma replied, sticking her tongue out. "You really missed your calling as a stand-up comedian, Scott, believe me. If you won't tell me how this tastes, then I guess I had better find out for myself." Lifting her glass to her lips, Emma took a small sip and raised her eyebrows briefly.
"Do you like it?" Scott asked hopefully.
"Actually, I do," Emma said, looking at her glass in surprise. "That's not all that bad. Where did you get it?"
"The local 7/11," Scott answered. "What can I say? It was cheap and I was thirsty." Then he looked down at his hands for a moment or two and began "You know, Emma, these past few months have been –"
"Please, Scott, don't tell me they've been the happiest of your life," Emma snapped. "I might love you, but I don't love you that much."
"These past few months have been painful," Scott continued, not missing a beat, "but you've helped me a lot, and for that I'm grateful. Which is why I bought you this." He reached into his pocket and drew out a small box. "I've been trying to find the right moment to give it to you, and Valentine's Day seemed like the best option, you know?"
Emma took the box and popped it open, to reveal a diamond necklace. It was hardly as expensive as something Emma would have bought herself – in fact, it wasn't even half as expensive as anything else Emma had in her jewellery box – but she decided to keep that sort of information to herself for once. "It's… it's lovely, Scott," she said, inwardly biting her lip to contain the sarcastic remark she could feel crying to be released.
Scott sighed. "You don't think it's good enough, do you?"
"It's your gift to me, and I'm grateful, Scott. That's the truth." Emma nodded towards the lemonade. "Is this the reason why you had to go to the 7/11 for the lemonade?"
Scott's scowl faded then, and was replaced by a sheepish nod. "Yeah. And don't tell anybody else, but those Pringles I bought for Hank's birthday? They were own-brand ones, not the genuine article."
"Oh my," Emma said, placing her hand to her chest in mock-surprise. "Apparently I've been teaching you bad habits, Mr Summers. Whatever would your father say?"
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Scott replied. "The next time he visits, I don't want a list of things I've done wrong landing on his command chair, all right?"
"All right, I won't do it," Emma replied, before marking a cross over her breasts with one finger. "Cross my heart." Then something seemed to light up inside her brain, and she said "I have something for you, too. Finish your lemonade and we can go and get it." She downed the contents of her glass in one swallow and waited for Scott to do the same, before leading him back to their shared bedroom and rummaging under their bed until she found a large box. Handing it to Scott, she said "There you are. Happy Valentine's Day, Mr Summers."
"Why, thank you, Miss Frost," Scott said, and hooked his fingers under one of the pieces of tape that held the parcel's wrapping in place. Pulling the paper away, Scott opened the box inside to reveal a sharp black suit. "Wow," Scott said. "That's wonderful, Emma. Thank you." He leaned over to kiss her, running his hand down her cheek gently as he did so.
"It's custom-made, you know," Emma told him once he had broken the kiss. "You won't find another one like it anywhere in the world. I thought that was appropriate, don't you think?"
"Careful, Emma, you're starting to sound emotional," Scott chuckled. "You might not live that one down."
In response, Emma simply pushed Scott's face into the pillows at the head of their bed. "Oh, shut up, Summers," she said with a wry smile. "Don't get your hopes up."
Scott grabbed her shoulders then, and brought her down to his level, kissing her enthusiastically. "I love you," he said, and then paused, as if expecting a response to come automatically.
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Are you expecting me to say 'I love you' as well?"
"Well, that is generally how these things are done," Scott said, shrugging slightly. "And I do love you, you know."
"Yes, unfortunately I do know. I'm a telepath, remember?" Emma said, before she smiled broadly (and somewhat uncharacteristically, too. Scott had to admit he was always surprised when Emma gave him one of those grins instead of her usual brand of thin-lipped smiles) and continued "And for the record, Mr Summers, I love you too. I have no idea why, of course, but I love you too." She looked at her watch then, and swore loudly. "Damn it – I have to get to my class now, Scott. I'll see you later." Tracing the lines of Scott's jaw, she kissed him again, and then she was gone. Scott took a moment to collect his thoughts, and then realised he had a class to get to as well. Before he left the room, he made sure to hang his new suit up and then closed the door behind him. He hoped that his students would forgive him if he were a little late.
Later, Scott stood outside the classroom where Emma was teaching her second Telepathic Ethics class of the day, holding a bunch of flowers and carrying a box of chocolates. It was corny, he knew, but that was what he knew best, so he decided he ought to go with it. When Emma opened the door, he smiled and said "So, where would you like to go for dinner?"
"As long as you're paying, darling, the world is our oyster," Emma replied, gesturing expansively to illustrate her point. Then she noticed something and her face cracked into another smile. "I see the suit fits, then. Thank you for at least trying it on."
"It's the least I could do, right?" Scott said. "It fits great, by the way."
"Money well-spent," Emma chuckled. "It's always nice to know my investments are going to pay off."
"Evidently," Scott said, before he nodded down the hallway towards the stairs. "So do you actually have any idea where to go for dinner, or shall we just beg for it in the street?"
"I don't know, Scott – why don't we go into town and just… walk, until we find somewhere nice?"
Scott raised his eyebrows. "If that's what you want."
"That is what I want," Emma replied. "You get the car, and I'll go get ready."
Scott undid his tie and hung it in his wardrobe, before hanging his jacket and trousers up in his wardrobe and bundling his shirt into the washing basket that stood in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Emma was doing the same with her clothes, stripping down to her underwear and then joining Scott under their sheets. "I had a great time tonight," he said. "I really enjoyed myself."
Emma raised both eyebrows in a not-very-surprised expression. "You know, I should hope so – I paid enough for it," she said. Then, after a few moments she glanced sideways at Scott and said "I had a good time, too, you know – it's not often I get to see you smile. You should do it more."
"I'll do my best," Scott said as he closed his eyes and removed his glasses, placing them in their water-filled glass, and then put on his special sleeping goggles. Just as he was about to lie down, though, Emma laid her hand across his wrist.
"Scott, I think I've been a bad girl. I think you need to punish me." She put one finger over her lips and fluttered her eyelashes. "Bad girls need to be spanked to teach them a lesson. Will you teach me a lesson, Scott?"
Scott grinned, and grabbed Emma around the waist, pushing her down to the mattress. "Happy Valentine's Day, Emma," he said, with the breathless anticipation of a man who knew that his wildest dreams were about to come true.
The next morning, Scott was walking through the gardens of the mansion, enjoying a brief break between classes. As he walked, he saw the Phoenix monument to his left. Briefly he paused, one hand raised indecisively near the centre of his chest, and then he walked on, a smile plastering itself across his lips. Goodbye, Jean, he thought.