Title: But We Aren't French

Author: Karabair Fandom: X-men movieverse
Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all!
Pairing/Characters: Scott/Jean/Logan. In a sense.
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1,912
Summary: X1. Jean thinks she knows how she and Scott and Logan can all get along. Scott has his reservations.
Author's Notes: This is not actually the porn I would like to write, it's more like an amusing interval before the porn.

Logan walked past their table, for the fourteenth time in the twenty minutes since Scott had started counting, casting fiery yellow eyes in Jean's direction. Scott dropped the stack of papers he had been marking and gave a heavy sigh.

Jean looked up from her lab notebook. "What?"

Scott jutted his chin at the retreating Logan. "I don't like the way he looks at you."

"Oh really?" Jean hooked an elbow over the back of her chair and watched Logan walk out the door. When he was gone, she turned back to Scott. " 'Cause I kind of thought you did."

"And why would I?"

"Because you're a boy. And boys like it when other boys envy their toys."

"That's – " he stammered " – that's degrading. To you. To me. Maybe even to Logan." He frowned. "If that's actually possible."

Jean shrugged. "Just an observation."

"I'm sorry if it makes me an asshole," he said. "But I don't exactly like some other guy walking around like he owns the place, and undressing you with his eyes. I might have to kick his ass to get him to lay off."

"Well –" Jean stood and gathered her papers for the upcoming class. Pecking Scott on the cheek, she said, "That would be one way.

Scott didn't have much time to think about the conversation, what with a horde of restless teenagers in need of exam review. So he put it in the back of his mind through the classes, then a sit-down-and-argue with Ororo about next semester's athletics budget. Finally, he had a short-term strategy session with the Professor, which was on the verge of becoming a very long-term session, when Jean knocked on the door and asked, "Can I borrow my boyfriend?"

"We're in the middle – " Scott began.

"I need your help with something," she answered, then turned to Xavier, "I need his help."

The Professor's mouth twitched at one corner. "Yes, I believe the thirty-year-plan will keep."

"But. . ." Between Xavier's nod of dismissal and the urgent look on Jean's face, Scott gave up his protest and scrambled to follow her out the door. "What is it?" She kept a pace ahead of him, and he reached out to touch her shoulder. "Hey! What's the matter? What kind of help --?"

She turned with a wicked grin on her face, and eased into his chest, backing him against the wall. "Come upstairs and help me take my clothes off."

Scott wasn't exactly sure how they got up the stairs, and the next hour or so passed in an extremely pleasant blur. For a good part of it, Jean's back was against the oak cabinet and her legs were around his waist. After that, he was on his knees, and finally they ended up, tangled and sweaty and breathless, on their backs in the wide soft bed.

"I don't want to sound like I don't appreciate this," he whispered, running his fingers up her neck. "I really really, and I can't emphasize this enough – really – could end a hell of a lot of workdays this way. I wouldn't be complaining. On the other hand, I feel sort of an obligation to make it clear that I'm not as gullible as you might possibly be thinking that I am. So." He pressed his lips to her forehead, then moved them down her nose, her mouth, her chin. "What do you want?"

"I want you to know," she kissed him softly and wrapped an arm around his back, so that her breasts pressed against him. "-- that I love you and I'm incredibly attracted to you and that I love that our relationship still has this wild and spontaneous passion to it and –"

She paused for a moment. He said, ". . .and --?"

"And –" She coughed and rolled on her back, "Remember what we were saying about Logan?"

"Oh, Jesus. Can we make a rule not to talk about Logan while we're naked?"

"All right –" She started to sit up. "I'll just get my shirt –"

"Oh no –"

"Or your shirt –" She pulled his china blue cotton from where it had fallen in the covers. Scott watched her fasten the buttons across her breasts, and he couldn't complain about that. She nestled against him and whispered, "You can put on my shirt, if you want."

"I'll pass, thanks. So –" He put a hand to her chest, feeling her through the soft fabric. Resignedly, he said, "You wanted to talk about Logan?" Her body stiffened, just for a second, against his hand, and suddenly Scott realized he might not be ready for this conversation. "Shit." He let her go and crashed down on his back. "Shit shit shit. You fucked him, didn't you?" The voice came out a lot calmer than he felt. Under the glasses, he pressed his eyelids shut so that he could feel the throbbing pulse from the back of his head. "I'm such a fucking idiot, because I really never thought – shit. Jean, why the hell --"

"Hey!" He felt her hand on his chest, and when he opened his eyes to see her, Scott could have sworn she was laughing. "Mr. Summers," she said. "Chill out. I didn't, and I wouldn't. All right?" Jean placed her lips on his mouth, and, despite his utter bafflement, Scott accepted the kiss. She let him go, then lay down beside him, and began. "But –"

"But --?"

"But there's this tension. You've noticed it, I've noticed it, Logan sure as hell notices it. It's not just going away. Even if he does. Especially not if he does."

"So you're saying – you want to fuck him? And you just thought you'd tell me about it? Are you –" He shook his head. "Please tell me you're not asking my permission. We aren't French."

"Not even a little bit," Jean agreed. "But what I was thinking is that maybe –" Her hand touched his bare chest, and fingertips skittered down, spreading to rest on the flat of his stomach. "I was thinking maybe we could – that is, both of us – all three of us --"

"What?" Scott sat up, jerking away from her touch. "Jean! That's not – " He reached about for the right word. "That's not professional!"

Jean's eyes widened, and he could see her choking back laughter. She finally managed a question. "What is our profession exactly? Are you talking about us as teachers or – is there some kind of superhero sex code I'm not aware of?"

"It's sure as hell not, 'You saved the day, welcome to the team, have an orgy.'"

"I guess not – " she mused. "Sort of a shame if you think about it."

"Seriously, Jean. Do you really think Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Girl ask Victor von Doom over for a threesome?"

"Don't –" Jean held up a finger in warning " – drag my theories about Reed and Victor into this. Because they will not help your cause. Anyway," she mused, "Logan's not really Dr. Doom in this scenario. More like Johnny Storm."

"He's your brother?"

"Or maybe yours," she mused with a playful smile.

He pressed a hand to his temple. "Please stop saying things that I can't unhear."

She touched his hand, pressing a thumb into the palm, and pulled it down so she could kiss his forehead. "God, you look so miserable. I'm sorry I brought it up." He let her kiss him again, and he thought she was ready to drop it, when she said, "Look, you wouldn't have even have to touch each other – you wouldn't have to touch me at the same time, if it weirds you out – Although it wouldn't be your first, would it?"

He groaned and lay down on the pillow. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"Because I'm telepathic and you're afraid if you don't tell me, the thought will slip out at an inopportune moment –"

"All right. Look. There was that one thing I told you about. One –" He held up a hand and started counting off on the fingers. "I was eighteen. Two. I was drunk. Three. I was emotionally distraught because you and I had just had a big fight. Four. Gambit is an enormous man-whore. Five. It was just a hand job." Realizing he was out of fingers, Scott went on, ". . .which I was on the receiving end of, and it wasn't that good –"

"And you didn't inhale. I get it." She kissed his cheek. "You're right about Gambit, anyway."

"Look." Scott rolled on his side. "I took human sexuality in college. I know my Kinsey score. This isn't about that. It's about the fact that Logan is lusting after you, and he hates me, and I'm just not all that eager to have sex with someone who hates me. Much less to watch him with my girlfriend. I mean, why?"

"Well --" She buried her fingers in his hair. "Among other things -- he'd have to watch me with you." She tilted her head and looked at him hard. "There's not any level where that appeals to you? Letting him know that you're aware of what's going on, and you're not threatened. That you can be in control of the situation, even have some fun with it?" She kissed his neck, then looked up. "You're not threatened. Are you?"

Scott bit his lip. "Well, that kind of depends. Is what you're really telling me that – there's this attraction, or tension, or whatever – with you and Logan – and if I don't agree to this, you'll go to him on your own?"

"No," she said firmly. "You can say 'no' and it's over."

"So," he said. "I have the power of refusal. Except that – if I say 'no' – I'm admitting I'm the jealous asshole who is threatened by somebody else looking at my toys."

"No," she said. "Well – maybe a little. Besides –– it wouldn't be the first time. There was that thing we did in Bermuda."

He groaned. "See, I never should have agreed to that. I knew you were going to bring it up. Use it against me, somehow."

"You didn't complain at the time."

"No," he agreed. "It was very nice. But it was a different situation."

He lifted his hand, and she grabbed it. "Honey, I love you, but if you start counting on your fingers again. . ." She dropped the hand, and Scott had to rub it to get the sensation back. The woman had a grip. "You had better not tell me it was different because it was another woman."

"I wasn't," he said. "Kinsey score. Remember? But. That was your idea. And you seemed to be having a hell of a good time. Plus, you picked the woman. She wasn't someone we knew, who we'd have to work with again. Just some superhero groupie. And, you were perfectly aware that she wasn't half as attractive as you are."

"So. . ." There was something low and looming in that one syllable that gave Scott the feeling she was about to say 'Checkmate.' "You're admitting you find Logan attractive."

"Fine, you win," he sighed. "Sometimes I hate your brain." Scott rolled on his back. "It doesn't matter. Logan will never agree to this."

"Oh," said Jean, with a cat-that-won-the-chess-match smile. "You leave that part to me."

TBC