Disclaimer- I don't own the X-Men. They belong to Marvel Comics.
Mutant High Episode 3- "Shades of Red"
Chapter 4
"We must look like we're dating," said Jean, as she and Remy took their seats.
"You're not really worried about what these people think, are you?" Remy asked. Jean shrugged in response.
"It's not that I'm worried… it's just that usually when a guy and a girl are alone, together like this…"
"First of all, we can't be alone and together, that's impossible."
"You're impossible."
Jean put her bags on the floor, save for the plastic one she had just received from the sushi stand. The Farmer's Market, no more than ten minutes from Westchester High, was an eclectic smorgasbord of family owned businesses, with foods from every corner of the world available. Jean delicately ripped a packed of soy sauce while Remy unwrapped his soft pretzel.
"That looks healthy," Jean mocked.
"Well it's not. But it's delicious, dammit. Fuckin' delicious." Remy punctuated the point by aggressively biting a chunk from the pretzel, which he chewed and swallowed voraciously.
"Wanna bite?"
"I'd rather not, thanks."
Jean pinched a salmon roll in her chopsticks, carefully biting the roll in half. She was amazed by how different the two of them were. Even the way they ate reflected it.
"People never think we're dating," he told her, a sticky wad of pretzel dough still being ground in his mouth.
"Pardon?"
"People never think Scott and I are dating. You were saying that people think it about a guy and a girl, but they never think it for two guys."
"I… I guess they wouldn't."
"People don't like to look at things below the surface. But I think you'd know about that, with your reading minds and everything. People are more than they seem."
Jean nodded, and took another bite of her sushi. She wasn't quite sure what to say.
"What do you think of me?"
Jean choked as the sushi promptly went down the wrong tube, and she began to hack uncontrollably.
"Oh shit, you alright Jean? Hey, hold tight, I'll get you a water, or something." Remy popped out of his seat and strolled over to the nearest food stand. Pushing through the line, he eventually returned to Jean with a plastic cup, half filled with water.
"You know it's illegal for them to charge for tap water?" He told her as he handed her the cup. Jean gulped the drink heavily.
"Thanks. And no, I had no idea."
Remy sat down.
"And I think you're an asshole."
"Wha?" Remy looked taken aback.
"You asked me what I think about you, Remy, and I think you're a jerk. A douchebag."
Remy sat there, absorbing Jean's words. She responded by starting another roll, dipping it gingerly in the sauce before she brought the roll to her lips.
"Why?"
"Because. You're rude. You have no regard for the rules of society."
"And because I'm fucking Scott."
Jean sputtered. "What? No, that's not true!"
"You're right," Remy acknowledged with a smirk. Jean looked confused. "I said you're right, it's not true. Me fucking Scott that is." Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned in, bringing his face close to Jean's. "If you want the truth, he usually fucks me."
Jean slapped Remy. She slapped him hard.
"I am not your problem, Jean. Gimme a chance. I'm not that bad. I give good back massages, I'm told."
"I forgot to care."
"Come on." Remy reached into his messenger bag, rummaging around in the side pocket, before producing a tattered cardboard box. "I'll do you."
"I thought you preferred to 'get done'."
"No! I mean your cards, Jean. You ever have you tarot read?"
"You read tarot cards?"
"Yeah. You're not the only psychic in the mutant club."
Jean stared at him, incredulous.
"Oh, and you have rice on your shirt."
"I have to use the bathroom," Jean declared. She got up from the table, flicking the grains of rice from her tight fitted turtleneck.
Jean had no idea where the Farmer's Market bathroom was, but she didn't care, so long as she was far away from Remy. Jean was lost whenever it came to interacting with him. She was still unsure as to what convinced her to accompany him to lunch.
Or at least that's what she told herself. Deep down, she knew why she was drawn to Remy LeBeau. Even though looking at them, they couldn't be more different, deep down; they were very much the same.
Meanwhile, Remy had just finished swallowing the last of his pretzel and was left with a sudden feeling of emptiness, which he assumed to be in his stomach. Jean had two and a half rolls of sushi left, so he grabbed one and began to munch on it as he thought.
Jean Grey was one of the least complicated things that had ever happened to Remy LeBeau. She was almost comically vulnerable—everything about her was on the surface. She couldn't give Scott up, plain and simple. The way she interacted with him, the way she carried herself, even her short red hair—was all because of Scott.
Remy didn't blame her. Scott was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Remy had a reputation, sure, but he had never been with another man until he had approached Scott six months ago. Their first kiss had been awkward, and unsure.
It had been in Remy's basement, a stoner heaven, of sort, with dim Christmas lights pricking the ceiling with light and large, tie-dyed cloths draped over sections of the outdated wooden paneling. Remy had spent many nights in that basement with Rogue, where they would put a bottle or bowl between them and cry about how alone they felt.
Scott hadn't wanted to drink or smoke, and Remy, for once, didn't either. It happened slowly, the kiss, and once it was done, the ice was broken.
It wasn't just the physical relationship with Scott that he loved, though. Scott was Remy's opposite, yet he balanced him out. Remy's wild rebellion was tamed by Scott's strict, regimented way of being. But when Remy ran, Scott always followed.
Absorbed in his daydream, Remy was brought back to the present as he watched the line at the deli, where an elderly woman was screaming violently about the service to the young cashier, no older than his early twenties. Visibly frustrated, he turned away from the counter. The elderly woman scoffed.
"Can you believe the nerve of him, walking away from a customer? I have never been this outraged," She bitched to the girl behind her.
"I'm sure," responded the girl.
And then it clicked. Remy knew the girl, her sleek black hair and porcelain features.
He pulled away from the table, making haste towards the woman's restroom. He stormed in, which caused a middle aged woman to respond by screaming at him about his perversions. Remy ignored her.
"JEAN? JEAN!" No response. Remy turned out of the bathroom only to collide with the girl he had been looking for.
"Men's room is over there, Remy," she spat.
"Jean, she's here."
"Oh, you don't say. Is that supposed to mean something?"
"It's the girl. The one from the fight at school. The one—"
"Who fucked up Scott," Jean finished. "Shit. What do you think we should do?"
"Rip her hair out and make her eat it."
"For once, I think we're on the same page."