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Fic: Baby's Got a Brand New Toy (PG, S/J)

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  • loonylittlewitch
    Title: Baby s Got a Brand New Toy Author: Lisea (loonylittlewitch@yahoo.com) Website: Http://www.angelfire.com/de2/TTO Disclaimer: Not mine, someone else s,
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 20, 2002
      Title: Baby's Got a Brand New Toy
      Author: Lisea (loonylittlewitch@...)
      Website: Http://www.angelfire.com/de2/TTO
      Disclaimer: Not mine, someone else's, yadda yadda yadda...
      Rating: PG
      Pairing: S/J
      Summary: Jean's thoughts on the man she loves.
      Thanks to: Henrietta, my beta!


      Usually, my Saturdays start at around 8 in the morning. I go to the
      lab downstairs, with my sandwich and cup of coffee in my hands, to
      work on whatever I haven't had time to finish that week, and stay
      there well into the afternoons. My Mondays start at 6 am, and then I
      have to drag myself out of bed to take a quick shower before I get
      ready for class. And my Sundays?

      They're my personal heaven.

      God help the poor soul who will try to get me out of bed before noon
      on Sundays.

      The room I share with Scott is on the north side, so it's one of the
      coolest at noon. After long, cold nights it just perfect to tug the
      blankets under your chin and curl yourself up, relish the warm bed,
      Scott's familiar scent around me, and the coolness in the room. Plus
      I get the whole bed all to myself.

      Scott goes jogging around the lake every morning. And I do mean every
      morning. The man gets up at five, does a few rounds, comes back
      around half past six, takes a shower, changes and goes off to find
      himself some breakfast.

      He knows how much I love to sleep, so he makes sure to be quiet,
      never wakes me up when he disappears in the morning, or comes back to
      shower, maybe slip back in the bed with me. And if he does wake me
      up, I can always expect the breakfast served in bed later.

      This Sunday, I'm curled up under the warm blankets. Scott's and mine
      both, I'm greedy. I drift back into conciousness from delicious,
      black, dreamless sleep, and slowly become aware of the shower falcet
      being turned off. A soft voice of fabric, probably a towel, then
      quiet, barefooted steps. When the door opens I close my eyes quickly,
      pretending to be asleep.

      I feel him stepping up to the bed, leaning over to check whether or
      not I'm still asleep. I hear him let out a disappointed sigh, and he
      turns and walks over to a drawer. I crack an eye open and watch him
      pull the towel from his waist, throws it absently on the back of a
      chair. There's our full-size mirror in front of him, so I get an
      excellent view of his gorgeous body.

      He freezes for a half a second, then turns to face me. I close my
      eyes again, hope I can fool him. He pulls on the black boxers he's
      taken out of the drawer, then comes to sit on the edge of the
      bed. "Jean? You awake?"

      I hold perfectly still, and suddenly realize how hot it is under two
      blankets. I feel him leaning in, holds his face about ten inches away
      from mine, and I can just barely feel his breath against my face.
      He's watching me intently, waiting for any signs that will give me

      Clever little demon.

      I feel my lips curl up. Actress, I'm not.

      He leans in even closer, now only a few inches from my face, and I
      burst into laughter. When I open my eyes, he's smiling at me,
      obviously proud of himself. "Busted."

      He finally leans in and kisses me, ever so sweet and gentle. When he
      pulls up, he gives me a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Are you getting
      up soon?"

      I pull the blankets over my head. "No."

      I don't think for a minute he'd leave it at that. "Get up, Jeannie."
      He pokes his finger at my side.


      "Fine" He gets off the bed, sits again by my feet, yanks the blanket
      off my feet, and before I can pull them in again, he grabs my ankle
      and tugs it under his arm. I pull the blankets off over my head, look
      at him. "Oh, no, don't you dare!"

      He gives me a coy smile, and runs his finger lightly along the side
      of my foot. I squirm. He smiles even more at my reaction and moves
      his fingers at the arch of my foot. "So?"

      I smack him over the head with a pillow.

      He retaliates by tickling my foot mercilessly. I try to get my foot
      free, but he's got a firm grip on it, I don't even have a chance.

      After a minute, he stops and turns his face to me, still keeping his
      fingers at the arch of my foot. "Well, Ms. Grey?"

      "You're Evil."

      "Do you want me to start again?" he lifts my foot just a little, as
      if getting ready for round two.

      "No" I whimper. I laughed so hard my eyes have teared up. He leans
      over and kisses away the spilt tears rolling on my cheeks. "Good.
      Now, get up and dressed. We're going somewhere."

      I sit up against the wooden headboard, stretch my arms up over my
      head. "Going where?"

      He smiles at me, walks over to the closet, takes out my favorite
      dress, short and light, white with little blue flowers, and hands it
      to me. "Somewhere. There's something I need to show you."

      Curious, I get myself up and pull the dress over my head, let it
      slide over me. "You're not gonna tell me."


      "Hmph" I go past him, into the bathroom, brush my teeth and put on my
      makeup, tie my hair on a loose braid. By the time I get out, he's
      dressed in a black, tight t-shirt and black pants, leaning against
      the bedpost, juggling his keys. He's got his car keys, the mansion
      keys and the keys to the front gate and garages. He keeps all three
      keyrings separate, but never looses them. I, on the other hand, would
      loose my head if it wasn't attached to my shoulders.

      "Ready?" his voice shakes me away from my thoughts and the hypnotic
      movement of the keys and his hands. I nod, and he opens the door for


      "So you're still not telling me where we're going?" I ask him, watch
      him turn his face towards me, gives me a smile.

      "We're almost there. Three minutes."

      "That's what my mom always used to say. It was always another three
      hours" I roll the window down some more, trying to catch whatever
      cool breeze wants to come my away.

      "Hot?" he asks me, adjusting the air contioner in the car.

      "Very. But I'm fine" I smile at him, before turning my attention to
      the road. Mirages keep appearing on the road, and the oily stuff they
      use to patch up the roads are sticking to the tires of the car in
      front of us. It's midday, and it's 90 F. I need to have a long talk
      with Ro when she gets back.

      Scott hands me a bottle of water. "Drink. You look like you need it."

      "Thanks" I didn't know I had, but he was right. I drink half of it,
      then press the cool bottle against my forehead. "God, that's so

      I hand him the bottle after a moment, he drinks the last half of the
      water inside it, tosses the empty bottle on the backseat. He turns
      the car into a parking lot. I see new, shiny cars in neat rows all
      over the 'better side' of the parking lot. I look at Scott.

      "You're bying a new car?!"

      He has a few. Three, in fact. Well, not really his, but the
      Professor's. So technically his.

      "I've already bought it. Just need to drive it home."

      "So that's what I'm here for? To drive this back?" I say, vaguely
      moving my hand to point the car. He turns his head, smiles at me.

      "No. I'm taking you for a drive, little girl" he says with a wicked,
      melt-my-insides grin, and gets out of the car. It takes me a while
      for his words to sink in, or more accurately, the double meaning of

      When I finally get out, I see Scott talking to Bobby at the entrance
      to the store. Bobby's standing on the pavement, barefooted, with a
      pair of roller skates in his hand. Scott gives him the car keys, and
      Bobby moves towards our car, and me, as I'm leaning on the roof of
      the car with my arms.

      "Hi, Ms. Grey" he greets me cheerfully.

      "Hi, Bobby" I smile at him.

      "What's this, third?" he asks me, throws his roller skates on the
      back seat, with the empty water bottle. He grabs the bottle as I
      answer him.

      "Fourth. This was the third" I pat on the roof of our black car.

      He hands me the bottle. "Here, you might need this."

      I take it from his hands, surprised to see solid ice inside, even a
      little frost on the outside.

      "You might need to wait till it melts, but at least it'll be cold" he
      says, sits behind the wheel.

      "Thank you, Bobby, you're an angel" I say, and sigh blissfully as I
      press the bottle against the back of my neck. Bobby starts the engine
      and pulls away from the parking lot, turns towards the town. I walk
      over to Scott, and the salesperson next to him. The man gives Scott
      some papers and the car keys, then heads back inside to another

      I follow Scott into the backyard, where he finds his new toy, and I
      swear, if it was anyone other than Scott, I'd expect him to do a

      "Well, what do you think?" He opens the passenger door for me. I look
      at the red hood of the car through the windshield as I sit down.

      "I never thought you'd go for red, Scott" I glance at him, and re-
      think what I've just said. He leans in and kisses my cheek.

      "Oh, I'm very, very into red" he whispers in my ear and runs his hand
      along my inner thigh. I blush, and he stands up from where he's knelt
      on the ground beside my seat and shuts my door.

      Scott opens the back door and I look over my shoulder as he tosses
      our water bottle on the back seat. The door opens backwards.
      Backwards, for Pete's sake. Weird. But if there's something I've
      learned about Scott, is that he never goes for anything too normal,
      too ordinary. God knows what he's planning on doing to the engine.

      He goes over to the driver's side, opens the door and slide into his
      new leather seat. Before he shuts his door, I catch him running his
      hand over the steering wheel in awe. So, I've got competition.

      As if his second bike, his previous three cars or the others in the
      carage, or the Blackbird isn't enough.

      I chuckle softly at his actions, he glances over to me and gives me a
      quizzing look. "What? She's beautiful."

      As I said.


      I lean my elbow on the door, on the fully opened window, and watch
      him drive. The way his feet push down on the pedals, or his hand on
      the gear stick, or the other on the steering wheel. His fingers move
      a little, as if saving the feel of the car into his memory. I'd be
      tempted to say he never touches me like that.

      Except he does.

      He's taking me to a ice-cream kiosk by a bridge over a lake. He knows
      I love that place. Or rather, what they serve. He pulls up to the
      small parking lot, gets out and over to open the door for me like the
      gentleman he is, and tells me to wait here as he goes to the little
      kiosk. I look down to the lake a few hundred feet below me, and a
      little white boat sailing on it.

      "Here" he says a while later from behind me, offering me my favorite
      treat (next to Scott himself).

      Three balls of ice-cream, in chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla, in a
      honest-to-god waffle bed, and butterscotch sauce that's near illegal.

      I make little whimpering noices as I put the first spoonful in my
      mouth and walk over to a bench overseeing the lake. I hear Scott
      chuckling behind me as he joins me on the bench, lets me lean my back
      against his chest. I lean against him, and put my feet up on the
      railing over the cliff, enjoy my ice-cream as slowly as possible,
      while he enjoys his own chocolate ice-cream cone behind me. The cool
      breeze from the lake makes the heatwave blissfully bareable.

      When I've finished off my treat, he takes me down, under the bridge,
      along a narrow path not many people know of. When we found it, almost
      a year ago, Scott had to blast a few saplings out of our way.

      He sits on a rock on the shore, while I sit to face him on a support
      beam's concrete platform, which is only a foot away from the shore. I
      take my shoes off and wet my feet in the little river of water
      between us. He's too much of a chicken to do the same.

      "I heard Logan came back today" he says quietly. I can feel him tense
      up as he waits my answer.

      "He did. I was at the front yard when he showed up."

      "How do you feel about him?"

      I don't like this conversation one bit.

      "Something you want to ask me, Scott?"

      "I shouldn't have to, but..." he's looking at my feet, avoiding to
      look me in the eyes.

      "You're going to anyway?"

      "Do I have something to worry about?" he asks me after a long moment
      of silence, looks me in the eyes, expecting to get an honest answer.
      I reach out my hand and cup his cheek.

      "No, Scott. You don't have anything to worry about. I'm not
      interested in him."

      Well, that's not exactly true. I am interested. And Scott knows that
      too, so I'll have to take that back and refrase it before he gets too

      "Alright, he is interesting, but not in the way you think. I wouldn't
      give up what you and I have just to roll in the hay with him for one
      night, or a few. I'd loose you, and that's a price I'm not willing to

      He gives me a faint smile, he knows I meant what I said. He takes my
      hand, holds it over his heart. "Is it something in me? Why you're
      interested in him? Am I lacking something?"

      Sometimes, Scott Summers, you deserve a slap in your face.

      Instead, I put my hands on his cheeks, run my thumbs over his

      "No, Summers, you're not lacking anything" I say, stare intently into
      his eyes, even though I can't see them through the shades. I'll never
      be able to see them. "You've got something he lacks. Stability.
      Security. Safety. I couldn't sleep next to a man if I'd have to worry
      I might find his claws through my chest one morning. I've never been
      scared of you, Scott, or of sleeping next to you. I trust you. Always

      He looks down at my feet again. "I just thought you'd find me boring.
      Compared to him" he leans in and kisses me. "But I trust you, too. I
      won't ask you this again."

      "Good. Now, how about giving me the ride you promised?" I wink at him
      and kiss him again.

      Every time he buys himself a new car, he drives it a little too fast.
      Tests the engine, he says.

      And I go along to help him test the backseat.


      Dedicated to Scott's new Mazda! :-)
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