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Ana Lyssie Cotton



40 Miles From The Sun

Disclaimer: Marvel owns them. So, apparently, do 20th Century Fox. 
No money is made. PG.
This is for Mitai, whose birthday it was. (July 17!) Fink. 
Didn't tell anyone ahead of time. Le sigh.This is mushy fluff. Beware.


The bike was his pride and joy.

He'd found the body and added the rest of the pieces over time. From the pristine chrome trim to the leather saddle to the special turbo section of the engine, Scott Summers had put his soul into the bike.

When he rode the bike, it was almost a religious experience. Jean liked to tease him as they lay together that the bike was more to his liking than her. His swift response usually silenced her. But there were times he understood her feeling.

Times like when that newcomer, Logan, was around. Jean had had an undeniable attraction to the man, and he hadn't been reticent in letting her know he felt the same. Scott had felt it, then, that sting of jealousy.

Usually, he could ignore it. But then there were days when he couldn't. The two of them -- Jean and Logan -- were closer in age than he and Jean. Logan was probably even older than she was. Scott cursed his lack of years.

And now Logan had disappeared into the wilds of Canada. With his bike.

The irony was too great. He'd wanted the man gone and away from Jean. And yet, he had taken the one other thing Scott was proud of.

"Scott?" Jean called softly. "Come back to bed."

He turned in the window to look back across the moonlit room. "In a moment, Jean."

"What's wrong?" She slipped from between the crisp white sheets and walked calmly over to him.

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing." Her hand reached out to brush the hair off his forehead. "You've got worry lines up here. I can feel them."

"Can't hear my thoughts?"

"I..." She pulled her hand away and turned back to the bed. "No, I can't. I'm not quite that good yet."

Feeling horrible for teasing her when he knew that was a vulnerable spot for her, he stepped forward and caught her arm, pulling her against his chest. "Yes, but you're getting there. You will be that good."

"I will never be as good as the Professor."

"Jean, he's how much older than you?" Scott chuckled. "And you've spent how long doing nothing but trying to block the voices away..."

"True." She turned to face him, her lips twitching. "And there was that whole studying for my doctorate thing. Now, what was bothering you."

"..."

She chuckled. "You're feeling too young again, aren't you? How many times have I told you Scott Summers, a younger man is what ALL women crave." She reached out and caught his face in her hands an leaned up to kiss him gently. "Especially," she kissed the side of his mouth, "one like," the other side, "You."

 


The moon had set, and a soft breeze slipped through the room. Jean Grey leaned back against the pillows and studied Scott as he slept. Even asleep, he slept carefully, as if worried someone would fault him for sprawling. At least she'd broken him of the habit of lying rigid. He'd now curl into her, sometimes even spooning. She sighed softly.

He was so worried he would lose her to someone else. Logan. Jean closed her eyes. The man had been wonderfully virile; any woman young or old would have felt attraction.

It was a sort of animal magnetism. She had felt it, and then realised it was nothing compared to what she felt for Scott.

And now Logan was gone, away on Scott's bike. She shook her head at his temerity. That bike was Scott's pride and joy. He only let the students learn on it because they were all aware of that. And careful.

She smiled. Scott would make a wonderful father, if they had time for such things.

Time. There was never enough of it. Not for training her powers, not for relaxing with Scott. There had been enough to go though medical school. But that was it. No more. Jean curled an arm around Scott and closed her eyes.

But time could wait. For now, she needed sleep if she was to teach in the morning.


~finis~


See? Short and mushy.

hugs, Ana
Gods, I wrote fluff... what's become of me...

 

 

 



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