It's that time again
I've had a breakthrough with the summers_fling assignment after weeks to half-hearted keyboard tapping. Nonplussed by this turn of events, I checked the calendar-- sure enough I've got a midterm and a concept map due in 2 weeks. Nothing like deadlines to make Writer!Muse hop to it.
Of course, as soon as that particular dam broke, so did the Elemental block. Sadly, I'll have the remove one of my favourite past interludes to make room for one that would explain something a pivotal plot-point in Part IV so I'm posting it here.
Warning: Scott/Jean mook
Salem City, New York - 2000
Roses and chocolates weren't Jean's thing, thank God, nor were monthly anniversaries but half a year's worth of not-just-friends-anymore cuddles on the couch was worth acknowledging. Scott knew how much his brothers actually loved it when someone remembered holidays and birthdays; however, in this case, ice cream cake and a trip to the arcade wasn't quite right.
Scott wanted to do this right. With the school going official this September, he didn't know when they'd have free time again.
"I got your message." Jean slipped through the gazebo's west-facing entrance. Candlelight turned her hair into a bonfire with the ends sticking out of a haphazard bun, the kind of up-do that women created with a pencil, a twist of a wrist and a pact with the devil because nothing else could explain how a single pencil could hold up masses of hair like that.
Scott was completely, embarrassingly infatuated with Jean's hair. Where some men instantly took stock of tits, ass, or legs, he focussed instantly on her hair. Jean's hair was very Jean-- lively and brilliant, with a mind of its own that didn't want to be controlled no matter how tightly she pulled her ponytail or how many pins she jabbed in. It wasn't quite a fetish but, he joked with her just last month, he was one hair-flip away from going over the edge.
From then on, every time she flipped her hair and they'd catch each others' eye, he knew they were sharing an in-joke and they'd laugh at each other and everyone else laughed at them or rolled their eyes and it was such a high school bit of inanity that he fell in love with her even more.
"It's a good thing you came when you did," said Scott. "A few more minutes and the fire marshal would've come in."
"It *is* an impressive number of candles."
"Ikea was having a sale. A hundred tea lights for a buck; how do you pass up something like that?"
"The mind boggles," Jean agreed, nodding solemnly. "You could have told me that it was going to be a nice dinner. I still smell like the ER."
"I hadn't noticed. I thought that was just your favourite perfume."
She smacked his shoulder playfully and he pretended to get hurt and there it was again, that high school twittering feeling that he told himself he was allowed to have because he didn't have many crushes in high school, didn't have the time when he had to find a way to pay for Alex's new football uniform and make sure that Adam had a proper lunch and hope that Remy really had been dealing drugs that one time only and...
"Hey." Jean snuggled under his chin. "You're thinking heavy thoughts."
"Skimming my mind again for clues to my little black book?" Scott looped his arms around her shoulders and forced himself to relax.
"Unless you've suddenly started playing for the other team, I don't think I have the right information," she said. "You were thinking about your brothers. All I got was a whiff," she added when he tensed up again.
"They're a... fragrant bunch," was all Scott said. He held her tighter.
"I've heard Warren's horror stories."
The base of Scott's throat buzzed, discomfort at the lack of discomfort he felt every time Warren said something snide about his family. "He might be exaggerating."
"I don't know. From what Alex has told me and a couple home videos from Adam, I have to say Remy's quite a character."
Scott lifted his eyebrows.
"As infuriating and arrogant as he seems to be, those eyes, that grin, that body-- it can take a girl's breath away."
"Oh, really?"
Jean smiled impishly.
Scott's mouth turned down. "When next the opportunity presents itself, remind me to drop a truck on him."
"Scott, I was kidding." Jean gently pushed at his leg.
"A big truck."
"Scott."
"A *really* big truck."
"Scott!"
Breaking his deadpan expression, Scott said, "What are we doing talking about my twerpy little brothers anyway? This is *our* night, probably the last night we're going to have like this for a very long time."
Grinning, Jean slipped out of his embrace but trailed her hand down his arm to hold his hand. "Okay then, Summers, let's see your spread."
"That's better. I'll have you know I spent hours over a hot phone calling every gourmet take-out place in the area."
"Our poor kids will subsist on cereal and microwaveable pizza pockets," Jean said.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Uh..." Her eyes shifted every where but front and centre. Scott could only guess that Jean went as red as her hair; subtleties in colour escaped him because of the glasses. "I didn't mean that... I know it's too early and... I mean, not that I wouldn't want your kids; I'm sure they'd be great but I just... boy, is it awkward in here or is it just me?"
Clearly, ignoring the faux pas would be the best solution. Scott quickly pulled out a chair, bowing slightly at the waist. "Après vous, ma'amselle."
"Merci beaucoup," said Jean, recovering nicely. Before he could slip to his side of the table, she placed her hand on his forearm. "This is really nice, Scott. Thank you."
To hell with what was dignified or not. Scott revelled in the fluttery feeling in his stomach. "You're welcome."
Of course, as soon as that particular dam broke, so did the Elemental block. Sadly, I'll have the remove one of my favourite past interludes to make room for one that would explain something a pivotal plot-point in Part IV so I'm posting it here.
Warning: Scott/Jean mook
Salem City, New York - 2000
Roses and chocolates weren't Jean's thing, thank God, nor were monthly anniversaries but half a year's worth of not-just-friends-anymore cuddles on the couch was worth acknowledging. Scott knew how much his brothers actually loved it when someone remembered holidays and birthdays; however, in this case, ice cream cake and a trip to the arcade wasn't quite right.
Scott wanted to do this right. With the school going official this September, he didn't know when they'd have free time again.
"I got your message." Jean slipped through the gazebo's west-facing entrance. Candlelight turned her hair into a bonfire with the ends sticking out of a haphazard bun, the kind of up-do that women created with a pencil, a twist of a wrist and a pact with the devil because nothing else could explain how a single pencil could hold up masses of hair like that.
Scott was completely, embarrassingly infatuated with Jean's hair. Where some men instantly took stock of tits, ass, or legs, he focussed instantly on her hair. Jean's hair was very Jean-- lively and brilliant, with a mind of its own that didn't want to be controlled no matter how tightly she pulled her ponytail or how many pins she jabbed in. It wasn't quite a fetish but, he joked with her just last month, he was one hair-flip away from going over the edge.
From then on, every time she flipped her hair and they'd catch each others' eye, he knew they were sharing an in-joke and they'd laugh at each other and everyone else laughed at them or rolled their eyes and it was such a high school bit of inanity that he fell in love with her even more.
"It's a good thing you came when you did," said Scott. "A few more minutes and the fire marshal would've come in."
"It *is* an impressive number of candles."
"Ikea was having a sale. A hundred tea lights for a buck; how do you pass up something like that?"
"The mind boggles," Jean agreed, nodding solemnly. "You could have told me that it was going to be a nice dinner. I still smell like the ER."
"I hadn't noticed. I thought that was just your favourite perfume."
She smacked his shoulder playfully and he pretended to get hurt and there it was again, that high school twittering feeling that he told himself he was allowed to have because he didn't have many crushes in high school, didn't have the time when he had to find a way to pay for Alex's new football uniform and make sure that Adam had a proper lunch and hope that Remy really had been dealing drugs that one time only and...
"Hey." Jean snuggled under his chin. "You're thinking heavy thoughts."
"Skimming my mind again for clues to my little black book?" Scott looped his arms around her shoulders and forced himself to relax.
"Unless you've suddenly started playing for the other team, I don't think I have the right information," she said. "You were thinking about your brothers. All I got was a whiff," she added when he tensed up again.
"They're a... fragrant bunch," was all Scott said. He held her tighter.
"I've heard Warren's horror stories."
The base of Scott's throat buzzed, discomfort at the lack of discomfort he felt every time Warren said something snide about his family. "He might be exaggerating."
"I don't know. From what Alex has told me and a couple home videos from Adam, I have to say Remy's quite a character."
Scott lifted his eyebrows.
"As infuriating and arrogant as he seems to be, those eyes, that grin, that body-- it can take a girl's breath away."
"Oh, really?"
Jean smiled impishly.
Scott's mouth turned down. "When next the opportunity presents itself, remind me to drop a truck on him."
"Scott, I was kidding." Jean gently pushed at his leg.
"A big truck."
"Scott."
"A *really* big truck."
"Scott!"
Breaking his deadpan expression, Scott said, "What are we doing talking about my twerpy little brothers anyway? This is *our* night, probably the last night we're going to have like this for a very long time."
Grinning, Jean slipped out of his embrace but trailed her hand down his arm to hold his hand. "Okay then, Summers, let's see your spread."
"That's better. I'll have you know I spent hours over a hot phone calling every gourmet take-out place in the area."
"Our poor kids will subsist on cereal and microwaveable pizza pockets," Jean said.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Uh..." Her eyes shifted every where but front and centre. Scott could only guess that Jean went as red as her hair; subtleties in colour escaped him because of the glasses. "I didn't mean that... I know it's too early and... I mean, not that I wouldn't want your kids; I'm sure they'd be great but I just... boy, is it awkward in here or is it just me?"
Clearly, ignoring the faux pas would be the best solution. Scott quickly pulled out a chair, bowing slightly at the waist. "Après vous, ma'amselle."
"Merci beaucoup," said Jean, recovering nicely. Before he could slip to his side of the table, she placed her hand on his forearm. "This is really nice, Scott. Thank you."
To hell with what was dignified or not. Scott revelled in the fluttery feeling in his stomach. "You're welcome."