Fic: Underneath It All (8/?)
May. 12th, 2006 02:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fembuckTitle: Underneath It All
Pairing: Jean Grey/Emma Frost
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, though I do covet them.
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Part 8
The next day
Emma lazily walked up behind Jean, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look at the picture the redhead was looking at, her mouth close Jean’s ear as she spoke. “That would look lovely on the wall next to your window,” she said softly, her eyes focused forward on the oil canvas painting hanging in a beautiful and elegant wooden frame.
“We already have a picture there,” Jean replied quietly, her voice almost a whisper as she struggled not to jerk back and place some distance between Emma and herself. The blonde was standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth of her body through her jacket. It reminded her of standing in the bushes with Emma hiding from Ororo like teenagers who’d missed curfew because they were necking in the back of an X-Terra all night and she didn’t want to be thinking about necking anywhere when she was near Emma.
Emma shuddered slightly behind Jean as she recalled the ‘picture’ in question. “That, my dear, is not so much art as an offence to good taste,” the blonde replied finally take a step back and moving around Jean so that she was standing beside her. “Just because it’s in a frame it doesn’t imbue it with any actual artistic qualities. Caciocavallo Podolico and Velveeta might both be classified as cheese, but make no mistake they belong in two entirely different categories,” she continued with a long suffering sigh as she once again tortured herself by imaging the framed picture of ‘Snoopy’s Last Supper’ that hung in the Summers’ bedroom.
Jean smiled, “So … the Snoopy one is the Velveeta, right?” she asked her smile growing as Emma glared at her before sighing wearily. There was something so delightful about pushing the blonde’s buttons that if she could get paid for it Jean might’ve taken it up as a full time job.
~They say a picture is worth a thousand words~ Emma sent to her telepathically a moment later before projecting an image of the Snoopy picture in question on fire, intense frames maliciously licking the corners of the picture until it was nothing but a charred husk.
~That was a little harsh~ But the redhead was smiling as replied to Emma. The picture had been Scott’s touch at decorating, and while she had nothing against ‘Peanuts’ she had never really been thrilled with its addition to the room.
“Perhaps,” Emma agreed out loud turning to the eye the Charles Gaul print that Jean had been studying. “But you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t rather wake up to the sight of ‘Flowering Magnolia’ in the morning than a cartoon dog in aviator goggles.”
Jean looked longingly at the picture for a moment longer before shaking her head. “I can’t,” she said finally. As much as she liked the picture and thought that it would have added to the atmosphere of the room, she didn’t want to start changing the room and getting rid of the few touches of himself that Scott had bothered to add. It just seemed wrong on some level to get rid of it while he wasn’t around.
“Yes, well, I can,” Emma replied lifting her hand to wave one of the sales people over. She had a rather good idea why Jean was hesitant to buy the picture and didn’t share the redhead’s concerns in the least. Her bastard husband could just deal with the loss of his crappy artwork when he came slinking home.
“Emma,” Jean began to protest watching the blonde as she tracked the sales person progress over to them. “I …”
“Mentioned that you needed a new bedside table,” Emma cut in smoothly. “I’ve made up my mind about the picture so there’s really no point in trying to talk me out of it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I can be quite stubborn about things,” she continued meeting Jean’s eyes. “There was some nice bedroom furniture in the room on the left,” she went on as the sales person reached them. “I’ll meet you over there.”
“I…” Jean started again.
“Exceedingly, abrasively stubborn,” Emma interjected once more her eyes still on Jean as she motioned absently to the picture she wanted for the saleswoman. “The frame as well,” she added when the woman began to move towards the portrait.
“Emma!” Jean exclaimed. The frame was old mahogany with an intricate yet delicate hand craved design. She couldn’t see the price tag on it, but based on some of the other frames of similar age and quality she knew that it had to cost close to three-hundred dollars.
“We’ve covered this, dear,” Emma replied turning her attention back to the redhead at her exclamation. “It’s becoming rather tedious,” she continued before softening her voice. “I want to,” she went on holding Jean’s gaze. “Just smile and make my day.”
Jean did just that, her lips curving completely of their own will. The present was, she thought, far too extravagant, especially considering that Emma had treated her to a very fine dinner not two days earlier. But she knew that to repeatedly refuse a gift could be just as rude and begging for one, and if she were to be completely honest with herself it felt rather nice to have someone pampering her. If Emma wanted to, she’d let her. After all, the blonde had hardly been joking about being ridiculously stubborn when it came to getting her way.
“Splendid,” Emma responded nodding towards the saleswoman who had stopped taking the picture down during the exchange unsure whether she need go to all the trouble. “Go, peruse,” she continued waving her hand about vaguely. “I’ll find you,” she finished tapping her temple playfully.
---
Jean shivered slightly wrapping her jacket more tightly around her as they walked down the small town’s crowded main street. Although the store Emma had brought her to had had some lovely bedroom furniture she hadn’t seen anything that would fit into the current layout of her room, and despite Emma’s insistence that there was nothing stopping her from changing the layout so that they did fit, they left the store without any purchases other than the painting and frame.
Having a destination in the mind they hadn’t really dilly dallied about when they arrived in town earlier that morning, but when they had finished with the antique store Jean had expressed an interest in exploring the town some. There were quite a few interesting looking shops around, and there was a pleasant, homey atmosphere that she felt like being immersed in for a while longer.
Jean jerked slightly as she felt Emma place her hand on her shoulder, forcing herself to relax a second later.
“You’re shivering again,” Emma said softly wrapping her arm around Jean using her hands to rub at her arms for a moment. “You’re terribly sensitive to the cold aren’t you?” she asked continuing her gentle warming motions, the question designed more to distract them both from what she was doing then a genuine inquiry because she wasn’t quite sure what had prompted her to rub down the redhead like a shivering three year old who’d just gotten out of the bath, and she didn’t want to be asked about it.
“I suppose I haven’t fully adjusted to the change of season yet,” Jean replied leaning into Emma’s body seeking the other woman’s warmth. She’d adjusted to the cold somewhat, but the feelings of warmth where Emma’s hands were seemed to be making the parts of her that weren’t being touched by the blonde seem so much colder.
“Well,” Emma drawled allowing the increased contact Jean initiated without comment. She had started it after all. “I don’t seem to be doing a very good job of warming you up,” she continued as another small shiver ran through Jean’s body. “It’s probably because, according to the rumor mill, my internal temperature is somewhere below sub-zero.”
Jean frowned at the comment. It was said lightly and she knew was intended to be amusing, but she didn’t think it was particularly funny.
“I think you’re doing an admirable job,” Jean responded. “I appreciate the effort.”
“Thank you, but I never cared much for participation badges,” Emma related turning her head to face Jean, their faces so close that the blonde’s breath caused the redhead’s hair to flutter slightly.
Jean shivered again.
“Are you going to find a way to warm me up even if it kills you?” Jean asked trying to ignore the brief flutter in her stomach as she felt Emma’s warm breath caress her forehead and the fact that her answering shiver had nothing to do with the cold that time.
“I don’t think all that will be necessary,” Emma said softly dropping her arm from around Jean and bringing it back to her own side, the backs of their hands brushing momentarily before Emma grasped Jean’s hand in her own and tugged. “I do have a question of great import to ask you however,” she continued as she led Jean by the hand across the street.
“And that would be?” Jean asked allowing herself to be pulled behind Emma like a giant Raggedly Anne doll.
“Do you prefer marshmallows or whipped cream?”
Jean blinked, rather thrown by the question for a moment before finally turning her gaze towards the direction they were moving in. There was an independent and rather quaint looking coffee shop a few meters away.
“It doesn’t matter,” Emma continued when Jean didn’t respond. “I suppose you can always have both. After all, if you’re going to give into temptation it’s best to go all the way and be completely satisfied,” she went on biting her plump bottom lip lightly before her lips curved sensuously up in a smile that could only be described as a lascivious.
Jean licked her lips, her eyes focused on the suggestive smirk on Emma’s full lips. As she watched, Emma’s tongue peaked out to wet her own lips and Jean felt her heart beat sharply spike for a few seconds. Blinking against the unsettling feeling, Jean averted her eyes from Emma’s. She actually wasn’t feeling cold at all anymore.
“Well, after that display, this place better make one hell of a cup of hot chocolate,” the redhead finally said forcing an amused – she hoped – smile on to her face. It wasn’t the wittiest response she had ever made, but at the moment she wasn’t as concerned with dazzling Emma with her verbal magic as she was with simply getting her mind off of her unexpected reaction to Emma’s flirting.
---
Emma turned her head away from the young men playing football in the park. Despite growing up in New England she’d never really cared much for the game. She was far more interested in the woman standing at her side. Jean had spotted the game going on as they exited a clothing store and led them over to watch in a way that Emma assumed the redhead had intended to seem unintentional.
Deciding not to feign interest in the boys pummeling each other any longer she focused her attention on Jean, watching the way her eyes tracked the action intensely, her lips curving slightly when the team she’d decided to cheer for did well, and then the way she kind of pouted when they made a mistake. She was so every earnest, Emma thought, so very earnest in everything that she did. Emma usually considered such openness a weakness, but surprisingly she found Jean’s lack of guile extremely attractive.
She had to fight the urge to reach out and touch the redhead again. She’d had the urge to be near Jean all day and had had varying degrees of success trying to ignore the impulse. She supposed it was because she could still remember the feeling of the redhead in her arms on the night of Jean’s anniversary. Jean had felt oddly small in her arms and it had inspired some rather usual feeling of tenderness and protectiveness within her that she hadn’t been able to shake. It was rather annoying really, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
Emma noted that the redhead had seemed to forget about the cold as she became preoccupied with the game, leaving her hand exposed. The blonde telepath pulled her hand out of her jacket pocket taking advantage of the redhead’s preoccupation and allowing the back of it to brush against Jean’s, leaving their hands in contact once she had touched her. As their hands touched Emma turned her eyes back towards the game, pretending to follow it. A moment later she could see Jean turn her head to look at her out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t respond to the questioning movement. She simply continued to stare forward as if she hadn’t noticed.
Jean turned back to the game a second later without withdrawing her hand.
“I’m sure there’s some sort of strategy to the way their ramming into each other like rhinoceros’s in mating season but I can’t see it,” Emma commented a moment later sounding bored as one of the boys in question was sent flying backwards after getting slammed into by a member of the opposing team.
“Oh, I’ll admit there’s a lot of unnecessary battering that takes place, but there’s actually quite a bit of strategy involved,” Jean responded wincing slightly as the boy who had just been run into staggered to his feet. “I’m not an expert or anything, but I think they’re set up in a …”
Emma tuned out what Jean was saying because she didn’t care. She did however remain looking at the redhead as she spoke. She was sure it appeared to Jean as if she were paying rapt attention to what she was saying, but really Emma was studying her again.
Jean looked even paler than usual because of the cold, but her cheeks held a perpetual flush to them that Emma thought was quite charming and sexy in a way. She’d always thought that Jean Grey was an attractive woman, but it had never really meant much to her before. She’d been thinking it more and more over the past couple of days however. Since their evening out she’d found herself paying considerably more attention to the redhead.
“Your hand feels like ice,” Emma said interrupting whatever it was Jean had been saying, surprising the redhead by speaking.
“What? Oh,” Jean exclaimed looking down at their now joined hands. “I hadn’t noticed,” she continued her eyes focused on Emma’s hands as they rubbed hers in an attempt to warm them.
“Clearly not,” Emma replied pausing in her ministrations for a moment. She’d had more physical contact with Jean over the past three days than she’d had in the three months that she’d been at the mansion. “Would you like to head back now?” she asked a moment later already knowing that the redhead would turn down the offer.
“Not quite yet,” Jean said her attention momentarily turning back towards the game. “They’re almost finished,” she went on looking at Emma once more. “You don’t mind do you?”
“Not at all,” Emma responded her eyes tracking back towards the boys on the field. “It would be rather like stopping a book in last chapter,” she went on allowing their hands to fall between their bodies once more though she remained holding Jean’s afterwards.
If Jean wanted to stay she would just have to do her best to keep her warm.
“Rather,” Jean agreed looking down at their joined hands. She had expected Emma to release her hand but the blonde was watching the game again almost as if she had forgotten Jean’s hand was in hers. Jean however was painfully aware of the feel of the blonde’s hand against her own. Emma’s hand felt pleasantly warm in her own and she was unnerved by how much she was enjoying the innocent contact.
Jean looked over at the blonde seriously debating the best way to nonchalantly remove her hand.
Emma released a puff of air as Jean looked at her, watching her breath condense and float away like smoke, before repeating the action once more. It was a rather childish thing to do and was not something she would normally do, but she knew that it would grab Jean’s attention.
Jean watched as Emma entertained herself with her own breath for a moment, lifting an amused eyebrow when the blonde focused on her once again.
“Frosty.” the blonde commented smirking.
Jean laughed and then lapsed into an amused smile before turning her attention back to the game. She felt Emma’s thumb graze against her knuckles a moment later as the blonde shifted her grip on her hand but she wasn’t as unnerved by the blonde’s touch as she had been a few moments before. The blonde’s little display of silliness had somehow undone some of the unease she had felt and forced herself to relax and just enjoy the moment of peace and companionship. Obviously Emma didn’t think it was strange to be holding her hand that way, and it was rather harmless. Besides, she supposed that receiving casual touches from Emma Frost was not something that happened very often, and since her hand really did feel much better since Emma had taken it she could as well just appreciate the rare treat.
When she was reasonably certain Jean was preoccupied with the game once more Emma glanced down at their joined hands. Jean’s skin looked so soft she wanted to stroke it with her fingers but she reined the urge in. It was a silly impulse anyway. She was already holding hands with the redhead like they were at a High School homecoming game and she wasn’t going to make things even more ridiculous by molesting the redheads hand. Besides Jean might’ve removed the appendage if she’d started to practically make love to it in public and even though she didn’t really want to, she was enjoying the simple contact.
Emma bit down on her lip as an aggravated sigh began to come out of her mouth. She was Emma Frost, she was the former fucking White Queen of the Hellfire club. She was a goddamn ridiculously gorgeous millionaire and she was worried about the reaction a milquetoast schoolteacher would have to her putting the moves on her. She couldn’t even really believe that she wanted to put the moves on her. She’d never been so disgusted with herself.
“Do you enjoy jazz?”
Jean blinked and turned to regard Emma who seemed to be delighting in throwing her completely off balance. At least she assumed the blonde must have been enjoying it since she’d been doing it all day.
“Yeah,” Jean replied slowly as if expecting Emma to change the subject again on her without a moment’s notice.
“‘Medeski Martin & Wood’ are playing at Birdland Wednesday night,” Emma began mentally kicking herself for even speaking the thought though she couldn’t have sounded more nonchalant if she were unconscious. “They’re quite good live. They tend to improvise changes to the rhythm and melody which is quite exciting. Do you like the old Jimmy Smith Trio? Their sound is very reminiscent of that,” Emma went on without waiting for Jean to respond. “They take more liberties than Smith ever did of course, but the familiar combination of thick organ sounds and offbeat drum patterns are still their core. Are you free?”
“Um, sure?” Jean replied momentarily speechless in the face of yet another of Emma’s unexpected verbal barrages.
“Don’t sound so excited dear, you might rupture something.” Emma frowned and turned away from her watching the crowd that had been viewing the game slowly start to disperse. She was sure Jean wouldn’t know good music if it marched up to her in an empty room and bit her square on the ass. Besides, based on Jean’s choice of a spouse it was obvious that the redhead didn’t recognize quality companionship either. Really she was just trying to be sociable, but if the redhead was going to act like going out with her was a goddamn chore or something she didn’t even see why she should bother.
“I’m sorry,” Jean said reacting to the petulance in Emma’s voice. It was the very similar to the tone she’d heard the blonde use the other day when she’d snuck into her room. “You just caught me by surprise. I’d love to go. I haven’t heard of Medeski, but I love the Jimmy Smith Trio,” she finished squeezing Emma’s hand which was still intertwined with her own.
“Fine,” Emma sighed sounding as if she were doing Jean a huge favor though she relaxed marginally and decided to make eye contact once more after Jean agreed to go with her. “Come along then,” she went on tugging Jean’s hand, still not releasing it once they began to walk once more. “I really would like to thaw out sometime before dinner.”
************
To be continued...
Comments always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading.
Pairing: Jean Grey/Emma Frost
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, though I do covet them.
Part 8
The next day
Emma lazily walked up behind Jean, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look at the picture the redhead was looking at, her mouth close Jean’s ear as she spoke. “That would look lovely on the wall next to your window,” she said softly, her eyes focused forward on the oil canvas painting hanging in a beautiful and elegant wooden frame.
“We already have a picture there,” Jean replied quietly, her voice almost a whisper as she struggled not to jerk back and place some distance between Emma and herself. The blonde was standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth of her body through her jacket. It reminded her of standing in the bushes with Emma hiding from Ororo like teenagers who’d missed curfew because they were necking in the back of an X-Terra all night and she didn’t want to be thinking about necking anywhere when she was near Emma.
Emma shuddered slightly behind Jean as she recalled the ‘picture’ in question. “That, my dear, is not so much art as an offence to good taste,” the blonde replied finally take a step back and moving around Jean so that she was standing beside her. “Just because it’s in a frame it doesn’t imbue it with any actual artistic qualities. Caciocavallo Podolico and Velveeta might both be classified as cheese, but make no mistake they belong in two entirely different categories,” she continued with a long suffering sigh as she once again tortured herself by imaging the framed picture of ‘Snoopy’s Last Supper’ that hung in the Summers’ bedroom.
Jean smiled, “So … the Snoopy one is the Velveeta, right?” she asked her smile growing as Emma glared at her before sighing wearily. There was something so delightful about pushing the blonde’s buttons that if she could get paid for it Jean might’ve taken it up as a full time job.
~They say a picture is worth a thousand words~ Emma sent to her telepathically a moment later before projecting an image of the Snoopy picture in question on fire, intense frames maliciously licking the corners of the picture until it was nothing but a charred husk.
~That was a little harsh~ But the redhead was smiling as replied to Emma. The picture had been Scott’s touch at decorating, and while she had nothing against ‘Peanuts’ she had never really been thrilled with its addition to the room.
“Perhaps,” Emma agreed out loud turning to the eye the Charles Gaul print that Jean had been studying. “But you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t rather wake up to the sight of ‘Flowering Magnolia’ in the morning than a cartoon dog in aviator goggles.”
Jean looked longingly at the picture for a moment longer before shaking her head. “I can’t,” she said finally. As much as she liked the picture and thought that it would have added to the atmosphere of the room, she didn’t want to start changing the room and getting rid of the few touches of himself that Scott had bothered to add. It just seemed wrong on some level to get rid of it while he wasn’t around.
“Yes, well, I can,” Emma replied lifting her hand to wave one of the sales people over. She had a rather good idea why Jean was hesitant to buy the picture and didn’t share the redhead’s concerns in the least. Her bastard husband could just deal with the loss of his crappy artwork when he came slinking home.
“Emma,” Jean began to protest watching the blonde as she tracked the sales person progress over to them. “I …”
“Mentioned that you needed a new bedside table,” Emma cut in smoothly. “I’ve made up my mind about the picture so there’s really no point in trying to talk me out of it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I can be quite stubborn about things,” she continued meeting Jean’s eyes. “There was some nice bedroom furniture in the room on the left,” she went on as the sales person reached them. “I’ll meet you over there.”
“I…” Jean started again.
“Exceedingly, abrasively stubborn,” Emma interjected once more her eyes still on Jean as she motioned absently to the picture she wanted for the saleswoman. “The frame as well,” she added when the woman began to move towards the portrait.
“Emma!” Jean exclaimed. The frame was old mahogany with an intricate yet delicate hand craved design. She couldn’t see the price tag on it, but based on some of the other frames of similar age and quality she knew that it had to cost close to three-hundred dollars.
“We’ve covered this, dear,” Emma replied turning her attention back to the redhead at her exclamation. “It’s becoming rather tedious,” she continued before softening her voice. “I want to,” she went on holding Jean’s gaze. “Just smile and make my day.”
Jean did just that, her lips curving completely of their own will. The present was, she thought, far too extravagant, especially considering that Emma had treated her to a very fine dinner not two days earlier. But she knew that to repeatedly refuse a gift could be just as rude and begging for one, and if she were to be completely honest with herself it felt rather nice to have someone pampering her. If Emma wanted to, she’d let her. After all, the blonde had hardly been joking about being ridiculously stubborn when it came to getting her way.
“Splendid,” Emma responded nodding towards the saleswoman who had stopped taking the picture down during the exchange unsure whether she need go to all the trouble. “Go, peruse,” she continued waving her hand about vaguely. “I’ll find you,” she finished tapping her temple playfully.
Jean shivered slightly wrapping her jacket more tightly around her as they walked down the small town’s crowded main street. Although the store Emma had brought her to had had some lovely bedroom furniture she hadn’t seen anything that would fit into the current layout of her room, and despite Emma’s insistence that there was nothing stopping her from changing the layout so that they did fit, they left the store without any purchases other than the painting and frame.
Having a destination in the mind they hadn’t really dilly dallied about when they arrived in town earlier that morning, but when they had finished with the antique store Jean had expressed an interest in exploring the town some. There were quite a few interesting looking shops around, and there was a pleasant, homey atmosphere that she felt like being immersed in for a while longer.
Jean jerked slightly as she felt Emma place her hand on her shoulder, forcing herself to relax a second later.
“You’re shivering again,” Emma said softly wrapping her arm around Jean using her hands to rub at her arms for a moment. “You’re terribly sensitive to the cold aren’t you?” she asked continuing her gentle warming motions, the question designed more to distract them both from what she was doing then a genuine inquiry because she wasn’t quite sure what had prompted her to rub down the redhead like a shivering three year old who’d just gotten out of the bath, and she didn’t want to be asked about it.
“I suppose I haven’t fully adjusted to the change of season yet,” Jean replied leaning into Emma’s body seeking the other woman’s warmth. She’d adjusted to the cold somewhat, but the feelings of warmth where Emma’s hands were seemed to be making the parts of her that weren’t being touched by the blonde seem so much colder.
“Well,” Emma drawled allowing the increased contact Jean initiated without comment. She had started it after all. “I don’t seem to be doing a very good job of warming you up,” she continued as another small shiver ran through Jean’s body. “It’s probably because, according to the rumor mill, my internal temperature is somewhere below sub-zero.”
Jean frowned at the comment. It was said lightly and she knew was intended to be amusing, but she didn’t think it was particularly funny.
“I think you’re doing an admirable job,” Jean responded. “I appreciate the effort.”
“Thank you, but I never cared much for participation badges,” Emma related turning her head to face Jean, their faces so close that the blonde’s breath caused the redhead’s hair to flutter slightly.
Jean shivered again.
“Are you going to find a way to warm me up even if it kills you?” Jean asked trying to ignore the brief flutter in her stomach as she felt Emma’s warm breath caress her forehead and the fact that her answering shiver had nothing to do with the cold that time.
“I don’t think all that will be necessary,” Emma said softly dropping her arm from around Jean and bringing it back to her own side, the backs of their hands brushing momentarily before Emma grasped Jean’s hand in her own and tugged. “I do have a question of great import to ask you however,” she continued as she led Jean by the hand across the street.
“And that would be?” Jean asked allowing herself to be pulled behind Emma like a giant Raggedly Anne doll.
“Do you prefer marshmallows or whipped cream?”
Jean blinked, rather thrown by the question for a moment before finally turning her gaze towards the direction they were moving in. There was an independent and rather quaint looking coffee shop a few meters away.
“It doesn’t matter,” Emma continued when Jean didn’t respond. “I suppose you can always have both. After all, if you’re going to give into temptation it’s best to go all the way and be completely satisfied,” she went on biting her plump bottom lip lightly before her lips curved sensuously up in a smile that could only be described as a lascivious.
Jean licked her lips, her eyes focused on the suggestive smirk on Emma’s full lips. As she watched, Emma’s tongue peaked out to wet her own lips and Jean felt her heart beat sharply spike for a few seconds. Blinking against the unsettling feeling, Jean averted her eyes from Emma’s. She actually wasn’t feeling cold at all anymore.
“Well, after that display, this place better make one hell of a cup of hot chocolate,” the redhead finally said forcing an amused – she hoped – smile on to her face. It wasn’t the wittiest response she had ever made, but at the moment she wasn’t as concerned with dazzling Emma with her verbal magic as she was with simply getting her mind off of her unexpected reaction to Emma’s flirting.
Emma turned her head away from the young men playing football in the park. Despite growing up in New England she’d never really cared much for the game. She was far more interested in the woman standing at her side. Jean had spotted the game going on as they exited a clothing store and led them over to watch in a way that Emma assumed the redhead had intended to seem unintentional.
Deciding not to feign interest in the boys pummeling each other any longer she focused her attention on Jean, watching the way her eyes tracked the action intensely, her lips curving slightly when the team she’d decided to cheer for did well, and then the way she kind of pouted when they made a mistake. She was so every earnest, Emma thought, so very earnest in everything that she did. Emma usually considered such openness a weakness, but surprisingly she found Jean’s lack of guile extremely attractive.
She had to fight the urge to reach out and touch the redhead again. She’d had the urge to be near Jean all day and had had varying degrees of success trying to ignore the impulse. She supposed it was because she could still remember the feeling of the redhead in her arms on the night of Jean’s anniversary. Jean had felt oddly small in her arms and it had inspired some rather usual feeling of tenderness and protectiveness within her that she hadn’t been able to shake. It was rather annoying really, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
Emma noted that the redhead had seemed to forget about the cold as she became preoccupied with the game, leaving her hand exposed. The blonde telepath pulled her hand out of her jacket pocket taking advantage of the redhead’s preoccupation and allowing the back of it to brush against Jean’s, leaving their hands in contact once she had touched her. As their hands touched Emma turned her eyes back towards the game, pretending to follow it. A moment later she could see Jean turn her head to look at her out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t respond to the questioning movement. She simply continued to stare forward as if she hadn’t noticed.
Jean turned back to the game a second later without withdrawing her hand.
“I’m sure there’s some sort of strategy to the way their ramming into each other like rhinoceros’s in mating season but I can’t see it,” Emma commented a moment later sounding bored as one of the boys in question was sent flying backwards after getting slammed into by a member of the opposing team.
“Oh, I’ll admit there’s a lot of unnecessary battering that takes place, but there’s actually quite a bit of strategy involved,” Jean responded wincing slightly as the boy who had just been run into staggered to his feet. “I’m not an expert or anything, but I think they’re set up in a …”
Emma tuned out what Jean was saying because she didn’t care. She did however remain looking at the redhead as she spoke. She was sure it appeared to Jean as if she were paying rapt attention to what she was saying, but really Emma was studying her again.
Jean looked even paler than usual because of the cold, but her cheeks held a perpetual flush to them that Emma thought was quite charming and sexy in a way. She’d always thought that Jean Grey was an attractive woman, but it had never really meant much to her before. She’d been thinking it more and more over the past couple of days however. Since their evening out she’d found herself paying considerably more attention to the redhead.
“Your hand feels like ice,” Emma said interrupting whatever it was Jean had been saying, surprising the redhead by speaking.
“What? Oh,” Jean exclaimed looking down at their now joined hands. “I hadn’t noticed,” she continued her eyes focused on Emma’s hands as they rubbed hers in an attempt to warm them.
“Clearly not,” Emma replied pausing in her ministrations for a moment. She’d had more physical contact with Jean over the past three days than she’d had in the three months that she’d been at the mansion. “Would you like to head back now?” she asked a moment later already knowing that the redhead would turn down the offer.
“Not quite yet,” Jean said her attention momentarily turning back towards the game. “They’re almost finished,” she went on looking at Emma once more. “You don’t mind do you?”
“Not at all,” Emma responded her eyes tracking back towards the boys on the field. “It would be rather like stopping a book in last chapter,” she went on allowing their hands to fall between their bodies once more though she remained holding Jean’s afterwards.
If Jean wanted to stay she would just have to do her best to keep her warm.
“Rather,” Jean agreed looking down at their joined hands. She had expected Emma to release her hand but the blonde was watching the game again almost as if she had forgotten Jean’s hand was in hers. Jean however was painfully aware of the feel of the blonde’s hand against her own. Emma’s hand felt pleasantly warm in her own and she was unnerved by how much she was enjoying the innocent contact.
Jean looked over at the blonde seriously debating the best way to nonchalantly remove her hand.
Emma released a puff of air as Jean looked at her, watching her breath condense and float away like smoke, before repeating the action once more. It was a rather childish thing to do and was not something she would normally do, but she knew that it would grab Jean’s attention.
Jean watched as Emma entertained herself with her own breath for a moment, lifting an amused eyebrow when the blonde focused on her once again.
“Frosty.” the blonde commented smirking.
Jean laughed and then lapsed into an amused smile before turning her attention back to the game. She felt Emma’s thumb graze against her knuckles a moment later as the blonde shifted her grip on her hand but she wasn’t as unnerved by the blonde’s touch as she had been a few moments before. The blonde’s little display of silliness had somehow undone some of the unease she had felt and forced herself to relax and just enjoy the moment of peace and companionship. Obviously Emma didn’t think it was strange to be holding her hand that way, and it was rather harmless. Besides, she supposed that receiving casual touches from Emma Frost was not something that happened very often, and since her hand really did feel much better since Emma had taken it she could as well just appreciate the rare treat.
When she was reasonably certain Jean was preoccupied with the game once more Emma glanced down at their joined hands. Jean’s skin looked so soft she wanted to stroke it with her fingers but she reined the urge in. It was a silly impulse anyway. She was already holding hands with the redhead like they were at a High School homecoming game and she wasn’t going to make things even more ridiculous by molesting the redheads hand. Besides Jean might’ve removed the appendage if she’d started to practically make love to it in public and even though she didn’t really want to, she was enjoying the simple contact.
Emma bit down on her lip as an aggravated sigh began to come out of her mouth. She was Emma Frost, she was the former fucking White Queen of the Hellfire club. She was a goddamn ridiculously gorgeous millionaire and she was worried about the reaction a milquetoast schoolteacher would have to her putting the moves on her. She couldn’t even really believe that she wanted to put the moves on her. She’d never been so disgusted with herself.
“Do you enjoy jazz?”
Jean blinked and turned to regard Emma who seemed to be delighting in throwing her completely off balance. At least she assumed the blonde must have been enjoying it since she’d been doing it all day.
“Yeah,” Jean replied slowly as if expecting Emma to change the subject again on her without a moment’s notice.
“‘Medeski Martin & Wood’ are playing at Birdland Wednesday night,” Emma began mentally kicking herself for even speaking the thought though she couldn’t have sounded more nonchalant if she were unconscious. “They’re quite good live. They tend to improvise changes to the rhythm and melody which is quite exciting. Do you like the old Jimmy Smith Trio? Their sound is very reminiscent of that,” Emma went on without waiting for Jean to respond. “They take more liberties than Smith ever did of course, but the familiar combination of thick organ sounds and offbeat drum patterns are still their core. Are you free?”
“Um, sure?” Jean replied momentarily speechless in the face of yet another of Emma’s unexpected verbal barrages.
“Don’t sound so excited dear, you might rupture something.” Emma frowned and turned away from her watching the crowd that had been viewing the game slowly start to disperse. She was sure Jean wouldn’t know good music if it marched up to her in an empty room and bit her square on the ass. Besides, based on Jean’s choice of a spouse it was obvious that the redhead didn’t recognize quality companionship either. Really she was just trying to be sociable, but if the redhead was going to act like going out with her was a goddamn chore or something she didn’t even see why she should bother.
“I’m sorry,” Jean said reacting to the petulance in Emma’s voice. It was the very similar to the tone she’d heard the blonde use the other day when she’d snuck into her room. “You just caught me by surprise. I’d love to go. I haven’t heard of Medeski, but I love the Jimmy Smith Trio,” she finished squeezing Emma’s hand which was still intertwined with her own.
“Fine,” Emma sighed sounding as if she were doing Jean a huge favor though she relaxed marginally and decided to make eye contact once more after Jean agreed to go with her. “Come along then,” she went on tugging Jean’s hand, still not releasing it once they began to walk once more. “I really would like to thaw out sometime before dinner.”
To be continued...
Comments always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading.
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Re: Recced!
Date: 2006-05-25 08:10 pm (UTC)Thanks for the rec! I makes me feel like Sally Field *choked whisper 'they like me'* JeanEmma is a new pairing for me, so I'm delighted to know that it hasn't been a trainwreck!
I am SO enjoying the pacing of this one. How much time and care you're taking with the story and, more importantly, the characters. *le happy sigh*
*grin* I'm calling this story a 'slow burn'. I wish I could actually take more time with them, but Scott's been away for like a billion years by this point and I'm finding it hard to justify keeping him gone for much longer *le sigh* That guy is such a ruiner. But there's still some more slow burning before his stupid mug shows up again!