Work Text:
Scott's Secret
by Pirate Turner
She sighed as she stared out of the rain-soaked windshield. The wipers made ominous creaking noises as they swept back and forth, doing their best to clear the rain. She had been asking Scott to fix them for weeks now. She'd ask Logan tomorrow, but tonight . . . Tonight she had no choice.
Tonight she had to put an end to the questions that had been haunting her ever since Scott had first started acting strange weeks ago. She had to know. She had to face whatever it was, and she could do it, she reminded herself. She was an X-Man and had been through far worse things than this.
Still fear caught at her heart. She didn't want to face a life where she might not have her husband in it, where his heart might belong to another. {But you could already be living it, girl, and just not know it. And then again, there may be nothing to it.} She had to find out or she'd go insane with worry. She just had to know.
Not for the first time did Jean silently cuss Hank for his latest invention. She understood the need for an instrument to block telepathy, but yet again, she wondered, and worried, over why Scott, of all people, had chosen to be his guinea pig. There were at least a hundred other people Hank could have chosen, so why Scott? Why, unless he had volunteered for it, and why volunteer for it unless he had something to hide?
She let up on her accelerator as she saw his convertible's brake lights come on. She watched as he pulled into a parking lot for one of the newer bars in the area, then continued on, hoping he had not seen her. Of course he shouldn't be concerned with Rogue's jeep following him, she reminded herself, thankful that she had had the foresight to talk to her friend and borrow her vehicle instead of using her own.
She circled the block a couple of times, building her courage and reminding herself that she had to know what was going on. Scott had told her not to worry, that he was just trying out something else new, when she asked him, but he refused to tell her what. Why not tell her, she thought yet again, her brow furrowed, as she pulled into the parking lot, if that something new was not a new woman?
Jean parked, grabbed her purse, and started the walk to the bar's front entrance. With each step, doubt piled on top of her until she wanted to scream. She had to know, she began a litany to herself as her heart pound frantically against her ribcage. She had to know. She had to know. She had to know.
As she entered the bar, she told herself that the only difference finding out would make was that she would know for certain what was happening for if indeed Scott was truly seeing some one else, she had already lost him. She would have lost her best friend and the only man who had kept her sane throughout everything they'd been through together. She would have lost her love, her heart.
Jean started to turn back around and race out the door when a familiar voice caught her ears. She turned slowly around as the crooning voice seemed to almost caress her ears, and her mouth dropped open in shock. Her mind spun as her green eyes bulged in disbelief. Of all the things she had seen, of all the possible scenes her vivid imagination had brought up, nothing had prepared her for this! Her hand shook as she pulled out her phone, snapped a picture of her husband, and sent it to her girlfriends.
"Oh my Goddess!" Ororo Munroe cried as she stared at the picture on Betsy Braddock's phone.
"What is it?" Rogue asked, coming around to where the other women were crowding Betsy's end of the couch.
"I just . . . " Betsy shook her head as her tongue found trouble forming coherent words. "Wow!" she finally managed. "I knew he was hot, but I'd never have thought he was that kind of a man . . . "
"What you women talkin' 'bout?" Gambit tried to intervene.
"Never ya mind, shugah," Rogue replied, waving a hand at herself as though she had suddenly gotten too hot. "Ah don't know 'bout the rest o' y'all, but Ah gotta see him in person for mahself." She flew from the room.
Scott Summers closed his eyes as he strutted across the stage. He was slowly becoming used to a sea of faces watching his every move, but sometimes his shyness still threatened to get the best of him. He concentrated on his words, forcing them out, then shifted that same determined concentration to his body's movements.
Applause and whistles rippled through the air, and Scott opened his eyes, his confidence returning. He heard his name, and he paled. His head swung in that direction. His mouth dropped open, his glasses almost slipping off of his face. He pushed them hurriedly back up but continued to stare, his routine completely forgotten.
His wife was sitting in a circle of their friends, the women and Bobby cheering, clapping, and whistling appreciatively. She was smiling, he realized. She didn't mind what he was doing. She understood!
But then he saw Logan sitting at the next table with a group of their male team mates, and he paled again. Wolverine was glowering at him; Gambit was snickering. He knew they'd never let him live this down!
"1 . . . 2 . . . "
Where was the chanting coming from? Then Scott realized that it was the announcer and the crowd chanting together. If they hit 3, he'd be yanked off of the stage and embarrassed even further! Swallowing hard, he shifted his attention to Jean. {Sing for her, old man,} he told himself, {just for her.}
His voice trembled as he resumed his song but grew bolder as he felt her telekinetically stroking him. Her mind ran over his shoulders, massaging him lightly, and then down his back before squeezing his white-clad bum. He jumped in surprise but grinned and almost laughed. Instead of laughing, he burst out in full song and continued his dance across the stage.
When he sang his last note and took a bow, roses bombarded his booted feet, but Scott only had eyes for one woman. She blew him a kiss even as Rogue whistled again. "ENCORE! ENCORE!" his friends shouted from one table while his other friends at the next table continued to glower, mutter, and laugh at his sake.
But there would be no encore unless he won. That simply wasn't the way the game worked. "And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen: The King lives again!" He gathered the roses in his arms as the announcer spoke, then backed away from the stage, emptying it for the next performer. Rather than running to the safety of his dressing room, Scott squared his shoulders and prepared to meet the oncoming assault.
He slipped to his wife's table, trying desperately to ignore the glares and laughter coming from the one next to it. "How'd you . . . " he started to ask but was met by Jean jumping to her feet, throwing her arms around him, and hugging him tightly.
"Oh, Scott, I never should have doubted you!"
He turned off the tool Hank had been allowing him to use for the last month and was immediately bombarded by Jean's thoughts pouring over themselves. He tossed the roses to the table. Returning her hug, he looked down into her green eyes, "You're the only woman for me, Jeannie, and you always will be." He ran his fingers through her long, red hair, then pressed his mouth to hers.
His throat had been sore from singing after a day of yelling in battle, but now all that was forgotten in their kiss. He held her to him, pledging his love to her in their mouths' passionate embrace. Her lips parted eagerly underneath his, and his tongue dove in to seek his treasure.
Several voices clearing loudly finally broke the couple apart. Scott reluctantly released Jean and gathered the roses back up. "For my truest fans," he said, giving one rose to each of the women gathered around them. "And for my number one fan and inspiration . . . " He laid the rest in Jean's arms.
"Hey! What about me?" Bobby demanded, receiving several surprised looks. Before he could say anything else, however, another voice caught his attention, and he turned to look back at the stage. Awe filled his face, and then he almost knocked the table down in his hurried attempts to clap and whistle louder than any one else for there upon the stage, doing his own acrobatic version of shaking his bon bon was no other than the Iceman's beloved boyfriend, Hank McCoy himself!
The women soon gathered around Bobby, even Scott's own Jeannie forgetting about her husband as she watched the amazing show. Scott's shoulders slumped as he watched Hank's wild maneuverings around the stage, heard the crowd roar, and knew he had lost any chance he might have otherwise had at First Place. He had almost perfected his routine this night, but little had he known that Hank had been busy improving his own.
The sudden sound of Snikt! caused Scott to jump despite himself. He blushed as he looked to the other table where the men had grown silent. Logan had only popped a claw to open his beer, and Scott kicked himself for showing his fear of the other man. He could take him, he told himself though he didn't feel anywhere near as confident as he would have liked to.
LeBeau shook his head. "Never would've thought ya had it in ya, Cyke."
"I knew you could move like that, buddy," Warren put in, "but I didn't know you could sing."
"And not sound like a cat in a bag," Bishop softly interjected to which laughter rose. The sounds of his friends laughing at him burned Scott's ears, and he started to turn away when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Logan looked at him rather sheepishly for the first time in the entire time Scott had known him. His first thought was that he had too much to drink, but then he reminded himself that he'd never known Wolverine to let alcohol have its way with him. "Truth is, bub, they just wanted to have the guts ya just showed. Ya wanted to do something, and ya went for it. Here." He placed the beer he'd just opened into Scott's hand. "Ya need this worse'n I do."
Logan started to walk away but was stopped by Sam's voice. "Wow, Mistah Wolverine! Ah nevah would've thought ya'd have singin' ambitions!"
"I don't," Logan growled, the deadly glare from his feral eyes slicing through his team mates. "Ain't no way in Hell ya'd ever get me on a damn stage." He turned his back on them and walked off, keeping his grin to himself.
Though distracted by Beast, Ororo had not missed the interaction amongst the men. She smiled secretly to herself at Logan's words, her blue eyes dancing mischievously, then hid her smile behind her clapping hands as Gambit offered "Elvis" the opportunity to sit down with them.
The End