The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Chapter Seventeen (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply


A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch, Uberbeta and EMPRESS OF MULTITASKING… *squeeeeeeeeee * *ahem * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are extra special loverly for archiving/hosting! ProPhile, you’ll have more work soon. ;) Morgan: *hugs * Readers/Reviewers: No updates this coming weekend, but we’ll be back on some sort of schedule on Monday, lol. *GLOMPS *


Jean stared at the boxes in their neat stack near the door. Her entire life could be summed up in ten boxes. Large ones, she amended. Ten large boxes. And one paper bag. She felt the familiar tug of guilt, ingrained in her by overprotective parents, by overexpectant teachers, by trusting friends who had no idea how much pressure she felt… She inhaled deeply and forced the guilt from her body on the exhale. “It’s for the best,” she said to the still house. Scott would be over at the mansion for hours yet, from what she could tell. She really did not need help moving the boxes, but she wanted it. She did not want to be alone in her self imposed exile from her own marriage bed. The clock showed ten past ten and she was struck by how absurdly like a smiley face the thing looked1. _Even the goddamned clock is happier than I am, _she sighed inwardly. A tug at the corner of her perception made her stiffen. Scott was projecting strongly, though unintentionally. He was thinking of the first time they slept together, she realized with a pained sigh and faint tingling of desire coursing through her body. _Stop it _ She slowly, so slowly that he would not notice the lack of connection, brought up her mental shields and closed him off. _I’ll never leave if I keep letting him in like that. _ She turned her back on the pile of boxes and one bag and faced the kitchen, the light still glowing yellow white over the table, spilling into the small den. She had tried writing a letter but destroyed it, knowing logically and in her heart that it would be beyond cruel to tell him her reasons that way. _Like sneaking out in the middle of the night isn’t? _ Her breath caught on a sob and she covered her face with her hands. The pain in her head was building slowly, a migraine sure to be firmly in place by midnight, and Jean wanted nothing more than to sink into the sweet oblivion of sleep and a warm embrace, but she reminded herself that those warm embraces were what was keeping her from committing herself entirely to her goals of career and education. She looked at the clock again and sighed anew. Rogue and Amara would not be back for at least another hour, depending on where Wanda and Tabby had gone, and Scott would be in the mansion proper for at least as long… She sighed and walked back to her stack of boxes, telling herself it was for the best, at least for a little while. _The problem is, _ she decided, _the best sucks. _

Scott rubbed his temples in agitation. He had not been able to stay in the room any longer, listening to Remy and Lance try to pontificate to Jamie about the finger points of, as Todd put it, “doing it.” He had wanted to help, really he had, but he was on the point of slapping them both about the face and ears if they told Jamie one more time to just “fuck her, man!” He strongly suspected Lance was still drunk and Todd was feeling mean. With a sigh, he stepped out of the slowly opening elevator doors to find Sean standing in the hall, waiting. “Uh, sorry,” Scott muttered, hurrying to step out of the way.
“Wait a moment,” Sean said suddenly, 2 grabbing Scott’s arm as he passed. “You’re going to Boston this week, right?”
“Well, for a day or so, yeah. Why do you ask?” Scott stepped back so that he and Sean were even and he could look the other man in the eyes. “I’m supposed to go up Thursday.”
Sean nodded as if something suddenly made sense, but he still did not let go of Scott’s arm. As the moment stretched into the realm of Decidedly Uncomfortable, he finally spoke. “You and Jean are happy, right?”
Scott blinked rapidly ,surprised at the personal question. “Well, yes. Very. I mean, it’s hard and all, but we’re managing and we make time for one another.” He shrugged slightly. “What brought that up?”
“Sometimes,” Sean said carefully, “I think you kids had the right idea, just jumping feet first into things, you know? No chance to second guess yourself, no chance to mess things up by thinking too much…” He trailed off and let his hand drop to his side. “Sorry for keeping you.” He nodded curtly, a clear dismissal.
Scott felt the frown form on his face even as the words came forth. “Everything okay, Sean?”
“Just peachy,” Sean sighed. “Absolutely peachy.” The elevator doors slid closed between them, effectively preventing any opportunities for continuing the conversation.
Scott sighed and rolled his eyes. “Must be the weather,” he muttered. “Makes everyone act squirrelly…”

St John looked up expectantly as Scott entered the kitchen, his face falling as he saw who it was. “Oh. I thought you were Bobby,” he sighed.
“I’m taller,” Scott replied, heading for his stash of Cheetos in the pantry. “What’re you doing up? Don’t you have to be somewhere in the morning?”
“Yes, mom,” St John muttered, stirring his mushy cereal morosely. “I was waiting for Bobby… we were going to watch the old Creature Feature and make fun of Godzilla’s rubber suit.”
“He left after I did,” Scott shrugged. “If he left at all. He might still be down in the basement with the others.” He held out the bag of chips in silent offering, which St John refused.
“I doubt it,” St John sighed. “Hey, Scott… why’s Jean moving boxes in?”
Scott followed St John’s gaze towards the stairs to see Jean following two s shs she was moving telekinetically. “Hey, baby,” he called, leaving his chips behind and heading for the foyer. “What’s going on?”






1 If you notice in most ads with watches or clocks, the hands are set to ten past ten. It’s because it looks “happy”.
2 Say that three times fast, lol.