I feel like Anais Nin...

I Feel Like Anais Nin Chapter Three
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… sorry for all the femmeslash this week, lol. Doctor Nightfall asked me nice so he gets a chapter. ;)


Jean chewed distractedly on the cap of her pen, passing the plastic between her teeth then poking it out with her tongue, then repeating. Ad infinitum. She did not even notice she was doing this until Scott reached across the aisle and slapped her wrist lightly. Jean jumped guiltily and spit out the pen cap, never taking her eyes off the whiteboard in the front of the room.
“Now,” Logan was saying, pacing steadily from one side of the board to the other, “what do you do if your opponent comes at you with a blade?”
“What kind of blade?” Jubilee’s voice piped up from the back of the room. “A small one, like a pen knife or a long one like a broadsword?”
Jean tuned out as a debate began on the subject of whether the size of a blade mattered or just the fact that the opponent had a sharp object. She bent over her notebook, mentally praising and damning these lecture days the Professor and Logan insisted on, interspersing the physical aspects of Danger Room practicals. She had no notes written and wondered at how Scott and Kitty could have page upon page of information. A soft coughing noise to her left made Jean slide her gaze in that direction and she froze, color flooding her cheeks. Rogue was holding an intricately folded piece of paper between two gloved fingers, down at hip level, just out of arm’s reach for the telekinetic telepath. Rogue did not look at her but Jean knew she was waiting, expectant and nervous. She could feel it like fire burning across her skin. The Southern girl shook the paper slightly between her fingers as if to say ‘well?’ before quickly tucking it under her thigh as Logan rounded to face her. “Somethin’ wrong?” he demanded, his eyes piercing Rogue and Jean.
“No,” Jean murmured, meeting his gaze steadily, daring him to ask her anything. She could pick the answer out of any head in the room if she had to, she thought to herself with a hint of guilt. _Just don’t make me do it. _
Rogue cleared her throat and leaned forward on folded arms, her brows arched slightly in seeming confusion. “So what you’re sayin’ is that we should just expect to get ourselves cut up good then?”
Logan snorted and set into a rousing expository speech on the nature of knife fights, turning to pace again, his posture that of a caged animal, no happier to be there than they. Jean licked her lips and with a flick of a mental wrist, brought the note from Rogue’s seat and across the aisle, covering it with her hand as Logan turned back in their direction. He did not even slow down as he lectured and Jean let out a covert sigh of relief. Slowly and as quietly as possible, she opened the note, holding it in her lap as she spread the torn piece of paper flat, tucking it between the pages of her notebook to hide it from Scott. She smiled at her sometimes boyfriend and raised her brows a bit, putting on a happy face. He smiled back and winked, returning to his notetaking. _God, _ Jean groaned inwardly, _why am I doing this? What the Hell is wrong with me? _ She sighed with relief when Logan suddenly called for a ten minute break, striding from the room to meet with Storm, standing just outside the door, her white hair and silvery cloak visible in the dimly lit hallway. Jean stood, stretched and edged past Kitty, her notebook tucked carefully under her arm. “Anyone need a drink? I’m going to go grab some water from the kitchen.” A few polite murmurs and one yes and she left, hurrying before anyone could stop her. She felt Rogue’s eyes on her back, not so much insistent and nervous as demanding, curious, making her flesh warm and her knees shake. She knew what Rogue was thinking. She knew the image the other girl held in her mind, of pink sex spread open and wet, gloved fingers parting petals of flesh and soft tongues meeting in a moaning kiss. Jean shook herself mentally and physically, ducking into the phone room, a narrow booth-like room just big enough for one person, a phonebook and the Professor’s antique phone that seemed to be older than everyone but Logan. She slipped the note from the pages of her notebook and closed her eyes for a moment. _She’s going to want an answer, she’s going to want to know what I want, what I’m thinking… What the Hell do I do? I don’t love her. I can’t. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I love her… _ She opened her eyes and focused on the copperplate script, Rogue’s cramped handwriting, in bold black ink. One line in the middle of the page. One burning, almost accusatory line. Jean swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry and hot as she crumpled the paper and stuffed it into her pocket. She couldn’t look at it again, not yet. Someone outside the room called her name and she exhaled shakily. She would have to go back without the water now, but she didn’t think she could drink it anyway. Kitty would have to make do without it for the next hour.
“You okay?” Rogue asked as Jean emerged from the phone room. Years of practiced indifference served her well. She managed to stand with Jubilee and look casual, discussing Kurt’s obsession with slot cars rather than raking a hungry gaze over Jean. She could not explain it even to herself but it was as if a switch had been flipped and now that was al she wanted. It wasn’t Scott in her head, she knew that for certain. It was something of her own, something deep and primal and vital to her existence.
“Fine,” Jean lied, smiling tightly. “I forgot I had to call Duncan and cancel study group…”
“Oh?” Rogue and Jubilee were leading Jean back down the hall now, Jubilee still muttering about idiot hobbies. “What did he have to say about that?”
Jean inhaled, catching a whiff of nag champa coming from Rogue’s clothing and hair. She felt it wind around in her senses and become almost a siren call, something that would trigger a melting heat deep in her body. “He said yes.”
Jubilee frowned and turned to face them both. “That made no sense, Jean.”
Rogue felt her knees nearly buckle and her heart begin to race. “It makes perfect sense…”


A/N Sooooooo… what did the note say? *Duh dum duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh*