Some things just needed wading into. The doorway to a room with chairs and tables and high velocity bullets flying, that was where you grit your teeth and stepped on up
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This trip was supposed to be an escape. It was supposed to be about getting her head on straight, coming to terms with the Phoenix, and reconnecting with Logan -- the man who had been one of her most dependable friends for years, who she had hardly spent any time with since being newly not-dead, almost a year ago.
It was not supposed to be about long-distance arguments -- vicious, swearing arguments that sent her onto hour-long crying jags. She couldn't remember anymore what had really started it: Emma claiming to be her, Scott defending Emma claiming to be her, Lorna just plain defending Emma. Or maybe it was all the talk about Lorna's wedding, which had turned into Lorna's elopement, which had turned into a whole conflict about Lorna's infuriating inability just to leave some issues the hell alone. Now, Jean was hurting in places she had forgotten she had wounds. It was too much. She told Lorna and Scott both not to contact her, and she turned the computer off
( ... )
Jean had never thought much about boats, one way or another. This certainly wasn't the sort of trip she would have planned, but then -- that was why she had asked Logan to arrange things. She wanted the type of trip she wouldn't have planned.
She liked the feel of the wind on her face and, hungry as she was, she didn't want to hurry in to dinner. The wind blew her hair down against Logan's shirt. Her hand brushed his tight T-shirt as she tried to untangle it, and she let her touch linger there a moment. Even in flat shoes, for the deck, she had a bit of height on him. She smiled down, and touched his shoulder. "I'm supposed to be on vacation, Logan. If you catch me working again -- don't let me again."
It hadn't actually been work, of course. Sam Guthrie was running the X-Corp office with annoying efficiency, to the point that he steadfastly refused to have a crisis, even though it would have distracted her from talking to Lorna and Scott. But then, talking to them sort of was her job. "You know how Scott just decides
( ... )
“So how much’s the laptop worth?” Logan asked her, glancing sideways wolfishly. That was as good as permission to tip it over the side, which he’d gladly do. Jean’s hand was small and still warm against the cotton, and he crossed his forearms over the railing beside her, putting no actual pressure on the metal. Close enough beside her to forget about a night with a little too much to drink, and awkwardness that wasn’t much of his. Logan stretched out his shoulders in a shrug, careful enough not to dislodge her hand, eyes crinkled with amusement at the thought of Jean levitating shrimp out of the sea. He didn’t doubt she could do it
( ... )
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It was not supposed to be about long-distance arguments -- vicious, swearing arguments that sent her onto hour-long crying jags. She couldn't remember anymore what had really started it: Emma claiming to be her, Scott defending Emma claiming to be her, Lorna just plain defending Emma. Or maybe it was all the talk about Lorna's wedding, which had turned into Lorna's elopement, which had turned into a whole conflict about Lorna's infuriating inability just to leave some issues the hell alone. Now, Jean was hurting in places she had forgotten she had wounds. It was too much. She told Lorna and Scott both not to contact her, and she turned the computer off ( ... )
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She liked the feel of the wind on her face and, hungry as she was, she didn't want to hurry in to dinner. The wind blew her hair down against Logan's shirt. Her hand brushed his tight T-shirt as she tried to untangle it, and she let her touch linger there a moment. Even in flat shoes, for the deck, she had a bit of height on him. She smiled down, and touched his shoulder. "I'm supposed to be on vacation, Logan. If you catch me working again -- don't let me again."
It hadn't actually been work, of course. Sam Guthrie was running the X-Corp office with annoying efficiency, to the point that he steadfastly refused to have a crisis, even though it would have distracted her from talking to Lorna and Scott. But then, talking to them sort of was her job. "You know how Scott just decides ( ... )
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