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The party was in full swing now. Jean watched with a faint smile as she looked over the large group of mutants, tables lining the clearing.
Tabitha was yelling something about their dance routine at Roberto, while Glob desperately tried to calm the explosive blonde. Storm was above them, swaying to the music, adrift a few feet off the ground.
Over by the other tables, Logan had a bemused smirk on his face as Hank gestured wildly to him, the latter already a few drinks too many deep. Logan met her eyes for a moment, and his smirk widened.
Eyes lingering for a moment, Jean finally turned her attention back to the man beside her, where they were sitting at the edge of it all. There was a line of tension through Scott’s shoulders, his jaw tight as he surveyed the party.
“Having fun?” Jean asked, rubbing a hand over his shoulders. Already knowing the answer.
At her attention, he blinked. Clearing his throat, he nodded once. Stilted. “It’s nice to see them let loose,” he said, honestly.
Jean hummed, a slight frown overtaking her face. “Them,” she pointed out, “Not you. You said you’d try to relax, Scott.”
Scott pressed his lips together. Arms folded over his chest. “I know,” he muttered, opening his mouth as if to speak. But nothing came out.
“I’m sober tonight,” Jean reminded him, running her hand in gentle circles on his back. He was still completely rigid.
Krakoa was still new. Uncertain. That much she understood, Jean had her own doubts. It wasn’t as if their first few months had been easy, there’d been countless threats already.
Mutants could never catch a break. But, Scott could. For one night. If only he’d allow himself to relax.
“I know,” Scott repeated, and he rubbed his eyes beneath his ruby quartz glasses. At least she’d gotten him to take the visor off.
Jean could feel his conflicting emotions at the edge of her mind. It was like standing on the shore, watching the waves rage in front of you. Occasionally being hit with droplets as they crashed.
Most days, she had to make an effort to keep out of his mind. Scott didn't care if she did or not, she knew that.
But, when they were so closely intertwined, reaching for his thoughts was as easy as thinking her own ones. Jean was afraid she would forget where the line in the sand was.
“Didn’t you promise Illyana you’d try her cocktails?” Jean asked, gently resting her head on his shoulder. She felt a stray thought of his concern about PDA drift by, but it was undercut by him leaning closer to her.
“That I did,” Scott sighed, a fond resignation in his voice. He turned his head slightly. Lips brushing against the top of her head before he turned straight ahead again. Not a kiss, not exactly.
Jean smiled. She leaned away, turning to face him. He was still staring straight ahead, and so she reached out to tilt his jaw. Turning his head towards her.
Scott’s lips parted as his gaze landed on her. She could actually see his eyebrow raise, instead of inferring it like she usually did when he had his visor on.
“I’ve got this, Scott,” Jean said, softly, cupping his cheek. “You can relax. It’s okay.”
Scott’s shoulders slumped. Jean could see something give way. Across the clearing, a shriek of glee pierced the air. Quentin laughing at something. This time, when Scott heard it, the tension didn’t immediately snap back to his jaw.
“Okay,” Scott agreed, but it sounded more like he was convincing himself. She felt a wave of trust wash over her through their bond.
For you, he thought. Actively directing the thought at her.
Jean bit back a giggle. He was ever the romantic.
Not for Illyana? she thought in response.
Scott’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond. She caught a trace of his fondness for Illyana slip through their bond. Jean softened.
She thought back to their conversation from yesterday. Illyana’s outrage at the fact Scott said he was staying sober.
“They’re my special cocktails, Cyclops!” Illyana had said, arms folded and expression stormy. “You must try one. Back in Limbo, all the generals would drink together! Between killing each other, that is. Sometimes at the same time.”
“I’ll be back,” Scott said, hand brushing over her shoulder as he stood up.
Jean nodded, smiling up at him. “Have fun, handsome,” she teased, with a wink. Pushing a wave of adoration through their bond.
Scott let out a quiet exhale of amusement. A faint colour in his cheeks. He shook his head at her as he walked away, glancing back at her twice.
—
After Scott had left, Jean drifted through the small crowd. Though she didn’t have to walk around to make sure everything was running smoothly - her powers guaranteed that - Scott was right. It was nice to see everybody let loose.
It didn’t take long for her to cross paths with Logan. Though, she wouldn’t be surprised if her subconsciously had naturally carried her to him. The man was leaning against a tree root, beer in hand.
Hank was a few meters away now, laughing loudly as a transformed Rahne jumped onto the table. Jean chuckled before turning her attention back to Logan. He was already looking at her, eyes soft.
Jean blinked, fighting down the heat rushing to her cheeks. “They’re having fun,” she remarked, coming to a stop in front of him.
Logan snorted, taking a sip from his beer. “Really?” he asked, a small foam mustache above his upper lip. Before Jean could make a quip about it, he was speaking again. “Everyone having fun?”
Jean rolled her eyes. She didn’t have to read his mind to hear the unspoken question.
“Are you asking about everyone or just a certain someone?” Jean asked, a hand on her hip. Singular eyebrow raised.
“Yer the telepath, Jeannie,” Logan shrugged, unfortunately wiping his foam mustache away.
Jean smiled, turning to lean on the tree root beside him. “Touché,” she murmured, before her forehead wrinkled, searching for Scott. “He is, yes. Last I checked.”
She felt Logan relax slightly beside her. Jean bit her lip, feeling both parts annoyed and fond at how similarly stupid the two of them could be.
Finally, her mind brushed over Scott. His thoughts were fainter, he was on the opposite side of the party. Jean didn’t poke, but he was happy. That was good enough for her.
“What about ya?” Logan asked, and she could feel his gaze on her.
Jean hummed, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “What about me?” she asked, knowing exactly what he meant. A part of her wanting to make him elaborate.
He made a noise. “Y’know,” he said, scuffing his boots on the dirt beneath them.
Jean fought back a smile. “Do I?” she questioned, a teasing lilt to her voice.
“Stop messin’ with me,” Logan growled, but there was no heat to it. He drained the rest of his beer and set the glass down on the ground.
“I am,” Jean said, nudging him gently with her elbow. “Having fun, that is. I don’t mind being on standby.”
Logan nodded. “‘m good to go, too,” he said, joints popping as he stretched. “Needa lot more alcohol than this to get me drunk.”
Jean watched as Hank jumped up on the table, both him and Rahne spinning around in what was probably supposed to be unison. “That so?” she asked, tilting her head.
I could help with that she thought at him, smirking as he startled.
Don’t go poking around in here he thought in response, flicking her gently.
“I won’t,” Jean promised, pushing off from the root and taking a step forward. She turned back to him. “You getting another drink, though? Scott’s gone to try Illyana’s cocktails.”
Logan paused. Jean watched as he mulled over the unspoken invitation. A look of quiet frustration and then fondness passed over his face.
“Shit,” Logan sighed, meeting her eyes. “I have to see this.”
—
By the time they made their way to Scott, another two hours had passed by. Walking through a party where everybody knew you wasn’t an easy feat - especially not when almost everybody was drunk.
Illyana and Scott were still together, sitting side by side on barstools in the open roof mostly-metal bar Magneto had made for the occasion.
Jean couldn’t help but grin as they approached, already feeling Scott’s thoughts bounce off her. Watching her husband gesture dramatically. Illyana nodded rapidly by his side, hanging onto every word.
“Fuck sake,” Logan muttered, but Jean didn’t have to look at him to hear the smile in his voice. She could feel the fondness radiating from him.
“Having fun?” Jean asked, as her and Logan came to a stop behind the pair. There were three empty glasses in front of Scott, whereas there were eight in front of Illyana.
“Yes! So much,” Illyana exclaimed, hopping off the barstool. She stumbled forward, and Jean caught her by the upper arm, smiling gently as she steadied her.
“Hello,” Scott said, looking slightly dazed as he blinked, seemingly unable to decide between looking at Jean or Logan.
“Hey, bub,” Logan said, arms folded over his chest. “How ya doing?”
Jean fought back a laugh as Scott’s cheeks went red. His gaze dropped. “Alright,” Scott said, and turned away. Taking another swig of what Jean assumed was Illyana’s cocktail mixture.
Logan frowned beside her, catching Jean’s eye. Before he could say anything, Illyana was sighing and leaning forward into Jean’s arms.
“Fuck, you are so cool,” Illyana said, twirling a strand of Jean’s hair. “Your hair is red like blood. And fire. That’s so fucking…. fucking badass. Wow.”
Jean laughed, seeing Scott turn back towards them again out of the corner of her eye. Logan snorted by her side.
“Thanks, Illyana,” Jean said, eyebrows raised in amusement as the woman struggled to steady herself.
Thanks for sharing your cocktails with Scott Jean thought, nodding her head.
Illyana gave her a confused look, glancing back at Scott. “Of course. He’s my commander,” she said, easily.
Scott groaned. “We talked about this!” he exclaimed, a slight whininess Jean had never heard slipping into his voice. “I’m your friend.”
Logan met Jean’s eyes again, both of his eyebrows raised. Jean shook her head, stifling a laugh. A bemused grin stretched across Logan’s face as Illyana said something in reply to Scott.
“Illyana!” Doug yelled from the table across from the bar, a group of the younger mutants with him. “Get over here! Kate and I-”
The rest of what he was saying was cut off by a roar of excitement from Illyana. She jumped up and down before seemingly remembering herself, looking back over at Scott.
“We’ll drink again, Cyclops!” she nodded, hands on her hips. “Have a good night, Marvel Girl. Wolverine.”
Jean raised a hand in goodbye, watching as Illyana raced off towards the table and the three of them were left in the bar.
Scott was still on the barstool, but he was tilting slightly. Not able to sit upright.
Before Jean could move, Logan had already closed the distance, steadying Scott with an arm around his shoulders. Jean blinked in surprise, trying to catch Logan’s eyes. He didn’t look at her.
“Hi Jean,” Scott said, what could only be described as a dorky smile overtaking his face as Jean walked up to the pair.
Jean smiled, tilting his chin up so his head was leaning back on Logan’s shoulder. “Hello, love,” she murmured, hand lingering on his jaw for a moment.
“I kept our promise,” he mumbled, blinking up at her through his ruby quartz lenses. His feelings were looser than usual, and she could feel them spilling through their bond. Specifically, his desire for approval. Her chest squeezed.
“I can see that,” she said, with an amused smirk. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Logan who was looking at her now. Then, she turned back to Scott. “Good job.”
Scott grinned, an expression she had seen on his face maybe once before. Jean wished she had a camera.
“My heads g’na hurt tomorrow, though,” Scott muttered sourly, turning to press his face into Logan’s shoulder. Logan stiffened, but he didn’t move away.
Jean felt her stomach flutter with equal parts envy and love. She was happy to see Scott enjoying himself but damn it, if she wasn’t a bit jealous that she wasn’t the one his adorable drunk self was trying to cuddle.
Looking at the expression on Logan’s face, the quiet exasperated hope that he blinked down at Scott with, Jean pushed the feeling of envy away. She could cuddle Scott any day.
“My face hurts now,” Scott said, muffled by Logan’s shoulder.
“Your face?” Jean frowned, a hand on Scott’s shoulder at the same time that Logan asked:
“What?”
“Yeah,” Scott mumbled, words slightly slurred. “My glasses are pushing into my face.”
Jean chuckled in disbelief. Logan sighed, trying to move away but Scott grabbed him, stopping the man.
“If you let Logan move back, your face won’t hurt anymore,” Jean coaxed gently, rubbing Scott’s shoulder.
“No,” Scott said, resolutely. Face still buried in Logan’s shoulder.
Logan was looking more thrown off by the second, as his gaze darted around. He looked ready to take off.
It’s okay Jean thought, trying to calm the shorter man.
Thought I told ya to not poke around in here Logan thought back, squinting at her.
I’m not, you’re just an open book Jean responded, rolling her eyes at him.
“Why are you guys quiet? Are you having a telepathic-” Scott stumbled over his words, letting out a quiet groan. “Telepathic conversation?”
“Jealous?” Logan asked, a bite to his voice.
Jean narrowed her eyes at Logan, grip tightening on Scott’s shoulders. She blinked, distracted by Scott’s thought drifting into her head. Oh.
“Kinda,” Scott admitted, hand fisted in Logan’s tank top, right over his heart. “I don’t care. I’m happy to be with you both.”
Jean stared at Logan’s matching expression of surprise. His mouth was hanging open. Logan’s arm, still around Scott’s shoulders, tightened almost imperceptibly. Like he was pulling Scott closer without meaning to.
“Time to go home, sweetheart?” Jean murmured, hand moving up to stroke through Scott’s hair.
“Yeah,” Scott agreed. Immediately followed by a groan as he pressed his face deeper into Logan’s shoulder. “This is so embarrassing,” he mumbled. “I’m going to remember this tomorrow and die.”
“Don’t worry. Trust me, ya won’t be remembering much of anything, Slim,” Logan snorted.
Jean batted Logan’s arm lightly, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“That’s even worse,” Scott sighed.
Jean went quiet. He didn’t have to forget.
—
It didn’t take them long to get back to their house. Logan had scooped up Scott without complaint, carrying the taller man bridal style all the way back.
Jean had offered to use her powers to lift him, but Logan had ignored her and started walking. Men.
There’d been a few wolf whistles on their way back but people had been largely distracted by Hank’s interpretative dance performance. One that had ended in two broken tables.
Scott was dozing in Logan’s arms, mumbling quietly in his sleep as Jean pushed Scott’s bedroom door open.
“Thanks for carrying him,” Jean whispered as Logan stepped through the doorway.
Logan glanced at her, offering as much of a shrug as he could with Scott in his arms. “‘s nothing,” he mumbled, walking over to Scott’s bed.
Scott stirred as Logan placed him gently down on the covers. “What’s going on?” he asked, bleary-eyed behind his ruby quartz glasses.
“His sleep masks on the bedside table,” Jean said, walking to stand by the opposite side of the bed. Debating how much future Scott would hate her if she let him sleep in his day clothes.
Logan blinked, thrown off. He glanced at the bedside table, at Scott and then back at Jean. His mouth opened.
“Mask,” Scott mumbled, slipping off his glasses and squeezing his eyes shut. He held the glasses out to Logan, making a grabby hand with his other hand. When Logan didn’t take them immediately, Scott frowned. “Please.”
Logan swallowed. He took the glasses, laying them carefully onto Scott’s bedside locker. He picked up the sleep mask, and his hands hovered above Scott’s head. As if he were gearing up to put it on.
Jean knew she should probably look away. Logan looked ready to implode, and her staring wasn’t helping matters. But, Jean decided she deserved this.
Hesitating, finally, Logan moved away. He placed the sleep mask into Scott’s open hand instead.
Smiling, Jean hopped into bed beside Scott. Knowing that he’d be annoyed about his clothes anyway, and she was too tired to change hers. At least they’d taken their shoes off at the front door.
Feeling his eyes on her, Jean glanced over Logan. He was frozen in place, standing above Scott. Blinking at her helplessly.
“I’m… going,” Logan said, stiffly. “Good night.”
Jean’s eyes widened as Scott immediately shot up, hands grasping the air blindly before he finally latched onto Logan’s forearm. Stopping him from walking away.
For a moment, it felt as if nobody was breathing in the room. Jean’s own breath was caught in her throat, traitorous heart a beat too fast.
Nobody was saying anything.
Jean opened her mouth to speak, but Logan beat her to it.
“What are ya doing, bub?” he asked, quietly. Voice low, and it sounded like he was scared to even hope.
Scott exhaled shakily.
“…Stay.”
It was like Logan’s eyes were glowing in the dark, the intensity of them. Jean couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face, waiting. Watching.
Logan nodded once. Twice. A jerky motion, before clearing his throat. “Okay,” he said, expression tight.
Rigidly, Logan climbed into bed beside them. Scott in the middle. All three of them still in their clothes from the party, lying on top of the covers. It was surreal.
Jean couldn’t help it. She laughed. The other two’s heads snapped towards her. She expected questions, but instead Scott joined her. He laughed too, one of her favourite sounds.
Logan didn’t laugh. He huffed quietly. “Yer both impossible,” he said, words so fond it sounded like a confession. And it was, in a sense.
Jean smiled. “You love it, really,” she said.
It.
Scott’s breath hitched at the word love. And Jean’s throat thickened, knowing that she was pushing it.
Logan’s breathing was unsteady. A few moments of silence passed. A moment where Jean thought he might up and leave.
“…Maybe,” he admitted, and he rolled onto his side, his back facing them.
Scott would forget, Jean knew that. Even while still intoxicated, she could feel the panic beginning to creep into the edges of her husband’s mind. Feel him succumbing to it.
He would forget. And maybe that was for the best.
Jean could make him remember.
But were any of them ready for that?