Disclaimer: All of it is Marvel's, none of it is mine.

by Indigo

"Come on, you two. Shake a leg. As it is we're going to be there all day as it is."

Jean Grey folded her arms in the passenger seat of the Range Rover. Scott was behind the wheel. "Did we have to do this -- with all of us at once?" he asked, hunkering down beside his wife.

"Yes," Jean retorted. "I don't especially want to go through it four separate times."

"Just a second, sugah," Rogue yelled out the window. "Ah'm tryin' to remember which ID ah was usin'!"

"Would you not worry about it and just get down here?"

Scott sighed and leaned back against his seat. I knew when Logan came down for breakfast, sniffed the air, and said he was getting the hell out of Dodge, I should've listened.

Jean glowered and he felt her impatience through the psionic rapport Scott shared with her, so he honked the horn.

From one of the upstairs windows, Remy came flying -- Wait. Remy can't fly. Tumbling.

The Cajun picked himself up, dusted himself off, in as elegant a gesture of 'I meant to do that' as possible, sauntered over to the car, and said, "Rogue say tell y'all she be down in a minute." He leaned in conspiratorily to whisper to Scott. "Do me a solid, mon ami? Stop at de candy shop while dey gone an' pick up a pound or two of Godiva, neh?"

Scott nodded sympathetically. "That's not a bad idea. I'm taking Jean to the Japanese Steakhouse in Salem Center for dinner."

Jean smiled, and the effect was like the sun breaking through thunderous clouds. "Oh, Scott, really? We haven't had a night out in weeks!"

Scott smiled hesitantly. "I ...thought you'd like a night out, away from it all."

Remy winced as Jean's expression darkened again, and beat a hasty retreat.

"Are you saying I'm not fit for mixed company?!" Jean demanded.

"I didn't say that, darling," Scott said in a defensive whisper. "I just honestly thought you'd like a night out."

Jean regarded her husband dubiously but seemed content to leave the answer at that.

Rogue alighted beside the car, in tears.

"What's the matter?" Scott asked, hesitantly.

"Ah still can't remember which ID ah used last time ah renewed mah driver's license. An' since mah purse got lost in that fight we had with Alpha Flight, ah ain't got mah driver's license to remind me!" She burst into tears again.

"Don't worry about it, hon," Jean said soothingly. "We'll take care of it."

Scott leaned over to kiss Jean. "You're wonderful. You take care of everything. I love you." Jean, pleasantly surprised, kissed him back.

Rogue opened the back door just as the Summerses kissed, then burst from normal sniffles to full-out bawling. "Oh, Gawd! Y'all get t'touch an' kiss an' everythang!" She pulled herself under control. "Sorry. Ah should be okay by lunchtime. The herbal tea ah had for mah cramps an' the one ah had for mah emotions ain't kicked in yet."

"Betsy!" Jean shouted. "Come now or we're leaving without you."

Betsy came, presumably in response to a psionic summons piggybacked on the verbal one. She was wearing one of Hank's sweatshirts. It came past her fingertips, which was why she was rolling up the sleeves. She had on a pair of jeans, as well. Bobby's, by the blown-out knees; she looked nothing at all like the customarily sharp-dressed former-model.

"What are you staring at?!" she snapped, sensing Scott's stare. "None of my clothes fit properly because I'm retaining water!"

Mental note. Two pounds of Godiva chocolate.

"Buying chocolate for other women?!" Jean demanded, closing a telekinetic fist around Scott's throat.

Scott choked out an unintelligible protest.

"Just drive. And don't think this lets you off the hook for dinner."

Scott Summers, knowing better than to say another word, drove. Just my luck to need Jean's telepathy so we can all get our driver's licenses renewed at the DMV -- and just my luck for her, Rogue, and Betsy to all have PMS. Sheesh.

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