Scott Summers // CYCLOPS (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cyclopticblasts) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
x_muses2014-10-25 01:33 am
cyclopticblasts) wrote in x_muses2014-10-25 01:33 am
Entry tags:
[ narrative: with diamondgirl ] "You see right through me, I got the feeling of love."
Scott was nervous. That was really unlike him. The only thing that usually got him nervous were bad odds in an impeding battle when he worried the team would come home with less of their numbers than they set out with. That didn't even really touch this particular thread of nervous he was experiencing right, and he knew exactly why too.
Up the hall of the large Hamptons beach house with views of the water, he could hear Emma yammering away on the phone in a no-nonsense way that she got when she was dealing with business. She was checking in back at the school to make sure everything was kept within manageable realms of peace-keeping. That meant speaking to at least five different people to make sure they were all giving her the same story. She had differing levels of trust for them. She knew she could take, for example, Sage's word as gospel. But if it was Gambit or Warren who she got, they could give her the run-around or just tell her what she wanted to hear, depending on what mood they were in. Scott trusted Warren impeccable, but he also knew the guy didn't like his authority questioned if he was left in charge. But Emma wasn't yelling - yet - so it was a good start at least.
But he had some time up his sleeve. More time than he even had when she had been getting ready for their date earlier and he nearly crashed out snoring on the bed waiting for her. They kept each other up the night before, and it had nothing to do with not being able to sleep. That night, after a relaxing day making the most of their time alone together, they went to a nearby restaurant for dinner together, and Emma had commented that it was a clear night and she wanted to walk along the beach with him when they got back to the house. Of course, Scott initially thought that was a one-way ticket to sex on the beach again, but she issued him a stern glare that told him he had to behave himself, at least initially, because she wanted it to be romantic.
He could be romantic. It had been a learning curve for him over the years when he had spent far too much time getting caught up in X-Men business and neglecting his relationships, but Emma wouldn't stand for any sub-par quality in a relationship. She expected to be wined and dined, she expected to be romanced. She didn't need a man, as she firmly told him in the early days, but if she had one, she expected him to treat her right. When he had the time, Scott did. He bought her flowers on the regular, they escaped for a date here and there if they could, and he tried to cook dinner for her at least once a week, even if it was just cheese on toast.
Tonight, he had to get it right. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to pull out the bottom drawer that was otherwise empty save for a small black velvet box lined with silver edging. He had stashed it there the day they arrived, pushing it right to the back. Emma didn't have the patience to snoop here where it was evident that Warren kept no personal effects and it was merely just another property on his investment portfolio. Glancing up over at the door just to make sure what he was hearing was Emma still on the phone, and then he snapped the box open.
Nestled inside was a diamond ring that he had been tormenting himself over for weeks now, wondering if it was good enough or big enough for the Queen of Diamonds herself. Every time he looked at it, he changed his mind. This was one part he really didn't want to fuck up, but he still wasn't sure. The day he went to have it designed, he had literally been gone all day, into the evening, and she had bitchily interrogated him about leaving a pile of work for her when he pissed off without word. There had been a word, but not a very good one. He left her a Post-It stuck to her laptop that said 'I'll be back later. Love you.' He didn't get laid that night, to say the very least.
The choice of ring wasn't why he was nervous, though. It was what it represented and what he was about to face. The last time he had been in this position, it had all ended up going horribly wrong. He was fearful history might repeat and he was having those niggling doubts in his gut again. Did he want to tempt fate? Or was he just being insecure for no real reason? There was no question about it, he wanted to do this. He and Emma had been together long enough now for him to know there was no one else for him. They were so different to each other, but they matched. They worked. What more could they ask for?
He was also worried that she might think he was stupid. Did she even believe in marriage? He didn't really know the answer to that. Their tumultuous past was extensive and painful, to say the least. Did Emma just feel what they had now was plenty, and there was no need to rock the boat with something frivolous like getting married?
In his swirl of thoughts, he hadn't realised that, up the hall, Emma's voice had stopped to signal the end of the telephone conversation. "Scott? You're not half in a coma again, are you? You don't have the ass to pull off the Sleeping Beauty routine."
Scott had jumped when she appeared in the doorway, large hands managing to close over the box entirely, concealing it from view long enough for him to spirit it away into his tux jacket pocked. He stayed sitting, looking up at her sheepishly but hoped he was doing a good job of covering his guilt so she wouldn't suspect anything. Thank god for glasses, when apparently the eyes were the windows to the soul. "No, but I was coming this close to starting to jerk off without you," he joked, holding up his thumb and index finger very close together.
Emma peered at him with an almost challenging air of superiority. "Well, that would have been a complete waste of this," she revealed, unbuttoning her white knee-length coat and pulling it open to reveal a diamond encrusted bra and thong that actually had him choking on his own tonsils with a sharp intake of breath. She stood there, smirking at him and raising an eyebrow, completely, 100% comfortable in her own skin and anything expensive she could adorn herself in to compliment it.
Scott got up and went over to scoop her up into his arms to carry her back to the bed. "I'm going to need a pit-stop before that moonlit walk..." he told her, before claiming her lips in a heated kiss.
Up the hall of the large Hamptons beach house with views of the water, he could hear Emma yammering away on the phone in a no-nonsense way that she got when she was dealing with business. She was checking in back at the school to make sure everything was kept within manageable realms of peace-keeping. That meant speaking to at least five different people to make sure they were all giving her the same story. She had differing levels of trust for them. She knew she could take, for example, Sage's word as gospel. But if it was Gambit or Warren who she got, they could give her the run-around or just tell her what she wanted to hear, depending on what mood they were in. Scott trusted Warren impeccable, but he also knew the guy didn't like his authority questioned if he was left in charge. But Emma wasn't yelling - yet - so it was a good start at least.
But he had some time up his sleeve. More time than he even had when she had been getting ready for their date earlier and he nearly crashed out snoring on the bed waiting for her. They kept each other up the night before, and it had nothing to do with not being able to sleep. That night, after a relaxing day making the most of their time alone together, they went to a nearby restaurant for dinner together, and Emma had commented that it was a clear night and she wanted to walk along the beach with him when they got back to the house. Of course, Scott initially thought that was a one-way ticket to sex on the beach again, but she issued him a stern glare that told him he had to behave himself, at least initially, because she wanted it to be romantic.
He could be romantic. It had been a learning curve for him over the years when he had spent far too much time getting caught up in X-Men business and neglecting his relationships, but Emma wouldn't stand for any sub-par quality in a relationship. She expected to be wined and dined, she expected to be romanced. She didn't need a man, as she firmly told him in the early days, but if she had one, she expected him to treat her right. When he had the time, Scott did. He bought her flowers on the regular, they escaped for a date here and there if they could, and he tried to cook dinner for her at least once a week, even if it was just cheese on toast.
Tonight, he had to get it right. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to pull out the bottom drawer that was otherwise empty save for a small black velvet box lined with silver edging. He had stashed it there the day they arrived, pushing it right to the back. Emma didn't have the patience to snoop here where it was evident that Warren kept no personal effects and it was merely just another property on his investment portfolio. Glancing up over at the door just to make sure what he was hearing was Emma still on the phone, and then he snapped the box open.
Nestled inside was a diamond ring that he had been tormenting himself over for weeks now, wondering if it was good enough or big enough for the Queen of Diamonds herself. Every time he looked at it, he changed his mind. This was one part he really didn't want to fuck up, but he still wasn't sure. The day he went to have it designed, he had literally been gone all day, into the evening, and she had bitchily interrogated him about leaving a pile of work for her when he pissed off without word. There had been a word, but not a very good one. He left her a Post-It stuck to her laptop that said 'I'll be back later. Love you.' He didn't get laid that night, to say the very least.
The choice of ring wasn't why he was nervous, though. It was what it represented and what he was about to face. The last time he had been in this position, it had all ended up going horribly wrong. He was fearful history might repeat and he was having those niggling doubts in his gut again. Did he want to tempt fate? Or was he just being insecure for no real reason? There was no question about it, he wanted to do this. He and Emma had been together long enough now for him to know there was no one else for him. They were so different to each other, but they matched. They worked. What more could they ask for?
He was also worried that she might think he was stupid. Did she even believe in marriage? He didn't really know the answer to that. Their tumultuous past was extensive and painful, to say the least. Did Emma just feel what they had now was plenty, and there was no need to rock the boat with something frivolous like getting married?
In his swirl of thoughts, he hadn't realised that, up the hall, Emma's voice had stopped to signal the end of the telephone conversation. "Scott? You're not half in a coma again, are you? You don't have the ass to pull off the Sleeping Beauty routine."
Scott had jumped when she appeared in the doorway, large hands managing to close over the box entirely, concealing it from view long enough for him to spirit it away into his tux jacket pocked. He stayed sitting, looking up at her sheepishly but hoped he was doing a good job of covering his guilt so she wouldn't suspect anything. Thank god for glasses, when apparently the eyes were the windows to the soul. "No, but I was coming this close to starting to jerk off without you," he joked, holding up his thumb and index finger very close together.
Emma peered at him with an almost challenging air of superiority. "Well, that would have been a complete waste of this," she revealed, unbuttoning her white knee-length coat and pulling it open to reveal a diamond encrusted bra and thong that actually had him choking on his own tonsils with a sharp intake of breath. She stood there, smirking at him and raising an eyebrow, completely, 100% comfortable in her own skin and anything expensive she could adorn herself in to compliment it.
Scott got up and went over to scoop her up into his arms to carry her back to the bed. "I'm going to need a pit-stop before that moonlit walk..." he told her, before claiming her lips in a heated kiss.