The X-Project

Jean talks Scott into some prom-related shopping. Afterwards, they have one of those bizarre due-to-genderswitch evenings at Harry's.


Jean had figured out early why guys sit the way they do. Some part of her missed really curling up and getting comfortable, but not squishing... things was important. Very. So now he was lounging on the couch in their suite, reading. Well, trying to read. His eyes kept wandering Scott-wards.

"... what," Scott said warily, from where she was sitting at the desk working on something on the laptop. She glanced back over her shoulder at Jean, raising an eyebrow. "I can feel you contemplating something."

Jean grinned brightly, completely failing to reassure Scott. "Oh, I was just thinking. Have you figured out what you're going to do about this weekend?" Jean had visions of Scott and small black dresses and lots and lots of soft skin... They were very distracting visions.

"This weekend?" Scott asked, blinking in confusion - until the images made their way up the link, and she yelped, unconsciously rising from her chair. "Jean, no! I am not wearing a dress!" She was blushing furiously, despite the obvious indignation.

The blush was adorable. Jean had fallen in love with the blush days ago and was frequently having to fight the evil and keep from tormenting her husband. "Oh, but it's prom. We're down as chaperones, and you know the gender bender's not going to work as an excuse with Marie. And you can't exactly go in my rolled-up jeans and your floppy dress shirts."

"I am not wearing a dress!" Scott closed her mouth, realizing she was repeating herself, and glared at her smiling spouse. "There is such a thing as a pants suit, yes? I've seen you wear them before, even if you do prefer to show off your legs..."

"And your legs are just as show-offable." Jean's grin had widened. "It would be a crime not to."

"You know, when we switch back, I am going to constantly remind you that your sex drive actually quadrupled as a guy. I really, really am."

Jean laughed, standing up to cross the room and drop a kiss on Scott's head. "Are we surprised, though? I mean, this is me we're talking about." He turned, heading into the kitchen and grabbing a glass out of the cupboard.

"We'll still need to go shopping, if you insist on slacks. None of mine will fit right."

"Well, point." Shopping was a little traumatic even without the genderswitch, but Scott supposed she'd survive. "Um... any great ideas? I suppose I should probably have something dressy."

Like a dress... Jean grinned, but very decidedly didn't say it. "We can go looking - I'm sure we can find something nice enough that doesn't offend you, and we ought to even have time to get it tailored."

"Tailored?" Scott asked, sinking back into the chair. "Why tailored? We could just get something off the rack, couldn't we?"

Jean shot a look back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Scott, God, no. It'll hang all funny..." She scrunched her nose in distaste - a habit which looked much stranger on her male face. "Off the rack formal wear is just.. ugh."

"Even when it's pants?" Scott asked innocently, wrinkling her nose.

"Especially when it is pants." Jean would not rant about the fashion industry. She wouldn't. "Waist, ass, hips, thighs, calves..." He ticked off fingers. "There are so many ways for off the rack to just go very, very wrong. If they're long enough in the leg you're swimming at the hips. If there's space for the ass you need an industrial grade belt do pull in the waist." He shook his head. "Men have it easy."

"So I'm discovering. Let's not even talk about the bra," Scott muttered in aggravation, tugging at one of the straps.

"Again, shopping would have helped - at least it would have been your size." Jean came back out into the living room, setting his water glass on the desk so he could wrap his arms around Scott in a hug. "You sure I can't talk you into a dress?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"Damn. You've gone from having legs that won't quit to a libido that won't quit," Scott muttered, amused despite the disgusted tone.

"Mmmm, yes. But you now have teasing fodder forever." Tilting his head, Jean nuzzled at Scott's ear, grinning. "Surely that's worth something..."

"Yes. And I'm never, ever letting you live it down," Scott said primly. "Ever. If we live to be in our nineties."

Jean chuckled, hugging Scott again before standing up properly. "Fair enough. You think you can stand shopping today, or are we putting it off till the last possible minute?"

"I'll bite the bullet," Scott said, giving Jean the puppy-dog eyes. "I might make you buy me dinner, though."

The puppy-dog eyes were devastating with the long dark hair falling in his face. Jean offered Scott a hand, pulling her out of her chair. "I think that can be arranged. "I'll even endeavor not to wine you, dine you and put you to bed, if you want. Be a perfect gentleman."

Scott smirked. "Check back with me after the shopping," she said. "I may need the wine."

--

Harry's had seemed safe enough. None of the regulars knew who they were looking at, of course, although Harry himself had given Scott and Jean keen looks, as if picking up on the resemblance. He hadn't pried, though, and Scott had been perfectly content to find a booth with Jean and order some beer. One beer had led to another, then another, then a pool game - Jean had wanted to try it with the new longer reach the male body provided - and a crushing defeat. Scott was setting up for a second game while Jean hit the men's room when another man approached the table.

"You play pool, sweetheart?" he asked with a wink. He was definitely the ex-football player type, several inches taller than Scott and about twice as big. Scott just eyed him, then went back to setting up the table.

Jean was taking her sweet time - he'd stopped at the bar to collect another pair of drinks and had gotten distracted by the news broadcast on the little tv by the bar.

"Hey, don't be standoffish," the man said with what he probably thought was a winning smile, blocking Scott's way around the table. "It's okay. I'd take it easy on you..."

Scott gave him a tight little smile. "I'm sure you would," she said in a tone it was impossible to take offense at - and went the other way around the table to reclaim her cue. Just in case she had to jab him in the gut with it.

The sense of simmering indignation on the link eventually broke through the, well, simmering indignation Jean was already feeling at the loaded language the news anchor was using and he turned to spot the gorilla by their pool table. Uh-oh.

Scott leaned over the table - and froze as her admirer leaned down too, laying one hand on the edge of the table, as if to get the same view she had of things. The other hand wound up resting on her lower back.

"... I think you want to remove your hand and step back now," she said, perfectly levelly.

Glass met table with an audible thunk and Jean's eyes were like steel when Scott and the gorilla looked over. "This guy bothering you, love?" Although lines like that really worked so much better when Scott said them - he had the solid bulk of muscle that Jean lacked even as a guy.

The man looked up, smirking a bit dismissively at Jean. Scott took the opportunity to plant an elbow into his ribs, quite forcefully. He grunted and stepped back, wheezing a little. "Bitch."

"No, see, if I were a bitch I'd have aimed a little lower. And trust me, I know how much that hurts."

"Shove off, bud," Jean said, stepping closer to Scott. It was an instinctive gesture, and Jean realized after she'd moved that Scott was either going to tease her forever about it or make him sleep on the couch for accidentally implying she couldn't take care of herself. Ah well, too late.

"You're telling me to shove off... twiggy?" he asked with a contemptuous twist of his mouth. "I could break you in half with my little finger."

Scott snorted. "Harry's clientele is usually a little less stereotypical than this. Must be a slow night."

"'I can kill you with my brain' is cliche, but so is 'twiggy'. Just trust me - you don't want to be here anymore and, even if you do, the lady doesn't want you to be here, either." Calling Scott a lady... she was so dead.

Scott blinked and tried not to give an incredulous look. #Speaking of stereotypes...#

#Just playing the part?# she ventured, shooting him a mental 'please don't hit me, too'.

But, during the eyeblink's worth of mental communication, the gorilla, it seemed, hadn't gotten any smarter, and had clearly missed the threat inherent in Jean's words. "The little lady probably doesn't know what she wants, if she's been running around with a pretty boy like you. I'll show her what a real man's like."

Scott rolled her eye - and punched him, hard, in the jaw. It sent him right to the floor, thankfully not damaging any furniture on the way. "Did that jolt your brain back to 'on'?" she snapped.

#God, you're sexy.# And God, Jean had no control over herself anymore.

Already the gorilla was struggling to get back to his feet, but a friend of his appeared at his side. "Cool it, Tom. I'm real sorry about this," he said, glancing up at Scott and Jean.

Scott raised her chin, but gave the second man a curt nod as he hustled his friend away. "Ass," she muttered under her breath.

Jean turned away from the retreating pair, leaning a hip against the pool table and eyeing Scott. "Well, I think it's appropriate that you're every bit as capable of taking care of the idiots who hit on you as I usually am. And I'll find some way to make up for the sudden rush of testosterone to my brain."

"The guy in the bookstore was much more polite." Scott paused as she picked up her pool cue. "Of course, that flustered the crap out of me."

"Mmm, yes, charming is harder to deal with, on the whole. Or at least, harder to deal with so abruptly."

"First we're discussing that new Cormac McCarthy book, and then he's asking me for coffee," Scott muttered, leaning over the pool table again. "And complimenting my smile."

"So he had doubly the good taste, because it's a really pretty smile." Jean couldn't cheat at pool the way she normally did, and their first game proved that he still needed to if he was going to have any chance, so this was a new tactic.

Scott gave him what could only be termed a predatory look. "Stop trying to distract me. I'm going to kick your ass this time, same as I did the last."

Jean sighed theatrically, then grinned. "Well, then can I ogle you the way you usually do me? Since the chance of me actually getting a turn at the table is slim to none."

"Ogle away," Scott said - and made a typically perfect shot, accompanied by a very familiar cheeky smile.