Musings With A Drunk Scott Summers

AN: This takes place between the episodes Excessive Force and Breakdown.

'This means character thoughts or psychic communication'

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolverine X-men and I am making no money off this. They are the property of Stan Lee and Marvel. Please don't sue.

This is only a one-shot so please take the time to review this story. Send me your feedback via email at or post a review on the fanfiction website. I hope you all enjoy this story. It is my first Wolverine and the X-men fic so feedback is very important. Thank you and enjoy the fic.

Xavier Institute

It was another late night at the Xavier Institute. Kitty and Bobby had fallen asleep on the couch after watching a movie, Forge was about to turn in after working on the Danger Room all day, Hank was still in his room working on his laptop, and Wolverine was off doing whatever it was he did when he went out. In all likelihood the X-men's new leader wouldn't be back until the crack of dawn, showing once again that his appreciation for his new responsibilities was still a work-in-progress.

For Emma Frost she welcomed the peace and quiet, but it highlighted so much of what she thought was wrong with this team. The team's newest and most enigmatic member had always been a vocal critic about Logan's management style. He was not a leader by trade. Even after Professor Charles Xavier himself entrusted him to lead, he couldn't set aside his annoying tendencies to run off on his own and fight his own battles. It was arrogant, selfish, and downright pathetic. With Senator Kelly, Magneto, the MRD, and the grim future described by Charles Xavier looming over them, she honestly didn't see how this team was going to succeed with him.

As she casually walked through the halls of the upper level, still too alert to think about sleep, she passed the empty room of Scott Summers, who had also run out for the evening. She found herself stopping for a moment and thinking back to their recent incident with Sinister. Emma had gathered from the minds of the others how Scott had once been the capable leader of the X-men. It was hard to believe now, but there actually had been a time when he succeeded where Logan had been failing at every turn. Why Charles didn't ask him to lead was still a point of debate, but given how messed up he had been with the loss of Jean she was beginning to understand. His attack on Sinister showed her just how deeply he had been affected and how far he was willing to go.

It was almost admirable, a man like Scott losing so much and still fighting on. Even he seemed to realize he was a mere shadow of his former self. Emma once thought he was just weak, but after seeing how he carried himself against Sinister her views had changed. Perhaps he had more to offer than just sorrow and sulking.

Shrugging to herself, Emma kept walking and made her way to the kitchen. There she found Ororo in her bathrobe enjoying a cup of tea. She greeted Emma with a smile, but the blonde telepath barely acknowledged it. Friendliness was not her strongest quality, especially when it was this late.

"Hello Emma. How are you doing this evening?" asked Ororo.

"Bored and restless," she answered simply, "Tell me, Storm, is it always this bland? There are so many other issues the team should be addressing. Yet here we are, alone on a weeknight doing nothing and making no plans to change it."

"It is slow at times, I know. But even the X-men need time to rest and gather themselves."

"Rest doesn't seem to be the issue. It's the direction that concerns me," she said dryly as she poured herself some tea, "Wolverine goes to great lengths to avoid being a real leader. If he had any semblance of skill he would at least have a plan to do something about the future Charles warned us about."

"He is. And I think he's doing well under the circumstances," said Ororo defensively, "I admit, Logan is not a leader by nature. But he has been doing his best."

"I wonder just how limited his best is. Tell me, was there this much disorder when Charles was here and Scott was the leader?"

Ororo shifted uncomfortably. Unlike Emma, memories of those better times were still fresh in her mind. Even though over a year had gone by, it still felt like yesterday that the world she once knew completely fell apart.

"It was a different time," she said distantly, "And if it's all the same to you, Emma, I would hope you not cast judgment on things you don't understand."

"I'm not judging. I'm just pointing out the facts," she said flatly.

"Maybe so, but you still don't understand. You can never understand because you weren't here. Logan was different then. So was Scott. After the explosion we were all affected. Some were just hit harder than others."

"Are you implying Scott was too weak to overcome it all and Logan was?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying he was overwhelmed in far more profound ways," said Ororo, "Maybe you're right about Logan lacking in his new role as leader. But you're wrong about Scott. He's much stronger than you think."

"After the Sinister incident, I'm more inclined to agree. But whatever strength he does have, it doesn't appear to be enough."

"I think you're just selling him short," said Ororo as she got up to put her dishes away, "You don't know him like I do."

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do," quipped Emma.

Ororo frowned at the blonde telepath. For someone so bent on being an X-man, she didn't make much effort to get along with anybody. Even when she tried to be nice to her, she found ways to push her buttons. That appeared to be a talent of hers, one that was not going to win her any friends here.

She was about to respond. Then the phone started ringing. It was rare they would get any calls at this hour unless it was important. With that in mind, Emma answered it before Ororo much to her chagrin.

"Hello? Xavier Institute," said Emma, a hint of snobbishness in her tone after seeing the look on Ororo's face.

Emma listened in while Ororo watched curiously. The African mutant thought it could be something serious. Perhaps Logan found something in his latest lone venture. Or maybe it was a call from someone with new information on the MRD or the Brotherhood. But to her surprise, Emma's expression shifted. The nature of the call must not have been that serious because it looked like she was trying not to laugh. It must have been something else altogether.

"Hold on, I'll be right over," she sighed.

Emma then hung up the phone and grinned in amusement.

"Who was that? Is something wrong?" asked Ororo in a concerned tone.

"Don't worry, darling. It's nothing world-threatening. Scott just got piss-faced drunk and he needs someone to drive him home."

"Oh heavens," groaned Ororo, rubbing her temples in frustration.

"Relax, I'll take care of it," she said as she casually walked off, "Who knows? This might just make tonight a little less boring."

Lucky's Bar & Pub – 20 Minutes Later

Emma pulled up to the bar in her high end white Corvette not knowing what to expect. This section of the city had its share of bars and clubs. Some were friendlier than others, full of dancing and raucous socialization. Then there were the bars and pubs that weren't nearly as welcoming. They were the bars bikers, gangs, and deviants liked to hang out, have a drink, and shoot pool. From the looks of it, Scott had chosen the latter.

"This should be entertaining," she mused dryly.

When she entered the bar, she immediately drew her share of attention. At this time of night, the bar was pretty full and if the motorcycles parked outside were any indication a biker gang was passing through. A number of men gave her that predatory look and a few even let out a couple of cat calls. It was a reaction Emma was all too used to. Men couldn't help themselves when they were around her. It was the price of her being so beautiful and men being hard wired to be pigs. Being a telepath, she could even pick up on their racy thoughts. One man even decided to act on them.

"Hey there, missy. Playboy bus break down or something?" commented a burly man at least twice her size, "Cause I could be your handyman!"

"Oh please, if your body odor is anything like your repair skills I'm amazed you managed to get yourself dressed this morning."

"Body odor?! Babe, if you think I'm gonna take that from some big breasted bimbo you're…"

But Emma wouldn't hear it. Using her telepathy, she froze the man in mid sentence and gave him a little mental shock that made his face contort awkwardly.

"You'll do nothing other than turn around, walk back to your table, and pass out so you don't harass anyone else with that charm of yours."

"Ungh…yes ma'am," the man groaned.

Following her psychic orders, the man awkwardly stumbled back to his table in the corner. As soon as he sat down, his passed out as if he had just been hit in the head with a wrecking ball. His face crashed into a bowl of peanuts, leaving Emma humored and the rest of the men giving her the look with a clear warning. She was not in the mood to be hit on and would not tolerate such advances.

Luckily, they all got the message and let her get through the crowd. She earned a few suspicious looks, but she didn't care. She was just wanted to get out of this unsavory place with all these unsavory people as quickly as possible. In the morning she would have to talk to Scott about finding a different place to get drunk.

The pub was small so she didn't have to look far to find Scott. As expected, she found him hunched over the bar with several empty glasses of liquor around him. His head was buried in his arms and she could hear him groaning, indicating he was not only thoroughly drunk but in quite a stupor.

"So much for the X-men's natural leader," she mused.

As she walked up to him, the female barkeeper who was dressed in biker apparel similar to the men noticed and addressed her.

"You the one from the institute?" she asked.

"Unfortunately," sighed Emma, "How much has he had?"

"I lost count after the third shot of bourbon," she admitted, "He kept asking for more and the next thing I know he's completely soused."

"And you couldn't bring yourself to cut him off?" scoffed Emma, "Just because you're in a bar with arrogant men doesn't mean you have be as foolish as them."

"Guy seemed like a regular drunk! I didn't know he had such piss poor tolerance!"

"He's a newcomer to the world of alcoholism. His tolerance is still building."

Emma tried lifting Scott up a bit. He was still conscious, but clearly out of it. He seemed somewhat surprised by her presence, but was too drunk to really react.

"Come on, Scott. Pull yourself together," she said.

"Hnn…Emma? What the hell are you doing here?" he said in a slurred tone.

"Saving what's left of your liver," Emma answered, "Now get up so we can get out of this hole."

"I…I'm not done yet. I'm not drunk enough."

"Scott, your breath smells like gasoline and you can barely stand! Admit it, you've reached your limits. Let's not test them in a place like this."

"Oh why not? It's such a friendly place, Lucky's Bar and Pub," said Scott obnoxiously, "Good people, good food, and no watered down booze! I wouldn't want to get drunk anywhere else!"

"You sure you've only had alcohol, Scott? Because you must be hallucinating," said Emma dryly.

"I'm not THAT drunk. Ask the jukebox. It agrees with me!" said Scott.

Emma looked at him strangely, not sure whether to be humored or disturbed. She had seen a number of sides of Scott Summers, especially recently. But she never saw a side like this, utterly inebriated and incoherent. She had to admit it was novel, but this was hardly the place to explore it.

"I'll get in touch with the jukebox later, Scott. For now, I'm taking you back to the institute," said Emma in an assertive yet coaxing tone.

"You can't make me! I can still go a few more rounds!" he said in a slurred tone.

"Try and stand up on your own and prove it," she grinned.

"I'll show you!"

Emma stepped back while Scott tried to get up from the stool. He barley made it one step before tripping on his own feet and stumbling to the floor. It forced Emma to catch him before he really hurt himself. She was a bit overwhelmed at first by the weight of his frame, but she managed to keep him up somewhat. What was more awkward, though, was how his hands landed right on her breasts. She wasn't sure if that was Scott's doing, but it did unnerve her somewhat.

"Scott…hands," she said sternly.

He let out another round of groans. Apparently just moving was a daunting challenge. So was coordination. Upon seeing Emma's angry expression for his little grope, his soused mind began to concede he was pretty out of it.

"Ugh…okay, maybe I am a little drunk," he muttered.

"Now we're getting somewhere," she said, struggling to hold him up, "Now follow me to my car. I'm getting you out of here before you make an even bigger fool of yourself."

"I'm no fool! You know who's a fool? That guy with the bucket on his head! What's his name again? Magneta? I bet I can kick his ass! Where's the car? Let's go!"

"Okay, scratch that goal. You've officially made a fool of yourself," groaned Emma.

"Oh you haven't seen anything yet, Emmie! I'm just getting warmed up!"

Emma rolled her eyes as she led him out the front door. As she did, a few other bikers laughed and joked.

"Some boyfriend you got there! You must be real understanding to let him get this shit faced!"

"If only my old lady was so accepting. What's the matter missy? Got a think for the weaker drunks?"

"Ugh, he's not my boyfriend!" she groaned as Scott nearly stumbled again, "And if you don't want a psychic induced seizure you'll all shut up! I've got a very troubled man to get home and I don't need your bullshit making it harder!"

Most shut up under her forceful tone. But some still snickered.

"Damn, some guys have all the luck."

Emma groaned to herself again as she helped Scott out into the parking lot. He was so drunk he could barely walk straight. He kept stumbling with every other step, forcing Emma to catch him. She briefly contemplated knocking him out with her telepathy, but he was too heavy for her to carry and a drunk mind wasn't as easy to hit as a sober one. In addition she didn't want to have the thoughts of a drunk running around in her head.

They were about halfway to her car when Scott started mumbling again. He was still pretty buzzed and didn't seem too aware of his surroundings.

"Hnn when did it get so cold? Could someone turn up the heat?" he said.

"We're outside, Scott," groaned Emma, "Please hold it together a bit longer. We're almost at my car."

"Your car? I don't need your car! I bought my own car! It's around here somewhere. I think I parked it over there," he said pointing to the east.

"Scott…that's not a parking lot. That's a pond," Emma pointed out.

"A pond? That wasn't there when I parked! Somewhat put it there! I bet it was Magneta! Or that Scarfy Witch! Let's go find out!"

"We'll investigate that later, Scott. For now, just get in my car so we can get out of here."

"Yes sir. Mr. Emmeral!"

Emma almost laughed at those last comments. A drunk Scott Summers was kind of amusing. He wasn't like the other drunks she knew in her life. He wasn't trying to pick a fight. He wasn't being violent. He was just being an obnoxious fool. Considering his recent demeanor in wake of the Sinister fight, it was an upgrade.

They finally got to her car. There Scott fell over on the hood and groaned. Emma tried to get him upright again. He was still pretty uncoordinated so she had to open the door for him. He continued stumbling. She tried helping him in, but he still bumped his head in the process.

"Ooh, when did my car get so small?" he groaned.

"Oh hell," muttered Emma, "At least you're too drunk to feel that."

"Uh…why is my head ringing?" he groaned, "Is my phone ringing? I'll bet it Logan! Calling me to say he's still pissed about his bike! I'll show him! I'll tell him where to stick what's left of that bike of his!"

He tried reaching for his phone, but he was too drunk to realize he didn't have it with him. Emma once again had to stop herself from laughing. This was just too entertaining.

"You can call him when we get back to the institute, Scott," she coaxed as she settled him in, "I'm sure he'll love to hear your input."

"He better! He's like that guy in that movie that stole that bike from that guy with the girl who looked like Femke Jennsen!" he went on as Emma helped fasten his seatbelt for him, "I love that movie! Femke Jennsen is so pretty! Why did she flirt with that other guy? He was a jerk! She should just stay with that good guy who looks like James Marsden! Wait…was even in that movie?"

"My kingdom for a video camera," chuckled Emma, "If only the others could see this. They would never stop laughing."

Once Scott was strapped in, Emma closed the door and got into the driver's side. She checked one last time to make sure Scott was strapped in. He was slouched back on her seat, looking as drunk as ever. Now that they were out of the bar she could see just how messed up he was. His hair was a mess, his clothes were wrinkled and stained, and she could still smell his breath. On the flipside, this was as content as she had ever seen him since her arrival. It was still disturbing, but it put Scott Summers in a different light.

Emma then started her car and pulled out from the parking lot. Along the way she did see Scott's car. It wasn't parked anywhere near where he said it was. They would have to retrieve it tomorrow or get it towed. She had a feeling Scott wouldn't be too upset with it. He would be lucky to remember most of this night anyways.

As they started driving down the road, Scott began to stir again. He was not done making a fool of himself in his alcohol induced stupor.

"Where are we going? Is this a mission?" he said in a slurred tone.

"Yes, Scott. It's a mission," teased Emma, "Our mission is to get you home and in bed before you make too big a fool of yourself."

"Where are the others? It sounds like we're going to need backup!" he proclaimed.

"Trust me, you don't want them here for this," grinned Emma.

"To hell with that! A mission is a mission! Call the X-men! X-Force! X-factor! Whatever the hell they're name is! Get the blackbird and that silvery thing with the helmet! We don't have a second to spare!"

"Are you trying to be leader again?"

"What are you talking about? I am the leader! That's my job! I lead us on all the missions! I don't back down! I never back down! I stay focused! I make the right decisions! And I…"

He stopped in the middle of his rant abruptly and groaned. The former X-leader then leaned against the window on his side and rubbed his temples.

"Something wrong, Scott? It sounded like you were on quite a roll?" snickered Emma.

"I…I'm fine. My head feels weird though. Is there something in my eye?"

"Scott, I can't see your eyes. You're wearing your ruby quartz glasses, remember?"

"Oh yeah…ruby quartz! I love that color," he said, still clutching his head, "They make everything look so pretty. Just like Jean's hair. She always had such pretty hair."

"Now you're talking about Jean's hair? What about the mission?"

"What mission?"

Emma nearly lost her grip on the wheel. She was trying so hard not to start laughing hysterically. This was just too much. It started as annoying and pathetic in the bar. Now it was the funniest thing she had ever seen. She was not known for her sense of humor, but this was one instance where she couldn't maintain her usual hardened demeanor. Alcohol did strange things to people and Scott was no exception. But she never expected it to affect him like this.

He continued muttering and mumbling about Jean's hair as they made their way onto the parkway. Traffic was light so it wouldn't be long before they were back at the institute. Emma was tempted to take the scenic route for a moment, hoping to prolong this entertaining escapade of a drunk Scott Summers. But as funny as it was, the sooner she got him home the better. It wouldn't be long before he passed out and it would probably be best if he passed out in his bed.

As they drew closer to the mansion Scott's obnoxious demeanor waned somewhat. He kept leaning against his window, rubbing his head. He was muttering something under his breath. It was too incoherent to make sense of, but it sounded like the usual drunk talk. After a while it got a little clearer and Emma started making out what it was.

"Uugh's not fair. Logan's no leader guy. He's a jerk. He tried to take my Jean. He said he liked redheads. Said is she a natural redhead? I should've kicked his ass! Why did Jean have to stop me?"

It sounded like an interesting story. Emma wasn't sure if that was drunken ramblings or if that was something real. Did Logan really go after Jean? Did Scott actually pick a fight with him? That would explain a number of things. She leaned in and listened to more.

"Oooh Jean," he groaned, "Why did you have to go? We were so happy. Was it me? Did you not like that necklace I gave you? I miss you so much. I miss your hair…you're eyes…you're smile…you're butt…oh you had such a great butt."

Emma snickered again, but at the same time she couldn't help but be a little intrigued. Even when he was drunk, Scott Summers was pretty hung up on Jean Grey. He must have loved her a great deal to still be thinking about her when he was so drunk. Any love that could endure this level of alcohol consumption had to be pretty meaningful. It was something the blonde telepath wasn't sure how to take.

She made a turn onto the main back road that led to the institute. It wasn't much further from here. In about five more minutes they would be back at the mansion and Scott could start working on dealing with the inevitable hangover. He continued mumbling, but he eventually turned to Emma again with his drunken daze.

"You don't think I'm a bad leader, do you Emerald?" he said in a slurred tone.

"Oh Scott, why do you ask serious questions when you know you're not going to remember the answer anyways?"

"So you do think I'm a bad leader?" he said.

"I rest my case," she grinned.

"So Logan was right. I can't lead the team like a good leader guy outta," he muttered.

"I wouldn't say it like that. For one, your grammar is atrocious. But you can still lead one day. You just have to pull yourself together, Scott."

"I am together! I'm so together I can take on the entire MRD! Just give me a chance! I can do it! Booze or no booze!"

"I'm sure you'll get your chance," said the blonde telepath in a humored tone, "Even when you're drunk you still have the desire. That says plenty about you."

"Really? You really think so, Emerald?"

"It's Emma, Scott. And yes. I think so."

Scott then gave her a drunken smile. It was probably the first time she had seen Scott smile since she joined the team. She wasn't sure why but she found herself smiling back.

"Thanks you Emma," he said drunkenly, "You're nice…and beautiful. You have such pretty eyes. Nice hair. Nice breasts."

"Oh, even coming from a drunk that's so sweet," said Emma, "Get enough liquor in you and you're as charming as any guy I've ever known."

"Good for me!" said Scott in a slurred tone, "But that's gonna be a problem."

"How do you figure?"

"Liquors coming back up. Better pull over," he groaned.

"Oh hell!" groaned Emma.

He was already covering his mouth and groaning nauseously. Not wanting to put her car at risk, she promptly pulled over and unlocked the doors. Before the car even came to a complete stop, Scott opened the door and stumbled out. Then while on his hands and knees he started vomiting heavily.

"Huuuahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he gagged.

It was a disgusting sound. Emma could barely watch from the driver's seat. Despite her revulsion, she put the car in park and got out to help him. He was blowing reddish pink chunks all over the curb. It reeked of booze and bile and Scott's limbs shook as he tried to hold himself up. It went on for a good two minutes. In between puking, he let out a number of dry heaves. At one point his glasses almost fell off. Emma made sure they stayed on and held him up so he didn't fall into a puddle of his own vomit.

"Ugh! I don't remember eating that!" groaned Scott.

"Please! Let's not get into details, shall we?" said Emma, getting a little nauseous herself, "Just tell me if there's anything left?"

"I…I don't know," groaned Scott, "I think I done for…"

But before he finished, he heaved one last time. Emma forced herself to look away. The noises of the vomit splattering over the pavement were sickening enough. She held him up by the shoulders until he was done. Once he finished he rose up and wiped his mouth off with his arm.

"Okay, now I'm done," he groaned.

"You better be!" Emma threatened, "I don't want any of that gunk in my car!"

"I'll be fine. I'm a good boy," he said in a slurred tone.

Emma rolled her eyes. This wasn't as entertaining anymore. It was just disgusting. Trying hard not to gag from the lingering smell, she helped Scott back into the car. He went a little easier this time, but still hit his head. Even throwing up hadn't dampened his drunken state. It appeared it was something he was going to have to sleep off. Hopefully that wouldn't involve any more puking.

Once he was back in the car, Emma rushed back to the driver's side and got going again. Scott was still groaning, but at least the smell wasn't as bad. It was a good thing they didn't have much further to go. She didn't want to have to pull over again for a stunt like this.

"Just hang in there a bit longer, Scott. We're almost home," she told him.

"Yes sir," he muttered.

Emma collected herself and drove the rest of the way. Scott stayed quiet this time, but continued mumbling incoherent phrases under his breath. She still heard Jean and Logan's name a number of times. But she also heard hers as well. He was still nixing her name with phrases like Emerald and Emmie, but he was clearly referring to her. Something about that made her smile again. It was kind of an honor to be part of Scott's drunk musings. It showed she was having an impact on him. It seemed only fitting since he had such an impact on her. Maybe in the future he could show it without being drunk.

At last, they pulled up to the institute driveway. It seemed like a much longer drive than she remembered. Scott had done nothing if not make it memorable. This night had been so boring, but this definitely livened it up. It wasn't always for the best of reasons, but it was better than nothing. And she still had to get Scott up to his room.

Upon pulling into the driveway, Emma turned the car off and got out. She walked over to the passenger's side and opened the door.

"We're home, Scott. Come on, let's get you to bed," she said.

"No thanks, I'm trying to quit," he mumbled.

"Oh no you don't," she said in bemusement as she undid his seatbelt, "You're not staying in my car tonight. You're going up to your room where you're going to sleep this off."

"Hnn…yes sir," he groaned.

"Ma'am. That's yes, ma'am!" she said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't want any ham. Can we have chicken instead?"

"Oh forget it."

"Forget what?"

Emma tried to stay serious, but Scott wasn't making that easy for her. She held back her laughter as she helped him up out of the car, hitching his arm around her and kicking her door shut before leading him back into the mansion. The lights were off for the most part. It was a good thing too because nobody needed to see Scott like this. She had enough fun with it on her own. She wasn't sure if this was the first time someone had to drive a drunk Scott Summers home. But she was fairly certain it was never this eventful.

Scott kept dragging his feet, but managed to say upright as they reached the foyer. She stared helping him up the stairs, having him lean on the rails to keep himself from falling. He groaned with each step he took. After all the puking he did, she didn't blame him for being lightheaded. They were almost at the top when they passed Forge, who looked like he was finally turning in.

"Whoa, what the happened to him?" he asked.

"Don't ask," muttered Emma.

"You need help? He looks pretty…"

"I though I told you not to ask," said Emma firmly, "I'll take care of this."

"Right, I get it," said Forge, holding his hands up innocently, "Um…goodnight."

"Goodnight Forman," said Scott in a slurred tone.

"Forman?" laughed Forge.

"Don't even think about it, Forge," said Emma.

Forge backed off, but never stopped grinning. He wisely didn't push Emma. It was a good thing too because that meant she didn't have to wipe his memory. But if he started asking questions in the morning, she may end up having to.

Once at the top of the stairs, Emma helped Scott stumble the rest of the way to his room. Just as they entered Scott nearly passed out. He stumbled against the door, groaning drunkenly. Emma struggled to hold him up. He seemed intent on drawing this endeavor out for whatever reason. Given what she saw from him tonight, it was only fitting.

"Just a little bit further, Scott," she coaxed him.

"To where? Heaven?" he muttered.

"No, but for a drunk it's the next best thing."

Just as they reached the bed, Scott's limbs finally gave out. He fell face first onto the bed in a drunken daze. Emma couldn't hold him up this time. It was another humorous antic that she tried not to laugh at. If only she could get a picture of this, Scott Summers face down in his bed, it would make this evening complete. But knowing it wasn't healthy for a drunk to fall asleep like this, she helped adjust him so he would fall asleep comfortably. It took some coordination on her part, but she managed to get it so he was lying on his side with his head on his pillow.

Once he was in position, Emma let out a sigh of relief. She had done it. She successfully got Scott Summers from his drunken stupor at the bar to his bedroom. It had been quite an experience, one she wouldn't soon forget. It definitely made this night more interesting. She was almost sad to see it end. But seeing Scott now looking very much out of it in bed, she was content to leave it here. Once again she found herself smiling at him for reasons she didn't necessarily understand. It could have been the sheer humor of it all or it could have just been the fun of spending a night with Scott Summers. Whatever the case, it was a nice feeling.

In the spirit of this feeling she did one last favor for him. She took his dirty shoes off and set them aside at the foot of his bed. She also pulled the covers up over him. She was almost tempted to get him out of those dirty clothes of his, but that would have been very awkward. And she didn't wish to push her luck. She may not be able to control her herself if she did. Once he was nice and tucked in, Emma smiled one last time at the image before her.

"Goodnight Scott," she said, "Thanks for making this night so interesting."

Then in his half-unconscious state, she heard a response.

"Hnn…goodnight, Jean," he said, "Thanks for tucking me in. You're so sweet."

Emma tensed when she heard that. But she remembered briefly that he was drunk. She couldn't take it too seriously. Despite the awkwardness, she found herself lingering.

"Are you in the mood for some lovemaking tonight?" Scott went on, "Because I can work up the energy if you can."

"Tempting as that may be, darling, but you need rest," she said, blushing at his words.

"Hnn…rest," he said, "Yeah, rest is good. I love you."

Emma tensed again, this time in a different way. Those words, which she knew were not exactly meant for her, struck her in a way she didn't expect. Even if they were the mindless musings of a drunk, they still left a powerful impact. The young telepath looked away briefly, trying not to let it get to her too much. She took a moment to collect herself. Then in a strange way she found herself going along with it.

"I love you too, Scott. See you in the morning," she said softly.

What happened next was also unexpected. Scott was pretty much out cold at this point. He wasn't going to remember anything at this point. With that in mind, Emma felt daring. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Despite the lingering smell of alcohol and nausea, it felt nice. It sent shivers down her spine. Even if it was in a drunken daze, it still hit her on an emotional level.

Sensing now that he was fully unconscious, Emma lingered a bit longer. Then she finally made her leave. She kept smiling as she walked out of his room. Before she closed his door, she took one last look at his sleeping form. She learned more about Scott when he was drunk than she had when he was sober. Now she felt more intrigued by this man than ever before.

Since she arrived at the mansion, something had drawn her to Scott Summers. The reasons were complicated, but on a strictly personal level she saw him differently than the others. He was a man who had the love of his life ripped away from him along with his mentor and teacher. Yet he continued fighting on. At times it seems he was still searching for a reason to fight. Going out and getting drunk like this showed just how much he was struggling. But taking this and the recent Sinister incident into account, she saw that there was an admirable man in him. It would be risky for her to get close to him at this point. But then again, Emma Frost was never afraid to take risks. And Scott Summers was worth it.


AN: Thank you all for reading. Please remember to review. Post it on the fanfiction website or send it to me via email. Thanks again and I wish everyone the best. Slickboy out.