Playdates and Permission Slips

10. Obligations

Author: Godessreiko

Summary: The playing field gets a little crowded.

Author's Note: Finally! Some sexual situations. but its not what you think. Muhahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa! I'm evil.

Ororo traversed through the baked goods of the Acme and gritted her teeth. Not even the sweet scents of Acme’s bakery could bring her out of her reverie. How dare he? Wait, why did she continually ask that whenever T’Challa was involved. She wanted to slap herself. She carelessly threw two packages of soft baked walnut chocolate cookies into the cart. She groaned when she had to literally drag Lucas away from the ice cream cakes.

“Mo- -”

“No,” came the adamant immediate reply.

“But?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But Dad woulda”

“Of course he *woulda*. He’s desperate to get in your good graces to A. make up for lost time and B. to get under my skin.”

Nate looked down and mouthed “oh” silently. She looked down at him and she sighed.

“I’m sorry. I just…it’s been a rough night.”

“It’s ok, Mom. We’ll have fun tonight with everyone at the potluck. Nate’s coming. SoisRachel” *grumble grumble* “I hope Mr. Howlett can come too. Hangin’ out with him was so cool.”

Ororo furrowed her brow. Logan had disappeared so abruptly when T’Challa had shown up. Damn him, he always had the tendency to do that to people. She made a mental note to herself to track down Logan at the dinner.

They went to the back of the store and picked up some frozen hors d'oeuvres.

“I think that’s good Mom. No one’s gonna eat much anyway.” Lucas stared at his Mom chewing on her bottom lip staring intently at the three items in the cart. She look lost and far away. He hated it when she was like that. More often than not, it was just the two of them. She was his leader, his friend, and of course his mother. He couldn’t and wouldn’t lose her now. His hand slipped into hers as he carefully turned her around to the check-out lanes.

Lucas knew that he had the job of cheering his Mother up. He was always good at that. Always. And no one was going to bring her down again.

After another worthless half hour of trying to find the most efficient and quickest check-out line, Ororo and Lucas were able to leave with groceries in tow and the weight of the world on their shoulders.

~*_*~

Jean looked at her husband with a straight face that screamed anger. He rolled his eyes as he turned from her. Every time Scott tried to bring up Jean’s lack of attentions, disappearing moments, and other suspicious activity she would consistently wrap the conversation around to make him feel awful. It was the old, “you don’t trust me,” or “I’m in this house all damn day, so yes, I go out at night and be myself.” To Scott it wasn’t even a fight, it was now just a natural reaction. Jean should have taken in his slumped shoulders and his defeated responses.

But this time she got original.

Jean wiggled her mouth to help relax her muscles and remove her frown. After a long inhale she turned to her vanity sat down and stared remotely at her own reflection. She watched as he basically ignored her and changed out of his formal work attire into a more casual button down and khaki cargo’s for the dinner tonight. He seemed more than content to ignore the blatantly obvious non-verbal signs of distress she was sending his way.

He tugged on his shirt over his a-tee and could feel Jean watch him in a way she hadn’t in a long time. Then it hit him. He focused on his buttons instead of curling his hands up in a fist. She wasn’t interested in him as much as she was pleasing herself. This was more of her continual selfishness that made Scott the opposite of virile.

He sat down on the bed to put his shoes on and once again ignored Jean’s advertisement for attention as she began to brush her hair in the most attractive way possible with long slow strokes and fingering it so it would land framing her face and down her breasts highlighting all of those features. She flipped her hair back and looked at her husband in the mirror. He wasn’t even paying attention to her. She bit back a grunt and stalked towards him, stopping directly in front of his very “interesting” shoes.

She had taken off her own vest and opened her blouse earlier. Her hands roamed down her husband’s hair to his shoulders and back to his face. Her lithe fingers slipped under his chin and pushed up his face to meet hers.

“Scott, do you still find me attractive?”

“What,” he asked feeling oddly trapped.

“Do you still love me,” she asked as she straddled him and forced him back on the bed in a perpendicular fashion.

“Jesus Jean. I just got dressed. We have to leave in half an hour and we both know that the kids aren’t ready. Rushing them out of the house never works, and we’re always late. This can wait.”

Jean felt a serious force of dread at his lack of answer and his deferment of the subject but continued on undaunted.

“Baby, when was the last time we were like this, hmm?”

“Aw golly gee Jean, I remember JUST having this conversation with you a minute ago. You told me that you are tired more often than not. I suggested hiring a nanny. You got insulted. I suggested less night trips to the gym, you didn’t want to gain weight and it’s your favorite time to go. I come home at night and the kids are studying the house is quiet and you’re…out being yourself. That’s fucking awesome.” Scott didn’t miss his wife’s flinch at his explosive curse. She never backed down from him before, so why now? He was angry and confused and he wanted something less painful and fantastically simple to think about. He closed his eyes as a sign of annoyance, when in reality it was a way to remember an old friend.

Ali drifted in his thoughts as a fleeting but funky punk-ish fairy with a sly smile, midnight hair with a blaze of color, and art on her body that told dozens of stories.

Jean wanted to scream at Scott’s initial lack of response. It was never her intention to completely drive him away. Spilt milk, she thought. She knew that in the end, there would be no way in hell nothing she did would drive Scott away. She reached down to squeeze his erection. There was just one problem.

There wasn’t any.

He was completely limp. As in not interested in the least bit. Jean was immediately worried. This hasn’t happened before. She was about to ask him what was wrong when she peered up at his face.

Scott’s mind ran a mile a minute. Get the dry cleaning done, replace the lactose intolerant milk for Rachel, Nate needed new basketball sneakers, Jean needed to update her insurance information. He needed to write the deposition for his pro bono case as well as make the itinerary for prepping his grand jury defendant. Then he also remembered having to go over Charles‘s taxes to make sure they were in the all-clear…Dammit he had much better things he should have been doing!

Scott’s eyes were closed and his face was relaxed. Jean felt pressure underneath his pants as he slowly started to rise. She sighed as she felt herself wane in defeat even more. Scott had just answered her previous question.

Scott didn’t want to do this right now, and not because of the reasons he gave. He was sick and tired of sex with Jean being all about her. She wanted the attention on her. She needed to be reaffirmed that she was a cocktease. She wanted it her way. That’s it. She wondered why sex became a chore to Scott.

He didn’t want to work hard at…WORK, come home and work the wife, and working with the kids before finally pretending to be sleep.

“Jean, we can’t do this right now.”

“You can make it quick, right.” It wasn’t a question at all.

Scott pushed her off at went to sit up only to be pushed down by his wife.

“Baby common, this isn’t like you.”

“How would you know? You’re barely around anymore.”

Jean ignored the comment and opened his fly. She followed the thin line of his happy trail and wrap her hand around his semi-erect penis. With deliberate movements she began to stroke him, but to no avail.

“Please just relax, ok. Whatever it is you’re angry about, I’m sorry.”

Watching Jean practically force herself on to him proved his point. He didn’t want to have sex right now, she did, so now they were going to have sex. Whatever happened to compromises that left both parties content and sated.

Once again his thoughts drifted to a pair of pale hands strumming a guitar, a euphonic voice whispering an emotional ballad while he gazed up at the stars above him that resembled the pattern on her face. He felt calm and collected while just being able to breathe and rest with her.

Jean smiled when he hardened in her hand. Even though she felt a bad about using Scott like this, she knew it was too late to turn back now. She also that she was in for his infamous cold shoulder later at the pot luck.

He’ll get over, she thought. He always did. Jean’s safety net was indestructible. But all good things must come to an…Jean leaned in to her husband’s neck to suck on it. Oddly enough instead of relaxing and moving towards her, he flinched and tried to scoot away. Damn him, she thought. He was making her think pessimistic thoughts.

As she mounted her husband with his still had this nagging doubt in the back of her mind. Something was obviously wrong with Scott, beside his usual amount of piss-officidy with her. Not only that but she never forgot how Logan all but ran from her today.

Ugg, she looked at the clock as she continued to try to pump an orgasm out of Scott, let alone herself. She would definitely try to track down Logan.

Scott opened his eyes just in time to see Jean glance at the clock. In a past life he had to have committed genocide to deserve this kind of cruel and unusual punishment.

“Ok, I’m done.”

“What? No you’re not.”

“Jean, I just came. I know when I come. Jesus on a stick, they are my balls after all.”

“We should get going.”

“Really, Jean? You sure about that?”

“No need for sarcasm, Scott. I get it.”

They both quietly got dressed and left to find the children to get ready to go. Both Jean and Scott knew a lie when they heard it.

Scott Summers had just faked an orgasm.


~*_*~

Dave watched as Logan furiously unpacked a pallet they had just gotten 10w40. He shook his head silently watching his friend.

“Dude, you finished ten minutes ago. Why are you still here?”

Logan stopped and wiped his brow with the back of his hand getting more oil on his face than he had wiped sweat off.

“I got another five minutes. I can finish unloading. The last thing you need is to put your back out. I think there’s gonna be a few tears if that happens,” he winked at his friend.

Dave laughed then pointed at the clock in the corner of the garage.

“Oh shit,” Logan cried. “I gotta run. Damn, I didn’t even notice it was that late.” He wanted to ask where his head was, but he already knew. Thinking about how he got played took up the majority of his day.

But then there was that little squeaky optimistic voice in his head that kept going off. “Ororo didn’t have the usual motive and behavior of a normal wife-on-the-prowl.” He told the voice to fuck off. The voice would then proceed to nag him about how Ororo had never once been outwardly flirtatious, and seemed nervous and shy. He dropped more expletives at the voice in his head, but the message seeped through.

Ororo hadn’t acted coy or sexually inviting. She seemed preoccupied and more worried. Lucas was always first on her mind, then her business, then whatever it was she was worried about.

Ororo’s list of priorities was drastically different than Jean’s. Logan grinded his teeth at the thought of the red head. With Jean it was always, “lets fuck,” then, “I can’t let Scott find out,” finishing up with, “I’m dropping my kids of at friends/practice/sport/other activity, when can we fuck again/listen to me whine about my horrid life is and how I feel trapped in it.”

Logan realized that until earlier today Ro hadn’t mentioned her life at all. Never in her slight monologue had she mentioned a husband. It just didn’t add up. The pompous arrogant ass-hat had made sure that he put his claim on Ororo with the first words out of his mouth. Logan stroked his chin and remembered her near panic stricken and angry reaction.

That kind of reaction was generally reserved for exes who parted badly. Very Badly.

Logan literally perked up at this. Seeing as how he had Ro one a couple of “almost” dates, and this man couldn’t even get an amicable hello out of the lady. Logan had something tiny boiling in his soul.

Faith.

Faith in himself, and for once, faith in a woman.

He hoped that when he talked to her she wouldn’t be so tight lipped. What was she hiding?

Once in the car, he called Laura to make sure that she was changed and ready.

“Daddy, do we have to stay long?”

“You know your mother is coming too, so yea, we probably do.” Logan winced. He forgot all about Silver and FRIGGIN Vic coming tonight as well. It was beginning to turn into one stellar evening.

Aw damn.


~*_*~

Ramonda looked around at all the tables in the cafeteria. She reorganized some of the platters she called in to be catered for the dinner tonight. Trust New York to have twenty four hour catering businesses. She looked at her son talking on the phone and he smirked triumphantly back at her. His three piece charcoal suit made him look even more intimidating than his attitude and demeanor alone. Ramonda wanted to laugh out loud as faculty, parents, children, and other business types began to file in the dining room. They had their eyes glued to the upper class treats on the trays laid out before them. Most looked around questionably with their own dishes from home in their hands. Some walked straight to the trash can and dumped them in, and didn’t even bother to stay.

Ramonda looked straight at them and mumbled, “Americans.”

T’Challa looked at his stepmother and laughed softly. “Now now, Mother. We are guest here. Let’s not overstay our welcome or insult our hosts for the evening.” He said it loud enough to insult the rest of the people considering the trash can.

“Don’t you think it’s far too late for that,” a very brisk feminine voice said directly behind him.

Before he turned around, T’Challa inhaled and tried to remove the smile. “Ororo, I knew you couldn’t resist...me.” His step-mother merely rolled her eyes.

“Oh please. I would say, don’t flatter yourself, but in all honesty, that is the only place you’ll ever receive any sincere compliments.”

Everyone and everything stopped in the room.

Logan who was nearly dragging a yawning Laura into the dining room looked up at the striking woman with a crooked “huh” written on his face. Laura stifled a giggle.

Lucas glared at both of his parents. “Knock it off, please” he said in a hushed tone. “God, Dad you can be so….never mind. You don’t take me seriously, and Mom, stop starting stuff with him.” He slammed the cookies down on the table, opened them up, grabbed two and walked out. “I’m gonna find Nate,” he said to them as he left. “Oh hey, Logan,” he said as he passed the stout man in the threshold.

“Logan,” Ororo whispered when she saw his shadowed figure in the doorway.

“Hey Ro,” he said quietly. Laura waved at her enthusiastically with her free hand.

“I’m afraid you may have not gotten to be introduced properly earlier. This is my ex-husband. T’Challa, he’s ahh…”

T’Challa stuck out his hand, and literally looked down at Logan in his worn jeans.

Just then, as if on some evil que, Ramonda saddled up behind her step-son and finished the introduction.

“Yes, this is His Esteemed Royal Highness of the Republic of Wakanda, and you are?”

Logan raised his brow and let go of his daughter’s hand to stroke his fuzzy chin. “A royal family of a Republic? Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

The smiles quickly left the faces of the mother and son and found themselves combined on Logan’s face.

In the anxious quiet a family of crushed voices could be heard and the Summer’s family came into view. Jean smiled and came up to T’Challa.

“Oh my gosh, I had no idea that you would be here.” She pulled him off to the corner. “I always that things would turn around for the better between you and Ororo. She would tell me the most awful stories about you. She said that you made her feel constantly inadequate. I knew that she was just exaggerating.”

By this time more people started to mingle and converse. Children disappeared into groups of their own. Scott, Ororo and Logan found themselves drawn into conversation.

Scott glared at Jean. Ororo glared at both Jean and T’Challa. When she heard her friend talk about her and basically call her a liar, she knew that she’d half to watch her tongue, and make sure that Jean knew what it felt like to be talked about. Neither Scott nor Ororo saw how Logan was staring at Ororo.

Two more people walked in the room and headed. The tall blond imposing man walked towards the head of the room. Scott instantly recognized the sway of the shapely hips covered by black silk.

“Hi Ali!!!” He had said with way to loud with way way to much passion. Of course everyone stopped to look. Jean and T’challa had stopped talking to look as well. Jean cocked her head to the side as if she didn’t believe that just happened.

Ali came up and squeezed Scott’s arm. The for of them quickly started to laugh with her funny stories of silly things students have said or done.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen.” The tall blond man held up a glass of orange juice. Everyone turned to give the well dress speaker their attention.

Jean inhaled a surprise squeak and whispered, “Warren?” Scott stiffened up and nearly crushed his soda. Ali felt him changed and rubbed his bicep softly. Ororo didn’t miss the contact.

“Now that everyone is here,” Warren announced, “I can tell you that we have made a decision on our new Board member. As you know, with Xavier’s departure for his campaign, we have need for another member who will help us and provide our children with the absolute best in child care. I am pleased to announce that His Royal Highness Prince T’Challa has accepted our invitation.”

It was obvious that the applause that followed was out of an obligation of politeness.