[Storm]

Ororo Munroe rarely asked people for help. She was an adult, capable of looking after herself and others. And she was an X-man, trusted enough by Scott to be on the senior team and who was an experienced enough mutant to have students of her own. As the unofficial denmother of the institute, she was far more used to doling out advice and comfort than requesting it.

And yet here she was, vaguely mortified and yet still somewhat urgently needing advice, standing outside of Jean and Scott's room with her hands fisted in the long folds of her skirt. She was radiating quiet worry, interspersed with fits and spurts of excitement and anticipation and, really, she was thirty one. She was too old to be nervous about a date of all things.

And yet, after a childhood on the streets and a stint as a goddess and then a life devoted to the teachings of Charles Xavier, was it any surprise that this was her first date? She'd had dalliances in the past, fleeting things, but she was Ororo - everyone's friend and no one's one and only and this entire notion of being brave enough to focus on one person above everyone else was both baffling, unfamiliar and hopelessly alarming.

In theory, she didn't need to knock - she trusted Jean to know that she was there, identifiable from the taste of her mind and the way that lightning ran in her brain as well as her blood - but she did so out of formality, out of politeness. She was here because...well, because she needed help. Because Jean was her best friend. Because she trusted the redhead not to laugh at her for her almost childish naiveté where such things as this were concerned.

And also because...well. No one's relationship was steadier or truer than Scott and Jean's. So who better to (quietly, gracefully, or not) panic a little to about this upcoming date that Aiden had sprung on her with. It wasn't that the man himself made her nervous, more the prospect of change, the notion that she might not be good enough, might not be ready--.

There it was. The way her normally ordered mind was chasing itself in circles until she felt a headache coming on. Which was why she was here, in rather urgent need of her best friend and the calm, affectionate advice that the Institute's counsellor and headmistress was known for.

Jean would know what to say to make all of this that little bit less terrifying...

[Phoenix]

Jean was usually very, very good about keeping her telepathy to herself. Sure she kept a sort of vague mental awareness tapped into the collective consciousness of the Institute but that was nothing specific, nothing that would really invade anyone else’s privacy. It was important to her that those she cared for never think that she abused her gifts to, for lack of a better term, spy on them. Their secrets were their own, their thoughts and feelings deserved to be as preciously guarded as Jean’s own and she only crossed that line in times of direst need.

Or when she was meddling in her best friend’s love life.

Well, meddling wasn’t exactly the right word for it. She was hardly immersing herself in ‘Ro’s head, after all, and prodding her to make the right decision, no matter how great the temptation may be. No, the weather witch had done well on her own in taking the path Jean approved of, taking a chance with Cross. He was a good man, and Jean didn’t need her telepathy to tell her that. In fact, she approved whole-heartedly of two of the hardest working people at the Institute spending time both together and away from work.

Jean had, for all intents and purposes, grown up with Ororo as both best friend and sister, her tumultuous teenage years soothed by the steadfastness of her older companion. Ororo had been there for the frustrations of mastering her telekinesis, for the tears that came with being overwhelmed by her telepathy and also for the quiet despair that came with her discovery of the firebird that so loved to toy with her life. The bond between the two women had been tested again and again, always emerging even stronger than before.

The years spent together had also resulted in ‘Ro being one of those minds Jean was constantly tuned into at some quiet level or another, always easily reached for. Right now it required even less effort than usual, with the way the familiar lightning-charged mind waited just beyond the barrier made of her bedroom door. And was she nervous?

Abandoning the book she’d been trying to read on the bed, Jean was in the process of crossing the space between it and the door when Ororo’s knock sounded, and it was only a split second after that before the redhead pulled open the door. Normally she might have asked what the woman needed, but after her little snooping session Jean actually had a fairly good idea, which accounted for the unapologetically cheery grin that was already well in place on her face. Her eyes sparked with more life than they’d had in recent weeks, because if anything could pull her out of her sorrows it was the happiness of one of the people she loved most.

“So,” she asked not at all casually, her hands reaching for ‘Ro’s to tug her into the room, “Where’s he taking you?” At least she was saving the weather witch from having to explain her conundrum?

--------------------

(Okay, so I know, I KNOW, snooping telepaths are bad, and I promise to have a talk with Jean about this later, but the head canon was too adorable to pass up. SHE JUST WANTS 'RO TO BE HAPPY. This could also be the tiredness talking, so yeah. No likie, just say so, yeah?)

[Storm]

As a young mutant, newly arrived at the Institute and as prickly as a porcupine, Ororo had been twitchy about the telepath thing in general. The Professor...the Professor got away with it because he was her saviour, the man who had given her the option for a life other than the lofty, lonely one she had been leaving. A young, too-friendly redheaded white girl who Ororo found simply baffling at times and quite often snapped at whenever Jean made her feel like an ignorant savage? Entirely untrustworthy where the power to invade people's minds was concerned. Even knowing that the Professor had sealed off her telepathy hadn't calmed Ororo's initial hostility...but the years and their growing friendship had.

Now? Jean's telepathy, her judicious morals and her unspoken understanding of when it was okay to read the worry that Ororo was practically exuding from her very skin was a blessing. It meant that the white-haired woman didn't need to find the words to explain her uncommon confusion, or how she was feeling because Jean already knew.

It was an almost pathetically grateful look that Ororo sent her best friend as the younger woman towed her into the room. Inside, she looked fretful again, almost doubly so now that she was in a safe environment where no one other than Jean would see her, and her hands continued to twine themselves restlessly in the cloth of her skirt.

"That's the problem, he won't tell me." Ororo was too level a woman to do anything as inelegant as wail, but there was an imploring edge to her low voice as she resisted the urge to pace around Jean and Scott's room. "Jean, I don't know what to do - he asked me on a date, and it's official and I've never been one before and..."

She was ranting. Like one of panicked teenage charges. And the weather witch forced herself to take a breath, made her hands release their tight hold on lightly woven cloth and ran them through her thick, pale hair instead as she reached determinedly for some semblance of her usual calm and poise.

"Am I being a fool?" she asked Jean, knowing that she was being frank about her concerns here and that her friend, kind as she was, would be honest in return. That her words could be trusted. "Am I going to ruin this if it turns out that colleagues who aren't you and Scott simply shouldn't be involved?"

Because Scott and Jean were the exception to every rule. Obviously.

[Phoenix]

Ororo was usually the calm, composed one. In part this was due to necessity, of course, since no one wanted to see the weather near the Institute constantly reflecting what Ororo happened to be feeling, nor would the weather witch wish to broadcast her emotions in such a manner. Jean had always admired that restraint, that ability to maintain an ironclad control over yourself. Not that Jean was exactly transparent when it came to her emotions, but she wished that she could manage the same level of regal serenity that Ororo exuded without apparent effort.

Not that she didn't enjoy seeing her like this.

The redhead had settled herself back on the bed as Ororo fretted, an amused smile flickering over her lips as she recalled a time not so many years ago when their positions had been reversed. How many times had Jean paced across her attic room, arms flailing helplessly as she griped and worried about Scott? Too many to count, she'd wager, and it was about time she was given the opportunity to witness the same lack of composure in her friend.

She waited patiently until the weather witch was done, as Ororo had always allowed her to do, but her last words prompted a rather skeptical look from Jean, followed by an expressive roll of the eyes. "What makes Scott and I so special?" In all honesty it probably shouldn't have worked, this mixing of work and private lives that she and Scott had been doing for years. 'Don't date a co-worker' was a rather frequently referenced rule of dating (or rule of workplace etiquette, whichever you preferred), but though they had their occasional hiccups they always managed to work it out one way or another. And if they could do it, so could ‘Ro and Cross.

"You and Cross are the last people I would label as fools, 'Ro. It'll be different, yes, but different isn't bad." In this case Jean was certain that different would be extremely good. "And it's not like the two of you are hormonal teenagers who will throw tantrums if it doesn't work out. Which it will," she hastened to add, not wanting to give Ororo any chance for second thoughts. She fixed green eyes on blue ones, expression serious. “You deserve to be happy, ‘Ro.”

[Storm]

Ororo wasn't often inelegant - for all her failings, she was almost unconsciously graceful, something to do with her quiet confidence and an inherent understanding of her physical limits - but around Jean she was relaxed enough to snort in obvious derision.

"The fact that you've lasted?" she said dryly. "The fact that you balance work and leadership and a relationship? As for the rest of us, it's not as if any of us have found the time or energy to devote to finding someone to love." She flapped a dark, impatient hand at her friend - why Jean was so obtuse regarding the success of her relationship with their team leader was beyond Ororo. "Goddess, won't you simply take a compliment?"

Probably not.

"I will admit that I'd started to feel as if I spent so much time smoothing over inter-personal relationships on the time that I'd never have time for one myself..." In an effort not to worry her friend, Ororo had aimed for a light tone and instead had sounded more resigned than anything else. "And I just...I don't know." She sighed and leant heavily against the room's desk, having stayed standing and humming with nervous energy until then. "I suppose I'd assumed that it wasn't in my stars. And I was alright with that, because I had the children to think about--" Linda was her official ward and Laura occupied more of her heart and time than someone unrelated to a maternal woman normally would. "--and then there was you and Scott, and Hank of course, and..." Her voice drifted off into wistful, pained silence and her eyes went briefly distant. Months had passed now and it was still habit to list the missing member of their team up there with her closest friends, with the people who were most important to her.

There were briefly three people in that room - Ororo and Jean and the ghost of Logan's presence at the Institute. But the weather witch roused herself, dragged her mind back on topic and looked at Jean with a touch of fond exasperation. "And you think I'm not happy now?" she asked. "Because I am. That's part of the problem." She looked down to where her hands were fanned against each other and her voice was a little more hushed as she carried on. "I am happy. And I like things the way they are. Especially now that the Professor's back and Laura has come home."

She took a breath and absently pushed pale, cloud-coloured hair out of her eyes as she looked towards Jean, her face remarkably unguarded for once. "He kissed me before I even realised that he thought of me that way," Ororo said with clear-eyed, blunt honesty. "He was there before and I just...didn't see him. It feels as if I'm racing to catch up to where he is now and that's..." She bit her lower lip gently as she tried to find the right word. "...scary. Because I don't know if I can catch up."

Ororo was new to this, that much was true. But she'd watched Scott and Jean survive the rigours and hazards of their life and she knew it took time and effort. Time and effort that she wasn't sure she could spare. So should she even try?

That question was why she was here, after all.

[Phoenix]

Ororo snorted and Jean rolled her eyes again, though a somewhat impish smile tugged at her lips at the comment about not having time to find someone to love. "Well, to be fair we sort of cheated on the whole 'finding each other' bit. It wasn't so much 'finding' as 'being incapable of getting away from each other'." Admittedly the Institute was huge (and had seemed far larger in those early days of their residency, when the number of tenants had been far fewer) but there had never really been a way for any of them to avoid the others for long. Not that Jean had particularly wanted to avoid any of them...she'd always been a social creature.

"Okay, okay, yes, thank you, Scott and I are amazing and we'll try not to let it go to our heads," she teased with a laugh. In her general day-to-day Jean never really gave much thought to how remarkable (or utterly unremarkable) it was that she and Scott had been together all this time. Usually she only marveled at his ability to love her when she'd been having a particularly trying time with the Phoenix, and since the firebird seemed to have calmed considerably since bringing them Charles and Erik such considerations had been far from the forefront of her mind. In the absence of that catalyst to spark introspection the status of their relationship became just an automatically accepted fact, a steady constant that was as reliable as the sun rising in the east each morning. Jean didn't consider it particularly praise-worthy; they just fit, and the idea of not loving Scott, of not being loved by Scott, was quite inconceivable.

The redhead sobered as Ororo went on, the beginnings of a frown brewing on her face. She felt she'd somehow failed in her duties as best friend if Ororo felt that she didn't have time for men and dating, felt that it was okay that she didn't have time for it. Not that Jean felt she needed a man, not by any means, but she was perhaps a bit of an old fashioned romantic in her belief that everyone had a soulmate out there somewhere and that life without them was just not quite as fulfilling as it could be.

"But you see him now," she pointed out placidly, one eyebrow arched ever so slightly. "so it seems to me that you're as 'caught up' as you need to be. Cross isn't really the type of guy to try and push you anywhere you're not ready to go, we both know that." Jean didn't necessarily know the man as well as she could have, but she knew enough of him to know that he tended to be logical and methodical in his approach to things and she couldn't imagine his approach to love deviating much from that norm. (Which some would argue was a very boring approach, but given the man she had given her heart to Jean was in no position to judge.)

She returned then to the question of Ororo being happy, a thoughtful sort of cast to her features. "I don't think you're unhappy, of course not, but you could be happier. Or, well, that's not..." Her nose wrinkled in vague exasperation at her choice of wording. Sometimes the English language could be remarkably clumsy, especially when you had the power to mingle your mind with someone else's and express perfectly all those things that language couldn't properly say. "It's a different kind of happy, I mean. Extra happy?" The last suggestion was made with a brief flash of a smile. "And for the record there's no rule saying you can't be scared. I'm sure you remember how petrified I was." The smile turned wry, eyes briefly distant as snippets of memories flickered through her mind before she pulled herself back to the present. "But," she continued, legs unfolding as she slid off the bed and crossed the distance between she and Ororo, playfully bumping her arm against the older woman's, "you're not going to let a little case of nerves get the better of you, are you?"

[Storm]

Even if Ororo's surface take on the situation involved worry and agitation, anxiety and uncertainty and a gentle, ironic sort of envy, being around Jean...well, whatever the topic of conversation, it was nearly always easy. Jean had been Ororo's first friend, back when the white-haired girl had been a haughty and arrogant and secretly completely out of her depth teenager and Jean had been...well, Jean had been Jean, which translated to friendly and talkative and the first person other than Charles who had actually gotten the young 'Goddess' to step down off her pedestal and begin to live her life.

But Jean had that effect on everyone. She burned more brightly than Ororo did, especially at that age when she'd been sparkling and vivacious and lovely to everyone. She'd been the best, back then, at pulling them all out of their shells - Hank out of his lab, Scott out of his near silence, Ororo out of...well, out of her old life. Her old attitude.

And the woman owed Jean so much when it came to who she'd managed to grow into today. Jean had helped a young Ororo adjust to the alien complexities of New York, the specifics of what was acceptable in her new culture and not. But, more importantly, she had started Ororo on the path to learning how to love people, more so than anyone else in her life so far. Jean had taught her how to let people in and so, really, was it any surprise that around the younger woman Ororo felt safe enough to actually admit that she didn't have a clue what to do about tis.

Of course, that was all a given, something that didn't need to put into words, but went unspoken and acknowledged all the same. Having a telepath for a best friend made words unnecessary when the currents between them were deep and solid and familiar, and they were something Ororo was happy to fall back on when she felt the need to.

Like now.

"By that logic, you make it sound as if Hank and I should have paired off as well," Ororo pointed out dryly before making a disgusted face, wrinkled nose and pursed lips. "Or me and Poitr." Hank would have been disconcerting enough, but the Russian mutant was so ingrained in Ororo's mentality as a brother that it was impossible to even consider him that way. "No, you two should give yourselves more credit than that. Sometimes, I think this place is enough to break any relationship that isn't yours."

After all, politics and lessons and the Brotherhood and adolescent mutants determined to come into their powers as dramatically as possible didn't exactly leave any of them much free time in which to devote energy to anything as personal as a love life.

She did grin though, in spite of the ever-present hum of anxiety, of 'what do I do?' in the back of her mind, and snorted most inelegantly and seemingly uncharacteristically for anyone who wasn't used to seeing Ororo relaxed and without her 'teacher-face' for once. "No, you guys are sickeningly smug, all the time," she countered. "If I didn't love you both so much, I'd have banned you from my presence together a long time ago." A teasing look got thrown Jean's way. "At least you're not sending each other longing looks anymore and thinking you were subtle about it. Goddess, that was exasperating." And entertaining. But probably only to their peers at the time, as few in number as they'd been.

The good-humoured banter could only distract from the real issue for so long though and Ororo sighed, passing a hand briefly across her eyes. "This is as close to pushing me as he's ever come, actually," she admitted, eyes a little distant as she drifted through her own memories of their bizarre little courtship. "This...this makes it real." More real than kisses and waking up together and froyo, apparently. "And, oh, I don't know. I feel like I've been scrambling to understand it this entire time, right from the start. And that was hardly me thinking straight because..." Her verbal communication petered out then, but the telepath must have picked up on the dizzying mix of wistfulness, sorrow, guilt and Logan that represented Ororo's memories of that night, of her friend leaving and her other friend kissing away her hurt in the rain, or trying to do so.

She shook herself, determinedly, and then clamped down on her own thoughts. That was unnecessary, and in the past as well. Thinking about Logan tended to make her sad and sadness was something she tried to avoid broadcasting in any telepath's company, out of consideration for their powers of empathy. Besides, Jean was bumping against her, playfully, and she arched an eyebrow looking haughtily dignified for a moment...right before she elbowed her back. "I'm not letting you make this a challenge," she said, faux-snootiness colouring her voice even before she smiled in spite of herself. "....but, no. Nerves aside, I'm not intending on backing out." A fission of excitement, of anticipation coloured her feelings then, the most positive thing she'd felt about this surprise that Aiden had sprung on her since worry had first drowned her good sense.

[Phoenix]

She was nearly gleeful at the expression that ghosted across her best friend's face, laughter falling oh-so-easily from her lips. Perhaps she had a point, then, as the idea of Ororo and Hank or Ororo and Piotr was simply one that did not work. It was nothing against those two men, of course, but they would not fit with the weather goddess, not in a romantic sense. Cross was another matter entirely, and maybe that said more about how much Ororo had grown in the years that Jean had known her than anything else - the wild child running rampant through the mansion's halls, trailing rain clouds when she was upset and embarrassing everyone with her refusal to wear proper clothes - that young woman hadn't really fit with anyone at all. She was far too busy looking down her nose at them, fresh from her life as a Goddess, wild and unable to be tamed.

The Ororo of today was so much steadier than that flighty girl of yesteryear, calm and sure and warm, so much so that she had become the generally accepted mother of the Institute. An idea that Jean found incredibly humorous sometimes, when she compared it to the defiantly naked girl she'd known as a young teen. While the conventional wisdom was that opposites attracted Jean didn't necessarily think that was the case; while she'd never really given it much thought before, now that the possibility was laid out in front of her she thought the sort of cool, quiet steadiness of Cross would mesh well with Ororo's warmer sort.

In a rather childish display the redhead stuck her tongue out at Ororo, before sniffing haughtily. "We're not smug," she corrected, though she didn't really have anything to follow that up with. Maybe there was a bit of smugness involved in successfully pulling off the delicate balance of working together every day and not wanting to kill one another, with being constantly 'on call' so to speak and still finding time (and energy) to just be Scott and Jean, rather than Mr. Summers and Doctor Grey. And to manage that for years?

Okay fine, maybe they were a little smug, but it was well-deserved she thought.

Regardless they weren't here to discuss Scott and Jean, this was about 'Ro and Cross and the a tantalizing promise of what they might become. For all that she was a firm believer in keeping her thoughts to herself as much as possible there was only really so much she could do without completely shutting down her telepathy, a feat that, while possible, would be something akin to robbing a person of their sight, it was so much a part of her. (In earlier years she had done without it, her inability to control her gift making it dangerous to herself and to everyone else as well, but those days were long since past.) With people like 'Ro - whom she'd known for, what, a little over half her life now? - that baseline awareness was just a little bit more pronounced, ties formed when her control was far from perfect and her mind prone to latching on to anyone nearby. So 'hearing' the kaleidoscope of feelings swirling through her white-haired friend was effortless and automatic, the redhead's head tilting just a degree or two off center as she processed through it without even really thinking about it. It wasn't something that required a verbal comment on her end, it was clear in the abrupt way that Ororo brought the flare of emotion back under control that it hadn't been intentional, but all the same there was a quiet hum of acceptance and understanding that Jean broadcast briefly in response.

Verbally, though, she was a great deal lighter, her pretend innocence ruined by the mischievous edge to the smile that curled her lips upwards. "A challenge? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm merely trying to see how much more prodding you need." And there was satisfaction now in the set of her expression, a brisk sort of nod at Ororo's response. "Good. My work here is done, then." And her grin was wide and completely unapologetic.

[Storm]

"You're definitely smug. If you look smug up on the internet, you're the first hundred thousand results." Oh, look, Ororo was even proud of that because it was technological and modern, two things that her jokes very rarely were.

Her jokes were rare themselves, actually. And very few people got to see them, purely because Ororo was just so serious in most of everyday life. Serene and calm, yes, but focussed. Professional. More concerned with doing things well than having fun whilst doing so.

So the people who got to see her more teasing side? Who actually got to witness the fact that Ororo knew what sarcasm was and could be quite fondly cutting when it came to the people she loved enough to relax around? They were few and far between and of course Jean was right at the top of the list. Because, around Jean, Ororo could be herself, knowing that the younger woman knew exactly where that calm, stately woman had come from and what she'd been like all those years ago.

(She still hadn't quite forgiven her for constantly looking scandalised at even the vaguest nudity, though. Americans could be so silly sometimes...)

When Ororo entered the room she had been stressed and uncertain and afraid. And, to some degree, those worries remained - of course they did. But the point of a best friend, of someone as important in a person's life as Jean was to Ororo, was that they put it all in perspective. Jean had allowed Ororo to acknowledge those concerns, but not be dominated by them, and...well, it helped. Someone else having faith in her. Someone else wanting her to be happy.

Impulsively, Ororo turned to hug the redhead woman, her arms falling easily around the familiar lines of Jean's body. In this adult life of theirs, when they were so busy and responsible and needed by the people around them, she sometimes felt as if they didn't remind each other that this friendship was necessary and valued anywhere near as much as they should.

"Thank you," she murmured into hair the colour of the setting sun. "For keeping me sane."

[Phoenix]

Her laughter was free and easy, eyes dancing with mirth that she had no reason to suppress, not here, cozily tucked away in her room with her very best friend. It seemed such a juvenile term sometimes 'best friend', a term handed out by teens who spent their free time with heads huddled close together to share secrets. BFFs, best friends forever, and she'd been a teen with Ororo, and even in those earliest of days she'd been important if for no other reason than she was the only other girl in the entire mansion. It seemed inevitable that they would bond, really, but Jean did not take it for granted.

"I know I'm not exactly camera shy, but a hundred thousand is pushing it a little," she countered with mock indignation, which was of course utterly ruined by just how funny she'd found that crack. It was made even more so by the fact that it was 'Ro making it, the woman who did everything she possibly could to avoid the technology that most people these days couldn’t live without. "I didn't even know you could use the internet."

It was good, this, just having a moment to themselves, to focus on themselves rather than the way they were pulled in a thousand different directions during the course of every day. To spend even a short time unwinding in one another's company even if it had started with anxiety on the part of Ororo. "Ditto, 'Ro," she said, with a contented little sigh into the other woman's shoulder. "Ditto."