GENRE: fluff, mutual pining, series
WARNINGS: none.
NOTES: i literally have no idea if this is coherent at all. i do love Shakespeare (Romeo and Juliet is bottom tier tbh) and Scott tho <33 just under 5k words!!

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After school let out for the day, you found yourself automatically making your way back to your dorm room to unload your books and unwid. You barely had to think as you did so, mind scrambled from working all day, as well as the fact that your oral loomed ever closer, and Professor Xavier had just changed the excerpt you were using. He promised your new group extra credit, so you all agreed. But that didn't make your new assignment any less painful than the last. Your eyes were glued to your shoes as you made your turn down the final hallway, fidgeting in your jacket pocket for the keys to your dorm room. It was only then, that you looked up to see him.

Scott was leaning back against your door idly, with his backpack still slung over one of his shoulders as he seemingly waited. For you. He looked as handsome as ever (shoulders broad, curved jaw set in thought), and you could already feel your skin prickling with the warm feeling you always got around him. You tried to block out your powers. You couldn't deal with knowing what he was thinking right now. All of the hullabaloo with Jean had stressed you out more than anything (as much as you enjoyed having him close, it never felt right to trick him like you did), and right now, you wanted to concentrate on getting good grades more than having to confront your emotions for him. Especially if he didn't return them.

Jean was wholly of the belief that he did, pointing out that he'd acted very similarly to how he usually did around you (if not, a little spell-bound, and encouraged by your actions) when he was under the conditions of your mutation. If you influenced his feelings, and it didn't change anything, that meant that they didn't have to change in the first place; he already loved you. The expirement had been a success by your friend's standards. The idea seemed immediately unbelievable to you, and even thinking about it sent you into a spiral of rushed feelings and thoughts.

That moment was no different, a pink hue appearing across your face in a way that he couldn't help but immediately admire as soon as you were close enough to grab his attention. His full lips subconciously pulled into the most radiant smile you thought you'd ever seen - - momentarily stealing the air from your lungs as he greeted you cheerfully.

"Hey, (Y/N)," He waved slightly, watching the way his simple sentence and action evoked a tender smile from you, one that he'd thought about for what must have been hours on end at that point.

"Hey, Scott," You nudged his shoulder slightly so that you could fit your key into the hole, barely brushing him in a way that made both of your hearts thump despite the lightness of it. From this distance, he could smell your perfume, and God, could he drown in the scent or you if you let him. He shifted to the side, clearing his throat as you struggled for a second, before twisting the knob and swinging the old oak door open so that you could both enter.

You began to vent about your day as your put your bag by your desk: "So, turns out, Prof. had a group of four doing Act one, Scene five, but one of them left for another state. Long story short, his partner got a monologue- -" You huffed, as you pulled your hair out of its fixed place, ruffling it in a clear exasperation that shouldn't have been so attractive to Scott, "The lucky bastard!" He immediately chuckled at your outburst, finding himself taking a spot on the foot of your bed like he often did, while you pried your sash windows open to get some air in the room, "And we had to join as the other two people in the scene."

You had finally turned your attention back to him, standing in front of him with your arms across your chest - - not self conscious because of him, but moreso the topic.

"So what, isn't that better than having to confess your love for him on a balcony or something?" Scott asked with a small laugh, reclining slightly on your bed in a way that made you relax momentarily for some reason. Like seeing him comfortable, reflected on you. Not to mention how handsome he was when he was splayed out, watching for what you'd do next, eyes fixated on your figure despite himself. He had to admit, he wasn't apposed to you having a group scene, instead of being one-on-one with someone that made him feel deeply insecure. Of course, that was totally his problem (after all, he was the one who couldn't work up the courage to tell you how he felt); but it didn't change that fleeting idea.

You cracked a smile at his movements, hiding your clear admiration for him as you decided to settle into your desk chair. You were somewhat unsurprised that he hadn't recalled much of it from when you'd studied it in Freshman year. "Scott, don't you remember anything from the play?" Your tone was more teasing than insulting. Borderline fond, in fact, as you avoided looking at his positioning on your sheets for too long. Overwhelmed for what reason; you didn't quite know.

"Well. . . not really," He admitted with a slight shrug, inhibited by the way he had leaned back, elbows against the mattress as he angled his head to look at you. Soft brown curls falling with gravity in a way that was undeniably endearing.

Scott knew you were avoiding his stare, hands fidgeting in your lap as your cheeks visibly heated. "It's the scene where Romeo and Juliet kiss for the first time. Twice. And I tried to get the other people in the group to switch roles, but they won't give up their parts. Turns out, no one wants to play the main characters!" You blurted all at once, anxiety clear in your words, and the way you looked back to him for some sort of comfort. He'd always thought that your eyes were beautiful, and that moment was no different, despite the circumstances. He hated seeing you upset, no matter the cause.

"I don't think the Professor really expects you to do all that, you know? You can probably get around it somehow," He explained, knowing that you'd appreciate him suggesting something constructive. He'd helped you out enough to know that sometimes, you just needed someone to talk you down from your irrational fears and worries.

You nodded, sighing slightly as your eyes flickered between him, and the floor. Knowing why you were really upset in all of this. "I know, I know! I totally will. . . it's still just. . . majorly embarrassing to perform and practice," You admitted, voice softer than you'd care to observe. It was something that was giving you a lot of anxiety, and made you think too much point blank. You didn't want to be interacting with Peter that way (he was your friend, and always had been), but you thought that it might be very different if it was Scott in his place, instead. And that mildly terrified you.

"I get it. . ." He prompted, tone so kind and warm that it made you peer up properly, appreciating his reassurance endlessly. "I remember the scene being nice, at the very least. . ." Scott tried to look on the brighter side of things, offering it out to you as something to focus on instead of your stresses. Noting the way his words seemed to earn the hint of a smile from you.

"Well, of course. It's just. . ." You didn't know what to say to get across what you really felt without giving it all away, but tried your hardest under the gaze of the one person you knew would try to understand you the most, "Peter's my best friend. . . he's not the guy I wanna be saying all that to. It'll probably be a little weird, but I'm sure he'll make it fun somehow - - he always does." There wasn't a single part of you that was lying (especially about Peter). . . but holding back? Maybe.

Scott thought about your words for a few moments, his pretty lips parting as if he was going to speak; and then, nothing. He sat up slightly, so that he could really talk to you. Not sure why he was surprised by you officially declaring that you didn't like your best friend. Part of him still felt like he was the person to beat in some way. But that was all artificial, and he knew that. His own anxieties, above what was really going on in reality. You and him had always had something special outside of any other relationships you shared. There was nothing he could deny about that. Nor, anything Peter could do about that. The only real question was; what kind of a relationship did either of you want it to be?

All of those thoughts somehow jumbled, amounting in: "Who do you want to say it to?" Scott asked, perhaps too eager to hear the answer, though his tone was just as unjudging as you knew it to be. His expression just as earnest, his body now facing yours as you flustered in response.

You barely seemed to register his genuine question, "What?" Your brain was catching up, and so were your cheeks; coated in a flowery pink hue.

"Well. . . I guess I just assumed there was someone you'd want to say it to. . ." He explained off-handedly, as if his heart wasn't beating harshly at his own impulsive question, a hand fluttering through his short locks as he looked away from you for once. He could barely get himself to, usually. Though now, you could see the way his face glowed with a blush, unable to feel the way his stomach bubbled with butterflies when you had muted your mutation around him.

"There's only really one person that'd come to mind. . ." You chuckled slightly at the irony; a real, humoured laugh that caught his attention like it always did, "But I don't know how they'd feel about it."

You couldn't believe how many small truths you'd gotten away with saying, surprised that he was yet to figure it all out. It hurt you to sit around and pine for him, but at the same time, you cherished your time with him besides that. Despite all of that. If you could continue to have that with him, maybe you'd learn to be happy.

"Oh," He nodded, coming off more disappointed than he'd care to, but met your gaze nonetheless. Feeling brave. "Well, if I was lucky enough to have someone like you wanna say those things to me, I'd take the opportunity and run with it. Any guy would be lucky to have you, you know that? They'd be really dumb to turn you down," Scott told you, meaning every word like he had never meant anything else before. The sincerity in his voice, and his expression making your heart plummet, and every thought all but leave your head. He hoped that, if he never got to be with you, he at least wanted you to know that he thought the world of you. Because he did.

"Thanks, Scott. . ." You borderline whispered in reply, trying to sound as grateful as you felt, "I-I really appreciate it."

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"Can you help me practice?" You asked your friend from across your dorm room. Watching as he looked up with furrowed eyebrows, you held up your copy of 'Romeo & Juliet' with a hopeful smile.

There was something in his expression that almost seemed nervous. "Oh," his features cracked into a smile, anyways; peering at your approaching figure, because you knew he was obviously always willing to help you. Without a beat, you knew. "Y-yeah. . . sure," He suppressed the fluttering feeling in his stomach at the concept.

"Thanks so much! You're a lifesaver," You sighed gratefully, and that was enough for Scott to know that it was worth it (endlessly so), "I'm still really nervous even though I practically know all the words by now."

You sat on the same end of the bed as his, flicking through the first couple of Acts in order to find the right one. Chewing on your lip slightly as you located the pages covered in pencil and highlighter. Not feeling the way he stole glances at your profile while he waited patiently.

"It's no problem. . . you know I'm always here if you need it," He reminded you, despite the fact that he knew you knew. Without a doubt. That, however, didn't mean the genuine smile that played at the corner of your lips at his admittance meant any less to him.

"Of course I know, Scott," You informed, meeting his eyes sincerely for a moment, telling him you really appreciated him. Before trying desperately to maybe get some capacity of work completed around him. "We can skip the first part - - it's just Romeo and Tybalt talking. . . here--" You pass him your book, moving closer until you're pressed thigh to thigh as you point out the right line, "That's where it starts"

Almost immediately upon reading it, he was greeted with his worst fears. It was immediately deeply flirtatious and all too much for him. Picturing you practicing this with Peter made his stomach twist in knots, but he pushed that down as he realized that he'd soon have to be the one saying those things to you. Marginally better, maybe. But that didn't mean he was any less mortified, cheeks heating before he could so much as look up at you. When he did, he was slightly grateful.

You were smiling kindly at him, like you were endlessly thankful that he would be willing to help with something this small. Tucking your hair behind your ear as you readied your lines in your head, acting like this wasn't as big of a deal as his mind was making it out to be. It calmed him slightly, shoulders dropping as he offered you a slight smile in return (he couldn't help it around you), but couldn't ignore the butterflies that began to eat away at his insides. Little did he know, you felt much the same as you watched him take in the script; subconsciously letting his eyes flicker between it, and you.

For a moment, his mouth moved to speak, and then he started with Romeo's first words to Juliet, "If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this- -"

Hesitantly, he took your hand in his according to the stage directions, subconsciously aware that it'd been the first time in a while. This didn't stop either of your hearts from beating quicker in your chests, and your faces heating, feeling his larger hand engulf yours in its warmth. You noticed that despite your powers not being in use anymore, he seemed just as tender with you. Just as kind, and as happy around you as he was when they were on him.

You must have forgotten that this was the first time touching him skin to skin since you had stopped manipulating his emotions for Jean's experiment. Since then, you had tried not to pry into his emotions again. Partially on account of feeling endlessly guilty that you used your mutation to fulfill some stupid daydream of yours, and partially because you had kinda chickened out of finding out what he really felt - - even if he was just as close to you now, as he had become when you implemented it.

You were terrified of finding out the truth, and it being that he inevitably didn't like you - - that you were obviously just friends. Instead, you could ignore it. Put up a block totally, in hopes that your own emotions would eventually fizzle out. (They didn't, of course. He was still just as endearing as he always was, and just as comforting and handsome and kind to you. But it wasn't for lack of your trying). If you managed to limit your use of your mutation around him - or entirely for that matter - then you didn't have to face any hard truths, and you could pine from afar like you usually did.

Of course, this all fell apart as soon as his hand touched yours. His emotions clawing away at the wall you put up, bursting through the seems of them, flooding you with their intensity in a way that you hadn't expected. It made you dizzy, your body spreading with a warmth that stopped at the tips of your fingers as your breath nearly left your lungs. You'd had it before that physical contact with people amplified your mutation, but never to this degree. A pink haze spread itself through your brain, and made its way to the peripherals of your vision, clouding Scott's figure- - still watching his brown eyes that gazed back at you with a kind glow. You couldn't understand how you hadn't felt it before. How you hadn't seen. You'd been keeping your mutation stunted for so long, you didn't feel what was right in front of you.

Bubbling and filling your insides with goo, was an emotion you'd encountered a fair amount of times before, but never so strongly directed at yourself. And it was directed at you; you knew this. Images of yourself spread in dappled light, your body curving softly and flashes of the two of you together. Molded to each other, and shimmering with a dreamy glow in your head.

There was no mistaking how drenched in love those images were for you. Genuine love like you had never been able to experience yet for yourself. Something that you had yearned for so long, after meeting so many people that were happy - - and you just weren't.

And ironically, suppressing everything because of that, was the reason you could never feel this from Scott in the first place.

And now, it was all happening faster than you could process it. Scott must have noticed your demenaour, because his pretty face was contortions into a slightly concerned expression. No doubt, this didn't just come off as you forgetting your lines. Sometimes, when a feeling was strong enough, you couldn't help but be wrapped up in it. Stuck in whatever emotion it was as you fed off its energy, and it, yours.

That being said, you were no short of gazing back at Scott with the softest eyes he had ever seen on you. And your hand was yet to move from his, fingertips brushing his - - suddenly he was all too overwhelmed to even begin a sentence. His plump lips parted, taking in a short breath as you seemed to blink back into attention slightly. Your eyelashes fluttered against rosey cheeks, and the deep affection he felt for you only seemed to send another wave crashing over you.

Instead of querying on the moment, he cleared his throat slightly, and carried on in his voice that you had come to cherish so much. "My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss," His gaze met yours, and both of you were flushed in the dim light emitting from the lamp on your desk. He never thought you looked prettier. And in a way, he wished he was really asking you that. He wished he has the guts to just reach out and kiss you.

Without a beat, you answered him. Perhaps, too eager for it to be real. Just like he was. And you knew this in some way. But you were still so, so scared in the face of it all. So you carried on: "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this - -" Your fingers slipped passed his, intertwining as your palms pressed closer. "For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss," You finished, bridge of your nose still flaring pink under his gaze. He hated that he could barely tell when you blushed because of the quartz. But when he did catch a glimpse of the clear colour change, he simply couldn't get enough of it. You felt every little pulse of his affection as it came to the forefront of his mind, and that didn't help much to keep the warmth from your features.

Scott almost didn't realize that he was supposed to give you a reply, and you held back an adoring smile when he quickly looked back down, stuttering the next line that held so much more intention than you ever knew was there before, "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

When he met your stare again, you didn't pause to glimpse down at your lines like he had. Scott felt like he might have been imagining this strange intimacy between the two of you as held that eye-contact, butterflies spilling into his stomach like they always did around you; but in all honesty, he was just picking up on what was there.

The fact that you couldn't look away from him. The way your voices had shifted to become much quieter, just between the two of you. Your legs still brushing as you replied to him: "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he read the next words from the page, not baring to greet your face with his next sentences, "O, then, dear saint," He murmured, "Let lips do what hands do;
they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

Your heart was beginning to thump in a rythmn that you could practically hear. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake," You shook your head slightly, knowing that you meant those words more than he could ever know. You were so, so scared of allowing whatever you had with Scott to change; because you already had it so good. But you'd be damned if you didn't want him to kiss you. And just like Juliet, it felt like you were giving him admittance, and permission. Of course, Scott would never know that in your circumstance. But Romeo did.

It occurred to you that neither of you had discussed what you'd do when you got to that particular excerpt in the scene. Part of your subconscious probably wanted to leave it ambiguous in hopes that your one wish would actually come true. That was stupid, of course. You'd probably just end up brushing it off casually and reading the stage cues anyways. Though, that didn't mean your stomach wasn't twisting in knots when Scott finally recanted his lines.

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take - -" He stopped, eyes clearly registering what was on the page as he paused. You swore you saw him blush, though it could've just been the hazy pink that was consuming your thoughts due to his emotions. You saw a flickering in your minds-eye; a scene not too dissimilar from what you'd pictured in your own head. The both of you impossibly close, lips pressed together in a kiss so desperate and spilling over with emotion, that both of your characters would be jealous to see it.

Scott had always had an inkling that his luck with you not noticing his emotions was going to wear thin at some point. He'd thought that when he walked you back to your dorm every other night, he thought that when your hands met that day, and a part of him was most definetly becoming more sure as he registered the sudden embarrassed flattery apparent in your face. He knew that a part of you wouldn't want to talk about it if you did find out how hopeless he was for you. He felt guilty about that. But he also felt then more than ever, that he needed to know how you felt.

So many small things made him think that maybe it wasn't as one-sided as he always made himself believe. The way you always seemed so genuinely happy to see him, the fact that you'd always blush and smile beneath his gaze, and his compliments. The fact that you always found a reason to be near him (though, he was just the same with you), always sat closer as of late. Allowed him to wrap an arm around your shoulder, and had started to play with his hair as of recent (absolutely don't get him started on that; he was addicted to it). Everyone noticed how close you were. How special you were to each other.

God, he hoped he wasn't going to make a complete and utter fool of himself. Though, he could live with it, if the other outcome was you actually reciprocating.

You noticed the way his warm, brown eyes had fluttered to look down at your lips almost unabashedly, parted as you didn't know what to say. His intentions more clear now than ever; and you just couldn't get over the fact that it seemed to come to naturally to him. Like he couldn't not be magnetized to you like he was. Which was true on more levels than he'd care to admit.

"Do. . ." Scott started, lost for words; as if his body wasn't willing to admit what his heart was, "Do you want me to follow the stage directions, too?" The question was earnest, and you found yourself cherishing the way he sounded when he spoke. You could listen to it for hours. Particularly when he looked so shy, and was being so open with you.

You didn't need subtext, or your mutation to know that he was asking you for more than just wanting to help you practice properly. That fact only made you even more elated, and your skin more hot. Made your heart twist in your chest for him, knowing how much he really cared for you. He noticed the way you didn't immediately pull away; hiding a contented smile that he soon matched with his subtly growing one. Watched the way you seemed to move impossibly closer (he wasn't complaining one bit) as you answered his layered question.

"Okay. . ." You told him, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you let your eyelids flutter down abashedly, feeling his thumb brush against the side of your hand that still grasped his. "But only if you'll do it again. No scripts included," You added, catching the way his cheeks split into a beaming grin, admiring his absolutely gorgeous features for what felt like the millionth time in your life; yet it never felt like it'd get old. Not with the way he was looking down at you slightly, absolutely adoration clear in his features at you, and your answer.

"Deal," Scott let a laugh tumble from his lips, which you soon followed on the end of, enchanted by how happy he seemed - - your powers overwhelming you as both of you met halfway, unable to hold yourselves back from giddy excitement. Both of you so happy despite how sudden the moment seemed.

Your lips met, desperate, but decidedly tender in a way that reminded you so much of him. Scott seemed to sigh into the kiss, lost in the way you felt against him, enjoying the way your hand left his in order to rest around his neck, meeting the other in the nape of his hair. You felt so delicate, and soft, and tasted like nothing he could've ever imagined; but he'd be craving forever. You could feel his affection and love like it was pumping through your veins, filling your body with a low hum that made your head feel light - - and you had no doubt he felt it, too.

Cherishing the way you let out a little pleased sound when his tongue brushed against your lips, slipping into your mouth. His hands tentatively reaching out to hold you at your sides; one against your hip, and the other tugging at the material of your shirt gently. You were lost in each other, barely taking pausing to breath as you exchanged kiss after kiss, not minding the practice that lay by the wayside.

Cradled in what felt like a pocket of warmth, in your own world. Your mutation channeling what both of you felt into an endless cycle of adoration, calmness, and a love not yet spoken about, but shared for longer than either of you knew. And that was okay, because you finally had that moment to share. The explanations, and discussions, and gushing was for later.

Right then, you had each other, and a quiet moment. Your fingers rifting through Scott's hair in the way he had come to love, only second to you. You, finally able to not worry, knowing he wanted this just as much as you did, and you could feel it. You were done pushing that away now. For good. You were done with overcomplications, or listening to anyone else.

All you wanted was this, for yourselves. And you finally had it. And God, did it feel right. It might have had something to do with how natural it already felt to be melded to each other, to be able to share what you hadn't for so long; complications be damned. But you were allowed to be biased given the circumstances - - and it wasn't like Scott was complaining.

The rest happened later; right then, was for you to enjoy. His pillowy lips on your skin, and your hand carding his hair, and your hearts synching into a steady rhythm. Soft, and light, and what both of you deserved.