Heavenly Bodies

Not Even Remote-ly
by Christina A.

“G’night, Dr. Grey,” Kitty said, stretching before getting off the couch. “G’night, Mr. Summers.”

“G’night, Kitty,” the male and female voice chorused as the girl left the room.

Kitty being the last of the children to go to bed, Scott picked up the remote and began to look for something else to watch.

“Excuse me,” the telepath moved closer to her lover, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You weren’t watching that, were you?” he asked innocently.

She laughed lightly. “No. But that’s hardly the point.”

He merely shrugged and continued flipping channels. “Sorry,” he said, though there was little sincerity in his voice.

“Bull,” was her response as she made a quick move for the remote, missing only because he was a heartbeat faster.

A sly smile spread across his face as he continued to flip channels.

“Hey,” she said, seeing a movie she liked while he flipped through it. “Wasn’t that…”

“It was,” was all he said in reply.

“Asshole.”

“You love me that way.”

This time, a soft kiss was placed on his ear.

“That’s not going to work, Jean,” he admonished, even though the smile grew on his face.

“What?” she asked innocently. “I have learned that male testosterone demands sovereignty over the remote control. I’ve accepted it. But since all you’re doing is channel surfing anyway, I thought…”

“You’d distract me with fondling and take the remote when my guard was down,” he finished for her.

In a very unladylike move, she stuck out her tongue. She pulled away, sitting beside him now. Their thighs touched, as did their shoulders, but that was all.

Scott laughed. Finally, he stopped flipping channels when he found a baseball game on.

“C’mon, Scott,” Jean huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He turned to look at her, the smile wide on his face as he pointed out, “It’s the Yankees, Jean.”

“It’s sofa-city, Scott,” she replied, her tone mocking his.

Picking up the remote, he began to surf again. “We aren’t watching Steel Magnolias,” he commented, referring to the movie she’d seen earlier. “If I can’t watch baseball, you can’t watch Dolly Parton.”

“I thought you’d like to look at her.”

“Wha…?” he questioned, confused.

“Well it’s not like she doesn’t have enormous breasts.”

He rolled his eyes, though she couldn’t see him. “They aren’t real, so that hardly counts.”

“And if they were real, it would count?” she asked, her tone taking on that ever popular ‘mine aren’t good enough’ timbre.

“Yours are perfect,” he said, knowing that whenever a man got into *this* type of conversation with a woman, it never worked out well for him. “Besides, you brought it up.”

She shrugged. “It’s ok,” she said softly. Of course, she knew she was messing with him. But since he didn’t seem to know that, yet, she was going to have as much fun as she could. Crossing her arms over her chest, she continued, “Mine aren’t big enough. It’s not like I can help it.” She could have won an Academy Award for the sorrowful look she presented on her face.

“Jean, what the hell kind of pod person are you?” he said in frustration. He set down the remote and wrapped his arms around her. “I said you were perfect just as you are.” He placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

With the lift of her hand, Jean moved the remote from the table into her grasp. Scott didn’t notice as he was too busy trying to comfort her.

It was as he was kissing her hair and thinking that maybe they could go up to their room so he could comfort her more completely that he heard it. Click. The news. Click. Baseball game. Click. A Sitcom. He stopped kissing her as his eyes went wide with understanding. “You sneak.” Sitting back, he looked at her in shock. “You planned that.”

“Strategy,” Jean smiled. She patted his leg. “I learned from the best.”

Pulling her in to cuddle with him, he didn’t even mind when she stopped upon finding Steel Magnolias again. “That’s my girl,” he said with pride.

“Of course I am,” she settled in next to him. And true to that statement, she didn’t put down the remote control for the rest of the evening.

The End