𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 || 𝐗-𝐌𝐄𝐍 ||

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱

It was late in the X-Mansion, and the stillness of the night wrapped around Milo like a comforting blanket. She sat in the kitchen, nursing a drink, the soft clink of ice against the glass breaking the silence. Just as she began to relax, the door creaked open, and Jean walked in.

Milo looked up, meeting Jean's gaze. For a moment, the two women simply stared at each other, the tension hanging thick in the air. Milo broke the silence first, trying to keep her tone light. "Can't sleep either?"

Jean sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "Nope. Just came to get some water." She stepped further into the kitchen, glancing at the drink in Milo's hand. "What are you drinking?"

"Just a little rum and Coke," Milo replied, trying to sound casual.

"You're being too nice to me," Jean told Milo, narrowing her eyes slightly as she observed her. Milo just shrugged, her nonchalant gesture only raising more suspicion. Jean studied her friend for a moment longer and quickly put two and two together—Milo was probably buzzed.

Jean took a sip of Milo's drink, her expression twisting slightly at the taste. "Ugh," she grimaced, placing the glass back on the table. "How do you even drink this?"

Milo raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Hey, that's mine!" she protested with a half-hearted glare.

Jean wiped her mouth, shaking her head. "I don't know how you're drinking that like it's water," she muttered, looking back at Milo.

It was quiet for a moment, the tension lingering in the air until Jean broke the silence. "Let me join you," she said, surprising Milo.

Milo raised an eyebrow and gave Jean a skeptical look. "You want to drink with me? Since when do you drink?" she asked, clearly not expecting this side of Jean.

Jean shrugged her shoulders casually. "I don't, not really," she admitted. "But maybe tonight's an exception. Besides, you look like you could use some company."

Milo considered it for a moment before a small smirk appeared on her lips. "Alright, but don't blame me if you end up hating it," she teased, sliding the glass toward Jean again.

Jean picked up the glass and eyed it cautiously, then looked back at Milo. "I'm doing this for you, not the taste," she said with a chuckle, taking a small sip before wincing. "Still terrible."

Milo laughed. "Told you."

This was a different side of Milo, one that Jean hadn't seen much of. Usually, Milo could be sarcastic, distant, or even combative, especially when it came to Jean. But tonight, sitting in the dimly lit kitchen with drinks in hand, she was being... kind. No biting remarks, no sharp looks. Just two people sharing a quiet moment.

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱

A couple of hours later, the bottle was nearly drained, and the mood had shifted. Milo and Jean had grown more relaxed, their barriers falling with every sip they took. What had started as quiet conversation now carried an underlying tension neither had fully acknowledged.

Jean leaned closer, her hand brushing Milo's arm as she laughed at something Milo had said. Milo felt the warmth of the touch linger, and it sent a rush through her—a feeling she hadn't expected, especially not with Jean.

"You know, you're not as bad as I thought," Jean murmured, her voice lower, more intimate than before. Her eyes met Milo's, lingering just a bit longer than usual.

Milo, her inhibitions dulled by the alcohol, smirked. "I could say the same about you," she replied, her gaze dropping to Jean's lips for a split second before she caught herself and looked away. But the moment didn't go unnoticed.

Jean's eyes darkened slightly, her breath catching. Without thinking, she leaned in, their faces only inches apart now. "What if I am as bad as you thought?" she whispered, her voice daring, challenging.

Milo's heart raced, her pulse loud in her ears. She could feel the magnetic pull between them, something she never expected to feel for Jean. "Guess there's only one way to find out," Milo whispered back, her voice thick with alcohol and something else entirely.

In the haze of the moment, Jean closed the gap, her lips pressing against Milo's. It was tentative at first, like testing the waters, but when Milo responded, deepening the kiss, it became something more. The world outside the kitchen faded as their hands began to explore—Jean's fingers tangling in Milo's hair, Milo's hands finding the curve of Jean's waist.

Breathless, they pulled apart for a second, eyes wide and filled with unspoken questions. But the answers didn't seem to matter right now. With a shared look, they surged back toward each other, their lips meeting again, this time more desperate, more urgent.

Milo pushed Jean back against the kitchen counter, their bodies pressing together as the kiss intensified. Jean gasped, her hands gripping the back of Milo's shirt, pulling her closer, deeper into the moment.

Neither of them thought about the consequences, about what this would mean tomorrow.

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱