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JEAN WAS SITTING IN THE BACKSEAT of the car that she had previously stolen to collect Steve and Natasha. And now, she was leaning forwards in between the front seats, listening to the conversation two adults had.
"Where did the little red learn how to steal a car?" Nat asked, turning her head around slightly so that she could have a good look at Jean.
Jean shrugged her shoulders, both of her hands up in the air in defence. "Don't look at me like that," she stated, shaking her head as she gestured towards Steve, who was busy driving. "Look at him. He thought me," she admitted.
Natasha tilted her head to the side, now gazing at the old blonde with curious eyes. "And when did Captain America learn how to steal a car?" She asked, interested.
"Nazi Germany. And we're borrowing," Steve clarified, turning his head to look over at Natasha. "Take your feet off the dash," he instructed, leaving Natasha to smirk, but she still did what he told her.
"Alright, I have a question for you which you do not have to answer. I feel like if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know?" Natasha ranted, and Jean tried to suppress her smile that was coming out.
She definitely knew what was coming. Knowing the redhead woman for eight years isn't really something small. She knew her. It was her mentor, her literal older sister with her usual questions that were impossible to avoid.
"What?" Steve asked in slight confusion, glancing over at her. "Was that your first kiss since 1945?" Natasha asked back with a smile and Jean threw her head back with a groan.
"That bad, huh?" Steve asked teasingly, raising one eyebrow at the woman who shook her head lightly. "I didn't say that," she defended, smiling a little.
"Well, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying," Steve blurted out, and the redhead shook her head. "No, I didn't. I just wondered how much practise you've had," Natasha wondered out loud.
"You don't need practice," Steve defended, frowning at her curiosity. "Everybody needs practice," Natasha simply mused with a shrug.
"It was not my first kiss since 1945. I'm ninety-five, I'm not dead," Steve defended once again, leaving Jean to laugh softly at the backseat of the car.
There was a small pause. "Nobody special, though?" Natasha pushed, not giving up on this topic and Steve chuckled. "Believe it or not, it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience," he said.
And Jean nodded her head at that. She may be fifteen, but she still understood that. As a busy agent and the person who is like a celebrity, it would be harder to date someone when she takes interest in it. Not to mention with the past like hers, she needed someone who understood and didn't judge her for that, which was rare to find.
