"Scott."

"Yes, Headmistress Frost."

A platinum blonde woman in white turned towards her bedroom door as a tall dark and handsome man in a gray t shirt and red shades came in, strapping on a minimal tool belt.

She tapped her chin with a finger, as if pondering out loud, "I'm a living diamond and a powerful telepath, yet I'm vexed when it comes to something as menial and ordinary as fixing a broken pipe."

He strode past her, patting her lightly on her slim hip with a sure hand.

"No need to call a plumber, this is a simple problem with a simple solution."

He briskly went into her large marble bathroom and turned on a faucet, testing the sink.

Getting on his knees, he opened up the space under her sink and his head disappeared inside the dark cavern as he tinkered away automatically reaching for items in his tool belt.

Leaning a hip against the bathroom door frame, Emma Frost, headmistress of the Xavier School, watched uncertainly, as if expecting the pipes to explode if she stepped in.

"What would a WASPy girl like me do without a handy big man like you? Darling, you contrast me so effortlessly."

She could almost hear his smirk from under the sink as his gruff voiced echoed out, "I believe some people like to say you complete me."

Tip toeing her immaculate Dior clad feet onto marble floor, she began to cautiously make her way in.

Pushing a toe against Scott's perfectly toned rear; she shoved slightly, "We're not some people, darling. We're the most powerful partnership for all of mutant kind."

He shoved his butt back a little, to shake her off and voiced maddeningly, "We're the headmasters of a fugitive school named after the man that I killed, with a student population under 20, and we've hardly got a start. Our powers are definitely not functioning predictably and we have no idea what the future has for us. We've got to carve our own futures. Start from scratch."

She sighed, "Always the weary pessimist, Scott."

He said in a tone she could not decipher as either sardonic or serious, "Believe it or not, men act differently for a certain time after hard break ups."

A lump rose in Emma's throat, her blue eyes widened, "Does that mea-what…"

They had not outright talked about it yet, had carried on with this passive aggressive banter that only two people who had seen each other naked and melded would have.

He shut her down, "No we are not getting back together."

A squeaky twisting sounded as Scott fiddled.

He rose a little, only to abruptly hit his head against the bottom of the sink. A hollow knock and a curse.

Emma bent down next to him on the floor, putting her hand on his back end, and said somberly, "I'm sorry."

She pushed her cropped blonde hair behind an ear and watched as he reverse crawled out from under the sink, water dripping down his hair and face.

Emma placed her hands on the side of his wet head and pressed her forehead against his, sadly shutting her eyes.

A loud crack filled the bathroom.

Illyana Rasputin set her sword down carelessly with a clang on Emma's bathroom floor.

She stared straight at Scott, as if no one else was around, "Scott, you and I are having a meeting downstairs right now."

His eyebrows shot up, "We are?"

She shifted her leather covered feet, "Yes. Now, boy."

He frowned, displeased, "Boy?"

Emma stared hard at the younger girl.

Striding over, still not acknowledging Emma, Illyana plucked a bewildered Scott off the floor and pulled him out.

Emma sat stunned on her marble floor.