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"Richard" is my own creation.

A/N: Humor fic. Women everywhere have been there. Now it's 'Ro's turn...

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This was what she remembered.

For some reason, everyone thought it would be a good idea to go to Harry's on a Friday night. Blowing off steam sounded like the perfect plan--after all, the week had been a killer, with all the missions halfway around the world and the pockets of super villains running around. Finally they'd had some peace. Finally, someone wasn't trying to kill them. Finally, some much needed downtime.

So why wasn't she happy?

Ororo Munroe played with the base of her wine glass and eyed the crowd. Her lips hardened a little, which no one noticed. Jean and Scott. Remy and Rogue. The Professor and Lilandra, who conveniently dropped by Friday morning, just in time for "date night." Hank and Trish. Betsy and Warren. And, she thought, allowing her lips to curl in a small sneer, Bobby and one of his many concubines.

She grunted disgustedly, and Logan cautiously gazed at her. "You okay, darlin'?"

Her face brightened. "Never better, Logan. Why do you ask?"

He stared at her a little harder, in that disconcerting way that said, 'I know you're lying.'

Logan shrugged and stuck his cigar back in his mouth. His eye roved the crowed tavern, settled on a blonde with more cleavage than Dolly Parton, and his lips crinkled appreciatively. "No reason," he said, rising from the table. He patted her on the shoulder when he left. "Go have some fun, 'Ro. Quit playin' Super Leader, for once."

She watched him move through the center of the crowd and tap the woman on the shoulder. She giggled like a Barbie doll and bobbed her head, as if Logan had used one of his award-winning pickup lines on her.

Which you know he did, she thought. But no, he won't use them on me. Unless to tease me. The thought made her angry enough to slap the wine glass over, where it spilled across the table.

"Ooh, 'Ro--"

"Forgive me, Jean," she said quickly, and wiped the spill with her napkin before it spread across the table and into her lap. "I was...distracted."

"Apparently so," she said.

"You okay?" Scott asked. He wasn't really asking, though. Jean was in his lap, and his head was buried in her hair. Ororo wasn't sure if he was asking the question of her, or of Jean.

"Perfectly," Ororo said. She rose from the table. "I am going to refill my drink. Would you like anything?"

"No," Scott said with a small smile. "I've got all I need right here."

Ororo left the table, but not without hearing an appreciative giggle. It sounded like the Barbie doll across the room.

Ororo, you stop that right now, she chided. Green is Rogue's color, not yours.

She placed her empty wine glass on the bar counter with a sigh, and waited her turn. She glanced at the bar mirror and decided that the brown face in the mirror was pretty. Conservative and reserved, but still pretty. So what if she didn't throw herself at men like a bone to starving dogs? Perhaps she had some strict standards, but did that make her untouchable? A pariah? What was so wrong with Ororo Munroe that even the hormonally-charged X-males wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole?

"What'll you have, beautiful?"

Ororo started at the bartender's voice. "Am I beautiful?" She immediately clamped her lips shut. She hadn't meant to utter her thoughts out loud.

"Sure! Every girl at that table's a babe." His lips curled lustfully. She didn't like that look, and her face hardened into her typical, protective mask.

"Thank you for the complement," she said dryly. "I would, however, like some service."

The bartender's demeanor changed to a professional one, getting the 'Do Not Touch' signal he knew so well. He nodded at her glass. "No problem. Would you like a refill?"

"Y--"

Ororo stopped the word on her tongue when she caught the array of multi-colored bottles around the bar. No, she wasn't a drinker. Not even close. But tonight, a spritzer wouldn't do it. She wondered...would she dare?

She leaned in closer to the bartender and briefly glanced over her shoulder, as if afraid her friends and teammates would catch her in an illegal act. "Can you make some recommendations?"

He planted his elbows on the table and was inches from her face. His voice was a low, conspiratorial whisper. "What kind of recommendations?"

"I need something...stronger. Something special."

His lips curled again, but without the lust. More like a devilish leer. Goddess, it felt like she was making a deal with the devil himself. "How special do you want it?"

Ororo's eyes narrowed. "Blow me away."

The bartender had the audacity to laugh at her. "Lady, I know you. You don't have anything stronger than spritzers when you come in here. If I gave you anything stronger, they'd have to carry you out on a stretcher. You're still in the puppy pack."

His words made her angry, and even more determined. She stabbed her finger at Logan's blonde, and waggled her finger at the woman's drink. "That. Give me what she's having."

"Whoa, those things are the kiss of death for newbies. I don't think--"

"Four. No, five," Ororo said, pounding the table. "I want five of those. Line them up on the counter."

"What, like in the movies?" The bartender shook his head. "I'll only tell you once. You'll be on the floor before you get through the second one."

Ororo pursed her lips. "Is that a challenge?"

"No, it's a promise." His eyebrow rose. "You think you're ready to run with the big dogs?"

"Try me."

"You got someone to take you home?"

She waved an impatient hand over the groups of couples. "One of them might remember me, once they come up for air. But I will be fine."

The bartender bit his bottom lip, and Ororo couldn't tell if he was looking stern or stifling a laugh. "Okay, okay. But I warned you, right? Don't come here in a few days lookin' to put my head on a pike."

"You are absolved of all repercussions."

"Uh, huh." He sighed. "I'll believe that when I see it." He paused, waiting for her to change her mind, but she simply folded her arms and glared at him. He shrugged. "Fine, you asked for it. Five Long Island Ice Teas, comin' up."


* * *

The bartender--Richard, was it?--told her to take it slow, but she felt defiant and rebellious. Forget him. She needed this. She remembered a conversation she'd had with Remy once, after one of his typical poker nights piqued her curiosity. He looked like death warmed over, and she had told him so. "Don't knock it if you ain't tried it, Stormy," he sneered at her. "Sure, it's hell in the mornin', but it's a great ride down."

Well. She wanted to know just what this "great ride" meant, and she was determined to find out as quickly as possible. She sucked the fourth drink in record time, not bothering to check how fast she downed the other three. She had waited for the others to kick in, but when nothing happened after two minutes, she had decided that her metabolism was probably on a par with...Wol--oh.

"2...1," Richard counted. "It should hit you just about now. How're you feeling?"

He actually looked concerned. What a nice man. "Fine," she said slowly. The room suddenly tilted and everything went in slow motion.

Richard waved a hand in front of her eyes, and she reacted with the slowness of a turtle.

"Yep," he grinned. "You're toasted."

"I b'lieve the bet was for five." Her tongue didn't work. When did that happen?

"You don't need another one."

She went to smack her hand on the table, and missed. Richard caught her before her chin hit the counter. "Did I, or did I not ask for five?"

"You did. If you're still standin' in a half-hour, come back, and we'll see."
Ororo nodded. Sounded rational. Sort of. "Umm. I see. Now what?"

"If I were you, I'd stay planted on that stool the rest of the night and wait for my friends to take me home. But y'know, I don't think you'll take my advice. You're too hard-headed."

Ororo laughed, but it sounded like a snort. Very un-ladylike. She slurped her empty drink and stared at the ice in it. "Bobby? You in there?"

Richard snickered and put the glass down. "Trust me. Stay seated and don't move a muscle. You'll feel better about it."

"Ooh okay," Ororo cooed. She squinted, just able to make out the spiked hair and brutish frame headed her way. "Look. It's my friend. Whatsisface."

Logan came over to her other side and frowned at her strangely. What was the deal with his eyebrows, anyway? She stared at them for a long time, observing their strange contours. How odd. How very odd. And his hair--! Goddess, why hadn't she noticed it before?

"Uh, 'Ro--?"

It took a few seconds to hear him. "Hmm, Logan?"

He nodded at the four empty glasses in front of her. "You been drinkin'?"

"Just having fun," she said slowly. She wanted her words to make sense, and it became increasingly difficult. "Just like you told me to."

He glanced at the bartender. "What's the damage, Rich?"

"Long Island Ice Teas," Richard told him solemnly. To Ororo, it sounded like they were discussing a horrible train wreck. "Four of 'em. She wanted five."

"Oh, shit."

"If I can stay standing," she said proudly, "I can have another."

" 'Ro, you don't need another one. You need a nice, comfy bed. Preferably now."

"I thought you'd never ask," she sighed lustily. She grabbed his neck and pulled him close, surprising him. "Take me, you rugged mountain man."


* * *

The birds. O Goddess. They sounded like firecrackers outside her window. "Too loud. Go away."

Before she had a chance to adjust to their sound, a gentle knock landed on her door, and it sounded like a cannon. "Go away."

Her own voice was too loud. What happened? Did she have the flu? Was this the flu?

The door creaked open and she covered her head with her pillow. Much too loud. Every noise was a miniature gunshot.

"Um...Storm?"

Storm buried her head in the pillow. "Go away, Jean."

Jean didn't listen. The telepath snuck next to her bedside and placed a bowl of soup and crackers on her nightstand. She gently sat next to her friend and patted her back. "You look awful."

"How kind of you to notice. Now leave me alone. Let me die in peace."

"Drink some soup, first. You need to put some liquids back into your body."

"No."

"Do it, or I'll force you."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Angry, Ororo sat up too quickly. She immediately wished she hadn't. "Oh, cr-"

Jean bolted off the bed and rushed her friend to the bathroom. They made it, but only barely. After a few minutes of painful, disgusting noises, Jean telepathically turned on the sink and grabbed a washcloth. As her friend retched in the toilet, Jean rubbed her back sympathetically. "'Ro, I think last night was the dumbest thing I've ever seen you do."

The cool cloth rubbed the nape of Ororo's neck and cleared the residue from her chin. Ororo was grateful for the help, but embarrassed at the same time. She was only glad it was Jean in the room with her. Anyone else...she shuddered. She leaned her head against the cold porcelain, thinking how wonderful it would be to stay next to it the rest of the day. "I agree. Dumb. Very dumb."

Jean giggled. If it didn't hurt to turn her head, she would have glared at her best friend. "Not to say that I didn't have my turn in college, but I grew out of it. Now you know how it feels."

"How can Remy bear it?"

"I have no idea." Jean sighed and gently helped Ororo to her feet. "One bad turn was enough for me. Ready for some soup?"

Ororo groaned.

"I know nothing sounds good right now, but the soup will do you good. Now c'mon, let's get you back to the land of the living."

Ororo swallowed the bile coating her throat but obeyed her friend. At least Jean wasn't laughing at her. She imagined the others were snickering behind her back. She hoped she hadn't done irreparable damage to the team, and she hoped they still trusted her to lead them in battle. Goddess, Jean was right. She had done a very stupid thing.

"Jean, I need to know."

Jean took the soup and forced it through Ororo's lips. After a few swallows, Ororo realized how good it tasted and sipped it on her own.

"What, hon'?"

"How big of a fool did I act last night? I remember..." She made a face. "The last thing I remember was making a pass at Logan."

Jean rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked uncomfortable. "That's it, huh?"
Ororo paused in mid-sip. "Is there more I should remember?"

Jean's eyes twinkled mischievously as she gave her best friend a quick shoulder rub. "You could say that. And for what it's worth, before your memory kicks in--if it ever does--I'm sorry we've all treated you like dirt."

Storm choked on the soup. "I said that?"

"That, and other things. But you didn't say 'dirt.'"

"Oh, Goddess."

Jean smiled. "We probably deserved it, but I honestly never thought you could get that mad."

Ororo cringed, and a look of horror flashed across her face. "Goddess, the weather--!"

"No, it was fine. Honest," Jean said, holding up a hand. "I think your powers muted proportionally to the amount of alcohol in your bloodstream. You gave Logan and Remy quick little electric shocks, but that's about all you could muster."

"I used my powers against my teammates in anger?"

"And your tongue. But you'll find that out later, if any of them are speaking to you."

Ororo gasped and Jean laughed at her. "Kidding, kidding." She took the soup from Ororo's fingers and placed it on the bedside. "We all deserved it, trust me. In fact, I think a few of them finally feel a little ashamed of themselves."

"Still," Ororo said softly. "I had no right. I must apologize at once."

A small smile played at the redhead's lips. "Get some more rest, if you need it. But you probably don't need to apologize as much as you think."


* * *

Despite what Jean said, Storm couldn't go back to sleep, especially when she realized she had already slept half the day. Fortunately it was Saturday, but still...she had never been one to stay in bed after 7am. 8am was "sleeping in" for her, and noon--! Absolutely unthinkable.

She dreaded seeing her teammates. After taking her time enjoying the cool water from her shower, she gulped a few aspirin and resigned herself to a day in the woods. They would expect her in her greenhouse, or flying in the air, but she rarely spent her time in the forests behind the mansion. The longer she spent away from her teammates, the better. She'd talk to them only when she felt comfortable enough to wear her "goddess" persona again.

She decided to sit on the dock and take in the trees and the gentle noises surrounding the pond. Right now, they sounded more peaceful than laughter. Her heart sank. Maybe, too, she should rethink her qualifications. Perhaps she should step down as an X-Men leader.

Unfortunately, she forgot that Logan liked the woods, too.

"Hey, darlin,'" Logan chuckled, and Ororo jumped. She should have heard him walking down the dock, but everything in her was off by a few degrees. Blast that hangover.

"Logan," she said stiffly. He settled in beside her and took a cigar from his pocket. But at the sick look on her face, he put it carefully back.

"What a night, huh?"

She straightened and cleared her throat. "I wouldn't know."

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "What, I ain't yer 'mountain man' no more?"
Ororo covered her eyes in shame. "Logan, please do not tease me. I acted like an utter fool. Worse, I cannot remember anything after...after I called you those accursed words."

Logan grinned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Heh. I was flattered, 'Ro. Don't let it getcha down. 'Sides, you had a lot more 'words' for me last night. Mountain man was definitely the nicest."

She peeked through her fingers. "I am afraid to ask."

"Well, lessee..." He ticked off his fingers. "Asshole, son of a bitch, bastard...oh, an' my personal favorite: Toad-faced, shit-sucking moron. There were a few others, but that one took some thinkin' on yer part."

Ororo shuddered. "Will you ever forgive me?"

" 'Course I will. Chuck on the other hand, well..." He shrugged. She looked up horrified, and he tweaked her chin. "I laughed my ass off. Drunk or sober, you always make people think twice 'bout who they are."

Ororo saw a strange flicker in his eye, but she didn't pursue it. "Logan, I am a prized ass." She placed her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the sound of the laugh in his chest. She didn't mind him laughing at her, as long as he wasn't angry with her.

"Darlin', you simply told the truth 'bout what was in yer heart for so long. 'Bout time."

She blinked. The truth--? Surely not. She hoped she didn't say what she thought she said. She carefully took her head from his chest and he helped her sit up. "Regardless, Logan, I have a lot to apologize for, to everyone. I will understand if I am no longer welcomed as a leader of the team."

Logan shook his head. "I think yer even more welcome than ever. The goddess came down off 'er cloud, and we saw the human underneath. It's been a while. It's been too long."

Ororo sighed. "I still had no right to take my frustrations out on everyone else."

"Maybe. Or maybe they just needed t'see yer frustrations so they'd stop takin' you for granted."

Ororo shook her head tiredly. "Will I never live down last night? Tell me everything you remember, Logan. Perhaps then I can prepare myself for the laughter in the hallways."

"Well, there was that one thing..."

"Tell me. Please, I beg you. Tell me, no matter how embarrassing you think it is."

Logan scratched the back of his neck. "You sure 'bout this? I swore everyone to secrecy on it. We weren't gonna tell you."

Her eyes narrowed, and a clap of thunder echoed across the pond. "Logan, all of my faculties have returned. If you do not tell me, I swear--"

"All right, all right. But I warned ya." He grunted. "Didn't even think you knew the song."

"Logan--!"

He grinned at her. "You did this Marilyn Monroe number."

"What--?"

"Sang that song, 'I wanna be loved by you,' or somethin'. You know, that cartoon girl sings it."

Ororo swallowed. "Betty Boop."

"Yeah. That one. You stood up on the table--"

"I did not!"

"You did. Stood up as big as life, pretendin' to do a striptease while runnin' yer fingers up an' down yer body and in yer hair. 'Course Remy and Bobby egged ya on. Remy threw money at ya, and Rogue hit 'im. Chuck an' Hank had enough sense to look embarrassed. I think Warren actually clapped."

Ororo wanted to hide under the dock. "Good Goddess."

"Heh. I thought it was kinda funny myself. And cute."

She stood up, suddenly furious. "Oh really, Logan? Did you throw money at me as well? Did you egg me on?"

Logan shook his head. His face was only somewhat teasing, but mostly serious. "No, darlin'. I didn't do a thing. I didn't, 'cause you weren't singin' it to nobody else but me."

Ororo swayed a little and Logan helped her sit back down. "Well, you asked fer it. That was probably the worst. 'Cept when you planted yer foot on my chest in the middle of yer song. That was a little...weird."

"I am...I am so sorry for embarrassing you like that, Logan."

"Only feel sorry for yerself if you didn't mean it."

Ororo swallowed. He knew her secret. If he didn't understand it before, he sure did now. Well, she couldn't undo the past. She just hoped that there wouldn't be too many awkward moments and they could remain friends. "Logan, I--"

She stopped suddenly because his lips were uncomfortably close to hers. He was tasting her, tasting the foulness of last night, and yet something more. He nudged her cheek with his nose. His chin scraped her lips. His lips...his lips...Oh--

They kissed, and Ororo couldn't imagine something so wonderful happening again. But then he stopped and looked at her, really looked deep into her startled blue eyes, and softly repeated the kiss. She closed her eyes and kissed him back and last night's troubles faded to the back of her mind.

"Thanks fer wakin' me up, goddess," he whispered in her ear. "I needed the shake."

"No problem," Ororo said, stunned. She honestly couldn't think of anything else to say. "I...I guess this ended well after all..."

Logan chuckled and wrapped his arms around her body. He sighed deeply, enjoying how she fit in the folds of his arms. Ororo stole a look at his face and was surprised to see the grin that split the sides of his mouth. Was it actually her doing? It was the first time in a long time she'd seen such happiness there.

"Yeah, I'd say so. Or maybe y'could say it's beginning well."

A slow smile crept across Ororo's lips, threatening to spread as wide as Logan's. "Beginning well...I like the sound of that. Perhaps," she began teasingly, "I should get drunk more often."

Logan burst out laughing. "Not on my watch, honey. Hank'd shoot you first. Then Rogue."

Her brow furrowed. "What? What did I say to them that--?"

She never got to finish. Logan turned her back around and caressed her face with his rough hand. She sighed, remembering how she dreamed of this moment. Remembering the hard, lonely times her heart ached in its emptiness.

"It ain't important."

"No, it's not," she echoed. They kissed again, and yesterday's regret suddenly became tomorrow's possibilities.

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Notes: This takes place directly after the scene in "Stormy's Morning After" where Ororo calls Logan her "rugged mountain man."
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This is what she conveniently forgot...

"Huhn? 'Rugged mountain man'?"

Logan half-grinned at the woman in his arms and started laughing as she traced her finger down the sides of his muttonchops. "'Ro, yer gonna really regret this. I've got enough ta blackmail you 'til the next century."

She started giggling like a schoolgirl and then suddenly, her knees gave way. Logan watched as she crumpled around his feet in a heap, laughing her fool head off.

"Rich?"

Richard shrugged and peered over the counter. Logan picked Ororo up by one arm and steadied her head to look at the bartender.

"Hello," Ororo said. "Do I know you?"

"Hello," Rich said back. "Probably not for long."

"Well?" Logan had to keep a firm grip on her arm to keep her from slipping back to the floor.

"She'll be okay, more or less. But all of it hasn't hit her yet. Get ready for anything. And she shouldn't have anything else to drink. She's wasted."

"I am not wasted," Ororo muttered. "I am in absolute control." To prove it, she marched from Logan's grasp and weaved over to Jean and Scott's table. By now everyone had seen how she wrapped her hands around Logan. At first they assumed they had begun dating. But when she fell to the floor...No, she didn't...did she? She couldn't be. Was...was she actually drunk--? Surely not. Not their Ororo. Logan followed after her with a slight smile on his face.

"Hello, Jean," Ororo said to Jean. She flopped down in a chair across from her and Scott. Jean stifled a giggle behind her hand and Scott's frown deepened. "Just how are you, anyway? Is Scott keeping you busy?"

Scott glared at Logan, and Logan held up his hands. "Nope, nuh uh. She got into this one all by herself. I didn't have nothin' ta do with it."

"Really. Why do I doubt that, Logan? I wouldn't put it past you to try something like this." Scott turned to Ororo, sighing. "Ororo, I think someone should take you h--"

"Wait, wait, no, wait! Hold on a minute. I must do this first. Hold on." She slipped off her shoes and put her stomach on Jean and Scott's table.

"What the hell--? Ororo! Get off our table!" Scott glanced at his wife for support, but she was laughing too hard. "Come down from there!"

"No, not yet." Ororo bent on one knee and waved her arms at her sides to steady herself.

"Ororo, you're going to fal-"

"No she ain't," Logan said. He was trying to hold back a laugh, but it wasn't working. A half-snarl, half-chuckle escaped from his lips as he took one of Ororo's hands.

"Thank you, Logan," Ororo said. Leaning heavily against Logan's hands, she stood as straight as the Tower of Pisa, and surveyed the bar. "Goddess. I am tall."

"Yes, you are, 'Ro. You figure out what'cha wanna do up there?"

"She wants to get off the damn table, that's what," Scott muttered. Jean hushed him.

//Let her have her fun,// she said telepathically. //How often are we treated to the 'real' Ororo, anyway?//

//Hopefully never,// Scott thought back sourly. His wife simply giggled.

"C'mon, Stormy! Shake you' moneymaker!" Remy said. He stuck his fingers in his mouth, on the opposite sides of a cigarette, and let out a loud wolf whistle. Rogue elbowed him in the gut. "Ah, c'mon, chere. You no fun."

"Good Heavens," Hank whispered. He tapped Charles on the shoulder, and he and Lilandra both turned. They stared, unblinking, at the tall woman on the table.

"I can't watch," Charles muttered, but he hadn't turned away. His eyes were glued to one of his children--his sanest child--weaving drunkenly on a bar table. "Honestly, Henry. Tell me when it's over."

Lilandra swallowed. "You cannot feel embarrassed about what you didn't see, can you?"

"You have a point." He raised an eyebrow and swallowed. "Hank, I think things have officially gone beyond my capacity to cope." He and Lilandra exchanged glances and he maneuvered his chair to the door. She followed him quickly. "If anything goes wrong...Don't tell me about it, unless it's a matter of life or death. I don't want to know."

Hank nodded, but he really wasn't watching his friend and mentor leave. His eyes were focused on one of the seven signs of the real Apocalypse--not the X-men's sworn enemy.

"Stor-my, Stor-my--"

Bobby started the chant that rose up to a dull roar in the tavern. As they called her name people slammed the tables and stomped their feet, waiting for this dark-skinned, white-haired goddess to make a move. Unused to such sudden attention, Ororo's eyes widened, and she looked down at Logan for support.
"Why did I come up here?"

"Dunno, darlin'. It's your call. You c'n come back down, if ya want."

"What should I do?"

Logan half-shrugged. Later, when he looked back on it, he figured this was probably when another portion of the alcohol kicked in.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Storm said grandly. She waved her hand above the crowd, and they hushed like children watching a circus lion tamer. "I shall now avail you with a song. Yes, a song. To this wonderful, dear man to my left--"

"--yer right."

"My right." She glanced down at Logan again. "Am I right?"

Logan couldn't stop the bubble of laughter in his chest. "Yer fine. Keep goin' before Slim blows a gasket."

Scott folded his arms, resigning himself to the show.

"What song, Stormy?" Bobby asked.

"Only the best song in the world, sung by the best actress, who shares the best last name: Ms. Marilyn Monroe."

"She's dead, ya know," Logan said.

Storm put a hand to her lips. "She is? That is so sad, Logan! Very, very, very. Sad. Very. That means I should sing this song for her, and you. Wherever you are, Marilyn," she yelled, "this is for you!"

"I gotta see dis one up close, chere," Remy muttered to Rogue before leaving their table. "Sure wish I had a camera."

"Go ahead. Be mah guest. But I'm stickin' to the back to make a quick getaway in case Storm sobers up."

"Ain't gonna happen any time soon," Remy laughed. "Not if she already singin' on de tables."

He took a seat on the other side of Scott who, if anyone could see it, was rolling his eyes.

"Well, Stormy? Ya gonna start singin' fo' us, or you gonna leave us hangin'?"

"Do not call me Stormy," Storm said grandly.

"Huhn. Now she remembers."

"Shut up, Cajun," Logan barked, but his shoulders were shaking from laughter. "My arm's gettin' tired. Hurry up an' sing, 'Ro."

Logan was a little surprised when Ororo got to her knees, and so was the crowd. A few groaned sadly, believing the show was over. Ororo stared at Logan eyeball to glassy eyeball.

"So? You done? Are ya comin' d--"

"I want to be loved by you," she suddenly belted. "Just you, and nobody else but you. I want to be loved by you, aloooooone..." Her round, full lips brushed past Logan's ear. "Boop booh, be doop!"

"Oh, dis is priceless," Remy muttered. "Nobody 'round here gotta camera? C'mon!"

Ororo then got back on her feet and balanced as well as she could, without Logan's help. She ran her fingers up and down her sides seductively and pretended to hike her t-shirt over her head. Logan's cigar--and Remy's cigarette--tumbled from their lips simultaneously.

"I want to be loved by youuu," Ororo sung breathlessly. She ran a finger from the tip of her lips down the front of her cleavage and then placed the same finger on Logan's lips. "Just you, and nobody else but you!" She then ran her fingers through her hair. Warren began clapping.

"Go, Stormy, it's your birthday!" Bobby shouted. "Go Stormy, go Stormy!"

Remy whistled again and threw money on the table, but for one of the few times in his life, Logan was stunned speechless.

"This is ridiculous!" Scott growled. "Jean, help her off the table. She's making a complete spectacle of herself."

"Not on your life," Jean laughed. "I think this the funniest thing I've seen all week, and I'm going to enjoy it."

Scott fumed, but the truth was, Jean could see just how much he was enjoying it too, in their mindlink. On the outside he was serious, for the sake of his reputation, but on the inside he was laughing as hard as Remy.

Ororo pretended to hike a skirt up over her navel, even though she wore jeans. "I want to be loved by you, aloooone! Boop booh, be doop!"

She suddenly got down on her knees again, and put her breasts right in Logan's face. He actually swallowed as she ran her fingers through his hair, making his already bristly coif stick up in every conceivable direction. "I want to be llllloved by you..."

The crowd roared while Remy glanced at Logan. "Uh, homme, you t'ink we need a cold shower after dis?"

"Uh huh. A real long one."

She half-sat, half-fell on her butt while planting a foot on Logan's chest. Then she weaved her toes into his half-opened shirt, searching for chest hair. Unconsciously he started to growl. "Just you, and nobody else but you. I want to be lllllloved by you--"

He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Uh, 'Ro, any closer and we'll need a room."

"Alooooooone! Booh booh, be doop!"

She got close enough to him, and he clamped a hand over her mouth before she could belt out another chorus.

"Ahhh, homme! You spoilin' all de fun."

"Any more fun, and we'd be at a nudist camp."

The crowd, however, whistled and clapped and felt satisfied with the show. Logan's blonde gave him the evil eye, but he still grabbed 'Ro off the table, slung her over one shoulder, and took her to Rogue's table in the back. He didn't think he'd being seeing the blonde again anyway, after 'Ro's little performance. Remy followed him, laughing.

"Am I done?" Ororo asked. She was still slung over his shoulder.

"You are t'night," Logan said, planting Ororo next to Rogue. He ran his fingers through his spiky hair, knowing full well it wouldn't spring back until he washed it again. "Present for ya, Rogue."

"What the heck'm I supposed to do with her?"

Remy, Logan, and Rogue watched as Ororo's head bobbled and slammed into the table.

Remy winced. "Ooh, dat's gotta hurt."

"No worse than the hangover she'll have tomorrow."

"I guess so."

"Well, Rogue," Logan said, gesturing to Ororo's prone form. "There's yer answer. Y'don't need ta do a thing."


* * *

Remy pulled out a chair and Logan sat back, putting his feet on the table. He glanced at Ororo out cold between them and watched her chest gently rise and fall.

Rogue suddenly smacked the back of Remy's head.


"Hey! What's dat for?"

"For throwin' money at Storm!"

Remy rubbed his skull and was about to fight back, when he saw Hank amble over to their table.

"Stars and garters," Hank muttered, interrupting their spat. He looked at Ororo sideways and lifted one of her eyelids. Ororo didn't move. The blue, furry doctor glanced at Logan and Gambit worriedly. "Is she all right?"

Remy laughed and patted Ororo's head, and tried pulling back her platinum hair so it didn't cover the entire table. "Yeah. She jus' gonna have one helluva hangover t'morrow."

"Good Heavens. How much did she drink? That song...that--that dance. I can't imagine anything strong enough to make her act this out of character."

"Try four Long Island Ice Teas," Logan said, patting his pocket for a cigar. He realized his shirt was open an extra buttonhole, and he closed it up.

"Four?" Hank thundered. "Good Lord, man! She had four of those horrid drinks?"

"Been dere, done dat, Doc," Remy said. He sipped his beer and planted a foot on the table. "I suffered worse den dat when I was a pup. She'll be okay."

"She most certainly won't!" Hank balled his hands on his hips. "Considering her slight physiognomy and her virgin drinker status, not to mention her mutant genes--"

"She'll be fine, Hank," Logan chuckled. "Sick as a dog, but fine."

Hank sighed, trying one more time. He grabbed Ororo's limp wrist and glared at his watch while checking her pulse. "Logan, do you have any idea how much liquor is in a Long Island Ice Tea?"

"Two ounces, more'r less."

"That's right. And how many did Ororo have?"

"Four. We established that already, Hank. Four. F-O-U-R. Four."

"Yes, we have," he said sharply. "Which makes eight ounces of liquor--or more parading in her blood stream. In your brutish terms, that's the equivalent of eight or so shots. Or more."

"Which is a bunch. I know the story, Hank. I'm watchin' her. Trust me."

Hank tapped his finger on the table dangerously and glared at Logan. "You better hope so, Logan. I would hate to take this woman to the hospital."

Logan grunted and tapped his nose. "I'm on it, Hank. Every sense I've got is on overload. How's her pulse?"

"Fine. For the moment," Hank shot back. "But she shouldn't have anything else to drink. At all."

"Shouldn't be a problem. She's out cold."

"Yes. Well. I shall be checking on her periodically, in case your senses are wrong. After all, you aren't a doctor, are you?"

"No I'm not, Hank," Logan said. He watched the doctor stomp off and shook his head. "Mother hen."

Rogue frowned and ran her fingers across Ororo's hair. "Sure she's okay? She ain't in any danger, like Hank said?"

"Nah," Logan said. He patted his pockets and brought out some matches. "I knew she was fine at the bar. She reeked of alcohol, but she didn't smell like death, or anything. I even double checked with Rich, an' he's an ex-paramedic." He shrugged and lit his cigar. "But try explainin' all that to a doctor. 'Sides, I'm sure Richard watered the drinks down for 'er."

"He prolly needed t' water 'em down some more," Remy smirked, "considerin' how she took it. You t'ink she out for de night, homme?"

"I'm hopin'," Logan sighed, puffing his cigar.

Rogue smiled smugly and snuggled into Remy's shoulder. He unconsciously draped his arm behind her. "Why, sugah? You too embarrassed to get serenaded again?"

Logan's lip curled. "Nope. It ain't that. The singin' don't bother me."

Remy began chuckling, and Rogue tried to see the look on her boyfriend's face beneath his sunglasses. "You talkin' 'bout de 'Second Stage.'"

"You got it."

Rogue studied the men, frowning. "What're you sayin'? Has she done this b'fore?"
"Non, chere," Remy said. He suddenly had a cigarette between his lips, and a thick cloud of cigar and cigarette smoke hovered above their table. "Not dat I know of. But y'see, dere's dis point where drunk femmes start t'inking we men be pig scum, an' any homme on two legs is a walkin' target. It ain't pretty."

Rogue made a silent "O" with her lips and then started grinning. "Maybe I should wake 'er up. I'd love to see 'er make holy hash outta you bums."

"I bet you would," Logan growled. "And if you wake 'Ro up, you'll be seein' me puncture all four of yer new tires with my claws."

"Don't you dare harm mah new truck! You touch one tire on Betty's frame, an' I'll--"

Both men started laughing. "Betty? You named yer truck Betty?"

Rogue folded her arms and shoved Logan's chair back with her foot. "Yeah, so? People name their cars an' trucks all the time. I like Betty. You got a problem with that, Stumpy?"

Logan wiped moisture from his eyes. "Nah. But c'mon, 'Betty'?" He chuckled again and Remy joined him. Rogue just fumed harder.

"Y'all're just bein' mean. No, worse--you're bein' men."

"I was last time I looked in the mirror, sweetheart."

"You're impossible." Rogue snorted and punched Remy.

"Hey, why you punchin' me, chere? Logan said it!"

" 'Cause you're closer. An' all y'all are in cahoots with each other anyway!"

The men traded glances and shook their heads. When Rogue wasn't looking, they both mouthed the word, "women."

Remy took his arm from behind Rogue's shoulders and stood up. "You wanna 'nother drink, homme?"

"Wouldn't mind it," Logan said, tipping his beer bottle back.

"Chere?"

"Naw. I'm good."

Remy inadvertently bumped the table when he swept past, which was just enough for Ororo to open her weary eyes.

Logan smiled and tilted his head to meet Ororo's red-rimmed blue eyes. "You ready ta play nice?"

"Logan? Is my head stuck to the table?"

"No, darlin.'"

"That is...a relief." She rose up carefully and rested her head on her hands.

"She almost sounds sober," Rogue said.

"She ain't. She's probably drunker than before."

Rogue rubbed Ororo's shoulder sympathetically. "Naw. She's just tired now, is all. Aint'cha?"

Wolverine sneered a little and lit a new cigar. "Suit yerself. But I'm tellin' ya, she's plastered."

"Feelin' any better, Storm?"

Storm shrugged and stared at Rogue through squinted, glazed over eyes. "Rogue?"

"Yeah, hon'. It's me."

"Where is Remy?"

"Gone t'get more drinks. You know him."

"He left you?"

Logan sighed. "Uh, oh. Here it comes."

"Bastard!"

The entire bar looked up at the shouted phrase. It shattered through the walls, across conversations, and over the noise of the jukebox. "You tell 'em, honey!"
Logan did a double take. The blonde--his blonde--was suddenly on 'Ro's side.

"Figures," he grunted. "It's the damn ya-ya sisterhood."

Ororo rose shakily to her feet and glared across the room. "Remy LeBeau, you are a bastard!"

Remy cringed and quickly brought the beers back to the table. "Second Stage?"

"Second Stage," Logan agreed. "We shoulda taken her home after the damn song."

"D'accord, homme. But it's a little late n--"

Ororo pointed her finger at him. "Lightning, I command you to strike!"

"Merde."

Remy jumped at the little spark that leapt from Ororo's fingers. He sure as hell was grateful that it didn't feel much worse than sticking his tongue in a nine-volt battery, but it still stung. He hissed and rubbed his arm where the spark struck. "Damn--! Padnat, I t'ink it's time we take y' back h--"

"You left her! Left this poor child defenseless...all alone!" Ororo grabbed Rogue's head and cradled it in her hands. Tears welled in her eyes. She began rocking Rogue's head back and forth, as if carrying an infant, and Rogue's eyes pleaded with Logan to stop this mess. Logan shrugged.

"We gotta let it play out, darlin'."

"Yeah, uh huh," Rogue muttered. "It ain't your head in a vice. I'm jus' hopin' she don't touch mah face. I don't think I could handle a drunk Ororo in mah head."

Remy peeked over at Rogue. "You okay in dere, chere?"

"What do you think?"

Remy shrugged. He wasn't about to help Rogue out, just in case Ororo had another batch of stingers up her sleeve. Or worse.

"You left her," Storm wailed. "Have you no shame? Men...all of you, I condemn you! You love and leave without a care to the hearts you break!"

Logan rubbed his eyes. "Ro, why don'tcha put Rogue's head down fer a sec--"

Ororo spat at Logan from between clenched teeth. "And you, you're the worst male asshole of all--!"

Her hand shot out again, and another spark leapt from her fingers. Logan jerked away as a tiny bolt grazed his cheek. "Calm down, 'Ro. I ain't the anti-Christ."

But she was beyond all rational thought. "How dare you, lover of all, husband to none! When will you leave them--" and she pointed to a wide-eyed Jean and Scott "--alone, you stupid son of a bitch! They are married. Jean does not need you any more."

"I t'ink I liked her singin' better," Remy said.

Logan's half-smirk hardened. "All right, 'Ro. We get the picture."

Ororo leaned in close to Logan, eyes narrowing, but she still had a hold of Rogue's head. "Ow, Storm! C'mon, leggo! I ain't a football!" Rogue finally wiggled free, but in a way she wished she'd still been underneath Storm's grasp. Everyone in the bar was staring at the little scene. Even their friends couldn't stop their slack-jawed gaping.

"I think not, Logan." Storm planted her hands on the table to steady herself, and the passion in her voice kept her standing tall, to Logan's regret. She leaned into his face and began shouting. "She does not love you! Get over it, you...you--you toad-faced, shit-sucking moron!"

When Logan's eyebrows shot up, she wheeled unsteadily on her heels and zigzagged over to Jean and Scott's table. Scott rose to his feet to meet her challenge, and Ororo shoved him back down. Unfortunately, the force of shoving him back in his chair also made her slip and fall to the floor. "And you two," she began. She had started talking to Jean and Scott's feet. Jean had to tilt Ororo's chin to meet their faces. "And you two, Mister and Missus Sumlers--"

"Summers," Scott automatically corrected. He wasn't sure what to make of Ororo on all fours, peering angrily into his face. He was embarrassed for her and for himself at the same time.

"I said Sumlers. Leave Logan alone, and quit picking on him. And you, Red," she snarled. Her head swiveled precariously in Jean's direction. "Quit giving Logan the 'look'!"

Jean hid her smile despite the situation. "The 'look'?"

"You know which 'look' I'm looking for...at! The one he crosses galaxies to get! You have someone. Leave Logan alone!"

"Yes, ma'am," Jean said softly. A smile crept across her face.

Ororo turned from her and glared back at Scott. "Treat Jeannie right, Scoot...Scott-er. Screw your marriage up, and I will personally kick your butt, again. I can do it, too, with or without powers."

All Scott could do was sigh and stare sadly at his wife. Jean shrugged. "Well, at least she didn't try to fry us."

Scott just stared at her as his eyebrow crept into his scalp.

Ororo scrambled crab-like to her feet and swayed dangerously, like a loosely rooted tree in heavy winds. Remy and Logan exchanged glances and nodded to each other before flanking both her sides.

"You all treat me like shit," she declared, loud enough for the X-men members to hear it. "I am not your little sister. I am not your daughter. I am not your damned 'padnat'"--she glared at Remy--"and I am not your mother. I am me. Quit treating me with kid gloves. I have a heart and I want my old friends back. I want ones that used to go shopping with me. I want the ones I used to laugh with. I want my single friends back. Am I that boring?"

Her knees gave way, and both Remy and Logan caught her elbows. A small group of people--women, Logan noticed with a small sneer--were clapping and cheering. "You finished now?" He asked softly.

"Bastard," she muttered. Her head lulled into Logan's arms. "You and all your kind. Men. Bastards. Just like Forge, damn him."

"Yeah, yeah," Remy said, sighing. He untangled himself from Ororo's grasp and folded her other arm into Logan's chest. "We all jus' like Forge. We all pig scum."

"Yes. Pig scum," Ororo echoed. Her voice faded, and she began to snore.

Logan sighed and scooped her into his arms. "Show's over, folks. There ain't gonna be a repeat performance."

"Thank God," Bobby said from the back. "Can we go home now?"

* * *

Bobby's voice broke the spell. The embarrassed X-Men filed back to their cars, hoping they didn't have to face another night like that. Most filed it away in their memories as well, realizing that a drunk Ororo wasn't someone they wanted to tangle with again.

Hank clucked his tongue and caught up to Logan, who was slowly walking into the parking lot with Ororo in his arms. He placed two large furry fingers on Ororo's carotid artery and counted carefully. "I still don't feel comfortable, Logan."

Logan smirked. "Yeah, she did sorta chew us a new one."

"No, no. Well, that too. But I meant with the alcohol she drank. I'd like to monitor her condition, especially since she is unconscious. May I join you?"

"Well, me an' Ororo came in Rogue's truck. I think there's room for one more, if you ask Rogue. What about Trish?"

"I sent her back with Bobby. He needs to drop off his girlfriend first, so Trish promised to meet me later, at the mansion."

Logan nodded. "I don't see any problems with you taggin' along with us."

"Very well. I'll just ask Rogue, and join you shortly." Hank took one last reading before jogging to catch up with Remy and Rogue.

"Cute butt," Ororo mumbled.

Logan gazed down at her, smirking. "Thought you were still out of it. I wouldn't know, 'Ro. I don't stare at Hank's ass."

"Nuh, uh. Meant you."

"Ah. I gotcha. So I ain't a toad-faced, shit-suckin' moron no more?"

"Mmm," she mumbled, and cuddled deeper into his arms. "Love you, Logan."

"Yeah. I love you too, 'Ro."

Her blue, bloodshot eyes suddenly opened and met his, and he swore she was seeing straight into his soul. "I mean I love love you, Logan. Always did. Why'd you have to go and fall for dumb ol' Jean, anyway? I can dye my hair. Am I ugly?"

He cleared his throat. "'Course not, darlin'."

"Then why don't you like me?"

"I do like you."

"I want you to like me as much as Jean. More than Jean. Will you kiss me?"

Logan glanced down at Ororo and saw a tenderness there that stirred his heart. "Maybe later, darlin', when you can appreciate it better. You ain't exactly gonna remember it now."

"Okay," she sighed. She went limp in his arms again. "I love you anyway."

While her breathing slowed he looked at her a little differently. He'd always known she loved him that way. But now...now he wondered if he didn't feel the same. 'Ro was right. Chasing after Jeannie, well, that was just a fool's quest. He always chased what he couldn't have, and Jeannie liked playin' the game as much as he did. He hadn't realized how much they hurt 'Ro with their little games. Suddenly, it didn't feel so fun anymore.

"Sorry, 'Ro," he whispered. "I'll try an' change it around. Kinda time for it, huh?"

Ororo sighed and hugged him tighter.

"Yeah. Thought so."

Rogue had her hands on her hips in front of her truck, while Hank was hunched over in the back seat.

"You comin' or what? Get the lead out! I wanna get home b'fore the neighborhood comes after us with shotguns."

"Yeah, yeah, we're comin', Ms. Mouth of the South," Logan muttered. Hank had his hands out, and Logan transferred Ororo into the doctor's eager arms. "Careful with that one, Hank. Precious cargo."

"With a tongue to match," Hank sighed, scooting Ororo beside him. Logan crammed into the front passenger seat with Remy, who put his arm behind Rogue to make room. He watched as Ororo's hair tilted over her seat like a white waterfall and daydreamed about running his fingers through it when a loud, barking snore came from deep in her chest.

"Let's hear it for the Goddess." He smirked, sharing a grin with Remy.

The blue doctor shook his head and kept a finger on her pulse while staring at his watch. "I wonder if we will ever be welcome at Harry's again. Do you think Ororo will have any memory of this night, or should we tease her mercilessly about it?"

"I'm gonna make everyone swear that dance to secrecy," Logan sighed. "But the rest...well, let's call it fair game."

"Amen t'dat," Remy said. He swiveled halfway around in the front seat with a funny half-smirk on his face. "Next time Stormy pull a 'goddess' on me, I'm gonna remind 'er of dis night. It ain't gonna be pretty. Fact, I might even add a scene or two."

"Remy, you're just awful," Rogue muttered, putting the key in the ignition. "You better stick to the facts, or I'll brain ya."

"Chere, you no fun. Dat's all part of blackmail. You gotta see how much you c'n get away wit'."

"She's gonna be mortified as it is," Logan said quietly. "Give 'er a day or two to get comfortable with us again. Then let 'er have it."

Remy turned back around. "I'm all for dat. Jus' tell me when an' where."

"Shaddap you two old ladies," Rogue muttered, "an' buckle up. I wanna get home in time to take a bath."

Remy smirked. "Need some comp'ny?"

"Shut up, Swamp Rat..."

Logan ignored the two fighting, and turned to watch Hank place Ororo's head in his lap. Logan found himself wanting to change places with the doctor, and a small smile licked the corners of his lips. It amazed him how things could change in a heartbeat.


* * *

"Hmmm...ohhh..."

"Sound like Sleepin' Beauty wakin' up, chere."

Logan had been lost in thought until Remy's comment brought back his focus. "Dammit. Rogue, pull over. Pull over now!"

"Huh? What's the matter? The shoulder's over three lanes of traffic, Logan! How the holy heck--"

"I don't care! Just do it!"

"Logan--?"

"Hank, I'd say duck and cover, if it'd help."

The doctor gulped. "You don't mean..."

Rogue swerved her truck over into the middle lane, but it was already too late.

"Hhhohhh, Goddessshrrruuuuughhhhghh!"

"Mah truck--!" Rogue screamed. She glanced back as she turned into the last lane. "Betty! Dammit, that's just sick!"

Remy doubled up with laughter until the smell hit his sensitive nose. "Aww, merde!"

"You got that right," Logan said. He made a face at the putrefying scent and covered his nose with his hands. His eyes started to water. "I can't take this. Hell, Rogue, hurry up an' park, or crack a window or somethin'!"

The only one who hadn't said anything was Hank. His face and half his clothes were covered with green and orange gooey flecks resembling an over-dressed tossed salad left ripening in the sun.

"Hank? You okay?" Logan asked the question as Rogue's truck pulled onto the shoulder. He held his hands over his nose and mouth while staring at Hank, but the doctor simply shook his head slowly.

"Damn, Hank, you look like a Cookie Monster who done got kicked in a dumpster," Remy muttered. He pulled his duster over his nose. "An' then got slimed in sh--"

"Just get out the damn door, Hank!" Logan roared. "And take 'Ro with ya. She's gonna blow again."

"Understood, Wolverine," Hank muttered. He didn't need to be told twice, and Logan didn't think he'd ever seen the doc move that fast. The door slammed back and Hank grabbed Ororo as gently as he could. As soon as Ororo's knees hit the concrete, a spurt of orange and white flew between her fingers and smacked the pavement. A portion of it splattered Hank's only dry side.

"Betty," Rogue wailed. She jumped from the truck to survey the damage, scowling. "I only had 'er a week!"

"Well now she broken in good, chere," Remy muttered. "Stuff like dis always happens t' new cars. So, it's vomit. You'll never have t' worry 'bout 'nother person throwin' up in y'truck again. What're de odds?"

"It shouldn't have happened at all! How'm I supposed to get this crap out?"

"Very carefully," Remy said. He began laughing until he saw the mean look on Rogue's face.

"Keep laughin', buster. You're the one who's gonna help me clean it!"

Remy looked horrified. "Ah, non, chere! Don' do dat--!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna do just 'dat'!"

Logan ignored them and went over to Hank. He kept his hands over his nose, watching the sick drop off the blue mutant's fur.

"That'll be a bitch to clean--it's like carpet. To bad you can't go to the cleaners."

Hank scowled at him and crouched down next to Ororo, who was dry heaving by the side of the road.

"How is she?"

"Like you said, Wolverine," he grumbled. "Sick as a dog, but all right." He shook his hand as something foul dripped down his fingers. "I, however, will be taking showers for a week to remove the smell of Bobby's dirty sweat socks from my fur."

"Try two weeks. You ain't comin' anywhere near a hundred feet of me for at least that. And then, bub, you better be downwind."

"Understood," Hank said darkly. "Despite being a doctor, no one likes having bodily fluids thrown in their face."

"Or thrown-up in their face."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

Hank didn't even bother cleaning himself off, even when Rogue offered him a tissue. It wouldn't do any good, and he knew it.

Logan, however, did something none of them expected. After a few moments of watching Ororo cough, he stared at her strangely, and a contented look spread across his features. He actually uncovered his nose, bent down next to her, and kissed the top of her head. He then whispered in her ear and rubbed her back, even though he knew she was too far gone to hear him: "Yer all right, you know that?"

"Ugh, Logan! That's sick! She got chunks all in her hair, an' everything! Gross!"

"Yeah, I know. She smells to high heaven." A small smile creased his grizzled face as he sized her up, head to toe. "She ain't no goddess, that's for sure. I kinda like 'er that way."

"Well, you can keep 'er," Rogue muttered, getting back in the truck. She slammed back the power windows switch and ran the air conditioning full blast. "She ruined mah truck! Whatever Remy an' I can't clean, she's payin' for it!"

"Yeah, well, I'll pitch in for some of it." Logan cradled 'Ro in his arms despite the smell and the mess, and took her in the back seat with him.

Hank was about to join them when Rogue sharply held up her hand. "Out! You ain't settin' foot in this vehicle!"

"Honestly, Rogue! I can't possibly walk--"

"Sorry, doc. You stink too bad. Most of 'Ro's crap got on you, an' I don't want any more of that smell in here than I have to. You gotta sit in the truck bed."

"What? Are you mad, woman?"

"It's either that, or you can hoof it back."

Hank clamped his jaw, seeing the clear choice between riding in Rogue's truck bed or walking back the last five miles covered in upchuck.

"Fine," he growled. "Truck bed, it is."

"That's what I thought."

She slammed the truck in gear as soon she saw Hank crawl into the back from the side mirror. "It'd probably be faster if I got outta the truck and flew us back," Rogue mumbled.

"Nothin' doin', chere," Remy said. He still had his nose and mouth covered with his duster. "If Logan an' me gotta take it, so d'you. 'Sides, I'm gonna help you clean dis truck, right?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Whatever. I'll b'lieve it when I see it." She glanced in the rear view mirror and watched Logan keep Ororo's head elevated in his lap. "I dunno how you can stand it back there, Logan. I would've thought you'd been keeled over dead by now, what with you're sense of smell an' all."

"Dunno, Rogue," he said gruffly. He peeled back some of Ororo's hair, smiling at the gentle frown on her face. "Sometimes ya gotta dig past a lotta shit t'see the diamond underneath."

Rogue made a face, not understanding Logan's analogy. "I guess so. But I'd rather have a clean truck than a smelly diamond any day."

* * *

"Merde. Hurry up! It smell like de bayou when a dead gator rolls up."

"Yeah, well it ain't no picnic back here either, bub."

"Would you two knock it off?!"

Rogue pulled through the gates and Remy jumped out the door before the truck stopped moving.

"Remy--!"

"Sorry, chere. I need a shower. Right now!"

Bobby watched Rogue's truck slow to a stop. He snuffled loudly when his blue friend lumbered out of the back covered in a greasy gray slime straight out of a "Ghostbuster" movie.

"Geeee-ROSS, Hankmeister! What swamp did you crawl out of? What the h-uh, oh. Got it. Mount Ororo erupted, huh?"

"How ever did you guess?"

Trish cleared her throat and held her nose. "Um, Hank?"

"Yes, Trish."

"Do you mind if we forego the goodnight kiss for once?"

"I think it would be most prudent."

"Good...ah. Sorry, Hank. See you?"

"Yes. Would you like to borrow my car to get home?" Hank dug in his pockets for his keys, but Trish didn't want to take them from his fingers. Hank sighed. "Bobby, could you take Trish home for me?"

"Love to, Blue Guy. Anything to get away from the smell of rotting salad."

"Thanks. Thanks a heap."

"Anytime, pal."

Hank's mouth curled sadly as Logan got out of the truck, holding Ororo. "Logan, Ororo owes me a goodnight kiss."

"Ya want it now, or later?"

"Later. Much later. Preferably after she has a few dozen perfumed baths."

"Don't blame ya." He watched Hank mutter something about dry cleaning solution as he headed for the front door, but halfway up the doctor stopped and opted for one of the side doors. Logan smirked. Yeah, if he were in the fuzzy mutant's shoes, he wouldn't want anyone to smell it any more than they had to, either.
Logan glanced at Ororo in his arms. She had started drooling. For some reason, he found the spittle rather endearing, and his lips curled in a half-smile as he began the slow trek up the mansion walk with the stinky woman in his arms. He was surprised to see Jean waiting for him on the mansion's front lawn.

"What's up, Jeannie?"

She sighed, holding up a pair of sandals. "She forgot these at our table. Logan, go take a shower. I think you need it."

"I stink."

"Yeah, you do."

"You gonna take 'Ro on upstairs?"

"Yes. That's why I have telekinesis, thank God." She concentrated, and a gentle TK pocket scooped Ororo up in a soft bubble and flew her a good twenty feet in front of them.

"Thanks, Jeannie," Logan sighed. He kissed her cheek and headed behind the mansion. "I owe ya one."

"No, I think 'Ro owes us one."

Logan stopped short of grinning. "I c'n think of some ways she can pay me back."

"Me too...But I don't think we're thinking the same thing, are we?"

"Nope. We ain't. 'Night, Mrs. Summers."

"'Night, Logan."

Jean watched the tired man tromp up the bank, and glanced back at her unconscious friend. "You win, Ororo," she sighed. "We were awful to you, and we deserved it. Now let's get you cleaned up and in bed, where you belong."

* * *

She used her telekinesis to help Ororo shower and change, not willing to physically touch a hair on her friend's scum-encrusted body. It was kind of funny seeing Ororo "normal" for a change. The tirade convinced Jean that she hadn't spent enough time with her best friend, and showed her how much all of them in their happy little "couplehood" had ignored her. Ororo always carried her feelings inside, and Jean forgot that sometimes it took a gentle--yet firm--hand to get her friend to open up about things. Ororo wasn't the type to open up easily. Jean had conveniently forgotten that fact when she married Scott.

"Well, 'Ro, sorry I abandoned you in your time of need," she muttered. "But let's just call this a partial payback, huh?"

"Heyyyy, Jean."

Jean smiled. "You awake?" She had just finished washing Ororo's hair for the third time, and felt satisfied that there wasn't any icky residue left in it. She had been using her TK to comb through the locks when Ororo awoke. "Feeling any better?"

"Feel like crap."

"Well at least you don't look like it any more. Let's get your hair dried out, 'kay?"

"'kay," Ororo mumbled. "Jean?"

"Yes'm?"

"Can I have Logan for my boyfriend now?"

Jean was startled, but she was proud of herself for not dropping the drying towel she was using in Ororo's hair. "What do you mean, hon'?"

"I think I love love him, Jean. Can I have him, if you aren't using him?"
Jean swallowed. "You can have him, 'Ro. I give you my blessing."

"Thanks, Jean. I love you, sis."

"I love you too, sis."

Ororo floated out of consciousness while Jean finished cleaning her off. She tucked her into bed and watched Ororo sleep silently, like the goddess-angel she often portrayed, and couldn't help wondering if her "pseudo" sis and Logan weren't the best fit together after all. Ororo and Logan were two sides of the same coin, both looking for the other half of themselves...and searching for the missing piece in the wrong people. Neither realized that those missing pieces had been in the other.

"Forgive me for hogging Logan so long, 'Ro," she whispered to the sleeping form. "It wasn't fair to you. Or Scott, for that matter. Good luck, hon'."

She kissed 'Ro's forehead and swore she saw a gentle smile touch the lips of the goddess.

Jean returned the smile. "Thanks for being human for us again."

--Fin.--