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Sky. There was so much of it, Ororo wasn’t sure whether she was suspended in time or had simply lost the earth. It was the purest shade of blue anyone could imagine, and yet constantly whitening from the blazing sun. Whoever said the sun was red or yellow or blue was confused: the sun was a blinding white. And she exalted in it. Not the beauty of her surroundings, but the peace of it all.

Here-- wherever here was-- she was free. There was no one and nothing, just her, the blue sky, and the white sun. A sense of peace washed over Ororo, something she hadn’t felt in so long-- and never-- at the same time. Whatever worries she had were forgotten, if she could remember what her worries were in the first place; something wonderful told her she had none in this place of infinite sky. She threw her head back to laugh, to praise the goddess, to scream!-- but nothing came out. Wherever she was, the silence was meant to remain.

And that’s when the panicking started. It was odd, she knew, to begin feeling claustrophobic in such an open place, but that’s what she felt. There was no one and nothing, and yet she felt so closed in. In fact, if she focused more on what she was feeling, she might even say she was trapped by the solitude of it all. The silence wasn’t deafening, but rather confining. No matter where she went, it was there. The silence, the sky blue, and the white sun.

Ororo Munroe was utterly alone.

And then she saw a plane hurtling towards her with no plans on stopping.

She panicked.

Which, of course, was a problem. The skies opened and hail pelted the ground and Logan’s Jeep. They’d been driving for a few hours, taking the scenic route to his cabin as if there was another way (there wasn’t-- Logan kept his cabin secluded in the woods so the scenic route was the only way-- but Storm liked the idea of there being one.) He’d planned on waking her up when they got there, but after hearing the sound of ice crunching metal, he slammed his breaks, sending Storm forward. She was caught by her safety belt, then tossed back into the seat. The sudden alarm caused a lightning strike maybe fifty away.

“What did we hit?” she gasped, bracing her arms on the seat.

“Calm down! Yer making it worse, Storm,” he said, deliberately using her codename. “The weather report said sunny skies.”

Putting a hand to her forehead, she released a breath. She thought that nightmare was done with. Oh well, at least it wasn’t the full fledged night terror she used to experience. The hail immediately stopped and the skies livened up. The last legs of her nightmare were still there, but it wasn’t as bad, just the unsettling feeling that something was wrong when nothing happened. “I’m sorry,” she offered, not removing the hand from her forehead.

“Don’t be. It’s nice knowing I’m not the only who gets nightmares.” The car came back to life and the ride resumed as if they weren’t under attack from mother nature. It was an uncomfortable silence and they both knew why. Encroaching on a private person’s life was risky business, and while Ororo liked to be open, there were definite limits. “We’ve all had the monster chase us,” he said after a while, breaking the quiet.

“Indeed,” she said, not really wanting to relive the experience. It wasn’t a matter of not wanting to be open, just... the dream unnerved her. That was all. That was what she told herself.

Logan got the message. “We should be there in a few minutes.”

“Good. I’m starving.” As if waiting for a cue, her stomach rumbled. Ororo clutched herself, embarrassed.

Without taking his eyes off the road, Logan opened the glove compartment. “There should be something in there.” With some maneuvering, he handed her a baggie of pretzels. “Don’t fill up, though. I plan on making us some lunch.”

She shoved a few sticks in her mouth, thankful for something-- anything-- at all. She looked around, taking in the tall trees and scattered sun through the leaves. Without being outside, Ororo could tell the temperature was substantially lower than that of New York’s, but that was expected-- she’d read a weather report before going out.

The trip was on a whim. Yesterday Logan proposed the idea, and after a second’s thought, she figured “why the hell not?” She needed a break and with Scott and Jean in the house, they could take care of things. (Besides, she didn’t want to see the lovey dovey stuff. Lovey dovey stuff... Goddess, she sounded like Jubilee. How mortifying.) The professor thought is was a good idea. So, two packed bags and one pit stop style breakfast later, Ororo and Logan were on their first road trip to his illusive cabin in the woods.

She wasn’t aware she’d fallen asleep, but she figured it was the lack of caffeine and food in her system. She didn’t trust gas station coffee or eat gas station breakfast. Logan, on the other hand, devoured two ham and cheese breakfast sandwiches, making sure to make a show of it, while she ate a bruised banana. Jerk. This lunch better be filling and vegetarian. she thought, fully aware her malice was playful.

Swallowing a salty stick, she leaned forward, taking in the view before her. Surrounded by trees but placed dead center of a large clearing was their destination. She couldn’t help but feel like she was driving up to a Better Homes and Gardening photo shoot. “You built this by yourself?” she asked, incredulous. “Logan... This is beautiful.”
He parked, then sat and looked at his cabin for a second. Yeah, Logan supposed it was beautiful, but that didn’t really matter to him. If he didn’t have the mansion, then he would have his cabin, and he considered his cabin his home. Home. The word had such a heavy connotation to it that it really didn’t matter whether or not it was a shack or shed or a fortress, as long as he was comfortable...

“I suppose,” he said, his voice distant. Logan glanced at Ororo who was occupied with admiring the cabin. “I suppose,” he repeated, his voice... different. Ororo looked back at him, a confused brow cocked. Clearing his throat and getting out of the truck, Logan raised his voice. “I figure we have a light lunch and... What?” he asked as he walked to the trunk of his Jeep.

Ororo slumped her head back and groaned. Loudly. “I am just too hungry to have a light lunch, Logan,” she whined, her feet dragging as she made her way to the trunk as well.

Logan pinched Ororo’s side, making her squeal. “Nobody told you to not eat more at breakfast. Hell, I told you that banana wasn’t gonna do shit fer you.” He patted his still muscular stomach. “I, on the other hand, am good to go. Matter of fact, I could go for a hike before making lunch. You wanna go for a hike, Storm?”

Ororo stared at him, her eyes slits, then shook her head. Her white ponytail whipped the sides of her face. “Don’t test me Wolverine,” she warned. “I’m too hungry and too tired.” She breathed in deeply and ran her brown hand over her head, smoothing back the errant hairs. “Please.”

“Alright.”


Chamomile.

That was the first scent to waft through Logan’s room as he tossed and turned. He’d tried for two plus hours to fall asleep, but the only result was him, face up, eyes open. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to not sleeping-- there were nights he actively tried avoiding sleep-- but never in his own cabin. Here, he was supposed to be able to enjoy the comforts a normal man would, and one of those comforts was sleep.

At least he wasn’t alone.

Logan rose from his bed and followed the scent until it was overpowered by vanilla and rain. She wasn’t far off; Ororo was sitting on his porch, wrapped in a blanket, and sipping tea. Ororo rocked back and forth, a wistful look about her face. It was... sad. He wasn’t sure why it was so sad, but everything about the quiet scene was sad. She opened the blanket, allowing him room to cuddle with her. “Hey, Logan,” she said quietly. Logan dropped down beside her in the rocking chair, then pulled her legs over his lap. Ororo was the one to pull the blanket over his shoulders. “You couldn’t sleep, either?” She handed him the tea.
Logan took a sip and handed it back to her. “I’m used to it.” He rubbed her smooth legs and shrugged a shoulder. The fell silent, watching the woods. He was in a quandary: His friendship with Ororo was relatively new, and while he trusted her, there were limits on his own trust. That being said, how did he get her to open up to him about her bad dream when he couldn’t do the same for her? Ororo said she was an open book, but when she originally had her bad dream, she avoided talking about it.

The solution was easy: Open up and she would, too. There was no questioning about the fact that Ororo valued the idea of reciprocity. If someone did something for her, she would follow suit. But... it was easier said than done. He... didn’t normally open up. But if he wanted Ororo to value their friendship the way he did, Logan knew he was going to have to make some concessions.

Licking his lips and glancing at her, Logan decided he wasn’t ready to give up their friendship. Not now, not ever. She needed to trust him because... Well, he wanted to trust her. “I wasn’t lying when I said it was nice knowing you get nightmares,” he hedged. “It’s hard to explain...” he rubbed his chin. “People who get a lot of nightmares-- adults, specifically-- usually means they’re fucked up in the head. I’m fucked up in the head. But you?” Logan looked longingly at Ororo. “You’re perfect.”

“Logan, I’m not perfect--”

“No, you ain’t,” he agreed. “But you’re perfect to me. You’re... together. You’ve seen shit and you’re still able to get through it.” Logan thumbed her leg and squeezed it once. “How?”

“I guess I... I guess I don’t let it get to me.”

“Bullshit.” Logan inhaled deeply. “Why do you do that, Ro?”

“What?”

“You let yourself become people’s perception. I want you to say something real for me. Something that’s profoundly honest, something only the Ororo I know would say.” He leaned in to her and kept his gaze on hers. “So, how does the Ro I know get through it?”

Ororo traced the rim of her cup, debating whether or not she wanted to reveal her best hidden secret. With everyone else, she’d say no and give them an answer they’d be happy with. But she couldn’t here. She just couldn’t. “The Ro you know doesn’t,” she said softly. “The Ro you know simply keeps it on the inside.”

“Why, darlin’? I thought you of all people would be a big supporter of therapy.”

Ororo hummed. “I do, but...” She looked up at him, her cattish blue eyes big. You said it yourself, Logan. People hold me to a standard and I can’t let them down. Could you imagine what people would say about me if I suddenly broke down and admitted I had problems?” Tears started to pool in her cerulean eyes. “I... Can’t. Everyone depends on me for something--”

“That’s not true--”

“You want me to be honest and yet you’d lie to my face?” Logan pursed his lips and nodded.

“Okay, so people depend on you and can’t crack under pressure. But you have before-- that you can’t deny. When you ran away?”

Ororo wiped her tears and laughed. “That was different. I was... young.”

“Yer young now!” he argued.

She gave him a crooked smile, something that on anyone else would feel sarcastic and look unattractive, but on her was refreshingly human. “I should thank you, I suppose, but I don’t feel young. When I told you my age, you could scarcely believe me.” Ororo ran her fingers through her hair and ruffled it a bit. “I feel like I’ve lived more than a lifetime and I’ve yet to experience a defining moment.”

“Like?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” she huffed. “But... Goddess, Logan, what are we even talking about?” she shouted, staring at him.

Logan licked his lips. “Not a damn thing, darlin’,” he said. He wanted her. In this moment, he wanted her more than he had when they’d been back in his room at the mansion, but this moment was sacred. He would absolutely loved to reach over, pull her onto his lap, tear her panties away, and bury himself within her, but this moment was sacred. And it was sacred because not two seconds later, she started crying.

Few would ever understand how intimate it was to cry in front of another person. It was hard being vulnerable, and even harder when you became an adult. But considering who Ororo was, crying at all was a monumental feat, requiring a level of trust that she most likely gave to few. And it was in that moment that Logan knew that, yes, she valued their friendship just as much as he did.

Why she was crying-- he didn’t know. Sure, he had a few hunches-- the stress, the current tension between humans and mutants, and maybe her broken past-- but he just knew they weren’t the real reason. So he pulled her onto his lap and stroked her back, something he copied from the night he first slept beside her. The skies opened up, letting Ororo know she was not alone, not even for a second in her grief. And no matter how much Logan willed for her to let it all out, after ten minutes, his shoulder stopped feeling wet.
But he didn’t let her go.

She didn’t want to be alone so she slept in his bed.

Their legs became a tangle and Logan traced the length of her back, feeling the pearls of her spine. He watched her close her eyes and shift closer to his body. A small hand reached out for him, the thin fingers raising slightly up so he could intertwine his calloused fingers in hers. Logan watched her smile and hum, though he knew she was already asleep. He pressed a kiss to her full lips, though she never kissed him back. “Goodnight, Ro,” he whispered. It was then that Logan knew he was in trouble.

Somewhere between that first hello and her final caress, Logan fell in love with Ororo.





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