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DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognize does NOT belong to me. They belong to either Marvel or their respective companies.
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There was someone ringing her doorbell. The ring was shrill and it was making her kitten, Panther, go crazy. Plus it was screwing with Ororo’s wallowing.

Viper knew. She just had to. There was no way she said something like that without knowing. It was conceivable that she’d been watching them from the other side of the glass doors, but they acted more like friends than lovers.

It made her paranoid that maybe Viper knew more than she let on. Had she seen the picture? It was so small and blurry... It could’ve been anything and yet Ororo grew wary.

Whoever was ringing her doorbell stopped to bang at her door.

That was more than enough to get Ororo up. She kicked off her covers and padded to her front door, uncaring of how sloppy she looked in her sweatshirt and sweatpants. Whoever was at the door was getting a very loud and very rude “FUCK OFF” because Ororo was not in the mood to play sweet. This was New York; you couldn’t just pull shit like that and expect it to slide off a Native New Yorker’s back. Hell no.

Ororo threw open the door forgetting to check the peephole. She immediately wished she had, though. It was Jean, bundled in her jacket and looking mad as hell. “Marie said she saw you and Logan huddled up together at the fundraiser, Ororo.” She shouldered past Ororo and walked into the warm townhouse. “Are you still seeing him?” she asked bluntly.

“Yes,” Ororo said through grit teeth as she slammed her door shut.

“Why? Couldn’t get enough of a married man--”

“Because I’m fucking pregnant,” Ororo snapped. Yeesh, Logan was rubbing off on her. “Get the hell out of my house if you’re gonna treat me like this. I don’t need you, Jean.”

For some odd reason, Ororo started sobbing. It was awkward and tired. She was sick of crying over everything that was happening. This wasn’t Ororo-- the strong, the proud, the resilient. And yet somehow, a rough Canadian was able to make her a blubbering baby. Ororo wanted to hate him for doing it, but she couldn’t, and she hated that she felt that way.

Somehow she ended back on her couch, crying into another person’s shoulder.

Ororo was getting sick of being like this.

When Ororo calmed, Jean looked at her friend, as though she was truly seeing the snow capped woman for the first time. Placing a hand on Ororo’s sweatpant-clad leg, Jean gave an olive branch. “Tell me about it, from beginning to now.”
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Author's note: this story jumps around a bit but I'll leave notes to connect where things are. If you catch any errors, PLEASE let me know and I'll fix them.




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