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NOTE: THANKS TO Storm and angel24buffy. (I'm sorry I haven't reviewed any of your stories, Storm-- I'm dealing with uni and it SUCKS.)

They weren’t sleeping. Logan gave Ororo a worn flannel shirt and some panties she left over at his house. After her shower, Ororo called Jean and begged her to not say anything. The big mystery would be revealed soon enough, but she had to do her this one solid. Jean said yes, but Ororo was going to spill the beans big time; Jean knew it would be juicy.

They laid in his bed, close and unmoving. Her head was buried in his chest, breathing Irish Spring body soap, laundry detergent, and musk. Ororo used to think the most wonderful smell in the world was the ground after rain-- Logan said she smelled like that-- and then she met Logan. Sweaty or dirty, he somehow always managed to smell like heaven.

His hand lazily traced up her back, feeling the delicate pearls of her back, while the other hand was tucked behind his head. Logan and Ororo often spent hours lying in this very position-- her resting slightly atop his, her leg tangled in his, their arms wrapped possessively over the other-- talking in hushed tones. Their words were only meant for the other, not even the walls could hear their lovely words.

It was the silence that was killing her. If the knowledge was sinking in, she wanted to know what he thought about it. It was painful not knowing, but she wondered if he was pained because he hadn’t known immediately or because he wished he never knew. Open books. There was a metaphoric bridge building between them; the water underneath came from her saline tears.

Closing her eyes, she wondered what it would be like to tell Charles. To tell Jean. Her friends. Her coach. The school. Would they treat her like girls said they did in movies and TV? Would she become a Juno with less witty lines? There were no cameras following her, no script helping her speak. She felt like a raw wound. Open and exposed.

It was unlike her to be so unprepared. Being prepared saved her from the awkward pause between a failed punchline and an Oxford comma.

“I thought ya were gonna break up with me.”

Ororo’s eyes fluttered open. “I thought the same thing,” she said sadly.

Logan shifted to face her. Even in the dark, she could see the intensity of his stare. “Never. I told ya, Ro, you’re the only one. Always.”

Ororo gently cupped his whiskered cheek and ran her thumb over his lower lip. “I’m scared, Logan. What happens now?”

Logan took the hand on his cheek and pressed a kiss to the soft skin, cherishing and brief. “We get you to a doctor. Tell yer dad. Plan.” Logan took a deep breath then exhaled nasally. “I think we should seriously consider you coming to live with me.”
“What?” Ororo’s body stiffened. “Why?” she asked obtusely.

Logan’s eyes dropped to her lips, watching the words be formed and pronounced. He put a hand over Ororo’s and brought his dark eyes back up to her light ones. “I take care of my own. You’re carrying the baby, but it’s still mine. I should have some say in what happens to, and in, their life.” His thick fingertips traced her willowy fingers. “I want ta get married.”

“Out of obligation?” she accused.

“I’d be a liar if I said that didn’t come into play fer my reasoning.” Ororo looked at their hands. “I want ta marry you because I know we’re meant fer each other. I know there’ll be hardships, but I can’t lose you.”

Ororo shifted closer to Logan. Why? she wanted to ask. But once again, the question was caught in her throat and her tongue felt too thick. Whatever needed to be said wasn’t coming out and Ororo felt like she missed an important opportunity. “I don’t know if I can, Logan,” she admitted. “I don’t even know if I want...” she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

“Course you do,” he said, his soft voice fierce. “You’re already in love with him.”

“Or her,” she shot back.

Logan smiled in the dark. “Or her.” He pressed his palm onto her stomach, searching for a sign of life. He knew she was too early in her pregnancy for visible kicks, but when he saw that tiny bump, he swore he would be there for the first movement and all the other movements their baby made. “I love ya, Ro.”

Ororo shifted closer to Logan. Fear still lived in her heart; it would be foolish to think his admission of love would solve everything, but it was substantially less. The only space between them were their quiet breaths. Their clothing created an invisible and tangible barrier they could break, but wouldn’t. A moment like this wasn’t meant for sex. People always confused sex with intimacy. Ororo was able to differentiate.

In this moment, she’d never felt closer to anyone in her life.

Maybe, just maybe, they could do this.

Maybe they’d be okay.

Maybe this fucked up situation was meant to happen. Maybe they were meant to be together

“I love you, too, Logan.”





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