Chapter Seven: Misconceptions
“Jean?”
Ororo sat up in her bed, heedless to the grumpy grunt that came from the man beside her. She had felt it, or so she thought. A soft call of her name, a familiar voice that cried out for help.
It was gone, though. A momentary flash of red hair and soft, green eyes threw Ororo’s legs off of the side of the bed. Logan might have been awake, but he was shoved to the back of her mind.
She had to get to Jean.
“’Ro?”
Looking over her shoulder, the mutant woman was momentarily distracted. Logan stared up at her, upon his face there was the most placid, sated look she had ever seen. He reached out for her, as though the impulse could not, would not, be denied.
As rough fingertips ghosted over the bare flesh of her shoulder, Ororo couldn’t help it. She gave him a small smile of her own, shifting until she could lie beside him.
“Hello.”
“Where you goin’?” Logan asked, his eyebrow arching at her state of undress.
“Something’s happened.” Storm said simply. “Jean called for me.”
Confusion crossed that beautiful face. It startled her, thinking that this gruff, animalistic man was beautiful. He was, so beautiful. In Logan was the call of the wild, the need to run into the untamed wilderness wrapped up in flannel.
Well, right now it was wrapped in nothing but smooth skin and taut muscle.
She could feel him, even now. His touch had the uncommon ability to soothe, to inflame, to ache in one motion. Ororo had never taken a lover quite like Logan.
“Called you?” Logan asked quietly. “I didn’t hear anything.”
Unable to help herself, Ororo raised their joined hands. She had not even been aware of threading their fingers together intimately. With his forefinger, she tapped at her brow.
“She called here.” Storm replied with amusement twisting her lips. “If you can hear that, you are more gifted than we initially thought.”
Logan sat up fully, bringing Ororo with him. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something. His dark eyes were serious, regarding her with a mixture of confusion and simple tenderness that took her breath away.
From the moment she’d clapped eyes on him in the Professor’s office, she knew he would be trouble. When he’d come into her room a few hours before, Ororo had known there was no going back. In him, she found passion, desire, and a fervent need to protect. Whatever was happening between them could not be confined to simple lust.
Before Logan could speak, however, her bedroom door opened.
Ororo immediately grasped the sheet, covering her nudity and Logan’s. As she turned toward the door, she was aware of a metallic sound and the presence of lethal adamantium at her back. Without meaning to, Storm shushed Logan gently. He obviously did not like surprises. Ororo’s ‘open door’ policy was likely to need an amendment.
Scott, for his part, was doing a particularly excellent impression of a guppy.
“What is it?” Storm asked, not bothering to address her rendezvous with Logan. “Is Jean alright?”
Cyclops, for once, seemed without words. Ororo wrapped the sheet more fully around her body, sliding from the bed to face her friend. Scott’s eyes met hers through a ruby-red haze, the twist of his mouth disapproving. Ororo reached out to touch his hand, surprised to hear a low, predatory growl from the man behind her. Her longtime friend looked past her, to the man currently warning him away, his mouth in a firm, angry line.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the heavens, Ororo released Scott’s hand. Logan immediately stopped growling.
“Scott.” The woman said sharply, drawing his attention back to her. “Where. Is. Jean.”
“She used Cerebro.” Scott’s voice was flat, almost unfriendly. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.”
Hearing that Logan was already moving, apparently unabashed about his nakedness, Ororo nodded.
“We’ll be along shortly.”
“War Room,” the X-Men leader said sharply. “I’ve got Pete handling the kids.”
“Alright.”
Without another word, Scott turned on his heel. Ororo quietly closed the door behind him, staring at the door for a long, tense moment. Scott had never been so angry with her, not in all her time as his companion. She knew he wasn’t Logan’s biggest fan, but surely that did not mean she was…
“Hey.” It was Logan’s soft tone and entreating hand to her back that turned her. “Come back.”
Storm followed the invitation of his embrace, looking up at the man whom had turned her family on its head and wormed his way into her heart.
“Come back, darlin’.” Logan repeated, his rough hand cupping her cheek. “He doesn’t like me. That’s all. It ain’t you.”
How did he…
“It’s all over your face, ‘Ro.” The man insisted at the questioning raise of her brow. “Just get dressed. We have work to do.”
He turned away, dressing quickly. Ororo stretched her mind out, finding Jean.
Don’t worry. I’ll simmer him down.
Jean.
Just hurry. I know where Magneto is.
***
The tension was thick enough to walk on.
As Wolverine and the X-Men filed into the War Room, Jean kept her face purposefully passive. Scott had already raged at her when he returned from locating Storm, only to find their friend was occupying their new ally. Jean soothed her fiancé as well as she could, reminding him that Storm was a grown woman.
He had told her on no uncertain terms that he wasn’t happy. Jean responded that he was being infantile. The entire thing was hilarious to the red-haired telepath, but she chose to keep herself out of the situation.
Judging from the way Ororo was projecting feelings of easy contentment, Jean was going to come down firmly on her best friend’s side. Scott could be overprotective to a fault, it was in his nature. His distrust of the Wolverine was coloring all of his vision.
“Are you alright?”
Ororo moved immediately to Jean, leaving Wolverine to stare at the War Room in awe. She knew it was a lot to take in with its advanced technology and sterile steel walls. He offered her a brief nod before moving to stand opposite Cyclops.
“I’m fine.” Jean assured her friend. “Rogue wasn’t hard to find, actually.”
“We have a plan.” Scott broke in quickly. He manipulated the controls on their holo-map located at the center of the room, bringing up the image of Liberty Island.
Storm moved away, though she chose not to immediately rush to Logan’s side. Jean was grateful for that small amount of decorum, Scott was already inventing swear words in their private mental link.
“Any change in the Professor?”
Logan’s quiet question startled them all. Scott looked up, the hard edge to his jaw softening. No matter the drama, Jean thought, Scott respected anyone who respected their leader. Logan asking after Charles had an olive branch, even if he didn’t know it.
“Not yet.”
The two men shared a curt nod over the table before Scott began.
`“Magneto is here. Liberty Island. Now, presumably, his objective is to mutate the world leaders at the UN Summit on Ellis Island.”
Storm crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the metallic images of the New York coastline seriously.
“He doesn’t know his machine kills,” the African woman chimed in seriously. “And judging from what the Professor saw, if he gave Rogue enough power-“
Jean cut her off, adding effortlessly to the duet of familiar voices. “He could wipe out everyone in New York City.”
There was a heavy silence at that. The quartet of mutants stood around the table, looking at the small holographic image that represented a place on the verge of war. Jean felt the niggling of fear in her heart, wondering if they were ready for this.
Storm and Cyclops and Jean had taken a few little missions, mostly finding wayward children to add to Charles’ ever-expanding flock. This was no simple job, though. At this point, their friend was turned enemy and their mettle in battle would be tested.
Had Charles prepared them for this?
It didn’t seem fair that he would miss this. Oh, Jean knew he would find his way back. Would they be able to tell him good news or bad? What if something happened to one of them in battle? Jean worried her bottom lip between her teeth, a habit that she’d not quite broken as she reached adulthood.
“We can insert here at the George Washington Bridge, come around the bank, just off of Manhattan. We land on the far side of Liberty Island, here.”
With careful motions on the holo-map controls, Scott shared his plan of attack with the group. Jean had to admit, her fiancé had a flair for strategy. From the grudging look on Logan’s face “ not to mention the pride on Ororo’s “ her companions agreed.
“What about harbor patrol?” Wolverine chimed in, though without the bite in his tone that would belie one-upmanship. “Radar?”
Well, Jean thought, the feral Wolverine was meticulous. She hadn’t expected that. She thought of him as a creature of instinct, of gut feelings. From the look in his eyes, though, Logan was calculating, assessing, gauging.
Scott’s smile was one of real amusement.
“If they have anything that can pick up our jet, they deserve to catch us.”
“When do we leave?” Storm cut in smoothly.
“Five minutes.” Cyclops replied with command in his tone that sent pleasant little shivers up Jean’s spine. It was very sexy when he did things like that.
“Suit up.”
***
As he moved out of the changing room, Logan did a habitual sniff of the surrounding area. Jean had already gone on to the jet that was somewhere below the mansion. Logan was starting to reassess how big the damn place was.
They hid a jet under the house? Seriously?
His sensitive nose brought him that familiar scent of flowers and damp earth. With a smirk meant only for himself, Logan realized the flavor that reminded him of their resident weather goddess was clinging to his skin.
Even a quick post-sex shower hadn’t removed the stamp on him place on him by that woman.
Did he want it to?
Thinking back to their stolen hours in her room, Logan found himself distracted. There was something about Ororo Munroe that was just damn distracting. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, even in the War Room discussing a plan of attack.
The upcoming battle gave him a secondary pause. Ororo and Jean had both admitted they were not seasoned warriors. In fact, if he recalled the conversation with Jean correctly “ which was hard since he’d been staring at Storm arguing with Cyclops at the time “ they hadn’t done anything rougher than battling Sabertooth to get Logan and Rogue out of Canada.
Did they know what they were walking into? Death. Destruction. The gritty underbelly of humanity. The very idea that Storm would be in there, wading in blood with a battle cry on her lips was amusing on the one hand.
On the other, he didn’t want to see blood on her hands. She was too pure, too good for that. Logan couldn't even see how he dared touch something so unattainable. He had touched her, and she touched him, in ways he wasn't even ready to understand.
If he spent any more time dwelling on it, he was likely to end up in a heap of trouble he didn't need.
“Hey.”
Turning, Logan let himself smile. They were alone, without Jean’s amused green gaze and the ruby anger of Scott. He reached for her out of reflex, wanting contact and afraid of why he needed it. Without thinking, he tightened his grip on her hand, hating the idea of her going off to battle like a good soldier.
She wasn't a soldier. She was a goddess.
“You should stay here.”
Ororo’s dark brow creased with confusion. Logan hadn’t even meant to say it, but now that the words were in the ether, he couldn’t take them back. Hell, Logan wasn’t even sure he wanted to.
“Logan, you can’t do this alone.”
Unable to help it, Logan smirked.
“You’re starting to repeat yourself, darlin’.”
Storm tried to hide her smile under a stern gaze. It collapsed about three seconds into the attempt, though, leaving her to chuckle softly at Logan’s expense.
“We’ll be fine.” Storm insisted. “You’re with us, right?”
“That’s not the point.” Logan continued, resisting her charms as well as he could. “’Ro, this is gonna get heavy fast. Magneto isn’t an easy mark. You should stay here. It’s safer here, with the Professor.”
A beat after the words left his mouth, Logan knew he’d overstepped. Ororo’s eyes rimmed with frost, giving the mutant a fierce, wild look. The determination that crossed her beautiful features was something he really didn’t think he wanted pointed in his general direction.
Ozone tinged the air, bringing the fine hairs on the back of his neck to full attention. Logan remembered her powers in that moment and dimly wondered if adamantium conducted lightning.
“I am a member of this team and I am increasingly annoyed with the males in this house thinking they can tell me what to do.”
“Storm…” He tried to interject and backpedal before he got a lightning bolt shoved up his ass. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No?” Her tone was as icy as the ring around her irises. “Do you think that sleeping with me indicates some sort of power over me?”
“Hey,” he defended, unsure of how they’d got to this particular place so quickly. “That’s below the belt.”
“So is telling me to sit home and mind the children because of X-chromosome.”
“That’s not what I meant.” His voice rose with irritation. “You haven’t seen this before, you haven’t seen what people are capable of.”
The woman before him took a step back, her gaze returning to the warm, chocolate hue he was used to. There was sadness there, and a hint of surprise. Logan felt her take an invisible step back from him, giving the Wolverine the urge to reach out and bring her back.
“I forgot.” Storm said, almost to herself. “You don’t know me.”
“Ororo.”
But she turned on her heel, moving toward the automatic doors that presumably lead to the jet. Logan ran a frustrated hand through his hair, turning away from Storm’s retreating back.
Was she wrong? No, not really. They had known one another a whooping three damn days. In that time, they explored attraction and played with lust, but did he know her?
“She’s right.”
Looking up, Wolverine snarled. Cyclops had appeared at some point, sneaking into a situation that had nothing to do with him. The X-Men’s leader was in his uniform, his half-covered face a mask of barely-concealed irritation.
“You don’t know shit.”
“You don’t know her.” Scott shot back. “And you won’t. You’ll be gone before her sheets are cold.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“She’s more than you can handle, Wolverine.” The Boy Scout said without hesitation. “So follow me to the jet, do your job, and let her go.”
As the other man passed, Logan released the growl that had been building in his throat since he laid eyes on Cyclops. Scott didn’t even offer a glance in Wolverine’s direction before he followed Storm toward the waiting jet.
Logan stood in the center of the room, wondering if he should even bother following them.
Rogue.
The thought of her name, the image of her crying face burrowed into his shoulder was enough. Logan steeled himself and moved through the automatic doors.
His problem with Storm would have to wait.
