He still could not believe he had stayed here. Here being a school for geeks no less, The Xavier Institute for gifted Children. Of course it was just a guise for what lay beneath its fundamental foundations, but wasn't that always the case. It served as a cover for the team he now found himself attached to of all things, a hodge podge collection of mutants known as the X-Men. Led by a wheelchair bound, follicle challenged, egg headed mindfucker.

As he puffed on a cigar, his foot perched on the patio railing, forearm resting on his knee, he looked out upon the immaculately kept lawn. Though it saw heavy traffic from its many students and residents no wear showed nor sporadic litter marred its beauty. His eyes followed the view of a large hedge maze to the many botanical gardens that broke the monotony of endless well groomed grass. A large outdoor pool and tennis court came into view next followed by a double-sided basketball court and ending with the beginnings of a hidden running path at the treeline, thanks to his enhanced vision seeing beyond the dense woods.

He 'humphed' at the renewed idea that he lived here. Had taken up and fought for the ideal of the head geeks dream and the insane reality that he had actually put down roots. Not to say that he didn't take time for himself whenever the mood hit him, just not so often anymore.

Hell the place had its perks beyond its obvious creature comforts of almost anything one could ask for by the way of monetary purchase, it housed two of the hottest women he had ever seen. One fiery hot and willing. One cold as ice and impenetrable.

The hot and willing one supposedly belonged to their dick of a team leader, but he had already had the chance on more than one occasion to pound her pliable form into the mattress. Thanks to his talents in the bedroom he was sure he could do it anytime he wanted despite her outward confessions of love for the red lens wearing nerd. She had been good, but too easily conquered. He needed more than that. She was a girl woman, bending too easily to his every whim.

Now what had caught his eye and held it was the aloof, quiet princess of the mansion. Long white hair, copper skin, blue eyes and a body so ripe and dangerously curvaceous, he was sure would be heaven to hold. Hell, maybe he was just fooling himself, she definitely made it clear, you might can look, but don't touch. Yes he had heard she had harbored a little crush on him when he first arrived, but he had been too occupied chasing the redhead, mostly to piss off her stiff necked prick of a boyfriend. Now he was left longing for what he knew he could probably never have. But there was still no harm in looking and using her for fantasy fodder. Which he had...often.

He shook his head to clear it. Maybe he had been here too long, succumbing to the entrapment of a luxurious life, even if the price was the constant fight for an unattainable dream. Not to mention the easy piece of tail at his disposal. Still he would love to melt the ice wench whose affection for him had surely waned by now. Yet?.

"Logan. Logan.", a soft voice interrupted his musings. The very same one that moaned his name in his inner most thoughts, while he rode out his pleasure.

He turned his head slowly to face the object of his want, only to be held in a cold blue questionable gaze.

"Yeah.", his only dry reply.

"Are you alright Logan? I have been calling you for the last couple of minutes and you seem to have been a million miles away.", she said, searching his eyes and face for an answer to his unusual state of being caught unaware.

"If I weren't alright, would ya really want to know it darlin, or was that just some egg headed nosiness on yer part?"

Taken aback by his insufferable lack of consideration and manners, Ororo quickly called on her ice queen persona and called his arrogance to account. "Doesn't matter one way or the other Wolverine, you have a healing factor, get over it. And if your aging has affected your hearing I would suggest a visit to the med-lab to have it checked. In the meantime your presence is required in the Danger Room. You are late for scheduled training with the team." Having said all she needed to say, she turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving him to watch the provocative sway of her beautiful ass.

'Way to go Canuck, that's a sure fire way to warm a coldhearted bitch.'

With an easy flick of his fingers he tossed the rest of his cigar onto the lawn. There,...it needed a little something, he decided to add more later, as he turned and followed the icy trail of wind left by Storm.

If a hot piece of ass had made him stay, maybe a cold pussy could help him decide with his other head to move on. And from the looks of things the weather was definitely frosty down south, only question being, did he want to dress for the weather or brave the storm.

Honestly! Who does he think he is! Ororo's heels clicked a staccato beat as she made her way down the hall, further and further away from Logan's hot gaze. Manners of a Neanderthal, attitude of a prick! she thought vehemently.

Woah there, who lit you on fire?

Ororo doesn't even flinch, long used to Jean's habit of casually starting up telepathinc conveersation. Who else? I do not think I've ever met anyone who could set me off as easily as he does, Jean.

Jean's answering laughter was sweet and full of youthful amusement, Ororo can't help but smile a little bit along with her. She felt some of her anger drain away. Yeah, Logan's got a pretty special personality, doesn't he?

That's certainly a very generous way of putting things. Ororo sniffed, folding her arms and rolling her eyes, an uncharacteristic action that only Logan could seem to draw from her. I just hate how he makes me lose-- lose control! And as Jean, as well as anyone else who knew her, Storm's very life was built on control - which made interacting with Logan, unmannered, uncouth brute that he was, especially challenging.

Ororo was startled to hear Jean's sigh of sympathy in stereo. She turned - only marginally surprised to see her best friend standing some yards away, at the end of the corridor Ororo stood in. She was still in her lab coat and wearing her stylishly framed reading glasses; clearly she came directly from the sub-level labs.

Ororo can't help but smile. No matter where in the mansion the two of them were, they always managed to find their way to each other when the other needed it.

"You know, no one's ever gotten under your skin this badly," Jean stepped towards Ororo, taking her glasses off and leaving them to perch on top of her artfully messy bun of red hair. "You sure there isn't... something else going on there?"

The look Ororo gave her was affronted, and almost insulted. "Jean," she began patiently, "If I ever begin to feel even the slightest attraction towards misogynistic, unmannered men with a poor concept of hygiene, you will be the first to know, all right?"

"He's not that bad..." Jean protested.

"I'm sorry, Jean, but not everyone finds Logan sinfully attractive," Ororo said, waving a dismissive hand in her direction. ... Well, all right, that was a little bit of a lie; perhaps she did find him attractive on a purely basal level. But as far as she was concerned, the attraction stopped at the physical. And surely it was a sin for someone so terrible in personality to look so, well, good...

"Sinfully attractive, huh?" Jean links arms with Ororo laughingly. "Your words, not mine~!" They start down the hall, and Ororo briefly wonders just where Jean was steering her. It was just before noon - but the kitchens were in the opposite direction...

Jean answers her thoughts for her. "Oh, no. There is no way we're staying in the mansion today. If anything, this thing with Logan just proves that you need to get out, Ororo."

"Jean, I have a remedial French class to oversee this afternoon."

"We'll be back in time, I promise."

"And the Danger Room simulation--"

"Is under Scott's watchful eye," Jean paused. "No pun intended."

Ororo frowned. "Jean, as second in command, I don't think I can in good conscience leave Scott and Logan in the same room, much less the Danger Room, for more than five minutes."

"They'll be fine, they're big boys - even if they don't act like it too often." At Ororo's persistent, unconvicned frown, Jean sighed. "Come on,it's a Saturday! When was the last time we got to spend some girl time together on a Saturday?"

That gave Ororo reason to pause and think, but not enough time to answer. Jean had beamed, and barreled on: "See, we're overdue. So here's what we're gonna do; we're gonna get dressed up, head into town and have some lunch at that cute little bistro that opened on 5th and Main. What we are not going to do is talk about lesson plans, X-Men affairs or brutish, sinfully attractive men with poor hygiene. And maybe we can stop by Macy's if we've got time...."

Ahh, so that's what this is about. Ororo chuckles. Jean's look of utter innocence wasn't enough to deter her; she knew better. "No, no. I am perfectly aware of the dinner that you and Scott have planned for next Friday. You just want something new and pretty to wear."

"I don't know what you are talking about." says Jean airily, smiling mischievously. "Also, I don't trust anyone but you when it comes to color coordinating, and I need an outfit that'll go well with the coat Sarah sent me last month."

"All right, all right." Somehow Jean has steered the two of them right into the teachers' wing. Ororo finds herself suddenly standing before her own room. "... But you must tell the Professor, and Scott that we are stepping out. All right?"

Jean was already halfway through her doorway. "Already done!" She called back, tapping the side of her temple with a careless hand. "Meet you at the garage in ten minutes, okay? Dress to kill!"

---

Downstairs, Charles sat in the Observation Deck overlooking the Danger Room. Below him, lasers screamed and spinning serrated blades of steel whirred through the air. Three figures ducked and leapt through the cacophony of noise and debris - one with precise, measured jumps, blasts of scarlet energy pulsing from his eyes, another with gleaming metal skin, lumbering through most of the obstacles with an inhuman endurance, and a third with shining metal claws protruding from his fists, leaping over the objects with the ferocity and coordination of a panther.

Charles Xavier sat before the Danger Room console, observing the simulation closely. Cyclops, Colossus and Wolverine were all making good time, but it was nothing record setting. He tracked the way his X-Men moved through the course, pinpointing areas needing improvement and noting them down on the tablet that sat on the counter.

Professor? Jean's voice in his mind was lilting, almost musical, and came into his mind like a whisper. Psychic projection was a difficult skill to master, but one that a telepath of Jean's caliber no longer had no trouble with. He smiled proudly.

Can I help you, Jean? he replied easily, one hand rising to rest on his temple. His free hand continued to make notes on the team's progress below.

I know you asked if Storm and I could spare some time to come down to the Danger Room session, she began sheepishly, but it looks like a no.

He chuckled, already detecting vague echoes of what Jean's next words were to be. No? And why is that?

Well, in the interest of making sure that today's forecast for sunny skies stays accurate, Ororo might need the afternoon off.

He grew concerned. Is she all right?

Oh, she's fine! Jean rushed to reassure the Professor. She needs a change of scenery, I think. She hasn't stepped out of the mansion for something that wasn't a mission in a while. You can spare us, can't you Professor?

Below him, the obstacle course was coming to an end. Charles watched as Cyclops took care of blasting away the last remnants of projectiles that kept them from reaching their goal and Colossus lept up to grab the flag at the end of their course. Wolverine, on the other hand, seemed to be elsewhere; he always tore into his opponents with more single-minded ferocity than any of his teammates could hope to achieve, but he seemed especially fierce today. As if he needed to work off more anger than usual.

... We're about done here, Jean. He replied, finally, as Colossus finished the scenario. Cyclops clapped his younger teammate on the shoulder, then proceeded to barrage Wolverine with questions that the latter threatened to answer with his claws. Make sure Ororo has a good time, yes?

Oh, definitely! We'll be back before dinner, Professor. See you later!

Charles felt Jean ease herself from his mind carefully as he prepared to deal with the men below. He'd hoped to have the women's soft touch to help in dealing with them, but he wouldn't in good conscience deny Ororo a much-needed day off. Not when she so rarely asked for one, herself.

Still, he thought as Logan waved one menacing claw in Scott's face, when she is the only one capable of calming a certain Wolverine down, one can't deny that her presence would be of extreme value right about now...

---

"So," Jean walked in step with Ororo, peering at shop windows that displayed upcoming fall fashion. Her arms were already laden with bags of choice outfits bought from stores they'd passed previously. "I know I said we wouldn't talk about Log-"

"Jean," Ororo's voice took on a warning note, though she smiled a little. Her mood was much improved since earlier that morning; she had a few bags of her own already - she hadn't been able to resist getting a new pair of pumps, or the soft, pashmina wrap that had been begging to be taken home with her. "Please. For the sake of my blood pressure."

"Okay, okay, fine. Geez." Jean rolled her eyes, grinning herself. "All right, then. Looks like we're all done here, and the bistro's right around the corner."

"Oh, thank Goddess," Ororo mocked a dramatic sigh. "I did not think we would ever make it."

"Ha, ha. Very funny, 'Ro." Jean adjusted the bags in her arms. "I've heard their minstrel soup is to die for, though. No diets!"

"Jean, when have you ever known me to diet?"

"Never; I was talking about myself." They grinned at each other, banter passing from one to the other easily.

Ororo treasured these moments, having grown up on the streets of Morocco,she never had the chance to be silly and girly about shopping or eating in dainty little cafes. Her teenage memories had her picking pockets and making sure what money she got was stretched for as many days as she could make it. Here with Jean, she could replace those memories with better ones.

Ororo was so lost in her thoughts and in fixing the parcels in her arms that she hadn't been paying attention where she'd been going when she turned the corner. She heard Jean's mental warning a second too late as bumped rather unceremoniously into something firm. Before she could react, an arm shot out to keep her from toppling over.

"Oh, my apologies," She managed, startled. The hand that steadied her firmed gently, helping her regain her footing. Thank goodness for the kitten heels she was wearing, she thought vaguely, as she turned her head up to meet concerned blue eyes. "I... oh."

Ororo was tall, but this man was taller, broad shouldered and built like a... like a -

Built like a god! gasped Jean, in her mind. No wonder you almost fell over. This guy's huge! ... and cut!

"Are you all right, fair maiden?" He asked, (with a thunderous voice, added Jean dreamily. Jean, stop narrating things in your mind.) Ororo could see concern turning into curiosity between the stray locks of flaxen blonde hair that fell over his eyes.

'Fair maiden'? Is he being serious, Ororo wondered.

"I... Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." She finally replied, managing to find her grace and dignity. She straightened to her full height and met his eyes more confidently. "I'm sorry, that was careless of me."

"Nay, the fault was mine." He said sincerely. "Mine thoughts were elsewhere; had I been paying attention..."

"It's no trouble," She reassured the man, smiling unable to find it within herself to be even the slightest bit irritated with him. Not when he was being so solicitous. "No harm done, I assure you."

"Then I am glad," He beamed. Behind her, Ororo swore Jean swooned a little. She could hardly blame her; this man's smile seemed to make the sun shine brighter. Or perhaps, she thought, wondering why her heart had skipped a beat, that might be because of me.