AUTHOR'S NOTE: ANYTHING in this story that's recognizable belongs to the companies and/or the people who own them, especially Marvel.
__________________________________________________________

The lake was a favorite spot for many, allowing for private time even if another person was in or near the waters. Dropping down on a log and lighting a cigar he’d been working his way through, he found the silence... Unwanted. He could think, and that was a dangerous thing. Whenever Logan became too quiet, everyone knew it was a bad thing, and recently, silence became another defining characteristic of the Wolverine. God, how he hated the title sometimes. He couldn’t have a regular fucking emotion without someone questioning it. Not that anyone did. It seemed everyone in the X Mansion knew why he’d become depressed.

Married. He never stood a chance, and he accepted that once he saw the rock Scooter put on her finger. He was many things, but he wasn’t about to step on another man’s territory when the woman made her choice loud and proud. The message was clear: Jeanie was marrying Scott. He stopped trying after that, there was no point. She was never meant to be his, solitude was a characteristic he was known for, after all.

But, Christ, if the damn thing didn’t bother him. Logan could make a woman happy, he knew it. Shaking his head, he wished for another life. One where he wasn’t so... him. He couldn’t be Scooter, but he wouldn’t mind trading up a little. Why did he have to be branded the bad boy? He wasn’t the greatest guy, but he wasn’t a fucking Sabretooth. But nobody noticed that. Nobody other than Jean.

She gave him a chance nobody ever gave him. She accepted him like she had everyone else, with a warm smile. Matter of fact, she was the first warm smile he’d seen in a long time, something he knew for a fact. But that was a problem. The same smile she gave him was shared with plenty others, from Kitty to Furball; he wasn’t special. The smile she gave Scott, that was the one he wanted. He wanted her to look at him with that... love. That was all. He wanted someone to love him. He wanted to be picked. To not be so lonely.

Vanilla, sandalwood, and rain filled the air, and Logan knew he wasn’t alone. He plucked his cigar from his mouth, snubbing it on his hand. Ororo hated the smell of smoking, finding it low. Just like how she saw him. A scowl became pronounced on his face; he didn’t have time for her diatribe. He rose to his feet, then paused. She was smiling at him.

“Oh, I apologize. I had no idea you would be out here,” she said, her voice soft. “I came out here to think, but I won’t intrude on your personal time.” She stepped back, her white hair softly fluttering in the new breeze. Her doing, he guessed.

Logan shrugged. “Plenty of space out here, no point in hogging it all to myself,” he responded, his voice flat. She wouldn’t be a bother, not really. He was done thinking, anyway.

Her tiny smile grew wider, and Ororo approached him. She paused, then pointed to his cigar. “Would you like a light?” she offered. She laughed at his expression, causing him to scowl in retribution. Ororo moved forward, shaking her head, moving her long, white locks. “Despite what you may think, I have no real problems with your smoking. It’s when you do it inside the school do I complain.” He placed the chewed piece back in his mouth, then leaned towards her. Snapping her fingers, she channeled enough electricity to burn the end. It promptly began smoldering.

He puffed a few times, then scooted over on the rotting log he’d been perched on. Without thanking her, he raised a brow. “And when we’re on the jet?”

Ororo raised a mocking brow, “You don’t think it’s rude to smoke in confined spaces? What if I had asthma?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. Kitty I’d believe, but not you.”

An amused look crossed her brow. “Really? And why is that?” she asked, her tone light. She dropped down beside him, making sure to focus a breeze to blow the smoke away, but never strong enough to snub out his light.

Logan tipped his head. Huh, why did he refuse to believe she had asthma? It wasn’t like she lied or anything-- her scent never changed-- but it wasn’t believable. Ororo have asthma? It was like saying monkeys grew green fur; you didn’t have to see it to know it was a lie, and it was so laughably false there was no point in arguing it. So he didn’t. Instead, he asked a question. “What brings you out to the lake?”

Ororo smiled and placed her chin in her palm. She shrugged her dainty shoulders and looked over the lake. “I was looking for some solitude. It’s nice being in the mansion, but it often gets too crowded. I wished to clear my mind of... recent thoughts.”

Logan furrowed his brow. He had no idea what to make of that, but he knew better than to pry. Her plight was relatable, however. He’d come to the lake to be alone, and he got just that. Only... His thoughts caught up to him, and his head was swimming from their noise. “I’m sure they’ll go away,” he offered. Platitudes weren’t his thing, but she was being amicable. In a weird way, him being nice was thanks for her lighting his cigar and not bothering him.

Ororo chuckled, then faced him, her blue eyes twinkling. “Do you even believe that?”

Damn. She caught him on his bullshit. Logan smirked and looked back over the lake, but only for a second. He faced her gaze and shook his head. “Not really. But then again, my thoughts are probably darker than yours.”

Ororo matched his smirk. “Geez, Wolverine, do you always have to be involved in a pissing contest, or should I find my ruler?” she joked.

Logan grinned-- actually grinned. That was unexpected. Someone was full of surprises this evening. “I don’t usually start ‘em, but if there’s one going on...” he trailed off. Puffing his cigar, he cast an exaggerated glance to her lap and rolled his eyes. “I think I’ve beat you in length, darlin’.”

Ororo laughed, the husky sound making his mood lift. She calmed, crossed her arms under her ample chest and gave a mock glare. “How dare you! If I were a man, I bet mine would be just as impressive as yours.”

Logan waggled his eyebrows, chewing on his cigar. “Impressive, huh?”

Ororo gently shoved him, and refolded her arms. “Those jeans you wear are honestly too tight. I’d take you shopping, but you don’t seem like the type to enjoy such an outing.” Ororo looked back over the lake, a soft smile quickly becoming a permanent fixture on her face.

Logan wasn’t done ribbing her just quite yet. He was having way too much fun to take the bait she’d set for him. He nudged her arm, trying to get her attention. “And how long have you been looking at my ass, darlin’?”

Ororo’s eyes widened, her dark cheeks becoming slightly darker. Backing away, she placed her hands on her hips. “Logan!” she sputtered, “Must you be so crass?”

He snickered. “You started it. Like I said, I don’t always start ‘em, but if there’s one going on--”

“I did not start! I was merely stating a fact, something that cannot be misconstrued for anything of that sort. Goddess, Logan, you are too sexual in nature,” she sputtered, her cheeks becoming darker and darker by the second. She covered her face and groaned in frustration. “New topic! New topic!”

Logan chuckled, then puffed on his cigar, allowing them to lapse into silence. Who knew the Weather Witch could be so funny? But then again, she had the biggest fan club, right behind Wheels. Everyone in the mansion loved her, and he was beginning to see a little of why. The cold woman wasn’t actually cold! “Do ya like it?” he pressed, laughing at the responding squeal and head shake. “No? Then I’ll have to do more squats to impress you.” A strong breeze pushed him from the log, causing him to laugh harder. He patted the dirt from his shoulders and settled back beside her, slighter closer than before. “Fine, I’m done. No more jokes, though I do have some new information to consider.”

Ororo groaned and lifted her head, running her hand through her silvery mane. That blasted man, she thought. Ororo graced him with a smile, then faced the water. Once again, the silence fell upon them, and nothing about it felt awkward. If anything, it was nice to be around someone without having to talk. Talking without purpose, mindless chattering, and polite conversation were things Ororo and Logan frowned upon. Everything had to mean something, and it was a shame they had to engage in it so often. But out here? They could be quiet. Their thoughts could reign supreme with another presence.

“Ro?”

“Hm?” she responded, her thoughts becoming hazy. “Yes, Logan?”

“How’d you know I didn’t mean what I said? From earlier,” he clarified. It wasn’t necessary, she already knew.

Ororo shrugged, her eyes never straying from the sparkling water. “I dunno. You only said it for my benefit, and I... Well, I wasn’t really looking for a platitude, if anything at all. Besides, you are far deeper than common phrases.” She tipped her head, considering the dusky colors spanning the sky. Sunset was always so lovely.

Logan furrowed his brow. She thought he was deep? Nobody ever considered him deep, not even Jeannie. At best, people thought he was crazy. And hell, maybe he was. Whenever he spoke, nobody took credence in his words, with the exception of Marie and Charles. Everyone else considered it token advice, even Colossus, and he revered Wolverine. Maybe that was it. They considered Wolverine a value, but never Logan. Logan was the crazy one, Wolverine was the star.

A light hand on his arm broke him of his reverie. She nodded her head back towards the house. “It’s getting late, and the children are probably wondering where we are.”

He shook his head. “They’re wondering where you are.” He plucked his cigar from his mouth, bringing it to his palm. She sent a breeze to it before it could burn his hand. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ororo stood, then offered a dainty brown hand to him. He took it, not really needing help standing. He dwarfed her at his height, his bulky size making him even more intimidating, but he was never clunky on his feet. Ororo considered him agile. She walked towards the house, her long skirt whispered in the grass. “They do wonder, you just do not realize it.”

Logan shrugged, not really believing her. He knew Marie cared, and Jubilee did, too. Everyone else? Nah. They weren’t all Wolverine fans. The younger kids were plum scared of him. It was honestly kind of funny, seeing them pale when he scowled at them. Of course Charles reprimanded him for it, but something told him the old guy thought it was funny, too.

The second they stepped inside, Ororo was swept up in a cloud of young faces. They clamored for her, begging for her attention. And just like that, Logan was alone again.

It was the afternoon on a Saturday, and people were starting the countdown. Yeah, he was aware. There wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do to prove them otherwise, and staying was becoming irritating. He was surrounded by her memory, and soon enough, she’d come back from her honeymoon. Logan wanted to vomit at the thought of her and Scooter. That dick was probably pure vanilla in the sack. Logan knew his way around a woman.

He shuffled his feet in the yard, wandering to the lake. The forest was quickly becoming his haven, right after Harry’s and the cheap motel across the way. Maybe later he’d visit Harry’s, but for now, it was too early to start drinking at a bar, even for him. His stash of Molson would tide him over for now. The soft smell of rain filled his nostrils and he followed it.

A smile crossed his lips. Of course Ororo would be in her greenhouse. He had the danger room, she had the greenhouse. Huh. He’d never been inside the place. It wouldn’t kill him to just look, satisfy the quickly rising curiosity. Strolling inside, he looked around. This was different, he mused. Very unlike his expectations. It wasn’t flowery, more... Viney. The ground was covered in green ropes and brilliant petals. Ferns were rampant, and Logan raised a brow. What the hell? This was very unlike her. Or... Maybe it was? He knew so little about her.

She turned, then gasped. “Goddess, Logan! What’re you doing? What do you need?” she asked. Placing a hand to her chest, she calmed. “You mustn’t be so quiet!” Logan shrugged, not bothered by her annoyed actions. He walked around, taking in the odd plants. He touched one, lifting its leaf cautiously. She cleared her throat. “It is a Staghorn Fern, common to Africa. I believe they add to the atmosphere.”

Logan looked around, sticking his hands in his jean pockets. His eyes took in the lush greens, becoming more at peace with the environment. Yeah, they added to the environment; he approved. He touched several other plants, finding the white was meshing with purples and reds and yellows and blues. It was girly, but it wasn’t obnoxious. Matter of fact, it was kind of endearing. It was an insight he didn’t expect. “These?” he asked, touching a white flower.

“African Moons,” she said softly, removing her dirty gloves. “One of my favorites.” Logan made an appreciative noise. He recognized a few plants, but most he had absolutely no clue. They were pretty. Jean liked roses. Where were her roses? A sharp stab filled his chest and he heaved a sigh. “Something wrong?” she asked, her eyes whitening over. To the left of his head, a small raincloud formed, watering the nameless blue flowers.

He smirked. Apparently she found practical use of her powers, too. He used his claws to open bottles and cut boxes. He watched the water fall, admiring her control. He was maybe an inch away, but not a single drop touched him. There wasn’t even spray. “Nah, I just realized I’ve never seen your greenhouse.”

Ororo nodded. “Most have not. It’s... Special to me.” Logan suddenly felt like an intruder. He stepped back, ready to leave. “Don’t feel obligated to leave. Whenever someone comes to my greenhouse, it is because they need something.” Her eyes colored once more and she gave a soft smile. “How might I help you?”

Logan grunted, then shrugged. “ ‘M fine. Just about ta head to the lake.” Was that an invitation? No, just a statement of facts. He was headed to the lake, Ororo was in her greenhouse, and the weather was a warm eighty six degrees. It was sort of dry out, nothing she couldn’t fix though. He stepped away from the misty plants and strolled, still taking in the twisting green ropes. “Sorry ta have interrupted.”

Ororo raised a shoulder. “You’re not. I was just finishing up. I figured someone would need me soon enough. And I never stay long, if you hadn’t noticed. The kids always seem to find new ways to burn down the mansion.” She bent to dust her knees, removing the dirt accumulating on her worn jeans. She always wore these old things when she worked in her greenhouse.

Logan chuckled, amused. Boy, if that wasn’t true. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. They fought constantly trying to prove their power was the best. He was amazed he stuck around as long as he did; kids sucked. He had no desire to be a parent, but then again, that would mean he would have to find a broad to stick around. Girls married the good guys.

Ororo sensed his light mood darkening. She sighed, hating to see him so down. When she came to the greenhouse, she had full intentions of staying there for most of the day, well into the afternoon; it was one. Refusing to see him so troubled and bring down her light mood, Ororo thought fast. “Have you eaten?” He looked confused, but shook his head no, cautious. Shrugging, “You said you were headed to the lake. Would you mind if I joined you? I would enjoy a picnic lunch.”

Logan rubbed his head. “I guess not. I could eat. But I’m bringing beer.” Ororo dramatically rolled her eyes for his benefit. “What? It’s lunch,” he smirked.

She walked to him, placing a hand to his beefy shoulder. “Logan, I think you might be an alcoholic.”

His smirk grew. “So Marie tells me.” They walked back to the mansion, Ororo waving to several students. “Someone’s popular,” he ribbed.

“I can’t help that I’m well liked,” she simpered, tossing her silvery hair for added affect. She caught the smell of dirt and sweat, then shook her head, sticking her pink tongue out. “Ugh. I smell dreadful. Would you mind preparing lunch while I showered? I won’t be more than ten-- fifteen minutes.”

Logan rolled his shoulder. “Eh. Why not? And you don’t smell ‘dreadful,’ as you claim. You smell like you always do.” Damn, he slipped. He hadn't shared the tidbit of personal scents yet.

Ororo raised a brow. “I always smell like dirt and sweat?” she asked, her voice half self-conscious.

He cleared his throat, opening the door for her. It wasn’t like he had any problems with his mutation, but some of his more animalistic qualities... Unnerved people. Hell, at times, he was bothered by what he could do. What he kept locked away.

She could sense his nervousness. There would be time later for finding out his full mutation, but now was time for a shower. The fact that she smelled like dirt and sweat was not something she enjoyed, no matter how much she enjoyed the getting muddy and gross. “I am a vegetarian, Logan. Please--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got it.” She narrowed her eyes, then stumbled. A pair of adamantium laced hands pushed her towards the stairs. “Shower. Ya smell dreadful.”

“That is not funny, Logan!” she bit.

He sauntered to the kitchen, totally unfazed. “Yes, it actually kinda is.” He listened for her footsteps, then listened to the water run. He cracked his knuckles, causing the few kids in the kitchen to grate their teeth. No one ever liked the sound of metal scraping metal, but it was damned funny to watch their faces. His happy faced twisted, preparing his menacing scowl for the crumb snatchers. They cleared immediately, taking their plates with them.

He smelled him before he saw him, and Logan nearly groaned. He did not need Bobby pestering him for any girly crap. And it was girly. The kid couldn’t figure how to put the moves on Kitty, not that Logan would let him. The fucker moved from Marie to Kitty in no time flat; not that he had anything against Kitty, he was just pissed it broke Rouge’s heart. It took everything in him to not knock him around for that one. “Hey, Logan. You making lunch? Is that lettuce? You making a sandwich. I just ate, but I wouldn’t mind--”

“Slow yer roll, bub. This ain’t fer you, and you already ate. You trying to get fat?” he growled, grabbing a knife, chopping up the lettuce. He quickly moved onto the tomatoes, cucumbers followed.

Bobby watched, fascinated. He admired Logan, wanting to master that gruff smoothness he had. Women just loved him, and Bobby wanted that. Plus, he didn’t give a crap about anyone’s opinion, and that was an accomplishment in its own right. Whoever said they didn’t care about anyone’s opinion was a liar. Someone’s always mattered. After all, who would you have to impress? Bobby used to think it was Dr. Grey for Logan, but those were idle thoughts at this point. She was Mrs. Summers now. “Not fat, just bigger. Anyways, I thought I heard Storm. Is she around? I needed to ask her something.”

Logan almost smiled, recalling her words from earlier. Someone would need me soon enough. How the woman ever managed to escape the constant badgering, he had no idea. But she was dedicated to the school, that much he knew. It couldn’t possibly bother her. She liked the kids and she liked helping, it only made sense she was so dedicated. End of story. “Ya did, but she’s in the shower.”

“Where? Do you know when she’ll be out?”

What the...? “What could be so damn important, Bobby? The woman is showering,” he growled, slamming his hands on the counter. Logan nearly cringed. If he cracked the granite, he’d be replacing it. “Come on, out with it.”

Bobby swallowed. “I... I just wanted to ask about the laundry schedules. Usually Mr. Summers assigns it, but ever since he left for his honeymoon, Ms. Munroe’s been assigning it. There was a conflict.” Whoops.

His mood switched, pissed became rabid. “Yer up in arms over the fucking laundry! Damn kid, is anyone washing now? Take yer shit down there and take the fucking initiative!” He threw his hands in the air, wanting to break something. Mainly Scott’s nose, but the bastard was on his honeymoon. He was taking it out on the wrong person, and the danger room could make clones... “Beat it,” he ordered, his voice low.

The lettuce was abandoned, and Ororo came from her shower, ready to eat.

It was 2:27. There was a muffled sound, but Ororo could tell a motorcycle engine from a mile away. She rose, ready to strike. Grabbing her silk robe-- a present from Charles-- she stormed down the stairs, the pun not funny at the moment. She ended up at the garage, ready to set the big bad wolf in his place. Poor Robert, he was so put out. He didn’t deserve that.

When Ororo arrived at the kitchen, she found chopped lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers, sliced bread-- now stale-- and mustard. Whatever he’d been planning had been left out, and she was confused. She put the food away, trying to figure out what caused him to change his goals so abruptly. She wandered to his room, expecting to find him there, when she heard sniffling. Tentatively opening the door, she found a very confused and nervous Bobby, gathering his clothes for washing. She questioned him, then calmed him when she heard what happened.

Ready to scream at Wolverine, Professor called her into his office. Jean called while she was in the shower, and Ororo knew. She’d been updated telepathically. That wasn’t the only reason she was called to his office. Charles, wanting to give Logan time to cool down, ordered her to leave him. And she would, but Charles never said anything about when Wolverine came back.

Protective over the children she thought of as her kids, Logan was about to eat major crow. He hurt Bobby over something stupid, something he was aware of for months. Ororo felt bad for him, really, she did. She understood the loneliness, but he was not about to take his problems out on anyone else. He was an adult, and it was time he started acting like one.

Folding her arms to her chest, she tapped her foot. It was never good to be on the bad side of Ororo’s ire, the adverse effect was deadly. The heavens rolled, thundering mirroring her dark mood. He pulled in, taking his helmet off and shaking his head. His wolfish peaks returned, and he spotted her. Rolling his eyes, he greeted her. “Wanna put a lid on that? It makes for dangerous travel.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Was that a goodbye?”

He cut the ignition. He rose to his full height, unimpressed with her. “Could be,” Logan retorted.

Ororo hated how cryptic he was. “Then before you go, make sure you apologize to Robert. He didn’t deserve your tirade.”

That’s what she was so pissed about. “Yeah, sure. Great talking to you, Storm.” He pushed on; he didn’t need this shit. Not now.

Ororo scoffed. “So this is it, huh? You’re leaving.”

“I thought we established that.” He kept walking, he needed to grab his duffle, say goodbye to Marie. He could always reach Chuck, have him forward his apology to Bobby. Logan threw his door open, the smell of rain filling the air. Thunder boomed outside, making his windows shake. Fine, let her ruin the weather, it matched his mood well enough. He tugged a drawer open, pulling some shirts out.

Ororo stood in the doorway. Wow, she scoffed. She closed the door, if she was going to yell, she didn’t want the kids nearby hearing her. They could sleep through the storm. “You know, Wolverine, I’m impressed. You stuck around much longer than I originally anticipated. A week and two days! I should alert the media.” Ororo leaned against his door, mocking his relaxed stance. “I’m not sure if it’s an improvement, though. For you, it’s probably an issue. Right?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Is that supposed to bother me?”

“It should,” she hissed. Ororo shrugged, approaching him. “That’s your problem. You care too much about things you shouldn’t, and don’t bother with the things that should.”

“And my sticking around,” he shrugged, folding the shirts, “that should?”

Ororo gave a hollow laugh. “Yes!” Was he really that dense? “People here care about you, but that doesn’t matter. Not enough at least, right? Because she’s not here? And when she returns? What will you do?”

Damn. She had a point. Logan had no idea what to consider the mansion, but it was stable. He could always return, giving him stability. Or enough stability that he could keep pushing forward. “I don’t fucking know, Storm. I just need to get away.” He didn’t mention he just wanted to bide time.

“That’s your problem, Logan! You run, but has running ever once solved anything for you?” she shouted.

“It works for me,” he snarled. “Besides, what do you care? It ain’t your problem! Yer life is fucking perfect all the goddamned time, and it’s pissing me off. Everything is pissing me off!” He leaned forward, baring his fangs and trapping her against the dresser. “Consider it getting some air. It’s stale here, what with you freezing the environment faster than Popsicle or Scooter.” He saw Ororo stiffen, as if he hurt her. Good! “Yeah, that’s right. You put on a good show earlier, but I’m on to you! You got everyone fooled, but I know you’re a frigid bitch,” he spat. “What do you care if I leave? It ain’t like you’ll be missing me.”

Ororo shook her head. “No, it doesn’t,” she mumbled. He furrowed his brows, confused. “You think being in a new environment with new faces who don’t know you will take it away. And it does, but only after the thoughts get so loud you can’t focus on anything but the pain, the acute loneliness,” she whispered, locking her blue eyes on his. “But it doesn’t fix anything. It just... numbs everything. And it isn’t the environment making it go away, it’s you. The pain becomes so overwhelming that you just stop feeling it. And for a while, it’s okay. Not feeling anything. It’s what you wanted, right? The nothingness.” Ororo shook her head.

He slowly released her arms. It dawned on him that he’d been holding her just above the ground, his grip increasing on her tiny arms. He stepped away from her, his chest heaving from the exertion. This was becoming too fucking weird. Each word cut, making his heart heavy in his metal chest. Showing her his back, he continued folding, ignoring her presence. The thundering ceased. It was just rain now, heavy and steady.

Ororo rubbed her arm. She’d be bruised in the morning, she knew, but she had to finish. It needed to be said. “It comes back, Logan. All of it. It doesn’t matter how long you run, it’ll come back.” Ororo began rubbing the other arm, returning the blood flow. “You are many things, but I never thought you to be a coward. It appears I thought wrong.” She gave him one last look, then turned. She opened the door. “Please give your apology in person before you leave. Robert stays up fairly late.”

Logan nodded, despite the fact he heard the door close. He huffed, then continued folding. If the rain slowed, he could be in Canada in an hour or two. Thundered boomed. Best make that three.
_________________________________________________________
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, yeah, another cliched Storm-makes-Logan-stay chapter, but whatevz. At any rate, this story is mostly done, I'm just trying to figure out how I want it to end.

// mean telepathic conversation
_________________________________________________________
Pulling her hair up in a high ponytail, Kitty licked her lips, excited to dig into the feast. Hank made waffles and pancakes, and Ororo helped make omelets, even offering to add meat to some. The kitchen filled up quickly, the happy voices drawing Professor from his office. Some kids swore he was a ghost, only appearing when a new student came. That always made him chuckle. Jubilee was the one to start the rumor, Kitty just spread it.

He wheeled beside Ororo, who at present was whisking eggs. “Let me, Ororo,” he offered.

Ororo sidestepped him. “Charles, you’re not allowed in the kitchen. Hank and I are treating everyone, but if you have a request for how you like your eggs, bacon, or waffles, I’m all ears.” She pressed a kiss to his bald head, making him chuckle. “Shoo! Henry, back me up,” she called.

Hank chuckled, bouncing to Charles. He made shooing motions, forcing his friend out. “The woman is right. I did not invite you to cook, just Ororo.” Once Ororo turned her back, he mouthed “sorry,” then quickly resumed cooking. He’d been finishing another batch of chocolate chip pancakes, and if he didn’t flip them now, they’d burn. These were special. These were for Ororo. As was the entire breakfast.

Last night, he awoke to a rather strange storm. He knew the cause, but not the reason. Until he received a call from Charles. Hank shook his head. That poor girl. Ororo cared about people to a fault, never giving up on anyone she loved. Everyone could be helped in her opinion. Hank agreed, but to a lesser extent. For help to work, they had to be open to it. Logan wasn’t open to anything other than a fist fight, beer, and women. Apparently Ororo wasn’t even a woman to the jerk. Blasted man, he sighed.

Finishing the pancakes, Hank moved Ororo to the table, seating her beside Charles. Hank gave her the plate, then pressed a kiss to the top of her snowy head. He settled beside her, and began to cut into his waffles, striking up a conversation with Charles and Ororo about current news, stiffly avoiding the topic of the weather. If he mentioned it, one of the kids would question it, and they’d all heard the screaming match between her and Wolverine. He knew, Charles informed him.

And speak of the devil. Clomping in sans shoes, Wolverine dragged his hand over his hairy chest; his wife beater didn’t really cover him. The kitchen hushed waiting for its showdown. They heard the brief shouting and matched the voices with the weather and motorcycle rolling in at one in the morning. The older kids attempted returning to normal conversation. It was awkward enough, no sense in dragging it out. Apparently, Logan felt the same way. “Any left fer me?” he groused.

Ororo gripped her knife so hard her knuckles went white. The hand on her shoulder kept her from losing control and ruining the day. She smiled at Charles, then bit into her still warm pancakes. “I always make extras in case someone wants them. Please, take a seat,” Hank offered, his voice civil. Inside, he wanted to... Oh, give the boy a firm talking to.

Logan grabbed a plate and cup from the cabinet and dropped into the empty seat in front of Blue Boy. He stacked some pancakes, then an omelet, several sausages-- not the tofu or turkey ones-- and a couple slices of bacon-- same deal. He filled his cup with the coffee he assumed was fresh and began eating, not bothering with good mornings. There was no real point.

Oh, wait.

“Popsicle,” he called, his eyes zoning in on the nervous boy.

“Uh, yeah?” Bobby began nervously.

“Sorry I bit yer head off yesterday.” He bit into his sausage, thinking of something else to say. His apology felt lacking. “You didn’t deserve it.” He took a swig of his coffee, then attacked his stack of pancakes.

Bobby glanced at Ororo, knowing with was her work. Looking down at his plate, he bit into a waffle. “Yeah...Thanks. Apology accepted.”

Ororo wiped her mouth, then picked her plate up. “If you all would excuse me,” she said. She stood, staring at Logan’s downcast head. “I’ve lost my appetite.” She pressed a kiss to Hank’s temple. “It was delicious, as expected.” Logan heard metal scraping glass, the thud of food dropping into a trashcan, and then feet going up stairs.

He never once looked up. Logan bit into his pancake. She was being emotional. He stuck around, hadn’t he? (Damn, these were good pancakes! Him and Blue Boy would have to compare notes. The omelet was good; he sprinkled pepper on top.) Everything she said to him yesterday was of little consequence. They weren’t really friends. Whatever he thought at the lake was gone in a flash. (There was some good pieces of ham in this.)

Nah, that was a lie. He was bothered. Yup, bothered. Storm... Ororo called him a coward. He was the motherfucking Wolverine!-- he feared no man. So why was he shaking in his boots over a fucking woman? Women! It was always a goddamned woman causing him problems! Logan huffed; he’d face her later when she cooled down. She was probably about to get her period. That was why she said all that shit yesterday. That was why she waited for him to return. Jeanie never waited for him to return, she just figured he would come back whenever. That’s what he liked--freedom to come and go. Ororo was too fucking concerned about every-fucking-thing. Yeah, he nodded, oblivious to how weird he looked nodding at the silence. It was her period. Had to be.

//You know full well that isn’t true, Logan.// Charles corrected, never giving away the fact he was telepathically speaking. Logan freaked like he always did. Having someone in his head was something he’d never get used to, it was too invasive. //I am not going past the surface of your mind, but I shall leave momentarily. I need to speak to you after breakfast, considering how you think it’s best to wait for Ororo to calm down.//

Logan narrowed his eyes, glaring at Charles. //Fine, but you leave my head.//

//Only if you promise to go.//

Logan scowled. //Fine.//

Charles smiled. “Pass me the ketchup?” he asked to no one in particular.


Breakfast concluded, and, as promised, Logan followed Charles into his room. The weather hadn’t changed, thankfully. Locking the door, Logan dropped to one of the leather couches across from his desk. Logan felt he was becoming too familiar with the layout of his office, and once again, he itched to tuck tail and run. Canada was nice this time of year, just before the cold winters set in. “What’s up, Chuck?” he joked.

“While I appreciate the humor, I wish to relay some important information.”

He shrugged. “Lay it on me.”

Charles moved his chair closer to Logan. Charles leaned back and smiled, the look nostalgic and private. “It’s an odd dynamic... Having to be outwardly cold and yet having such a warm heart. Jean is warm, and cares, yes, but she doesn’t love as deeply as Ororo. That’s why she came to you last night, because she loves Robert as if he were her own.” Charles tsked his tongue. “You two are so alike it’s frightening.”

Logan rolled her eyes. “Oh, please,” he snorted.

Charles waved his hand. “Oh, yes. If anyone ever hurt Rouge, Kitty, or Jubilee, I do believe you’d attempt to kill the offender. Ororo is much... No, exactly like that. But it isn’t simply that. You both are fiercely proud and annoyingly stubborn.” Logan’s brow nearly touched, more confused than he’d been yesterday. “She understands you better than you think, and maybe better than yourself. It is not my story to tell, but she knows what you’re going through. It would not be unwise to give your friendship a chance.”

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Logan rose to his bare feet. Christ almighty, did he regret not leaving. Each second in this house was making him crazy! The premise of going for just fresh air was starting to become more of a reason than clearing his head of the hold Jean had on him. “I’ll think about it.” With that, he rushed from the room and his smiling mentor.


Afternoon came smoothly, the sweltering heat from the morning oddly dipped down to eighty seven. There was speculation it was Ororo, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. To keep her hold on the elements, Ororo punched, kicked, and jabbed. Logan found solace in violence, and Ororo could understand why. She’d been attacking the punching bag, building up a vicious sweat and a major cramp in her arms. The bandages kept her knuckles from bleeding, but she could feel a bruise forming. Like the bruises on her arms. WHAP! Her fist landed against the sandbag twice. A roundhouse kick followed, might as well put her long legs to use. Dodge, dodge, dip, kick, a series of right hooks landed against the red wrapping.

Her body howled for rest and water. How long had she been down here? she wondered. Her anger had abated, and the only thing left were her thoughts. She was used to hearing she was an ice queen: that wasn’t the problem. No, Ororo worked through her dark times, but bringing them up always reopened the tiny wound. A little piece of Ororo would never be right, the piece that believed in true love and happily ever afters. Not for her, at least.

Her fist lit and crackled with electricity, and she punched the bag. It caught fire and burst, then fell to the ground. Ororo groaned, then leaned her head back, letting her eyes white over. She quickly put out the little fire; sand never burned much. Ugh, she groaned. She’d have to clean the mess and replace the bag. Hopefully Charles wouldn’t mind if she never told him...

Clapping broke her reverie. “I’ve busted a few of my own, but they never caught fire.”

Ororo stiffened, unconsciously touching her bruised right arm. “Wolverine,” she greeted tersely. Words were not meant to be wasted, she believed, but mincing had it’s place in the human conversation, in this conversation. She stalked to the opposite side of the gym and grabbed a broom and dustpan. It occurred to Ororo that she could make a whirlwind, gather the dust in that, and clean it that way, but that was an abuse of her power, and would never leave a good impression on the children. But then again, it was just her and him.

Logan was a man first. He was many things but always a man first. So when he spotted Ororo in those sinful little black workout shorts and standard X Man tank top, he looked. She could be pissed at him all she wanted, but it would be damn hard staying objective when her body was a man’s best fantasies come true. Had she always had that perfect ass? Those bouncy tits? Those long, chocolate legs? Were her hips always that curvy and itching to be touched? He figured so. Maybe it was a good thing she wore those long skirts all the time. If the boys of the mansion saw her like he did now... Hoo buddy, stealing Victoria Secret magazines would become pointless. They’d just look at her. He sauntered over, keeping the memory of her body locked away with the few he already had.

He dropped to his knees and held the dustpan for her while she swept the mess. She thanked him, then proceeded to walk it to the trashcan, taking the broom with her. Logan walked to the closet marked SPORTS, and pulled out a fresh bag. He and Colossus went through six or seven bags a few times a month, mostly depending on Logan’s mood. Colossus couldn’t he helped. He hooked the bag up, and picked up the remains of the last one. Leaning against the bag, he rubbed his chin. “Look, Storm, I gotta talk to ya.”

“I’m listening, Wolverine.”

Codenames: Not a good idea when she’s pissed. “Roro, I was an ass, but I’m not all that certain as ta why yer so pissed at me. I mean, what’d I do?” He searched her face, waiting. “I was a dick to Bobby, an’ I apologized, but leaving...” He shrugged. “It’s sorta my thing. I leave all the time and you never say a word.” Logan stood straight, checking the bag and pushing it slightly. “Ya know? Like you don’t really care.”

Ororo dropped her elbows onto her knees, gasped for air, then stood. She sauntered to her reusable water bottle resting idly on the bench. Twisting the tab open, she took heavy gulps and found it was not enough. Eventually she’d have to talk. Grabbing her white towel and mopping her brow, she bit her lip, but only briefly. Why was she acting like such a nervous brat? She faced him yesterday with no problem. Oh, yeah, she reminded herself. Yesterday you opened your big, fat mouth. Best to finish this now so she could go back to punishing her body. “Is that what you think? That I don’t care?”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah. You never showed more interest than a passing nod.” Logan walked to her, crossing his arms to his burly chest. It wasn’t defensive so much as something to do. A conversation like this could open a can of worms and further complicate his life, but... What the hell? His life was already complicated enough. And he owed it to Chuck to try.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “I control the weather, Logan, I’m not telepathic. When you leave, it’s normally at the middle of the night.” She took another swig and gasped. “So you say I don’t care. There is no possible way you see what I see: the aftermath.” Ororo faced him, a hand on her hip. “To be honest, I’m not sure I normally care, you’re right about that. You moving, it’s a part of you, and I’m forced to accept it. Don’t think I like it. But it’s not for the reasons you think.”

Logan raised a brow. “Enlighten me.”

“Gladly,” she snapped. “Every time you leave, the kids wilt, Marie especially.” That made him smile a little. “It isn’t overwhelming, but it’s enough. And I see it each and every time.” Ororo pressed the towel fisted in her hand to his chest. “That’s what I dislike about your leaving. How it affects the kids. I know most of them don’t matter to you, so leaving them is of little consequence. And they know. It hurts, Logan.” She frowned one side of her face. “Many of them come from families who don’t want them, and this becomes their family. So when a part of their family leaves without so much as a goodbye, it emboldens something they already know: They’re neither wanted nor cared about. Not even by their own kind.”

Logan’s face dropped. “Shit, Roro. I never knew,” he complained.

“No, how could you? You’re too busy making an island around yourself. The company you allow is... Questionable, at best.”

The defeat he felt earlier left. Anger started to build. “Questionable.” he repeated.

“Yes, questionable, and I think you know. It’s not Rogue we’re talking about.”

“Jean,” he supplied.

She nodded. “Tell me, Logan: What’s the point of chasing a woman you know you can’t have?”

“Sounds to me like you already have you theories,” he growled.

She shrugged. “Theories never matter as much as the truth. I was never one for common gossip.” Ororo’s shoulders sagged, sensing he was about to snap. “Look, Logan, whatever preconceived notions you have about me, I’m unconcerned. I’ve heard them all my life, but what I said to you yesterday came from personal experience. It was never advice, but it was something you needed to hear. I’d like to think it helped, but seeing you now... It feels like wasted breath. You’re running in circles and you’re dragging me along, hoping I can talk some understanding into that thick metal skeleton.”

They stood in tense silence Ororo had no idea what to make of. If he was angry, she couldn’t tell. He just stood there silently, staring at her. His gaze wasn’t as harsh, but it sure wasn’t friendly. It looked... Sad? No, though she could see remnants in his hazel depths. If Ororo could pick a more exact word, it would be “understanding.” Yes! It was precisely that. Ororo wanted to spin in the air; she won! Her stomach rumbled embarrassingly.

She gripped her sides, her face flushing. The question of how long she’d been in the gym came back.

“We never had our picnic lunch. Can I cash that raincheck?”

Ororo smiled at his attempt. “I wasn’t aware I gave you one--”

“Just say yes, woman.”
__________________________________________________________
AUTHOR'S NOTE: ohmigosh- I read this in standard and I noticed the obvious confusion in regards to telepathic conversation. FIXED!
Sorry I had to delete and re-add. I couldn't just edit and save from the get go. My apologies.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Obligatory back story chapter. Anyways, I figured since I'm going back to school in a few days I might as well post the entire story since I'll be focused on that. Plus... I've got another story rattling around in my head that I REALLY wanna post.
_________________________________________________________
Ororo tucked her calves beneath her, her long legs clad in jean shorts. Her white chambray shirt was cool, completing the look of relaxed, something she felt very little of but did her best to show otherwise. Whatever went through his mind when he offered, the reality was dim to the fantasy. Ah, well, such as life. Ororo watched as he took out the food.

A massive saran wrapped sandwich came first, then some of his favorite chips-- she’d never tried them before-- a Greek salad, an icy beer and water came from the picnic basket she gave him. Ororo was impressed, taking the fork from him and licking her lips. That salad looked amazing. Did he make it himself? She didn’t even realize they had feta cheese. Ororo began to peel back the saran wrap, her mouth watering. Ororo was reconsidering the awkward position with this tasty morsel in front of her. “Thank you, Logan.”

He shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t want the other half of my sandwich. Not that I’d share.” Logan tore the wrapping, his mouth watering for the black forest ham sandwich. His powerful jaws tore into the meat, the mustard dripping down the sides of his mouth. “We’re out of ham, by the way.”

Ororo smiled and shook her head. So that was how the sandwich was so massive. She tipped her head, regarding him. Giggles erupted soon after. He looked at her mid chew. “I’m sorry. It’s not you, well, it is. You remind me of Dagwood. You know, from the Blondie comics?” Logan’s brow and Logan missed the connection. “Your sandwich? Surely, you must have noticed.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Huh,” he grunted, then attacked the sandwich for her benefit. He liked her laughter, it was a pleasant sound, much like her voice. It was husky, seductive, and friendly. It was also slightly accented. That was something he’d noticed a long time ago, the second he stepped inside he knew it was African, but never questioned. Maybe now would be a good time. He swallowed and opened his mouth, but she beat him to speaking.

“I’m sorry if I was rude.” She looked down, biting her inner cheek. “I know I come off as cold, but I never want to be seen as rude. And I apologize.”

Girls had some weird way of messing with his heart. Jubilee, Kitty, and Rouge made him a feel fatherly, Jean made him warm, but Ororo? He was quickly picking up on her ability to make him feel a range of emotions he disliked. Mushy, sentimental, warm, and guilty. And right now, he was feeling super guilty. “I was being an ass, kid. If anything, I should apologize and thank you.” Logan licked his suddenly dry lips. “Did I hurt ya too bad?”

Ororo self consciously looked at her covered shoulders. “No, I’m used to being covered in bruises. Hank said I was fine; you didn’t so any damage.” She uncovered her mouth, swallowed, and continued. “Thank me? What for?”

Logan turned his body to face her. “I don’t know if ya’ve noticed, but most people can’t face me like you did. It was confusing as hell, but I appreciate it. I hate when people fear me, minus the crumb snatchers, but that shit is hilarious.” He nodded, “You look me in eye and tell me what’s up. Makes sense you’re second in command. Should be first, considering how I don’t respect One-Eye.”

“He respects you.” Ororo grinned. “You respect me?” she asked not bothering to hide the glee in her voice. He nodded. She lunged for his beefy neck, locking him in a hug.

Logan rolled his eyes; all girls were the same. Sentimental and too damn huggy. He did like her smell all close to him like that. It was calming. “Alright, alright. Let go.” Once she did, she playfully pushed his head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Ruining the moment. I may be twenty six, but I still enjoy hugs.” Was she really that young? He looked at her trying to decide if it was true. Huh. He always knew she was a looker, but she was much prettier with a smile on her face. A smile was the first thing Logan noticed on Jean. That and the gorgeous red hair. White was nice. Definitely exotic. “Yes, I’m really twenty six. Does that surprise you?”

Logan couldn’t blush, he was too cocky to. But if he was a total pussy he would, and would be right now. “I guess. I don’t really think about you,” he answered honestly. She wasn’t hurt by his statement. He made his crush on Jean no secret and Ororo was a big girl, able to handle a guy not liking her. She picked at her salad, and forked the leafy greens into her mouth. “I don’t really know all that much about you, anyways. You’re sorta like this mystery? I don’t know,” he concluded.

Ah, yes. She was always seen as a mystery. She did nothing to perpetuate it, if anyone ever asked her, she would answer. It’s just that nobody did, and Ororo wasn’t the type to volunteer that kind of personal information. It was better to be asked and know there was interest than force a person to listen to something they didn’t care about. And she told him as much. But at the end, she bit into her salad, sipped her water, swallowed, and asked, “What would you like to know?”

Tapping his bottom lip and considering the possibilities, she started off simply enough. “Those yer real eyes?”

Ororo nodded. “And this is my real hair. It’s part of my mutation, not hereditary. My mother-- N’Dare-- had black hair. Before you can ask, my father’s name was David.”

Logan tipped his head. “Was?” A dark cloud formed, too small and too far away to be a problem, yet Logan saw it. “You don’t gotta explain--”

“They died when I was five. I was born in America, but my father was sent to Cairo for a photography job; he took pictures for magazines and the like. One night, I had a nightmare and it caused a plane to crash into our room. We were trapped under rubble and... I watched my mother die. It... It’s the reason I am afraid of enclosed spaces.” She shrugged, the familiar sickness coming back with the memory. “As you know, my powers are linked to my emotions. It is why I must stay aloof nearly all the time.”

“Yeah.” He genuinely hoped she wouldn’t ruminate on those memories long. They were pretty screwed up, even for him. “So, uh,” he cleared his throat, his mind scrambling, “why d’ya say goddess? You grew up in Africa, shouldn’t ya be Muslim?”

Ororo smiled. “It’s embarrassing, but in Africa, this tribe worshipped me as a goddess because I could change the weather. And my mother’s family is a clan of sorceresses. I suppose the pagan beliefs just... stuck. And I see nothing wrong with them, if you are trying to convert me.”

Holding up his mustard stained hands, he offered defeat. “I don’t even believe in a god. Too much bad in the world for me to think some almighty loving power is up there, not doing anything about it.” A slow smile formed. “But you, however?-- you I could worship.”

“Please, don’t. It really does embarrass me. My childhood hubris is long gone. Reality has long set in.” She finished off her salad. The banana peppers were so crisp, she couldn’t help but wish there had been more of them. Perhaps next time-- if there ever was a next time-- the message would be relayed.

“You still say goddess.”

Ororo pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, her white mane moving. “This is why I don’t tell people that particular story. Least of all you! You are as mature as a thirteen year old boy.”

Logan sat up straight and flexed. “Sure about that, darlin’?”

Brown hands were thrown up. “Point proven!” He roared with laughter, then offered his chips to her. He never shared his chips with her. Ororo noticed, but never mentioned, the sentiment. Taking a fat one, she nibbled. Spicy! Jalapeno chips. Ororo took another sip of her water. She took another chip and nibbled, enjoying the taste and bite, but not wanting to have it all at once.

Hazel eyes roved over brown skin. “Chuck made me come to you. I’m kinda glad I did.”

“I assumed,” she admitted. “Thank you for what I hope was a compliment.”

It was.

Lounging in his room, cigar smoking and beer in hand, his thoughts soured. Alone, always alone. But when wasn’t he? Form the glimpses he caught of his past, he was destined for solitude. Constantly rejuvenating cells guaranteed a long life, longer than everyone else in the mansion. There’d been a few flames in his life that helped pass the time, but he always ended out alone. Always alone.

What’s the point in chasing a woman you can’t have?

Nervously looking around his room, Logan gnashed his teeth on his cigar. Those blue eyes managed to cut straight through eight layers of crap and pierce the core. That could be potentially annoying, and his chest rumbled with the possibility. A challenger would be put down to get what he wanted, and Ororo was definitely a challenger. Scooter wasn’t. What did that mean for his precious Red?

Sinking even further, his heart hit the bottom of his stomach. It was so unfair. He was being a pouty child and she was yucking it up with that loser. Scott had admirable qualities, but he wasn’t an alpha. Logan was an alpha and he knew it. Whenever Logan stepped in a room, he commanded respect and attention. Nobody who dared to cross him lasted. Excluding Charles and Ororo. If everyone had a pack mentality, Charles would be the undisputed alpha. The thought brought a wry smile to his face. The man couldn’t even walk!

But being crippled never stopped Charles. He moved on and helped save the world. Logan admired that. The same could be said for Ororo. Her parents died from her nightmare, and she ended up being a hero, a mother figure to abandoned kids, and masturbation fodder for fans. Begrudgingly, Logan added Scott, but only on a technicality.

It dawned on him that he hadn’t added himself. Logan didn’t feel heroic. Most days he felt like a monster, a killer. These were thoughts he shared with Professor and Marie-- but she touched him and that wasn’t consent. Locked away were pieces of him, and he guarded them like it was nobody’s business. And it wasn’t! He didn’t like running off at the mouth to any stray ear. Trust had to be earned, you didn’t just give it away. It would be nice to be an open book, but he couldn’t afford that luxury. It was hard enough having the whispered “assassin” follow every where he’d go, adding “monster” would make it even harder.

Rain filled his nostrils and Logan touched his skin to make sure he wasn’t wet. He’d been lounging by his open window, after all. Nope, it wasn’t wet out, so it was just Storm coming for nightly checks. Not once did she check on him, he pouted. It was odd thought and he was amused at himself for recognizing it. He sounded like Kurt, and Christ, did that kid have a hard on for her. He rose to his feet, finished his beer, and snubbed his Cuban out in the ashtray.

She was in the kitchen. Her long robe was silken and blue, covering her white nightgown. That long white hair was braided back; Logan considered it a loss. Musical humming filled the air, her husky voice making the melody relaxing. “Up past your curfew?” she asked, not stilling her movements in the kitchen. “I smelled your cigar going out. Smoking is against the rules, need I remind you.” Ororo whisked around the kitchen once more, then stopped at the stove. She placed a kettle down and turned on the burner. Once the water began heating, she washed a used cup, forced a wind to dry it, then put it up. The tray, he assumed carrying the cups, went underneath the cups cabinet.

Logan sauntered to the kitchen. “I don’t need as much sleep as everyone else. Healing factor. And, no, I’m aware smoking is against the rules, I just don’t give a good goddamn.” He rested his weight on his elbows, watching her clean a small mess. Charles liked cookies before he went to bed? Logan knew they talked after dinner, but this was an interesting development. She gaped at him. “What?”

“You’ve got an awful mouth.” She was rewarded with a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush. At least the kids were asleep and he was quiet. Ororo turned back, making sure her water was heating properly.

Logan tracked her fluid movements. For her height at five nine, she was damned graceful. So those dancer legs were good for walking as well as staring. She reached into the cabinet, pulled out a porcelain cup, thought better of it, and pulled out a plastic red teacup with her name printed on the front in alternating blue and white. “Whatcha you doing, Roro? Planning a midnight tea party?”

Melodious laughter reached his ears. “I like to drink tea before I go to bed. Lots of people do it.” She placed the cup down and walked towards him. “Chamomile or jasmine, but tonight I preferred--”

“Chamomile,” he finished. He ignored her suspicious eyes. He’d have to let her know soon enough that he wasn’t always the brute everyone thought him to be. “This something you do nightly?”

Ororo raised a shoulder. “No, maybe... Two or three times a month, but never in a set pattern. The mood has to strike.” She shot him a warning look. No jokes, message received. “Would you like some?”

He wasn’t a tea drinker, but she was inviting him to a special ritual; saying “no” would be rude. And he hadn’t had the chance to talk to her like this in three days. Her company would break his bad mood, even if for a moment. “Why not?” Logan responded. He grabbed a coffee mug, too dignified and male to drink from a dainty teacup. Charles was a guy, but he was British. Canadians weren’t froufrou like that. He placed the cup before her, expectant.

She waved a hand. “Normally I’d take it up to my room, but it’s so nice outside, I thought I might enjoy it on the patio.” She took the hot kettle with both hands, reminding Logan she couldn’t get hot or cold, her body would automatically adjust. Then what was with the robe? He followed her out and she resumed humming. Logan pulled her chair out for her, and Ororo thanked him. He sat across from her, then handed her his coffee mug. She filled it with tea.

Sweet and hot, it paled in comparison to his beer. Next time he’d just bring a brew with him; maybe she’d like sharing a beer. He glanced at the cup in her dainty hands. “Who made that for you?”

Ororo looked at the cup like it was her first time. A look of recognition crossed her face. “Jimmy. He also made me an adorable little bracelet.” She sipped her tea earnestly.

“I forgot how attached he was to you,” Logan mumbled. Jimmy was closer to Ororo than any of the other kiddies. Wherever she went, Jimmy followed. Logan chalked it up to wanting a mother. Ororo played the part, too. Nobody had as many vocal nightmares as Logan, but when Jimmy had one, she’d come running, soothing him back to sleep. “Hasn’t had many nightmares recently,” he tossed conversationally.

She nodded. “Thank the goddess. He’s too young for those kinds of nightmares.”

Logan stilled his hands, his cup seconds away from his lips. “And I’m not?” he tested.

Another calm sip. “Don’t think I meant it that way. Your nightmares bother me, too. I can’t begin to imagine what causes someone as fearless as you to wake up screaming.” Ororo looked up at the full moon swallowed by dark clouds. A playful look filled her cerulean eyes and she touched his arm lightly. “Watch this.” She held out her palm and focused on the empty space. Not long after her eyes whitened over, a miniature tornado formed in her palm, complete with lightning and rain. “Charles and Hank proposed the idea I should tap into my omega potential.”

He had to admit, the hand trick and the omega-potential news was interesting. “And it relates to your hand trick how?” Ororo pushed the tornado from her palm, causing Logan to steel himself. But there were no ridiculous winds, the lightning never struck him, and the rain never wet him. Wolverine had to admit-- sitting a yard away from a full blown tornado and having nothing happen to him or the yard was impressive.

“Whenever I manipulate the environment, there’s an adverse affect. I have to keep a balance always. Recently, I’ve been wondering if tapping into omega could change that.” Ororo waved her hands and the tornado was gone. “Small doses, though.” Roro was like Jean then, only Storm had a choice. Jean lived repressing the Phoenix, but it was always there and always lurking. When it was released, Jean couldn’t continue holding it back. The floodgates were opened and she had to adapt. Storm was aware and chose not to join the elite class of mutants.

Opening his own palms, Logan wished he had a choice. He wished he didn’t have to live as a lightning rod and plenty other things, but he was forced to accept them. Maybe that was part of the reason he found himself attracted to Jean. They both had destruction in them and they didn’t have a choice. Even Logan felt that was a laughable argument.

“Do my nightmares really bother you?” he asked quietly. She would never lie to him and he wanted her honesty. He needed to hear her truthful answer, but he wanted it to be positive. It was nice knowing someone cared. Her little hands cupped his, stroking the rough skin. Storm had soft skin, softer than Jean’s, almost like she was made from the finest silk. The touch was affirmation on its own.

“Of course, Logan, even when you don’t wake up screaming. I often pray to the goddess for the night you can go to sleep and simply rest.” Leaning forward, she pressed a warm kiss to his mutton chopped cheek. He watched her rise to her feet and smooth her palms over the silk robe. “We should get some rest. Tomorrow is a busy day.”

Hurriedly rising to his feet and awkwardly rubbing his beefy neck, he cleared his throat. “Yeah? Why’s that?” She calmly reached for the kettle when he grabbed it for her. A smile was his thanks and she took his cup along with hers. He pushed her chair in and opened the door for her, then followed her inside.

“You’re showing interest in something outside yourself?” she joked as she washed the cups. “Well,” she started, handing him the kettle to put away, “if you come to the kitchen at seven, I’ll show you.” She put the cups away and walked to the stairs. He followed, his room was on the way. Without pause she continued on her way up. Clearing his throat, he bade her goodnight. A similar parting followed, and he disappeared behind his door. Only then did he touch his cheek.

Violence and blood and submersion tanks filled his thoughts and Wolverine was instantly awake. Sweating heavily, he retracted his claws and sat up. Someone didn’t pray hard enough. His sheets were shredded and his wounds were already healed. Standing, Logan balled the bloody remains and tossed them out. His tanned skin was slick with sweat and blood and a shower became his first priority. The hot water would do him some good while he calmed the beast back.

It was still there. Glimpses of a past he only knew only existed in government documents and the edge of his consciousness. Some pieces fit, like the submersion tanks. That was how he got his six best friends according to top secret files. After that he wasn’t sure. He read they planted some of his memories but they all felt so real. The gnawing sensation began and the beast revolted. He wanted to hit something. Whatever he did in his past life-- and he considered it a past life-- could never be atoned for, but someone figured torturing was a good place to start.

The water scorched his skin, but he stayed there. The sting was something useful in focusing if that was what he wanted. Really, if Wolverine ever managed to find the littlest proof he wasn’t born in a lab, he’d be different. He hoped he had a happy family, a good life, something to fall back on, but he sincerely doubted it. It was the way things worked for him. Nothing good stuck, and it was pointless hoping otherwise. Maybe that’s why he never stuck around at the mansion for long. Maybe he was testing how long this place would stick around, how many times he could come back before the closed the doors on him. It was all temporary. He shut off the water.

The digital clock blinked a red 6:47. He padded to the closet and checked to see if he had any spare sheets. He was out and his pillows had to be replaced. Again. It was damn good thing Charles made good money, Logan was an expensive houseguest. He had a couple minutes to spare before he met with...

Wait.

His conscious mind finally caught up with an unconscious thought. Someone didn’t pray hard enough. His thought wasn’t meant to be disparaging and yet it was. He was angry at her for something out of her control and he felt guilty for it. It wasn’t right and damn sure unfair. Poor Ro wasn’t a telepath, she had no clue he had a nightmare. Even when you don’t wake up screaming. Or maybe she had. He rubbed his cheek and found the mindless action soothing. He had to get dressed.

Already in the kitchen and already dressed, she wasn’t in her signature skirt. She’d opted for a pair of skinny jeans and a taupe camisole that complimented her skin. Once again, her glorious hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Logan was again reminded about her body. The tight denim lifted the apple ass he wanted to bite and the tight shirt accentuated her wasp waist, flat belly, and ample 36C cup breasts. Logan knew cup size by sight. She bent and Logan groaned. It wasn’t right for a woman to have a body like that, simple wear became sexy in a heartbeat.

Whoops. Ororo snapped up and placed a hand over her heart. Tied to her wrist was a leather bracelet with cubes spelling STORM. He immediately recognized it as Jimmy’s bracelet. “You’re very quiet.”

He flashed her a wry smile. “Not always, darlin’,” he winked. “Makin’ breakfast I see?” Eggs, cheese, tomatoes, peppers, onions, spinach, various fruits, and tortilla wraps littered the counters.

She silently nodded. “The kids’ food doesn’t make itself, although it does for vegetarians,” she said, sticking her straight nose proudly in the air. “Today is breakfast wraps and fruit smoothies. If you could help, I’d really appreciate it.” She started the oven and he washed his hands. “What do you want to do?”

He picked a knife and smirked. “I’ll cut the stuff up so you can scramble and blend.”

They worked in tandem, maneuvering around each and never bumping, the silence companionable. Occasional looks were made, Ororo checking on the food and Logan checking her ass out in attempts to assure himself she wasn’t wearing any of those fake butt pads. And to just look. She had a fantastic ass. He nudged her out of the way to add the diced contents. She handed him the spatula and took over the blender. He scrambled expertly, then turned on the radio to a local oldies station. She didn’t complain so he didn’t change it. He was thankful, June Carter’s voice was crooning a sweet beat and Johnny’s matched it.

Logan hummed most of the lines without forgetting his task. The cheese was added and he began tossing in onions and tomatoes. Ororo left the kitchen briefly, then returned with vanilla extract. The blender went off without ruining his enjoyment of the song. She finished and Logan started wrapping the eggs in the tortilla wraps. He turned to catch her tapping her foot in time as the song ended, sucking some accidentally spilt smoothie off her thumb. His heart did a funny tug at how cute the sight was. He didn’t have enough time to process the emotion. Kitty fell through the ceiling and Lorna trudged down the stairs, her green hair messy. Breakfast rush started.


Breakfast was unremarkable... to Logan. To everyone else it was weird. Firstly, he cooked their food! And he ate with them, something he’d done all of six times. He wasn’t all smiles but he didn’t bite anybody’s head off. He kept quiet for the most part, but whenever Storm spoke, he grunted. When she smiled at him for “communicating,” his scowl softened and he’d wink. It was weird as hell, but nobody commented... Out loud. Charles scolded several students for using their telepathy to gossip.

“Storm,” someone started. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Logan waited for the question. Everyone wanted her every minute of every day. It was amazing she never lost her patience. “Are you going to the store today?” Especially when they took a roundabout way of asking for things.

“I am, yes.”

“Can I go? I need to get something... Personal.” Her face reddened. Oh.

Storm sweetly smiled. “I can get it for you specially. You know, if you’d prefer to stay in and relax.” She handled that like a pro. The girl nodded, relief on her face. “Speaking of which, if there’s anything any of you want, you have a limit of one thing. Otherwise, make a list of things you need. I’ll expect them in twenty minutes. And before you ask, I will not make a pit stop at the mall for anything. Jubilee.”

Logan chuckled as Jubilee lowered her hand and slumped back in her seat.

“Additionally, I’ve made a list of chores that I expect to be done before or by the time I get back. Rest assured, I will know, so don’t try and hide it. The laundry schedule is posted and has been rectified; Kurt, you’re first today.” Ororo wiped the corner of her mouth and continued. “I should be back by twelve, and if everything is all done, I don’t see why we can’t have a powers-allowed football game.” Cheers and excited murmurs erupted. “Consider it danger room practice. And don’t thank me, thank Charles. I still think we should be perfecting the new programs Logan made. And if your chores aren’t done, we will.”

“Oh, Professor, you’re the best!”

“Thanks, Professor!”

“I’m gonna win!”

Logan couldn’t help his tiny smile. Charles remained composed, but Logan could tell the kids were making him happy. Hell, they were doing the same for Logan and he wasn’t sure he was included in any of the work. I’ll show you. His eyes darted to Ororo who was smiling back at him. Her innate ability to tell when he was looking at her was startling.

He helped her clean up. “Do I have a list of chores?” he asked once the last cup was put away.

She dried her hands and blew a wind to dry his. “Yes, actually, you’ll be coming with me to shop. Some things are heavy to carry and I could use some muscle. Colossus usually comes, but today he’s got chores. Hank had to return to DC. Once we get back, you’ll clean your room, wash your clothes, help me referee the football game, prepare lunch, keep the younger kids from drowning in the pool, start a barbecue dinner, and put the kids to bed.” With each task she mention a finger was ticked off. Before he could refuse, Ororo put her hands on her curvy hips and wryly smiled. “If you’re going to be here, I might as well use you.”

They stood in a staring match for a beat, then Logan dropped his shoulders. “I’ll get my boots. And as fer the barbecue, I cook the shit my way. You don’t say a damn thing about it. Got it?” Ororo smiled and skipped to him, raised herself up to him using his shoulder as leverage, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, thanking him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ya love me now, but ya won’t when we watch ‘em play football. I wanna see blood.” He followed her to the stairs.

She stopped halfway up and faced him. “There will be no blood, Wolverine. Please remember it’s a kids football game, key word being kids.” She turned and continued on up, Logan tailing her.

“Where ya headed now, Storm?” picking up on her use of field names.

“My room. I need to brush my teeth and make my bed.”

Logan faltered. “Oh.”

“Hm,” she murmured, her trek continuous. “You’re not doing the same?”

“I’m out of sheets and pillows. Already brushed.”

Ororo furrowed her brow and reached her attic stairs. Considering his words, she continued on accepting the fact that he wasn’t about to leave her alone. That was fine even if a little strange. This would be his first time up. Something told her it wouldn’t be his last by a long shot.

Wolverine sniffed. If his eyes weren’t as enhanced as they were, he wouldn’t have been able to tell he was inside. It smelled like aftermath of a spring shower in an exotic garden. Much like his actions in the greenhouse, he looked around, taking in the comfortable surroundings. Storm’s room was huge, more like a loft, with a personal terrace. Wandering around, he mapped her room as she brushed her teeth.

It was bigger than his room, taking up the entire floor. Her style was modern without being impersonal. Her white couch and separate white seats were centered around a flatscreen plasma settled in a cherrywood bookcase and glass coffee table. Tossed over the couch was an afghan and a worn book, much like the books in the bookcase. In the corner was a dedicated office space with a chair opposite the desk. Piles of paper and a laptop littered the surface. He noticed the closet against the wall and figured it was a walk in, even if there were a couple dressers strategically placed. He looked up. Along with the windows from the terrace, there was a skylight spanning the ceiling. Logan wondered what it would be like to look up and see the moon, the stars, and maybe a storm whilst laying in her comfy king sized bed. Pristine, relaxed, and with potted flowers all over, Ororo’s room was her.

She returned from the bathroom and nodded. “Would you mind helping me?” she asked taking one side of the rumpled blue sheet and pulling. “How are you “out of pillows,” Logan?”

The pulled the fluffy duvet and laid it flat. Once again, they worked in tandem, and her bed was quickly made. She dropped down and began putting on a comfortable pair of canvas sneakers. “I had a flashback.” Ororo grabbed a casual tote. There was no further discussion.

An accepting nod was offered. “I’ll clean the feathers. It should give you ample time to find a shirt to wear that isn’t a wife beater.” They headed down to his room, kids handing Storm lists on the way down. She collected their lists and placed them within the tote. They got to his room and she tsked at the smell of smoke and the beer cans and bottles littering the floor. “My, my Logan. The mess doesn’t bother you? I’ll clean the feathers, but you need to shape up,” she scolded.

He smiled sheepishly, actually ashamed of his room’s mess. He gathered some of the bottles and placed them on the small wooden table. By that time, she’d formed a small whirlwind and guided it to the waste bin in his bathroom. She turned and opened his closet, pulling out a red checkered flannel. “This should do,” she murmured. Closing his closet door and tossing it to him, she waited for him to button it. “Ready to shop?”


As it turned out, shopping for growing kids took a lot more energy than he expected. Logan didn’t even want to think about the money; the amount of coupons she’d used were staggering. Ice cream, eggs, meat, cheese, bread, tampons, lotion, vegetables, shampoo, toothpaste, fruits, cereal, coffee, tea, Kleenex, cough drops, and individual shit all racked up. It took all of two hours to gather everything and about fifteen minutes to ring it all up. But Logan got his sheets and pillows, Polaris got her nail polish, Artie got his asthma medicine-- the reason why he couldn’t smoke!--and Samantha got her personal tin of chocolates. He felt exhausted and he still had shit to do when he got back. His respect for Storm grew if she did this every month.

When he got back, he had to hurry and clean his room. She helped but refused to do his laundry adamantly. Logan was just joking... Kind of. Folding was a pain in the ass. She left to do whatever, ordering him to get his butt in the yard the second he was done. And he did because she was scary when she was bossy. Once out there, she was waiting, talking to a few younger kids who didn’t want to play. Her hair was down. Logan liked that. She turned and waved.

The next word stumbled from his mouth without thinking. “You outta yer goddamn mind looking like that?” Logan cleared his throat. “Flamin’ hell. Where’s yer clothes, Storm?” he growled. It wasn’t right for her to be standing around with her tits and ass out like that.

Big blue eyes rolled heavenward. “It’s a bikini. I’m swimming with the younger kids while you play football with the older kids. Don’t let them kill each other and do not curse. Your skeleton is metal,” she warned, turning her back on him. “In an hour or so I’ll get you for lunch.”

He watched her go. She was in a white bikini that did something wonderful to her already amazing breasts. The bottom-- ahem-- peeked the lower half of her ass as she walked on. His jeans became tighter and his fingers itched to spank the supple mocha flesh. To punish her, so she’d know better than to walk around looking like that. And because the Wolverine found himself crazed with the idea of touching that apple bottom. Goddamn! Jean couldn’t even fill out a bikini like that, and her body was amazing. Logan predicted some very cold showers in his future. Logan heard a low whistle. It wasn’t his own.

He turned to find a couple teenaged boy watching her walk by, mouths open. The stench of male arousal filled the air. “I told you she was hotter,” whispered a kid named Dean.

“Really. I don’t know what he sees in Mrs. Summers when she’s walking around stacked like that!”

“You think she’ll let me rub some lotion on her?” That got a couple chuckles. “What?”

“You have no idea what I’d give to be Mr. Munroe. I’d wreck that chick--”

“Hey!” he barked. He’d had enough. How dare they look at Storm like a piece of meat? He stalked towards them, shoving them from the sight he hated to tear his eyes from. “I catch you saying anything disrespectful about Storm again, you’ll answer to me. And I promise you, what you’re thinking will be merciful compared ta what I’ll really do.” A few kids gulped and scampered away. With a last cursory glance to Ororo who’d been helping a kid no bigger than six years of age swim, he turned to the game.

It was fun. Everyone used their unique ability to their team’s advantage and Logan found that it was a good exercise as opposed to danger room runs. The kids had to work as a group while thinking individually. The exposure to another’s power while exercising ones own helped reflexes and reaction time; nobody wanted to get hit by a firework or frozen in ice. A few times he’d call a foul, but for the most part it was an easy game. When it neared lunch time, some wandered to the pool, mostly girls. The guys stayed back to play rougher, inviting Logan in. It was really on from there.

But occasionally, he’d cast a glance at a bikini clad Storm. It wasn’t right for someone with her body to be a teacher; she wore that bikini like it was a second skin. He felt protective and wanted more than anything to knock those dumb assed boys on the side of their heads for talking about her like that. Stacked?-- for shame. Her honor was in his adamantium hands.

When he was waved over for lunch, he hurried over. They were making sandwiches. After the brat pack got their food, she settled beside Logan and Charles, biting into her peanut butter and banana sandwich. It was to Logan’s relief that she put on some sort of wrap even if it was a little see through; those boys needed to put their tongues back in their heads to chew.

When night fell, some of the kids traveled inside to watch a movie or play in the game and others stayed outside to fly and play sports. As promised, when he started cooking she didn’t say a damn thing. Like breakfast and lunch, he settled beside her, totally oblivious to the stares he was getting. He would have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact that he kept making fun of the fact that Ororo wasn’t eating true barbecue. Tofu would never taste the same as bloody meat.

Those cattish eyes he was starting to love rolled, an action Logan was becoming fond of. She bit into her tofu dog, completely ignoring his tirade. “...And ya ain’t getting all the necessary protein. It’s why yer so skinny.”

Ororo licked stray mustard sauce. “I am not skinny, as you well know, I’m fit. And I do get necessary protein. All those calories in your beloved meat are not in mine and yet I get twice as much protein.”

“It ain’t appetizing.”

She swallowed the last of her “hot dog” smothered in mustard. “It is.” Ororo began digging into her baked beans. “Thank you for cooking.”

A grunt was his response. “Yer welcome, but we’ll be opening this line of conversation later.”

“Scott’s calling!”

Ororo stiffened faster than Logan. It took him a second, but she could feel him tensing and growing silent. Harry’s could expect their loyal patron. Oh, well. At least his reaction time wasn’t as immediate. Ororo took the call inside. “Yes, Scott?”

“Roro!” greeted Scott with his usual warmth. “How are things?”

“Good, but I imagine they can’t be as good as Hawaii. What’s the weather like down there?” she joked.

“Perfect. Like everything else. But I called for you! The last few times Jean called I missed talking to you,” Scott pouted. “I miss my sister.”

“I miss my brother,” she admitted. “But things are good. No fires.”

“You sure? Hank told me you got into it with Wolverine. Am I gonna have to fly up to Canada and kick his ass?” he asked jokingly, but Ororo could tell the underlying seriousness. Scott was super protective of Ororo; she was his baby sister in every way that counted.

She glanced around then turned back to the phone. “Save your money because he’s here in the mansion. And you heard correctly, we did get into it. But I handled it, Scott. No need to worry.” The bruises were healing nicely. “He’s actually been helpful.”

“Helpful? Wolverine? Hey, Jean, get this! Logan is at the house and not being a tool,” he shouted. Ororo heard water turning off and a soft voice in the background. “Jean wants to talk to you. I love you, Roro. Be safe, okay? Don’t let anyone walk over you. You’re too nice sometimes.” Logan’s name went unsaid. “I’m going to put Jean on now.”

“Bye, Scott. It was great to hear from you again. Love you, too.” The phone was passed a soft voice came on the line. “Jean?”

“Hey, Ororo! What’s this I hear about Logan helping?”

Ororo grinned and twirled a strand a her white hair. “He’s been helpful.” Ororo hesitated. “He’s been totally different from what I expected.”

Jean laughed. “I understand. He’ll live, not to sound harsh, but it’s true. I’m Mrs. Scott Summers!” she squealed. In the back Scott whooped. “Oh, Ororo, it’s so weird. I’m still getting used to it all. Hawaii, I mean,” she joked. Ororo chuckled obligingly, falling silent.

“I hear it’s pretty great.” Ororo had no clue whether she was talking about Hawaii or being married.

Sensing Ororo’s change, Jean hurried the conversation. “I’ve gotta go. We’re going to a hula class. I’m definitely getting Scott in one of those skirts. Take care of the kids and Logan for me. But take care of yourself especially. Scott wasn’t lying when he said you were too nice. Okay, my Windrider? Promise to tell them I said hello?”

“I promise,” Ororo concluded. “G’bye.”

“Bye.”

Ororo placed the phone on the hook and stood there watching it. That little wound opened back up, making her feel heavy. She couldn’t stay that way for long. Standing behind her, Logan cleared his throat and stuck his hands in his pockets, legs crossed leaning against the door. She turned, a weak smile on his face. “Jean says hello.” He gave a terse nod. He kept looking, his face void of emotions. She felt nervous for some reason. Like she’d been caught.

“You wanna go for a drink?”


An amber shot was sloshed back. The bar was nothing like Ororo expected. She expected a total dive, instead it was just an average bar. The roughnecks were balanced by the number of flirty college students and typical, white collar guys. They didn’t serve wine and Ororo didn’t want a girly drink. Those martinis were traps anyways. She opted for whiskey much to Logan’s chagrin. They sat in a backed booth, excluded from the other patrons. His head was hung slightly low, his hands around his second bottle of Molson. They’d been quiet and introspective, clashing with the noisy interior of the bar.

“I still think about running. Ta Canada. But yer right, it won’t fix anything. She’ll still be married and I’ll still be alone,” he said softly, almost to himself. There. It was out. Now she could say something that would fix him. She’d offer some sage words and he’d pull himself up by his bootstraps using it.

“I assumed.” Ororo took another sip. “Yes, she’ll still be married. Forever if she’s lucky.” Logan snorted. “She’s happy, Logan. You should be happy for her.”

He waved his hand. “I am, Ro. I am. She deserves happiness with how sweet she is. Just... What about me? Forget her, what about my happiness?” he pleaded. “Huh?”

“Did you think she’d bring your happiness?” Ororo asked, mildly concerned.

His broad shoulders lifted then drooped. “Maybe. I don’t fucking know--”

“Course you do,” she promptly said. “Did you think she’d bring your happiness?” she repeated.

Logan bit his inner cheek. “Yeah. She was the first person to look at me like I was actually there. I was alone for so long, and she smiled at me. She showed me basic human kindness and I loved her for it. I still do, but my feelings will never be reciprocated. She may be attracted to me, but she’ll never want me. Never love me.” Logan sipped his beer, then motioned for another. “The funny thing is is that I’ve known this a lot longer than you think.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” He took the last sip and placed the beer back on the table. “Way back at Alkali Lake, we camped in the jet. I kissed her and she set me straight. She said, “you flirt with the bad guy, but the marry the good guy.” Yep.” Logan nodded, feeling his ire rise. That was all he could feel for that. It stopped being depressing a long time ago. And he wasn’t angry at Jean, he needed to be set straight. The anger was at himself and how true it was. He wasn’t a good guy. Even if he worked for the X Geeks. “I know which one I am.”

“You’re wrong!” she demanded. She looked up at the waitress who picked up her whiskey and Logan’s bottle. “Oh, I’ll have what he’s having.” Logan raised a brow but remained silent. The conversation topic was set and he refused to stray from it. “You’re both wrong. You’re a good guy, Logan. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

His brows furrowed. “You really think that?” he challenged. “I’m a killer, a government weapon. Some days I’m mean and others I’m vicious. I’m an alcoholic--”

“Oh, stop your pity party. You can’t possibly believe all those things.” She took the cold beer and sipped it. “You’re hard externally. We may have only started our friendship, but I’ve seen you interact with the few you let in, and it’s wonderful. Rouge sees you as a father figure, Kitty relishes your companionship, and Jubilee is as addicted to you as you are your cigars. And you are not an alcoholic. I consider your drinking a... quirk.” Ororo took a longer swig.

Logan nearly smiled. Her words were fierce and completely honest. She didn’t lie to him about one thing and his crumbling ego gobbled it up. But he almost smiled. She dodged the bit about him being a killer and a government tool. “What about my past?”

“It’s just that, Logan. The past. Who you are now is everything. You’re holding onto this idea that you can never atone for something you had no control over--”

“You don’t know that--”

“Styker called you “property.” Anyone labeled as such doesn’t have a choice. I know you couldn’t have willingly killed.” Ororo held his gaze unflinchingly. “You confuse me, Logan. You could do anything with your abilities and you choose to do good, but you don’t even bother to acknowledge it. You’re a remarkable man; you will find your happiness. Just give it time to find you,” she grinned. The tatters of his heart swelled and mended. If she kept complimenting him like that, he’d get an even bigger ego. “And as for marrying the good guy?” She rested her chin in her hand, her voice going soft. “Sometimes the good guy doesn’t pan out. Sometimes the good guy hurts you worse than the bad boy.”

Logan tipped his head, sensing her hurt and unwillingness to share more. It did something to him. He wanted to find the bastard who’d hurt her and rip his heart out. He wasn’t a murderer, but for Ro, he could be. He guzzled his beer then placed a twenty on the table. “C’m’on. Let’s get out of here. You need your rest to handle those munchkins in the morning.”

It was two days before Jean and Scott would come back. The thought bothered him, but he wasn’t kicking to head up to Alberta as badly as he’d been in the beginning. It was difficult knowing she’d never want him but he was getting there. Jean would always hold that special place in his heart; she was the first person to treat him like a person during a dark time. He’d still love her but it wasn’t romantic any longer. It was more of a friendly love, different from how he felt about Rouge, but similar in many ways.

A soft nudge brought him back from his musings. Storm was walking past, carrying a new plant. Hank gave her clippings of a Bengal Clock Flower to grow, knowing how she liked the twining plants. He offered to help her pot them if in return she would let him watch a very important boxing match on her plasma. Whenever he tried to watch the television in the common rooms, the violent channels were blocked, and boxing was deemed one of them. She agreed, but begrudgingly so. Potting plants took longer when one considered the flow of the greenhouse. Everything had to balance or else it would become cluttered.

He bent down beside her and watched as she kneaded the soil. He copied her movements precisely and placed the dirt back over the roots. When Logan stopped to think about it, his sticking around was largely due to the resident goddess. She kept him occupied so the dark thoughts couldn’t sink in, and if they did she simply refuted them. It made her special and totally unique. Ororo, or Ro, kept him guessing. Whenever he thought he had her pinned, she’d do something amazing and out of character while maintaining consistency. It was a dichotomy that was confusing and spellbinding, difficult and effortless.

A month was nearly gone. A month he assumed he’d spend in Canada drinking and bed hopping while hopelessly pinning. Now he was sitting in dirt, joking about how finicky she was over plants, happy. Wolverine was happy. Logan wasn’t foolish enough to think this was the happiness he wanted because the beast was still alone, but it was a start. The man found a companion. He was finally making a friend that understood him. Whenever Logan stumbled, Ororo was right there, her smile tender and only for him.

And that was becoming a problem-- his stupid crush on Ro. It was unintentional, starting with the day he saw her in that bikini. His eyes gobbled up her body, loving how spectacularly feminine it was. And then he got the chance to help her braid her hair and marveled at how soft it was, like clouds. He loved long hair, but Jean cut hers short; Ororo’s touched her waist. And it was white like snow. Red was absolutely gorgeous, but you could put that in a bottle. Nobody could get perfectly white hair.

“Thank you, Logan.”

He faced her, loving that sweet smile. It was his and nobody else’s. Logan knew because he watched how she interacted with the other students and staff. She had one for everyone and each one was genuine. Jean’s smiles were warm, but they weren’t personal. Scott was the only one with a customized smile. Logan used to be jealous, but it wasn’t so bad now. They were married so it made sense she look at him like that.

“As long as I watch my match later, don’t mention it. Really. Don’t mention this.”

Her eyes twinkled. He liked that. Blue eyes were nice, but hers were so different. They were the color of the sky, something no one else had. And they were clear and bright and expressive and mysterious. When they shared a silence, he’d look at them and try and map the emotions, but there were so many he’d get lost. It was beautiful and heartbreaking, and he wished she could let go without worrying about harming the world. But that was something else they shared. They were always restrained. That much was becoming apparent with day he spent with her.

She rose to her full height and wiped her palms. as customary, she offered him her satiny hand. He took it and rose, holding it a second longer than necessary. Tanned hands went in pockets immediately after. They walked across the great lawn when as customary, Ororo grunted. “I smell awful.”

And as customary, he smirked. “You smell like you always do.”

Ororo glanced at him nervously. “I sincerely hope that isn’t a bad thing.”

“It ain’t.”

Blowing out a defeated breath, she rose her arms. “I’m going to take a shower. I shall see you later, Wolverine,” she teased, flying up to her terrace on her winds.

“See you tonight, Storm.”

He waltzed inside, totally at ease. “Yah’re smiling,” Rouge commented from her seat on the couch.

“Good to see ya, too, Marie,” he answered, walking to the fridge and pulling out a beer hidden there. He didn’t touch the six pack, that was for later. He popped the tab and began guzzling the drink as if it were water. It didn’t take long for her to join him in the kitchen.

“Yah’ve been smilin’ a lot more since hanging ‘round Ms. Munroe,” she started.

“Marie, whatever it is yer trying ta say, spit it out. I’ve gotta get in the shower.” He licked a stray bead of Molson from his mouth.

“Ah’m not trying to say anything, Logan. Ah’m just mentioning it. It’s nice-- yah bein’ friends with her.” Rouge stepped around the counter and folded her arms to her chest. “Yah needed one. I can’t be there for yah all the time.” Logan ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Startin’ ta feel the same way.”

But, God, did he hope it was just a stupid crush.



Ororo hunched over Charles’ desk, pointing at a plan. It’d been something she’d been considering long before Alkali Lake, before Jean and Scott’s wedding. She always needed space, but after him the need became more persistent. Ororo loved her loft, but it was still too close. It held too many memories of a time she didn’t care to repeat. And she loved Jean and Scott with her whole heart, but their love was something she just couldn’t be around. It wasn’t bitter at this point or even jealousy, it wasn’t depressing or irritating. Their love was sweet, but it was a reminder.

Time passed and Ororo was able to stop feeling those dark emotions, but she still wished to have her own place. She wanted her own kitchen and her own living room and her own fireplace to snuggle beside. She wanted to be away from the constant need for a little while so she could pamper herself within four walls. The attic was suitable, but it wasn’t perfect.

She needed her space. “I imagine we can split the room into two or leave it as one,” Charles nodded, accepting her proposal. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

Yes, without a doubt. She might be young, but this was something she would do eventually. Might as well expedite the process. “Of course, Charles. We’re taking in more students and we can’t keep breaking the rooms into thirds. Besides, I’ve always admired homeowners. Even if it involves paying rent.”

“Ororo, my dear, you know I’d never make you pay rent. It was yours the minute you asked about it,” Charles smiled, amused at the prospect.

“Oh, Charles, you know I wouldn’t feel right--”

“You never felt right about any gift. Remember how long it took for me to convince you the greenhouse was for you to cultivate without growing food for the house?” he chuckled as she blushed even darker. “Consider it a trade, then. You’ve helped me with the students-- and Logan-- selflessly and I give you the land. And if you haven’t noticed, it won’t be a great loss to me giving you the place. No one but you visits it. I must admit I even forgot it was there.” Charles turned his attention to the floor plans she dragged up. What she wanted to do wasn’t excessive, but he’d make sure it was perfect for her.

Ororo nodded, accepting his offer. “If we start now, by the time winter ends, I should have it finished.”

“A perfect Christmas gift to you, but I believe it can be done faster. I found someone to check it out tomorrow afternoon. But for now, I believe you have a very excited Wolverine waiting for you in your room. My bet is on Froch, but everyone is assuming Dirrel will take the win. Again.” Ororo gaped at him. “I’m an old man, but I still read the sports section.”

Ororo threw her head back and laughed, taking the schematics with her. Placing a quick kiss to his bald head, she left and headed up the stairs. When she arrived to her room she heard the TV and a clap from powerful hands. A smile spread her lips. Charles’ ability to know things astounded her, and he hadn’t even breached her mind. She sent a gentle nudge to him, and received his warmth back in response.

“Flamin’ hell, Ro, ya gonna stand outside that door all night?” he shouted. Ororo received another nudge, this time with laughter in it. Apparently Charles found Wolverine’s rude attitude just as funny as she. Ororo stepped inside and saw Logan camped out on her couch, popcorn, chips and dip, pretzels, and beer on her coffee table. “Ya forget this was yer room or something? What’s in yer hand?”

Whoops. She meant to hide those better. “Nothing important. I’m going to take a shower if you don’t mind.” Ororo put her schematics in her nightstand and walked to her dresser. If she was going to be lounging with him, her nightgown wouldn’t be the right attire. She opted for a pair of boxer shorts and a plain tee shirt.

“Don’t take too long. The match is about ta start.”

Tonight would not be about pampering then. The candles in her vanity would be ignored. Not that she wanted to take a luxurious bath with Logan in the room. He would never be improper, and her nudity never bothered her, but it would still feel odd. A simple shower would do.

As the water ran, she couldn’t help but think about the fact that she was going to have a house. A whole place to her own. She’d want the master bedroom a little bigger, maybe one of those claw foot tubs, a shower with a glass door and tile inside, and a cozy den. There was a fireplace-- maybe she’d enjoy placing a bookcase beside it so on winter nights she could read by the fire. Not that the cold would ever be a problem for her, her body would just adjust.

There would be spare rooms, she thought as she worked a lathered her hair in conditioner. The house had four rooms and two bathrooms excluding the one in her room. Those would become guest rooms if anything else. The conditioner was rinsed form her hair and she left the shower refreshed. She called for a quick wind and added her favorite moisturizer. She’d been flying with Warren earlier, before she’d worked in the greenhouse with Logan, and the skies dried her out. Once her clothes were tugged on, she joined Logan, not bothering to brush her teeth just yet.

The match was already going and a beer was being slurped. He paused when he saw her. “Ya took forever, Ro. Half the match is over.”

She hopped over her couch and landed unceremoniously beside him. Picking up a chip and plunging it into some guacamole, Ororo winked. “I’m glad your concept of time is so accurate.” She popped the chip into her mouth trying to not crunch so loudly. She looked at her coffee table, finding something missing. “You didn’t bring water.”

A beer was placed in her hand. “Ya drink this.”

“Logan--”

“Humor me, Ro. Ya can’t watch a boxing match without beer.” She groaned and took the proffered beer. She took a small sip and placed it back down, refusing to take another drink. The chips and dip were well tended, though.

The fight was exciting; even Ro got into it. It was damn cute, too. He could tell she’d never watched a fight like this. She cheered or groaned whenever an exciting punch was landed, not caring who it was for. Her enthusiasm was token, something quaint. When they got a chance, he’d explain the rules better, show her the best boxers, but for now he let her be ignorant. It was like seeing the little kid she probably was when Charles brought her to America.

Huh.

That was something. He never knew what she was like when she got here. Come to think of it, he really didn’t know how Charles found her. The fight ended and Logan couldn’t contain his curiosity. He didn’t feel like he was intruding, she’d tell him. He lowered the volume of the TV, not really needing to. If Ro spoke he’d hear her clearly, but she’d get he wanted to talk.

Her sky blue eyes twinkled. “I take it ya liked it.”

She nodded. “I was unsure at first, but I can see why you enjoy boxing matches.” Ororo tucked her dancer legs underneath her and leaned against the armrest of her couch. “Was there something on your mind? You turned down the analysts.”

It was scary how well she could pick things up. But that was the point, after all. “I was just thinking about you and yer time in Cairo.”

“Oh?” she shifted her weight and tipped her head.

He grunted. “Yeah. Did Charles find ya because you were in the papers or something? ‘Child Goddess?’”

She clicked her tongue and looked away briefly. “No, Logan, I wasn’t in the papers. And if I was, it would be for something vastly different from my mutant status. I used to be a street urchin, a master thief as a child. I could carjack and pickpocket better than anyone you’ll ever know.” She lowered her head and tucked some hair behind her ear. “But... I was also foolish. I saw a rich white man in the streets and thought I could make a good mark. I didn’t get very far.”

Whoever thought Wolverine was the only one with the interesting past obviously knew nothing about Storm. Whenever something about her started making sense, she found a new way to keep him on his toes. She should write a book, he felt. He’d read every page of her epic. “I can’t picture you doing all that.”

Her husky laughter warmed him. “Most cannot. I still practice the skill even if it’s useless. You never know when picking a lock or pocket will come in handy.” Ororo picked a pretzel up and happily chewed. A quick shrug concluded her explanation. They were quiet, and while he liked their silences, another question came to mind. “They’re schematics.”

“Of the mansion?”

“No, of a house. A while back I... I asked if I could move into it.” She hesitated. “Would you like to see?” He grunted his yes and she moved to her nightstand and took out the floor plans. She didn’t have to move the snacks as Logan took the initiative. The white paper was unrolled, revealing the adequately sized house. She explained she wanted to move some room around and remodel the kitchen.

He hunched over, listening. A new bathroom, replaced pipes and wiring, better kitchen, remodeled fireplace, safer roof, more windows, and maybe a little porch and/or patio so she could relax. It would all take about five or six months... If he did it. He knew all the right places to buy quality materials. It would be the perfect project to take on. “When do we start?”

“Charles is bringing someone in tomorrow afternoon to assess the place.” She went to grab another pretzel.

“I could do it. I built my cabin with my own two hands.”

“You have a cabin?” she mumbled, her mouth stuffed with pretzels.

He snorted at her unladylike display. “Yeah, darlin’. I’ll take ya up there one day.” He examined the floor plan with a critical eye. Yeah, he’d do it. He’d drop by Chuck’s in the morning, tell him he was taking the job, and do it for Ororo before she could say no. Not that she could talk him out of it. He leaned back on her couch and turned the volume up. “Ya ever watch Pale Rider?”


He was running through a dark tunnel underground and completely cut off from civilization. He briefly wondered what was the point of having the damn place he underground if no one was around to see it, if no one even knew it existed. There was a shot and his ears began ringing with the sound. It slowly dawned on him that he was the one holding the gun, but couldn’t remember how he got it. A woman screamed and the scene changed. Whatever information he could’ve gleaned from the nightmare was gone.

He was strapped down, naked and bleeding. He didn’t think he would make it, not this time. That wasn’t a problem. They’d been at it for hours, bleeding him dry on that operating table. If he died now, it would be a gift from a god he stopped believing in years ago... Not that he was sure. It was going black... An injection was administered to his side and he awoke. A dark snarl erupted from his throat. No! This was what they wanted. It was happening again...

Ororo awoke to the scariest sounds she’d ever heard. For a second, she thought she was back in Africa, a lion preparing to attack her. What she found was Logan snarling like an animal. He was dreaming, asleep on her couch, not that it was any solace to her. Halfway through Pale Rider he drifted asleep and Ororo didn’t have the heart to wake him. She rose from her bed and cautiously shook him. “Logan, Logan! You’re dreaming. Wake up. Logan, please wake up.”

He was on the brink. A deeper growl left his throat and cheers began. Logan fought it, but the memory was changing. There was a rainstorm in the lab. Why was there a rainstorm in the lab? Someone was calling his name. Not “animal” or “Wolverine.” His name.

Ororo gasped. His pupils were dilated so wide that she couldn’t tell his eyes were hazel. She could tell that whatever happened in the dream didn’t just scare him, it changed him. He wasn’t Logan at this point, he was the thing people whispered about. This was the feared Wolverine, the core inside of him. She very aware that a misstep could possibly prove fatal. His claws weren’t extended, but they could. Even with his eyes open he was still trapped within the dream.

She had to move fast. He was rising above her, a low growl rumbling his chest. If was in an animal mindset, looking him in the eye was a bad idea. She lower her gaze and waited for him to calm back down. The growl dropped an octave and Ororo’s racing heart slowed. It wasn’t like she was afraid-- she’d seen plenty of wild animals in Africa-- but instead felt excited and fascinated. His blunt nose fell upon her and she stretched her neck, furthering her submission.

He took it, rubbing his head into her shoulder, his whiskers tickling her. She kept from laughing as he rubbed his scruffy cheek to her neck. When he mapped enough of her scent, he took liberties, his hands roaming her body. Ororo nearly slapped him, but if he was in an animalistic state, any perceived attack could prove fatal. Before long, he stopped and huffed, enveloping her in a bear hug. “Mine.”

“Logan?” she asked softly, totally confused. For a second, the hug became tighter, then it released. Logan was back and felt awkward. “You were having a nightmare.” Logan checked her over. He never really forgave himself for bruising her the first time. “I’m fine. Are you, my friend?”

“Yeah... What the hell were you thinking coming over here like that? Remember what happened to Marie?” he grouched.

“I was calming you down before you hurt yourself,” she retorted, starting to get angry. The jerk couldn’t accept her kindness at a time like this!

“I could’ve hurt you!” he shot back.

“And you didn’t, Logan!” she snarled. She waved a hand in front of him. Anger wouldn’t get anything accomplished and she knew that’s what he was looking for. Anger was an easy out. “I’m fine. Really. But are you?”

“Peachy.”

“Lying doesn’t change how things are, Logan.” He slumped back down to her couch and rubbed the crick in his neck. “Would you like a pillow?” she kindly asked.

“What makes you think I’m staying in here?”

She walked to her closet and grabbed a spare pillow. “Nothing. I’m simply offering.” She fluffed the white pillow. “You can always say no. I won’t be offended.”

For a second he considered going to his room. It would salvage his ego of having this embarrassing moment. But what was the point of that? She’d already seen it and knew he had nightmares anyway; at least this time the rest of the mansion didn’t hear him. Maybe when he finished her house he could take a room. No, he didn’t want to go back to his solitary room. Logan was safe here.

“Ya got a spare toothbrush in here?” Ororo placed the over fluffed pillow on her bed and wandered to her bathroom. She looked under her counter and pulled out a plastic wrapped toothbrush. Nothing special but it would get the job done. “Thanks.”

“You can shower in here if you’d like. I’ll go to your room and get you some pajamas. If it’s okay with you?” He nodded, ripping open the packaging. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Ororo walked down the halls, amazed at how quiet the mansion could get at night. Since the excitement settled some, she could process what happened. She saw the Wolverine. How thrilling! She was also concerned. This was the thing Logan hid away and she’d just seen it, spoken to it. Or... Spoken to by it. Mine. What could that possibly mean? It involved her, obviously. She was the only one in the room. Unless he’d been dreaming. Wolverine often yelled things in his dreams.

This was different though. She wasn’t sure how many times he’d gone... whatever it was, but this was definitely the first time anyone had seen it in the mansion. She could be wrong, Professor might have seen his animalistic side. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was sound asleep, she’d barge into his room and ask him. Asking Logan would invariably bother him. She would wait.

There weren’t any pajamas, but boxers and shirts. Ororo grabbed a pair of flannel boxers-- he owned a lot of flannel!-- and a grey workout shirt. She walked back upstairs, briefly checking the rooms to make sure they were asleep.

When he asked if she was hurt, he asked with so much fear in his eyes. The Beast hadn’t harmed her, but if he feared it, perhaps it harmed others. Wolverine’s eyes were so black... That was the lasting image. The darkness of his eyes. It was... Rage. Pure and unadulterated rage. She could see why someone would want to test him, not that she would, but the totality of it was incredible.

When she arrived at her room, he was showering. The door was unlocked. She crept inside, placed the clothes on the counter, then sneaked back out without looking. As if she could! The water was running on scalding, the steam so thick she could barely see in front of her. She checked her digital clock. It was three fifty six in the morning. She could fall back asleep, but it would prove difficult. She crawled back under her thick duvet and punched her pillow when she noticed the snacks were still on her coffee table. Rising to her feet once more with an annoyed groan, she gathered the snacks and beer cans, then hurrying to the kitchen before ants and roaches were attracted.

By the time she returned, Logan was sitting in her bed. She would’ve kicked him out if it wasn’t for the fact that he was holding the pillow she fluffed and looking so dejected. Biting her inner cheek, she crawled into bed beside him. They stayed that way for a moment, not speaking. Finally, she took the pillow from his hands, placed it behind him, and wrapped her arms around his bulky frame, gently rubbing his arms and smoothing his signature twin peaks. They laid back, his solid arms around her tiny body, his head cuddled to her bosom. Eventually, he fell asleep.

Logan didn’t have the chance to visit Chuck. To accommodate the fact that someone was coming to the grounds, drills were run fairly early with the few kids in the mansion. Several went back home to families and friends, but a majority remained. Logan was happy to run drills, wanting to work on hand to hand combat based on how poor their skills were. Afterwards, they ran a couple miles, showered, and headed for lunch. The entire time Logan wished they’d played powers- allowed football.

Around two fifteen a knock came to the door. Logan answered. A man in his late thirties with mousy brown hair appeared smelling like asphalt and spicy aftershave. “I’m Eliot Constable, here to check out the house. Have I got the wrong one? This was the address given--”

“Storm!” he barked. “The guy’s here!” Logan stepped aside, letting him in.

Descending the stairs in a strappy white sundress that fell midthigh, Ororo appeared, looking too beautiful for words. Thankfully, Logan wasn’t poetic and just took in the vision. Her hair was slightly wild, falling in beach waves, her lips were rosy from pressing kisses to booboos, and the white made her skin glow beautifully. And it would’ve been okay that she look so damn gorgeous if it wasn’t for the prick standing next to him.

The loser reeked of male arousal the second she showed up. He cleared his throat and enthusiastically stuck his hand out for her to take it. Once she grabbed it, he nearly broke her arm shaking it. At least he didn’t kiss her hand, Logan would’ve punched the sleaze. “Hello, Mr. Constable--”

“--Please, call me Eliot.”

“Eliot,” she experimented. “Thank you for coming out. The house is actually around back. Another man will be with us shortly, but if you would follow me?”

“Gladly.”

Logan invited himself, pissed with the cretin and how he was looking at Ororo’s ass. And as if it couldn’t get bad enough, the douche bag smelled like another woman-- Logan guessed he was dating someone seriously. If this guy was a sampler for coming events, Logan wouldn’t be able to last without knocking some heads and putting his six best friends to use. Storm, of course, didn’t even notice it. Without stop, she rambled on and on about what she wanted and what a lovely house it was with immense possibilities.

“It sure is,” Eliot remarked. Wolverine wasn’t sure if he was talking about the house or her. Logan growled at him, drawing his eyes from her posterior and two spaces away from Logan. “This is a school for mutants, right? Am I to assume you’re a mutant?” he asked, walking closer to Storm.

“I am,” she said, tucking a strand of pure white hair behind her ear. Ororo reached for the door only to be cut off by Logan. He grabbed the rusty knob for her, unwilling to let her scratch herself on it. He’d heal from an infection before it could start. “Thank you, Wolverine.”

Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “Codenames, right? So if he’s Wolverine, what are you? Foxy?” he tried lamely. Ororo’s smile widened, her mirth apparent. “Am I close?” he joked.

“Hardly, though I thank you for the compliment. You may call me Storm or Ms. Munroe. Shall we proceed?”

In relative silence, they moved around the house. Ororo showed him points of interest, and Logan duly noted them. The floor was rotted, the roof needed to be redone, there were mice and other pests in the woodwork, the plumbing was rusty, and the electrical was dangerous at best, but the house wasn’t a tear down. He could see what she wanted to do and felt a kindredness with her; his cabin was sort of the same if she was going for a slightly rustic look. Pieces of his cabin could be incorporated here while still leaving it one hundred percent Ororo.

At the end of the tour, she smiled excitedly, the first emotional display towards the pervert. “Well, what do you think?”

Having been in the kitchen, he walked around, wiping his finger on the plastic counter top. Those had to go, Logan noted, marble or granite. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Munroe, but a project like this will require extensive work.”

Extensive? Logan snorted. Storm jabbed him in the side when Eliot turned away.

“But you can do it, right?” she asked, shifting from Wolverine’s grasp. He’d been tickling her ribs. She administered another jab.

“Sure I can,” he shrugged, facing her. “It would be a pleasure Mrs. Munroe.”

“It’s Miss, and thank you.”

“Miss, really? I figured a woman as beautiful as you would be with a man,” the sleaze tried.

Logan growled once more, startling the man. Ororo was startled when a heavy arm was wrapped possessively around her shoulders. “She is, so back off,” he snarled. An annoyed look crossed her face, but she didn’t say anything. Not yet, at least. Logan was almost certain she was going to scream at him later.

“Oh, I had no idea the house was for the two of you,” he quickly changed. “I figured--”

“What’d ya figure, Bub?” he snapped, having too much fun toying with him. “Why’d ya think I came along? Ta chaperone?” She reached behind him and pinched his back. Logan refused to react, but grinned, wanting to drive the nail in the bastard’s coffin. “Yeah, darlin’? Something ya wanna say?”

Ororo’s eyes squinted. “Not yet.” She attempted to move from his grasp but it increased. Looking for a way out, she grinned. “Charles! So good to see you,” she smiled, shoving Wolverine aside. She glided past a glum looking Eliot to an entirely too amused Charles. She felt completely outnumbered in her plight.

“Storm, my dear. Are you and Wolverine happy with the man I’ve chosen for you?” he grinned, not bothering at all to hide his humor. His smile dropped for a second, then he exchanged a look with Wolverine. Storm didn’t miss it, but she didn’t pry. “Storm, my dear, could you walk Mr. Constable to the front? Mr. Constable, I’ll call you back when the couple decides.”

Eliot nodded, eager to get away from the growling man and be near the gorgeous Storm, not that he’d try anything. He swore the hairy man sniffed him earlier. “No problem. Ms. Munroe?”

The two of them walked off, leaving Wolverine and Charles. Once either was out of earshot, Logan spoke. “I don’t want him working near her. That fucker--”

“Logan, I do not wish for him to work around Ororo, either. His thoughts are less than businesslike, although they did include a desk.” Logan became even more pissed. “However, he is the only man who was willing to work for mutants, and Ororo is used to men being attracted to her; she is quite beautiful.”

Both things were true. Anti-mutant hate seemed to be at an all time high. Nobody wanted to be around them and Logan thought about how when he went to the store with Ororo. No one bothered to help her. The cashier didn’t even know her and treated her callously. But that didn’t mean people didn’t look at her. Logan had to shower away the smell of arousal she garnered, it was disgusting. Ororo got more stares and pants than Jean did on a good day. It didn’t mean he liked the truth.

“I’ll do it. I’m good with my hands.”

Charles’ eyes narrowed. “You’ll build Ororo’s house.” It wasn’t a question. “May I inquire as to why?”

Logan shifted his weight. “It’ll keep me busy.”

Charles clasped his hands. “We shall finish discussing this later. I believe there is something else, something unrelated we need to discuss. Meet me in my office after dinner.”


Ororo sat in the library reading to a small group of children, none older than seven and the youngest being four. Her heart went out to the four children, their mutation manifested at birth and they were cast aside without thought. The youngest sat in her lap, helping her flip the pages when she finished. Each time, she affectionately kissed his golden head-- his mutation made his skin the color of the precious metal. He nuzzled his head into her breast, and for a moment, she was reminded of last night.

When she returned from the kitchen, she’d never seen him looking so sad. When she held him, for a moment she believed he would cry. Ororo knew he wasn’t always so brash, but she’d never expected him to be so vulnerable like that. She could’ve banished him from her bed and brought to light what happened, but it wouldn’t be worth it. He needed someone in that moment.

A small flicker of love started for him, and she understood a little bit of what he’d been trying to communicate that night in the bar. He was scared of being alone. There was nothing wrong with being alone, but when it translated into loneliness, it hurt. It made sense he was so attached to Rouge, she was there for him and it gave him an outlet for the love he wanted to give and receive. With Rouge, he wouldn’t be so hopelessly alone.

It was Jean that she was still working on. She understood the basics, but not the entire reason.

“Ms. Munroe?” asked a girl named Delilah. Her eyes, much like Gambit’s, were completely black.

She resumed reading.

Where was he anyway? She assumed he’d be making a trip to Harry’s after a day like today. Which reminded her, she needed to remind him that his behavior, while funny, was not acceptable. It wouldn’t do for him to lie about something like that. She was capable of handling men on her own. But it was nice to feel wanted, to have a man touch her, even if for pretend.

Yes, she was attracted to Logan. It would be moot and a lie to say Ororo wasn’t attracted to the resident legend. How could she not be? He wasn’t conventionally handsome like Scott was, but it was rugged. Dangerous, even. Those muscles were as much for show as they were for beating a man to a pulp. His square jaw reminded her of the movie stars in the fifties, and she would have loved to pepper the scruffy surface with kisses. And that fabulous mouth! Lips like those were meant to be kissed and she had no doubt he was an excellent kisser. She’d have to ask Jean...

Licking her lips and turning the page, she suddenly felt jealous of her sister, an emotion she hadn’t felt for a long time. The second Logan stepped inside the house, he slobbered after her. For the most part, Wolverine was Jean’s shadow, always trying to get her to be a fallen woman. He was in love with her. She couldn’t fault the emotion, but she despised the action.

While Scott would always be number one, Jean confided in Ororo that she liked the attention he gave her. She knew it was foolish, but her pride thrilled at each glance, every tease, and “accidental” touch. It was promised that she’d never betray Scott like that, especially with Logan, but she’d always like the attention.

Jean would always be Logan’s number one, so it would be best Storm her to bury the slight attraction she had to him.

When the story ended, the little golden boy sitting in her lap was sound asleep and the students were in various stages of sleep. Her heart began to swell. Ororo often wondered what it would be like if she could one day add her own children to the group on the floor. It was part of the reason she wanted her own house so badly. She wasn’t sure when, but one day she’d love to have her own children.

Without putting Joshua down, she balanced his tiny body on her hip and overstepped the children to put the book away. Ororo walked back, gently woke the children, and sent them to bed. Joshua refused to be put down. Not that she minded, he was so adorable.

The thought of having kids was something she’d stopped having for a long time. She was a superhero and her life was picking up. She was only twenty six and slowing down would be... unthinkable. She wanted a family, but she’d be risking their life for nothing.They’d most likely be mutants and with how the world was now their lives would be that much harder. Ororo liked her lifestyle, not that it didn’t have room for change. A companion would be nice, but that would change her as well. It did once.

Ororo tucked him in and stood watching him for a moment. She couldn’t have kids, but she could love the ones without mothers as if they were her own.

When Ororo settled in to fall asleep, her bed felt oddly empty.


It was totally black outside, riddled with blackened skies. Charles considered a conversation like this needed a flare of the dramatic. For one, Wolverine was sitting in a defensive stance, his ears twitching every time someone walked by the hall. Charles made it clear to everyone he was not to be bothered, but that wasn’t something that stopped Logan’s paranoia.

“Walk me through what you remember from the dream.”

Wolverine bowed his head, his eyes shut. Even with one sense down, his body was on high alert. It always was whenever he and Charles had these conversation. Wolverine believed it was crucial to the memory, helping him submerge himself completely. But even then, it helped only a little. Things like names and places and dates were always impossible to recall.

“I was in a hallway. Not the one where they submerged me, this was... Different. Not a dignitary's place, but definitely owned by one. Not American. Maybe... I dunno. Some of the shit was Japanese. A woman screamed, but I can’t figure if she was dying or what.” Wolverine clenched his hand until his knuckles went white. Charles leaned forward, waiting. “The dream changed after I fired a round. Simple firearm, maybe government issued... I think a Grande Puissance 35.”

Charles nodded. “Before we begin the other sequence, did the screaming start before or after the shot? Or was it continuous?”

Wolverine cleared his head, focusing. “After. Before it was silent.”

“Did anyone know you were there?”

Wolverine shook his head once more. The details weren’t coming clearly, but he figured if he was running maybe somebody knew. He didn’t go there of his own free will. Anyone labeled as such doesn’t have a choice. Wolverine growled.

“What do you remember?”

Another low growl formed. “I was on an operating table, but I wasn’t being operated on. They were seeing how long it would take fer my healing factor ta stop making blood. It was...” Wolverine hesitated, his brows furrowed. “I was about to pass out. I think that’s what they wanted.”

“Why?”

“So my survival instinct would kick in. So he’d come out.” Wolverine tapped his chest. “And it wasn’t happening fast enough. I got an injection. That started it.”

Charles swallowed thickly. “Did you wake up?”

Wolverine shook his head. “I was trapped in it. I wasn’t coming out like I normally do. I could feel him clawing. There was gonna be blood.”

“Going to?”

“I-I-I smelled rain,” he stuttered. His fists tightly clenched and slowly released. “I came out of the dream feral. I didn’t do nothing; Storm reacted too quickly.” Wolverine fought back the beast who was clawing at his sanity for having to remember the dream. “She brought me back, but not before.”

“Before what?” Charles asked sharply.

“He said something to her.”

“What, Wolverine?”

The use of the name brought the memory back. The man fought, holding onto the last dregs of his humanity. He didn’t want to bring forth the beast while in the mansion. If he did, it had to be in the danger room. Wolverine only made an appearance in fights or the wilds of Canada or the little woods out back. Right now was extremely dangerous, especially with Storm so near. Oh, shit. Just thinking about her brought it out. He couldn’t stop it, but it felt so natural. “Mine.”

Charles cleared his throat. “Logan, do you know why you said that?” schooling his voice. “Logan?”

Upon hearing his name, Logan beat the beast back. It was the man in control now. It was safe. “It’s alright, it’s me.” Logan rubbed his face, emotionally exhausted. “I can’t say I know. It’s new to even me.”

“You’ve never heard Wolverine say ‘mine?’”

“It’s the first time he’s spoken to anyone and let them live. I wanna say it’s good, but you know how he is.” Logan rubbed his face.

“You should speak to Storm. You’ll need to know what she did. Perhaps you can use it in the future--”

“Fuck no!” he started. “It worked once, but who’s ta say he’ll be as easily won next time?”

“I would attempt it, Logan. Whether you realize it or not, ‘mine’ is a title and Wolverine gave it to her. You want to understand your bestial side, perhaps Ororo can help. It’s a conversation worth having,” Charles said, his voice rising to counteract Logan’s yelling. He was leaving the room. “Do it, Logan, if for no one else than do it for Ororo. She saw it and needs to know.”

Logan stopped at the door, his hand frozen in midair. He needed out of the house. Now.



There were a series of squeals. Scott clapped his hands over his ears, causing Jean to playfully shove him and Ororo to laugh. “You’re so tan!” she remarked, holding Jean’s arm out. It was true. Her normally pale friend was at least three shades darker and far more giggly. Scott was also tanner, but was sporting an awkward sunglasses tan. Ororo couldn’t help but laugh when she saw it.

“You can laugh all you want, but I just spent a month with the most amazing woman ever. No offense, Ororo,” he supplied, taking Jean by the waist and pulling her into a kiss.

“None taken. I’m glad you feel that way, though. It would be pretty awkward if you didn’t,” Ororo joked, receiving a hearty laugh from Scott. “I hope you two took pictures. I want to know if Hawaii is as beautiful as it sounds.”

Jean took Ororo’s arm and led her down the hall. “It really is, Ororo. The beaches are really that sandy and the water is really that blue. And the weather! Oh, you’d just love it. I can’t imagine finding a lovelier place, although I hear Spain is nice. Maybe for our anniversary?” she trailed off, winking at Scott.

“Pfft! Maybe the tenth, but not next year. That’s way too much money and it’ll give me enough time to learn how to ask where the bathroom is,” he retorted. Ororo let out a bark of laughter. “It’s great there, Ro. It’s amazing.”

“Most islands are,” interrupted a rude voice. Appearing for the first time in fifteen hours was Logan, his hair a mess and leather jacket on despite the heat. “Slim. Red.”

“Logan,” Scott greeted tersely.

“Logan!” Jean smiled, taking him into a hug. “So nice to see you.”

Logan pat her back once then pulled away, folding his arms to his massive chest. Ororo cast him a raised brow; somehow she knew he’d spent the last couple hours either drinking, fighting, or seducing women. She hoped he didn’t hit the trifecta... “Good to see you, too. Both, actually. Maybe now Ro can enjoy her summer vacation.”

Scott slapped his forehead. “I nearly forgot to thank you for that, Storm. Was it too difficult?”

Ororo waved a hand, dismissing his worries. “Oh, not really. Some problems here and there. Nothing serious.”

“Do I want to question that?” Jean asked good-naturedly.

“Trust me. It’s actually been easier because of Logan. He’s been a huge help--”

“Yeah, I heard,” bit Scott. He turned his red gaze to Logan. “Heard some other stuff, too.”

Logan glared back, taking a defensive pose. “Ya wanna tell me what that was?”

“I think you already know--”

“Scott, would you take the bags to our room?” Jean intercepted.

“Logan, I need your help with something. It’ll take just a second,” Ororo quickly said, taking Jean’s cue. There was no need for the testosterone levels to reach a high just yet. It was only one o’clock.

Logan relaxed and tersely nodded. “Sure, darlin’. Whatever ya say. ‘S good seeing ya, Jean.” Logan was yanked away from the fight he was definitely rearing to have by a small hand clasped to his wrist. Out from the house he was led, all the way to her greenhouse. He was actually sort of amused by her attempts to remove him from the scene, and didn’t fight her... until he was inside and faced with a severely pissed off female. “Hey, Ro. How ya been?”

“Where did you run off to last night?” Ororo folded her arms under her chest and rested her weight on one hip.

Logan stopped himself from smiling. She was so cute angry he almost didn’t take her seriously. “Out.”

“Don’t pull childish moves, Logan. And don’t. Make. Me. Repeat myself.”

Logan shrugged his shoulders. “I went to Harry’s and then went to this thing. After that I went to a motel to crash. And before you ask-- no, it wasn’t with a woman. Not fer lack of trying, anyway.”

Ororo pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do I want to know the explanation to that?” she asked, exasperated.

Logan stuck his lower lip out in contemplation. “Eh. Depends if you wanna know where I went after Harry’s.” Ororo snapped her head up becoming angrier. “Okay, fine. I saw this brunette sitting alone and I figured I’d talk ta her. Next thing I know, the boyfriend comes outta the john and I’m fighting him and his friends. There were six guys, but not a problem for the Wolverine.” He paused and puffed up his chest, smirking. “I’m on my way out when this guy calls me over and tells me ‘bout some fights in this warehouse. I check ‘em out and find the winner gets a six thousand dollar cash prize for beating every contestant. So, of course I had to enter.” Logan opened his leather jacket and revealed a bloody tank top. Ororo was torn between praying the blood wasn’t his and hoping it was. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “I won, obviously. I spent sixty on a motel and a couple twenties on beer and food.” He paused. “That’s it.”

Ororo scoffed. “That’s it? Am I supposed to be proud of you? You left in the middle of the night without letting anyone know! You know that’s a bad thing. You could’ve been kidnapped, Wolverine. And those fights? You could’ve seriously hurt someone!”

“That was the point of the cage match, darlin’. Weren’t ya paying any attention?” he joked.

“Cage match?” she nearly shrieked. “Your bones are metal!” The sky boomed in response, emphasizing her point. “What were you thinking?”

Logan smirked. “That I wanted to win six thousands dollars.”

She palmed her face and groaned. “You’re insufferable. I’m not happy with what you’ve done.”

Logan tucked the money in his pocket and swooped in to kiss her cheek. “Ah, but ya love me,” he smiled, rubbing his cheek against hers. “Say it. Ya know you wanna.”

Ororo groaned and pulled away. “No, I don’t! And I have yet to reprimand you about your little display in the hallway with Scott--”

“Display? Reprimand?” he repeated. “Ro, nothing happened so there’s nothing to reprimand me for.”

“I beg to differ.” She folded her arms under her chest. “For Jean’s sake, please refrain from fighting with him.”

Logan saw an open. “But if it doesn’t bother Jean you’ll be fine with it?”

Ororo glowered. “Of course not. I’d rather you leave him alone.” she stared at him, her eyes frosting at the edges. “Do not push me, Logan, I’m reaching my wit’s end.”

Logan cocked his head, concerned. “I won’t. What’s wrong, Ro? Ya sick or something?”

She gave a hollow laugh. It sounded... Sad. “Or something.” Ororo took in a calming breath and gave him a weak smile. “Six thousand dollars, huh? What do you plan on doing with all that money?”

Logan gathered her in his arms and held him close to his chest. Poor Ro, she really did put everyone’s needs before her own. Like she had the night before, he rubbed his hands along her back and slowed his breathing. When she finally calmed hers and the skies quit their black color, he released her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be good. I promise.”


Ororo could finally go straight to bed after dinner. And tonight, she planned on soaking in her tub. Lighting some aromatherapy candles, filling the tub with warm water and relaxing sandalwood bath salts, Ororo walked to her iHome, turned on some soft music, put on her mint facial mask, poured herself a glass of aromatic red wine, and finally sank into the water. She groaned, releasing the tension she wasn’t aware had been building. It was perfect.

She took a sip of the white wine, placed the glass down, and picked up her loofa sponge. If she could spend forever in her bath, it still wouldn’t be enough to release the tension. A massage was a good place to start. Ororo would have to ask Charles if she could take a spa day. When she went with Jean a few years back, she’d gotten a mud bath, a facial, and a hot rock massage. The mud bath was interesting, the facial she adored-- she bought a jar of the green mask and was wearing it now-- but the massage was the highlighter for her. Years of tension were wiped away in an hour.

Ororo picked her shaver up and began smoothing it over her legs. Not that there was anyone to feel her legs, but she loved keeping them sexy and smooth. The same with her sex, though that was more a necessity. Her X suit was more like a swim suit than an actual suit. She had to make sure her vagina was shaved and waxed, with the exception of her landing strip.

A soft sigh escaped her lips and Ororo picked up her glass. Maybe part of her tension was sexual. Oh, who was she kidding? It was definitely sexual. She wasn’t a virgin and while she wasn’t a prude, picking up strange men to scratch an itch felt weird. She couldn’t be like Logan and be with a random person. But, oh, if the thought of being touched didn’t make her wet. Ororo had had sex once, but it was still one of the more magical moments in her life-- separate from the following heartache. Ororo took another sip, hummed her sigh, and returned to her shaving.

It was funny she was so tense. Ororo had taken to masturbation, something she kept secret from even Jean. It felt weird, but the short orgasms made up for it. Sort of. She had no doubt that if she had something a little more powerful than her fingers she’d get the orgasms she dreamed of. She just couldn’t bring herself to go to a sex shop and buy a Rabbit. Yes, she even knew which one she wanted.

She finished shaving and started soaping her skin. Eliot was cute; it was nice being flirted with. And then Logan had to go and ruin it! What was his problem? He could flirt with other women but she couldn’t get a single guy to acknowledge she had a pair of breasts? She was tired of being ignored! Jean couldn’t get all the attention. There was a time she thought she was beautiful. Back when Forge was around. Who knew seven years could go by so quickly?

Ororo drained her glass and the tub. She channeled a wind to blow out the candles, rinsed her facial off and brushed her teeth. She then perched on the side of the tub, smoothing vanilla scented shea butter on her skin, she worked the last of what the bath could not out of her skin. Maybe later tonight she’d toy with her clit while listening to some mood music. She grinned at the thought. Ororo glanced at her counter and realized she’d left her silk nightie in her room. She stepped from her bathroom sanctuary, clad in her luxurious fluffy white bath towel.

“Damn, Ro, I thought ya died in there.”

“Logan!” she shrieked, hiding her face in her hands. “Goddess!”

Logan laughed, leaning back in her bed. “Ya trying ta make me deaf or hard? Because yer doing a damn good job at both.” When she peeked, that stupid cock-sure grin that peeved Ororo made an appearance.

She collected herself, holding her towel tighter to her body. “What in the goddess’ name are you doing in my bed?” Shirtless to boot.

Logan gave her a pointed look. “Waiting fer you so I can go ta sleep. Ya wanna put on some clothes on cuz I wasn’t lying about that hard thing.” Ororo hastily grabbed a her nightie and returned to her bathroom, tugged it on, and came back out, livid. “I’m starting to think ya want me hard, Roro.”

She reached up and pulled her hair from the bun she’d gathered it in. It tumbled out, making her look far too good for words. When Logan came up here, he didn’t expect this. He was joking at first, but damn... His dick began to swell. He watched her walk to her vanity and began brushing her glorious mane. He watched, slightly fascinated at how amazing it looked. Red was nice, but white was exotic.

I couldn’t agree more.

“Did you hear me? I asked--”

“I heard ya, darlin’. It’s part of the reason why I’m in here. My room’s too close ta the newlyweds and I don’t wanna know what Scooter sounds like. Matter of fact, I don’t even wanna know what Jeanie sounds like. C’me’re, I’ll braid ya.” Ororo nodded and walked to the bed, giving him her back. He took the cloud soft hair in his hands and immediately began braiding the waist length hair. “If it’s alright with you, I’d much rather hear you snore.”

“I don’t snore,” she replied indignant. “And yes, I won’t mind you sleeping in my room.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, neck and shoulder. “Thank you, Ororo. I’ll make it up ta ya,” he rumbled into her shoulder. He pressed another lingering kiss on her shoulder and ignored his animal’s curiosity to lick her skin. “But, yeah, you snore.” He laid his head there for a moment, and began running his hands down the length of her arms. The thought of her naked in her tub was the dominant image in his mind while she was in there, but holding her and knowing how good she smelled, seeing her in that sexy little nightie, and feeling her smooth skin changed it a bit. What did she look like naked? The glimpses he got were tantalizing, but to actually see her naked would be great. Licking his lips, be wondered what her pussy looked like. Would it be--

“Mm, you have wonderful hands,” she purred.

He startled. “Hadn’t noticed.” Did he? Logan hated his hands. They had blood he could never wash away. He trailed them from her arms to rest on her shoulders and pressed his thumbs into her back. She arched into his touch, all but turning into a pile of goo.

She took her braid and moved it from her back to allow him more room. “They’re amazing,” she moaned. Logan began to knead her back more thoroughly, loving the flesh he was offered. Damn, she felt good to touch. He’d always been tactile, needing to touch, something nobody really knew. It had a lot to do with his over-sensitized flesh. It came in handy for a lot of things, like when he was fucking. But now, it was useful for something as simple as a massage.
But ya never know. He sniffed the air. There was another scent. It smelled like...arousal.

“Hey, Storm? Can I talk to you for a second?” Scott called from her door. Ororo gasped as if caught doing something. Wolverine snarled for ruining the moment. “Storm?” he asked concerned.

“Just- just a second, Scott.” She removed herself from Logan’s grasp and hurried to her closet, grabbing her robe. Logan rolled his eyes and laid back on her bed, crossing his arms behind his head, looking like he’d just gotten laid. And considering how hard he was getting, he probably should. However, he’d never forced a woman, if they came, they had to come willingly and plenty of times.

She opened the door to a slightly disheveled looking Scott in pajamas. “Hey, I-- what is he doing in here?” he scowled.

“Me an’ Ro are about ta have a sleepover. Invite only,” he smirked, completely at ease with how it all looked.

Scott pushed Ororo aside and stormed inside. “No you’re not. You need to get the hell out of here. I can’t believe this, Storm,” he shouted. “The man nearly breaks your arms and you’re willing to sleep with him? What’s wrong with you?” He grabbed her wrist and shook it.

Wolverine leapt from the bed and took Ororo from Scott, pushing her behind his bulky frame. “You outta yer fucking mind? Don’t ya ever grab Ro like that,” he snarled, his chest vibrating with a warning growl.

“Oh, but you’re allowed? Hank told me if you gripped a little harder you would’ve broken her arms, Wolverine!” Scott shouted, holding his stance.

Wolverine snarled. Of course he knew that. He hated that he hurt her, but he’d be damned if this ass hole reminded him. “It was an accident--”

“Much like everything else about you?” Scott retorted.

“Enough!” Storm boomed. “Logan, go back to bed. Scott, outside. Now!” As ordered, Logan stepped back, albeit slowly. Scott moved to the door, his red gaze on Wolverine. It seemed the hours between their first meeting did nothing to dissipate the fight they both wanted to have. Ugh, Ororo could feel her head becoming heavy with a headache. Once the door closed, she motioned for Scott to follow her. She could bet good money that Logan was listening on her every move.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Scott unfolded his arms. “Why’s he up there, Storm?”

She held a hand up to him. “While I do not feel it’s necessary to explain, he is in my room to go to sleep.”

“You have a couch, Storm. Let him sleep on the couch.”

“As it is my room I shall do as I please, though your recommendation is duly noted.” She narrowed her cattish eyes at him. “Why were you at my room so late?”

Scott gave her a leveled look. “I wanted to invite you to breakfast. Jean and I are heading to this vegetarian place she read about and we both figured it would be a nice gesture. You know, to make up for the fact that we robbed you of your summer.” Ororo gave him a suspicious look. He let out a defeated sigh. “I guess I should have asked in the morning. I wasn’t thinking.”

Ororo put a hand to Scott’s shoulder, guiding him in the direction his room was. “No, you weren’t. Thank you for offering; I’ll consider it.” Something popped into her head. “Make sure you apologize to Logan in the morning, Scott. What you said was very rude and uncalled for.”

Scott threw up his arms. “He put his hands on you and you’re still making me apologize? I’m not just going to let something like that slide. Neither should you!” he said in a harsh voice.

Ororo glared at him. “I did not just let it “slide,” Scott. I made sure he heard my piece about it. But you called him a mistake, and you know how often mutants hear that.” Glancing around the hallway, she stepped closer. “You want him on our side and yet you distance him. Don’t live up to your monicker, Scott.” Ororo pointed to his door. “Good night.”


When she returned to her room, Logan was sitting on her terrace, puffing a cigar. Assuming he’d had it in his jeans the entire time, Ororo wordlessly joined him. Instead of starting the conversation, she hopped up on the ledge and looked up at the moon, watching the beams scatter along the lawn through black clouds. It would be a nice night to go cloud dancing, her previous flight lesson non withstanding. She felt a pair of eyes on her and glanced at him, not bothering to smile. It would feel... Mocking if she did.

“I really am sorry that I hurt ya like that.”

Ororo nodded. “I know.”

He snorted. “No, ya don’t.” He took another drag and let the smoke fill the night sky.

She fell silent, not sure how to respond. “You are not a mistake, Logan.”

With a noncommittal shrug, he made a noise in the back of his throat. “No, I’m an animal, too.”

Oh, someone wanted to brood. If he wanted a pity-party, it was going to be just him. She dropped down from the ledge, pausing. A sudden stroke of genius hit her and there was no way she would pass it up. Gently lying a hand on his shoulder, she looked into his eyes, her face somber. “Prove it.” She walked past him, fully aware his eyes were on her. She walked to her closet, completely ignoring him, and hanged her bathrobe up. Then, with total savagery, she pulled her braid from its hold, sprinted towards him, past him, onto the ledge!... and jumped.

She heard him roar her name as she fell several stories. Just as her proximity to the earth was too close to ignore, she channeled a wind and flew up, laughing. Oh, this was a perfect night to be out. Moving higher and higher until level with a frantic looking Wolverine, her heart raced. She floated closer to him, her left leg slightly bent at the knee. “You say you’re an animal? Then hunt me down. Catch me, Wolverine.”

“You outta yer fucking mind, Storm?” he barked. Was everyone losing their minds in the mansion tonight? “Ya could’ve died just then!”

Laughter filled the space between them. “Prove to me you are not all talk. Catch me.”

“No.”

Ororo cocked and eyebrow. “Afraid of a challenge?” A flash of anger lit his eyes. “Catch me, Wolverine.”

She’d been running for about twenty minutes, her heart ready to burst from her chest. He almost caught her a few times-- three, to be exact. It dawned on her that Wolverine was toying with her, showing he’d catch her when he was ready to call the game quits, but so far he was enjoying himself. Originally, Ororo flew amongst the trees, not wanting to disturb the ground, but he would follow the breeze. No, if she wanted to get somewhere, she had to move into the deepest part of the woods and stake him out. So far, that was proving difficult.

Having little practice in reading the ground, she couldn’t tell if the fallen branch came from him or from being old. When this was over, she’d ask him to teach her how to track better. It could prove useful. But each time the tree leaves rustled and a twig snapped, her head snapped in its direction and she’d kick her heels up. She spotted him from the corner of her eyes once, crouched beside a boulder that had no business being in woods.

A breeze that wasn’t her own whipped through the trees and Ororo considered putting it to an end, when she remembered how he followed her winds. She gathered several more, moving them in all directions. There! That ought to confuse him. She would have laughed if it wasn’t for the fact that he could hear her. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she hurried towards a clearing nearby. Not the smartest move, but she needed to rest her feet.

It was in the heart of the woods, something that made Ororo smile. The grass was soft and without really caring anymore, she dropped onto the earth, knowing she’d probably never wear this nightie again. It was ripped in places anyways. Note to self, wear shoes when you do this again. If you do it again. she thought, rubbing her feet. It felt so good, she let out a soft mewl of relief. The second she realized she’d stopped her winds and made a noise, she stood, running faster than her feet would previously allow towards the lake. She could cover her scent easily in the depths. The water was so close...

Ororo registered the hulking body mowing her over seconds later.

When she stopped rolling-- which (admittedly) was a few seconds later-- she felt huge, playful hands pin her down by the wrists. “Gotcha!”

Her heart raced in her chest, too startled to be amused. After catching her nonexistent breath, she smiled weakly. “Only because I stopped for a break.”

Wolverine snorted, applied a little more pressure to her wrists then pulled up, laughing. He was shirtless and in his jeans: zipped, but the clasp left undone. He wasn’t sweating, and once again, she envied his feeling factor. It wasn’t fair that she was a mess while the only thing out of place for him was his hair, and his hair was always a mess. “Liar.” He winked knowingly.

With new room to move, she sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and standing on weak legs. “Care for a dip?” she asked, already moving towards the lake. He followed, then picked her up caveman style, grinning. “Logan, what--”

“Ya looked a little tired.”

“I am capable of walking-- hey!” He smacked her bottom. “What was that for?”

“Ya say ya want me to be nice and then ya don’t let me do the nice things.”

Ororo fell silent, considering his words, when she remembered she was being carried caveman style. “Yes, but did you have to carry me this way?”

He huffed. “Damn, woman, accept that this is happening before I drop yer ass in the lake.”

She huffed. “You will do no such thing!”

It was a bit anticlimactic, but he didn’t, letting Storm down right as the water brushed against his toes. She thanked him, pulling her nightie off, momentarily forgetting the customs of Western culture and nudity hang ups. Swimming in the water, she heard fabric rustling and became aware he was planning on joining her. The stirrings from earlier came back, and she quickly drove them away. While she didn’t have any hangups about nudity, she’d been in America long enough to know other Westerners didn’t just get naked in the sight of another person without peeking. That was her problem. Knowing he’d peeked. It was foolish, but she suddenly felt modest.

He didn’t stray far into the water, his skeleton made swimming a bit of a challenge. With each forceful stroke, the still waters churned, making way for the beast of a man chasing the nymph from the woods. Ororo ducked her head from the splash, something he missed while underwater. When he came up, he was beside her, kicking his feet to stay afloat. It was a weird way to spend his night, but it beat going to Harry’s watering hole and spending a few hours between a barfly’s thighs only to return alone. Sex with a pretty woman was nice, but nobody could brag about skinny dipping with the Ororo Munroe.

Keeping himself in check, he followed when she dipped her head and swam a distance from him. When she first started pulling off that joke of a sleeping gown, he felt himself stiffen. Yeah, he knew she didn’t have the same inhibitions as everyone else, but he did not expect to get that scenic view of her back. He cursed the fact that she wasn’t in the mood for a panoramic shot. All things considered, when he said he wanted to get away from his room, he never anticipated the night ending like this. It involved her-- yes, feeling sullen--yes, but not having a confrontation with Scott and not tracking his wintry goddess.

No, he wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t understand how awful he felt. He followed her languid strokes, finding the pace easy on his heavy frame. Laying his hands on a woman outside of combat was never his thing. In fact, he beat up several guys over the same thing, and yet he’d bruised someone he liked. Genuinely liked. First impressions were incorrect, and yet many of his assumptions were correct. He’d seen her as cold and proud. Well, she wasn’t cold-- it took some getting used to to notice it, but she was a loving person full of emotions. And proud? The word didn’t do her justice. Her nose was naturally pert, as if warning all who crossed her path that she was defiant.

Jean, with all her sweetness, wasn’t defiant. If he cared to make a list-- something he was trying to stop himself from doing-- Jean was the damsel in distress you wanted to save. Something about her called men to act without her asking. Ororo did for herself, only asking when she realized the situation was getting out of hand. And he liked that. Logan wasn’t really the hero type, although Charles swore he was, and liked when people could handle their own shit. Ororo could handle hers, and everyone else’s, while making room for the troubles Logan had. That was something only Charles could do, and fuck if he didn’t admire them both for it.

She paused and let herself buoy. With something akin to effort, he sheepishly gave up the task to paddle in the shallow water . Without opening her eyes, she spoke. “I could control the currents to help you balance if you’d like,” she offered lazily.

Wolverine stopped himself from shrugging. She wouldn’t see the action so it wouldn’t benefit anyone should he do it. “ ‘M fine. Thanks, though.”

A tiny hum escaped her throat. “Would you prefer if we rested on the grass?”

Logan screwed his face in contemplation. “Honestly? Yeah.”

Ororo nodded. “Very well.” She released a breath and fell beneath the black waters, then swam to shore. Logan followed. They both dropped to the shore, Ororo gasping for breath. It was fucked up, really, but... She had some tig ol’ bitties. He eyes roamed, quickly mapping her spectacular body. He wasn’t aware that he licked his lips, but his mouth was watering. The phrase, “Carpet matches the curtains,” came to mind when he spotted the white landing strip. Good Lord, this woman was about to give him a heart attack he wouldn’t recover from, what with her wine colored nipples pebbling. She rolled to her stomach, giving him another view of her bottom.

“What’s Canada like?” she asked, her voice soft.

That took him aback. Of all the things two people could be doing while stark naked in the middle of the night, only she would think about a country too cold for an actual summer. He folded his arms beneath his head and gazed up at the moon. “Different from here, that’s fer sure. Colder, wilder, quieter.” He turned his head to see her nestling her head in her arms. “What about Africa?”

“Different from here. Hotter, wilder, quieter,” she repeated, a sly smile on her face. Once she fell silent and found the perfect spot to rest her head, she opened her eyes to look into Logan’s. “Do you ever wonder why people do horrible things?” she asked suddenly, her gaze intent as if he had all the answers.

He turned to his side, propping his head up on his elbow. “Because they can, darlin’.”

“Oh.” With a slow nod, she closed her eyes and sighed. “I wish we could sleep out here, but I doubt anyone would appreciate seeing us in the nude. Charles least of all.”

That got a chuckle from Logan. “Ya might be right with that one.” He snuggled closer to Ororo, but would never admit it was snuggling. “Maybe when ya have yer house you could.” Well, since the topic was opened... “Ro, I’m building it. Don’t hire that spit fuck, Eliot Constable. I’ll do it and do it well.”

“Oh, I have little doubts about that. What’s the saying? Ah, yes, ‘you’re the best at what you do’?” She pushed herself up. “Come. Before it’s light.” Tugging on her ruined nightie that was conveniently nearby and tossing him his pants, she sighed. “I think I may just crash on the couch and shower in the morning.”

Logan made a face for her benefit. “I always pinned you as the hygienic type.” A thought crossed his mind. By now, they’d both be asleep. “My room’s closer...”

Being too tired to consider how that would look, she nodded. “Sold. If I can borrow your shower and a shirt to sleep in.”


Morning came too quickly. Without having to make the same mistake twice, he knew automatically it wasn’t raining outside. A warm body was nestled to a pillow facing the window, something he had to give up so she wouldn’t have a panic attack. It was a fair trade, she slept comfortable, and he slept without having too many nightmares. If any. Instead of waking to screams, he felt a cloud black on the edge of his subconscious, letting him know he’d slept fitfully, but didn’t have an all out night terror. It didn’t beat a dreamless sleep, but it was a start.

Sidling up beside her, he indulged himself. It was brand new experience for him seeing a naked body like hers and not busting all over himself... Or her. Last night was special, making it to his list of memorable moments, and making it easier to love Roro. He wrapped an arm around her teensy waist, finding he couldn’t confuse-- or purposefully mistake-- her body with Jean’s. No, he was holding Ororo Munroe, and that was perfectly okay. Fantastic even. She was in his shirt, in his bed, in his room. Her and nobody else. The constant nagging of loneliness wasn’t there.

Unintelligible mumbling escaped her rosy lips and she pressed her back deeper into Logan’s brawny chest. Once comfortable, she made a happy sound and smiled. So fucking adorable. Yeah, by all accounts, today would be a good day.

Closing his eyes to get just a little more comfortable, he expanded his senses. Bobby was snoozing happily, whatever crappy song from his iPod finishing its last bar. There was a humming bird right outside, sampling whatever flower was making its home in the bushes. Charles was getting up, but not without a fight. Logan chuckled, it seemed Chuck’s struggle expanded to even mundane things. Jeanie and One-Eye were asleep, their snores overlapping. And Ororo was stirring, fighting the heavy weight on her midsection.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hoping he didn’t trigger her claustrophobia.

“The baseball bat poking into my thigh, Logan,” she mumbled.

“Baseball bat, huh?” he repeated proudly.

A groan was her immediate reply. “Yes. Now go to your bathroom, use your hands, and hit a home run. I’m too cozy to be turned on,” she mumbled, her voice husky from sleep.

Turned on? His erection twitched. He sampled the air and found that scent from before, the one he blamed solely on Scott. Yes, there was Red’s arousal coupled with Scooter’s, but underneath it all was a scent he was all too familiar with and yet estranged from: Ororo’s arousal. It was faint now, as it had been before, but once he caught it, it was heady. Images from last night, how her body was so gloriously and unashamedly naked came back, making the moment even more scandalous than it had previously been. “Turned on, huh?”

Cattish eyes widened, realizing her mistake. She felt his body press firmly into hers, making her body betray herself. “Wolverine--”

“Nice try, darlin’. My hearing is too good fer you to try and weasel yer way out of that one.” He traced a path up her arm, leaning in close. Snuggling impossibly closer, Logan let his breath stir her hair, smelling her arousal grow. His arms wrapped around her feminine frame and let her body mold into his, making sure his “baseball bat” pressed into the curve of her ass. Pressing an experimental kiss to her neck, he felt her shudder. Bingo. He pressed another kiss to her jaw, his hands idly thumbing her sculpted thighs. He nipped her earlobe, then removed a hand from her thigh to turn her chin to face him. Like putty in his hands, she turned.

No time like the present, Logan believed. But someone like Ororo came slowly. If he wanted her-- and he really did-- he’d have to put the charm on, slow, but certain. Hovering slightly above her, Logan wanted to smile. Of course she could wake up looking like a supermodel. “Damn, yer gorgeous,” he said softly, his thumb lazily stroking her cheek. A pink tongue escaped her mouth and swept over her lips. That was all the invitation Logan needed before pressing a kiss to her.

Initial shock passed and Ororo returned the kiss. She mewled, immediately recognizing this was her first kiss in years. Yes, she’d given kisses here and there, but they were to cheeks, booboos, foreheads, and even dollies. His tongue swept her bottom lips, seeking entrance, and she let him, their tongues dueling it out as he moved above her, pressing his lower half into hers. Bright lady, he was a good kisser. A soft moan erupted from her throat and Logan slanted his mouth. Her hands reached up, threading her fingers through unruly locks. She was getting so wet her thighs were becoming slick-- she’d foregone panties in her sleepy stupor. Wolverine offered her some boxers, but by the time the words left his mouth and reached her ears, she was asleep.

He pulled away from her kiss swollen lips when she needed air, attacking her pulse point. Ororo moaned, her fingers massaging his scalp. Oh, how good this felt. She was beginning to feel like a woman. His weight, while... heavy, obviously, was welcome. He felt so good pressed against her... Ororo’s hands wandered over a perfect back, making his hips buck into hers. Feeling emboldened, she took her hands from his back to his hairy chest, her nails gently scraping over his nipples. A strangled moan left his throat and hit her right between her thighs. The tension between her legs was becoming too much and if the only thing between them was a shirt and a pair of boxers, what was stopping them? The same though must have crossed Wolverine’s mind for he began unbuttoning his shirt. Jean might have gotten the kiss, but Ororo was about to get the dick.

Ororo’s eyes widened as she felt his meaty paw cup her clothed breast. Oh, no, why now did she have to face reality? Jean and Scott were a few feet away, and she was in Logan’s bed. It was bitter, but she felt like a replacement, just another notch in his bedpost. If she slept with him, not only would their friendship be irreversibly damaged, but so would she. Logan didn’t have an honorable track record for the most part. When he slept with a woman, it was always a one night stand, or two, if you were good enough.

Her body sang, screamed for one measly orgasm, but she couldn’t do. She couldn’t warm a bed, be a fantasy or fetish, or a stand-in. It wasn’t pride that pushed him back, it was self preservation. In the memory she called her “sex life,” disappointment quickly followed. And the man she was with had a PhD in disappointing women. “Stop, Logan. I can’t,” she managed, her voice pathetic to her own ears. Logan heard how shaky it was, too, and nipped her lower lip for trying. His other hand joined the first and he began unbuttoning her even faster. “No,” she whimpered. Images of Forge and loneliness hit her. Suddenly looking up at his ceiling, the trifecta hit. Claustrophobia settled and her chest heaved. She didn’t even realize she sent him flying.

A seriously aroused and confused Wolverine rubbed the back of his head. “What the fuck, Ro?”

Ororo quickly sat up, buttoning the shirt. She needed to get out before something bad happened. “I c-can’t. No,” she stammered, sitting up and smoothing her hair. She hurried to the door, missing the worried looks she was getting. “I can’t.”



Just because he respected boundaries didn’t mean he always liked it. When he was rejected, he’d shrug it off and find another willing body, there was always one in the wings. This time, though, he didn’t want another body. He wanted that glorious chocolate toned women who’d donned his shirt and smelled amazing. The kisses she shared with him were tantalizing, giving his morning wood an extra kick. When she left-- abruptly-- a cold shower of fifteen minutes couldn’t wash away what she made in five. Not that masturbation was something new to the Wolverine. For as old as he was, it probably was a hobby in another life.

What had he done to her to make her so freaked? So he’d pushed the boundaries, and maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing, but she looked ready to have a full out panic attack. He noticed that after he got up from the floor. That wind trick wasn’t so much fun when it was you flying across the room. It would be smart to ask her why she reacted so negatively, but he couldn’t help but feel like giving her time alone was smartest.

And smart meant he had to wait. Which wasn’t his style.

“Ain’t no point in hiding,” he barked. Jean “appeared,” her red hair winking at him. It had been for about a minute, but he smelled peppermint before then. Nobody could get the drop on Logan.

“I originally came here looking for Ororo,” she explained. “She tends to... swim in the buff.” Logan nodded. So it wasn’t a one time thing and he wasn’t special for it. “Have you seen her? I saw her coming out of your room this morning...” her voice trailed off.

“Try her greenhouse. Or her loft. I haven’t seen her since she left my room.”

“I did.” Jean brushed back a lock of hair. “So, you and Ororo, huh? That’s unexpected, though not unpleasant.”

Logan shifted, his skin crawling. This really wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to have. One girl was becoming a major problem while the other one stayed a problem. Charles really ought to have picked uglier female leaders; these two were too much temptation for one man to handle. “Is there something you want, Jean?”

A copper brow rose. “Just Jean? My, my, you really do like her.” Something like a snarl incited bubbling laughter. “Relax, I’m not here to make you uncomfortable. I’m here on a mission, and you can help.” She faced him, her face serious. “I’m supposed to be going to breakfast with Ororo, but I haven’t seen her. In fact, I can’t even contact her via telepathic link. While I’m sure it’s nothing, it’s just not like her to run off.”

No, it really wasn’t. That was Logan’s line. Just because he didn’t doubt she’d be back didn’t make her departure any less unsettling. Was she really not in the house? Where would she go in case of troubles? And if Jean couldn’t reach her, was she hurt? Questions without answers, and he found the phrase really annoying. He stood up, trying to remain cool while freaking on the inside. She wasn’t about to pull a Wolverine without being Wolverine. “Where she usually run off to when she’s feeling shitty?”

“Other than to Gambit’s?” Gambit? Jean raked a hand through her hair, “She likes to visit this trendy cafe.” Jean caught the look in his eyes. “Logan, if she wants to be alone, let her be alone. I was just wondering if you’d seen her. I’ll let Scott know she’s indisposed,” she said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the house. She started leaving when he called after her.

“What’s the name of the ‘trendy cafe’?” he asked making air quotes. He couldn’t even begin to think of what a “trendy cafe” could look like, but he felt like there were hippies galore.



The name wasn’t trendy at all. A battered wooden sign read Agatha’s in chipped red paint, something Logan felt wasn’t intentional; the glass door had the same fare. A little bell alerted the small crowd of his presence and he felt like the consummate outsider amongst outsiders. And they were. A flock of young teenagers, some college yuppies, an old couple still trapped in the sixties, and a mommy with her squalling five year old made the backdrop for the bookstore/cafe. A sample of the air let him know only hand-me-downs were in here, the scents were old and faint, but they came from everywhere.

Trying to be inconspicuous, he followed the scent of rain and vanilla. There was a second level, something he didn’t originally notice due to the clutter of books. If this was what was trendy, looking like you belonged in the seventies hippy scene while dressing like you took acid, Logan wondered what the hell Ororo was doing here. Ro might’ve worn long skirts from time to time, but she certainly didn’t look whacky. She was sitting in a wingback chair sucking some aromatic tea from a straw and plastic cup, reading an ancient copy of 1984, in a maxi dress and sandals. Gone was Logan’s shirt. He felt bereft of the sight.

She placed down her tea, flipped the page, and continued reading, oblivious of his presence. His boots never made a sound as he approached her. He dropped his heavy frame into the chair beside hers, he picked up her tea, took a pull, and plucked the book from her hands, acting innocent. Once he swallowed, though, that’s when the innocence stopped. “Shit, this is good,” he swore loudly. On purpose, of course. “It ain’t Molson but I can see why ya got it. Is that a rose?” he asked, looking at the bottom of the cup. “Huh.” He took another pull.

“Really, Wolverine?” she started, her ire rising and eyes whitening.

He wagged a finger. “Uh-uh, Storm. Don’t give yerself away, now.” Ignoring the heated look she was giving him, he licked his calloused thumb and continued to pretend to read. Without knowing much about the author, Logan knew every line of the book, something that unnerved him. He could do it with plenty books, actually, and have never opened them once... to his recollection. Though Logan liked to think it proved a sign of intelligence in him, something that carried over from his past life.

Flipping another page and still not paying attention to Ororo was becoming funny. In a huff, she stood, searched her purse, pulled out a five and stormed off. She was still in the building so he didn’t get up. After three minutes, she returned, a new tea and hot cinnamon bun in hand. She took a bite from her bun, placed it down, and sipped her tea. He placed the book down and snatched the bun without much of a fight. Not that she could take him with his reflexes.

Hey, she started it. She acted weird so he would act weird.

Apparently Ororo had had enough. “What, Logan?” she couldn’t continue... whatever he was doing.

Swallowing the cinnamon confection, he spoke. “You ran off. And not very well, might I add. I found ya relatively quickly.” He wouldn’t mention Jean’s tip out of self preservation.

“Maybe I should take notes from the master, then,” she retorted. She caught the wounded look. “Oh, Logan, I’m sorry--”

“Save yer sorries fer when they’re needed.” He lowered his voice. “What happened this morning?”

“Several things if memory serves,” she said dryly.

“Don’t try and give me some bullshit, Ro. Things were hot and heavy one second, then confusing the next.” He paused. “Talk,” he demanded.

Palming her face, Ororo wildly shook her head. “It...” A noisy groan somehow wormed its way through her knuckles. “It’s about a guy.”

“Gambit?” he queried.

“Wherever did you hear that name...” Her head shot up, and odd smile on her face. “No, but he does make an appearance. In fact, he’s very much part of the reason you’re talking to me now. The night you tried to run, do you remember my words to you?”

“Course.” They’d been haunting him ever since. If there was a moment he started to really wonder about Ororo, that would be the defining moment.

She rolled her eyes back and wiped her face, licking her lips. “There are many reasons, but one of them has to do with Forge.” He’d never heard the name, but something told him he wouldn’t like the guy on sight if he did. “And you. And Jean.” She held his gaze, “What part do you want to hear first?”

“Forge,” he blurted, not wanting to hear about himself or Jean, because he knew what she was going to say.

“When I was eighteen, I was romantically involved with a mutant named Jonathan Silvercloud, or Forge, as his gift granted him the ability to make his inventions practically come to life. I was so in love, Logan. I wanted him and nothing else. And I suppose on some level, so did he.”

Ororo’s face drooped. “But he was much older than I. He was offered a job in Arizona and wanted me to go with him... as his wife. He proposed, and I asked for some time to think about it.” Logan winced, he could already see where this was headed. “He said he was fine with letting me think things over, and we made love that night. My first.”

Raising a hand and turning her face from it, she sighed. “Where I come from, a woman’s virginity is special, given only to her husband. My decision was all but made the moment I let him bed me. And when I went to his apartment to tell him as much, I caught him with another woman. An escort, as if to worsen the blow.” Somewhere in the world, Jonathan Silvercloud probably should’ve started writing his will. “I said it was over, but he left me with the parting gift of a low self image. He called me ugly, if could you imagine. I’d lived my whole life believing I was somewhat attractive. But it’s amazing the things you question when a loved one says otherwise.”

Didn’t Logan know. “So then what?” he asked, once again wrapped up in the story of Ororo’s life.

“What else? I became depressed. The one thing I’d guarded from pedophiles and rapists in Africa was taken by a man who slept with another woman hours later. I was alone with Scott, Jean, and Charles: three people who wanted my happiness but aided in my loneliness. They treated me like china while going on about their business. It was suffocating and I just wanted to get away. So I did, and ended up in New Orleans.” A secret smile lightened her face. “That’s how I met Gambit. He pulled me up from my depression and pushed me to return to the mansion.” She made a note to call him tonight. She’d gone too long without talking to her Remy. “I couldn’t do it again, Logan.”

They took sips of rose tea from their respective cups and shared the cooling cinnamon bun. Pedophiles? Rapists? Ororo’s only had one sexual experience? “It was just sex, Ro, I wasn’t gonna try and marry ya--.”

She scoffed. “That’s part of the problem. I can’t do ‘just sex.’ It’s impossible for me to separate the two and it would be even harder to have sex with you.”

“No, it ain’t, Ro,” he jibed, “you’d kiss me, I kiss ya back. There’d be some touching--”

A hard glare stopped him. “Not the function, the feeling. I couldn’t sleep with you knowing I’d just be filling a void for Jean.”

“Flamin’ hell, Storm, that’s an awful thing to say--”r32;
“And yet, you are not denying it.” She rubbed her neck, an unconscious imitation of Logan. “I like you, Logan, I really do. But I don’t want to feel used.”

He wanted to be angry. Really, he did. An accusation like that was harsh but it wasn’t unfounded. The woman Logan looked up to-- and was on his way to idolizing-- was self conscious. And damn, was it well hidden. He had no idea she felt that way. Logan was right-- he disliked Forge without ever meeting the prick.

Gently squeezing her thigh, Logan gave a smile he copied from Chuck. “That ain’t true. Back in my room it was just the two of us. I swear.” Ororo peeked at him, her lower lip worried by a set of pearly whites. “I’m not gonna lie ta you because you’re strong enough ta hear the truth, but yeah-- I wanted Jean. Part of me still wants her.” Ororo let out a small huff. “But I want you, too.”

With a straight look, Ororo moved her knee from Logan’s touch. “Sex would ruin our friendship.”

“I know.”

Ororo wanted to roll her eyes. This man really had no stop on his libido. For his age, Ororo sometimes wondered if he was really a fifteen year old boy with the ability to morph into a thirty year old man. There was no other way of explaining his endless need for sex. “You know and you were willing to sacrifice it over maybe ten minutes?”

“I last much longer than ten minutes,” he defended. She shot him a look that made him straighten up. “Sorry. But I do!” Her evil look deepened and Logan knew better than to push it. “Fine.” He inhaled deeply, knowing he needed to placate the situation and fast. Their friendship was new and he already found himself loving it. Sex would definitely ruin the situation. She had him there. “While I can’t just forget about what happened this morning, I won’t make any attempts ta repeat it.” Yet. Thrusting his hand out, he gave her a sober look. “Deal?”

Ororo narrowed her eyes, knowing he was telling a half truth. But for now, she had to accept what he said. She took his calloused paw. “Deal.”

For now.

A day or two passed before Logan found himself back in Ororo’s room. It wasn’t planned, but for the better part of the day, he’d been feeling sullen. Logan knew the why without trying. It was three things, culminating into his shitty mood. For one, Logan hadn’t been laid in a month and a half-- coming close to sealing the deal with Ororo brought that sobering realization on. Two: Logan had a series of nightmares all last night, and while he’d been trying to shower away the sweat, a flashback hit. And third: He hadn’t been able to talk to Ro.

After THAT night, as he labeled it, she’d been distancing herself from him. Logan couldn’t blame her, but it didn’t mean he liked it. And while he didn’t have many friends, he knew they weren’t supposed to be awkward around each other. And he knew they were being awkward around each other because when he tried to pick up their teasing banter, she paled and came up with some obviously bullshit excuse to get away from him. It sucked. Really.

Logan tried talking to Jean about it without giving away too many details, but it proved useless. Jean claimed she just needed some “time alone.” She said Ororo was a complex woman who liked her solitude. As if hadn’t known that! There was a moment when he entertained the idea of talking to Chuck about it, but that was immediately dashed. That old man doted on Storm like a daughter and Logan could bet good money that Charles wouldn’t want to know about what almost happened in Logan’s bed.

So that brought him to her loft door. She was in there, he knew. After dinner, she opted against joining everyone in the game room-- it was movie night-- to “do some light reading in bed.” Beyond that, he could smell her in her room. Hear her, too. She was talking on the phone to someone she knew fairly well, judging by her light voice. Without hearing the other side of the conversation or even the name, Logan knew she was talking to Gambit.

Jealousy flared in his chest and he beat her door, demanding entrance.

“...One second.” Ororo lifted away from the phone. “Yes?” she called.

“It’s me, Ro!” He twisted the knob. “Let me in. We gotta talk.”

Ororo bit back a groan. “It’s open.” She turned back to the phone and sat up. “I’ll call you soon.”

“Yeah, petite? Y’ said that the last time.”

Chuckling, she shook her head. “This time will be different. And this friendship thing is a two way street. You have to call me, too, Remy!” she said, indignant. Logan walked to her bed and hunkered down, kicking off his boots. He crawled up to the headboard, then folded his arms behind his head, waiting. The conversation was over for the most part, even if she dragged it out, that much was evident. “I’ll call you. Bye,” she said sweetly.

When Remy said his goodbyes, Ororo looked over at Logan. The man was becoming too used to the layout of her room. Pinching the bridge of her nose to center her thoughts, she forced herself to not overreact. She knew why Logan was in her room and she supposed this showdown was evident. It was best to get it out of the way now then drag it out till later. “What book you reading?”

“Yellow Pages.”

Logan snorted. “Funny.” He glanced at her phone. “That Remy?”

His relaxed demeanor was confusing Ororo. “It was... Was there something you needed?”

“I can’t just want to be with my friend?” he asked, cornering her before stood a chance. Logan held her steady gaze, watching her slowly cave. There was no way to fight the well prepared unless you fought dirty. Logan fought dirty. He opened his arm, waiting for her to fill the empty space. She obliged him. When her head settled on his sternum, she sighed. “What?”

“Your chest is filled with metal,” she pouted.

Chuckling low in his throat, he rubbed her arm, pulling her flush against him. “Well, whaddya know?” He cracked his knuckles, making that sickening sound of metal scraping metal. “I am.” She punched him, snorting, then lowered her head back. A time passed with them lying like that, quiet, cuddling, and completely content. He missed being with her like this. The whole mansion was constantly buzzing, draining Logan. It didn’t take long for him to appreciate the genius behind Ororo’s greenhouse and her loft-- both were separate from the world.

Eventually, Ororo felt herself drifting off. It was too early to sleep so she elected to talk. “Logan?” she asked, her voice a decibel above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he asked, his chest rumbling. Had she not spoken, Logan probably would’ve fallen asleep. It would’ve fine with him-- he needed sleep.

“Do you ever get tired?”

He knew she wasn’t talking in literal terms. His slow beating heart felt like it was breaking for her. Poor Ro, she cared too much. “All the time, darlin’. All the time.”

Ororo brought a graceful hand up to his chest and traced patterns into his skin, her mind a million miles away. “When you get tired, do you go to your cabin?” she asked.

Logan captured her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm absentmindedly, then laid it on his chest. “Sometimes. Other times I just go.” He smiled. “You wanna see my cabin?” Thinking it over for a second or two, she nodded wordlessly. “Then I’ll have to take you.” Because he needed to get away just as badly as she did, he was grateful for her response. After a moment, he licked his lips. “But other times, I just travel. Been places you wouldn’t believe.”

Ororo propped her head up on his chest, her eyes trained on him. For a moment, Logan was fixed by how beautiful she was. Tucking a few strands of her flowing white mane behind her ear, he thought about her parents, and how thankful he was for their existence, no matter how brief it was. He’d heard parents say their greatest contribution to society, and their greatest achievement, were their kids. How true this statement was when applied to Ororo. She was one of a kind and among the best of them easily.

“Let me ask you a question, Ro.” She made a sound of agreement, then waited. “If I never loved Red, would you have been with me?” Her whole body tensed and Logan regretted his question. They were having a perfectly good moment, but in true Logan fashion, he ruined it. “You don’t have ta answer if yer--”

“Yes.”

The Beast reared his head, ready to acquiesce her should she be ready. Flaring his nostrils, he couldn’t find the scent of arousal, but certainly interest. It was a good enough sign for him. “Weren’t you the one getting into a huff about sex getting in the way of our friendship?” he joked.

“I was. But I’m a woman, Logan. I have needs that have been largely ignored,” she said bluntly. Cocking her head to regard him, Ororo sat up, running her hands down his chest. “You are an attractive man, Logan. I’ve heard of your prowess in bed and have wondered what it would be like to be with you.” She leaned forward, her white hair making a curtain around them. Gently cupping his cheek and running her thumb over his lower lip, “I would have slept with you and worried about the consequences later,” she purred in his ear. Logan nipped her thumb, causing a smile to break out on her face. “Easy now.”

“Tease.”

“Who said I was teasing?” she asked, her voice noticeably huskier. With a chuckle, she rose from the bed.

Sitting up, Logan followed her movements. “Where ya going, Ro?” It wasn’t necessary; she was heading for her terrace-- anyone with eyes could see that. She pushed the doors open and looked out at a sun fading into the horizon.

“I thought I might enjoy some cloud dancing.” She gripped the edge and sighed, slumping her shoulders and resting her forearms against the brick. It was impossible, though. She had the will, and even the way, but the kids were still awake. And Logan was feeling needy. Her lips twisted into a smirk at the implication. “Alas, I cannot.”

He joined her, nodding. “The kids’ll be asleep soon enough.” Copying her stance, he looked out at the horizon, watching the sun sink back. When he was infatuated with Jean, sunrise and sunset became even more romantic. The streaks of red were like her hair; foolishly, he thought the sun less amazing than a woman he could never have. Logan supposed reality gave better perspective than an illusion, but he wasn’t poetic or nothing. An idea struck him. “Ya could be nekkid in Canada all the time.”

Ororo let out a bark of laughter. “What?”

“You heard me, kid. There ain’t a whole lot of people near my cabin. ‘Sides, I keep the place booby trapped.” He looked at her and waited for her reply.

“You keep your cabin booby trapped?” she asked, her snowy brows furrowed in confusion.

The look was so heartbreakingly cute, but her naiveté was even cuter. Poor Ro, trusting everyone when nobody deserved trust so inherently. Even Storm with all her grace didn’t get Logan’s good faith until he started talking to her, and there were even limits there. Although, Logan had to admit that if she kept doing whatever it was that she was doing, she could become his right hand woman. “Yer really asking that question?” He cocked an eyebrow.

Oh. “Right. I had a... moment.” She folded her arms under her chest. “It would be nice to be--”

“Butt ass naked?” he interrupted, a smirk on his face. She punched his arm. “God, y’ hit like a girl,” he teased, rubbing the spot.

“Would you like me to really hit you?” she tested, charging her fist with electricity until it cackled.

Smirking at her display, he put his hands up in defeat. “Pass.” He leaned back against the ledge and crossed his arms to his burly chest. “Since we’ve finished our playful banter, why don’t ya answer the question, Storm?”

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.

When they got back to the mansion, Ororo was much happier and Logan was fucked. They’d never crossed the line between friends and fuck buddies but there were a few times when Logan was almost positive she was giving him an invitation. He never asked her about it, but the question was still burning inside him. It was a shame he was back at the X Mansion; he’d never get the chance to find out the truth.

He parked in the garage, wanting to ask her if they could get away later tonight, either to her room or somewhere else, but Scott cut the moment short. Fuckin’ One Eye, always ruining his moment. “Storm!” he cheered, pulling the door open. Ororo fell into his arms and hugged him close. Fuckin’ One Eye! Always touching his woman.

“Oh, you look amazing,” he remarked, brushing her hair back. “How is that even possible?”

“Because she’s fuckin’ amazing?” Logan scoffed brusquely. How dare he insinuate Ro didn’t look amazing every second of every day?

“Not what I meant.” Scott squeezed Ororo’s wrist and pulled her in. “How’d you manage living with him for a week?”

“I can hear ya, you know.” Logan tossed Ororo’s bags over his shoulder and slammed his trunk closed. “Or are ya so stupid that--”

“Storm!” Jean exclaimed. “So good to see you again!” She pressed a perfunctory kiss to Ororo’s dark cheeks. “You look amazing.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Relaxed. You look relaxed,” Jean corrected.

Ororo giggled, having seen Logan’s face as well. “I feel relaxed.”

“Well,” Jean remarked, wagging her brows mischievously, “I’m sure Logan had a hand in that.”

The innuendo, though lost on Ororo and Scott, was not lost to Logan. He stumbled, hitting his knee against the Jeep and coughing hard on swallowed spit. Logan shot a glare at an innocent looking Jean, but she was busy smiling at Ororo with unasked questions. “What’s wrong, Logan? Bag so heavy you lost balance?”

“Nope,” he shot, slinging her bag more firmly over his shoulder. He slammed the boot closed and moved towards Ororo. “Everything’s fine.” Gently placing a hand on her waist, he looked down at her. “Come on, let’s get you inside. Rugrats ‘re probably kicking by now to see ya.”



It was late. Much too late for anyone to be awake or even be falling asleep, and yet there was Logan, walking up to Ororo's room. It wasn't because he wasn't tired--he was-- but he just couldn't fall asleep in his own bed. Sleeping beside Ororo was a ritual back at his cabin and he wasn't ready to give that up. Not yet, at least.

He knocked on the door, waiting for her to answer. A part of Logan assumed she'd be asleep, but another part hoped she was awake and missing his presence in bed as well. After a moment, a groggy voice told him to come inside.

Ororo scooted over and pulled her duvet up, giving Logan the unspoken cue to climb in and warm the cold spot to the left of her. He tugged off his pants and pulled off his shirt; he slept best in his underwear. Or naked.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, nestling her in closer to Logan. She laid her head on his chest and intertwined their legs.

"Nope."

She hummed and let out a happy sound as he draped his arm around her waist. "Neither could I." She gently ran her fingers over his chest, regulating her breathing. "I was thinking about something."

"Something?"

She nodded. "You defended me earlier."

"I did?" he asked. That hazy feeling of sleep was gone; Logan was all ears.

"You did." She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him. "You said I was amazing."

"Well, you are," he said, a brow cocked. "And I didn't like Scott insinuating--"

The rest of his sentence was swallowed up by lips on his. He hadn't been expecting her to kiss him, but now that she was, he wasn't about to stop her.

Ororo kissed him once more, soft and slow. Logan’s hands weren’t idle. One went to her hip while the other went to her back. He eased her down, bring his body atop hers. His knee spread her thighs and he settled himself into the cradle of her thighs. He slanted his lips, his tongue seeking entrance. Logan wanted nothing more than to end all the teasing and find relief within her body, but he needed her to be sure.

She sank her fingers into his hair, relishing his kisses. But just as she started warming up, he pulled away. “Logan, please,” she begged, her voice husky.

“I just...” He licked the corner of his upper lip. “You sure?”

She pressed her lips against his and smiled. “Positive.”

Logan smiled, kissing her once more. His hands pulled her nightdress up, revealing her thighs, stomach, and breasts. He latched onto a nipple, sucking it while he massaged the other breast. Ororo moaned beneath him, her panties becoming slick with want. She closed her eyes, willing herself to keep a tighter control on the weather.
“Logan,” she moaned, low in her throat. “Goddess,” she hissed as he bit the wet nipple. He gave the nipple one last kiss before moving to the other, lathing and sucking it to a peak. She wanted to experience more but she didn’t want him to move, not when she felt so amazing.

He reached inbetween her thigh and rubbed her clit through her panties. Fuck, she was wet. Logan pulled away from her breasts, though he was loath to move. He pressed a slow kiss to her pouty mouth then began a slow trek to her wet center. Ororo moaned at each kiss, her anticipation rising.

Curling his fingers into the waistband of her panties, Logan looked up at Ororo, making sure that this, too, was okay with her. She’d only had sex once and while she was wet, she was going to be tight. Logan wanted to go all night with her, but before he did that, he had to make sure she was wet and ready. She gave an imperceptible nod, but that was enough for him.

As he pulled her panties from her legs, he kissed her inner thigh, her knee, her calf, and when he repeated the ritual in reverse order. Ororo moaned, missing the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head. She smelled so goddamn good. His mouth watered, wanting to sample her taste.

Logan kissed her mound while spreading her nether lips with two fingers. He laid comfortably on his stomach, taking in the sight of her pussy. “So pretty,” he mused. He licked the length of her lips, heavy with her essence. His chest rumbled, pleased with the taste. It was exactly the way he expected it to taste only better. She tasted like fresh rain water-- sweet and refreshing-- and salted pineapples; apparently her vegetarian diet had its perks.

Ororo squirmed, alternating between moans and whimpers. When he slid two fingers within her, she bucked hard into his mouth. “Sh,” he purred. He licked her clit and kissed her thigh. “I got you, Ro.” Logan slid his fingers in and out while sucking on this skin of her inner thigh. She was going to have a hickey in the morning.

Tight. Logan had been in some tight pussy before, but they were nowhere near as tight as Ororo. His fingers sped up, matching her hitching breaths and shaking thighs. She was close, which was good. If he could, he would stay with way for forever, tasting her essence and feeling her fingers become tangled in his hair.

The weather was becoming crazy outside. The rain was hitting the windows and as she came-- which was fucking beautiful-- lightning flashed just outside the window. Logan’s male pride flared, absolutely loving the fact that he was the reason the weather was shot in the New York area.

Logan pulled himself up, tugged off his boxers, and placed his engorged member at her entrance. He waited, wanting to see her come to before he entered her. There was no other reason for waiting-- his body demanded relief-- but Logan wanted to memorize everything about
this night.

When her eyes finally colored back, she looked up at him, slightly bewildered and a tad flushed. But she was happy. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him, tasting herself on him. Ororo shifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist. As he slid home, Ororo let out a long groan, relishing the feel of him within her even as her walls stretched to accommodate him.

“Logan,” she moaned, lolling her head back as he thrusted hard into her. He slid back, then thrusted forcefully back in. She hissed, only to have Logan press his lips onto hers. She moaned, rocking her hips in time with his. Admittedly, it took her a second to get used to his rhythm-- slow and unhurried and yet forceful and hard.

Logan sped up, trying to find her release before he achieved his. The Wolverine was begging to come out, wanting to experience his chosen mate in the way he wanted, but Logan needed this. He wasn’t sure why... but something dark within him told him it wouldn’t last. They were friends, first and foremost, and they were adding sex to the equation. Whether this was a one off or something that would be repeated, he wasn’t sure, but how they were before would be invariably changed.

Logan wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted that.

He buried his head into her shoulder and groaned. Goddamn, she felt so good. Logan reached inbetween her thighs and thrummed her clit. “Come on, baby, let me feel you,” he demanded. “Shit,” he hissed. The first signs of her orgasm was coming-- the tightening in her inner walls, the hitching breaths. Her fingernails dug into his rapidly healing flesh.

“Logan,” she whimpered. “I-I’m--”

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, pistoning his hips into hers. Logan grabbed her hips; there would be bruises in the morning, that was for sure. He looked down, watching her mouth drop open and eyes eyes screw closed. “No,” he barked. “I wanna see. Open them eyes up,” he ordered. With no small amount of effort, she opened her eyes.

Christ, she was fucking beauty in the throes of passion.

Her pussy locked him in a vice grip, sending him into full beast mode. Wolverine had waited long enough-- he was fucking ready.

Just as Ororo came down from her first orgasm, she was forcefully rolled over onto her stomach. Logan grabbed her already bruised hips and yanked them up, forcing her to rest on her knees. She secretly relished the fact that she was finally going to try doggy style, but something about Logan’s touches felt different from before. He was no longer caressing her-- he was grabbing her. She looked back, expecting to see a cocky smirk only to find the blackest eyes she’d ever seen looking back at her.

“Mine,” it growled.

When Ororo awoke, it was to a sore body and a head nestled between her shoulder blades. She could hardly move, but based on how many times Logan took her that night, she doubted she would be able to. Logan was resting heavily on her body, fast asleep. Normally this would’ve been fine with Ororo-- the post-sex soreness and Logan sleeping on her-- but he’d given her a massive bite on her shoulder and she had business to attend to in a few hours.

Ororo shifted, trying to push Logan off of her. “No,” he grouched.

Ororo huffed. “I have to get ready.”

“You can get ready later,” he mumbled, still half asleep. “You need to sleep.”

Ororo struggled some more. “No, I need a shower, some breakfast, and to. Get. Up,” she bit. With incredible effort, she rolled out from underneath him and walked stark naked to her bathroom. Logan, who’d been thinking about falling back asleep for another hour, quickly changed his mind when he saw Ororo walk away, her bottom switching with each step. He decided he, too, could use a shower.



"Pass the juice, Scott?" Jean asked. "Thanks." She took a moment to look at Scott, marveling at just how wonderful her husband. No matter what Logan thought about Scott-- he was perfect. Loyal to a fault and great in bed, Scott was the man for Jean, especially after learning he could do that thing with his tongue and loved eating her--

"Stop," Scott blushed.

Jean beamed at Scott, unaware that she'd been sharing her find memories with him. "Well, it's true. Who would've guessed that you like--"

"Jean!" he hissed. Scott looked around the kitchen. "We don't discuss bedroom matters in the kitchen," he said softly, his cheeks a bright red. "We're making breakfast. Stay focused."

Jean giggled and rolled her emerald eyes. "Fine. For now."

"I'll take what I can get," he said chuckling, putting his hands up in defeat.

"Oh, I know that's right," Jean said huskily, leaning on her husband's shoulders.

"Jean!"

She roared with laughter. Honestly, Scott was amazing, you just had to know him first.

"You guys fucking in here or what?" yelled a voice, startling Scott and making Jean double over with harder laughter. Tears were falling from her eyes at this point. Logan sauntered in, his hair a mess and his trademark jeans and wife beater on. "Thanks God, I thought I was gonna have ta burn my eyes out."

"Like you wouldn't just love the chance to see Jean naked," Scott shot. Not his best riposte, but it was something.

"No, you're absolutely right, I would love that chance," he said, pointing a finger back at Jean. The then turned it to Scott, "You, on the other hand, would make me vomit and I'm not entirely sure I can." He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a red teacup. Once filled with water, he tossed it in the microwave and nuked it for a minute and a half. While the water heated, he grabbed a slice of bread, popped it in the toaster, and sliced a grapefruit.

Scott and Jean watched with utter fascination.

"Logan... Are you eating a healthy breakfast?" asked Jean cautiously.

"These eggs for everyone?" he asked, not paying attention. The microwave beeped. He grabbed the cup, dumped a raspberry teabag in the water, and added three sugar cubes. Sweets for his sweet... "Me? No. But Ororo likes healthy shit for breakfast."

Scott sputtered. "And why are you making Ororo breakfast?" Jean asked, a smile on her face despite the fact she was hitting Scott on the back.

Logan shrugged, gathered his-- Ororo's-- breakfast on a tray and moved to make his own breakfast; Frosted Flakes were the shit at any age. Now, he could either tell the truth and get a rise out of Scott, or say something covert and not get a rise out of Scott.

Obviously he told the truth.

"I don't know how you and Jean do it, but when I make love to a woman, they wake up hungrier than usual." He put Ororo's breakfast down, then waited for Storm to come down.

Jean promptly began squealing and Scott looked like he was ready to blow a hole in Logan's head. But it was worth it. Absolutely, positively worth it.

"What's wrong?" Storm asked, walking into the kitchen.

If Jean was mistaken, she was walking a tad slower than usual. "Is that a bite on your shoulder?" she squealed.

"What?" Ororo asked, slapping her hand on her shoulder and hiding the sight. "No, why would there be a bite," she glanced at Logan, "on my shoulder?"

"Breakfast's on the table, darlin'."

Goddess, did he have to be any more obvious?

"So that explains the weather," mumbled Scott.

Ororo's cheeks grew darker. "I suppose so."

The kids filtered in and joined Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Logan for breakfast.

And this time, when they say Logan nod at everything Ororo said, this time it wasn't so peculiar.
________________________________________________________
AUTHOR'S NOTE: DONE! was it fluff? Hell yeah, it was, but I made a resolution to finally post something on here and this was my first attempt.
gonna post another story and there won't be powers and it won't be so fluffy... I hope.