“You have to include a picture?” asked Logan, looking at Remy and Piotr.

Piotr nodded solemnly, his face slightly red from alcohol. In the back of his mind, Logan made a note to call him a cab-- the Russian had been in America too long. Wait, was he Russian? Maybe Logan had one too many himself. Actually, he knew he did, considering how he was actually signing up for online dating. Ugh. Thank god he could write this off as him simply being drunk.

“How else they gon’ know what you look like, homme?” Remy took a swig and patted Logan on the back. Nudging at Logan’s shoulder to move aside, Remy took the mouse from his friend and poised the tiny arrow over the picture icon. “Remy sure you got a picture on here... Right?” He eyed Logan nervously. Logan was single, so who knew what kind of... pictures... he saved on his computer. He was certain most of them would be of his travels, landscapes, and random shots from personal projects he occasionally took on, but on the off chance there was porn... “Right?”

Logan grumbled something and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Y’ guess?” Remy repeated. He took a deep breath and clicked the tiny camera. It quickly opened up and Remy began scrolling through the photographs. It was a relief, really, seeing the boring photographs. “Lots of snow,” he joked, “maybe we could include in y’ profile that you travel.”

Piotr set his beer down and pointed eagerly at the screen. “That one. You look,” he paused, searching for the word, “happy.”

Logan furrowed his brows and stared at the picture. “Course I look happy. I’m smiling!”

Piotr snorted. “This one is different. You don’t look pissed off.” He straightened up and looked at Remy. “It is a good picture,” he continued. Remy faced Piotr, his head tipped. “He’ll have a better chance, no?”

Remy nodded, his eyes wide. “Yeah.” Remy bent down, dragging the picture to the small, grey box. After a moment, the picture formatted to the box. It was official: Logan_Howlett36 was officially on a dating website. Remy stood straight, a proud smile on his face. It hadn’t taken much convincing, and now it would only be a matter of time before Logan was dating again.

“This is stupid,” grumbled Logan.

“Why is this stupid, Logan?” Piotr asked. He waited for Logan to answer, though he knew exactly what his Canadian friend would say. “Lots of single people meet this way. There is no shame.”

Logan snorted. There might not be shame for Piotr and the million other singles who were looking, but this was so... different. Never before had Logan fallen for something so quickly, and now he was out the ten bucks it’d taken to sign up for a month. The first twenty matches were free, but only after you paid ten bucks-- what a racket! Logan already felt like a sucker and he knew when those matches only led to women who wanted a quick lay, he’d feel even worse.

“This is so stupid.”



“Too late!” Marie said cheerfully. “You’re already up.”

Ororo stared at her profile and wondered if there was something wrong with it. She just knew that at some point, someone was going to see her profile, read her biography, look at her picture, and then see her age. It all felt so personal and invasive. She’d given too much away! Nobody read African poetry!- most people thought Africa was a country! She just knew her dates were going to be a wreck. Burying her face into her brown hands, Ororo let out a frustrated groan.

“Relax, Ro. Here,” Marie handed Ororo a half empty glass of red wine, “drink. You’ll feel better.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. Ororo guzzled down the wine then peeked back at the screen. She reread the little paragraph and scrutinized the fragmented sentences. Who was going to take her serious when she said “Like poetry. Avid gardner.” This wasn’t a twitter account and she wasn’t fifteen. This... stupidity was going to attract every mouth breather within a ten mile radius. Ugh. She hoped they didn’t have bad breath and seven kids.

Oh, god.

“What if they have kids?” she panicked.

Marie paused before bursting out into laughter. “I thought you were doing this because you wanted kids? Biological clock? Tick, tick, tick?” Marie repeated, holding her wine and settling on the table beside the laptop. She sighed and dropped her head back. “You’re overthinkin’ this.” She turned her head and looked at Ororo, a kind smile on her face. “We won’t tell Jean if you don’t want--”

“Thank you,” Ororo replied quickly, looking at her wine glass. Her heart made that ugly clench and she felt her cheeks burn. She never begrudged Jean’s happiness, but she was insanely jealous. Twenty nine, married happily for four years, and now three weeks pregnant. Ororo nearly died when she heard the news. “I mean, we can tell her only after I get the diamond ring. Or never.”

“Or never!” Marie giggled. She slid off Ororo’s table and kicked off her heels. “Damn, where’s that Chinese?” Marie peeked out the window, checking for the delivery person. This was New York! Wasn’t there like, a law against making it illegal for delivery food to take more than ten minutes to arrive? She looked back at Ororo. Ororo worked for the mayor-- maybe she could get something worked out.

“They there yet?” asked Ororo, still staring the small picture down. She contemplated changing it. Maybe she should be smiling? The whole, seductive wink thing was really juvenile. She opened her pictures and began searching for one good picture. There was one of her in her bikini, but that was from her trip to Wakanda and she still really hated her stupid ex. Three years and no pay off! Long distance relationships were sometimes more work than they were worth, she decided.

“Not yet,” Marie said, still looking.

Ororo cropped her body out, trying to keep only her shoulders and up in the picture. It wasn’t as though she was ashamed of her body, she just wanted to focus on her face. There was limited space and she didn’t want it to be awkwardly cut and squished. When it wouldn’t fit, she sighed. She moved onto another picture-- one of her on a hike. She cocked her head, thinking. She looked amazing, Ororo had to admit. The sunlight was hitting her in a perfect angle and her smile was beatific. It had better be, too, considering the literal years of orthodontist appointments. This one was it.

“I’m sure it’ll only be a moment.” Ororo dragged the picture, waited for it to be formatted, then clicked SAVE. It was official. OroroMunro30 was a MinglingSingle (dot-com) who liked poetry and gardened avidly.

Hopefully she’d find someone.



While her pasta sauce simmered, Ororo read her emails. Ever since the mayor, her boss, announced an initiative to not only drum up police presence but flood poor/failing schools with funds in an effort to decrease crime, several companies tried to get aligned with the project. Ororo knew it was just a ploy to make money and drum up their list of clientele-- she was positive they didn’t care about who was actually helped so long as it helped their bank accounts. That didn’t mean she wasn’t considering it. Tax increases were never popular.

She starred them, answered a few quickly, and opened her calendar to set up conference dates. If there was anything Ororo was proud of, it was her ability to excel at her job. She was a natural born leader, so it made sense she became a grey-suit. And it meant she could actually bring about some real change in the world. She always dreamt of having a job where she could help the poor, fight crime, and wear cute shoes. (Okay, so maybe the last part was a little vain, but at least she was helping the world in some way, right?)

Near the bottom of her emails, there was one she hadn’t really expected to see.

That stupid dating website sent her an email. She hadn’t been on for two weeks on purpose, but apparently there were several dates waiting for her. She rolled her eyes and tried to deny the fact that she was honestly a little excited. Were there actually dates waiting for her? Biting her lip, she debated with herself: Answer them now or wait till dinner was finished?

With a smile she would later deny, she opted to wait for dinner. She was usually on her computer as she ate-- she was a busy woman and it did not meant she got lonely during dinner-- so reading dopey love notes would be entertaining. She hurried to her bedroom, grabbed the laptop and charger, and hurried back to her kitchen. Her pasta couldn’t have been finished sooner.

She read through the first six messages with laughing groans. They were all pretty similar: “Hey, sexy. If you’re looking for a nice guy...” She snorted when she saw their hats and read their biographies. She wasn’t settling for some sexist pig who had zero game. She wasn’t disheartened at all; the optional quiz she took did say not every match would lead to happily ever after.

There were a few scattered possibilities. She liked the ones who tried talking to her first, commented on her biography, or introduced themselves first. That was kind of nice. And then, at the very end, there was a name she couldn’t quite place. She clicked his profile and read through what was there. He hadn’t tried to send her a message, but he was one of her matches.

“Hm.” She traced the rim of her wine glass and toyed with the trackpad, uncertain if she should send him a message first. He-- James Logan Howlett-- was handsome in that rugged sense. Most of the men who messaged her were handsome, but this guy was... Wow. On principle, Ororo tried to avoid talking to people just based on how attractive they were. She gave everyone a chance! But him...

She thought about what to say to him, but the only thing they had in common was their interest in nature. It was silly since nature was such a broad subject. They could talk about hiking, gardening, landscaping, the weather, pollution, how sexy he looked in his picture, the different types of “nature” in the city, which parks had the best foliage, but all she could think about was how dorky she would sound. How lame would she sound shooting him a message saying “I noticed you like nature. I like plants, too! I have a fern in my townhouse!” It was so pathetic.

She groaned. Flirting was so hard! Why couldn’t she just have that natural talent of talking to men over the internet? She talked to men all day at work, but now that she had to be the aggressor, she felt so awkward. Maybe she was over thinking this.

Slamming back the legs of her wine, she tapped out a message: Hi, I’m Ororo. I noticed you liked nature. I, too, like plants. I garden sometimes and I was wondering if you’d like to talk about gardening?

She stared at her screen and hated how decidedly un-sexy or flirty her message was, but she wasn’t about to type something that sounded forced. And what kind of sexy message could you make about gardening?-- I’d love if you planted some seeds in my soil? Gross.

With a heavy sigh, she sent him the message. At least she had her pasta to console her.



“...Was wondering if you’d like to talk about gardening?” read Logan. “What the fuck...?” He read the message over again and tried to figure out if this was an opening to a conversation or discussion about work. He clicked her profile and was once again confused. She was drop-dead gorgeous so why was she acting so awkward? Wait... was he being cat-fished or some shit like that? She liked gardening, read poetry, and owned a cat. He read her profile once more and was confused if she was a real person or a really boring.

He quickly typed his response: Sure, I like nature, but I’m not really big on gardening. I mostly enjoying hiking and seeing nature that way.

He pressed sent and went back to eating. He read through several other messages-- lots of them lewd-- and felt a sense of despair. All the women he was matched with were kind of off. All of them were pretty, but they were all missing something. Logan knew he was being judgmental since they had a character limit for their profiles, but still. Would it hurt them to be a little more interesting?

There was a chiming sound and Logan looked at his computer in surprise. She responded.

OroroMunro30: I like hiking, too. I feel like I’ve traveled most of the Appalachian trails. What about you?

Huh.

Logan responded, letting her know he’d also hiked most of those trails and a few other. Something about the way she said it made her seem a little self righteous, though. And he still felt like she was a little... dull. He sent her a response, and it didn’t take long before they started a small correspondence about hiking trails and the amount of times they got caught in random storms and how they both occasionally forgot to bring water bottles and why couldn’t they start making water fountains along the trails? Through it all, Logan kept telling himself she was still a little boring.

An hour passed before he realized it.


Author's Note: I totally didn't put a disclaimer but
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING RECOGNIZABLE OR ANYTHING THAT LOOKS LIKE IT COULD BELONG TO SOMEONE. PLEASE DON'T SUE- I'M A BROKE COLLEGE STUDENT AND I EAT RAMEN AND APPLES FOR DINNER.

Logan read her message three more times before responding. He wasn’t really sure meeting up was a good idea, but his curiosity was killing him. He stared at her picture, still trying to figure out if she was real. She just looked too much like a model to be on a dating site; he didn’t want to be tricked. The thought of sitting in a coffee shop and waiting for her to arrive was a little unnerving.

He wanted to talk to Remy about it, but that was too much. Piotr was a definite no as well.

“You gon’ tell us what y t’ink of it?” Remy asked, bringing Logan back to the present. They were in his office, discussing... something. There was a paper with tiny writing in front of him. “Or y gon’ stare at your computer all day?”

Logan minimized the screen. “Uh, yeah.” He grabbed the document and read it over, a little amazed at the opportunity. The mayor was looking for contractors. There was this random initiative to make the city safer by funding the schools, housing the homeless, and increasing police in the really dangerous parts of the city. There were jobs there, building and reconstructing the dilapidated buildings. If Logan got the job, he could finally move out of his small apartment and save his construction business. “This legit?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Remy snorted. He flipped the paper sideways and pointed at a line. “These schools don’ get fixed without construction. T’ink of the money. Of the future contracts. You could make a name f’ yourself.”

Logan nodded and rubbed his chin. “I think they’re gonna go with that rich kid. Safer, y’know.”

“They might, but you gotta try!” Remy snatched the paper away from Logan and read through it once more. “Where’s your laptop? Remy’s gonna get y’ name out there.” He reached for the computer and saw Logan lunge for the monitor. Remy drew his hands back, smirking. “Bit early to be lookin’ at porn, don’t you think?” Remy turned the monitor towards him

“I wasn’t lookin’ at porn, you--”

The mouse clicked as Remy resized the screen. There was a pause. “The dating website?” Remy asked, incredulous. A smile broke Remy’s face and he didn’t mind being distracted from the task. He opened the message, ignoring Logan’s threats of firing. They’d been friends for too long and Remy didn’t even care at the moment. Logan. Was talking. To a Mingling Single. Just perfect.

“Damn,” Remy said under his breath. “She wants t’ meet?” He opened her profile and read the small caption through. Her profile was a little uninteresting. Remy wondered if she owned a cat. Probably did. “She’s pretty, Remy’ll give her that.” Logan grumbled something unintelligible. “You talked to her recently?”

“We’re thinking about meeting, of course we’ve talked recently!” Logan huffed a breath and slumped back in his seat. “I didn’t even wanna do it--”

“She said this Saturday would work great for her.” Remy snorted. “She wants to meet for coffee and not go on an actual date? Who is this tryin’ to get coffee early on a Saturday?”



“...And I don’t want to have to sit through an hour of awkward chatter. Drinking coffee only takes two minutes--”

“Ororo, I think it’s time to discuss your caffeine addiction--”

“--and if it’s good, we can stretch it out. Or if it’s really good, we can go get actual breakfast. Or lunch. Or I can just leave and come back here and get some work done,” Ororo concluded logically. She sighed and stared at his picture. He was so handsome and such a great conversationalist. They’d spent an hour talking about hiking and she couldn’t stop smiling like a goofy teen the entire time. “He’s... nice. From what I can tell.”

“Coffee seems a little... Unsexy, though.” Marie drummed her nails on the desk and shrugged. “Least you’re gettin’ out there. That’s what really counts, sug.” With a confident smile, Marie moved from around the desk and sat in one of Ororo’s leather chairs. She opened the binder she’d been carrying and sighed. “I gathered the information you asked. All the numbers, names, things like that. You got a meeting at ten... I think with that reporter? Trish--”

“Tilby, yeah.” Ororo began typing on her computer. “Thanks, Marie.”

“It’s mah job,” she smirked. She nodded at Ororo, knowing what she meant. “It’ll be great.”

“What’ll be great?” asked Scott, knocking on partially open door. He flicked his eyes from Marie to Ororo, knowing something was up, but not sure what.

“Her meeting!” Marie said excitedly, missing Ororo’s cringe. She shot up and smoothed her hands down her skirt. She hurriedly exited the room, mumbling something that sounded like a hello to Scott.

Scott shrugged off Marie’s weird attitude. “So you get my emails?” he asked, getting right to business. Ororo nodded, opening her email at that very moment. “Yeah, I was thinking we could just go with Stark. I mean, it’s not really his area but--”

“No,” Ororo said, cutting him off.

“No?” Scott sat down in the chair Marie vacated and pulled out his smartphone. “I know you think he’s an ass but, c’mon, he gets the job done.”

“My personal opinions don’t influence my professional opinions. Yes, I know he’s...” she searched for the right word, “effective, but it would be better if we went with someone else. He can take care of whatever technology problems the schools are having, but I really think hiring someone new would be smarter. Someone else would have a chance and we’d make more contracts with local businesses.”

“You really mean you want to ask for more tax payer dollars and want to make it look better by giving the money to some average joe,” Scott surmised astutely. He sat back in the chair and scratched at the back of his head. “I mean... it’s a good enough idea, but it’s gotta be done right.” He groaned. “I hate meetings, Ro.”

She smiled, feeling accomplished. “I know.”

“And the mayor--”

“You think I’m really going to have trouble convincing him of anything?” she joked. Ororo was close to the mayor, having met while he was still working in the treasury department and she a lowly desk jockey. He was her mentor, the reason she was so successful in the political world, though Charles would claim he was only successful because of her. She looked at Scott, her confident grin fading. “What?”

“I don’t want this getting messed up just because you wanted to try something different, Ro.” He rose to his feet. “Make sure this works.”
Ororo waited until Scott left her office before she huffed a breath. She loved Scott, but the guy was a dick whenever he felt like it. Not everything had to be perfect! She knew what it meant if she messed up, but there was no reason to make her feel uncertain before the meetings had even begun. She opened her calendar and drummed her fingers against her lips, thinking. A chime sounded and Ororo became instantly distracted.

He said yes.


It was just as he expected.

He glanced at his watch; the second hand ticked by quickly. He looked out the window, hoping to see a passerby who looked like her. He wondered what he was even doing. She could be anyone. She could be lying and really be a man in Texas or some kid who just wanted to have fun at someone else’s expense. People as pretty as her... There was no way she existed.

He checked his phone. Remy sent him a text and Piotr called twice- the kid was strangely invested in Logan meeting her. It was a little weird, but Logan supposed someone had to be excited about them meeting. With each passing second, Logan felt less and less excited. She was already ten minutes late. He wished he had her number so he could call her. He’d tell her to fuck off.

The waitress came up to him and gave him a forced smile. She looked a little pained, as though she was annoyed Logan was there. He wanted to roll his eyes. Yeah, kiddo, he thought, I don’t wanna be here either. He looked down at his watch. She was now eleven minutes late.

Logan didn’t have a wealth of expense in the dating field, but he knew it was always a bad sign when your date came late. It was a kiss of death in a way- it meant they didn’t really want to be there and were holding out. It struck him as funny because Logan was the one who wasn’t really interested in dating her. He figured it was his curiosity. If this one date went well, then maybe the rest of them could go well-- just not with her.

Another minute passed and Logan huffed a breath. Wow. He should’ve known better. Someone was messing with him and he wasn’t about to wait for the punchline.

Just as he got up, the bell above the cafe door chimed.

She looked like a model... with a crazy dye job.

“Ororo--”

“Yes,” she said breathily. She walked up to him and paused. “Uh, hi.” She fixed her purse higher on her shoulder and stuck out her hand. “It’s great to meet you, James.”

“Logan,” he corrected. “I just go by Logan.” He shook her small hand and stepped back. He motioned to the table and moved to pull her seat out, but she stopped him.

“I’m really sorry I’m late. I got a phone call and I had to take it.” She scooted her seat into the table and flagged the waitress over. “You already got your coffee?”

“Yeah.” He looked at the lukewarm liquid and felt annoyed once more. “Was it a business call?”

“Something like,” she trailed off. When the waitress came, she ordered some kind of latte Logan never heard of. It was intricate; they put two pumps and a shot of something into it and she demanded it be extra hot. “Do you want me to get you something? I come here a lot so I know what’s good.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You sure? It’s early. Have you had breakfast? I can buy you a scone. Or maybe a pretzel? It’s all pretty good,” she said in a rush. She hadn’t looked up at him, just chattered on. He wanted to grit his teeth; he wasn’t a fan of chatty women-- they never said anything important. “Please,” she finally sighed. “I feel really bad.”

Logan took a deep, calming breath. “It’s fine.”

She looked at the waitress, a smile on her face. “A cranberry scone.”

“I said it was fine,” Logan said, already exhausted with her.

“I heard you,” she said, a tight expression on her face. “It’s for me. I haven’t eaten breakfast.” She handed the waitress her debit card then turned back to Logan. There was a pause. “I’m really--”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. He swallowed down some more of his cool coffee and swallowed thickly. Christ, this was just as bad as he expected. “So what was the call about?” he asked, trying to break the silence.

“Oh, I was talking to an associate--”

“Though you said it wasn’t work-related.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s not exactly work related. We’re just talking about an upcoming event.” She tucked a strand of perfectly white hair behind her ear and Logan couldn’t help but want to run his fingers through it. It was just so... random. Who dyed their hair white? Wasn’t she in her thirties?

“Why’s your hair white?” She stopped talking and looked slightly surprised. “I mean, are you a model or something?”

“No,” she said softly, blushing. “Thank you, though.” She sat up. “It’s just white.”

“There’s no other answer? ‘It’s just white.’” Logan shrugged, disbelieving.

“Well, obviously there’s genetics behind it, but I just happen to have white hair.”

“Is it white everywhere?” He wanted to slap himself but the question was already out. He just knew this date wasn’t going to end well if it didn’t end within the next thirty seconds.

“Excuse you--”

“I’m sorry!” he interrupted. “Didn’t mean it, darlin. I just... Say stupid things sometimes. I’ve never seen someone with white hair before--”

“And you probably never will.” She narrowed her eyes at him, infuriated. “How could you even think a question like that?” She pointed at her face. “My eyebrows aren’t white so why should anything else be?”

“Look,” he snapped, “I’m just tryin’ to be nice--”

“Your understanding of the word is severely lacking.”

“Your coffee and scone, m’am,” said the waitress. She put down the piping hot cup, the flaky scone, and her card, then quickly backed away. The tension was palpable.

“Yours is, too.” Logan got up, unable to stand her presence. “Christ, I made a mistake, and I said I was sorry, but there’s no reason for you to act like such a bitch.”

“I’m acting like a bitch?” she laughed. “Me? I don’t have the right to be offended when you’re asking me questions about my,” she looked around, “about my pubic hair?” she whispered.

Logan snorted. “I wasn’t asking if the carpets matched the curtains. And after this, I won’t be asking you for anything else!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill. “Thanks for making me get up on a Saturday.”


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hooray for bad dates! Hopefully this captures all the elements of a bad date-- coming late, poor listening skills, inappropriate questions, arguing. Next chapter should really get the ball rolling- no more fillers!

Ororo paced around her office, angrier than she’d ever felt. She’d spent an hour telling Marie about her five minute date. Every detail had been scrutinized, re-scrutinized, dissected, inspected for political relevance, and fitted to explain her feminist ideology. Marie, who was the only person to know about the online dating “scandal”-- Ororo dubbed it a scandal in the aftermath-- listened faithfully, but she came to one conclusion: Ororo was pissed.

“I’m deleting my profile.” Ororo stopped her rant long enough to have a moment of clarity: It wasn’t worth it. This was a sign. She was better off single. This was such a mistake. She should’ve never gotten jealous and had three glasses of wine-- those were the two worst factors in decision making: strong emotions and alcohol.

“Wait!” Marie said, grabbing at the computer. She covered the keypad with her arms and looked at Ororo, trying her hardest to not laugh. “It was one bad date, okay? Everyone has one. I’m not about to let you just... throw away that profile. You know I worked hard on making it.”

Ororo rolled her eyes. “I’m the one on the damn site.”

“And?” Marie straightened up and smoothed her blazer down. “Quit actin’ like this is the end of the world. It’s gonna be fine.” Ororo huffed a breath and rolled her eyes. “Really.”

She slumped down in one of her leather seats and looked at Marie. “This is just... bad. I just wanted to meet him. He was so charming,” she said dreamily. “And handsome. I guess I was just duped.”

Marie hummed. “You weren’t duped, Ro. You barely knew the guy so this is to be expected. Next guy you’ll know better--”

“There won’t be a ‘next guy.’ I’m deleting my profile at the end of the day.”



Remy threw back his head, laughing. No matter how many times Logan told Remy, it was always funny. “You messed up. Badly.”

“You think I don’t know that?” growled Logan. “Christ,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He felt tired just thinking about it. He was loath to admit it, but he thought about that date over and over and over again. He didn’t really care about the broad, but wow, was it bad. He really did feel bad for acting like an ass, and he knew he was in the wrong. When Logan got home, he actually opened his profile to message her an apology, but something held him back.

She really overreacted and there was no way she would actually listen to him. Logan could read people and what he got from her wasn’t good. She was more of a challenge than he could handle. Just going by what she wore said more than she did... before she started yelling at him. She had one of those expensive handbags, and if there was one thing Logan knew about expensive handbags it was that the more expensive the bag, the shittier the owner was. Hers looked like it cost four months of groceries and rent.

It was a damn shame their date went south so quickly. Logan didn’t ask if she was a model for nothing. She really looked like she was meant to be on the cover of Vogue. But just because she was pretty didn’t mean she was wonderful. She was, after all, on the same random dating site as Logan. Yeah, there had to be something wrong with her. There was no other reason she would get so angry at his question.

That’s what he told himself.

“It was a mistake; I tried apologizing.”

Remy clapped his hands together and laughed. “You can’t ask no petite questions about her... hair,” he said, waving his hand around. Remy spun around in his chair and opened her profile. “Damn. What Remy wouldn't give to just have one night... Y’ said her hair was white?”

Logan nodded. “Like fresh snow.” Remy whistled and Logan wanted to, too. It was silly, but her hair and the color reminded him of home. Not that he liked it. “It’s over so it doesn’t matter.”

“Sure, it doesn’t.” Remy closed the window and stood. “So you ready for your meeting with the mayor? And Remy tol’ you he would meet with you.”

Logan nodded, then shook his head. “Well, I’m s’posed to meet with him next week, but I'm not sure exactly when-- I think I'm gonna get a phone call or something. Anyways, I’m planning on putting together a model, a little speech. Something to wow them. A portfolio, obviously, but I think a model will really impress them.” Logan opened his office desk and took out a leather folder with the tentative model sketch. He handed it to Remy and waited for his friend to look it over. Though he’d never admit it, he was anxious.

Business had been slow the past few years. Nobody wanted to take a chance with a new construction company that mostly worked on home additions. Logan knew he had what it took-- his work was always well received-- but that didn’t always translate into jobs. He needed the contract with the mayor. He’d finally move out of the stupid building he was renting and into something a little fancier. It wasn’t all bad, being in the small building, he met Remy and Piotr since they worked next door, but still. A bigger place would always be nicer. He’d be able to hire more employees.

"Looks good, Logan."

“Thanks, man,” he said.

Remy waved his hand. “Think nothin’ of it. Just make sure you give your pal Remy a job when you move up.” Remy rose to his feet, winking. “I gotta get back, lunch break’s over.”



“... Yeah, we’ll talk later. Are we still going to the gym later?” asked Ororo. Marie nodded. “Great.” She watched her friend walk out the door, then stand aside so Scott could enter. Ororo looked up, pausing her typing. “Scott. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Scott dropped a paper on her desk. “You see this?” he asked, obviously unhappy.

Ororo looked back at her monitor. “I receive all three major newspapers this city prints, two web subscriptions to lesser known ones, and I often read blogs. So, yes, Scott, I saw that.” Her meeting with Trish Tillby didn’t exactly end well. The reporter kept pushing for answers on something unrelated and Ororo decided to treat the tabloid twit with the same amount of respect. It was going to be fine, though. Ororo already scheduled another meeting with her. “It’s fine.”

“‘A fifteen percent tax hike in the name of construction. While the inner city is in need of better schools, there has been an increase in police presence. Some citizens claim this is counterintuitive; racial profiling has already been exhibited,’” Scott read, his voice edged with anger. He slammed the paper down once more and tapped at the headline. “This isn’t what we need, right now. What I need right now,” he grouched. “I got chewed out by Jean because I came home late last night.”

Ororo sighed and looked at Scott. “I came home late, too, Scott.”

“Yeah, but you always leave late.” He sat down. “You’re single.”

Ororo clenched her jaw, then released. “Thanks, Scott.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Look, Ororo, you know I didn’t mean it like that. And if you’re looking, I know this great guy. Well... Jean does. They met... I don’t know... somewhere. Anyways, she showed him your picture and he was open to meeting--”

“You showed some stranger my picture?” The irony was not lost on Ororo, but this was different. “Scott, that’s rude--”

“It wasn’t me, it was Jean.”

“Oh, yeah, Scott: Sell out your pregnant wife. Real honorable,” Ororo snapped.

“Use my pregnant wife to make me feel bad: Real honorable,” Scott replied. He quirked a smile. “C’mon, Ro. We’re not in high school. She’s just trying to help--”

“I’ve been helping myself,” she hissed.

“Really? You went on a date? Is that what you were talking to Marie about?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Ororo felt lead drop in her stomach. She flicked her eyes downwards and felt her face grow hot. She fidgeted. “Well, yes. But that’s unrelated. You can’t go around showing my picture off! Who knows what kind of psycho is lurking out there? They could be really inappropriate.”

Scott gave her a weird look. “Uh, sure. Are you talking about something else?” he asked, leaning forward.

“No!” She drew herself straighter up. “No. I just don’t want to be matched up without my knowledge and I don’t want to be treated like I’m some inexperienced kid. I’ve been working this job for a while, Scott. I know what I’m doing,” she finished, expertly distracting the conversation. No way she was going to admit she’d been trying online dating.

Scott began patting his front down. “Yeah, well, it’s already done. Jean got the guy’s number. She said she’d text you about it later. And speaking of texts,” Scott trailed off. He tugged his phone out of his pocket and read the screen. “I gotta get back. I think Bolivar Trask is calling; I still don’t trust that guy.” He stood up. “Make sure you get this fixed, Ro. This looks bad on everyone. You have a date for the meetings?”

“The first one should be next Monday? Marie already sent out emails and talked to them.” Ororo tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. “Relax, Scott. I know what I’m doing. I’m a professional.”



Just as Logan waved Remy goodbye, his email chimed. He pulled out his phone and cursed the damn thing. For a smartphone, it was really slow. His calls were always coming in late, his texts rarely sounded, and his emails rarely came in. He opened it anyways, dimly aware of the fact that it would just be easier to make the dedicated email icon sync with his actual email address. There was an email from the mayor. The meeting date had been set. He was set to meet with him and his advisors at nine thirty on Monday.



There were articles about addiction all over the internet, in books, magazines, and sometimes there were in-depth interviews on the news. Some people talked about how they’d go in for a root canal and leave with a debilitating addiction to pain killers; others talked about how they grew up around the wrong crowd and just wanted to forget. One thing was common amongst the interviews and articles on addiction survivors: It didn’t take much to backslide.

Some said it was a bad day, or a random smell. The biggest trigger?-- People.

They always said they could go years without seeing their dealer, or their friends, or their fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters, but one hello could make all those years meaningless. The hold their past relationships had on them was so insurmountable that the job acquired, the beloved family and friends, and the achieved dreams would mean shit because of one person.

Logan groaned as he looked at his online dating profile, trying to find relevance to his thoughts.

She was a stranger and yet all those feelings of anger and annoyance and awkwardness came back to the surface, only this time they were coupled with fear. He’d fucked up on grand proportions and he had no idea what he was trying to do. He knew he had to apologize, he just... couldn’t figure out what to say.

The day started out so well.

He made sure he arrived at the mayor’s office early, his model in a special case. He’d made sure his presentation was perfect, he just had the model just in case he got lost or stumbled. And anyways, it was fun to make. It was like model trains, only this time there wasn’t manual. He could be creative and let some of his passion into the project. If he ever felt nervous, looking at a labor of love would help ground him.

The conference room was almost indistinguishable from the other rooms the Southern secretary ushered him into. She gave him a quick smile, then asked him for his portfolio. She remarked that his early presence would be noted by the mayor, especially his advisors. And when Logan let out a sigh of relief, she asked him if he wanted any coffee. He told her the stuff would make his nerves worse, but water would be appreciated.

Logan watched her leave, his portfolio in hand. After five minutes, she returned, with a bottle of water and four copies of his portfolio. She handed him his water and portfolio, then stared at the model. “You made this?” she asked. Logan nodded, a smirk on his face. She whistled. “Well, I’ll be. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” he said, feeling his pride swell. He pointed at the entrance. “Took me the whole week just to get that the right size. So thanks for the early email.”

She shrugged. “My job, but you’re welcome.” She moved around the model and poked the model swings. “The detail... You’re some kind of artist, Mr. Howlett.”

“Thanks, again, kiddo. You’re really making this a lot easier--”

“Kiddo?” she asked flatly.

Logan put up his hands; his shit date trained him quickly. “Bad habit. I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Marie.”

“Marie. Nice name.” He put his hands into his pockets. “I meant no disrespect. You just look... real young.” He rubbed his chin and eyed her suspiciously. “You don’t mind my askin’, but where’s the accent from?” he asked, distracting the mishap.

She sighed, her shoulders drooping. “Mississippi. I’ve been trying to drop it, but it’s persistent. Most people notice it when I talk to them for a long time.” She quirked a smile. “Like now.”

“Hey, I know about accents. Some people say I have one.”

Marie furrowed her brows and nodded vigorously. “Yeah, you do!” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Where you from?”

“Canada, eh.” Marie paused before letting out a loud laugh. She clapped her hands together and Logan was instantly reminded of Remy. “Hey, keep it down! I don’t want them knowing about my bacon,” he joked. Marie grabbed her stomach, laughing harder. He furrowed his brows and frowned for her benefit but it was kind of nice making her laugh so hard. Just from their brief interaction, Logan knew she was a sweet kid.

When she finally calmed down, she clapped Logan on the shoulder. “Oh, I’m putting in a good word for you.” She glanced at the wall clock and straightened up. “And just in time. Lemme go get them.”

Logan nodded and opened his bottle of water. He took three deep gulps and practiced his breathing exercises. He closed his eyes, trying to get into a relaxed state, but his heart was racing. It was now or never. The glass door opened and Marie stepped aside, holding the door open.

The mayor rolled through first, his trademark smile plastered on his face. Logan didn’t vote for the guy, but if he had, it would’ve been for Charles Xavier. The bald man hadn’t said a word to Logan and it was still nice. Logan just figured Charles had a naturally calming presence. “Hello, Mr. Howlett.”

“Logan, please.” Logan stuck out his hand and shook it. “It’s a--” He looked up and felt sick. Recovering quickly, he looked back at the mayor, but it was too late-- the mayor was glancing over his shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, Logan, let me extend the courtesy-- I never did like the honorific. It’s so... stuffy. Call me Charles.”

“Charles,” Logan mumbled, forcing his eyes to stay on the mayor. “Right.”

The mayor’s smile persisted. “Shall we begin?” The mayor’s two other advisors quickly sat down, never once introducing themselves. Not that it was necessary. For one thing, they sat in front of little nameplates and secondly- it was her. Even if Logan never spoke to the other guy, he could always talk to her... Not that he would.

“To start, thank you for meeting with me.” Logan glanced at her; she wasn’t looking at him, more focused on the proposal. He tried to not take it personally. It was a business setting and this was her job. But how the fuck did she not know it was him? Dragging his eyes from her, he began his speech.

Fifteen minutes in, she spoke.

“Mr. Howlett, could you explain your model?” she asked, still not looking up. She wrote something down, the pen making a subtle scratching noise. When she stopped scribbling, she looked up. The look in her eyes... It was like she didn’t even know him.

Professional, Logan. This is her job.

“Well, when I heard that this was an initiative to help inner city kids, I knew the schools would be a focus. I checked out the area--”

“You physically went yourself or you sent someone else?” she asked, her voice flat and immediate.

“I went myself. Did some research, too...” He opened his leather binder and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to her. “I found that the history of the place wasn’t all bad. In fact, there used to be a park. You’d never know since they knocked it down to make more apartment complexes, but yeah.” He fought the nagging in the back of his mind. “And when I went there, I noticed there wasn’t a park anywhere close. The nearest one was maybe twenty minutes away. Now it don’t--doesn’t!” he corrected. Shit. “Doesn’t,” he continued, “seem like much, but kids get kidnapped all the time and nobody wants to know what happens after that.”

She didn’t flinch, nod, or smile. She just blinked, wrote something down, then looked back up at him. The mayor, however, nodded. Logan hadn’t even noticed the other advisor. The guy was almost forgettable.

“So I thought I’d build a better playground for the young kids. Not just a steel swing set, but some slides, monkey bars, all that.” He turned his model towards her and pointed to a brown patch. “There’s even an area for gardening.” He looked straight into her eyes.

She didn’t. Even. Blink.

Who the fuck was this woman?

She looked down, scribbled something, then looked back up.

“Logan,” started the other advisor, “I’ve been reading your proposal and it seems as though you want to go over our budget by...” he read through the page, “two million. I have to ask: Since you’re asking for more money, are there any plans to make the place more... I suppose environment-friendly is the term I’m getting at.”

Logan read the nameplate in front of the male advisor: Scott Summers. “Well, yeah. I plan on using recycled materials wherever possible, but I want this place to last. I wanna make sure that my job is nothing like the last guy’s. And for that to happen, I’ll have to go over the budget.”

“Yes, but I asked if you planned on making it environmentally friendly,” Scott repeated.

Logan looked at his model, feeling like he was about to lose. Money. People always ever cared about money. “Mr. Summers, I know what you asked, and I meant what I said. If you wanna save the city money in the long run, you’ve gotta make sure the school is in good shape. The building’s gotta be sound-- the current building has cost the students nearly sixty days off from school. Now it don’t seem like much now, but those days add up. Who knows what could’ve been taught? The students the teachers could’ve reached? It was lost because there was molding from bad plumbing, cracked ceilings, and faulty electrical wiring.” Logan paused. “I know I’m asking for more, but those kids are worth it. Because if their schools aren’t good, those teachers will feel it, those students will feel it, and those thugs hanging around the schools will feel it, too. It’s a cycle. And I’m not saying the building is top priority, but it matters.”

Logan glanced at Ororo. He was almost positive she was smiling. When she caught his eyes, she blinked, then began scribbling. Well, Logan figured, it was something.

The room was quiet for a moment, then Charles spoke up. “Thank you, Logan, for your wonderful presentation. It was very interesting,” he said, his smile wider.

Logan shook the mayor’s hand. “Thank you for your time.” He stepped back and watched the advisors follow suit. They stood in perfect unison, and Logan got the sense that they probably carried out every whim the Mayor had; they wore the scent “natural born leader” well. Scott tugged the coat of his jacket smoother and Ororo tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear. She wore it in a bun. Logan liked it better free.

“Mr. Howlett--” Ororo began.

“Logan,” he reminded her.

“Logan,” she said, her voice staying immediate, though this time it was... edged? It was sweet but there was obvious tension behind it. “Thank you for your presentation.” She allowed Logan time to say you’re welcome before stepping away. Scott relayed the same message as Ororo, but Logan wasn’t really paying attention. When they turned to walk away, Logan trailed his eyes on her backside and felt regret for another reason: Her ass was literally perfect.

Marie stepped inside once everyone important left, a brow cocked. She saw the looks Logan gave Ororo. “Mr. Howlett, my associates are meeting with several other businesses this week, so allow them about two weeks time to send you a notification. If two weeks passes and you have not received a message, please feel free to call any one of these numbers...” Marie handed him four embossed cards-- one for the mayor, one for Scott, one for Marie, and finally, one for Ororo-- “though it should be safe to assume that the Mayor has decided to go with another company. But again, if you feel as though there was a communication error, do not hesitate to call.” She stepped back and smiled. “Personally, speaking, I think you did great. The mayor was impressed.”

“Really?” Logan asked, genuinely surprised. “I couldn’t tell. I was more focused on his advisors.”

Marie waved her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about them. Scott will run the numbers but Ororo’s really the one you gotta impress.”

“Yeah?”

Marie nodded. “She and the mayor are like this.” Marie crossed her index and middle finger.

“And do you know if I did?-- impress her, I mean.”

Marie hummed. “Well, she’s hard to read when she’s in business mode, but I think you left a lasting impression on her.” Marie squeezed his bicep and smiled. “Have a good day, Mr. Howlett.”

Ororo forced her smile. This was becoming all too frustrating and she wasn’t sure when it would end. “...Just moved here and I think he’s great,” Jean finished. She blocked Ororo from the door and chewed her lower lip. “I know you’re not excited--”

“No kidding, Jean. You know I hate when you set me up on dates: We literally never match. Who was the last guy... Kurt?”

“Hey, Kurt liked you. And you guys are friends!” she argued.

“Yes, both things are true but my point still stands.” Ororo palmed her face. The girl was helpful to a fault, and the fault was how it became annoying so quickly. Some people pushed and Jean was a pusher. It was all done from love but sometimes Ororo wished Jean loved her less. Or would listen better! “I’m just not in the mood for this.”

Jean squeezed Ororo’s wrist, getting Ororo’s attention back. Ororo peeked through her fingers; Jean gave her a kind look. “I wasn’t planning on doing this. Honest. I know you hate blind dates, but I’m doing this not only for the guy, but Scott as well.” Jean glanced over her shoulder, finger waved at her husband, then looked back. “I hate to say this, but Scott doesn’t have a many friends. And I think I know why.”

Ororo dropped her hand to her hip, unsure of what to say. “We work long hours, Jean...”

“You work long hours yet you still have friends,” Jean pointed out. She looked down. “I think it’s because Scott can be a dick sometimes.” She missed Ororo sucking her lip into her mouth to keep from laughing. “I feel horrible saying that, but he’s just very... focused. And it comes across poorly at times.”

Ororo struggled with the smile on her face. Jean could be described in many ways, but dishonest wasn’t one of them. She was always usually very upfront about things, though she always tried to soften the blow. It was sweet, but this was way too hilarious. “But how do I fit into this?” Ororo asked, refocusing.

“Well, I asked Scott to hang out with Hank, but he claimed he was ‘busy’ with ‘work,’” Jean said, making air quotes, “and I got tired of it. He needs more friends. He can’t just text us-- I’m his wife and you’re my best friend.”

“I can still be friends with Scott,” Ororo laughed.

“I mean, yeah. You have to!” She put up her hands, her wedding band catching light. “He’s got maybe three friends. If you stopped texting him, barbecues and hangouts would become really awkward. So, I thought... Maybe if I set you up with Hank, it wouldn’t be so hard to get Scott to click. And look,” Jean turned around, “they’re laughing.”

Ororo watched Scott laugh with her date. She knew Jean was making up an excuse, but there was undeniable truth to what was said. Ororo felt guilted into more trouble than she wanted. “Buy me alcohol and I’ll be nice.”

“Yes, of course!” Jean threw her arms around Ororo and squeezed. “Thanks, Roro. This means a lot.”

“Yeah, whatever. Be thankful it’s bad luck to deny pregnant women.” Ororo opened the door to the diner and stepped inside. Scott and the mystery man had been waiting just inside. “Hey, Scott. Hello... Hank?”

“Well, Henry, but Hank works just as well.” He stuck out his hand and Ororo marveled at how hirsute he was. He shook her hand, the grip firm and his hand warm. “Your name is very interesting. Do you mind my asking its origin?”

“It’s African. I’m not entirely sure from which country.” Ororo took her hand from his and looked past him. “So where are we sitting? Do you know?” she asked Scott.

Scott pointed his thumbs over his shoulder. “Yeah; right this way.”


The date went well, something that shocked Ororo. Hank was a genius and his intellect really impressed Ororo. Their dinner was only supposed to be an hour, but it somehow dragged on for two and a trip to get ice cream in a very particular part of town. (Jean claimed cravings.) She just couldn’t stop talking to Hank, and when he spoke, she was even more loath to leave. He was just so... interesting. Scott and Hank exchanged numbers when Jean claimed she felt sick. Ororo believed it, but a part of her knew Jean was lying to get Hank some one-on-one time.

“This was fun,” Hank said in the middle of their conversation. He poked his spoon into his ice cream and looked up at Ororo. “You’re very intelligent, Ororo. I don’t understand why you’re a grey suit.”

Ororo grinned. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Hank put his hands up in defense and Ororo tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know politicos aren’t always respected. Most people think we’re just trying to crush the little guy, but I got into politics to help the little guy.”

“Really?” Hank put his spoon down. “How does that work?”

“Well,” she began, “everyone needs a helping hand. A platform. I am that platform.”

Hank smirked. “How noble. A modern day knight.”

“Hey!” Ororo poked him with her spoon and feigned indignation. “My armor is far more fashionable.” She giggled and brushed her bangs out of the way. She reminded herself to get a trim this week. In the back of her mind, she became acutely aware that some jerk kid was staring at her hair. “But I do think my work is noble.”

“Ah, yes,” Hank agreed. “Fighting off the press with legal jargon and confusing questions. Have you blamed any unrelated party recently?”

“You know those meddlesome hippies are always to blame for tax hikes.” Ororo’s phone buzzed and she quickly grabbed at it. She looked at Hank, repentant. “Habit.” Hank nodded, unbothered. It was Jean, asking if they had made out yet. Ororo rolled her eyes. She swore that redhead was still thirteen at heart. She saw the time and her eyes bulged. “Wow, it’s late.”

Hank looked at his watch. “Huh. It is. Time flies when you’re having fun.” He glanced at her nervously and Ororo couldn’t help but feel a little flattered.

“It does.” She rose. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Hank put a hand to his chest and swooned. “A knight, indeed,” he said, his voice in a falsetto. Ororo laughed and gently shoved him. That nagging only got more persistent. She turned her head and glared, but the kid was looking at his friends. The little punk.

When they got to his sedan, they were faced with that awkward pause. She wasn’t sure how to proceed and Hank was beginning to chatter on nervously. She wondered if he was going to bone up the courage to ask her out again, or was she going to have to come out with it. “This was fun, Ororo,” Hank finally concluded.

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said softly.

“Maybe we could... do it again sometime.” Ororo sucked in a deep breath. “As friends?” he quickly covered, disappointment in his tone.

“Hank,” she started, putting a hand on his forearm, “this won’t make much sense, but I recently did something very stupid and it left me really... annoyed. It wasn’t anything too dramatic, but I’m not really in the mood for dating just yet.”

“Oh.” He thought it over. “Am I allowed to ask who was the moron who ruined it for me?”

Ororo should’ve been offended, but the way Hank said it made her smile. And she was just so relieved she could finally tell someone. She wanted to tell Marie, but now that Logan would be working with the mayor, there could be a conflict of interest. And Jean and Scott were always going to stay far removed from the situation. Her pride kept her from telling any of her other friends.

“I signed up on a dating website and it was just a horrible experience. I won't name names.” How could she? The world was getting way too small and she didn't know if Hank knew Logan.

Hank’s eyes widened. “I know what you mean.”

“Really?” asked Ororo, excited. “What happened?”

“My date turned out to be the exact opposite of who she said she was,” Hank huffed. He eyed her. “It’s a common occurrence and I shouldn’t have been so shocked, but it still really hurt. So I understand if you’re a little... jaded.” He gave her a confident look. “I don’t mind waiting. Especially not for you.”

Ororo tinkered a laugh and hugged Hank, doing away with any unfamiliarities. “Jean gave you my number so you’d better call.” She hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder and stepped away. “Have a great night, Hank.”

“You don’t want me walking you to your car?” he suddenly asked.

Ororo waved him off. “I’m a knight, remember?” She pointed at the full parking lot. “And I’m right there. No big deal.” She turned on her heel and began walking. She turned back around when she felt him staring. “Night!” she waved, feeling much better.

She wasn’t alone. Someone else had been duped by someone else. It was a relief. She opened her purse and took out her keys. Maybe she would tell Marie. It was a relief letting someone know, but the burden was still there. Maybe talking about it more would help her move on. But then again, she didn’t want to sound whiny. She shrugged. Life was too short to not vent every now and then.

She could feel Hank still staring so she turned around and waved.

He’d already pulled off.

For a moment, Ororo literally froze. If someone was watching her, chances were that they’d stay away. Not everyone who looked actually approached Ororo, and she was used to getting stares. Her brown skin and white hair drew attention no matter where she went. She was instantly reminded of that punk kid in the ice cream shop and relaxed. The teen was maybe a buck twenty soaking wet.

Chuckling to herself, she continued walking towards her car. The staring was still there, but now that Ororo had an idea of who her adversary was, she was much more relaxed. When he actually stepped out from behind a lamp post, she was surprised, but not panicking.

“Hey,” he started. Ororo gave him a condescending look, and kept walking. This little boy could not have been serious!

And then she heard his footsteps. “Hey, lady, I’m talking to you!” Ororo continued on, a little anxious, but her car was maybe fifty feet away. “Hey!”

“I know you hear my friend talking to you.”

Ororo swallowed and stopped. This was escalating quickly and she knew that if she didn’t address the stupid kids, it would only get worse. Survival class always said to fight back, so fight back she would. “I’m not deaf. I heard you. I didn’t respond because I don’t talk to little kids.” She glanced at her wrist watch. “Don’t you kids have curfews?”

“I don’t know, grandma, do I?” asked the first kid nastily.

“Grandma,” Ororo repeated. “You’re talking about my hair, aren’t you? Clever. Must’ve taken more brain cells than you have. I’ll get going now-- to help give your mind a rest?” she turned again, only to bump into the second kid. How did he move so quietly?

“You’re way too fit to be someone’s grandma. And that purse ain’t something most grandmas would have.” He reached for it; Ororo pulled it away. The first kid, now standing behind her, grabbed it. Ororo stumbled, and the second laughed. “Easy! We don’t want her falling. She might break her hip!”

“That’s it!” Ororo snarled. She slammed her foot down on the first kid’s inner step, then threw her elbow into his stomach. By the time the second kid reacted, the first kid was doubled over and groaning. She curled her hand into a fist and cracked it against the second kid’s nose. Blood began gushing out and Ororo suddenly felt grateful for those extra hours at the gym.

The first kid grabbed Ororo’s hair and yanked hard. She let out a yell, then reached back to scratch at the hand. Her heart pounded faster when the second kid held his nose and reached into his pocket, a wild look in his eyes. Ororo kicked out, hitting him in the groin, then struggled with the first kid.

A second loud crack brought the first kid down.

Ororo held her head, looking up at her helper.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Ororo huffed, her hands on her knees. She touched her head and groaned. “He ripped some of my hair out.”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” asked Logan. “You were nearly mugged.” He gently took her shoulder and placed another on her waist, helping her stand upright.

“I had it under control.” Her head throbbed and her fist felt bruised. “You little cretins!” she shouted at their retreating forms. “‘I’ll remember your faces!” Logan chuckled, his hand still on her waist. She looked at it as though it was offending her. “What’re you even doing here? Stalking me?”

“This was pure chance,” he said, not at all bothered. He stepped back and began picking up the little miscellaneous items that fell from her purse. She owned a lot of pens. He was instantly reminded of their meeting, but he was already thinking about bringing it up. “Not like Monday.”

“No, not all,” she said huffed. She thanked him and quickly put her pens away. “Speaking of which, I think it would be nice to... get things straightened out.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I acted like an ass on our date and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, but I did. And I won’t try and make up excuses, but I do want you to know I’m sorry.” He looked at Ororo, waiting.

She narrowed her eyes, assessing him. It was a decent apology-- not perfect, but decent. And anyways, she just wanted to get home and pass out. This night went from being bad, to great, to terrible. Being around Logan for more than twenty seconds of her own free will was exhausting. “Okay.” She turned on her heel and began closing the distance between herself and her car.

“Okay?” Logan repeated, his voice exasperated. “You don’t forgive me?”

“Why is it important that I do? I’m more than capable of acting professionally around you,” she called over her shoulder. Logan grabbed her elbow and adrenaline made her slap him. She gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, freaked. “Oh, Logan! I’m so sorry! I was just--”

“Okay,” he interrupted, holding his red jaw and glaring at her.

Her apology died at his words. She slacked her jaw and raised a brow. “Wow. Okay, then,” she mocked. She turned around to start walking, then turned around again. “No, you know what: I’m not sorry. You grabbed me after I got into a fight with muggers. I’m not guilty.”

Logan gave her a wild look. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why’re you so goddamn difficult?” he snarled. He stepped back. “I’m trying to be nice but you are not making this any easier. You’re the same bitch I met at that coffee shop.”

“I’m glad to hear it! Why would I waste my precious time on someone so hotheaded and disgusting?”

“Hotheaded? You’re the one yelling at me in a fucking parking lot!” Logan shook his head once and threw his hands up. “I don’t fight with women,” he said, his voice calmer.

“I’d call you a sexist but that would almost be too generous a term for you,” she snarled. She turned again and walked towards her car. When he continued following her, she turned back around. “Quit. Following. Me.”

“You’re parked next to me,” he snarled. “And even with a body and face like yours, your attitude is just about the biggest boner killer I’ve ever come across.” He reached into his pocket and grabbed his keys. “No wonder you were on that site.”

Ororo narrowed her eyes and faced him. “What?” She hated that he said it; she was already embarrassed that she was on it herself.

Logan leaned in close. “No normal man would wanna spend longer than ten seconds in your company.”

“You were on it, too, short stop,” she bit. “I guess that says something about you.”

“Short stop?” Logan scoffed. “My height didn’t stop you from messaging me.”

“It’s called a mistake. Look it up.”

“I have and your picture and cheesy biography is right there with it!” he shouted. He caught her wrist before it connected with his cheek a second time. He spun her around and slammed her back against his truck door. Her knees buckled, giving him the advantage of being able to tower over her. “I don’t fight women, but I damn sure won’t let myself get hit for telling the truth.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

He flicked his eyes over her face. “Yeah, you wanted to.” He heard her breathing hitch and he traced his thumb over her wrist. He slid his eyes over her body and felt regret that wouldn’t go further. He stepped back and smirked. Just because he hadn’t been dating didn’t mean he stopped having sex; Remy and Piotr just assumed. And even if he had been “out of commission” for a while, he would still be able to tell when a woman was aroused.

Ororo Munroe was definitely aroused. Her pupils were dilated, her eyelashes fluttered. But the kiss she planted on him was a pretty clear sign as well.

It was a little shocking, but apparently she was full of surprises.

His hands slid down her waist, to settle on the curve of her backside. He pressed his front forward and she made a small noise in the back of her throat. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer. When he broke away to get some kind of answer, she latched onto his throat, sucking hard. He groaned, squeezing her. They were an unlikely pair, and he hated her guts, but she knew what he liked. His cock swelled in his pants.

She moved from his neck, planting kisses along his jawline. Logan reached down and hooked her leg over his thigh. He wasn’t sure where this was going, or why this was even happening, but he’d be damned if he stopped it. “Christ, darlin,” he groaned. He put a hand on her hip and another on her butt, guiding her to grind against him. When she did, it was almost too perfect. He needed to get some control over the situation.

He caught her mouth and heard her moan into the kiss. The arms around his neck tightened and she began rocking faster, as though searching for her own release. The thought drove Logan crazy and he pressed her against the doorframe even more firmly than before. His erection strained against his zipper. He really didn’t give a damn if they had sex outside, he was so ready.

He didn’t, but apparently a couple nearby did. “Hey! Get a room!” they shouted. There were several laughs and Logan was thankful he wasn’t fourteen anymore.

Ororo stopped immediately. She pushed him away and looked at him wide eyed. And dammit, but she looked really cute flustered. “Oh, no,” she said softly.

“Hey,” Logan said calmly, touching her wrist. “Ororo--”

“No, stop.” She jerked her arm away. “Uh, God, this is bad.” She grabbed her keys quickly and opened her car door. Logan, who for some inexplicable reason, kept calling after her, trying to get her to stay. Instead, she quickly pulled out of the parking lot, making Logan feel weird. Like he’d failed. Like he’d lost something.

He forced himself to shrug it off.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it's a little longer, but I write these on the fly and this is what my inspiration was going with. Also! WHO LOVES WHEN WOMEN FIGHT BACK? (note the use of helper and not savior because I'm sick of reading about dudes "saving.") Sorry for the cliffhanger, but you'll find out what happens in like 24 hours.

Author's Note: I went back through and fixed the errors. Also: Thank QTFic for this chapter because this idea came straight from her review. Not that I haven't loved all the other reviews-- they're what made me get section off time to post a chapter


Meditation was a task that was always beneficial. The sense of calm it could bring coupled with the various mental and physical benefits assured Ororo that it was a path she should try. However, every time she tried to calm her thoughts, she found it was impossible. She rarely betrayed her emotions, but she was always thinking, always feeling. She was human, therefore multifaceted and complicated intrinsically, but she wasn’t doing herself any favors.

Her thoughts raced from how it felt to kiss Logan, to the spreadsheets treasury sent her, to the lunch she was dying to eat, to how badly she needed to buy more lightbulbs, back to how Logan’s lips felt on hers, to the strange sense of guilt she had concerning Hank, to the interview she had with Trish Tillby in a few days, to the random perfume purchase she made the other day when she should’ve bought more lightbulbs. She was... distracted.

She wished she had the ability to quiet her thoughts and focus, but she couldn’t. It was confusing, hating someone so much. She wondered why she hated Logan so fiercely. Her bad date was beginning to become less of a reason and more of an excuse. Granted, she was still justified at being disenchanted with his inappropriate line of questioning, but it was becoming hard to reconcile it with his obvious sense of community. He cared for strangers and helped out in fights even when the muggers could’ve had guns. (She was still pissed about her hair and was getting it trimmed Saturday morning.) Maybe he wasn’t all bad?

No, she told herself. She couldn’t excuse his crappy behavior just because he kissed her and almost got her off in a parking lot.

“I’m taking my lunch,” Marie said, knocking on Ororo’s door. Ororo looked up at Marie, then saw the plastic container of what looked like rice and some kind of meat.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ororo smiled. “I think you’re old enough to eat on your own.”

Marie gave Ororo a strange look. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Yes,” she said, though it sounded more like a question. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Marie stepped inside, a brow raised. “You’ve been acting strangely ever since that Logan guy came in.” She took another step in, her heel making a click on the floor. “Course the way he looked at you...” Marie trailed off and took another step inside, her heels clicking. The sound became louder with each close step. “Do you two know each other?”

Ororo scoffed. “No--”

“You’re lying.” Marie slammed the door shut. She took slow steps towards Ororo, an accomplished look on her face. She sat down, then set her lunch on Ororo’s desk. She opened the container, pulled out the fork, and stabbed it into her rice. “I have thirty minutes, so don’t leave out details.”

“I have work to do, Marie. I can’t gossip with you--”

“So you do know him!”

“--Over things that didn’t happen,” concluded Ororo. She turned back to her computer and chewed her inner lip. She glanced at Marie; she was eating her lunch, still waiting. Ororo deflated and huffed a breath. “He’s... the guy.”

Marie’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious!” She quickly chewed her rice and swallowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Sitting back in her chair, Ororo rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. It should’ve been obvious, but she supposed if it wasn’t obvious already, maybe Ororo was making up excuses. “Conflict of interest.”

“Logan hans’t gotten the contract yet. You haven’t given him your good word,” winked Marie. She shifted forward and moved her fork around her lunch. “Why haven’t you?”

Shrugging, Ororo tried to come up with a response. “The short answer is money and experience, and Logan is asking for more than we can give for skills we can’t be sure on. Scott’s still running the numbers.” She fiddled with her fingers, weaving them through one another to avoid looking at Marie. Lying was always harder when someone was watching. “Don’t get me wrong, I was impressed.”

“I was, too. He’s a nice guy.” She swallowed her rice. “Told him I’d put in a good word.”

“You did?” she asked softly. Ororo cocked her head. “Why?”

Marie put her hand over her mouth. “Cause I liked him and he has real promise. He’s a good guy.” She swallowed thickly. “I mean, what he said to you was wrong, but I still liked him.” She paused, then grinned. “And I think he just wanted you to be impressed.”

“Yeah, well I am,” Ororo said darkly. She rolled her eyes. “I still think he’s an ass. And the other night--”

“The other night?”

“You know how I went out with Scott and Jean.”

“On that blind date, yes.”

“Well, it ended up going really well. Hank’s a really wonderful guy--”

“Nobody’s thinking about no ‘Hank,’ Munroe!” Marie looked over her shoulder, wary that she’d been too loud. She looked back, eager. “I think you and Logan--”

“Are a bad idea!”

“Why?” argued Marie. “It was a bad date and you barely knew him for a month. The guy probably got nervous--”

“So this is my fault now?”

“You do have the tendency to either overreact or under-react.” She assessed Ororo. “You told me you yelled at him, so it wasn’t under-reacting.”

“I can’t believe you’re siding with him!” Ororo exclaimed. She put her hands up. “Do you even wanna know what happened?” She waved a hand out. “Why I’m distracted?” Marie nodded. “After the date with Hank, I walked back to my car and these two idiots tried to steal my Prada bag. The white one?” Marie nodded knowingly. “It was fine-- I fought back and broke this one kid’s nose--”

“One kid? There were more?” Marie asked nervously.

“Yes, but it was fine. Logan was somehow there.” Ororo exhaled through her nostrils. “So random, but he was there. And he helped me.”

“He saved you?” Marie put a hand to her chest. “That’s so romantic, Ororo,” she swooned.

Ororo wanted to vomit. “I was doing just fine, thank you for the vote of confidence.” She bit her inner cheek. “It started off well. I thanked him for his help and then the next thing I know we’re arguing and I go to slap him and then we’re...” trailing off, she looked at her lap. This was probably the most embarrassing part. Not making out in public like a horny teen, but liking it so much. She wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of hooking up with someone she hated or if it was the fact that it was in public and her adrenaline was still high or maybe it was how it could potentially become risky if Logan got the contract... She was a mess, she knew. “Well, I couldn’t go through with... whatever was going to happen,” she said. It was a half truth.

When reality set in and Ororo had the chance to realize her actions, she panicked. She wasn’t repulsed by what she’d done, but she was... Well, she didn’t know. In the moment it was the embarrassment of getting caught, and when she got home she found she wasn’t bothered. It was thrilling acting so out-of-character. It was like she was living in an action movie, except she was the hero. She went from kicking butt and taking names to hooking up with someone too handsome for words. So, no, she wasn’t necessarily ashamed of what she’d done.

Just... Why did it have to be him?

Ugh. She was a mess and she wished she could quiet her mind.



Logan twirled the card in his hand, staring at the number. It was after hours so there was a chance she wouldn’t answer; in the even that she didn’t, he’d just message her on her dating profile. She hadn’t deleted it yet, something that made him a little happy and a little annoyed. He wasn’t jealous, but if someone was getting the chance he fucked up, he’d be a little more than pissed. Especially now that he knew she was amazing... against car?- they didn’t have sex but Logan knew she’d be a hellcat. He couldn’t get her off his mind and last night he almost had a wet dream. Like he was thirteen and not nearing forty.

“Fuck it,” he grumbled. He dialed her number and listened to it ring. When the voicemail started, he hung up. He had no idea what to say to her. Starting off with an apology would never happen and just saying his name and asking her to call seemed too familiar. He didn’t know what to do in these types of situations, and even if he did, there was no one like her. She was completely unique.

He called her again, resigned at actually saying something.

The phone rang and rang and rang and Logan wanted to hang up. Unfortunately she answered.

“Ororo Munroe speaking.” There was a long pause. “Hello?”

“Uh, hey,” Logan started. He got up from behind his office desk, walked to his door, waved at his employees, and shut it, feeling... like a massive idiot. They weren’t having phone sex. “It’s me.”

Logan waited for her to say something. Instead, he heard the swift intake of breath and a slow exhale. “Yes. Hello, Mr. Howlett--”

“Logan, darlin. We’ve kinda passed the point of acting like we don’t know each other.” He sat down and rested his elbows on his fake-wood desk. He bet hers was actual mahogany. “I know how much you like gardening and where you hike.” Gee, that sounded creepy! He palmed his forehead, reprimanding himself. “Look, I just wanted to... talk. Clear the air.”

He waited for a response that never came.

“C’mon, Ro. We have to talk.”

She exhaled again into the phone. “I suppose it’s warranted... considering how often we run into each other.”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to temper his glee. “I always apologize to you, but it seems like I’m always doing something wrong where you’re concerned.” He heard her chuckle and he smiled. “Maybe I could do something to fix it,” he drawled, sitting back. “I don’t think we’ll be friends, but I wouldn’t mind knowing what you’re like when you’re not yelling at me.”

“I take it this isn’t a business call.” Logan mumbled his yes. “What did you want to talk about, Logan?” she asked.

Logan tried to not feel like she was changing the subject, but he did call to get this mess sorted. “I just wanted to talk about us.”

“There isn’t an ‘us,’ Logan, so let’s not be dramatic.”

Logan grit his teeth. “I don’t know what it is about you that get’s me so...” he stopped himself before he caused an argument. “I just wanna... make sure we stop living with a knife at each other’s throats. We should talk.” He shifted. “Face to face.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Logan rubbed his lips. “Cause of what happened in the parking lot?”

“Because we always end up arguing. Loudly.” She stopped, then continued. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but we don’t exactly mesh well.”

“The dating site said we were a ‘true match.’”

“And you actually believed it,” she remarked. “Well. I would’ve pinned you for a cynic.”

“How could you- you barely know me.” He cleared his throat. “Look, if we’re gonna argue, I’d much rather do it looking at that beautiful face of yours, so do you wanna meet or not?”

“Excuse you--” she started.

“Well? Don’t try and argue with me just to keep me on the phone. If you really wanna piss me off, just do it at my face. I know you’re thinking about it.” A smile crept on his face. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said lowly, his words laced with meaning.

For a moment, Logan swore she would either scream at him or simply hang up. But instead, she spoke, calmly and clearly.

“I want to talk.”

“Okay--”

“Privately.”

“Yeah, no problem--”

“Away from prying eyes.”

“That’s what ‘privately’ means--”

“There’s a restaurant by my house--”

“If you don’t mind, Ro, but our first date we went someplace you like. I wanna take you someplace I like. Someplace where it won’t matter if we yell at each till our voices get hoarse.”



Professional. That’s what she told herself as she slid into the high-backed booth seat. She looked around the bar, feeling very out of place. She watched Logan order a beer she’d never heard of and then rest his arms on the table when the bar maid hurried off. She thought about tearing him a new one, but she knew that was what he was expecting.

“Shouldn’t you have asked what I wanted to drink?” she asked.

“I come here a lot, so I know what’s good.” Logan winked at her then lean back. “Relax, darling. You’re in good hands.” She glanced at his hands, noting the weird scars on his knuckles, then remembered their fight from the other day. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the skin. Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. “They’re almost gone,” he said.

“Do you always heal quickly?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I dunno. Yeah, I guess.” He grabbed her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “This is either makeup or you heal faster than I do.”

Ororo pulled her hands away, not liking the contact. Professional, she told herself. “I didn’t get a bruise when I punched him. I mean, my knuckles did discolor, but I didn’t bruise.” She put her hands in her lap and bit her lower lip. “I’m really grateful that you helped in the fight--”

“You had it handled. You were kickin’ ass.” Logan sat back, one arm resting on the table.

Ororo smirked. “I know,” she remarked, proud of herself. “I was pissed, though. They called me ‘grandma.’”

“Cause the white hair?” he asked, though it was more a statement of fact. She nodded. “I don’t know how they’d mistake you for anyone’s grandma, they way you look.” He paused. “You don’t have kids, right?”

“No, I don’t,” she sighed. She rested her elbows on the table, then sat her head in her palm. “You don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” He scratched the back of his hands. “I mean, kids are nice, I just don’t have any.” There was an awkward silence. “It’s not really my business, but do you want any?”

She brightened. “Yes,” she said, her voice dreamy. “I’d love a little girl. Or boy.” She cocked her head at him. “You?- boy or girl.”

“Eh...” Logan shrugged. “Either; just so long as they’re healthy and look like their mom.” Ororo let out a bark of laughter; Logan thought she looked beautiful laughing. This was a good start.

“Trust me, Logan, you have handsome features.”

“I knew you weren’t kissing me just cause I saved you.” She stiffened, her smile fading into a grim line. “Oh, come on, Ro. We had to talk about it eventually.” She opened her mouth to speak when the bar maid came over with their drinks. She sat them down, then Logan told her to put it on his tab. When Ororo gave him a suspicious look, he shrugged it off. “Like I said, I come here a lot. Take a drink.”

She took a sip, then set the bottle down. “It’s good.”

“Huh. I would’ve figured a stronger opinion to come outta you.”

“It’s good, Logan. Not everything needs a strong opinion.” She blinked. “Why are we here, Logan? This place isn’t really conducive to talk about,” she waved a hand between them, “business.”

Logan snorted. “Some good news you should be tellin’ me?” he joked. His heart raced at the possibility, though.

“Should there be--”

“I was joking. Damn, don’t you know what a joke is?” He stared at her, watching her face twist into an expression of anger. They were back to square one, he figured. “But I guess I should thank you for the heads up. I can stop getting my hopes high.”

Ororo softened. “You’ll know soon, Logan.” She took a sip of her beer. “It is good,” she said softly.

Logan took pity on her. He knew she wasn’t supposed to let out information and he wasn’t really being fair. He’d just saw her being friendly. He didn’t need to be a dick. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “So you look nice.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. She bit her lip. “You do, too.”

Logan leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “See, this should’ve been our first date.”

“This is awkward, Logan!” she joked, smiling.

“Yeah, but it’s better.” He sipped his beer. “Maybe the trick is to give you alcohol.”

“Please, I’ve barely had two sips.” She looked around. “So how often do you come here?”

Logan shrugged. “I come here... I guess on weekends.” He thought about a little more.“Almost every weekend.” He put up a hand. “It’s not serious. I have a drink, play pool, and shoot the shit with my buddies.” He pointed his beer bottle at her. “I hate small talk.”

“Me, too,” she sighed. “It always feel so...”

“Pointless?”

“Yes,” she said excitedly. “But I guess you’re gonna have to go through it eventually. You are still on the site, right?”

“I am, but I’m thinking about deleting it. I can’t really find anyone who keeps my attention. They’re all either too sexual or too safe. You?”

“I met someone--”

“Not talkin’ about me,” he winked.

Ororo rolled her eyes. “I’m... talking to someone. He’s nice.” She shrugged. “We met the night I was attacked.”

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly. “From that attack, I mean.”

She smiled. “I’ll admit I was freaked, but I’m alright. No nightmares, though I have become more vigilant. I bought a can of mace.”

“That’s great.” He looked at his watch. “I don’t wanna be rude, but I’ve gotta get somewhere. I just wanted to bring you here in case we started arguing.”

She let out a tinkering laugh and stood. “I’m glad we didn’t.” She got up and fixed her purse to her shoulder. “Walk me to my car?”

“Sure.”



When they got to her car, the stood, talking. She finally stopped, resting her hand on her forearm. “It was nice-- finally talking.”

“It was.” Logan opened her car door. “I’ll call you.”

She chewed her lower lip. “I don’t think that would be a great idea, but I guess it wouldn’t be so bad.” She got in and smiled. “You have my number.”

Logan watched her drive off, waving, mentally kicking himself. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen between them, but he had a strong feeling that it was a good start. And just as well, he reminded himself. She was already talking to another guy. He didn’t know if it was going to get serious between them-- her and the other guy-- but it was a little sad that Logan wouldn’t have that chance. Or maybe he did?-he didn’t know. He headed back inside, thinking it over.

It probably wasn’t a good idea. Logan didn’t know if they would be working together, but he knew it could be viewed as favoritism if they did. He wasn’t sure what the repercussions were, but they probably wouldn’t be great. Logan’s imagination got the better of him; he could see his face plastered all over the local news. A page-three-scandal wasn’t his thing. He was getting ahead of himself.

He called Piotr and Remy, to see if they wanted to come drink with him.

Even if they did become a page-three-scandal, they were just now getting to know each other. They weren’t exactly friends, and they were barely acquaintances, but Logan could see them getting close. Logan misjudged her greatly. Ororo was far from boring or any variation of the word. She was interesting. It was a brief conversation, but he liked what he gleaned from it. She was bashful and brave and funny and kind and a hell of a fighter.

It was cruel that he was developing a crush on her, but Logan chuckled despite it. That forbidden fruit!- he just loved it.



Telling their brief encounter over was less exciting than retelling how she slapped him in a parking lot, or how he asked about the color of her crotch, but Remy and Piotr were just as entertained. They weren’t laughing-- well, Remy wasn’t; Piotr always took the stories so seriously and chided Logan’s behavior-- but they were practically hanging on every word.

When Logan finished, Piotr spoke first. “This is good. I thought you two would never get along.”

“Yeah, I did, too,” Logan agreed. “At least we can pretend to be cordial.” Logan looked down at his knuckles, remembering her slim fingers running over the discoloring. He’d left out the part of him being attracted to her, though it certainly wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out. He looked back up; thankfully Piotr wasn’t an asshole.

Unfortunately, Remy was.

“So when you gon’ fuck?” he asked crudely. “For real, this time? I mean, you obviously want to.”

“She’s talking--”

“Homme, let me tell you something. Something important.” Remy leaned in. “Whenever a woman says she ‘talking’ to someone, it means it’s not serious!” Remy smacked Logan’s shoulder hard enough to make it hurt through the thick leather. “She lettin’ you know something important.”

Logan jerked away before he could get hit again. “I’m damn sure she doesn’t want to date me--”

“That’s why I said ‘fuck’--”

“And don’t you ever hit me, Swamp Rat.” Logan drank from his beer, then settled back. “You really think that?” Remy nodded, confident in his words. “Nah,” Logan told himself.

Did she? His male pride was probably getting in the way. He was trailing thin ice with her, they just talked, and she was getting to know another guy. Logan told himself all those things, and yet he couldn’t help but remember how wantonly she ground herself against his cock that night. Who knew? Maybe she did wanna get back with him.

“Yeah, you know it,” Remy smirked.

“You should see if she is getting serious with the other man,” Piotr chimed in, giving Remy a strange look. (Logan knew what that look was-- he’d given Remy the same look every time the Cajun said something idiotic.) He turned back to Logan, continuing. “If Remy is right, you could date her. She seems like a nice woman.”

“Except for the fact that she slapped me and hated my guts for damn near a month or so,” Logan said sardonically.

“Logan, you can’t keep insulting her if you like her. Which you do.” Piotr shifted in the small booth seat. “I think you are saying these things because you don’t want to like her.”

“What? That’s stupid,” Logan scoffed.

“And the truth!” Remy clapped his hands together, rubbing them. “You got it bad.”

“Fuck off.” Logan drank his beer.

That damn forbidden fruit.


Ororo got a text a few hours later. She heard her phone chirp at around two AM, but didn't think to answer it. She was exhausted, and alcohol made her even sleepier. She decided it would just be better to answer it in the morning. And when she did, she felt her stomach swoop.

Wanna go hiking this weekend?-Logan

Author's Note: From now on, thank Marbles for catching the errors!



Ororo folded her legs at the knees and gave a polite smile. There was nothing else she could do at the moment-- Scott was busy berating her choice for the project. She was about to turn in her choice to the Mayor, then wait to give out the good news. Scott, who was far from happy about her choice, decided to argue.

“It’s just crazy, Ororo,” he concluded. “You know how this is gonna go over: We’re gonna get lambasted in the press.” Scott stood rigid. “I can see it now. Another exposé on wasteful spending in city government. We barely made it out last time.”

“I think you’re overreacting, Scott. I haven’t even given my choice--”

“Yeah, but you will.” Scott began pacing, his nostrils flared. “You can’t be serious. That guy? I don’t know if that guy can even handle a project of this scale. Obviously not, since he’s asking for more than we can give.”

“There’s always more to give, Scott. Can’t you talk to Treasury? Figure something out?” she asked, not really bothered by his panicking.

“Why should I? Aren’t you tight with the guys there?” Scott asked, his back to her. He continued pacing. “I just think this is risky. He’s not really showing me anything impressive. There’s a standard we have to commit to, and we can’t just take blind leaps of faith not knowing what our safety net is.” Scott faced Ororo. “Stark is a safety net.”

“Stark is an ass who only cares about himself. I think Logan is a better choice.”

“Logan?” scoffed Scott. “His name is James.”

Ororo nervously scratched at her wrist, hoping she hadn’t been obvious. “He asked us to call him Logan--”

“He’s unreliable. He hasn’t shown us anything promising. House additions?” Scott threw his palms out. “Really? This guy is gonna be manning the inner city project. If he fucks up, it’s on my head. And yours,” he enunciated, pointing at Ororo. “But, hey!- at least I know I can get a good deal on a freakin’ sun room.”

Ororo rose, tired of being talked down to. She grabbed her portfolio, glaring at Scott. “I understand you’re incapable of seeing potential, but I have faith. He won’t let us down. He’s capable of being professional.” She turned on her heel and headed out.

“Professional,” repeated Scott. “Well. Just don’t drag everyone else down while you’re trying to take risks.”

Ororo glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure to leave your name off the fine print.” She slammed the door. “Asshole.”

She thinned her lips as she weaved her way through the other politicos. They were all headed in different directions, aimless and unaware of the presence among them. Ororo took a moment to revel in just how powerful and influential she was. Her planning was almost singlehandedly responsible for every good thing the city had, and yet Scott still treated her like a child. She’d been around almost as long as he-- she deserved the same amount of respect. Men. They all lived with inflated egos and she was tired of it. She was gonna knock Scott down a peg when Logan did a fantastic job. It would be great. She loved Scott, but she couldn’t wait to hear him apologize for being a monumental dick. How Jean put up with it, Ororo didn’t know. Maybe it had something to do with love. Ororo didn’t know; she’d never get caught up with an asshole. She wasn’t sure why she considered Logan when she was already trying to get to know Hank.

Pushing the door of her office open, she found Trish Tillby sitting at her desk, expectant. God, this day couldn’t get any worse, thought Ororo. The stupid interview-- Ororo forgot.

“Trish, hi,” Ororo said, recovering from the shock. She made a mental note to throttle Marie for not giving a heads up. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, just five minutes.” Trish shook Ororo’s hand then smiled. “Is that for me?” she asked, pointing at the leather portfolio.

“This? No.” Ororo walked behind her desk, then sat. She pushed her keyboard away and folded her hands on the desk. “I assume this interview won’t be long; I’m very busy, as you know.”

“Indeed I do,” Trish said, the kindness an obvious front. “I was rescheduled twice.” She took out a recorder from her bag and a notepad. She swiped a pen from Ororo’s desk. “I won’t waste either of our time, so I’ll jump right into the first question.” She quickly scribbled something, then pressed the PLAY button. “How much money are taxpayers giving for this new project?”

“The Treasury department working with the mayor has been collecting funds for this project for the past ten years. Though it was certainly before my time and the mayor’s, he thought it wise to put the money to good use,” answered Ororo. “In total, the mayor has collected around eighty-four million. Again, a large amount of this money was previously collected.”

“You say the money was mostly there, but why wasn’t it used for anything else? Say, a better police force,” asked Trish, writing furiously.

“The Westchester County Police Department is among one of the best police departments in America. They have a two-minute response time, solve crimes at an eighty percent rate, and are also dedicated to other tasks separate from protecting and serving the city. The budget did not allocate any more money for them because it was expressly allocated for schools,” Ororo replied, her voice almost robotic. She didn’t have time for this.

Trish scribbled something down, her pen making a faint scratching noise. “Then what does the mayor’s office have to say about the recent accusations of racial profiling?” Trish looked up, smiling. “I assume this should affect you on a personal level.”

No this bitch didn’t! A blow about race? Ororo gave a smile. “The mayor is often personally insulted when a person is singled out for no other reason than the color of their skin. It’s insulting and detracts from actual problems. If the police are racially profiling, the mayor has not heard of it. That is not to say that he would condone such actions. Again, the mayor is personally insulted when it happens, and an investigation will soon follow.” Ororo paused. “The citizens have a right to feel safe and when they are singled out in such a manner, it creates a sense of unease. The mayor has vowed to ensure every citizen feels safe.”

“Okay... Though you didn’t really answer my question,” Trish muttered. “And is this dedication to safety also in the homeless-inner city youth project?”

“Indeed. The mayor wants all citizens to have a place they can call home, for all youths to receive a quality education and three square meals a day. When the project is completed, it will have achieved just that.” Ororo turned to her Rolodex and pulled out a card. “Here,” she said, handing it to Trish. “If there are any further questions, feel free to call this number and we’ll respond in a timely manner.” Ororo rose to her feet, grabbing the portfolio. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to see the mayor.”

“Um, okay,” Trish mumbled, gathering her things. She hurried out and paused at the doorway. “I’d like a follow up. There’s really nothing here--”

“I’ll have my secretary call you within the business week to set up another appointment,” Ororo said, grabbing the doorknob to shut her door. “I hope you have a wonderful evening.” And with that, Ororo turned on her heel once more and walked off.

-

A Several hours later, and three beers in, Logan was still celebrating. He got the call! He was the head of the fucking development project. All that money was his! He was getting his chance. He knew it was the right thing making up with Ororo. It wasn’t really the first thing on his mind when he called her, but he knew it was a good idea somewhere in the back of his thoughts. And now he was gonna get the chance of a lifetime. That saying was true: It’s not what you know, but who you know.

He reached into his pocket for his phone, and grinned at the caller ID when he saw it. She was calling him.

“Hey, beautiful!”

“What?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled. “I can’t hear you. Where are you? It’s loud.”

“I’m celebrating!” he yelled into his phone. Everyone around him cheered; he’d taken his office out for drinks and they were quite possibly just as close to tipsy as he was. Maybe they already were? He didn’t care, just so long as they showed up tomorrow for work. “I’m celebrating the good news.”

“Oh, so you heard.” Logan couldn’t have been sure, but she sounded happy. It was too loud. “Can you move somewhere quieter? I’d like to talk to you--”

“Why don’t you come here?” he asked happily. “Come down to the bar!- where we talked? And bring a friend. A cute friend.” He grinned. “But only if they’re female.”

“Wow, Logan,” she started, already sounding annoyed.

“Hey, I don’t wanna see that boyfriend of yours. I wanna celebrate.” He wanted to swallow back the words the second they came out, but it was out there. She could interpret it however she wanted.

“Okay.”

-

Marie frowned at Ororo, ready to go off. “This is so stupid,” Marie griped. “I don’t even know the guy.”

Ororo dabbed her lip with lipstick, trying to not remind herself of how familiar the conversation was. It sounded much like the one she had with Jean; Ororo felt like a hypocrite.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll only be here for a few minutes.”

“Yeah right!” Marie folded her arms to her chest. “I hate these kind of things. All those damn grabby hands.” She huffed a breath.

Ororo smiled, finding Marie’s pouty attitude cute. “I thought you liked the guy.”

“Not enough to go to a damn bar with drunken idiots with--”

“Grabby hands,” Ororo finished. She put her lipstick away and smoothed her hands down her hair. “Come on. I need a drink, anyways. I’m still pissed about that meeting with Trish. And you owe me!” Ororo said, pointing a finger into Marie’s shoulder. “You didn’t give me a proper head’s up.”

“I did!” Marie defended. “I sent you an email, a text, and a post-it note. It’s your own damn fault you schedule all your meetings on the same day.”

“You’re my secretary; you need to stop scheduling all my meetings on the same day.” Ororo locked her car and faced the loud bar. “Let’s go.”

-

Logan put the beer to his lips, trying to pace himself. He didn’t get drunk quickly, but he was in a good mood and everyone else was helping him along. This was... beer number seven? His pacing wasn’t working so well and he really just wanted to wait until he saw Ororo to start getting pissed. It was obviously too late but he would try and look sober for his beautiful new boss.

“Merde,” whistled Remy, chalking his pool cue. “Would y’ look at that.” Logan turned around and felt his heart pound.

“Ro.” He put his beer down, knowing Remy would watch it. He hurried over, shoving the other bastards out of the way. “You made it.”

“I did,” she said, looking around. “I suppose you’re celebrating early.”

“Can’t go hiking on a Monday, right?” he joked, reminding her of his text. He never got a response, though he knew she read it. He wasn’t offended, not when he was presiding over a new project.

“Can’t be drinking on a Monday, either.”

“It's Friday somewhere, right?”

“No, Logan, it’s not,” she said seriously, obviously uncomfortable. She held her purse closer to her shoulder and Logan wanted to roll his eyes at the sight of that bag. It was the same one she was almost robbed of. Did she have a death wish or something?

“What?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “Just glad you came.”

He took her hand, swiping his thumb over her knuckles. “Bring your friend,” he waved at Marie, “I want you to meet some people. Let’s celebrate,” he said, his lips curling up into a smile.

xxx
Running her hand through her silvery hair, she wondered how this happened.

Actually, she knew how it happened, she just wanted to be dramatic.

Around ten, Ororo was ready to go. It wasn’t that she wasn’t having a great time-- she was-- but she had things to do, and tomorrow wasn’t going to be easier just because one person was celebrating. She wondered if her cat was alright, and what she was going to eat since all her leftovers were gone. Checking her watch, she thought all these things over, ignoring the conversation Logan was trying to bait her into. 

“You can’t leave yet,” he said abruptly, the conversation topic abandoned. “It’s still early.”

She chuckled. “Maybe for you, but I have to get going.” She squeezed Logan’s bicep. “Thanks for inviting me. This was surprisingly fun.” She looked over his shoulder and searched for Marie, not finding her in the immediate area. “Have you seen Marie?”

Logan glanced over his shoulder. “I think she went out for air with Remy,” he said, almost knowingly. Ororo groaned and palmed her forehead. “Hey, c’mon. I’ll help you look outside. I also gotta call Remy-- he’s my designated driver.” He put his beer bottle down on a random table and wiped the sweat from the bottle on his jeans. “Alright. Let’s go.” He turned, knowing she would be right behind him.

When they exited the loud bar, Ororo felt her ears nearly ring. She hadn’t noticed just how loud it was in there, but now that she was in the quiet night, she wondered how she lasted for so long. She looked at Logan, knowing he had a hand in making it an enjoyable night. She smiled to herself, amused at just how things were changing for them. 

“You had a good time celebrating?” Logan asked randomly.

“I did, thanks for asking. You?” she asked. 

They turned a corner around the bar. “Yeah, but there’s always room for improvement, if you know what I mean.” He stopped, then opened his jacket. After patting down a pocket, he took out a cigar. He held it out for Ororo to see. “Planning on smoking this later.” Ororo let out a bark of laughter. “What?”

“I thought that was a joint.” She composed herself, wiping her eye. “Most people smoke after having sex or heavy drinking.”

“Most people? You trying to tell me you smoke, because you smell way to good to be a smoker,” he jabbed, putting the cigar away. He looked up at her, annoyed. “And I’m too old to be messing around with kid shit.”

“Well--wait. You... smell me? That’s creepy,” she said, crinkling her nose.

“I have a good nose, darlin. And don’t avoid the question.” He stared up at her waiting.

She bit her lip. “I don’t smoke.”

“So what do you do after drinking?”

“Sleep,” she said, distracted. Her turned her head, looking for Marie or Remy.

“And sex?” he asked.

She grinned, looking back at him. “Same thing.”

Logan paused before he started laughing. “I guess I know who wears the pants to bed.”

“Who wears pants when sleeping?” she asked. “They wouldn’t match with my nighties.” She waved a hand and walked ahead of him, looking coyly over her shoulder.

Logan put a hand to his heart. “Don’t tease me.”

“Please,” she scoffed, throwing her nose up. “I don’t mess around with kid shit.”

Logan swallowed thickly, uncertain as to how to proceed. Theoretically speaking, he wanted to grab her and push her against the wall of the bar and have her there, but he wasn’t sure how well that would go over. He also wanted to take his time exploring her, and figuring out what it would be like to kiss and taste every inch of her brown skin. He was conflicted.

“Wow,” she said, looking at the screen of her phone. “She and your friend went on a date. Unbelievable,” she sighed. “Did you know?”

“I spent most of the night with you. How the hell should I have known?” he said, defensive. “If your friend didn’t think to text you about it, mine damn sure didn’t.” 

“Great friend,” she muttered.

“I could say the same thing about yours,” Logan snapped. “And why’re you so concerned about it? Remy’s a good guy; she’ll get home safely. I, on the other hand, am screwed,” he said, pointing at his chest. “He has my keys.”

She thinned her lips. “You could take a taxi--”

“Yeah, I’m really gonna take a taxi home just so they can steal another thirty dollars from my pocket.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be helpful--”

“Gee, thanks, Ororo! Great idea! I just spent a hell of a lot of money on drinks so spending my last twenty dollars on a ride home is just what I need. I’d rather walk--”

“Why’re you being such an asshole? What do you want from me?- A ride?” 

“With you? You’d probably take this as an opportunity to make mean-spirited comments about where I live.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m just gonna walk.”

She thinned her lips. “Where do you live?” she asked. She gave him a pointed look. “Don’t make me ask twice-- I’m trying to be nice even though you certainly don’t deserve it.”

---

Ten minutes later, Ororo pulled into Logan’s apartment complex. She had no idea why he was so worried about where he lived-- it was a nice place. It certainly wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be; there weren’t any dogs running loose across the parking lot. She cut the engine and stared at him. “We’re here.” He nodded,  unbuckling his seat belt. “Remy has yours keys, right?” He nodded again. “How’re you gonna get inside? Do you have a spare in a flower pot?”

Logan snorted. “People still do that?”

She groaned, unbuckling her seat. “How do you manage to breathe if your head is always stuck up your ass?” she muttered. “Show me your apartment.”

They walked up the stairs in silence, and when Ororo reached his door, she pushed him out of the way without saying a single word to him. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair. “You know that doesn’t work, right?” Logan asked, watching her.

After a few clicks, the door opened. She set the pin back in her hair and straightened up. “That’s because you’ve never seen someone do it right.” She pushed the door wider open and stepped inside. He followed, flicking on a switch. “Huh.” She looked around. He lived in a perfect man-cave, though it was much tidier. She noticed the model from the presentation on his coffee table and walked over, intrigued.

“Please,” he muttered, closing the door after them, “come on in. Make yourself comfortable. Kick your shoes off while you’re at it,” he said sarcastically.

Ororo poked at the model, looking it over, ignoring his snide comments. He really needed to take a lesson in humility; she’d literally gone out of her way to make sure he got home safely. The least he could do (in her opinion) was let her play with the tiny model swings. She poked at them with a finger, smiling at how cute they were. “This is amazing work,” she said softly.

Logan joined her, looking at the model. “Thanks. I wanted to impress you.”

She looked at him, smiling. “You did.” She wasn’t surprised when he leaned in and kissed her, his lips just as soft as last time, though now the kiss wasn’t as urgent. She pulled away, her heart flipping. “You mentioned something about going hiking with me?”

“Later,” he said gruffly, grabbing at her. He leaned up, his hands trying to make themselves comfortable on her hips. She leaned into their kiss, moaning. When she tried pulling away, he nipped her lower lip and tightened the grip on her curvy hips. He pressed harder, sliding his tongue against her lower lip. She opened, then sucked his tongue. Logan wasn’t sure where it came from, but he growled at her. 

Pushing her backwards to his room, she broke away for a moment. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said breathily. Logan opened the door to his bedroom and stepped backwards inside.

“We can stop at any time,” he said, his hands tugging at the zipper of her jeans.

“Oh, good,” she said, sliding her hands into his shirt. She undid the buttons of his henley at a speed he’d never seen before, then latched onto his neck, sucking. He groaned, his hands finally in her jeans. He cupped her bottom and squeezed. She bit down, and Logan decided whatever kind of foreplay this was, he’d had enough. He pushed her to the bed. 

She fell back with an ungraceful oof. Her hair flew over her face; she giggled as she sat on her knees. She pulled her shirt over her head, losing her bobby pin in the process. Logan fell on her, tugging at her bra, one arm still in his shirt. He pulled the bra cup down far enough to expose a rosy nipple, and sucked just as hard as she. Ororo let out a noisy moan when he bit down.

Running her hand through her silvery hair, she wondered how this happened. Actually, she knew how, she just wanted to be dramatic.

“Fuck.”

Pulling back up, he dug his fingers into her jeans and panties, jerking them all down in one move. She squealed, then looked down. “I hope you didn’t rip anything,” she snapped.

“Like I really care about your Victoria's Secret panties,” he joked. He kicked off his jeans and threw his shirt somewhere in the background.

Ororo groaned as he began pressing kisses to her inner thigh. “I wear La Perla,” she managed. She opened her thighs wider to make room for him, anxious to feel his weight back on top of her. “Please,” she moaned.

“What?” he asked, sliding two fingers into her snug heat and pressed against her spot. He hovered over her, watching her struggle to remain focused.

“Can we not act like-- oh please, oh please, oh please,” she groaned, arching her back and losing her train of thought. When Logan moved away, she grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his arm. “Don’t you dare, Logan!”

“Fine,” he huffed, not trying to push it. He tugged at his erection a few times before sliding into her. He let out a long groan, trying to get himself steady. She felt so good. “So fucking tight,” he managed. The first few strokes were shallow, but he eventually built up a rhythm until he was so wonderfully deep. Her nails scored his back, but she looked and sounded so perfect beneath him that he didn’t give a damn. And when she came, he wished he could capture that moment, but the image was burned in his brain. She let out a long moan that sounded like his name and her soft walls clenched him. He followed after three hard strokes.

He rolled over, panting. It was quick, but wow did it feel amazing. He was right-- she was a hellcat. Looking over at her, that same feeling from the parking lot came back. She was getting up, looking for her clothes. “Are you serious?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and nodded. “I have to get going--”

“You can spend the night here.”

“Please, Logan, let’s not make this awkward.”

“I’m serious.” He sat up. “I’ll wake you up early--”

“Aren’t you drunk?” she asked, looking for her shirt. “I’ll do the right thing and let you sleep in. I wake up at like four in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t mind--”

“Yes, you would.” She pulled her shirt over her head, then smoothed her hair down. “Look, this was fun--”

Logan let out a cold laugh. “You’re giving me the speech? This is my apartment. You’re the one kicking yourself out.” He got up, unbothered by his nakedness. “You wanna go so badly-- fine.”

Ororo scoffed. “Try to not act like I’m hurting your feelings.”

“You’re not.” He pulled back his sheets. “Have a great fucking night, Ro. Thanks for coming out to celebrate.”

Author's note: I didn't send this to my beta so all the reviews are my fault entirely. And sorry about being away this weekend! I'll have to start leaving messages in advance.

Ororo parked her car and searched around her heavy purse for her ringing phone. She could tell by the ringtone it was Hank-- a few weeks ago he programmed a specialized ringtone after a lengthy conversation about how customized ringtones were for kids-- but wasn’t sure why he was calling. The timing of the phone call was a little bad considering she was about to go to work, but she was always welcome to taking a call from Henry.

“I was just reading an article about African Moons and I thought about you,” he started.

Ororo sighed. “That’s sweet.” She got out of her car, her necessary items jumbled in her arms. “How was your trip to the dentist?”

“Good, but I’m positive that dentist only wants to charge me for things I do already. All he did was brush my teeth and floss for me.”

Ororo grinned. “So you don’t have a cavity then?”

“Excuse you, my dear. I brush twice a day and I haven’t had candy since last Halloween.”

Ororo let out a bark of laughter, feeling uneasy on her heels. The ground for the construction site was covered in gravel; she should’ve planned her outfit better. “Let’s not lie to ourselves,” she chided. Hank grumbled something about Snickers milkshake technically being a milkshake and not candy. Ororo rolled her eyes; Hank was such a big kid sometimes. “So will you be making it to dinner with Scott and Jean?” she asked.

“I plan on it; work might run over.”

Ororo nodded, looking around for the man in charge. Luckily, a few of the construction workers pointed her to a trailer. She waved at them, amazed that none of her items fell from her hands. The dress she was in did not allow for bending over; “form fitting” always meant “too tight.” As she headed towards the white trailer, she sighed. “I understand, but you know Scott was excited about seeing you.” She stepped up the ramp, her hand on the door handle.

“I know, and I’ll really try, but it’s been busy.”

She sighed, opening the door. She didn’t want to sit through Jean’s dinner without a buffer. She didn’t bother acknowledging how crappy that was. She opened the door and stepped inside. “Alright, I’ll let Jean know.” She nodded at Logan; he was sitting at his desk, pouring over schematics. “I’ll call you later.”

“Bye,” Hank said.

“Bye.” She clicked END and placed her belongings on Logan’s desk. He rose, sticking out his hand. She, for a moment, stared at it, then blinked away whatever memory was scratching its way to the surface. “Hello.” She shook his hand.

“Was that the mayor or something?” he asked conversationally.

“Or something,” she smiled, trying to send him the message. She vaguely noticed how he shifted his weight, as if he felt awkward. “So you know why I’m here: Look around and get filled in.” She wanted to choke on her words. “About the project,” she added hastily. “How are things?”

“They’re decent. We broke ground. Foundation’s good.” He looked at her feet. “You know heels really ain’t the best idea when on a construction site, right?”

Ororo let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, I kind of didn’t think it through. It matched the dress,” she waved a hand down herself.

“So it does.” He made a noise in the back of his throat and stepped around her. “You’ll need a hard hat. It probably won’t go with the dress.” He grabbed a yellow hat from the coat hanger and handed it to her. “You’ll still look nice, I promise.” He held the door open for her after tugging his own hat on; his wolfish hair proved to be a slight problem. “So that was your boyfriend?” Logan asked.

“Yes,” Ororo said, a brow raised in confusion. She wasn’t sure why he was asking; it wasn’t his business.

“I’m only asking ‘cause we did sleep together.” He turned around, his hands up. “I get it’s your relationship, but I always feel like dirt whenever I find out I did something wrong with the wrong person.”

“That was nearly three months ago, Logan.” He was still waiting. “Hank and I weren’t dating then.”

“His name’s Hank?” Logan furrowed a brow. “What is he?- a body builder? Your personal trainer?” He turned around and began walking.

“Logan, this really isn’t your business.”

“But? I’m allowed to be curious. I mean, you were almost my girlfriend.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at her.

She smiled, unable to figure out how he could take her from hot to cold and vice versa so quickly. It was like he knew her intimately. She swallowed. “We weren’t dating then. We were just getting to know each other.”

“Damn,” Logan whistled. “If only I were better that night. Cause lookin’ at you in that tight dress is making me forget we’re working.”

Ororo couldn’t help it, but she laughed. The time apart really helped. She didn’t feel like jumping down his throat and he wasn’t actively trying to piss her off. She remembered their stilted conversation at the bar; maybe they were meant to be friends because Ororo didn’t laugh very easily.

“I’ll get this tour started so you can get off your feet and I can get to my lunch.” He rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know what you’re interested in, but I found the most amazing Japanese restaurant nearby. It’s almost a pity it’s in this area.” He waved at one of his workers. “They don’t get much business.”

“Japanese, really?” she looked around the area. It was mostly grey and brown buildings. “I can’t imagine there being much of anything around here.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he scoffed. “It’s a tragedy.” He stepped into the steel building and held his hand out for Ororo to take. She took it and stepped up. “But we’re gonna fix that. Now, to begin this tour...”


After the tour and following questions, Logan asked Ororo out to lunch. She glanced at her watch and said she wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he gave a convincing argument: Her life would change for the better after eating their good food. She bit her lip, thinking about the hours that awaited her in the office and how she vainly wanted to wear this dress out in public a little while longer and decided it wouldn’t be so bad to take an early lunch. She called Marie, letting her know to just take messages.

Much like the bar meeting, their lunch was a little awkward. They eventually broke common ground, talking about the construction project. She admired his fervor, how serious he was. She knew he was right for the job; he wasn’t solely focused on how rich this was going to make him. She hated when she talked to clients and all they talked about was how great their Christmas was going to be. It repelled her. When their food came, he picked up his chopsticks and scooped up his rice. Ororo was amazed at his skill.

“I spent time in Japan,” he said, knowing she was going to ask. “You ever been there?”

“Japan? No, but I want to.” She looked at the fork in her hand and frowned. “Perhaps I should learn a few customs before going.”

Logan smiled. “It’s easy. Here,” he motioned for her hand. “You gotta pretend you’re holding a pencil or something. Or a pad stylus, knowing you.” He put her chopstick in her hand. “And the other one you hold like this,” he slid the second stick in between her fingers. “There.”

She tested out grabbing her rice. It dropped the first time, but the second time was successful. She let out a noise of triumph and grinned. “I did it!”

“You sure did, kiddo.” Logan went back to eating his meal, sneaking glances at her.

Ororo noticed. Before an awkward silence could settle between them, she decided to ask more questions. “So why did you travel to Japan?”

“People have reasons for traveling?” he asked. He shrugged. “I first went because I just wanted to, but I stayed for...” he shrugged. “Well, it didn’t work out, but I met a woman there.”

“Oh.” She leaned forward. “Did you love her?”

“I wouldn’t have felt like shit leaving if I didn’t,” he griped. He cleared his throat. “I don’t lie talking about it, but yeah. I did.” She gave him a sad smile. “Don’t go pitying me--”

“I’m not. We just seem to have a similar story.” She looked at her rice and remembered what could’ve been. She rationalized it a million ways because she truly did love T’Challa. “We were alike in many ways but I guess our cultures were too different.”

“I feel ya.”

Author's Note: I haven't sent these to my beta because I'm getting really lazy (sorry Marbles!) so forgive any mistakes. Also- I'm speeding up the timelines to get the story rolling. I left hints about the changes but if you're confused I'll fix these. Sorry for this being late!


Logan decided to stay late in his trailer, getting some paperwork done. He found that working with the mayor and the city meant more paperwork than he was used to. It wasn’t anything difficult-- he had to write up his day, what was done, how much what cost, and sign his name-- but it was so tedious. He yawned, looking at the little wall clock. It was only six. He groaned, rubbing his neck to work out the tension.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, reading over his report. He looked at the stack of papers on his desk and vaguely wondered what he was doing with his life. How in the hell could someone go into a field of work they genuinely enjoy and still hate it so much? He looked around his trailer, feeling cooped. He wanted to go for a walk... Hell, even a drive would do!- just so long as he got out of the stupid trailer. But he was stuck until he finished. He needed a distraction.

His hand was dialing the mayor’s office before he realized it.

“Hello, you’ve reached the mayor’s office. Unfortunately he’s out now, can I take a message?” answered a southern voice.

“Uh, hey. This is Logan--”

“Oh, hey, sug. How’re you?” she asked, her voice pepping up. “Remy told me about the other night. Proud of you. Ororo would eat you alive if you didn’t try to respect.”

Logan felt nervous. He’d hadn’t told Remy about the sex, but he was positive the swamp rat knew. Logan switched the phone from one ear to the other. “Right. Glad to hear Remy’s putting my personal shit out there,” he joked, hoping to distract the conversation. “Anyways, is she in? I need to talk to her.”

“Yeah, she works late almost every night. You’d think you’d know that by now,” she hummed. Remy definitely said something. Logan was gonna choke the bastard. “Gimme a moment.”

After a brief pause, there was a click on the other line. “Munroe speaking,” she said automatically.

“Uh, hey, darlin.” Logan grabbed at some of the papers on his desk, ready to deliver his lines. “I had something to ask you.”

“I would imagine so,” she said sardonically. “What’s your question?”

“Just some numbers I wanted to let you know about.”

She sighed. “If you really want to go over numbers, ask Scott. He’s better at it than I am.”

“You told me you worked in the treasury department,” Logan reminded. One random conversation, Logan got her to reveal a little about her past as a politico. It wasn’t interesting, but Logan made sure to remember. “So?”

She sighed again. He imaged she looked at her wristwatch and put down whatever ball point pen she was holding. Christ, he was getting weird. He was remembering her mannerism. He rationalized it-- they’d been getting lunches together more often. Ever since Logan became her technical employee, he made sure to be nice to his technical boss. Yeah. It was just to make sure his job was always secured.

“I’m not... What’s the problem, Logan? I’m busy and I don’t have time for this,” she said hurriedly, her voice tinged with annoyance.

“I just wanna make sure you’re paying the right amount for all the material. I wanted to get a second opinion--”

“A second opinion?” she scoffed. She blew out air. “You’re in charge of this, Logan. I can give you the number of my friend down there-- Kitty Pryde; she’s great with numbers-- but I do not have the time nor the patience for this--”

“Long day?” Logan asked.

“Yes, and you’re making it longer. I’m trying to field a press storm so this isn’t exactly helping.” There was the soft sound of ruffling paper. “I’ve got her number. Do you have a pen?”

“Why don’t you give it to me in person?” asked Logan. “I’ll take you to dinner.”

“Logan, I am really--”

“My treat,” he added. “Don’t make me ask twice.”




Ororo traced the rim of her wine glass, chattering endlessly about the day she had. Logan paid attention and asked questions whenever she paused to chew. A part of him was genuinely interested-- she had a job that required nerves of steel and it was fascinating-- but the other half wanted to ask about her interests. Logan hated how he didn’t know what to do when she was involved.

Women who could catch him on his toes were always trouble, and she was definitely trouble. Hell, their first few meetings Logan couldn’t decide whether he wanted to fight her or fuck her. Since doing both he just wanted to know her.

“Anyways,” she sighed, “I’ll figure something out.” She stabbed her fork into her pasta and looked at him, smiling. “How was your day?”

Damn, she looked breath taking in the low light. He sat straighter. He needed to get his shit together because he wasn’t a big romantic. “Just as shitty as yours. Well, not as shitty, but definitely worth crap.” He wrapped noodles around his fork and grimaced. “I actually don’t wanna talk about work. Reminds me I still have a stack of paperwork to do.”

“Amen,” she mumbled, raising her wine glass. Logan smirked, tapping his glass of water against her glass. “What do you wanna talk about?” she mocked, using the same intonations as him.

He rolled his eyes. “Stop. You’re not an actress, so quit tryin’ to be one.”

“I’ve never acted a day in my life,” she argued. “And I think I’ve got you spot on. I’ve been practicing.”

“You’ve been practicing,” he deadpanned.

“And I think it was close. I should’ve added more grunts and growls. Would’ve sounded exactly like you.” She winked at him, tossing silver hair over her shoulder.

Before Logan could make a proper retort, someone called her name. Logan looked up and saw a hairy man with bright blue eyes practically bound towards her.

“Hank?” She rose, opening her arms. “How are you? What’re you doing here?” she asked. She wrapped her arms around his body, shooting Logan a strained look.

He squeezed her then moved in for a kiss. Ororo quickly turned, giving him her cheek. When he pulled away, he was still smiling. “I came to pick up a quick dinner.” He lifted his plastic bag for emphasis, then noticed Logan. “Hello there.”

“I’m Logan--”

“This is Logan. From work.” She stepped aside and motioned for him to stand. He did obediently, though it felt weird. “He works on the construction project.”

“Ah, you’re the man fixing the schools.” Hank extended his large hand. “It’s a genuine pleasure to meet you. Especially since you and Ororo seem... close.” He shook Logan’s hand, tightening the grip. “Is this a friendly dinner? You’ve barely touched your food, Ororo, my dear.” He looked at her. “Maybe you’re unwell. You are drinking and you know how that makes you.”

Ororo narrowed her eyes at him. “Logan is just a friend from work.”

Logan’s face stayed flat.

She sat back down at their table and smiled. “So what--” Her phone buzzed and she grabbed at it. She read the message and bit back a smile. Finally, some good news. She quickly responded, but halfway through her message, she got another text. She didn’t stop the smile spreading on her face. It took more than a little effort to put her phone down and stop texting.

“Good news?”

Ororo smiled sheepishly. “Yes. Sorry,” she tried. She picked up her fork and stabbed it into her food. “So what--” Her phone buzzed again. She looked up, a little repentant, but she couldn’t ignore the text. She sent a message quickly, saying she was at dinner, but would call later. She put her phone down. Two seconds later, she got another text. And while she didn’t pick up her phone, she pressed the home button to read the screen.

“I ask how your day is going, but it still obviously is.”

Ororo thinned her lips. “Oh, come on, Hank; I apologized.”

Hank wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh, you certainly did,” he muttered. He threw his napkin on the table and continued eating.

Ororo sat back, her jaw a little slack. “I know I was being rude, but it was important.”

“Really?” he asked, dryly. “What was so important?”

“Marie told me Logan--” Hank rolled his eyes. “--finished building today. Really, Hank? You’re getting mad about who I’m friends with?”

“You’re friends with him now?” Hank asked, his voice hushed. He looked around and exhaled. “We should get going or we’ll miss the show.” He picked up his plastic tray and stood, waiting. “We can talk about this later.”

Ororo stared up at him, wanting to get into a fight, but not in public. She wasn’t a fan of childish games and Hank was acting childishly. They’d only been dating a few months and already he was acting like they were married. It was unusual, too. Hank was always very calm, very understanding, and open. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she had to nip this in the bud. She rose and followed him outside.

The second the door closed behind them, Ororo grabbed at Hank’s elbow. “Hey,” she started. He turned and faced her. “What was that about?” she asked.

“I said--”

“I heard what you said, Hank. That’s why I’m asking about it.” She folded her arms to her chest. “What’s wrong with me being friends with Logan?”

Hank huffed a breath. “There isn’t anything wrong with you being friends with other men-- don’t think this is what this is about,” he said, motioning between them.

“But,” she said, knowing something was about to come.

“I don’t feel comfortable knowing you two have,” he flicked his eyes nervously, “a past. And you’re working with him.” He leaned in. “Don’t you think your relationship is just a little... Inappropriate?”

Ororo rolled her eyes. “We aren’t acting inappropriately. We went from hating each others guts to working together. There’s nothing wrong with being friendly with the people you work with--”

“There is, Ororo, and you’re just obtuse.” Hank took a calming breath. “We should hurry before we miss the show.”

It was childish, but the conversation they were having also felt childish, so she pouted her lips and frowned. “I don’t want to go.”

“Fine, then,” Hank said quickly. “Don’t.”

While she recovered quickly, she still felt a little hurt. “Good. I didn’t want to--”

Hank turned and began walking to his car. “Great,” he called over his shoulder.

Ororo huffed a breath and began walking in the opposite direction. She was aimless as she walked, but she knew her city like the back of her hand and didn’t feel like she’d get lost. Two turned corners and three blocks down she’d pass Jean’s workplace and if she took a sharp left and walked two more blocks, she’d be visiting Kurt at his fancy church. But she felt like doing neither so she continued walking.

Ororo didn’t know what to make of their... Argument? It didn’t get heated and yet they ended up mad at each other. And what was Hank really trying to get at? That she still had lingering feelings or something? How impossible! There were days when she still hated him for being a huge pig. She wasn’t in kindergarten-- she was capable of liking someone without being mean to them in the first place.

She stopped walking. “I don’t like him like that!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, right,” yelled back a passing stranger. Ororo shot them a glare as they turned to their friends, giggling.

Ororo huffed a breath and took two more steps before she realized Hank was her ride home. She groaned and palmed her forehead. Just great.

She reached into her pocket for her phone. Jean was nearby.



They sat in relative silence, letting Jean’s favorite song roll over them. Jean tapped her thumbs happily against the steering wheel, humming along. Her red hair swished in time to the beat even though her low hums sounded terrible. Ororo smiled a little, reminded of the fact that Jean wanted to sing lullabies to her baby. The poor kid’s ears would suffer.

“If you’re thinking about the fact that I’m the best singer ever, just know I agree,” Jean smirked.

Ororo rolled her eyes. “As if.”

Jean pulled into the tight parking spot and smiled at Ororo. “So weren’t you supposed to be on a date?” Ororo cringed. “Come on, Ororo. You could’ve called a taxi--”

“You’re free--”

“Or taken the subway or bus or walked,” Jean continued, ignoring Ororo. “But you called me. So I guess you guys got into a fight? What about?”

Ororo bit her lip, trying to figure out how much she wanted to reveal. “Well... We got into a fight over my friendship with another man.”

Jean groaned. “I hate when Scott pulls that crap.” She patted Ororo’s knee. “I understand completely.” She narrowed her eyes when Ororo looked away too quickly. “Come on. Really?” She laughed. “You dog!”

“How can you laugh about this?” Ororo cried. “He really thinks I like someone else.”

“Sorry, but you’re always so squeaky clean. It’s just funny.” Jean sighed and grinned. “You don’t, right?”

“I don’t think I like your smile...”

“Because you wouldn’t have gotten into an argument like this if you didn’t.” Jean cocked a brow, waiting.

“I really don’t like your smile,” Ororo repeated. “Nothing has happened. You know I’d never cheat. I’m just pissed Hank thinks I would.” Jean nodded, her smile gone at the serious comment. Ororo opened the car door and stepped out. “Thanks for giving me a lift--”

“Any time.”

Ororo smiled and waved her best friend off, and headed inside. The second she closed the door behind herself, she got a text.

Mind if we meet for drinks? I wanna celebrate the job finally being done.-- Logan.

Ororo rolled her eyes; he had perfect timing.

She tapped out a text, letting him know she’d just gotten home.

He responded, saying he wouldn’t mind having drinks at her place.



Logan jogged up the steps of her townhouse, admiring the quiet neighborhood. Before he raised his fist to knock on her door, he told himself that this wasn’t serious and she was in a relationship. He nearly shook himself: What the hell was he thinking? They were friends; his dick could stay in his pants without being reminded. He was a human being, not an animal. She was with someone and they were friends so that was the end of that.

He was doing it again! He heaved a sigh and knocked roughly on her door. She answered quickly, looking frantic. “Hey, it’s cold out here.”

“Hello to you, too, Logan.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”

“I said ‘hey.’” Logan shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her couch. He held out his gift-- bourbon in a brown bag. She smiled at him and took it. “You have a nice place,” he mused.

“Thanks,” she said. Motioning around her townhouse, “Make yourself at home,” she encouraged. She moved to her kitchen and grabbed two glasses. Logan sat himself on her couch, rubbing his chin. “Ice?” she asked.

“I’m good,” he said. He looked over at her. “You’re not gonna ask how excited I am?”

“I assumed you would just come out with it.” She winked at him and walked over to her couch, the two glasses in hand, as well as the bottle. She tossed her silvery hair over her shoulder and poured him a glass. “Do you want me to ask?”

“I’m certainly not gonna beg you,” he joked. His eyes were trained on her, watching her hair fall over her shoulder and cover her face. He reached over and tucked it behind her ear. Before she could say anything else, he jerked his hand back. “But it would be nice.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” she smirked.

“Geez, Ro, are we talking about the same thing here?” he said brusquely.

She snapped up straight, glaring at him. “You can’t be serious!” She scoffed. “You and Hank!” She furiously waved her hand. “He implied the same thing.”

“I was joking, but Christ.” He took his drink. He wouldn’t put it past her to take the thing and chuck it. “You... uh... wanna talk about it? That-- I mean. You and... Hank,” he forced out, feeling awkward. He didn’t come over here to be blamed for something that hadn’t happened.

She flopped onto the couch and shook her head. “Sorry. I just wanted to get that out. I’m so pissed he feels that way. He actually thinks you and I have a history.” She rolled her eyes again. “We’ve just started being friends. The fact that we’ve had sex doesn’t mean we have lingering feelings. I mean, come on! We’ve got so little in common.”

“Yeah, but we’re soul mates,” he joked half heartedly.

Ororo chuckled. “Right.” She picked up her glass and raised it in the air. “No more sad stuff. Here’s to your recent success.”

“Cheers.”


There was a faint buzzing in his head and Logan wondered why his pillow smelled like vanilla soap. He rolled his head, groaning. He didn’t want to wake up. He was comfortable. His pillow adjusted, pressing itself into his face. Logan dimly wondered why that was, but he still wrapped his arms around it and held it down. “Stop moving, Ro.”

“You’re heavy,” she muttered, her voice thick and lazy from sleep. Logan huffed a breath and squeezed her tighter. Oh, that’s right. He’d passed out at Ororo’s house. He shifted to make her comfortable; she rubbed his back in thanks. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

He hummed his agreement, fighting the realization. It was too early to feel regretful.

The sentiment wasn't shared with Ororo.

She stared up at her ceiling, her mind hazy from waking up. Something was weird about this... Why was she always involving herself with a man she swore she hated? This man was the reason she and Hank were fighting.

Oh, no... Hank. What would he think about this? Ororo huffed a breath. Well, who cared what that man thought? Hank assumed the worst about her and Logan even after she was completely honest.

"Go back to sleep, Ro. Too early for whatever hell you're about to raise."

Ororo hated herself for it, but she smiled. "Who said I was going to raise hell?" she asked, her voice still sleepy. Logan clicked his tongue and rolled his head on her stomach to get a better look at her. He cocked a brow, forcing her hand. "Fine," she sighed. "But don't think I'm mad at you--"

"I rarely do. I always assume you're mad at yerself."

"Oh, do you now?" she purred, smoothing his hair down.

Logan shrugged. "Have for a while." Logan caught her hand and squeezed it. "I always assumed you got mad at me cuz you can't decide whether you wanna be with me," he released her hand and began sliding his calloused palms under her shirt, "or keep denying it."

Ororo stared at him, trying to figure out if he was being the cruelest man alive, but the way his touch felt... She bit her lip and sat up quickly, accidentally catching his chin on her knee. "Don't be weird," she said hurriedly.

"I'm not," he grumbled, rubbing his chin. "Ro, what--"

"Hank and I are serious."

"I didn't say you weren't?" Logan smiled. "Well, shit. I was teasin' you earlier. Couldn't you tell?" He got up and slid his hands around her waist, his hands once again finding their way under her shirt. He kissed her shoulder, listening to her shaky sigh. "I guess I know you better than I thought."

"Apparently not," she snipped, stepping away and slapping his hands. "Stop. You're getting way too friendly--"

"That's how you treat your friends?" Logan fell back on her couch. "Not sure how I feel about this development. Guess we're not friends." He grinned, much to Ororo's chagrin.

She soured her face at him, wanting so badly to wipe that smug grin off his face.

"Don't be angry. I'll buy you breakfast. At that spot you like?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "The vegan place?"

Logan wanted to roll his eyes. He hated how the food there tasted, but he hated seeing her look all worried. He had to remind himself: This wasn't his girl. "Sure."



Hank sat across from Scott, sipping his coffee slowly. "I just don't understand. We used to be so close."

"You guys are still close," Scott replied. "Every couple fights. Jean and I?-- well, we fight all the time. It's not a big deal. In fact, it's good to air out frustrations. Or so Jean tells me." Scott grinned at Hank from across the table. "What was it about?"

"Logan."

"Huh." Scott couldn't think of anything else to say. "So why--"

"They," Hank cleared his throat. "I'm not one to gossip."

"No. No, you're not." Scott swallowed, suddenly very interested. He tempered his reaction by swallowing another gulp of coffee.

"She and Logan... They once were... close."

"Oh. Oh!" Scott looked away, grimacing. But she was so tall! And while he was dedicated to Jean-- Ororo was undeniably attractive; few men were worthy of her, and Logan wasn't one of them. "I'm sure it was a one time thing," he said, trying to not sound like he was fishing.

Hank ran his hand through his hair. This was difficult for him. All his relationships seemed to get fucked up a major way. What was wrong with him? Wasn't he worthy of commitment? He'd done his best to be good to Ororo, and it seemed like she didn't want to do the same. "The worst part is that they used to hate each other."

"They knew each other before they were together?"

Hank nodded. "She met him on an online dating site. She told me." Hank swallowed some coffee, knowing he was being an ass. He was giving away more than he should have, but he couldn't stop. He was pissed. Retribution was needed. "I guess they've been keeping in contact."

Scott swallowed again, unsure of what to say to that. There was no way Ororo was so desperate as to meet someone online. That was just so dangerous. Anyone could've been there-- she could've met a potential stalker! But apparently, she just met someone who would barely qualify. Their working together didn't exactly constitute as stalking, did it?

Oh, no. They knew each other.

"Hank, we hired him for the contracting job."

Hank looked at his friend, suddenly regretting everything he'd just said. His heart seized up; he could do without a sex scandal while he was still dating the poor woman.

Well, he assumed he was dating the poor woman.

"Scott--"

"I know what you're thinking, and I agree. We're already under scrutiny, but I will have to talk to her about this. And the mayor." He thinned his lips in an awkward smile. "I won't mention your name. I promise."

Click. Click. Click.

Logan could feel eyes on him. He slid his eyes sideways and noticed Scott staring at him. Again. Logan briefly wondered what was up with that guy before facing the mayor again. Something was up, but since Logan didn't care about whatever Scooter thought of him, it ranked well below paying attention to the stupid meeting they were in. Logan resumed clicking the cap of his pen, trying to stay focused.

Honestly?-- he should've been interested in whatever the mayor was saying. The meeting was called to praise Logan's construction job; it didn't seem necessary but there they were. He caught stray words-- 'great,' 'excellent,' and 'celebration'-- but in the end, it wasn't really all that special. He didn't want a party thrown in his honor; the job was for city and it didn't feel right using spare funds on a party.

Give him a bottle of spirits and a beautiful woman and he was set. Actually, he thought, a smile on his face, the woman part was pretty much halfway there.

He looked at Ororo, dragging his eyes from her gorgeous face, to her pouty mouth, further down her swan-like neck, and finally resting his eyes on her breasts.

Hank didn't deserve her. Hell, Logan knew he, himself didn't deserve her, but Hank even less. That guy kept fucking a real good thing.

The logical part of Logan's mind chimed in, letting him know that Logan was no better. In fact, they could barely get through a simple conversation without getting into it, but at least there was chemistry.

She shifted, almost nervously. Logan smirked. She knew he was looking.

Yeah. They were better meant for one another. Fuck Hank. That guy didn't deserve her.

"Do you agree?"

"Of course," Logan said quickly, sitting up. He stopped clicking his pen top and flashed Charles a shit-eating grin. He had no idea what was going on at the moment, but he wasn't about to let everyone else know. That would look unprofessional, and Logan was nothing but professional.

Well, for the most part.

"And you'll be ready?" asked Charles, a brow cocked.

"With bells and whistles, Chuck."

Charles gave him a skeptical look once more before deciding to give in. "Alright then. Meeting adjourned." Charles scooted away from the desk and looked to Ororo. "My office."

She nodded, gathering her things and rising to her full height. Logan admired how she filled out her skirt suit, and even though she was much taller than he in her heels, he couldn't deny the aesthetic.

Not even his conscious could argue the sight.

He moved to approach her when she raised a hand to stop him. He would've missed the action-- it was so quick-- but her face read... Serious? No, more like... worried.

Logan felt eyes on himself. In his peripheral vision, Logan saw Scott give a hard look, then leave the conference room.

Huh.

"C'mon, sug," Marie said, grabbing his shoulder. "I got something to show you."


Ororo passed Marie and Logan swiftly, her heels making a clicking sound on the low-pile carpet. She clutched her portfolio to her chest as she made her way to her office. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts before getting chewed out again. And she knew it was coming. She wasn't exactly sure why, but judging by the way Scott was acting this morning, and their weird conversation in the break room... She knew.

She grabbed her bottle of water from her desk and took a gulp. God, what was going on? There wasn't even a memo sitting on her desk to give her a hint-- if Marie didn't know, it was really bad. Charles personally told her to see him. That wasn't a good sign. She sat behind her desk, scrounging her mind, looking for context clues from Scott.

He hadn't said anything particularly telling, just that he met Hank over the weekend. It shouldn't have felt weird, but his tone was off. But then again, she just had a fight with Hank.

Oh, God... What did he say...

She glanced at the clock on her computer and got up; there was no putting this off.


It was a slow day. Trish sighed, sitting back in her chair, reflecting on how amazing that statement was. It was a slow day for press. In New York. The apocalypse had to be coming.

"What're you doing, Trish?" asked the pencil pusher in the next cubicle.

"Thinking. Plotting." Trish dropped her head against the back of the chair and looked up at the ceiling.

The pencil pusher chuckled. "About your apology to the Mayor?"

Trish squeezed her eyes shut. "No. Why would I apologize about reporting the truth?"

"Uh... Because your little story meant nothing? The construction project is done. Nobody cares about the minor details."

Trish smirked. "Great scandals have been uncovered thanks to minor details, my friend. Always keep an eye out for them," Trish advised.

"Sure." There was a long pause, broken only by Trish making a squeaking sound. "What?"

"I'm hungry."

"For a story?"

"No, I'm actually hungry." She checked her wristwatch. "I'm due for a break."

Trish fled from her little cell, thankful for the lunch break. She wouldn't have much time to eat, thankfully the place allowed carryout. She couldn't wait for the day where she could take hour long lunches, but she felt she was close. Forget what anyone said: She was destined for the big leagues.

She'd been raised right-- she always trusted herself and her leads, and she never trusted the government. If there was a chance of a story, she always knew where to turn. Her time would come. She just had to be ready.

She opened the doors to her favorite restaurant, her eyes glued to her wristwatch. It wasn't particularly full in the restaurant; she wasn't worried about bumping into anyone.

"--Don't know what's wrong with you--"

Trish opened her purse and approached the hostess. "Yeah, I'm here to pick up? Trish Tillby." She handed over her credit card, smiling politely.

"One moment, Ms. Tillby."

"--Really, Hank? It's my job! You jeopardized my job."

Trish turned her head. She was fully aware that eavesdropping was wrong, but she was a reporter, so it was kind of a grey area for her. And anyways, it was their fault for having a private conversation in public.

"Please, Ororo, understand I was angry."

Ororo?

"I don't care, Hank. If you're angry, you talk to me about it. You don't go to Scott. He works with me. You didn't think he'd bring it to my attention? To Charles'?"

Trish whipped her head around, honing in on the voice. She caught Ororo's reflection in a mirror.

"Well?"

Her date stiffened. "You shouldn't have involved yourself with him to begin with. Your relationship with him is incredibly inappropriate. If Charles and Scott came down on you, it's from your own actions."

"Don't you dare change the subject, Hank," Ororo snapped, raising her index finger at him. "Your fit of jealousy over a friendship--"

"With a coworker you had sex with--"

She thinned her lips; Trish knew the look. Hank was about to get dragged for filth over a low blow like that. If Trish wasn't snooping, she'd actually pity the couple.

"You know, Hank: I'm done," Ororo said, rising from her seat. "Your insecure, loud mouth is completely unattractive. I find it remarkable," she sighed, moving her bangs from her face, "that this is the most talent I've seen come out of it. It's a shame, really, because even drunk, Logan was better at being mouthy than you." She cocked her head, flicking her eyes over his face.

God, Trish would've given up this lead just to see Hank's shocked expression.

And then, like the cold hearted bitch Trish knew Ororo was, Ororo hummed a sigh and smiled minutely. "Don't ever call me again."

The hostess came back with Trish's food and credit card. "Sorry for wait."

"It's no problem. I'm sure it'll be worth the wait."

Oh, yes. Trish was destined for the big leagues: It was in the minor details.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay! I'm gonna stitch the chapters together later.