Summary: Summary: Alternate universe. Romance for romance’s sake, no Sentinels, Brotherhood, or current continuity, but the characters are still Marvel’s. The quotes are from Hans Christian Andersen. I’ll be delving back into 616 Universe once I consult my back issues, I promise. In the meantime, sorry if I’m boring the crap out of anyone.
Categories: General Characters: None
Genres: Romance
Warnings: Adult language
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 9
Completed: Yes
Word count: 50608
Read: 27999
Published: 04-29-06
Updated: 05-09-06
1. High Maintenance by OriginalCeenote
2. Damn Tourists by OriginalCeenote
3. Room to Spread Out by OriginalCeenote
4. Wet by OriginalCeenote
5. Better? by OriginalCeenote
6. That Funny Little Tickle by OriginalCeenote
7. Chafed by OriginalCeenote
8. Cold Concrete by OriginalCeenote
9. I Won't Budge by OriginalCeenote
High Maintenance by OriginalCeenote
Once upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry a princess; but she would have to be a real princess. He travelled all over the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted.
****
“Daaadd! I want CANDY!”
“I told you once, sweetie, Daddy’s just getting some gas and some smokes, we’ll eat at the next stop!”
“NO!” Pale blue eyes squinted atop pudgy cheeks already ruddy with the beginnings of a tantrum. Pale wisps of hair escaped from pigtails fastened with pink plastic bobble holders that had ceased looking tidy four hours ago. The wispy strands swished with every stomp of her Hello Kitty sandal-shod foot on the hardwood floor. “I want candy NOW! Want it! Want it! WAAAANNNNT IT! Wantitwantitwantit ““
“Now listen…” His lower lids were droopy from bad rest stop coffee, too many sleepless hours on the road, and the sun shining into his eyes as he wound his way up the mountain pass in last year’s Ford SUV. At this altitude, no matter which way he turned the sun shade, the glare ended up in his eyes. It was a losing battle.
Not unlike this one.
“Candy! Candy!” Beneath the scowl and flailing fists, she was enjoying herself. Even if the outburst didn’t yield the desired outcome “ namely a pack of strawberry Airheads, god-awful as they were “ the chance to let off some steam and create the mother of all public spectacles was too tempting, too precious. Her eyes gleamed with perceived malice. Or maybe he was just tired…
Her voice wavered just this side of shrill fishwife as she continued chanting her tribute to the Pagan Gods of Tooth Decay and “Just Wait til You Have Kids of Your Own” comeuppance. He stared at her for a seemingly helpless, tortured moment, then heaved a heavy sigh of defeat. He picked up a copy of the map that he’d come in for and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, along with a jumbo-sized bottle of blue Power Ade sport drink. His heavy workboots clomped up to the counter. A slender Japanese woman with boyishly short hair turned down the radio behind her as she sauntered up to the register to ring him up.
“DADDY!” Small feet came stomping up after him. The Airheads were clutched in her tight, sweating little fists.
“Put that back. One pack of Marlboros, please. And thirty dollars on pump five.”
“Want my candy!” The cashier looked amused and bored, a faint hint of a smile quirking the left corner of her mouth at the frazzled pair.
“I said no.”
“Mmmmmmm-EEEEHHHHHHHH!!!!” THUMP! The packet of Airheads skittered across the floor as she threw all forty pounds of her kidney bean-shaped body against the floor planks and planted her forehead against it, slapping it with her palms.
Actually, you didn’t say no, Dad, the cashier mused. You just stood there and waffled like a chump. “Here’s your change, sir.” The remaining bills were crumpled and stuffed into the breast pocket of his faded workshirt. He gratefully tapped a cigarette loose from the pack and pursed it between his dry lips.
“You can’t smoke that in here,” the cashier warned before he could depress the button on the lighter.
“Sorry,” he acknowledged before turning back to the sobbing heap screaming what a doo-doo head he was, how mean, how unfair, how he didn’t love her for not getting her the caaannnnndddyyyyy. “Daddy’s leaving. Buh-bye. I’m going without you…”
“AAAAAAAHHH! DADDYYYYYY! DON’T GOOOO! NOOOOO!”
“Come on, then. Mommy’s waiting.” Mommy was happily oblivious and flicking through the radio channels to find a station that would even come in this high up, windows rolled down to let in the faint breeze.
The cashier smiled with relief as the backs of the pink Hello Kitty sandals flashed, lighting up with each stomping step out the door of the spacious country store.
“Least he didn’t smack her in the middle of the store,” rumbled a low, raspy voice thick with the local accent of a man who’d spent the best, and maybe the worst years of his life in the Canadian Rockies.
“You could tell he was dying to,” she tossed back. “Can you cover me? I need a potty break, Logan.”
“Sure, kid.” He chuckled under his breath at hearing her call the head “the potty.” Women.
“I’m going out on lunch in about twenty minutes. You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”
“ ‘Course. And Yukio, make sure ya remind Jubes to clean out room four, and ta bring the kitty litter. College kids back from a bender stayed there last night and left a present by the couch.”
“Eeeecccchhh. Nasty,” she cringed, turning up her nostril.
“Yeah,” he sighed. He reached below the counter for his cigar box, a gift from Jubilee on his last makeshift “birthday.” The box was made from thin, well-varnished cedar and haphazardly decorated with tickets. Concert tickets, ballpark tickets, plane ticket stubs, all decoupaged into a collage of everywhere the three of them had been since he took her into his home and lonely life.
“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing it curiously as he’d lifted it carefully from the discarded wrapping tissue on his lap.
“Just a place to keep your cigars. And maybe a few memories,” she hedged, glancing up at him through her dark lashes. “I know it means a lot t’you t’be able to remember stuff, with everything that’s happened t’you, an’ all, Logan.” She picked at her thumbnail, already ragged from chewing it while she had assembled the cake, card and gift before him, worrying the whole time. Her worries proved unfounded as an uncharacteristic smile, warm as the sun, crept across his face. Yukio had just shook her head and smiled at the scene that felt like something straight out of an episode of “Eight is Enough.”
They’d be back to cussin’ and fussin’ at each other by morning. Maybe even before nightfall. I love that spunky little squirt, damn it. And she felt that familiar, comfortable soft spot for her old friend of nearly ten years as she swatted his hand, nearly making him drop the cigar back in its nest.
“Hey!”
“No lighting up in here. I just told Mister Father of the Year a little while ago not to dirty up my nice clean floor with his ashes. I’m not letting you off the hook just ‘cause you own this dump.”
“Nice. Real nice talk, little ronin.”
“You’re the bad influence.”
“Whaddever. Quit callin’ my piece of shit store a dump. You’ll hurt her feelins’, girl.” Yukio snorted and raked her slender fingers through her short, spiky black hair. Logan marveled at how fresh and pretty she could manage to look, even with a haircut that resembled a hedgehog. Spiky, bellicose, and flying every which way. Like Yukio. Logan trimmed the cigar and chewed on it as Yukio made her way back to the tiny ladies’ rest room. He reached for his favorite Zippo lighter and played with it, seeing how high he could make the flame shoot from the spout. The late afternoon sunlight shone against the mother-of-pearl barrel. Logan stroked his thumb over it lovingly, letting out a gusty sigh.
The memories that this gift carried were both a precious and terrible burden that robbed him of sleep, more nights than he could count. Logan ignored the questionable wisdom of leaving the cash register unattended and stepped out onto the front porch, feeling the floorboards creak under his weather-beaten black Ropers.
The first embers of the lit cigar made a crackling sound as he drew the first gust of mellow smoke into his lungs. The sun was still shining brightly enough, but small, fluffy clouds dotted the horizon, delivering him that odd little buzz in the back of his neck that he had whenever a storm was brewing. The hairs on his forearms stood on end as he scanned the perimeter of the small parking gravel parking lot. Customers had been few and far in-between all day as the last of the tourists departed back down the hill. The previous weeks had Logan counting more Toronto Maple Leaf bumper stickers than he could shake a stick at and answering stupid questions about “why do Canadians call ham bacon?” Friggin’ tourists. Jubes tripled her allowance money in tips, but that never kept her from being all too vocal about the messes left behind in the cozy bungalows behind the store, sometimes to the point of t.m.i.
“Really gotta get that kid back in school,” he muttered out loud.
“No shit. Kid’s been watching too much damned MTV reality shows and court TV while she’s cleaning the rooms. Aren’t you supposed to be watching the cash box while I go to lunch?” Yukio elbowed him, then looked at the far-off expression in his eye and tightness around the corners of his mouth. “Logan-sama? Hellooooo?”
“Go eat. Ain’t no one here. Figure we’ll get more of a crowd around rush hour.”
“Want me to bring back anything?”
“Bring me one of whatever you’re having.” Logan extracted his wallet from his snug, frayed Levi’s and handed her a crumpled ten. With a side of hot sauce.” There were only two restaurants this far up the mountain: A yuppie vegetarian juice bar run by the homeschooling hippie mom that made the patchwork quilt hanging on Logan’s living room wall, and the steakhouse a couple of miles off that grilled a ribeye that you could cut through like butter. Logan had been friends with Mac and that pretty wife of his, Heather from the day he’d bought the property from the previous owner. Nice folks, he reflected. Heather was a real looker, librarian glasses an’ all, and she made a mean buttered rum on those nights when he chopped them a cord of firewood in exchange for meal credit. But mostly, he just enjoyed heading over there to talk.
Mac’s joke from the other night echoed in Logan’s head as he took another pull from his cigar, wheezing out a chuckle:
”So this woman walks into a pharmacy, steps up to the back counter, and tells the pharmacist, ‘I need you sell me some cyanide.’
He looks at her strangely and says ‘Ma’am, you do know what cyanide is for, don’t you? It’s a poison.’
‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘I know that. I want to use it to kill my husband.’
‘Ma’am, I can’t give it to you. That’s murder.’ Then she pulls out a snapshot of her husband- get this, Runt “ IN BED with the pharmacist’s wife! And he looks at it long and hard before handing it back to her, saying ‘Well, now, you didn’t tell me you had a prescription!’”
Logan heard the revving of his motorcycle and the tires kicking up pebbles as Yukio screeched out of the lot, blowing him a friendly kiss beneath the visor of her red helmet. He saluted her retreating back and sat down on the steps.
He never had the chance to make himself too comfortable. Two minutes later, Logan looked up from the hole in his knee that was steadily growing in size from tearing threads out one at a time when a sleek black BMW pulled up to pump four. Logan rose to his feet and dusted off his jeans instinctively, one quick glance telling him that the driver was female and had enough money to top off the tank with premium without batting an eyelash. He wasn’t prepared for the compelling woman that stepped out.
“Purple?” he muttered incredulously. “Damn.” As she approached, Logan heard the faint crunch of gravel beneath her high-heeled mule sandals and noticed that she was perhaps a couple of inches, no, make that three inches taller than him, even flat-footed. Her height and lean, athletic physique, however, were nowhere near as striking as her hair, dyed a stunning shade of amethyst purple. The well-styled layers waved down past her shoulder blades and framed a face with high cheekbones and a patrician profile. Her smile held a faint dimple as she came up the steps.
“Twenty dollars on four,” she announced. Logan stepped aside to allow her to pass, admiring her shapely assets as she strolled into his store.
“Need anything else with that, miss?”
“Just a few little things,” she said absently, almost ignoring him as she perused the postcard rack and feigned interest in the fancy bottles of pure, local maple syrup. “And you could tell me who owns the bungalows out back.”
“You needin’ a place ta stay?”
“If they’re for rent,” she clarified, her voice clipped and efficient as her heels clicked over to the ice box. She extracted a bottle of Fiji water and a Frosfruit popsicle. Coconut-lime. Hunh.
“They are. I’ve got two vacancies after the six-o’clock checkout. The one-bedroom bungalow’s fifty for one night, eighty-five fer the whole weekend.”
“Sounds like a bargain.” She brought her purchases to the counter and removed her sunglasses, folding them and hanging them from the open collar of her blouse. “I’m Betsy,” she told him, extending her hand.
“Logan.” Logan drank her in, curious about the mix of ethnicities that went into this haughty, striking woman. Her accent was thick with pear-shaped vowels and a British lilt. That eye-catching purple hair framed a face with almond-shaped brown eyes that reminded him of Yukio’s. She had the graceful posture and walk of a dancer or a model, yet looked like she maintained her figure from good exercise rather than starving herself.
“Nice to meet you, Logan.” Logan’s eyes flitted to her mouth. Her teeth were even and perfectly straight, without the over-correction of bite on a person that had worn braces as a child. “I’ll take the one-bedroom one, then. Can you recommend anywhere good to eat?”
“What’s yer pleasure?”
“Somewhere that I can get a nice salad?” Logan mentally rolled his eyes.
“Then ya want the Power Station down the road, one exit down. It’s a juice bar and ‘fresh choice’ typ’a joint. Margaret Power runs it. Ya might stumble over her rugrats on the way in. She’s got four of ‘em, an’ they all study at home.” Salad. Logan winced and shook his head as he bagged her purchases. Betsy tucked her postcards into her purse to keep them from getting wet in the bag.
“Sounds great! So I’ll be back at six.”
“I’ll have housekeeping put the finishing touches on it and leave a light on,” he promised.
There were princesses enough, but it was difficult to find out whether they were real ones. There was always something about them that was not as it should be. So he came home again and was sad, for he would have liked very much to have a real princess.
****
An hour later:
“Whoo!” Yukio smothered a belch behind her fingers. “I’m stuffed! That hit the spot.”
“No complaints here, darlin’.” Logan collected the white Styrofoam to-go cartons and empty sauce cups, licking up the last drop of Mac’s spicy red-hot barbecue dip, sucking it from his two fingers in satisfaction. He heard the front screen door hinges creak just as he caught the last of it.
“That must have tasted pretty good.” Betsy strolled into the tiny office and made herself comfortable in the cracked red leather chair beside Logan’s in-box. Yukio raised her eyebrows at Logan, silently demanding an introduction. Logan nodded, gesturing to her. “Betsy, Yukio. Yukio, Betsy’s renting number four.”
“Hi.”
“Hey there. Where you traveling from?”
“I’m actually headed back to Manhattan. I’ve got an early shoot on Monday.”
“You model?”
“A little.”
“Anything we might have seen?” Yukio kept fishing. The purple hair amused her and seemed at odds with the sedate luxury car out front.
Betsy reached into her purse and pulled out a Polaroid photo. “This is the proof from a Vogue cover I did two months ago.” Yukio took the proffered picture.
“Shit. I’ve got this issue sitting at home in my john. Nice gig.” She handed it back, meeting her eyes. “You don’t mind my asking you, Bets, what nationality are you?”
“Nationality? As far as where I’ve lived, here and there. I was raised in London. For all intents and purposes, though, I’m part Japanese.”
“Which side of the family didja get the purple hair from?” Yukio’s eyes crinkled wickedly. Logan wrinkled his nose. Geez. Women…once they get started…
“My mother’s side. Think it was my aunt, maybe you know her, Miss Clairol?” Logan smiled, deciding the coolness he perceived in her manner earlier might have been for show.
“Yukio, go ahead and give Betsy the keys and show her the private parking. I already locked the pumps and the store.”
“Here y’go,” Yukio chirped, dangling the keychain in the air a moment, motioning for Betsy to catch it as she tossed it at her. She caught it deftly, left-handed, as she rose from the leather chair.
“Locals do anything for entertainment here?”
“This is it,” Yukio scoffed. “Not much in the ten-mile radius.”
“Not much, ‘cept fer Mac’s open mike night. Didja see the little barbecue joint across the road from the Power Station?”
“Uh-huh.” Betsy’s eyes twinkled as she tucked the room key into the pocket of her khaki capris. She had seen it. And it hadn’t looked like much, but now she was curious.
“That’s Mac’s. Owner’s a friend of mine. That’s yer best bet. Drinks aren’t watered down, they’ve got a decent jukebox, an’ every now an’ again, you’ll get a band that doesn’t sound like their parents kicked ‘em outta the garage.”
“Unless you’re more into the highbrow scene, coming from Manhattan, an’ all,” Yukio drawled.
“Not really. I spent just as much time out on the piss as I did in class while I was at Oxford.” Betsy dug through her purse and pulled out a American Express platinum card. Yukio whistled. Logan shot her his best look of “quit actin’ like a kid” and ran the credit number and expiration date, then handed her the receipt to sign, tearing off the yellow copy. Their eyes met as she took it from him, brushing her fingers against his. Something stirred in him at the light touch. No fireworks, no butterflies, just that warm little tingle that you feel when a connection’s been made.
“Have a good time tonight, Betsy. Hope ya enjoy yer stay.” Betsy’s mules clicked their way through the screen door.
“I might, if I had someone to share it with. Just a suggestion,” she sang over her shoulder.
“Yeah. Good night. Love you too, Princess,” Yukio muttered. The screen door swished shut with a bang.
“Pull yer claws back in, chickadee, ya might scratch somebody.”
“You’re not headed to Mac’s tonight. She’s high-maintenance, Logan. Just one whiff of that Tuscany cologne should’ve been your first clue, that and those overpedicured toes.”
“Wasn’t lookin’ at her toes,” he reminded her.
“Whaddever. Me, I don’t want any woman sizing me up the way she was you.” Yukio’s preferences were no real secret. It was one more little thing she was frank about from the day they’d met, even back in the day when their friendship evolved into an on-again, off-again “no strings” agreement. So instead of just being an ex who’d followed him out of the country and back to his old stomping grounds, she’d become both enduring friend and resident mother hen, both to him and Jubilee, and she never failed to remind him that she couldn’t make up her mind which of them needed mothering more.
“Sizing me up for what?” It was a redundant question. He just liked to push her buttons. Yukio snorted. It was an indelicate snort.
“Don’t make me tell you. Better yet,” she turned back to him from lifting her purse off the coat hook, “don’t make me pry the Jack Daniels out of your hand when she burns you. And she will.”
“Maybe she digs my sparkling wit.” His smile almost but not quite reached his pensive hazel eyes.
“So did I, once. That’s why I named it Mr. Happy.”
Logan toyed with the idea of hitting Mac’s over the next half-hour as he tuned in the evening news. He moistened his lips with a long pull of beer, savoring it. Nothing did a better job of washing the dust blowing in from the dusty mountain pass like a Molson.
She was a tempting little piece, that Betsy. Correction, bub. Tempting woman. Purple hair notwithstanding. Logan liked to think he had the wisdom of experience, coupled with the insight of his favorite ex-lover to help him make up his mind.
One, yeah, she was high maintenance.
Two, she was driving back to Manhattan. He didn’t have any problem with the thought of a one-night stand, other than that awkward moment in the morning when he laid there, tangled in the covers, trying to decide between a sneaky exit or a shambling “I’ll call you, or something.” She was from Manhattan, for cripes’ sake. “Same time next year?” Nope.
And three…let’s face it. It got old. Logan was guilty who knew how many times over of “love ‘em an’ leave ‘em,” but underneath it all, he was old-fashioned. Once upon a time, he’d been a marrying man. He twiddled the silver dog tags around his neck, then flicked them with his finger.
Logan wanted the brass ring. Just once, he wanted to wake up in the morning next to someone that not only made him wanna stay between the sheets a little while longer, but who he didn’t have to promise to call. Because maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t wanna leave.
Logan heard light footsteps thumping on the wrought iron stairs. He peered outside at the sky, letting out an exasperated sigh at the fading pink rays of the sunset.
SLAM!
“Yer late,” he growled.
“I know, I know. Sorry,” Jubilee huffed, dropping her books on the pine table with a clatter. “Julie was tryin’ t’talk me into staying over to use their new telescope. She wanted to show me this planet her dad found.”
“Planet?” Logan’s bushy dark brows rumpled in disbelief.
“Uh-huh. He even named it. Called it ‘Kymellia,’ or somethin’ weird. I lost track of time when Jules was showing me what she learned in geometry.”
“Ain’t she younger than you?”
“Yup. Home-schooled, though. You know Mrs Power’s always keeping ‘em a step ahead. Freaky Alex knows how to read stuff in Latin, and not just pig Latin where you shuffle the letters around and add ‘ay’ to everything.”
“So now he’s ‘Freaky Alex.’ Nice.” Logan sipped his beer and changed the channel to Jubes’ favorite. “Ya never know. What’s freaky to ya right now might knock ya off yer feet a few years from now. It ain’t always about the guys with barbed wire tattooed around their arms or who cover themselves in Old Navy logos.”
“K Swiss.”
“’Scuse me?”
“K Swiss is cool now.”
“Whaddever.”
“Didja get that sick up off the floor?”
“Uuuugggh. Yuck. Yes. Bastards didn’t even leave a tip!”
“Language, Half-Pint.”
“Learned it from you,” she tossed back as she rummaged through the fridge. She pulled out the leftover spaghetti and peeled back the plastic lid, giving it a sniff before inserting it into the microwave. She hit “reheat” and poured herself some apple juice in her favorite Spongebob Squarepants glass. She gulped it thirstily and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “Who was the chick with the purple hair?”
“Name’s Betsy. She’s headed back to Manhattan. Rentin’ number four.”
“Glad I used some lemon spray when I mopped, then.” Logan was mid-gulp and nearly choked when Jubilee shrugged, “She seemed kinda high maintenance.”
Damn Tourists by OriginalCeenote
Late that night:
Logan sat outside on the store’s front steps, letting the cooling breeze ruffle already disheveled hair. He chewed on his second cigar of the day, reminding himself that he needed to order another shipment on Tuesday. The night hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. After Jubilee hugged and kissed him goodnight, Logan flipped through the channels, trying to settle on anything that would distract him for another hour, or even bore him into some semblance of sleep. ESPN. ESPN2. Univision. Everybody Loves Raymond. Tragedy movie of the week on Lifetime. CSI reruns. Golden Girl reruns…naaaahhh. Oooh, Steven Seagall movie. That’ll work.
Of course it didn’t work…Logan nodded off and woke up to an informercial for Proactiv, wondering why the hell any celebrity would wanna admit out loud that they suffered from anything as mundane and taboo as acne. His nap on the couch left him with a crick in his neck and too alert to go back to bed. So here he was, with a smoke smuggled from his kitchen stash. Alone with his memories.
The faint skidding of tires kicking up gravel roused him from twisting the silver chain around his neck in knots around his fingers. “Hnh.” Betsy lowered her window and waved as she pulled into the private parking in back. He craned his neck around and watched her step out, arming her alarm with a brief beep as the doors clicked shut. Logan eyed her appreciatively. The street lights shone down on her hair, making the flamboyantly colored waves glow. The faint winds picked up, lifting tendrils of it to whip across her lips. Her smile was relaxed but not bleary as she glided up to the steps.
“Good evening.”
“Evenin,’ Bets. Have a good time?”
“Eh. Not for lack of trying. You were as good as your word, Mac doesn’t water down the drinks. One Long Island iced tea was just enough.”
“Don’t know why I figured you for an apple martini kinda girl.”
“You did, huh?” Betsy nodded toward the space next to him on the step. He silently spread his arm toward it, welcoming her to sit. He fought the urge not to stare at her thighs as the casual little denim skirt with mock cargo pockets rode higher as she made herself at home. Logan mulled the scent of her perfume, agreeing with Yukio that she smelled expensive. “What else did you figure about me?”
“Nuthin’, ‘cept maybe wondering what brought you out this far. Pleasure trip?”
“It could be.” The hairs on Logan’s arm stood on end as Betsy reached out and plucked a piece of lint from the shoulder strap of his white cotton tank. The backs of her fingertips left a sizzling path in their wake as she skimmed them along his shoulder, down to his elbow. Slowly Logan ground out the stub of his cigar in the gravel and swiveled around to face her. The wind lifted her hair again, this time tickling him faintly; she was close enough for him to smell the Long Island iced tea on her breath. “I missed you tonight. I was hoping you would have taken me up on my invitation.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “You still could.”
“I could, huh?” She smiled, enjoying the rumble of his voice and appreciating the glint of masculine interest in his eyes. They were nice eyes, she thought. She inclined her head toward him that last fraction of an inch and steamed his lower lip with her breath. Logan wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and kissed her, sampling her softness. Her nightcap and the cigar he’d just finished mingled as the kiss deepened.
Logan sighed into her mouth as he made a snap decision, one that he decided not to regret in the morning, despite the tightening of his Levi’s around his vitals. He broke away, licking the taste of her from his lips. His fingers were steady as he tucked a stray tendril of Betsy’s hair behind her ear.
“G’night.” Her expression was more incredulous than hurt as he rose from the steps and strode back toward his apartment.
“I can’t tuck you in?” Her voice was slightly hopeful.
“I can manage.”
Early the next morning:
“Weird sky. Smells like rain.”
“Does rain even have a smell?” Jubilee asked, polishing off the last bite of a short stack and reaching for her glass of milk.
“Yup,” Yukio confirmed. “Can’t describe it, but once you smell it, you never forget it.”
“You can even taste it,” Logan agreed. He took another gulp of orange juice and watched Betsy’s black car peeling down the dirt road from the window of Mac’s café. They still had a little while before they had to get back to the pumps and open up shop. Jubes didn’t have to start knocking on doors until ten o’clock checkout, and Betsy’s bungalow had been the only empty that she could take care of sooner. Logan contemplated how it had felt to wake up to cold sheets on the other side of his bed. Lonely? Sure. Regretful? Nope.
Yukio played with the ice cubes in her water glass, swizzling them around with her finger. “I almost wish I could be out in it. I’m sick of being cooped up indoors. I feel like swatting some bugs with my face.”
“Ain’t safe ta ride the bike on slick roads, babe.” Logan dragged his last bite of scrambled egg through the puddle of ketchup on his plate. “Besides, ya ain’t wreckin’ my baby if someone runs ya off the road.”
“Spoil sport. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Ask Progressive. They ran off with it when I had her insured.” Logan got up to settle the bill.
Back at the store, Logan unloaded another case of Power Ade and began stocking the ice box. He heard giggling from the doorway and peered into the round security mirror over the sliding refrigerator door to glance at the new customers. He grunted low in his throat at the brief denim Daisy Dukes they both wore, with college T-shirts stretched snugly across their chests. They looked young; Logan guesstimated early to mid-twenties despite being dressed in clothes that Jubilee would describe as “da bomb.”
“Excuse me,” a pleasantly deep contralto prodded him as he set down the labeling gun, “do you carry diet Sobe here?”
“Sure do,” Logan replied, nodding to the icebox next to the one he wasn’t finished with yet. Woulda helped if they were actually looking back there instead of the front of the store, he guessed. The one in the teal green top smiled and headed back to grab the drinks while her companion perused the magazine rack, thumbing through a copy of Cosmopolitan. Logan returned her smile, enjoying the view. She was pretty in a fresh-faced way, with emerald green eyes and titian red hair that didn’t look like it came from a bottle. Her complexion was creamy and untanned despite the thin cloud cover and high elevation. Logan scanned her arms and legs for freckles and found none, but it was an excuse to keep looking at her.
“…beef jerky?”
“Huh?”
“I said, do you have any beef jerky?”
“Yup. Front counter, next to the Slim Jims.”
“Ooh. A Slim Jim sounds good, too,” her companion piped up. Logan strolled up to the counter to begin ringing up their order. “Twenty-five on pump six,” she added. Logan eyed her, noticing that she wasn’t any less striking than Red, but inwardly groaned at her chartreuse green hair. Where Betsy had admitted to tampering with Mother Nature, this girl’s hair and eyebrows matched perfectly, and Logan couldn’t see any dark roots.
“Slim Jims are full of grease,” Red grimaced, wrinkling her nose.
“Yeah, but they’re some good eatin,’ an’ I shore do got a hankerin’ fer one, ge-hyuk!!” Yukio came out from the back rolling a stack of milk crates out on a dolly cart and chuckled at the green-haired customer’s horrible yokel impression.
Logan rang everything up, putting the magazines into a separate bag from the drinks. Red uncapped hers and took a grateful gulp, sucking a droplet of Sobe from her lip. Logan regarded the unconscious action quietly, enjoying the hint of rosy color and plumpness it imparted to her mouth. “You two headed back home somewhere, or coming out ta stay?”
“Headed home before we start traveling again. She’s headed back to see her dad for a while before she begins a sabbatical,” clarified Lorna, the green-haired one clarified for him as she put away her debit card and ID. “I’m hopping on a plane in a week for an archeological dig in the Amazon. I’m a geology major, with a minor in multicultural history.”
“Hm. Neat.” Logan was impressed, and was almost disgusted with himself for letting the green hair throw him off. At least he was until she announced “Oooh. Gotta pee. Where’s the little girls’ room?”
“Back through those doors,” he smiled, turning away to turn on the small satellite radio-equipped boom box up on the shelf behind him. Wouldn’t hurt to check the weather…
Logan keyed in the weather station and turned the volume up slightly while Lorna went out to pump the gas. Red stepped out onto the porch and whipped out a cell phone. “Yeah, it’s me, Jean. We’re up here at a rest stop. The weather’s nice enough, the clouds look kinda weird, though. Pretty uneventful drive so far…” Logan continued to watch Jean pace across the porch for the sake of being able to peek at her assets, revealed to perfection by those tiny shorts. The radio announcer diverted his attention from the one-sided conversation he was eavesdropping on: “Area firefighters are working to contain a fire that broke out earlier this morning at a cabin situated in a local campsite…officials believe the blaze was started by an unattended barbecue grill on the deck…area fire department is optimistic that the pending rain showers will make the blaze easier to contain and put out. More details as they become available…”
“How far away was that?” Yukio called from the ice box after loading up the rest of the fresh milk and clearing out the ones that expired.
“Far enough away that we ain’t gotta worry ‘bout it yet,” he reassured her. From outside, Jean turned to peer back into the store, caught Logan’s eye, and smiled. Her posture and demeanor screamed “I’m available.” Logan thought better of it, applying the same logic to pursuing something with her to his decision regarding Betsy last night.
“Damned tourists,” Yukio grumbled.
“S’been a dry summer. Hope the surrounding brush doesn’t light up,” Logan reminded her. “Jubes’ll hafta finish those rooms a little quicker than she thought. I’m betting news of that fire’ll drive folks further down the mountain. We might end up with a full house tonight.”
In the neighboring town, at the campsite:
Ororo’s face was covered in a layer of soot and sweat as she guided her end of the hose, weaving the spray back and forth over the deck.
“Alex! What’s the status?” she barked out, nodding to the strapping blond as he adjusted his yellow protective coat and picked up the CB in the engine cab. He paused in reporting back to the firehouse a moment before replying “Already did a perimeter check. No pets. Car’s gone. The camp’s been evacuated already, and Scott already checked with the rental office to see who it was who booked this cabin, and he’s already filing an incident report for the insurance company. Whoever set the fire didn’t stick around to make sure the gas was turned off.”
“Good.” She turned her attention back to the blaze, hating the acrid stench of burning pine but glad to be outside dealing with the flames instead of chopping her way through drywall. At least the cabin wasn’t that big. “Damn tourists,” she muttered.
One evening a terrible storm came on; there was thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in torrents. Suddenly a knocking was heard at the city gate, and the old king went to open it.
****
Back at the rest stop, several hours later:
Logan watched the gathering clouds over the horizon, mingled with the haze of smoke working its way down the hill. That odor of scorched sap would settle over everything and take a couple of days to clear. He made a mental note to himself to change the air filter on the A/C in the apartment before turning in.
In the meantime, he had the full house that he’d predicted, after all. Every bungalow was rented with last-minute arrivals wanting to get more distance between themselves and the campsite, in case the rain didn’t dampen everything enough to prevent a second fire. At least it was out; Logan listened to the report as he changed out the old stock and chatted with Margaret Power that afternoon. She surprised him with a gift.
“Logan? Oh, good, there you are.” She breezed into the shop, peasant skirt swaying in the building breeze as she crossed the threshold. “It’s getting damp out there, just smell that ozone! I LOVE it, I hope it storms tonight!” She approached the counter, wearing her usual sunny smile, and surprised him with a flat package wrapped in brown postal paper. It was stamped with little rainbow-colored handprints in tempera paint, the kind used in classrooms. “I wanted to thank you for cutting that firewood for us last winter while Jim’s back was out, Logan, I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.”
“What’s this?” Logan straightened up from leaning against the wall and took the package from her. It wasn’t too heavy, even though it was fairly big, rectangular, and smelled…oily? Maybe a hint of turpentine? The wrapping had a few water spots on it from the shower building outside.
“Katie wanted so much to help me put it together, Logan, you know she adores you and worships the ground that you walk on. All day long it’s ‘when are we gonna see Mistew Wogan, Mommy?’ So she decorated it! How about that, huh?” There it was, that sappy motherly glow. Logan returned her smile, though, thinking of Katie and how much he’d wished he could have had a daughter like her, had things been different. She was a cute little crumb snatcher, he admitted to himself as he sliced open the ribbon tying the package together with a box cutter. He peeled aside the wrapping and stared in awe at the oil painting.
“I was in the mood to paint flowers this week. I hope you don’t mind, Logan…Mariko, well, she used to love to come visit and walk around with me in the garden. She loved my chrysanthemums every spring.”
“I know,” he rumbled, his thoughts drifting as he traced the gracefully rendered flower petals with one callused fingertip. “This is beautiful, Margaret. It’ll look nice in the living room, where folks can see it.” He reached out and warmly clasped her hands. Margaret didn’t miss the emotions welling up in his intense eyes and the faint tightness in his jaw. Sometimes, she was pretty nice for being a granola-nibbling tree hugger.
“Glad you like it, Logan. We were truly blessed when you came to this side of the mountain. Don’t you forget it, mister!” She patted his hand again and headed to the grocery racks. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, too, this syrup is fabulous! Normally I only buy organic foods, but the kids love it!”
“It’s local; it’s about as close to organic as you can get, darlin’. Ya might wanna try that blackberry jam, too. Comes from the same vendor.” Logan watched the rain from the front door. It was really beginning to come down.
“Great!” She added a jar of preserves to her order along with two jugs of the syrup. “You can imagine how four kids can eat!”
“Yeah,” he mused, “I can.”
‘Bye, Logan!” She swept outside, only to do an about-face a moment later. “Look, Logan, there’s one of the fire trucks pulling in! Now I wish I’d brought Jack and Katie with me, they would have loved this.”
“Better luck next time.”
“I’d better go move my car. Anyway, ‘bye!” She dashed off, peasant skirt flying as she made her way to her station wagon. Logan stepped out from behind the counter to watch the engine pull into the lot, taking up the fire lane and attracting onlookers from the bungalows to drift outside. Yukio came up behind him and leaned her elbow on his shoulder, no difficult feat since she towered over him. They watched them disembark from the cab and rails, jumping down to the pavement and shucking their safety helmets.
“Damn. I think I’m in love,” Yukio whistled. Logan nodded to the two tall, lean firemen crossing the lot, still clad in navy blue T-shirts and their yellow slacks and suspenders. Both were toned and broad-shouldered. One of them was a wholesome, cornfed blond; the other had chestnut brown hair and wore a pair of sunglasses with deep red lenses. Logan guessed they were protective goggles of some kind. “What, those two? Eh.” He shrugged. Jubilee would no doubt approve.
“Nope. They’re okay. I meant that tall drink of water behind ‘em.” Logan stepped aside as the two men came up the porch. The firefighter Yukio was staring intently at hadn’t swum into his line of vision yet.
It was a princess standing out there in front of the gate. But, good gracious! what a sight the rain and the wind had made her look. The water ran down from her hair and clothes; it ran down into the toes of her shoes and out again at the heels. And yet she said that she was a real princess.
“Evenin’; need help findin’ anything?” The blond shook his head.
“Nope, we’re good.” He called back to the woman bringing up the rear. “’Roro, they’ve got those frappaccinos you like so much!”
“Sweet,” she answered, reaching out to loosen her braid and dust pine needles out of her hair as she made her way up the steps. Her husky lilt caught Logan’s attention; he whipped his head around to see where that sexy, inviting voice came from.
“Holy…” he muttered as she reached the porch. Yukio elbowed him sharply as she moved toward the icebox holding the frappaccinos, scrambling ahead to get a better look at the statuesque vision in yellow gear and heavy boots.
“We’ve got regular coffee, too, I just made a fresh batch,” Yukio offered.
“Something cold sounds good right about now, I need something to wash the smoke from my mouth,” the vision before her groaned. “Some tourist family didn’t turn off their gas grill before they took off from the campsite. Whole patio was torched, along with one side of the kitchen and surrounding wall.”
“Anyone hurt?” Yukio inquired, helpfully holding open the ice box door. She nodded her thanks and reached for a frappaccino.
“Not this time,” she grimaced, shaking her head. She massaged the back of her neck with her free hand, wincing at a crick in her neck. Logan watched the whole exchange with interest, admiring the view from the back. She was easily one of the tallest women that he’d seen come through this neck of the woods, and definitely one of the best built. Logan guessed that she stood about six feet tall, or close to it, since she was eye-level with the guy in the red goggles, and they were wearing the same boots. “Wasn’t for lack of trying on their part, though. It’s been weeks since we’ve had any rain up here.” Her yellow gear was baggy, but it couldn’t disguise how curvy and ripe her backside was, or the long, tapering legs underneath.
“No kidding,” Yukio agreed. Boldly she reached out and plucked a pine needle from her braid. It only just struck Logan what else was so intriguing about this woman. Her hair, what he could see of it in the long plait that she’d loosened from her now-untidy bun, was a startling, pure white. Loose tendrils drifted down around her oval-shaped face, which she occasionally blew out of her eyes. As Yukio led her to the counter, Logan noticed that those were worth a second look, too. As they settled on him for the first time since she stepped into the store, Logan felt his stomach clench before dropping into his shoes. He was at a complete loss for when he could remember the last time he’d been affected that way. Her eyes were large, slanted, deep-set and spaced slightly far apart. The irises were a clear, cerulean blue. In contrast to her lush hair and skin, which was a relatively fair, mocha brown, her eyelashes were long and dark. She raised her snowy, arched brows in greeting. “Hi.”
“Hey, darlin’. That gonna be all?” Logan swallowed around a weird tightness in his throat. Up close, he could see that all three of them were soaked from the rain outside, which Logan assumed followed them down the hill. But it was hard to ignore the dark patches of dampness making her shirt cling to her curves. She set the frappaccino on the counter and grabbed a pack of wintergreen gum and packet of crackers.
“Rest room?” she asked.
“In the back,” he answered. She reached for her wallet. He shook his head. “On the house.” His hand stalled her from unsnapping the billfold, lightly covering her cool, slender fingers. Aside from a bit of grit leftover from her safety gloves, her hands were smooth and satiny, with short and surprisingly clean nails. “Ya already put out the blaze that wouldn’t have made us all hafta clear outta here if ya hadn’t finished sooner, and that gave us a full house on the rentals out back. Figure I owe ya some thanks.” Logan waved Scott and Alex over with their items, too.” Their eyes met over their hands, and a tingle ran up her arm as she looked him over.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she demurred, before dropping her eyes to his hand. It felt strong and warm. He cleared his throat and released her, reluctantly. Ororo bristled at the sudden flush of heat in her cheeks. Goddess, how old am I, 12?
‘Thanks, man,” Alex grinned, reaching out to shake his hand.
“It’s a pleasure.”
“What’d you guys say your names were again?” Yukio pried, conveniently ignoring that they hadn’t. Logan decided he was grateful that she saved him the trouble of fishing himself, particularly when she directed the question at the beauty tucking her wallet back into her pocket.
“Ororo. Ororo Munroe. This is Scott Summers, and his kid brother, Alex.”
“Call me Yukio,” she offered, shaking her hand. “Hoo. Nice grip,” she grinned, doing the honors for all three. Alex was staring at Yukio thoughtfully, drinking in her delicate features, spiky gamine haircut, and slender figure poured into a pair of faded jeans and snug black tank top, but she casually ignored him.
“I go by Logan.”
“Good to know,” Ororo nodded. She hadn’t stopped smiling yet. Scott unwrapped his Slim Jim and bit gratefully into it with a sigh.
“Geez, I’m starved. I could eat anything that’s not nailed down.”
“Then ya wanna head over to Mac’s down the road. Tell ‘im Logan sent ya. Can’t beat his ribeye.”
“Sounds good,” Alex confirmed, sipping his bottle of Power Ade.
“We’ve gotta get the rig back to the station house,” Scott reminded him. “You own this place, Logan?”
Logan nodded. “Yup. The whole spread, including the units out back. I close up this store earlier than most of the other stations in the area to discourage robbers from trying to get at the cash box in the wee hours.”
“That’s probably smart,” Alex agreed over his shoulder. “We gotta roll. Maybe we’ll stop back by later tonight? Mac’s?”
“Sounds like a plan. ‘Roro? Got any other plans?”
“Uh-uh. None. A boys’ night out actually sounds pretty fun,” she chuckled. Logan winked at her, smirking at the irony of her referring to herself as one of the “boys.” Underneath the durable, dirty protective gear, she was more feminine than anyone he’d ever met.
Ororo reached back to smooth her hair beneath Logan’s steady gaze, then wondered why. There was just something about him that made her look for something to do with her hand, and that made her keenly, painfully aware of how disheveled she looked. She’d forgotten her earlier plan to wash up in the rest room, then realized it was a lost cause. She needed a shower. Badly. Scott followed Alex out into the lot.
“Um, ‘bye.” She waved casually as she walked outside, nodding to Yukio, then letting her eyes linger on Logan, trying to memorize his face and compact, wiry form.
“Damn,” Yukio murmured.
“Yeah,” Logan concurred. What a woman.
“I liked her. A lot.”
“Couldn’t tell, you weren’t obvious or anything.” He reached out to ruffle her hair. Yukio rolled up the dishtowel that she was using to swab down the counter and let it snap, whipping him in the backside. He retaliated by lunging over and tickling her in the ribs. She hated that.
“HEY! Bastard!” she grinned. “C’mon, she was hot. And nice.”
“Don’t hafta convince me.”
“So why didn’t you ask for her number?”
“I don’t just ask any woman that comes into my store for her number, chickadee.” Guiltily, Logan remembered the scent of Betsy’s perfume overwhelming his senses during their brief kiss. Don’t keep ya from kissin’ ‘em goodnight, though, does it, bub? “She might think I’m some psychotic nut job, living out here in the sticks like in those cheesy slasher movies.”
“Or, God forbid, she might actually like you. I didn’t see her pulling away when you were refusing her money. Could have sworn she blushed.”
“Nah.” Logan reached into his cigar box. Had she blushed? Huh.
“You had that goofy look on your face, too. The male equivalent of the ‘cat that got the cream’ look.”
“How would you know?”
“Cause I’ve only seen that look on your face once the whole time I’ve known you. Right before you told me M’iko said ‘yes.’” Logan’s hand tightened on his lighter. Yukio saw the tension in the lines of his neck and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Sorry.”
“Eh.” Logan stepped out from behind the counter and walked outside. The rig was still there, but Logan heard the engine rumble to life, as well as a stray exchange of chatter. Sounded like the Summers boys ran into someone in the parking lot. Logan lit his cigar and craned his neck around the stoop. He felt nosy, like a flamin’ teenager. The tinkling laughter that he recognized earlier that morning as Jean’s drifted over to him as she flirted with Scott while he leaned out the window of the rig, beaming with interest. Lorna wasn’t exactly being shy around Alex, either, which suited him just fine. Logan turned back to his smoke, breathing in the scent of fresh rain and enjoying the pattering sound against the gravel. A minute or two later, the engine glided smoothly out of the lot. From the passenger side door, to his delight, Ororo leaned out the window and grinned at him, hoisting her coffee drink in a salute.” Logan’s answering smile nearly split his face. Yukio sidled up to him.
“Oh, yeah. You don’t like her, or anything.”
“Shut up,” he warned, still grinning.
Room to Spread Out by OriginalCeenote
Later:
Ororo sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed some Nivea cream into the balls of her feet, scrubbing the bits of exfoliated callus from them with a nubby towel as she did so. If there was one body part she couldn’t afford to be vain about, it was her feet. Didn’t hurt that she wore her boots all day, so it wasn’t like anyone got a close look at them, but after a live firefight that she walked away from, it felt good to pamper herself. She gave her feet one last rub before crossing over to the vanity mirror. She peered into it, making faces, then kneading her cheekbones, looking at the hollows beneath them. Would probably help if she ate a decent meal once in a while. Would probably also help if she could be bothered to do anything else in her kitchen besides reading the morning paper and balancing her checkbook. Ororo cracked open the medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of Clinique hypoallergenic moisturizer and the firming alpha hydroxy eye serum and went to work on her face. At least she wasn’t covered in muddy grime and soot anymore, and her hair didn’t smell like smoke anymore, thank goodness. She reached for the Visine eye drops and dribbled some in on each side, blinking rapidly to clear her vision.
“Ick. Hate that.” Nothing worse than the feeling of something creepy and wet in your eyes. Except rain. Ororo never had any problem with the rain. She could stand out in a downpour and just let it beat down, daring it to do its worst.
All right. What to wear?
“This is a boy’s night out,” she muttered, throwing open her closet and rifling through the hangers. Jeans? Maybe. Alex and Slim would be stomping in jeans, she had no doubt. At least she’d fit the bill.
But wouldn’t it be nice, for a change, not to fade into the wallpaper?
“Haven’t worn this in a while,” Ororo pondered, pulling out a spaghetti-strapped slip dress and holding it up against herself. She stepped in front of her full-length mirror and eyed herself, turning this way and that, mentally running through which shoes she could put with it. She stepped into it and zipped it up, running her hands over the rayon-acetate blend, examining how the periwinkle blue fabric’s sheen caught the light. The handkerchief hem swished to just below mid-thigh, and the dress flowed over her curves. Ororo bent over and removed the towel from her hair, tousling it dry and raking her fingers through the tangles. While assuming this position, she examined her feet again. Maybe her silver thongs? Why not?
From the kitchen, she heard a scuffling of feet across the tiles as thunder rolled overhead. She was greeted by a series of short yelps from her six month-old chocolate Labrador, Chuckles as he padded down the hall to her bedroom door and scratched against it, begging to be let in.
“Uh-uh. Don’t do that, puppy, I heard you a moment ago. Mustn’t scratch.” She was still trying to break him of that habit, with little success. Ororo opened the door and let him in, scolding him lightly when he leapt up onto her bed. “No, you stay here,” she corrected him, patting the futon sofa against the opposite wall. Chuckles danced on his hind legs, never jumping on his mistress (she’d managed to train him out of that habit, thankfully), wagging his tail before he settled down on the futon. Ororo scratched behind his ears and kissed the top of his head, then handed him his favorite chewy toy. Ororo smoothed some more Nivea onto her legs and stepped into her silver mule sandals with white and silver beaded butterfly appliqués over the toes before moving onto her hair. She had just clicked off the blow dryer and reached for her favorite silver barrette when the doorbell rang.
Ororo’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she hurried to answer the door. “I thought I was meeting you guys at Mac’s!” she accused, grinning up at Alex as Scott turned off the car out front. Chuckles leapt off the futon and trotted to the front door, inspecting the stranger’s scent. Alex laughed at the damp nose nudging his hand before bending to give the puppy a thorough rubdown.
“Figured we’d offer you a ride,” he offered by way of explanation. Scott made his way up the walk and whistled when he saw what she was wearing.
“Why, Miss Munroe, does your mother know you’re going out looking like that?” Scott leered, nodding with approval. “You clean up nice.”
“Took me a while,” she agreed good-naturedly. “Are we just headed to Mac’s?”
“Dunno. Depends on how it is when we get there.” Alex was cavalier about it. “We were kinda hoping to shoot some pool, have a few beers…”
“…and see if the ladies we met back at the parking lot show up there like they suggested,” Scott clarified. The light went on in Ororo’s eyes and she nodded shrewdly.
“Ah-haaaahhh. Right. That tells me what I needed to know, I’ll take my Jeep and follow you up.”
“You don’t have to…”
“…and how will you explain to your lady friends what I’m doing with you when it’s time to settle up the tab and say goodnight?” Alex had the sense to look sheepish; Scott chuckled.
“That’s what I thought,” she retorted. She peered over their shoulders at the rain. She could still hear the low rumble of thunder, right before a flash of lightning illuminated the rain-slicked street. “Whoa. Let me grab my jacket.” Chuckles followed his mistress to the hall closet, tail wagging as she retrieved a lightweight, cropped Levi’s jacket of faded denim that worked nicely with the dress.
Ororo led Chuckles back into her room and left the light on for him before shooing the Summers brothers out the door and locking up. They piled into Scott’s Ford Escort and waited for Ororo to settle into her Jeep and turn on the ignition. She waved at them before they pulled out of her driveway. Ororo was just about to shift the gear into reverse when a small paper fluttered down from the passenger-side sunshade. Ororo leaned over and retrieved it and turned it over. Oh. She straightened out the creases in the old three-by-five photo and tucked it back up in the sunshade flap, then backed out to follow Scott and Alex up the hill.
Well, we'll soon find that out, thought the old queen. But she said nothing, went into the bed-room, took all the bedding off the bedstead, and laid a pea on the bottom; then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on the pea, and then twenty eider-down beds on top of the mattresses.
****
Back at Mac’s:
Ororo smiled as she locked her Jeep and secured the cover, listening to the commotion drifting out into the parking lot from the crowded bar and grill. She dodged puddles, now questioning the logic of wearing her best pair of sandals out into a night like this, and rushed inside to avoid over-dampening her hair. She was grateful that she’d merely blown it out tonight and pulled it back, instead of straightening it with her ceramic flat iron. Nothing was worse than watching two hours worth of pressing her hair go down the drain when bad weather like this “sent it back on the boat.” The foyer was relatively empty, save for a pretty redhead talking on her cell phone. She looked back at Ororo as she wiped her feet on the skid-proof mat, raising her eyebrows. “Nice dress,” she remarked, then went back to her conversation.
“Thanks,” she replied, even though she wasn’t paying her any further attention. Ororo was greeted by a server stopping by the front desk, juggling a heavy tub of bused dishes.
“You waiting for a table?”
“Uh-uh. I’m actually meeting some friends? Two men, one blond, one dark?” The young man nodded, motioning with a quirk of his head toward the main bar on the right.
“That way.”
“Thank you.” She pivoted and strolled into the noisy bar, missing the glance that the busboy gave her long legs. The redhead snapped her mobile phone shut and tucked it back into her purse. Yeah, that was subtle, Jean thought.
“Ororo, over here!” Alex called out, lining up his pool cue and aiming for the striped seven ball.
“Already ordered you a wine cooler. Raspberry, right?”
“Bless you,” she grinned. “We got a table?”
“Lorna actually saved us a booth.”
“Lorna?”
“Yup. See the really hot one over there with the green hair?”
“GREEN?” Ororo spun around and saw a woman a few years younger than she was, in a snug black Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt and olive khaki capris, guarding what looked like a pitcher of beer and two pocketbooks on the table. She paused in unwrapping a piece of gum to grin and wave at them both. Ororo waved back, suddenly feeling like the fifth wheel. She wasn’t relieved of that impression when the stunning redhead from the lobby joined her a moment later. Scott came over and handed her the wine cooler.
“Can I play winner?” she asked, unscrewing the cap of her Bartles and Jaymes and taking a thirsty sip. Whoo. That was good, but she needed to eat something to keep it from going straight to her head.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Scott quirked his eyebrow. “Alex and I’re waiting on some wings that should be up in a minute.”
“I’ll order something eventually,” she murmured. “Why don’t I go say hi, I’ll be back in a few.” Ororo sighed and turned back to the booth. “Hi. I’m Ororo. I work with Scott and Alex.”
“At the station? You’re a firefighter?” Lorna cracked her gum. “That is SO cool. Did you help with that fire at the campsite today?”
“Mm-hmm. I was there. Mind if I sit down.”
“Squeeze a cheek,” Jean chirped as Ororo sat on the bench across from them and shrugged out of her jacket. “Have you always lived here?”
“Actually, I moved out here just this year. I live down in the valley, by myself. With my dog,” she laughed.
“Single?” Jean pushed the bowl of corn chips closer to Ororo. She took some, nibbling the corner of one thoughtfully before shaking her head.
“Actually, I’m widowed, so I guess that applies.”
“Shit. I’m SO sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll never stop missing him, but it’s a little easier, now that I’m working again, and I have a decent place to stay. And my puppy, he helps too. Gives me someone to love who isn’t too demanding.” Lorna smiled in sympathy. Ororo munched on a few more chips, careful not to make a meal of them as she waited for the server to come back their way. When he finally did, she asked for the half-order of hot wings with the house’s special sweet barbecue sauce. She went back to Alex and Scott to see if they’d finished their game yet, but they apologized, already halfway through another game. Men, she huffed. Ororo sidestepped the crowded bar and made her way to the shuffleboard table instead, which was unoccupied. She rubbed the small red disk in the layer of salt and skimmed it expertly down the lane, stopping just short of the white line.
“Not bad,” rumbled a deep, familiar voice over her shoulder. Startled, Ororo found herself staring into Logan’s hazel eyes, which crinkled at the corners as he smiled. She dropped her eyes back to the disks in the slot, selecting another as she considered her response.
“Hi.” She smiled back at him through her eyelashes, feeling totally foolish for the second time in the past eight hours. “I was wondering if you’d show.”
“Makes two of us. I had to close everything up. I dropped my goddaughter off at Yukio’s for a movie night that she promised her.” He reached across her for the blue disks, brushing the tops of her hands with his forearm. His skin felt hot. Ororo shivered.
Logan couldn’t believe his luck.
She was here, at his recommendation. She was in street clothes, nice ones, that confirmed his earlier suspicions: She was a total knockout, the whole package. And she smelled like a million bucks. Logan caught a whiff of Ororo’s light perfume, mingled with the scent of her shampoo, and maybe even her hair itself. He wouldn’t put it past her to smell that inviting all on her own.
“How old is she? You’re goddaughter, I mean?” Duh. As if she’d ask him how old Yukio was…She watched Logan take his shot. His disk skidded to a stop mere inches behind hers.
“Fifteen. She’s too young to help me run the shop, but she does bang-up job helping out with housekeeping. She cleans the units after school sometimes, and all the time during her summer break. She keeps all of her tips.”
“That’s good experience. At least she’ll know how to make her way one day.” Before she could find anything else to day “ which was growing increasingly difficult, with him standing so close and occupying the cozy little space, distracting her with his warmth “ Scott interrupted the moment by calling out to her, “Ororo! Your food’s here!”
“Haven’t ya eaten yet, darlin’?” Ororo waved to Scott to acknowledge she’d heard him, then returned Logan’s gaze. “Ya’ve gotta be starvin’ by now. Want me ta let ya eat something? We can pick this back up later,” he suggested, loathe to let her leave.
“Actually…” she hedged, suddenly realizing why she felt so warm, even in her bare little dress. Her arm had pressed up against his while they leaned over the shuffleboard table, treating her to the scent of Tide from his red flannel shirt. Their fingers bumped as she steadied herself. “…hold that thought, Logan. And hold that table, while you’re at it,” she nodded to the smaller table a couple of feet away. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here.” Ororo felt his eyes on her as she made her way back to the booth.
“Didn’t even see you leave, ‘Roro,” Alex admitted guiltily.
“Thought you got tired of our company,” Scott added.
“Not at all. But I am giving you a little more room to spread out. I’ll be over there,” she said nodding back to the shuffleboard table. Logan caught their eye and saluted them with his bottle of beer.
“Aw, you don’t have to leave,” Lorna implored, even as she snuggled closer to Alex, looking very comfortable where she was perched.
“Stay,” Jean offered, even as she laced her fingers through Scott’s, the two of them making a half-hearted attempt at scooting over.
“I’m good. Let me just move this…thanks, let me get that, too,” she nodded to Alex, accepting her jacket. “See you in a little bit.” Her steps quickened as she carried her basket of wings and sauce back to where Logan was waiting for her. He’d thoughtfully brought her wine cooler with him, setting it next to his bottle of Molson. He was dragging his fingertip through the moisture dripping off the label as she approached.
“I didn’t think ya could look any better than ya did a moment ago when I saw ya standing there, playing in that sweet little dress ya have on. But ya proved me wrong; ya look even better when yer walkin’ over here ta join me. ‘Specially since ya let me get a closer look.” Ororo felt herself blush all the way up to her hairline, and instantly regretted ordering the hot wings, as she pondered how to eat them gracefully with her fingers. She picked up one of the little drummettes and dug her fingers into the succulent meat, pulling a morsel loose from the bone and tucking it into her mouth. “Mac makes a mean wing.”
“Mmmmmm,” she agreed, licking her fingers as delicately as she could before reaching for the napkin dispenser. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I tried one. C’mon, let’s play again,” she suggested.
“Slow down, darlin’, go ahead and feed yerself. Ya’ve had a long day. Don’t want ya keelin’ over on me.”
“Don’t feel like scraping me up off the floor?” she teased.
“Nope, I wouldn’t mind that. I’d probably even enjoy that. I just want ya ta have a little energy left ta dance with me at some point. You pick the song; the band’ll be here for a while.”
He hadn’t struck her as the dancing type. “Oh. Okay.” She dipped another wing into the sweet barbecue and wrapped her lips around it to catch it before it could dribble into her dress. Still not a graceful task. Ororo gave into the temptation and licked her fingers clean. Logan’s breath caught in this throat as he watched her, taking a pensive sip of beer. He’d have given anything to reach out and capture her hand in his, and drag her thumb between his lips to sample that sauce from her skin. He liked watching her lips as she nibbled the wings and sucked the sauce from her fingers. Logan silently agreed with whatever genius that originally coined the phrase “food is a sensual experience.”
“Have you always lived here?” Great she thought, ruin a pleasant silence with small talk and bore him to death, Ororo.
“I’ve kinda lived everywhere, but I’m originally from around here. I love the mountains,” he explained.
“You already know what I do for a living,” she encouraged, fishing for more chances to draw him out. He chuckled. She liked his laugh. And she liked his mouth when he smiled. His jaw was square and firm, covered with a fine layer of five o’clock shadow. His teeth were straight and even. His thick, dark hair waved back from a forehead that was high and broad, and he had a slight widow’s peak. His sideburns were longer than current style dictated, but they framed his high cheekbones and gave his face character. His well-shaped, slightly bushy brows lifted and he eagerly took the bait.
“I own the store, rent the bungalows, and work as a handyman every now and a again. I’m at that point in my life where I’d rather work for myself more than anyone else.”
“Makes sense. What did you used to do?” Ororo was mildly surprised when he dropped his easy smile and took a pull from his beer.
“Military, for a while. I’ve kinda been stationed everywhere. My last tour of duty was about three years ago.” Belatedly Ororo peered at his neck, spying the dog tags dangling just below his collar. She reached out, glancing at him to make sure it was okay, and touched them when he nodded his assent. She turned them over this way and that in the dim light of the bar. They were slightly warm from resting against his skin.
“Got sick of it?”
“Eh. Was never really meant for it. Not really.” She released the tags, laying them back against their resting place. She didn’t expect him to capture her hand and lay it flat against his chest, covering the tags and letting her feel his heartbeat. She could have sworn it skipped, just like hers. “How ‘bout you, darlin’, ya seem like yer happy where ya are, doing what ya do. Are ya?” He stroked her hand with the edge of his thumb. The gesture felt natural and sent a tiny thrill of electricity through her stomach.
“As much as I can be, I guess.” Her tone was cryptic, and something in her expression told him that she wasn’t ready to elaborate much yet. She validated his assumption as she stood and gently freed her hand, skimming his collarbone with her fingertips. “Let’s play.” He followed her, bringing their drinks. He motioned to the bartender about an hour later, after Ororo mopped the floor with him four games in a row.
“You already bought me a drink,” she mock-complained, taking the wine cooler from him after he uncapped it for her.
“Musta slipped my mind, I only remember buying you this one.”
“Frappaccino. On the house, remember?” She sipped it, enjoying the warm, fizzy tingles running over her skin. Somehow, over the course of the night, after repeatedly reaching over each other for the disks and salt, bumping into each other, and finding themselves jostled by the crowd as the bar continued to fill, Ororo found herself ensconced in the heat of Logan’s body, his chest pressing into her back. It felt instinctive as he covered her hand with his as she took her next shot, moving in tandem to send the disk hurtling down the plank. He smelled good.
She felt soft.
And neither of them had a clue where to take things next.
The decision became a little easier as the band, a four-man blues combo, struck up a soulful cover of Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven.”
“Logan?” Ororo reached for his hand, wrapping it in hers. “Know how you promised me I could pick a song?”
“I always keep my promises,” he assured her, leading her out to the dance floor. He nudged and shouldered past the other couples, finding themselves a spot in the middle where they could hear each other talk and remain uninterrupted.
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.
Logan’s hand crept up to Ororo’s narrow waist, becoming familiar with the slick, smooth fabric of her dress and the pliant flesh beneath it. Ororo’s hands slid up his arms and draped themselves loosely over his shoulders. Logan asked the question that had been nagging him all day.
“How tall are ya, exactly?” Ororo threw back her head and laughed.
“Tall enough that I get that question a lot,” she sighed, smiling. Her fingers played with his collar, smoothing it.
Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven?
I'll find my way
Through night and day,
'Cause I know I just can't stay
Here in heaven.
“Do ya live with anyone?”
“I have a puppy. Do you like animals at all?”
“I like ‘em well enough. ‘Specially dogs, but I never had one.”
“You’ve been missing out.”
“Got enough ta occupy me living with a teenager.”
“I bet. Having a puppy’s not too much different from having a baby, though. No less messy,” she grinned. His hands splayed over the breadth of her back, caressing her, catching tendrils of her silky hair. “She sounds like a great kid.”
“She is. I’m supposed ta be the grown-up, but I’m more or less her pigeon,” he admitted fondly. Ororo contemplated his widow’s peak.
“Hmmm.”
“What?”
“I like this cute little thing that your hair does. Right here,” she murmured. “It suits you.”
“Thanks!” His smile was wry but appreciative. Logan knew somewhere in the back of his mind that they must have made quite a sight, almost like Mutt and Jeff, but he didn’t give a damn. Neither did she, if the way she snuggled closer to him and rubbed her jaw against the crown of cheekbone was an indication. He heard her sigh as she breathed in the scent of his hair.
Time can bring you down,
Time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart,
Have you begging please, begging please.
Beyond the door,
There's peace I'm sure,
And I know there'll be no more
Tears in heaven.
SHRAKA-BOOOMMMM! BZZZZZT!
The music abruptly cut off as the room went completely dark. “Damn!” Ororo heard the lead singer swear as someone in the back admonished everyone not to move. Logan appreciated a good opportunity when he was handed one. His hands were still on Ororo’s waist as they were plunged into darkness, but allowed one to roam up her spine, tangling into her hair, searching out her face. He skimmed the backs of his knuckles over the faint outline of her cheek, then cupped the back of her neck, encouraging her to lower her face toward his. She accepted the silent invitation, and her breath steamed his lips as she found him. Heat rushed into every pore of her body as he claimed her mouth with his, forcing a ragged, desperate sound from him, savoring it. Her arms tightened around his neck as her fingers plowed through the back of his hair, teasing the ones on his neck that now stood on end. A different dance took place on this crowded floor of this tiny little bar and grill in the middle of nowhere, one where only two people could hear the song singing through their blood and be moved by its rhythm. Logan pressed closer, unable to get enough, craving the taste of her as her mouth slanted over his. Her body was flush against his, every contour fitting together like puzzle pieces. Her firm, soft breasts mashed against his solid chest, while her pelvis nestled the straining bulge of his manhood, making his Levi’s unbearably snug.
All that from one kiss…Ororo was floored. They came up for air, and Ororo almost didn’t want the lights to come back on.
“Damn,” Logan muttered, licking his lips, catching the last minute taste of her. Her hands sought his face, stroking his cheek, exploring the raspy texture of his stubble. He caught her wrist and kissed the pulse. Her body reflexively arched against him.
What in heaven’s name are you doing, Ororo? How can you let this happen? Her body argued back that it knew perfectly well how she could let it happen, but her mind, and the raw, aching memories screamed that this was wrong. A sacrilege. A shameful betrayal. And that she had to get out, run fast and far away.
“Logan, I-I can’t…do this.” She broke free from his grasp, feeling the rush of cool air hit her heated skin as she stumbled through the crowd, making her apologies as she trod upon a few toes.
“Ororo?” His voice was low and dripping with disbelief. “What the flamin’…?”
With a sudden thunk, the power came back on, overhead lights flickering and washing the dance floor in its previous yellow glow. Logan wasn’t listening as the band turned off the amp, which emitted a loud squeal of feedback before they adjusted it. They launched back into the sultry song as Logan made his way off the floor.
He caught a swish of blue and the backs of her silver heels as she hurried out through the foyer.
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.
“Whoa, Logan, where’s Ororo?” Logan felt Scott’s firm, insistent grip on his shoulder. Logan was only focused on not wanting to let her out of his sight.
“Outside. She’s leavin’, and she didn’t stop ta tell me why.” Scott didn’t let go. “Look,” he grated out, facing the taller man, staring deep into what he could see of his eyes through those crazy glasses, “I didn’t get fresh, I didn’t insult her. That’s not ta say I didn’t kiss her, don’t me wrong, but she didn’t object,” he reasoned. His brows drew together as he wondered why he was wasting his time explaining himself. He was rewarded with the loosening of Scott’s grip. “I don’t feel like I misread her signals, bub.”
“Go after her. The weather’s shitty. No sense in letting her hare off in the rain. She drove up in the silver Jeep parked out back.” Scott hesitated a second, then called after him. “Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“I saw her earlier tonight, while you guys were hanging out. For what it’s worth, I think she liked you.” Logan nodded and hurled himself out into the downpour.
His weathered boots sloshed through the puddles. He fretted as he remembered the dainty little sandals she’d had on, knowing damn well they probably got ruined on the way back to her car. Logan scanned the parking lot, then instinctively cut to the left when he heard the faint sounds of an engine that wouldn’t turn over. The street lamps illuminated a silver Jeep, probably old enough for its owner to have finished the payments.
And to need a new alternator. Logan wanted to shout his relief to the sky. He approached the car, picking out the silhouette of her luxurious mane of hair and watching her smack the flat of her hand against the steering wheel. When he got close enough, he could hear her cursing through the window. He braced himself and exhaled, then rapped lightly on the window. She looked up at him through troubled eyes. Go away, she mouthed at him.
“No,” he barked aloud, “I won’t. Open up.” He saw her shoulders sink in defeat before she opened the door, barely missing Logan as he backed away to give her room.
“Ya coulda rolled down the window.”
“No I couldn’t. The windows are automatic. Not originally my choice, back when we bought this car.” Logan didn’t miss the “we.” That just spawned a whole flock of questions that he shoved down for now.
“Ororo, did I move too fast? I didn’t mean…”
“No. Yes. God, I don’t know!” That didn’t help him much. He stood there helplessly, running his hand through the hair at his nape out of habit, watching as she leaned back against the Jeep, not caring that the back of her fragile dress would be soaked when she moved away. The water was already beading up in her hair and on her skin. She rubbed her temples and closed those compelling blue eyes. “I don’t know. You weren’t moving too fast, Logan, but maybe…maybe I was. I feel so damned stupid!” she railed, fling her hands open and fisting them shut again, before she hugged her arms around her ribcage. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“You…lost someone? A break-up?” The raindrops slapped the pavement and deepened the wide puddles, making them spread together. Logan knew she had to be freezing, but she didn’t flinch. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d gone numb.
“I wish,” she groaned. Then he thought he heard a hitching breath escape her chest as she scrubbed the back of her hand across the tip of her nose, which the raindrops were dribbling off of with increasing pace. “That would have been a walk in the park.” She met his eyes. “I could have dealt with it if it were just a break-up. Logan, my husband died. I don’t expect you to know how that feels…” She stopped talking when Logan grasped her hand and placed the fingertips of his free hand over her lips to silence her.
“Maybe I know exactly how that feels.” He removed his fingers and reached up to smooth a damp lock of Ororo’s hair from her eyes. “And it’s been too long since I’ve had someone whose ear I could bend who could relate. If I didn’t already ruin yer night?” She opened her mouth, then closed it, thinking better of trying to find anything coherent to say. She shook her head, still slightly shocked.
“Wanna come back inside? Scott and Alex were a little worried about ya.” Before she could respond, both of them looked up, temporarily stunned by the screeching sound of tires rounding the corner of the lot too quickly. Big tires. The enormous pickup truck plowed through the puddles on monster wheels, heedless of the couple that they were nearly bearing down on as they tore through the back lot. The wheels made a rushing sound as it disrupted the nearby, lake-sized puddle; a wave of water arched up, making a “shussing” sound as it drenched Ororo and Logan from head to toe. The freezing water dashed the tentative calm between them to bits. Ororo wanted to kick herself for sounding like such a girl as she shrieked in outrage.
“Holy - ! Oh, God, Ororo, look at ya. Geez, yer soaked.”
“Yeah. I noticed that,” she grimaced, holding her arms away from herself as though she didn’t want to touch the sodden mess of her dress. Logan felt a bit differently, seeing her curves shrink-wrapped in the now clinging satin, her nipples standing out stiffly and in stark relief. “I don’t mind the rain so much, but…yuck,” she grumbled. “I don’t know where those puddles have been.”
“Guess this means ya don’t wanna go back inside?” He fought a smile.
“S’not funny,” she insisted.
“I know it ain’t, darlin’,” he agreed. That smile kept winking in and out of the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” she snarled, trying her level best to glare at him. She failed miserably. Finally he joined her as she dissolved into giggles, that graduated into full-bodied guffaws.
Logan wiped his eyes, then shook his head, reminding Ororo of Chuckles as he released excess puddle muck from his hair. “Can I offer ya a suggestion?”
“Be my guest.”
“Why don’t you be my guest? My truck’s over there. Let’s head back to the shop.”
“What, to stay in one of your bungalows out back?”
“Uh-uh. To come up to my place and dry off. If ya wanna head back down the hill with yer boys, that’s fine, darlin,’ but I don’t wanna leave ya here for as long as it takes ‘em to say their goodnights to present company,” he reminded her. Ororo thought back to the two cozy couples that the four of them made back at the booth. She hated to break that up. “Units are all rented, otherwise I’d rent ya one fer free. I got a perfectly good couch, or ya can stay in Jubilee’s room.”
“Right, right. She’s with Yukio.” She stared at her feet, which were soaking in a chilly puddle. She pictured her bare toes turning into prunes. She looked back up at him and surprised him when she looped her arm through his. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
If there had been anything lascivious in his offer, even the faintest hint of a leer, well, maybe she would have waited it out or tried the engine of her Jeep again. Or, her body traitorously suggested, maybe she wouldn’t have.
She remembered something. “Hold it.” She dragged him with her to the passenger side door and opened it, pulling out her denim jacket. As she reached for it, the photo that she had been staring at so intently when she left her house picked that moment to fall down again. Resolutely she tucked it into her jacket pocket and shut the car door. Logan looked quizzically as she took his arm again but said nothing.
Logan’s truck was old but big, with a slightly dented front fender and a few dings in the paint, but the upholstery was in good condition. Ororo detected a faint hint of cigar smoke embedded in the comfortable cushions, not unlike the faint hint of tobacco that she’d smelled on him back at the store. It wasn’t unpleasant. The pair brought the damp, fresh scent of rain into the truck with them as Logan reached up to click on the overhead light. “Ya okay, darlin’? Cold?” She shook her head.
“Wet,” she tsked. She kicked off her clammy sandals and sighed. The thorough immersion in the puddles soaked the uppers half off the soles; she could kiss those goodbye. Ororo attempted to smooth her skirt, but it was no use. She settled for stretching her legs, enjoying the fuzzy feel of the floor mats under her toes. Logan pulled out of the lot, pausing at the exit as he put his blinker on. He turned neatly, joining the stream of headlights as they headed up the road. Lightning crackled overhead; the flash of light lined her profile in silver, drawing Logan’s gaze. He ached to touch her. Even frazzled and dripping, she was beautiful. He kept his hands on the wheel and brought his eyes back to the road. “Not much longer,” he promised.
Ten minutes later they pulled into the lot. Logan steered the truck to his private spot in back and put it in park. He cleared his throat. “My place isn’t much…”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” she murmured. “No need to get fancy for me. I’m not exactly standing on ceremony now, am I?” Her smile reached her eyes, and Logan felt hopeful that the night, not by any means perfect, was definitely salvageable. He got out of the truck first, then circled around to help her out. She carried her sandals in her hand, dangling them by the thongs. Logan tsked in dismay.
“Sorry bout yer shoes.”
“Not your fault.”
“They looked good on you.” Logan had no complaints about her long, slender feet and bare legs, though, as he reached out to take her hand. He was relieved when she didn’t pull away. “It’s upstairs.”
“I was curious about who lived there earlier today,” she admitted.
“We call it home.” Logan’s keys jingled as he fiddled with the ring, locating the electric blue one and inserting it into the knob. He swung the door open and reached in to flick on the light before making a sweeping motion of his arm. “C’mon in.”
Ororo made a sound of approval. “This is nice, Logan.” She ran her fingertips over the Corian countertops as her bare, damp feet squeaked against the clean linoleum of the kitchenette.
“Make yerself at home.”
“I don’t want to get anything wet,” she reminded him.
“Don’t sweat it. Have a seat.” He pulled out an armless, pine kitchen chair and beckoned to her to sit. “I’m gonna get ya something ta wear. You prefer anything in particular? Sweats? Shorts?”
Ororo swallowed around a lump that appeared out of nowhere. “Do you have another flannel shirt like the one you have on? Or something else with sleeves?”
“Sure,” he shrugged. He was dying to get out of the one he had on. Then it dawned on him.
“Ororo, I feel like an idiot. Ya need a shower. The bathroom’s that way.” At her look of uncertainty, he said “I’ll get you the shirt and a towel, and whatever else you think you need ta get comfortable. I can take one after ya finish up.” The tension left her shoulders, even though something inside her screamed that separate showers were a perfectly good waste of water…
“I appreciate this, Logan.” She laid her jacket on the table and unfastened the silver and turquoise barrette from her hair, ruffling the mass loose with her fingers and kneading her scalp.
“No problem.” He didn’t add “Any time,” since it felt unlikely. Didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it. He headed down the hall to retrieve some towels from the linen closet, selecting the fluffiest one he could find from the slightly threadbare offerings, and he rummaged for a washcloth. He flicked on the light in his room and silently gave thanks that he’d thought to make the bed, even if he didn’t end up sharing it tonight. The hamper wasn’t full to overflowing, either; he’d already done enough laundry to expect a clean shirt or two to already be in the drawer. He dug inside the bureau and pulled out a light blue chamois button-down that reminded him of her eyes. As an afterthought, he added a pair of his old boxer shorts. They were lounging shorts that reached a few inches above his knees, but on her, who knew? He added a pair of thick white socks to the pile and turned out the light on his way back.
Logan found her standing by the refrigerator, smiling at the array of magnets and stickers on the freezer door. Without looking at him, she pointed to a magnetic picture frame. “Is this your goddaughter?”
“Yup. That’s last year’s school photo.”
“I have the funny feeling that she’s spunky, looking at this picture. Spunky, and then some.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“I think I’d like her.”
“I know she’d like you.” He plopped the clothes onto the table. She turned to study the offerings.
“These look fine.” The shirt looked and felt invitingly soft. She picked it up and on impulse, held it up to her nose. Logan stared as she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent. She rubbed it against her cheek, making Logan envy the garment.
“Does it meet yer expectations?”
“Mmmmmm. You’ve mastered laundry.”
“Acquired skill. Might wanna take yer shower.” Ororo saw the bit of tension return to his jaw and wondered what he was thinking that threw up that wall. He began emptying the dishrack to busy his hands.
“Back in a flash.” She scooped up the clothes and made her way down the hall. She flipped the wall switch and instantly chuckled at the surprisingly girly bathroom. Bubble gum pink shag rugs matched the plastic shower curtain rings, tissue box holder, and toothbrush jar on the counter. The shower curtain itself was clear and covered with pink and red hearts, with a red plastic magnetized liner. The wastebasket was white and covered with more of the same red hearts. Two toothbrushes stood up in the jar, one plain blue Reach brush with a compact head and firm bristles, and one yellow one with a Spongebob Squarepants handle. No confusing whose was whose.
Ororo turned on the shower and gratefully shucked her dress, laying it in a sodden heap on the counter. Even her underwear was soaked; she didn’t know how she would get around that. She peeled off her damp panties and underwire bra, thankful that they didn’t appear stained. The dress would need dry cleaning; if she hung it to dry, it might at least hold its shape. Ororo stepped into the steaming tub and leaned her hands against the cool tile wall, dunking her hair under the spray. She didn’t use as much of the shampoo as she was tempted to, not wanting to abuse their supply. She had so much hair.
Logan seemed to like her hair. Jonathan always had. Ororo pushed aside a brief flash of how it felt to cuddle against Jonathan’s lean, firm brown chest as he raked his fingers through it. Those were happier days. Before everything went to thoroughly, spectacularly wrong.
Ororo allowed the shampoo foam to sluice down her body and watched it spiral down the drain. She bent down to free the grit from between her toes, wishing she had some of her lotion to rub into them. At least he’d given her socks, bless him.
Reluctantly she turned off the spray, saving him more than enough hot water. She reached for the towel and dried off her hair and body as well as she could before stepping onto the rug, not wanting to soak it. She hated wet bath rugs squelching under her feet…
Once she was decent, she strolled back to the kitchen, where she was greeted with a familiar, delectable smell. Logan was standing by the range, stirring something in a small saucepan. She eyed the large Captain Morgan bottle and butter cubes on the counter.
“Whatcha makin’?” she demurred.
“Something a buddy showed me how to make in the service. Hot buttered rum.”
“That’s my favorite!”
“I make mine with brown sugar,” he warned.
“Please tell me you have clove powder, too,” she begged. She crossed the kitchenette to peer into the cupboards. “Mugs?” Logan pointed to the cup rack on the opposite counter before reaching for the spice rack, pulling out the container of whole cloves, tossing two of them into the concoction in the pan. He let it simmer and searched through the cabinets for a packet of vanilla sandwich cookies. Ororo peeled open a butter cube and fetched a knife from the drawer. Logan poured the mugs as equally as he could and let Ororo top each with a pat of butter. He spooned some brown sugar into each and put the open packet of cookies between them on the table as they sat down to enjoy their drinks.
“You’re still wet,” she observed. At least he had the chance to take his boots off. He had wide feet, which bumped hers underneath the narrow table.
“I won’t melt.” The rum was mellow but burned a tingling path down his throat, filling his gut with a delicious heat. Ororo’s eyes were drowsy but content over the rim of her cup. “I can make up Jubilee’s bed, if yer tired. Ya look beat.”
“Thanks,” she groaned, then smothered a yawn. Shoot, she was beat. “I can take the couch, so she doesn’t wonder who’s been sleeping in her bed.” She stared into her cup as she asked him, “Logan? How long…how long were you married?” He paused mid-sip and set his cup down, instead fiddling with a cookie. He unscrewed the top wafer and bit into the iced side before replying
“Five years. Anniversary woulda been this fall.” He nudged the cookies closer to her. “You?” She took a cookie and popped off the top like he had, but instead licked off the filling. He watched her tongue lave the cookie and his gut clenched.
“Wow. My own marriage lasted seven years, but we were separated for a while. We tried to work things out, but there were some issues.” That was putting it lightly. “Jonathan was a firefighter, too. That’s how we met.” She reached for her jacket pocket and withdrew the photo he noticed her rescuing earlier. She handed it to him and sipped her toddy.
Logan studied the photo. “Where was this taken, a powwow?” he inquired.
“Uh-huh. That’s one of the only shots I have of him in full regalia.” Logan grunted as he continued examining the man whose memory sent her running out of Mac’s like a bat out of hell. So he assumed. Ororo’s husband had been perhaps an inch taller than her and lean, with wiry strength in his upper arms and broad shoulders. His smile was easygoing, and he had a neatly trimmed mustache. His black hair was clubbed back from his face in a pony tail, and he wore buckskin leather leggings tied at the waist with a beaded belt. A choker of bone tubes and turquoise and flint beads circled his neck. Ororo stood beside him with her arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She looked young and radiant in the photo, and very much like a woman in love. “That was back when we still lived in Dallas.” He handed it back to her, and she tucked it safely into her pocket.
“Thanks for sharing.” He reluctantly left the table. “Let me get ya some blankets.”
Stay. She fought against the urge to call him back. She hadn’t even realized that his feet were still rubbing up against hers until they were gone, taking that soothing contact away with him.
Just leave her alone. Don’t make an ass of yerself. Logan rummaged through the linen closet again and pulled out a flat sheet, blanket and thick comforter. He retrieved a pillow from his own bed and brought it out, laying it on the couch.
“G’night.” Logan set his empty cup in the sink, knowing if he stayed any longer he’d have to tuck her in, maybe even carry her back to his own bed. He couldn’t afford to fuck things up. It meant too much to him to still find her there in the morning and not make any excuses, or have any regrets.
“Good night.” She watched his retreating back, enjoying the way he moved, his straight posture and the way his jeans, still damp, hugged his muscular legs and firm ass. She was itching to follow him, to strip him out of those wet clothes and warm him up, starting with his lips and working her way down…No, Ororo. She sighed and finished the last gulp of rum, wincing at the bite as it burned its way down.
Ororo got up and made up the couch, pulling the sheet tightly enough over the cushions to bounce a quarter, then fluffed the pillow. She turned out the lights, and despite being exhausted, she lay awake with her thoughts. She listened to the comforting hiss of the shower down the hall. It’s not too late to join him.
I shoved him away. That’s sending a mixed message.
Bull.
Well, it is.
You’d be correcting an oversight. Righting a wrong. Undoing an injustice.
It’s too soon. Jonathan…
He’s gone. He’s not coming back. You can’t bring him back. He’d want you to move on.
I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. I was weak. Still am weak.
He was the one who shut you out and pushed you away. Don’t forget that.
Instead, Ororo remembered. She shifted herself, flipping over to make herself more comfortable.
Coffees at Starbucks. The night her roomie, Anna Marie, introduced them at their favorite seedy bar on dollar shot night. The way he smelled when he asked her to dance. The tickle of his mustache against that sensitive spot behind her ear.
Ororo tried to lie on her stomach. Minutes ticked by loudly on the stovetop clock.
Their early days at the firehouse as rookies. Their first call to put out that stove fire in that brownstone downtown. That rice dish that he knew she liked so much. How his lips felt against her temple when he kissed her awake in the wee hours of the night.
The couch springs creaked as she continued her futile struggle to get comfortable.
Logan lay awake in the dark. He became keenly aware of his bedroom door being slightly ajar, but he was afraid his feet would carry him back out to the living room if he got up to shut it. He rolled toward the empty space in his bed, devoid of the second pillow. He wondered what it would be like to smell the scent of her hair on the pillowcases, or to bump against her sleep-warmed skin in the middle of the night.
Mariko used to steal the covers. She was always chilled. She couldn’t sleep without thrusting her bottom against him and pulling the covers up to her chin.
Something was lumpy. She was sure of it. The cushions were slightly worn, but felt springy enough when she first laid down. Okay, maybe not. Ororo turned onto her back again and stroked the nubby texture of the sofa, wishing for the friction of Logan’s denim-clad leg rubbing against her thigh as it had at the shuffleboard table.
On this the princess had to lie all night. In the morning she was asked how she had slept.
"Oh, very badly!" said she. "I have scarcely closed my eyes all night. Heaven only knows what was in the bed, but I was lying on something hard, so that I am black and blue all over my body. It's horrible!"
****
Logan was too hot. He flung away the covers and flipped over the pillow so he could enjoy the cool side. He sat up and fanned his white undershirt out from his chest, flapping cool air on his skin. He flopped back over and closed his eyes. Mariko used to hate it when he kicked the covers loose from the foot of the bed in the middle of the night.
Ororo felt tangled up in the comforter. The shirttails twisted around her torso and bunched their way into the waistband of her shorts. She grunted in disgust and flung them onto the floor. Jonathan used to sleep in the nude. He said it felt like swimming between the sheets. No matter what part of him bumped up against her, he became aroused instantly. His handy knack with tools and equipment at the station house earned him the nickname of “Forge.” Ororo always wondered if it wasn’t a little selfish of her, in hindsight, to switch back to her maiden name after he’d passed away. Silvercloud wasn’t a name that fitted who she was once he no longer defined her as “Wife.”
That was the moment that her blood pressure chose to drop, creating unsettling numbness in her fingertips. Ororo exhaled all of the breath from her chest through her nose, then found to her absolute horror that she forgot how to inhale. For one blurry, dizzy moment, her brain screamed. Gotta breathe, gotta breathe, gotta breathe… She was wracked by a coughing spell as her esophagus finally forced itself open, flooding her chest with oxygen. “Oh, God!” she wheezed. She flung herself upright, pulling in breaths in heavy gulps. She flapped her shirt collar in and out, trying to fan some air against her face and neck.
That’s how Logan found her. She heard his footsteps hurrying down the hall.
Better? by OriginalCeenote
Logan wordlessly tripped into the kitchen and whipped the dishtowel free from the refrigerator door handle. He flipped on the tap and ran the water as cold as he could get it, soaking the rag and wringing it out. He folded it into thirds as he made his way to the couch.
“S’okay,” he murmured. He knelt beside her and brushed her hair away from her cheek. Her skin felt slightly clammy and her breathing was harsh and uneven. Ororo felt the couch sag beneath her as he occupied the space beside her, scooping her hair away from her neck and laying it over her shoulder. He placed the cool rag against her nape, watching her with concern written on his face. Logan decided against turning on the bright kitchen light again, not wanting to shock her with the glare. Another coughing fit wracked her and bent her nearly double; she fisted her hands against her mouth to contain it. Logan gently intervened, capturing her hands and smoothing them flat, then replaced them over her nose and mouth.
“Breathe inta yer hands, darlin’, that’ll help. Might keep ya from getting’ dizzy. Longer breaths, sweetheart. That’s it,” he soothed, feeling he wasn’t taking too many liberties by rubbing her back. Ororo felt his strong, warm palm easing the tension in her muscles as she recovered. Her chest rose and fell in a more regularly rhythm as Logan whispered “It’s okay. Let it out, that’s it.” Ororo sighed out a shuddery breath before dropping her hands from her face and lacing them together beneath her chin. She leaned her elbows against her knees to support herself and dared to glance up at her savior. His eyes were warm but still worried.
“Better?”
“Mm-hm. Sorry for making such a fuss. Again,” she hedged, irritated with herself. He shook his head and felt the rag, noticing that it had become warm. He lifted it off and fanned cool air against her neck. She closed her eyes with a mixture of relief and pleasure and expelled a low groan.
“No fuss.” He cleared his throat. “M’iko…Mariko, I mean, used ta have panic attacks like that all the time, before she was killed. Me, I’m more of a nightmare man, myself,” he chuckled, without humor. He rose from the couch and went back into the kitchen to refresh the towel with cold water. Ororo heard ice cubes clattering into the bottom of a glass before he filled it to the brim. She smiled as she eyed the Spongebob Squarepants glass, gratefully taking it from him and draining half of it. He set it down on the coffee table and knelt before her again, urging her to relax. “Lie down.” There was nothing suggestive about the command, or anything persistent about his touch. He brushed her hair from her face and gently, tenderly swabbed her forehead and cheeks with the towel.
“Do ya need anything else, darlin’?” She reached for his hand, covering it with hers. She unwrapped his fingers from the towel and took it from him, dropping it on top of the discarded shorts with a plop. Only then did Logan notice that her legs were entirely bare. Ororo opened his hand and laid his palm against her cheek, stroking the backs of his knuckles. He made a strange sound in his throat as she instigated the caress, propping herself on one elbow while she turned her face into his hand, nuzzling his flesh. Heat shot through his stomach and created a heaviness between his legs when she nibbled the thick pad of his palm, tasting him.
“I can’t sleep.”
“What can I do…ta make ya more comfortable?” He lightly stroked her plump lips with his thumb. They dropped open and steamed it, drawing it inside her heat. He traced the edge of her teeth and nearly came undone when she suckled him. She stared up unto his eyes with sudden and undeniable hunger.
“Don’t leave me.” Her voice was husky and full of longing. She released his hand and stroked the length of his forearm, feathering her fingertips over the hollow of his elbow and clutching his upper arm for support as she sat upright again. Logan needed no further urging and nudged himself between her thighs. His hands trembled as they cupped her face, and he leaned in to nibble the corner of her mouth. Ororo moaned. “Mmmmmmm.” He nibbled the other side as his fingers tunneled into her hair and kneaded her neck. She sighed her approval as he barely caressed her lips with his, steaming them, nuzzling them open to take a more thorough taste. The kiss was languorous and deep, drugging them as Ororo’s thighs tightened convulsively around his waist. She allowed her hands to roam over his chest, exploring the taut, wiry muscles beneath the soft cotton undershirt.
“You’re my guest. I told ya ta make yerself at home, and I meant it,” he rumbled into her mouth. His hands fisted in her hair and he tugged it, exposing the column of her throat as he nipped a fiery path along her jaw, down her neck, swirling his tongue against her pulse. “I wanna be a good host.”
“MMMMMMmmmmm.” Her arms crept around his neck and drew him closer as she reveled in his skilled, ardent assault. Her short fingernails lightly scored his shoulders and raked through his soft, thick hair. “You’ve…made me feel…welcome,” she hissed out. His hands traced the curve of her waist and gripped her hips, pulling her forward to the edge of the couch cushion, fitting her pelvis against his. He cupped her ass, kneading it as she arched against him, begging for more of his touch, of his lips.
“Ya haven’t had the nickel tour of the place yet.” Logan dragged her up from the couch and slanted his mouth over hers, overwhelming her senses with another kiss that turned liquid and hot. Her breasts rubbed against him as he gripped her ass, unimpeded by the couch cushions this time, and ground himself against her softness. Then he hoisted her up, wrapping her thighs around him as he carried her down the hall. “I wanna direct yer attention ta one room in particular,” he rasped in her ear, suckling her sensitive earlobe. Ororo shuddered in delight and kissed his temple just as he kicked open the door to the master bedroom.
His sheets smelled like him, she decided, as he laid her on the bed. The hem of his shirt slid up, revealing the neat patch of snowy curls between her legs. The sight of her long, tapering brown legs crowned by that sweet little mound drove him crazy and made him all the more determined to be as hospitable as humanly possible. He leaned over her and kissed her, craving her taste again, enjoying the mellow flavor of rum and brown sugar that still lingered in her mouth. She almost felt bereft when his lips left hers, until he stared down at her and began slowly unfastening the buttons on her shirt. He spread it open and drew in a shaky breath. “Damn, darlin’, look at ya.” His finger traced her collarbones in a lazy figure eight and trailed down the valley between her breasts. Every inch of her was perfect. Ororo wasn’t skinny, but there wasn’t one ounce of flesh of her body that wasn’t toned and supple. Her waist was narrow and curved gracefully into her womanly hips. His finger teased her navel, making her flat belly quiver beneath his hand.
“Logan,” she cried. His name was a benediction coming from her mouth. He spread her thighs and raised her knees to give him better access and an enticing view of her sex. Ororo watched him tug his undershirt from the waist of his boxers and shuck it off one-handed, exposing his rippling pectorals and washboard stomach, covered in a fine mat of hair.
“I wanna feel ya wrapped around me, darlin’,” he rasped. He dipped his head and feathered his lips against her nipple before drawing it into his mouth. She arched up off the bed, desperate for more as he suckled and teased, cupping the other breast and stroking its peak with his thumb. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she begged him not to stop. She felt herself grow slick with need as he alternated between breasts, unable to decide which one tasted sweeter before deciding it was a draw. He licked and nibbled her ribcage and abdomen, tonguing her navel. She rewarded him with a choked gasp of pleasure as her hips moved against him of their own volition. He heeded their call and bowed his face to the tiny pearl that had grown damp from his efforts. Ororo had been overwhelmed by Logan’s devastating kiss on the dark, crowded dance floor at Mac’s. Now she gave herself up to his ministrations, to this intimate, knowing kiss in utter surrender. Logan lapped her nectar like a man dying of thirst, opening her, separating her folds as he slid a finger inside. Her walls tightened around him as his other hand slid under her buttocks, lifting her to him.
“Yes, Logan! I’m begging you…touch me.” Logan only heard the rushing of blood in his ears and his own pounding heart as he drank his fill of the desirable woman writhing beneath him. Her cries and moans grew louder and filled the bedroom, mingling with the musky aroma of sex. It saturated his senses as he slid another finger into her wetness, loving the feel of her.
“So sweet,” he growled, freeing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. He filled her with his own searing heat until she nearly fell over the edge.
“LOGAN.” Logan felt the tension building in every muscle of her body as she strained and bucked, fisting her hands in the sheets.
“Come fer me, ‘Roro.”
“You haven’t…”
“Uh-uh. If it feels good to ya, show me. Come, sweetheart. Let me hear it.” He held her hips immobile and laved her mercilessly, stimulating the swollen, rosy tissue. She thrashed and moaned unintelligible pleas, until her voice rose in a crescendo of violent fulfillment.
“AAAAAAAAANGNGGGG! GODDESS HELP “ MEEEEEEEEEE!!! LOGAAANN!” Paroxysms shook her as her hands fisted in his hair, clutching him to her as he drank her passionate release. “Urrrgggh.” Her thighs shuddered one last time and went limp, completely boneless. From his perch between her legs, Logan’s eyes roved over her heaving breasts and belly as she panted and gasped raggedly, this time with no vestige of the terror that had marked her struggle for air in the living room a while ago. There was only contentment radiating out from her glowing face and lax limbs.
Logan kissed her inner thigh, startling her from her post-coital haze. He never took his eyes from hers as he bent down and painstakingly cleaned the last of the wetness from her flesh. She leaned up onto her elbows and studied him.
“It’s…it’s been a long time since…”
“Ya don’t hafta tell me,” he assured her. He kissed her knee, then scooted up to cover her body with his, molding himself to every valley and curve. “And we don’t hafta trade notes on when the last time was that either of us had anyone else warming the sheets or sharing a toothbrush. Unless tellin’ me helps whatever spooked ya before.” She sighed and stroked his stubbled jaw, quivering as he nibbled on her knuckles, one by one. She gave him a measured look as she kissed him, tasting herself on him. She tickled the crest of his ear and tugged on his lobe.
“It was hard, at first, deciding if I wanted to meet you tonight. You know my reasons,” she reminded him, giving him the full benefit of the doubt. “But we don’t have to talk about them right now. My husband’s not in this room, and I won’t bring him between us to taint this, Logan. I want to make love to you. With everything that I have.” Her voice broke. She kissed him in earnest. He groaned as he raked his fingers through her hair and gave in, thrilled at her response. I want to make love to you. That phrase repeated itself like a steady chant that spurred him on. He freed her arms from the sleeves of his shirt and chucked it over his shoulder. His mouth was everywhere, whispering over her eyelids and cheeks, uttering ragged sounds of arousal in her ear, nipping her shoulders and neck. Ororo reached down and eased his boxers down, freeing his thick erection. He reared back onto his haunches and looped her legs over his shoulders, plunging a finger into her depths, readying her for his entry. He grasped his cock and rubbed the plump, engorged head over her clitoris, enflaming her. She arched against him, begging him with her body to come to her. He circled himself against her, renewing the dew of moisture coating her mound. He inserted the very tip of his cock between her folds, dragging it up and down. Her voice sang out long and loud as she undulated her hips to meet him.
“Goddess, Logan, make love to me! Please, please!” He nodded and gripped her thighs, fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust himself into her to the hilt. He nearly collapsed from the intense pleasure of her glove-tight sheath, but he drove on, pistoning and plunging himself into her, drawing desperate cries from her mouth.
“God, Ororo, yer so tight…feels so damned sweet, hot…FUCK!” He thrust again. The sound became a chant in his mind as he fought against bruising her ears with the expletive, but she milked it out of him with every throbbing plunge of his cock.
“Yes! YESSSSSS! LoganLoganLOGAN! OHHHHHHH!” She met him, moving together with him in an unrelenting dance. He leaned forward slightly, tilting her pelvis up in the process, giving her a better view of his cock dipping into her. The sight was erotic and compelling, coupled with the sight of his muscles rippling and spasming with the impact. He was glorious. And as the minutes dragged into an hour, Ororo allowed herself the luxury of believing he was hers.
“Need you. Need you,” he grunted, lowering her thighs and falling against her, wanting to feel her softness. His hips corkscrewed sinuously, driving her mad, dangling her over the edge. She embraced him tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist. She whispered feverishly in his ear.
“Come with me.” The throbbing release shook him to the core as he came long and hard, jerking and spasming as she squeezed and convulsed around his shaft. She held him during the aftershocks, stroking him, unable to let him go. For one scalding moment, she scolded herself. Time enough later to think about letting him go. Logan’s strength drained away as his shaft retracted itself from her depths. He made no attempt to move, settling his cheek against her shoulder as he nuzzled the crook of her neck. Ororo’s caresses were no longer desperate, but they never stilled as she contemplated her surroundings and the firm, comfortable mattress under her back. “That was beautiful. I couldn’t get enough.” Her voice was shaky. Couldn’t get enough of you, her body corrected her.
“Know the feelin’,” he agreed, his breath warm against her skin. Fluttery waves of contentment stirred within her as he began to return her caress. “So,” he murmured, lifting his face to lightly kiss her chin, “think ya can stay the rest of the night?” A laugh bubbled forth from her lips. She nodded, earning her another sound kiss.
“Definitely. You gave me the tour. It’s been…educational.” He threw back his head and barked out a laugh that curled her toes. She took him by surprise when she rolled him over onto his back and straddled him. His penis jutted against her, coming back to life. She reached for his hands and covered her breasts with his palms.
“What’re ya up to, darlin’?”
“Now it’s my turn to educate you. Namely how a firefighter comes down the pole.”
That Funny Little Tickle by OriginalCeenote
Mmmnnhh…Logan shifted and fidgeted amidst the tangle of covers and squinted at the bright morning glare shining in through the bedroom window. The navy blue tab-top curtains gave the whole bedroom a calming, grayish cast, but that didn’t help the light that was burning into his eyeballs. He passed his hand over his eyes and gave his face a thorough wake-up rub, wincing at the aftertaste of rum and cotton coating his tongue. His first inclination was to stretch and let his joints crack and pop their way awake…until he felt the press of something heavy and soft against his chest. No, that wasn’t it. It was bigger, and it occupied more of his space than that. Something…wait, it dawned on him, someone was pressed up along his side, warming him, steaming his collarbones with morning breath almost identical to his. He suppressed a startled jerk as a slender hand languidly stroked his chest, grazing his nipple. The nickel-sized bud stiffened into a tingling peak, making him suck in his breath. Logan’s free hand “ his other arm was wrapped around his overnight guest at the moment, and his fingers were just regaining feeling from having fallen asleep “ reached out to still the questing hand, laying it flat against his chest. The events of the previous night were trickling into his consciousness, and he wanted to savor them one by one. Ororo’s soft, sleep-warmed skin was proving a distraction.
Ororo had been married. And she was a widow. Her husband’s name was Jonathan. Talking about him, albeit briefly, had left a slightly haunted look in her blue eyes. She’d loved him, that he could tell. He sensed there had been trouble in paradise. He was no stranger to that, either.
Her hair color hadn’t come out of a bottle, he mused, stifling a chuckle.
She played a mean game of shuffleboard. And she was a Clapton fan, that was a plus.
There was a spot behind her ear that made her whimper and arch against him when he tasted it. She was addicted to Starbuck’s coffee and she spoiled her dog.
She was a heavy sleeper, but incredibly responsive to touch. She talked in her sleep. And occasionally kissed in her sleep.
My husband’s not in this room, and I won’t bring him between us to taint this, Logan. So it meant something to her, more than just a one-night stand. Logan pondered this as he lightly stroked her arm. She sighed and snuggled up, her breasts burrowing into his ribs.
What did it mean to him? He turned his face slightly, rubbing his cheek over her tousled waves of hair, letting them tickle his lips.
What could SHE mean to him?
Logan steeled himself and delicately, painstakingly detached her from his body, tucking her back in as he slid out of bed. He was naked, but felt thoroughly vulnerable and exposed once he was separated from the sheltering sweetness of her body. Ororo moaned and twisted in the covers, flinging her arms over her head. “Mmmm.” Logan broke away, even though it physically pained him, and retrieved his discarded boxer shorts. He hopped into them as he made his way down the hall.
First things first. He dialed Yukio’s number.
“Hey. It’s me.” Logan could hear the sounds of MTV blasting in the background and commotion in her kitchen. Jubilee must be up, most likely ransacking the refrigerator.
“Nice of you to join the land of the living,” she scolded, but her voice held no rancor.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Long night. Ain’t had any coffee yet.”
“I already did inventory this morning and put the out to lunch sign on the door. You’ve got another forty minutes to get your sweet tail behind the counter. I’ll bring Jubes back in a little while. She has a change of clothes, already, and she can shower here.”
“Good. Sounds like a plan. I hafta take care of some business in the meantime. Gotta call a tow truck.”
“Something happen to the bike?” Yukio sounded horrified.
“No, no. Not the bike. Ororo’s Jeep. She had ta leave it at Mac’s last night. Alternator went out.”
“Ororo’s Jeep? Whooaaaa…hold on, now. Back it up. Her Jeep went out, and she left it at Mac’s? So you took her home, or, what?”
“Or what,” he repeated, bracing himself for the inevitable…
“You DOG! Holeeeeee shit! YESSSSS! I want details, graphic, gory details without leaving anything out! BOOOO-YAAHHHH!” Logan could hear Jubilee in the background, asking Yukio if she’d lost her freakin’ mind as he shook his head, shoulders jerking with his attempts not to laugh.
“Gotta call the truck. Gotta go. I’ll see you an’ Jubes in a bit.” Yukio held him a couple of minutes longer, busting his chops, filling his ears with I-told-you-sos, and chanting “Ororo and Logan, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” but she stopped short of the part about the baby carriage, knowing when not to go too far. Logan hung up the phone and rummaged through his cabinets for the coffee. Not Starbucks, but it would do. He loaded the filter and set the timer, then retrieved the phone book. Ten minutes later, he had a pot of hot, fresh joe, bread popping out of the toaster, and eggs sizzling in the pan. A loud knock almost made him drop the jar of strawberry jam, which he hastily set down before jerking open the door.
“LeBeau’s Towing and Hauling. We got that Jeep; where do ya want us ta leave her?” Logan chuckled at the use of “her.”
“Out back. In the private parking lot.” Logan reached for the clipboard and signed his John Hancock by the ‘X.’ He padded to the kitchen table and opened up his wallet, digging into the billfold and prying out a handful of twenties. The slender man with brown hair measured Logan as he took the cash. “Shame for something ta happen ta a Jeep that sweet. Hope it ain’t hard ta fix, homme.” He tucked his pen into his coverall pocket. Logan thought back to the sleeping angel tangled in his sheets in back, remembering what she’d confessed to him last night.
“Some things are worth trying fix, even if it takes a little effort,” he grunted. They exchanged nods and Logan gently shut the door. He turned off the eggs, hoping Ororo liked hers hard scrambled; Logan wasn’t a runny yoke man. He liked ta eat his eggs, not drink ‘em. He opened up the fridge and pulled out a loaf of ham, and then began slicing off thin pieces. He dropped these into the pan once he’d transferred the eggs onto the plate. The maple-cured ham filled the kitchen with its rich scent.
Mariko wasn’t much for ham. She’d often shaken her head at his “taste for swine.”
Logan turned the ham deftly with a fork, satisfied when the edges curled and crackled, nice and crisp. He turned off the burner and removed the pan from the heat, covered it with a lid. Time to see if Ororo was ready to get up. Logan braced himself for the possible awkward greetings as he nudged the bedroom door open.
She was still asleep, but her breathing was shallow, less of a snore. Damn, she was beautiful. All long, graceful limbs and smooth mocha skin. Her lower lip was caught between her even white teeth as she emitted a small sigh, and something in Logan stirred, something that had lain dormant even since his wife was lowered into the ground. He approached the bed and knelt beside it, reaching out to stroke her hair off of her cheek. She smacked her lips and leaned into his touch, turning onto her side and instinctively clutching his wrist. Logan took this as a positive sign. His free hand caressed her bare, silky shoulder, making her quiver. “Mmmmph.” He restrained a laugh at her stubborn determination to stay asleep.
He’d just have to persuade her how good an idea waking up would be…
He reached up with the index finger of his captive hand and skimmed it along her full, soft lips, stroking it experimentally. There, it worked, she puckered it, nipping the tip. Even that subtle little nip sent arousal into his loins. Her dark, curling lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she nibbled him again, her fingers tightening around his wrist, drawing him closer. Logan caressed her hair, letting the strands sift through his fingers, massaging her scalp. She rewarded him with an appreciative moan; Logan watched her back arch beneath the covers as they slipped loose, exposing her.
Breakfast was about to get really, really cold.
Logan lowered his lips to her forehead, tracing her hairline with feather-light kisses. He felt the suction of her lips around his fingertip increase as she drew him in another centimeter. His mouth nibbled a path across her forehead, teasing her arched brows, before he gently gripped her jaw and tilted her face to better allow him to lave her eyelids with his tongue.
“Ohhhhnnggh.” His fingertip slipped loose from her lips as they dropped open on a gasp. He licked a hot and sultry path down her cheekbone, trailing over her jaw, reveling in the taste of her skin. He nibbled her chin, encouraging her to show him her throat. Attagirl. Ororo came awake with a full-bodied cry as her hands clutched at his crisp, thick waves of hair, desire pooling between her legs at the insistent, firm mouth latching onto her neck. “Sssshit…” she hissed, shocking them both with her profanity before her eyes shuttered, and she surrendered fully to the havoc he wreaked. The sheets were peeled away, and Ororo felt the cool air wash over her skin for a brief moment before he covered her body with his. She savored the warm, solid bulk of him enveloping her as he claimed her mouth for a proper good morning kiss. He took his sweet time about it, she realized, and he was very thorough. She moaned her approval into his mouth, returning the greeting. Their limbs tangled together sinuously as she revisited the past night’s revelations. He has a tiny scar here. There’s that tiny mole on his ribcage that I liked so much…
“We ain’t got much time ta loaf around, darlin’, but…oh, God! Don’t stop, that feels so damned good, yer makin’ it hard ta start the day!” She writhed beneath him; he could feel the friction from her curls rubbing over his bulge, even though the thin cotton of his boxers. “Aw, hell!” He broke away, rearing up to yank off his boxers. They landed back onto the heap of their clothes with a soft plop as he joined her again with every intention of enveloping himself in her sweet heat. Her legs wrapped around his waist as though they had been partners for years as he pressed himself into her, swallowing her cry, their groans mingling as he reassured her that she was by no means overstaying her welcome.
I want to make love to you. With everything that I have. Her words rushed back to him as he mentally accepted her gift. Yes, yes. He wanted it. Wanted her, everything that she had to give, but the words to express this were lost in the tide of passion that swept them both away. So he let his body, his hands, his mouth describe more eloquently what he was feeling toward this sensuous woman who had slipped past his defenses the moment he’d looked into her eyes. Logan made a mental note to remind Yukio to order another supply of frappacino…
“Oh, God!” he panted, thrusting into her for all that he was worth. She met him with every stroke as waves and ripples of pleasure spread through her womb.
“LOGAN.” His head reared back as she felt him clench and tighten within her depths, throbbing for release. She squeezed him one last time and he roared his satisfaction into the stillness of the room as he came, spasming and bucking as he filled her. His climax triggered her own fulfillment as she held him close, her own ragged cry mingling with his. Logan shuddered as her teeth sank into her shoulder, but the pain enhanced the sensations flooding every nerve ending of his body. He soothed her, stroking her hair, his lips brushing her temples, whispering against the corner that it was all right, that he was here, that he wouldn’t let go. Gradually the tremors eased, and Logan basked in her limp but tender embrace.
“I may never get out of bed now, you realize that, right?” she prodded, kissing the bridge of his nose as he settled himself comfortably against the swell of her breasts.
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he admitted. “Hungry?”
“I could eat anything that’s not nailed down,” she confessed. “Smells good.”
“Made coffee already. Called for a tow, too. Yer Jeep’s out back.”
“Oh, Logan, that’s sweet; thank you,” she gushed, touched by his thoughtfulness.
“Ororo?” he inquired, raising his face to hers, staring fondly into her eyes.
“Yeah?” His throat suddenly felt tight.
“I was…kinda worried what it would be like. What waking up would be like. With you. How things’d look in the light of day.” He felt like an idiot. “Darlin’, are ya okay with this?” He’d fretted for a moment when she’d tensed up at his admission of being worried, but was instantly relieved when she relaxed at his closing words. Her fingers crept up and traced his cheek. Her eyes were full of an emotion he couldn’t name quite yet as she studied him.
“I’m very okay with it. There’s still…some things we need to talk about, Logan.” She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “But I’d like that opportunity, when we have more time.” As if reading his thoughts, she kissed him soundly, then leaned her forehead against his, murmuring, “So, what that means is, no lame promises to ‘call each other sometime.’ I want to see you again. Badly.” His grin nearly split his face.
“Works fer me. In the meantime, let’s eat.”
Now they knew that she was a real princess because she had felt the pea right through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down beds.
*****
Ororo and Logan made their way to the kitchen, hand in hand once she made herself decent in the flannel shirt from last night. She added the shorts to her ensemble, seating herself on the couch to slip them on. Shame to cover up such a pretty sight, Logan mused, unscrewing the lid from the jam. She paused a moment, wriggling her covered backside into the cushion, bouncing on it experimentally. Logan quirked his brow, wondering how she suddenly developed a case of ants in her pants…or his pants, for that matter...
“What’s up?” He divided the eggs into equal portions on two mismatched plates. He hesitated in the task as he noticed the cobalt blue border with its dainty sprays of cabbage roses.
It was one of the last remaining dinner plates of their wedding china set. He didn’t have the heart to put it back now. Ororo had to be pretty hungry.
“There’s something lumpy under here.”
“Hunh. Let me know if there’s any loose change,” he joked as he brought their plates to the table. Ororo grinned at him and slid to the floor, flipping the cushion up.
“Hey…were you missing this?” She replaced the cushion and rose, pulling up a chair at the cozy table. She handed Logan an object that fit neatly into her hand, and her smile faltered as she noticed the tension that whitened his knuckles, and the turbulent emotions that flitted across his face. She cleared her throat. “It’s beautiful, Logan. Where did you get that?”
“Japan.” He turned it over, letting the sunlight dance over its shiny surface. Mariko had been a voracious reader. They’d stopped at a street fair and browsed the vendor’s carts for curios and antiques to send home. The figurines and other fluffy, useless items like wineglass charms and candle snuffers held no charm for him, but Mariko exclaimed over the sterling silver bookmarks. The one she chose had a round jade stone set into the head. The design was simple but elegant. She had to have it.
It was one of the rare items that he never packed away. “Jubilee must’ve been using it; probably slipped out of something she was reading.”
“Good thing it’s safe. Especially if it’s something you cherish.” He laid it on the table and fetched two mugs from the cup hooks over the stove. “What, no Spongebob?” Ororo observed. That lightened some of the the pall over his features. He smiled as he filled their cups.
“Probably would be, if Jubilee drank coffee.”
“Mm-hm.” She sipped the steaming brew. “Mmm. Perfect. I needed that.” She sampled the eggs next, eyes brightening with surprise. “You’re a man of many talents. This is wonderful.”
“I like ta eat. Jubes eats like a truck driver,” he offered, biting into his ham.
“Yeah, teenagers’ll do that. I’m not much of a cook.” Ororo had a vision of her nearly bare pantry, mentally counting two boxes of mac and cheese, some crackers, and a can of olives. She needed to go shopping soon.
“Don’t like to?”
“No time to learn anything fancier than ‘add one can of water and stir.’ My husband liked to cook, every now and again.”
“I learned a little from my wife. Her family owned a catering business. She also picked up different recipes from other servicemen’s wives when I was stationed on different bases.”
“Was the constant moving and traveling hard?” Ororo bit into her toast after spreading it generously with jam.
“Sometimes.” He swirled his coffee in his cup. “Makes it hard to establish roots. That’s why I got out. Jubes was the daughter of one of my best friends.” He knew it was almost time to bring the meal to a close; she had to get her car to a mechanic, and he had a store to run. But it was easy to talk to her. “We were overseas. Afghanistan. He was about a meter away from me when he stepped on a landmine.” His voice was steady, but the revelation had an immediate effect on Ororo. He felt her soft hand covering his and met her eyes.
“I’m sorry. How horrible. Both for you, to have been so close, seeing it happen, and for Jubilee.” He turned his hand and squeezed hers back, basking in the simple comfort of her gesture.
“I still dream about it.”
“You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t, When something that traumatic happens to you, you’re never quite the same again.” I wasn’t. “How did Jubilee come to live with you?”
“M’iko an’ I were her godparents. We’d always kept in touch. But Doc’s wife was in a bad way after he was killed. M’iko used ta take her a hot dish once in a while and would take Jubes off her hands for the afternoon when she needed a break. Her doctor had prescribed sleeping pills and an antidepressant.” Ororo felt a wave of dread wash over her at what she knew was coming. “She swallowed ‘em all one weekend when M’iko took Jubes on a camping trip with her friends. One of the other parents called to see when Patti was going to be home so M’iko could drop her off. When she wouldn’t answer the phone all day, she peeked in the windows, and saw Patti lying on the floor. She’d been there for a few hours.” Logan looked up from their joined hands at the sounds of a loud sniffle.
“Sorry, don’t mind me, it’s…it’s just…” She waved away her overreaction at first, attempting to regain her composure. “It’s hard to think of that young of a girl not having her mom.” She mopped away the tears welling up in her lashes with the sleeve of his shirt, before they could fall. “She’s lucky to have you.” She doesn’t know how lucky.
“The jury’s still out on that,” he sighed. “We drive each other crazy, but she’s grown on me. I love her ta death an’ can’t imagine life without her. Someone has ta keep me current on music, fashion, and teenager-ese.”
“It’s a dirty job…’ Ororo let the phrase dangle. They finished their meal in relative silence. Ororo cleared the table, ordering him “Sit!” when he moved to take the dishes from her hands. “You cooked, I’ll clean up. You saved me the trip to pick up something that wouldn’t have been anywhere near as good as this was.” She ran the water for the dishes and soaped the sponge. “I’ll be out of your hair soon. Promise.” Ororo felt a shiver as she spoke her fears aloud, albeit jokingly.
“I ain’t givin’ ya the bum’s rush out the door, darlin’, not ta worry.” Unexpectedly, Ororo felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind, enveloping her in a bear hug. “It’s hard fer a guy who’s his own boss ta take the day off.”
“Mmm. I have to head home and feed my puppy and take him out for a run.” Logan kissed the spot where her neck connected to her shoulder, then released her.
“I’ll get ya something else ta wear. It’s too hot outside for flannel.” Ororo finished up the dishes as Logan rooted through his bureau for something suitable for them both, before he stepped into the shower and took the shortest shower in history. Yukio would read him the riot act for keeping her on duty unrelieved for so long. He retrieved her little dress, still slightly damp, but thankfully not too much the worse for wear. Her shoes were a lost cause, which was a damn shame. Those sexy little sandals made him imagine her in those and nothing else. He smoothed the wrinkles from the satiny fabric and gently folded it on his way back to the kitchen. “Looks like yer wearin’ my stuff home, darlin’,” he announced. “Left it on the bathroom counter for ya.”
“Can’t say that I mind.” His shirts smelled like him. A few minutes later found Ororo stepping into his sneakers, chuckling at the fact that despite his shorter stature, his feet were still a size or two bigger than hers. Logan tucked her dress into a plastic bag and handed Ororo her denim jacket. He grabbed his keys from the hook and opened the door, stopping Ororo for one last kiss for the road that turned into several.
“What time (mmm) do you close (kiss) tonight?”
“Yukio’s gonna (smooch) do the honors.” Hmm, there’s a dab of jam right there, almost missed it… “Jubilee’ll be home tonight, though.” Smooch.
“Mmm. Darn it. (kiss) I’m on the early shift tomorrow, too.” It should be illegal for a man to taste this good. “I have to get up at the crack of dawn.”
“So do I,” he admitted, nudging her hair aside for one last taste of her neck. Sometimes it sucked being an adult. Except when you got to break curfew.
A short while later, Ororo unlocked her front door after checking her mail, sifting through it as she crossed the threshold. The sound of claws scratching along her hardwood floors came closer as Chuckles came panting and wagging his way into the hall to greet her. “Oooo, how’s mommy’s snookums? Come here, baby, give mama some sugar!” She knelt to give him a thorough scratching and belly rub and accepted his enthusiastic kisses, puppy breath and all. Chuckles lingered longer at his canine greeting, taking the time to snuffle and examine all of the strange, unfamiliar scents she carried in with her. He paid extra close attention to the well-worn men’s Adidas sneakers on her feet. What was it about dogs and shoes?
“Mama made a new friend, Chuckles,” she murmured somewhat redundantly, in light of how complete a sniffing she was getting from her lab. His tail was still wagging, and he licked her tongue and jawline with renewed enthusiasm at the new scent.At least the dog and I are on the same page. Chuckles followed her into the kitchen, where she replaced his old water with fresh and poured him a dish of Science Diet kibble. “Time for breakfast, sweetie.” Ororo reflected on the relaxing meal she’d enjoyed at Logan’s table, wondering how she’d managed to feel so much at home.
It had taken weeks, even months for her own empty house to feel like a home again after Jonathan was gone. If she closed her eyes, she could sometimes still imagine him sitting at the kitchen table, reading the sports pages or working on his whittling, apologizing with a smile and little remorse for the leftover wood shavings that landed on her clean floor.
That’s when it hit her.
“I made love with Logan. Oh, Goddess, what have I done?” Ororo’s legs suddenly felt like nerveless noodles. She dropped into her kitchen chair and began fanning her face with one of the pieces of mail from her bundle, trying to dispel that flushed feeling rising into her cheeks. He’d felt so good. So right. And she’d let go of that unshakable pain, that dark shroud of mourning that had dogged her all these months within his arms, beneath his lips and knowing touch.
The guilt washed over her like a bucket of icy water, and Ororo cried, sobbing loudly and brokenly for the first time since the anniversary of Jonathan’s death. Chuckles padded over to her side, nudging her leg with his damp nose.
She’d told Logan that her husband wasn’t there when she’d given herself up to the passion that flared up between them. But he was still in her house, still lingering in her heart, occupying so much space that she nearly couldn’t breathe. More than anything, though, beneath the weight of that seeming betrayal flickered a ray of hope, glowing like a beacon, that maybe she could make room in her heart for the feisty store owner with his rusty laugh and sincere eyes. Only time would tell. Could they make that time? Would he want to, she wondered. Was it worth it?
Were they worth it?
Ororo ruminated over this under the pelting spray of warm water as she took her shower and planned out the rest of her Saturday. First on the list was taking Chuckles out for some fresh air. Might clear my thoughts, too. Or not. Next was getting a hold of Alex and Scott and pricing an alternator…
RRRRRIINNGGGGG…Ororo wrapped her dripping hair up in a thick Egyptian cotton towel and strolled, still naked, to answer the phone. “This is Ororo.”
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Munroe,” Scott growled, sounding remarkably like a parent demanding explanations.
“Oops…”
“Lady, where’ve you BEEN? We tried to call you last night after we lost track of you. You weren’t in the lot, you never came back, and Alex saw your Jeep still in the lot at Mac’s. I felt a few hairs go gray.”
“I’m fine, I’m home,” she hedged feebly, prickling with guilt, but appreciating his concern. She put the receiver down and pressed the speaker button so she could towel off her hair and body.
“Logan went rushing out after you. You didn’t even tell us you were leaving, and he looked pretty upset. You guys have a disagreement?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” Ororo fumbled with her underwear and fished out biking shorts and a tank top from her vanity. “It was nothing. And definitely not anything he did. He gave me a ride back here after my Jeep wouldn’t start.” She purposely left out the missing ten hours or so between Logan stopping her in the lot and her arrival back at her house.
“HMMMMMM…a ride, huh? Why do I get the feeling that I should be worried about that?”
“You shouldn’t,” she reassured him. Her voice sounded entirely too sunny and innocent to Scott. She laughed when she very clearly heard Alex in the background demanding “Ask her what time she got in last night!!!”
“Tell Alex he’s on speaker,” she suggested blandly. Scott relayed that without missing a beat, eliciting an “Oh, shit!” from Alex. Ororo dissolved into giggles.
“You’d think you guys were my brothers, for crying out loud. I’m an adult.”
“We know. And you’re a great friend. Of course, you informing me that you’re an adult implies that you’re hiding some details…?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.” She said that with some finality as she yanked a wide-toothed comb through her hair.
“AHA! So there IS something to kiss and tell, Munroe!” Scott crowed triumphantly.
“Man, you guys are worse than a couple of high school girls. Next you’ll be asking me if I think Logan is cute and if I want to share your lip gloss and Tiger Beat magazines.”
“Ooooh. Low blow, ‘Roro.”
“I learned from the masters. Speaking of which…Jean and Lorna seemed nice.”
“We don’t kiss and tell, either.” Scott took a sip of his coffee as he neatly deflected her attempt at fishing.
“Darn. A woman can try, can’t she?”
“Fair enough. Just don’t get pissed at me for getting worried. You made me worry. We’re your buds, Ororo. We were Jon’s friends, too, obviously, but we don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“I’m allowed to move on, aren’t I? Can’t keep on collecting dust up on the shelf…” Her voice trailed off.
“Definitely. I know you’re lonely…” Scott continued.
“…we’re always here for you, Ororo, you know that,” Alex interjected from his perch on the couch as he bit into a cinnamon roll.
“I know. But you guys are there for me in the same vein that Chuckles here is. No offense meant,” she added, tying off her ponytail.
“None taken. Not much, anyway.” Ororo laughed again when she heard Scott muttering in the background to Alex, “Now she’s lumping us into the same category as her dog,” and Alex’s rejoinder of “Man, that’s cold, ‘Ro.”
“By the way, do either of you know how to replace an alternator? I just paid the registration and insurance on the car, and I don’t want to get ripped off on the cost of labor, if I can avoid it.”
“Promise us dinner at Mac’s, and Alex and I can take care of that. Here’s the number of the auto parts shop on Market Street, they’ll give you the most reasonable deal.”
“Thanks! I hate dumping this on you on your day off.”
“It’s called a favor. We’ll pick how you can repay it,” Scott said cheerfully. Alex pealed off a “MwaHAHAHAAAA!” from the couch that Ororo was certain was accompanied by maniacal hand rubbing and googly expressions.”
“Just give me a half-hour to go walk the dog.”
Ororo hung up, unsure of whether she was trying to convince her friends she was ready for something new, or herself. She dug around in the kitchen drawer for Chuckles’ leash.
An hour later, up in the hills:
“Logan?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Why does Yukio keep calling you ‘whipped?’”
“Shaddap!” Logan folded up the newspaper that he was reading and brandished it as though he was about to swat Jubilee with it. “Don’tcha have some room ta clean?”
“Way to evade the question. And admit it, you do look whipped.”
“Sez you.”
“Wanna explain why you just stickered that case of Gatorade bottles twice?” Logan whipped his head back to the shelf he’d just finished pricing, and sure enough, there were two stickers decorating every damn bottle. Damn…
“Niiiice!” Jubilee hooted, cracking her gum. Her attention was diverted by the bark of a nearby dog. “Hm. No one around here has any pets,” she pointed out. She meandered off the front porch and rounded the corner. “Oh, wow! He’s so CUTE! What’s his name?” Logan frowned at Jubilee bugging strangers at random, cute dog or not, but his slight frown lifted when he heard a familiar voice say “He answers to Chuckles. Trust me, the name suits him. He’s caught his own tail a few times on the occasions where he chases it. He’s my baby.” Logan automatically strode back to the ice box and took out a frappaccino. “Yukio,” he murmured, remembering an earlier item on his to-do list, “order more of this stuff on the next shipment, ‘kay?” She eyed him quizzically as he stepped outside.
“Logan!” Ororo felt a flutter in her stomach and gratefully took the drink that he held out.
“Hey, you guys know each other? You never told me you had any friends with such a cool dog,” Jubilee accused, hugging and stroking the puppy, who was loving the attention.
“We met yesterday, after we took care of a fire at the campsite yesterday. Me and the guys over there,” Ororo indicated the two men bent over the hood of her car. Jubilee’s eyes grew round with admiration.
“Whoa!” She grinned like a girl who’d hit the jackpot.
“Eyes back in yer head, half-pint.”
“I can look,” she whined.
“Just making sure I have a ride to get back to work with tomorrow.”
“Makes sense. Now, have you got any dinner plans?” Jubilee continued to watch the hunky guys muttering back and forth and each other over the sweet little silver Jeep, impressed that the striking lady with white hair seemed to have it all. She missed Logan tickling the underside of Ororo’s pinky, making it curl around his fingers in response.
“Hmmm. Dinner…”
“It’s that thing that comes after lunch,” he suggested.
“Right, right. And no, I don’t have any plans.”
“Then maybe Jubes an’ I could fill in that gap. Ororo, this is Jubilee.” Ororo grinned from ear to ear as Jubilee paused in petting Chuckles long enough to crack her gum and shake her hand in an enthusiastic grip.
“Dude, your SO lucky to get to work with cute guys like that!”
“Don’t tell them that. Might go to their heads,” Ororo advised. She was right; she did like Jubilee. “Their lady friends that they went out with last night think so, too, so they don’t need any further reminding.”
“AWWWW!” She stomped her foot in mock indignation. “The good ones are always taken.”
“Or in this case, too old,” Ororo pointed out gently. She felt Logan squeeze her fingers again.
“Sez who?”
“Sez me,” Logan growled. He tugged Ororo closer and tweaked the tip of her nose. “So we’ll see you at dinner.”
“You got it.” Logan weighed the temptation to kiss Ororo in front of an audience. Reading his mind, she squeezed his hand one more time and said “I’ll let you get back to work.” She released him and watched him walk back, enjoying the view. Now that,she mused,is a butt. Hoo.Ororo and Jubilee watched Alex and Scott finish the repair and discussed the likely outcomes of who would win in a battle of the model with the biggest fake lips. They eventually agreed on Janice Dickinson and moved on to their favorite Spongebob Squarepants episode quotes.
Nobody but a real princess could be as sensitive as that.
*****
Several hours later:
Ororo maneuvered her Jeep into the rear parking and checked the contents of the passenger seat, hoping she remembered everything she meant to bring. Her Teva sandals scuffed in the gravel as she made her way to Logan’s staircase with the bags swinging from her wrist. Ororo braced herself and knocked. I want this to go well. Goddess help me.
She needn’t have worried. Much. The door was yanked open and Jubilee dragged her over the threshold. “C’mon in! I’m STARVED! Logan wanted to make sure we waited for you, but he’s making his barbecued chicken, and the smell’s been driving me crazy…what’d you bring me?” Jubilee hung from Ororo’s crooked arm and pointed to the bags in her hand. “Cool, you brought movies!” she cheered, noting the rental store logo on the smaller of the two bags. Ororo handed it to her and let her paw through the contents. “Anger Management. I LOVE this movie.”
“I was hoping you hadn’t seen it yet,” Ororo admitted. “I can never keep up with anything current, I never have the time.”
“You’ll love it,” Jubilee promised. She loaded the DVD into the deck and ran to find the TV trays. Logan turned off the oven and took out the foil-wrapped chicken and served their plates, nodding at the other plastic bag that Ororo had set under the dining room. “What’s that?”
“Something I didn’t want to get lost.” She’d said enough as Logan recognized the lumps of his shirt, shorts, and sneakers. He shot her a knowing look and left it at that. No sense in announcing to an impressionable teenager where she had spent the night.
Ororo and Logan spent the next hour and a half listening to Jubilee warning them “Ooo, this is the funny part, you can’t miss this!” They were just finishing the extra features and gag reel on the disc when Ororo turned around to ask Jubilee what other movies she recommended, when she was greeted with a light snore that was surprisingly close. Her elfin face was slightly upturned, lips open slightly as she dozed against Ororo’s shoulder, looking very vulnerable. She hadn’t noticed the faint weight against her up until then. Logan caught her amused, soft look from the kitchen as he put away the food.
“Kid conked out on ya, huh?”
“One moment she was talking a mile a minute, the next she’s out like a light! I almost hate to disturb her.” And she did. She wasn’t hurting a thing, and Ororo felt that funny little tickle in her insides that came over her whenever she saw mothers out in public, strolling with or carrying sleeping children. There was something peaceful and right about it that always made her ache.
“Jubes, bed.” Logan clasped her shoulder and almost laughed when she burrowed her face farther into Ororo’s warmth. Shit, I know how she feels… Logan roused her from the couch, and Jubilee stumbled back to bed, throwing “G’night, Ororo, it was cool hanging out with you tonight,” over her shoulder.
“Same here, sweetie.” Ororo turned off the DVD player and put the disc back into the case before entering the kitchenette.
“Pull up a chair, Sunshine.” This was it. “The Talk.” Ororo suppressed a shiver as she sat down, watching Logan carefully as he took the opposite seat. She exhaled and met his hazel eyes, full of questions. She hoped she had the right answers, whatever those could be. When she rested her folded hands on the table, Logan gently reached out and plucked one loose, cradling in it in his.
“’Roro, how long have ya been living on yer own since yer husband passed?”
“Over a year. It’ll be two this October. Everyone…everyone told me that the first year would be the worst. The second one hasn’t been a walk in the park,” she scoffed hollowly. Logan stroked her knuckles.
“No shit. It doesn’t get any better with age. Just a little less worse. That boulder that ya feel like someone dropped on ya just feels more like a sack of concrete blocks, instead, as the next few years go by.”
“It’s not just that I miss him, or just that I loved him. It’s just all of the things that I feel like I didn’t say or his needs that I didn’t meet before he was taken away.”
“What kinda needs were those, darlin’?”
“Our relationship got complicated. I know, marriage is complicated, that’s just me being redundant,” she admitted at the faint crinkling of his eyes. “Jonathan and I got a firsthand taste of ‘for better or for worse’ and ‘in sickness and in health’ after he was injured on duty. He went out on a call for a house fire on the outskirts of town, two-story home. Jonathan had already done a sweep of the top floor, but later, he told me something told him to check the master bedroom one more time. He opened the closet door and found a little girl hiding behind the clothes. Obviously she was petrified. She didn’t want to come out into all that smoke, and the room was already filled with it. He managed to get her out, and he called out for a ladder to bring her down. Scott met him halfway, and he’d just handed her down when a beam collapsed and fell on him.” Ororo cleared her throat, pushing down that pricking sensation behind her eyes. “I was home. It was late, and it wasn’t my turn to work the night shift. As soon as the phone rang, I knew something horrible had happened.” Ororo didn’t wipe away the tear that slipped down her cheek. She just stared down at their joined hands.
“Is that when…?”
“No.” Her voice was cracked but determined. “He almost lost his hand and he’d burned is leg pretty badly, third degree burns from the knee down. All I can remember are his eyes, how they looked when I met him at the E/R. He gave me this look, while they were working on him, cutting him out of his gear. They had an oxygen mask over his mouth, and…he actually tried to smile at me! His eyes were so full of terror, and pain, and…and relief, Logan. Once they got him out of danger, he told me he was so damned glad it hadn’t been ME.” Her nose dripped a moment before she wiped it on the shoulder of her top. “And I would have given anything for it to have been me on that stretcher instead of him. It was hell watching him suffer like that. We spent so long in the hospital, admit took a long time for him to regain any use of his hand. Jonathan decided that returning to active duty was something he didn’t have the heart for. I respected his decision. There were other tings he could do. He was HAZMAT certified, he had a lot of experience in environmental safety. But it was still hard.”
“I bet.” Logan scooted his chair around the table next to hers and replaced her hand in his, clasping it in his lap. Her answering smile was wobbly.
“It wasn’t enough for him to want to leave fighting fires behind. He wanted me to give it up, too. Then things got ugly. He’d always been so open and gentle before his injury, and we always understood each other. We would fight, but before there was always a limit, boundaries that we both knew enough not to cross. Every time I suited up, he’d look at me like I ripped his heart out. One night I came home to an empty house.” Logan’s hand paused in stroking her hair; it had been instinctive to want to touch her, comfort her without stopping her from sharing her burden. “He actually left me a note. It said ‘I can’t watch you destroy yourself. I won’t stay and wait around for the day when you don’t make it home.’ Do you want to know why I became a firefighter?” He nodded, brushing away the tear that was snaking its way into the corner of her mouth. “I lost my parents in a fire. Our apartment building went up in a blaze due to a faulty furnace. I was six.”
“God, darlin’. How do you do it? What keeps you going, after something like that?” He looked flummoxed and awed.
“I remember the firewoman who wrapped me up in a blanket and took care of me until the ambulance came. My parents were gone, and I had no home, but she was like this…this angel that came to protect me. And after that, it wasn’t just that I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I wanted to save kids from ending up like me., and do my part to keep people’s lives and dreams from collapsing around their ears, and burning down to the ground. Jon used to understand that about me, and he hated my being so stubborn. After a while, he hated me, too.”
“No, he didn’t.” She stared into his face at his firm tone. “He would have been so pissed off it he didn’t love ya.”
“Sometimes I try to tell myself that,” she murmured weakly. “For a few months, he would come back once in a while to get more of his stuff. We’d fight. That make up. He never filed any paperwork for a divorce. But he had made some steps toward moving on. One day I found an unfamiliar number on his cell phone. And a couple of times I came out of the house to check the mail, and this tiny red car was parked across the street. This woman with black hair and olive skin was sitting there, watching me, but would drive off. Apparently she wasn’t happy that Jonathan had started moving himself back into our home, or back into my life. I caught him arguing into his cell phone with her one night when I went to get a glass of water. He told her cared about her, but that he wanted to give our marriage one more chance. I went from being his wife to being ‘one more chance.’ I screamed at him and knocked the phone from his hand. We scuffled, and before I could read her the riot act, she hung up.
We went through couples counseling for a while. Jonathan was still having some anxiety over his injuries, and he thought I wasn’t as attracted to him anymore. It wasn’t true. I wanted him so badly I ached. There were so many cracks in our relationship that we couldn’t patch them all. I would fill one, and another one would snap wide open. The last straw happened one night over dinner when he asked me about having kids. We had a home, we have two incomes, but mine was the ‘obstacle’ to starting a family. He yelled at me that I was too busy trying to kill myself to start a family with him. So the next morning, I let him kiss me goodbye on his way out to work. I was angry, and I didn’t kiss him back. Jonathan was outside, climbing the ladder to a large fuel drum at the power plant. He was halfway up when it exploded.” Ororo’s cheeks were tracked with tears now, and she didn’t resist when Logan pulled her into his lap. She leaned into his embrace that felt so much like a lifeline. He rocked her. It felt so different from cuddling M’iko, who’d been so petite and took up less space in his lap. But it also felt so right.
“I should have kissed him back,” she whispered into the crook of his neck.
“Don’t beat yerself up.”
“The last memory he had was me being a bitch to him.”
“Uh-uh. The last memory he had was kissing you goodbye.” She sighed and wiped away her tears.
“I had some dark months after he died. Scott and Alex fussed over me like a paid of hens and had to drag me out of the house. That’s how our boys’ nights out started.” Logan smiled at her description of the two big, strapping men as “hens.” She pulled back from him and stroked his stubbled jaw. “I bought Chuckles this year so I wouldn’t have to come home to an empty house. Best decision I ever made! It’s not like having a husband, but he keeps my feet warm at night.”
“Replacing a husband is a tall order to fill,” he remarked carefully. She shook her head.
“I don’t expect anyone to try.” There was nothing cruel in her tone or her eyes.
“Neither do I,” he concurred. He turned his lips into her palm, sealing their agreement.
Chafed by OriginalCeenote
The next few weeks of summer drifted by quicker than Ororo would have guessed. She’d been so busy with the demands of work and the ins and outs of a new relationship that she hadn’t had the time to wish for time to move any faster. It had stood stock still after they’d lowered Jonathan into the ground.
Relationship. That’s what they each called it now. It had started innocently enough in the beginning. One dinner together led to occasional phone calls after her shift was over, a TV/DVD night every now and again, or watching Jubilee play softball. Ororo helped Logan install new smoke and carbon monoxide detectors in his apartment in exchange for making her dinner one night. When Ororo worked night shifts, Logan made sure Chuckles got out for his evening walk, finally reaching an understanding that if Logan kept the pace quick enough and took him for a full-steam jog, then Chuckles had to promise not to wrap him around any telephone poles or mailboxes.
Ororo and Jubilee, strangely enough, bonded in a way that Logan never could have foreseen when he initially introduced them. Jubes had appointed herself his “girlfriend filter and bullshit detector” shortly after Mariko died, and Logan had learned to rely on her instincts. When Logan found his head turned by a stunning rack or sultry pair of bedroom eyes, Jubilee was there to remind him “Her hairdo looks like she spent this month’s rent money on it,” or “I hate to tell you this, but this one laughs like a hyena.”
Logan had also become very, very choosy about who he brought home, mainly because Jubilee lived under his roof. Anyone who shared his bed, particularly a woman who sought to make it into anything more meaningful had to realize that he and Jubes were a package deal. Love me, love my goddaughter. Fast and simple rule.
Even now, Logan chuckled to himself in the kitchen as he listened to Ororo and Jubilee carrying on over their purchases in the living room. They sat on the couch amidst a sea of plastic shopping bags on one of Ororo’s rare, precious days off. Logan stirred the stir-fry in his heavy skillet, adding more black pepper and teriyaki sauce. The rice was already done and covered with a lid on the back burner. The opening music sequence to “Smallville” carried into the kitchenette as Jubilee pawed through the largest shopping bag, producing a big shoebox.
“I’m SO psyched that we got these! I’m taking you with me every time I go shopping for shoes, ‘Ro!” Ororo chuckled at her use of the nickname that kind of came out of nowhere one day. Jubilee talked a mile a minute, only stopping for breath when the need for oxygen became too great to ignore, and Ororo found her name abbreviated to “Ro” one day when Jubilee was in the process of dragging her into the living room one day to watch the MTV Music Awards, and didn’t want to waste any time getting back to the couch. “Ro, ya’ve gotta check this out!!!” Logan marveled at her patience, even her affectionate smile as she sat through the next couple of hours of grating music and guest appearances of celebrities that he couldn’t bother to keep straight himself.
He had found himself grating out that same short, sweet syllable in the throes of another night of passion hours later, and realized that it felt right rolling off of his tongue. He chanted it into her hair, husking it in her ear, whispering it against her heated flesh. “Ro…Ro! Need you, Ro, oh God, come for me!” She responded to her name, to his touch with no reserve, giving all that she had. So it stuck. That was that.
Logan peeked over his shoulder at the shoes that they had bought, wondering to himself what had happened to the daintier, more feminine slipper-style shoes that used to be the fashion, once upon a time. Why did teenage girls have to stomp around in grungy combat boots and orthopedic looking lug-heels? Logan supposed that was the least of his problems, though. At least Jubilee honored his wishes and kept her makeup down to a minimum, but he didn’t reign in her enthusiasm for gaudy blue eye shadow. It beat seeing her in various piercings and come-hither eyeliner and dark lips like some of her peers. The girl had spunk and a youthful spirit that always made him wonder what having a daughter of his own would have been like, had things been different.
As if sensing his thoughts, Ororo smiled over at him and shrugged, murmuring “It was either these, or a pair of platform heels tall enough for her to fall off of. We compromised. And they should last for most of the next two seasons,” she reassured him.
“Works for me,” he grinned back. Logan brought the skillet to the table and set it on a trivet with a serving spoon. Ororo came over to help him, bringing down glasses and mixing a pitcher of instant lemonade. The errant thought crossed her mind that she knew Logan’s kitchen better than her own. It had been unintentional; she’d been spending so much time here that it began to feel like a second home.
When she was home, though, alone, she had more time to ponder things between them in more detail.
He was widowed. Mariko had been the love of his life for many, many years. She was a scholar from a well-off family and had a close relationship with her father before she married Logan. His nationality and career created friction between him and his father-in-law, who resented his daughter’s adamant insistence at marrying a foreigner in the military. Since Ororo had no family left, it at least left that playing field open, but she still sometimes wished that she had more history of herself to share with him. More impressions of herself from people who loved and cared for her to fortify his perception of her. Even just for the little things: Ororo always used to wander off whenever we went to the store, she was such a little stinker. This was Ororo’s prom picture. Ororo only weighed six pounds when she was born, but she had such long feet, we knew she’d be tall…
Ororo maintained a strict personal policy of living out of her suitcase when she left to be with Logan and Jubilee. One, because it felt practical. Two, she didn’t want to be presumptuous. Three, she didn’t want Jubilee to feel as though she were invading her territory and “playing house.” And four…damn it.
And four…if she and Logan shared a closet space, kept their toothbrushes in the same cup, and began holding hands in the produce aisle of the grocery store, they were crossing a point of no return. That strong “connection” between them that had been tugging and pulling at her whenever she thought of him would change into something deeper and so much more complicated. It was those very same complications that twisted her gut into swirling mush: Ororo didn’t want to scare him away.
Jubilee plunked herself next to Ororo and pointed to the screen. “I’m so in love with Tom Welling. Just look at those eyes.” She studied Ororo for a second. “They’re almost the same color as yours. You’re so lucky, Ororo.” That was the other thing; Jubilee had a funny habit of telling her how lucky she was for one thing or another. “You’re so lucky to have a cute dog like Chuckles, we can’t keep one here. You’re so lucky you can drive already. You’re so lucky you can stay up all night.” It was weird seeing her own life through Jubilee’s eyes. Weird, but wonderful.
“They got me a lot of attention that I sometimes didn’t want when I was a kid.” That, and of course her signature white hair.
“Where did you live again?” Jubilee cracked her gum.
“Harlem.”
“Wow. Did kids pick on you or something?”
“Every day.”
“But you’re so pretty.”
“They weren’t in the habit of letting me know that one way or the other, and it made it worse that I didn’t think so, they knew they could use that against me. And high school boys don’t often ask the tallest girl in the gym to dance.” And they hadn’t. Whenever Aerosmith’s “Dream On” came on the radio, Ororo had frustrating little flashbacks to how hard the bleachers felt under her butt when all of the other girls slow-dragged around the floor.
“They were shitheads, then. Sheesh!”
“Language, Jubes,” Logan warned.
“Well, they were,” she whined.
“Yeah, they were. Just watch yer mouth, punkin’.”
That’s nothing I haven’t heard around the fire station, working with a bunch of guys. Ororo beamed at Jubilee and rubbed her arm, appreciating the sentiment behind what she’d said. Logan called them to eat and took a moment to peek at Jubilee’s school clothes and accessories, grunting in approval that they were age-appropriate and practical. He did, however, laugh out loud at the pink T-shirt that said “Boys eat their own boogers.” Logan wondered fleetingly if Mariko would have approved. Yup, she probably would.
After Smallville was over and the dinner dishes were cleared, Ororo sat at the dinette table and patiently allowed Jubilee to experiment with the new barrettes and other booty they’d scored at Claire’s Boutique, combing Ororo’s long white hair and braiding it into plaits of varying thicknesses, securing little butterfly clips and making Ororo feel like a Christmas tree. Logan was jealous at the easy rapport they shared, and craved the feel of Ororo’s hair sifting through his fingers again, free from all the girlish little clips. A faint sensation of heat and tightness pooled in his loins, making his jeans fit more snugly. Ororo looked up at him helplessly from time to time, verbally agreeing with Jubilee “Sure, it probably would look neat with a zigzag part, why not?” even as her cerulean eyes begged him “Help!”
“None of my other friends let me do this with their hair,” Jubes complained, cracking her gum. “I love it when you come over, ‘Ro.”
“Me, too, sweetie,” Ororo replied, her voice full of surprise and feeling. Logan didn’t miss the misty sheen in her eyes and quiver in her smile.
“Soooo,” she continued, and Logan mentally kicked himself for not discussing things with Jubilee sooner, Lord help him, in hindsight, “what if you stayed here? With me and Logan?”
“Uhhh…well, Jubes, that’s not…something we’ve discussed.”
Logan cleared his throat. Loudly. “That ain’t the kind of question ya just dump over a person’s head like a bucket of water, Half-Pint. ‘Ro’s got a home of her own, a dog that needs space. It’s kinda up ta her where she wants ta live, since she’s a grown-up an’ all.” Logan felt prickles of chilly anticipation running down his back, making the hairs on his neck stand on end, which did nothing to alleviate the butterflies in his stomach.
Hoo, boy.
Jubilee prattled on, ignoring the next awkward moments of heavy silence that hung between her godfather and his girlfriend. Ororo winced as Jubilee’s comb snagged on a small tangle of waves. “Ooh, sorry if I hurt ya, ‘Ro. Didn’t mean to. But still, you guys wouldn’t have to always plan out when ‘Ro’s gonna be here, because she just would, already.”
“There’s a little more to it than that…” Ororo hedged. Logan’s eyes were thoughtful. On the one hand, he wanted to rescue her from the onslaught of prying questions.
On the other hand, part of him took great satisfaction and comfort in hearing his little “girlfriend filter” ask all of the really embarrassing questions he’d been too damned gutless to bring up himself. She must have gotten that trait from Yukio, God bless her.
“Well, it’s just nice when you’re here, ‘Ro.” Jubilee didn’t elaborate much, sticking with the easy stuff. “It’s nice having another girl in the house. Especially one who understands the importance of keeping chocolate in the house for emergencies. And Spongebob. Logan’s last girlfriend asked me why ‘everyone’s so crazy about Spongebob,’ as though that was even worth saying out loud. Talk about blasphemy!”
“Shame on her,” Ororo agreed soothingly. Sure, Logan had had other girlfriends prior to the day they met. She didn’t necessarily want the details, but…hearing Jubilee give her the dirt on the ones that Logan allowed to “get away” was fun, in an evil, selfish little way. Ororo tsked at herself and leaned her head to the left to allow Jubilee to select another hank of hair. Logan stifled a laugh as he reached into the refrigerator for a beer, hoping he would only need one to get through the rest of the conversation. Ororo noticed the faint blush that crept into his cheeks as soon as Jubilee uttered “Logan’s last girlfriend.”
It was all downhill after that. Ororo spent the next hour giggling behind her hand as Logan cringed at Jubilee’s unabashed and seemingly endless trotting out of his past relationships “ “Remember that chick that called herself Elektra?” “ and Logan fought the temptation to drink the entire six-pack to anesthetize himself. It wasn’t just his chagrin over having his dirty laundry…well, not filthy, at least…trotted out in front of his current squeeze. It was being forced to examine his past love life, or at least his past flings, that chafed when he realized how far they paled in comparison to what he shared with this funny, intelligent firefighter whose eyes and lips drove him to distraction.
“Think ya gotta get up early in the morning, kiddo. Better let ‘Ro get home ta her puppy. We’ve held her captive long enough.”
“AWWWWWW!”
“I had a ball, kiddo,” Ororo grinned, standing and wrapping Jubilee in a hug that resembled a headlock. Jubilee giggled as Ororo ruffled her spiky pixie cut.
“You guys just want me outta the way so you can do mushy adult stuff.”
“So get outta the way, already!” Logan made broad shooing motions. “BED!”
“I’m going, I’m going. I’m telling Yukiooooo…” she threatened, letting the promised tattling hang in the air. “G,night, ‘Ro,” she tossed back.
“Good night.” Ororo sank back into her chair and looked at her watch. It was late. Logan caught her glance and crossed the room quickly.
“Not so fast,” he muttered, stilling her as she reached for her purse. “Stay. Ya’ve got a few minutes. And I know ya ain’t headed out with yer hair like that,” he pointed out. Ororo chuckled.
“Hey, it’s what all the really cool kids are doing with their hair. I’m making a statement.”
“Namely that you’re a slumber party escapee.” Logan waited for the door to Jubilee’s room to click shut, and he saw the light beaming into the hallway extinguish. He sighed and shook his head in wonder. Yes, the hair was damned silly. But she was so fuckin’ gorgeous that he didn’t care, especially considering how it got that way. It moved him to see Ororo spending time with his goddaughter not to put on a show, but because it really mattered to her to care about them both. Logan dimmed the living room lights and turned off the kitchen switch before he came back to the table. He sat down next to Ororo and nudged her seat over to him, tugging her onto his lap in their customary repose. She smelled so good to him as she leaned down and kissed him, feathering her lips over his before he opened for her, allowing her to take a more thorough taste. His hands kneaded her back and shoulders, massaging away the knots left from walking the galleria all day long. He plunged his fingers into her hair, or what he could of it, in light of the braided clumps getting in the way. “These have gotta come out.”
“Be my guest.” His fingers nimbly threaded through each plait, unwinding the locks and smoothing them out with quick strokes as he placed the tiny hair clips on the table, one after the other. Ororo sighed at the relief of freeing her neck of some of that weight. Her hair felt heavier when it was plaited. She seldom wore it that way anymore as it was, since Jonathan had been gone.
“We should probably talk,” Logan suggested.
“That thought had crossed my mind.” Along with a whole slew of others that were making her heart stutter and bounce around in her chest. Jubilee’s questions and subsequent little tell-all made Ororo tingle in anticipation and pushed her own questions onto her lips. “Logan…is it too early to hang my hat on your hook?”
“Funny way to word it,” he mused, unwinding another plait. He tilted his face up and nibbled her chin. Her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure at the caress.
“I’m no good at this. I’m good at hacking my way into building. Answering the call when someone has a first-thing-in-the-morning heart attack. Saying “Just relax, ma’am, can you remember your name?” That kind of thing I can handle. I’m not good with the hard stuff. The ‘I really care about you and don’t know where to go with this next’ stuff.”
“What makes ya say ya ain’t any good at it? Sounds like ya just summed it up pretty adequately.” He kissed her, stroking her cheek as he stared into her eyes, which were brimming with emotion.
“Humor me here,” she ordered, fighting the urge to kiss him and drag him onto the couch to sum up something else, in greater detail. This was important. We’re a couple of grown-ups. Let’s act grown-up.
“I’m all ears.”
“I’ve always liked that about you.” You’re all heart, too. She loved that about him.
“It felt weird, being put on the spot like that. And it felt crappy, Logan, not having an answer for her back there.”
“Yeah, it did.” Logan remembered searching Ororo’s face for clues, wanting to present a united front of some kind, but…damn. What if they couldn’t? What if they didn’t feel the same? Inwardly he growled at his lack of an answer.
Ororo played with the collar of Logan’s shirt. “If we move in together…well, if we do anything that takes this thing we have to whatever the next level is…I don’t want it to feel crowded.”
“Meaning?” He fought the scowl that threatened to crease his forehead, settling for arching his brow. God, she loved his eyebrows.
Ororo steeled herself. He’s going to hate me for saying this…shit, I almost hate myself. “I don’t want to feel like I’m living with your wife’s ghost. Or you to feel like you’re occupying Jon’s side of the bed when you come to stay with me.” She felt him tense beneath her, the tightness around his mouth instantly cutting through the languor of their embrace. Ruining it.
“And you call that feeling crowded?” His voice wasn’t accusatory. Not yet. Ororo worried the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t expect ya ta give up yer memories of yer husband, Ororo. Ya loved him. I understand that. I loved M’iko.” He still did. He still ached with it. But Ororo had awoken something in him that he felt had died with his gentle, caring wife the day her plane crashed to the ground. Sure, it was hard. Hard not to compare the two women who were as different as night and day, but who might have even approved of each other, had circumstances been different and fate hadn’t given him a swift kick in the balls.
Logan grasped Ororo’s hands and gently unwrapped them from his shoulders. Her pupils dilated as she studied him, and Logan winced at the tiny trembling of her chin. “Yer not competing with my wife. Never think that.”
“No, I ““
“Tell me ya don’t feel like yer competing with her.” He wouldn’t release her hands from his firm grip.
“You tell me I’m not.” This time he didn’t stop her from rising from his lap. His thighs felt the unwanted, cool rush of air when she separated from him. Wait. Don’t. She drank in the stiff set of his shoulders and his knuckles, whitening as he clenched them. “Because that’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t want to just be someone who warms the sheets and who keeps you from being lonely.”
“I’ve got a kid living with me. I’ve got friends, so this ain’t about me bein’ lonely.” His voice was gruff and matter-of-fact. It almost hurt.
“I guess not.” Her tone was soft, and she struggled to keep it steady. “I just want it to mean more to you.”
“Can’t you feel what it means to me? After the time we’ve put into this so far?”
“Maybe you should tell me. I could guess, but I’m not good at that, either.”
“Oh, I think ya are. Yer a smart woman, take a guess. Take yer best shot. How do ya think I feel about us?” She’d backed away a couple of steps, hating her flight response but now nervous as he closed the gap between them, taking her hand and laying it on his chest.
“I think…” She dropped her eyes, but Logan tilted her face up, not letting her hide. “I think…if you feel like I do, that maybe…you care about me.” She nudged it out there. “That we’ve been getting closer and that we have something that’s pretty good.” His grip held her more firmly against him. “Really good,” she amended.
“Close,” he murmured. “But not quite.” A wave of dizziness and gooseflesh swept over her. Please don’t let me be wrong. He ran the tip of his finger down her jaw, attempting to soothe her before things became any more tense.
“Caring about you is the biggest understatement of the year. I can’t wait to get home every night and let ya in my front door. ‘Caring about ya’ isn’t a strong enough description. Not by any stretch. What we have isn’t ‘good.’ No, look at me, ‘Ro, don’t…c’mon, look me in the eye. Again, lady, good’s too small and doesn’t encompass what we’ve got.” Ororo shut her eyes to cut off the tears that were about to spill over her lashes. Don’t get sloppy all over him. He doesn’t need that…that’s emotional blackmail. She inhaled a shaky breath. “Baby, is there something else?”
“What?”
“Is there something getting in the way of ‘us’ for ya that yer not tellin’ me?”
“Yes. Damn it, YES. YES! I still talk to my husband at night!”
Huh?
“Come again?”
“It’s hard…I feel guilty. Guilty, Logan! I come here and it’s like someone flicked my happy switch, and, and I love spending time with you and Jubes and Yukio, and this is the closest to happy that I’ve felt in so long, because I AM HAPPY. So…damned happy.” Her voice practically squeaked, and she felt a tightness in her chest at the roiling confusion in his face.” And it hurts because I’m not…not supposed to be happy with you, am I? I still talk to my husband at night, because some part of me still can’t believe he was taken from me and can’t let go. I hate myself, because…I’m happier than I was with Jonathan, when I’m with you.
Logan released her and stepped back, speechless. His fists clenched and unclenched as he mulled her words. He opened his mouth to say something, then pinched it shut. Damn.
“Logan…” She paused as he stilled her words, pressing his fingertips over her soft lips. She breathed over his fingers and shut her eyes, savoring his touch but still unable to look at him.
“No. I don’t want ya ta feel guilty. Or crowded. Or worry about what ya mean ta me. Sleep on it. We’re not ready for this yet.” It wasn’t a rejection, not really, but that didn’t keep her heart from splintering or cutting her with the shards. Sadly she shook her head and grabbed her purse.”
“Good night.” NOOOOOOO! You IDIOT! Hug him, hold him, tell him you didn’t mean it, tell him you understand how much he cares. Tell him ya LOVE him, for cryin’ out loud!
“G’night, ‘Ro.” Fuck. Fuck, fucketty fuck. Grab her. Don’t let her open the door, don’t let her…
SSSWISSSSH…click. Logan heard her footsteps thudding down the stairs, but his vision was filled with her damp eyes and grimace of pain.
Ororo’s feet felt like lead, every step toward her Jeep taking her farther away from him and killing her in the process. She shuddered, her hands trembling as she fiddled with her car keys, nearly dropping them. What if this was the last time she crossed his doorstep? The night had been going so well, they’d been so happy…how had it all gone so wrong?
“I’m not going to cry about this, I’m NOT going to cry. I’m NOT going TO CRY.” Her car roared to life as she turned the ignition. She sniffled and composed herself as she turned on the radio, pulling neatly out of the lot. No sense getting into a wreck after ruining things with the man she …loved.
“OOOOHHHHHHHHH!” Tears blurred her vision as she banged her fist helplessly against the steering wheel. “Damn it, I said I wasn’t gonna cry…”
Back in his darkened apartment, Logan stared at himself in the mirror over his bureau, scowling at his reflection as if waiting for it to give him the answers.
Logan-sama, what’s wrong?
“I messed up.” Logan raked his hand through his disheveled hair for about the umpteenth time since Ororo walked out the front door. “I totally, royally messed up.”
Hmm. You seem upset. Talk to me. You know you can.
“Maybe that’s part of the problem, M’iko-chan. I just raked the woman I love over the coals because she’s been doin’ the same thing I am right now. I’m pickin’ at the splinter in her eye and squintin’ around the log in my own.”
The woman you love? Logan, if you told her how you feel, then what’s wrong?
“I left out the part where I tell her that I love her.”
Do you?
“Yes. God, yes. I didn’t think I…I didn’t think, baby. You know this hurts, talkin’ about this stuff with you, you know I still…”
I know. Logan closed his eyes and almost felt her light caress, her slender fingers stroking the back of his upper arm in that way that used to make him shiver.I love you too, Logan. So much. One day, you’ll see me again. I haven’t stopped missing you. But I hate to see you so sad. So lonely, if you don’t have to be.
“How’s your dad?”
He’s happy. Finally happy. And he said to tell you he’s sorry. We’ve finally had time to talk, and mend fences. Logan imagined her sweet smile, with a twinkle of mischief in her black eyes. He also said that he didn’t really mean it when he called you a worthless gaijin bastard. He was just mad that you took his baby away.
“Tell him I don’t blame him, then.” Logan sank down to the mattress. “Miss you, M’iko.”
Miss you, too.
“M’iko…was it a boy or a girl?” His voice caught. Always the same question mercilessly haunting him on bad nights, nagging him during good.
A bright and beautiful boy with your smile, Logan-sama. Don’t cry for him, he’s known no pain and nothing but joy. My father adores him. He pictured her smile again, this time more cunning. He grudgingly admits that some of his grandson’s good qualities came from you.
“Thank him for the vote of confidence. I’m so flattered.” His gruff laugh was tinged with pain.
Knew you would be. Logan?
“Yeah, M’iko?”
Hug Jubilee for me. And while you’re at it, it sounds like Ororo’s very special. Go after her and grab her with both hands.
Logan’s throat choked with feeling. “Never been one ta argue with a pretty lady, especially when she’d never done me wrong.”
Good. Good night, love.
*****
Ororo reached over and slapped the buzzer on her alarm clock. Four-thirty. Up and at ’em. She dragged herself over to the bathroom to relieve herself and start the shower, making the mistake of looking at herself in the medicine cabinet mirror as she reached for the spigot. “Gads, I look like crap.” That’s what a sleepless night of arguing with herself would do. There was no help for it.
Not unless she stopped fighting it. She loved James Logan Howlett more than her life.
Chuckles even knew something was amiss as soon as she flung herself inside her house and kicked off her shoes, sending them flying haphazardly into the corner. As soon as she flopped onto her bed and rolled onto her stomach, her puppy nosed her arm and hopped next to her, curling himself protectively against her as she tried to sort out her thoughts. He was the best damned dog…
Penny for your thoughts.
“They aren’t worth a plugged nickel. A plugged, counterfeit nickel.” It was their favorite joke.
Jonathan sat beside her on the floor, studying her with deep, dark, thoughtful eyes. So what’s new, then? You look like someone rained on your parade.
“I’m an idiot.”
Hm. Say how you really feel, don’t hold back…
“No, I really, REALLY was a big, fat idiot, with a capital ‘dumb ass.’ I told myself I wouldn’t do this again…”
Do what again, sweetheart?
“Play the same games. Push away someone when I finally begin to care. Make the same mistakes that I made with you.” Ororo sniffled and wiped away the fresh flood of tears that were making her cheeks feel clammy and sticky.
What mistakes? You made yourself pretty clear. Not your fault that I didn’t want to listen to what you were trying to tell me.
“What, that I was too selfish to want to change? To work harder at what we had? You wanted a family. You loved me, I loved you; there was nothing getting in the way of that except me.”
Hate to interrupt you when you’re trying to beat yourself up, babe, but I seem to remember that fighting fires and saving lives was something you worked for from the word ‘go.’ That was one of the things that I loved about you. I still love that about you. I was in awe of you.
“I drove you away…”
No. I ran away. Yeah, I was mad. At you, at us, at life. But look at me now, I’m all better. See? Jon held his hand out, turning it this way and that. No scars. No puckered skin. I’ve even been working on my two-step. I miss painting the town red with you, babe. How’re Scott and Alex?
“Still fussing over me like hens. Gotta love ‘em.”
Hnh. Yeah. Jonathan considered something for a moment. Ororo, do they still keep that reindeer I welded out of scrap metal?
“We take it out and put it outside the station house every Christmas. And we hoist and eggnog to ‘Forge,’ the guy who kept the station running like a top, God bless him…” her voice trailed off as she buried her face in her pillow. Chuckles whined in his throat at her distress. Ororo could almost feel Jon running his hand over her tangled hair to soothe her, but the hint of amusement in his voice surprised her. What’s with the butterfly clips? Looks like you came from a slumber party.
Ororo snorted as she collected herself. “That would be leftovers from my little hairdressing experiment. Jubilee’s doing. You’d love her, Jonathan.”
You sure do. Ororo removed the stray hair clip and cradled it in her palm. And if my guess is correct, you love this Logan guy a lot, too, huh?
“Jonathan…”
C’mon, no sense in denying it, you’d be lying to a dead man, and that’s not polite. You’ve never lied to me, you know. Don’t start now.
“I should have tried harder to make us work.”
That was a two-way street. And I seem to remember you body-checking me into the refrigerator to get my phone out of my hand. Sorry I hurt you.
“Sorry I hurt you.”
Apology accepted. So, we okay?
“I think so.”
Good. Because it’s time for you to move on. Remember how long you made me wait before you finally gave in and said yes when I kept asking you out? MONTHS. It was frigging torture.
“Geez.”
Sure, act innocent, missy! Jonathan’s lips curled beneath his mustache, and Ororo remembered that twinkle in his dark eyes that always turned her into goo. It was almost comforting now. Don’t make this guy wait, Ororo. Go get ‘im.
“How will I know when I’m ready?”
You were already halfway there the day you gave up the name Silvercloud, Ororo. You took back that little bit of yourself once I was gone. It’s time to share it with him.
“Miss you.”
Miss you, too.
“So, this is it?”
Yup. It’s probably for the best. Every once in a while, Raven and I still talk, too. And she admitted last night that my memories of you were making her feel ‘crowded,’ whatever that meant…you women. Geez.
Ororo’s laugh was strangled and harsh. She shook her head in defeat.
*****
Things didn’t look much better during the light of day. Her conversation with Logan didn’t just magically “unhappen.” At least today she just had a couple of school field trips scheduled to kill time. What happened after that…Ororo toyed with the idea of calling him, but she had no idea of how to put things right. No sense in putting her foot in her mouth. Again. Ororo laughed mirthlessly at the mental image she got of herself trying to mumble something to Logan around her toes…get to work, Munroe.
Ororo yanked open the refrigerator door and searched for anything edible that could be carried and eaten out the door without utensils, still cursing herself for not getting groceries sooner. Her eyes lit upon the bottle of Starbucks frappaccino tucked away in the door. She reached for it and smiled a sad little smile. Ororo grabbed her keys and headed out, kissing Chuckles’ furry head and promising him an brisk jog when she came home. She filled his food and water dishes and locked up, glancing at Logan’s spare key dangling from the ring. It winked up at her, reminding her of unfinished business.
Two hours later:
“Who wants to tell me what this is? Anyone?” A flurry of raised, wildly waving hands and “ooh., ooh, me, MEEEE-EEEE!’s greeted her question as Ororo pointed to the chubby-cheeked five-year-old who was using one hand to hold up her waving arm. She really means it, Ororo chuckled.
“How about you, what did we call this?” Ororo held up the SCBA by its harness.
“An ay-ew pack!” she answered brightly. Her blue eyes were bright and intelligent, and Ororo admired her spotless pink gingham dress and strawberry blonde pigtails. Even her lisp was cute.
“An airpack! Right! Someone was listening! Now, why do firefighters wear these big, funny helmets?” Ororo’s stock quiz questions rolled off of her tongue. The kids were so dang cute. It was nice to give these presentations for an audience of excited preschoolers that were interested in hearing about the mundane aspects of her job, and about the dangerous responsibilities that they could relate to their parents in breathless detail when they got home.
The next twenty minutes were spent letting each child aim the hose on low blast to spray a stretch of the parking lot. That was always the highlight. Their teacher snapped souvenir Polaroids of each child, grinning from ear to ear. Ororo beamed in contentment as she hefted a section of hose to hold it steady. Sometimes she really loved her job.
Slowly the children filed back into their line. A tinkling female voice stopped Ororo as she was loading the spare outer gear back into the rig. “Excuse me, we haven’t met, but I saw you one day this summer at the rest stop where I get my gas, and I meant to say hello back then.”
“Hi. I’m Ororo Munroe.”
“I know. Actually, Jubilee mentioned you. She comes over sometimes to spend time with my oldest daughter, Julie. This is Katie, my youngest. Say hello to Miss Munroe, Katie.” She shook her hand in a friendly grip. “And I’m Margaret Power. Call me Peg.”
“Hi, I’m five yews old. I knew what an ayew-pack was.” Ororo smothered a giggle at that cute lisp.
“It’s nice to meet you, Katie.”
“Miss Mun-Woe, are you Mistew Wogan’s goo-wel-fwend?” Ororo felt a flood of color rush into her cheeks and choked.
“Er…Mister Logan and I are very, very good friends.”
“Katie, it’s not nice to be nosy.”
“Jube-a-wee said Mistew Wogan has a fyew-lady friend with pwetty white hay-ew that bwings movies ovew to watch. She said she’s vewy nice,” she finished with a flourish, as if she was an authority on such things. Mrs. Power covered her face helplessly, mouthing “I’m SO sorry” over her daughter’s head. Ororo smiled broadly in spite of herself.
“Well, that’s a very nice thing to say, sweetie. I think you’re very nice, too, and very smart. What a big girl!” she exclaimed.
“We’d better let Miss Munroe get out of here, sweetie. Stop by the shop, when you’re in the neighborhood. I own the juice bar over by Mac’s.”
“I’ll look you up,” she promised. If she was in the neighborhood…that felt so loaded. Not unlikely, but loaded. She nearly dropped the coil of hose that she was winding back onto the spool as a familiar voice growled behind her “When are ya gonna look me up?”
“MISTEW WOGANNNN!” Katie launched herself at his legs. “Yaaaay!”
“Ooof…ya sure are getting big, little lady.” Logan ruffled her hair as she stared adoringly at him, showing her gap-toothed grin.
“Mistew Wogan, is Miss Munwoe yew-ah go-wel-fwend?”
“Katie…let’s just go. Don’t mind her,” Mrs. Power hedged.
“I don’t’ mind at all,” he reassured her. “I’ll see ya later, kiddo.” He tweaked her nose before her mother led her away, smiling back as she waved wildly over her shoulder.
“Got a minute, Miss Munroe?”
“I can make one. Maybe even a few.” Ororo scanned the school parking lot and spotted his pickup nearby. He took her hand, noting the tension in her grip and cursing his part in putting it there. But it still felt good holding her soft, cool hand in his. They reached the truck, and Logan leaned back against it, pulling Ororo close enough to lift her hand and lay it against his chest. He gently stroked the backs of her fingers.
“Did someone at the station tell you that I was here?”
“Yup.”
“Oh.” She glanced at her feet, then let her eyes roam most of the way back. She studied his mouth. Anything to not have to look him in the eye yet. She wasn’t ready. “This sounds pretty crummy and ungrateful, but why did you come?”
“There was something I forgot to do last night before you left.”
“What?”
“Kiss my girlfriend good night. It’s kinda become a habit.” His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her against him now. His other hand cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “And I’m not good at breaking my usual routine.” He felt the slight resistance in her arms relax as her hands crept up his chest.
“I’m still your girlfriend?”
“Oh, yeah.” He watched hungrily as her tongue darted out to lick her lips.
“Well. Who am I to break a man of a habit like that?”
“As long as you don’t try to break it, then you’re my girlfriend, plain and simple.” She lowered her mouth to his and slowly, sweetly undid the past night’s wrongs as she drank in his taste, his familiar heat. She could have sworn his hand trembled as he caressed her cheek.
“There’s certain benefits involved in this whole girlfriend thing that I didn’t get ta mention last night, either, darlin’.” She teased the crown of his cheekbone with her lips as he reached into his pocket.
“Like what? Turning down the covers and leaving me a mint on my pillow?” She leaned her forehead against his.
“I was thinking more along the lines of doing away with the checkout time.” Logan handed her the brand new, light blue Reach toothbrush with flecks of blue glitter in the handle, still in its packaging. “Will you move in with me?”
Cold Concrete by OriginalCeenote
Ororo stretched and twisted amidst the tangled covers, listening to her joints snap, crackle and pop. The buttery morning light streamed in through her bedroom window, telling her she had slept in later than she had planned. She rolled over the other side of the bed and patted the empty pillow. Lukewarm. He’d been up for a while. Slowly she sat up and planted her feet on the cool hardwood floor boards and contemplated the day. This was one of her rare days off, and she planned to enjoy it.
“Chuckles?” Ororo reached for her short, light blue terry cloth robe and wrapped herself in it on the way into the kitchen. “Puppy? Logan?” She wandered into Jubilee’s room, peering inside for signs of life. “Jubes?” Empty. Hunh.
Sighing, Ororo returned to the kitchen. She felt the coffee pot and smiled; it was still nice and hot. She rummaged in the surprisingly crowded cupboards and tracked down the mug that was currently her favorite, a souvenir cup with Logan’s name on it that he’d gotten from a trip to Las Vegas. Unpacking and consolidating all of their kitchen items had been an adventure. Ororo had a surprisingly pitiful number of kitchen appliances and utensils, while Logan and Jubilee had accumulated a plethora of mismatched dishes from the usual wear and tear of moving around a lot and losing the occasional dish to the “accidents” that happened when there were too many elbows butting up against each other in a tiny kitchenette, bucking for room.
At least the house didn’t look like a train wreck, for which she was utterly grateful. The garage sale wore her out, even though Logan thoughtfully provided them with folding club chairs and a hook-on sun umbrella as they attempted to get their labeled prices on the surplus of goodies gleaned from combining two households into one. Ororo smiled to herself as she reached for the coffee creamer. Despite Logan making the offer that day at the school, she’d been the one to convince him that moving into her house was actually a better idea. She had a little more space, even though her home featured the same number of bedrooms, but at least she had a small yard for Chuckles to call his own, and she lived on a quiet street, away from the main road and traffic that rushed past Logan’s store everyday. Jubilee had discovered the kids in the neighborhood, pronouncing them “kinda cool” and spent most of her time visiting with the tall, olive-skinned daughter of the St. Croix family down the block. The two of them argued like sisters.
It had been a lot to absorb all at once, and Ororo was still reeling from the feeling of her previously quiet home being “occupied” again. Once she and Jubilee had a short chat about the volume of her music, Ororo decided she didn’t mind it at all as the sounds of Coldplay, Kelly Clarkson and Evanescence drifted down the hall to her living room every night as she let herself in the front door. Ororo’s Jeep and Logan’s pickup made for a tight fit in the two-car garage. They were already planning another yard sale.
What made it all real for Ororo was the day that she and Logan had taken Jubilee to the bed and bath store at the galleria to outfit her new bedroom. It had started out simply enough. “Ororo, you totally ROCK! This is so cool, this is too cool! AAAAHHHH!” Ororo watched the frenetic jumping and dancing, complete with emphatic shrieks and hugs that bruised with a feeling of deep satisfaction. They piled into Logan’s pickup and Jubilee peppered Ororo with questions about what colors should she pick, could she get a lava lamp, maybe they could paint the walls?
Ororo and Logan followed Jubilee as she practically left a smoking trail out of the parking lot into the store, holding hands as they selected a shopping cart. They walked shoulder to shoulder through the store, following Jubes as held up various accessories and began chucking them into the cart at Ororo’s nods of approval.
That’s when it happened.
“Ohmigod! Just LOOK at these satin sheets!”
“Not on your life.” They’d spoken in unison, like something out of a bad sitcom. Ororo turned to face Logan, her smile incredulous.
“What did we just do?” Jubilee rolled her eyes and placed the ostentatious pink bedding back on the rack.
“Nothin’ darlin’, ‘cept prove we’re on the same page.”
“Are we?”
“Oh, yeah.” Logan lifted her hand to his lips and nibbled her knuckles. Ororo made a low sound in her throat like a purring cat. The two of them watched Jubilee peruse the lighting section, ooh’ing and aah’ing over the sconces, just enjoying the peaceful feeling that this was right.
Ororo could have sworn she heard a ticking sound…and then realized it was her biological clock.
Ororo was peering into her refrigerator for the loaf of bread and jam when she heard the click of the front door, followed by yips and claws scrabbling over the floor. “Sounds like my baby came home!” Ororo sang, setting down her coffee as she trotted to greet him. Logan brought the scent of fresh air inside with him as he shrugged out of his denim jacket and unfastened Chuckles’ leash. Ororo took both items from him and allowed him to haul her against him for a good morning kiss. He devoured her lips hungrily, groping her hips and grinding himself into her softness. Ororo moaned into his mouth, “Morning, sweetie.”
“Mornin’,” he greeted, kicking the door shut and wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her back to the bedroom. His lips trailed over the heated column of her neck. She still smelled like sleep, and that sweet little ‘Ro smell that he couldn’t get enough of. Letting her sleep in undisturbed, even while he ached to peel the covers away from her body and make love to her in the burgeoning morning light, had been worth it for this. He never grew tired of this, her natural, uninhibited response.
Logan sat Ororo down on the bed and began unfastening the buttons on his flannel, but Ororo stopped him, her hands stilling his fingers as she pried them away. “Let me.” She tugged him closer, making him stand between her knees as she worked on the buttons, one by one, staring up into his eyes. He nearly leaped out of his skin at the feel of her lips against his flesh as she kissed his washboard stomach once it was bare. Teasingly her tongue dipped into his navel, tracing its shape as she lowered his shirt, caressing his exposed flesh with searching, reverent hands. Logan drew in a shaky breath as she jerked open the snap over his fly and tugged down the zipper pull with her teeth. Her breath swirled out from her lips, steaming him as she nudged his jeans down, letting them pool around his ankles. Her fingers threaded themselves under the waistband of his boxers and tugged, freeing his bobbing erection, nearly poking her in the mouth. Good Lord, that mouth…
“Shit! ‘Ro,” he hissed as her fingers gently sheathed him and led the plump head into her waiting kiss. His cry was ragged and triumphant. Her mouth was hot and wet and felt like a bit of heaven on earth. Logan nearly lost his balance, but Ororo anticipated as much and reached back to stroke and cup his ass, holding him immobile as she welcomed him home. Reflexively Logan’s hips jerked and flexed with the pace of Ororo’s mouth. Her tongue swirled wickedly around him, stroking him lovingly and dragging desperate promises from Logan of what was to come. He shuddered as she sighed and moaned her approval around his flesh.
Waking up…was a good thing.
“Uuunungggh…’Ro! Geez, that’s…so…uuuurrrgggh.” His fingers tangled in her hair, trying to bring her closer, reveling in the sensations and her attention to his pleasure. She caressed his lean, taut hamstrings and engulfed him, bringing him halfway between pleasure and pain before Logan broke free, nearly tripping out of his crumpled jeans and short.
“Your turn!” he growled, grabbing Ororo’s wrist and tugging her to stand flush against him. He slanted his mouth over hers over and over, his hands fumbling with her robe’s sash. He pulled back just long enough to unwrap her like a present, taking in the vision of her long, luscious curves draped in the delicate white satin nightgown that reached mid-thigh. Scalloped lace trimmed the neckline and made a striking contrast to her breasts, their rounded slopes rising gloriously and tantalizingly over the edge, beckoning him. He heeded their call, gently pulling the spaghetti straps down her slender arms, exposing the first one for a taste. The cool air of the room washed over her skin as her nightgown drifted the rest of the way to the floor, and Ororo was overwhelmed by the heat of Logan’s hands, his lips and tongue as he stroked and suckled her.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded as she clutched handfuls of his thick, silky hair. His erection was thick and firm against her belly, sandwiched between them as she moaned and writhed against him. She wanted him. Badly. It was too much. They half-tripped, half-tumbled back into the bed, and Logan covered her body with his own as he once again claimed her mouth.
“Want you.”
“Mmmmm. Want (kiss) you. Mmmmm. PLEASE…”
“Damn. Aw, God! Ya feel so damned…GOOD!”
The mattress springs squeaked and the headboard slammed into the wall with the force of their mating as they shattered the silence of the morning, filling the room with their soaring cries and desperate words.
“Please…PLEASE, LOGAN, don’t STOP! GODDESS! I LOVE YOU! LoveyouloveyouLOVE YOU!” A light exploded behind her eyes as she embraced him, gripping him as close as she could as she found her fulfillment. Logan felt the world tilt on its axis through the haze of his own encroaching climax, and for one moment, his eyes probed hers, staring at her as if he had never seen her before.
“What - ?” His body brooked no delays or discussion in the matter. The throbbing pressure built up within him, stiffening him, hurtling from him in a release that rocked them both. Ororo tightened around him, renewing her own spasms and making her cry his name. Her fingernails scored his back, and she sank her teeth into his shoulder, pushing him that final inch over the edge. “AAAARRRGGGGGHHHHHhhhhhh!” His head collapsed, and he nuzzled the crook of her neck, struggling to pull air into his lungs. Ororo’s arms never released him, but she loosened her grip long enough to adjust him, tucking his head beneath her chin. Tenderly she stroked him, exploring the play of muscles along his back. He twitched when she tickled the nape of his neck; she kissed the top of his head in apology and smiled.
“Ro?”
“Mm-hm?”
“Would ya mind going over the last bit with me again, when ya said ya loved me?” Logan felt her chest shake with the beginnings of a chuckle.
“Gladly.” He levered himself up onto his elbows, framing her face with his hands. Her beautiful eyes glowed with feeling. “I love you. I absolutely, positively love you silly. Without a doubt.” She feathered her fingertips over his lips. He closed his eyes, savoring the caress, and his mouth dropped open to taste her. “Did you need me to clarify anything else?”
“Uh-uh. That summed it up pretty damned well.” He kissed her palm, darting out his tongue to sample her soft flesh. He nibbled a path down the pulse in her wrist and along her inner arm, dragging his tongue over the crown of her shoulder.
Ororo arched beneath him as he found her neck. Dimly she recalled that she had gotten out of bed for some reason, but it escaped her now. “And ‘Ro?”
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“In case ya were wondering, I’m in love with you, too. So damn much.” His tone had been cavalier at first, but now it was choked with feeling.
“It’s out there. You can’t take it back.”
“Never. God help me, never. Everything I have, ‘Ro. Just like you told me that first night. I love you,” he declared, kissing a path down her cheek, “with everything that I have to give.” She returned his kiss, drinking him in, and he gave up trying to use words to express what his body could best convey.
The next few weeks brought cooler autumn nights and a busy sophomore year of high school for Jubilee. Ororo and Logan were outside, hanging the storm windows and watching Chuckles chase down a squirrel.
“That’s one stubborn dog,” Logan mused. Ororo handed him the screwdriver and smiled at her lab’s antics.
“Gotta love him. Might as well let him out as much as we can, while we can. Last winter was harsh.” Ororo shuddered as she remembered three feet of unshoveled snow packed against her front door, effectively barring any easy exit during the previous winter’s first blizzard. The two of them were winter-proofing the house and cars, putting on snow tires, insulating window cracks, and changing their wardrobes around, unpacking sweaters and long pants. None of them were Ororo’s favorite chores, but Logan’s presence cheered her considerably. It always felt good to work on their home together. She wanted him to feel like it was “their home.”
Logan just watched her, bending to bring him the toolbox, admiring the view. Ororo was dressed in his old black T-shirt and a pair of snug, faded jeans with a hole in the knee, with a pair of women’s Reebok cross trainers on her feet. The sun was riding lower in the sky and winking through the trees, setting her hair ablaze. She caught his stare and smiled at the look of intensity in his hazel eyes. “What’re you looking at?”
“Yer so fuckin’ beautiful.” He closed the distance between them in two strides and kissed her soundly in front of the neighbors. Ororo dropped the tool box, sending screwdrivers flying here and there, moaning in his embrace. Ororo nearly bit Logan’s lip in surprise as heard a familiar voice coming up the front walk.
“See, I told you, Monet, these two are SO embarrassing! They even get all mushy in the front yard!” Jubilee watched the spectacle with her hands on her hips. Ororo cleared her throat and smiled, blushing all the way to her hairline. Jubilee’s partner-in-crime just rolled her eyes.
“Thank God my parents don’t do that.” Jubilee dragged her into the house to hunt in her room for her new CD.
“Her folks don’t know what they’re missing out on,” Logan grumbled into Ororo’s neck as hugged her from behind. Ororo just smiled, one out of many more that day.
After they went back inside, Logan moved around the kitchen, looking for the saucepan and pulling some chicken from the freezer. Ororo was scheduled to work the night shift, and he wasn’t likely to see her again until it was time for him to open the store. Yukio helped solve the problem of leaving the rental office unmanned during the evenings by subletting his old apartment above the store, but he still made a point of being there for early morning inventory and ordering new stock.
For the past few weeks, Logan toyed with the idea of selling Yukio the property itself and keeping his portion of the business. He and Ororo had taken that first plunge: Cohabitation. Keeping an apartment in his name could be seen in one of two ways. Practical, or noncommittal. Ororo had never pressured him to sell, but she was almost too easygoing about keeping it, too. The last thing Logan wanted to do was make Ororo think he was holding onto a “Plan B.” He loved her. Jubes loved her. And there was the little matter of expanding their little combined family that he wanted to discuss in more detail. That urge grew stronger whenever Ororo and Jubilee spent time together around the house, looking less like two pals who were birds of a feather, and more like mother and daughter every day. At first it was just the little things. Jubilee hung over Ororo’s shoulder and occupied the same space whenever they watched TV, or Ororo wrestled with her checkbook and Jubilee waffled with homework. Eventually, Logan was shocked to find that he’d been nudged back into the second string. Ororo had become Jubilee’s confidante about everything from a broken nail to the boy whose locker she was tempted to drop a note into, and whether he was likely to call.
Logan sighed as he tucked the pack of chicken breasts into the microwave and hit “thaw.” It was easy enough for him to guess why Jubilee had taken to Ororo so quickly. She was funny, smart, enthusiastic, warm, open and honest, and she was one of the few people that truly understood what it was like to lose both parents at a young age, especially under such tragic circumstances. Not to mention her affinity for cartoon characters and fart jokes…that pried a smile out of him. But the one thing impression that lingered with Logan so much lately was watching Ororo when she thought he wasn’t looking: She looked vulnerable, loving and fiercely loyal, and there was a yearning there that he could almost swear she shared with him.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think Ororo wanted a child. In light of where her relationship with Jonathan had left off, Logan knew it was a sticky subject.
Logan turned when he heard the thump of Ororo’s boots in the hall. He paused in filling the saucepan and turning on the back burner. “Ya takin’ off already, babe?”
“Time got away from me. I’m getting an early start to help Alex with one of the rigs. This is a tricky season, too. People tend to burn more brush, leaves and clippings from their yards, so we get more frequent calls for outdoor fires that got out of hand. Wish I could stay,” she pouted, rubbing his cheek. He smiled at the petulance in her tone.
“Lemme pack ya a sandwich. Yer gonna miss dinner.” He hated when that happened. Especially when she subsisted on stuff from the taco truck or convenience stores when she was away from home, when she had the chance to eat at all. She’d admitted to him that she went through a phase of forgetting to eat most of the time after Jonathan passed away. Logan remembered his own clothes hanging on him for a while after he buried Mariko. After so many years in the military, it felt strange, but not unwelcome, falling into such a domestic routine. Face it, buddy, yer whipped.
“You’re spoiling me.”
“Nah. It’s yer turn ta take out the garbage, darlin’.”
“Aha! An ulterior motive. And I’ll do that on my way out.” She patted his butt mischievously and kissed his jaw. Logan snickered and searched for the bread and cold cuts. Moments later, Ororo’s dinner was packed and dangling from her wrist in a vinyl Hello Kitty lunch sack- which ensured that no one at the station would steal her food from the fridge, since she worked with a bunch of guys “ as she kissed Logan goodnight at the door.
“Quit stallin’ an’ get ta work,” he ordered, steaming her lips and tugging on her ponytail.
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’, sheesh.” (Smooch.) “Love you.”
“Love you.”
Shortly:
“Bout time you got here, Munroe!”
“Hey, Summers.” Ororo checked the wall clock, noting that she was ten minutes early.
“Forget you had to come in tonight?” Scott pretended to check his watch.
“Ignore him, ‘Ro. He’s just getting off of his own shift, aren’t ya, Slim?”
“She’s finally dragging her lazy butt in here, she doesn’t have to know that!” Scott reached out to drag Ororo back as she attempted to walk past him, wrapping his arm around her neck in a mock headlock. “Not so fast, Missy!”
“Leggo!” Ororo balled up her fist and aimed for his kidneys.
“AL! A little help, bro!” Alex craned his neck over the top of the couch, grinning at the spectacle of Ororo jabbing Scott in whatever unprotected areas that she could reach.
“Shame on you, ‘Ro, quit pickin’ on Scott!” Scott and Ororo scuffled across the floor in the latest of a series of impromptu grudge matches that had become a tradition at the firehouse.
“Say uncle!”
“I’ve got your uncle right here!”
“Geez…oooh! Slim…Slimmmm, I’d watch your waistband if I were you “ DANG! Nuclear wedgie! Haven’t seen one of those since ninth grade!”
“It’s called a fire house; you know, a place of employment, i.e., somewhere you get fired from for inappropriate conduct?” Ororo and Scott straightened up and separated, stifling grins, but not before Scott reached out to give Ororo’s braid one last yank. “Hey!” He ducked out from her brandished fist as Alex shook his head.
“Munroe…?”
“Sorry, Chief.” Ororo glared at Scott past Chief Lucas Bishop’s shoulder before heading to the break room refrigerator. Lucas didn’t buy her look of contrition for a moment and waved her away. Honestly, those two fought like siblings…Alex followed her back, leaning against the doorframe as she cleared a spot on the shelf for her pack.
“Jubilee pack your lunch?”
“Nope.”
“At least it would have explained the bag.”
“Hey, don’t diss the bag.”
“Guess I’m just impressed that you packed anything.”
“Logan packed it for me.” Alex rocked back on his heels.
“And I thought lightning didn’t strike twice! You actually found another man that cooks?” Ororo made a face. “Ya hit the friggin’ jackpot!”
“Don’t think he doesn’t accuse me of liking him so much for that very reason.”
“What else does he have to recommend him?” Alex’s eyes were expectant but warm.
“I wouldn’t know where to begin, Al.”
“You got off to a running start with mentioning that he can cook, which you hate to do, if your first-name relationship with the guy at Subway is anything to go by. Convince me.”
Ororo made a disgusted noise and crossed her arms. “Excuse me! Why do I have to convince you?” Alex reached up and smoothed his hand over his short blond hair, rubbing his neck in a timeless gesture of concern as he watched her.
“Cause yer my bud. And because you had a little dry spell for a while when it seemed like you didn’t want to let anybody in. I know you pretty well by now, ‘Ro. Shacking up isn’t something I see you entering into lightly.”
“I didn’t go into it lightly.” Ororo uncapped her frappaccino and took a generous gulp, enjoying the kickstart of caffeine. “I walked into it with my eyes wide open, Alex. And I like what I see. Logan’s a good man. And Jubilee’s a great girl.”
“Is she part of the attraction?” Ororo almost choked on her drink and blinked up at him with wary eyes.
“Part of the attraction?”
“If you guys take things to the next level, you’ve got a ready-made family.”
“Your point being…?”
“You’ll have a kid. Maybe not the old-fashioned way, but that’s still someone to worry about you when your out on a call who depends on you. You’ll be responsible for her, too. You ready to take that on?”
“The idea’s crossed my mind, Alex. I’m not the only one making an adjustment, though, y’know. We’re comfortable right now. We’re in a good place. I’m not jinxing it by jumping too far ahead. I love Jubilee, but technically, I’m not her mother…”
“Not yet.”
“…not yet. And I’m not Logan’s wife, either.” As her own words settled in her ears, Ororo’s eyes took on a faraway look. I’m not Logan’s wife. What was that weird little pang she was feeling?
“Hm.” Alex fiddled with the change in his pocket and perused the vending machine offerings.
“Hm? Whaddya mean, ‘Hm?’”
“Nothing.” Alex fed some coins into the machine and opened the drawer for the V8 juice.
“No, that ‘hm’ was something.”
“Okay.” He took a long pull from his juice can. “I think you wanna marry this guy, and I think you’re too chicken shit to take the plunge.”
“That was blunt.”
“Thanks.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.” Alex held up his open hands in supplication, shrugging.
“I calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.”
“Logan’s a good man.” Ororo took a different tack, unsure of why she was arguing. “He’s helpful, funny, smart as a whip, he’s his own man, he’s a damn good father figure to Jubes, sensitive, deals well with my panic attacks ““
“You still have those?”
“Not so much anymore. Not since he moved in.” A smile drifted onto her lips.
“Well, there ya go.”
“I like that I can be myself around him.”
“And how’s that?”
“Human. Flawed. All those tricky, pesky feelings that aren’t just PMS.”
“Gads! Ya HAD to say the ‘P’ word!”
“I love him, Alex.”
“Fine. Good. If all that’s true, then I don’t blame you. Now that you’ve convinced me, the only one left to convince is you.” Alex left before she could come up with a rejoinder, saluting her as he went to clock out.
Dawn the next day:
Ororo shrugged out of her pullover as she entered the foyer, smiling at the sound of Chuckles’ collar jingling as he met her at the door. “Hey, puppy! Wanna walk? Huh? Walkies?” Ororo trudged into the kitchen, drained but glad to be home.
“Sure you’re up to it, babe? Ya look beat.”
“I can head back to bed once I get back. Long night,” she sighed, kissing Logan good morning in the dim light of the kitchen. Faint streaks of pink invaded the sky as Logan studied her, doing a quick once-over that had become a routine. He leaned in and inhaled the scent of her hair. No smoke. Her skin was still clean, no smudges or scrapes. Her overtrousers were clean with no rips or tears.
“Any calls?”
“Yup. Two heart attacks and a call from one woman whose gas range wouldn’t quit making that clicking noise that you get when you ignite a burner. There was a short in the panel.” Ororo sighed. The first call had left her with that tight little feeling in the base of her skull. When she came up to the front door and was let in with her medical kit, her eyes scanned the living room, noticing all of the framed photographs. That quick glance told her this was the home of a couple that had been married for many years, and that they were proud as hell of their grandkids. A woman who looked to be their daughter greeted her and led her into the living room.
“He was fine one minute, then clutched his chest and got really gray. Dad’s complaining about shortness of breath.”
“His arm hurts, too, that’s what he said before he fell,” came the tearful voice from the floor. An older, more florid version of the woman who answered the door looked at Ororo with desperate eyes. “He took his blood pressure pill this morning, and he seemed like he was fine after dinner.” Ororo nodded in understanding as she dug in her kit for the blood pressure cuff. The man was watching her with surprisingly patient eyes.
“You…don’t look like any firefighter I’ve ever seen.” A wracking cough followed this admission before Ororo’s smile could fully blossom. “You’re…a real looker. Isn’t she, Gladys?” His pallor was still poor, and his breathing became stertorous.
“Relax, sir. Just let me slip this over your face, this should help you to breathe a little better in a minute.” Ororo thanked her partner for the cannula, which she slipped into place, inserting the ends in his nostrils. The faint whistling of oxygen filled the tiny living room as neighbors began to fill the street, drawn to the rainbows of light spinning from the engine’s siren outside.
“Please…” His wife had her hand fisted against her mouth, hugging herself with her other arm as her daughter lent her support. “I don’t…want to think of living…living without…”
“It’s okay, ma’am. The ambulance is on its way. We’ll take good care of him. Now that he’s a little more comfortable, why don’t you come hold his hand?” Ororo moved over to allow his wife to kneel by him for better access, and the tears slid down in unchecked rivers from her face, her gratitude plain.
Her words…those words out of her mouth were what twisted Ororo’s insides. I don’t want to think of living without him. Gladys had waved to Ororo from the back of the ambulance, mustering a watery smile as the doors swished shut, and the image of her plodding alongside her husband’s stretcher, holding his hand in a determined grip…well, it would haunt her.
It always did.
“Siddown. Before ya collapse.” Logan pulled out a chair and nudged her into it. “Last night’s dinner is still in the fridge, just warm it up. Or I can swing by and check on ya when I take my first break.” Ororo’s heart melted as he continued to watch her with concern. “You okay, ‘Ro? Ya look…I dunno. Like ya’ve got a lot on yer mind.” He smoothed back a lock of hair that loosened itself from her braid.
“I’m fine. Just thinking about…things. Stuff.” She clasped his hand and kissed it, shutting her eyes, just basking in how lucky she felt that he was here. That they were here. “I’ll manage. I’m headed to the gym when I wake up, and I’ll get Jubes from school today.”
“Make sure she stays home today once she gets back. She doesn’t get her homework done when she hangs out at Monet’s house.”
“I know.” And she did.
“I love you, ‘Ro.” He bent down for a proper kiss, this time molding his lips to hers with tenderness and hunger.
“I know that, too.”
“Good. Then tonight we’ll talk.”
“Talk?” Her heart did a funny little flip-flop.
“Gotta get to work. Runnin’ late. ‘Bye, baby.” Ororo’s hand hung in mid-air, waving weakly.
“Yeah…’bye.” She reheated the dinner plate on the top shelf of the refrigerator and sat down to watch the sun come up.
Ororo pondered what he could have meant by wanting to talk for the half-hour walk with Chuckles to the park, over breakfast, during her shower, at the gym, then again after she woke up in the late afternoon to retrieve Jubilee.
“Then tonight we’ll talk, he says,” she grumbled. Why do I always do that? I’m broadcasting again. Just throwing all of my feelings onto my face in plain view. It has to be the new living arrangements, she decided. Yeah, that’s it. Playing house was bringing out her softer, mushier side. Making her vulnerable.
Yeah, that was probably it.
Jubilee chattered a mile a minute as she clambered into the Jeep. “I wanna head to Monet’s house, we’re planning a trip to the mall. Homecoming’s coming up, and…”
“Hold the phone, kiddo. Logan said he wants you home for the afternoon.”
“AWWWWWW!”
“I don’t make the rules, sweetie.”
“Why can’t I go? Monet gets to go today, I promised I’d meet her!”
“Logan wants you to get your homework done without putting it off. Doesn’t seem more important than picking out a killer outfit for the dance, but it is.” Ororo silently admitted to herself that Jubilee probably wasn’t buying it.
“Yeah, right,” came the answering snarl from the pixie-coifed sulking ball huddled in the passenger seat, mashed against the door in defiance. Okay, she’s not buying it. Ororo sighed as she turned her Jeep out of the school’s circular driveway. They drove back to the house in silence. Jubilee let herself out of the Jeep and made a beeline to her room. As Ororo came into the house from checking the mail, she heard mumbled snippets of conversation as Jubilee cursed the unfairness of adults, two adults in particular shouldering her ire.
“…s’not like she’s my MOTHER or anything, geez, what’s the big deal if I wanna hang out with my friends for a while.” Ororo paused in the middle of opening the cable bill. Yeah, there it was. That little ache, kind of a poking pain…
Kind of like being stabbed. Wordlessly Ororo opened the rest of the mail.
Logan strode inside a couple of hours later, and was surprised to find Ororo standing by the stove, adding a can of chicken broth to a sauté pan, covering the rice she’d lightly browned in butter, with a dab of minced onion. “You’re cooking,” he observed.
“Give the man a gold star,” she quipped. She turned her face for his kiss, but her shoulders were stiff. Logan eyed her curiously for a moment, opening his mouth to express surprise that the rice even smelled great, coming from the hands of a woman claiming to be the antithesis of Martha Stewart, when Jubilee padded into the kitchen in her Power Puff girls socks, scowling. “Logan, why’d you tell ‘Ro I couldn’t go to the mall with Monet today?”
“Hi, Half-Pint. Glad to be home, thanks fer askin’.” Logan shucked his jacket and laid it over the chair.
“I told Monet I’d go with her to the mall.”
“Didja have homework tonight?”
“Yeah?”
“Then that’s why,” he replied simply, shrugging. Seemed simple to him.
“That’s not fair,” she whined. “And why does she get to tell me what to do?”
“Jubes,” he warned, his tone brooking no nonsense. “She told you what I asked her to tell you.” Ororo turned back to her sauté pan, feeling strangely uncomfortable, as though she should have been elsewhere than listening in on a sensitive conversation. I hate feeling like we’re ganging up on her.She knew why, but that didn’t make it fun. “And if you hadn’t noticed, ‘Ro’s an adult and this is her roof that we’re under now, and she deserves some respect. Cut her some slack.” He chose his words carefully enough. Yet all Ororo heard was “This is her roof.”
The sixty-four dollar question of the day was, when did it become their roof?
Jubilee pulled a face and muttered her way back to her room, shutting them out and turning up the volume of her Audioslave CD. Ororo stirred a small amount of tomato sauce into the rice broth and covered it with a lid. Logan massaged her shoulder and kissed the nape of her neck before digging for the dinner plates from the cabinet. He set the table, reassuring her “She’s ticked off with me, babe. Not you. Don’t think she meant anything by it.” Ororo shrugged.
“Mmm.” Her nonchalant tone left no room for doubt. Yeah, she’s upset.
“So, ‘Ro. ‘Bout that talk that ya promised me…what made ya so shook up?”
“It’s nothing…well, nothing big. On my first call last night, I ended up at this cute little old couple’s house. The husband had a heart attack.”
“Sounds rough, darlin’.”
“Yeah. It always is. Gotta keep a stiff upper lip. In my line of work, I’ve gotta be pretty unflappable. I’ve seen people in worse shape when they complain about chest pain.” Ororo cracked open a can of refried black beans and spooned them into the saucepan. “It was just his wife, seeing how she was around him that makes it hard. It’s always harder trying to be strong for the family.” Her throat clogged, but her tone remained steady.
“I bet.” His arms slid around her waist, warm, strong and comforting. Safe.
“Don’t mind me.” Don’t leave me.
“Not at all.” Don’t leave me, darlin’. “I don’t mind one damn bit.”
Two weeks later, Ororo and Jubilee pulled into the parking lot of the galleria, parking outside the Jessica McClintock outlet.
“I don’t want dyable shoes. Monet says they’re tacky.”
“Eh. Not tacky, just a waste of money. You’ll only wear them once, and they won’t match anything else that you own. They get dirty, too, and all the stains show. We’ll look for something in patent leather,” Ororo promised.
“I knew there was a reason why I like shopping with you!” Ororo chuckled as Jubilee linked her arm through hers. She suspected that at least one reason was that she had the wheels to get her there. After the scene in the kitchen, things were a little bit strained between the two women for a day or two before Jubilee finally began answering Ororo’s answers with more than the occasional grunted syllables, grudgingly admitting that Monet had settled for shopping for her homecoming outfit with Paige, a pretty blonde cheerleader, instead, and didn’t act heartbroken that Jubes couldn’t make their shopping date.
Ororo spent the next hour fetching and carrying dresses to and from the dressing room and handing them over the edge of the door. Her arms began to ache from holding the dress-laden hangers up off the ground, sometimes three or four at once. Shoot, glad I can lift fifty pounds…
“I need something that makes me look like I have boobs.”
“You do have boobs.”
“No, I’ve got mosquito bites. YOU have boobs.”
“Mosquito bites?” Ororo stifled a laugh, but didn’t want to bruise her feelings. “There’s nothing wrong with being petite, kiddo. Just think of all these fantastic outfits that you get to wear. Boys’ll notice your cute figure and your pretty face, not just your chest.”
Jubilee leaned out of the door, her brow furrowed with interest in Ororo’s reply when she asked “D’you think I’m pretty?”
“Jubilee, you’re very pretty. Step out in that for a sec?” Jubes heaved a gusty sigh and let her shoulders droop in resignation.
“Whaddya think?”
“DEFINITELY that one. Oh, Jubilee, look at yooooouuuuu!” Ororo was having a Meg Ryan moment, eyes pooling up as she led Jubilee in front of the three-way mirror in the corridor. “This is the one. I can’t wait to show Logan when we get home.” The spaghetti-strapped sheath had a ruched layer of sheer chiffon over the bust and a nipped-in waist, and the handkerchief hem floated just below her knees.
“You like it?” Her face was glowing, her tone hopeful. Her shoulders straightened as she saw herself through Ororo’s eyes. Her hands smoothed the silky fabric over her abdomen.
“I LOVE it.” She beckoned to the salesgirl and said “Could you show us a matching pump in a size six?” Once the dress was tucked safely into a garment bag, they proceeded to ransack the accessory section, doing considerable damage. Paige and Monet WHO? Jubilation Lee was gonna be the hottest chick at homecoming! And that was that.
Logan rolled his eyes good naturedly at the number of shopping bags clutched into their hands from behind his paper. “Didn’t ya already buy yer school clothes fer the year?”
“We couldn’t leave this stuff behind. We only bought the essentials,” Ororo insisted, grinning ear to ear.
“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t convinced. At least not until Jubilee tried on the dress with the shoes and paraded in a little pirouette in the living room to show him the fruits of their labor. He opened his mouth to say something but failed to come up with the words.
“Sweetie, tell her how pretty she looks.” He snapped out of it when Ororo wrapped her arm around him.
“Beautiful. Ya look beautiful.” And he never wished more strongly that her parents could be alive to see her.
Ororo echoed those thoughts to him later that night as they got ready for bed. She replaced her glittery blue toothbrush in the cup and sat at the vanity to brush her hair. Logan took the brush from her and stroked it through her white tresses, perfectly content.
“She should have had her mother here to share it with,” she murmured. “This means a lot to a girl. I know how much it means.”
“Know you do. I got the feeling, though, darlin’, that it meant as much ta her ta have you with her, cheering her on and making her feel good about herself. Ya spent time with her, and she enjoyed it. She enjoys you.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
“With that in mind…how would ya feel about making it a little more concrete, and sealing the deal?”
“Logan…what’re you…? Ororo’s heart did flip-flops and her stomach felt fizzy as Logan took her hand and “ Lord have mercy “ kneeled on one knee, staring up into her eyes.
“Will you marry me?” Her eyes were locked on his face, her lip trembling as she tightened her grip on his hand. With his free one, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a tiny, dark blue velvet box. His hand was shaking he snapped it open, revealing a white gold band set with a one-carat round diamond, flanked on each side with tiny blue topaz stones.
“Logan…” She pressed her fingertips over her mouth to block the small cry. She sniffled loudly as her eyes filled for the second time that day. “I didn’t expect this.”
“Why? You know how I feel. And this is something that’s been feelin’ more and more right ta me since the day I hung my hat on yer hook,” he told her, in her own words.
“And…Jubilee?”
“She helped me pick it out yesterday. A kid doesn’t do that unless she gives her stamp of approval. Ororo, if we get married, I’d love it, and Jubes’d be honored if ya’d adopt her. As her mother.” Ororo was still silent; Logan mopped the tears from her cheeks. “Talk t’me, ‘Ro.” His voice was soft, his eyes searching her face for clues. “I wanna know if yer up ta bein’ a family with us. Maybe even adding onto it.”
It was out there. He couldn’t…no, wouldn’t take it back.
“I need to think about it.”
Logan felt the blood rushing in his ears for one savage, unrelenting moment as the floor dropped out from under him, knocking him on his ass.
“Ya need ta think about it?” His grip around her fingers loosened; he slid his hand off of her lap and rested back on his haunches, snapping the box shut. His face darkened as he rose and laid the box down on the bureau. “I think ya already have. Ya told me what I needed ta know.”
“Logan…when…when I was married before, I-I didn’t know if…kids, a family yet, I didn’t know, I DIDN’T KNOW! Logan! Logan, come back! COME BACK!” His boots echoed heavily on the floor boards as he slammed the front door shut behind him.
Nonononononoooooo… Ororo didn’t bother with searching for her sneakers, she just bolted out the front door in bare feet, in spite of the chilly night air. She caught Logan just as he was putting the key in the ignition of his pickup. She reached the door on the driver’s side and yanked it open.
“Go back inside, ‘Ro.”
“Not without you. Don’t leave.”
“Goodnight, ‘Ro.” His voice was flat, but sparks were flying from his hazel eyes.
“Tell me where you’re going.” She reached for the ignition and stilled him from turning the key any further, cutting off the engine.
“Back to Yukio’s.”
“Why?” She knew why.
“I’m gonna ask her for my old unit, and see if I can offer her a deposit t’get her old place back.”
“No.” Her voice cracked as tears ran off her chin, wetting her night shirt. “I…I don’t want you to go. Please, Logan, please, Logan. Don’t go.”
“Tell me why I should stay.” She could feel the waves of hurt rolling off of him, drowning her.
“Because I love you,” she yelped. She wouldn’t let him pull away when he tried, clutching his leg. “I love you so much, Logan.”
“Sure. Sure you do. I just don’t know if ya love US. Yer throwin’ up these walls, ‘Ro…you love me, yeah, that’s great. I know I love you. God…it hurts, how much I love you, when you push me away. I wanna be with you, I wanna life with you, but only because you love me, not because you just don’t wanna be alone. I don’t wanna feel like I’m coming between you and yer career, or like ya feel like startin’ a family with me is ‘gettin’ in the way’ of yer life. Ya can’t expect me ta be okay with feelin’ like that, ‘Ro. I want the whole package. Happiness. A wife. Children. A home for my goddaughter who I love like my own. And the promise…” his voice broke, straining to remain steady, “that this is something yer not ‘settling’ for. Ya won’t do that ta me. Ya’ve gotta decide, and if ya feel like ya can’t, then I’ll decide for ya.” Ororo’s legs wobbled and collapsed beneath her as she dropped to her knees, ignoring the feel of cold concrete against her flesh. Her cry was ragged and harsh as she held onto the leg of his jeans, sobbing uncontrollably now at his words.
“Go back inside, ‘Ro.” His voice was soft. She peered up at him and resolutely let go, walking out of the garage without looking back.
Back at Yukio’s:
“Are you shitting me? Are you out of your FUCKING MIND?!?!?”
“Think they heard ya out in the bungalows, Yukio. Take it down a notch, ya blew my eardrum.” Logan sipped the Molson that Yukio had handed him as soon as he crossed the threshold to her unit, looking like someone told him there wasn’t a Santa Clause.
“You walked out on ‘Ro?”
“Explain ta me how I was supposed ta stay?”
“Because, dumb ass, she said ‘I need to think about it.’ That’s a whole different ball of wax from ‘I don’t love you.’” Yukio raked her hand through her short hair helplessly. “Eerrrrgggh. Logan, why? WHY?”
“I don’t hafta explain myself to ya. Can I have my old place back or not?”
“Not til you promise me you’ll clear this up with her. At least try. Logan, this is gonna kill Jubes.”
“Yukio…I can’t do this. I found the love of my life once with Mariko. You know it wasn’t easy, not for one second, but I loved her, and there was no question about what she gave up to marry me. She accepted me from the jump. There was no question about careers, kids, moving away from her home…she gave herself to me lock, stock and barrel.”
“What about ‘Ro, then?”
“She’d scared of what I have to offer. She doesn’t wanna give up what’s she’s worked for.”
“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, ‘cause it seems like you’re scared, too. You’re scared to death that you’ll lose her. That she might not come home one night.” Logan laid his beer on the table.
“What?” His voice was dangerously soft.
“You heard me. Life’s short, Logan. Too damned short. Mariko flew home on that plane…”
“Stop. Don’t do this.”
“No. You’re going to listen to me. She flew home on that plane to take care of that unforgiving sonofabitch father of her after he disowned her and sent her away, as if she’d disgraced him instead of marrying the man she couldn’t live without.”
“Shut up.
“She could have stayed with you, Logan. I know she loved you. It was plain as day. Her eyes followed you in and out of the room and she worshipped the ground that you walked on.” This time Yukio’s almond-shaped black eyes blazed with tears. “She was pregnant. Do you how excited she was when she called me to tell me the news? I finally let go of that one last piece of regret that you and I couldn’t make it work, because she was so damned happy to be having your child, creating something together with you. You were happy, and that was fine with me. It made it fine for me, Logan. She didn’t have to leave.”
“Ya think I don’t tell myself that?” he whispered. Logan stared at his balled up fist resting in his lap as he mopped away the tears flooding his cheeks. He shuddered with a mixture of rage and helplessness as it all came rushing back.
Mr. Howlett? We’re calling you from the county hospital. You’re listed as Mariko Howlett’s next of kin…
“If you give up on ‘Ro now, Logan…it’ll be the worst mistake you’ve ever made. This…” she waved her hand into the now feminine décor of the apartment… “this isn’t a home. It never will be even if I haul my ass out of here and you hole yourself back up in here again.” She stood before him and extended her hand. He grasped it with nerveless fingers and allowed her to pull him up. “Go home, Logan. Go home to that crazy, loving, beautiful woman and fix this. Give her a chance. Give what you have a chance.” She enveloped him in a fierce hug and rocked him until his shuddering subsided.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”
The lights were already off when he pulled back into the garage. Logan unlocked the front door and let himself in. Chuckles trotted over and yipped once before Logan lightly clamped his hand over his muzzle. “Sssh. Don’t wake her up, pup.” He scratched behind his ears to reassure him, and Chuckles retreated to his dog bed with a plaintive whine. Logan hung his keys and jacket on the kitchen hooks and stepped out of his sneakers before returning to the master bedroom. He unfastened his clothes on his way to bed, shedding them in the dim moonlight shining in through the window. The light danced over Ororo’s white spill of hair, what he could see of it from where she was curled into a ball, the covers pulled up to her chin. Her breathing was deep, but there was a faint grimace marring the peacefulness of her features. “Hmmmmnnnh.” Her moan made him want to wake her, but he knew it was late. Things would look better in the morning.
They had to.
Logan eased into the other side of the bed, not touching her, but as he slid beneath the covers, they fell away from her hands, where she clutched something small in her fist, up against her chest.
It was the ring box.
Logan silently replaced the covers and closed his eyes, but it was a long time before he slept. He never heard her leave in the morning at dawn.
I Won't Budge by OriginalCeenote
Moving…why’m I moving? WHOA…went over a bump. Unnnnhhhh…
“What’s her pressure?”
“One hundred over sixty-two.”
Ororo felt a tiny prick in her arm and groaned in protest. Something hard and cold clamped onto her index finger, and a whistling noise invaded her thoughts.
“Hand me another lead, Trish.”
“Careful with that; that’s a deep bruise right there under her collarbone. Looks like a fracture.” Pain flooded Ororo’s awareness as someone prodded her torso.
“Ribs feel pretty bad, too. Call into triage, let ‘em know to prep an X-ray suite and the MRI. We’ve got a firefighter down, African-American female, looks to be about mid-twenties, recovered by her fellow officer at the scene of a house fire. Patient was pulled from the basement after being hit by a fallen beam.”
“We’re getting a call from dispatch over at the fire station. We’ve got a little more information about our patient…” Ororo’s eyes fluttered open and squinted at the light shining over her. She found herself looking up the nostrils of the EMT and being met by a friendly smile.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Mmmmnh…’Ro. ‘Roro Munroe.” Her voice was low. Her lips felt cracked and dry.
“Could you repeat that?”
“Ororo.” She attempted to rub her eyes and clear the fog from her vision until the pulse ox clamp got in the way and rapped her in the nose. “Ow!” That was when she felt the cool, binding pressure of a cannula laying over her face, feeding her a steady, comforting stream of oxygen.
“You might want to just lay back and relax, kiddo. You should start to feel a little less the worse for wear; we’re giving you some fluids.” Ororo tilted her face to peer out the side window of the ambulance, but felt dizzy as the trees whizzed by too quickly for her eyes to follow. She closed them again on a grimace.
“Ororo, do you have any relatives we should call?” She felt a soft, gloved hand covering hers as a tear slipped out from the corner of her eye.
“There…is someone. I live with him.” Ororo caught her breath, which took some effort, and recited the phone number.
*****
Back up in the hills:
“Logan’s Quick Stop, this is Logan speaking?” Logan reached for the knob on his satellite radio to turn down the volume.
“Is this Logan Howlett?”
“Yes,” he answered, wondering who could be calling him in the middle of the morning. Jubilee made it to school without incident already, and she wasn’t the type to play hooky. He’d paid the electric bill…his mental catalog of the payments that he remembered making for the month was interrupted by words that made his blood run cold.
“I’m glad we were able to reach you. Ororo gave us your name when we retrieved her today and brought her in to the county hospital.” Logan’s breath rushed out of his lungs as though someone punched him in the gut.
“Retrieved her…Ororo? What happened…is she…?”
“We have her here in the E/R, and they’re getting ready to move her into the MRI suite for a quick scan. She was brought in by ambulance today after receiving a few injuries. Mr. Howlett, are you a relative of Miss Munroe?”
A chill ran down Logan’s spine, making cold, clammy gooseflesh sweep over his skin. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?
“I live with Ororo. She’s my fiancée.” Logan didn’t want it to be a lie. It was the only chance he had of seeing her. Seeing with his own eyes that she hadn’t…
“Yukio?” Logan beckoned to her as she came out from the back with a cart of Power Ade. “I need ya ta watch the store.”
“Mr. Howlett?” The nurse’s voice was still drifting out of the handset. “Mr. Howlett, I know this has to be a horrible shock. Can you come down to the hospital?”
“I’ll be there immediately.” Yukio reached for his hand, drinking in his gray pallor with alarm. She took the phone from him and hung it up.
Logan cleared his throat. “Something’s happened ta ‘Ro. Please…pick up Jubes from school.”
She shook her head. “I’m closing the store for the rest of the day. Go. Now.” Yukio locked up the cash register and whipped out a Sharpie pen, scribbling a note to tape inside the window of the door: “Family Emergency. Out for the day. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Logan’s pickup truck roared out of the lot.
*****
Lying inside of an MRI tube gave a person a lot of time to think.
Ororo listened to the throbbing hum of the machine and peered up through the slot, thankful that she could see out to watch the attendant in the window of the adjacent suite.
“Just a little longer, Ororo.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. She adjusted the ear plug with a shaking hand before they began the next round. Then she began the painstaking process of recounting her day, what she could remember of it, a tiny sliver at a time.
She’d woke up at dawn, hitting the alarm before the clock radio could drone on too long. Beside her, Logan groaned in his sleep and rolled to his back, and Ororo melted at the sight of his handsome face in repose, until remembered the sight of his truck driving off, kicking up gravel as he ran from her. Hurt by her. Because she was too damned scared. Too stubborn.
So Ororo had gotten ready for work, spending mere seconds in the shower and shrugging into her clothes and gear. She snagged a frappaccino from the fridge and tiptoed out the front door. They only had a few minutes to talk if she woke him, she reasoned. Not long enough to convince him to stay. Not long enough to admit she’d been blind. Nowhere near long enough to repair some of the damage. But the urge to go back to bed, shed her clothes and show him how wrong she’d been, to kiss him senseless tugged at her. She shook it off, cranking the ignition on her Jeep and heading to the fire station.
*****
The MRI tube thrummed and pounded in her ears.
*****
Alex had been the first one to pipe up as she stored her drink in the refrigerator and dropped some coins into the vending machine. “You look a little under the weather.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That means there’s something to talk about. Everything okay at home?”
“Uh-uh.” Her posture was stiff and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Did you and Logan…?”
“I don’t want to go into detail, Alex. But yeah, I fucked up. Logan proposed last night, I froze up, and he ran out on me. I don’t blame him for a goddamned minute.” She tore open the packet of Pop-Tarts and bit off the corner of one without enthusiasm. It felt dry in her mouth, nearly choking her. Alex’s hand felt strong and comforting on her shoulder.
“Talk to him when you get home. This doesn’t have to be the end of the world, missy. You love him,” he pointed out.
“Oh, God, yes!”
“Then tell him that. Prepare for some serious groveling, put your pride away and get him back. If you love him, don’t just stand by and let him go. Jonathan would have wanted you to be happy, ‘Ro.” She didn’t pull away when he hugged her. Her fingers clutched his shirt as she leaned into him, craving reassurance that she hadn’t just blown her one chance at true happiness all to hell. “These past few months, you’ve been just that. Happy. It’s almost sickening!” Ororo’s laughter sputtered out on a sob.
*****
The details of that morning continued to drift by in a blurred mish-mash. The platform beneath Ororo began its torturously slow slide out of the MRI tube. Ororo sucked fresh air into her chest. It was always unnerving, being in a tiny little space like that.
“Are you feeling okay, Ororo?” She wanted to scream, No. I’ll never be okay. Ever.
“I’m fine, for the moment.”
“We’re gonna look at those scans we took of your ribs and collarbone, and give you a little something for the pain. You’re pretty bruised, but luckily none of your organs were damaged. You’re a lucky lady.” Ororo didn’t argue. She didn’t have the strength, or the heart.
Training. They’d had a training class right before they got the call from dispatch that a house on Graymalkin Lane was ablaze, and close enough to the neighboring homes to endanger them, too. Class was over. Ororo, Alex and Scott suited up and loaded their gear onto the rig.
*****
“Logan?” Jubilee’s voice sounded small and afraid in the passenger seat of his pickup. “Is ‘Ro…is she gonna die?” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, whitening his knuckles.
“Jubes…”
“Please don’t tell me she’s gonna die.” Tears leaked from her lashes as she hugged herself. She stared down at the small toiletry bag of personal items that Logan had her pack to keep her occupied as the prepared to go to the hospital. Logan momentarily considered leaving Jubilee in school for the rest of the afternoon, then realized that she had a right to see Ororo, too, and that she’d have been furious for keeping her away.
“I can’t tell ya anything right now, kiddo.” His throat was tight. “Yukio’s gonna meet us there.” The feeling of dread that had crept over him as soon as he heard the nurse ask him if he was a relative of Ororo’s has doubled by the time he reached the hospital parking lot and maneuvered his truck to the closest available spot.
“Please don’t tell me she’s gonna die. Please,” she repeated. Logan wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders and led her over to the admissions desk.
“I got a call this morning that you brought in my girlfriend this morning.” Girlfriend. The word sounded too small. “My fiancée. Her name’s Ororo Munroe.”
“She’s my mom.” More tears threatened to fall as Jubilee uttered the words that cemented Logan’s decision to set things right. If he still had the chance.
“Munroe…Munroe. Here we are. She’s been admitted and moved to the second floor. Take these visitor badges. I’ll call upstairs to see if she’s been settled in. She’s in room 7B.”
*****
The memories wouldn’t stop. Now they were filled with smoke. Ororo fidgeted as she was gently turned on the narrow cot as they changed her into a clean hospital gown.
”There’s smoke coming out of the bulkhead. We’re gonna have to go in through the basement.”
“I’m on my way in, Scott.”
“Alex, go with her. I’m doing a sweep of the first floor.”
Ororo felt the overwhelming heat through her protective slicker and gloves as she wove her way through the smoke. She ventilated the wall separating the rest of the basement from the boiler and sprayed her hose in a strong, clear arc, trying to minimize the fog of smoke billowing through the tiny space. She adjusted her air mask before Alex called out to her.
“Structure’s weak in here, ‘Ro, this is an old house ““
“I know, we’re almost clear…” CRACK!
For one horrible instant, Ororo felt everything around her go black. Before losing consciousness, she heard Alex’s voice calling out to her.
“Not again! Shit…’RO! Don’t worry, I’m comin’, I’m getting you out!” The pain wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She wondered why. Her air mask had been knocked loose, and acrid smoke crept under the rim, choking her, burning her throat. Dimly, Ororo heard Jonathan’s voice in her head.
”Ororo.”
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“You’ve gotta get up. You’re scaring the crap out of Alex.”
“Didn’t… mean to. Tired. Hurts.”
“I know, baby. But you’ve gotta move. Roll a little, help him get some leverage.” Ororo’s cracked ribs groaned with the effort. Alex swore with relief when he reached her.
That was as much as she remembered. She never felt the cool ground beneath her as they peeled away her mask and removed her airpack. She never heard the sirens. She never saw Scott and Alex bending over her and muttering a litany of prayers and curses not to let history repeat itself. Somewhere in her subconsciousness, she heard Jonathan bid her goodbye. And her eyes were filled with the image of Logan’s angry eyes boring into her from the window of his truck as he drove away…
The bedding tucked loosely around her felt scratchy and stiff. Ororo hated hospital blankets, almost as much as she hated hospitals themselves. Jonathan’s stay had done that, leaving her with haunting memories of the blood-stained white sheets when they first brought him and began cutting away his gear to flush and probe his wounds. It brought her back to that dark place. Watching him lie there, broken. Feeling helpless.
Now she was broken. And she was alone. She stared out the window of the suite, watching the trees outside sway in the breeze. She was just about to reach for the call button to ask one of the orderlies to bring her a water pitcher when she heard the creak of the door hinges and two sets of footsteps enter the room.
Logan brought the scent of fresh air inside with him, despite the completely tense, frazzled set of his body and features. He paused at the foot of the bed, studying her. Ororo just stared at him, suddenly aware that she had never seen a more beautiful sight. Jubilee came alongside him, drinking in her first look at Ororo and emitting a low moan.
“Oh, my God, ohhhhhhhh!” She ignored her earlier promise to herself not to crack up in the middle of the hospital and flung herself into her godfather’s steadying hug.
“Jubes…it’s okay, baby.” Ororo’s eyes filled as she lifted her good hand and waved them closer.
“Kid needed ta see fer herself that yer all in one piece, baby.” Logan pulled up another chair and nudged Jubilee into the first one, handing her a tissue from the flat box on Ororo’s nightstand. “So did I.” Weakly, he sat down, letting his eyes roam over her from head to toe. There were bruises under her eyes from her concussion. Ororo still had the IV in her arm, but the EKG leads had been removed. The edge of a 3M adhesive pad peeked over the neckline of her hospital gown. Ororo could wait until her next shower to remove them; she knew it’d hurt like the devil. Her ribs were snugly wrapped and her shoulder was in a sling to avoid jarring her collarbones. The morphine was already wearing off, and Ororo ached all over. She managed a weak smile for Logan and Jubilee as he took her hand.
“I’m going to be okay, Logan. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like someone dropped a piano on me, but I’ll heal.” Logan’s eyes clenched shut as he let out a shuddery breath. He just held onto her hand, glad for the tangible proof that she was still there, even though she looked like a battered angel. Jubilee was still fighting sobs, huddled in her seat and trying to be brave. “I was trapped under a beam. Knocked the wind out of me.”
“Oh, God!” Jubilee let it out fully, grasping the bedrails and bowing her forehead against her hands. “’Ro…you could have…died!” Suddenly it was too much. Ororo gave up on trying to be calm for Jubilee and met Logan’s eyes.
“Logan…could you lower the rails for a minute?” His nod was brisk as he released her hands and triggered the latch on the rail, sliding it down to allow Ororo to reach for Jubilee and tug her so she lay across her lap. Sobs shook her small frame as she poured out the frustration and helplessness that she had been forcing down from the moment that Logan met her at the principal’s office. Logan sat there numbly, watching Ororo stoke Jubilee’s hair and back, murmuring the soothing promise that she would be all right. That she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Ro…” Jubilee’s voice was muffled as she clutched and twisted the blankets in her hands. “I-I want y-you to come home…with us,” she stammered. “I want y-you to come home, and-and be my MOM!” Ororo’s face crumpled at her revelation and she let the tears come. She winced at her sore ribs and her inability to hold Jubilee more firmly, but the comforting weight of her body opened Ororo’s eyes to what she knew she couldn’t lose. Having a family meant being there and staying for the long haul. She felt something inside her crack, that last little thread of resistance to what she’d been trying to deny.
“Jubes…I want to come home, too. I love you, sweetie. So much. You and your father…you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” It was the first time any of them had acknowledged Logan as more than her guardian. Shock and joy clogged his chest at hearing himself called that. Before Logan could say anything, a light knock at the door caught his attention.
“Is this a private shindig, or can anyone join in?” Yukio eased around the corner into Ororo’s line of vision, nearly dropping the magazines and flowers that she brought up from the gift shop. “Ro!” Logan reached for the items before they could hit the floor and moved them to the nightstand, then supported Yukio as she stumbled over to the other side of the bed. She held it together pretty well, and reached out to stroke Ororo’s tangled white hair, much of which had escaped her braid in the fuss.
“Don’t ever scare the crap out of us like again, girl!” Ororo closed her eyes beneath the light kiss that Yukio placed on her forehead. That light touch, and being surrounded by the people she loved felt good. The people that she loved. A year ago, Ororo never imagined she would find herself here, with so much to lose if she didn’t reach out and take it. Yukio looked at Logan and decided she didn’t like the barely restrained tension radiating out from him. He looked like he was about to come undone, and if that was the case, he and Ororo needed some privacy.
“C’mon, Jubes. I bet you missed lunch at school.”
“I wanna stay here with Dad an’ ‘Ro.” There it was again.
“I know, kiddo, but let’s get something to eat. ‘Ro isn’t going anywhere, are you, ‘Ro?” Ororo smiled weakly and mopped the tears from Jubilee’s cheek, cradling it in her hand.
“I won’t budge.” She nearly tacked on “Because it hurts too damned much.” Yukio led Jubilee out of the room, leaving them alone with questions hanging on their lips.
“Logan…I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He edged his chair closer to the bed and laced his fingers together, leaning his elbows on the mattress. “This isn’t the time fer sorry, baby. I just want ya ta get well.”
“If now’s not the time for sorry, sweetie, then when? Logan, I fucked up.” His face whipped around to meet hers. “I was stupid. So damned stupid. I love you and you asked me to marry you, and I told you I had to think about it. After we moved in together, and after we bared our souls to each other and promised to be nothing but honest with each other, and to try to bury the past, I told you I had to think about what should have been obvious. And that was wrong.” She swallowed around a lump in her throat and reached for him, stroking his cheek, her touch hesitant until he leaned into her caress. That gave her courage, and she forged ahead. “You’re a good man. You asked me for a life together, for a home. And all this time, we’ve made that home. And…when you left last night, Logan…oh, God!” Her hand dropped as she collapsed back onto the pillows and sobbed. She attempted to cover her face until she felt Logan looming over her, prying her fingers away from her eyes. Soft, insistent lips feathered over her forehead as he shushed her and stroked her hair. She babbled on, letting out what was sitting on her heart like a lead weight. “Y-you left, an-and I didn’t…didn’t follow you. I should have followed you…”
“No. I was angry. And I was the one who ran off,” he reminded her. Her hair smelled like smoke, he realized. He kissed her sweetly, trailing his lips down her satiny cheek.
“Still should’ve followed you.” He leaned his forehead against hers. Even bruised, broken and scraped up, she was beautiful and looking at him with so much feeling, a bomb could have gone off outside the room and he wouldn’t have budged from his perch. “I never should have let you get away. I don’t want you to get away.” Her voice was determined but earnest. “I want you and Jubes to stay. And I want us to be a family.”
“You can’t take it back.” A searing bolt of hope rushed through him. “You’ve been through a lot today, ‘Ro.”
“I had already been through a lot before I set foot out that door this morning, Logan. I wanted to stay with you and talk about what happened, but I didn’t. You know what that means to me. I could have…and we…” Ororo dissolved into long, ragged sobs. What happened next almost felt surreal.
Ororo’s hand was lifted gently aside to allow Logan’s head to lay against her shoulder, and he painstakingly wrapped her arm around his neck as he surrendered to the release, hard gasping sobs wracking his body. His voice was harsh and full of pain that tore at Ororo’s insides. He cried into her flesh through the thin nightgown, clutching her for dear life. She was his life. She almost didn’t make out his next words.
“I know…what it means. God, ‘Ro, I know.” His soft hazel eyes were bloodshot as he turned them up to her her, tears dribbling in a thin stream over the bridge of his nose.
“Then…I want you to know that the thought of living without you isn’t something I can live with. It’s not something I can even contemplate. Logan Howlett, if you’ll still…still have me…” Ororo gave up on trying to remain composed. “I’d like to be Jubilee’s mom, and your wife. I want to marry you, Logan.” Logan was trembling now, but he raised himself up onto his elbows, flattening her palm against his jaw.
“We could wait to discuss this when we’re home. Here, in the hospital, with ya just gettin’ over…”
“Uh-uh, we already put this off once. I’m not stupid enough to let a good thing get away from me twice, and I want to tell Jubes. Now. Today. If you love me, and if you’ll still have me, my answer is yes.” His answering, watery smile nearly broke her heart.
“I’ll never run out on ya again, darlin’.”
“I’ll never leave the house again without kissing you goodbye. And I want to wake up to you every morning for the rest of my life.” His lips felt warm and soft and tasted like all of her favorite things as they sealed their promise.
So the prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a real princess; and the pea was put in the museum, where it may still be seen, if no one has stolen it.
*****
One month later, at Mac’s:
“It’s gonna feel weird not to have to get up at the crack of dawn anymore.”
“You gonna miss it?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then, there ya go.” Alex took a hearty chug of his beer. “Crank it down a notch, ‘Ro, you and Logan are sending me into sugar shock,” he warned as Ororo leaned into Logan’s slow and thorough kiss across from him at the table that they shared.
“Jealous,” she shot back. Logan grinned at her and nuzzled her neck.
“When do you start your new job over at the forestry district?”
“In a couple of weeks. I’m taking a little time off so Logan and I can close the escrow on the new house and arrange the moving truck.”
“Sounds like you’re gearing up for more garage sales,” Scott murmured over the rim of his mug. Ororo groaned. Mac Hudson strolled up to their table and reached out to shake Logan’s hand.
“Logan, that’s the smuggest expression I’ve ever seen on your face. Is this the lady responsible for that sappy glow?”
“Yup.” Ororo shook his hand warmly.
“Logan introduced me to your chicken wings. I’m addicted. He also tells me you’re something of a comedian.”
“Has he told you the joke about the woman who asked her pharmacist for cyanide?” Scott and Alex groaned and reached for more hot wings. They were going to be here for a while…
*****
Six months later:
“Where did Logan end up staying last night?” Ororo sat still as Yukio adjusted her veil and inserted another bobby pin to secure it.
“With Scott and Alex. They had the stag party at Mac’s.”
“Kinda hard to maintain tradition when you guys live in the same house, with the whole “groom can’t see the bride the morning of the wedding” thing.” Yukio reached for the already loaded makeup sponge and touched up beneath Ororo’s eyes with some translucent powder. “If you keep bawling, you’ll totally ruin your eye makeup. I’m not helping you put your eyeliner on for a fourth time.”
“I know. I’m being silly. I’m just…so…” More tears threatened. Yukio snatched a Kleenex out of the box. Jubilee had already gone through more than her share; crumpled tissues littered the cluttered vanity. Ororo clutched the tissue gratefully and blotted her eyes. “Is it that bad?”
“Of course not, goofball. You’re stunning. You’ll knock his eyes out. I’m guessing he’ll hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob and we won’t hear from either of you for a week. Maybe two.” The two women turned at the sound of footsteps thudding into the bedroom.
“Oh! RO! Ohmigod! LOOK at youuuuuu! This is so exciting, I can’t wait, you look so beautiful, you’re so lucky…Monet! Does my mom look gorgeous or what?” Jubilee fanned herself with her hand. Tears threatened to spoil her own makeup any second.
“Gads, you two are hopeless,” Yukio grumbled. She fished around in Ororo’s jewelry box for the slim blue topaz tennis bracelet that Logan had given her for an engagement gift and fastened it around Ororo’s wrist. “There’s something new and blue.”
“I don’t want anything old to bring with me. I’m done with old, bring on the new,” Ororo announced, standing and fluffing out the hem of her pale ivory gown. “And I’m borrowing my husband’s best friend as my maid of honor, so we’ve got that covered. And I couldn’t have asked for a better one to have in my corner!”
“Damn it, don’t make me cry again,” Yukio chuckled, enveloping Ororo in a perfumed hug.
“Hard habit to break. Sorry.” Ororo heard Jubilee sniffle from across the room as Monet patted her arm. “Yup. You’re my daughter, Jubes, you’re as bad as I am! We’re a couple of watering pots!”
Ororo and the girls piled into the waiting limousine, taking extra care with her gown’s train and veil. The drive to the church found Monet and Jubilee squealing and giggling with delight at the mini TV and pouting when Ororo wouldn’t let them peek in the wet bar.
*****
At the church:
“Yer lookin’ mighty nervous, bub,” Alex drawled, mimicking Logan’s trademark twang.
“Shut up.”
“Nice. Very nice. That’s the thanks I get for dressing up in a monkey suit.” Alex grinned, knowing he never would have said no. It was ‘Ro’s wedding, for cripes’ sake. Wild horses couldn’t have kept him or Scott away. The strains of the bridal march drifted through the annex, making Logan’s throat clench as he turned his eyes to the aisle. The assembled guests stood and series of clicks from dozens of cameras could be heard over the music.
Katie Power sashayed at a saucy pace in her pink and white flower girl dress, swinging a raffia-decorated basket at her side and grinning from ear to ear. Logan winked at her as she met him at the front pew and hugged his legs before her mother retrieved her. Margaret adjusted the flowers in Katie’s hair and wiped her eyes as she settled her daughter into her lap.
Jubilee was next, looking so grown up and beautiful in the delicate pink chiffon bridesmaid dress that Logan almost lost it. One of Ororo’s former fellow firefighters escorted her to her place in front of the altar as the rest of the procession continued up the aisle. The organ soared as Ororo made her entrance, her hand resting in the crook of Scott’s arm as he led the way.
“Oh, God.” Alex gripped his arm and lent him strength. The wind was nearly knocked out of him as Ororo slowly, gracefully made her way toward him, looking serenely beautiful beneath the full-length tulle blusher of her veil. Her ivory gown was a sheath of silk shantung, strapless to reveal her shoulders and slender arms. The modest sweetheart neckline accentuated her burgeoning cleavage, and the bodice was nipped in and sashed at the waist with white satin. The narrow, full length skirt was edged with scalloped lace and embroidered with Swarovski crystals, seed pearls and clear bugle beads. The faintest hint of the bump of her two-month pregnancy could only be seen by those who had already heard the happy news. The train of the gown swept behind her in her wake, and Scott leaned over to kiss her hand before stepping aside to let Logan take her hand. Logan lifted her blusher and gazed at her, drinking her in and running his knuckles over her cheek.
“Shit,” he heard Yukio hiss across the aisle. “Where are my Kleenex???”
There, that is a true story.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.