Winter was her favorite season.

There was something awe inspiring about the pristine beauty of freshly fallen snow across the expanse of the Great Lawn and clinging to the branches of the pines and maples dotting the yard; uncorrupted by human touch. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the tingle she received from the scent of pine sap and freshly fallen snow. The cool breeze felt good on her skin and she took a moment to savor the frosty feel of it.

Although the weather rarely affected her, during the snowy season, Ororo Munroe was often found in a warm sweater and faded blue jeans, as she was today, complete with colorful scarlet scarf and gloves. She felt cozy and relaxed as she watched the thick flakes of snow falling to the ground, casually brushing them from her lashes where they stuck.

Perhaps it had been growing up in Africa where she had never seen the wonders of the first snow or felt the purity of it in her senses, or perhaps it was the remembered fondness of sharing hot cocoa with her mentor on this very balcony, but whatever the case, Ororo welcomed winter to the Xavier Institute wholeheartedly.

The sprawling estate had been in Charles’ family for generations, and was now hers, bequeathed to her in his will, along with several million dollars to run it. The Mansion, as it was referred to by the students and staff, was on par with the most elaborate of ancient castles, complete with underground tunnels, tall turrets, hidden passages and a rich history of secrets. As large and grand as the Institute was it had never felt cold to her, or impersonal. This was her home, and she thanked the Goddess above every day that Charles had found her and taken her into his keeping.

Cupping her hands around her steaming mug, she brought the frothy cocoa to her lips, sipping slowly. There was something undeniably comforting about drinking hot chocolate on a snowy morning, she mused, taking another slow taste. Charles had once told her it was the reminiscence of childhood comforts that the drink brought forth that made it so appealing, but she had been quick to remind him that she had never indulged in the sweet drink before she had come to America, so that could not hold true for her. To that he had shrugged, adjusted his lap quilt, stared at the starry sky and falling flakes and had said, “Must be the company, then.” She would have to agree.

“Beautiful morning. Somehow I knew I could find you up here.”

Slightly startle, Ororo whirled, her face split with a wide smile. “Hank!”

She set her mug on the marble railing, reaching out to hug her friend. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. I wasn’t expecting you until later in the week.”

Hank lifted her off of her feet, chuckling at her squeal. “I took a holiday leave. I was uncertain as to whether or not I would be able to finagle my way through all of the paperwork or not, so I decided to leave it as a surprise if I could come early.”

Taller than many men and twice as wide, Hank was an imposing figure, however, it wasn’t Henry McCoy’s impressive stature or wide girth that stopped most people in their tracks, but instead it was the blue fur and fangs that marked him as a mutant that caused the initial reactions of alarm in most. Ororo on the other hand had always found Henry’s thick fur and bear-like size to be reassuring. He was her gentle giant.

“It’s a wonderful surprise,” she assured him.

Hank set her back on her own two feet, moving to lean against the banister. His intelligent blue eyes surveyed the grounds below. “No early risers to wreak havoc upon nature’s glorious display?” he questioned. “I remember we were always the first ones out, bounding into the snowdrifts like children.” His voice, always expressive, held a hint of wistful melancholy.

Cocking her head, a mischievous smile on her face Ororo gauged the distance between the balcony and the ground. She gave Hank’s long tweed jacket and expensive suit pants an appraising look. “Is that dry clean only?” she asked lightly.

Hank blinked owlishly, any response he would have given not made as he and Ororo tumbled from the balcony into the snow below, cradled by the winds at her command. They landed with oomphs and laughter, both tossing handfuls of white powder at one another.

As if drawn from their rooms by a beacon, students began streaming from the Institute, peals of laughter and whoops echoing across the estate as snowballs flew. Hank quickly snagged Bobby Drake, having the ice wielder erect a formidable fortress to defend.

Quick as that makeshift teams were formed, Colossus joining with Ororo and Kitty on one side of the yard with Bobby and Marie aligned with Hank. Snowballs flew with purpose and peals of merriment like those of days past filled Ororo’s ears making her chest bubble with a joy she hadn’t felt in ages.

The walls of Hank’s fort began to grow, creating a semi circle, coming round towards where Ororo, kitty and Peter were huddled. “No fair!” Kitty laughed. “Bobby is snow!”

Ororo smirked, her eyes alight. “They aren’t the only ones with a trick or two up their sleeves.” Summoning her winds she shoveled the snow before her up and over the fort walls, dumping a heaping pile upon Hank, Marie and Bobby.

Shaking his great head to dislodge the crown of fluff he now adorned, Hank winked at the two youths. “Word of advice, never engage in a snow fight with a woman named Storm.”

“Mr. McCoy, I’d make it a practice not to tangle with a woman named Storm over much of anything.” Bobby replied deadpan.

Hank’s laugh was deep and felt to the other man’s toes. “Truer words have never been spoken, dear boy.” Hank grinned, peering around the ice wall. “But what is life, without the thrill of risk?” With that the blue furred mutant leapt forward, bounding across the snow and tackling the white haired headmistress of the school.

“Wretch!” Ororo laughed as she was tumbled backwards.

The sound of a gunned motorcycle engine interrupted their snow play. Ororo rolled, getting to her feet, dusting her shoulders off, watching as the front iron gates of the school parted and a silver and black custom made machine roared through the entrance and up the winding drive.

Hank came to stand beside her. “The prodigal son returns.”

“Isn’t that what they do?” Ororo asked with an amused tilt of her mouth.

“Tell me, how long has he been gone?”

“He left two days after Alcatraz.” Ororo answered.

“He left you here with no help for seven months?”

Six months and twenty one days, but who was counting? “I handled it.”

“Of course you did.” Hank said, patting her on the back companionably. “But it’s the principle.”

One shoulder lifted in an easy shrug. “To cage him would be more harmful than helpful.”

Hank’s gaze grew speculative. “I didn‘t realize you and he were close.”

“As close as he let’s anyone get, I imagine.” She clapped her hands, shaking the remaining snow free, dismissing the subject. “Now, where were we?” She turned, her smile wicked.

Hank took a hasty step back, realizing he was in significant danger of becoming a furry ice cycle. “Don’t you want to greet Logan?”

Ororo glanced at the garage entrance where the man in question was pulling in. “Growly knows his way.” Her eyes turned a frosty shade of white.

Hank took off with a baritone whoop.

***

Logan killed the engine, stretching his stiff muscles. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, his eyes on the ceiling as he yawned. On the road for 36 hours straight and now he was back at Xavier’s. He had expected to feel uncomfortable, sad, or angry to say the least upon his arrival, but, truth be told, it felt damn good pulling through those front gates.

He unstrapped his duffle, swinging it over his shoulder as he dismounted. Making his way to the elevator of the underground garage Logan noticed that the design had been changed a bit. The vehicles were lined up, not by owner as they had been before, but, by apparent usefulness. Civilian cars, and sports cars were on the left, SUV’s, Jeeps and Hummers on the right with the four-- five now-- motorcycles in the rear nearest the elevator. Logan could understand why. Without Jean, Scott or Xavier, then all the vehicles had only one owner and leaving them the other way only served as a reminder of what had been lost.

As the elevator doors silently slid open he half expected to be tackled by Marie, but the foyer was completely empty. The scent of fresh coffee from the kitchen told him that someone was around. “’Ro?” he called, dropping his bag near the door. No answer. He stomped through the corridors towards the back of the mansion. He had seen some kids playing outside, maybe she was watching over them.

The back yard was a war zone.

Logan leaned his arm against one of the white columns, watching as fast flying snowballs flew like lobbed grenades. There was activity all around, the kind of like he had only ever seen when he had first arrived at Xavier’s--back before the Stryker attack and the cure. He mulled that over in his mind as he watched the young mutant children and some non mutant kids play. They had been through the wringer, had their mentor and guide murdered, lost their teachers, their friends…and yet, here they were--laughing and playing.

Not a man accustomed to sentimentality, Logan shook off his thoughts, searching the patio for any sign of Ororo. Finding none, his gaze wandered the yard.

“If you’re looking for Storm she’s over there.”

Logan turned, facing a youth he’d seen grow over the past few years from child to teen. “Artie.” Logan acknowledged with a cursory grunt.

Artie smiled before rushing out into the yard to join the fray.

Logan turned in the direction Artie had pointed, his mouth nearly falling open to see “Stick-up-her-ass-Storm”, as he was known to refer to her as--at least when she wasn’t in earshot, rolling around in the snow, making what appeared to be snow angels. He shook his head. No way.

“Logan!”

A familiar southern voice reached his ears. He braced for impact as Marie came running towards the steps, but to his surprise, and somewhat disappointment she stopped a few feet from where he stood, seeming content to simply smile at him. “Hey, kid,” he greeted.

“Did you just get back?”

He gestured at his rugged and disheveled appearance and she laughed. “Ok, dumb question.” She turned her attention from him to the snow for a moment. “Sticking around for more than a minute this time?”

Ouch. “If it suits me,” he answered vaguely.

“Hm.” Marie cocked her head, her look contemplative. “Is it always about you?” she asked, echoing Magneto’s words from what felt like forever ago.

The words pricked a nerve. “Hey, I just rolled in. How about you pretend you’re glad to see me and stop with the interrogation.”

For a moment a look of hurt crossed her delicate features, but she shook it off with her usual aplomb and said, “Well, it’s good to have you back.” She smiled, bounced off the steps and left him alone.

“Great,” he muttered. “Back five minutes and I’m already acting like an ass.”

“Charming as ever I see.”

Logan cocked a brow at the large blue man hanging upside down from the roof. “Furball.”

“Growly.”

That made him blink. “Growly?”

Hank grinned, his teeth remarkably white against his indigo fur. “I’m rather fond of Ororo’s nickname for you.”

Double blink. “’Ro calls me Growly?”

“Among other things I am certain.” Hank was enjoying this.

Logan snorted. Of all the ridiculous… “Growly?”

Hank laughed, whapping Logan on the back as he somersaulted from the roof. “It could be worse, dear boy. It could be worse.”

“What’d I tell you about callin’ me boy?”

Hank shrugged. “I believe entrails were mentioned, but I tend to tune you out.”

“Hnh.”

“Indeed.”

After a few minutes Logan, who was watching as Ororo took to the air and assailed the students with a whirlwind of snow, asked, “What’s she doing out there? Some sort of training exercise.”

This earned a chuckle from Hank. “I do believe Ororo is playing.”

“Hnh.”

“Conversation with you is simply titillating.”

“I ain’t much for talkin’.”

“No doubt.”

“You gonna stand here all day and make satirical jabs at me, blue boy?”

“As delightfully invigorating as that sounds, no.” Hank clapped his shoulder. “Come, I just brewed some fresh coffee when I got here. Join me?”

“I gotta let ‘Ro know I’m here.”

“She knows.”

That gave Logan pause. “She does?”

“Watched you ride through the gates on your chariot of steel and gas.”

“Hnh.” And she hadn’t come to greet him or lecture him that his place was there, with them? He tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment he felt at that, not entirely understanding why he was longing for a harp-fest from Ororo.

“Come, let us partake of my Kona brew.”

Logan followed Henry back into the mansion, but couldn’t help but cast a look over his shoulder as he did. Ororo was standing, covered in snow, her smile as bright as the sun. Sensing his eyes on her she looked up and waved.

Closing the door behind him Logan’s steps were lighter.

Hank had exceptionally good taste, Logan had to admit as he downed his second cup of Kona coffee. He set his black mug on the countertop, leaning back in his barstool. He reached for an apple from the fruit bowl, tossing it up and down in his palm. “What brings you to the Mansion?” he asked before taking a bite.

Hank savored the robust flavor of his coffee, letting it linger on his tongue before swallowing. He set his cup aside, facing Logan directly. “Most probably the same thing that brings the return of your nomadic self.”

Logan wiped the back of his hand across his chin, removing the sweet juices that dribbled from the apple. “And that is?”

Hank smiled. “Why the holidays of course. One always wishes to be home for the holidays.”

Home. Logan had never really had a home, and he wasn’t all the comfortable with the ideas of settling down roots in any one place. But hadn’t he already begun to? Hadn’t he left his room with clothes still in it and drawers still stocked, as if he had left planning to return? “Hnh.” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe.”

“So, tell me, Logan, did you find what you were looking for on your latest journey?” Hank asked mildly.

“Didn’t find much of anything. Most of the trails to my past are dead cold.”

Hank lifted his cup, regarding Logan over the rim. “And that was what you were searching for? Your past?”

Dark brows furrowed. “What else would I be looking for?”

Henry shrugged his broad shoulders. “Often times, in my life, I’ve discovered that when searching for something, it can frequently be found right under my nose.”

Logan gave him a dubious look. “Just what the flamin’ hell is that supposed to mean?”

Conversation was interrupted as the back door opened and a flurry of snowflakes swirled inside, moments before Ororo strolled through. She smiled at both men, stamping her feet to shake the snow from her boots. She stripped her gloves and untangled her scarf, draping it over her arm. “Mmmm…something smells delicious.” She closed her eyes, inhaling.

With a refreshed flush to her face and icy sparkles shimmering in her white tresses, Ororo was the embodiment of winter beauty. She looked fresh as the falling snow. She opened her eyes, catching his stare. Logan swallowed his piece of apple, grimacing as it lodged in his throat. “Coffee,” he choked out, fisting his chest.

Henry’s eyes twinkled with mirth. He turned away from Logan and offered Ororo a sip of his blend.

“No, thank you,” she said. “It smells divine, but I really have to get started on lugging the decorations down from the attic.”

Hank rose to his feet. “Would you like some assistance?”

Ororo nodded with genuine appreciation. “Thank you, Hank. I could use the help.”

“It will be just like old times.” The words were out before he could call them back and for a moment both Ororo and Hank’s smiles faltered.

Clearing his throat, Hank plastered on another smile. “Lead the way, my dear.”

At the swinging door, Ororo cast Logan a glance over her shoulder. “Well, don’t just sit there. Come on.”

Logan gave her a startled look. “What?”

“You’ve got muscles. Let’s put them to use.”

***

The attic was remarkably well kept, Logan noticed. Boxes and tubs were stacked and organized, and dust was at a minimal. Sometimes he wondered if Xavier had mind tricked all the X-Men into becoming mildly anal retentive about cleanliness. The place was always immaculate.

Ororo laughed, a soft throaty sound that distracted him. She was looking at Henry who had pulled a Santa cap over his head and puffed out his belly. “You look ridiculous,” she grinned, pulling the cap off. She tugged it onto her own head and pranced around the boxes, humming.

She, on the other hand, looked damn adorable, Logan thought. If Santa had a Mrs. Claus like that, no way in hell was he working in the toy shop with the elves. Shaking himself from his thoughts Logan began to help carry boxes up and down the stairs.

Twenty minutes and five trips later, Logan asked, “Don’t we have a group of kids we can use for this? Like one powerhouse Russian, for example?”

Ororo made a face, blowing a strand of sweaty hair from her eye. “They’re enjoying the snow. Let them play. Don’t you remember what it was like to be a kid?”

He gave her a pokerfaced look. “No.”

Ororo appeared momentarily contrite and then she said, “Well, it’s not like you ever really grew up.”

He glowered. She grinned.

“Where the hell is Blueboy?” Logan demanded, hefting another box against his hip.

“I think he’s taking a call,” she informed him absently, reading the label on one of the plastic tubs: Hedge lights. She set the tub atop a similarly marked box.

“Well, then I say we take a break.” Logan set his box back on the floor, squatting next to it, wiping his arm across his head.

Ororo stood up from her crouch, rubbing her lower back. “Good idea.” She took a seat on the floor across from him, her head leaned back against cardboard. “Welcome back, by the way.”

He inclined his head, acknowledging her welcome. “I was beginning to think you didn’t miss me.”

“Of course I missed you.” Her answer was simple and honest.

It took a second for Logan to digest that. “Really?” He doubted anyone had ever missed him before. Perhaps Marie, but it was different hearing Ororo say it.

“You’re my friend. Why wouldn’t I miss you?”

He chose not to answer that. “I can’t believe you do this shit every year.”

Ororo nodded. “It’s tradition.” She peered at him thoughtfully. “You’ve never been here for the decorating.” Logan had a tendency to disappear around the holidays. She got the impression all the good cheer and familial affection didn’t sit well with him.

“Never much got into Christmas.” He gave her an appraising look. “Didn’t really peg you as the Christmas type, either.”

“I’m not, at least not in the religious sense. Considering my faith.” She gestured towards the boxes of decorations. “For me, it’s not about anything other than family. A way for us to share in the beauty and joy of the season.”

“Hnh.” Logan draped his arm over his knee, his eyes watchful. “You sound like a cheesy card.”

Her brows came down in a disgruntled look. “You asked.”

“So I did.”

Deciding she didn’t like being scrutinized, she turned the tables. “What about you, Logan? Why come back for the holidays?”

“This is where I live.”

“Is it?”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means,” she stood, “that more often than not, this is a pit stop for you.” She picked up a small box, tucking it under her arm. “I want you to think about why you’re here. I mean really think about it.”

“You tryin’ to get me to leave?”

She shook her head, snorting. “No, Logan. You do that all on your own.” She touched her free hand to his shoulder as she passed. “I’m hoping that you stay.”

Logan watched her go, his insides tight. She wanted him to stay? But why? The only other times she’d ever asked him to stay was to help fight, but there was nothing to fight now, so why did she want him to stay? He didn’t know the answer, but he intended to find out.

Inhaling the mingled scents of cinnamon and pine and cranberry candles, Ororo wandered the halls of the mansion. Christmas music and off-key singing filled the air, blending with the aroma of fresh baked gingerbread cookies, giving the Institute a warm, homey feeling. More lighthearted than she had been in months, Ororo gave into the urge and lent her voice up to the rousing ballad of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer that her students were currently singing as they strung lights around the grand staircase banisters.

“Your voice ain’t half bad.” The subtle rumble to his voice told her he had just woken.

Ororo turned. Logan stood directly behind her, comfortably leaning against the ornately carved hall cabinet, his hair, always disheveled was still rumpled from sleep. She bestowed him a brilliant smile. “Good Morning, Logan. Sleep well?”

Logan considered that question for a moment, mildly surprised by his own answer. “Like a log,” he admitted.

Ororo chuckled. “After that long drive and then me making you lug Christmas decorations all afternoon, it’s no wonder.” It had taken them the better part of the afternoon and evening to lug, haul and set up the lights, nick-knacks and ornate lawn decorations. The students had helped, as had Hank, but between snowball fights, lunches, business calls and various other “to-do’s” people had, the bulk of the work had been done by Logan and Ororo.

She had been pleasantly surprised to find herself truly enjoying his company. Logan had a quirky sense of humor that he rarely showed, she found out. Besides being a hard worker. He had continued to organize and set up even after exhaustion had made her a heap on one of the grand wingchairs.

“Guess not,” he shrugged, uncrossing his arms. He took in her attire: winter boots, worn jeans, thick cable sweater, wool hat and suede gloves in hand. She looked like a woman on a mission. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

She started walking again, as if his question had prompted her, heading for the front foyer. “The tree,” she told him over her shoulder.

“All by yourself?”

“Hank and Peter are headed to the boathouse shed to get the ornaments and lights. They’re going to meet me in awhile when they’re done. There‘s some coffee and snack cakes in the kitchen if your hungry. I shouldn‘t be long.” She tugged off her hat, readjusting it. Her stark white hair shimmered in the early morning sunlight filtering through the large bay window, it’s luminosity creating a halo effect around her face.

Something kicked in Logan’s gut. “Want an extra pair of hands?” he offered.

Ororo blinked, surprised, but immensely pleased with the offer. “Absolutely. That is, if you’re up for it.”

He cocked his head, gray eyes wicked. “That some sort of challenge, darlin’?”

She laughed, soft and throaty and once more he felt a pull in his stomach…and lower.

“Not a challenge so much as I want you to know exactly what you’re getting yourself into. We don’t just cut down any old tree, Logan, it has to be the perfect one. This process takes time, patience. Not things that you’re exactly renowned for,” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. I think I can pick out a decent tree, ‘Ro. I’ve been around enough of ‘em.”

She tugged her cap back on her head and immediately he found himself missing the shock of snow colored tresses. He almost asked her to take her hat off again. Almost.

“I’m sure you can. But it’s not up to you…or me for that matter,” she informed him as she opened the door.

“Ok, ya got me. So, how, exactly then are we gonna pick this perfect tree?”

“We don’t. It picks us.”

Logan gave her a look. “You gone mental?”

“No.” She tossed him another blinding smile. “Just trust me.” She stepped onto the porch. “Besides, it’s tradition.”

Logan groaned. He had heard that exact statement about a hundred times the other day. Each time it had been uttered, some arduous, pain in the ass task had to be done. He shook his head, grabbing one of the spare jackets from the closet and following her out. “Here we go again.”

* * *

The wind was crisp with a definite bite to it, but the day couldn’t have been more lovely, Ororo thought as she and her companion trudged through the woods roughly two miles behind the school. Large, fluffy flakes began to drift from the sky. Snow sat perched along pine needle branches, glimmering in the sunlight, creating an almost otherworldly feel around them.

The back woods were one of her favorite locations on the grounds. Away from the hustle and bustle, noise and demands. It was peaceful. Serene. Quiet.

“Trees talkin’ to ya yet, Storm?” Logan asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She scrunched her nose, blushing a bit at being caught off in la-la land. She held her arms aloft and closed her eyes. Snowflakes swirled in a flowing spiral up and around her body before filtering away and out, almost like wings or an outstretched hand. “Mmmhmm.”

“Anyone of ‘em in a hurry to be chopped down.” He dug the ax into the snow, rubbing his hands together. His healing factor kept him from freezing, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take a chill. He blew into his cupped palms. “You know, with your obsession with plants, I woulda figured you for the fake tree type.”

Ororo shrugged and opened her eyes. “That’s why I choose the tree.” She inclined her head, as though actually listening to the firs and pines. “It has to be one that is in need to be chopped.” She clenched the tip of her glove between her teeth, tugging the Isotoner from her slender fingers. “A tree in need of relief.”

The look Logan gave her told her that he wasn’t altogether certain of her mental state after all. She puffed out a small breath, watching the tendrils of steam for a second before elaborating. “When a tree dies, it’s a long process. I can…feel it’s pain…”

One dark brow rose. “You feel it?”

“Here.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not crazy. Everything in life is connected, Logan. The trees to the land, and water, the water to the sky, and all of it to each other. There is as much a connection between nature and man as mother to child.” She tilted her head back, letting the swirling snowflakes fall onto her closed lashes. When she lifted her head her warm brown eyes were ringed arctic white, a sign of turbulent emotions. “I can feel these trees, and their pain, as clearly as I can feel yours.”

That one caught him off guard. “I ain’t in any pain.”

“Maybe not physically.”

“Maybe not at all,” he grumbled, irritated. “No psycho babble, Storm. Just point out a tree for me to whack and we can get on our way.”

She stood quietly, regarding him. “Why are you so afraid of connection?”

He turned his face away, exhaling. “I really, really wanna knock a fuckin’ tree down. So let’s move it.”

“I do believe I mentioned patience before we came out here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He stomped his feet, pounding down a patch of snow.

“We don’t have to talk about it--”

“There ain’t nothing’ to talk about,” he cut in, jerking the ax from the ground.

Ororo sighed, recognizing a wall when one was thrown up in front of her. “Fine.” She strode towards him, stopping just in front of him. “If you won’t talk to me, at least be honest with yourself. You came back for a reason, Logan. Whether you admit it or not, there’s a connection for you here. Even without Jean-- Without Xavier, you came back. This place, these kids…they mean something to you.”

He didn’t look at her.

“Now you’re just being stubborn.”

Still nothing.

“Ok. Fine.” She pressed the palm of her hand to one whiskered cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Maybe you don’t want to say anything. It’s scary to admit you have a heart, I know, but it’s the holidays. You can blame the sentimentality on that.”

Logan inhaled against her wrist, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

Grey eyes opened and glittered down at her. “Storm…”

Full lips parted slightly, a soft breath escaping. “Yes?”

“I’m feelin’ plenty connected right now.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, cradling her delicate jaw. “And it’s got not a damn thing to do with the holidays.”

She leaned into his touch. He bent his head.

The first feather light caress of her lips against his sent a jolt through Logan. For a brief second he wondered if her mutant power had caused it, but the almost immediate pooling of blood into his lower regions told him that wasn’t the case.

“There you are!” Hank McCoy’s rich baritone caused the two of them to spring apart as if doused with ice cold water. Logan wanted to simultaneously gut the man and thank him at once. What was he thinking? Kissing Ororo? What was wrong with him? More to the point, what the hell was wrong with her?

Logan glanced at Ororo but she had her face averted, already waving to Hank and Peter as they walked towards them.

Hank’s bright blue fur stood out like a beacon against the white backdrop. “Any luck in procuring us a Christmas tree?”

“Not so far,” Logan said, eyes still on Ororo.

“A healthy harvest of trees this year?” Hank asked.

Ororo blinked. “Hm?”

“Distracted by this beautiful weather, dear Ororo?” Hank questioned with a twinkle in his eye.

Distracted, yes. By the snow? No. “Give me a minute. I‘ll get a higher vantage point.” She took to the air, shooting upwards straight as an arrow. Logan suspected it was less to tree-hunt and more to get some space between herself and him.

“I still think it’s weird that she can feel trees,” Peter commented, watching his headmistress float above them.

“Ororo is a woman full of many special gifts.” Hank observed idly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Logan?”

Logan shifted his weight, buffering the question. “I think ’Ro doesn’t need us gossiping about her like a bunch of school girls.”

“It isn’t gossip to state the truth.” Hank responded, voice mild.

Logan had no reply for that.

Snow twirled up from the ground as Ororo landed. “I think our tree has found me.” She turned to Peter. “It’s just over that hill. It‘s rather large, so we may need the sleds.”

“Very good. Logan and I will fetch the snowmobiles while you and Peter tend the tree.” Hank offered.

“Sounds like a plan.” Logan turned, plodding his way back towards the school without another word.

Hank raised his brows at Ororo, who in turn shrugged. “Don’t look at me.”

“Oh, but I am looking at you.”

She knew then that Henry had seen her and Logan. “I don’t want a lecture.”

Her oldest friend merely smiled. “And none are forthcoming. You are quite beyond the years of needing someone to deliver cautionary lectures.”

“Oh.”

“We shall return shortly.” Hank bounded after Logan leaving Ororo staring at their retreating backs, more confused than ever.

Logan stood staring at the enormous fir tree currently taking up a significantly large portion of the den. Decorated with hundreds of ornaments and colored lights and strewn with tinsel it practically screamed Christmas. The lighted bulbs twinkled, their shimmer reflected in the blown glass balls, making a spectacular scene. It was-- even he had to grudgingly admit-- one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, but even the fir tree’s luminosity paled in comparison to the smile on Ororo’s face.

Preoccupied with hanging decorations on the limbs she didn’t seem to realize he was there. He took the opportunity to simply watch her. It wasn’t something he had a chance to do often. She was rarely in any one place for very long. In like the wind, was the expression, he thought.

Looking at her now, Logan admired the subtle strength in her form. Ororo moved with an effortless grace, at one with herself and her surroundings. It was something he had noticed about her day one. It was…appealing…to watch someone so unconsciously comfortable in their own skin.

Ororo bit her lip, scrutinizing the tree, then made a small “ah-ha” and nestled a snowman in the needles. The satisfied look on her face made his lips quirk.

“Well?” She asked, lifting her head. Not so oblivious to him after all. “What do you think?”

Logan shrugged, straightening away from the door jamb. “It ain’t bad.”

“Uh-huh.” Ororo wiped her hands on her jeans, leveling him an amused stare. “It’s beautiful. Admit it.”

He took in her sparkling eyes and brilliant smile. Her white tresses were mussed from working outdoors and she still had a rosy hue to her cheeks and chin. She looked fresh and clean and “Beautiful,” he stated, not looking at the tree.

Ororo was astute enough to catch that. She cleared her throat, looked away, then held out one of the blown glass bulbs. “It’s Christmas tradition here that everyone place an ornament on the tree and make a wish on it.”

He gave her his patented ‘you’ve got to be shittin’ me’ look.

She jangled the dangling decoration. “Come on. It’s tradition.”

“What isn’t?” He rolled his eyes and stepped forward to grasp the ornament. His thick fingers brushed over hers as he slid it from her hands.

Ororo inhaled a sharp breath. Her hand trembled slightly.

Logan felt that reaction, as small as it was, straight to his adamantium laced bones.

Her eyes lifted to his. Time hung in limbo. She was so damn beautiful.

“Where do I hang it?” he asked, voice gruff and low.

Her throat felt too tight, too raw. “Anywhere that feels right to you.” She finally managed to get out.

His hands came up, unexpectedly, framing her face before his fingers slid into her hair. He stroked the strands back with a gentleness that belied his reputation for aggressive violence. He carefully lowered the silver hook over her ear, leaving the ornament bobbing against her cheek, bent his head to sniff her throat, then abruptly left the room.

Ororo blinked, completely baffled. “What the heck just happened?”


***

“What the hell just happened?” Logan asked himself, digging his hands into the tufts of hair on either side of his head, pacing the front porch. What in the hell had gotten into him? It sure as shit wasn’t the Spirit of Christmas, because the thoughts running through his head were anything but Holy. Her scent still clung to his nasal passage and that alone was driving him towards some sort of invisible edge. “Get it together, man.” He grabbed a fistful of snow from the railing and rubbed it over his face and neck.

“Perhaps that would be best suited…elsewhere.”

Logan peeked from between his fingers to find an amused pair of blue eyes staring back at him. Henry’s gaze flickered downward, then back up and his amusement seemed intensified.

Logan shook the snow from his hands, glaring at the fellow mutant. “Bein’ cute right now, McCoy, could be very, very detrimental to your health.”

Hank only grinned. “I cannot help how implausibly adorable I am. I suppose it has something to do with the abundance of blue fur. Jubilee once told me I looked like a Care Bear on steroids. Which, I am to assume, was meant to be some sort of compliment…”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearin’ your own voice.”

“Truthfully, no.”

Logan glowered. Hank laughed.

“She has you all out of sorts, doesn’t she, my boy?”

Logan let the “boy” slide. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Henry scoffed good naturedly. “Even you, with your metal enhanced cranium, can’t be that thick.”

Logan waved him off, stomping down the steps. “Mind your own business, Fur-Ball.”

Henry watched him go. “I would, friend, if you weren’t making such a blunder of the whole situation…” He bounced from the porch, heading to the boathouse shed. Being as it was December and not February, Cupid wasn’t about to show up anytime soon to help them out, so that meant it was up to Henry.

***
a few hours later…

Ororo stirred her cocoa absentmindedly.

“I do believe all of your marshmallows have melted.”

“Hm?” She lifted her head, clearly distracted. “I’m sorry, Henry, did you say something?”

“Nothing of any great import.” He opened the cupboard, removing a mug. “Heading to the balcony?”

“Mm.”

“Mind if I join you?”

She gave him a warm smile. “Not at all. Your company is always welcome.”

He finished making his drink. “You do know how to make a man feel cherished.”

“I do cherish you.”

“And I you.”

She pulled him to her in a friendly hug. “Shall we?”

“But of course.” Henry linked her hand under his thick arm.

The night air was crisp; the sky pitch black and littered with stars. “It’s a lovely night.” Ororo said quietly.

Henry agreed. “It’s a night perfect for a brisk walk and a snuggle by the fire.”

Ororo cocked him a look. “Is that an offer, Mr. McCoy?”

“More of a suggestion.”

Ororo took a deep breath, inhaling the cold air. “It’s a delightful one. It’s been a long time since we’ve snuggled.”

Henry peered at her over his frothy mug. “I was thinking more along the lines of Logan.”

Ororo coughed, choking on her cocoa. “Henry, I had no idea he was your type.”

“Oh, very droll, Ms. Munroe.”

She bowed. “Thank you.”

There was a long pause between them.

Henry inclined his head. “So, is that suggestion still as appealing with Logan in the picture?”

Ororo sighed. Somehow she had known this was coming. “Logan isn’t the kind of guy one snuggles with, Blue.”

“I would not have assumed he was the kind of guy one kissed in the snow either, but it appears I was wrong once. Perhaps you’re wrong now.”

“Henry--It’s…complicated.”

“Ah.” He nodded sagely. “Complicated. The best, most categorical excuse in the world.”

She shot him a narrow look. “It’s not an excuse. In fact, I don’t have to excuse myself for anything…what you saw--or thought you saw--was two people caught up in a moment. Nothing more.”

“Ah, yes, because two such as you and the indomitable Wolverine are so easily overcome by sentiment.”

He had her there. “It’s Christmas…”

“I was unaware you had converted.”

She could see the snare. “I haven’t.”

“Then Christmas hardly seems the reason for such ‘sentiment’. An African Priestess and an Atheist, overcome with Christmas spirit…hmm…perhaps you should try and convince yourself with a different excuse.”

And he had her trapped neatly once more. “What would you like me to say, Henry? That I find him attractive?”

He shrugged one broad shoulder. “That would be a start.”

“Well, of course I find him attractive. He’s dark, dangerous, and brooding. Any woman with a pulse would find that lure appealing.”

“I didn’t realize those were such hot commodities.”

She shifted away from her friend, staring up at the sky. “Attraction is easy. Anything more than that…is too hard.”

“For whom, Ororo? You or him?”

“Me. Him. Both of us.” She threw up her hands. “Why are we even having this conversation? The issue is irrelevant. Logan is Logan. He comes in, shakes things up, and is off again before the dust settles.”

“Ah, now we get to the heart of it.” Henry took a seat on the marble bench.

Ororo said nothing.

“You are frightened of just how much he shakes you up.”

She placed her mug on the rail with a soft oath. “Why are you so unrelenting in this?”

To his credit Henry mulled that question over before forging ahead with his answer. “Perhaps because I see what could be between the two of you.”

She seemed skeptical. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“Love.”

She shook her head. “He loved once. That wound is still raw.”

Hank nodded. “He did love. But there is more to love than love.”

“Okay, you’re not making any sense.”

He brushed snow from his fur before continuing. “Respect. Admiration. Trust. The list goes on and on; it’s endless, Ororo. Love is made up of many things, not merely attraction and tenderness.”

“Henry, I kissed the man, I didn’t swear lifelong fidelity to him.” Ororo shifted so that she was leaning with her elbows against the banister. Her smile was a bit wistful. “You’re overly romanticizing it.”

“And I think you’re underestimating it.”

“Doubtful.”

He grimaced then grinned. “Stubborn wench.”

She laughed. “Idealistic nutcase.”

“Fair enough.” They finished their cocoa in silence.

“Well, if the snuggling by the fire is out of the question, then I am going to bed. Tomorrow is a big day,” she said.

Henry nodded. “Ah yes, Christmas Eve.”

“I thought where we have so many young students this year, perhaps we could read The Christmas Story earlier, say around seven?”

“That will be just fine.”

“Excellent.” She pressed a kiss to his furry cheek. “I love to listen to you read that story to the children. It makes me all mushy.”

Henry laughed. “You’re a big kid deep down, Ororo, you know that?”

“Some days.” she smiled. “Some days I do.”

Henry watched the balcony door close behind her, his gaze speculative. If he had read her reaction correctly Ororo wasn’t nearly as convinced that she and Logan had merely “had a moment” as she would like to believe herself to be. Perhaps, all she needed was a little nudge to help clear her thinking. And what he needed were some mischievous elves…

“Sleigh Bells ring, are you listening…In the lane snow is glistening…” Ororo bobbed her head to the tune she was singing as her hands busily laced lights beneath fur trimmed red satin. She carefully held the fabric in place with a long pin, running her hands over the material to make certain that there weren’t any tips poking through. She had decided at the last minute to dress up her holiday cloak, and thus far, she was delighted with the results. In fact, since she had awoken this morning everything had been moving along flawlessly.

She pooled the cloak alongside the large wingback that was to be the Story-Time chair. It was next on her “to-do” list. She gathered up the crushed red velvet blanket that Charles had always used on his bed during the holidays, and draped it over the chair. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t mind. For her, it was a little reminder of him during the celebrations that he held so dear.

Crouching down, she opened her sewing kit, debating on where and how to pin the fabric to the chair. She folded the material over itself like a flap to hide her stays and began singing once more.

“Well, someone sure is in the holiday spirit.”

Ororo glanced up from her task. “Hello, Jubilee,” she greeted the petit Asian girl with a smile around a mouthful of T-pins. “How are you?”

“Ehn.” Jubilee tossed herself back in one of the other chairs, blowing a large pink bubble. She took great pleasure in the resounding pop it made. “Same as always.”

“Don’t get any gum on the seats,” Ororo warned.

Jubilee dutifully sucked the candy back into her mouth. She watched Ororo fold and pin for a few minutes. “So, how long before we start all the hullabaloo?”

Ororo pulled a pin from between her lips and fashioned the last tuck to the side of the chair. She cocked her head, appraising the placement. Satisfied, she let the fabric drape back as it was. Assembling her kit back into order she answered, “The ’hullabaloo’ starts in an hour with the Christmas games, dinner at five-thirty, followed by story time at seven, songs by the fire at eight and then lights out at ten.”

“Cool.” Jubilee uncrossed her legs and righted herself. “Oh, by the way, the tree lights went out.”

“What? When?”

“Dunno.” Jubilee shrugged.

Ororo sighed. So much for her flawless day. “Okay, I’ll have a look at it. Would you do me a favor and return my sewing kit to the laundry room?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” Ororo passed off her things.

Jubilee smiled as Ororo left the room. “Anytime.”


***

The den was deserted save for the enormous fir tree and the scattering of presents beneath it‘s needled canopy. The lower half of the tree blazed with all its Christmas glory, lights twinkling. Ororo glowered at the offending upper portion of the tree that was currently unlit.

She rolled her shoulders, took a breath and let her eyes go white. One of her many under used talents was her ability to see energy patterns. Electrical currents were actually quite easy for her to follow, but she wasn’t limited to them. She could follow any form of energy, even the life force that drove a person. The tree lights wouldn’t be too much of a hassle, even with all their winding and twisting.

She placed her hand along the cord, following the glowing trail. Concentrating as she was on her task she wasn’t aware anyone else had entered the room, so she nearly jumped out of her skin when Logan asked, “What the heck ya doin’ to the tree, ‘Ro?”

She blinked rapidly, her vision shifting from energy seeking to normal. “What?”

Logan gave her a look. “The tree. Any reason your molestin’ it?”

Ororo glanced at where her hands were entwined in the cords. “The lights went out.”

“Yeah, no shit. That’s why I grabbed these.” He held up a small package of spare bulbs. “Just needs a replacement bulb or two.”

“Oh.” She stepped back. “I wasn’t aware you were fixing the problem.”

He shrugged. “Not much of a problem. Jubes popped a couple of the lights with her mini fireworks. She had a tizzy, but I told her it was easy enough to fix.”

Ororo frowned. If Jubilee had already had Logan taking care of the problem, then why send her? She shrugged, as randomly excitable as Jubilee was, it was hard to say what was running through the girl’s mind half the time. “Well, seeing as how you’ve got this under control, I’ll get out of your hair.” She was still uncertain as to what exactly had transpired between them the day before and Hank’s words from last evening were still ringing in her ears. Staying near Logan right now wasn’t advisable, yet she couldn’t seem to move away.

“Suit yourself.” He was already replacing the bulbs.

Ororo watched his bent form, admiring the way the denim clung to his muscular thighs and backside. She shook her head. Goddess above, she was a mess.

“What was that, ‘Ro?”

Had she spoken out loud? “Can you cook?” she blurted.

Logan glanced back over his shoulder. The look he sent her told her that he had caught her initial statement, but he let it go. “I do a mean barbeque.”

“Hmm. I don’t think barbeque turkey would go over all that well.” She tried a smile.

One broad shoulder lifted. “Ya never know.”

“True.”

“Why’d you ask?”

Think, think, think. “The meal needs to be started soon and with everything else that needs to be done, I could use an extra pair of hands.”

Logan finished replacing the lights. The tree flickered back to life. “I’ll give you a hand, but I’m not big on decoratin’ and bakin’.”

Ororo smirked. “That rules out most everything. You could give the boys a hand setting up for the games.”

“Games?”

“Yeah. We have a toboggan race, a snowman build off, ice skating, candy cane hunt…”

“Ok, ok.” He held up his hand. “You don’t do anything half-ass do ya?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Their eyes met. Silence stretched between the two of them.

Logan strode forward, stopping just in front of her. “Neither do I.”

Ororo watched his eyes change, their slate gray going darker, a fraction of a second before his mouth slanted over hers. He dragged her against his chest, his muscular arms circling her back, holding her as if she were somehow fragile. It made her feel oddly precious. Ororo had no idea how she was supposed to react, and all she could think to do was lend herself up to the moment and kiss him back.

His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, teasing her tongue into a heated foray. Ororo moaned softly, wrapping her arms around his neck--And just as suddenly as it had begun the kiss was over. Logan broke the contact abruptly.

“Logan?”

He glanced towards the door.

Ororo turned to see Artie staring at her like she’d grown two heads, eyes wide, mouth open. “Is this a bad time?”

She took a steadying breath. “No, Artie, of course not.”

The young mutant blinked at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Mistletoe,” he commented, answering the boy’s unspoken question.

“Oooh.” Artie nodded, as if that made all the sense in the world. “Mr. McCoy would like to see you.”

“Of course.” Ororo smoothed her hair.

“Uhm, not you, Ms. Munroe. Mr. Logan.”

“Oh.” She glanced at Logan, feeling flustered and uncertain.

“Beats me,” he shrugged, looking completely unruffled by the experience. “And it’s just Logan, kid.” He told the boy as he passed him.

Ororo watched him go, pressing her fingertips to her lips.

Artie coughed, shuffling his feet, getting her attention.

“Yes, Artie?”

“It’s nice seeing Mr. Logan here at Christmas. I really like him.” Ever since his rescue from Alkali Lake at Logan’s hands, Artie had maintained a certain amount of hero worship for him.

Ororo flushed. “Yes, he’s very nice,” she began carefully.

“So are you. He looks happy with you.” Artie continued. “I kinda figure, a man like him must not have had a whole lot of happiness in his life.” He stopped, flashed her a grin. “You gonna kiss him some more?”

Ororo placed the palm of her hand over her eyes. “Heaven help me.”

***

He had to stop kissing that woman.

Logan shook his head, berating himself for his rash behavior, yet finding it incredibly difficult to actually feel anything other than satisfied. She had kissed him back. He knew he was grinning, but couldn’t help it.

The brief contact between them in the woods could barely be called anything more than a peck, but what had just happened in the den was a full fledged, official kiss. A damn enjoyable one at that. He had been fighting the temptation to kiss her since the previous evening when she had asked him to hang an ornament on the tree, just like he was part of the family, part of the tradition.

She had no idea what that did to him.

However, as good as it felt, that didn’t mean he could keep doing it. Storm wasn’t just some frail, she was his friend and teammate. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he genuinely respected the woman, and didn’t want to risk ruining the fledgling bond that was forged between them in the aftermath of Xavier’s passing.

He would simply have to keep himself focused on the professional aspects of their relationship.

She tasted like peppermint candy canes and chocolate.

Yeah, way to focus, Bub.

Logan marched through the corridors towards Hank’s office, determined to forget about kissing Ororo and how sweet she tasted.

His attention was caught by Marie as she exited the elevator. “Hey, you,” she waved. “Where you headed?”

“Hey, kiddo. The big blue fur-ball beckons.”

Marie laughed, brushing a strand of white hair behind her ear. Her hair, a warm chestnut brown was forever changed by Magneto‘s invention. Despite early suggestions she dye the streak away, Marie had kept it. She said it was a fashion statement, Logan knew it was a reminder. She was far stronger than anyone ever gave her credit for.

She gestured back towards the elevator. “Yeah? Well, you won’t find him in his office. I think he’s in his room actually.”

Logan frowned. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Hey, you seen Storm? I‘m supposed to lend her a hand in the kitchen.”

Logan felt heat creep up along the back of his neck but chose to ignore it. “Den.”

“’Kay, thanks.” She gave his arm a friendly pat as she passed.

Logan made an about-face and headed towards the dorms. What in the hell did Blue boy want now, anyway?


***

“No.” His answer was firm and final.

“I wouldn’t ask if I thought my voice would hold out, but as you can see I am feeling a bit under the weather.” Hank coughed into his big furry hand. “Please, Logan. Think of the children.”

Logan cocked his head. “Are you seriously gonna use that line on me?”

Henry rubbed the bridge of his nose and heaved a sigh. “Look, this story is a tradition here. The children look forward to it every year. I can’t stand the idea of them being disappointed.”

Logan rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his head. “Get Petey to fill in. He’s kid-friendly.”

Henry coughed again, pounding his chest for emphasis. “He will be busy handing out gifts.”

“Then get someone else. I’m not doing it.”

“There really isn’t anyone else available. Do you think you were my first choice? But, seeing as how you‘re dead set against it, I suppose we can cancel the story… If that’s your final answer.”

Logan was already heading for the door. “That it? That’s all you wanted?”

“Yes.” Hank sighed. “Ororo will be heartbroken. She looks forward to the reading so much.”

Hand on doorknob Logan hesitated. Damn it, damn it, “Damn it.”

Under the cover of his hand Henry smiled. “So, is that a yes?”

Logan growled.

Henry beamed. “Perfect.”

***

“Soooo….Is Logan a good kisser?”

Ororo nearly dropped the steaming apple pie in her hands right onto the brick tiles. She swore softly, placing her index finger in her mouth to soothe the burn. “What? Why? What?”

Marie burst into laughter. “Wow, if you could see your face.”

Ororo grimaced, puckering her lips around her tender digit.

“Well?” Marie prompted.

“Marie, I am not dignifying that question with a response.”

“I bet he is. Y’know, before I fell all “head over” for Bobby, I used to have a wee bit of a crush on Logan.”

Ororo placed her pie on the cooling rack. “Marie--”

She continued as though Ororo hadn‘t spoken. “I used to wonder what his stubble would feel like, how his lips would taste. You know, all the girly things a person thinks about when they‘re fantasizing.”

His stubble felt wonderful and he tasted of the wilderness…but Marie didn‘t need to know that. “You should probably grab a few cans of cream of mushroom soup from the pantry.” Ororo decided the best course of action was to simply ignore the topic.

“Bobby is very gentle when he kisses me. Is Logan?”

“The green beans are already washed.”

“Something tells me he would be tender.”

“The casserole isn’t going to make itself.”

“Maybe a bit possessive, but definitely tender…”

Ororo shoved her hands into her hair. “Marie, honestly, I am not about to discuss how Logan kisses with you.”

“So, you have kissed him…”

Ororo turned. “What? Didn’t Artie-- never mind.” She waved her hands.

Marie perked up. “Wait, wait, wait. Did Artie see you and Logan in a compromising position?”

Ororo put on her best, practical face. “I merely assumed Artie may have mentioned that he caught me and Logan exchanging a kiss under the mistletoe in the den earlier. Nothing compromising about that.”

“Ah. Sounds reasonable.”

“Exactly.” Ororo resumed her baking.

Marie popped the top of the Campbell’s. “Except there isn’t any mistletoe in the den.”

Ororo groaned.

It was going to be a long day.

He looked ridiculous.

Logan gave his reflection a disgusted sneer. Clad in a pair of Hank’s striped flannel pajamas, complete with fuzzy slippers and nightcap, Logan knew it was official-- he was insane. How in the world had he got suckered into this shit? Oh, yeah, Fur-Ball told him Ororo would be heartbroken.

“Knock, knock. You ready---Oh, my stars and garters.”

Logan cast a narrow look over his shoulder. “Not a fuckin’ word.”

Hank threw up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it, friend.”

Logan‘s eyes narrowed further. “Funny thing, Fur-Ball, you sound fine.”

“Do I?” He shrugged. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

Logan nudged him with his elbow as he passed. “Oh, you’re definitely gonna be sorry.”

Hank smiled at Logan’s back. “You can thank me later.”

***

The downstairs den was alive with Christmas cheer. Lights twinkled, voices laughed, scents of the season wafted throughout the great mansion. Ororo walked through the throng of students and staff, smiling. The games had been a rousing success and fun for everyone. Bobby had of course won the snowman build-off, but had declined the trophy, instead passing it off to one of the younger children.

Dinner had been delicious and the company warm. She had even spotted Logan smiling from time to time. She had also caught him staring at her more than once. Never did he look away, simply lifted his beer in salute and winked at her. In good spirits, she had done the same with her wine.

They had suffered a great many losses this past year, but, now, as she watched the children scrambling for position on the carpet in front of the hearth, Ororo felt a swelling of thankfulness for everything they still had.

“Quite the crowd tonight.”

Ororo spun around. “Henry? Why aren’t you in costume? It’s almost time for the story--”

“Relax, Ororo. I have it covered.”

“What do you mean covered?”

Her friend simply smiled. “Just trust me. You should probably take your position,” he urged. When she didn’t budge he gently nudged her with his palm. “Go on. It’ll be fine. Promise.”

Ororo gave him a warning look before she dutifully shuffled forward, swirling her cloak around her shoulders as she went. She pressed the collar, lighting the fur trim. “Good evening boys and girls!” she called with a bright smile. “Is everyone ready for tonight’s story?”

“Yes!!” shouts and cheers replied.

“Wonderful!” Ororo glanced towards the hall entry where Hank normally bounded in from. The doorway was empty. She looked back towards Henry, who simply nodded, motioning for her to continue. “Well, then, I suppose we should get started. But first…we need something…Now,” she murmured thoughtfully. “What do we need?”

Many of the students knew the routine well. “A fire!”

“A roaring fire! What a splendid idea!” The children squealed in delight as with a wave of her hand sparks flew into the fireplace, igniting the logs there. “And now…” she glanced at the doorway again. Still empty. “For the…uhm…”

“Story.”

Ororo whirled. “Logan?” she whispered.

Sauntering into the room was a sight no one ever expected to see: The Wolverine in jammies, carrying a large book in one hand and a cup of cocoa in the other.

As if it were an every day occurrence Logan sat in the decorated wingback, placed his cocoa on the side table, tossed the bobbing nightcap ball over his shoulder and opened the storybook.

Eyes wide, mouths open, the children simply stared…waiting…

Logan cleared his throat. “So, anyone of you rugrats know how this thing’s supposed to go?”

Henry grimaced. “Oh, no.”

Ororo opened her mouth, but closed it when she saw Logan shoot her a look from the corner of his eye. “Anyone?”

A tentative hand went up.

“You.” Logan pointed to the slim young boy.

“Uhm…It starts with ‘Twas the night before Christmas.”

Logan nodded, skimming the text. “So it does.” He sat back in the chair and began reading, his gruff voice sounding oddly endearing. During the course of the story he pretended to get stumped so that the children had to prompt him. As the story progressed the students became more animated, laughing as Logan called off the wrong names to the reindeer.

“Now Dasher, now Dancer, Spaghetti and Chicken--”

“Nooooo!” laughter echoed across the room.

“No?”

“Prancer and Vixen!”

“Oh.” Logan nodded. A few minutes later, he demanded, “Where the heck is Rudolph in this story?”

From her seat Ororo watched Logan engage the children and something inside of her shifted, melted, turned into a puddle of goo.

From the back of the room Henry watched his friend’s face as she watched Logan. Seeing her in that unguarded moment, he knew that what he was about to do next was the right decision. He tapped Jubilee on the shoulder.

She turned, winked and whispered, “Operation mistletoe is a go.”

From across the room Marie gave the thumbs up, as did Bobby and Peter.

Hank grinned. The two of them didn’t stand a chance.

***

A few hours later…

Ororo placed Xavier’s carefully folded velvet blanket and book in a plastic bag, stacking it, along with some other items from the evening’s events. As she tidied up the storage area she admired the simple beauty of the snow topped Institute outside the boathouse basement window. In the morning the mansion would be a mass of chaos with toys, paper, ribbons and bows tossed about, but for now it was peaceful and lovely.

“I’m damn glad this day is almost over.” Logan grunted, lowering the bundle of hooks, flags and ties from the games in his arms to the chair behind the door. He had long since changed from his story-time costume back into his faded denim, dark blue flannel and leather jacket.

“I can imagine.” Ororo smiled. “You took quite a hit to your fierce and forbidden reputation tonight.”

“I’m sure I’ll scare the shit outta the brats again soon.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she laughed. He liked her laugh. “It’s practically a guarantee.” She placed the last of the tools and flags on the floor.

They spent several minutes stacking boxes in near silence.

“Spend two days taking shit out of storage only to be draggin’ it all back in.” Logan wiped his hand across his brow. “Seems like some form of seasonal ocd.”

Ororo grinned. “You get used to it.”

“If you say so.”

“Thank you, though, Logan. Really.” She placed her hand on his arm. “What you did tonight…you were wonderful. I don’t have words, except, well, thanks.” She leaned up and brushed her lips across his cheek.

“’Ro…”

She stepped back, heading towards the stairs. She shouldn’t have kissed him again, not feeling as soft towards him as she did now. She needed time to build up her barriers. She lifted the hood of her cloak to conceal her face. “I need to go.”

At the door she stilled and turned her head to look at him. The movement was artlessly graceful and elegant. So very Ororo. “It’s good to have you home for the holidays, Logan.”

She grasped the handle.

He reached around her, placing his hand over hers. “I can hear your heartbeat, ‘Ro. Why are you so nervous?”

Ororo closed her eyes. “Logan…I…need to go.”

He removed his hand. Yes, she needed to go. Before he did something stupid. He followed her from the stairwell into the main area of the small boathouse. In the summer the four larger boathouses were used fro guests, potential new recruits and students, while the smaller ones, like the one they were in now, were mainly storage.

The upstairs, dark when they had entered was now illuminated in soft candlelight and multicolored Christmas lights. Ororo shot him a quick look.

“Ya got me,” he held up his hands. He sniffed. “I smell bubblicious and sweet pea shampoo.”

“Jubilee.”

Logan gave the room a once over. “She wasn’t alone.”

Ororo scrunched her face. “Marie.”

“Yup.”

Ororo rolled her eyes heavenward and wanted to bang the two girls heads together. Tied to each and every rafter were bundles of mistletoe. “Those two--” she yanked open the front door and stopped dead. “I don’t believe this.”

Logan peered over her shoulder. A wall of three foot thick ice blocked the exit.

“What in the world could they have been thinking?” Ororo demanded out loud.

“I think this might explain it.” Logan held up a small square. “We’ve been officially relieved of duty.”

Written in Henry’s neat scrawl was the message: Thought you two could use a break from the festivities. See you in the morning. Food and beverages in the fridge.

She glanced over at her companion. “Logan, what are you doing?”

He shrugged out of his jacket. “Making myself comfortable. Apparently we’re gonna be here for awhile.”

“I don’t believe this.” She shoved against the thick ice wall.

“Don’t think you’re gonna budge it,” he commented.

“Damn it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My company that unpleasant?”

Just the opposite. “It’s not that. I don’t like enclosed spaces.”

Logan recalled Xavier mentioning that to him once before. He moved forward, reached around her and closed the door. “Try not to think about it.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Besides, isn’t there some sort of tradition to be upholding right now?”

She had no time to think, much less respond before his arms closed around her, dragging her to him. He was at once hard, possessive, male. His mouth took hers with the same demanding urgency. Hot and hungry, he devoured her lips. Her body melted against his, arms sliding around his neck, anchoring herself. Her fingers brushed his nape, sinking into his hair as she met his tongue with her own.

Without conscious thought Logan pressed his hands to her sides, sliding them beneath the fabric of her blouse, moving up to cup the soft weight of her breasts in his palms. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight and he groaned. Soft little answering moans escaped from her lips, pushing him right to the edge of his self restraint.

In the soft light of the room her skin was luminous, flawless, inviting. Her breasts were full in his hands, her nipples taut peaks. “Maybe you should be stopping me now,” he suggested, thumbs brushing her tender flesh.

“I don’t think I can,” she murmured against his lips. “I don’t think I want to.”

He didn’t wait for her to change her mind. “You’re wearing too many damn clothes,” he swore, dragging his mouth from hers only long enough to tug her shirt free. He stared down at her exposed chest, growing harder at the sight of white lace cupping caramel skin.

“So. Are. You.” She punctuated between kisses.

Quickly they divested each other of their remaining clothes. Logan spread her cloak across the floor before gently lowering her onto it. Logan leaned back, running one hand over her calf, watching her with hooded, unreadable eyes. In the flickering candlelight Ororo lay, gloriously naked, her beautiful body sprawled before him like his very own Christmas present. And that’s what she was. A gift. His gift.

“Logan,” she smiled, tentatively.

Her hesitant smile tugged at something deep inside of him. To the rest of the world Ororo Munroe was flawless, perfect, out of reach and yet with him she was vulnerable. And fragile. It made him ache in ways he hadn’t ached before.

Ororo inhaled a sharp breath, Logan’s heated gaze making her body feel heavy and hot. She drank in the sight of him crouched above her, his body tense with desire. He had strong, muscular arms, broad, expansive shoulders, tight flat abs. Her eyes drifted lower. An amazing erection could be added to that list. She lifted her gaze to his, noticing the smoky hint to his eyes. “I want to touch you,” she told him.

Without a word he stretched out beside her, giving her free reign. Ororo rolled onto her side, her snow colored hair falling into her eyes. Logan brushed the strands back with his knuckles. She sighed, inhaling against his skin. She bent closer, her mouth trailing languidly across his neck. “You smell nice,” she murmured.

Logan closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her supple lips against his heated skin. His hands wandered of their own volition, stroking along the smooth curve of her back. She had the softest skin he had ever touched. He groaned faintly when her teeth nipped at his jugular.

“Mmmm,” Ororo sighed, leaning into his caress. “You have wonderful hands.”

“I’ve always hated my hands,” he confessed, unexpectedly. “Rough and big and made for killing.”

“Maybe you’re just not using them right,” she whispered, bringing the pad of his thumb to her lips and biting gently. He stiffened. She smiled, drawing his index finger into the soft cavern of her mouth. “Your hands are capable of many things, Logan.”

He caught her wrist, shackling her. “Be sure about this, ‘Ro.” His eyes were dark, glittering in the dim lights.

“Logan.” She gently disentangled her arm. “I know almost exactly what I’m doing.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.”

“Good enough for me.” He pulled her down, searching her eyes before claiming her mouth once more. He slid is hand down her body, stroking the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. He felt her shiver and took that response as his cue to press forward. He stroked his fingers along her damp seam. She pushed back against his hand, a soft moan that sounded like his name escaping her parted lips. He bent his head, suckling her breast, pulling the tip deep into his mouth.

Ororo’s knees bent up, allowing Logan greater access to her secrets, an action that he took full advantage of, rolling so that he was resting between her legs. He flicked his fingers faster and she bucked up against his hand. She cried out when he sunk two digits deep. “Logan!”

“That‘s it, darlin’. Come for me. God, you’re so damn beautiful.”

Ororo opened her eyes, grasping his face between her hands. “I want you inside of me, Logan. Deep inside of me.”

Jesus Christ! He shifted position, his erection at her center. She nodded. He thrust home, strong and sure. She was velvet soft and tight. She arched her hips to meet his. “Fuck, darlin’, you feel so goddamn good,” he panted. He thrust harder.

“You…too…” her words came out in hard breathes. “So good.”

“’Ro.” Her name was a husky, almost growl-like sound, escaping from his too tight throat. He slowed his pace, moving with exquisite slowness. He leaned his head back, watching her face as she took him in. He could see genuine rapture on her face and the sight was quite possibly one of the most beautiful he had ever seen, and one that would forever be etched in his mind. He framed her face with his big hands and kissed her. “I want more.”

Ororo tilted her head back. “More?” she was unsure of what he meant.

“Than one night,” he growled, shifting his hips so that he rubbed her most sensitive area.

Ororo gasped, both from pleasure and shock. “I don’t know if I can give you more than this, Logan.”

“You can.” He stroked his hand over her sweat dampened hair. “You just have to trust me.” He thrust and snapped his hips at the same time.

Ororo closed her eyes, fingers scoring his shoulders. “Oh!”

“Trust me,” he encouraged.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, body aching, approaching orgasm.

“Yeah, you do,” he told her, anchoring her hips with his hands, pushing deeper. “You’ve always known.”

“Please, Logan, I can’t think…” She scrambled for rational thought as her inner walls tightened. She grit her teeth against the pleasure.

Seeing her like that heightened Logan’s own pleasure and he felt himself swell inside of her. He kissed her chin, nipped it. “You know why I came back,” he rasped.

Ororo shook her head. She was so close…

Logan slid almost completely out of her. “For you,” he whispered before surging home. “I came back for you.”

Ororo splintered beneath his physical and emotional onslaught. Her hands clamored across his back, pulling him down to her as she screamed her release into the night. He caught her close to his chest, pumping out his own release, calling her name on a ragged breath. When the room stopped spinning he would let go of her, he told himself, but for now he lay, spent, panting into her ear.

They lay on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, fighting for breath. She turned her head to look at him. “Did you really come back for me?”

Logan brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “At first I didn’t know why I came back,” he admitted. “I had a life before the X-Men, and I could have easily gone back to that, but I didn’t.”

Ororo waited patiently.

Logan shifted, raising himself up on one elbow. “I dressed up in old man pajamas just so you wouldn’t be unhappy.”

“That was very kind of you, the children--”

“Fuck, ‘Ro, I didn’t do it to be kind or for the damn kids. I did it because the very thought of you unhappy kills me. It tears me up. The thought of leaving and never seeing you again--it hurts.” He hated to admit that, but he knew if he wasn’t honest now he may not get the chance again. “I woke up this morning and you were the first thing on my mind, and the last thing I thought about last night.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help the hopeful flare she felt.

“Yes, really.” He touched her lips with his. “I’ve never had a Christmas present that I can remember, ‘Ro, and all I want for Christmas is you.”

Ororo swallowed the lump in her throat. She pulled him closer, meshing her lips to his. “Merry Christmas, Logan.”

***

Henry watched for Ororo and Logan from the porch. He had sent Peter to knock down Bobby’s ice wall and was now waiting for the results of Operation Mistletoe. He spotted Ororo first. She was walking up the walkway. Alone.

Hank sighed. What was the old expression? You could lead a horse to water…

Logan suddenly bounded from a snow drift, catching Ororo up in his arms. Over her head he held a ball of familiar berries.

Henry grinned, satisfied. To hell with old adages.

“So, how’d we do?” Jubilee asked, stepping onto the porch, jamming the earphones of her new MP3 player into her ears.

“See for yourself.” Hank gestured to the kissing couple.

“Sweet.” Jubilee grinned. “She was in serious need of sex.”

“Jubilee!” Henry admonished.

“What? Like you weren’t thinking that exact same thing.”

“What I was thinking, dear tone-deaf child, is that ’tis the season for new beginnings.”

“If you say so,” she bounced down the steps.

“I do,” he murmured. “I do say so, indeed.”

END