Chapter 1: School's out

It began on the day school let out for Christmas holidays, a sudden hush falling on the mansion and the school grounds. He'd granted her gruff praise and, later on the porch, a beer out of his jealously guarded stock of Molson's. They'd sat a while in silence, watching the zodiac turn over them while he smoked one of his stinky cigars.

The silence was comfortable and familiar like the smell of his leather jacket and the first of the mist making its appearance. She could already feel when it would begin to turn into dew, a tentative flutter behind her eyes telling her exactly how the delicate moisture came to fall on earth, her mind automatically finding the handle to tweak for turning 'eventually' into 'immediately', but she knew better. It was perfect like this for now.

They'd sat like this so many times, around camp fires, at the edge of the lake or on the roof of the remodelled boathouse, breathing the cool night air in deep lungfuls and letting time pass with its own momentum. She took a sip from the cool bottle and found the taste a lot better than the smell of the stuff, then risked a sideways glance at him. It was now or never.

“Dad...�

“Hrmph?� As an answer from him, that was as good as they came.

“Well, I was thinkin'... well, uh, you know I did turn fourteen recently?�

“Hrmph.� Wary and gruff, okay. Definite thin ice here. Be certain, Mom had said, and don't mess around about it.

Well, easy for her to bleedin' say!

“So, I was kinda, er, hoping to ask... I mean, tell you somethin' that won't probably make you happy like, at all.�

“... hrrrmh.�

Okay, now he was definitely having a worst case scenario running through his head. Great job, Kendall! Another minute of awkwardness and he'll probably think you're preggers or somethin'.

Better make sure that he doesn't get the wrong idea, like, Right Now.

“Ihavekindabeenwantingtoworkonthatbike.�

She held her breath as he exhaled cigar smoke slowly in a plume of hazy blue. Then he turned to catch her eyes, tilted his hat back and gave her the patented crooked smile.

“Absolutely. No. Goddamned. Way.�

He flung the cigar butt into the night, ruffled her hair tenderly and strolled indoors with the screen door echoing a final beat to the conversation that never really was.

Dammit!


The next day:

“... and it's only scrap metal, really! Like, over half of it needs to be re-wrought and untangled and welded together again! It's not like it's a real bike after he decided to wrap it in a freakin' bow around that stupid oak...�

“Uh-huh�, said her mother in that infernally patient tone of hers, hands busy potting a batch of young gardenias. She passed each pot to Kendall's table where her daughter distractedly patted down the soil around the fledgeling plant and wiped the pot edges clean.

“But then he just said in that granite-boulder-ne'er-to-be-moved voice of his, 'absolutely no goddamned way',� Kendall said and pulled her best imitation of her father, which involved an out-thrusted jaw, squared shoulders and a lot of un-boulderlike swaying, “and I think it's so unfair! It's not like he does anythin' with it ever.�

“Huh,� Storm said non-committally and hefted the bag of compost-made potting soil back into its air-proof container in the corner. She grabbed a rag and wiped the specks of dirt from the worktop into the last waiting flowerpot, giving it a cursory nod of approval before divesting it into the tender care of her daughter.

“I mean, all he'd have to do would be to take the keys to garage 6 out of his key fob and he'd have to worry like, none 'bout it. I already know how to work metal like a pro, he said so himself when he read my last report card and that portfolio I did on my assignments, but noo, he won't trust me with a bit o' junk yard material! How unfair is that?� the fourteen-year old demanded and patted the soil of the last pot down with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Careful with the roots, Kennie�, Ororo reprimanded gently as she washed her hands in the rainwater basin bolted outside of one of the windows of the attic. “Water them, would you?�

Behind her the air was scented with a sudden build-up of oxygen as the teenager's fashionably thin eyebrows knit together in concentration. There was a precarious moment of uncertainty and a breath drawn and withheld, and then the gentle patter of rain hitting newly potted soil echoed on the high ceiling of the loft. Ororo turned with a smile to see her daughter washing her hands in a fluffy little rain cloud of her own devising while carefully keeping an air of nonchalance.

“Thank you�, she said just as nonchalantly, although her heart ached with pride. The beginnings of a deeper understanding for the tangled gossamer webs of atmospheric layers spanning the globe were already self-evident in Kendall's careful weather experiments.

She didn't jump in headfirst like her mother at the same age, instead preferring to work carefully on honing one skill at a time. It was a rather joyless approach to the gift of the skies in Ororo's opinion, but she understood her daughter's anxiety with her powers all too well – Kendall had been born with the same enhanced senses and bony claws as her father but weather control was an unfamiliar, recent presence in her young life.

All for the best in Ororo's opinion – Kendall's temper tantrums had been thunderous enough on their own when she had been four.

There was budding self-confidence, too - Kendall had truly learned finesse in the past year in all fields of her life, not just with her growing powers and the metalworking that seemed to intrigue her.

She was blossoming into a gamine young woman, all long legs and awkward elegance and shiny long hair. Logan would probably begin to keep a shotgun at hand in a few years. Or, Ororo thought considering her daughter's growing height and fragile beauty, a bazooka. She hid her smirk by flicking an errant lock of hair out of her face as Kendall raised her still pearly eyes from her ablutions.

“Come on, child, let us hang up our aprons for the day. It's almost nightfall already and you've made my afternoon's work much lighter.� Kendall followed her mother's example of cleaning up the gardening tools without a word and slouched out of the door with her hands loosely crossed, deep in a teenage sulk.

She didn't even notice when her mother took a sudden turn to a dark corridor, just followed her steadily advancing back without much of a thought. Only when they stopped for a second of muffled metallic clinks did she notice they were not headed for the boathouse. Palming the lockpicks, her mother pushed open a steel door with a black number '6' painted on scuffed beige and clicked the lights on.

Kendall's nose knew where they were before her brain registered where their little detour had taken them. The smell of old tires, scorched metal and long-stale tobacco was unmistakable.

She'd been here a few times with Dad and Uncle Remy but had never noticed the small maintenance door through which they had just stepped. Kendall had been too mesmerized by the blackened carcass of the once glorious Triumph to spare her attention to much else in the garage on those short visits.

Now the sight of the massive bike rendered into a mad pretzel made her heart trip-hammer with excitement.

“So that's what's left of it�, Ororo said and regarded the warped remains of the Bonneville with such a critical air Kendall was surprised the broken bike didn't rise up and dance to make amends for its sorry state.

Ororo took in slowly the old girlie calendar on the wall, the happy motley of bottles of beer and bike wax littering the shelves, the pile of dirty rags in the corner and the overflowing pickle jars used as ashtrays. It was such a long look that Kendall had ample time to squirm in her boots, plan escape and a dozen good excuses, especially for the girlie calendar (which was disturbing, not least for the ungodly outdated hairdos).

Her mother's sapphire eyes came to meet hers, something dangerous dancing in their corners.

“You want the keys to this mess, child?� It was a typical question from Mom, one to which there were no right answers, only a variety of wrong ones. All you could was to lay down your best gamble and hope for the best.

“Yes�, Kendall said and took the plunge. "Yes, I really do, Mom."

“... Interesting�, said her mother archly, then opened the door for her in an obvious gesture of getting a move on. Kendall turned to go in time to miss her mother glaring at the girlie calendar.

The shift of air in the garage was so subtle that the teen didn't even think about it, used as she was to living in a house with a few perennially open windows.

The sound of old paper fluttering in the slight breeze was masked by the solid sound of the shutting metal door and in the darkness the naked girl on October's leaf was hidden as the calendar fell to the floor, snapping shut.

TBC...

Chapter 2: Eve's Eve

Later, when evening had turned well into night and the boathouse had quieted down, blue smoke curled towards the ceiling and drifted lazily out of the open bedroom window. Outside snowflakes drifted down sedately in the moonlight, twirled around by the occasional lazy gust of wind.

“She hasn't asked you about what got it wrecked, then?�

Logan grunted what she knew to be a no, taking another drag of his cigar. Ororo ran a lazy hand over his chest, watching it rise and fall steadily under her palm. Life was good in these tranquil little moments they managed to steal here and there... even though the madness of everyday life was intent on following them to bed.

“It's all well an' cute if she has an interest in engines and things that go VROOM, darlin' – we'll get 'er some magazines and she can forget 'bout them like all the other fads she's been thru. Like the horsey madness,� he said. They both shuddered at the memory.

But that had been over six years ago, Ororo thought, and this was no fad; Kendall wasn't an easily swayed eight-year old any more.

“The day she gets the keys to that piece o' junk is the day I'm cold and buried. An' don't ya go gettin' any smart ideas either, 'Roro,� he said with a growl and threw the cigar stub out of the window. “Can't cozen this one out of me.�

“Smart ideas? Perish the thought, my love,� she said airily as her fingertips danced over his sternum distractedly. “I think we might do well to give her something to tinker with – that sink surprise she set up last month was quite something I wouldn't like to face first thing in the morning ever again.�

“Should probably get 'er some scrap metal to work on�, he said sagely, scratching his chin. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, something like distant warning bells. "Baby likes ta play, so give her somethin' to fiddle with."

“Capital idea," Ororo said into his ear and murmured, "I'll see what I can find..." It held enough edge to make 'Mary had a little lamb' sound like simple double entendre. Suddenly thought took a back seat in his skull as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her hand wandering southwards. Fingernails raked lightly across his belly and then he was kissing her, slow and sweet and deep, turning to lay on his side, arms twining around her. He gave her sinfully full lower lip a teasing nip.

“Told ya no cozening. I know you're tryin'a sway me in this and sweeten' me up�, Logan growled at her, mock-serious. “Won't work, but keep on tryin' by all means, darlin'.� He moved to hover above her, bending to suckle at the pulse point of her throat, entertained as always by the little sounds she made. Ororo arched her back against him and he moved in to kiss her with a grin at the familiarity of this game.

“Hadn't crossed my mind actually�, she said brightly before their lips brushed together, and then she was deftly rolling them over until she crouched on top of him on all fours, at least a dozen little devils dancing in each eye. “In fact, I believe it's you who should be trying to sweeten me up�, she declared with a smirk.

“An' what makes ya think that I'd do such a thing?� he demanded, liking these different steps to their regular dance.

“Oh, well�, she said languorously, her voice dropping an octave as she let her body brush slowly and lightly against his, setting already excited nerve ends on fire, “since you'll be taking off before first light this morning and leaving me here by myself�, she ground down deliciously lightly against his hardness, “you might want to make sure I don't change the locks while you're gone.� She squeezed his shoulders and suckled at his jaw.

“Takes more 'n locks ta keep me away from ya,� Logan chuckled.

“Well, change the locks, make sure your balls freeze off on your little excursion,� she said amiably and smiled at him like a business project executive from Hell. "I've yet to decide."

“Witch," he muttered and got his own lip nipped for his trouble. Hard. He darted up to capture her lips again, then continued his upwards arc slowly until he was sitting up with her straddling his lap, his hands busy kneading her ass and pinching her nipples at the same time.

Logan let his mouth resume its work on her slender neck, the animal inside him purring happily at her small moans and whimpers of surrender as he suckled and bit at the tender skin.

She was ready for him already, the scent of her was flooding his senses and making him just as dizzy as on the first time years ago. Her scent made thought difficult, made it hard to keep from tipping her over and pinning her down, to resist simply fucking her into the mattress then and there without further delay or play. He could have done it, and Ororo would've not minded too much, but the game was on. And on some nights, it was all about the game.

So instead of cutting the chase short he tangled one hand in the hair at the back of her neck and pulled her head gently back, watching her throat arc bare and taut before him, the sinewy strings straining against the smooth skin. Surrender. Somewhere in the back of Logan's skull the beast in him was dancing a mad celebratory Trepak.

Just like the first time. Always like the first time, that same thrill running through him. Not at the fucking itself, but at the trust, the privilege granted without questions asked and in full knowledge of what he was, what lurked inside his mind. She'd never been afraid of him and never turned him away, but he'd never forgive himself if he stopped asking for her permission.

He blew a gentle breath onto the wet, reddened skin of her neck and took delight in the shiver that ran through her. Well, she had wanted sweet, hadn't she? Better deliver as promised.

His other hand wandered down from her hip into her wetness and flicked and pressed and plucked until she was at the brink, murmuring a stream of encouragement in her ear but not bringing her over the edge, instead letting her calm down until he could begin again, slow and yes, sweet.

Twice more - two more times of slow burn, sweet caresses and demanding hands, grounding her even as they lifted her higher, leaving her suspended like a kite on too short a string.

Logan was playing her own game against her, needing to win and to prove himself and his control to her almost as much as his love. He set her pleasure ablaze like cotton soaked in gasoline and banked it in time until Ororo was sobbing and clinging to him, molten against him and hot as a furnace.

He waited her to come to her senses after her last not-quite release, stroking her back and kissing her tenderly as she shook like a leaf. A blush of colour was creeping up from between her breasts towards her cheeks, and small wisps of her hair clung both to her face and his own shoulders where they'd been caught in dripping perspiration.

Sweat pearled at the hollow of her throat and streamed down her cleavage and he bent to lick them up, coming up to kiss her. Logan liked moments like these better than anything: their scents intermingling, her composure crumpling slowly until there was nothing between them but heat. Her pupils were dilated wide and she crushed their lips together with a desperate force, her breathing ragged and heavy.

He wasn't doing much better himself, control-wise – her scent and sounds were simply too much all at once, and Logan was painfully aware of just how hard he was. A decidedly imperious whimper from her, one that promised death by electrocution if denied, rose from her throat.

Time for my cue then, he mused and rocked his cock against the curve of her ass, seeing her eyes flutter open, sapphire blue catching light at the edges of India black wells. He seized her hips, carpe ilium, and pressed a tender kiss in between her breasts, an odd contrast to his grip that would surely bruise her chocolate skin. She smiled at him, warm and loving and divine, and blood sang in his veins at the sight of her.

Nothing needed to be said and they moved as one creature, Ororo raising her hips and Logan easing into her slowly as she descended excruciatingly slowly on his thick length, leaving the both of them dragging in ragged lungfuls of air when he was finally sheathed to the hilt in her tight heat.

A moment later her hips began a frantic little dance on top of him, trying to get enough friction to be comfortable around his cock. His hands guided her until too much becomes just right and then some, setting up a slow, burning rhythm that was driving them both to insanity. Slow and sweet, like syrup in the mountains...

“Logan, please,� she managed through clenched teeth. She was impossibly tight around him, her heartbeat thrumming in his ears like the sound of rapids in the spring.

“Ya wanted sweet,� he rasped out, half amused and half irritated. “Ya tellin' me to fuck sweet now?�

“No... just fuck me,� she whispered - and that's all it took.

Suddenly the game became a collaborative effort and they were goading each other on, hands, nails and teeth, words streaming past their lips garbled and illogical. They were clinging to each other for dear life, their breath a desperate chant in their ears.

He heard himself whisper a litany of pleas and commands into her ear as she began to shake again and this time he wasn't going to stop her, wasn't going to keep her from taking flight and it was his voice demanding in her ear, come for me 'Ro that's it darlin' let it go let it all go just come for me darlin' oh my fuck fuck woman oh

His teeth found purchase in the crook of her neck as she soared, pulling him with her on the ride over the edge, the both of them flying together into the black, starry skies in a burst of white behind the eyes that could have, should have blinded them both.

When she woke up at dawn, groggy and sore from last night, he was already gone. She rolled over in bed to find a sprig of lingonberry, heavy with frostbitten bounty, pinned to his pillowcase with a note.

Ro
Hope you slept well
Sorry bout the mess beforehand
Bakeapple pie in the storeroom fridge
Keep the kiddies out of there
Left you some of that mulled wine in the pantry
Will be home for Christmas
Logan

Ororo gave a fond snort at the lack of punctuation, then dragged herself into a quick shower. The lingonberries were melting against the roof of her mouth as she conjured up gentle summer rain to wash off the night before, a soft smile dancing on her lips.

That... man!

---

A/N: Well? Did you like it? Drop me a line and gimme some sugar. :)

Chapter 3: Snow Men, Kitchen Talk And The Kenyan Inquisition

It was Kendall's second-to-favourite day of Christmas and her father's least favourite day of the year, and he had excused himself on the previous day to wander the woods amid the picturesquely falling snow like he'd done every year as long as she remembered.

He'd watch the snow fall slowly, taking quiet joy in the way
the ground cooled slowly to let snowdrifts form on the forest floor. Having successfully avoided the pre-Christmas fuss he would wander back home on Christmas Eve at dusk, tipsily crooning really rude lyrics to “Deck the halls�, set down a plucky Christmas tree against the back of the boathouse, kiss her mother full on the lips despite her complaints about bourbon breath, and waltz her across the veranda and down the small pier where he would serenade her some more embarrassingly loudly.

In the end, her mother would kiss him just to shut him up, usually in the middle of a rousing chorus of 'Oh my darling Clementine'.

Kendall could well understand the urge not to be underfoot when the collective seasonal cheer hit the proverbial fan as it usually did amid the X-men and the people weathering the holidays at the Institute. Their inability to adhere to the basics of normal life turned the commercial midwinter fiesta into something everyone with some cash could attain, often to the point of overcompensation.

The mansion and its grounds had turned into a manic battle zone of streamers, practical jokes, frantic present-wrapping and hushed schemes between otherwise sensible adults. They'd had the traditional 'practise dinner' where Aunt Rogue got to feed them silly a few days in advance “to make room for the big 'un� as she always said. Kendall strongly suspected there was a conspiracy underway to make her eat as much mushy peas as possible in the space of one week.

Luckily things were far more serene at the boathouse, as most of the decorating had already taken place thanks to her mother. Executed with a field general's gentle despotism, it had taken them merely the better part of the morning and afternoon to set the house out in its tasteful Yuletide splendour.

Kendall was grateful her mother understood the concept of 'less is more' and banned tinsel from the house save for her little brother's handmade ornaments from school, whatever they were supposed to be. There was one that resembled an orangutang and one that could be generously called an apple, but the rest of the dozen-odd lumps remained a mystery better left under its veil.

All that was missing was the tree.

Ororo was wrapping the last of the presents in the kitchen when Kendall's gangling form appeared in the door frame, cautious and curious about the items strewn on the counter-top.

“Come on in, nothing here you shouldn't set eyes on.� She turned the neat packet over in her hands and gave her daughter a conspiratorial wink, offering her a glimpse at the spine of the book she was busy wrapping. It was the newest volume in a series of steampunk novels her brother read religiously. Kendall found them a bit ludicrous, but if her brother liked them then more power to him.

Her mother sipped delicately at a mug of mulled wine, then poured Kendall a mug of her own and motioned her to sit down at the island.

“Just a taste,� she said with a smile and tweaked her daughter's nose despite the resulting adolescent ire and rolling of the eyes.

Kendall sipped at the spicy drink while she watched her mother finish the wrapping with a neat bow on top of the name tag humming under her breath. She was grateful it wasn't a Christmas carol – the mansion's kitchen had been filled with blaring seasonal music around the clock for the past week, and there was only so many times her sensitive ears could put up with 'Jingle Bell Rock'.

“I was happy to see you'd excelled in your vocational studies. Metalworking seems to please you?� her mother asked and plopped a plate of gingerbread hearts beside Kendall's mug with a vague imperious gesture in their direction. Kendall dunked and chewed, dutifully.

“Yeah... It's pretty neat, soldering and welding an' stuff,� Kendall said pensively, then added carefully, “I'd like to take the advanced course but my teacher says I'm too smart to be a welder.�

“Does he, now�, her mother said, all too casually for Kendall's liking. That casual tone had once been aimed at her principal, and Kendall suspected the Teacher's Association was still bristling at the resulting uproar. As it was, her mother was the picture of domestic tranquility as she stirred the big pot on the back burner. It simmered merrily, perfuming the kitchen air with the unmistakable scent of sukuma wiki that said 'Christmas' to Kendall just as much the scent of pine resin. For as long as she could remember her mother had sneaked the leftovers of her Aunt Rogue's Christmas cooking out to the boathouse, grumbling about 'shameful waste' and 'perfectly good ingredients', somehow managing to turn a basket full of vegetable leftovers into a savoury dish that left you wanting for more.

Mom had the strangest idea of Christmas foods but Kendall wasn't complaining – there'd be a small feast tomorrow morning, ugali straight from the pan, fried yams, wild rice, mushrooms with onion and the bakeapple pie her father had made yesterday and quickly hidden from greedy fingers. Her mouth watered at the thought.

“Juice that for me, please.� Two halves of a lemon appeared in front of Kendall with a bowl and she absent-mindedly crushed them in her fist. Her mind was occupied with gleaming metal and jumbled piping until Ororo's voice interrupted her daydream.

“And what about you, Kennie? Are you enjoying welding enough to make it into a profession?�

“I, um... I kind of like it too much, y'know? Welding's cool an' all but I wanna go further. Build stuff, take science extras.�

She watched her mother stir the lemon juice into the steaming pot on the range and saw something in her eyes soften. For a while her mother, too, seemed to be somewhere else altogether. Then the sapphires focused on her again and Kendall squirmed underneath their scrutiny. Was this the flamin' week of the bleedin' Kenyan Inquisition?

“Build things... What did you have in mind for that old bike, then?�

“I... I dunno yet, it was just a stupid idea I had. Just wanted to poke around, see what makes a motorcycle tick I guess.� Kendall rubbed the back of her neck.

“Nothing makes that hunk of junk tick, kestrel. It's done for."

“Well, then I guess I'd see what went wrong with it,� she offered with a shrug. “Been wonderin' ever since Uncle Remy took me along on that scavenger hunt and we ended up poisoning the rats in the garages after Aunt Rogue had had a near coronary trying to find Item Three in one of them.�

“Child, you don't need to dissect that bike to know what happened." Ororo and poured herself another mug of mulled wine, the fragrant steam billowing around them for a while before the fan over the range caught it. “I could tell you just as easily.�

Kendall gaped for a second, then got herself under control. “I didn't think about asking, really,� she said sheepishly, then brightened. “So will you tell me? Please?"

“I suppose I must, it being the season of giving and for mentioning it myself in the first place. It's not that much of a story, though.�

“What, no world-changing crisis?�

There was a chuckle, dry as desert winds. “Depends on your viewpoint, I suppose. It was before you were born, a few years after your father and I married."

"Your father had been away for a few months and fallen through some rough times while playing cat and mouse with few of our old... acquaintances who are no longer with us. He was a sorry sight when he dragged himself home on that bike, right in the middle of a sleety storm in October."

"He had been gone over ten weeks longer than he was supposed to and it was showing. He hadn't been eating or sleeping properly and it had taken a toll on his healing factor, which was already strained.�

“Must've been bad�, Kendall said, shivering.

“Oh yes. He was weary and sick. Trouble was, so was I. I gave up trying to talk sensibly to him when he was in such a stupor – he put a boneheadedly brave front on as usual, but nothing seemed to penetrate that thick skull of his." Ororo brushed her knuckles across her mouth, a gesture Kendall had come to associate with deep emotion.

"It took him some time to put two and two together, but after a few bowls of Rogue's chowder and saying hello to Mr Molson he was much feeling brighter. Sadly I'd already gone to bed, having been sick for what seemed like an eternity and tired to the core of my bones myself.�

“Wait, did you have, like, the flu or somethin'?� Kendall's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“And that, right there, proves you two are truly related�, Storm said with a sigh. “I was three months pregnant - expecting you, Kennie, and had been unable to get a word out to your father, him having gone curiously incommunicado and deep underground. I'd been throwing up steadily all over the place, and was in no shape to stay up long.�

“In any cause, I was asleep when your father finally had his Eureka moment and decided, light-headed as he was on malnutrition and that damnable chowder, to go on a joyride through the grounds to celebrate the occasion. He still insists that if he'd been riding one of his Hogs it'd never happened." Kendall rolled her eyes at her mother and got a cocked eyebrow back. They sniggered together.

"In any case, he was riding the Bonneville, and with or without that fact contributing, I woke to an insane crash a little after four in the morning. Apparently he had been so overjoyed that he didn't notice a muddy patch on the dirt path before yanking the bike up into a wheelie and he experienced a surprise rendezvous with that big oak tree. I found him staggering happily up from the wreck, miraculously unscathed.�

“Woah�, Kendall said. “He was that happy?�

“Yes. In a way it's all your fault�, Ororo said and knocked back her mug. “And you really shouldn't gape like that, my sweet. It makes you look like a goldfish.�

“Motherrrr!�

“The blame is on me I suppose, as you've got my looks mostly�, the windrider said equitably, biting into a gingerbread heart.

Kendall stared a while, then burst into laughter and Ororo joined her. After a while it subsided into mutual munching and mother and daughter seemed to come to an understanding. What kind wasn't clear to Kendall yet, but talking with Mom always had a way of making things seem all right, that everything would work out just peachy in the course of time.

Kendall was happy nonetheless to just sit with her mother a while in their little kitchen, even though she wouldn't admit it in a million years. Here they were having an actual conversation, and she was being teased almost like a grown-up. Even though Mom eventually kissed her on the forehead like a little kid, she also poured more mulled wine into Kendall's mug with a wink.

They drained the drink in companionable silence, drowning gingerbread hearts in the spicy brew. Slowly it warmed Kendall's belly and a happy, relaxed glow seeped through her.

“Hey Mom?�

“Mmm?�

“Did you ever have other boyfriends besides Dad?�

Her mother gave her an incredulous look that balanced between amusement and exasperation. “Sure.�

“Well?� Kendall swung her feet on the bar stool and bit into another heart. “What was he like?�

"Who?"

"The guy you dated before Dad."

“Tall, dark and handsome.�

“Motherrrr!�

“No, really.�

“Really? Wow." Kendall took a moment to snicker inwardly. Maybe she should've gotten Dad some high heels for Christmas. "What was he like?�

“He liked to build things, like you,� her mother said after a pause, and for a while a sad smile played at the corners of her mouth. “You could say that it was what he was made for, really.�

“Was he good at it?�

“Genius. He was an inventor.�

“Huh. How did you meet? Was it romantic? Did he knock you off your feet?"

“He shot me down from the sky,� Ororo said, her lips tightening into an odd little smile. “Literally.�

Kendall's eyes grew wide as saucers. “And you still loved him. Was it serious?�

“Yes. And we'll leave it at that for now, Kennie, for the sake of holiday cheer and my blood pressure. Why don't you take your brother out for a while? Your father should be back sooner than you know�, her mother suggested, the sad look in her eyes dissipating mostly. “There should be enough snow for a snowman or two by now. Fresh air will do you both good.�

“Yes, Motherrrr�, Kendal said with a purposefully suffering air and rolled her eyes on her way out of the kitchen. In reality she didn't mind that much, at least not today – Dylan could be fun when he wasn't busy making her life hell and embarrassing her in front of her friends with all the zeal of a nine-year old.

She was about to holler at him to get his butt down and ready when she noticed he was already standing at the door, looking smug.

Stupid sneaky kid with his sneaky senses of sneakiness.

“Coming, sis?� His annoyingly blue eyes sparked pure evil at her as she grabbed her coat and followed him outside.

“You bet your ass I'm coming, brat�, she grumbled.

“Mooooom! Kennie said ASS!�

“So did you, Dylan,� their mother said, appearing in the hallway arched eyebrow ready and aimed, amusement in her voice. “Now out with you two!�

A gale pushed them outside and the door shut with a firm snap. “Get some oxygen in your brains!� could be heard muffled through it, but the siblings were too busy to notice – the sheer amount of snow that had come down since the morning had stunned them into greedy silence.

With a look spared between them and a nod of understanding they set to work to create the most fearsome snow monsters possible, not paying attention to the sun's arc on the sky until the fiery disc began to descend into the horizon.

Chapter 4: Snow men

Kendall looked at her creation with dark satisfaction. It was enormous, it was fantastic, it loomed. She'd sculpted out a gargantuan octopus that extended its snowy tentacles along the side of the boathouse, intent on devouring their home. On the side of the small pier Dylan had created a line of apparently marching robots clad in Santa hats, really rather impressive although Kendall wouldn't ever admit it.

They had just finished laying the finishing touches when gleefully rude carolling came around the corner as Logan strolled down the path quietly, well above the wind. A second later the delicate but definite aroma of bourbon and pine reached their noses and the kids rounded the corner of the house just in time to see their father set down a slender fir tree to lean against the wall just outside the apparent reach of Kendall's snow sculpture.

“Wouldn't want to risk misadventure by a fish,� he said and gave the kids a wink.

“It's not a fish, it's a squid, Dad. A cephalopod,� Kendall said with an eye roll.

“Whatever�, said Dylan cheerily, nostrils flaring as the wind turned to dance around them like an eager family dog taking stock of its pack. Logan grinned and turned to the front porch as Kendall's ears picked up her mother's advancing footsteps. He was already up the steps of the porch when Ororo stepped outside just to be kissed full on the lips before she managed further than the doorway.

“Eeeeewwww,� Dylan said enthusiastically under his breath.

“Definite ick,� Kendall agreed grimly. “We will so need therapy when we grow up.�

The inevitable waltzing began, their mother's exasperated laughter fading slowly towards the pier while the sound of snow crunching under their feet grew quieter.

There was a moment of silence while both Kendall and Dylan glared at the fir resting against the wall, resolute to keep their eyes away from the pier's general direction.

“Don't look realistic,� Dylan said. “Your fearsome octopussy.�

“Oh yeah? When have you last seen an octopus, smart guy?�

“At least my robots look like real robots.�

“Sure... The kind that you used to make outta cereal boxes.�

"You would know, you inhale that stuff."

"You won't inhale soon, twerp."

"Pigbreath."

"Idjit."

"Booger hooker!"

It wasn't clear who threw the first snowball, but the war was on suddenly and explosively: before they knew, they were prowling and sprinting across the yard and round and round the house, stalking and pouncing like lion cubs on the razz. Kendall was lying in wait in the shadow of the drainpipe when Dylan slipped something down her neck.

It didn't register at first, and the annoying brat was running so she naturally gave chase when the first shudder went across her spine. A heartbeat later the cold shock ran all the way down her back, and then she realised:

Bleedin' ice!

She couldn't stop the high-pitched scream that escaped her when the stick of ice slipped down her back into her pants. After a few more running steps Dylan came to an abrupt halt, a taunt frozen on his lips as a familiar, blurry form came barreling towards them growling menacingly.

Two things happened in the second after she froze still where she stood: Dylan smartly side-stepped the incoming 300 pounds of fury that was their father, and Kendall's brain, finding her feet incommunicado, threw an emergency switch she hadn't known she had.

A second after that the growling, barreling mass stopped inches from Kendall's snowy boots, ominously still and quiet, now submerged in a huge pile of snow.

Dylan took one look at Kendall, then glanced at the mountain of snow and then looked at Kendall again, mouth hanging open. “Oh, shit�, he said, eyes round and huge.

Blood pounded in Kendall's ears as terror rose within her: this was exactly what she'd been working so hard to avoid all year, loss of control! She felt herself begin trembling as Ororo slid down from the sky, a split second later. She took one quick glance at the view before her, eyes growing blue again as the kids stared at her in expectant horror.

“Listen, Mom,� Kendall began with trepidation.

“-- it's all my fault,� Dylan said too quickly at the same time.

“-- said something about the robots --�

“--- and didn't honestly mean to!�

Ororo watched them stumble over their words, head tilted to one side, then held up a hand to shut them up. She nodded towards the mound of snow.

“Your father in there somewhere?�

A muffled string of curses and threats could be heard from the hill of white. Ororo heaved a sigh.

“Best get him out, don't you think?� She held her hand up again, palm down, and slowly the snow began to melt at the top of the mound. She didn't get far before the white stuff began to undulate and quake. The children quickly inched their way to stand behind their mother, just in case. Storm planted her knuckles at her hips and waited as the grumbling and cussing intensified.

There was a moment of stillness and then their father's head emerged, two piles of snow stuck to his hair like a pair of horns undermining the sullen fury on his face.

He was glaring directly at Kendall.

There was a heavy silence that seemed to never end. And then came a silvery, pealing laughter as Ororo cracked up at the sight of her husband.

“'Ro...� he growled in warning, but it only served to rile her up even more, her laughter escalating into a gale of giggles when Logan tried to get out but found himself jammed in the tight-packed snow. He had to settle for glaring furiously at his wife while their children tried their best to keep their faces straight as Storm fought to regain her composure.

“Need a bit of help there, love, or are you quite happy in your... enfoldment?� There was a needled joke the kids were obviously missing if the way their father gnashed his teeth together was anything to go by.

“Just stuff the wit an' get me the fuck outta here, 'Ro�, he growled.

“Such persuasion and decorum; be still my heart�, Ororo said drily and the snow began to melt again, running into small streams of water that built idly into huge icicles sticking out of the ground. Logan shook himself free of excess water like an animal, knocked his hat back into shape and then shivered involuntarily. Kendall cringed.

“Sorry, Dad,� she managed uneasily, the toes of her boots suddenly very interesting. “I... kinda panicked there. Didn't mean to go all avalanche on you.�

She risked an upwards glance as he strolled past her on his way inside, catching his eye. He didn't stop but gave her a soft smack on the back of her head with a grunt that was grudgingly affectionate. Her mother was going on about a hot shower and dry clothes but gave Kendall an amused look over her shoulder as she closed the door behind them. Kendall could've sworn there was a conspiratorial wink thrown in her direction, too.

She let out the breath she hadn't noticed she was holding, then turned to face her gawking little brother.

“You just got outta jail free,� Dylan said accusingly. “How come I never get outta jail free?�

She shrugged elaborately, something wild and gleeful bubbling inside her. She had just Gotten Away With Something. She gave her hair a nonchalant toss. “Must be 'cause I'm prettier than you.�

“Are not.�

“Am too.�

“Are not!�

“Okay then, pretty boy,� she said airily, walking over to the Christmas tree. “Help me get this sprig inside and set up.�

Somehow she was growing certain that this was to be the best Christmas yet.

Chapter 5: Please have snow and mistletoe

On Christmas Eve, they all sat down around the big dining table in the mansion. Over the years the big dinner had migrated from Christmas Day to the 24th to accommodate for the consequences the Eve's evening party had on the number of people gathered around the long table. There was no use trying to postpone the party itself – regardless of agreements and arrangements, one of the mansion's residents always felt like celebrating and what started out as a few beers between two friends in the rec room always snowballed into a full-tilt party.

When they were finally allowed into the great formal dining room the combined smells of all the delicacies laid out on the table hit Kendall like a hammer between the eyes. The table itself seemed to sag slightly under the weight of the wide variety of dishes that reflected the diversity of cultures seated around its expanse.

There was the yearly fuss over who got to cut the meat between Remy, Scott and her father, resulting in squabbling and growling and glares, but it was all in good spirits. She was too full after the morning's bout of gluttony to lust after the roast anyway – the bakeapple pie particularly had vanished almost into thin air. Even the toast and beans Logan insisted on at Christmas breakfasts had felt festive and rare instead of boring and cheap. It was the same with her mother's sukuma wiki and ugali – although it normally was a simple, mundane dish, it felt like a treat because they had it only on special occasions.

She watched her Uncle Remy, seated across her, pop chestnuts in his hands by charging them. He leaned over to her mother, apparently engrossed in conversation. He produced chestnut from behind her ear like a magician and popped it right beside her ear to startle her. She jumped in her seat, then quickly jammed a steak knife down between the fingers of his other hand in retribution, the silver blade waving back and forth and ringing like a tiny bell as it vibrated stuck in the wood of the table. Kendall snickered at Gambit's surprised flinch. His red eyes fixed on hers, the devil's own smile on his lips, his hands busy rolling a cigarette.

“You t'ink it funny to scare ol' Tountoun Remy half t'death, Chèrie?�

“Doesn't everyone, Gumbo?� her father rumbled from his seat her mother's right side, giving his own steak knife a contemplative glance. “Might do well to find the other half some time, too.�

“Be t' death of us both, mon ami, dese ladies of yours�, Uncle Remy said with an unflappable grin.

“Yeah, but what a way to go, eh?� Her father stole fire to his cigar from one of the tall votive candles on the table and kicked his chair back, sending a plume of smoke towards the ceiling. A moment later another trail of haze followed from Uncle Remy's cigarette and her mother gave a thoroughly disgusted long-suffering groan between them, setting a buff of air into motion with a dramatic upwards wave.

Kendall turned her attention to her pumpkin pie and hid her smile wisely, taking note on how her mother silently palmed her father's steak knife at the same time her other hand was in mid-gesture. It was going to be a good evening if Storm was indulging in knife fights and ten-finger discounts – it meant less imperious nagging and more leeway for Kendall.

After dinner had been cleared up they had settled back in the living room, a log blazing cheerily in the fire and a comfortable atmosphere of stuffed stupor hanging in the air. The eggnog and punch still enjoyed some popularity and conversation flowed easily between people lounging on the overstuffed armchairs and sofas.

Couples sat together, casually entwined in each other and discussing grown-up stuff from days of yonder. Kendall wasn't really interested in that, having heard the same old stories over and over again growing up. The few handfuls of students of her age that had stayed in the mansion for the holidays apparently hadn't heard the tales, though, and were paying politely rapt attention when the old farts regaled their new victims with never-ending yarns of How It Was When We Were Your Age. Apparently pigeons had been fatter, for starters.

There were a few kids here too, but Kendall felt too full to play hide-and-seek and clapping games with them. Dylan didn't seem to suffer from the same problem, though, and ran around with a few of his friends making a racket and laughing madly on a chocolate pudding sugar high. Her best friend Prudence called it “kiddie crack� and they both cringed at the inevitable hyperactivity in the kids on the days it was served as dessert on school lunches – Kendall for her sensitive ears, Prudence out of irritation.

Born with no apparently useful mutant abilities Pru was limited to ducking and rolling when the superpowered kids got out of hand. Her mutation simply gave her perfect strawberry blonde hair, nails that grew twice as fast as normally and flawless skin save for an explosive case of freckles on her face and chest. Not exactly something that might save the world some day, but Kendall had seen enough of the life the X-men led to envy her friend like hell for that. But Pru wasn't here this Christmas and Kendall was left to fight boredom all by herself. She longed for her cellphone that she'd been forced to leave at the boathouse.

Kendall wandered back to the dining room, her mind still slightly fuzzy in the aftermath of eating herself silly at dinner. She felt a bit out of place in the sitting room where everyone was so wrapped up in their little conversations. Her feet took her through the hallways and service entrances to the scene of the gluttonous crime, now tidy and empty. The dining room was dim, lit only by the tiny lights strung above the window frames.

Something about the hush of midwinter and the crisp blue night called to her and made her want for solitude. She stood by the full-length windows and crouched down to better take in the deep blue night sky peppered with stars. The nearly full disc of the Moon hovered like a paper lamp over the grounds. There was fragile tension in the air outside, the turning point of seasons from winter to spring so near she was almost able to taste it past the lingering remains of the mushy peas.

It was annoying, this tickling tug at the back of her skull, the strange and familiar ebb just inside her temples like a second pulse. It was just over eighteen months since she'd first felt it, the staccato thrum of the sky's dome rattling her nerves and constantly gauging her emotions like a huge lie detector wired straight into her noggin. It had left her paranoid about self-control, having had numerous people warn her about letting her feelings run amok based on what happened when her mother's control slipped.

Kendall didn't get the enthralled look in her mother's eyes when there was a front of rain rolling in over the lake – in fact, it was a bit too Village Of The Damned for her taste. Still she couldn't deny the subconscious radar that seemed to have developed in her, and there was something incredibly neat about not needing to watch Weather Channel for tomorrow's weather. Nowadays, Kendall just knew. Still, she'd give it all up tomorrow if it wasn't for flying. That had changed everything, set something inside her free of tethers she never knew she'd had.

Kendall didn't know how long she had crouched by the window lost in her own thoughts, but her toes had gone to sleep when a fleet of scurrying children startled her out of her reverie. They ran right past her to the kitchen, not noticing her still form on the other side of the dining table.

Kendall's ears picked up music and laughter from the living room and she made her way back there in hopes of charming a few roasted chestnuts out of her Uncle Remy. She studiously ignored her parents making out like a couple of college kids in the hall, under what looked suspiciously like a sprig of mistletoe stuck to the stairway banister with a steak knife. Eeech!

Uncle Remy was sitting by the fire in one of the antique loveseats with Aunt Rogue curled up next to him. His red eyes spotted her immediately as she stepped into the room. He motioned her closer with a curled finger that flew quickly to his lips to signal for quiet – just why escaped Kendall, as her Aunt seemed content in her sleep regardless of the loud music in the room.

“Been up since de crac' o'dawn wit' de food, silly t'ing,� Uncle Remy said with a rueful smile as she sat down on an ottoman by his feet, sticking her own toes closer to the fire to catch the toasty warmth. “Same story ev'ry year: Remy try f'r a romantic ev'nin' and chère falls asleep on 'er feet.�

“Maybe you should, like, re-script the romance if you put her to sleep with it every time?�

“Y' come t' mock an ol' man on C'ristmas Eve?� Remy pressed a hand to his heart in mock tragedy.

“Cut me some slack, I'm a traumatised youngster. Damaged goods, noodle-wise.�

“Ah, Stormy put de knife to good use, eh? You join Remy's club o' retinal cleansing.�

“I swear, I don't know which is creepier, seeing them playing tongue hockey like a couple of kids of/my age or commiserating about it with someone who's their age,� Kendall groaned.

“Y' wound me, petite, Remy's not 'alf as old as your father,� her Uncle said and made a face. “Speaking of people your age, where's dat young man who been makin' moony eyes at you?�

“I don't know who you're talkin' about,� Kendall said and blamed the heat on her face on the popping log in the fireplace.

“Sure y'do, chère. Dat Petty boy, he ready t' follow you 'round like a puppy an' you been ignorin' 'im like a pro,� Remy said quietly enough for only Kendall's sensitive ears to hear, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Rogue's ear. He gave an almost imperceptible jerk of his head in the stereo's general direction, where most of the people were gathered. “Boy came back early an' you don't even say hello to 'im but there he still is, antsy as a cat at de vet's office.�

“He... he came back? I thought he was gone for Christmas,� she whispered urgently. Kendall risked a neck-snapping glance over her shoulder and found the lanky, tall form leaning against the wall, red-haired head bent towards some blonde girl and her tittering friends. There was a low growl rising in the back of her throat before she could slap the lid on her instincts. Less territorial, Kennie, she told herself,more incredulous. Definitely less growly at least, before the Platinum Brigade gets more fodder for gossip...

“Must've got 'ere while you were out collecting psychological scars, then.� Her Uncle lit up a cigarette and exhaled smugly, if that was possible. Kendall's eyes narrowed.

“You're meddling on purpose, aren't you?�

“What if I am? Remy's old enough to get 'imself in trouble all by 'imself, but you still need t' be pushed in. Jus' like my Stormy.�

“I'm gonna tell Mom you called her that /twice.�

“You break my tender Cajun 'eart, chère,� he said drily. “Go get some punch an' talk to 'im. Let your 'air down, 'ave some fun an' piss your Daddy off for ol' Remy, okay?�

She stared at him for a second with an arched eyebrow and snagged out the glassy barbell holding her hair in a bun. Instantly her stubborn mane of silver unfolded itself like a cockatoo's head-crest. She gave the barbell a glance, taking stock of her lack of pockets, then decisively stabbed it beside the cigarette between Gambit's fingers. He'd like it for a fancy projectile.

“Joyeux Noël, Tountoun Remy,� she whispered with a smile, then rose with the liquid grace of the young and determined, planting a kiss on his forehead. “And thanks.�

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,� he muttered and waved her off, amusement in his voice. Kendall didn't see it – she was already making her way to the punch bowl.

Think I'll need a li'l help for this one, she thought shrewdly. There was something comforting about the ready-filled big red plastic cups of punch and in a moment Kendall had made friends with two of them, making her way to the window seat near the stereo. She could feel the eyes of the Platinum Brigade on her back. She settled down and crossed her long legs not once but twice, a subtle fuck-you to the stubby-legged blonde in the white-and-red dress. Gamine rook flips off queen bee, film at eleven, Kendall thought wildly. Her keen ears told her what she'd wished for secretly: conversation stopped beside the stereo and then careful footsteps were approaching her perch.

She saw the tips of his black sneakers stop opposite her high heels for a moment, and when she didn't raise her eyes from her cup, the shoes moved on and a moment later Stephen Petty sat down next to her on the windowseat.

“Hey�, he said softly and then she did look up to meet his bright gray eyes, their corners crinkled with a tentative smile. She hoped to hell she wasn't looking like a blowfish right now: he was so tall, up close.

“Hey�, she said and her voice sounded strange in her ears. She thrust the other cup at him, then gave him a careful smile herself. He took the cup with a happy little sound as though she'd just presented him with something expensive and shiny that lanky, tall guys like him liked. Spinal extenders, maybe.

Kendall cleared her throat and took a sip of her punch, her ears unwillingly privy of the buzz rising on the other side of the stereo. Stephen seemed unperturbed and took a hefty gulp of his own.

“How's Christmas going for you, then? I thought you were staying with your family in the city,� she said and was a bit surprised to hear her voice steady again. There was a flutter in her chest that made her throat feel funny and her dress too short and tight.

“I was, but then my Aunt Trudy and Uncle Dwight came to visit. We all went to that Christmas matinee? You know, at the theatre I was telling you about? And all the way through it they keep talking and badmouthing the show and the performers,� Stephen said and shifted in his seat uneasily and scratched the back of his neck.

“That sucks."

"Yeah. Kinda why I'm back early."

"Did you have a fight or something?"

“Well, kinda. At some point they started blaming me and Dad for purposefully taking them to see a lousy show and I got so uncomfortable that I accidentally got left behind when the curtains closed and they went home. They thought I'd scarpered off when the lights went down after the intermission...� Stephen looked embarrassed. His mutant powers gave him the ability to 'scatter' the sensory data people received of him to distract potential pursuers when he concentrated hard enough, but sometimes things went awry with base instincts taking over. Kendall could sympathise: she'd once accidentally electrocuted a toaster when the fire alarm went off at the smoke rising from burning bread.

“That sorta people, huh,� Kendall said, deciding she didn't like Stephen's relatives very much. “Why are you here, though? No cabs left in the city to take you home?�

“There was no sense in going back – there was no way I could've gone back and kept myself, you know, together long enough to explain things to them. They don't exactly like us filthy, degenerate mutants,� he said bitterly. He was obviously angry, Kendall could smell the adrenaline on him. She knew it was wrong, wrong, wrong, but something inside her responded to that flare in his scent. She had to stop herself staring at his mouth, and she licked dry lips before trusting her voice again.

“Well, I'm glad you came back to our septic fold,� she said gently and laid a hand over his without thinking, only meaning to comfort and calm them both.

They both froze simultaneously. Kendall's eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat – and, she could've sworn, so did his. One miniature cardiac arrest later her heartbeat thundered in her ears and the torn cuticle on her right thumb became intensely interesting... the right thumb that rested lightly on his long and slender ring finger.

Oo-kay, Kennie, you've got this calming thing down to pat! Keep this up and you'll stop tectonic plates one day by giving them a seizure! It's no biggie, it's no biggie, it's no biggie... Stop blushing!

Then she heard the sound of a plastic cup being thrown into the nearby trashcan with an impressive arc and warm fingers tilted her chin up to make her eyes meet the warmest pair of pale gray eyes she'd ever seen.

“Wanna step outside for a while? I need some air,� Stephen said and then the hand under her hand was entwining his fingers amid hers, giving them a soft squeeze.

“... Sure,� she managed and rose when he did, decisively knocking back the cup of punch in one gulp that'd done her father proud. The sound of her blood humming in her ears was settling down enough for the buzz of whispers by the stereo to begin to filter through to her brain again, but Kendall found that she didn't give a damn as she followed Stephen down the hall towards the front door. Luckily her parents had taken their nookie elsewhere.

The air outside was crisp and clear and the sky arced above them India black and endless, stars glittering just like the light ricocheting off the pristine white snow.

“You sure you won't freeze here?� Kendall asked as Stephen held the door open for her. Smooth guy, she mused and wondered if her Uncle had given more than just one pep talk that night.

“Sure as houses,� he said and yanked the collar of his tan suede jacket up. He leaned against the wall to light a cigarette. Menthol, Kendall's nose told her without inhaling. She didn't know how she felt about him smoking – it was yucky and stupid and smelly, but also kind of... comforting, like the smell of his leather jacket that had all sorts of interesting scents trapped in it.

She leaned against the wall next to him and closed her eyes as her brain picked apart the hints of trail soaked into the soft suede: asphalt, slush, exhaust gases and plum pudding, something cabbage-y and grassy, hints of sweat and... then, just Stephen. Clean with traces of the unscented, vicious soap the Institute provided in the student dorms, musk, cedar and vetivert with sandalwood... She found her lips curling back in a grin. Stephen smelled exactly like a Stephen such as Stephen should, she decided and clamped her lips tight before a satisfied growl escaped them.

He hadn't noticed, luckily - she was pretty sure sniffing people was a grandiose faux pas when dealing with cute boys. He seemed preoccupied glaring at the burning end of his cigarette as he exhaled slowly, then suddenly tossed the stick of tobacco away and ran a restless hand through his curly red hair.

“Listen, Kendall,� he said, “I've been meaning to tell you something for a while now...�

Oh shit, Kendall thought, heart jump-starting into hurdle-running racing pace. This is either really good or really, really bad...

“I, ah...� If it was possible for a tall guy to slouch nervously more, Stephen would be soon needing a chiropractor in possession of a crane lift. “What I'm meaning to say is that you and me, me and you... Do you... I mean, I kinda think that...�

It was unbearably cute, Kendall thought, and the emphasis was on unbearable. Had she ever been the mellow girl they all wanted her to be she'd let him ramble on 'til first light. But she wasn't, and swallowing a good deal of trepidation with a side of her heart creeping into her throat she turned to face him.

“Yeah, I do, and you think right," she said more boldly than she actually felt, not trusting her ability to start again if she stopped now, “and I've been meaning to tell you too for some time, and it's all our Uncles' fault, don't you think, flamin' serendipity kinda, and I think you're really nice and wonderful and tall and play those funny air guitar solos to the boombox and oh shit, now it's me with the awkward rambling, isn't it?� She stopped for a breath and for a while she felt like throwing up as her mind caught up with her tongue. “Aw, crap.�

Stephen looked like someone had introduced him headfirst to Mr Two-By-Four. She couldn't look him in the eye just then, afraid of... something she didn't want to even think about. Suddenly the potted juniper at her left side became really interesting.

And then there were hands weaving into her hair gently, turning her head upwards and Stephen-wards again, and... he was shaking at the shoulders?

There was an odd strangled sound from him and the hands in her hair curled at the back of her skull, and Stephen let out a strained snicker, followed by a chuckle and then another.

The bastard was laughing at her!

Kendall didn't know whether to die from embarrassment or to fry Stephen then and there on the porch, distantly aware of electricity beginning to gather nearby. She felt ready to punch him or dissolve into tears, or possibly both. She clenched her teeth and glared at him.

He took one look at her fearsome glare and broke into laughter again. That, in Kendall's book, sealed the deal: she pulled her fist back and rocked her weight to the correct spot for throwing punches on stiletto heels and was about to snap her arm forward when he bent his face to hers and did something stupendously stupid.

The bastard was kissing her! Laughing at her and then kissing her! One half of Kendall's brain was cheering rowdily at the most recent developments while the other half was annoyed beyond belief. Something roaring inside her was siding with the irritated half of her brain and she was moving before she noticed it.

She shoved him off her, felt her eyes stinging white and considered him from behind the wavering 4D-vision that overtook her eyesight whenever she was streaming power from the skies. Overhead, electricity throbbed and coiled and loosened and coiled back again, invisible but portentous.

Deep breath, Kendall decided. Kiss nice, boy idiot – but said boy was not laughing any more, looking at her with something akin to reverence as a bolt of lightning lit the night up like a gigantic camera flash, arcing over clear sky. Her claws itched to be let out. She considered him: attempting nonchalance and not breathing, smelling of rising anxiety and... something else. Something new that made Kendall shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

Then her hands were on his collar, pushing him back against the wall. He was shivering too as she stood on tiptoe to show him what a kiss really was.

Stephen was startled still for a moment,but then his arms wound around her waist and pulled her nearer tentatively. His lips were soft, softer than she would have thought a boy's lips to be and he kissed her back almost shyly as her palms came to rest on his shoulders. The slouch was gone, though, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to capture his lips again, but she gave chase gladly.

It was some indefinite amount of time later that they broke for air, his arms around her, her hands looped around his neck. He kissed her nose with a smile.

“Man, you're so cute when you're pissed off!� He rocked them from one foot to another, laying his chin on the top of her head. “Almost as cute as when you can't stop talking.�

“Wanna see how cute you look after a hundred terawatts of electricity through the nose? 'Cause it's the season of giving,� she growled at him but there was little anger behind it now. Something warm was bubbling inside her, wild and heady stuff that went straight to her head.

“I thought you might've sicced that lighting on me,� he said with wonder in his voice. “Sorry I laughed at you. Tension released all too sudden and all that.�

“S'okay,� she murmured, burrowing closer even though he was the one that was probably freezing out here in the night. “Won't fry you for now.�

“So you really do like me.�

“That, and the rotisserie's getting serviced in the shop,� she said casually, poking him in the back with one bony claw through the wool of his shirt. She hadn't even felt it coming out and breaking her skin. “I might improvise a six-skewer mini-barbecue if you insist, but a girl just craves the flair of chest and nuts roasting over open fire.�

Stephen pulled back and looked her in the eye then, then cracked up again. This time she couldn't help but join him, laughing into his shirt as his chest shook under her cheek.

“Man, you really are something else," he said just above her when they had stopped laughing. It was unusual and exciting, being so close to him and it made her skin raise in goosebumps. “Would you... I mean, wanna go out with me? Though we are out already, aren't we... you know what I mean,� Stephen said and pulled back to give her an embarrassed smile. “Wanna be my girlfriend?�

Kendall smiled back and something in her chest was doing a mad, happy conga. Must've been her heart. She narrowed her eyes at him. “No,� she said after a pause and pulled him closer, “but you can be my boyfriend if you want.�

Stephen pursed his lips and shook his head. “There's never a moment's break with you, is there?� he said. “I kinda like that.�

“Good! I feel like dancing, and you're coming with me,� she said and gave him a brilliant smile as she pulled the door open and dragged him back inside.

Chapter 6 – Hard Packets

The party had gone on without a hitch even from Logan's jaundiced viewpoint. Bit boring as usual, listening his team mates recount the same adventures year after year, but as usual there were new pairs of ears listening.

It wasn't half bad, lazing on someone else's couch for a change with 'Ro on his lap with the added benefit of watching Drake trying to decide which punch bowl had gotten spiked this year. Bobby always got it wrong, probably on purpose, and was taking over the storytelling with a glow on his cheeks. A few hours and Iceman would be fit to be rescued from the big chandelier in the hallway, trying to freeze himself a slide to ride back to safety but getting distracted by the hanging crystals.

Rogue was already asleep – he could pick up her tiny snores and Gambit's monologue with the fireplace just over the music from the stereo. The kids were slowly and sneakily pushing the volume upwards, their auditory nerves beginning to numb with alcohol after they'd taken stock on just which punchbowl Bobby had chosen.

There was supposed to be no alcohol served to minors but spiking the punch was just as much a tradition as holding the party on the Eve, and Logan figured the stuff was rather potent by now – he knew for certain that someone else in addition to himself and Remy had taken up bringing a well-hidden hip flask to the party. The thrice-spiked punch was bringing a bit of life into the gaggle of teens by the stereo, but Kendall wasn't among them – the girl must've taken after her little brother to keep an eye on the boy.

“... an' I t'ink it's best you be 'onest wit' 'er, knowing de girl in question,� Gumbo was saying quietly to the fireplace. “What's de worst dat can 'appen?�

“I end up diced and fried�, someone said almost imperceptibly and Logan had to suppress a surprised growl. That damn brain-scattering boy! No wonder Remy seemed to be talking to himself, that young Petty had probably sent his scent and image out to play in the snow... which raised the question: what the hell was he doing here? If that kid had counterfeited that signature in the absentee notification for the holiday residence roster... This time he really did growl.

“Something wrong?� 'Ro was giving him her full attention, half-way Storm already as the result of years of short notices. She set her wine glass down with a businesslike clink and tensed on his lap, probably busy taking stock of just how many of their X-men were sober enough for quick action.

Logan was about to give a negative answer when the owner of the voice unfolded himself from the floor, his image and scent returning like someone had twanged a rubber string. It made Logan's hackles rise, his overly keen senses thoroughly confused.

“I fuckin' hate when he does that,� he ground out quietly enough for only Ororo to hear. “That Petty boy.�

“Oh, Stephen? Isn't he supposed to be staying with his father over the holidays?� Great, now she was concerned and was starting to stand up. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, spotting the look on the boy's face. Like a beaten dog. He liked that even less than the boy's powers messing with his brain. Gumbo was talking to the kid again, calmly.

“... an' it's good dat you came 'ome. I'll call your Father an' you'll both cool off tonight. Ev'rythin' will be better by de morning,� Remy said, then added with a grin, “Who knows? Maybe y' even get diced.�

“Ah,� Ororo said quietly and settled back into his lap but Logan could tell she was still worried. Damn. He rubbed his fingertips in a soothing circle on the center of her back until her posture and breathing relaxed. The music was kicked up a notch again as a wave of girlish giggles rose from the group of teens beside the stereo.

“Want to take a little break, Logan?� She sounded tired.

“Thought ya'd never ask, 'Ro. My ears are ready ta bleed,� he grumbled and got up after her, suddenly cold without her body heat against him. She slipped her arm around him and his palm found its way to rest on the small of her back as they made their way out into the hallway, the previously open door swinging shut behind them soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. Something caught his eye, something green...

Mistletoe, tucked neatly into the garland of mixed greenery hung on the door. Logan saw his own grin reflected in the metal of his extending claw in the split second his hand stilled before he cut the festive sprig loose with surgical precision.

“Was wonderin' where Drake had hid it this year,� he said with satisfaction as he picked up the mistletoe, conveniently soaked in vodka to hide the scent from questing noses. “Finder's keepers, but if he thinks I'll play doorstop...� He held the rank sprig up between them and gave it a shake. “C'mere, darlin'. Let's make sure we keep our winning streak runnin' straight an' true.�

“Should I get you a stepladder?� she murmured but closed the small distance between them anyway to be kissed, her lips pliant and tangy with the remnants of the Shiraz she'd been sipping. He could taste the tannins on her tongue mingling with the residue of the wine, cinder, figs, plums and sun-toasted spices adding to the taste of her. 'Ro's mouth tasted always like summer rain and black tea, mellow and sweet on his tongue as it met with hers.

Her appreciative hum of pleasure vibrated against his lips as his hand came to hold her firmly against his chest, the hand with the mistletoe cradling the back of her head. He backed her against the wall by the door, planting his hand hard by her head as he broke the kiss. A rumbling growl rose from the pit of his stomach as he watched her glazed eyes close and her throat work as she swallowed slowly. The heady scent of her arousal was heating up his nostrils, a mixture of pheromones and burnt cinnamon. Logan closed his eyes, too, as he nuzzled the base of her throat - and then there was the jingle-jangle of reverberating steel in his ears.

Driven deep into the dark wood of the staircase banister was one of the steak knives from the dining room's formal set of tableware, ringing like merry bell - and pinning the sprig of mistletoe six feet above the hallway's floor.

Clever 'Roro, he thought and returned his attention to the obviously self-satisfied goddess before him, his eyes narrowing.

“Busy hands ya got, darlin',� he murmured and yanked her right hand to his eye level by the slender wrist. He could hear her pulse quickening as he kept a firm grip on her hand as he turned it this way and that, giving it a careful once-over and brushing his lips against her wrist. “Better make sure ya don't tire yourself out, wavin' 'em about like that.� He found her left hand tucked behind her back and drew it out, too, pinning her hands to her sides.

“Now where were we?� he mused and took a look at the mistletoe, then drew her to stand under it. “Waste not, especially since ya went to the trouble of pilferin' that handy knife an' all. Ya sure that stealin' things doesn't go on the naughty list?� He gave her wrists a sharp tug as he bit into her shoulder, half daring her to make a sound or struggle. Ororo whimpered and shifted her weight but her head lolled back, exposing her slender throat to him.

“Only if it's done selfishly,� she said, her voice already a little ragged. “And it's the season of giving...�

“... so how 'bout I give ya yer hands back, eh?� He pretended to consider as his teeth worried at the thin skin covering her jugular. “In exchange for a little somethin', maybe.�

“Now what would that be, Logan?� It was hard to tell the tone of her voice when her throat was strained like that. She shuddered deliciously when he licked his way up from her clavicle to the base of her jaw.

“You an' me on the balcony, a little party away from the party. Old times' sake.�

“Done,� she said, and then her hands were fisted in his hair and tugging at his clothes as he claimed her mouth again. They were both vaguely aware of a scurry of footsteps passing them and the kitchen door slamming somewhere in the darkened dining room. The sound of the living room's door clicking back shut barely registered as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs, the sounds of the party booming softly in the background. No one was around to hear them laughing liker co-conspirators.

The door of Ororo's old bedroom made the same tell-tale creak than it had almost twenty years ago, the hinges positively wailing as a she kicked it shut when he set her down, her hands already busy with the back zipper of her strapless black Betsey Johnson dress. It hugged her curves like it had been painted on and while having two kids had changed her body, the hourglass shape of her had only increased to pin-up girl proportions. Talk about dangerous curves...

“Leave it on,� Logan said huskily, running his thumbs over the edge of the silky fabric where her breasts strained against the confines of the bodice. They heaved hypnotically in time of her breathing. “Y'look lethal in that thing. Christ, 'Ro...�

Her shoes hit the floor with a double-thunk as he crushed her against his chest, her hands grabbing his ass for balance. He ran one hand up her smooth thigh, guiding it to raise up to rest on his hip, his questing fingers finding the edge of the lacy scrap of her underwear and snapping it against her skin. He didn't need to touch her to know that she was ready for him, the whimper escaping her lips as he claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss making it as clear as her scent enveloping him like rising smoke. Hickory and burnt cinnamon...

“Balcony. Now,� he said and gave her mouth a final peck before giving her ass a hard squeeze and that was all the hint she needed, hopping up to wrap her legs around his waist as he maneuvered them towards the glass doors of the balcony. His brain registered distantly the scent of pure oxygen and the doors flew open, letting the crisp night air into the attic as they careened outside.

He'd almost gotten used to the Poltergeist crap she did when no-one was looking. Almost.

Ororo's back came to rest against the cool wall, the temperature difference lost to her when his fingers found her slick lips, delving into her mercilessly and curling against the spot that made her feel ready to explode. She writhed, torn between shying away from the sensory overload and wanting more, her shoulders burning against the friction of the wall and her thighs pressing into his jutting hipbones.

“Ngh,� she said eloquently and cracked one eye open to give him an imperious glare. Logan, being a man well versed in both self-preservation and Ororo-speak understood it for the demand it was, removed his fingers from her core and yanked her underwear aside. A moment later the wide head of his cock was rubbing against her wetness and she pushed down on his shoulders to shift herself for a better angle, allowing him better to press into her.

His teeth closed in a gentle hold on her throat, the question always there, and as always she gave it without hesitation, tilting her head back, signaling her yielding and consent better than a thousand words might have. The hold of his teeth tightened, squeezing her airway as he slowly pushed all the way home, only letting go when he was fully sheathed in her, her whimpering filling his ears.

They stayed like that for a moment, their breaths hanging in the air in lazy clouds of white drifting towards the heavens. Then Logan buried his face in her chest, nipping the tender flesh of her left breast as he rocked his hips, driving her quite literally up the wall, her heels digging into his lower back.

He was drawing moans from her, thrusting deep and hard into her with a steady rhythm, hitting the sweetest spots available like this until there was nothing but a single vowel left of his name on her lips, her back arching and her hand reaching for the stars in the sky. The powdery snow that had gathered on the balcony floor blew around and around his ankles, waltzed by a languorous breeze.

He'd gone beyond words, too, but it was all the same - he wasn't much of a talker when seeing to his lady. His breath came in ragged grunts as he picked up a pace neither of them could stand for long, slamming into her with small bright explosions of light peppering the inside of his eyelids.

The friction was simply too much, there was too much heat between them and still never quite enough. He could never drive deep enough into her, never hear his fill of her pleasured cries, never get enough even when too much became just right. He was near his breaking point and so was she, winding tighter and tighter around his achingly hard cock as he pounded into her as her breath hitched in her throat, coming out in strained whimpers.

Logan fought for control and slowed down, not yet ready to end this little tryst. The wind licking his ankles howled as the goddess in his arms gave a cry that could have, should have scattered the sky.

He gave a roar around his bite on her flesh, he wasn't sure where and didn't give a shit either as her legs around his waist flexed and pulled him deeper into her wetness, squeezing him with desperate strength.

For a brief moment the air stood still as they came apart together, and then the glass doors of the balcony flapped open and closed like those of a saloon, rocked by a gust of wind that almost knocked Logan off his feet. Or would've, if they had still been on the floor of the balcony.

“Love ya,� he murmured against her cleavage when he had caught his breath, laying a kiss over her heart where the evidence of his bite shone dull red on her chocolate skin.

“I love you too,� Ororo said, her hands combing through his hair gently. “Merry Christmas, Logan.�

“Yeah,� he said and risked a glance downwards. “Uh, darlin'...�

“Oh, all right,� she sighed and his boots touched down on the cool stone. He lifted her upwards to pull out of her and set her down on her feet to put himself back to rights.
Logan watched with amusement as she tugged the hem of her skirt down over her hips with a little shimmy. Chuckling, he gathered her in his arms, giving her ass a playful swat. “Merry Christmas, 'Ro�, he said and kissed her again, this time gently and patiently.

“Now, what do you say about a shower as long as we are walking down Memory Lane? My treat,� she said and took his hand, leading him back into the attic, calling up a soft monsoon in the en suite bathroom.

“Only if ya promise ta drop the soap, babe.�

She chuckled, and they both startled as a lightning bolt arced across the cloudless sky. Logan leveled a questing look at her.

“Oops,� Ororo said sheepishly.

“Huh,� he grunted. “The wine makin' ya slip a bit?�

“You could say that�, she murmured as she squirmed to remove her soaked panties, watching him toss his shirt over his head as he strutted towards the bathroom. His jeans followed suit just as he stepped under the warm downpour.

The sound of almost silently jingling keys was lost to Logan, cloaked under the sound of the dress' zipper opening and the whisper silken cloth pooling on the floor.

Ororo plucked the garage keys out of the back of her bra and grinned to herself. Wine making me slip, indeed... She spared a white-eyed glance towards the balcony doors and the happily humming air that bubbled like a lava lamp in her vision. Oh, Kennie, Kennie, Kennie! She laughed under her breath as she swung into the bathroom after her husband.


Later...

Kendall was traipsing on clouds when she made her way back to the boathouse – literally. They had danced and danced until Uncle Remy had kicked them out, telling her that her parents had already collected her little brother and headed home. There had been some more kisses under that conveniently installed mistletoe and then Stephen had put a small package in her hand, insisting that she opened it only when she got home.

Kendall was itching to tear the package open when she nudged her bedroom window open and landed unceremoniously on her bed, her hands already busy shredding the wrapping paper to reveal a small lacquer box.

Curiously she flipped the top open and picked up a silver necklace with a triangular white thing that looked deceptively like a guitar pick. Shark tooth, she realised and smiled, putting the necklace on. There was a note in the box and she smoothed it out carefully. It was a simple Christmas card with Santa and a short “Merry X-mas from Stephen� scrawled on the other side – nothing too fancy, but she wasn't exactly expecting a sonnet from a guy who'd had trouble composing a grocery shopping list.

Kendall flopped on her back, watching shadows play across the ceiling. She touched her fingertips to her lips and smiled – something new and volatile was bubbling inside her, making her feel weightless and restless.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as a paper plane flew in through her open bedroom window, making a lazy spiral above her head and diving down to land in the middle of her eyebrows. What the hell?

Kendall grabbed the plane and found it surprisingly heavy, made of what looked like one of the pages of that old girlie calendar in the garage. She unfolded it carefully, snickering. Someone had given a mustache to Miss October and drawn tassels on her breasts with a black marker.

She held the page up with trembling fingers. Over the single day her father hadn't crossed over lay a Post-It note filled with neat copperplate script.

Merry Christmas, my kestrel!
I hope you enjoy your gift - best not to say anything about this to your father. He doesn't know that he promised the bike to you yet, and truth might hit him a bit too hard. Don't worry – he'll live, and so will you.
Love, Mother
PS: Nice light show tonight. Make sure you cover your tracks.

Kendall unfolded the neatly creased last fold of heavy paper and her eyes found a pair of keys with the tag reading “6� attached to them. Two different keys to deadbolt locks, a key to obviously something motored and a fob were on the same ring with the tag.

The keys glittered silver and jingled merrily like tiny bells as she picked them up to inspect the metal keychain charm. It read, 'Triumph'.





A/N: If you want to take a gander at what Ororo's lethal little dress might look like, lookie here.

Also, if you need to freshen your memory on what a Triumph Bonneville looks like, head this way.