Every year, without fail, April Fool's Day turned the Institute into a veritable warzone. The Professor let students get away with their jokes because he felt that the students needed as much normalcy in their life as they could... And if they found that in pranking each other, then by all means, he would allow it.

He figured that forbidding them entirely would only encourage more outrageous stints; at least if he allowed them to go wild, he could set ground rules that could be followed. Absolutely no one was to get hurt as a result of the pranks, and whatever pranks they came up with would not result in thousands of dollars' worth of property damage to the Institute. That his leniency seemed to spare him and the rest of the staff from the school-wide pranks was a perk they were all relieved to enjoy.

Alas, that no longer seemed to be the case. Charles shook his head in wry amusement at his open wardrobe. It wasn't enough that he woke to find that, in place of his regular wheelchair, he found a special, customized one fashioned after the captain's chair on the S.S. Enterprise. (He wasn't sure if he wanted to know how they managed this.) To add insult to injury, his collection of coats, sweater vests, tweed and other respectable attire had been replaced with a set of black tights and a smart-looking shirt of maroon and black, one with a familiar insignia stitched over the left breast. Taped to the door of his closet was a note written in Klingon that he knew read "April Fool's, Professor!" without having to consult the enclosed translation key.

He sighed. He only hoped that the other teachers would be as forgiving.

Now, to determine how best to go about putting on this uniform...

***

Three Aprils ago, Ororo and the rest of the mansion woke to several shrieks - quite a few of the girls (and some of the boys) found their shampoo spiked with varying degrees of food coloring, and poor Kurt had refused to emerge from his room for the rest of the day. Since then, Ororo made a practice of buying a new set of bath essentials on the eve of the holiday, kept it from prying hands and took to the skies for a morning shower. (If she was vain about one thing, it was her hair.) Unorthodox and quite extensive, but it wasn't as if she was new to the practice. After all, it had been a daily occurrence back in her teen years on the Serengeti, and she did still sometimes have the urge to bathe in a raincloud of her own making every once in a while.

Ororo rose from bed, slipping out of her nightgown and into a comfortable terrycloth robe. She took a small bag of the simplest bathroom essentials, and headed towards the glass doors that opened into her modest balcony. It was early - not even dawn yet - but she had to shower at this hour if she didn't want to risk being seen by impressionable young minds. As she summoned a wind and took to the sky, she didn't hear the lock on her door turn.

About an hour later found Ororo fresh from her shower and alighting onto her balcony, only to find that her doors refused to open. Suspicion began to creep up her spine, but before she could even wonder why, loud music (Was that High School Musical...?) began to blare out of the window one room over - Logan's room.

Half a second later, when the music abruptly died, the balcony doors were flung open, followed by several alarm clocks that had seen the business end of Wolverine's claws.

She was still blinking when he finally turned to her, all tousled hair and rumpled sleepwear, snarling somewhat.

She threw him a sympathetic smile. "Good morning to you, too, Logan."

"Nothin' good about it, 'Ro." He rumbled, scowling down at the bushes where the clocks had landed.

She leaned onto the railing that separated her balcony from his, folding her arms. "Yes, well. At least you haven't been locked out of your own room. I loathe to think of what they've done in there."

"Yeah? They got you, too?" He frowned.

"Apparently." She tried the doors again, and sighed when they refused to budge. While certainly capable of it, she really didn't relish the idea of breaking into her own room... She turned back to Logan, a question in her eyes, and he nodded before she could ask.

"Come on, then. Let's see if they haven't locked your other door." She smiled gratefully, effortlessly floating over to his balcony and followed him into his room.

"It's strange; they don't normally target specific people, much less us teachers."

"I really wouldn't put it past them to start now, darlin'. If anything, it was only a matter of time before they'd-..." His voice trailed off, and Ororo looked up from where she had stepped inside.

"Logan?"

When she got a snikt in reply, she hurried over to where he was standing and glaring menacingly at his bed. "Logan, what's... ah."

Lying on the rumpled, unkept sheets was a very familiar pair of lacy black panties. She quirked an eyebrow, and sent Logan a curious look as she picked up her wayward piece of underwear.

The claws were retracted as he hastily held his hands up. "That wasn't there when I got up, 'Ro, I swear."

"I believe you, Logan." Her voice was cool and her face an expression of practiced calm, but he heard the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. "It was on my bed when I left my room earlier - what I'd like to know, however, is how it got here."

He took a careful sniff of his room and caught the faint scent of peppermint and cayenne spice. "Stripes," he growled. "I am gonna kill that kid."

Ororo smiled wryly as she walked out and towards her own room. "I'm sure you will, Logan. Before that, it might be smart to find out who her co-conspirators are, yes?"

Sure enough, the door to her room was left ajar. She was absolutely certain she'd locked it before she took her bath, and there was only one other person in the mansion who could and would pick a locked door. Logan was growling again by the time they both carefully stepped inside.

She took inventory of her room - nothing seemed out of place, but she knew better. After inspecting her bed, she opened her closet doors and expected the worst.

This time, Storm didn't bother masking her annoyance. She glared at Logan's appreciative wolf whistle, and lightning flashed in the clear, lightening sky outside.

Her closet was completely bare, save for a few choice pieces of lingerie, each more risqué than the last. Tacked to one of the doors was a red rose, and a note that reeked of familiar cologne.

'For you, Stormy~'

***

Hank sighed. It was long, drawn-out and tired, but a smile stubbornly played at his lips anyway.

He was trying to be angry at the fact that the morning coffee was frozen within the confines of the carafe. And that the sugar was salty, that the toilet overflowed with frothy pink bubbles when he'd flushed it this morning, that his computers' language settings had been set to a language he didn't understand a word of (Korean), and that his beloved Twinkies had been phased out of their wrappers and replaced with rolled up pieces of foam. He was justifiably irked that they'd somehow put bright pink highlights into his fur… but truthfully, he was far more curious as to how they snuck into his room last night to manage it. He suspected Jean's telepathy may have been in play, but surely she was surely above such trickery... wasn't she?

But, he liked to think he got off easy.

He grinned openly at Charles as he wheeled past in his Picard costume. There was a lingering scent of sulfur and brimstone on the upholstery of the cleverly customized chair, and he thought Kurt lucky that Charles was humoring him.

Gambit would probably suffer a far worse fate, he mused as Ororo bustled around the kitchen in, if there was any truth to what Logan had muttered to him earlier, nothing but a short terrycloth robe. She spared the coffee maker a thoughtful frown before she took down some packets of instant coffee from the cupboards, her motions swift and no-nonsense.

"I wonder, Charles, how they would feel," she was murmuring in low tones that Hank and Logan had no trouble hearing from across the kitchen, "If they learned that I spent quite a few years in a society without your culture's silly taboos on nudity..."

Hank chuckled and Logan let out a sudden bark of laughter. "If you'll be streaking through the mansion, 'Ro, you better let me know 'cause I've got dibs on front-row seats."

"There will be no streaking in this house, Logan." Charles said, voice sharp but eyes dancing with amusement.

"Cryin' shame, that." He stalked over to fridge and took a bottle of beer. "Dunno about you, Chuck, but if those kids think fer one minute they're gettin' away with all this..." He paused for dramatic effect to take a swig of his drink -

- only to spit it all out in a fine spray of... pink?

"What the flying fu-"

"Logan!"

Hank, who had finally put down the morning paper, leaned over to examine the mystery drink once the initial shock had worn off. "It appears that our young friends have replaced Logan's alcohol with," A careful sniff, and a laughing smile. "Kool-Aid."

Oh yes, Hank thought with a grin as Wolverine let out a string of colorful curses that had Storm swatting him with the kitchen towel she was using to clean up his mess. April Fool's wasn't so bad if it meant watching this unfold.

***

End Notes: Gambit is the only one brave enough to prank Storm, much less handle her underwear like that. I imagine he'd think he'd get away with it with his charming personality and way with the ladies… Of course, Storm is no ordinary lady.

Logan doesn't know it, but Laura helped plant the alarm clocks and Ro's unmentionables in his room. She's the only one stealthy enough for it. Rogue probably bribed her with something. Or convinced her that it was tradition of some sort.

Kurt persuaded Forge in the customization of the Prof's chair.

The kids went 'easy' on Hank because he's awesome. And probably doesn't have reactions as funny as Wolverine's.

And lastly, Kitty phased the bottlecaps out of Wolverine's stash of beer so they could replace it with Kool-Aid. No one would admit as to what happened to the actual beer. This idea was pretty much the entire reason this chapter exists.

Thought I'd upload this in time for Easter in a little over a week. As always; this is set in the X-Men Evolution universe. You know, the place where Forge and Jean are jailbait and T'Challa is not mentioned ever, thus ridding Logan and Ororo of excess emotional baggage... Heh.

-x-

Entering the kitchen was like stepping into another dimension, one full of pastel colors and the sickeningly sweet smell of sugared candies. Logan wrinkled his nose, and sneezed.

"Bless you, Logan."

He looked up. The sensory overload he got from entering was so great, he barely even scented her. "Uh. Thanks, 'Roro."

She smiled in response, but had yet to spare him a glance. Her blue eyes were focused on the delicate, white spiraling motif that she was painting onto a pale blue hardboiled egg. "I'm surprised you changed your mind," she was saying. Her brush moved in smooth, even strokes.

He rolled his eyes; she didn't sound the least bit surprised. "You think I'm here to help you paint those sissy eggs, darlin'?"

The egg was carefully set aside into an egg carton to dry, alongside half a dozen others already painted and neatly lined up like soldiers. "I was hoping so, yes. A little fun never hurt anyone, and Charles seems to like the idea of an Easter egg hunt."

"Pretty lame if you ask me. 'Sides, he just says that 'cause he won't even be here for it." Every year, the Professor would be take a few of the students to a church in the city on Easter Sunday, leaving the rest of the adults in charge of the kids who wouldn't be joining him… the same kids who would be raising hell in and around the mansion if and when they decided to have fun hunting a few dyed eggs down.

At that moment, Hank strode in. He paused at the door of the kitchen just as Logan had done earlier, and let out a similarly loud sneeze.

"My stars, Ororo! Did you, perchance, buy out the entire sweet shop?"

Ororo looked up at him, smiling apologetically. "Charles and I were discussing how we don't treat the children like children very often at all, and I thought this was a good chance for it."

"So you went and got enough candy to feed a small army." Logan said from where he was leaning on the counter (he'd picked up one of Ororo's 'practice eggs', and was examining it with feigned nonchalance). "You just want a chance to spoil the damn kids, 'Ro."

"Well, my friend, there's certainly no harm in it. And if it gives the non-practicing of the students a chance to get in the spirit of the season, then I myself have no complaints!" Hank grinned, selecting a chocolate bunny from Ororo's recent candy run. "And these do bring back fond memories."

Ororo smiled pleasantly. "Keep those hands away, Henry McCoy. The sweets are for the children."

Logan guffawed as Hank mocked an expression of utmost hurt and put one furry paw upon his heart. "He is right, you know. You are spoiling them."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that right? I don't suppose you're taking his side, now?"

Hank put his hands up hastily and innocently. "No, no. Of course not. But you must remember, my dear, that these are no ordinary children we're dealing with."

"Got that right." Logan folded his arms over his chest. "These're kids dealin' with mutant terrorists and giant robot Sentinels every other week, darlin'. An' you want them to go on an egg hunt?"

Ororo, however, was having none of it and resolutely keeping that infamous eyebrow arch trained on the two men. "I'm well aware. I was thinking of arranging something... special, for the children." The paintbrush she'd been holding was delicately set down onto the table with a faint click.

Hank shot Logan a surprised sidelong glance, but found that the feral mutant was already smirking. "Yeah? And just how special are we talkin', here?"

"Well," The weather witch continued, calmly putting away her things as if she were speaking about the weather. "I was thinking of something along the lines of an all powers allowed Easter egg hunt, with a twist or two..."

-x-

It was a bright and sunny Easter Sunday that found Kitty returning to Bayville. She'd spent the last week and a half with her family for Passover like she did every year, and that was always something to look forward to. But she learned early on that every time she had to go, it got a little harder to leave what had become a second home.

She waved goodbye to the dark SUV that was pulling out of the mansion gates just as her cab was pulling in. She was kinda disappointed she didn't get to talk to Kurt or Jean and the others before they left with the Professor to hear mass at a church downtown, but she hadn't expected her flight to be so totally delayed by some low pressure areas around Chicago. She glanced up at the clear, cloudless sky over the Institute and grinned. Well, at least Ororo seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

The mansion was curiously empty when she stepped inside. She frowned.

"What, no welcoming committee?" She asked aloud, crossing her arms and pouting.

She was sulking up the stairs when she ran into a speedwalking Rogue at the entrance to the girls' wing.

"Kitty!" she exclaimed as the two roommates helped each other up. "Ah was wonderin' when ya'd get back!"

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" She grinned. "Where're you off to, huh? In a hurry to, like, meet someone~?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yeah, just Logan. It's Sunday, but suddenly he says somethin' about wanting everyone outside in – " she checked her wristwatch, "five minutes. So ya better suit up, Kit. Ya know how he feels 'bout latecomers."

"But I just got here!" she protested as Rogue headed off to the stairs.

"So?"

Kitty sighed.

-x-

Twenty minutes later, Kitty jogged down across the mansion grounds to where the rest of her fellow students were just standing around. Remy was talking to (rather, talking at) Rogue, Bobby seemed to be telling Ray a joke that looked to be a dirty one, given the mildly disgusted look Laura was throwing them, and how Amara had immediately clapped her hands over Jamie's ears ("But I wanna hear how it ends!"). Jubilee and Danielle were whispering and giggling at something, but paused to wave Kitty over excitedly. She would have waved back, but the way Piotr was subtly smiling at something Tabby told him turned her stomach. All in all, it was a familiar sight, if not for the fact that Wolverine was distinctly absent.

"Hey!" She called out. "I thought Mr. Logan was doing some exercise or whatever."

"Or whatever's right, Half-Pint. Glad ya could join us." Kitty jumped about a foot as a gruff, annoyed voice crackled out of speakers she could not see (she'd later find out he was using some newly-installed speakers around the garden.)

Bobby and Ray snickered, and she scowled. "That's fifteen minutes off yer time, folks. Try'n remember that the next time one'a ya decide t'be late."

One voice rose amidst the resulting chorus of groans.

"Wolverine, do not be ridiculous."

They all quieted down as they heard Storm loud and clear over the speakers. "Because of the circumstance, Shadowcat, we will overlook your late arrival. But please keep in mind that tardiness will be not tolerated next time. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Ms. Munr-… Yes, Storm."

"And Kitty?"

"Yes, Storm?"

"Welcome home."

She beamed.

"Now that we are all here, we may begin. And no, Wolverine, there will be no deductions to their time." She added to the grumbling Logan that they could all still hear.

The children all exchanged grins. Remy, who had somehow crept over to Rogue's side to sling a careless arm around her shoulders, smirked. "The big, bad Wolverine, whipped. Who'da thought, eh?"

"-Nor will there be any more smart comments from you, Gambit. We do have cameras, as I am sure you already know."

He managed a lazy salute (Rogue had immediately and violently shrugged off his arm). "Not another word, Stormy. Thief's honor."

"All right, all right, let's get down to business here." Logan's voice came back on, and this time the kids stood a little straighter.

Hank's voice came on next, professional and just a touch upbeat. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is quite simple," he paused, presumably for dramatic effect.

"Find all the eggs."

Tabby was the first to recover. "What the heck?"

"I'm sure you are all, to an extent, familiar with the practice of hunting eggs on this particular Sunday yes?" he continued, sounding a little too cheerful for their tastes.

"Well, yes, but… we thought this was a field exercise, Mr. McCoy." Dani piped up curiously, and a little hopefully. Of the gathered students, she was the one least comfortable with being on the field. Given that her powers weren't exactly the most offensive in nature, it was understandable.

"And it is, Danielle. But who says it can't be a little fun?" They all heard the smile in Ororo's words, but they weren't sure how to feel about that. Before any of them could say any more, Wolverine was speaking again.

"Basically you guys team up and find the eggs. There's somewhere around fifty o'them hidden all around the grounds, and the objective is to find 'em all. Points for every egg found, minus points for every one broken."

At this point, Ray and Bobby could barely contain their laughter. "An Easter Egg Hunt? Seriously?"

"Oh, we're quite serious Mr. Drake, Mr. Crisp." Hank said pleasantly. "We should mention that ten of those eggs are ticking time bombs, courtesy of yours truly."

The garden went dead silent.

"If you succeed," Storm went on, speaking calmly. "you get a free pass the next time Wolverine schedules an early morning Danger Room session."

"And when you guys don't, it's a week of five AM sessions with yours truly. How about that, eh?"

That woke them up. There was a general uproar of protest ("Actual bombs? Are they insane?" "Don't be a wuss! We've faced worse in the Danger Room!" "Or, you know, on the field." "But bombs?" "Exploding Easter eggs, guys! How cool is that?" "Shut up, Bobby."), until Hank cleared his throat.

"You may use your powers to the best of your abilities to locate and diffuse them. However, all bets are off once you cause any property damage to the Institute, so I suggest you use them wisely."

"You have sixty minutes."

They didn't need to see them to know that the adults were all smiling.

-x-

Inside the Security Room, Logan was barking some last minute reminders into the mic.

"Laura! This's a team exercise, so don't even think about goin' lone wolf on this."

Ororo hid a smile. Hypocrite, she thought, rearranging a few marshmallow peeps to her liking. She was standing by a long folding table that she'd set up within the room, laden with a little more than a dozen baskets filled with the candy she'd prepared for them. She loved those kids dearly, and even if she thought up the plan herself (the bombs were Logan's idea), she felt a little guilty for leading them on like that.

"I wonder if they will realize that your little bombs are nothing but exploding flashes of light, Henry?"

"You wound me, Ororo! They wouldn't know for sure until the last minute."

"Still think we shoulda used real ones." He was still looking at the screens intently, watching as Rogue and surprisingly Bobby throwing out directions and gathering the team into some semblance of organization. Hopefully 'Ro wouldn't notice his hand creeping towards one of those peeps...

Ororo swatted his hand away. "Wolverine!"

Hank leaned back into his swivel chair, sipping his cup of Irish coffee in contentment. He would have go down the hall to prep the infirmary soon, for he knew that injuries of some sort would be inevitable. But for now, he would kick back and enjoy the show.

With so many mutants under one roof, you were bound to overhear the strangest things in the hallways. For Hank and Logan, blessed with enhanced senses, it meant occasionally eavesdropping on strange conversations without ever meaning to. At some point, they'd both learned to tune certain things out, achieve some sort of selective hearing to preserve some measure of respect for privacy (or in Logan's case, sanity.) Sometimes, though, some things you can't help but overhear.

"Well, I can't do it." Jean's voice was explaining patiently. "Scott and I are stopping by the grocery for stuff we'll need for tonight."

"Might take us a while, too, if the menu you've got so far's any indication... Can't you go on one of your shopping sprees with her, Kitty?"

"I would, but I don't trust any of you to get the decorating right, you know? No offense, Rogue."

"None taken." Rogue had replied dryly. Logan could practically see the roll of her eyes.

"Well, perhaps we can get Herr Logan to do it for us?"

Hank turned to his friend in surprise and curiosity, wondering how and why his name suddenly came up in their conspiring, only to find that he was already halfway to the Rec Room. Hank sighed, shaking his head as he followed.

"Speak of the devil!" Kurt exclaimed from his perch on the hanging ceiling light. Logan felt his hackles rise at the excitement in his tone, glaring at the occupants of the room with a suspicious narrow of his eyes.

"What the hell're you kids up to?"

The kids blinked as one, but Jean spoke up, apparently totally unfazed by the gruffness of his tone.

"Logan, we need you to take Ororo out today."

He chose to ignore the surprised, hearty chuckle that came from Hank. "What."

"We're planning a surprise dinner for her tonight," Kitty said by way of explanation, "So we need her out of the house, but without suspecting anything."

The confusion must've shown on his face, despite best efforts to conceal it, for Hank cleared his throat next to him. "I believe what Ms. Pryde means, Logan, is that they've arranged to throw dear Ororo a little party in honor of the holiday." He smiled. "It is Mother's Day today, correct?"

"Right!" Kitty nodded eagerly.

"It was Scott's idea, sort of." Jean said, smiling fondly at Scott, the tenderness in her eyes making him flush. Kurt and Rogue mimed gagging behind them. "He overheard me greeting my own mom over the phone, earlier, and he mentioned something about Storm acting as den mother to us all without any of us really realizing..."

"And then I kinda overheard them, and was like: oh my gosh, that's totally true! So -"

"So you took the idea and ran with it." Logan interjected, before Kitty could continue. They'd never hear the end of it, if she had.

But she just grinned unabashedly, clearly too excited by the prospect of throwing a party for Storm.

"Well, I for one think it's a splendid idea." Hank said, clapping his hands together with a bright smile. "Heaven knows we owe it to Ororo, after all she's done for us."

Logan shrugged. He wasn't sure if 'Ro would be big on all this pomp and circumstance over some Hallmark holiday. He could already picture her brows drawing up the slightest bit, probably overwhelmed at all the sudden attention, but never letting such an obvious display of emotion come to surface. She'd appreciate all the effort that they'd go to, though. If anything, Ororo was always giving and unfailingly patient.

Still...

"All right, so throw her a party." He said, and that was about as close as they were going to get to an approval from him. "I don't get why you need me to take her out, though."

To his surprise, Kitty raised an eyebrow at him, in perfect imitation of what he'd deemed as Storm's Look.

"Duh? Because you're practically her boyfriend, and that's what boyfriends do?"

Logan promptly began to choke on air.

Rogue rolled her eyes. "S'not like it's a secret, geez. Everyone knows."

This time, Hank laughed long and hard.

-x-

Logan stalked through the corridor, growling to himself. He still wasn't quite sure how he was roped into this. Might've had something to do with the fact that he didn't feel all that comfortable hearing a bunch of kids gossip about his relationship with the resident weather goddess. Not when he himself had no idea what he had with her, anyway. True, they'd long been the victims of whispered and suggestive teasing - the rumours had been flying around them since day one (courtesy of the Professor, of all people). Been ignorin' them since day one. Well, he did most of the ignoring; Storm took it all with a faintly amused or embarrassed smile.

Of course, it only got worse after he'd taken her out for Valentine's. He sighed, ran a rough palm over one side of his face. Take a woman out on one date, and suddenly the whole mansion's stalking your every move. He hadn't even taken her out since and they both hadn't really spoken about it, so it wasn't much of a stretch to figure that she was as in the dark about their relationship as he was.

Still, if there was one thing he was sure of, it's that the pull of attraction was mutual. And on a really good day, if he was completely and totally honest with himself (i.e. not very often), he'd admit that maybe, there was something more'n attraction there, too.

He was hesitant to put a label on whatever it was they were, though. There was a connection there, sure. Wasn't so stupid that he'd miss something like that. But - boyfriend, girlfriend, or whatever... He scowled. They weren't teenagers for Chrissake. And frankly, 'girlfriend' seemed too superficial a term for someone like Ororo.

Besides, a relationship meant commitment. And as always, Logan's thoughts screeched to a full-stop at those words.

He was surprised to find the door to her room ajar when he came to it, robbing him of the chance to collect himself before he could speak up. Ororo had a perfect view of the doorway from where she stood in front of her vanity.

"Logan, good morning." She greeted warmly, meeting his reflection's gaze with a smile. Her platinum locks were swept over one shoulder as she put on a pair of black hoop earrings. And the rest of her outfit... Logan fought the urge to whistle low and long. She had on a royal purple dress, snug in all the right places. It had a modest neckline, as was characteristic of her, but it exposed her shoulders - which made him want to shrug off his leather bomber and cover her with it. What would've been a decent hem on an average woman threatened to be almost too short on 'Ro, who stood close to six feet. Speaking of feet, she decided on a pair of sleek stilettos that seemed to make her already long legs even longer.

It occurred to him that she looked like she was dressed for a date.

Maybe Jeannie told her ahead of time? He'd have to chew her out for that later, even if it spared him the trouble. Damn kids and their matchmaking, was the last thought he kept to himself even as he grinned.

"Goin' on a date, darlin'?" he drawled, leaning on the doorjamb.

"Something like that, yes." She smiled as shook her hair out so that hung in thick, lush waves down her back. "I'm meeting my sister for lunch, today."

He blinked and managed to catch his balance on the other side of the doorway. "What, really?"

She turned to him then, last touches of make-up carefully and skillfully applied. "Yes, really. It's Mother's Day, today. It's not exactly a most enjoyable holiday for her, since..."

Since Evan, his mind supplied.

"Huh."

She cleared her throat before continuing. "... And so I've taken to spending the day with her, these past few years. Brunch, some shopping, perhaps some coffee afterwards…"

"Huh." He repeated. And nodded, belatedly, to show that he was paying attention, contrary to his surprisingly intelligent comebacks.

"Yes." She'd picked up a clutch that rested on the edge of her dresser. "But enough about that; was there something you needed, Logan?"

-x-

The girls could not be bothered to hide their disappointment when Logan informed them that they didn't need him to keep Storm from the house after all. Kitty and Jubilee had made loud protests, and Rogue just threw her hands up in the air in disbelief. When Jean came back from her grocery run with Scott and heard the news, she had the audacity to hunt him down out on the back porch just to give him a severe 'this is all your fault and you have to fix it' look, before retreating back into the kitchen.

He had half a mind to hop on his bike and just disappear for a week, if he hadn't been accosted by Hank on his way to the garage.

"We are on cake duty." He said simply, cheerily, taking Logan's arm in one mighty, furry paw and dragging him into a corner of the kitchen that wasn't occupied by crazy teenager and/or young adult.

And that was how he found himself with a bowl of cake batter alongside Hank, who was chopping up some pistachios. He was considering how best to go about telling Logan that it probably wasn't a good idea to beat the cake so violently.

"Don't see what all the fuss's about." he was grumbling, glaring into his bowl. "It's just a damn holiday."

"Oh do hush your griping, my friend." Logan bristled at the overly genial tone that Hank took. "We both know that if you truly did not want to be here, you would be halfway across the state on that infernal bike of yours by now."

"And there's certainly no harm in indulging them, now, is there?" Hank finished with his pistachios, patiently waited for an opening when he could add them into Logan's bowl. "It's high time, I would think, given the role she's elected to play for these children."

Because that's what they were, children. For all their heroics and grandstanding and saving the world from terrorists and bigoted politicians, at the core, there were all so painfully young. Without being asked to, Storm had assumed the role of something of a den mother from the very beginning. True, most of the kids still had mothers, but the presence of an older woman was all manner of comforting for them all.

For the girls, she was the valuable older female figure that they needed to look to. She was Jean's confidante the moment she stepped into the mansion. She helped Kitty battle homesickness and shared the much younger girl's love for Jimmy Choos. Logan would be forever grateful he could turn Laura to her direction when she came to him with all sorts of womanly questions. And though Rogue would never, ever admit to it, Storm was something of a role model. Every girl in the mansion wishes they had at least some measure of Ororo's grace and beauty, but Rogue wished she might one day have the kind of control Ororo has over her own powers.

Even the boys respected her; Hank was easily popular among the kids and Logan was infamously hard on them all the time, but Storm commanded respect in a way only a mother (or a queen, or a goddess) could. Everyone was terrified of Logan's rage, but God have mercy on your soul if you ever get on the receiving end of Storm's disappointed gazes. A single, arched perfect eyebrow was enough to cow even Remy into a slew of guilty confessions.

Wolverine paused in stirring as Scott peeked into the kitchen to ask Jean for confirmation on something concerning the folding tables they were setting up outside. A memory came, unbidden, of a much younger Cyclops, the first of Charles Xavier's students, during his early days at the Institute. The Professor had become his mentor and legal guardian and respected father figure, sure, but in those first weeks, it had been Ororo who helped chase away nightmares with her ever-helpful cups of tea. The two had more in common than they ever let on; both orphaned at young ages, both initially uncomfortable at the unfamiliar safety that the opulent mansion's roof provided over their heads, a strong initiative to lead...

Hank (who had since taken the opportunity to add in his ingredients into the batter) followed his gaze to the young, straight-laced, fearless leader of the X-Men. He smiled as Scott snatched a pepper shaker from Gambit's hands before he could add it to whatever it was he had on the stove. He tossed a little bottle of cumin to him instead, telling him exactly how much of the spice Ororo liked in her food before heading back outside.

"I'd trust him if I were you," Beast called out to the young former thief. "He's been Ororo's loyal sous chef since before any of you young ones even stepped foot into this mansion."

-x-

Much later that day, after the sun had set and a lively dinner was over and done with, the students set up an impromptu dance floor by the poolside. Charles stopped his wheelchair just shy of the porch's edge, watching the scene with contentment. Ororo had been pleasantly surprised, and took to the festivities with an open happiness not often seen on her.

Currently, the eldest of his X-Women was being passed from man to man on the impromptu dance floor. Scott started it, talking her into an easy swing-step that surprised everyone except Ororo herself. Soon, Hank cut in to sweep her away into a graceful waltz that, at some prodding from Kitty, Piotr went to ask if he might cut in. Ororo was only happy to provide her Little Brother with a dance, until Kurt appeared to twirl her around the floor amidst her startled laughter.

It warmed his heart, seeing his X-Men this way. They didn't lead normal or safe lives at all, but to see them come together as a family like this never failed to make him happy.

Logan came to stand by him just as Remy was approaching the weather witch from the DJ booth that Ray and Roberto were manning. The music switched to an upbeat salsa, and Ororo rolled her eyes a little.

"Quite an interesting evening it's turned out to be hasn't it, old friend?" He said, steepling his fingers and leaning his elbows onto the arms of his chair. He didn't have to look up to know that Logan was now frowning at how Gambit seemed to be successfully coercing his padnat to salsa with him.

"Could call it that, yeah." He took a swig of his drink (beer filched from his private stash, since all the kids had served for the party was soda for themselves and prissy white wine for the adults; they knew Storm wouldn't approve of anything more).

Out of habit, his gaze did a cursory sweep of the area. The dance floor was quickly getting livelier, what with Tabby slyly tugging on an unassuming Piotr to teach him how to salsa. This prompted Kitty to grab the nearest boy (a clueless Bobby) so she could do the same, never mind that she was too busy glancing at Piotr and subtly frowning at Tabby to notice Bobby's growing horror. Jubilee waved merrily at him from the edge of the dance floor.

"You could simply ask for a dance, you know." Charles said, chuckling a little at the resulting scowl.

"Not exactly the dancin' type, Chuck." And anyway, more and more of the kids were heading into the floor by now. Logan could see that it wouldn't be long before it would start getting crowded… He stood a little straighter, watching Storm carefully.

"She'll be fine." assured Charles. Ororo had indeed tensed for a few moments, when the students started filling the space around and about her, but relaxed not seconds later. It was a different feeling, to be surrounded on all sides by people she loved.

Charles smiled.

-x-

They found themselves heading up to the teachers' wing at the same time.

"So," she said, smiling as they took the carpeted stairs up, "I'm told that you helped with the cake."

He slanted a smirk in her direction. "Only 'cause I wanted ta lick the bowl after the fact." He grinned at the face she struggled not to pull. "Nah, I'm just kiddin' ya. Hank blackmailed me."

"He did not!"

"Did so." He groused, rolling his eyes. "That so hard to believe?"

"Henry would never stoop to that level." At the glare she got, she amended: "Well, not often, I suppose. But the cake was delicious, Logan, and I was made aware that I had you to thank for that, as well."

"Yeah, well… yeah." He shrugged. "But the kids did most of it. If you should be thanking anyone…"

She smiled fondly. "I was surprised. I didn't think to ever expect something like this from them."

"Way you've been mothering them, I'd think it were way overdue."

"Funny," she murmured. "Vi said something similar to me, earlier."

He arched an eyebrow her way when she started shaking her head, smiling to herself.

"It's nothing, really. She made mention of how it must be like practice for the real thing, looking after everyone here at home."

For a split second, Logan imagined her with a tiny version of herself, maybe a daughter with her mother's hair, skin the color of coffee and eyes the color of the sky. Way he figured, it'd be a crime against nature if Storm never got the chance to be a real mother.

"... Logan?"

He blinked, realized too late that they'd made it to her door. She was looking at him curiously, a small smile playing at her lips. He hated when she did that, like she won a private bet with herself when he did something predictable (which he wasn't, damn it.)

"Thank you," she was saying, still smiling. "For staying to help, I mean. I know you didn't have to."

And before he could say anything else, she'd disappeared into her room, leaving him alone in the hallway.

... You know, that would've been the perfect time to kiss her good night-

He groaned, giving Jean a savage mental push out of his mind.

He went to bed, knowing his dreams would be peppered with images of kids that had Ororo's hair and eyes.

"So tell me again why we're even botherin' to throw a telepath a surprise party?"

Rogue had one hand on her hip, weight shifted to rest on one leg. Her other hand held onto one end of a long streamer.

Jean barely concealed a sigh and was about to answer when, to her surprise, Scott beat her to it.

"Haven't we been over this, Rogue?"

"Only like a zillion times," one Jaime piped up from the other end of Rogue's streamer.

"Maybe she's, y'know, slow…" another stage-whispered to a third from across the patio that led to the poolside. They both snickered.

"Or maybe you're a brat," Rogue said, shooting them two dupes a glare that shut them up at once.

"I'm just sayin'," she continued, when it became apparent that Jaime (all three of him) had learned his lesson, "What's the use of throwin' the Professor a party when he obviously already knows we're goin' to?"

"Give the Professor some credit, Rogue," Jean said as she helped Scott spread a burgundy table runner across a folding table. "He's the greatest telepath the world has ever seen; part of that is knowing how to block out thoughts. It's not like he's reading minds twenty-four seven."

"Besides," Scott added, "We kill two birds with one stone this way. We let the Professor know how much he's done for us and at the same time, we've got ourselves a great opportunity to practice-"

"-to practice keeping our mental shields up," Rogue finished for him, rolling her eyes at the nearest Jaime, who had mouthed the words along with them. "We know, Scott."

Hank chuckled from where he was listening on a second floor window, a brisk breeze carrying the conversation up to his sensitive hearing. Trust Scott to turn something like a party into an impromptu training session.

He saw Jean glance up briefly, and ducked back into his room; he wasn't technically supposed to be here. As far as the kids knew, he was cooped up in his lab, working on some research or the other. Sam and Amara were supposed to be discreetly keeping watch and making sure he stayed sub-level, but his stash of Twinkies ran out. What's a big, furry Beast to do without brain food?

Sneaking past the two was a little too easy; they were in that stage of relationship where they were still easily distracted by the other's mere presence. He could have just as easily informed them where he was going, but that would mean letting them know he knew about the surprise the students were planning.

And of course he knew, how could anyone miss it? It was one thing surprising Ororo. This time, they were trying to keep three people in the dark - two of which had enhanced senses and the third, the most gifted telepath known to man.

With all the effort they were going through for them, Hank just didn't have the heart to tell them that they all already knew what was going on.

Oh, don't say that, came Jean's sudden, mental sigh. I mean, I half-expected it myself. But after Storm's party last month, Scott was really hoping to surprise you all, and especially the Professor.

Hank smiled apologetically, knowing that Jean could feel his sympathy even if she couldn't see him.

Worry not, Ms. Grey, he thought back to her as he retrieved a box of back-up Twinkies from his bedside table, Charles has already given Logan and myself explicit instructions to act out our most convincing surprise.

-x-

"... Bobby, if you would?"

Ororo took a half-step back, giving the younger mutant room to stretch out a hand over an empty punch bowl. Ice in perfectly shaped cubes clinked into the glass, stopping when the bowl was about a third of the way full.

"That enough, Ms. Munroe?"

"It's perfect; thank you, child." She smiled at him briefly, before she stretched out a hand of her own. Her eyes glazed over white as the air around the bowl dropped several degrees. In moments, the bowl was covered in a layer of frost.

Bobby fist-pumped the air when she finished. "Yeah! Go Team Chill!"

She let out a surprised chuckle. "Team Chill?"

"Only the coolest people get to be on it," he said, grinning like the teenage boy that he was. "Get it? Since, you know, we're both so –"

A loud groan cut through the air before the terrible joke could finish. "Will you stop flirting with Ms. Munroe and get your ass over here, Drake?" Ray's voice came from the island counter. He rolled his eyes and pointed at Bobby with the knife he'd been using. "Make yourself useful for once, you know?"

Bobby flushed a pale pink. "Wha – I don't – I wasn't – I'll show you useful…!"

Ororo shook her head at their antics, amused when the two began no-powers-allowed wrestling across the kitchen and eventually out the door. She picked up the knife that Ray thankfully had the presence of mind to carefully set aside before Bobby lunged for him, and walked over to the counter where Laura was studiously ignoring their noise.

"And how are we doing over here?" she asked gently. Laura and Ray had been given the same task, slicing several oranges and limes into neat discs. Where Laura's orange slices were thin and evenly cut with alarming precision, Ray's lime wedges were in haphazard sizes. It wasn't for lack of trying, though, as Storm could see he'd tried his best to keep them uniform – no easy feat, when you're working alongside X-23.

Laura used her own knife to slide a pile of orange slices into a neat stack and set to work on cutting up some of the stockier lime wedges into somewhat slimmer slices, her motions swift and no-nonsense.

"Ray was distracted. His wedges are disappointing."

Ororo hid a smile. Laura was as blunt as her gene-father. "He and Bobby were eager to help in here, but perhaps I should have asked him to help Scott and the others set up the tables outside."

Laura shrugged and merely set back to work. Knife already in hand, Ororo decided to join her. The two were working in comfortable silence, the sound of knives hitting chopping board approaching a soothing rhythm when Laura paused.

"This party," she began, knife poised over an orange. "It's like the one arranged for you about a month ago."

It was a statement, but Ororo heard the tentative question mark behind it. She nodded, smiling. "A little, yes. The difference being, of course, that this is in celebration of Father's Day."

"Father's Day," she repeated. "Kitty explained it, and Mother's Day to me before." She didn't trail off, but Ororo could see her sharpening focus on the fruit before her, as if it contained the answers to all her questions.

"I'm sure she did. But Laura, you know that you are more than welcome to approach me if you have anything more to ask."

Laura half-turned to her then, head tilted in question. "Kitty said they were days for us to show mothers and fathers how valued and important they are." She spoke slowly, peering at Ororo closely as if determining if what she was saying was correct. Ororo nodded for her to continue.

Laura turned back to her orange, frowning a little. "If it is so important, why is it only done once a year? Shouldn't it be more often than that?"

"Oh, Laura," Ororo set the knife down and faced the the younger girl. "In an ideal world, yes. We should be taking every moment of every day to tell our parents how much they mean to us. But the reality is that we are so caught up with our own lives, we forget to do precisely that. Not because we choose to, mind, and not out of malice, either."

"But perhaps that is the reason that these particular days exist. We do not wish to take our mothers and fathers for granted; far from it. And if the solution is to take a day and dedicate it to celebrating the gift of having someone to take care of and look out for you, then so be it," Ororo's voice turned wistful. "These days bring us cause to come together as a family and family... Family is important, after all."

Somewhere along Ororo's spiel, Laura had turned to give the older woman her full attention. She remained poker-faced throughout it all, but at the last portion, she looked away.

(--I'm a victim, just like you. I may be the closest thing you've got to a family.--)

Ororo could see the gears turning in her mind and felt her heart warm. When it became apparent that she had nothing more to say, she turned back to the forgotten citrus fruits on the counter.

Still, she couldn't help but feel like giving Laura a hint or two. "You know, I've heard tell that Logan appreciates a good steak and potatoes dinner with his beer... Perhaps, if you wanted help..."

Laura glanced up to give her a curious (suspicious?) stare. "You would know, wouldn't you? What with yours and his relationship. Whatever that is."

Laura's casual, no-nonsense words brought a dull, surprised flush to Storm's cheeks. The insinuation was nothing new; Ororo was accustomed to light teasing from the rest of the students on a week-to-week basis by now, after all. She was even aware of the mansion-wide betting pool started a month ago for when she and the Wolverine would "get their damn act together already." ("Like, you're totally the new Scott and Jean, Ororo!")

But hearing it from Laura – Logan's own gene daughter – seemed to put things in a new perspective.

She blinked once, twice to regain her composure.

"I – well, that is, Logan and I…"

"- And 'ere's half a dozen bottles of Merlot as ordered, chère," came Gambit's voice from just outside the kitchen. The Cajun had taken that moment to saunter in, arms full of red wine, with Tabitha and Piotr not far behind. The latter was holding onto bottles of club soda and obligingly listening to Tabby chatter away about how her grandmother's sangria mix always had a generous helping of tequila for an extra kick.

But Laura was still looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Ororo managed a wry smile. "... It's complicated, my dear."

Laura shrugged. "Doesn't have to be," And with that, she went back to her oranges.

Storm found that she had nothing to answer to that, either, and so turned to receive the bottles of wine from Remy. As he passed them over, he murmured to her under his breath: "Jus' remember, Stormy – Remy has ten dollars on you an' M'sieur Claws gettin' it on before the week is over, eh?"

-x-

The sun was high in the sky as Logan made his way across the gardens behind the Xavier Institute. Every step brought him further and further away from the steady noise and chatter of teenagers busily preparing what was supposed to be a surprise afternoon mixer in honor of the day. He rolled his eyes, shook his head. You'd think they'd be quieter, if they wanted it to be a surprise.

Turning a corner and walking past a row of geraniums brought the gazebo into view. Charles sat facing the sea, fingers calmly steepled together as he watched the waves crash into the cliffside. Unsurprisingly, he turned to face the approaching Logan even before the latter could get a hello in.

Wolverine raised both his hands in greeting anyway - a bottle of what he recognized as scotch from the minibar in his study in one hand, and two glasses in the other. Charles shook his head with a wry smile.

"Isn't it rather early for a drink, old friend?"

"Ain't never too early, Chuck," He grinned as he stepped into the gazebo. "'Sides, something tells me you could use one of these."

"And just how long have you been a telepath, Logan?"

He gave the Professor a dry look. "I don't haveta be a mindreader to tell when you need t'get away from the kids for a few... 'Course this's the first time I found you all the way out here. Usually you're at the study, or tinkering at Cerebro."

"I'm merely keeping out of their way," Charles shrugged. "They're quite busy back there, and I would hate to ruin all their effort by spoiling the surprise..."

Logan didn't answer, choosing instead to fix him with a look that quite clearly said You're gonna have try harder than that, Chuck.

He sighed. It would be a lie if he didn't admit to himself that Logan's ability to sniff out lies bothered him on some level.

"... And it was getting rather loud in the house."

Logan snorted as he handed over a glass and poured exactly two fingers of scotch in. "Tell me about it. And they still expect us to be surprised with all the racket they've been making?"

Charles chuckled. He took a careful sip of his drink before speaking up next. "I imagine it does seem rather loud for you and Henry, Logan. But that's not what I meant."

"Yeah?" Logan poured out a drink for himself, Charles decided not to comment on how much fuller his glass was.

"Yes. I'm sure you're aware of Jean and Scott encouraging their friends to build up their mental shields..." At this, Charles took another sip. "It seems they've instead taken that to mean loudly broadcasting thoughts to mask the plans pertaining to party."

Logan blinked.

"It's a trick they've learned to use when they decide to keep secrets from me, I'm afraid." He explained, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "They've used it once or twice now, to sneak in or out of the mansion after hours, if you must know."

"... Not gonna lie, Chuck, I am this close to caging those damn kids," He echoed Charles' sigh. "So what, now they're doin' it all at once, is that it?"

"I'm afraid so." Another sip of whiskey. "One can only stand the musings of a teenage mind for so long, Logan. Even out here, I am still getting snatches of Jubilee's thoughts; there is no end to that girl's carefully mapped out shopping routes for this summer's mallwide sales..." Another weary sigh. "Not to mention the endless international football statistics care of Kurt and Roberto, or Danielle and Rahne's myriad of opposing theories on Lost..."

Logan winced in spite of himself. And he thought he had it bad. They'd all heard the two girls arguing surprisingly vehemently about the stupid show before. It wasn't pretty, and he could only imagine what that would be like in their heads.

Charles downed the last of his scotch and handed the glass back. He shook his head when Logan moved to pour another shot, thinking of Ororo's sangria. He'd had enough for now. But Wolverine was right; the alcohol did seem to help calm his mind a little, just enough to remember one last tidbit that may interest his friend.

He smiled slyly. "By the by, it seems that young Laura has finally placed her bet in the pool regarding yourself and Ororo," Unsurprisingly, Logan fought not to choke on his drink. "It seems she thinks that either one of you would make a move by the end of the night. I wonder why that is...?"

Charles found himself chuckling heartily at the sight of Wolverine, blinking rapidly as the scotch struggled to go down the right way, the barest hint of pink appearing on his rugged cheeks.

- Charles?

"Speak of the devil, Ororo," Charles had answered aloud, smiling, one hand rising to his temple. He ignored the way Logan glared fiercely at him. "How are things in mansion coming along?"

There was a fond smile in her voice. We are just about finished here. You may want to make yourself a little easier to find, some of the students already suspect that you know...

She paused, and he could sense her question even before she put the words together. He hid another smile in anticipation.

Have you seen Logan, by any chance?

He would blame it on the scotch later, but he thought unbidden of his previous intent to put a bid of his own in the famous betting pool. (He'd been immediately shot down by his own students who argued that betting against a telepath of his caliber was grossly unfair, and completely pointless.)

Ororo was aghast. Charles...!

With me, Ororo. He is with me, He chuckled at her near-palpable shock and reassured her that Logan was not privy to their conversation so far. But aloud (for Logan's sake), he said: "We won't be but a moment. And do not worry about Henry, I'll take care of informing him myself."

I ... All right, then. Thank you. I... shall see you both soon.

He turned to speak to Logan then, still inwardly smiling at Ororo's response. She was calm and cool-headed so often that seeing her unsure was always rather charming.

But Logan was already on his way back, muttering about being the only sane one left in the mansion ("- other than 'Ro, and not 'cause of any bias damn it!")

Charles shook his head, grinning as he reached out for Hank's thoughts.

Alas, came his mental reply, later. I should have bet on tonight as well! It seems that Laura will find herself a rich young woman on the morrow!

-x-

endnote: Laura & Remy ended up splitting the winnings. How? Stay tuned for a follow-up oneshot set between this chapter and the next one to find out.