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Violence and blood and submersion tanks filled his thoughts and Wolverine was instantly awake. Sweating heavily, he retracted his claws and sat up. Someone didn’t pray hard enough. His sheets were shredded and his wounds were already healed. Standing, Logan balled the bloody remains and tossed them out. His tanned skin was slick with sweat and blood and a shower became his first priority. The hot water would do him some good while he calmed the beast back.

It was still there. Glimpses of a past he only knew only existed in government documents and the edge of his consciousness. Some pieces fit, like the submersion tanks. That was how he got his six best friends according to top secret files. After that he wasn’t sure. He read they planted some of his memories but they all felt so real. The gnawing sensation began and the beast revolted. He wanted to hit something. Whatever he did in his past life-- and he considered it a past life-- could never be atoned for, but someone figured torturing was a good place to start.

The water scorched his skin, but he stayed there. The sting was something useful in focusing if that was what he wanted. Really, if Wolverine ever managed to find the littlest proof he wasn’t born in a lab, he’d be different. He hoped he had a happy family, a good life, something to fall back on, but he sincerely doubted it. It was the way things worked for him. Nothing good stuck, and it was pointless hoping otherwise. Maybe that’s why he never stuck around at the mansion for long. Maybe he was testing how long this place would stick around, how many times he could come back before the closed the doors on him. It was all temporary. He shut off the water.

The digital clock blinked a red 6:47. He padded to the closet and checked to see if he had any spare sheets. He was out and his pillows had to be replaced. Again. It was damn good thing Charles made good money, Logan was an expensive houseguest. He had a couple minutes to spare before he met with...

Wait.

His conscious mind finally caught up with an unconscious thought. Someone didn’t pray hard enough. His thought wasn’t meant to be disparaging and yet it was. He was angry at her for something out of her control and he felt guilty for it. It wasn’t right and damn sure unfair. Poor Ro wasn’t a telepath, she had no clue he had a nightmare. Even when you don’t wake up screaming. Or maybe she had. He rubbed his cheek and found the mindless action soothing. He had to get dressed.

Already in the kitchen and already dressed, she wasn’t in her signature skirt. She’d opted for a pair of skinny jeans and a taupe camisole that complimented her skin. Once again, her glorious hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Logan was again reminded about her body. The tight denim lifted the apple ass he wanted to bite and the tight shirt accentuated her wasp waist, flat belly, and ample 36C cup breasts. Logan knew cup size by sight. She bent and Logan groaned. It wasn’t right for a woman to have a body like that, simple wear became sexy in a heartbeat.

Whoops. Ororo snapped up and placed a hand over her heart. Tied to her wrist was a leather bracelet with cubes spelling STORM. He immediately recognized it as Jimmy’s bracelet. “You’re very quiet.”

He flashed her a wry smile. “Not always, darlin’,” he winked. “Makin’ breakfast I see?” Eggs, cheese, tomatoes, peppers, onions, spinach, various fruits, and tortilla wraps littered the counters.

She silently nodded. “The kids’ food doesn’t make itself, although it does for vegetarians,” she said, sticking her straight nose proudly in the air. “Today is breakfast wraps and fruit smoothies. If you could help, I’d really appreciate it.” She started the oven and he washed his hands. “What do you want to do?”

He picked a knife and smirked. “I’ll cut the stuff up so you can scramble and blend.”

They worked in tandem, maneuvering around each and never bumping, the silence companionable. Occasional looks were made, Ororo checking on the food and Logan checking her ass out in attempts to assure himself she wasn’t wearing any of those fake butt pads. And to just look. She had a fantastic ass. He nudged her out of the way to add the diced contents. She handed him the spatula and took over the blender. He scrambled expertly, then turned on the radio to a local oldies station. She didn’t complain so he didn’t change it. He was thankful, June Carter’s voice was crooning a sweet beat and Johnny’s matched it.

Logan hummed most of the lines without forgetting his task. The cheese was added and he began tossing in onions and tomatoes. Ororo left the kitchen briefly, then returned with vanilla extract. The blender went off without ruining his enjoyment of the song. She finished and Logan started wrapping the eggs in the tortilla wraps. He turned to catch her tapping her foot in time as the song ended, sucking some accidentally spilt smoothie off her thumb. His heart did a funny tug at how cute the sight was. He didn’t have enough time to process the emotion. Kitty fell through the ceiling and Lorna trudged down the stairs, her green hair messy. Breakfast rush started.


Breakfast was unremarkable... to Logan. To everyone else it was weird. Firstly, he cooked their food! And he ate with them, something he’d done all of six times. He wasn’t all smiles but he didn’t bite anybody’s head off. He kept quiet for the most part, but whenever Storm spoke, he grunted. When she smiled at him for “communicating,” his scowl softened and he’d wink. It was weird as hell, but nobody commented... Out loud. Charles scolded several students for using their telepathy to gossip.

“Storm,” someone started. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Logan waited for the question. Everyone wanted her every minute of every day. It was amazing she never lost her patience. “Are you going to the store today?” Especially when they took a roundabout way of asking for things.

“I am, yes.”

“Can I go? I need to get something... Personal.” Her face reddened. Oh.

Storm sweetly smiled. “I can get it for you specially. You know, if you’d prefer to stay in and relax.” She handled that like a pro. The girl nodded, relief on her face. “Speaking of which, if there’s anything any of you want, you have a limit of one thing. Otherwise, make a list of things you need. I’ll expect them in twenty minutes. And before you ask, I will not make a pit stop at the mall for anything. Jubilee.”

Logan chuckled as Jubilee lowered her hand and slumped back in her seat.

“Additionally, I’ve made a list of chores that I expect to be done before or by the time I get back. Rest assured, I will know, so don’t try and hide it. The laundry schedule is posted and has been rectified; Kurt, you’re first today.” Ororo wiped the corner of her mouth and continued. “I should be back by twelve, and if everything is all done, I don’t see why we can’t have a powers-allowed football game.” Cheers and excited murmurs erupted. “Consider it danger room practice. And don’t thank me, thank Charles. I still think we should be perfecting the new programs Logan made. And if your chores aren’t done, we will.”

“Oh, Professor, you’re the best!”

“Thanks, Professor!”

“I’m gonna win!”

Logan couldn’t help his tiny smile. Charles remained composed, but Logan could tell the kids were making him happy. Hell, they were doing the same for Logan and he wasn’t sure he was included in any of the work. I’ll show you. His eyes darted to Ororo who was smiling back at him. Her innate ability to tell when he was looking at her was startling.

He helped her clean up. “Do I have a list of chores?” he asked once the last cup was put away.

She dried her hands and blew a wind to dry his. “Yes, actually, you’ll be coming with me to shop. Some things are heavy to carry and I could use some muscle. Colossus usually comes, but today he’s got chores. Hank had to return to DC. Once we get back, you’ll clean your room, wash your clothes, help me referee the football game, prepare lunch, keep the younger kids from drowning in the pool, start a barbecue dinner, and put the kids to bed.” With each task she mention a finger was ticked off. Before he could refuse, Ororo put her hands on her curvy hips and wryly smiled. “If you’re going to be here, I might as well use you.”

They stood in a staring match for a beat, then Logan dropped his shoulders. “I’ll get my boots. And as fer the barbecue, I cook the shit my way. You don’t say a damn thing about it. Got it?” Ororo smiled and skipped to him, raised herself up to him using his shoulder as leverage, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, thanking him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ya love me now, but ya won’t when we watch ‘em play football. I wanna see blood.” He followed her to the stairs.

She stopped halfway up and faced him. “There will be no blood, Wolverine. Please remember it’s a kids football game, key word being kids.” She turned and continued on up, Logan tailing her.

“Where ya headed now, Storm?” picking up on her use of field names.

“My room. I need to brush my teeth and make my bed.”

Logan faltered. “Oh.”

“Hm,” she murmured, her trek continuous. “You’re not doing the same?”

“I’m out of sheets and pillows. Already brushed.”

Ororo furrowed her brow and reached her attic stairs. Considering his words, she continued on accepting the fact that he wasn’t about to leave her alone. That was fine even if a little strange. This would be his first time up. Something told her it wouldn’t be his last by a long shot.

Wolverine sniffed. If his eyes weren’t as enhanced as they were, he wouldn’t have been able to tell he was inside. It smelled like aftermath of a spring shower in an exotic garden. Much like his actions in the greenhouse, he looked around, taking in the comfortable surroundings. Storm’s room was huge, more like a loft, with a personal terrace. Wandering around, he mapped her room as she brushed her teeth.

It was bigger than his room, taking up the entire floor. Her style was modern without being impersonal. Her white couch and separate white seats were centered around a flatscreen plasma settled in a cherrywood bookcase and glass coffee table. Tossed over the couch was an afghan and a worn book, much like the books in the bookcase. In the corner was a dedicated office space with a chair opposite the desk. Piles of paper and a laptop littered the surface. He noticed the closet against the wall and figured it was a walk in, even if there were a couple dressers strategically placed. He looked up. Along with the windows from the terrace, there was a skylight spanning the ceiling. Logan wondered what it would be like to look up and see the moon, the stars, and maybe a storm whilst laying in her comfy king sized bed. Pristine, relaxed, and with potted flowers all over, Ororo’s room was her.

She returned from the bathroom and nodded. “Would you mind helping me?” she asked taking one side of the rumpled blue sheet and pulling. “How are you “out of pillows,” Logan?”

The pulled the fluffy duvet and laid it flat. Once again, they worked in tandem, and her bed was quickly made. She dropped down and began putting on a comfortable pair of canvas sneakers. “I had a flashback.” Ororo grabbed a casual tote. There was no further discussion.

An accepting nod was offered. “I’ll clean the feathers. It should give you ample time to find a shirt to wear that isn’t a wife beater.” They headed down to his room, kids handing Storm lists on the way down. She collected their lists and placed them within the tote. They got to his room and she tsked at the smell of smoke and the beer cans and bottles littering the floor. “My, my Logan. The mess doesn’t bother you? I’ll clean the feathers, but you need to shape up,” she scolded.

He smiled sheepishly, actually ashamed of his room’s mess. He gathered some of the bottles and placed them on the small wooden table. By that time, she’d formed a small whirlwind and guided it to the waste bin in his bathroom. She turned and opened his closet, pulling out a red checkered flannel. “This should do,” she murmured. Closing his closet door and tossing it to him, she waited for him to button it. “Ready to shop?”


As it turned out, shopping for growing kids took a lot more energy than he expected. Logan didn’t even want to think about the money; the amount of coupons she’d used were staggering. Ice cream, eggs, meat, cheese, bread, tampons, lotion, vegetables, shampoo, toothpaste, fruits, cereal, coffee, tea, Kleenex, cough drops, and individual shit all racked up. It took all of two hours to gather everything and about fifteen minutes to ring it all up. But Logan got his sheets and pillows, Polaris got her nail polish, Artie got his asthma medicine-- the reason why he couldn’t smoke!--and Samantha got her personal tin of chocolates. He felt exhausted and he still had shit to do when he got back. His respect for Storm grew if she did this every month.

When he got back, he had to hurry and clean his room. She helped but refused to do his laundry adamantly. Logan was just joking... Kind of. Folding was a pain in the ass. She left to do whatever, ordering him to get his butt in the yard the second he was done. And he did because she was scary when she was bossy. Once out there, she was waiting, talking to a few younger kids who didn’t want to play. Her hair was down. Logan liked that. She turned and waved.

The next word stumbled from his mouth without thinking. “You outta yer goddamn mind looking like that?” Logan cleared his throat. “Flamin’ hell. Where’s yer clothes, Storm?” he growled. It wasn’t right for her to be standing around with her tits and ass out like that.

Big blue eyes rolled heavenward. “It’s a bikini. I’m swimming with the younger kids while you play football with the older kids. Don’t let them kill each other and do not curse. Your skeleton is metal,” she warned, turning her back on him. “In an hour or so I’ll get you for lunch.”

He watched her go. She was in a white bikini that did something wonderful to her already amazing breasts. The bottom-- ahem-- peeked the lower half of her ass as she walked on. His jeans became tighter and his fingers itched to spank the supple mocha flesh. To punish her, so she’d know better than to walk around looking like that. And because the Wolverine found himself crazed with the idea of touching that apple bottom. Goddamn! Jean couldn’t even fill out a bikini like that, and her body was amazing. Logan predicted some very cold showers in his future. Logan heard a low whistle. It wasn’t his own.

He turned to find a couple teenaged boy watching her walk by, mouths open. The stench of male arousal filled the air. “I told you she was hotter,” whispered a kid named Dean.

“Really. I don’t know what he sees in Mrs. Summers when she’s walking around stacked like that!”

“You think she’ll let me rub some lotion on her?” That got a couple chuckles. “What?”

“You have no idea what I’d give to be Mr. Munroe. I’d wreck that chick--”

“Hey!” he barked. He’d had enough. How dare they look at Storm like a piece of meat? He stalked towards them, shoving them from the sight he hated to tear his eyes from. “I catch you saying anything disrespectful about Storm again, you’ll answer to me. And I promise you, what you’re thinking will be merciful compared ta what I’ll really do.” A few kids gulped and scampered away. With a last cursory glance to Ororo who’d been helping a kid no bigger than six years of age swim, he turned to the game.

It was fun. Everyone used their unique ability to their team’s advantage and Logan found that it was a good exercise as opposed to danger room runs. The kids had to work as a group while thinking individually. The exposure to another’s power while exercising ones own helped reflexes and reaction time; nobody wanted to get hit by a firework or frozen in ice. A few times he’d call a foul, but for the most part it was an easy game. When it neared lunch time, some wandered to the pool, mostly girls. The guys stayed back to play rougher, inviting Logan in. It was really on from there.

But occasionally, he’d cast a glance at a bikini clad Storm. It wasn’t right for someone with her body to be a teacher; she wore that bikini like it was a second skin. He felt protective and wanted more than anything to knock those dumb assed boys on the side of their heads for talking about her like that. Stacked?-- for shame. Her honor was in his adamantium hands.

When he was waved over for lunch, he hurried over. They were making sandwiches. After the brat pack got their food, she settled beside Logan and Charles, biting into her peanut butter and banana sandwich. It was to Logan’s relief that she put on some sort of wrap even if it was a little see through; those boys needed to put their tongues back in their heads to chew.

When night fell, some of the kids traveled inside to watch a movie or play in the game and others stayed outside to fly and play sports. As promised, when he started cooking she didn’t say a damn thing. Like breakfast and lunch, he settled beside her, totally oblivious to the stares he was getting. He would have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact that he kept making fun of the fact that Ororo wasn’t eating true barbecue. Tofu would never taste the same as bloody meat.

Those cattish eyes he was starting to love rolled, an action Logan was becoming fond of. She bit into her tofu dog, completely ignoring his tirade. “...And ya ain’t getting all the necessary protein. It’s why yer so skinny.”

Ororo licked stray mustard sauce. “I am not skinny, as you well know, I’m fit. And I do get necessary protein. All those calories in your beloved meat are not in mine and yet I get twice as much protein.”

“It ain’t appetizing.”

She swallowed the last of her “hot dog” smothered in mustard. “It is.” Ororo began digging into her baked beans. “Thank you for cooking.”

A grunt was his response. “Yer welcome, but we’ll be opening this line of conversation later.”

“Scott’s calling!”

Ororo stiffened faster than Logan. It took him a second, but she could feel him tensing and growing silent. Harry’s could expect their loyal patron. Oh, well. At least his reaction time wasn’t as immediate. Ororo took the call inside. “Yes, Scott?”

“Roro!” greeted Scott with his usual warmth. “How are things?”

“Good, but I imagine they can’t be as good as Hawaii. What’s the weather like down there?” she joked.

“Perfect. Like everything else. But I called for you! The last few times Jean called I missed talking to you,” Scott pouted. “I miss my sister.”

“I miss my brother,” she admitted. “But things are good. No fires.”

“You sure? Hank told me you got into it with Wolverine. Am I gonna have to fly up to Canada and kick his ass?” he asked jokingly, but Ororo could tell the underlying seriousness. Scott was super protective of Ororo; she was his baby sister in every way that counted.

She glanced around then turned back to the phone. “Save your money because he’s here in the mansion. And you heard correctly, we did get into it. But I handled it, Scott. No need to worry.” The bruises were healing nicely. “He’s actually been helpful.”

“Helpful? Wolverine? Hey, Jean, get this! Logan is at the house and not being a tool,” he shouted. Ororo heard water turning off and a soft voice in the background. “Jean wants to talk to you. I love you, Roro. Be safe, okay? Don’t let anyone walk over you. You’re too nice sometimes.” Logan’s name went unsaid. “I’m going to put Jean on now.”

“Bye, Scott. It was great to hear from you again. Love you, too.” The phone was passed a soft voice came on the line. “Jean?”

“Hey, Ororo! What’s this I hear about Logan helping?”

Ororo grinned and twirled a strand a her white hair. “He’s been helpful.” Ororo hesitated. “He’s been totally different from what I expected.”

Jean laughed. “I understand. He’ll live, not to sound harsh, but it’s true. I’m Mrs. Scott Summers!” she squealed. In the back Scott whooped. “Oh, Ororo, it’s so weird. I’m still getting used to it all. Hawaii, I mean,” she joked. Ororo chuckled obligingly, falling silent.

“I hear it’s pretty great.” Ororo had no clue whether she was talking about Hawaii or being married.

Sensing Ororo’s change, Jean hurried the conversation. “I’ve gotta go. We’re going to a hula class. I’m definitely getting Scott in one of those skirts. Take care of the kids and Logan for me. But take care of yourself especially. Scott wasn’t lying when he said you were too nice. Okay, my Windrider? Promise to tell them I said hello?”

“I promise,” Ororo concluded. “G’bye.”

“Bye.”

Ororo placed the phone on the hook and stood there watching it. That little wound opened back up, making her feel heavy. She couldn’t stay that way for long. Standing behind her, Logan cleared his throat and stuck his hands in his pockets, legs crossed leaning against the door. She turned, a weak smile on his face. “Jean says hello.” He gave a terse nod. He kept looking, his face void of emotions. She felt nervous for some reason. Like she’d been caught.

“You wanna go for a drink?”


An amber shot was sloshed back. The bar was nothing like Ororo expected. She expected a total dive, instead it was just an average bar. The roughnecks were balanced by the number of flirty college students and typical, white collar guys. They didn’t serve wine and Ororo didn’t want a girly drink. Those martinis were traps anyways. She opted for whiskey much to Logan’s chagrin. They sat in a backed booth, excluded from the other patrons. His head was hung slightly low, his hands around his second bottle of Molson. They’d been quiet and introspective, clashing with the noisy interior of the bar.

“I still think about running. Ta Canada. But yer right, it won’t fix anything. She’ll still be married and I’ll still be alone,” he said softly, almost to himself. There. It was out. Now she could say something that would fix him. She’d offer some sage words and he’d pull himself up by his bootstraps using it.

“I assumed.” Ororo took another sip. “Yes, she’ll still be married. Forever if she’s lucky.” Logan snorted. “She’s happy, Logan. You should be happy for her.”

He waved his hand. “I am, Ro. I am. She deserves happiness with how sweet she is. Just... What about me? Forget her, what about my happiness?” he pleaded. “Huh?”

“Did you think she’d bring your happiness?” Ororo asked, mildly concerned.

His broad shoulders lifted then drooped. “Maybe. I don’t fucking know--”

“Course you do,” she promptly said. “Did you think she’d bring your happiness?” she repeated.

Logan bit his inner cheek. “Yeah. She was the first person to look at me like I was actually there. I was alone for so long, and she smiled at me. She showed me basic human kindness and I loved her for it. I still do, but my feelings will never be reciprocated. She may be attracted to me, but she’ll never want me. Never love me.” Logan sipped his beer, then motioned for another. “The funny thing is is that I’ve known this a lot longer than you think.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” He took the last sip and placed the beer back on the table. “Way back at Alkali Lake, we camped in the jet. I kissed her and she set me straight. She said, “you flirt with the bad guy, but the marry the good guy.” Yep.” Logan nodded, feeling his ire rise. That was all he could feel for that. It stopped being depressing a long time ago. And he wasn’t angry at Jean, he needed to be set straight. The anger was at himself and how true it was. He wasn’t a good guy. Even if he worked for the X Geeks. “I know which one I am.”

“You’re wrong!” she demanded. She looked up at the waitress who picked up her whiskey and Logan’s bottle. “Oh, I’ll have what he’s having.” Logan raised a brow but remained silent. The conversation topic was set and he refused to stray from it. “You’re both wrong. You’re a good guy, Logan. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

His brows furrowed. “You really think that?” he challenged. “I’m a killer, a government weapon. Some days I’m mean and others I’m vicious. I’m an alcoholic--”

“Oh, stop your pity party. You can’t possibly believe all those things.” She took the cold beer and sipped it. “You’re hard externally. We may have only started our friendship, but I’ve seen you interact with the few you let in, and it’s wonderful. Rouge sees you as a father figure, Kitty relishes your companionship, and Jubilee is as addicted to you as you are your cigars. And you are not an alcoholic. I consider your drinking a... quirk.” Ororo took a longer swig.

Logan nearly smiled. Her words were fierce and completely honest. She didn’t lie to him about one thing and his crumbling ego gobbled it up. But he almost smiled. She dodged the bit about him being a killer and a government tool. “What about my past?”

“It’s just that, Logan. The past. Who you are now is everything. You’re holding onto this idea that you can never atone for something you had no control over--”

“You don’t know that--”

“Styker called you “property.” Anyone labeled as such doesn’t have a choice. I know you couldn’t have willingly killed.” Ororo held his gaze unflinchingly. “You confuse me, Logan. You could do anything with your abilities and you choose to do good, but you don’t even bother to acknowledge it. You’re a remarkable man; you will find your happiness. Just give it time to find you,” she grinned. The tatters of his heart swelled and mended. If she kept complimenting him like that, he’d get an even bigger ego. “And as for marrying the good guy?” She rested her chin in her hand, her voice going soft. “Sometimes the good guy doesn’t pan out. Sometimes the good guy hurts you worse than the bad boy.”

Logan tipped his head, sensing her hurt and unwillingness to share more. It did something to him. He wanted to find the bastard who’d hurt her and rip his heart out. He wasn’t a murderer, but for Ro, he could be. He guzzled his beer then placed a twenty on the table. “C’m’on. Let’s get out of here. You need your rest to handle those munchkins in the morning.”





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