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DISCLAIMER: Everything recognizable belongs to Marvel.
It was the afternoon on a Saturday, and people were starting the countdown. Yeah, he was aware. There wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do to prove them otherwise, and staying was becoming irritating. He was surrounded by her memory, and soon enough, she’d come back from her honeymoon. Logan wanted to vomit at the thought of her and Scooter. That dick was probably pure vanilla in the sack. Logan knew his way around a woman.

He shuffled his feet in the yard, wandering to the lake. The forest was quickly becoming his haven, right after Harry’s and the cheap motel across the way. Maybe later he’d visit Harry’s, but for now, it was too early to start drinking at a bar, even for him. His stash of Molson would tide him over for now. The soft smell of rain filled his nostrils and he followed it.

A smile crossed his lips. Of course Ororo would be in her greenhouse. He had the danger room, she had the greenhouse. Huh. He’d never been inside the place. It wouldn’t kill him to just look, satisfy the quickly rising curiosity. Strolling inside, he looked around. This was different, he mused. Very unlike his expectations. It wasn’t flowery, more... Viney. The ground was covered in green ropes and brilliant petals. Ferns were rampant, and Logan raised a brow. What the hell? This was very unlike her. Or... Maybe it was? He knew so little about her.

She turned, then gasped. “Goddess, Logan! What’re you doing? What do you need?” she asked. Placing a hand to her chest, she calmed. “You mustn’t be so quiet!” Logan shrugged, not bothered by her annoyed actions. He walked around, taking in the odd plants. He touched one, lifting its leaf cautiously. She cleared her throat. “It is a Staghorn Fern, common to Africa. I believe they add to the atmosphere.”

Logan looked around, sticking his hands in his jean pockets. His eyes took in the lush greens, becoming more at peace with the environment. Yeah, they added to the environment; he approved. He touched several other plants, finding the white was meshing with purples and reds and yellows and blues. It was girly, but it wasn’t obnoxious. Matter of fact, it was kind of endearing. It was an insight he didn’t expect. “These?” he asked, touching a white flower.

“African Moons,” she said softly, removing her dirty gloves. “One of my favorites.” Logan made an appreciative noise. He recognized a few plants, but most he had absolutely no clue. They were pretty. Jean liked roses. Where were her roses? A sharp stab filled his chest and he heaved a sigh. “Something wrong?” she asked, her eyes whitening over. To the left of his head, a small raincloud formed, watering the nameless blue flowers.

He smirked. Apparently she found practical use of her powers, too. He used his claws to open bottles and cut boxes. He watched the water fall, admiring her control. He was maybe an inch away, but not a single drop touched him. There wasn’t even spray. “Nah, I just realized I’ve never seen your greenhouse.”

Ororo nodded. “Most have not. It’s... Special to me.” Logan suddenly felt like an intruder. He stepped back, ready to leave. “Don’t feel obligated to leave. Whenever someone comes to my greenhouse, it is because they need something.” Her eyes colored once more and she gave a soft smile. “How might I help you?”

Logan grunted, then shrugged. “ ‘M fine. Just about ta head to the lake.” Was that an invitation? No, just a statement of facts. He was headed to the lake, Ororo was in her greenhouse, and the weather was a warm eighty six degrees. It was sort of dry out, nothing she couldn’t fix though. He stepped away from the misty plants and strolled, still taking in the twisting green ropes. “Sorry ta have interrupted.”

Ororo raised a shoulder. “You’re not. I was just finishing up. I figured someone would need me soon enough. And I never stay long, if you hadn’t noticed. The kids always seem to find new ways to burn down the mansion.” She bent to dust her knees, removing the dirt accumulating on her worn jeans. She always wore these old things when she worked in her greenhouse.

Logan chuckled, amused. Boy, if that wasn’t true. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. They fought constantly trying to prove their power was the best. He was amazed he stuck around as long as he did; kids sucked. He had no desire to be a parent, but then again, that would mean he would have to find a broad to stick around. Girls married the good guys.

Ororo sensed his light mood darkening. She sighed, hating to see him so down. When she came to the greenhouse, she had full intentions of staying there for most of the day, well into the afternoon; it was one. Refusing to see him so troubled and bring down her light mood, Ororo thought fast. “Have you eaten?” He looked confused, but shook his head no, cautious. Shrugging, “You said you were headed to the lake. Would you mind if I joined you? I would enjoy a picnic lunch.”

Logan rubbed his head. “I guess not. I could eat. But I’m bringing beer.” Ororo dramatically rolled her eyes for his benefit. “What? It’s lunch,” he smirked.

She walked to him, placing a hand to his beefy shoulder. “Logan, I think you might be an alcoholic.”

His smirk grew. “So Marie tells me.” They walked back to the mansion, Ororo waving to several students. “Someone’s popular,” he ribbed.

“I can’t help that I’m well liked,” she simpered, tossing her silvery hair for added affect. She caught the smell of dirt and sweat, then shook her head, sticking her pink tongue out. “Ugh. I smell dreadful. Would you mind preparing lunch while I showered? I won’t be more than ten-- fifteen minutes.”

Logan rolled his shoulder. “Eh. Why not? And you don’t smell ‘dreadful,’ as you claim. You smell like you always do.” Damn, he slipped. He hadn't shared the tidbit of personal scents yet.

Ororo raised a brow. “I always smell like dirt and sweat?” she asked, her voice half self-conscious.

He cleared his throat, opening the door for her. It wasn’t like he had any problems with his mutation, but some of his more animalistic qualities... Unnerved people. Hell, at times, he was bothered by what he could do. What he kept locked away.

She could sense his nervousness. There would be time later for finding out his full mutation, but now was time for a shower. The fact that she smelled like dirt and sweat was not something she enjoyed, no matter how much she enjoyed the getting muddy and gross. “I am a vegetarian, Logan. Please--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got it.” She narrowed her eyes, then stumbled. A pair of adamantium laced hands pushed her towards the stairs. “Shower. Ya smell dreadful.”

“That is not funny, Logan!” she bit.

He sauntered to the kitchen, totally unfazed. “Yes, it actually kinda is.” He listened for her footsteps, then listened to the water run. He cracked his knuckles, causing the few kids in the kitchen to grate their teeth. No one ever liked the sound of metal scraping metal, but it was damned funny to watch their faces. His happy faced twisted, preparing his menacing scowl for the crumb snatchers. They cleared immediately, taking their plates with them.

He smelled him before he saw him, and Logan nearly groaned. He did not need Bobby pestering him for any girly crap. And it was girly. The kid couldn’t figure how to put the moves on Kitty, not that Logan would let him. The fucker moved from Marie to Kitty in no time flat; not that he had anything against Kitty, he was just pissed it broke Rouge’s heart. It took everything in him to not knock him around for that one. “Hey, Logan. You making lunch? Is that lettuce? You making a sandwich. I just ate, but I wouldn’t mind--”

“Slow yer roll, bub. This ain’t fer you, and you already ate. You trying to get fat?” he growled, grabbing a knife, chopping up the lettuce. He quickly moved onto the tomatoes, cucumbers followed.

Bobby watched, fascinated. He admired Logan, wanting to master that gruff smoothness he had. Women just loved him, and Bobby wanted that. Plus, he didn’t give a crap about anyone’s opinion, and that was an accomplishment in its own right. Whoever said they didn’t care about anyone’s opinion was a liar. Someone’s always mattered. After all, who would you have to impress? Bobby used to think it was Dr. Grey for Logan, but those were idle thoughts at this point. She was Mrs. Summers now. “Not fat, just bigger. Anyways, I thought I heard Storm. Is she around? I needed to ask her something.”

Logan almost smiled, recalling her words from earlier. Someone would need me soon enough. How the woman ever managed to escape the constant badgering, he had no idea. But she was dedicated to the school, that much he knew. It couldn’t possibly bother her. She liked the kids and she liked helping, it only made sense she was so dedicated. End of story. “Ya did, but she’s in the shower.”

“Where? Do you know when she’ll be out?”

What the...? “What could be so damn important, Bobby? The woman is showering,” he growled, slamming his hands on the counter. Logan nearly cringed. If he cracked the granite, he’d be replacing it. “Come on, out with it.”

Bobby swallowed. “I... I just wanted to ask about the laundry schedules. Usually Mr. Summers assigns it, but ever since he left for his honeymoon, Ms. Munroe’s been assigning it. There was a conflict.” Whoops.

His mood switched, pissed became rabid. “Yer up in arms over the fucking laundry! Damn kid, is anyone washing now? Take yer shit down there and take the fucking initiative!” He threw his hands in the air, wanting to break something. Mainly Scott’s nose, but the bastard was on his honeymoon. He was taking it out on the wrong person, and the danger room could make clones... “Beat it,” he ordered, his voice low.

The lettuce was abandoned, and Ororo came from her shower, ready to eat.


Chapter End Notes:
Alright, lovies, to clear this one up: her greenhouse isn't in the mansion and I'm doing a fusion of movie-verse and comic cannon things. I'm sure you'll adjust but I just wanted to make that clear.
ALSO! if you catch any errors, let me know and I'll correct them.



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