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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is more to show awkwardness. I think I'm gonna make this story relatively short but if you guys want to see anything happen LET ME KNOW. (might stretch it a bit.)
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Ororo rubbed her brow, trying to not feel her massive headache. She’d stayed up way into the early morning talking with Logan, catching up. (But she wouldn’t be so bold as to call it that. "Catching up" required a shared history and they had none.) She’d had a beer or two and he’d had a beer or four. It was nice. And now she was exhausted and had a pounding headache. She’d never been a lightweight but it had been a while since she had alcohol; her tolerance was close to “no.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee, not caring that it would probably agitate her headache. She’d already popped an analgesic; she just needed to wake up.

Taking a sip of the overly sugared, overly creamed coffee, Ororo sighed. Pure heaven, the stuff was. Her already jittery body relished the hot coffee making its way down her throat. Ororo opened her eyes and looked out the kitchen bay windows. It was a beautiful day, but she already knew that having watched the sun come up with Logan.

“Morning,” Scott said, grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

“Morning,” she returned, taking another sip. When her stomach growled, she moved to the fridge, ready to make herself a quick breakfast. “How was dinner?” she asked kindly, refusing to let herself be bitter that they’d excluded her. You brought it upon yourself, Ororo reminded herself.

“Good,” Scott said vaguely, taking a sip of his black coffee. He glanced at Ororo. “Uh... Sorry we didn’t...”

“It’s fine,” Ororo interrupted, waving her hand. “I had a fine evening.” She took out some eggs and mushrooms. “I met Logan.”

Scott hummed around his coffee cup, watching her grab a skillet and fire up the oven. “Oh? And how was he?”

“He’s alright.” Ororo said, cracking some eggs. “Nice,” she amended. Scott rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Why does every woman say he’s nice,” Scott muttered to himself. He shook his head and put his cup down, moving to grab some slices of mostly dry bread. He’d have to go shopping later today, he mentally noted. Dropping the pieces in the toaster, he looked at Ororo. “Wait... He was home last night?”

“Well, yes.” Ororo wasn’t about to mention what time she found him or how she found. The fact that she was mentioning this to Scott at all was remarkable in some small way. The fact that they were talking at all was what mattered, though Ororo felt bad that she was using Logan as a crutch. She wished she could just dive into the conversation. Like how things used to be. But they weren’t how they used to be so why should they act like it? “I’m guessing he’s not really your number one fan, huh?” Ororo joked, nudging Scott in the side.

Scott smirked. “Only if there’s a chance I’ll walk in front of a train.”

“Wha--” Ororo put her spatula down. “You can’t be serious!”

Scott nodded. “He hates my guts. I’m sure of it.”

“Why does he hate you, Scott? There’s got to be some sort of reason.”

“Oh, there is. And it’s got red hair and green eyes,” Scott said, not looking at Ororo. A heavy feeling settled on Ororo’s heart. Were Scott and Jean having some sort of trouble? Ororo certainly hoped not. “So you’re making omelets? That’s nice,” he said, smoothly changing the topic.

“As you can see,” Ororo joked, pointing at Scott’s glasses.

“Oh, har-dee-har,” Scott said flatly, a smile on his face. “My sight isn’t all that bad.”

“You sure?” asked Ororo. “How many fingers am I holding up?” she teased. She raised her hand and waggled her fingers in front of Scott’s face.

“Four and a thumb,” Scott said, grabbing Ororo’s hand from his face. “I didn’t forget everything from when we were kids.” Ororo thinned her lips to a smile and turned away from Scott, pushing her eggs around. Scott fell silent and picked up his cup of coffee, moving slightly away. “I wasn’t talking about it, Ororo.”

“I know,” she said hastily. “I know.”

“Then why are you--”

“Is that fresh?” asked a sleepy Jean. “I could use a cup of hot coffee. I’m worn out from last night.” She stretched as she walked over to the cabinet and grabbed herself a mug. Pouring herself a cup, she smiled at Scott. “Morning.” Scott returned the greeting, his cup raised. “Morning, Ororo.”

“Morning, Jean.”

Jean fixed her coffee to her liking and stood beside Scott, watching Ororo cook. “You’re making breakfast?” she asked, slightly confused.

“Yeah; I figured people would be hungry in the morning,” Ororo said loftily, not looking up from her cooking. Well, Ororo could see who she would be making headway with first. Scott, while still tense, was at least able to put up a front while Jean was being straightforward. It was weak, but she could work with a fake person than someone who was being upfront-- there would be less resistance and more willingness to hear her out. “Want some?”

Jean looked at the eggs and sniffed. “Well, I guess I’ve never had your cooking before--”

“You makin’ breakfast?” asked a disheveled looking Logan. He, like Scott and Jean, grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee, then proceeded to watch Ororo cook. (It was an annoying feeling-- being watched.) “You gonna make anything else other than eggs?”


Breakfast was just as awkward as Ororo expected it to be. They didn’t really talk and if they did, they didn’t really look at one another. Ororo could just feel their gazes, though. She just knew they wanted to ask questions and she half wished they would, but she half wished they wouldn't. There would be time to discuss what had happened; Ororo was moving back into the home Charles bequeathed her.

When it was finished, Logan flicked his eyes from Jean to Ororo. He cleared his throat loudly, breaking the silence. “The breakfast was nice, Roro.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Ororo smiled, feeling grateful.

“Mm, yes,” hummed Scott. “Your cooking is much better than it originally was.”

Ororo screwed her face in mock-anger. “I wasn’t that bad--”

“You could burn water,” Scott said flatly, a smile tugging his lips. “In fact, I think you’re the only person in the history of the world to make bad tea.”

“How do you make bad tea?” asked Logan, catching onto the light bantering. “You just dunk the bag into the water.” Scott broke out into laughter-- actual laughter-- and doubled over from the memory. Logan cocked a brow, thinking it over. “Oh, you didn’t! You don’t open the bag.”

Ororo groaned. “I didn’t... know that... then.” Scott’s laughter became louder and Ororo playfully whapped him. “Oh, stop! I was a kid and I wanted to do something nice.” Scott snorted his laughter and evaded another punch. “Quit laughing!”

“We were sick,” Scott explained, his smile and good humor so infectious Logan nearly smiled. “She was with one of the maids and asked to make the tea she was given when she was sick.” Scott sighed and shook his head. “The maid turned her head for just a second and Ororo cut the tea bags open and dumped them in the water. I think I nearly choked to death on that tea.” Scott rubbed Ororo’s back. “Thanks for that, Ro.”

“Any time,” she said sourly.

There was a silence. Jean took a sip of her coffee. “But I guess you learned how to cook in... Arkansas, was it? Or was it Louisiana?" Jean cocked her head. "Or maybe Africa.”

Ororo picked up her cup of coffee and copied Jean’s stance: elbows on the table, eyes focused on the cup of coffee. “I learned the basics in Arkansas but officially in Louisiana. I only got better in Africa.”

Jean hummed and nodded. “Was that all you learned on your... travels?”

Ororo looked at Jean and gave a tight smile. “I learned about more than just cooking while I was away.”

Jean returned Ororo’s smile. “And, tell us: What else did you 'learn', Ororo?” Jean put her coffee cup down and rested against her chair. “Enlighten us.”

Ororo put her coffee cup down, traced the rim, and then wiped her lip print away. “The usual thing one learns about while away from home.” Ororo rose to her feet and gathered her plate as well as Scott’s and Logan's. “Life.”





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