Xavier Institute
The east library was quiet save for the crackle of flames against popping logs. Wolverine stood in the center of the grandiose room, impatiently waiting for Xavier. He studied his surroundings, the inlaid marble floor, the gilded mantle over the fireplace, the paintings lining the walls. The room screamed opulence. He shook his head. How in the hell had he ended up here? He didn’t belong here. He never would.
When he had arrived at the Institute, it had been under false pretenses. His mission was simple. Infiltrate, recon, assassinate. However, once inside the X-Men’s home, Wolverine had found himself listening to Xavier, and wanting to be a part of the telepath’s dream of a united world. Not to mention his deep and abiding attraction to a certain redhead. In the end, his attraction for Jean had caused him to do a regrettable deed.
Wolverine chuffed softly. Not like he could change it now. Slowly he made his way towards the fireplace, leaning against the wall. Throwing Cyclops from a cliff had been an impromptu decision. Opportunity had reared it’s head, and Wolverine had pounced.
The tall, engraved double doors swung inward, pulling Wolverine away from his inner reflections, and Professor Charles Xavier wheeled himself into the large room. The bald headmaster of Xavier’s Institute of Higher Learning looked every inch an educator with his gentle features. He paused midway into the room, watching Wolverine carefully, studiously, almost as though he expected some reaction from him.
Wolverine remained positioned where he was, leaning beside the mantle on one shoulder, his left hand in the denim pocket of newly adorned jeans, a look of bored indifference on his shadowed face.
“Wolverine.” Xavier greeted. He rolled forwards until he sat directly in front of the small fire, which was where his deep gaze rested, watching the dancing orange flames as though fascinated by them. He spoke without looking at Wolverine. “Welcome back, Logan.”
Wolverine grunted in acknowledgement.
“I must admit to a certain amount of surprise at your easy agreement to rejoin the X-Men.”
“Hnh.”
“Care to share the reason behind it?”
“Care ta share why the hell ya want me back here after I nearly off’d yer pencil necked squad leader?”
Xavier‘s mouth twitched. “Truth is, bringing you back was Scott’s idea.”
This surprised Logan, but he hid it well. “Scooter a masochist?” he grumbled.
“Hardly.” Finally Xavier turned his deep hazel eyes on Wolverine. “He’s a leader. Being such is not something he takes lightly or without responsibility. Scott joined my cause to help those he thought needed it, not for his own personal benefit. As he pointed out, perhaps you need this place more than anyone.”
Wolverine repositioned himself against the mantle so that the flat of his back pressed the warm bricks. He crossed his arms in front of him, the seemingly permanent scowl on his face deepening. “Somehow I ain’t buyin’ that’s yer angle, Chuck.”
Charles Xavier, addressed by his students and X-Men as either Professor or Professor X, let Wolverine’s lack of formality slide. “Make no mistake, Wolverine. I much prefer the idea of the world’s deadliest mutant fighting alongside my X-men as opposed to against them.”
Wolverine gave his all too familiar grunted response.
Xavier inclined his head, his stare speculative. “You have yet to answer my question.”
Wolverine flashed a dark look at Xavier. “This place amuses me,” he provided.
“Hmm. I think it is more than that.”
“Does it really matter? I’m here.”
“True enough. But for how long?”
Logan shrugged, a barely perceptible shift of his powerful frame. “As long as it suits me.” After a pause he asked. “How’d you guys find me?”
“General Fury.” Xavier supplied without hesitation. “He called and informed me that he had sent you to the jungle on assignment but had lost contact with you. Since it was an unauthorized job he couldn’t very well send his own soldiers to retrieve you.”
Fury, a longtime contact and soldier was one of the few people Wolverine respected enough to work for. “Hnh.”
Charles rolled away from the fire. “You are welcome here for however long you wish, Wolverine. There is, of course, the condition you don’t try to kill any more of my students.” A small smile hinted at the humor behind Xavier’s statement.
Wolverine nodded. “I won’t try again. Next time I’ll make damn sure they’re good and dead.”
“Wolverine--”
“Relax, Chuck. I ain’t gonna gut pretty boy or anyone else. I didn’t come back fer that.” A slight scratching sound caught his attention and Logan’s gaze moved to the closed doors. His lip curled.
Professor Xavier sent a small telekinetic push and the door opened slightly. There was a meow as a rust colored cat darted through the semi-open library doors, landing on Xavier’s lap, hissing at Wolverine.
Wolverine raised one brow. “Well, there’s one reason I came back,” he muttered.
Charles gave Wolverine’s back a questioning look as he strode towards the door.
“The cat?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Wolverine shook his head. “Pussy, Chuck. Pussy.” Wolverine closed the door behind him, amused by Xavier’s disbelieving expression.
Rec Room
“I can’t believe he’s back,” Kitty Pryde exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than normal. “I mean, he tried to kill-- KILL-- Cyclops.” She threw herself onto the brown leather couch that sat in the back of the room near the big screen television and pinball machines. Her chestnut curls bounced with the motion.
“No one has forgotten that, Katya,” Colossus said with a frown. “But obviously both Scott and the Professor find him redeemable.”
“I for one think the guy was kinda hot,” Ali stated with a smirk. She clicked the silver stud in her tongue against her front teeth absently. She folded her slender tattooed arms behind her head and sighed. “Definitely doable.”
Kitty rolled her brown eyes. “Who wouldn’t you do?”
Ali lifted her middle finger. “I wouldn’t touch you.”
“Thank heaven for small miracles.” Kitty shot back.
Bobby Drake entered the room, sipping a coke. He inclined his blond head at the two glowering females. “Cat fight?” he asked Peter.
“Fuck off, Frosty Freeze.” Ali snapped.
“Yup. Cat fight.” He kept walking.
“C’mon, Petey. You agree with me. Short, dark and hairy has got some major sex appeal,” Ali continued.
Peter ran one large hand along the back of his neck, shrugging one massive shoulder. “I am not one to judge.”
“Riiight.” Ali sat up, leaning one elbow on her combat fatigue clad leg, slapping Peter’s thigh with her other hand. “Like you don’t check out the buffet around here. See who’s packin’ sausage and who’s got the foot long.”
“I don’t care to continue this conversation.” He was red faced.
“You are not quite right in the head, are you?’ Kitty said to Ali with a snort.
“Piss off, Spaz. The grown ups are talking.”
*X-Men. I require your presence in the conference room.*
Colossus rose quickly, heading for the door at a near run.
Ali stood and stretched, her white tank riding up as she did, revealing the Celtic tattoo circling her navel and the skull and cross bones belly button ring she wore.
“Is there any part of you that’s not pierced or marked?” Kitty asked, unabashedly curious.
Ali shot her a grin. “Nope.”
Conference Room
There was the dull, muted echo of a dozen small conversations taking place at the same time when Wolverine stepped through the hydraulic powered sliding door. Most of them ceased upon his arrival. He didn’t acknowledge anyone in the room, but met each stare of those brave enough to momentarily meet his steel gray eyes. There were several new faces at the table and he groaned inwardly. Newbies. Fuckin’ swell.
Cyclops approached him. “You look recovered,” he said neutrally.
Wolverine gave him a cold once over. “What’s the deal, Scooter? Chuck tells me bringing me back was yer idea.”
Scott nodded, the ruby of his visor winking under the overhead lights. “The team needs someone like you.”
Wolverine cocked a brow. “Someone like me?”
Scott’s mouth was a grim line. “Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.
“How’s Jeannie?” Wolverine asked deliberately, scanning the room for his former playmate.
At the mention of the beautiful redhead Cyclops stiffened, his tall frame tense. “She’s fine. I‘m sure you two will cross paths.”
“Hunh.” Wolverine shouldered past Scott. As he made his way to the long table in the center of the large room, two slim legs dangled in front of him from the ceiling. He paused in his trek as Katherine Pryde dropped through the ceiling above to the floor.
At the sight of the glowering man in front of her Kitty skidded back, her hand going to her throat as she gasped, “Wolverine.”
“Shadowcat.”
She moved hastily away from him, watching him warily. She had been with him and Scott on the mission to the Savage Land, having stowed away in the jet. A part of her still felt guilty for leaving Cyclops alone with Wolverine, hanging from the sheer side of a cliff, but she had gone back to the Blackbird for rope, only to be joined moments later by Wolverine, claiming Scott had slipped from his hands and fallen to his death. The fact that he had let Scott purposefully fall wasn’t revealed until months later when Cyclops had shown up on the Institutes front steps and blasted Wolverine through three walls on sight.
None of the X-Men had ever seen their stoic leader unleash a blast like that and they had all stared in dumbfounded shock. Jean had stood stock still, her large green eyes disbelieving and her mouth trembling. “Scott…“ she had whispered.
Scott had only snarled four words as he passed her and mounted the stairs. “I want him gone.”
Wolverine had left as soon as he was conscious and no one had tried to stop him. His betrayal had come as a complete shock, though it probably shouldn’t have, and it was painful for those that had begun to accept the feral mutant into their lives. Seeing him now brought that hurt back to Kitty and she didn’t want to be near him.
Wolverine didn’t seem bothered by the distrust, in fact he seemed rather comfortable with it. He pulled out one of the cushioned chairs and sat, propping his booted feet on the table. He listened to the whispers, his superior hearing picking up even the faintest undertone.
“…Killer…”
“Six Claws…from his hands…”
“Cyclops…Jean…jealous.”
“He’s scary…”
“…Sexy.” That one caught him by surprise.
“I think he can hear…”
“Shh…”
“Anyone seen Storm?” This caught his attention. For the first time since walking through the sliding door he took in the entire room and realized that indeed the white haired witch wasn’t among those present. He should’ve known immediately, her unique and fresh scent was nowhere in the stuffy room. Instead there was the cloying scent of several perfumes and colognes mixing with body odor and perspiration. He tilted his head, listening to the conversation.
“Yeah, I saw her earlier. She was in the garden.”
“Well, where is she now?” That was Scooter. “The meetings about to start.”
A familiar soft feminine voice answered. “Where do you think?”
Jeannie. Wolverine sat up in his chair, his eyes narrowing on his target.
Jean Grey. She was as beautiful as he remembered, maybe more so now that her shining red tresses were longer, brushing against her shoulders. She was standing besides Cyclops, her pale hand on his uniform clad shoulder, her porcelain face turned up towards his, her soft pink lips parted.
Wolverine frowned a bit. Where was the familiar kick in his gut? The flickering of desire he’d always felt for her? All he felt now was a mild interest in her looks. She was attractive, sure. Beautiful even. But not gorgeous. Not like--
“Good morning, X-Men.” Xavier rolled through the door at the rear of the room, the one adjacent to his office.
The others took their seats along the table, most of them careful to avoid sitting beside Wolverine. Colossus took the seat on his left, a welcoming smile on the handsome Russian’s face.
“It is good that you are back, Logan.” Colossus clapped one large hand on Wolverine’s back. “You were sorely missed.”
“Don’t get all flowery on me, big man. I just may blush,” Wolverine said with a smirk.
A woman with dark spiked hair that he didn’t recognize took the seat to his right. She leaned towards him with avid interest, her light blue-green eyes searching his face.
He met her gaze and she blinked, a bit caught off guard by his direct stare. A slow smile appeared on her face. “You’re intense,” she said, a little huskily.
Wolverine leaned forward until their lips were almost touching, his eyes never leaving hers. “You have no idea,” he growled, a low rumble from his chest.
Alison grinned. “Wanna show me?”
Wolverine cocked his head. “I’d break ya.”
Ali laughed throatily, undaunted. “If skinny Jean can take you, I have no doubts I could.”
“Hm.” He bared his teeth. “I doubt it.”
“I’m Alison.”
“Ahem.” Xavier cleared his throat.
“Party pooper,” Ali muttered. She winked at Wolverine, then reclined against her seat, waiting for the Professor to begin.
Charles took in the room, noticing the seat on his left was empty. He sent out a mental call, and frowned as it was purposefully ignored. After a repeated attempt he sighed. “Kurt, if you would be so kind as to fetch Ororo.”
“Ja. Where is she?” A blue furred mutant rose, another Wolverine didn’t recognize. He was well built, Wolverine noticed, muscular and lean. He carried himself with a confidence in his movements, a natural grace. With proper training, that one could be a helluva a fighter, Logan thought.
Xavier’s gaze was somber as he responded to the young man. “With Hank.”
Wolverine watched the exchange with sudden interest. So Ororo and Big Blue had finally hooked up? Logan had thought Henry McCoy had a thing for Storm back before he’d left the team, but nothing had seemed to come of it.
Apparently things were different now, and he was surprised by the brief flash of anger that he felt. What the fuck did he care if Beast was stickin’ it to Storm? Wasn’t any of his damn business. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his dark scowl darkening even further as he thought about Ororo with Beast.
Cemetery
Ororo carefully laid the bundle of flowers she had in her hand against the gray marble of Hank’s tombstone. She had picked them earlier, arranging them just so, and making certain the scent they created together was appealing. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she bent forward, absently sweeping aside the dried leaves resting on the headstone. She traced the engraved name with her fingertips.
“Oh, Henry. I miss you so much,” she whispered. “I picked you some flowers today. I know, I know, flowers are such a girlie thing, but…” She sighed, trailing off. She seated herself so that her back rested on the cool slab. A light breeze picked up several silvery white strands of her hair, lifting them against her cheek and for just a moment she allowed herself to believe it was Hank touching her face. Her throat tightened painfully and she blinked back her tears, the sky already darkening in her sadness.
“Wolverine’s back,” she said at last.
The rustle of leaves in the wind was the only response to that statement.
“We went to the jungle to get him. The patterns in the air down there were beyond beautiful,” she continued. “Like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was very dangerous to use my powers, though. So much climate to play with and manipulate. I could have lost myself in the storms down there. But I did what you suggested and stayed focused, and thankfully we made it out alive… I’m sorry,” she took a deep breath. “I’m trying, Henry. I’m trying so hard not to hate you right now.” She pressed her hand to her eyes. “I feel so alone now, Blue. I can’t…can’t believe you left me like that. Damn you. You never even listened to me…”
The winds around the Institute began to increase in response to Ororo’s mood. She let the weather wash over her, enjoying the rush of the wind and the first splashes of rain against her face.
*BAMF*
“Guten tag, Ororo.”
She didn’t open her eyes. “Hello, Nightcrawler.”
Kurt Wagner glanced at the swirling clouds over head, noting their dark color and rapid spin. “Your presence is required in the conference room,” he said gently.
“No, it’s not.”
“Uhh, ja. I believe the Professor would like very much for you to be there.”
“He’ll deal.”
Kurt sighed. “Ororo. This is not healthy,” he said at last, saying what no one else had dared say. Everyone at the institute had noticed her frequent visits to the cemetery. In fact, when Hank had first been buried there had been several occasions when Ororo had been found asleep atop his grave. It was a disturbing habit she had developed, and was unnerving to her teammates.
She opened glacier eyes. “Mind your own business, Nightcrawler.”
“You are my friend, Storm. That makes you my business.” he said, undaunted. “Hank’s death was not your fault.”
Ororo’s ice blue eyes faded and two glowing white orbs glared up at the handsome German. Thunder rumbled overhead, the sound echoing across the cemetery. “Leave me alone.”
Kurt’s own eyes glowed yellow. “Nein. I was sent to bring you back to the mansion.”
Lightening arced from cloud to cloud.
Nightcrawler remained undaunted, his gentle smile unchanging. “You won’t hurt me, Storm. I’m your friend.” Kurt held out one three fingered hand to her and Ororo felt her anger melting away. He was her friend, and she would not hurt him, she’d never hurt another friend again. She took his hand.
“Very good, leibling.” Kurt’s smile broadened, his teeth very white next to his dark blue fur. “Is this where I am to say ‘I told you so’?”
“Don’t push it,” Ororo said with a half smile. She gave Hank’s headstone one last look before Kurt teleported her to the mansion.
*BAMF*
“Nice of you to join us, Ororo.” Xavier greeted, his tone neutral.
Ororo nodded her head, but said nothing. She took the empty seat to Xavier’s left and immediately felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. She tipped her face, her eyes going down the long table to rest on the man at the end, his self assured smirk making her grit her teeth.
Wolverine watched Ororo through semi-hooded eyes. Her blue gaze was turned on him and his muscles tensed. She always looked like she could see right through him. Her blue eyes cutting through his bullshit layers and seeing him for what he was. It was not a pleasant feeling.
Unconsciously his lip curled at her, flashing his canines.
She turned away from him, disinterested, returning her full attention to Xavier.
“The document that is being sent down the table is a rough draft of a proposed Mutant Registration and Containment Act proposed in the Senate last week.” The Professor waited until everyone had a copy in front of them. “The law is pending decision and revision. However, in the mean time, the Sentinel program has been reactivated as well as a mutant task force. The standing orders now are to prevent mutant activity by any means necessary, as well as the retrieval of information, with the same standard.”
“Being a mutant is no longer just a bad stigma? Now it’s a crime?” Jean asked, more than a bit incredulous as she read the paper in front of her. “Professor, they can’t be serious. I thought after your recent meetings with the president things would improve.”
“As did I, Marvel Girl.” Xavier said. “Apparently there are bigger forces at work than I had foreseen. All this means for us, my X-Men, is that we must fight that much harder for the dream.”
“Why bother?” Ali tossed her copy of the proposed bill onto the table with an angry flick of her wrist. “They hate us. That obviously ain’t gonna change.”
“Our dream has become a goal, and it became such the moment we took action to follow the path of homo-sapiens and homo-superior coexistence,” Xavier admonished. “We can not give up simply because an obstacle blocks the path.”
Ororo leaned forward in her chair. “Somehow a bunch of sanctimonious wackos have managed to legalize the torture of mutants, and you still want to prattle on about living in harmony with these bozos? Forgive me for saying so, Professor, but sometimes I just get tired of all the verbal diarrhea around here. It’d be nice if everyone just shut the hell up and did something.” With that she slid her chair back and got to her feet.
“I have not excused you, Storm,” the Professor stated.
She arched one frosty brow. “I didn’t ask for your permission.” She moved away from the table.
“Storm--!” Cyclops called after her.
*Let her go, Scott.* Xavier sent. *She needs some space.*
Wolverine watched Ororo walk past, his eyes narrowed in speculation. She had changed in the months he’d been away. Ororo had always been street smart and a wise guy, but there was an edge to her now that hadn’t been there before. He wondered briefly what had happened. Did her new boyfriend have anything to do with it? And where the hell was the Blue-Boy anyways?
“The second item I want to address today is a much more personal one. We have begun expansion of the training facility based on the designs and work started by Beast. I need volunteers for labor and testing.” He paused, his gaze resting on Wolverine. “It could be dangerous.”
Wolverine cocked his head. “Dangerous? I‘m in.”
“And me as well,” Colossus added.
A few others volunteered and Xavier nodded. “That will be all, X-Men. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.” There was a general commotion as everyone got up to leave.
Wolverine remained seated, casually watching the others pass, taking stock of each person. Calculating.
“They find it unnerving when you do that,” Xavier said as the last of the students filed from the room.
Wolverine shrugged. “Don’t much care. So when do we get started on the dangerous exercises?”
“The Danger Room modifications are being implemented as we speak, and the facility should be completed in a week. Testing will commence then. In the mean time you are always welcome to help with the manual labor.”
Wolverine nodded. Working with his hands was something he enjoyed, one of the few things that gave him a sense of pride.
“If you wish to help with the building, speak with Storm. She is overseeing the operation.”
Wolverine scoffed. “Miss prissy attitude is overseeing construction?”
“This is her project. I‘m sure she would appreciate any help you can provide.”
“Hnh.”
“Once again, welcome back, Wolverine.” With that Xavier rolled himself from the room and back into his office.
Backyard Construction Site
Wolverine cricked his neck, giving a satisfied grunt as the bones popped. He had changed into a white muscle shirt and a pair of faded jeans and boots. He adjusted his beaten cowboy hat and scanned the worksite for Ororo. He spotted her leaning over a small table, blueprints laid out in front of her, her head bent in concentration. He took the moment to study her in the sunlight.
She had changed as well, no longer in her uniform, instead in a pair of denim cutoffs, with a Harley Davidson tank and Redwing boots, her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail that was currently dangling across her shoulder. She was gnawing her full bottom lip pensively. She had great skin, he thought, enjoying the way it shimmered in the sunlight, a fine hint of perspiration giving her a healthy glow. She tensed and slowly her head came up, her vivid blue eyes locking on him.
He made his way towards her. “Chuck told me ya could use an extra pair of hands.”
She studied him for a moment, then, “Grab a hammer, make yourself useful.”
He smirked. “Anywhere in particular?”
She sighed. “I don’t know.” she sounded frustrated.
“What’s the trouble, darlin’?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Ok. What’s the trouble, princess?”
She glowered at him.
“Ya never had a problem with me callin’ ya darlin’ before.”
She returned her gaze to the blueprints. “I‘ve changed.”
Wolverine leaned over the opposite side of the work table. “Yeah, I noticed.”
There was a subtle shift in his graveled voice that sent chills racing along Ororo’s spine. She leaned away from the table. “Are you here to help, or antagonize me?”
He grinned; a devilish tilt of his wonderfully sexy mouth. “Both.” he answered honestly.
Ororo didn’t appear amused. “Well, so far you’re succeeding in one area.”
Movement out of Wolverine’s eye caught his attention, a scant second before a cry of warning went up. The scaffolding had been knocked by a beam and was falling.
“Hit the dirt!” Wolverine dove, pulling Storm underneath him and rolling them under the table. The scaffolding crashed around them, bending the sturdy work table, but not crushing it. Dust and debris flew in the air.
Ororo was breathing heavy, but not from the near miss. She tried in vain to calm her racing heart and ignore the welcome weight of the man on top of her. Wolverine’s face was mere inches away, his hot breath teasing her parted lips, one arm was bracing his weight, the other curved around her back.
“Damn,” he growled, his head lowering.
Ororo was lost the moment his mouth touched hers. Heat and desire flooded her body and she was helpless to stop it. She didn’t want to feel this. Not for him. She turned her head away, but that only gave him access to the vulnerable line of her neck, which he took full advantage of. She gasped when she felt his moist lips on her skin, and she shivered when his tongue licked along her pulse. Goddess, give her strength…
“You guys okay?” A Russian voice called. Ororo nearly laughed with relief.
The scaffolding creaked and Ororo caught a glimmer of silver. Peter. The table was lifted off of them and Wolverine helped her to her feet, his gray eyes nearly black and his heated gaze telling her she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“We’re fine.” Ororo said.
“Of course you are fine. Wolverine was there to protect you,” Colossus said with a grin.
Ororo rolled her eyes. “Y’know, Peter. That hero worship thing is grating on my nerves. I can take care of myself.”
Wolverine winked at her.
“And you,” she turned on him. “Wipe that cocky smile off your face and get to work. Peter can show you where you are needed.” She brushed dust from her cutoffs, walking away.
Wolverine watched her walk away, not unappreciative of the gentle sway of her hips or her well formed backside. Once she was out of sight he looked at the massive construction going on. “So this is gonna be the new danger room?”
Colossus nodded. “Yes.”
“Pretty big project.”
“Yes, but it holds a lot of meaning. Especially to Ororo.”
Wolverine glanced at the larger man, pulling out a damaged cigar and lighting it. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“This is to be Hank’s memorial.”
Wolverine paused mid-puff. “Beast is dead?”
“Yeah. Killed by the Brotherhood.” Colossus’s voice became thick with emotion and rage. “They beat him to death in a dirty alleyway in the city.”
Wolverine swore. “When the fuck did this happen?”
“Two months ago.”
“Why?”
“No one is certain exactly. All that is known is that Beast left the Institute to meet with an internet flame and she turned out to be the Blob. It would be comically ironic, if not so tragic.” Colossus shook in anger. “I’ll never forget that night. Not as long as I live.”
“You find him?”
Colossus shook his head. “No. Storm did. Never have I seen such grief. It took both the Professor and Jean to stop her.”
Wolverine pushed the cigar to the opposite side of his mouth. “Stop her?”
“Yes. She raged, and so did the earth.”
Wolverine thought about that for a moment. “They were a couple?”
“Nyet. Although Henry clearly wanted to be. All he said to me on one occasion about the situation was that she had feelings for someone else. It never came up again. It was shortly after that conversation that Henry was murdered.”
“Me again.” Ororo sat cross legged on the grass. She plucked several blades absently. “Mind if I nap with you today?” She curled up on the ground, her head resting on the curve of one arm, the other touching gray marble. Slowly she allowed the steady beat of her heart to lull her to sleep.
~Hey.~
~Hey.~ Ororo glanced up at the man in front of her.
Henry McCoy lowered his large blue furred frame beside her. ~You sure you want to rehash this now?~
~I’m sure.~
~All right.~
Two months ago…
Henry McCoy could never be accused of being a ladies man. Never be misconstrued as a ‘player’ of any sort. He was a large man, covered in thick blue fur courtesy of a life saving operation, and had feet the size of Texas. His voice was a deep, rich baritone that Ororo found tremendously pleasing to listen to. She was listening to him now. “What are you reading?” he asked.
Ororo lifted the book, revealing the picture on the cover; a long haired, bare chested man on a horse. “Smut.”
Hank laughed. “Enjoyable?”
“Yes.” Ororo shifted so that she was leaning against him. He placed one hand alongside her thigh, cuddling close to her.
“What are you doing out? I figured you’d be tinkering with the new vehicles Professor X had shipped in.” she asked.
“As tempting as that is, you are far more appealing, my dear.”
Ororo chuckled. “That’s sweet.” As usual, their conversation was easy and natural, speaking of classes and events, of training and other students. They shared a couple of off color jokes and teasing comments.
“Uh, Ororo…” Hank began after a moment of comfortable silence.
Ororo tilted her head. “Yes, Henry?”
Hank lowered his head, his lips touching hers softly. For a moment Ororo was too stunned to move, then she bashfully turned her head away. “Henry…You‘re my best friend and I value that--”
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
She looked confused. “Him?”
“Wolverine.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Wolverine. You want him. I saw the way you used tolook at him. The way you would follow him with your eyes.”
“Henry are you insane?” Ororo demanded. “If I followed him with my eyes it’s because of self preservation instinct. Never turn your back on a predator. The guy’s a loose cannon and murderer. For crying out loud he tried to kill Cyclops.”
Henry had moved away from her. “And yet you still want him. More than you want me. I thought that since he was gone, that maybe, just maybe you‘d be open to--to me.”
“Henry, you’re not making any sense. You and I are friends. Where is this coming from?” She reached her hand towards his face.
He caught her wrist, his grip mildly painful. “I find it tremendously difficult to believe that you had no inclination as to my feelings for you.”
“We’re best friends,” she said softly.
Henry gave her a frustrated look. “Friends is not all I want to be with you, Ororo.”
The world as she had known it had changed in that instant. Her best friend was no longer her best friend, because he wanted more than she knew she could give him. Ororo had felt terrible, not wanting to hurt him, but needing him to understand that that was all they were ever going to be.
“Henry. I care about you very much-”
“Spare me the ‘friends’ speech, Ororo.” He rose to his feet, his hulky form surprisingly graceful. “I get it. You’re the street thief, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and no one but king of the bad-asses will do for you.”
Ororo had shaken her head in mute denial. “It’s not like that,” she protested. “I don’t want anyone else. Especially not some wack-job freak like Wolverine.”
Hank had laughed, short and humorless. “You know, I almost think you believe that.” He turned away from her, his strides long and purposeful.
“Henry!” Ororo stood, calling after him. “Henry, please, wait!”
~You left that night, Henry. To go meet your internet girlfriend.~ Ororo wiped tears from her cheeks angrily. She clenched her jaw so tight her teeth creaked. ~Only it was a trap. You big, blue idiot. A trap. The Brotherhood.~ She leaned her head forward, her cloud colored hair floating on the imaginary breeze. She would never forget that night, not for as long as she lived. She could still hear the frantic command from Xavier that the X-Men go into the city, where Henry lay in a dark and dank alley way. Beaten to a bloody pulp by the Brotherhood. She could still smell the blood and urine and the sickening sweet smell of garbage. She had been the first to arrive on the scene and she had nearly lost all control right then. Hank had been semi-conscious, blood pooling around his still body. He was beaten so bad she could barely make out his face.
Two months ago...
“…Ororo…”
“I’m here, Henry.” She had cradled his head in her lap, smoothing his hair, trying not to hurt him. “Don’t move, sweetie. The others are on their way.”
“Too late…liver is punctured…another…few minutes…”
“Ssshhh.” Ororo had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a fighter. You’ve beaten the odds before.”
“so sorry…I made…an ass…”
“Sh. Henry please, save your energy.” She had been shaking so bad the words almost didn’t come out.
“Have to…” His chest rattled and blood trickled from between his lips. “So sorry…I love you…could..you..could you have…loved me..?” His eyes had glazed in that moment, death taking him from her before she could answer.
“NNNNNOOOOOOOO!!!” The sky had split open and the earth itself had heaved. Ororo’s eyes glowed angry white and she screamed her throat bloody. Only the Professor’s and Jean’s combined efforts had shut her down and prevented the worst natural disaster in history from hitting the east coast.
~I did love you.~ Henry said quietly.
Ororo looked up, her eyes spilling silver tears. ~I know.~
Hank brushed his finger against her cheek. ~You deserve to be happy, Ororo.~
~I killed you.~
~Is that what you think?~ Henry sighed. Of course that’s what she thought. ~Storm, you aren’t responsible for my actions.~
~But if I had told you…~
~You mean if you had lied?~
~It wouldn’t be a lie, Henry. I do love you.~
~I know.~ He caressed her cheek. ~But not as I wanted you to.~
~I’m so sorry, Henry.~
~Don’t be. I’m not.~
~But you’re dead.~
~Hm. Yeah, that part sucks.~
Ororo gave a choked laugh. ~I miss you.~
~And I you, little Wind-rider.~
~Is this real?~
~No. Just a guilt reaction from your psyche in response to your feelings for Wolverine.~
~Figures.~
~Be happy, Ororo. It’s what I would want for you. Stop mourning me and live. Live life to the fullest, because if you aren’t going to live life to it’s full extent, then what’s the point in having lived it?~
~I’ll be back tomorrow.~
~I know.~
Ororo sat up slowly, yawning. The sun was setting behind the Institute. She stretched her arms over her head, glancing at the tombstone, feeling more at peace in that moment than she had in months. “Good night, Henry.”
From his vantage point on the partially built roof, Wolverine watched Ororo follow the cobblestone path from the small cemetery where Hank and David Xavier resided, her steps a little lighter than when she had left earlier.
Kissing her in the Amazon had ignited something in him that wouldn’t die. An ache and a need to possess her that was driving him mad. She was a challenge, that was it. That explained his need for her. He’d always been able to have whatever woman he wanted, and she refused him. Why he wanted her was beyond him, hell, he didn’t even like her. Then again, he didn’t have to like her to want to be behind her while she was naked and touching her toes. His lips twisted in a feral grin. Truth be told, he rarely liked the women he fucked. Why should she be any different?
Night had fallen on Westchester some time ago, its coming heralded by the sky darkening from azure to indigo and the temperature cooling from sweltering to a breezy balmy and it currently found Ororo sitting in a corner booth of Harry’s Hideaway, sipping her tall mixed drink slowly, savoring its refreshing tang, trying her damndest not to think.
Just over an hour ago she had been seated on the front steps of the Institute, making a list of supplies she needed to have delivered for construction. She had noticed, with passive interest, several parents and potential students as they walked by her, on a Jean Grey guided tour of the mansion. Some of the adults wearing speculative looks on their faces and some looking flat out relieved that they had a place to send their ‘special’ children. It always irked her, the parents putting on a show of debating whether or not they would be sending their kids to Xavier, when in reality most not only sent their kids, but handed over guardianship as well. Hypocrites, the lot of them.
“Man, Harry’s is hoppin’ tonight!” Alison Blaire said, elbowing her way across the small, but packed dance floor, her beer in one hand, a shot of tequila in the other. Harry’s was a small bar that was a popular hangout for those of the mutant persuasion.
“Mmm.” Ororo murmured noncommittal, taking another drink. She brushed her hair off of her bare shoulder and stared across the floor, taking in the couples and relative strangers bumping and grinding against each other, performing the same tired mating ritual they performed weekend after weekend.
Ali slammed the shot back before she took her seat across from Ororo. “Whoo!” She shook her head against the bitter taste. “That shit is hot.” She studied Ororo for a moment, then, “You’re awfully quiet. Tired or something? Not sleeping much?”
Ororo shrugged. “I blame it on the evil clowns living under my bed.”
Ali raised one pierced eyebrow. “Say what?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Storm sipped her drink, a half smile flirting with her generous mouth. “Just a few little Bozo’s and one pissed off midget.”
Ali cracked up. “And they call me the weird one.”
“Only those that don’t know how utterly sane and mellow you are,” Ororo said gently with a friendly pat on Ali’s tattooed arm.
Ali beamed, opening her beer. “You’re in a mood tonight, huh?”
“Yes. I just want to relax. Have some fun.”
“Sounds like a swell plan.” She took a swig. “I still can’t believe crotchety Mr. Clean let you take one of the SUVs after what we did to the last one.”
Storm was silent.
Ali paused mid-drink. “He does know we have the car, right?” Still nothing. “Storm? The Professor knows we’re out, doesn’t he?”
Ororo lifted one shoulder. “He should. If he doesn’t then he’s not much of a psychic now, is he?”
Ali’s face split in a devilish grin. “Ah, hell, Storm. Your gonna get us in a world of shit.”
“Probably.”
Ali laughed. “Who knew you were such a cheeky monkey.”
Xavier Institute
*Wolverine.*
“Damn, I hate when you do that.” Wolverine grumbled. He was laying on his bed, propped semi-upright against the wall in his room, clad only in a pair of unbuttoned jeans, without the lights on. The tip of his cigar gave a faint orange glow as he puffed on it.
*Forgive the intrusion, but a couple of students have seen fit to break curfew.*
Wolverine exhaled a cloud of smoke slowly. “Yeah, so?”
*I was hoping you would be so kind as to go retrieve them.*
“I ain’t no babysitter.”
*Of course not.*
“Send Scooter.”
*Normally I would, but I have given him and Jean the night off.*
Wolverine’s teeth ground against each other. “Well, that’s just too bad, ain’t it. The price of leadership and all.”
*That isn’t the only reason I am not sending Scott. I don’t believe he’d be able to persuade Storm to return.*
That got his attention. “Storm?”
*Yes. And Alison Blaire.*
Wolverine sat up and swung his feet over the side of his bed. “Where are they?”
*A bar outside of the city. A place called--*
“Harry’s. Yeah, I’m on it.” Wolverine stood, scratching one hand across his bare chest. He made his way to his dresser, neatly stocked with black tees and jeans. He’d have to go to town at some point and buy clothes, but for now these would do. He pulled on a snug black tee and grabbed his boots.
Harry’s
The first thing Wolverine noticed upon arrival was that the bar was busier than he could remember it being. The second thing was that he couldn’t immediately see Storm. He gave the room a predatory once over, searching for the white haired hell cat. He could smell her, he’d know her smell anywhere, a hint of sandalwood and spice, of flowers and sun, all mixed with the heady aroma of the earth after a storm.
He made his way to the bar, not needing to shoulder his way through. The patrons parted easily as he passed, moving away from him as though they could sense the danger on him, the animal, the hunter just beneath the surface. Barely contained and unbelievably lethal.
A dark spiky head caught his attention and he approached Ali from behind, tapping her on the shoulder with one finger. She didn’t bother to turn from the tattooed man she was conversing with, instead lifting her left hand and extending a solitary finger. He tapped again, harder.
Ali swiveled on the barstool, her face a dark scowl. “Look, fuck-face… Oh, hey.” Her lips parted in an uneasy smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yup. Fancy that.” He ordered a beer. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
He leveled a hard stare at her. To her credit Ali simply blinked at him, waiting.
“Storm. Where is she?”
“She’s not at home?” Ali asked innocently, swallowing the shot in front of her.
“Don’t dick me around, kid. I ain’t in the mood.”
Ali leaned towards him, her arm brushing his on the bar. “What are you in the mood for?” she asked huskily, her short, dark lashes partially veiling her shadowed blue-green eyes.
Wolverine grabbed her face in one hand, squeezing her jaw painfully. “Sleep. And seeing as how I can’t get none until I haul yours and Storm’s asses back to Xavier’s I’m really not in the mood fer games. Now, tell me where Storm is, or I get grumpy.”
Ali glared at him, but realized she wasn’t breaking his grip when she tried to pull back. “She’s on the floor with the Vin Diesel look alike,” she finally mumbled.
Wolverine released her and turned on his stool, grabbing the beer the bartender set down.
Ali rubbed her jaw. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.
Wolverine ignored her, his primary focus was finding Storm. The bodies on the floor were jumping and grinding to a song that he was thankfully unfamiliar with. Through a brief gap in the writhing forms, he caught sight of Storm in the center of the floor. Her long hair was damp with sweat, sticking to her face and neck as she moved to the throbbing music.
He took a slow drink from his bottle, watching her, taking her in. Her hair was unbound, and the tendrils sticking to her body were a startling contrast of white on caramel. She was wearing a spaghetti strapped white laced top and a pair of black leather pants, held up by a silver looped belt. Every time she raised her arms over her head he caught a glimpse of her toned midriff and small navel. After a brief study he realized she wasn’t alone in the throng of people. The guy she was dancing with was tall and muscular, sporting a shaved head and dark sunglasses. He was wearing a white muscle shirt and dark denim jeans. And he was dancing far too close to Ororo as far as Wolverine was concerned. He chugged on his beer.
Ororo gyrated to the beat and swung her head back and forth, the music pounding in her blood. She was having a surprisingly good time tonight and she was loathe for it to end, but she knew they needed to get back to the Institute soon. She opened her eyes and noticed that a man was dancing right on top of her.
“So, where’re you from?” The guy dancing in front of her asked.
Ororo shook her head, not catching what he said. “Huh?”
He moved closer, one hand resting on her hip as he leaned in. “Where are you from?”
“Oh. Here and there,” she answered vaguely.
He smiled. He had a nice smile. She returned to dancing.
“I’m Derek,” he hollered over the music.
Ororo nodded.
“Aren’t you going t tell me your name?”
“No.”
He laughed. “You play hard to get?”
“No. I don’t play,” she said stepping back. He followed.
“How about I buy you a drink?”
“Thanks, but I’m all set.” She turned, still dancing, hoping he would get the subtle hint.
She felt strong arms slide around her waist and Derek ground himself against her backside in time to the music. Ororo placed her hands over his, trying to dislodge him without making a scene. He bent his head, whispering in her ear. “You’ve got an incredible body.”
“Thanks for noticing,” she drawled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get going.”
“What’s the hurry?” he asked, pulling her back against him.
Ororo gave him a cold look over her shoulder, all pretense of being civil gone. “You make me nauseous.”
Derek’s smile faded slightly, but not altogether. He was a good looking man, he knew that. Women always hit on him. “You do like to play hard to get, don’t you?” he leered, one hand sliding from her hip to the underside of her breast. “That’s ok, I like the chase.”
Feeling a wave of cold, hard anger wash over her Ororo contemplated kneeing him the groin or breaking his nose. The decision was taken out of her hands however as Derek was physically pulled off of her and a large fist smashed into his jaw, sending him stumbling and crashing into and through several dancers, until finally falling back over one of the small round tables littering the bar.
“Get up.” Wolverine stood over the man whose legs were sticking up over the table top at awkward angles.
Derek wiped his hand across his bloody mouth, spitting out his front tooth. “Jesus fucking Christ, dude…” He looked up at Wolverine, taking in the ferocious looking man that had just landed him on his ass and the rest of whatever he was about to say died in his throat. It wasn’t that Wolverine’s fists were still clenched, or even his rugged build that stopped Derek’s words, it was the glint in the other man’s eyes. The barely contained ferocity that shimmered below the surface, begging to get out.
Ororo, not having the vantage point Derek did, heedlessly grabbed Wolverine’s shoulder. “Hey!”
He barely glanced at her, his dark eyes locked on his prey.
“I could’ve handle this,” she stated, shoving his shoulder.
This time he turned. “Yeah, well, it’s handled. Get yer shit, we’re leavin’.” He looked back at the bar and motioned for Ali to come.
Ororo glared at him, her sapphire eyes biting. “You going to make me?”
Wolverine’s lips parted in an unquestionably feral grin and he looked her dead in the eye. “With pleasure.”
Without another word Ororo turned on her heel and made her way for the door, where Ali stood waiting.
Xavier Institute
Obstinate. Bully. Jackass. Arrogant. Vulgar. Sexy. Pigheaded. Prick. Mulish. Wait…had sexy been in there? Ororo punched her pillow, tossing it onto her bed. Damn him and his overbearing, conceited, assholic ways. Was assholic even a real word? Well, it was now. She punched her other pillow.
With a deft jerk she yanked back her burgundy comforter and forest green sheets and climbed into the cool bed. She clicked off her bedside lamp, muttering under her breath all of the personality traits she loathed about Wolverine.
There was a faint knock on her door and she tossed the covers back, surprised it had taken this long for her friend to show up. She padded quietly to the door, unmindful of her scant attire. She pulled it open without hesitation. “Ali--”
“Ain’t her.”
Ororo gasped softly without intending to. Immediately she tried to close the door, but a bare foot shoved between the door and the jamb stopped her. She shoved harder.
“Y’know, that don’t feel that great,” Wolverine growled.
“Then move it.”
Instead of removing his foot, he placed his hand flat on the door and pushed. Ororo stumbled back. He entered and silently closed the door behind him.
“What do you want?” she crossed her arms over her chest, supremely conscious of the skimpy top and silk shorts.
He stared at her in silence for a minute. “Why are you so hostile towards me?” he asked finally.
“You tried to kill Cyclops,” she answered automatically.
“Naw, that ain’t it.” He leaned against the closed door, crossing his ankles in front of him. “You and Scooter were never all that tight.”
Ororo snorted. “You really don’t get what it means to have friends, do you?” She glared at him. “The X-Men are my friends and my family. What you do to one of us, you do to all of us. We take care of our own, it’s what holds us together. It’s a concept you obviously don’t understand.”
That much was true. He’d never had to rely on anyone else to deal with his shit. His shit was his shit, and that’s how it should be.
“You threw Cyclops off a cliff, Wolverine, and for what? A piece of ass?”
He shrugged. “A really good piece of ass,” he drawled.
Ororo gave an exasperated sigh. “This is pointless. Get out.”
“No.”
“Get. Out.”
Wolverine stared at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “You want me.”
Ororo gave a short laugh. “You’re delusional.”
Wolverine shifted, moving away from the door and stepping towards her. Ororo tilted her chin up, determined to hold her ground. Once he was scant inches from her he bent his dark head, his wild, unruly hair brushing her chin, as he sniffed, inhaling deeply. When he lifted his head again there was a triumphant gleam in his eye. “I think not,” he rumbled.
Ororo sidestepped and moved to her dresser, where she pretended interest in the scattered contents atop the tall piece of furniture.
Wolverine stepped behind her, his hands resting on her hips, his breath teasing the short hairs on the nape of her neck, revealed due to her hair being upswept in a large clip. “Why are ya fighting this?” he asked huskily. His lips grazed her skin as he spoke. “We could be so good together.” His fingers flexed and Ororo bit back a moan. “Can’t you feel it?”
Ororo shuddered. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want him. He was crude, and mean, and cold, and ruthless, and sexy, and hard, and hot and…No!
“Leave,” she whispered, her voice strangled with restrained desire.
“Ya don’t really want that, darlin‘.” Warm, moist lips pressed along her shoulder, strong hands slid up her torso, kneading her full breasts through the silk of her top.
“I mean it.” Her voice struggled for it’s familiar ice cold even as she unconsciously pressed her chest forward.
“Liar.” Wolverine flicked his thumbs over her taut nipples. He groaned softly, his erection nudging at Ororo’s curved backside through his jeans. “Say you want me,” he encouraged huskily, pressing more fully against her.
Ororo‘s mouth parted on a breathless gasp. “I--”
“Hey, Storm, the door was unlocked--! Oh. Hello.” Ali paused just inside the door. Her face split in a knowing and devilish grin. “Oh. Um, I’ll come back…”
“No!” Ororo pushed away from the dresser and Wolverine. “Stay.” Her eyes pleaded with Ali. “Wolverine was just leaving.”
Ali nodded, then widened the door opening, waiting.
A deep growl echoed in Wolverine’s chest and rumbled to his throat as he passed Storm and made his way out her bedroom door. He slammed it behind him, uncaring that it was two in the morning, or who it might wake.
Storm raised one eyebrow. “Did he just growl at me? I mean, honestly, all ’Grr’ and shit?” She looked incredulous.
“I think he did.” Ali smirked at Ororo.
Ororo made a show of fluffing her pillows and straightening her bed. After a minute she glanced at Ali to find her friend still staring at her, that knowing tilt still on her pretty face. “What?”
“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Ororo Munroe. You spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill.”
“Fuck you and eighteen generations of your ancestors there’s nothing to spill. I come in here and Mr. Machismo himself has got the girls in his hands and your neck in his mouth.” Ali threw herself onto Storm’s bed.
“Let’s drop this.” Ororo said.
“Nnhn. No way.” Ali propped herself up on one elbow. “Is he a good kisser?”
“What? No!” Ororo waved her hand.
“That’s a yes.”
“Alison.”
“Ororo.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Ororo climbed into bed beside Ali. “He’s dangerous.” she said after awhile.
“So I’ve heard.” Ali seemed intrigued by that. “So, it’s true? He tried to off Cyclops to get into Jean’s Smurf panties?”
Ororo shook her head. “He’d already been in the panties. He wanted her back, I guess. No one really knows for sure what he was thinking, but I think he was trying to hold onto the only good thing he’d had in his life.”
Ali scoffed. “Miss high-n- mighty-my-shit-don’t-stink-Grey? That was the only good thing in his life? You sure he ain‘t just bonkers or evil?”
Ororo sighed. “I’d like to think he’s not evil. That having been twisted by years of cruelty and humiliation he didn‘t know what else to do to hold onto his happiness. That it was a brief lapse that caused him to betray Cyclops and all of us. Years and years of black-ops training can‘t just be undone... But at times….” Ororo shook her head sadly. “Sometimes I think I’m wrong.”
“Wow. Intense.” Ali rolled onto her back, folding her arms under her head. “So that’s true too? He was some kinda assassin.”
“The best in the world,” Ororo confirmed. “But much more than that. He’s a weapon. Born and bred to be the perfect weapon. Lethal and damn near indestructible.”
“Do you know how many he’s killed?”
“Too many.”
“Hmm…”
“Alison, why do I get the feeling this is turning you on?”
“Oh, because it is.”
“Ali!”
“What? Bad boys make me hot!”
“Get. Go to your own room.” Ororo playfully pushed her from the bed.
“All right.” Ali jumped up from the floor. “You should play with him.”
Ororo shook her head laughing. “No thanks, I know better. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?”
“Nah. She gave me scissors and told me to run.”
“Right.” Ororo smoothed her blankets.
Ali gave her a surprisingly serious look. “You need someone.”
Ororo rolled her eyes. “Ali…”
“I’m not saying Wolverine. But someone.”
“I have you.” Ororo laid back on the pillows. “Good night, Ali.”
“Yeah. G’night, Storm.”
In his room down the hall, Wolverine lay on his bed, his acute hearing picking up every word of the two women’s conversation. His claws extended and retracted in his agitation and undiminished desire. His cock was still rock hard, and he had barely touched her.
Seeing her in her pale blue satin nightclothes had aroused him to a fever pitch on sight, something that had never happened to him before. Not even Jean in her black and red laced teddies had gotten him that hard, that fast.
There was something about Ororo that drove him mad and excited him at the same time. Maybe it was because she looked like no one else on the planet. Maybe it was the way she met his gaze directly, head on. Maybe it was her killer body. Or maybe it was because he hadn’t had a woman in months and was about to explode. Who the fuck knew. All he knew was that he wanted her, and wanted her bad. And she wanted him. He had smelled it n her, faint but there, and he had felt her shudder at his touch. She was fighting it, but she wanted him. Content with that thought, Wolverine closed his eyes.
The sound of hammering echoed in the morning air and the whine of several drills sang out in dismal harmony. Ororo tied her red and white bandana around her head and tugged on her leather work gloves.
*BAMF*
“Guten morgen, Ororo.”
“Hey, Kurt.” She took the thermos of coffee he was holding out to her gratefully.
“Mmm. Perfect.” she sipped. “You do know how to spoil a lady.”
He smiled giving her a wink . “Where am I to be working today?”
Ororo pointed to the highest portion of the Danger Room dome. “All the way up there.” Kurt was the most agile man she had ever met and ran along the upper beams of the construction site as freely as she would run along the ground.
“Gutte.” He kissed her cheek before bamfing away.
Ororo unfurled the rolled blueprints she had carried with her, placing several rocks along the edges to keep the papers flat. She glanced at the fast progressing building and couldn’t help but smile with a bit of pride.
Renovations were going on all over the Institute. New dorm rooms, the new Danger Room, a new pool and even new course curriculum. Though Xavier’s was set up as a place of learning, due to recent events, they had all come to view the Institute less like a school and more like a training facility.
None of them wanted a war between mutants and norms, or with other mutants, but it was quickly becoming crystal clear that a vast majority of the rest of the world did not share that sentiment. The filtered glass of naiveté had been torn from all of them when Hank died. His senseless and tragic death changing them, and changing the way they viewed their jobs as X-Men. No longer were they messengers of a dream. No, now they were its protectors and the defenders of those that believed in it.
“What’s got you so occupied this morning?”
“Oh, hey, Scott.” Ororo greeted the tall man walking towards her.
“It’s progressing nicely,” Scott commended, taking in the nearly complete exterior.
“It is.” Ororo agreed. “It’s been a real team effort.”
“Hank would be pleased.”
Ororo cleared her throat. “I’m sure he’d be done by now.”
Scott chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re probably right.”
Ororo decided to change the subject. “What brings you out today? I thought you and Jean had today off.”
“We do. We got a break last night, and we have this evening off as well.”
She nodded, sipping from the thermos. “You guys deserve it after all you’ve been through.”
Scott smiled. “I think we all could use a break.”
“Now there’s some wishful thinking,” Ororo teased.
“The reason I stopped by was to thank you. I know you weren’t exactly thrilled with having Wolverine back on the team, but you risked your neck and brought him back to us.”
Ororo placed the thermos on the small bench she was seated on. “Just doing my job.”
Scott nodded, squeezing her shoulder. “Well, I’m off to take Jean to breakfast.”
“Have fun.” Ororo smiled. She watched him walk away and felt a swell of admiration. It took a big man to go toe to toe with Wolverine and an even bigger man to let the person that tried to kill him back into their fold, because he believed in the dream that much.
“Mornin’, darlin’.” Speak of the Devil.
Ororo groaned inwardly. She turned, and spotted Wolverine only a few feet away from her. He was dressed in a gray ribbed shirt and worn jeans. His thumbs were hooked in his belt as he rocked on his heels, watching her.
“Wolverine.” she inclined her head in greeting. Damn, the man was sexy, even first thing in the morning, with his unruly locks and grizzled cheeks, his muscled chest rising and falling with each stead breath. His wonderful mouth curled ever so slightly.
“Where do ya want me?” he asked.
Ororo blinked. “Huh?”
His smile broadened. “Where am I working today?”
“Oh…uhhh. How are you at laying brick?”
“It ain’t rocket science, ‘Ro.”
“Okay, then that’s where you--”
*X-Men to the war room.*
“Never mind.” Ororo tore off her leather gloves.
“He wants ta say ‘X-Men Assemble’,” Wolverine grinned at her. “I can feel it.”
Ororo couldn’t help but smile. “Isn’t that copyrighted by the Avengers.”
“Probably.”
War Room
“What’s all the hubbub, bub?” Bobby Drake asked, doing his best Wolverine impression, puffing out his chest and swaggering. The imitation was made all the more comical by the younger man’s lanky appearance and lack of bulk.
“Ahem.” Kitty cleared her throat pointedly.
Wolverine stood in the doorway, one ebony brow cocked and a nasty smile on his face.
Bobby froze, his smile forced. “Oh, uh, hey, Wolverine. Didn’t see you there.”
“You really ought ta consider IQ tests as a requirement,” Wolverine said to Xavier.
“I’ve been giving it serious consideration.” The Professor said matter-of-factly.
“So, what is the situation?” Cyclops asked, forgoing breakfast to take his role as leader of the team.
“I received a distress call just moments ago.”
“From?”
“Rogue.”
“Who’s Rogue?” Ali asked.
“Another former X-Man.” Kitty supplied. “Looks like they’re just crawling out of the woodwork.”
“You don’t sound like you like her,” Ali commented.
“Kitty and Rogue have issues,” Kurt said.
“Then I like her already.” Ali smiled.
“Enough banter,” Cyclops scolded. “When do we leave?”
“Immediately.”
“Is that filthy piece of gutter trash still with her?” Wolverine asked, deadly soft.
“No. Gambit was apparently killed in an altercation with the Juggernaut several weeks ago.” Xavier replied. “There is Sentinel activity in the area. Be prepared, my X-Men.”
“Hnh.”
“Uh-oh, Wolverine’s grunting. Someone break out the ice and the iodine. Somebody some where’s gonna need it.” Kitty said.
“Let’s roll, people.” Cyclops ordered.
“So much for your day off,” Ororo said as they made their way through the corridor.
“I’ll survive.”
“Where’s Jean?”
“She didn’t feel comfortable.” Was Scott’s only response.
“Can we gossip later?” Wolverine growled. “We got places to be.”
