Not much had changed, Ororo noted as she and her three escorts made their way quietly through the long halls of the Xavier Institute. It was a little after 4 am and the halls were eerily silent.
Ororo ran her hand along the carved banister that ran along the hall. The walls were still dressed with expensive “one of a kind” artworks and intricate woodworking, while the floor was polished to a mirror finish, reflecting the warm amber glow of the security lanterns. The entire place was designed to be warm and inviting yet give an air of exclusivity and importance. It did just that. She wrinkled her nose.
She turned towards in the direction leading to Xavier’s office only to be halted by a firm grip on her elbow. “This way,” Logan growled, tugging her.
“Where are we going?” She removed her arm from his hand, rubbing where his fingers had pressed. She didn‘t want to like the small flutter that brief contact gave her, but she did.
“War Room.” Cyclops said with a cursory glance over his shoulder.
“Ah.” Ororo felt a twinge of humor at that. “So no cozy greetings and warm welcome back then? Straight to cold, impersonal work.”
Logan snorted. “What’s the matter, darlin’? Missing the touchy feely of yer pole?”
Ororo cocked a brow. “One could surmise from your tone you don’t approve of my line of work? That’s a bit ridiculous considering exactly who you are,” She leaned towards him, fingering the dog tags around his neck, her breath teasing his ear as she whispered, “killer.”
He snapped his teeth together with an audible click.
Jean sent Storm a look of silent approval. It wasn’t everyday someone made Logan shut up.
Logan inhaled sharply. His reaction wasn’t one of anger, as Jean speculated, but one of primal lust. Something about Ororo’s husky teasing tone and warm fingertips turned him on. Her close proximity stirred his blood, sending it thrumming through his system. He’d been aroused since seeing her dance and it didn’t appear that that state would be diminishing any time soon.
He had spent his entire time aboard the Blackbird visualizing ways to initiate the white haired minx into the mile high club. His teeth gleamed in the shadows as he recalled a particularly interesting idea involving her ability to float.
Ororo adjusted her bag over her shoulder, her gaze inquisitive as she noticed the glint that suddenly appeared in Wolverine’s eyes. The man was dangerous, she reminded herself. A fact that should make her cautious, but instead only seemed to draw her like a moth to the proverbial flame. What was it about him ? She wondered. He wasn’t overly attractive, she mused. She began to mentally catalogue all the things about him that were unappealing.
His dark hair was always wild and in disarray…although it did give him a dangerous, sexy disheveled appearance. Okay, moving on. He was barrel-chested. Stocky. He was twice as wide as she was. Far too wide for her liking…one of his arms was the size of her thigh, heck, they’d probably crush her if he wrapped them around her…which didn’t sound like a bad of a way to go out. Drat. Okay, then. His nose was a bit flat. His sideburns were too thick. And his mouth…his mouth was…sinful. Constantly curved slightly in a wry smirk, as though he knew far more than he’d ever let on. His walk was confident. Hell, it was downright cocky, may as well call it a swagger. His eyes glittered with an animal sheen that was both mysterious and compelling. Logan was gruff. Wild. Untamed.
She shook her head wryly, mocking her own futile effort. So much for all the things she didn’t like. Well, physically anyway. Truth be told, as far as physical characteristics went Logan’s undomesticated appearance struck an inner cord with her. He was immensely attractive in that right.
“Hey, Striperella, quit daydreamin’.”
Too bad he had to talk.
“You know, you should probably grab a uniform from the closet in the war room,” Jean mentioned, taking in Ororo’s tight tan leather pants and skimpy red top. “It’ll be more comfortable.”
“For who?” Ororo asked nonchalantly. “Me? Or you?”
“Me.” Scott said, clearing his throat and opening the war room door with his code.
They both turned, surprised.
Scott shrugged. “I’m a guy.”
Ororo laughed softly as she passed him to enter the war room. “So I’ve noticed.”
Logan growled in his throat.
Seated at the head of the long black marble topped table was Charles Xavier himself. Dressed in a dark gray sweater with a burgundy blanket covering the top half of his khakis, Xavier appeared calm and relaxed. Completely confident and unflappable. That made Ororo uneasy.
“Welcome back, Ororo.” he said quietly. “You were missed.”
Ororo crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to appear as composed as Xavier did.. “I can just imagine.”
“Please, have a seat.” He inclined his head towards the cushioned chairs surrounding the table.
“Thanks, but I’ll stand.”
“If you insist.” Xavier nodded, and Ororo thought she caught a small smile on his face. “How much have you been told about the situation?”
“Big hurricane. Potential disaster. And the usual runabout involving politics and money.”
“Ah.” This time there was a definite smile. “Well, then, it appears all you need are the specifics.”
“Those would help.” she muttered.
The tabletop flickered and a three dimensional iridescent blue hologram shimmered to life. “Two hundred and sixteen miles off the coast of Puerto Rico a SHIELD storm class aircraft carrier is awaiting your arrival.” An image of the large carrier spun over the table top. “It is manned by only the essential staff.”
“Skeleton crew,” Logan interjected, the blue light casting shadows over his rugged features.
“So to speak,” Xavier commented. “When we are finished here you will immediately be sent to rendezvous with General Fury in Florida and from there you will be taken to the ship. Once the hurricane is dispersed, you will of course be returned here.”
Ororo’s brows rose. “Returned here?” Like a piece of borrowed property, she thought angrily.
“Yes. I have made assurances where you are concerned, Ororo. Any other questions?”
She was about to shake her head when Logan’s sharp growl cut her off. “She ain’t goin’ alone.”
Ororo turned towards Logan, feeling oddly touched.
From the expression on Xavier’s face he hadn’t seen that coming either.
Logan looked up from the hologram, his jaw set. “She’s betrayed us once. What’s stopping her from doin’ it again?”
“Of all the--” Ororo glared, all good feeling erased. “You hypocrite! You are the last person that should be allowed to talk about betrayal. You were sent here to kill Xavier, in case you‘ve forgotten.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t make me any less right.”
“Indeed not,” Charles murmured thoughtfully.
Ororo threw up her hands. “What? I’m going to hi-jack an aircraft carrier?”
“Wouldn’t put it past ya,” Logan returned.
Ororo‘s eyes snapped. He smirked.
“Professor, I also don’t think Storm should have to go alone.” Jean said quietly. “What we’re asking her to do…” she trailed off. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
Logan perked up a bit at Jean’s tone. There was a sadness underneath and a subtle tension. He glanced at Ororo to see if she noticed, but she was purposefully ignoring him.
“Very well,” Xavier said diplomatically. “I will not order any of you to accompany Storm, however, I will not stop you either.”
“I’ll be just fine on my own,” Ororo stated, her tone defensive.
Scott stepped beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We all know you can take care of yourself, Storm. But you’re an X-Man and we take care of our own.”
Ororo turned her face away. She hadn’t felt like an X-Man in a long, long time.
Sensing a losing battle on that front, Scott switched tactics. “Could you just humor me? I’d like to think my inspirational speeches do wonders.”
“Who am I to let you believe otherwise,” she returned. “You want to come get drenched, be my guest.” She opened the closet behind her and pulled out a white tee-shirt and gray sweatpants. “Let’s go.”
Xavier nodded. “And Ororo…”
She paused.
“Good luck.”
She walked out the door without looking back.
Aboard SHIELD Vessel : “The Unforgiven”
Logan cricked his neck, watching with definitive male interest as Ororo laced her sneakers. She bent forward, her long hair slipping over her shoulders in a silken fall, her rounded backside lifting from the metal bench ever so slightly…
“Enjoying the view?”
Not bothering to turn, Logan grunted, “Fury.”
“Wolverine.” Nick leaned against the wall opposite of Logan. He followed the other man’s gaze. “She’s an interesting little weather witch.”
This time Logan did look at the taller man. “Care to repeat that, bub?”
Fury lifted one shoulder. “Meant no disrespect towards the lady.”
Logan still looked less than impressed. “What’s on yer mind, Fury?”
“You know she’s the only one of your kind, right? No other known mutant can manipulate the weather.”
Actually no, Logan hadn’t known that. He glanced back towards the benches that Ororo occupied with Jean. The two women were chatting quietly, so quietly he couldn‘t make out what they were saying. He returned his attention to the General. “So, Fury, what kind of accommodation are ya gonna get for this little outing, huh? Medal? Promotion? More tether on your leash?”
Fury pulled a cigar from his front pocket, holding it out towards Logan. “What makes you think I get anything for this?” he asked after Logan had taken the offered cigar.
“I know you, Nicky.” Logan’s teeth shone in a feral smile. “You ain’t all that altruistic.”
Nick chuckled. “Fair enough.” He removed a cigar for himself. “Let’s just say if your girl pulls this off, mutant affairs takes a giant leap forward in some important circles.”
Hearing Ororo referred to as ‘his girl’ made Logan’s gut tense. He ignored it. “And those important circles are the ones you wanna run in?”
“Something like that,” Fury acknowledged.
“Hnh. And Storm, what’s she get outta this?”
Fury exhaled a plume of smoke. “It’s not like you to care.”
Logan chuffed. “Who says I do? Maybe I just want in on any benefits.”
“Right.” Fury turned his attention towards the woman of discussion. “It’s all about what you can get, eh, Wolverine? She means absolutely nothing to you.”
Logan was unresponsive, his own eyes resting on Ororo.
“But stripping?” Jean shook her head back and forth. “I mean, wow. I never would have thought you would…y’know…”
“Take my clothes off for money?” Ororo questioned with a teasing tilt to her lips.
“Yeah.” Jean agreed. “Why would you?”
“The money was good.”
“You had a million dollars. You didn’t need money.”
Ororo stretched her arms over her head. “Most of the money was gone by the time I started work at Blazing Saddles.”
Jean shook her head again in disbelief. “I can’t get over that you spent a million dollars.”
“Easy enough to do,” Ororo said dismissively.
Curiosity getting the better of her, Jean asked, “What did you buy?”
“Hm?”
“What did you buy? Purchase? You know.”
“Nothing.”
“Excuse me.”
“I didn’t buy anything.”
“But you just said the money was gone.”
“And so it was.”
“I’m confused. What’d you do? Give it all to charity?” Jean laughed. When Ororo simply looked at her, Jean’s jaw dropped. “You gave a million dollars to charity?”
“Several charities and two orphanages.” Ororo said with a blasé wave of her hand. “Why is that so hard to imagine?”
“Well…I mean…”
“What?” Ororo asked, getting a kick out of watching Jean squirm a bit. “Once a thief always a thief? You just assumed I took the money and spent it all on myself? Hmm?”
“No. It’s just…Well, I…”
“I’m listening.” She crossed her legs and leaned against the wall.
Jean spluttered for a moment, then realized Ororo was on the verge of laughter. “You jerk!” She playfully shoved her shoulder.
Ororo snickered lightly. “I’ve been called worse.”
Jean sighed with a gentle smile. “I’ve missed this.”
Ororo’s own smile dimmed.
Jean tilted her head, her red waves veiling her face. “How much do you hate me for not telling you what Xavier was doing?”
It took a moment for Ororo to answer. “I don’t hate you, Jean.” She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a slow breath. “I even understand why you didn’t say anything. The Professor is your idol and mentor. I get that.”
“So, we’re cool?” Jean asked hopefully.
“If I live through this, then yeah, we’re cool,” Ororo replied dryly.
Jean bit her lower lip and whispered, “You will, right?”
“Huh?” Ororo cast a glance over her shoulder. She kept feeling like she was being watched.
“Live through this.”
Ororo smiled but it was forced. “I plan to.”
“I want you to know if there was any other way,” Jean began.
“I know.” Ororo patted her knee. “If you don’t mind, Jean, I’d like to be alone. To clear my head.”
“Sure.” Jean squeezed her hand. “I should find Scott anyway.”
Ororo closed her eyes and sighed. Focus, she told herself. It was so hard to do. They were closing in on the hurricane, she knew. She could feel the storm in her blood. It was singing to her. A siren’s call, beckoning her to unleash and taste freedom. Her entire body shook with feelings never before experienced.
She inhaled and exhaled in slow rhythm. Focus, focus, focus. Lives were at stake. Including her own. She had no idea if she could stop a full fledged raging hurricane. She’d never tried.
Her entire being centered around the planet’s inner rhythm, a small fact that she had grown accustomed to at a very young age. She could remember being nine years old and being upset and crying and then suddenly the sky cried too. She could feel it. They shared a sadness. It was such a great comfort to feel that connection, since she’d been so alone. Ever since then she had shared the Earth’s pains and tides, rages and joys. It was as though she shared a soul with the planet and now-- now she was about to go against the natural order and rend that bond apart. That terrified her.
“You look a little seasick, darlin’.”
She didn’t open her eyes. “I’m not.”
“Hnh.” Logan lowered himself onto the bench so that he straddled it, facing her. “Then it must just be fear.”
One cerulean eye opened. “I am certain there are other things you’d rather be doing than speaking with a lowly stripper like myself. Jean went that-a-way, big boy. Shouldn’t you be sniffing in that direction.” She jerked her thumb towards the door.
“Jealous?”
Ororo snorted. “Hardly.”
Logan placed his palms against the bench and slid himself closer. “Really?”
“Really.” Damn, her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “Yes, really,” she tried again, satisfied that she sounded indifferent.
“I seem ta remember that ya had a thing fer me,” he smirked.
Ororo flushed a bit, hating that she did. For months and months after Wolverine had first joined the X-Men, Ororo had secretly wanted him, but had known that he was hung up on Jean and Jean on him, so she’d avoided it. She’d stayed aloof and tried really hard to blend into the paper while he was around. A trick that she had thought had worked--until now. “I out grew it.”
Logan leaned forward and sniffed. “The nose says otherwise.” There was a definite rumble to his words and a darkening of his eyes.
Deciding she didn’t like playing cornered doe to his wolf Ororo straightened away from the wall and shifted position so that she too was straddling the bench. “As much as you’re hovering around me, Wolverine, I’m thinking maybe it’s you that has a thing for me.”
Logan cocked his head, his nostrils flaring. “I ain’t hovering.”
“Oh?” She edged closer. “Then by all means, leave.” Their mouths were scant inches apart, her blue eyes sparkling with unsaid challenge.
Logan’s hand moved of it’s own accord, reaching up to cup the side of her face. His thumb stroked her bottom lip and his eyes followed the motion as though entranced by it. “You really want me to go?”
Ororo’s breath left her lungs in a shaky rattle. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes?” His mouth curved knowingly. “Ok then.” He stood, releasing her.
Ororo jerked back, feeling oddly out of sorts and terribly lost without his frame taking up her vision. She ran her hands over her hair, smoothing it in an effort to calm her nerves. When she realized he hadn’t stepped away from the bench she glanced up. “Why are you still here?”
“Fuck if I know,” Logan growled, hauling her to her feet and slamming his mouth against hers in a kiss meant to punish but instead ignited.
Ororo’s eyes widened in surprise and logically she knew she should break away or knee him in the nuts again, but instead she wrapped her arms around his thick neck and kissed him back fiercely. Hell, she could be dead in an hour. He nipped her lip, making her moan. Or, she could die right this second, she thought as her heart tried to slam itself from her ribcage.
“Jesus,” Logan rasped, kissing his way along her jaw and chin. “You smell so fuckin’ good.” He licked her pulse.
Ororo’s fingers clenched in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. She jerked his head back and smiled wickedly before she plundered his mouth.
Logan growled, his eyes going black. She was challenging his dominance. He couldn’t remember a woman ever doing that. He lifted her and slammed her against the wall roughly, growling in approval as her long legs swept around his waist. He palmed one generous breast through the cotton of her tee shirt, snarling at the lace bra barrier.
Ororo gasped as sharp canines snipped at her nipple through cotton and lace. She arched her back to allow better access when she felt his warm hands scrambling for the hem of her shirt. This was madness…
Logan rotated his hips, grinding into her center, leaving no doubt as to what he wanted to do with her.
~Two minutes to intercept!~
Had a bucket of ice water been dumped on her it would have been less effective than the voice over the intercom, reminding Ororo of exactly why she was aboard this vessel, and the circumstances surrounding it.
“Put me down,” she hissed.
“Yer legs are locked around me, darlin’,” Logan grinned, panting. “I ain’t holdin’ ya.”
Ororo quickly detangled herself. She adjusted her shirt and pants.
Logan rocked back on his heels cockily.
Without a word Ororo moved past him and out the hatch, wiping her hand across her mouth as she did.
“Well, now.” Logan murmured to himself. “That was interesting.” He licked a drop of blood from his healing lip. The minx had bit him.
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