Chapter Eighteen: Slowing Down
I'm the one who gets that look in your eye
And I'm the one who feels you tremble inside
I'm the one who steals those kisses from your breath
Sometimes it's so good at night it scares me to death
Thinkin' what would I do if I didn't have you
I'm as strong, strong as I can be
But oh, baby you leave me weak
~Toby Keith
By the time Logan returned to the boathouse, Ororo was awake. He sniffed cautiously upon entering the home, careful to ensure he would not surprise his lover. With her nerves wound tightly, sneaking up on her was a recipe for badness.
Engine grease had found a new home on his clothing, but he wasn’t concerned about that. The soreness in his limbs was cause for concern. Something inside of him still felt wrong. While racing and the thrilling chase through New York streets had not further tortured his battered body, he felt a little off.
What he needed, he decided with a roll of his shoulders, was a scalding shower and a good night’s sleep.
Ororo had a pot of cooking meat and vegetables on the stove. Beef stew, if his nose was right. Licking his lips in anticipation, he ducked into the orderly space and quickly lifted the lid. Thick gravy and slowly simmering veggies made his mouth water instantly. From the flour residue on the counter, he knew she was making her thick buttermilk biscuits. Oh yeah, that was one hell of a woman.
“Baby?” He called into the otherwise quiet house, frowning when there was no return call.
Quenching the sudden flutter of panic that seized his heart, Logan took several calming breaths. Her car was still in the driveway and he hadn’t seen her leave the grounds on the wind. There were a number of places where his voice wouldn’t carry. The shower, the weight room…she was fine.
Logan removed his soiled shirt easily as he climbed the staircase to the loft. No water was running in the bathroom, but the set of sweats he found in the hamper while disrobing said that Ororo had recently bathed. Her scent still lingered on the air; she couldn’t be far.
After changing his clothes, Logan jogged back down the stairs. Following the soft scent of his lover toward the back of the house, he frowned again. Though the telltale sounds of combat training and the tang of sweat were no where near, he distinctly heard Ororo humming. What the hell was she doing?
Without announcing himself, Logan twisted the doorknob open and jumped into the room. He yelped, startled when he was met with dense fog and a warm, restraining breeze.
“Logan! Get out of here!” Ororo cried on what sounded like a giggle.
“What are ya doin’? Let me go!” He replied, straining against the winds.
“No!” She laughed. Paper rustled. “Get! I’ll be out in a minute.”
Feeling a little playful, Logan raised a brow, trying to find her form through the blinding fog. “Ya got another man in there?”
Her indignant snort was followed by a gust of warm wind. Logan found himself in the hall, laughing a little at getting her goat. Obviously she was up to something clever, as usual. He leaned against the wall, waiting for her to appear so she could explain herself.
The fight with Jean hadn’t ended well. Logan was unsure if those two would ever truly reconcile. Though Charles’ death brought them together, the battle between them raged on. Scott and Logan spoke briefly about it, deciding in the end to simply wait the women out. Everyone had their demons, but flushing them all out at once would likely get someone killed.
Ororo came from the weight room a moment later, an impish smile curving her beautiful mouth.
“Whatcha up to, darlin’?” Logan questioned after kissing her lips.
She melted into his arms, making him fall back against the wall to support their combined weight.
“Christmas wrapping, of course.”
Logan’s mind halted for a moment and an echoing “Oh, shit” ricocheted in his head. Christmas was usually a huge deal at Xavier’s. Students and teachers alike went a little batty as they gathered up gifts for friends and loved ones. The tree would be decorated after Hank and Logan retrieved an enormous pine from the woods surrounding the grounds.
“You forgot!” Ororo accused, bringing him from his thoughts. “You forgot your favorite holiday!”
Scowling playfully, he tightened the grip on her hips. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
Ororo, using those feminine wiles no man stood a chance against, raised her brow and pouted beautifully. Logan’s heart tripped in his chest, he wanted to kiss that pout away desperately.
“You haven’t gotten me a gift?”
Clever bitch, he thought with an inward smile.
“Course I haven’t.” Logan fell back on male defenses by lying through his teeth. “It’s not ready yet. I had it personalized.”
Her blue eyes were suspicious. “Liar.”
A falsely innocent look twisted Logan’s features immediately. “Would I do that?”
She responded by kissing him while her hand snaked around to swat at his backside. The oven’s buzzer sounded a moment later, making Ororo yelp before she bounded into kitchen. Logan waited in the hall, gently tapping his head on the drywall behind him.
This Christmas would be a special one, heaven help him if he fucked it up.
~**~
They sat together on the porch swing, steaming cups of coffee lying half-full on the table beside them. A warm wool blanket covered the silent couple as a gentle winter breeze rocked the swing gently. Hank Williams droned on about his cheating woman from the stereo inside. The night was clear, affording them a wonderfully uninhibited view of the waxing moon.
Deliciously filled from Ororo’s carefully prepared meal and an evening free from stress, he cherished this stolen moment. His lover shifted beside him, snuggling further into the curve of his arm. Here and now, the outside world didn’t matter. There were no court dates for reckless endangerment, no blood feuds with Jean or Scott, no Sentinels or Magnetos. Right in this spot, they were just ‘Ro and Logan, as they had been for years.
Her long, lean legs were tossed over his, giving his free hand something to methodically rub. Her socked feet tapped the air in time with Williams’ guitar. Logan, his head leaning back, glanced down at the siren lying so innocently in his arms.
“Hey, ‘Ro?” he asked, keeping his tone low to not disturb the quiet moment.
“Mmm?” She replied, her eyes still heavy lidded.
“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” he said as the thought hit him.
“Mm? For what?” Ororo asked, not looking up at him.
“Takin’ care of me, after the adamantium…thing.”
Now, she did turn her head. Glorious blue eyes reflected the swelling moon as she regarded him quietly. He knew by the slight crease to her brows that she was trying to decipher his meaning behind the unexpected words. Was he serious? Or was this all a joke with a punch line to be determined?
Apparently, she decided he was serious. Her lusciously dark lips pouted slightly as she exhaled the breath she’d held. Ororo turned her head toward the beautiful moon before she spoke, the slight tension in her body giving away the pain she found inside of her.
“When I was waiting,” she began with a gentle tremble to her voice. “I prayed. I kept praying until I thought my brain would explode. I kept telling the Goddess that I would give anything to see your eyes open again, to hear your voice. I was so afraid that if I took my eyes off of you, you’d give up completely and drift away.”
Logan’s throat swelled with emotion at the clear tone that wavered just so slightly with the pain and fear she had kept hidden all these months. He pulled her a little closer, choosing to remain silent while she spoke of those terrible weeks. Thus far, this was the most she had ever said of those days in the med-lab.
“Henry said you couldn’t hear me, but when I was alone I talked to you constantly.” Ororo inhaled deeply. “I begged you to wake up, threatened you when you didn’t. I watched your blood seep through bandage after bandage and each one was like a piece of my heart slipping away.”
When he moved to speak, Ororo squeezed his hand, effectively silencing him. “But the thing I said the most, even if I didn’t realize it at the time, was I love you. I kept thinking that if you realized someone in this world loved you, you’d stay.”
“I knew you loved me, ‘Ro,” he defended. “We’ve been stuck together like stink on shit for the last few years.”
“I know,” she agreed. “But you’re so damn stubborn!”
He chuckled, bringing his other arm under the blanket to wrap her entirely in his embrace. She snuggled closer, pulling her body over until she was in his lap. A few more seconds of shifting saw that Ororo straddled his thighs and Logan pinned the blanket around them both tightly.
Her forehead touched his, making him smile as she spoke again. “You are my best friend, Wolverine. No thanks are required.”
“Thanks, anyway,” he whispered back. “I love you, ya know.”
The smile she gave him was tender, sweet. For a moment, Logan wondered how someone so innocent could love him. He reminded himself, rather quickly, that she was about as innocent as a fox in a hen house. Ororo could be naïve at times, but she had her own bad streak.
During his internal debate, she had closed the miniscule space between them. Her pliable lips were warm on his, the intimate contact bringing his body temperature up several notches in the space between heartbeats.
A resounding crash echoed over the lake, sounding much like a bullet having left the barrel of a sawed off shotgun. Instinct overrode thought and Logan’s lap was vacated in an instant. Ororo crouched low on the wooden deck. Logan popped up, his claws releasing instantly as they searched for the cause.
“Oh, dear.”
At Ororo’s words, Logan followed her gaze. A long, lean body was flying somewhat haphazardly over the water. Without question, Logan knew it was Scott. He heard the distant screech of a female voice.
His lover was two steps ahead of him. She threw herself off of the deck, the burning scent of ozone heralding the weather manipulator’s call of the winds. Scott’s reckless fall was suddenly controlled as Storm brought him to the safety of the southern bank.
Sheathing his claws, Logan followed the floating form of his beloved as she rushed toward Scott’s form on the dark lawn. Inwardly wincing at what was to follow, Logan approached the man cautiously. Whatever had possessed Jean to throw him from the mansion was likely to ruin his carefree night.
“Scott?” Ororo landed soundlessly beside Logan as they approached the man.
Wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, Scott stood, carefully adjusting the ruby-quartz lenses that protected his eyes. “Jean’s a little…touchy tonight.”
“Touchy?” Logan snorted. “She tossed ya outta the mansion.”
“Yeah,” Cyclops sighed. “Nice catch, Storm.”
The white haired woman was sighing as well, shaking her head so that the braids whipped around his shoulders. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Cyclops and Wolverine locked gazes. Hundreds of things were explained in those moments without speech. Males could speak as well as females without words and Logan understood a wealth of information in the guarded look.
“Hey, ‘Ro?”
As though she sensed something was happening around her, she arched a brow in Logan’s direction. “Yes, dear?”
“Why don’t ya get us a coupla beers and give us a while alone?” He apologized with a soft smile. “Please?”
If she was angry with him, Ororo never let it show. She nodded once, giving them both a once-over before she ducked into the house. Logan led Scott onto the porch as Ororo returned with a pair of Logan’s sweats and a pullover sweater. She handed them each a beer, kissed Logan’s cheek, and slipped back into the house without a word.
“Some woman,” Scott commented as he pulled the clothing over his shivering body. “Thanks.”
“She is,” Logan agreed, watching Cyclops sit. “What’s up, man?”
Scott sighed as he perched on the railing of the porch. “Jean’s a little upset still.”
“I kinda figured that much. Why’d she toss ya out?”
“She said that if I had so much more fun with you and Storm, I should live with you.” Scott’s face turned as red as his glasses. “There were other things that I wouldn’t mention in front of Ororo.”
Logan caught on immediately. “Jean’s a sick woman.”
“Yeah,” Scott nodded. “Pity I actually love her.”
~**~
Cyclops slept on Logan and Ororo’s sofa that night. Come morning, he seemed much more in control of himself, though staying up with Wolverine into the wee hours of the morning left dark circles under his eyes. They’d gone through a case of beer together, talking quietly while Ororo slumbered in the loft.
Once his newfound friend returned to the mansion, Logan escaped from Storm’s entreating gazes and sought out Betsy. He dragged the unwilling telepath into the Jeep, with promises of presents if she behaved herself.
For the last few years, Christmas shopping was a ritual shared with ‘Ro alone. Before that, though, Betsy was his common companion. This year, he decided, he would revive that old custom. Once his friend realized what he was up to, she was all smiles and smart comments.
Several hours were devoted to finding gifts for the students. They were never difficult, seeing as each submitted a short list to the teaching staff around Thanksgiving. Each professor checked off what they purchased for each, to ensure that no one doubled up.
Betsy had bags of her own shopping slung over her arms, while Logan carted around his own purchases like a chastised child. He really and truly disliked shopping, but Betsy’s quick wit usually made the procedure somewhat less painful.
Of course, the flip side of it was that he had to talk. About whatever she decided was important. So, he ran through the events of the previous evening quickly. Betsy sighed, rolled her eyes, and ducked into a music shop to look for something with Logan in tow.
“Jean doesn’t know where she stands anymore,” Bets surmised as they flipped through racks of compact discs. “She lost your favor, years ago mind, but she’s only just realized it.”
“I really couldn’t care less what Jean thinks.” Logan grunted, smiling triumphantly when he located the music disc Kitty wanted.
“You should,” Betsy said from the other side of the rack. “Or Cyclops will spend more nights on your couch.”
“I don’t have the time or the energy to mollycoddle Jean-fucking-Summers.”
“None of us do, Logan. So why do we always do it? Hmm?” Betsy’s arched brow gave her a shrewd look all of the sudden.
He paused, considering her question. “I really don’t know.”
“Because she needs it,” his friend said confidently. “Angel needs to be told things gently, Beast needs logic, Bobby needs discipline, Scott needs freedom, ‘Roro needs danger, you need home. Jean, unfortunately, likes negative attention. It’s become habit for this odd little family to just give it to her, like we give everyone else what they need.”
Logan blinked at her. “Why’d ya major in marketing? You shoulda been a shrink.”
She smiled prettily. “Everyone needs something, Logan. Usually these little quirks don’t bother anyone, but recently Jean has come face to face with hard reality. It’s making her show her arse in big, bad ways.”
“Why now?”
Betsy rolled her eyes toward the ceiling again. “Oh, I don’t know. Charles just died, Storm shagged her husband rotten, you stopped chasing her and she noticed “ finally “ and to top it all off, you and ‘Roro fell madly in love.”
“Why should she care?” Logan came around the aisle, narrowly avoiding a teenager head-banging to something blaring out of the headphones he wore.
“Because it’s disturbed her view of how the world should be.” Betsy’s tone was filled with sorrow. “She’s convinced herself that Scott should be the doting husband, you’re the bad boy chasing her, Storm is the asexual workhorse, and the rest of us don’t matter.”
Logan groaned, stopping to drop his head onto her slender shoulder. He groaned like a sickly child, making her reach up to touch his cheek gently. “This is too damned complicated.”
“It’ll pass, my friend,” she said sweetly. “Jean just needs to accept that things change.”
“Do you mind if I don’t hold my breath?”
They walked together toward the counter, each purchasing their discs and sliding the bags into larger ones to consolidate their holdings. Logan led the way through the busy mall this time, deciding it was time to bite the bullet and select Ororo’s gift.
Betsy was less than helpful when he admitted to a certain nervousness at the prospect.
“Well, of course there’s more riding on it now,” she said with a derisive snort. “She’s not just you’re best mate, she’s your lover! This first Christmas gift will set the tone for the remainder of the relationship!”
Logan scowled at her unkindly. “No pressure, eh?”
“What?” She blinked innocently as they entered the jewelry store.
At once, Logan was set at ease. Inside the massive shop were at least a dozen other men with puzzled and fearful expressions on their faces. Betsy was giggling all the while, even when Logan hissed at her to shut her mouth.
They meandered through the expansive shop, each peering into the clean glass cases at things they liked. Logan immediately vetoed the locket idea Betsy tossed at him. It seemed very clichéd and not something Ororo would think came from the heart.
Instead, he concentrated on diamond tennis bracelets while Betsy tried on a pair of amethyst earrings that cost more than Logan’s Jeep.
“Hey,” he growled at her. “I thought ya were here ta help me.”
She gave him an imperious glare in the reflection of the mirror on the counter. “That does not mean I can not have some fun of my own, mate.”
He grumbled, but decided to let that pass.
A beat later, the tall, older man who ran the shop appeared behind the counter Logan was standing behind.
“May I help you, sir?”
Deciding he liked the open, honest expression on the shop keeper’s face and the mischievous twinkle in his light eyes, Logan dropped his shopping bags and sighed.
“I need a gift for my girl,” he explained. “But something meaningful.”
“Meaningful?” the man’s tone was thoughtful. “How so?”
Logan smiled briefly. “Let me see if I can explain… We were best friends for a long time and just a little while ago, I got hurt. She took care of me, like always and before I knew it, I realized I was in love with her. Imagine my surprise when she loved me right back. Now, my friend over there, chick with purple hair…”
Betsy waved from the mirror.
“She says the first Christmas gift has to be something special. I don’t really know what to do and Betsy is too busy admirin’ herself.”
The man grinned warmly. “What kind of woman is your beloved?”
Logan paused to consider this. “Amazin’. She’s stronger than steel, but still a little naïve. She’s a teacher to the core an’ so damn beautiful it makes my heart hurt. She won’t take shit from me an’ I love her for it.”
“Hmm.” The man seemed to be thinking hard on this. “Where is she from?”
“Grew up in Cairo, but spent a lotta years in Tanzania.”
“Interesting.” He smiled suddenly, beckoning Logan to follow him. “Is she in touch with her African roots?”
“Oh, yeah. Somethin’ I love about her.”
“Wait right here, sir.” The shop keeper ducked into the back of the shop.
Betsy bounced up a moment later. “Lo-Lo?”
He snarled. “I’ve asked ya a thousand times to not call me that.”
“I know,” she grinned slyly, showing off the dimples in her cheeks. “Remember when Angel asks you what I want that the amethyst earrings have a matching anklet.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Yer bad.”
“I know, but Angel loves me that way.” Betsy adjusted the bags in her arms, peering curiously around at the jewelry in the glittering cases.
“Yer good fer him,” Logan observed suddenly. “He needs some mischief in his life.”
“Logan, you have no idea how good that man is to me.” Betsy said with complete sincerity. “I honestly think that if I asked for the moon, he’d get it for me.”
“That’s what we do,” Logan said without thinking as the shop keeper returned. “Anythin’ ta keep you girls happy.”
“Why is that?” His friend questioned as she eagerly awaited the shop keeper’s arrival.
Logan shrugged one shoulder, winking conspiratorially at the older man. “We have a thing fer smiles. Anythin’ ta make you girls smile like we done good.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” the elder man grinned, showing off his wedding band. “Forty-three years and her smile still makes me feel like a teenager on his first date.”
Betsy blushed prettily before changing the subject. “What do you have there?”
The man’s answering grin was just plain wicked. “Something that will have this nice young man in his wonderful lover’s good graces for a very long time.”
