Hank savored the robust flavor of his coffee, letting it linger on his tongue before swallowing. He set his cup aside, facing Logan directly. “Most probably the same thing that brings the return of your nomadic self.”
Logan wiped the back of his hand across his chin, removing the sweet juices that dribbled from the apple. “And that is?”
Hank smiled. “Why the holidays of course. One always wishes to be home for the holidays.”
Home. Logan had never really had a home, and he wasn’t all the comfortable with the ideas of settling down roots in any one place. But hadn’t he already begun to? Hadn’t he left his room with clothes still in it and drawers still stocked, as if he had left planning to return? “Hnh.” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe.”
“So, tell me, Logan, did you find what you were looking for on your latest journey?” Hank asked mildly.
“Didn’t find much of anything. Most of the trails to my past are dead cold.”
Hank lifted his cup, regarding Logan over the rim. “And that was what you were searching for? Your past?”
Dark brows furrowed. “What else would I be looking for?”
Henry shrugged his broad shoulders. “Often times, in my life, I’ve discovered that when searching for something, it can frequently be found right under my nose.”
Logan gave him a dubious look. “Just what the flamin’ hell is that supposed to mean?”
Conversation was interrupted as the back door opened and a flurry of snowflakes swirled inside, moments before Ororo strolled through. She smiled at both men, stamping her feet to shake the snow from her boots. She stripped her gloves and untangled her scarf, draping it over her arm. “Mmmm…something smells delicious.” She closed her eyes, inhaling.
With a refreshed flush to her face and icy sparkles shimmering in her white tresses, Ororo was the embodiment of winter beauty. She looked fresh as the falling snow. She opened her eyes, catching his stare. Logan swallowed his piece of apple, grimacing as it lodged in his throat. “Coffee,” he choked out, fisting his chest.
Henry’s eyes twinkled with mirth. He turned away from Logan and offered Ororo a sip of his blend.
“No, thank you,” she said. “It smells divine, but I really have to get started on lugging the decorations down from the attic.”
Hank rose to his feet. “Would you like some assistance?”
Ororo nodded with genuine appreciation. “Thank you, Hank. I could use the help.”
“It will be just like old times.” The words were out before he could call them back and for a moment both Ororo and Hank’s smiles faltered.
Clearing his throat, Hank plastered on another smile. “Lead the way, my dear.”
At the swinging door, Ororo cast Logan a glance over her shoulder. “Well, don’t just sit there. Come on.”
Logan gave her a startled look. “What?”
“You’ve got muscles. Let’s put them to use.”
The attic was remarkably well kept, Logan noticed. Boxes and tubs were stacked and organized, and dust was at a minimal. Sometimes he wondered if Xavier had mind tricked all the X-Men into becoming mildly anal retentive about cleanliness. The place was always immaculate.
Ororo laughed, a soft throaty sound that distracted him. She was looking at Henry who had pulled a Santa cap over his head and puffed out his belly. “You look ridiculous,” she grinned, pulling the cap off. She tugged it onto her own head and pranced around the boxes, humming.
She, on the other hand, looked damn adorable, Logan thought. If Santa had a Mrs. Claus like that, no way in hell was he working in the toy shop with the elves. Shaking himself from his thoughts Logan began to help carry boxes up and down the stairs.
Twenty minutes and five trips later, Logan asked, “Don’t we have a group of kids we can use for this? Like one powerhouse Russian, for example?”
Ororo made a face, blowing a strand of sweaty hair from her eye. “They’re enjoying the snow. Let them play. Don’t you remember what it was like to be a kid?”
He gave her a pokerfaced look. “No.”
Ororo appeared momentarily contrite and then she said, “Well, it’s not like you ever really grew up.”
He glowered. She grinned.
“Where the hell is Blueboy?” Logan demanded, hefting another box against his hip.
“I think he’s taking a call,” she informed him absently, reading the label on one of the plastic tubs: Hedge lights. She set the tub atop a similarly marked box.
“Well, then I say we take a break.” Logan set his box back on the floor, squatting next to it, wiping his arm across his head.
Ororo stood up from her crouch, rubbing her lower back. “Good idea.” She took a seat on the floor across from him, her head leaned back against cardboard. “Welcome back, by the way.”
He inclined his head, acknowledging her welcome. “I was beginning to think you didn’t miss me.”
“Of course I missed you.” Her answer was simple and honest.
It took a second for Logan to digest that. “Really?” He doubted anyone had ever missed him before. Perhaps Marie, but it was different hearing Ororo say it.
“You’re my friend. Why wouldn’t I miss you?”
He chose not to answer that. “I can’t believe you do this shit every year.”
Ororo nodded. “It’s tradition.” She peered at him thoughtfully. “You’ve never been here for the decorating.” Logan had a tendency to disappear around the holidays. She got the impression all the good cheer and familial affection didn’t sit well with him.
“Never much got into Christmas.” He gave her an appraising look. “Didn’t really peg you as the Christmas type, either.”
“I’m not, at least not in the religious sense. Considering my faith.” She gestured towards the boxes of decorations. “For me, it’s not about anything other than family. A way for us to share in the beauty and joy of the season.”
“Hnh.” Logan draped his arm over his knee, his eyes watchful. “You sound like a cheesy card.”
Her brows came down in a disgruntled look. “You asked.”
“So I did.”
Deciding she didn’t like being scrutinized, she turned the tables. “What about you, Logan? Why come back for the holidays?”
“This is where I live.”
“Is it?”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means,” she stood, “that more often than not, this is a pit stop for you.” She picked up a small box, tucking it under her arm. “I want you to think about why you’re here. I mean really think about it.”
“You tryin’ to get me to leave?”
She shook her head, snorting. “No, Logan. You do that all on your own.” She touched her free hand to his shoulder as she passed. “I’m hoping that you stay.”
Logan watched her go, his insides tight. She wanted him to stay? But why? The only other times she’d ever asked him to stay was to help fight, but there was nothing to fight now, so why did she want him to stay? He didn’t know the answer, but he intended to find out.
