Xavier Institute
Early Afternoon
The sun was high in the sky, heat radiating from the yellow orb relentlessly. Ororo was lounging against the bark of a particularly shady tree, reading and watching the students passing her by. She had some down time between training sessions and was trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to relax. She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh, her mind wandering to earlier days when she hadn’t felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“You won’t make friends sitting over here all by your lonesome.”
Ororo stiffened at the mild voice of Charles Xavier. Not wanting to, but knowing the obstinate man wasn’t going to leave, she opened her eyes slowly, “I’m not here to make friends.”
“Perhaps not. However,” Xavier said calmly, “I sense a growing fondness in you.”
Ororo rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the heads up, Yoda, I’ll be sure to squash that.”
“Attachments can be a fundamental part of survival, Storm. I would not dismiss them so easily.”
Ororo didn’t respond.
“I think you can find the purpose you are looking for here, Storm.” Again she didn’t respond, instead running her hands back and forth over the grass, letting the blades tickle her skin.
“I know that it was a difficult decision for you to join our cause, but I assure you it is a dream worth fighting for.”
“Let’s not confuse things, Charles. You and I both know why I’m here and it’s not to fight for some idealized dream of human and mutant peace. You said you would help me in exchange for my membership in club X-Men and I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain.”
Xavier frowned down at her from his chair. “I expect the same of you, Storm. Cooperation is important, and that includes becoming an active member of the team. Make friends. I already sense a protectiveness for our Shadowcat, and a liking for Dazzler from you. Why avoid your fellow X-Men?”
She noticed he hadn’t mentioned Wolverine and that was a relief. She tried very hard to keep her feeling s for him repressed even from herself. So, she found him attractive, who wouldn’t. The man was unbelievably sexy, the danger radiating off of him almost palpable, so what? So what if he was the only man who had ever made her heart skip a beat, made her breathing feel difficult? So what if thoughts of him kept her up at night? So what. Right? He belonged to someone else, and even if he didn’t she couldn’t…
Ororo pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head, fixing Charles with an icy glare. “You know why I don’t want to get close to anyone.”
He nodded solemnly. “Have you been able to sleep?” He asked after a moment, changing the subject.
“Not really.” She finally said.
“The neural inhibitors are not helping?” Charles questioned, brow creased.
Ororo shook her head. “They work fine. Different kind of nightmares,” was the only explanation she provided, “and don’t go prying,” she warned lightly.
“I would not presume to.” He held his hands up.
“Uh-huh. I don’t think there are many things you wouldn’t do to get your way, Xavier.” Ororo rose to her feet, picking up her previously discarded book. “Like I said, I will only be manipulated so far.”
“Storm, you owe me.” He said stiffly. “Do you remember how I found you? The condition you were in.”
Her teeth snapped together with an audible click. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, go make friends.”
Ororo glared at him. “Do not push me.” She strode away, but he had felt her resolve weaken slightly at the mention of her sorry condition a few months ago. She was still resisting his subtle nudges, still wary of him and everyone else. He frowned after her thoughtfully. Time to call in a favor.
Evening
Rec Room
Ororo strolled into the game room, her blue eyes resting on the green felt covered pool table. She could use a round or two. Word of the kitchen confrontation had spread quickly, and now people were even more curious about her. Her day had been filled with people watching her guardedly, whispering behind her back. One of the more bold X-Men, a young man named Warren with the face of an angel, and the body to match-literally, had come right out and bowed in front of her in that cheesy ‘Wayne’s World’ not worthy way.
Then there had been Xavier with his speech on being a member of the team. Ororo sighed with a mild grimace at the memory.
Currently a blue furry mutant, she recognized as Nightcrawler, was bent over the table, making a difficult trick shot with remarkable ease. When he stood again she watched his eyes stray over to where Kitty was playing ping pong with Bobby, a look of longing on his face. A crush?
“Nice shot.” She said approaching the table.
Nightcrawler looked around, and over his shoulder. “Are you speaking to me?” he asked surprised. His voice was gently accented German she noted.
With a nod Ororo confirmed that she was indeed speaking to him. “You’ve got some skill I see.” She tilted her head towards the table, referring to the shot he just made.
“A bit.” His glowing yellow gaze gave her a brief once over and his mouth thinned. He turned back to the table.
“What?” she asked, noticing his subtle disproval.
“It is not my place,” he said, lining up another shot.
“Well, I am making it your place. What’s on your mind, Crawler?”
“Why do you wear such things?” he asked after another long pause, looking pointedly at her shirt.
Ororo glanced down. She was wearing black capri pants with a long sleeved white shirt that had: Mutie!! splattered across it in crimson red. She looked back up at Nightcrawler saying, “It’s just a word.”
Nightcrawler looked away again. “It is a hateful word, that causes much pain.”
“If you let it.” Ororo said, leaning against the edge of the pool table. She got the impression he didn’t open up much, and she found she wanted to help ease some of the hurt she saw in his golden gaze.
“I was abandoned at birth because of the way I looked. Because of my demonic appearance. From as far back as I can remember I have had to hide my face in shame, stay in the shadows.” Nightcrawler said, almost angry. “It’s easy for people like you. You are beautiful and you feel you can mock us. It is not right, or fair.”
Ororo felt a slight twinge at his words, her own ire pricked. “I am not mocking you, Nightcrawler. Life’s not fair or easy, trust me I know. Nevertheless as cliché as it sounds, it is what you make it; and I for one refuse to let them beat me down with their hateful words. If ignorant racists want to call me a mutie, let them, I am one. I wear this shirt because I am proud of that, Nightcrawler. It is who I am. Do not think you are the only one who has felt the pain of harsh words. If I wasn’t called mutie, I was called nigger. Life sucks sometimes. It just does. That’s what makes the good things in it so great. The hardships we overcome help shape who we are. When you can rise above their petty words and foul turn of phrases and know yourself, and more importantly-like yourself, without the need of their approval, then you can throw their words right back at them.”
Nightcrawler was very quite, and Ororo felt herself blush a little. She hadn’t meant to go on a tirade, but she hated self pity, thinking it a giant waste of time and energy.
“An interesting point of view, liebling. Have you reached that lofty plateau of self understanding and like?”
“No.” She said honestly. “But I’m working on it.”
Nightcrawler smiled at that. He pulled another sick from the rack on the wall, tossing it to her with a flick of his pointed tail. “Do you play?”
Ororo smiled back, knowing she had just found another mutant to take under her wing. First Kitty, now Crawler, Ororo thought a little amused at her instant like to both of them. Xavier was right, loathe as she was to admit it, she was developing a fondness for these people. “Yes, though not as well as you. Maybe you could teach me a few shots, Nightcrawler,” she suggested.
“With pleasure. You may call me Kurt.”
“Kurt. I like it.” She rubbed blue chalk over the tip of her stick. “Oh, and, Kurt,” she began nonchalantly.
“Yes?”
“Whatever idiots told you that you looked like a demon were out of their minds.” She reached out, pressing one hand to his furry cheek. “You are beautiful.” And he was, she thought, with his silken blue fur and muscular build, mysterious glowing eyes and his dark blue hair falling over his forehead in boyish charm. He radiated sincerity and strength.
Kurt looked thunderstruck. No one had ever told him that, no one had ever touched him with such care. There was no disgust in her eyes, no unease at all. Instead, he could see deep concern in her blue gaze, and the offer of friendship She was unique, he mused, so unlike some of the others here who made him feel out of place, unwanted and ashamed, even though they were supposed to be fighting for the same dream.
“Your fur is the softest thing I have ever felt,” she said slightly louder than necessary.
Several heads turned in their direction, including Kitty’s, noticing Storm’s hand caressing Nightcrawler’s cheek, her fingers brushing his chin. Catching her eye, Storm said, “Come here, Kitty. You have got to feel this.”
The younger woman put her paddle down, walking towards them. Nightcrawler looked dreadful uncertain, but Ororo held his face in her hands, smiling a devilish smile. “You can thank me later,” she whispered.
“Hey guys.” Kitty said, stepping alongside them. She flashed Kurt a quick smile, and gave Storm an uneasy look. Having witnessed her stand up to Wolverine in the kitchen, Kitty was a bit intimidated by the other mutant. Not to mention that she was drop-dead friggin’ gorgeous, which all on its own was intimidation enough. Kitty’d had more than one run in with the beautiful and pampered Marvel Girl, not liking the way she had felt afterwards: Meek and inadequate, and Storm made Jean look like a daisy compared to wild orchids, or some other exotic flower, Kitty thought.
“Feel.” Ororo grabbed Kitty’s hand, placing it against Kurt’s startled face.
At first surprised, Kitty almost jerked away, but then realized how soft his fur actually was. “It’s like chinchilla!” she said in hushed awe.
Stepping away Ororo gave Kurt a conspiratal wink, and she swore he blushed beneath his fur. Smiling and humming Ororo made her shot. When it became obvious Kurt was too engaged with Kitty to further participate in their game, Ororo sunk the rest of the balls in rapid succession, pleased with her role as cupid.
Rec Room
11 p.m.
“You make friends fast.”
Ororo straightened away from the pool table, turning towards Jean Grey. They were alone in the rec room, most of the other students having gone to bed hours ago.
“You’re the second person today to comment on my friend making skills.” Ororo said blandly.
“Yeah, I saw you with the Professor earlier. And I see the way you hang on him, needing his attention, and now that fuzzy mutant kid. What’s the matter, Storm. Can’t decide if you like ‘em old or freakish?”
“Is there a point to this delightful visit, Marvel Girl?”
“You’re new, so I’ll spell it out for you. I rule this school.”
Ororo chuckled. “Is that it? Well, glad we got that straightened out.”
“You think I’m joking?”
“No, sadly I think you are very serious.”
“Let me make some things perfectly clear. Wolverine is mine. Scott is mine. Stay away from them.”
Ororo laid the stick on top of the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “Relax, Jean, I don’t want your men.”
“Like you stand a chance. I just don’t want to witness your embarrassment. I’m trying to help you, Storm. You will never be welcome here, and if you think you can fuck your way to acceptance you are sadly mistaken.”
Ororo took a sharp breath. This was getting damn annoying. She had tolerated the glares across the room. She had put up with the haughty glances. She had even tried to ignore the way Jean treaded all over the other students, especially the mutants not fortunate enough to pass for normal. But the girl was wearing her last nerve. “Look. I understand that you’re Queen of Mutant Central and the perfect little cheerleader for the X-team. That’s great. Just ducky. I don’t want your role, so back off, pom-pom.”
Jean smirked. “So long as you know your place, we’ll get along fine.”
“Know my place?” Her voice was whisper soft. “In about two seconds my place is going to be wringing your spoiled little neck.”
Jean took a step back. “I’m a telepath. A powerful one! I could give you nightmares that would drive you right out of your head.” She threatened.
Ororo felt a faint brush in her mind, like a spider web against skin. She smiled acid sweet, leaning towards the petite redhead, her eyes clouding white. “You wouldn‘t be the first.”
“Is there a problem here?” Dark, menacing growl.
“Wolverine!” Jean cried, relieved. “I was just giving our newest teammate some advice that will help her make her stay with us as pleasant as possible.” She cast Ororo a look that dared her to say different.
Wolverine materialized from the shadows in the doorway and arched one black brow at Storm.
Ororo didn’t respond, she hated this childish crap. Hated the way she felt right now. She just wanted to get away. She needed to get away. Wolverine caught her arm, his glittering black eyes holding hers. She shook him off, saying, “Goodnight.”
Once Ororo had left the rec room Wolverine glowered at Jean, who was slinking her arms around his neck. “What?” she asked innocently.
Wolverine removed her arms.
“Aw, come on, Wolverine!” Jean cried petulantly. “Let’s not let her ruin our night.”
“She ain’t ruining nothing’, kid. Yer doing that all on yer own. You seem to forget how good my hearin‘ is.”
“So I get a bit carried away. It’s only because I love you so much. Did you hear what people were saying today? They say she tamed the Wolverine. I couldn’t let that stand.” She trailed her fingers over his arm, along his shoulder.
“I ain‘t been tamed. Not by her and not by you, so stop trying, Red,” he growled pushing her away from him.
“Look, she needed to know the score.”
“And what score is that?”
“That you belong to me,” Jean said, instantly regretting the words leaving her mouth as he narrowed his eyes.
“I belong to no one, Jean. I am my own man.”
Jean laughed scathingly. “Man? Who’re you kidding Wolverine. You damn near took Scott’s head off this morning, all snarling and shit. You’re pure animal. That’s what you are. A fucking animal!”
“What in the world is going on in here?”
“Oh, Scott!” Jean flew across the room, throwing herself into his arms, sobbing prettily. “Make him go away,” she sniffled.
Scott’s hand rose to his visor. “We going to have a problem?”
Wolverine grinned. Since the onset of their relationship Wolverine had stayed with Jean for one reason and one reason only. It irritated the shit out of Scooter.
Not that she wasn’t attractive, because she was. Slender and feminine she radiated youth and he had been attracted to that. But she was far too emotionally high strung. Her rants and tantrums wearing on him, on top of her thinly veiled threats to leave him for Scott. He knew she was using him the same way he was using her. No love between them, just the occasional bout of mediocre sex.
“No problem at all, Cyke. She’s all yours.”
“Wolverine! Get back here!” Despite having demanded Scott make him leave, it was Jean who called out for him.
Wolverine kept walking.
Xavier’s Office
“That is the offer as it stands.” Charles said into the phone. “Yes, I can agree to those terms. Tomorrow is fine. See you then.” He replaced the receiver into the cradle before wheeling himself to the window. He looked across the courtyard, his mind seeking out Storm. Ah, there she was. He opened his mind further, picking up the remnants of her anger, a confrontation with Jean.
Xavier smiled slightly. Tough as nails, that one. He hoped his newly acquired employee would be enough of a reason for Ororo to stay with the team. Two weeks of negotiations, but the deal had finally been made.
He couldn’t afford to lose her. Not when so much depended on her. If this didn’t work he may have to resort to more extreme measures.
The Garage
2 a.m.
Ororo ran her hand along the sleek red paint of the Shelby GT. Muscle. Power. She smiled, practically purring. She loved automobiles, and they loved her. She had come here unable to sleep, her confrontation with Jean and a multitude of other things keeping her awake. She was desperately needing to unwind.
Just as she had suspected on her first day, the garage was full of gorgeous, expensive cars. She moved along the row of vehicles, her gaze appreciative of the beauties in front of her. As she moved closer to the rear of the garage she noticed a black tarp in the corner. Her mouth quirked up. Whoever the motorcycle belonged to may as well have painted a big sign along the side saying: Don’t Touch! Unable to resist, she grabbed the soft material, yanking it off, the fabric billowing in the air behind her.
“Oh my,” she breathed. The bike was gorgeous. Black and chrome, it’s body muscular and sleek at the same time. No vroom-vroom crotch rocket, or some bulky hunk of machinery, but instead a steel animal. Ferocious and wild. Instantly she knew who the bike belonged to.
Ororo grabbed the handle bars, swinging her leg over the seat, loving the way the worn leather felt. She shifted her body against the seat, getting a feel for it.
From the shadows Wolverine made a soft sound half growl, half groan. He had been watching her for several minutes now, surprised that she hadn’t noticed his presence as she usually did. She had instead been infatuated with the cars, her slender fingers trailing along their bodies almost lovingly, reminding him of the way her fingers had caressed his arm. She shifted again, the hem of her long, diaphanous, white nightdress riding up her thighs. Another growl built in his chest.
Wolverine moved silently across the garage, swift and sure, until he was directly behind her. She was leaning back, her eyes closed, arms extended out in front of her, and he took the opportunity to gaze at her face unguarded. Smooth skin, dark lashes casting shadows on gently rounded cheeks, straight nose, and the fullest, most delectable mouth he had ever laid eyes upon. So much for staying away from her, he thought, not without some humor. He could no more prevent his being drawn to her than he could prevent the sunrise.
She stiffened suddenly and he knew she had finally sensed him. Without turning Ororo said, “You’re a sneaky devil, aren’t you?”
Wolverine chuckled. “The same could be said for you, darlin’.” He moved so that he was standing in front of her. He had changed from the last time she had seen him from his black tee and pants into a faded denim jacket over a white shirt, well worn jeans and a cowboy hat, looking unbearably sexy. Ororo smiled at the hat. She hadn’t pegged him as the cowboy hat wearing type.
She swung herself off his bike. “Sorry.” She said.
“Yer up late.”
“Early.”
“Whatever.”
“I don’t sleep much,” she confessed.
Wolverine nodded, thinking of the nightmares that plagued him. Surprising himself Logan said, “Wanna go fer a ride?”
No.No.No.No.No. “Yes.”
Wolverine gave her a wolfish smile. He pulled off his jacket handing it to her.
“No thanks.”
“It’s a chilly night.”
“I don’t get cold.” She shrugged. “Part of my gift-- built in thermo stasis.”
Wolverine couldn’t resist, he leaned a little closer, his white teeth gleaming in the dark. “How about hot, ‘Ro? Do you ever get hot?”
Ororo swallowed hard. Good heavens the man was sexy. She didn’t reply, she couldn‘t, her heart was hammering too hard to hear herself think. Wolverine must have sensed that she wasn’t going to respond because he chuckled under his breath, mounting the motorcycle.
“Hop on.”
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