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Chapter Ten: Growing Addiction

“Logan?”

He leaned against the rail of the patio, quietly looking over the grounds as Rogue and Peter planted a few lilac bushes along the garden wall. The new sweet-smelling plants were replacements for those Ororo’s storm had destroyed several days ago.

Logan looked over his shoulder, nodding a hello to Jean as she came out of the kitchen to join him. Placing her hands on the rail, mimicking the position he had taken, she smiled fondly at their students digging in the dirt.

“They seem to be having some fun, don’t they?” Jean’s voice was soft, filled with the kindness he had come to expect from her.

“Yeah, don’t ask me why, but they volunteered for it,” he replied with a grunt.

“Maybe they wanted to be outside. Or they wanted to avoid laundry duty with Bobby and Kitty.”

“Option B,” Logan concluded. “It’s too damn hot to be out there planting bushes.”

“Hrmm,” Jean murmured absently.

They stood in silence for a few moments, leading Logan to believe there was something she wanted him for, but her mind had been drawn away by the teens a few yards away. He waited until he was sure she had drifted into her own thoughts before he spoke.

“Was there somethin’ ya needed, Jeanie?”

“Oh,” she startled from her musings. “Yes, the Professor wanted to see you in his office this afternoon.”

“Great. Wonder what the problem is now.”

“I’m sure if you meet with him, he’ll tell you,” her tone held a bit of humor, making Logan nearly smile.

It was his turn to drift into his thoughts. Thoughts that included a stupid movie and Ororo’s lips. Swallowing hard, he kept his scowl affixed to his face even as his flesh burned with the memory of her touch.

How or why it had happened he did not know, but he was sure he had wanted it. Sitting beside her, as though they had nowhere better to be, had been…comfortable. She wasn’t the type that talked during a movie, and unless he asked her a question, she was silent.

Ororo had kept him from sleep the night before, his mind going over those few moments with her in the darkened theatre until he had every image was carved into his mind. The taste of her lips, the sound of her rapid heartbeat, the ache in her touch haunted him. Had he not actually witnessed it, he would have thought her incapable of such brashness. But he had held her to his chest, felt the underlying heat she tried to control.

Primal instinct.

No matter how many conversations he had with himself about the incident, he could not decipher what had led him to kiss her.

Are you going to kiss me? Yeah, I am.

He turned his face a bit, keeping his profile from Jean’s sight as he grit his teeth. He’d not been sure of what he was doing until her breathy voice asked that question. Her tone, the undeniable change in her scent…that had been his undoing.

Not that he was ever the type to reign in his impulses. Hell, kissing Jean had been an impulse. That, however, had been with the urge to prove himself. To show her that he could be every bit the man One-Eye was.

To his extreme displeasure, the kiss had been one-sided. Jean had barely responded and he had sensed a tensing of her muscles during the whole thing. All in all, it hadn’t been an experience worth repeating, though he had no doubt she was an excellent kisser.

Kissing ‘Ro, on the other hand… She’d responded to him and then some. He had felt her control snap at the first brush of his lips to hers. Pulling him closer, her body telling him that she wanted it as much as he did, though his head was screaming at him.

In fact, he’d expected a sharp bolt of lightning, or at the very least a swift slap in the face when they had pulled apart for air. He had not, in any way, shape, or form, anticipated Ororo wrapping a delicate hand about his neck and yanking him forward for a repeat performance.

“Logan?”

Jean again. He turned back to her slowly, as though he had not been lost in his own little world. Her brow was knitted with concern, one pale hand touching his arm as she studied him with those cinnamon eyes.

Strange to think his response to her had changed in the last few months.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ok? You seem a little lost,” she questioned, turning her body to lean her hip against the rail.

“Maybe I am,” he said simply.

“Lost as you were when Storm and Cyclops found you in Canada?” Jean went on. “Or is this a different sort of lost?”

It took him a moment to reply, his eyes not leaving hers. He did not believe she was puttering about in his head, so he shrugged and told her the truth.

“I don’t know.”

Jean nodded slowly, seeming to accept this. A long silence fell between them, broken only when Jean spoke once more, her voice dropping as though meant for only his ears.

“Remember that night we camped by the jet?”

“Yeah,” he replied, wondering where this was going.

“I told you that girls flirt with the dangerous guy.”

Logan smirked a little at this, nodding. “But they marry the good guy.”

Her lips quirked into a half smile. “You told me you could be the good guy.”

Chuckling, Logan turned his eyes back to Rogue and Peter, whom were laughing together, covered in dirt.

“Stupid, eh? I’ll never be the ‘good guy’,” Logan told her, surprised when that knowledge seemed to actually hurt a bit.

Maybe everyone had been right about him all along. An animal that needed to be caged, held away from the good people of the world. All he could ever bring to the people he was growing to care for was pain and danger.

Before that train of thought could go any further, Jean spoke once more.

“I was wrong, Logan,” she said quietly. “You are a good guy, even if you’re not the typical good guy.”

Surprised, he turned his head to look at her. She smiled sweetly at him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Logan, unable to think of a response to such a compliment “ if one could take it that way “ he nodded. Jean patted his shoulder gently as she moved to walk away. She had gotten as far as the door when he found his voice.

“Hey, Jean?”

She turned. “Yes?”

“Thanks,” he said at last, deciding to leave it at that.

“Anytime.”

With another of her kind smiles, she moved back into the house, leaving him alone. Logan chewed over her words for a few minutes, wondering what had sparked the conversation. Remembering that the Professor had wanted to see him, Logan pushed off from the rail, heading in doors with a wave to Rogue.

Had Storm said something about the kiss thing to Jean? He didn’t think so. If she had, he was sure that Jean would have been a little more forward. Hell, she probably would have told him to stay away from ‘Ro. Jean and Scott had always been protective when it came to their friend. Not that he could blame them.

Closeness was something he was not used to, but watching the way the X-Men lived, worked, fought, loved, and lost together, it seemed reasonable that they were stuck together as though duct taped. They didn’t have anyone else. Their lives were wrapped up in one another, more so than even a normal family.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Logan headed down the hallway. Ororo had been locked in conversation with Scott when he’d gone to look for her earlier, to talk things over. The look in her eyes when she caught him in the doorway said that she wanted some time alone. He could understand that. He had lived over a decade of wanting to be alone.

He had gone as far as the corridor to the Professor’s office when he smelled her. Ororo came out of the elevator, a stack of what looked to be notebooks and textbooks in her hands. She juggled the heavy load awkwardly for a moment, her long skirt whispering around her as she moved.

“Need some help?” he asked before he reached her, upping his pace a little.

Her smile was broad when she looked up, nearly dropping a book in the process.

“Yes, please. I have suddenly gained the grace of a twelve year old boy,” she quipped as he reached her, taking an armload of her books.

“Thank you,” Storm said, rubbing one of her wrists. “Scott forgot his class notes downstairs, I thought I could carrying it all.”

“You never ask for help, do ya?” Logan asked, shifting the books in his hands.

Her eyes met his with silent question, as though wondering what he meant. Her heart rate sped a little, making him want to smirk.

“Not if I can help it,” Storm replied at last. “I think you would know something about that.”

“Yeah, guess I do,” he nodded. “Where did ya want these?”

She smiled softly, pointing to an empty classroom. “Scott’s room. He will find them when he needs to, I suppose.”

Logan gently kicked the unlocked door open, depositing the armload of books onto a nearby desk. The entire room was spotless, chairs stacked neatly against the far wall, rolling blackboard gleamed, awaiting the teacher and students it had been designed for. He had to admit that during the summer, Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngster’s seemed almost lonely.

“I have always hated the quiet of summer. I miss the sound of their laughter, the chorus of ‘Good morning, Miss Munroe’. I fear, at times, that they will never return,” Ororo said from the doorway.

When he turned to her, he noticed a slightly melancholy look upon her beautiful face. She gingerly ran her smooth fingertips over the polished surface of a desk, her eyes faraway. He had been right after all; she was a teacher to the core.

“I’m sure they miss you too. Ya know, all those lectures and tests they complain about constantly,” he stated, wanting to get that sadness off of her face.

Storm smiled brilliantly at him, coming a little further into the room.

“My first year as a teacher here, I was utterly terrified of speaking to them,” she said softly, her fingers tracing the dings in the desk. “Who was I to tell them the ways of the world? I was a child myself.”

Intrigued by her words, the lilt to her voice and the way her fingertips danced over the evidence of abuse on the desk, he stepped closer, wanting her to continue. The melodic quality of her voice was nearly as soothing as that enchanting scent. Images of their heated kisses flooded his mind, making his heart triple in beat.

“This was my classroom for that first semester,” Ororo continued. “My very first lecture included the beginning of the Civil War, brothers killing brothers in the name of freedom.”

“Hard subject matter,” Logan mumbled. He was directly behind her now, watching the play of light on her hair.

“Yes,” she turned to him, standing so close, he could hear her breath hitch. “Two minutes into the lecture, a girl named Samantha raised her hand. When I realized I knew the answer to her question, I felt this….calm wash over me and I knew, without a doubt, that this is where I belonged.”

Her eyes met his, revealing her stifled emotions for the first time. Fear, determination, and hope shone back at him. Logan reached for her, running his rough knuckles down her silky cheek. Ororo’s eyes closed for a moment and she leaned into the touch.

“I wish I had that,” he spoke in a whisper, drawing her chin up with his knuckle.

“What?” came the breathy response.

“A place where I belong.”

“Have you not found it?” she blinked slowly, bashfully looking up at him from under her long lashes.

Logan took one more step to her, leaning to speak against her lips, heart pounding in his chest. “Maybe…”

Talking about it suddenly seemed ridiculous. He wanted to kiss her again, to feel that intense passion mixed with peace that radiated from her. That confidence in herself, her certainty that she knew where her place was fascinated him. What would it be like to have that?

Just before their lips met, the sound of a throat clearing brought him up short.

“Logan, I sent Jean to fetch you nearly half an hour ago,” Professor Xavier said gently.

“I’m not a dog, nobody “fetches” me,” Logan shot back, turning from Storm to glare over his shoulder.

Five minutes, bub. Ya couldn’t wait that fuckin’ long?

“I apologize if my word choice offended you, but I do need to speak with you,” the older man said carefully. Logan could almost see him grinning from ear to ear. He knew exactly what he had interrupted.

“Yeah. I’m comin’,” Wolverine fairly growled.

“Thank you. I will be in my office,” Xavier pushed the knob on his wheelchair, rolling toward his office.

Once he and Storm were alone again, he turned back to her. Narrowing his eyes when he detected she was holding back a smile, he snaked a hand around her waist and brought her to his chest, smirking at her surprised squeak as he leaned down to speak into her ear.

“Meet me in your room,” he whispered. “We need to talk.”

“I will be waiting,” she replied, turning her face to kiss his jaw.

Before he could take it any further, he forced himself to release her. Meeting her eyes, he inhaled the fresh rain of her scent, smiling a little to himself. It was her smell that gave him comfort. Her smell attracted his attention.

She looked up at him curiously, but he turned to go before she could question him, leaving the empty classroom and stomping toward Xavier’s office.

~@~

“I am sorry for interrupting you,” Charles said from behind his desk after Logan had settled into a chair.

“What’s goin’ on, Chuck?” Wolverine headed off what he believed was a lecture in propriety when it came to their resident goddess quickly.

Charles had the balls to smirk at him briefly. “While I understand your desire to not discuss matters of a personal nature, I fear I must say one thing in regards to Ororo.”

Logan ground his teeth together. “Then say it.”

“She has a delicate heart, no matter how strong she is. Tread carefully,” Charles said seriously, all hints of humor gone.

“Or I’ll live out the rest of my days thinkin’ I’m a six year old girl, right?”

“Logan, I would not have the chance to attempt it,” the telepath chuckled.

Accepting this, Logan nodded once. He had no doubts in his mind that should he misstep in this…whatever it was with Storm, she’d find a way to kill him before anyone else got the chance.

“Fair enough,” he said. “What did you want to see me about?”

Charles placed his elbows on the dark surface of his desk, pressing his fingers together into an odd sort of triangle, regarding Logan carefully for a moment.

“Scott has told me that he wishes to spend more time with his English classes than combat training this coming semester,” the Professor explained. “I spoke to Jean and Ororo and they have agreed that you are the most qualified man for the job, should you accept it.”

Something inside of him clicked on at the simple suggestion. Teaching? Definitely not what he had expected to do with his life. But then, he’d not wanted part in this “war” between mutants and humans, much less on the odd side out. Defending humans who hated them? Showing kids how to control their powers, teach them the way things should be…that had not fit into his plans.

What plans? Before Xavier, before Rogue, he had nothing. He’d moved constantly, living out of the back of his truck, hustling money from overgrown idiots in bar room fights. That had been his life. Nothing of comradeship, friendship, the feeling of…belonging.

And it hit him. This was another of those choices ‘Ro was so fond of. A life with them, as one of them, truly or a life alone. He had heard people talk about the “moment” of their lives. Was this his?

“Logan, I know this is an odd position for you, and your help would save me a good deal of effort in locating a replacement for Scott,” Charles went on. “But, I must know that should you accept this position, you will remain here. Indefinitely.”

“I understand, Professor,” Logan began carefully.

“If you would like some time to think it over, please, take it,” Xavier said kindly.

Remaining with them, an X-Man, would mean tying himself to a place, to people. Had he already done that? There was no ache within him to seek out answers to his past. He had chosen Xavier’s way that day at Alkali Lake, with that boy in his arms. For an instant, Logan thought about where he wanted to be in the next year, the next five, ten…and the image of the school flashed into his mind.

He had already made this decision.

“I don’t need time. I’ll take the job,” Logan replied before he could second-guess himself.

In the center of his chest, he felt a resounding click. As though he had found something. Not all the answers, certainly, but he felt, for the first time in his life, that he was on the right path.

“Excellent!” Charles smiled warmly. “Of course, we will have to falsify documentation of your credentials, but I don’t foresee that becoming a problem.”

“Right,” Logan nodded, leaning forward. “If you could find me some…I don’t know. What the hell do you do when you teach?”

Charles chuckled, sitting back in his chair. “I do believe you are on speaking terms, at the very least, with every teacher in this school. As well as four students whom I believe would be willing to add in their opinion.”

“Good point. I’ll ask One-Eye what he was doing and then do the opposite of that,” he cracked with a smirk.

Charles shook his head, giving him a fatherly smile. “That is, of course, your choice. I would also advise speaking with Ororo and Jean, they may have insights as well.”

“Sure,” Logan agreed. He definitely did not have a problem talking to Storm.

“The semester begins August first. Remember, Logan, you are not teaching these children to kill, but rather to defend themselves. Should Rogue, Bobby, and Peter wish further training, as X-Men, that will fall on your shoulders as well.”

“Got it,” Logan stood, holding his hand out to the Professor. “Thanks.”

“No, Logan. Thank you,” the man replied, dismissing him.

Logan marched to the door, eager to speak with Ororo about…everything. He stepped out of the office, coming face to face with everyone else.

“Well?” Rogue asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Well what?” Logan asked, feigning confusion. It was far too amusing to watch the veins in her forehead pulse when he did that.

“Are you staying around to teach?” Bobby interjected, looking nearly as excited.

“Oh, that,” he grunted, looking about at the hopeful faces.

Even Scott seemed not so eager to be rid of him. Jean was smiling, as if she already knew the answer. Peter was his usual stone-faced self, and Kitty, though she wouldn’t benefit from his tutelage, bounced along with Rogue.

“Looks like I’ll need a room on the teacher’s side of the hall.”

With a squeal of delight, Rogue launched herself into his arms, amid the chorus of congratulations from the others. The girl pulled away for a moment, meeting his eyes.

“Is that a promise?” she asked him softly.

Recalling that day on the train, when he’d promised to care for her, he nodded. The final nail went into his coffin as he spoke.

“Yeah, that’s a promise.”


~@~

It took Logan a few minutes to shake off the others, whom all agreed that a night out was just the thing needed to celebrate the addition of “Mr. Logan” to the teaching staff.

Not wanting to solidify any plans, Logan pawned them off with “we’ll see” and made a hasty escape to the second floor. On the pretense of needing a shower, he ducked into the hall that held the adults’ bedrooms, veering sharply from his door at the last moment.

It was a few meters to Storm’s door. He could smell her through the solid wood, hear her moving about in the room. She had waited, after all. Trampling the urge to kick the door in and throw her over his shoulder as though he were a caveman, he knocked quickly.

Ororo’s soft footsteps paused before rushing over to the door. She opened it slowly, smiling at him in greeting.

“Hello,” she said, opening the door a little wider.

“Hey,” he replied, stepping into her domain.

Once he was safely inside, Ororo closed the door behind him. To his surprise, she locked it as well before turning to him.

Taking a moment to look about her room, Logan smirked to himself. She had little purple flowers growing in potted plants all over. Tiny porcelain figurines of beautiful women with long hair and robes decorated her dresser and nightstand. The entire room was draped in soft fabrics of pale blue and creamy white. It was saturated with her scent. Any tension he had before entering faded away the second he was near her.

“They are goddesses,” she said softly.

He took up a blond figurine, tracing the curved edges gently with his fingers. “Pretty.”

She snorted with laughter, moving to him and taking the goddess from him.

“That is Venus, the Roman goddess of love.”

“Ah.”

Ororo placed the figurine back in place, fussing with it for a moment. He smiled when her back was turned, wondering how anal retentive she was about her things. She looked back up at him when she was through.

“Logan,” she began softly. “I need to know…”

He reached for her, burying a hand in her hair and pulling her close enough to rest his forehead against hers.

“I don’t know, ‘Ro. I don’t know a damned thing. I look at you, I smell you, and all I want to do is hold you. I can still feel that kiss from last night, I can remember the way you looked at me. All I want is more,” he whispered his confession, happy to have that off of his chest. “I couldn’t even sleep last night, thinkin’ about it.”

Her smile was shaky at best, her hand coming up to cover his.

“I feel exactly the same way…the day I bought you the cigar, the smell of the shop reminded me of you,” Ororo said slowly. “But…”

“No,” Logan stopped her. “No buts.”

“But,” she inflected the word carefully. “How do I know this isn’t a reaction to Jean?”

Logan paused, remembering the months during Jean’s absence, knowing that her choice had been made. He had not truly seen ‘Ro until long after that. Until that day he’d seen her in the storm, until he’d pinpointed her scent and realized that she had been there all along, buried in his mind.

“It’s not. I can’t make ya trust that, but we’ve got to start somewhere.”

She nodded, moving away from him, her brow furrowed as though she were thinking very hard about something. He gave her a moment to herself, knowing he could not push. Whatever they decided to do, it had to be done together.

“Will you do something for me?”

“Yes.”

Ororo turned back to face him, her eyes betraying a hint of trepidation, though her scent spoke volumes of her actual emotions. That rain scent was tinged with want, making his nostrils flare.

“I have to make sure this isn’t purely physical, for both of us,” she muttered. “Physical contact, for me, can be…”

“A disaster on the weather, I know,” he finished. “What is it?”

“Lay with me, talk with me about everything and nothing.”

“I can do that.”

“Without clothing.”

Logan felt his mouth fall open slightly at her words. She couldn’t be serious. He had never taken physical intimacy lightly, though he had urges. Like many animals, Wolverine had always assumed he would mate for life. Women did not take him on carelessly, as his control was close to nothing in the throes of passion.

Theoretically, Ororo’s suggestion made sense. On a practical side, it was laughable. Yes, he knew that they both had something to risk in the physical aspect of things. They both kept everything close to the vest.

“Logan?” she asked gently.

“I’d love to, but it’s not fair.”

“Fair?” she questioned indignantly.

He tapped his nose. “I can smell ya, ‘Ro. It’ll be hell on my restraint, which is touch and go at best.”

She colored prettily, looking away. Logan watched as she mulled things over in her head. He knew that somehow, they had to figure this out. Ororo was not so secure when it came to men, of this he was becoming aware. Logan was more comfortable with women, but he had always managed to run them off or find enough faults with them to keep them at arm’s length.

Something told him that if he did it with Ororo, he would regret it.

“We can try, ‘Ro. If my…animal instincts try to take over, we can stop it. I trust you to stop me,” he said at last.

Ororo moved back to him, taking his hands in hers. “I trust you to stop yourself.”

Nodding, his hands slid to the hem of his shirt.





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