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Chapter Nine: Here’s Lookin’ at You

“Rogue, get in the damn car!”

“No! Not until yah both apologize!”

“Come on, Rogue, I didn’t mean it, we’re going to miss the movie.”

Ororo lifted her head, listening to the shouted conversation that took place on the drive. Recognizing the voices of Logan, Rogue, and Bobby, she put the stack of textbooks she’d been carrying on a nearby end table and walked to the side door of the mansion, poking her head out curiously.

Logan was behind the wheel of her car, Bobby Drake behind him. The top was down, but they were both leaning out of the car, looking over their shoulders. Intrigued now, Storm stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her, searching for the owner of the female voice.

Rogue stood on the drive, her hands balled into fists and her eyes flashing with intent to murder. Deciding to intervene on her young friend’s behalf, Ororo made some show of walking over, encouraging Logan to hear her approach.

“Miss Munroe!” Rogue exclaimed, rushing over to her.

“What is happening here?” she asked, wrapping her arms around the pretty Southern girl.

“Those two…idiots are makin’ fun of me!”

Glaring at Logan, who looked ready to bang his head against the steering wheel repeatedly, she kissed the top of Rogue’s head, drawing on that oddly feminine need to look out for anyone female.

“What did you do?”

“Nothin’! I just told her she and ice-lover could sit on either side of me and enjoy the movie just the same,” Logan replied, his voice near growling.

“Logan!” Ororo chided, placing an arm around Rogue’s shoulders as she walked to the car. “That is not funny. This is a date and you are merely the chaperone.”

“’Ro, I didn’t want to do this in the first damn place,” he responded, puffing on his cigar.

“Do not swear at me, Logan,” she turned to Bobby. “And what did you do?”
“Why do women stick together?” the boy whispered to Logan.

“Not now, kid,” the older man shushed him.

“Ah don’t want to go to the movies now. Not with them,” Rogue piped up from her place beside Ororo.

“Come now, dear, you have been waiting for this movie for weeks. You should go see it,” Ororo soothed her kindly.

“All right,” the girl paused, wiping at her eyes. “Would you come with us?”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Pardon?”

Rogue shot both men a dirty look before meeting Ororo’s eyes. “Then you can sit by Logan and he’ll leave us alone.”

Storm’s heart rate attempted light speeds within her breast, making her clear her throat awkwardly as she regarded the young girl before her. She had no desire to actually see the film, much less in the company of two teenagers and a man who’s very presence seemed to make breathing an aerobic sport, but she knew him. If she insisted they go as a threesome, Rogue would come back in tears and Logan would be pleased with himself.

Though she knew he approved of Bobby’s relationship with Marie, in theory, she knew the practical side of it was still hard to accept.

“Please, Miss Munroe. He’ll behave if you’re there,” Rogue whispered.

Of course, the whisper did nothing to mask Logan’s acute hearing.

“Fine, I’ll stay home, have Storm take you,” Logan grunted, moving to get out of the car.

“No, Logan. You promised,” Rogue fairly screeched at him.

At that moment, Ororo knew the girl had won. Logan could not, would not, renege on a promise to Rogue. It was as though his self-worth rested in the simple fact that he had not broken a promise to her yet.

Ororo felt that scorching gaze land on her, even without looking up, she knew Logan was watching her. Again.

“I suffer, you suffer, ‘Ro.”
Mentally swearing and vowing to get Rogue back for this one, she nodded slowly.

“Let me tell Scott I am leaving the grounds,” she took Rogue’s arm. “We will fix Marie’s cosmetics as well.”

As they turned to reenter the house, Ororo distinctly heard both men groan in frustration. Once safely inside, Ororo turned to Rogue.

“What are you attempting here, Marie?” she raised a white brow.

Rogue smirked; she looked dangerously like Logan when she did that. Perhaps a bit of him had remained with her the few times she had touched him.

“Ah just wanted him out of the way,” she replied defensively.

“Rogue, I do not want to know what you are up to, but please, keep me out of it.”

“Ah can’t do that.”

The girl turned on her heel and walked to the bathroom quickly, leaving Ororo to attempt to pull herself together.

She hurriedly grabbed a coat and brushed her hair, ignoring the questions of Peter and Kitty as they played chess in the living room. Scott happened to be in the kitchen, so she explained the situation as fast as she could without seeming rushed.

She nearly choked when he smirked at her and said quite simply: “Have a good time.”

Once everything was taken care of, Storm slipped her coat on and collected her wallet from her bedroom. Rogue was waiting for her in the hall when she was finished, looking impatient.

I will find out what you are up to, girl, you can count on that.

She brushed passed her friend, opening the door and taking a deep breath. It was going to be a very long afternoon.

~@~

The film was interesting, from a historical point of view.

Logan and Ororo had settled in the very last row, sharing a carton of gummy bears and a bowl of popcorn in the dark theatre. It was not crowded, though a few couples and groups dotted the chilly room.

Bobby and Marie had taken seats several rows ahead of them, Rogue’s head on her boyfriend’s shoulder. They looked utterly enthralled with the old black and white film, though occasionally they would lean closer to whisper to one another.

All in all, it was sweet, from a puppy-love aspect. It was comforting to see two young mutants behaving as people their age should. Ororo leaned back in her chair, watching the film but not really seeing it.

Logan was bored. She could tell by his slouched posture that he wanted to be anywhere but here. He idly munched on the snacks they had purchased, watching the screen with a dead look in his eyes.

Though Jean had come back to them only this morning, things felt…normal. Expecting the world to shift, Ororo found the calm acceptance hard to swallow. Perhaps it was simply because they had expected her to wake, to return. She had been carefully monitored in the infirmary for a week.

Ororo’s joy could not be matched, even when she had so casually greeted her in the beginning. They had spoken from the moment their eyes met, using the mental link that had saved Jean’s life.

While she had not cried on the outside, Jean had sensed that she was weeping inside. They held one another for a long time, their minds speaking for them. Jean was home. Her friend, sister, confidante had come home.

Smiling a little in the dark theatre, watching Humphrey Bogart on the enormous screen, she gently reached out with her mind, as the Professor had taught them so long ago. A light, familiar push came back to her and she sighed with relief. She really was there.

“Please tell me that sigh wasn’t because of this movie,” Logan grumbled beside her.

“No, Logan. I was…reaching Jean,” she said quietly.

“What?”

She glanced about to ensure they would not be overheard before she replied.

“Years ago, when we first became X-Men, the Professor fitted Henry, Scott, and myself with a mental link to himself and Jean, so that we could communicate on missions. This was before we had comm. devices,” she explained.

“So, you can all contact Jean with your heads?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Must come in handy,” he concluded, taking a handful of popcorn.
“It did at Alkali Lake.”

“Guess so.”

Unable to help herself, Ororo went on.

“Perhaps the Professor will bring you into our link. It could prove useful.”

“Hey, no one is gonna to have any kind of link with my head. It’s my head,” he retorted.

Ororo hid a smirk behind her hand.

He turned back to the film, leaving Ororo to study his profile out of the corner of her eye.

In the week since he had come to her bedroom door, they had seldom spoken alone. Something or someone always came along to give her an escape. So many things came to her attention now, and she found herself watching him constantly.

The subtle grace he exuded when he walked, the way his cigar smoke lingered when he moved from room to room in the mansion. She could tell changes in his mood by which eyebrow happened to be higher or the line of his lips.

His eyes followed her nearly as often as hers followed him. That heated gaze, glinting with something she could not understand, had even invaded her dreams. She had a mental catalogue of him, of things he did that she had not noticed before.

Such as the fact that he drank his coffee with ridiculous amounts of sugar, that he always took a run around the grounds on Friday mornings, and did rounds almost out of instinct to locate any problems.

She found herself remembering that night at her bedroom door, the trust he placed in her, the way words came so easily around him. No man had ever had such an effect on her. She could feel him coming no matter who was in the room. Her skin would tingle and the hair on the back of her neck would stand up.

Logan shifted in his seat, his arm brushing hers as they “fought” over the shared armrest. The light touch of his bare skin on hers made her breath catch. Gritting her teeth against her body’s treacherous behavior, she looked away.

“You ok?” he asked softly. The concern in his tone made her toes curl up.

What is wrong with me?

“Yes, I am quite all right,” Ororo replied carefully.

“It’s almost over. Can we strangle Rogue for making us sit through this?”
She smiled at him in the dim light, the screen reflecting in his dark eyes. Vaguely aware that he was studying her face intently in the gray light, she swallowed thickly, her heart thudding in her breast, no doubt detectable by his acute senses. Logan paused, meeting her eyes and then leaned closer to her, almost imperceptivity.

“Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time.”

The words did not come from Ororo’s mouth, though she was surprised they had not. Glancing at the screen, she noted Humphrey and Ingrid Bergman locked in a passionate embrace.

When she turned back to Logan, he was sitting back in his chair, jaw set, staring at the screen. Ororo slowly settled against the cushioned back of her seat, willing her heart to slow down before it ceased beating entirely from the strain.

Not another word passed between them for some time. Ororo could not stop herself from peeking at him when she thought he was not looking. His lips drew her gaze almost instantly, the smooth line of them, his beard framing them perfectly.

She looked away, picking at the bandage on her hand. She had to be out of her mind. Thinking of Logan in this way…her friend, one of her closest friends in the last weeks. How could she even imagine…

As if sensing her distress, Jean’s telepathic presence nudged at her mind.

Not now, Jean.

Is everything all right?

Yes, I am simply…having a personal crisis.

Want me to butt out?

Yes, please. I will explain later.

I’m holding you to that, sweetie.

The presence was gone a moment later, leaving Ororo alone to ponder over the entire mess. She could not deny, even to herself, that a part of her was attracted to Logan. Physically. There was an animalistic quality to him that called to her own baser instincts. Unlike her, he could let at least some of those primal urges out. She wanted that kind of release. Desperately.

Music swelled from the speakers around the theatre, making Ororo look back up. She startled slightly when Logan shifted, making her drop the popcorn. Apologizing, she reached down to pick it up, scooping the spilled snack food neatly and pushing it back into the carton. She set it into the empty seat beside her, turning back to Logan to ensure nothing else had been overturned.

His face was inches from hers.

Breathing suddenly restricted, she met his eyes easily, wondering what he was thinking. Slowly, he moved a little closer, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her lips and back again. Her body was taught, her skin tingling as it did when he was too close as of late.

“Logan?” she whispered, unsure why she spoke his name in such a breathy tone.

“Yeah?” he replied, his lips so close now she could feel the warmth of his breath on hers.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Before she could reply, he pressed his lips to hers. A zing ran through Ororo’s body at the intimate contact, her hands coming up to wrap about his neck, every reason she should not be doing this screaming in her mind.

Logan’s mouth was softer than she expected, yielding to her at first, before he became demanding, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip as though asking for entry. She obeyed, though her head told her to pull back, parting her lips and allowing him inside.

She heard him inhale deeply, his rough hands finding their way to her back, pulling her forward until the armrest forced him to stop. Ororo could not even register the dull pain the action produced as the armrest met her still-healing scar.

His tongue delved into her mouth, searching for hers. She explored his mouth slowly, memorizing the crevices, his sharp teeth and the smoothness of his tongue. He tasted of cigars, popcorn, candy, and something she could not place. Logan’s taste. She whimpered softly into his mouth, not wanting to break away as his tongue massaged hers, his entire body telling her he wanted more.

Need for air forced them apart. She tore her lips from Logan’s, gasping, unable to speak. Their eyes locked as they had so often in the last days, weeks, as the voices from the screen finally filtered into her cloudy mind.

“We said no questions,” the cool female voice was saying.

A long pause followed as Ororo stared into the depth of Logan’s eyes.

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” came the male response.

This time, it was Ororo who moved forward. She wrapped her bandaged hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her, crushing her mouth to his. Strong hands wove into her hair, holding her in place as their tongues dueled for dominance.

How much time passed, she did not know, nor did she care. Perhaps it was the darkness of the theatre and her complicated emotions that brought this about. They could walk out of the theatre and never speak of it again. But by the Goddess, she would have this. A single memory of his lips, the low growl she received when she attempted to pull away, the warmth his touch flooded her body with.

The lights came on.

Logan pulled back from her roughly, hand balled into a fist as it normally did before he extended his claws. Realizing he had been surprised, Ororo took her hand and placed it over his. If he extended his claws, he would harm her in the process. He turned to look at her, nodding his understanding that there was no threat.

Bobby and Rogue approached the doors, hand in hand, looking as though they had enjoyed themselves thoroughly as they chatted quietly.

Taking her hand from Logan’s, Ororo swallowed hard again, closing her eyes to gain a hold on her emotions. She had not been kissed so thoroughly in a very long time and the effect had been unexpected. Before, kissing had distressed her, leading her to wonder what kind of disasters were happening out of doors because of her. Logan’s kiss had blown distress out of the water. Though her mind had been telling her one thing, her emotional response had been clear.

More.

Shaking her head, she opened her eyes. She could not detect any elemental anomalies. When her sight came into focus, he was staring at her.

“We need to talk,” he said gruffly, reaching for her coat.

She could only nod as they left the theatre, wondering what this “talk” would consist of and wishing she had listened to her head, as she always did, instead of her betraying heart.

~@~

As was common in their lives, they had not a single moment alone after the movie ended. Ororo could sense the tensing of Logan’s back as the hours wore on. They had been coerced into taking Rogue and Bobby to dinner, but the teens had insisted on sitting with them, as though making up for wanting to be away from the adults during the movie.

Choosing a fast food restaurant, much to Ororo’s displeasure, the group had taken a late dinner, the teens carrying most of the conversation as Logan and Ororo tried to not stare at one another.

Unlike the gazes that plagued their students, Logan bore his eyes into hers as though he were trying to take her apart mentally, to understand her, read her behavior.

As an animal would its mate.

Dinner ended when Logan had spotted a group of twenty-somethings whispering about them in a corner. Though it was unclear whether or not they had been identified as mutants, Storm agreed that leaving the immediate area was a good idea.

Once home, Henry had taken Ororo from the group, regaling her with a tale of ruins discovered in Tanzania. While she appreciated the sentiment, a part of her wanted to get away, to discuss the entire…kiss incident with Logan. As usual, however, Henry was relentless and manners dictated that she read through the articles with him, discussing the ins and outs of archeology.

By the time she had freed herself from Henry’s grasp, Jean was searching for her. Avoiding her friend, she had gone to bed, pacing her bedroom for the better part of two hours before her body demanded rest.

Even in sleep, the intensity of Logan’s kiss burned her. Restlessness overtook her, making her turn in her bed, staring at the door as though she could will him to open it. Sighing, she finally managed to sleep, though it was late.

Her dreams were not the sort that she was used to. Blurred images of Logan, bits of memories mixed with the old black and white film they had seen. His kisses seemed real, even though she knew she slept. Calloused hands roamed aching flesh, skin against skin.

The explosion shook the foundations of the mansion.

Starting awake, Ororo rolled onto the floor, panting for breath as she fought off the remnants of her erotic dreams.

She rushed to the bedroom door, opening it just enough to peer into the hall. Seeing no one and nothing out of the ordinary, Storm pushed the door the rest of the way, crouching against the wall to avoid any attack aimed at the entrance.

Keeping her crouched position, she crept into the hall, gasping when a hand moved to cover her mouth. The instant she recognized the rough fingertips and the scent of cigar smoke, she relaxed.

“Shh. I can’t smell anythin’, but it came from Summers’ room,” Logan whispered gruffly.
She nodded, his bare chest pressed against her back for an instant before Wolverine released her. Doors opened all around them, though Storm was intent on Scott’s bedroom door. She crawled across the carpeted floor to the door, listening as the others filed into the hallway silently.

Wolverine took up position on the opposite end of Scott’s doorway, sniffing intently at the air, one ear to the wall.

Scott’s muffled voice came to them all a moment later.

“Its all right, everyone. I’m opening the door, don’t claw, shoot, strike, absorb, phase through, or freeze anything, ok?”

“Nice and slow, Summers,” Wolverine ordered, keeping his eyes on Storm.

She nodded, prepared to pounce should anything not resembling Scott or Jean step through the doorway. Cold breath fell onto her shoulder, silently saying that Iceman had taken up position behind her.

Peter stood directly in front of the door, waiting to activate his steel mutation, while Kitty and Rogue hung back. For a moment, no one moved. Storm could almost hear the ticking of alarm clocks from several rooms down in the silence. Her eyes remained on Logan, waiting for his next move.

The door opened slowly and Scott stepped cautiously into the hall, clothes askew, hair disheveled, hands raised in surrender. Wolverine sniffed the air around him, nodding to Storm when his inspection was through.

Jean followed Scott a moment later, her cheeks as red as her hair, even in the dim light.

“It was my fault, I’m sorry,” she said as Wolverine stood from his crouch.

“What the hell was that?” he questioned when Kitty hit the light switch at his nod, making everyone cover their eyes.

“My telekinesis. I still don’t have that good a handle on it,” she explained sheepishly.

“We didn’t realize the entire mansion had felt it until doors started opening,” Cyclops added.

Storm shook her head, coming to stand before her friend, hugging her tightly.

“What were you doing?” Bobby asked, yawning sleepily.

This time, both Jean and Scott blushed. Rogue held up her hands, covering her ears and closing her eyes.

“Ah don’t wanna know!”

Soft laughter filled the hall. Storm kissed Jean’s cheek and turned to go back to bed. The others broke up as well, obviously deciding that they could worry about things in the morning. Assuming Jean had already spoken to the Professor, Ororo did a habitual headcount.

“Where is Henry?” she asked suddenly, turning back to the group.

Jean’s eyes went flat for a moment as she mentally reached out to their missing friend. She smiled an instant later, shaking her head as the contact broke.

“He fell asleep in his lab, apparently the “explosion” didn’t go that far or he is an extremely heavy sleeper,” Jean reported.

Another ripple of laughter sounded through the hall and the assemblage headed back to their rooms. Scott and Jean beat a hasty retreat into their bedroom while Storm ushered the others to their rooms, bidding goodnight to them one by one.

The light clicked off before Ororo made it back to her bedroom and she allowed herself to smile. Stopping in her tracks, she closed her eyes, concentrating on her hearing, her sense of smell.

She felt his presence before he touched her, his chest to her back again.

“We still need to talk, darlin’,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied. “Tomorrow, Logan.”

Ororo felt his lips on her bare shoulder, a brief kiss that sent gooseflesh racing down her arms. She tried to turn, to kiss him again, no matter the consequences, but he had moved away too quickly.

Sighing when she heard his bedroom door close, Ororo moved into her room and shut the door behind her. A hollow ache had formed in her belly, an ache that had Logan’s name carved into it.

Slipping back into bed, she ran her fingers over the place his lips had touched her, her body wound tightly once more. Heart racing, flesh begging to be touched, she tumbled back into the world of dreams.

Logan was waiting for her there.





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