Warnings: None really. It’s pretty innocuous. There’s some language, but nothing that wouldn’t come out of a 20 year old girl’s mouth.
Logan’s bare feet padded slowly down the hall way, the hardwood creaking under his weight. He staggered slightly, still half asleep. The mansion was silent, everyone else having gone to sleep hours ago. Logan stopped, struggling to pull a black t-shirt over his head. When he finally yanked it down over his stomach, he let out a yawn that sounded more like a growl and stretched his arms high above his head. After dropping his hands to his side, he continued stumbling down the hall, all the while thinking back on how he got into this situation.
* * * * *
“Logan...” she whispered in the darkness.
Nothing.
She moved closer to him in the bed. “Logan…”
Draping an arm across the back of her sleeping husband, Ororo leaned in close to his ear. “Logan,” she crooned in her velvety soft voice.
Misunderstanding her intentions, Logan responded by turning his head to face her. “Mmm. Yeah?”
She sat up, putting nearly two feet of space between them. “I heard something downstairs.”
Logan groaned in response and, closing his eyes, buried his face in the pillow again.
Ororo remained seated but moved a foot closer. “Logan. Go downstairs. Check it out.”
Eyes still closed, he mumbled, “It’s nothin’. Go back t’sleep, darlin’.”
“I’ll do no such thing. It was not “nothing.” It was something.”
He was about to roll over on his side when he caught a wayward scent. His lip quirked up to form a wry grin.
Ororo couldn’t believe how he was reacting to a possible threat to their security. Smiling! “What?” she hissed.
Pushing himself up with his arms, he leaned in kiss his wife. Despite her concerns about an intruder, she found herself parting her lips, allowing him access.
His tongue darted into her mouth, deepening the kiss for just a moment before breaking away. “I’ll go check it out.” He kissed her on the forehead before getting out of bed, pulling on his jeans, grabbing a t-shirt, and heading out of the room. He shut the door softly behind him.
* * * * *
As expected, Logan’s nose led him to the kitchen. He stopped suddenly when he saw her rummaging through the pantry.
She hadn’t noticed him. She stood now, reading the back of a box of macaroni ‘n’ cheese. Shoving one hand into the pockets of her loose fitting, naturally distressed jeans, she retrieved a small pocket knife and slashed it into the top of the box.
Leaning against the door frame, Logan couldn’t help contain a smile that stretched from ear to ear. The knife was his, but the last time he’d seen it was over a week ago.
* * * * *
He’d come home to find white tufts of hair covering the kitchen sink and the surrounding countertop.
“Ya like it?” She said. “Thought about goin’ to the beauty college, but then I saw your pocket knife on the counter and thought ‘why not?’” She smiled, beaming with a sense of accomplishment.
He stared at her for a while, taking in the new cut -- from long and wavy to ear length and jagged in less than an hour. He grinned. “Yer ma’s gonna kill ya.”
She frowned. “But whatta you think?”
He reached forward and ruffled a hand through her hair. “I like it.”
She flashed another smile. He could have died right there.
* * * * *
She popped a raw macaroni noodle into her mouth, still reading the box, still facing away from Logan.
Beautiful, he thought to himself. His eyes felt to what her white wife beater failed to conceal. Even with those damned tattoos.
Two black lightening bolts painted the back of her shoulder blades. Surprisingly, he had been the one to flip when he saw them. The thought of some grimy low-life scarring his daughter with ink made his face flush with anger.
She’d tried to cover up her real motives for the tattoos, citing rebellion and self expression. Eventually, though, he’d coaxed it out of her.
You can’t fool me.
I saw you when you came out.
She had smiled sweetly, looking to her mother. “They’re for you, ma.” Ororo had nearly cried with joy upon seeing this permanent homage to her.
Macaroni box in hand, she made her way across the kitchen. Despite being nearly five eight, she had to stand on her tip-toes to reach the pots hanging over the stove. Her fingers barely graced the lowest handle. After crouching down slightly, she jumped up in the hopes of capturing one.
Crash!
Bang!
“Shit!”
She sat on the floor, various sizes of pots and pans scattered around her.
“What’re ya doin’, Gracie?” Logan said, pushing himself off the door frame and coming to help her up.
Grace jerked, causing a few pans to slide across the floor. “Shit, Dad! Ya coulda killed me!”
You got your momma’s taste, but you got my mouth.
You will always have a part of me
Nobody else is ever gonna see Gracie girl.
She held her hands up to his outstretched arms, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
Ignoring her comment, he repeated, “What’re ya doin’? It’s nearly two.”
She shrugged. “I got hungry.” Filling it with water and dumping in the raw noodles, Grace rested the pot on the stove and turned the burner to high.
Taking a seat across from the stove, Logan lifted an eyebrow. “Ain’t ya supposed t’boil the water first?”
She stirred the noodles in the warming water. “I think I know how t’make macaroni ‘n’ cheese, Dad.”
“Fair ‘nough,” was all he said. Comfortable silence fell over the two as Grace continued cooking her macaroni and Logan watched, his mind wandering to his daughter’s childhood.
* * * * *
“…Happy birthday, dear Gracie! Happy Birthday to you!!” Ororo bent over her now five year old daughter, gliding a knife through the cake.
With your cards to your chest
“Hey, Gracie girl, why don’t ya give Daddy yer cards now. Ya don’t wanna get icin’ all over ‘em.” He reached forward to take away her birthday cards.
“No!!!” she screamed. “No!!! Mommy!!!!!”
Ororo immediately dropped the knife to the table. “Oh, sweetie!” She cupped her daughter’s face. “It’s okay, honey. You can hold on to them. Daddy was just kidding.” She shot her husband a glare. His eyes widened as if to say “What?”
* * * * *
“Hello, father.” She drew out the “a” as if mimicking a sophisticated British accent.
Logan peered over the side of his newspaper only to see her eight-year-old form skipping lightly across the living room, ballet slippers laced up her calves. For the fifth time. In a week.
Talking on your toes.
* * * * *
She’d spent hours wrapping the gift. It was perfect. Even at the age of twelve, she knew exactly what to get her parents for their twentieth anniversary. They’d just have to wait 8 years to open it.
What you got in the box only Gracie knows.
She scrawled onto the attached card “Hey, guys. You’re not allowed to open this until your 20th. Haha. Curious, ain’t ya? Love always, Your Gracie.”
* * * * *
She looked across the lake as the sun sank deeper into the horizon. Her feet swung lazily in the cool river, the bottoms of her cuffed jeans getting splashed with every movement. She closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of cigar smoke.
And I would never try to make you be
Anything you didn’t really want to be, Gracie girl.
“Chuck wanted me to run it by ya. Told ‘im I’d ask.” Logan sat behind her, his own feet moving in the water the same as hers.
Grace’s eyes fell to her lap. “It’s just not for me, Dad. Bein’ a superhero? It’s your life. Ma’s life. But it ain’t mine.”
“You thought much about that? Yer life, I mean. What you wanna do?”
She shrugged. “I wanna help. I wanna fight the good fight. Just maybe in a less combatant way.”
Logan couldn’t help by smile at that. She was definitely her mother’s daughter, through and through. How else could you explain a kid of his being a peace-loving, tree-hugging, vegan? She was tough as nails, though, and with an attitude to boot.
Suddenly, her eyes brightened. “I had an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Thought about majoring in Anthropology. Ya know, study of humans? Anyway, I could focus on Africa. Use the degree to help combat AIDS and stuff.”
His eyebrows bunched in confusion. “How d’ya figure Anthropology’ll help?”
Getting excited, Grace pulled her feet out of the water and turned on the dock to face him Indian style. “Okay, well, the way I figure it, a buncha upper-class bureaucrats goin’ in an’ tellin’ these folks how t’live ain’t helpin’ at all, right? Ya need someone in there who really understands the culture “ their mores and values. Ya gotta know how they think t’know how best t’help ‘em out.”
Logan beamed with pride. He couldn’t help but laugh aloud about his daughter. Smart as hell, that one.
Grace frowned at his laughter. “I thought it was an okay idea,” she mumbled, returning her feet to the water.
He stopped laughing immediately, his heart breaking at the thought of hurting his daughter. He brought an arm up and wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “I love ya, Gracie girl.”
She smiled, understanding the meaning of his gesture.
“Love ya, too, Dad.”
* * * * *
“Mmm! Taste this, Dad!”
His brain flashing back to the present, Logan was startled to find a fork full of macaroni ‘n’ cheese being shoved into his face. He raised an eyebrow.
“C’mon! Tell me what ya think.” She moved the fork closer.
He leaned forward and hesitantly took a bite from the fork. It was surprisingly good for a box of Kraft.
Grabbing her bowl and moving to the couch, she explained, “See, what ya do is ya take out a handful of the noodles and add “ like “ a teaspoon of hot sauce. Delicious.” She turned the TV on and pushed PLAY. “Hey, thanks for tapin’ the game for me! Didja watch it?”
Logan walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. “Nah, thought I’d wait ‘til ya got home t’night. Didn’t know ya’d be out so late.”
Her eyes glued to the basketball game, she replied, “Sorry ‘bout that. Me and Jordan wanted t’finish up that movie.”
Life flies by in seconds.
You're not a baby
Gracie, you're my friend.
Logan tried not to react to the thought of Grace with a boy. Alone. In the dark. So what if they’d been together for over a year now. He’d never get used to the idea of another man having a place in his baby’s heart.
“Ya wanna make it in a little earlier next time, darlin’?”
“Dad. Seriously. I’m almost 21 years old.”
His heart nearly stopped. Twenty-one. As in, years old. Damn…
You’ll be a lady soon, but until then
You gotta do what I say.
“Be a little quieter, then? For yer ma’s sake?”
She sent one of her trademark grins his way “ a grin that mirrored her fathers. “Sure thing.”
Grace dropped her bowl onto the table before stretching out across the length of the couch. She leaned her upper body against her father’s strong form, settling in to watch the rest of the game.
Logan’s heart skipped beats as he listened to his daughter’s rhythmic breathing. Her breaths became slow and shallow as she sank quickly into a deep sleep.
He’d never known this kind of love before. Ororo had so completely filled his heart “ his soul, him “ that he didn’t think had any room left to love anything else. But then his little Gracie had been born. She was a miracle. His miracle. A creature no one else could have created. A creature he never believed he could create.
You nodded off in my arms watching TV
I won’t move you an inch even though my arm’s asleep
One day you’re gonna want to go
I hope we taught you everything you need to know,
Gracie girl.
He gently moved out from under her so as not to wake her up. Standing, he grabbed a quilt off a neighboring chair and draped it over his sleeping daughter. As he did this, he noticed a sparkle out of the corner of his eye. He looked down to the source. Her left hand. For the millionth time in Grace’s lifetime, Logan felt his heart all but stop. A simple platinum band, encrusted with three yellow diamonds (her favorite, he knew), fit snuggly to her finger. His mind raced. She’sgettingmarriedShe’sgettingmarriedOhFuckMyBaby’sgettingmarried.
“Logan?”
He spun around and came face to face with his own wife, standing at the bottom of the stairs wearing nothing but one of his flannel shirts.
Ororo crossed the landing and into the living room. She immediately walked into Logan’s outstretched arms and pressed her body firmly against his. “I was getting worried.”
Their eyes locked on each other. It was then that he could breathe again. When he looked into the depths of her blue eyes, he was at peace. Everything would be okay. Everything already was.
“I’m okay. Gracie’s home is all.”
She looked over to her daughter, sleeping soundly on the couch. “I can see that. What took you so long?”
“We were just talkin’. Thinkin’.”
Ororo returned her gaze to her husband. “What about?”
“Nothin’ darlin’. Just some dad and kid stuff.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” She stood on her tip toes to reach his ear. Her sultry voice sent a shiver down his spine. “Now why don’t you come back to bed?” She ran a finger along his cheek and down the side of his neck, swirling light across his chest, and ending with a swat on his backside. Smiling coyly, she began to climb the stairs leading to their bedroom.
Logan stole one last look at his daughter’s sleeping form before eagerly chasing after his wife.
There will always be a part of me
Nobody else is ever going to see
But you and me, my little girl.
My Gracie girl.
Author's Note:I was at the mall earlier today and I saw this guy with his daughter. She mumbled something to him and he goes “I have no idea what you just said…” I dunno. For some reason, I just thought it was really cute. As any woman can attest to, nothing is sexier than a man with his kids. Then, on the way home, I was listening to the latest Ben Folds CD (which is amazing) and there’s a song on it called Gracie. Anyway, those two situations combined to make me REALLY wanna right a “Logan as a Dad” fic. It’s a one-shot for now, but I have an idea for a series of songfics about Logan and Grace. This would be one of the later ones, with others being like…her birth, etc. Whatever. Let me know what you think of this one…it’s my first attempt at songfic.
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