An Intriguing Proposition
by
Alex SisterWolf


Disclaimer: All characters belonging to Marvel Comics are used without permission, but with no intent of copyright infringement, and no profit is being gained from this work.

Archive: With permission

Warnings: This story features mature themes and language, i.e. there is swearing and frank discussion of sex. Run away now if this offends you.

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"So Logan, do you want to screw or what?"

Scott, Jean, and Ororo stopped dead in the entrance to the kitchen, staring. Every mutant in the place was staring at me. Fuck it, let them stare. I'd had a really bad day and I didn't particularly care about their apple-pie morality.

Logan looked surprised. Actually, his expression barely changed at all, but his eyes widened slightly and I could smell heightened adrenaline levels in his sweat. "Charmin' offer, darlin', but I'm kinda used to bein' the one doin' the asking."

"Listen, short man, this is a one-time-only offer. Follow me or don't, it's your call." My tail lashed back and forth as I walked out the back door.

The day hadn't started out too badly. My team and I were in New England for a week learning some new techniques from the big boys in the biz. The mutant-super-hero biz, that is. My team leader, Ron, thought we could really benefit from a week of intensive training with the X-Men. We're based out of the Twin Cities, where threats to world safety pop up every other day. Yeah, right. The most exciting thing we'd been involved with so far was preventing a riot during the Northwest Airlines strike. Whoopee.

It's more than just our geographical location that keeps us from making CNN. We're just not all that impressive as a team. Ron's our leader, but I think he's taken too many seminars on effective management. He keeps on talking about synergy and gestalt and shit like that. His power's okay, I guesshe throws silly string out of his hands, and he can make it burn or harden and stuff. But the bottom line is, he's generating silly string. Not exactly something that makes arch-villains turn tail and run. Sue has the power of withering sarcasm. Literally. Her sarcastic comments do actual physical damage. Plus she's a bitch. Figuratively, I mean. Mike's our computer genius and telekinetic. Too bad he mostly uses his powers to play Doom. Amy can manipulate probability. A little bit. When it works, it's cool, but I think it works about a third of the time. And me?

Name's Vyaghri. It's okay, no one else can pronounce it either. Call me Vy. I'm the muscle of the team. Part of the time. When I'm not being the muscle of the team, I'm pretty average-looking. Medium height, dark hair and eyes, around thirty, female. My other form's a lot more eye-catching. Yep, I'm one of those shape-shifters, but kinda limited. I only shift into one forma big bipedal tiger-woman. Nifty, huh? Guess what my code name is. Yeah, you guessed it. Tigress. Ron's a little low on originality. And, to give him credit, most of the really cool code names have already been used.

Oh, and don't even ask about the whole team name thing. Ron nixed all the helpful suggestions I made: the Silly String Brigade, the Fabulous Freaking Five, Mutants You've Never Heard Of. I was really fond of that last one, but Ron's got no imagination. Instead we're the Twin Cities Mutant Coalition. It sounds like we're a bunch of stockbrokers, for godsake.

So what led me to proposition Mr. Short, Hairy, and Full of Attitude? Ack. Okay, like I said, the day started out okay. We'd been in New England for two days, long enough to start getting comfortable around our famous hosts. That morning we tried out the Danger Room for the first time, and wow was that fun! Normally I'm too worried about hurting innocent bystanders, so I don't really cut loose in my furry form, but I was having fun clawing and smashing my way through robots. That's when I first noticed that Logan was having problems keeping his eyes off me. He hadn't really paid much attention to me the day before, but I'd been in my human form. Now that I was a six-and-a-half foot tall, tiger-striped, furry, clawed killing machine, he seemed a hell of a lot more interested in me. Men.

After the program was done, I was standing around, shooting the shit with Mike and Amy. I was still in tiger-woman form. It's too difficult to shift back into human when I've got that much adrenaline running through my system. What felt like a pleasant buzz in furry form would feel like I'd drunk about ten pots of coffee in my human form. Plus my clothes generally don't survive the whole shifting experience too well. So there I was, joking around with the other two, my tail still twitching like mad, when he walks up to us. I'd noticed that he wasn't really social the day before. Didn't talk much beyond grunts and occasional macho posturing. So Mike and Amy and I said hey and started talking about the program again. He stood there listening for a few minutes and then said something insulting about our taking the program on "kiddie level."

So I asked him what the hell his problem is. Normally I'm not all that confrontational, but I had a lot of adrenaline running through me.

"No problem, darlin'. Just that program's a hell of a lot harder to beat when it's not set on easy." He was chomping on a cigar, disgusting habit, and eyeing me up and down like he wished he could see through the fur. That and the condescending "darlin'" really pissed me off. So I hit him.

Well, if you've heard of Wolverine at all, I'm sure you won't be surprised that he won our little tussle. Not without me getting in a few good punches, but in the end, it was my face getting pressed into the ground and his knee in my back. The other X-Men yelled at him and tried to make him apologize to me. I think I confused them by saying no, I'd thrown the first punch, he didn't need to apologize. Not that I felt any regret for punching the arrogant little bastard.

So I wasn't in the best of moods when I went back to my room to freshen up before lunch. I showered and laid down on the bed, picking up the phone to check my voicemail.

I knew his voice immediately, even though the tone was cold and rather distant. "I've got a box of your stuff you might want to pick up. Could you come by to pick it up and drop off any of my things you might still have? Thanks."

"Fuck." I lay there and tried not to cry. There was no reason to cry. I'd known this was coming. We hadn't talked in over a month. It was over. It had been over for a while. Four years of my life, four years spent putting up with his bullshit, and that's what I get. Nothing.

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter" Despite my efforts, I was starting to cry. I curled up around a pillow and bawled.

Eventually, the storm passed. I felt empty. There was no way to fix this. No miracle solution. What was once tender and loving about our relationship had dried up and was gone.

Feeling hollow and fragile, I washed my face with cold water. My eyes always swell up when I cry. I tried my best to cover up the red splotches around my eyes with base, put on a clean outfit, and took a deep breath. Time to go downstairs for lunch.

Lunch was crowded and chaotic enough that I hoped I would be able to hide how upset I was from the others. That worked pretty well, until Logan managed to piss me off. Again.

He'd been ignoring me throughout lunch, which suited me just fine. After everyone was done eating and we'd carried plates into the kitchen, I wandered away from the commotion of clean-up, into the empty hallway. I let out a sigh that was more like a sob, then nearly jumped out of my skin as I heard Logan say, "You still sore about this morning?"

I spun around. He'd followed me into the hallway and was lighting another of his repulsive cigars. "No, I am not still 'sore' about this morning. You were an asshole, but that appears to be your usual style, so I've put it behind me." I turned to go.

"You always overreact like that?"

I'd like to be able to say that I'm calm, cool, and collected at all times, that I never, ever overreact. However, that would be a lie.

I turned back to face him, shifting into furry form. Normally, I was a little shorter than him, so it was nice to tower over him. I shrugged elaborately, purring, "You always an obnoxious little fucker?"

He stepped closer, snarling. "If you got a problem with me, just let me know where and when, darlin'. I'm always ready for some ass-kickin'."

The kitchen door opened. Mike took a look at the situation and said, "Uh, guys-"

I ignored him. My tail lashing, I growled, "You wish, short man. You've been undressing me with your eyes all morning."

"Uh, Scott, Jean, Ororo, could you give me a hand?" Mike called into the kitchen.

Logan stepped even closer, grinning nastily. "It's hard not to when all you're wearin' is fur." I could smell how turned on he was. Actually, so was I.

It was then that I said the words that stopped the rest of his team-mates in their tracks. "So Logan, do you want to screw or what?"

I wasn't sure, stalking away from the mansion and toward the woods, whether he would follow or not. I was hoping so, I admit it. So I wasn't overly surprised when about ten feet into the woods I was hit by a flying tackle. I rolled with it and flipped, ending up straddling him.

I'll let your imagination fill in the blanks. I'm not an exhibitionist.

By the time we walked back to the mansion, it was nightfall. I was back in human form and wearing nothing much more than Logan's flannel shirt. Hey, it covered all the important parts. We came in through the back door, surprising Bobby, who was heading toward the back stairs with a box of twinkies and a 2-liter of pop. He blushed, muttered, "Hi," and ducked through the doorway.

Logan headed upstairs and I headed for the kitchen. I was starving. I heard Ororo saying, "Maybe she's just what he needs" as I walked through the door. She stopped as soon as she saw me and exchanged significant glances with Jean.

I excavated sandwich makings out of the overstuffed fridge and put together a ham, beef, turkey, and provolone on rye with Dijon mustard, oh yeah. The strained silence continued until I turned around, finished with making my sandwich, and said, "You don't have to stop just for me."

Jean pursed her lips and exchanged more significant glances with Ororo. She cleared her throat and said, "Ororo and I were discussing you and Logan, I admit. We are happy that you two have hit it off" I almost snorted milk out my nose at that one. "However, we do have concerns that you may have leaped into a relationship a little prematurely."

I sighed. "Jean, you're coming at this the wrong way. There is no relationship."

She flushed a little and said, "We assumed"

"That I and Logan had sex. That's correct. We had sex. We had lots of sex, and it was lots of fun for both of us. But please do pass this on to all your teammates, and I will tell my teammates as well, so that there aren't any misconceptions running around: there is no relationship. Logan and I are two consenting adults who had an afternoon of meaningless sex. Please do not attempt to build this up into more than it is. Thank you." Taking my sandwich and glass of milk, I left the two stunned women sitting there speechless.

After finishing my meal, I lay down on my bed, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. My body felt tired and thoroughly satiated. But I still felt empty. At least the urge to cry and scream and smash things was gone. I felt numb. There was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say. Four years of my life, and it was over, just like that.

Next morning came entirely too quickly. I gathered my teammates together and had what I termed the Sexgate Briefing. I apologized for acting in a less than professional manner. Ron was too embarrassed by the whole thing to really rake me over the coals. No, it was the other two female members of the team who proceeded to interrogate me after the meeting.

"So, how was he?" Sue's pale blue eyes glittered with rapacious curiosity.

"I am not telling you that." There were limits.

She looked me up and down and said, "That good, huh?" with a conspiratorial smile, then walked out of the room quickly before I could beat the hell out of her.

Amy frowned after her and asked me, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Cause you looked upset yesterday at lunch."

Count on Amy to notice. "I got a call from Stephen."

"Oh. Bad?"

"Yeah. He wants me to pick up my stuff."

"The exchange of stuff call, huh. I'm sorry." She hugged me, sympathy gleaming in her soft green eyes.

"I'll be fine. It's been over for a while." Pain threatened to leak through my numbness.

"So this thing with Logan, it was just a getting over Stephen thing?"

"Yeah. Quick roll in the hay to help me forget." My tough faÁade cracked on the last word. Amy hugged me and rubbed my back as I cried helplessly on her shoulder.

Jean and Ororo seemed to have gotten the message out, since everyone was markedly awkward around both Logan and I during training that day. We tried not to come into contact with one another, and didn't exchange a single word. I escaped the mansion as soon after dinner as possible.

Sitting on a fallen log in the woods, I can't say that I was surprised to smell a wisp of cigar smoke on the breeze. "I know you're there, Logan."

He stepped into the small clearing. The faint light of dusk outlined his compact, muscular body. His face was tight and guarded.

"This is ridiculous, Logan. No one can work like this. They're walking around on eggshells because they're not sure if we're going to start trying to rip each other's throats out or rip each other's clothing off."

"Not sure which one it's gonna be, either." His voice was gruff, harsh, and gravelly, but it ran along my spine like honey.

"Listen, you're pigheaded, arrogant, and cocky" I raised my voice over his growl. "And so am I. We get under each other's skin."

The tip of his cigar glowed in the failing light. "Yeah."

"So I say what the hell. I'm only here for four more days. Let's enjoy it while we have it, and not waste our time arguing."

"You sayin' what I think you're sayin', Vy?"

"Yeah, I am. Hell with it. Let's screw like rabid weasels while we have the chance." He laughed, a husky, rough sound, and ground out his cigar under his heel.

The next morning, at breakfast. Lively chatter at the table stuttered to a stop as soon I walked in, carrying two flannel shirts. I handed them to Logan and gave the rest of them a long stare. Slowly, the conversation started back up. I sat down and tucked into breakfast like a starving animal. One thing about enhanced metabolisms, they take a hell of a lot of food.

The next three days followed the same pattern. Training during the day, then, after dinner, frolicking in the forest, then returning to our separate beds to sleep. We were never physical in the mansion, keeping everything as professional as possible. We didn't talk much, either. We both had a lot of things we kept inside, and we respected each other's boundaries. We let our teammates think what they would. On the final day of our training week, we found out exactly what our teammates had been thinking.

"We have discussed the matter among the members of both teams, and we have come to the conclusion that we would like to invite you to join the X-Men," Professor Xavier intoned in his cultured, pompous tones.

"What?" I demanded, turning to my team leader. "Ron, what the hell is going on here?"

"All the team members agree. If you would prefer to join the X-Men, you're free to do so."

"We'd be honored to have you," Jean said. Scott nodded agreement.

"Are you people out of your minds?" I turned to Logan, the only other participant in this little meeting. "Did you know about this?"

"Nope." He looked surly, which was his normal response to being taken by surprise.

"We felt that it would make things easier for the two of you," Jean explained.

"For the last time, there is no two of us. There is no couple, no relationship. Don't you people understand no-strings-attached?" I was pissed off enough to change shape, but I controlled myself with an effort. "I am not joining the X-Men just because Logan and I have been screwing. I would have been thrilled to join you on my own merits, but thisthis is complete bullshit! Thanks but no thanks," and I left the office, closing the door softly behind me. Un-freaking-believable.

Later that day, the members of the X-Men gathered outside on the porch to say goodbye to us. I exchanged hugs with all the X-Men, even Jean. I couldn't bring myself to truly dislike her, even though I was pretty sure she'd been behind the offer to let me join the X-Men. She'd meant well, she just still believed in the kind of romantic mush spewed by paperback romances.

Logan didn't show up until the very end of the leave-taking. I had wondered if he would show.

He slouched onto the porch, looking surly and uncertain at the same time. Trying to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at us, I walked over to him, saying, "Hey."

"Hey. Came to say bye."

"Thanks. Wasn't sure you would."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't either."

Screw it. I don't care what they think, I decided, and leaned forward to kiss him. He leaned forward too, and then there were tongues tangling, and then my hands were clutching his shoulders and his arms were around my waist, and then I realized that some of the younger members of our audience were making catcalls and whistling.

I backed off. "So I'll, ah catch you later, I guess."

"Not if I catch you first." He smiled wolfishly. I turned to join my teammates.

Mike held the door for me and I scooted into the cramped airport van. The driver started up the motor and I watched the mansion recede into the distance. I looked at my teammates.

Mike and Amy were watching me anxiously, Sue speculatively. Ron seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"Did you all really think I'd leave you?" I demanded.

Mike and Amy simultaneously said, "No!"

Sue shrugged and said, "I'm out twenty dollars to these two."

"You had a betting pool going?" Great. I shook my head.

Ron said, "We would have missed you greatly, but you need to do what is right for you."

"Come on, people, it was just a fling. Meaningless." The mansion was out of sight now. Out of sight, out of mind, I thought. Yet I had to admit there was a part of me that wished that it had been more than just a fling. Part of me really liked that arrogant lunk.

Just proves that my teammates are right, I actually am certifiably insane.



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