The Twist Inside
Chapter 1: More than a Dance
by
Allykat



Author's note: After reading quite a few Logan/Jubilee pairing stories scattered around the internet, I decided to write my own to explore what I think would happen between them once Jubilee came of age. In the comics, it has been established in several stories that she has a crush on him. Just read Wolverine #51, written by Larry Hama. Jubilee finds Logan in a cheap motel room with a woman. In a jealous tiff, she kicks over Logan's bike. The story is even called "Heartbreak Hotel". So what exactly was Hama thinking? Something is going on there in order for the lot of us to come to a similar conclusion about the nature of their relationship... at least from Jubilee's point of view.. As for Logan, the guy is downright honorable despite everything and has his own set of rules. Who knows what he'd do? "The Twist Inside" is my vision of what would happen.




Jubilee left her fancy red sports car parked out in the front of the mansion. The tres cool convertible was a college present from Logan: surrogate brother, father, best friend... and something else. But she wasn't too certain about what that something else was yet. She was still working on it, figuring it out, and deciding what she should do about it... if she should do anything.

The spring day was perfect, the air was clear and warm and a breeze sifted through her hair. She'd been growing it long and it hung down her back in a loose French braid. Her friends at the sorority had transformed her from a gawky teenage mallrat into a sophisticated young woman... at least on the outside, she amended. Her step was light and her silky purple mini dress moved against her legs as she walked into the mansion. She escaped from college and her well-meaning, but sometimes cloying friends, for the weekend and she was looking forward to spending time with her favorite person. He didn't know she was coming.

Remy walked down the staircase just as she entered the foyer. He wore a pair of sneakers, cut-off shorts and a New York giants t-shirt. On the tip of one finger he spun a basketball.

"Hello, Remy," she chimed, stood on tip-toe and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"'Ello, petite. You are looking nice."

"Thank you," she replied with a smile and wondered at Remy's appraising expression. "Where is Logan?"

"Out back near the garage wid' one of his few loves," Remy replied. Jubilee couldn't tell if the Cajun was joking or serious.

Jubilee wasn't going to let anything spoil this day. Wolvie was hers and she didn't share. "I'm just going to have to tell her to leave. I drove all the way up to see Logan and no floozy is going to spoil it."

"I don't think your going to send dis love packin'," Remy called.

And he was right.

At the rear of the mansion outside the garages, Jubilee found Logan working on his Harley. He wore jeans and a once-white tank top now smeared with grease. A few parts from his scoot were scattered around on a greasy drop cloth. She stayed out of his line of sight and watched him for a moment. He always looked hot in tank tops and jeans and, as her friends in college told her after meeting him, he had a killer body. He'd caused quite a stir the day he came to see her, riding up on his Harley looking both dangerous and desirable. Her friends didn't stop pestering her about him for weeks after, wondering what exactly their relationship was. Their relationship was not easy to define and although he'd played many roles in her life, a lover was not one of those. Her friends did not believe the truth, as simple as she had tried to make it. She'd never told Wolvie about her friends questions; she was still unsure about how to address them herself.

The wind blew towards her, so she knew he couldn't catch her scent and she used the advantage to watch him. He popped a claw, placed a cloth strip on the tip and used it to clean the grease out of a cylindrical motorcycle part. He held the part up to the light, grumbled something then retracted the claw. A surge of warm affection filled her and she hugged herself. She wanted to throw herself on him and hug on him instead, but he'd never go for that. A very large loner streak vied for dominance with a stubborn streak that would shame a mule. She watched the muscles of his arm bunch as he worked a tool. The tool slipped and he raked his knuckles, leaving a bleeding red gash on his hand. Logan had a mutant healing factor, but he didn't have a pain dampening factor.

"Son of a whore mongering...." He trailed off at the sight of Jubilee walking across the lawn toward him.

Jubilee stopped in front of him, raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. "Son of a whore mongering what?"

"Just you never mind, and watch yer mouth," he growled. His gaze flicked over her, then he glared at the gash but it had healed. "What 'cho doing here?"

"I haven't seen you in three months that's all I'm going to get?" She raised her arms then let them fall back to her sides. She felt a rush of disappointment, but she kept it out of her voice. "I have to admit I was expecting a different greeting, like, 'Hey Jubes, great to see you!'" She sat down on the grass, crossed her legs out in front of her and braced her arms behind her. "I'm visiting for the weekend."

"That so?" His attention was wholly focused on the motorcycle. "You've been doing well at school, darlin. Your political science professors have been singin' praises. I'm proud o' ya."

Jubilee flushed at the compliment. Logan didn't give them out often. "Thanks, but I didn't come to talk about school."

"That so," he said absently, and frowned at a greasy part he held between two fingers. He popped a claw again and used the rag on the claw to clean the part.

"That's the second time you've said that. You're being downright loquacious today." He scowled at her for that and she gave him her sweetest smile. "I've come to tell you that I've decided you need a birthday party."

"Tell me...! Decided....?" he stuttered then jerked towards her, his brows pulled together. "A flamin' what!"

At least she had his complete attention now. "You know, a birthday party. Cake, balloons, presents in bright bows, pin the tail on the donkey. Any of that, like, sound familiar?"

"Darlin', how in the flamin' hell can I have a birthday party if I don't even know my birth date."

"A technicality," Jubilee replied and shrugged. "I think one of the reasons that you've been stalking around like a badger with a toothache is because you need to have some fun."

"I go ta' the Auger Inn or Hardcase's place if I want some fun," he grumbled. "And I ain't been stalking around like..." he grunted, "like whatever it was ya' said."

"A badger with a toothache. That's what Rogue told me." Jubilee snorted. "And, you may not know this, but kicking butt is not the only way to have a good time."

"Tell me it ain't so." This time there was a hint of a smile on his mouth.

She leaned over on her knees and punched him in the arm. "Ow!" She shook her hand. "That hurt!"

"Never hit a man with adamantium-laced bones." He continued to work on the Harley. "Now where'd ya get the hare-brained idea o' givin' me a party."

"It's not hare-brained. I just thought that... since... well, since there's some aspects of your life that you don't uh...."

"Remember?" Logan inserted. "You don't have to pussy foot around, darlin'. Like I've said before, I ain't got clue one about parts o' my life. Sometimes a stray memory will pop into my head and I have no idea if it's real or not."

"Well, then, that's a good reason to give you a real party. It'll be one that you can't forget. Then I'll know when to wish you happy birthday."

"Well, that's nice o' ya', darlin', but I ain't much o' a birthday boy." He reached blindly for a tool behind him. "Hand me the ratchet, will ya'?"

Jubilee looked at the array of tools on the drop cloth. "Uh. Hmm. Here, I think." She slapped it into his hand.

"This is a wrench." Logan handed it back to her. "The ratchet is right here." He grabbed the tool.

"Wolvie, how am I supposed to know what a ratchet looks like? I'm an ex-mall rat, not a grease monkey."

Logan finally looked back at her. She couldn't decipher the strange look on his face. "Ya' callin' me a grease monkey?"

"If the ratchet fits," she replied. "Ahh!" she screeched as Logan got up and stalked toward her. She scrambled backward in the grass and held up one hand. "Don't you come near me with those greasy paws! This... this dress is silk. Don't touch me." Fireworks sparkled from her fingertips but that didn't deter him.

"We'll see who the grease monkey is now, darlin'," he growled, and grabbed her ankle and pulled her toward him.

"Wolvie!" Jubilee screeched and pushed at his chest as he crawled over her. "You big oaf!" she cried, laughed and beat at his shoulders with her fists, not that it did much to stop him. The guy had to weigh close to two hundred pounds more than she did.

Logan loomed above her, his weight on both knees. With one large hand, he pinned her wrists over her head to the ground and swiped a finger across both cheeks and down her nose. He tilted his head, regarded her for a moment, then swiped a finger in some grease on his shirt and put it right in the middle of her chin.

"I think this makes ya' my assistant grease monkey."

"Wolvie! Oooooo!" Jubilee screeched, struggled and kicked the ground. Sparklers flashed from her fingers, but with him pinning her wrists she couldn't direct her fireworks effectively, and he knew it. "You... you meanie!"

"Meanie?" When Logan began laughing, it was almost enough to make Jubilee forget her indignation. Logan laughing? Not just a chuckle, but real honest to goodness laughter. Catching him in a weak moment, she pushed him off and he rolled to the ground, holding his sides, his whole body shaking.

"Oh, so you think wiping your dirty grease on me is funny!"

"Yeah, darlin', you should see your face. When did ya' start gettin' all prissy on yer ole' Canucklehead?"

"I'm. Not. Prissy!" Jumping on him and straddling him, she pummeled him with her fists; not that it did any good. The guy was like a rock. He didn't try to fight back, just curled up, held his arms over his head and laughed. "Apologize," she demanded. "Tell me you're sorry and take it back."

"No," came Logan's muffled response.

Jubilee dug her fingers into his sides and tickled him. "Say uncle, Wolvie. Say it!"

"No!" he howled. "Never uncle."

"I knew you'd say that, it's just like you to be stubborn to the end." She leaned down and grabbed his ear lob between her teeth. "Thay ooncle. Thay it!"

Logan drew a huge, quick breath then rose up so suddenly that she sprawled backwards into the grass.

"Hey! You could have given me some warning," she said, brushing at her dress. "I think I have grass stains on my dress, now."

He walked away a few steps and stood with his back to her, hands clenched against his thighs, his laughter gone.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head, looked over his shoulder at her and took a deep breath. "Nothing, darlin'. It's nothing. Go ahead and plan yer party. I'll be there."

"Tres cool!" she responded and jumped up. "I promise it'll be fun."

"And do something about that grease on your face." Logan was chuckling again. Whatever his problem was he seemed to have gotten over it. He faced her and crossed his arms.

"Oh, yeah? And here's your stupid racket." Jubilee reached down, grabbed the tool and tossed it at his head. He ducked and she stuck out her tongue.

"It's a ratchet." A dangerous, but teasing expression crossed his features. "And that wasn't nice."

"It wasn't meant to be. Not that it would ever hurt your hard head if it ever connected." She walked up to him and threw her arms around his neck. "You big lug. You don't scare me." She sighed. "I've missed you, Wolvie. College is nice, but you're not there," she mumbled into his neck, and ran a hand down his hair. She tried to date a few boys, but she inevitably compared them to Logan, and there was no one on earth who could compare to this hairy guy. They had been through so much together. Logan hesitated, then returned her hug, holding her tight. Jubilee sighed again, contented, and burrowed her face into his shoulder.

"I've missed you, too, kiddo," he finally replied. He released her and she stepped back and gave him her best smile.

"I promise it'll be a good party."

"Better have a keg or two.... or three." He paused. "Better make that three."

"Don't worry," she replied, picked up his hand and squeezed it. "I'll take care of it, and I'm going to start on it right now." She winked and sauntered away, putting an extra sway into her hips. She didn't know why she did it, but at least he was noticing, and she was keenly aware of his gaze all the way up to the mansion.

* * *


Jubilee had notepaper and invitations spread across the kitchen table. "Hmm. Two weeks should be a long enough notice for invitations. I'll make it an evening party with dinner, say around 6 in the evening with a BBQ. Informal is more Wolvie's style. And there should be a band, and some dancing." She grabbed the telephone book lying near her elbow.

"Did someone say dancin'?" said a familiar voice. "Ah like dancin'"

Jubilee looked up. "Oh hey, Rogue."

"What ya' doing, sugah? I thought that was ya' cah parked out 'n front."

"I came down to visit. I'm planning a birthday party for the Wolvster." She turned to the 'p' page in the phonebook and ran her finger down the listings for party supplies. "We're going to have cake, a band, some dancing. And Wolvie is going to have fun whether he likes it or not."

"A party fa' Logan?" Rogue's brows climbed up to her hairline. She sat down and picked up one of the invitations. "Does he know about this?"

"Yep. I already told him that he's going to have it."

"You told him?"

"Is there an echo in here," Jubilee teased. "The big lug doesn't have a choice, and you told me on the phone that he's been grumpy."

"It's been quiet, so ah figured it was because he hasn't been thumping any heads togetha' lately. "

"Funny, 'cause that's almost what he said," she replied without looking up. "I don't think the band should be rock and roll--that's not Wolvie's style. He likes that country western stuff. Will you teach me to two step, Rogue?" She looked up and found Rogue staring at her. "What?"

"I'll teach ya' to two step, honey, but did you know you have dirt on yer face?" Rogue licked her glove-encased thumb and leaned forward.

"Yuck!" Jubilee cringed, held a notebook up in front of her face and peered around it. She'd forgotten that Logan had rubbed grease on her face. "Don't you dare."

"Dare what?" Jean said as she and Scott walked into the kitchen. They were both sweaty from a session in the danger room. One aspect of being an X-Man that Jubilee did not miss; she hated the danger room. Scott grabbed a banana from a decorative fruit bowl and leaned against the kitchen counter to peel it.

"Jubilee is throwing Logan ah birthday party," Rogue replied.

"But the man doesn't even know his own parents, let alone how old he is," Scott said around a bite of banana. "And besides that, what does he think about this party?"

"He was his usual recalcitrant self at first, but he relented." Jubilee found Jean and Scott staring at her. "You guys don't think it's a good idea?"

"No, it'll be fun and good for Logan, but you have dirt on your face," Jean said, licking her thumb and reaching for Jubilee.

Jubilee covered her arms over her head and ducked. "When did everyone decide that they're my mother?"

They all looked up at the sound of a Harley-Davidson engine amplified by drag pipes. The engine revved loudly a few more times before it settled down to its usual distinctive rumble. Jubilee's first instinct was to run out to make sure Logan wasn't going to ride off and leave her behind, but maybe it would be nice to have him away from the mansion for the rest of the afternoon while she learned a few new tricks.

* * *


Only a few patrons hung out at Hardcase's bar during the early afternoon. Logan didn't want company so it suited his mood.

"I hear you're linin' up a team for some job in San Salvador," Logan said to Harcase. He puffed on a cigar and flicked the ashes off in an ash tray.

"You've heard correctly. I have a good team of men, but...," Hardcase, the silver-haired bartender, replied and shrugged. "I just don't have the right man to lead them." The bar that shared the same name as its owner was a front for mercenaries. Hardcase put together mercenary teams for a variety of covert military jobs in a variety of countries for as many reasons; they choose no sides.

"Good mercs are a dyin' breed." Logan finished off his beer and took another long drag of the cigar. "Why don't ya lead them yerself?"

"Never thought I'd say this, but I'm gettin' too old." Hardcase swiped a rag over the bar top.

"Day I get too old to kick some ass is the day ya' gotta bury me six feet under." Logan rapped the bar with his knuckles. "Line up a half dozen more o' them whisky shots. Don't bother with the beer this time, it's dilutin' my buzz." Hardcase raised one inquiring eyebrow and Logan growled. "Ya' cen keep yer thoughts to yerself."

"Might help to talk to someone." Hardcase reached for the half empty bottle of whiskey. "You know I'm always up for a good tale of woe."

"Yeah, yeah," Logan said and watched the man pour a row of six whisky shots. The bottle had been full when he had started twenty minutes ago. "This ain't no case o' woe."

"Why don't you just slug it from the bottle, friend," Hardcase said and plunked the bottle on the bar.

"Temptin'," Logan replied, and without drawing a breath downed the whisky in the shot glasses. He belched then thumped his chest with a fist. "Burns all the way down," he said on a cough, his voice hoarse.

"That'd kill a lesser man," Hardcase commented, his voice half serious, half teasing.

"It ain't the whisky or the cigars that're gonna be the end o' me," Logan replied and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "Line 'em up again."

"These are on me if you tell what's eatin' you."

"Don't push, old man. Ain't none o' yer business."

Hardcase squinted into Logan's face. "Guilt." He nodded. "It's a woman, I bet on it." He poured the rest of the whisky into the shot glasses and held the empty bottle up to the light. "Give up, you won't win."

Logan growled a warning, not that he expected it would shut Hardcase up. A fist in the bartender's mouth might work, but he wouldn't do that to a man pouring his whisky. "Shud-up, and get another bottle o' whisky over here, pronto." If he drank fast enough, his healing factor wouldn't be able to keep up and that's what he wanted. Logan wanted to be numb.

"She must be married," Hardcase said, raked a key across the empty whisky bottle label and tossed it into a bin and took an unopened bottle from the rack behind him. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here drownin' your sorrows."

"She ain't married. Might be better if she was."

"So it is a woman," Hardcase said smugly. "Knew it."

Logan's hands clenched on the bar top and he stared straight a head. "Yer job is shut yer mouth and keep pouring. I don't wanna see the bottom o' these glasses."

Hardcase popped open the whisky bottle and refilled the shot glasses. "You know, Judy over there would be happy to take your mind off whoever it is."

Judy was a buxom blonde waitress who worked tables for Hardcase. On more then one occasion she'd made it plain that she was available whenever Logan was willing. Judy was a nice gal and single-mom working two jobs. Logan wasn't inclined to take advantage of her. "Judy deserves more than a one night stand."

"Then get a grip, man," Hardcase said and braced both hands on the bar. "Just tell this gal how you feel and get on with life."

"She's young." He drank down two of the whisky shots.

The mercenary laughed. "As long as she's legal I don't see why is that is a problem. Might even be a plus."

Logan snarled, reached across the bar, grabbed Hardcase's shirt and pulled him halfway over the bar, their faces inches apart. "She's decent and she doesn't deserve that." Logan let the man go, took a drag on the cigar and squinted through the smoke. "And she's too good fer me." He drank down two more whisky shots.

Hardcase whistled and straightened his shirt. "This is worse than I thought."

"Damn right," Logan said and stared fuzzily at the remaining shot glasses, then finished them off. Those last six were doing the trick. "It's easier to think o' her when I'm flamin' drunk out o' my mind. I'm too old fer her. I've seen too many things. Have too much blood on my hands. Done too many things that I ain't proud of. She's just startin' out, she has her college friends and there's a world o' experience for her ta' discover." Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel his healing factor struggling to keep up with the alcohol. He wasn't going to let it. He opened his eyes. His vision was still too steady. Had to fix that. "Whenever she comes around, she tortures the flamin' hell out 'o me, huggin' n' kissin' on me. Teasin' me n' givin' me these looks, gettin' me all twisted up inside." He rapped his knuckles on the bar. "Don't stop now."

Hardcase complied and Logan downed six more shots. "So the gal likes you back?" Hardcase asked.

"Yeah, she thinks she does." Those last six shots did the trick this time. The room spun and he braced a hand on the bar counter for support. "Problem is that she's too young to really know what she wants. As long as I'm around, she's jus' gonna keep comin' back ta' me." He tried to focus unsteadily on Hardcase and saw three of the old geezer instead of one. He pointed to the whisky bottle. "Keep goin'. I'm jus' gettin' ta' the point where the problem isn't so bad."

"You know I could cut you off," Hardcase said. He poured six more shots.

Logan stared at the man for a moment, then made a fist and lifted a middle finger.



CHAPTERS:   1   2   3




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