Merry Christmas Darlin'

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Disclaimer: They belong to Marvel. I'm just using them to get over my holiday family overload.

Notes: Happy holidays! Just a short little piece for Christmas.

Jean froze just before she stepped into the kitchen. Mistletoe. Someone had hung mistletoe in the archway. And Logan was standing right beneath it.

She made a mental note to kill whoever had decked these halls.

"Merry Christmas, darlin'," he said with a grin.

She tried to smile back, but she was sure it came out as more of a grimace. It wasn't that she *didn't* want to kiss Logan. She was more afraid that if she kissed him once, she wouldn't be able to stop.

"Merry Christmas, Logan," she replied, trying to look nonchalant about standing like an idiot in the hallway.

He gave her an expectant look. "Did ya need something from the kitchen?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

'Busted,' she thought. "Um. . . well, yes," she answered,

The eyebrow went up a little higher. "So, why're you standin' in the hall?"

"Oh, no reason," she said, pushing her hair back over her shoulders.

Moment of truth. Maybe Logan hadn't noticed that he was standing under the mistletoe. Maybe he was just standing there. . . 'Guts, Jean. Just walk through the door and into the kitchen. Pretend you don't see it,' she told herself.

Courage screwed to the sticking place, she stepped through the archway. 'Almost there!' she cheered silently.

She had just stepped into the kitchen (and declared herself home-free) when he grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "Aren't ya forgetting something?" he whispered. "Kissing under the mistletoe *is* a tradition where you come from, isn't it?"

Jean face him a weak smile. "Yeah, I guess it is," she replied just as softly.

Logan trailed his fingers over her cheek, making her shiver. "You aren't scared, are ya?" he teased, his dark eyes twinkling.

"Of course not," she said, horrified at the breathy tone her voice had taken on.

He slid his fingers back through her hair to cup the back of her head. "So? You ready to uphold tradition?" he breathed against her mouth.

Jean didn't have time to answer. Logan was kissing her, his soft lips nudging at hers, his tongue gently gaining entry to her mouth. Jean's knees wobbled a bit and Logan slipped an arm around her, supporting her weight.

God, Jean had never been kissed like that before. Logan's body was pressed against hers, his thigh pushing between hers. She felt every inch of him as if he were covering her like a blanket. She kissed him, she tasted him, she breathed him in, she lived through his kisses. Her heart pounded so hard that she was afraid it might burst. She didn't need oxygen; all she needed was to kiss Logan every second for the rest of her life. It was beautiful and terrible and it burned her and she was reborn.

It was just what she had feared.

He slowly disengaged, gulping in air, tilting his head back with his eyes closed. "Merry Christmas, darlin'," he repeated, touching his lips to hers one last time.

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