Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never have. Never will...*sigh*
Logan was acting weird.
There was no other way to look at it. . . he was just acting plain weird. That was Rogue's term for it, and it had taken her saying something to that effect to make Ororo sit back and really study the man whose room she was now sharing.
Two days ago, in the kitchen. . . only a week after she had moved in with him. Rogue had been sitting at the table, munching happily on a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Ororo was watering the wandering jew plant in the hanging basket over the sink.
Logan walked in, winked at Ororo, then opened the fridge and rummaged around for a beer. He cracked it open, tousled Rogue's hair, then walked out. Nothing unusual.
Rogue looked up from the Cosmo she was reading and fixed Ororo with a look. "What's up with Logan?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" Ororo asked.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "He was humming, Miss Munroe. Since when does Logan hum?"
Ororo blinked and thought this over. "Was he really?" she asked with a smile. "I wasn't paying attention. . . I guess he's in a good mood."
Rogue lifted her eyebrows and went back to her reading with a shrug. "He's actin' weird, if you ask me."
After that, Ororo started really paying attention to Logan and his new-found good humor. He was acting differently. . . and when she really thought about it, she realized he'd been acting this way ever since that night in his room, after her late night walk with Forge. . . the night they'd made love in the darkness. The memory of that pleasure still sent shivers up her spine. . . and yet, she had never broached the subject of the other events of that night. . . namely, why he had been sitting alone in that darkened room in the first place. She hadn't forgotten the wetness on his cheeks, either. . . but once in his arms that night she had forgotten even that, at least temporarily. After, she had been too afraid to ask about it. . . something about the thought of Logan weeping terrified her. Maybe she had been mistaken. . . it had been dark, after all.
She thought about all this as she watched him one lazy afternoon, shortly after her conversation with Rogue. She was sitting on the wide patio on the front of the house, watching Logan as he tinkered with the engine on the Bentley. The car had been acting up for awhile now, and Scott had finally given up on it, but Logan refused to pass up a chance to fix something that Scott couldn't. Ahh. . . male rivalry.
Ororo crossed her legs at the ankle, propped up on a small wicker stool as she sat and sipped a lemonade. Her position afforded her a delightful view of Logan's bare and sweaty chest as he leaned over the fender, banging with a wrench on some piece of the engine that was giving him trouble. There were smudges of grease all over his burly chest and arms. . . but as filthy as he was there was something still undeniably sexy about his appearance. She was glad for the round sunglasses perched on her nose. . . it allowed her to slide her eyes over his incredible physique without a single soul being the wiser.
As if reading her thoughts, Logan suddenly looked up and grinned at her from beneath the sweaty hair hanging in his face. "Like what you see, darlin'?" he asked.
She jumped, then stuck the tip of her tongue out at him pertly. "How do you know I was looking at you?" she sniffed.
His grin grew wider, and he picked up a rag and wiped off his hands lazily. "'Cause I can feel you looking at me, beautiful. . . with or without sunglasses."
"Oh, really?"
"Yep." He ran his eyes over the Bentley, then shrugged and tossed the greasy rag into the space under the hood. "I'm givin' up. . . at least for the day." With that, he slammed down the hood and started toward the patio, drawing Ororo's eyes down past his hard stomach and over the tight lines of his cut-off shorts. A tingle of desire ran through her as he mounted the steps, and then he was leaning over her and gently plucking the sunglasses from her face.
"Those are mine, mister," she said in a sultry whisper.
"So are these," he whispered back, leaning down to cover her lips with his hot ones. She made a tiny noise of delight and returned his kiss slowly, tasting the delicious salt of his sweat. He broke the kiss gently, his dark eyes locking with hers. "All mine," he murmured softly, his voice almost a purr.
"Are you making a claim on me?" she asked, bringing a hand to his face and lightly stroking his lips with her thumb. He caught her hand with his, and a long beat of silence passed between them before he spoke again.
"Maybe I am," he said softly. A sudden seriousness came over his face. He seemed reluctant to meet her eyes now, and instead looked at her hand intently, tracing the smooth contours of her palm with his fingers.
:"Logan. . . are you all right?" she asked softly.
He looked up at her then, and the serious expression was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. "Yeah. . . I'm fine, darlin'," he replied. "Never better." He stood up and stretched, growling a little with pleasure. "I'm goin' to grab a shower. . . wanna join me?"
She raised a delicate eyebrow. "Hmm. . . sounds interesting. What did you have in mind?"
His eyes drifted to her chest, where the soft rise of her breasts pressed against the rose-colored material of her blouse. "Why don't you come with me and find out?" he said with a slow grin. He lifted his arm a little and held out one hand to her casually.
"Oh, you are a devil," she laughed, and she took his hand and rose to her feet. He made as if to pull her close, into his embrace, but suddenly the patio swam before her eyes and she swayed unsteadily.
"'Ro?" Logan stepped forward quickly and caught her, steadying her within the strong circle of his arms. "What the hell. . . ?"
"I. . . oh Goddess. . . " Ororo clung to his shoulders tightly, pressing her face against his chest and squeezing her eyes shut against the seasick motion of the patio floor beneath her. A wave of nausea swept over her. . . she choked a little, a light sweat breaking out on her forehead. . . then just as suddenly as it had come, the dreadful feeling passed, leaving her weak and more than a little disoriented.
"'Ro?" Logan asked again. She opened her eyes to find him staring down into her face, a worried expression in his brown eyes.
"I'm. . . I'm fine, Logan," she replied shakily. She pushed away from him gently. . . he seemed reluctant to let her go, but he did and she was grateful to find she could stand on her own again. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had a dizzy spell, I guess. . . maybe from too much heat."
Logan's eyes narrowed, and he placed a steadying hand on her elbow. "C'mon," he said, and he gently steered her toward the door.
The house was cool and dim inside, and Ororo leaned against the solid comfort of Logan's side gratefully. He kept one hand on hers, the other arm encircling her waist. . . she seemed to be fine for the first few steps across the hall, but as soon as she reached the foot of the stairs she swayed on her feet and moaned softly. Logan didn't hesitate. . . he stopped right where he was and swept Ororo into his arms, carrying her like a child as he mounted the steps. Her head sagged against his shoulder weakly, but she still managed a pale laugh. "You need to quit doing this," she murmured. "I'm going to give you a hernia."
Logan didn't answer. Ororo kept her eyes shut, fighting the awful dizziness, but she heard the pounding of sneakered feet running down the steps toward them.
"Hey. . . what's wrong with Miss Munroe?" It was Bobby. . . he sounded cheerful and only mildly concerned.
"Go get Jean!" Logan barked. Ororo opened her eyes a crack, in time to see Bobby scramble away from them as fast as he could. She fought against the laugh that bubbled up inside her.
"Logan. . . stop terrifying the students. I'm fine."
"Like hell you are," he growled. They had reached the second floor landing, and Logan covered the distance between the stairs and their room in record time. He held her close and fumbled with the doorknob, then he kicked the door open so hard it rebounded against the wall behind it. Two more steps brought him to the bed, and he gently laid Ororo upon it, propping her head on the pillow.
Ororo moaned a little and brought a trembling hand to her forehead. "Oww. . . would you bring me some aspirin?" she asked.
"Yeah, darlin'," Logan began. Just then, Jean burst through the open door, her white lab coat flapping behind her.
"'Ro?" Jean asked. She brushed past Logan and took Ororo's limp arm, automatically checking her pulse without a thought. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Jean. . . really," Ororo replied. "I just had a dizzy spell. . . nothing major."
"Yeah, the second dizzy spell in five minutes," Logan said dryly. He crossed his arms over his chest as Jean cast him a glance. "She almost fell, Jean."
"Is that true, 'Ro?" Jean asked. She placed a cool hand against Ororo's forehead, reaching inside her coat pockets with the other to retrieve a small pen light.
"Yes. . . but it was just the heat, I'm sure of it," Ororo said.
Jean frowned a little. "You skin temperature seems normal. Look into the light, please," she said, shining the small beam into Ororo's eyes. She moved it back and forth, then clicked it off and back on again rapidly. "Eye movement and dilation normal. . . have you ever had these spells before, 'Ro?"
"Not that I can recall."
Jean sat back and thought for a moment, then smiled. "It probably was just the heat, then. Everything seems fine. . . maybe you should just rest a little."
"Sounds good. . . I'm awfully sleepy all of a sudden." Ororo stretched and regarded Logan's still-worried face with a warm smile. "I'm sorry I scared everyone."
"Don't worry about it. . . Logan was just concerned, and Bobby always has a tendency to blow things out of proportion." Jean stood up and pocketed the light as she nodded at Logan. "Keep an eye on her, okay?"
Logan nodded slightly, but he kept his dark eyes fixed on Ororo as Jean quietly exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her. A heavy stillness fell on the room after Jean's departure, and Ororo squirmed uncomfortably under Logan's moody stare.
"What?" she said finally.
Her voice seemed to break his train of thought, and he visibly shook himself as he took a seat beside her on the bed. "I'm just worried about you, that's all," he murmured, brushing the skin on the back of her arm with a gentle finger. "Something's been. . . off. . . about you lately, and this little episode just capped it."
Ororo recoiled a little, a hurt look flickering across her face. "Off? What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"Nothing bad. . . it's nothing you've done," Logan said. He took her hand and raised it to his cheek, rubbing it against the roughness of his beard absently. "But something's been different about you lately. . . and I can't put my finger on what it is." He paused again, watching the sour look gradually smooth away from Ororo's face, then he added, "I think. . . "
"Think what?"
He frowned and looked down at her hand clasped in his. "Maybe you're sick."
Ororo surprised Logan by laughing. "And what are you basing this observation on, my love? I'm as healthy as I've ever been."
Logan cocked his head to the side, studying her carefully. "You smell different," he said.
Her eyes narrowed. "Logan. . . I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that's not exactly the most complimentary thing you can say to a woman."
It was Logan's turn to laugh. "I didn't say you smelled bad. . . just different."
She relaxed again, just a little. "Maybe it's my shampoo or something."
"Maybe." He let his eyes roam over her gently, then he squeezed her hand and stood up. "I'll let you get some sleep now," he said. "Will you be okay if I leave?"
"Of course," she replied. She yawned hugely and rolled over on her side, curling up into a feline ball. "What are you going to do?"
"Take a shower. . . then I need to go into town for awhile," Logan said. He turned away from her, and Ororo saw the return of that secretive look from earlier play across his hard features. He was avoiding her eyes again. . . what was he up to? A present for her, maybe?
"Okay," she said, a small smile on her lips. "Get something for me, okay?"
Logan started, his unreadable eyes jumping to her face curiously, but Ororo only smiled a little wider and closed her eyes with a deep sigh. She could feel Logan watching her for a moment longer. . . then a shadow fell over her closed eyelids as he stepped to the side of the bed again. There was firm softness as he pressed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss, then the sound of his retreating footsteps and the soft click of the door closing let her know she was alone.
With a contented sigh, Ororo drifted into sleep.
*****
When Ororo awoke again, the day had slouched along into late afternoon. Logan had, according to Scott, taken off on the motorcycle for town and had been gone the entire afternoon on some errand, so once Ororo actually got up and started wandering around she found herself to be lonely without Logan's constant presence. Supper was a modest affair, since Logan was gone and some of the kids had decided to order out for pizza instead. Ororo ate quickly, finding herself unusually ravenous (it must have been the late nap, she reasoned), and as the last traces of the sun were sinking behind the trees on the western edge of the property, she made her way slowly to the greenhouse in search of something to do.
Dusk crawled quietly over the backyard, just visible through the windows of the conservatory as she busied herself pruning back the baby tomato plants. She took her time. . . it wasn't as if she had anything better to do. By the time she was finished, the sky beyond the huge windows of the conservatory was the purple-black of night, and thousands of clear stars had scattered themselves across the sky. She stood in the greenhouse, her hands on the small of her back as she stretched, and was vaguely surprised at how beautiful and brilliant the stars were tonight. Usually they only looked that way in the winter. . . but it was a nice change.
She stopped long enough to wash her hands in the utility sink beside the steps, then she left the greenhouse and entered the main hall of the house. It was dark, with only the small Victorian lamp on the sideboard lit to ward off stubbed toes, but as she passed the rec room the blue light of the television spilled out into the hall. She glanced inside. . . Jean and Scott were seated on the couch, with Jubilee, Bobby, and Kitty seated or sprawled on the floor in front of the television. A scantily clad woman on the screen shrieked just as Ororo walked by. . . must be another all-night horror marathon on the sci-fi channel. She smiled and continued past the door, heading for the back stairwell past the kitchen and Xavier's office.
The back stairwell led to the formal parlor on the back of the house. It was rarely used, except when parents wanted to visit the school before sending their children there, but Ororo came here often when she wanted to commune with nature, for there was a large, scooped stone balcony that spun out from the back of the house, accessible through the French doors in the parlor. It was dark in the room when she stepped onto the landing, but she made her way unerringly across the room to the doors on the far side. There was a light switch on the wall beside them, and she flicked it on, turning on a small wrought iron lantern beyond the curtained doors. They were unlocked, as usual, and she opened them and stepped out onto the balcony on the other side.
The balcony looked out over the rear lawn of the mansion, and she leaned against the stone railing and breathed deeply of the evening air. Goddess, it was a lovely night. No moon tonight, but the millions of stars lit the sky and reflected in her dark eyes like jewels. The soft illumination from the terrace lantern was undisturbing, and she skirted the edge of its circle of light on the Spanish tiles that made up the floor, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as she relished the feel of the night breeze on her skin.
The soft wind relaxed her, seeping into her muscles and allowing the exhaustion of the day to slowly cover her. So tired. . . maybe she was getting sick, as Logan had suggested. It seemed like she was always tired lately, but most especially in the early evenings, like now. Sometimes it was so bad it felt like she had swigged a bottle of Nyquil. . . she was sure Logan had noticed it, for there had been a couple of nights where they had retired to their room, and she was asleep seconds after her head hit the pillow. He didn't seem to mind, though. . . maybe he really was content, just holding her sometimes. She hoped so. . . at least until she got over this bug or whatever it was that was making her so tired.
The buzzing roar of an engine floated to her on the night wind. . . she tilted her head and listened, and then a smile spread across her face as she recognized the sound of Logan's motorcycle. He was back. . . maybe she should go meet him?
No, it wasn't necessary. As always, if he wanted to find her, he would.
*****
On a small stone bench on the back lawn, unseen by Ororo on the balcony above, Rogue sat quietly and watched the same stars, her arms hugging her knees as she regarded them and moped. All alone. . . as usual. She'd tried all day to get a moment alone with Remy, but Jubes, Kitty, and seemingly every other female in the school had conspired against her. It wasn't that she couldn't talk to Remy with other people around. . . but she didn't want to. She knew what would happen if she tried. . . she'd start to stutter and blush, and then Kitty and Jubes would start riding her and teasing her, and she would simply fade away into the woodwork rather than stay and be humiliated in front of Remy.
A dull blush crept into her cheeks at the thought, and she buried her face into her arms, thankful for the darkness and her lack of company. Ohhh..how was she ever supposed to get to know Remy better, when she was too damn chicken to even talk to him? And why oh why did she care? There were other boys, right? Why was this one so important?
"Because he's absolutely gorgeous," Rogue breathed aloud. Oh, bother that Cajun! Everytime she looked at him her heart sped up and she found it hard to swallow. . . this was worse than the old crush she used to have on Logan. . . waaaaaay worse.
The light on the balcony above came on, and Rogue lifted her head curiously. The bench she sat on was on a small rise, and she could clearly see Ororo as she came through the French doors and onto the balcony. Ororo leaned against the stone railing, gazing up at the stars, and Rogue found herself smiling despite her thoughts. Miss Munroe. . . wow, Logan sure had it bad for her.
Too bad Rogue would never know what that was like.
Rogue's face crumpled a little, and she sniffed back the tears that abruptly sprang to her eyes. It wasn't fair. . . it just wasn't fair. . .
"Hello, chere."
Rogue nearly jumped out of her skin. She scrambled off the bench in a hurry, turning to face the young man that had seemingly materialized out of the surrounding darkness. Remy grinned as his face came into the faint light spilling over from the balcony, and he parked a lit cigarette in the corner of his lips as he nodded at Rogue.
"Marie, non? Dat your name?" he asked.
"Um, yeah. . . yeah, that's me," Rogue replied. She laughed shakily, trying to seem cool and nonchalant. "What are you doin' out here?"
"Remy might ask you de same t'ing, non?" His smile widened, and he took a long drag off the cigarette before plucking it from his mouth and flicking it into the darkness. "Does la belle Marie often walk 'bout at night, alone?"
She laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, sometimes. It helps me think."
Remy nodded. "Mind if Remy join you?" he asked.
Mind?! Rogue smiled shyly, all but dancing inside with the thought that he wanted to sit beside her. "No, please," she said, gesturing to the bench as she sat back down. "Have a seat."
"Merci." He sat down easily, and before she could react one way or the other he casually rested his arm on the back of the bench, encircling her shoulders. Rogue sat ramrod straight, suddenly afraid to move. Remy regarded her with some amusement.
"You can relax, chere," he said. "Remy is a gentleman. . . you are safe wit' me."
She gave him a small smile, too shy to look at him directly. "Ah. . . Ah have to be careful, Remy," she said. Part of her almost stopped from saying more, but the perverse realist in her spoke up before she had time to falter. "It's my mutation. . . Ah can't touch anybody, or Ah might kill 'em."
A look of mild alarm flitted over Remy's face, and he withdrew his arm slightly. "Sacre bleu! Touching you anywhere?"
"N-no. . . just my skin." She lifted her arms, encased in their thin leather gloves. "That's why Ah wear these. . . it keeps me from hurtin' people."
Remy's strange eyes regarded her thoughtfully, but she was glad to feel his arm relax around her shoulders once more. "No offense, chere, but dat's a rotten mutation," he said softly. "You can't touch anybody?"
"Nope. . . nobody," she replied with a shrug. "An' yeah, it sucks pretty bad."
They sat in silence for a few moments, then they both lifted their heads as the sound of a motorcycle engine hummed through the night air. Remy grinned a little. "Dat's a sound Remy loves tah hear," he said.
"A motorcycle?" Rogue asked. "That's Logan, most probably. He went out earlier. . . said he was goin' shopping or somethin' like that."
Remy caught Rogue's smile and the shake of her head. "Why is dat funny?" he asked, smiling with her.
"You'd have tah know Logan," she replied. "He nevah goes shoppin'. . . it's just weird, that's all."
Remy said nothing for a long moment, then he dipped his head a little closer to hers and smiled. "What?" she asked, blushing a little at his stare.
"Not'in, chere. . . Remy just likes tah see you smile, dat's all," he replied. "Remy been watchin' you for awhile now, ever since he got here, an' he don' t'ink he ever see you smile before."
Rogue's blush deepened, and she felt her heart start up a nervous pitter-patter that felt wonderful. "Watchin' me?" she asked shyly.
"Oui, ma chere," he laughed.
Rogue smiled at him, and he smiled back. She was doing it. . . she was really doing it! She was finally talking to him, and. . . well, at least she knew one thing he liked. He liked to see her smile.
All right then, dammit. . . she was going to smile.
*****
Logan killed the engine of the motorcycle and then sat in silence, rubbing his face with the heels of his hands. Damn. . . he'd really done it. He still couldn't believe he had actually gone through with it. . . man, if the others could only see him now. Shit. The entire time since he had left the mansion it had seemed as if he were on autopilot. . . he honestly couldn't remember the trip into town, nor what he had done or said prior to entering the jewelry store and pointing a shaking finger at the ring beneath the sparkling glass case.
And now he had done it. . . the damn thing was his, lock, stock and barrel. . . and all that remained was that peculiar ritual that marked giving it to 'Ro. But, aw hell. . . he threw back his head and stared at the garage ceiling, searching for an answer on its crossbeamed ceiling. None was forthcoming. . . which meant exactly what? That, against all reason and logic, he was actually going to go through with this thing?
But you love her, don't you? his own voice asked silently. And this is what normal people do when they love each other, right?
"But I'm not normal," Logan said aloud, growling a little.
So fake it.
Logan sighed and got off the bike, kicking the stand into place and walking away with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The small box was nestled in the left-hand pocket of his jeans, pressed warmly against the muscle of his upper thigh as he walked. Damn thing felt like it was burning a hole in his skin. . . he stomped up the short flight of steps to the main hall and crossed to the stairs, ignoring the soft sound of the television from the rec room as he mounted the stairs quickly. The upper landing was silent and dark, but he made his way unerringly down the hall without pause and entered the room he shared with Ororo at the far end.
He paused for a moment just inside the door to turn on the small lamp on the dresser, its muted amber light falling softly on the empty bed. He was mildly surprised to see that Ororo wasn't in it. . . lately she was always tired early, and it wasn't unusual for her to go to bed shortly after supper. He stayed for a minute, next to the bed, pondering her absence with a raised eyebrow, then he shrugged out of his jacket and flung it on the bed. His fingers retrieved the small, grey velvet box out of his jeans pocket, and after a careful glance at the door to make sure he was still alone, he crossed back to the dresser and opened the top drawer.
Neat rows of boxers and carefully folded socks met his distracted glance. Good place. . . yeah, this should be fine. 'Ro wouldn't go in here, at least not far, and under the bottom layer of clothes the small box would be safe. He paused a moment longer, his jaw working nervously, then before he could second guess himself and throw the damn thing away, he shoved the box quickly under his underwear and slammed the drawer shut with a panicky thrust.
The sound of the wood drawer sliding home echoed hugely in the empty room. Logan remained standing beside the dresser, his hands resting lightly on the top as he waited for his breathing to slow. Jesus H. Christ. . . this was fuckin' ridiculous. What in the hell was he thinking?
DON'Tthink, dumbass, he thought savagely to himself. You start doin' that, you really ARE screwed.
Logan sighed and slowly raised his head, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung over the dresser. Well, at least that looked fairly normal. . . good sign. He nervously ran his fingers through his wind-tossed hair. What now? Plan a date to do it? Good God. . . he didn't think he had it in him to actually do the whole "get-down-on-one-knee" bit. Maybe 'Ro didn't go for that sort of shit. How had Forge done it? That was a good plan. . . just do the exact opposite of whatever the Cheyenne had done. . . but THAT plan would only work if he asked 'Ro for the details about it, and Logan knew there was no way to do that without getting 'Ro's suspicions up.
As for Ororo. . . where the hell was she, anyway? Logan glared at himself in the mirror for a moment longer, then stomped to the door and left the room without another thought. He didn't bother to turn out the light, and as the door swung shut silently behind him he paused in the middle of the hall and sniffed deeply.
Vanilla again. Sweet and soft and very faint. There was always a faint lingering of the scent around him now, from sleeping next to the dark beauty every night, but this was a little stronger than the scents that clung to him. He lowered his head and sniffed again, then started off in a loping trot for the intersecting hall just past the elevator.
He paused where the hall turned abruptly to the right, noting that the scent was slightly stronger now. She hadn't passed this way, but she was up ahead. . . she'd probably taken the back stairs. . . oh, yeah. Logan suddenly stopped as his eyes focused on a silvery light gleaming faintly at the far end of the hall. The parlor. . . she was out on the balcony. He grinned to himself in the darkness and headed in the direction of the balcony lanterns, deliberately softening his step so that he could pass unnoticed.
His entrance to the parlor was quieter than an whisper. One of the French doors stood partially open, the soft night breezes gently ruffling the lace curtains that hung over the glass, and through the opaque fabric he could see a familiar feminine form leaning casually against the stone balustrade. The lanterns out on the terrace cast ghostly shadows over the ornate furniture of the parlor, making it easy for Logan to pick his way carefully and silently across the room and through the door onto the balcony undetected.
One step. . . two. . . he slid up behind Ororo and wrapped his powerful arms around her, burying his face in her neck with a growl. She jumped and shrieked a little as he nuzzled against her neck.
"Hey, beautiful. . . whatcha doin' out here alone?"
"Logan!" Ororo scolded. She laughed shakily and tried to squirm out of his embrace. "My Goddess! You scared me half to death!"
He chuckled darkly and held her tighter, only relinquishing his grip enough to allow her to turn around and face him. "You don't look dead yet, darlin'," he rumbled, keeping one arm locked around her waist while he gently cupped her breast through her shirt with his free hand. One rough thumb rubbed lightly against the pert nipple straining against the fabric of her blouse. "In fact, you don't feel dead, either," he added with a sly grin.
She lowered her lids and regarded him with a slow smile. "You're an evil, evil man, Logan," she said, laughing softly. A hiss of pleasure escaped her lips as he stroked her nipple more forcefully. "You had better stop," she continued, without much conviction. "What if someone sees us?"
"Does it look like I give a shit?" he growled softly. Both of his arms went around her waist again, and he pulled her against his chest and bent his head to hers. Her lips met his in a hot, ravaging kiss, and Logan allowed his hands to slide up her back and into the glorious white halo of her hair as he lost himself in the taste of her.
*****
Remy and Rogue had sat in companionable silence for a long while after the sound of Logan's motorcycle had faded, but Rogue was surprised to find that she wasn't the least uncomfortable about the lack of conversation. Normally she made a complete fool of herself in the presence of boys (especially the ones she had secret crushes on), because the long, inevitable silences made her nervous and she tried any method of lame conversation in a desperate effort to keep the talk going. Not with Remy, though. . . Rogue wondered at this, then decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth (as her mama used to say) and just enjoy the welcome respite.
Remy shifted slightly on the bench and lifted the arm he had around Rogue's shoulders. She stiffened as she felt his fingers brush her hair, and it took a concentrated effort not to bolt from under his touch.
"Remy can touch your hair, non?" he asked, his husky voice tinged with amusement.
"Yeah, you can. . . Ah'm sorry," Rogue replied hastily. "Ah'm just a little nervous. . . not used tah folks wantin' tah touch me."
Remy paused, fingering a chestnut curl thoughtfully. "Remy t'ink dat a shame, chere," he said finally, his voice soft.
Rogue blushed, grateful for the concealing darkness. "It's sweet of you tah say so," she replied, risking a small glance at Remy. He met her eyes with a genuine smile, and she smiled shyly in return.
"Remy ask you a question?"
"Sure. . . Ah guess."
"How you get dis white streak in your hair?"
"Oh. . . that." Rogue ran a gloved hand through her hair, scattering brown and white curls every which way. She looked charmingly disheveled, if she had but known it. "It's kinda a long story. . . Ah was captured by this bad guy. . . this evil mutant named Magneto, an' he put me in this machine that kinda fried my hair before Logan could rescue me." She grinned a little at the memory. "Come tah think of it, that machine damn near fried ME."
Remy's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Sounds like you had an interestin' time, petite."
"You might say that."
A small shriek rang through the night above them, and both of them suddenly snapped their attentions to the balcony above them. Rogue tensed. . . then relaxed as she recognized the tall man pulling Ororo into his embrace. Ororo's soft laughter drifted down to them, and Rogue grinned to herself.
Remy watched the couple on the terrace with some interest. "Dat be de Wolverine, non? De one you call Logan?" he asked.
"Yep. . . that's him," Rogue replied. She watched Logan lean close to Ororo, whispering something in her ear that made the dark-skinned woman smile, then he pulled her closer, their mouths meeting in a passionate kiss. Rogue felt the color rise to her cheeks again. . . it was VERY obvious from the way Logan was kissing her that they had no idea Rogue and Remy were below them. . . and Rogue looked hurriedly away as Remy chuckled beside her.
"Mon dieu!" Remy laughed softly. "De Wolverine have a definite way wit' de ladies, non?"
Rogue swallowed hard, her face burning. "Ah guess so," she mumbled. Jeez, this was embarrassing. . . she wanted to bury her face in her hands like a kid, but she gritted her teeth and silently cursed Logan instead.
"Dat Mam'selle Munroe, non?" Remy asked.
"Yep."
"Dat his woman?"
"Ah guess you might say that," Rogue replied. She sneaked another look at the pair on the balcony, and breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw they were behaving themselves again. At the same time, Remy's arm tightened imperceptibly around her shoulders. She turned to look at him curiously, and was startled to find him looking back at her, his eerie devil's eyes fixed on hers.
"Wh-what?" she asked timidly.
"Not'in', chere," Remy drawled softly, his lips curling into a slow grin. "Remy jus' wonderin'. . . if anybody ever told you how beautiful your eyes were."
"I. . . uh. . . " Rogue stuttered into silence. . . had she heard him correctly? His smile widened and he took her gloved hand in his free one, bringing it to his lips while never taking his eyes off her face. He kissed it gently, lingering with his breath over the cool leather covering her fingers.
"Relax, chere. . . please," he said again, his warm laugh making Rogue shiver. "Remy done told you he's a gentleman. . . you are safe wit' him. Remy promise."
She laughed a little. "The one you should be worried about is yourself, Remy."
"Non. . . not at all," he replied, his eyes glittering with gentle mischief. "It not often dat Remy see such a beautiful woman. . . an' if you were ever tah touch him, Remy would consider it a worthy risk."
She pulled away from him a little, her lips quirking. "Are you for real, Remy LeBeau?"
Remy's grin grew wider. "Remy might just ask you de same t'ing."
*****
Logan released Ororo from his kiss with some reluctance, and she smiled and darted her tongue across her lips, her eyelashes lowered seductively.
"Any more dizzy spells?" he asked.
"Nope. . . I'm fine," she replied. "I'm glad you're back, though," she added with a flirtatious smile. "Did you get anything for me?"
"Should I have?" Logan asked playfully, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead.
"I asked you to."
He chuckled softly. "Maybe I did, then," he replied. He caught her hand in his, his arm tightening around her waist, and brought her fingers to his mouth, where he sucked her index finger briefly. She tensed deliciously against him, and he responded with a soft growl.
"When can I have it?" she purred, rubbing her finger against his bottom lip.
"I haven't decided yet," he said.
She lifted a delicate eyebrow and regarded him with a half serious smile. "You haven't decided?" she asked. Her hand pulled free of his to drift down past his belt, where she rubbed the growing hardness through the rough denim of his jeans. "Seems like something has already decided for you," she teased.
He growled again, the bass notes rumbling in the depths of his chest. "All right, you minx. . . "
"Well, is that my surprise or isn't it?" she asked with feigned innocence, her smile growing impish.
"That's not the surprise I initially had in mind," Logan said. He groaned softly as her fingers rubbed more insistently. "But you keep this up, and you're going to get surprised right here on the balcony. . . and Rogue is going to get a bigger eyeful than she bargained for."
Ororo pulled away slightly. "Rogue? What do you mean?"
Logan laughed. "She's down there, on the back lawn. . . with the Cajun kid."
"Oh. . . my. . . Goddess. . . " Ororo snatched away from Logan in embarrassment, backing away from the balcony railing with her cheeks flushing darkly. "How do you know?" she asked, casting a glance down at the shadowed grounds beneath them. "I don't see anything."
"How couldn't I know?" Logan replied. "I can hear her, even if you can't, and I could smell that damn cologne the Cajun wears a mile away."
"You beast! Why didn't you tell me?" she choked, half mortified and half laughing at the same time.
Logan spread his hands and shrugged. "Because you seemed to be enjoying yourself."
"Ohhhh. . . you lousy. . . " She rushed at him and began to pummel him playfully, and he laughed and caught her against his chest, holding her tight so she couldn't get to his ticklish spots. She squirmed, her back against his chest, and he laughed again and nuzzled her neck, making her squeal and fight half-heartedly before they finally both relented and stumbled back against the stonework.
Panting softly, she giggled again and let her head fall back against his chest, her face turned slightly and nestled against the warm heat of his throat. He seemed content to hold her in silence, staring out at the night sky with a suddenly pensive expression. She mused on this. . . it had been like this for weeks, she realized. . . these constant sudden shifts from incredible good humor to deep, thoughtful silence. What was going on with him?
"So, what did you get me?" she finally asked.
He glanced down at her and smiled. "A surprise."
"Oh, you," she grumbled. "When can I have it?"
He took a deep breath, his face serious. "I'm still thinking about it. . . it's sort of special, I guess. . . and I don't want to give it to you just any old time."
She turned her head a little more and studied him curiously. "You make it sound so mysterious, Logan," she said softly. "Tell me. . . please?"
He laughed and spun her out from him, pulling her close again so that she faced him this time. "Nope. . . you've gotta wait," he replied.
"Must I?"
"Yep." He caught her around the waist again, then took up her hand in his free one and began to dance slowly with her on the terrace. She began to giggle a little again as he led her around gently, twirling her, pulling her close again, then changing direction as she followed his lead with surprising grace.
"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly. He started humming tunelessly under his breath, a serene smile on his face as he danced with her in his arms.
"Dancing."
"I gathered that," she retorted with a laugh. "But why now. . . here?"
"Why not?" he asked. He chuckled again, lowering his head for a moment to steal a kiss from her parted lips. "Or don't you like my humming?"
"I love your humming, dearest," she said, giggling like a schoolgirl as he swept her around in a dizzying circle.
"You could sing."
"Oh, Goddess, no!" Ororo laughed. "I couldn't carry a tune if it had handles on it."
Logan threw back his head and laughed, and the two of them danced under the night sky, the thousands of stars over their heads twinkling in time to a music only they could hear.
*****
Remy held Rogue's eyes for a moment more, and then another soft giggle floated down to them and his attention, and hers, returned to the pair on the balcony above them. Rogue blinked, then blinked again. . . sure that she wasn't seeing correctly.
"Are they. . . dancing?" she asked, almost to herself.
"Oui, dey are," Remy replied. He watched them with a half-admiring look on his face. "De Wolverine. . . 'e's a good dancer, non? Remy wouldn't have t'ought it tah look at him."
"You ain't kiddin', sugah," Rogue breathed. What in the world. . . she never would have believed it. Remy was right. . . Logan was good, extremely good. Even she, who knew next to nothing about REAL slow-dancing, could tell that Logan knew what he was doing. Jeez. . . the man was just full of surprises. "Miss Munroe's doin' a good job, too," Rogue commented softly.
"Oui. . . he doin' most of de leadin', but she follows well." Remy sighed and leaned back against the bench again. "Remy love to dance, chere. . . just like dat. But most filles dese days don't know how to dance anymore."
"You. . . you know how tah dance like that?" she asked. She stole another glance at Logan, her heart speeding up a little. Gosh. . . they looked like something out of a fairy tale.
"Sure. . . Remy a natural dancer," he replied with a rakish grin. "You want Remy tah show you how?" he asked.
"Ah. . . " she began, but she never had a chance to finish. The night wind carried the sound of sneakered feet on grass thumping toward them, and then John's tousled self came careening around the side of the house.
"Hey! There you guys are!" John puffed. "How long you been out here?"
"Not long," Remy replied.
"Bobby and the girls are cooking up a game of poker in Kitty's room," John said. "You guys wanna play?"
"Absolutement," Remy said. He stood up and turned to Rogue, offering her his hand. "You comin' too, chere?"
"Yeah, Ah guess," she said as cheerfully as she could. Remy helped her to her feet with a charming smile, then the three of them started off for the house.
Rogue took her time walking. . . the boys were soon deep in conversation, with John's confession that he didn't know how to play and Remy assuring him that he would teach him, and Rogue took the opportunity to steal one more peek at the balcony above them. Logan and Ororo were gone now, but the seed of an idea had already been planted.
Item One, Rogue thought. Remy likes my smile. Item Two. . . he likes to dance.
So she would learn to dance. And who better to teach her than. . . Logan.
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