Logan sat on the porch of the mansion, inhaling deeply on his cigar. It had been two days since he had sneaked Ororo out of the mansion, and for two days his mind had been in turmoil. Dammit...he flicked ash from the end of his cigar into the growing twilight, wondering for the millionth time just what in the fuck he was supposed to do now.
Everything had been so damn simple two days ago. At first, he had been angry with himself for being so transparent to Jean...it was bad enough that he was lusting after Ororo, but to have Jean know about it...he shook his head, disgusted. Still, he knew she wouldn't say anything, and he could live with the fact that he was in love with a girl he couldn't have. Ororo was his friend, first and foremost, and he wouldn't jeopardize that friendship for anything...not even to soothe his own aching heart. Ororo would never know.
But then everything had changed. It had started shortly after Ororo had awakened in the medlab, after Jean had left to go relieve Scott from her classes. Logan had been sitting close to her, enjoying her scent...a soft mixture of vanilla and shampoo...and he had reached out to touch her shoulder bandage. The gauze had been a startling white against the creamy brown of her shoulder, and although he knew he shouldn't, he casually let his finger slip off the bandage and, just barely, stroke the softness of her skin.
Her shoulder had tensed almost imperceptibly, and he'd snatched his hand away, fearing he had offended her or hurt her somehow...then his acute sense of smell had picked up something strange. She had asked him what was the matter...he had managed to keep his composure and the conversation going, but inside his heart was pounding.
Her smell...her smell had changed, only moments after his fingers had brushed her skin. Vanilla and shampoo, yes...but there was something else as well. Something incredible.
After Jean had returned and asked him to let Ororo rest, he had prowled the halls of the mansion, thinking. His senses must have been playing tricks on him...maybe his own longing for her had somehow clouded his mind and made him confuse his own scent for hers. The logical part of his mind agreed...yes, that must be it...but the animal instinct in him knew he hadn't been wrong. There was no way, beacuse there was no scent in the world like that of a female when she was aroused, a female excited by the touch of the male she has chosen.
Ororo had smelled like desire.
For the first time in his life, Logan refused to trust his instincts and had pushed those thoughts from his mind, certain that he had been mistaken. It was impossible...Ororo was beautiful, graceful, elegant...what could she possibly find attractive in a man like him? It was stupid to do this shit to himself, so he resolved to forget about it.
He almost succeeded. He was fine until the next day, when he hit on the brilliant idea of taking her out for ice cream. Carrying her in his arms again had been nice, and her scent was sweet and normal and everything was right in the world...until he put her in the car. He had turned his head to look at her, to make sure she was okay and that he hadn't put her down too hard, and then his breath had stopped in his throat.
Too close...those gorgeous brown eyes were inches from his, burning into him with a slow fire. His nostrils flared, inhaling the rich mix of vanilla and lust that was coming from her, and he felt his breathing quicken...his eyes roamed over her face, coming to rest on her full, soft lips, and suddenly he wanted to kiss her...now. He wanted to ease her back on the seat, to ravage her with his mouth, to tear off those clothes and...
Abruptly he pulled away from her, shoving the images out of his mind. Jesus, what was he thinking? He thanked every god there had ever been that Ororo was a weather witch and not a telepath, and when she asked him what was wrong, he'd simply told her she smelled nice and got out of the car as fast as possible. He'd been a nervous wreck the rest of the day...afraid to touch her, afraid of what he might do if he scented that delicious perfume again.
It hadn't become any easier, either. He knew he couldn't avoid her...she was still his friend, after all...but every time he was with her he began noticing other things besides her scent. Sometimes he caught her staring at him, and she would blush and look away...like she was hiding something or some emotion she didn't want him to see. He would accidentally brush up against her...well, sort of accidentally...and she wouldn't move away. Instead, she would lean against him, the softness of her body against his nearly driving him insane...and for the first time he began to wonder whether he had been correct about her feelings for him. Maybe he had been wrong...maybe it wasn't just friendship for her, either.
Maybe...just maybe...she wanted him too.
He shook his head and took another long drag on the cigar. It seemed so impossible...like he had told Jean, he just wasn't that lucky. Maybe he should just forget about it...ignore it and simply enjoy being her friend. Maybe...
"Logan?"
He turned, startled from his thoughts, and saw Jean standing in the long shadows of the porch. She was smiling at him, her expression curious, and she came toward him with that graceful little walk of hers.
"What's the matter? Rogue said you were looking for me," she said, coming to stand before him with her arms crossed. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah. Everything's fine, I just..." He sighed and stubbed out his cigar on the porch railing. "I just needed to talk to you for a few minutes, if you're not busy."
"Not busy at all," she said. She leaned against the railing and tilted her head to the side. "What is it?"
Logan braced himself on the railing as well, unable to meet her eyes, then he groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Damn, this is hard...I just need a woman's opinion, that's all, and I know I can trust you." He growled a little. "After all, you've kept my secrets pretty well, so far."
Jean smiled. "I promised, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did." He turned to her and searched for her eyes in the darkness, then snorted. "Shit. I wish you'd just read my mind or something. This is hard as hell to say out loud."
"I don't need to read your mind, Logan," she said. "It's written on your face. You've changed your mind, and now you want to tell Ororo how you feel." She raised her head and looked at him steadily. "But you're afraid."
Logan stared at her in silence, shocked, as always, by the quick astuteness of Jean's perceptions. "Maybe you should get a job with one of those psychic hotlines," he muttered.
Jean laughed. "And miss out on this mutant soap opera? No thanks," she said. Then her face sobered, and she watched him seriously. "I think you should tell her, Logan. I think you might be surprised."
"That's what I'm afraid of," he said. He looked out at the deepening shadows of the lawn and sighed. "I'm not good enough for her, Jeannie."
"That's not true, Logan. You may be a little rough around the edges," she laughed. "But you're a good man, and an honorable one."
Logan gave her a rueful smile. "Thanks, Jean...but I don't think my sense of "honor" is exactly what Ororo is looking for."
"I think you're wrong. I've seen the way she looks at you."
"And how is that?"
"Like she loves you," Jean said, smiling gently.
Logan closed his eyes and turned away. That was the problem...loving Ororo was simple, because he could keep it to himself and no one got hurt except him. His own pain was okay...he was used to it. But, now...knowing that there was a chance, no matter how small, that he might have her...how could he stay away? Staying away from her was exactly what he should do, because he knew with horrible certainty that he would only hurt her...it was inevitable. Hurting people was what he was best at.
A sudden wave of loneliness swept over him. To be able to kiss her, to hold her in his arms and take her to his bed and know that when he opened his eyes the next morning she would still be there...she was everything he had ever wanted, and everything he couldn't have.
"I can't, Jean," he said finally. "I can't tell her."
"But why?" Jean asked, staring at him in confusion.
"Because I would only hurt her," he said quietly. "Maybe not right away, but eventually...and I love her too much to do that."
Jean stared at him in silence. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," she said, her voice suddenly laced with anger. "You're such a fucking coward!"
Logan recoiled...Jean had never spoken to him like that before. "I'd take that back if I were you," he growled.
"I will NOT take it back," she snapped, facing him without fear. "It's okay to be afraid, Logan...but to hide behind some stupid excuse about hurting her..."
Logan snarled and grabbed Jean by the arms, yanking her close to his face. "How's this feel, Jean?" he asked, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage, his hard fingers digging into her flesh and making her gasp in pain. "Hurts, doesn't it? This is who I am...I hurt people, and I'm fucking good at it." He shoved her away, and Jean backed away from him, rubbing her arms. "Ororo needs a gentle touch," he muttered. "And I can't give her that."
"I don't think you're giving her enough credit," Jean replied. "Ororo's not some fragile flower that you're going to crush, Logan...she's a member of the X-men, a fighter. Just like you." She winced and rubbed her shoulders again. "Her temper is a little better, though."
Logan flinched, then his shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Jesus, Jean...I'm sorry," he said softly. "That was uncalled for."
"It's okay," she said. "I pushed you too hard...I deserved it." She laughed quietly in the darkness. "It's the hopeless romantic in me, I guess." She smiled, then looked toward the lights shining through the door to the house. "Ororo will be okay to leave the medlab tomorrow," she said, almost as an afterthought. "She wanted me to let you know."
He nodded a little, not looking at her. "That's good to hear."
Jean watched him in silence. "Maybe you should start listening to your own advice, Logan," she said softly.
He turned his head slightly. "And what advice is that?"
"Follow your instincts," Jean replied. "Isn't that what you always say?"
"Yeah, something like that." He watched her from his shadows, then nodded. "Maybe you're right."
"Of course I am." They looked at each other for a long while, then she smiled.
"It's late, and Scott will wonder where I am," she said. "I'd better go."
"Yeah. No telling what One-Eye will do if he catches you talking to me again," Logan said. "At least we're not in my bedroom this time."
"Thank God." Jean laughed and opened the door. "Goodnight, Logan," she said.
"Goodnight, Jean." He watched her go, then leaned back against the railing and stared at the night sky. A few stars were there, bright pinpoints of diamond against the darkness.
Follow your instincts, Jean had said. Jean was right...he was afraid. Afraid of taking a chance, afraid that if he didn't he would always wonder what might have been.
Maybe he could do this...or at least try. He loved Ororo, and if she felt the same way...well, he owed it to her to try.
Ororo would be returning to her room tomorrow, and he suddenly realized he wanted to do something nice for her. Sort of a "welcome back" kind of thing...he listened to his instincts, trusting them to guide him in the right direction.
Logan thought for a long while, then a slow grin spread across his face and he walked quickly back into the house.
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