Title: Crush
Author: cataclysmiic
Disclaimer: Not mine. Stan Lee's.
Rating: PG.
Verse: Movie, during X1.
Characters/Pairing: Mostly Jean/Logan, bit o' wistful Logan/Rogue, bit o' non-serious Storm/Logan.
Word Count: 846
Summary: The subject of Logan makes me strangely irritable, mostly because it confuses the hell out of me. It tends to bring up many more questions than answers, it makes my face flush and in general, I tend to feel completely out of control.
I can hear Ororo and Rogue talking about him on my way back from the kitchen.
"That voice of his," Storm comments, accentuating with a low, predatory laugh. I hear Rogue giggle.
"Ah know. An' ah bet you could see those bah-ceps from outer space."
"He's definitely a looker."
I round the corner now, all smiles and sunshine.
"Hey Jean, what do you think makes Logan so inexplicably attractive?" I'm asked amidst another wave of giggles and hormones.
I want to chastise Ororo, at least, for acting so very shamelessly adolescent, but the truth is I'm just uncomfortable. It's a good thing neither woman is a fellow mind-reader, because all of the answers that are running through my head at that moment are horribly inappropriate.
So I just laugh. It comes out casual, and I thank god I've spent the better part of twenty years perfecting that trademark control. "His inability to help clean up dirty dishes from the rec room, maybe," I say, and throw them each a 'don't-worry-about-it' grin. My hands reach out to retrieve the remainders of our lunch from where they'd been discarded previously on the billiard table.
"Ah think it's his eyes," Rogue comments, and the waft of feeling I pick up from her would have made her blush scarlet if she knew I'd felt it.
She really needs to work on some thought screening if she wants to keep any privacy around here.
"It's that bad boy personality," Storm counters.
It's both, I think. It's the way he looks at you and you feel as if you're suddenly completely stripped of not just clothing, but of any defenses. You're completely at his mercy when your eyes lock and he knows it. He lets you feel exposed, he likes it, and he doesn't give a damn if your breath is caught in your chest and you have to reach out to steady yourself against the wall.
Out loud I say, more than a little sarcastically, "Leather and motorcycles and a defiant eye. The classic recipe."
"I wonder how many women he's been with," Storm questions out loud, and while Rogue bursts into a fresh set of the giggles I drop our sandwich wrappers and empty potato chip bags into the garbage. On my way back over, I smack Ororo upside the head.
"Don't you think that's a bit of an inappropriate question?" I ask, but I'm smiling, and she's rubbing her head and giving me a playful glare.
"At least fifty," Rogue guesses.
"I'd say more than that. I bet he could get any woman he wanted." Storm grins maliciously. She prods Rogue with her elbow and they begin to laugh again.
My heartbeat speeds up faster and I clear my throat, busying myself with fluffing the pillows.
"I wouldn't say no." Storm says firmly. "He's got that look about him. Who'd refuse?"
I know that they're joking, but it feels like dangerous ground. I pause, close my eyes, and Scott's face shimmers to the surface of my memory.
"But he's so detached from the rest of tha' world. Such a loner. I dunno if ah could imagine it."
I remember his hands on mine, the way they felt rough and dominant. Felt as if they'd do anything you could imagine them to, and better. I remember looking into his eyes for the first time. They're dark, with pinpricks of light. When you focus on the light, really focus, you can see something beneath it. Something frightened and vulnerable and entirely human. Something that makes your heart race, makes you want to bring his face close to yours, to wraps your arms around his body, and see if there really is something so gentle beneath the animal exterior.
"And yet he can be a real smartass," I say aloud, scowling, even though I hardly realize it until they both turn around to look at me.
Ororo smiles. "He is a real smartass."
I shake my head, clearing away the thoughts and feelings I should be having for no one but my finance.
"All I'm saying is that Logan is incredibly infatuation-worthy."
"Yeah," Rogue agrees. "It's all that mystery."
I shake my head again. The subject of Logan makes me strangely irritable, mostly because it confuses the hell out of me. It tends to bring up many more questions than answers, it makes my face flush and in general, I tend to feel completely out of control. Which I loathe.
I just want to get out of here.
And then Ororo has to go and ask The Question.
"C'mon Jean, don't you have just a little crush on the man?"
My face is set and I reach out to grab all three of our empty glasses off of the coffee table, and then straightening up I turn to head back towards the kitchen. I grant only one word in reply as I begin to walk away, staring unblinkingly and determinedly ahead of me. One firm, semi-nonchalant word, but I'm trying to convince myself just as much as I'm trying to convince her.
"No."