The Cabin

Author's Note: FYI, this story is told from Marie's POV. Scott is still alive, Jean is dead, and so is Xavier. Magneto and his 'bad' crew aren't really a problem in this story either. This story will be a chapter story, but it's sort of starting out like my one shot called This is the usual happy ending story, so…like, don't worry or anything. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Pine, Cigar Smoke, Beer and Mint

Logan's always leaving on his road trips. He writes to me from time to time, telling me all about his cage-fighting adventures and how he's been dating those floozies and tarts that he picks up at the bars he frequently visits. I call them bar flies. But anyways…I should have known, right? I'm just 'the kid' to Logan and that's all I ever will be.

But the thing is, I would have never ever been prepared for Logan fucking Howlett to walk through the front door of the academy again. He was known for running, taking year-long trips on the road. I thought that he sure as hell wasn't going to come back to a school that left him with so many scars and painful memories. But again, that man proves me wrong.

Everyone bombards him with hugs and warm hello's. Over time, he'd quickly become a favorite teacher. But when he left…things changed. I watch him grinning those Wolverine grins and nodding his head politely at all the excited kids and staff members that are glad to have him back. I'll have to say that he did put a little bit of life into this school.

He's getting the perfect reunion, I'd say. I stay back near the stairs trying to walk through the walls like Kitty. I'd swap mutations with her any day. Her amazing talent for my deadly skin that didn't allow me to connect with anyone.

The damn hallway's so full that I can't squeeze out and go back to my room for some peace. I'm left pinned to the wall like a dart on a dartboard. He's scanning the crowd with his deep brown eyes now, and I know he's looking for me. He never writes to anyone else but me. Not even Storm, and I heard it through the grapevine that they had something going before I left.

Well fuck the grapevine.

Logan says he just 'ain't got no time for writing, and that sort of crafty thing', and that he only does it because he knows how much I care about him. Do I care? I'd say no, but my family was mighty religious before I hightailed my ass to this academy, and it's an awful sin to lie.

I find myself frowning when I see Kitty hanging on Logan's arm like a drape. First she took Bobby from me, and now she's trying for Logan. I snort to myself.

Yeah right.

I'd say I like Kitty, 'cept the sinning part keeps me from doing so. I stop trying to be a chameleon and I step out into the crowd. Logan's eyes find me instantly. It makes me smile when I see him shake Kitty off of his arm like she's an annoying child and comes bounding over to me. Before I can register what he's doing, he's got me in his arms, squished against his body so tight that I can barely breathe. I inhale deeply. He smells like Logan: pine trees, cigar smoke, beer, and fresh mint leaves.

It's such a familiar scent to me, but I haven't smelled it in years. I almost forgot what a Wolverine smells like.

He releases me and steps back to take a look at me. "Hey, kid." There goes the nickname again. I can't help but smile. His smile vanishes as he stares me. I feel week inside—what's the matter with him? I begin to panic with the thought that there's something disgusting stuck between my teeth, and he's mortified by it. I close my mouth and swipe my tongue across my teeth.

I'm fine; there's no food stuck in my teeth. "What is it?" I finally ask him. I push my hair over my shoulder and nervously shift in my place.

"Nothin'," he murmurs, running a hand through his wind-blown hair. "I just haven't seen ya in a real long time. You've really become a woman, eh?" His eyes trail downwards from my face and land on my chest. He nods as if to say, 'hell yeah.'

I clear my throat and watch as his eyes snap from my chest back to my eyes. He's a man, I don't blame him for trying to look. "Well, it has been four years since I last saw you. Of course you'd know that I'd change."

He tucks a strand of my white highlighted bangs behind my ear and splays his palm on my warm cheek. I lean into his warm touch. "Of course…" It takes him a second before he realizes what he's doing. He removes his hand from my skin before touching me again in awe. "Kid…your mutation?"

I nod and smile again. Proudly, this time, because I know there's no food stuck in my teeth. "I can control it now, Logan."

He laughs and brings me in for another hug. "Atta girl," he praises me, burying his nose in the crook of my neck. My hands find his shoulders and I hang onto him like my life depends on t. "M'proud of ya."

"Thanks." He releases me when Storm, Scott, and Hank come in to greet him and welcome him back. I slink away into the crowds again as his attention turns onto the others.

0o0o0o0o

"Girl, seriously? Why are you sitting here like a bump on the log while Wolfie's out there probably looking for you?" Jubilee exclaims at me, throwing her hand sin the air. "365 days out of the year you're whining and crying for him to come back, and now that he is…"

I snort and flip the page of my book. "I do not whine and cry. I don't know who you're talking about, but it sure as hell ain't me." Jubes puts her hands on her hips. She snatches the book from my hands and tosses it into her pink trashcan.

"Okay, maybe you don't whine and cry. But seriously, you've got to get out there and talk to him." She prances around the room like a nervous wreck. Nervous for what? I'm the one that has to talk to Logan. "Come on."

I stare at my book longingly. It's just sitting there in the trash can waiting to be read. Jubilee sighs and zaps my book with her explosive sparkles. My book shrivels up inside of the trash. I stare in shock and push back my hair. "That was a library book, Jubilation Lee."

She cringes when I say her full name. "Yeah, well I can pay the librarian later. Little Women is shit anyways." She leans on her right leg and blows a shiny pink gum bubble.

"How dare you! Little Women is a beloved classic."

"Beloved classic my ass, chica."

The bell that signals dinner goes off loudly and I hear kids rushing out of their dorms to head down to the mess hall. I reluctantly get up from my spot on her bed and follow her out the door. People are rushing down the hallway like a mob. Jubilee drags me down the hallway.

Just when she lets go, I'm nearly run over by someone. It's Kitty. I regain my balance and hiss her way. Jubilee pulls the middle finger, but they don't see it. Bobby's gripping Kitty's hand tightly and she's giggling as he blows snowflake kisses at her. "C'mon, I have a faster way to get to the mess hall," Kitty tells him. She takes his hand and they sink down through the floor.

I find myself still seething at them in rage. That bitch—

Jubes snaps her fingers in front of my eyes. "Hey. Hey—they're a bunch of bumblefucks, and I don't think you should even start to worry about them. I don't think they know that using the stairs is the latest trend.

I laugh as we make our way down to the mess hall for dinner. I sit at the X-Men table. I guess that Jubes and I can officially call ourselves X-Men. I spot Hank, Scott, and Storm already sitting at the table.

Bobby and Kitty sit at the end of the X-Men table, covering each other with unneeded affection that I never got from Bobby since I couldn't touch. Somebody call the damned cops. Too much PDA.

A squeal snaps me out of my hateful trance. Jubes is looking straight at me with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. Logan's making his way over to the table. He sits down next to Hank, who in turn, slaps him hard on the back as a welcoming. Logan grunts. Everyone underestimates gentle Hank's brute force.

Storm smiles at me from afar. I sit next to her and Scott despite Jubilee's incessant pleading that I sit with her near Logan. I'm sitting across from him, isn't that enough? I glance back at Logan. The servers come around with our plates of food.

I find Logan digging into his like he hasn't eaten in days. I stare down at my plate and stab my fork into the chicken leg. "Rogue," a gruff voice calls my name. I glance around the table, seeing that everyone was wrapped up in conversation. Then I look at Logan.

He's giving me that Wolverine grin. I blush, my insides turning to goop. "Actually, I go by Marie now."

He nods and takes a sip of his beer. I chuckle softly. Never without his Molson's is Logan. "Marie…" He tries it out on his tongue. "I like it."

I flush again at the compliment. Damn, I think I should just turn pink already. "Thanks." It seems like I don't know what to say to Logan anymore. I'm running out of ideas.

"Mmm," he grunts at me.

"You still cage fightin'?" I ask him. He nods his head slowly, setting down his beer on the table. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Always," he tells me. "Brings in big bucks. They say I'm the best there is."

I purse my lips. "Well you do have bones made out of adamantium." I point out to him. He nods and grins again. "I ought to see you fight one day."

"S'dangerous," he cuts in. "Don't want you gettin' hurt."

I receive a sharp kick under the table from someone who enjoys wearing pointed tipped boots. I hiss and look over at Jubilee. She's smirking and looking down at her plate. I kick her back in agitation. Logan raises an eyebrow when he hears her squeak.

I turn my attention back to him. "I heard your birthday's comin' up soon, kiddo." He comments, using his fork to stab at the green beans. "I got a good present in mind."

I smile at him. "Do ya?"

He nods his head and shovels in a mouthful of country-style green beans. "How old you gon' be, Rogue—ah, Marie?

"I'll be 23," I say.

He grunts and shakes his head in astonishment. Logan looks back down at his food. His chicken's been completely devoured—it's all bones. He eats stuff real good, I guess. I blush a deep red color. Eats stuff real good. I slap the naughty thought out of mind before it can develop further.

"So old," he remarks with a little quirk to his lips.

He says it like I'm ancient or something. "Hey," I interject. "Look who's talking, Mr. I-Can't-Age. You were probably around when Da Vinci started paintin' the Mona Lisa."

The whole table starts to laugh. I must have said the comeback pretty loud because some of the other tables start to snicker quietly. Even Logan himself looked like he was amused by my snide little comment.

Really, I wasn't known for making funny comments. That was more along the lines of Jubilee. Me, on the other hand, would usually be the only one laughing at my stupid jokes. "Touché," Logan says, setting his fork down on his plate. "You got me there, kid."

I look down at the table with a rosy blush creeping up in my cheeks. Scott's still laughing because everyone knows that he hates Logan with a passion after he threatened to take Jean away from him (though he still ended up doing so). So that's why I'm sure he's laughing at the joke when nobody else is.

Over the time that Logan was on the road, I made some pretty good friends. Scott and I have become closer than ever. He really let me in after Logan left, because we were both hurting at that time. I could relate to him in ways, and he could relate to me.

Another friend was Remy, the Cajun flirt with the really thick accent. He pursued me whenever he could. At first I admired his forwardness, but now it's kind of feeling pushy. I learned to look past the flirty part of his personality though, and we quickly became good friends over the summer.

Except he still always beats me at Poker and my favorite game, Rummy 500. Hell, the man even beats me at Go-Fish.

I also have a sort-of secret. The reason Scott still likes to hang around his 'student' is because we kissed this one time. He got drunk at the Christmas party three years ago and he tugged me into the hallway to chat. He confessed to me how much of a healing factor I was to him and I said the same about him. Honestly, it touched me that he felt that way.

So Scott kissed me that night. And I kissed him back.

I'll admit that did feel good to be kissed and touched like he did to me. Don't worry, we didn't sleep together. I'm not like that. I know that Scott would have never forgiven himself if we did. And neither would I.

The bond between Scott and I never really broke. We still sort-of talk sort-of sometimes and we sort-of remember our little sort-of secret.

"How old are you, Logan? A century?" Scott asks, beaming brightly. His white-toothed smile nearly blinds me.

"Watch it, Scooter," Logan growls. Everyone laughs again, including me. 'Cept I laugh so hard that tears spring from eyes like a leaky faucet. My real laugh is so hideous that I feel like cringing whenever I hear it. But everyone seems to love it way more than I do. They say it's one of those contagious laughs, that when I start to laugh, everyone joins along.

But the real point is that, after all these years, Logan still hasn't forgotten Scott's old nickname. Logan always knew how to push Scott's buttons and he still does. Scooter was one of those nicknames that he would pay a million dollars to everyone to forget. I dip my spoon into my mashed potatoes and taste the warm gravy on my tongue. The food's been crazy good ever since the academy got a new cook. Jubes agrees too, and that says something since she's a vegetarian and all.

0o0o0o0o

"That really pisses me off," Scott mumbles as he walks down the hallway. I have to nearly run to catch up with him. I'll have to admit that that dinner was one of the best we had in the mess hall. Usually with our table it's all about problems and crap that I don't want to hear about, but tonight it was actually somewhat fun.

"We all know you hate him," I tell him with a laugh. The whole world knows that Scott Summers hates Logan Howlett with a burning passion.

"Good," Scott grumbles.

"Is it because you hate when he calls you Scooter?" I ask him, even though I already know the answer. It's not like Scott's buttons aren't already pushed.

"You've got to be kidding me," he says, stopping in his tracks. He stares at me like I'm stupid. He steps into his room and stands in the doorway. I look into his room. It's neat, the King sized bed is made perfectly. It's late at night, probably about eleven o' clock at night.

After dinner I had headed to the gardens with Jubes and we sat and gossiped for a few hours. I talked about how much I despised Bobby and she talked about how much she wanted to rip out Kitty's weave. Even though Kitty doesn't have a weave, she still wanted to rip something out of Kitty.

"You wanna come in?" Scott asked, taking his voice down a few octaves. He must have noticed me staring at his perfectly made bed. I blush under his heated gaze (ha, ha) and I see his eyes flash with mischief under his special red glasses. I think maybe Scott's had too many beers.

I shake my head and I smile, thinking that if I don't go now Scott will be tempted to fuck me into oblivion. It's a sort-of secret, because last time Scott was drunk he actually did try to. I wouldn't let him, though. And he didn't remember it the next morning, so I didn't tell him. "I'm going to head downstairs for a little late night snack," I tell him quietly. Scott nods his head and begins to unbutton his shirt.

"Night, Marie." He tells me before ripping his white shirt off and closing the door in my face.

"N-night," I stutter. I race down the hallway and down the corridor stairs. It's a lot darker than I remember down there. Everyone's asleep, because Storm says everyone should be in bed by no later than 10:30 at night.

Sometimes I agree with her, sometimes I don't. Tonight I don't. Because there's vanilla ice cream in the freezer calling my name so sweetly, and I just can't resist.

I creep into the kitchen and flick on the lights. Empty. I do a mental fist pump. I swing open the refrigerator door and get out the beer. I'm weird because I like odd combinations. I fish out the ice cream from the freezer and get the glass cup from the cabinets.

I scoop out the vanilla ice cream and pop the top of a beer bottle. It was my idea of a root beer float. Except without the 'root' part. I make it my own. I fall in love with each sniff of my beer float.

I dig in, walking over to the kitchen lights and dimming them. I wouldn't want Storm catching me eating my special concoction. I melt into ice cream and beer heaven. Most girls don't like beer; I guess it's an acquired taste.

I get lost in my beer float, the sweet taste of the ice cream and the strong taste of beer. I almost don't notice when a half-naked Logan Howlett waltzes into the kitchen. He's wearing nothing but jeans. I don't think he notices me, because he goes straight for the fridge without a glance my way.

I gaze at the honey-toned skin in his back, how his muscles ripple and jump as he tenses and moves around near the fridge. He pops open a beer and downs half the damn thing in one sip. I stare, holding my spoon near my lips. He slams the fridge door shut turns around.

"Shit." Logan cusses loudly, not realizing that I was standing there all along. His eyes roam over my body, seeing my skanky white tank top that I'd worn under my nice blue blouse earlier. Then he sniffs the air and crinkles his nose. "The hell you drinkin' kid?"

I gulp. Suddenly the room has become awful warm and I can feel myself beginning to sweat. "Uhm…It's ah beer float," I tell him. I can tell that he admires my drink choice with the way he smirks.

"Well, that's different," he says. I stir my float with my spoon and take another sip. He tips the bottle to his lips, his eyes never leaving me. "I thought you'd be in bed."

I nod, and shake my glass. "Me too. But I needed a little something extra." He snorts and gives me one of those trademark Wolverine grins, where one corner of his mouth pulls up when he gets amused.

"A little somethin' extra, huh?"

I find myself blushing again. I glance over at the clock and see that it's nearing 11:00 at night. It would probably be a good idea to head back to my rooms before Storm really does find me down here and give me hell for it for the next week. I'm still classified as a student and she says that I should be treated like the others to be fair.

I finish the beer and ice cream and put the empty glass into the sink, rinsing it under the faucet. "I better head back to bed before someone catches me down here…cause I ain't supposed to be down 'ere." I try to exit the kitchen, but he blocks me from doing so.

"Your birthday's soon, ain't it?" he asks me. I nod at him. I'm surprised he even remembered. He only remembered my age because I told him, not because he kept track of my birthdays.

I wondered why he wondered. Logan was the kind of person that just didn't give a shit about anything or anyone. And I honestly didn't think he gave a shit about me either. Since he was always on the road…since I'm just the kid, and that's all I will ever be. "Yeah, it's tomorrow."

"Well, damn that's pretty close, ain't it? Yer gon' be 23, right?" he asks me. I can smell the Molson's on his breath. It's a familiar scent to me. Whenever I think of Logan, the various smells of him come to my mind. And that's how it will always be. Pine, cigar smoke, beer, and fresh mint will always belong to Logan.

"We just talked about this at dinner." I state.

He snorts at me. Well, it was true. I knew Logan was thirteen years older than me, and probably stayed that way for a long time, but I didn't expect him to show the first signs of Alzheimer's. "Sorry. M' a lil' bit drunk, s'all."

"Not that drunk," I reply. "I can smell it on your breath."

"Yer right," Logan agrees. "Not that drunk. Will be soon, though. But before I do, I wanted to tell you that I got…I got a cabin up in the mountains."

I stare at him, missing the point. "That's cool." I figured that's where Logan's been hiding out for the past four years on his road trip that was going to clear his mind.

He shakes his head. "Yer missin' the point, kid." He tells me. It's true, though, so I nod my head. "I wanna take ya up there tomorrah fer yer birthday. We can stay up for a week, or so, and just…dunno, hang out and catch up. I missed ya, kid. Thought about ya a lot."

I'm touched, I really am. I didn't think that Logan gave a flying shit about me. And I certainly didn't think that he missed me and thought about me a lot. The realization that he had missed me and thought about me was like a bucket of cold water in the face. "I…I missed ya too, Logan. I thought about ya a lot too."

He momentarily ignores his beer and brings me in for another hugs. Two hugs from the Wolverine in one day? You could damn well say that that was unheard of. Then he says something that kind of catches me off guard. "Why didn't you write back to me when I sent ya those letters?" he asks, his face still buried in the crook of my neck.

My eyes widen. I was definitely not expecting him to ask me that question. "I did write to you." I protest.

"You know which one I'm talking about, Marie." I froze when he said my name. Not 'kid', not 'Rogue', Marie. I…I don't even know what to say to that, so I pretend to not hear what he asked me.

"The cabin sounds like a great idea. You wanna go up tomorrow?" I pull back and smile at him. He looks a little bit hurt, but he doesn't continue the previous conversation.

"Sure, if ya want. It's a little bit away from here, though." He tells me, running a hand through his hair.

Thank the fucking Lord for not continuing the conversation. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you—

"Sounds good! And I don't mind the distance, see. It's, ah, nice that you're takin' me to ya cabin." I tell him. My face is burning so badly that I'm surprised I'm not glowing like a damned stoplight. "I'll see ya tomorrah, Logan. G'night."

He watches me as I exit the room. He pulls out a cigar and lights it. "Night…kid." I heave a sigh and turn the corner. Apparently tomorrow I'd be packin' my bags for a week or so to go up to Logan's cabin for my bir thday.

Holy shit. Hot damn.

0o0o0o0o

Review if you like, please :) They make me happy. It is the season of giving, am I right?

Hugs and Smooches,

Courtney {Howlett}

(he's mine girls.)