I'm deeply sorry everyone. I was shooting for something short and romantic, since it's Christmas and all, the season where everyone gets warm and fuzzy and all. Well, did you guys ever start writing a story that was safely mapped out just to have one of the characters get up after a paragraph or two to completely change things up? No?
Wwll, didn't happen to me, at all. Nuh-uh.
I really tried to keep the funny out. But it seems I can't do that completely. Oh well.
This is an entry for the I Heart Rogan community's Christmas challenge cooked up by JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo and Soon2Bme and we have to include the words santa suit, a bell, a cocktail shaker, Candy Canes. Ebenezer Scrooge and something made out of silk. For your convenience thay will be in bold print.
And thanks you two. Your challenge turned the Christmas oneshot I had already planned... into something completely different. You cows you. :P
So. This contains some adult actions so be warned. I can't even remember if there is swearing. I wrote it, so probably a few words here and there. Please be mature or not read on. It's Christmas so I'll just not look^^
Please don't forget to vote if you survive this. It's one of those oneshots that are a little longer ;)
Everyone is out frolicking in the snow, everyone but one girl who stares out her window feeling slightly sorry for herself, but she has brought it upon her. Snowball fights are silly, snow angels do suck and who the hell wants to go to the damn Christmas Ball anyway.
Oh, sorry.
Snowflake Ball.
I snort and turn away from the window, deciding to go down to the kitchen, raid the fridge and invade the common room that is already filled with presents because most of the adults don't feel like stumbling in late at night after returning from the ball after a few too many glasses of eggnogg and accidentally step on a few gifts like DVDs or a pretty valuable porcelain cup with their huge furry blue feet.
Hank McCoy has taught everyone a lesson last year.
So to the kitchen I go, making a sandwich and purposefully ignoring the sliced turkey breast-I know I will hate Turkey by tomorrow evening after the very cozy ugly sweater fest, I haven't fully recovered from Thanksgiving yet. There are just so many days of leftovers a girl can handle, everything that exceeds a week is too much and most likely not healthy either. I actually always have enough after the first helping of too dry turkey. You'd think that in a humongous mansion like this that can afford to support a team of mutant warriors and supply technical gadgets that are what little geeks dream of... well, you'd think they could afford a cook.
I will never forget my first Christmas at the mansion. Or Jean's turkey. Crispy black on the outside, pink and half frozen on the inside. To her defense I have to add she was busy with Scott on the kitchen counter. And on the floor. And against the fridge. Twice.
Nobody was able to get anything to drink that day. The whole mansion was full of disturbed and thirsty people drinking from their bathroom faucets. Fortunately we are always just a hand full of students over the holidays, most do have a family they can go home to. Others, like me, consider this their family. Dysfunctional and full of freaks, yes, but I prefer tipsy Hank with his blue fur reciting old poems over all of my aunts, uncles and cousins put together.
And there's always Logan.
Of course he hasn't been around for Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, Easter, Labor Day or the Fourth of July ever since we met. Or any Canadian holiday for that matter. Not even Cinco de Mayo. He always seems to pick up a lead in time. Or has some important mission he has to face alone and that only allows him to return a few days after the festivities. If the occasion requires gifting, he will toss something my way as soon as he took a shower and happens to walk by my room. I have long ago given up hopes. Just because I'm the only one that ever gets any presents from him along with the "Got something for you kid" and the brief flicker of guilt on his face. And just because he casually happens to walk by my room a few times a day, even though it is not on his way to the kitchen or any other place he would want to go to. He's just catching up on that promise of his, since he isn't around most of the time he just does three times as much when he's around. After all I could seriously harm myself. Stab myself while doing my nails.
Excuse my mood, it's what Christmas does to me.
Though this year, it is a little different.
Though he is grouchier than Ebenezer Scrooge having to pay his bills, he stuck around. Who? Don't be dense.
Logan.
Just last night I saw him in the kitchen, grumbling at the flickering lights in the windows. I have to admit, those things should come with a seizure warning and even I find them annoying. And deep down inside I love Christmas. Which is why I always volunteer do do things with the younger students, like decorating and crafts and baking cookies.
This year the greatest fun was getting Logan to try our colorful creations. And even though he was pulling faces he made an effort-he's their hero since that day. And I know how much he hates sweet stuff. Bet he had to wash that down with two sixpacks. At least he left the building right after forcing down the last one, a bright green Christmas tree, decorated with basically everything we had on hand. Copped nuts, chocolate sprinkles, colorful sprinkles, edible glitter... the works. After that he grabbed his leather jacket, hopped on his bike and off he went.
I honestly think him being here is worse than him being off somewhere.
At least for my mood it is.
My roast beef sandwich is staring at me, I swear. Or better, staring back at me. I seem to have zoned out for ten minutes or so. So, where to now? The others have been pouring in through the doors for a while now, everybody is getting ready for the big ball. I have volunteered to stay behind and look after the five kids that won't go, not a very daunting task, especially since they are all very well behaved kids-three of them are sick and currently located in the med lab, that makes things even easier for me. But since I don't seem to be responsible enough Logan has insisted on staying behind, too.
Well, first of all he wants to avoid having to wear formal attire at any cost. Then there's the chaperoning thing he doesn't seem too keen on. And the fact that the whole night there will be a band playing dance music and all alcoholic beverages will be of the sweet Christmas-y kind.
And there is the part where we will veg out on the couch and watch anything that's on TV and not sappy, I guess a very small, not feral part of him enjoys doing things like that. With me.
This girl is hopeless with all her dreaming.
Off to the common room I go, plate with sandwich in one hand, bottle of coke in the other. I could have brought a bottle opener but silly old me forgot. Oh well, if all else fails I can use the edge of that huge old coffee table. Not that I have tried it before.
You barely see the scratches from the bottle cap on that dark wood.
Right in the doorway to the room dangles something green, with a red ribbon around it. Oh if I get my hands on Jubilee I will put them around her neck and... oof!
"I'm sorry dear. I was just on my way out and I didn't see you there."
Great. Hank and I are standing under a mistletoe. I scowl at that damn plant, even though it didn't do anything to me. Images of my hands tightening a yellow scarf flash before my inner eye.
"Oh. It seems someone wants us to honor a particular Christmas tradition."
Hank looks at the mistletoe as if it was the most peculiar thing on the planet. From inside the common room I hear a low growl. Hank tilts his head and grins, that cheeky little...
"Well, who am I to question traditions. It would be an honor."
The growl gains volume, by now it has about the same as a landing airplane. Hank's grin widens as he bends down-to kiss me on the cheek and walk away. I swear there is a skip to his step and he just barely holds himself back or he would sing and dance down the hall. Talk about Christmas cheer.
In the common room I head straight for my favorite couch, a dark brown chesterfield that isn't as uncomfortable and stiff as it looks. I do notice Logan who is seated on the other end of my couch and has his feet up on the coffee table, my favorite bottle opener. I also notice that he is pissed off, no need to ask myself why. He gets that way sometimes. And Hank, one of his least favorite residents here, kissing me sure doesn't help his usual foul mood.
He mumbles something, but continues to stare at the screen. The picture changes every few seconds as he is zapping through all channels we can get here. Gotta love cable and it's vast variety of channels, yet there never seems to be anything interesting on.
The Grinch, the cartoon version, appears on screen and I giggle. Logan is just like that Grinch, just slightly less hairy. And well, not so green. He is so grumpy and tells everyone how stupid Christmas is, whether they want to hear it or not, but he still tried those cookies. And got into snowball fights with the kids because it's "good target practice". I'm sure he even likes the decorations I picked. He just doesn't want to admit it.
We stick with the Grinch and still no word from either of us. He still doesn't talk much, but when he says something I listen. Because it's usually important. At least to me. Hell, he can cough and I store that sound away just to replay it in my head later. And to figure out if there is any meaning behind it.
Sad, but it's one of the activities that lighten up my life.
With a huff I hold my coke bottle to the table and try to hit the cap with my flat hand. I haven't mastered that skill yet, so it usually takes about ten tries to get it open-always better than walking back to the kitchen and getting an opener, even if my right hand doesn't look quite the same after.
Logan grumbles and snatches the bottle from my hand. The other is already throbbing.
"Do you want to break your hand in the dumbest way possible?"
With a snikt he extracts his claws and uses them on my poor bottle. He can do it with his teeth, too. I've seen him do it with beer bottles, quite impressive. The thought of his mouth on my bottle makes me shiver. Please don't let him notice that.
And, sorry coffee table, but as of now I have a new favorite bottle opener.
Storm walks in with a box of... yet some more decorations. With an apologetic smile she puts them down on the floor next to me and points towards the huge tree in the far corner of the room by the fireplace.
"Would you mind?"
"Nah, it's alright. It's not like I have anything interesting to do anyway."
"You know, now that Logan is here you could come with us..."
I smile the brightest smile I can come up with and to be honest, it is much more genuine than it would have been if he hadn't been here.
"It's okay, I like staying here and having the place almost to myself for once."
She gives me that knowing look I hate so much. Oh yeah, poor Rogue and her crush, blah blah blah.
I note the beautiful gown she is wearing, it is white with a very slight hint of blue in places and it glitters. Snowflakes come to mind, how perfectly appropriate for tonight. And she flutters out of the room, greeting Hank in the hall, who dons a tux, of course. Bobby pokes his head in, he is wearing an elf costume and I almost pee my pants I laugh so hard.
The ball is held in town and has been used by the X-Men to mingle with the humans for years now. They make a good impression and everyone is so darn cheery and of course there is some charity too. So every year some poor chaps dress up as Santa and his elves and hand out presents to the less fortunate children.
Bobby does look like a real elf in his suit.
I am still laughing after they left, which makes this a total of ten minutes. My whole body hurts and tears run down my face. Logan looks at me with that lopsided grin of his and shakes his head.
"Those geeks know how to party."
I had just calmed down a little, that dry remark of his sets me off again. I must look charming with my ruffled hair and cherry red face.
"A few days ago they asked me to play Santa. Even brought the Santa suit along to my room."
I hear a mix of anger and amusement in his voice. Not that it matters, I am about to choke on my own spit. The image of Logan in a santa suit, without beard but with cigar in his mouth, looking extremely angry and ignoring the kid shaking with fear sitting on his knees... that's one for my mental scrapbook. A nice change to all the romantic scenes I keep there.
He gives me one of those looks of him I can't decipher, but he sort of smiles, so I guess it's okay. Most people would have dragged me to the hospital wing to get someone to check my brain after the show I put on the last, let's say twenty minutes. I've been grumpy enough lately, it was good to just let go and laugh my ass off.
With a grin I get up and grab the box of decorations, I should go and get a ladder because they should go somewhere near the top, the bottom has been loaded by the younger ones and by loaded I mean that some branches are touching the ground they are that full of decorations. For a moment I look up at the tree that is about twice my size.
"Need help?"
He doesn't even wait for my answer, he was standing right behind me anyway. Without comment he grabs my hips and lifts me up until I sit on his shoulders, as if I weighed nothing. Now if that isn't a confidence boost I don't know what is. And I feel him move under me, that is something I could get used to. I like being that close to him, it doesn't happen often. He never had any problems with touching me when my skin was deadly, after the cure everyone kept touching me and he somehow withdrew himself.
We spend some time around the tree, the only words we speak are meant to coordinate, and I enjoy ever second of it. It is such an ordinary situation, a man and a woman decorating a tree on Christmas Eve, but it is so much more complicated. He is the single most important person in my life and he is... well, complicated, to put it lightly. Grumpy, unable-or unwilling-to maintain any form of relationship with anyone, part of him is a ferocious animal and he has no problem with killing people. Does that stop me from loving him with all my heart?
Au contraire.
I sing along to the tune, I have always loved the song from The Grinch.
You're a foul one, Mister Grinch,
You're a nasty wasty skunk,
Your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk, Mister Grinch,
The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote,
"Stink, stank, stunk"!
I can't believe that movie is over already, the credits are rolling along to the song. Logan's shoulders are moving and for a moment I don't understand what's going on, until I have an epiphany.
"Are you laughing at me Logan?"
He can't see it but I put my hands on my hips anyway. His arms reach up and he puts me down with a speed that makes me squeal. Just a little. There is another look on his face I can't decipher. It's very uncharacteristic. If he'd been anyone else I'd interpret it as some form of happiness. And we all know that to him happy equals sappy, and he doesn't do that.
"Out of all Christmas movies out there this is your favorite?"
"I love Dr. Seuss! And I love the Grinch. He's such a grumpy little loner and in the end he figures out that it doesn't hurt him to be around the other Whos and share some love and..."
Oh.
He is quite the Grinch, isn't he.
There's another one of those looks and he stalks back to the couch. I put the box down to push it behind the tree with one foot when I see something in there. I bend down to inspect the decoration I forgot. Yum.
This time I take up most of the space on the couch, putting up my feet and unwrapping a red and white striped candy cane. I put it in my mouth and suck on it with delight, I loved those as a kid, I always snatched them from the tree when nobody was looking and brought them to my room. They're fun until they get pointy and you stab the roof of your mouth with them.
A sharp intake of breath next to me takes me back to the present. I notice Logan staring at me with a strange expression on is face. I look down on the candy cane sticking in my mouth. Back to the pained expression. Back to the cane.
Oh.
I can't believe I am able to provoke such thoughts. I mean, it's Logan. I thought the only thing that could turn him on are a redhead in a catsuit or a blond taking her clothes off. Not a KID eating a candy cane. Well, sucking on it. Licking it. Oh yeah, he seems to like that. His eyes darken and a low growl rumbles in his chest.
Quick, I need something else because I just poked my tongue with that damn thing. Oh, there are some popsicles in the freezer in the kitchen.
"Need anything from the kitchen?"
Since when is my voice so... husky? And why can't it be when I want it to be? I'm already at the door when I notice him behind me.
"I'll help you."
We're standing in the doorway, right under the mistletoe. I look up, and back down at him. He smirks, but his eyes are still dark. There's a hand at the small of my back right where there's a bit of skin showing between my skirt and my shirt. I've never been so glad to have taken the cure.
"Shouldn't we...honor a particular Christmas tradition?"
I love how he mocks Hank. I love when he mocks people. I will be nothing more than a puddle once I get over the fact that he is so damn close to me. Actually, he is coming closer. His lips touch mine and my knees start to wobble. Fortunately his arm around me keeps me from falling over backwards. It takes a few seconds before I realize what happens and a little longer before I respond to the kiss. He waits patiently for me to come around and as soon as I part my lips his tongue darts forward and fireworks go off in my stomach. It is only the second real kiss in my life-the first being the one that triggered my mutation and put the guy in a coma. Those few seconds with Bobby didn't count, due to my powers those were a few coy short ones. And none of them could compare to this.
As he lets go of me after what seems like at least half an eternity I find myself panting, I don't even dare to look up at him. His hand slips under my chin and lifts it up. Again he waits patiently as my downcast eyes slowly wander up to his face. To my surprise I see that he is out of breath too. His eyes are black now.
"You were going to the kitchen?"
One eyebrow shoots up and every word sends shivers down my spine. His lips are inches away from my ear, I can feel his breath on the sensitive skin of my neck. I imagine his lips grazing the skin, his teeth nibbling. With that image in mind I forget about popsicles and anything else I wanted, shake my head and head back to the couch. As I walk by the tree his hand sneaks around my waist and spins me around. His lips crash on mine and this time I really lose balance. Instead of steadying me and holding me up he follows me to the floor. I frantically push away presents from underneath me, partially crushing them or tearing the wrapping paper, one revealing a cocktail shaker.
There is no time for me to wonder who would give that as a present. Or who will receive it. Because Logan's hands are everywhere, I can feel their warmth through my clothes and my mind starts to lose interest in anything but one thought: I want to feel his skin on mine. Everywhere.
My desire gives me courage and I tug at his flannel shirt until it slips out of his jeans along with his undershirt and my fingers slip under the fabric, looking for skin. They make contact, I feel his muscles under the soft curls of hair and the soft groan that escapes him encourages me to let my fingers slide across his stomach, just where the jeans lies snug against his skin. Usually I love those jeans, right now they're nothing but in my way.
Logan motions for me to sit up, his hands are already under my shirt to take it off. Coming up my head hits one of the branches of the tree and a tiny bell rings before falling off and landing right next to Logan's right hand on the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.
We tear at each others clothes and I am very glad that I am wearing the new dark red silk underwear Jubilee made me buy last week. Not that I do care right now, but I know I will tomorrow. I'd die of embarrassment if he had seen me in my faded girl boxers with polka dots. Or worse, the Snoopy bra.
As the last fabric barriers are removed and he slides on top of me I know that I will sit in this room tomorrow morning and watch people unwrap their presents that are slightly crushed and partially unwrapped with a deep red face. But this, this is absolutely worth the embarrassment.
Christmas has never been this great and I actually like that stupid ball.
Merry Christmas :D Now REVIEW and VOTE :P