Rogue buried her face in her pillow and muffled a scream of frustration. Ever since Logan's return to the Academy, her sleepless nights were plagued with dreams that shocked and disturbed her. Not nightmares - oh, no, she would welcome nightmares at this point. These dreams were erotic to the point of torture and centered around one grouchy, muscular, near-feral man in particular.

Rogue gave a heavy sigh and climbed out of bed, moving carefully to avoid disturbing Kitty across the room. Not that it mattered much - Kitty slept like the dead. Jealous, Rogue thought to herself. She pulled on the giant flannel shirt that she used as a robe and padded barefoot toward the kitchen. Maybe some warm milk would help her sleep. Or maybe a cold shower was more in order…!

Rogue turned on the kitchen light and shrieked in horror as a dark shape moved across the room. A deep, gruff voice rumbled, "It's just me, kid." Rogue's heart skipped a beat. Logan.

He sat (no, crouched was the better word, Rogue thought, like a jungle cat ready to pounce,) on a stool at the center island, a longneck loosely grasped in one strong hand. Several other bottles sat on the countertop beside him.

"Cheese and crackers, Logan! You scared the bejeesus outta me!" Rogue exclaimed, clutching her chest. Remembering the skimpy cami and boy shorts she wore to sleep in, she tugged the open flannel tighter across herself and opened the refrigerator door.

"Hey, grab me another one, wouldja kid?" Logan asked from his perch at the island. Rogue nodded her assent and handed him his beer before pouring milk into a mug along with a small spoonful of sugar and sticking it in the microwave. Logan grimaced.

"I don't understand how you can drink that shit," he growled, pulling at his beer. Rogue forcibly turned her gaze away from the motion of his throat as he swallowed. "Likewise," she said, laughing slightly. She had tried beer a few times - mostly at Bobby's urging - but had never developed a taste for it. Logan shrugged and returned to his beer. When the microwave dinged, she took her mug and sat on the stool next to Logan's. Even from the distance of a few feet, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Logan always ran a few degrees hot, he had told her once. His scent washed over her, a mixture of fabric softener, beer, and the heady musk that was Logan himself. Rogue fought to keep her breathing steady and sipped from her mug, casting glances at Logan from the corner of her eye.

She smells like sleep, like sweat, like secret things in the night, mixed with daisies and sunshine and everything that is pure and good in this world. Logan clenches his fist around his beer bottle and fights to get himself under control. He extends his claws just a touch, just enough to barely break the skin, using the pain to focus on something other than how good Marie smells, how much he's missed her, how he longs to wrap her in his arms and never let go, to pin her against the wall and…

(stop it stop it you idiot she's your best friend and she's a baby)

Logan is unaware he is rumbling under his breath until Marie's soft hand lands on his forearm. "Logan? You ok?" she asks softly. With every ounce of strength in his body, Logan retracts his claws and smiles crookedly at Marie. "I'm fine, kid. Just can't sleep. You either, huh?"

Marie frowns and blushes, something that surprises Logan, but he doesn't comment. Her hand is still on his arm, her fingers absently swirling through the thick hair, tracing the lines of muscle and sinew. In a flash Logan is filled with desire and powerless to stop it.

(boogers vomit brussels sprouts Scott naked XAVIER NAKED)

Logan tries to think of anything he can to distract himself from his desire for her. The Wolverine rears its brutal head and screams, bellows in his soul for flesh, for the rut. Logan craves her with every fiber of his being, and yet the crazed lust of the animal inside him is not all he feels. He also aches with a tenderness he's never known, an urge to cherish and protect no matter the cost. He will kill for her, die for her, walk through fire for her - healing abilities notwithstanding. He cannot resist her touch and drops his free hand on top of hers, caressing the delicate skin. It is delicious torture to touch her in such a tender and innocent way - things that Logan has not been for many, many years, if ever. As controversial as the "cure" was, as gut-wrenching as it was to see it weaponized and witness the devastating effect it had on his kind, he is grateful to the scientists who developed it. Because he can touch her like this. His Marie.

Logan was acting weird, and Rogue wasn't sure why. At first she thought he must be angry with her - but, she knew him too well. Yes, he was always angry, but he had different types of angry, and this wasn't angry-angry. It was happy-angry, or at least as happy as Logan ever got. But there was an undercurrent of something else, something that she could sense but not identify. Even touching his arm brought no clarity - ever since the "incident" on Liberty Island, Rogue could usually tell what Logan was feeling, especially if there was physical contact. But this new sensation eluded definition.

Despite her confusion, Rogue secretly reveled in the simple pleasure of skin-on-skin. All the fear, the uncertainty, the second-guessing about the cure - in the end, it was totally worth it. Because of this. Because she could touch her friend

(her love)

on the arm and not have to worry about pulling away in time, about hurting him, about having to distance herself from him in any way. She knew that everyone thought she'd gotten the cure for Bobby, and she was ok with letting them all believe that. But Bobby was the last thing on her mind at the time.

She'd gotten the cure for Logan.

Logan's mind races, trying to think of something, anything, to distract himself from the sweet torture that is Marie's skin. Finally his gaze lands on the gigantic flannel shirt that she's swaddled herself in.

"Hey...ain't that my shirt?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking. Marie blushes and pulls her hand away. Logan is relieved at the loss of contact, but also sorrows for the lack of it.

"Well, you're the one who left it here when you went scampering off across the wilderness," Marie retorts, taking another drink of her now-lukewarm milk. "I say finders-keepers."

Logan stares at her for a beat, then points one long, blunt finger at her face. "I do not. Fucking. Scamper," he growls, keeping his features stern. Marie laughs and rolls her eyes. "Sure, Logan," she sasses. "Whatever you say."

Logan grins to himself. How he loves her laugh. He remembers leaving the shirt hanging in his closet, right before he headed to Alkali Lake the first time. He is tickled beyond measure that she took it and claimed it as her own. The thought of her wearing it - wearing only it - as she sleeps tangled in a mass of bedcovers brings his arousal rushing back. Good lord, it's like being a fucking teenager again - you'd think a hundred-something years on this planet would've taught him some control. But then, he's never felt like this before.

Logan can't stop himself from gently brushing his fingertips over the fabric covering her arm. "Looks better on you, anyway," he murmurs. Marie blushes to the roots of her hair and looks away, then shyly meets his gaze again. "Thanks," she says softly. "I think so too." At a loss for anything to say, Logan pulls his hand away and chugs two long swallows of beer. The silence stretches between them. Silence is not a stranger to their time together - they often just sit, not speaking, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company. But this silence is an uncomfortable one, charged with an inexplicable energy that crackles between them even as they strive to ignore it.

Would it really be so bad?

(she's a kid)

Not really, not anymore. She hasn't been for quite some time and you know it.

(she's a baby)

She's a grown woman now, with a woman's body. Or haven't you noticed?

I'm way too old for her.

Technically, you're way too old for anyone.

(fuck off)

(she's my closest friend)

Yes. Just think how much better it will be because of that.

(what if I hurt her?)

What if she heals you?

Logan has no argument for that

The milk was gone, her mug empty. Logan continued to scowl at his beer and stew in whatever was going on in his head. Rogue stared into the depths of the mug, searching for an answer like a Gypsy reading tea leaves. Her thoughts were a blur. Logan's return to the Academy was not going exactly how she had imagined.

And what exactly did you think would happen? a little voice inside sneered. Did you think that Logan would sweep you into his arms and take you right there in the courtyard? Declare his undying devotion in front of the entire school? You know he thinks of you as just a kid.

The voice became kind. A kid who is his best friend, yes. But still a kid.

Rogue sighed.

Marie sighs, and something about the sound tears at Logan's heart. He doesn't need telepathy to know she has feelings for him, has had for years. A blind man could see it. Hero worship and friendship mixed with a little good old-fashioned lust. But Marie doesn't know everything about him. He's protected her from the worst of it. Even during their deepest conversations, he lets her do most of the talking. She knows he's older than he looks, that he's seen combat and betrayal and has endured more pain than any living creature should. But there is a corner of himself that he's kept locked away. She cannot know him, not truly. If she did, how would she ever love him? Logan could not bear it if she ever turned away from him. Despite his running, his long absences with no explanation, his always keeping her at arm's length, she is the sun that pulls him back into orbit. He could no more leave her behind than grow wings and fly. And yet to embrace her fully would be to tarnish and destroy the beautiful, pure thing that is Marie. Because giving her anything less than his all would be an insult to her, but to sully her with all of his broken parts would cause the end of something rare and wonderful. He cannot live without her. He would die if he diminished her.

Rogue finally got up from her seat and heated another mugful of sweetened milk, more for something to do than out of any real desire for it. She could feel Logan's gaze on her as she moved about the kitchen. What would he do if she kissed him? she wondered. Just walked over and grabbed his face and laid one on him? Probably pat her head and tell her she was a nice kid but far too young, she thought to herself with a snort. And yet she remembered how he reacted when she was with Bobby, how his steely gaze would go from their joined hands to her face and back again before he clenched his jaw and looked away. So he wasn't completely immune. Some deep instinct told Rogue that Logan would never be the one to make the first move. If anything was gonna move them out of the friend zone, then she was gonna have to do it. The thought both terrified and exhilarated her. She returned to the island, but did not sit. Instead she placed her mug on the countertop and crawled into Logan's lap.

For one brief second, Logan's mind seizes up

(sweet flesh warm weight smells like dessert like sunshine like release)

and all he can focus on is the feel of Marie in his arms. They wrap around her of their own volition as she snuggles against his chest and tucks her head beneath his chin. His sudden arousal is a live thing, screaming for her flesh. There's no way she hasn't noticed. The thought shames and excites him.

"Marie," he chokes, then clears his throat. "Marie. What the fuck are you doing?"

She leans back slightly so she can see into his face and smiles. "This looked way more comfortable than that hard ol' stool," she breathes. She gazes at his bare chest, then runs one hand gently across his pecs. Logan's breath snags in his lungs and refuses to come out. His senses are overcome by her warmth, her sweetness, the frantic beating of her heart that belies her calm words. He captures her hand to stop the slow torture of her touch but does not release it. Their eyes lock and they stare at each other for a long moment, breathing each other in. And then Logan closes his eyes and smashes his lips against hers.

(dammit Logan)

(you're going to hell)

(awww fuck it)

Despite all his denials, a part of him knew that this would happen someday. He hauls her against him with all of his strength and kisses her full on the mouth.

Logan forces himself to loosen his grip - he must slow down, he must be gentle. There's no stopping this train wreck - it's too late for that. But he can do everything in his power to ensure that this first encounter - this miracle - is pleasurable for them both.

He knows she is innocent. Bobby never stood a chance. She has always been his. She will always be his. Tonight he will lay his claim and no one else will ever touch her while he breathes.

His large, powerful hands gently grasp her shoulders, then run up and down her arms. He nuzzles the side of her neck, drinking in her scent. He can hear her heart racing, her rapid breathing. He can sense her nervousness. The Wolverine is screaming with lust, desperate to claw and plunge and claim. But Logan wrestles the beast back into its cage. He knows that he must exercise all the control he can possibly find to keep his deep, aching need in check. To keep his hands gentle and his touch slow. He smirks against her skin at the thought, and presses his lips to her shoulder.

Soft, sweet, butterfly kisses along her shoulder and up her neck. Marie sighs and leans against him, her head against his shoulder, tipping back to give him greater access to the tender skin of her throat. One arm supports her back while the other hand gently strokes her waist, her ribcage, back to her waist, along the flat plane of her belly, ribs again - but not too high, not too fast...take it slow.

Rogue was sinking, drowning, dying from the pleasure of kissing Logan. Sparks. Fireworks. Raging infernos. All the years of crushes, of unrequited love, of desperately wanting but never touching, not in any real way, flooded through Rogue as she kissed Logan. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. I'm kissing Logan! She couldn't get close enough. She palmed the rough stubble of his cheeks, stroked his thick hair, ran her hands over his muscular shoulders. She was drunk on his lips, his breath, his skin. Rogue pulled back a little so that she could see his face. His expression was taut with desire, his eyes nearly black with lust and something else, something softer...something that, in a face less brutal, could almost be mistaken for…

love.

As if sensing her thoughts, Logan buried his face against her, shielding himself from view. "We gotta move this, baby," he growled against her ear. "Someone could walk in."

Rogue suddenly realized what a picture they must make - her straddled across his lap. God, if Storm or the Professor had come in here…Rogue stifled a giggle and then squealed as Logan shot to his feet, bringing her with him. She was vaguely aware of their motions as he carried her down the halls. The taste of his mouth and the prickle of his beard against her face was everything she'd ever hoped it would be, and so much more.

Logan is a ball of lust. He is still amazed that he was able to gain his senses enough to move this little party from the very public kitchen to somewhere a little more private. After all these months - years - of denial, there will be no stopping now. He wants to make damn sure they have plenty of time, with no risk of being disturbed.

Logan is vaguely aware of a constant growling under his breath - almost a purr. God, but he loves this kid, this woman, this strong gentle soul.

Logan wrestles his bedroom door open and kicks it closed. He crosses the room in three strides and lays Marie down on the bed, then gently covers her body with his own. She pulls back to stare into his face and he nearly looks away, afraid to show her the truth writ so clearly upon his gruff features. It's one of the bravest things he's ever done, to let his heart shine through his eyes for her to see. She smiles softly, stroking his cheeks, then burrows her face into his neck, cuddling close as she wraps her arms tightly around him. "I love you," she whispers, and he can feel what it costs her to say it aloud. Logan swallows hard, and as his lips brush the shell of her ear he murmurs the words he never thought he'd hear himself say:

"I love you, Marie. I love you so goddamn much."

Wait, what??

Rogue couldn't believe her ears. Did Logan - The Wolverine, the most fearsome warrior the world had ever seen - just say what she thought he said? Did Logan really just say he loved her? She burrowed deeper into his neck and sighed, suddenly overcome with shyness. She felt the vibration of his low chuckle rumble through her. "Look at me. Baby...look at me."

Rogue peeked at his face. The tenderness and love there made her chest tight and her eyes sting. How many times had she imagined this moment? How many times had she lain awake at night hoping, praying, that he would look at her like this someday? He gently stroked her face. "My Marie," he whispered. Rogue's heart leapt. He was the only one who called her Marie. The sound of her name in such a tender voice - like a prayer - threatened to undo her. Fiercely she tugged his head down and pressed her lips to his once more.

Logan runs his hands over her skin, gently stroking, enjoying the softness and the warm weight of her pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her tight to him, suddenly overcome with emotion. "I love you, I love you," he murmurs over and over.

Rogue had no idea how long they snuggled like that, Logan gently rubbing her back and murmuring endearments she didn't entirely hear but felt with the whole of her being. A deep happiness settled into her, and she tucked her head beneath his chin, wrapping her arm around his broad chest. Suddenly exhausted, she burrowed even closer and closed her eyes. Before she knew it, she was sound asleep.

"Marie."

"Marie."

"Hey...Marie!"

Logan gently shakes Marie's shoulder. No response. He sits up a little, so he can see her face. A huff of surprised laughter escapes him. She's asleep. She's fucking asleep. After the hottest makeout session of his remembered lifetime and a declaration of love he never even planned to make, the little minx fell asleep on him. Literally.

Logan sighs, shifting uncomfortably. He wonders if he should move her to her own room, then vetoes that idea almost immediately. There's no way she's sleeping anywhere but his bed tonight.

He carefully eases out from under her, then tucks her in gently, admiring the way her two-tone hair spreads across his pillow. One speedy cold shower later, he crawls in beside her, suddenly exhausted. Pulling her close, he presses a kiss to her temple and falls into the first peaceful sleep he's had since he can remember.

Something was tickling Rogue's nose. Sleepily she brushed it away, then snuggled deeper into the covers. Warm, so warm and soft...the bed smelled like Logan, like heaven. Strong arms wrapped around her...lips against her ear, her neck. Logan's voice murmuring her name. Rogue's eyes shot open. Clutching the sheet to her chest, she rolled over and found herself staring into the most beautiful hazel eyes in the world. Logan. Omigod I'm in Logan's bed. Rogue fought the temptation to dive beneath the covers and hide. Logan's sleepy smile and rusty chuckle were like Christmas morning. "Hey, kid," he murmured, before bending his head and gently kissing her lips. Memories from the night before came flooding back and Rogue thought she might die from happiness. She was in Logan's bed. She was kissing him. And last night he said he loved her.

Holy fucking shit was all Rogue could think later on as her heart gradually slowed and her breathing returned to normal. Rogue had never dreamed that such pure happiness even existed. A huge sigh escaped her and she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"Am I crushin' you?" Logan's deep voice rumbled as he pulled her against his chest. Rogue shook her head and laughed softly. "Nope, I'm perfectly perfect," she murmured, staring into his beautiful amber eyes. The happy light shining from within him nearly hurt her with its intensity. Kissing him lightly on the mouth, she nuzzled his chest and closed her eyes, basking in his warmth and his love. "Feel free to wake me up like that anytime."

AN: If anyone is interested, there is an unsanitized version of this story published on AO3. Same title, pen name Lyrixxx.