Disclaimer: I am mine. My cat is mine. Logan is not.
So there I am, and isn't this how it always happens,
anyway?
So there I am, sitting innocently at my computer,
scrolling through the latest of angsty fanfics and wondering how anyone
could imagine Logan with Scott, when a shadow falls across my keyboard. I look around, yawning, expecting to see a
certain hellacious cat perched on the dresser behind me.
Instead, I get an eyeful of wow.
My heart starts going all pitty-pat, and whose wouldn't,
when Logan himself is standing right behind you in all his hairy, leather-clad
glory?
My mind races, trying to splice together something to say
that will be devastatingly witty, yet piercingly poignant.
"Uh…"
Good start.
Okay, Jane, back to square one. Basic preamble to good old American
conversation! Now what is it?
"Hi?" Logan
suggests.
"Ahh. Hi. Yes, thanks, that's it." I mentally smack myself in the forehead, and
Logan grins his amusement.
Because this is my fanfic, Logan chooses to ignore my
sudden case of verbal constipation and sits down on my bed. ALL SYSTEMS RED ALERT! my brain
screams. VERY HAIRY AND DESIRABLE
MAN ON BED! VERY HAIRY AND DESIRABLE
MAN ON BED!
Which, of course, does nothing for my eloquence. I have some vague notion that this is my
fanfic, by God, I don't have to seize up when Logan talks to me…but
somehow, my turning into the Red-Light Seductress doesn't seem plausible,
especially considering my current attire (holey T-shirt and very old, very
nasty jeans).
As soon as I shut my brain up (not a difficult task, at
this hour), I commence drawing Logan into an enticing conversation, which
begins, intelligently enough, with:
"So what brings you here?"
Wow. Somehow, in
those five little words, I've managed to invoke all the intrigue and mystique
(pardon the pun) of a truck-stop waitress.
Verrrry compelling.
But Logan just smiles at me and runs a hand through his
hair. Amazingly enough, the two little
pointy parts are undisturbed. I wonder
idly if they really are ears.
Two sets of ears? I think to myself.
Ears made of hair? Can hair pick
up sound waves? What if—
"Jane, darlin'," Logan says, and of course I immediately
stop thinking about ears. "You know I'm
not much of a talker—"
Ooh, and wouldn't I like to find out how much of a talker
you aren't? I think.
"—but I was thinkin' the other day, you just beginning
your fanfic career and all, and wouldn't you like some kind of welcome, see—"
I'm really beginning to like the sound of this.
"—and even though you can't write yourself into every
story, because all the 'shippers would just be fuckin' pissed—"
Suddenly he's grinning in a manner that can only be
described as feral.
"—and Jane, you know I only mean it when I call you
darlin'."
Now this is what I call a warm welcome.
