Most of the team had long gone to bed, only those true night owls chose to stay up late, feed the firepit, and enjoy another drink. There weren't many nights where they could just relax and be certain they wouldn't be called upon for help, so this evening was far past due. Jean was lounging on the outdoor couch, a light blanket covering her feet.

"So, there's always been something with you and him, right?" Bobby spoke in a hushed tone as he filled Jean's wine glass.

She looked over at Logan, lounging in a chair mere feet away. Hank and Logan were talking about beer, or something else that the Canadian berserker and the blue doctor had become friends over. One brains, one brawn...all oddest of pairings as friends go.

"It's not really a secret, Bobby."

"Why did nothing ever come of it," Bobby pressed.

"I dont know, timing?"

"Well, you've both been single for awhile...so what's stopping you?"

Good question, Jean thought as she sipped from the large (and very full glass).

"I don't know," she shook her head.

"Talkin' about The Notebook, girls," Logan smirked.

"Talkin' about you," Bobby snorted.

"Oh yeah? Jealous you still can't grow hair on your chest?"

"Bobby..." Jean warned, he had had just as much wine as her, and he was a known lightweight.

"Talkin' about why you and Jean aren't hooking up."

"There's the cue Robert has had enough for tonight," Hank chuckled, prodding Bobby to head for his room. "Don't you rememeber what happened last time you joked around with Logan...you were bald the next morning!"

Jean watched Hank escort the wobbly prankster to his room, laughing to try and divert Bobby's choice of subject. Logan sat down at her feet, reaching under the blanket.

"Your feet are freezing, woman!"

"I can't help it," she kicked him playfully.

Jean felt her whole body go warm, more than just from his hand lingering on her foot. They hadn't been alone in a long while, and now...they were alone, in the dark, with a fire still crackling in the pit, and bellies full of alcohol.

"So..."

"It's quiet."

"Means Bobby finally passed out," he chuckled.

Jean took a drink of wine, trying not to laugh as his thumb ran along the sensitive arch of her foot.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Ticklish?"

"No, I am not."

Logan reached under the blanket, Jean began to scoot back on the couch to get away, but with his reflexes and strength she found herself pulled half on top of his lap.

"So, why haven't we hooked up?"

"We aren't teenagers, Logan."

"I'm just using Bobby's words."

"Well, I could ask you the same thing. Why haven't we?"

"Don't know," Logan shrugged, his hand skimming over her thigh.

"I don't know either."

"Not attracted anymore?"

"No, that's not it."

"Why are you so rigid," he asked, stroking his hand down her spine.

"I'm uncomfortable..." she tried to supress a shudder.

"I'm not gonna bite...at least not enough to draw blood," he grinned.

Jean rolled her eyes, such a typical Logan response. "It's the way I'm sitting, Logan."

He grunted, and positioned himself so he was turned more towards her, her legs now draped over his thighs.

"Well, what should we do about it?"

"I think...we should..." Jean inched her face closer to Logan's,

"There you two are, I-wow, what did I miss," Storm halted at the patio door upon discovering Jean and Logan looking very cozy.

Jean slipped out of Logan's arms, hearing a growl of displeasure from Logan.

"Mutant kid disappeared in Ireland, and Siryn requested you two personally. Leave in in fifteen minutes."