It was a sunny Saturday morning, quiet and peaceful. All students were sent home for Thanksgiving break, now, all that was left were the X-Men and I.
I had just gotten out the shower so I was currently putting on my favorite cherry blossom scented lotion. Afterwards, I got dressed in a black short sleeve crop top, brown leather short shorts with a thick black leather belt, and my favorite combat boots--I didn't bother tying them. Throwing my jet black curls into a long ponytail, I walked out my room, closing the door behind me, and headed towards the kitchen.
According to my phone it was only 6:20 in the morning, I had awhile before anyone else was going to wake up on a Saturday. Once I had made it to the kitchen I had begun to make myself and the others some homemade pancakes. "You're not gonna cook, are ya?" I heard a voice ask as I was getting out the bowls and pan. I didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.
"An' if I was...?" I could practically feel his smirk grow. "Well, if it were just for yourself we would have to fight...but if it were for all of us...I guess I could help." I blinked and quickly whipped around. He looked just as I had pictured him: leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, smirk across his inhumanly handsome face; wearing a black shirt, brown belt, blue jeans, and black ankle work boots.
"You...cook...?" I ask him slowly. He quirks an eyebrow as he stands up straight. "Yeah, I cook. Is it so hard to believe that I cook?" He asks, foreigning hurt. I laugh. "I suppose not, a man does need to cook for himself when he lives alone," I agree. "But how well can you cook?"
He shrugs. "It's all based on what I'mma be cookin'... So, what are we cooking?" I smile. "Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and biscuits. So...can you help me?" His lips twitch upwards slightly. "Of course, anything to help me get to eatin' food sooner." I laugh again. "Alright, that's a better excuse than nothin'." Logan genuinely laughs and smiles widely at me.
"Alright, let's get to work."
