Oh, it's natural.
graciously beta-read by Ironraven
spoiler: Storm's secondary mutation is to have fabulous hair, all the time.
Breakfast times in the mansion were always chaotic. No matter how many times the adults would remind them to get up early to avoid crowding within the kitchen, it would always fall upon deaf ears. It wasn't enough that housing mutant teenagers basically ensured daily disagreements - that they started as early as seven in the morning (an ungodly hour, by teenagers' standards, mutant or not) was a bit of a frustration for everyone involved..
Because of this, the Professor insisted that the adults take shifts. Depending on the day of the week, one of the senior instructors had to be up with the children to supervise breakfast until they all rushed off to another day of high school. It worked, for the most part. Everyone respected the Prof far too much to even think about picking a fight with him in the same room; upsetting Miss Munroe with unnecessary violence in the morning was like asking for death. Even starting something when Beast was around was stupid - he came up with the most creatively horrifying punishments the kids had ever seen.
The mornings with Logan on breakfast duty were easily the worst. He'd be calmly sitting at the table by the window with the morning paper before any of the students came in. That fact alone was enough to terrify them out of starting anything violent.
Still, it wasn't enough to keep them from gossiping.
Logan had long since mastered the art of tuning the incessant breakfast chatter out, but every now and then he'd pick up some interesting bits and pieces of conversation.
Like today, for example; the girls were having a rather passionate discussion.
Amara was pouting. "It's gotta be something else, Jean! I've been trying your shampoo for a month, and my hair is nowhere near as thick and beautiful as yours."
An embarassed chuckle: "Well, I... I don't really know- I mean, I don't really do anything special... I know some magazines recommend shampooing every other day, but keeping a daily conditioning regimen; maybe you could try that?"
"I do that!" It was Kitty, this time. "I've been doing that since I was like, thirteen!"
"Well, Storm's been giving me haircare tips since I first moved here."
Tabitha entered the kitchen at that point, passing the table in time to hear Jean's latest comment. She grabbed a bagel from Amara's plate. "Oh, well, there you have it, then."
Tabitha rolled her eyes when the rest of the girls gave her curious looks. "Don't look at me like that! I mean, come on! Other than Ms. Yes, That's my Natural Color, who else has perfect hair? Storm!"
"You know, I bet it's some sorta... secondary mutation or something, having gorgeous hair." Jubilee said around a mouthful of Cheerios, pointing her spoon at Jean. "I mean, come on. I don't think I've ever even seen hair as amazing as the both of yours in real life, outside of hair care commercials. There's gotta be some secret!"
Even the reclusive Rogue had to add her two cents, fingering the white fringe hanging in her eyes. "Ya can say that again. White hair as glossy as Storm's? Sometimes I gotta wonder if it's natural..."
Logan turned the page of his paper idly, chuckling gruff and deep and wicked. He was speaking before he realized he even had anything to say: "Oh, believe me. It's natural." And it goes all the way down, if you know what I mean...
The girls' table went dead silent. The boys blinked; they hadn't really heard a word from the girls' conversation, but they took the sudden absence of girlish chatter as a cue to get the hell out of dodge while they could. Alarmingly quickly, they vacated the room in cannonballs and clouds of sulphurous smoke, all in record time. And just like that, Wolverine found himself alone in a kitchen full of teenage girls.
Not that the silence lasted very long. Jean, who'd sensed the smug, self-satisfied thoughts that Logan was shamelessly, unintentionally projecting, shot up in her seat and looked at him disbelievingly.
"Logan!"
It took a moment, but the girls caught on fairly quickly, one after another.
"Mister Logan!"
"Oh, my God."
"Ah so didn't need to know that..."
"Oooh, I can't believe you and Miss Munroe would...!"
"... We would what, exactly?"
The girls turned as one to the doorway. Ororo stood there, her presence effortlessly filling the room as usual. She'd arched one eyebrow at the students, before turning to Logan who had hands over his ears.
"Storm!" Kitty fumbled for an explanation, "We- we were just..."
Ororo glanced at the clock above the stove. "Are you not running late for class?"
There was a beat, before the girls abruptly came to their senses. Bowls and dishes were levitated into the sink while bags were grabbed and last minute sweeps of lip gloss were applied.
Jean was the last to leave, pausing at the door to the garage to give Storm a suspicious look.
We're talking about this later! was her parting, mental nudge of accusation to the older woman before she finally rushed to follow her friends; it was her turn to drive them to Bayville High.
With the kitchen finally emptied out, Ororo strode over to the counter to load various abandoned dishes and cutlery into the dishwasher, the picture of calm and easy grace. Logan knew better.
The students had a term for whenever she got like this; they called it the calm before the storm.
"You know," she finally began, just when he was starting to get a little concerned by her silence, "For years I'd kept it a closely guarded secret."
Logan blinked, a little lost. "Keep what a secret?"
Her lips twisted into something between a smirk and a stern frown. "Whether or not the carpet matched the curtains, of course."
as punishment, Storm didn't let him into her room later that night.