Hopes and Dreams
By: Lily Handle
Author's Note: It's almost my beta's b-day, actually her birthday isn't until July, but I asked her what she wanted, she asked me to write some senseless fluff for Hope and Logan. So, I started writing some fluff and couldn't stop until I finished it. I know it's early, but for you my dearest beta, some senseless Hope/Logan fluff.
Dr. Hope Chandler dabbed a bit of perfume on her neck, while frowning at her reflection. Everyone in the Institute had caught the flu, an epidemic she had tried to prevent with flu shots, an increase in vitamin C and making sure that everyone got dry after the snowball fights that seemed to break out almost everyday after school. Of course nothing had stopped the spread of the pathogen once it had broken loose in the Institute's halls. It had started with Jean, then it spread to Kitty, who spread it to Rouge and from there it just got out of hand. Even Ororo, Hank and Charles had fallen victim to it, which Hope had not been expecting since they had avoided the Infirmary like Hope had been treating the plague and not the simple flu. The only people who had managed to avoid catching it were Logan, Bobby, and herself. Bobby had simply changed to his ice form at the first signs of symptoms and killed the virus with extreme cold. Logan hadn't even so much as sniffled, or stuffed up, which was not surprising, as he never got sick. Hope had thought she would definitely catch it, she worked all day with the bed ridden, was sneezed on, coughed at, and generally came in contact with the virus every hour of the day. Every night for the past two weeks she had been downing vitamin after vitamin, hoping to stave off the inevitable, and miraculously she had avoided getting the flu. One problem, tonight she had a very big, very important dinner at the Smithsonian Institute to attend and her regular escort, Hank was sick. It left Hope with two choices, bring Bobby or bring Logan. You have to admit though, her conscious scolded, you like the idea of bringing Logan.
"Of course I like the idea," Hope mumbled to herself, putting on her pearl earrings, "It's a better option than bringing a teenager." Or that's the reason she kept trying to get herself to believe. She didn't want to admit that she had been secretly hoping that something would happen to Hank and Logan would have to step in for him. It made her feel terribly guilty when she thought about Hank lying in his bed with a large bowl of soup and a good book. She had thought about not going with an escort at all, almost too embarrassed to ask Logan, but she always attended any event she was going to speak at with someone, usually Hank. Her escort was her second pair of eyes, just incase someone tried to snatch her up. Hope had found the whole idea ridiculous at first, she was just going to speak in front of a group of scientist and doctors, and it wasn't like she was speaking to a bunch of anti-mutant militants. Hope sighed as she adjusted the pearl choker around her neck. There wasn't much she could do about the situation though, before she had even gotten a chance to work up the courage to ask Logan to escort her, Charles had ordered it. The look of astonished horror on Logan's face had given Hope answer enough. He didn't want to escort her to some fancy brain party, and she had accepted that.
"Yeah right," Hope said, checking her reflection again. She'd tamed her hair in a simple, but elegant bun, holding it in place with two pearl inlaid sticks. Her mother had given her those, along with the earrings, a bracelet she had yet to put on and the choker. Pearls were her mother's favorite, and they were Hope's too. You could really never go wrong with a good string of pearls, or a black evening gown, her mother had told her once, and they were words she lived by. With all the talks she did pertaining to her research she found she needed to dress up more and more often, fly to farther and farther places, and all the while she had never gone wrong with a black dress and pearls. Tonight she had chosen a floor length, black satin evening gown with a high collar, but open back. It was something her sister had given her, along with the matching shawl and heels, for some birthday or Christmas a year or so back. Hope had given her a fine hand made Italian suit that year if she remembered correctly. Her sister and Hope shared a passion for dressing up, it was Hope's guilty pleasure, she just loved to shop. Tonight though, her normal confidence she felt when all dressed up was gone, replaced by a mass of butterflies. She didn't want to admit it, but it was Logan's fault. She had sometimes noticed that Logan's eyes would follow her when she was dressed up for these events and she was on her way to the hanger to leave. She also noticed that most of the boys watched her. Kurt had whistled the first time she had one of the events, and Hope had laughed and placed a kiss on his cheek. Logan, though, was a whole other issue. She admitted her crush was silly, ever since she had started making the public speaking circuit those spontaneous kisses and little moments of tentative romance had gone up in smoke. Logan's only interest in her was when students were in the Infirmary under her care and he needed information about their condition. He asked for regular updates on them, there was the occasional conversation over dinner, usually pass me that would you doc? Besides that they rarely had a real conversation. Hope started to apply her makeup for the evening, trying not to frown at her thoughts. A silly little teenage crush, Hope thought, it's because you're spending too much time with teenagers. With Jean and Kitty under her tutelage Hope got all the latest gossip, and got to enjoy some girly giggling in the process, but she'd lost touch with most of her adult friends. She needed a good night out with her friends from the hospital with a few bottles of wine and a few chick flicks.
"What you need is a life," She muttered to herself, putting on the pearl bracelet, "Outside these lectures, television appearances, and magazine interviews." Hope got up from her vanity and picked up the shawl from the bed, wrapping it around her shoulders. It was going to be cold in Washington, so she opened her closet, looking for a jacket. I wonder if Logan has a better jacket than that beat up old leather one, she mused, picking a floor length black jacket out to wear. Lord how those high society scientists would balk at the sight of that jacket. Hope gave a little chuckle at the idea of the Smithsonian director's face contorted in disgust. She desperately wanted Hank to be well suddenly, Logan was not the kind of man you brought to one of these functions. My mother is going to hear about this, Hope thought, picking up her purse and dropping in her phone, date book and pocket organizer. She's going to give me a call and say something about being seen with such a rough looking man, Hope mused, and I'm going to have to explain that I had no other choice and then Mom will try to get me to go on a date with some son or nephew of her friends.
Hope sighed again as a knock came at her door, "In a minute," She called over her shoulder. It was time for her to grin and bear it, which she was slightly good at. She shrugged into her jacket, double checked her reflection in the mirror and opened the door. She stopped thinking about absolutely everything when she caught sight of Logan on the other side. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he also looked handsome. He was the rugged, earthy, and tougher looking James Bond, and Hope had always had a slight crush on Bond.
"Let's go Doc," He said, struggling with his tie.
"Uh," She said, then shook off her happy hormones, "Alright." She strode out past him, just taking a peek over her shoulder to see if he was looking at her. He had stopped fumbling with his tie, there was a look of dumbfounded confusion on his face, but the corners on his mouth were tilted up. He likes it, Hope thought indulging in a girly moment and with a little more confidence she strode towards the hanger.
Hope sighed, Logan had worn the old leather jacket, and made her feel a little over dressed. Of course Logan looked ridiculous in a tux and the leather jacket, milling around in the lobby of the Smithsonian castle. They had taken the X-jet to Baltimore airport, a limo had been waiting, and it had taken them to the Smithsonian. The ballroom where Hope would be speaking was still being set up, and those attending were drinking martinis and conversing outside. Logan had one arm full of their jackets, the other dutifully held Hope's arm. Hope was praying that no one noticed the impolite scowl that Logan turned on everyone. She usually enjoyed these events; Hank was clever and could talk politics or astrophysics. Logan looked like he was on his way to get a root canal.
"You could smile, you know," She whispered to him when a debutant pulled her escort in the opposite direction when Logan fixed his glare on them.
"I'll smile when I'm out of this monkey suit," He growled.
"It's not so bad," Hope said then the doors to ballroom opened, and it caused Logan to groan aloud. Hope wanted to groan too. A big band was playing the fox trot, and at the door stood the director of the Smithsonian.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," He said, catching everyone's attention, "Before tonight's event, please enjoy a fine meal, and some dancing."
"I didn't sign up for this, Doc," Logan said as the crowd pushed them into the ballroom.
"The director does this sometimes, I thought this wasn't one of those events." Hope started to pull Logan towards the head table, "You can just wait at the head table, I have to mingle."
"You're leaving me alone with those guys?"
"Those guys are some of the most important figures in modern science," Hope stopped short of the head table, "Maybe I shouldn't leave you alone with them."
"What's that suppose to mean?"
That I'm worried you could ruin my career, Hope thought, "Nothing, just wait for me here, and once I'm done speaking I'll bow out. I do have to get back to the epidemic." The two seats reserved for her were marked Chandler, and Hope pushed Logan down into the second one, the one farther away from the podium.
She started to leave to mingle, but Logan grabbed her arm, "If they speak to me, what do I say?"
"Most likely they're going to ask if you're a mutant, no don't glare at them like that," Hope scolded when Logan glared like he wanted to kill her, "If you say no, then no one should really bother you."
"And if they do?"
"Lie, Logan, it's Washington, almost everyone will be lying tonight anyway." Hope pried Logan's fingers off her arm, but couldn't resist giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Then before he could notice she was blushing, she darted away to mingle. An important part of getting people to notice her work was telling people about it, the Smithsonian's director was one of her biggest supporters, and he was first on her list of brown nosing.
"Jonathan!" Hope said excitedly as she came up behind the director.
"Dr. Chandler," He smiled and hugged her, lightly kissing her cheek. "Come, dance with me while we talk." He held out his arm, and Hope took it, smiling brightly up at him. Jonathan Taver was sixty something years old, yet he still towered over most of the Smithsonian board. He was a nice man, an incredible mind and very liberal politically, which made his appointment to the Smithsonian a break from the Republican reign. They joined those couples already moving about the dance floor, immediately clearing a space in the crowd.
"So, what have you been up to lately, Dr. Chandler?" Jonathan asked as they circled around the floor.
"I've come up with some intriguing new theories on how the X-gene is transmitted generation to generation," Hope started, but Jonathan laughed.
"No, no, no, Doctor, I mean at your Institute. What has been going on there?"
"It's not my Institute, sir," Hope waggled a finger at him, "And they've all caught the flu."
"Then that chap you brought with you isn't from the Institute? Damn, I always enjoy talking with that one you usually bring."
"Unfortunately Hank was one of the unlucky ones who caught the flu," Hope glanced over her shoulder to the table where Logan sat tapping a fork on the edge of his plate while keeping an eye on her. Oh lord, if he taps any harder he'll break the china.
"Ah, I'll have to send him something to read while he's under the weather," Jonathan said nodding sagely, which brought Hope's attention back to him, "I think I have some of Dickens' journals that he hasn't read."
"I'm sure Hank will appreciate that, he was complaining more about the lack of reading materials than he was the symptoms."
"And this fellow you brought with you tonight, he's someone from the hospital then?"
"He's," Hope bit her lower lip, if she told a lie about Logan, and it wasn't the lie he told, someone was going to ask questions.
"Ah, say no more, Dr. Chandler, he's a suitor. We'll leave it at that and you can tell me more about your theories." Hope sighed, she was back on solid ground. She talked with Jonathan about her theories for a good time, until someone cleared their throat.
"Logan!" Hope said in surprise when she turned around to see who had interrupted, "Um, Mr. Taver, this is Mr. Logan."
"Ah, a pleasure to meet you, young man," Jonathan took Logan's hand and gave it a single shake, "I guess I've been monopolizing your date, well, don't let me stand in your way." Jonathan took a step back, pushed Logan and Hope together and disappeared into the dancing crowd. A little started, Hope naturally assumed the partners position, which Logan reciprocated, just as naturally.
"You...know how to dance?" Hope asked in surprised as they started to follow the crowd, which was pushing them into following.
"Army days," He grunt, looking away from her. Hope looked away too, when were they going to start the presentations? That she could deal with, waltzing around a dance floor with Logan looking everywhere but at her, that was something she wouldn't rather face. She held back a sigh, this was going wonderfully.
"So...uh...where'd you learn how to dance?" Logan asked, looking as uncomfortable as Hope felt.
"Family tradition," Hope answered tentatively, "Mother made me take ballet and classic dance until I went to college." Hope could still do most of the ballet moves, probably, if put to the test remember a routine or two. Another silence descended between them, Hope wondering why she kept dancing with Logan when both of them were desperately trying to not act uncomfortable. "So, the army? Where did you enlist?"
"Canada, long time ago." Hope glanced up at Logan, he sounded like he didn't want to talk about it. Alright, Hope thought, there's something that shouldn't be touched upon again. They circled around the floor, each of them trying to decide if they should stop, but neither wanting to admit that they liked the contact. It was a chance to be close with out the prying eyes of teenagers and collogues on them. It was foolish, they thought, to act like one little dance was going to cause some sort of disastrous result. She was cultured upper class, and he was forgotten by the world, they just shouldn't be dancing together, but they wanted it. They liked the idea that here, for a moment they were nothing more than a dancing couple. She glanced up first, caught him studying her and for once they didn't look away. It was just suppose to be a moment where'd they would just smile at each other, then blush furiously and look away. Only this time they didn't, they were blushing but they didn't look away. He's got such a strong jaw, she thought, watching him with a true romantic's heart. She's got beautiful eyes, he thought, even as he tried to take it back.
"Well," A voice boomed out over the crowd, suddenly whatever spell had trapped them was lifted and Hope jerked away. Had I really been seconds away from kissing him? She thought, rubbing her hands together, trying to wipe away the feeling of him underneath her hands. "I thank you all for coming tonight, we have some great speakers," Jonathan was saying.
"Come on, we have to get back to the table," Hope said quickly, walking away from the dance floor as quickly as possible. What is wrong with me, Hope thought as she walked, I couldn't have been lost in his eyes, for God sake they're just brown. She quickly sat down, not looking towards Logan when he sat down next to her. She shook the last remaining vestiges of the dance floor out of her mind and focused on her notes and speech. Work, that I understand, she thought and with that focused on Jonathan and her introduction.
Hope was very pleased with herself, three new specialist were interested in her work, one even wanted to give her a grant so she could privately practice. She had politely refused the offer though, the Institute was her place of practice. There was only one slight hiccup in her lovely evening, and that was the tension that was jumping between Logan and her. Hope sighed as she slid into the limo, she was so tried and the uneasy silence between herself and Logan was draining away the last of her energy. She sat in the couch like seat closest to the driver, wrapping herself tightly in her jacket and lying down across the seat. She curled her arm underneath her head, closed her eyes and tried to find a comfortable position. She ended up toeing off her heels, rolling her shawl into a pillow, and taking her hair down. She still wasn't completely comfortable, but it would do to catch a nap until the limo stopped at airport. Yet she kept shifting where she lay, not quite comfortable enough, and Hope let out a huge sigh. She heard Logan move from his seat opposite her, and then her shoulders were lifted off the seat. Her eyes flew open, she tried to pull back, but Logan's hands were steady on her shoulders.
"Relax." It was a gruff order, and Hope snuck a peek up at him. He was looking out the window, blushing just a bit, but he gently pushed her back down. She rested her head against his thigh, the shawl in between and she could still feel his warmth. Hope closed her eyes again, trying not to breathe too deeply, because if she did his scent would cloud her brain and she'd end up doing something stupid. She had to admit though, she was far more comfortable lying against him. There was something comforting about him, no matter how far he tried to distance himself from her and others. She didn't drift off to sleep until he started to idly stroke her hair. He must think I'm asleep to touch me like this, I wish he would touch me like this more often was her last thought before completely drifting off. He woke her up when they got to the airport, Hope noticed that the tension was back as she climbed the steps to the jet and that her shawl smelled like Logan. Well, better than nothing, she thought, aren't you pathetic? Hope took her seat, wrapped herself tightly in the shawl and closed her eyes again. She'd feign sleep so she wouldn't have to face the tension, and if she was lucky, she'd actually fall asleep. When she got back to the Institute she'd do a nightly check on everyone, make sure no one needed more medication or orange juice. Then as soon as possible she'd jump in the shower and try to wash away the feeling of Logan's hand running through her hair. When he did things like that Hope began to think about his hands other places, stroking softly, sometimes rougher on her. I have it bad, she mentally groaned, really, really bad. The flight back to the Institute was possibly the longest and worst flight Hope had ever had the pleasure to fly. She was jumpy when the jet finally landed, but she couldn't move, she was suppose to be asleep.
"Come on, Doc," Logan said softly, and Hope slowly opened her eyes. Instantly they met his, and before she could stop herself, she gasped quietly. The spell came back, full force, trapping them both as tightly as she was wrapped in the shawl. What they both wanted could no longer be denied, as his hand came to cup the back of her head, and she sat up straighter in her chair. I want him too much, she thought as her eyes drooped closed and he slowly pulled her heads towards his. I shouldn't be doing this, he thought watching her intently so he could see every little reaction.
Finally she thought he's going to, "GOOD MORNING BAYVILLE!"
Hope shot straight up, one hand clutching her chest, the other automatically slamming down onto the alarm radio. Once there was silence in her bedroom she fell back and covered her face in her hands. It had all been a silly dream and it had been cut off at the best time! God she had been so close to getting that kiss, a kiss she'd been thinking about for way too long. She had been enjoying that dream, and the stupid alarm clock. She checked the clock, it was mid-morning, she'd better start her rounds, everyone had the flu.
Author's Note: Sign, my little romantic heart is satisfied for the time being, but I wish I could write the next story in the series! I have such great ideas for the series, but I can't write anything. Anyway, I hope this tides you over until I can write something. If Logan seems a little out of character, it's because he is Hope's dream Logan, so he's not exactly like the real Logan. Sorry if it bothers you.
Author's Note: It's almost my beta's b-day, actually her birthday isn't until July, but I asked her what she wanted, she asked me to write some senseless fluff for Hope and Logan. So, I started writing some fluff and couldn't stop until I finished it. I know it's early, but for you my dearest beta, some senseless Hope/Logan fluff.
Dr. Hope Chandler dabbed a bit of perfume on her neck, while frowning at her reflection. Everyone in the Institute had caught the flu, an epidemic she had tried to prevent with flu shots, an increase in vitamin C and making sure that everyone got dry after the snowball fights that seemed to break out almost everyday after school. Of course nothing had stopped the spread of the pathogen once it had broken loose in the Institute's halls. It had started with Jean, then it spread to Kitty, who spread it to Rouge and from there it just got out of hand. Even Ororo, Hank and Charles had fallen victim to it, which Hope had not been expecting since they had avoided the Infirmary like Hope had been treating the plague and not the simple flu. The only people who had managed to avoid catching it were Logan, Bobby, and herself. Bobby had simply changed to his ice form at the first signs of symptoms and killed the virus with extreme cold. Logan hadn't even so much as sniffled, or stuffed up, which was not surprising, as he never got sick. Hope had thought she would definitely catch it, she worked all day with the bed ridden, was sneezed on, coughed at, and generally came in contact with the virus every hour of the day. Every night for the past two weeks she had been downing vitamin after vitamin, hoping to stave off the inevitable, and miraculously she had avoided getting the flu. One problem, tonight she had a very big, very important dinner at the Smithsonian Institute to attend and her regular escort, Hank was sick. It left Hope with two choices, bring Bobby or bring Logan. You have to admit though, her conscious scolded, you like the idea of bringing Logan.
"Of course I like the idea," Hope mumbled to herself, putting on her pearl earrings, "It's a better option than bringing a teenager." Or that's the reason she kept trying to get herself to believe. She didn't want to admit that she had been secretly hoping that something would happen to Hank and Logan would have to step in for him. It made her feel terribly guilty when she thought about Hank lying in his bed with a large bowl of soup and a good book. She had thought about not going with an escort at all, almost too embarrassed to ask Logan, but she always attended any event she was going to speak at with someone, usually Hank. Her escort was her second pair of eyes, just incase someone tried to snatch her up. Hope had found the whole idea ridiculous at first, she was just going to speak in front of a group of scientist and doctors, and it wasn't like she was speaking to a bunch of anti-mutant militants. Hope sighed as she adjusted the pearl choker around her neck. There wasn't much she could do about the situation though, before she had even gotten a chance to work up the courage to ask Logan to escort her, Charles had ordered it. The look of astonished horror on Logan's face had given Hope answer enough. He didn't want to escort her to some fancy brain party, and she had accepted that.
"Yeah right," Hope said, checking her reflection again. She'd tamed her hair in a simple, but elegant bun, holding it in place with two pearl inlaid sticks. Her mother had given her those, along with the earrings, a bracelet she had yet to put on and the choker. Pearls were her mother's favorite, and they were Hope's too. You could really never go wrong with a good string of pearls, or a black evening gown, her mother had told her once, and they were words she lived by. With all the talks she did pertaining to her research she found she needed to dress up more and more often, fly to farther and farther places, and all the while she had never gone wrong with a black dress and pearls. Tonight she had chosen a floor length, black satin evening gown with a high collar, but open back. It was something her sister had given her, along with the matching shawl and heels, for some birthday or Christmas a year or so back. Hope had given her a fine hand made Italian suit that year if she remembered correctly. Her sister and Hope shared a passion for dressing up, it was Hope's guilty pleasure, she just loved to shop. Tonight though, her normal confidence she felt when all dressed up was gone, replaced by a mass of butterflies. She didn't want to admit it, but it was Logan's fault. She had sometimes noticed that Logan's eyes would follow her when she was dressed up for these events and she was on her way to the hanger to leave. She also noticed that most of the boys watched her. Kurt had whistled the first time she had one of the events, and Hope had laughed and placed a kiss on his cheek. Logan, though, was a whole other issue. She admitted her crush was silly, ever since she had started making the public speaking circuit those spontaneous kisses and little moments of tentative romance had gone up in smoke. Logan's only interest in her was when students were in the Infirmary under her care and he needed information about their condition. He asked for regular updates on them, there was the occasional conversation over dinner, usually pass me that would you doc? Besides that they rarely had a real conversation. Hope started to apply her makeup for the evening, trying not to frown at her thoughts. A silly little teenage crush, Hope thought, it's because you're spending too much time with teenagers. With Jean and Kitty under her tutelage Hope got all the latest gossip, and got to enjoy some girly giggling in the process, but she'd lost touch with most of her adult friends. She needed a good night out with her friends from the hospital with a few bottles of wine and a few chick flicks.
"What you need is a life," She muttered to herself, putting on the pearl bracelet, "Outside these lectures, television appearances, and magazine interviews." Hope got up from her vanity and picked up the shawl from the bed, wrapping it around her shoulders. It was going to be cold in Washington, so she opened her closet, looking for a jacket. I wonder if Logan has a better jacket than that beat up old leather one, she mused, picking a floor length black jacket out to wear. Lord how those high society scientists would balk at the sight of that jacket. Hope gave a little chuckle at the idea of the Smithsonian director's face contorted in disgust. She desperately wanted Hank to be well suddenly, Logan was not the kind of man you brought to one of these functions. My mother is going to hear about this, Hope thought, picking up her purse and dropping in her phone, date book and pocket organizer. She's going to give me a call and say something about being seen with such a rough looking man, Hope mused, and I'm going to have to explain that I had no other choice and then Mom will try to get me to go on a date with some son or nephew of her friends.
Hope sighed again as a knock came at her door, "In a minute," She called over her shoulder. It was time for her to grin and bear it, which she was slightly good at. She shrugged into her jacket, double checked her reflection in the mirror and opened the door. She stopped thinking about absolutely everything when she caught sight of Logan on the other side. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he also looked handsome. He was the rugged, earthy, and tougher looking James Bond, and Hope had always had a slight crush on Bond.
"Let's go Doc," He said, struggling with his tie.
"Uh," She said, then shook off her happy hormones, "Alright." She strode out past him, just taking a peek over her shoulder to see if he was looking at her. He had stopped fumbling with his tie, there was a look of dumbfounded confusion on his face, but the corners on his mouth were tilted up. He likes it, Hope thought indulging in a girly moment and with a little more confidence she strode towards the hanger.
Hope sighed, Logan had worn the old leather jacket, and made her feel a little over dressed. Of course Logan looked ridiculous in a tux and the leather jacket, milling around in the lobby of the Smithsonian castle. They had taken the X-jet to Baltimore airport, a limo had been waiting, and it had taken them to the Smithsonian. The ballroom where Hope would be speaking was still being set up, and those attending were drinking martinis and conversing outside. Logan had one arm full of their jackets, the other dutifully held Hope's arm. Hope was praying that no one noticed the impolite scowl that Logan turned on everyone. She usually enjoyed these events; Hank was clever and could talk politics or astrophysics. Logan looked like he was on his way to get a root canal.
"You could smile, you know," She whispered to him when a debutant pulled her escort in the opposite direction when Logan fixed his glare on them.
"I'll smile when I'm out of this monkey suit," He growled.
"It's not so bad," Hope said then the doors to ballroom opened, and it caused Logan to groan aloud. Hope wanted to groan too. A big band was playing the fox trot, and at the door stood the director of the Smithsonian.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," He said, catching everyone's attention, "Before tonight's event, please enjoy a fine meal, and some dancing."
"I didn't sign up for this, Doc," Logan said as the crowd pushed them into the ballroom.
"The director does this sometimes, I thought this wasn't one of those events." Hope started to pull Logan towards the head table, "You can just wait at the head table, I have to mingle."
"You're leaving me alone with those guys?"
"Those guys are some of the most important figures in modern science," Hope stopped short of the head table, "Maybe I shouldn't leave you alone with them."
"What's that suppose to mean?"
That I'm worried you could ruin my career, Hope thought, "Nothing, just wait for me here, and once I'm done speaking I'll bow out. I do have to get back to the epidemic." The two seats reserved for her were marked Chandler, and Hope pushed Logan down into the second one, the one farther away from the podium.
She started to leave to mingle, but Logan grabbed her arm, "If they speak to me, what do I say?"
"Most likely they're going to ask if you're a mutant, no don't glare at them like that," Hope scolded when Logan glared like he wanted to kill her, "If you say no, then no one should really bother you."
"And if they do?"
"Lie, Logan, it's Washington, almost everyone will be lying tonight anyway." Hope pried Logan's fingers off her arm, but couldn't resist giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Then before he could notice she was blushing, she darted away to mingle. An important part of getting people to notice her work was telling people about it, the Smithsonian's director was one of her biggest supporters, and he was first on her list of brown nosing.
"Jonathan!" Hope said excitedly as she came up behind the director.
"Dr. Chandler," He smiled and hugged her, lightly kissing her cheek. "Come, dance with me while we talk." He held out his arm, and Hope took it, smiling brightly up at him. Jonathan Taver was sixty something years old, yet he still towered over most of the Smithsonian board. He was a nice man, an incredible mind and very liberal politically, which made his appointment to the Smithsonian a break from the Republican reign. They joined those couples already moving about the dance floor, immediately clearing a space in the crowd.
"So, what have you been up to lately, Dr. Chandler?" Jonathan asked as they circled around the floor.
"I've come up with some intriguing new theories on how the X-gene is transmitted generation to generation," Hope started, but Jonathan laughed.
"No, no, no, Doctor, I mean at your Institute. What has been going on there?"
"It's not my Institute, sir," Hope waggled a finger at him, "And they've all caught the flu."
"Then that chap you brought with you isn't from the Institute? Damn, I always enjoy talking with that one you usually bring."
"Unfortunately Hank was one of the unlucky ones who caught the flu," Hope glanced over her shoulder to the table where Logan sat tapping a fork on the edge of his plate while keeping an eye on her. Oh lord, if he taps any harder he'll break the china.
"Ah, I'll have to send him something to read while he's under the weather," Jonathan said nodding sagely, which brought Hope's attention back to him, "I think I have some of Dickens' journals that he hasn't read."
"I'm sure Hank will appreciate that, he was complaining more about the lack of reading materials than he was the symptoms."
"And this fellow you brought with you tonight, he's someone from the hospital then?"
"He's," Hope bit her lower lip, if she told a lie about Logan, and it wasn't the lie he told, someone was going to ask questions.
"Ah, say no more, Dr. Chandler, he's a suitor. We'll leave it at that and you can tell me more about your theories." Hope sighed, she was back on solid ground. She talked with Jonathan about her theories for a good time, until someone cleared their throat.
"Logan!" Hope said in surprise when she turned around to see who had interrupted, "Um, Mr. Taver, this is Mr. Logan."
"Ah, a pleasure to meet you, young man," Jonathan took Logan's hand and gave it a single shake, "I guess I've been monopolizing your date, well, don't let me stand in your way." Jonathan took a step back, pushed Logan and Hope together and disappeared into the dancing crowd. A little started, Hope naturally assumed the partners position, which Logan reciprocated, just as naturally.
"You...know how to dance?" Hope asked in surprised as they started to follow the crowd, which was pushing them into following.
"Army days," He grunt, looking away from her. Hope looked away too, when were they going to start the presentations? That she could deal with, waltzing around a dance floor with Logan looking everywhere but at her, that was something she wouldn't rather face. She held back a sigh, this was going wonderfully.
"So...uh...where'd you learn how to dance?" Logan asked, looking as uncomfortable as Hope felt.
"Family tradition," Hope answered tentatively, "Mother made me take ballet and classic dance until I went to college." Hope could still do most of the ballet moves, probably, if put to the test remember a routine or two. Another silence descended between them, Hope wondering why she kept dancing with Logan when both of them were desperately trying to not act uncomfortable. "So, the army? Where did you enlist?"
"Canada, long time ago." Hope glanced up at Logan, he sounded like he didn't want to talk about it. Alright, Hope thought, there's something that shouldn't be touched upon again. They circled around the floor, each of them trying to decide if they should stop, but neither wanting to admit that they liked the contact. It was a chance to be close with out the prying eyes of teenagers and collogues on them. It was foolish, they thought, to act like one little dance was going to cause some sort of disastrous result. She was cultured upper class, and he was forgotten by the world, they just shouldn't be dancing together, but they wanted it. They liked the idea that here, for a moment they were nothing more than a dancing couple. She glanced up first, caught him studying her and for once they didn't look away. It was just suppose to be a moment where'd they would just smile at each other, then blush furiously and look away. Only this time they didn't, they were blushing but they didn't look away. He's got such a strong jaw, she thought, watching him with a true romantic's heart. She's got beautiful eyes, he thought, even as he tried to take it back.
"Well," A voice boomed out over the crowd, suddenly whatever spell had trapped them was lifted and Hope jerked away. Had I really been seconds away from kissing him? She thought, rubbing her hands together, trying to wipe away the feeling of him underneath her hands. "I thank you all for coming tonight, we have some great speakers," Jonathan was saying.
"Come on, we have to get back to the table," Hope said quickly, walking away from the dance floor as quickly as possible. What is wrong with me, Hope thought as she walked, I couldn't have been lost in his eyes, for God sake they're just brown. She quickly sat down, not looking towards Logan when he sat down next to her. She shook the last remaining vestiges of the dance floor out of her mind and focused on her notes and speech. Work, that I understand, she thought and with that focused on Jonathan and her introduction.
Hope was very pleased with herself, three new specialist were interested in her work, one even wanted to give her a grant so she could privately practice. She had politely refused the offer though, the Institute was her place of practice. There was only one slight hiccup in her lovely evening, and that was the tension that was jumping between Logan and her. Hope sighed as she slid into the limo, she was so tried and the uneasy silence between herself and Logan was draining away the last of her energy. She sat in the couch like seat closest to the driver, wrapping herself tightly in her jacket and lying down across the seat. She curled her arm underneath her head, closed her eyes and tried to find a comfortable position. She ended up toeing off her heels, rolling her shawl into a pillow, and taking her hair down. She still wasn't completely comfortable, but it would do to catch a nap until the limo stopped at airport. Yet she kept shifting where she lay, not quite comfortable enough, and Hope let out a huge sigh. She heard Logan move from his seat opposite her, and then her shoulders were lifted off the seat. Her eyes flew open, she tried to pull back, but Logan's hands were steady on her shoulders.
"Relax." It was a gruff order, and Hope snuck a peek up at him. He was looking out the window, blushing just a bit, but he gently pushed her back down. She rested her head against his thigh, the shawl in between and she could still feel his warmth. Hope closed her eyes again, trying not to breathe too deeply, because if she did his scent would cloud her brain and she'd end up doing something stupid. She had to admit though, she was far more comfortable lying against him. There was something comforting about him, no matter how far he tried to distance himself from her and others. She didn't drift off to sleep until he started to idly stroke her hair. He must think I'm asleep to touch me like this, I wish he would touch me like this more often was her last thought before completely drifting off. He woke her up when they got to the airport, Hope noticed that the tension was back as she climbed the steps to the jet and that her shawl smelled like Logan. Well, better than nothing, she thought, aren't you pathetic? Hope took her seat, wrapped herself tightly in the shawl and closed her eyes again. She'd feign sleep so she wouldn't have to face the tension, and if she was lucky, she'd actually fall asleep. When she got back to the Institute she'd do a nightly check on everyone, make sure no one needed more medication or orange juice. Then as soon as possible she'd jump in the shower and try to wash away the feeling of Logan's hand running through her hair. When he did things like that Hope began to think about his hands other places, stroking softly, sometimes rougher on her. I have it bad, she mentally groaned, really, really bad. The flight back to the Institute was possibly the longest and worst flight Hope had ever had the pleasure to fly. She was jumpy when the jet finally landed, but she couldn't move, she was suppose to be asleep.
"Come on, Doc," Logan said softly, and Hope slowly opened her eyes. Instantly they met his, and before she could stop herself, she gasped quietly. The spell came back, full force, trapping them both as tightly as she was wrapped in the shawl. What they both wanted could no longer be denied, as his hand came to cup the back of her head, and she sat up straighter in her chair. I want him too much, she thought as her eyes drooped closed and he slowly pulled her heads towards his. I shouldn't be doing this, he thought watching her intently so he could see every little reaction.
Finally she thought he's going to, "GOOD MORNING BAYVILLE!"
Hope shot straight up, one hand clutching her chest, the other automatically slamming down onto the alarm radio. Once there was silence in her bedroom she fell back and covered her face in her hands. It had all been a silly dream and it had been cut off at the best time! God she had been so close to getting that kiss, a kiss she'd been thinking about for way too long. She had been enjoying that dream, and the stupid alarm clock. She checked the clock, it was mid-morning, she'd better start her rounds, everyone had the flu.
Author's Note: Sign, my little romantic heart is satisfied for the time being, but I wish I could write the next story in the series! I have such great ideas for the series, but I can't write anything. Anyway, I hope this tides you over until I can write something. If Logan seems a little out of character, it's because he is Hope's dream Logan, so he's not exactly like the real Logan. Sorry if it bothers you.