Logan half expected an introduction when they descended the grand staircase leading to the ballroom. Actually he doesn't know what to expect. Attending high profile frivolous affairs is not usually part of the job. But inviting the Xavier School to the charity gala was a generous gesture in the governer's part, if not game changing. And thus they show up, put on their best PR face, and began mingling with the guests.

Logan's quite charming, Jean thought, in spite of what he thinks. He greeted Jean's acquaintances with a smile. He didn't flinch when a woman in her 70s complimented his sideburns. And he didn't roll his eyes at inane questions such as "If your arm was cut off, how fast will it grow back?"

But after half an hour of chit chat and pleasantries, Logan began glancing at the bar. Small talk is not the Wolverine's forte.

"Remind me why I'm here again?"

"Because we're representing the school."

"But it's boring as hell. And this tie is choking me. Does it have to be this tight?"

Jean squeezed his arm. "Quit whining."

"I'm not whi - ." He stopped because he is.

Jean led him through the crowd.

"Ms. Grey, nice to see you."

"Michael, hi. Logan, Atty Michael Alcott. Michael, Logan."

Micheal shook his hand. "No last name?"

Logan bared his teeth into a grin. He's gonna be one of those guys.

"Howlett."

A woman greeted Jean and she excused herself.

"Are you an instructor at the Xavier School as well?"

"Yeah."

"Now that's a noble cause. Training young minds and lost souls. Really admirable," he replied with panache. "The city needs more people like you."

Logan grunted in response.

A few seconds ticked by. "So how did you know Jean?"

"She's assisting me with a client - " He leaned forward. "A mutant client."

Michael looked at him knowingly as if they are conspirators.

"Uh huh"

"A colleague suggested I contact Jean to get some insights for the defense counsel. And I got to say, having a mutant expert on board is definitely an advantage."

"Mutant expert," Logan muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not an adjective you just throw around."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like saying a black expert or an Indian expert."

The corners of the attorney's mouth curved upwards. "You don't look like the kind of guy who takes offense on semantics."

"Trust me I ain't," he replied. "Excuse me."

Logan landed at the bar. "Got some whiskey?"

Jean's arm snaked around his waist. "Hey stranger. Where have you been?"

"Hiding. Marty, some champagne please."

"Of course it's the bartender you got talking with."

"I like him the best. These rich pretentious people, you have to listen to them yammer about and they don't hand you alcohol."

"They're not all bad. And they're not all rich. They're just well dressed like you,"

"Which is why I'm feeling like an oddball imposter. Here."

Jean raised her glass. "To a night that's half over."

"To the wonderful sex ahead."

"You don't have to make a toast of it."

"Yes we do. Because you owe me."

"Actually Hank owes you. He's the one who bailed. Ask him for sexual favors."

"Ha, funny. Well who volunteered me to take his place?"

"You rather I ask Scott?"

"Fine, you win."

"I always do," she grinned kissing him.

Logan was finally having a good time. Food was served, wine flowing. Various people were talking in their table. Jean was doing most of the conversing and he just hung back and nodded at the appropriate times.

Then a deep baritone spoke from behind them. "Well if it isn't the stunning Ms. Grey."

Jean spun around and a faint flush crept on her cheeks.

"Ollie! Hi, I didn't think I'd see you here."

Ollie flashed a grin. "Fashionably late I'm afraid."

Who the hell is this guy, Logan thought. He sized him up. Tall, broad shouldered, blonde, white pristine suit. Toothpaste commercial smile.

"Oh, Ollie, this is Logan, my boyfriend. Logan, Ollie. He's one of the lawyers who opposed the anti mutant registration act."

"Nice to meet you Logan. But pardon my manners, this is a lovely tune. Can I borrow Jean for a dance?" he asked, smoothly offering Jean a hand.

Logan glared. "Do I have a choice?"

Jean breifly gave him a pointed look before turning to Ollie. "Sure I'd love to."

Logan's eyes and ears trailed the pair as Ollie led the waltz.

The boy wonder is telling Jean how he got off a speeding ticket on the way here. He was suave, charming, and worse of all, he was making Jean laugh.

"I can't believe you got away with that ridiculous story," she grinned.

"What can I say, the power of persuassion," said Ollie, "which of course is an area you have no problem in."

Jean tensed up. "What do you mean?"

"Are you fishing for a compliment? Because you do know you're gorgeous right?" he replied, eyes twinkling.

"Oh." She gave a reliefed chuckle. Or a flattered giggle, as Logan is hearing it.

"I bet you just flash that smile and men will scramble to do your bidding."

"First of all that sounds like a line you throw out all the time."

"Ouch," Ollie replied in mock pain.

Jean rolled her eyes. "And second, you should stop flirting. My boyfriend's sitting over there."

"I know, and he looks like he's about to murder me."

Jean glanced his way and indeed Logan had his fists in a ball.

"He does..."

"What does he do again?"

"Umm, he's an instructor at the school."

"You sure he's not a mercenary killer or something?"

Jean looked over Ollie's shoulder. Logan was giving them the death stare, not unsimilar to the look he gives when he's about to lunge at Sabertooth.

"Whatever gave you that the impression?"

"If I remember correctly you were married to this guy who wears red shades. And then you disappeared and I don't see you for years and now you're with a new guy. When can I catch a break?"

Logan raised an eyebrow. He didn't think Jean knew this Ollie guy from way back.

"Scott and I didn't work out, obviously. And Logan... he's an old friend."

"I'm an old friend," Ollie replied in jest.

"Well he knows me inside out. Seen me at my worst and sticks with me in spite of it." Jean gave a little shrug. "He's just my rock and soul mate you know? Took me a while to realize it."

"Rock and soul mate, man, that's hard to beat. Lucky bastard."

"Who's a lucky bastard?" Logan asked, appearing silently.

"Oh just some guy," Jean replied.

"May I cut in?" he asked, his brown eyes locked on Jean's.

Ollie gave way but not before kissing Jean on the cheek. "See you around Red." He nodded at Logan. "Take care of her, good sir."

Logan glanced at Ollie incredulously as he walked away. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Manners," she warned.

"The hell with manners. I was ready to punch him in the face."

Jean cocked an eyebrow.

"And then I thought I might get blood all over his white as snow suit and you'd be pissed because we'll have to pay for his dry cleaning."

"Thank God for logical thought."

"Although what you said about me being your rock. That helped too."

"And I meant it with all my heart."

"I guess I am a lucky bastard."

"We both are. You saved me, Logan. When my world was falling apart, you were there. Without questions. No conditions. And I love you for that. For all of it."

His heart ached at her tender reply. Logan titled her chin and kissed her deeply, as if transmitting all his feelings through this single kiss.

When they pulled apart, Logan rested his forehead on hers. "This night ain't bad after all."

"Yeah and look I even got you dancing," she smiled.

"Darlin' I'll dance with you whenever you want," he murmured. "Sign me up for the next one."