Jean shuffled through a stack of papers; her desk had become her life. She rarely made it to her bed at night, waking up on the office couch stiff and cold, only to sit at the desk and continue her work.
"Where is that..." she muttered to herself.
Tugging the left drawer open, she jammed her hand blindly inside and snatched her hand back with a gasp. Blood welled up on her palm,
"Shit," she reached for a few tissues, looking carefully into the drawer.
She pulled out the letter opener Logan had given her, a miniature version of one of his favorite swords. While he thought it was funny, she knew it was the first time he had expressed his love for her.
Logan would have come and carried her to bed.
She blamed it on lack of sleep, but with the opener in one hand and a wad of tissues in the other, she buried her head into those hands and cried quietly, whatever she was looking for completely forgotten.

Present Day…

"Hey Logan."
"Worthington," he replied.
"Have you seen my wife around?"
"Follow the smell of diapers, might help you."
"Would you mind giving me some help there, I don't exactly have your keen sense of smell."
"They're heading this way," Logan muttered.
The kitchen door swung open a minute later, Betsy holding Norah as Jean settled at the table with her list.
"There she is."
"Great," Logan snorted, though he smiled at Norah.
"Which one of us," Betsy smiled.
"Both, hand her over."
Betsy gave Norah to Warren, placing a kiss on his lips.
"I love this girl," Warren grinned as Norah gnawed on his finger.
"If slobber is your thing," Logan muttered.
"You don't seem to mind every time you have her in your arms," Jean replied.
"I meant Warren."
"How often do you hold Warren then," she smirked.
"Sorry Logan, I'm taken," Warren smirked.
"You're just jealous," Jean replied, looking over her glasses at him.
"You know, bosslady, it's that mouth of yours that just makes me-"
"Be my guest and try finishing that sentence," Jean rolled her eyes, not knowing Betsy did the same behind her back.
"Charles would be so disappointed in you," Logan snarled.
Betsy and Warren looked at each other, and left the room.
"Take it out on the Danger Room, would you? I don't have time for one of your dark moods to destroy the mansion."
"You just can't resist trying to make me angry enough to leave," he slammed his fist on the table.
"Is it working," she demanded.
"Try harder," he growled.
"Be careful what you ask for, you'll get it," she stood up and headed to the door.
"I'm not done with you," he followed her with a dangerous gaze.
"I am!"