A/N Hey guys, so right back into the story. Sorry for the wait... Blah blahblah Oh and Logan's age? If the year was 2014, he—according to the movie wiki—is 182... So I just rounded it. Please no reviews going on about how I'm wrong.

I own nothing

Ivy's POV

"My only family is Victor. So no, sorry." Logan apologized, sending me a small smile from his place on the bed.

I gave him a weak smile in response, guilt still eating away at my insides, "Don't apologize, just means less cards for me to write out." I reminded him, lifting up the half-written Christmas card before allowing it to drop back to the table with a resounding smack.

Logan chuckled, stretching out his limbs lightly, "If you hate them so much, why send them?" He questioned.

I shrugged, "Well, it's... a thing. You..." I huffed and sent him a small glare. "Shut up."

He sent me a shocked look, "Half of the cards you're sending are to people who live in the same house as you!" He exclaimed, wandering over to pick at the cards labelled for the other teachers in the building.

I slapped at his hand, "Just... Go do something productive." I muttered, frowning as I continued writing in an elegant script.

An ache started in my wrist, "Like fix something of mine!" I finished, signing my name with a flourish.

Logan scoffed, moving behind me to play with the ends of my ponytail. "How come you're not writing my name? Too embarrassed to admit you have a boyfriend?"

I frowned, now noticing that only my name was written in the black ink, "Oh... shit." I deadpanned.

"Yes," He agreed, "Shit."

I looked back over the pile of closed envelopes, pursing my lips thoughtfully. I wasn't embarrassed per say... more... forgetful of said boyfriend. I let a sigh escape my lips as I dragged the pile back over to myself, smirking over my shoulder as I continued to open every single one.

"And now what are you doing?" Logan asked after a moment, frowning and halting his fingers path through my hair.

"Writing your name." I stated plainly, pausing just before I actually started. "Uh, do you want to write it or me?" I asked slowly, unsure for a split second.

Logan shook his head wildly, "No, no. You write it. I'd ruin the whole, peaceful look." He said, waving his hand to emphasis his point.

I rolled my eyes, "Don't have to say peaceful with such disgust." I murmured under my breath. Logan's hands went back to weaving through my hair, the calloused pads of his fingers brushing against the back of my neck.

After a few minutes of me continuing my writing and Logan absently untying my hair to run his fingers through, I stopped and frowned. "You know, when I met you," I began slowly; "I never thought you would've been like... this."

Logan cocked his head, his unsteady reflection in the window moving with him, "Like what exactly?" He demanded.

I shrugged, feeling my hair brush against my shoulders, "You're real affectionate." I told him, "And touchy."

His fingers hesitated in their movements, "Is... Is that a bad thing?" He questioned nervously.

I bit my lip, closing another envelope, "No, I just... didn't expect it is all." I shrugged again.

"Bad boy image is exactly that Ivy, an image." He admitted, "It's easier to have people hate you then to try to make friends."

I frowned, "So you wanted me to hate you?" I asked, my voice raising a few octaves.

He blinked, "I guess so yeah..." He admitted, "I wasn't sure if I could trust you, or even if I did decide to become friends, that you would stick around."

I smiled softly, "You were scared that if you got attached it would hurt more when I leave?" I cooed, smiling over my shoulder at the large man.

"When you leave?" He inquired

I smiled but corrected myself, "If I leave..."

Logan shook his head roughly, "Enough about leaving, my head hurts." He whined, dropping his head on my shoulder before closing his eyes.

I breathed softly, pursing my lips as I blew lightly on the top of head. With a quick jolt of his head, he stopped me and sent my pen tumbling to the ground. I let out a loud, displeased groan.

"Seriously? Young man pick that up." I commanded.

Logan cocked a brow, "Young man? You don't know how old I am do you?" He asked curiously.

I hesitated then, the question hanging in my mind, waiting for an answer to dredge itself up from my memories. When nothing came, I turned to face the man, the question written on my face.

"I-uh, how old?" I asked weakly, "Just wondering." I waved off when he smiled smugly.

"You really wanna know?" He asked, leaning in closer, his voice going to a stage whisper, "Really wanna know?"

At my nod he smiled, all teeth. "Round about 180 years..."

I spluttered, jumping off my seat, pen and cards forgotten. "Sweet Jesus!" I exclaimed, staring at the—seemingly—young man in front of me.

Logan winced, "Yeah." He said simply. No other words tumbled from his mouth as he waited, eyes glued to me and my reaction.

"You, my friend," I said, pointing to him. "Are the definition of a sugar daddy."

He frowned, licking his lips. "I'm a what?"

I hesitated, smiling when his confusion only grew. "A sugar daddy. You know a guy who dates woman, like, fifty years younger than them... Or in your case 150 years younger."

He rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish expression replacing the confusion. "You don't need to rub it in." He mumbled, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.

A smirk made its home on my lips. "Oh yes. Yes I do Grandpa."

Logan growled, narrowing his eyes, "I said don't rub it in."

I shook my head playfully, smiling as I skipped across the room, "No you said that I don't need too... I want too. Completely different." I stated, wrinkling my nose at his pissed off expression.

"Well, now I've changed my mind. Do not rub it in or I will skin you." He threatened, smiling overly sweetly.

I felt my lips purse, "Nah, you wouldn't do that... You like all my skin exactly where it is..." I said coyly, smiling when his expression softened.

Logan smiled again, once again displaying his teeth in a flash of white. "I can always put it back when I'm finished... Or just," He juggled an invisible weight in his hands. "Change things up a bit."

I felt a distraught look capture my eyes, "That is just... Rude." I finished in disgust, scoffing as I wandered back over to the desk, absently picking up the pen before it leaked ink everywhere.

"I am the Wolverine. Since when have I done polite?"

A shrug, "You're Canadian." I stated dumbly.

Logan smiled, "You've been watching too much damn 'How I met your Mother.'"

"Have not." I mumbled under my breath.

We fell into silence, the scratching of my pen taking up the room again. I almost instantly regretted allowing our conversation to end, since the silence allowed my thoughts to return. And after my thoughts returned, so did the blasted guilt from earlier.

The gut wrenching guilt.

"Logan?" I began, "I think we need to talk."

Jean rolled her eyes, one hand absently rubbing her flat stomach. It won't be flat for long, a small voice echoed in her head, making a blinding smile take over her features.

"Jean?" Scott questioned, turning just in time to catch the large—and somewhat unexpected—smile.

Red hair flipped around as she spun to face the father of her child, the smile fading in a small curve of her lips. "Yeah?" She replied, motioning for him to take a seat next to her.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, "I mean, is it too cold for you? Do you need a jacket?" He blasted off question after question, barely giving her time to breath let alone answer.

"Scott!" She laughed out, the warm smile now directed at him, "I'm fine okay, I was just happy." She waved off, wrinkling her nose at her husband's worry.

"Oh. Oh, okay then, anyway as I was saying..."

Jean once again rolled her eyes, resting her chin on her clenched hand as he dove back into his pros and cons speech. His hands waved about the new car, gingerly touching the new paint and shiny tires as he explained.

Half of the words—admittedly, no use denying—went right over her head. She had never understood her husband's fascination with engines and dynamics but she never argued the point. If he wanted to spend hours out in that cold garage, who was she to stop him. It's not like anyone else was out there, putting the expensive tools to work anyway.

As Jean smiled dumbly over at her partner and said partner smiled dumbly at the shiny car before him, a pair of eyes watched from one of the upper windows.

"She hasn't told him yet," Victor decided, ripping his eyes away from the happy family at the front of the darkening house. His closed off eyes turned and landed on a tanned woman, fingers gingerly playing with the ends of her shirt.

"How do you know?" Storm questioned, frowning over at the mutant as he stalked away from the window.

Victor gave a wide smile, revealing pointed teeth in the process, "Because Jimmy hasn't broken down my door." He told her, the smile fading almost instantly.

Storm cracked a smile of her own, "Yet..." She trailed off, relishing in the way Victor's attention snapped back to her.

He frowned, the expression all too familiar on his features. He didn't have a retort for that, mostly because he knew she was telling the truth. Ivy would tell Logan and then, only then, would his door take the pounding.

He dropped himself on the edge of the bed, turning to face Storm as she began to chatter away, stars practically shining in her eyes.

"...But as I was saying, knowing their relationship, Ivy won't let Logan do something rash!" She finished with a flourish, the look on her face showing how smug she was of her reasoning.

It was pretty sound after all.

"So my door..?" Victor trailed off, looking concerned but amused at the direction their conversation was taking.

Storm waved a hand, "Sheesh, your door will be fine."

Victor smiled gently, his lips firmly together, "Good, I've grown quite attached." He commented idly, smiling brighter when Storm looked dumbfounded.

"I don't get it."

Ivy's POV

"Come again..." Logan growled dangerously, eyes flashing.

I swallowed thickly, collecting myself in the tense silence. "I mean, it's not even that bad... It's only like." I frowned and pinched my forefinger and thumb together, "Like that big!"

Logan narrowed chocolate coloured orbs, "I don't care about the damned size Ivy!" He yelled, "When were you going to tell me about this?"

I sighed, a headache growing at the corner of my eyes, "I was looking for you! How do you think I got lost in the first place?" I yelled right back, hair now free from the confines of the band. "I was about to tell you but you were so happy and I didn't want to ruin it!"

Logan's face registered shock at first, the anger falling away to reveal a lost look. I grimaced and ripped a hand through my hair, tugging on the flaming locks viciously. Logan's large frame turned away from me, and he faced the window, lost in his own thoughts.

I backed away until I felt the crook of my knees hit the bed, allowing myself to drop down. Only hours before Logan and I had been laughing on said bed, laughing until our ribs hurt and tears ran down our cheeks. But now, the room felt empty.

And cold.

"When did you find out?" He asked quietly, still not turning to face me.

I felt a pang of loss, "This afternoon... When... When I dragged Victor off..." I told him forlornly, almost sensing him distancing himself from me.

"What does he know about it?" Question number two.

I sighed, "I can't really explain it Logan. You'd have to ask him." I told him, looking down and mumbling the last part.

He turned then, frowning over at me with a distant look. "Fine, I will." He stated, storming out of the room, his boots slapping against the hardwood floor angrily.

I blinked back tears as I watched him go, feeling at a loss. I didn't know whether to run after him or crawl under the covers of my bed and cry. My feet made me stand and for a second I thought I was going to run. Out the door and down the hallway until I was meet with the sight of Logan once again.

But as I heard the door to Victor's room slam open and loud voices echo throughout the manor, my feet carried me in the opposite direction. Towards the bathroom. I didn't complain as my aching limbs switched on the shower and locked the door, allowing the steam to build up rapidly.

As I stripped bare, my gaze flew to the mirror and settled on my reflection. The angry red wound on the junction of my neck screamed back at me mockingly.

The slight blood and clear liquid surrounding it almost seemed unnatural. I wasn't mean to have a wound that stayed. That made its home on my alabaster flesh.

It shouldn't be there.

With a quick look over at the locked door, I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small blade. The fingers of my free hand pulled at my skin, smoothing it out before the blade was pressed firmly against the red wound.

It shouldn't be there.

With a determined look blazing in my green eyes, I pressed down.

Hey guys, I hope you liked it. , for me something was off... Anyway I would love some reviews! Please please please, it only takes like five seconds!

-Taila