Forces of Nature
By: Kismet Noelani
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. They all belong to many other people and various corporations. I only came up with the plot here. Don't sue me. I'm broke.
Author's Notes: Please be gentle with me. This is only my second fic. I chose this couple because I think they would be cute together. Plus, I think Storm is a rather neglected character. And for those who are reading The Hunter it is currently being revamped. I'm just on a brief hiatus; there's more to come. That's all my notes. Please review! Thanks!
Chapter One: Storms and Bourbon
It was hot. Oppressively hot.
And humid.
It was far too hot to sleep. At least, that was Ororo's opinion.
"At least in Africa it was just hot. This humidity is insane! Why won't it rain already?" she grumped to herself as she climbed down the stairs from her attic bedroom. She could feel the rain. The clouds hung heavy and low over the grounds. They were more then ready to burst. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why it wasn't pouring. She growled low in the back of her throat. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so irritated. She had a headache.
She stalked angrily into the kitchen, swatted at the light switch, and opened the freezer letting the icy air engulf her. Normally Ororo wore a big fuzzy robe over her nearly non-existent pj's, but tonight it was just too hot to bother with anything more than her crop top and thin cotton boxer shorts.
After a moment of just standing, Ororo closed the freezer. It may have cooled her off, but it didn't ever begin to touch the real problem. It wasn't what she needed. What she needed, was a drink.
She opened the refrigerator door and began rummaging. Beer. They had beer. Ick. And milk. Double ick. And that was all. Ororo twisted her face into a sour expression as she slammed the door. Whose turn was it to go grocery shopping anyway? She turned around in a tight circle, looking for something to drink when she noticed the small side door was unlocked. With an exasperated sigh she crossed the kitchen and quickly locked it.
She could feel the pressure from the storm building in her head. She wasn't one to drink normally, but she just couldn't take it any more. She turned, opened the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of Bourbon and a shot glass, and hoisted herself onto the counter.
Her first shot went down smooth as silk. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of good liquor. One more shot, maybe two and she would have no problem getting to sleep, storm or no. She had never been much of a drinker and, consequently, had little tolerance for alcohol. Three was the absolute limit.
*****
Logan stomped around the perimeter of the grounds. He couldn't sleep. He was too restless.
And damn if it wasn't hot as hell.
He'd already stomped over to the garage but he was too restless to work on his bike.
"There's nothing to do. Nothing to fight, nothing to do..." he grumbled to himself over and over while he paced around the grounds. He was on his third lap around the building when the kitchen light went on.
"Nothing to do...nothing to," he stopped suddenly and stared at the kitchen. "Drink! I'll have a drink!" He turned and pushed his way through the heavy air to the small door at the back of the kitchen. He stalked over and turned the handle.
It didn't move.
Someone had locked the door. His door. How dare they?
Pissed off beyond all reason at the door being locked, Logan stormed to the main door, yanked it open, and slammed it shut. Feeling a little better after venting his frustrations, he went more quietly into the kitchen. Whoever was there was going to get the worst telling off of their life.
He opened the door and peered in to see Ororo. He couldn't yell at Ororo. She was... untouchable. He frowned and looked back. She was sitting on the counter top with an empty shot glass in one hand and a bottle of Bourbon in the other.
He blinked once. Ororo was drinking?
He took a second look to make sure that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. Nope, Ororo was doing shots.
He shook his head and opened the door all the way, entering the kitchen. Maybe she wasn't untouchable after all.
Ororo watched him stomp over to the refrigerator, pull it open, and grab a beer. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and poured herself a second shot. What was he doing here anyway? He was intruding on her solitude. Her eyes slid back to him as he popped off the top of his beer bottle and took a long drink. For goodness sake! Couldn't the man put some close on? Jeans didn't make an outfit all by themselves.
Logan studied her as she turned her attention back to the Bourbon. He watched her delicately lift the glass to her mouth and pour it in. Her lips were beautiful, full. Kissable lips, he thought irrelevantly.
They watched each other warily for a moment before he raised one eyebrow and said very mildly, "You know, drinking alone is a sign of alcoholism."
"What do you care?" she snapped, angry that he was there, angry that he had spoken, angry that he of all people had the nerve to saw that to her!
Logan's other eyebrow rose to join the first and he looked over her again. He had never seen her loose her cool before. Not for any reason. Not even when John had lit her desk on fire. Somehow he had always thought she was too icy...too controlled to ever loose it. Evidently she had her bad days just like everyone else.
"I was just commenting," he said just as mildly, leaning against the counter next to her and taking another pull on his beer. That sat in silence for a moment. "What are you doing up?" he asked suddenly.
"It's too hot," she growled. "And humid. Why won't it rain already?"
He turned to face her; a small part of his mind was amused to hear her growl. Who knew? The other part was seeing her for the first time. Why couldn't she put some clothes on anyway? That little top didn't hide much. He had to admit she had a great body. And she was growling. And complaining. And drinking! A far cry from her generally aloof attitude.
Ororo watched him finish off his beer. He tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin and reached up for a shot glass. He snagged the Bourbon bottle and poured them each another shot.
"So, what exactly is the problem?" he asked.
She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, wondering if he really cared about the answer, but decided to go ahead. She needed to vent to someone, whether they cared or not. "It's too hot to sleep. It's going to storm any minute and the pressure is driving me crazy!"
Logan still couldn't quite understand the problem. He could see that her connection with the weather was getting to her but... "Why don't you make it rain then?"
She sighed deeply. "I would love to but I generally try to let nature take her own course. I don't like to meddle if I don't have to." She clenched her jaw briefly before continuing, "But if it doesn't break soon, I swear I'm going to..." she broke off it a gasp of pain as lightening shot through the air and thunder rolled across the sky.
Logan looked out the open window. It smelled like rain, it just wasn't coming down yet. He turned back at Ororo's small whimper of pain. She was clutching her head between her hands. Lightening lanced the sky again. He looked at, not knowing how to help her. He had always thought that having power over the weather would be a great thing. He had never thought it could have consequences like this.
Thunder rumbled again and Ororo reached for the bourbon. She was about to pour herself a drink when the bottle was taken out of her shaking hands. Logan poured her drink and handed it to her silently. She gave him a weak look of thanks before drinking the shot. She handed him the glass and he poured another one. He didn't know what to do besides give her another drink.
Four drinks later a cool breeze poured through the window, followed closely by the rain. Ororo closed her eyes, smiled, and sighed in relief. Logan's sigh echoed hers. She had really looked pained for a while. He didn't know how to deal with other people's pain. He'd been so long on his own.
Ororo opened her eyes and tried to focus on him, but he seemed to have three heads. She frowned suddenly. That wasn't right. Now, she was no anatomy wizz, but she knew he didn't have three heads.
"'Ro?" he asked, suddenly concerned. She was frowning at him and looking a little fuzzy. "You okay?"
She tried to think about the question, but found she couldn't quite focus. She wondered for a brief passing instant how many drinks she'd had exactly. But when she couldn't remember, she dismissed the thought.
Logan waved his hand in front of her eyes. "Hello? 'Ro?"
She blinked at him. "Wha?"
"I think you're drunk 'Ro," he said, suddenly astonished.
"Emm naoght drunk," she said indignantly as she slid off the counter top. She put her feet down on the floor, but her legs wouldn't hold her.
Logan stared at her as she collapsed into a giggling heap on the floor. He chuckled at her and bent to help her too her feet. He offered her a hand, but she swatted it away.
"I can s-s-sand on mmey own." She mumbled not moving from her position on the floor.
Logan rolled his eyes and lifted her into his arms. She giggled. He shook his head. "I don't believe this. You are drunk. I didn't think you could get drunk," he teased.
"You and everyone else," she said quietly.
He looked down at her, but she was gazing into space. A strange far away look in her eye. She yawned suddenly, curled up in his arms and promptly went to sleep.
"Oh great. Now I have to carry you all the way to the attic," he said in mock exasperation.
"Mmm," she agreed sleepily. "Warm...you smell good," she mumbled before her breathing evened out and she fell completely asleep.
Logan snorted and began his long hike back up her attic room, but he couldn't help but wonder as he walked. He had seen a side of Ororo tonight that he figured few people had seen. It made him wonder even more about what had happened to the beautiful, untouchable, icy weather goddess, that had made her afraid to show herself. He carried her into her room and set her on the bed before taking a good look at the room.
Earthy. The floors were hard wood, with pale green rugs. Her sparse furniture consisted of only a wardrobe, a nightstand, the bed, and one huge bookshelf. There were plants on the floor, but what caught his attention most of all, was the mural that covered the wall opposite her bed. The rest of the walls were painted the same pale green as the rugs, but this wall was done in shades of blue and green. Showing the Earth and sky blending together. A bird, obviously the focus of the picture, rode the wind. A falcon of some kind her guessed. The mural was beautiful.
He gazed back to the sleeping woman in wonderment. There was so much about her that no one knew. He took one last look around the room before he stood. "Night 'Ro," he said softly, determined to learn more about her.
"Night Logan," she murmured, so softly that even with his supernatural hearing he hardly heard her as he shut the door.
So, what do you think? Should I write any more or let it go? Please review!