When Ororo entered the recreation room, she cringed at seeing Jean and Scott playfully laughing and pinching each another on the couch. The couple was usually quiet in their affections for one another, and seeing such a display brought a hot rush to Ororo's cheeks. She quietly spun on her heel and was halfway to the door when Jean saw her.

"Hold on, 'Ro! Wait--!" The redhead jumped from Scott's side as if poked with a cattle prod and waved a small box in the air. Her face was flushed pink from laughing too hard as she pressed the box into Ororo's curious hands. "Omigod, 'Ro," she said. "You absolutely have to see this movie we rented."

"Is it that funny?"

"It's not funny at all," Scott shot over his shoulder. "Lots of overdone action, too many implausible scenes, and c'mon, Travolta? He's gotta be the most overrated--"

"Ignore Mr. Skeptic," Jean interrupted. "I loved the movie. And I bet you will, too."

The bright look on Jean's face, like some kind of crazed zealot intent on converting the world to a strange cult, sent a chill down Ororo's spine. She stared at the slim case with more than a little skepticism and looked to Scott for support, but he wore an equally puzzling smirk. It scared her. It looked as if the two of them had been conspiring against her.

"You'll like this movie, 'Ro," Jean pressed. "Trust me."

"I usually am not a big fan of action movies, Jean," Ororo said slowly. She turned the cover over and read the title: Swordfish. What an odd name. She started handing the case back to Jean, but Jean refused to take it. "We live the action films, after all. Why must I see Hollywood imitate what we do naturally?"

Scott cleared his throat. "Don't mind her, 'Ro. We have a bet going." He stared at his fiancée somewhat imperiously. "And I think she's dead wrong."

"Smart-aleck," Jean said, pushing the case back in Ororo's hands. "I see a strong resemblance. Go ahead, 'Ro. See the movie. See if I'm right."

"He looks it more than she does," Scott muttered. "And you can't force 'Ro to choose. That's part of the bet."

"You're just afraid of being wrong. Besides it's 'Ro all over--absolutely her. The other guy? Not so much. He is cute, though."

Scott snorted. "Figures."

Ororo finally sighed, exasperated. "What are you two talking about? What am I supposed to choose?"

Again, Jean giggled, and it took every ounce of power Ororo had to not to shake the woman. "Can't tell you. But, to make it fair," she glared at Scott, "we're going to go shopping for a few hours and let you watch it in peace."

"Oh, joy. Shopping."

"At the electronics' store," she amended, and Scott beamed through their mindlink. "You just make sure you watch that movie, Ororo. I want a full report when I return."

Ororo grimaced. "You're sounding more and more like Scott everyday."

"Hey!"

She smiled at their twin outbursts, believing they both deserved it for not being honest with her. "You really want me to see this movie that badly?"

"Yep," Jean said. "And Logan, but that's mostly for Scott's benefit. He thinks it'll help him win our bet."

Scott got up from the couch and wrapped an arm around his fiancée's shoulder. "You know how Jean is, 'Ro. Once she has an idea in her head she's like a pit bull with a bone."

Scott's lips covered Jean's retort, which brought a small smile to Ororo's face. Well, in the interest of science, she supposed she could help them out, but she had one card left to play.

"When does this movie need to go back to the video store? I could see it later in the week, and--"

Jean held up her hand. "Nothing doing. We'd take it back, You'd conveniently 'forget,' and no one would win. It's now or never, and never's not an option."

"Wonderful." She had the sinking feeling that Jean was going to get her way no matter what, when Logan conveniently tromped into the room carrying a six pack of beer and a bowl of popcorn. He went to the television, propped his feet on the coffee table, and proceeded to stab the remote for a boring, marathonic sports event.

A small, victorious grin pinked Ororo's lips. "Ah. But Logan has the television, now, and it is the only room in the house where I could view the DVD. Sorry," she said, handing the movie back to Jean. She shoved Jean's shoulder a bit, hoping both she and Scott would leave before either thought about moving the DVD player to another television set.

But a cold lump formed in the pit of Ororo's stomach when Jean started smiling that zealot's grin. "Logan?"

The man grunted and stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. "Yeah? What?"

"You watching anything interesting on TV right now?"

"Nope. Just wastin' time 'til the fight starts. Crap's on until then."

Jean focused on Ororo as her grin widened. "How'd you like to see a movie with 'Ro?"

He shrugged. "Sure, I guess. As long as it's over before the fight."

Ororo groaned as Jean ran the disc to the DVD player. "It's called Swordfish, and you have to tell me if one of the characters looks familiar to you."

"Jean," Scott warned. "Two can play at that game. 'Ro, do the same for me."

"But what am I looking for? You two are impossible!"

"You'll see," Jean said. She dragged Scott out of the room and gestured between the player and Ororo. "Hurry up, sit down! It's starting!"

Ororo made a strangled noise in the back of her throat and stared at the empty spot next to Logan.

"C'mon, darlin'," he muttered, patting the cushion. He smiled at her, but it looked like a feral snarl. "Might as well get it over with. Popcorn?"

"Why not." She resigned herself to the couch and grabbed a fistful of popcorn, hoping that this wouldn't become three of the most wasted hours of her life.

* * *

Snicker.

Logan shifted on the couch, trying to understand 'Ro's small smiles during the first ten minutes of the movie. The Travolta dialogue was pretty decent--at least the movie wasn't some screwed up romance--and that whole scene with the camera tricks and the explosion was enough to keep him hooked. But he didn't get what 'Ro thought was so funny about it. Geez, he sure hoped she wasn't laughing 'cause that chick went boom. He didn't think she'd be that cold.

When 'Ro stifled another giggle behind her hand, he couldn't take it anymore. "What? What the hell's so funny?"

Ororo rested her forefinger above her lip as if preventing a sneeze, but Logan knew she was really trying to hold back her laughter. "Goddess, Logan. I see what Jean meant."

"Huh? What're you talking about?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown an extra arm. "You don't see it--? You really don't, do you?"

He growled at her. "I ain't in the mood for games, 'Ro."

"Look at the main character, Logan." She hit the pause button on the remote and raised an eyebrow. "Now. Who does he look like?"

Logan ran a hand through his thick hair and made a face. "I dunno--that guy off that movie, 'Pulp Fiction'?"

"No, not him. The other one."

"What, the geeky punk with the spiky hair?" Ororo nodded and bit her bottom lip. Logan got frustrated at the amusement in her eyes. "He's a nerd. Whose he supposed ta look like, One-Eye?"

Ororo shook her head as her body trembled with laughter. "Try you."

"What?" Logan sprang from the couch and squinted at the TV screen. He got so close that his nose skimmed the monitor, and he pointed an accusatory finger at the character. "No way! I don't look anything like that guy."

"Well, he doesn't have long hair or sideburns, and he doesn't have a perpetual snarl--"

"Hah, hah. Very funny."

"--but other than that," she giggled again, "you could be his twin."

"Give it a rest, 'Ro," he grumbled, plopping back in his seat. "The day I look like that guy is the day Sabretooth comes back to life."

"Time to pencil Mr. Kittylitter on your calendar."

Logan snorted. "Just hit play, Ororo. Let's get this movie over so Jean can win her damn bet."

"As you wish...Stanley."

"Don't call me that!"

* * *

A few minutes later, Ororo got the shock of her life when Logan--old sourpuss himself--held his sides and let out the loudest laugh she'd ever heard.

"What on earth--?"

Logan couldn't get the words out. He caught his breath, glanced at Ororo from the corner of his eye, and roared again.

"What?"

"Hell, no. This is too good. And you're blind as a bat!"

"Logan!" She stabbed the pause button again and the actress on the screen paused her golf club in mid-swing. "What are you talking about?"

"'Ro, darlin', Jean wasn't talkin' about me." He waved his hands about in a mystical way. "Voila. Watch, and be amazed."

Logan approached the television and outlined the paused actress' head with his pinky, explaining his discovery like a college lecturer. "Imagine this babe with white hair, say, down to her shoulders. Then give 'er a little queenie attitude...and a lightning grip..." A grin split his face as he stood, victorious. He grabbed a beer, tossed it 360 degrees in the air, and caught it in the same hand. "I'd say she's a dead ringer for ya, 'Ro."

Ororo scrambled to the television, horrified. "That wanton tart? You think she looks like me?"

"Yep," Logan said, falling back into the couch. His feral grin widened as he sucked half his beer in one gulp. "And whatever she's wantin', I'm wantin', too."

"Logan!"

"Can't blame her for bein' cute. And hot. You got anything like that in yer closet, 'Ro--? Wanna go down ta 'Fredericks' after the movie?"

"Honestly!" She was angry enough to leave the room, but she would not give him the satisfaction of besting her. "All right, fine. You don't look like Stanley, and I," she wrinkled her nose, "I do not look like her."

"Whatever ya say, 'Ro," Logan said, finishing his beer. "But you gotta admit, she's hot. I'd take it as a compliment."

She stuck her hands on her hips. "Well, would you take it as a compliment if I said I thought Stanley had delicious abs and a delectable waist?"

Logan's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. You think I've got delicious abs?"

Ororo almost screamed. "Not you! Stanley!"

"But, if you think I look like Stanley--"

"Aaargh--!"

Ororo did stomp off this time, and Logan stopped laughing long enough to pop another beer and grab the remote. 'Ro was in one holy hell of a mood now, and the banging pots and pans in the kitchen testified to it, but he couldn't resist tossing a final insult over his shoulder. "Can't run with the big dogs, can ya, 'Ro? Think about that next time ya try teasin' me. Or at least have the decency ta wear fewer clothes."

Thunder echoed through the halls.

Logan snipped his beer, chuckling. "And that, my friend, is how ya tame a goddess."

Definitely TBC. You really don't think 'Ro'd let him have the last word, do you?