Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one - Marvel has control of the X-men unfortunately.
Pairing: Ororo/Logan
Summary: Logan's in need of a little late-night sustenance.
A/N: This is just a fun little vignette into the fantasy world of RoLo - because we all know that Marvel will never let it happen.
Ororo lay sleeping on her left side, the midnight blue satin sheet covering her only to the navel. She flung an arm over to Logan's side of the bed, instinctively searching out the warmth of his body. She woke as her hand met only cool satin; sitting up abruptly, she peered around the room with bleary eyes.
Surely he can't be raiding the kitchen *again* can he? With a sigh, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and into her brocade slippers. As usual, she slept nude, but the cherry wood floors were cold against her feet. She pushed her arms into a matching robe to ward off any lingering chill and made her way down the stairs to the kitchen.
The faint light from the state-of-the-art stainless steel refrigerator and the low growl coming from behind the door told Ororo that her husband was indeed raiding the kitchen. She stopped behind him, her arms crossed over the swell of her belly as her toes tapped out an impatient rhythm on the marble floor. She had no fear of startling him--with his enhanced senses he had no doubt heard her get out of bed.
"Logan, you do realize that it is three o'clock in the morning?"
He wheeled and straightened abruptly, a guilty flush staining his cheeks. The refrigerator door smacked closed behind him, forgotten. "Sorry ta wake ya babe. I just had a taste for. . ."
"I do not want to hear what you have a taste for just now Logan. Doubtless the very idea will be nauseating." Ororo interrupted him, but with a gentle smile that belied her harsh words. "What I do not understand is why you are having odd cravings in the middle of the night. It is I who is enceinte."
Logan's eyes fell to her beautifully curved and swollen abdomen and a comical grin split his face. He stepped forward, covered her hands with his own and nuzzled her neck as he pressed kisses to the soft mocha skin. He inhaled deeply, the faint herbal scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils.
"I love the way you smell 'Ro. If I could just eat you up I'd be a happy man."
Ororo threw her head back and laughed, a rich sound that rolled up from deep inside her.
"As pleasant an activity as that can be, I do not think you would last long from such meager sustenance."
Logan stood up and just looked at her, his eyebrow arched in a disbelieving expression.
"Are you laughing at me woman? Have you forgotten that I'm the Wolverine?"
"Of course not my dear," Ororo said placatingly. She patted him on the forearm and turned to go back upstairs. "Don't forget to turn out the light when you come to bed." She reached the foot of the stairs when she paused and looked back over her shoulder. "And brush your teeth. The sardines on your breath were atrocious last night."
Logan snorted in reply and resumed pawing the contents of the refrigerator. His stomach was growling and he rubbed it absently as he contemplated the scene before him. Fruit salad, extra spicy garlic dill pickles, a container of crème bruleè flavored yogurt and leftover chicken parmesan were gathered up and deposited on the center island, along with a loaf of French bread and a jar of that Thousand Island sandwich spread. He snagged a Molson off the refrigerator door shelf and absently twisted the cap as he grunted in satisfaction with his snack.
