Disclaimer: I do not own ANY Marvel characters, I just wanna continue to borrow them for a little while longer.
Rating: PG-13 (rated for mild language)
Summary: Jean attempts to change Logan's perception of her.
Author's Note: Once again, I know Logan favours cigars, but he's doing the cigarette thing just for me! For those who don't know, 'Molson' is a Canadian beer company, and 'Body by Jake' is a real infomercial. He refers to his Abs as 'Abba-dabbas'. Sorry, I have no idea why...
The Awakening - Part 2
Jean sat alone in her room, a pen clutched between her teeth, notebooks and papers strewn all about. Music played quietly in the background as she read through an over-sized textbook, occasionally jotting down a blurb in a book she had in her lap. Finally, letting the pen fall from her mouth, she closed both books. Stretching enormously, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. A glance at her bedside clock told her it was later than she'd expected.
Almost 2 am. Another exciting Friday night has passed me by, she thought with a grimace.
Gathering her homework, she dumped it unceremoniously into her school bag. Even though the hour was late and she'd spent the entire day without a moment of rest, she found that she was far from sleepy.
What to do now... she wondered, mentally checking to see who was around.
The Professor - asleep.
Ororo - awake but reading in bed.
Scott and Mr. McCoy were still installing new equipment in the lab.
Kitty, Kurt, Evan, and Rogue were at an all-night movie marathon at the town's ancient drive-in; they wouldn't be home until after breakfast that morning.
The rookies had been asleep for hours.
That just leaves little ol' me, she thought with a sigh.
She glanced around for the book she'd been reading earlier that week but couldn't find it. Deciding that was a good thing, she opened the door to her room and made her way downstairs. She stopped briefly in the kitchen to grab a Diet Coke and then proceeded into the living room.
Not bothering to turn on the light, she flopped onto the couch and felt for the remote on the side table. Turning the tv on, she flipped through the channels while simultaneously using her teke to pop open her soda can. After taking a sip, she tucked her bare legs underneath her and continued to surf through the boring programming that presented itself.
Infomercial, talk show re-run, lame movie, infomercial, infomercial... She sighed again. Caving, she tossed the remote beside her, letting the infomercial for 'Body by Jake' continue.
"...and that's not even the best feature of this body-sculpting doo-hickey, is it Jake?"
"Nooooo way, Janice - who, by the way, ISN'T an actress, but a satisfied customer - this here Ab-tronic Muscle-fyer with added Pec enhancement thingies has soooo many great features, I'd be, heh heh, Hard Pressed to list them all!"
"Tee hee hee! Did you hear that, super-excited studio audience? Hard Pressed! Jake, you're not only buff and sexy, but you're extremely amusing! Tee hee hee..."
((super-excited studio audience claps and cheers and laughs))
"It'd take more than the 50 bucks they pay to get me that excited," Jean mumbled, sipping her soda again. "They probably spike the complimentary orange drink before the show."
Studying the show's host, Jake, she noted his physique with a critical eye.
Firm, but not rock-hard. Defined, but not wholly sculpted. Skin's smooth, not hair-covered like a real man should be...
She closed her eyes a moment, letting an image of Logan stroll through her thoughts. "Mmm- hmm...now that's a man," she whispered, feeling herself flush.
Suddenly, she heard the growl of a motorcycle engine in the driveway and watched as the beam from its lone headlight arced brightly into the room in which she sat.
Logan! She thought excitedly. He wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow morning!
Since their moment in the garden a week ago, she hadn't had any opportunity to be with him alone, and had to settle for crossing his path as often as she could. This was a lucky break.
Sitting up, she took stock of herself. Fresh from her earlier shower, attired in her tiny pink baby doll t-shirt and matching boxer 'jammies, hair slightly damp and gently waving around her face, she knew she presented a fetching sight.
Hearing boot-heels click on the outside walk, she took a deep breath and steeled herself.
Take it easy, Jean, you know what to do, she told herself silently, lightly moistening her lips with her tongue.
Feeling prepared, she waited for the front door to open. When it did, she nearly jumped. She heard him drop his bag on the floor of the marbled foyer, heard him clomping about noisily for a minute before coming into the living room. She could feel the familiar tingle of nervousness and nausea threatening to sweep over her as he approached, but clamped both down firmly.
You're not a little kid anymore! She admonished herself. You're a woman grown - how are you going to make him see that if you don't even see it yourself?
"Hey Red, whatcha doing up so late?" he called softly from behind her, standing in the doorway of the room.
"I was lonely, tv's the only company around tonight," she said, making her voice sound small and a little sad. Turning to look at him, she could only make out his silhouette framed in the hall's light. Silently, she willed him to sit with her, praying he wouldn't just go to bed.
"Looks like lousy company t' me," he observed, watching Jake and his not-an-actress assistant Janice getting tangled up in their workout machine.
Jean smiled at him, knowing he could see her in the backwash of light. "Tell me about it," she said before turning her attention back to the screen.
Her heart beat erratically, waiting to see what he would do next.
He hesitated a moment, then walked away.
"Damn!" she muttered under her breath, surprised when pinpricks of wetness formed in her eyes.
She swiped angrily at the tears before they could fall, disappointed with herself.
You should have done something different, she fumed inwardly, running a hand through her hair.
She stared unseeing at the television for another minute, letting her thoughts tumble about aimlessly before deciding to retire her room. She'd had enough of the overly perky Janice, the obviously drunk studio audience, and the borderline retarded host, Jake.
Logan went to turn off the hall lights.
Standing in the darkness, one hand on the heavy oak banister of the grand staircase, he debated whether or not to go to bed, or to sit with Jean and watch some bad tv.
He was still pumped from the long ride back to the mansion and as such, knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right away. All he'd been able to think about down that last stretch of highway was kicking back with a cold beer and letting himself veg in front of the tube.
Just because Jeannie's around doesn't mean I still can't do that, he told himself, quietly making his way to the kitchen to grab a beer. She'd probably be glad t' have someone to sit up with, he continued in his mind, dropping the twist cap into the garbage.
Walking towards the living room while taking a healthy swig of the foamy brew, he firmly tapped down the sense of expectation he felt building inside him. He knew the feeling was because of Jean, because they were alone, and because, despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her all week.
He wasn't going to let his emotions take control of him this time.
Jean was about to turn off the tv when a hand grabbed for the remote just before she touched it. Jumping back in alarm, she looked up to see Logan clutching it, an open Molson in his other hand.
He smiled at her, amused. "Didn't mean t' scare ya," he said, chuckling. Taking a mouthful of his beer, he sat down on the opposite end of sofa, parking his still-booted feet on top of the coffee table.
Embarrassed at being caught off guard, she glared at him. "You didn't scare me, just startled me, that's all. I thought you'd gone to bed," she said indignantly, reaching for her drink.
He continued to flip aimlessly through the channels before responding. "Don't feel like bed yet," was all he offered, not looking at her.
Jean's hands twisted in her lap, unprepared for what to do next. She'd lived this exact scenario in her mind for months, always appearing confident and knowledgeable during her daydreams. How different she felt now, like the schoolgirl Logan thought her to be.
Pushing such negativity from her mind, she instead uncurled her legs from under her body to let them stretch out beside her, toes almost touching Logan's denim-clad hip.
"What brought you home early?" she asked, thankful that her voice remained steady.
He'd settled on an old western flick, one that she'd never seen before. Men wearing the traditional cowboy garb argued fiercely, brandishing guns at one another.
"Finished what I was doing ahead of schedule," he mumbled, eyes glued to the movie.
"And...what was that?" she asked, once again telepathically checking on the other occupants in the mansion.
Ororo was now sleeping, Scott and Hank had travelled off to their rooms by way of the back stairs a few minutes ago, and everyone else was deep in slumber.
"Sumthin' for Chuck," Logan replied, turning to face her with a wink. "Top secret."
She stared at him earnestly, catching his eyes with her own, watched as his face slowly lost the teasing expression it wore. He broke contact first to return to his movie, gulping down the last of his beer. He looked at the empty bottle suspiciously, as if wondering where all the liquid had disappeared to so quickly.
"Want another one?" Jean asked softly, leaning forward. She could feel her unfettered breasts shift with her movement, straining against the ribbon closure of her shirt. She held out a hand for the bottle.
"Sure," he said, fighting to keep his eyes off the whiteness of her cleavage. His pained look was strangely reassuring.
Taking the bottle from him, she followed the now-dark hallway to the kitchen. She placed the empty on the counter, opened the fridge, and extracted three bottles.
Don't want to be jumping up for new beers every five minutes... said the logical part of her brain.
She handed a bottle to Logan before she sat down, placing the other two beers on nearby coasters. She heard the air escape as he twisted off the cap, watched the shadows play over his features as he drank, and used his inattention to shifta little closer to him, trying to be unobtrusive.
She could smell the leather of his coat, which he still wore, the faint perfume of tobacco that always clung to him, and now, the tang of alcohol. His smell was enough to cause her stomach to knot, warmth flooding to her lower region.
She pretended to be interested in the movie.
"What's this movie about?" she asked, fingers playing with her hair. Gently, lest he suspect, she probed the most outer portion of his thoughts, hoping to slip in a suggestion.
"Good guys fightin' the bad guys," he answered simply, just as she touched on a random thought.
...hair smells so damn good...like summer and rain and warmth... echoed through her head. She held her breath, not daring to hope that he was thinking about her.
Seeking another thought, her mind pushed a little deeper.
...just a child, just a child, a pretty child, Logan, not a grown woman, not yet...
She retracted back into herself, the vehemence of that last thought leaving her shaking. She wanted to hang her head and cry.
He could appreciate howattractive she was, could acknowledge his tentative interest in her, but it would come to nothing, she realized futilely. No matter what she threw at him, he would still see her as 'Jeannie', the twelve-year-old, the kid who pestered him mercilessly when she first arrived at the Institute.
He shifted positions, drawing her attention. She used his movement as another chance to slide closer, this time noting his sidelong glance her way, wary and a little stern.
"I'm cold," she said by way of explanation, shrugging her shoulders.
He reached out a hand and felt her leg as if to feel for himself, causing electricity to shoot from that point of contact. His hand jerked back immediately, as if he, too, felt a shock.
"Should be wearin' more clothes," he grumbled into the neck of his bottle, pointedly looking away from her.
He must have seen her slump at his comment because, to her great delight, he lifted the arm that was closest to her, signalling her to close the gap between them. Numb from excitement, she pulled herself over, trying without much success not to snuggle into him. The comforting weight of his arm draped around her, and she let herself lean into his chest.
Her heart beat like a trapped bird, wanting to be free. She could feel his heart thumping solidly through his flannel shirt, through her own thin nightshirt. She attempted to match his steady rhythm, idly turning back to the television for distraction.
The main character was in deep conversation with a beautiful, bonnet-sporting girl, her hands clutching his. She spouted all sorts of passionate endearments, her eyes overflowed with tears, her bonnet fell off to reveal her dark hair. All the while, her hero looked off into the distance, as if he couldn't trust himself to look at her face and remain strong.
Jean was aware of Logan's cheek near her temple, could feel his breath stir the strands of hair closest to him. She heard his throat work as he downed another gulp of beer. She couldn't help herself as her mind slid back into his with the delicacy of a surgeon. She mouthed a quick thank-you to the Professor for insisting on all the extra practice sessions over the last few months. Without them, she'd be too clumsy to perform with such skill.
Overwhelming feelings of restraint greeted her, surging through his brain, iron barricades that seemed to tremble faintly as if under great pressure. She let a whisper of desire float into his thoughts, saw a red haze cloud her vision as he registered it, adding to the growing feeling kept within the barriers in his mind. Coming back into herself once again, she knew that only a slight push would release all that pent up emotion.
The only question was how to accomplish it.
Logan felt as if he was coming down with a fever. His skin was flushed and overly warm, and his breathing had quickened. He could feel his pulse throbbing all throughout his body, from his fingertips to his toes, and more specifically, in his groin.
It's your own fault, he snarled inwardly. Thinking you could withstand a beautiful, half-dressed student - one you couldn't keep out of your head for the last week. What kind of fucking moron are you?
Angry with himself, he swallowed the last of his beer.
Before he could reach for one of the others, now beaded with condensation, one of them raised up and floated towards him, the cap popping off in mid-air. He snatched it, fighting to ignore her feathery hair tickling under his jaw. He downed more of the amber liquid, focusing totally on the movie.
Just get yourself away from her. Pull yer goddamned arm off'a her shoulders and walk. Nothing would be easier, he argued silently.
But he couldn't bring himself to move. She was so soft and warm, nestled in the crook of his arm like a kitten. Her fragrance aroused him unbelievably; the same smell he'd grown to crave since she'd stumbled upon him during his calming exercises.
"Where are the others?" he asked suddenly, voice tight.
She replied in a dreamy murmur. "Everyone but Kitty, Rogue, Evan, and Kurt are in bed. The other four are at the 'Dusk 'til Dawn' movie marathon that's being held at the drive-in. They won't be home until morning."
He couldn't be sure, but he detected a satisfied tone from her at that last statement.
He grunted and placed his beer bottle on the side table, fishing a cigarette out of his coat pocket with his free hand. Xavier didn't like him smoking in the house, and he usually respected that, but he'd be damned if he didn't need one right then and there.
A thin tendril of smoke was curling above his head when he heard Jean yawn, then felt her head drop to his chest. A hand affixed to his shirt and her legs crowded even closer to his, one of her knees slipping slightly over his thigh. Feeling her breasts rubbing against his torso through the filmy fabric of her night attire redirected all the pounding blood to his pelvis.
Doesn't she know what she's doing to me? He wondered wildly, feeling half crazed with want.
He felt his control slipping further and further away from him...
Jean burrowed into him a little more, affecting a yawn while letting her head rest on his warm chest. She gave a contented sigh and her hand snaked up, positioning itself just below her chin, gripping his shirt. Her legs pressed more firmly against his, as if she was trying to get comfortable. The warmth that had pooled in her midsection became more intense, leaving her wet and aching.
A low growl rumbled from Logan after a minute of her shifting. Curious, she raised her head to look at him, hoping she hadn't irritated him. His face was inches from her own, she could see the faint stubble of hair poking through the skin of his chin. She met his heated gaze unflinchingly, eyes wide.
Her hand absently twisted a button on his shirt.
She heard the hissing of his cigarette as it was dropped into the bottle of unfinished beer at his side.
His eyes roamed agitatedly over her face as if looking for something. She noted that his heartbeat was a little faster, his breathing shallower. His arm tightened around her almost imperceptibly, the leather of his coat making a creaking noise. She tilted her head a touch higher, silently inviting him to do what she knew he wanted to do, what she prayed he wanted to do.
His mouth descended, she felt his hot breath on her own parted lips, could feel her eyes closing in anticipation...
((BAMF!))
A cloud of smoke surrounded them both, the smell of brimstone heavy in the air.
Jean leapt from Logan's arms as if she'd been scalded, coughing and waving her hand around, trying to dispel the acrid fumes.
"Oops! Sorry meins Freundes! I did not expect anyone to be here so late!" Kurt said from behind the sofa before vaulting over it to plop unceremoniously between the two original occupants. "My bad!" he crowed with a laugh.
Jean regarded her teammate with a mixture of anger and shock, noticing Logan rising from his seat to gather his empty bottles.
"Kurt, you nearly gave me a heart attack! Why aren't you at the drive in? Where's everyone else?" she asked.
"Oh, they should be here any second. I decided to jump ahead of them so I could claim the best spot on the couch!" He said, patting the cushion under his rump. "We decided to leave because Kitty was falling asleep, Evan felt sick from eating too much junk food, and Rogue kept complaining that she didn't like any of the movies," he explained. "I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you and - Logan? Didn't I see Logan when I arrived?" His head swivelled around, confused.
Realizing that Logan had left the room, Kurt leaned towards her to whisper conspiratorially, "Why are you hanging out with Mr.Crabby-Pants anyway? Are you being punished for something?"
"No, we were just watching some tv, that's all," she said mildly, belying the extreme disappointment that threatened to suffocate her. She mentally flipped up the room's light switch to banish the ruined atmosphere.
The front door opened amidst hushed giggles, loud 'sshhhs!', and numerous footsteps. Kurt stuck out his tongue and bounced on his cushion while Kitty and Rogue, supporting a rather green-looking Evan between them, came into the now brightly lit room. Jean stood up and made her way around them to the stairs.
"Hey Jean! Aren't you, like, gonna stay an' watch some late night tv with us?" Kitty asked, lowering Evan down onto the other sofa. Rogue sat down next to Kurt and they began to argue over the remote.
Jean turned to her and smiled wanly. "No thanks. I think I've had enough television for one night."
She retreated up the heavily carpeted staircase, wondering where Logan had gone off to.
Voices from the living room floated up to her as she padded softly down the upstairs hall: "Oh! 'Body by Jake'! This is, like, the best infomercial ever!" - "Ja! Leave it here! I want to hear him talk about his 'Abba-dabba's again!" -"Aww, c'mon y'all! We watched him for 3 hours last weekend! Don't none 'a ya appreciate variety?" -"We should try to get in as part of his studio audience if he makes another infomercial!"
Opening the door to her room, Jean paused on the threshold, one hand still gripping the knob. Turning her head to look down to the other end of the hall, her eyes involuntarily sought out where his door would be, shrouded in the blackest of shadows.
If I went to him now, would he...? No, the moment's passed, she thought morosely, stilling the trembling that threatened to overtake her slight frame.
She shut the door behind her and prepared for bed, debating her next move.
Logan waited until he heard the soft click of her door closing before moving from his dark vantage point outside his own room.
Had she come to me, what would I have done? He asked himself, the glittering of his troubled eyes the only light in the gloom.
That thought, coupled with her lingering scent on his skin, kept him awake long into the rest of the night.