Thanks for the reviews guys! All five of you! As you may have guessed, I'm not planning on updating until I get a review for the last uploaded chapter. Just so I know that someone is reading it. So if you want more, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW. I'm open to suggestions too, I just don't promise that I'll always use them because I have some idea where I want the story to go, just not all of the details. Yet. I'm working on it. I promise. Though once school starts again all bets are off, but I'll see what I can manage between O-Chem sessions.
Another note, my southern accent only gets practice on vacation, so if Rogue's goes in and out please forgive me.
And Equus, thanks so much for reviewing, and leaving such a nice long one too. : D
* * * * * *
Logan tried to sniff appreciatively at the smell of hamburgers flowing down the street. Reagan was taking him to the best hamburger joint in town for putting up with her conniving mother and neighbors for the past few days. He tried to smell the hamburgers, try being the key word, because Reagan was wearing an absolute cloud of hyacinth perfume. He sneezed. Reagan was a definite mystery. He'd never seen her so dressed up in the few months he had known her. She was much more of a casual type of woman, but not today. Today she wore a knee length skirt, sweater and clumpy sandals. The noise was getting on his nerves, but he had to admit she looked good in that skirt. It he didn't know better, he's have thought she was dressing up for him. If she didn't hate his guts.
Reagan was pointing out Pikes Peak to him when they unceremoniously ran into someone. Logan put out his hand to steady her when the man they had run into started speaking.
"Reagan? Reagan Grey? It is you! Hey!" He exclaimed, grabbing Reagan around the waist and pulling her to his side, "Get your hands off of my girl!"
Logan stepped back, surprised. This was the second time that someone had warned him to stay away from one of the Grey girls. And this time he hadn't even been asking for it.
Reagan removed the guy's arm from around her waist and turned to face him. Her expression was icy. "Jerry. I should have known. There's a few things you seem to have forgotten in the last few years since we've seen each other. First, I'm not your anything. Not your friend, your acquaintance and especially NOT your girl. Nor will I ever be. Second, Logan wasn't doing anything wrong. He was making sure that I didn't fall down after you so rudely ran into us. Just -- leave me alone! And you," Reagan pointed her finger at Logan, "You're on my list too. You can find your own way home. I'm leaving." Reagan through her hands up in the air and stalked off, sandals clumping all the way and leaving a small cloud of perfume in her wake.
Had she realized, Reagan would have been even more upset. That morning, with very little urging from her mother, she had gotten up early and taken special pains with her appearance, going so far as to put a skirt -- an unheard of phenomenon -- curled and sprayed her hair and put on a small bottle's worth of perfume. If Logan had noticed he didn't say anything. Stomping into the house, Reagan threw the screen door open, narrowly missing her mother and headed full steam to her room. Mrs. Grey came hurrying after her and questioned her through the closed door.
"He didn't notice?" She asked.
"Notice?" Came the muffled reply, "Not only did he not notice, we ran into Jerry. Remember him? He's just as grabby as before. I felt like zapping them both. It would have been awfully satisfying. Uuuggh. I'm getting a shower. And I'm never leaving this room again. I'm so embarrassed!" Her mother smiled and headed back to the kitchen intent on what snacks she the occasion called for. There was always some comfort in food.
After her shower Reagan felt a little better. She braided her hair into pigtails, put on her oldest and most comfortable clothes, and contemplated painting her toenails as a sort of therapy, but decided that the one she already had in mind would be more effective. Dumping the contents of the tiny purse she had carried earlier on to the bed, she picked out what she needed and dumped it all into what she called her "parachuting behind enemy lines purse," so named for her belief that she could pack anything she could possibly need for said occasion into it.
As she walked out of the house her mother handed her a sack without even looking as she continued chopping vegetables for dinner. The whole exchange took place in silence with the experience of a well-practiced maneuver.
Reagan's destination was to her favorite stress reliever, The Corner Store, a bookshop just a few blocks away. She spent so much time there that the staff kept a coffee cup with her name on it for her use. She sighed as she walked through the door. Just being there among the books already had her feeling calmer; gazing at multi colored book binding as far as the eye could see.
Three hours, two cups of hot chocolate and five new purchases later Logan found her sitting Indian style in the Sci-Fi section, browsing among the sizeable Star Wars collection. She was shelving some books and deep in conversation with a man. Logan hoped ferverently that this one wouldn't tell him to stay away from Reagan too though it was possible. The guy was practically drooling on her.
"Hey." He said. Reagan jumped and flushed. She was still angry, but not so much at him. Mostly at herself for allowing the flush of pleasure at seeing him again.
"Hi." She said tightly.
"Your mom sent me."
"Well gee, that's a surprise." Reagan mumbled.
"She has dinner ready and she won't let me eat until you come back."
"So that's why you came looking for me, you were hungry. Alright," she sighed. "Ill come when I'm finished shelving these."
"Whose yer friend?"
"Oh, sorry. Logan, Terry. Terry, Logan." She introduced them. "Now shoo both of you so we can get home before Mom's dinner gets cold."
Both men backed out of the aisle. Logan threw his arm around Terry's shoulder and squeezed. Hard. Terry looked at him in surprise and started to go down under the weight of Logan's arm. "Stay away from my girl will you?" Logan asked.
Terry nodded quickly and skittered away. Reagan joined Logan shortly there after in the aisle. "Where's Terry go?" She asked. "I was going to tell him good bye."
"Guess I scared the little weasel off."
"Good." Reagan grimaced. "He is a weasel." She looked surprised that the two of them had actually come to agreement on something. "Let's go home. I have a feeling Mom made all of your favorites."
* * * * * *
"Are we there yet?" Ryan asked for the umpteenth time in the last hour. It had only taken he and his mother a day to decide that it would be in his best interest to go to the Institute, and he was ensconced in the backseat of the van, surrounded by bags and boxes of his and Reagan's things.
"No. We are not there yet. What's with you anyway Ryan? I thought kids out grew out of 'Are we there yet' when they were about ten. You can read a map, you tell me how close we are." Regan said, shortly. She was beginning to remember why she and Susie had tried to loose him so much when they were kids.
"Are you kidding? My generation has a notoriously short attention span. That's why we're the 'now' generation." Ryan replied smugly.
"Oh, please. We're all the same generation. I'm only twenty-five for heaven's sake. And Logan is-- well Logan may not be the same generation as us. How old are you anyway Logan? You don't look a day over thirty."
Logan shot her an odd look. "I don't know. I could be over a hundred for all I know. I don't feel any older than thirty. Don't look it either, so I must be thirty." Reagan decided that this was not going to turn into a conversation or even a decent argument and let the subject drop.
"Are we --"
"You ask one more time kid, and you can walk the rest of the way to the Institute." Logan growled.
"Don't you have a gameboy or something like that to occupy yourself? How about a book?" Reagan asked.
"Nope. I get carsick if I read or play a game. And I left my gameboy at home anyway. I forgot it." He frowned.
"Well, we can write to your mom and she can send it to the Institute for you later. "Here," She handed him her personal CD player. "Listen to this for a while."
"What is it?" He asked, suspicious.
"Newsboys. Now hush and listen."
The CD kept Ryan mercifully quiet for most of an hour and by then they had nearly reached the Institute. They started pointing out places of interest on the grounds of the mansion and told him some of the backgrounds of the students who that were milling around the grounds.
"There's Rogue." Reagan pointed.
Logan honked the horn and Rogue came running up to the van.
"You're back!" She cried. "I knew y'all would be back today. Stop Logan and let me in, ah want to hear everthin' y'all did and what you saw. Oh, hello! You must be Ryan." She shook his hand shyly.
Rogue was better at explaining who everyone was because out of those in the car she was by far the senior resident at the Institute. She explained what classes were like, sleeping arrangements and pointers on how not to lie to Professor X. After all, he could read minds and find out the truth anyway. They talked about powers and how it felt to finally be around others that were experiencing the same weird changes.
Logan explained that the whole trip had been uneventful except when they found the leaking hose, but it had been easily fixed, and nothing else unusual happened. Reagan noticed that he didn't mention her killing the van almost before they got started. She spoke excitedly about visiting her family. Logan complained about all the stuff she made him haul to the van, making a big ta -do about bringing a computer and wall hangings and enough CD's for an army.
Reagan sniffed. "The professor wants me to teach some dance and stretching classes. How could I possibly do that if I don't have the right music?"
Logan looked back at Ryan and the two rolled their eyes at the mention of "dance classes," but Rogue seemed to think it was a great idea. "Just think of how much better we'll be able to fight if we're all more limber. You could take it too Logan. Remember when you were fighting Mystique and she almost beat you because she was so much more limber? It's the same way when you and Reagan practice, or really... you and anyone. It might be good for you Logan. You're fast and strong, but Reagan's classes should help a lot. Besides," she poked him in the shoulder; "you'll get to spend more time with Regan that way."
He grunted a negative response. "I'm not going to take some sissy ballet class for anyone." He mumbled.
"What was that Logan?" Reagan asked brightly. "You've always wanted to take ballet but never had the courage? I really wasn't planning on teaching ballet, I'm not really big on it myself, but since you're so enthusiastic I may be able to give you some private lessons if you ask nicely."
Logan reddened and there were loud snickers from the vicinity of the back seat. This conversation was getting way too out of control from his way of thinking.
"Sorry Logan," Reagan replied sounding none too repentant. "I wasn't planning on teaching much dance anyway, mostly just stretching and acro. We could all do with some more of those. I'm sure you're really a very limber man anyway. Half the men I know can hardly touch their toes, so obviously you're way ahead of them. Besides you might not have any choice. Professor X said he was thinking of making my classes mandatory for all of the students --"
"I'm not a student," Logan interrupted.
"-- And for the senior X-men as well. You didn't let me finish."
Logan grumbled some more but was saved from any further torment because they had reached the Institute.