Disclaimer: Resentfully I accept that I do not now, nor am I ever likely to, own these Characters. Marvel does. Life's a bitch.
The Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Ororo stood overlooking the rather large lake behind the Charles' Xavier's Institute, a soft breeze lifting stray strands of her platinum hair causing them to dance lightly in the breeze. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was just beginning its ascension over the horizon, the sky a breathtaking blend of bright blues tinted with orange, in addition to the scent of early morning dew still clinging in the air it made for a perfect beginning to the day. Ororo inhaled deeply, savoring every sensation, running her fingertips across the dampened grass, feeling blessed to be able to do so. It had been two days since her death and resurrection and she was grateful for this morning. For every morning to come. She planned on milking each day to the fullest. 'Live like it's your last,' her dear friend Yuiko always said. "I intend to, my friend. I intend to." Her laughter echoed off the lake, a joyous sound that caused the scowling man closing in on her from behind to pause.
Logan stopped a few feet away from where Ororo stood, his heart attempting to return to its normal rhythm. He had awoken only minutes ago, having fallen asleep in the beige and green overstuffed chair that had become his second home since 'Ro's accident, only to find the bed where she was supposed to be laying empty. His heart had damn near busted through his adamantium laced ribcage. He looked for her throughout the entire building before deciding that there was really only one place 'Ro would wander off to in the hours just before dawn. He had leapt from one of the school's second story windows and loped across the wide expanse of yard, heading for the thick forest in the rear, his heart still hammering away.
Now he found her, standing at the edge of the lake, water lapping at her bare feet, her head thrown back laughing into the wind. It was a sight so welcome and breathtaking he refused to move, lest she vanish before his eyes, a dream that never was, instead of a flesh and blood woman.
"Hello, Logan." Ororo's voice was welcoming. She hadn't turned around to greet him, but she instinctively knew he was there, moving towards her with that deceptively lazy and arrogant swagger of his.
"You should be in bed." His voice was a gruff command, but she heard the worried tenderness beneath.
She gave him a look over her shoulder. "I have spent far too much time in bed of late, Logan. I must confess I find it exceedingly boring."
"Here." He wrapped his beaten brown leather coat around her shoulders. She opened her mouth to remind him that she never got cold, but refrained, enjoying the warmth and scent of him that lingered in the threads of the well worn garment. She simply smiled in thanks, blue eyes twinkling.
Logan scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling uncertain. She had a way about her, looking at him like she could see right through him, down into his very soul. In fact the first thing he had ever noticed about 'Ro were her eyes. The rest of her was gorgeous as hell, too, you'd have to be dead and buried not to notice those long shapely legs, curvy hips that swayed just-so when she walked, firm backside and a pair of the most perfect breasts he'd ever seen. But it was her eyes that captivated you and held you; so bold and beautiful, shades of the sky, always shifting always changing. Whenever she was serious they were deep cerulean blue and when she laughed the shades swirled, becoming the color of a warm afternoon's sky and still other times, when she was well and truly pissed, they turned into hard, cold blue chips of ice. Her eyes had initially caught his attention, but it was her indelible spirit, her iron will and faith in all that was good in the world…all the good she saw in him, that captured his heart.
Without speaking Ororo stepped towards him until they were separated by only their clothing and the early morning fog rolling in from the lake. "'Ro…" Logan cradled her face in his large hands. Hands that had killed countless people, done ruthless things, things he couldn't remember and some things he would never forget. Buried beneath the rugged knuckles lay razor sharp blades, capable of slicing a man in half, covered in so much blood that suddenly he felt unworthy to touch her. As if sensing his withdrawal Ororo placed her hands on his wrists keeping him locked to her. His breath rushed past his lips, as she breathed, "I came back for you."
Their mouths came together hungrily, drawn together by the primal force of their passion, no longer to be denied. With a growl Logan pulled her closer to him, tangling his fingers deep into the silken mass of her hair, groaning as she twined her arms around his neck, giving herself up to his devouring lips. He pulled back slightly, his mouth still brushing her damp, swollen lips. "I've dreamt of this," he confessed softly.
"I take that to mean had I not come back, you would have missed me."
"No." He said, tilting her head so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "I would've followed ya, 'Ro. Ta hell and back if need be, " his gaze was intense.
"Logan-" Ororo's hand reached out, long slender fingers caressing the stubble of his jaw, her eyes deepening to a shade he had never seen before. She was just too tempting. Logan molded his lips to hers once more, teeth nipping against her full bottom lip, eliciting a delicious moan from her. Her fingers pushed through the ebony thickness of his hair, pulling gently. He grunted his approval, tasting her mouth more deeply, his tongue sliding past her lips.
"'Ro," he murmured into her mouth.
"Hmm?" her velvety reply.
"Wanna put us back on the ground?"
"Oh, my- I am so sorry." Ororo felt heat flooding her face as she realized they were floating several feet in the air. Gently she lowered herself and Logan back to the ground. "I got so carried away."
Logan decided he liked this side of Storm, her blush was an unexpected surprise and pleasure. Sometimes she was so intimidating and authoritative a person could forget she was a woman. He liked the idea of reminding her. Frequently.
"You and me both, darlin'." He put his arm around her waist, leading her back towards the mansion. "As much as I'm enjoying myself, you really do need t' getchyer butt back ta bed."
Ororo rolled her eyes. "You worry too much."
"Well, that's one I've never been accused of before."
They walked back to the Institute in companionable silence, both minds reliving the intense kiss shared by the lake. Ororo wondering if he had kissed her out of relief that she was alive? Out of friendship? Logan wondering if he had pushed too fast? Too soon?
Too soon, hell, bub, ya were almost too late! His mind bellowed. He surprised Storm when he suddenly stopped walking, effectively halting her as well.
"Lo-? Mmmm." He slid his hands down her waist, cradling her hips, kissing her again for all he was worth. When they broke apart, both were shaking, trying to catch their breathes.
"I want ya Ororo Munroe, want ya more than I've ever wanted anybody. Anybody." he emphasized. " And I'm willin' to wait fer ya to accept that, or tell me t' go fuck myself, but know that I ain't going anywhere 'til you tell me too. We clear."
Ororo was silent for a instant, causing him a moment of anxiety. "Funny. That is almost exactly what I was going to say to you," she said at last. Logan grinned so wide the dimples in his cheeks showed.
"Were ya now?"
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Most definitely." She started to sag against him.
"'Ro?"
"Sorry. Not as strong as I thought I was. No I told you so's please," she said with a smile.
Logan said nothing, simply placed his arm under her legs and lifted her against him. When she began to protest he hushed her with a kiss, telling her in his most menacing growl to shut up.
Once they arrived at her attic loft Logan slipped his jacket from her shoulders, tossing it onto the beige and green chair he had vacated less than thirty minutes ago. Ororo began to shrug out of the white robe she had slipped on for her early morning meeting with the dawn, pausing to look at Logan with uncertainty. She had never been overly modest about her body, nor was she one to flaunt her nakedness in front of others. But now in front of this man she found herself worried about any scars Sabertooth's attack may have made on her flesh. She had not bothered to examine herself earlier, never having been a vain woman and never really caring what others thought of her. But suddenly, she wanted to be beautiful- for him. She didn't know what to do.
Logan sensed her unease and it drew him to her. Without a word his rough fingertips skimmed her flawless face, traveled down her arms, wrapped around the knot at her waist and with a deft pull, unknotted her belt, the sides of her robe falling open, revealing everything to his hungry gaze. She closed her eyes, turning away, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Her eyes flew open when she felt his lips at her chin, licking the salty essence from her, his hands pushing the robe completely off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor.
"Beautiful," his voice was sinfully dark and husky. With exquisite tenderness he traced the lines of the faint scar she bore directly over her heart, its shape reminding him of a bolt of lightening. He knew she wouldn't bear the mark long, because like him Ororo's mutant genes made it near impossible for her to scar permanently, but it served as a reminder for him. A reminder of how very close he came to never having a moment like this with her. Logan kissed her suddenly- hard and long, his hands pressing her against him as closely as possible. He needed her, needed to taste her, needed to hold her, needed to be held, and he needed to know she was his.
"Let's tuck you in." He broke away, guiding her to the bed. He pulled back the covers and settled her on them. "Comfy?"
Ororo nodded, not trusting her voice after a kiss like that. "Good," he said. Logan pulled his boots off, removed his shirt and jeans until he stood before her clad in only a pair of smiley face boxers. She raised one winged eyebrow.
"Don't ask." He grumbled. "They were a gift from Jubilee."
"Oh."
"Was that a giggle, darlin'? So help me--" he said in mock threat. He slid under the soft white comforter, pulling her into his warm embrace. She rested her head on his chest, long legs twined with his, her hand resting over the steady drum of his heart.
"I really should tell the Professor--"
"Sleep now," Logan interrupted. "there'll be time for the other stuff later." His hand caressed the swirls of her ear. Ororo let out a content sigh, fully asleep in moments. Logan breathed in her welcome scent, letting himself enjoy the feel of her naked flesh against his and for the first time that he could remember he felt utterly at peace. "Sleep well, babe. I'll be here when ya wake up. Always." He pressed his lips to her hair, eyes falling shut, a smile on his face and the woman he loved in his arms. He didn't deserve it, but he'd take it, and heaven help anyone who tried to take her away from him again
Later
Ororo jerked awake, breathing labored, hair damp with sweat.
"Easy, darlin'. I gotchya… easy." Wolverine's graveled voice rumbled beneath her ear, his hands soothing her tangled hair, his lips whispering against her temple. In response she buried her face into his muscled chest, hiding her tear-filled eyes, struggling to return her breathing to normal. She had been dreaming, if you could call it that. Dreaming of being chased by cloaked figures, darkness and cold swirling all around her. She was searching for someone, someone she loved. The dark demons were trying to take them away from her and no matter how fast she had tried to run her legs had been molasses, unable to move. Then she had seen Remy, laughing with her, warming her heart, her dearest friend, her brother and only confidant. He was smiling at her, dark eyes alight with mischief and merriment, so close she could almost touch him, then just before she could reach him a dark figure enveloped him, stealing him away from her, leaving her bereft in his absence.
"Logan." So strong, so bold. Her fearless friend, her protector, her deepest love and truest heart. She clutched his hair in her hands, her body trembling with repressed emotions.
"Let it out," he whispered, hands stroking the smooth skin of her back. "It's all right, baby, let it out."
With a clap of thunder violent enough to shake the Institute to its rocky foundation Ororo Munroe screamed her rage and hurt, her sadness and broken heart. Her shoulder's shook with the terrible sobs wracking her slender frame, her voice ragged and broken as she cried and cried and cried. Wind howled, clouds swirled, branches slammed against the windows and great fat drops of silver rain fell.
Through the tempest Logan held her, murmuring soft meaningless sounds of comfort against her hair, his hands never ceasing their soothing rhythm along her back and shoulders. He held her until her sobs slowed to hiccups and sniffles, he held her as the rain slowly receded, murmuring softly all the while. They stayed that way for a long time, her face pressed tightly against his chest, his arms circling her waist, holding her as though he'd never let her go; they stayed like that until there was nothing but the sound of her deep breaths against his tearstained skin.
"Thank you." she whispered. Logan said nothing, there was no need. Storm yawned once, already falling back to sleep, fingers still clutched in his midnight hair. He wiped the back of his hand across his damp eyes, cursing the good fer nothing' cajun, that caused her so much heartache, and cursing himself for not being able to protect her from it.
Afternoon
"How many more tests ya gonna run on her?"
Hank McCoy, lovingly referred to as Beast by his fellow X-Men, refrained from answering the grumbling mutant beside him. He instead busied himself, drawing a syringe of blood from Ororo's outstretched arm. It was early afternoon and they had been deep beneath the Mansion in the med-lab for the past several hours. Hank blotted Ororo's pinprick with a cotton swab before applying a Spiderman band aid. She grinned at him.
"Logan, relax. I feel fine." Ororo said, turning to him with a reproachful look. She rolled down the sleeve of her lavender blouse, a color Logan had always admired on her.
"Yeah, well as far as I'm concerned ya should still be resting."
"Goddess, Logan, if you had your way I would never leave the bed."
He gave her a wicked smile. "Got that right, darlin'."
Storm blushed profusely, looking at her feet. Hank cleared his throat. "We should have these results back in the morning and Jean should be down any moment with the results of your MRI and CAT scans." Hank couldn't keep his grin contained. "It is good to have you back, dear Storm," he said giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"I wholeheartedly concur." With a hiss the double doors slid open allowing for Charles Xavier and Jean Grey to enter the room. Both were dressed in white lab coats. "I must confess, child, you certainly know how to scare decades off a man." Xavier reached for her hand, squeezing fondly.
"Charles." Ororo bounced off the table she had been sitting on, much to the consternation of Wolverine, and hugged her mentor.
"Take it easy, will ya, 'Ro." Logan said, a dark frown on his face.
"Honestly, Logan, you can relax. I am quite all right I assure you."
"Well, make this old man feel better and take a seat wouldya." He pushed a rolling stool towards her. She pushed it right back.
"Ro." He rumbled. She gave him a disgruntled look, but sat down on the stool when he offered it to her again. As if fearing she would jump up and do a jig Logan kept his hands placed firmly on her shoulders, but she didn't mind. In fact, she let herself lean into him, until her back was pressed against his center, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body as it seeped into her. Absently he stroked his thumb along her collar bone.
If anyone in the room thought the interaction between Storm and Wolverine odd they kept it to themselves. Hank raised a questioning eyebrow towards Jean, who merely smiled, pulling out two floppy pieces of film, lining them up against the projection screen. A frown began to form on her face. "Professor?"
"Yes Jean?"
"Have you seen this?"
Logan immediately tensed at the note of concern he detected in Jean's voice. "What is it? What's wrong?" he demanded.
Charles studied the films in front of him, then turned to the computer on his right, fingers rapidly punching keys.
"Would one of ya tell us what's goin' on." No response from Jean or Xavier, both studying whatever was flashing on the computer screen intently.
"Charles?" Ororo questioned.
Xavier swiveled his chair around so that he was between her and the projection screen. "Nothing is wrong, per se." he began. He rolled closer to her, staring at her in a curious manner. He pulled out a penlight, flashing into her eyes in rapid succession. Seemingly satisfied with the results, he turned to Jean. "Place the images on main view please, Dr. Grey."
Jean did as told, dimming the lights in the room and taking a seat besides Ororo. "See these areas in red over here." Xavier asked, pointing to one of the films with a laser pointer, highlighting an area Storm's brain image that was spotted with red and yellow.
When everyone nodded, he directed their attention to the other film. "This Magnetic Resonance Imaging picture was done two years ago as part of your standard physical, Ororo. Notice the difference?"
Ororo looked from one to the other, realizing that the area that was bright red and yellow in her current picture was a deep purple color in the previous image. "What does it mean?" she asked.
"I am not entirely certain. This area of the brain is a type of subconscious, a normally dormant part of the brain that is rarely, if ever, active." Xavier explained. "This new activity does not necessarily mean anything, as of yet I can only determine this as an anomaly, nothing serious. We'll run a few more tests in a couple of days, but until then I would rather you refrain from active duty."
"But Charles-"
"You heard the man 'Ro. No active duty."
"You'll be back in the field before you know it," Jean said. "Take some time to recuperate, and relax. You've been through enough."
Ororo said nothing, but beneath his hands Logan felt her shoulder's stiffen. She was a proud woman, and wasn't gonna take kindly to being benched. But in his mind it was for the best. She was still recovering physically from her ordeal, not to mention the emotional toll this had all taken on her. Rest and relaxation were the best things for her, and he'd make damn sure that she got plenty of both.
"We're all set here, Ororo. I will let you know how your blood work comes out." Hank said, closing the manila folder that was her X-Men medical file. "Until then I suggest you go and enjoy the day well it's still enjoyable. By chance, did anyone else catch that freak thunderstorm early this morning?"
"Nope." Wolverine looked pointedly at Hank. "Can't say that we did." He helped Ororo to her feet. "Hungry, darlin'?"
"Famished. Race you to the kitchen," she suggested.
"Don't think so. We'll walk up together, nice and slow. Yer gonna take it easy if I have at watch ev'ry move ya make."
"You are a real pain in the a-"
"'Ro-" a warning.
"As you wish." She smiled cheekily at him. He swatted her backside as they exited the med-lab.
Once they were in the kitchen Logan began preparing his famous triple decker southwestern sandwich. They kept an easy conversation between them, each washing and slicing the various peppers needed for his salsa topping. As the spicy scent of Habanera reached her Ororo gasped, saying "I think that just may kill me."
"Naw. Put's hair on yer chest."
She looked at him, eyebrows quirked.
"Storm!" Kathrine "Kitty" Pryde phazed through the kitchen's swinging doors, her face alight, heading straight for Ororo.
"Hello, Kitten." She gave the young woman a welcoming smile, eyes glowing. She grunted as Kitty flung her arms about her zealously.
"Easy, Kitty." Wolverine admonished.
He was pretty close to Kitty and knew she was even closer to 'Ro. When the students had been informed of Storm's condition Kitty had taken the news harder than anyone. She had closed herself off in her room, crying and beating her pillows until they were unrecognizable masses of mutilated cotton and stuffing. To see her now you would have thought she had won the lottery.
"You're really all right?" Kitty asked hurriedly. "You're gonna be okay?" She looked Storm up and down as if checking for wounds. "Shouldn't you be laying down?"
"Not you too," Ororo groaned.
"That's what I've been tellin' her," Logan said at the same time.
"Wow. I am so happy!" Kitty hugged her again. "I mean when the Professor told us to expect the worst-" Kitty shuddered. "Don't wanna go there." She watched Wolverine fill the frying pan with an assortment of sliced meats and what looked like a pound of butter, saying, "There go your arteries."
"Take a breath," said Logan.
"What? Right. So what's the deal with Gambit, huh? Rogue says he turned all traitor and stuff." Kitty popped a piece of Monterey jack into her mouth.
The knife Ororo had been using to chop onions fell from her suddenly numb fingers.
"Kitty!" Wolverine growled.
"What? Oh- Oh, hey, Storm I didn't mean to bring that up. I'm sorry." She looked at Wolverine's scowling face. "I really am."
"You did nothing wrong, Kitten." Ororo picked up the knife and laid it carefully on the counter. "If you will both excuse me I believe I am going to have a little chat with Rogue."
"Hold up, darlin'." Logan stepped in front of her. "I don't think that's such a good idea. She's still pretty upset over the whole thing."
"So? That does not give her the right to call Remy a traitor."
"No. His tryin' t' sell ya to the big bads does!" Logan snarled. He couldn't believe she was actually defending that snake in the grass.
"Are you serious?" Ororo demanded incredulously. "Did we brand her a traitor when she left him in Antarctica to die? No. Did we turn our backs on Jean when the Phoenix took her over, costing over five billion people their lives. Were they any less significant because they were from an alien world, Logan? No. But we accepted Jean back and Rogue. And you! You have pushed us away more times than any one member of this team, coming and leaving as you see fit. Fighting with Scott, sleeping with his wife! For crying out loud Logan we've all made mistakes. Every one of us!" She was holding the front of his shirt now, hands clenched in tight fists. "He is my friend, and a wise man once said to me: A friend is someone who knows your own personal song, and is there to sing it for you when you forget it. Remy has forgotten his song, Logan, and we need to sing it for him."
Wolverine was silent for a moment, struck dumb by the vehemence of her voice, the passionate snapping of her eyes. "What moron told you that?" he rumbled after his stunned disbelief evaporated beneath the white hot burn of his anger.
"You did."
"When the hell have ya ever listen'd t'me?" His voice had lowered to dangerous level. Upon hearing it Kitty slid back through the wall, squeaking a quick "See ya later" out as she went.
"Huff and puff all you want, Logan. I am not afraid of your bark." Ororo's eyes swirled to cloudy white, snips of electricity darting out of them. He bared his teeth, she smiled. He leapt at her, she opened her arms. He pressed her close, she pressed closer.
"Ah, God, darlin', you make me crazy." He claimed her mouth in a savagely tender kiss. He felt her warm hands slide over his black T-shirt, arms circling his neck. He deepened the kiss, drinking in the sweet taste of her mouth, a taste like no other, intoxicating and overwhelming. He could feel the feral part of him responding to her, and he pulled back. She blinked up at him, innocent seductress.
"Your meat is burning." she said languorously.
"You have no idea," he growled. She laughed, a genuine ripple of delight, tapping his shoulder and pointing to the smoking frying pan on the stove.
"Oh, shit!" He jumped back to the stove, yanking the pan from the burner. "You think this is funny?" he shot over his shoulder as she continued to laugh.
"A bit, yes." She confessed tossing her glorious mane over her shoulder. She looked so beautiful sitting there at the counter, sunlight glinting off her hair, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth, that he had to take a calming breath to keep his heart from skipping. He glanced down at the blackened slices of meat caked onto the pan.
"Takeout?"
"Takeout."