A/n: Wow. You people really are fluff-a-holics. Many thanks for your kind reviews.

And I know this technically should have been up yesterday, but it nearly killed me to write three chapters in an afternoon, let alone four…

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11/11/20

Part Five:

By the time they got back to the cabin, both Max and Logan were more than ready for lunch. They collected the food and some blankets to sit on and set it all up in the picnic spot. The meal was relaxed, cheerful; they sat side by side, Logan leaning back against a dead log to support his back. A lull had developed in the conversation as they finished the last of the thermos of coffee he'd made. (Logan had insisted he make the coffee; he still didn't quite trust her to give him liquids.)

Max would never admit it, but it felt good; right, to be sitting with him, so close she could feel his shoulder against her own. The movement of his arms even under his thick jacket demonstrated the presence of the bulging muscle beneath. It wasn't often she got to be in such close proximity to Logan; the chair and their own personalities kept them at a distance.

Logan's thoughts were similar; having Max at his side made him feel privileged that she'd decided to spend her time with him. It was like he'd found a partner, in every sense of the word; someone who'd stick by him no matter what.

"Whatcha thinkin?" Asked Max, after a couple of minutes.

"Remembering the last time I looked at this view," Logan replied, distantly.

"That was a bitch of a day," she agreed. Hesitantly, she continued, "Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"You had a huge bounty on your head, Max; I didn't want to tell you in case you refused to leave."

"I mean before that. I know you weren't well for a while before you collapsed."

"I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. Had no idea it was serious until I got my test results back from Sam. That was where I was that morning, when you kept calling me to come help you."

"I did wonder why you weren't picking up the phone. So if you'd known, would you have told me?"

"I'd have said I was going in for some follow up surgery, I expect. Played it down, you know."

"You really have to work on not using that tough guy image."

"An image of being tough is all I have left," he whispered, too quiet for a normal person to hear.

Fortunately, Max wasn't normal. "You're one of the toughest people I've ever met," she said indignantly, turning quickly towards him.

Too quickly. The slight impact of her shoulder against his unbalanced Logan; he had to throw out a hand to stop himself toppling over onto the dirt.

"Yeah, I'm real tough," he said sarcastically. "Can't even sit on the ground without falling over."

"You have so many more obstacles to overcome than everyone else; and you still achieve what no normal person I've ever known could." Instinctively, Max raised one gloved hand to trace his jawline. "You're… special…"

Logan was suddenly aware of how close she was; her hand on his face, their lips only inches apart. He began to tilt his head towards hers…

A branch fell with a crash from a tree behind them, shattering the moment.

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Instantly, Max and Logan both turned towards the source of the sound. A flock of birds flew up, their panicked squawking filling the now darkening sky.

"Just a branch falling," said Logan, at that precise moment hating all trees with a passion.

"The wind's getting up," said Max, feeling much the same. We should probably head back inside. They met one another's eyes again, and looked away, embarrassed. Max set to gathering up the remains of their picnic while Logan lifted himself back into his chair.

On the short walk back to the cabin, they both kept their distance.

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"Looks like we're set for a full blown storm," said Logan, peering out of a window as Max came in with an armful of logs for the fire. Neither of them mentioned it had rained the last time Max spent the night there, too.

"The rain's barely started," she replied, setting her load down and dusting off her hands. "There anything I should secure before the wind really gets up?"

"Not unless you've loosened it since we got here. Place gets pretty well fastened down at the end of summer by some of Jonas's minions."

"Then we're good," she said, too brightly.

"Yeah," said Logan, turning to look up at the heavens again. "Leave the wood. I'll start the fire in a minute."

"Ok," Max replied. "Guess I'll get back to the kitchen and start dinner like the domestic goddess I am."

At last, her comment elicited a smile from Logan. "Hate to say it, but somehow I don't think there's a housewife gene anyplace in there."

"Hey, a girl can try," laughed Max, heading back into the kitchen.

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"Logan, I'm impressed," Max said, stepping back into the main room to see the roaring fire he'd built. "Never knew you were a boy scout."

"I wasn't," he said, leaning forwards to add another log. "Like I said, we came up here a lot when I was a kid. Learned firemaking in this very room."

"It obviously worked," she told him.

"How's the dinner coming along, oh domestic one?"

"Yeah, about that…"

"What? Something go wrong?"

"Well… it's not exactly the kind of thing you can make in a kitchen. I thought, seeing as we have the open fire and all…"

"S'mores?"

"Among other things. That ok? I didn't think I could really cope with making a real dinner like you can…"

"Max, in my misspent youth a bunch of us used to come up here for a week every summer. We ate almost nothing but s'mores. It's great."

Max couldn't help the huge grin on her face. Not only would Logan like his birthday dinner, he was also opening up a little about his past. What more could a girl ask for?

The memory of him leaning in towards her lips earlier that day flashed briefly across her mind. She could have sworn he was going to kiss her before that damn branch interrupted…

"Max?"

"Yeah, I'll, uh, just get the marshmallows," she said, snapping out of it.

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Well? Too fluffy? Not fluffy enough? What d'ya think?