Geez, Logan looks like shit. "You all right, sugar?"
"Yeah, fine."
Oh no. You don't get to do that with me. "Nuh-uh. What's up?"
"Nothin'. Leave it, kid, I don't wanna talk about it."
Ahhh. I see where the monumental sulk is coming from. "Jean, right?"
"I said drop it."
"And you've known me do that when exactly?" Aha - I spy the ghost of a smile. Come on, sugar, tell me all about it - it'll make you feel better. I'll just sit down here and snuggle in... "Is this about the wedding?" A low growl. Don't think I'd even have heard that one if I hadn't been in real close. No other response. So, let's play Twenty Questions until you give up and spill the beans, sweetie. "Let's imagine it is. Let's imagine the woman of your dreams is marrying a man you actually quite like, but pretend to think is a weenie, in a little less than three weeks. Consequently you're moping around the mansion, looking like you'd like to kill something if only you could work up the enthusiasm. Does that sound about right?" A sigh, now. Poor Wolvie - you really have got it bad, haven't you?
"Somethin' like that." Didn't want to admit that, but I know, and you know I know. We have to find you something else to think about. Maybe someone to nail...?
"Well, in that case, you can help me with a little experiment." Raised eyebrow. A little interested, huh? "You see, I've always wanted to know - how much alcohol does it take to get you drunk, sugar?"
"Darlin', you read my mind." Awwww... He's so cute when he smiles like that.
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"Are you in love with Gumbo?"
Three bottles of Jack Daniels in an hour and a half (minus what I've had, which is relatively little), that's what it takes. It's not the quantity so much as the continuity of alcohol. He must be drunk - who'd have thought Logan would ever ask a question like that? And I'm sooooooooo not answering it. "Are you in love with Jean?"
"You know the answer to that one. Besides, he ain't engaged to Scooter."
Christ. Vivid mental imagery there. Heh. "That, I'd like to see. I think I'd pay to see it."
There's that cute smile again. "Heh. Come on. Quit evading the question."
"Shut up? Drop it?"
"You suddenly get to thinkin' I'm less persistent than you?"
Dammit. "Dammit, Logan... I thought we were here to talk about your problems."
"Nope. We're here to take my mind off my problems. I don't talk 'em out. You do. So talk."
I can see the moon from here. A little nail clipping of it in the sky. Lots of stars. Don't see as many here as you do in Meridian. We've got six bottles left. Cleared out the local liquor store, and came back to the mansion to drink 'em on the lawn, near the tree line, so as not to scare the locals. I remember the time I first went drinking with Logan. Thank god we went a little further out. Being banned from all the local bars would be a pain in the ass.
Damn him, he's still waiting for an answer. "I don't know. Wouldn't I know it, if I was in love with him? Y'know - it should - it should just be obvious."
"Maybe not." He's so rarely this open. Of course, the alcohol helps. "Maybe it ain't an on/off thing."
"Love as analogue rather than digital? Hmm. Makes some sense, I guess. I think then I'm about... eight o'clock in love with Remy."
"You should go for it. Date him or somethin'."
"Yeah, well, would it were that simple."
"It is."
"No, it's not. Dating guys at the mansion - team-mates... It's like going out with someone you work with, taken several degrees further. I have to rely on these people with my life, sometimes." And, yes, I know you're none too happy about that situation, sugar, but let's leave that particular discussion for another day. "I don't want to screw with that."
"Bullshit. That's just an excuse. What about Scooter and Jean?"
"Okay, point, but I'd say they were the exception rather than the rule. And, and... and also, I don't know if Remy's interested in me - I mean, really interested, in a relationship rather than a quick fuck. He plays games. I've seen it. I don't particularly like to be played."
"Again, bullshit. Geez, kid, you know he wouldn't do that with you. He knows he couldn't get away with it. I'd cut his balls off if he tried." And that's actually quite comforting - despite it being a totally wrong and caveman-ish attitude towards my ability to stick up for myself. "Anyway, it's different with you girls than it is with the others. Like you said, you're team-mates. He won't want to screw around with that, any more'n you do."
"I'm scared." Of Remy, of this conversation, take your pick. Why do I keep trying to find excuses not to go out with Remy? "Look at what could go wrong. I could kill him. One wrong move, he's in a coma, and I'm making things go 'boom'. And not only that, I'm untouchable, and he's... oversexed. How long would he want to stay with me? How long would I stand him tomcatting around? We're neither of us designed to be in a long-term relationship. We're both built for doomed love affairs - Remy because he couldn't be faithful if he wanted to, me because no one could stick around for the long haul. I couldn't ask someone to do that - it wouldn't be fair." God, I didn't know I was so - so bitter.
"Who says it has to be long-term to be good? Why're you thinkin' it hasta last forever? Maybe you could have something good for a time, and end it when it ends. That's just how it is, sometimes."
Good god. Is he right? I think he has a point, at least. Who'da thunk it? "Wolverine, Relationship Counselor?"
"Only to you, kid. It ain't on the standard résumé. Tell anyone else I've been saying this and I'll kick your ass. I think you're right, the Cajun ain't gonna stick around forever, it ain't in his nature. But that's nothin' to do with your skin. That's just on him. Someone else would."
"Ya think?"
"Yeah."
I'm genuinely curious as to what he thinks about my disaster-area love life. I mean, we very rarely talk like this - adult to adult. I sort of think of him as a paternal figure, except not. Maybe an uncle figure. When I was younger I had a crush on him - who wouldn't? He runs around - in leather, no less - looking just edible, and he saved my life at great risk to his own, and then gave me his tags. All this was after my own parents had thrown me out and I'd spent eight months on my own, on the road. I felt that, at last, someone cared about me, cared whether I lived or died, and I totally hero-worshipped him. But then I got to know him better - him, not just his memories - spent some time with him after the Sabretooth thing, and it just evolved into these warm feelings of really, really caring about him, loving him like he's family, and knowing he'll always be there for me. I know he loves me too - not in a dreamy, Jean Grey sort of way, or an 'I-just-gotta-nail-her' sort of way, but something... something else. He makes me feel safe. You know, even if it all went wrong with Remy, it wouldn't be the end of the world. I'd still have Logan. He'd be there to pick me up and dust me off and kick me in the ass if I moped. "Maybe I'll give it a try. But, sugar, if I do, you've got to promise to stop moping over Jean and go and find yourself someone pretty to nail."
"You're a pain in the ass, kid, you know that?"
I know that. He tells me often enough. "Promise me." He'll keep his word. Heh, I don't think he'll really have a problem with this promise.
"I promise." Good. We have a deal. He will find himself someone shaggable, and I will ask Remy out.
Oh, crap.
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TBC... This is complete, but I'm posting it slowly, because I'm a blue meanie...