Betsy weaved through the crowd of people in the bar, holding three shots over her head. Jean and Storm grabbed up the shots, toasted and threw them back. Every once in awhile a small group of teachers were able to steal away for a few short hours to blow off steam that couldn't be alleviated with simple workouts. Some time away from being an educator and modern day warrior made it easier to go home and fight the good fight another day.

As Jean flipped the glass on its rim, she looked up to see Logan walk through the door. With a forceful shake that most would think was the shot going to her head, she forced the lascivious thoughts of the women in the bar, concentrating on lyrics to a song the girls played repeatedly on their iPods while studying.

"Jean…Jean?"

"Huh?" She looked up to see Logan, and her two best girlfriends staring at her.

"You okay," Storm touched her arm, concern in her deep brown eyes.

She could have crawled under their table in embarrassment, catching a glimpse of her scowling face in the mind's eye of her silver-haired friend.

"Sure," she lifted her lips in a smile, that she was sure looked as forced as it felt. "Just gonna get some air."

Jean was grateful that her high heeled boots didn't catch on anything on her way outside. The shock of cool, fresh air to her lungs helped ease the pang of holding up her mental walls. A long sigh escaped her lips, leaning up against the wall of the bar.

"Got something on your mind?"

"When don't I," she chuckled, turning to look at Logan, who appeared as always, silent as the night around them.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No, I'm fine," she replied, looking away as a blush crept over her cheek. "I'll head back inside after awhile."

Logan's boots scuffed the ground, she watched as a flash of his metal lighter and the bitter tang of cigar smoke filled the space between them.

"Don't mind, do ya?"

"No. Surprised you're going to keep them waiting on you," she smiled.

"Them?"

"Half of the women, and all Harp on tap."

"How do you remember what I drink," he smirked.

"I'm observant," she shrugged, glad her face was in shadow.

"Bit crowded for my taste tonight," Logan smirked.

"I know what you mean."

"Jean? Thought you might need your jacket," Storm appeared like the moon from behind the clouds, luminescent and otherworldly.

"Thanks."

Storm smiled and walked back inside.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"What would your fan club think," she teased.

"C'mon," he stubbed out the cigar, and walked to his bike.

Jean zipped up her jacket, heart thrumming in her ribcage as the bike roared to life. She didn't hesitate securing her hair with a ponytail band on her wrist before climbing onto the bike behind him, since she wasn't about to ask if he had a helmet on hand.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she nearly shrieked when the bike took off like the Blackbird, holding on tighter. The air was much cooler as the bike tore up the road, wind roaring in her ears. It seemed they rode on for only minutes when Logan veered off on the exit of Baxter Preserve and killed the engine.

"You like it?"

"It's great," she grinned like an idiot.

Logan walked off into the dark, Jean following behind him.

"Ever rode on a bike?"

"Just a Ducati. Never as a passenger," Jean smiled, sticking her hands in the jacket pockets.

They came out on a meadow, bathed an eerie silver-green by the full moon.

"Wow," Jean walked down to the water.

Logan threw a rock out onto the water, skipping it far too many times for a regular human to manage.

"Wanna go out sometime?"

"Yes," Jean responded quickly.

Down the trail, trees thrashed suddenly. Logan unleashed his claws, turning to meet the threat.

Jean walked up behind Logan, grabbing his wrist.

"Wait…it's only Human kids."

"You sure?"

"Are you serious," Jean hissed.

Logan sheathed his claws, Jean walked past him and into the dark.

"Jean."

Jean stood there with a map and flashlight in her hands, not that it was needed except for purposes of pointing them in the direction of their lost car.

"Hey…thanks!"

"No problem," Jean turned around and into Logan's chest.

"I'm not used to being around a telepath."

Jean snorted, stepping around him as she walked back to the bike.

"Asking a freakin' telepath if she's sure-" she muttered to herself, losing her footing as she stepped up on a rock, forgetting her shoes were not for hiking.

"Ow!" Jean immediately sat down, clutching her ankle.

"Jean, you shoulda let me lead," Logan was there, quiet as always.

"Well you shouldn't insult telepaths by questioning their reliabili-ow!"

"Not broken."

"Gee Logan, are you sure about that?"

"I apologized, Jean."

"Yeah, well help me up and take me home."

Logan picked her up. "This will be faster."

"Fine."

He carried her back to the bike, and returned to the mansion. Jean had planned to hobble back to her room, but as soon as Logan could manage it, he picked her back up and carried her inside.

"Logan, you don't have to do this," she was a bit concerned they'd run into a student who would then recount how Logan swept her off to her room in the middle of the night after being at the bar.

"You need to have it looked at."

"Hank is in the lab," Jean mumbled.

"Okay."

Jean hit the button for the elevator, and tried not to let the heat of embarrassment reach her cheeks as they walked into the lab.

"Hank, got somethin' for ya."

"Stars and garters, what happened?"

"I wasn't wearing the proper hiking footwear," Jean smiled.

"It doesn't seem to be broken, but thought you should check it out," Logan gruffed.

"Indeed, we'll take an x-ray to be sure."

Logan leaned up against the wall while Hank puttered around. Hank took the x-ray, and informed them he would be back in a minute.

"Thanks Doc," Logan sat on the bed next to her.

"You don't have to stay, I'm sure Hank can manage."

"I caused this, I'm stayin'."

Hank walked in, ever the optimist. "We don't have to amputate today."

"Well that's funny, I came in for a strep test, Doc," Jean smiled.

"Just a sprain, Jean. Ice it, take it easy until it doesn't bother you anymore."

"Do I get a sucker?"

"You only get suckers when you get a shot," Logan reminded her.

"He ruins all my fun," Jean rolled her eyes.

"Last task of the night, Logan make sure she doesn't run up the stairs."

"Got it, Doc."

Jean sighed in exasperation as she was picked up a third time. "Seriously, what is it with you and throwin' me around?"

"You like it, admit it."

"Goodnight, Hank."

Logan carried her upstairs to her room, setting her on the bed.

"Thanks, you didn't have to-"

"I insulted you, least I could do."

"Sorry, didn't mean to snap at you, Logan."

"I've had worse," he shrugged.

"Guess that means I don't get to spar for a few days," Jean sat back on her bed.

"I'll just run the kids ragged until then."

"You won't replace me?"

"Don't want to. Gonna be ok gettin' yourself to bed?"

"I can undress myself, Logan," she smirked.

"See you tomorrow," he pulled out a sucker from his pocket.

"Candy thief!"

"What's the difference between and x-ray and a shot anyway-" his words were cut off as Jean grabbed the front of his t-shirt and kissed him.