A/N: Hey everybody, thank you SO MUCH for reviewing! I have a sad confession, though. I am a slow writer. In order to avoid dropping off the map for a two months like I did a while back, I've decided that I'm going to pace myself. I'm going to try posting on Wedsnesdays and Sundays. We'll see how this works. I hope you'll keep following along. I know this is longer than we all expected at the outset.

A/N: As a consolation, you may want to check out the blog "Shirtless Superheroes." Yes, it's exactly what it sounds like, pages of scanned pictures of...shirtless superheroes. Check out May 2009, "Sabretooth Bondage." It's a nice one.

:)

*

Flying gives one opportunity to think, nothing to see but the landscape below, nothing to hear but a roaring wind. On her way home, she went over the possibilities of whom she might see, what she would say when she walked in, what she would say later when the questions insisted themselves upon her. She formed a plan and felt prepared as she dropped down onto the grounds of the school. Hair and body wind-whipped but dry from the flight, she moved quickly. Into the house, drop the boots, get to the bedroom, repeated like a mantra in her head.

She kicked off her boots by the garden tools in the garage, placing a bag of fertilizer in front of them just for good measure; now she would slip quickly up to her room to change into something more appropriate, less like that of someone who spent the night in the cab of a big rig. No one had greeted her in the yard. No Scott or Logan had tinkered in the garage. She almost thrilled as she came into the home stretch, rounding the bottom banister of the stairs, counting the seconds before she reached her room, when she heard Jean call out.

"Where have you been? We were looking for you last night to go the movies."

Ororo sucked in her breath and tried to look casual as she turned around. Emerging from the kitchen were Scott and Jean, hands clasped in absent-minded affection, Scott still munching on a bagel which he held in his left hand.

"Are you just waking up?" Jean asked, smiling at her outfit. Rumpled hair, bare feet, an extra large flannel, it made sense. Ororo's mind weighed the possibility of success were she to improvise a lie. I could say I got home late and slept in. "Well…," she began, stalling for time.

As the couple approached, Scott's eyes widened, first a tad, then to bulging. Ororo's heart skipped wondering what she had missed. She imagined ridiculous things: she had forgotten that she was wearing Sabretooth's notorious fur-lined coat (No, of course not); her shirt pocket had the name 'Victor Creed' embroidered on it (No, how could it). She glanced over herself – trying to hide her agitation - looking for whatever it was that triggered Scott's reaction.

"What is that?" he asked, staring directly at the right side of her neck.

Jean's eyes immediately followed, and soon after, they too bulged. "Oh my gosh." Jean's mouth spread into a disbelieving smile. "Is that a hicky?"

Ororo found her hand travelling involuntarily up to her neck, covering the location that had intrigued her friends. Of all the things to forget. Washing up in the cabin, she hadn't noticed anything but neither had she really examined herself in the warped stainless steel mirror that hung in the rudimentary bathroom, not with Sabretooth watching her every move from two feet away.

"Where were you last night?" Jean asked.

Didn't Logan tell them I met someone? She had expected questions about the evening but she hadn't expected their complete ignorance and she faltered trying to remember the exact story she had told the day before. Caught off guard, she blurted out, "Didn't Logan tell you?"

Two pairs of eyebrows rose, two shocked expressions. "Logan?" Scott murmured. It took a moment for Ororo to realize what they were thinking and when it hit her, a rosy flush bloomed across her cheeks. Her jaws worked silently, trying and failing to pump out a response, but before she could clarify, the devil himself strolled in from the backyard, smoldering cigar in hand. The looks he received from Jean and Scott would have made Ororo laugh had she not been frozen.

Though the pair seemed equally shocked, in the corner of Jean's eye was a faint twinkle of amusement. "Logan, is there something you want to tell us?"

Logan scowled at them. "What? I'm not apologizing."

Scott coughed in discomfort. "We weren't asking you to apologize. We're just…where did this come from?" Scott glanced quickly back and forth between Logan and Ororo.

"What do you mean, 'where did this come from?'" Logan snarled. "It came from my cigar box, genius. And I wasn't smoking it inside; I was on the back porch. Jesus, Mary, you have a stick up your ass."

Jean folded her arms. "I meant about 'Ro," she said, jerking her head in Ororo's direction.

He looked at Ororo and frowned. "What are you talking…" He stopped, seeing the same discolored flesh beneath her fingers that had shocked everyone else. As Logan's own eyes widened in amazement, Ororo fretted at how bad it must be to cause such a shock. How could I not have noticed it? He stared for a moment longer before a sudden panic gripped him, and he shot a pleading look at Jean. "Hey, I didn't do that!"

Something in Logan's frantic face loosened Ororo's awkwardness and a small chuckle bubbled up. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, Logan's glaring, as if she had spread a dirty rumor about him. "Okay, all three of you…" She paused to laugh. "No, no," she said, finding her words at last. "Logan did not make this mark on my neck. Logan, why didn't you tell them where I was last night?"

Still bewildered by the situation he had walked into, he shrugged and blinked. Then, recovering from his fluster, he found her eyes and gave her a meaningful look. "I figured it was your business." Ororo smiled and gave him an appreciative nod. He nodded back. He looked so understanding in that split second that she wondered what would happen if she told him the complete truth. Her musing was cut short, however, by Jean's exasperated sigh.

"Ororo, will you please tell me what you were doing last night?"

Inhale. Exhale. "I ran into someone while I was hiking yesterday and we decided to go out afterwards. I called the house and told Logan my plans but apparently he did not pass the message."

A dozen questions erupted across Jean's face, all vying to be the first out of her mouth. Ororo took the opportunity of Jean's indecision to regain her bearings. She needed to execute the second part of the plan: the plausible explanation, but she wanted Jean alone. There was a story of sorts to tell, but it was more artful dodge than anything. Jean would find it unsatisfying for certain but if she could accept it, the boys would fall in line after her. It would have to be good enough.

"Jean, let's talk upstairs. I want to change my clothes."

"Yes!" Jean responded, her eyes lighting up like fireworks. She grabbed Ororo's arm and began pulling her up the stairs, eliciting a chuckle from Scott. Jean glared down at him. "Scott, don't laugh at me. This is big news." He just laughed harder.

"I'm your friend, too, 'Ro," he called as they headed up. "I expect to be shown that hicky, too."

Logan's appearance was less jovial, more thoughtful, as she disappeared around the corner. She wondered fleetingly if he disapproved.