A/N: Thanks to those who read and those who reviewed! And have an awesome Thanksgiving!
The last few days of summer faded quickly, giving way to a crisp and cool autumn. Ororo divided her time between cleaning her new classroom and decorating her apartment. Both rooms were slowly coming together; her studio was an explosion of color and textures: cloth in African patterns supplied by Kioni, bright flowers and ivy draped artfully everywhere by her. They divided the room by way of curtains and rods, allowing them some measure of privacy when they might want it. A loveseat had been smashed into one corner with a miniature entertainment center and a microscopic bookcase filled to bursting. There were appliances on the counter and glass dinnerware in the cabinets. With the window now clean and transparent, Central Park could be seen in the distance, a splash of orange and yellow against the gray.
The classroom was slower going. For one, she didn't have much help. Jean and Scott stopped by when they could, and she, Remy and Marie had spent a memorable afternoon trying to evacuate a nest of mice from the vent above her desk, but other than that, she was alone. PS 218 wasn't housed in the nicest of buildings and as a new teacher her classroom was located in a portable that used to be used for storage. Ro was thinking that a fire hose might be the quickest way to get it all clean before schools started the following Monday.
On Saturday night she was still armed with rags and Lemon Pledge, attempting to polish the desks to a respectable shine. The room at least no longer smelled like dirt; she'd been burning aromatic candles non-stop while she cleaned. The carpet was a uniform shade of gray now instead of being mottled with brown spots and the walls were covered in laminated posters and bulletin boards. She remembered her afternoon in the teaching supplies store with Logan, laughing and picking out borders and banners. He'd vetoed any he had deemed "too girly" explaining that by fourth grade, boys were less likely to respond to anything frilly.
The result was an assortment of movie posters that she had customized herself, adding multiplication charts, periodic tables and upbeat slogans. Her favorite was a picture of the Millennium Falcon hitting light speed, captioned "Shoot for the Stars!"
She sighed, throwing the soiled rag down on the last surface and glancing around, satisfied. The room looked a thousand percent better. Supplies were ordered neatly in cabinets, hooks hung over cubbies for backpacks and coats, and the white boards were shining in anticipation for Monday's lesson. Ororo looked at her watch, reflecting that it was nearly 7 and she still hadn't had dinner. Resigning herself to one more hour's work, she flopped into the wheeled chair behind her desk and pulled out her lesson plans. She was nervous for her first day, but hoped that luck would favor the prepared. So engrossed was she that she neglected to notice her phone vibrating from her purse.
"Miss Munroe?" Logan's voice in the doorway startled her, "Think you can take a recess break?"
His leather jacket was unzipped, exposing a peak of flannel underneath. He was holding bags of food, Italian, by the smell of it.
"Did you stop in Little Italy?" she asked him, jumping up to greet him.
"I did." He confirmed. "I even brought the teacher an apple, but that will have to wait till after dinner." He set the bags on her desk, pulling out a gourmet caramel apple, her favorite.
"What would I do without you?" she hugged him, inhaling his scent.
Of all the things about Logan she found most comforting, his smell was at the top of the list. It was masculine, like Old Spice deodorant and gasoline from the shop and his bike. Even as her life whirled around her, Logan's smell remained constant, soothing her whenever he was close. She felt the stress ebb out of her as he set their makeshift table.
"Have you been here all day? I called and then went by your apartment but your roommate said she hadn't seen you." He asked her around a mouthful of piping hot lasagna. When she nodded, he added, "Burning the candle at both ends, aren't you, darling?"
"And work hasn't even started yet," she agreed. "But all of the other teachers are here too."
"Yeah, I met a few on my way in." Logan popped open a bottle of iced tea and handed it to her.
Ro's favorite of her coworkers so far was the music teacher, a bubbly blonde named Alison Blaire. Her enthusiasm was almost infectious, and she bounced around the school, introducing Ro to all the other teachers. Her fellow fourth grade teachers were Warren Worthington, a blonde Adonis who apparently passed on a family fortune to pursue his dream of teaching and Cecilia Reyes, a Puerto Rican woman who hailed proudly from the Bronx. They were helpful in getting Ro situated, and assured her she had nothing to worry about.
"Fourth is the best grade," Cecilia had told her, "The kids are old enough to line up and go to the bathroom and raise their hands, but still young enough to be cute and cuddly."
"So, you ready for Monday?" Logan asked her as they split the candied apple.
"Ready as I'll ever be." She licked some chocolate from her fingers.
Logan moved his chair closer to hers and draped his arm around her shoulders.
"I'm proud of you, darling," he said.
"Logan, I know I don't mention it often, but it means a lot to me, you staying here." Ororo found herself looking nervously at her hands.
"Where else would I be Ro?" Logan chuckled.
"Well, you could be looking for jobs, or—"
"Darling, don't worry about that. Something will open up. In the meantime, there's no one I'd rather spend time with. You're a lot better company than my foster dad." William Stryker, Logan's former foster father was a good man, but stern and unyielding and completely without a sense of humor. He offered Logan a place to stay right after they graduated. Logan graciously declined.
"Thank you anyway," Ororo told him, tilting her head up for a kiss. He met her halfway, pulling her chair closer to him.
Alison Blaire wolf-whistled from the doorway. "You two had better nip that in the bud before Monday!"
Ro pulled away, smiling. "Logan, this is Alison. I told you about her."
Logan stood up to shake Alison's hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm—"
"Way hotter than Ororo let on," Alison gave him an appreciative once-over. "And he brings you dinner too? Lucky girl. Are you all done in here? It looks great!" she barely paused to take a breath.
"Just about." Ro laughed.
"Good, because I'm taking you out tonight." Logan interjected.
"Ohhhhh…Don't keep her up too late. She's going to need rest to handle the munchkins." Ali winked. "Well, I just thought I'd check in before I head out. I'll see you Monday morning, Ororo! Nice meeting you Logan!" Alison smiled brightly and bounced off.
"She's like the energizer bunny," Logan laughed as they walked out to the parking lot a few minutes later. He led her to his Harley, parked in the front.
"You brought the bike?" Ro felt herself growing warm with excitement. It had been months since she'd ridden it.
"Hop on, darling," he swung his leg over and offered her a helmet.
She strapped it on, tucked her purse under her coat and wrapped her arms around his waist. The bike rumbled to life beneath them, sending tremors up her legs. He steered them into traffic, speeding down the road between cabs and cars to her apartment.
"Let me just change really quickly," Ro told Logan as they headed up the stairs.
The sound of music trickled down the stair well. "Sounds like someone is having a party," Logan remarked lightly.
"It sounds like it's on my floor." Ororo mused. "Maybe it's 6D."
"I don't think so…"Logan said cryptically.
Ro glanced back at him before speeding up toward her door. He followed casually, only breaking into a grin as she flung her door open.
"Congratulations!" Kioni, Rogue, Remy, Jean, Scott, and her parents all shouted at her.
They immediately enveloped her in a group hug, though Kioni hung a little bit back. Her apartment had been covered in paper apples and chalkboards.
"Hi mom and dad." It had been a month since she saw her parents. Her mother, N'Dare Munroe, was smiling brightly. Ororo had bumped heads with her mom in high school. During a memorable summer when Ororo had just graduated high school, her mother forced her to work in a mechanic's garage to fix the car Ororo had totaled. Of course, Ro had met Logan there, so it had worked out in the long run. Ororo had inherited her ivory hair, blue eyes and wild streak from her mother. Her father, David, stood behind her mom. He was always the calmer of the pair and the mediator when his wife and daughter's hot tempers flared up. He was a photojournalist by trade and through his job had met N'Dare in Kenya. They moved to NY, had Ororo and the rest was history.
"We're so proud of you," Her dad told her, sliding a wrapped gift into her hands.
Ororo pulled back the paper, aware that everyone's eyes were on her. It was a photo album, filled with pictures of Ro from pre-school through college graduation. School pictures of her parents, of extra-curricular activities with Jean and Remy, and even a picture of a little boy version of Logan being hugged by a dark hair woman with a pretty smile, lined the pages of the book.
"My mom," Logan tapped the picture with a thick pointer finger. She had passed when Logan was a teenager. Ro squeezed his hand.
"Logan helped set this all up for you," N'Dare smiled at him.
"We spent the night at his apartment last night." Her dad put in. Her parents had always liked her boyfriend. He pulled Logan aside, chatting amicably about how the Jets played the night before.
Scott and Remy joined in, falling into an easy pattern of teasing and arguing. Kioni hit it off well with her mother and Jean was all too happy to fill N'Dare in on wedding developments. They talked table settings while Kioni spoke with Rogue about tuition prices at NYU. Ro sat on the loveseat with Logan, opening gifts of school supplies and work clothes.
"I have an outfit for you too," Jean whispered when her parents were distracted. "But it's a school outfit just for you and Logan." Ororo laughed.
Just before midnight her parents cleared out of the apartment, heading to a hotel near Times Square. Ororo saw them out. When she returned upstairs, Remy was pouring shots.
"Let's get the real celebration going, Stormy." He handed her a glass. Ro smiled at the nickname, resigning herself to a sloppy, drunk night.
Scott held his glass up. "To Miss Munroe, the best fourth grade teacher PS 118 has ever seen!"
Somewhere around her fourth shot, Ro found herself falling onto her bed watching the rest of her friends drink. Kioni had slid in seamlessly, and was laughing loudly with Jean about some dance Scott was performing. Rogue and Remy were making out on her loveseat like hormonal teens, and Logan was flopped out next to her.
"You okay, darling?" he asked her, his voice muffled by the pillow.
"Yup," she fell backwards next to him. "Just perfect."
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