Marie liked going on pick-ups with Logan. Things were better now with the others than they'd been shortly after she'd returned from taking the Cure, but it was still awkward to be alone with them for long periods of time. They'd never really forgiven her. They saw her desire for the Cure - her desire to neutralize her mutation - as a betrayal; a rejection of them, their cause and of herself, too. It was a deep wound that was still healing.

In contrast, it was easy to be with Logan. It always had been. Even hours of silence didn't make her feel uncomfortable. He didn't give a shit what the others thought about either of them. Their treatment of Marie pissed him off, but he'd never been one to let anyone dictate his behavior. He'd simply made a place for her in his life and anyone who didn't like that could go fuck themselves as far as he was concerned.

Logan was good company. He was usually rude and irascible, but also prone to surprisingly deep conversation between his moments of surly silence and biting sarcasm. In the right mood — and with the right person — he told a good story, and he also appreciated a well-timed joke, the dirtier the better. Marie approved.

Logan was driving, as usual. Marie had a map in her hand and a cherry Slurpee between her knees. The sweet, syrupy scent wasn't doing much for him, but he could appreciate the way it had turned her tongue red and her full lips a deeper shade of rose.

Marie had her nose buried in the map, oblivious to his scrutiny. Logan didn't do GPS. He stayed off the grid as much as possible. While Marie could appreciate his reasons for doing so, she fully embraced modern technology, though her phone and Ipod were, at present, stowed away in her bag. She wasn't about to waste this opportunity. She'd rather talk to him, or even just sit with him in silence. She missed too much with her earbuds in— and she had to put up with his pithy comments about her eclectic taste in music.

The scenery sped past and the quiet stretched out comfortably. Marie had one foot up on the sun-warmed dash and she was humming along off-key to an old Johnny Cash song on the radio as the miles rolled by. Her finger traced the map, slowly tracking a red line up the page.

"North on 87 almost to the border, sugar. Then west on 11 to Mooers. Maybe another hour or so with the way you drive."

Lead foot, she'd teased.

Nah, adamantium, he'd shot back with a wry smirk.

They passed a billboard advertising Richard and Kitty's Roadside Adult Video Shop. Highlights included parking for big rigs, video booths and a new shipment of Fleshlights.

"Nice." Marie rolled her eyes. "Richard and Kitty? Not too subtle, are they?"

Frankly, he was a little surprised she got the joke.

"Didn't take you for a prude, darlin'."

She giggled. "I'm not. I just don't get the allure. First of all, who drives around needing to come so bad that pulling into a place like that seems like a good option? And second, that's a pretty private thing. I'm all for orgasms, but I can't really see how having one in a building full of random strangers would be satisfying or relaxing in any way."

Of course she didn't get it. She was a good girl.

A good girl who was all for orgasms, apparently, his unhelpful libido supplied.

He shrugged. "Life on the road can be kinda lonely."

There was an unreadable look on her face. "Have you ever….?"

"Nah. Not my style." He didn't need to pay for it. Women threw themselves at him wherever he went. When he felt the itch, all it usually took was stopping for a beer somewhere. It typically wasn't long before some sweet thing was crawling into his lap.

"Been tempted?"

"Nope." A low growl of amusement rumbled in his chest. "But I could turn the car around if you're curious, baby."

"Thanks." Her laugh was belly deep. It made her eyes warm and sparkly and put a flush on her pretty face. "But it's not really my style either."

"What is?" He kept his eyes on the road, as if he'd only been asking about the weather. "We know it's not Playboy," he couldn't resist adding, enjoying her blush more than he should.

"Come on, Logan. That's pretty personal, don't you think?"

"Darlin', you've got me in your head, and a coupla days back you saw a porno about four steps away from my bed. Does it get any more personal than that?"

"Yes," she said truthfully. But there was no way she was going near any of those kinds of details.

"Then if you're still at center ice, what's the problem?"

That just made her laugh. "Fine then. It's not really magazines for me. I like it at the touch of a finger."

His eyes widened and his head swung around sharply as his fingers tightened reflexively on the stick shift. He'd only been teasing her a little. He never imagined she'd say something like that. That was little crass for her, not that he minded. But still.

"OhMyGod! Not that! The internet! Geez! I don't like anyone knowing my personal business."

"Fair enough."

"And magazines are a little old school." Plus buying them embarrassed her. Admitting that probably wouldn't help. There was that old adage about being too young for pornography if you were too embarrassed to buy it, though it wasn't so much embarrassment as it was that it was just intensely personal. The world didn't need to know what turned her on. She was still working that out for herself.

"Thanks a lot."

"Hey, the classics never go out of style, right?"

"There's somethin' to be said for a good pinup girl."

"It's more the erotica side for me. Usually, anyway. Words not pictures, though other things get a look-in occasionally."

He digested that, feeling heat begin to prickle under his arms and at the small of his back. A different sort of heat was beginning to gather lower down.

"What about you, sugar?"

"Me?"

"Pictures or words?"

"Oh. Heh. Pictures."

"No dirty movies?" She was surprised.

"On a communal television in a school filled with all kindsa kids, when some of 'em don't ever sleep?"

"I see your point." She put that fucking red straw between her lips and sucked. Logan felt himself begin to get hard even though it had been completely asexual. It's just a Slurpee. Get your shit together, Wolverine. "Maybe when you get your house finished," she teased, sticking that damned red tongue of hers out at him.

"Somethin' to look forward to." He snorted. "Gonna start layin' the floor when we get back. You wanna help?"

"You just don't wanna spend all afternoon on your knees by yourself."

At any other time it probably wouldn't have been a huge deal, but on the heels of their previous conversation, her comment sent a hot blush sweeping down her neck and chest.

"Not my style either," he said with a wicked grin that only made her blush more.

"Oh my God! You're beyond help." She smacked his arm. "But yeah, I'll pitch in if you spring for the beer."

"Deal."

Up next: Like A Virgin. The Rogue spends a little quality time with the Wolverine. It begins with hardwood and ends with something neither of them expected...

For the curious: Richard and Kitty's roadside porn shack is real — or at least it was a few years ago when I passed it on a road trip (though I've relocated it to the East Coast for the purposes of this story). Wish you all could have seen the billboard. It was cheesy, rude, hilarious and just on the acceptable side of indecent.