Logan and Marie sat on opposite ends of the tailgate of his truck in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the night. The stars were brilliant overhead and they were far enough from the light pollution of the city to see the Milky Way. It reminded Marie of the painted ceiling of The Red Door, but everything these days seemed to remind her of that night.

"You good, kid?"

Marie nodded, smiling as Johnny Cash crooned into the darkness, filling the easy silence. Sometimes they came and talked the night away. Sometimes, especially after the more difficult missions, they sat in silence just breathing in the stillness and letting the peace wash through them.

"Ya know, they're beginning to notice now, sugar."

"Notice what?"

"Us leavin' together after missions."

Logan nodded. He'd seen the looks too. 'Ro's concern. Remy's accusation. Pete's knowing smirk. Jubilee's frank curiosity. Hank was somewhere between interest and regret. He'd always had a bit of a thing for Marie and there'd been a few years where Logan had wondered if maybe she might lean big blue's way. She'd always tended towards older, feral men. "Yeah. Bug ya?"

Marie rolled her beer between her palms, swinging her leg absently. "Not really, no."

Logan took a pull off the bottle between his legs. "But?"

"But what, cowboy?"

"Thought I heard a 'but' in there somewhere."

Marie sighed, face tilted up at the sky. "Maybe a little one."

He grunted. He wasn't the most talkative man on a good day. After missions, even less so. "They pressin' ya for answers yet?" Nobody was stupid enough to ask after the Wolverine's private life. At least not to his face.

"Not yet."

"Reckon it'll be soon now." They all lived in each other's pockets. Even the remote gamekeeper's cottage was still too close.

"Me too."

"And you don't know what to say?"

"It's not that."

"Mmph." She knew his grunts. That one said: Tell me more.

"I just think maybe we should get to figure out what this is before we hafta explain it to everyone else."

"You know what this is," he said quietly. That's why she was on the other end of the tailgate. Forever wasn't a decision to be made lightly.

"Mmphf."

Logan's head jerked once. He knew her sounds too. That one said: I sure as hell do.

The silence stretched out again, broken only by George Jones, Bob Wills and Hank Williams. Marie hummed along with Randy Travis and ruined a perfectly respectable George Strait song by singing along. Badly.

Logan's lips twitched. Even that was growing on him.

"Need another beer, sugar?"

"Nah. Still good with this." He lifted the bottle of bourbon sitting between his legs. "Get one for yourself though, huh?" He liked her a little drunk. She tended to touch him more. And to speak her mind more, too.

"You tryin' to get me drunk?"

"You're already drunk."

"True." Her husky giggle rang out. "But you like it," she accused, opening another Shiner and tucking one leg back under her, leaving the other free to swing back and forth. Logan could feel the slight movement of the truck under him, rhythmic and steady. She had a hard time being still after missions. He could relate, although he tended to expend the tension in other ways.

"Yep." He didn't elaborate. Mostly he liked that she was less careful. Less hypervigilant of her skin.

She was quiet a while, picking at the label on her beer.

"You still owe me a sex story, you know."

She'd waited until the perfect moment to spring that on him. A large sip of the fiery bourbon went down wrong and he coughed, cursing quietly under his breath.

"Marie," he warned.

"You do," she insisted.

"That right?"

"Yep."

"I call bullshit."

"Well, I call bullshit on your bullshit." She laughed at her own retort and her playfulness made something warm flare in his chest. "You owe me."

He wondered what she was really after.

"Nah. Toldya that night at The Red Door." In the alcove she'd pushed him for the details of what he'd done the last time he'd been in there with a woman. A condom. Wintergreen mints. A hard fuck from behind. She'd gotten her details, and then some.

"No you didn't."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't say a damn thing, sugar. I guessed. That doesn't count."

Logan opened his mouth to refute her and then realized she was right.

"Dammit." He hated owing anyone a debt. Even her. It was important to him too that he repay her honesty and openness with his own. That was a two way street he wanted to keep open. "You really wanna hear about me with another woman?" Things were different now. He couldn't see that holding the same titillation for her as it once did.

She thought for a minute and then frowned. "Well, no." He could hear the irritation in her voice. At him? At herself? Their situation in general? He couldn't tell.

"Whatcha lookin' to get outta me tonight, baby?"

Marie sighed. "I don't know." She was fidgety. Unsettled. "Things are different now without Charles and— and the others." He did not miss her small hesitation as she tripped over the rest of the friends they'd lost. "The Alpha team is a big deal. It's harder to come down after missions now when there's more on the line, you know?"

Logan nodded. There was more on the line for him, now, too. She was an asset at his side in battle, confident and strong, but also his greatest liability. Keeping her alive came before everything else.

"I like this time here with you. Out here like this just you and me with the night flowing around us. It helps bring me down after." She took a deep swallow off the bottle. "I guess it's just taking a while tonight."

"Restless?" It wasn't a big leap. She'd hardly been still since they got here.

"Yeah. Still kinda just buzzing under my skin. Keyed up and rarin' to go, you know?"

"Sure as hell do." A buzz? He fucking wished. A buzz would be an improvement over how he felt right now. He had a full-on roar sizzling in his blood that would burn for hours still.

"What do you do to come down, sugar?"

"Ain't pretty," he grunted.

"I don't care. Tell me." Little flash of the Rogue in her just then. Not too many people could get away with barking an order at the Wolverine. Fewer still he'd actually answer.

"Fightin'. Fuckin'."

"Some things never change, huh?"

His jaw clenched and he fixed her with a hard stare. "You really wanna go there?"

Logan was a little lost when she apologized instead. "Sorry, sugar."

"For what?"

"For not being ready for what we both need tonight."

He knew she wouldn't have said it straight out like that if she hadn't been a little drunk and he wasn't sure how to answer back. He wasn't going to push her, not about that, but he wasn't going to tell her it was okay, either. Not when it was ripping them both to shreds.

Logan shrugged, settling for ambivalence. "It is what it is, baby."

"You wanna go, sugar? Throw down? I'm not afraid to take you on."

Her willingness to offer him a different physical resolution drew a dark chuckle from him. It was sweet, but painfully naive. "You know what's gonna happen if I put my hands on you tonight."

She knew. She kept her distance after missions. So did he. They were both too volatile afterwards. "So tell me about the fucking, then," she said, bold as brass.

"Ain't nothin' to tell. I'm only fuckin' myself now. Same as you," he snapped, more roughly than he'd intended. He'd had a lot to drink too.

"So tell me about that, sugar." His eyes widened briefly. "You told me you would that night on your deck, remember?"

He did. "Hmph."

"You said you'd tell me if I wanted to know. So, I'm askin'."

"You're playin' with fire, kid."

She took her glove off, the unspoken gesture was very clear. She could defend herself just fine no matter how riled up he got. "I'm not afraid of you."

That got her a raised eyebrow and a laugh that warmed his eyes, too. "Baby, you're not thinkin' that one through. It'd be fuckin' great for me. Mellowed me out real good last time…. better'n fightin' or fuckin' ever did, but you don't want what I got. The last thing you need is more wildness in ya right now."

He had a good point.

"Five Mississippi?" she teased.

"Infinity Mississippi, darlin'." His well never ran dry.

She thought that over and nodded. "So talk to me instead. Tell me about you."

Logan understood in that moment why this was safe for her. It wasn't about other women or even his fantasies of her. It took nothing from her and put nothing on her. No jealousy. No expectation. It was something intimate and private that was solely about him.

It was more than owing her a debt; more than one story exchanged for another. She was asking him for more now and he wanted to encourage that. He didn't mind talking about it. Sex didn't embarrass him. There was a vulnerability inherent in solo sex that made it a little uncomfortable, but she was only asking for the words, not a live demonstration. At least not yet. And that she was asking about it at all pleased him. At this point he was willing to give her whatever she needed to move things along.

"Sugar?"

"Thinkin'," he offered.

"About?" She killed the last of her beer and scooted into the bed of the truck so she could lay down and stare up at the night sky. She felt very spinny and only part of it had to do with how much she'd had to drink.

"Worried some 'bout offendin' ya." Most of it was pretty crude.

"Really? After everything of mine you read?"

That surprised him a little.

"Ain't the same." It wasn't real. Not in the same way.

"Maybe not, but it's not that different either."

"I guess. But how much of that could you say to my face?" They'd never really sat down and talked about what she'd written. He knew they needed to. Maybe this was a sign she was more ready for that discussion than he had previously thought.

"Honestly, I don't really know. But I kinda think maybe we should try sometime."

Logan understood she was putting a firm boundary down. She didn't want that tonight. Tonight she wanted something else from him.

He nodded. "Just givin' ya fair warnin', kid. It ain't pretty."

"It is to me." Sure, even words now. They were quiet but the ring of truth in them was undeniable, and it shook him deeply.

"It ain't always the same. Sometimes I just wanna get off. Sometimes it's more."

"It's that way for me, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He continued when she didn't elaborate, reading the unspoken cue. She didn't want to talk about herself as much as she wanted to know about him.

"Sometimes I like it real slow. Take my time. Get a good slow burn goin'. Back off from the edge a few times until I can't no more. I ain't real big on fantasy, but if it happens, it's usually then."

He looked over to see her reaction. She still wasn't looking at him but she was nodding a little and the color in her face had more to do with the three beers she'd put down rather than any discomfort over their conversation. She didn't smell embarrassed or uncomfortable. He'd have stopped there if she had.

"Sometimes it's just mechanical. More like relief than pleasure."

"I thought there was no such thing as a bad orgasm."

"Heh. Did you hear the word 'bad' come outta my mouth?"

She giggled and then fell silent again and he could tell she was waiting for him to continue.

"Sometimes I'm so fuckin' hot, I just wanna get off good n'hard."

She wasn't nodding anymore. Her scent still spoke to prurient curiosity, however. "What do you think of then?"

"Filthy shit," he returned evenly. There was an edge to his voice now. His own line in the sand. One he wouldn't cross without a clear invitation.

"Like?" And there it was. She always pushed.

Tonight he pushed back.

"The usual bullshit. Girl on girl. Fuckin' two women. Tits'n ass. Just usin' a mouth to get off." Her pupils blew wide at that one and her body jerked slightly in the bed of the truck. Shit.

"More."

"Dirty shit I've done. Dirty shit I wanna do again. Shit I haven't done yet." He gave a dark smile. "I ain't no Boy Scout. Hell, I probably did it and just don't remember."

"For example?"

He'd never had a virgin. He just shook his head. He wasn't going there even with an invitation.

"What about the Wolverine?"

Logan deliberately misunderstood because he didn't want to go there, either. Not now. Maybe not ever. The Wolverine's carnal thoughts still shocked him at times. "He don't think. He just wants."

Marie disagreed, but she could tell he was primed for a fight. She was surprised he'd shared as much as he had.

"Hmm…"

"It's different after missions."

"For me, too."

"Pillow not enough then?"

Her face flamed in the darkness. "No."

"For me it's different. Crystal clear. Focused and sharp with that wildness still roarin' in my head and burnin' in my blood. No fantasies then, either. Just little flashes of whatever I need to—"

"Get off?"

He shook his head.

"To keep myself together." He could tell he'd shocked her and the moment of emotional vulnerability made him swing back the other way with his next words. "S'real physical then. Fuckin' hard into my fist, just spit and sweat and comin' until I can't goddamn move."

"Wow."

"Too much?"

"No. But I'm totally not going to be able to think of anything else the next time we wrap up a mission, you know that, right?"

"Heh. You mean like how it is for me now every time I get on my bike?"

The Rogue just laughed and reached for another beer.

~ooOoo~

A week later, ZZ Top blared loud from the stereo, spilling out the windows into the spring sunshine. Logan watched with amusement as Marie's body moved with the beat while she painted the kitchen. He'd finally settled on a rich olive, a few shades deeper than the greenish flecks in the granite that reminded him of the coat she'd been wearing the first night they met. He was especially thankful for her help with this particular project. He liked working with his hands, building things, fixing things, but he hated painting with the fiery passion of a thousand dying suns. It was one of the reasons he'd left that job unfinished. He simply didn't have the patience for it and he wasn't too keen on the smell, either.

Marie couldn't carry a tune worth a damn, but she was belting out the lyrics and shaking her cute little ass while she cut in around the cabinets. Logan was sitting on the floor where he intended to put a kitchen table eventually. He had a notebook open in front of him and was making a list of materials for the lumberyard with one of those rectangular carpenter's pencils.

"She was really bombed and I was really blown awaaaaaaayyyyy….." The tip of her ponytail was bobbing along as she sang. "Until I asked her what she wanted, and this is what she had to saaaaaayyyyyy….."

Logan grunted in amusement. "Hey, kid. You know this song's about a blowjob, right?"

Her brush stopped.

"I sure do." She cocked her head at him, eyes sparkling. "Is it giving you ideas, sugar?"

God. She'd all but purred the words at him. That was new. While they'd both finally acknowledged the thing between them, it still hadn't gone beyond kissing and cuddling. Putting her panties in his fist that night had been a bold step for her, but it was like once she'd acknowledge the shift, the awareness of the change was enough for her. She was flirty and touchy-feely, but most often it was in a more casual way that drove him slightly crazy. He understood she needed time to adjust and right now she was more comfortable talking about intimate topics than trying any of them out, but the wait was painfully difficult. He managed to keep it in check with Marie, but the others had borne the brunt of his frustration more than once.

"As if I needed a song to inspire those kindsa thoughts." He tapped the pencil on the paper. "Got plenty of 'em already." Too many.

"Glad to hear it." She twirled the brush in the paint. "It's sure giving me ideas…." Wiping the angled brush on the edge of the can, she turned back to the wall. "But my boss is a real slave driver. He wants this project finished today so, I guess you're out of luck…." she teased.

Logan glanced over and chuckled when he saw she'd painted 'Mmm…. Logan is yummy' on the wall in huge green letters a foot high. They'd be painted over eventually when she finished cutting in and rolled the rest of the paint on with a roller, but the idea that those words would always be there warmed something inside him that had more to do with affection and less to do with carnal desire.

"Nice."

"You like that?"

"You know I do."

"Are we talking about my painting skills or blowjobs?"

"Pick one."

She snorted.

"What are you working on over there?"

"Kitchen table ideas. The space makes me think round, but I'm not sure." She was quiet which meant she had a strong opinion. Interesting. "You gonna tell me whatcha think?"

"A round table has no head and no foot. A man should be able to sit at the head of his own table." She wasn't teasing now.

That was just so… Logan caught her gaze. "I like that. Thanks, kid." Her youthful appearance made it easy to forget she had unfounded depths and the unique perspective of a plural memory. Sometimes what she had to say was remarkably profound. "Rectangle it is."

"With two long benches. Not chairs all around."

"Benches?" It was tempting. Two benches and a chair for the head and foot would be easier to build than six chairs.

"Yep. That way you can squeeze in as many little butts as you need to without cramming the table with chairs."

Little butts? He didn't think she was talking about the students at the school. The blush across her cheeks told him he was right. The idea that she could picture him as a father shook him. He wasn't quite sure what to say. She'd gone back to painting so she didn't have to look him in the face. He could only smell the paint, but he'd lay good odds she was embarrassed by what she'd said in an unguarded moment.

"I'll take it under advisement."

She just nodded, relieved he hadn't pressed. She hadn't meant to say that. She hadn't even realized it was in her mind to say.

"I was thinkin' a big slab of hickory for the table. Maybe with walnut butterfly joints."

"Hickory's more variegated, right?"

"Yeah. More variation than oak or ash. Harder than pine. More durable." He threw a lopsided smile at her back. "I build things to last, Marie."

"The hickory then," she said quietly. "Light and dark together. I like that."

He had the sense she had been talking about more than just the table. But then again, to be fair, so had he.

Up next: Livin' On A Prayer. Take my hand. We'll make it, I swear… Marie and Logan hit the road and wind up somewhere unexpected.