I loved this time of year. Well, for the most part. I was excited for the snow – even being a southern belle, I loved the snow – the holiday cheer, the presents, no classes… you know, all the good things that come with Christmastime. And, of course, there are the things I’m not excited about – mainly how everybody gets grumpy and stressed and the exact opposite of holiday-cheerful… but I don’t deal with it much so that’s ok.

Anyway, so a bunch of us youngsters were sitting around a table, playing cards as the snow fell, Christmas decorations all around and Christmas music on the radio. We were all laughing and having a good time, generally enjoying this time. Finals had just finished and we were all relaxing until those of us who could visit their families would leave for the holidays.

It was Jubes’ turn. She studied her cards and fingered a few before she made her call: “two 5’s” and placed said cards on the very large pile in front of her.

Gambit smiled, “C’mon dere, chere, you don’ ‘spect Remy to believe that, do ya?”

Bobby smiled and, following the card shark’s lead, called Jubes’ bluff, “Yeah, Jubilee, I call Bullshit.”

She huffed, and exclaimed, “I knew there was a reason I hated this game! You guys suck, you know that!” as she flipped over her two cards – a 5 and a king – and then took the whole deck. We all just laughed.

As we continued playing, I heard the song “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” start playing, and I hummed along. After I heard the line – There’s a tree in the grand hotel, one in the park as well, the sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow – I had a thought pop into my head. The lyrics reminded me of another certain something, more like someone, who also was sturdy and didn’t mind the snow… and was also prickly, like the tree. Then I got the image of Logan in a tree costume, with garlands, lights, and presents, standing in the middle of a tree patch, smoking his cigar. Then I couldn’t help but smirk, which eventually led to a giggle I had to hide behind my hand.

“Oh no you don’t, Rogue-y. What’s going on in that devious little head of yours?” Jubilee asked, eyeing me with her own devious expression.

I just smiled. “Abso-tively poso-lutely nothing.” Nobody believed me. They hounded me until I spilled.

“Alright!” I acquiesced. “You heard the song ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,’ right?” they nodded, “well there’s the part that talks about the Christmas trees, you know: There’s a tree in the grand hotel, one in the park as well, the sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow. Well, for whatever reason… I pictured Logan as one of the trees.” Obviously they laughed, we all did, but Kitty caught on.

“You know, that actually made sense. He is kind of prickly, like a tree.”

“Yeah, with all that hair,” Jubes wiggled her eyebrows, “And he’s definitely sturdy like any of those trees. I mean, have you seen those muscles? And being grafted in adamantium doesn’t hurt either.”

I smiled. “Yeah, but have you noticed how often he just stands outside in the snow? I mean, I’ve seen him stand there for hours it seems.”

Bobby just smiled and shook his head, “That’s a good one, Rogue, but only you could get away with referencing him like that.”

We all agreed and went back to the game. A few turns later and it was Kitty’s turn. I noticed that she had only four cards. She flipped them all over and laid them down on the pile.

“Four kings.” She calmly folded her hands on the table at smiled at us all.

The boys were shocked.

“I don’ tink dat’s possible, chere,” (Remy said, a bit skeptically).

“No way!” Bobby said, “I call Bullshit.”

Rather smugly, Kitty said, “are you sure you want to call that, Bobby? You know how bad of a liar I am.”

Bobby said, “Yeah, but there is no way you have four kings.”

“Alright,” She shrugged and turned four kings over. Everyone was grumbling, not believing that sweet, innocent, Kitty Pryde won the card game, Bullshit.

After a bit of grumbling, we all split to do our own thing. I decided to head back to my room to read a book I picked up that was, quite frankly, really hard to put down. As I got closer to one of the balconies, I smelled cigar smoke. Professor had helped teach me to recall mutations I had previously sucked in. I can recall anything, though I can’t keep anything permanently without putting a lot of strain on my body. So I can heal cuts and bruises, but I can’t keep it. Needless to say, I use Logan’s enhanced senses a lot. Smiling at this particular flavor – one of the good ones; the Logan in my head said he must be in a good mood – I turned and leaned on the doorway to the balcony.

Not often getting the chance to look my fill, I took it now. He was standing, looking at the stars and moon in the distance. His right hand was tucked into his jeans’ pocket and his other was holding the cigar. Although I couldn’t see his face, I didn’t think he was upset or stressed about anything: his shoulders were relaxed, resulting in a relaxed posture. But don’t think I was looking at him as a shrink – I’m a woman, I notice other things too. Like how his flannel shirt was snug on the shoulders and the hand in his pocket was holding back the corner. When he lifted his well-muscled arms, I could see that he had rolled up his shirt sleeves, probably so that his arms wouldn’t feel so constricted – not that they were that muscular, just that sleeves can be bothersome and they can get in the way, especially of those claws. Continuing downward, I couldn’t help but notice the ever-famous painted-on jeans. I mean, no man should be comfortable in jeans that fit that nicely, but it hardly leaves anything to the imagination.

Just as my thoughts started in that direction, a voice piped up: “You gonna keep standing there, or you gonna join me out here?”

I smiled and pushed from the doorjamb. I stood beside him and turned my head, “Come on, now, you can’t blame me. Hell, the entire female population gets to ogle you and you call me out on it? Not fair.” I huffed, though it was without any true feeling behind it; nothing but humor. Keeping in light, that’s me.

He turned his head, just a bit, and cocked an eyebrow while trying to hide that smile of his: “Uh huh, sure kid. You of all people should know what I’m like. And that alone should have you running for the hills and becoming a nun.”

I laughed. “Good one. But, we have a history, you and I. And I, of all people, should be allowed to ogle you any time I want.” At this, threw my right arm out to signify the whole world. Being theatrical helps to keep it light, you know. “I mean, I am one of the very few to actually survive getting stabbed by the famous Wolverine.” He kept looking at me with that cocked eyebrow, but he was losing the fight with the smile. “Besides, I about killed you, once or twice.” I winked at him. “Either way you want to slice it,” I turned to face him with my arms folded and a cocky smile, “I figure you owe me.”

He looked at me this time, rising to my challenge, and asked: “So does that mean I get to ogle you whenever I want?” I couldn’t help the way my body reacted to that, getting all warm and tingly, my stomach filling with hopeful, annoying little butterflies, but there was no way he could mean it… no way… keep it light, Rogue.

I uncrossed my arms and shrugged in what I hoped was a blasé way and replied: “Sugar, I don’t know what stopped you before.” Then I added a saucy little wink.

He just chuckled and shook his head, having lost the fight with the smile. He turned to face the night sky once again and took a drag of his cigar. I followed suit, sort of, and leaned against the balcony, looking at the stars as well. And we just sat there for a while, enjoying the silence between the two of us, and staring at the stars. I wasn’t going to let myself over-analyze what had just happened because I knew it would ruin the relaxed feeling. Later; I could analyze and freak over it later. Further distracting myself, I started to look down, to the tree line, then around it, getting closer to the mansion. I noticed some of the pine trees closer to the mansion had been decorated… and it had started to snow… I couldn’t help but smile and try to hide my giggle – again – and failing miserably – again, because that arched eyebrow turned on to my face.

“Something else you wanna say?”

I tried for an expression of calm innocence. Then I saw the snowflakes on the prickly points his hairstyle was known for… and lost it.

Now he was looking at me skeptically. “Ok, kid, spill.”

I straightened up and took a deep breath. “Ok, so we were playing cards with the radio on a Christmas station. Well, this song comes on. It’s called ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,’ and there’s a part in there that goes: There’s a tree in the grand hotel, one in the park as well, the sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow,” to give myself credit, I actually sang it and managed to keep in tune. “Well, the part about note minding the snow kind of made me think of you… and then the ‘sturdy’ part fit you as well… and your hair is kind of prickly…” by the time I had finished I had this look of ‘you-know-you’d-miss-me-please-don’t-kill-me. Though I know he wouldn’t… I hoped.

He looked at me weirdly – I really didn’t know what to make of it – then that eyebrow reached towards his hairline again as he replied: “You think I’m like a pine tree?”

I shrugged sheepishly. “Well, kinda… well, think about it. Most Christmas trees keep their needles all year round – not changing for any of the seasons. I mean, yeah, you occasionally go off on one of your trips, but if we really need you, you’re there. And then you stay until you either feel the need to take off, or we send you off, but not without making sure we all are okay. And you’re stubborn, almost to a fault: the sturdy part. The rest kind of speaks for itself: I mean, you’re not the sweetest person right off the bat, and when someone meets you, all they usually get is the prickly side, at best. At worst, well, Mystique has scars to show that. But, have you ever smelled a pine tree? It’s one of my personal favorite scents; it’s not necessarily sweet, and it’s not spicy, but it’s not hard on the nose and just smells really… nice.” I blushed at this, not realizing until now how closely the two resembled each other. Then I noticed the piling snowflakes on his hair, and reached up to brush some off as I finished: “And look: we’re standing out here, in the middle of a snow shower, and you haven’t once thought about going inside. I mean, you have piles on top of you.”

It wasn’t until I finished and looked at his eyes to see how mad he was, that I realized how close I had gotten. Neither of us is very tall, but I did have to reach a ways to brush off some of the snow, so naturally I had moved closer… And now there’s barely any space between us and all I can stare at are his hazel eyes – it’s because of him I like that color and tonight they seemed extra hazel-y… and deep. I’m trying not to look anxious or scared because I know, no matter how strong he is, he can be very skittish. So much for keeping it light.

So I just stood there, waiting for something to happen, while we both looked each other over – well, our faces at least. I noticed his eyes often went to my lips, and I fought very hard to smile like a Cheshire cat. Now, I wanted to be closure, but where to put my hands?!
I settled for, slowly, reaching for his face. I cupped his cheek in mine. Even though I could control my skin, skin-to-skin contact still brought a rush to me and to this day, my favorite place to touch is right there: his muttonchops and beard make it prickly, but underneath all that is very smooth, very warm skin. And oh, does it do wonders to my libido. So there I stood, holding his cheek, and looking into his eyes… that closed.

And now he’s nuzzling my hand… and oh, I knew those arms were strong but, wow, to be held this close and oh he’s so nice and strong and warm… my other hand just lands on his chest as he pulls me closer. Now I’m feeling vibrations… is he growling… no, he’s purring! That puts a smile on my face and if I wasn’t happy and relaxed before, I was now.
Soon, though, his face stops moving and his eyes open to meet mine. Still my favorite hazel, still just as dark, and oh, so intense. I don’t quite understand what I see there, but I know I have to try. So I reach with my other hand to hold his face and I slowly bring it down to my rising face…

… And our lips met. My eyes had closed just before we kissed, but oh what a kiss. Not hard and fast, but very nice and soothing, just like him… in a horny sort of way because my libido was definitely doing a happy dance. But that kiss melted me straight to my toes; I’m not surprised I ended up leaning on him completely. But he seemed more than happy to hold me, seeing as his arms squeezed tighter, if that was possible. We kissed for a while, nothing fancy, but definitely memorable, and then slowly pulled apart for air.

I opened my eyes as far as they would go – which wasn’t much – and if what I saw was any indication, then he liked that kiss just as much as I did. I had never felt this peaceful – and he was still purring, though just ever so slightly. I just watched him, watching me, watching him right back, for what seemed like forever. Then, I noticed the snow on his shoulders, how much had gathered… and how very snow-less I was. I reached up to brush some snow off and smiled.

“See?” I said, “You even keep the snow off of me, just like any other Christmas tree would.”

He smiled and chuckled a bit, before answering, “Yeah, but you’d have to get under the branches first.”

I looked at him and really smiled. “I’m in your arms, aren’t I?”

He tilted his head back and looked at me – what he could see, anyway – and really looked at me. I mean, his eyes had never been that clear or open and I knew he was really seeing me: not as a child, or something to protect or shield, not even as a woman, necessarily, but as me and I’m pretty sure that is a good thing.

Then he smiled and said, “yeah… yeah, you are.” Then he pushed my head against his chest and laid his head atop mine, and we stood there watching the stars.

When we finally decided to leave the balcony it was still snowing, though it seemed most everyone else was in bed. Quietly, we walked to my room, with it being closer and all. We reached the door, and as I was about to open it, he caught my arm, causing me to turn around and face him.
His hand reached for my face and I held his wrist with my own, trying to keep his hand there. I leaned into is hand, sort of letting him hold some of the weight. He had the tenderest expression I had ever seen… so I closed my eyes, nuzzling his hand to show him that I wanted this… that I trusted him. Then I felt his lips on mine. I smiled at the surprise and responded in kind, letting him lead but not without showing him how much I was enjoying it. We pulled apart – damn you, oxygen – and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a smile that big on his face before… it must have been infectious because I was sporting one too.

Then, knowing I had to, I turned to open the door. I walked in and turned to close it. I looked at him and he smiled at me. I smiled back.

Then, ever so quietly, he said, “‘Night, Marie.”

My smile grew, if possible. I replied: “Good night, Logan.”

He nodded as I closed the door. I waited until his footsteps retreated and I heard his door open and close before I got ready for bed. I crawled into bed, facing the window. The snow was still coming down, and when I got a whiff of my air freshener – “Fresh Balsam,” thank you Bath and Body Works – I smiled as the night flashed through my mind, accompanied by the ending lyrics to that song:

Soon the bells will start
And the thing that will make them ring,
Is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart

Sure it’s Christmas, once more

“Good night, my sturdy Christmas tree.”