By the time Marie came down Logan had already plundered the depths of the sub zero fridge and pantry and had steaks and potatoes cooking on the industrial steel monstrosity that he’d discovered was a 12 burner gas grill on the deck next to the kitchen. A beer in one hand and a fork to jab the meat with in the other, a flashy infinity pool behind him and the moon over the ocean.
Not so bad, still too fucking hot.
It got much better when Marie padded bare foot onto the deck in a Maple Leaves t-shirt and a ridiculously short pair of gym shorts. He was momentarily fascinated by the curve of the back of her thighs and the discovery or more delicious freckles as she leaned over the grill to inspect his handiwork.
“I doubt Warren has ever even used this thing,” she commented, then leaned away to smile at him.
“I seriously doubt he even knows he has it. Maybe the help fire it up when Master’s in town.”
“Logan, you really need to drop that sneer in your voice whenever you talk about Warren. He’s not a bad guy just because he’d loaded.” She walked away to sit at the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the water.
“I know he’s not. I just think all this money’s made him soft. He doesn’t know what it’s like out in the real world.” He grunted, flipping the steaks onto a plate to let them finish cooking. The potatoes would need a few more minutes, so he closed the lid and went to sit next to her. Rolling up his jeans a few inches he dropped his feet into the pool also.
“Hmm, the real world," she mused. "A place like this is to escape the real world.” Marie turned to Logan, a serious expression on her face. “It’s why I came here.” She sighed a little sadly and twirled her feet idly in the water. He watched as ripples formed around her slim ankles. “We don’t exactly live in the real world either. We’re lucky to have Xavier, the school, the resources. He’s rich too, y’know.” She nudged Logan in the ribs with her elbow.
“Yeh, Chuck’s not soft that’s for sure. We don’t exactly live in the suburbs and drive mini-vans, do we? We live with people who are like us, not like the rest of them,” and he gestured to the ocean, indicating the whole wide world. “Other mutants have to hide everyday in the real world, surrounded by people who could and would hurt them if they knew what they really were.”
“I hid every day in the mansion.” She said it so quietly, he almost missed it. “Every day, I hid under layers of clothes, hid from everyone, even my friends, scared I would accidentally hurt them, and hurt myself by stealing something of theirs I wasn’t meant to have.”
He nudged her with his shoulder, “Kid… you know you never had to hide with me.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, stirring the still water with her feet, watching the reflections of the moving water gyrate slowly through the patio lights. “I never did, Logan. Only with you did I ever feel like myself.” She turned her head and rested her chin on his shoulder and spoke into his cheek, “I think I’m afraid of letting anyone else get that close now that I can touch. I don’t want to lose this special friendship we have to a crowd.”
He turned his head a fraction of an inch so he could look into her eyes. Her lips were so close, if he leaned down just a bit he could’ve kissed her. He wanted to, but that word “friendship” hung over his head like a sword. He was her friend and she was his. As desirable as she was, he was her friend first and foremost and would have to remain that way. Besides, he wasn’t the right sort of man to be with her, too old, too crazy in the head, too mean.
“You won’t kid, you can count on that.”
“Promise?” Her lips arced in a slight smile and he saw a flash in her eyes of merriment.
“I promise.” He pressed a swift kiss to her forehead. “I think the potatoes are ready.”
He stood up and held out a hand to pull her with him. No matter how casually she did it, he definitely got a jolt whenever her bare hand touch his skin. A good jolt that he felt in the pit of his stomach, not the kind she used to leave him with that resulted in a 3 day stay in the medbay.
Despite Logan’s insistence that potatoes and steak was perfectly balanced meal, Marie insisted on making a salad, or what he called “rabbit food.” He followed her back to the kitchen as she pulled a dizzying array of colorful vegetables from the fridge and set about washing the lettuce. He sat on the counter and watched her as she stood over the sink rinsing the leaves under the spigot. He was enjoying the view immensely, the way she swayed her hips in time with the country song playing on the satellite radio over the sink. The flex and release of muscles under her calves as she shifted her weight. The adorable curve of her tush peeking at him from under her shorts. His eyes lingered on back of one knee, memorizing every freckle there.
Suddenly seized with a wicked idea, he grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and popped it, nailing her right on the ass. Marie shrieked and jumped, dropping the head of lettuce into the sink. “Logan!” she chastised.
“Consider it one more thing you’ve just done for the first time. I doubt anyone chased you around the locker room at the mansion popping you with a towel.” He grinned rakishly at her, canines flashing.
The sink sprayer appeared in her hand and he held up his in mock surrender. “And I haven’t done this before either.” She shot him in the face with a surprisingly powerful jet of water. Shaking his head like a shaggy dog, he leapt off the counter and popped the towel at her again, this time nailing her on the inside of her right thigh. Marie shrieked and tried to spray him again, but he darted to the side just in time, giving her a resounding crack to her shin this time. Marie threw the head of lettuce at him and took off at a sprint when he impaled it on his claws. Screaming with laughter she ran around the giant living room as he chased her, popping her with the now wet towel. He let her run for a minute, then jumped over the sofa and pounced on her, knocking into a pile of pillows by the fireplace, where she collapsed in giggles.
“Ready to give up?” He stood over her, towel aimed and ready to fire at the exposed expanse of flesh from where her shirt had ridden up. “Say uncle!”
“Never” she gasped from her prone position.
“Alright, you asked for it.” But instead of snapping her with the towel he swiftly bent down and dug his fingers into her side. “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” she shrilled. Apparently Marie was damn ticklish. He hadn’t known that before and maybe she hadn’t either. “Say uncle!” he demanded. Tears streaming from her eyes, she batted in effectually at him kneeling over her as she simultaneously tried to protect her stomach from his grip.
“Uncle! Uncle! Oh god, uncle!” she screamed with laugher.
Satisfied he’d won the battle he gave one last good dig into her ribs before he stood up and walked back to the kitchen. Panting, hair disheveled into a cute mess, Rogue padded after him and said, “Just for that, you can chop the vegetables.” Which he did in less than one minute, thanks to 54 inches of adamantium.
After a dinner Marie conjured from the ceiling of the living room, with a remote control so complex Logan was sure it was used to launch spacecraft, the biggest high-def television he'd had ever seen. When she flipped to the pre-show for the Stanley Cup semi-finals on the satellite TV he announced he was moving in and Warren was just going to have to gesuck it up.
“It’s like you’re at the game, shit, look at that,” he gestured to the screen, almost knocking over Rogue’s beer.
“I think you’re the one who’s gone soft,” she responded as she rescued her drink from its perilous position at the edge of the table. He hushed her as the announcer starting calling out the starters. Once they were settled in for the face-off brought with a giant bowl of popcorn and cold Canadian Lagers it was officially hockey night. And no Scott around to tell them to quit swearing in front of the students or students bitching about them hogging the rec room TV. So they cursed and cheered and second guessed both coaches’ plays to their hearts’ content. Once the Maple Leaves has soundly won the first of seven 4-1, Marie did a victory dance on the sofa, bouncing back and forth over Logan’s legs, mangling the Canadian national anthem.
Then it was time for a movie, because Friday was always movie night for them. Marie pulled up the On Demand and demonstrated to Logan that DVDs were now as obsolete as the dinosaurs. He wasn’t impressed and pointed out if you ever wanted to watch it more than once you had to pay for it again, like Terminator, which they’d both seen about 20 times. She countered that he wouldn’t have his closet crammed with discs falling all over of the place and missing their boxes. He asked what she was doing in his closet. She reminded him that she was the one who did his laundry most of the time since he didn’t bother until his pants walked themselves across the floor and threw themselves into the hamper.
“We sound like an old married couple, Christ,” he sulked at her jibe.
“If we do, then that means I get to pick the movie since we just watched sports.” Logan groaned into his hand and silently hoped she wouldn’t pick a stupid romantic comedy. Much to his relief, his girl did not disappoint him and settled on an action movie called “Taken” about some retired government operative whose daughter was sold into slavery overseas and the dad went on a European tour of bone breaking and mayhem.
Logan could relate to how the guy felt, even though Marie wasn’t his daughter (thank god), he’d break any damn law and disembowel any fucker stupid enough to get in his way if she was ever in danger. He looked down at her head, which had been resting on his right thigh since the opening credits, and his hand, which was absent-mindedly playing with her hair. Normally he wore gloves just to make her feel better, and he wasn’t this time, didn’t have to.
Keeping an eye on her face, her eyes were glued to a daring car chase, Logan slid his fingers deeper into her silky hair and massaged her scalp. Marie’s eyes closed briefly then she murmured, “Mmmm.” Then she went back to watching the movie.
Logan kept that up for a few minutes, looking back and forth from the movie in front of him and the small slice of her face he could see. She seemed completely unconcerned by his touch, so he moved his hand down from the top of her head and slowly over, still stroking, until he was at the back of her neck. He gently kneaded the small V of muscles that ran from the base of her slender neck to her hairline, and splayed his fingers to sweep the incredibly soft flesh on each side. She shifted a bit closer to him, turning her head slightly to expose more of her neck to his ministrations.
After a few minutes, Logan saw she was once again engrossed in the movie, he stopped massaging and just started to lightly sweep his fingers back and forth over small areas of that white column, feeling goose bumps rise, then fall, then reappear. By the time the movie ended and the credits rolled, Logan felt he knew Marie’s neck as intimately as he knew the back of his own hand. She appeared to be sleeping now, her eyes closed and her breath coming slow and steady.
He made a gentle movement to slide out from under her in preparation for carrying her off to her bedroom to tuck her in, when she said, “Don’t move.” He froze as she stretched and yawned then rolled over to look up at him. “Mmmmmm, that felt good.” Her voice was rough with sleep, making it lower and incredibly sexy.
Instantly he felt a stirring in his groin, too close to her head for his comfort. To distract her, he said, “Thank kid. Y’know I’m the best there is at-“
“Stop-“ she held up a hand, waving off the rest of his words as his usual bad joke. “That was really nice, I never felt anything like that before. I couldn’t.” Her soft smile and half-lidded eyes were making his head swim.
“Yeh, well, “ Logan cleared his throat, “There plenty of time for you to learn about all the stuff that…uh…feels good.” He coughed, slammed down the rest of his beer and prayed she wouldn’t notice the raging hard-on that was only inches from her face.
She stretched again, a back popping cat stretch across his legs the brought her arms up over her head. Her back arched and forced her perfect breasts against her t-shirt as she flexed all the way down to her delicately pointed toes. Logan thought he’d never seen anything as erotic in his entire life. “Mmmmmmmm,” she moaned through the stretch, “can’t wait.” Then she sat up and hopped off the sofa. “Nite Logan,” she said softly as she grabbed the empty popcorn bowl and headed to the kitchen.
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