The Xavier Mansion

She wasn’t in her room.

Logan padded silently through the house, following her scent. Ignoring the curious looks from the students, ignoring the curious looks from some of the newer staff. They wanted to say anything about him and Marie, they were welcome to try: She’d been graduated more’n a year. It had been three hours since she’d gotten out of Hank’s office and she still hadn’t come to see him. That alone made him nervous, even if he didn‘t wanna admit it. She always came to see him after she’d been through a fight. But tonight-The Kid wasn’t some little scaredy-cat who hauled ass at the first sign o’ trouble, he liked that about her, but she’d gone ten rounds with Sabre-tooth, and that’d put a dent in anybody’s armour. Lethal, life-sucking skin or not.

He pictured the look on her face when she’d made skin-on-skin contact with Creed that first time, and immediately felt sick to his stomach. He’d never wanted her to see the things Victor Creed was capable of.

Or the things he’d helped him do.

He could hear her crying from outside his door, when he finally caught her scent. She was giving out tiny, broken little sobs, the air about her perfumed with her distress. He pushed open the door to find her curled in a little ball in his favourite chair, her arms and legs pulled tightly about herself like she expected to be attacked at any minute. Her dressing gown almost hanging offa her shoulders, her little feet bare. Face scrunched up in so much pain he wasn’t sure how she could stand it. The bandages on her wrists and shoulder were ghostly against her flesh, and she was shaking so hard he was surprised she didn’t break apart right there where she was sitting.

This was a lot worse than he’d thought.

He crouched down in front of her, pulling the comforter off the bed to wrap around her shoulders. Chafed his hands against her arms, trying to warm her up. Pushed the hair back off her forehead, his hands coming to rest at the back of her neck, and that seemed to be all the encouragement she needed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close and within seconds she was curled in his lap, crying. Muttering desperate, longing, aching somethings so fast he couldn’t make out. For a second he was awkward, all fingers and thumbs and confusion. And then he began to rock her, his hands supporting her under her arms. Taking her weight onto himself and pulling her closer. Closer then closer still.

“It’s alright, Marie,” he whispered gently, “It’s okay, I got ya-”

He could feel her breath hitching in her throat then. Feel the sobs ease. She seemed so small, so fragile in his arms that he had to hold her tighter. It just wouldn’t be right to do anything else. He wanted to tell her to buck up, to offer her a beer and a sneaked night down at the Whiskey Trap like he normally did when she was poorly, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Creed had nearly killed her; in fact if Storm hadn’t gotten there in time he probably would have. He’d said later that he could smell Logan on her, that it was why he knew he had to take her out. “You know, little brother,” he’d crooned as he was led away, “I think she mighta liked me. Pretty little piece o’ flesh like that. Think I might have t’come back a-wooing, come May-”

It had taken Hank, Kurt, Storm, Colossus and Warren to pull him off the bastard. And if they hadn’t been there, he wasn’t sure what he’d have done to his former brother for laying hands on his Marie.

He realised that she’d stopped crying then.

She was staring at him now, her gaze intense and curious despite her red face. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she stopped him. Laid a careful finger against his lips, the flesh cool and soft. Suddenly what had started as an attempt to calm her seemed to be turning into something else. Something… unexpected. Something that was the last thing either of them needed, after a near-death experience.

Logan might have been a bastard but he was smart enough to know that.

“Marie-” he began awkwardly then, but she shook her head, silencing him. Shifting herself so that she was even closer to him, though her hands weren’t roaming. Yet.

“Just need ya t’be quiet for a minute, sugah,” she murmured instead. “Can you do that for me?” And those chocolate brown eyes gazed at him from beneath lowered lashes, her voice dropping to a deeper pitch he hadn’t known it possessed.

I could do anything fer you, he was tempted to tell her. But given their current situation, he didn’t think it’d be wise. To start encouraging her. Or maybe to encourage himself. So instead he nodded, muttering a gruff, “Sure.” Holding still like he would do fer Hank or Jeannie. Hoping that would be the end of the matter-

But then hope was fer morons. Everyone knew that.

Because Marie closed her eyes tighter, letting her fingers trail down his face, the contact too brief to really hurt him. Just tantalizingly long enough to cause a tingle underneath his skin. Her breath was warming against his throat, her nose ghosting softly across his nose, his cheek, his Adam’s apple. Her movements so careful, so gentle, that you’d think he was the fragile one and she the dangerous risk. Without quite willing them to Logan’s hands drifted up her arms, the touch equally light, equally tender. His breath coming in deep and sharp now, his fingers drawing circles on her arms. She shifted again, murmuring something too quick to make out, one knee going on either side of him. Holding him in place, holding him to her. They were glued together practically from hip to chest now, and despite the intervening layers of cloth Logan knew he was going too far with this, knew something was gonna haveta give-

And yet, he couldn’t smell any arousal coming offa her. Her actions, so provocative coming from a grown woman, were entirely innocent. To her, at least.

Aw, Hell.

Logan shifted then, looked at her face for the first time since this had started. Using every sense he possessed to guess why she was acting as she was. Because clearly, she wasn’t trying to seduce him; This wasn’t about sex. It mighta been about the other shit besides sex a man finds with a woman, but it certainly wasn’t about making the bed-springs hum. She seemed to be searching for something, her face curious despite her closed eyes, her touch questioning. All of her attention focussed on him, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be happy with her dividing that attention again after this. But aside from that her actions were a mystery to him. As was she. He was tempted to ask her what it was she was looking for, but he didn’t: That would involve talking, breaking this thing between them here, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted the moment that came after This Moment to arrive just yet. In fact, if he were being honest, he knew he didn’t.

She sighed gently then.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Voice breathless. Her hands were now resting on his cheeks, the fingers warm against his mutton-chops. She laid her forehead briefly against his, exhaling, and Logan suddenly realised he’d been holding his breath. “Ah- Ah couldn’t make him quiet on mah own,” she continued, chagrined. “Sorry.”

“Sabretooth?” he guessed. He didn’t wanna say the name, felt like a profanity said in front of her, but he had to. “Was it-”

“Yeah. Ah could see mahself through his eyes when he hurt me. Feel what he wanted t’do t’me-” And she shook her head. For a second it looked like she was gonna cry, the smell of salt tears hanging on the air but then she seemed to pull herself together. “The Wolverine in mah head howled at him ‘til he quit his yellin’,” she murmured instead, smiling though it was strained, going to move away. Logan belatedly realised that he was holding her in place, way tighter than he should have been. Her shoulder-blades felt fragile as porcelain beneath his hands. “You can let me go, Logan,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “Ah ain’t in danger any more, you’ve seen t’that-”

“So that’s why you wanted me to touch you?”

He coulda kicked himself fer saying that.

Fer inviting a conversation that couldn’t end well. Fer practically telling her that he’d had another reason altogether in mind fer her actions. But she just nodded, eyes open and honest. She seemed mercifully unaware that there were many, many other reasons a woman usually wanted to touch him, ranging from teenage kicks to compulsive loneliness, and all the weird-shit happenstance of human existence in between. He hadn’t had anyone simply want him to hold them in all the years he remembered being upon this wretched earth, and in that one way at least, she was his first. He realised he liked that.

A beat.

“Ah needed you inside me,” she murmured then, eyes still widely innocent. No idea how damn seductive what she’d just said was. “He was trying t’take over, him’n Eric-” Her face creased with pain now. “You shut ‘em up, just like you always do.” And then, panicked- “Ah didn’t hurt ya, did Ah?”

She was actually worried about him, after everything she‘d just been through? Suddenly his throat was scratchy. “No, darlin’,” he practically growled. “No, course not.”

“Good.” Her eyes had widened at his words- It was the first time he’d ever called her darlin‘- and for a full second they just stared at one another. Half his brain wanting to touch her again, and the other half screaming at him to let her walk away with her innocence intact. Maybe she saw the conflict in his face because she shifted herself suddenly, moving so that she was perched on the arm of the chair. It was an invitation for him to stand up and he took it. His skin felt cold without her nearness, and Logan let that be his cue to exit. Getting to his feet quickly, awkwardly, and then gesturing for her to take the seat.

“I’ll make sure they keep you some dinner,” he rumbled. Hand dragging through his hair, going to the back of his neck. “I know you always need space after-” And he gestured randomly. Not sure how to mention the mental effects of her mutation without talking about what they’d just done. Marie nodded distractedly, her expression equally awkward. Her gaze fastened on the chair’s footstool as if the fate of the entire universe depended upon her examining its position in the room from every possible angle.

Another beat.

“Sure,” she muttered then, eyes not meeting his. “Ah’d appreciate that. Be down later.” And she slid herself down into the chair, where Logan had previously been sitting. Her face now pensive in the lamplight, as he pulled the door quietly shut. All he could smell from her as he walked away was confusion, worry, maybe even annoyance. The incident had upset her somehow, though he knew better than to push tonight and try to find out why. After all, the last thing either of them needed was to think about touching one another. Little darlin’ had enough problems and worries, without adding him into the mix. Logan nodded firmly to himself, ordering his body to calm down and not remember her melded against him. He’d go out tonight when the kids were asleep and find himself a prospect. A blond, blue-eyed. A looker, with a bit of experience. Someone who knew what touching a man got you into. Someone who wouldn’t ask him to hold her, because- Well, maybe that was just fer him and Marie. Logan nodded to himself, happy with his plan of action and headed for the kitchen. He’d tell the cook about Marie and then head off. Get this outta his system. Because nothing had changed, nothing had happened-

Except that, upstairs in his room, sitting in his chair, Marie had made a realisation.

Her friends were right, he wanted her. And for the first time in the two years she’d known him- It occurred to her that she might want him too. She stared at her bare hands, practically burning where she had touched him. Felt that growling lust-and-trust presence of Logan moving beneath her skin. She’d just wanted his help, just wanted to silence Victor and now- Now she couldn’t un-know that she wanted him. Just like she couldn’t un-know that he wanted her. It was a disaster, or maybe a miracle, she just couldn’t decide which.

“Aw, crap,” Marie muttered into the silence.

The Wolverine in her head just growled.