"What's up, Chuck? Did I scare the kids too much for your liking?" Logan leaned lazily against the wall of the professor's study, his arms crossed over his chest while Rogue stood near him with the baby seat in hand.

"No, Logan. But I'm quite impressed by your performance." Charles hadn't thought that the feral man could respond with so much sensitivity to the students' awkwardness – fine he had growled most of the time and never left a student off the hook, before they spilled their embarrassing questions, but soon the children were addressing their questions to Logan and not longer to Jean, who had restricted her explanations mainly to various contraception methods, not their flaws.

The professor's grey-blue eyes wandered over to the young mother, taking in the gloves she wore. Storm had informed him about the girl's break down during the former night. "Rogue, how are you?"

She saw his gaze linger on her covered hands and she sighed. "Umm, fine." Her voice became quieter and she shuffled her feet uncomfortably. "Ah'm still afraid to take mah gloves off." The concerned look on the older man's face made her stomach clench. "Ah know mah fear is stupid, but Ah feel safer with 'em."

Charles nodded and his eyes locked briefly with the redhead sitting in one of the chairs in front of his massive desk. Jean stood up and placed a sheet of paper on the tabletop before turning around to face the young parents. "Your baby needs a birth certificate." Her green eyes swapped over to the feral man. "We'd need your information as well, Logan. That is if you still acknowledge your fatherhood."

His jaw tensed and a threatening growl rang from his chest as he pushed away from the wall. His dark eyes dug into the redhead and she took a step back as he approached the desk with his girls in tow. "The Kid's kid is mine." He smelled the sudden peak of fear in the woman's scent and the beast in him roared in satisfaction. "It's about time to make it official." At least as official as possible without having the police knocking on their door.

Charles felt the tension between all attendances and placed a ballpoint pen on top of the forms, his gentle smile beckoning the young brunette to come to him. "Rogue, you have your ID card I asked you to bring?"

Marie nodded and dug into her jeans' pocket, before placing the card onto the desktop next to the paper. Her eyes scanned the printed words on the sheet, the only handwritten information was her baby girl's birthday date, everything else was blank.

The professor cleared his throat and mentally told Jean to get started, ignoring Logan's glower on the woman.

The doctor flashed a smile towards the small baby and her mother and picked the pen up. She heard Logan walk closer and saw from the corner of her eyes him coming to a halt next to Rogue, their shoulders barley touching. "Does Becca have a middle name?" She eventually asked.

Both parents traded perplexed gazes. "Umm, give us a minute, Red."

"Ah ain't gonna repeat that game with ya, Logan." Determination sounded in the girl's voice as she faced him.

The Canadian eyed his daughter a moment. "How about Marie?"

The brunette widened her eyes. "Oh please, Logan! I hate that name."

"You do?" His brow was hitched in bewilderment and his view swept swiftly to the desk – or more precisely to the girl's ID. "What's with Anna?"

She narrowed her eyes in disgust. "That name is even worse than Marie."

"I think it's a nice name for a Southern Belle."

"Nah, they're both crappie." She saw the epiphany in his hazel orbs and contemplated the last sentences. 'Belle.' Whispered her inner Logan and a bright smile formed on her pink lips.

Logan observed her features with a smirk. "Do we think the same, Kid?"

"Guess yes." Marie faced the waiting doctor and professor. "Belle. With an 'e' at the end."

Jean followed the conversation in bewilderment and gazed over to the ID briefly. "Rebecca Belle D'Ancanto then." She saw the appreciating nod of the child's father. After scribbling down the name into the appropriated box, she looked up again. "Do you know the time of the birth by chance?"

"Umm, yeah. Must have been around 3:20 p.m.." Logan saw the curious gazes of the others center on him and he shrugged. "I took a look at the clock and figured that the Kid was half an eternity on the toilet. Was 3:15 or 16 then. And when I found her in the restroom Becca was already half way there." He smelled the happiness in his mate's scent and saw the smile tugging on her lips. It also warmed his heart to know that his daughter – despite the turbulent circumstances of her birth – will be able to learn of her big day one day, with all the little facts in their place.

"Place of birth?" Jean read aloud.

"Umm, the pizzeria at the Westchester Ave. Near the mall. What's the address again?" This time it was Rogue to answer and her questioning gaze centered on Logan.

"You ask me? It's your favorite restaurant." The man in question grumbled.

"Not anymore!" Marie turned three shades of red. "Never gonna set a foot into that place again." Logan's grin didn't help her embarrassment.

"I'm gonna google it." Jean suggested, knowing which restaurant they meant.

Marie gazed down on her peacefully sleeping daughter. "She'll scream when she sees her birth certificate." She threw a pleading look towards the redhead. "Can't we just say Ah gave birth here in the mansion's infirmary?"

"Why? And miss the fun to explain 'er why she was born in her mamma's favorite eating place?"

Marie narrowed her eyes on her mate in annoyance. "Ah'll leave that task to ya, Logan."

Meanwhile Jean had filled out all necessary information of Rogue from her ID card and was now looking expectantly to Logan. "Now is your turn, Logan."

The mutant stepped forward and picked the writing utensil up, taking a good look at the inquired information. "Great, there are only three fuckin' boxes for the father's identity and I can't complete even one of them!" The Canadian growled frustrated and threw the ballpoint pen onto the desk spinning around and stomping over towards the closest wall punching it hard – making the vase on the neighbored shelf shake.

Marie wasn't impressed by his display of his temper and rage and approached him, baby seat in one hand and reached for his fist with her free one. Running her thumb over his knuckles she ignored the vicious snarls. "Logan, it ain't true. Ya can say with most certainty that ya're a Canadian, most likely from around Alberta." His dark and feral eyes pierced into her face, but she could see his pain deep down in his orbs. "Ya are Becca's father, no matter what that stupid form wants to know." She held Logan's glare with her tender eyes and he eventually wrapped his arms around her slender frame, pulling her towards his chest. Marie still held the baby seat in one hand, but moved the other up his torso, resting it at the nape of his neck while he placed a kiss onto her head and buried his nose in her dark locks.

He felt the eyes of the other adults rest on them and their private moment. Taking a deep and calming breath Logan smelled the other scents in the room next to his mate's. He could tell that Jean had been a little scared by his outburst and now he could smell sadness coming from the redhead. 'Fuckin' Red's pityin' me.' He closed his eyes for a moment shutting out all other disturbing sensations, before opening them again and releasing the girl from his embrace. "Chuck, can you give my mind another try." Wolverine's now calm and controlled voice almost pleaded. "Find my last name." He approached the older man, his face wasn't as stern as usually. "Please."

Jean was stunned how serious and desperate the usually carefree, but gruff man was when it came to the fatherhood of Rogue's child – his child. A part of her wished those emotions were aimed towards her and not the teen.

Charles frowned slightly when he picked up on the sadness and almost jealousy coming from the doctor, but pushed these thoughts into the back of his mind, concentrating solely on Logan's demand. "I'm always glad to help, Logan. But your emotions are too … turbulent at the moment. I'd suggest you come to my study after dinner."

The Canadian nodded in thanks and picked his now awake daughter from her seat. Meanwhile Rogue had returned to the form on the professor's desk and was eagerly filling in the missing information. Suddenly she looked up, meeting her mate's gaze. "See here's more information about ya, we know: Race? Mother: white, Father: white. Hispanic: both 'no'." Now her features became sheepishly. "Education, only highest grade completed… great!"

Logan cradled his tiny daughter against his shoulder pressing a kiss to her salt and pepper hair, as he glanced over Marie's shoulder. "Put the eleven in, Kid. Won't get more if you keep staring at the paper."

"Humpf… Fine." Now her view was troubled again. "What shall Ah write in the next line?" The father's highest education. Most thought Logan dense and too stupid to follow a simple conversation, but Marie knew that her mate was extremely intelligent, speaking at least eight languages fluently and he knew his way around another eight.

The professor smiled reassuringly at the young parents. "Write a twelve in, Rogue." He faced the man in question with an amused sparkle in his eyes. "If someone wants to see your diploma, you are free to take the SATs together with Rogue." Logan grunted about the joke of the wheelchair bound man.

But the form wasn't finished yet and the young mother looked up more than troubled. "Huh, they want to know if anyone of the parents is a mutant or a known carrier of the X gene."

Wolverine gritted his teeth and a growl rumbled in his chest while he tightened his grip on his child in a protective manner. "What the fuck? They can't-"

"Logan, that's voluntarily. You don't have to tell them. They can't force you." Jean interrupted his rant.

"Yet." Logan spat in disgust.