“It’s a shame kids don’t stay kids for longer,” Marie said sadly, as she watched her son and daughter running through a training simulation in the danger room.
“I don’t know about that, there were a few times I was doubtful they would survive childhood,” Logan grumbled in amusement behind her.
Marie slapped his arm playfully in response. “Sure they try your patience sometimes... but the make up for it by being so sweet, I miss having little babies,” she replied wistfully, shooting a glance at her husband out of the corner of her eye.
“No,” Logan replied, “We’re too old for having little kids again,” he tried to reason when he saw his wife’s hinting look.
“Logan, we both heal and are consequently eternally young,” she responded with a laugh. “Besides... it’s too late,” she added, reaching up to place a kiss on his lips, before she turned around and fled the room.
“Are you serious?” Logan demanded, stomping into their room several hours later; he hadn’t been able to follow her at the time because he was supposed to be running the junior teams DR session.
Marie chewed her lip nervously, as she lay her pen down, and turned away from her lesson plans.
“I did the test this morning, I started to think something was up a few days ago... is this going to be a problem? I thought we were just accepting it when it happened, we haven’t been actively trying, sure...” she started to point out.
Logan grinned suddenly. “I guess I just figured it had been so long it wasn’t going to happen again, Ollie’s nineteen after all, and we haven’t exactly been *not* trying,” he chuckled when Marie still blushed at that, he loved that she could still look so adorably innocent at times.
“So, you’re okay with it?” Marie clarified.
“I am, are you?” Logan checked.
“Yeah, yeah I am,” Marie said, just as she heard the apartment door open, Rosalie and Oliver trailing in the door deep in some animated discussion. “Should we tell them now?” Marie whispered.
“Let’s tell them at dinner,” Logan replied with a wink, before slipping out for their bedroom.
--
“Ew, dad, can you keep these ones in you and mom’s room,” Rosalie said with a giggle, as she smiled down at Logan’s tablet he had left open on the dining room table.
“What’s wrong with it?” Logan asked, almost sounding offended.
“We’re all adults here dad, it’s kind of obvious she naked under that sheet,” Rosalie pointed out, closing the tablet as she pulled a face.
“So? Like you said, you’re adults, and there’s a sheet, what exactly is the problem?” Logan grumbled.
“It’s icky,” his daughter replied.
“Weirdo, it’s no different to if she’s covered in clothes fabric,” Oliver teased his sister, as he joined the family at the table for dinner.
“Speaking of weirdos, your mother and I have been talking and we’ve decided it’s time for one of you to move out, like Rosie said, you’re both adults now... and we need one of your rooms...” Logan said, trying to hide his grin at their two children’s confused looks. “For your new brother or sister,” he explained.
“Wait... what!?” Rosalie stuttered dumbfounded. “Oh my god, are you having another baby!?” she demanded excitedly a moment later, squealing when Marie smiled and nodded.
It was a few minutes into the loud and excited discussion that followed before Logan drew attention to Oliver, who was suddenly oddly quiet.
“And you thought drawings were icky,” Oliver said to Rosalie, “You realise that means they’ve been having sex, literally feet from our rooms,” he pointed out, looking mildly disgusted.
Rosalie stared at her brother for a moment. “... Oh, ew... why would you point that out! Gross, well, I am officially moving out,” she declared. “But I will totally babysit for you,” she added, diving back into excited conversation.
“You know you don’t actually have to move out right?” Marie interjected a moment later, “Your dad was just teasing.”
“Um, actually, this is kind of good timing, you see... well, I’ve already planned to, uh, to move in with... with Nathan,” Rosalie murmured hesitantly, trying to avoid looking at her father when a deep growl rumbled from his corner of the table.
“What?” Logan demanded.
“Please don’t be mad daddy,” Rosalie almost whispered, “We’ve been together a while now, this is like... a trial run, to see if we can handle living with each other and then, maybe, you know...”
“No, I don’t know, was the limp dick little twit going to grow a pair and do any of this the right way?” Logan growled furiously, “He’s been jerking you around for years Rosie, he should know what he wants by now and be able to come and damn well ask for it, not get you to do all the behind the scenes work for him.”
“Well, if you didn’t threaten him every time he came within ten feet of you, maybe he would try and talk to you,” Rosalie shouted back.
“I have never threatened him, not once,” Logan replied adamantly.
“DADDY how can you say that! The very first time he came to take me out on a date you used your claws to dissect the coffee table following the wood grain, then that time he came to pick me up for the winter ball, senior year, you spent ten minutes shining your claws while glaring at him while you explained to would be watching him all night, then there was the time in the danger room, when he caught me after I fell, and you put him the med lab by throwing a car at him! Do I need to go on?” Rosalie demanded in response.
“She’s not wrong,” Marie murmured in agreement, studiously ignoring the glare Logan sent in her direction.
“None of that was threatening the little twerp, and the car was an accident, I already said I didn’t know he was still standing there,” Logan grumbled, visibly sulking.
“You could also try referring to him by his name occasionally, you know, try and be somewhat civil,” Rosalie suggested.
Logan didn’t reply to that, simply went back to silently eating his dinner. Eventually conversation picked up again, and the prior conversation was pushed aside, seemingly even by Logan.
Later that night, long after everyone went to bed Marie was woken by a soft sound. The bed beside her was empty and she was not at all surprised to see Logan sitting in the window, a frown of concentration furrowed his brow as he worked. Leaving him in peace to draw, hoping it wasn’t a nightmare, Marie studied him in the dim light of the moon, catching the grin and wink he shot her at one point, before she eventually fell asleep again.
The next morning, as she was getting ready for her day, she spied Logan’s tablet sitting on the desk. Checking over he shoulder that Logan was still asleep, she flipped the book open.
“Logan!” she admonished her sleeping husband when she got a look at what he had been working on the night before.
“Not sorry,” Logan mumbled from the bed, even as Marie shook her head in amusement. She closed the book on the image, of her husband standing menacingly over their daughters sort-of boyfriend, as the weedy little twerp sat, beat up and cowering, in a puddle that she assumed was not water.
“Just don’t let Rosie see it,” she murmured a moment later, as she left to head for her first class. Logan wasn’t wrong, Rosalie definitely could do better than Scott and Jean Summers son, but sometimes, like in their own case, love was blind, and the odd pairings sometimes did work out. Who was she to dictate who her daughter could fall I love with.
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