On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me... a partridge in a pear tree...

Logan glared at the gift, not in the least gratified when it glared right back at him with it's beady little eyes and added an electronic trill, just to annoy him.

Christ, who in their right mind would send a woman -- *his* woman! -- a stuffed, battery-operated bird in a fake, fluffy tree? They had some sick little bastards running around the mansion, that was for sure.

He read the card again, snarled when there didn't appear to be any more words than the last time he'd checked, and shoved it back onto the bedside table, facedown. It read, simply, Love You. Who would send Marie, his wife, a gift with a note that read like a secret valentine?

Two years ago he'd have said Bobby, because the kid had always been around her, comforting her, soothing her, when by all rights that should've been his job! Never mind that he hadn't exactly known that they were in love back then, she'd still been a little too close to her 'pal' for his peace of mind. Now, of course, Bobby had Jenn, and by the looks of things, it was serious. Or at least, as serious as a relationship with the mansion's joker could be.

He thought a minute, wondered if it could've been Hank who'd sent it. Would've been just his style, and he'd always cared about Marie, in a more than friendly fashion, if you asked Logan's opinion. His scowl deepened as he remembered how the blue doctor's grin had always widened whenever Marie walked into the room, then a picture of Hank with his girlfriend Darry popped into his head, and he discarded the notion. No, Hank was too in love -- and involved -- with the newcomer to bother with sending presents to another man's wife.

That left the only other two men at the mansion for Christmas: Xavier, and Scott.

He automatically crossed Xavier off the list, simply because... well, it was ridiculous, of course. There was no way the old guy'd be interested in Marie, in *that* way. Then again... Logan *had* seen him watching her, perhaps the gaze he'd thought was paternal was in actual fact leering, longing? He shook that off and tried to push the idea out of his head. No, the man definitely thought of Marie as his daughter, no question about it. Hmm. Well, that was something to lock up into a little box and never think of again.

So it was Scott, then. But why would Scott, who was in love with his own wife, be sending a love letter to Marie, whom he supposedly regarded as his sister. Unless it was a sibling-ey gift?

He hid the foot-high tree-plus-bird beneath the bed -- with difficulty, he'd eventually had to push it onto it's side to get it to fit -- so Marie wouldn't see it, and welcomed her home from a long day of Christmas shopping with a soft kiss that quickly became hotter and longer, and continued in bed, under the sheets, with both parties naked, writhing, and moaning.

Long after Marie had fallen asleep on top of him, he stroked her hair and pondered the mystery of the strange present under the bed.

---

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... two turtle doves

He couldn't contain his growl when he opened their bedroom door the following day to find a statue of two white birds waiting just outside. Again, with the same message. Love You.

He snatched it up and quietly shut the door so as not to wake Marie, then shoved it under the bed with the other gift.

She stirred, then said, sleepily, "Logan, that you, sugar? You up already?"

He gave it a good kick just to make sure it stayed put, then jumped back into bed with his wife. He nuzzled her throat and playfully nipped at her collarbone. "Mmm, I'm up alright," he teased, trailing a hand up her thigh, "whatcha gonna do about it?"

She giggled and he forgot all about the gift until lunch.

He strode in and noticed her sitting with Bobby, noticed that the younger man's hand was on her arm, and felt absolutely certain that he was the one.

He narrowed his gaze as Bobby tapped his fingers on Marie's arm, and was just about to go over there and break every bone in his worthless little hand, when the kid looked up. Past him, towards the doorway, with a look of complete and utter... adoration.

Logan glanced over and saw Jenn, hair untidily rumpled, as always, looking around somewhat warily. She brightened when she noticed Bobby and Marie, and hurried over to them. She pressed a warm kiss to her boyfriend's mouth and Bobby smiled and pulled her onto his lap for a more thorough welcome.

He deflated then, realizing that Bobby would never do that Jenn, especially as he apparently felt platonically about Marie -- though who could have only friendly-feelings about her, with her being as gorgeous and sweet and kind and all-around wonderful as she was, he didn't know.

He walked over to the table and proceeded to show the Iceman how to properly greet the woman you love.

---

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... three French hens

He opened the door to find three more statue-type birds, this time brown, and once more shoved them under the bed before Marie could find it.

He knew she wouldn't leave him, knew she loved him, but still, she might wonder why *he'd* never done anything like that for her. And stealing someone else's ideas just didn't sit well with him, so there went the weird bird-thing. Besides, the gifts themselves made absolutely no sense -- birds?? Oh yeah, mutants were definitely *not* normal.

---

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... four colle birds...

More birds. Jesus. This time he didn't even bother to pick them up, just kicked them across the room until they slammed into the others under the bed.

He hoped the noise hadn't woken Marie, otherwise there'd be hell to pay. Beauty sleep was a requirement, not a luxury, she'd informed him. He snorted -- softly -- it wasn't as if she needed it, anyway.

But he padded silently to the bed and gingerly slipped beneath the covers to wrap himself around her -- better safe than sorry, after all.

---

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... five gold rings

Shit. This time the asshole was getting personal. And expensive. Rings, gold, five of them. He bared his teeth at the shiny pieces of jewelry, and blinked. It was strange, but they weren't as delicate as he'd thought. Or as small. In fact, they were kind of... Nah, he shook that thought right out of his head. That was beyond ludicrous; it bordered on insane.

He picked them up -- couldn't risk kicking them and having one roll somewhere for Marie to find it -- and was about to put them in the bedside drawer, when he changed his mind and slid them under the bed. Keep all the gifts together, he thought, and decided that was reasonable.

---

Logan glared at Hank at breakfast, for daring to smile at Marie -- who did he think he was, the Lothario of the mansion? That he could have his girlfriend *and* Marie, and probably any other woman he wanted? Bastard. How could the man he'd come to think of as a friend go after his wife like that?

He watched as Darry, tall, raven-haired, soon-to-have-her-heart-broken Darry walked over to Hank as though nothing was wrong. As though she hadn't just caught her boyfriend ogling another woman. A gorgeous, sexy, funny, brave woman who belonged to someone else.

He wanted to challenge Hank to a fight, beat the crap out of him in the name of love (though it should've been jealousy, that really didn't sound as noble), but he controlled himself. Barely. He sat down next to his wife, grabbed her hand possessively, and kissed her, a deep, wet, open-mouthed kiss that resulted in them having to rush out of the cafeteria to their bedroom, or become exhibitionists by making love on the floor in front of everyone not gone home for the holidays.

Later, much later, he noticed that Marie seemed a little... off. Sad, perhaps? He couldn't pin it down, and when he asked her, she merely shrugged and smiled a sad little smile and said it was nothing, really, just the holiday blues.

It sounded possible, but he didn't believe it for a second. Marie was a terrible liar.

---

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... six geese-a-laying

He had expected it, knew it would be there, but he nonetheless found it annoying as all hell when he found six *more* Goddamn birds (with eggs? sicko's.) waiting in the hall for Marie. Whoever this guy was, he was persistent.

After careful thought and consideration, Logan had scratched Hank off from his meager list. The guy cared about Marie, yeah, but he was a friend to them both, was incredibly loyal and trustworthy, and would *never* go after another man's woman. And of course there was also the fact that he seemed to be in love with his pyrokinetic girlfriend -- though why he *wasn't* in love with Marie was the main question of the day.

Then again, if he had been... no, it was better all round that he'd fallen for Darry. Of course, with Hank and Bobby both removed from the list, that once again left only Scott and the Professor, neither of whom seemed to view Marie as anything more than a close relative. The problem was discovering just how close to her they wanted to be.

He'd have to keep an eye on those two; he knew not to underestimate them just because they *seemed* harmless. Who knew what kind of sick and twisted scheme they were plotting?

---

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... seven swans-a-swimming

A snowglobe. With seven fucking birds looking down their beaks at him. He didn't even bother to read the note, instead crumpled it up and threw it down the hallway. He gnashed his teeth and snatched the globe up, glancing furtively up and down the corridor for any shady characters. There was no suspicious scent anywhere around; that was the most puzzling thing of all (aside from the identity of the culprit, of course). The only scent near the door that wasn't his, was Marie's, and that wasn't in the least questionable. Firstly because he trusted her implicitly, and secondly because she lived there, with him, and it was therefore natural for the clean, Marie-scent to be there.

He looked over at her, lying in their bed, dark hair spilling over the pillows, hand stretched over the empty space where he should have lain. Love surged through him as his gaze fastened on that one small, pale hand reaching out to him, and he thought that whoever had planned on stealing her away from him would have one hell of a battle on his hands.

Logan placed the newest gift under the bed, then slid in next to her, smoothing her hair and rubbing his lips over hers, temptingly, teasingly.

She stirred, then slowly opened her beautiful chocolate eyes to stare up at him. Her full lips curved into a smile so sweet that his heart stopped, rose a few inches in his chest, then fell back down with a thump and resumed beating.

"Merry Christmas, Logan," she breathed, tracing his mouth with the tips of her fingers.

Christmas? Oh, fuck. "Merry Christmas, baby," he said tenderly, smiling down at her, even while rebuking himself for becoming so involved with her Christmas valentine that he'd completely forgotten about the actual day. He'd bought presents weeks ago (to avoid the holiday rush, and the mass of people that accompanied said rush), but what kind of guy forgot Christmas day?

"I have something I want to give you... alone," Marie said, giving him a enticing flash of her bare legs as she slipped out of bed and walked over to the closet. She opened the smooth pine-wood doors and removed a packet from the bottom shelf, then closed the doors again and walked back to the bed.

Almost shyly, she handed him the nondescript, brown-paper bag and sat down next to him. He took it and stared at it for a few, long, seconds, wondering what, exactly, was inside. Perhaps lingerie for her to model for him -- that'd be a great gift, one they could both enjoy and-

"Well? Open it!" she bounced lightly, excitedly, on the bed, and he couldn't help himself -- his eyes followed the luscious movement of her breasts, the way they swayed with the motion and just begged for him to-

"Logan!" she laughed. "Please, I'm going crazy here, just empty the contents of the bag on the bed."

He forced his gaze back up to her dancing eyes, then stared down at the gift in his hands. He turned the bag over and saw several objects tumble out.

Marie picked them up, one by one, and handed them to him.

Eight women reaching underneath cows to do God-only-knew-what (he certainly didn't want to, and had never thought his wife enjoyed that kind of thing).

"Um," he said, "they're...?"

"Milking the cows. Eight maids a milking? No? Doesn't ring any bells?"

Didn't ring any bells for either of them, he thought with relief. Thank God.

He stared at the next ceramic statue. Nine women in fancy ballgowns caught in mid-twirl. "Very... artistic?" he tried.

"Nine ladies dancing. Still nothing? Okay, next one."

Oh God, this was worse than the women-with-animals one. Ten prissily-dressed men, five on their haunches, with the other five bending over them, preparing to... He swallowed and couldn't prevent a slight shudder.

"Very, uh, liberal," he said, not daring to look up at her. There must be some kind of explanation for *this* gift, because why would she give him ten men about to...?

She laughed, out-and-out laughed, and managed to choke out, "Ten lords-a-leaping. Leap-frogging, Logan, not... not, umm, getting it on."

"Hmph." Well, it was a perfectly normal mistake to make, under the circumstances. He quickly put that ceramic to one side, waiting until Marie had gotten herself under control enough to hand him the last two.

Hmm. Eleven men playing flutes -- and if that wasn't a homoerotic expression, he didn't know what was -- and twelve men drumming away.

"Eleven pipers piping, twelve drummers drumming?" she prompted and he shook his head. "Come on, Logan, I've been sending you a gift a day... you haven't figured it out? I mean, I know I thought there were only seven days, and so I had to give you five at once when I found out there were actually twelve, but-"

"Wait a second. *You've* been sending *me* those presents? And the notes?"

"Yeah. Who'd you think they were from? Or," she continued, gazing at him speculatively, "should I say for?"

Comprehension dawned, pitifully slow. Unfortunately, right along with it came the comprehension of his own stupidity. "It made sense at the time. I mean, it seemed obvious that you had a secret admirer-"

"With a death wish? I don't think anyone likes me enough to risk the wrath of the Wolverine," she teased, capturing his hand in both of hers. "I was wondering why you hadn't said anything about the gifts. Now I suppose the question is: even if someone else *had* been sending me them, why did you feel the need to hide them from me?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I thought..." he sighed. "I thought if you received them you'd wonder why *I* hadn't been the one to send them to you. Why the husband who loves you so much has never done anything like that for you."

Her expression softened. "I'd never have asked myself that. I know you, Logan. I know that you love me, and I know that you show me every day without having to say a word. I don't need presents to understand how you feel about me; it's there in everything you do, every move you make. But me? I tell you as often as I remember to, but I don't know if *you* understand just how much you mean to me. So I decided to send you a gift a day, based on the 12 Days of Christmas rhyme. I don't know, it seems foolish now, that something so small could explain the full extent of my feelings for you. But Logan, I do love you, more than anything, and anyone. You know that, right?"

He raised their joined hands to his lips and said, quietly, "I know. And I love you, more than anything, and anyone. God, I just... I want to give you everything. You deserve the moon and the stars, the sun in the sky, everything, baby. You deserve it all."

A tear slipped smoothly down her cheek to drop onto their entwined fingers. "I *have* it all. The sun and the moon and the stars, they're all there; when you look at me and I can see how much you love me, when you smile and it's so... tender, and I know you love me then, too, because you're not a tender man, and the fact that you are with me, says more than a thousand words ever could. That's the largest gift I've ever received, and even though I don't deserve it, I'm going to keep it."

He couldn't speak, knew his own eyes were blurred with tears as he kissed her, deeply, trying to communicate his profound love for her through his lips, his tongue, his body.

They didn't come down from their room that day, spent it instead worshipping and adoring each other, and when she gave birth nine months almost to that very day, they named their son Matthew, which meant Gift of God.

And he was.


~end~