"And so I told him, 'Hank, how could you possibly have thought that was the reason?' I mean, it's obvious, to anyone with half a brain that it was actually the leukocytes *not* the erythrocytes that..." Jean said, waving her hands around to emphasize her words.

Logan didn't even pretend to listen - he simply tuned her out. He wondered, as he watched his cigar smoke slowly curl to the ceiling - to escape Jean's grating voice no doubt - why he was still with her. In the beginning it had been for the sex, but his attraction to her had quickly faded when faced on a day-to-day basis with her less-than-sparkling personality. She hadn't even noticed his lack of interest, probably too involved in visions of her own perfection, he thought with a cynical half-smile. Then almost dropped the cigar when *she* walked into the room.

Now *that* is a woman, he thought appreciatively, watching as the long-legged brunette (with white streaks?) made her way across the room. Her hips swayed gently with her every movement, long hair brushing a perfect ass and curling over full breasts that would fit perfectly in his big hands. When he found himself looking at his hands and picturing them stroking that perfect body, he shook himself out of fantasy-mode. That he could do later, now was the time to find out about the woman and make the first move.

"Who's that?" he casually asked Jean, nodding towards the beautiful newcomer.

She looked annoyed that he'd interrupted her diatribe on the greatness that was Jean Grey, and looked over at the young woman. "Who, her? Just some kid the Professor took in," she answered dismissing both the question and the girl.

Kid. He eyed her speculatively and decided that she was, in no way at all, a kid. Young, nineteen or twenty he guessed, but too young? He flicked his ash onto Jean's brand new pink angora sweater and met the young woman's gaze. He recognized a mix of surprise and reluctant desire in her jade eyes, and let a feral smile curl his lips. The perfect age; the perfect woman. And the perfect time, if the degeneration of his relationship with Jean was anything to go by.

"Gotta go," he said, never taking his eyes off of the woman soon about to be his. Jean gasped when he leaped up from the couch and stalked towards the new girl; not because she was distressed that he had left in the middle of her speech, or even that he was leaving her company for that of another woman, but because she had just noticed the cigar ash on her sweater. Some stains were just impossible to remove, she thought, examining the pink wool and not even noticing when her boyfriend left with his arm around another woman.

---

In the middle of the night, there was a knock on the door. Logan looked across the king-size bed towards Jean, who lay still as the dead in her corner, and got up to answer the door, and preferably tell whoever it was to fuck off.

As he neared the door, he smelled a very distinctive scent. Her. The woman of his dreams. That afternoon he'd learned, over a bowl of choc-chip ice-cream, that her name was Rogue, her 'gift' was life-absorbing skin - which she'd learned to control after years of agonizing solitude - and that she had just turned 21. It had been the best afternoon that he could remember, and the most he'd done was hold her hand. He shook his head at that, who would've thought that bad-ass Wolverine would enjoy an afternoon spent simply talking to someone?

He swung the door open to reveal a trembling Rogue, eyes big and scared in her beautiful ivory face.

"I... I had another nightmare. I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go... I can leave..." she whispered shakily, and he, acting purely on instinct, pulled her into his arms. He held her and breathed in the clean apple-scent of her hair, rubbing her back gently and letting her silent tears drop onto his bare chest. He closed the door and picked her up, carrying her to the bed and climbing in, settling her in front of him, her back to his chest, so that he could hold her through the night. Jean didn't notice anything, and the bed was large enough for all three of them to lay spread out and not touch once. He, however, *wanted* to touch Rogue, wanted to keep her in his embrace until she'd stopped shivering, until the end of eternity and beyond.

While he held her, his back to Jean who lay well over four feet away from the two of them, he settled his hands on Rogue's abdomen, stroking her stomach through the light silk nightgown. Eventually, she stopped shaking. He wasn't sure if it was because of the comfort of his arms, or the warmth of his body, all he knew was that she had been upset and he'd found a way to calm her.

He didn't know when his touch became sensual, but when her breath hitched in her throat and her scent changed, turned spicy and sweet with arousal and innocence, he found that his hands were beneath the smooth silk, cupping breasts that were satin-soft and nipples that had turned to rock. He knew she could feel his erection against her, knew that what he was doing went beyond the actions of a friend, but found that he didn't care. He wanted her. He *needed* her. He had to have her.

And so he did. She didn't protest when he extended his claws and shredded her white cotton panties, when he slid them back in again and resumed stroking her stomach. When his hands moved lower and began stroking the soft curls that guarded her femininity. When two fingers plunged inside her and his thumb pressed against her clit, when he flipped her onto her back and thrust his tongue into her mouth to muffle her scream of ecstasy, when he pulled his boxers off and spread her silky thighs apart. When he drove his throbbing shaft into her wet sheath, when he rotated his hips and thrust inside her repeatedly, when he rubbed the swollen nubbin that was her pleasure-point, when they both came apart in each others arms, tongues tangled desperately to hide the inevitable sounds of orgasm.

As they lay, satiated, holding each other, Logan realized that he'd made love to Rogue, the woman he wanted a future with, while in bed with the woman he hadn't yet broken up with. Jean would be incredibly hurt if she ever found out what they'd done. And he had yet another realization: he didn't care. Only the fact that Rogue would probably be hurt, feel guilty for doing this to Jean, a woman she'd never met, kept him from letting the foolish grin that he wore on the inside come out.

Sure enough, she turned to look at him, green eyes dark with worry. "Logan," she whispered, "how could we have done this? In the same bed as her? Oh, God. I have to go."

He felt a moment of panic at that, but squelched it and held her tighter, refusing to release her. "No," he said softly, "you're not going anywhere. Sleep with me. Just sleep. We'll figure out what to do tomorrow."

"No, Logan, please. I can't. Not with her, sleeping right there. This was wrong. It was twisted and depraved. Sick."

"Nothing we could ever do together would be sick, twisted or depraved. This was good and pure and true, because it's us and we are meant to be. I'll break up with Jean tomorrow and she doesn't ever have to know about this."

Slowly, she relaxed and he loosened his grip on her, enough for her to get up and smooth out her nightgown. "All right. It wasn't wrong, and she doesn't have to know it ever happened, but I still can't sleep here with you."

"Well, why don't I come to your room, then?" he proposed, still whispering so as not to wake Jean and embarrass Rogue.

"We can't. I have 'temporary accommodations', remember? Two roommates? For some reason I don't want an audience the second time we make love," she said so softly that if he hadn't had incredibly acute hearing he wouldn't have caught it.

"Hey," he took her hand and kissed it. "This is you and me, nothing between us could ever be wrong -- remember that. And for what I have in mind for our second time, having an audience is not an option."

She smiled genuinely, bent down and dropped a kiss on his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow, Logan."

He smiled and watched her leave, then climbed out of the bed, pulled on his boxers and dropped into the armchair in front of the window. Sleeping next to Jean felt... wrong.

He thought of how, by the next day, he would be free to openly be with Rogue, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.



The following morning he heard Jean moving around and woke with a start. She was dressed and pulling a brush through her hair in a no-nonsense fashion. The perfect time, he decided, to tell her they were through.

"Jean," he began, only to have her turn to him and snap,

"Logan, why did you sleep in the chair last night? You're lucky my body didn't notice the lack of your body heat. I don't have time to get sick right now, I just have too much to do..."

"Jean, I have to tell you something," he said, watching as she set down her brush and started making the bed.

His eyes widened as he remembered the stains on the sheets from the previous night and he jumped up to pull the covers from her grip. He ripped the sheets from the bed, bundled them up and tossed them out the open window.

She stared at him, openmouthed. "Logan, whyever did you do that? What a completely pointless waste of good linen. Honestly, I don't understand you at all sometimes. You are just he most barbaric person I've ever met," she said, nodding her head to affirm her statement.

Logan ran a hand through his hair and growled in frustration. "Jean, we're over. Through. I don't want to date you any more, sleep with you any more, *listen* to you any more."

Jean's eyes were unfocused and she was mumbling to herself, then she smiled brightly and said, "Uh-huh. I'll see you tonight, Logan."

He groaned in frustration. Obviously she hadn't heard a word he'd said. He grabbed her arms as she was about to leave and gritted out, "Jean, I'm breaking up with you. Now. Today. Forever."

"And then I really must talk to Ororo about the weather, I mean, what's the use of having someone around who can control the weather if she won't give us sunny days when we want them?" she muttered, easily shaking herself loose and striding out the door towards the dining room.

Logan ground his teeth together. It looked like breaking up with Jean would be harder then he'd first thought, but it was important to get it over with as soon as possible, for Rogue's sake, if nothing else. Steeling himself to deal with his self-centred soon-to-be-ex, he headed towards the dining room.

---

Jean and Ororo were sitting on the couch, waiting for breakfast to be served, when Logan entered the room. Ororo noted the way his eyes lit up when he saw Rogue, noted the way the young woman's smile softened, the green of her eyes deepened when he looked at her.

"Jean," she said worriedly, "is everything all right with you and Logan?"

"Of course. He's a very difficult man to live with, but you know, I do my best."

"Umm... of course you do," Ororo said diplomatically. "But are you certain something isn't going on between Logan and Rogue?"

"Who?" Jean asked, momentarily confused. Then she saw the girl on whom Ororo's eyes rested and realized who she was talking about. "Oh, her. Please, be realistic. She's just a little girl; I'm a woman. Besides, look at her, then look at me. Do you really think I'm worried?"

Ororo said nothing to that, merely smiled a little smile that didn't reach her eyes, and got up to get some breakfast.

Logan saw 'Ro stand up and seized the opportunity handed to him by the gods. Or weather goddess, at least.

"Jean," he said, standing in front of her. "I have to talk to you. I tried to tell you this morning but you wouldn't listen. I'm breaking up with you, our relationship, if we ever really had one, is over. Through, finished, done."

Jean looked up at him in surprise. "Well, that came out of nowhere. But, I will admit, life with you has been far too disruptive for me. I think I'd much rather be with someone like Scott, someone settled and strong and..."

"Jean," he said sharply, interrupting her monologue, "I'll move my things out this morning."

She nodded, still thinking about Scott and pondering ways to capture her next victim.

Logan left, shaking his head, to pack his bags and begin life without Jean. A life with laughter, friendship and love. A life with Rogue.

---

Later that night, lying in his arms, Rogue asked, "What does it say about our relationship, that it started the way it did?"

He kissed the top of her head and smiled. "It says that when it's right, it's right. You don't wait. Not for anything, or anyone."

She sighed and snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. Rogue lifted her head and looked up at him with laughing eyes, "Yeah, I'd never have seen myself as the other woman, though."

He slid her up so that he could easily reach her mouth and kissed her, tracing her soft mouth with his tongue, thrusting deeply into her mouth, imitating the act the kiss was sure to precede.

Logan trailed his fingers over her silken back and broke the kiss to say, tenderly, "Darling, you were never the other woman. You were - are - the *only* woman."

---

A/N II: In the movies, there's that moment when the hero spots the heroine and everything goes into slo-mo, and a song plays in the background. If this fic were a movie, the song below is what would be playing in the background:

Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on
Livin' like a lover with a radar phone
Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp
Demolition woman, can I be your man?
Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light
Television lover, baby, go all night
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet
Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah

Hey!
C'mon, take a bottle, shake it up
Break the bubble, break it up

Pour some sugar on me
Ooh, in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me
C'mon fire me up
Pour your sugar on me
Oh, I can't get enough

I'm hot, sticky sweet
From my head to my feet yeah

Listen! red light, yellow light, green-a-light go!
Crazy little woman in a one man show
Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love
Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up

You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little
Tease a little more
Easy operator come a knockin' on my door
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet
Little miss innocent sugar me, yeah

Take a bottle, shake it up
Break the bubble, break it up

Pour some sugar on me
Ooh, in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me
C'mon fire me up
Pour your sugar on me
Oh, I can't get enough

I'm hot, sticky sweet
From my head to my feet yeah

[guitar solo]

You got the peaches, I got the cream
Sweet to taste, saccharine
'Cos I'm hot, say what, sticky sweet
From my head, my head, to my feet

Do you take sugar? one lump or two?

Take a bottle, shake it up
Break the bubble, break it up

Pour some sugar on me
Ooh, in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me
C'mon fire me up
Pour your sugar on me
Oh, I can't get enough
Pour some sugar on me
Oh, in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me
Get it, come get it
Pour your sugar on me
Ooh
Pour some sugar on me
Yeah! Sugar me!