The Dangers of Holding Hands by atmd
Summary: Marie focused on dulling the pull of her skin, dampening her body’s desire to consume anything it came in contact with. That was the thing she hated about her mutation. Take, take, take. It felt selfish. She wished she had a mutation that was more suited to helping than hurting. Like if she could give away her own life force with a touch, rather than just steal others’.

Post-X3. A little angst and a lot fluff. Nothing especially original or well-written here, to be honest, but hopefully a fun little read.
Categories: X3 Characters: None
Genres: Angst, Foof, Shipper
Tags: None
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 13 Completed: Yes Word count: 10851 Read: 97354 Published: 08/04/2011 Updated: 08/07/2011
Practice by atmd
Of course, she had turned twenty-two yesterday, and there was probably a point where ‘letting her keep her innocence’ turned into ‘enabling an unhealthy immaturity.’ But she had never been big on all that psychology mumbo jumbo. ‘Specially that creepy Freud fella. What a perv.

“Wanna practice?” Logan said abruptly, making her slosh her drink.

She wiped her lips with her sleeve and glanced over at him, but his expression was still that relaxed, unreadable mask. “Oh. Um. Now?”

He shrugged. “May as well. We’re both here, and I got a beer and a half left. Let’s see if ya can make it ‘til I finish.”

Marie peeled off one of her gloves and rested her hand palm up on the counter. Trying to copy his relaxed vibe, she slouched a little on the barstool and spoke around a yawn, “’Kay. But I’m kin’a tired. Might not do s’good. Y’sure ya wanna risk it?”

He just laid his hand on hers, downing another gulp of beer. “I’ll heal,” he said dryly.

True. That was why she practiced controlling her mutation with him most of the time. That, and she already had enough of him in her head that he didn’t stir things up too bad when she took an accidental hit of him. He pretty much stayed quiet and kept his memories hidden from her anyways.

Not that she had tried to peek at those memories. Much.

Marie loved and hated the way Logan’s hand felt on hers. Loved the contrast, big on small, dark on light, strong on gentle. Hated the calmness, the stillness of him. He seemed so unaffected. At least when Bobby held her hand, his palm broke into an ice-cold sweat, and when she rubbed her thumb in circles, he would tremble.

But Marie had never worked up the courage to rub her thumb in circles on Logan’s hand. She was too scared that she would do it and nothing would happen. She’d be so embarrassed if he didn’t respond, didn’t hitch his breath or get a little bit warmer or something. If he just sat there, calm as ever, breaking her heart into little pieces. The thought of it made her nervous, made her chest feel tight, made her afraid of him.

So it was better to just not go there.



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