"That asshole keyed my car!"

Bobby's shrieks echo across the parking lot of the mansion. I see heads turning from all directions, wondering what the heck is going on, and I try unsuccessfully to stifle my giggles.

"Take that, jerk." Keeping my voice low, I bounce up and down behind the van I've been hiding behind, a big, silly grin on my face.

Glancing over, I see my extremely handsome best friend leaning carelessly against the side of the van. Shoulder pressed against the words 'Cleaners Are Us', which are stuck on the white surface with navy blue decals, and one leg bent at the knee, with the toe of one large, black boot dug into the ground. One hand is clenched into a fist with three very long, very shiny and very sharp adamantium claws protruding out, while the other casually uses them to pick at his fingernails. His beautiful hazel eyes slide up to me and they're followed closely by one highly arched eyebrow. He's so cute when he thinks I'm insane. Which is most of the time, I think.

"Hehehe." I jump up and down a few more times and then spin around in a circle, arms pumping at my sides and my cheeks hurting from all the smiling I'm doing. This payback is a million times better than I could have imagined and it's impossible for me to stand still right now.

Logan just shakes his head at me and turns his attention back to his claws, while I return to my spot near the front of the van and peer over the steeply slanted hood.

"MY car!" Bobby's still screaming. "Does he know how much this thing cost?"

I roll my eyes at my ex-boyfriend while chuckling softly to myself. It really was a sweet car. 'Was' being the operative word here. Now, it's just icy blue scrap metal. The driver's side door, anyways.

"He's going to pay for this!" Bobby again. "What kind of jerk does this to another man's Mustang?!"

Until now, Kitty, my EX friend, has been crouched down next to the injured vehicle inspecting the damage, but she finally speaks up. "Bobby, what could have done *this* to a car door?"

She's a little quieter than Bobby, but Logan and I are close enough to hear every word. I wonder how someone so smart could possibly be so dense right now. But then it occurs to me, Kitty hasn't actually ever seen Logan's claws before. At least not that I know of. So it's no wonder that she hasn't made the connection yet.

I watch with silent glee as Kitty slides two of her fingers into one of the three large gashes now lining the driver's side door. She's not being very careful about the jagged metal, but I suppose she doesn't need to be since she can just phase right through it.

"I don't think a key did this," Kitty states the obvious and I roll my eyes.

I can't believe Bobby picked *her* over me, poison skin or not.

Bobby's face reddens. "I *know* it's not a key!" he yells. "It's an expression! It's what people say when a fucking psychopath rips their car to shreds!"

Kitty seems a little puzzled before she asks, "They actually have an expression for something like this?"

I think Bobby's head is going to explode, which makes me snort rather loudly with laughter.

I quickly duck down behind the van again, hoping that I haven't totally blown our cover, but I can't stop laughing now. This is just too perfect! So much better than I could have hoped for and way better than Logan promised me it would be. The conversation, still fresh in my mind, plays out in my head.

"He what?" Logan asks, his tone disbelieving.

"He broke up with me." I still haven't cried over it, but my best friend, always the savior that he is, figures I'm probably more upset and angry than I'm letting on, so he wastes no time pulling me into a safe hug. "For Kitty," I mumble against his flannel shirt, my words barely audible, but I know he hears me.

"Want me to gut him?" he growls, still holding me securely.

"No, don't," I grumble, pulling away from him. But then suddenly, a brilliant idea occurs to me. "Maybe you could just mess up his precious car or something Pull some spark plugs, drain the battery, or pour some sugar in his gas tank?" I smile playfully up at Logan, mostly I'm kidding, because such a blatant act of vandalism is very out of character for me. But I'm angry and he takes me much more seriously than I'd intended.

A little crinkle forms between his eyebrows, and one of which quirks up into a mischievous looking peak. Uh oh. It's a look I've seen many times before. Usually right before he steals Scotts bike or pours Jello in his bed sheets.

"Ok." And he's gone out the bedroom door before I can say anything, so bolt after him.

"Logan, wait!"

Running to keep up with his long strides, I trail along behind him.

"Logan, please don't. I was just rambling 'cause I'm mad. Logan, stop!"

He stops dead in his tracks and I run into his back. "Oof!" He's quick to catch me though, so I don't fall over. "Thanks."

He's scowling now and I can still hear a faint rumble resonating in the back of his throat.

"I knew that little icicle punk wasn't good enough for you."

"I wish I had."

"Let me at least mess up his car a little." The corners of his mouth curve up just slightly and I can see an evil glint of pleasure in his eyes. I'm unsure if it's because he's trying to cheer me up, or if it's simply the idea of getting to destroy something of Bobby's. I think it's probably the latter. "C'mon, it'll be therapeutic."

I'm surprised by his choice of words; very un-Logan-like. He must be spending too much time with Jean and the Professor. But the look in his eyes tells me he's serious, so I decide to take his word for it. "You promise?"

This time I get a real smile, or as much of a 'smile' as you ever get from Logan. He pops a playful eyebrow up at me, then grabs my arm and drags me along behind him.

"What was that?" I hear the annoyance in Bobby's voice coming from the other side of the van.

Uh oh… I think he heard me.

I glance up, panicked, at Logan who's stopped fiddling with his claws and has retracted them back behind his knuckles. He's also noticed that they're coming towards us now. Reaching out, he hauls me around the back side of the van, just before Bobby and Kitty round the corner to where we've been standing.

Phew! That was close. But somehow the excitement of our secret operation has made it impossible for me to stop giggling.

Logan tugs me closer to him until my back is pressed right into his chest. One strong arm is wrapped around my waist holding me still, while his other large, manly hand is placed firmly over my mouth, ensuring my laughter doesn't give us away. I contemplate licking his hand, but then think better of it. I'm sure it wouldn't go over very well, no matter how tight we are. It's also a good thing the Professor has been working with me to control my mutation otherwise Logan probably would've hit the ground by now.

I'm feeling a little trapped at the moment, but if I weren't, I'd probably be taking the time to appreciate our close proximity and the fact that I can feel every muscle in his body pressing into mine. Wow, they're hard. Hmmm… maybe I'm not too trapped to think about that… for a minute at least…

Even though I've been with Bobby the past couple of years, I'll freely admit that my girlish crush on Logan has never faded. I mean, come on! Have you seen the man? We're best buddies, and most of the time I'm sure he'll never view me as anything other than that. But a girl can hope, can't she? Besides, even if he never does see me as the woman I am now, at least I can appreciate the view from the friend seat. And it's an amazing view at that.

"Marie," Logan sounds irritated. "Stop that."

At first I'm not sure what he's talking about, but then I realize that my thoughts have gotten away from me and I've started rubbing up against him. I can't move much because I'm still in his iron grip, but the little amount of leeway I do have is being used to enjoy our closeness. Oops. I hadn't meant to do that.

I try to apologize, but Logan's huge hand is still clamped over my mouth so it doesn't really sound like words.

"I know I heard something." Bobby still sounds angry and I can tell they're closing in on us again.

"Let's just go, Bobby," Kitty whines. "I'm hungry."

Logan's grip on me tightens, and again, I'm dragged around the van to the opposite side from where my two former friends are now. Managing to turn my head a little bit, my eyes slide up to Logan and I'm shocked by what I see. He's grinning. Not his usual Logan-ish smirk, but a full on Cheshire Cat grin. He's enjoying this! My eyes widen in surprise and I smile behind his hand. I love my partner in crime.

Most people make the assumption that Logan is too rough and tough to ever have any fun. But *I* know different.

He must sense that I'm watching at him now, because his head tilts down and he gives me a naughty wink. The arm around my waist releases and his hand goes up to his lips. "Sshhh." It's a whisper and I feel his grip loosen and his hand drops from my mouth. Ick, my face feels all sweaty and wet now. I guess I shouldn't have done all that giggling while he was holding me like that. Oh, well.

It's quiet on the other side of the van so I wonder if maybe Bobby's given up and left. Curious, I tip toe quietly to the back of the vehicle, but just as I'm about to peer around the end, I feel Logan's hand tugging on the back of my jeans. I turn and see him shaking his head at me and pointing at his ear. Right, heightened senses, I forgot. Taking his word for it, I join him near the front of the van and wait for his signal that the coast is clear.

We round the corner of the van one last time before Bobby and Kitty finally decide to leave. Standing back where we started, I take up my previous observation point near the hood and wait to see if there'll be any more fireworks before the payback is complete. Bobby's obviously still mad but he's quit yelling now. He is inspecting the damage one last time.

I bet he's thinking about calling the cops and charging Logan with something. But if he's got half a brain in his head he won't do anything at all. First off, because we're all mutants; so most likely the police would be useless. No matter what the President likes to think, we're still mainly outcasts. And secondly, because no one would be stupid enough to try and get The Wolverine arrested. At least I hope not. I can't even begin to imagine the ramifications of that.

"See?" Logan's voice startles me from my thoughts. His lips are pressed right into my ear, his voice is soft but rumbly, and I can feel his moist breath brushing softly across my skin. "Told you it'd be good."

I smile without turning my eyes away from the Mustang and whisper back, "Yep, you did."

My ex-boyfriend and my ex friend both get into the slightly depreciated vehicle and finally drive away.

I feel giddy. This whole thing couldn't have been better if I'd planned it. The fury on Bobby's face was priceless. Kitty's inability to comprehend what had happened was just the icing on the cake. Good riddance to them both. I've got better friends than the two of them. Friends that would do anything for me. Friends that will stand by me no matter what. Yeah. Friends like, Logan.

Huh, Logan... I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that he's still right close behind me. Strange that he didn't move after whispering in my ear, or even after Bobby and Kitty drove off.

Why hasn't he moved?

I mull it over for a second and then turn around to face him. I have to lean back so I'm pressed tight against the van because there is no room between us.

He still doesn't budge. He's really close. Like, invading my personal space, kind of close.

"Hey," I say hesitantly, my eyes shifting around awkwardly, trying to avoid looking directly at him. Normally he doesn't make me this nervous, but he's so near right now. I feel like prey being stalked by a predator. A gazelle. I feel like a gazelle. A gazelle being stalked by a wolverine. Wait. Would a wolverine even stalk a gazelle? Maybe a rabbit, or a gopher or something? Maybe I'm a gopher being stalked by a wolverine.

I'm getting distracted again. I'm not used to us sharing this much personal space. It's nice and a little odd at the same time. Must focus. Better turn my full attention back to Logan again.

There's a mischievous glint in his eyes, one eyebrow is raised and he's giving me the look he usually gives me when he thinks I've lost my mind. But this time I think *he* is the one who's lost his mind.

What's going on with him? I think our stealth mission has made his brain go haywire or something.

"What's up?" I ask, smiling at him curiously and giving him my best 'I think you're insane' face.

Those intense hazel eyes don't leave me when he says, "Therapeutic, right?" Then, both eyebrows wiggle up and down a couple of times, causing me to laugh and I'm instantly able to relax because I know he's just messing around.

"Very!" I exclaim and throw my arms around his neck. "Thanks."

He hugs me back with one arm and simply says, "sure."

...

Back in my room now, I brush my hair and teeth and pick out some pajamas for bed. After I graduated I was lucky enough to get my own room, so now I enjoy the wonderful pleasure of wearing whatever I want to bed. No more worries about accidentally killing someone while they sleep. No sir! So I slip on a light green tank top and a pair of super short white cotton shorts with the word 'JUICY' stamped in pink on the ass. They're my favorite pair, probably because they're kinda sexy and sassy. Very un-Marie-like. Now that I'm learning how to control my mutation, I've also been working on my self-esteem issues. I figure that wearing clothes that I never would have worn previously is the first step to recovery!

I wish my brain would turn off already though. It's been hours since Logan and I got back from our little covert op, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about that moment we had earlier. How close to me he was. How he didn't move away when he so easily could have. Why?

The lines of our friendship have always been very clearly drawn. We're friends. Best friends even. He's the adult, I'm the 'young adult', just recently graduated from being called 'kid' all the time. We hang out. Sometimes if the mood is right, we talk. But not much. Logan's not a 'talker'. Sometimes we eat together. Occasionally he takes me for a ride on the bike. But we never, and I do mean *never*, cross that line. Even when I fall asleep in his bed after watching a movie, he always sleeps on the little sofa in the corner. I flirt with him sometimes, duh. But it's always been innocent because I had a boyfriend. Logan never takes me too seriously. I think he finds me a relief from his constant inner turmoil. Once in a while I wonder if that's the reason he puts up with me so much. I'm sure that's not the case though. There are a million other things he could do to relieve tension and stress… Soooo don't even wanna think about *that* right now.

Ugh. Ok. I need to force myself to think about something else.

Something else.

Anything else.

Right. Sleep. Bed. Good.

I head back to the vanity to finish my nightly routine.

A few minutes later, dressed and ready for bed, I grab a hair elastic off the dresser and pull my hair up into a sleek ponytail, only leaving the white streaks loose out in front. I may not be totally poisonous any more, but I still feel the need to remind myself that I'm not one hundred percent safe either. I don't want to become complacent and accidentally hurt someone. So the streaks are my constant reminder to be careful.

Clicking off the light, I hop into bed and snuggle down.

I'm wide awake. *Wide* awake. My eyes have never been this open before. Yep… Awake. I roll over and try to get comfortable.

It doesn't work.

I can't stop thinking about Logan's intense stare earlier. What was that anyways? He *never* looks at me like that. Never *ever*. I wonder if I just imagined it? Maybe I just made the whole thing up. Maybe he didn't even look at me at all. Maybe we weren't even out in the parking lot together, and maybe he never cut up Bobby's stupid car, and we didn't almost get caught. I just dreamed it all. I mean, after all, I *am* in bed right now.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch my arm. "Ow!"

Nope, definitely not dreaming.

I can't stop thinking about this. I need to do something.

Hopping out of bed I slip on my fluffy bunny slippers and shuffle out into the dimly lit, empty hallway. Maybe something to eat will convince my brain to shut off.

...

Two slices of left over pizza and a glass of water later, I'm putting my dishes in the dishwasher when something catches my eye.

The overhead lights in the kitchen glimmer off some of the cutlery currently standing in the little tray, and I'm instantly struck with an idea!

Grinning, I rummage through a couple of the kitchen drawers and after finding what I need, I head back upstairs.

...

Standing in the hallway outside Logan's bedroom door, I have to try my damndest not to start giggling again. Pulling the silverware, knives to be exact, out of my shorts pockets, I carefully place them between each of my fingers. I'm actually sort of impressed, my fake Wolverine claws don't look half bad… if you consider the fact that I just came up with this idea about five seconds ago.

I wiggle my hands a little bit to ensure they're secure and then knock on the door with my elbow.

"What?" is all I get from the other side. But I know Logan well enough to know that this is basically a written invitation for me.

Taking a deep breath, because I'm suddenly feeling really silly about this plan, I leap into his room, hands out in front of me so my 'claws' are showing.

"Snikt!" I do my best to make a sound resembling his claws coming out and then take a swipe at his dresser by the door. Without actually hitting it of course. Wouldn't want to wake up the entire mansion with my silly antics. "Take that Ice Brat!" I pause, whirling around once. "My car! That asshole keyed my car!" It comes out a little more screechy than I had planned, but whatever. A few more swipes at the dresser and a few more rather unsuccessful sound effects and I finally turn around, take a quick bow and grin my biggest, silliest grin at Logan.

He's of course sitting on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him, watching me. I fully expect to see him give me the look I've seen a thousand times before when I'm being silly. The one that tells me he's half wondering why he spends his time with me, but half wondering what he ever did without me. I like that look. I know that look. I *understand* that look.

The expression he's actually wearing is quite different. It actually resembles the one he gave me earlier and I'm instantly feeling a little awkward and unsure. I hadn't expected this. Not totally. Well, maybe a little. Or maybe a lot. 'Hoped' is probably a better word. Wished even? Ok, I'm totally lying here. I absolutely hoped, wished for, dreamed of, somewhere between, half and totally expected him to look at me exactly as he's doing right now.

My earlier rehashing over the day's events hadn't been getting me anywhere, so I figured, why not just act? Put myself right in his face again. All me. Just me. Silly, goofy, fun, sometimes quiet, sometimes shy, always his buddy, Marie.

He doesn't say a word when his legs swing off the side of the bed, his bare feet now resting on the hardwood floor. His eyes never leave me.

I'm feeling a little silly with this cutlery still between my fingers so I awkwardly put it all down on the dresser and smile sheepishly at him. I really wish I wasn't still wearing my bunny slippers.

"Hey." The word sounds stupid, the moment it leaves my lips. But it's the only thing I can think to say after my theatrics. I can barely look him in the eye right now, I feel so ridiculous. I wish he would say something.

But he doesn't right away. And he still doesn't seem like he thinks I'm insane. Instead he just waggles those damn sexy eyebrows at me, quirks a cocky smile and says, "Nice shorts, Juicy."

That relaxes me. 'Phew!' I smile my most innocent, but teasing smile at him, turn half way around and shake my 'juicy' clad ass at him. "You like?"

When I'm done my little floor show, I turn around and find a very different expression on my best friend's face. This one is more primal. Hungry almost. His eyes are darker, and the smirk is gone from his lips.

"Come here." It's not a question and I comply without even thinking about it.

As I cross the room towards him, I shuffle out of my bunny slippers and leave them forgotten on the floor behind me. I'm not even sure what I'm doing. What *we're* doing? This isn't who we are. We're friends, not lovers. But his expression right now just radiates 'want'. It's a side of him he never lets me see. Not on purpose anyways. He's always tightly controlled and careful never to let us cross any of his lines. And they are *his*. And I respect them. I know our friendship means a lot to him, so I don't push my luck. Most of the time I just consider myself damn lucky he even allows me to be in his presence. Plus, up until twenty four hours ago, I had a boyfriend.

Hmmm… I think on that briefly.

Is that what's changed? Everything else is status quo for us. The only difference is that before, I was taken, and even before that, I was too young. But now… Maybe we *can* cross that line. Smudge it out, or blur it a little. See what's there. Is that what he wants? Is that what he's trying to tell me?

I finally reach Logan and I'm still completely unsure about what's happening. Or what I *want* to happen. But his big, strong hands reach out for me, fingers curling into the waistband of my shorts and he tugs me between his thighs. My arms just hang limp at my sides… I feel ridiculous. Do you ever get that feeling like you just don't know what to do with your hands? Like, do I shove them in my pockets, or twiddle my thumbs, or what? Well, that's what this is like. I feel the overwhelming urge to cup his cheeks in my hands, or run my fingers through that unruly hair, but it's such a weird notion for me. We're not friends with benefits. I mean, I crawl all over him on a regular basis like he's my own personal jungle gym, but that's just playful. *This*, this is something completely different.

I think Logan senses my uncomfortable uncertainty because the darkness in his eyes has drifted away and he's just looking up at me now. But his hands are still on my hips.

"You ok?" he asks.

"Mmm hmm," I mumble, not really sure what I'm supposed to say.

"You seem different."

I'm sorry. What? *I* seem different? I almost laugh at that. *He's* the one who's changing all the rules all of a sudden. Isn't he?

Giggling a little and trying my best not to look as awkward as I feel, I say, "*I* seem different? Sugar, you're the one who's acting all sexy 'n stuff out of the blue."

His eyebrow rises at me and that little wrinkle forms above his nose, but he still doesn't take his hands off my hips. He looks like he wants to laugh at me. He doesn't, of course. But I swear he wants to.

"Take a look in the mirror, kid." (Ugh, 'kid' again? I thought we were passed that already.) "And tell me who it was, who walked into my room in the middle of the night, flashing around her ass in a pair of shorts that barely qualify. And then we'll talk about who's acting *sexy* all of a sudden."

I hear what he's saying to me, and realize that he's absolutely right. *I* was the one who did all those things, so I guess I can't really blame him for any reaction he might have had… he *is* a man after all.

Embarrassed, I smile at him I say, "Ok, you win." I place my hands over top of his, which have remained on my hips this entire time, and ask, "So, you're sexy and I'm sexy. Now what?"

He seems to give my question some serious thought before replies, "I don't know. What do *you* want?"

Way to turn it back around on me, sugar.

Ok. Think. What do I want?

I know I love him. I know he's my very best friend in the whole world. I know I don't ever want to even *think* of losing him. I know I've lusted after him in one way or another since we first met. I know that he causes my body to react in ways that I never thought imaginable. And I know that I will never meet another man as beautiful as he is. But I also know he's tortured in a lot of ways and that his troubles are so much bigger than I could ever dream. But none of that matters to me. Never has. I've loved him through thick and thin.

But then I think of Bobby. Only broken up for barely a day and I'm moving on to my best friend already? Is that right? Do I really want Logan to be my 'rebound' guy? What does that say about what Bobby and I had, if I could so easily move on to Logan? Plus does he even want me like that? I mean, he never offered. Not really. Only asked me what *I* wanted. For all I know, he's just wondering if I'm in the mood for pepperoni on my pizza!

Damn it! Why is this so hard? Why did Bobby have to go and dump me for Kitty? Why did my supposed 'friend' go and betray me by stealing my boyfriend? What kind of friend does that? Logan would never do that. Well… ok, that would just be weird… Logan stealing my boyfriend? Hehe.

Ok, I'm off track here. What do *I* want? Who knew this would be such a hard question to answer? Usually when I think about this, the answer is screaming at me in bright pink neon, 'I CHOOSE LOGAN! I WANT LOGAN!' But now? When he's so tantalizingly close? I can feel his warmth under my skin and he's opened himself up to an idea I thought he never would. Or at least I *think* he has. Why am I hesitating now? Why don't I know what I want? Or more importantly, why don't I know what I'm ready for?

I think I may have just found my answer.

When I finally return back to reality from my crazy rollercoaster of rambling thoughts, Logan is simply sitting there waiting for me to respond. No pressure, just patiently waiting. It's this fact that makes me realize I don't need to know what I want right now. He will never pressure me in this. He'll wait until I'm totally sure and he will never force me or make me feel guilty for being scared or uncertain.

"I could really use a hug." Finally answering him, I slump forward letting my forehead bump lightly against his. We look at each other for a moment and I can smell the cigar smoke on his breath. It's the most comforting scent I've ever breathed in. It's 'home' to me.

"Thought so," is all he says before wrapping his strong arms around me and dragging me onto the bed with him. I go willingly and curl my body into his much larger one, using his shoulder as a pillow.

Feeling more safe and secure than I have in my life, I wonder if he knew all along that this is all I really needed tonight. He's a lot wiser than most people give him credit for, so I think I'm probably right in that assumption. Too bad it took me so long to catch up.

Good thing I have him to guide me through this crazy thing called life.

But then again, he is my best friend.