Logan sat at the kitchen table, reading The New York Times. He was luxuriating in the silence. It was the Fourth of July weekend, and most of the kids had taken off for points unknown. Sure, he missed Marie, but it was almost worth it to have Jubilee and the other noisy brats gone for three whole days.

She'd gone with Jubilee and Kitty up to the mountains for the weekend. Something about a Fireworks Festival up by Lake George. He hadn't paid much attention, because he'd been watching NASCAR.

They were supposed to be getting home sometime that afternoon, and he couldn't help but feel a little excited at seeing Marie again.

His thoughts had been turning to her more and more lately, and not just as his best friend and drinking buddy. He was slowly coming to the conclusion that he had *feelings* for her, and he didn't want to fuck it up. He was at the stage right now where he wouldn't admit it to anyone -- least of all the object of his affections -- but he'd moved beyond his initial disbelief at the idea into the adrenaline rush of the first blush of infatuation.

It was strange -- he'd gone that first time, and stayed away for six months before he'd been overwhelmed with the urge to go home. First off, the whole idea that he -- Wolverine -- had a home was ludicrous. Second of all, that he had missed Marie -- that he had missed *anyone* -- was not something he was prepared to deal with, either then, or now, five years later. He continued to occasionally go away, but like a magnet draws iron (or adamantium, in his case), he always came home, drawn by Marie's inexorable pull.

He realized that the whole thing was going to require delicate handling. First off, telling her. He wasn't sure she wouldn't just laugh in his face. He had spent so much time complaining to her about how Jean had broken his heart that he wondered if Rogue would even believe him if he said he loved her.

Then there was explaining it to everyone else in the mansion, who thought their relationship was sweet and cute and brotherly -- all sorts of things that raised his hackles, because they weren't things associated with the Wolverine. Or they hadn't been, before Marie.

And he'd certainly never thought of himself as her father or brother, despite what Scott or Hank might say.

Not to mention the age thing.

He rubbed his forehead when he thought about how One-Eye was going to react to that. It would be a hassle, sure, but it would worth it just to get under the bastard's skin.

He knew he was already freaking them all out by flirting with her, though she didn't seem to notice any change in his behavior at all.

The day wore on, and he began to get impatient as the kids returned in small groups from their trips, but there was no sign of Marie or her friends. By seven that night, he was climbing the walls.

"She's supposed to be here, 'Ro," he growled to the weather goddess, who smiled sympathetically and patted his arm. "Stop that! Stop humoring me. Where the hell is Chuck? Can't he get on the brainphone and find out where Marie is?"

"And Kitty and Jubilee, as well," Storm reminded him.

"Yeah. Them, too," he said, though they hadn't even entered into his thoughts.

"I will mention it to him when he calls, Logan, but he is on vacation, also. I'm sure the girls just got caught up in the festivities and left late. The traffic is probably terrible. They will be home soon."

"Hmph."

He stalked off and Storm let her laughter ring out. Who would have expected the Wolverine to be such a worrywart? But then, where Rogue was involved, his responses couldn't be predicted. Who'd have thought he'd stick around for so long, taking his promise to protect her so seriously? Certainly not any of the X-Men. Yet he had.

He'd also proved to be a damned fine self-defense and martial arts instructor. He was so good that she and Charles no longer worried quite as much about the younger ones joining the team when it was time. And she knew Scott was happy to let Logan handle the combat training, allowing him the freedom to focus on tactics and planning, his own strengths as a commander.

All in all, the situation had worked out very well indeed, over the past few years, though she knew neither Logan nor Scott would ever admit to it.

Shaking off such serious thoughts, Ororo made herself a cup of tea and headed up to her room for a night of backgammon with Hank.

---

First light found Logan back in the kitchen, once again reading the paper, waiting impatiently for Marie to come down. He hadn't checked, but he was sure she must have come in sometime during the night, after he'd gone out, his anxiety over her non-appearance driving him to find a fight bar in the Bronx. On the upside, he'd won over three thousand dollars. On the downside, he realized he had no interest in the pretty fight groupie who'd been hitting on him. That had been new. He'd just wanted to be home early to see his Marie.

Who apparently wasn't here.

He waited through the breakfast hour, earning himself a hard stare from Joyce, the mansion's cook, who could be heard muttering about stupid men who got underfoot and didn't belong in the kitchen.

He took it in stride. It was a game they played. She'd groan and grumble until he brought her a brace of rabbits or a freshly killed deer and some compliments about her venison stew. That would buy him a few weeks' grace to hang around the kitchen and smoke in peace.

But then he would do something like leave his empty beer bottles in the sink or finish off the roast she was planning to use for sandwiches and the game would begin again.

Taking a long drag off his cigar, he folded the paper and thought about what to do with himself. The worry was gnawing at his insides -- a feeling he wasn't used to and didn't like. He was about to head out for a trip into town on the bike when the phone rang. And rang. And rang.

"Goddammit," he muttered, after it rang seven times and no one picked up. Apparently, someone had forgotten to turn the answering machine on again. He grabbed the phone and barked, "Xavier's Freakshow."

"Logan?"

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" He knew something was wrong, and his brain immediately conjured up images of Magneto and Sabretooth attacking the young woman he had fallen in love with. "Where the hell are you?"

"Um, the car broke down, Logan, and we're stuck."

He forced himself to slow his breathing. "You're okay?"

"We're fine, sugar. Just hot and tired. Could Scott come and get us?"

Why the hell would she ask for the Boy Scout? "I'll come. Where are ya?"

"Harriman. At the Mobil Station." He heard her ask someone for the directions and then she repeated them to him.

She was about to hang up when he said, "You sure you're all right, Marie?"

He heard the sigh and could see the face she was making, first the eye-roll, then the nose-scrunch. He didn't even stop to think how girly it was to know that. He also didn't realize how he gave away his worry by using her real name.

"I'm fine, Logan. I may kill Jubilee if you don't get here soon, but that's par for the course."

"Yeah. Okay. See you in a little while."

"Be careful," she said. "Wear your seatbelt."

"Sure, kid."

---

Rogue hung up the phone and looked at Kitty. Jubilee was off flirting with the gas jockey. "How can she take him seriously in those coveralls?" Kitty said.

"I don't mind the coveralls, but you'd think he could learn not to bathe in the Paco Rabanne," Rogue replied, shielding her eyes and looking over to where Jubilee was animatedly conversing with said wage slave. Kitty laughed and Rogue continued, "Maybe she can talk him into buying us some food. I am *starving*."

Kitty looked abashed at that. It was her fault the credit card was over the limit. She'd just *had* to have that first edition of "Newton's Optical Lectures." She *knew* both Hank and Professor Xavier would be thrilled to add it to the school's collection, and the nine thousand, five hundred dollar price was a good one, she was sure.

Of course, their credit limit was only ten thousand dollars, and they'd spent a few hundred over the weekend, which meant they had been unable to stay in a motel the night before, or pay to get the car fixed.

Jubilee had run the battery down on the cell phone and they couldn't find a pay phone.

Which is a very long way of saying that the three young women spent the night in their un-air-conditioned, nineteen-ninety-eight Dodge Neon. Having only enough cash between them to afford one super-sized two cheeseburgers meal from the McDonald's across the way, they were now hot, hungry and heartily sick of each other's company.

"So, what'd Logan have to say?"

"He's coming to get us."

"Whew." Kitty smiled.

They were far less likely to get a lecture from Logan than Scott, a fact not lost on any of them, which was why Rogue had been the one making the call. She had Logan wrapped around her little finger, even if he wouldn't admit it, though she probably could have gotten Scott to do anything she wanted, as well.

Kitty sighed. The power of a pair of deep brown, puppy dog eyes never ceased to amaze her. Even over the phone.

"Yeah. He sounded weird, though. Worried."

"Well, we were supposed to get home yesterday, Rogue."

"Yeah. But it was more than that. He called me, 'Marie.' You know he never does that unless he's really worried or upset."

"He doesn't like it when you go off without him. He's afraid Sabretooth is going to get you," Kitty said.

"Nah, he's afraid you're going to find a boyfriend or something and you won't be his Marie anymore," Jubilee cracked, joining them. "Overalls-boy is going to buy us some food. What do you want?"

"Eggs and pancakes and --" Kitty began when Rogue interrupted.

"Hold on a second. What do you mean, he's afraid I'm going to find a boyfriend? I've had boyfriends. I brought Chad home--"

"And he pissed his pants when Wolvie growled at him," Jubilee answered.

"He liked Luke--"

"Luke was gay," Kitty said bluntly. "The only reason Logan let him get near you was because he knew Luke would never get you into bed."

"He was not gay!"

Kitty and Jubilee exchanged an exasperated look.

"Okay, sure," Jubilee said, obviously humoring her. "That's why he dumped you and ended up in the sack with Pietro."

"He did not dump me! It was mutual! And -- What? Pietro?"

Kitty and Jubilee nodded. "Queer as a three-dollar bill," Jubilee said.

"But, but--"

"Admit it, Rogue. You're a fag hag. Which is fine, you know, if you never want to actually get laid by someone who knows what he's doing. But if you want to get Logan between the sheets, you're going to have to bring home some real competition."

"Jubes?" Rogue asked when this extraordinary speech was finished.

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Jubilee and Kitty exchanged glances again. "If that's what you want, Rogue," Jubilee said, affecting a wounded expression.

"It took me a long time to get over Logan. I don't want to go through that again, okay? I know he sees me as his little sister or something."

Jubilee snickered. "Yeah, that's why he gets so upset when you go out on dates and stuff."

"That's his big brother act," Rogue protested. "You know, 'hurt my sister and I'll kill you.' He does it for you guys, too."

"He does Big Brother Wolvie for me and Jubilee," Kitty agreed, "but with you, he's all big bad Wolverine, the Sex Machine. The way he flirts with you--"

Rogue laughed so hard she choked. "Flirts? With me? Logan?" She had to lean against the car to remain upright, her arms clasped across her belly.

"He doesn't pull either of us onto his lap for tickle fights," Kitty pointed out. "Or let us snuggle up under the quilt on the couch with him during the playoffs."

"And he never stares at *my* ass when I'm walking away," Jubilee said. "Or touch me all the time, even when he doesn't have to."

"But he's always been like that," Rogue protested. "He knows how important physical contact is for me, and for the longest time, he was the only one not afraid to touch me." She stopped, then, to think about his behavior.

He *had* changed.

He'd always been touchy, yes. He'd hugged her and let her rest her head on his shoulder when they watched television, but that was it. He'd always known about her crush on him. She knew that. They'd had an awkward, oblique conversation about it upon his return from Canada the first time, where he'd basically told her she was too young for him and he was in love with Jean.

He'd always been careful not to lead her on, to make her think he was interested in more from her. He kept his behavior friendly, never crossing the line to lover-like.

Until recently.

"He's been flirting with me," she repeated weakly. Her friends nodded in agreement. She continued to lean against the car, afraid her suddenly-wobbly legs wouldn't hold her. "Oh, God."

---

Logan drove like a maniac, cigar stub jammed between his teeth.

It wasn't that he was afraid Marie was in danger. He just always drove like a maniac, and the lack of traffic at mid-morning on the Thruway did nothing but encourage him.

He made the trip in about half the time it would normally take, and pulled the BMW into the Mobil Station just off Route 17.

Marie, her two friends, and a seedy-looking character in grease-stained coveralls were sitting on the hood of the Neon, eating McDonald's.

Marie was laughing, her head thrown back, the column of her throat bared. He stopped and stared through the windshield.

Marie's neck was mysterious territory, rarely seen and usually covered by one of her many scarves. He wondered what it tasted like, then shook himself.

He got out of the car and the gas jockey jumped up, as if suddenly remembering he was supposed to be working, not flirting with Logan's girlfriend.

~Whoa. Slow down, bub,~ Logan told himself. ~She's not your girlfriend. Yet. And if you don't play it cool, she never will be.~

"Rogue," he said, keeping his voice low and neutral. "You ready to get out of here?"

She blushed. ~Uh oh.~ Did that mean she liked the gas jockey? Or was something else going on?

"Yeah," she said. She ducked her head and grabbed her duffel bag.

Kitty and Jubilee smiled guilelessly at him, and he knew he was in trouble. He wasn't sure yet what exactly the trouble was, but he knew he was neck deep in it and would keep sinking unless he got control of the situation soon.

"If you just pay Todd for the repairs, we can get out of here," Kitty said.

"Pay--" he growled, reaching into his wallet. "What happened to your credit card?"

Kitty flushed. "Uh, we maxed it out."

"What's this 'we,' kemo sabe?" Jubilee said, cracking her gum. She turned to Logan. "KitKat bought some book for the Prof, so we were over the limit. If you just pay Todd, Kitty and I'll drive the rust bucket and you can take Rogue." She sniggered. He narrowed his eyes, but she didn't stop. Obviously, she'd intended that double entendre, and damn his body for responding eagerly to the thought.

"I could have just given the guy the credit card number over the phone."

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't really be rescuing us, would you?" Jubilee answered reasonably.

"Jubes!" Rogue said from the front seat of the Beemer.

Something was definitely going on, and it had nothing to do with his credit card or the car repairs. He leveled a long glare at Jubilee, who shrugged and cracked her gum, slipping her sunglasses off the top of her head and onto her nose.

Ten minutes later, they were cruising back down the Thruway.

Logan shot curious sideways glances at Marie when he could, but she stared out the window. She hadn't made eye contact with him yet, which was kind of worrisome.

She took the red bandanna out of her hair and pulled the heavy mass into a ponytail. He breathed deep. She smelled of sweat and gas, leather and Marie. It was a pleasant combination.

"Oh God," she said suddenly. "I must stink. I'm so sorry, Logan. I should have ridden with the girls."

~Shit.~ He hadn't expected her to notice him breathing her in. "Nah. You smell good."

From someone less delicate-looking, the sound she made would have been called a snort, but even when she was knocking back shots of Jack and swearing like a sailor, there was something curiously ladylike about Rogue. "Yeah, okay." Her disbelief was obvious.

He took another deep breath and thought, ~This is it. Do it now. Tell her.~ "You always smell good." He nodded decisively. "I think that's why I trusted you right away."

Another snort. "I hadn't showered in a week, Logan. I must have stunk like a... really stinky thing."

"No. You smelled good. Natural. Like you. I like it." ~Work with me here, kid,~ he thought.

She darted a quick glance at him, a smile lighting up her face, before she turned back to the window. "Thanks."

He grunted in frustration. She was going to make him say romantic stuff. He hated saying romantic stuff. It never came out right and made him sound like a pansy.

"You look good, too."

She looked down at herself, and he looked as well, when he could take his eyes from the road. She was wearing a short, white v-neck t-shirt that exposed a strip of lethal skin above the waist of her low-riding blue jeans. Her arms were encased in gloves made of the softest black leather he'd been able to find, hand-made in Italy just for her. The bandanna, which had probably started out around her neck, was now holding her hair in the ponytail.

"Not exactly ready for the cover of 'Vogue'," she said.

He shrugged a shoulder. "You always look good." ~I sound like an idiot.~ Where was his usual charm? His ability to flirt the pants off any woman in a fifty-mile radius? When had he turned into a twelve-year-old boy?

She smiled again. "Thanks."

There. That was it. That smile. That's what made him feel young and stupid. Because he didn't want it to go away. He wanted to make her smile like that all the time, and he was afraid that if he said the wrong thing, she'd never smile at him again.

~This is it. Don't fuck it up.~ He removed the cigar from his mouth and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

"I'minlovewithyou," he blurted, rushing the words together.

She turned to face him so quickly he was afraid she'd get whiplash. "What?"

"I'm in love with you." Slightly slower this time.

Her reaction was not exactly what he'd been hoping for.

She burst into laughter.

He blinked.

She was still laughing.

He sucked hard on the cigar and shook his head. He was sure he was having a dream now -- a nightmare, really --and it was time to wake up.

He flexed and extended half an inch of adamantium from each knuckle, and it *hurt*.

She was still laughing.

Not a nightmare then. At least, not one from which he could wake up.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, as her giggles subsided and she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"How much did Jubes and Kitty pay you to say that?"

~What the--~ "What the fuck are you talking about, Marie?"

The good humor fled from her face. "It's not a joke?"

"A joke? I tell you I love you and you think it's a fucking *joke*? Jesus Christ, kid." He shook his head. That stung more than he thought it would.

"I'm sorry," she said tentatively.

He said nothing.

She reached over and took his hand off the steering wheel.

"I just -- You've been flirting with me." She turned his hand over, tracing the lines on his palm with her index finger, then rubbing his knuckles. "I just figured it out today." She twined her fingers with his. "You told me you loved Jean, and that I was too young," she reminded him. "I believed you."

"Well, I thought it was true when I said it," he allowed, "but it's not true anymore." He gripped her hand tightly. "So, what do you say?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

She laughed again, a nervous chuckle instead of the full-out laughter of earlier. "Um, I love you, too, Logan, but--"

He froze. "But?"

She winced and grabbed his wrist. "You're hurting me."

He dropped her hand as if it was on fire.

"But?" It was a low growl.

"It took me a long time to get over you, to deal with the fact that you didn't want me. I can't do that again. So, if this is some sort of, of pity thing or something--"

"It's not."

"Logan--"

"I'm telling you, it's not. It's definitely not pity. Listen to me." He glanced over at her, and saw she was chewing her lower lip, always a sign of nerves or deep thought. "I know you, and I know you know me. And you love me anyway. We're not -- it's not some sort of fantasy thing here. It's real. It's us. It just took me a little longer to figure it out. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"So, what?"

He huffed, exasperated. "So, you and me -- are we a thing, or not?"

"I love you. I never denied that, Logan. But you're going to have to give me some time to get used to the idea of you and me being -- a thing."

"I can do that," he said immediately.

"Can you?"

"Marie." Ignoring common sense and all driving etiquette, he cut across three lanes of traffic, pulled the BMW onto the shoulder and threw it into park, so he could face her without worrying about driving.

"Kitty and Jubes--"

"Know the way home. They've been ahead of us the whole time."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He wasn't going to let her change the subject. He turned to look at her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Darlin', I just told you I loved you. I've never said that to anyone before." She opened her mouth and he said, "Let me finish. I might have said it *about* Jean, but I never said it to her. And I never will. Because I love *you*. I don't know how many more times I'll have to say it to convince you, but I will. Because it's true."

"Show me."

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Right here, on the side of the road?"

She blushed and he wondered how far down her body it extended. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. He leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her ear. "I wanna make love to you, Marie."

He could feel her body's response, but she sighed and said, "That's not what I meant."

He sat back. "Oh. 'Cause I don't mean to brag or anything, but it'd be really good."

"You have no idea, sugar," she purred, giving him a look that warmed his blood and sent it racing south. "But I meant, I need you to act like you're in love with me, not just say it."

He bit back his first response. He had to handle this carefully. "Okay," he said after a few moments. "Can you help me out with that? Maybe give me some guidelines?"

"First, if we're a -- thing, you can't be with any other women."

"Of course," he said immediately. "Not interested in anyone but you." It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "I may look," he continued. "I mean, I'm not dead. But it's you I want."

She nodded. "Two, you can't play the big manly man all the time. If we're in a relationship," and he fought back an instinctive wince at the word, "we discuss things and make decisions together. We're partners. I don't want to be your 'little woman' or some other crap."

"Fine. I'm not up on all this Oprah bullshit, but I'm all for us being equal partners. I want you to have your space, because I want mine."

"Okay. The thing is, though, Logan, you actually have to *do* this. You have to remember to *talk* to me. You can't just --"

"Don't I talk to you now? Tell you shit I don't tell anyone else?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then-- Look, I'm not perfect. I know that. I know I'm not exactly Prince Charming." He reached out a hand and ran a finger over the white streak in her hair. "But I can show you that I love you, if you let me."

Her eyes widened but she didn't pull away at the close contact. "What are you saying?"

He brushed the pad of his thumb lightly over the curve of her cheek, too quickly for her mutation to kick in. "Let me touch you."

She swallowed hard. "I-- Logan--"

"I want you to believe me."

"I believe you." It was barely a whisper; if he hadn't had hypersensitive hearing, he'd have missed it. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Don't cry, darlin'," he said, running a hand over her hair and hugging her to him. He wanted so badly to touch her, not even to show her how he was feeling, but simply because she was Marie and he needed to touch her, to reassure her that he was there, even if he screwed up sometimes.

"I'm not," she sniffed. "I just -- God--" She pressed her lips to his chest, over his heart, and he buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply. "I never thought --never -- that you would want me like this. And now you -- God." Her words were muffled from being cradled against his chest, but he had no trouble hearing her.

"Hey, hey," he said. "I'm an idiot. I know."

She looked up at smiled, and again he realized how happy she made him, how happy he wanted to make her. "It's okay," she said. "I won't tell if you don't."

"That's my girl."

She squirmed, and suddenly was in his lap; she straddled him, pushing him back against the soft leather of the driver's seat. "Now what was that about wanting to make love to me?" she asked, looking up at him coyly through her lashes.

He didn't have to be asked twice. In a move that would have been impressive from a smaller man in a larger space, he had her on the back seat of the car in a flash.

When they strolled into the mansion kitchen two hours later, hair mussed and lips swollen, looking satisfied, Jubilee smirked.

"Good thing we called you to rescue us," she said.

"Yeah," Logan answered. "Good thing."

~end~