Logan’s boots crunched on the snowpack, his breath a white patch of mist in the frigid winter air. He’d been pleasantly surprised by Marie’s survival skills when they’d abandoned the jeep halfway up Mount Athabasca in a remote part of Canada. Two weeks into their trek “to the next town,” as Marie so charmingly put it, the girl had spent the last of her accumulated funds from her cage fight domination across the lower Canadian states and Alaska buying enough dry goods, preservatives, fuel, warm clothing, and, as she quaintly said, “her feminine supplies,” at the last supply store within 25 miles. As a surprise, she had splurged on a good deal of cheap cigars and beer for Logan, who had given her a toothy grin when the swarthy, mullet-headed store clerk had helped them load the back of the jeep.
Logan had checked the anti-freeze levels on the jeep, then helped Marie push it into a warm, dry cave. She had, of course, insisted he check it for bears first. It was well below freezing, and Logan assured her that most bears would be heading to sleep by now, and most definitely not in this particular cave.
“Come on Logan, I ain’t putting my jeep in that cave without knowing that Smoky isn’t going to birth babies in it this winter!”
“Look, kid,” Logan began, but was rudely interrupted by the growl of, yes, a bear, standing in the doorway of the cave. “Sonufabitch.” he hissed.
“Don’t worry Logan,” Marie called. He glanced upwards to see her floating well out of reach of both him and the bear, smirking in a self-satisfied-female sort of way, “I saw on a documentary that bears are scared of Wolverines!”
“Thanks, kid.” he yelled upwards, sarcasm thick in his voice "When's the last time she watched basic cable anyways?" he grumbled.
"I heard that." she drawled, "I borrowed your super sensitive hearing when I touched you, remember?"
Turning, he faced down the bear, which roared and lifted onto its massive hind legs. All two thousand pounds of kodiak grizzly towered an easy three or four feet over Logan’s head. He popped his neck, feeling a vein throbbing in his forehead in exasperation. If there had been another cave nearby, he’d have rather just moved the damn vehicle, Marie, however, had insisted that this was the only cave worthy of hiding anything valuable within a thousand miles.
Personally, he thought she was full of shit, but then again, it must be a damn good cave if a grizzly that big was planning on making it home for the winter. His thoughts were interrupted by a vicious swat from the bear, which sent his body slamming into the nearest pine tree. Dashing water from his eyes, Logan let out a roar that was far more vicious than anything the bear could ever have hoped to compete with. His claws unsheathed, wickedly sharp.
The bear froze, glancing, confused, from the claws to the feral roar exploding from Logan’s body as the Wolverine stepped in, blood lust enhanced haze turning his vision a pale shed of red. In response, it promptly fled up the nearest tree, which happened to be a young sapling frozen solid. It snapped and flipped backwards with a loud ‘thwack!’ The embarrassed bear promptly disappeared down the nearest embankment, much to Marie’s amusement.
The Wolverine snarled, intending to rip his opponent into pieces. He charged towards the bear's path of retreat. Soft hands suddenly encircled his waist, each with a grip like iron. Firm fingertips rubbed gentle circles on his stomach through his layers of clothing, leaving warm trails behind them. His back sank into the oh-so-soft curves of the Rogue. His mouth ran slightly dry at the blatant reminder of her femininity, the cold air suddenly burgeoning on steamy. His claws slid back into his fists slowly as his now leather gloved hands gripped the small, gloved hands below his own. He felt the Rogue tense as Logan gained control of the Wolverine, allowing the animal to bury his instincts deep inside him. As he relaxed, so did Marie, who gently pulled herself away from their backwards embrace with the half-smile he'd grown so fond of over the past few weeks.
He wistfully glanced after her as she hefted her massive pack with ease, shlepping it onto her back and turning to face a narrow, snow covered trail, "You coming?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
Logan winced, slightly embarrassed she'd caught him staring. He grunted noncommittally, lifted his half of the goods, and turned to follow her. A crisp, cold breeze blew her hair in all directions, the scent slamming into his olfactory glands like a freight train.
Damn she smelled good. Like food, sunshine, shampoo, and underneath a scent that was subtly her, something that, maybe, was what he imagined home would smell like.
Three hours later, the sun sinking behind the mountains, they had reached the tiny, well kept cabin hidden away in a cleft of rock that blocked most of the wickedly sharp wind that howled throughout the mountains. The evidence of the rock's protection showed in the lack of snow directly around the house. Logan glanced appreciatively at the well chinked walls and the sturdy stone chimney. Someone had built this cabin to last. Marie had fumbled through one of her hiking packs until she found a large, older brass key which fit into the iron lock with a 'click.' He heard the tumblers clink together as she turned the key gently, the lock snapping back with an audible 'thunk!'
The door swung open to reveal a large open room with a set of open backed stairs leading up to a second story loft. A large natural stone fireplace took up one corner of the room. Across from it, an old leather chair and a beat-up aztec patterned sofa were situated in an 'L' shape facing the fire place. A massive natural pine coffee table held a stack of battered board games and a deck of dog-eared cards. The great room also held a round, claw legged dining table with a set of battered woven-bottomed chairs, which led into a small but functional kitchen. The stove was natural gas while the fridge was a battered, fifties style model that looked like it could only hold half of the food they had brought with them.
A tiny bathroom with claw foot tub and pedestal sink caught his eye down the small hallway next to the kitchen. He grunted, pleased. At least he had somewhere to drain the weasel, it would be rather mortifying to look at piss-yellow snow outside the door every morning. A door next to the bathroom smelled strongly of earth and cement, so it was easy for him to assume that the rest of the food was going in the basement, which would be cold enough to keep milk as the first heavy snowstorms settled in for the season.
"Well," Marie began, slightly awkward as she settled her bags down on the floor, "It's not much, but it'll do."
Logan followed her lead and dropped his pack on the oh-so-broken-in looking couch, "Where're we sleeping?"
Marie looked at the open backed stairs and tilted her head. Logan unlaced his combat boots, leaving them on the muddy mat by the door, then trotted up the stairs as Marie began doing the same. Upstairs, the loft held a queen sized bed with one shabby art deco night stand parked in the corner. A beat up, tube television was settled on an old card table against the half wall that protected you from falling from the second story into the great room below. Next to the television was a VCR-DVD combo and a pile of random DVDs ranging from old Disney flicks to hard core horror flicks like Saw.
"If there's a TV, how do we turn the power on?" Logan said, turning as he heard Marie's feet creeping up the flight of stairs.
"There's a vented generator in the basement. I've got quite a stock pile of gasoline, so should have plenty for the winter. Heat's the only problem. We've got the fireplace, and ourselves." she chuckled. The pair walked back downstairs, Marie cobbling together a small dinner from tuna and some noodles. Hot tea accompanied the dinner, and the two ravenous travelers were quick to devour the meager spread before them.
"Where'd you get this place?" Logan asked, later, as he lit a roaring fire and battened down the hatches. His keen nose could smell the wicked winter storm boiling there way from several counties over. Marie frowned, sadness enveloping her as she sat in the overstuffed armchair, facing him where he lay on the couch.
She whispered, "Once, when I first got my powers, I met a lady named Carol Danvers." Marie said, lip trembling. "I killed her."
"To get the cabin?" Logan asked, almost horrified.
"NO!" Marie yelped, "I touched her and I just couldn't let go... before I knew it, she was inside my head. Permanently."
Logan watched as a silent tear slid down Marie's cheek to drop onto the cold hardwoods below. Fuzzy, woolen socks and all, he knelt next to her chair, his finger sliding along her bare skin to scoop up the next tear before it could hit the ground. "It's alright," he whispered, hand cupping her cheek through a curtain of her silky hair, "Did she build this place?"
"Yes," Marie replied, "When I took her powers, I sort of inherited all of her earthly possessions. This cabin was really the only thing I was interested in. I just wanted to get away from it all, to, well, forget."
"You want to forget, and I want to remember." Logan mused, "Ki...Marie, I think we're quite the pair."
The half-smile beamed through the twilight of the firelight shrouded room. Laughing, Logan scooped Marie up and carried her up the stairs to bed. Dropping her unceremoniously into a massive pile of quilts, he snagged one for himself and headed back down to bar the doors and windows before crashing on the couch. Just as he dropped the bar over the door, which opened inwards, a tiny voice called his name from above.
Worried, he walked upstairs, his spiky hair poking over the half-wall protection. "You say something, Marie?" he asked.
"Yeah..." The girl whispered. Blankets were pulled up to her chin. "I'm cold...would you stay, please?"
Logan blushed profusely beneath his sideburns, then shrugged off his tank top, jeans, and socks. Sliding into the bed behind her, he positioned himself so that he wasn't touching her skin, tugging her long john clad body into his muscular arms.
Marie's phenomenal scent was already permeating the room. A comfortable warmth spread throughout his body, muscles relaxing as something primeval uncurled in his gut. The Wolverine snarled in a satisfied, I'm-eventually-going-to-get-my-way sort of mode. Logan could already tell, it was going to be a long damn winter.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: Thank you for the reviews so far! I greatly appreciate all of your comments! This week’s theme music is “Jaded” by Aerosmith from their album Just Push Play.
“Hey, Ja-Ja-Jaded, you got your momma’s style but your yesterday’s child to me, so Jaded. You think that’s where it’s at, but is that where it’s supposed to be?”
Chapter Two: Runnin’
“Hey, Ja-Ja-Jaded, you got your momma’s style but your yesterday’s child to me, so Jaded. You think that’s where it’s at, but is that where it’s supposed to be?”
Chapter Two: Runnin’