CHAPTER TWO: ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT?

How did she do that?

Logan padded silently back to his room, hands clenched at his sides, the lack of sleep making him even grouchier than usual. Trying desperately to remind himself that Rogue was still a kid, The Kid in point of fact, and that no, he didn’t have permission to slam her against the bedroom wall and fuck her til she screamed his name with pleasure. Her twenty-third birthday having passed him by or no. But it did no good: The scent of her clung ever so slightly to his shirt, where he’d leaned against her to take the phone, making his skin itch with the desire to touch her. To find out how good her control was, now she’d learned how to turn on and off her skin. The mix of shampoo and lotion and plain old Marie was still wafting about him, prettier’n just about any other smell he could imagine- And he’d imagined. He’d imagined plenty, these last few months since he got back from Japan. Girl coulda turned up covered in pig slurry and something told him she’d still have him hot and bothered in the space of a heart-beat-

Just like she had back there.

And once again we’re back to how does she manage to do that? He thought irritably. Because Jesus, that girl can even make Snoopy pjs look hot…

“I really am a dirty old man,” he muttered to the surrounding darkness then, trying to force himself (and by himself he meant his dick) into calmness. And knowing he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell o’ succeeding, what with his brain continually replaying that cute, sexy, slightly lost expression she’d worn as he hung up the phone. A sleepy Marie really was a pretty Marie; And a pretty Marie really was a sexy Marie. He could just sneak back to her room and check to see if she was still wearing those pyjamas- Maybe ask her whether she wanted him to show her the kinda stuff he wore in bed- Which was basically jack shit- Nada-

Okay, we are not going stalker on her, bub, he told himself firmly.

Besides, deprive her of that not-needed beauty sleep and she’ll kill us.

Reluctantly, he conceded that his inner monologue mighta had a point.

So he pressed on. Trying to walk off the hard-on. Around him he could hear the sounds of the Mansion, the kids snoring lightly, the adults tossing and turning, unable to unwind after the mission just gone though not a one of ’em would ever admit it. To his right he could hear Jimmy, the boy who never slept, changing the channels. By the sound of things he was using his abilities to tune into the Playboy Channel, despite the lock Hank’d put on R-Rated TV. Logan didn’t know what the geeks were so worried about: The kid was seventeen years old, what did they expect him to wanna watch? Beast was still working, walking along the walls from the sound of it. Storm and Kurt were- Okay, he did not wanna listen to that- Although it was kinda nice to know the elf wasn’t in the doghouse anymore; he’d been worried she’d never forgive him fer forgetting their anniversary or some shit… A kid was listening to an I-Pod three floors away, one of the newbs was skyping to her mom in French. Everywhere the usual sounds of the Mansion washed over him, soothing in their familiarity: At some point in the last six years this place had become home fer him, despite the many annoyances and restrictions it placed on his time. And his drinking. He missed its noises, its predictability when he was on the road-

Which brought him back to Marie.

It always seemed to come back to Marie.

Logan sighed then. He really was gonna haveta do something about that situation. Because there was only so much time a man can spend lying to himself before the truth comes and bites him on the ass. And the truth had done so three months previously: His (now ex)girlfriend, Yukio, had summoned him to Japan only to break it off with him. Her reason: You’re clearly in love with Marie, anata, she’d told him. For such a smart man, you are being remarkably dense. And then she’d bid him farewell. Told him to take a hike as calmly as if she were reporting the weather in Tokyo that day. Logan knew deep down that she was just trying to spare face in front of a man who’d hurt her, but it had still been a sucker-punch. And when he’d come home it’d felt as if everyone knew what she’d said. He felt like he was walking around with pervert who crushes on young women tattooed across his forehead, and he didn’t like it none. Especially when he was forced to concede that darling Yukiko kinda, sorta had a point. Even Jubes had take to grinning at him like she knew something he didn’t, and normally she was on his side. But what was he supposed to do? Just turn around and announce to Rogue that he wanted her? Bring her out, get her drunk and see how far he got? He couldn’t do that to her, he was his girl. His Marie. She thought of him like a father-figure, everyone knew it. And every guy she’d dated had been the opposite of him: Stick-up-his-butt Bobby, sensitive, likes-puppies-and-pot-pourrie Pyotr. That hayseed Guthrie, with the annoying kid sister and the perfect hair. Not a badass among ’em. Not one of ’em suffering from even a touch o’ the beast. Clearly, if Marie had a type it was the opposite of the Wolverine-

And that did present a problem, if you’d just realised you might kinda, sorta, be nuts about the girl.

Because dammit, why did he haveta fall fer the one woman in the Mansion who resolutely wasn’t interested in him? And could probably deck him if he tried to get it on?

Logan sighed then. Stopped in the darkness. He shouldn’t be thinking about this; He should be thinking about Kitty’s big day. The Parker kid had asked his advice about the ring before they left fer New Orleans, so it hadn’t exactly been a shock to hear he’d popped the question. He was more surprised that he’d allowed Jubilee along fer the ride. It wasn’t like Pete’d asked his permission or some shit like that: He’d just asked fer Logan’s promise not to kill him so long as he made Kitty happy. And Logan had been happy to give it. Well, more or less. Truth be told Logan had admired the kid fer having the balls to square up to him. Skinny he might be but Parker had a back-bone, everyone knew that. He wouldn’t have trusted him with the pum’kin’s happiness if he didn’t. And besides, you needed to be tough to survive Kitty: She was to nice little Jewish girls what he was to clean-cut superheroes, saving the world be damned. Despite himself his mouth lifted in a slight smile: At least someone in the Mansion was getting on with their love-life, even if it wasn’t him. He shook his head, remembering the first time he’d met Kitty six years ago, and wondering how he’d ended up being such a part of her life that her husband-to-be asked his permission to marry her-

But then, like everything else to do with the Xavier Mansion and its younger female occupants, things never went the way you expected them to. Fer him or anyone else.

He stopped walking then.

Squeezed the bridge of his nose and wondered whether he should started packing. Jubes would expect him and Marie at least to haul their ass down to Dixie fer the ceremony, and he fer one sure as Hell wasn’t gonna fly. He considered popping back to Marie’s room and asking her what she felt like doing, but decided against it. He might start thinking that checking out those Snoopy pjs was a good idea again, and no good could come of doing that. He listened carefully, but she wasn’t pacing. The bed was creaking with her movements, which told him she was probably going back to sleep. It was good, he decided: They could get together in the morning and decide what they wanted to do. He was too awake now to go back to sleep anyway: He’d take his bike out fer a ride, try to clear his head. Maybe head into town fer a brew. He padded through the Mansion, stopping by his room only to pick up shoes and his leather jacket, Marie’s bed still creaking as she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, and then headed out into the night-

Which wasn’t exactly his smartest move.

Because if he’d held on a little longer he might have heard just how “uninterested,” Rogue was in him.

How much she liked the idea of a beast in her man, given the right incentive and enough time.

But he was halfway to Westchester by the time she finally stopped calling out fer him-

And they left fer New Orleans the next day, neither of them having gotten much sleep. Though both of them were, strangely enough, cranky and tense the entire ride.

Like he’d said, How did she do that?