Logan paused in the hallway before entering the kitchen. There was the distinct sound of glass breaking, then a “fuck”, followed by the slump of a body hitting the floor.
He could easily tell who was in there and while he’d find any excuse to be near Marie…well, he wasn’t so sure putting up with Jubilee would be worth it. Especially if the firecracker had been drinking…
“Duuuuuuude, the prof is gonna be soooo pissed.”
And clearly, she had.
Christ, after spending a couple of hours in the Danger Room all he wanted was to enjoy a beer in peace.
Logan grumbled at the sound of pots and pans hitting the tiled floor, accompanied by a jumble of drunken cursing and giggling. He didn’t know how much more of this shit he could put up with.
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The first time he dared getting in proximity of the two of them after they had gone out for the night he stumbled across a conversation he didn’t think he was entirely prepared for. Which was bullshit, he thought later, because he was the fucking Wolverine.
That night Logan happened to walk by the lounge where Marie and Jubilee had stumbled into during his nightly rounds of checking the mansion. He wasn’t waiting up for Marie. He just felt better after securing the windows and doors, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, all accounted for, unharmed, not kidnapped by the Brotherhood, sober, clothed. It was just a coincidence that he stayed up later on nights she went out. It was all a part of the job and that’s exactly what he was telling himself when he strolled into the lounge and ran face first into a discussion that he couldn’t get out of his head.
Yellow was on the floor, looking worse for wear and holding onto one of the legs of the foosball table, the other hand rubbing her temple when she slurred, “Roguey, you ever think…you ever…” He heard a hiccup followed by a pitiful paff of her powers, “…uhg damn…if you keep touching Logan…” *Hic, paff*, “…and like, keep taking his healing..” *Burp, paff*. “…fuck. If you keep his healing, like, you wouldn’t..” *Hic*. “…you’re boobs would like, always be perky.” *Hic, paff*.
Marie almost rolled off the couch in a fit of laughter. Logan almost choked on his tongue. Now there were two things in his long, mostly unremembered life that could make him stop short and shut off his brain: Marie’s breasts and Marie’s laugh. Logan wasn’t entirely sure he should stick around for this, but damn if he was leaving. He had pretty much finished his rounds for the night anyway and neither Marie nor the firecracker knew he was in the room.
It wasn’t like he was spying on them. Logan had a vested interest in this conversation. His tags were currently taking up residence there and he had been meaning to check out the hospitality himself…
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Logan was brought back from that memory when he heard more commotion in the kitchen, followed by paffs and sparkles. Time to man up. That first night he learned a hell of a lot on the subject of Marie Topography that he studied later, much later, in the shower, in his bed, a couple of more times since then. He lived in a damned school; this was a place to learn, right? So he put on his best scowl and casually sauntered into the kitchen.
Surprise, Jubilee was on the floor. Again. The nearest thing she could hold onto was the leg of the kitchen chair.
Looks like someone had a problem with gravity when they drank.
Marie was fairing much better if she was upright, albeit a bit wobbly, and sifting through the fridge. She was facing away from him, bent over and he added some new pieces of information to his Marie Map for later.
“The hell is going on in here?” Yeah, just the right amount of gruffness to go with his scowl.
“Oh hey there, sugar.” No, he wasn’t going to smile at that. He was going to firmly ignore her how thick her accent gets when she’s had a few and what it did to his body. That’s the plan. Or at least it was the plan until Logan watched Marie’s eyes slide down towards his chest.
Oh yeah. That.
Well, he did just come out of the shower after finishing up his workout. Not like he was dressed to receive company. Not like he ever did that sort of thing. Logan watched Marie’s expression very carefully, taking in the unabashed hunger in her eyes. Did she just…? Yeah, she licked her lips. This might have been a good idea after all –
“No shirt, no shoes, no problem, huh Wolvie?” The one in yellow was going to have to die. No two ways about it. They would never find her body after he –
“It’s a pretty good motto, Jubes. I mean it works for Logan.” Well, if Marie thinks so. He wasn’t going to disagree with her, maybe give her The Eyebrow…
“Could make it work for you too, darlin’.” He made sure to punctuate that statement with a cocky grin and folded his bare arms across his equally bare chest. That’s right, punctuate. He didn’t need to sit in on Scooter’s pansy-ass English class. He should be teaching it if Marie’s reaction was any judge. Yeah, he knew how to end a sentence better than anyone.
And Jubilee knew how to ruin a moment better than anyone. This is exactly what her shitty excuse for a wolf whistle did - with cold, annoying, wood-reducing clarity.
“Roguey, you think the Professor should pay Logan to keep his clothes on?”
Marie was still openly staring at Logan’s arms, his chest when she let out a small “no.”
Jubilee wouldn’t be deterred. While Marie looked like she was trying to decide whether to devour Logan or jump him – why not both, he’s not picky – Jubilee dug the hand that wasn’t holding the leg of the table in a death grip into her purse. Logan was hard pressed to look away from Marie’s face to see what Jubilee was doing. Someone might want to know what she was up to during her last moments alive and he doubted the X Geeks – Scooter – would accept “annoying the shit out of me” as a valid excuse from him.
“Here you go Wolvie!” What the hell is she waving around? It’s green, floppy, soaked in whatever she’s been drinking and spilling all over herself. He doesn’t need his super senses to identify that underlying smell though. Money. Anybody with half a brain knows the smell, even if it’s saturated in booze.
Jubilee was waving crumpled, alcohol soaked bills in his general, scowling, and mostly naked direction.
“I feel kind of bad if you’re walking around half naked all the time and you’re not getting paid properly!”
Logan’s killed for a lot less. He may not remember just what for, but he knows there must have been someone who pissed him off a –
“I dunno, Jubes. Shouldn’t he put on a show if you’re gonna start throwin’ money at him?” Did that come out of his sweet Marie? And just where the hell has she been hiding that look? Her skin is plenty covered, but it’s leaving little to the imagination. Logan can’t for the life of him figure out where she’s been stowing away that oddly familiar feral smirk. If given the chance, he doesn’t think it’d take him long to find out.
In fact…“You lookin’ for a private show darlin’?” Yeah, he’s up for this. Really up. “You can even keep your money.”
“Hey!” Fuck, he forgot to kill the firecracker. “What, you do selective, pro bono work now, Wolvster? I vaguely…uh, drunkenly…somewhat remember proposing this totally legit business –“
That sets off another round of Marie laughter. “Jubes, ya didn’t propose anything! You propositioned Logan and Hank!” She’s almost doubled over she’s laughing so hard. Logan easily remembers the night they’re talking about, so it’s no big deal if he pays more attention to the new view he has of her breasts from this angle. Yeah, his tags have a nice set up. He should probably do a thorough check, though. S’only right. He’s the Wolverine; he won’t do this half-assed.
Marie’s wiping tears out of her eyes now. “There was nothin’ legit or businesslike about it! You got out your camera and told them if they stripped, you could make them stars!” She’s leaning over the island now, still laughing. Her face and chest flushed, hair askew, banging a hand on the countertop. Christ, the things he could do with that position. It doesn’t take much for Logan to picture himself behind her, except she wouldn’t be laughing. The only thing coming out of her mouth would be –
“MANimals! Ya said…ya said that’d be the name of your magazine! That…there was an un-tapped market for feral mutants!” Oh yeah. He’s still pissed about that one.
Marie is going to need a paper bag to breathe into soon. “P-p-poor Hank!” She finally manages to get out.
That cuts through Logan’s fantasy like an adamantium claw. “Poor Hank?” It’s not Hank she’s been ogling this entire time.
“C’mon Wolvie, don’t pretend to be all scandalized like the Hankster.” Yellow ‘s still waving her damn money. It’s a wonder she’s lived this long.
“Yeah sugar. Ya can’t really look too put out when ya run around the mansion like that.” Marie ended that comment with a wink and some more bending. Well it looks like he’s not the only one who knows how to end a sentence. Maybe they should work on a lesson plan. Together. In private.
He’ll reward her with a smirk and The Eyebrow. He knows it’s a combination that hasn’t failed him in the past. Add to that one bare, still-damp chest and Logan’s damn sure he’s a walking panty-melter. A part of him is a little disappointed since he’s usually in the business of ripping panties off. The thought is fleeting. He’ll make do.
“Are you guys like, visually screwing each other right now? I can’t tell from down here, but I totally don’t want to be here for it. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna barf as is.” Fuck it. He’ll make something up to tell Scooter when he starts shrieking about the body in the kitchen.
Logan unsheathes a claw and is about to get down to business when a glint of metal catches his eye. He sees Marie, still bent over and now playing with his tags, cock her head a bit. “Well I never turned down that private show.”
He pauses.
He grunts.
The Eyebrow is migrating all the way up to his hairline by now.
“Roguey –“ Logan cuts off the firecracker with a growl. Enough of this shit. He’s the fuckin’ Wolverine! So he stomps over to this brazen New Marie and before she can open that wicked mouth of hers again, he picks her up and unceremoniously dumps her over his shoulder. She squeals. God help the little fucker that tries to look up her skirt.
Yellow is about to open her mouth again, but he passes her without breaking his stride. He snatches the crumpled money out of her hand anyway.
She has the audacity to look indignant. “Hey!”
The New Marie just giggles from her position pitched over his shoulder. “Logan, I don’t think ya earned that, sugar.”
“Don’t you worry darlin’.” He gives her backside a swat. “I’m about to.”
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Story Notes:
There's no excuse for this really. It's another fluffy piece that was taking up space on my flash drive. So please make sure you haven't consumed too much sugar for the day before reading this. I will not be responsible for foof-induced coma (you can't sue me if you can't find me!). For everyone who most likely don't care MANimals is indeed real in a fake sort of way. It will be the best "magazine" never to exist! Keep an eye out kids, New Fall 2010 Edition: Photographing Your Favorite Ferals! (A Fangirl’s Guide to Stalking and Alliteration)!!
Chapter End Notes:
Oh hey again! If you would ever be so kind to leave feedback I would greatly appreciate it and I'd make sure to send you the first fake non-printed issue of MANimals. Complete with 187 inappropriate photos of everyone's favorite feral mutant. Plus I'm living off of reviews instead of Thanksgiving food this year, so I'd appreciate the sustenance :)