Logan switched on the light in his bedroom. Immaculate. Not at all as he’d left it. He stalked over to the bed and sat down with a sigh, the mattress creaking under the weight. He’d looked everywhere for Marie, she was nowhere to be found. Vanished. Into thin air. And boy was the air thin… It was like a frigid tundra out there. He went to run a big square hand over his face in frustration and paused when he saw the light glinting off of an object lying on his antique night table. His dog tags.
“I thought so…”
Logan closed his eyes against the onslaught of the memory, breathing in deep. He ground his teeth together and ran his fingers over the cold metal softly. Had she left them there? Or were they on him when he’d been in the med lab… returned by Jean? He laid back against the overstuffed pillows and held it before him in the light, tracing his name with his eyes. WOLVERINE
He sat back up, irritated, and way too damn restless to sleep. He grabbed his worn leather jacket off of the dresser and stuck his dog tags in his pocket. He had no idea where he was going, but he had to do something to get her off his mind. Or find her. Both would be good.
Logan strolled around the corner of the mansion’s kitchen, a chef’s wet dream, and was taken aback. There, straddling a backwards barstool at the giant island, with a spoon hanging from her ridiculously tempting mouth, was the bane of his existence. Rogue. He nearly smiled. Her eyes popped up as he entered and she asked innocently,
“Couldn’t sleep.” he replied, a little too short.
She quirked a brow. He went to the double door stainless refrigerator and went on the hunt for booze, as a distraction. Or beer. Whichever he came across first. He growled when he came up empty handed and leaned against the freezer door, hazel eyes coming to rest on Rogue, face imperious. She glanced down sheepishly, biting her lip, and reached under the counter between her slightly parted thighs, and came up with a frosty bottle. She placed it on the butcher's block between them. An unspoken peace offering.
Logan took in her glassey honey brown eyes, semi-flushed cheeks and perpetual grin.
“I think you’ve had enough. I’m cuttin’ you off.” he pointed at her and swiped the beer, putting it to his lips, trying desperately not to acknowledge the taste of her as he took a long swallow. His jeans got a little too tight in the crotch and he spread his legs out, hoping to hide it as best he could. He placed the bottle on the counter behind him, bracing himself with thick muscled arms. He cleared his throat, anger suddenly taking the place of lust as he started to think about how he’d spent his afternoon. He glared. She pouted. He melted. Slightly.
“Well…” she enunciated the word and couldn’t keep from giggling. Logan just shook his head and chugged half the brew.
“Rough day I take it?” he asked huskily.
Marie put her very exposed finger to her adorable chin and tapped it, thoughtfully. Well, as thoughtful as she could be, while also simultaneously holding her head up with the very same hand.
“Hmmm…” She whipped the spoon out of her mouth with a pop and used it for punctuation. “Well, if you call a bad breakup, and your defectiveness almost causing a near death experience for multiple people, after a near death experience, for multiple people, also your fault, bad, then I’d say... where did all the beer go? You drank it, huh? You could’ve shared. I shared...” she gestured with her hands, still smiling blissfully.
Logan couldn’t help it. He smirked, barely reigning in laughter.
“Who hasn’t almost died.” he met her eyes directly. “And who hasn’t had a bad break up?” he lifted his beer for emphasis.
It was her turn to smirk.
“I’d say cheers, but ya know…” she gestured to the empty space in front of her, devil may care. Logan took a sip, pointedly.
“What’s with the spoon? Need some grease to go with that booze Helps, so they say.”
“I came for the ice cream. Ya know, cliche breakup food. Found beer instead. Lucky me.” she waggled her eyebrows at him playfully.
Logan turned and opened the freezer, coming up with a carton of rocky road and set it in front of her. She peeled back the lid and submerged her spoon, pulled it out and turned it upside down, sticking it to her tongue. He hawkeyed the movement.
“So, the danger room… What happened out there?” he lifted the Miller to his lips, eyes still glued to her.
She paused, surprised. Her eyes darkened and she jutted her lower lip out, brows drawn in concentration, swirling the colors in the slowly melting ice cream suddenly becoming very interesting. He waited. She tilted her head back, hair falling in a waterfall down her back, sighing again. She met his gaze steadily, a steely edge to her voice.
“Life’s a bitch. I’m glad to be back.” Rogue smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Logan contemplated her words, leaning in against the island, coming to rest on his forearms. He reached out to grab the spoon from her and she pulled it away, glaring.
“See what happens when you don’t share?” she asked indignantly.
He set the bottle between them.
She mimicked his signature cocked brow as she considered the offer. He grabbed the spoon anyway and stuck it in the ice cream.
“See what happens when you take what doesn’t belong to you?” he mirrored her quirked brow.
She grinned and snatched back the beer.
“I guess you’re right.” she put it to her parted rosey red lips and winked. Neither one of them looked away.
“So, you finally kicked Bobby to the curb, huh? Good for you.” he said as he took a bite.
“Or something.” she took the spoon back from him, not meeting his gaze.
“The kid dumped you?” Logan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, unable to hide his surprise.
Marie glowered at the melty mess in front of her. There was both delicacy and strength in her face. She lifted her chin.
“He… It’s just… nevermind.” She shook her head, the color rising in her cheeks, dark hair swinging about her proud shoulders. Logan waited. When she didn’t continue, he took the spoon back and stole another bite of ice cream.
“So, we’re keepin’ secrets now?” he asked, offhand.
She looked him dead in the eye, her heightened color subsiding.
Logan quit chewing, heart beating wildly in his chest. He was grateful her new super powers didn’t include keener senses. Dog-like hearing for example. Or Wolverine-ish hearing. Although, she had touched him recently. Maybe they did…
He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry and laid the spoon down. She picked it up. He put the bottle to his sticky sweet lips and took a pull, scowling at the hot beer, jaw clenched, nose flared. Stalling. She kept right on eating, the air so thick with tension Logan was having trouble breathing.
“Hmm.” he said, drumming his long calloused fingers on the wooden table. Did she know?
“Truth or dare?” she pulled him from his troubled thoughts, biting her lip to stifle a grin.
His mouth quirked with humor.
“Aren’t we a little old for that game?” he inquired with deceptive calm.
“Well, if you’re chicken…” Marie shrugged, head tilted at an angle, tracing invisible patterns in the wood grain, letting the challenge dangle there between them. Logan crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes narrowed. This could be bad. Or…
The Wolverine’s sense of humor took over and his answering laugh was low and throaty.
“What the hell. Hit me.” he swallowed the last sip of beer and set it in front of him with a muffled *clink*.
The beginnings of a smile tipped the corners of her mouth.
“Truth or dare?”
Logan thought about it for a minute. *Chicken my ass…*
She leaned in close.
“What happened the day that you found me?”