‘Poor kid’, Logan thought as he made his way up to Marie’s room, balancing a steaming mug of coffee and a box of Twinkies in one hand, the books she needed for her homework in the other. It was day three after the ‘Logan is a complete moron’ incident, as he liked to call it, and he was surprised she wasn’t already climbing the walls out of boredom.
Three days ago, Marie had talked him into letting her ride his bike. All would be fine, she’d assured him, the Logan in her head knew how to ride one. He’d believed her. Until she’d landed head-first in the hedge, the bike landing on her leg and breaking it in three places.
Of course she’d refused to let him heal her, saying something about it being her own fault, yadda, yadda, yadda, and so she lay upstairs in her bed, leg in a cast. She had graciously allowed him to tend to her every need, and the guilt eating away at his insides stopped him from feeling insulted. Or whipped.
She was reading a magazine when he entered her room, Cosmo or some other chick mag, and he unceremoniously dropped the box of Twinkies on top of it.
“Hey! I’m reading here.”
He just rolled his eyes and placed the coffee on her bedside table, then put the books on her desk. “You’ll live.”
Making a sound that came as close to a growl as she could muster, she ripped open the Twinkie bag and took one out, unwrapping it. “Want one?”
“Nah, I’ll pass.” He sat in the armchair she’d put in the corner, propped his feet up on her computer chair and thumbed through her history book. “How’s ‘Ro gonna take your test? Come up here or what?”
He looked up, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Marie held a Twinkie to her mouth, sucking the filling from it, and continued reading her magazine. At his question, she looked up and mumbled around the Twinkie, “Dunno.” Cream squeezed out at the side, and when she scooped it up with her finger and licked it off, he nearly swallowed his tongue.
Unable to tear his gaze away, he raised his arm as though looking at his watch. “Oh, this late. I, uh, I gotta run. Cyke had this thing he wanted...”
Her tongue snaked into the Twinkie, pink and glistening, and now he was sure she was grinning. Grinning in a way that no 19-year-old virgin should be able to.
“I gotta go.”
When he fled her room, the last thing he saw were her tongue, coated in sticky white cream, and a devilish smile that made her eyes light up. Fuck.
Shower. Cold shower. Yes, shower sounded good.
The END
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I’m sure this has been done before, but I need to take a break from my L&O:CI story, and when this bunny bit me in the butt (heh), it hung on.