Title: Crazy For This Girl (1/1)
Rating: R (language)
Category: Logan/Rogue friendship/romance, Logan POV
Summary: Logan, Rogue, and some Sunday drivin'. Pure foofy goodness.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel. The song is "Crazy For This
Girl," and it belongs to Evan & Jaron (no idea who that is - I just heard
this on a pop station on my way home from the store).
Dedication: For Die, because she deserves this. And for Nancy, who needs
balance. ;) Here's foof! :)
Author's Note: I love grilled chicken Caesar salads. Just an observation.
It has nothing to do with this fic. :) Read on.
Sometimes I have no idea how we got to this point. Other times, it's so
clear that I feel like an idiot. We're here because I *know* her, and she
Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking. "Brilliant deduction, Logan.
You're spending time together because you know each other. What a novel
concept, and ain't you a smart one?"
Well, just shut your hole and let me finish. Otherwise, I might get testy.
The thing about Marie and me is that there's no one else on this whole
freaking planet who can make that claim about either one of us. Nobody
knows us the way we know each other, and that's pretty damn indisputable.
Let me see if I can actually put this into words without sounding stupid.
This is what happened to me the moment I laid eyes on Marie: something
about her made me want to take care of her, so I ran. She followed me, and
so did that protective feeling. After a while, it didn't seem so bad, and
so I promised her I'd keep her safe, sheltered. Then we had a run-in with
the forces of darkness and all that shit, and I saved her life
Aw hell, you
know that much of the story already. Anyway, then I left her with yet
another promise - this time, I told her I'd be back.
I thought it would be a hardship, having to keep that particular vow. But
it turned out to be easy. So easy.
I wandered for a few months, checking out the leads Professor Xavier
managed to find for me, and finally hit a brick wall. Oh, I found out
exactly jack shit about my past, but that's not what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about
Drifting around the openness of the Canadian wilderness had always brought
me satisfaction. It brought me
the closest thing to peace I can ever
remember knowing. But that changed after I left that school. It was
different, driving aimlessly from town to town. Before, it always felt
like freedom, but after
It felt like wasted time.
I was seeing Marie everywhere. Not *her*, really, but parts of her; I
would see women with her hair (minus the white streaks, of course) or her
figure or maybe her walk
I didn't see it until the day I left, you know,
that easy little sway that rocks her hips when she moves. I saw it for a
grand total of five minutes, and
Without even realizing it, I began to
search. Every body, every face, and every voice
Everywhere I looked, I was
searching for traces of Marie.
A waitress in one diner had her smile and, more than once, she caught me
gazing at her full lips. I flirted shamelessly with her, just to see that
smile, over and over again. And one time I ran across a stranded motorist
who had Marie's wide, slightly nervous eyes. I changed her flat tire and
tried to stop myself from staring. Honestly, I think I creeped her out.
But I didn't figure it out, believe it or not. Something in my head didn't
click, and I had no idea I was looking for *Marie*. I didn't put two and
two together and understand what it was about those women that fascinated
me. What a moron.
Finally, one night just outside of Calgary, I was lying on the ground,
watching the stars, and it hit me, like bad Chinese food - I wanted to go
back. I wanted to hightail it back to that school and see what kind of
life I could make for myself, since it seemed that my solitary nomadic
existence was no longer working for me.
Still, nothing about Marie. No epiphanies about the girl I'd left behind,
just a sudden awareness of the gnawing emptiness inside me. It needed to
be filled, and I could think of only one place that might ease the loneliness.
So I came back. I got the whole "prodigal son returns" welcome, too; hell,
they did everything but kill the fatted calf. Xavier shook my hand,
One-Eye patted me on the back, and Storm and Jean hugged me. Marie
And it felt good, you know? Not fantastically great, or anything,
good. Familiar. Nice.
So we talked. And then we talked more, and it became sort of a routine.
I'd hang around until she finished her classes and then she'd sit in my
room and do her homework. I'd open the window and smoke a cigar, do a few
pushups, and listen to the soft rhythm of her breathing. Every once in a
while, she would ask me questions like, "What were the names of Czar
Nicholas's kids? You know, the ones who were killed by the Bolsheviks
"Do you know anythin' about vectors, Logan?" I liked having her around,
liked her smiles and her laughs. And it was comfortable.
Until I began to notice that I'd started staring at her ass a lot more than
I stared at Jeannie's.
I looked inside myself and understood that I wanted her; maybe I always
had, who knows? It wasn't surprising to me. She'd always been such a
pretty little thing, but a lot of time had passed, and she'd grown into a
beauty. And I am, after all, more animal than man a lot of the time. No,
it wasn't a big shock to me, realizing that I wanted to touch her.
What bothered me was remembering what Jeannie had said about Marie's crush
on me. Because I recalled that, and I started wondering if maybe, just
maybe, she wanted me back. And I wanted her to want me, even if I couldn't
do a damn thing about it. I liked the thought of it, you know? The
thought that someone as pure and real as Marie might see something good in me.
Things weren't so comfortable after that. Wanting someone off-limits is
one thing, but knowing that they may not be as untouchable as you'd
It puts all sorts of ideas in your head. I tried to lock them
away, shove them far back in my head where I could maybe ignore them, but I
started getting uneasy around her. Awkward. And it wasn't too long before
Marie asked me if she'd done something wrong.
I remember that it was a Sunday afternoon, and I remember the look on her
face. She was terrified by the thought that she may have alienated me or,
even worse, hurt me. And I couldn't let her think she was to blame for all
the conflicting shit rolling around inside my head, so I smiled and tugged
her hair and asked if she wanted to go for a drive.
We highjacked a car from Xavier's fleet, a convertible, and the weather was
already pretty warm, so I let the top down. The wind whipped her hair
around her face in wild, shiny tendrils, and she took her gloves off and
tried to tame it. When it looked like she might be succeeding, I drove
faster, and she laughed, finally letting it fly free.
We talked about things that didn't matter, like television commercials and
people who left their Christmas decorations up all year long. And for a
while, things were almost like before, when I didn't know that I wanted her
to look at me with desire in her eyes and my name on her lips, wrapped in a
I showed up at her bedroom door the next Sunday, keys in hand. And, every
week for months, we went driving.
she rolls the window down
and she talks over the sound
of the cars that pass us by
and I don't know why
but she's changed my mind
One day in late summer, she wore a skirt. The flowered fabric fluttered
around her bare legs and feet, and she turned to me. Her smile twisted my
stomach. "Are we goin' to our pond, Logan?" she asked excitedly, patting
the picnic basket she'd brought. "We can have lunch there and everythin'."
I arched an eyebrow, then nodded and smiled in return. It had gotten
easier, the smiling. Something about seeing her so happy
It was always the
tiny things that pleased her, too, like lunch by "our" pond or being able
to forego jeans or tights without scaring the hell out of people. If I
could give her those things, I would. Hell, if she asked me for the moon,
I'd probably start making phone calls.
She reached out to adjust the volume on the radio. It was one of those
bubble-gum boy bands that she and her little friends like. At one time, I
would have poked a claw rather viciously through the receiver before I
listened to that crap. But she seemed to like the song; she was singing
along, and rocking her head back and forth to the light, airy rhythm. The
song still sucked, but I tuned it out and just enjoyed driving down the
blacktop with Marie by my side.
would you look at her
she looks at me
she's got me thinking about her constantly
but she don't know how I feel
and as she carries on without a doubt
I wonder if she'll figure it out
I'm crazy for this girl
I've always liked being outdoors, but the night is my domain. Wolverines
are nocturnal creatures, and I guess I live up to the name. But seeing the
afternoon sun reflect off Marie's hair could have changed my mind in a
heartbeat, made me trade night for day.
She flopped down next to me in the grass, leaning on her side and one
elbow, and sighed. "God, isn't it beautiful, Logan?"
"Yes." She didn't need to know that I was talking about her and not the
little bit of nature surrounding us. I picked at a blade of grass and
concentrated on not reaching for her.
In the last few months, even my fantasies of her had evolved. Gone were
the half-formed images and sounds of panting breaths and hands clutching
for purchase in a maelstrom of passion. When my self-control failed me,
what I now saw behind closed lids was exactly what was before me - Marie,
stretched out on a carpet of green, her hair spilling around us both, her
eyes smiling up at me.
I had my fantasy, and a smart man wouldn't fuck that up.
"I brought you somethin'," she confessed, raising one silk-gloved hand to
show me an odd flowery thing. It looked like a thin cotton puff on a green
stalk. "It's dandelion," she explained at my blank look. "Blow on it,
She demonstrated, and the fluffy white disappeared from the stalk,
scattering in the air in feathery dissonance, bounding off each other in
currents of breeze. Her grin brightened her face, and she almost laughed.
It was such a simple thing to be entertained by, and that's Marie. Not
easily amused, but able to find joy in her surroundings.
Suddenly, I wondered why the hell I didn't see it straight out of the gate.
The protectiveness and affection, when I couldn't recall caring for anyone
or anything but my own survival. The need to be around her constantly,
even if it was only to hear her breathe or fidget in a chair. She changed
me, changed the way I think.
I didn't just *want* her - I *loved* her.
She opened one of my hands and I looked dumbly down at our entwined
fingers. She placed one of the dandelion stalks in my hand and whispered,
"Try it. It's fun."
The strange bloom was caught and crushed between smooth silk and rough skin
as I grasped her hand, drawing it to my mouth.
There was a moment of confusion in her eyes, and then they softened, and
she smiled at me. It warmed me in ways the fading sunlight never could.
My breathing was shaky as I gently eased her onto her back.
"Logan?" My name was a question on her lips, and I didn't know if I could
answer it. I didn't know what she wanted to hear.
Finally, I resolved to tell her what I needed to say, do what I needed to
do; if it was something she didn't want, she could run screaming. I'd deal
with my broken heart later.
" My hands were careful in her hair as I stretched my body above
I want to touch you."
I expected a shy nod or a freaked-out gaping stare or
anything but what I
got. She reached up and I felt silk on my face as she stroked my cheeks
and lips. "Logan
I've been wonderin' if you were ever gonna get around to
A growl rumbled up through my chest, and she grinned. "Are you sure, Marie?"
You have no idea how sure I am, sugar," she whispered, running her
hands to the back of my neck and then up into my hair.
Believe it or not, I was at a loss. I didn't know what to do. I looked
down at her, feeling her fingers slip through my hair, and I could see
myself reflected in her eyes. I looked shell-shocked. Finally, she
laughed tenderly and disentangled one of her hands, reaching down to grasp
mine. "Anything, Logan, just
Touch me. Please." She placed my hand on
her chest, right above her heart.
I could feel it thumping crazily. Her ribs were rising and falling rapidly
in time with her breathing, and I became fully aware of her soft form under
me. Closing my eyes, I bent to where my hand lay, replacing it with my
"Talk to me, Logan."
I looked up, and her eyes were shining. So I did, whispering about nothing
in particular, just nonsense, and I pressed my lips to the scarf that
covered her throat.
She jumped and moaned, and I wondered why I'd gone so long without seeing
that she needed this as much as I did. I opened my mouth, letting heat and
wetness bleed through the sheer white fabric. She shivered, clutching my
shoulders with her tiny hands. My tongue stroked the cloth over her skin,
and she breathed my name.
I looked up. Her head was tossed back into the grass, and she had
dandelion bits clinging to the tangled strands. A flush had crept over her
skin, staining it a becoming pink. Her lips had parted, and she was
"God, you're beautiful, Marie," I mumbled, reaching down to clutch at her
hip. It was soft and yielding under my hand as I smoothed her skirt across
it. "I could look at you all the time
She raised her head a bit, and sighed. "I wish
I wish you could kiss me,
Logan." Her mouth trembled as she formed the words.
Remember what I said about her asking for the moon? Well, a kiss was
nothing compared to that. "I
could, Marie." I gazed at her seriously,
waiting for her answer to my unspoken question.
It took her a minute to respond, and she shook her head. "No, Logan. It
would hurt you, and
When you hurt, I hurt."
My heart clenched painfully in my chest. I knew that I felt that way about
To hear her echo the words I hadn't said, to hear them fall from
her lips like a benediction
It sent a shiver through me, straight to my
core. I didn't know what I could give her, ever, that would mean half as
much as what she'd just handed me. With trembling hands, I lifted the
scarf to her face. "Hold still, Marie."
It floated down to rest on her face. I could still see her through the
nearly transparent material, her eyes exposed and blinking. She was
nervous about it, about our first kiss. I leaned down slowly, braced on my
elbows, and brushed my lips against her nose. "I love you," I breathed as
I closed the distance between our mouths.
She was trembling, hesitant, and I coaxed her softly, urging her to open
for me. I needed to taste her, and until she agreed to touch me
unprotected until I'd crawled inside her head forever, it was the only way.
Finally, her lips parted and her tongue met mine through the cloth. It was
the most erotic thing I'd *ever* experienced in my life, Marie's kiss. It
was slow and moist and I wanted to make it deeper. So much deeper. The
need to be inside her body rose up within me, growling with animal urgency.
The need to mate, to claim
To make sure she knew she was mine, and mine
But what I couldn't do with my body, I would do with words. And, when the
time was right, I would find a way to make her feel all the things that
simple kiss did to me. "I love you, Marie," I whispered again, shaking
with the force of the sensation throbbing in my body and heart. "God, baby
The scarf disappeared from her face, and tears were streaming out of her
eyes, down her face and into the hair at her temples. Fear spiked in me,
and I swallowed convulsively. Had I hurt her somehow? Had I done
Then she breathed, and it became a sob. "I love you, too," she told me,
her voice breaking. "I'm sorry
"Sorry?" She was *sorry*? Shit. My eyes snapped shut. She was about to
destroy me. She had me in the palm of her delicate little hand, and she
was about to crush me. "You're *sorry*?"
Her sobs increased in both frequency and volume, and she clutched my face
in her hands. "I should
be strong, Logan. I
should let you go."
Shit, shit, shit. Fuck. "Marie--"
"There's so much I
want to give you, but
I can't, Logan," she wailed.
"It's not fair! It's not
fair for you."
Holy hell, she was worried about *me*? About being enough for me? "Jesus,
" My voice lowered to a near growl. "Listen to me, darlin'. I'd be
happy sitting in a room, listening to you read the phone book, all right?
Just as long as you were *there*."
"Not everything, baby. It can be so cheap
You can't imagine." I closed my
eyes, willing her to *see*. "What you are to me is more than that. It's
so much more, Marie. Please don't do this. Don't turn me away because of
Her sobs subsided into soft hiccups. "But will it be enough, Logan?" she
asked, and her eyes were sad and old, so much older than they should have
"It'll be everything, Marie. Forever." I dragged her hand to my face and
pressed a fevered kiss to her palm. Her red-rimmed eyes widened at the
word, and I repeated it vehemently. "Forever, Marie."
She smiled shakily, and the fear inside my stomach eased. It would be
fine, because all I needed was to have her near me. If she believed that,
if she trusted me enough to know how much I cherished her
It would be forever.
right now, face to face
all my fears pushed aside
and right now
I'm ready to spend the rest of my life
"It's easy to moon over a lost love - to fantasize over what might have
been, secure in the knowledge that it'll never happen. It makes a great
excuse for not facin' the risks and demands of reality."
--Logan, "The Uncanny X-Men" (#183)