5372Fic: We, (1/1) Logan/Ororo/Jean/Marie [R] X1
- Oct 13, 2003Logan gets lucky in a really strange
kind of way.
This story is occurs during the first
X-Men movie, on the night before the
Professor tells Logan about Alkali Lake
and the morning immediately after.
I spent a lot of time debating with
myself as to whether or not this story
should be posted here or at the yahoo
groups femslash site. I solved the
problem by posting it to both places.
I do not own the characters of Ororo,
Jean, Marie or Logan. Hell, I wouldn't
want to own Logan -- he's smelly, hairy,
foul-tempered, barely paper-trained, and
would always be stealing beer from my
refrigerator. Ororo, Jean or Marie, on
the other hand, I would love to own --
either as a matched set or individually.
But, alas, that's not meant to be.
Instead, those characters are the property
of Marvel Comics.
As a firm believer in property rights, it's
only reasonable that I specify that my use
of these characters should in no way be
interpreted as a threat to Marvel's ownership
All of my fan fiction, including this story,
is a not-for-profit venture. After all, when
you get down to it, who would pay for this
This story is rated R for sexuality and for
being just plain weird.
***** Evening: Logan and Ororo *****
Until now, things have been kinda tough for me here at the school
when it comes to women.
I think the world of Marie. And, yeah, I feel for her in a way that,
before I met her, I didn't think was possible. And I know that we'd
be able to work around Marie's problem -- a lot of people have no
imagination. But the difference in our ages... Hell, she's just a
kid. Would it be fair to make a play for her? Especially since I
don't have a clue as to who or what I really am?
No. I knew from the beginning that it would be better if I bury what
I feel. Marie's got enough problems as is. I'll find an excuse and
clear out. That'll hurt her at first. But at that age, they're
incredibly adaptable. And she's so damn beautiful -- the boys here
are all giving her the eye. Once I'm gone, they'll go after her and
she'll hook up with one of them. And if the little bastard hurts her,
Whoa! Easy there.
Man, I'm sure doing a great job of forgetting how I feel about Marie.
And then there's Jean. She hides so much of herself, but she's like a
freaking dynamo. I can taste, smell, and feel the energy she sends
off. And, yeah, she pretends otherwise, but she's definitely sending
a lot of it in my direction. I don't know if Scott is man enough for
her. And I'm not really giving him a hard time when I say that,
because I'm not sure that I am either. There's something about Jean
that just doesn't register as quite right. Something very powerful.
Something really dangerous. I don't know what it is, but I do know
that it sets me on fire whenever I'm near her.
I think it's the same way with Scott. He just doesn't realize it the
way I do. Funny that we have that in common.
So here I am. Every day I see a girl I care for and a woman I want --
and I shouldn't have the girl and I can't have the woman. Two
different angles, but the end effect is the same. I'm one horny son-
of-a-bitch. And then this thing with 'Ro comes out of nowhere.
Don't get me wrong. To know 'Ro is to like her and want her. And if
it wasn't for that "Look -- Don't Touch" attitude she sends out,
she'd have guys hanging off of her like ornaments on a Christmas tree.
I'm good at reading people. But I never sensed any deep attraction
from 'Ro to yours truly. A little, yeah. But nothing major. But then
she shows up at my door in the middle of the night. She doesn't say a
damn thing at first. She just takes my hand and leads me back to bed.
The next few hours are just about the only time since I got here that
I've been able to stop thinking about Marie and Jean. The only other
times involved life-threatening violence.
This is nuts. Just nuts. But who the hell am I to complain? She's
curled up next to me, warm in my arms. 'Ro's scent is different from
anyone else I've ever known. It's earth, prairie grass, late summer,
distant rain, and the tang of an oncoming storm. It's not entirely
human. That business about her being a goddess? Everyone else laughs
that off -- I'm not so sure.
"I'm sorry, Logan," 'Ro suddenly says in a soft voice clogged with
"Something wrong, darlin'?" I ask carefully. Women can be really
complex about sharing a bed. Hot as the hinges of hell one second.
Filled with second thoughts the next.
She kisses me. Hard. Really hard. And something isn't quite right
with that. Before, when 'Ro kissed me she was direct, but not rough.
Now, it's like she's younger. Less experienced. More anxious. Wanting
to cram as much as she can into every second.
What the hell?
"We haven't been very fair to you," she says softly.
What's with this "we" stuff? Is it part of her goddess thing --
talking like royalty? Strange. And there's something weird about her
voice. 'Ro's accent comes and goes. Sometimes it's really strong.
Sometimes its nonexistent. She was actually born in the US, but
raised in Africa, so I guess that's not too crazy. What's strange is
the way she said "very fair to you". It was more like "ver-ah far
t'yoo". Almost southern.
I hold 'Ro closer. She's been good to me and I don't want her to be
hurt or unhappy. Besides, if anyone here is being unfair, it's me,
"C'mon, 'Ro. Tell me what's wrong," I order gently.
Another kiss. This time she's much more gentle and understanding.
And 'Ro's body language changes. It's like... this is hard to
explain. It's like she's someone else. And the kiss is her way of
saying "thank you" and "I wish" both at the same time. And that
doesn't track. Despite the fact she's currently occupying the really
beautiful half of my bed, 'Ro has never cared that deeply about me.
I'm thinking too damn much. Something's bothering 'Ro and I've gotta
But now 'Ro is pushing her face into my chest. I feel a wet warmth
there and her shoulders shake just a little. Oh, dammit, she's crying.
"Hey. It's OK, 'Ro. Everything will be OK," I say a little
helplessly. I've never been good with crying women. I rock her gently
and begin stroking her hair and back. Until she talks to me, it's all
I have to offer.
'Ro finally says something I understand,
"The Professor found something about your past. Something up in
Canada. He's going to tell you tomorrow morning."
She's so upset that her speech pattern is way off again. Now her
voice is clipped and harder than before, with only a trace of tears.
"I'll have to go check it out," I say, still carefully rocking her.
"We know," she says softly.
"I'll be back as soon as I can. 'Ro -- it's hard for me to say this.
But this place, the people here..."
I couldn't quite finish what I was trying to say. I don't think the
word "home" has ever come out of my mouth -- at least when I'm
talking about myself.
"We know," she says again, reaching up and laying a gentle hand on my
We're still for a long moment. And then she suddenly straightens up
and looks me in the face. She has a sad smile and a few tears.
Instinctively, I lick the tears away. When I'm done, she kisses me
again. Her kiss is back to being pure 'Ro. Deep and powerful. Unlike
the last two kisses, this one is far more physical than emotional.
And it's an invitation.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn't stop myself. My hands slide downwards
along her back. Her fingers become tangled in my hair while a long
leg curls around my thighs and pulls me closer to her. I gently bite
her lower lip as she rubs her breasts against my chest.
This'll be the third time.
Something about the number three...
It's lost to me as 'Ro turns over on her back, pulling me with her --
she's one hell of a strong woman. Then her legs open, and I enter
her, and she gasps as her calves scissor around me, and there is no
more room for thought. And whatever I was thinking -- that thing
that's nagging at me just on the edge of understanding -- vanishes as
I become a part of this particular goddess' paradise.
***** Morning: Jean and Marie ******
I found Marie sitting alone in the kitchen with a full cup of coffee
in front of her. Logan's parting gift was coiled on the table next to
the coffee cup.
She looked up at me as I entered. A shy smile appeared on her face
and then quickly vanished, while a slight blush remained.
"Good morning, Dr. Grey," she said a bit awkwardly, not quite able to
meet my eyes.
"Marie, given what we've been through together, I think you can now
call me Jean," I replied as I poured myself a cup of coffee.
Sitting down next to her, I picked up Logan's tag. The rectangle of
metal dangling from the chain read, "458 25 243 Wolverine".
"In the Army, something like this is officially called an
identification tag," I said. "But the soldiers who actually wear them
call it a dog tag."
"Why the difference?" asked Marie with a thoughtful frown.
"I'm not sure. The soldiers I've known have never talked about it.
Maybe it's just a tradition."
It's too early in the morning for philosophy. So I don't tell Marie
that maybe there's something there that soldiers can't quite explain
to the rest of us. Logan isn't the only dangerous man trying to find
the line between human and animal.
I put down the tag and took a sip of my coffee. The conversation
stalled and there was an awkward silence. I let the silence stretch.
Sometimes it's best if you just keep quiet and let someone else work
It took Marie about thirty seconds to find her voice.
"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly with
emotion. She still wasn't able to look directly at me.
"You're welcome. Look, Marie, there's no reason to be embarrassed.
What happened to one of us, happened to all of us. We were all
very... enthusiastic together. When you form that kind of gestalt,
it's difficult to even tell where one personality begins and the
She nodded, still uncertain, but trying to understand. I wasn't
worried about her ability to deal with this. She was young, but she
was also a strong, intelligent, and adaptable person.
"Where's Miss Munroe?" Marie asked.
"Ororo," I said the name a bit firmly, "is sleeping in. She said
something about being a bit sore."
Marie's eyes went wide and she steepled her fingers in front of her
mouth. Her blush was suddenly back. And this time it was bright red.
"Oh, my..." she said. But she finally shared my laughter when I was
unable to keep a straight face.
"I'm not sure what to say to -- to Ororo, when I see her," she
I took one of her gloved hands in mine, enjoying the smooth touch of
velvet. She curled her fingers around my hand, holding on very, very
I carefully took a lock of her hair in my other hand and leaned over
to gently kiss it.
Together, we would beat the problem of her untouchable skin. Last
night we took the first steps to at least one solution. Maybe it
wasn't the best solution, but now we had a place to start.
"Just say to Ororo what you said to me," I said softly. "Say 'thank
you'. That will be more than enough."
Marie nodded, her eyes closed and her fingers intertwined with mine.