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FIC: Untouchable Face - 6/? - R [L/R, L/J]

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  • victoria p.
    Since Susan has been waiting so [im]patiently ;), I figured I d post this before I toddled off to bed. It s only gone through one round of editing, so forgive
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 8, 2001
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      Since Susan has been waiting so [im]patiently ;), I figured I'd post
      this before I toddled off to bed. It's only gone through one round of
      editing, so forgive any typos, please.

      Oh, and whoever coined the phrase "peachy fucking keen" - thank you. It
      just rolls right off the tongue. Logan's and mine. <g>

      Disclaimers etc. in Part 1


      Untouchable Face
      Part 6



      I lay in bed and watched Jean get dressed. She was going for a run. She
      did it every morning, a leftover from her days with Scooter. They used
      to run together. I'm not a morning person. Well, I like a good wake-up
      fuck as much as the next guy, but usually I'm waking up when other
      people are having lunch. So I never went with her.

      "After breakfast, I have golf with Warren," she said.

      "Golf?" I muttered. When the hell had she taken up golf? What was I
      missing? And why the hell was Warren "I'm too rich for my own good"
      Worthington doing it with her?

      "You complained that I don't like sports, Logan. So I decided to learn
      to golf. Then we can watch it together on Sunday afternoons."

      "Golf ain't a sport, Red," I said. It was a gut reaction, and man, was
      it the wrong one.

      "Logan, just because it doesn't involve toothless Canadians bashing each
      other with sticks --" she began, her voice mostly teasing, but I could
      tell she was irritated. And she had a right to be. She was trying to do
      something I'd like. It wasn't her fault she picked a dumb thing like

      "Hey, now, don't mock the hockey, okay?" I growled, because hey, even if
      it was okay for her to be irritated, you do *not* diss hockey while I'm
      around. It's up there with sex and fighting as one of my favorite things
      to do. Not that I play anymore. A long time ago, Slim and I talked about
      getting a team together, but only him, me and the Popsicle were
      interested, so it never happened.

      Chuck had a season ticket package for the Rangers, and Marie and I used
      to go to games all the time. I took Jean once, but she didn't get into
      it, so I left the tickets for One-Eye. He rotated the kids he took, or
      he brought Ororo, who was cool with it, as long as he went with her to
      the occasional soccer match.

      Jean leaned over and kissed me, and said, "Then don't mock the golf."

      I smirked. "I don't know, darlin'. It's kinda hard, what with those
      wacky pants and silly hats those guys wear. And what's with the

      She tried not to smile, but she couldn't help it. Am I a charmer or

      "I'll see you later, Logan. Try not to scare the new students, okay?" I
      grunted and she left.

      Scaring the new students is another favorite pastime. Had to make sure
      they knew I was a badass and wasn't going to be taken in by any sad
      puppy dog looks or sob stories. And I certainly never took them into
      town for ice cream or movies. No sir, not the Wolverine.

      Unfortunately, it always managed to get around to the new kids that I
      *would* take them into town for ice cream or movies, especially if it
      annoyed Scooter. He and I get along okay now that he's with 'Ro and I'm
      with Jean, though I know he still thinks I fucked Marie over somehow. So
      I still take every opportunity to rag on him or get under his skin. It's
      just too damn much fun to stop.

      That's how I ended up at the local ice cream parlor with Marie and a
      bunch of teen-age girls.

      Later that morning, after Jeannie left for her golf lessons, I went out
      to the garage. Marie and I had actually been working on refurbishing
      this old bike I picked up on my last trip. It's a beauty -- a Triumph

      Marie was there, but there were all these teenyboppers with her. Now, it
      was a Saturday morning in June. There were no classes, but there they
      were and -- Jesus, God in heaven -- they were all dressed in bathing
      suits. I started to back away, but Marie had already sniffed me out.

      "Logan!" she called cheerfully. She turned to the girls. "Logan would be
      perfect to help us, don't y'all think?"

      They nodded with varying degrees of nervousness. Most of them were still
      pretty new.

      "What are you up to, Rogue?" I tried to remember to call her that in
      front of the students. Otherwise, they got confused.

      She gave me a grin that lived up to her name. "We're gonna wash all
      these cars. The girls want to go to Mexico for a week, but they don't
      have the money. Scott said he'd pay anything not to have to wash all the
      cars," there were about fifteen of them -- the boy's obsessed with cars,
      "so we're gonna do it for him. And then maybe put up a sign in town, see
      if we can't drum up some business."

      A car wash. Mutant babes in bikinis. It had potential. I didn't see why
      I was needed though, and I said so.

      She shrugged. "We just thought a big strong man like yourself would be
      useful setting up the hoses and carrying the buckets," she said, her
      accent appearing out of nowhere. She knows what that drawl does --
      did -- okay, still does to me.

      I folded. Oh, I protested a little more, but I was a goner as soon as I
      realized that I'd have control of the hose, and Marie was wearing the
      least amount of clothing I'd seen her in for a while. She was the only
      one not in a bathing suit, for obvious reasons, but she had on these
      pants made of material so thin you could almost see through it, and a
      little white t-shirt that left her belly button exposed.

      So I got the hose and filled the buckets and generally had more fun than
      I'd ever admit to. I may have even cracked a smile once or twice,
      especially when I hit Marie with the hose. And then I wasn't smiling. I
      could see the outline of her breasts under the t-shirt and I remembered
      what she tasted like, what she felt like under my hands and my tongue.

      I looked closer and I could see three black marks on her chest through
      the wet, almost transparent shirt. A tattoo of some sort. That was new.
      I didn't see it the night I put her to bed, but I was looking now. Oh,
      God, three claw marks. She'd had scars tattooed on her chest where I'd
      impaled her. I swallowed hard. I don't know why that was such a turn-on,
      but it was.

      I dropped the hose and turned away. She caught the change in my mood.

      Her hand was on my arm as I tried to get myself under control.
      Goddammit, I thought that getting what I'd always wanted would mean I
      wouldn't want anything else. I didn't realize that some things are
      beyond want. I needed Marie, needed to feel her and taste her, and that
      just couldn't happen.

      I was breathing deep when I turned to look at her and her eyes reflected
      the thoughts I was having. She bit her lip, and I thought, I want to do
      that. I *need* to do that. I dropped my head towards her, not caring
      that there were about ten teenage girls watching, or that I had a
      girlfriend, or that kissing her would land me in a coma on top of a
      whole heap of trouble.

      She stepped back, though. She knew. There was confusion on her face, and
      I felt like a bastard. Both for almost cheating on Jean, and for not
      being able to let Marie go. I knew she had moved on, but I just couldn't
      seem to remember that.

      She cleared her throat. "Hey," she said, her tone too bright, "when
      we're done, we're going to go into town for ice cream. Isn't that right,
      Logan?" She smiled, but her eyes were shadowed.

      "Yeah, kid. Ice cream," I replied, feeling the need to punish myself,
      and what could be worse than ten teenage girls and one unattainable
      woman eating ice cream?

      Well, I learned what was worse. Coming home from watching Marie eat ice
      cream -- and is there anything more erotic? Goddamn, the woman had every
      man in the place looking at her, and some of the women too -- and having
      your girlfriend give you the cold shoulder all day because you were out
      with your ex.

      It didn't seem to matter to Jean that Marie and I were friends and
      nothing more. Of course, if she'd been able to read my thoughts while I
      watched Marie eat ice cream, I'd understand why she was so angry.

      Finally, when we were getting ready for bed, I'd had enough of her
      ignoring me. "Lemme get this straight, Red. Me and Marie takin' the kids
      out for banana splits is a federal offense, but you goin' off with
      Worthington all day is supposed to be peachy fucking keen?"

      "That's different. Warren and I are old friends."

      "Yeah, and? Marie and I are, too," I said, annoyed.

      "Warren and I were never lovers."

      "Jesus Christ, Jean. Marie lives here now. She's a teacher. She needed
      help with the kids and I helped her!" I was moving past exasperated and
      into angry. "What the fuck is your problem? You keep tellin' me I need
      to get more involved with the kids outside of training. I do and you go

      She crawled along the bed, the expression on her face changing from
      anger to something else. She looked -- crafty. Yeah, that's the word.
      Like she was planning something that I probably wasn't going to like.

      "Let's get married, Logan. Just like Scott and 'Ro did. We can have
      Charles and Hank witness for us. We can do it on Tuesday."

      "Goddammit, Jean!" I was not ready for marriage. Really, really not
      ready. "I don't have a past. How can I plan for a future without my
      past? I --" God, she and I had never really discussed it. She'd never
      told me what she'd seen in my head the day we met, and I never asked. I
      didn't want her roaming around up there. A man's got to have some
      privacy, and I've done a lot of shit I'd prefer nobody know about.

      Except Marie, of course. She knows it all. But that's not her fault. One
      of the things I love about her is that she didn't run in the other
      direction whenever she saw me coming. Somehow, I didn't think Jean would
      be that supportive.

      Jean grabbed my hand and kissed it, and I sat down on the bed next to
      her. "I'm sorry, Jeannie, but I ain't ready to make that kind of
      commitment." She knelt behind me and rubbed my shoulders. "And anyway, I
      don't think we should get married just 'cause everyone else is doin' it.
      I mean, if Scott and Storm jumped off a bridge--"

      She laughed and pressed her head against my neck. "Okay, Logan. I
      understand. But I just, I think we have to take the next step, and do it
      soon, you know? We've been together a few years now, and if this isn't
      going anywhere, I'd rather know now, before another five years goes by.
      I'm coming up on forty soon, and I'd like to have children." She sighed
      and I pulled her into my lap. Kids. Jesus. I *really* wasn't ready for
      that. Though part of me really liked the idea. Kids with big brown eyes
      and soft brown hair and -- Whoa, Logan, you're not thinking of Marie
      right now. You have to stop that.

      I kissed her gently. "Okay, darlin'. Give me a few months to figure
      stuff out. Maybe make another trip up north, if Chuck can dig something
      up out of my head." I hadn't allowed him to do that yet, though it was
      probably the best way to get leads as to who had experimented on me. But
      maybe it was time. Jean was right. I might not be getting any older, but
      everyone else was.

      She curled up against me and sighed again. "Okay."

      And for the moment, I was safe. I'd bought myself some time to figure
      out if I really wanted to be married to Jean, or if I still had feelings
      for Marie. Let me rephrase that -- if Marie still had feelings for me. I
      knew I'd never stopped loving her. What Jean and I had was good, but I
      still wasn't sure it was love. I mean, I didn't get that tight feeling
      in my chest when Jean was sad, or that sort of dizzy feeling when she
      was happy, and I never felt like she and I had that connection Marie and
      I shared -- the one that made me feel at home.

      Admittedly, that connection hadn't been enough the first time around
      with Marie, but she'd been a nineteen-year-old virgin and I was her
      first real boyfriend. In some ways, I'd taken advantage of the fact that
      I was the only one not afraid to touch her. It was bound to fail.
      Neither of us had ever had a serious relationship before. What were the
      odds that we'd be successful with each other? Especially since I spent
      so much time lusting after Jean.

      And I'd moved on pretty quickly when Jean became available. But living
      day-to-day with Jean wasn't the same as the fantasies I'd had about her.
      She was a person, with feelings and thoughts and needs and wants, not
      just a doll I could fuck when the urge struck me. It had taken me a long
      time to get used to that, and I learned that reality is a hell of a lot
      different than fantasy, especially when that fantasy has the flu and you
      have to clean up after her when she misses the toilet.

      If it came down to a choice, and I had a feeling Jean wasn't far from
      forcing me to make one, could I choose her over Marie? And should I have
      to? I wasn't sure, and I wasn't looking forward to finding out. Because
      I know the answer to the first question is no. I did that once, and it
      was the worst decision I ever made. If I had only paid more attention to
      Marie, maybe she wouldn't have cheated on me with the Cajun. She
      wouldn't have had to look somewhere else for what I should have been
      giving her. She wouldn't have had to run away from home. And I wouldn't
      have to feel like a piece of me was missing for four long years.

      I lay there that night, amazed at how much had changed in just a single
      day. I looked at Jean, breathing evenly in the dim moonlight that flowed
      into the room, and I wondered how I was going to tell her it was over.

      I didn't fall asleep until the sun was almost up, and I managed to avoid
      her for most of the next day. She left for DC with Xavier that night,
      and I figured it was time to quit fooling around and make some




      "Sorry it took so long to get to this one. Got distracted by the
      necrophilia and marshmallows." - Vic's beta Jen on chapter 6 of
      Untouchable Face


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