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FIC: Choices, 6/?, R/NC17, W/R R/G W/f

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  • fyrdrakken@JUNO.COM
    DISCLAIMERS POSTED IN PART 0 * * * The honeymoon actually wasn’t too bad. Niagara Falls, conventional enough but really just an
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 12 11:42 PM
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      DISCLAIMERS POSTED IN PART 0

      * * *

      The honeymoon actually wasn’t too bad. Niagara Falls, conventional enough
      but really just an excuse to get away from the X-Mansion for a couple of
      weeks of intensive sex. Not a lot of talking required, though Cissy did
      quite a bit of that anyway. Logan just lay and let it all wash in one ear
      and out the other, trying not to think about how much more attractive he
      would have found Cissy’s throaty velvet murmur had it come with a
      Southern accent.

      The honeymoon ended in more ways than one when they got back home. Going
      away on vacation together was one thing — moving in together was quite
      another. Merging disparate decorating styles was bad enough. Trying to
      work out an equitable division of closet and bathroom space was worse,
      though Logan mostly just let Ciss have the lioness’ share. (After all,
      she had more clothes and bathroom junk both.) A more basic
      incompatibility occurred between Logan’s military neatness and Cissy’s
      tendency to mark her own territory with randomly scattered personal
      items.

      Then of course there was the talking issue. It wasn’t just that in
      sharing living space Logan now had to hear so much more of Ciss — it was
      that *now* she was finally deciding it was time to get his input on
      certain matters. Which meant that instead of being able to let the
      chatter wash over him like before, he was now periodically jolted into
      awareness by a, "What do you think?" or worse yet, "Are you listening to
      me, Logan?" or even, "Answer me!"

      The wedding crap now being over and done with, a lot of her questions had
      to do with baby stuff — again, something he was more than willing to
      leave up to the lady in question — though he was gradually beginning to
      be sneakingly interested in the matter. But sometimes she wanted to hear
      about his *feelings*, or generalized relationship shit, and he just
      wasn’t really on board for that kind of talk.

      Besides, why the hell did she have to get so damn *talkative* at the end
      of a long day? He just wanted to plop down in front of the TV with a
      sixpack and unwind, and here she was asking him some damn thing about
      wallpaper for the baby’s room or what have you.

      And then there was the sex. The one part of their relationship that he’d
      had no complaints with, aside from the private wish that she were
      smaller, dark-eyed and white-streaked brunette. But with the new hormonal
      cocktail swirling around in her bloodstream, coupled with a certain
      baseline tiredness caused by the new demands on her system, she really
      wasn’t in the mood as much often anymore. And having been removed from
      missions and discontinued her physical combat practice until after the
      birth, she was no longer getting a periodic adrenaline jumpstart to the
      libido.

      Which kind of offended Logan. Wasn’t that supposed to be the one major
      compensation of marriage — that at least he could count on getting sex
      regularly? Okay, he could see that maybe she wouldn’t be interested
      *every* night, especially what with the baby and all — but after a full
      week of, "Not tonight, Logan," "Not *now*, Logan!" and, "Can’t you just
      give it a *rest*?" he metaphorically threw up his hands in exasperation
      and took a little trip into the city to find someone who *was* in an
      affectionate mood.

      If and when challenged, he had a lot of justifications ready. That
      nowhere in that "To have and to hold, cleaving only to each other," crap
      had there been anything *specifically* forbidding one-night stands. That
      it would be pretty fucking unfair of Cissy to say that no one else could
      have him for a few hours when *she* hadn’t wanted him for an entire week.
      That it wasn’t like he was planning to run off for good and leave her and
      their kid starving in the streets or whatever — he just needed to go out
      and have a little fun sometimes.

      All of which was rationalizing bullshit, and he damn well knew it. The
      truth was that he was acting like some cranky teenager, just barely going
      through the motions of something unpleasant he felt he’d been forced
      into. You were supposed to marry a girl after you got her pregnant, and
      he had. You were supposed to take care of your wife and kid(s), and he
      would. But he’d be damned if he was going to bend over *that* far
      backwards to meet Cicely’s demands.

      Yes, he knew that fidelity was generally considered to be part of the
      deal in marriage. But he was cranky and unhappy and he knew how to play
      the part of the unregenerate Neandertal if he chose.

      So he was expecting to walk into a storm of disapproval when he got back
      home. He was surly and unrepentant, and more inclined to defend himself
      than to beg forgiveness.

      He wasn’t expecting quite the fight he walked into.

      * * *

      FyrDrakken
      She Whose Quotations Are Both Exotic and Appropriate
      Keeper of his Deadly Startle Reflexes, Guardian and Examiner of the
      Adamantium-Revealing X-Rays, and Official Listener for the Occasional
      Aussie Vowels

      "When did things start going so bad? I've been talking to dead rabbits
      and feeding bloody walls. I've done horrifying things with salad tongs.
      It's really eaten into my social life."
      -- Johnny C, JOHNNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC #6, by Jhonen Vasquez
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