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FIC: Choices, 18/?, R/NC17, W/R R/G W/f

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  • fyrdrakken@JUNO.COM
    DISCLAIMERS REPOSTED IN PART 0 * * * It was a slow and subtle process. A gradual accumulation of clothes, toiletries and personal items, accrued over repeated
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 26, 2001
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      DISCLAIMERS REPOSTED IN PART 0

      * * *

      It was a slow and subtle process. A gradual accumulation of clothes,
      toiletries and personal items, accrued over repeated visits.

      Maybe it was roughly akin to the manner in which a couple may go from
      merely visiting one another’s homes, to gradually leaving more and more
      belongings at the other’s place — until finally the decision is made to
      just move in together.

      Logan wouldn’t know. His only real experience of couplehood had been the
      sudden jump he and Ciss had taken from fucking each other periodically to
      married cohabitation. Before finding himself shackled to the wench, he
      had neither allowed her to leave her paraphernalia in his room, nor left
      anything of his own in hers.

      But the thought must have occurred to him — even if only in the nonverbal
      subconscious recesses of his mind — as soon as Cicely told him to sleep
      somewhere else (if not even before then). Because when he selected an
      unoccupied bedroom to crash in for the night, not only did he make a
      point of raiding a linen closet for sheets and blankets (a strange effort
      to make when merely selecting a resting place at three AM, especially for
      a man so used to sleeping rough), but he selected the most cramped,
      isolated, and undesirable room he could. Not the really nice
      accommodations allotted to the adults who chose to remain with the X-Men,
      or even one of the comfortable (albeit usually shared) rooms typical for
      the students. This was a little cubbyhole of a room inconveniently
      crowded into an oddly-shaped architectural null-space, and far from the
      more populated parts of the household. Servants’ quarters, somewhere to
      hide the crazy aunt — that kind of place.

      It was therefore highly unlikely to be assigned to anyone, whether adult
      or new student.

      Which meant that Logan could quietly take possession of this space
      without finding himself abruptly faced with a newly-assigned legitimate
      occupant.

      Which meant that public attention would not be drawn to the fact that
      Logan had been setting up sleeping quarters for himself that were
      separate from those of his wife.

      Cicely of course noticed — at least that her husband’s time sharing her
      bed was rarer and rarer. And she could have thrown a fit — had there been
      another woman (or even a succession of them) to direct her ire at. But
      Logan only occasionally went on any bedroom safaris now — though
      admittedly it made his life easier *not* having to get past his wife when
      he did. More often he merely retired to his little bedroom at a decent
      hour of the night, and was able to get enough sleep to often be up bright
      and early fussing with Max before Cissy awoke. (Staying awake hoping her
      husband would return from his late night "TV watching" or whatever the
      hell he was doing had been nudging Cissy’s sleep time back a bit.) And
      Cicely had just enough of a sense of perspective to feel that complaining
      abut Logan not sleeping next to her was a bit — juvenile? Petty?
      Ridiculous?

      She had no idea about his separate quarters. If anything, she believed
      him to be sacking out on the rec room couch, falling asleep in front of
      the TV. She only knew that Logan left their quarters after Max was in bed
      (as had become his habit months ago), claiming to be heading down to
      watch TV or do engine work or some other damned thing, and was back home
      by the time she awoke alone in a bed that showed no signs of having
      hosted his presence at any point in the night. There wasn’t really
      anything she could pin down as a complaint worth fighting about. Aside
      from the lack of sex, that was, but she had been letting Logan know her
      feelings on the matter for months with no result but increasingly more
      vicious fights.

      Had she known that Logan had, in effect, set himself up with what
      amounted to a little bachelor pad right under the same roof as their own
      family quarters, she would have had a new complaint well worth fighting
      about.

      * * *

      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

      "Associated with the unconquerable power of the sun, the Roman Mithraic
      feast of Sol Invictus gave the traditional birth date of Christ, 25
      December."
      -- "Mithra," _Encyclopedia of World Mythology, Arthur Cotterell ed.
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