FIC: Choices, 17/?, R/NC17, W/R R/G W/f
- DISCLAIMERS REPOSTED IN PART 0
* * *
It was the late night talk shows that did it. Logan was sitting through
Craig Kilborns show only because he found him marginally less annoying
than Conan OBrien. Either host, however, was preferable to heading
upstairs to his wife.
It was late but not yet late enough. Delaying his retreat to the
bedroom for as long as possible after Max was down for the night
increased the chances that Cissy would be asleep by the time her husband
put in his appearance ideally, deeply enough not to wake as he slipped
between the covers. And in the worst-case scenario Logan in bed with an
awake, amorous, annoyed wife well, he was cutting into his sleep time
enough to justifiably claim to be too tired to accommodate her.
But restlessness at his mostly-housebound life was rising as was sexual
frustration. What he *really* wanted to do was to start going out again
drinking and fighting and *especially* fucking when the mood hit him. (Or
at least after Max was down for the night, and coming home well before
dawn, too he still liked being awakened by seemingly the only person
within the X-Mansion who thought his dad was a great guy.)
And *this* was the night that he finally gave in to temptation and did
But if he had thought Cicely had reacted badly to his tomcatting around
while she was pregnant, then it had been a reflection of blissful
ignorance. Cissys reaction to having her husband out finding new beds to
share when her own was impatiently waiting for him was catastrophic.
Thermonuclear. Apocalyptic. She woke the entire floor, *plus* the
neighbors above and below their quarters.
The squall from the other bedroom was what silenced her, once she paused
for breath and was finally able to hear it. Max was perhaps a bit young
to follow the conversation as his mother called his father a whorehopping
dogfucking bastard, but he wasnt thrilled to be awakened listening to
Mommy yelling. The flow in invective ceased as Cissy rushed to the next
room to soothe her precious.
Logan painfully picked himself up off the floor, as Cicely returned from
the next room. "See what youve done? Youve upset your *son*. *He*
doesnt want his daddy to go running off and leave him and his mommy all
Logan could have pointed out that *Cissy* had been the noisy one waking
up the household but he maintained his silence. The mention of him
abandoning Cissy and Max even though a bit of overwrought hyperbole on
Cissys part had coldly reminded him of just what he had to lose.
It wasnt merely a question of whether he would leave Ciss or stay with
her. *She* could also leave *him*.
While Cicely returned to the babys room, setting Max back into his bed
for hopefully the remainder of the night, Logan collapsed into a chair
and rested his head in his hands, wondering how the hell hed gotten
himself into this situation.
Hearing her returning from the next room, he began to kick off his boots,
figuring that it was definitely time to hit the sack. Time to lie with
their backs to one another pretending not to be aware of each other for
the rest of the night...
His wife stopped him. "Maybe youd better sleep somewhere else tonight,"
she said icily.
He nodded, shoved his foot back into his boot, stood, and walked out
without pausing to comment or argue.
["Sleep somewhere else." Of *course*...]
* * *
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
"Associated with the unconquerable power of the sun, the Roman Mithraic
feast of Sol Invictus gave the traditional birth date of Christ, 25
-- "Mithra," _Encyclopedia of World Mythology, Arthur Cotterell ed.
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