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FIC: Logan Returns (6/?) [L/R]

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  • Sare Liz
    see part one for notes and disclaimers ...this part rated R for language * I never really was privy to her schedule back before. I mean, there wasn t much
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 31 7:08 PM
      see part one for notes and disclaimers

      ...this part rated R for language


      I never really was privy to her schedule back before. I mean, there
      wasn't much time for that sort of thing, what with the shit
      the fan the night after I woke up the first time. After everything
      blew over, after I woke up the second time, I was gone the day
      after. No, I'm not really a stay for tea type of guy, and I
      really think I am now, but something has changed.

      First of all, Marie needs me. It's really hard to keep scowling
      Scott like I know I really want to and still think that thought.
      officially her caretaker and it's my new mission in life to make
      happy. And no, that thought doesn't phase me at all. Since
      no where near by I think it's safe to admit why, as if it
      obvious enough every time I look at her.

      I *do* love that child. Child, hell. Woman. I'm in love with a
      woman, and her name is Marie. I don't even have the heart to
      Scott about Jean, which of course shocked the shit out of him. A
      part of my manly pride wanted to know how Jean took it, but the rest
      of me couldn't be bothered to pay attention long enough to find

      Of course, that would be the other thing that has changed. Before,
      it was just fantasies about a little piece of jail-bait. Granted,
      remarkably intricate fantasies, but I wasn't here and she
      there and before Xavier's SOS I had no idea if she even
      me. And now, here I am, jail-bait she's not, and I give it six
      tops before we find out if those fantasies of mine were creative

      The scary thing is, I couldn't be happier. I still manage to
      at Scott though. But I gotta say in his defense, he makes it easier
      when he opens his mouth and dumb-ass comments come out. Like this
      morning at breakfast. I take a moment to glibly congratulate him on
      his ability to hoodwink a psychic long enough to get her to say
      do', and what does he do? Say something stupid about my ability
      stay in one place long enough to spell commitment, and right in front
      of Marie. I was almost ready to do just that, right there at the
      oversized kitchen table and make one hell of a scene cause maybe I
      wouldn't just spell it out, maybe I'd carve it into his
      when my little firecracker did it for me.

      Looking up from her omelet she gave him one hell of an impressive
      stare, at the same time putting her hand on my thigh. I figure she
      did it to calm me down, make sure I didn't start a war, but that
      thought was before she opened her mouth.

      "C. O. M-M. I. T. M... E… N," then she paused,
      staring. I was trying my best not to laugh at the look on
      face. After what seemed to be a full minute but probably wasn't,
      said the last letter.

      "Still here," I chimed in.

      Scott look at us, back and forth a couple of times, like we were
      freaks of nature for our little display of whatever it was. He
      finally shoved back from his empty plate and walked away.

      A little while after all attention in the room faded away from the
      two of us, Marie groaned and I looked over to see her forehead
      resting on my shoulder. I cocked an eyebrow and craned my head down
      so I could see her a little better.

      "What's eating you, babe?" Obviously, Scott, but I
      needed to know
      for sure before I went on a murderous rampage. By the time she
      responded I was already thinking of new ways to kill the shit and
      make it look like an accident.

      "Now I'm gonna have to go apologize to Scott. This

      "What?" Hell, why would she want to do that?

      She sighed and straightened up, but inched closer to me, both hands
      back on my thigh. I leaned back so I could put an arm around her and
      draw her as close as I could considering that we were still at the
      kitchen table and were probably gathering stares again.

      "Contrary to the majority vote," she drawled quietly, "I
      think Scott
      is a nice guy and generally avoid trying to put him into
      uncomfortable situations."

      "Where's the fun in that?" I turned around to look at
      the snicker
      behind me. Well, look, glare, same thing. One of Marie's
      turned beet red and stammered out an apology, but Marie had my
      attention quick enough. And it had nothing to do with all ten of her
      fingers pressing down on my leg, the last few damn close to my hip.
      No, nothing at all.

      She sighed my name in frustration. When she stood up I nearly
      whined. Apparently I looked the part of the neglected puppy, cause
      she put her hand against the side of my face and smiled at me. Told
      me she'd catch up with me at the Professor's office in a
      little bit,
      and off she went in a soft rustle of denim and satin, leaving me to
      think about how much she's affected me in such a little time.

      I was staring into the dregs of my coffee, already beginning to feel
      the effects of the caffeine wearing off when that damn grating voice
      sounded again. I'd managed to ignore it before, I didn't
      know how
      well that was going to work now.

      "Rogue – she seem pretty taken w' you, *Wolverine*,"
      he said,
      emphasizing that name like it carried disease.

      "Remy, stop it." That was the girl next to me, the one in
      who'd blushed earlier. She wasn't blushing now.

      "Butt out, Jubilee, this ain't none of your business."

      "No, Remy, you're wrong." There was fire in this
      child's eyes, so I
      just sat back with my arms crossed and watched the display. She
      continued on without pausing to let him speak. "All of us –
      of us here – loves Rogue, but apparently some of us care more
      her happiness than others. I mean, God, Gambit! Did you even pay
      attention here or were you too busy being pissed off that it was him
      not you? Look at her plate." When the twit stared defiantly at
      she repeated the order, yelling it.

      "Look at it, dammit!" I glanced over to it myself. There
      wasn't a
      damn thing on it. What was the point?

      "Do you remember the last time she ate that much during an entire
      day, much less at one sitting? Cause I do."

      Whoa, whoa… She wasn't eating? I guess I never really
      thought of
      all the ramifications of that last transfer. I mean, flying,
      a given, but…

      "…And my God, Remy, she *laughed*," the girl called Jubilee
      said, and
      had my attention again. "Rogue has been the North American
      Posterchild for Anhedonia for the last two months and you don't
      it's a remarkable thing when she *laughs*? Can't you be
      happy that
      she's finally taking an interest in something – someone –
      even if
      it's not you? Or are you so selfish that if you can't make
      happy, she should be miserable forever?"

      "It's not like that," the put-in-his-place shit ground
      out quietly.

      "Then how *is* it?"

      "He don't deserve her. We been here, standing by her all
      everything, and where he been?"

      "You mean other than in her head the entire time?"

      "I *mean* he left her. Au revior, ma chere. And now he back,
      and no
      one know why, or for how long. But dat don't matter, cause all
      got to do is growl and everybody is all `Wolverine dis,' and
      `Wolverine dat.'"

      I was thinking about growling, just for the hell of it, see what
      would happen, but the girl moved and the moment was gone…

      Jubilee got up from her chair and leaned over the table, hands flat
      on the surface of the wood. "You know what? This is stupid. I
      don't even care. I'm her friend, but it's her life. If
      it makes her
      happy to be all googly-eyed with the meanest motherfucker on our
      side, I say put another steak on the grill and offer him a beer."

      She stared at him for a while before leaving, maybe waiting for a
      response. She didn't get one.

      Meanest motherfucker? I never claimed to be Mr. Congeniality, but I
      never really thought of myself as the worst either.

      I gotta say, I think like it.


      In a pretty little place in my head I sit in a comfy chair and read
      feed back all day long. Except that there isn't any right now, and
      that pretty little place isn't so pretty anymore, so won't you tell
      me what you're thinking?
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