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FIC: "Crazy For This Girl" (1/1 - rated R)

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  • Donna Bevan
    Title: Crazy For This Girl (1/1) Author: Donna Rating: R (language) Category: Logan/Rogue friendship/romance, Logan POV Summary: Logan, Rogue, and some
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 30, 2000
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      Title: Crazy For This Girl (1/1)
      Author: Donna
      Rating: R (language)
      Category: Logan/Rogue friendship/romance, Logan POV
      Summary: Logan, Rogue, and some Sunday drivin'. Pure foofy goodness.
      Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel. The song is "Crazy For This
      Girl," and it belongs to Evan & Jaron (no idea who that is - I just heard
      this on a pop station on my way home from the store).

      Dedication: For Die, because she deserves this. And for Nancy, who needs
      balance. ;) Here's foof! :)

      Author's Note: I love grilled chicken Caesar salads. Just an observation.
      It has nothing to do with this fic. :) Read on.


      Sometimes I have no idea how we got to this point. Other times, it's so
      clear that I feel like an idiot. We're here because I *know* her, and she
      knows me.

      Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking. "Brilliant deduction, Logan.
      You're spending time together because you know each other. What a novel
      concept, and ain't you a smart one?"

      Well, just shut your hole and let me finish. Otherwise, I might get testy.

      The thing about Marie and me is that there's no one else on this whole
      freaking planet who can make that claim about either one of us. Nobody
      knows us the way we know each other, and that's pretty damn indisputable.

      Let me see if I can actually put this into words without sounding stupid.

      This is what happened to me the moment I laid eyes on Marie: something
      about her made me want to take care of her, so I ran. She followed me, and
      so did that protective feeling. After a while, it didn't seem so bad, and
      so I promised her I'd keep her safe, sheltered. Then we had a run-in with
      the forces of darkness and all that shit, and I saved her life…Aw hell, you
      know that much of the story already. Anyway, then I left her with yet
      another promise - this time, I told her I'd be back.

      I thought it would be a hardship, having to keep that particular vow. But
      it turned out to be easy. So easy.

      I wandered for a few months, checking out the leads Professor Xavier
      managed to find for me, and finally hit a brick wall. Oh, I found out
      exactly jack shit about my past, but that's not what I'm talking about.

      I'm talking about…feeling lost.

      Drifting around the openness of the Canadian wilderness had always brought
      me satisfaction. It brought me…the closest thing to peace I can ever
      remember knowing. But that changed after I left that school. It was
      different, driving aimlessly from town to town. Before, it always felt
      like freedom, but after…

      It felt like wasted time.

      I was seeing Marie everywhere. Not *her*, really, but parts of her; I
      would see women with her hair (minus the white streaks, of course) or her
      figure or maybe her walk…I didn't see it until the day I left, you know,
      that easy little sway that rocks her hips when she moves. I saw it for a
      grand total of five minutes, and…Without even realizing it, I began to
      search. Every body, every face, and every voice…Everywhere I looked, I was
      searching for traces of Marie.

      A waitress in one diner had her smile and, more than once, she caught me
      gazing at her full lips. I flirted shamelessly with her, just to see that
      smile, over and over again. And one time I ran across a stranded motorist
      who had Marie's wide, slightly nervous eyes. I changed her flat tire and
      tried to stop myself from staring. Honestly, I think I creeped her out.

      But I didn't figure it out, believe it or not. Something in my head didn't
      click, and I had no idea I was looking for *Marie*. I didn't put two and
      two together and understand what it was about those women that fascinated
      me. What a moron.

      Finally, one night just outside of Calgary, I was lying on the ground,
      watching the stars, and it hit me, like bad Chinese food - I wanted to go
      back. I wanted to hightail it back to that school and see what kind of
      life I could make for myself, since it seemed that my solitary nomadic
      existence was no longer working for me.

      Still, nothing about Marie. No epiphanies about the girl I'd left behind,
      just a sudden awareness of the gnawing emptiness inside me. It needed to
      be filled, and I could think of only one place that might ease the loneliness.

      So I came back. I got the whole "prodigal son returns" welcome, too; hell,
      they did everything but kill the fatted calf. Xavier shook my hand,
      One-Eye patted me on the back, and Storm and Jean hugged me. Marie

      And it felt good, you know? Not fantastically great, or anything,
      but…good. Familiar. Nice.

      So we talked. And then we talked more, and it became sort of a routine.
      I'd hang around until she finished her classes and then she'd sit in my
      room and do her homework. I'd open the window and smoke a cigar, do a few
      pushups, and listen to the soft rhythm of her breathing. Every once in a
      while, she would ask me questions like, "What were the names of Czar
      Nicholas's kids? You know, the ones who were killed by the Bolsheviks…" or
      "Do you know anythin' about vectors, Logan?" I liked having her around,
      liked her smiles and her laughs. And it was comfortable.

      Until I began to notice that I'd started staring at her ass a lot more than
      I stared at Jeannie's.

      I looked inside myself and understood that I wanted her; maybe I always
      had, who knows? It wasn't surprising to me. She'd always been such a
      pretty little thing, but a lot of time had passed, and she'd grown into a
      beauty. And I am, after all, more animal than man a lot of the time. No,
      it wasn't a big shock to me, realizing that I wanted to touch her.

      What bothered me was remembering what Jeannie had said about Marie's crush
      on me. Because I recalled that, and I started wondering if maybe, just
      maybe, she wanted me back. And I wanted her to want me, even if I couldn't
      do a damn thing about it. I liked the thought of it, you know? The
      thought that someone as pure and real as Marie might see something good in me.

      Things weren't so comfortable after that. Wanting someone off-limits is
      one thing, but knowing that they may not be as untouchable as you'd
      thought…It puts all sorts of ideas in your head. I tried to lock them
      away, shove them far back in my head where I could maybe ignore them, but I
      started getting uneasy around her. Awkward. And it wasn't too long before
      Marie asked me if she'd done something wrong.

      I remember that it was a Sunday afternoon, and I remember the look on her
      face. She was terrified by the thought that she may have alienated me or,
      even worse, hurt me. And I couldn't let her think she was to blame for all
      the conflicting shit rolling around inside my head, so I smiled and tugged
      her hair and asked if she wanted to go for a drive.

      We highjacked a car from Xavier's fleet, a convertible, and the weather was
      already pretty warm, so I let the top down. The wind whipped her hair
      around her face in wild, shiny tendrils, and she took her gloves off and
      tried to tame it. When it looked like she might be succeeding, I drove
      faster, and she laughed, finally letting it fly free.

      We talked about things that didn't matter, like television commercials and
      people who left their Christmas decorations up all year long. And for a
      while, things were almost like before, when I didn't know that I wanted her
      to look at me with desire in her eyes and my name on her lips, wrapped in a
      pleasured moan.

      I showed up at her bedroom door the next Sunday, keys in hand. And, every
      week for months, we went driving.


      she rolls the window down
      and she talks over the sound
      of the cars that pass us by
      and I don't know why
      but she's changed my mind


      One day in late summer, she wore a skirt. The flowered fabric fluttered
      around her bare legs and feet, and she turned to me. Her smile twisted my
      stomach. "Are we goin' to our pond, Logan?" she asked excitedly, patting
      the picnic basket she'd brought. "We can have lunch there and everythin'."

      I arched an eyebrow, then nodded and smiled in return. It had gotten
      easier, the smiling. Something about seeing her so happy…It was always the
      tiny things that pleased her, too, like lunch by "our" pond or being able
      to forego jeans or tights without scaring the hell out of people. If I
      could give her those things, I would. Hell, if she asked me for the moon,
      I'd probably start making phone calls.

      She reached out to adjust the volume on the radio. It was one of those
      bubble-gum boy bands that she and her little friends like. At one time, I
      would have poked a claw rather viciously through the receiver before I
      listened to that crap. But she seemed to like the song; she was singing
      along, and rocking her head back and forth to the light, airy rhythm. The
      song still sucked, but I tuned it out and just enjoyed driving down the
      blacktop with Marie by my side.


      would you look at her
      she looks at me
      she's got me thinking about her constantly
      but she don't know how I feel
      and as she carries on without a doubt
      I wonder if she'll figure it out
      I'm crazy for this girl


      I've always liked being outdoors, but the night is my domain. Wolverines
      are nocturnal creatures, and I guess I live up to the name. But seeing the
      afternoon sun reflect off Marie's hair could have changed my mind in a
      heartbeat, made me trade night for day.

      She flopped down next to me in the grass, leaning on her side and one
      elbow, and sighed. "God, isn't it beautiful, Logan?"

      "Yes." She didn't need to know that I was talking about her and not the
      little bit of nature surrounding us. I picked at a blade of grass and
      concentrated on not reaching for her.

      In the last few months, even my fantasies of her had evolved. Gone were
      the half-formed images and sounds of panting breaths and hands clutching
      for purchase in a maelstrom of passion. When my self-control failed me,
      what I now saw behind closed lids was exactly what was before me - Marie,
      stretched out on a carpet of green, her hair spilling around us both, her
      eyes smiling up at me.

      I had my fantasy, and a smart man wouldn't fuck that up.

      "I brought you somethin'," she confessed, raising one silk-gloved hand to
      show me an odd flowery thing. It looked like a thin cotton puff on a green
      stalk. "It's dandelion," she explained at my blank look. "Blow on it,
      like this."

      She demonstrated, and the fluffy white disappeared from the stalk,
      scattering in the air in feathery dissonance, bounding off each other in
      currents of breeze. Her grin brightened her face, and she almost laughed.
      It was such a simple thing to be entertained by, and that's Marie. Not
      easily amused, but able to find joy in her surroundings.

      Suddenly, I wondered why the hell I didn't see it straight out of the gate.
      The protectiveness and affection, when I couldn't recall caring for anyone
      or anything but my own survival. The need to be around her constantly,
      even if it was only to hear her breathe or fidget in a chair. She changed
      me, changed the way I think.

      I didn't just *want* her - I *loved* her.

      She opened one of my hands and I looked dumbly down at our entwined
      fingers. She placed one of the dandelion stalks in my hand and whispered,
      "Try it. It's fun."

      The strange bloom was caught and crushed between smooth silk and rough skin
      as I grasped her hand, drawing it to my mouth.

      There was a moment of confusion in her eyes, and then they softened, and
      she smiled at me. It warmed me in ways the fading sunlight never could.
      My breathing was shaky as I gently eased her onto her back.

      "Logan?" My name was a question on her lips, and I didn't know if I could
      answer it. I didn't know what she wanted to hear.

      Finally, I resolved to tell her what I needed to say, do what I needed to
      do; if it was something she didn't want, she could run screaming. I'd deal
      with my broken heart later.

      "Marie…" My hands were careful in her hair as I stretched my body above
      hers. "I…I want to touch you."

      I expected a shy nod or a freaked-out gaping stare or…anything but what I
      got. She reached up and I felt silk on my face as she stroked my cheeks
      and lips. "Logan…I've been wonderin' if you were ever gonna get around to

      A growl rumbled up through my chest, and she grinned. "Are you sure, Marie?"

      "Logan…You have no idea how sure I am, sugar," she whispered, running her
      hands to the back of my neck and then up into my hair.

      Believe it or not, I was at a loss. I didn't know what to do. I looked
      down at her, feeling her fingers slip through my hair, and I could see
      myself reflected in her eyes. I looked shell-shocked. Finally, she
      laughed tenderly and disentangled one of her hands, reaching down to grasp
      mine. "Anything, Logan, just…Touch me. Please." She placed my hand on
      her chest, right above her heart.

      I could feel it thumping crazily. Her ribs were rising and falling rapidly
      in time with her breathing, and I became fully aware of her soft form under
      me. Closing my eyes, I bent to where my hand lay, replacing it with my
      cheek. "Marie…"

      "Talk to me, Logan."

      I looked up, and her eyes were shining. So I did, whispering about nothing
      in particular, just nonsense, and I pressed my lips to the scarf that
      covered her throat.

      She jumped and moaned, and I wondered why I'd gone so long without seeing
      that she needed this as much as I did. I opened my mouth, letting heat and
      wetness bleed through the sheer white fabric. She shivered, clutching my
      shoulders with her tiny hands. My tongue stroked the cloth over her skin,
      and she breathed my name.

      I looked up. Her head was tossed back into the grass, and she had
      dandelion bits clinging to the tangled strands. A flush had crept over her
      skin, staining it a becoming pink. Her lips had parted, and she was
      panting lightly.

      "God, you're beautiful, Marie," I mumbled, reaching down to clutch at her
      hip. It was soft and yielding under my hand as I smoothed her skirt across
      it. "I could look at you all the time…"

      She raised her head a bit, and sighed. "I wish…I wish you could kiss me,
      Logan." Her mouth trembled as she formed the words.

      Remember what I said about her asking for the moon? Well, a kiss was
      nothing compared to that. "I…could, Marie." I gazed at her seriously,
      waiting for her answer to my unspoken question.

      It took her a minute to respond, and she shook her head. "No, Logan. It
      would hurt you, and…When you hurt, I hurt."

      My heart clenched painfully in my chest. I knew that I felt that way about
      her, but…To hear her echo the words I hadn't said, to hear them fall from
      her lips like a benediction…It sent a shiver through me, straight to my
      core. I didn't know what I could give her, ever, that would mean half as
      much as what she'd just handed me. With trembling hands, I lifted the
      scarf to her face. "Hold still, Marie."

      It floated down to rest on her face. I could still see her through the
      nearly transparent material, her eyes exposed and blinking. She was
      nervous about it, about our first kiss. I leaned down slowly, braced on my
      elbows, and brushed my lips against her nose. "I love you," I breathed as
      I closed the distance between our mouths.

      She was trembling, hesitant, and I coaxed her softly, urging her to open
      for me. I needed to taste her, and until she agreed to touch me
      unprotected until I'd crawled inside her head forever, it was the only way.

      Finally, her lips parted and her tongue met mine through the cloth. It was
      the most erotic thing I'd *ever* experienced in my life, Marie's kiss. It
      was slow and moist and I wanted to make it deeper. So much deeper. The
      need to be inside her body rose up within me, growling with animal urgency.
      The need to mate, to claim…To make sure she knew she was mine, and mine

      But what I couldn't do with my body, I would do with words. And, when the
      time was right, I would find a way to make her feel all the things that
      simple kiss did to me. "I love you, Marie," I whispered again, shaking
      with the force of the sensation throbbing in my body and heart. "God, baby…"

      The scarf disappeared from her face, and tears were streaming out of her
      eyes, down her face and into the hair at her temples. Fear spiked in me,
      and I swallowed convulsively. Had I hurt her somehow? Had I done
      something wrong?

      Then she breathed, and it became a sob. "I love you, too," she told me,
      her voice breaking. "I'm sorry…"

      "Sorry?" She was *sorry*? Shit. My eyes snapped shut. She was about to
      destroy me. She had me in the palm of her delicate little hand, and she
      was about to crush me. "You're *sorry*?"

      Her sobs increased in both frequency and volume, and she clutched my face
      in her hands. "I should…be strong, Logan. I…should let you go."

      Shit, shit, shit. Fuck. "Marie--"

      "There's so much I…want to give you, but…I can't, Logan," she wailed.
      "It's not fair! It's not…fair for you."

      Holy hell, she was worried about *me*? About being enough for me? "Jesus,
      Marie…" My voice lowered to a near growl. "Listen to me, darlin'. I'd be
      happy sitting in a room, listening to you read the phone book, all right?
      Just as long as you were *there*."

      "But…sex is…"

      "Not everything, baby. It can be so cheap…You can't imagine." I closed my
      eyes, willing her to *see*. "What you are to me is more than that. It's
      so much more, Marie. Please don't do this. Don't turn me away because of

      Her sobs subsided into soft hiccups. "But will it be enough, Logan?" she
      asked, and her eyes were sad and old, so much older than they should have

      "It'll be everything, Marie. Forever." I dragged her hand to my face and
      pressed a fevered kiss to her palm. Her red-rimmed eyes widened at the
      word, and I repeated it vehemently. "Forever, Marie."

      She smiled shakily, and the fear inside my stomach eased. It would be
      fine, because all I needed was to have her near me. If she believed that,
      if she trusted me enough to know how much I cherished her…

      It would be forever.


      right now, face to face
      all my fears pushed aside
      and right now
      I'm ready to spend the rest of my life
      with you


      The End


      "It's easy to moon over a lost love - to fantasize over what might have
      been, secure in the knowledge that it'll never happen. It makes a great
      excuse for not facin' the risks and demands of reality."
      --Logan, "The Uncanny X-Men" (#183)

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