Short Ro/Lo movieverse ficcie. Can Logan grapple with his emotions and a p.o'd Ororo at the same time?

************

"Dammit!"

Logan chuckled, not really minding that the floating swear word spoiled his shot. A few of the kids in the rec room looked at him strangely when he kept chuckling and returned his pool cue to the wall, but only because they didn't have his sensitive hearing. They also didn't catch the faint whiff of pure, frustrated rage piggybacking on the curse. Smirking, he left the uproar of sugar-high kids and sauntered down the hallway with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

Moving from the corridors to the rooms was something out of an Alice in Wonderland tale: Small openings suddenly became expansive grand ballrooms filled with light, bookshelves, paintings, and desks. The thick scents of pencils and ink and chalk dust almost made him sneeze and the smell of worn leather, musty maps, and sandalwood tickled his nose as he crept closer. Because it was Saturday, the only light in the corridor was the small red fury of an exit sign across from Ro's room. It played up his animal instincts, making him feel like a lion on the hunt, and he grinned slightly. Never could get that far from his feral side, but he sort of liked it that way.

Xavier's school either puts different fears to rest or creates new ones, he thought, smile fading. He was more comfortable with this place and it forced him to trust again. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Had he even earned the right to stick around? Xavier said he could teach some classes if it helped him relax in his new environment, but the whole teaching thing rubbed him raw. A bunch of noisy brats? With his temper--? Yeah. Right. But...no sane man liked being on the road all the time. Logan didn't care who the drifter was. Everyone needed a place to call home sometime in life. Still, the whole concept of having a home after being alone, so alone, for so very long, scared him shitless.

"Bastard!"

He started smiling again. It had to be something real good if Ororo had started using expletives. He'd been moping around the academy for months before he discovered just how easily he could talk to Ororo about his crap. She listened patiently and didn't give an opinion unless he asked for it. He liked that about her, and she was probably the only person he could talk to like that. He didn't think he knew her long enough to say it, but sometimes she was the cornerstone in the hell of his mind, and she was the one thing able to calm him down when he felt undeserving of Xavier's grace. Not even Jean had that power. 'Ro let him feel like it was okay to be him, and she wasn't afraid of what he did...or what he could do.

And now, he smirked, the unflappable, smooth-as-ice goddess is upset. Hell, that's a treat worth seein' in person.

He resisted laughing out loud and paused on the balls of his feet in the dark, hearing her long duster brush against her thighs as she paced her room. The leather one, his mind told him when he sniffed again. Absently he wondered what she was wearing underneath it, but he shook the idea off. He poked his head 'round her door, noting with a mischievous grin that the veins in her dark brown hands were throbbing as she gripped her desk. His grin widened. Oh, yeah. Kilimanjaro's gonna erupt any minute.

"Somethin' wrong, darlin'?" He patiently lit a stogie, watching her hands alternate between gripping the desk and releasing them, like she was about to grab a football. Or somebody's head. He would've laughed if the look on her face wasn't set on "kill."

"If you don't extinguish that foul, noxious thing in the next few seconds, Logan, you will discover firsthand how a lightning rod feels during a thunderstorm."

He chuckled, flexed his fists, and blew a cloud into the hallway. "You do that, an' you can start thinkin' the same way about shish kabob."

She narrowed her eyes, but he saw a small twinkle there. "That's better," he said, and leaned against her doorframe. "Now c'mon, tell me what's wrong."

Her jaw jutted dangerously. She turned from him with her arms folded, pacing again before her room's huge bay windows.  The sunlight danced through her platinum hair and played with the dust particles, and suddenly he saw her gorgeous hair fitted with a halo. But that wasn't right, was it? She pretended, but she wasn't any more an angel than he was. Her temper was just about as bad as his on some days.

He sniffed delicately and raised his eyebrow. She was close to crying. He never did know how to deal with crying women, 'Ro especially. He'd never seen her cry.

"I'd like to think we're friends by now, Ororo," he started tentatively, almost nervously. He extinguished the cigar, stepped into the room, and stood a few feet behind her, waiting until the smell of salt stopped overpowering the sandalwood. "I figure, if you got a problem, you can talk to me about it. I don't bite. Much."

Ororo hugged her shoulders as tightly as she'd gripped her desk moments earlier. "It isn't your concern, Logan," she spat. Then, softer: "It isn't anyone's concern but my own. Please leave it be."

He almost growled at her. "Don't pull that goddess crap on me, 'Ro. You taught me how to fit in around here, so take some advice back--you ain't alone, an' ya don't have to be." A low rumble of thunder echoed in the classroom, but he didn't care if he overstepped the line or not. She was his friend, and she deserved the truth. "If not me, then someone else. If yer hurtin', you should tell somebody. Maybe Jeannie or Cyke or--"

"No," she said quickly. She whipped around and surprised him by digging her nails into his forearm. Her brown eyes darted back and forth into his own, pleading with him; scaring him. His concerned eyes pierced hers until her hand and gaze finally dropped. "Not them."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because they think I should be over this already!" Her loud shout echoed across the musty books and disappeared into the walls. She shouted, hoping that releasing her anger into the room would change how she felt. Instead, he smelled rage charge in her gut. A small crack of thunder rattled the windows.

"They're happy, Logan," she hissed darkly. "Insanely happy."

Hail started pounding the roof. He wasn't sure how to take her words and shifted his feet, lowered his voice. "Why don't'cha tell me what the deal is, 'Ro, 'cause I sure ain't gettin' it. Sure, I can leave you alone, but I don't think it'll do either of us any good. Is that what you want?"

Her voice was too low for most ears, but not his. He wondered if she did this on purpose, in order to hide from everybody. He wondered if he was the only person who picked it up. Maybe that's why she found it easier to talk to him than the others, sometimes. She could express how she felt without having to say anything, and he understood.

"I do want to talk about it. About...him."

Logan almost rolled his eyes. "This is another one of them 'men are jackasses' stories, ain't it? Great. I'm treadin' on Jean's 'Dear Abby' territory."

Ororo actually chuckled, which made him feel a little better. Less worried, anyway.

"Really, Logan, it's nothing, and I am overreacting. You just caught me at a bad time."

"Bad time nothin'," he muttered. She was an expert with the dodge and deflect methods, but not around him. She was hiding, and she didn't need to--she was better than that. Some jerkoff shouldn't dictate her feelings.

He rubbed his knuckles dangerously. "Any asshole who can make you cry needs a li'l adamantium in his diet."

She smiled and touched his hand; he was surprised at the softness of her fingers and the coolness of her touch. It calmed him a little.

"Thank you for your protectiveness," she said softly. "But I've survived this long without an older brother. I can survive a few more heartbreaks."

"You, maybe. But the guy won't. Not while I'm around."

She looked at him then, a little strangely perhaps, and she started emitting a confusing mess of scents. He couldn't quite put his finger on all of them.

Ororo sighed. "Do you really want to hear this story?"

"If you insist on clammin' up until you explode, then yeah." He folded his arms defensively. "I can take a few bitch sessions."

Her grip on his hand got stronger. "It's a difficult story for me to tell."

"I ain't goin' anywhere."

He felt a little disappointed when she moved her hand and motioned to a small loveseat in corner. "Sit," she commanded. He did, but only because she wasn't grandstanding. He wouldn't have put up with anyone else ordering him around like that. She sat next to him and he instinctively slung his arm around the back of the couch, cupping her body. She moved in closer and rested her head on his shoulder; he didn't mind.

"Before you came here," she sighed softly, "We had another teacher. A man named Forge."

Logan sneered a little. "Forge? His name was 'Forge'?"

"His codename, his choice," she said. Her mouth quirked slightly. "Is it any worse than Wolverine? Or Storm?"

"Good point," he muttered. He sighed, absently playing with her hair. "So what was up with this guy? What'd he do that got yer panties in a wad?"

"More like what he didn't do," she said dreamily. She sighed into his chest, and Logan shook off an erotic thought. Where the hell did that come from? He shifted slightly and forced his mind to hear what she was saying.

"Forge taught mechanics, engineering, and industrial arts."

"He was the shop teacher?"

She smiled a little. "He would have corrected you for that. He was a very precise man and he taught me how to be more precise. Taught me how to keep hold of my respect and to enjoy the finer things."

How to be a better goddess, you mean, Logan thought angrily, but he stopped the words on his tongue. "Keep going."

"Well, we became rather close, for a time. The students began placing bets. Who would make it to the altar first: Jean Grey, or Ororo Munroe?"

"Sounded pretty damn serious." As she nodded, the faint scent of vanilla from her hair suddenly mixed with the sandalwood. He smiled faintly. "So?"

Her voice barely made it to his ears. "We would have won the student pool, Logan. Forge and I, I mean."

"But something happened."

As she sat back up, he reluctantly slipped his fingers from her hair. Her body stiffened and he recognized the only smell he really didn't like off her: Bitterness.

"Yes. Something happened."

He let her remain quiet a while, but felt he had to break the silence when her bitter scents hovered between hate and self-pity. He touched Ororo's shoulder gently, and guided her back into his chest. She let him.

"It still hurts, Logan."

"Wouldn't be love if it didn't, darlin'," he grumbled. "Sometimes it takes us a while to get over our own hang-ups to see the other side of the fence."

"Heavens, Logan, is that optimism? What happened to that angry pessimist we've all come to love?"

"Shut up," he muttered. "And you're evading the issue."

She shrugged and he closed his eyes, letting the vanilla filled his senses. He panicked a little when he realized another part of his body liked it, too. Damn. He really needed to take care of that. Maybe he'd rent a movie tonight or grab a girlie mag.

"I suppose I am, Logan, but it's really quite simple. Forge proposed and wanted me to leave my job, my students...my life. When I said I wanted him but I didn't want to sacrifice my life, he said I didn't love him enough. So he left." She fell silent again, but he was more patient, now. While he waited until she had the energy to finish her sentence, he dealt with his own growing anger. If he caught this Forge guy in a back alley, he'd be meat.

"If we had married, today would have been our third anniversary."

"Which brings us to your 'dammit.'"

She laughed lightly, and it made him smile again. "Which brings us to my 'dammit,' yes. Pitiful, isn't it?"

"Not really. It's okay to grieve a breakup. It's kinda like a death, anyway."

"But I'm tired of grieving, Logan." She sighed heavily. "Really tired of it. I want to move past this already."

"You will, when the time's right. Give it time, darlin'."

"Time. Precious, fleeting time. I loathe it."

Her hand brushed his thigh and he got anxious again, but thankfully she didn't notice. He began playing with her hair again, and she closed her eyes and rested her head in his lap. He braced for the worst, but the strangest thing happened. She didn't jump up in horror. Her face didn't twist in disgust. She didn't laugh. No. What she did shocked him out of his skin: Her full lips neatly parted into a small, secretive smile.

Damn, he thought. If I didn't know her better, I'd say...naw. Get it together, Logan. She's thinkin' about her ex, and you fit the bill. Face it. You two--

His mind stopped, and he looked at her again. Really looked at her. And it suddenly hit him as hard as a tire iron across his forehead. 

God, not her! Not Ororo!

Why not? His mind chanted back. It was laughing at him. She's good-looking, she smells good...

She ain't a damn steak!

Yer senses knew it a long time ago. Might as well face the music, Canucklehead. Yer fallin' for her, big time.

No, I can't be...She's just a really good friend. I--

"Anyway," Ororo said suddenly, breaking his thoughts. She sighed and rose from his lap while he grappled with his feelings. She obviously didn't see the turmoil on his face, and he was really glad for it. Glad that he was the only one who could smell the lust comin' off her in--

Did he say her? Him. He meant him. He meant him, right? Because...because if he didn't, it also meant--

There it was again. That confusing scent...that elusive smell. It was flying out of her pores, and it was getting stronger. Now his memory kicked in--he'd smelled this before, right before he left the first time for Canada, right after their little talk about being on the right side...but that couldn't be right, could it? All this time? But his body knew, even if his mind was arguing up a...storm.

The pun was awful. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Thank you for the talk, Logan," she said. Her face was bright. Almost cheery. Was that his doing? "You were right. I needed to talk it through. Ah, well. As you say, I will get over it."

"Anytime," he said. His voice sounded like a rusty chainsaw. He cleared it. "So, uh, you gonna be okay now, or what?"

Her smile turned sad and his chest, as well as parts a little further down, burned hot and cold at the same time. He couldn't deny it anymore and rose uncomfortably from the couch. If Ororo saw anything, neither her body chemistry nor her face revealed the truth.

"I will be," she said softly, and went behind her desk. She casually shuffled some stray student's papers and pretended like she didn't have any feelings for him. But he knew better now.

Logan's legs moved against his will and he placed his palms on her desk, leaning in close. His vocal chords started vibrating, his lips started moving, but he didn't want them to. Shut up, just shut up, and walk out the door--

"You got any ideas that'll help ya get better?"

God, she had that same knowing, sexy smile of the Mona Lisa. "No. Not really, Logan."

"You sure 'bout that?" Shut up, dammit!

Her eyes melted into his, and his mind stumbled for words. Luckily his body didn't. It moved to an entirely different beat, the invisible, erotic tangle that only men in love knew. Love. Yes, love. Fine, all right? He finally admitted it.

"Come here, Ororo."

"Why--"

He tentatively touched her lips with his finger and her eyes lowered passionately. A slow tear ran down her cheek, but she obeyed him and went to the other side of her desk. His arms trembled as he took her head in his hands, forcing her to look at him. Another tear rolled from her eye. He touched it.

"Maybe this'll help," he whispered.

He leaned in close. She didn't flinch as his lips brushed her cheek and she closed her eyes. His lips gently swept hers, but now he closed his own eyes, tasting another wet tear, and wanting all the world to be the one who could stop the slow trickle from her eyes. His mouth steadied over hers and their lips parted perfectly in unison, as he knew they would.

Bingo.

He swore he heard trumpets--or maybe that was thunder. This was it, this was right. They kept kissing, and neither stopped for air, which sent thrills through them both. Or maybe it was lightning. Either way, it felt damn good. He hugged her closer to his body and her hands encircled his waist. Their lips roamed their faces hungrily, kissing necks, kissing cheeks, kissing lips...God, why hadn't they done this before? Why'd he have to be so damn dense?

When they finally paused--which neither wanted, but they had to find out if the other wore the same, silly, infectious grin--Logan felt a peace he'd never had before. And her eyes were full of hope again, which amazed him. He put that feeling in her eyes. Thank you, her eyes said. He grinned so hard, his cheeks got sore. He hoped his eyes thanked her back. She put the same silly, hopeful feeling in his heart that she wore plastered across her face.

He started laughing like an idiot.

"What?"

"I just...I...I dunno, 'Ro. I don't know what to say."

He beamed at her and she beamed back. "We wasted a lot of months trying to figure out what to say."

"Yeah," he sighed, and held her close to his chest. "But we'll make up for it."

She sighed contentedly, hugged the stuffing out of him, and cried all at the same time--but it was joy this time, 100% pure joy. That smell sent him over the edge. His heart burst inside. No man should ever feel this good.

As Ororo's lips grazed a sensitive patch on his neck, he growled softly. "Maybe I could ask Xavier if he needs a new shop teacher."

"Yes, ask him," she mumbled, right before she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him close to her lips. "But not right now. I'm busy."

He grinned again.

Yeah, he'd stick around this time. This was definitely worth staying home for.

--Fin--