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xp_logsBackdated to May 6th, after Haunted House. Logan decides to take Ororo out properly to apologize for that nasty bruise he gave her. They both discover that apparently Murphy hates them, but they manage to have a good time anyway. A, erm, very good time, apparently.
Logan whistled softly to himself as he headed for Ororo's door. While the tuxedo was never really his thing, he was _really_ liking this new tailored suit he'd picked up. Fit properly and according to Marie he was a concentrated dose of pure ladykiller. Adjusting the rose in his lapel buttonhole, he knocked on Ororo's door. Tonight was going to be first-class all the way. No more hitting bars for boilermakers or putzing around in her garden. She deserved to be taken out _proper_.
'Ro checked herself in her mirror one last time, always ready on time despite her normally-busy schedule. Knowing Logan and his taste of venues, she had dressed appropriately. Short leather skirt, tall boots, and a skimpy black top that had enough spangles to make even Alison happy. She felt like she was set to go out trolling the streets again, and she smirked at her reflection. When in Rome... though I think even togas covered more than this.
Logan knocked again, just in case Ororo missed it the first time. This evening was going to cost him a fortune, but that was OK with him. All those weeks spent playing pool with bikers and fleecing them out of their coin - plus all his salary from here at Xavier's - was being well-spent indeed. If she'd ever open her _door_ maybe they could get this whole evening started. Boy, was she going to be surprised when she saw him.
“I am coming!” she called, running her fingers through her new, shorter hair before turning away from the mirror. Carefully making her way to the door, she pulled it open, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Logan… in a suit. “Logan,” she managed after a moment, blinking. “You look nice.”
Logan took a moment to check Ororo out. Leather - lots of leather. Leather and sparkly things. Leather, sparkly things, and fuck-me boots. And a very short skirt, he was happy to see. "Hey." he said. "That's a new look for you." he said after a moment once he'd fought his libido down.
Inexplicably a blush rose to color Ororo’s cheeks as she realized just how unsuitable her outfit was, in light of what he was wearing. “Yes…” she said, taking a step back from the door. “Though I think I may have to change. You didn’t say what type of evening this was going to be. I just assumed…”
Logan waved off her apology. "No, it's my fault, darlin'. I didn't say." he said, kicking himself for it. Way to go, Logan, you fuckup. "I can come back later..." he offered half-heartedly.
“No, no, please. It will only take a moment to change. Please, come in.” She gestured to the couch, which was framed on both sides by two tall, healthy-looking plants. “I will be right back.”
Logan closed her door and sank into her couch and resolved himself to wait for at least a half an hour. Maybe even more. At least the scenery would be good, as 'Ro was notoriously scant on the body-modesty front. Suited him just fine, truth be told. Not only was she more than pleasant to look at, she was comfortable just being her. That was appealing.
Surprisingly, it was only a few minutes later that Ororo stuck her head out the open bedroom door, smiling apologetically at Logan. “Just a moment… I seem to have misplaced my shoe.” She was clad in a dark red dress, cut a little more modestly and with a longer hem.
Like the color." he commented. She'd covered up a little, but she was still a beautiful woman and Logan _always_ appreciated a good-looking woman. Logan adjusted a suspender mildly then watched her tear through her closet like a Woman on a Mission (tm). "Want some help with that?" he asked, sealing his own doom.
“Yes!” Motioning him closer, she held out a foot so that he could see the sandal already strapped there. “It is like that one, but the other foot. I know it cannot be buried too deeply…”
"You lost your left shoe?" he asked incredulously, then shrugged. "All right, how hard can this be?" He stepped over to the closet in question, and then knew deep in his metal-shod _bones_ that he was in Hell.
It seemed that Ororo was right up there with Lorna on the serious shoe-addiction front.
"That's a _lot_ of shoes." he deadpanned, then resolved himself to spending another half-hour looking for her damned shoe.
“I didn’t lose it,” Ororo said, pursing her lips as she surveyed the spread with mild annoyance. “It is merely misplaced. And I would not have this problem if my favorite shoes hadn’t been burnt beyond salvation in the Hellfire Club.”
She bent and began to shuffle through the shoes, putting them aside as she confirmed that they were not, in fact, the shoes she was looking for.
Logan sorted through shoes, finding a good number of mated pairs of shoes that looked almost exactly like the one on her foot. This was not precisely how he had imagined this evening starting out. Ororo's feet weren't as bad as some, but foot-smell was not ever going to be on his Top Ten list of favorite odors.
“Here,” she said at last, grinning and pulling out a shoe that looked just like the last two Logan had just put aside. “There,” she said, slipping it on and standing up straight. “Now I am ready. Thank you for your help.”
"You're welcome." he said, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. Maybe sometime this century he'd get the smell of shoe-leather, Ororo's feet, and closet must out of his nose. "Shall we?" he asked as gallantly as he could, gesturing for her door.
“Of course.” Grabbing a wrap from the closet, Ororo headed out into the hallway, wondering what the students would think if they saw her and Logan dressed up this way. Or the staff, for that matter. “So may I expect a limousine?” she asked, glancing at Logan with a smirk. “Or a coach?”
Logan cursed under his breath. He KNEW he'd forgotten something! "Not ... exactly." he said, leading the two of them down to the garage. Maybe they'd have something suitable for this little soiree. If he was a praying man, he'd have hit his knees by now.
Sadly, no limousine was evident when they reached the garage. Nor was there a coach, and none of the horses in the nearby stables could be classified as snow-white. Ororo surveyed the hanging keys, lifting an eyebrow. “We could take a Jeep?”
Logan looked at the rather sparse expanse of keys, then at the sign-out logbook. "No Jeeps." he said with clenched teeth. "All that we've got left is the Professor's Rolls, which we can't take, or ..." He let his voice trail off as he flipped pages in the logbook. "Can you sit sidesaddle?" he asked her desperately.
‘Ro leaned forward and peered over his shoulder, laughing. “I think I can manage.”
Logan let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good." he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out Scott's bike keys. "We got reservations at one of the fancy places in the city." he told her as he wheeled the bike over.
For the second time that night Ororo had to try not to look too surprised, as well as not too ridiculous as she managed to slide onto the bike behind him. “You have really gone all out, Logan,” she remarked. “You know that was not necessary. I always enjoy your company.”
Logan just shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Figured you deserved a proper night out." he said, then goosed the throttle on the bike. "Classy lady, classy places. Pretty simple to me."
Ororo leaned forward, giving him a kiss on one scruffy sideburn before fastening her arms tightly about his waist. Sure, it was a bit strange, but she honestly couldn’t say it was the weirdest thing to ever happen to her. Not by a long shot.
___________________
Logan's stomach was attempting to crawl up his spinal column and devour his brain for sustenance. The place he'd picked out to take 'Ro was disgustingly expensive, which he expected, but it was also a devotee of nouveau cuisine, which he wasn't. The portions were tasty enough, they were just _tiny_. And the cutlery Stonehenge around his plate didn't exactly endear him to the place either. Still, 'Ro seemed to be enjoying it, which made the starvation diet worth it in the end.
“This is delicious,” Ororo remarked, not for the first time, putting down her fork as she finished her salad and smiling across the table at Logan. For all that she usually grabbed a bite of whatever was available in the kitchen, or more often made do with coffee and nibbled snacks, she enjoyed a fine meal as much as anyone. In fact, she looked distinctly comfortable sitting there, patting her mouth delicately with her napkin.
Just then a waiter arrived to clear away their plates and serve the main course – which for ‘Ro was some sort of pasta dish, and for Logan, a steak. “Here you are, sir,” the young man said, setting the plate in front of Logan with a polite smile. “Is that to your liking?”
Logan sniffed, then looked at the steak. "Overcooked." he said, looking directly at the waiter. "Rare. As rare as you can legally make it. Describe a flame to it before you put it on my plate." he told the guy for the third time.
“Er, yes sir. Of course.” A look of consternation crossed the waiter’s face as he once again picked up the plate, whisking it away to the kitchen.
“Perhaps you ought to go show them how it is done?” Ororo suggested helpfully, smirking a bit.
"Don't tempt me." Logan said with a sigh. "It's not that difficult." he groused, washing down his words with a gulp of the bitterly-cold water in his goblet. At this point all he wanted was a huge bucket of Harry's wings and a pitcher or two of beer to wash 'em down with. But this was a Classy Night, so he had to put up with the small indignities.
But damn, the beer and wings were tempting.
“Would you like to share mine while you wait?” she asked, nudging her plate towards the middle of the table. “It’s no steak, but it’s filling, at least.”
Logan shook his head. "I'll be fine, darlin'." he said with a smile. As she elegantly shrugged and went back to her pasta he flagged down a passing waiter and whispered instructions to him. He also slipped him a fifty to make sure the job got done up right. Then, to keep his stomach in his abdomen and not his brain pan, he grabbed the last breadstick and gnawed on it.
Finally the young man carried a plate containing one very-nearly raw steak back to the table, setting it in front of Logan with a proud look. “Will this do, sir?” Ororo barely repressed a noise of disturbance – it looked as if it was still bleeding!
Logan sniffed it again and then beamed. "Perfect. Thanks, Jimmy." he said, then set to with a vengeance. James sniffed and retreated as quickly as dignity would allow. He had other tables to wait, tables with _civilized_ patrons. He'd be lucky if he ever saw a tip out of that troglodyte.
Eating much more calmly, Ororo had a chance to look around the restaurant, taking in the well-attired patrons and tastefully appointed décor. Somewhere nearby she heard a violin playing, and as she turned, she saw a woman being serenaded while her adoring companion looked on. “That poor woman,” she remarked, shaking her head.
Logan, for once inattentive, was too deep into Food Rapture to pay heed to Ororo's comment. He heard the violin and smiled quickly to himself. She was going to _love_ what he had in mind for her next.
Pausing, Ororo set down her fork and grabbed her purse. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then headed off to the ladies room and leaving Logan alone.
The violin solo finally ended to light applause by the patrons, the woman who had been serenaded leaning over the table to give her companion a kiss. Smiling, the musicians looked about the room for any other customers, hoping to find another admirer of the arts to cater to.
Logan discreetly got the musician's attention and waved them over. "My companion here's a real classy lady. Think you guys can make her feel like a Goddess?" he said conspiratorially. "Hundred bucks each in it for ya."
“Yes, of course,” the lead musician said, nodding and looking at Logan a bit dubiously. They had been warned by the wait staff about this particular customer.
A familiar figure wove its way through the tables back to where he sat. “Logan… what is going on?” Ororo asked as she slid into her seat again. She glanced at the musicians and then back at him, a look of “Oh no you didn’t” coming over her face.
Logan shot her his best innocent face. "Don't know what you mean." he said, just as the violinist broke into the opening strains of the serenade. Logan just leaned back and grinned.
Ororo quickly proved that it was possible for her to blush brighter than she had already that evening, though she did seem to be enjoying the attention somewhat. She alternated between shooting murderous looks at Logan and trying not to electrocute the musicians, who were really quite good.
Logan was cheerfully oblivious to the promise of imminent mayhem from Ororo. Besides, if she zapped him he'd heal. And the musicians were actually pretty good for what they were. He saluted her with his waterglass and enjoyed Ororo's reaction to being serenaded. He had to keep from frowning, though - she wasn't nearly as pleased as he thought she'd be. Wonder why that was?
When the musicians finally finished and departed, significantly richer thanks to Logan, Ororo leaned across the table, beckoning to Logan with a finger. “You think you are funny, I’m sure,” she said in a low voice. “But remember who is in charge of the chore rosters.”
Logan gave her a wounded look. "Whaaaat?" he said theatrically. "Pretty lady like you deserves to have songs sung to her." he pointed out.
“Mm,” Ororo said eloquently, sitting back in her chair. “The trouble is I cannot tell if you are being sincere or not. But since you are treating me to all this, I will say that I appreciate the gesture.”
Logan sighed and glanced at his watch. "Holy crap!" he said. "We need to get a move on, darlin'. Got one more stop tonight before we head back." He then began to scan the room, looking for poor beleaguered Jimmy so he could pay the check.
Ororo kept quiet throughout the paying of the check, following Logan out of the restaurant and down the sidewalk, purse in hand. “Where are we going?” she asked at last, unable to keep her curiosity in check any longer.
Logan escorted her another block, then waved up to the sign. "Opera!" he said with a triumphant grin. She'd _love_ it, he knew she would! She was all for the music and the pageantry and all that crap. All he had to do was stay alive for the performance.
“Oh, Logan,” ‘Ro breathed, looking up at the sign. Now this was some music she could truly appreciate. “Lohengrin. This is wonderful. I didn’t know you were a fan,” she added, looking at him curiously.
"Man of many talents." he said, lying his ass off and hoping she wouldn't notice. "I told you - this is your night. Come on, we've got great seats." He offered her his arm to escort her into the building to take their seats. Curtain was due to go up in twenty, and he'd hate for her to miss a single note, let along the invariable fat lady shrieking in Italian.
Fucking Italians.
Luckily for Logan, the opera he was about to endure was not in the mellifluous, cadenced tongue of Italian, but rather the harsh and sometimes guttural German. Not that it made it any easier for him to understand. Ororo sat raptly throughout the first act, enjoying the beautiful scenery and talented singers who unfolded the story of betrayal and a knight in shining armor who mysteriously arrived to rescue the princess, who had been accused of murder by her evil warder.
Logan was trying to keep up. Really he was. But the whole thing just bored him to tears. At least they didn't some fat broad screeching in Italian. Her sister had taken her place - and screeching in German was just as bad. He made it through the first act by an act of sheer bloody willpower.
It was midway through the second act that Ororo noticed Logan wasn’t enjoying the opera quite as much as she was. On the other hand, he seemed to be enjoying his nap just fine. She looked slightly perturbed, but let him be. As long as he doesn’t snore…
As if on cue, Logan began to softly snore. It was eerie how much in-tune it was with the opera - as the action got more intense and the singing got more strident, so too did Logan's snores.
She tried to ignore it, she really did, but eventually the snores drew the stares of other audience members. Ororo gave them apologetic smiles and leaned over, digging her elbow into Logan’s side sharply.
Ow. Now I remember, adamantium ribs… With a wince, Ororo cupped her elbow, wondering if she’d bruise herself stomping on his foot…
Logan awoke in an instant, as was his usual wont. He was in the middle of this most incredible dream. It was just him and these three incredible ... pissed-off opera-goers? No, that couldn't be right! Oh! Night out with 'Ro! SHIT!
Logan tried to smooth his way out of it, to look casual. "Great opera, innit?" he whispered to Ororo.
“I am beginning to think your professed appreciation was a bit of an untruth,” she replied with a smirk, shaking her head. “Let’s get out of here before the next act, shall we?”
Logan shook his head. "You enjoy this stuff. We stay." he said firmly and resolved to stay awake at all costs. He could stay awake for forty-eight straight hours on a stakeout, and those were the most boring things on the planet. Yet a couple of fat Germans screeching at the top of their lungs sent him into lullabye-land? Logan didn't think so.
“Logan. There are two more hours of this. I have had my fill, and besides, I am hungry for dessert.” Ororo raised her eyebrows questioningly. “You would not want to ruin this wonderful evening by keeping me hungry, would you?”
Two. More. Hours.
"All right, I can't argue with the lady on her day." he said in a friendly tone. Excusing themselves, the two of them let themselves out and headed out to the invigorating evening air of New York City. "Hey, look. I'm sorry about that." he said, embarrassed. "No call for wrecking your good time."
“I am having a lovely time,” Ororo corrected him with a smile. “Even without the opera. I--” All of a sudden she stumbled, and may have fallen if it wasn’t for his quick reaction. “Oh, no,” she said, gazing down at her feet with an annoyed expression. One of the shoes they had worked so hard to locate was now sans heel, having caught in a crack in the sidewalk as they walked.
Logan blinked as Ororo's shoe disintegrated. "Ain't that a pisser?" he mused, looking at the broken heel. "Want me to break off the other one so they match?"
Ororo looked almost ready to throw up her hands in frustration – after all, it seemed that everything that could go wrong, was. A moment later, however, she began to laugh, one hand on Logan’s shoulder. “All right,” she said, nodding. “Why not?”
Logan took the proffered shoe, popped a claw, and cut it cleanly and neatly to the same length as her broken shoe. "There ya go." he said, handing Ororo back her shoe. "Piece of cake."
“Thank you.” Slipping it back on her foot, she grinned at Logan. “You are quite helpful, even if you do snore louder than the leading tenor.”
"Sounds better, too." he muttered just loud enough so Ororo could hear him. "Umm, 'Ro?" he asked after he sniffed the air. "You sure everything's OK with you?" he asked.
“Yes, everything is fine, I am having a good evening… why?”
"Because we are about to get rained on." he said just as the skies opened up.
Ororo glanced up as fat raindrops began to fall, her grin growing even wider. “This is not of my doing,” she explained, raising her hands as the rain began to soak through her thin wrap.
Logan couldn't help it. He laughed. This evening had been a royal _disaster_ of epic proportions, yet there was still nothing he'd rather be doing more.
Grabbing his hand, ‘Ro began to pull him down the sidewalk, her gait unsteady on her newly-modified shoes. She led him towards a small, covered area bordered by several small shops, including one that sold coffee and ice cream and pastries. “There,” she said, stepping under the awning and pushing her sopping hair out of her eyes. “We are dry for now.”
Logan nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He'd get a haircut if it wasn't completely pointless to do so. "So ... ice cream?" he asked with a grin. Without waiting for her reply, he got in line to pick up a scoop or two.
‘Ro took a seat at a small table, watching with amusement at the people scurrying about in the rain, their umbrellas braced against the downpour. She turned back to Logan as he approached with their dessert, noticing that he seemed to have picked up a follower on his way from the shop. A mime in white facepaint and dark clothes walked two steps behind him, hands held out in front as if he too was holding the cones.
The best part was that the mime seemed to have imitated his posture almost perfectly, complete with the ever-present half-scowl. As Ororo watched, the man reached up and tweaked his gelled hair into a point on either side of his head in a perfect replica of Logan’s own hairstyle.
Logan knew someone was behind him but that was hardly surprising. He sat down in his chair, handing Ororo her ice-cream and a plastic spoon to eat it with. He took _one_ bite of his ice-cream before he spotted the mime who was mocking him.
The mime looked back at him inquisitively, then raised his hands and placed them flat in front of him. ‘Ro began to giggle. “I think you’re in a box,” she said helpfully.
Logan just watched the mime who was apeing his look go through his trapped in a box routine. "Great." he said.
Ororo’s giggles grew louder as the mime hunched his shoulders, stomping around the tiny square and scattering the few small children who were still there. Approaching the table once again, the mime reached out and plucked the flower from Logan’s jacket, handing it to ‘Ro with a flourish. “Oh, thank you,” she said, grinning.
Logan's hands twitched, but he didn't overreact to the mime taking his flower from his lapel. He could have - he was faster than the mime - but there was no real call to start a scene.
Reaching into her purse, Ororo gave the mime a tip, which he pocketed with much ado, finally departing to find someone else to mimic. "That was quite impressive, don't you think?" she asked him sweetly, grinning.
Logan shot Ororo a look, but grinned as he did it. "Guy's got talent." he admitted grudgingly. "Doesn't look like this rain's gonna let up any time real soon." he noted, staring up into the storm.
Ororo nodded her agreement, spooning another bite of ice cream into her mouth. “I’m glad. It makes the city cleaner, if only for a little while.”
"Cuts the stench out of the air." he agreed, eating his ice-cream quickly but neatly. "Scrubs the air clean."
“Yes, exactly.” Ororo smiled, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You have put up with an awful lot tonight, Logan. The dinner, the opera, the mime…” She giggled a bit, giving him an apologetic look. “Thank you.”
"I owed you." he said, leaning forward to gently touch the spot where he clonked her on the forehead. "And even if I didn't, I'd still do it. I've been alone for a long time, 'Ro. Figure maybe it's time to come in from the cold a little." he said quietly.
“I agree,” she said, nodding and putting a hand over his. “But the warmth does not have to include opera, just so you know. Harry’s is equally as welcoming, or the mansion…”
"You put up with my crap more than I do yours. Only fair, 'Ro." he said with a grin. "And the other nice thing about gettin' out like this is it gets me away from the carebear. Find the stench of self-righteousness a little overbearing."
“Well, I am sure a good storm will wash that stench away as well,” ‘Ro said, smirking. She finished her ice cream, leaning back to toss the cup and spoon into a nearby trashcan. “I think you will find that Nathan has calmed significantly since you last spoke. Perhaps you can talk with him again and resolve your differences.”
Logan snorted. Loudly. "Not likely." he said. "Got no time for his attitude. Maybe later, when he demonstrates he's something other than a carebear with a holy cause." he added bitterly. "Got no truck with that sort. Roads'll be slick, but we should be able to make it back to Westchester."
With a nod Ororo stood, smirking a bit at her shoes. "Why is it when I am dressed up around you, something bad always happens? I have ruined three pairs of shoes with some help from you so far."
"Not my fault, darlin'." he said with a laugh, if a slightly bitter one. "I only cut the one because you asked."
“Yes, I know. And it has been said that I have too many, so… perhaps it is a good thing.” She gave him a grin, taking his arm. “I am only teasing, Logan. I have been ruining shoes long before you returned.”
"And you'll ruin a lot more after I roll outta town." he said. "Besides, hate to get between you and Lorna and a shoe sale." he said with a not-entirely-mock shudder. "Come on, biker chick, let's roll." he grinned as he led her back to where the bike was parked.
Once again Ororo managed to slid on behind Logan, the task made more difficult this time by the pouring rain. “Scott may have our heads for driving out in this,” she said in Logan’s ear, sounding a little giddy.
Logan chuckled as he revved the bike. "You fly and I'll heal. Even if we wipe it's not the end of the world." he said, then took off into the downpour. The trip back was much slower than the trip in, mostly due to the rain, and by the time they were inside Westchester proper Logan had given his coat to Ororo and was doing his best wet-dress-shirt contest impression. Yet he had a big ol' grin on his face and he actually whooped as they pulled into the garage.
As soon as Ororo got her feet on the ground she kicked off her shoes, feeling the water start to puddle around her bare feet almost immediately. “We made it,” she declared with a grin, shaking her head until tiny droplets of water sprayed out around her.
Logan looked faintly wounded that she thought his skill wasn't enough to get them home alive. Even if they almost _did_ wipe on that one turn - tendons healed back just fine, and more to the point he didn't throw his rider. "Yeah." he said. "I'm thinking nice hot shower..." he mused, then looked at 'Ro.
"Got room for two." he told her with a grin.
Oh, how she wanted to say yes. Logan had been so charming and thoughtful all night, and the thrilling ride back in the rain had certainly gotten her blood pumping. She felt a thrill run through her at the grin he gave, and hated the responsible stomping down she immediately gave it. It wasn’t wise, it wasn’t prudent, and goddess only knew what kind of drama it might create. But it had been so long, damnit.
“Don’t you think you are wet enough already?” she asked playfully, trying to buy herself some more time as she fought for her decision. At least he deactivated himself… there is no professional conflict here.
Logan pondered that one for a second. "Isn't that my line?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow and another grin.
“It’s been a very long time since I have done this,” Ororo admitted, her smile fading a bit. “I seem to have forgotten.”
"Now that's a damned shame." he said. "I ain't the pressurin' sort. You decide you want this, you know where you can find me. Bring a towel." he smirked, then left her to her decision. Could go either way, and no matter which way it went, he'd be happy with the day.
Be happier if she said yes, he had to admit to himself, shifting a bit in the elevator.
It was very early when Ororo awoke, despite the late hour she had gotten to sleep the night before. She blinked sleepily, a bit confused. It was much darker than she was used to, since she usually kept every curtain in her suite pulled open. There was something else strange, too… She shifted, her arm brushing against someone else’s bare side. Oh. Well, that would do it.
Logan whuffed a bit at the contact. He was semiconscious at best, and in the full grip of one of the nightmare reels in his mind. This one was the Bad Men with Bone Drills XXVII, a personal favorite of his. He was back in the tank, the cut-marks drawn on his flesh in some sort of ink, and over the tank floated a very, very large needle hooked into the hot adamantium reservoir. The needle - no, a drill - was whirring into life and lowering down ever closer to him, closer, just breaking the surface of the water and whipping it into a froth...
“Logan!” Ororo rolled aside just as Logan’s arm thumped the mattress where she had been lying. “Wake up, Logan,” she said, scooting towards the edge of the bed.
Logan in the grip of a nightmare was not easy to wake. He groaned, flailing a bit, but not seriously. Inside his mind, the bone drill was just about to break into his flesh while around the tank faceless nameless men clinked champagne flutes and toasted their success.
Rather than wake him and risk the reaction he might have at being torn from what was obviously a vivid dream, Ororo slid her legs out from under the blankets and stood. She reached for the nearest item of clothing, which happened to be Logan’s now-wrinkled dress shirt which had been flung over the back of a chair. Pulling it on, she padded over to a window and pulled it open, smiling at the cool breeze that flowed in.
The cool breeze helped bring him closer to consciousness. With a wordless cry he sat bolt-upright in bed, hands curled into claws. His actual claws, however, stayed firmly sheathed. He just stared into nothing and panted for a few moments while the dream fled and reality flooded back in.
Approaching the bed, ‘Ro sat down on the edge, quietly watching Logan. She was no stranger to nightmares, though her sleep as of late was mostly undisturbed.
Logan looked over to Ororo. "Mornin', darlin'." he said, running his hand through an impressive case of bed-head. "How ya feelin'?" he asked her with just the hint of a grin.
“Well enough, thank you,” Ororo said, pursing her lips. She gave him an arch look and then smiled, moving to pull her legs back onto the bed. “I think perhaps I could sleep several more hours before I am actually well-rested.”
"Can think of better ways to spend a lazy morning in..." he said with a grin. "But first - pit stop." He rolled completely out of bed, not wearing a stitch, and wandered off to his bathroom to take care of business.
Ororo stared after him blatantly, shrugging off the shirt and slipping back under the sheets when the door finally closed. Scott will want to kill me. Nathan too. But goddess help me, I don’t care.
Logan whistled softly to himself as he headed for Ororo's door. While the tuxedo was never really his thing, he was _really_ liking this new tailored suit he'd picked up. Fit properly and according to Marie he was a concentrated dose of pure ladykiller. Adjusting the rose in his lapel buttonhole, he knocked on Ororo's door. Tonight was going to be first-class all the way. No more hitting bars for boilermakers or putzing around in her garden. She deserved to be taken out _proper_.
'Ro checked herself in her mirror one last time, always ready on time despite her normally-busy schedule. Knowing Logan and his taste of venues, she had dressed appropriately. Short leather skirt, tall boots, and a skimpy black top that had enough spangles to make even Alison happy. She felt like she was set to go out trolling the streets again, and she smirked at her reflection. When in Rome... though I think even togas covered more than this.
Logan knocked again, just in case Ororo missed it the first time. This evening was going to cost him a fortune, but that was OK with him. All those weeks spent playing pool with bikers and fleecing them out of their coin - plus all his salary from here at Xavier's - was being well-spent indeed. If she'd ever open her _door_ maybe they could get this whole evening started. Boy, was she going to be surprised when she saw him.
“I am coming!” she called, running her fingers through her new, shorter hair before turning away from the mirror. Carefully making her way to the door, she pulled it open, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Logan… in a suit. “Logan,” she managed after a moment, blinking. “You look nice.”
Logan took a moment to check Ororo out. Leather - lots of leather. Leather and sparkly things. Leather, sparkly things, and fuck-me boots. And a very short skirt, he was happy to see. "Hey." he said. "That's a new look for you." he said after a moment once he'd fought his libido down.
Inexplicably a blush rose to color Ororo’s cheeks as she realized just how unsuitable her outfit was, in light of what he was wearing. “Yes…” she said, taking a step back from the door. “Though I think I may have to change. You didn’t say what type of evening this was going to be. I just assumed…”
Logan waved off her apology. "No, it's my fault, darlin'. I didn't say." he said, kicking himself for it. Way to go, Logan, you fuckup. "I can come back later..." he offered half-heartedly.
“No, no, please. It will only take a moment to change. Please, come in.” She gestured to the couch, which was framed on both sides by two tall, healthy-looking plants. “I will be right back.”
Logan closed her door and sank into her couch and resolved himself to wait for at least a half an hour. Maybe even more. At least the scenery would be good, as 'Ro was notoriously scant on the body-modesty front. Suited him just fine, truth be told. Not only was she more than pleasant to look at, she was comfortable just being her. That was appealing.
Surprisingly, it was only a few minutes later that Ororo stuck her head out the open bedroom door, smiling apologetically at Logan. “Just a moment… I seem to have misplaced my shoe.” She was clad in a dark red dress, cut a little more modestly and with a longer hem.
Like the color." he commented. She'd covered up a little, but she was still a beautiful woman and Logan _always_ appreciated a good-looking woman. Logan adjusted a suspender mildly then watched her tear through her closet like a Woman on a Mission (tm). "Want some help with that?" he asked, sealing his own doom.
“Yes!” Motioning him closer, she held out a foot so that he could see the sandal already strapped there. “It is like that one, but the other foot. I know it cannot be buried too deeply…”
"You lost your left shoe?" he asked incredulously, then shrugged. "All right, how hard can this be?" He stepped over to the closet in question, and then knew deep in his metal-shod _bones_ that he was in Hell.
It seemed that Ororo was right up there with Lorna on the serious shoe-addiction front.
"That's a _lot_ of shoes." he deadpanned, then resolved himself to spending another half-hour looking for her damned shoe.
“I didn’t lose it,” Ororo said, pursing her lips as she surveyed the spread with mild annoyance. “It is merely misplaced. And I would not have this problem if my favorite shoes hadn’t been burnt beyond salvation in the Hellfire Club.”
She bent and began to shuffle through the shoes, putting them aside as she confirmed that they were not, in fact, the shoes she was looking for.
Logan sorted through shoes, finding a good number of mated pairs of shoes that looked almost exactly like the one on her foot. This was not precisely how he had imagined this evening starting out. Ororo's feet weren't as bad as some, but foot-smell was not ever going to be on his Top Ten list of favorite odors.
“Here,” she said at last, grinning and pulling out a shoe that looked just like the last two Logan had just put aside. “There,” she said, slipping it on and standing up straight. “Now I am ready. Thank you for your help.”
"You're welcome." he said, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. Maybe sometime this century he'd get the smell of shoe-leather, Ororo's feet, and closet must out of his nose. "Shall we?" he asked as gallantly as he could, gesturing for her door.
“Of course.” Grabbing a wrap from the closet, Ororo headed out into the hallway, wondering what the students would think if they saw her and Logan dressed up this way. Or the staff, for that matter. “So may I expect a limousine?” she asked, glancing at Logan with a smirk. “Or a coach?”
Logan cursed under his breath. He KNEW he'd forgotten something! "Not ... exactly." he said, leading the two of them down to the garage. Maybe they'd have something suitable for this little soiree. If he was a praying man, he'd have hit his knees by now.
Sadly, no limousine was evident when they reached the garage. Nor was there a coach, and none of the horses in the nearby stables could be classified as snow-white. Ororo surveyed the hanging keys, lifting an eyebrow. “We could take a Jeep?”
Logan looked at the rather sparse expanse of keys, then at the sign-out logbook. "No Jeeps." he said with clenched teeth. "All that we've got left is the Professor's Rolls, which we can't take, or ..." He let his voice trail off as he flipped pages in the logbook. "Can you sit sidesaddle?" he asked her desperately.
‘Ro leaned forward and peered over his shoulder, laughing. “I think I can manage.”
Logan let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good." he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out Scott's bike keys. "We got reservations at one of the fancy places in the city." he told her as he wheeled the bike over.
For the second time that night Ororo had to try not to look too surprised, as well as not too ridiculous as she managed to slide onto the bike behind him. “You have really gone all out, Logan,” she remarked. “You know that was not necessary. I always enjoy your company.”
Logan just shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Figured you deserved a proper night out." he said, then goosed the throttle on the bike. "Classy lady, classy places. Pretty simple to me."
Ororo leaned forward, giving him a kiss on one scruffy sideburn before fastening her arms tightly about his waist. Sure, it was a bit strange, but she honestly couldn’t say it was the weirdest thing to ever happen to her. Not by a long shot.
___________________
Logan's stomach was attempting to crawl up his spinal column and devour his brain for sustenance. The place he'd picked out to take 'Ro was disgustingly expensive, which he expected, but it was also a devotee of nouveau cuisine, which he wasn't. The portions were tasty enough, they were just _tiny_. And the cutlery Stonehenge around his plate didn't exactly endear him to the place either. Still, 'Ro seemed to be enjoying it, which made the starvation diet worth it in the end.
“This is delicious,” Ororo remarked, not for the first time, putting down her fork as she finished her salad and smiling across the table at Logan. For all that she usually grabbed a bite of whatever was available in the kitchen, or more often made do with coffee and nibbled snacks, she enjoyed a fine meal as much as anyone. In fact, she looked distinctly comfortable sitting there, patting her mouth delicately with her napkin.
Just then a waiter arrived to clear away their plates and serve the main course – which for ‘Ro was some sort of pasta dish, and for Logan, a steak. “Here you are, sir,” the young man said, setting the plate in front of Logan with a polite smile. “Is that to your liking?”
Logan sniffed, then looked at the steak. "Overcooked." he said, looking directly at the waiter. "Rare. As rare as you can legally make it. Describe a flame to it before you put it on my plate." he told the guy for the third time.
“Er, yes sir. Of course.” A look of consternation crossed the waiter’s face as he once again picked up the plate, whisking it away to the kitchen.
“Perhaps you ought to go show them how it is done?” Ororo suggested helpfully, smirking a bit.
"Don't tempt me." Logan said with a sigh. "It's not that difficult." he groused, washing down his words with a gulp of the bitterly-cold water in his goblet. At this point all he wanted was a huge bucket of Harry's wings and a pitcher or two of beer to wash 'em down with. But this was a Classy Night, so he had to put up with the small indignities.
But damn, the beer and wings were tempting.
“Would you like to share mine while you wait?” she asked, nudging her plate towards the middle of the table. “It’s no steak, but it’s filling, at least.”
Logan shook his head. "I'll be fine, darlin'." he said with a smile. As she elegantly shrugged and went back to her pasta he flagged down a passing waiter and whispered instructions to him. He also slipped him a fifty to make sure the job got done up right. Then, to keep his stomach in his abdomen and not his brain pan, he grabbed the last breadstick and gnawed on it.
Finally the young man carried a plate containing one very-nearly raw steak back to the table, setting it in front of Logan with a proud look. “Will this do, sir?” Ororo barely repressed a noise of disturbance – it looked as if it was still bleeding!
Logan sniffed it again and then beamed. "Perfect. Thanks, Jimmy." he said, then set to with a vengeance. James sniffed and retreated as quickly as dignity would allow. He had other tables to wait, tables with _civilized_ patrons. He'd be lucky if he ever saw a tip out of that troglodyte.
Eating much more calmly, Ororo had a chance to look around the restaurant, taking in the well-attired patrons and tastefully appointed décor. Somewhere nearby she heard a violin playing, and as she turned, she saw a woman being serenaded while her adoring companion looked on. “That poor woman,” she remarked, shaking her head.
Logan, for once inattentive, was too deep into Food Rapture to pay heed to Ororo's comment. He heard the violin and smiled quickly to himself. She was going to _love_ what he had in mind for her next.
Pausing, Ororo set down her fork and grabbed her purse. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then headed off to the ladies room and leaving Logan alone.
The violin solo finally ended to light applause by the patrons, the woman who had been serenaded leaning over the table to give her companion a kiss. Smiling, the musicians looked about the room for any other customers, hoping to find another admirer of the arts to cater to.
Logan discreetly got the musician's attention and waved them over. "My companion here's a real classy lady. Think you guys can make her feel like a Goddess?" he said conspiratorially. "Hundred bucks each in it for ya."
“Yes, of course,” the lead musician said, nodding and looking at Logan a bit dubiously. They had been warned by the wait staff about this particular customer.
A familiar figure wove its way through the tables back to where he sat. “Logan… what is going on?” Ororo asked as she slid into her seat again. She glanced at the musicians and then back at him, a look of “Oh no you didn’t” coming over her face.
Logan shot her his best innocent face. "Don't know what you mean." he said, just as the violinist broke into the opening strains of the serenade. Logan just leaned back and grinned.
Ororo quickly proved that it was possible for her to blush brighter than she had already that evening, though she did seem to be enjoying the attention somewhat. She alternated between shooting murderous looks at Logan and trying not to electrocute the musicians, who were really quite good.
Logan was cheerfully oblivious to the promise of imminent mayhem from Ororo. Besides, if she zapped him he'd heal. And the musicians were actually pretty good for what they were. He saluted her with his waterglass and enjoyed Ororo's reaction to being serenaded. He had to keep from frowning, though - she wasn't nearly as pleased as he thought she'd be. Wonder why that was?
When the musicians finally finished and departed, significantly richer thanks to Logan, Ororo leaned across the table, beckoning to Logan with a finger. “You think you are funny, I’m sure,” she said in a low voice. “But remember who is in charge of the chore rosters.”
Logan gave her a wounded look. "Whaaaat?" he said theatrically. "Pretty lady like you deserves to have songs sung to her." he pointed out.
“Mm,” Ororo said eloquently, sitting back in her chair. “The trouble is I cannot tell if you are being sincere or not. But since you are treating me to all this, I will say that I appreciate the gesture.”
Logan sighed and glanced at his watch. "Holy crap!" he said. "We need to get a move on, darlin'. Got one more stop tonight before we head back." He then began to scan the room, looking for poor beleaguered Jimmy so he could pay the check.
Ororo kept quiet throughout the paying of the check, following Logan out of the restaurant and down the sidewalk, purse in hand. “Where are we going?” she asked at last, unable to keep her curiosity in check any longer.
Logan escorted her another block, then waved up to the sign. "Opera!" he said with a triumphant grin. She'd _love_ it, he knew she would! She was all for the music and the pageantry and all that crap. All he had to do was stay alive for the performance.
“Oh, Logan,” ‘Ro breathed, looking up at the sign. Now this was some music she could truly appreciate. “Lohengrin. This is wonderful. I didn’t know you were a fan,” she added, looking at him curiously.
"Man of many talents." he said, lying his ass off and hoping she wouldn't notice. "I told you - this is your night. Come on, we've got great seats." He offered her his arm to escort her into the building to take their seats. Curtain was due to go up in twenty, and he'd hate for her to miss a single note, let along the invariable fat lady shrieking in Italian.
Fucking Italians.
Luckily for Logan, the opera he was about to endure was not in the mellifluous, cadenced tongue of Italian, but rather the harsh and sometimes guttural German. Not that it made it any easier for him to understand. Ororo sat raptly throughout the first act, enjoying the beautiful scenery and talented singers who unfolded the story of betrayal and a knight in shining armor who mysteriously arrived to rescue the princess, who had been accused of murder by her evil warder.
Logan was trying to keep up. Really he was. But the whole thing just bored him to tears. At least they didn't some fat broad screeching in Italian. Her sister had taken her place - and screeching in German was just as bad. He made it through the first act by an act of sheer bloody willpower.
It was midway through the second act that Ororo noticed Logan wasn’t enjoying the opera quite as much as she was. On the other hand, he seemed to be enjoying his nap just fine. She looked slightly perturbed, but let him be. As long as he doesn’t snore…
As if on cue, Logan began to softly snore. It was eerie how much in-tune it was with the opera - as the action got more intense and the singing got more strident, so too did Logan's snores.
She tried to ignore it, she really did, but eventually the snores drew the stares of other audience members. Ororo gave them apologetic smiles and leaned over, digging her elbow into Logan’s side sharply.
Ow. Now I remember, adamantium ribs… With a wince, Ororo cupped her elbow, wondering if she’d bruise herself stomping on his foot…
Logan awoke in an instant, as was his usual wont. He was in the middle of this most incredible dream. It was just him and these three incredible ... pissed-off opera-goers? No, that couldn't be right! Oh! Night out with 'Ro! SHIT!
Logan tried to smooth his way out of it, to look casual. "Great opera, innit?" he whispered to Ororo.
“I am beginning to think your professed appreciation was a bit of an untruth,” she replied with a smirk, shaking her head. “Let’s get out of here before the next act, shall we?”
Logan shook his head. "You enjoy this stuff. We stay." he said firmly and resolved to stay awake at all costs. He could stay awake for forty-eight straight hours on a stakeout, and those were the most boring things on the planet. Yet a couple of fat Germans screeching at the top of their lungs sent him into lullabye-land? Logan didn't think so.
“Logan. There are two more hours of this. I have had my fill, and besides, I am hungry for dessert.” Ororo raised her eyebrows questioningly. “You would not want to ruin this wonderful evening by keeping me hungry, would you?”
Two. More. Hours.
"All right, I can't argue with the lady on her day." he said in a friendly tone. Excusing themselves, the two of them let themselves out and headed out to the invigorating evening air of New York City. "Hey, look. I'm sorry about that." he said, embarrassed. "No call for wrecking your good time."
“I am having a lovely time,” Ororo corrected him with a smile. “Even without the opera. I--” All of a sudden she stumbled, and may have fallen if it wasn’t for his quick reaction. “Oh, no,” she said, gazing down at her feet with an annoyed expression. One of the shoes they had worked so hard to locate was now sans heel, having caught in a crack in the sidewalk as they walked.
Logan blinked as Ororo's shoe disintegrated. "Ain't that a pisser?" he mused, looking at the broken heel. "Want me to break off the other one so they match?"
Ororo looked almost ready to throw up her hands in frustration – after all, it seemed that everything that could go wrong, was. A moment later, however, she began to laugh, one hand on Logan’s shoulder. “All right,” she said, nodding. “Why not?”
Logan took the proffered shoe, popped a claw, and cut it cleanly and neatly to the same length as her broken shoe. "There ya go." he said, handing Ororo back her shoe. "Piece of cake."
“Thank you.” Slipping it back on her foot, she grinned at Logan. “You are quite helpful, even if you do snore louder than the leading tenor.”
"Sounds better, too." he muttered just loud enough so Ororo could hear him. "Umm, 'Ro?" he asked after he sniffed the air. "You sure everything's OK with you?" he asked.
“Yes, everything is fine, I am having a good evening… why?”
"Because we are about to get rained on." he said just as the skies opened up.
Ororo glanced up as fat raindrops began to fall, her grin growing even wider. “This is not of my doing,” she explained, raising her hands as the rain began to soak through her thin wrap.
Logan couldn't help it. He laughed. This evening had been a royal _disaster_ of epic proportions, yet there was still nothing he'd rather be doing more.
Grabbing his hand, ‘Ro began to pull him down the sidewalk, her gait unsteady on her newly-modified shoes. She led him towards a small, covered area bordered by several small shops, including one that sold coffee and ice cream and pastries. “There,” she said, stepping under the awning and pushing her sopping hair out of her eyes. “We are dry for now.”
Logan nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He'd get a haircut if it wasn't completely pointless to do so. "So ... ice cream?" he asked with a grin. Without waiting for her reply, he got in line to pick up a scoop or two.
‘Ro took a seat at a small table, watching with amusement at the people scurrying about in the rain, their umbrellas braced against the downpour. She turned back to Logan as he approached with their dessert, noticing that he seemed to have picked up a follower on his way from the shop. A mime in white facepaint and dark clothes walked two steps behind him, hands held out in front as if he too was holding the cones.
The best part was that the mime seemed to have imitated his posture almost perfectly, complete with the ever-present half-scowl. As Ororo watched, the man reached up and tweaked his gelled hair into a point on either side of his head in a perfect replica of Logan’s own hairstyle.
Logan knew someone was behind him but that was hardly surprising. He sat down in his chair, handing Ororo her ice-cream and a plastic spoon to eat it with. He took _one_ bite of his ice-cream before he spotted the mime who was mocking him.
The mime looked back at him inquisitively, then raised his hands and placed them flat in front of him. ‘Ro began to giggle. “I think you’re in a box,” she said helpfully.
Logan just watched the mime who was apeing his look go through his trapped in a box routine. "Great." he said.
Ororo’s giggles grew louder as the mime hunched his shoulders, stomping around the tiny square and scattering the few small children who were still there. Approaching the table once again, the mime reached out and plucked the flower from Logan’s jacket, handing it to ‘Ro with a flourish. “Oh, thank you,” she said, grinning.
Logan's hands twitched, but he didn't overreact to the mime taking his flower from his lapel. He could have - he was faster than the mime - but there was no real call to start a scene.
Reaching into her purse, Ororo gave the mime a tip, which he pocketed with much ado, finally departing to find someone else to mimic. "That was quite impressive, don't you think?" she asked him sweetly, grinning.
Logan shot Ororo a look, but grinned as he did it. "Guy's got talent." he admitted grudgingly. "Doesn't look like this rain's gonna let up any time real soon." he noted, staring up into the storm.
Ororo nodded her agreement, spooning another bite of ice cream into her mouth. “I’m glad. It makes the city cleaner, if only for a little while.”
"Cuts the stench out of the air." he agreed, eating his ice-cream quickly but neatly. "Scrubs the air clean."
“Yes, exactly.” Ororo smiled, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You have put up with an awful lot tonight, Logan. The dinner, the opera, the mime…” She giggled a bit, giving him an apologetic look. “Thank you.”
"I owed you." he said, leaning forward to gently touch the spot where he clonked her on the forehead. "And even if I didn't, I'd still do it. I've been alone for a long time, 'Ro. Figure maybe it's time to come in from the cold a little." he said quietly.
“I agree,” she said, nodding and putting a hand over his. “But the warmth does not have to include opera, just so you know. Harry’s is equally as welcoming, or the mansion…”
"You put up with my crap more than I do yours. Only fair, 'Ro." he said with a grin. "And the other nice thing about gettin' out like this is it gets me away from the carebear. Find the stench of self-righteousness a little overbearing."
“Well, I am sure a good storm will wash that stench away as well,” ‘Ro said, smirking. She finished her ice cream, leaning back to toss the cup and spoon into a nearby trashcan. “I think you will find that Nathan has calmed significantly since you last spoke. Perhaps you can talk with him again and resolve your differences.”
Logan snorted. Loudly. "Not likely." he said. "Got no time for his attitude. Maybe later, when he demonstrates he's something other than a carebear with a holy cause." he added bitterly. "Got no truck with that sort. Roads'll be slick, but we should be able to make it back to Westchester."
With a nod Ororo stood, smirking a bit at her shoes. "Why is it when I am dressed up around you, something bad always happens? I have ruined three pairs of shoes with some help from you so far."
"Not my fault, darlin'." he said with a laugh, if a slightly bitter one. "I only cut the one because you asked."
“Yes, I know. And it has been said that I have too many, so… perhaps it is a good thing.” She gave him a grin, taking his arm. “I am only teasing, Logan. I have been ruining shoes long before you returned.”
"And you'll ruin a lot more after I roll outta town." he said. "Besides, hate to get between you and Lorna and a shoe sale." he said with a not-entirely-mock shudder. "Come on, biker chick, let's roll." he grinned as he led her back to where the bike was parked.
Once again Ororo managed to slid on behind Logan, the task made more difficult this time by the pouring rain. “Scott may have our heads for driving out in this,” she said in Logan’s ear, sounding a little giddy.
Logan chuckled as he revved the bike. "You fly and I'll heal. Even if we wipe it's not the end of the world." he said, then took off into the downpour. The trip back was much slower than the trip in, mostly due to the rain, and by the time they were inside Westchester proper Logan had given his coat to Ororo and was doing his best wet-dress-shirt contest impression. Yet he had a big ol' grin on his face and he actually whooped as they pulled into the garage.
As soon as Ororo got her feet on the ground she kicked off her shoes, feeling the water start to puddle around her bare feet almost immediately. “We made it,” she declared with a grin, shaking her head until tiny droplets of water sprayed out around her.
Logan looked faintly wounded that she thought his skill wasn't enough to get them home alive. Even if they almost _did_ wipe on that one turn - tendons healed back just fine, and more to the point he didn't throw his rider. "Yeah." he said. "I'm thinking nice hot shower..." he mused, then looked at 'Ro.
"Got room for two." he told her with a grin.
Oh, how she wanted to say yes. Logan had been so charming and thoughtful all night, and the thrilling ride back in the rain had certainly gotten her blood pumping. She felt a thrill run through her at the grin he gave, and hated the responsible stomping down she immediately gave it. It wasn’t wise, it wasn’t prudent, and goddess only knew what kind of drama it might create. But it had been so long, damnit.
“Don’t you think you are wet enough already?” she asked playfully, trying to buy herself some more time as she fought for her decision. At least he deactivated himself… there is no professional conflict here.
Logan pondered that one for a second. "Isn't that my line?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow and another grin.
“It’s been a very long time since I have done this,” Ororo admitted, her smile fading a bit. “I seem to have forgotten.”
"Now that's a damned shame." he said. "I ain't the pressurin' sort. You decide you want this, you know where you can find me. Bring a towel." he smirked, then left her to her decision. Could go either way, and no matter which way it went, he'd be happy with the day.
Be happier if she said yes, he had to admit to himself, shifting a bit in the elevator.
It was very early when Ororo awoke, despite the late hour she had gotten to sleep the night before. She blinked sleepily, a bit confused. It was much darker than she was used to, since she usually kept every curtain in her suite pulled open. There was something else strange, too… She shifted, her arm brushing against someone else’s bare side. Oh. Well, that would do it.
Logan whuffed a bit at the contact. He was semiconscious at best, and in the full grip of one of the nightmare reels in his mind. This one was the Bad Men with Bone Drills XXVII, a personal favorite of his. He was back in the tank, the cut-marks drawn on his flesh in some sort of ink, and over the tank floated a very, very large needle hooked into the hot adamantium reservoir. The needle - no, a drill - was whirring into life and lowering down ever closer to him, closer, just breaking the surface of the water and whipping it into a froth...
“Logan!” Ororo rolled aside just as Logan’s arm thumped the mattress where she had been lying. “Wake up, Logan,” she said, scooting towards the edge of the bed.
Logan in the grip of a nightmare was not easy to wake. He groaned, flailing a bit, but not seriously. Inside his mind, the bone drill was just about to break into his flesh while around the tank faceless nameless men clinked champagne flutes and toasted their success.
Rather than wake him and risk the reaction he might have at being torn from what was obviously a vivid dream, Ororo slid her legs out from under the blankets and stood. She reached for the nearest item of clothing, which happened to be Logan’s now-wrinkled dress shirt which had been flung over the back of a chair. Pulling it on, she padded over to a window and pulled it open, smiling at the cool breeze that flowed in.
The cool breeze helped bring him closer to consciousness. With a wordless cry he sat bolt-upright in bed, hands curled into claws. His actual claws, however, stayed firmly sheathed. He just stared into nothing and panted for a few moments while the dream fled and reality flooded back in.
Approaching the bed, ‘Ro sat down on the edge, quietly watching Logan. She was no stranger to nightmares, though her sleep as of late was mostly undisturbed.
Logan looked over to Ororo. "Mornin', darlin'." he said, running his hand through an impressive case of bed-head. "How ya feelin'?" he asked her with just the hint of a grin.
“Well enough, thank you,” Ororo said, pursing her lips. She gave him an arch look and then smiled, moving to pull her legs back onto the bed. “I think perhaps I could sleep several more hours before I am actually well-rested.”
"Can think of better ways to spend a lazy morning in..." he said with a grin. "But first - pit stop." He rolled completely out of bed, not wearing a stitch, and wandered off to his bathroom to take care of business.
Ororo stared after him blatantly, shrugging off the shirt and slipping back under the sheets when the door finally closed. Scott will want to kill me. Nathan too. But goddess help me, I don’t care.
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