xp_logs | Logan and Em (Reply)

Marie went loping upstairs as soon as she figured out what Sarah meant by her cryptic post. For some reason, the idea made her oddly happy. A good fight was good for Logan, and a little blood wasn't anything to get upset about. She knocked lightly on his door. "Logan?"

"Yeah." Logan was standing in the bathroom with the door open, staring in the mirror at his shoulder. It was Marie, so he wasn't concerned about answering the door properly. "C'mon in." He prodded the still-bleeding wound.

She slipped in and looked around, catching sight of him in the bathroom. She closed the door and came to him immediately, expression curious instead of concerned. "Good?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." His hand came away bloody, and he rinsed it in the sink before turning toward her, drying his hands on a towel. He imagined it was probably still bleeding in the back, too. His sweats were ruined anyway. "You?" He leaned against the door frame.

"I'm fine. I meant your fight." She took the towel out of his hands. "Turn around, you're going to drip on something."

He snorted, but turned around anyway. "It was good. She's...better 'n I remembered."

"Remember what Mr. Marko says. We have to be /respectful/ of the house, Logan." She wiped the blood from his back. "I'm glad you had fun." She turned him around and smiled up at him. "It's good for you. Just remember to respect the carpets, young man, or Mr. Marko will think you don't care."

He snorted again. "Chuck can bill me for replacin' the flooring in the Fencin' Hall. I could give a shit about the carpets." He looked at her, viciousness still etched on his face, and smirked. "It was a good fight."

Marie answered his smile with her own, his vicious edge mirrored in the glint in her eyes and the white flash of her teeth. "I can tell." She stood on her toes and brushed the tip of his nose with hers, the briefest touch.

His eyes narrowed and darkened as she got close, but he didn't move. His eyes slipped shut as her nose brushed his and opened again when she pulled away. He resisted the urge to nip at her with his teeth, pushing the animal instinct away. "'s that obvious?" he asked, voice still low and growly.

"I know you." She stroked his good shoulder, her smile shifted to something a little more secret. "I didn't even have to see you to know. But now that I do... I'm certain."

He hissed in a breath as the last of the wound closed and healed over, pushing out a few more drops of blood as it did so, then met her eyes. "You know me better 'n anyone."

"I think so," she said calmly, returning his gaze for a long moment. "Do you mind?" She dropped her eyes then and turned her attention to cleaning the last of the blood from his skin.

He shook his head, tugging a lock of her hair. "You prob'ly would anyway. I kinda like it," he murmured, turning around so that she could clean his back.

"It's the worst part of it, really. The part that makes me feel like a thief." She ran a clean portion of the towel over his newly formed skin until the blood was gone from it and the towel smeared with red. "I'm glad you don't mind. I'd hate myself if you did." She paused and brushed her gloved fingers gently down his back. "All better," she told him.

"Thanks." He hummed quietly, enjoying being petted. After a moment, he turned back to face her, catching her hand in his. "You haven't stolen anythin' from me."

The movement startled her and her eyes widened but she didn't move away from him. "...I haven't?" She was confused suddenly, her chest was tight and she bit her lip. /I'm a thief,/ she said to herself. /How can he say anything else?/

"'s not stealin' if I gave it to you," he assured her, not releasing her hand.

"You didn't... the first time." Her throat was so tight she could barely talk and her eyes were hot with tears. "And after that, the second time, you didn't have to and you did anyway... I don't mean to take anything from you..."

"The first time, I didn't know I could," he said, remembering that night vividly. He'd been /terrified/, knowing he'd just killed her, that he couldn't do anything to save her.

"It wasn't your fault," she shook her head and tears flew. "It was my fault. I was sorry, I still am."

He squeezed her hand. "It wasn't your fault. It was...an accident." He tipped her chin up with the tip of his thumb, just his thumbnail brushing her skin. "You didn't mean to nearly get yourself killed and I sure as hell didn't mean to nearly kill you."

"I never did figure out why you put up with me," she said quietly. "I was a silly little girl with a crush on you and everyone knew it. Ludicrous, really."

"Because I liked you," he murmured. "Still do."

"...so it's okay?" She wanted desperately for things to be "okay", whatever that was, to be forgiven and absolved and safe and more. But more was out of the question and she wasn't a silly little girl with a crush any longer so she stifled that thought before it got beyond a glimmer in the back of her mind.

He let go of her hand, leaning down to carefully brush his lips over her cheek. "It's okay," he whispered as he drew himself back up.

"Good," she said with a smile, her tears fading. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, schooling herself to her usual competency and closing the door on any other thoughts still lingering. "Go get in the shower, silly, and throw those pants out, not just in the laundry. You may be healed up but you're still all sweaty. I'll make you something to eat."

He glanced down at his pants. "They're done for, huh? Yeah, okay." He ran a hand over her hair, then nodded, stepping back. "You're eatin' with me, right?"

"Yes, I am." She reached out and nudged him toward the shower. "Go on."

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," he said, chuckling. He turned and tapped the door closed behind himself. "See you in a few minutes."