Logan and Jean - Out For A Beer and a Game Of Pool

[x-wolverine.livejournal.com]

Logan finally nails Jean down with a time to go out and share a beer and maybe a game of pool. The conversation meanders a bit as old friends catch up, but there's some tension there that neither of them wants to deal with...



Logan had finally weaselled a date and time out of Jean to go shoot pool and drink some beer, and he had something of a dilemma on his hands. He stood in his bathroom, clad in naught but a towel wrapped around his waist, trying to decide how he wanted to handle things. His first inclination is to just be himself - denim and flannel, the usual sort of a thing. But this was _Jeannie_, and she might have unmade a decision she made a while back.

So was it worth it to try to clean up, be more like what she might have wanted him to be?

Snorting, he finished towelling himself off and looked at himself in the mirror. Whatever he was, whoever Logan was, he was what he was and changing himself to suit someone else wasn’t in his best interest. He dressed quickly, then headed downstairs to hop on his bike for the short ride to Harry’s.

Once there, he snagged a table, a prelim pitcher of beer, and some of Harry’s pray-for-death hot wings.

So far her return had not been met with much fanfare. She hadn’t expected any. Getting right back into the rhythm of things suited her best.

But then again, for those like Bobby Drake, it was anything but something within that rhythm.

She had agreed to meet with Logan as promised. A game of pool and some drinks sounded like a good way to unwind.

Entering Harry’s, she scanned the room for billowing cigar smoke. Though New York had a no smoking law, Logan was never much for rules.

“Evening,” she said. She wore a simple black tanktop, a pair of capris, and flipflops. Her hair was down and curled around her shoulders in waves .

Logan grinned as he spotted the redhead making her way through the Harry’s crowd. Without even being asked, Logan ground out his smoke in the ashtray (for a change!) and handed her her first pint of the evening. “Lookin’ good, Jeannie.” he said with a friendly smile. “Settlin’ in OK?” he asked as he polished off his own pint, enjoying the very brief moment of time where the alcohol burned its way down pleasantly before his body nullified it.

Jean laughed a little, shaking her head. He’d probably say she looked good even if she wore a clown costume. Though maybe not.

She slid into a chair, eying the glass of frothy, foamy joy with longing. Grabbing the drink, she took a long sip, finishing off the glass, concluded by a reflexive ‘ahh.’

“For the most part. Though there are interesting moments.”

“Aren’t there always?” he said, refilling his pint and waging war on his tastebuds with a suicide wing. One of the things he liked the best about Jeannie - other than the general physical package - is that she wasn’t shy about enjoying herself. That lusty little ahhh after her first sip of her beer sent electricity down all his nerves. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” he said wisely.

“Pretty much,” she mused, studying the bar patrons as they mingled. A wry smile crossed her lips.

“When it’s quiet is when I truly start to worry. It means what comes next is usually worse.”

“Guess so,” he said with an agreeable sort of a shrug. “Have a wing.” he suggested, taking another swallow of his beer. “Unless you want to rack ‘em up?” he suggested with a grin.

Jean eyed Logan suspiciously. “Are you trying to kill me?” she said, arching a brow.

“Because I’ll pretty much vow to come back and haunt your undying, hog-riding, cigar-smoking, self for all time if you do,” she said into her glass as she took another drink.

“And don’t think you’ll enjoy it.”

Her eyes flickered up. She slowly smiled. “Grab your cue.”

Logan had to laugh at that. “Dunno. Could be a hard life, spending all of it with a Jeannie-ghost getting all pissed off at me all the time.” he said, snagging another wing and chomping down on it, enjoying the chemical burn across his sensitive tongue.”Best not to risk it - I’d hate to have you complainin’ about a smoke or a beer or whatever else for all time.” he snickered. He grabbed a cue from Harry’s collection of more-or-less straight ones and absently spun it in his grip before it snapped into place along his shoulder. “You want to break first?” he asked.

“Careful,” Jean said as she slipped out of her seat, walking toward an empty pool table.

“That eternal haunting might turn into a present haunting,” she said, grinning. She grabbed a pool cue, then nodded to his question.

“Sure, why not?”

She leaned forward, a hint of green and black lace peeking out from under her shirt as she readied the tip of her pool cue toward the cue ball. The pool cue slammed the white cueball into the other balls, causing them to explode in all directions.

Logan sat back and watched her break, a decent explosion across the felt. She sank a solid or two on her break, and he grinned at her appreciatively and drank the rest of his beer as she worked the table. As soon as she screwed a shot up - if she screwed up - he’d get his chance to show her how it was all done.

Jean was no amateur. She worked the table effortlessly. Each ball she hit went into the appropriate pocket with a satisfying thud. Though a couple appeared to have a little more oomph and distance than they should.

“Hey now.” Logan said reproachfully. “Quit cheating.” he commented as he munched another wing, then paused to blow his nose. Nice thing about the suicide wings, they cleaned out the sinuses nicely. He wasn’t, however, about to tell her anything at all about her propensity to show off the girls while bending low to take her shot.

Nope. Not one word. Too nice to interfere with and she knew damned well she was doing it.

Glancing up at him, Jean blinked up at him as she sat up, leaning against the table.

“What? I am not ,” she said, her mouth falling agape indignantly before she flashed him a mischievous grin. Relenting, she shrugged.

“Okay, maybe a little.”

She nodded to the table. “You say you’re the best at what you do. Well, prove it,” she said.

“Damned shame when a pretty girl has to resort to cheating at pool.” he told her with a grin as he lined up his shots. There must have been a sudden gust of gravity - or a mischievous telekinetic - as his second-to-last shot went astray, only grazing the pocket instead of sinking the ball into it. “Well, fuck me hard.” he said with a shrug, returning to his beer and his suicide wings.

“Sure I can’t getcha somethin’ to eat?” he asked her.

Jean studied the bar at large. “It’s only a shame to the losing party,” she said.

She smirked at the colorful outburst in reaction to his mishap, shaking her head. “Whoops.”

“Garrison and I came here a few days ago. I think I’ve had my quota on bar food for awhile. Harry pretty much used the entire jar of peppers on my habanero burger. I like a little heat but when my tongue threatens to drop off and run for asylum is when I draw the line. I will take another beer, though, thanks,” she said.

“Suit yerself.” he said, pouring her another beer from the about-to-hit-the-dregs pitcher. This was unacceptable, so he flagged down a barmaid and ordered them another. He also ordered himself one of those burgers, extra hot, extra rare. Ferals, especially those with healing factors, loved their protein.

“Gar.” he said with a grin. “Good man.” he added.

Jean nodded, taking a drink from her refill. The one drink resulted in finishing off the glass.

“That he is,” she said, setting down the mug.

“I heard a little bit about Adrienne. And by a little I mean not that much at all. Just enough to know she’s not around anymore. Has to be hard,” she said. He seemed to be taking it well, though. It was all about time, she supposed.

Glancing around the bar again, Jean watched the crowd. Most were wrapped up in their own business, oblivious to the world around them. Bars were generally a place to escape, and they did their jobs well.

“So,” she said, looking back to him with a smile. “Tell me this great story I’m supposed to hear once the both of us were in the presence of beer. It is flowing rather copiously and I once again except a certain wow-factor being that you used the word ‘great,’” she said.

“What’s this about kids?”

“Yeah. ‘Bout that.” he said, clearing his throat. “Turns out one of the fine, fine doctors from WEAPON decided to take herself a little souvenir.” he said with a growl. “Nine months later, she’s got herself a little feral bundle of joy.” he said. “Then she shows up here, just as bubbly as you please.”

What smile Jean had left on her face quickly faded. Her mind flashed with all too fresh feeling memories of Taygetos. The dead look in the children’s eyes. But, he mentioned a contradiction...not something she expected to hear in the same context as Weapon X.

“Bubbly?” she repeated with some healthy amount of skepticism.

“Bubbly.” he repeated. “She’s a goddamned cheerleader, can you believe that shit?” he said with a laugh. “Little house in the ‘burbs, normal life, all that.” he said, not without just a trace of envy. “Doesn’t look like she’s got it in her like I do.” he said. “Got my powers, too, near as anyone can tell. She heals, got bone-claws in her hands and her feet.” he said.

A hint of a smile formed on Jean’s lips as she shook her head. “You’re right, I can’t believe it,” she said. It was all she would show while she processed what he was saying.

The smile disappeared as she focused back on her thoughts at hand. “How is that possible?”

It all seemed perfect, and pleasant, and unblemished by Weapon X, save for Logan’s inadvertent hand in her creation. She would admit she was somewhat reserved.

“Fuck if I know. You’re the MD, maybe you should fly out to San Fran and interrogate her.” he said grimly. “Do it myself, but I don’t know what questions to ask.” he said, his knuckles white against his pool cue. “‘Apparently, she worked for Stryker.”

Jean fell silent a moment. The name provoked a flurry of emotions within her: rage, disgust, fear. He was the catalyst for so much pain, for so many people. She had slowly learned to confront her feelings, not let them affect her as much as they would’ve in the past.

But it didn’t mean if he somehow turned up alive she wouldn’t break his nose in a few places.

She smiled faintly. “I know how genetics work. I meant how she wound up turning into she who spells words with pompoms, worrying about her tan rather than recon tactics and the best way to kill a man unnoticed,” she said. She nodded again.

“I would like to talk to her, though. Sounds like a good idea.”

He just shrugged. Having no memory of his life before Heather and Mac Hudson meant he really had no idea about his formative years. “Maybe things are just better now than they were then.” he offered with a shrug. “Kid’s not a killer.” he said flatly. “Pretty sure that’s the way kids’re supposed to be.” he added around a swallow of beer.

“Maybe,” she echoed with a soft smile. Here’s to optimism. May you be right this time.

“I’m glad to hear it.” She looked down in her drink, which had been refilled, watching the bubbles float up to the surface.

“What’s her name?” she said. All the talk and she didn’t remember him actually telling her.

“Laura.” he said. “Laura Kinney.”

“Mmm,” Jean said, nodding. She slowly looked up at him.

“You do realize I am imagining you in a dress right now, don’t you?”

“Again.”

“You just had to remind me, didn’t you?” Logan said, avoiding an epic facepalm by the simple expedient method of having a beer in one hand and his cue in the other. He, of course, was trying to imagine her not in a dress - or anything else, for that matter - but his brain was a treacherous thing sometimes. A very good thing his wasn’t very easily read.

“Kid’s second only to Monet and maybe ‘Ro for sheer number of shoes owned.” he mock-grumbled. “Guess that makes sense, given the foot-claw...” he mused.

Jean smirked. “I only wish I would’ve taken pictures.” Some might’ve but she hadn’t. Perhaps being a bit preoccupied with more important matters. Ah, hindsight.

“She has a foot claw?” she asked, blinking with sudden interest.

“Hmmm. Very intriguing.”

“Yeah. About the same size as the ones that come out of her hands, but it ejects along the line of her foot.” he said. “Weird, but I can see the usefulness. So, while we’re talkin’ about feet, what the hell is up with the shoe thing?” he asked.

Jean’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling thoughtfully. “My initial thought is to lend the hypothesis to gender being a factor in the emergence of this trait. You didn’t have a foot claw during the swap, however. Which leads me to believe perhaps the manifestation of her mutation is slightly different than yours,” she said.

Glancing back down, she shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Doctor mode. As for shoes...well...they are one of the ways we control inferior members of the other species,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Easier to keep a few boxes in our closet than Ferrari's.”

“Right.” he said skeptically. He still remembered a mad hunt for one of Ororo’s shoes that nearly took days to clear out of his nose. He was, however, in too good a mood to begrudge her and her kind their secrets.

Jean grinning, readying her pool cue for the next shot. “When you look at a woman, the first thing you usually look at is the body, right? Automatic male response. You see the whole package. And we know this. We know the difference between a phone number and a night alone can depend on what we wear,” she said, striking the cue.

“Which is better, a pair of red stilettos or a set of clogs? Most would say nothing at all but in the beginning they’re still looking at the package,” she said, watching one of the balls as it came to a rest in the corner pocket.

“That and we like variety. Pretty colors. Things that make us feel good about ourselves.”

“Actually, first thing I usually get is scent, if I can.” he admitted. “But yeah, I hear ya.” Mmm, and what a package. Brains and passion both, not to mention bein’ real easy on the eyes. He chastized himself, reminding himself of what reality was for just a moment. “Gettin’ a little soft, Jeannie.” he said teasingly. “You forgoin’ your workout in favor of staring at slides or something?” he teased.

Jean cocked her head to the side. When it was clear no one was watching, one of the cue balls flew off the table, aiming straight for his forehead.

“Such a charmer.”

He got a hand up to catch the cue before it shattered against his skull. “Be good for you to get outta the lab, work up an honest sweat.” he told her, handing her the cue back. “Be happy to work out with you, any time you like.” he said.

She set the cue down on the table. “Been working an honest sweat already. DR runs, every couple of nights. And for future reference, insulting someone is not quite the best way to get someone to do something with you,” she said, walking over to the table to grab her beer.

“Not insulting you.” he said. “Offering you a challenge.” he added with a grin, grabbing his own beer. “C’mon, Jeannie, it’ll be good. Brush up on your hand to hand, even.” he offered. “Never know when learnin’ how to hurt someone without using your powers might come in real handy.” he pointed out.

Jean took a drink of her beer, downing the rest of her full glass in two quick gulps before slamming the glass down on the table.

“Been doing that already too,” she said, leaning against the pool table.

“Apologize. Maybe I’ll consider it.”

“For what?” he protested. “And whoever you’ve been training with, I’m better. You know it. I know it.” he taunted. “C’mon, Red. Run with me.” he said imploringly.

She knew she taking something trivial and twisting it entirely out of proportion. But at the moment, too much alcohol and an empty stomach was making her not really care and helping things along, for the worst.

“You...know what,” she said.

She shrugged. “Nevermind,” she said. A word that was always a falsity.

The way he spoke, not about what he said before, but how he said it now. Run with him. The subtext of it was a bit too much at the moment.

“I need to go,” she said, walking over to the pool cue rack to put the stick up before turning to head for the door.

“Aw, c’mon Jeannie...” he said, then let his mouth shut.

Women.

Jean slipped through the crowd, pushing open the doors as she walked outside. The night air was hot and thick, the moon shining brightly overhead. Shaking her head, Jean closed her eyes, running her fingers through her hair as she walked up the street a bit, trying to clear her mind, shake the buzz off.

She replayed what transpired, thinking over how she’d reacted, and let out a mirthless laugh.

Then, her eyes narrowed.

Logan, for his part, just blinked as he watched her storm out of Harry’s. “Huh.” he said intelligently, then reached for his beer to slam down the last of it. “Women.” he said, as if explained everything. Suddenly, the pool and the beer and the wings held very little appeal and Logan re-racked everything back up and went to go settle up the bill.

The door to the bar slammed back open and Jean stepped in, eyes practically a lit with anger as she walked toward the unassuming Logan.

“And for the record? I am still married,” she said, holding up her ring finger, complete with ring, in a way that made it almost like the middle one.

“So when you make passes...when you look at me with those...those...animal...eyes... it’s hard to think. So just...just back off, okay?” she said.

“And don’t call me fat again or I will crack your skull open.”

The storm of barley and hops seemed to have mixed with the fire within and made for a volatile combination with the right spark.

Logan paused mid-bite of his burger. “You’re not fat.” he reassured her flatly, then took a bite of his burger. “Take a look.” he said, tapping a finger against his forehead. As for the rest, he left that uncommented-on.

For now.

Hard to think, huh? Well. That was interesting.

“What were the words? Oh right...’Gettin a little soft, Jeannie?’” Jean said, eyes still narrowed, jaw set.

“You did do one thing right though. It did make me want to kick your ass.”

She cocked her head to the side when he tapped his forehead. “Not. Here,” she said, if he meant what she thought he meant.

“Suit yerself.” he said, taking another bite of his burger. Mmm, spicy and meaty. He had to wonder if she ever wondered about what she looked like through another man’s eyes.

He also gestured to the seat across the table from his. Hers if she wanted it, no offense taken if she didn’t.

Jean eyed Logan a moment, then plopped down in the seat with a grunt, curls of red hair sloppily falling in her eyes as she folded her arms for a moment or two before brushing the curls away.

“What do you want me to see anyway?” Cut to the chase. She didn’t want to go in there and find a never ending issue of Playboy.

He was male, so the never-ending issue of Playboy would always be there. Most just shoved it aside, buried it until the time was right to let it out. “Just wonderin’ if you ever were curious about how you looked through someone else’s eyes.” he said.

Jean just stared at him, silent for a few long moments before she spoke.

“It won’t...change anything. It can’t,” she said softly.

Logan nodded at that. “I hear ya, darlin’. You made a choice.” he said simply. “I can respect that.” he said, lying through his goddamned teeth. He wanted to respect it. Thought he should respect it. Had come to terms with it, or so he thought.

He hated it.

Jean’s eyes lowered as she picked up a packet of sugar from one of the tables, turning it over in her hands.

“You’re lying,” she said, slowly looking up to him. Her inhibitions were too lowered to dance around the implied and better left unspoken.

“I’m sorry.”