xp_logs | I have faith in your ability to remain unfucked

Logan can't sleep. Ororo is being a giant hippie and mirroring her typist's taste in music. Suprisingly, ~~there is no smut~~ the smut all happens off-screen.

Ororo lies flat on her bed, staring up at the length of hand-dyed fabric that stretches from corner to corner of the ceiling. Wind from the open windows ripples under its length, making it billow and shift. Candle flames flicker in the wake of the wind, casting shifting shadows and illuminating the brightly colored silk from below. Incense drifts along the currents, scrawling fractal coils in the air. Her stereo is turned up all the way, drums, chimes, and female voices occasionally pouring out from under her door, just audible in the hall.

/She lived in limbo
Time showed no mercy
Until a man in grey gave her
Doses of a sweet poison./

The whole album has been on repeat for a few hours now.

Logan hesistates outside her door, wary of interrupting. He's been pacing his room, just next door, for at least an hour, simmering in his own strange mood and listening to Ororo's music through the wall. It's soothing, but he needs to not be alone. He considered going to Marie, but decided that she needs time to herself, probably. So he stands there, waiting to knock. Waiting. And finally does, lightly, almost too lightly to be heard.

She wouldn't have heard him, if she wasn't trying to keep a corner of her mind aware of such things -- she knows how loud the music is. "Sorry! I'll turn it down." The music shifts to Richard Shindell's "Fishing" almost abruptly, and she slides off the bed and pads over to the stereo.

He's shaking his head, outside the door, without realising she can't see him. That's not what he meant at all. The music was nice, if loud to his over-sensitive ears. He knocks again, quietly, and murmurs, "You don't need to do that; I was just coming to see if you wanted some company."
Well, since she's up...

The door opens a crack and she sticks her head out, then grins faintly.
"Oh. Logan. Hi. ... come on in." She leaves the door open and heads back towards the bed, curling up with her legs crossed under her body. "What's up?" That's not actually innuendo. She spent an hour or so after dinner catching up with school gossip and the journals. Including Sam's.

He moves just a few steps into the room, reaching for the door and watching Ororo to see if he should close it. "I don't mean to interrupt. I just." He shrugs. "Long week."

She nods that he should, then stretches out a little more on the bed. "You're not interrupting. I was just thinking, really." A very faint, only slightly bitter smile twitches at her mouth. "Yeah. I know that one. Are you all right?"

Click. The door closes and Logan stands there, not sure what to do now that he's in her room. He hasn't thought this far ahead. "I'll live. As always." He shrugs, frowning slightly.

She pats a spot on the bed next to her as a suggestion. "I'd wondered about that. A /bullet/ to the /head/? That's impressive."

He laughs quietly, only the faintest traces of bitterness lining the sound, and crawls up on the bed beside her. "Yeah. It happens. They tell me my healing factor's more advanced than most mutants with the same power." He shrugs one shoulder. "Comes in handy, though," he says, thinking of Marie, this afternoon.

She reaches out one hand, fingertips hovering just near the back of his neck, expression quizzical as she waits. "I see." Want to get scritched, Logan? It's about the only thing she can think of to do, since this is apparently not a conjugal visit. "... do you want to talk about it?"

Talk about it. Talk about what happened with Marie. Marie. Marie knows. Oh. "Um." He should tell her that. Instead, he stalls, arching slightly toward her fingers. "Whad'you wanna know?"

Her hand creeps closer and she obediently starts scritching. She can definitely tell a stall when she sees one, but doesn't pry. "Whatever you feeling like telling me. Are you /really/ all right?" The music switches tracks, becoming something vaguely archaic-sounding, several women singing in a largely unrecognizeable language, the drumming and chanting becoming more ritualistic as it continues on.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He shrugs one shoulder again. "Had a killer headache, earlier, but's gone now." He draws his knees up, resting his chin on one. "Marie and I had a heart-to-heart. Or, well, hand-to-cheek." He chuckles, but it's a dry, unhappy sound as he remembers the blood flowing down her face, down her chest.

"Ah. One of those." If the prospect disturbs her at all (and it doesn't), it doesn't show. She scoots a bit closer on the bed and stops the scritch to put both hands on his shoulders. "Logan. Talk to me." Her voice is very quiet when she says it, very soft, but somehow all the more compelling for it.

"She was hurt pretty badly. Not even close to fatal, but it would've scarred. So I fixed it for her." He looks over at Ororo. "But the part that you should know is that, in the process, like always, she got some of my memories."

Her hands pause in the middle of beginning a shoulder rub, as that sinks in. /Memories/, huh? Huh. "Ah. I see." There being not much else to say, she reaches out and just /hugs/ Logan from behind. Well, maybe /one/ more thing to say. "I'm sorry."

"I think maybe that's my line," he murmurs, leaning into the embrace. "I don't mind her knowing, but I should've thought of it before I touched her, should've thought about how you'd feel, with that sort of first-hand knowledge bouncing around in her head. I'm sorry."

One of her knees nudges him in the back. "Hey. How I feel is -- well. I like my privacy, and if it was anyone other than Marie..." She trails off, shrugs, and hugs tighter. "But as far as I'm concerned she's earned her Grown-Up Points, and this isn't something I'm going to hide from the other adults. Flaunt, no, but my sex life isn't really a /secret/, or anything."

Logan snorts. "Well, I doubt you were expecting to share it quite that...completely, with another person. But. Yeah." He turns his face toward hers. "I wasn't sure you'd react well. I mean, it's not like I /told/ her." Meeting her eyes, he continues. "She knows how it /feels/."

Oh. /Oh/. That actually gets a wince, but Ororo otherwise manages to hold up. "Ah. I... ah. Lovely. So, she's not -- hm." Brow furrowing, she falls silent as she tries to put her thoughts in a semblance of order. "I got the impression she had a bit of a crush on you." Understatement of the year, there.

Logan blinks, then shakes his head. "No. I mean. No." He frowns. "She." How to explain? It seems strange to use the word 'family' to anyone but Marie, but how else is he going to explain it. "We're family."

"Oh." She seems to be saying that an awful lot. "... good. She needs one. /You/ need one."

Logan chuckles. "I don't know about that. But I've got one, seems like." He looks at her carefully. "Nice of you to notice, I guess. Are you the next volunteer for the Save the Logan Foundation?" He chuckles again, the sarcasm good-natured.

She keeps her expression carefully schooled; the woman has a /wicked/ poker face when she wants to. "I don't know. Do you want me to be?"

He raises an eyebrow, still watching her carefully. "I don't know. I'm not sure I could deal with more...family, after having none for--" A pause, then, honestly, "I don't know how long."

She nods once, sharply, white hair flopping over across her face. "Which is Loganspeak for 'just the fucks, ma'am'." Her mouth twitches a bit. "Okay. About what I figured. That works for me." She pauses, then raps him once on the shoulder with the back of her fist. "However, I /also/ do charity work for the You Better Treat That Girl Right society."

Logan shakes his head, his brow wrinkling. "That's...not what I meant. I." He stops, thinking. "I just don't want to fuck this up. Any of it." He turns around to face her. "And...I plan to."

She doesn't pry; doesn't go into it, just lets him work out what needs to be worked out. Which, she's pretty sure, is going to take a few years. "Okay. Good. I have faith in your abilities to remain unfucked."

Logan raises an eyebrow. "Thanks."

Storm /coughs/, then laughs. "Not like /that/. You know what I mean."

[OOC note: After this, they pretty much just chat about entirely inconsequential things. And get each other off, but this is Storm and Logan, what do you expect? I'll have you all know that the working title for this log was 'incense_not_incest.txt', after a VERY wrong typo of mine. It also raised the prospect of smut involving Logan getting fucked up the ass by some guy he fought a cage match with. O_O]