The Twist Inside: Part One

by Allykat

Jubilee left her fancy red sportscar parked out in the front of the mansion. The tres cool convertible was a college present from Logan: surrogate brother, father, best friend... and something else. But she wasn't too certain about what that something else was yet. She was still working on it, figuring it out, and deciding what she should do about it… if she should do anything.

The spring day was perfect, the air was clear and warm and a breeze sifted through her hair. She'd been growing it long and it hung down her back in a loose French braid. Her friends at the sorority had transformed her from a gawky teenage mallrat into a sophisticated young woman... at least on the outside, she amended. Her step was light and her silky purple mini dress moved against her legs as she walked into the mansion. She escaped from college and her well-meaning, but sometimes cloying friends, for the weekend and she was looking forward to spending time with her favorite person. He didn't know she was coming.

Remy walked down the staircase just as she entered the foyer. He wore a pair of sneakers, cut-off shorts and a New York giants t-shirt. On the tip of one finger he spun a basketball.

"Hello, Remy," she chimed, stood on tip-toe and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"'Ello, petite. You are looking nice."

"Thank you," she replied with a smile and wondered at Remy's appraising expression. "Where is Logan?"

"Out back near the garage wid one of his few loves," Remy replied. Jubilee couldn't tell if the cajun was joking or serious.

Jubilee wasn't going to let anything spoil this day. Wolvie was hers and she didn't share. "I'm just going to have to tell her to leave. I drove all the way up to see Logan and no floozy is going to spoil it."

"I don't think your going to send dis love packin'," Remy called.

And he was right.

At the rear of the mansion outside the garages, Jubilee found Logan working on his Harley. He wore jeans and a once-white tank top now smeared with grease. A few parts from his scoot were scattered around on a greasy drop cloth. She stayed out of his line of sight and watched him for a moment. He always looked hot in tank tops and jeans and, as her friends in college told her after meeting him, he had a killer body. He'd caused quite a stir the day he came to see her, riding up on his Harley looking both dangerous and desirable. Her friends didn't stop pestering her about him for weeks after, wondering what exactly their relationship was. Their relationship was not easy to define and although he'd played many roles in her life, a lover was not one of those. Her friends did not believe the truth, as simple as she had tried to make it. She'd never told Wolvie about her friends questions; she was still unsure about how to address them herself.

The wind blew towards her, so she knew he couldn't catch her scent and she used the advantage to watch him. He popped a claw, placed a cloth strip on the tip and used it to clean the grease out of a cylindrical motorcycle part. He held the part up to the light, grumbled something then retracted the claw.   A surge of warm affection filled her and she hugged herself.  She wanted to throw herself on him and hug on him instead, but he'd never go for that. A very large loner streak vied for dominance with a stubborn streak that would shame a mule. She watched the muscles of his arm bunch as he worked a tool. The tool slipped and he raked his knuckles, leaving a bleeding red gash on his hand. Logan had a mutant healing factor, but he didn't have a pain dampening factor.

"Son of a whore mongering...." He trailed off at the sight of Jubilee walking across the lawn toward him.

Jubilee stopped in front of him, raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. "Son of a whore mongering what?"

"Just you never mind, and watch yer mouth," he growled. His gaze flicked over her, then he glared at the gash but it had healed. "What 'cho doing here?"

"I haven't seen you in three months that's all I'm going to get?" She raised her arms then let them fall back to her sides. She felt a rush of disappointment, but she kept it out of her voice. "I have to admit I was expecting a different greeting, like, 'Hey Jubes, great to see you!'" She sat down on the grass, crossed her legs out in front of her and braced her arms behind her. "I'm visiting for the weekend."

"That so?" His attention was wholly focused on the motorcycle. "You've been doing well at school, darlin. Your political science professors have been singin' praises. I'm proud o' ya."

Jubilee flushed at the compliment. Logan didn't give them out often. "Thanks, but I didn't come to talk about school."

"That so," he said absently, and frowned at a greasy part he held between two fingers. He popped a claw again and used the rag on the claw to clean the part.

"That's the second time you've said that. You're being downright loquacious today." He scowled at her for that and she gave him her sweetest smile. "I've come to tell you that I've decided you need a birthday party."

"Tell me...! Decided....?" he stuttered then jerked towards her, his brows pulled together. "A flamin' what!"

At least she had his complete attention now. "You know, a birthday party. Cake, balloons, presents in bright bows, pin the tail on the donkey. Any of that, like, sound familiar?"

"Darlin', how in the flamin' hell can I have a birthday party if I don't even know my birth date."

"A technicality," Jubilee replied and shrugged. "I think one of the reasons that you've been stalking around like a badger with a toothache is because you need to have some fun."

"I go ta' the Auger Inn or Hardcase's place if I want some fun," he grumbled. "And I ain't been stalking around like..." he grunted, "like whatever it was ya' said."

"A badger with a toothache. That's what Rogue told me." Jubilee snorted. "And, you may not know this, but kicking butt is not the only way to have a good time."

"Tell me it ain't so." This time there was a hint of a smile on his mouth.

She leaned over on her knees and punched him in the arm. "Ow!" She shook her hand. "That hurt!"

"Never hit a man with adamantium-laced bones." He continued to work on the Harley. "Now where'd ya get the hare-brained idea o' givin' me a party."

"It's not hare-brained. I just that that... since... well, since there's some aspects of your life that you don't uh…."

"Remember?" Logan inserted. "You don't have to pussy foot around, darlin'. Like I've said before, I ain't got clue one about parts o' my life. Sometimes a stray memory will pop into my head and I have no idea if it's real or not."

"Well, then, that's a good reason to give you a real party. It'll be one that you can't forget. Then I'll know when you wish you happy birthday."

"Well, that's nice o' ya', darlin', but I ain't much o' a birthday boy." He reached blindly for a tool behind him. "Hand me the ratchet, will ya'?"

Jubilee looked at the array of tools on the drop cloth. "Uh. Hmm. Here, I think." She slapped it into his hand.

"This is a wrench." Logan handed it back to her. "The ratchet is right here." He grabbed the tool.

"Wolvie, how am I supposed to know what a ratchet looks like? I'm an ex-mall rat, not a grease monkey."

Logan finally looked back at her. She couldn't decipher the strange look on his face. "Ya' callin' me a grease monkey?"

"If the ratchet fits," she replied. "Ahh!" she screeched as Logan got up and stalked toward her. She scrambled backward in the grass and held up one hand. "Don't you come near me with those greasy paws! This... this dress is silk. Don't touch me." Fireworks sparkled from her fingertips but that didn't deter him.

"We'll see who the grease monkey is now, darlin'," he growled, and grabbed her ankle and pulled her toward him.

"Wolvie!" Jubilee screeched and pushed at his chest as he crawled over her. "You big oaf!" she cried, laughed and beat at his shoulders with her fists, not that it did much to stop him. The guy had to weigh close to two hundred pounds more than she did.

Logan loomed above her, his weight on both knees. With one large hand, he pinned her wrists over her head to the ground and swiped a finger across both cheeks and down her nose. He tilted his head, regarded her for a moment, then swiped a finger in some grease on his shirt and put it right in the middle of her chin.

"I think this makes ya' my assistant grease monkey."

"Wolvie! Oooooo!" Jubilee screeched, struggled and kicked the ground. Sparklers flashed from her fingers, but with him pinning her wrists she couldn't direct her fireworks effectively, and he knew it. "You... you meanie!"

"Meanie?" When Logan began laughing, it was almost enough to make Jubilee forget her indignation. Logan laughing? Not just a chuckle, but real honest to goodness laughter. Catching him in a weak moment, she pushed him off and he rolled to the ground, holding his sides, his whole body shaking.

"Oh, so you think wiping your dirty grease on me is funny!"

"Yeah, darlin', you should see your face. When did ya' start gettin' all prissy on yer ole' Canucklehead?"

"I'm. Not. Prissy!" Jumping on him and straddling him, she pummeled him with her fists; not that it did any good. The guy was like a rock. He didn't try to fight back, just curled up, held his arms over his head and laughed. "Apologize," she demanded. "Tell me you're sorry and take it back."

"No," came Logan's muffled response.

Jubilee dug her fingers into his sides and tickled him. "Say uncle, Wolvie. Say it!"

"No!" he howled. "Never uncle."

"I knew you'd say that, it's just like you to be stubborn to the end." She leaned down and grabbed his ear lob between her teeth. "Thay ooncle. Thay it!"

Logan drew a huge, quick breath then rose up so suddenly that she sprawled backwards into the grass.

"Hey! You could have given me some warning," she said, brushing at her dress. "I think I have grass stains on my dress, now."

He walked away a few steps and stood with his back to her, hands clenched against his thighs, his laughter gone.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head, looked over his shoulder at her and took a deep breath. "Nothing, darlin'. It's nothing. Go ahead and plan yer party. I'll be there."

"Tres cool!" she responded and jumped up. "I promise it'll be fun."

"And do something about that grease on your face." Logan was chuckling again. Whatever his problem was he seemed to have gotten over it. He faced her and crossed his arms.

"Oh, yeah? And here's your stupid racket." Jubilee reached down, grabbed the tool and tossed it at his head. He ducked and she stuck out her tongue.

"It's a ratchet." A dangerous, but teasing expression crossed his features. "And that wasn't nice."

"It wasn't meant to be. Not that it would ever hurt your hard head if it ever connected." She walked up to him and threw her arms around his neck. "You big lug. You don't scare me." She sighed. "I've missed you, Wolvie. College is nice, but you're not there," she mumbled into his neck, and ran a hand down his hair. She tried to date a few boys, but she inevitably compared them to Logan, and there was no one on earth who could compare to this hairy guy. They had been through so much together. Logan hesitated, then returned her hug, holding her tight. Jubilee sighed again, contented, and burrowed her face into his shoulder.

"I've missed you, too, kiddo," he finally replied. He released her and she stepped back and gave him her best smile.

"I promise it'll be a good party."

"Better have a keg or two.... or three." He paused. "Better make that three."

"Don't worry," she replied, picked up his hand and squeezed it. "I'll take care of it, and I'm going to start on it right now." She winked and sauntered away, putting an extra sway into her hips. She didn't know why she did it, but at least he was noticing, and she was keenly aware of his gaze all the way up to the mansion.

* * *

Jubilee had notepaper and invitations spread across the kitchen table. "Hmm. Two weeks should be a long enough notice for invitations. I'll make it an evening party with dinner, say around 6 in the evening with a BBQ. Informal is more Wolvie's style. And there should be a band, and some dancing." She grabbed the telephone book lying near her elbow.

"Did someone say dancin'?" said a familiar voice. "Ah like dancin'"

Jubilee looked up. "Oh hey, Rogue."

"What ya' doing, sugah? I thought that was ya' cah parked out 'n front."

"I came down to visit. I'm planning a birthday party for the Wolvster." She turned to the 'p' page in the phonebook and ran her finger down the listings for party supplies. "We're going to have cake, a band, some dancing. And Wolvie is going to have fun whether he likes it or not."

"A party fa' Logan?" Rogue's brows climbed up to her hairline. She sat down and picked up one of the invitations. "Does he know about this?"

"Yep. I already told him that he's going to have it."

"You told him?"

"Is there an echo in here," Jubilee teased. "The big lug doesn't have a choice, and you told me on the phone that he's been grumpy."

"It's been quiet, so ah figured it was because he hasn't been thumping any heads togetha' lately. "

"Funny, 'cause that's almost what he said," she replied without looking up. "I don't think the band should be rock and roll--that's not Wolvie's style. He likes that country western stuff. Will you teach me to two step, Rogue?" She looked up and found Rogue staring at her. "What?"

"I'll teach ya' to two step, honey, but did you know you have dirt on yer face?" Rogue licked her glove-encased thumb and leaned forward.

"Yuck!" Jubilee cringed, held a notebook up in front of her face and peered around it. She'd forgotten that Logan had rubbed grease on her face. "Don't you dare!"

"Dare what?" Jean said as she and Scott walked into the kitchen. They were both sweaty from a session in the danger room. One aspect of being an X-Man that Jubilee did not miss; she hated the danger room. Scott grabbed a banana from a decorative fruit bowl and leaned against the kitchen counter to peel it.

"Jubilee is throwing Logan ah birthday party," Rogue replied.

"But the man doesn't even know his own parents, let alone how old he is," Scott said around a bite of banana. "And besides that, what does he think about this party?"

"He was his usual recalcitrant self at first, but he relented." Jubilee found Jean and Scott staring at her. "You guys don't think it's a good idea?"

"No, it'll be fun and good for Logan, but you have dirt on your face," Jean said, licking her thumb and reaching for Jubilee.

Jubilee covered her arms over her head and ducked. "When did everyone decide that they're my mother?"

They all looked up at the sound of a Harley-Davidson engine amplified by drag pipes. The engine revved loudly a few more times before it settled down to its usual distinctive rumble. Jubilee's first instinct was to run out to make sure Logan wasn't going to ride off and leave her behind, but maybe it would be nice to have him away from the mansion for the rest of the afternoon while she learned a few new tricks.

* * * *

"I have a good team of men lined up, but..." the silver-haired bartender known as Hardcase, shrugged, "I just don't have the man to lead them."  The bar that shared the same name as its owner was a front for mercenaries.  Hardcase put together mercenary teams for a variety of covert military jobs in a variety of countries for as many reasons; they choose no sides. Hardcase's was one of Logan more favorite hangouts depending on his mood. And this evening, he was in a mood.

"Good mercs are a dyin' breed." Logan finished off his beer and lit a cigar. He took a long drag and sat it down in an ashtray. "Why don't ya lead them yerself?"

"Never thought I'd say this, but I'm gettin' too old."

"Day I get too old to kick some ass is the day ya' gotta bury me six feet under." Logan rapped the bar with his knuckles. "Line up a half dozen more o' them whisky shots. Don't bother with the beer this time, it's dilutin' my buzz." Hardcase raised one inquiring eyebrow and Logan growled. "Ya' cen keep yer thoughts to yerself."

"Might help talking to someone." Hardcase reached for the half empty bottle of whiskey. "You know I'm always up for a good tale of woe."

"Yeah, yeah," Logan said and watched the man pour a row of six whisky shots. The bottle had been full when he had started twenty minutes ago. "This ain't no case o' woe."

"Why don't you just slug it from the bottle, friend," Hardcase said and plunked the bottle on the bar.

"Temptin'," Logan replied, and without drawing a breath downed the whisky in the shot glasses. He belched then thumped his chest with a fist. "Burns all the way down," he said on a cough, his voice hoarse.

"That'd kill a lesser man," Hardcase commented, his voice half serious, half teasing.

"It ain't the whisky or the cigar's that're gonna be the end o' me," Logan replied and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "Line 'em up again."

"These are on me if you tell what's eatin' you."

"Ain't none o' yer business, old man."

Hardcase squinted into Logan's face. "Guilt." He nodded. "It's a woman." He poured the rest of the whisky into the shot glasses and held the empty bottle up to the light. "Give up, you won't win."

Logan growled a warning, not that he expected it would shut Hardcase up. A fist in the bartender's mouth might work, but he wouldn't do that to a man pouring his whisky. "Shud-up, and get another bottle o' whisky over here, pronto." If he drank fast enough, his healing factor wouldn't be able to keep up and that's what he wanted. Logan wanted to be numb.

"She must be married," Hardcase said, raked a key across the empty whisky bottle label and tossed it into a bin and took an unopened bottle from the rack behind him. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here drownin' your sorrows."

"She ain't married. Might be better if she was."

"So it is a woman," Hardcase said smugly. "Knew it."

Logan's hands clenched on the bar top and he stared straight a head. "Yer job is shut yer mouth and keep pouring. I don't wanna see the bottom o' these glasses."

Hardcase popped open the whisky bottle and refilled the shot glasses. "You know, Judy over there would be happy to take your mind off whoever it is."

Judy was a buxom blonde waitress who worked tables for Hardcase. On more then one occasion she'd made it plain that she was available whenever Logan was willing. Judy was a nice gal and single-mom working two jobs. Logan wasn't inclined to take advantage of her. "Judy deserves more than a one night stand."

"Then get a grip, man," Hardcase said and braced both hands on the bar. "Just tell this gal how you feel and get on with life."

"She's young." He drank down two of the whisky shots.

The retired mercenary laughed. "As long as she's legal I don't see why is that is a problem. Might even be a plus."

Logan reached across the bar and grabbed Hardcase's shirt and pulled his face inches from his own. "She's decent." Logan let the man go, took a drag on the cigar and squinted through the smoke. "And she's too good fer me." He drank down two more whisky shots.

Hardcase whistled and straightened his shirt. "This is worse than I thought."

"Damn right," Logan said and stared fuzzily at the remaining shot glasses, then finished them off. Those last six were doing the trick. "It's easier to think o' her when I'm flamin' drunk out o' my mind. I'm too old fer her. I've seen too many things. Have too much blood on my hands. Done too many things that I ain't proud of. She's just startin' out, she has her college friends and there's a world o' experience for her ta' discover." Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel his healing factor struggling to keep up with the alcohol. He wasn't going to let it. He opened his eyes. His vision was still too steady. Had to fix that. "Whenever she comes around, she tortures the flamin' hell out 'o me, huggin' n' kissin' on me. Teasin' me n' givin' me these looks, getting' me all twisted up inside." He rapped his knuckles on the bar. "Don't stop know."

Hardcase complied and Logan downed six more shots. "So the gal likes you back?"

"Yeah, she thinks she does." Those last six shots did the trick this time. The room spun and he braced a hand on the bar counter for support. "Problem is that she's too young to really know what she wants. As long as I'm around, she's jus' gonna keep comin' back ta' me." He tried to focus unsteadily on Hardcase and saw three of the old geezer instead of one. He pointed to the whisky bottle. "Keep goin'. I'm jus' gettin' ta' the point where the hurtin's numbed."

"You know I could cut you off," Hardcase said. He poured six more shots.

Logan stared at the man for a moment, then made a fist and lifted a middle finger.

* * * *

Later that evening, Jubilee and Rogue met in the mansion's huge front room. Logan was still out on his scoot probably at one of his favorite sleazy biker bars. Normally Jubilee might have complained that he took off during one of her rare visits, but for now she wanted him out of the house. She didn't want him witnessing her feeble, inept attempt at learning cowboy dancing. ‘Dances with two left feet' Logan would call her.

"So you think Logan two-steps, right? I mean," she twisted her hands together, "I'd like to dance with him on his birthday and not look like a total lame-o."

"Sugah, one of the biggest rodeos, the Calgary Stampede, is in Canada. Ifn' yer a cowboy, ya' know the two-step. Logan ain't exactly a cowboy, but he is Canadian so ah guarantee ya' that he knows how ta' kicker dance."

"Kicker dance?" Jubilee asked.

"Two-step. Kicker dance. All the same." Rogue selected a CD and put it in the player. A snazzy country western song filled the room.

"What's this?" Jubilee asked, tapping one toe. "Uh, it's not my usual style, but I like it."

"What's not to like about Brooks and Dunn, sugah. This song is called the Boot Scootin' Boogie." Rogue slipped on a pair of gloves and approached Jubilee. " I'll be the guy, so I lead. Place yer hand up here in mine and I'll place my hand on yer waist, like so."

Jubilee flapped her remaining hand. "What do I do with this?"

Rogue lifted an eyebrow then took the hand and guided it to her shoulder. "Really sugah."

Jubilee licked her lips. "You know I've just kinda free danced to like rock n' roll and stuff."

"Relax. Anyone can do the two step. Now ya' follow me. Move yer feet like this and that's all there is to it. It ain't called the two step for nothin'. Relax your shoulders. Heal toe doesy doe. Get down, turn around, go to town, boot scootin' boogie," she sang with a smile. "Ah, I haven't danced like this in a long time."

Jubilee watched Rogue's feet, letting the rhythm dictate the beat of her steps. "Hey, this is fun!"

"Darn right." Rogue smiled. "You a natural, sugah. Now I'm gonna make it more complicated an' add a few steps. My hand here on your waist will cue you when to move forwards, backwards or around. Very good. Why don't we try a spin? Stay with the beat." Rogue picked up Jubilee's hand and without breaking step, spun her around. "Very good!" she praised and they both laughed. "Now pick up the two step, one two, one two. See there ya' go. Hear comes another spin, and again pick right back up on the two step. Forward two steps, backwards five. One two one two." Rogue laughed. "Yah' got it. Let's put some variation into it an' move around the room. Yer gonna be dancin' with Logan like a pro."

"You havin' a party without us, cherie?" Remy said from the doorway. He sauntered into the room and held his hand out to Rogue. Behind him Betsy and Hank peered in. "Mind if I cut in?"

"You moving in on my date?" Jubilee teased and stepped aside. Remy took Rogue's hand and placed another hand on her hip.

"Sorry, petite." To show that he really wasn't, Remy cast her that flirtatious cajun smile and a wink. Jubilee rolled her eyes.

"We heard the music," Betsy said to no one in particular. She looked over at Hank. "It's not like we hear country western music often around here. Want to try?"

Hank bowed and held out his hand. "I would be honored if you would dance with me."

Betsy raised her eyebrows, smiled and placed her hand in his furry blue one. There might be something going on there, but Jubilee didn't want to speculate, she had enough of her own relationship problems to worry about someone else's. She sighed heavily and watched Rogue and Remy dance. They certainly knew how to, Jubilee thought. Not content to just sit and watch, she positioned herself beside Remy and Rogue and tried to mimic their steps. It was hard without a partner. She supposed she could go find another partner. Maybe Forge or Bishop would be willing. Naw, she couldn't imagine either of those guys two-stepping.

"One, two, one two," she counted under her breath. "Heel toe dosey doe. Turn around, forward, backwards. Another spin," she said under her breath, never taking her eyes off them. She held a hand over her head as if her imaginary partner held it. "Two more spins.... Ack!"

Someone grabbed her hand and spun her around in time to the music, pulled her in against a rock hard chest then placed a hand on her hip. "Looks like I've been missin' all the fun. Didn't know you could two step, kiddo," Logan said.

Jubilee stumbled. "Logan! I'm, uh... just learning so slow down and don't pull anything fancy. I thought you were on your scoot."

"Was," he replied. "Went to Hardcase's for a couple o' drinks, but I figured something was goin' on when ya' didn't pester me to tag along."

He almost sounded offended that she hadn't pestered him, or maybe that was wishful thinking on her part. Their last outing together was quite an adventure, one that she wasn't willing to repeat just yet, as much as she liked going out with Logan. [Author note: See "Tagging Along with Wolvie"] "Oh, oh. I think I'm getting predictable," Jubilee responded after a brief silence that was more uncomfortable than she wanted to admit. Something was going on with Logan, she could sense it, but she couldn't name it. Was it uncertainty? She rejected that. When was Logan ever uncertain?

Logan gave her an unreadable look. "I don't think so. Jus' when I think I got ya' figured out, ya' do something ta' throw me off. And ya' jus' stepped on my foot."

"Opps!" Jubilee stumbled against him. He righted her with a quick hand on her arm. She wrinkled up her nose. "You smell like you took a dip in whisky lake."

"Ain't surprisin' considering that I drank all the whisky out o' Hardcase's place."

Jubilee studied his face. Something was bothering him though he was doing his best not to let it show. "Is there a problem?"

"You could say that, darlin'," he replied. Judging by the stubborn set of his jaw, Jubilee knew she wasn't going to elaborate. The guy could give mule lessons in stubborn.

"I think Logan's doing a passable job of dancing," Rogue said, punctuating that with a wink as she and Remy danced by. Logan was as skilled as either Rogue or Remy.

"Rogue was teaching me when Remy cut in," Jubilee explained.

"Well, darlin', the ole' canucklehead'll teach ya'. Just relax and put your hand on my shoulder."

Jubilee realized she'd been stiff and nervous. Licking her lips, she complied, liking the feel of his muscular shoulder under her hand. The power in this man was unfathomable, wild and only half under control most of the time. Yet despite his capacity for violence, his arms were the safest haven on earth. With his hand resting on her hip and her hand in his, he lead her around the front room, and moved in perfect step to the music, spinning her around, first one way then the other.

"Woohoo!" Jubilee shouted. "This is more fun than jammin' to rock n' roll." The song changed, but was no less fun with a good beat.

By the end of the fifth song, Jubilee had the two-step down. Then the next song took the beat down a dozen notches; a slow song. Her stomach twisted nervously over the thought of Logan holding her to a slow tune. "Uh, how do we do this?" She sounded as unsure as she felt.

"Same thing, just slower," Logan said, his tone distracted. He slipped a hand around her waist and gathered her close.

Jubilee found it hard to breathe and a shiver traveled up her spine. It had been years since Logan had held her tight. He'd give her a quick hug now and then, but not like this, not anymore. The protective shelter of his arms when she was young and lost had disappeared now that she was older. She missed that. She looked over and saw Rogue laying her head on Remy's shoulder. She hesitated, then did the same. Logan tensed, then relaxed and his hand moved over her back.

"This is nice," she said softly. Logan was very warm, and his arms around her felt assuring and she suddenly found herself envying every woman who had been intimate with him. "You know, you and I have never danced."

"Ain't never had a moment, darlin'," Logan said close to her ear. It tickled, and another shiver feathered down her spine. "Being an X-man is no picnic. Have to take these moments and enjoy them when ya' get 'em 'cause ya' never know if they'll come around again."

"Yeah," Jubilee answered, knowing she felt the same way but for an entirely different reason. She was growing up and Logan was pulling away. "I think I know what you mean." And she snuggled closer to him.

* * * *

Jubilee's plan was to begin a full assault on Logan for the next two weeks before his birthday; she didn't want him to forget that she wasn't a little girl any longer. Unfortunately she had finals, so she couldn't skip any classes and she had to study hard. When she'd call the mansion Logan was never there. Bishop told her that he had heard distant and frequent gunfire toward the rear of the mansion's property. Further investigation by Bishop revealed that Logan was busy target practicing. Logan was an expert shot though he rarely touched a gun instead preferring his adamantium claws. Jubilee wanted to know why, Bishop said he had asked and Logan only said that he was polishing up on his accuracy. Whatever that was suppose to mean.

On the weekend of Logan's party, Jubilee arrived at the mansion Friday night late, almost midnight. She was tired but she'd finished finals and though she didn't know her grades yet, she knew she'd done well. She looked for Logan's scoot before going in through the back and running into Bobby raiding the kitchen. He started and looked up at she entered, a sheepish expression on his face. His arms were loaded down with chips, French onion dip and cookies.

"Oh, uh, hey Jubilee. I thought you were Logan."

"Sorry, don't have the hair or the claws," Jubilee laughed and smiled. "Got munchies?"

"Want some." He proffered the chip bag and she shook her head.

"No thanks, my stomach's all twisted in knots from final exams." Well, that was one reason, but the real reason was anticipation of seeing a certain hairy Canuck. "Where's Logan? His scoot is gone."

"Don't know. Don't care. Good riddance."

"You jumped when I walk in, what's going on?"

Bobby frowned, then shrugged. "What does a rampaging 800 pound gorilla do?"

Jubilee stared at him for a moment. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Humor me for a moment. What does a rampaging 800 pound gorilla do?"

Jubilee sighed. "I don't know, what?"

"Anything it damn well wants," he replied and stuffed his mouth full of chips. "That's Logan, except worse because an 800 pound gorilla doesn't have nine inch Adamantium claws," he mumbled around a full mouth and gestured with the chip bag. "The way he's been acting lately you don't even want to say boo. We should all be relieved that he's generally on our side—-most of the time anyway. Tell you what, when Apocalypse got a hold of him and turned him into Death, that was my worst nightmare. If we're lucky, maybe he's gone to thump a few heads together at one of those bars that he likes."

"If we're lucky that'll chill him out," Jubilee replied. She didn't like to be reminded of what Apocalypse had done to Logan. She watched Bobby leave the kitchen then sat down at the kitchen table and played with a lacy doily. "What is wrong with you, Logan?" she said to herself. "Why won't you talk to me?"

She made herself a cup of hot chocolate then yawning, headed upstairs to bed, and despite bone weary exhausted from long nights of studying, she couldn't get to sleep. Tossing and turning, she alternately stewed over Logan and her just completed final exams. She had fallen into a light doze when she heard the put-put of Logan's Harley. Bleary eyed, she rolled over and blinked at the clock. It was a quarter to four. She rose, threw a robe around the long t-shirt that she wore to bed, and padded downstairs.

Logan stumbled through the kitchen door. His black tank top was ripped and dark splattered stains speckled both shirt and blue jeans. Blood, Jubilee realized. He had healing bruises and cuts on his face. His long black hair was whipped back from riding on the Harley, and he had a half smile on his face. He looked like hammered hell.

"I hope the other guys look worse than you do," she said walking into the light of the kitchen. "Though that would be hard to imagine."

"Hey, darlin'. What 'cho doin' up this time o' night," he slurred and squinted at her.

"Obviously not what you've been doing." He was drunk. She had never seen him drunk. His mutant healing factor took care of the alcohol effects, unless he drank in quantities that it couldn't handle. She didn't even want to think about how much he had consumed.

"S'better that you haven't darlin'." He staggered and started to fall. Jubilee hurried forward and tried to catch him, but holding up 300 pounds of adamantium laced skeleton was impossible and they both fell to the floor, he on top of her.

"Oof!" The breath whooshed from Jubilee's lungs. "Logan," she rasped, "you're squishing me you big oaf." She pushed at his shoulder, but as she had found out a few weeks ago when he was teasing her, he was too heavy to budge. "'Crushed under a man with metal skeleton' is not the epitaph I want on my tombstone."

"I think this is... rather... cozy...."

The sounds of his snores filled the kitchen.

"Wonderful," Jubilee grumbled. "I think it would serve you right if you woke up with the mother of all hangovers. No such luck though."

Somehow she managed to wiggle out from underneath him. She stood and looked down at him, hands on hips. "Men," she said finally. "They all think they're rough and tough but in the end they all need nursemaids." She frowned at him. He looked too peaceful for her own peace of mind. She kicked him in the ribs. It was suppose to be a nudge, but it was more of a kick and she paid for it. "Son of a--," she moaned and grabbed her toe and hopped around the kitchen. "Note to self, never kick man with metal bones."

Still, the kick had the desired effect and Logan groan. Toe still smarting, Jubilee leaned down and wrapped her arms under his armpits. "Okay, big guy. You can't sleep down here, let's get to bed."

"Only if you go there with me," he said.

Jubilee froze. He couldn't know what he was talking about; he had to be mistaking her for... well... whomever he was last intimate with. "Let's worry about putting you to bed." Briefly she considered taking advantage of his inebriated state, but rejected that idea. If she ever made love to Logan, she didn't want him drunk out of his senses. She wanted him fully cognizant and at peak performance. She blushed at that thought. "Pervert," she mumbled to herself. "Or desperate." She wasn't that desperate... yet.

She helped him get to his feet and braced one arm around his waist and he threw a hand over her shoulders. Weaving through the house, Jubilee always on the verge of loosing her balance, she got him up the stairs to his room as quietly as possible so as not to wake the sleeping household. Logan was singing under his breath.

"Jeremiah was a bullfrog, was a good friend of mine." Logan hiccupped. "Never understood a single word he said, but I helped him a drinkin' his wine. Yeah he always had some might fine wine."

"Here we go," she said as they stopped in front of his door. "Let's get you to bed. I don't think I can deal with any more songs."

"Sing joy to the world, all the boy's n' girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me."

"Dude, that's like some serious old fogey music," she informed Logan and scrunched up her nose. Wasn't that a song from an old band called "Five Dog Night" or something like that? She twisted the doorknob and pushed opened the door with her foot and they stumbled in. His room was less of a wreck than usual. "Here we are, and don't you pass out on me yet or I'll leave you on the floor."

"Slept in worse places," he mumbled and pulled off his ripped shirt. Jubilee tried not to stare. As far as her experience with men went rippling muscles was just a trite cliché, but not on Logan. Whoa! She hoped her tongue wasn't hanging out. He started to unzip his blue jeans, but that's as far as he got before he collapsed into the covers.

"You owe me for this one, Wolvie. Now off with the cowboy hat. You'll just have to sleep in the rest of your cloths, because as much as I'd like to see them off you, now is not the time."

Jubilee reached over for the cowboy hat, and suddenly, quickly, Logan's arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her down on the bed. He easily shifted her weight against him and she found her back pressed tightly against his chest and her rear end against his... she ignore a shiver of awareness. He didn't know what he was doing. Did he?

"Logan! Let me go!" She braced her hands against his arm and tried to squeeze out of his embrace. Judging by the sound of his deep breathing, he was asleep again and his arm was like a steel band around her waist. Resigning herself to a few hours next to him, she reached down grabbed the blankets and managed to cover them both. Not that this was a bad thing, she reminded herself, but she had a feeling she was the one who would pay for it.

* * * *

The sun warm on her face and bright against her closed eyes, Jubilee woke. Something tickled her nose. She rubbed it... her hand froze. Hair? Her eyes popped open.

Hairy chest. Muscular shoulder.

Logan.

He was sleeping on his side; she was snuggled up against him with her head pillowed on his chest. Her t-shirt had ridden up around her waist and one arm was underneath her neck and behind her back, and his other hand rested on her hip.

She moved her head and looked up at his face. His chest rose and fell evenly. Tentatively, cautiously, she reached out and ran her fingertips across his chest, the rough-soft feel of his chest hair tickled. She traced the curve of a well-honed muscle. The guy was superbly buff. With all his excesses, it had to be his healing factor that helped to keep him in peak shape. He didn't stir so she continued her exploration and ran her hand down his stomach. Not an iota of flab on the man. Wonderful.

"Have you seen Jubilee?" a voice said from outside Logan's room. It was Ororo.

"She came in late last night," another answered. Bobby. "She's probably still asleep."

"No, I checked," Ororo answered.

"It's almost noon, maybe she's out with Logan," Bobby replied.

"I think Logan's still asleep."

Jubilee heard the door handle turn. Her breath caught in her throat and could only watch as the door began to slowly open. The house would be in an uproar in she was caught in Logan's bed. The arm around her middle clamped tighter. She looked down as Logan's eyes popped open. He rolled her over him onto the other side of the bed and covered her with the blankets then sat up.

"Oh, Logan!" Jubilee heard Ororo's started voice followed by a delicate snort. "You look like you've been through the spin cycle."

"Worse," Logan replied.

"I guess I shouldn't have to ask if you've seen Jubilee?"

"She's around," Logan answered, his answer sufficiently vague.

"You left your motorcycle on the back lawn," Ororo said, from under the covers Jubilee heard her muffled voice thick with disapproval.

"Wasn't seein' too straight last night."

"That's an understatement," came a wry comment from bobby.

"I'll move it in a bit," Logan replied.

Jubilee heard the door closing and a scant moment later Logan whipped the blankets off and she found herself staring up at him. She searched his face trying to assess what he might be thinking. She finally spoke.

"Ain't my fault." But I'm still going to be punished for it, she added silently.

"I know." He sat on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor and rubbed a hand over his face looking better than a man should after a night of drinking.

She sat up and smoothed a hand over his shoulders. For a moment he was very still, then stood up and crossed to a battered chest of drawers. There he picked up a cigar, lit it and took a long drag.

"Nothing happened," she said in a small voice.

"Better get out Jubes before they come back and find you here."

And that was it. He was ignoring the fact that he almost dragged her into bed... well he did, Jubilee reminded herself, and was now excusing her just like that. Like nothing happened. Well nothing did, but it could of.

Could of, would have, should have. None of those counted as far as he appeared to care. Something had gone through his mind during unguarded moments last night, but he wasn't going to acknowledge them. Logan. Typical.

Jubilee slipped off the bed, stood and smoothed down the long t-shirt and, head down, crossed the room to the door. She paused by Logan and looked up at him. He was still bare chested, blue jeans unzipped. She licked her lips. "What are you planning to do today?"

"What's it to you?" He took a drag on the cigar and exhaled a long cloud of smoke.

Jubilee sucked in a short breath. That hurt. "Yeah, what's it to me."

She left, closing the door softly behind her.

[next part]

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