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Title:
Alter-Eighteen: Speaking in Grunts
Author:
Terri
E-mail:
xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating:
PG-13
Disclaimer:
I don't own anyone. Rats.
Archive:
Ask, and I will happily provide.
Feedback:
Please? With whipped cream on top? Good, bad, and ugly welcome
Summary:
Alternative version of events in the movie and the eighteen series.
Things are a little different than our usual scenario..
Comments:
This is just a little ficlet, but I kinda liked it. It was born through
the interbreeding of two plot bunnies - one from ssj-heero@webtv.net, who
wanted a fic where Logan and rogue switched powers and ages. That one
first made me think about doing an AU 18 with that change, but I couldn't
quite pull it off and make the characters still recognizable. Then
along came Sandy (sleef@sympatico.ca-yes, there are still multiple Sandys
out there) with a similar bunny-they switch powers, and Logan's become a
reclusive, grumpy old man, living all alone in a cabin and Rogue is a just-escaped
girl with no memory, but still basically SweetieRogue. Plus, Keli has
been asking for an AU 18 that centers around grocery shopping, and this is
probably as close as she's going to get ;) She also asked for a happy,
foofy fic, so that's why we get a fairly upbeat Rogue, despite the fact that
she's just escaped from some pretty awful circumstances.
---------------------------------------------------
I think
I lost him. I think I lost him. Just-just have to keep going,
just have to keep running. I think-I think when I slashed through him,
I think that'll put him out for a while. I think I lost him.
OK, OK,
just have to get it together a little. It's-I'm in the middle of nowhere,
but at least I'm not in that awful lab. I just can't believe what they
did to me. God, I'm-I'm almost glad I can't really remember it all.
Having the claws, that's bad enough. OK, get it together. Just
stay calm. No more thinking about the lab. Right. Now,
I'm in the middle of nowhere, so I guess I'll just pick a direction and keep
going. Maybe the storm will let up. I won't freeze anyway, I
don't think so. Even if I do, I bet I'd just heal. After all,
I healed from everything those bastards-no, no don't think about that.
You've got to make sure you've lost Sabretooth. Just keep going.
Don't think about the lab.
I wonder
how long I can run before I drop. I know that's part of it, part of
my mutation, the stamina, the strength. I'm a lot stronger than I look.
Kind of like-hey-hey-is that something? I think it is. It looks
like a little shack or something. Oh, God. Thank God. Shelter.
Hallelujah. Finally, I catch a break.
Looks lived
in too-there's smoke coming from the chimney. It's really small, though.
I bet it's a hunting lodge or something. I think there's a light on
in there too. Well, if it's hunters, maybe they'll have some food.
I'm starving. I can't remember when the last time they fed me was.
No-stop that. No thinking about the lab. You're out of there,
Rogue, and there's no reason to think about it ever again. So just
stop.
Besides,
I have to think of what to say to these people. Hi, I'm a mutant that
escaped from some lab that was being raided by some other mutants.
I didn't want to join up with them and help them take over the world so now
there's a big hairy evil mutant following me, can I come in? No, that
won't do. How about-hi, I'm Rogue. Yes, I know I'm barefoot and
just wearing a hospital gown in the subzero blizzard. It's a fashion
statement. Nope, that sucks just as much. Well, here I am.
I'd better think of something fast. I'll knock. Knocking is a
good start.
"What the
hell are you doin'?"
OK, not
as friendly a greeting as I'd hoped. And I am apparently destined for
a day full of large, hairy men. "Hi. I'm-I'm lost. Please-I,
uh, need some help."
"What the
hell happened to you?" He's eyeing me up and down, and I think it's
registered that something is up. I'll bet he doesn't get too many half-naked
visitors. Might as well go with the truth, I guess.
"Look, I'm
a mutant. Don't freak out, I'm not dangerous. I was, uh, captured
by some, um, very bad people. I ran away and I need some help.
There's-I didn't see anything else out here. Can you help me, please?
Can I-can I just come in and get warm for a while?" If nothing else,
I'd just like to stop being freezing cold for a few minutes.
"Come on."
He's giving me a really suspicious look but he's opening the door a little
wider. Whew. Whew.
"Thanks.
Thanks so much. I'm-" They called me Rogue, and I don't really
remember what my name is, but there's something-I think it might have been
Marie. First name, middle name, who knows, but I think Marie was in
there somewhere. "-Marie."
"Mph."
My host
communicates through grunts. Great. Months of no real human contact
at the lab and now I've got grunting guy. Maybe I should try to make
some conversation. "What's your name?"
"Why do
you wanna know?" He looks like the dwarf-Grumpy-all grown up.
Well, all grown up and having taken lots of vitamins and worked out a lot.
But definitely the epitome of grumpiness.
"I don't
mean to pry or anything. Just asking. Sorry."
He's looking
at me like he doesn't quite know what to make of me. Frankly, I don't
blame him. "It's Logan."
"Nice to
meet you." Maybe I should, I don't know, shake his hand or something or
"Stay the
hell away from me!" Holy crap! He jumped back about five feet.
Think, think. You told him you're a mutant. He's scared.
No handshaking. Think.
"Sorry.
Sorry."
"Don't fuckin'
touch me!"
"Sorry.
I-I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not-I know I said I was a mutant
and everything, but I'm not dangerous, I swear. I'm not going to hurt
you."
"No shit."
Um, OK. I don't get it. "I could hurt you. I'm a mutant
too. It's my skin. It kills. It kills anyone who touches
it. So don't fuckin' touch me."
"OK."
I don't really know what to say to that, so I'm just going to go stand by
the fire. My toes are completely blue and that can't be good.
"Thanks for letting me in."
"Mph."
I believe that was the grunt of 'You're welcome.' "You got any other
clothes? You gotta be freezin'." He's calming down a little,
which is good.
"No."
"I'll getcha
some. Stay right there. Don't move." He's very big on the
not moving. Maybe those are some of his clothes in that trunk.
I hope he gives me something warm to wear. "Here." A sweatshirt, sweatpants,
and socks. Oh, thank God. Clothes. Warm clothes.
"Thanks.
Thanks a lot."
"Mph."
Yes, that is definitely the grunt of 'You're welcome.' Def-what?
Why is he looking at me like that? Oh. Yeah. Naked.
Well, I couldn't wait to put warm clothes on. Deal with it.
"Thanks again.
I, uh, really appreciate it." Still staring even though my naked is
mostly covered now. Except for the feet, which are slowly getting less
blue. Socks should help. "Are you, uh, the only one living here?"
"Yeah."
He's eyeing me up and down like I'm some kind of alien. Or, you know,
a half-naked mutant chick that just happened to drop in on his isolated mountain
cabin.
"You wouldn't
have anything to eat, would you?"
"Yeah.
Hang on." I don't think he has much-there's no fridge and no stove.
Looks like some pots over by the fire. Maybe that's where he cooks.
"You want beef jerky or pretzels?"
"Would you,
um, mind if I had both? I'm a little hungry." Starving, actually.
"Mph."
Since he's giving me both bags, I guess that's the grunt of 'fine by me.'
"What's your mutation?"
"Oh. I,
uh, I heal. From just about anything. And, well, don't be scared,
but I have claws. Metal claws."
Curious
now, more than suspicious or grumpy, I think. "Metal?"
"Yeah.
They're an 'improvement'-the people at the lab did it." You know, he
actually looks sorry for me, sympathetic. Maybe I wasn't being so nice
before, calling him grumpy. He seems like a decent guy.
"You want
somethin' to drink? I got beer."
"Sure."
I'll just eat the food, have some beer, and get warm. Then I'll go.
I have to make sure they don't find me, and I don't want to bring any trouble
to this guy's door. He *has* been pretty decent so far. And he
has good taste in beer-none of that lite crap for Mr. Big and Hairy.
"Thanks."
"Mph."
As, yes, the grunt of 'you're welcome,' I know it well.
"I told
ya nobody's here, dammit. Now get offa my property." What?
Oh, crap, I fell asleep. Crap. It must have been the beer.
"Very well,
then. Good day." Ugh. That's the blue one, the shapeshifter.
Mystique. I'd recognize that smell anywhere. I wonder what she
shifted into in front of Logan. At least she sounded like she believed
him. I think he threw her off. And he's shutting the door.
Good.
"Um, hey."
Am I-he must've put me on the floor and thrown those blankets over me.
I don't think I fell asleep half-under the bed. "Was that by any chance
a blue woman?"
"Nah.
Was lookin' for ya though." He's looking at me weird. Really
weird. "I, uh, hadta put ya on the floor when I heard the knock.
I was real careful not to touch ya, you know, with my skin."
"Oh.
Well, no problem. Thanks-thanks for not telling her I was here."
Still looking at me weird. You know, I think I kind of preferred the
grunting. "Sorry, I must've fallen asleep. I, uh, really didn't
mean to. I should-I should probably get going." If they're already
out looking for me-
"Mph."
I don't know that one. That's a new grunt. "Might wanna stay
here a while. Could be a bunch of 'em out there. I won't-I promise
not to get near ya again."
"Look, I'm
really not worried about that." I mean, I heal from almost anything,
right? Even if his skin could kill me, it would take a heck of a lot
of skin to skin contact, I think. And he's obviously really careful
about it. He even put gloves on. "I'm a little more worried that
they'll figure out I'm here and, uh, try to kill us both or something.
A little more concerned about that than the whole skin thing at the moment."
"I can handle
'em. And I think that woman bought my story. I don't think they're
comin' back here lookin'." I don't know-Logan makes some sense, but
it's not really right to endanger him. On the other hand, if there
are a bunch of evil mutants out there, what good am I going to do by running
right back out?
"I just
don't want to put you in danger. It's not fair-you helped me and I really
appreciate that, and it's not fair to pay you back by getting you in trouble."
"Mph."
Another new grunt. I wonder what the full extent of his grunt vocabulary
is. "They don't scare me. You can stay." He said that so
earnestly, so sincerely. That's making me want to just break down and
cry. There's no reason this guy should be helping me, should be risking
anything for me. People aren't like that, people are-"Or, if you don't wanna
stay, I-"
"No, no,
I'm just-I'm just a little emotional." Maybe-I know he said not to
touch him but maybe I can just sit next to him on the bed. Not actually
touching, but, you know, close. "I really appreciate that. I'm
not really used to people being nice, I guess. Don't-don't pay any
attention to me, I'm just a little overwhelmed by the whole thing, escaping
and hiding and now the niceness, you know?"
"Mph."
That's the grunt of 'I understand.' He looks a little freaked by how
close I am, like he doesn't quite know whether to run like hell or hug me.
"I know
you said not to touch you, but could I just-you know, where you're covered-could
I just um, do this?" Just putting my hand on his arm shouldn't make
him freak too much. I warned him I'd do it, and it's just a little
gesture. Just to show him how grateful I am and that I'm not worried
about skin-related issues.
"Rrrrrr.."
I think he likes it. Maybe he wouldn't mind a little arm-rubbing.
"Mmmmrrrrrrrr" Yes, arm-rubbing - good. I wonder how long it's
been since someone touched him. "Years." Oh, crap, I asked that
out loud, didn't I? Well, nothing to do about it now, I guess.
It makes me feel so awful for him to know that, though. It makes me
want to comfort him somehow.
"Can I hug
you? I'll be careful." A thank-you hug is definitely in order
if no one's touched him in years. He's not saying yes or no, not even
a grunt-he actually looks a little spaced out, almost like he's drunk on
the touches. Well, I'll just slowly, slowly move to hug him and see
what happens.
"Mmmmmrrrrrrrr."
Hugging's good also. Poor guy. He's got a sucky mutation, even
worse than mine. I can't even imagine how awful it must be. Well,
I don't want to hit overload. That was a nice hug, and I can just maybe
keep one hand on his arm or something. That might not be too much for
him.
"Thanks.
I kind of like touching you, you know? It's nice." It is.
He's warm and he smells pretty good. He's not cutting me open with
saws or trying to drown me or-no, no, stop it. Stop thinking those
things. Nice touching. That's all. No bad lab thoughts,
just focus on the nice touching and how nice Logan's being to you now.
"You're
not scared?"
"No.
I've seen a lot scarier things." Which I am *not* going to let myself
think about.
"I liked
it." He looks almost shy saying that. I think my earlier assessment
of 'grumpy' might have been a little off, or at least not the whole story.
The idea of him living alone up here for years, not being around people, not
touching anyone-that's so sad. I really feel for him. And he's
a pretty good guy. He helped me out a lot, and he didn't have to.
I want to do something big to thank him, and maybe touching could be it.
Maybe he'd like a little more, maybe it wasn't overload. He said he
liked it - maybe that's-maybe that's his way of asking for more touches.
"I could
do it some more if you wanted. Maybe-maybe a back rub?" I think
I remember getting one of those and it feeling really, really good.
I'm not sure I know how to give a good one, but I could improvise.
"Mph."
New grunt. I'm going to guess that one means 'I kind of want to but
I'm not too sure.'
"I'll stop
if you don't like it. And I'll be really careful." Maybe he'll
feel better about it if he knows he'll be in charge of how much touching
there is.
"Mph."
Aha-the grunt of agreement.
"Lie down-lie
down on your stomach." I'm going to go really slow. I don't want
to do anything to scare him. He's-I think he's trembling a little.
It's got to be pretty intense for him. I'll go slow. I'll start
with his shoulders. Just gentle, light touches. "Is that OK so
far?"
"Mph."
"I'll take
that as a 'yes.'" That got a little smile out of him-I saw the corner
of his mouth go up. I knew Mr. Grumpy had a lighter side. "Do
you want to talk or anything?" I gather that he's not big on sharing,
but I would like to know a little more about him.
"What about?"
"Whatever
comes to mind, whatever you want." A little firmer now, so I can work
out some of the tension in his muscles. Of which there is a lot.
"I got my
thing when I was seventeen. First girl I ever kissed was in a coma for
three weeks. She was a mutie too. I got her powers when I touched
her-mind reading-and a piece of her stuck in my head. She lived and
I tried say I was sorry, butI moved up here after that."
"And you've
been living alone up here since then?" That would have to be, like,
twenty years or something. He looks about mid-thirties.
"Yeah.
Go into town once a month or so for stuff, but I stay away from the people.
I know they laugh at me, call me the mountain man. I don't give a shit.
I ain't takin' a risk of killin' anybody or gettin' anymore people in my head."
I kind of
don't blame him. His power sucks even more than I thought. But
still, secluding yourself, living in isolation-that's not the healthiest response
to the problem. And it makes me wonder what the heck made him open up
his door to me. "Why did you help me out back there, Logan?"
"You asked.
Looked like you needed help." I can feel him tensing up again.
Wonder why.
"I did."
I hope he doesn't mind if I ruffle through his hair a little. I just have
the urge to, and I think he might like it.
"You talk
now." He does like it-that came out in a choked whisper.
"I was in
a lab, being experimented on for the past-well, a long time. As long
as I can remember. I lost count of the actual time a while ago, and
I can't really remember anything before being in the lab. A couple
days ago, this bunch of other mutants-they called themselves the Brotherhood-they
raided the lab and killed all the doctors, which was great. But they
pretty much insisted that all the mutants that were still alive join up with
their little group and do the 'let's rule the world' thing. There was
this one guy-Sabretooth-who was interested in a little more, um, *personal*
relationship with me, but he was, you know, evil, so I didn't want to do
that. They wouldn't give me clothes, or shoes, or anything, and Sabretooth
wasn't taking no for an answer, so I decided to run away. That's when
I landed here." That's pretty much the whole story. The whole
sad, disgusting story of my life, all of it that I remember.
"Mph."
That's the grunt of 'I commiserate.' And maybe 'I really like the backrub.'
"Yeah.
How's that? Enough? More?" He seems a lot more relaxed
now.
"Mph."
I think that means maybe a little more. I'll move down a little to
his ribs.
"After I
do you will you do me?" Because those soft little sighs and appreciative
grunts are making a back rub look like a pretty good prospect and-
"Yeah.
Now." Whoa. Shot right up. Hmmm. Maybe him touching
me is better than me touching him. I guess so, I mean, look at him
- his eyes are practically glowing.
"OK."
I'll just lay down in the spot he was in. "I've-I'm pretty covered.
You can take off your gloves if you want." I bet that would feel better
for both of us.
"Too dangerous."
"You'll be
careful. I trust you." And I do. It's odd, but I really,
really do. He's a little, you know, weird and stuff, but I really do
trust him and I like it here a heck of a lot better than the lab.
"I dunno.."
Well, I won't push. Whatever he decides is fine. "Stay still.
Don't move at all." I guess that means the gloves are coming off.
Either that, or it's just the general theme of not moving that I've noticed
is pretty big with him.
"Mmm.."
No gloves. Very nice. Strong hands. "Feels good."
I haven't felt good in a really long time. I could just melt into the
bed, I really could. He's got great hands.
"More?"
His breathing changed and he smells different-if I don't miss my guess, Logan's
*really* enjoying this. Not that I mind. When you haven't touched
anyone in years, well, a little excitement is bound to ensue. Besides,
he's a natural. This is a great back rub.
"Mmm-hmmm."
Definitely. Definitely more.
Water everywhere
and I can't breathe, can't get out. This is the worst, the absolute
worst and they do it all the time. I'm drowning. I'm suffocating.
But I can't die.
"Uh, hey."
I hate that
they even talk to me. I'm a thing, a monster, a mutant. Don't
talk to me.
"Wake up."
All the
rapes, the tortures, the beatings, the surgeries, they'll never end.
Never. I can't even make myself die to end it, I can't do anything.
"Hey."
No, that's
wrong. I can do one thing. I can make them hurt too. I
can make them suffer too.
"Hey, Marie,
wa-"
"Aaaahhh!!!"
Feels good to sink my claws into-oh, God, no! Logan!
"Mph."
Shit, shit, shit! I stabbed him right through the lung. Fuck!
He's already breathing blood, I can see some on his mouth.
"Sorry!
So sorry! I-I-" I can't let this happen. I can't let him die.
It's not right-he-he helped me, he let me touch him, he trusted me.
It's not right for him to die like this, to die because of that. I can't
let it happen that way. That's not how it's supposed to be.
"Mmmm."
He looks-he's not mad, he's just shocked, so shocked that I'd hurt him.
Oh, God, I can't let him die.
"Logan-"
His skin. He said he got the powers. If I touch his skin-it,
it might work. But he's covered, and even in gloves again and-his face.
His face is bare and so is mine. I can use that. Oh, please,
God, let this work. Let it work. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry..
"Mmmpprrrhh."
Ouch. Just ouch. Everything hurts.
"Hey, Marie.
Are you-are you doin' OK?" Logan? Oh, thank God, it must've worked.
It must've worked. Either that or I'm dead or hallucinating.
"L-logan?"
"Yeah.
Right here. Open your eyes." But doing that would result in-ouch!-light
sensitivity, big time. But I can see him. He even looks OK.
"It worked?"
"Yeah.
Yeah, Marie. You saved my life." He looks so grateful for that,
which, clearly, is wrong. Very wrong. I'm the one who jeopardized
his life in the first place. Because of what I am, because of what
they did to me. I'm every bit the monster they wanted. I'm the
one who belongs alone and away from people. I've got to get away from
Logan before something else happens. If I can just sit up -
"Oof."
"Don't-don't
try to move. Just rest. Just stay still. I was worried-I
thought there for a minute I'd killed ya."
"But you're
OK?"
"Yeah.
I'm fine." He's touching me and I'd think he'd be terrified to do that.
I'd think he'd have put me out in the snow or turned me over to Mystique or-"Relax,
OK? You're-you're breathin' kinda fast. Just try to relax."
"I'm so
sorry."
"I know.
I mean, I really know. I got you in my head pretty good now."
"I'm-I forgot
all about that." He's probably got all the horrible memories that I
do now. Great, just great. He's going to wish I hadn't saved
his life.
"Nah.
I'm glad ya did." Did I say that out loud? I've really got to
get a grip on that kind of thing. "I like havin' ya up here.
You're-you're real nice."
"I'm just
so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Honest, I never meant to
hurt you." I hope he believes me because he's been really nice to me
and I at least want him to know I feel like shit over what I did and that
I never wanted to -
"I know.
It ain't your fault. It was an accident."
"Pretty
bad accident."
"Still an
accident." He's touching my arm now, very gently. How can he
do that? How can he do that after I ripped his lung out? "Hey,
just rest, all right? Everything's gonna be fine."
"Mrpmph."
That's all the response I can muster.
"What's that
the grunt of?" I should've figured he'd get that. Dammit.
Now he probably thinks I'm a bitch. Wait, no-he's smiling. I
think-yes, he's joking. He thinks it's funny.
"It's the
grunt of gratitude for being so decent even though I hurt you really badly."
Maybe since he doesn't seem to mind touching me, he won't mind if I hold
his hand a little. Just so he knows I mean it.
"Ah."
He's holding my hand back. That's a good sign.
"Logan-what
else-what else did you get from me? Can you remember anything about
me? Maybe something I couldn't remember? Something from before
the lab?"
"Mph."
Now, that's the grunt of 'I'm thinking.' Definitely. "I think
it was your middle name. Marie, I mean. I can't get to your first.
There's-there's not too much before the lab." Oh-oh. His eyes
flashed anger there for a minute. "Those fuckers oughta die for what
they did to you." I know I should probably be embarrassed that he's
seen all of that, but I'm just grateful that he did. Maybe-maybe it'll
help him understand. Maybe he won't hate me completely for what I did
to him. Maybe if he can see where the nightmare came from, it'll make
a little sense to him. "You're not what you think, Marie. You're
not a monster or some shit. That's them. That's what they are."
"But look
what they made me into. Look at what I did to you, and you were only
ever good to me, Logan. That's what I am, I-"
"No."
Squeezing my hand pretty hard now. "You're good. Just good.
I can see everything about you like this, in my head, and you're good.
I know it for sure."
"I wish
I could believe that."
"Hey."
Whoa, touching my face-stroking it like that. I-I never would've expected
that. I like it, but I just never would've expected it. It's
such a tender gesture from him, and so caring, so gentle after I've hurt
him. "I know you-I know you think I'm weird, and I guess I am."
"Logan-"
"But I know
you like me a little bit and I know you liked it when I touched you.
You felt-it felt good. I just think-I think we should stay here.
Together. For a while."
"I can't
stay. I'll hurt you again, and I can't take that." He really
wants me to, I can tell, but that's a big chance to take with his life.
"We'll be
careful. Both of us-we could both get hurt and we could both do the
hurtin'. You liked it when I touched you. It felt good.
I can tell. You weren't scared. You liked it."
He's right.
I do like him and I do think he's weird and it did feel good when he touched
me and when I touched him. Something's telling me he's safe. He
won't hurt me. I just don't know if I can live with knowing I could
hurt him. "I did like it. But-"
"So stay."
"Logan-"
"Don't-you
don't hafta answer now. Just get some rest. Just think about
it. OK?" Stroking my face again, even gentler this time.
He makes me want to believe it, he makes me want to stay so much.
"OK."
Just thinking about it can't hurt. "Just be careful when I'm sleeping.
If I fall back asleep-just be really careful, OK?
"Marie.I
felt your lips against my cheek when you touched me." He said that
so soft, so kind. "You showed me everything. I'm not afraid."
I do believe that. I do. I couldn't do anything else, with the
way he's touching me and looking into my eyes. I think-maybe it would
be OK. Maybe it would be OK if I stayed.
"Hey, you're
up." I like watching him sleep a lot. He's so peaceful then,
so beautiful. He doesn't look grumpy at all.
"Yeah.
Mornin'." In fact, I think he's actually mellowing out. I've
been here a month now, and there's a noticeable difference. I think
it's the touching. He loves being touched. He's been starved
for contact for so long, it's no wonder. I like to start touching him
right away, first thing in the morning. "Mph." That's the grunt
of 'I like it. More, please.' I really kind of like it myself.
He feels good, safe. Ironic, given his skin and everything, I know.
I usually
start with his chest. One-he's got a spectacular chest. Two-I
like to remind myself what happened that first night I was here by running
my hands over where I stabbed him. All little weird, I know, and it's
definitely painful to think about, really painful, but I have to remember
to be careful. Especially since we both started sleeping in the bed.
Which brings me to point number three-the workable sleeping system (both
of us lying on our sides, my back to him so that the claws don't pop out
and get him) does not allow me enough quality snuggling in the chest area.
After a
full exploration of the chest, I usually hit the tummy area. He's got
a very hairy stomach, which I think is cute. It's at this point that
my self-control dissolves a little and I end up kissing his chest and stomach
through his shirt. I can't help it. I mean, I'm a red-blooded
woman and just look at him. He's a babe. Plus, he gives out those
little half-rumbling, half-purring noises that I love to hear.
"Marie."
And sometimes it makes him call out my name. We still can't quite pin
down whether it's my first or middle name, but I've decided conclusively
that I like hearing it come out of his mouth. His perfect, soft, kissable
mouth.
"I was thinking
of trying something new." As much as he likes all the touching so far,
and as much as I can tell that he wants me, I still like to warn him before
doing something different. He doesn't like to be surprised, touch-wise,
even if it's a good surprise.
"Mph."
That's the grunt of 'Explain, tiny woman that's making me purr.'
"You know
those, um, things we got at the store last time." You know the word.
It's 'condoms.' A perfectly acceptable word that many grown-ups, such
as yourself, use.
"Yeah."
Oh, I definitely have his interest now. And certain parts are perking
up. Way up.
"Want to
use one?"
"How?"
We've been having an amazingly small amount of sexual contact for two heterosexual
people sharing the same bed night after night. I don't really remember
a lot about the whole sex thing, what it's like normally, outside of the
lab, but I think guys like this. And I think he'll probably like it
a lot.
"With my
mouth." Yes, I am blushing. I can't help it. "What do you
think?"
"Yeah.
Yeah. If-if you wanna." Smiling. He's smiling at that.
I've never seen him do that before. That's-that's actually pretty touching.
He's so happy that I'm going to do that with him.
"I want
to. Lie back." I'm pretty happy about it too. I like giving
to him. Especially things he's never had, things he thought that maybe
he never *would* have. Because that's what he gives to me. All
the things I stopped dreaming I'd ever have back in that lab. All the
good things, all the best things. Maybe even one day, love.
Maybe that'll come one day, for both of us.
"Marie."
Sometimes he gets a little caught for words. I can tell he's trying
to get it exactly right. "Can you touch me too, while you're doing
that? Would you mind?"
"Oh no,
sugar, that'll be the best part." Another smile. It's good to
know I'm doing something right by him, something good for him. I want
him to have all the good things too. I want to make him happy, light,
free.
"We're out
of potatoes. Do you think we should get the ten pound bag?" These
are among the critical questions that must be answered on our monthly shopping
trip. I must inform him of the need for starchy tubers. Oh yes,
and I have to find a way to tell him that I really, really love him.
I have to relay that information pretty soon. Before I do anything
silly like, oh, I don't know, explode in the middle of the store.
"Mph."
Affirmative grunt. Ten pound bag it is.
"What about
carrots?" I know they're not your favorite, sugar, but they're good
in stew. And you make great stew. It's one of the many, many
reasons that I love you.
"Mph."
Affirmative grunt again. Three pounds of carrots. "Do we got
onions?"
"Just a
few. We should probably get some more." And I should probably
work up the nerve to tell you I'm in love with you. Soon.
"Rice?"
"Not unless
you want some."
"Mph."
Negative grunt. No rice for us. "Hey, Marie?"
"Yeah?"
"Grab some
of those, will ya?"
"Sure."
Pickles. Interesting. I didn't know Logan liked pickles.
Much like he doesn't know I love him.
"You OK?
You're lookin' at me kinda funny. Somethin' wrong?"
"No, no."
The fact that I love you is very, very right. I just have to find a
way to tell you.
"Do I have
somethin' on my face or somethin'?"
"No, uh,
you're fine. All clear." I should really just stop acting so
weird or he's going to think something *is* wrong.
"Marie."
Oh-oh. We're stopping. Stopping the forward motion of the cart.
"What's wrong? You've been actin' weird for a while now. Just-just
tell me what's wrong, OK?" He's worried now. Good job, Marie.
"Nothing's
wrong, nothing-"
"Do you
wanna leave or somethin'?"
"God, no!
What-what made you think that?" He's not just worried. He's a
little pissed too. But how could he think I'd want that? I can't
stand to be more than two feet away from him as it is. Even in that
little cabin, I'm constantly glued to his side. I love him so much
it's actually kind of disgusting. Sickeningly sweet, even.
"You're just
bein' a little off, you know. Like you wanna tell me somethin' but not
really. I know you, Marie. Don't say it's nothin'. If you
wanna leave, I-"
"I don't
want to leave. But you're right. There is something I've been
trying to tell you." And I didn't exactly want it to come out in the
general store, but I don't want him to worry about me leaving. That's
ridiculous. "I've, um, been trying to find a good way to tell you that
I'm, uh, you know, that I, uh, well, that I love you." There.
It's out. The big L-word.
"Yeah?"
Whew. He looks like he likes that. Good. So far, so good.
"Yeah.
I mean, we've been living together for three months. And I, um, I fell
in love with you about a month back, totally, head over heels in love.
I've been trying to tell you ever since." Other shoppers are looking
at us, but I don't really care. I can even see one of them snickering
out of the corner of my eye. They think it's weird or funny that I
love the mountain man. I think it's pretty cool that I love him, and
I don't give a crap what anyone else thinks.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm."
Well, at least that wasn't a grunt.
"You know,
now would be a good time to, uh, say something a little more elaborate."
"Mph."
Hey! That's the grunt of 'I don't think so.' Oh, no, buster,
you're not getting away with that!
"That's
all you have to say?"
"One more
thing." He's pushing the cart again. He's just going right along
shopping, like nothing's changed. Like life isn't completely and totally
different because I love him. The nerve!
"Yeah?"
Well, it better be good. It had better be really, really good.
"Love you
too." Jerk. Big jerk. Big, lovable jerk. Big, hairy,
lovable, amazing, incredible, wonderful jerk.
"Yeah?"
OK, so I can't play it cool. Everyone in the store probably can tell
I'm excited that he loves me back. Probably some people in the parking
lot too.
"Mph."
Affirmative grunt. Yes, that's my guy. You know, he deserves
a little treat. "Wait. Marie-I thought you didn't like peanut
butter."
"Oh, I'm
not planning on eating it, sugar." No, no. I have other plans
completely. "Are we almost done here?"
"Mph."
Oh yes, that's the grunt of 'I'm gonna be all over you as soon as we get to
the truck.' The one that says 'I want you so bad I don't know if I'll
even make it to the truck.' The one that says 'Love you too.'
That's my favorite one of all.
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