|
Title: The Twelve Cookies of Christmas Author: Terri E-mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com Rating: PG Archive: DH, Peep Hut, everyone else, please ask :) Disclaimer: Not mine, not even most of the recipes ;) Feedback: Please! With some good old chocolate chip cookies on top? Good, bad, and ugly welcome………. Summary: Marie bakes and Logan works on their relationship, trying to read the signs the cookies are telling him, as well as stuff himself, along the way ;) Comments: Just a holiday fooflet – I never can seem to avoid those darn holiday bunnies entirely! If you’re interested in the recipes for what Marie is baking, you can check 'em out Here. ;-) And thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta bunch for their help with this one! --------------------------------------------------------------- Plain Old Garden Variety Chocolate Chip, or Cookies Dammit, depending on your point of view, Dec. 13, 2p “Whatcha doin’, kid?” Rogue threw a glance over her shoulder at the interloper in her kitchen. Oh, sure, it was technically the mansion’s kitchen, but when she was in full cookie-baking mode, she thought of it as hers. And one thing she hated above all else was an intrusion in her kitchen, even when said intrusion was of the burly, hairy, erstwhile man-of-her-dreams variety. Cookie baking was serious business, after all. And besides, in reality, things between them had been less than great for a while now – he may still be the man of her dreams, but he was also unfortunately the man of her bouts of frustration and disappointed hopes. “I’m making cookies, dammit.” Logan ignored her pique and just smirked. He’d been friendly with her lately, and seemed to be trying to rebuild their friendship. Marie wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but Logan seemed pretty persistent about trying. “Interestin’. I’ve heard of bananas foster, I’ve heard of chocolate flambé – hell, I’ve even heard of baked Alaska, but I’ve never heard of ‘cookies dammit.’ That’s a new one on me.” “Very funny.” Judging by the slightly less homicidal tone to her voice, Logan guessed that she must’ve indeed found it very funny. She’d threatened to drain the life out of men over less when she was in the cookie-baking mode. Logan – he’d always courted danger, though, so he decided to push his luck. “If you ask me – ” “And I haven’t.” Logan nearly laughed at that himself. “But if ya had, I’d say it looks like plain old garden variety chocolate chip cookies.” Rogue glared at him. “Which is good ‘cause I like your chocolate chip cookies.” “You seem to eat the majority of all the kinds of cookies I bake, Logan.” “They’re all pretty good.” Rogue raised her head to look him in the eye. “You’re just buttering me up so I’ll make your favorites, aren’t you, sugar?” “Me? Nah, what I said about ‘em all bein’ good is true.” Rogue hardened her expression. “Well, it is true. And, uh, it can’t hurt my chances, right?” Rogue gave an outright smile at that. “Go on, get out of here. You’ll get your cookies.” Logan smiled back and ambled out. Logan’s Favorites, otherwise known as Peanut Butter Blossoms made with Miniature Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, December 14th, 10a “So ya decided to take pity on a poor, hungry man, didya?” Rogue scowled at the intruder in her kitchen just as she had yesterday. Well, maybe with slightly less malice. “I have a plan, actually.” “A plan? Sneaky little thing, aintcha?” “I can be,” she teased, feigning aloofness. “Do you want to hear the plan?” “Lemme guess – you’re thinkin’ that maybe, if you make my favorite kinda cookies, maybe even make an extra batch just for me, I’ll stay the hell outta your kitchen until your Christmas baking insanity passes?” Now her scowl was veritably dripping with malice. “Insanity? Just for that, you’re not getting any of these cookies.” “Now, hang on there – some of the greatest art in the world is produced by total nut jobs. These could be some damn good cookies.” Rogue’s eyes widened and she let out a yelp. Logan seemed amused, chuckling deep in his chest. “You – you jerk! Just for that I should poison them!” Logan shrugged, still laughing a little. “Won’t bother me none, kid – and everyone else who tries to filch my favorite cookies’ll be six feet under. Come to think of it, it sounds like a pretty damn good plan to me, actually.” “You would let me poison the whole mansion just to get more cookies, wouldn’t you?” “Well, maybe not the whole mansion – your little boyfriend the ice pick still owes me a detail job on my truck.” “First of all,” Rogue began, suddenly sounding entirely too calm for Logan’s liking, “he’s not my boyfriend anymore, and I think you should just get this straight. We’ve been broken up for over a year. Second of all, he wouldn’t have to detail your truck if you’d just stop threatening him with the claws in the vicinity of the truck. I mean come on, Logan – do I really have to explain to you the causal connection between scaring Bobby in the garage and Bobby throwing up in your truck bed?” “No, you don’t hafta explain that. He’s a pansy ass, that’s the only explanation.” “Logan – ” “No, wait – there’s a part two to that. He’s also stupid. Wantin’ to break up with you goes to show that.” Rogue’s features softened and got a little sad. “I think it goes to show he’s smart. And that his self-preservation instincts are in great working order.” “Ah, darlin’, it ain’t that – it’s just that he’s young. And a pansy ass. I toldya that when you broke up with him. Maybe if he stopped using Scooter as a role model……..” “Logan, he dumped me, remember?” “Like I said – stupid. He’s a dumbass and a pansy ass.” Logan’s gaze had become uncomfortably intense all of a sudden, and Rogue found herself finally breaking eye contact, suddenly finding the cookie dough quite interesting. “Are you going to stand here and Dr. Phil me to death or are you going to let me bake cookies in peace?” Logan saw her discomfort and decided to let her off the hook. “Alright, woman, bake your cookies. Just don’t let anyone else get any free samples, huh? You save those for me.” He took her eye-roll as a yes, and headed down to the Danger Room. Experimental Cookies, aka Ricotta Cookies, December 15th, 7p “So, you’re makin’ cookies with cheese? That don’t sound right.” Rogue started at the first sounds of his voice, but soon realized that Logan was once again backseat-baking in her kitchen. “ They’re experimental. I’m trying a new recipe.” Logan scrunched his nose in disapproval. “Cookies’re supposedta be made with sugar and butter and maybe chocolate or peanut butter. People put this shit in lasagna, not cookies.” “Was there something you wanted?” Rogue snapped. Logan looked a little surprised, and a little stung by that, so she softened a bit before continuing. She wasn’t really sure why she’d reacted that way in the first place. He was only trying to be consistently friendly with her, trying to spend a little more time with her, something he hadn’t tried in months and months. “I mean, I’m a little busy here and it is the first time I’ve baked these, so unless you need something…….” “Nah,” Logan said, recovering his composure quickly. “Just passin’ through.” With that, he headed back out into the hall. Sugar Cookies, or Oppressive Dogmatic Cookies, December 16th, 8a “Hey, uh, Marie?” Rogue turned at the sound of an almost-timid knock against the kitchen doorframe and Logan’s soft words. “Yeah?” Frankly, she was confused – he’d never knocked before, and she’d never seen him quite this subdued. “Look, I only give the ice pick shit outta loyalty to you, you know that, right?” “Yeah,” she answered slowly. “And I only give you shit about the cookies ‘cause – well, ‘cause it’s kinda fun. And I thought you thought it was fun too.” “Yeah……” “Well, I didn’t mean anythin’ by it.” “OK………” Logan nodded, and turned to go, but Marie’s voice halted him. “Um, hey – wait!” “Yeah?” When he looked back at her, she looked confused, like she hadn’t quite known why she’d called to him. “Would you – would you like to try one of these?” Logan shrugged and spied the treats-in-progress. “Sugar cookies? The kind ya cut out, right?” “Yeah,” Marie smiled, relaxing a little. “Of course, Jubes calls them ‘tools of the patriarchy designed to reinforce the dogma of a misogynistic religious structure,’ but I like to think of them as cute little angels and stars.” That got a smirk from Logan. “Ya know, some people shouldn’t be allowed to go to college. I thought college was supposedta teach you shit, not teach you, you know – shit.” Rogue smiled and handed him a freshly baked cookie. “Here you go.” Logan took a bite, then nodded his approval. “Good. Would be even better with some frosting.” “Sugar junkie,” she chided, even as she opened the cupboard housing the frosting. “You know me.” Everything seemed to be back to semi-normal, so Logan stole another cookie. Semi-normal wasn’t great, and it wasn’t really even what he wanted, but it would do for now. “See ya around, kid.” Oatmeal Raisin cookies, or Nobody’s Favorites, December 17th, 3p “Now these – I dunno who actually likes this kind.” Marie had almost anticipated Logan’s interruption this time, and she found herself actually welcoming it a little. “Well, they sure seem to get eaten when I make them.” “Well yeah,” Logan allowed. “They’re there, and they taste good, but it’s not like anyone thinks – oh yeah, those’re my favorites.” “I kinda like them,” Marie shrugged. “With these, you can at least pretend they’re not so bad for you. I mean, they have oatmeal and raisins – those things are health foody, right?” “Health foody?” Logan’s nose crinkled as though she’d said a bad word. “Yeah, yeah – you don’t have to worry about that, I know. You have the luxury of just eating whatever tastes good.” “Damn right. Why spend your life eatin’ bad-tastin’ food?” “Because some of it is good for you. You might not like it, but your body would thank you for eating it.” “Eh, don’t matter much to me. And why not go on the all-cookie diet if ya can?” “Because what you want isn’t always what’s good for you.” The words had come out in a light tone, but they carried an unmistakable edge. They both knew Marie wasn’t talking about the cookies anymore. Logan pondered whether to let it roll or to address it directly. In the end, he decided on a little of both – Marie was avoiding eye contact and looking like she’d rather be anywhere but in the kitchen with him right now. He knew she hadn’t meant to bring his affair with Jean up, even obliquely. It had been the biggest point of contention in their friendship, and deep down, he knew that Marie was afraid of reopening old wounds between them. On the other hand, he knew that if he let it go completely, it would only fester, and it would always be in the way of the kind of relationship he wanted to have with Marie one day. “Yeah, I learned that one the hard way. But, cookies, you know – they’re not so bad. ‘Sides, you bake ‘em too good to resist, darlin’, even the ones that are nobody’s favorites.” She gave him a sad smile, one he didn’t like much at all and one that told him he hadn’t handled it as well as he’d hoped. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. They’re just cookies. It’s no big deal.” Turning her back on him, she focused on the baking, clearly signaling that she wanted to be left alone. Logan obliged, consoling himself with the knowledge that she’d be baking again tomorrow, and he’d have another chance at it. More Suitably Thanksgiving Cookies, but then again is there really such a thing as Thanksgiving Cookies?, aka Pumpkin Cookies, December 18th, 7a “You’re at it early.” Logan commented as he stuck his head in the kitchen doorway. Marie gave a smile and shrug and looked like she’d been hoping an early start would’ve allowed her to avoid him. “Smells good.” “They’re pumpkin cookies.” “Hmmm. Never heard of those.” Taking heart at not being immediately booted out of the kitchen or snapped at, Logan gingerly took a few steps into the room. “Are those more experimental ones?” “Kind of,” Rogue admitted, shaping a lump of dough into a ball and getting her hands thoroughly sticky in the process. “I think they need more flour.” “Are they kinda like pumpkin pie?” “Kind of,” she repeated. “You make them with pumpkin, of course, and pumpkin pie spices, so it tastes roughly the same as pumpkin pie filling, but it has a different texture and consistency. It’s – well, it’s more cookie-like.” “These’d be good around Thanksgiving.” “Instead of pie?” “I meant in addition to pie.” That got a smile from her, so Logan decided to press his luck a little. “Look, I kinda screwed up yesterday. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were an oatmeal cookie or nothin’, I was just tryin’ to explain – ” “You called me an oatmeal cookie yesterday?” She looked so confused that Logan realized he’d gotten what he’d done wrong a little – well, wrong. “No,” he answered slowly, “I didn’t get out what I was really tryin’ to say when you made that crack about me and Jeannie. I – ” “I didn’t make a crack about you and Jean,” Marie said quietly, looking back down at the dough. “We were talking about cookies.” “No, we weren’t,” Logan insisted. “Look – I know Jeannie was a bad idea. I know it hurt you and Scooter and a lotta people. It was a mistake, Marie, and I admit that. Can you –do ya think you can overlook it, let it go?” Marie was quiet for so long that Logan began to think she wasn’t going to answer at all. But then he heard, “I can’t let it go as long as it still hurts. And it still hurts.” He winced and took a step back, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, Marie seemed to sense it. “That doesn’t mean that it’s your fault, it’s not. I had – well, I had feelings for you, and you didn’t do anything to make me feel that way, I just did. It’s not your fault you don’t have the same feelings back. I’m just – I’m just having a hard time getting over it, that’s all. I just felt so much for you and I was sure that you felt – you know what? Never mind. I really don’t want to dredge all this up again. I’ve got to do something to fix the batter because this isn’t rolling into balls at all. Maybe more flour would – ” “I did feel things for you, Marie. I did and I do. I just…….back then you were so young, and Jeannie was – ” “Everything I wasn’t.” Marie stopped suddenly, and tilted her head to one side, her hands still occupied with the dough. “You know, I guess I am an oatmeal cookie – nobody’s favorite, but someone might have it if there’s nothing else.” “You’re not an oatmeal cookie, dammit!” The naked vehemence of Logan’s response startled them both. But then a moment passed, and they both broke down in laughter. “OK, OK, I give in. I’m not an oatmeal cookie,” Marie sputtered out between giggles. “You’re not a cookie at all.” Logan’s laughter died down, and his expression began to bleed into contemplativeness. “See, cookies – they’re treats, somethin’ sugary, somethin’ tasty, sure, but in the end, they’re really not somethin’ a man can live on. Even if you could go on an all-cookie diet, you’d get tired of it eventually. ‘Specially a man like me – I need real food, somethin’ that fills ya up. Cookies won’t cut it.” “What would?” Marie asked, growing serious herself. “Meat,” Logan answered without hesitation. Marie smiled gently at the not-unexpected reply. “You gotta have somethin’ with protein, somethin’ tasty but substantial. Somethin’ that don’t come easy – somethin’ you hafta hunt down and fight for. That’s what sustains a man. That’s what a man can live on.” He met her eyes, willing his point to get through a little better this time. “See – that’s what you’re like, Marie.” A little extra clarification couldn’t hurt, he figured. “That’s really sweet.” “Also true.” They stood there in comfortable silence for a few moments, and Logan began to think that maybe a few things had gotten themselves worked out after all. “See ya tomorrow, then?” “Yeah – in the afternoon, probably.” “I’ll find ya,” Logan assured her, setting off in a much-improved mood. Snickerdoodles, or, French Toast Cookies, December 19th, 2p “Smells like French toast in here,” Logan ventured, trying to use his senses to get a picture of Marie’s mood. He was fairly sure that their conversation yesterday had helped clear the air between them, but when he thought about the actual words he’d said last night, it seemed a lot less momentous. It couldn’t hurt to tread carefully until he knew what the lay of the land was. “That’s the cinnamon and sugar you smell baking on the snickerdoodles.” “Hmph.” She seemed like she was in a good mood, and happy to see him, so he ventured inside the kitchen a few steps. “Snickerdoodles? How’d they get that name?” Rogue thought a moment, then said, “You know – I have no idea. It kind of doesn’t make sense. There’s no connection to snickering or doodling.” Logan smiled at that, finally relaxing now that she’d made a joke. “They should called ‘em French Toast Cookies. That’d make a helluva lot more sense.” “Maybe,” Rogue agreed. “Do you want to try one? There’s some cooling over there.” Logan’s eyebrow raised in surprise, but he remained otherwise composed. This was a good sign – a very good sign. “Sure.” He plucked a cookie from the cooling rack and bit into it heartily, taking up half of the large treat in one bite. Chomping it with equal gusto, he finally proclaimed it, “Damn good,” through a full mouth. The entire display seemed to amuse Rogue. She handed him one more cookie. “Now go on, get out of my kitchen. You’ve stolen enough free samples for one day.” “You know where to find me if you’re givin’ away more, right?” “Danger Room?” “Yep. Knock first.” It wouldn’t do to have her injured by one of the holographic enemies that Logan loved pounding. That could put a crimp in their newly resurgent friendship and might impinge on Logan’s hopes for what that friendship might develop into one day soon. And worst of all, it could lead to decreased cookie baking. “Knock real loud, OK?” “OK,” Marie averred, shooing him out of the kitchen. Cappuccino Blossoms, aka Java in a Cookie, December 20th, 11a “Did Jubes put you up to makin’ these?” “No, Gambit. He likes anything with coffee in it, even cookies.” “Ugh.” Logan frowned in disapproval – not at the cookies, which actually smelled like some heavenly combination of cookies and coffee with cream – but at whom they’d been made for. That Cajun had been sniffing around Marie ever since he got here, and that was two weeks too long for Logan’s liking. If she was making him cookies, maybe that meant that she liked him sniffing around and, OK, maybe she was willing to patch up her friendship with Logan, but she might not be interested in anything beyond that if she was taking the time to make cookies for that damned swamp rat, or maybe – “Logan? You don’t like them?” “They smell fine, kid.” “But not good.” “What the hell does Gambit want cookies for?” Marie looked more than a little lost. “Uh…..same reason as everyone else, I think. They’re yummy. Well, at least when they turn out relatively OK. I mean, I’m no expert pastry chef, but – ” “Yours always turn out good. Um, listen, I gotta go.” The matter of having a little man-to-claw talk with the Cajun suddenly seemed very urgent to Logan. “See ya tomorrow?” “Sure,” Rogue said, staring quizzically after Logan. Does that really qualify as a cookie?, or, White Chocolate Covered Espresso Biscotti, December 21st, 4p “More coffee cookies?” This wasn’t what he’d hoped would come of his ‘talk’ with Gambit yesterday. Logan had been hoping for something more along the lines of another batch of his own favorite cookies, you know, something that would reaffirm his place in Marie’s life. But instead, she was right there in the kitchen, baking biscotti. “Hey – is that really even a cookie?” “I think so.” Marie smiled at him, but it was a knowing smile, and that put Logan’s antenna on alert. Something was definitely up. These biscotti were no accident. “They’re new this year too. I thought I’d give them a try.” “Cajun put ya up to that?” “No, but he did tell me all about how you took him for a little walk in the woods then tried scaring the living crap out of him. That was very interesting, sure, but it didn’t lead me to make the biscotti.” “Yeah, well what did?” “A recipe, Logan. I wanted to try the recipe. There’s no Remy-related subtext to these cookies.” “Oh.” Suddenly, his whole cookie-relationship analogy seemed very childish to Logan. Of course the kind of cookie she was baking had no bearing on their relationship or Marie’s relationship to Remy. Sometimes a cookie is just a cookie, after all. On the other hand, it couldn’t hurt to make sure. “I thought maybe you were tryin’ to, you know, win over that Cajun. He sure has been sniffing around you.” “Ugh! Thanks for that lovely mental picture, Logan.” Rogue shook her head as if to clear the vision. “But I’m really not interested in Remy.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “But you baked cookies for him yesterday.” It tumbled out before Logan could stop it, and he almost clapped his hand over his mouth even though it was too late by then. “Yes, and I baked sugar cookies for Jubes, and chocolate chip ones for Hank, and tomorrow, I’m making cherry ones for Storm and then I’ll make – ” “Hey, wait a minute – you made sugar cookies for Jubes? I thought she said they’re a tool of woman-hating dogma or somethin’.” “She did. She also said she’d prefer hers with colored sugar, not frosting.” “Hmph.” While Logan mulled that over, Rogue extended a cookie. “Here, try one. They’re crunchy, but you can dunk it in your coffee if you like.” “What’s this on it, frosting?” “White chocolate,” Marie corrected, turning back to her batter. Logan took a bite, then nodded his head approvingly and scarfed the rest of the cookie down. “You like them?” “They’re pretty good.” In his mind, they were still tangentially associated with the Cajun, and that prevented him from giving the cookies an open-armed welcome, but even given that, he couldn’t deny that they were quite tasty. “Not my favorites, but, you know, everythin’ you do is good, darlin’.” For some reason, Marie froze at that, dropping her cookie into the chocolate altogether. “What did you say?” “I said they were good,” Logan repeated. “No, after that – did you just call me ‘darling’?” “Uh, I think so.” “You’ve never called me that before.” She was looking at Logan quite strangely and he (correctly) interpreted that as the sign of something extremely good or something extremely bad. “Oh. Well, ah – sorry?” “No, no, don’t be sorry.” Marie’s gaze slid away from him and she began putting out pheromones that Logan quite liked but that had him a little confused. “I kind of liked it.” ”Oh, well, good then. I’ll – I’ll call you that again sometime.” He waved at her as he turned to leave the kitchen. Somehow, all this awkwardness had invaded his body and he felt like some silly teenage boy who’d gotten a smile out of the girl he liked and was on cloud nine. Not very suitable for the Wolverine. He really had to go before it got any worse. “OK.” Marie seemed more amused than offended, though, and she seemed to be suffering from a little of the same awkwardness herself – she bumped into the counter, nearly toppling her bowl as she waved goodbye to Logan. Cherry drops, aka Freakin’ Technicolor Cookies, December 22nd, 8a “Damn, woman, I can see those from over here. They’re just about freakin’ Technicolor. What are those?” “Cherry drops. ‘Ro likes them. But they do look a little weird,” Marie allowed, putting her cookie sheet down to meet Logan’s eyes. “Hey.” “Hey,” he returned, stepping into the kitchen. There was a moment of almost not-awkward silence between them before Logan took another look at the baked cookies on the sheet she was holding. “Wait a minute – cherry cookies? Aren’t cherries red, not green?” “Candied cherries come in both colors.” “Ah.” “So……do you want to taste-test one?” “Sure,” he replied, his stomach answering before he remembered what he’d planned to talk to Marie about today. “But, um, I wanted to tell you somethin’ first.” “OK.” She looked at him expectantly, and he shuffled his feet a bit instead of speaking. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a cookie first?” Logan shrugged and acquiesced, taking a cookie from the edge of the sheet and plopping it in his mouth in one fell swoop. While he was chewing, and trying to think through how to get the words out, Marie did a little talking of her own. “I wanted to say some things too. I – well, I think it was really nice of you to come by every day and to say the things you said – you know, about me being meat and you wanting us to be friends again. I want that too. And, you know, maybe more one day.” She’d rushed through those words in a blur, but Logan most certainly caught them. He stopped mid-chew. “I realize that maybe that’s not what you want, and that’s OK. I really think it is. It doesn’t mean that I won’t wish things could be different some days, but I think it really will be OK, and I miss being your friend, being your, um, best friend.” He still wasn’t chewing, just looking down at her. “Logan? Um, what were you going to say?” “That,” he answered simply. “Pretty much exactly what you said. That.” “Oh.” Both of them fidgeted, unable to get words out, each mulling over what the other had said. Marie finally broke the silence. “But – you’re not meat. I think of you more as bread. Strong, substantial – a staple. Something you have to have, something that is always there when you need it.” “Huh?” “You said you were going to say exactly what I said but I don’t think you’re meat – I think – ” “Oh! Gotcha. I, um, thanks – on the bread thing. That’s nice.” Marie smiled warmly at him. “Another cookie?” Logan nodded and took one, a smile spreading over his own features as he did. Filled Pizzelles, or, Cookies to test the patience of a Wolverine, December 23rd, 9p “Ya know, helpin’ you bake – a lot more work than I thought it’d be.” “Oh, come on, these aren’t bad. Making the pizzelle shell is the hard part. I’m cooking them and rolling them. All you have to do is squirt the filling in.” “They’re fragile. I keep breakin’ ‘em. I dunno how you have the patience for this shit.” “You don’t have to help me, you know. I can do it on my own.” She said it evenly, but Logan’s nose detected a hint of disappointment in her. It might not be a big deal if he left her to her cookies, but it would be a deal of some kind, and he decided it was something he could ill-afford at this delicate juncture with Marie. “Nah – I kinda like gettin’ to eat the fillin’ for the ones I break.” That put the smile back on her face. “Ah, trying to get free samples, are you? I see now – all those ones just ‘accidentally’ broke, uh-huh……” “They did!” Logan protested. Marie gave him a look. “Well, most of ‘em did.” Marie laughed, and Logan suddenly thought a little test of his patience was a small price to pay. Gingerbread Men, or, Gingerbread X-Men, December 24th, 11:59p “Hey – you said not to come down until midnight, and here you’re already done bakin’. I was gonna help again.” “I know,” Marie said mischievously, “but I really didn’t have a pound of dough to spare for a hungry co-baker.” “Me?” Logan said indignantly. “Hey, last time I didn’t eat any dough, just frosting.” “Uh-huh,” Marie soothed. “C’mere. Tell me what you think.” She guided Logan over to the kitchen table, to where the finished cookies were displayed. “Gingerbread men?” He asked. “Gingerbread mutants,” she corrected. He took a closer look and saw that she was right – the standard-issue gingerbread figures had been shaped and iced to look like various X-men and students. There was one covered completely in blue frosting save for little glasses and yellow eyes; there was one with all gray icing to emulate the steel form that Piotr took; there was even one seated in a wheelchair and iced to look like it was a bald man wearing a suit. Logan laughed at first, amused by what he saw and delighted with her ingenuity and creativity, but then it sunk in just how much work this must’ve taken. “Marie – you musta been workin’ on these all day.” “Uh-huh. They’re presents. I’m kind of broke this year, so……” “I woulda – ” “I know. I didn’t want you to. Besides, these are more personal, nicer than store-bought presents, in a way.” Logan said nothing, so she added, “Well – they’re one of a kind, at least.” “They’re amazin’.” “You really think so?” she brightened. When he nodded, she got a sparkle of mischief in her eye again. “Let me show you my favorite ones.” She led him around the table to the end, where two figures were sectioned off from the rest. They were decorated to look like the two of them, with one dressed in green with a lot of brown icing divided by a white stripe atop the gingerbread head, and one iced mostly in black, save for delicate gingerbread claws iced in shiny silver. They were nestled companionably together on a plate, the ‘Rogue’ cookie leaning gently against the ‘Wolverine’ one. “What do you think?” “I like it. I like it a lot.” He beamed down at her and she delighted in a rare, full smile from him. “Thanks, darlin’.” “Merry Christmas,” she replied, leaning into his side and giving him a hug. When he didn’t let go, she didn’t either. “Merry Christmas,” he returned, satisfied that for now at least, things were going as well as they possibly could for two mutants in love. |