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Title:
The Guy Code
~The Guy Code ~
~ Thou shall not rent ‘sappy’ movies ~
Logan contemplated the opposition. Three against two were shitty odds. Now if this had been your average street brawl and it was three of them against just the two X-Men – even with Bobby as his wingman – Logan would’ve been laughing right before he shish-ka-bobbed himself some assholes. However, they weren’t in some alley, they were in the video store and the three in question were Jubilee, Kitty and Marie. Kitty was currently waving a copy of ‘Kate & Leopold’ in Logan’s face while he was clutching a copy of ‘Black Hawk Down’.
“Get that ‘chick flick’ outta my face,” he warned Kitty with a small growl for emphasis.
“It’s an adventure movie. The guy travels through time,” Kitty said, not intimidated at all – he really had to work on that.
“Like in “The Time Machine?” Logan asked, doubting that it had anything even as remotely cool like the contraption in that movie.
“Well, actually….no. He falls through a rip in the fabric of time,” Kitty replied.
Fabric. Shoulda known. Martha Stewart probably directed it.
“Is there at least any fightin’?” Logan asked hopefully.
“Leopold put Kate’s boss in his place when they’re at a restaurant,” Jubilee offered.
Okay, that sounded promising.
“Does the boss fight back or does this Leonard guy knock him out with one punch?”
“It’s Leopold, and he doesn’t hit the guy,” Kitty said, “He just proves some of the things JJ was telling Kate weren’t true.”
“But no body parts get mangled in the process?”
“No.”
Christ, the guy must be Scooter’s long-lost twin. I keep telling him that a solid left hook is all some people understand, but he keeps insisting on acting like a hostage negotiator.
“This Leopold guy sounds like a pansy.”
“Not every movie involves bloodshed and the need for paramedics,” Marie chimed in.
“The good ones do,” Logan replied, looking to Drake for support.
“I saw the previews, it doesn’t look too bad,” Drake finally offered.
Dweeb.
“The rumors are right, you are gay,” Logan
said
to Bobby as Kitty triumphantly bounced off to the checkout and he
reluctantly
put ‘Black Hawk Down’ back on the shelf.
~*~*~*~*
~ If you compliment a guy on his six-pack, you better be referring to his beer. ~
Having just come from a workout, followed by a shower, Logan, shirtless as usual, was settling in to watch whatever he could find on ESPN that promised the most blood and gore. The added advantage of none of it being his at the moment made life very sweet. On one hand was a giant MeatLovers' pizza with his name on it. At his other hand was a six-pack of Molson's -- ice cold.
Nope, doesn't get much better than this. Unless, of course, it would be to have Marie curled up here against me while I run my fingers up and down her arm and maybe some other places.....
He heard the front door open and two bodies stumbled through it into the front hall.
"Mon dieu! De temperature way too high for Gambit out dere."
"Yeah, well, if you didn't insist on wearing black under that overcoat, it would probably help."
"Ah, oui, Iceman, but den de whole look be spoiled and Gambit got a reputation to protect. The cheres, dey just love a man in bla......."
Coming through the doorway into the TV room, he abruptly stopped talking, his eyes riveted to Logans’ corner of the room.
"Sacred Bleu! Gambit don' t’ink he ever seen anything dat look better den dat look right now! Dat six-pack look mighty tasty there, Logan!"
Bobby did a double-take, his eyes wide; sure that laughing at the expression on Wolverine’s face was the wrong thing to do. *SNICKER* Would you two like to be alone? Logan's eyebrows rose. Oh my God! He didn’t ‘hear’ that did he? No, no, he’s not a telepath. He couldn’t possibly have heard that!
"What was that, Cajun? I don't think I heard you right."
OhmyGod! Oh, wait. Whew! He’s talking to Gambit. Whew!
"Gambit say he never saw a six-pack look better den dat one look right now. Gambit don't usually care for dat flavor but today he'd kill for one little taste, even if it be Canadian."
Bobby nearly wet himself trying to keep from laughing out loud.
"Cajun, I think you better re-think whatever the hell it is you're thinking."
"Logan, mon ami, even you not be dat cruel! Gambit know you got plenty to go around."
"Cajun, I'm warning you. And I ain't your 'AMY'."
"Logan, please, it be so hot. Just one beer, dat's all Gambit want. Just one beer." ~*~*~*~*
~ A man in the company of a hot, suggestively dressed woman must remain sober enough to fight. ~
~ If a buddy is outnumbered, out manned or too drunk to fight, you must jump into the fight. Exception: If within the last 24 hours his actions have caused you to think, “What this guy needs is a good ass-whoppin”, then you may sit back and enjoy. ~
Kitty was the last one of the trio of girlfriends to turn twenty-one, so to celebrate that they could now legally buy drinks and would no longer have to sneak stuff from Logan’s stash, they decided to go into the city to the new club “Lucifer’s Playground”.
“You think you’re goin’ where dressed like that?” Logan asked Marie when she came downstairs in an outfit that looked like she should be standing on a street corner waiting for a *date*.
The black leather skirt was several inches on the wrong side of decent and the top she had on was nothing more than a black bra with crystal beading. The black long-sleeved shirt she’d slipped on over it was so sheer she might as well have not bothered. The fact that Kitty and Jubilee were similarly attired didn’t faze Logan – he was only concerned about Marie’s current state of dress or more appropriately, lack thereof.
“If we don’t look ‘hot’ the bouncer will never let us beyond the velvet rope,” Kitty explained as she teetered on the spiked heels of her ‘fuck me’ boots.
“Rogue don’t need to be lookin’ hot for a bunch of horny guys just lookin’ for a quick tumble,” Logan growled, his anger bolstered by the fact that the beaded bra didn’t appear to have adequate material to sufficiently contain Marie’s ample breasts and he didn’t want her ‘falling out’ in public and displaying nipplege.
Jubilee cracked her gum and rolled her eyes at Logan’s possessive caveman attitude, while Scott and Remy watched in amusement to see how the whole thing would play out.
“Five bucks says they go anyway,” Scott whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“Ten bucks say dey go, but not before de Wolverine has a complete meltdown,” Remy replied, noting the large vein in Logan’s neck had begun to color a light purple.
Kitty peered closely at Marie’s forehead. “Hmm, I don’t see ‘Property of the Wolverine’ tattooed here.”
“Or even a ring on the appropriate finger,” Jubilee added as she hitched her skirt up to the point that if she leaned forward, even slightly, she’d be showing everyone that she was wearing a pale yellow thong. Watching Logan’s whole face turn a deeper shade of purple, Scott and Remy both began a mental countdown to the inevitable explosion.
“I’ll buy you a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and the three of you can drink ‘til you puke right here at home,” Logan offered as he blocked the way between the girls and the front door. “Drinking your stuff won’t be any different from what we did last Friday night,” Kitty said before realizing what she’d just admitted and clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Wolvie’s not worried about the boozing aspect, it’s the hot guys aspect, right?” Jubilee challenged.
From the look on Logan’s face Jubilee had hit the proverbial nail on the head. He was busted.
“Here’s a thought, why don’t you go with them, Logan? That way you can make sure nobody hits on them,” Scott offered as he gave Remy a knowing nudge with his elbow.
“Ahem, that’s the point of going out,” Jubilee pointed out, then added, “Besides, Kitty didn’t just spend $38 on a new Miracle Bra for nothing, ya know.”
“Jubes!” A mortified Kitty whimpered as her cheeks stained pink.
“What? You think anyone really believes the sudden ‘Pamela Anderson’ décolletage is all you?”
Kitty turned a deeper shade of pink as Scott tried to suppress a smirk, which gave Logan an idea.
“You two get your asses off that couch, ‘cause you’re goin’ too,” he directed at Scott and Remy.
“Hold that thought,” Jubilee said, “No way are you three cramping our style.”
“Don’t place any money you can’t afford to lose on that bet,” Logan growled.
Jubilee backed down realizing that she was too close to the line you didn’t cross with the Wolverine. However, she did insist that he replace his plaid shirt with something more club-worthy. Remy offered to help him find something appropriate and they left Scott to make sure the girls didn’t ditch them. Ten minutes later Logan and Remy returned with Logan having changed into a clean pair of jeans and a light blue denim shirt that had the top three buttons undone – the deep ‘V’ nicely exposing his dark chest hair. All three girls just stood there staring.
“It’s de best Remy could do, cheres,” Remy explained, “He try to get de Wolverine into silk, but grouchy don’ wanna go there.”
“Silk is for pansies,” Logan said.
“Hey, I’m wearing silk,” Scott said as he stood up to show that he was indeed wearing a charcoal gray silk shirt with a pair of black dress pants.
“Thanks for provin’ my point, Scooter.”
Kitty let out a low laugh as Scott pouted.
They drove into the city in the Ford Expedition and spent an hour just looking for a parking space.
“I told you we shoulda taken a cab,” Jubilee whined.
“Quitcha bitchin’, you’ll still have plenty of time to get groped,” Logan said as he finally pulled the SUV into a parking space a couple of blocks from the club.
When they finally got to the club, as expected, the girls were ushered inside immediately and luckily for the guys a cocktail waitress was delivering a drink to the bouncer and told him to let the three ‘hotties’ in as well.
The group made their way through the throng to the bar where the girls each ordered ‘Sex on the Beach’ – a mix of vodka, Midori, Chambord, pineapple juice and cranberry juice – while the men ordered more ‘manly’ drinks.
“Would you like to try ‘sex on the beach’, Logan?” Marie asked coquettishly as she ran her finger over the rim of her cocktail glass.
The double-entendre was apparently lost on Logan because he answered, “The only time it’s okay to suck up a fruity chick drink is when you’re sunnin’ on a tropical beach, it’s delivered by a topless supermodel…and it’s free.”
Scott, who’d downed his second double scotch by then and was already starting to feel no pain, let out a laugh and then a hiccup.
“Remember de code - A homme in de company of hot cheres must remain sober enough to fight if it be necessary,” Remy reminded him as he slugged back his third shot of tequila and then pointed at Jubilee and Kitty who were now at the other end of the bar being hit on by a couple of guys.
“Don’t you worry about me, LeBeau, I’m fine,” Scott said as he went to sit on a barstool and missed.
Holding his hand out to help Scott back up, Logan said, “Yeah, sure you are, Slim.” Then turning to Remy he asked, “Whose idea was it to bring him?”
“Yours.”
“Oh yeah.”
Jubilee and Kitty were now out on the dance floor bumping and grinding and when Logan refused to shake his booty, Marie joined them. The guy Jubilee was dancing with got a little too friendly and she tried to get away from him. He followed her off the dance floor and grabbed a hold of her sheer lemon blouse hard enough to rip it.
Seeing what happened, Scott was immediately off his barstool and at Jubilee’s side. The guy told Scott to mind his own business and then he shoved the X-Men leader for emphasis. Scott responded by throwing a right hook that knocked the jerk on the floor. Two of the jerk’s buddies then pounced on Scott and a fight broke out.
Logan sat calmly at the bar sipping his beer as Remy jumped up to help his teammate.
Putting his hand on Remy’s arm, Logan said, “Where are you goin’?”
“He’s drunk and outnumbered, Remy gotta go help him.”
“After his little show-off stunt in the Danger Room yesterday, Scooter needs a seriously good ass-whoopin’, so sit back and enjoy the show.”
Remy obediently sat back down as Scott managed to kick one of his attackers in the privates. Both Logan and Remy cringed. Just then Marie came charging up to them.
“Aren’t you two gonna help him?”
“We were just on our way over there now,” Logan replied as he nudged Remy into action.
The two men stood up and joined the fray. ~*~*~*~* ~ Women who claim they "love to watch sports" must be treated as spies until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to pick a buffalo wing clean. ~
"Okay, now, let me get this straight. You think that I want to watch the game because I secretly want to spy on y'all? Why the hell would I want to do that? I like hockey. Just ask Logan over there." She nodded in his direction. He nodded back to her with an amused expression.
"Sorry, Rogue," said Bobby, who seemed to have been elected spokesman for the group of younger men. "This is a celebration of guyness. It's strictly a guy event that is off-limits to the women. You women have your 'girl's night out' thing that you do and this is a guy thing. You can't stay."
She glanced at Logan who simply raised his eyebrow at her. Either way he got to watch the hockey game. 'Course it might be a bit better if she was curled up beside him.
"I love hockey, Bobby. Please? I love the fighting and the high-sticking and the cute little butts chasing that puck around the ice."
"See, now that comment right there. That's exactly why you can't stay. If you want to watch cute little butts, go find another TV. This one is off limits for the afternoon."
"Yeah, but this is the big screen. And it happens to be the room where Logan is watching the game. Forget I mentioned the butts. What do I have to do to prove that I'm not a spy?" I do like hockey, but mostly I like it 'cause Logan does and I'm not spying on y'all, I'm trying to get to him, you idiot!
She flashed him the pouty, determined-to-get-her-way, Marie-look. Logan couldn't help but think he was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of it. He didn't have an objection to her staying for the game, in fact, he kind of liked the idea. He thought about saying something, but Bobby was laying out the challenge just then.
"Oh, all right. First you have to..... uh........ prove that you have ..... a working knowledge of the game."
He received confirmation from several of those present.
"I can do that, ask me anything you want to. And then?"
"What?"
"Well, you said that was the first thing I had to do. That would imply there was at least one other thing. What is it?"
"Oh, oh, right. You, uh, you have to, uh....." he was looking for help anywhere in the room and not getting any. Suddenly he spotted the platter of buffalo wings on the coffee table. Grinning triumphantly he blurted out, "......you have to prove that you pick a buffalo wing clean in one try!"
Marie looked at him like he was crazy. From over in the corner, Logan snorted to himself. Like that's gonna stop my girl from getting something she wants? Not likely.
"Oookay. I can do that. Now, ask me the question."
"Okay, all right, just hold on. All right, here it is: What is cupping?"
"Oh, please, ask me a hard one why don't ya? Cupping, for your information, is when a players’ hand illegally closes around ...……...the puck. Why Bobby, you're blushing, what did you think I was gonna say?"
"Okay, okay. What's Changing on the Fly?"
"That's when a team switches players during a play."
"Okay, you're pretty good, one more.... What's a Hat Trick?"
She rolled her eyes before answering. "The scoring of three or more goals by a player in one game. The term came about when the owner of a hat store in Toronto, Ontario promised that he would give a hat to any player who scored three goals in one game. Fans used to throw their hats out onto the ice to celebrate when it happened, but they don't do that so much anymore. I guess 'cause they didn't get new hats. Good enough?"
Logan spoke up from his corner of the room.
"Give it up Iceboy, she can answer any question you ask her."
"All right. Okay. But you still have to pick the buffalo wing clean."
With a mischievous glance and wiggle of her eyebrows in Logan's direction, she headed over to the table with the platter of wings. She picked delicately through the wings, discarding one after another until she found just the right one. She glanced in Logan's direction again and caught his eye.
"This one will do. After all, if I'm gonna do this I want something with a little meat to it."
He raised one eyebrow. Suddenly, he had a feeling that things were going to get real interesting. Sipping the beer he was holding, he waited to see what she'd do next.
"I'm assuming that y'all want to pay attention here so that nobody can say I cheated, right?"
When she had everyone's attention, she licked her lips. Then looking Logan right in the eye, she licked the length of the buffalo wing and opened her mouth. She put the wing in her mouth, wrapped her tongue around it, closed her lips and sucked hard as she pulled the now clean bone back out. Then she smiled at him and winked. You, know, for a celebration of guyness, it sure is awful quiet in here right now. Heh. I didn't even know Logan's eyebrows could go that high!
"Well, do I pass the test?"
Bobby managed to choke out, "Where did you learn to do that?"
"Well, sugar. I was raised to be a southern lady, but I sure as hell had a bunch of red-neck cousins."
"Oh. Well, uh, I guess you passed the test. You can stay."
"You know what, sugar? On second thought, I think I've changed my mind. Suddenly I have no interest in watching hockey. I think I'll try to find something else to do. See ya."
Logan waited all of sixty seconds and rose to his feet.
"Hey, where you going, Logan? The game's about to start."
"Just decided this game is a waste of time. These two teams ain't worth shit. Gonna find something more interesting to do."
"What!? Logan, it's the Stanley Cup playoffs, how can you.........ow!"
Bobby rubbed the back of his head where Gambit had whacked him.
"You looking’ to be a dead puck, mon ami? Let it go." Logan just grinned as he left the room. ~*~*~*~* ~ If a man's zipper is down, that's his problem --- you didn't see nothin'. ~
Logan and Scott were engaging in the Alpha-posturing that often took place between the two of them. They had just finished a session in the Danger Room and were headed to their various obligations for the afternoon. Logan was off to teach the 3:00pm self-defense class and Scott was headed into the class session he'd been dreading all week. He knew it was required by law now that Sex Education had to be taught, but he still wasn't comfortable with discussing it in a largely female class which was how this year's scheduling had worked itself out.
As they rounded the corner, Logan suddenly noticed a minor problem with Scott's attire. It seemed that Cyke had been so eager to continue the argument that he had forgotten to 'lock the barn'.
Marie was coming down the hall from the opposite direction. She reached them just as Scott was about to enter his classroom. She noticed the situation and was about to say something when Logan kissed her. She froze for just an instant. That was the first time he'd ever done that, at least in front of anybody else and she wasn't quite sure what to do. She blinked and 'unfroze' just as Scott entered the room.
"Logan? What was that about? I was going to tell him that his fly was open."
"Was it?"
She looked at him suspiciously.
"What class is he going in there to teach?"
"Dunno. I think it's sex ed or health or somethin’."
"What? You know he has a habit of leaning on the front of the desk and hitching one leg when he teaches. How could you just let him.....?"
She stopped when she caught the glimmer in his eye.
"You are so bad! How could you do that to .......
Is this the session that's mostly girls?
I can't believe you
"It's part of the guy code, darlin'."
"Uh……the guy code?"
"Yep, if a man's zipper is down, that's his problem.........you didn't see anythin’."
She snorted and hit him on the shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist and continued down the hall to the gym. Behind them, the door to the classroom was flung open and a red-faced Scott Summers exited the room. Pausing long enough to pull the zipper on his pants up, he started towards the front of the house where his office was located. From behind him he could hear whispering and giggles as the students that had been in his, now cancelled, class moved out into the hallway. ~*~*~*~* ~ The maximum amount of time you have to wait for another guy who's running late is 5 minutes. For a woman, you are required to wait 10 minutes for every point of hotness she scores on the classic 1-10 scale. ~
I've been waiting for that goof for over four minutes now. He's the one that's all the time throwing fits about being on time for the mission. Heh. Another thirty seconds and I'm gone. 20...10...5....4....3....2....1! Yep, that's it. Too bad the place isn't far enough away to call for the Blackbird. Pulling out now and, you know, just for the helluv it, I think I'll take his Ferrari. Always did like the way that machine handles. Heh, heh. Yep, there he is in the rearview, just coming out of the door, looking whupped. Don't know what she had you doing, but it's too late now, you missed the five-minute deadline. I just ain't a patient man, Cyke, you know that.
Oh man! Oh shit! There he goes. I told her I had to go with him. I told her he'd do something stupid like taking the Ferrari instead of the SUV if I wasn't there. I swear to God, if he gets grease on the carpet like the last time I will kill him. I will. I really will. And he better leave off those damn anchovies, too!
Okay, so maybe a beer and pizza run isn't a REAL important mission -- probably not gonna be a lot of ass-kickin' and life-savin' involved, but hell, I'm hungry, not to mention real thirsty. Sure my healing factor woulda kicked in if I starved to death waitin' for him to cut himself loose from Jeannie and her last minute list of "chores you have to do if you want to get any action tonight" but I'd just rather not go to all the trouble, know what I mean? * "You still sitting here, Logan? How long have you been waiting now? I mark it at a little over an hour. I thought you weren't a patient man. Couldn't have waited another ten seconds last night until I was ready to go. By the way, the grease is never going to come out and you owe me for new carpet. Next time use the SUV."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Why don't you just wander off and see if Jeannie's got something you can clean for her. I been here a while and you're starting to look like you'd taste like chicken."
"You better call that restaurant and tell 'em to hold the table. I just saw Jubilee and Kitty going upstairs and it looks like you could be waiting a whole lot longer."
"Grrrr"
"Of course, I guess she could have changed her mind......... decided not to go..."
"Grrrrr"
"Fine, fine, I'll just ask Jean to check that out for you."
"Grrrr" * "Logan! I'm so sorry. I know I'm really late and kept you waiting a long time. I'm sorry. First we got back late, even though I kept trying to get everyone to hurry up. Then I couldn't find the dress I wanted to wear until I remembered that Jubes borrowed it last week-end and .....well, I'm sorry."
Hellfire and damnation! Gotta keep thinkin', gotta keep my brain workin'. Down boy, behave yourself in there! Uh …. oh yeah, gotta say somethin' back.
"Not a problem, darlin'. Looks to me like it was more than worth the wait."
"Oh, that's so sweet. Thank you, sugar. So, you like the dress? You don't think it's a little too, uh, I don't know, a little ....... revealing? I mean it is kind of ... open ... on the sides here, you know, with just these little strips holding the front and back together."
Yeah, I know, darlin' but, hey, thanks for pointing that out. That sheer body stocking under there is looking pretty good too.
"Hell no! That's what I like about it."
"Just the same…. It's the most daring thing I ever owned. But, if you like it then that settles it, I‘ll keep it.."
Yeah, baby, I like it. Yep, it was worth the wait, every damn minute of it. Love that smile too, darlin‘.
"Well, then, I guess we better get going. Do you think they'll still have our table? I mean, I did put us behind about an hour and a half or a little better. You must be starving to death by now...."
"Nah, I called and told them we'd be late. Don't worry about it."
Oh, shit! Are you back again? Don't you have anything better to do than check up on me, Cyke? Hey! Put your damned eyes back in you head and close your mouth, you're drooling on the tile. Heh, if you looked this good last night, I mighta waited ...... okay, so that probably didn't sound right, even in my brain.
"Scott? Something wrong? You look a little pale?"
"Whaat? Uh, uh, no. Everything's fine, I was just, uh, just ……… well, I forget what I was just......... You look great, Rogue! Red is... uh, red is definitely a good color for you..."
"Grrrrr"
" *Ahem* Right. Okay, then. Uh, right. Let me get the door for you there."
"Did he seem to be acting a little strange to you, Logan?"
"Him? No, I didn't notice anything different."
"Well, I really am sorry about making us so late."
"Listen, darlin', don't worry about it. It's in the guy code."
"The guy code?"
"Sure. When you're waiting on your woman, she's allowed 10 minutes for every point she rates on the classic 1-10 scale."
"Oh, really!?!" "Yeah and, baby, you are definitely a twelve. You sure you want to go to this place? 'Cause we could still change the plans, you know. Like maybe having room service deliver something?" ~*~*~*~*
~ Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella ~
Logan had been at what he’d deemed ‘Xavier’s Haven for Wayward Geeks’ for just over a year now and had seen his share of action during that time. Apparently more people thought Magneto’s methods were more effective than Xavier’s and that kept the X-Men busy. By Logan’s standards Scott had even turned out to be pretty decent in a fight whenever he remembered to remove the pole from his ass and leave it at home. One night at Jack’s bar when a pool game with some bikers inexplicably turned into a brawl he even got his hair mussed and that pretty face bruised. Logan was beginning to have a tiny bit of respect for the guy when naturally Scott blew it and ricocheted himself right back to square one.
Logan and Scott had both been dragged to the mall, or as it’s more commonly known to women - ‘Mecca’- to give their opinions on dresses and accessories that Marie and Jean were going to wear to Xavier’s latest ‘attach a vacuum hose to his rich friend’s wallets’ event or as he politely referred to it, a fundraiser. According to Logan, guys didn’t *accessorize* - unless you counted a beer in one hand and a good Cuban in the other – so they knew jack shit about dangly earrings and strappy sandals. Most of the guys Logan knew owned a few pairs of sneakers and a decent pair of boots and that’s it. He said most guys because Scott owned dress shoes, something called loafers, and specific sneakers for different activities.
Yeah, the salesman at the Foot Locker saw you coming buddy.
Logan was standing in the shoe department of Neiman Marcus watching Marie trying to decide between two pairs of sandals whose subtle differences were totally lost on him. He wondered if anyone would really be looking *that* closely at the heel.
“Isn’t a dress that sweeps the floor gonna make shoe style sorta irrelevant?” he asked.
That innocent little question earned him a stunned look, followed by banishment to a bench in the mall, where he was now happily puffing away on a cigar.
Yeah, I saw the ‘No smoking’ sign, lady – blow me.
By the time that Marie and Jean were properly outfitted and accessorized and finally ready to leave it was pouring with rain. So being manly men Scott and Logan offered to brave the elements, go get the car and provide curbside pick up service. They were standing outside the south entrance ready to make a dash for the car when Scott pulled out an umbrella. And if that wasn’t gay enough, he angled the damn thing so that Logan was under it with him. “Wait here,” Logan barked at him as he ran out into the downpour alone. ~*~*~*~* ~ The morning after you and a babe who were formerly ‘just friends’ have carnal, drunken monkey sex, the fact that you’re feeling weird and guilty is no reason not to nail her again before the discussion about what a big mistake it was. ~
Scott cracked open one eye and thought someone was shining a mega-watt spotlight in his face when he realized it was just the sunlight coming through the window. He opened the other eye slowly, trying to adjust to the glare despite his glasses. When he tried to sit up the room started spinning.
Jesus, how much did I drink last night? What was I thinking when I challenged a guy with a healing factor to a shots contest?
He tried to remember what else had happened during ‘happy hour’ and seemed to recall there was dancing on the table and clothing removed to the tune of “It’s Raining Men” and………oh shit, that was him! He suddenly remembered Kitty brandishing dollar bills and then Jubilee waving his discarded briefs around.
Scott had caught Jean giving a private sex ed lesson to one of her students and Logan had dragged him out to Jack’s bar to get his mind off of his problems. He had the distinct feeling that it had only created a whole bunch of new ones. Turning his head slightly to the left he discovered that his instincts were correct as a lump under the comforter confirmed he wasn’t alone. The floor was littered with condoms. Too bad he couldn’t remember just how much fun he’d apparently had. Then a thought struck him. Running a mental checklist of who’d made up their little contingent for his ‘pity party’, he prayed he hadn’t been drunk enough to have gone home with St. John.
The lump moved and Scott was trying to come up with something that could get him out of this gracefully. He couldn’t even remember who his bed partner was, let alone exactly what they did, or if it was any good. How insulting was that going to be? The lump moved again and an arm came out from under the comforter. A slender arm with long fingers tipped with pale pink painted nails and a silver and turquoise ring on the middle finger.
Oh thank God, at least it’s a woman.
Then he recognized the ring, it belonged to Ororo.
‘RO!!!!!!! Holy shit!
Scott had apparently nailed one of his best friends. A woman, who even though she was a totally hot babe, he’d never considered any more than just a pal – a fellow teacher and teammate. That list would now have to be revised to include ‘comfort fuck’. She shifted again and the comforter was disturbed enough to reveal that she was naked. Scott lifted his side of the bed covering to see that he was also devoid of clothing. If Jubilee had taken his briefs home with her, they’d probably been hoisted up the flagpole by now. With a sigh, Ororo rolled over and gave him a really great view of a very nice pair of breasts, tipped with chocolate colored nipples.
Damnit, he should not be looking at her that way – not be thinking that they could do it one more time before they inevitably had the discussion about what a big mistake last night had been.
At that moment Ororo rolled over and flashed him a predatory smile. What the hell? After all it wasn’t polite to have a big discussion before that all-important first cup of coffee ~ and an orgasm. ~*~*~*~*
~ The universal compensation for buddies who help you move is beer except when being helped by a Canadian where a bottle of rye should be offered. Brand and size of the bottle is directly proportionate to total mass of unused weight set and number of stairs from basement that the set must be moved from and to. ~
“Beer? You’re gonna pay me in beer? For movin’ all this?”
Jubilee froze. A cranky Wolvie was never a good thing, and even if the fact that you were best friends with Rogue usually saved you from a claw-spearing, you shouldn’t bet your vital parts on it, especially not when he looked this cranky. However, she had no idea why offering him a case of beer – Canadian beer, Molson Canadian, in fact – in exchange for helping her move her stuff into her own room was angering him. Sure, she knew he wasn’t wild about helping her and Kitty move out, but he should be ecstatic about Rouge having a room of her own. “Yeah. Beer. Um, Rogue said you like this kind. Is it the wrong kind?” Logan only shook his head and pinched his nose, then rubbed at the space between his eyebrows. His expression was akin to the one you might see on someone who’d learned you’d just put the cat in the dishwasher to give him a bath or that you’d refilled your windshield washer reservoir with syrup. It was an expression that said ‘dumbass’ and Jubilee didn’t like it one bit. “What?”
“Yes, Jubilee, I like beer. I like beer a lot. But this is *movin’* - this is a job, and you’re payin’ me. We ain’t out for a social drink, kid.”
“And beer isn’t moving payment? I mean, dude, beer currency was always acceptable legal tender for all debts public and private for just about anything any of the guys helped me out with before…..”
“I ain’t just any of the guys.” “Yeah, no duh – you’re super-strong and totally mooney over mi chica Rogue. That’s why I asked her to ask you to move me, Einstein.” Logan let out something that sounded like a growl and took a menacing step toward Jubes. She backed up with an ‘eeep!’ and kept going until she hit the wall. Logan slowly advanced on her, pinning her with his eyes the whole time. “I meant I ain’t like the other guys ‘cause I’m Canadian. Ya know, what you Yanks know about Canadians could fill a fuckin’ thimble. America ain’t the only place in the world.”
“Um, so there’s some secret Canadian moving
rule?” Jubes ventured, still pressing
herself back against
the wall. “Yeah,” Logan confirmed, nodding for emphasis. “And I’m gonna teach ya it. But first, we gotta get somethin’ straight. I ain’t moonin’ over Rogue. I don’t moon. Got it?”
“Dude, you are like so totally in denial that I don’t even know where to – ”
“Got it?” he snarled, leaning a bit closer to punctuate his point.
“Yikes! I got it! I got it, OK? No mooning! Sheesh!”
“Damn right.” Logan forced himself to relax and back off a bit, rolling and cracking his neck. He thought he heard an audible ‘whew!’ from the young girl before he continued. “Now, when a Canadian helps ya move, beer won’t cut it. Beer – it’s like water to us, ya know? And not that diluted piss water you Americans call beer. I mean real beer, good beer. It’s our everyday drink, and it ain’t gonna cut it for special favors and shit, especially movin’. I mean, damn, you’re only one little person – but you probably got fifty times your body weight in stuff.” “Hey, I *need* all those boxes of shoes, and I’m going to use those free weights the next time I take aerobics!” “Whatever,” Logan dismissed. “My point is – if you’re dealin’ with a Canadian, we ain’t like no American guy who’s just happy to have anythin’ with alcohol in it. Beer – it’s a given. You want us to do somethin’ over and above the call of duty – and believe me, this was *way* over and above – you gotta do better than beer.”
“Better than beer?” Jubes queried, in a tone indicating that she found the very concept unbelievable. “Yeah, better than beer. Whiskey. Rye whiskey.”
“Rye whiskey?? Jeez, Wolvie, where the hell am I gonna get rye whiskey? Isn’t that what moonshine farmers used to make, like with homemade stills? Who drinks rye whiskey?”
“I do.” Logan growled, crossing his arms. “And I want a bottle – a big bottle, and of the good stuff – in the next twenty-four hours, or I’m not movin’ the other one of ya.”
“Kitty,” Jubes supplied absently. “Dude, how do I know what kind of rye whiskey is good? And I repeat – where the heck am I gonna get it? I don’t have time to drive upstate, find a farm, talk to some old, toothless dude and convince him to give me a bottle.” “Liquor store. They sell rye in the liquor store, for Christsakes. Anythin’ old or Canadian is good. Lotsa people drink it.” Jubes simply gave him a raised eyebrow. “Well, people with any taste drink it. Get some. Got it?” “Got it,” Jubes agreed reluctantly.
The following day, when Logan emerged from his room, he found a bottle of Rittenhouse Rye Whiskey at his doorstep. Not what he would’ve chosen for himself, but it wasn’t too bad. Hefting the bottle out of the hall and tossing it onto his bed, he set off to help Kitty move, smiling. Oh, receiving the proper payment for his services was pleasing to be sure, but the thought that made his lips curl was that at the end of the day, Marie would have that big room all to herself.
“There. That’s the last of it.” Logan put his hands on his hips and looked expectantly at Kitty. She slowly rummaged in one of the bags he’d carried over, clearly looking for something. Logan sighed. This one had the poor taste to have a crush on Scooter, so he didn’t hold out much hope of receiving the proper payment. He was pleasantly surprised, nay, astonished, when she produced a bottle of Lot Number 40 Canadian Rye. “Damn,” he sighed.
“I hope you like it.” Kitty extended the bottle towards him with her arm, but didn’t move her body. Logan quickly snatched it from her hand, eliciting a soft ‘yipe!’ from the girl.
“Hell yeah, I like it. This is some pretty good stuff.” He held the bottle up to the light, gently turning it, admiring the contents.
“It said ‘Canadian’ on the label, so I figured you’d like it,” Kitty nervously explained. “Jubes told me about the Canadian moving rules.”
Logan turned his attention to her, and gave her a feral smile, one that made the hair on the back of her neck and arms stand at attention. “Good job, kid. Thanks.” With that, he turned to go.
“Whew,” Kitty sighed, slumping down on the bed. “I’m glad that’s over. I don’t know how Rogue puts up with him.”
“All done moving?” Rogue asked as she opened the door to Logan’s knock. She could tell that he’d changed and showered since finishing up with Kitty.
Logan grunted in the affirmative, and moved to plop on her bed. “She had less stuff than the mall rat. Wasn’t too bad. Got some good rye.”
“Mmmm,” Rogue acknowledged, trying to appear nonchalant as she plopped herself down beside him. “Well, if you have any energy left, I was hoping you’d help me rearrange things in here a bit. You know, now that the girls are gone.”
“Oh, darlin’, maybe tomorrow, huh? I’m full up on movin’ shit, ya know?” With that, he reclined on Marie’s small twin bed, putting his legs onto her lap. “I’ll help ya move whatever you like tomorrow.”
Marie’s ever-present (well, around Logan) soft smile turned mischievous. “Well, OK,” she practically purred, as she leaned over to reach for her dresser drawer. Logan tried, and failed, not to peek at the cleavage she was showing. “But I felt kind of bad about not realizing about the Canadian moving rules and all, so I got a really good payment for you.” With that, she withdrew a long bottle filled with amber liquid. “Rye whiskey, sugar.” “Lemme see.” Marie complied, slinking down across his body like a cat, almost lying on top of him as she moved to hold the bottle closer for him to see. “Damn. Black Maple Hill. That shit is fifteen years old, Marie. It’s hard to find, and expensive.” “Told you it was a good payment.” Logan took the bottle from her hand and undid the cork with his teeth. Marie’s heart jumped a little when she felt his other hand come to rest on the small of her back, securing her to him.
Looking more than a little mischievous himself, he spit out the cork and took a long swig.
“Damn good.”
“Glad you like it,” Marie whispered.
“Best I ever had,” Logan replied, meeting her eyes with an intense stare. They stayed frozen that way for a few moments before Logan seemed to realize their position and proximity. He gently sat them both up, then offered the bottle to Marie.
“You sure you want to share?”
He nodded. “Just take a little bit. It’s strong.”
Marie did as he instructed, taking a little sip. She grimaced at first, then rolled the liquid around in her mouth, then swallowed. “Hmmm. Good. Burny, a little fiery, but good.”
“That’s how I like ‘em,” Logan smirked. “C’mon. Let’s go down to dinner, huh? I’m starvin’ from all this work.” “OK,” Marie agreed as she rose from the bed and slipped on her shoes. “And then let’s make a plan for moving stuff tomorrow, and maybe some shopping. You know, I could use a bigger bed.” That caught Logan’s attention, and Marie thought she heard a small choking sound come from him. “Don’t swallow your tongue there, sugar. Dinner’s waiting,” she teased, then headed out the door. ~*~*~*~* ~ A man must never own a cat or like his girlfriend's cat. ~
Logan looked around furtively as he started up the stairs. Okay, almost to the room. I think I'm gonna make it. So far nobody's seen anything. Having enhanced senses comes in handy. Breathing a sigh of relief , he shut the door to his room.
"There you go, baby. " Heh. Look at those eyes shine. Ahhhh, she's even purring, I think. That's -- that's just -- If anyone finds out about this I'm dead -- or they are. Heh, like that idea better. "You just make yourself comfortable right there on the bed, darlin’, and I'll be right back with a treat for ya."
A few minutes later he was rummaging through the fridge. Hmmmm, what would she like? There's gotta be something in here that would tickle her taste buds. Aha! Perfect! Now if I can just make it back up to …. Oh, SHIT! Why does he have to sneak around like that? Turning from the fridge, Logan came face to face with Gambit.
Remy looked at the plate in Logan's hand.
"Since when you start eating tuna, mon ami?"
"Ain't fer me" growled Logan.
"Ah, who's it for den? `Cause Remy know Rogue ain't here."
Still hoping to get away with it, Logan growled at him.
"It's fer her damned cat."
"Didn’t know she had a cat."
"Yeah, she brought the damned thing home just before she left on that assignment for the Prof."
"Ah, now she gone and you stuck wit’ it, huh? My sympathies."
"Well, you know, gotta keep the lady happy. If I let the damned thing starve to death, she'd never talk to me again."
"Remy understand dat. Funny t’ing. What she want with a furry pet? She already got you."
"Grrrrr"
Logan started back up the stairs. That was close. I'd never hear the end of it. Now, I just gotta get to Marie and let her know she has a cat before he does. He let himself back into the room and fed the cat. He laid down on the bed and within minutes had fallen asleep, the cat curled on his chest, purring.
A couple of hours later, the front door opened and a travel-weary Rogue entered. She took her shoes off and started up the stairs to the room she shared with Logan. Remy met her coming from the opposite direction on his way out.
"Back early, chere?"
"The information didn't pan out and I figured I wouldn't waste anymore time."
“Wolverine, he be glad to hear you back, for more den one reason, non? I don't think he be too happy about being stuck with your cat."
"Cat? I don't have a cat."
A devilish gleam appeared in the Cajun's eyes. That didn’t bode well for somebody. She heard him mutter something about Logan and ‘breakin‘ de code’ as he went on out the door.
Now, why in the world would he think I had a cat?
Totally
mystified,
she started back up the stairs to their room. Apparently
Logan had some explaining to do. ~*~*~*~* ~ Before dating a buddy's ex, you are required to ask his permission and he, in return is required to grant it. ~
“Hey. I, uh, I was wondering if you would mind me, um, you know, ah, asking Kitty out.”
Bobby’s eyes peeled open wide and both his jaw and the can of soda he’d been holding dropped to the floor. Sure, it was commonly understood – well, between guys – that if you wanted to hit on someone else’s ex-girlfriend, the proper procedure (men didn’t use the word ‘etiquette’) was to ask the guy in question before making a move. Heck, with the close-knit bunch at the mansion, that rule was probably acted out on a weekly basis – everyone was someone else’s ex, and it was well nigh impossible to avoid at least a little interpersonal messiness. In fact, this wasn’t the first time Bobby had been approached for clearance to date Kitty – far from it. She was, after all, an attractive and well-liked girl. No, Bobby’s shock wasn’t from the question itself – it was who was doing the asking.
“You see,” Scott continued, as he bent down to help blot up the spilled soda with some napkins, “I know that – that you and Kitty had more than a casual relationship in the past, and that you dated for quite some time. I thought it would be appropriate to – ”
“She’s your student!” Bobby blurted out.
“Well, she was. She’s been – well, she’s been out of my classes for quite some time now, and she’s twenty-one. I mean, it’s been over four years since I taught her. I realize that there’s an age difference, but – but – ”
“She’s Kitty!” Bobby argued, leaving Scott more than a little confused.
“Ah, yes, she is.”
Bobby shook his head, seemingly in an attempt to attain better cooperation from his brain. “She’s *Kitty*. She’s a junior X-Man. She’s – she’s on the junior team and you are on the main team. You’re the leader of the main team for goodness sakes! You can’t date her – that’s like – like – mixing universes or something! It’s just not done! St. John, Remy, any – any of the guys on the same team with her – fine, I don’t have a problem with it. I like Kitty and we’ve stayed friends and she deserves to be happy. But, Scott – you’re – you’re, like in a whole different league, and I’m not talking about the age difference. You’re the leader of the *main* team, she’s on the junior team. You’ve seen real battles and death and everything – Kitty’s only seen that kind of stuff simulated in the Danger Room. You’re pushing thirty, and she’s barely twenty-one. You’re – you’re a formerly engaged guy – a formerly engaged to *Dr. Grey* guy! And she’s – she’s only had four boyfriends, that’s it. Scott, you used to live with Dr. Grey – you’ve seen her naked! You’re used to getting all kinds of regular sex with a hot babe! Kitty’s – she’s – well, she’s never – uh, she’s not – um – you know what I mean! It’s wrong, it’s just wrong!”
Scott exhaled a long sigh, and squared his shoulders. “Bobby, I understand all of those points, I do, and I can only assure you that I will be respectful of Kitty. It’s only a date, Bobby.”
“Scott,” Bobby’s tone darkened, “you know she’s had a crush on you for ages. It’s not just a date to her – it’s like her fantasy come true. She’s going to be putty in your hands, and you know it. If you’re – if you’re using her to boost your ego or to get over Dr. Grey, well – you’d better develop a liking for having your private parts frozen because she doesn’t deserve that.”
“It’s not that,” Scott reassured. “Believe me, I’ve quizzed myself about those
same
things. The truth is, Bobby, that I really
just
– I like her. I do. I’d
be interested in getting to know her better, on a social level.” “On a dating level,” Bobby countered, still giving Scott a bit of the stink-eye. “Yes.” Scott
fidgeted a bit. “So, do I have your
permission?” Bobby grumbled and huffed. He knew well what the other half of the rule was – sure, your guy friends had to ask for your permission to date your ex, but you were also obligated to give it. There was simply no saying no, and Bobby knew it. Of course, he thought, that didn’t mean that he had to give Scott an easy time of it. “I guess so. But I swear, if you do something to screw her over, I’m gonna be on your doorstep, asking about Dr. Grey in no time.” Scott’s eyebrows jutted toward his hairline, leaving their temporary concealment behind his protective glasses. “Deal,” he choked out, then left, permission in hand, to approach Kitty. ~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The
Guy
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