Disclaimer: Characters belong to Fox and Marvel. No money is being made out of this story.
Notes: I brought Beast in, so it isn't strictly movieverse. But he's so wonderful that I'm sure you won't mind.
Logan had returned, his mind still in turmoil, his mood worse than ever. He was ready to be as prickly and irritable as ever, to throw a wrench in the careful choreography of the exalted X-Men.
Once he started paying attention, however, he stopped trying to do anything other than observe.
If you just watched carefully, it wasn't hard to understand why they all fought so hard. Why they risked their lives for one another, for the world in general. Of course, aside from the Professor, none of them were so absorbed in the pursuit of anything so lofty as the preservation of mankind. It was preservation of the people they loved, not just from Magneto and unnamed destruction, but from the pain of everyday life. The smaller details could become overwhelming, if an attempt was made to itemize each gesture. The little kindnesses ran rampant through the panelled halls, and their frequency was a kindness in itself ...
He watched.
He wondered how they could all think along such similar lines.
"Hey, Rogue, I'm picking something up for Jean at the mall. Didn't you say you needed to go shopping a few days ago?" Scott asked, an easy smile on his face.
Rogue jumped up, and the fact that Scott would be willing to take a teenage girl shopping was magnanimity itself.
But not all -
They walked out to the car together, the sun shining down brightly. The weather was almost warm enough to be balmy, even in the early spring.
"It's kind of chilly, don't you think?" Scott asked.
Rogue turned to look at him, a line of puzzlement between her brows.
He reached into his pocket, and then pulled out a pair of gloves. "My hands are always cold. Ever since I was little." He pulled them on, unlocked the car, and Rogue had to blink several times before she was composed enough to sit next to him.
They walked through the mall together, their gloved fingers occasionally brushing incidentally, and if anyone thought wearing gloves on a warm day was strange, they stared at a man and a girl, instead of singling one out.
Jean wore red more than any other color. It was interesting, because after all, her hair could have amply covered that end of the spectrum.
Wearing yet another red sweater, she chatted with Ororo over some toast at breakfast. "Jean, that sweater is quite lovely."
Jean smiled. "Thanks, Ororo. It's my favorite color."
Simple enough words, more than enough of an explanation.
She passed Scott in the hallway later that morning. Dropped a kiss on his cheek. "I love that sweater," he smiled into her hair.
"I like red," she replied, but looking into a gaze she couldn't see looking back, the words didn't mean quite the same. They didn't explain one top, but an entire wardrobe, assembled with a care that proved she wanted a certain person to always know what color she was wearing.
On an especially hot day, Rogue wore short sleeves. Her friends were tactful enough to be careful without making a show of it, and she was allowed the luxury of air on her skin. Nevertheless, it was a trade, because no one could brush against her, grab her elbow. Get near. Except-
"Aaaahh! Hank, put me DOWN!" she shrieked as he spun her around in circles after sneaking up behind her on padded feet.
With a layer of blue fur keeping his psyche where it belonged, he laughed in response, continuing to hold her around her middle. The annoyance in her voice did not match her smile, the rarest one, when something warm and alive touched her skin without harm. Five minutes later, after he had retreated to his lab, she could still feel the tickle of blue fur on her pale skin.
"He thinks he's so funny," she rolled her eyes with Jubilee.
She smelled like Hank for several hours, and there were thin lines of blue all over her white shirt.
(Happy smiles all over, too. Not just on her.)
"Is everything alright, Bobby?" Ororo asked, her normally placid face concerned.
He shrugged gloomily. "I don't really want to talk about it."
"Well, if you change your mind, I'll listen."
She walked from the room silently, and he sighed again, staring at his ceiling as he lay flat on his back. Storm was cool - she knew when people wanted to be left alone.
He sat and thought depressing thoughts for awhile, without clear desires or problems, just wallowing in the grey mentality of discontent. Finally, a sound from his window roused him from his thoughts, and he looked up.
The hail was light, not likely to damage anything. Just small pieces of ice falling from a white sky, tapping against glass, covering the school grounds.
He walked down the stairs to find Storm reading a book in the library.
"Hey, 'Ro, you're the weather goddess- did you know it's hailing? Ice everywhere. Looks crazy."
She looked up, her eyes soft. "Ice can change the way the world looks. Make it more interesting."
He smiled. "So, whatcha reading? It's not more homework for class, is it?"
No one left anything on the floor. Not books, not shoes, not hastily shed clothing.
Neat freaks, he had thought.
But after a short time there, he realized that wheelchairs do not manipulate very well on cluttered floors, and even his workboots were thrown (still muddy- he was Logan, after all) into closets.
"Hey, Wolverine!" Jubilee bounced up and down in front of him. "Can you cut this for me?" She held out a package that had just arrived in the mail, still wrapped in cord.
He extended his hand to help, but Rogue jumped up with a hastily exclaimed, "No!"
They both stared at her.
"There are scissors in the kitchen, Jubes. I'll get them."
She returned a few minutes later, scissors in hand, and Jubilee ran off with her box.
"What was that?" he asked, a rough edge to his voice.
"What?"
"You think I can't do someone a favor?"
She looked at him in confusion, her eyes wide. "No, it's just - you said it hurts. Every time the claws come out. You shouldn't have to use them if you don't need to."
He softened, then, and they sat back on the couch.
"Thanks."
To be kind on impulse -
He would stay. Not that he would change for them. No, he didn't change himself for anybody.
But he might change because of them, and sitting next to a girl who hated the thought of him in pain, he couldn't see that being a bad thing.
The End