Work Text:
Wild Horses
Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this story are the property of Marvel Comics. This fan fiction is a noncommercial work intended for entertainment purposes only. The story aims to entertain fellow RoLo fans and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights.
Ororo pushed her hair from her face, exhaling sharply as she squared off against her opponent. Moments like these made her consider cutting it short - something more practical, less likely to fall into her eyes at the worst possible time. But she knew better. Her long, flowing locks weren’t just a style. They were part of who she was.
As an orphan navigating the crowded streets of Cairo, survival had been Ororo’s only concern. Each day was a struggle - would she steal enough to eat, or would she go to bed hungry, her stomach aching in protest? There had been no time for dreams, no room for anything beyond the next meal. Her hair had been short then - practical, easy to manage, and harder to grab if someone tried to catch her.
But the Shadow King hadn’t needed to catch her physically. His grip had been far crueler, sinking into her mind, twisting her thoughts, turning her into one of his prized thieves. She no longer stole just to survive; she stole because he commanded it, feeding his empire of crime and corruption. Trapped in his control, she had no escape - until Charles Xavier.
Charles had fought the Shadow King on the astral plane, a battle of wills far beyond Ororo’s young understanding. And while they clashed, she ran. Terror propelled her forward, southward, as far from Cairo as her feet could carry her. She wasn’t just fleeing danger … she was chasing a memory. Her mother’s stories had painted a picture of her homeland, a place of beauty and belonging. Ororo had nothing left but the faint hope that somewhere in those distant lands, she might find a piece of herself.
By the time she reached the Serengeti, her hair had grown wild and unbound, much like the storms that now answered her call. Her powers had emerged with a vengeance, crackling in the skies, shaping the winds to her will. The villagers, awed by her abilities, worshipped her as a goddess. Her hair, once a mere practicality, became something more - a symbol of the power that set her apart, the untamed force of nature she had become.
Yet even among her worshippers, Ororo had never felt more alone. Their reverence came with distance, a pedestal that kept her apart. They knelt before her, praised her, feared her, but no one spoke to her as an equal, as a friend. They called her their goddess, yet they would not welcome her as one of their own. Even her home had been separate, perched on a lonely mountain instead of among them. It was a different kind of isolation, but isolation all the same.
Then Charles had found her again. She was thirteen when he arrived, offering something she hadn’t known since the day her parents died - a home … a family.
Accepting his offer to return with him to America had been the easiest decision she ever made. With Charles, she found the father figure she had lost. With Scott, she gained an brother - someone to share her thoughts and frustrations with. And though Jean had a family of her own to return to during holidays and summers, with her, Ororo had found a sister and a best friend. The three of them - Ororo, Scott, and Jean - became inseparable. Poor Charles suddenly found himself raising not just one Omega-level mutant teenager, but three.
They each had their own version of a rebellious phase, pushing boundaries in their own ways. While Scott and Jean snuck out to get matching tattoos on their ankles, Ororo took a bolder route - shaving her hair into a mohawk and piercing her belly button. Charles had nearly had a heart attack when he saw her, but he hadn’t judged her. He understood. It wasn’t just rebellion. It was a statement. A small, defiant act of control in a life that had so often been dictated by others.
In time, she let her hair grow out again. Not because anyone told her to, but because she wanted to. She had found herself, her place, her purpose. Her hair was no longer a reminder of the past or a mask for the present - it was simply hers.
Now, as she brushed it aside and readied herself for this sparring session, she knew that while shorter hair might be more practical, practicality had never defined her. Strength had. And this … this was who she was.
Ororo raised her hands in a defensive stance, her gaze locked onto her opponent’s every movement. She forced herself to focus, inhaling deeply, steadying her breath while her mind raced to pinpoint an opening. Every fighter had one. It was just a matter of finding it before he found hers.
But before she could plan her attack, he moved.
Her opponent struck with ruthless efficiency, his muscles coiling like a predator ready to pounce. In the blink of an eye, he unleashed a rapid flurry of blows, each one calculated, relentless. The force behind them sent shockwaves through her guard, driving her back step by step.
She tried to counter, tried to weave through the onslaught, but he gave her no room, no reprieve. His strikes were precise, predatory … seeking out even the smallest vulnerability. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breath coming faster.
Then one punch slipped through.
The impact slammed into her side, knocking the wind from her lungs. And even though she knew he had pulled his punch, the world still tilted. A second later, she hit the mat, her back flat against the cool surface.
Logan was on top of her, pinning her down effortlessly. He wasn’t even winded.
He peered down at her, frowning, clearly concerned about her lack of defense. “Alright, what’d you do wrong?”
Ororo exhaled sharply, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “I wasn’t focused.”
“And not being focused can get you killed,” Logan said, voice firm, almost scolding.
She scowled. “Logan, if this had been a real fight, I would have been focused.”
His expression softened - just slightly. Then, without thinking, he brushed a loose strand of white hair from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You wanna talk about it?”
Ororo willed herself to ignore the warmth spreading through her at the contact, the way her pulse jumped. Stop it, Ororo, she scolded herself. You know Logan only has eyes for a certain redhead.
“It?” she echoed as calmly as she could while arching a brow in question.
Logan smirked. He really should move and put some distance between them. Hell, he even told himself to. But there was something about her… something that kept pulling him in. Her scent, a heady blend of morning rain and wildflowers, was damn near intoxicating, but lately it seemed to slip through his grasp - as if the air around her shifted directions just to keep it out of reach.
Embarrassingly, Scott had once caught him subtly sniffing the air after she walked by. Scott, of course, had given him that judgmental frown, to which Logan had responded to with a middle finger. Since then, he’d been more careful about hiding the effect Ororo had on him. And his best defense had been to try to avoid her as much as possible.
And it had been a solid plan. Until Charles asked him to teach self-defense classes to both the students and the other teachers.
Logan had begrudgingly agreed when he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse not to. And just like that, he had found himself stuck with four classes a day, filled with whiny, annoying-as-hell teenagers. He’d rather sit through one of Hank’s lectures on the evolutionary impact of the dung beetle than hear another argument about which boy band was cuter or endure the endless gossip about who was dating who.
The only redeeming part of the whole deal? The evening class for the other teachers - or rather, the perfectly reasonable excuse it gave him to spend more time with Ororo.
Unlike the others, she didn’t just go through the motions. She wanted to learn. To be better. Stronger. She’d even volunteered for private lessons. Which meant they were spending more and more time alone. And damn if that wasn’t messing with him.
On one hand, it gave him an opportunity to learn more about her. But on the other hand, the more time he spent with her, the harder it became to fight the attraction that had started creeping in, slow and insidious, until it was damn near impossible to ignore.
He wasn’t used to feeling like this - off balance. Not around a woman. Not ever. Hell, he was an alpha male. Women didn’t make him weak in the knees just by smiling, and he sure as hell didn’t get tongue-tied when one flirted with him. Even Jean hadn’t done this to him. With her, he was in control - he’d flirt, she’d blush and pretend she didn’t like it, but they both knew it was just a game. Just harmless ego-stroking, nothing more.
But Ororo? She was different. Had him all twisted up, not knowing if he was coming or going. And damn it, he wasn’t sure he liked that.
Logan exhaled sharply, dragging himself back to the present. “You know… whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
Ororo flushed, embarrassed by her own distraction. “Actually, I was thinking about my hair.”
Logan blinked, then huffed out a chuckle before finally pushing himself up and offering her a hand. “I like it long.”
She took his hand, standing smoothly before taking the towel he handed her. “What is it with men and long hair?” she mused, shaking her head.
Logan smirked. “Hell, I dunno. Long hair’s just… sexy.”
She arched a brow, amusement flickering in her striking blue eyes. “So you think I’m sexy?”
Logan tilted his head, arms folding over his chest. “Fishing for compliments, ‘Ro?”
Ororo scoffed, tossing the towel over her shoulder. “A girl’s gotta do what she can around here.”
Logan narrowed his eyes slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She stepped closer - too close. He caught himself inhaling, drowning in her scent, his body reacting before his brain could shut it down.
“Let’s see…” She tapped a finger against her chin, feigning deep thought. “The first time you were here, you barely acknowledged me.”
She pressed a finger to his lips before he could interrupt. Big mistake.
Logan’s jaw clenched. The second her finger met his mouth, he had to bite his tongue to keep from flicking it out, just to see if she tasted as good as he imagined.
And fuck, how he had imagined.
"Since you’ve been back," she continued, completely unaware of the hell she was putting him through, "you’ve spent all your time flirting with Jean, arguing with Scott, and playing the cool, rebellious big brother to the kids. Meanwhile, I’ve been tragically overlooked.” She sighed dramatically. “I don’t think my ego can take much more of this neglect.”
Logan swallowed, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. “I noticed you.”
Ororo crossed her arms, skeptical. “Really?”
Logan shrugged, forcing his tone into something casual. “Sure. I’d have to be blind to miss you. I mean, how many Black women do you know with white hair and blue eyes?”
She shot him a mischievous smirk. “Just for that, I’m telling Scott it was you who put the empty milk container back in the fridge.”
Logan growled low in his throat. “You wouldn’t dare.” His voice held no real heat - hell, he didn’t give a damn if Scott found out. But he needed the subject to change. Fast.
Because if Ororo ever realized just how much he noticed her - every damn thing, from the way her scent deepened after she came back from sky dancing to the quiet hum of a song under her breath when she was deep in thought - she’d bolt in fear.
Not that he was stalking her or anything. But with his enhanced senses and his fascination with everything about her, he could probably write a damn book about her.
She laughed - a soft, lilting sound that sent something dangerous curling low in his gut. His instincts kicked in a second too late.
“Scott!” she called, already dashing out of the training room.
Logan let her get a head start. One beat. Two.
Then he took off after her.
And damn if he didn’t have to bite back a groan at the sight of her ass running in those tight training shorts.
Yeah. He was in trouble.
Two weeks later, Logan found himself leaning against the doorframe of Xavier’s office, arms crossed over his chest.
“Hey, Chuck, you busy?”
Professor Charles Xavier looked up from the report he’d been reviewing and smiled warmly. Despite being the world’s most powerful telepath, Logan still had a way of sneaking up on him.
“Actually, I could use a break.”
Logan grunted and stepped further into his office, dropping into the chair across from him. His usual restlessness was apparent - tapping his fingers against the armrest, gaze unfocused.
Xavier watched him for a moment before prompting. “So, how are you adjusting to being back?”
“Fine.” Logan’s tone was flat, clipped.
“And your self-defense classes?”
“Good.”
Xavier chuckled. “Ororo tells me your class is by far one of the students’ favorites.”
Logan only grunted; his expression unreadable.
Xavier studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled into fists before relaxing. Gently, he reached out with his mind.
Logan, is something bothering you?
Logan scowled, his eyes snapping up. “I hate it when you do that, Chuck.”
Xavier folded his hands in front of him. “Old habits.” He paused. “Is this about what you discovered in Canada?”
Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s Ororo.”
Xavier’s brow lifted slightly. “Ororo?”
Logan scrubbed a hand over his face, looking irritated with himself. “She’s… beautiful. Smart. Sexy as hell.” He muttered it like the words physically pained him.
Xavier’s knowing smile was subtle. “Yes, our Ororo is quite remarkable. Though, I was under the impression your affections were directed elsewhere.”
Logan leaned back, exhaling through his nose. “Jean? Look, I still think she’s too hot for the Boy Scout, but lately, I can’t get ’Ro outta my head. And it’s not just physical. It’s everything.” He shook his head, frustrated. “Even her damn voice makes me harder than—”
He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly remembering Xavier’s presence. The professor raised a single brow, his expression composed but with the faintest hint of discomfort.
"Logan," Charles said dryly, "a word of advice - no father wants to hear about the, ah, physical effects his daughter has on a man."
Logan smirked as Xavier’s expression softened, though there was still a trace of long-suffering patience in his eyes.
"That being said, I’ve always believed you and Ororo are two sides of the same coin. Both of you are children of nature - wild in spirit, yet deeply rooted in something greater than yourselves."
Charles leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "When you first arrived here, you were drawn to Jean - stubbornly, I might add. And while I understood why, I also knew three things. First, while there was an undeniable attraction, you and Jean share very little in common. Second, Jean would never betray Scott. She loves him as deeply as he loves her. And third…" A faint smile touched his lips. "As much as I may have been tempted to ask you to stop goading Scott with your relentless flirtation, I knew better. Some lessons must be learned in their own time."
His voice gentled. "You see, Logan, it was never really about Jean, was it? She was safe - a pursuit with no real risk. But Ororo… she challenges you. She unsettles you. And perhaps that, more than anything, is why you’ve fought so hard to ignore what’s been in front of you all along."
Logan frowned, his jaw tightening. “You been pokin’ around in my head again?”
Xavier shook his head. “No need. Logan, you project your emotions rather loudly … especially when Ororo’s in the room.”
Logan didn’t like that. His grip tightened on the armrest. “That obvious, huh?”
"Let’s just say, for a man who prides himself on his tough-guy persona, you unravel quite impressively in her presence."
Logan let out a dry chuckle. “Great. Just great.”
Xavier studied him carefully. “True love is a force of nature, Logan - stronger than any battle you face. Even wild horses couldn’t drag you away from what your heart truly desires. Trust it, and follow where it leads.”
Logan squinted. “Didn’t take you for a Rolling Stones fan.”
Xavier gave a small smile. “I have an appreciation for poetry in all of its forms.”
Logan sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he stood and began to pace around the office. “So what exactly am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, ’Ro, turns out I can’t stop thinkin’ about you… also sorry for bein’ an ass before’?” He scoffed. “She’ll probably figure I’m just lookin’ to get in her pants.”
"Ororo is quite perceptive," Xavier countered. "And incredibly forgiving. Give her some credit."
Logan exhaled. “Still. I haven’t exactly given her much reason to think I’m worth her time.”
"And yet, here you are, pacing my office like a man trying to figure out how not to screw this up."
Logan stopped mid-stride, scowling. “I don’t pace.”
Xavier’s smile was amused. “Of course not.”
Logan blew out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really think I should tell her?”
Xavier’s gaze was steady. “I think you already know the answer.”
Logan held his stare for a beat before nodding. He turned toward the door, already kicking himself for even having this conversation.
"Oh, and Logan…”
Logan stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
Xavier’s expression remained calm, but his eyes carried a quiet warning. “I don’t think I need to remind you, but Ororo is my daughter in every way that matters. And if you hurt her…” His voice lowered - not in threat, but in certainty. “I will not hesitate to remind you that I am the most powerful telepath in the world.”
For a second, Logan just stood there. Then, a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Damn, Chuck. Didn’t know you had it in ya."
Xavier merely smiled. “You’d be surprised.”
Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he walked out.
Contrary to what many believed, Logan could be a patient man - when he wanted to be. Especially when he was on the hunt.
His memories were still a mess, fractured glimpses of a past he couldn’t fully grasp. But over the last year, Charles had painstakingly helped him stitch some of the pieces together. He knew now that he had been a part of a shadowy government program called Weapon X. And that he had once worked for Nick Fury, hunting down some of the world’s most dangerous people - mutant and human alike.
So when Logan said he was the best there is, he wasn’t bragging. It was the cold, hard truth.
Being a soldier and, more often than not, an assassin had taught him patience. He had spent days, weeks, sometimes months watching his prey, waiting for the exact moment to strike. And now, after his conversation with Chuck, he found himself applying the same discipline to an entirely different hunt.
This was a hunt to win Ororo’s heart.
He would wait and watch.
And to his surprise, it didn’t take long to realize he wasn’t the only one caught in whatever this was between them.
For too long, he’d been too wrapped up in his own bullshit - flirting with Jean, provoking Scott, convincing himself that what he wanted was always just out of reach. He hadn’t really seen Ororo. Not like this.
But now? Now, he was paying attention.
Now, he caught the way her heartbeat stuttered the moment he stepped into a room, the slight inhale she took as if steadying herself.
Now, he noticed the way the wind shifted whenever they were too close. At first, he thought it was instinct – her unconscious reaction, much like the way she regulated the temperature around her to ensure she was never uncomfortable. But then he caught the faintest trace of her scent - morning rain and wildflowers, fresh and clean… laced with something richer, something warmer. Arousal.
And just like that, everything clicked into place.
She wanted him.
And she knew he would be able to smell it. But she had been hiding her arousal from him.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. She had spent the past year subtly shifting the air currents around them - not just out of instinct, but as a deliberate act of concealment.
Which meant she had been fighting this just as much as he had.
And that was all he needed to know. Suddenly, everything made sense.
It was in the way her eyes sought his out - unspoken but understood. It was in the way that, during missions, their first instinct was always to check on each other - wordlessly ensuring the other was still standing. And then it finally came - the day that shattered any lingering doubts.
The mission against the Acolytes had been going as well as could be expected – until the shit hit the fan. Logan had been up against both Frenzy and Senyaka. Alone, each was a serious threat. Together, they were extremely dangerous. He had managed to finally take Frenzy down, but that left an opening for Senyaka. The second those energy-draining whips wrapped around him, he knew he was in trouble. His healing factor fought to keep up, but it was already working overtime to mend his earlier wounds. And Senyaka, supercharged by Fabian Cortez, was literally draining the life out of him."
He had tried to fight, tried to move, but the pain was unbearable. His muscles seized, his vision blurred, his body betrayed him as he dropped to his knees. He couldn’t even unsheathe his claws to cut himself loose.
The last thing he heard before everything went dark was Ororo screaming his name.
When he came to, the air was thick with electricity, the sharp scent of ozone burning his lungs. The battlefield was eerily silent. The Acolytes, some of the most dangerous mutants on the planet, were down. Not by strategy. Not by teamwork. But by a storm - an unrelenting fury of torrential rain, gale-force winds, and a relentless barrage of lightning. A storm so wild, so vengeful, it howled with the wrath of a Category 5 hurricane, tearing across the field, scorching the ground, and leaving the Acolytes broken, unconscious, and scattered like debris in its wake.
Ororo was cradling his head in her lap, her fingers trembling where they brushed against his skin. She was shaking - not from exhaustion, not from rage, but from something deeper. Fear.
Fear of losing him.
No one said a word on the way back to the Blackbird. The others knew better than to comment, knew better than to draw attention to what had just happened. But Logan wasn’t oblivious anymore.
He noticed the way her hands clenched into fists when she thought no one was looking. He noticed how she sat rigid, her breath shallow, as if trying to regain control. And when he finally reached over… wordless, instinctive… and pulled her into his side, she didn’t hesitate. She just let out the smallest, barely-there sigh and melted into him, her arm slipping around his waist. And that’s when realized that he was in love with her and he was done fighting whatever this was between them. Now, he just needed to convince her to do the same.
After returning to the school, Hank and Jean insisted he visit the infirmary for a quick check-up, even though his healing factor had already repaired the wounds he’d sustained from Frenzy and Senyaka. He wanted to protest, but he also knew Ororo needed space. So, reluctantly, he let them fuss over him, all the while knowing exactly where he’d go once they were done.
By the time they finally let him go, the school was quiet, but his thoughts weren’t. Logan had never been one to second-guess himself. But tonight was different. The battle was over, yet something heavier still weighed on him. The thought of seeing Ororo - of finally laying everything bare - unsettled him in a way no enemy ever had. He told himself it was just the lingering adrenaline from the fight, or maybe the storm she’d unleashed. But deep down, he knew better. It wasn’t the fight. It wasn’t the storm. It was her.
She made him feel more alive. More vulnerable. And that terrified him.
Uncertainty was foreign to him—an emotion he rarely indulged. He always knew what he wanted. But Ororo… she was different. She wasn’t a fleeting desire, nor some unattainable dream. She was tangible, unshakable, a force as powerful as the elements she so easily commanded. And he knew, with every fiber of his being, that the moment he confessed his feelings, there would be no retreat. She would claim his heart, utterly and irrevocably, for as long as he drew breath.
The faint aroma of earth and jasmine drifted toward him as he neared the greenhouse. The warm glow from inside stood out against the cool night, an oasis in the darkness. Through the glass panes, he spotted her pacing among the greenery, her movements restless, her tension still palpable.
His chest tightened.
Even without his senses, he would’ve known she’d be here. This was her sanctuary - the place she retreated to when the weight of the world became too much. He watched her for a moment, taking in the way her shoulders tensed, the way her fingers trailed absently over the leaves of a fern as if grounding herself.
She was still carrying the storm inside her.
Finally, Logan pushed the door open.
Ororo didn’t look up right away. She stood near the tall fern, her back partially to him. “You should be resting,” she said softly. Her voice was steady, but there was something beneath it - something fragile, something held too tightly.
Logan stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. “Healing factor took care of it,” he said, his voice rough but gentle. His eyes never left her. “I’m more worried about you.”
She turned slowly then, her blue eyes meeting his gray ones. There was defiance there - familiar, stubborn. But something else, too. A crack in the composure she always held so well.
“I’m fine,” she said, quiet but firm.
Logan’s gaze flicked to her hands, gripping the edge of the table behind her.
He snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause callin’ down a damn hurricane and takin’ out a pack of mutants single-handedly is just another Monday, right?” His tone was gruff, but his eyes never left hers.
Her expression darkened.
“I did what I had to do,” she said evenly.
Logan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “And I ain’t sayin’ you were wrong. Hell, I’d be fucked if you hadn’t. But I know you, ‘Ro. You’ve been stewin’ over this since we got back. You hide it well - but not from me.”
Her eyes flashed white for half a second before settling back into blue. “You believe I regret protecting you?” she asked, her voice sharp. She took a step toward him, unwavering.
“Do I wish I had tempered my emotions? Yes. Do I wish I had left less devastation in my wake? Yes. But make no mistake, Logan - I would do it again without hesitation.” Her jaw tightened, and she held his gaze, unyielding. “I will not apologize for standing between you and death.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Then, finally, her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I nearly lost you,” she admitted, her breath unsteady. “And all I could think was that I had never told you how much I love you.”
The words hung between them, heavy and unshakable.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.
Then Logan took a step toward her. And another.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back away.
He let out a rough exhale, shaking his head slightly. “Well, ain’t that somethin’,” he murmured, voice lower now, edged with something raw. “Guess we’re both a little late to the damn party… ‘cause I love you too.”
Ororo inhaled sharply.
Logan watched her closely, saw the way her hands trembled, saw the way her expression wavered - just for a moment - before she forced herself to school it again.
“Logan,” she whispered.
She took a step back.
And in response, he took three steps forward. Slow. Unhurried. Like a man who wasn’t afraid anymore.
She shook her head. “Please don’t say something just because you think I need to hear it. You’re… you’re in love with Jean. Everyone knows it. So don’t stand here and tell me something you don’t mean.”
Logan let out a quiet, almost bitter laugh. “Jean?” He exhaled hard, raking a hand through his hair. “I won’t lie - I wanted her. Thought I did, anyway. But it wasn’t what I made it out to be.” He shook his head, voice rougher now. “Truth is, I was hidin’, ‘Ro. Chasin’ after somethin’ safe, somethin’ easy… so I wouldn’t have to face what was right in front of me.”
His voice dropped lower, steadier.
"What I feel for you, Ororo… it’s like instinct. No matter what, I keep comin’ back to you. And I can’t fight it. Hell, I don’t wanna."
She blinked rapidly, her throat tightening. “I won’t be your consolation prize, Logan. I love you - but I won’t be second best, not even for you.”
Logan’s jaw tightened, and without hesitation, he closed the last of the distance between them. His voice dropped, firm, unwavering. “You’re not second best.”
She swallowed hard, her gaze softening just a fraction.
“You’re my soulmate, Ororo,” Logan continued, his voice rough but sure. “You’re the one who haunts my dreams. The one who owns my heart. You’re not second best - never been. You’re the one I’d fight for. The one I’d die for.”
For a long moment, she just stared at him.
Searching. Testing.
And then, slowly, hesitantly, she exhaled, almost a laugh. “You never noticed before.”
Logan smirked, a low, quiet chuckle escaping. “I noticed.”
He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper now, raw with something more than words. “I noticed the way you laugh when I pin you down and tickle you after I beat you in sparring, even though you swear you hate it.”
“I—”
“I noticed the way you always smell like rain and wildflowers,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear, voice soft yet intense. “I noticed how your heart races when I get close.”
He brushed his nose along the sensitive spot just behind her ear, smirking when he felt her pulse spike.
"I noticed that no matter how late you stay up, you always wake up early just to watch the sunrise. And I know that when you think no one’s looking… you go sky dancing, naked as the day you were born."
She arched a brow. "You’ve been spying on me?"
His grin widened. "Spyin’? Nah. Just happened to catch you one night. After that, I made sure no one else got a free show."
Ororo shook her head, but there was a warmth in her gaze now - a softness, something unspoken.
“And what about you?” she asked, her voice quieter. “Do you think I haven’t noticed things about you?”
Logan tilted his head, the edge of a smirk still lingering. “Yeah?”
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest. “I noticed that, despite everything you’ve gone through, you have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.”
She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper now. “I noticed that, for all your grumbling, you never turn down a marathon of Stargate: Atlantis if I ask you to stay.”
A corner of his mouth twitched.
“I noticed the way you let the kids use you as a jungle gym, even when you complain about it.”
Logan huffed, shaking his head. “Brats.”
“And I noticed,” she continued, her voice softer now, “that you always stand in front of me in a fight, even when you know I can take care of myself. And…”
Logan’s eyes softened, his smirk fading as he waited for the rest.
“And?”
Ororo smiled, emotionally closing the last of the distance between them. “And I noticed that, despite everything - despite how much you fight it - you’re a good man, Logan. The man that I love. My soulmate.”
That was it. The one thing he needed to hear.
Logan swallowed hard. His gaze softened as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb sweeping gently over her cheek. And then he kissed her - slow, deliberate, deep enough to steal her breath.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.
“I was so afraid to tell you how I feel” Ororo whispered, her breath unsteady.
Logan’s smirk softened, his voice barely above a whisper. “Me too, darlin’,” he admitted, his lips brushing against hers once more. “But a wise man told me to follow my heart.”
He kissed her again, this time slower, like he was sealing the words into her skin.
“And it led me to you.”