Playing with Fire

CHAPTER 19 - OUT OF THE WOODS
(working title)

It was all Kitty could do to remain still and silent as the words were ripped from him - almost, it seemed, against his will. She wanted to be able to close her eyes and ears, to block it out. But it was like watching a train wreck - she couldn't tear her gaze away as he struggled to find the words to describe a nightmare made real. Both his tears and his rage had disappeared long before his story even began, and she was left with the uncomfortable realization that they had been not for the pain of his past but for her, for forcing him to this. Now all he seemed to have left was a thick, choking shame and the agony of remembered pain. She could hear it in every word, and it tore at her heart like nothing else. It would be better, somehow, if he'd cry. She didn't know why, but she felt sure that it would be, somehow - for her if not for him.

And so she sat, tears streaming down her cheeks, almost in compensation for the ones he wouldn't - or couldn't - shed, as her heart grew tighter with every word he spoke. She was afraid that if she interrupted or distracted him he'd stop and, painful as it was to listen to, she was certain that he needed the release. The way the words tumbled to escape him was proof enough of that.

She couldn't stifle a gasp when he spoke of his tail though. It had been hard, so hard, to sit back and listen in silence, knowing that somehow she'd pushed him to this. No matter how...cathartic...it might be in the end, *she* had brought out this pain, dragged it from wherever he'd had it tucked away and forced him to confront it...and relive it. But now, knowing *exactly* what had caused it, what she'd triggered, her heart lurched and skipped a beat. It was too much. Worse still was the way he shrank away at the sound, barely moving yet somehow folding in on himself. She wanted to reach out, comfort him, but she didn't know how.

Her resolve finally broke with the quiet anguish in his voice when he spoke of that animal's depravity as _bestiality_. She couldn't let that pass, couldn't stay silent in the face of his quiet, pained acceptance of that term and the self-loathing it implied. Impulsively, she reached out to still the steady rocking he'd begun as he spoke of that _animal's_ choice of a new victim. It didn't escape her notice that he hadn't shed another tear until he spoke of the violation of another.

"You're *not* an animal Kurt. *He* was the animal. Not you, Kurt...*never* you." She couldn't even bring herself to validate that ugly word by repeating it. This was the closest she could bring herself to what she wanted to say, what she _hoped_ he heard.

He didn't look up, didn't move, as her hand rested, quivering slightly, on his bare shoulder. When he spoke again, she could barely make out the words - soft and obviously not intended for her ears - and they sent a chill down her spine.

She let her hand drift up to stroke lightly at his cheek, her thumb brushing tentatively at the tear matted fur before seizing firmly on his chin and forcing his head up to meet her eyes.

"You are *not* soiled," she hissed fiercely at him, her voice still husky with tears. "Don't you *dare* say that." She willed him to see the truth of what she said in her eyes. _Oh please let him see._

Golden eyes glazed with pain, he stared blankly at her, not seeming to register her words. He didn't resist her touch though, and continued to meet her gaze. That was somewhere to start. Lifting her hand she caressed his damp cheek and tried again.

"You are *not* soiled Kurt. What that *animal* did to you was...disgusting." She had to stop as her voice broke and it was a long moment before she could go on - a moment during which he merely stared at her, seemingly transfixed.

"*He* was...is...disgusting Kurt, *not* you and *nothing* he did...or said...can ever make you any...any less than you are. My God, you were just...just a baby." Her voice caught again, tears pricking at her eyes, as the image of Kurt as a frightened, confused little boy seared itself into her mind's eye. How had he come out of that whole? How had no one seen, protected him?

She stifled a sob and instead trailed her hand softly along the velvet of his tense jaw as she continued, searching his eyes for any indication that what she said was getting through. "You're better...and stronger than...than what he did to you...and more *human* than that monster could ever dream of being."

Reaching out with her other hand she caught one of his where it still lay clenched on his knees. "And you are beautiful." Her voice was almost a whisper as she twined her fingers with his, fitting them together with none of the awkwardness the disparity of digits might have caused.

He shook his head slightly, but never dropped his gaze. His eyes were glittering with a new mixture of emotions now. The shame and fear hadn't faded completely, but mingled with them was a surprise that nearly broke her heart - surprise that she was still here, still speaking to him - and the first faint stirring of hope.

Kurt didn't resist as she tugged him gently towards her, as she pressed her lips to his in a soft, chaste kiss - at least that's what she'd intended. Gentle reassurance that nothing he had said could drive her away or change her feelings for him. But when she felt his lips, so warm and hesitant against her own, her previous intentions blew away like so many petals on the wind. The hand that had rested on his cheek slipped around to settle on the back of his neck, holding him to her as she poured all the passion, love and need she felt for him into that one tenuous point of contact. Hoping to show him with actions what she had no idea how to convey in words.

She didn't know whether it was right or not. She wasn't a psychologist or a telepath and for all she knew this was the worst possible response she could give. But everything told her otherwise. Whether it was perverse and twisted, or a healthy and life-affirming response she couldn't say. She could only hope that he wanted, needed, the comfort of her body and her love as badly as she needed his right now.

Seconds slipped away as her heart beat an erratic tattoo against her ribs and he neither pulled away nor responded - she wasn't even sure he was breathing. She was beginning to have the horrifying feeling that she'd made a dreadful mistake.

_Oh God, he doesn't think that stuff turned me *on*? No. Oh God no!_

She was about to pull back, ashamed of her body's response to him now, of all times. How could she have thought this was the right thing to do? How could...and then his lips moved against hers, gentle and hesitant in a way he'd never been before, but warm and accepting and oh so soft.

Without a thought she parted her lips and darted her tongue out to taste him - the bitter salt of tears mingling with the musky sweetness she'd come to think of as *him*. He moaned then and reached a hand up to rest tentatively on her hip as his tongue slipped out to meet hers, warm and sweet and gently seeking against her own.



He couldn't believe it at first. That she hadn't pulled away, hadn't run from him in horror and disgust. And then he realized - pity, it must be pity that held her there. Sickened but too kind to leave him alone with his demons in the encroaching dark. Oh Gott, he didn't want her pity! Anything but that.

Anger. Disgust. Hatred. Fear. These he could deal with, had dealt with all his life. Perhaps not well, in retrospect, but they were the constants of his existence and he could deflect them well enough most days. But pity.... Oh Gott, to see that in her eyes every time she looked at him. He crushed an anguished sob before it could escape. He would *not* give her any more fuel. The show was over. If he sat here long enough she would certainly leave him in peace.

But no, that was asking too much apparently - that he be left with some last, feeble shred of dignity. Her hand had moved from his shoulder, brushing oddly at his cheek before seizing his chin in a determined grip. He didn't have the energy to resist as she forced his head up. Let her get whatever she felt compelled to do over with. The sooner she was done, the sooner she would let him be alone with his misery.

He barely even registered her voice at first, letting her words wash over him as he stared at hlanklankly. He tried to ignore the painful familiarity of her touch on his face. It meant nothing - not now that he'd ruined everything.

He wanted to close his eyes. To pretend for a moment that the caress was something he was certain it would never be again. But her gaze held him transfixed with its intensity as her words washed over him and the stretching shadows mirrored the darkness of his mood. It was, in the end, that very intensity that broke through the haze of self-loathing that enveloped him. Her fierce blue eyes seemed to bore into his soul and, as they held him riveted, he finally began to realize that they held none of the revulsion he'd expected to face. Concern was there as well as pain and...anger? But none of the shrinking disgust or the obligation born of pity he had feared and anticipated. He felt a spark of surprise and the first vague stirrings of hope as she clutched his hand in hers.

_Beautiful? She thinks me...beautiful? Nein, but...nein._ He shook his head in silent disbelief, his eyes never leaving hers.

He couldn't seem to move, couldn't resist her in any way as she tugged him gently to her. The touch of her lips on his, soft and warm and oh so sweet, was torture. That was, after all, beyond hoping for. It was the chaste kiss of a friend. Reassurance, nothing more. But still, so *much* more than he had ever expected from her again. His heart almost stopped with the shock of it when the cool, gentle brush of her lips became something entirely different, heated and demanding.

Oh Gott, there was nothing chaste in how her lips were moving against his, in the warm press of her hand on his neck. He couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. Couldn't believe that this was really happening. Or, more likely, afraid to believe it. He wanted her so badly, wanted everything he'd never thought she'd offer him again. His fogged brain struggled to process something so unexpected and for what felt like an eternity he remained frozen, expecting the delusion to end at any moment. But it didn't end and her lips on his were warm, sweet and insistent. Finally, hesitantly, he let himself respond.

He couldn't suppress a strangled moan as her lips parted beneath his, her tongue caressing him in an invitation he couldn't resist. And oh, the taste of her and then the feel of her beneath his hand as he reached to grasp her hip. His hesitation dropped rapidly away as she responded to his touch, drawing closer and pressing eagerly into him. He couldn't believe it. She seemed to want, even need, him as much as he did her. If this was a dream, then he didn't ever want to wake from it.

Without any conscious intent he crushed her to him, his hands and mouth roving over her with almost desperate passion as he lowered her to lie on the soft loam beneath h He He felt a vague tickle at the back of his mind as he knelt over her, gazing down at the bare flesh where her still open shirt fell away. A tickle that was easily ignored and quickly forgotten in the eager fumbling of her hands at his pants as he struggled to divest her of her own.

There was little of tenderness in what they did, but much of need. Both too frantic for the reassurance of the other's body to care for anything beyond the need to touch, to *feel* something, anything, other than pain.

Kurt groaned as he entered her, one swift thrust to sheath himself in her welcoming heat. And then there was nothing in his world but the feel of her moving beneath and around him, the rhythm of his thrusts erratic and desperate as he whispered his love for her like a mantra. A mantra that rapidly dissolved into incoherent gasps and moans as his world exploded and he slid over the edge into ecstasy. For an endless moment everything - everything - was washed away in the white heat of his release. And then, too soon, the world came rushing back.

"Traurig, meine liebe," he groaned hoarsely into the sweat-damp flesh of her temple as he collapsed against her, trembling with reaction. Gott, what he wouldn't give to have been able to bring her with him. The thought that he'd failed her, disappointed her, ate at him already. "Ich bin sehr traurig...." His voice came out an agonized whisper, almost lost in the sounds of their labored breathing.

"Ssshhh," she murmured, voice thick and breath warm against his throat. She raised a hand gently to his lips.

"No apologies. You gave me all I needed." Her hands slipped up to trace along the muscular planes of his back and shoulders, touching, caressing...exploring as she spoke. His eyes slipped shut as skin shuddered and muscles rippled at her touch.

"Besides," and he could hear the smile in her voice. "You can make it up to me next time."

His heart seemed to stop in his chest, then turn slowly over at her words. At the simple, unquestionable love behind them. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that suddenly stung at them. Not tears of pain, but of gratitude for the gift of her love and friendship. The sheer, unlooked for miracle of her understanding.

"Ach Gott, ich liebe dich Kaetzchen," he choked out around a sudden obstruction in his throat.

"I know Fuzzy. I love you too."


It was one of the first truly warm evenings of spring and they lay in each other's arms as the shadows lengthened into darkness, taking what comfort they could find after the emotional roller-coaster of the afternoon. She protested his terminology, but not his intent when he insisted on making it up to her for his earlier 'failing' and by the time darkness fell in earnest they were both exhausted, their passion at least temporarily spent.

After, she'd lain with her head pillowed on his shoulder, watching through the sparse canopy of leaves above as the first stars appeared in the darkening sky. They'd spoken of inconsequential things, both too wary of disturbing the fragile peace they'd muddled their way to by touching on anything significant. Mostly, though, they had lain, naked and content in each others arms, as the world spun away around them. It was enough just to _be_.

It had been some time since she'd heard any sound besides the hushed sighing of the wind through the trees and the muted rumble of his contented purr. She jumped slightly when his voice broke through the silence, gentle and regretful.

"We should be getting back Kaetzchen, before they decide to come looking for us, ja?" His arm tightened around her shoulders and she snuggled further into the velvet warmth of his embrace.

"Don't want to," she murmured, trying, without notable success, to keep the petulance from her voice. A warm chuckle as he tightened his grip on her shoulders was his only reply.

"I know, I know I'm being childish. I just wish we didn't have to. But you're right, I suppose." And he was. They'd missed dinner long before, and their continued absence had, doubtless, been duly noted. There'd be questions to answer when they Got back.

_Aw shit, life goes on._

"Ja liebe. After all, I don't know about you, but having Scott walk in on us en flagrante delicto once was really one more time than I ever needed *that* to happen. I'd rather not have to face down a search party in my current state of undress." She could _hear_ his grin as he spoke and she loved the gentle humor in his voice.

"Fine then," and she rose reluctantly to her feet, surreptitiously admiring the easy, fluid grace of his movements as he did likewise. He caught her sidelong glance and raised one slender blue-black eyebrow at her.

"Was there something Liebechen? You know you *are* allowed to look - it comes with the being allowed to touch bit," he assured her, smirking just a little and eyes twinkling with obvious amusement that he'd 'caught' her looking.

"Not really Fuzzy," she responded, a slow blush creeping up her cheeks. "Just thinking how there's really _nothing_ dignified about a naked guy," and she grinned impishly at him. _This is ridiculous, I've slept with him...how many times? Faced down Dr. McCoy over birth-control and Scott over having sex, but it embarrasses me to see him naked? Okay, at least to be *caught* looking anyway. Jeez, grow up already Pryde!_

"Ach, you wound me Liebe! Not dignified?" She couldn't help but laugh as he looked down at himself quizzically, tail lashing in agitation.

"Oh, now you *laugh* at me? Hasn't anyone ever told you not to laugh at a naked man? Our poor, fragile egos cannot take the battering," and he looked mournfully up at her, chrome yellow eyes glitng ing incongruously with mischief beneath the sweep of impossibly long, dark lashes.

She tried, and failed, to look contrite and he managed the mournful look for all of ten seconds or so before his warm, rumbling laugh joined hers in the still night air. "Not *dignified* Liebe? And did you really think *you* are?" he managed to snort between waves of laughter as he stepped gracefully into his boxers, his tail slipping nimbly through the hole in the back.

She stopped short, halfway through the process of pulling on her jeans, and gave him a withering look before answering. "I am *so* not going to take that bait Fuzzy," she finally said, winking at him as she finished with her pants and reached for her bra.

"Bait?" He grinned at her, the quick flash of gleaming fangs in his shadowed face the only way she could really tell. "What bait?"

"Yeah, right, Fuzzy!" She shook her shirt vigorously, trying to get all the bits of dirt and leaves out, before shrugging into it and starting on the buttons. By this time he was standing, as fully dressed as he could getnsidnsidering what she'd done to his shirts earlier, and waiting patiently for her to finish, her socks and shoes dangling from his hand. He stood in a patch of moonlight just bright enough to highlight the lean lines of his chest and shoulders, the gentle swell and velvet-shadowed dip of his abs.... She swallowed hard and forced her eyes back to his face and paused at the odd, slightly strained expression he wore.

"What is it?" She tried not to let concern creep into her tone. After this afternoon she wondered how long would it be before she stopped reading potential catastrophe into every slightly awkward moment and struggled to ignore the irrational clenching in her gut as she waited for his answer.

"Was? Oh, nothing Schatz." Kitty relaxed in relief as his mouth tipped easily into a warm smile. "Nothing, just," he paused and she had to stifle a laugh as he canted his head at an angle, for all the world like an inquisitive puppy, before reaching to brush a warm, thick finger lightly along the line of her jaw. His touch sent a shiver down her spine and she felt lost in the molten gold of his eyes. It was his voice, warm and slightly halting, his accent thick with emotion, that brought her back to reality.

"Just thinking how...amazing...it is to be here, with you. It is strange, really. I never saw this coming, but already I cannot imagine anything else." He ducked his head briefly and she could imagine a blush she'd never see suffusing his dark cheeks before he looked back up and caught her gaze, golden eyes uncharacteristically somber. "And I really do not want to."

She had to pause a moment, blinking back tears as she tried to find her voice. "Me either, Kurt," she finally answered. "Me either."

Not eloquent or romantic maybe, but all she could get out past the lump in her throat. From the vantage point of where she stood now she had absolutely no idea how she hadn't seen this coming, wasn't even sure when it had actually started. She knew, now, that what she felt had been there long before that day at the lake. Something there had brought it out, but not created it. She supposed she'd just needed a little push to help her mind realize what her heart must have known already.

He gave himself a slight shake and the somber look melted from his face, replaced by an impish grin. "You know," he told her, eyes again sparkling with mischief. "I really *should* make you go stumbling about in the dark until you find my shirts and phase them out of that tree, Liebe. It's going to be...interesting...to say the least, explaining exactly why I'm coming back half dressed."

"Can't you just 'port back to your room?" She hadn't been thinking this far ahead when she'd been so proud of her little trick earlier.

"Nein Kaetzchen. I'm *much* too...drained...for that." Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, he gave her a sidelong glance that was equal parts sheepish and wicked.

"God, you're incorrigible! What am I going to do with you?" She tried to look disapproving but God...that _look_.

"Anything you want Liebe," he purred back and she was torn between laughing her ass off and melting into a puddle at his feet.

"I'll have to give that one some thought Fuzzy," she managed, before laughter won out and she burst into a fit of giggles. She let him pull her to his side, leaning into him and feeling the rumble of his own laughter a second before it spilled over into a low, warm chuckle.

This, she realized, this was what she loved about him most. After everything that had happened in the last two weeks, this afternoon - hell, everything that had happened in his whole fucked up life - he could stand here, holding her in his arms...and laugh.


Logan stalked silently past the rec room door, his nerves jangling irritably at the sound of raucous laughter intermingled with adolescent bickering that flooded from the room. The Porcupine's voice rose briefly above the rest before he was shouted down by Sparky and the Icecube.

_Typical. But not my problem tonight. 'Ro can keep 'em from trashing the place or each other this time._

He resisted the urge to grind his teeth at the noise, if only because of the adverse effect that would have on the cigar clenched between them, and continued on, making a bee-line past the library. The noise diminished with distance but was still obnoxiously loud to his sensitive ears. As he turned into the conservatory the sound dropped off sharply, muffled both by the closing door and the massed greenery filling the room - plant-life already spilling from the raised beds along the walls and the single large, oval bed in the center of the room.

_'Ro sure didn't waste any time in here,_ he thought with appreciation as he paused briefly to take in the myriad shades of green illuminated by the moonlight spilling through floor to ceiling windows. Between that and the rich, fecund smell of growing things it was almost as good as being outside.

Almost, but not quite. Speeding his steps he pushed open the elegant glass door and stepped out into the welcome warmth of a perfect spring night.

"Good evening, Logan." The voice was quiet, somewhat strained, but not surprised. Not that he'd expect it to be.

"Evenin'," he grunted around his unlit stogie, not bothering to turn to the shadows at the edge of the shallow porch. Instead he looked out across the shadowed expanse of the still-unfinished gardens, his eyes skipping over the empty basketball court before lingering on the long, moon-silvered sweep of lawn running to the dark edge of the orchard and the woods beyond.

It wasn't exactly a comfortable silence, but Logan felt no real inclination to break it. Not yet anyway. Reaching into his jeans pocket he fished out an ancient, battered, zippo and flipped it open with a practiced flick of his wrist. A small tongue of flame sprang to life and he drew deeply on his cigar as it kindled, a muted orange-gold ember in the darkness as he stepped away from the lamp light pooling at the windows behind him.

He let the silence stretch as he puffed on his cigar, the acrid smoke filling his lungs and billowing in the air around him. It dulled his senses, making it easier to focus by overwhelming the distraction of a thousand random scents vying for his attention. Nothing now but the soothing burn of the smoke and the bitter scent of irritation and disappointment rolling in waves from the shadows to his right.

Logan took another deep drag then, flicking the grey cylinder of ash over the porch rail, he turned to face the figure seated in the shadows behind him

"Any particular reason you're sittin' out here fuming in the dark Chuck?" he finally asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

"I am not...fuming...Logan," the other man replied, his cultured voice still tight. "I am simply awaiting the return of Kurt and Kitty. I find that I need to have a talk with the two of them regarding...responsibility."

_Ah shit!_ He suppressed the urge to snarl as he leaned back against the stone railing behind him, propping one foot comfortably against a fluted column. Deep breath in. Out. Okay, _now_ talk.

"Leave 'em be Chuck." Even through the cigar smoke he could smell the shspikspike of surprise. The only sign of it on his old friend's face, though, was one steeply arched eye-brow. Cool. Controlled. Always.

_Sucks ta be him._

"Logan, I know they are two of your...favorites...but that is hardly a valid viewpoint when you are not even aware of the circum-"

"So they're screwin' each other," he interrupted. "Big deal. They're bein' responsible. Leave 'em alone. They don't need any more shit to deal with than they've got already."

He watched Charles Xavier's normally impassive features flash through surprise, concern and disappointment before settling back into their customary neutrality. Any other time he might have found the sight amusing. Not tonight though. Like it or not, the disappointment struck a chord.

_Shit, one of these fuckin' days I'm gonna learn to think first and open my mouth later.

They watched each other in silence for a long moment, Logan's outburst hanging awkwardly between them.

"That is precisely the problem Logan. They have *more* than enough to deal with without adding in a sexual relationship which neitherthemthem is mature enough to handle." He closed his eyes briefly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose wearily before continuing. "Would you care to tell me, Logan, just how long you have been aware of this...situation...and exactly when you were planning on sharing the information with me?" His voice was, as always, cultured, modulated, reasonable - and, at the moment, sharp enough to cut glass.

"It's only been goin' on a week," he growled back, not bothering to hide his mounting irritation.

_Why the fuck do some people need to make things so damn complicated?_

"And I wasn't _planning_ on telling you anything at all. I _told_ you, they're bein' responsible and I don't see where it's anyone's business but theirs."

"They are *children* Logan," Xavier almost barked, his composure cracking somewhat as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands clenching on his knees. "The two of them engaging in a sexual relationship is *definitionally* irresponsible. And whether or not you think it's anyone else's business is irrelevant. They are _both_ under age and I am responsible for their well-being. I don't even want to _think_ about explaining this to their parents...." He dropped his head briefly into his hands and when he looked up his cheeks were flushed and he sounded angry for the first time. "And you, Logan! You're one of their _teachers_. How could you _possibly_ condone this?"

"Ain't a matter of me or you or anyone else _condonin'_ anything," he snarled, somewhat on the defensive. He didn't like the feeling that *he* had disappointed the man who was both his mentor and his oldest friend. "Can't see as there's much chance of stopping it anyway, and I really don't see the point in trying."

It was Logan's turn now to be impassive. He raised one bushy eyebrow, mirroring Xavier's earlier expression. "Besides, they may be under age Chuck, but they sure as hell aren't children. Hell, I'm not sure even Jamie's much of a kid anymore," he growled. "Ya ask 'em to deal with shit no kid should even have to _think_ about, let alone face. Most adults'd piss their pants at the stuff these _kids_ have been through in the last few months. But when they're not out making the world safe fer mutants, or mutants safe for the world - or just plain trying to keep their asses in one piece between breakfast and dinner - you expect 'em to come home, play nice and be good little kids for ya. It doesn't work that way Chuck. It just doesn't fuckin' work that way."

Logan paused, running blunt fingers through his unruly hair in frustration, struggling to find the words he needed.

_Shit! I don't *do* talking. I do ass-whipping._

"Logan," Chuck's calm voice broke into his thoughts before he'd had time to gather them. "I do understand what you're saying. The life they lead here of necessity places burdens and expectations on them that they should *not* have to face at their age. But that is all the *more* reason that they should not be burdened with any further responsibilities - and a sexual relationship is, first and foremost, a *responsibility*, my friend. It can be a great comfort and solace, but it can also be a tremendous emotional and psychological burden. I am...concerned...that they are not ready for that kind of burden, Logan.

"And what of the rest of the children? Kurt is one of our oldest students, he and Kitty are, or should be, role models to the younger children. When word of their...relationship...gets out - and rest assured that it will - how will that affect the others?

"Quite aside from any considerations of safe sex - which they do not appear to be practicing...." The other man's face flushed and Logan caught a distinct impression of _embarrassment_ before he cleared his throat and continued. "Quite aside from that, there are so many other issues to consider Logan. So you see, I simply can not 'leave them alone' as you insist, my friend. It is not an option."

There were *so* many issues he could jump on in that little speech, but one stood out to him above the others. One eyebrow creeping almost up to his hairline, he asked cautiously, "Uh, Chuck, just how _did_ you find out about the kids and why, exactly, is it that you think they ain't bein'...safe?"

The tell-tale flush crept up Xavier's cheeks and all the way across his bald pate as he looked uncomfortably down at his hands, where they rested in his lap.

"Well, to be honest," his voice was uncharacteristically hestitant. "I wondered why they were missing dinner so I...'looked'...for them on the grounds." He paused, clearing his throat roughly before continuing. "Let's just say that I 'found' them at a rather inopportune time - and there was certainly no...protection...involved."

Logan couldn't suppress a rather wicked chuckle at his friend's obvious discomfiture. The image was just too damn funny - Charles Xavier hip deep in hot, sweaty, teenage sex.

"No wonder ya nearly choked at dinner. And here I thought it was because ya hadn't cut yer meat up small enough." He snickered again at Charles' half-hearted glare. "Anyway Chuck - take a load off about the safe-sex bit at least. Half-Pint brow beat Hank into giving her some kinda shot yesterday. That'd be why they weren't, uh...using...anything."

"Do you mean that Henry is aware of this situation as well? And you two have been _discussing_ it?" His voice was incredulous. "Am I the only person in this house who _doesn't_ know?"

"Eh, don't get yer knickers in a twist Charles. Far as I know, 'Ro and the rest of the kids're still in the dark - and I've done my damnedest to keep it that way. As fer me an' Poindexter, we ain't been discussin' it per se - I just noticed that Kitty smelled...different...last night and Hank seemed awful antsy.... Put two and two together and pigeon-holed him. Was like pullin' teeth gettin' anything outa him though ctorctor/patient privilege bullshit!" He tipped his head back to gaze at the stars above the mansions jagged roof-line, scrubbing at his face with one rough hand as he did so. "Anyway, like I said, they're bein' responsible."

He looked back down at the other man, who was staring off into the darkness at the edge of the woods as he spoke. "Relieved as I am to hear that Logan, I must reiterate that safe sex is really among the least of my concerns. I cannot pretend that I am not disappointed in their choice, Logan, and I must say that I seriously question whether or not either of them truly understands or is ready for the emotional ramifications of their decision. They are both so young..." his voice trailed off into a sigh as he raised a hand to scrub wearily at his face.

_Damn, he looks tired. He's been bustin' his balls to get a proper roof over these kids' heads for months. Shit, we could all use a vacation 'bout now._

He took one last drag on the stub of his cigarette before dropping it to grind it under his booted heel. "Look," he finally began, "I guess I can understand yer concern Chuck, but I really think you need to let this slide - at least for now."

Shit, there went that damn eyebrow again....

"You're worried about them bein' emotionally able to deal with this and well, I gotta tell you that, right now, I'm not sure the elf's emotionally able to cope without it."

That damn eyebrow just crept higher, impossible as that seemed. "What is that supposed to mean Logan?"

"Remember when we first brought him in?"

Comprehension flashed in Xavier's eyes, followed rapidly by concern and he inclined his head slightly for Logan to continue.

"Yeah, well...he hasn't gotten *q* th* that bad, but it's been damn close." He looked awkwardly down at his boots, searching for the words to get his point across. He didn't like talking about this, even to Charles. Felt lhe whe was ratting the kid out behind hick bck but, well, it felt necessary. "He's been runnin' on the thin edge of a breakdown for a couple weeks now - and before you ask," he looked up, "I don't have a clue what started it. He ain't been talkin' and I ain't been pryin'. Anyway, started a couple weeks ago. He wrecked himself pretty good in the woods - in the middle of the night. I patched 'im up and set up some programs for him. He started hittin' the DR every night before bed, but I'd lay money that he still wasn't sleepin' and he was bleedin' at the ears and nose pretty regular. He tried to hide it but…."

He let his voice trail off with a shrug. Charles understood the pointlessness of trying to hide anything from him if he was looking for it. He saw the grim look on the other man's face as he glanced up, a look he was sure was a fair reflection of his own expression. Chuck obviously remembered those days - and nights - as well as he did.

His voice, when he spoke, was soft and almost bitter. "How did I miss this, Logan? How could I possibly have missed all this?"

"Shit, Chuck!" Logan barked. "I didn't tell ya so you could beat yerself up over it, dammit! You've been bustin' yer ass to get this place," he jerked his head at the mansion, "fit to live in. Besides, with this many teenagers runnin' around, when the hell were ya supposed to have a chance to notice?"

"I should have -"

"Should've what?" he interrupted with a snort. "Gone around inv' th' their mental privacy so you could keep tabs on 'em?"

"You should have told me Logan." He sounded tired, and there was no real accusation in his voice.

"Why? S'not like the kid'd talk to you or let you into his head. What the fuck could you have done? Other that worry about one more thing you couldn't fix, anyway? I was keepin' an eye on him - so was Scooter for that matter. Kid's not quite as dense at he looks sometimes.

"Anyway, the whole point of this little heart to heart is the fact that he's been gettin' better steady-like ever since he and Half-Pint started, uh, gettin' it on. Not sure as something between 'em didn't start it in the first place, but whatever it was, it's on the mend now. Don't really think we should fuck with success is all." He paused, meeting his friend's gaze in silence for a moment. "I'm not sayin' you should ignore it forever Chuck. Hell, maybe you should have your little 'talk' with them - just...not now. Give 'em a bit first. Give th'Elf a chance to settle down a bit more." He snorted in frustration, drawing a hand through his hair irritably. "Hell, I guess I don't know shit about it really. I'm not up on psychobabble or that crap, I'm sure as hell not a 'people person'...but. Just go easy on 'em, will you?"

"You know, old friend, you never have given yourself enough credit." Logan looked up in surprise at Charles' tone and caught him looking at him...oddly, his expression inscrutable, before he sighed and continued in a more normal tone. "I had planned on grounding them from tomorrow's trip and...firmly suggesting...that they bring the _physical_ aspect of their relationship to a halt - for the time being at least. However, under the circumstances, perhaps your...suggestion...is the best course of action. For now anyway."

He rolled his chair slightly out of the shadows and looked sharply across the lawn to the orchards. Following his gaze, Logan saw two shadows detaching themselves from the trees and starting toward the mansion. He turned back as Charles spoke again.

"I want you to understand Logan, that it was never my intent to...punish them. I was, contrary to popular belief, young once and I do recall what it's like. I am not angry at them, just...concerned." He looked back up at Logan and smiled slightly. "I am glad to hear that they have been careful - I will not say responsible, you understand. But I believe I do need to have a conversation of some sort with them soon, if only to ascertain whether they truly understand what they have begun. But," and he turned his chair toward the door, its motor humming quietly in the still night air, "I believe that it can wait until Sunday."

The door swung silently open at a command from his chair's console and he disappeared into the green-tinged light of the conservatory. "Good evening my friend," he called back over his shoulder as the door closed, his voice not lighter so much as...less strained than it had been. Logan grunted inarticulately in response then turned himself and, vaulting over the low porch rail, headed for the woods. Quite definitely *away* from where two figures made their way slowly across the grass, so close that they almost appeared as one, the faint sounds of soft voices and quiet laughter making their way to his sensitive ears as he disappeared beneath the shadows of the trees. It was a fine night to hunt.


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