10: Falling Amber

Sitting down was heaven, Ororo had decided as she sat delicately perched on the end of a white, ribbon entwined metal chair, pushing the expanse of light blue material off of her feet to rub at her aching heels.  It was the first moment she had been able to escape, trying not to collapse in a tired heap at the empty table at the end of the mansion lawn. 

There was a wedding reception running in full swing around her, but Ororo had had her fill of the cheerful insanity and was taking her few minutes of break, slipping the wretched shoes off and curling her toes in the dying grass of the lawn.  This moment of peace was the best thing that had happened to her all day, after getting up early to be thrown the high gear of Jean's wedding. 

A cool October breeze slipped around her and picked up her ironed curls in the wind along with the red and orange leaves that scattered down from the trees.  Ororo pushed back her platinum curls, letting her fingers brush through the intricate tresses.  It had been a nightmare to get her hair to cooperate that morning, and the several bobby pins immersed in the white mass on top of her head, digging into her scalp, were definitely not welcome.  Ororo looked forward to the moment when she could tear it all down.

Not too far into Ororo's thoughts of freeing her hair, Scott approached, sitting down next to her and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

"Hello, Scott," Ororo smiled, grinning at the groom and knowing his eyes were glittering underneath his reflecting red glasses. 

"What's all of this reclusive stuff you're pulling off over here?" he asked, giving her a returning smile.

"Scott, I'm merely saving my feet from those murderous shoes," Ororo responded, holding up one of the white sandals.  "If you had to wear these all day I'm sure your feet would have given in by now."

"I'm not called on to wear tiny sandals often, I'll give you that," Scott answered back, pulling on her hand.  "But you have yet to dance with the groom.  I'm feeling left out."

"Where did Jean head off to?" Ororo asked, putting the shoes back on with a grimace at Scott's request.

"Dancing with the best man," Scott said.  "I would cut in, but I figure I've got a ton of spins on the floor left on my dance card."

"I don't doubt it," Ororo laughed, letting Scott haul her out of her seat and lead her toward the patio turned dance floor, several couples already slow dancing around to the music that Ororo hardly recognized.

Ororo smiled at Scott through the pain shooting up and down her legs and let him guide them around the patio, drifting through the shifting dancers and talking all the while.  Scott, though, only had eyes for Jean, and when she floated past with his best friend she turned and smiled brightly. 

Ororo swayed next to Scott, falling into comfortable silence as she looked over his shoulder, lazily watching the figures rotate around them until she spotted a dark gaze staring back at her.  Ororo stared back this time, almost glaring back at Logan from Scott's shoulder until he turned them around, feeling helpless as she could almost feel his gaze traveling down her bare back.

The song ended softly, and Ororo gave way for Jean, who kissed her on the cheek before being swept off again with Scott, leaving Ororo to fend for herself as she made her way off the patio and back down to the grass, where she wasted no time taking off her shoes again. 

With the white sandals hooked on her index finger, she weaved her way away from the crowds, feeling hot and annoyed by the bothersome gaze.  He had stared at her like that through the entire ceremony, and through most of the reception except for the brief moment when she had escaped at the abandoned table.  Ororo was amazed she had kept her cool under such a condition, considering she was one more glance away from losing all composure.

Then she felt a hand close around her wrist, stopping her movement.

Too late, she thought.

She turned around and there he stood, his hand closed around her wrist and her shoes dangling from her hand.  The wind was picking up, bringing with it the smell of twilight as it ruffled up her hair, making her look as if she were floating.

"What is it, Logan?" Ororo sighed, expecting to hear some wiseass comment or a cutting remark.  Anything was better than standing under the scrutiny of his gaze for one more moment without speaking.

"Why not just dump the shoes?" Logan asked, keeping his hand securely on her wrist has he pulled the lightweight but crippling sandals and tossed them in the general direction of one of the waste receptacles set up for the reception.

"Logan, I can't just throw away a pair of expensive…"

"Like hell you can't," came his reply as he pointed her, shoeless, away from the trashcan and even further from the crowds.  Ororo followed his lead without speaking, walking without protest as she found herself down to the path of maples, their red and yellow tips towering above them. 

"What are we doing, Logan?" she finally asked as they stopped, Logan leaning against the dark trunk of one of the maples.

"Wanted some damned peace and quiet," Logan muttered, finding a cigar and lighting it, puffing out milky gray smoke to rise up to the trees.  He glanced over at Ororo, who was staring at him as if he had gone insane.

"What?" Logan asked.  "You looked like you needed it, too."

"I just wanted to take off my shoes," Ororo pointed out.

"Your shoes are gone," Logan said, pointing to her bare feet under her pale blue dress.

Ororo sighed and began rubbing her forehead, feeling a headache approaching.  If she had just gone through one of the more busy days of her life she certainly didn't need Logan, no matter how appealing he looked in the dismantled suit Rogue had forced on him earlier, acting up to his usual standard.  There was only so much she could take, and this, unfortunately, was nearing her breaking point.

Then he did it.  As she turned away to stare up at the trees in mild annoyance, she caught his eyes wandering back toward her, stumbling through her hair and smoothing out on her neck, then falling down the slippery contours of the dress. 

"Must you always do that?" Ororo asked quietly, surprising him.

"I guess I don't," he answered back seriously, putting the cigar to his mouth and inhaling deeply, letting out another cloud of thick smoke from his lips. 

"You guess?" Ororo asked, amused but equally frustrated.  "What are you doing?"

"I look at what I want," Logan said simply, looking down at the cigar that he held in his hand.

Ororo stared at him, unsure if she should even believe a word.  "No, you don't," she said softly.  "Since when do you just look?"

Logan chuckled and took another long sip from the cigar before turning and putting it out half-heartedly against the stonewall behind the line of trees.  The music had started up again, drifting toward them on the breeze that shook the leaves in the trees, dropping more amber down to the ground. 

Ororo's eyes followed Logan as he moved up to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, ignoring her slight protest. 

"Logan," Ororo started, panicking when she felt him up next to her, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she was suddenly pressed close to him.

"This is nothing, 'Ro," he said into her hair.  "Just calm down."

Then she found that they were dancing.  She couldn't see his face, so she clutched to his shoulders, bowing her head to hide her rapid breath.

He could hear it all, the pounding of her heart through her chest, and her breathing coming in raspy gasps as though she were dying.  She touched her forehead to his shoulder and he continued to shift slightly over the grass underneath the falling red leaves to the music that rose and fell from the house. 

He had been watching her far longer than she knew.  Since she had first seen her walk down the stairs he had kept an eye on her, nearly stumbling over himself when he saw her beauty radiating out through the crowds.  He had watched through the ceremony, and through the reception, feeling moderate amounts of jealousy shooting through him when he saw her dancing over the patio with other men.  He had just wanted to walk up to her and grab her, cutting in with a growl that wouldn't be protested, but somehow he knew that wouldn't go over well with her.  Somehow he had learned what would and what would not be accepted by Ororo since he had come back to New York, and now he had decided to put that knowledge to work.

Ororo's breath fell suddenly, coming in shallow gasps as his hand ran up her bare back, tracing up her spine that had looked so inviting from afar.  Now it was here pressed up to Logan, and there was no way he was going to ignore it.

Her feet grazed over the grass, stepping over the smooth folds of fallen leaves.  Everything felt as though it had settled into place, and Ororo found her hands wandering up into his coarse hair. 

"We should get out of here," he offered, just as the song was nearing its end.

"Where would we go?" Ororo laughed, lifting her forehead from his shoulder to stare into his dark eyes.

"Anywhere," he responded to the end of the music.

Ororo glanced up at him and then back at the wedding, seeing that the reception was already beginning to come to its close.  Jean was surrounded in people giving her their best wishes.  She wasn't needed here, that much Ororo knew well.

"I'll need to change," Ororo said, almost breathless at the opportunity. 

"Go," Logan said, letting go of her waist.  "I'll wait."

Ororo nodded and turned around without looking, frazzled and confused, but beyond all else she was soaring.  The ran back up to the mansion taking a few glances back to see Logan standing stationary, watching her glow.

When she reached the French doors her hand hit the bronze knob like it had done so many times before, and on instinct she felt the need to turn and look, finding him gone.  But this time all she could do was smile.

*

Was I gone long enough this time?  ;)