My toes are cold. Milk is seeping through my sneakers.

I’d forgotten all about the dream until that moment. My dreams are usually pretty erotic, compensating for touch I couldn’t, or wouldn’t have, so the dream in and of itself wasn’t unusual.

But this was one of the ones with Jean and they are always more vivid, more real than real. Never, ever, has a third party been in one of the dreams.

Logan is still standing in the doorway, staring at me. His hair is longer, shaggy and shoulder-length, his face is covered in stubble. Did I dream him that way? I think I did. How could I have, when he had that stupid duck’s ass do when I last saw him?

“Spread for him. Let him see you.” My cheeks burn as I remember the dream.

The expression on his face is odd. It’s recognition, shock. Then he smiles, and I realize how much he has missed me. I feel a burning warmth radiate from my chest.

I walk around the spilled milk, over to him. I’ve grown taller, almost as tall as him. “Looky what the cat dragged in.” I stop a few feet from him and just stare.

“That’s me. You look great.”

“Do you like her pussy, Logan?” I remember. I will not blush. I will not... damn.

“You too.”

“Well give me a hug, dammit.” He says with mock exasperation.

I set my plate on the nearest table and wrap my arms around him. Every intention I had about being aloof goes out the window as I feel his arms strong around me. Im am smiling and I can smell the soap he used and the leather of his jacket, can feel the pulse at his throat. I know that everyone in the dining hall is staring. He must know also, but he just holds me.

“I missed you,” I whisper. Damn. I’ve envisioned this scene a million times. I did not mean to say that. Even worse, the way he is holding me, breathing in my scent, makes it okay. He missed me too.

I pull away and tilt my head toward the table. “Join me for breakfast.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” I repeat stupidly.

“I’ll be right back,” he grins.

The maid has already come to clean up the milk on the floor. “Don’t,” I say. “Candace, let me do it. I made the mess.”

“I’d have dropped my glass too, Miss Rogue,” she says with a wink. She is eighty two, a dirty old woman. She has been working for Charles for fifty years, cleaning the huge mansion, but now she has the good end of the stick because no one lets her do any actual work.

“It’s not like that.”

“It should be. Because boy is he happy to see you.”

I shoo her away and mop up the milk myself. He is walking back toward me and I can feel him watching me. The fucking milk has run everywhere and it takes me a while to get all of it.

“Let me help you.”

“No. Sit. I’m almost done.” This is true. I squat to get one last splash of milk and someone walks in to the room. Jean.

I am conscious of myself as I look up at her, my flushed face, my wide eyes. I can still remember her taste. She doesn’t look one bit out of the ordinary. I’m sure her dreams are nothing like mine. “Morning, Rogue,” she smiles glibly.

“Hey,” I say. I put the mop and bucket back where they belong, get myself another glass of milk, and finally sit down opposite Logan. He has amassed three biscuits, a muffin, two eggs over easy, an apple, a huge cup of coffee, and a pile of bacon.

His eyes follow me as I sit. Were his eyes ever that beautiful? I’d forgotten exactly what he looks like in the last few years and now it all comes back. The sensual shape of his mouth, the wide set of his eyes. Something about his hands turns me on.

“So. How was it?”

“Strange. I was in Japan.”

“So that’s where you went after Alkali?”

“You didn’t get my postcard?”

“What postcard?”

“I sent you a postcard from Hokkaido.”

“When?”

“Dunno. A few months ago.”

“Hmm. I never got it. So what did you do in Japan?”

“Found out some things about myself. Got chased out of the country. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Okay.” I bite into my strawberry and look up at him. He is watching me intently. If I’m not mistaken, he is blushing this time.

I raise my eyebrow.

“Is that an indestructible metal alloy in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

It rolls perfectly off my tongue and for a second I feel like a glib character in a movie, not at all like my normal bumbling self.

He puts down his coffee cup and laughs so loud the entire room turns to stare.

.

After that he high-tails it out of there pretty quickly. I don’t mind though, because something crucial has shifted between us, in my favor. I know I’ll see him soon.

.

Now it’s afternoon. Warren and I are sparring in the DR. He is new to physical combat, and he still has a hard time keeping his wings out of the way. He knows they are his one vulnerability, and he hasn't yet learned to exploit their strength, so we work on that. Warren is my friend. He is filthy rich and devastatingly handsome. But I like him because me makes me laugh.

“Marie.”

I abort my kick to Warren’s solar plexus and turn. Logan is in the doorway, all jeans and tight tee shirt and bristly skin, intense eyes and leather jacket held slack in his hands.

“Hey, Logan. Come meet Warren.”

Logan is gawking at Warren’s wings. “Holy shit,” he mutters, actually walking around behind Warren to look. He doesn’t mean to be rude, just in awe.

“Warren, Logan, the Wolverine. Logan, Warren Worthington.”

Warren turns to face Logan and grins. He furls his wings wide so fast the breeze ruffles my hair. He holds his hand out. “Good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Don’t hold it against me.” Logan says gruffly, returning the handshake. “Can you fly with those things?”

Warren pushes off with a mighty whoosh and hovers near the ceiling. “I’ll take you for a ride sometime,” he says.

That is Warren, open and friendly to everyone. Logan, jaded as he is, raises a wary eyebrow and lets this pass.

“How long are you gonna be busy?” he asks me.

I glance at the clock. “Um, maybe another half hour.”

“I have to leave in fifteen minutes,” Warren says.

“Can I watch?” Logan asks.

I stand there dumbly, feeling my heart pound in my ears.

Logan, naked on a chair as Jean reams me.

I turn to him with wide eyes, memory strong in me.

There is something in his own gaze, some sort of recognition, and embarrassment, but I chalk it up to him reacting to my expression. “Sure,” I say, and Warren and I resume what we are doing.

Later, we are walking out on the grounds. The show is nine inches deep so it’s quite a workout.

“So are you and Wingboy an item?”

“No. We’ve gone out once or twice, but that’s it.”

“Why nothing more?” “I’m interested in someone else, mostly. What about you? Got any geisha girl action in Japan?”

He looks at me. Clearly he was not expecting me to interrogate him. “Not really. No.”

Not really? What the hell kinda answer is that?

“So when did you get in?”

“Like four in the morning. It was really weird, I got inside and Chuck was there waiting for me.”

“He’s got bad insomnia. He’s always up at night.”

“That’s what he said.”

“Yeah.” We walk down through the woods, where the snow is not so thick.

“So who’s the lucky guy?”

“Huh?”

“You said you were interested in someone other than wings.” Oh shit. I’m not coming out with this now.

“Who says it’s a guy?” I say. If he reacted well to the sight of Jean and I in the dream, what would he think in real life? Would it excite him? I want to excite him.

He turns around and stares at me. For a long time. It is impossible to tell what he is thinking.

“It’s a woman?” he finally says.

“No. But that’s not impossible, you know.” I say with a smirk.

“Oh, I know.”

He does?

“It’s your fault I’m bisexual, you know. I absorbed a lot of choice thoughts from you.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“So have you ever been with another woman?”

“Well, no.” Jean is so real. I can still smell her. But I’ve never been with another anybody. First because I couldn’t, and then, in the last year and a half, because I wouldn’t.

“Why not? You can now, right?” He sits on a felled tree that obscures our path and I sit next to him. I have my uniform boots on and my feet are toasty. The sun comes out and sparkles violently through the trees. It is beautiful here in light and shadow.

“Oh yeah.”

“I’d want to get busy.”

“I do want to get busy.”

“So why don’t you just jump the guy you want?”

“It’s complicated. Can we not talk about him now?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s cool.”

We are quiet for a while. “Are you cold?” I ask.

“No.”

“I never understood how you could not be susceptible to hypothermia, with all that metal.”

“Yeah. Somehow I’m not. I think they built me that way.”

“You never found them, did you?”

“Two of them. I didn’t learn much.”

“Have you remembered anything new?”

“No. But lately my nightmares aren’t as bad.” He laughs, and I wonder why.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I look at him. His eyes are hazel-brown and so beautiful the way they capture the snow-light.

“Sure.”

“Did you have a dream last night?”

I feel like Heath Ledger in that scene from A Knight’s Tale when they knock him on his armor-clad ass with one blunt hit to the torso.

“I dream every night.” I know he can hear my defensiveness.

He is looking at me and I feel like a very small mouse in front of a very large cat. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know why you’re asking it.”

“I think you know why.”

“Logan, you’re really pissing me off.” I get up and walk back toward the house, cheeks burning.

.

They avoid each other until late afternoon. Later, Logan is in his room, unpacking. There is a knock on the door.

It’s Jean. Not the one he wants to see, but he is still happy to see her. “C’min Jeannie.”

Jean comes in. She is pretty in black jeans and a red sweater.

“How did you know it was me?” she asks.

“I can smell you.” he says. He tosses some books on the dresser, then realizes she is staring at him. Her face is even redder than Rogue’s was this morning, confirming his suspicions.

“Well, I just wanted to welcome you back.”

“Thanks. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good. Got hitched.” She holds up her hand. Platinum shines on her ring finger.

“Where is old One-Eye?”

“He’s in Alaska.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve been keeping busy in his absence.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Tell me what the hell happened last night.” He turned around and sat in the window seat.

“Logan, what are you talking about?”

“I was having a dream. But the thing is, I think it was more than a dream. It was real, wasn’t it?” His tone is accusatory because he is afraid he has been duped. Neither one of them senses Rogue, who is peering through a crack in the door.

Jean sighs and sits down on the overstuffed chair near the window. “Yes and no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, yes and no?”

“I’ll tell you Logan, if you shut the hell up so I can talk.”

“Talk.”

Yeah, talk, Rogue thinks.

Jean blushes and tries to decide how to proceed. “Okay. It’s possible that when a telepath is living with other people that when two people are asleep that they… well the technical term would be a psionic nexus, but people of the same mind about something can dream the same dream of it.”

Rogue’s eyebrows knit together and she feels rage rise in her chest.

“The thing about it is that it’s not deliberate. It just happens.”

“You and Rogue?”

“Have never been more than friends. But in the past few years we have had a dozen or more shared dreams. At least I think they were.”

“And how exactly did I get invited to this little party?”

“You didn’t. That’s the thing. There’s no ringleader, not even the telepath. It’s all unconscious.”

“Have you talked to Marie about this?”

“No.”

“Why?” His tone is accusatory.

The door slams open. “Yeah, why?” Rogue asks.

Jean jumps, then calms immediately.

“Shut the door.” Jean says. She does. Rogue stands there with her arms crossed over her chest. Logan has never seen her like this before, standing so tall and angry.

Having the three of them in a room identitical to this one makes all of them think about the dream.

Jean looks at Rogue. “Exactly what the hell am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I dreamt I was eating you out last night, and you liked it?’ There’s not exactly etiquette for this, you know!”

“I can’t believe you knew this was real all these years and you didn’t tell me!” Rogue is screaming and they are both a little afraid of her.

“What if I had?” Jean stands up. “Would it have made it any easier for you, or would it just have made things embarrassing and awkward?”

Rogue is quiet. She knows Jean is right but she feels foolish.

“If you’re the damn telepath, why can’t you just control it?” Logan says. Jean's guts twist. She feels as if she is being interrogated and at the moment all the hostility in the room is directed at her.

“Believe me, if I could I would. I’m a married woman! You think that, hot as this stuff is, that it doesn’t complicate things for me?”

She thinks it’s hot? Logan and Marie think simultaneously.

“But that’s the nature of sleep. The unconscious mind comes to the surface and does whatever it damn well pleases. Sometimes it helps to not think of sex before bed, but that’s about all you can do.”

“Sex before bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I know how this happened,” Logan says. “I came down the hall, and passed your room…” he points to Rogue, “and I was gonna knock and tell you I was home but your scent was...well, you smelled... occupied. And then I go down the hall more, past your room,” he points to Jean, “and I hear this little moan. You guys were getting it on before I even came into the picture, weren’t you?”

“Well, duh? You’re the one who walked in the door.” Rogue says.

“You saw it!” Jean says. She is angry. She didn't ask to be in this triangle and the need to defend herself is frustrating her.

Then she deflates visibly, she breathes, and tries to get the anger out of her. “Look, this is why I didn’t say anything. These things are okay as dreams but if they spill out into real life they can get ugly. None of this is my fault, or your fault, or his fault. It just happened. Rogue, I love you like a sister, and I would never intentionally embarrass you or make you uncomfortable.”

“That didn’t feel real sisterly,” Rogue says, thinking of kissing Jean and tasting her own juices.

Jean faces her with narrowed eyes. “Make no mistake about it, Rogue, I do, and I also want to do those things to you. When you left, Logan, you left a lot of your own thoughts in her head and it excited me that she wanted me and you wanted me and when you were both in her head wanting me… I came to want her as much as I wanted you.”

Jean swallows and knits her fingers together nervously. “But I want a lot of things, and that doesn’t make them real. I want to win the lottery and have wings like Warren, that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. It’s fantasy.”

They are quiet for a long time. The late-day sun catches dust motes.

“Look, I’m going to leave, but I want to make this clear to you both. I care about you both and I know you care about each other tremendously, so don’t let this make us hate each other. It happens, and it’s in the realm of fantasy, but... We all have too much to lose. Especially you two.”

They are quiet.

“Does Scott know about this?” Logan asks, accusationin in his tone.

“Yes.” Jean says simply.

“You told him?!” Rogue yells.

“He walked in on us one night.”

Rogue gapes at the indignity of Scott knowing all her fantasies about his pretty wife. “That’s just fucking great,” she spits.

“Rogue, what else would you have me do? I’m not going to apologize for wanting you. Or you. I tried to handle it the best way I knew.“

They are all quiet. “Be good to each other.” And she shuts the door and walks away.

Rogue feels rage wash over her. “So when exactly did you figure this out? I’m such a fucking idiot. All these years and I didn’t know.”

“How could you know? And you’re not an idiot.”

“Fuck you!”

“Why are you yelling at me?”

“I don’t know!” Rogue is pacing back and forth. There is a paperweight on the shelf, left over from the previous resident. She takes it and hurls it into a corner. It makes a dent in the paneling before shattering and falling.

“Marie, listen to me.”

“When did you know?”

“When I asked her, just before you came in!”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Marie!” She paces to the window and turns to pace back. He takes her hands in one of his. “Listen.”

“What?” She screams. He is disturbed by what he sees in her eyes. Tears.

He pulls her close and they hold each other. “Listen to me. The only reason I knew it was real was because I smelled you and heard her, and that alone didn’t tell me anything, just got me excited enough to enter the dream myself. But this morning when you saw me, and when you blushed, and then I saw her blush, it all came together. But I didn’t know either. That’s why I asked her.”

“That excited you?”

“What?”

“Passing... my door and... smelling...”

“Yeah.” She looks at him. She has never let herself believe that he might desire her. Her cheeks flush and her heart beats faster. Then she pushes him away with surprising strength and turns toward the window.

“Marie? Why can’t you look at me?”

“Because.” It is all she can say. Humiliated tears are rising to her eyes.

He stands close behind her, so close that she can feel his heat, but he doesn’t touch her.

“Because why?”

“Because I feel like a huge fucking idiot. I’m a virgin, and boy do I not want to be. I thought I’d save myself for the one I really wanted, and I find out all the while I’m rug munching with my biology teacher and I don‘t even know it‘s really happening?!”

He hopes for her sake that no one is in the adjoining rooms or the hall outside. He prays that he is the one she wants.

“Well you weren’t exactly inclined to ask her about it either.”

“I know! I know I can’t blame her! I just feel so-” so young, so naïve, so stupid. She doesn’t finish the list of things in her head, just swallows and lets her tears fall.

“You’re not the only one who’s embarrassed, you know.”

She turns around. “Oh?”

Seeing tears on her face does something to him high inside his chest. He swallows. “Yeah. I felt pretty pissed at first too.”

“I’m just... frustrated. Sexually and otherwise.”

He looks out the window, jaw clenching, then back down at her. “I wanna... I wanna hold you now and make you feel better, but that might make you more embarrassed, so I don’t know what to do here. I don’t wanna make things worse.”

She looks up at him and many things flash in her eyes. “Hold me,” she says, so vulnerable, barely audibly, and he does.

He holds her close and rubs his strong hands up and down her back. He inhales her scent and keeps holding her. He presses a kiss to the hair above her ear and whispers “It’s okay. It’s not like you’re gonna die tomorrow. You’re how old?”

“Nineteen.” she swallows.

“So you’re frustrated so far. But you could get what you want any time. You‘ll probably be getting nookie until you‘re old as Chuck.”

She laughs, then wipes at her tears.

“Just, for so long everyone could be touched but me.” It is easier to say the words into the soft fabric of his tee shirt. He is stroking her hair. She holds him tighter. It feels so good.

He is hard, and she feels it. Arousal flares through her, and danger, and fear and he can smell all three.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… is that an indestructible metal alloy...” it is as far as she can get before they both burst into laughter.

She feels him shake as he laughs. She decides she likes the feeling. “I’m sorry darlin’. I can’t help it. If it bothers you I’ll leave.”

She looks up at him. “You really want me?”

“More and more every second. Say the word and I’ll leave.”

“This is your room.”

“Yeah. It is.”

She doesn’t move away. She is standing so close that he can see the pores on her skin.

“I don’t want you to be weird around me. And I want you to pursue this guy, whoever he is, because you deserve it.”

The look on her face is strange. She laughs incredulously, then smacks him upside the head.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You are such a dumbass,” she grins, and shoves him to the bed.

“Okay, I know you weren’t that strong when I left, what the hell-” She is on top of him, grinning. “Oh. Hey there.”

“Hey,” she says softly. He can feel the weight of her body and smell the skin between her breasts and the perfume in her hair and the blood pulsing below her skin.

“Hey,” he mumbles dumbly.

“It’s you,” she whispers, eyes so full of light, fingers gently touching his face.

“Thank fucking god!” he hisses, and she laughs.

Then, her laughing face becomes very serious.

“Logan?” she asks. Her face is so close to his. He smells so good.

“Marie?”

At the same instant, they lean to each other. Her lips are so soft. He closes his eyes and feels a peace he hasn’t felt ever, and at the same time a roaring intensity that rivals the worst nightmares. His hand touches hers, and he tangles his fingers there.

“Marie.”

“Hmmm,” she drags her fingers down the length of his side.

“Hmm,” he mumbles and rolls so that he is over her. It is him. He can tell from the light in her eyes.

They make love, tense, go limp, waken again, move fast, call out the other’s name, rush, slow, miss dinner, exchange words and confessions, again and again until late that night until they know each other fully, bodies exhausted and minds saturated. Then they sleep.

Jean wakes and the room is dark. Dim light is cast from the door that is ajar. She gets up and goes to it, white nightgown pooling at her knees. She peers inside and smiles. The room is dim and a candle is burning. They are naked and entwined on the bed, half-awake, open eyes on each other, busy in a silent communion.

In dreams one can do anything, and in this one she tosses a cloud of light out and over them. It hovers in the air above them, sparkling a million colors, lighting their tangled bodies. Her blessing, and her well wishes. She closes the door and goes back to bed.