1964-12-25 - Cabin Christmas
Summary: Thea comes to see Logan for Christmas.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
thea logan 

She's tromped through snow, stalwart black boots up to her knees as she brings a sizeable and laden brown shopping bag with her. The wool peacoat is a deep black, contrasting the cheery Christmas red dress beneath. Hair is caught back from her face with a couple of turtleshell combs, her lips that same crimson-y shade, mascara alone on her eyes to keep a balance. Small sparkles dangle from her earlobes, and any other sparklers are hidden by black gloves and her dress. But there's the knock on the door, as she tries to clear snow off her boots. "Logan! It's Santa's helper!"

Logan had spent the earlier part of the day up at the school, but most of the kids were home for the holidays, those that had homes. The rest had enjoyed a snowball fight with the old man, although he didn't let them win. They'd have to beat him fair and square.

He comes to the door in his usual flannel and jeans, but he has a Santa hat on, his tousled hair tucked up under it, "The elves're gettin' prettier. Mrs. Claus gonna get jealous. C'mon in, toots," he says with a wink, stepping aside to let the blonde in.

Thea laughs at the Santa hat, brown eyes sparkling with that amusement. She'll kiss him square on the mouth with a smacking sound as she moves to come inside. "Well if Santa looks like you, I might have to move!" She'll step out of her boots, before offering him that laden bag, filled with various wrapped boxes of sizes and shapes so she can get out of her coat.

Logan shuts the door, grinning at the kiss and taking the bag in hand, "What's all this now? Ain't no rugrats around here waitin' fer Santy, less'n I got some hidin' out back I don't know about yet," he says. He has a simple tree, cut from the nearby forest and set up by the fireplace. He takes the sack over there, "Got some nog in the fridge, long as you don't mind it bein' more'n half brandy," he says with a smirk.

Thea chuckles, a hand over her hair to make sure it's neat, as she puts her coat away. She'll move over towards the fire, shaking her head at him. "I can handle the nog, but those presents aren't for kids."

Logan raises an eyebrow but goes to open the sack, gesturing for her to take a seat on the nearby sofa, "Glad ya came by, darlin'. Was just gonna put on some Bing an' settle in fer my long winter's nap. Yer a lot better'n visions o' sugarplums, though," he says, "Think I got a bit o' turkey left, too, I swiped it from the mansion earlier."

Thea takes a seat on the sofa, watching him with a glow around her. "Well, you're sure better than any nap." She'll wink, watch those boxes emerge. Surely his nose will tell him which box holds the cheap cigars, versus the really expensive ones, despite identical wrapping. The greek liquers in slender boxes are well sealed, but she won't put anything past him. Though the sprig of pine in the box with the flannel shirt and jeans may throw him off. But one she knows he'll sniff out is the cookies.

Logan shakes his head at the bounty as he slowly unwraps each of them, taking his time. He snatches a cookie and takes a bite, "Darlin', you're spoilin' me," he says. "Can't say I did much in the way o' shoppin' this year, but I got a little somethin', at least," he says. He gets up and goes over to a cabinet, opening it up and drawing out a small object. He brings it over and reveals it to be a carved piece of wood, crafted by his own hands, in this case depicting a woman's visage, "It ain't exactly a great likeness, but I ain't no artist," he says.

"I don't have many people to spoil, Logan. Besides, it isn't as if I won't come over and drink some of that pretty liquer." She teases, before she's silent, starting at that wood. "Logan.. it's beautiful. It most certainly is art." There's a hint of thickness in her voice, something other than the usual lighthearted sass he knows. "Thank you."

Logan takes a seat on the sofa next to her and shakes his head, "Just somethin' I'd been fiddlin' with fer a bit. Man's gotta keep his hands busy on the long nights," he says. "Otherwise, you get the devil in ya and you end up down at the bar gettin' in scraps," he says.

"Well, I'm always glad t'let ya spoil me," he says, "Thank ya much."

Thea moves to lean against him, taking in the scent that is Logan, to her. Usually cigar, flannel, a solid touch to toiling man. "I could do with maybe some more devil in me. Feeling restless, as of late."

He puts his arm around her and leans back into the couch, letting her get comfortable against him, "Restless, huh? I'm plenty familiar with that sorta thing, too. What's been goin' on with ya? I know I been playin 'the hermit a bit," he says. He'd had a few strange adventures, but even though they were recent, they were foggy in his memory already. Time travel can be messy.

"I'm sorry I haven't come around more. It's not that I haven't been thinking of you. I cut back on working at the clinic in Harlem. I want to set up one for Mutant town, but getting permits and things is being a bear." She speaks softly, one finger doodling idly against the denim over his leg. "Been working some healing in SHIELD. Got one guy's attention. He's a cut-up, big time flirt. But not the creepy kind? He .. he made me feel like I'd be wanted around."

Logan raises an eyebrow, "Oh yeah? Gettin' an eyeful o' you, I bet he noticed awful fast," he says. He's not the jealous type, as a rule, but there's a little bit of a growl in the back of his throat. "I imagine you could do a lot of good fer them.," he says.

"I can't help ya none with paperwork, but sounds like good work to be doin'.

Thea laughs, shaking her head before she tips it back to kiss along his jaw. "I'm pretty sure it's sort of part of his…agent thing. Flirt with the female." She'll inch and squirm, bury her face to the side of his neck. "Sweet of you to think so, though." She'll whisper.

"I want to do good. I want to get a clinic in mutanttown. My.. god I'm so ashamed, but I asked Grandpa for funds. He gave them to me, told me not to work so hard, I should balance work with a boyfriend. "

Logan tilts his head and kisses her forehead and inhales the smell of her hair for a moment, "Flirtin' with pretty girls ain't surprisin'. Most men do it and spies do it more'n most," he says.

He strokes a hand over her back and nods, "Nothin' to be ashamed of. Rich folks better off usin' their money to do good than stuffin' in a mattress an' waitin' to die," he says. "But nothin' wrong with balance, that's true enough. All work an' no play."

"Exactly. He didn't mean anything by it." She shrugs. "I just fixed him up better than he expected." She will rest her head against him. "You don't flirt with me." She teases, chuckling as she snuggles in close.

"I should be doing it on my own, but.. I can't. The trust he set up when I was born can't be touched." She's silent a long moment when he talks about balance. "Is that what you are? My balance?"

"If you don't think I'm flirtin' with ya, darlin', just shows I ain't very good at it," he says. "Pretty sure you knew I been sweet on' ya fer a while," he says softly.

"I dunno how good o' balance I am. I'm trouble and no denyin' it," he says. "But I'm always hear when ya need me, that's a promise," he says. "You need me?"

Thea laughs, her hand lifting to find his and lices fingers between his. "You're just blunt in your compliments. It's different with you." She bites her bottom lip, lifting her head to look up at him. "Exactly.. how sweet?" She's even blushing, just a little bit. "I mean.. I know we're not exactly.. conventional in how we go about this. I just.. " There's a sigh before she moves to sit up more. "I figured I was one of a few."

Logan looks down for a moment, "Not…fer a while," he says. "You been the only one for a bit," he says. "I don't usually leave myself…we talked about this before, a little bit. Women I care about, things tend to end up bad for 'em, just bein' around me. My life's messy an' bloody an' no mistake about it. So I tend to keep women at the length o' my arm, at least, but it ain't easy," he says.

"Sometimes they're awful persistent and show up smellin' all pretty with presents an' then a man's gotta wonder whether he's protecting them or himself. An' maybe thinkin' that he should just shut the hell up and be happy fer a little bit while he can get it. How's that sound to you, darlin'?"

"I know we talked about it. It's why I figured I was not the only pretty lady you had coming around." Thea's voice is calm, collected, almost too much so. "I.. I haven't been with anyone else, because well.. there's you." She shrugs. "Not that I felt I couldn't, but.." It's her turn to look down.

"Logan, you're the only man in my world, I think, who /could/ protect me. Without forgetting I'm not exactly helpless." Fingers toy with the hem of her dress. "I mean.. do you want to shut up and be happy, or do you want me to be less persistent?" Now he's done it. He's made her all unsure of herself.

He reaches down and takes her hand more firmly, giving it a squeeze, "I think shuttin' up, at least on my part, is a damn good idea," he says. "I think maybe dancin' around what we both been wantin' is messier'n just doin' what comes natural. An' I think, maybe, I think too much," he laughs.

"not somethin' I been accused of much. But true just the same. You an' me givin' it a go sure as hell don't sound like the worst idea I've ever heard," he says. "An' I know if I let you slip into the arms o' some pretty boy spy with a smart mouth, I'd feel like a god damn fool," he says.

Thea flushes, her hand curling to grip against his squeeze. "I don't want you to think you have to, just .. for me. I mean,…" She's stuttering, and that's something new. "I want you to tell me, if there's someone else that you maybe want to have come around too."

She'll give him a look then. "Though don't go thinking I'd let it be easy for you to slip into some pretty eyed lady's bed, either."

Logan shakes his head softly. There had been times, perhaps, when he'd thought something more might have existed, with him and another, but that time, he knew, had passed. And that was okay. Friendship was good, for both of them, and probably better. And he'd that brief flirtation with the widow woman, but she was too sweet and too…normal for him. He'd passed out of her life and she was better for it. "No, just you," he says softly.

"So. Sounds like you want me an' I want you. So maybe we oughtta crack some o' this booze and stop worryin' so much, huh?"

"But flirting is still allowed, right? I mean, Clint may mope, if he doesn't get to flirt with me." There's a teasing grin at that. "Before booze." She moves to put her hand on his chest, to lean in and kiss him. Slow, solid, and steady.

He returns the kiss and slips his arms around her, not having words for a few long moments before he responds, "Nothin' wrong with flirtin'. But he better keep his fingers t'himself if he wants to keep 'em," he says.

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