It’s too nice a day to be inside.
So Logan’s towed his class outside, letting them have a break before the veritable hellscape that is Slim’s Danger Room course. He doesn’t realize Vic’s outside too until she’s sitting next to him in the grass. Her skirt poofs out around her, and she’s smiling faintly as she smooths it out.
“Ay,” Logan greets, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a cigar. Lights it on his claw, inhaling the smoke and letting it burn all the way down.
“Ay,” Vic responds. She shifts to sit cross-legged, putting her hands in her lap. her knuckles glint with rings, and Logan idly thumbs his own— Ororo’s ring, really, tucked onto the same chain as his dog tags. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching right now?”
“I’m teachin’ them th’ importance of a work-life balance.”
“Gabby is chasing Quentin.”
“See? Education. Survival skills.”
Vic snorts. She’s never really laughed, Logan thinks— always just huffs. He probably picked it up from her, somewhere along the way.
“Nice dress,” he tells her, because it is— long and purple, silky, the type that most definitely shouldn’t be mucked up in the dirt of the X-Mansion lawn.
“Ororo helped me pick it out,” she says, vaguely shy.
“Think it should be out here?”
“Things can be washed.” A side glance, looking him up and down. “But that might be news ta you.”
“Hilarious as always, Victoria.”
“I know, right?” She preens, and he looks down to hide his grin. “I can fuckin’ see that, Jimmy.”
“No, actually. You can’t. Dunno what’cher talkin’ ‘bout.”
Vic scoffs a laugh, leaning back on her hands to look out at the kids. It’s a veritable free-for-all, out on the grass, some kind of tag. It reminds Logan faintly of when they were little, when the village kids would be nice enough to play with them for a few hours until their parents whisked them away.
Vic’s ears twitch just a moment before Logan feels that telltale rush of wind that signifies Ororo. He leans backwards, tipping his head back to grin up at his wife, and gets a hand smoothing down his hair for it.
“Hello, Logan,” she smiles. “Victoria.”
“Ororo,” Vic greets, smiling in a way that’s surprisingly careful not to show her fangs. “Nice t’ see ya.”
Ororo smiles down at her, and Logan pretends to ignore the way Vic’s face turns red. That’s for Vic to figure out. Eventually. “Lovely to see you, too. What are you two doing out here?”
“Took th’ kids outside,” Logan gestures at his students.
“Just got bored,” Vic shrugs,
—
“Logan?” Ororo asks, eventually, lying on her back in their shared bed.
Logan hums, twirling his fingers in her braids. “Yeah, darl’?”
“I think Victoria is in love with me.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Does she know?” Ororo asks, a smile twitching at her mouth.
A snort. “Absolutely not. Give it time.”
—
Logan hears Vic outside of his room before he actually sees her.
Because she slams his door open, quite obviously panicking a little.
“What’s–”
“I have a crush on your wife,” she says before he can actually get anything out, and Logan’s actually a little proud she figured it out that fast. “I’m sorry.”
“Ororo?”
“Do you, by any chance, have a wife that isn’t Ororo Munroe?”
“Nope.” Logan grins a little at the frustrated noise she makes. She slumps into his chair, dropping her head into her hands. Digs her claws into her forehead.
“Fuuuuck.”
“Stop having a crisis.”
“I am in love with a married woman! And also maybe you, but I only have time for one panic right now, so please let me get over this.”
“Victoria,” Logan presses, and she looks up at him. “Be normal for a second and listen to me.”
“I’m fucking listening.”
“Victoria Creed, you are the polar opposite of subtle.” Vic opens her mouth to argue, baring fangs, and he plows on before she can. “‘Roro knows. Because she isn’t stupid. She’s been waiting for you to figure it out.”
Her mouth, which has been open, clicks shut. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re fine with it?”
“She’s fine with it. That’s what I care about.”
“So if I, hypothetically, took her out on a date?”
“Be my guest.” Snikt. “Long as you take her somewhere nice.”
“Fuckin’ obviously!”
—
Ororo, to Vic’s genuine surprise, agrees to a date.
Vic’s been on dates before. Of course she has. But never as Victoria. So, in a desperate attempt to figure out what to do, she recruits some of the students to help her get ready.
Jubilee, as expected, squeals when Vic approaches her with the request. “Oh my god, yes! We’re gonna make you look so good! Storm’s not gonna know what hit her.”
After an immense amount of wheedling and begging from Jubilee, Kitty, Laura and Bobby are successfully dragged in for help. Vic sits patiently on the floor so Bobby can braid it, and the girls argue nonsensically over what she should wear.
“Vic. Vic,” Kitty gets her attention, holding up one of the dresses Jubilee got her ages ago– a soft white, patterned blue with flowers. “This?”
“It looks like a picnic,” Laura scoffs. “Vic, where are you taking her?”
“Tatiana.”
“Jesus Christ, how rich are you?” Bobby asks, letting her hair fall back down and restarting the plait.
“...I’m a mercenary. Very.”
“Maybe I should be a mercenary,” Laura mutters, and Vic tosses a pillow at her head. “Ack–”
“Nope.”
“This one!” Jubilee tosses a dress at Vic. Bobby swears, restarting on her hair again.
The dress is gold and black, shifting hues in the light like a coin. Vic blinks at it, and then shrugs, letting it pool in her lap. “Okay.”
“Yes!” Jubilee beams, and Kitty sighs.
“I wanna do your makeup,” she directs at her, and sits down in front of Vic with her makeup bag.
“Don’t make me look horrible.”
“Ha-ha.
—
Ororo stands in front of the mirror, hands on her hips, gazing at her own outfit. A pure white pantsuit, black belt, gold jewelry. She pulls her braids up into a ponytail. Glares at it. Pulls it back out.
Logan sits in his chair, watching her get ready. “You look great, ‘Roro. Stop worrying.”
“I’m not worrying.” She’s so worrying.
“You’re so worrying.”
She sighs, crossing her arms and examining herself in the mirror. “Do you think this is too much?”
“No. You look amazing.” Logan stands up, crosses over to her. Stands beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Are you really that nervous about what Vic thinks?”
“I suppose not.” Ororo can’t help but smile, resting her hand on Logan’s. “She’s gotten… kinder.”
“She’s figured herself out.” Logan shrugs. “I was a dick of a little girl.”
Ororo can’t help but laugh. “Should I ask Victoria about that one?”
“If you want.”
There’s a knock at the door before either of them can say anything else. Ororo swears, tugging her hair out of a thick ponytail again, and Logan follows her to the door. He opens it, and Vic looks a whole lot more anxious than she just did.
“Hi,” she breathes out.
“Hi,” Ororo says back.
Logan looks between them with an unassuming look. “You two have fun.” A kiss to Ororo’s cheek, a kiss to Vic’s. “Be safe, use protection or… whatever. Text me when you get there.”
“Yep.” Vic awkwardly offers her arm to Ororo, who takes it. “Um. Bye, Logan.”
“Bye.” He waves until Ororo’s past the threshold of the door, and then shuts it behind them.
———
Vic is fucking stressing.
She knows, realistically, she shouldn’t be. She’s been on hundreds of dates before, with girls not quite as amazing as Ororo but… yeah. It’s different as Victoria, somehow. She doesn’t quite know how to be a girl in public.
Ororo makes it look so amazingly effortless. One hand on her hip, one wrapped around Vic’s upper arm, steps carefully swaying. Vic tries to copy her and realizes she looks absolutely stupid, so she stops.
“Reservation under Creed,” she says to the host at the restaurant. The poor woman looks up, sees Sabretooth in front of her, and visibly pales.
“I— um— of course! Of course, sir, right this way—“
Vic can see Ororo pressing her lips into a thin line out of the corner of her eye. This is already going horribly.
They sit down, and Vic can feel people staring, and shrinks down a little. She doesn’t know why. Even just a little while ago, she would’ve bared fangs and claws at them for daring to look at her funny.
She feels a hand on hers and realizes, belatedly, it’s Ororo’s.
“People used to treat me like this, too,” she says softly. Kindly. “You’ll get used to it. And once you’re used to it, you don’t notice anymore.”
“Really?”
“Do I look like I care if people look at me oddly?”
Vic personally doesn’t believe anyone would dare to look at Storm funny. She’s too ethereal for that.
“…No?”
“Exactly.” Ororo picks up the menu, one hand still laid over Vic’s.
Vic takes a calculated risk and turns her hand over, wrapping her fingers around Ororo’s smaller, slimmer hand. It gets a smile, hidden slightly as Ororo looks down.
Talk to her, idiot, a voice that sounds a whole lot
like Birdy’s whispers in her mind.
“Um. What do you think you’re going to get?” Great
work.
Ororo chews on her lip idly. Vic very much wants to kiss that. Can she? That’s probably not what a girl would do on the first date. “I’m not sure. How about you order for me?”
“Oh! Sure?”
Eventually, a waitress comes over to fill their cups with water.
“We can order now,” Vic says, and has to stop herself from frowning at the look she gets. “Um, we’ll have the shawarma roasted chicken. To share.”
“Of course, sir.” Vic holds back another wince, and Ororo looks visibly displeased.
“And I’ll have a glass of the Merlot,” Ororo adds to their waitress. “My girlfriend will have a Pinot noir.”
“Of— of course, ma’am.” The waitress looks a little embarrassed. She nods and hurries away.
“I think I’m actually in love with you,” Vic mumbles, and her face turns red when Ororo laughs.
“You’re cute.”
Oh. My god.
“Really?”
“I’ve heard stories about you,” Ororo says idly. “Fought you, of course.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re much nicer now.”
“It’s a work in progress,” Vic admits.
“Aren’t we all?”
——
When their food arrives, they eat in relative silence. Vic pays— she insists, even when Ororo tries to pull out her wallet.
Once they’re out of the restaurant, Ororo intertwines her hand with Vic’s, tugs her gently down the sidewalk. “Come on. Date’s not over yet.”
Vic lets herself be tugged along, following Ororo down the sidewalk with a laugh. “Seriously? I thought I was supposed to plan it.”
“Whoever said that?” Ororo smiles back at her, and Vic physically can’t help but smile back. She forgets to close her mouth, baring fangs in her grin, and Ororo doesn’t even notice.
—-
It ends up being a park. A very nice park, every pathway lit by soft fairy lights. Ororo buys them both slushies from a vendor (”You paid for the food, ‘Toria, it’s my turn!”) and they walk down the paths hand in hand, mostly in silence.
“I’m glad you’re happier now,” Ororo tells her eventually. Vic looks over at her, and for once doesn’t feel like she’s dwarfing everyone else around her. It’s
nice. “Your smile is nice.”
Vic resists the urge to snort.
“I’m being serious.”
“‘Roro, I’ve got a mouthful of fangs.”
“And you’re beautiful.”
There’s a fountain in a crossroads of four paths. Ororo tugs Vic over and they sit down on the edge of the fountain.
Vic puts her slushie down to the side. Takes another risk and puts her arm around Ororo’s shoulder, and—
Spills Ororo’s red slushie all over her suit.
“Oh my god— oh, I’m so sorry—“
Ororo makes a displeased little noise, but for the first time… maybe ever, it doesn’t sound aimed at Vic. “We can wash it when we get home. Suppose that’s what we get for buying those in white dresses.”
It lessens some pressure in Vic’s chest. “It’s a miracle I didn’t spill sauce all over myself at dinner. My hands are big.”
Ororo presses their palms flat together, almost absentmindedly. Her nails are a soft off-white, and Vic’s are black, and her thumb rubs a little circle into Vic’s palm. “I like your hands.”
Vic watches Ororo quietly for a moment. Ororo rests her head on Vic’s shoulder, and Vic rests her hand in Ororo’s lap.
“I like you.”
“Mn. So do I, Victoria.”
It doesn’t sound like a lie.