Like Calls To Like
He tells himself it's just a crush. Nothing to worry about, nothing to get worked up over. He doesn't need to beat himself up over something so small -- even though she is only nineteen.
Some small part of his brain tells him that she is legal, after all.
When he returned, he started noticing her in ways he never had before. She was spunky, tireless, and her body was most definitely female. He never been attracted to dark hair before, preferring blondes and, of course, redheads, but something about her drew him in. Was it her eyes, eyes much too mature for her young face, that made him feel like less of an old man, a lecher, and more of a young, desirable stud?
Or was it her just that her entire being screamed wild sexuality, and like called to like?
Once, he caught himself staring at her during dinner. His senses were attuned to her, listening to her breath, her heartbeat, her voice, watching the way she ate. He quickly averted his eyes, focusing on his food instead. It was too bad that beef stir-fry was no substitute for the sight of her.
Is the mighty, fearless Wolverine in love with a girl young enough to be his daughter? Or, he concedes, to be his granddaughter?
He begins to spend more and more time in the Danger Room, beating the hell out of imaginary bad guys to keep his mind off of her body. The worst days are the ones when she insists on accompanying him. He can barely keep his hands off her as they spar, he in loose sweats and she in spandex, which he thinks shouldn't even be considered clothing. Instead of critiquing her after each session, as he does with the other students, he rushes to the showers, dousing himself -- and his lecherous libido -- in cold water. And sometimes, not even that helps.
He knows he needs to tell someone, to get this off his chest so he can get some sleep. Jeannie seemed like the logical choice, but she still thinks he's in love with her, and he hates to burst her bubble. She's a sweetheart, but a bit dense for a telepath. The Professor, he is sure, already knows, as he has given him more than one disapproving look. But can't he see that Logan doesn't want to want her? That he agonizes day and night -- especially night -- about it? He tries to get her out of his head, but she's not leaving.
So he goes to the one person that knows him better than he knows himself to confess what even he doesn't understand. Marie listens as he spills his secret, as he reveals the desires he's kept hidden for months. She doesn't judge him when he tells her he's in love with her best friend, that he craves the touch of a woman many years younger, that he doesn't want Marie. "Well," she murmurs, finally, "Jubilee is a beautiful young woman."