twolouises | Telepathic drunk texting with Logan

It was all well and good for your friends to be the kind of people who would keep you from unwisely drunk texting, but in some cases, it just wasn't enough. Like if you happened to have a super powerful telepathic brain, for instance. Sure, Jean could have had Rachel be her telepathic backup, but that would have required a level of forethought that Jean was resolutely avoiding these days. Too much stress, not enough fun.

So a warm, laughing voice suddenly filled Logan's mind: "You are a bad influence and clearly rubbing off on me, because a guy just tried to hit on me and I growled at him." Popping up randomly in people's minds was bad psychic etiquette, but Jean was feeling a little void of connection and Logan hadn't complained about it yet.

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From:

isntverynice

Logan didn't mind Jean's voice in his head during this kind of time, the downtime between missions. This was the kind of time that Logan wanted to spend either drowning his trauma or getting his mind right; if 'mindfulness' didn't sound like something douchebags did, Logan would probably call it mindfulness.

Right now, the only things Jean was likely to interrupt would be Logan's excessive drinking or his reading poetry; this time, it was both at once. He put down the book (he liked the bluntness of Larkin, his no-nonsense beauty) and smiled, leaning back on the sparse bed in his sparse room. "See?" he thought, warmth filling his insides. "Growling works evrey time."

From:

phoenixforced

Jean was taking a break from dancing and guarding the table they'd commandeered. "I dunno, some people might be kind of into it," she teased, taking a sip of her drink. "I'd summon a very disapproving vision of you to warn people off before I had to, but I think your presence, even imaginary, would violate the rules of girls' night."

From:

isntverynice

"A girls' night, huh. What happens on a girls' night?" Logan wasn't sure he wanted to know.

From:

phoenixforced

She could feel his uncertainty and laughed. "Mostly we drink and dance and make fun of boys who try to hit on us."

From:

isntverynice

"I bet they're all trying to hit on you," Logan thought, and he was sure his smirk was quite clear in his mind.

From:

phoenixforced

"Only after they strike out with Kate. She's very pretty, and way scarier than I am. She knows kung fu." Jean was pretty sure it wasn't actually kung fu but one or more of the other martial arts, but it was all the same to her, especially when drinking.

From:

isntverynice

Logan's interest was piqued -- not in Kate (no one was as pretty as Jean, and he didn't care that she probably caught that message), but in the idea of Jean's friends being involved in martial arts in some way. "Kate sounds cool," he allowed, "But I bet they're just talking to her until they can get to you."

From:

phoenixforced

"Just because you're incredibly biased"--yes, she'd caught that thought--"doesn't mean everyone is," she admonished fondly. "And all my friends are very cool."

There was a brief pause, a quiet, and then Jean seemed to be sitting in bed next to Logan, legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankle. "So, what are you up to tonight?" she asked, as if astrally projecting into someone's bedroom wasn't alarming.

From:

isntverynice

"I'd still pick you every time, Red," Logan told her -- and meant it, oh how he meant it.

Okay, so, the astral projection thing was a big much. But Logan had seen weirder things in his time. Hell, he was a weirder thing. And he loved that of all the places in the world (probably universe) that Jean could be, she'd chosen to be here. He smiled at her form.

"Quiet night for old Logan," he told her. "Drinkin', reading poetry. The usual."

From:

phoenixforced

Jean didn't make use of this part of her powers all that much. Okay, she'd astrally projected into class a time or two to avoid missing something important, but it wasn't a habit. She could see things, hear things, touch things; most people wouldn't be able to tell the difference between her actual body and her astral body if she paid attention to the little details like making them think they smelled her. She didn't bother with Logan because it wasn't about convincing him of anything, was it? It was just about being there.

"Poetry, huh? Why don't you read me something?" She tucked herself against his side like she had every right to be there and waited for him to do just that.

From:

isntverynice

Honestly, Logan appreciated the company. It touched him in a way he couldn't quite articulate, and in a way he didn't want to articulate. Logan lived a difficult life. Violence was his purpose, calling card, and only skill or talent he had to offer anybody. To be cared about, to have company that wasn't about violence, that wasn't asking him to be brutal or brutalised, was a relief.

He paused for a moment, about to brush off Jean's request, but instead he pushed through the momentary bashfulness, and flipped to a favorite.

"When I see a couple of kids And guess he’s fucking her and she’s Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm, I know this is paradise

Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives— Bonds and gestures pushed to one side Like an outdated combine harvester, And everyone young going down the long slide

To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if Anyone looked at me, forty years back, And thought,

That’ll be the life;No God any more, or sweating in the darkAbout hell and that, or having to hide What you think of the priest. HeAnd his lot will all go down the long slide Like free bloody birds. And immediately

Rather than words comes the thought of high windows: The sun-comprehending glass, And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless."

From:

phoenixforced

There wasn't a lot that Jean really knew about Logan, when it came down to it. So when she found something out--something true, something real--it became precious, a rare thing to take care of. She listened to him read, listened to the words, the sound of his voice, the way that he breathed. Then she wrapped it all up together--the poem, the way he felt about it--and committed to keeping it safe. "Thank you."

From:

isntverynice

Logan didn't trust anything real about him to anyone. Well, maybe Laura, but that was different; they had something in common.

He was never as exposed as this, and he was grateful that Jean took it the way she did, with gravity and discretion and appreciation. "So now you know my darkest secret," he said, lightly. "Poetry."

From:

phoenixforced

"Your secret's safe with me," Jean promised, miming zipping her lips and throwing away the key. She liked having a secret between them, one that wasn't dark at all.

From:

isntverynice

Jean was so goddamn adorable. Logan wasn't sure what to do about it, how to handle it; he knew Jean was off-limits right now and that was fine, because what would Logan do with her anyway? He was rough, his hands were rough, the thing he had done were inexplicable. He sighed, a small, resigned sigh, but thought in her direction some kind of smile. "Do you have time for poetry in that busy brain of yours?"

From:

phoenixforced

"If you're reading it to me, I'll just have to make time, won't I?" Jean flashed him a grin before her head suddenly swiveled, looking over her shoulder at someone who wasn't there. Or at least not there in Logan's bedroom. She turned back to him, just a little sheepish. "Uh oh, I've been found out. Better go buy my friends some drinks before I get in trouble for cheating on girls' night. See you later?"