Back at the Institute, the chaos was already setting in. Bobby had conjured up a massive ice cooler in the middle of the rec room, filling it to the brim with soda cans, each clinking softly against the frozen surface.

  He stepped back, admiring his work. "That'll do."

  Jubilee, meanwhile, was eyeing the center of the living room like a mad scientist.

  "Ayo, Bobby, what if we, like, made a slide in the middle of the living room?"

  Bobby paused, clearly intrigued by the idea, but before he could answer—

  "You will do no such thing, Jubilation Lee."

  Storm’s voice carried through the room with effortless authority. She stood with her arms crossed, regal and unamused, the very picture of a disappointed parental figure.

  Jubilee groaned. "But Stormy—"

  "No buts, young lady. This is a respectable place, not your chaotic amusement park."

  Jubilee, halfway through a king-sized Hershey’s bar, turned to Storm with wide, sugar-fueled puppy eyes.

  "But I only had half of it—let me have this."

  Before Storm could respond, a gruff voice cut in from behind.

  "’Ro, give the kiddo some room. It was a tough week."

  Logan stepped into the room, beer already in hand, his usual scowl in place but with the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

  Storm sighed, turning her piercing gaze toward him. "Logan, do not enable her. This is bad for her health."

  Logan shrugged, taking a casual sip. "C’mon, ‘Ro, once a week never killed anyone. This can’t be worse than raw bison liver."

  Jubilee froze mid-bite, looking up at him in pure horror. "Ew. You ate that, Uncle Wolvie?"

  Logan glanced at her, nonchalant. "It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds."

  Before the conversation could go any further, Jubilee’s eyes flickered toward the hallway—and there they were. Alamo and Rogue, walking side by side, heading somewhere with clear intent. She wasted no time, sprinting toward them.

  "Goin’ somewhere, huh?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  Both Rogue and Alamo narrowed their eyes in unison.

  "Ah got Mr. Butt here a new pair of jeans," Rogue said, tilting the shopping bag in her hand.

  Alamo huffed, adjusting his hat. "Thank ya fer the consideration, huh?"

  Jubilee grinned like a fox. "Where you two headed?"

  "We’re goin’ after Remy and She-Hulk," Rogue replied, rolling her shoulders. "Nobody seems to know where they are."

  Jubilee tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Have you guys tried the Danger Room?"

  Alamo and Rogue exchanged glances.

  "Who trains—Oh… Oh." Rogue started, the realization slowly hitting her. "No way."

  Jubilee giggled. "Yes way."

  Alamo pinched the bridge of his nose. "What are y’all suggestin’ here?"

  Jubilee gave Alamo a knowing look. "Oh, you already know, Dunkie."

  Without another word, they rushed down the halls, past the various training rooms, through the sleek, sterile metal corridors leading to the Danger Room. As they approached, faint thuds could be heard through the walls.

  Alamo sighed. "Oh no."

  Rogue reached the console, the green lights on the display flickering: OCCUPIED.

  "Occupied mah ass." She cracked her knuckles before typing in the override codes.

  With a low mechanical hiss, the door slid open—

  —and immediately they regretted it.

  "OH SHIT!" Jubilee howled with laughter, nearly doubling over.

  "REMY!" Rogue shrieked, her eyes going wide.

  Inside, Gambit was scrambling to pull his trench coat over himself, looking incredibly disheveled. His signature smirk was nowhere to be found. He had green lipstick marks all over his face. She-Hulk shot them a look, not a happy one either.

  "ROGUE, GET OUTTA 'ERE!"

  Alamo tipped his hat up and smirked. "Y’know, I find the name ‘Danger Room’ criminally misleadin’."

  Gambit, face still flushed, grabbed a playing card from the trench coat pocket and threw it at them on reflex. The pink-glowing card sizzled as it hurtled toward the door.

  Alamo casually stepped forward, snatching it mid-air. The kinetic charge flickered and dimmed as his hand absorbed the energy.

  Jubilee was howling at this point. "Not again, Gambit!"

  She-Hulk’s brow shot up, her head snapping toward Remy.

  "AGAIN?" she growled, crossing her arms. "What they mean again, Remy?"

  Gambit froze.

  "You bring people here often?"

  "No, chere, don’ listen to dem, dey just throwin’ shade is all—GET OUT, GET OUT NOW!"

  Rogue didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed Jubilee by the wrist and yanked her back down the hallway, dragging her still-cackling friend along.

  "What the hell was that position." Jubilee asked.

  "The shut the fuck up an' don't ask position." Rogue answered she tried to keep a composed look, but she was barely able to hold her own laughter.

  Alamo followed, arms crossed, shaking his head.

  "Goddamn X-Men."

  Back in the living room, the atmosphere had only grown rowdier. The cooler Bobby had conjured was now filled with drinks, music played from the speakers, and half the younger mutants were already getting into some sort of unnecessary competition.

  Before they could fully rejoin the madness, Jean approached them, her usual composed demeanor tinged with mild exasperation.

  "Rogue, have you found Gambit and She-Hulk?"

  Rogue sighed, rubbing her temples. "Yeah, they’re busy."

  Jean gave her a suspicious look. "What kind of busy?"

  Rogue held up a hand. "Jean, look—"

  Jubilee grinned wickedly. "They’re havin’ fun with each other in the Danger Room."

  Jean blinked. Then blinked again. "What? Again?"

  Alamo turned his head sharply, looking increasingly exasperated. "Wait, how many times did Gambit do this?"

  Rogue waved a dismissive hand. "Don’t worry ‘bout it, sugah. Remy can’t keep it inside his pants."

  Alamo let out a long sigh, tipping his hat back slightly. "Well, ain’t that just… somethin’."

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Jubilee, still grinning, leaned in. "You know he’s technically still married, right?"

  Alamo blinked. "What?"

  Jean facepalmed. "Jubilee, stop being nosy."

  Jubilee shrugged. "I mean, c’mon, that’s pretty juicy gossip."

  Jean sighed and turned to Alamo. "I’m sorry this is your first experience in the Institute, Duncan."

  Alamo smirked, adjusting his hat. "Well, I reckon it could’ve been worse… least ain’t nobody tryin’ to read my mind or anythin’." He shot her a knowing look. "If y’know what I mean."

  Jean rolled her eyes but smiled. "I respect people’s boundaries, don’t worry." Then she turned back to Rogue. "Rogue, Hank needs help with the Blackbird in the hangar. He said it would be quick. Could you—"

  "Ah’m on it." Rogue stretched her arms, already heading toward the exit. Before she left, she shot Duncan a glance over her shoulder. "Y’all don’t go ‘round breakin’ everythin’ now. See ya soon, Cowboy."

  Duncan nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Oh yeah, sure. I’ll be here."

  Rogue smirked. "Ya better don’t run away now."

  Alamo leaned back slightly, giving her a casual grin. "Wouldn’t miss it fer the world."

  Jean gave them both a knowing look before stepping away. "I’ll get Scott."

  Rogue took a bit longer to disappear from sight, she was far in the distance now gone as she took the corner in the hallway.

  Jubilee narrowed her eyes at Alamo.

  "Dude, you’re droolin’. Stop it."

  Alamo snapped his head toward her, deadpan. "Oh, fuck off. Also get me one of em' Dr.Peppers, Jujubee"

  Jubilee just cackled, already digging through the cooler for another soda.

  "Did you just call me Jujubee?" She handled him the soda.

  "Yup" He opened it, non-chalantly drinking it.

  Jubilee looked away and blushed slightly, rubbing her right arm slowly.

  Alamo simply raised an eyebrow.

  "Does it bother you?"

  "No, You big goof. It doesn't bother me."

  Bobby appeared, skating effortlessly across the ground, leaving a thin layer of frost in his wake. He came to a sharp stop near Jubilee and Alamo, grinning like a kid with a plan.

  "Alamo, Jubes…"

  Jubilee tilted her head. "Bobby, what is it?"

  Bobby waggled his eyebrows mischievously. "I thought of something fun we can do…"

  Jubilee immediately perked up. "Oh, hell yeah."

  Alamo, however, narrowed his eyes. "I already regret this."

  Bobby’s grin widened. "Follow me."

  And with that, he slid off down the hall, leaving behind a faint trail of frost.

  Few Moments Later

  In a secluded wing of the mansion, far from the noise of the party, Ororo Munroe took a moment for herself. She stood before a mirror, gently applying a cooling gel to her face. The years had been kind to her—her skin, kissed by time yet untouched by weariness, glowed under the soft lighting.

  She knew she’d be on alert duty tonight, as she always was when the younger X-Men got too rowdy. Normally, she saved her skincare routine for before bed, but tonight, she saw fit to indulge in it now. A moment of peace before the storm.

  Then came a knock.

  She exhaled softly and moved toward the door. As she opened it, her sharp blue eyes met Logan’s.

  No longer covered in blood, no scent of violence clinging to him—just the faint musk of cigars, leather, and something familiar. He stood in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a plain white tank top, holding a glass filled with a dark green liquid.

  "'Ro, I brought some of that juice ya asked for. ‘Fore the kids took over the kitchen."

  Ororo arched a brow, taking the glass from his hand. "I didn’t prepare any of this juice, Logan. How did you—"

  "I made it for ya."

  A small smile played on her lips. "So kind, Logan." She brought the glass to her lips, taking a small sip. Then she paused. "Logan, did you spike this?"

  Logan shrugged, barely suppressing a smirk. "Just a bit of vodka, ‘Ro. A lil’ bit of edge."

  Ororo sighed, shaking her head. "You silly little man."

  Logan chuckled, his rough voice warm with amusement.

  "Come in."

  Logan hesitated, waiting for her to motion him inside. When she did, he stepped through the doorway.

  Ororo moved to sit on the edge of the bed, crossing one long, graceful leg over the other. She gently put her drink away on her nightstand.

  Logan remained standing for a moment before she gave him a small nod. He sat beside her, resting his elbows on his knees.

  For a moment, neither spoke. The distant hum of the mansion filled the silence. Then, softly, Ororo asked—

  "Tell me… did you go berserk in D.C.?"

  Logan’s jaw tightened. His gaze flickered toward the window, distant, unreadable.

  "I might have gone…" He exhaled slowly. "I did."

  Ororo’s fingers, soft and steady, rested gently on his shoulder.

  "Logan, we’ve spoken about this." Her voice was calm, measured. "You have to hold your breath. Remember the people who need you. Kitty. Jubilee. Anna Marie…" She paused, her eyes searching his. "Me."

  Logan let out a gruff chuckle, shaking his head. "Since when ya need anyone, ‘Ro?"

  Her fingers pressed slightly against his shoulder.

  "Nobody is alone, Logan."

  Before he could respond, there was a sharp crack outside.

  Logan’s head snapped toward the door, instincts on edge. His fingers flexed slightly, as if readying for a fight.

  Then he exhaled, shaking his head. "Jus’ the kids."

  Storm sighed, shaking her head at the inevitable chaos. Then, without missing a beat, she continued.

  "I need you too." Her voice was softer now, almost imperceptible. "You’re not alone, Logan. You’re never alone."

  Logan crossed his arms, staring at the floor.

  "People here look up to you," she continued, her voice steady. "They see you as a good man. A man they can trust."

  Logan let out a low breath. "I just wanted to make sure they paid. These people took too many good lives, ‘Ro."

  Storm’s gaze didn’t waver.

  "You can’t hold the weight of the world alone."

  Logan sat in silence for a long moment. Then, finally, he gave a slow nod.

  Outside, the muffled sounds of laughter and music continued. The party raged on. But in this small, quiet corner of the mansion, a different of tension was going on.

  Logan sat in silence, his thoughts drifting through the decades, through blood-soaked battlefields and broken promises. The weight of it all settled in his chest like a heavy stone. He had seen too much, done too much. Some days, he wondered if it would ever leave him.

  Storm’s hand, warm and deliberate, gently caressed his cheek, her fingers tracing just above the edge of his chops.

  "You’re a good man, Logan."

  The words were soft but firm, a quiet certainty in a world of doubt.

  CRACK.

  Both of them froze, the sudden sound pulling them out of the moment. Logan tensed, already rising from the bed, but Storm reached out, catching his wrist.

  "I’m not done."

  Logan let out a slow breath and sat back down. "Go on, Stormy."

  Her eyes never left his. "Next time you feel the lust for blood, remember the people who love you."

  His smirk was faint, almost hesitant. He pressed his lips together in thought.

  And then, without a word, she leaned in.

  Her fingers trailed along his jaw, her touch feather-light but steady, pulling him closer. He didn’t resist.

  Their lips met—soft at first, but charged, like the first rumble of thunder before the storm. A shiver ran down his spine, an electric current coursing through them both.

  CRACK.

  Storm and Wolverine immediately pulled back, turning toward the window. Instincts took over as they moved in sync, barely making a sound as they parted the blinds just enough to see outside.

  There, illuminated under the glow of the moonlight, were three figures in the courtyard.

  Jubilee. Alamo. Iceman.

  Iceman was tossing ceramic plates into the air, launching them three at a time in a precise arc.

  Alamo stood with his legs apart, shoulders loose, his fingers curled into the shape of a gun. He raised his right hand, cocking his left palm against his thumb in rapid succession—like the hammer of an old-school single-action revolver.

  Each time, a plasma shot fired from his fingertip, shattering the plates midair with pinpoint accuracy.

  "Dude, it’s like that guy who can split playing cards with his bullets!" Bobby gasped, practically bouncing in excitement.

  Alamo tipped his hat slightly, never breaking concentration. "Bob Munden."

  "Hell yeah! Your turn, Jubes!" Bobby motioned to the next row of plates.

  Jubilee grinned wide.

  Inside, Logan let out a slow exhale, shaking his head.

  "Goddamn kids."

  Storm smirked, crossing her arms. "At least they aren’t blowing up the mansion. Yet."

  Logan chuckled lowly. "Yet."

  Then out of nowhere Storm’s eyes widened in horror.

  "Wait—are those my decorative porcelain plates?!"

  The air shifted. The night darkened. A thick veil of clouds rolled over the moon, casting long shadows over the courtyard. The temperature dropped.

  Then, before any of them could react, Storm threw the window open and flew out, her eyes glowing an unearthly white.

  A deep rumble of thunder cracked overhead.

  "What?" Alamo muttered, feeling a sudden sense of dread.

  Storm’s voice boomed like the heavens themselves.

  "DUNCAN NENNI! JUBILATION LEE! ROBERT DRAKE… WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY PLATES?!"

  Jubilee’s jaw dropped as she turned to Bobby.

  "Those were Storm’s dishes?!"

  Bobby, still holding an extra plate in his hand, shrugged and smiled.

  Alamo’s face twisted into sheer frustration.

  "Ya two are Fuckin’ assholes."

  Without hesitation, he grabbed Jubilee and Bobby by the waist, his plasma igniting beneath him in a blinding trail of fire and light as he launched into the sky.

  The world blurred around them as they shot across the courtyard at breakneck speed, the sheer force of the takeoff nearly ripping Jubilee’s sunglasses off her face.

  Behind them, Storm rose into the air, a swirling tempest forming around her, rain starting to drizzle in icy needles.

  In a blur of movement.

  Logan leapt from the window, claws extended, his silhouette cutting against the flickering lightning above.

  "Jesus Christ, y’all X-Men are insane!" Alamo shouted as they rocketed toward the treetops.

  Jubilee just laughed. "FASTER, COWBOY!"

  Bobby, still dangling under Alamo’s grip, let out a nervous chuckle. "Hey, uh… do we have a plan for landing?"

  Storm was gaining, but Alamo was faster.

  After a while, he thought he had lost her and returned to the mansion.

  Alamo landed smoothly in a quiet corner of the mansion grounds, his plasma trails dimming as he touched down. He carefully set Jubilee and Bobby down, making sure they landed on solid ground before stepping back, stretching his shoulders.

  The distant crackling of thunder told him Storm was still coming.

  He let out a slow breath. "I’ll talk to her. No more of this… y’all understand?"

  Jubilee gave a lazy salute. "Yessir."

  "Yeah!" Bobby nodded quickly, definitely not wanting to feel the wrath of Storm.

  Alamo nodded, then ignited his plasma once more, lifting off into the air, flying back to meet Storm head-on.

  As he disappeared into the sky, Jubilee put her hands on her hips, watching him go.

  "So hot, man."

  Bobby, still watching the sky, absentmindedly nodded. "Yeah."

  Jubilee turned her head toward him, her grin growing slowly.

  "What?"

  Bobby suddenly froze, blinking rapidly as his brain caught up with his mouth.

  "Oh… erm… I mean, on the account of him being plasma, y’know. I’m ice, his grip was indeed hot, y'know like temperature... and that alone…" He struggled with words, waving his hands wildly as if he could physically push the awkwardness away.

  Jubilee raised an eyebrow, her smirk unrelenting.

  "Ahem, Bobby, are you interested?"

  Bobby flinched. "What? No, no. I’m totally into women, y’know, not men at all. Don’t be ridiculous, Jubes."

  Jubilee hummed, tapping her chin.

  "Yeah… sure..."

  Bobby crossed his arms, suddenly very focused on not making eye contact.

  Jubilee just grinned wider, already mentally filing this moment away for future teasing opportunities.