STORY SUMMARY: Domestic life with the X-Men.

DISCLAIMERS: All characters and organizations (with the exception of small, mostly unnamed minor characters) are the product of Marvel.

CANONICAL NOTES: This story arc accepts movieverse canon for First Class, X1, X2, and X3. XO (Origins) is ignored. Powers for major characters follow movieverse, with the exception of Remy LeBeau/Gambit who is based on comicverse.

LANGUAGE AND ACCENTS: Cajun French is courtesy of Heavenmetal (many thanks). I will attempt to reproduce accents in this story arc.

Dorm Daddy Driver's Ed

- 2a -

Story Summary: Some people really did need to learn how to drive.

Canonical Notes: Set somewhere after X3.

Author's Note: Prompted by LithiumAddict.

Logan thought it was bad teaching the girls how to drive a jet. And then he was informed as "dorm daddy"—he gave 'Ro a double-take and got back a smirk—that he had been requested by three separate young and dangerous individuals (her exact words were "three of our girls"—earning another double-take and gaining him another smirk) to help them pass their drive tests.

Then he found himself, keys in hand, gaping at 'Ro as she departed down the hallway with a definitive and inviting swish to her step. He closed his mouth, rubbed his jaw, and cursed.

"I don't think y'all are supposed to do that in a school," Rogue said softly from the corner, textbooks held protectively over her torso.

Logan glared at her. "Make some noise, kid!"

She laughed at him. "What? The nose broke?"

He growled and grabbed her by the shoulder gently. She squeaked in surprise, but let him drag her down the hallway.

"Driver's ed. And don't make me regret it." He gave her one more warning glare for good measure.

Rogue giggled. "Sure, sugah."

He regretted it. Healing factor or not, there was something unnatural about Rogue's perhaps secondary superpower for giving somebody whiplash.

"Press the accelerator, Rogue! And keep your foot on it!"

"But you just said, 'Brake,'" she protested.

The car jerked to an abrupt halt, and his body lurched forward against the seat belt—again.

"The car! Not me."

"Right." Rogue glanced around nervously.

She had stopped about three car lengths in front of the next stop sign and corner. Logan thanked his lucky stars there was no one else on this stretch of road. He rubbed against his healing neck and started mentally planning a trip to the chiropractor for her.

"Okay," he said. "Now, slowly depress the accelerator and just hold it nice and steady."

Rogue bit her lip and stepped on the gas.

"Steady!" he yelled. "Not zero to sixty!"

She slammed both feet on the brake and his head slammed against the windshield.

"Logan, you okay?" Rogue unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over the middle to look at him.

"Kid," he finally managed. "I'm driving back."


She looked disappointed, mouth drooping, eyes downcast. He'd almost do anything to wipe that look off her face.

She handed him the keys, and he shuddered. Almost anything.

"You did great, kid," Logan praised Jubilee when she pulled up in front of the mansion. "Quite the natural."

Jubilee beamed.

He'd never seen anyone Jubilee's age with such a knack for taking sharp corners, parking parallel, avoiding obstacles, and changing trajectories. There was precious little for him to teach her.

They got out of the car, still talking and laughing. They were met on the front steps by Ororo's frowning face, crossed arms, and tapping foot.

Logan eyed the foot in particular. "How was that for a dry run?" He couldn't keep the tinge of pride out of his voice.

Ororo just glared at him, then looked pointedly at his student. "Wonderful, Jubilee. Now, try that again within the speed limit, please." She turned back to Logan and raised her eyebrow, as if daring him to defy her.

"Since when did we get domestic?" he muttered.

"We are not training them as combat drivers, Logan. We're trying to help them get their drivers licenses!"

Jubilee glanced back and forth between them. "I don't mind doing it again."

Logan grumbled. Ororo sighed. Jubilee trotted obediently back to the car and slid into the driver's seat.

When Ororo was safely inside the mansion once more, she leaned over and whispered to Logan, "Fifty bucks says I can switch speeds without her even knowing it."

Logan chuckled. "I like the way you think."

It only took a few passes before she could go from seventy to model driver in zero seconds flat.

She was the easy one.

Kitty, on the other hand...

"I sure hope you intend to leave the driveway in the near future."

Logan restrained a groan as Kitty nodded and continued configuring the GPS. She had spent twenty minutes already just running through her pre-driving checklist printed off from some driving school website that probably wouldn't know how to drive on a mutant-infested school ground if their life depended on it.

"Sometime today, Kitty," he prodded.

"Just a minute." She furrowed her brow and pressed enter. "Okay." She flashed him a brilliant smile. "It's got our destination. Is there autopilot on this thing?"

"Kitty," Logan answered patiently, "the car is not the Blackbird. There is no autopilot."

"Oh. Okay." She finally settled down in the seat and shifted the gear to drive.

Logan sent up a quick prayer of gratitude for small mercies. Then he waited.

"Drive forward one tenth of a mile," chimed the GPS unit. This could get annoying fast, but just now, the sound made Logan very happy that they would at least be driving.

And he waited.


"Which one's the throttle?" she asked in a small voice.

He refrained from beating his head on the dashboard. "This is not the Blackbird," he reminded her—again. "Just put your foot on the left pedal to accelerate and on the right pedal to brake. Okay?"

"Okay. Right." Kitty squared her shoulders.

The car inched forward.

Logan did not refrain from slapping his hand against his forehead. "This is going to be a long drive," he muttered.

"Kitty!" Logan shouted as the car swung over the edge of the sidewalk. "Get in your lane!"

Kitty swung the wheel hard to the right and miraculously straightened in the righthand lane. She was chewing her bottom lip into a bright red. "I'm sorry, Logan. The GPS said to turn left—"

"When you reached the signal! Not at the curb." He had already ran his hand through his hair enough that it was probably standing on end by now. His back was jarred from all the obstacles that GPS failed to note and the fact that Kitty seemed to think the road as easy to navigate as the open sky.

"Turn right on Hideaway Road," chimed the GPS unit.

Logan reached out and grabbed the wheel. "When we reach the corner. Okay, kid?"

Kitty nodded and dutifully pulled up to the curb. She put the car in park. Logan eyed her warily.

"Um. Logan?"

"Yeah, kid."

"Are you sure you don't want to drive now?"

Ororo's eyes laughed at him when he stalked into her attic.

"You planned this," he accused her, then proceeded to collapse face down across her bed.

"I planned for you to turn them into responsible drivers," she informed him graciously. "And they did ask for you. Specifically."

Logan grunted in acknowledgment but, otherwise, did not answer.

This time, Ororo laughed out loud. She sat down next to him. "So how did our girls do?"

"Speaking of which..." He sat up on one arm. "When did they become 'our' girls?"

"I'm the headmistress," she replied matter-of-factly. "They are mine."


"You're their hero and dorm dad. They have made it clear that they've claimed you, have they not?"

"Hm." Logan studied her, as if considering the thought. Which, of course, he wasn't. "An 'our' implies a 'we,' 'Ro," he prodded.

Ororo's eyes went blank. Then she stared at him, suddenly comprehending his point. "Well..."

He shook his head. Some people really did need to learn how to drive. He leaned over and kissed her.