This was imspired by Kerrie's cry of confusion. =) I myself am not a Storm fan but I can see the attraction. Her stoicism to his humor. That sort of thing. So um ... this is my try at Ororo and Bobby.
Disclaimer: The X-men aren't mine and I make no money off of this. Now leave me 'lone.
Summary: Ororo watches and debates.
Archiving: Simply ask. =)
Feedback: Oh! Yes please!
Author's notes: This has not been beta-read. (Such as I really don't have a beat reader.*shrug*) And it was written in *checks watch* less than ten minutes. So honestly I have no idea how it turned out. I hope someone will like it. And the end line was not quite what I wanted. But like I said -- it's a ten minute fic.

by Reccea

She was watching him. Watching him as he laughed with Hank. As he set up his latest prank. She watched him as he enjoyed himself. As he allowed himself to smile the way few ever did. She watched him when no one else did. When his face contorted with self-disgust. When he tried so hard to make himself into something more. She watched him and loved the way he moved. So awkward as almost to be graceful. With a lightness no one else had.

She watched as he glanced her way on occasion. So very insecure and hopeful. She watched as he smiled at her, his whole heart going into that simple smile. And she smiled back. Mostly though she simply watched him. He was a joy to watch. He was everything that she was not. And watching him warmed her heart. Even if she could never be with him.

"You're staring 'Ro." Logan's voice came from behind. She'd known he was there, of course. Logan had made no move to mask his approach. But she could not tear her eyes away from the sight of his laughing face.

"I am simply watching him, old friend." She replied, ever the stately queen. The weather goddess.

"If I didn't know better I'd say you were interested in him." Logan commented, puffing on his cigar.

With a single thought the wind bowed to her command and pushed the smoke away from her. Then she turned to look down at Wolverine. "You say that as if it were impossible."

"Not very likely's all." Logan replied glancing up at Storm.

"And why is that?" Her voice was as cold as the man she watched.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's a bad thing." Logan took another long drag of his cigar. Ororo felt her irritation mount. "You just never seemed inclined that way, I guess."

"Appearances are sometimes just that, my friend. Appearances." She turned away from Logan, lured in by the sound of his voice.

"Then stop standing on the sidelines and do something." Logan flicked the ash of the end of the cigar.

She heard the sound Logan's footsteps fading in the distance. She smiled slightly at his comment. Perhaps it was time to do more than watch. She stepped out from under the shade the trees provided, and made her way across the grass. He was coming off the basketball court, wiping sweat from his brow. He looked up, squinting, and saw her crossing the lawn. His smile faded and her determination faltered.

He jogged up to her and gave her a sheepish grin. "Was I late for another training session?"

"I ... no." Ororo replied, feeling her resolve die slowly.

He quirked his mouth a little. "Well I saw you watching me. I thought maybe I forgot or something. It's been known to happen." The quirk turned into a full-fledged smile. The smile that made her heart flutter in the most unusual ways. "So if I'm not late for a training session than why were you watching me? Jealous of my obvious athletic talents?"

The corner of her mouth inched its way up. "I think not."

His eyebrows shot up. "Oh really! That sounds like a challenge 'Ro. Care for a game of one on one?"

"I have no desire to ruin your mood." Her own sense of humor was creeping its way out.

"Now that sounded like a challenge." His eyes sparkled with mischief. The others had already left the court, bound for places unknown. Training session likely. It was only the two of them. He bounced the orange ball in front of her. A dare without words. Did she want to try and beat him? Did she want to act rather than watch?

She snatched to orange ball away and made her way down the court. He was on her in an instant. Never let it be said that he wasn't diligent when he deemed it necessary. He snaked the ball away from her and she almost willed the wind to bring it back. But no, that would be cheating. And perhaps, when the ball returned to her, she could brush her fingers up against his. Feel instead of see.

The competition between them was fierce. She'd rarely seen him like this. He so wanted to win, to triumph against her. And she gloried in the way he watched her every move, waiting for her to act. She gloried in being watched. They made it up and down the court six times before a goal was even attempted. Her shot circled the rim twice before falling outside of it. But she was not angry. She did not want the game to be over.

He darted in and snagged the ball before it bounced a second time. She was surprised by his speed. She ran after him, her bare feet pounding on the pavement, the sun pounding on her back. She grabbed the ball away from him and raced back down to her end of the court. His squeaking sneakers told her that he was right behind her. And she couldn't resist a look. He was grinning broadly, his eyes alight. He was enjoying this, enjoying playing this game with her. Perhaps enjoying being with her? She paused for a fraction of a second, to take in the joy in his eyes, the beauty of his face.

The ball was gone before she was even aware of his movement. She watched his race to the end of the court, too moved by the song in his laugh to stop him. He leapt up, one hand on the ball, the other reaching for the rim. The orange orb slammed through the net and onto the ground. He'd won.

His cry of triumph echoed across the grounds as he jumped down and did his silly version of a victory dance. She could not stop herself from watching. The way his body moved under his white tee shirt. The way the corners of his eyes squinted with his smile. She could not turn her eyes away, or erase the desire she knew showed in them.

He noticed, his cry dying in his throat. He let the ball bounce away, unheeded as he approached her. He stepped in front of her and her eyes drank in his face. A stray lock of hair blew in her eyes. She reached her hand up to move it, to keep it from obstructing her view. But his hand beat hers. He reached up and brushed the lock away, his finger trailing across her cheek and up her ear. A shiver went through her. "Ro?" His voice was husky, his eyes staring straight into hers.

"Yes Robert?" Her own voice was not as strong as it should've been. It was weak with anticipation.

"I ... my name's Bobby." He leaned his head up to hers, as his voice became breathless. "Call me Bobby."

"Bobby." It was a whisper as she bent her head down, pressing her lips lightly against his. The inches she had over him were obvious, but not in an unpleasant way. Not that anything was ever unpleasant about him.

The kiss deepened and his hand slid across her waist. His palm was surprisingly warm against her skin. This was so much better than watching, than imagining. His lips tasted so much sweeter, his interest in her seemed so much stronger, his scent so much more intoxicating. Living was so much better than watching.

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