Love, Lust 'n Geology (2ND DRAFT)

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Samina grew up in love with everything Marvel: Marvel comics, Marvel cartoons, Marvel movies. Oh, the thrill of sitting down in front of the TV, waiting for an episode of Spider-Man to begin. Or the lights dimming in a theatre and an X-Men movie starting up. Or brushing her fingers over the glossy cover of a new Wolverine comic -- and over Wolverine -- before carefully peeling it open.

For years Spider-Man was her number one. She could relate to Peter Parker, a nerd like her. Not that she'd ever been angst-ridden or a social outcast like Peter, but as she got older, her Western upbringing and her Eastern background were often in a tug-of-war -- she was the strained rope.

When she hit puberty, she found herself drifting away from Spidey towards Wolverine. Spidey was still "amazing" -- he always would be -- but she couldn't get over her disappointment that he had no hair on his chest. Wolverine had plenty.

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Samina zooms in on Redshirt's collar. Her brow creases. He's only left the top button undone. Like every Marvelite, she's always dissed DC Comics, but she has to give DC credit for giving Superman X-ray vision. Not that she wants to see Redshirt's chest, per se. Nothing so ... inappropriate. She's just curious how far his resemblance to Wolverine goes, 'cause the rest of him ...

Young Wolverine might as well be sitting across the room from her. She can't believe she missed it earlier. He's way more beautiful than his older, Marvel self. His eyes are more striking, his lips (and cheeks) redder. But isn't everyone prettier when they're younger? Even his height and build are similar, though he's leaner, not as bulky and muscle-bound as his older counterpart.

Samina didn't know what to expect during her first field season. Certainly not running into young Wolverine in northern Ontario. It's kind of exciting. The excitement's going to be limited to her imagination, unfortunately. She's too chicken to try to speak to him. But she can easily envision conjuring him up when she's lying in bed at night. Currently, that time is reserved for cataloguing grievances she's accumulated against Grant over the course of the day.

Wolverine's finished his surveillance of the room. He's looking to his right. Seated at the table next to his is a young woman with a mass of shiny, red ringlets bobbing on her shoulders. She's been keeping one pretty eye on the door, the other on him.

She and Wolverine exchange looks. A coy smile overspreads her face. She nods. Wolverine returns the greeting. So that's how it's done. Nice to have a demo, but Samina could never put it into practice herself.

Several pitchers of beer arrive at Wolverine's table. Samina notes the easy familiarity with which members of the group interact with the waitress. Unlike her, they're definitely locals.

Wolverine is soon chatting with Red, who can't seem to help smiling and laughing frequently.

Samina watches them and grows uneasy over Red's table manners. She finds it kind of gross that every time Red take a sip -- she's drinking some creamy, pink concoction -- she runs her tongue the full round of her parted lips. Why doesn't Wolverine pull a napkin from the holder and offer it to her instead of just sitting there looking, what ... entertained?

Red finally empties her glass, tipping it bottoms-up. Samina's relieved for her, only Wolverine flags the waitress for another. It arrives, the same pale pink stuff, but with a cherry on top. This time, Red licks and sucks the cherry for ages, her eyes locked on Wolverine's. He watches her with a fixed smile on his face. (Samina usually chews her maraschino cherries, not lick or suck them.) Red finally bites off the cherry, and wags the stem at Wolverine, giggling. He lifts his beer glass in a cheers gesture and takes a sip. He didn't do nearly as much with his tongue while drinking as Red did, just lick his lips from time to time. Nice lips. Full. After he drains his glass, his Adam's apple bobbing in the process, he stands and holds out his hand. Red takes it and rises, smoothing her dress which is a fiery red colour, not unlike her hair. By Samina's tastes, the dress is way too tight. Honestly, it defies physics that she can sit down in it.

At the back of the bar is a makeshift dance floor, an open space that's currently deserted. Wolverine and Red walk towards it holding hands. Red is looking up at him, giggling. As they approach Samina's table, Wolverine's eyes suddenly flit from Red to her, and the corners of his lips curve up into a faint smile. Samina immediately lowers her gaze, and swallows, afraid that in that fraction of a second, her eyes may have said far more than she likes.

She sits, staring at her beer, willing herself not to look at him but finds her eyes continually wandering. She watches him surreptitiously, allowing herself brief glances in his direction. His athletic body has some great topography. And true to his name, he's well-coordinated, a slick (and sexy) dancer.

An eclectic mix of songs play -- pop, rock, and plenty of twangy country. They're all up-tempo, but then a slow song starts up. Red wraps her arms around Wolverine's neck, he around her waist. He draws her in against him, and they sway rhythmically to the music, his hands sending ripples through her silky dress as he strokes her back.

By the time they return to their seats, Wolverine's table has gotten pretty loud. Hockey talk -- something to do with the Jets. Red tries to keep Wolverine engaged -- she even touches his forearm -- but to no avail.

Wolverine looks so much freer, so much more animated when he's talking to his buddies. There's one more thing Samina likes about him, and that's the almost constant expression of good humour on his face. There's also the quick grin, the flash of white teeth, the sparkling light eyes. His older, brooding self wouldn't know what to do with him. Grunt at him? Chuck him out a window?

He seems absorbed in what a buddy across the table is saying when his eyes slide sideways, and he catches Samina looking again. She's never found her beer as fascinating as she does at this moment.

Feeling deeply embarrassed, she curses herself for not learning her lesson the first time. Alright, now she really has to go. And if the light happens to be on in Grant's room when she gets back to the cabin, she'll just wait in the truck till it goes out. She gulps her beer, intent on finishing it before she takes off. From her peripheral vision, and that's the only part which still has her permission to peek at him, she sees Wolverine get up from his table, and amble towards the dance floor. She wonders why he hasn't bothered to bring his partner along.

The closer he gets, the lower goes her head, until finally, she's reduced to following the progress of the bottom of his shirt, his belt, and his jeans. When they all three reach a point opposite her, they halt and rotate in her direction. She looks up, overcome by a terrible case of nerves, her heart pounding.

Wolverine grips the back of the chair that's across the table from her and leans forward. A close look at him does nothing to change her opinion about his looks. In fact, it confirms it. She sees that his eyes are very light, hazel, and fringed by dark lashes. Wow. And the same smile she saw earlier is playing across his lips.