“Logan!” Darcy grinned widely when she saw him. She had a helluva smile on her. It might be just him, but Logan thought she maybe had a special one for him. It was probably just wishful thinking.
Because he saw a lot more of those dimples than anyone else did.
“Listen, babe. You gotta help me out, I don’t know any of these n00bs…” she gestured down to the garment bags she had slung over her arm.
“You think I know their names?” he asked with a dry chuckle. But he pulled himself up outta the chair. Because she’d asked for his help. Darcy had asked for his help.
“Maybe…” she answered coyly. “Or maybe I’m just thinking of ways to spend more time with ya…” She winked and held out her arms and their contents. “You take these…I’ll get the rest of them.”
Somehow, they got each of the altered uniforms matched up with their owners. Logan was even impressed with what Tony Stark had been able to do in such a short timeframe. Not that he’d ever tell him that, of course.
He told Darcy. Because he had to find something to say to her. Some way to keep her engaged so she wouldn’t leave just yet. So he’d have a few more minutes with her.
Yer just a dirty old man…he thought to himself. She wasn’t in any way interested in him. He didn’t have Bobby’s chance in hell.
“Ha, it’s funny you should say that…you should have SEEN Tony with a needle and thread sewing stuff onto these uniforms for y’all. Top fourteen favorite things I’ve seen in that lab, not gonna lie.”
Logan knew what his favorite thing in that lab was. And Tony Stark on his knees sewing breathable material into the crotches of leather X-Suits wasn’t it.
“Ask her for coffee, you idiot,” Jean’s voice chided inside his head. He frowned, searching the room for her telltale red hair.
Once he found it, he shot her a look. One that hopefully said, “Get outta my head, Jean.”
“I’m serious. Ask her.”
“Coffee?” he blurted, breaking the silence between them.
Darcy looked up at him, her blue eyes narrowing. “Are you telling me or asking me?”
“Asking…do you wanna…” he gestured vaguely. “Go get coffee with me?”
“It’s about time…” She hip checked him on her way out, twirling her keys around her finger. “You want shotgun?”
“Nah,” he answered. Emboldened by the positive reaction to his terrible method of asking, he slipped his arm around her waist and steered her towards the garage. “We’ll borrow Scott’s motorcycle.”