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SATURDAY
Jubilee walked into the dim kitchen, barefoot, in her pajamas. Her hair was a tangled mess from tossing in bed, and her eyes were still puffy from sleep, or maybe from whatever nightmare had dragged her out of it.
She stopped dead in the doorway.
“Whoa. Triple threat tonight?”
Logan didn’t look up from his seat at the island. He had a slice of pie, a cup of black coffee, and a bottle of whiskey almost drained.
“Couldn’t decide,” he muttered.
Jubilee made a face as she crossed to the freezer. “Gotta say, whiskey and pie isn’t a combo I see often.”
“For a reason.”
She dug out a pint of rocky road and hopped up on the island across from him. “You always sit around like a sad cowboy at one in the morning, or is this a special occasion?”
Logan didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to the dark window. The silence stretched long enough that Jubilee’s smirk faded.
“Are you waiting on someone?”
“…Morph,” he said finally.
“Oh.”
Another beat.
“They’ve been goin’ out to that club downtown,” Logan added, voice rougher now. “Dancin’. Blowin’ off steam. Says they’re fine, but…”
“They’re allowed to have a life, y’know,” Jubilee said, spoon halfway to her mouth. “They aren’t a child.”
Logan didn’t look at her. “They’re still healin’.”
She nodded, softer now. “Yeah.”
Logan let out a sigh that was more gravel than breath. “I trust them. I just… hate not knowin’ if they’re alright. If they’re drinkin’ too much. If someone’s takin’ advantage of how… open they get.”
“You mean flirty?” Jubilee teased, smiling again. “They’re always flirty.”
Logan made a low noise. “That ain’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He looked down at the whiskey like it might answer for him. Then, softly, almost like he hated himself for it: “I’m in love with them.”
The spoon clattered in Jubilee’s bowl.
“…Wait. Like in love in love?”
“Don’t make me say it twice, kid.”
Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “I—holy crap. Holy crap.”
Logan winced.
Jubilee launched forward on the counter, face lit up like a sunrise. “You have to tell them!”
“No,” Logan said, sharp and final. “I don’t.”
“But—”
“I’d ruin it.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “They’re just startin’ to come back to life. Laughin’ again. Doin’ their dumb impressions. I tell them, they’ll feel like they owe me somethin’. Or worse, they’ll pull away.”
Jubilee sat back, expression folding into something quiet. “That’s not how love works, y’know.”
“Yeah?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “You ever been in love?”
“…No,” she muttered. “But I’ve read about it.”
He gave a tired chuckle. “Kid…”
The front door creaked.
Logan sniffed the air and then gave Jubilee a look that said Keep your mouth shut .
They both heard Morph’s laugh, making its way to the kitchen.
They stumbled a little as they entered the kitchen, jacket half off, eyes glassy but bright.
“Heyyyyy, I’m home! Don’t lock the door next time, I almost turned into a worm just to get in.” They blinked down at the figure now at their side. “Oh. Hi, Logan.”
Logan caught them by the elbow, steadying them, and gently guided them to a stool at the island. “You alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just tipsy. Maybe slightly drunk. Definitely danced too much.” Morph blinked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. “But I’m good. Swear.”
Logan looked them over like he didn’t quite believe it. Then nodded once. “Alright. G’night.”
Morph blinked as Logan turned and walked out.
“…Night,” they echoed, a little more quietly.
Jubilee raised her spoon again. “So. You get drugged or just overserved?”
Morph flopped dramatically onto the counter. “Just regular ol’ stupid decisions.”
“Anyone cute?”
“Hmm?”
“At the club. You meet anybody?”
Morph stretched out like a boneless cat. “Plenty of cute people. None I wanted.”
“Why not?”
Morph sighed, eyes drifting toward the door Logan had disappeared through.
“…Because I’m already in love with someone I shouldn’t be.”
Jubilee paused. “…Do you mean Logan?”
Morph stared at her, “…You know?”
“I do now! Oh my god!”
They groaned, dropping their head onto the counter. “Jubileeee, I was trying to be subtle.”
“You came home drunk and announced your tragic forbidden love like you’re the lead in a soap opera!”
Morph made a helpless sound into the counter. “Kill me.”
She giggled into her ice cream.
SUNDAY
The next morning, Logan was making breakfast a little later than usual.
The kitchen was quiet. The scent of bacon hung heavy in the air.
Jubilee sat at the table, idly flipping through a magazine with one hand and picking at a plate of toast with the other.
Logan was at the stove, quiet. Two plates were sitting beside him.
A few minutes later, Morph wandered in, still in their pajamas, eyes puffy with sleep.
“Mornin’,” they mumbled, rubbing at one eye.
Logan didn’t say anything. He just picked up the extra plate, stacked high with bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast, and handed it over without a word.
Morph blinked down at it. “This for me?”
Logan grunted. “Extra bacon.”
Morph beamed .
Jubilee, halfway through a bite of her dry toast, froze.
Her eyes went wide.
She watched Morph smile at Logan like he’d just handed them a bouquet of roses instead of greasy breakfast food. She watched Logan pretend like it meant nothing.
She looked back and forth between them, mouth full of toast, and nearly choked.
How do they not see it?
MONDAY
The Danger Room was a war zone.
Lasers flashed overhead, platforms shifted underfoot, and Logan’s voice echoed across the comms with his usual brand of barked encouragement.
“Focus! Eyes up, Cajun! Move left, not like a jackass!”
Jubilee ducked behind cover, rolled out, and blasted a dummy drone just in time to see Morph vault off a wall and completely mistime the landing.
They hit the ground hard and skidded, nothing dangerous, but enough to startle her.
Apparently, it startled Logan too.
He was across the room in seconds.
“You good?” Logan asked, crouching beside Morph. His hands hovered like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.
Morph laughed, lying dramatically on the mat like they’d planned the fall. “You worried about me, tough guy?”
Logan grunted. “Just don’t wanna scrape your goo off the walls again.”
Morph grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
Jubilee, mid-run to a new cover point, slowed long enough to make eye contact with Rogue across the field. Her mouth formed the words in exaggerated silence: “THEY. ARE. IN. LOVE.”
Rogue raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and flew through a laser grid like it was nothing.
Jubilee threw her hands in the air.
TUESDAY
Morph had shapeshifted into Logan.
They were following him down the hallway, copying his walk, posture, and voice.
“I’m the best there is at what I do,” Morph grunted, mimicking Logan’s gravelly tone with eerie accuracy. “But what I do is brood in corners and yell at coffee machines.”
The team trailing behind them burst into laughter.
Logan didn’t stop walking.
Morph caught up beside him, still in full Logan-form, now with a comically deep scowl. “Hey, bub,” they growled. “Let’s go do something reckless and emotionally repressed.”
Logan slowed. “You done makin’ fun of me?”
Morph’s grin widened, teeth flashing. “Not a chance, handsome.”
Handsome.
Jubilee nearly fell over.
Nobody else reacted.
Not Logan.
Not Morph.
Not anyone.
“YOU GUYS,” she wheezed. “THEY CALLED HIM HANDSOME . YOU’RE JUST OKAY WITH THAT?!”
Storm walked past her, perfectly calm, and gave her a soothing pat on the head. “They’ve always been like this.”
Jubilee stared after her, mouth open.
In front of her, Morph, still wearing Logan’s face, was now miming lighting a cigar while Logan muttered something under his breath and tried very hard not to smile.
WEDNESDAY
Jubilee wasn’t spying.
Okay, maybe she was a little.
But only because she’d heard Morph in their room muttering something about “needlework being an act of war,” followed by a string of curses, and her curiosity got the better of her.
She crept down the hallway and peeked through the open door.
What she saw made her freeze in the doorway, heart flipping over like a pancake.
Morph was sitting cross-legged on their bed, completely tangled in a mess of red flannel and thread. They were sewing what looked like a patch job.
Jubilee squinted at the fabric.
It was Logan’s shirt. The dark red flannel he always wore. The one he’d casually tossed aside last week, grumbling something about trashing it because of the giant rip in the sleeve.
She watched as Morph smoothed the torn fabric out and tied off the last stitch with slow, careful fingers. They looked down at the shirt with something like pride. Then folded it gently and stuck a sticky note to the top before setting it aside.
Jubilee backed away slowly, eyes wide, mouth already forming a scream she was saving for later.
THURSDAY
Movie night. The rec room was packed, blankets draped across couches, snacks piled on the table, and a rom-com playing at low volume while everyone settled in.
Morph showed up late.
They were wrapped in a hoodie that was clearly several sizes too big.
Clearly not theirs.
Clearly Logan’s.
They didn’t say a word about it.
Logan, already seated with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, barely blinked when he saw them. Just gave a quiet nod as Morph slid onto the couch beside him.
Their knees touched.
Logan didn’t move his.
Neither did Morph.
Jubilee stared at the spot where their legs met like she was watching a nature documentary and waiting for the rare mating ritual of the Canadian Wolverine.
Half an hour in, Logan reached for popcorn.
Morph did too.
Their hands brushed.
They both froze, like someone had pulled a gun.
Then, at the exact same time, they pulled their hands back and pretended it didn’t happen.
Jubilee made a noise somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. She slapped Jean’s arm and leaned in, whispering like she was delivering state secrets: “I can’t take this anymore.”
Jean didn’t even look away from the movie. “Then don’t look.”
“I have to look,” Jubilee hissed. “They’re in love and too emotionally constipated to admit it.”
Jean sipped her wine and said nothing.
On the couch, Logan shifted slightly, just enough to let Morph lean in, just a little.
They didn’t say a word.
Jubilee buried her face in a pillow and let out a long, muffled scream.
FRIDAY
Jubilee was curled up on the rec room couch, hoodie pulled over her head like she was in mourning.
Morph flopped down beside her and immediately stole the remote.
“What’s up with you?” they asked, voice light.
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Jubilee muttered, not moving.
Morph cackled. “Mood.”
Jubilee peeked out from under the hood and froze.
Logan was standing in the hallway, half in shadow, watching the two of them. He had the posture of someone who’d walked in halfway through a confession and didn’t know where to stand.
And that was it.
That was enough .
Jubilee sat up straight and flung her arms out like she was conducting a symphony of exasperation.
“YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HIM AND HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU AND I SWEAR TO GOD , IF YOU TWO DON’T KISS SOON I’M GOING TO GLUE YOUR FACES TOGETHER.”
Morph froze mid-click on the remote.
“…Wait. He loves me ?”
From the hallway, a low voice answered: “You do?”
Silence.
Morph turned red. Logan looked like he might pass out.
And Jubilee threw her arms into the air like she’d just scored the game-winning goal.
“FINALLY! ”