Hank signed off from his computer glancing at the clock in disbelief. "How could it be two 'o clock, I could swear I only just got up from dinner..." Hank's stomach rumbled. "Or maybe not, of course it was Jean's night to cook."

Hank wandered toward the kitchen. "I hope they didn't finish off the midnight emergency pizza."

The last thing Hank was expecting was to have a hand clapped over his mouth and to be dragged into the den, but the pervious year's events made such incidents less than shocking.

Before his surprise even registered he'd dropped to one knee, attempting to toss his assailant over his head.

His attacker foiled the move, keeping his hold on Hank. "Pretty good," Logan's smoke roughened voice whispered in his ear. "Now quiet down."

Hank rolled his eyes questioningly toward Logan, but received no acknowledgment. He wasn't even sure Logan could see his expression and the hand over his mouth prevented verbal communication so he forced his muscles to relax, his body language surrendering and Logan responded by releasing him.

"What's going on?" Hank whispered.

Logan grinned. "Remind me to compliment Jeannie on her cooking tomorrow," he said in a low voice.

Hank frowned in confusion. "It was abysmal, as always."

"Yep, bad enough to get Remy out of his room," Logan replied. "Didn't think now was a good time to surprise him."

"Maybe we should have Jean cook more often," Hank commented.

"Ain't it your turn to cook tomorrow night?" Logan asked.

Peter carefully placed his fork back on his plate after his first bite and pushed back his chair. "Please Hank, whatever this is supposed to be, don't try to make it again, my stomach begs you."

"Whose turn is it to get take out?" Ororo asked.

"I got it," Logan volunteered.

After a few minutes Scott asked. "Well, when are you going?"

"I believe it is traditional to wait until midnight, so that the cook is either sleeping or convinced that everyone just needs a snack, to spare their feelings," Hank pointed out.

"Hank, even factoring in pride, I'm willing to bet you won't be able to stomach enough of this… stuff to consider it a meal," Peter pointed out.

"Actually that's a good idea," Jean announced. "Only Logan, the movie you're thinking about… Don't. I'm sure Hank and I would appreciate another selection as an excuse to keep all of us up and in a known location for the whole night."

Ororo's expression took on a determined cast. "Oh this is an important part!" she exclaimed loudly. "Everybody pay attention!"

"Beautiful darling," Logan said several minutes later. "Worked like a charm."

"So should I screw-up tomorrow's dinner?" Scott asked.

"I think he'd get suspicious if we all suddenly couldn't cook," Peter said.

"And if he thought we were deliberately trying to entice him out of his room he'd get stubborn," Scott sighed. "I guess that means the plan has to go on hold for another three nights."

"Why Scott, are you saying I can't cook?" Jean asked.

"Well, um, no, um, of course not," Scott stammered and Jean started giggling.

"If you must know, I hate cooking and I've been trying to persuade someone to trade me chores since forever," Jean sighed. "But I guess that's on hold indefinitely."

Peter fidgeted; out of the corner of his eye he noticed several of the others doing the same.

For the last three rotten-dinner-and-a-movie nights Remy had stopped in the doorway for a few minutes before retreating back to his room. This time he'd been there for fifteen minutes and the urge to turn around and notice him was becoming a driving force.

"When'd de lot of yo' become night owls?" Remy asked.

With a sigh of relief Peter decided they'd been given notice that Remy was ready to stop playing the ghost. He turned to see the younger boy leaning against the door jam. His pose was designed to radiate relaxation, but the wariness in his eyes and the tension throughout his frame made the purposeful casualness a lie.

"About three weeks ago," Scott replied. "Wanna stick around for the next show? This one's pretty lame, we've all been thinking about skipping on to the next for awhile now."

"Could see dat," Remy said a hint of a smile hovering around his mouth as he slipped into the room and took a seat near the door.

The movie wasn't good, but Peter and Scott watched it with an intensity that suggested they would be tested over the material later. Logan slumped down in his chair and quickly fell asleep. Jean and Ororo fell into a mostly telepathic conversation about something neither would remember but that gave them the excuses to face each other and the ability to steal glances at the back of the room out of the corners of their eyes. Hank had apparently selected the most uncomfortable chair in the house because he resettled himself every few minutes.

While Remy, who they were all covertly watching or single-mindedly ignoring occupied his hands with a variation of solitaire that kept him holding a large part of the deck for the entire movie.

"Hi Rem," Scott greeted him quietly. "You decided to get lunch today?"

"Gettin' tired of de four walls of m' room," Remy admitted.

"Glad to hear it," Scott said. "So the ankle's all healed up?"

"Good as new," Remy replied.

"So you're planning on staying for awhile?" Scott asked.

"Guess so," Remy replied. "Dis ain't de worst place I could be."

When the door opened a fan of cards appeared in Remy's hands, only to disappear once he recognized Logan.

" 'Bout time you started living again, kid," Logan commented.

Remy glanced away, then his expression hardened with determination. "Could yo' teach me to fight wid'out m' powers?"

"Sure kid."