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Hauling himself out of the New York sewers - after a protracted fight defending the Morlocks from Sinister’s Marauders - Logan finds himself and Morph on the edge of crowded, colorful streets.
“Alright, everyone.” Cyclops’ voice comes in over comms; even though Logan can see him not too far away. “Follow the parade and blend in. We don’t draw attention to ourselves.”
Logan snorts. “Don’t want anyone thinking the X-Men are friendly with the gays, do you Cyke?”
“This is about them, not us. Thank god we avoided the Marauders breaking in to the parade, we don’t need to make this a story about mutants now because we couldn’t behave.”
Summers doesn’t say outright that he’s less worried about how it looks for the X-Men to be standing in New York’s pride parade than about how it looks for the pride parade to have a bunch of well known and rarely well-liked mutants with them, but that doesn’t mean Logan doesn’t get the gist.
“I’ve been around longer than you, Summers, nothing here I haven’t seen before.”
“We will be polite and respectful to everyone,” Summers continues, after a pause.
“Even those jerks?” Even over comms, he doesn’t need to clarify that he’s referring to the homophobes with the shitty signs.
Summers sighs. “Follow the organizers’ lead. If they’re ignoring them, we’re ignoring them. Unless they’re putting someone in danger -”
“Yeah yeah,” Logan says, and takes his comms out.
Morph snorts from next to him. “Well,” he starts, after a moment of hesitation and looking around, “if we’re blending in,” and shifts easily out of the X-Men uniform into jeans and a rainbow feather boa draped over his open leather jacket before joining the crowd.
Logan looks down, then up and around, then back down - eh, doesn’t stand out too much - then follows.
Morph is cheerfully taking ‘blend in’ to heart, starting conversation and offering compliments on everything from hairstyles and earrings to boots. Logan is more than happy to let him do the talking as they make their way through the crowd, and no one seems to bat an eye at him following along in Morph’s wake.
Even as he keeps an eye out for anyone who might be looking to start trouble with the marchers, it’s easier than anything to be carried along by the energy of the parade. There’s even some folks costumed in their own versions of the X-Men’s outfits - which he can’t wait for Morph to tell Summers about. They can definitely blend in.
Morph shapeshifting to match one of the drag queens he’s chatting with definitely doesn’t match Summers’ definition of blending in, but the imitation is greeted by delighted laughter, and it’s not like Logan’s going to snitch.
Morph is laughing as he shifts back, and it strikes Logan, watching Morph continue the conversation, that Morph looks different. Happier, yes - the smile and laughter genuine and easier as Morph is carried further into the conversation. Morph had always been good at covering things with a laugh, and had certainly had more to cover since he’d been back, but Logan’s gotten pretty good at telling the difference, and this is genuine. And - something about his friend’s face looks less careworn, less tired - the shadows under the eyes less like bruises, the hollows under the cheekbones less gaunt. Like some of the grip of what Sinister had done to him - even the pressure of just being a mutant in the world - had slipped away, at least for a time.
In the months Morph has been back at the X-Mansion, it’s seemed like some of that pressure has loosened its grip, that he’s been growing less haggard now that he’s back around his family and getting decent meals into him. Logan’s hoped that look of exhaustion would leave entirely, given time. He wonders if the buoyant energy of this moment can last.
It’s easy to linger as Morph cheerfully makes his way through a string of impressions - including an unflattering turn as the Mayor, to laughter and jeering - but Morph does manage to extract himself before he can be brought along to the afterparty.
---
Once the team returns to the X-Mansion and finishes one of Cyke’s mandatory debriefs, they all disperse, getting out of uniform and scrubbing off the last of the detritus of the fight.
Back out of the training hall, Logan makes his way towards the kitchen, in search of a decent beer and something to throw on the grill.
Of course, Summers is already there, presumably having cleared the training hall 1.3 times more efficiently than the rest of them.
“Logan,”
Summers actually looks nervous - and awkward, but that’s nothing new.
“What. Miss something in the debriefing? Got complaints about our parade conduct?”
“Uh - no. What I said - I really didn’t mean anything by it other than wanting the parade to go smoothly.”
He almost makes another jibe, but just sighs instead. “I know, Slim. Just don’t be too much of a stick in the mud for the kids, yeah?”
Summers looks like he almost has something else to add, but after a moment just nods stiffly and makes his exit.
Logan shrugs and heads for the kitchen - he needs a meal after that fight, preferably something on the grill - where he finds Morph, already with the same thing in mind.
Logan grabs a cooler and starts to help load up some beers and a few sodas, when Jubilee follows into the kitchen.
“Hey, Jubes.”
Jubilee flops onto the kitchen table with the natural drama of a mildly annoyed teenager. “Why’s Cyclops gotta be such a killjoy?”
“Oh, it’s part of his powers,” Morph riffs immediately, before shifting to look like Cyclops. “Along with my concussive beams, I am able to locate any source of joy in under five seconds and eliminate it.”
This bit of mockery does not appear to cheer Jubilee up. “I mean, like, why shouldn’t we get to go to the Pride parade if we want? We’re not just mutants. I go to the Lunar New Year celebrations in Chinatown every year, and no one has a problem with that. And if there was a - a Civil Rights march, it’s not like Cyclops would stop Storm going.”
Logan snorts. “Cyke’s not that stupid. He’s just a worrywart.”
“But I mean, there’s gotta be mutants who are gay. Or, like, the other things.”
She’s looking sidelong at Morph, who’s gotten back to pulling hotdogs out of the fridge. She doesn’t say anything, and Logan doesn’t say anything, and Morph doesn’t say anything, so nothing is said.
“Been around plenty more decades than you. Nothin’ there, gay or other things, that’s new, to mutants or anyone.”
“So like, it’s not all just one or the other.”
She could mean ‘it’s not just mutant or anything else’ or ‘it’s not just gay or straight’ - she’s right either way, so he just nods.
“Summers knows that. He just gets worried about every little thing. ‘Specially if he thinks there’s a chance of me breaking out the claws on some small minded bigots.”
“ I’d be fine with you turning them into shishkebab.” Jubilee grumbles
“Ah my young X-Man, hatred and bigotry cannot be solved by turning people into shishkebab,” Morph-as-the-Professor teases. “Besides,” he adds, slipping back to look like himself, with an easy smirk, “If it could, Wolverine would have solved it long ago.”
Jubilee gives a little smile at that, and then flops back across the table. “Ugh. it’s such a bummer that you got to go and I didn’t. I bet it was fun.”
“Oh, darling,” Morph says, impersonating one of the drag queens, “it was the best.” Turning back to himself, he adds, “we’ll have to take you next year. Or I will, if Logan can’t stand not turning people into shishkebab.”
“I’ll go,” Logan says. “I had … fun.”
“As we know, any time Logan doesn’t have to say more than two words at a time, it’s his idea of fun,” Morph says, and Jubilee giggles. “See? Cyclops can make rainbow color-coded binders about gay-mutant relations.”
“He would, though,” Jubilee says. “Though I mean, can he even tell all those colors apart?”
Morph laughs. “C’mon, let’s get out to the grill.”
---
When they’re sitting out on the lawn in the dark, grill long since cold and Jubilee having returned to her room for videogames, just empty plates and empty beers between them, Morph elbows Logan. “So, nothing you haven’t seen in all your decades, huh? Nothing new, gay … or otherwise?”
“What’d you expect?” He takes a drink. “It hasn’t been a boring few decades. Least the ones I can remember.”
Morph briefly puts on Logan’s face. “I’m Wolverine, and I remember the invention of hockey and the birth of the very first moose.”
Logan snorts and elbows Morph back.
“And what, this decade you just decided to moon over Jean for this decade? Ooh,” Morph shifts into Jean, “‘Logan, I’ll always care about you, but I’d never leave Scott for you, no matter how sad and handsome you are.’” Morph leans around a tree, switching into Logan himself, in growly-voiced parody, “‘Jean, I’ve loved only you from the moment I got here and you were the only woman in the X-Mansion who wasn’t single, and I’m never going to get over you.’ Like,” Morph switches back to himself, “I never got that.”
“Got what? ”
“Oh, c’mon, you know. Deciding to moon over Jean when she’s -”
He huffs. “I don’t choose who I love, Morph.”
“Yeah, but in your many centuries of seeing everything under the sun, you’ve loved more than one person. You could love someone else this decade. I mean, Storm even seems to enjoy your company,” Morph says, shifting in to her, “despite the fact that she’s way out of your league,” he says, stretching out a piece of her cape, before shifting again, “Rogue was single when she joined the team,” Logan makes a face, “yeah, yeah, she’s got that not-a-thing thing with the Cajun now. Any number of people were making eyes at you at the parade, if you’d looked away from watching for people to shishkebab. And in anything under the sun, there’s that Nightcrawler guy you always talk about. And you and the Professor -”
“What about me and the Professor?”
“ Ouch , sore subject, okay.” Morph holds up his hands, back as himself.
“You trying to say I don’t really have feelings for Jean? ‘Cause that’d be about the stupidest thing -”
“Oh, I’m sure you do, to everyone’s misfortune,” Morph says, and Logan grumbles. “But I’m also sure that if Jean floated on out here -” Morph shifts into Jean, “‘Logan! I want to leave my stick in the mud husband for you! Please, take me in your strong, hairy arms!’”
“She - her voice does not sound like that.”
“ - you’d immediately panic and tell her to head straight back to Slim and work things out.” Morph says, shifting back into himself. “What? Am I wrong?”
He’s … probably not, not that Logan’s going to admit that. He grunts instead. “You got a point you’re driving at?”
“Here I thought I was just poking fun at you.” Morph laughs, and leans back in the grass. After a few moments, he says, “You’re the one who’s been around for decades. You’ve been in enough relationships that have gone bloody and sour that maybe it’s just easier to moon after someone who is, for reasons entirely unknown to science, thoroughly in love with a stick in the mud who wished to be a real boy, because that means you’re never going to be in that kind of a relationship with her.”
Logan… takes another drink.
“Especially if you’re the kind of person who’s going to be all -” Morph adds, and shifts into Logan, “Everything bad that happens to anyone around me is my fault, especially if it happens to my girlfriends. Grump grump grump, angst angst angst. I’m gonna go shishkebab someone about it.”
“You going to talk shit about me all night, or are we going to drink?”
Morph shifts back into himself. “Oh, I can do both.”
“What about you? Anyone had people at the parade makin’ eyes at him, it was you.”
“Hard for them not to,” Morph says, shifting back into a drag queen, “when I looked this fabulous.”
Logan can’t help but smile and chuckle at the beaming, self-satisfied smile on his friend’s face, regardless of guise.
Morph shifts back to his usual look, but at the same time, Logan notices again it looks less worn, less tired, and there’s something else different - hard to place.
“You had a good time,” he says.
“Well, one of us had to carry the conversation,” Morph teases. After a long moment, and a swig of his beer, Morph adds. “It was fun, talking to people who get -” he shifts a bit of his jacket into the feather boa - “ performance.” He grins, “Not that any of them -” he shifts through several of the faces they saw at the parade, so quickly they almost blur together, “- can make it look as easy as me.”
“They sure can’t,” Logan agrees.
“It was nice,” Morph says, after another long moment, “talking to people - you know, a bunch of them picked their own names - for performance, or for, I don’t know, all the time. Sorta like us. I mean, everyone calls Rogue, well, Rogue . And I don’t know when the last time was someone called me anything other than Morph.”
Logan frowns slightly. “Kevin,” he tries saying, though it sounds odd.
“Eugh. See? It just sounds weird now.” He says. “I’m Morph.”
Logan just nods.
Morph lets out a low laugh.
Logan makes an inquisitive grunt.
“You ever wonder if - no, you wouldn’t.”
“What?”
“You ever wonder if our powers are - what they are - because of who we are, or if - we end up who we are because of our powers?”
He thinks about that. He takes a drink. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think it can be just one or the other. Our powers - I don’t know what makes those what they are. Maybe it’s something about us, I don’t know. But - I know for sure I wouldn’t have had the same life if I had different powers.”
“Wouldn’t have been as long,” Morph says, elbowing him,
He nods, half shrugs. “Means I probably wouldn’t be here.”
Morph frowns. “You never know.”
“Can’t be everything, though,” Logan continues. “Mystique can shapeshift into other people, just like you, don’t see you running around with a belt of skulls.”
“Hadn’t thought about that.” Morph makes a mock-considering face. “I bet I could pull it off, though.”
Logan snorts.
“And Sabretooth has tough, hairy, and pointy also checked off,” Morph says, taking on Sabretooth’s toothy grin, “but you manage to make for,” Morph gestures, wiggling his hand back and forth, “ somewhat better company.”
Logan elbows him for that.
“I think I would like to go again, next year.” Morph says, after a long moment, and then adds quickly, “You know, if Jubilee still wants to go out - to support, or whatever the kid’s figuring out. Already showed Cyke we could be there without causing an incident, and you know he hates saying no to Jubes, so - could take her.”
“Well, I’ll go with you, if,” he adds, teasing, “ I’m good enough company.”
Morph smiles, brief and genuine, before teasing back, “Oh, I’m sure Jubilee and I will manage,” he waves a hand with a dramatic sigh. Then he looks back at Logan. “Nothing new under the sun for you, huh?”
Logan shrugs and shakes his head.
Morph watches him for a moment, then looks up. It’s gotten dark enough that all the stars are coming out. “Jubilee’s right, y’know. It doesn’t have to be one thing or the other.” Logan’s not sure whether Morph’s really talking to him, or Morph’s just talking to Morph. “And why shouldn’t the Gene Freaks and the Gender Freaks stick together?”
Gene Freaks is, for better or worse, familiar enough, but, “Gender Freaks?”
“What some of them called themselves. That one new to you?” Morph asks, a smirk pasted over the question.
“New name, I guess.” He huffs, considering. “Gene Freaks and Gender Freaks. I like it. ‘d give Cyke a conniption fit for not being polite, but -” he shrugs, an amused smirk on his face at the idea of Summer’s reaction.
Morph grins, “You take the names they call you, and you hold onto them with - well, with pride, they can’t hit you with them anymore, can they?”
Logan shakes his head. “Gene Freaks and Gender Freaks. I like that,” he says again, and looks over at Morph. “Jubes is right, it really isn’t just one or the other.”
Morph takes a long drink. “Felt sort of like… well, like meeting you and the X-Men for the first time. Being around people who are freaks in the same kind of ways I’m a freak. Talking to other people who aren’t all… just a man, or just a woman.” Morph takes another drink, and adds quickly, doing a rapid shift-through of forms, “Because, of course, I can be so many different things.”
Logan takes a drink. “Still always Morph.”
“Yeah? You can tell?”
Logan taps the side of his nose.
Morph shoves his shoulder, exclaiming in mock offence, “I can’t believe you’re saying I smell.”
“Could find ya a mile away.”
“And which me is that?” Morph flips through a few other faces, “I could be anyone,” Morph says, and looks back at Logan with the face of one of the drag queens - mostly. There’s more of Morph’s face - Morph’s usual face - there.
“You. Morph.”
“And who’s that?”
“You tell me.”
Morph plasters on a smirk, flicks through a variety of forms - for a moment, Jean’s face looks over at him - and then flicks away. Lying back on the grass, a pale, almost featureless face stares up at the stars. “Maybe I don’t know.”
Logan takes a moment, considers. Morph’s face may be without hair or a nose, but - it’s not truly featureless. The cheekbones, the shape of the brows, the eyes - all of these he recognizes easily as his friend. And there’s still - that sense that some exhaustion, some drain on Morph has diminished, that his friend is more at ease, less worn and harrowed. That - something. A softness, almost.
“Looks like Morph to me.”
Morph runs two fingers along the new face. “Hmm. I guess it does.” The face spreads in a smile, and becomes even more recognizable as his friend. “Very mysterious of me.”
Logan chuckles, then reaches one hand over and taps the X logo where it still sits on Morph’s jacket. “You’re an X-Man. And a friend.”
“X-Man. What a name.” Morph says with a snort, then sticks an elbow into the grass to sit back up. “Guess I’m stuck with you, then.”
“Guess you are.” Logan takes another drink. “I don’t remember being a kid. Couldn’t tell you what I looked like then. Don’t know if my parents named me Logan or if I got that somewhere else. They sure didn’t name me Wolverine. I’ve been cut up and blown half a dozen ways to Sunday, and when my powers heal me, they heal me like this. Don’t got a problem with that. Spent a lot of time lookin’ to find answers about myself, tryin’ to figure out what of my past is real. Who I am. Nowadays… I guess I’m trying to be okay with being the guy who’s here. Most days I am. Maybe that’ll change in another decade or two, I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’ll remember something else.”
Logan shakes his head. “Still. I know… I’ve seen a lot of things. Lot of people. What I do know is it ain’t my business to tell anyone else where to go lookin’ for answers, or what they're gonna find.” He takes a drink. “Everybody's gotta find their own way. Ain't here to stand in the way.”
Morph’s looking at the beer glass, nodding slowly.
“I’m Logan. I’m Wolverine. That’s me. You’re Morph. You’re happy, I’m happy. You wanna change, you can change. Go to Pride, I’ll go with you. I’m here. Just,” he adds, “ don’t bring me shitty beer.”
“Real poetry there, Wolvie,” Morph says, “but - thanks.”
Morph lays back down in the grass, shifting again in the process, so dark brown hair swoops out and flops back against the grass. Logan looks back up at the stars, and just listens to the quiet sounds of the night, to Morph breathing, until Morph says, “I don’t think I know who I am. But… I don’t think I’m just - a man .”
“Alright,” Logan says.
“Huh.” Morph says.
A few long moments pass. An owl hoots from the treeline.
“Hey Morph,”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for telling me.”
---
In the kitchen the next morning, he finds Morph and the remnants of the night’s discussion.
“ - ze and zir - or is it hir? here? - is anyone really going to fit that in their heads, with all of Cyclops’ combat maneuvers and ten new mutant codenames a week to keep track of?” Morph says, in a voice that’s trying too hard to make this a joke. “I mean, we’re X-Men even when not all of us are men, it’s not like we make this make sense.”
Logan snorts at that.
“It’s not like being he when you’re not - whatever, just a man - is that bad.” Morph makes a face. “Ugh. That’s a weird sentence to say.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s that good .” Logan says. “Least for you.”
“Does it matter?”
“You tell me.”
“Ugh, fine , I suppose I’d like it if there was something else, but the new thing just doesn’t - I don’t know, just doesn’t fit right. Maybe I’d just need to get used to it.”
Jubilee yawns as she enters the kitchen, and both Morph and Logan turn to look at her. “Get used to what?” she asks as she rummages in one of the cupboards for cereal.
Logan looks at Morph. Morph looks at Logan.
“Just some words folks were using at the parade yesterday, hadn’t heard ‘em before.” Logan says. “Gotta learn how to use them for folks who don’t use he or she.”
“Who don’t - oh yeah, alright.” Jubilee sits down with her cereal. “What do they use, then?”
“Ze.”
“Huh. Guess that sorta sounds the same, so,”
“You try it then, Jubes,” Morph says. “Like - I don’t know - like you were using it for me.”
Jubilee looks at Morph, then at Logan, then back at Morph. “Uh, okay. This is Morph. Ze is having waffles for breakfast. Ze is a shapeshifter and he - ze - does really funny impressions of people on the news, and also everybody else. Uh. Morph - ze is making a weird face.”
“See, it still sounds weird.”
“I don’t know,” Jubilee shrugs. “I probably need to get more used to it too. But it’s cool that they came up with something new.”
“I mean, yeah.” Morph says, then frowns. “It really feels like there should be something already. Don’t the grammar books in, you know, schools that actually teach grammar, just use ‘he’ for everyone?”
“A rather outmoded and sexist notion, I’ve found,” Hank remarks without missing a beat, as he enters the conversation and the kitchen with an empty coffee cup - because if there was anyone ready to leap right to a conversation about grammar in the morning, it would be Hank. “Though one might say it is based on the same principle that underlies our being X-Men, rather than, perhaps, X-People.”
“See, that’s what I’m saying,” Morph says, but halfheartedly.
“While I think you would - and perhaps have - found that rule in some grammar texts of today,” Hank says, refilling his coffee mug, “I think it is quite rightly falling out of favor in professional writing.”
“And what would professional writers use instead?”
“Why, ‘he or she’, I’d imagine, at least in formal writing -”
“See, that’s no help,” Morph adds to Logan.
Hank looks momentarily between Logan and Morph. Logan adds, “Met some folks at the parade yesterday using some new pronoun, not he or she.”
“Ze,” Morph adds.
“Ah yes, searching to coin an indeterminate - or perhaps universal, gender neutral, singular third person pronoun. Do you know, that search dates back to the eighteenth century, in fact, it was a Scottish economist who proposed the use of ou -”
“See, I was right, there should be something already,” Morph says. “How can we have been at this since the eighteenth century and still there’s not something better than ou or ze.”
“Well, every word was new once. Perhaps your friends from the parade will be part of the new movement to bring ze - or, as you’d like, a ‘better’ singular third person pronoun - into the language, much as the Bard did for so many new words. Why, even the word ‘mutant’ has only been in use this century, though it comes from the Latin -”
“There should still be something there in the dictionary by now, if it’s been since the 18th century.” Morph grumbles. “Or at least that people use, if grammarians don’t want to add it.” Morph adds. “Even if they don’t use it, it should - I don’t know. Fit different. Sound better.”
“What does that mean?” Jubilee asks over her cereal.
Morph shrugs and deflates slightly. “Who knows.”
“When someone says - y’know, the thing - for you, you want it to sound right when they say it.” Logan says.
“Wouldn’t hurt,” Morph says with a shrug. “Wouldn’t mind not having to learn a new word, but that’s probably out. Maybe I’ll know it when I’ll hear it.”
“Oh, well ,” Beast starts with a twinkle in his eye that bodes a solution or a history lecture, or possibly both. “For a word in common use, I believe Logan here has aptly demonstrated just the word.”
Logan, Morph, and Jubilee all stare at him.
“I believe I am quoting you correctly, ‘you want it to sound right when they say it’?” Hank smiles. “While more commonly used today in its plural form, using they in a singular form is common informal speech to cover, perhaps, an effectively universal set of possible someones , regardless of gender. And it is not without historical antecedents, my dear Morph, it was used by Shakespeare, and many others in speech and writing through several centuries.”
Morph, is in fact, already apparently vibrating with excitement, and only half listening to Hank’s continued lecture.
“It is, in fact, much more novel, in a historical sense, to suggest that ‘he’ should be used universally. And though it may not be favored by formal grammarians, ‘you’ was originally a plural pronoun, in fact, it remained so until the 17th century. Its pairing with the plural conjugation ‘are’ as ‘you are’ just as the plural ‘they are’ rather than a singular ‘he is’ or ‘she is’ still illustrates its history, and no grammar textbook today would suggest that using ‘you’ to refer to a singular person should be absent from formal writing! It seems entirely possible that ‘they’, in its prevalence in the singular in everyday speech and writing, should undergo the same evolution. Whether it would fit the needs of your friends, who would use ‘ze’ to refer to - hmm. Zemself? Or another known individual, rather than an unknown - hypothetical - individual, I cannot say.”
“But why shouldn’t it?” Morph says, gesturing emphatically with a coffee cup. “Why shouldn’t we say, you know, that’s -” Morph stutters, “that’s anyone, that’s I don’t know, ‘oh there’s Kay, they’re heading off to go punch some Sentinels.’”
“I would like to think, as we move into a more tolerant and accepting future, there will be more than enough room for the singular they, the ze, the ou, the em, and others not yet considered, to encompass the diversity of human and mutant experience alike. Ah, what a fine garden is language, the more beautiful for what new can grow in it.”
Morph chuckles, with a shake of the head. “I like your optimism. I’m glad they’ve got ‘ze’, you know, happy to use it for - zem? But I like the idea of - variety. ‘They’ - I - well.”
Hank smiles, something kind and - understanding, in a way that suggests he’s perhaps understanding more than Morph outright says. “I am sure it will make for quite an interesting linguistic evolution,” he says as he stirs cream into his coffee. “I am sure I have some books on earlier linguistic shifts, if of interest - I should revisit some of the Bard’s earlier works, myself,” he remarks, more to himself, as he makes his way out of the kitchen with a wave.
Morph spins and points at Jubilee. “Jubes! Try it! ‘They’!”
“Huh? Okay.” Jubilee taps her spoon against her bowl for a moment while she considers. “It’s just like - they - yeah, right? Right. Okay, this is Morph. They just got really excited about a history and grammar lecture from Beast, which is weird because he’s - they’s? they’re normally pretty cool and funny. They can even make Wolverine laugh.”
Morph is bouncing with excitement fit to hit the ceiling. “That’s it! They’s it!” He - they laugh and roll their eyes quickly at how absurd that last sentence sounded, but they’re still smiling.
Jubilee blinks at the immediate enthusiasm, but then she just raises her orange juice in a toast.
Morph rocks back on their heels and adopts a confident grin, half a smirk. “See, it’s perfect, because I can be anyone - any of them -” they do a quick run through of the faces of the X-Men and a few of the rogues gallery - “but I’m always me,” they conclude, flicking briefly onto the bare, moon-white face before hitting their usual face, tossing back brown hair.
Logan looks at them, and their wide smile. They look the same as they had before, the haggard hollows in their cheeks absent, bruises under their eyes gone, the same sense that burdens that had worn on them had been lifted away, softening the lines that had been carved into their face.
And of course, they still look like Morph.
“Whatever floats your boat,” Logan says, taking another swig of his coffee.
Morph looks at him, and a swift, soft smile crosses their face before they break into a grin.
“Guess I’ll get used to practicing that,” Jubilee says. “...Right?”
Morph, still smiling, fidgets slightly, brushing off their jacket. “Yeah… yeah. I guess it’ll take some getting used to, but… let’s try it. I’m a they!”
There are footsteps outside the kitchen, and all three of them look at each other.
“What’s going on now?” Cyclops asks as he walks into the kitchen - everyone’s refilling their coffee now, apparently.
“... Nooothing?” Jubilee says uncertainly.
Morph looks at Logan. Logan gives them a small nod. Your call, I’ve got your back.
Scott looks between the two of them as he waits for the coffee maker.
Morph stands up a little taller. “I’m a they,” they say, and when Summers looks puzzled, they add. “I mean, people can call me ‘they’. Not ‘he’. Er. At least, I’m trying it out.”
“Oh,” Scott - smiles, actually. “Should I update your file, then? I could put a notice out to the team -”
“Whoa, there. Gonna try this out for more than thirty seconds.”
“Oh - oh, yes.” Scott nods, smiles in an understanding way that makes Logan wonder what else Scott had been meaning to tell him earlier. “Always good to test things out.”
“But - thanks.” Morph ducks their head and smiles. “Gene freaks and gender freaks gotta stick together, yeah?” They chuckle. “Sometimes in the same person.”
Scott, unexpectedly, smiles at that. “That we do.”
“I’ll let you know. About the team and - records, and whatever.”
Scott nods again. “Just let me know what you need. If there’s anything else, I - we know some people.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Scott fills his coffee mug. “Hey - thanks for letting me know, Morph.”
“Yeah - yeah, thanks Cyke.”
Summers looks around the room for a moment, then nods his head over his coffee and makes his exit.
“... Huh.” Morph says, after a long moment. “There goes the boy scout, alright.”
“What do you bet he’s got a color-coded binder full of pronouns?” Jubilee asks.
“Oh, absolutely,” Morph says, leaning back against the counter and adopting a broad grin. “Scarlet, crimson, magenta, vermillion...”
Logan just laughs.
Morph looks over, and smiles at him. They reach over and tap their coffee mug against his. “Thanks, Wolvie.”
“What for?”
Morph shakes their head slightly, and grins. “For being much better company than Sabretooth.”
Logan lets out a huff of laughter, and taps his coffee mug back against theirs.
You’re happy, I’m happy.
He leans back against the counter and considers a kitchen full of gene freaks and gender freaks, as a yawning Rogue joins Jubilee and Morph at the table, where the conversation has somehow turned into a discussion about the merits of pulp in orange juice.
Yeah, he’s more than happy with that.