Another fucking first day of school. Christ, he hated them. Third one in a year. That’s what you get for getting in trouble and staying there. Sooner or later they got sick of his ass and booted him out, and then he was shuttled to another one to start it all over again.

Whatever. Wasn’t like he was gonna use any of this school bullshit when he got out. He was good at and enjoyed exactly two things: fighting and fucking. And he planned on making his living doing one or the other. With any luck he’d find a way to combine them both in a profitable fashion.

Until he turned 18, though, he was the property of the state and they were getting sick and tired of shuttling him around each time he got expelled from a school and usually thrown out his halfway house to boot. The social services system just wasn’t that well equipped to deal with a semi-feral mutant teenager. Even the foster care shitholes that housed other mutants couldn’t get a grip on his crazy ass. That were their mistake, trying to control him, tell him what to do, when to go out and come in, where to go. He was going to do exactly what the fuck he wanted.

Well except for now. For now he had to deal with another goddamn first day of school. The new kid again. He knew the routine. Time to dig up some more of his infamous testicular fortitude and establish his presence right off the bat before some numb nut got the bright idea to take him on and almost wind up with a gutful of bone claws like last time. That little incident was what landed his ass in juvie the first time. The kid just needed a little plastic surgery to his face, nothing serious.

Now he was in Westchester because he’d had been busted playing gynecologist with two cheerleaders in the gym teacher’s office. He was nothing if not creative in his various ways to drive insane every court appointed officer cursed to ever be assigned to his case.

“Logan,” his new case worker said, mistaking the ferocious frown on the 16 year old’s face for anxiety at starting a new school. The dark-haired and surly teen was actually scoping out the girls loitering on the steps before first bell, wondering which one might be the school skank. Not bad pickings here.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

The new guy sighed dramatically. “You can’t honestly think I am going to call you Wolverine?”

The kid’s silence spoke volumes, that he would remain silent until addressed by his preferred name. The case worker was already completely over dealing with this boy. The last two days, getting his spotty records from his old school, quieting the two girls’ parents’ outrage, and springing this little troublemaker juvenile detention center for violating his probation again, then shuttling him halfway across the state, had exhausted his patience. Now he was ready and willing to dump the kid off and only see him during monthly visits.

“Fiiiine,” he sighed. “Wolverine, just TRY to get through today without getting the police involved and after class a shuttle will be here will pick you up right here to take you to the Xavier Institute. Your new home.”

Wolverine snorted and rolled his eyes dramatically before he reached for the door handle. It was locked. He snarled and shot a glare at the asshole. He didn’t like being caged up, and it wasn’t exactly healthy for this nerd to remain in an enclosed space with him for much longer.

“Seriously, kid. This is it, your last shot, the judge is sick of you. You mess this up and prison is the next stop. Not country club jail but federal pound-you-in-the-ass prison. If you can’t cut it at Xavier’s you’re screwed. No kidding.”

“No kidding,” Wolverine mimicked sarcastically. “Ya gonna let me out now or do I have to listen to another lecture?” The man sighed and popped the lock, letting loose the wild animal on yet another unsuspecting school. God help them all.

Soon as he walked in the door was he accosted by an obscenely perky sophomore. He physically recoiled from her painfully exited greeting. “HI! YOU MUST BE, LIKE, LOGAN, THE NEW STUDENT!”

He winced as her voice pierced his head like an acid drenched buzz saw. She took no notice. “HI! I’M KITTY! I’M ASSIGNED TO, LIKE, SHOW YOU AROUND AND STUFF. I LIVE AT XAVIER’S TOO SO I’LL GET YOU THERE AFTER CLASS TOO! YOU’RE GONNA REALLY LIKE IT HERE!”

“Shit! Could ya lower the volume?!” Her face fell momentarily, but almost instantly re-hitched itself into its insanely happy expression.

“Sorry, I forgot you got sensitive ears. I read your file.” He had a file already. Inwardlyhe preened at the idea of his reputation preceding him so quickly. “I tend to get a little loud when I’m excited, and I’m like totally excited to meet you!”

He wondered momentarily if she got that loud when excited in other ways, but the mental image of going deaf if he tried to nail her made him dismiss the petite brunette as a potential score. Plus, he didn’t piss where he ate, so if she lived at Xavier’s too then he wasn’t going there. Hard enough to pump-and-dump a chick if he had to deal with her at school. Didn’t want to deal with that crap in his off hours.

“Want me to show you were your first class is?” Christ, she was practically bouncing with barely suppressed hyperactivity. He hoped this Institute was big and his dorm was far away from hers.

He shrugged in acceptance of her offer, but he didn’t rally give a shit. He was just going to sleep through class anyways.

She prattled away as she led him to geometry. She was a mutant, as were over half of the students at Westchester High, most of whom lived at the Xavier Institute if they weren’t local. Xavier’s was part mutant boarding house, part vocational training program for the residents.

She clearly was on a roll giving Wolverine the full tour. She could walk through walls, the blue guy who looked like a demon could teleport, the lanky and mean looking guy could create seismic waves and rock the ground, his repulsive buddy had amphibious characteristics. The punk skateboarder was obviously a mutant as he was covered in armored plates and his mohawked buddy was arcing lines of electricity between his fingers.

Not that he cared, but it was at least mildly interesting to Wolverine’s usually bored mind to see so many freaks in one place, especially showing their powers freely. But he was officially tired of the half-pint’s running commentary and just wanted her to shut up and set him free from her screechy voice.

“So, like what’s your mutation, Logan? I mean besides the senses?” she asked just as they reached his class. As he opened the door he snarled loudly and flicked out three 10 inch long bone claws from one hand and smirked as Kitty gasped and stepped back. “The name’s Wolverine, girl. Use it.”

He looked over his shoulder into the classroom, satisfied that everyone in there had seen it too. Now they knew who the fuck they were dealing with. He slid the claws back with a sickening ripping sound, and the girl’s eyes grew impossibly large as she watched the holes in his hand heal almost instantly.

He shouldered past her to skulk into the room, happy to be free of her irritating company and secure in the knowledge she would be too afraid to pester him further.

“Wow, that’s pretty cool!” she chirped.

He paused.

Cool?

COOL?

Usually his trick elicited responses of “Gross!” “Don’t hurt me!” or “OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

This Kitty chick was seriously bent. He shot her a dirty look and stomped to the last row and flung himself into the desk closest to the window. He had just gotten comfortable, found just the right spot to lay his head on his arms and let the sun fall across his face in preparation for the first of many naps that day, when his chair was yanked from under him.

From his sprawled position on the floor he glared up the preppy fuck with red sunglasses leaning over him. “You’re in my seat, newbie.” Behind him a knockout redhead in a cheerleader uniform smirked down at Wolverine with a haughty look on her face.

He shoved himself to his feet and leaned aggressively into the suicidal guy’s face. Sometimes he reeeeeally fucking hated being only 5’3” because this guy had a half foot on him and didn’t look at all impressed as he peered down his nose at Wolverine.

“Didn’t see no name on it, bub,” he sneered, then leaned around Prepster to give the girlfriend the hairy eyeball. “Hiya, Red. Wanna know how I got kicked out of my last school?”

A red flare seared past his face and when he turned to look the word “CYKE” was burned into the desk surface. “Now it’s got my name on it. Beat it, runt,” Shades said, then shoved past Wolverine to take his seat, leaving the smaller teen growling in anger. The redhead swept past him in a waft of prissy perfume to sit next to her boyfriend and turned her back on Wolverine, dismissing him entirely.

He was set to unleash the claws and make shish kebab out of Shades when the instructor came in and grabbed his attention. It was kinda hard not to when the guy was a shocking shade of blue and furry. His stentorian tone brooked no argument as he looked at the pissed off looking new face glaring aggressively at the head of the football team, and instructed, “Ah…you must be Mr. Logan, please take the seat here,” and gestured to the worst one in the house, right at the front, in the smack middle. Wolverine hunched his shoulders more deeply in his leather jacket and slid into the chair.

Fucking first day of school. Christ he hated them.

By the time lunch rolled around he was incredibly grateful. This totally sucked. Word had apparently gotten around that this Cyke character had called him out and the newbie had allegedly been spared an ass-kicking by Dr. McCoy. Only here half a fucking day and he was already the school pussy.

Some giant fat ass tried to shove him into a locker…HIM! Only thing that had saved him from that penultimate embarrassment was a flash of the claws that backed Tubbo off, but also earned the unwanted attention of passing Principal Darkholme, who gave him detention for “menacing display of mutation.”

“Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Logan. You’re new here so it’s not a full week. Next time it will be.” She gave him a level stare that elicited giggles from the kids behind him and pointed whispers at his back that he clearly heard.

The blob who had tried to stuff him in the metal coffin was given a mild scolding and sent to his next class. “Fucking teacher’s pet,” Wolverine muttered as Blob sauntered past him, only to earn a hard shove that left a dent in his locker from where his head banged against it. Now he couldn’t get the damn thing open. His smokes were in there. Fucking great.

He skipped the cafeteria completely, not only to avoid the assholes who’d apparently already decided he was their personal piñata but because he had a better idea for lunch. He walked behind the gym, the universal spot for the shiftless and shady to hang out and break some rules. Sure enough, the ground was littered with cigarette butts and a couple of fellow losers were propped against the wall. He earned a few surly nods and returned them, then assumed the position against the wall with them.

This school sucked worse than all the others put together. Previously he’d been big man on campus or at least the resident badass. Years of carefully practiced attitude and posturing out the window in a single rotten morning, and he was now relegated to the bottom feeder pool by the super-powered punk asses of Mutant High.

He pulled his trusty pint of whiskey from his jacket and took a slug. Never leave home without it. Noting the interested eyes of Mohawk and the earthquake guy, he passed it over. Quickest way to make friends and influence people: booze. Not that Wolverine wanted friends, but since things were not at all going his way having a posse might not be a bad idea.

“Bezerker,” Mohawk said as he nodded his thanks and passed the pint back.

“Wolverine.”

“What kind of a name is that?” Earthquake sneered.

Wolverine cocked an eyebrow, took a meaningful long pull from the hooch then stuffed it back in his pocket. The guy’s gaze followed the motion. “Yeh, and what’s your fucking awesome handle then?”

The lanky kid muttered.

“Sorry, what?” Wolverine heard him just fine, just wanted to hear him say it again. It was fucking hilarious.

“Avalanche,” he said defiantly, his eyes narrowed in embarrassment. The ground underneath Wolverine’s feet rocked slightly.

“Neat trick,” he growled. Yeh, he could use a posse like this.

“Whatever man. You can call me Lance, I don’t care,” he lit a cigarette moodily.

He pulled out the booze again and passed it to Lance. “Logan, but don’t call me that.” He quirked a grin at the other teen and peace was made when the corner of Lance’s mouth hitched momentarily before taking the pint.

Just as the hooch made the round back to Bezerker (AKA Ray), screaming, roaring sound surged and around the corner tore the most kick-ass Kawasaki KLX 450R Wolverine had ever seen. Bikes were the only thing in this world he loved almost as much as knocking someone’s teeth down their throat or hiking some slut’s knees over his shoulders.

The rider slid to a stop, spraying gravel all over them. Wolverine coughed as the dust cloud cleared, pissed off at the black leather clad figure on the bike. When the helmet came off his revised his attitude from pissed to horny. Long ebony hair streaked with white tumbled down well past the shoulders of one fine-ass looking chick, goth as all get-out. Red the Cheerleader would have to wait.

“Lance!” she called her voice raspy and thick with Southern summers. “Guess what I got?” She flashed a black American Express card that clearly wasn’t hers.

“No way. I’m still on KP from the last time you dragged me into your shit,” Avalanche turned away from her take the pint from Bezerker.

Her eyes lit on it. “Bad boys, tsk tsk. Lemme have a hit.” She held out her hand imperiously, like someone used to getting what she wanted.

“Not mine.” Lance nodded to Wolverine and handed the pint back to him.

He appraised the girl in front of him. Shit, straddling that bike she was sex on wheels, literally. “Whaddaya gimme for it, girl?” He walked over to her and tapped the flask against one of her leather clad thighs.

Her black slicked lips smirked at him. “Well, I got lots to offer.” Hot shit, she was so game.

“How about yer name?” He leaned towards her a bit more, impressed she didn’t budge an inch. That move usually made most people take a few steps back. Ballsy, he liked that.

“Oh, I get called all kinds of names,” she teased, her lips pursed in a thoughtful expression.

Playing coy, nice. This little piece was right up his alley. He inhaled and was mildly disappointed he couldn’t smell even the slightest hint of arousal. But that was okay, he’d make her ooze it later. He did however smell something almost as enticing as the smoky sandlewood that was her natural scent. “How about a smoke?”

She unzipped her jacket and he was about 2 seconds from sporting enough wood to run the Louisville Slugger factory when he saw her sheer mesh shirt, red as blood, and a lacey black bra on view. She reached into an inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds. She withdrew one with slim, leather gloved fingers and held it out.

“Nah, the other smoke I know ya got in there, sweetcheeks.” He grabbed her hand, and she gasped and tried to pull away, her eyes pissed off now. He plucked the joint from the pack and tucked it behind his ear, then handed her the bottle. She snatched her hand from his and pushed him back hard.

Damn she was strong. He was down with that. A bit of rough was just his thing.

She unscrewed the cap from the bottle and took three long draws. Her neck arched invitingly, and he could already visualize himself putting a shitload of hickeys on it.

The stuff of champions this one was. Wolverine was on target now, this chick was gonna be his no problem. She let out only a small gasp as she swallowed the last burn of whiskey and handed the bottle back. He winked at her and took a sip. Her taste was fucking sweet on his tongue.

He tilted his head back for another taste and lost eye contact with her.

Bad idea.

In a split second a glove was off her hand and she grabbed him by the throat. Fucking fire ants crawled through his skin from the contact then turned into a swarm of killer bees from the depths of hell. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his eyes wide at the face of the spitfire leaning over him. She plucked her joint from behind his ear and tucked it back in the pack.

“See ya later Wolverine,” she laughed and blew him a kiss, then kick started the bike and roared away, covering him in dust and gravel.

Avalanche and Bezerker lifted him to his feet, chuckling. It was like a rite of initiation around here: every dude who thought he could fuck with that girl learned the hard way.

Wolverine shook his head hard, and pulled away from the two other boys. “Shit, who was that?”

Bezerker was laughing his ass off and he slapped the smaller teen on the back. “That, my man, was Rogue.”

“Rogue, yeh? Shit, think I’m in love,” he chuckled. Any chick that could put him on his ass was definitely worth the price of admission.

Avalanche shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna go there. That Rogue is one seriously crazy bitch.”

Might as well have waved a red flag in front of a bull.

Fan-fucking-tastic. The bus to take him, Kitty, Avalanche, Bezerker and a bunch of other mutants back to Xavier’s also toted that red sunglasses asshole and his bitch-faced squeeze. And naturally they were sitting in the very last row, which until today has always been Wolverine’s rightful domain at any school blessed with his presence. That was where the alpha sat, it was high school law.

Well, fuck, he wasn’t going to change his ways now. Besides, once they were off campus if Shades wanted to rumble Wolverine was more than ready to throw down. He stalked down the aisle with ‘Zerker and ‘Lanche on his heels and flung himself into the seat across from the Pukey Power Couple.

His new buds had clued him in: Cyclops was quarterback, school darling, and a world class jerk-off. Red was Jean: head cheerleader, top striker on the soccer team, and an uber-bitch. Top of the social food chain at Mutant High, topping freaks and normals alike with their good looks and powers. Cyke had gotten off with a slap on the wrist earlier in the semester for blasting a guy from another school who’d dared to sack him during a football game. Jean got top marks by plucking the answers telepathically from the minds of the nerds in her classes and used her telekinesis to knock girls further down the social castes out of her way as she swished through the halls.

“Losers up front, runt,” grunted Cyke when he saw the new kid slouch into the sit opposite his.

“Go ahead, there’s a free spot behind the bus driver, One-Eye,” Wolverine taunted as the bus pulled out of the lot.

Zerker and Lanche nudged each other. They had a feeling the new guy was their kind of dude, and maybe someone long needed to shake up the established pecking order around here.

Cyke’s hand went to his shades, but Jean stayed his hand. “He’s not worth it, babe.” She favored Wolverine with a look usually reserved for clogged toilets.

“How do ya know until ya try, Red?” he leered appreciatively at her tits under her prim pink button up sweater. A chick like that had a white cotton bra on, no black lace that was for sure.

“Stay away from my girl, limp dick,” Cyke warned, his hand tightening around Jean’s waist.

“No problem, fuckface.” Wolverine grinned. “Uptight prudes aren’t my speed anyways. Unless she wants me to loosen her up.” He unleashed one claw and waggled it in a suggestive manner.

Jean gasped in fury and raised one hand to her head. Wolverine felt a sharp jab against his mind. This wasn’t his first dance with a telepath, but when they pried it was usually their last dance with him. Conjuring up a disgusting XXX rated image of Jean writhing under him on a pile of steaming garbage was enough to send her scurrying from his brain.

“Oh god, I’m going to vomit,” Jean gagged and buried her face in Cyke’s Polo shirt.

Cyke glared at the smaller teen and said low and threatening, “You gotta sleep sometime, pal.”

Half the bus was now watching them with undisguised glee. A fight on the way home was long overdue and much anticipated. Cyke and his little prom queen were reviled deeply by most of the mutants at Xavier’s, and they apparently had their hands full with the new kid with the crazy hair and attitude to spare.

“Didn’t know ya swung that way, Cyke,” Wolverine taunted. At the angry flush that spread over the jock’s face Zerker and Lanche high fived each other. Wolverine was definitely in.

“Fuck you,” Cyke muttered then turned his attention back to his girlfriend, who was turning green. The students who had overheard the exchange grinned at each other. Looked like the new kid was going to make life a helluva lot more interesting at Xavier’s. No on…NO ONE stood up to the Bully and the Bitch, as they were unaffectionately called behind their back.

Wolverine settled back in his seat, reassured he hadn’t lost his touch despite the rough start to the day. Yup, he’d be back in the driver’s seat of this shitty school in no time, just like all the other crapholes he’d lived through.

When he went to get off the bus, Cyke took a cheap shot and knocked him down the stairs. Wolverine tumbled, but managed to roll into a somersault and spring to his feet lightly and flicked out the claws. Kids gathered in a circle around the two boys as Cyke pushed Jean roughly to the side and raised his hand to his glasses.

“Enough” A sharp voice rang from the massive oak front door and through their minds. Wolverine saw an old man in a wheelchair. Nothing about him was particularly impressive, but for some reason the other students straightened up and headed for their dorms in an orderly fashion. “Summers,” the man said, “don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Cyke said politely, “Yes sir. Coach wants me to step up my strength conditioning program. I’ll go to the gym.” He walked past Wolverine as if he wasn’t there and went inside. The bald man watched the bigger boy until he disappeared around a corner, then smiled at the surly faced teen.

“Please, come in Wolverine.” He turned his chair away and wheeled inside. Wolverine slouched behind him, scuffing his dirty boots along the polished floors as he followed the guy to his office. Turned out this was the famous Xavier, telepath and mutant philanthropist.A reall goody-two shoes.

He explained the workings of the Institute, breakfast and dinner times, facilities, rules, regs, policies, procedure and enough other bullshit to nearly bore Wolverine to tears. He was about to yawn openly when the man finally got his attention. “We have a full program of vocational classes and we require every student in residence to enroll in at least one. And a physical fitness course also. Here’s a list of your choices.”

Hmm, not algebra or literature, but something honest-to-god-get-yer-hands-dirty classes. He was cool with that. The automotive repair classes he skimmed right over, he could already strip anything with a motor down to part and put it back together blind-folded. Welding, computer programming, electrical repair, plumbing, cooking, construction.

Hmmmm, woodworking. Sounded not too boring. “That one,” he pointed to it as he pushed the paper back to Xavier. “Excellent. What do you hope to do with that particular skill?”

Wolverine sighed; he didn’t like being asked questions about what he did or wanted. He just wanted to, ok? Jeez. He settled for, “I dunno, sounds easy.”

“Well…alright. We also have a wide selection of physical education programs.” And he passed over another class list.

“I don’t do gym,” the boy huffed. He did not change in lockers rooms with a bunch of other guys, or those fucking stupid ass uniforms. No way.

“Not gym. Consider these more recreational if you prefer. Surely an active young man such as yourself doesn’t want to sit around all day playing video games.”

“Why, you got Xbox?” he leaned forward interested.

Xavier’s face soured slightly. “No, we do not.” He gestured to the list again, “Please.”

Wolverine huffed and looked over the list. The sooner he got this shit over with the sooner he could get out of here and get some grub. With no lunch his stomach was starting to eat itself and he could smell the kitchens in full swing. Fencing, horseback riding, swimming, aerobics, weight lifting…hmm, maybe. Rock climbing, cycling, tennis, bowling, golf. Christ how much shit do they offer here? Wait.

“Boxing.”

Xavier’s smooth forehead wrinkled slightly. “Are you sure? I think perhaps the tai chi class or softball classes could use more students.”

“Boxing, definitely.” Wolverine allowed himself a smile. Punching people was a good exercise, especially if it was sanctioned and wouldn’t land his ass in juvie again.

The man sighed, “Alright, you can start boxing class tomorrow, sublevel 1, training room 3, at 4pm twice a week. The woodworking class is held only on Saturdays at 1pm in the shop on the second level. Here’s your schedule.” Wolverine inspected it for a moment before crumpling it up and shoving it in his pocket. He stood, ready to head for chow when Xavier stopped him. “Not yet. If you would please relax, we need to determine where to house you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” The old man was starting to put off the creepy vibes. “What do I need to relax for?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t explain. With so many students here with a wide ranging of mutations, I like to scan people’s minds, with their permission of course, to determine which roommates would be most suitable. I prefer not to mix students who don’t get along. It saves on the repair bills.”

“Like me and Cyke?” Wolverine gave him a nasty grin.

Xavier paused to examine the feral young man’s fierce expression. “Quite. Now just sit still and try to relax. I won’t do more than scan the surface of your mind just to see which students your living habits might work with.” After a few moments, during which Wolverine deliberately projected a few nightmarish thoughts of what had happened to the last guy he’d had to bunk with along with a few fond memories of extensive property damage.

Xavier’s eyes flew open. “Right, the fifth floor. There are private rooms there for those students not compatible with…” Wolverine shot an eyebrow up at that remark, “I mean…students who aren’t as well socialized as they…” The eyebrow climbed dangerously close to his hairline. “Ah…those who need more personal space,” Xavier finished with a mild cough to conceal his embarrassment.

“Riiiiight, gotcha,” Wolverine smirked at the old man and strolled out the door. Sweet, a private room, he could get up to all sorts of trouble in privacy.

Don’t be so sure.

Wolverine turned at the sound of Xavier in his head and saw the telepath smile benignly at him as he projected a mental map of the mansion and directions to Wolverine’s new living space. Ok, so the old man wasn’t a fool. Ah well, there were ways to get around that sort of nosiness and he’d find them.

At dinner, Wolverine went through the line with two trays at once, then wolfed down enough food to choke a battalion on deployment. Zerker and Lanche were alright guys, someone to sit with anyways and get the dirt on which chicks put out around the joint. Turned out quite a few, but it was tricky b/c apparently this place had some serious surveillance hardware.

Xavier and his staff apparently knew what was on the minds of a couple hundred horny teenagers living together with no parental units in sight. So there was a tight curfew of 10pm Sunday-Thursday and midnight Friday and Saturday. The school was locked up tighter than a nun’s snatch at curfew, and the girls and boy’s dorms were on opposite sides of the Institute.

But Lanche assured him there were plenty of ways around it, especially if you were banging a girl who could walk through walls. “No shit? Kitty? Don’t her voice drive you fucking nuts?” Wolverine looked over at the petite brunette who was chattering away with some other girls, oblivious that Lanche was expounding on the finer points of her blowjob technique.

“Nah, she’s a dirty talker. It’s hot,” he confided. “Besides there’s not a lot of conversation. We don’t date, she’s just slumming it with me,” he said carelessly, but Wolverine could detect a trace of disappointment coming from Avalanche as his eyes skimmed a little too carelessly over Kitty. Oh yeh, this guy had it bad and didn’t want to be just her dirty little secret. Pansy.

Bezerker was chilling with a human girl from town, nothing special. His gift with electricity made it a cinch for him to disable the electronic locks to sneak out to meet her at the lake on the far side of the grounds.

“Interesting,” Wolverine mused as she scoped out the potential tail in the cafeteria. Not a bad lot, not at all. That chick with the green hair and eyes looked interesting. And that slick looking Asian chick was fine, but the yellow would have to go. Hmm. No hotties as fine as that Rogue character, but lots of potential here. “Rogue live here?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual, don’t-really-give-a-fuck, manner.

No dice. Avalanche leveled him with a look. “Dude, I’m serious. Don’t mess with Rogue, she will fuck up your world. I’ve spent more time in detention, KP, and the police station since she got here than I’d ever done in my whole damn life...and that’s a lot to begin with.”

Wolverine raised an eyebrow. “What? She your girl?” If so, tough shit, Wolverine did not hold to bros-before-hos.

Zerker laughed. “Hell, no, she’s his cousin. She came to Westchester High two years ago after her folks booted her out. Lance is just annoyed she’s more trouble than he is.” Avalanche muttered something darkly then returned to shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth. “You like the quiet life now, right?” Zerker elbowed his friend hard in the ribs, making him choke. Lanche shoved back and managed to spill his drink onto his pal, causing Zerker to momentarily short circuit and shock the shit of all 3 of them.

“Quit fucking around!” Wolverine snarled, trying to smash his hair back down from where it has stood on end from Zerker’s discharge. After dinner the two guys offered to take Wolverine down to the rec room, but he was tired as hell. It had been a long day and he wasn’t used to being around so many freaks like him.

He felt like he’d strained his neck staring around at all of them. One big ass dude covered in metal, some staffer sitting with Xavier had big-ass white wings sprouting from his back, one kid was making if snow over a few tables, and some mega-nerd had almost mown Wolverine down in the hallway ad he followed the big blue Dr. McCoy talking a mile a minute and waving his freaky looking metal arm with a bunch of wires and things sticking out of it. And don’t even get him started on the fliers and floaters. That was just damn weird.

What he needed was some peace and quiet. The place was like a damn circus, way too many kids making all sorts of bizarre noises and visual effects. Made his damn head hurt, and that was rare. He found his room by following the mental map Xavier had shared with him. It was tucked up on the top floor of the Institute, near the back of the building. His room was just to his liking, small, nothing fancy, just a dresser, closet, desk, and double bed. Best of all, a private bathroom. With his enhanced senses, the shared bathrooms he’d lived with for almost all his time in the foster system had been one of the hardest things to deal with. There weren’t enough matches in the world to eliminate the kind of stink half a dozen boys could make in an enclosed space.

Thankfully his junk was here in the two boxes his case worker had dropped off. Wolverine didn’t own much in the world and lived like a nomad mostly. But what he did own he protected fiercely. A few pairs of jeans, extra set of boots, winter coat, leather gloves, mess of t-shirts, couple of books. His favorites: The Dirt by Motley Crue, 1984, Catcher in the Rye. Typical angry teenage boy junk. But there were a few that were his particular favorites: The Art of War, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway.

There was something to be said for those old bastards. They really got it. One knew how to survive by knowing yourself and figuring out everyone else’s angle. And what wasn’t to like about a personal philosophy built around a cross-country bike ride. And Hemingway, well that guy was in a class by himself. Just man vs. nature. Good shit.

Wolverine tossed Old Man onto the bed, figuring he’d read a bit of it again after he showered. Ernest soothed him, that guy was a man’s man and just falling into a book written in such a sparse yet self-assured style was a good way to unwind. Wolverine checked out the bathroom. Sweet. Good towels, basic shampoo, soap, toothpaste, nothing fancy or fruity. Basic, just his thing.

He groaned in pleasure when he stepped under the spray. Good to know Xavier didn’t skimp on the important shit, like water pressure hard enough to pound you through the tile. Suddenly really damn tired, Wolverine sat on the floor of the bathtub and let it pour over him, soothing away shoulder muscles that had been tensed into rock hard bunches since he’d stepped out of his case worker’s car that morning. Long ass day.

This place might be a step above, ok 10 steps above, where he’d lived before, but it was still a kinda of prison. And one that was populated by mutants as weird as him, and some big pains in the ass like Cyke, and probably some of his asshole buddies Wolverine hadn’t yet met.

Despite the nicer than usual trappings, Wolverine knew this was going to be another pain in the ass, and that he needed to fly right or he could kiss good water pressure and private rooms goodbye and say hello “pound-you-in-the-ass-prison” as his caseworker had quaintly termed it. As much as he enjoyed giving the finger to the establishment in general, he wasn’t particularly keen on going to the joint. He heard what happened to muties in there. No enough money in the prison system to segregate them, so getting thrown into a general population where the ratio of 100 normals to each mutant wasn’t his idea of a fun time.

Such thoughts aggravated him, so he banished them as he scrubbed the soap from his face, toweled off and flopped down on his bed naked. At least now he could sleep in the buff. Funnily enough, his previous roommates hadn’t appreciated the display and he’d been forced to kip in boxers and a shirt. He chalked it up to their own insecurity or rampant homophobia. Whatever, it was just more comfortable. Bonus to the private room was now he could take care of his morning wood without having to sneak to the bathroom. Having a fantasy of banging one of those Victoria Secret models interrupted by someone shouting at him hey had to take a dump really put a damper on a good jerk.

He fell asleep reading, but woke up a few hours later, still the middle of the night. Just a long ingrained habit, a combination of sleeping lightly because you never knew when one of your bunkmates might decide to jump your sleeping ass and pummel you for no reason, and knowing that this was the best time of night to do something you know the powers that be wouldn’t approve of.

Wolverine put on his jeans and black t-shirt, stuffed his lighter and cigarettes in his back pocket and listened at the door. No sound, excellent. Engage stealth mode.

He opened the door and took two steps into the doorway before a piercing sound stabbed into his ears. He clapped his hands to his head and snarled. What the fuck?! A whoosh of moving air and the winged guy was landing before him. He clicked a remote at his waist and the infernal noise stopped.

“What the hell was that?” Wolverine growled, shaking his head to stop the ringing in his ears.

“Door alarm. No going out after curfew. New kid, right?” Wolverine nodded sullenly. Yup, definitely a jail. “Since you’re new, you get a free pass.” Wings smiled at him. “Next time it’s KP duty, cool?”

The kid put a convincing expression of nonchalance and shrugged, “Whatever.”

Wings extended a hand, “I’m Warren.” The surly dark haired teen looked at the hand skeptically for a moment before shaking it.

“Wolverine.”

“Right. Gotcha. They call me Angel.” Wolverine sniggered at the pansy-assed name. Angel didn’t seem bothered by it, he probably heard it all the time. “Anyways, where were you going?”

“Wanted a smoke,” the boy grunted.

“No smoking on campus.” Of course. At least in jail they let you have a damn cigarette. “Back to bed.”

Wolverine’s hackles raised at that. “Thanks, Dad,” he sneered and closed his door in Angel’s amused face. No smoking on campus. Fuck that.

Soon as he heard Angel’s departure Wolverine checked the window. No trace of alarms that he could tell. Probably didn’t think they needed it on the top floor. Logan pushed up the window and pulled the screen into the room. He stuck his head out and looked up. Yup, the gutter was right there. He crawled out and balanced on the sill, reaching above his head. It was almost in reach and for the hundredth time he cursed being so damn short. Just hoped it was sturdy. If not, well he’d know soon enough. Thank god for healing factor.

He jumped, held his breath as he hung from the eaves then released it as the gutter held firm. He swung to the side hard twice then used the momentum to fling his right leg up and onto the roof. He hauled himself up easily and turned to look down over 50 feet to the ground.

“Damn I’m good,” he said in satisfaction and dusted his hands off.

“That you are,” drawled a voice. He spun around with a growl, claws tearing through his flesh. Rogue. Alriiiiiiiiiiiight. “Good so see you’re upright.”

“Huh?” he slid the claws back in, no point in freaking her out. Chicks tended to get a little tetchy about them.

“Normal guys are out for at least a day after I get a hold of them,” she grinned around the cigarette that dangled from her lips.

“Well,” he said, walking over to her. “I ain’t yer normal guy.” He grinned back.

Shit, she looked even better in the dark. Well, most girls did, but this one really did. The white streak in her hair and that ghost white face almost floated in the dark. He hadn’t known spooky was hot, but now he did.

She was wearing dark jeans, some sick knee high combat boots and a hoodie with the name of one of his favorite bands splashed across her chest. A chest he could clearly remember getting an eyeful of earlier. Wonder if she’s wearing black lace under that? Mmm, maybe red, he liked red. Or purple. Or nothing. Yeh, nothing.

“No shit, Claws.”

“Thanks, Streaks.” He could play this game. He was a goddamned chess master at girls.

She drew on her smoke and blew nice little rings at his face. “Rogue.”

He nodded. “Wolverine.” He sat down next to her, not too close, don’t want to seem desperate. Play it cool, Canadian lager cool.

“Yeh, I know, I got that from your head.” He shot her the eyebrow as he lit his cigarette. “When I touch someone I get a hit of their memories, sometimes a lot if I hold on for a while. Get a mutant’s powers too for a while.”

“That’s kinda cool.” Shit, she could take anyone else’s powers. That is so kick ass. “So, like what ya saw in my head?” He smirked at her.

“Hmmm,” she said noncommittally. Damn, she could play it cool too. He wasn’t going to rise to the bait, push for an answer, even if he was kinda dying to know. “Your senses are kinda interesting. But not fun. I couldn’t hardly concentrate, the smell from my bike was choking me.” She pulled at face at the memory.

“Check if yer burning oil or maybe ya get a longer exhaust pipe, helps clear the smell away. But if ya ride yer always gonna get a stink.” He examined the cherry of his smoke and thought back wistfully on the bike he’d rebuilt from scrap a couple of years ago.

“You know bikes?” Rogue voice piqued in curiosity.

“Hell yeh, I had a sweet ’72 shovelhead I got from a junkyard. Took 7 months but I got her working.” God he missed that bike.

“Nice,” she said appreciatively. “Where is it? Did you bring it with you?” Fuck, he could hear the excitement in her voice. She wanted a ride. He'd give her one, damn straight.

He sighed in genuine regret. “No dice. Wrapped it around the bumper of an Escalade at 70 few months back.” She sighed in regret too.

“So you heal? That why you’re not dead meat after a crash like that?”

Wolverine almost puffed out his chest with pride, but reminded himself he was supposed to play it cool. He was frosty. He was Mr. Sub-zero. “Yeh,” he said in a practiced, bored tone, like his own mutations wasn’t totally kickass too.

She opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when they both heard a noise from below, a hiss.

“Busted?” Wolverine whispered, but Rogue shook her head, tip-toed over to the roof’s edge and peered over. She looked over her should at Wolverine and grinned at him.

“Nah. Hey, I guess I owe you a smoke.” She reached unzipped her hoodie, hot damn another mesh shirt with bra all on display, too dark to tell the color. Crap. He'd been hoping for nothing. Maybe later.

She pulled out a joint she’d apparently been hiding and flicked it to him. “Later,” she said with a grin then walked over to the edge of the roof, stepped off into thin air, and plunged from sight.

Wolverine flung himself at the edge, too late to grab her. Face over the side he saw her fall straight into the arms of a big, shaggy looking blonde guy who caught her easily. The guy settled Rogue onto her feet before looking up at the roof. Seeing Wolverine’s face peering over the edge, Blondie flicked him the bird before running with Rogue’s hand in his for the property wall. He grabbed her by the waist and easily jumped them over the 10 feet barrier with ease. Another mutant, not one from Xavier’s that was for sure.

Fuck, she had a boyfriend.

Oh well. All’s fair in lust and war and Wolverine was an expert at both. Blondie better not get too comfortable.

School was almost tolerable the following day. First period Wolverine was once again in the last row closest to the window when Cyke showed up to loom menacingly over him. “I ain’t telling you every day, runt. Out of my seat!”

Wolverine sat up from where he’d been slouched over the desktop. “All yours, slim,” he said airily as he got up, revealing a masterpiece of realism and vulgarity scratched into the desktop by one razor sharp claw. The portrayal of the jock taking his girlie from behind was painfully realistic, both is scale and detail, right down to Jean’s bitch face.

He should’ve been a damned artist, if he did say so himself.

Naturally, the shoving started quick and furious. Desks toppled over with Wolverine on top for a moment before Jean got a handful of his hair and with a loud screech she yanked hard and pulled him off her boyfriend. At that moment Dr. McCoy came in to start class, only to be met with the sight of the head cheerleader and quarterback ganging up on the new student. McCoy didn’t take kindly to sneaks or ambushes and growled warningly as he pushed through the gaggle of students to separate the combatants, just a tad too late to prevent Cyke from punching Wolverine right in the nose with a sick crunch. With a roar that parted the spectators like startled birds, the teacher reached down to grab the prom king and queen by their arms and pulled them off the boy.

As he sorted out shouted explanations from the three his eye fell on the spectacularly pornographic etching on the desk. “What is that, Mr. Summers?”

“He did it, that little motherfucker!” Cyke shouted, lunging again at Wolverine, who leaned casually against a desk and reset his nose with a gross cracking nose that drew impressed murmurs from the other kids.

“Language, Mr. Summers! That’s your desk, and why would this young man, who doesn’t even know you or Miss Grey, do that? And it's signed.” He gestured to the John Handcock Cyke had been kind enough to burn into the desk surface the day before. The couple spluttered half-formed explanations that fell apart under the teacher’s withering stare. “I think you two can come with me to Principal Darkholme’s office.” He pushed the two furious populars ahead of him towards the door. “Vandalism and fighting? I expected better from both of you,” he said severely before he looked over his shoulder. “Class, start reading chapter 11, I’ll be back in 5 minutes. No funny business.”

Wolverine settled smugly into his reclaimed seat behind the desecrated desk and was about to rest his cheek on Red’s artfully detailed tits for a snooze when McCoy said, “Young man, I suggest you go see the nurse.” Wolverine grinned, fuck yeh free period. He waited until McCoy turned the corner, dragging the unluckiest fucks at the school with him, and then headed in the opposite direction of the nurse’s office. Time for a quick smoke at the least, maybe a leisurely stroll around campus, stretch the old legs. Not a bad start to the morning.

The rest of the day was cake. With Avalanche and Bezerker at his back, he wasn't surprised to see a few others would be toughs show up behind the gym at lunch. They’d heard how he’d gotten in a fight, vandalized school property in front of a class full of kids, and managed to make the Bully and Bitch take the fall for all of it.

Wolverine was their kind of fuck-up, and they practically welcomed him with open arms. One interesting firebug had some Everclear and lit their smokes with his bare fingers. A silver-haired kid passed around his meds like candy, which Wolverine declined. Even if he wanted it, it would've passed through his system too quickly to be of use.

“YehIdon’tliketakingthisshitslowsmedownnotmythingIwasborntobefastyannowhatimean.”
Wolverine twisted one finger in his ear. This guy could seriously give Kitty a run for her money in the annoying department. Turned out the auctioneer chatter was the least of his speed, as demonstrated when Zerker ran out of smokes and Speedy was back in a flash with a fresh pack from the 7-11 down the street. Literally, you didn’t even see the little fucker move, just a shift to the side and a stiff breeze. Stellar.

“Quicksilver, for the love of god, take your Adderall. You're killing me, man!” the firestarter grumbled. Rebuffed, the silver haired kid chugged a few with a shot of Clear.

Turned out they lived at the local “poor man’s Xavier’s” for wayward mutants stuck in the juvenile justice system. Pyro had accidentally, he swore on his lighter, ignited a few mailboxes…in front of the post office, which was next to the police station. Quicksilver had been busted for shoplifting, only caught because his favorite store had finally invested in decent surveillance equipment to slow down the digital tape enough to actually see the hyperkinetic kid boost a bunch of laptops for the third time in as many months. They’d come damn near being convicted of felonies and were both finishing up their probation terms at the Brotherhood halfway house before maybe earning a shot at getting into Xavier’s.

Wolverine had never been convicted of anything more than petty misdemeanors. The assault case had folded when the kid refused to swear out a statement. From how the guys described Brotherhood House he was glad he’d skipped there and gone directly to the swankier place. BH sounded like a total dump.

“Xavier tried to help out,” Avalanche volunteered. “When I was there last year he offered to put on a new roof and fix bunch of other shit, but Mr. Magnus wouldn’t take it. Said he didn’t want ‘charity’,” he sneered is disbelief. “Fuck, we’re all charity cases, so I don’t what his deal is.”

“The basketball court’s all fucked up too,” Pyro grumbled as he fashioned a dragon out of the flame in his hand. He wanted to try out for the team, but didn’t have a decent place to practice except the school gym and that place was crawling with jock dickheads after school.

Wolverine took another swig of Clear. “Ya wanna come over and shoot some hoops?”

Zerker pointed out, “Gotta get permission from Xavier to have visitors on campus.”

Wolverine shrugged, “I’ll just tell him I’m just trying to meet some people, ain’t that what the new kid is ‘supposed to do’?” and he sketched sarcastic air quotes.

“Yeah, he’ll think it’s some personal growth shit,” Lanche laughed and ribbed him.

Wolverine told Pyro and Silver he’d get permission, and they’d have a game soon. Two more trouble-maker pals in his little gang. It was too easy. These guys acted like no one gave them the damn time of day around here, so they practically pounced on his easy offers of booze and pick-up games.

Christ. Fucking sucks to be a mutant even in Mutant High apparently. No matter what school he went to there was always the loser clique, usually alright guys who just got a lot of shit for his idea of fun. Delinquents, best pals a guy like Wolverine could have.

The bus ride was uneventful, as Cyke and Jean were relegated to the nerd zone in the front row as a result of their “unacceptable behavior” as Darkholme had put it as she embarrassed them by marching the gloomy twoseom onto the bus and announced they had to sit there for the next week. The other kids sniggered behind their hands until the principal got off the bus, then burst into jeering laughter at the two sulking populars. Wolverine had also heard they both got Saturday detention for a month for trying to whoops his ass.

Occasionally, he caught their death glares from the mirror over the bus driver’s head and laughed heartily. All was right in his world.

That green haired girl plopped herself next to him in the back row and peppered him with questions about if he’d really tried to give Cyke a bone claw prostate exam in geography. The rumors were flying wild and wicked about the new kid, each one funnier than the last. He didn’t bother to correct her, content to let her gaze at him awestruck. She wasn’t half bad; those green eyes were something else, like neon.

Zerker was all grins as he watched Polaris throw herself at his new pal. That chick was a social leech of the first order, ready to hitch herself to any guy higher up the food chain than herself. She wasn’t a half-bad kisser and had great tits, he knew from experience, but too temperamental for his taste, tended to throw giant hissy-fits when he’d hooked up with her briefly if he so much as looked at another girl. High-maintenance, that one. He’d warn Wolverine later.

Avalanche was too busy staring a hole in the back of Kitty’s head two rows in front of him to pay attention to anything.

Boxing class was fucking brilliant. Nice long warm-up on the punching bag, bare-knuckles naturally, Wolverine didn’t practice with any pansy assed gloves. There were half a dozen other guys in there, including Lance and the guy who could turn metal who he’d seen the day before. Blue demon, some kid with red on black eyes and a pretty rad looking Under Armor suit that went covered everything but a couple of fingers and part of his face. Some blonde wonder kid who tried unsuccessfully to pin Wolverine with a cold ass stare, and a kid with a scrubby crew cut and a hillbilly accent.

Wolverine took on the heavy bag while Avalanche held it, working it from a couple of sides, attacking it with a ferocity that eventually lead a couple of the other guys to stop their workouts and watch him. He snarled and punched, threw a couple of elbows and knee strikes as Lance rocked back with the force of the bag shoved against him repeatedly.

“Wolverine, this is boxing, not mixed martial arts,” Angel, the instructor, reminded him.

The kid took a breather and swiped sweat from his face with a forearm. “Well, you don’t offer MMA do ya? Gotta make do.” Angel smiled in understanding; that was why he’d proposed this class to Xavier. Teenage boys needed an outlet for their natural aggression, otherwise they were libel to pick fights just to tussle and try to prove their manliness.

But this new kid…well, he took natural aggression to a new level. It was like he was trying to kill that bag with every blow. Not very effective though, a good way to tire out quickly when you tried to make every hit a knock-out. Not a lot of finesse, but definitely natural ability and toughness. He’d just have to hone it with some skills. And he most definitely would be wearing gloves in class from now on. Angel had heard about those claws.

He made the guys pair up and work with focus mitts, after insisting Wolverine tape up tightly and put on practice gloves like the other students. The guys turns jabbing at the padded targets their partner held up while calling for jabs, uppercuts, hooks, undercuts, etc. Angel paired up Wolverine with Bobby, one of the more technically skilled students in the class. Satisfied they were off to a good start, Angel walked around the room, checking the others and calling out punches to test their reflexes, timing, and technique.

“You hit like my grandmother,” the blonde kid with the ice blue eyes taunted Wolverine. Each time the smaller teen tried to throw a punch Blue pulled his hands and let the blow sail past the focus gloves and force Wolverine off balance. “Can’t you hit shit?” he whispered as Angel walked past.

Wolverine snarled, “I see a shit I’m about to hit.” He threw a punishing roundhouse at Blue’s face, only to have the kid twist to the side and put a focus mitt over his face, knocking him down to the mat.

“Eat floor, runt,” Blue sneered. Clearly one of Cyke’s buddies.

“Needs salt,” Wolverine rumbled as he pushed to his feet and shot claws through the gloves.

Angel was there in a moment, shoving between the two boys. “Bobby, I saw that. Hit the showers!” He looked over at the feral teen with 6 menacing bone spikes ruining some not-inexpensive gloves. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. This boy was going to be a “challenge” as Xavier would put it. Warren would say pain in the ass was more fitting. “Colossus, would you partner up with Wolverine? Armor up so I don’t have to mop the floor later.”

The massive black haired guy walked over to Wolverine, took off a focus mitt, and held out his hand. “I am Piotr, do not vorry about Iceman. He is all talk.” Wolverine looked the guy over. He was massive, heavily muscled, easily 6’6” and in no way built like a teenager, but the youthful face that looked like it had never seen a razor reassured him the new kid wasn’t facing a full grown man, or a professional bouncer.

Wolverine retracted his claws, tore the Velcro off his glove with his teeth, and shook the giant’s hand. “You know that dick?” He nodded to the locker room where Iceman had stalked.

“Da, ve play on the vootball team together. He is a goot tight end, but not vedy nice,” Piotr grinned conspiratorially at the smaller teen who barely came up to his chest.

“Yeh, what do you play? Lemme guess…” He looked over the massive kid in front of him. Christ, he was a big fucker. “Linebacker?”

A broad smile broke over the guy’s face. “Da, I like to hit. Der is no hockey here, so dis is next best thing.”

Wolverine liked this guy, even if he looked so clean cut he probably spit-shined his sneakers. “Ovechkin is my man,” he said casually, sussing this guy out. Sure enough, Piotr's face split into another grin as he started babbling about how he and Ovie were from the same city in Russia.

Wolverine saw where Colossus got his name; when the overgrown kid armored up for their drill he grew another 6 inches, easily, and looked to gain about 50 plus kilos in mass. Despite his massive size, which could have been intimidating, his genuine demeanor belied the nice guy beneathe the metal. The two boys spent the rest of the class trading focus drills and ragging each other over hockey. Canadian versus Russian. Wolverine could tell this conversation would continue over the course of hockey season.

When Warren blew the whistle they broke apart and Colossus slapped a hearty and huge metal hand on Wolverine’s shoulder in a comradely fashion. The force of the blow knocked the boy to his knees, but Piotr laughingly picked him up with an apology. “Sorry, I not know my own strength sometimes, da?”

“Da,” Wolverine grinned and when Piotr shifted back to his human form Wolverine landed a stinging slap on the other guys shoulder, making him wince. It probably would’ve had more impact if he hadn’t had to almost get on his tip-toes to do it, but whatever. Metal man was alright in his books.

Wolverine planned to head to his room to clean up. Never again would he shower in a communal locker room. Despite being proud, bordering on cocky, of his physical fitness and muscles, Wolverine never got over the humiliation of a few years ago when he’d been hounded mercilessly about his extremely hairy chest and legs after a forced gym class at the quasi-military academy he’d been court-ordered to at 13. That was why he’d refused Angel’s request to put on shorts for class and instead had boxed in jeans, t-shirt, and bare feet.

Wasn’t his fault his mutation carried with it a walloping dose of testosterone most NFL players would kill for. And he definitely he didn’t appreciate being called a hairy animal and beaten with bars of soap wrapped in towels by the upperclassmen when they’d cornered him in the shower room.

They were just pissed they barely had hair on their nuts, he knew that, but the memory still stung. Stupid fucks. He hadn’t made it any easier with the growling and shit. Thank god, he’d been pulled out of there shortly thereafter when the headmaster learned Wolverine was a mutant instead of one of the run-of-the-mill troublemakers that usually populated his little school.

Reflecting on the differences, Wolverine had to admit Xavier’s was starting to grow on him, but he’d be damned if he let anyone know that. It had only been a couple of day. Plenty of time for the weather to change.

He reached to open the gym door when it crashed open and nearly smacked him in the face. He caught it before he needed to reset his nose for the second time in a day, then bit back the snarl that had been about to burst from his lips.

“Shit, sorry I’m late Warren. I…uh…got hung up!” the Rogue panted, clearly having run here from wherever she’d been.

Up to no good, Wolverine’s sniffer told him. She smelled like weed and another guy. She was looking good, no check that, fucking righteous in that black and green skinsuit. Nice ass, verrrrrrrry nice. Wolverine craned his neck for a better look. Yup, that kind of ass he’d happily get expelled for.

“Sorry, Rogue, class is over.” Warren shook his head firmly at the girl even as an indulgent look settled over his face.

“C’moooooonnnnnn,” she whined. “It wasn’t my fault, Victor’s bike broke down and I had to walk. I’ll be early next time, swear to god!”

“Sorry, all the guys have gone.” Angel shook his head again.

“He’s here,” Rogue said and jerked her gloved hand over her shoulder at Wolverine. “C’mon, just 3 rounds. I need the practice. Pleeeeeeeease?” She batted her kohl-lined eyes at the winged man, who folded like a cheap hooker when punched in the gut by a fat guy with sores on his face.

“Alright. Wolverine, you up for sparring with Rogue?” At the delighted look on the boy’s face he added sternly, “Keep those claws in and full protective gear for both of you.”

Wolverine nodded briskly. Shit, he’d dip himself in adamantium if that was what it took to go a couple of rounds with Rogue. They suited up, mouthpieces, headgear, practice gloves. Wolverine didn’t even bother too pick up the groin protector, never needed it, and he wasn’t going to keep his junk away from Rogue in any fashion if he could help it.

He shadowboxed in the ring while Rogue warmed-up, enjoying the view of those tight legs covered in stretchy spandex as she bent, twisted, and lunged. He’d loosen her up good and proper, given the chance. But for now, just the foreplay, a little slap and tickle, show her what a macho fucker he was. He wouldn’t hurt her pretty little ass or that succulent face, especially not those dark lips that looked to be made for wrapping around his dick. He’d just man up and show her who the alpha was around here. Whoever Victor was, that dude would be a distant memory soon enough.

Finally she climbed into the ring, smacked his gloves with hers, grinned at him around her mouthpiece and went to her corner, bouncing easily on the balls of her feet.

Warren called out, “Ding ding!” and tried to smother a grin at the Wolverine. The new kid seriously had no idea what he’d signed up for.

Wolverine came out of his corner easily, almost swaggering, while Rogue bounced lightly on the balls of her feet to one side then another. He’d take it easy on her, no rough stuff because, after all, she was a girl. And if he could get tied up he’d get a feel for those curves barely hidden under that fucking-A skin suit. He watched in amusement as she circled around him, keeping her center of gravity tight and low. She almost looked like she knew what he was doing. He would bop her with a couple of lights jabs and let her get in whatever hits she could, then he get her against the ropes and press against her. He could already see her firm tits squashed against his chest.

WHAP! Lucky shot.

WHAP! Ok, two lucky shots.

Wolverine shook his head to clear away fuzziness that had unexpectedly appeared when she punched him twice in the face, right where the face guard didn’t cover. Sneaky girl.

“Keep your gloves up, Wolverine!” Warren called from ringside. No shit, bub. He brought them up to keep her from getting in another what have to have been a wild shot, ok a couple of wild shots. Pain bloomed in his side when she connected solidly with his kidney.

THUD!

Ow.

Ok, so she wasn’t playing around, didn’t mean he couldn’t. He wouldn’t strike hard, so point in hurting that pretty face and putting her off him, but he wasn’t going to let her take any more free shots. Time to knuckle up. He took a left jab at her face that she dodged, her torso swinging in a low arc to slide under his raised arm, and she nailed him in the gut.

“Oof!” He heard someone stifle a laugh and looked over his shoulder. The guys from class were back, leaning against the wall, along with some other kids and it appeared they were placing bets. Fuck. He couldn’t whale on her like he would a guy, but he definitely couldn’t let her win by going soft or he’d be right back to being the new pussy again. He was not interested in going backwards.

He faked her nicely with a pulled left hook and popped her in the face guard with a right cross. She skipped back neatly, as if it didn’t faze her. Her eyes narrowed at him.

“Don’t pull your punches,” Warren called. Shit, caught. But if he ever was going to nail Rogue then knocking her out cold would probably put a crimp in his sexual campaign.

“Yeh, don’t pull you punches,” Rogue mumbled around her mouth guard. “Hit me,” she taunted, and lowered her gloves, giving him the perfect opportunity. He gave her little more than a tap on the chin and was rewarded with a punishing roundhouse that rocked him to the side. He shook his head to clear it then all he saw was her glove coming right at him. She connected solidly with his nose and, yup, there it went again. Broken twice in a day. Great.

He grit his teeth hard and growled, then lunged forward and wrapped up her arms with his, pushing her into the ropes and pinning her with his chest. Woo wheee, nice curves and her abs pressed against his were rock hard. Hell yeh. She smelled fucking awesome, a little sweaty and that was all good, musky and hot. He was going to make her sweat some more.

“Alright, break it up!” Warren shouted. Rogue unwound from Wolverine and shoved him hard in the chest, pushing him back a few feet. He winked at her and moved forward again, dying to tie her up again, get a good feel. He wasn’t paying attention to anything but the bounce of her tits in that green and black skin suit and caught another blow to the side of the head, followed by two breathtakingly hard punches to his side. Catcalls were starting and he knew they were directed at him. He’d only managed to land a few weak shots and Rogue was using him for a punching bag and, damn, the girl could hit.

He heard Cyke’s voice over the babble, “Twenty bucks Rogue knocks him down first.” Well, we’d see about that. Without thinking, Wolverine threw a crushing left hook that caught her on the temple and followed it up with a bruiser to the face, catching her right where the faceguard didn’t cover. As her head rocked back to absorb the blow he increased his follow through, and she stumbled back and fell on her ass. Wolverine grinned as he heard Piotr claim his $20 from his QB then looked down at Rogue.

Oh shit, she was mad. He might have to rethink getting Rogue in the sack because the look she was giving him was as far removed from “come fuck me” as a girl could get. He leaned over and offered her a hand, which she took, and he pulled her up, her face still thunderous. “Hey, sor-“ he started, but the last part of the word was smashed back in his mouth as she landed an uppercut that slammed his teeth straight through his mouth guard and lifted him off his feet. The only thing he felt after that was his back slamming to the mat and a lot of laughter from the sidelines.

“Ding ding!” Warren shouted, ending the first round. Wolverine opened his eyes to see Rogue looking down at him, her mouth guard out.

“Nice hit, sugar,” she drawled with a grin down at him. It was her turn to offer a hand up, which he batted away, embarrassed. “Don’t be like that now, Wolverine,” she chastened. “I told you not to pull your punches. I’m not going to pull mine.”

He got up under his own power and spit his guard into his glove. “No shit,” he growled. At her continued smile he felt a little better, she wasn’t too mad. “Where’d you learn to hit like that?”

“Junior Golden Gloves for 2 years, sugar. That’s why I train with the guys.” He shook his head and laughed. She just kept surprising him and he liked it, a lot. Tough and could give as good as she got, just his speed. He walked to his corner where Avalanche appeared and handed him a water bottle.

“Dude, you better get serious,” he warned. “She put Iceman in the infirmary a few weeks ago because he was taking it light on her and she didn’t appreciate it. Knocked out two of his teeth.” Lanche nodded to his cousin, who was being coached by Angel in the opposite corner. “Seriously, I got $50 riding on you. Knock her block off. She can take it.”

“Yeh, she can,” Wolverine muttered appreciatively as he took in the rear view she presented as she leaned over the ropes to respond to her coach. He shoved his guard back in and pounded his gloves together, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited for the next round.

She could take it, huh? Well, then he’d give it to her and see just how much she could handle. He suspected a lot.

The second round was much more energetic, almost vicious. Wolverine had the brute strength to make almost every hit end it all, but Rogue was up on him in speed and technique as she weaved out of the way of many of his punches. They both gave and took some nasty hits. Wolverine’s kidneys were killing him and if it wasn’t for his healing he knew he’d piss blood for a week. Rogue had a split lip, and when she realized it she paid him back by hitting with a horrendous jab combination that split one of his eyebrows and blood streamed into his eye before the cut healed. She followed him around the ring as he backed away from her until his vision cleared, throwing everything at him but the kitchen sink. Crosses, undercuts that shoved his head down to be met with an uppercut that bowed him back into the turnbuckle.

He was backed into a corner food and proper now, but damned if he was going to let any girl, even this incredible one, get the better of him. He feinted left, then right, spun out of the corner and landed a punch to her ribs that almost folded her over his hand. He then pushed her into the corner and got in a few nice shots to her torso before Warren shouted the end of the round.

Wolverine backed off and took a deep breath, wondering if he’d taken it too far, actually hurt her and she was going to be put off him utterly now. Rogue pushed herself out of the turnbuckle, shoved her faceguard off roughly. Her black and silver hair snaked down and clung to her sweaty cheek.

He wanted to fist that hair in his hand and bend her neck back so he could bite her, not too hard.

She tried to get one of her gloves off but couldn’t. “Hang on, hang on,” Wolverine said and grabbed one wrist and ripped off the Velcro with his teeth. Her scent made a bitchin little uptick he liked a helluva lot.

Rogue pulled her hand out and tugged out her own mouth guard. “Nice combination. That hurt.”

“Sorry,” he rumbled and looked down. Shit shit shit. He didn’t want to hurt her, ok not much anyways.

“Nah, don’t be. No one ever wants to hit a girl.” He looked up and caught her amused expression. “Think it makes them a bad guy, but if I beat them it makes them a pansy.” She scrubbed at her mouth and inspected the blood on her hand from her cut lip. Suddenly, she reached out and swiped one uncovered finger down Wolverine’s cheek. He felt a tingle and a strange wave of…something…run through him at her touch. His eyes widened as the cut on her lip healed over and the bruise that had started to bloom under her eye faded.

“Ain’t that cheating?” he drawled. She winked and went to her corner.

“Man, you are never going to hear the end of this,” Lance said laughingly as he squirted water in Wolverine’s mouth, and he nodded to the small crowd that had gathered. Wolverine shrugged as if he didn’t care.

Actually, he did.

No guy wants to get beaten by a girl, especially not when he was supposed to be establishing himself as the chief motherfucker around here. But Wolverine didn’t want to beat a girl he really liked to a pulp to prove a point.

Fuck, he did like her. Not just in a get-in-her-pants way. Not good. Sooooooo very not good. What was he going to do now? No idea.

Third round started and Wolverine just decided to let what happened happen. If she went off him because of this fight then he’d get over it, he guessed.

She bounced out of her corner, fresh as a fucking daisy from the healing she’d lifted from him with her quick touch. For a second, Wolverine remembered the feel of her bare skin flicking across his skin. Suddenly he was painfully reminded how differently her touch could feel as she drove at him with a flurry of punches, a frisky combination designed to keep him off balance and on the defensive.

It would have worked on any other kid, except one who could heal. It still hurt and her strikes could disorient long enough to unbalance him, take him down. But he wasn’t going to let her.

He had to get on top and stay there, with her and this whole weird situation he’d found himself in since he got to Westchester. It was the only way he knew how to survive in the shitty system he was stuck in. If you’re not on top then you’re prey for better predators. And he would always be a predator of the first order.

He brought his arms up and covered his face with his gloves, tucking his elbows tightly to his ribs to take most of impact on his arms, pretty harmless. She was frustrated, he could tell from the way her breath turned ragged and her frustration spiked and left a nicely bitter scent he could almost taste. He put his head down and pushed against her, backing her away from him as she flailed fruitlessly against his defenses. He took advantage of her now wild shots and ducked under her arms and nailed Rogue once, twice in the stomach and she folded over for a moment before darting back from his reach. Now he was the one stalking prey, chasing her around the ring with his eyes as she skipped backwards with a wince. He walked confidently towards her head-on, show her he could take whatever she wanted to dish out. He’s eat it up and go for seconds if she didn’t take him out, so she better make every hit a killer from now on.

He rushed his approach, and she fell for his gambit, tried to duck under his arm to go for his kidneys again. Damn, she loved to work those, didn’t she? He knew she was going for what she thought was her safe bet, and he played it against her, pushed past and sent her stumbling into the ropes. She spun around with a hiss and threw a haymaker. He let it connect, but leaned to his side to lessen the impact against his cheek. Her momentum carried her past him again and he pounded twice more into her abs as she went past then connected with an uppercut that flung her head back on her neck.

Warren was biting his nails at this point. He knew if he called a stop to the match Rogue would freak out on him, she’d done it before when she got too rough on an opponent and he threw in the towel out of pity.

But this new kid, this Wolverine. Well Warren suspected the boy would probably not stop at yelling and the claws would make another appearance. But for Christ’s sake, he was going to get in an assload of trouble with Xavier if either one of them landed in the hospital, which seemed probable considering they were going at each other like Tyson and Holyfield. If either of them hit the mat again he’d call it then and there and the reaction of the loser be damned. Angel wasn’t going to lose his job over two hyped up kids turning sparring into a blood sport.

And the other kids, shit they were running bets like it was Fight Night in Las Vegas. He didn’t know who he would place his money on, if asked. He knew Rogue had the best technique and conditioning of any girl on campus and better than most of the boys too, but Wolverine was something he hadn’t seem before. Animal ferocity and endurance. Unnerving in the extreme.

The two teens were now going back and forth, landing and taking punishing hits that made the kids gathered at the apron wince, groan and cheer as their preferred fighter had the advantage and then fell back.

“Thirty seconds!” Warren shouted over the cheers and screams of the students. God, hurry up! Longest thirty seconds of his life, he swore.

At the shouted time the two combatants locked eyes. They both knew it was go time. Rogue charged forward, gloves cocked and ready, just as Wolverine stalked towards her ready to either knock her on her ass if the opportunity presented itself or take what he was sure was the hit of a lifetime if he read her swing wrong. She feinted to his left but he didn’t fall for it, keeping his clenched right fist tucked tightly to his side and against his ribs, cocked and ready to power up and out and drop her. She saw he saw her trick and backed off a bit, then threw her entire body into the right uppercut, powering up off her feet and lunging at Wolverine. At same moment, Wolverine unleashed his coiled strength and unloaded a jab from his waist that sped for her face like a bullet.

Warren closed his eyes, he couldn’t watch. A collective “OOOOOOOOO!” went through the gym as both blows connected and sound made everyone wince. Warren opened his eyes in time to watch both teens fall flat on their backs on the mat. Rogue’s eyes rolled up, only the whites showing. Wolverine’s face was slack and his arm was folded under him awkwardly. Double knock-the-fuck-out.

Angel groaned. He was so fired.

Wolverine sat in his room, flipping idly through a magazine and waiting for his dinner to show up. He just hoped Warren had taken him seriously when he told him to make sure he got two trays. Growing guy’s gotta eat, right? But he doubted Angel was in an accommodating mood after watching two students knock each others’ blocks off and a near riot start among the spectators when they couldn’t figure out how to settle the bets.

Well, at least Berzerker had cleaned up, being the only person to put money on a draw. His pockets were bulging with money and IOUs, and Cyke was stuck pulling his laundry duty for a week. Zerker now had extra time to sneak off to town to see his normal girl. That guy owned Wolverine a drink, for sure.

He laughed to himself as he remembered Angel flipping the fuck out. He knew the guy wasn’t really as mad as he acted, more relieved he wasn’t going to have to explain a trip to the ER to Xavier. But he’d had to act somewhat in charge of the situation after it had unraveled on his watch.

Whatever. It’s wasn’t like either Wolverine or Rogue had been seriously hurt, well at least not for more than 30 seconds.

Wolverine had come to first, naturally, his concussion dissipating in the wake of his mutation. Hell, he’d had more of those than he could remember, no biggie. Avalanche crouched over him, laughing his ass off, as the boy sat up and grunted at his friend to remove his gloves. Wolverine then scooted over to where Rogue was lying still out cold and swiped one finger down her neck.

Warren hovered over the unconscious girl in anxiety and sighed in relief when her eyelids fluttered. After a few seconds she opened them and saw Angel standing over her, his wings blocking out the gym lights and leaving a glow around him. “Did I die? Is this heaven?” Warren’s face fell as his mind started cataloging all the various brain injuries or cranial fracture she might have. Rogue lolled her head to one side and caught Wolverine kneeling next to her, a crooked smirk on his face. “Ok, it’s hell.”

They both burst out laughing, which riled Angel up to fever pitch. He shouted at them that his was not Fight Club and there was no way he was going to let them spar together ever, everrrrrrrr again. He claimed they were lucky he didn’t report them to Xavier.

Whatever, they rolled their eyes at each other, still chuckling as he flipped his shit some more and chased the squabbling spectators out of the gym. Then Angel ordered them on lock-down for the rest of the night and sent them to their rooms, like he was their mom or something. Meals would be brought up later.

While the fight had been hella fun, the walk back to his room was pretty great too, Wolverine thought. Rogue was still laughing herself silly, giggling infectiously. And she didn’t have one of those stupid, annoying girl giggles like “oh I’m so cute.” She had a real fine laugh, kinda throaty and sexy. He could definitely get used to hearing that. As they walked along to the fifth floor, where the “unsocialized” students, as Xavier put it, lived he wondered why she was up there. She seemed pretty damn social to him, or as least what passed for social in Wolverine’s head.

“Hey, why don’t I see you in school?” he asked, just now realizing she didn’t catch the shuttle with them in the mornings or afternoons.

“Didn’t you hear?” Rogue struck a mock fearsome pose, fingers curled in claws. “I’m verrrrrry dangerous!” she teased. "Not safe to share a room with me either, hence the Isolation Ward." She gestured to the stairs leading to the top floor.

“Yeh, yeh, very scary,” Wolverine scoffed. He wasn’t afraid of her at all, shit if anything she should be scared of him but she wasn’t, which was a first for sure. And he'd bunk with her anytime. “Seriously, why ain’t you in school?” he pressed.

It took him a moment to realize she’d stopped in her tracks and he had to turn around to look at her. “You don’t know?”

Wolverine looked at her, confused. “Know what?”

Rogue stepped closer to him and tugged off one of her short gloves with her teeth. Whoa, he’d have to try that sometime, hot. She held her hand close to his face, fingers about an inch from his cheek. “This thing I can do with my skin? I can’t turn it off. I suck out people’s life force.” He looked at her hand for a second, utterly unfazed by its proximity. Rogue eyed him speculatively; most people recoiled from her when they found out she could kill them with a touch.

Wolverine shrugged, “Well, that kinda sucks.”

Rogue chuckled; that was a complete understatement. “Totally.” Rogue slid her glove back on and Wolverine’s eye followed it thinking he’d like to hold her hand, but that was some pussy shit that he just didn’t do.

“So, what happens when you touch someone for like…I dunno longer than you did in the ring?” He was curious, but not afraid of her power. Although the day they met and she grabbed his neck had been a bitch to experience, it wasn't anything he didn't think he could handle. Hell, his mind had already come up with 6 different ways to work around it which included baby oil, scarves, and a trip to Adam and Eve’s.

It was Rogue’s turn to shrug as she pushed her sweaty black and silver hair away from her face. Wolverine leaned in and got a nice sniff of her natural scent, tinged with adrenalin from the fight. Yum. “If I touch a normal I can hurt them real bad, real fast. With mutants it takes a bit longer and then I take their mutation for a little while. The last normal I touched is still in the hospital.” Wolverine heard something a little like guilt, but a lot more like anger in her voice at that last sentence.

“How long ago was that?”

“Uh, I guess about 2 months.” Rogue’s eyes focused on the floor in front of her feet as they climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.

“That’s hardcore,” he said, impressed. So she could pack a punch in more ways than one, not a problem. “Did you touch them on purpose or by accident?” Sounded like she hadn’t appreciated that last normal’s touch at all, and the thought made his hackles rise.

“Duncan tried to kiss me, the big ape. He plays football with Cyke and was visiting one day. He thought I was lying about not being able to shut it off.” Her face flushed in anger at the memory.

“Fucking normals,” he growled. “Who lies about something like that? Sounds like the piece of shit deserved it,” he growled.

Rogue giggled again, that raspy chuckle that made Wolverine’s insides do funny things. She liked that weird growling thing he did, made him sound like a pissed off animal. Which made sense, what with his name. Duh.

“Yeh, he did.” She winked conspiratorially at him. “But don’t tell Xavier I said that, he thinks I’m all torn up over it. Besides, he had fucking horrible breath.” Ok, this girl was funny as well as tough.

Too soon Wolverine found them at his door. He invited to Rogue to come in and hang out for a while, but she informed it was a strict Institute no-no otherwise lots of little mutie babies sprouting wings, breathing fire, and sticking to the ceiling would be all over the place. “Xavier’s not stupid, unfortunately. Only time the opposite sex can be in your room is on the weekends during set hours. Always daylight. Always door open,” she made a rueful face as she pointed out the surveillance cameras at both ends of the hall that kept a close eye on 5th floor private rooms.

“Lemme guess, Angel and the other prison guards run around trying to keep everyone’s hands out of everyone’s else’s pants,” he offered.

“You’re funny,” Rogue punched him in the shoulder good naturedly. “Something like that, but plenty of us get up to no good regardless.” She had a saucy look in her eye and he gave her what he hoped was one right back, but it kinda felt like he was just staring at her.

Damn, he’d have to practice that in the mirror. Work on The Eyebrow too.

“Oh reeeeeally?” She had his curiosity piqued. “You get up to no good too?”

She wrinkled her nose at him, it was fucking adorable and Wolverine doesn’t even use that word. Fuck, he was turning into a pansy. “Maybe you’ll find out.” Then again.

Oh yeh, he was so money.

“Yeh?” He leaned closer to her, reeeeal close, in your face, get out of my personal space, do I need a restraining order, close. She smelled too damn tempting to resist and he took a sniff of her again, not even bothering to hide it.

“You just smelled me didn’t you?” she teased. “Do I stink?” She lifted a strand of her hair to her face, leaning a little closer to him. She knew what his senses we like, she had a bit of them right now, but she wasn’t really paying attention to anything except the face of the tough boy in front of her.

Wolverine leaned forward and twisted a silver lock around his finger. “Nah,” he tugged on the strand lightly. “You smell really fucking good.” Ok, voice went a little too low that time, quit trying so hard. You know she is feeling you!

“Mmmmmm.” She is soooo feeling you, man! Oh god, that was a nice noise. Makes me wanna--Shit! Calm down, dumbass! Whoops, too late.

Rogue stepped back from him and turned to walk to her room down the hall, that silver lock sliding from his fingers. “Later, Wolverine.” Agh, idiot, don’t let her walk away! Wait, don’t chase her! That’s desperate! Ok, cool, breathe, cool, Mr. Sub-Zero remember? Just go into your room. Just let her go, you’ll see her tomorrow. Yeh, tomorrow.

Wolverine flopped on his bed and slapped the magazine over his face. Craaaaaaap. He knew he could’ve handled that better, maybe gotten a little more from her if he’d just not frozen on the spot when she made that little purr in her throat. What the hell was that? Whatever it was, he was lucky she’d walked away when she did because he’s sprung a major case of public wood and THAT was never cool when you're trying to pretend you're not uber-interested in a girl. Worse than rocking a hard-on in math because at least then it was funny. Don’t let the girl see how awesome you think she is, rule number one.

Someone knocked at his door. Alright, she can’t stay away from the Wolvmeister! Knew it.

“Hey, man,” Lanche said as he pushed Wolverine’s door open with his shoulder, balancing two trays in his hands. “Room service,” he joked.

“Thanks Jeeves, just sling it on the table.” Wolverine muttered, trying to hide his appointment. He growled when Lance dug into one tray. “Hey, I asked for 2 trays! I’m fucking starving!”

“No one told me,” his friend shrugged and continued to shovel food into his mouth in the disgustingly efficient way only teenage boys have mastered. Wolverine supposed he’d live, but he’d better get a huge frigging breakfast or lives would be in jeopardy. The two boys traded insults over dinner, Lanche unsuccessful in making Wolverine feel at all embarrassed he got his bell rung by a girl.

“Dude, have you ever taken a hit from her?” Wolverine grilled him. The lanky kid, rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and he took that as a yes. “She hits like a fucking man, and you know it.”

“Yeh, well Cyke is gonna give you six kinds of shit, you know that right?”

“Whatever, that asshole should just try and see what happens,” he growled and shot out the claws and accidentally knocked his soda all over his desk.

“Watch where you point those things, you dumb shit!” Lanche bitched, blotting soda from his jeans.

Wolverine kicked his chair out from under him and grinned down at his buddy on the floor, “Fuck you, Rockslide.” The floor started to vibrate and the overhead lamp swayed ominously as Lanche narrowed his eyes up at Wolverine.

It wasn’t until there was a tremendous crash that someone went to investigate, only to find the two boys knocking stuff all over the place as they energetically wrestled with each other. McCoy stepped in just in time to keep Wolverine from crashing into, and perhaps through, his own bathroom door as Avalanche tackled him in the midsection.

Typical hyperactive teenager boy behavior, the blue mutant sighed as he pulled the two apart.

Fortunately the only real damage to the room was where Lance had tripped Wolverine and the other boy’s head had left a decent sized crater in the drywall. One of the more common repairs around the Institute, nothing to fuss about. Avalanche would take longer to recover from the world class Indian rug burn he’d gotten on both his arms. Stung like a motherfucker. The desk, chair, and dresser were righted under the watchful eye of Dr. McCoy and Wolverine’s mattress was moved back to the bed from where it had been thrown on the floor when the two boys had practiced body slamming each other.

Avalanche was then escorted out but not before he landed one last hard punch to his buddy’s arm and ran out the door with a laugh as Wolverine shouted “I’ll get you at breakfast, fuckface!”

Wolverine leaned out his window to enjoy a smoke before bed, looking over the grounds, this place wasn’t half bad at all. Good grub, nice room, decent assholes to hang out with. A definite improvement. Maybe he’d give it a go at not fucking up the good deal he seemed to have going here. He half-considered going up on the roof, maybe he’d catch Rogue up there again. But he decided against it, figured he’d pressed his luck enough for today. And he was tired as shit. Lance could lay a hurting on him when he put half a mind to it, especially tripping him up with that floor shaking shit. Drywall was a lot harder than you’d think. He could respect a guy like Avalanche.

Wolverine’d had enough action for one day and he was tired as all get out; taking two poundings in a row took a lot out of a growing boy. He’d worry about Rogue, Cyke and whatnot tomorrow. As he crawled into bed and shoved his pillow over his head he made a mental note to ask Xavier at breakfast if he could have the guys over for basketball. That would be fun.

The next few days were alright, but Wolverine wouldn’t jinx himself by admitting it out loud. The guys came over and they had a couple of good pick-up games, 3-on-3 until a couple of Institute geeks wanted to get in on the action then they went to 5-on-5 full court with Wolverine, Zerker, Lanche, Pyro, and Silver on one team and the rest of the freaks on the other. Colossus would have made a good center, but he was slow and fouled even when he didn’t mean to because he was so damn strong. Kurt, the blue demon kid, could play two positions at once by teleporting back and forth and catch his own passes. Cannonball was okay at dunks when he burst off from the ground, but he overshot the basket more often than he sunk one. Rogue played with that team, covered chin to toes in another wicked skin suit, this one red, oohhhhh yeh red, and gloves. She was pretty good, but fussed at how her gloves interfered with getting a good grip on the ball.

Wolverine resisted the urge to crack the requisite ball handling joke he was dying to make and waited. Sure enough Pyro opened his mouth which resulted in Rogue inbounding her pass right into his nuts. The game stopped while everyone collapsed into hysterics at Pyro’s “FUCK! ARRRRRGGGGGG!!!” The classics never got old.

Things at school were almost boring, as Cyke and Jean had been relegated to the front row of first period and his masterpiece of desk pornography had been removed from the room, so all he had was a blank slate to work his artistic magic on once he found the right inspiration. Language Arts was a snore until they started reading “Something Wicked this Way Comes” then for probably the first time in his life Wolverine actually paid attention in class. It must’ve freaked his teacher out because she seemed completely stunned when he’d raised his hand and asked about the symbolism of the tattooed man. It took her a good fifteen seconds to raise her jaw long enough to answer him.

Several heads swiveled around to stare at him. Who knew the Wolverine gave a shit about school? He shrugged, then put his head back down and pretended to go back to sleep. But really he was listening to the discussion going on around him. He was always looking for a new book to add to his little collection and the darkness of this one was appealing. Math was boring as always, although he did teach Quicksilver how to calculate the correct geometric angels to allow him to ricochet a rubber band off a book positioned just so, then a desk, and still zing Pyro in the back of the head.

Lunch was spent with the guys, slouching against the gym wall like it was their job. They were occasionally joined by a couple of girls, like Zerker’s normal squeeze, Quicksilver’s sister Scarlet, who thankfully was not blessed with a motormouth, and that slick looking Asian chick who wore too much yellow and appeared to have taken a shine to Pyro. Wolverine chased Polaris off after two days because she started clinging to him, fucking annoying.

One day Rogue showed up on her bike and joined them for a smoke. She was bored studying online at the Institute, Xavier’s insistence for hers' and others’ safety, but at least he let come and go as she pleased during the day as long as she got all her work done.

Zerker was passing around a fifth of Glen Fiddich, Mr. Big Bucks boozer since he’d cashed in after the fight and got a homeless guy to buy him enough alcohol to get them all shitty for a month. Good man.

The Institute boys were regaling the Brotherhood House inmates with a blow-by-blow and exaggerated retelling of the boxing match turned massacre. Wolverine and Rogue didn’t bother to correct them, it was too damn funny to hear it all over again especially with the embellishments. Apparently Wolverine had slashed her open with his claws before healing her, and then she put him in a chokehold between her thighs.

Well, that idea had merit, he thought to himself as he watched Rogue laugh. He was into the girl, way into her.

He leaned against her bike and watched her slug the hooch like it was water. After the bottle was done and they were all adequately tipsy enough to make it through the rest of the school day, Rogue walked over to her bike. Wuh-oh, look out. Wolverine caught her as she tripped and almost fell into him.

“Whoops!” she laughed as she grabbed his leather jacket for balance. “Seems I might be a bit drunk.”

“A bit,” Wolverine grinned. “I’ll drive ya back, no point in crashing a nice bike.” He slung one leg over the saddle and jerked his head at her.

“Well, aren’t you sweet. And here I thought you were worried about me,” she huffed playfully.

“Fuck that, you can take care of yourself. C’mon, get a leg over.” Oh yeh, get those legs over here, girl. He kicked started the engine as soon as he felt her thighs settle behind him and her arms wrap around his waist. Al-fucking-right.

He didn’t even bother to tell her to hang on, she knew what to do. Boy did she. Wolverine was loving the feel of those gloved hands slid around him, one on his waist and other higher on his chest. Focus dumbass, if you smear her all over the road that’ll be that. He corrected his turn and avoided slamming them into a car as he turned left onto the road off grounds. He jammed the throttle wide open and they tore away from the school, laughing at their stolen freedom.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for skipping?” she yelled in his ear over the wind whipping past them.

“Probably!” One a scale of behavioral issues that could get him in serious trouble, skipping class ranked so low on the scale as to barely register. What he was thinking, however, would probably get him bounced right to the federal pen if Xavier had been close enough to hear his thoughts.

She cat-called at his response and flung her head back in laughter as he revved the bike up to 60, her ebony and silver hair streaming behind her like a dark banner as he raced over the blacktop until the white lines blurred.

They spent the afternoon sitting by a lake on the far side of Xavier’s property talking about all sorts of shit. Normal kid stuff, music: movies, books they liked. She’d read Something Wicked a few months ago and had some cool ideas to share. He showed her how tough his claws were, because she asked, and chopped down a tree with them. Took a few minutes and made his hands hurt for a bit, but it was worth it when she whistled appreciatively. He asked her about other powers she’d absorbed and she was entertaining him with the time she had iced the downstairs corridor by accident after slapping Iceman for being a dick. The other kids had a grand old time slipping and sliding to dinner while she got chewed up one side and down the other by Xavier for touching a student bare-handed.

“As if I meant to do it, like I wanted that tool in my head,” she snorted disdainfully. “I was just going to get a soda from the machine for like 2 seconds so why put my gloves on just to go down the hall?” Wolverine nodded in agreement, so unfair. He just wanted to watch her lips keep moving, they were kinda pouty and he liked they way one corner lifted in a sneer when she talked about people she didn’t like. She was just expounding on what a fuckhead Iceman was when the sound of “Two Joints” by Sublime startled them both.

“Oh, hang on.” Rogue dug into her pocket and fished out a cell phone. She flipped it open, then sighed at the name on the caller ID. She hit the reject button and flipped it shut but not quickly enough for Wolverine to miss the name on the screen.

“So, who’s Victor?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual voice.

She pulled a face, “Just some guy.”

“Shaggy from the other night?” he prodded. Don’t sound too interested, man. If she drops it, then you drop it. Got all the time in the world to wrangle her away from Vicky.

“Yeh, Victor used to live at BH, played offensive lineman at the school, but he split last year. We used to date.” She opened her phone again and turned it off. Wolverine kept the urge to do a little dance firmly in check.

“Used to? So what’s up with sneaking off with him the other night?” Slow, slooooooooow down dude, don’t start grilling her, you might not like the answers.

She sighed and leaned back, not answering, and laced her hands behind her head and closed her eyes. He appreciated the view from above; he could look all his fill now and not worry if she saw him staring. She’d unzipped her riding jacket and he could see the faded Pantera shirt she wore underneath, the neck ripped away from repeated washings, a bright green bra strap peeking through that he had an urge to pop.

He watched her breasts rise and fall with her breathing and thought that look like a damn good place to put his face for a taste or maybe just his head for a nap. She had nice long legs, really shapely and snugged real fine in those dark jeans. Biking boots with steel toes had been kicked off, and he was amused to see her nails were painted lime green and she had a cute little ring on one toe. His eyes swept up again, taking in the shiny wave of her black hair and one of those curious streaks that lay across her cheek and tickled her eyelashes, making her scrunch her nose at the sensation. One corner of her black lipsticked mouth quirked up as the silver hair brushed over her lips.

Without thinking he reached over and stroked it away with the tip of his finger. She opened one eye and looked up at him. “You should be more careful. I can hurt you.”

“Meh, I could hurt you too,” he said dismissively. A slight smile crooked the corner of her mouth, and she closed her eyes again.

“Sooooo…this Victor…” he trailed off, back again to the burning question at the front of his mind, subtlety be damned.

“He wants me to give him…us…another shot.” She eyes stayed closed but a small frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“You gonna?” He tried to stay cool, relaxed, unfazed but he wasn’t at all.

Rogue sat up, her eyes lashed over at him and one of her eyebrows ticked up. “Why do you care?” She was teasing him! She knew, crap. Guess he wasn’t as cool as he thought, but she made it damn difficult to act disinterested.

Too late to fake it now, he supposed, so he did what he usually did and took the chance, a little nervous despite the lessening risk he’d sensed over the last few days with her increasing interest. Wolverine leaned over a little and twirled another one of her streaks around his fingers and tugged. “I don’t,” he said with a smirk.

“Liar,” she murmured, her eyes glinting with mischief and something a bit more.

Hell yeh, now there was that teasing little spike in her scent he’d been looking for since he’d first laid eyes on her. “Yup.” He leaned smoothly into last couple of inches to her face and kissed her swiftly, but with confidence, and teased her lower lip with his tongue for a moment before pulling back to assess the results. No burn, no sting, just a wave of something that flowed through him for a moment and took his breath away and his stomach started doing some crazy jumping. And she was looking pretty damn spectacular this close up. Those dark eyes rimmed with liner were deep and heated, zapping his senses to life like a shot of espresso.

“Brave boy, that could have fucked you up if I wasn’t wearing lipstick,” she playfully scolded, but she didn’t move away.

“Maybe I got a death wish,” he growled. Christ, she was making him hot, that sexy little Southern twang and those killer eyes and even more deadly lips would probably be worth some pain…ok most definitely worth a LOT of pain.

She moved a little nearer and he felt her gloved hand push open his jacket to rest on his chest, but she wasn’t pushing him away but fisted her hand in his t-shirt and pulled him closer. “You better hold real still, or you aren’t going to be awake to enjoy it,” she warned. He stilled but kept his eyes open as she kissed him again, this time taking charge. She bit his lower lip and he made a weird noise he wasn't familiar with, a funky rumble that started in his chest. When she slicked her lips across his again he parted his mouth and snaked his tongue out to tangle with hers, earning him a sweet little noise in the back of her throat.

Ouch. He winced, but didn’t pull away, she tasted too fucking good. He sucked on her tongue and tasted the booze and smoke. His favorite flavors along with a taste of…ok, that kinda hurt. Ow. OOOWWWWWW! FUCK!

The both pulled back, gasping for air. “Told you to hold still, your nose touched me.” She wrinkled hers at him again.

He flopped down on his back on the grass and was thrilled when she sank next to him and snuck her face to his shoulder like that particular spot had her name on it. “Totally worth it!” he said, unable to keep the shit-eating grin off his face or out of his voice.

“You’re good for my ego, Wolverine,” she laughed and he joined her, in no hurry at the moment, just enjoying the feel of her head against his chest, his hand on her hip. She said she could hear his heartbeat then giggled when it sped up. That throaty laugh was slow and sweet as molasses; he could almost taste it on his own tongue.

Usually, as soon as a chick had showed interest in him he’d do everything in his power to ran through all the bases as quickly as possible and slide right into home and in between her legs without too much preliminary bullshit. But he didn’t feel like hurrying at the moment, Rogue seemed to be totally chill with him, so he would take his time. That was a first for sure. He figured trying to get a leg over on a girl with skin that could knock him on his ass if he tried to cop feel would need some additional thought…and preparation…and some jerk off fantasies while he planned. Heh, this anticipation thing might not be all bad. Having Rogue snuggled against his chest with one of her legs thrown over his was pretty fucking awesome.

All was good for a moment in Wolverine’s world.

Except for, grr. He had to ask, didn’t want to because it might fuck a perfectly nice sensation she was drawing out of him as her fingers teased his chest through his shirt. But the image of her with her hand in that blonde motherfucker’s was gnawing at his gut. If had to put a name to it, it could have been jealousy, but the Wolverine didn’t get jealous. Maybe it was just upset stomach or some shit, he hadn’t had lunch. What was he thinking about? Oh yeh…crap.

“Uh…so…this Victor guy.”

“Yeh,” she sighed. No, no, sighing bad. Very bad. Do not like bad sighs. “Guess I’ll tell him to forget it.” She lifted her head and grinned at him, then winked. Christ! He was about to have probably his first every TALK with a girl, which was practically causing him an ulcer, and she was fucking with him!

“You little-“and Wolverine dug his fingers into her sides. She screamed with laughter. Ah ha ticklish! Time to be evil. She squirmed in a serpentine fashion against him as she tried to get away, but he just crushed her to him. Wiggling good, wiggling very good. So was her panting like that. Hell yeeeeeehhhh.

After he’d extracted a scream of submission from Rogue he repaid her with a rough kiss, thrusting his tongue in her mouth that made her moan and grab his hair. She made him dizzy in a couple of ways, all new and right fucking on. They spent the rest of the day, until well after the sun went down, curled around each other and talking shit about any and everything and a bunch of nothing. They missed dinner, but Rogue managed to wheedle a few sandwiches from the cook, which they scarfed down on the patio before she told him goodnight because she had to go study in the library. Wolverine let her go, although he had to cram down the urge to follow her and corner her up against a remote stack.

Stalking wasn’t sexy, he reminded himself.

He walked through the mansion, hands crammed in his pockets, as he made a distinct effort to keep a smirk off his face. He popped his head into the rec room to say hi to Lanche and Zerker who were cursing loudly at a basketball game on tv. They invited him to join them, but he made an excuse to go to his room.

No fooling those fuckers, he knew it when he heard their distinct sniggering as walked away and speculations about what he and Rogue had been up to when they’d ridden away on her bike earlier that day. He shrugged. Nothing those bozos said could ruffle him.

Whatever. He was cool, frosty, Mr. Sub-zero.

He was fucking whistling. He hoped no one heard.

The weekend was finally there. Christ, he couldn’t believe what all had happened in just one week, one that had started of fucking awful and ended on such a stellar high note. He slept in late as hell, a rare treat, then checked out the woodshop class he’d signed up for. Lots of saws, dangerous power tools, buzzing and screaming. Fuck yeh, nothing like some grinding and sawdust to kick the old testosterone up a few notches. He had some ripsaw fun tearing through some 4x4s for the new boathouse the Institute was building. After he got bored with that he checked out the other side of the shop, away from the other guys, and found what looked like some old-fashioned hand tools. He didn’t know what they were for, so he picked up some scrap wood and started experimenting.

There was something satisfying about shaving away soft pine in lazy curls with the various planes. Almost soothing, very relaxing the way different textures and shapes appeared under his hands with the carving tools. He didn’t have any particular plans to make anything special; it was nice just to play around and goof with the tools and learn their uses. Maybe he’d see if he could come in here later in the week, not wait until next Saturday. Something to do at night besides sneak out for a smoke or sit around and think about Rogue.

That girl. Hmm. She occupied a lot of his waking thoughts, but that was alright. Whenever she crossed his mind he felt a funny shiver go through his body, a pleasurable little flutter against his chest. A girl had never made him feeling anything other than hard, and make no mistake. They’d just been girls. Cute too look at, fun to touch, difficult to get rid off once the fun was done. Rogue fired him up pretty damn easy, but she was also a lot of fun to talk to and chill out with. Almost like goofing off with one of the guys, but a lot more enjoyable than shooting the shit with Lanche of Zerker. And she was really soft in some places and hard as nails in other ways. A new, but addictive, mixture, one he planned on getting a fix of on a regular basis.

After killing part of the afternoon in the woodshop, during which he formulated an idea bout building a table for his room, something better than that standard issue desk, he headed back to his room. From 6-10pm was open room hours, and he planned to pop into Rogue’s room and see what they could get up to with a little privacy. Open doors be damned, not many kids lived up on the fifth floor, and he’d already figured if her room was similar to his, the bed was easily hidden behind the door when open. As he showered and scrubbed his face, the image of her wound around him on her bed danced in front of his eyes. He hadn’t had a chance to go to town and get anything he’d need to get down and dirty with her, no condoms or other safety precautions. But he was totally cool with just kissing her carefully for a few hours and having her lay her head in that spot in the hollow of his shoulder she’d staked out as one of her favorite places.

Wolverine looked in the mirror and briefly considered shaving, but Rogue had said she liked his stubble against her cheek. And he thought it made him look older, and that was good. Especially since he’d found out Rogue was 17, a year older than him. “Cougar” he’d called her, to which she laughed good naturedly and called him her boy toy. Being called a boy would’ve normally wound him up something fierce, but being called her anything was something nice, like he belonged somewhere and to someone. Never had that before, kinda felt pretty good. Unfamiliar, but right.

He ruffled up his hair until it fell into the casually disordered look he prefered, whipped a clean t-shirt of out his drawer and took a moment to check his nerves. As he reached the door, he turned around and rifled through his drawers until he found his leather gloves and slipped them on before he went down the hall to see her. He knocked on her partially open door, “Rogue?” He stuck his head in but didn’t see her.

“You must be the new loverboy,” a low voice growled to his left. Shoving the door open, Wolverine saw Blondie sitting on Rogue’s bed. He better get the fuck off of it if he wanted to keep body parts.

Wolverine snarled, “You’re Victor.” He made the other boy’s name sound like the worst fucking curse. Blondie shook her head, long blonde hair falling messily over his shoulders and back, and laughed.

“So Rouge told you about us,” he laughed darkly.

The hair stood up on the back of Wolverine’s neck. He did not like the way this asshole lingered over Rogue’s name or that goddamned “us”, like something he savored. He immediately disliked this guy, especially when he lifted himself from Rogue’s bed and walked across the room, flopped himself into the chair as casual as he belonged there, had been there many times before, and flung his big booted feet up on her desk. Victor probably around 18, but built like a fucking Mack truck. Six and a half feet tall, heavily muscled, sharp cheekbones and hawk nose. He had a nasty look on his face that matched Wolverine’s own scowl, but with a serious touch of malevolence. All in all, he looked like a fuckload of trouble.

Wolverine’s proprietary sense went to Defcon 4 “She told you to hit the bricks, bub,” he sneered. “I suggest you get to walking.” This guy was bad news, didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out. Despite a trace of anxiety at facing down with a guy this size, Wolverine stalked over to Rogue’s desk and roughly knocked Victor’s feet off it. “Get out.”

He expected the other guy to jump on him right then and there. Wolverine could smell the spike in the other boy’s testosterone and raw waves of aggression pouring out of him, filling the space. Instead, Victor simply smiled at Wolverine and flashed a disturbing glint of sharpened canine.

Feral mutant.

Wolverine’s hackles raised and he slid his claws out with a sickening slash. Victor merely cocked one eyebrow at the weapons now coming from the little runt’s hands. “Interesting,” he drawled. He moved as though to push long hair from his face then unfurled his hand and displayed his own set of razor sharp claws at the ends of each fingertip.

“Looks like we’re a good match,” he drawled.

“I ain’t had a fucking match since Superman died,” Wolverine growled. He tensed, any second that big motherfucker was going to swing on him and it would be on in a majorly bad way. For one brief second, Wolverine felt a little sad at the idea of being kicked out of the Institute for wrecking the place, then pushed it aside. The guy was in need of a no-joke-ass-whipping, and Wolverine was determined to make it hurt.

“Victor!” A voice sounded from the doorway. Logan turned his head briefly, still keeping Victor in his sightline, until he saw Rogue standing the doorway, her mouth open in a perfect O. Her surprised expression quickly morphed into fury and her mouth twisted. “I told you we're done! Get the fuck out!” Wolverine stamped down an overpowering desire to howl in triumph.

He settled for a smirk at the bigger kid then jerked his head at the door. “You heard the lady.” He moved his claws in a manner that clearly said Victor could walk through that door on his feet or be dragged out on 54 inches of agony. His choice. For another long moment, the tension between the two boys crackled then the blonde smoothed his expression and stood again.

Despite his massive size and the way he seemed to relish towering over the smaller teen, Wolverine didn’t back down and stayed at red alert. He had a feeling he’d be seeing old Vicky around, then they’d see who the bigger animal was. The taller boy lazed his way across the room like he had all the time in the world and didn’t have two seriously pissed off and dangerous mutants in front of him. He reached out one hand and drew a long nail down Rogue’s cheek as he passed. “I’ll see you soon, frail.”

Rogue gasped as if he’d slapped her and jerked her knee up lightning fast, nailing Victor right in the nuts. Before he had a chance to collapse she grabbed his jacket collar, dragged his head down, and threw him off balance. She levered him up and over her hip, and the boy landed flat on his back in the hallway, groaning and clutching at himself. Rogue stared down at him for a moment with a satisfied expression then turned and slammed the door behind and threw the lock.

Wolverine took in the furious look on her face and the way her breath heaved and waited for her to simmer down before he grinned at her. “Guess you don’t need me to fight your battles.” Although he’d never dealt with a chick as strong and tough as Rogue, it didn’t bother his male pride. In fact, he felt the exact opposite: impressed, turned-on, and proud. She was seriously hot shit from stem to stern and she was his.

She took a few more deep breaths, calming herself, before she said, “Thanks. I needed to deliver that message personally.” She seemed, suddenly, to turn self-conscious and ducked her head so she only looked at Wolverine through her silver streaks. “He wasn’t always like that.” It almost sounded like an apology, but he didn’t know if it was meant for him or herself. “I don’t know what he’s been doing for the last year, but it can’t have been anything good. I think he’s kind of gone off the deep end.”

Wolverine nodded, yup that guy definitely smelled a fishy, literally and otherwise. “Yeh, he doesn’t seem at all like the bad boy type you go for.”

She grinned at him truth, her embarrassment fading to be replaced with something else. “I don’t want to talk about Victor anymore. You came to see me?” There was that scent he’d become addicted to, the one that said Rogue wanted him to come a closer.

Wolverine smirked. Yeh, no more interest in talking about whatshisname. None. He crossed the room and stretched across her bed, tossing one arm open his side and crooking his fingers at her. “Just thought I’d see if you wanted to hang out with during open hours. Didn’t know there was a line.”

“Oh shut up,” she said as she crawled onto the bed next to him. Whatever else he was going to say was silenced by her artfully placed lips. She could make him dizzy any day, powers or no. They spent a good hour like that, just curled around each other, alternating between letting their hands wander in various directions, protected by their gloves, and carefully kissing. Nothing more than second base stuff, but Wolverine was in no hurry at all. He was learning a girl’s shape and curves in a way he’d never bothered to take the time before. He felt like Rogue was the only girl he’d ever touched and in a lot of ways she was.

He discovered nifty little secret spots on her body he didn’t even think existed. There was an area just behind and below her ear where a little vein pulsed and if he breathed on it just right she made a little jump. Apparently he had a soft spot for his forearms because when she kneaded them with her butter-soft lambskin gloves his nerves zinged like electricity. She had a sensitive stripe up the back of her neck that responded gorgeously when he stroked it. She took her time exploring his collarbone with her lips, taking time only to reapply her lipstick if they felt her sting. The ripple of her ribs under her shirt that lead up to the soft underside of her breast might be his favorite place on earth, especially when she sighed his name.

Definitely the best Saturday he could remember. At least until Warren knocked on the door and yelled through it, “You got 5 seconds to get decent people! Doors open, you know that!”

Wolverine didn’t need 5, all clothes had been in place the whole time which was obvious to Angel when the boy flung open the door a split second later. The boy gave him a look that, had it been possible, would have damned the winged man to the depths of hell. Warren resisted the urge to take a step back in the face of the ferocious kid, then remember he was the adult damnit! He looked over Wolverine’s head to see Rogue standing a little too casually by the window. Yeh right. He pushed the door open all the way. Ah ha. The bed was rumpled. He wasn’t stupid, all the kids used open hours to their advantage. But he wasn’t keen on the new kid with the piss poor attitude messing around with Rogue, the untouchable girl who couldn’t have much experience what with the deadly skin and all.

Like most adults, Warren was totally clueless. “Keep the door open,” he said gravely to both of them.

Rogue smiled brightly at him, “No problem. We were done anyways.” She laughed as Warren’s face fell. Wolverine resisted the urge to join in her amusement at Angel’s devastated expression and simply held out his hand to her. She took it and they headed down the hallway, grinning like mandmen.

After all, Xavier’s grounds were plenty big to get lost in. They stayed in a secluded corner of one of the gardens, talking about the other kids and bashing Warren. Wolverine sat with his back to a fruit tree and Rogue settled between his legs with her back pressed to his chest. They sat just like that, Wolverine with his face pressed to the back of her head taking in the silky feel of her hair and the clean scent laced with sandlewood that was all her. They spent time playing in turn with each other’s fingers, tracing glove seams and fiddling with the skin of each others' wrists peeking out from the leather until the dinner bell rang.

After dinner, Rogue went to the computer lab for a little while, had some homework to knock out before lights out. Wolverine figured he’d see if he would be allowed back in the woodshop. “Meet me on the roof at 1,” Rogue whispered in his ear before she sauntered away, her hips shifting from side to side in a way that drew his eyes right to them.

Hot damn, weekends rule. All thoughts of going to the woodshop vanished; he wouldn’t be able to concentrate after that inviting whisper. So he headed to the gym to work off the tension she’d stoked in him with that sassy command and was pleased to find Piotr and Lanche there. They took turns working the heavy bags and Piotr introduced Logan to the crazy bag, suspended by two cables from the floor and ceiling that made it jump about maniacally each time he hit it. The huge kid demonstrated how the crazy taught you how to duck and weave.

“Yeh, if you knew how to do that Rogue might not have K.O.ed you,” Lanche taunted, which earned him a swift punch in the shoulder that left his arm numb. Despite probable nerve damage he couldn’t give up hassling Wolverine for chasing his cousin. “You be careful, you hurt her and you’re gonna get eviscerated.”

Wolverine cocked an eyebrow at his buddy. “Ooooh, big word. You couldn’t lay a glove on me.” And to demonstrate, he danced around the ground shaker and slapped him on the back of the head a few times as the lanky boy flailed uselessly at him. Lanche finally managed to put his hand over Wolverine’s face and knock him to the mat.

“I ain’t talking about me, short-stack,” he jeered. “Rogue will kick your ass.”

Wolverine smirked from his prone position then kicked out one leg and swept Lanche’s out from underneath him. Piotr laughed heartily, reached down, and picked up both boys by the scruff of their necks then deposited them on their feet.

“I don’t think Rogue’s plans for my ass involve any kicking,” the dark haired boy leered at his friend.

“Ugh, too much info, man! That’s my cousin!” Lanche winced in disgust.

“You started it,” Piotr reminded the taller teen.

Wolverine and the Russian spent some time sparring, but no knock-down-drag-outs this time, and mostly worked on techniques Wolverine needed a lot of practice with. His out-an-out brawling style had its drawbacks, as the Russian was happy to point out.

“No, you cannot come to me like dat!” Piotr shouted and knocked the other teen’s arm away easily. “You come straight every time, this is why you lose!” Again, he easily dodged another swing. “You must learn to be sneaky, come from de side, da, da, very goot,” he encouraged as Wolverine feinted to one side, then swung from the other and connected with the solid block of muscle that passed for Colossus’ abdomen.

Despite Piotr’s massive size and strength he wasn’t built for longevity and had to take a break after a little while, but Wolverine was still raring to go. Lanche stepped up and he and Wolverine traded target drills until both were soaked with sweat and their concentration wavered. When Lanche accidentally, or maybe on purpose, missed the target glove and drilled Wolverine right in the face they called it quits. Wolverine considered for a moment returning the hit with some extra flavor on it but figured Lanche was allowed an occasional freebie simply for putting up with Wolverine catting after his cousin. And if her boyfriend knocked her cousin’s block off Rogue might not be thrilled.

It was almost 11pm by the time he got back to his room and, tired as he was, Wolverine was simultaneously energized at the thought of some alone time with Rogue on the roof. He took his time in the shower and allowed himself the pleasure of a quick wank to take the edge off. Wouldn’t do to embarrass himself and come like a kid in his pants, which had been a distinct possibility in Rogue’s bed earlier that day. She’d twisted her legs around his and it had been damn difficult to think of England when he felt her perky little ass snugged against his crotch.

He doodled with his hair for a long time in the mirror. Sometimes it took effort to get it to fall in that “I didn’t do a thing to it” look, but he was damned if he’d let anyone know it. No shaving, he was her hairy Wolf-man, grrrrowl. He caught the silly grin on his face in the mirror and quickly replaced it with a scowl. Better. Now the eyebrow, not too much, lower, lower, perfect. He winked at himself in the mirror, finally satisfied with his appearance and spent another few minutes dithering over what shirt to wear. Metallica, Black Sabbath, The Ramones. Decisions, decisions. He looked at the clock and realized he’d just spent more time picking out a shirt tonight than he’d spent considering his wardrobe in his entire life.

Shit, he was turning into a metro. He closed his eyes, rammed a fist into the drawer and blindly pulled over his head the first thing his fingers closed on. Simple black, good choice. Refusing to spend waste any more brain power on clothing he jumped into a pair of jean lying on the floor, only pausing to make sure they passed the sniff test and stomped on his combat boots. He looked at the clock again. Shit, 30 minutes. Nothing to do either. His magazines held no interest and he had nothing else to entertain himself with in the Spartan room, so he tossed open the window and smoked a few cigarettes before he remembered he had some hooch Zerker had slipped him the other day that he hadn’t cracked open yet.

Oh yeh, a little liquid courage. Not that he needed courage, no sir. He was the motherfucking Wolverine. He took a quick slug, which steadied his nerves amazingly, not that they needed steadying. No way. He just was bored waiting to meet Rogue, waiting to see what she’d be wearing and where she’d let him touch her this time.

Wait, touch! Heh heh. He rifled through his drawers again and almost cheered when he found his old leather biking gloves. Worn in and beaten to almost butter softness, he figured these would come in handy. He experimented with their texture on his own cheek, then his neck. Ohh, yeh. Fun times, these weekends. He’d have to think about getting some other gloves, Rogue might be into leather and some kinky shit, he was pretty sure she probably was, but it wouldn’t hurt to get something thinner so he could feel more of her than the leather afforded. His mind took off in a fanciful direction as he contemplated various fabrics and textures that could prove verrrry interesting. He lay down on the bed and indulged in a few creative mental shenanigans while drawing circles on his chest with his gloved hands, remembering the feel of Rogue own fingers tracing that same path earlier.

When he looked at the clock again he was late. Shit! He grabbed the booze, crammed his smokes in his back pocket and launched himself out the window, easily grabbing the gutter with his free hand and swinging himself up to land in a crouch. Ta-da, perfect dismount. He straightened up with a grin, eyes falling immediately on his hot-ass girl looking good enough to eat in a variety of ways with a ripped up red t-shirt that showed her bra in a few places and tight as hell jeans.

His face then fell immediately upon spying Lanche, Zerker, Silver, and Pyro. So much for an evening of touchy-feely. Unless she was THAT freaky. No way. He shook his head. The Wolverine did not share.

“You’re late, thought you’d stood me up,” Rogue chided smartly even as she stood up and walked over to give him a hug that pressed here hips to his in a delightful way.

“Didn’t know we’d have company,” he grumbled sourly before he nipped her shoulder lightly through her t-shirt.

“Don’t pout.” The Wolverine does not fucking pout! “I have an idea and I figured the rest of the guys would want in on it.” Her smile wasn’t sensual when she looked at the other boys but evilly mischievous and definitely hinted at something that would surely be on the Xavier naughty list.

“Hey, refreshments! Classy little shindig you got here,” Silver said as he tipped the bottle to his mouth. It was only then Wolverine realized the speedster had taken it when he wasn’t paying attention. He growled menacingly at the white haired freak who merely smirked at him before tossing the bottle to Zerker, who had the sense to take a nip before giving it back to his surly friend. After they’d all settled in comfortably on the roof, cigarettes lit and the magical appearance of another bottle, this one of Jagermeister, made its rounds, Rogue filled them in on her idea. Even Avalanche’s initial misgivings were swept away when visions of the full-blown enterprise danced in his head. Even though he’d had his fill of KP duty and detention as a result of his cousin’s idea of fun, he was sold in short order. By the time they’d finished both bottles and were all relatively hammered, they’d set down the ground rules and the brief list of things they needed.

“Pyro, you and Silver got more freedom at BH than we do around here,” Rouge noted, her voice slurring slightly. “You guys find the right place, ok?” They nodded as they slid over the roof’s edge to shimmy down the drainpipe that had been used since the opening of the Institute to get rule-breakers off the ground and away from prying eyes of the security cameras.

“Everyone else, bring at least 3 people with you. Mutants, normals, don’t matter as long as they keep their mouth fucking shut,” Wolverine reminded them as the other guys left. Keeping a tight lid on this shit was key to making it all work, and if it did they’d have a fuckload of fun and possibly make some serious bank in the process. It was closer to dawn than midnight and Rogue was sloshed, a little too much for anything more than a few caresses before she accidentally zapped him, then fell on top of him giggling when his knees when to jelly .

“Alright Livewire, bedtime,” Wolverine swung off the drain gutter into her bedroom window and caught her legs to pull her in before she dashed her brains against the back patio. Rogue complied easily with his ministrations as he guided her drunk, but cute ass, to the bed where she sprawled across it messily and waved her arms lazily in his general direction.

“C’mere,” she drawled and fuck if Wolverine was going to ignore a hot as hell chick gesturing him to get into bed with her. “You gotta leave before breakfast, go back to you roooooo” Rogue voice trailed off as she snuggled her face into his chest and carelessly threw a leg over his hips.

Wolverine almost groaned at the feel of her firm thigh pressed against him, but checked it and instead settled for wrapping one arm around her and cupping to her to his side, pleased to discover her butt fit his hand perfectly.

“You’re gonna get my assed kicked out of here, y’know,” he murmured into her hair, “Warren catches me in your room or Xavier finds out what we’re planning and I’m outta here.” He didn’t like the idea of leaving Xavier’s, fucking place had grown on him and it had only half to do with the girl running her gloved fingers along his arm in just the right way to make goosebump rise up.

“Nah, they’ll just ground you until you die,” she whispered, her voice falling off.

“Not sure I can die,” Wolverine teased. “Think they’ll have be writing lines when I’m so old I’m wearing diapers.”

Rogue shrugged lazily and burrowed further into his embrace. “If they kick you out I’ll just go with you.”

Wolverine liked the idea of hopping on her bike and taking off, but two teenagers with no high school diplomas, fucked up mutations, and no money wouldn’t get far in even the best scenario. But it was pretty fucking cool she’d said it anyway. “Ya mean that?” His was only answered with a soft snore.

He craned his neck, yup she was out like a light. Shit, she was even cute when she drooled, which she was doing right now on his shirt. Wolverine grinned up at the ceiling and settled himself more comfortably on her bed, thinking about their big plans.

Fuck it, go big or go home.

If they played it just right for even just a month or so they might have enough money to make a go of it if they got booted out of Xavier’s. Wolverine spent the remainder of the few hours left to the night fine-tuning Rogue’s proposal to them that evening, coming up with a few ideas himself he thought would perfect it and make it an almost irresistible proposition for anyone lucky enough to score an invite.

About an hour before breakfast, Rogue stirred and they started the morning in a way Wolverine wouldn’t mind doing every day for the rest of his life. Especially when Rogue straddled him with a sleepy smile, looking like untasted sin, that long black and silver hair floating down in disarray and her shirt all rucked up. He cured her hangover with a quick kiss to the small swath of skin that showed between her belt and shirt, then as he lay back to let the dizziness pass he teased her into fuller wakefulness with light sweeps of his gloved fingers as he memorized every inch of her stomach and sides.

“Mmmm, I could get used to that,” she sighed, leaning forward to shroud them both in the silky drape of her hair.

“Yeh?” He slid his hands around to trace the bumps and slope of her spin, slipping his hands under her shirt. “What about this?” He encountered her bra strap and, despite the gloves, managed to undo it with one hand, a little trick every horny teenage boy should know.

Rogue breathed into his hair at his temple and shit, was that her tongue? In his ear? Ohhhhhhh yehhhhhh.

“Like that too, sugar,” she whispered quietly, the feel of her breath and the nearness of her snapping at his nerve endings like a whip. Goddamn, she was something else, and she was making all sorts of little mutters in his ear that urged his blood south, then skyward to bring to life the mother of all morning wood. Wolverine slipped one hand from her back and traced it under her shirt to her front, grazing the side of one now uncovered breast. He growled, pleased by the little shudder Rogue gave at his touch.

Knock knock. “Rogue? You seen Wolverine?”

Warren.

FUCK YOU FUCKING FUCK!

Rogue cut her eyes at the window sharply and rolled off the Wolverine. “Whaaaaaat?” she called out in a crabby and passably sleepy voice, though definitely much heavier on the crabby.

“He’s not in his room,” came the irritated voice from the other side of the door.

She stalked over to the door, griping for Angel to hear, “I’m trying to sleep, Warren!”

No waiting for jack shit Wolverine jumped right out the window and braced himself for the fall. With any luck he’d only break a few bones and be able to crawl out of sight before Warren decided to poke his head out the window. No such luck, he landed right in the bushes. This would have been a good thing except they were holly bushes, so it was a very bad thing. He just managed to keep to himself the blood-curdling scream evoked by ten thousand needle sharp barbs burrowing into his flesh and settled for crawling under the bushes he’d just crashed through.

Hiding wasn’t his favorite way to handle confrontation, con-fucking-frontation was, but if it meant he avoided getting lectured by Warren, shit-canned by Xavier, or stuck on KP well then he’d be a fucking stealth master. The invisible man. He’d be a goddamn ninja if it kept Warren from catching him.

Besides it gave his body time to heal the scratches, the fractured wrist, and push out the needles that had managed to break off and embed in his skin. All three hundred and seventy eight of them. Wolverine learned it took precisely 17 minutes and 44 seconds. Educational night.

“Put down your name and who brought you at the top and sign the bottom,” Wolverine said roughly, shoving a piece of paper at the teen as he tried to enter. It was 2am the following Saturday morning and the abandoned warehouse 2 miles from Xavier’s on the shitty side of town was about to start hopping.

“What?” muttered the suspicious tanned boy with bleached hair and natural body armor plates covering his torso, shoulders, and upper arms.

“The contract,” Wolverine growled, again pushing it in the guy’s face.

The teen looked over at Zerker, who’d brought him, “What is this shit, Ray? He serious?” the kid laughed.

Zerker’s face morphed from his usually genial smile to a hard look that meant no dicking around. “You want in you agree to the contract and you fucking sign, Evan.” He poked his finger into the kid’s chest hard enough to make him back up a couple of steps, despite the natural armor covering most of his torso.

“Sign or get lost,” Wolverine snarled. He was getting better at this with each person who balked. So far only 1 guy had decided to walk away, but he had a feeling that toady looking bastard would be back soon. The rest had signed on the dotted line, too curious or pig-headed to back down.

“Seriously Spyke, sign it,” Zerker said firmly.

The boy lifted the page and read.

1. I will not talk about Mutant Underground to anyone. Not my mom, my sponsor, my priest, or God Almighty, no-fucking-one. If I do I can expect excruciatingly painful retribution from The House.

2. I will pay a $20 entrance fee to watch fights and an additional $30 fee to participate in a match, not including any bets I place. I will not piss and moan about the price.

3. I will not walk away after one win but must continue in the night’s tournament until I lose a match or win the night.

4. I am not a pussy, pussies sit on the sidelines, so I agree to fight at least one match a month.

5. I will not bitch, cry, or whine about injuries I sustain or money I lose.

6. I will not go to the police or the emergency room after a match. I agree to let The House render any necessary medical treatment.

7. I agree to full disclosure of any and all mutant abilities I have. (List your abilities on the back of this contract.)

8. I agree if a fight is designated as “no powers” I will compete without any mutant abilities whatsoever.

9. I agree if I am caught using any mutant ability in a “no powers” match I forfeit all previous winnings for the evening to The House and will be banned from Mutant Underground permanently, as will my sponsor.

10. I agree that if I lose a fight I am out of competition for the rest of the night. I will probably be too fucked up to continue anyway.

11. I agree that The House will run the betting pool, and I will not engage in side betting on my or other’s matches. If caught placing side bets I will be banned from Mutant Underground, as will my sponsor.

12. I agree that if I lose a match my opponent receives 50% of my previous winnings for the night, which is tracked by The House.

13. I will not bitch when I lose…and I will lose.

14. I understand that if I break any of the above rules, in addition to any financial penalties instituted, The House will administer a serious beat down on my stupid ass and the ass of the fuckhead who sponsored me for Mutant Underground.

“You’re shitting me,” Spyke said slowly as he raised his head from the paper and looked skeptically at his friend. Judging by the looks on their faces his Mohawked buddy and the new kid were clearly not joking.

Zerker handed Evan a pen. “Spyke, you want in on this, believe me.”

“What the fuck is a sponsor?” Spyke said as he scribbled on the bottom line.

“I’m yours, you idiot.” Zerker cuffed his friend in the arm. “I gotta vouch for your ass, and if you fuck up you and me both get held accountable.” The friendly look once again vanished from Zerker's face. Wolverine was impressed, the guy could look downright mean when he put half a mind to it. “So don’t fuck up.” Spyke nodded at his friend and shouldered past him to the interior of the warehouse.

“Not bad, not bad,” Rogue remarked as she passed by, pausing only to swat Wolverine on the ass. “You’ll make a decent bouncer yet.” He reached for her, but she dodged away from his grip laughing.

“We got a good number of people here now, we can start in a bit,” he pointed out.

He looked over the gaggle of kids who’d showed up, all sorts, most of the guys here to fight and most of the girls to gawk. All mutants. The ones from Xavier’s he was pretty damn sure wouldn’t blab or they’d all be in major trouble: Polaris, Colossus, Shadowcat, Gambit, Spyke and Jubilee. The Brotherhood House crew just looked like they were up for trouble in general and would have no interest in screwing this up if it turned out to be some up-to-no-good fun. Mimic, Sunfire, Psylocke, Bishop, Wolfsbane and Deadpool in addition to Silver and Pyro.

Rogue nodded to Pyro, who pushed shut the heavy rolling steel door, sealing them in the old warehouse Silver had found during the week. The kid had checked out half of town in a day and found this little gem near the river, all the nearby business closed and no one around for a half mile.

Sneaking the Institute kids out hadn’t been difficult once Lanche managed to bribe Shadowcat to phase them out of the mansion at 1am. She’d been surprisingly susceptible to his offer of a fifth of bourbon and a carton of smokes. Who knew the kitty cat had a naughty streak? Her willingness had thrilled Lanche to no end until he’d tried to hold her hand on the way over and she’d pushed away from him to walk with Polaris. Now she was back to ignoring him and the boy’s mood darkened swiftly.

Avalanche was itching for a fight and had volunteered to go first as soon as he met up with the others, i.e. The House: Rogue, Wolverine, Bezerker, Quicksilver, and Pyro. They would run the Mutant Underground and take in all door fees and a cut off the top of all bets placed. The fighters got to keep their winnings which were entry fee payouts and bets they chose to place, unless they lost and had to fork over half of their take to that point to whoever kicked their ass. Fair was fair.

“Alright, you signed your asses on the dotted line,” Rogue said, stepping to the loose circle of teenagers, “Now it’s time for the rules.”

“What the hell is up with all the rules? I’m here to fight!” a husky black kid with dreadlocks shouted.

“You’ll get your chance, Bishop,” Rogue said sharply. “You listen or you get out.” She stripped off her gloves and stood a little to close to the big kid for comfort. “Clear?” Wolverine knew the smile she gave the guy was not friendly at all, more like the way a shark looks right before it rips off your leg.

Bishops apparently wasn’t as stupid as he looked because he backed down a bit and nodded for her to continue.

“Only three rules,” Rogue said again, raising her voice and turning in a circle to look at everyone. “One, your opponent taps out it’s over. Two, no biting, everything else goes. Three, you get knocked on your ass three times you lose. Knockouts are fine, but we don’t require them because it’ll be hard to explain too many black eyes and busted teeth. We need to keep this shit under the radar. Got it?”

Nods all around, but Wolverine noticed a few people still looked nervous. Might as well get the ball rolling.

“Avalanche, put your money down,” he said, looking at his friend. Lanche grinned and threw a wad of bills on the floor at his feet. “Any takers?” he asked, looking over at the rest of the kids. Interestingly enough Jubilee looked itching for some action and started forward but was pushed aside by the kid with dreads who tossed down his money as well.

“Powers,” he stated firmly, getting up in Avalanche’s face.

“Fine with me.” The other boy grinned back darkly and cracked his knuckles.

Rogue scooped up the money and gave the combatants a minute to warm up.

“What’s this guy’s power?” Wolverine said to himself, flipping through the signed contracts to find Bishops stats on the back: absorb all forms of radiant or conductive energy that are directed towards him and to release that energy from his hands.

WTF?

Zerker leaned over, “Means if me, Sunfire, Jubilee or someone else like us blasts him it doesn’t effect him. He just absorbs it and can fire back.” Zerker eyed Bishop speculatively, weighing the idea of fighting against a guy like that versus taking on someone with a power radically different from his own. He’d figure it out later when it was his turn to rumble.

“How’s that gonna help him against a guy like Avalanche?” Wolverine asked, eyeing the big black kid up and down.

“Dunno, maybe he just wants to break some bones and doesn’t care how,” Zerker speculated.

“I bet,” the surly teen muttered. He’d see what this Bishop was all about, maybe take him on later if he was still standing. Lanche was smaller than the other guy, but his bud had a mean streak he downplayed most of the time, except for now. Everything on Lanche’s face clearly said he was ready to dish out an ass whipping and it didn’t matter who he served it up to.

The fight started quick and dirty with Bishop trying to overpower his slighter opponent by rushing him and hitting Lanche low in the midsection as he wrapped his arms around his waist in a bear hug. Lanche struggled for a moment before his eyes rolled up in his head and Wolverine worried for second about an early tap out and quick end to the first match. Bad for business.

Then the ground rocked under everyone’s feet and kids stumbled against each other. The floor under Bishop shifted wildly, knocking him backward. He flailed his arms for balance and released Lanche, who dropped to a crouch and flashed an angry grimace, all teeth.

“Get ready for a ride on the concrete coaster!” Avalanche shouted then slammed one foot down. A crack appeared under his dirty sneaker and snaked across the floor to Bishop and split the ground under him, trapping one of his legs, and the bigger kid fell to the ground and knocked his head hard.

“One knock down!” Rogue yelled and the other teens erupted into cheers. As Bishop struggled to free his leg Silver shouted the odds and zipped around the room taking bets for the next knock down. Good to have a guy quick on his feet and fast enough to handle the action because Bishop was up quickly and circled Avalanche. He feinted to one side then lashed out one meaty hand to rock the Lanche’s head back. Colossus shouted encouragement at his boxing teammate to keep his guard up while Wolfsbane barked at Bishop to take his opponent down.

Bishop was kept off balance by the earth shaking and grew furious when he realized his powers were of little use to him against a kinetic attack like Avalanche’s. His powers were energy absorption and re-direction and there was nothing Lanche threw at him he could suck in and blast back. So Bishop reorganized his strategy and went for using his muscle to keep the slighter kid off balance, kicking at him as he threw a flurry of punches to back Lanche against the metal rails of the stairway to the upper level. They traded blows back and forth to the face and body. Lanche was getting the worse of it, although he managed to get away from the corner he’d been backed into and delivered a few punishing blows to Bishop’s kidneys and gut before the bigger kid grabbed his arm and shoved him back against the staircase rails.

Lanche head butted Bishop viciously, a bad move that made both of them shout in pain as they stumbled away from each other, shaking their heads to clear the stars. Lanche got in a nice kick to Bishop’s thigh, right in the muscle for a world class charley-horse and almost knocked him to the ground again, but the kid was well-conditioned. Bishop blew it off quickly and wrapped an arm around Avalanche’s waist and tried to ram him into one of the support beams holding up the stairs. Lanche managed to twist to the side just in time to avoid what would have been a crushing back injury and snaked out of Bishop’s grip, then grabbed the pole supporting the flight of stairs and swung around it lightning quick to slam both feet with Bishop’s back. The dreadlocked teen stumbled forward, but saved himself from another counted knock down when he grabbed the railing and rounded on Avalanche, cursing under his breath.

As Bishop threw a ferocious left cross at Lanche’s face the other boy leapt up and grabbed the rail above his head and launched himself in a swing to sail over it in a flip to come to rest on the landing above Bishop’s head. Appreciative whistles and shouts abounded as Avalanche waved to Bishop to come and get him. As the bigger kid raced up the stairs, Lanche clenched one fist and rolled his eyes back again, rocking the ground under the stairs. Metal shrieked and the stairs bucked as the ground under them rolled in a sinuous wave. Lanche jumped over the railing to land on his feet as the first flight of stairs tore free of its mooring and fell to the side, taking Bishop with them.

The dreadlocked kid pushed away from the collapsing metal frame and fell into a roll to avoid the debris showering down behind him. Alert to Bishop's distraction, Lanche leapt onto his back and wrapped one forearm around his opponent’s beefy throat. Bishop clawed at the grip around his neck and spun them around, trying to dislodge the teen on his back. The other kids, including Rogue and Wolverine, screamed encouragement. Avalanche’s eyes rolled back again, showing just the whites, as he bent and bowed the ground under the two of them and Bishop tripped over a rift in the ground that roiled under his feet and crashed face forward to the ground.

“Two knock downs!” Rogue screamed over the cacophony of rumbling earth and groaning metal as the warehouse shook around them. Bishop rolled over onto his back and squirmed to grind Avalanche into the floor beneath him, but it was too late. Lanche wrapped his legs around his adversary’s waist and repositioned his grip around Bishop’s throat until his adversary’s own eyes rolled back and the hand that had been scrabbling at his face fell tapped weakly at Lanche’s forearm as it ground into his windpipe.

“Winner!” Rogue shouted as Wolverine jumped in to pry Avalanche’s arms from around Bishop’s neck before he gave the guy brain damage. Lanche let go but shot his buddy a glare that screamed he was still raring to go.

“You’ll get your chance! You gotta keep fighting until you lose!” Wolverine shouted as he pulled Avalanche to his feet and slapped him on the back. His friend spared him a grimace before he stalked over to his Institute friends and took a bottled water from Zerker as he ripped his sweaty shirt over his head and wiped his face with it. Then he flung himself on the top of a crate and lit a smoke, breathing hard and glaring around him like he was dying for someone to look at him wrong so he could jump them.

Wolverine noticed Kitty hovering behind Avalanche. She looked like she wanted to say something, but kept starting back just when she was about to open her mouth. First time for everything. Avalanches sensed the girl hovering behind him and looked over his shoulder.

“What?” he barked aggressively. She drew back once more, shaking her head, and stayed in the shadows. But Wolverine saw, even in the half light of the swinging light bulbs, her eyes were locked on his friend’s bare back as the teen huffed angrily through his cigarette and rolled his neck on his shoulders. Wolverine smirked to himself.

Nothing like a brutal display of testosterone to get the ladies jumping.

Rogue called for the next two combatants and this time Jubilee and another Asian looking kid called Sunfire from BH stepped forward, both agreeing to a powers match. On paper they seemed pretty evenly matched, both unleashing plasma based discharges from their hands. Jubilee’s crackled and shrieked like fireworks while Sunfire’s blasted out in a stream of blue-white flames and the occasional concussive blast that made the spectators retreat to the stand against the wall.

This was the kind of fight where a lot of space was needed and Wolverine wondered if next week they could chance doing some of the fights outside. Otherwise the warehouse might crash down around them at some point. He figured Avalanche’s wild ride might have loosened the foundations. The scorch marks both Jubliee and Sunfire were leaving on the walls and floor attested that the notion of finding an outdoor space would be a wise option.

Sunfire could fly and used that to his advantage, raining down fire and blasts like searing rain, but Jubilee was lithe and fast, cartwheeling out of his range, flipping and spinning like a gymnast as he darted down at her from his airborne perch. As the match wore on Sunfire’s solar energy stores began to run low and he had to return to the ground to continue the fight, which Jubilee turned in her favor by pressing forward with a series of spinning kicks that sent her opposition scurrying backwards and relying on fending her off with a series of concussive blasts from his hands.

Above the screams and cheers of the others, Rogue informed Wolverine that Jubilee was a red belt in Wushu Kung Fu and only weeks away from her black belt exam. He could tell. The slick Asian chick with the short hair definitely had the one up on her opponent in terms of pure fighting skill.

The match carried on with each fighter knocking each other down twice then it was sudden death, and they both seemed to take it literally. It came to an end when Sunfire’s solar reserves ran out and he could no longer use his mutation to fend off his quicker and more agile opponent. Jubilee ended it with with a heel kick that crashed into Sunfire's midsection and folded him double over her leg before he fell to the ground one last time.

Money moved fast and furious among the the teens with Quicksilver in the midst of a hailstorm of betting slips and shouts over odds. The BH kids were pissed at being down 0-2 after the first couple of matches. Wolfsbane bowed up to fight Gambit, but there was a heated disagreement over powers or no.

The Xavier kid had never seen the attractive BH girl before, but he planned to see a lot more of her later, once he put her in her place. When Gambit winked condescendingly at the red haired lass and said, “No powers. Don wanna hurt da petit,” she cursed him and tried to scratch his face, which only made the Cajun chuckle and further infuriate her.

The Scottish beauty’s temper flamed as bright as her hair at his arrogant appraisal as his red on black eyes roamed boldly over her frame. It was only when she screeched some snide gossip about Gambit’s overcompensation for a small penis that the grin slid off the Cajun’s face and he sneeringly agreed to a mutation match.

Wolverine and Pyro grinned at each other over the shoulders of the two fighters they were barely managing to keep apart. This was going to be good. Silver was practically a blur as he ran back and forth between kids, bets placed faster than one could see.

“Maybe Gambit will kiss it and make it better after, mon petit,” Gambit taunted as he flicked a few charged cards at Wolfsbane, who snarled as she did a neat back handspring out of the way. He whistled appreciatively at her smooth execution then leered at her ass. His smug demeanor morphed into horror when the gorgeous redhead unexpectedly burst out of her clothes as she shape-shifted into a huge, snarling, russet furred wolf.

“Whoa! Non! Arrête!” the Cajun shouted as she leapt at him with a howl and latched her jaws into his shin. Rogue shouted “One knock down!” over the jeers of the crowd as Wolfsbane dragged Gambit across the floor by his leg, the thief scrabbling desperately at the concrete and screaming in French.

It took a few moments for Wolverine to decipher the boy’s hysterical shouts as Gambit’s cry of surrender. Pyro and Colossus pulled the Cajun away from the growling wolf, and Wolverine laughed as he patted Wolfsbane on the head in congratulation. Her tongue lolled out one side of her muzzle, and she gave a bark that sounded distinctly like derisive laughter. Gambit cursed fluently in embarrassment as he was razzed soundly by kids from both houses.

Pyro tossed a backpack behind a stack of crates and Wolfsbane followed it, reappearing a minute later dressed in a spare set of clothes. “Och, I hate ta ruin a good par o’ jeans, bah twas worth it ta see tha plonker on his arse,” she exclaimed to general hilarity.

By the end of the night most of the kids had fought with the exception of Rogue, Wolverine, Shadowcat, and the BH kid Deadpool. Avalanche had come out on top in the end, standing over Colossus's massive metal frame once the big man stumbled one last time on his slow, clumsy feet when his opponent split the ground under him.The big man just wasn't quick or agile enough to stay on his feet when terra firm was not longer firma.

Lanche practically screamed in triumph as he raised his arms over his head in victory. Kitty stayed in the shadows but Wolverine scented the uptick in her scent as Avalanche was named winner for the night. Heh heh, so predictable.

The big Russian gave his friend a huge grin as he clambered to his feet and almost, but not quiet, bowed Lanche's knees with a congratulatory slap on the shoulder after he's phased back from his metal form. The lanky earth shaker was riding so high on adrenalin he didn't feel a thing as he grinned in satisfaction and stalked back to his seat on the crate. Avalanche took a long pull of the red wine Gambit had brought to the event, dribbling the dark nectar down his chin and chest as he drank in the sweet taste of victory. Money had flown rapidly back and forth between BH and Xavier’s students, and The House scored a nice haul, about $90 for each of the six of them one the entry fees and bet skims alone.

Overall most people were happy, even the ones eliminated early or limping home hurriedly before the sun rose and they got busted for breaking curfew.

It had been an exciting night, invigorating in its violence and lawlessness and the giddiness at actually pulling it off.

Wolverine slung an arm around Rogue’s shoulder as they walked out of the warehouse, and he nuzzled her hair. “You’re hot when you run the matches. All bossy and in charge and shit,” he muttered into her hair. She smelled like sweat, smoke, and excitement. Primo stuff.

If it wasn’t so damn late Wolverine would have taken Rogue around the side of the warehouse and seen if he could work some more excitement out of her. As it was they were both bone tired and ready to hit the hay.

“Wait until you see me in a fight, sugar,” she murmured in that raspy Southern summer voice that melted in his ear as she leaned heavily against him, her eyes drooping.

“Can’t wait. Say, we should-“

“Hey Wolverine, old buddy, old pal!” Deadpool slapped a hard hand on the kid's shoulder. “I hear you’re a healer. That right, Sourpuss?”

Wolverine gave the bald teen with the scarred face a mean stare that typically generated piss down a pants leg. Either the kid was too dense to pick up the danger glaring at him or just to plain stupid as he grinned glibly at Wolverine.

“What of it, Wilson?”

“See you next week, Skunk Bear.” Deadpool skipped away from them humming a jaunty tune. As he turned the corner his voice floated back to them in song, “Yay yay fighty time fighty time blood blood bloooooooood.”

Rogu and Wolverine looked at each other, identical eyebrows disappearing into their respective hairlines.

“Think we should run psych tests next week?” Rogue asked.

Wolverine shrugged, the hand in his pocked fingering his and Rogue’s share of the profits for the night, enough for a trip to Adam and Eve’s.

“A few psychos might be good for business, darlin’.”

The next couple of days The House kids were busy scouting for a new place to fight and polishing the betting formulas, in addition to enforcing the “shut the fuck up” rule. They had to put the kibosh on quick to keep word from getting around and spoiling the fun. Wolverine had to corner that dumbass Bishop at school after 3rd period because he’d heard the guy jawing with some friends about a fight he’d been in that weekend. Surprised he’d shoot off his mouth after getting whooped up on. He came way too damn close to the truth for Wolverine’s comfort, so he communication the message in the form of 27 inches of razor sharp bone dancing in front of Bishop’s eyes to leave the advertising to the experts. That almost earned him a week’s detention from Darkholme, until Bishop said he’d just asked to see the claws. The principal gave them both appraising, and suspicious, looks before sending them on their way. Whew.

The House enforced the rules seriously, as they related to each person personally. Each teen who’d showed up the week before could not invite anyone to come to this week’s battle themself. Instead they had to give the name of the person they wanted in to The House and two members would look over the potential fighter first. Had to know who could keep their mouths shut and bring some money to the table. If the prospect checked out then Rogue or Wolverine would issue the invite, without exactly spelling out to the lucky guy or gal what they’d be in for if they did show up. And the importance of the sponsor taking responsibility for they kids who got invited was hammered home. No one wanted to get bounced because they trusted the wrong person, so selection was finicky and demanding.

For the following weekend an additional handful of teens would be joining Mutant Underground, and The House was kicking around the idea of setting up the matches themselves, which would allow them to set up odds in advance and also ensure paired up some interesting combinations.

“Seriously, two chicks whaling on each other is hot!” Pyro insisted. “Guys will throw money around just to see if they lose their shirts!” The other boys nodded vigorously.

Rogue eyed them with an amused expression on her face. “So predictable,” she sighed and scribbled the idea down in her notebook as they sat around the picnic table at lunch, when Rogue had driven to the school to meet up. “So you wouldn’t mind if I paired up Boom Boom and Jubilee?” she asked Pyro.

“Hell no, I don’t mind,” the flamethrower grinned. He’d noticed the Asian’s girl’s slick moves the week before and felt her appreciate eye on him a few times. He would definitely put money down her, hell burn it to ash and rub it all over her, anytime.

“Me and that Deadpool loon,” Wolverine noted, tapping his finger on her notes. He was more than ready to dust his knuckles and if that Wilson guy was begging for a taste he’d give it to him.

Silver grinned. “Man, that is going to be a hard one to call.” He rubbed his hands together in apparent delight, like could already feel the greenbacks in his fingers.

Wolverine bristled at the implication. “What you don’t think I can take him?” he growled around his cigarette. Maybe he should fight Silver instead, teach him a lesson.

“Hey hey hey,” the white haired speed demon soothed, “no offense, but he’s a healer too. No clue who would come out on top.” He shrugged.

“Really? But he’s got scars on his face.” He patted his own visage jokingly. “Me? Can’t hurt anything this fine.” A round of laughs circled the table, except for Pyro whose face creased.

“I guess it’s different than yours, I’ve seen him heal from some crazy shit. His chest is all sorts of fucked up.” Pyro pulled a face at the grotesque memory. “Last year he chopped off two fingers of his fingers on a dare. Fucking did it too! Then stuck them back on. The guy is seriously bent,” he warned.

“Lemme see his stats,” Wolverine snapped and Avalanche laid a creased sheet of paper in his hands. “Hmmm, regenerative healing factor, enhanced strength and reflexes, martial artist, expert…marksman?” He raised an eyebrow. “Guns?”

Pyro smiled uneasily at Wolverine. “Uh yeh, kinda why he’s at BH in the first place. Only reason he didn’t get a felony conviction for possession of an unregistered gun was his age. He’d converted it to fully automatic too. And he’s got these swords that-“

“Swords, eh?” Wolverine’s brow furrowed. Without thinking about it the claws slid slowly free and slipped past his face as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Oh no you don’t!” Rogue snapped. “There is no way!” She grabbed Wolverine’s hand and squeezed it tightly, mindful of the blades.

“And why not?” he demanded. No matter how fucking cool she was, the Wolverine would not let his woman (heh heh, he liked thinking of her as HIS) tell him what to do. Ok, maybe she could boss him a bit when they were alone, but not in front of the guys.

“Because A) I think spilling gallons of blood would freak everyone out and that would be the end of Underground.” Ok, she had a point, this wasn’t supposed to be a gore fest or sanctioned attempted murder, just some rough-and-tumble-fun. “And B) I would not be able to handle seeing your guts hanging out.” Wolverine flushed pleasantly at the earnest look on her face coupled with the passionate flash in her eye. A potent combination.

“AAAAAAWWWWWWWW!” the guys jeered. “Oh, isn’t that sweeeeeet?!” Lanche teased while Silver started to sing, “Wolvie and Roguey sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Oh shut up!” Rogue snapped, but she was inwardly pleased at the nod her boyfriend gave to her plea, which he quickly covered with a scowl as he jumped on the picnic table and grabbed the shirt collars of their taunting friends. Lunch devolved into a wrestling match that left the boys dusty and sweaty and Bezerker hanging from a tree by the waistband of his destroyed boxer shorts. Rogue watched indulgently from the sidelines, like a mother hen overseeing her wayward, rather clumsy, and sometimes stupid chicks.

Days and evenings ran together in a blur of boring school except for the Lit class and spending a little time each evening with Rogue. The library was a good place to curl around each other on a sofa in the back of the stacks and alternate between silly conversations and the occasional kiss and studying. Well, Rogue studied her coursework and Wolverine studied her. When she batted his hands away for the tenth time one evening and told him to go do something else to occupy his time or she was going to fall her calculus test he took the hint and headed for Angel’s office.

Wingman had the keys to the woodshop, which he tossed to Wolverine with a smile and said he was glad the boy was doing something ELSE with his hands. The smartass comment received a dirty look that only made him laugh as Wolverine slammed the door behind him. The teen spent the rest of the evening planning some timber into sweeping curves he knew would fit perfectly with the little project that had bloomed in his head.

All in all things were flowing along smoothly, with just the right amount of discord to keep him on his toes. A run-in with the Blob kid after school that resulted in a big-kid sized dent in the side of a school bus before Wolverine jumped on the back of Rogue’s bike and she raced them away. Darkholme swooped down just after their escape and gave Tubbo Saturday detention. Good times.

A meeting with Xavier on Wednesday after dinner to discuss his piss poor grades so far, except for his English class. The Professor managed to extract a half-hearted grunt of agreement from Wolverine that he would try harder, which the telepath didn’t believe for a moment. So he smoothed over the tense atmosphere with some platitudes about how many mutants at the Institute seemed to enjoy the vocational classes offered here more than the college prep work at Westchester High. He offered to let Wolverine sign up for any other classes he might wish to take at the Institute if he liked, and hinted that the place could use someone with the advance auto repair skills. There were quite a few cars in the garage for the staff and grounds crew that needed upkeep and other work.

“Yeh? How much?” Wolverine asked.

“Pardon?” Xavier asked, his smooth face belying none of the enjoyment he felt at the spike in the boy’s interest.

“How much you gonna pay me to work on your cars? I ain’t doing it for free.” Wolverine needed some extra money. Right now The House had to front most of their winning from the previous week for this week’s bets, just to cover them at the start of the night. They wouldn’t be able to start keeping their profits until after the next fight when they had reserves on hand. Wolverine made sure to keep his thoughts far away from all that in the presence of the Professor.

“Ah, well, you see we already provide you with room and board and-“ Xavier started to explain.

“Look, lots of other kids got money from their families or jobs or whatever. I came here with just my clothes and some books, and I’d like to have a little spending cash.” Wolverine buried the thought of that little trip to Adam and Eve’s deep in the back of his head and just let an idea of Rogue and something really sissy, like flowers, float to the top of his mind. Aha, Xavier caught that one. Good.

The bald man’s eyes sparked with understanding. Hmm, Wolverine and Rogue. Interesting. Xavier decided to reserve judgment on the potential pairing, the girl was already isolated enough because of her mutation. It would not do to make her feel even more of an outsider by interfering in any relationships she may form with other students. He did approve of the surprisingly gentle emotions Wolverine projected along with the girl’s face, which was unexpected but welcome considering the boy had arrived pulsing with negativity and latent hostility.

“Alright, Wolverine, I’ll make you a deal. If you can fix the groundskeeper’s truck, then we’ll talk about a fair wage for future work. No idea what the devil is wrong with it, but it’s driving Mr. Banks crazy.” The boy nodded in agreement and left the office. Xavier steepled his fingers under his chin, dwelling on the young feral. The boy had depths not yet tapped, only hinted at.

The following day at school Wolverine occupied himself with doodling through most of his classes a list of things that could be making the truck act so wonky. He’d taken it for a spin around the Institute grounds before lockdown the previous night and it was clear it was jacked up in several ways. He’d scope out the garage and see what tools and parts they had on hand, then make a list of what he’d need. Xavier was apparently Daddy Warbucks, so Wolverine figured the old man could spring for it.

After school he disappeared in the garage and started to tear apart the engine, spreading the parts around on a drop cloth. Only when he was unceremoniously yanked from under the chassis by a pair of hands on his trolley did he realize how much time had passed. He also realized he was looking up at that fucking jerkoff Cyke and his bitch faced cheerleader girlfriend. Great. He thought he’d gotten rid of these two.

“I know what you’re doing, Wolverine,” Cyke announced as he vainly attempted to loom menacingly over the smaller teen.

The boy didn’t even bother to stand, just sat up on the trolley and wiped his greasy hands across his shirt. “Fixing the engine, genius,” he sneered. He really had better things to do than deal with these assholes. He rolled his eyes and attempted to push himself back under the truck.

Cyke’s foot on the trolley kept him in place, “Not that, dickface.” He gave a nasty grin that made Wolverine want to bitchslap it right off his face.

“Mutant Underground?” Jean said haughtily as she sketched air quotes.

Wolverine snarled at the girl. He could not believe he ever thought she was hot, what a fucking bitch!

“Telepath,” the redhead said brightly as she tapped on finger to her temple. Crap, it was so simple none of them had thought of it. Wolverine didn’t need to be psychic to know these two were positively rolling in glee at pinning him with his dirty little secret.

“Xavier’s going to kick you out of here so hard your ass will bounce,” Cyke taunted.

“You and your little goth slut are both going to-“ Jean gasped. The two boys turned their heads to look at her just in time to watch her crumple to the ground on top of the engine’s grimy.

Rogue stood in her place, tugging on one glove and giving Cyke a tight, hard look that thrilled the darker teen to the core. “You’re late for dinner, sugar,” she said to Wolverine, her eyes never leaving the football hero’s distressed face.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he moved to her side to put an arm around her waist, “Just have to clean up the trash.” It was his turn to give Cyke the shank eye. The bigger teen positively quailed under their combined glares, and he stammered out threats until he found himself floating upside down in midair and his shirt flopped up over his face.

Wolverine turned to look at his woman, amused to see a huge grin play across her face as she turned her hand in front of her and the jock rotated again in the air, this time on his back with his head arched back to look at them upside down.

“Now what we have here,” Rogue drawled in that husky voice that zapped at Wolverine’s spine, “is an opportunity for you, Summers. You have two choices. You can decide not to tell Xavier EVER and I’ll let you and her” she prodded Jean rather roughly with her booted foot, and the redhead’s temple banged into a dirty alternator, “go. No harm, no foul. Orrrrrrrr,” she dragged out the word as Wolverine unsheathed his claws, drawing the eyes hidden behind the red shades to them, “Orrrrr I can drain you too and my man here can slice both your clothes off and leave you two in a compromising position on the garage floor where Angel will find you in 10 minutes.”

Cyke gave a strangled moan that mingled with an unimaginative string of curses. “Tick tock.” Rogue tapped an imaginary watch on her arm. “And I’ll know if you’re telling the truth, Quarterback,” she said sharply as she tapped her own temple in mockery of Jean. “Telepath.”

Hopelessly cornered and once again upside down, the blood rushing to his head and turning his face as red as his sunglasses, the jock knew when he was beat. “Fine, I won’t tell Xavier!” he spat. “But this isn’t over Wolverine!” Rogue rolled her eyes at the cliché.

“Fine, show up for Underground this weekend and we’ll settle this shit, Boy Scout,” Wolverine leaned down and snarled viciously in the jock’s face, making sure to spray him with spittle as he growled loudly. “Bring your money.” With that parting shot, Wolverine sheathed his claws and turned to Rogue. “C’mon babe, I’m starving.” She giggled and leaned into his shoulder as she released Summers to collapse on the floor in an ungainly heap.

Just as they opened the door to go into the house, Summer muttered under his breath, “Cunt.”

Wolverine paused, pulled away from Rogue, and said, “Hold on a sec.” Before she could say anything there was a crunching sound and Cyke landed on his ass, his glasses shattered and his hands over his eyes. Wolverine returned to Rogue and grabbed her hand, tugging her into the hallway as he kicked the door behind him.

“My knight in faded denim,” Rogue laughed uproariously and pretended to swoon.

“Damn right, darlin’,” the boy grinned as he bowed over her hand and pressed a swift kiss to her glove. Then he wrapped her arm around his and they strutted down the corridor to the cafeteria.

“Do you think this thing is going to blow up in our face?” Rogue asked, legs dangling over a work bench as Wolverine buried himself in the engine block.

“Have a little faith darlin’, I’ve been working on cars my whole life,” he muttered as he strained to tighten the power steering belt.

“Not that, stupid,” Rogue huffed with a laugh. “Y’know, M.U.” She wrapped a strand of silver around one finger contemplatively.

The boy lifted his head and gave her a grin, sharpened canines flashing. “At some point, probably. Law of averages.” He shrugged and lowered his head once more to inspect his work.

“How reassuring,” she grumbled. “I don’t want you or me to get kicked out of here.” She said it low and quiet, but he heard her.

Straightening up the teen wiped his greasy hands on a shop cloth, then threw it aside as he strode to his girlfriend and insinuated himself between her legs. “It was your idea,” he reminded her. Her face told him it was the wrong thing to say. “Darlin’, I don’t wanna get tossed either, but if we play our cards right and that happens we’ll have enough money to hit the road in style.” He wrapped his hands around her thighs and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“We?” Her lips quirked up at one corner and he couldn’t resist but place a swift kiss there, so quick all he felt was a pleasant little sizzle.

“Yeh, we, us, you and me.” Even as he wagged a finger back and forth between the two of them his nerve failed him a bit. He hadn’t meant to just blurt that out; maybe he was rushing her and was going freak her out. Aw crap, he really needed to learn to play it cool with this girl.

“That sounds real nice, sugar,” she murmured as she placed a careful kiss on his nose, then snugged her thighs around his hips. “Where you planning on taking me?” she wriggled her hips playfully as his hand cupped her ass and pulled her closer to him.

Whew. He was more relieved than he cared to show. For a second he was about to have a heart attack from nerves. “I dunno. Ever had anyplace special you always wanted to go?”

“Hmm, Alaska sounds nice, all that snow, mountains, open space.” She nuzzled his neck thought his t-shirt. “No one would think I’m weird for wearing gloves.”

“Hey,” Wolverine said, tipping her chin up with one artfully placed finger, “I’ll always think you’re weird, darlin’.”

She rewarded him with a giggle, a slap on his ass, and a promise to come by his room during open hours later that day after she finished her homework. They curled up on his bed and rested up for the upcoming fights in between sneaky caresses whenever Angel wasn’t poking his head through the open door to regard them suspiciously. They both planned to fight that night, had to if they wanted to follow their own rules and set up a good example for the rest of the participants. If you want to watch you have to fight. Plus they were both itching for a scrap even since Angel had temporarily banned sparring in boxing class, especially between the two of them.

Late that night Rogue and Wolverine met some of the others on the roof and jumped off while grabbing onto a part of Kitty, who phased them into the ground painlessly then back out of it. They took off in different directions to avoid the cameras panning the property, the locations of which Lanche and Rogue had memorized like the backs of their hands. Twenty-five minutes later they rendezvoused at Colossus' SUV he’d left in the school parking lot and sped across town. They arrived at the far end of the old warehouse district where several beat up card from the HB crew were already outside, edging the field The House had decided was as good a place as any for the more destructive fights.

As they strode into the warehouse the babble of voices increased as kids came towards them, waving money and shoving forward the new prospects: Toad, Silver’s sister Scarlet, Siryn, Boom Boom, Sunspot, and Cannonball. Only Sunspot seemed reluctant to sign the contract, but his sponsor took him to the side and after a couple of minutes of intense conversation the South American mutant, shuffled forward with an embarrassed grin and put his money down.

Bishop sidled up to Wolverine and confided, “Had to promise his parents wouldn’t find out and front him the entry fee for tonight.” Wolverine stifled a smirk. Whatever it takes to bring them in.

Rouge walked around with Silver, showing the revised betting system board to all and informing the fighters of their matches for the night. Betting slips changed hands and the excitement rose as the first round participants started warming up: Scarlet Witch, who seemed more than eager, and Cannonball in an agreed no-powers match.

“Hey Cannonballs!” Deadpool slapped the blonde teen on the shoulder, “I wanted to ask ya-“

“That’s Cannonball, asshole!” the southern boy snapped as he jerked away from the scarred teen’s hand. He knew way too much about this nutbag to want anything to do with him.

"Really? You sure? Because I kinda had a healthy does of respect for you before..."

“Can it, Wade. What do you want?”

“Ya ever get a sip of that Wild Irish Rose?” Deadpool waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cannonball edged back from the nutty kid.

“Introduce me to your friend Siryn.” He leaned around the Xavier kid to leer at the redheaded lass. “I’d like to get a hold of her Lucky Charms.”

“Ugh, fuck off!”

As the night wore one the fights got crazier and it was a good thing Kitty was studying to be pre-med because they needed it. Especially when Toad started to bleed from his ears when Siryn laid a sonic scream on him that almost flattened the spectators too. The fight between Boom Boom and Jubilee left the field outside nothing but scorched earth.

Avalanche decided to sit it out tonight and was enjoying counting up The House’s tally as he swigged from the Scotch Zerker was charging everyone else an arm and leg for. Kitty hovered behind him for a bit, but when it became clear he was ignoring her she went to stand with the others. Rogue called the fights while Wolverine policed the betting pool as that Toad guy and Deadpool seemed up to no good.

The action was fast and furious, people fell and rose victorious, bodies folded and others stood with arms raised in victory, and the noise of the excited crowd rose ever more as the night wore on. Soon it was time for the final first round of fights to start between Deadpool and Wolverine and Rogue and Boom Boom. The boys had to have a powers match as neither of them had the ability to turn off their healing mutations or enhanced strength.

Rogue agreed readily to the blonde bombshell’s request of a square tussle, understanding not many people jumped at the idea of potentially having their soul sucked out through their skin. Rogue gave the girl a pair of her spare gloves, which earned her a grateful look until she said, “Don’t thank me yet.” Back to business. No friends in the ring.

Zerker reminded Wolverine to keep the claws to himself and for Wilson to take off his shirt, which revealed pair of tsai strapped to his back. The scarred teen didn’t even bother to look embarrassed at being caught and tossed them casually aside crooning in an eerie sing-song “Now is fighty time fighty time.” Wolverine shook his head at the guy as he warmed up. Nuttier than squirrel poo.

“Wolverine!” Heads turned. Oh yeh, them.

Cyke and Jean stalked into the warehouse with a look on their faces like there was a vile fart right under their noses.

“Let’s do this,” Cyke announced and stripped off his shirt in an attempt to strike an impressive pose. Jean eyed her man appreciatively as the other kids rolled their eyes and the scornful muttering started.

“Keep your panties on,” Wolverine grunted and returned his gaze to his opponent who was cracking his neck with a rather sick crunch with a sound a bit too much like broken bone.

“Look dickface, you wanted to settle this, so let’s settle it!” the quarterback shouted. Jean sneered, “Yeah!” Rogue rolled her eyes dramatically at them both.

Wolverine turned back to them, “You’ll get your chance, Scooter. This clown here is just an appetizer. You’ll be the main course.”

Before Cyke could protest further he and Jean were surrounded by the other members of The House, effectively penned in. The Contract was thrust before each of them and Rogue held one bare hand in front of the face of each of them as Avalanche rifled through Cyke’s wallet and Jean’s purse to take their entry fees. They spluttered and cursed but when the rest of the spectators crept forward to further surrounded them the Bully and the Bitch shut their pie holes.

The match started off fair enough, both giving and receiving some pretty nasty punches to the face, until Wolverine got a grip on Deadpool’s face and brought it down to crash into his kneecap. When the scarred teen flew back and landed on his back Rogue screamed the official knock-down as betting slips flew back and forth.

Deadpool started to laugh hysterically. “I've seen tougher Ken dolls than you! And I mean take your pick here - mod-hair Ken - disco Ken - summer fun Ken - I let Barbie whip me cuz I'm a wuss Ken-" the boy was still rolling on the floor, clutching his sides. The kids circling around them edged back a bit. When the scarred kid started losing his grip things tended to go South.

“Get up, Wilson!” Wolverine barked.

Gasping for breath, Deadpool crawled to his feet, giggles still escaping his lips as he braced his hands on his thighs. “What, you’re really gonna fight fair Wolverine? Gimme a break!” Suddenly he lunged and grabbed the Xavier boy by his wrists and shoved them against into his scarred face.

“Snikt me! SNIKT ME!” the kid screamed in Wolverine’s face, spittle flying as he kept laughing maniacally.

“What the--?!? Wilson, get offa me or so help me I’ll-" he growled at the psycho.

“Yeah? YEAH?! You’ll what? Show me my intestines? Hang my kidneys around my neck like fuzzy dice? Do it! LET’S GO!” He shook Wolverine roughly until the other boy wrenched away from him with a snarl.

The dark haired boy looked over to The House kids, “Is this guy insane?!” he shouted. Nods all around. Great.

“Look out!” Rogue shouted as she saw a flash over her boyfriend’s shoulder.

Too late, Wolverine felt the blade sink into the flesh in his side then slice upwards, parting muscle and stopping only when it hit his ribs. He roared in pain and fury and rounded on Deadpool, who snatched the knife back and twirled it in his fingers.

“You know something? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” he chortled.

Bezerker rage overcame Wolverine as, with a savage howl, he launched himself at the other boy, bone claws slashing out as he punched and sliced with untamed, uncontrollable ferocity. Screams from the other kids rang out as blood splashed the floor each time the two combatants stabbed and ripped at each other. Another knife, Rambo huge with an evilly serrated blade, appeared almost magically in Deadpool’s other hand and flashed at Wolverine’s throat. He jumped back and rather than slice through him to his spine the blade merely sent a fantastically horrible jet of blood from his carotid artery.

Wolverine repaid him in kind by sliding past him as he slashed at the kid’s already scarred torso. When Deadpool went for his feint Wolverine tore through his hamstrings, leaving the kid crippled on the floor. No official shout for the knock-down, no cheers for one fighter or the other, only screams that had slipped from horrified yells to frenzied shouts for more blood. Rogue had gone silent, her eyes wide and blank as she watched her boyfriend reach down and grab his opponent by his throat.

“Let’s see how good you heal, bub!” Wolverine snarled into the hysterically laughing face of Deadpool.

“Snikt me! C’mon man! Show me what you got, you fucker!” he cackled, bloody froth spewing from his lips as he scrabbled at Wolverine’s face.

With a one quick and precise movement a severed hand fell to the floor. The bloodthirsty screams fell silent with a sudden snap, like someone had slammed a door shut on noise. Wolverine looked down at the still giggling amputee who was healing before his eyes.

“Can you give me a hand?” Deadpool wheezed as he crawled to his knees. “Never mind, I’ll get it.” He reached over and picked up his left hand and the cross section of his forearm that had also been sliced off between Wolverine’s three claws. “There we go,” he murmured between titters. Wolverine’s faced creased in disgust as he walked away and snatched a water bottle from the frozen hand of Silver, who was staring at him in amazement.

“Oh god, now it’s upside down,” came the mutter from behind him, accompanied by a squishy sound.

“Get him out of here!” Wolverine snapped at Colossus, who snapped out of his shocked stance and picked up Deadpool just as the boy reassembled his arm and hand in the correct combination.

As he was dragged out by the scruff of his neck the crazy kids called, “Had a lovely evening! Movies on Friday?!”

Wolverine turned in a slow circle to assess the others; they were all staring at him with undisguised awe. As if someone just turned the sound way up the crowd broke into excited shouts and whistles and congratulatory slaps rained down on his sore shoulders and back as he healed. He even tolerated the hands that ruffled his hair before he grabbed the Scotch from Lanche and downed half of it at a go.

He looked over at Cyke, who stood next to a crate, one hand resting on it as though to support himself. He looked sick and Jean held one hand over her mouth, her face pale and sweaty.

“Still hungry, bub. Ready to dance?” Wolverine growled. The claws were still out and he made sure they could see the blood on them.

Cyke took a step back, pulling Jean in front of him as a shield. “You’re a fucking psychopath,” he said shakily.

Avalanche stepped towards him, “You gonna fight or what?” The Bully cowered behind his Bitch and shook his head. “Then get to stepping!” he shouted and moved to grab the two and push them out.

Jean gasped, raised her hand from her mouth to her temple, and used her telekinetic power to knock Avalanche back so hard he skidded across the floor of the warehouse to slam into a support column, bashing his head.

“Oh no, you don’t!” shouted a high voice. Heads turned just as Kitty phased and leapt through Jean’s torso to rematerialize behind the girl and grab a fistful of scarlet hair. “Don’t you touch him!” she shrieked as she yanked down hard and bashed the redhead’s skull to the floor. The petite brunette stood over the cheerleader’s prone form, glaring down at her before she stomped one sneaker down on her back, leaving a perfect little footprint.

She rounded on Cyke, “What?! You want some of this?!” she shouted as she crouched down, ready to spring once more. Cyke turned tail and ran, leaving his girlfriend on the floor to be dragged out unceremoniously and dumped in the dirt on the far side of the district.

Wolverine laughed so hard he had to bend double, although part of that probably had to do with his s muscles and tendons trying to reattach themselves. When he looked up, wiping tears from his eyes, he caught Rogue’s eye. She was welded to her spot, not having moved at all since she’d screamed her warning to him. Her eyes were bright and glassy, her mouth open in an O.

Aw shit. He’d promised not to do this exact same thing. Didn’t matter Deadpool had brought out the blades first; he’d told her he wouldn’t bust out the claws.

“Hey, hey,” he approached her slowly, “Rogue, I know I said - I’m sor-" he was cut off by her sharp retort.

“Shut up and come with me!” She grabbed his hand and dragged him out a side door. He lowered his head, ready for her to yell at him for scaring her like that and breaking his promise. He was caught off guard when she slammed his back to the corrugated siding of the building and pressed herself hard against him, her hands scrabbling at his belt buckle.

“Oh my god, sugar, that was so hot!” she gasped. “Holy shit, you deserve a present for that little show!”

Wolverine grinned at the girl pressed against him and wrapped his hands around her waist to pull her more firmly to him. “Like what you saw?”

Rogue answered him with a hard kiss, reckless in its intensity and force, and he got a little zap for her efforts but even while it momentarily weakened him he felt emotions surge powerfully at her gesture. She wasn’t afraid of him, nor was he of what her powers could do to him, a matched set if ever there was one. For a brief moment she slid her tongue into his mouth and drew a husky moan from the back of his throat before she pulled back.

“Damn right, sugar,” she panted against his cheek and her hands went back to their busy work, one working his belt buckle loose and the other shoving his bloody, shredded shirt up to reveal his chest and practically ripping it over his head to give her free access to his body. Her head slipped down to nuzzle against the safe dark thatch of hair on his chest. What he’d once been so self-conscious about to the point of embarrassment now became a source of pride as Rogue breathed, “My wild man.” She seemed entrance by his hairy chest as she stroked him over and over, tracing muscles and lines with her fingers. Each movement raised the temperature around them a million degrees until Wolverine felt like she was going to give him heat stroke with just one more caress.

One of his bare hands came up to fist in the hair at the back of her head and he marveled at the silky feel of those ebony strands even as it began to slip through is fingers she started a slow trek downward. He halted her progress for a moment to pull her back into another bruising kiss, and then he slid back as his nose made contact with her cheek and he felt her power sizzle, both exciting and dangerous. She was an intoxicating combination, hitting all the right buttons, dangerous in a wildly erotic combination. He cupped one of her breasts through her fighting skin suit and thumbed a nipple, pleased beyond measure she wasn’t wearing a bra tonight. His thrill increased at the wanton sound she made as he lowered his head to nip at the tight bud. She grinned to himself at little jump she made in his arms as his wet tongue laved her hard and he pulled the peak into his mouth, saturating it with his tongue and excited breaths.

“Mmmm, nice as that is, thought you were the one getting a reward,” she gasped and pulled away. She laughed at the disappointed look on his face then the rapid change on it as she sank to her knees in front of him.

He grinned, flashing sharp canines at her upturned face, “Carry on then,” he rumbled through the vibration building his chest at the sight of the delicious and deadly girl in front of him.

He still held her hair in one hand even as her head dipped lower and he released it to let it tease a fiery trail with its silken strands across his chest to settle at his hips as her heated breath slid lower and lower.

“Shit,” he heard from somewhere around his belt.

“Disappointed?” he panted hard as he felt one of her silky gloved hands sneak into his waistband.

She muttered something he didn’t hear. “Huh?” he grunted even as his head fell back with a loud thunk against the siding at the sensation of her fingertips teasing him.

She lifted her head to give him a moue of mock disappointment. “What I had in mind required a condom. No dice, sugar.” She raised her empty hands with an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. He chuckled at the amused look on her face even as her grip slid down once more and tightened to create a dangerous sensation that caused his hips to jerk forward.

“Guess you’ll have to get creative, darlin,” he grunted and again jerked as she unzipped his jeans and slid free his aching length.

“I can do that,” she said with a voice full of promise and he growled softly when he felt her hot breath tease the sensitive tip of his cock.

BANG!

“Rogue, where are you!? You’re up!” Pyro shouted as he flung open the warehouse door with a crash.

Before he could stop himself, Wolverine growled loudly at the interruption. Unfortunately, rather than scaring away the firebug the sound allowed him to pinpoint their location in seconds.

“WHOA hahahahaaa!” Pyro cackled at his came around the corner and skidded to a stop at the sight of Rogue scrambling to her feet and Wolverine tucking himself rather roughly back into his pants. “Sorry,” he snickered, not sounding sorry at all as he eyeballed his friends. “But we’ve got almost $400 in bets already on you and Boom Boom,” he nodded to Rogue even as his grin grew wider at the pissed off look on the other boy’s face.

Pyro waggled his eyebrows suggestively when Wolverine shifted uncomfortably and had to adjust himself in his too tight jeans. Wolverine snarled so viciously the smile slid off Pyro’s face immediately and backed up. Rogue put a restraining hand on her boyfriend bare chest and drew a suggestive line down the trail of hair down low to once again dip her fingers into his waistband.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back in just a tick,” she whispered in his ear and to reward him for his patience she slipped her tongue into his ear briefly. It took every ounce of willpower for Wolverine to not punch Pyro in the face and pull Rogue around the back of the building to carry on.

Well aware of the violent and lascivious thoughts her man was entertaining, Rogue dragged Pyro off by the collar before she decided to let Wolverine eviscerate the boy for interrupting what had initially promised to be the next exciting step in their explorations. Wolverine staggered as best as his painfully constricted hard-on allowed to the door of the warehouse. He heard the screams and cheers of the others inside as Rogue and Boom Boom’s names were shouted by Silver. Just as he threw open the door to watch the fight there was an ear-splitting shriek; a blonde body went airborne and landed with an unpleasant thump at the feet of several spectators.

Before he even had time to register what had happened Rogue was in his arms once more, forcibly shoving him out the door as Avalanche announced the uncontested knock-out and Bishop started trying to bring Boom Boom around.

“Told you I’d only be a second, sugar,” she laughed as she backed him purposefully around the corner once more.

“You weren’t kidding!” Wolverine laughed loudly. “Good god girl, you’re something else!”

“Less words, more action,” she demanded as she pushed him against the wall once more and quickly ducked her head to bite him gently on the collarbone.

“Shit, alright darlin,” Wolverine panted. Both their movements became urgent due to the previous delay, Wolverine practically bending Rogue backwards as he latched onto her breast once more, nipping and sucking as she wrapped her legs around his waist and thurst her hands into his hair.

“Mmmmm sugar, so niiiiice,” she breathed raggedly into the top of his head as he teased her with his tongue through the fine material of her suit. The sound of her heart racing was so close he not only heard but felt it against the cheek he pressed to her barely covered flesh. It raced for him, for what he did to her. His own pulse pounded in time with it, echoing its thunder with its twinned cadence.

“Darlin', I gotta-“ he groaned against her as he felt her intimate warmth against his stomach as she writhed under his ministrations.

“Mmmmm sugar, please,” she muttered as she felt one of his hands leave her ass and sneak around to slither between their bodies and press against her. That weird sound she always made in him in his chest increased as he felt her jump in time with his fingers as they pressed and twisted against her until it emerged from his throat in a vibrating purr that passed through them both. Rogue bucked against his hand and a delicious whine came from her, urging him on.

“Whoops! Sorry!” came a high pitched voice from their immediate right. Both Rogue and Wolverine jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of Avalanche and Shadowcat, well at least their top halves, who had materialized two feet away through the warehouse wall.

Thank god for Rogue’s fast reflexes or Wolverine would’ve dropped her on her ass as he threw his hands up in shock. She got her feet under her in time to avoid an ignominious landing but stumbled back also in surprise.

“Fucking-a Lance!” she shouted. “What is it?!”

Kitty phased fully through the wall, dragging Avalanche with her by the hand. The wiry teen rubbed the back of his neck in discomfit at interrupting the pair. Pyro had already told him about walking up on his cousin and Wolverine practically going at it, so he was embarrassed to have done it himself. The look on Wolverine’s face was borderline homicidal as he wrapped a possessive arm around Rogue’s waist and pulled her behind him, presumably to get her away from the probable blood splatter.

“Uh-we…just-uh-wanted-gah-“ Lanche stammered as he backed away from his friend and equally murderous looking cousin.

Kitty huffed, “We were just looking for some privacy, sorry. C’mon Lance,” she said flatly as she grabbed Lanche by the hand and dragged him away and around the opposite corner of the warehouse.

Wolverine snarled furiously but Rogue practically collapsed against his back in a fit of giggles. “What’s a mutant gotta do around here to get some?!” he shouted in irritation to the world at large.

“Oh, so you thought you were gonna get some?” came a teasing voice behind him. He spun to see Rogue standing there with an innocent look on her face, hands clasped demurely in front of her, one toe twisting in the gravel with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“Hell yes, c’mere!” he grabbed her gloved hand and dragged her behind him across the lot to another warehouse, where he contemplated the locked door for a second, then unleashed one claw into the jam between the wall and door and sliced the latch open. Before Rogue could protest he threw her over his shoulder and stomped in, kicking the door behind him at he went.

“What an animal!” her voice floated up from his ass, which she gave a hard pinch right before he deposited her onto a crate with authority and practically attacked her once more, this time determined to finish what they had started before yet another interruption. She didn’t protest at all and matched his speed with her own, managing to shove his pants down to his knees before he’d hardly started to pay attention on the tit he’d neglected earlier. His ministration stopped on a dime when he felt her hand circle the base of his throbbing cock then stroke firmly upward and end with an excellent circle of her thumb around the head. He froze in place at the blazing feel of her hand on him, the sure and confident movements with which she wrung a groan from him that rose raggedly with each expert stroke.

“Not a multi-tasker, huh?” Rogue murmured against his chest when his movements stilled. She curled her lips back from her teeth and bit his nipple firmly, which provoked a wildly exciting snarl from him. “That’s alright…for now,” she giggled even as she nipped him again and followed it with a light flick of her tongue that mimicked the teasing motion of one silkily gloved finger sliding over the slit in his head, spreading his pre-cum. She flicked her tongue against his skin once more, positively wallowing in the feral sound she wrenched from him. Taking advantage of Wolverine’s apparent paralysis she spun them around until he was the one sitting on the crate and she knelt in front of him once more.

The dark boy leaned on the hands braced behind him, almost tearing grooves through the rough wood with his grip. His head fell loosely back as he felt Rogue’s expert touch work him like a magician. When her velvety tongue made a surprise swipe his head snapped forward to stare down at her, not wanting to miss a thing. The sight of her dark gloved hands sliding up and down his flesh made the muscles in his thighs tense and bunch as they framed her form, her dark and light hair spilling over his naked left thigh and providing another, more delicate stimulation. His eyes widened as her tongue snaked out and made a jaw-dropping circuit of his head, lapping up the moisture he was leaking almost painfully.

He didn’t recoil at the sight of her deadly skin so close to his favorite and certainly most sensitive part, except to urge her on with heated whispers of her name and gasped pleas for more. He trusted her implicitly, and the potential danger was only an added enticement, a kink that was infinitely more exciting than bare skin-to-skin, which he’d had a hundred times before. Every girl before was tame, boring, nothing special.

But this one, his Rogue was life on the edge of death, orgasm on the brink of agony, pleasure mixed with promised pain, addictive like heroin and infinitely more intoxicating and deadly. The girl kneeling in front of him was in no way subservient in that position often seemed to be. She held the key to his release, his body, his heart in the same succulent hands and lips that promised unimaginable agony.

No problem, he’d trust her with any and everything he had in this fucking world if she’d just not stop.

“Christ darlin’, god, good, Rogue, ahh, shit, Rogue,” he chanted in time with her sure movements, the now slick glide of her hands along his dripping length, the sporadic flick or prolonged lick of her tongue against his flesh.

“You taste so good,” she muttered against his shift as her tongue slicked against him once more. The wanton sound of her voice, the challenging look in her eyes as she raised them to his, thrilled him intensely as did her next words, “Come for me, c’mon Wolverine.”

He locked his eyes with her as she upped her tempo, the grin on her face wild and excited as his hips began to buck in time with her movements. She moved her face away a bit to not end this badly and stood, never breaking the dizzying rthym she’d set to insinuate herself between his thighs and press against him.

“C’mon sugar, you want to sooooo bad, I can feel it,” she cooed then grabbed his hair with one hand and wrenched his head back to bite him hard on the side of his neck where his pulse pounded wildly.

The feel of her teeth, her sure firm grip on him, the scent of both their arousal undid Wolverine completely and as his thighs clenched painfully around her hips he came with what he could have only described as a howl that spiraled up from his gut and tore from his throat with a primitive, untamed sound that echoed thrillingly in the vast space of the deserted warehouse.

“YES!” Rogue ripped her teeth from his throat and crowed triumphantly as he came on her glove in hard pulsing spurts, milking him until the last drop slid from his body. She felt the tension start to leave her man, the hardness in his thighs soften around her waist and she laughed, heady at how powerful she felt making her crazy boy lose control and howl like that.

Her laughter died as she found herself spun around once more and spread over the crate, Wolverine between her thighs now. “My turn, darlin’,” he growled and she sighed blissfully at the feel of his hand once more against her core, rubbing expertly through her skinsuit. She felt his other hand stroke up her arm to her fingers wound in his hair, pulling them away and to his face. She opened her eyes to see him take one gloved digit between his teeth and tug as one by one he pulled her glove free. Christ, he’d wanted to do that for ages.

“Trust me?” he smirked down at her. Two could play at that game. She nodded and held her breath as he wriggled the slightly too small glove onto his hand and unleashed one claw. He leaned over her and breathed against her lips, “You better hold still, darlin’.” She heard a small ripping noise then the feel of his hand against her bare flesh.

“Ooooooohhhhhh,” Rogue sighed, realizing he’d slit her suit and now stroked wonderfully at her uncovered flesh, teasing, sliding. “Oh my god.”

“Nah, just you and me this time.” His voice held a hint of laughter that she echoed before he stole her breath with an exploring digit that pressed gently into her.

The sounds she made, the unhindered scent of her body, the wetness he could feel through the glove it was utterly amazing and singular. Always before he’d seen this sort of foreplay as just a necessary step to nailing a chick good and proper, something to do as quickly as possible to get her wet enough so he could pump her to his satisfaction.

Not this time.

He wanted to make Rogue fall apart, break into a hundred erotic fragments the way she’d undone him just moments ago, feel her unwind around his touch, say his name without inhibition, feel her body respond to his caress, only his, only EVER his.

With these thoughts in mind Wolverine set about patiently working Rogue slowly to a fever pitch, alternately between gentle caresses of her lower lips, a firm but tender press against the center of her arousal, rolling it back and forth, and sure slow thrusts of first one then two fingers into her hot, soft pussy. He knelt in front of her to better see her body’s response and was rewarded with a strong heady whiff of her natural aroma, musky, spicy, smoky and he couldn’t resist a taste. He gave one experimental lick with the tip of his tongue to her clit and the hard spasm of her legs against his shoulder made that weird purring noise rise from his chest again. He did it again, then longer once more, no burn, no grasping electric sizzle of her power, just her slick wet tantalizing flesh sweet on his tongue. He figured her natural wetness might be protecting them both for now, and he decided to see just how far it would go.

Rogue cried out, “God! OH GOD!” as his lips latched onto her clit and sucked gently, then as he flicked his tongue rapidly over it again, again, and again her back arched and she honest-to-god screamed. Wolverine grinned against her and took his uncovered hand and laid it across his stomach to hold her in place while he teased, taunted, and stroked, nibbled, tasted, teased her higher, still higher higher until all he could hear were her ragged gasps interspersed with a delightfully nasty combination of curses and pleas.

“God, lick me, aaahhh, fuck FUCK! So good sugar, oh baby, Wolverine, right there, harder you fucker, SHIT SUGAR AAAAAHHHH!” He curled the two finger inside her towards him, pressing hard against her g-spot as she shouted and groaned, quivering tightly around him and the essence of her flooded his mouth. Nothing ever tasted so fine, felt so unbelievable, sounded as sweetly satisfying as making his woman come and scream louder than Siryn.

Rogue was utterly boneless under him as he stood up and leaned over her to kiss her gently, then more insistently as he probed her lips with his tongue, letting her taste herself on him. She sighed into his mouth and sucked voraciously until her sharp sting brought them both back to their senses. Wolverine staggered back a couple of feet, still grinning, as Rogue sat up, took a deep breath, and smoothed her hands over her hair as she crossed her legs.

She shot him an evil smile, “You enjoy the zap, don’t you?”

Wolverine chuckled at the sight of her sitting there patting her hair prettily back into place, her ripped suit giving him an indecorous look at her. “Heh heh, got what I was thinking?” He hoped he’d given her a brainful of all sorts of dirty thoughts about next time, coupled with a strong surge of powerful emotions, some possessive, but many much deeper.

“You’re such a slut,” she teased as she hopped off the crate and came over to him, sliding her arms around his waist. She swung her hair forward to protect them as she pressed her cheek against his gorgeous bare chest. “And somewhat of a romantic” she said softly, thrilled at the intensity of the feelings he’d projected to her.

“Yeh, well, it’s your fault, woman,” he growled, holding her tightly to him. She made him feel the damndest things, unexpected, unfamiliar things, but it felt right. He couldn’t voice it even if he tried, so he just showed it to her with their touch.

“I won’t tell, gotta protect your reputation.” She raised her head and kissed him once more, delicately on the lips, too swiftly for her mutation to rise up.

He felt his heart pound hard against his chest, not with exertion or excitement this time, but with emotion, the raw honest feel of Rogue in his arm, she fit right there just so, like his arms were built for the sole purpose of holding her in them.

“We got ourselves a little problem sugar,” she said a little sadly.

Wolverine pulled back and cradled his cheek in his hand, cupping it through her silvered hair. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked concerned.

“I can’t fight my next match with my crotch hanging out!” Wolverine tried to stifle his laugh unsuccessfully. She didn’t mind, just grinned back at him. “Helluva mental image I know, but I have another suit in my bag, can you grab it and bring it outside?”

They darted across the lot, still laughing, and Rogue hid behind the door to the warehouse as Wolverine darted inside to get her stuff. When the teen came back out they spent a few minutes playfully wrestling as Rogue tried to get into her new suit without giving Wolverine the full monty, while he grabbed at her as she fended him off. Wolverine was all for spending the rest of the night out here debating which of Rogue’s various stages of dressed and undressed he enjoyed most, but she reminded him he also had a match to fight if they wanted to get home before sunrise with money in their pockets.

Neither one of them noticed the blonde feral sitting on the roof of a warehouse across the way. Sabertooth’s legs dangled over the edge as he watched the pair through slitted eyes, his lip curled disdainfully as he detected their combined scents, saturated with heat. Only when the warehouse door banged shut behind them did he let a low growl curl from him, thick with menace.

It had been a really long night and the matches ran much later than expected, what with so many kids. Wolverine won the night after Quicksilver beat Rogue. The albino haired mutant had been too fast for her to get her draining hands on him and he’d managed to easily trip her three times. Wolverine, on the other hand, spent that fight watching Silver’s tricks and saw the kid had an easy to crack pattern, which he used to his advantage once their own match began. Silver relied too heavily on his speed and was overconfident in his ability to outmaneuver his opponent. What he didn’t count on was the fact that Wolverine’s analytical assessment of the previous match allowed him to anticipate the speedster’s next move. After allowing his white haired friend a few easy shots the surly teen counted mentally in his head as he watched the flashing form streak around him once again in what was now a painfully obvious counter clockwise figure eight.

Three…two…one…SLAM!

One heavy forearm shot out and Quicksilver clotheslined himself one it, turning a full backward flip in the air to land painfully on his face. Wolverine leapt on his pal’s back and twisted one rapidly flailing up arm and behind the other teen’s back in an excruciating arm lock that forced the wrist far up between the shoulder blades. A tap out followed shortly after and the rest of the kids split up while The House hung back another half hour counting up their take for the night.

“I love this game,” Lance muttered as he flipped through another stack of smaller bills, with Kitty to his left none-too-discreetly rubbing her leg against his. Silver double checked everyone’s count and distributed the final payout. Almost $400 for each of them in door and entry fees, plus the skim off the top of all bets, not including each one’s take from the fights they’d participated in. Wolverine made out better than everyone having won the tournament that night and, as such, half of the winnings, of everyone he’d beaten on the way. A cool $600 lay in his hands in addition to his House take.

“Gonna have to get me a fucking safe or something,” Wolverine laughed. He’d have to find a safe place to stash all this until he could get to town and a bank. In the meantime Rogue offered to keep it in her room, since few people dared to come in. He readily handed over his share, ogling in admiration as she slid down her suit zip and neatly tucked various denominations down her cleavage.

Pyro had his beat up old Pontiac so he dropped the Xavier kids a mile from the Institute. Zerker, Kitty, and Lanche ran ahead, phasing through the perimeter easily while Rogue and Wolverine took a circuitous walk around the grounds, talking about the night and stealing a few last kisses as the sun started to break the horizon. They said goodnight, or rather, good morning near their wing and split up to shimmy up their respective drainpipes on each side of the building to the top floor.

Wolverine pushed the window up, threw one leg over the sill and sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Damn, it had been a long night. Now it was time to hit the hay for a few hours then carf down enough lunch to fee an army. He stumbled over to this bed and sighed in relief at the gorgeous sight of it. He was prepared for a swan dive into sleep when something made him halt mid-collapse and the blood freeze in his veins.

“Late night, Wolverine?”

Angel. Damn him Satan’s rectum.

The blonde prison warden was leaning lazily on one shoulder, his wings spread seven feet across the wall behind him. He had one eyebrow raised and a sardonic smile playing across his way too even features. Wolverine contemplated making them asymmetrical for a moment before he realized he was in no position to do anything about it. The guy was a teacher, fuck it all.

“No shirt? Must’ve been an interesting evening,” Angel stated with an amused tone in his voice. It was annoyingly obvious the winged man was indecently enjoying pinning the teen like a bug.

Wolverine looked down, oh yeah, that. He’d forgotten to put it back on after Rogue threw it somewhere in the dark at the warehouses. Better bare chested than wearing his shirt splattered with Deadpool’s goo. Thank god for small favors.

A yelp down the hall spiked the quiet and Wolverine knew, without a doubt, Rogue had just been busted too.

“Yes, your little partner in crime has just been caught by Dr. McCoy,” Angel confirmed. “That where your shirt went?” Goddamnit, the guy definitely had a laugh in his voice. Grr.

Wolverine huffed in silent irritation. He wasn’t going to confirm or deny jack shit. When captured by the enemy a good soldier kept his fucking trap shut.

“Clean up and come to Xavier’s office in 30 minutes. He’s going to want to speak to you two and the others.”

Others? Shit, how many of them were caught? If they’d all been nabbed there was no way to salvage the situation. Someone might crack under pressure and blab all, or at the very least let something in their head leak so Xavier could snatch it from their thoughts.

Craaaaaaap.

“Thirty minutes,” Angel said again and walked out the door, shutting it firmly, but not before giving the teen a victorious grin the boy longed to cram back in his face with a double-decker fist sandwich. Wolverine waited for a minute then poked his head out the door, planning to sneak down to Rogue’s room and get their stories straight.

“Something I can help you with?” queried a voice and Wolverine jumped two feet in the air. Just to side of his doorframe was the furry blue doctor. Wolverine slammed the door quickly and leaned against it, breathing hard.

Fuck and double fuck!

He wasn’t ready for this; he didn’t want to leave this place or Rogue. He couldn’t picture Xavier letting his girl go, not when her powers were supposedly so dangerous. Neither of them of age to split without being dragged back unless they had some serious financial resources to get them from Xavier and the juvenile justice system’s reach. Wolverine was on probationary status as it was, so it was more than likely he’d get a one-way ticket to the slam while Rogue wound up on permanent lockdown at the Institute.

This was no kid’s table shit. They’d set up an underground fight club for muties, ran an illegal gambling operation, encouraged kids to whale on each other for fun and cash, and Wolverine had lopped off Deadpool’s hand a few hours ago. So what if the asshole could heal, HE’D CHOPPED A FUCKING GUY’S HAND OFF. He doubted Xavier would be able to see past that.

Seeing no obvious way to salvage the situation, Wolverine started sweating bullets. He’d do just about anything to avoid jail, even if it meant taking a header out the window and making a break for it. Realistically, he prayed to a God he was only on speaking terms with during dire emergencies that if he did some fast talking maybe he might just get sent to another halfway house, maybe Brotherhood. At least then he’d be nearby and see Rogue and the guys around.

No sign God was listening. He was probably busy helping Angel polish his snitch halo.

Wolverine sighed in defeat and went to take a shower. Might as well wash the stench of sweat and blood off himself and be somewhat presentable for his execution.

He spent the next 20 minutes under the pounding spray reliving his favorite moments at the Institute, most of which involved Rogue, some boxing, and that woodshop project he’d barely started. A highlight reel he hoped to take with him when his ass had gravel stuck in it from skidding down the driveway after the boot.

He felt like he was heading for the hangman’s noose when McCoy clapped one hand on his shoulder and steered him down the hall to Rogue’s room where the young woman stepped out with an equally defeated look on her face.

They looked guiltily at each other and walked behind McCoy as he led them downstairs. Rogue reached over and grabbed his hand hard, whispering, “I’m so sorry, sugar. I didn’t think they’d catch us. I just wanted to see you.” She shot him a desperate look and licked her lips, then jerked her head sharply at the blue back in front of them.

Riiiiight. “Didn’t think sneaking out would get us sent to the big man,” he whispered back, a little louder than strictly necessary. He squeezed her hand hard. “How much trouble we in?” He wished there was some way she could tell him for real how much flack they were about to catch.

“Week’s KP and lockdown when Angel caught Bobby out after hours fooling around in the greenhouse with Polaris,” she muttered. She caught his eye and mouthed “seriously deep shit” silently to him. A frown creased her forehead as she leaned it against his shoulder. They felt like mourners at a poorly attended funeral, probably their own.

They both saw one of the doctor’s furry blue ears twitch backwards, yup he was listening to their not so subtle whispers

“I’m on probation already, I don’t think I’ll get off that easy,” he grumbled sourly. “Think he’ll throw me out?” Rogue’s anguished face told him way more than he needed to know.

“They can’t toss you,” Rogue said loudly, with a nice spike of rising hysteria in her voice. “If Xavier does I’ll freak out!” She took a deep breath and collected herself, “It’s not fair, it’s just curfew!” She stomped her foot and Wolverine slid an arm around her waist before McCoy turned around.

“Quiet you two,” the beastly looking doctor rumbled. Rogue gave him the puppy dog eyes with an added touch of a few tears swimming in them. Wolverine just kept his head down with what he desperately hoped was a contrite air, and let Rogue drag him meekly behind her. McCoy looked the guilty couple over and sighed, “It’ll be okay, kids. I doubt the Professors wishes to expel all of you.”

Ugh, all of you. How many then? Not good.

They came down the last flight of stairs and McCoy steered the two miscreants to a bench across the hall from Xavier’s office. “Sit, he’ll call you in a few minutes.” Wolverine kept his head down until he felt a sharp nudge in his ribs. He looked over to Rogue who jerked her head to her opposite side.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Cyke and Jean were sitting right there, both of them both with furious looks on their faces.

“This is your fault,” Jean hissed at her boyfriend. “Did you have to leave me there for an hour before you grew the balls to come back and find me?” She punched the quarterback in the arm hard.

“Don’t blame me!” Cyke snarked back. “If it wasn’t for THEM,” he leaned around Jean and shot the other two Wolverine assumed was a dirty look behind his red sunglasses, “we wouldn’t have been out so fucking late and been nailed.”

Rogue tried to stifle a snort of laughter at the sight of their partners in punishment and failed miserably. Jean gave her an impressive shank eye. “Oh you just wait, bitch. Xavier’s going to know all about your little Underground now,” she whispered venomously.

Wolverine growled as he leaned around his own girlfriend to pin both preps with a dirty look that would make the Pope blush. “You rat on us you’re going down too. You signed the contracts,” he snarled.

Rogue shushed them, Xavier door was only feet away, but added, “You were ready to fight, right Quarterback?” Cyke’s face flushed as red as his shades. “You spill on M.U. and you’re in just as much trouble as us. We’ll throw your fucking contracts on Xavier’s desk.” She returned Jean’s eye daggers with interest.

The identical looks of confusion, then fear, on the Bully and Bitch’s face almost made Wolverine grin. Instead he leveled the cheerleader with a serious look, trying his damndest to keep a note of desperation out of his words. “Red, you’re the psychic. You better help us out in there if Xavier does brain surfing, or we’re all in dead meat.”

Jean started for a second at his statement, and then her eyes narrowed as she thought it over. Cyke swiveled his head to stare at his girlfriend, “You can’t seriously consider-“

“Shut up, Scott,” she snapped and held a hand up in his face to cut him off. “I’m trying to come up with an alibi for all of us, so be quiet!” She closed her eyes and raised her hands to her head. As she pressed her fingers to her temples the story flowed into Cyke, Rogue, and Wolverine’s heads.

A double-date? You’ve got to be kidding me.

“If we all agree to the same thing it’ll be easier to sell,” Jean hissed as she spun some more details of their combined date night, which was also a bury-the-hatchet meeting between the two boys.

If Xavier thinks we’re making an effort to get along he might buy this, Jean thought to all of them. Just stick to this story and don’t think of anything else. I’ll try to block him from going further than the surface.

Wolverine couldn’t help the small swoop of relief that snuck through him, and it annoyed him to no end when he felt Jean pick up on it. He almost threw her out of his brain in annoyance, but the cautiously hopeful look on Rogue’s face as Jean tapped the final touches of their alibi into their minds steeled his resolve.

“The professor will see you four now,” Angel announced. He held the door open and eyed the teens as they slid past him, heads appropriately low and postures decidedly slouchy as they faced Xavier. The stood awkwardly in front of the telepath, and he made no move to offer them seats.

“First of all, Wolverine and Rogue,” neither of the two made eye contact with the bald man but instead gripped each other’s hands more tightly, “I’d like to thank you for pointing out a weakness in our security system. Alarms will be installed on the living quarter windows by this evening.”

Rouge darted a look at her boyfriend, catching his eye. Damn. That was going to make things more difficult all over. Jean and Scott shifted uneasily. Guess they’d been exploiting that little loophole too.

“As for you two,” Xavier turned his attention to the QB and his cheerleader. “You seem to be under the impression I am fooled by a letters earned in sports and good grades, but I am well aware of your less than stellar behavior at school.” They visibly shrank under his penetrating gaze. “Behavior you should reconsider bringing under my roof.” The heat from their combined embarrassment raised the temperature in the room by several degrees.

“Now,” Xavier intoned as he steepled his fingers under his chin, “what were you four doing out all night?”

No one answered for a long moment, then Wolverine felt a feathery brush against his mind. He focused on the images Jean had poured into his head.

The four of them sneaking off grounds, meeting by the lake at the far edge of the property. Some snarking between the boys while their respective girlfriends diplomatically tried to make peace. Finally hands were shaken somewhat relectantly, some ruffled feathers smoothed by sweet talk from the girls, then they went to an all night diner.

Images of playing football with thediner’s folded comment cards shot between fingers held as uprights, a spilled drink that resulted in Wolverine looking like he had wet his pants. A footrace down the street with Cyke winning. Ending up by the lake again, the two couples splitting up to fool around on opposite banks, before sneaking back to the Institute.

Behind these pictures Xavier picked up Wolverine’s mind fluttering with half-formed, worrisome thoughts of being thrown out on the street or forced back to one of his previous halfway houses when he’d been subjected to occasionally violent treatment by other troubled teens. A fleeting thought of jail popped to prominence in the boy’s mind before Xavier felt the boy push it aside as Rogue’s face swam to the surface, accompanied by a surprisingly strong surge of emotion. The boy was clearly smitten with the dark haired loner girl and rather protective of her too. The boy seemed to think Rogue would be punished terribly, and he felt guilty over it.

The rest was unreadable, only fuzzy images accompanied by an indistinguishable buzzing that blurred away any further attempt at examination.

Xavier frowned and allowed his gaze to settle on Rogue, the same images of the evening floating to the surface of her mind, but coated over with a heavy dose of anxiety for Wolverine. The girl was exceptionally worried the dark boy would be expelled from the Institute, that she would be alone. A surprisingly strong, yet not unpleasant, feeling of pride and deep affection niggled at the edges of her worry over the boy and what might happen to him. Despite her anxiety Xavier sensed a wash of contentment in the young woman he’d not felt from her before, and he suspected the dark boy clutching her hand in his was the source.

Xavier was surprised at the depth of the two’s attachment and their concern for one another. He tried to probe deeper into Rogue’s mind but was met with an odd white noise that blocked further attempts, unless he wished to force his way and that something he would not do.

He read Jean and Cyclops easily, their minds much more familiar to him than the other two. The same play of pictures and thoughts, coupled with an understandable tinge of resentment towards the other couple. Xavier could tell the peace between the two pairs was uneasy but it appeared to be based on some sort of mutually protective arrangement. Almost as if the jock and popular girl were shielding the other couple for some unknown reason. Xavier was loathe to probe deeper over something as simple as what appeared to be typical teenage late night shenanigans, but that fuzzy white noise sensation he was picking up from all four was indisputably suspicious.

However, he had no proof in front of him of anything other than some curfew breaking and possible underage sex, and THAT something he had no legal right nor personal interest in regulating. Xavier sighed and sat back.

“Alright then,” he sighed; he had the distinct impression he’d been had, but couldn’t put his finger on how. “For the next two weeks you all have a 9pm curfew, no exceptions. No open hour visitation for any of you, either in your room or anyone else’s. Wolverine, your grades are still a concern, so I want you in the library studying for 2 hours each night after dinner. Rogue, you are not to leave campus and, to that purpose, I am confiscating your motorcycle. Jean, you are to assist Dr. McCoy in the science lab after school. Scott, you will work with Wolverine in the garage repairing Mr. Banks’ truck after school, along with any other vehicles that need attention.”

Cyke was the first to splutter, “But sir-“

“Can it, One-Eye,” Wolverine ground out. Even if he had to have old Cyke up his ass every day for the next fortnight it was much preferable to what he’d expected.

Jean pinched her boyfriend hard in agreement even as Rogue whimpered, under breath, “My bike…”

“S’alright darlin’, we’ll live,” he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She looked at him and nodded, suddenly very grateful her bike all she was going to lose.

“You’re dismissed, “ Xavier concluded. As the four teenagers scuttled away, Xavier was a sneaking suspicion he’d missed something very important. But these four weren’t the first troublemakers he’d dealt with, nor would they be the last. Every year there was a new crop of sneaky kids to handle, and Xavier was nothing if not patient in dealing with them. He’d figure it out, he always did.

McCoy escorted Jean and Cyke back to the group dorms as Angel hustled Wolverine and Rogue to their wing. They walked on front of him, hands clasped, sneaking winks and nudges at each other as Warren strolled behind them, happily lecturing them on their behavior and punishments.

“You know Xavier could have been much harder on you guys,” Angel said smugly. “Sneaking out isn’t fun and games to those of us charged with watching over you.”

Rogue crossed her eyes and pulled at face the winged man couldn’t see from behind her, and Wolverine had to smother his snort with a cough. “We’re tasked by the state with keeping you safe, and if you gallivant off to who knows where at all sorts of hours then we’ve failed the state and you,” Warren prattled with an impressively stentorian tone.

Wolverine flapped his lips silently in an exaggerated imitation as Rogue slapped one hand over her mouth. “And it’s dangerous to be off campus all night,’ Warren chided. “There’s all sorts of crazies out there just waiting to jump a couple of innocent kids and take their money.”

“What money?” Rogue asked innocently, even as she smiled to her man at the memory of all that cash hidden under the loose floorboard in her closet.

“What innocence?” Wolverine chimed in, momentarily lost in recollection of Rogue spread beneath him, gasping for him to lick her again.

“I’m serious, you two!” Warren snapped, and he laid a hand on each of their shoulder to turn them around. He leaned down to get more on their level, his wingtips brushing the floor and gave them both a look so earnest Wolverine was sure he’d just given himself a hernia as he clenched down the bark of laughter threatening to burst out of him.

“I know you both think you’re tough, but what would you do if some gang members tried to jump you?” The painful concern in Angel’s face was more than they could take.

“Suck their souls out through their skin?” Rogue asked politely as she wiggled her fingers in front of her face.

“Rip open their abdominal cavities and let them see their intestines hit the ground?” Wolverine said causally as he let the claws on his left fist slide free and tapped them against his knee.

“Put them in the hospital for a month with one touch of my finger?” Rogue’s face was cracking.

“Hang their kidneys around their necks like fuzzy dice?” Wolverine’s eyebrow had disappeared into his hairline as he remembered Wilson’s joke.

“Ok you guys,“ Angel fumed.

“Punch them in the gut so hard they throw up last Sunday’s church dinner?”

“Give ‘em a bone claw prostate exam?”

“Alright, alright.“ Angel’s hands wagged in their faces in a vain effort to shut them up.

“Kill them with a kiss?”

“Darlin’, what a way to go!” Wolverine announced as he grabbed Rogue and planted a wet one right on her lips.

“Enough!” With a swoosh Angel flapped his wings hard enough to send a furious gust of wind along the corridor and almost blow the two teens clutching heatedly at each other off their feet. They broke the kiss, but never bothered to look at him, their eyes only on each other.

Warren slapped a hand over his face. “Never mind…just…just go to your rooms.”

Even though Avalanche was actually alright in algebra and came by to help his pal muddle through variables, his imprisonment in the library was sheer hell and it barely started. Wolverine decided the Professor was an evil sadist. Super healer or not he was getting headache the size of Manhattan, and homework should be banned by the Geneva convention.

“Christ, I’m never going to use this shit,” he growled for the tenth time that night.

Lanche rubbed his fists into his eyes for the tenth time himself. “Look man, I have no idea what the hell people use this for after high school either,” he admitted. “But if you want Xavier off your ass then you have to get your grades up.”

“I know,” the dark teen sighed. “I just too fucking thick to get it.”

“Yeh, you are pretty stupid,” Lanche agreed.

“No need to agree so quickly,” Wolverine grumbled and gave his pal a scorching look that not only failed to make the guy’s hair fall out but made him laugh in his face.

“But dude,” Avalanche lowered his voice conspiratorially and looked around the library to make sure no one was in earshot, “you got mad street smarts. Rogue told me you got Jean to cover for you. That was slick.”

Wolverine couldn’t help himself but smile tightly to himself at the reminder. “Yeh well, it was just blind luck mixed with the right amount of blackmail.” He nudged his friend. “I thought all you’d been busted too.”

Lanche flung himself back in his chair and put his hands on his head. “No shit! When I heard you guys were in with the big man I thought we were all dead!”

“Shhhh!” an admonishing hiss came from another table. Lanche looked over at Kitty, who was nose deep in a history book.

He threw her a wink then turned back to his pal. “Seriously, we owe you big time, man.” He chucked Wolverine in the shoulder then bent back to his textbook, filling in the margins with pornographic doodles rather than equations.

“Yeh, well if you want to pay me back put M.U. on hold for the next few weeks,” the shorter teen grumbled as he lowered his head once again over the puzzle of x over 7.

Lanche blinked disbelievingly at this suggestion. “What the hell? Hey, I know you don’t want to miss the action, but you and Rogue will get your cuts and-“

Wolverine slapped a hand over Lanche’s mouth and looked around suspiciously again. “Quiet, asshole!” Lanche blinked and nodded, so the dark boy removed the palm from over his yap. “Look Lanche, it was close, fucking curlies-on-your-nuts-close. Next time we probably won’t be so lucky.” His friend nodded. “Seriously, there’s no point in borrowing trouble right now, Xavier’s wise to something going on, so just play it cool. Everyone keep their noses clean for a bit.”

His eyes narrowed as he checked around them again for eavesdroppers. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t drum up more business in the meantime. I’m talking SERIOUS business. One…last…bash,” he emphasized as he slid a list over to his partner in crime.

Avalanche’s face split in an evil grin at the paper. “For all the chips, then we cut it loose before we all get nailed.” Wolverine nodded, glad his buddy understood the danger and the potential. “Sucks it’s gotta end, it’s been a good run, but I understand. Almost got enough to put a down payment on that Jeep I been looking at,” the wiry boy sighed as he flipped pages in his notebook.

Wolverine patted his bud on the shoulder. “Who’s to say we don’t start up again after graduation?”

“My man, I like the way you think!” Lanche exclaimed. Kitty shushed them again from the other table, but softened her hiss with a lascivious look at Lanche. “That’s IF you graduate. You’re on your own for the rest of the night, Wolverine.” The earth shaker eased over to the next table and sat on it, chatting up Shadowcat while looking down her shirt. Wolverine hunched back over his homework, his mind only half on fucking coefficients and the rest on how to make sure their last slam was completely worthwhile.

Rouge slouched in just as he was slamming his math book shut in frustration and reaching for the only thing more boring, history. Her sweatshirt hood was pulled up over her head and her jeans rode low enough to pique Wolverine’s interest with a strip of purple lacey something. She flung herself into the chair next to his with a cranky look on her face, and he quirked an eyebrow at her waiting for whatever it was that was stuck in her craw.

He didn’t have to wait long. “I feel like I’m in prison!” she burst out and flung her head dramatically on her arms across the table, like the weight of being confined to campus was too much to bear. Muffled curses sounded from under her hood. Something like, “Cnebnneekazmok” also leaked out.

“What?” He lifted her hoodie back, but Rogue kept her face pressed against the table.

“I can’t even sneak a smoke with the windows wired,” she groaned. Yeh, that did suck, which was why he was going to chain like a chimney behind the Institute before he had to go to his room at 9pm like a naughty 10 year old.

He stroked the back of her head. “It’s okay, darlin’, it’s only 2 weeks,” he said calmly. She didn’t look like she was in the mood for jokes.

He was right about that as her head snapped up and she leveled him with a glare that almost made him lean back in his chair away from her. She looked positively venomous. “You won’t be saying that when you’re stuck in the garage with Scooter. Then you’ll be crying about cruel and unusual punishment too!”

“You gotta point,” he grudgingly admitted. The parts for the truck had come in and tomorrow he and Cyke would be forced together over a busted up engine. Knowing Angel they’d be locked in the garage too boot. Wolverine seriously doubted having the two of them surrounded by drills and saws was a good idea. Fuck it, he could heal and Jean might digs scars on her squeeze.

“As if seeing that asswipe at school wasn’t enough now I’m tied to him here too. Shit,” he sighed.

Rogue was entirely unsympathetic, “Whatever! At least you get to GO somewhere, talk to other people, get out of the freaking house! It’s just me, my computer, the goddamn Professor, and that kid made out of toxic waste here all day. Not exactly stimulating,” she grumped, flopping her head down again on her arms, which made her hoodie flap once again over her head as she sent up an anguished wail of frustration.

“You need some stimulation?” Wolverine grinned, as he flipped through his history book and pretended to be absorbed in some crap about Archduke Ferdinand, a pansy ass name if he ever heard one. Meanwhile, his other hand crept below the table to squeeze Rogue’s thigh, then meander further up until it was toying with her zipper.

“Maybe,” came the muffled response from the curtain of hoodie and splayed black and silver tresses.

Not one to require much encouragement, Wolverine dragged her to the back of the stacks and cornered her in a dark section on Mycenae archeology no one ever visited. Whipping out the gloves he now carried 24/7 for just such emergencies, he spent a good part of his study time getting Rogue in a better mood with some busy handwork. Mission accomplished, she smoothed the frazzled peaks of his hair with a satisfied sigh, readjusted her belt, and flopped down on a sofa to start quizzing him on WWI history.

A few minutes to nine, Angel poked his head into the library and embarrassed them to death in front of everyone by announcing it was time for them to go to their rooms. Rogue and Wolverine made an ostentatiously loud departure from the scene, complete with slammed books, curses the students nearby giggled over, and a clinical discussion over whether Angel would lay eggs or have live young if he was ever lucky enough to get some.

After some deliberate pawing in front of their uncomfortable winged chaperone Rogue and Wolverine parted ways for the night, and the teen headed for his shower. A cold one was definitely in order. While teasing an entertaining variety of responses from Rogue he’d gotten all worked up, but there wasn’t a whole lot they could do about it in the library, as enticing an idea as that was. Wolverine was pretty sure the Professor wouldn’t overlook some ooey-blooey on the spines of his books at this point in time. And he hadn’t had time to grab a smoke, so the teen was irritated on top of horny.

He was just getting into a nice solid wank, the shower sprayer positioned just right, hips jerking in just the right tandem with his hand when an irritating beeping reached his ears. He tried to ignore it, but it came back again louder and more grating than before. He tried to push it out of his mind and focus on the fist furiously working his cock when it sounded again, this time with a shrill that made him wince. Recognizing defeat as his dong gave up the ghost and flopped in his grip, he snarled and unleashed the claws, shredding the shower curtain as he stalked from the bathroom.

“Goddamnit!” The noise had stopped. He looked around, sniffed the air, nothing.

Turning back to the bathroom Wolverine decided to give it the old college try and attempt to beat his frustration out on his meat one more time. Just as he stepped on the tile the noise sounded again. He jumped a foot in the air in surprise, slipped in a puddle of water on landing, went ass over tea kettle, and bashed his head spectacularly on the counter. Not bothering to wipe the blood away, he pounced back into his room, tracking the sound. A-ha, it was coming from the bed. He flipped the mattress over and tore at the sheets, finally discovering the infernal device tucked into his pillowcase.

It was a weird shiny X-looking thing. He sniffed then started back in annoyance as it screamed again, vibrating in his hand. He squeezed it and the top slid back with a click.

For fucking fuck’s sake. It was a phone.

“What?!” he barked into the X.

“That’s a hell of a greeting, sugar,” drawled that familiar voice.

“Oh, hey, how do you have this number?” Stupid, stupid but it was all he could think of.

“God you’re thick, who do you think got it for you?” Rogue laughed. “Had Zerker pick it up in town with some of our winnings.”

“That’s mighty nice, darlin’, but we just talked in the hallway.” Wolverine had never had any use for these contraptions; if he wanted to talk to someone he’d just fucking go find them and talk. Plus, he didn’t like the idea of people being able to reach him at all hours.

“Tired of me already?” she mocked. “What took you so long to answer?”

“Was in the shower,” he growled, feeling his forehead for the bloody cut now healed.

“Naked?” Rogue’s voice perked up.

“No, in my clothes. Of course naked!”

“Hmm, that’s something I’d like to see,” she purred.

Ok, maybe there was something to these devices after all. The pervs who call 1-900 numbers can’t be completely wrong about phone sex. “Would you now?” he asked casually as he righted his mattress and flicked a sheet back on the bed then laid down on it.

“Hmm-hmm. I bet I got something you’d like to see too.”

“Girl, it ain’t smart to tease a wild animal,” he gruffly into the phone and the sultry laugh that sounded back to the line to him stirred his previously declared dead Johnson back to half-life. There was a loud beep right in his ear that made him jerk the phone away. “What the hell? It just made a noise. Piece of shit battery dying already?”

“Nah sugar, just hit the center button, scroll to photos, then hit center again. You got mail,” Rogue whispered.

He followed her instructions and became an instant convert to the cell phone nation in that moment. He would slice the head of anyone who ever touched his phone because there was no way he was ever going to let anyone see THAT except him. “Holy shit darlin’, that’s one for the spank bank!” he breathed and happily embraced his now revitalized woody.

“That what bank?!” she cackled in his ear.

“The…spank…bank.” Silence. “C’mon, don’t make me explain it,” he whined.

“You tell me what it is,” the voice in his ear murmured, “and I’ll send you another one.”

“Good god woman, alright, it’s what I’m going to jerk off to later! Happy?” God, he was embarrassed…and horny. Was it possible to be both so badly at the same time? Apparently.

“Why later? Why not right now?”

Christ, that was an excellent idea. “Gonna have to hang up then, darlin’.”

“You only have to use one hand, Wolverine,” she reminded him.

“Not so, smarty pants. One on me and one on the phone so I can see if I can figure out how to use the zoom and get a close-up of your-“

“Alright, alright,” she laughed. “Sweet dreams, sugar.”

“Nite darlin’. Thanks for the-“

“Oh don’t thank me yet, you haven’t seen the one I’m sending in just a second.” She hung up and sure enough another minute later the phone beeped again. Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! Wolverine slept very well that night…after a while.

Tomorrow he’d learn how to text and figure out how to use the camera.

Wolverine was in the garage, cursing under his breath at a stubborn alternator when Cyke finally decided to show up.

“Listen, One-Eye,” he barked from under the hood, “Xavier said be here right after school. We ride the same damned bus so where the fuck have you been!?” He stood up and threw down the socket wrench with a satisfying loud clatter.

“Hello to you too, Neanderthal.” Cyke said fussily as he came around the car and brushed himself off. “I didn’t want to mess up my good clothes, so I had to find something to put on.”

The dark boy eyed the taller teen up and down. Cyke’s coveralls looked like they’d just come from the package and had never seen an honest speck of dirt in their life. “Your ‘good’ clothes.” Wolverine said sardonically. “Riiiiiight.”

“I’m not going to get grease all over my school clothes like a fucking …a…a…” The look on the shorter boy’s face made him choose his next words a little more carefully than he’d originally planned. “Uh, like you.” He looked Wolverine up and down, the black shirt, the beat up jeans. “Didn’t you wear those jeans to school today?”

“You checking out my wardrobe or my ass?” Wolverine barked in laughter, which only increased as Cyke flushed.

“Aren’t you worried about getting them dirty?”

“Christ, you are something else.” Wolverine pinched the bridge of his nose in the universal lord-give-me-strength gesture. He was standing in a garage covered in grease, having a conversation with Assface about clothes. This little chat needed to end STAT.

“Whatever. Tell me you know something about cars,” he growled.

“Of course I know fucking cars!” the quarterback bit off furiously. He stalked over to the other side of the garage to a car tarp and pulled it back to showcase a shiny red Alfa Romeo with white pinstripes. “Mine!” He said proudly. Dear god, his chest even puffed out. Ugh.

Wolverine firmly stamped down the desire to gawk at the slick ride and settled for making a jerking off gesture to convey the lie that he was not at all impressed. “You mean your dad’s. You didn’t buy that with your own money, did you?” he sneered.

“Well…no,” Cyke muttered, rubbing his hand in discomfit across the back of his neck. “But I keep it up, everything, by myself.”

“Congrats, you get a gold star. Look, you can polish your chrome later; help me change in the oil in this heap.” Wolverine gestured to the less than impressive green and rust colored gardener’s truck.

They two boys busied themselves above and below the truck, and Wolverine was working mindlessly on cleaning the rings for the new oil filter when Cyke’s voice floated up from below the engine.

“So you and Rogue, huh?”

He grunted noncommittally.

“Soooo…” There was a pause, one he didn’t like as he suspected what was coming. “How do you two…”

“Often and vigorously,” Wolverine snarled.

The trolley slid from under the car and Wolverine looked down at the face of the quarterback by his feet, a stupid grin on the guy’s face. “You know what I mean. Her powers. How do you-” and he made a fist pump.

Wolverine out a foot on the trolley right between Cyke’s legs and glowered down at him. “You wanna ask that again?”

Cyke glanced down at the steel-toed boot inches from his crotch, sighed, and scooted the trolley back under the truck. “Just curious,” a grumble floated up from below.

“Hey!” Wolverine snapped, “I don’t ask about you and Red’s sex life, do I?!” He deliberately dropped a lug nut down a crevice in the engine and smirked in satisfaction when Cyke grunted as it bounced off his forehead.

“It’s pretty awesome, now that you mention it.”

Wolverine grimaced at the smug tone of the other teen’s voice and growled warningly. “You wanna share secrets and giggle have a fucking slumber party! I’m here to work!”

Cyke sighed, “Fine, just thought since we’re stuck down here until god knows when talking would pass the time.”

“You keep yapping and you’ll be seeing God a lot sooner than you think.” That shut him up.

After a few minutes the drip of oil stopped and Wolverine peered down through the engine casing. “You done, One-Eye?”

“Yeh,” came a muffled voice and one of the legs poking from underneath the car nudged out the pan full of dirty oil.

Wolverine opened two quarts of oil and shoved their necks into the opening in the engine. Second later a choking splutter came from under the car, following by a stream of curses and a flurry of legs. He grabbed the trolley and hauled Cyke out from under the car, only to be met with the sight of the quarterback’s face and shoulders covered in oil.

The explosion of laughter that burst from him only increased as Cyke wiped two fingers over his glasses so now the red shone through the gooey mess. The bigger boy jumped to his feet and scrubbed the back of one hand across his mouth to shout, “You did that on purpose, you asshole!”

Choking on his own hysterical chuckles, Wolverine managed to splutter, “I did not! You said you were done!”

“I was done with draining the oil. I wasn’t done cleaning the rings to screw the plug back in! Look at me!” Cyke held his arms wide apart, as if touching himself in such a state was beyond comprehension. “You fuckhead!”

“I asked you if you were done, and you said yeh!” Wolverine shouted back.

“I wasn’t done done! You didn’t ask me if I was done done!” Cyke railed, getting right in Wolverine’s face and splattering him with oil as he shouted.

“Who the fuck asks if someone is done done?!”

“I do!”

“I mean someone besides a pansy!” Wolverine couldn’t help it, he started laughing again so hard he doubled over and clutched his stomach. “Oh god, you idiot,” he wheezed.

Bad move. With his head down he didn’t see Cyke’s fist come down on the back of his neck.

Wolverine hit the floor with a thud but, with a growl, he was up and all over the other boy in a second. He lunged at the quarterback, who tied up his arms in a wicked lock and they wrestled across the floor, shoving and straining while they cursed each other. Wolverine powered his foe into a workbench and tools rattled as the peg board behind them shook wildly. Cyke braced himself against the workbench at his back and shoved as hard as he could, muscling Wolverine back across the garage floor, The floor turned into a slick surface when they kicked over the full oil pan, and they fell to the floor in a greasy tangle of arms, legs, and vulgarities.

“Motherfucker!” Cyke choked through a mouth full of oil as he put Wolverine in a half-nelson and ground the other boy’s face into the slimy concrete.

“YOUR mom enjoyed it last night!” the smaller boy ground out as he pushed them both up with one arm and flipped them over so he was on top and threw a couple of elbows behind him that connected satisfactorily with quarterback’s ribs.

“Don’t talk about my mom!” A fist wound in Wolverine’s hair and pulled viciously, wrenching his head back. Wolverine had to stop trying to hit Cyke to twist out of the painful grip, which allowed the bigger teen to jump on his back once again and pin him to the floor once more with a crazy twisting of arms and immobilized one leg and forced his shoulders into an awkward angel. “All-state wrestling champ, runt!” Cyke taunted. “Let’s see you get out of this one!”

Wolverine broke wind, loud, juicy, and horrible against Cyke’s stomach pressed against his ass. “Gut bomb!” he hooted as the other boy scrambled away from him in disgust. Wolverine collapsed on the floor, guffawing hard in between gasps for air. A moment later he heard a disturbing noise and looked over to see the athlete sprawled on his back, giggling. Cyke raised his head to look over at the dark boy pool lying with his cheek in a pool of dirty oil in hysterics and lost his shit all over again.

“What’s going on here?”

The two slime-covered boys looked up to see Angel towering over them with his wings outspread until they almost touched the opposite walls, and kept laughing so hard that Wolverine started to hiccup. The shorted teen managed to pull himself up to his knees while Cyke struggled to a sitting position in between giggles.

“Changing the oil,” Wolverine gasped up at the stern faced man.

“Uh-huh,” Warren said skeptically as he leaned down and offered a hand to each teen to pull them to their feet. Unfortunately he did not factor in the slick floor and, as he attempted to pull Cyke and Wolverine up, his feet shot out from under him in two radically different directions, and he crashed to the ground in a tangle of feathers and limbs.

Sobering up immediately at the thunderous look on Angel’s normally serene face glaring at them from the ground, both boys scrambled to their feet with only minimal slippage and wrested the man to his feet. They shot panicked looks at each other, knowing they were already on thin-ice and Warren could sink them for another few weeks of punishment for this.

“Oh god, sorry Mr. Worthington!” Cyke stammered as he grabbed a shop towel and tried to scrub away the filthy smears of oil now splashed across Angel’s wings.

Wolverine spun on the spot and rooted frantically across the workbench. Grabbing a tub of Orange Goop (A/N garage degreaser soap), “This’ll help!” he shouted as he slapped a blob onto a wing and rubbed it vigorously, trying to get the muck out.

“Guys! Guys!” Warren spluttered as he tried to fend off the grimy towel Cyke was now scrubbing at his sweater sleeve, which only succeed in working the horrible slime into his expensive angora sweater. He whipped his head to the side to see Wolverine slap another heap of orange something onto his contour feathers, sticking them together even more. “Guys!” He flapped his hands helplessly at the two nervous teens attacked him with degreaser and grimy shop towels until he felt a couple of his larger feathers get pulled out.

Then he lost it. “ENOUGH!” Angel shouted and flapped in a panic.

A wing caught each boy hard and sent them tumbling back. Wolverine landed on the workbench where a hammer promptly fell off the peg board and onto his head, knocking him and sending a spectacular gush of blood over his face. Scott crashed back and slammed into the door of the gardener’s truck with a crunch. Angel looked around in horror at the sight of one unconscious boy with bone showing through his split scalp and the school darling quarterback laying on the floor groaning the clutching his now dislocated shoulder.

An hour later Wolverine was up and bouncing around the med lab in boredom while Dr. McCoy put Cyke in a shoulder brace. Angel slumped in a corner, surrounded by his now gummed-together black and orange wings, his face a picture of defeat.

“Alright, Mr. Summers,” McCoy said soothingly, “just keep this one for a few days, ice it regularly and it should be fine in a week or so.” Cyke shifted his shoulder slightly and winced only a bit before nodding. “It’s good thing football is over or this could have ended your season. But you’ll be right as rain in time for summer training.”

Angel groaned in the corner and covered his face with one hand. Thank god, if he’d permnentaly taken out the star quarterback he would have been tossed out so fast his wings would’ve gotten road burn. As it was he was plain lucky Wolverine was a healer and didn’t appear to be suffering from any side effects from having his cranium split open. Well, if the kid did have brain damage it would have been indistinguishable from his normal behavior.

“Please stop that,” he said pleadingly to dark teen who was currently balancing a couple of scalpels on his fingertips, sharp side down.

“What? Oh, sorry,” Wolverine muttered as he tossed them back onto a tray with a clattered then, catching a stern look from McCoy, tried to re-arrange them in the order he’d found them, making even more noise.

After a few seconds, McCoy rested one huge blue hand over the boy’s. “It’s alright, son. Why don’t you go sit over there while I finish up with Mr. Summers.” He nodded to a chair over by Warren in the corner.

Wolverine skulked over to the chair and sat down, his hands between his knees and his head bent low. “Sorry,” he muttered to Angel.

The winged man looked right then left at his wings and sighed exasperatedly.

“I always screw shit up.”

Angel looked down at the dark head bowed low. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. The kid certainly didn’t make things easier for himself, but Angel had overreacted in the garage. The boys had been trying to help, in their own ham-fisted and moronic way, but he bhad revealed grey matter on one and nearly torn the arm off another in his carelessness.

He laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Kid, you’re a lot of trouble, no doubt.”

Wolverine’s head slumped lower, “No kidding. I can’t do anything right.”

“I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Just-“ Angel sighed “clean up that mess downstairs…and don’t tell Xavier I brained you….” He couldn’t believe we was saying this. “And we’ll call it even.” Made a deal with the damn devil, that’s what he did.

Wolverine hopped up, grabbed Angel’s hand, and pumped it hard, causing the man to wince. Christ the kid had a grip. “Deal!” He swiveled his head around to look at Cyke over his shoulder, “You ready, Scooter? We gotta clean up the garage.”

Cyke hopped down from the stretcher, rolled his shoulder again with no wince this time and nodded. “Let’s go.”

The two boys walked down the hall, talking quietly about their narrow escape from further punishment and the work the truck still needed. Angel shook his head in amazement. Those two had hated each other’s guts with a fiery purple passion just a few days ago. Today he found them laughing their asses off in the garage after what looked like a shit fight. Angel was quite certain he was never that inconstant and ridiculous when he was their age.

Christ, kids. No matter how long he worked at Xavier’s he would never understand them.

“Ah now, Mr. Worthington,” Dr. McCoy said with a slap of his hands. “Let’s see what he can do about those wings. You’re not allergic to polyethylene are you? No? Good, I think I have just the thing.”

Four hours later Angel left the med lab a few feathers short and thin on patience. He wondered if Xavier might consider a request for a leave of absence for mental health reasons.

For Wolverine the rest of the week passed in a boring blur of school, afternoons stuck in the garage with Cyke, library torture with Rogue, Lanche, and anyone else stubborn enough to try to tutor him, and the occasional game of grab-ass with his girlfriend. But they couldn’t get very far without Angel swooping down on them at unexpected moments. The only decent breaks in the tedium were the occasional hissy-fits he managed to provoke in the quarterback while bossing him around the garage.

The jock had wrongly assumed being one-handed, due to his shoulder injury, that he would sit on his ass and do nothing while Wolverine worked on the truck. The smaller teen designated the one-armed boy as the “garage bitch” and got an insane amount of amusement making Cyke get up over and over and over to walk across the space and bring him a tool, only to have to turn right back around and get another tool, then one in a different size, then some screws, an attachment, more sockets, etc.

Cyke did a passable job of keeping his frustration in check but snapped when Wolverine informed him he wanted the red-handled Phillip’s head screwdriver and not the yellow one. After looking them over and realizing they were the exact same in every way except color Cyke cursed the feet sticking out from under the truck and kicked the trolley, shoving Wolverine further under the chassis until his head bashed the heat shield.

Wolverine let that one slide momentarily, at least until the other boy turned his back, then kicked over a container of ball bearings, feigning a groan of annoyance. Cyke spent the next hour crawling around the garage locating the tiny metal spheres, cursing under his breath while Wolverine whistled a happy tune as he installed a new water pump. Cyke got him back pretty good later on when he smeared axle grease on the trolley. Wolverine was temporarily gummed to the contraption and had to do an awkward dance to scrape himself free, all while the jock stood there and laughed, then ducked a wrench thrown at him.

Despite constantly getting under each other’s feet and skin, they managed to make good headway on fixing up the gardener’s banged up heap and were looking over the other cars to see what they should tackle next. The handyman’s wussy golf cart didn’t merit their attention, but hiding under some tarps were an intriguing couple of rust buckets the auto repair class had abandoned that looked like they needed some attention.

Friday after school Wolverine was free from his homework torture until later in the weekend and went to the court behind the Institute cafeteria to meet up with his favorite jerks. Being on double-probation now, he couldn’t get permission for his Brotherhood House pals to visit but Avalanche did, so Pyro and Silver hopped on the Xavier shuttle after school to shoot hoops for a few hours until the BH van came to drag them back home.

Full-court shirts vs. skins would normally have delighted Rogue, except Wolverine was on the shirts team and she was taking her house arrest more and more badly each day. She blew off the guys’ offer to join the game and instead plopped down on the picnic table next to the court, jammed her MP3 player ear buds in, and nodded her head in time to the metal pounding in her head. Smacking her gum irritably, she watched her boyfriend play with his pals rather than sit next to her and join her bad mood.

Avalanche dunked on Wolverine and laughed a little too loudly at the disgruntled look on the other boy's face while he shouted “You got posterized!” and cackled. A couple of the footballers were sitting at a table a few feet away, including Bobby and Colossus and Cyke, playing cards and talking shit. Well, Cyke and Bobby were, Piotr just nodded good naturedly and ignored their more immature jokes.

Bobby shouted a taunt at Pyro, which the firebug ignored as he was trying to catch a ball before it went out of bounds. He managed to knock the ball behind him before he landed over the line, but his foot came down on a patch of ice that unexpectedly appeared. The HB boy slipped wildly then crashed down on his side with a shout of pain.

Iceman grinned at the two boys with him and slapped down another card. Piotr frowned at the blonde while Cyke looked over his shoulder at the guys on the court gathered around Pyro, who was massaging his ankle.

“That little fucker isn’t getting on my team,” Iceman said snidely. He was point guard and captain of Bayville’s varsity basketball team and he didn’t want any BH delinquents on his squad.

“Hey!” Avalanche shouted as he stalked over to the card game, angry purpose in his stride. “You almost broke his leg!” he thundered as slapped his hand down on the pile of cards in the middle of the table and leaned into Bobby’s face.

“Almost? What a shame,” Iceman drawled sarcastically. Piotr looked away with a pained expression while Cyke elbowed his teammate roughly in the ribs, and nodded over his shoulder. Popsicle looked behind him to see the players lined up in an aggressive posture and all glaring at him. Wolverine eyed Cyke with a hard, appraising look.

“Bobby, apologize,” Cyke said quietly.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Iceman said incredulously. “I ain’t apologizing to that BH trash! None of them should even be here!”

Lanche’s fist clenched and the ground rocked slightly under the table as Cyke elbowed Iceman again, “Do it,” he said through gritted teeth.

Iceman stared at his QB quizzically then at the growing fracture in the ground between his parked feet. “Whatever…alright.” He looked over his shoulder and met Pyro’s furious glare. “Sorry,” he called half-heartedly, then stood up and jammed his fists in his jeans’ pockets. “What is with you?” he shot at Cyke before stomping away.

Wolverine gave a tiny nod to Cyke, who returned it with a shrug and turned back to Piotr. Rogue watched the whole thing irritably and tapped her foot on the bench in time with the music.

“Dat vaz good of you,” the huge Russian rumbled softly.

“Whatever. I don’t need Bobby getting busted up. Hard to find good players in this dump,” Cyke muttered and gathered up the cards to re-deal them. Colossus nodded sagely but allowed himself a slight smile as he studied his hand.

Half an hour later Cannonball and couple of other guys stepped out of the game to take a break and Wolverine walked over to the card table. He leaned over Piotr’s back, examining his hand. Cyke huffed in irritation and held his closer to his chest. The dark teen plucked a single card from the pile on the table and slid it into the giant linebacker’s hand.

“Ah ha! I vin!” Colossus crowed as he slapped his cards down hard enough to crack the table. He grinned in embarrassment at the damage then at Wolverine. “Thank you, my vriend. You vish to play with us?”

“Not unless you’re playing for money,” Wolverine said airily as Cyke threw his cards down in annoyance. “Then again, the way Scooter plays I might have a go,” he laughed as he saw the bunk hand the QB had been holding.

“What do you want, hairy?” Cyke shot at the shorter teen.

“We’re short a couple of guys, wanna jump in?” He gestured to the court behind them where the other boys were arguing over the rules of Horse.

Cyke’s eyebrows crawled several inches above his shades in surprise. Before he could answer Piotr’s huge hand crushed his shoulder as he answered for both of them, “Da, ve vill join you.”

Rogue pulled out her notebook and began to doodle grumpily as another game started and her boyfriend appeared to have forgotten all about her.

The game was going fast and furious for a while, with no one bothering to call fouls since Piotr joined the game. So the elbows started coming a little harder, hands wound up in faces, and a few people ate asphalt only to jump back up and charge down the court again, Silver helped by some speed. Sunspot turned black and launched himself into the air to block a shot, while Colossus turned to living metal and became a charging foul magnet when he planted himself firmly under the basket and players slammed into his immovable bulk with painful results.

Kids began to line the edges of the court to check out the spectable, laughing and shouting encouragement as the players’ powers resulted in some crazy plays, some even more nutty blocks, and occasional slams to the ground. The game devolved into something less resembling basketball and more like war when Cyke tried to block a shot and got a hard ball to the gut from Zerker as a thank you. The jock lobbed the ball into the air then lowered his sunglasses and aimed a short optic blast at it that sent the ball barreling right back at the electric mutant who dodged it, only to let it slam into Wolverine’s back and send him stumbling forward. Wolverine grinned evilly as he dribbled it between his legs, then fired it at Lanche’s blind-side with some serious juice on it. Silver flashed by in a blur to catch it before Avalanche got concussed, and the speedster wound up like a major league pitcher to blast it in a blazing flash at Colossus. The metal teen shot out one hand and caught it in one huge mitt, but the incredible force spun him around to crash into the pole holding up the basket.

With a groan the column split in half and the whole thing crashed to the ground, the backboard splintering. The crowd fell silent with a gasp and stepped back. Piotr looked down at the smashed hoop and reverted back to flesh in embarassment.

“Ah-“ he looked around at the wide-eyed kids looking at him. “I believe the vight word is oops.”

The crowd cracked up laughing as a kid about 13 years old with blue skin darted over to the Russian and shouted excitedly, “Can I play?!” Piotr shrugged and handed the ball to the kid, who levitated it over one hand then turned the ball into an orb of pulsing blue light.

“Mutant dodgeball!” the boy screamed and all the kids on the sidelines poured onto the court as the electric blue ball streaked in a zigzag over their heads to zip towards the other end of the court. Hands reached for it, laughter screaming through the afternoon, powers flashing into view as bodies jumped higher, moved faster, changed colors as the crowd broke into sides one each side of the half-court line and the ball blasted back and forth.

Even Rogue cracked a smile at the chaotic mass of laughing kids, which she quickly tried to stifle when she remembered that she was in a bad mood. She concentrated on whatever the heck it was she was pissed about and, failing to recall, she looked around for something to get mad at since the madcap game in front of her wasn’t working. It was then she saw Bobby peeking around the corner of the building closest to the court.

What was that sneaky bastard up to?

Rogue pushed her stuff to the side and slid off the picnic table, circling around back of the devious looking blonde jock, using his attention on the game to her advantage.

He was muttering to himself, “Fucking delinquent firestarter...my team…little bastard.” Rogue’s eyes narrowed as she watched the muscles in Ice Cream’s neck and shoulder’s bunch in anger as he raised one hand and directed it straight at Pyro. The BH boy stood in front of two smaller kids with his arms spread to shield them from the basketball as it flashed back and forth, laughing as he shouted instructions at his charges.

Bobby’s hand turned blue with frost as air condensed and solidified in the air above his palm, forming a huge ice ball as he prepared to attack the unsuspecting Pyro. Rogue pulled off one glove. The projectile was the size of a melon and would probably smash the two little kids in addition to her friend.

Rogue hissed in anger at the sneak attack.

Bobby jerked in surprise and spun around just as Rogue lashed out with here bare hand to slap the tar out of the insolent jock. The teen froze in her grip for a moment as her hand connected with his cheek then clutched briefly to give him a painful zap for good measure. He dropped at her feet face first, and his nose smacked satisfyingly into the dirt as the ice ball dropped with a dull thud next to him.

Rogue grinned in grim satisfaction then stalked towards the game as she tugged her glove back on. She stood on the sidelines for a moment until Wolverine dashed past her with a small girl on his shoulder who was weaving golden spirals from her hands and giggling madly.

The dark teen braked on a dime and backtracked. “Ready to play, darlin’?” He grinned toothily at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh as the girl perched on his shoulder grabbed his hair and pulled hard, shouting, “Go! Go!”

“Sugar, you got no idea,” Rogue drawled as she clenched one hand behind her and focused then threw a snowball right in his face.

By the time Dr. McCoy and Angel came outside to usher the kids to dinner the playground was nothing but trampled slush and scorched grass, and students were lying everywhere in exhaustion. The two adults shook their heads at the sight of over a hundred kids sprawled on the dirty ground in piles of gangly arms and legs, covered in mud, and laughing hysterically.

Iceman’s unconscious form went unnoticed in the mess, at least until Piotr stumbled across him on his way to dinner. The big teen sighed as he bent down to heft his annoying teammate over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Piotr might not be the brightest guy, but he knew where Rogue had gotten her snowballs from and probably why Bobby had been taken down. The guy was an excellent tight end but a big jerk with a mean streak. Piotr carried the slowly stirring boy up the back stairs to avoid questions and hip checked open the door he shared with Bobby.

A muffled voice floated up from behind him, “Imma kill that bitch.”

Colossus sighed and dumped Bobby roughly onto his bed, not even wincing when his roommate’s head clonked noisily against the post, knocking him out again.

Wolverine and Rogue spent open hours Friday night stuck in their rooms, while Angel plopped himself in a chair in the hallway and made sure they stayed put until curfew and the alarms were turned on their doors and windows. They passed the time in growing irritation that not even a swapping of cell phone photos Xavier probably wouldn’t have approved of could alleviate. The fact that they could’ve been out whipping ass and breaking the bank at M.U. had it not been for the need to lie-low did little to improve their moods either. Wolverine was once again reminded that no matter how nice the bars were the school reminded him of a prison sometimes.

Saturday morning felt like early parole as they wandered out of their rooms. “C’mon darling, it’s Saturday, best breakfast of the week,” Wolverine said as he dragged her downstairs.

“Is that all you can think about? Food?” Rogue grumped as she allowed herself to be towed into the cafeteria.

“Nah, not the only thing,” he winked and slapped her on the ass with a loud crack that made quite a few heads turn and Warren’s usually smooth forehead crease from his seat at the teacher’s table.

“Oh, god you’re a morning person, aren’t you?” She winced and rubbed her sore ass, a smile slipping into place despite herself.

“Hey, no school today, what’s to hate?” Wolverine shrugged as he heaped every variety of protein available on plates, added some fruit and a bagel as an afterthought, and then loaded the tray enough soda and coffee to keep them both well caffeinated until next week. As they slid into their seats with Avalanche, Kitty, and Berzerker Rogue reached over to take a bowl of grapes but was stopped short by a sharp tap to her wrist.

“Get your own plate,” Wolverine growled as he began to shovel sausage into his mouth in an apparent attempt keep up with Lanche’s record breaking pace. Rogue’s mouth dropped open, a sharp barb on the tip of her tongue, when he winked at her between bites. “Kidding,” he grinned as he nudged the grapes towards her. She sighed in exasperation and, despite the horrifying realization that her man was apparently an early bird, smiled to herself as she felt him press his leg against her under the table.

She and Kitty alternated between amused and semi-revolted glances at each other as their respective boys tucked in more food than the human form could possibly hold, leading them to question several laws of physics. In between inhaling his eggs and apparently absorbing several strips of bacon through osmosis because all he did was look at them and they vanished, Lanche slid a paper across the table to Zerker. They were the notes Wolverine has passed to him about M.U. several days earlier, with his own suggestions penciled in at the bottom. Zerker swiveled his head around casually to look around the room, checking to make sure no one who didn’t need to know was nearby, then grinned conspiratorially at the others. “I like it, count me in,” as he sketched a few quick ideas of his own at the bottom and pushed them over to Wolverine, who nodded sharply.

“Like the way you think, just keep it real quiet,” he growled warningly.

Zerker winked. “I’ll drum up some business on my end, you just take care of yours,” he said quietly as he picked up his tray and left to hit the gym. He was determined to make a better show of it at the next M.U.

Lanche whispered, excitement dancing in his eyes, as he leaned over the table, “Next weekend?”

Rogue tapped her finger on her chin thoughtfully, “I dunno, we’ll have just gotten off probation but I bet Warren and Xavier will still be keeping an eye on us.”

Wolverine nodded, “Yeh, give it a week or two after and we should be good. Gives us more time to get it all together, make it worth the wait.”

Kitty leaned in now, on the pretext of taking a slice of apple from Rogue’s gloved hand, “I got some ideas on how to get the word out online, but only to the right people. There’s this shadow board I’m on and-” Wolverine and Lanche’s heads turned in surprise to look at the girl. “What? I’m not the fucking goody-goody you all seem to think!” she huffed in annoyance and elbowed Avalanche in the ribs.

The boy laughed and rubbed his sore spot before wrapping a possessive arm around the petite brunette’s waist and hauling her up with him as he stood. “Yeah, wanna prove it?” Without further ado, the couple walked out of the door leading to the mansion grounds and disappeared, wrapped around each other.

That looked like an excellent idea, one Rogue opened her mouth to suggest before Wolverine interrupted her. “Darlin’, can I borrow your bike?”

“What for” Even though her beloved motorcycle sat idle in the garage because she was banned from going off grounds, Rogue wasn’t wild about the idea of someone else using it, even if it was Wolverine.

“Gotta go into town, stuff to get,” Wolverine said mysteriously as he sipped his second cup of coffee.

“Uh-huh,” Rogue said suspiciously, crossing her arms across her chest, which pushed her boobs up in a pretty enticing way in her v-neck purple shirt.

Wolverine appreciated the view and made sure she noticed as his eyes dropped down the front of her top and rested on her bright green bra. “Yeh, gotta surprise for you. Doubt they sell what I got in mind in the commissary here.”

“Hmmm,” Rogue feigned reservations, but the idea of a gift was something no teenage girl could resist. “Don’t scratch it.” She smirked at the pleased look on the dark teen’s face at her acquiescence. “And you have to get the keys from Xavier and sign out, tell him where you’re going, all that junk.”

“Crap, forgot about that.” Wolverine scratched his chin in thought, and then took a deep breath. “Ok, just go get me some of our money, and I’ll meet you in the garage.” With that he stood up and walked over the teacher’s table where Xavier sat with Warren, Dr. McCoy and a couple of other teachers. He stood politely to the side, something that didn’t come easily, but you do what you got to do to get by around here, especially if he wanted to go on his little shopping excursion.

After a few moments, Xavier turned his head to see the young man standing respectfully to the side, “Yes, how can I help you Wolverine?”

“The truck’s finished. I gotta list of the stuff me and Scooter…uh…Cyke and me fixed.” The boy fished in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled dirty ball, smoothed it against his thigh, and held it out. Xavier hesitated to touch the grimy sheet but took it between two fingers, delicately laid it on the table, and examined it.

“Hmm, yes, hmmm. That was quite a bit of work,” he noted. Wolverine nodded once and kept his trap shut. It was a LOT of work, what with Cyclops getting under his feet making a mess of things, but no need to editorialize.

Xavier regarded the uncharacteristically reserved young man as he stood silently next to him. Perhaps this boy wasn’t as beyond hope as he’d initially seemed. “All right, a deal is a deal. How does $75 for your time sound?”

Wolverine clenched his jaw to keep from barking that a real garage would’ve charged about 6 times that for all the work. No point in ruffling anymore feathers literally or otherwise; Warren was still annoyed with him and Wolverine needed to get back in both his and the professor’s good graces.

“Yeh, sounds fair,” he said shortly. Xavier’s eyebrow crawled up an inch. It wasn’t hard to see the boy didn’t agree with his assessment of the cost of labor, but was willing to compromise to make some money…and something else? Yes, there was definitely something else the boy wanted.

“Good then, if you’ll come with me to my office I’ll pay you,” Xavier said smoothly and wheeled away from the table and down the hall. Once inside his office, Xavier keyed a code into an electronically locked drawer in his desk and pulled out the petty cash box. As he counted out Wolverine’s pay he looked up at the boy. “There was something else you wanted to speak with me about.” It wasn’t a question.

Wolverine shifted from one foot to the other, “Yeh, I know I’m on probation, but I’m not banned from leaving campus so I was wondering if I could go into town,” he said in a rush, “I’ve got stuff to do this afternoon when the shuttle takes everyone else to town, so I’d like to go this morning. I wanna get some clothes, I ain’t got much, and-“

Xavier held up a hand, stopping the boy in his tracks, then regarded the young man for a long moment as he opened his mind to catch the boy's quite noisy thoughts that bounced around the room. Yes, the boy did need some more clothes, wanted some books, wanted to go to the mall.

“On Rogue’s motorcycle.”

Wolverine scowled, “I though you said you didn’t go poking in other people’s heads without permission.” His jaw clenched again.

“Yes, well,” Xavier shifted in his chair, “You were broadcasting a bit. I can’t help but hear sometimes. Young people’s minds can be rather…boisterous.” Xavier could tell the boy to bit down whatever retort it was clear he wanted to fling at the older man for the perceived intrusion.

However, the teen schooled his expression and shrugged casually. “Yeh, alright, whatever. One of your vans needs a transmission drain and tune-up. I was gonna work on that this afternoon.” Might do good to let the old man know he planned to keep working on the Institute’s cars, like they agreed. Xavier wasn't the only one who held up his end of a bargain.

“Hmm, I see.” Xavier decided to take a chance and trust the boy on this one and dug into another desk drawer to retrieve the keys. He held them out to the teen, who reached eagerly for them before Xavier withdrew them a few inches. “Not going to run away are you?” he asked in a wry tone, but he was quite sincere in his question.

Wolverine froze in place for a moment, his hand still reaching over the desk. He shot the man something that almost passed for a smile. “Nah, I got stuff to come back to.”

Xavier picked up a startlingly clear thought of Rogue, followed by a flurry of interesting images of a project in shop class, playing ball with his friends, a hand reaching into a dirty engine casing, strong water pressure from a shower, and an absolutely massive breakfast.

Xavier leaned forward once again and dropped the keys into Wolverine’s outstretched hand. “All right, here you go. Back before 1pm, you have woodshop,” he reminded the young man, who nodded sharply once more before walked out of the office.

Now all Xavier could do was wait and see if the boy was as good as his word. He massaged his temples; Wolverine's thoughts had been quite loud, forceful, unusually so and had given him a headache.

As soon as the office door swung behind him Wolverine stamped down the urge to break into a run as he knew he wasn’t out of range of the telepath’s probing mind. So he walked calmly and deliberately down to the garage where Rogue waiting Once alone, she shoved a thick envelope in his jacket pocket as she slid her arms around his waist for a swift kiss.

“You think you got enough in there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he felt the heavy wad of cash.

“Well, better make it a good present,” she sassed then shoved a duffle bag at him. As his questioning look she grinned, “Besides, I want you to get me a few things while you’re in town. Here’s a list.” And sure enough she crammed a piece of paper into the pocket holding the cash.

“Christ, now I’m your errand boy?” he groused. Better not be any tampons on it. No matter how fucking awesome she was the Wolverine did not touch embarrassing girly hygiene products.

“Correction, errand man,” she soothed as she stroked the side of his face with her gloved fingers. Damn, he’d never get tired of that touch.

“Fine,” he growled, at the same time trying to resist the urge to nuzzle his cheek again that enticing hand, “better make it worth my while, woman,”

She answered with a stinging slap to his own ass as he slung the empty duffle across his back. He couldn’t help but grin and tried to grab her for some payback, but she danced out of reach with another grin, the kind that made his insides jump. He cranked the bike with a grin and roared out of the garage so fast the front wheel left the ground for a moment. Even over the roar of the engine and the wind in his face he heard her shriek of “Don’t scratch it!”

The girl was something else, a whole lot of things he didn’t have the words to describe but he figured fucking-A might cover most of it. The looks, the attitude, the motorcycle, the love of kicking ass. Oh yeh, she deserved a present. She’d given him a helluva present of his own at the last M.U. with the hottest blowjob of his life. But in order to repay her in kind, or better, he needed to go shopping. Yeh, he needed some new jeans and t-shirts, another set of gloves, but his main interest lay in the store across the street from the mall, which the handy-dandy cell phone with 3G Rogue had given him provided clear directions to, and a few pics of some of the more intriguing merchandise for sale.

But firsts things first: the basics before the dessert. Wolverine hit the first department store he saw at the mall, spent 2 minutes rifling through a few stacks of jeans to find ones in his size, grabbed a couple of pairs in varying shades of dark blue, and threw them on the counter next to the register. When the total came up he pulled out the envelope and rifled through it for the necessary bills, which caused the clerk waiting on him to raise her eyebrows until they almost disappeared into her hairline.

No way a kid should have that much cash. Drug dealer probably.

Wolverine noticed her suspicious gaze and smirked at her, showing a lot of sharpened canine, which caused the woman to quickly return her eyes to the pants she was bagging. After that he roamed the mall for a few minutes until he found a decent music store and snagged another handful of band t-shirts for the closet and a couple of CDs he’d been wanting: Tenacious D, the new Nine Inch Nails, box set of Queen at Wembley Stadium, Mudvayne, System of a Down. With relish he slapped down another bundle of bills on the counter. He’d never really had money to spend, and it felt damn good. But he checked himself from splurging on the MP3 and video player that practically screamed at him from the window of the Mac store. Had to remember that most of his and Rogue’s M.U. money wasn’t for blowing on random shit but to set them up if things went south. Get them on the road in style so they didn’t wind up on the street. And of course, a little gift for his girl.

And the list. Crap, he almost forgot about that.

Wolverine juggled his bags until he could grab the paper with a free hand. Gloves, damn specific on what kind, what store, what size. Lipstick, variety of shades with interesting names like Black Coffee, Liquid Insanity, Joker Green. And what’s this? Something from that very story across the street. No description, just a scribbled line that said “Pre-paid under my name, waiting at the counter.”

Alriiiiiiiight. That’s his girl.

Eager to get to the mystery pick-up across the street Wolverine found the store for her gloves at light speed. A fancy looking vintage shop of all things, overstuffed with such a huge variety of hats, feathery things way to girly to look at for long, and gee-jaws and doo-dads he had no idea what they were. Momentarily overwhelmed by the bewildering display of colors and texture, he reached out blindly, grabbed a passing salesperson, and dragged them into his view.

“Well, helloooooo handsome,” cooed a young man with a bleached white pompadour and Elvis Costello square glasses. “What can I do you for?” Wolverine stifled the urge to blarf at the guy’s putrid burnt orange and brown bowling shirt with the name Peaches embroidered on the breast. Gotta appreciate the original folks.

“Yeh, gloves, I need gloves.” He squinted at Rogue’s untidy scrawl on the page. “Sheer silk, nylon, leather.” Leather, heh heh, love it.

“Oh dearest, I have JUST what you’re looking for,” Peaches crowed as he grabbed Wolverine’s elbow and dragged him forcibly to the back of the store and began digging enthusiastically through a giant bin of gloves in every shape and color.

“These are verrrrrry Marlon Brando in The Wild One, muy macho,” Peaches announced holding up what looked less like Marlon Brando and more like a BDSM club, with spikes and ties and all sort of complicated shit.

Wolverine pulled his hand back as Peaches tried to wrestle one of the gloves over his forearm. “Sorry, not those. I need a small and something simple.”

“Honeybunch, I know we girls like to lie about our size but these-“ Peaches grabbed Wolverine’s wrists and held his hands up “-paws are not going to fit a small. Despite your height I can tell you’re a larrrrrge.” The guy gave him a blatant once over from head to toe.

Wolverine couldn’t help it and started to laugh as he pried the shop clerks’ clutches from him. “Sorry, Peaches, but they’re for my girlfriend.”

Peaches made a moue of disappointment and turned to once again dive into the glove bin, muttering, “Why are all the good ones straight?”

One bag crammed full of gloves in every style Rogue asked for plus a few Wolverine took a shine to, plus the lipsticks and one perfume he found light and clean enough for his palate, and Wolverine was ready for the coup de grace. He stopped at the bike to stuff everything into the duffle he’d left hanging on the handlebars and lugged it across the parking lot. No sense in leaving the shit with the bike to get nicked.

Ah, here we are, like the fucking golden arches for the horny: Pleasure Principle. The dark young man was pleased to see the shop didn’t favor the girly pink with neon hearts so many adult stores favored, as though they could fool anyone that this was a romance store and not a shop more skewed to the bumping-uglies-fast-and-furious crowd. Black shop front with even blacker windows, red Xs and lightning bolts by the door told him with any luck he’d become a frequent shopper.

Unfortunately, there was no crowd of pervs to blend into as it was 11am on a Saturday morning. Only a geriatric geezer examining the butt plugs who looked too old to still have those urges and a face-pierced chick slumped lazily by the register, flicking through a porn magazine. She gave Wolverine the hairy eyeball when the door closed behind him and he blinked at the drastic change from blinding sunlight outside to the darkness of the store. All he saw was leather and dildos everywhere. Legit.

“Gotta be 18 to come in here, kid,” she drawled, putting down her mag and resting both elbows on the counter as she looked him over with a bored expression.

Not one to resist a challenge, Wolverine stalked over to her with as much bravado as his 5’4” stature allowed, reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and rifled some bills so she could see.

“You work on commission, right?” he smirked.

Her eyes widened briefly before she smothered her interest in the greenbacks with another studied look of boredom. “Alright, you’re 18.”

Wolverine nodded at her stellar business acumen and began to prowl the store. Hot damn, there was all kinda freaky shit in here. He’d wanted to check out a store like this before but never had the chance or need, what with no money and easy normal girls who were content with a quick pump and dump…or at least a pump. The dump a few of them took issue with. But that was the past. Now he was looking for something special for a very special goth girl with dick sucking lips and deadly kisses and an attitude that made him wanna crawl on broken glass if she asked. Maybe a few something specials if something caught his eye and screamed “Put me in your mouth, on your cock, in your girl, FUCK MEEEEEEE!”

Ok, gotta reign in the wild horses of imagination because as much as he suspected Rogue might be up for some fun and games, maybe some kink, he doubted the ball gag he currently had in his hand would go over very well. Shit, they’d only fooled around, not sure either she or he was ready for THAT…yet. Heh heh. Besides, the noises Rogue had made when he brought her over on top of those shitty crates in the warehouse, well that wasn’t something he was interested in muffling with a gag. He’d make her sing that song anytime she let him. Loud and proud.

Wolverine was poking through the shelves looking for something to shriek Rogue at him. The fuzzy handcuffs held no interest but the leather straps linked by a chain, soft and supple but strong enough to keep even a Wolverine in check held his attention, until he couldn’t get them off. Christ on a crutch, his hands were now lashed together in such a way he couldn’t bend one wrist to undo the other. After several minutes of surreptitious struggling and chain rattling loud enough to make the butt plug man creep too close for comfort he managed to free himself without busting out the claws.

Yeh, he could just see Rogue screaming at him to untie her and him fumbling like a idiot. Not gonna happen. He turned to a shelf full of jars and tubes. Hmmm, heated body oil, cooling body oil, hmm. He screwed the top off one jar and recoiled at the menthol scent, then another with an artificial cinnamon smell that made him cough. Ugh, not it either. He entertained himself for a bit with a set of XXX dice, envisioning in detail a few of the creative combinations the pervy little blocks suggested Rogue and him try out, but that wasn’t it either. He was getting ahead of himself. He needed something simple to start out with, see what got his woman’s motor running then maybe they could come back for something spicier later on. He settled on a bottle of unscented body oil, figuring enough grease and things might slip and slide a bit easier on bare skin. An image of Rogue clad sprawled shining and slick and front of him was something to savor. But still it wasn’t what he was looking for.

Wolverine was starting to get irritated as he batted through a rack of lacey and leathery butt floss thingies, nothing meeting his unique requirements for something that revealed paradise and covered hell at the same time. He slumped in despair against a shelf and was turning over a rubber ducky that doubled as a clit stimulator when a voice behind him made him jump.

“That’s one of our best sellers. Very discrete.” Damn you shopgirl! What was it with sale people today all up his ass?

He shoved the ducky back on the shelf, knocking over a double sided dildo in the process which fell to the floor with an embarrassing thud. Butt perv looked over at Wolverine, down to the giant dong on the floor, then up and winked at the boy. Wolverine didn’t bother to bite back the snarl that erupted from his throat and was viciously pleased to see the ancient letch hobble away as fast as his arthritic legs could carry him.

Turning his attention back to the hovering shop bitch he grunted, “I look discrete to you?”

She was thoroughly unimpressed. “You look like you need some help. For you or for her?” Ok, so she wasn’t stupid, score one for the chick with the barbell through her cheek.

“Her,” he said shortly and looked around helplessly. There was a ton of orifice violating shit around him but nothing he was looking for. “I need something to cover her with.”

“Kinky,” Barbell remarked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Nah, not like that. Thing is, she’s got this skin thing going on-“

The girl’s nose crinkled in disgust, “Like a rash?”

“No!” he shouted in embarrassment. The old perv from Family Guy peeked his head over a stack and ducked down again at the stink eye Wolverine gave him. “No,” he said in a normal tone now. “Her skin…it’s…ah…dangerous…” He didn’t know what else to say without going into an embarrassing explanation about powers and shit and how he wanted to bone a girl without dying.

“Ahhhhh mutant,” Barbell said wisely. “Got a couple of things that might help.”

Wolverine looked at her in obvious surprise, to which the girl flipped back the hair from her temples. Scales, iridescent greenish purple scales, traced the edges of her face. He sighed in relief.

Barbell smiled conspiratorially, and he caught a glimpse of a forked tongue as she spoke, “Kid, you ain’t the first guy who needed to get creative with a mutie girlfriend.”

He laughed, “She ain’t the only mutie.” He flicked the claws on one hand and preened inwardly at the impressed look Barbell gave him.

“Fucking wicked.”

He shrugged at her compliment and got down to business since there was no longer any need for embarrassment. “Her skin does like this soul sucking thing if you touch her bare handed, but I got gloves. I need something else.”

“Gotcha.” Barbell flicked her head to the other side of the store. “Bodysuits sound good? We got some that feel like nothing’s there.”

“Sound excellent.”

“Ever heard of liquid latex? Dries in minutes, fits like a dream, and you can tear it off piece by piece later if you’re so inclined.”

Wolverine nodded enthusiastically. “You’re about to earn your commission.”

At check-out Wolverine almost lost his shit at the dollar amount that popped up on the register but, upon looking over his delightful collection of confections he hoped to decorate Rogue with, he considered it a long-term investment and plunked down the dinero. Just as Barbell, who was actually called Viper, stashed the last of his goodies into black and red bags, he remembered.

“My girl said there was a package here for me to pick up. Her name’s Rogue.” He was dying of curiosity to see what she’d gotten.

“Oh Rogue’s your girlfriend?” Viper perked up. “She is so cool, I should’ve guessed when you said the skin thing.”

“Yeh? She been in here before?” Oh ho, his girl had a dirty streak. Maybe he should go back for those leather straps.

“Nah, I came to Xavier’s my last year there,” Viper grinned at him as she pulled a brown paper wrapped package from under the counter and handed it to him. “She told to tell the guy who picked it up, and I quote, ‘Don’t’ you fucking dare open it or I’ll drain you’ end quote.” She grinned wickedly at Wolverine.

“Christ, she knows what I like,” he joked as he plucked at a loose edge of the plain wrapping.

“Nope!” Viper slapped his hand hard. “I’ll call her and tell her you peeked!”

“Women,” Wolverine huffed and stuffed the box into his duffle.

“Don’t you know it. See ya later Wolverine!” Viper chimed as he shuffled out the door with his now over-laden duffle.

Happily lugging his now full to bursting bag across the parking lot, Wolverine checked his watch. Yup, 45 minutes to get back to the Institute, shove down some lunch, give Rogue a her list shit and still get to shop class. His easy reverie came to a screeching halt when he turned the last corner of the parking lot and saw a supremely unpleasant sight sprawled across Rogue’s motorcycle.

“Vicky,” he said stiffly as he dropped the duffle with a thump and crouched down, fists clenches, claws itching to come out.

“Its Sabertooth,” the 18 year old snarled as he sat up on the bike and grimaced, displaying some seriously dangerous looking long and sharp canines.

Huh, easy to wind up the guy up. Good to know. “Whatever, VICKY,” he snarled, relishing the tension he saw scrawl up the much larger boy’s back and across his face.

“Shopping Wolverine? Get yourself some frilly panties?” Victor snarled sarcastically, his gaze falling on the black and red bag spilling out of the duffle. “Ah, Pleasure Principle. Me and Rogue had a lot of fun with that store.” He smirked knowingly and Wolverine’s itched to slide out. “Does it bother you, runt? To know you’re not the first.”

Wolverine snarled and took a few angry paces forward until he was within striking range of the guy he knew he was going to have whoop ass on in a few seconds.

“I know you got an animal in you, runt,” Victor continued sleekly, the nastiness dripping from every word. “Bet it drives you nuts to know some other guy already claimed your territory, your sweet little Rogue.”

“You shut the fuck up!” Wolverine growled, his voice dipping into the lower registers as something in the back of his mind howled in anger.

“To know she used wrap those sweet little legs around me and scream my-“

With a snarl Wolverine launched himself at the bigger guy. His unexpectedly swift reaction to Vicky’s taunt caught the blonde feral off guard and they both toppled over the motorcycle, which crashed to its side. Wolverine pummeled every inch he could reach, cursing a blue streak. His elbow made a satisfyingly loud crunching noise at it drove into Victor’s nose and the sight and stench of the bastard’s blood had the noise in his head scream with bloodlust. The blonde guy’s razor sharp nails scrabbled at his neck, drawing even more blood as they fastened around his throat and squeezed painfully.

“Hey! Break it up!” a voice shouted.

Wolverine paused with his claws an inch out of his skin and halfway to Victor’s gut to catch sight of a mall security guard. “Knock it off or I’ll pepper spray you both!” Sure enough the guy had a canister in the size of a small fire extinguisher in his hand.

Not something Wolverine wanted to try twice, the first time in juvie had been sheer hell and he’d snotted and puked for 6 hours afterwards. He raised both his hands and sat back from when he’d crouched over Victor, then stood up. “It’s cool, just fucking around, sir.”

“Yeh,” came the blonde feral’s voice from the ground. “Just fucking around.” Wolverine looked down to see Victor’s tongue lash out and lick the blood from his upper lip with an evil gleam in his eyes.

“Get the fuck outta here before I call the cops,” the guard barked as the hand holding the pepper spray swung back and forth between the two boys.

“No problem,” Wolverine huffed. He scooped up his duffle and flung it on his back, righted the bike and kicked it to life. He shot one last glare at Victor as the huge mutant stood up and smirked at him. “This ain’t finished, Vicky.”

“No, it ain't,” the feral agreed, a dangerous promise in the smile he directed at Wolverine’s back as the smaller teen roared off in a spray of gravel that peppered his chest. Sabertooth casually dusted himself off as he grumbled, “Not by a long shot, runt.”

After his scrap with the hairball, Wolverine didn’t have time to do anything but park the bike in the garage in a hurry, throw the duffle in his room, grab something from the vending machine for lunch, and run to the woodshop. Wouldn’t be cool to show up late from his first run off grounds, no point in riling Xavier up right now, he reminded himself as he stalked to his corner to work with the hand tools while the rest of the guys gathered around the power tools and proceeded to tear the shit out of anything that fit under a blade.

He continued to frown as his hands smoothly worked planes of the oak he’d decided on for his project. The run in with Vicky wasn’t what bothered him, he’d definitely had worse before, and his throat was already healed. It was the shit the guy’d said.

“Does it bother you, runt? To know you’re not the first.”

Wolverine was no unspoiled angel himself, so to hold Rogue’s history against her would make him a first rate hypocrite and not to mention a giant asshole. But the idea of her with that bastard sat heavy in his gut like a lump of lead. He knew his girl had a taste for walking on the wild side, but Vicky apparently tread the line between bad boy and psycho.

He couldn’t bring himself to dwell long on the idea of Rogue and that creep because the mental image that popped into his head made his jaw clench. She’d told him the guy hadn’t always been that way, something about being gone for a year and doing god knew what changed him.

Yeh, into a certifiable nut job with a clear death wish if he kept tangling with Wolverine.

Wasn’t Rogue’s fault her ex was an annoying fuckhead with a talent for jerking Wolverine’s chain. That was kinda the whole purpose of exes. Besides, Rogue was embarrassed and angry when he blonde feral showed up in her room, even kicked him in the nuts before she literally threw him out the door. Clearly, no love lost on her side.

Even though his brain was being all rational about it, it didn’t mean his gut liked it. Wolverine stamped down on the irrational jealousy that threatened to rise up. Rogue had had a life long before he waltzed into it, and he wasn’t going to make a big deal out it, even if he hated the bastard.

He decided just to try to forget about it, at least until the next time Victor decided to make an appearance. Instead Wolverine focused on the curve of the wood under his hand, the silky feel of the smoothed grain at his fingertips as he wedged two pieces he’d just glued together into a vice to set. He reached for a rung he’d been working on and a carving tool when a voice snapped his concentration.

“HEY!” He turned around. Think of the she-devil, and she shall appear.

“Hey darlin’ I was just-“

“Don’t you ‘hey darlin’” me!” Rogue thundered as she stomped towards him. The venom in her voice carried over even the table saw, which caught the attention of the other guys in the room and the electric screaming wound down as they watched her storm across the room.

The teen straightened up at her tone, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, what’s wrong? What’s wrong? You bring back my bike tore up all to fuck and you want to ask me WHAT’S WRONG?!” Rogue shouted. “Then you sneak off, don’t even have to guts to tell me to my face! I gotta find it myself!” Her face was red even as her eyes were cold and dark.

Wolverine bristled at her accusation, “I just got in! I didn’t have time to find you before shop. I was gonna-“

“Ha!” she sneered, “You were gonna tell me? When? Huh, when?” Oh, she was on a roll and the longer she went the more momentum she gained. He had to nip this shit in the bud; no one called him a liar.

“At dinner for fuck’s sake!” he snarled. “I wasn’t sneaking, and I ain’t lying, so you need to knock that shit off right now.”

“Don’t you fucking swear at me, you asshole!” Rogue raged. “I let you borrow it as a favor and you wreck it!!”

“You need to calm down so I can tell you what happened, see-“

“I don’t care what happened!” she snarked, cutting him off with a wave of her hand in his face. “It’s one of the few things I own, and you wrecked it! I can’t trust you! I can’t trust you with shit!!!” Her voice rose to a shriek by the end and the other guys in the shop slunk back.

“That’s a fucking leap from a scratch on your bike to you not trusting me, Rogue” Wolverine growled warningly. “That ain’t the same and you know it.” She was pushing him too far.

“Whatever,” she drawled with a sarcastic eye roll that made him see red. “I don’t care what-“

“ENOUGH!” Wolverine roared. The ferocity in his voice and the anger clearly lining his face stopped her mid-rant. “So what, you ain’t gonna listen to me?! What, I’m just your errand boy, huh?! Pick up your goddamned gloves, your fucking makeup, your mystery packages! I fucking cheer you up when you’re pissed off, buy you shit, even make fucking friends with Cyke, of all people, for US!” He pointed a finger in her face, bitterly.

Rogue’s open mouth snapped shut in surprise at his tirade.

Wolverine’s voice lowered into the low and dangerous register, his fury at her accusations seething into every word. “And you say you can’t trust me and you don’t care, yeh? Fine, I’m sick of being lead around by the dick. I liked you Rogue, but if you’re act like this and treat me like shit, then piss off.”

Breathing heavily with pulsing anger and wounded pride, he turned away from her, spun open the vice and took out the rocker he’d almost completed for the chair he’d been making for Rogue’s room. He looked down at it bitterly then snapped it over his knee and threw the two pieces to the floor before he stomped past a shocked and silent Rogue.

Once in his room, he tore open the duffle, ripped out the bags of her shit, and crushed them in his arms as he marched down the hall then threw all her stupid crap at her door. A bag tore open and gloves in many colors spilled across the floor.

Let her clean it up, he wasn’t going to do anymore favors for anyone who called him a liar and a sneak.

Wolverine was a lot of shit: a fighter, bad tempered, subtle as a bull in a china shop and twice as prone to destroying shit, but he did NOT lie to people he cared about. He didn’t have a lot but he didn’t have a sense of honor, that no matter what little he had in the world, no matter how many times his mouth or attitude got him in trouble, no many how many foster-system crapholes they locked him in, he had that one thing that no one could take from him.

No matter how much he liked Rogue he wasn’t going to lie down for her or anyone else to walk all over him, disrespect him.

He kicked his duffle over in fury then bared his teeth in a grimace as red and black bags tumbled out, taunting him with all the money he’d just wasted for something, for someone, that he’d been stupid enough to hope was right for him. Wolverine chided himself angrily as he stuffed the bags out of sight under the bed for not realizing by now he wasn’t the kind of guy good things happened for. He’d just been lucky it had lasted as long as it had. Shit didn’t work out for him, never did.

He was just glad he had receipts, he was gonna have to return all this stupid shit, he though ferociously as he kicked the last bag under the bed. Muttering to himself about his own naïveté at hoping he’d ever really had a chance to be with Rogue that way, or for the long haul, he tore through the rest of his bags until he found his CDs. Ripping off the plastic he shoved the Nine Inch Nails into the boom box he’d checked out of the library the other day and cranked the volume before flinging himself onto his bed to a sulk.

Hours passed and his mood darkened along with the sky outside as afternoon turned to early evening. He had no intention of going down for dinner and seeing her, still too stung by Rogue’s words and how she’d embarrassed him in front of the other guys in shop to want to see anyone. He flipped open his phone to dial Avalanche, get him to bring him some food when there was a tap at his door.

Wolverine almost ignored it but then smell of a hamburger wafted through over him and his desire to hide out was quashed by his hunger. He flung the door open with a grateful “Lanche, thanks man,” but came up short when he saw the huge Russian holding the tray.

“Thanks,” Wolverine grunted as he reached for the tray his other hand already on the door to close it.

“No problem. May I come in?” Colossus rumbled.

Wolverine sighed and jerked his head irritably to indicate the big guy could come inside, then slouched at his desk as he dug into the double portion dinner.

“I hear vhat Rogue did today,” Piotr observed. Wolverine snorted and continued to shovel fries into his mouth. The Russian regarded his smaller friend with a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. The Wolverine was obviously as stubborn as his girlfriend. “She vas not veddy nice.” Again silence from the other boy.

Piotr tried another tack, “You did not damage her bike veddy much, I think. I know someone in town who can fix-“

“I didn’t fuck up her bike! And I can fix it myself!” the other teen snarled then shut up. He didn’t have any intention of fixing it after the way Rogue had screamed at him, but the idea of sending it to someone else as if he couldn’t repair it rankled. Whatever, wasn’t his problem anymore since Rogue apparently thought he was a creep and his pants were on fire. Let the bike fucking rot for all he cared.

“Zen how did it get damaged?” Piotr rumbled as he reached over and took a handful of fries for himself.

Wolverine sighed and fisted a hand in his hair then confided the whole fucking mess to his large friend. When finished he growled in annoyance and shoved the rest of his burger into his mouth.

“You did the vight thing, my friend. Victor deserved to have his ass kicked,” the metal teen said sagely. Wolverine nodded sharply, at least someone understood. “No surprise you ver hurt when Rogue-“

“I ain’t hurt!” the dark teen snapped. “I’m pissed!” Ok, maybe a little hurt, but more he was mad. He’d almost gotten pepper sprayed over that girl, bought her a bunch of shit, and she had the nerve to scream at him and not even give him a chance to tell what happened, and she tells him he ain’t trustworthy. Ok, that one did hurt.

“Of course, dat is vhat I meant,” Colossus amended. “Vell, I must go. Open hours start soon, and Polaris asked me to see her.”

“You sure you wanna do that, bub?” Wolverine asked as he ribbed his friend hard. “She’s kinda clingy, y’know.”

“Da, but she can manipulate metal and you vould not believe how good if feels when she-”

“TMI dude!” Wolverine flung a hand into his pal’s face before he got a mental image he could live without

After finishing his food Wolverine kicked the dirty tray into the hall. Let some asshole deal with it. Sure enough, his door opened half an hour later and his winged warden poked his head in. “Here already? Good!”

Wolverine rolled his eyes. “Not like there’s anywhere where to be,” he groused.

Warren chuckled in an incredibly irritating way before he said, “You left your tray out here.”

“Not like I can take it down to the cafeteria right now,” Wolverine snapped as he tapped an imaginary watch on his wrist then walked over to the stereo and cranked the music back up. Warren huffed, his feathers ruffled in annoyance, then picked up the tray and shut Wolverine’s door a little harder than strictly necessary.

Wolverine lay down on his bed once again and kicked off his boots. He twiddled his thumbs, he whistled along with the music, he bounced his head against the pillow, oh fuck he was bored. What the hell was he supposed to go now? No girlfriend to entertain him with dirty talk on the phone, no exciting text messages or photos, nothing to do all night except to sit there and sulk.

Well, there was homework.

“Fuck,” Wolverine growled and hoisted himself up to gather his books from the floor as he slouched into the chair in front of the desk, opened calculus and started on his assignment. Even if everything else sucks it wouldn’t hurt to keep working on getting into Xavier’s good graces, at least for now. When the next M.U. came around he’d see what he could do about making enough cash to blow this joint for good.

If he cleaned up at the last fight, he’d buy a ride and hit the road. No reason to stick around anymore. A motorcycle was an idea but not very practical. A truck, with a camper shell, something he could sleep in. If he just stayed under the radar for another year and half he’d be 18 and the state would have to leave him the hell alone. Yeh, he could do that.

Then why was he wracking his brain to figure out question 17? Hell if he knew. Maybe some math skills might come in handy down the line. Then what was the point of the history book he was now leafing through to start his essay on the war of 1812? No idea, but history was kinda interesting, all those wars and assassinations, good stuff.

Wolverine groaned and thunked his head down on his desk. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to bail on this joint. He liked having his own room, 3 squares a day, had friends for once, real friends. Shit he hadn’t had before, all of it good.

If he didn’t have Rogue, well then fuck it, he had the rest of the stuff even if not having her twisted in his gut. He’d thought they were a matched set, two of a crazy kind. But if she didn’t get him, didn’t understand he didn’t do sneaky shit the sneaky she’d accused him of, if she thought he was an untrustworthy sack of shit then she wasn’t the girl for him. Wasn’t the girl he’d hoped she was.

Whatever. He’d figure out how to get past it later, tomorrow when he had to leave his room and see her. That thought twisted his insides twist again and the hamburger did a queasy little jig in his gut at the idea of having to see Rogue and not be with her. Fuck.

He pushed aside the dark thoughts and the tinge of hopelessness that squeezed his chest and focused on his essay, erasing his untidy scrawl in some points to refine his inelegant thoughts on some long ago political assassination. Another knock at the door and before he could snarl at whoever it was to get bent, it opened and Warren stuck his head in once again.

“Rogue wanted me to give this to you,” he said irritably. Wolverine stood up and took the nondescript package from him, hefted in his hand as though weighing it for a moment, then brushed past Angel to stand in his doorway. With a scowl he pitched the package down the hall where it thumped into Rogue’s door.

Angel’s smooth brow wrinkled. “Lovers’ spat, huh?” Any further questioning was silenced at the murderous look Wolverine gave him. Not waiting for the winged man to move, Wolverine threw his shoulder into the door and forced it closed, forcing the older mutant into the hallway with a shove and an indignant shout. Wolverine threw the lock then leaned against the door and thumped his head against it loudly a few times to pound out the frustration building between his ears as he heard Warren knock on Rogue’s door and speak softly to her. He couldn’t make out exactly what they said but the distressed tone of Rogue’s muted voice carried pretty damn well.

“Let her be pissy, join the club, we got fucking jackets” he thought savagely as he stomped back over to his desk and tried to bury himself once again under his mountain of homework. He turned up the volume on the stereo again to drown out everything else, but the anguished fuck song Nine Inch Nails was screaming didn’t help matters.

An hour went by as he wrestled with his irritation and anger and his history essay and he was about to throw in the towel on 1812 when a soft “Hey” in his ear made him jump out of his seat.

“Shit, gimme a fucking heart attack why don’t you?!” he growled at the girl standing behind him.

“Shhhhh!” Rogue flapped her hands for quiet and jerked her head back to the hallway where Warren sat on guard duty.

Wolverine lowered his voice as he sat back down in his chair and fixed his ex-girlfriend with a stony look he hoped conveyed his heart was not pounding in his chest from anything other than surprise, “What the fuck you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Great, every guy’s favorite words…wait, HOW the fuck did you get in here?!”

“Shhhhhhh!” Rogue hissed again, then sat on his desk and leaned down to speak quietly to him.

“I borrowed Kitty’s power for a little while, phased to the floor below then up again right there.” She pointed to a spot over his shoulder.

“What do you want?” he growled as he flipped open his math book again and tried to look anywhere but at Rogue. But it was pretty near impossible with her ass firmly parked on his notes, that nice tight little ass-

Wolverine growled at his pervy inner voice and reminded it he was pissed off, not horny. Ok, he was always horny, but anger was in the driver’s seat right now. But anger was also taking a look at that ass inches from his history essay.

“I’m sorry, sugar.” Rogue said softly. He kept his head down, he didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see her face because he knew it would weaken his resolve. “Hey,” she whispered as she covered his hand with her gloved on, cute little red wristlets he’s picked up at the mall for her today, “Colossus told me what happened with Victor. I know it wasn’t your fault. I should have let you explain.”

Wolverine closed his eyes and sighed. Damnit, why did she make being pissed at her so damn difficult? He sat back, but kept his eyes closed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. Nope, not going to look at her, not even a little bit, even as his lids cracked a millimeter and he saw her sitting on his desk with her head down, gloved hands twisting her lap.

He didn’t say anything, just waited. The ball was in her court. Finally, the ongoing silence got to Rogue and she sighed and scratched the back of her neck in discomfit. “I shouldn’t have said that junk to you. I was saw the bike and just went ape shit. That wasn’t cool.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Wolverine grunted in agreement. He opened his eyes finally and looked at her dead on. “You called me a liar, and I ain’t ever lied to you, Rogue. Not about anything.”

She caught his gaze and something in it made her blush. “When I get mad I shoot off my mouth before my brain gets going.”

“Know how that is. But you gotta understand something, Rogue,” Wolverine said quietly as he stood up and in front of her, looking her dead on. “I ain’t never said that kinda shit to you, much less in front of other people. You get what I’m saying?” She had the good grace to hang her head in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t. I don’t slag off the people I care about.”

“You care about me?” Rogue lifted her head and gave him a small hopeful smile.

“Dunno right now.” Her face fell and it made something in his chest tighten. “I gotta know something and you tell me straight. Do you trust me? I mean really trust me?”

He stared her down and he could tell she took his words seriously and steadied herself to give him an honest answer. “I do, I trust you Wolverine.”

He sighed in relief and lowered his hands to squeeze her knees lightly. “Good.”

“We cool?” Rogue rested her hands over his and twinned their fingers together.

Wolverine grunted, “Yeh, we’re cool.” And he leaned forward and rested his chin on the top of her head, protected by her hair. Damnit, he’d planned to stay mad at her longer than this, but she was so sincere, not a trace of deceit on her.

“So that was our first fight, huh?” He heard the humor in Rogue’s voice and felt her smile against his shirt.

“Guess so, don’t have much experience with the whole relationship thing,” he admitted awkwardly. Fuck he didn’t think he’d ever been in a real one. Did fuck buddies constitute a relationship? Probably not, especially since after the first screaming match he never saw the chicks again.

Rogue raised her head and that familiar glint of mischief shone and made a few goose bumps rise on his arms. “Oh, so we’re in a ‘relationship’ now?” she grinned.

“Damnit, woman,” Wolverine growled as his hand gripped her arm tightly and pulled her firmly to his chest, “You trying to pick another fight?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “Means we get to make up.” She leaned up and kissed him right below his ear and hell if a zing went down his spine and made him give a little jerk against her.

“Damn right,” he agreed and hauled her legs up and around his waist. “Let’s get to making up.”

“Wolverine, who are you talking to?” Warren’s voice sounded on the other side of the door. The doorknob jiggled and thank fuck Wolverine had locked the door when he threw out Angel earlier.

Rogue phased right through his arms and disappeared through the floor as Wolverine dug his cell phone out of his pocket and held it to his ear as he dashed across the room to throw open the door.

“Hang on Lanche,” he grunted to the dial tone in his ear as he quirked an irritated eyebrow at Warren. “What?” he said irritably. Damn it to hell if the winged man didn’t have the worst timing ever.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone,” Angel said suspiciously as he looked around the room.

“Duh,” Wolverine deadpanned and pointed to the phone cradled between his chin and ear. “Call you back, man” he said to the empty phone and snapped it shut. He leaned against the doorjamb as Warren looked around his empty room then walked over to the bathroom and flung the door open.

“No one here,” Angel announced.

“I could’ve told you that,” the dark teen growled moodily as the man looked over his desk and lifted a few stray pages of homework and rifled through them.

“Glad to see you’re using this time constructively, getting your grades up,” he said smugly. Wolverine shrugged. Well he’d meant to spend the evening doing all that responsible junk, but now he had other plans, at least he did if Rogue managed to sneak back here.

No dice. Soon as Warren left he called his now on-again girlfriend, but she sighed moodily into the phone, “I used up the last of Kitty’s power. He just banged on my door too, so I was lucky to get back.”

“Fuck!” Wolverine swore.

“Hmm, not tonight,” Rogue whispered in a silky way that had his ears perking up.

“Guess making up will have to wait, yeh?” he growled in what he hoped was a sexy voice, but he thought it came out more sounding like he had a sore throat.

“Oh, I dunno about that. Mmmmm, if I was there I’d just lay myself across your bed with a smile. Crook my fingers, ask you to come over to me,” she purred and something started at the base of Wolverine’s spine.

“Damnit, girl, don’t tease me like that!” he snapped. God, what a thought, Rogue spread across his bed, beckoning him closer. He could get down with that.

“Sugar, if I was there I wouldn’t be teasing,” she sighed and he heard a rustle of cloth. “I’d let you watch while I took off ev-ery-thing.” Rogue lingered over that last word and hell if he couldn’t see it clear as day in his horny little teenage mind.

“Yeh? Why don’t you gimme a sneak peak?” he encouraged.

“Halfway there sugar. I’m lying on the bed, just pulling my shirt up over my head so you can see whatever you want.” Damn if there wasn’t another rustle. Wolverine had a pretty good notion she was doing exactly that in her own room just feet away down the hall.

“Christ, I wanna see those tits. I bet you got on that purple bra, don’t you? I like the purple one.”

“Nah, I ain’t even wearing a bra today,’ she giggled.

“Crap, wish I’d known that when you were here a few minutes ago,” he sighed as he eased onto his own bed and lay back. “I like your tits, soft, smooth, I bet they taste fantastic.” His own hand wandered up under his shirt to sweep across his abs as he listened to Rogue’s breath hitch.

“I’m on your bed, half-naked, just waiting for you sugar. Tell me what you want to do.”

“It’s like that, huh?” Alright, phone sex it was. Way better than homework, that was for sure. Wolverine yanked his own shirt over his head and resettled as he cradled the phone against his ear. “Alright….I’m sitting down next to you, not lying down yet, just wanna look at you, all of you. God, you got nice skin.” His hand traced unintelligible patterns against his chest as he closed his eyes and thought how white and pale she had to be, hidden under clothes all the damn time.

“Some people don’t think it’s so nice,” Rogue reminded him with a wistful sigh.

“Fuck what other people think, only I get to see it, get to touch it!” he growled forcefully.

“Mmmm, sugar, I love it when you get all possessive. Like I’m yours.”

“You are, darlin. I reach out one hand and run my fingers real soft like over your stomach, real slow up and down until you’re kinda squirming and you want me to move higher, touch you more.” He paused and grinned at the breathy sound she made. “You want me to?”

“Yeah, sugar. I want your hands on me.”

“Where do you want them? You gotta tell me. I’ll do it if you ask.” Damn, this was getting good. He was half hard and all they’d exchanged was a few words.

“I want you to slide both your hands up, cups my breast, use your thumbs, ahhh, tease my nipples…” Rogue’s breath came a little faster.

“You touching yourself, darling?”

“Hmmm, I’m imagining it’s you, oh feels nice…”

“It’s me, I like those nipples, like cherries, I just wanna pop one in my mouth. Bet it’s sweet. That’s what I do, I lean over, not touching any other part of you, not yet. God, you taste so good darling, so sweet. You get a little hard in my mouth and it’s fucking awesome knowing I make you feel that way. You like it?”

“Yessssss,” Rogue’s voice hissed down the line and it raised the hair on the back of his neck. “You just flick my nipple with your tongue, back and forth. Oh god, it feels amazing. Ah,aaah...bite it please, just a little,” she begged.

“Damn right, just a little nip, a little pain to go with the pleasure. My other hand just sliding over your other breast, god it’s soft, perfect size. I love feeling it under my touch. You love it?” Rogue gave a little moan that told him all he needed to know. “I gotta have a taste of that one too. I don’t lick, I just suck it into my mouth, I gotta have it all, have all of you girl,” Wolverine moaned as he reached down and unzipped his fly to give the old man some breathing room. “Mmmm, love the taste of you, Rogue. I gotta have more.”

“Sugar, you can have all you want, just don’t stop, tell me more. God, I’m getting so hot,” she implored.

“You get me hot, Rogue. Your tits, I could spend all night on them and not get tired, but I think you want something more that just my mouth...hot, wet, teasing your tits, licking your nipples, biting a little. It makes you sigh…yeh just like that little one you just gave. I dig it, so hot.” The words tumbled out of him without thought, flowing smoothly just like his lips would glide over Rogue's flesh, natural, slick, and so fucking hot he was starting to perspire. “You want more?”

“Yes, yes, sugar, gimme more, tell me what you’re doing to me. Jesus, making me sweat baby.”

“I don’t ever leave you tits alone, they’re too nice to be ignored, but I start easing one hand down and enjoy the skin on your ribs, those little ripples are sexy as hell. You’re a little ticklish, I bet, right there. Yeh, I hear you giggle, god that’s fucking sweet. But that’s not what I want. A little lower, lower...oh yeh right there. You getting wet? I think you’re getting wet," he growled and when she responded with something that wasn't quite words he knew he was spot on. "I gotta get these damn pants offa you because they’re in the way and you’re dying for me to touch you, right? Tell me.”

“Shit, yes!” Rogue laughed, “Took you long enough, I took my pants off 5 minutes ago!”

He chuckled, “Impatient? You want me to touch you, real bad? You gotta tell me, or I won’t know what to do.”

“You pull my pants off, but you don’t jump right to it, you take your time, just running your hands up my legs, starting at my ankles, touching my calves, real soft, real gentle, god so nice....” Fucking-a, her voice was killing him, he felt like he was gonna have a damn heat stroke the way she was raising the temperature.

“Hell yeh, I wanna know every inch of your skin, and it ain’t just my hands. I gotta taste every piece of you. You got these slim ankles, I seen them when you jeans ride up. I can circle them with my hands easy and I pressssss” he hissed and she answered with a sigh, “right into that little spot by your Achilles’ tendon. Bet you didn’t know how good that could feel.”

“Oh, no,” she breathed, her voice wanton and sexy, “God sugar, you’re making me feel shit I didn’t know.”

“I wanna know it all darlin, all of ya. I’m taking my time, gonna memorize every curve you got. Your calves, they’re strong and sexy as hell, I can feel the muscle under your beautiful skin, and I just think about how they’d feel wrap around my waist. I gotta keep touching you, I can't help it, I can't stay away.”

“Please, touch…yes, touch,” Rogue plead. God, just those simple words and Wolverine’s heart was pounding.

“You got this spot right behind your knee that look fucking edible and I gotta lick it. God, you taste so nice, I could drown in your taste. All heat and sass and my girl, damn it I gotta take a bite. You jump a little because I surprised you.”

“But I like it, I do, god, gimme some more baby,” Rogue begged in between soft sighs that raised gooseflesh on his arms. Wolverine mentally patted himself on the back; he was a freaking natural at phone sex if he did say so himself.

“That spot behind your knee, I think it’s my favorite spot on your body right now, it smells like you, hot, spicy, warm. Damn, it’s a good place to hang out for a while,” he teased.

Rogue made a frustrated sound in his ear, “Don’t take too long, sugar. God, I’m just dying thinking about you moving higher.”

“I wanna make you squirm, make you holler my name when I bite you a bit, I love the way you say my name. Say for me, c’mon,” Wolverine urged as his own hand reached down and grabbed his cock, god he needed that.

“C’mon Wolverine, make me feel good, ooh baby, right there, mmmmmmm, Wolverine” she moaned.

“You skip ahead, Rogue? You being bad? You gotta a hand in your panties, girl?” What a thought, one Wolverine decided he’d save up for later, the idea of her working her body at his words, for him.

“God sugar, you can’t keep making me wait like this, I gotta have your tongue on me baby, please,” she panted.

She was making him pant. “Alright, you asked so nice, about to set me on fire with that dirty talk darlin,” he growled. “Fuck, I can’t wait anymore, your sexy little pants and hot moans, saying my name, I can’t hold back. I move up and god almighty...you got such a gorgeous pussy, pink and wet and tight...I gotta taste it darlin. Shit, you’re wet already and it’s the sweetest I ever had. I gotta lick every inch of ya....fuck girl you’re making me so fucking hard!” he snarled into the phone, gripping his cock so tight it almost hurt, sliding his fist roughly up and down and his hips left the bed a few inches on the upstroke.

“Oooooh, god, you make me so wet Wolverine, fuck I can’t take it, your tongue flicking my clit, jesus!” Rogue made a little squeal that made him up the tempo harder on his own body, bucking in time with the little hot breaths she dripped in his ear. “Ah, suck it sugar, suck it please, hard, gotta suck it…” Her last words were lost to breathy moans and vulgar whispers that thrilled him to no end.

“Ah, ah, oooohhhh,” he groaned into the phone as he jerked harder, wishing it was her ear and he could stick his tongue in it. “I fucking latch onto your clit and suck hard, nibble it a little and you’re coming, oh Christ you’re coming so good, my girl, sweet tasting, fuck you’re dripping down my chin and I gotta lap it up, can’t waste any of it,” Wolverine panted like a locomotive in time with Rogue’s increasing moans that sounded through the phone and fuck if he couldn’t hear her down the hall.

“Fuck darling, I can hear you in your room, hear you through the door, come for me, lemme hear ya lose it with me eating your gorgeous tasty pussy like fucking dessert, making you crazy." He felt himself so close, god so fucking close, he couldn't take it much longer. "Shit girl! So hot, dripping wet, I fucking drink you up! Love it, love it! Scream it!” Wolverine shouted then threw his head back as he jacked furiously. The phone tumbled from his ear as he closed his eyes and god if his girl didn’t deliver and holler his name to high heaves so fucking loud there was no mistaking it through the door as she came like a freight train.

Even the sound of Angel banging on her door and shouting what the fuck was going on couldn’t stop either of them, and Wolverine came in so hard his spine bowed and he made a unholy gushing mess on his jeans and hand.

As he tried to catch his breath Wolverine grabbed the phone with his unsticky hand and grinned at the sound of Rogue’s last gasps as her ferocious orgasm wound down, then an irritable screech at Warren, who was still pounding on her door.

“Fuck Warren, WHAT?!” she shouted. He heard it both down the phone and the hall as she scrambled out of bed. He jumped out of his own bed and poked his head into the hall then leaned against the doorway to see her fling her own door open as she roughly dragged a shirt over her head.

“What the hell was that racket, Rogue?” Warren said roughly as he shoved her door open.

“It’s called an orgasm, Warren!!!! Is there a rule against masturbating now?!?!” Rogue shouted into Angel’s shocked face.

Wolverine’s mouth dropped open at her words. If he hadn’t known she was perfect before he sure as shit knew it now. And damn if she didn’t look and smell like 100% perfection and positively edible to boot. The heady scent of her fresh arousal wafted down the hall and right to him, almost knocking him back with its powerful and delectable taste. Her hair was messed up something sexy, ebony and silver strands sticking to one sweaty cheek and her shirt was only half on, one shoulder and half a boob hanging out. He grinned at the sight of her wearing only a pair of red panties on her bottom.

Angel backed away in horror and embarrassment at Rogue’s language and her undressed state. “What? Ain’t you ever heard a girl come before?” she snarked at the teacher, who turned bright red and kept stepping back like she was radioactive.

Wolverine couldn’t help it, he started laughing. Rogue leaned around Angel's form to shoot a fierce grin and a wink at him. To top it off her boob fell out of her shirt, and he got a nice long leer at it before she leisurely tucked it back in. He was right, her nipples did look like cherries, pink and tight and he couldn't wait to taste one for real.

Warren whirled on Wolverine. “Hey, I was right here the whole time,” the dark teen answered with a cocky grin of his own and held up both hands in mock surrender. “Haven't left my room, Scout’s honor.” He waggled his cell phone meaningfully and Angel’s eyes narrowed into annoyed slits.

The winged man grumbled, “As if you were ever a Scout. And for god’s sake put some clothes on, both of you!”

Wolverine looked down at his bare chest and fly still down. He shrugged, “Sorry. But count yourself lucky, I usually walk around starkers in my room.”

“I wanna see that,” Rogue teased just before Angel slammed her door shut in her face. Wolverine cackled before closing his own door.

His phone rang a moment later. “That was unbelievably hot, sugar,” Rogue’s husky voice sounded in his ear, stirring him to life once again. "You got a potty mouth, and it's pretty nice."

“Me? Fuck, I can’t believe you said that to Warren!” Wolverine laughed in response. “That was so cool.”

“Yeh, well, I was hoping to go for multiples and he interrupted,” Rogue sassed.

“You ready for round two, darlin? I'm game now that I got a nice picture of you in my head all sweaty, wearing just those little panties. But I got something better than that. Think you’ll like it.”

“Yeh?” Rogue’s voice perked up. “Tell me.”

“Well, I did say I was gonna get you a present in town today. Got these bodysuits, and there’s this black one that I think you’ll really like.”

For rest of the evening and well into the next morning, Wolverine and Rogue unwrapped, slowly and with infinitely creative language, his gifts from Pleasure Principle. They tried them out in every way their dirty little minds could think of and a few that hadn’t occurred to either of them until that moment.

By the time Rogue signed off with a sleepy “Mmmm, g'night lover,” both of Wolverine’s wrists were sore and his sheets were a fucking mess.

Without even touching him tonight, Rogue gave him the most mind-blowing orgasms of his life. Wolverine wobbled to the shower on shaky legs and flopped onto the floor as the water pounded over him, relaxing every muscle until he almost fell asleep on the tile. With his last ounce of energy he dragged himself to the bed and collapsed with a sated sigh.

Rogue was fucking incredible. He’d ever met anything or anyone like her before, she was definitely one of a kind. Imaginative, playful, fierce, strong, and softly sensual all in one. Amazing.

Wolverine hugged a pillow to his chest and wished it was her, in his arms and all wrapped up in on of those bodysuits, pasted to his side so he could wake up every morning with her. The way she talked, the way she lit him on fire and danced in the glow, damn he loved it all, loved her.

Wait…what?

Before he could ponder that last crazy thought any further sleep took him down.

Sorry to disappoint you but it's not a new chapter. I've been moving into a new house and it's taken over my whole life for the last month. I hope when I get finally 100% done this weekend and get the internet up and running at my new place I'll update Mutant High in the next week.

I'm not going back to Don't Let Me Catch You until I've finished Mutant High. I've developed a nasty habit of dropping stories half-way through to start new ones, so I've resolved not to do that again. Thanks for your patience and feedback.

Mutant High will have 5-7 more chapters then it will be done and I plan to have them all done by the end of June.

If I don't then sick Sabertooth on me! :)