It's getting so lonely inside this bed
Don't know if I should lick my wounds or say woe is me instead

Turn Off the Light - Nelly Furtado

~*~

This was just what she needed. Rogue knew that she couldn't always run up to her room to shower after a mission, but all she wanted to do this time was flop down on the bed and relax. Tonight, it would take too much effort to shower, redress and then make her way upstairs.

Turning off the water, she dried herself off before wrapping the towel around her body and heading back into her bedroom. It wasn't quite time to turn in yet, but she was done for. Stretching out on the bed, she wondered how the other X-Men did this all the time and then taught classes the next day. She ached in places she hadn't before, even after four years on the junior team.

She opened one eye to look at the door when she heard the knock. "Go away," she groaned.

"Not until I check on you, Darlin'." Logan flashed her a smile as he stepped into the room. "Besides, if you don't want company, you should lock the door."

"Well, now that you know I'm still alive, you can leave and let me sleep." She pulled the pillow over her face when he turned the bedside light on. "Honestly Logan, it's just bruises, scrapes and sore muscles."

He lifted the pillow to peer at her. "First fight's the toughest."

She closed her eyes again as he tossed the pillow on the bed. "Are the Friends of Humanity always that disorganized?" she asked.

"Nay, those were wannabees. The real FOH have their shit together and put up a pretty good fight."

A shiver ran through her body when Logan laid his hand on her thigh right below the towel. She knew he was only looking at the large welt there, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted his touch to mean more than it did. Wanted his hand to creep up her thigh.

That thought made her angry, helping her to force back the desire she felt. They had 'the talk' every couple of months and she didn't want to hear it tonight. She knew he wasn't interested, he told her every time.

His voice broke into her thoughts, "…fix that, if you want."

Rogue shifted uncomfortably. It had been years since she had absorbed Logan, since she had felt his presence in her mind. His voice had faded with time and she missed the overall comfort of having him there. As tempting as it was, she knew it wouldn't help their friendship.

"No." It sounded too forceful and she found herself wanting to explain. "If I'm going to be part of the team, I need to learn to roll with the punches like everyone else."

He patted her knee and smiled. "Why don't you turn over and I'll give you a massage. It'll be like old times." She tensed and frowned. Logan's brow furrowed like he was trying to understand her hesitation. That hurt worse than his suggestion. Evidently, what had been a milestone in her life was a forgotten memory in his. "It will help you relax, Marie. I promise."

She caved when he promised, Rogue did every single time. Just as her pout could sway him, his promises did the same to her. She rolled to the middle of the bed on her stomach, almost losing the towel in the process. The bed dipped again as he knelt beside her. She didn't even bother to suppress the moans as he began working the knots out of her shoulders. Logan was right, it was relaxing, and she felt herself drifting off.

---

It had been just over a year ago that Rogue gave Logan the last massage after a mission. She even had a special pair of gloves, soft silk. She knew he enjoyed the cool feel of them slide over his body. She'd noticed his erection that day and mistook it for something it wasn't. Her obvious pass was met with 'the talk'.

He made it abundantly clear it had nothing to do with her skin. She told him she understood before escaping to the solitude of her room, where she cried herself to sleep.

The next morning Rogue took off his tag, tucking it and the gloves into her keepsake box, the whole time vowing to herself that she would learn control so she could find someone else willing to touch her. In the end it made no difference. Mastering her mutation never lessened her love for him.

---

He lay down on the bed next to her, laughing lightly, as she mumbled something about him becoming a masseur. Logan couldn't remember when he first noticed her transformation from the shy teenager to the confident woman. He had held a deep affection for her since they first met. It was different, more intense than he felt for anyone else. He never stopped to analyze it, he was just happy Marie was willingly to accept what he felt comfortable offering her.

He was ready to leave when she turned, spooning into him, sighing contently. It felt right, her in bed next to him, pressing her body into his. He'd learned to ignore her arousal for him early on, but this time his body reacted as he breathed in her scent. His hand strayed to her hip, as the curve of her ass made contact with his erection. His eyes drifted back up her body, exposed to his view when the towel had fallen away as she'd turned.

---

Logan stumbled out of the bed, almost falling, as he struggled with the blanket that had some how tangled itself around his feet. Freeing himself, he used the blanket to cover all that creamy flesh laid bare before him. He needed to hide Marie's skin to alleviate the temptation to cover every inch of it with his mouth, again.

He scrubbed his face with both hands; exhaling slowly he began to pull on his jeans and t-shirt. How many times had he turned down her advances? How often had he embarrassed her with their talks? Or trivialized her desire for him? All because he didn't want to find out what lay beyond the edginess he felt when she touched him or looked at him with eyes full of need.

He was a bastard. He turned that over in his mind. Not only was he a bastard, he was a stupid one. He would bet money that Marie could add a few names to the list. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised that she still held onto their friendship.

As much as he wanted to, Logan knew taking off for a couple of days of drinking wasn't going to help. He had a lot of thinking to do and he could do that here as well as anywhere else. He stole one last look at her, already snuggled into the blanket, before he left her room.

---

Everything was going fine, well as good as could be expected on a mission. Rogue stole a glance at Logan as he fought one of the men on the back loading dock of the warehouse. They hadn't talked in a week, not since that night. She had tried to convince herself that she was giving him time to sort things out. In reality she didn't want to have one of their 'talks'.

She turned her full attention back to her fight, but her assailant was fleeing. Logan landed another solid punch to the other man, who must have decided to hightail it out of there also. Only in his rush, he ran head first into Rogue as she was turning, sending both of them off the edge of the loading dock.

She came to, staring at the night sky at the bottom of a jumble of bodies. Her body felt numb and she couldn't catch her breath. The fall was probably only six feet at the most; Rogue reasoned that the wind got knocked out of her.

Immediately upon seeing the fear in Logan's eyes as he pulled the man's body off of her, she reassessed that. A feeling of dread started to sweep over her as the pain began to burn its way up her back. His lips were moving, but she didn't need to process the words to understand what he wanted her to do.

His bare hands were cupping her face and she let her skin soak in his healing. His smile never faltered from the moment the connection opened until he lost consciousness.

Rogue let Storm lead her back to the jet as Scott and Jean struggled to get an unconscious Logan strapped in. Rogue would have laughed if she weren't so worried.

She sorted through those thoughts that had been at the front of Logan's mind during the transfer. What she found made her want to laugh, cry, and scream all at the same time. Mostly she just wanted to kick his ass when he woke up. He had known she wasn't hurt badly, his heightened senses told him that much. Her first impressions of her injuries had been correct.

Logan had panicked.

Rogue sat nervously fidgeting in Jean's office chair in the med bay. Rogue's mind had cleared enough by the time they got back to the mansion for her to help Scott with Logan's gurney. Jean had let Rogue stay as she did her initial check on Logan. After it was apparent that they were only waiting for him to regain consciousness, Jean left Rogue at his bedside while Jean went to change out of her uniform.

"Hey."

"Don't hey me, dumbass."

Logan wrinkled his forehead in concentration. "About that…"

She cut him off. "You don't talk to me for a week and then pull some unnecessary live-saving shit and go down in a heap. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I made a mistake."

"You're damn right you made a mistake." She stopped mid-rant, finger still poking his chest, "Wait. You what?"

"I made a mistake. Actually, I've made quite a few this past year."

She eyed him suspiciously, "Like what happened last week?"

He smiled, taking hold of the hand still near his chest. "No, that is probably the only thing that has been right."

"Oh." Rogue stared at her hand where he was running soothing patterns with this thumb. "We don't need to have 'the talk', do we?"

"No. I'm done talking," Logan said as he pulled her down for a kiss.

~*~