Rogue sat in the kitchen at midnight, an untouched bowl of ice cream slowly melting under her spoon. Deep in thought, she barely heard the footfalls as Bobby rounded the corner. Smiling at him, she shoved the bowl toward him, “This ought to put the chill back in your bones after tonight’s fireworks.”
“Thanks,” he grinned and took the bowl, slurping up the melted cream from the edge of the bowl, then reached for her spoon and scooped a good mouthful.
“I’m so glad...” Bobby mumbled at the exact same moment Rogue said, “I don’t think...” They both waited for the other to speak, then each shrugged and Bobby started again.
“I’m so glad you weren’t there tonight. I couldn’t handle it if you had been hurt on my watch, and especially since you can’t...” he hesitated for a breath before finishing his thought, “since you can’t tap into Logan’s healing power any more. Now, what were you going to say?”
Rogue stared hard at the counter top, wishing there were hidden lines of the speech she should give now, waiting there to prompt her. Tracing her fingertip over the woodgrain, she breathed deeply and steeled herself for the moment she’d been dreading.
“I don’t think we should keep dating. It’s getting uncomfortable for both of us, and it seems to me like we’re in a rut, like our dating is just a habit, and neither one of us is getting any real satisfaction or joy out of it,” she jerked her eyes toward his face when she heard the spoon hit the counter. His face was tense but his eyes were blank. She rallied her courage and went on.
“I know you’re interested in Kitty. I see the way you look at her, touch her, talk to her. You don’t need to hide it or feel guilty about it, because you know that I’m more than friends with Logan, too. We both need to face facts, accept them, and move on to find what we both want, because it’s not each other.” She waited for him to respond, but he said nothing.
“I know the ring you gave me isn’t any kind of a ‘relationship’ ring, and it’s personalized, and all that, but if you’d rather I didn’t have it, I’ll get it right now and give it back to you.”
His voice came out in tight, hard, brittle words, “Why would I want anything with your name on it? Keep it, I don’t care what you do with it.” He rose abruptly from the table and stalked toward the door, turning once to speak over his shoulder before disappearing into the darkened hallway, “Your timing sucks, by the way.”
“I know it does, because I waited too long to speak my mind,” she said to the empty room.
*
Shelly grabbed her journal and started scribbling notes under the day’s date. ‘Romeo gets dumped, but where will Juliet sleep tonight?’ Tapping the pen against her perfect teeth, she jotted another line. ‘How can we use Romeo’s broken heart? Is there anything to be gained from him? Probably not. He’s dull; pretty to look at, but dull.’ Snapping the book shut, she laid across the bed and focused on the strands of her blonde hair that encircled the foot of Logan’s bed.
The television was on, some sporting event from the tinny sounds of occasional cheering, and the occasional burst of live, crisp swearing from the surly, dark-haired mutant. ‘Former mutant,’ she corrected herself mentally with a smug smile. She heard a clink, something small and metallic hitting something hard. A bottle cap? Refocusing on the hallway, she heard light footsteps coming from the kitchen, up the stairs, second flight, and into the teacher’s hallway. ‘Ah, Little Miss Rogue, right on schedule,’ thought Shelly. Half-tuning into Logan’s room again, she got the particular enjoyment of hearing the tap on his door in stereo, part from the room, and part from the hall. Practicing the cellular hearing was paying off in near surround-sound!
*
Logan rose from the bed and opened the door to Rogue’s slightly-shaken expression. Stepping back silently, he allowed her entrance to the room, closing and locking the door for privacy.
Not knowing what to expect, Logan waited for Rogue to speak first. With one palm pressed tight to her chest, it took her a few breaths before she finally smiled, held herself straighter, and said, “I did it. I’m a free woman. I just ended it with Bobby.”
Maintaining a poker face, Logan inquired, “How did he take it?” and swigged another drink of his beer.
“Not well,” Rogue muttered as she watched the bottle raise and lower, knowing he wasn’t supposed to drink on the prescription medication, but she resisted mentioning it. “He’s angry, and hurt, and I think jealous, too. I told him I knew about him and Kitty, that it was no big secret, and we just weren’t fulfilling each others’ needs, so there was no point in continuing since neither one of us was happy. I was as truthful and tactful as I could be, but he still stomped out of the room.”
“Yeah, well... it’s not easy hearing stuff like that, I suppose, especially at his age. He’ll get over it. How are ‘you’ handling it?”
“I’m all over the place,” Rogue commented, noting a slight distance in Logan’s eyes and stance, like he was observing from a neutral point, with no emotional attachment of any kind. It was strange, but maybe it was his own unique way of handling highly-charged emotions. She continued, “I’m sad that I apparently hurt him, and elated that I found the guts to end it, and so incredibly relieved that it’s over, like a weight’s been lifted from me. I know I probably shouldn’t feel like this, but I want to celebrate somehow. I want to dance on the roof, or ride topless on your bike, or do something wild! I’m near to bustin’, sugar!”
That brought a grin to Logan’s face, “You topless on the back of my bike is likely to get us both either killed, or in jail. Let’s go for the dance on the roof,” he reached for her hand and started toward the door.
“Are you serious? You don’t dance!”
Grabbing a portable radio off a side table, he grinned at her, “I’m serious, darlin’. Let’s go.”
With an oldies station tuned in, Rogue breathed in the starlight and started a hair-tossing bump-n-grind to “My Sharona” that made Logan chuckle and step aside with a heated appreciation in his eyes, standing quietly while Rogue worked off some energy. Laughing and swinging her hair in a fan around her head, she made a few elegant spins and reached for his hand to dance with her.
“Sorry, darlin’ - that’s not music for dancing in the dark. Let’s try another station.”
Tuning the radio to an even older oldies station, Rogue heard the haunting, smoky strains of a slow 50's do-wop tune float on the night air. Logan stepped to her side, sliding an arm around her waist as she turned into his embrace. She rarely danced close to anyone, and never a slow dance with a grown man, so her confidence dropped immediately and she let him lead her into the simple, intimate circling steps. Logan wasn’t an elegant dancer, but he was graceful and strong, and held her close as they drifted around the roof, arms wrapped around each other.
“What’s the name of this song?” Rogue asked, then nuzzled against Logan’s shoulder, nearly humming with happiness.
“You’re askin’ me? I don’t remember as many years as you’ve lived,” he commented with a little sarcasm, “but by chance I do know this one, ‘I Only Have Eyes for You.’ It’s old. I don’t know how I know that, but I know it.”
“You think the memory is a flashback of some kind? From your past? Or maybe just a bit of music trivia you picked up along the way?”
“Dunno, I just like it.” Logan gently took her hand and guided her through a slow, sensuous twirl, then scooped her back against him again, “I’ve been wanting to ask a favor.”
“Ask. Ask anything. I’m really, really pliant right now,” Rogue sighed against his throat.
“I could take that several different ways,” Logan said and dipped her backwards. Rogue laughed and leaned trustingly against the strong forearm that cupped her low back, until her hair brushed the floor, then rolled back up his body to press against his chest as they continued the slow dance. The song ended and changed to another, slightly faster beat, so they walked to the roof’s edge and looked off over the grounds. “I want to take one of your classes.”
“What?! Wh... Mine?” She babbled, “What can I possibly teach you?”
“You’re teaching Pop Culture, subbing for Storm, right?”
“Wuh, yeah...” she mumbled, still flabbergasted by his request.
“I need Pop Culture. Teach me.”
“But....but, why? What good would that do you?”
Logan turned and leaned his hip against the roof’s wall, crossing his arms and studying her face. “Things changed after Alcatraz. Xavier had tried sorting some things out of my head. He wanted me to do it myself, but even with a little telepathic ‘encouragement’ from him, we didn’t get anything more than what was already coming back through the drea... uh, nightmares.” He tightened his expression over that thought, but continued.
“Jean tried, too. Again, nothing that we didn’t already know. Now, with them both gone, we have no telepaths, no one to sort around in my head. I gotta try something else, some way of maybe triggering memories. I thought your Pop Culture class might do that, ya know; anything back past fifteen years or so. I’d like to sit in one a few of the classes. You okay with that?”
Rogue pondered a moment, mostly to tease him into relaxing, “Well, it sounds like a legitimate reason to me, but will you promise to behave yourself in class?”
“Not one paper wad, not one passed note. I’ll even clean up my language. A little, at least; maybe,” and he winked at her.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me. You are now enrolled in Rogue’s School of Popular Culture. Maybe you’ll become a Rogue Scholar,” she kissed him softly on the throat.
“Thanks, baby. Oh, and we’re not having sex tonight.”
Rogue nearly fell stunned to the floor at his off-handed comment, “I beg your pardon? What did you just say?”
“We are not having sex tonight.”
“Okay, I’m not hallucinating. Mind telling me why?”
“You’re on overload. It’s too soon. And as much as it kills me to say this, I want to wait until my stitches come out. I...” he sighed deeply and regarded his stitched hands, then refocused. “I want to put my hands all over you, and it’s gonna be scratchy until they come out. And you’re still too cranked up about dumping Drake, so it’s not a good night for sex, at least not the first time.”
“I did NOT dump Bobby,” she stated indignantly, but inside Rogue knew she had indeed dumped him, and rather abruptly.
“What else would you call it?” Logan was calm and neutral, but the Logan inside Rogue’s head was chuckling to himself, so she knew he was goading her.
“There’s a difference between dumping and breaking up. Look, Logan, I know you’re just trying to push my buttons here, but I did NOT dump...” Her voice trailed off into a low moan as his hands brushed lightly over her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples before pulling her close again.
“That’s how I push buttons, baby,” he breathed the warm words onto her skin. “You dumped him for me: admit it.”
“Yes, you’re right. I confess. Do that again, please.”
“Sorry - you’re now officially on sexual hold until further notice. No more mutual showers, either. The next one may kill me if we don’t end up in bed, naked, and fucking like weasels.”
Rogue gave him a saucy grin, looked up through her lashes, and commented, “Well, considering my sexual inexperience, I really don’t know ‘how’ weasels fuck, so is this something I should look forward to?”
“Yes, definitely,” he nibbled her ear lobe, then backed off, leaning against the wall again at her side.
“You’re starting to scare me. You know that, right?”
“Why?”
Rogue shifted from one foot to another to buy time to form the words, then just launched into it. “When Bobby couldn’t touch me, he wanted me something fierce. When he ‘could’ touch me, he pulled away and started hanging with Kitty. That made me feel all kinds of awful. And all this time, while I was ‘technically’ still with Bobby, you’ve been all over me; which I love, mind you. But tonight, I dump Bobby, and you put me out of your bed. I see a pattern here, and I don’t like it, not one little bit. Tell me this is coincidence, and you’re not gonna wander off to someone else.”
He was back with his arms around her again in an instant, “I am not wandering off to someone else. You just need to decompress and breathe a little. When the time comes, I’m gonna be on you like it’s rutting season. But just how much of this overload of stress, and experimental sex, and tension, and emotional grind do you think you can handle, and still function? Still enjoy yourself?” He laced fingers through her hair and laid a soft kiss on her lips, “I’m just saying ‘no’ for tonight. Understand?”
“Yeah, I understand, and yeah, you’re probably right,” Rogue lost herself in his hazel eyes for a long while, then added, “It’s just that I’ve waited so long for you.”
“I know. It’s mutual. Waiting can make it better. Granted, there’s a lot to be said for instant gratification and I’m a walking testimonial to that, but everything has it’s opposite in nature. We’ll get there, Marie. I promise.”
“And until then, you need something to remember me by,” she teased him with the words, then remembering their previous night on the roof, she gently but firmly cupped his crotch and gave him a good rubbing squeeze before stepping away. “I think it was concerning blue balls, or something like that. ‘Night, Logan,” and she was gone down the stairs.
Logan stood there agape, his groin throbbing deliciously with the stimulation, and he resisted beating his head against the wall at this newly-found sense of chivalrous patience. One gentle southern belle, virtually inexperienced, just fitting nicely beneath his arm, and she was able to work him like a puppet. One evil, young, beautiful, virginal, terrifying, wicked woman, and he had to bed her, and soon.
Grabbing the radio and giving in to the temptation, Logan bounced his forehead off the doorframe a few times before heading back downstairs to his empty room and empty bed.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Rogue makes her stand for freedom, and goes dancing on the roof. Logan makes a decision that shakes Rogue’s confidence.