He's mine. I don't care what you do with him, so long as you acknowledge this.
Fuck him, date him, move in with him, love him, marry him, be my guest. He's a damned bear in the mornings, so you know. He's still mine, though.
Make him happy. I like what's mine to glow, to shine with pleasure in being. Still mine.
We're mates of a kind, but there are other kinds, and you're welcome to fill those roles. He's mine, don't forget.
I'll tell you this: Screw him over, desert him thoughtlessly or carelessly, and you'll know a new meaning of hurt. He is mine, after all.
He's mine, and I'm his. We've never needed a touch or a kiss or frilly words of love. We just are.
Best friends are like that, after all.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
Popped into my head one night. First published X-Fic.