Jubilee shook her head as her legs pumped away on the stair machine, her brown eyes widening.
"Oh my GOD! You're kidding!"
Rogue shook her head, regret ringing in her similarly brown orbs, "No. He was in a coma for three weeks."
"Wow," said Jubilee, still shaking her head, her voice filled with awe, "You must be a great kisser."
Rogue frowned softly at her, "I don' know, it was my first kiss."
"Well sure," Jubilee grinned, "You still put him in a coma!"
Rogue let herself smile a moment, but the dull reality of the moment soaked up the merriment, the girlish moments of arousal and romantic thoughts dying in her. Damn. She could still remember the touch of the lips. Wet. Silky. Strangely enough, the moment she realised she could never have that again, she wasn't upset. Only numb... very numb. Just distancing herself from the world was all she cared about.
At least until she walked into that hellhole those hicks called a bar in the backwaters of Canada. In fact a lot of things changed when she walked in there.
He had been gripping the mesh of the fighting cage, facing neither the judge, nor the opponent a couple of bouncers dragged away. He sipped at a tumbler of whiskey, his muscles rippling in the dingy light, glowing flits of moths circling it desperately. All she could do was step forward, closer, to make sure that what she was seeing was real. He wasn't like the boy that she kissed. He was feral, wild, aggressively masculine, not so much in his build but in the machismo he oozed. Some idiot stepped into the ring, and her heart skipped a beat as he turned around, his face moving into the light. God... he had intense eyes of a hazel hue, filled with a rage that fascinated her even as it terrified her. In that cage he went wild, thumping the man unconscious, his teeth clenched, his lovely lips thinning in derisive glee. He enjoyed the pain he inflicted. Even though she could tell he was safe in that cage, that he could do no wrong... she was frightened for him.
The next moment of change was one she'd never forget. Later at the bar, she'd met those eyes again. Indeed, knowing what was under the layers of flannel shirt and heavy leather jacket, knowing the anger that flowed within him, she couldn't drag her eyes away from him. He was quiet, staunch, withdrawn. A feeling of familiarity washed over her, so crazy. The glint of a troublemaker's blade caught her eye, and when she jumped up, her voice screaming out before she could think of what she was saying, his own gleaming slivers of metal burst from his fists, and her body convulsed a little. She wasn't sure if it was fear, disgust or fascination, but the relief that swept over her was real when she realised that he was deformed like her.
Oddly, it never left her. She glanced over to her friend whose thick smoky-rimmed shades were slipped up into her scruffy short black hair, the grey bike-pants and mid-riff top accentuating her young figure nicely. Rogue frowned. Jubilee was a lot more balanced in her figure that she was, much more voluptuous. Her shoulders were wide, her hips equally so. When Rogue looked to her own frame, she saw wide hips, but slightly narrower shoulders. Well - maybe she was just seeing things in a bad way. The sight of herself in the same grey sports clothes kinda made her feel silly, maybe because she wasn't totally used to being so obviously feminine yet. She felt like she was too skinny though. Yeah... needed more muscle maybe. Then again, so many of the X-men's populace were so lithe and stunning, it wasn't odd for a young recruit to feel scrawny. She doubted she could ever be so glamourous. She glanced down at herself again. The low cut of the singlet she wore made a party of her cleavage, her stomach rippled and moved as her bare legs powered away on the step machine she was on. Yes... those sports pants were ridiculously short. Who designed these outfits - a hooker?!
"Why you gone so quiet?" asked Jubilee, her form bobbing up and down on the machine.
Rogue shrugged, smiling, "Jus' thinkin'."
She hadn't a chance to get back to thinking, as frantic whispers swept the large gym.
"Oh my God," came a hushed female voice from near Rogue, and turned out to be that of a girl on a nearby treadmill, "Wolverine's coming in! Let's be hoping he takes that shirt off huh?"
Jubilee glanced a the girl that had uttered the words, cocking a lip as she shook her head, "Shit, you'd think he was Richard Gere or something."
Rogue felt herself cocking her head and smirking, "Well he's cuter than Richard Gere."
Jubilee gave a sharp laugh, huffing and chuckling, "Man, I knew you were gonna say that!"
She smiled, "I's jus' bein' honest!"
Jubilee shook her head. "Maybe I should give you the zap in the ass, huh? Get you back to your senses."
"What?" asked Rogue frowning.
"He's like - 15 years older than you or something!"
"Actually," Rogue stopped herself as a heat of embarrassment swept over her, but the look on Jubilee's face prompted her to continue, "They have no idea how old he is. He's got this regenerative mutation so-"
"Oh my GOD!" laughed Jubilee suddenly, "You could be having a crush on a fucking 80 year old!"
A blush raged in Rogue's cheeks, and she looked away, "I don't have a crush on him, he's just a friend."
"Yeah whatever," smirked Jubilee, "Oh here he coooomes!"
The gym was silent as the mass of girls in similar sports clothes gazed longingly to the muscular man who strode in determinedly. It was odd. He rarely came when anyone else was in there, but Rogue figured the Danger Room - his preferred method of work out - was busy at the time. She watched him keenly as he walked to a weight bench near the corner, only a few metres from Rogue's machine, dropping a small sports bag on the ground and digging out some water. He took a swig, and turned to face the rest of the room.
About fifteen girls, eyes previously locked on him, gasped and looked away, hiding their faces behind hands, or laughing and giggling with their friends. All except Rogue. She smiled, and with a sweetness that defied the rough look of his features, he smiled back. A collective coo fell through the female presence, and he frowned suddenly, looking away.
Jubilee rose a brow with a slow leer. "Hey, lucky gippy," she whispered, "He checked you out!"
Rogue rolled her eyes, "He did not! We're friends stupid! He was just sayin' hello without talkin'!"
Jubilee shrugged and grinned, looking away.
Rogue felt a blush in her cheeks again, the tingly burning driving her crazy. What the hell was even the point of all this? It was painfully futile to her, differences in age and difficulties in skin considered. She looked to the speed meter on her machine, her eyes locked to it. She stayed that way for quite some time, powering away, and for a moment, she could almost pretend she didn't smell his distinctive spicy sweet cologne that probably went out of fashion years ago, but still sent her heart thumping all the same.
A soft collective gasp fell across the room, and she glanced up. Her mouth suddenly went dry, and she fought to stifle a laugh.
Wolverine sat at the bench, shirt half over his head. As the gasp finished he pulled it down again, glaring at the girls like they were insane. Rogue couldn't hold it in anymore, it was all so ridiculous. A snigger slipped, and the glare that was previously directed to the rest of the room landed dead on her. It was just the thing to send her into a light, spirited tinkle of a laugh that brought a fiery red blush to the older man's cheeks.
"I'm - oh God I'm sorry, Logan," she chuckled, "You can keep strippin' if ya like."
He gave a twist of an irritated smile and pulled the t-shirt down, his words coming out short and cold, but somehow jovial at the same time, "That's okay, I think I'll go see if the Danger Room is empty yet."
She grinned freely, pumping the stair-machine with a wide sway of her hips, letting the giddy feeling in her heart guide her. His eyes stayed on hers for a good moment, amusement in them as he packed his things.
"Wolverine!"
Rogue glanced to the door of the gym, the leather-suited figure of Cyclops bursting in with Jean close behind. Something was up. The duo ran up to Wolverine, and she fought not to notice Wolverine giving a provocative smile to Jean behind Scott. She pursed her lips, glancing down to her feminine young body with dissatisfaction. She glanced up again, seeing Wolverine look suddenly angry. She leant forward, straining to hear.
"You're crazy right?" Wolverine said, "Facing Magneto without Rogue?"
Cyclops glared at him, "Rogue has training to do. She's nowhere near ready to face-"
"She was ready enough before," the burly shorter man growled, "What makes it so different now."
"You know what happened the last time," Jean said.
Rogue frowned, the word 'Magneto' stirring a slight devastation within her. She didn't want to think about him, or that time in Manhattan. It brought about hellish memories, not hers, someone else's. It cut her deeply, and seeing that side of the villain they sought out was frightening. Many wondered if she felt sorry for him in light of his past. She couldn't. She'd seen deep into him, and she knew how cracked his soul was. He was misguided, and she would never make the mistake of buying into the blind. Slipping off the stair machine, she strode over arguing group.
"Hey," she said, "Don't you think I should be in on this too?"
Cyclops sighed roughly, Wolverine glancing to her momentarily.
"You know she's the only one that can stop him," Logan said, "That can counter his powers. I don't even know the damned point of sending me along, he's just gonna stick me to the wall like a fucking fridge magnet."
"What a delightful picture," smiled Rogue.
Wolverine glared at her. He didn't remember her being this saucy all those months ago when they met. He almost liked it.
"We're skirting the issue here," said Cyclops, "We gotta MOVE Logan, it's an emergency for crissakes!"
"What's going on?"
Cyclops spun about at the sound of the older wiser voice, pointing at Wolverine, "He's insisting Rogue come along for this mission."
The wheel-chaired form of Xavier sat in the doorway to the gym, a disturbed look settling on his older features.
"Have you got a better idea?" cried Wolverine, "What use is muscle against a guy that can throw cars around like yesterday's carton of milk?!"
Rogue felt the probing gaze of Professor Xavier fall on her. It was rather disturbing; she could feel him riffling about in her mind. She didn't think anyone else could do that. She wasn't sure why, she felt a close link with this man. It was possibly something left over from her drain of Magneto.
"Rogue can go with you on the sole condition that one of you be by her side at all times."
"Awww..."
The disappointed sigh fell through the small crowd of girls who were hoping for a slanging-match between Cyclops and Wolverine. For some reason it was unbelievably entertaining. Wolverine was always the bigger wanker, and if he won, it was spectacular.
Xavier gave the girls a stern smile and directed himself around, wheeling out of the room. Cyclops sighed, propping his hands on his hips.
"Okay - Jean - you get her suited up."
Rogue's eyes lit up, "I get a suit?!"
Wolverine curled his lips with an unimpressed scowl. "They suck."
Wolverine paced, gripping the glove in his hand, fists clenched, his blades flinging in and out tetchily. He hated to think about how long they'd been waiting in the room for the girls to come back from the fitting room. Heaps of people could have died by now and they'd been waiting about ten minutes. What was the deal? Grab the suit, let the machiney thing do it's thing, get out! He punched his unbladed fist into a bladed hand, his teeth gritting. Cyclops looked at him steadily, his face unreadable behind the eye-gear he always wore. Pansy. Wolverine grunted at him shortly, pushing out the other blades and ringing them against the ones on his other hand.
"Got a problem?"
"No," Cyclops shook his head, "I just wish you'd quit pacing."
Wolverine ducked his head around the doorway, sliding his blades back into his arms for another annoying time, "What's taking her so long?"
Cyclops shrugged, "The girl's suits take longer to fit. All those curves and stuff to account for."
Wolverine felt his claws spring out, and he fought the blush on his face, "Uhuh."
Cyclops smirked. "Mind to the mission, mister."
He growled at the smug visor-clad man across from him. Damn. This was crazy, he certainly felt crazy. He hadn't foreseen her getting suited up. What was he even worrying about? She wore tight clothes all the time, he was used to it. Moreover, he wanted to get out of here and to the fighting. The idea of getting that bastard Magneto for what he'd done was one he couldn't keep out of his head, he never could. He'd nearly killed the sweetest little soul he'd ever known. The prick would pay.
"Ah'm ready..."
The voice was tremulous, accent thick from nerves. He swung around, and nearly choked. Dear GOD.
Rogue smiled nervously, running her hands over the black leather, the yellow and green cording standing out against the dark suit. Shit it was tight... Her hair tumbled down around her, white streaks standing out like a beacon, hands resting on curving hips which ran down to shapely thighs that sections of ribbed vinyl brought up oh so nicely. Thick-soled chunky heeled boots shod her feet, her neckline a low-zipped visage similar to Jean-Grey and Storm's but seeming all the more deadly. Unlike her comrades, her hands were bare. Wolverine tensed at the sight of the silky pristine skin, the sweet little long-nailed hands so innocent looking to the unbeknownst.
He cleared his throat, looking away. Crap, he'd been gawking. A slow grin fell across the face of the younger woman, and she practically slinked across the room over to Cyclops. She folded her arms, cocking a brow.
"Rogue, reporting for duty sir," she said, tongue firmly in cheek. Cyclops looked to Jean-Grey.
"I thought those shared personality traits were supposed to fade."
Jean Grey grinned and shrugged, "They were supposed to."
Rogue sighed, clapping her hands together, "Well - shall we go save some lives or are we gonna watch Logan starin' at my ass all day?"
Logan spun about, facing away from the girl and blushing madly. Ho shit. Not only had she noticed, she was being embarrassing about it. This girl was amazing. He clenched his teeth, turning about and stalking out towards the Blackbird's hanger.
"Let's stop yakkin' and get to it, huh?"
He heard the other X-Men's footfalls behind him as he went swiftly down the corridors, glaring ahead. He was angry now, how dare she do that to him? He felt a familiar scent waft closer, and he grit his teeth, looking away from where it came from.
"Logan..."
He didn't look at her. He didn't even want to.
"Logan," she hissed quietly, "I'm sorry!"
He kept walking.
"God damnit, Logan, will you stop sulking an' look at me?"
He flicked a glare at her, lips taught. She sighed, putting a hand to her forehead.
"I'm sorry, I really am."
"You usually like to make your friends look like complete dicks in front of other people?" he grunted.
She rolled her eyes, "Well you were doin' fine enough a' job a' that yerself!"
He felt a blush burn him again and he flared his nostrils angrily. How dare she smell so good?
"Look, I meant it, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to - well -lookin' like this. I guess I got cocky."
Logan turned the corner and waited for the large double sliding doors of the Blackbird's hanger to open. He clenched his jaw in response, turning his hazel eyes towards her.
"You did get cocky."
She looked down, a frown on her face.
"If I looked that good, I'd get cocky too."
Suddenly, the frown twitched to the smallest of smiles. She glanced up, her cheeks glowing in a healthy blush, "Ah look good?"
He felt the corners of his mouth shift upwards so slightly, and he nodded, just as minutely. The doors slid open at the bequest of Cyclops, and they strode in. He smelt a new body in the room, and turning he saw the blue-grey tinged face of the furry young Mr. McCoy, more commonly referred to as Beast. He cocked a brow at him. The bastard was huge. He wasn't sure how much leather they needed to cover his 7-ft frame, but it must have been a hell of a lot of it. The young man approached the group, brutish and menacing in appearance. He stopped in front of Cyclops, nodding his head and fiddling with clawed hands nervously.
"I'm here," he said, his voice light yet deep, the accent clear learned American if Wolverine had ever heard it.
"Hi, Beast," Cyclops smiled, patting the guy on the shoulder, "You ready to put your years of training to good use?"
"Absolutely," smiled Beast.
"Great - get in! OH wait - Beast," Cyclops pulled Beast back, tagging Rogue who stood nearby, "This is Rogue, she'll be with us on this mission."
"Ah," Beast said, "You are in the lower grades, if I recall correctly."
"Not too low, I start college in two months," said Rogue, noticing the furry hand reaching out to clasp hers in greeting, "You don't wanna do that, sugar, trust me."
Wolverine glared at Jean, mouthing "Sugar?"
Jean grinned and shrugged, "Let's go!"
From the front window of the Blackbird, the flickering orange glow of explosions could be seen reaching up from the ground, the frantic voices of those fighting filtering through the police radio pickup in the cockpit. Wolverine glanced back, his muscles feeling tight, his stomach jumping in anxiety at the sight he saw. Rogue leant against the wall, her lips a little pale, her brows tilted up. He tried to get out of his seat, but the firm hand of Jean on his shoulder stopped him.
"The g-force of us stopping will make a Logan-type pizza on the roof," she said. He sighed restlessly.
"Rogue - are you okay?"
She looked back at him, swallowing, "Ah'm fine! Jus' a little air-sick."
"There's a sick-bag in the compartment in the back of the chair in front of you," said Storm, looking back.
"Ah hate flyin'," she mumbled, the crisp sound of thick waterproofed paper being unfolded.
"We're there," Cyclops said, "You might wanna look out the window while we land Rogue, it gets a little icky."
"Urk!"
Wolverine glared back at her, his eyes wide, hands clenching the seat, "Rogue!"
"Guh," she coughed some, her face hidden in the bag, "Oh God... Logan, calm down... Jesus Christ you'd think you were my mother!"
Logan blinked at her, then let a brow slide up in ire, "Well, if I were your mother you'd be over my knee for speaking to me like that." He glared at Cyclops who suddenly let loose a snigger.
Storm smirked a little, shaking her head, "You'll have to get used to the Blackbird, Rogue, if you are to accompany us on missions in the future."
She swallowed, looking up from the bag with dimples of discomfort in her brow, "Can't I just walk?"
Cyclops grinned, closing off the systems, "Come on - we've got some fighting to do."
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