The smell of strawberries and sleep-warmed skin woke Logan. As was his custom when he didn’t smell or hear anything immediately threatening, full consciousness came slowly. Instead, he took his time taking in the scents and sounds of the room, starting from the far corner and gradually coming to focus on the things nearest him. As he continued waking, his inhalations became deeper, his heart sped up, and his muscles started twitching subtly. When he was awake enough for his eyes to start fluttering open, he stretched and curled his fingers. He found comfort and contentment in the ritual, and while he was aware that Rogue slept next to him, he hadn’t been paying any attention to how close together they lay. It was for this reason that he hadn’t noticed for a full sleep-fogged minute where his left hand was. As soon as his curling fingers registered the warm, soft resistance of Rogue’s breast, he was fully awake and frozen in place.
Was wonderin’ how long it’d take you to realize where your hand was, Wolverine said in amusement. As always, Wolverine was fully aware and chatty first thing in the morning. Although he had never shared the information with anyone, that was the number one reason Logan wasn’t a morning person. Every day, at the first hint of conscious thought, Wolverine greeted him in some fashion. Essentially having no time to himself in the morning – or whenever he happened to wake up – made Logan surly for the half hour of so it took Wolverine to fade into the back of his mind. He had tried arguing about the situation with his alter ego once, but Wolverine had completely blown him off by saying, “Hey, you’re the one who shoves me front and center when you sleep. I have no choice in the matter.” After a while, Logan recognized it as the effective defense that it was; he was free to sleep deeply as long as the Wolverine was conscious at the front of his mind and monitoring their surroundings for danger. Wolverine being completely present when he woke also gave him the ability to attack immediately and instinctively as needed.
On this particular morning, Logan was glad for the other presence.
What do I do? he asked, unable to resist a second, light squeeze of his hand.
Wolverine snorted in amusement. You did not seriously ask that question.
Ass, Logan returned. You know what I mean.
You’re askin’ whether she’d be at all receptive to bein’ woken up with our hands and lips on her?
Logan raised an eyebrow at the peculiarity of Wolverine’s plural possessive. He had noticed it before whenever they discussed Rogue – Wolverine considered the girl his just as much as Logan did. That had never happened before, not even with Jean. Wolverine had acknowledged her as an attractive female, had even expressed an interest in sleeping with her, but had felt none of the attachment that Logan had. It was actually frustrating to Logan how close-lipped Wolverine was on the subject, and the amused condescension in his tone the one time Logan had tried warning him that Rogue didn’t belong to anyone but him had cured him of the desire to argue the point. Admittedly, it had taken Logan a while to get used to the idea of “sharing” Rogue with Wolverine, but once he had, he was strangely grateful for the situation. He at least knew that Wolverine wouldn’t interfere where Rogue was concerned, and he was just as willing as Logan to die for her if that’s what it took to keep her safe. That willingness for self-sacrifice allowed Logan to cut Wolverine some slack when it came to things like the possessive speech patterns, or the occasionally lustful comment.
Yeah, that’s what I’m askin’, Logan said, returning to the conversation.
Wolverine was quiet for a thoughtful moment. I don’t think she would be. Last night was rough on her, and you saw how twitchy she was before she finally fell asleep. Hell, she damn near bolted out of the bed when you put your arm around her waist.
Only did that to make her stop movin’ around so I could get to sleep.
Rii-iight, Wolverine drawled. And the fact that you then pulled her up against your chest served what purpose?
Logan answered with a wordless mental snarl.
Besides, she’ll be pissed that you didn’t keep your promise. You told her that you’d keep away from her since she doesn’t know if she can control her mutation in her sleep.
Wolverine was right. He sighed and slowly pulled his hand away from Rogue’s warm breast. At the movement, a soft little mewling sound escaped Rogue’s slightly parted lips, and Logan froze again, this time with his hand hovering in the air over her shoulder. That one sound flooded him – and Wolverine – with frenzied desire.
Forget what I said, Wolverine demanded. She might not be receptive at first, but she will be soon enough.
Logan gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. You jackass, he accused, that would be takin’ advantage of her. And after what she told us last night, do you really want to force anythin’ on her before she’s ready?
There was a wave of wordless remorse from Wolverine. Things like that always confused Logan. Wolverine was capable of independent thoughts and feelings, and the man – could he call him a man? That was yet another confusing point for him, so Logan usually referred to him as Wolverine or just “him” when he had to – had a conscience and sense of decency despite his ability for absolute ruthlessness. Rogue had half-seriously compared it to the unspoken Italian mafia-man code once: take care of business however it needs taking care of, but don’t disrespect or hurt family, children, or women. She had said that after Alkali Lake when she was the only one to notice how much he had regretted having to kill Lady Deathstryke. Most people had attributed his odd behavior then to Jean’s first “death” and only a few of them who knew about it thought he was upset at having lost his only link to his past. Only Rogue had seen that he – and Wolverine – were swimming in regret and self-recrimination. He had seen his actions only as failures; Lady Deathstryke hadn’t been acting of her own will and he hadn’t been able to save her, nor had he been able to save Jean.
Despite that, Rogue had addressed his feelings of guilt with only one sentence: “You do what needs doing when it needs to be done, but nobody here blames you for the things you can’t do, so you shouldn’t blame yourself either.” Oddly enough, that had helped him work through the worst of it; that and Wolverine’s snickering comment that it was like a shrink or social worker telling him “It’s not your fault” over and over until he believed it. But they both knew that they would never accept the words as truth from anybody but Rogue. Her ability to look at his ruthlessness as necessary and justified, coupled with her ability to give him the unvarnished truth when he needed it, made him feel like a whole person for the first time he could remember. Before Rogue, he had always felt like he and Wolverine were two separate entities fighting for control over the same space. And Wolverine had once shared that he had only felt the need to fight Logan because Logan had been fighting him. Once they had finished with the territorial posturing, life had become at least more integrated if not easier.
Come on, out of bed, Wolverine urged. If we stay here we’re gonna end up all over her.
Logan couldn’t argue. He rolled away from Rogue and exited the bed from the opposite side. He quietly picked up his bag and headed into the bathroom. As he flipped on the light, he caught sight of his face in the mirror over the sink. Unsure of why he was doing it, Logan leaned into the sink and examined his reflection. He felt Wolverine’s puzzlement, but ignored him. He started with his hair.
Looks messy, he thought. Nothin’ I can do ‘bout it. My hair won’t lie down flat no matter what I do. Logan changed his focus. Eyes are okay, though. I wouldn’t call ‘em “pretty” like Marie does. Hers are pretty…mine are just regular ol’ eyes. Nose is straight. That’s actually surprising’ with the number o’ times it’s been broken, even takin’ my healin’ factor into consideration. Same with my teeth – I wonder why they’ve never been knocked out before? I’ll have to ask Hank ‘bout that some time, see what he thinks. I’ve got lines at the corners’ o’ my eyes. Wonder when I got those? Don’t remember if I had them when I came to in the woods. I guess they prove that I am aging? Wouldn’t the healin’ factor keep my skin unwrinkled if I wasn’t? That’s another question for Hank.
He dismissed the line of questioning and took in his bristly muttonchops. He ran his hand over them consideringly. He directed his next thought to Wolverine. Wonder if I should shave?
Why? Wolverine asked in surprise.
Logan felt his cheeks grow warm under his fingers. Thinkin’ it might make me look a little younger. Maybe people wouldn’t be so nasty and disapproving to Marie if I didn’t look like I’m old enough to be her father.
Damn people don’t need a reason to be nasty. They just are. And you’ll still look enough older than our girl for people to get upset about it. Screw them; don’t shave. Not unless Marie wants you to. Her skin’s soft enough that she’ll probably end up with whisker burn if you do.
Logan grunted. Hadn’t thought o’ that. Next time we’re at a convenience store, I’ll see if they sell clippers or somethin’. I won’t shave it off, but I might as well trim it down a bit.
Whatever floats your boat, bub, Wolverine returned noncommittally.
Logan nodded to himself and quickly stripped off his shirt. He couldn’t help a quick smirk when he remembered the first time Marie had come into the gym while he was working out. The way she had stared at him with huge brown eyes and the forceful swallow he had seen rippling along her throat had been the first hint he had of her attraction to him. After that, he had paid more attention to her reactions to him, but he had never been certain if she was actually attracted to him, or just nervous around him. He hadn’t asked or made any overt gestures, though, since she had still been under age; besides, Jeannie had still been alive at the time.
It hadn’t been until the morning she had come to get him for breakfast that he knew she desired him. Rogue had knocked lightly at his door before letting herself in just as Logan was stirring awake. He had cracked one eye open at her entry and growled a good morning in a sleep-roughened voice. He followed the greeting with a leisurely stretch that had the sheet covering him slipping farther down his bare torso, and just as his left hipbone was exposed, Rogue had made an odd little sound in her throat and the scent of her arousal had filled the room. Logan had frozen mid-stretch and met her eyes. Or tried to; she was too busy devouring his chest and stomach to bother with eye contact. Logan wasn’t sure how long they had stared at each other, but eventually he had reminded her that he still needed to get dressed before they could go eat breakfast.
Rogue had merely responded with a breathy “Oh” before backing out of his room and closing the door behind her. She barely spoke to Logan at breakfast, and had been twitchy around him for several days after that.
While the memory, now nearly three years old, was satisfying, it was also endlessly frustrating for Logan. It had been long enough after Jean’s death that he had felt comfortable enough to begin flirting subtly with Rogue after that morning, and after a while, she had learned to relax and respond in kind. But she never seemed to take him seriously, even when he had made his flirting blatantly obvious. Until last night. For the first time, Rogue seemed to understand that he really did see her as a desirable woman and not just some stray he had picked up.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, Logan pulled open the shower curtain and turned on the water. Unlike Rogue, he always took the time to adjust the temperature before getting in. When it was warm enough, he removed his sweatpants and boxers and ducked quickly under the needle-like spray. He leaned forward into the water, tipping his head down and bracing his hands on the wall in front of him. As the water soaked his hair, he could pick up the faint, lingering traces of strawberry from Rogue’s shower the night before. Wolverine stirred briefly and pushed an image to the forefront of Logan’s mind. While he usually avoided imagining Rogue naked, Wolverine had no such qualms.
Logan groaned at the picture taking shape behind his closed eyes and felt his body responding.
His eyes snapped open. Enough of that, he growled at Wolverine.
Not nearly enough.
Logan hissed in exasperation and did his best to ignore Wolverine as he quickly finished his shower. He dressed in his usual jeans, wife beater, and flannel combination, shook the water from his hair and ran his hand through it once. Once he brushed his teeth, he was good to go.
* * *
Rogue looked up as the bathroom door opened. The groaning rush of water through the pipes had woken her a few minutes earlier. Figuring that Logan couldn’t have been awake for very long, she ran her hand over the pillow and the space beside her. It had still been warm, telling her that Logan hadn’t moved away from her as he had promised he would. She was torn between anger and excitement. She was angry that Logan had taken such a risk – she had worn socks, pajama pants and a long sleeved t-shirt to bed, but hadn’t worn gloves – but excited because he had obviously wanted to stay close to her and because of the possibility that she was able to control her skin while she slept. She couldn’t imagine that there hadn’t been some skin to skin contact.
Logan froze in the doorway when he saw her watching him.
“Mornin’, darlin’,” he said amiably.
“Mornin’, Logan,” she returned calmly. “I see ya survived mah deadly skin last night.”
Rogue felt vaguely guilty when Logan winced.
“I don’t want to argue with you, darlin’. I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise, but I couldn’t help it.”
Rogue’s right eyebrow winged up.
“Honestly.” Logan looked uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. He stared at her for a few seconds and finally shrugged his broad shoulders. “I meant to move away, but I fell asleep.”
Rogue was surprised by the answer for some reason. She couldn’t be angry at him since he hadn’t intentionally broken his promise. She frowned, uncertain what to say. She finally settled on “Oh.”
A faint grin appeared on Logan’s lips. He stepped away from the bathroom and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on, darlin’. Get up and get dressed and we’ll go back to the diner for breakfast. Figure we’ll check out and drop our bags back at the Explorer on the way.”
Rogue nodded and scrambled from the bed, an idea already forming. “Ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, sugar.”
Logan snorted. “Never knew what the hell that’s supposed to mean.”
Rogue’s mischievous grin was the only answer as she grabbed her bag and disappeared into the bathroom.
Our girl’s up to somethin’, Wolverine warned.
“I noticed,” Logan murmured wryly as he set about shoving things into his duffle bag. Since he always packed light, he still had some room left and after a moment’s thought, grabbed Rogue’s bunny slippers and stuffed them into his bag too. As he was tossing the blankets and pillows back into some semblance of order, he heard the rasping grate of Rogue pulling the zipper closed on her bag. He turned just in time to catch the door opening.
Da-amn.
Logan couldn’t formulate a coherent thought to answer Wolverine, but he seconded his opinion. Rogue had on a pair of tight, dark wash jeans and a rich, ruby red tank top. The tank had thin straps edged with lace that followed along the edges of the deep v-neck. The shadow of cleavage revealed there made Logan’s mouth dry, but before he gave into the temptation to say or do something to make a fool out of himself, he tore his eyes away. The fine points of her collarbone drew his attention to the graceful slope of her shoulders and the lean, pale lines of her arms. She had on a short pair of black lace and ribbon gloves that left her fingertips bare, telling him that they were definitely not chosen for protection or basic functionality.
Why the hell’s she dressed like that? And why the hell is a simple pair of jeans and a skimpy little shirt doin’ this to me?
Who cares, came Wolverine’s ready reply, and because it’s Marie wearin’ ‘em.
Thinking to find a clue as to what Rogue was thinking, Logan lifted his eyes to her face. He felt again as if he’d been punched in the stomach as he saw the smoky shadow and black eyeliner framing her eyes. Her lashes were darkened and curled upward until they looked impossibly long, and she had artfully covered her bruises until all that remained was the faintest shadow along her cheek where he knew the scrape had not yet fully healed. Dropping his gaze to her lips, Logan was for some reason grateful to see that she hadn’t used any lipstick. Rather, Rogue’s full, pouty lips were left their natural pink color and coated with a clear gloss that made them look slightly wet, as if she had just run her tongue over them. Her hair was left loose in tumbling waves that brushed her shoulders.
“Well, whadya think, sugar?”
“I think…” Logan swallowed and tried again. “I don’t know what I think. Why the hell are you dressed like that, darlin’?”
Rogue’s smile faded. “It doesn’t look good?”
“Hell no. I mean yes. Yes, it looks good. Too good. Get changed.”
What?
“What?”
The questions came simultaneously, and Logan shook his head a little to clear it.
“You’re gonna have every man we come across droolin’ over you, darlin’. And I don’t feel like fightin’ our way across Canada unless it’s in a cage.”
A self-satisfied smirk drew Rogue’s lips into an appealing curve.
“Good.” She turned and walked toward the chair by the door to retrieve her coat and Logan saw that the V of the neckline was mirrored in the back, the lace edging brushing the delicate wings of her shoulder blades as she moved.
“What the hell do you mean ‘good’?” Logan thundered, suddenly, unreasoningly, angry.
“Don’t get yer boxers in a bunch, sugar.” Rogue’s flippant tone pulled an involuntary growl from deep in his chest. She rounded on him, her arms crossed against her chest and a mutinous look on her face. “An’ don’t ya growl at me. In case ya forgot, Logan, Ah don’t take orders from ya. So Ah can wear whatever Ah want whenever an’ wherever Ah want.”
“I know that,” he acknowledged gruffly. “Do you mind at least tellin’ me the reason for that getup?”
Who cares? Wolverine insisted stubbornly. We get to look at her all day.
Logan staunchly ignored the little thrill that ran up his spine and cocked an eyebrow at Rogue. “Well?”
“‘Cause o’ that jackass downstairs.”
“You dressed up for that skeevy bastard? Why?” He didn’t even try to keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Not for him exactly. But when we go to check out, he’s not gonna be thinkin’ that Ah’m a little girl or that ye’re a pedophile anymore, now is he?”
Oh, she’s evil. The Wolverine’s feeling of smug approval mirrored Logan’s. He felt his lips drawing back into the semblance of a smile, but he knew that the end result was likely more a feral baring of teeth.
“I like the way you think, darlin’.” Logan nodded to the jacket in her hands. “Gonna be warm enough without that ‘til we get to the car?”
Rogue looked down at the garment in surprise. “Oh. Yeah. Ah hadn’t thought ‘bout that. It would rather ruin the look, wouldn’t it?”
Logan just nodded again and held his hand out for the jacket and her bag. They didn’t speak again as he followed her out of the room and down to the shabby little office.
The same smarmy clerk was sitting at the desk with his feet up, leafing through a magazine with a picture of a swimsuit clad woman on the front. He turned the magazine lengthwise for a better view as they stepped up to the counter.
“Can I help you?” he grunted without looking up.
“Just here to turn in our room key,” Rogue said in a drawl that was somehow breathy and sultry all at the same time. Logan felt the muscles low in his stomach tighten.
The man at the counter…twitched. It was the only word that Logan could think of to describe it. As if in slow motion, the man lowered the magazine until he could see Rogue over the top of the page. Logan’s sensitive hearing picked up the man’s hasty gulp, and the Wolverine cackled madly.
Oh, she’s got him good and hooked, he crowed triumphantly. And she didn’t even do anythin’.
Idiot, Logan thought. She’s not even talkin’ to us and she got us all worked up too.
That’s different, Wolverine insisted. She’s ours. She’s supposed to be able to do that to us.
Maybe, Logan mused as he watched Rogue lean into the counter, giving the clerk a full view of her cleavage. He was amused as he listened to the man stammer, but was also tense with vigilance.
“S-so, you’re t-turnin’ in your room key then?” The clerk’s eyes were fixed on Rogue’s cleavage as he spoke. When Rogue drew breath to reply, the man’s pasty tongue darted out to lick his lips. Logan wanted to hit him.
Let her have her fun, Wolverine cautioned. She’s handlin’ him just fine.
I don’t want him lookin’ at her, he growled.
Neither do I. But whatever she’s got planned, she wants him to look.
Logan growled again, this time audibly, and the clerk jumped and cast him a nervous glance. His eyes grew wide when he recognized Logan. His gaze swiveled back to Rogue and he looked at her face for the first time. Rogue cast Logan a quelling look before turning her attention back to the man. She held the key out to him, dangling it in front of her cleavage to draw his eyes back down. He reached for it slowly.
“W-was the room to yer…likin’?” The greasy innuendo lacing his words was punctuated by another flick of his tongue over his lips as his fingers closed around the key.
Rogue smiled. “The room?” She turned away from the clerk and leaned back, resting her elbows on the counter. Logan saw the man lean toward her hair and inhale deeply. Logan scowled. “Was the room to our likin’, sugar?” Rogue asked him innocently.
So that’s her game, Wolverine purred. Logan’s scowl turned into a smirk. He stepped forward and rested a hand on Rogue’s hip and met the clerk’s gaze.
“The room was crap. Bed was great though.” This time the clerk scowled.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Rogue said thoughtfully. “Plenty o’ bounce in the springs.”
Logan almost choked on his tongue. He tightened his grip on Rogue’s hip and pulled her toward him. A rustling sound drew his attention back to the clerk and he saw that the man had clenched his fist hard enough to crumple the magazine he still held in one hand. Logan offered him a savage, toothy grin and slung his arm around Rogue’s shoulders as he turned to escort her from the office.
* * *
Their breakfast at the little diner passed mostly without incident. They had stopped at the Explorer to drop off their bags and Rogue had taken a thin black sweater out of her duffle and pulled it on. Logan had then held her leather jacket for her as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.
Now, both of them having shrugged off their jackets, they were lingering over coffee and blithely ignoring the stares of the wait staff and the customers who had the look of regulars hanging about them.
“Two questions fer ya, sugar,” Rogue said.
“Shoot,” Logan grunted and took another sip of his coffee.
“One: why do ya think they’re all starin’ at us?” She pitched her voice loud enough that it would carry throughout the small room. “And two: do ya think it’s too early to get a slice o’ chocolate cake?”
Logan chuckled and shook his head at her, but decided to play along. He said loudly, “To answer your first question, I’m sure these folks are too polite to do anythin’ like stare at us, darlin’.” Rogue almost laughed at how quickly eyes were averted and backs were turned. “And for your second question…” Logan turned toward the counter. “Can we get a slice of chocolate cake over here?” The waitress nodded without looking up from the cup of coffee she was pouring.
The beaming smile Rogue gave him was a little too enthusiastic to match the situation and Logan felt his eyebrow lift questioningly.
“Wasn’t sure you noticed ‘em starin’,” he said quietly.
“Course Ah did. It didn’t feel mean or anythin’, though, so Ah put up with it as long as Ah could. Ah finally just got sick enough of it to say somethin’.”
“People in small towns tend to stare a lot at unfamiliar faces,” Logan explained, “although this is the first time that’s happened to me.” He grinned.
“Ya normally scare ‘em off with a growl, do ya, sugar?”
Logan snorted. “Close enough.” The waitress interrupted them long enough to put a large slice of cake in front of Rogue and to refill their coffee cups. “Bill, when you’ve got a chance,” Logan said to her. Again, the waitress nodded wordlessly.
“Not too friendly, are they?” Rogue asked around a mouthful of dessert.
Logan made a noncommittal sound and moved on to his next question. “You don’t eat cake at breakfast. What’s up, darlin’?”
Rogue sighed and leaned back in the booth. “Ah guess it’s another rebellion like the thing with the clerk this mornin’,” she said after a while. She pushed crumbs of cake around with her fork as she slowly lifted her eyes to Logan’s.
He saw something like shadows sliding behind the pretty brown and didn’t care for the way it made her look older than she should. And tired; the shadows made her look tired the way no amount of missed sleep ever could.
Logan carefully put his mug aside and slumped against the padded backrest. He stretched his legs out until they rested on either side of Rogue’s feet and nudged her left ankle with his right boot. She jumped a little and gave him a wan smile before taking another small bite of cake.
“If the ‘rebellions’ are helpin’, Marie, there’s nothin’ wrong with ‘em.” Logan wondered for a brief moment why Wolverine was silent. Normally, he had varied and colorful advice to offer during his conversations with Rogue.
“Ah –” Rogue’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Ah don’t know if they’re helpin’, Logan.” Her shoulders drooped as she spoke. “L-last night would have been a rebellion of sorts too, ya know. An’ if ya hadn’t stopped me…” Rogue shrugged.
Oh, Logan thought, at a loss what to say next.
“So, Ah guess what Ah’m sayin’ is maybe Ah lack perspective in what Ah’m doin’?” The look she gave him was pure vulnerability edged with anxiety.
Logan realized with a sense of surprise that he knew how to respond to that look if not to her words. “Marie. Don’t worry about it. You know I’d never let anythin’ happen to you.”
She looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Don’t take this as an accusation or anythin’, ‘cause Ah don’t mean it as one, okay?” Rogue waited for Logan’s cautious nod before continuing. “Ah know ya’d never mean to let anythin’ happen to me, Logan. But ya can’t protect me from everythin’.”
“Bullshit,” Logan returned instinctively. “I’ll keep you safe even if it kills me.”
The smile Rogue gave him squeezed his heart in a tight little fist; it was edged with the same sadness and tiredness he had seen in her eyes. “Logan, Ah don’t want to be protected like that.”
“What d’you mean?” The slight swell of panic he felt at her words had him raising his voice as he sat up abruptly. He was vaguely aware of the curious glances aimed at them, but chose to ignore them for the moment.
“It means,” Rogue said slowly, holding Logan’s gaze with her own, “that Ah don’t want ya to get hurt just to keep me from bein’ hurt.”
“I heal, darlin’.”
Rogue ran her hands through her hair in a jerky motion. “Ah’m not talkin’ ‘bout physical hurt, sugar.”
“Oh.” Logan slumped back again. “You talkin’ ‘bout last night, then?” he ventured.
Rogue blushed faintly. “Yeah. If…if ya had done what Ah wanted ya to, we wouldn’t be sittin’ here right now.”
“Yeah,” Logan grunted. “I kinda figured.”
“But anyway,” Rogue said hurriedly, “that’s what Ah was talkin’ ‘bout when Ah said Ah lacked perspective. The guy this mornin’, an’ mouthin’ off to a diner full of curious people…Ah don’t know if they were the right thing to do…probably not, but they’re things Ah only felt safe doin’ ‘cause ya’re with me. An’ if ya hadn’t stopped me last night, Ah’d be off doin’ who knows what all by myself. Do – do ya know what Ah’m sayin’, Logan?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I get ya, Marie. It’s kinda like what happened after Jeannie died…ya kept me grounded. Even when I went off and did somethin’ stupid – like the night I ended up in jail after that bar fight – you were there to bring me back to myself.”
Rogue’s face cleared. “Exactly,” she said. “Ya keep me grounded. So don’t go sayin’ ya’ll die to keep me safe, an’ don’t let me do anythin’ that would drive ya away. If ya’re not here with me, Ah’ll be lost.”
Rogue picked up her fork again and finished the rest of her cake with evident enjoyment while Logan sipped at his now cool coffee. The waitress arrived a moment later with their bill, and checking the amount quickly, Logan dropped a few bills on the table and stood up. He slid his jacket on easily and once again held Rogue’s for her. After she shrugged to settle it in place, Logan dropped his hands onto her shoulders and squeezed gently. Rogue tipped her head back to glance up at him and lifted her right hand to rest briefly over his. They shared a smile and the moment fell away when they dropped their hands and moved toward the door and out into the cold, crisp air.
* * *
Logan was biting his tongue to keep from laughing. They had been driving north and west for almost ten hours, with only a quick stop for food and gas and a call to the professor which had ended after only a couple minutes. Rogue had fallen asleep about thirty miles ago, her head tipping back against the headrest. Sometime in the last minute, her mouth had fallen open and she had begun to snore. The soft snuffling sound, somewhat like the indecipherable fuzz from an untuned radio, was loud in Logan’s sensitive ears. He thought the snore was adorable, and not funny by itself, but Wolverine was in rare humorous form and began mimicking the sound between snorts of mirth.
Come on. It’s funny, Wolverine insisted.
Not really. It’s just snorin’.
Not really, came the mocking reply. It’s too damn funny for words. ‘Cause you know that Rogue, badass of the younger X-men group, would be mortified to be caught snorin’.
Logan snorted and quickly looked at Rogue to make sure he hadn’t woken her. He went right back to biting his tongue, though, as he saw the slightest hint of drool glistening at the corner of her mouth.
Wolverine’s laughter became more of a howl.
Quit it, Logan chastised.
Not a chance in hell, Wolverine vowed. He again mimicked Rogue’s snoring and this time shoved a cartoonish image of her with a string of drool hanging from her mouth into the forefront of Logan’s mind. Somehow obscuring his own vision for a moment, the Explorer swerved and Logan cursed. Beside him, Rogue’s snores were cut off with a startled snort.
Rogue lifted her head and looked around dazedly. “Whatsa matter?” She absentmindedly wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her ungloved hand, grimacing at the wetness. Logan couldn’t contain his laughter anymore.
He laughed until his stomach started to hurt, quite a feat considering his healing factor, and when Rogue just sat blinking at him in confusion and concern, he laughed some more. Wolverine was smart enough not to shove any more pictures in his face, so he managed to stay on the road, despite the slight weaving of the vehicle.
It was perhaps due to the unfamiliar haze of tears filling his eyes that he did not notice the flashing lights right away. Logan continued driving a somewhat crooked path while he laughed and unsuccessfully tried to wipe the tears from his eyes and ignored Rogue tugging at his sleeve.
“Uh, Logan…” She knuckled the sleep from the corner of one eye.
Wolverine’s howls of laughter were renewed, as were his own.
W-why is this so funny? Logan asked him in confusion, surprised that his mental voice seemed out of breath from laughter.
‘Cause we’re the only ones who ever see this side of her. And you know that if you told anybody back at the mansion, they wouldn’t believe it any more than they’d believe it about us. Little Marie has a badass reputation that nobody else can see past. Just like us.
Logan snorted, aware of Rogue’s hand gripping his elbow. Not like anybody’d believe me laughin’ so hard I’m cryin’ either.
True, Wolverine acknowledged. But seriously, enough now. See what our girl wants before she thinks you’ve completely lost your mind.
Logan came back to himself in slow pieces and turned toward Rogue. She was still tugging on his sleeve, but he was surprised to find she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she was turned half around in her seat peering out the back window.
Logan blinked rapidly to clear the last of the tears out of his eyes and started to ask, “What’s up, Marie,” when the short wail of a siren cut him off.
“Shit!” Logan growled when he looked in the rearview mirror to see the white police SUV following close behind. “How long has he been there, darlin’?”
“Since right after I woke up, I think.”
“Shit!” Logan cursed again and thumped the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. He stepped lightly on the brake and pulled the Explorer over to the shoulder of the road. Rogue was already rummaging around in the glove box for the vehicle’s registration, which she quietly passed to Logan when she found it. She reached into the compartment again and pulled out two envelopes addressed to each of them. She opened her own quickly and found a driver’s license and birth certificate, as well as a passport. Logan reached for his and tipped the contents into his lap and tossed the envelope back to Rogue. She shoved both empty envelopes into the glove box and snapped the door closed.
“Logan Xavier?” Logan read in disbelief, quickly memorizing the name, birthdate, and address on his new ID.
“Marie Grey,” Rogue said softly, and Logan turned quickly to stare at her. Oddly enough, he wasn’t upset at hearing part of Jean’s name. What bothered him was that the professor had obviously known Rogue’s real name.
Logan leaned slightly closer until he could read the vital information from Rogue’s passport. “Age twenty-one – looks like he kept your real birthday there – and the address is the same as mine?”
“What’re we gonna—” Rogue’s question was cut off by the police officer rapping on Logan’s window.
“Wing it,” Logan muttered in response as he hit the button to lower his window.
Logan didn’t speak, and neither did the officer for a moment. The man stared at him hard from under the brim of his hat, his eyes flickering over once to look at Rogue.
“Registration and ID,” the man said. Logan wordlessly handed them over. The officer looked them over slowly before passing them back through the window without asking any questions about them.
“We weren’t speeding, were we officer?” Rogue leaned forward to look around Logan as she asked the question. The officer didn’t answer her.
“Have you been drinking, sir?”
Logan blinked in surprise. “No.”
“You haven’t had anything at all to drink in the last few hours?”
“I already said ‘no’,” Logan replied in a near growl.
“Logan!” Marie hissed. “Don’t get nasty with him. He’s only doin’ his job.”
Logan clenched his jaw and didn’t reply.
“If you haven’t been drinking,” the officer continued in a calm, slow voice, “can you explain why you were swerving across the center line?”
Logan felt the faintest wave of warmth sweep over his face as he cut a glance at Rogue. He muttered a quick answer to the officer. Rogue and the officer frowned.
“What was that, sir?”
Logan muttered again, and the officer’s hand dropped to the baton at his belt. The officer looked again at Rogue and narrowed his eyes.
“Are you all right, miss?”
Rogue blinked in surprise. “Ah’m fine,” she answered, her confusion evident in her tone. The officer relaxed the slightest bit.
“Miss, you tell me. Why was this vehicle swerving all over the road?”
“Darned if Ah know. One minute Ah was sleepin’ an’ the next, he’s laughin’ like a loon.”
The officer frowned. “Are you on any sort of medication, sir?”
Rogue snorted a laugh and Logan glared at her.
“No,” he ground out.
“Do you use any recreational drugs?”
“No.” The word was a heated snarl.
The officer stepped back and drew the baton out of its holder. “Step out of the vehicle, sir.”
“What?” Logan shook his head. “Listen, I haven’t been drinkin’ and I’m not on any drugs, legal or otherwise. Somethin’ was funny and I was laughin’ too hard to see straight. That’s all.”
“And what was funny?” The officer didn’t relax his stance at all.
Logan mumbled a reply.
“Sir! You’re going to have to speak up,” the officer warned sternly.
“Logan, just tell him,” Rogue said, her tone not quite pleading, but close.
“Fine,” Logan sighed. “She was snorin’,” he confessed, jerking his thumb toward Rogue.
“Ah was not!” Rogue gasped.
“Were too,” Logan said, grinning. “Was cute too.”
“Ah. Do. Not. Snore,” Rogue enunciated carefully through gritted teeth.
“Well, apparently you do, darlin’.” Logan was aware of the police officer looking back and forth between them as they bickered.
“Fine. Care to imitate this alleged snore then?”
“Hell no.”
“Well, until Ah hear it, Ah maintain that Ah do not snore an’ ye’re just makin’ up some story to cover up that ya were pro’ly thinkin’ lecherous thoughts an’ weren’t payin’ attention to yer drivin’.” Rogue turned her head away from him and crossed her arms over her chest.
Logan gaped at the childish display and heard something suspiciously like a laugh from the man outside his window.
“I won’t imitate it, but I can describe it.” Logan grinned toothily and winked at the officer. “It was all soft and snuffly, kinda like a pig rootin’ around for a comfortable sleepin’ spot.”
“Logan!” Rogue snapped, and punched his arm. Hard.
“Ow.” He cradled his arm briefly for show. “I understand you’re embarrassed, darlin’, but there’s no need to get violent.”
“Ah’ll show ya violent!” Rogue vowed, brandishing a fist in the air.
“Now, miss,” the officer interrupted with a slight hint of alarm. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m sure the gentleman’s sorry for his rather…insensitive description of your snoring.”
“Ah don’t snore!” Rogue said stubbornly.
“Tell you what, sweetheart. We’ll stop in the next town to buy a tape recorder and that way you’ll have proof before the week’s out.”
“Jackass!”
Logan grinned unrepentantly. “I will admit, though, that snorin’s rare for you. This was the first time I heard it. That’s pro’ly why I thought it was so funny. Badass girl of the mansion, makin’ noises like a cute little critter.”
Rogue smiled reluctantly. Logan felt the Wolverine prodding at him and couldn’t resist his next comment.
“It was the drool that had me swervin’ all over the road, though.”
Rogue gave a wordless shriek and quickly wiped her mouth and chin with her sleeve.
The police officer was openly laughing by this point, and the glare Rogue gave him only increased his mirth. Rogue huffed and crossed her arms again.
“Aw, come on, darlin’. Don’t be angry,” Logan cajoled. “It really was cute, and I’m sorry I laughed.”
Rogue unbent enough to give him a regal little nod of acknowledgement. “Can we go then, officer?” she asked.
The man gave one last chuckle and nodded. “Sure. You folks gonna be on the road much longer? It’s going to get dark soon.”
“Thought we’d stop in Bronson,” Logan said. “Saw a sign for a Teak’s Bar and Motel?”
“Listen,” the officer said, suddenly somber. “You don’t want to be stopping there. The bar’s the only place in town that serves food and it’s a little too rough for a lady. Rumor has it they have organized fights.”
Logan frowned, but Rogue seemed unperturbed by the news. Wolverine was intrigued and was clamoring to get in on the possible fights. “What’s the next closest place to stop for the night?” Logan asked.
“About another hour or so past Bronson.”
Logan’s frown deepened. That would have them on the road for at least another two hours. “All right. Thanks.”
The officer nodded and turned to walk away. Logan looked at Rogue.
“Want to keep drivin’, or stop in Bronson?”
Rogue shrugged. “Bronson,” she said. “Ah’m too tired to stay in the car any longer than that. ‘Sides. Ah’m hungry as hell.”
Logan merely nodded and pulled back onto the road as he tried to ignore the feeling of savage satisfaction from both the Wolverine and himself at the prospect of a fight.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I lied, albeit unintentionally. Life has fallen to crap again, so I haven't had much time for writing. Been working on this a page or two at a time before work. Anyway, this chapter is full of Logan/Rogue interaction and some introspective moments. Enjoy!