Logan was sitting in his usual spot, on the usual patio, when Rogue joined him later that night. She had a glass of scotch in her hand as she sat in the chair next to him, and she gave him a faint smile and a nod by way of greeting.
“What did ya do to that boy?” Logan asked.
“Remy?”
“Who else?”
Rogue shrugged. “Fair enough. Not like anybody else, ‘sides you, dared to try an’ get close to me, after Ah’d talked to ‘em anyway.” She took a sip of scotch. “Ah worked with him, and the first day we met, he had his fiancee` with ‘im.”
“Belladonna?” Logan asked.
“Yeah. His now-ex, Ah believe. He told ya that she tried t’ kill him?”
Logan nodded.
Rogue nodded too. “Yeah, this was before that. Anyway, Remy’s always been a flirt, as Ah’m sure ya’ve guessed, an’ Bella let him, ‘cause she knew she could take down most any of the other women he flirted with, and didn’t have a problem advertisin’ the fact. Girls would get within an inch of invitin’ ‘emselves into his bed, but never quite go farther because a’ Bella, and how intimidatin’ she could be. Well...she went out of her way to tell me t’ keep ‘professional distance’ from her man.” The way Rogue said the words made it clear that she’d taken them as a challenge. “Ah hadn’t initially been that interested, and Bella’s little almost-threat had been more funny than anything, considerin’ my skin, but on some level...it provided an unspoken incentive, later, ‘cause Ah knew Ah could take him away from her.” She paused, biting her lip. “And maybe that incentive made it easier for me t’ think that his perception of me wasn’t as distorted as it was, but when Ah did look into his mind...it was a painful bit a’ dissonance, Ah’ll tell ya.” She sipped her scotch and grew rather quiet.
Logan swirled his beer thoughtfully, listening to the light hiss of bubbles as he did so. “So it was kinda like...me an’ Jeannie.”
Rogue gave a small, amused smirk and a light chuckle. “Yeah, Ah guess so.” She bit her lip for a moment. “But kinda not, too. ‘Cause in the end, he wanted me an’ Ah didn’t want to have him anymore, because in the end it wasn’t anything that Ah’d thought it was, and Ah ended up tellin’ him so. It wasn’t real pretty for a while there.” Another sip of scotch.
“That doesn’t explain the way he still looks at you now and then.”
Rogue sighed, idly tapping her fingers on the wood of the patio table. “We still had work t’ do, for our contracts. He was still sore about it, mostly ‘cause he felt bad, and was mad at himself, an’ then Bella tried t’ kill him before our last job together...and Ah don’t hate ‘im.” Her fingers tapped out part of some unknown song. “He was there, when we’d both gotten paid for our work. Ah had control of my skin, and he looked like he’d been dragged through Hell, and looked so damned guilty whenever he looked at me––So, before we parted ways, Ah kissed him senseless.” She smirked a little, and shook her head, but the amusement faded a bit as she kept going. “It was my way of lettin’ him know that he could stop feelin’ bad about me, and then sayin’ ‘adieu’ insteada ‘goodbye’ told him that he still couldn’t have me for anything more.”
Logan nodded thoughtfully. “That explains it.”
Rogue nodded back. Then she smirked a little. “You’re still tryin’ to figure out, though, if Ah didn’t go on a spree of sensory indulgence once Ah could control my skin.” She met his gaze, still smirking.
Logan shrugged, but smirked back. “I know I’d’ve wanted to get busy.”
Rogue shook her head and laughed a little bitterly. “Maybe Ah would’ve, if Ah hadn’t gone through what Ah did with Remy.” She swirled the remains of her scotch, then drained them and set the glass aside, her smile gone. “Ah’d found out that Ah wasn’t interested in lettin’ anybody close enough to me t’ touch me who didn’t know who they were touchin’, and Ah’d gotten all too aware a’ how people saw me, since Ah was determined not to make the same mistake twice.”
Logan considered this and looked at her face intently for a few long moments. When she looked up again and met his gaze, he found that he could see into them. What he saw caused an odd pressure in his chest; it was an uncharacteristically emotional response for him, even though his head remained clear. “I see,” he said finally.
Rogue smiled softly, sincerely. “Yeah. You do.”
Logan found himself smiling too, even as Rogue got to her feet, picking up her glass of scotch, and he was sure that she would leave him in contemplation again, as she had done before.
He was pleasantly surprised when she asked, “You want another beer, or should Ah just bring out another glass and the bottle of scotch for both of us?”
Logan’s smile widened even as his eyebrows raised a little. “The scotch.”
Rogue could feel his eyes on her as she briefly returned to the kitchen. When she shut the door quietly behind her, she realized with surprise that she was still smiling, and that her heartbeat was a little faster than usual. Even more surprising: she was not perturbed by it. I want to loose control with him, she thought to herself, and her smile widened as she grabbed another highball glass.
Logan watched her face as she poured scotch over the ice in his glass before handing it to him. He took it, his fingers brushing hers, and then reached out with his free hand to pull her forward by her waist. She let him, and even went a step further by sitting on his lap as she refilled her own glass, leaning her shoulder against his and resting her hand on the arm of his chair. Logan’s hand settled on her hip as he took a sip of scotch. Rogue lifted her legs and rested them over the other arm of his chair. Once he’d set his glass aside, Logan rested his other hand on her knee.
“You’re still being cautious,” he observed.
“Always,” she countered, meeting his gaze. As his fingers stroked the line of her hip through the fabric of her pants, Rogue was aware of her heartbeat increasing again. Logan’s body was solid under her, warm, and she found herself relaxing easily.
“What are you worried about?” His thumb traced a slow arc along her side.
Rogue turned her head a little, facing him a little more. “Not worried, but there are still unknowns, which makes me cautious; Ah don’t know anything about my own reactions to...being close, being touched, allowing myself to reach for what Ah want...things like that.”
“Mmm.” Logan leaned in and lightly nuzzled her neck.
Rogue’s eyes fluttered shut and her skin flushed faintly. Her breath stuttered for a moment.
Logan smiled. “Sensitive?”
“My––neck is. Knew that,” Rogue said, her voice somewhat strained.
“How sensitive?” Logan asked, his lips brushing her skin.
Rogue’s pulse quickened and her skin all but prickled under the light touch––hypersensitive. “Rather,” she replied distantly.
Logan gently nipped at the tender skin of her throat with his teeth, holding it there for a moment as his lips and tongue suckled, and he tasted her.
Rogue’s breath hitched, her grip on the arm of the chair tightening. She set down her glass on the table half-consciously, letting go of it before she accidentally crushed it. Her freed hand settled on Logan’s knee and squeezed. By the time his mouth pulled away, Rogue was nearly panting, but still managed to give a low whimper of protest. She gave a low sigh when his lips trailed higher, up to the corner of her jaw. She could feel the heat coming off her skin and collecting low in her belly: arousal. One of his hands was exploring the lines of her back, moving up until he cupped the back of her neck. He could smell how aroused she was, and she could feel, from beneath her thigh, him beginning to respond.
“How did you know?” Logan asked, his voice a low purr in her ear.
Oh, his voice––it sent a shiver down her spine. It took her a moment to clear her head enough to form coherent thoughts. “The shrapnel that left that big scar on my eyebrow––it’d made a lotta smaller cuts all along that side a’ my face, an’ my neck. Remy had t’ clean an’ bandage it. Nearly drove me up the wall.” And it had: all those ghost-light and tender touches all along her throat, and Remy leaned in so close, due to the dim light, that she could almost feel his breath; it had been the closest she’d ever gotten to loosing control and jumping that boy, skin and suspicion be damned.
Logan gave a faint, thoughtful rumble, and licked the side of her neck, noting the audible effect it had on her breathing. “He didn’t notice.”
“Didn’ have your senses, and when Ah’m tryin’ to keep composure, Ah can be pretty hard t’ read, Sugah,” She released her hold on the arm of his chair and instead curled her fingers into his hair, her thumb rubbing small circles on the nape of his neck; while he was not as sensitive as she was, she knew that it felt, to him, somewhat similar.
The low growl from the back of his throat, in response to her touch, confirmed it. “Maybe he’s right then, about be being a lucky sonofabitch.”
Rogue gave a soft laugh, dragging her short fingernails lightly down the back of his neck. “Ah heard him say somethin’ like that shortly after Ah’d made my exit.”
Logan’s grip on her knee tightened, and Rogue smiled a little, tangling her fingers in his hair again as her other hand traced little circles on his inner thigh. She tilted his head up and met his gaze. After a slight pause, she looked down at his lips, and leaned in to kiss him, smiling a little at the eagerness of his response. The exploratory sliding of their lips soon deepened, and Rogue gave a low purr at the taste of him, making Logan groan as he tried to pull her closer. Behind the lingering flavor of scotch, Rogue tasted like carmel, wine and rosemary.
The kiss was altogether brief, and seemed to calm them more than enflame them, and they parted reluctantly, but without difficulty; although Logan briefly prolonged it by catching Rogue’s lower lip in his teeth and sucking on it, but he eventually released it. Smiling, Rogue ran her tongue across her lightly bruised lip as she met Logan’s gaze.
“I want you,” she said.
Logan’s hand slid upward from her knee until his thumb almost brushed the juncture of her thighs, and there drew infuriatingly slow circles. Rogue purred again.
A crash sounded from somewhere near the door leading out to the patio.
Both Rogue and Logan tensed, turning to look at the door with suspicious eyes. “Dammit,” Logan growled.
“Ah concur.”
The patio door swung open after a moment, showing a disheveled and heavily embarrassed Jean Grey, with a hand partially covering her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Uhm. Sorry. I just...couldn’t sleep and came down to get some air and...” She took a deep breath and seemed to find her composure somewhat, lowering her hand to her side and managing to shoot them a slightly flustered glare; it failed to intimidate, mostly because her face was still very nearly the same color as her hair. “Please don’t have sex on the patio. This is a school.”
Rogue began sniggering helplessly, but quickly smothered it behind one hand, shooting Logan an amused look.
Logan himself was smirking rather evilly. “At least it ain’t the library.”
Jean flushed, if possible, even brighter. “That...that’s none of your-”
“Couldn’t really help it. Clean up better, next time.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Still can’t look at that desk the same way.”
Jean opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. After a few deep breaths, she finally managed to say, with some hint of amusement, “Yes, well, Logan...we didn’t get caught.”
Rogue snorted and shook her head, smirking; but Logan gave a reluctant groan and relented, “Fine. We’ll leave the patio.”
“Spoilsport,” Rogue accused in Jean’s direction, but she reluctantly slid out of Logan’s lap and picked up her glass of scotch. Her legs felt uncharacteristically shaky, but in a good way.
“I’m a teacher. It comes with the territory,” Jean countered, with a smile.
Logan got to his feet with audible complaint, adjusting himself noticeably in his jeans, causing the redhead to look away, blushing again. Rogue only smirked, swirling her scotch in its glass as her eyes flickered between Logan and Jean with amusement.
Logan settled a hand on Rogue’s lower back, only to be halted by Jean clearing her throat distinctly. He looked back at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Logan, can I talk to you for a second?”
Logan looked at Rogue who seemed amused, albeit a little disappointed. Under her breath, she whispered, “S’ok, Logan. It’ll just keep the game goin’, won’t it?” Rogue arched an eyebrow and smirked.
Logan smirked back. “That it will,” he murmured, and let her go. They both stepped into the kitchen, but only Rogue kept walking from there; Logan closed the door behind them and stayed in place, once more arching an eyebrow at Jean.
Once she was sure that Rogue was out of hearing range, Jean finally began: “Logan, can I ask...”
“Jealous, Jeannie?”
She snorted. “No. I just...hope you aren’t jumping headlong into this without worrying about how little we all know about this girl. She just showed up here a few days ago-”
“After sending letters for the last year.”
Jean sighed. “Are you sure that she’s who she says she is, Logan?”
Again, he tapped the side of his nose. “Damned sure, Jeannie.”
The redhead bit her lip. “You’re dead-set on pursuing her aren’t you?”
Logan smirked a little. “Pursuit is what I had goin’ for you, Jeannie. This is just a little different.” He set aside his long-forgotten glass of scotch on the table where Rogue had set her own. He noted that Rogue also hadn’t finished hers, or indeed taken a sip since their little interlude, and smirked. He’d hazard a guess that she, too, hadn’t wanted to wash away the taste of the kiss lingering on her tongue.
“I had noticed...that you stopped. Can I ask what changed?”
Logan leaned against the table, meeting Jean’s gaze easily. “Rogue. She gave me my life back. Did ya think that more than a hundred years of memories wouldn’t change anything?”
Jean hesitated, looking away. “Well––so few of your other, more overt habits didn’t really change...a hundred years?” Her brow furrowed, and Logan could tell that she was having trouble taking it all in.
“Yeah. And Rogue has even more memories in hers. From a psychic perspective, she’s almost twice my age.” He was smirking now.
Jean relaxed a little. “She’s at least told you about her past, then? Other than her resume?”
Logan nodded. “Not that I’m gonna share the info. You should know that.” He narrowed his eyes at her.
Jean shook her head. “Of course not. I just...she’s so solitary. I can’t fathom it. When I first manifested and ran away to try and find some quiet, the loneliness was almost suffocating.” Again, she shook her head. “And she seems to enjoy that exile. Even more than I think you ever did, Logan.”
Logan thought about it. “She’s a different breed, Jeannie. She an’ I both.”
She looked at him with those piercing green eyes of hers. “I’m beginning to see that, Logan, and I...I’m a little unnerved by it.”
“That’s because you coulda been like us, if things had been different, and if you’d had a tougher go of it––if you’d seen war. Maybe you still could become like us, but it wouldn’t be a pretty change.”
Jean’s brow furrowed. “What breed are you two, exactly?”
After a contemplative pause, he finally said, “We’re monsters with good intentions and a sense of honor, and we plan on keepin’ the people here from becomin’ like us. Like I said, it ain’t a pretty change.”
Jean thought about what she had seen on those few occasions Logan had asked her to look into his mind: blood and metal, burning flesh, pain and agony and war crimes. No. Not pretty at all. “I don’t like that you feel the need to call yourself a monster. You’re as human as the rest of us, Logan.”
Logan smirked, and there was something almost sad in the bitter amusement behind it. “C’mon, Jeannie. I know you’ve run across Nietzsche at some point. ‘Whoever fights monsters...’”
Jean could hear the quote finished in her mind, in the sad voice of Professor Xavier: Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you stare too long into an abyss, the abyss stares back into you. Again, she saw flickers of the horrors of Logan’s past. He had, by no real fault of his own, stared too long into the abyss. So, too, had Rogue. It all made abrupt and terrible sense. She shut her eyes. “I understand. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He emptied the glasses of scotch down the sink and started to walk out of the kitchen.
“And Logan?”
He looked back over his shoulder.
“Thank you.” The look on her face and the tone of her voice instilled the words with great meaning.
“No problem, Jeannie. G’night.”
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