It had been a really long night and the matches ran much later than expected, what with so many kids. Wolverine won the night after Quicksilver beat Rogue. The albino haired mutant had been too fast for her to get her draining hands on him and he’d managed to easily trip her three times. Wolverine, on the other hand, spent that fight watching Silver’s tricks and saw the kid had an easy to crack pattern, which he used to his advantage once their own match began. Silver relied too heavily on his speed and was overconfident in his ability to outmaneuver his opponent. What he didn’t count on was the fact that Wolverine’s analytical assessment of the previous match allowed him to anticipate the speedster’s next move. After allowing his white haired friend a few easy shots the surly teen counted mentally in his head as he watched the flashing form streak around him once again in what was now a painfully obvious counter clockwise figure eight.
Three…two…one…SLAM!
One heavy forearm shot out and Quicksilver clotheslined himself one it, turning a full backward flip in the air to land painfully on his face. Wolverine leapt on his pal’s back and twisted one rapidly flailing up arm and behind the other teen’s back in an excruciating arm lock that forced the wrist far up between the shoulder blades. A tap out followed shortly after and the rest of the kids split up while The House hung back another half hour counting up their take for the night.
“I love this game,” Lance muttered as he flipped through another stack of smaller bills, with Kitty to his left none-too-discreetly rubbing her leg against his. Silver double checked everyone’s count and distributed the final payout. Almost $400 for each of them in door and entry fees, plus the skim off the top of all bets, not including each one’s take from the fights they’d participated in. Wolverine made out better than everyone having won the tournament that night and, as such, half of the winnings, of everyone he’d beaten on the way. A cool $600 lay in his hands in addition to his House take.
“Gonna have to get me a fucking safe or something,” Wolverine laughed. He’d have to find a safe place to stash all this until he could get to town and a bank. In the meantime Rogue offered to keep it in her room, since few people dared to come in. He readily handed over his share, ogling in admiration as she slid down her suit zip and neatly tucked various denominations down her cleavage.
Pyro had his beat up old Pontiac so he dropped the Xavier kids a mile from the Institute. Zerker, Kitty, and Lanche ran ahead, phasing through the perimeter easily while Rogue and Wolverine took a circuitous walk around the grounds, talking about the night and stealing a few last kisses as the sun started to break the horizon. They said goodnight, or rather, good morning near their wing and split up to shimmy up their respective drainpipes on each side of the building to the top floor.
Wolverine pushed the window up, threw one leg over the sill and sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Damn, it had been a long night. Now it was time to hit the hay for a few hours then carf down enough lunch to fee an army. He stumbled over to this bed and sighed in relief at the gorgeous sight of it. He was prepared for a swan dive into sleep when something made him halt mid-collapse and the blood freeze in his veins.
“Late night, Wolverine?”
Angel. Damn him Satan’s rectum.
The blonde prison warden was leaning lazily on one shoulder, his wings spread seven feet across the wall behind him. He had one eyebrow raised and a sardonic smile playing across his way too even features. Wolverine contemplated making them asymmetrical for a moment before he realized he was in no position to do anything about it. The guy was a teacher, fuck it all.
“No shirt? Must’ve been an interesting evening,” Angel stated with an amused tone in his voice. It was annoyingly obvious the winged man was indecently enjoying pinning the teen like a bug.
Wolverine looked down, oh yeah, that. He’d forgotten to put it back on after Rogue threw it somewhere in the dark at the warehouses. Better bare chested than wearing his shirt splattered with Deadpool’s goo. Thank god for small favors.
A yelp down the hall spiked the quiet and Wolverine knew, without a doubt, Rogue had just been busted too.
“Yes, your little partner in crime has just been caught by Dr. McCoy,” Angel confirmed. “That where your shirt went?” Goddamnit, the guy definitely had a laugh in his voice. Grr.
Wolverine huffed in silent irritation. He wasn’t going to confirm or deny jack shit. When captured by the enemy a good soldier kept his fucking trap shut.
“Clean up and come to Xavier’s office in 30 minutes. He’s going to want to speak to you two and the others.”
Others? Shit, how many of them were caught? If they’d all been nabbed there was no way to salvage the situation. Someone might crack under pressure and blab all, or at the very least let something in their head leak so Xavier could snatch it from their thoughts.
Craaaaaaap.
“Thirty minutes,” Angel said again and walked out the door, shutting it firmly, but not before giving the teen a victorious grin the boy longed to cram back in his face with a double-decker fist sandwich. Wolverine waited for a minute then poked his head out the door, planning to sneak down to Rogue’s room and get their stories straight.
“Something I can help you with?” queried a voice and Wolverine jumped two feet in the air. Just to side of his doorframe was the furry blue doctor. Wolverine slammed the door quickly and leaned against it, breathing hard.
Fuck and double fuck!
He wasn’t ready for this; he didn’t want to leave this place or Rogue. He couldn’t picture Xavier letting his girl go, not when her powers were supposedly so dangerous. Neither of them of age to split without being dragged back unless they had some serious financial resources to get them from Xavier and the juvenile justice system’s reach. Wolverine was on probationary status as it was, so it was more than likely he’d get a one-way ticket to the slam while Rogue wound up on permanent lockdown at the Institute.
This was no kid’s table shit. They’d set up an underground fight club for muties, ran an illegal gambling operation, encouraged kids to whale on each other for fun and cash, and Wolverine had lopped off Deadpool’s hand a few hours ago. So what if the asshole could heal, HE’D CHOPPED A FUCKING GUY’S HAND OFF. He doubted Xavier would be able to see past that.
Seeing no obvious way to salvage the situation, Wolverine started sweating bullets. He’d do just about anything to avoid jail, even if it meant taking a header out the window and making a break for it. Realistically, he prayed to a God he was only on speaking terms with during dire emergencies that if he did some fast talking maybe he might just get sent to another halfway house, maybe Brotherhood. At least then he’d be nearby and see Rogue and the guys around.
No sign God was listening. He was probably busy helping Angel polish his snitch halo.
Wolverine sighed in defeat and went to take a shower. Might as well wash the stench of sweat and blood off himself and be somewhat presentable for his execution.
He spent the next 20 minutes under the pounding spray reliving his favorite moments at the Institute, most of which involved Rogue, some boxing, and that woodshop project he’d barely started. A highlight reel he hoped to take with him when his ass had gravel stuck in it from skidding down the driveway after the boot.
He felt like he was heading for the hangman’s noose when McCoy clapped one hand on his shoulder and steered him down the hall to Rogue’s room where the young woman stepped out with an equally defeated look on her face.
They looked guiltily at each other and walked behind McCoy as he led them downstairs. Rogue reached over and grabbed his hand hard, whispering, “I’m so sorry, sugar. I didn’t think they’d catch us. I just wanted to see you.” She shot him a desperate look and licked her lips, then jerked her head sharply at the blue back in front of them.
Riiiiight. “Didn’t think sneaking out would get us sent to the big man,” he whispered back, a little louder than strictly necessary. He squeezed her hand hard. “How much trouble we in?” He wished there was some way she could tell him for real how much flack they were about to catch.
“Week’s KP and lockdown when Angel caught Bobby out after hours fooling around in the greenhouse with Polaris,” she muttered. She caught his eye and mouthed “seriously deep shit” silently to him. A frown creased her forehead as she leaned it against his shoulder. They felt like mourners at a poorly attended funeral, probably their own.
They both saw one of the doctor’s furry blue ears twitch backwards, yup he was listening to their not so subtle whispers
“I’m on probation already, I don’t think I’ll get off that easy,” he grumbled sourly. “Think he’ll throw me out?” Rogue’s anguished face told him way more than he needed to know.
“They can’t toss you,” Rogue said loudly, with a nice spike of rising hysteria in her voice. “If Xavier does I’ll freak out!” She took a deep breath and collected herself, “It’s not fair, it’s just curfew!” She stomped her foot and Wolverine slid an arm around her waist before McCoy turned around.
“Quiet you two,” the beastly looking doctor rumbled. Rogue gave him the puppy dog eyes with an added touch of a few tears swimming in them. Wolverine just kept his head down with what he desperately hoped was a contrite air, and let Rogue drag him meekly behind her. McCoy looked the guilty couple over and sighed, “It’ll be okay, kids. I doubt the Professors wishes to expel all of you.”
Ugh, all of you. How many then? Not good.
They came down the last flight of stairs and McCoy steered the two miscreants to a bench across the hall from Xavier’s office. “Sit, he’ll call you in a few minutes.” Wolverine kept his head down until he felt a sharp nudge in his ribs. He looked over to Rogue who jerked her head to her opposite side.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Cyke and Jean were sitting right there, both of them both with furious looks on their faces.
“This is your fault,” Jean hissed at her boyfriend. “Did you have to leave me there for an hour before you grew the balls to come back and find me?” She punched the quarterback in the arm hard.
“Don’t blame me!” Cyke snarked back. “If it wasn’t for THEM,” he leaned around Jean and shot the other two Wolverine assumed was a dirty look behind his red sunglasses, “we wouldn’t have been out so fucking late and been nailed.”
Rogue tried to stifle a snort of laughter at the sight of their partners in punishment and failed miserably. Jean gave her an impressive shank eye. “Oh you just wait, bitch. Xavier’s going to know all about your little Underground now,” she whispered venomously.
Wolverine growled as he leaned around his own girlfriend to pin both preps with a dirty look that would make the Pope blush. “You rat on us you’re going down too. You signed the contracts,” he snarled.
Rogue shushed them, Xavier door was only feet away, but added, “You were ready to fight, right Quarterback?” Cyke’s face flushed as red as his shades. “You spill on M.U. and you’re in just as much trouble as us. We’ll throw your fucking contracts on Xavier’s desk.” She returned Jean’s eye daggers with interest.
The identical looks of confusion, then fear, on the Bully and Bitch’s face almost made Wolverine grin. Instead he leveled the cheerleader with a serious look, trying his damndest to keep a note of desperation out of his words. “Red, you’re the psychic. You better help us out in there if Xavier does brain surfing, or we’re all in dead meat.”
Jean started for a second at his statement, and then her eyes narrowed as she thought it over. Cyke swiveled his head to stare at his girlfriend, “You can’t seriously consider-“
“Shut up, Scott,” she snapped and held a hand up in his face to cut him off. “I’m trying to come up with an alibi for all of us, so be quiet!” She closed her eyes and raised her hands to her head. As she pressed her fingers to her temples the story flowed into Cyke, Rogue, and Wolverine’s heads.
A double-date? You’ve got to be kidding me.
“If we all agree to the same thing it’ll be easier to sell,” Jean hissed as she spun some more details of their combined date night, which was also a bury-the-hatchet meeting between the two boys.
If Xavier thinks we’re making an effort to get along he might buy this, Jean thought to all of them. Just stick to this story and don’t think of anything else. I’ll try to block him from going further than the surface.
Wolverine couldn’t help the small swoop of relief that snuck through him, and it annoyed him to no end when he felt Jean pick up on it. He almost threw her out of his brain in annoyance, but the cautiously hopeful look on Rogue’s face as Jean tapped the final touches of their alibi into their minds steeled his resolve.
“The professor will see you four now,” Angel announced. He held the door open and eyed the teens as they slid past him, heads appropriately low and postures decidedly slouchy as they faced Xavier. The stood awkwardly in front of the telepath, and he made no move to offer them seats.
“First of all, Wolverine and Rogue,” neither of the two made eye contact with the bald man but instead gripped each other’s hands more tightly, “I’d like to thank you for pointing out a weakness in our security system. Alarms will be installed on the living quarter windows by this evening.”
Rouge darted a look at her boyfriend, catching his eye. Damn. That was going to make things more difficult all over. Jean and Scott shifted uneasily. Guess they’d been exploiting that little loophole too.
“As for you two,” Xavier turned his attention to the QB and his cheerleader. “You seem to be under the impression I am fooled by a letters earned in sports and good grades, but I am well aware of your less than stellar behavior at school.” They visibly shrank under his penetrating gaze. “Behavior you should reconsider bringing under my roof.” The heat from their combined embarrassment raised the temperature in the room by several degrees.
“Now,” Xavier intoned as he steepled his fingers under his chin, “what were you four doing out all night?”
No one answered for a long moment, then Wolverine felt a feathery brush against his mind. He focused on the images Jean had poured into his head.
The four of them sneaking off grounds, meeting by the lake at the far edge of the property. Some snarking between the boys while their respective girlfriends diplomatically tried to make peace. Finally hands were shaken somewhat relectantly, some ruffled feathers smoothed by sweet talk from the girls, then they went to an all night diner.
Images of playing football with thediner’s folded comment cards shot between fingers held as uprights, a spilled drink that resulted in Wolverine looking like he had wet his pants. A footrace down the street with Cyke winning. Ending up by the lake again, the two couples splitting up to fool around on opposite banks, before sneaking back to the Institute.
Behind these pictures Xavier picked up Wolverine’s mind fluttering with half-formed, worrisome thoughts of being thrown out on the street or forced back to one of his previous halfway houses when he’d been subjected to occasionally violent treatment by other troubled teens. A fleeting thought of jail popped to prominence in the boy’s mind before Xavier felt the boy push it aside as Rogue’s face swam to the surface, accompanied by a surprisingly strong surge of emotion. The boy was clearly smitten with the dark haired loner girl and rather protective of her too. The boy seemed to think Rogue would be punished terribly, and he felt guilty over it.
The rest was unreadable, only fuzzy images accompanied by an indistinguishable buzzing that blurred away any further attempt at examination.
Xavier frowned and allowed his gaze to settle on Rogue, the same images of the evening floating to the surface of her mind, but coated over with a heavy dose of anxiety for Wolverine. The girl was exceptionally worried the dark boy would be expelled from the Institute, that she would be alone. A surprisingly strong, yet not unpleasant, feeling of pride and deep affection niggled at the edges of her worry over the boy and what might happen to him. Despite her anxiety Xavier sensed a wash of contentment in the young woman he’d not felt from her before, and he suspected the dark boy clutching her hand in his was the source.
Xavier was surprised at the depth of the two’s attachment and their concern for one another. He tried to probe deeper into Rogue’s mind but was met with an odd white noise that blocked further attempts, unless he wished to force his way and that something he would not do.
He read Jean and Cyclops easily, their minds much more familiar to him than the other two. The same play of pictures and thoughts, coupled with an understandable tinge of resentment towards the other couple. Xavier could tell the peace between the two pairs was uneasy but it appeared to be based on some sort of mutually protective arrangement. Almost as if the jock and popular girl were shielding the other couple for some unknown reason. Xavier was loathe to probe deeper over something as simple as what appeared to be typical teenage late night shenanigans, but that fuzzy white noise sensation he was picking up from all four was indisputably suspicious.
However, he had no proof in front of him of anything other than some curfew breaking and possible underage sex, and THAT something he had no legal right nor personal interest in regulating. Xavier sighed and sat back.
“Alright then,” he sighed; he had the distinct impression he’d been had, but couldn’t put his finger on how. “For the next two weeks you all have a 9pm curfew, no exceptions. No open hour visitation for any of you, either in your room or anyone else’s. Wolverine, your grades are still a concern, so I want you in the library studying for 2 hours each night after dinner. Rogue, you are not to leave campus and, to that purpose, I am confiscating your motorcycle. Jean, you are to assist Dr. McCoy in the science lab after school. Scott, you will work with Wolverine in the garage repairing Mr. Banks’ truck after school, along with any other vehicles that need attention.”
Cyke was the first to splutter, “But sir-“
“Can it, One-Eye,” Wolverine ground out. Even if he had to have old Cyke up his ass every day for the next fortnight it was much preferable to what he’d expected.
Jean pinched her boyfriend hard in agreement even as Rogue whimpered, under breath, “My bike…”
“S’alright darlin’, we’ll live,” he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She looked at him and nodded, suddenly very grateful her bike all she was going to lose.
“You’re dismissed, “ Xavier concluded. As the four teenagers scuttled away, Xavier was a sneaking suspicion he’d missed something very important. But these four weren’t the first troublemakers he’d dealt with, nor would they be the last. Every year there was a new crop of sneaky kids to handle, and Xavier was nothing if not patient in dealing with them. He’d figure it out, he always did.
McCoy escorted Jean and Cyke back to the group dorms as Angel hustled Wolverine and Rogue to their wing. They walked on front of him, hands clasped, sneaking winks and nudges at each other as Warren strolled behind them, happily lecturing them on their behavior and punishments.
“You know Xavier could have been much harder on you guys,” Angel said smugly. “Sneaking out isn’t fun and games to those of us charged with watching over you.”
Rogue crossed her eyes and pulled at face the winged man couldn’t see from behind her, and Wolverine had to smother his snort with a cough. “We’re tasked by the state with keeping you safe, and if you gallivant off to who knows where at all sorts of hours then we’ve failed the state and you,” Warren prattled with an impressively stentorian tone.
Wolverine flapped his lips silently in an exaggerated imitation as Rogue slapped one hand over her mouth. “And it’s dangerous to be off campus all night,’ Warren chided. “There’s all sorts of crazies out there just waiting to jump a couple of innocent kids and take their money.”
“What money?” Rogue asked innocently, even as she smiled to her man at the memory of all that cash hidden under the loose floorboard in her closet.
“What innocence?” Wolverine chimed in, momentarily lost in recollection of Rogue spread beneath him, gasping for him to lick her again.
“I’m serious, you two!” Warren snapped, and he laid a hand on each of their shoulder to turn them around. He leaned down to get more on their level, his wingtips brushing the floor and gave them both a look so earnest Wolverine was sure he’d just given himself a hernia as he clenched down the bark of laughter threatening to burst out of him.
“I know you both think you’re tough, but what would you do if some gang members tried to jump you?” The painful concern in Angel’s face was more than they could take.
“Suck their souls out through their skin?” Rogue asked politely as she wiggled her fingers in front of her face.
“Rip open their abdominal cavities and let them see their intestines hit the ground?” Wolverine said causally as he let the claws on his left fist slide free and tapped them against his knee.
“Put them in the hospital for a month with one touch of my finger?” Rogue’s face was cracking.
“Hang their kidneys around their necks like fuzzy dice?” Wolverine’s eyebrow had disappeared into his hairline as he remembered Wilson’s joke.
“Ok you guys,“ Angel fumed.
“Punch them in the gut so hard they throw up last Sunday’s church dinner?”
“Give ‘em a bone claw prostate exam?”
“Alright, alright.“ Angel’s hands wagged in their faces in a vain effort to shut them up.
“Kill them with a kiss?”
“Darlin’, what a way to go!” Wolverine announced as he grabbed Rogue and planted a wet one right on her lips.
“Enough!” With a swoosh Angel flapped his wings hard enough to send a furious gust of wind along the corridor and almost blow the two teens clutching heatedly at each other off their feet. They broke the kiss, but never bothered to look at him, their eyes only on each other.
Warren slapped a hand over his face. “Never mind…just…just go to your rooms.”
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