At dinner, Wolverine went through the line with two trays at once, then wolfed down enough food to choke a battalion on deployment. Zerker and Lanche were alright guys, someone to sit with anyways and get the dirt on which chicks put out around the joint. Turned out quite a few, but it was tricky b/c apparently this place had some serious surveillance hardware.
Xavier and his staff apparently knew what was on the minds of a couple hundred horny teenagers living together with no parental units in sight. So there was a tight curfew of 10pm Sunday-Thursday and midnight Friday and Saturday. The school was locked up tighter than a nun’s snatch at curfew, and the girls and boy’s dorms were on opposite sides of the Institute.
But Lanche assured him there were plenty of ways around it, especially if you were banging a girl who could walk through walls. “No shit? Kitty? Don’t her voice drive you fucking nuts?” Wolverine looked over at the petite brunette who was chattering away with some other girls, oblivious that Lanche was expounding on the finer points of her blowjob technique.
“Nah, she’s a dirty talker. It’s hot,” he confided. “Besides there’s not a lot of conversation. We don’t date, she’s just slumming it with me,” he said carelessly, but Wolverine could detect a trace of disappointment coming from Avalanche as his eyes skimmed a little too carelessly over Kitty. Oh yeh, this guy had it bad and didn’t want to be just her dirty little secret. Pansy.
Bezerker was chilling with a human girl from town, nothing special. His gift with electricity made it a cinch for him to disable the electronic locks to sneak out to meet her at the lake on the far side of the grounds.
“Interesting,” Wolverine mused as she scoped out the potential tail in the cafeteria. Not a bad lot, not at all. That chick with the green hair and eyes looked interesting. And that slick looking Asian chick was fine, but the yellow would have to go. Hmm. No hotties as fine as that Rogue character, but lots of potential here. “Rogue live here?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual, don’t-really-give-a-fuck, manner.
No dice. Avalanche leveled him with a look. “Dude, I’m serious. Don’t mess with Rogue, she will fuck up your world. I’ve spent more time in detention, KP, and the police station since she got here than I’d ever done in my whole damn life...and that’s a lot to begin with.”
Wolverine raised an eyebrow. “What? She your girl?” If so, tough shit, Wolverine did not hold to bros-before-hos.
Zerker laughed. “Hell, no, she’s his cousin. She came to Westchester High two years ago after her folks booted her out. Lance is just annoyed she’s more trouble than he is.” Avalanche muttered something darkly then returned to shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth. “You like the quiet life now, right?” Zerker elbowed his friend hard in the ribs, making him choke. Lanche shoved back and managed to spill his drink onto his pal, causing Zerker to momentarily short circuit and shock the shit of all 3 of them.
“Quit fucking around!” Wolverine snarled, trying to smash his hair back down from where it has stood on end from Zerker’s discharge. After dinner the two guys offered to take Wolverine down to the rec room, but he was tired as hell. It had been a long day and he wasn’t used to being around so many freaks like him.
He felt like he’d strained his neck staring around at all of them. One big ass dude covered in metal, some staffer sitting with Xavier had big-ass white wings sprouting from his back, one kid was making if snow over a few tables, and some mega-nerd had almost mown Wolverine down in the hallway ad he followed the big blue Dr. McCoy talking a mile a minute and waving his freaky looking metal arm with a bunch of wires and things sticking out of it. And don’t even get him started on the fliers and floaters. That was just damn weird.
What he needed was some peace and quiet. The place was like a damn circus, way too many kids making all sorts of bizarre noises and visual effects. Made his damn head hurt, and that was rare. He found his room by following the mental map Xavier had shared with him. It was tucked up on the top floor of the Institute, near the back of the building. His room was just to his liking, small, nothing fancy, just a dresser, closet, desk, and double bed. Best of all, a private bathroom. With his enhanced senses, the shared bathrooms he’d lived with for almost all his time in the foster system had been one of the hardest things to deal with. There weren’t enough matches in the world to eliminate the kind of stink half a dozen boys could make in an enclosed space.
Thankfully his junk was here in the two boxes his case worker had dropped off. Wolverine didn’t own much in the world and lived like a nomad mostly. But what he did own he protected fiercely. A few pairs of jeans, extra set of boots, winter coat, leather gloves, mess of t-shirts, couple of books. His favorites: The Dirt by Motley Crue, 1984, Catcher in the Rye. Typical angry teenage boy junk. But there were a few that were his particular favorites: The Art of War, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway.
There was something to be said for those old bastards. They really got it. One knew how to survive by knowing yourself and figuring out everyone else’s angle. And what wasn’t to like about a personal philosophy built around a cross-country bike ride. And Hemingway, well that guy was in a class by himself. Just man vs. nature. Good shit.
Wolverine tossed Old Man onto the bed, figuring he’d read a bit of it again after he showered. Ernest soothed him, that guy was a man’s man and just falling into a book written in such a sparse yet self-assured style was a good way to unwind. Wolverine checked out the bathroom. Sweet. Good towels, basic shampoo, soap, toothpaste, nothing fancy or fruity. Basic, just his thing.
He groaned in pleasure when he stepped under the spray. Good to know Xavier didn’t skimp on the important shit, like water pressure hard enough to pound you through the tile. Suddenly really damn tired, Wolverine sat on the floor of the bathtub and let it pour over him, soothing away shoulder muscles that had been tensed into rock hard bunches since he’d stepped out of his case worker’s car that morning. Long ass day.
This place might be a step above, ok 10 steps above, where he’d lived before, but it was still a kinda of prison. And one that was populated by mutants as weird as him, and some big pains in the ass like Cyke, and probably some of his asshole buddies Wolverine hadn’t yet met.
Despite the nicer than usual trappings, Wolverine knew this was going to be another pain in the ass, and that he needed to fly right or he could kiss good water pressure and private rooms goodbye and say hello “pound-you-in-the-ass-prison” as his caseworker had quaintly termed it. As much as he enjoyed giving the finger to the establishment in general, he wasn’t particularly keen on going to the joint. He heard what happened to muties in there. No enough money in the prison system to segregate them, so getting thrown into a general population where the ratio of 100 normals to each mutant wasn’t his idea of a fun time.
Such thoughts aggravated him, so he banished them as he scrubbed the soap from his face, toweled off and flopped down on his bed naked. At least now he could sleep in the buff. Funnily enough, his previous roommates hadn’t appreciated the display and he’d been forced to kip in boxers and a shirt. He chalked it up to their own insecurity or rampant homophobia. Whatever, it was just more comfortable. Bonus to the private room was now he could take care of his morning wood without having to sneak to the bathroom. Having a fantasy of banging one of those Victoria Secret models interrupted by someone shouting at him hey had to take a dump really put a damper on a good jerk.
He fell asleep reading, but woke up a few hours later, still the middle of the night. Just a long ingrained habit, a combination of sleeping lightly because you never knew when one of your bunkmates might decide to jump your sleeping ass and pummel you for no reason, and knowing that this was the best time of night to do something you know the powers that be wouldn’t approve of.
Wolverine put on his jeans and black t-shirt, stuffed his lighter and cigarettes in his back pocket and listened at the door. No sound, excellent. Engage stealth mode.
He opened the door and took two steps into the doorway before a piercing sound stabbed into his ears. He clapped his hands to his head and snarled. What the fuck?! A whoosh of moving air and the winged guy was landing before him. He clicked a remote at his waist and the infernal noise stopped.
“What the hell was that?” Wolverine growled, shaking his head to stop the ringing in his ears.
“Door alarm. No going out after curfew. New kid, right?” Wolverine nodded sullenly. Yup, definitely a jail. “Since you’re new, you get a free pass.” Wings smiled at him. “Next time it’s KP duty, cool?”
The kid put a convincing expression of nonchalance and shrugged, “Whatever.”
Wings extended a hand, “I’m Warren.” The surly dark haired teen looked at the hand skeptically for a moment before shaking it.
“Wolverine.”
“Right. Gotcha. They call me Angel.” Wolverine sniggered at the pansy-assed name. Angel didn’t seem bothered by it, he probably heard it all the time. “Anyways, where were you going?”
“Wanted a smoke,” the boy grunted.
“No smoking on campus.” Of course. At least in jail they let you have a damn cigarette. “Back to bed.”
Wolverine’s hackles raised at that. “Thanks, Dad,” he sneered and closed his door in Angel’s amused face. No smoking on campus. Fuck that.
Soon as he heard Angel’s departure Wolverine checked the window. No trace of alarms that he could tell. Probably didn’t think they needed it on the top floor. Logan pushed up the window and pulled the screen into the room. He stuck his head out and looked up. Yup, the gutter was right there. He crawled out and balanced on the sill, reaching above his head. It was almost in reach and for the hundredth time he cursed being so damn short. Just hoped it was sturdy. If not, well he’d know soon enough. Thank god for healing factor.
He jumped, held his breath as he hung from the eaves then released it as the gutter held firm. He swung to the side hard twice then used the momentum to fling his right leg up and onto the roof. He hauled himself up easily and turned to look down over 50 feet to the ground.
“Damn I’m good,” he said in satisfaction and dusted his hands off.
“That you are,” drawled a voice. He spun around with a growl, claws tearing through his flesh. Rogue. Alriiiiiiiiiiiight. “Good so see you’re upright.”
“Huh?” he slid the claws back in, no point in freaking her out. Chicks tended to get a little tetchy about them.
“Normal guys are out for at least a day after I get a hold of them,” she grinned around the cigarette that dangled from her lips.
“Well,” he said, walking over to her. “I ain’t yer normal guy.” He grinned back.
Shit, she looked even better in the dark. Well, most girls did, but this one really did. The white streak in her hair and that ghost white face almost floated in the dark. He hadn’t known spooky was hot, but now he did.
She was wearing dark jeans, some sick knee high combat boots and a hoodie with the name of one of his favorite bands splashed across her chest. A chest he could clearly remember getting an eyeful of earlier. Wonder if she’s wearing black lace under that? Mmm, maybe red, he liked red. Or purple. Or nothing. Yeh, nothing.
“No shit, Claws.”
“Thanks, Streaks.” He could play this game. He was a goddamned chess master at girls.
She drew on her smoke and blew nice little rings at his face. “Rogue.”
He nodded. “Wolverine.” He sat down next to her, not too close, don’t want to seem desperate. Play it cool, Canadian lager cool.
“Yeh, I know, I got that from your head.” He shot her the eyebrow as he lit his cigarette. “When I touch someone I get a hit of their memories, sometimes a lot if I hold on for a while. Get a mutant’s powers too for a while.”
“That’s kinda cool.” Shit, she could take anyone else’s powers. That is so kick ass. “So, like what ya saw in my head?” He smirked at her.
“Hmmm,” she said noncommittally. Damn, she could play it cool too. He wasn’t going to rise to the bait, push for an answer, even if he was kinda dying to know. “Your senses are kinda interesting. But not fun. I couldn’t hardly concentrate, the smell from my bike was choking me.” She pulled at face at the memory.
“Check if yer burning oil or maybe ya get a longer exhaust pipe, helps clear the smell away. But if ya ride yer always gonna get a stink.” He examined the cherry of his smoke and thought back wistfully on the bike he’d rebuilt from scrap a couple of years ago.
“You know bikes?” Rogue voice piqued in curiosity.
“Hell yeh, I had a sweet ’72 shovelhead I got from a junkyard. Took 7 months but I got her working.” God he missed that bike.
“Nice,” she said appreciatively. “Where is it? Did you bring it with you?” Fuck, he could hear the excitement in her voice. She wanted a ride. He'd give her one, damn straight.
He sighed in genuine regret. “No dice. Wrapped it around the bumper of an Escalade at 70 few months back.” She sighed in regret too.
“So you heal? That why you’re not dead meat after a crash like that?”
Wolverine almost puffed out his chest with pride, but reminded himself he was supposed to play it cool. He was frosty. He was Mr. Sub-zero. “Yeh,” he said in a practiced, bored tone, like his own mutations wasn’t totally kickass too.
She opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when they both heard a noise from below, a hiss.
“Busted?” Wolverine whispered, but Rogue shook her head, tip-toed over to the roof’s edge and peered over. She looked over her should at Wolverine and grinned at him.
“Nah. Hey, I guess I owe you a smoke.” She reached unzipped her hoodie, hot damn another mesh shirt with bra all on display, too dark to tell the color. Crap. He'd been hoping for nothing. Maybe later.
She pulled out a joint she’d apparently been hiding and flicked it to him. “Later,” she said with a grin then walked over to the edge of the roof, stepped off into thin air, and plunged from sight.
Wolverine flung himself at the edge, too late to grab her. Face over the side he saw her fall straight into the arms of a big, shaggy looking blonde guy who caught her easily. The guy settled Rogue onto her feet before looking up at the roof. Seeing Wolverine’s face peering over the edge, Blondie flicked him the bird before running with Rogue’s hand in his for the property wall. He grabbed her by the waist and easily jumped them over the 10 feet barrier with ease. Another mutant, not one from Xavier’s that was for sure.
Fuck, she had a boyfriend.
Oh well. All’s fair in lust and war and Wolverine was an expert at both. Blondie better not get too comfortable.
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Chapter End Notes:
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