The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
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School was almost tolerable the following day. First period Wolverine was once again in the last row closest to the window when Cyke showed up to loom menacingly over him. “I ain’t telling you every day, runt. Out of my seat!”
Wolverine sat up from where he’d been slouched over the desktop. “All yours, slim,” he said airily as he got up, revealing a masterpiece of realism and vulgarity scratched into the desktop by one razor sharp claw. The portrayal of the jock taking his girlie from behind was painfully realistic, both is scale and detail, right down to Jean’s bitch face.
He should’ve been a damned artist, if he did say so himself.
Naturally, the shoving started quick and furious. Desks toppled over with Wolverine on top for a moment before Jean got a handful of his hair and with a loud screech she yanked hard and pulled him off her boyfriend. At that moment Dr. McCoy came in to start class, only to be met with the sight of the head cheerleader and quarterback ganging up on the new student. McCoy didn’t take kindly to sneaks or ambushes and growled warningly as he pushed through the gaggle of students to separate the combatants, just a tad too late to prevent Cyke from punching Wolverine right in the nose with a sick crunch. With a roar that parted the spectators like startled birds, the teacher reached down to grab the prom king and queen by their arms and pulled them off the boy.
As he sorted out shouted explanations from the three his eye fell on the spectacularly pornographic etching on the desk. “What is that, Mr. Summers?”
“He did it, that little motherfucker!” Cyke shouted, lunging again at Wolverine, who leaned casually against a desk and reset his nose with a gross cracking nose that drew impressed murmurs from the other kids.
“Language, Mr. Summers! That’s your desk, and why would this young man, who doesn’t even know you or Miss Grey, do that? And it's signed.” He gestured to the John Handcock Cyke had been kind enough to burn into the desk surface the day before. The couple spluttered half-formed explanations that fell apart under the teacher’s withering stare. “I think you two can come with me to Principal Darkholme’s office.” He pushed the two furious populars ahead of him towards the door. “Vandalism and fighting? I expected better from both of you,” he said severely before he looked over his shoulder. “Class, start reading chapter 11, I’ll be back in 5 minutes. No funny business.”
Wolverine settled smugly into his reclaimed seat behind the desecrated desk and was about to rest his cheek on Red’s artfully detailed tits for a snooze when McCoy said, “Young man, I suggest you go see the nurse.” Wolverine grinned, fuck yeh free period. He waited until McCoy turned the corner, dragging the unluckiest fucks at the school with him, and then headed in the opposite direction of the nurse’s office. Time for a quick smoke at the least, maybe a leisurely stroll around campus, stretch the old legs. Not a bad start to the morning.
The rest of the day was cake. With Avalanche and Bezerker at his back, he wasn't surprised to see a few others would be toughs show up behind the gym at lunch. They’d heard how he’d gotten in a fight, vandalized school property in front of a class full of kids, and managed to make the Bully and Bitch take the fall for all of it.
Wolverine was their kind of fuck-up, and they practically welcomed him with open arms. One interesting firebug had some Everclear and lit their smokes with his bare fingers. A silver-haired kid passed around his meds like candy, which Wolverine declined. Even if he wanted it, it would've passed through his system too quickly to be of use.
“YehIdon’tliketakingthisshitslowsmedownnotmythingIwasborntobefastyannowhatimean.”
Wolverine twisted one finger in his ear. This guy could seriously give Kitty a run for her money in the annoying department. Turned out the auctioneer chatter was the least of his speed, as demonstrated when Zerker ran out of smokes and Speedy was back in a flash with a fresh pack from the 7-11 down the street. Literally, you didn’t even see the little fucker move, just a shift to the side and a stiff breeze. Stellar.
“Quicksilver, for the love of god, take your Adderall. You're killing me, man!” the firestarter grumbled. Rebuffed, the silver haired kid chugged a few with a shot of Clear.
Turned out they lived at the local “poor man’s Xavier’s” for wayward mutants stuck in the juvenile justice system. Pyro had accidentally, he swore on his lighter, ignited a few mailboxes…in front of the post office, which was next to the police station. Quicksilver had been busted for shoplifting, only caught because his favorite store had finally invested in decent surveillance equipment to slow down the digital tape enough to actually see the hyperkinetic kid boost a bunch of laptops for the third time in as many months. They’d come damn near being convicted of felonies and were both finishing up their probation terms at the Brotherhood halfway house before maybe earning a shot at getting into Xavier’s.
Wolverine had never been convicted of anything more than petty misdemeanors. The assault case had folded when the kid refused to swear out a statement. From how the guys described Brotherhood House he was glad he’d skipped there and gone directly to the swankier place. BH sounded like a total dump.
“Xavier tried to help out,” Avalanche volunteered. “When I was there last year he offered to put on a new roof and fix bunch of other shit, but Mr. Magnus wouldn’t take it. Said he didn’t want ‘charity’,” he sneered is disbelief. “Fuck, we’re all charity cases, so I don’t what his deal is.”
“The basketball court’s all fucked up too,” Pyro grumbled as he fashioned a dragon out of the flame in his hand. He wanted to try out for the team, but didn’t have a decent place to practice except the school gym and that place was crawling with jock dickheads after school.
Wolverine took another swig of Clear. “Ya wanna come over and shoot some hoops?”
Zerker pointed out, “Gotta get permission from Xavier to have visitors on campus.”
Wolverine shrugged, “I’ll just tell him I’m just trying to meet some people, ain’t that what the new kid is ‘supposed to do’?” and he sketched sarcastic air quotes.
“Yeah, he’ll think it’s some personal growth shit,” Lanche laughed and ribbed him.
Wolverine told Pyro and Silver he’d get permission, and they’d have a game soon. Two more trouble-maker pals in his little gang. It was too easy. These guys acted like no one gave them the damn time of day around here, so they practically pounced on his easy offers of booze and pick-up games.
Christ. Fucking sucks to be a mutant even in Mutant High apparently. No matter what school he went to there was always the loser clique, usually alright guys who just got a lot of shit for his idea of fun. Delinquents, best pals a guy like Wolverine could have.
The bus ride was uneventful, as Cyke and Jean were relegated to the nerd zone in the front row as a result of their “unacceptable behavior” as Darkholme had put it as she embarrassed them by marching the gloomy twoseom onto the bus and announced they had to sit there for the next week. The other kids sniggered behind their hands until the principal got off the bus, then burst into jeering laughter at the two sulking populars. Wolverine had also heard they both got Saturday detention for a month for trying to whoops his ass.
Occasionally, he caught their death glares from the mirror over the bus driver’s head and laughed heartily. All was right in his world.
That green haired girl plopped herself next to him in the back row and peppered him with questions about if he’d really tried to give Cyke a bone claw prostate exam in geography. The rumors were flying wild and wicked about the new kid, each one funnier than the last. He didn’t bother to correct her, content to let her gaze at him awestruck. She wasn’t half bad; those green eyes were something else, like neon.
Zerker was all grins as he watched Polaris throw herself at his new pal. That chick was a social leech of the first order, ready to hitch herself to any guy higher up the food chain than herself. She wasn’t a half-bad kisser and had great tits, he knew from experience, but too temperamental for his taste, tended to throw giant hissy-fits when he’d hooked up with her briefly if he so much as looked at another girl. High-maintenance, that one. He’d warn Wolverine later.
Avalanche was too busy staring a hole in the back of Kitty’s head two rows in front of him to pay attention to anything.
Boxing class was fucking brilliant. Nice long warm-up on the punching bag, bare-knuckles naturally, Wolverine didn’t practice with any pansy assed gloves. There were half a dozen other guys in there, including Lance and the guy who could turn metal who he’d seen the day before. Blue demon, some kid with red on black eyes and a pretty rad looking Under Armor suit that went covered everything but a couple of fingers and part of his face. Some blonde wonder kid who tried unsuccessfully to pin Wolverine with a cold ass stare, and a kid with a scrubby crew cut and a hillbilly accent.
Wolverine took on the heavy bag while Avalanche held it, working it from a couple of sides, attacking it with a ferocity that eventually lead a couple of the other guys to stop their workouts and watch him. He snarled and punched, threw a couple of elbows and knee strikes as Lance rocked back with the force of the bag shoved against him repeatedly.
“Wolverine, this is boxing, not mixed martial arts,” Angel, the instructor, reminded him.
The kid took a breather and swiped sweat from his face with a forearm. “Well, you don’t offer MMA do ya? Gotta make do.” Angel smiled in understanding; that was why he’d proposed this class to Xavier. Teenage boys needed an outlet for their natural aggression, otherwise they were libel to pick fights just to tussle and try to prove their manliness.
But this new kid…well, he took natural aggression to a new level. It was like he was trying to kill that bag with every blow. Not very effective though, a good way to tire out quickly when you tried to make every hit a knock-out. Not a lot of finesse, but definitely natural ability and toughness. He’d just have to hone it with some skills. And he most definitely would be wearing gloves in class from now on. Angel had heard about those claws.
He made the guys pair up and work with focus mitts, after insisting Wolverine tape up tightly and put on practice gloves like the other students. The guys turns jabbing at the padded targets their partner held up while calling for jabs, uppercuts, hooks, undercuts, etc. Angel paired up Wolverine with Bobby, one of the more technically skilled students in the class. Satisfied they were off to a good start, Angel walked around the room, checking the others and calling out punches to test their reflexes, timing, and technique.
“You hit like my grandmother,” the blonde kid with the ice blue eyes taunted Wolverine. Each time the smaller teen tried to throw a punch Blue pulled his hands and let the blow sail past the focus gloves and force Wolverine off balance. “Can’t you hit shit?” he whispered as Angel walked past.
Wolverine snarled, “I see a shit I’m about to hit.” He threw a punishing roundhouse at Blue’s face, only to have the kid twist to the side and put a focus mitt over his face, knocking him down to the mat.
“Eat floor, runt,” Blue sneered. Clearly one of Cyke’s buddies.
“Needs salt,” Wolverine rumbled as he pushed to his feet and shot claws through the gloves.
Angel was there in a moment, shoving between the two boys. “Bobby, I saw that. Hit the showers!” He looked over at the feral teen with 6 menacing bone spikes ruining some not-inexpensive gloves. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. This boy was going to be a “challenge” as Xavier would put it. Warren would say pain in the ass was more fitting. “Colossus, would you partner up with Wolverine? Armor up so I don’t have to mop the floor later.”
The massive black haired guy walked over to Wolverine, took off a focus mitt, and held out his hand. “I am Piotr, do not vorry about Iceman. He is all talk.” Wolverine looked the guy over. He was massive, heavily muscled, easily 6’6” and in no way built like a teenager, but the youthful face that looked like it had never seen a razor reassured him the new kid wasn’t facing a full grown man, or a professional bouncer.
Wolverine retracted his claws, tore the Velcro off his glove with his teeth, and shook the giant’s hand. “You know that dick?” He nodded to the locker room where Iceman had stalked.
“Da, ve play on the vootball team together. He is a goot tight end, but not vedy nice,” Piotr grinned conspiratorially at the smaller teen who barely came up to his chest.
“Yeh, what do you play? Lemme guess…” He looked over the massive kid in front of him. Christ, he was a big fucker. “Linebacker?”
A broad smile broke over the guy’s face. “Da, I like to hit. Der is no hockey here, so dis is next best thing.”
Wolverine liked this guy, even if he looked so clean cut he probably spit-shined his sneakers. “Ovechkin is my man,” he said casually, sussing this guy out. Sure enough, Piotr's face split into another grin as he started babbling about how he and Ovie were from the same city in Russia.
Wolverine saw where Colossus got his name; when the overgrown kid armored up for their drill he grew another 6 inches, easily, and looked to gain about 50 plus kilos in mass. Despite his massive size, which could have been intimidating, his genuine demeanor belied the nice guy beneathe the metal. The two boys spent the rest of the class trading focus drills and ragging each other over hockey. Canadian versus Russian. Wolverine could tell this conversation would continue over the course of hockey season.
When Warren blew the whistle they broke apart and Colossus slapped a hearty and huge metal hand on Wolverine’s shoulder in a comradely fashion. The force of the blow knocked the boy to his knees, but Piotr laughingly picked him up with an apology. “Sorry, I not know my own strength sometimes, da?”
“Da,” Wolverine grinned and when Piotr shifted back to his human form Wolverine landed a stinging slap on the other guys shoulder, making him wince. It probably would’ve had more impact if he hadn’t had to almost get on his tip-toes to do it, but whatever. Metal man was alright in his books.
Wolverine planned to head to his room to clean up. Never again would he shower in a communal locker room. Despite being proud, bordering on cocky, of his physical fitness and muscles, Wolverine never got over the humiliation of a few years ago when he’d been hounded mercilessly about his extremely hairy chest and legs after a forced gym class at the quasi-military academy he’d been court-ordered to at 13. That was why he’d refused Angel’s request to put on shorts for class and instead had boxed in jeans, t-shirt, and bare feet.
Wasn’t his fault his mutation carried with it a walloping dose of testosterone most NFL players would kill for. And he definitely he didn’t appreciate being called a hairy animal and beaten with bars of soap wrapped in towels by the upperclassmen when they’d cornered him in the shower room.
They were just pissed they barely had hair on their nuts, he knew that, but the memory still stung. Stupid fucks. He hadn’t made it any easier with the growling and shit. Thank god, he’d been pulled out of there shortly thereafter when the headmaster learned Wolverine was a mutant instead of one of the run-of-the-mill troublemakers that usually populated his little school.
Reflecting on the differences, Wolverine had to admit Xavier’s was starting to grow on him, but he’d be damned if he let anyone know that. It had only been a couple of day. Plenty of time for the weather to change.
He reached to open the gym door when it crashed open and nearly smacked him in the face. He caught it before he needed to reset his nose for the second time in a day, then bit back the snarl that had been about to burst from his lips.
“Shit, sorry I’m late Warren. I…uh…got hung up!” the Rogue panted, clearly having run here from wherever she’d been.
Up to no good, Wolverine’s sniffer told him. She smelled like weed and another guy. She was looking good, no check that, fucking righteous in that black and green skinsuit. Nice ass, verrrrrrrry nice. Wolverine craned his neck for a better look. Yup, that kind of ass he’d happily get expelled for.
“Sorry, Rogue, class is over.” Warren shook his head firmly at the girl even as an indulgent look settled over his face.
“C’moooooonnnnnn,” she whined. “It wasn’t my fault, Victor’s bike broke down and I had to walk. I’ll be early next time, swear to god!”
“Sorry, all the guys have gone.” Angel shook his head again.
“He’s here,” Rogue said and jerked her gloved hand over her shoulder at Wolverine. “C’mon, just 3 rounds. I need the practice. Pleeeeeeeease?” She batted her kohl-lined eyes at the winged man, who folded like a cheap hooker when punched in the gut by a fat guy with sores on his face.
“Alright. Wolverine, you up for sparring with Rogue?” At the delighted look on the boy’s face he added sternly, “Keep those claws in and full protective gear for both of you.”
Wolverine nodded briskly. Shit, he’d dip himself in adamantium if that was what it took to go a couple of rounds with Rogue. They suited up, mouthpieces, headgear, practice gloves. Wolverine didn’t even bother too pick up the groin protector, never needed it, and he wasn’t going to keep his junk away from Rogue in any fashion if he could help it.
He shadowboxed in the ring while Rogue warmed-up, enjoying the view of those tight legs covered in stretchy spandex as she bent, twisted, and lunged. He’d loosen her up good and proper, given the chance. But for now, just the foreplay, a little slap and tickle, show her what a macho fucker he was. He wouldn’t hurt her pretty little ass or that succulent face, especially not those dark lips that looked to be made for wrapping around his dick. He’d just man up and show her who the alpha was around here. Whoever Victor was, that dude would be a distant memory soon enough.
Finally she climbed into the ring, smacked his gloves with hers, grinned at him around her mouthpiece and went to her corner, bouncing easily on the balls of her feet.
Warren called out, “Ding ding!” and tried to smother a grin at the Wolverine. The new kid seriously had no idea what he’d signed up for.
Chapter End Notes:
next chapter up tomorrow! sorry I haven't gotten back to "Don't let me catch you" but this story seized me in a death grip.