Wolverine sat in his room, flipping idly through a magazine and waiting for his dinner to show up. He just hoped Warren had taken him seriously when he told him to make sure he got two trays. Growing guy’s gotta eat, right? But he doubted Angel was in an accommodating mood after watching two students knock each others’ blocks off and a near riot start among the spectators when they couldn’t figure out how to settle the bets.
Well, at least Berzerker had cleaned up, being the only person to put money on a draw. His pockets were bulging with money and IOUs, and Cyke was stuck pulling his laundry duty for a week. Zerker now had extra time to sneak off to town to see his normal girl. That guy owned Wolverine a drink, for sure.
He laughed to himself as he remembered Angel flipping the fuck out. He knew the guy wasn’t really as mad as he acted, more relieved he wasn’t going to have to explain a trip to the ER to Xavier. But he’d had to act somewhat in charge of the situation after it had unraveled on his watch.
Whatever. It’s wasn’t like either Wolverine or Rogue had been seriously hurt, well at least not for more than 30 seconds.
Wolverine had come to first, naturally, his concussion dissipating in the wake of his mutation. Hell, he’d had more of those than he could remember, no biggie. Avalanche crouched over him, laughing his ass off, as the boy sat up and grunted at his friend to remove his gloves. Wolverine then scooted over to where Rogue was lying still out cold and swiped one finger down her neck.
Warren hovered over the unconscious girl in anxiety and sighed in relief when her eyelids fluttered. After a few seconds she opened them and saw Angel standing over her, his wings blocking out the gym lights and leaving a glow around him. “Did I die? Is this heaven?” Warren’s face fell as his mind started cataloging all the various brain injuries or cranial fracture she might have. Rogue lolled her head to one side and caught Wolverine kneeling next to her, a crooked smirk on his face. “Ok, it’s hell.”
They both burst out laughing, which riled Angel up to fever pitch. He shouted at them that his was not Fight Club and there was no way he was going to let them spar together ever, everrrrrrrr again. He claimed they were lucky he didn’t report them to Xavier.
Whatever, they rolled their eyes at each other, still chuckling as he flipped his shit some more and chased the squabbling spectators out of the gym. Then Angel ordered them on lock-down for the rest of the night and sent them to their rooms, like he was their mom or something. Meals would be brought up later.
While the fight had been hella fun, the walk back to his room was pretty great too, Wolverine thought. Rogue was still laughing herself silly, giggling infectiously. And she didn’t have one of those stupid, annoying girl giggles like “oh I’m so cute.” She had a real fine laugh, kinda throaty and sexy. He could definitely get used to hearing that. As they walked along to the fifth floor, where the “unsocialized” students, as Xavier put it, lived he wondered why she was up there. She seemed pretty damn social to him, or as least what passed for social in Wolverine’s head.
“Hey, why don’t I see you in school?” he asked, just now realizing she didn’t catch the shuttle with them in the mornings or afternoons.
“Didn’t you hear?” Rogue struck a mock fearsome pose, fingers curled in claws. “I’m verrrrrry dangerous!” she teased. "Not safe to share a room with me either, hence the Isolation Ward." She gestured to the stairs leading to the top floor.
“Yeh, yeh, very scary,” Wolverine scoffed. He wasn’t afraid of her at all, shit if anything she should be scared of him but she wasn’t, which was a first for sure. And he'd bunk with her anytime. “Seriously, why ain’t you in school?” he pressed.
It took him a moment to realize she’d stopped in her tracks and he had to turn around to look at her. “You don’t know?”
Wolverine looked at her, confused. “Know what?”
Rogue stepped closer to him and tugged off one of her short gloves with her teeth. Whoa, he’d have to try that sometime, hot. She held her hand close to his face, fingers about an inch from his cheek. “This thing I can do with my skin? I can’t turn it off. I suck out people’s life force.” He looked at her hand for a second, utterly unfazed by its proximity. Rogue eyed him speculatively; most people recoiled from her when they found out she could kill them with a touch.
Wolverine shrugged, “Well, that kinda sucks.”
Rogue chuckled; that was a complete understatement. “Totally.” Rogue slid her glove back on and Wolverine’s eye followed it thinking he’d like to hold her hand, but that was some pussy shit that he just didn’t do.
“So, what happens when you touch someone for like…I dunno longer than you did in the ring?” He was curious, but not afraid of her power. Although the day they met and she grabbed his neck had been a bitch to experience, it wasn't anything he didn't think he could handle. Hell, his mind had already come up with 6 different ways to work around it which included baby oil, scarves, and a trip to Adam and Eve’s.
It was Rogue’s turn to shrug as she pushed her sweaty black and silver hair away from her face. Wolverine leaned in and got a nice sniff of her natural scent, tinged with adrenalin from the fight. Yum. “If I touch a normal I can hurt them real bad, real fast. With mutants it takes a bit longer and then I take their mutation for a little while. The last normal I touched is still in the hospital.” Wolverine heard something a little like guilt, but a lot more like anger in her voice at that last sentence.
“How long ago was that?”
“Uh, I guess about 2 months.” Rogue’s eyes focused on the floor in front of her feet as they climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.
“That’s hardcore,” he said, impressed. So she could pack a punch in more ways than one, not a problem. “Did you touch them on purpose or by accident?” Sounded like she hadn’t appreciated that last normal’s touch at all, and the thought made his hackles rise.
“Duncan tried to kiss me, the big ape. He plays football with Cyke and was visiting one day. He thought I was lying about not being able to shut it off.” Her face flushed in anger at the memory.
“Fucking normals,” he growled. “Who lies about something like that? Sounds like the piece of shit deserved it,” he growled.
Rogue giggled again, that raspy chuckle that made Wolverine’s insides do funny things. She liked that weird growling thing he did, made him sound like a pissed off animal. Which made sense, what with his name. Duh.
“Yeh, he did.” She winked conspiratorially at him. “But don’t tell Xavier I said that, he thinks I’m all torn up over it. Besides, he had fucking horrible breath.” Ok, this girl was funny as well as tough.
Too soon Wolverine found them at his door. He invited to Rogue to come in and hang out for a while, but she informed it was a strict Institute no-no otherwise lots of little mutie babies sprouting wings, breathing fire, and sticking to the ceiling would be all over the place. “Xavier’s not stupid, unfortunately. Only time the opposite sex can be in your room is on the weekends during set hours. Always daylight. Always door open,” she made a rueful face as she pointed out the surveillance cameras at both ends of the hall that kept a close eye on 5th floor private rooms.
“Lemme guess, Angel and the other prison guards run around trying to keep everyone’s hands out of everyone’s else’s pants,” he offered.
“You’re funny,” Rogue punched him in the shoulder good naturedly. “Something like that, but plenty of us get up to no good regardless.” She had a saucy look in her eye and he gave her what he hoped was one right back, but it kinda felt like he was just staring at her.
Damn, he’d have to practice that in the mirror. Work on The Eyebrow too.
“Oh reeeeeally?” She had his curiosity piqued. “You get up to no good too?”
She wrinkled her nose at him, it was fucking adorable and Wolverine doesn’t even use that word. Fuck, he was turning into a pansy. “Maybe you’ll find out.” Then again.
Oh yeh, he was so money.
“Yeh?” He leaned closer to her, reeeeal close, in your face, get out of my personal space, do I need a restraining order, close. She smelled too damn tempting to resist and he took a sniff of her again, not even bothering to hide it.
“You just smelled me didn’t you?” she teased. “Do I stink?” She lifted a strand of her hair to her face, leaning a little closer to him. She knew what his senses we like, she had a bit of them right now, but she wasn’t really paying attention to anything except the face of the tough boy in front of her.
Wolverine leaned forward and twisted a silver lock around his finger. “Nah,” he tugged on the strand lightly. “You smell really fucking good.” Ok, voice went a little too low that time, quit trying so hard. You know she is feeling you!
“Mmmmmm.” She is soooo feeling you, man! Oh god, that was a nice noise. Makes me wanna--Shit! Calm down, dumbass! Whoops, too late.
Rogue stepped back from him and turned to walk to her room down the hall, that silver lock sliding from his fingers. “Later, Wolverine.” Agh, idiot, don’t let her walk away! Wait, don’t chase her! That’s desperate! Ok, cool, breathe, cool, Mr. Sub-Zero remember? Just go into your room. Just let her go, you’ll see her tomorrow. Yeh, tomorrow.
Wolverine flopped on his bed and slapped the magazine over his face. Craaaaaaap. He knew he could’ve handled that better, maybe gotten a little more from her if he’d just not frozen on the spot when she made that little purr in her throat. What the hell was that? Whatever it was, he was lucky she’d walked away when she did because he’s sprung a major case of public wood and THAT was never cool when you're trying to pretend you're not uber-interested in a girl. Worse than rocking a hard-on in math because at least then it was funny. Don’t let the girl see how awesome you think she is, rule number one.
Someone knocked at his door. Alright, she can’t stay away from the Wolvmeister! Knew it.
“Hey, man,” Lanche said as he pushed Wolverine’s door open with his shoulder, balancing two trays in his hands. “Room service,” he joked.
“Thanks Jeeves, just sling it on the table.” Wolverine muttered, trying to hide his appointment. He growled when Lance dug into one tray. “Hey, I asked for 2 trays! I’m fucking starving!”
“No one told me,” his friend shrugged and continued to shovel food into his mouth in the disgustingly efficient way only teenage boys have mastered. Wolverine supposed he’d live, but he’d better get a huge frigging breakfast or lives would be in jeopardy. The two boys traded insults over dinner, Lanche unsuccessful in making Wolverine feel at all embarrassed he got his bell rung by a girl.
“Dude, have you ever taken a hit from her?” Wolverine grilled him. The lanky kid, rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and he took that as a yes. “She hits like a fucking man, and you know it.”
“Yeh, well Cyke is gonna give you six kinds of shit, you know that right?”
“Whatever, that asshole should just try and see what happens,” he growled and shot out the claws and accidentally knocked his soda all over his desk.
“Watch where you point those things, you dumb shit!” Lanche bitched, blotting soda from his jeans.
Wolverine kicked his chair out from under him and grinned down at his buddy on the floor, “Fuck you, Rockslide.” The floor started to vibrate and the overhead lamp swayed ominously as Lanche narrowed his eyes up at Wolverine.
It wasn’t until there was a tremendous crash that someone went to investigate, only to find the two boys knocking stuff all over the place as they energetically wrestled with each other. McCoy stepped in just in time to keep Wolverine from crashing into, and perhaps through, his own bathroom door as Avalanche tackled him in the midsection.
Typical hyperactive teenager boy behavior, the blue mutant sighed as he pulled the two apart.
Fortunately the only real damage to the room was where Lance had tripped Wolverine and the other boy’s head had left a decent sized crater in the drywall. One of the more common repairs around the Institute, nothing to fuss about. Avalanche would take longer to recover from the world class Indian rug burn he’d gotten on both his arms. Stung like a motherfucker. The desk, chair, and dresser were righted under the watchful eye of Dr. McCoy and Wolverine’s mattress was moved back to the bed from where it had been thrown on the floor when the two boys had practiced body slamming each other.
Avalanche was then escorted out but not before he landed one last hard punch to his buddy’s arm and ran out the door with a laugh as Wolverine shouted “I’ll get you at breakfast, fuckface!”
Wolverine leaned out his window to enjoy a smoke before bed, looking over the grounds, this place wasn’t half bad at all. Good grub, nice room, decent assholes to hang out with. A definite improvement. Maybe he’d give it a go at not fucking up the good deal he seemed to have going here. He half-considered going up on the roof, maybe he’d catch Rogue up there again. But he decided against it, figured he’d pressed his luck enough for today. And he was tired as shit. Lance could lay a hurting on him when he put half a mind to it, especially tripping him up with that floor shaking shit. Drywall was a lot harder than you’d think. He could respect a guy like Avalanche.
Wolverine’d had enough action for one day and he was tired as all get out; taking two poundings in a row took a lot out of a growing boy. He’d worry about Rogue, Cyke and whatnot tomorrow. As he crawled into bed and shoved his pillow over his head he made a mental note to ask Xavier at breakfast if he could have the guys over for basketball. That would be fun.
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