The mansion was, thankfully, even more deserted than Logan expected.
“. . . biggity, high-minded, arrogant, know-it-all, patronizin’ bastard! The Professor, Jean, and I have discussed it at length,” Marie did a fair imitation of Scott’s adenoidal voice as she stomped down the hallway, the dramatic effect hindered by the way her feet never actually hit the tiles—not that she noticed.
Logan fought the impulse to reach behind him and tug her down. At least she was keeping her voice low. Sort of.
“More like he convinced Charles and Jean. Of all the fuckin’ . . . grrrrrrr. I’ll show’em. I will. Just you wait.”
His knuckles instinctively itched at the sound of her growl, but he didn’t bother urging her to calm down again. And he wasn’t going to snarl her into silence. Because that would be uncivilized.
This is gonna be fine, he told himself for the dozenth time. They could interact normally around others. A couple weeks of isolation hadn’t turned them completely feral. In fact, they were hardly feral at all. They were the very definition of tame.
Well, perhaps not. But Logan needed to keep up his I’m-not-a-vicious-animal mask if he were to have any hope of making it through the day without embarrassing himself and upsetting Marie.
So as much as he wanted to let loose and forcibly silence her, he had let her ranting go uninterrupted since they left the garage. She had hardly even noticed that Logan was carrying her suitcase and leading her to her room. He had no desire to bring either of those things to her attention. He was simply going to deposit his duffle in the corner of her room and crawl into bed with her later that night.
Perhaps he should say something about it, ask her permission. But he had no intention of taking "no" for an answer, so it seemed unnecessary. He couldn’t imagine sleeping on the other side of the mansion. He would respect his mate’s space, let her stand on her own and all that, but standing alone and sleeping alone were two very different things—
That thought was interrupted when Marie raised her hands in front of her, wringing the neck of some poor invisible spectre. “Ooooh, I could jus’ cuss’im inta next week! Probation. Didn’t even gimme a chance, Logan. An’ here I thought years of loyal service might earn a girl the damn benefit of the doubt. Silly me. Nevermind the fact that none of this woulda happened in the first place if I hadn’t let Charles convince me to take a vacation! Fuck this shit. I’d like to see a one of’em stop me from boardin’ that jet. Hell, who needs a jet? I’ll fly myself.”
Logan knew she must have been very committed to the team to make Lieutenant, but he’d never realized what a little spitfire she could be. As long as it wasn’t directed at him, it was . . . actually kind of sexy. He let himself fall back a couple of steps so she could walk at his side. Amusing as it was to see her following at his heels, he got sick of having to crane around to look at her.
“Two months. I’ll give it two months. But if I don’t hear the words ‘full reinstatement,’ he’s gonna hear a couple choice words from me. Startin’ with ‘independent consultant.’ I got plenty of contacts. I don’t hafta work under the Xavier Institute. Scott Summers is gonna figure out just what Rogue really means, sugar, I tell you what.”
She spared him a glance, so he offered up a noncommittal grunt. Independent consultant? He didn’t know exactly what she meant by that, but it sounded too much like “mercenary” for his tastes. Still, no point talking her out of it until she calmed down.
“One thing’s for sure though: Pryde ain’t ready for combat. Which I wrote in big, clear letters in her last performance review—but oh well, it ain’t like I’m the combat instructor or anythin’.” She pressed a thoughtful finger to her lips. “Oh, wait, yeah I am. Still, what the fuck do I know, huh?”
Logan chuckled. That was actually pretty funny. That dry, sarcastic sense of humor he’d seen a few glimpses of . . . well, he could definitely get used to it. He’d bet money it came out in full force after a few shots of whiskey.
“I mean, I only taught that kid from the time she was sixteen. Only helped her pick out a prom dress and test drive her first car and fill out her college applications. Not like I deserve any say in whether she’s ready to run off and risk her life on some dangerous mission. Shit. Scott shoulda pulled Warren in from recon, and he knows it. Can’t believe Charles signed off on this. Two weeks, and the whole place has gone to hell. If I’da been here . . . well, if I’da been here there wouldn’t even be an empty seat in that jet that needed fillin’.”
Logan’s mind caught on a single nagging question: Didn’t Shadowcat look older than Marie? Yet Marie had been her teacher. Not to mention a long-standing member of the X-Men. Lieutenant. She had to be way older than the twenty or so that she looked. There was definitely something strange going on in the Marie aging department. Logan tried not to feel excited about that fact. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but maybe . . .
“. . . and I was glad as anybody when she decided to come back here after college. The girl’s a genius. But she ain’t cut out for fieldwork. Took her out to help me work this case once, a mutant lynchin’ down in Alabama. Local PD actually asked the Xavier Institute to consult. D’ya know what a big deal that is, Logan, for them to call us?”
Anti-mutant sentiment was strong in the South. That the local police had put any effort at all into the investigation was a big step for mutant rights. “Pretty big deal,” he agreed.
Marie nodded. “Damn right. Well, Pryde’s got it in her head to become an X-Man, and I figure this is a nice low-risk way to ease her into things. So I bring her out to help process the scene, take photographs, do some digital imaging for’em. And y’know what she does? Guess.”
“Dunno.”
“Guess, Logan.”
He growled softly. “I don’t wanna fuckin’ guess. Tell me.”
Marie continued unfazed. “She faints. Barely steps outta the detective’s truck, takes one look at the scene, and faints. Told me later it was the maggots that did it. Now really, who’s a bigger liability on a mission? Me, an experienced X-Man who happens to be workin’ through some . . . minor . . . mental issues . . . or some green little kid who faints at the sight of a dead body? Answer me that. Be honest, Logan.”
Logan wasn’t about to tell Marie that he really didn’t mind her being kept out of dangerous missions, especially when he wasn’t so sure that her mental issues were as ‘minor’ as she let on. Surprisingly, his feral side was more upset by the prospect. Wolverine viewed hunting with his mate as quality bonding time, and didn’t like the thought of leaving her behind unattended. He’d have to tread carefully here. “Oh, to be honest . . . I’d rather see you in the uniform than that Kitty girl, any day of the week.”
There. That was a truthful, if slightly misleading answer. He was pretty proud of himself for that one, actually. But Marie was already off on another tangent.
“ . . . knew I shouldn’ta let those girly pushups slide. If she fucks up, it’s partly on me.” The anger in her tone faded to worry. “An’ I can’t even be there to protect her. You better keep an eye on her, hear me? She’s still a kid, for God’s sake. Goin’ out to them clubs with Lee an’ the other girls, wearin’ more skin than clothes, and stumblin’ home all hours of the night fucked up as a football bat.” Marie slowed as they approached her door, scenting the air. The worry in her voice grew. “Hey, smell that?”
“Kinda hard not to.” He had been wondering when she would stop and take a breath long enough to notice. The sweet, floral bouquet was overpowering and only growing stronger, an amalgam of scents that were not unpleasant by themselves, but clashed horribly with each other.
“It’s . . . it’s comin’ from my room.” She gestured to the door at the end of the hall.
“Yep.”
Marie backpedaled a couple of steps, and Logan placed a steadying hand on her back. She sneezed several times. “Oh. That’s strong.” She tried to step back again, but he held her in place. “Logan . . .”
He felt his own nose itching, but he’d been managing his heightened senses much longer than she had. “Sensory adaptation. Just give it a minute. You’ll adjust.”
She sneezed again. “It don’t feel like my room anymore.” She turned into him, pushed aside his jacket, and rubbed her cheek against the front of his shirt. “It don’t smell right, ya know?” She mumbled into the red flannel, “Everythin’s so messed up. Part of me wishes we’d stayed at the cabin, Alpha. Oh, I mean—I mean Logan. Oh my God.” She hid in his chest and whimpered, embarrassment practically radiating off her.
“Alpha?” Logan felt all the blood in his body go straight to his groin. He caught a finger in her belt loop and mindlessly tugged her hips into his. “Grrrrghhh . . .”
“Oh!” Marie stiffened in surprise. “Sorry. I—I just always call you that for some reason. In my head. Um, you l-like it?”
Obviously. “Feel that?” He punctuated his question by purposefully pushing his hips into her.
She squeaked. “Logan! We’re in the middle of the . . .” But he was already ahead of her, digging her key out of her pocket and walking them towards her door.
Despite his best effort, he didn’t quite make it that far before he pulled back just enough to see Marie’s wide-eyed expression, leaned down, and licked her lips.
The swipe of his tongue was brief, much too brief. He felt a tingle, like a connection opening up between them, but no pain, as he quickly pulled away. “Oh God. You taste so fucking good.” His voice was hardly his own. He had to do that again. Had to. Logan dropped her suitcase and shrugged off his duffle, letting them thud to the floor without a second thought. His eyes and hands wasted no time wandering down her body. Relishing the way her scent changed, he leaned in to meet her lips again, but she resisted. “Marie,” he growled before he could help himself.
“Lo-ogan,” her voice broke. “What are you--? We can’t. E-especially not out here—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled more roughly than he meant to, shoving the key into the lock and her into the room with equal haste. He kicked the door shut behind them, leaving their bags in the hallway.
Don’t scare her, you idiot! he thought, noticing another change in her scent, this one far less pleasant. But he couldn’t quite think straight. He wanted her too badly, and in his mind there were no more barriers standing in their way.
Logan wove his hands into Marie’s hair and tilted her head up, an unspoken invitation to meet his eyes. It took a few painfully long moments, but finally she let her gaze drift up to his, slowly, carefully. He could hear her heart pounding, catching up with his as they ignored their instincts and gazed directly into each other.
Marie traced her own fingers over her mouth, following the path his tongue had made.
“Let me do that,” he said in what he hoped was a gentle, undemanding way. He had a feeling it came out more like a crude command.
But she nodded dazedly, eyes never leaving his.
Logan's breathing grew harsher. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing each of her fingertips in turn. Then he dove in and took another fleeting taste of her lips, eliciting a gasp. His voice came out on a deep note, and he fought to keep his other hand from tightening in her hair. “How long can we touch before the pull starts?”
She rolled her shoulder in a little shrug and looked down.
“You don’t know?”
At that, she seemed to snap out of her daze. She blushed and tried to pull away.
“Still not a big talker, huh?” He’d fix that. He definitely needed to hear her call him “Alpha” again. He got harder just thinking about it.
Marie looked down, but her voice came out defiant. “I’m sorry. We can’t . . . I don’t touch people unless I want to steal their powers or knock’em out, okay? It ain’t worth the risk.”
“Oh, it’s worth the fuckin’ risk.” Before he could talk himself out of it, Logan braced himself and crashed his mouth over hers possessively. Her half-hearted whimpers of protest went ignored; she could stop him if she really wanted to. His tongue parted her lips easily, and he tilted her head back, nearly losing his mind in pleasure as she opened under him. So soft, hot, wet. No one’s ever kissed her like this. Mine, mine, mine, he thought greedily, ravaging her mouth until the pain finally overrode the pleasure and he reluctantly pulled away, gasping for air.
“Oh my God! Logan!” She hooked her arms around him, supporting part of his weight. “Ya big idiot! Course I ain’t ever been kissed like that—no one’s been stupid enough to try.”
So. She heard that. He wondered if she got any other thoughts from him. There were some pretty vivid ones running through his mind at the moment. “Worth it,” he wheezed, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
Her eyes began to tear up. “Logan, this ain’t fair. Ya deserve to be with somebody who—“
“Stop it. I want you. What do ya need to believe it, a signed affidavit?” Because at this point, he’d give her one if only she’d let him have her. All of her. “Oh, God, baby, I can’t help—” he crushed her against him and licked at her lips again, a show of lust that would have been embarrassingly feral if she hadn’t whimpered and tentatively licked him back.
He could see the warring emotions on her face as she got control of herself and pulled away . . . and then he noticed it. The room spread out behind her. The mahogany furnishings and crisp white bedding were just as he remembered, but now her bedroom was filled with “Get Well Soon” balloons, cards, and well over a dozen flower arrangements. Hence the overpowering smell.
At the foot of the bed lay a pair of focus mitts and a pair of hand wraps, each deep green and embroidered with the name Rogue. A large poster board had been propped next to the gifts with the words “Welcome Home, Ms. D’Ancanto” and the signatures of her students scrawled all over it in various shades of magic marker.
The sight of it all was enough to make Logan pause in his urgency. He needed a moment to recover from that kiss, anyway. “Marie.” Fighting a smile, he gripped her shoulders and urged her to turn around. “Baby, look.”
Turning reluctantly at his command, she took in the room. Her eyes began to water again, though Logan suspected it wasn’t out of sadness this time. Her gaze settled at last on the poster board, and she brought a hand to her mouth, muffling a sob.
Logan stepped into her from behind, managing to more-or-less gently wrap his arms around her waist and drop his chin over her head. His breathing was still a bit ragged, his voice thready. “Guess everyone’s as crazy ‘bout ya as I am. No surprise there.”
“Oh, Logan. This is—I can’t believe—“
“Hate to say it, but Summers was right about one thing: they do need ya here. Look at all this. Those kids must worship you.”
She laughed thickly, swiping at her eyes. “Yeah, right. They can’t stand me half the time. No one else makes’em do pushups and run laps at seven in the mornin’.”
Logan tickled his fingers over her ribs, feeling playful. And if he happened to brush the underside of her breast, it was completely innocent, and he certainly didn’t growl in satisfaction when she melted in his arms. “Seven? If it were me, I’d have’em up at five.”
“Ya tellin’ me how to do my job, sugar?” She turned in his arms, rubbing against him. “’Cause I don’t much ‘preciate—”
Logan groaned at her movements. “Aw, Marie. I know this ain’t the time, but I need—” His mouth found hers once more, and he was unable to decide whether the fleeting contact was erotic or frustrating. Judging by the growing strain in his jeans, he was leaning towards erotic. “Just let me,” he muttered incoherently between kisses, “let me, darlin’, please.”
She whimpered and gripped the front of his shirt, her scent flooding the air as her body caught on to what he wanted and readied itself for him.
Oh, he loved that. He buried himself in her hair and breathed her in deeply, drowning out everything else. What the fuck are you doin’? How’s this gonna work? a voice in the back of his mind shouted.
But it may as well have been the barest whisper for all he heard, as he tightened his arms around her and crushed her against him, then walked her backwards towards the bed. A trail of kisses up her jawline left his lips buzzing from the pull of her skin. He didn’t know how to continue, only knew that he couldn’t stop. So he kissed her again, groaning into her mouth and pulling away just before the buzz turned to pain. He was getting better at judging it.
Marie somehow had the presence of mind to sweep aside the poster and the gifts, barely managing to get them out of the way before Logan tossed her onto the mattress and got her pinned, forcing harsh breaths through gritted teeth as his body moved over hers.
“Fuck!” Logan gasped when her legs wrapped around him, and he could feel the heat between her thighs even through their clothes. He ground against her, eyes rolling back as a growl tore out of his throat. Who knew friction could feel that damn good?
Maybe they could just . . . the thought seemed juvenile, but . . . he ground into her again, watching her response this time. Judging by the whimper and the way she tightened her legs around him, she was enjoying herself too. This could be good. Even if he couldn’t be inside her, even if they kept their clothes on, this could—he ground into her again, and his mind went blank with pleasure.
Logan’s resistance was all but gone as he braced his weight on his forearms and stared down at Marie, sparing a moment to drink in the sweet pink flush of her cheeks, her glossy hair splayed out over the soft white bedding, her trusting gaze connecting with his. He had a feeling this image would be burned into his mind forever.
“So right,” he whispered. “You’re so right for me.” And he kissed her again, lingering for a few sweet, agonizing moments even after the painful pull began.
Logan was well past the point of no return. He didn’t even know where he ended and Wolverine began. Still, some part of his mind managed to scrape together his habitual plea. His hips had set up a rhythm entirely out of his conscious control. “Grrrrrghh . . . tell me not to stop.”
Marie whimpered, shoving his jacket down his shoulders and helping him get it off. Her hands roamed through his hair, down his back, over his arms. Logan touched her more and more boldly, and everything about her was responsive, receptive to his advances—her scent, her pliant body, the soft, sweet sounds she made.
And damn it, it wasn’t enough. He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Words, baby. Lemme hear you beg.”
She arched into him. “Please . . .”
Logan rose up to look at her.
The flush on her cheeks darkened, but she went on in a hushed voice, “Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he promised, hooking a hand behind her knee. She caught on quickly, locking her legs higher around him, pulling him even closer. Logan summoned every ounce of restraint he had to keep his movements gentle. He had a feeling he failed, but she certainly didn’t complain as he ground into her through their clothes. Logan buried his face safely in her hair, still dizzy from that last kiss. He didn’t trust himself not to do anything stupid.
It wasn’t long before every movement drew a growl from him and a gasp or a little whimper from her. The sounds urged him on, and Logan wasn’t entirely sure what sorts of things he was growling in Marie’s ear, but whatever he was saying, it was driving her closer to the edge, and him right along with her.
Logan wanted a million different things. Wanted to bite into her skin until she yelped, to bring out that side of her, feral and uninhibited. He wanted to push his way inside her, feel her muscles clench around him. He really wanted to let go and let his instincts take over, just to see what would happen. He’d never been with another feral, never felt these urges so strongly before. But he forced them aside; he just kept moving, drowning in the sensation. Then he cried out, every muscle in his body seizing as he came against her and grew hard again. And still he kept moving, nowhere near sated yet.
He had no idea how much time passed with her wordless whimpers slowly growing in pitch and volume, but finally, the desire to look at her became great enough that he rose up a few inches—and to his shock, the change in angle made her come apart in his arms. Logan watched in awe as Marie arched into him, tossing her head back with a soft cry. There was nothing wild or urgent about her release, just the slow, easy building of pleasure. This was all so different from anything he’d experienced before. He kissed his way over her eyelids, across her cheekbones, and down to her red, swollen lips before pulling away to watch her again.
This is right, Logan thought absently, transfixed by the pale column of her neck, and finding it hard to believe that anything this good could be happening to him. But then her legs tightened around him and she shuddered more forcefully, and all thought ceased. He closed his mouth over hers, bucked his hips, and let himself go.
“Al—Logan,” Marie whimpered and squirmed when he pinned her arms over her head and started to move yet again. “Too much. Too much.”
He rubbed a soothing hand over the outside of her thigh, realizing her legs were no longer locked around him. “Okay, baby.” By force of will, he lifted his hips away from hers, fighting the urge to growl her into submission. That the urge even existed made him feel slightly sick, and he rose off her completely.
Marie glanced between them and blushed bright red. “Oh. D-didn’t you—?”
Logan couldn't help a laugh at the look on her face. “Oh yeah. Oh, God, yeah.”
She cleared her throat, ducking her head and looking like she wanted to sink through the bed. “But you’re still—”
Logan couldn’t help a frustrated growl. “Healing factor. It’s never quite . . . I never feel–” satisfied “—finished.”
“Oh.” Marie bit her lip. “Oh, well, if you wanted to—again—”
Shit, now he had made her feel bad. “No, no,” he rolled to his side and pulled her into him, nuzzling her hair. “No, that was perfect, darlin’. Perfect.”
She tried to shift out of his arms, but a soft growl in her ear stilled her instantly. “Good girl,” Logan teased, more to distract her than anything.
She smacked his shoulder. “That ain’t funny.”
He snickered, holding her against him, glad to hear the change in her tone. “Yeah, yeah it is. And sexy. Feels so good to me, Marie, when you submit like that.” Oops. That was more than he really meant to admit.
Her voice came out quiet, even to his sensitive ears. “I know. And um, before I forget . . . I’d appreciate it if ya kept that name to yourself. Everyone else just knows me as Ms. D’Ancanto or Rogue. I just—I’m a very private person, and—”
Logan’s jeans grew impossibly tighter. “No one else . . . knows your name?”
She shook her head.
He calmed forcibly, loosening his hold on her. “Yes,” he spoke as softly as she had. “Marie. That’s just for me. My Marie. Jesus, you make me so hot.” He found himself licking at her ear before he really knew what he was doing.
“Ah! Doesn’t that hurt?” she whispered.
“Mmm, not enough to make me stop.” He finished kissing his way over the shell of her ear and down her neck before pulling back, lips still tingling from the pull of her mutation. It wasn’t nearly as strong as he had feared, but he did feel very dizzy. He didn’t think any kind of prolonged contact would be possible without hurting him, and potentially her as well. But it felt so good, even through the pain.
He’d just have to savor the little things. Brief kisses. A brush of his fingertips. He could do that. She was more than worth it. And maybe, someday, things would be different . . .
No. He should be thankful for what he had, not wish for more. Logan knew it was irrational, but it still bothered him a little bit that Marie’s body didn’t accept his touch. That her mutation hurt him. She was his, didn’t she know that? And she had to let him have her, all of her. His animal side still seemed to think that Marie was somehow being disobedient. That she simply needed to be taught a lesson, and then she would obey his wishes, let him touch where and how he wanted.
He shook the thought. No way was he going to confirm everything she had feared about being with him, to push for more than she could give. She couldn’t control her skin. He needed to accept that. More than a dumb animal. More than a dumb animal. More than . . .
Wolverine, Rogue, welcome home. Please see me at your earliest convenience. I will be in my office until four.
“Fuck!” Marie jumped as though scalded, hovering several inches off the bed until Logan wrapped his arms around her and tugged her down. She didn’t seem to have the flying thing quite under control yet.
He didn’t really know whether to laugh or cry. The telepathic communiqué had been enough to turn his once pliant mate completely unresponsive. Stiff in his arms, she was once again blushing from hairline to neckline—and probably beyond. Logan tried his best to hide his disappointment as he eased back and adjusted himself in his jeans. It wasn’t all bad, though. He knew she wanted to be discreet for now, but the thought of others knowing she belonged to him pleased him more than he would admit. “You uh, y’think he knew what he was interrupting?”
“Fuck!” she repeated, a hint of a laugh creeping into her voice this time. “I dunno, sugar. I don’t even like to think about what the telepaths around here do or don’t know ‘bout me.” Her expression sobered. “Although Charles left me in a secluded cabin with you, so I guess he don’t really care. Uh, I mean, he don’t care if we . . . y’know.”
Logan didn’t like the tone of her voice. “Hey, he cares about you. A lot. I told him to let you stay in the cabin ‘cause you felt safe there.” Before he could lose his nerve, he added, “And . . . and it was my idea to stay with you. I wanted to be the one to take care of you.”
Her jaw dropped. “Y-you did? Really?” She looked like she had just been told that, yes, Santa Claus was in fact real.
Logan couldn’t help himself. He pulled her into his arms again. “Of course. Told ya it’s about more than just touchin’ to me. But . . . the touchin’ is nice. Really nice.”
“Logan,” she gently extricated herself from his embrace. “I—I was all messed up. I know that. Maybe still am a little. But I don’t need to be taken care of anymore. I’m a grown woman. The way things were at the cabin, that’s not—”
He cut her off with a finger to her lips before she could finish that thought. Her fears would be easy to allay. All he had to do was tell her the truth. “I wanted you before, too. Before . . . the attack. I was just takin’ my time decidin’ how to approach. I didn’t realize how strong—” his voice turned gruff despite his best efforts, “—how strong I felt about ya, ‘til I saw ya lyin’ there in that clearing, and all I could think was how I was gonna lose ya, gonna miss my chance with ya.”
Marie brought a hand to her forehead. “You were there,” she said vaguely. “You were the one who found me?” She groaned and shook her head. “I can’t think about it. But—but I want ya to know, I was, um, attracted to you too. Or, me an’ Rogue were. Before ‘we’ became ‘I’. But we thought nothin’ would ever come of it, what with us bein’ the way we were. Er, are.” She let out a small laugh. “I’m confusin’ myself.”
Logan figured a little teasing would take her mind off things. It worked before, anyway. “The way you are? Ya mean beautiful? ‘Cause I’m failin’ to see how that would lessen your chances with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop it. Y’know what I’m talkin’ about. My mutation. I’m still not sure how this is gonna work, Logan.”
“It worked pretty damn good just now. And the rest . . . we’ll figure it out together.” It really was that simple. Yes, he was scared things might not work out, but the animal in him felt secure in its claim on her, especially after what they just did together. He didn’t think he could lose her entirely. She was bound to him, one way or another. Now, if he could just convince her to relax and enjoy being with him, he would be one very happy man. Animal. Mutant. Whatever.
Marie appeared deep in thought. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Okay. I’m lotsa things, but a coward ain’t one of’em. If ya really want this, sugar . . . I’m willin’ to try.”
“Me too. That’s all we can do.” Logan fought the urge to smile like a fool. “Now, uh, I prob’ly better bring our bags in from the hall. Definitely need to change before we go see Chuck.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Oh my gosh. Not a single scene or POV change. What is wrong with me? Hopefully it turned out okay. Smut cures even the most mediocre writing, yeah? Regardless, I'm sick of sitting on this chapter, and I'm sure you all are ready for an update. I'm still not happy with this, but *gulp* here goes nothin'! Honest feedback is welcome. Bleh =P.
Chapter End Notes:
So yeah, I have played around some with timelines and relative ages. But in my defense, in the 90's cartoon, Jubilee was a kid and Rogue was a senior X-Man . . .