They were sitting around the breakfast table when the subject of the Annual Costume Ball came up. While everyone spoke rather animatedly about the subject, Rogue said nothing. Not even when Storm teased her about the mini-riot she'd caused at the previous dance in her revealing harem-girl outfit -- normally, she would've teased back, perhaps reminded the other woman that the reason she'd worn such a skimpy costume was to celebrate finally gaining control of her powers after long hours of meditation with the Professor. But today... nothing. Not a single word.

Naturally Logan, observant as any hunter, was suspicious of this unusual behavior. As the conversation drew to a close, he noticed that Rogue was glaring at Remy, somewhat pointedly, he thought.

Remy stood and nodded towards Rogue, "So Remy will pick you up at eight on Saturday, chér?"

Rogue's eyes gleamed a vicious green and she snapped out, "I don't think so, *cher*. I'm going with... Logan."

They were going to the dance together? Unless he'd missed a very important talk, this was news to him. He raised an eyebrow at Rogue and she patted his arm, silently encouraging him to go along with her.

"But," Remy sputtered, "we *always* go together!"

Rogue pushed her chair back and raised herself to her full height. "Well, I would've appreciated being asked. *Nobody* takes me for granted."

She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and strode from the room. Good exit, Logan silently applauded, watching as the X-Men stared after her open-mouthed and Remy sank back into his seat with a scowl.

He slipped unseen out of the room while they murmured amongst themselves and went to the roof in search of Rogue.

His instincts were, as usual, on target, and he found her sitting cross-legged, leaning against the wall and twining a strand of hair around her forefinger.

She didn't look surprised when he suddenly sat down next to her, and she grimaced at the expectant look on his face.

"Sorry," she apologized softly and gestured towards the dining hall, "for that."

"Why?"

"Why am I apologizing, or why did I say it?"

"The second one."

"I just- Remy is always so sure of himself, so certain that I'll always be there. He doesn't treat me... like I'm special to him, not any more. I mean, I know things change, and relationships get stale, but I *won't* be taken for granted. Not ever."

He grunted. It made sense, in a weird, Rogue kind of way. She saw things like no-one else did. Still, there were issues to address. "And speaking of being taken for granted..."

Rogue flushed. "Oh God! I'm *so* sorry! I didn't even think that you'd be going with someone, I mean, I didn't expect you to actually go with me, but if your date found out that you were two-timing her - which of course you aren't - she'd be really pissed. Logan, I'm sorry if I fucked things up for you. I didn't even think of that." She paused, but before he could reply she said miserably, "I'm just like him. Taking you for granted, assuming you'll always be there for me when you have your own life to live."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her to him. "I *will* always be here for you. No matter what."

She leaned into his side gratefully, and though he couldn't see them, he could smell the tears she tried to hide.

Gently, he tilted her chin up and looked down at the lovely face staring so woefully up at him. He sighed and smoothed the tears from her cheeks with a gentle hand, knowing he would gladly crawl over blazing coals for her, this girl, his friend.

"Hey," she said, when she could talk again, "so who *are* you taking to the dance?"

He shrugged, almost dislodging her from her comfortable position, then tightened his grip to keep her from moving. "I wasn't planning on going."

"You weren't?" she sounded surprised, tilted her head up to look at him. "Why not?"

"Didn't have a date, why else?"

She grinned, and he found himself smiling back -- for reasons he knew, but didn't want to examine too closely, not in her presence lest he give something away. Then she socked him lightly in the stomach. He hissed, although it hadn't hurt, and she looked pleased.

Then she frowned and shook her right hand, fingers loose. "God, do you eat bricks or something? Your abs are hard as a rock."

"Only once a day, and never for longer than half an hour. Someone might get suspicious 'bout what I'm doing in the garden."

Rogue laughed, and it was a low husky sound he hadn't heard in a while. "And here I thought you went outside to smoke your cigars in peace, without 'Ro hounding you to put them out."

He sighed and shook his head mournfully. "Ain't that the truth. The woman can't stand cigars... in fact, now that I think about it, most women don't like 'em. What makes you so different, darlin'?"

"I guess some of us are just born that way. Different, I mean. Not with, um, cigars in our mouths."

He couldn't help but laugh at that, especially at her tell-tale explanation expression: brow crinkled slightly in thought, eyes thoughtful, lips pouting. And as he stared down at her mouth, an image of how she would look in bed flashed through his mind. Hair spread out over his pillows -- no, on second thought, it'd be falling all loose and tumbly over her shoulders, thick enough that he could run his hands through it and feel how soft it was. His hands itched to do just that. Her eyes would be that soft dreamy green they'd sometimes melt into when she was happy or sleepy, and he'd trace his forefinger over her perfectly arched eyebrows, down her cheekbone to her chin, over her smooth throat to her breasts. His palms could already feel the weight of those full globes. Her mouth... ah, he could spend an eternity just looking at it, but he'd bend over and kiss it, lightly. Just a light, sweet kiss, a brush of lips. The calm before the storm, he thought, imagining pressing his mouth against hers, longer this time, letting it go deeper. Imagined thrusting his tongue into her mouth... imagined what she'd taste like. Hot, sweet, spicy? Perhaps all three... perhaps like nothing he'd ever tasted, because she was Rogue and she was special, and there was no-one else like her. His mouth tingled to touch hers, and while he could ignore all his other impulses -- or at least refrain from acting on them -- this was one he could not.

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers, let his tongue sweep inside her mouth for a brief second before he pulled away.

Her startled gaze told him she didn't know what had just happened, wasn't sure if she'd really felt his tongue or if it was just her imagination. He smiled, faintly, and left it up to her.

She swallowed and said, voice a little huskier than usual, "So... you were telling me you weren't going because you couldn't get a date? Somehow I don't believe that."

Letting his head drop back against the wall, he answered, "Never said I *couldn't* get a date, just that I didn't have one."

"Why not?"

She sounded curious. He decided to give her the truth. He inclined his head so he was once again looking down at her and touched a finger to her nose, briefly. "The only woman I wanted to take was going with someone else."

Her eyes widened, and she shifted a little. He wasn't sure if she was uncomfortable, or trying to get away from him, or both. It didn't really matter, now that he had her where he wanted her, he wasn't letting go.

"But," he continued, "now it seems we're going together after all. Strange turn of events."

"Logan... I won't hold you to that. I mean, I only said it to piss Remy off. You- I'm sure you have better things to do than take a girl you think of as your sister to an enclosed place that's going to be crowded with people."

That stung, a little. He wondered who she was trying to convince with that 'sister' remark. "Hey, if my ears can take me going to the daycare and listening to forty screaming kids all morning, I can sure as hell handle a few of Chuck's friends for a couple of hours."

"Yeah but, you went to the daycare as a favor to *Jean*. This, this you'd just be doing for *me*."

Nothing she'd said previously, nothing he'd ever felt could have prepared him for the rage that swelled at those few, innocent words. That she believed, actually *believed* she meant so little to him, less than *Jean* for Chrissakes! He growled, low in his throat, and she looked startled, then wary. "You-" he stopped, tried to control his anger, because in this state he couldn't speak. Finally he said, "Rogue, I-I care more about you than anyone else. If you weren't here, at the mansion, I'd be long gone. And as for Jean... you know I had a *slight* thing for her in the beginning, but things, they change, and I haven't felt anything romantic, or even sexual, for her in a long time. She's a part of the past, the past I in the most part don't remember, and most of what's happened in the last few years I don't *want* to remember. Y'know, the only parts I don't want to forget, *won't* ever forget, no matter what anyone does to me, are the parts that involve you. So don't tell me, don't *ever* tell me that you aren't important."

"But I-" she tried to say, but he placed a finger on her lips and continued.

"Because if you aren't important, then neither am I; the only good that's in me comes from you. So don't put yourself down -- you're the light to my shadow, my own personal miracle."

He could feel something wet against his finger and he could see tears streaming down her cheeks and for once, that terrible burden of not knowing what had gone before had lifted from his chest, and he felt... free.

"And that's probably sacrilegious, but who really gives a fuck?"

She laughed and gulped out, "Y-you're the only... one... in the world... who can make me laugh... and cry... at the same time."

He hauled her into his lap and whispered into her ear, "Yeah, but don't let it get around. Someone might think I'm in love with you or something."

She stiffened and twisted around in his arms to face him. Then she said, in that serious tone of voice with those quiet eyes that never failed to turn him on, "I know you love me, Logan. I'm like your sis-"

And he shook her. Hard. "No, you are *not* like my sister! I'm not your brother, or your father, or your uncle, or your cousin, or any other fucking relation you can think of. When I say I love you, I mean I *love* you. As in *love* and sex and marriage and children and happily ever after. So yeah, in that sense you *are* my family, but you're also everything else. You're the friend I come to for advice, the woman I fantasize about every night, the only person in this entire godforsaken planet that I'd die for... Darlin', you're my everything, heart, body and soul belong to you. Mind too, but I don't really think that's something you'd want."

Through the tears still pouring like rain down her cheeks, she laughed. And he couldn't resist her, not then with her hair clinging damply to her cheeks, her eyes red and bloodshot, her tears stained pink from the trails her tears had taken. He kissed her, let his tongue finally sink into that beautiful mouth and taste, fully taste, the wonder of her.

He thought it couldn't possibly get any better. Then her tongue tentatively stroked his and he realized just how wrong he was.

All of his dreams, all of his fantasies, hadn't prepared him for this. They hadn't come close to the ecstasy that was her touch and her body and the little sounds she made at the back of her throat. But then, how could a fantasy ever compare to the rapture of reality?

Her hands were on his shoulders and his were at long last buried in her hair, fisted in the silky lushness of it, and all the while her taste, oh God her taste, drove him quietly insane. She was peppermint juleps and clear sweet rain and the tang he vaguely recognized as lemon drops... she was everything he'd ever dreamed she'd be multiplied to infinity.

Then she pulled away to say, "Logan... oh, that feels so good, more, oh yes..." she moaned and panted a little, then, "Logan, I really need to tell you something."

"It's not about Frenchie, is it?" he growled, massaging her breasts through her blouse, making sure to skim over her nipples when she least expected it -he loved watching her mouth open and close slightly as she exhaled, loved seeing her pupils dilate with pleasure and feel her legs tighten around his waist.

"Who? Oh, him, yeah, I guess I'd better break up with him, huh?"

You'd better believe it baby, he thought with a smirk, pressing down on one nipple and grinning outright when she moaned.

"No, I meant... I was going to say... Hang on a sec, I- you're messing with my mind!" she accused. "I can't think when you touch me," she said in a softer tone, then rocked against his erection and smiled when he paused in his ministrations, his vision clouded with the red haze of passion. "And apparently, neither can you. While I have the chance, I want to tell you something. Logan, I love you. It seems like I've loved you forever; I can't imagine a world without you in it, *you* are *my* everything. You're the last thing I think of when I go to sleep at night, and I dream about you, and then I wake up and my first thought is of you. And if a day goes by that I don't see, I feel... not lost, but alone. Without. And I know that I might be able to live without you, but I don't want to. I want to spend my life with you, making you happy, even making you miserable. When I see you, my heart feels so full, so light, like its filled with helium, and if it wasn't in my chest it'd just float away. Of course, it wouldn't go too far."

"Why-why not?" he asked hoarsely, feeling the prick of tears beneath his eyelids.

She smiled sweetly. "Because it belongs to you."

He breathed deeply, trying to calm his rioting emotions. "So," he said, when talking was once again possible, "we're agreed then? Together forever."

"Yes, 'til death us do part."

He shook his head vehemently at that. "No darlin', that's not good enough for me. Until eternity... and beyond."

More tears trickled from the corners of her beautiful green eyes -- that soft, dreamy green he'd fantasized they'd be -- and she twisted a strand of his hair around her finger, and said, teasingly, "And in all this time, you promise you won't ever take me for granted?"

He stood and swung her into his arms, considered the question, then headed for the door, and the bedrooms that lay beyond. "Taking you for granted isn't an option. Taking you... now *that* sounds pretty damn good."