Scott was munching on some popcorn in the doorway between the kitchen and the den. And who did he see but the one of them who belonged /most/ in a den. Wolverine. He was sitting in an armchair and watching hockey. /What a Canuck/, Scott thought. Wolverine didn't notice the look on Scott's face because he was so into the game; his adamantium-laced fingers gripping a beer can, a cigar dangling from his lips. Across the room, Rogue was silently mending one of her scarves while sitting on the sofa next to Jubilee and Kitty who were both talking her ears off. She wasn't getting much work done because of all the chatter, and the fact that every other second she lifted her gaze to where Wolverine sat. And she /wasn't/watching the game.
Scott was bored, and everything around him was laced with electricity so he thought that he should do a little matchmaking. The mansion had been quiet for several days now, and Scott was actually itching for some excitement. He felt rather useless with the calm in the Senate and Magneto and his brotherhood on the run. So, all things considered, Scott generally needed something to do. The situation between Logan and Rogue was getting kind of pathetic. All this I-love-you-but-I-can-never-be-with-you crap was giving him hives. Jean was obsessed, and it didn't help that every night before joining him in bed, Jean related all of the romantic or unromantic goings-on of everyone's favorite un-couple. Secretly, he thought that if he did something big to get the pair together, then Jean would… he didn't know, like him more, or something. It was an innocent assumption, and besides, in Scott's heart of hearts he wanted Wolverine and Rogue to get together anyway.
And so began the plan.
Wolverine was sitting in the kitchen, eating waffles with syrup, and reading the Times. Scott had the urge to comment on his gimpy food and the reading choice that he would actually approve of, but then swallowed it remembering who had the claws. "How's it going, Logan?" Scott tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, when he knew that any conversing with Logan was anything but nonchalant.
Logan gave him a strange look. "What's it to you, one eye?" He sounded annoyed, but not ticked off… yet.
Scott bit his tongue. "Just wondering. Hey, if you hear that I'm taking Jean to Fiarelli's on Friday, be sure not to tell her, okay? I want it to be a surprise." /Nice segue, Scott,/ he thought.
"Whatever," said Wolverine, and stabbed a waffle with his adamantium claws. /Mental note: Waffles are no longer gimpy./
"And you better not come. I don't want you ruining our night out, okay?" /Gee, that wasn't too obvious…/
Logan grunted.
But the plan did not end there. Scott had already told Jean of their "plans" but to make his scheme work, she had the idea to involve the other students. Enter Jubilee: yellow-clothed artist of manipulation.
"Rogue, just so you know, you have a blind date on Friday." Jubilee ducked behind their bunk bed in anticipation of the flying pillow that, sure enough, barely grazed her shoulder.
"WHAT?" Rogue screeched, traces of her Southern accent still apparent. "I have a WHAT on Friday??? I thought I told you after last time! I don't DO blind dates! You have to tell him no."
"I don't think so, Rogue." Jubilee peeked out slowly from behind the bed to see if it was safe. "I think you will really like this guy. And technically, you already know him." Seeing the look on Rogue's face, Jubilee quickly covered herself, "Don't look at /me/. I'm not about to ruin the surprise."
Slowly, yet visibly, Rogue seemed to be warming up to the idea. "Tell me more about this date that you say I'm going on…" Rogue tried to appear disinterested but scooted on the bed towards Jubilee.
"Well, he's going to meet you at Fiarelli's on Friday, like I said. Oh, and he'll be wearing blue…"
What Rogue didn't know was that deep in one of Jubilee's "evil boyfriend go to hell" boxes, at that very moment, was every shirt that Logan owned: except for the blue ones. And what Jubilee didn't know was that Rogue was hiding her heaviest pillow behind her back…
Wednesday came and Thursday went. Our two heroes prepared for their adventures in different ways. Rogue tried on every outfit she owned, while trying to cover as much skin as possible. This meant that borrowing from Jubilee's wardrobe was out of the question. Wolverine picked out a blue shirt. (/That's odd,/ he thought, /I could have sworn that I had more shirts than this…/), and got ready to wreck havoc on Jean and Scott's romantic dinner.
Wolverine barged into Fiarelli's with a wry smile on his face, and a cigar in his mouth. "I'm meeting someone," he muttered to get the waitress off his back. He prowled the restaurant, not worrying that he would be seen-Scott had practically invited him. /And you better not come,/ what kind of crap was that? Almost finished with his rounds of the restaurant, he came across a corner table. He had to blink several times before he could be sure. Yes. It was Rogue. Her apparent loneliness was soaking in the air around her, and he could smell her. That earthly lavender shampoo and the fresh laundered scent of her clothes. He was stepping forward before he even realized that he was moving.
/It's the least I can do…/
Rogue looked up just in time to see Wolverine approaching her table. What was /he/ doing here? Oh. God. He's wearing blue. Rogue didn't know whether to be excited or to run in terror. Was she ready for this?
"You meeting anyone?" his booming voice crashed over her.
Her heart thudded: once, twice… "Um. I'm not really sure. It's kind of complicated."
"Well, do you mind if I sit with you, at least until your friend arrives?" He looked so kind and compassionate at that moment, Rogue forgot all about her 'blind date' and smiled warmly.
"I don't mind at all," she said and naturally placed her gloved hand on Wolvie's as he sat. The shock of electricity that they both felt was unmistakable. And although there was no exchange of life or powers, they both drew back their hands and resumed their initial awkwardness.
"So, uh, how do you like being an X-man so far?" Wolverine eyed his plate. Fettuccini Alfredo. He didn't know how to eat this. Completely bewildered, he loosed his metal claws from their sheath and twirled some of the saucy pasta on them.
"It's fine. I like not being the only weird one." Rogue took a dainty bite of ravioli and restrained a smile as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"You could never be weird, Marie." Wolverine swallowed hard. He knew that she didn't like being called by her real name in public. "Sorry."
"It's fine. I don't mind when you say it," she almost-whispered. Louder, "But how are /you/ liking being an X-man? We've been at it almost the same amount of time, remember?"
/Oh, I remember. I remember./ "It's better than bar fights, I guess. But I don't get as many tips." He chuckled low and deep. Marie's higher laughter rang over his. It was a rough attempt at a joke, but they both appreciated the ease of stress around them. Besides, the joke was just so bad that it was funny. "Probably a better use of my powers anyway. Good of mankind and all that."
"Mmm."
"I don't remember the last member of mankind that was actually /good/," Wolverine grumbled.
"It's not the easiest thing to have your pessimistic thoughts in my head, you know? Does it scare you how much I know about you?" Marie tilted her head slightly, intent on Logan's answer.
"Well, you probably know some things that even /I/ don't know anymore. And, no, it doesn't bother me. Because you're so sweet, you'd never use my own mind against me."
"How do you know?" A smile blossomed across Marie's face.
"I have to trust you."
"And do you?"
"With my life."
It was beyond dark outside when they finally finished talking and eating. As they walked out to the parking lot, Marie said, "Funny, my blind date never did show up…"
Logan gave her a strange look. "Scott and Jean weren't here either…"
They looked at each other, paused. "I'm gonna kill them!" they said together.
Epilogue:
Rogue held the warm coffee cup between her two gloved hands and watched as Wolverine downed his cup and made a face.
"Even /with/ this healing power- that stuff is gross!" he grumbled.
"Hey, you promised. No complaining. And it's not my fault you kept it black."
Wolverine paused a moment, a scheming look across his face. "If I try yours - as sissy as all that cream and sugar and whatnot is - you have to answer me one question."
"I'm up for that, I guess." Rogue handed him the cup and he swallowed a gulp.
"Huh. That /is/ good." Embarrassed that he actually liked Marie's coffee, he was quick to move on. "Anyway- how much do you /really/ know about me?"
A smile crept across Rogue's face. "Does the Smurf theme song ring any bells?"
-fin-
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks: To WhiteShadow for the tasty ideas, and whoever wrote the fic that featured Wolverine dreaming of Smurfs… I can't recall. I shall look into this. To Anne for the beta, to Paul for informing me of how ridiculous all of this would be. To me, for writing a fic of which I cannot pronounce the title! Note: Don't read funny fics when the rest of the class is testing. Snorting
in total silence is embarrassing!
in total silence is embarrassing!