They had been talking for a while–well, alternating between serious bonding speech and casual banter–and somehow the subject got around to Jean Grey.
“I really don’t blame you for being attracted to her,” Rogue muttered into her tea. Logan’s brows raised. Most people verbally berated him at every opportunity, and even if they didn’t he could sense the animosity–hell he could practically smell it. Rogue, however, smelled honest. She usually did, with him, and he appreciated it.
“Really?”
“Yeah, Ah mean she was perfection incarnate, which might be daunting were not for her personality, and she was a natural redhead, which is sexy to anyone with good taste–and dark, dark red too. Very attractive to anyone with any real sense–very sexy.” She peered up at Logan who was looking at her quite oddly. “What?”
“Is that just me in your head calling her sexy, or…” Aw, he’s so cute when he’s awkward. Well, as cute as wolverines get anyway–cute in a rough, animal way…manly. Rogue stifled a giggle, but indulged herself in a faint smirk.
“Logan, Ah have all male psyches in mah head with me, here. Should bisexuality really be a surprise?” she drawled. Logan seemed to relax a little, though his eyes turned appraising for a moment, and Rogue wondered if it was because of the revelation itself or her sheer boldness.
“Suppose not,” he acknowledged, and then looked faintly thoughtful. “Especially with me in there,” he muttered, tone half-amused but his eyes apologetic. Rogue surprised him by shrugging it off with utmost casualness.
“Stranger attractions have resulted from people in mah head,” she informed him ruefully. “Ah could not be happier that they faded quickly.” Logan quirked a brow at this. His amusement remained, though it was slightly tinged with concern.
“Like what? From who?”
“Er…” Rogue looked nervous, blushing slightly and trying to hide behind her tea mug as Logan took a patient swig of his beer. “Magneto,” she said finally.
“Say no more. I think I can guess,” he offered. Snorting slightly, Rogue laughed.
“Oh, no you can’t,” she sniggered.
“Really?”
“Let’s say that they’re more than ‘old friends’ eh?” Rogue looked positively impish, though her cheeks flushed in embarrassment under the suggestive eyebrow wiggle she shot him. Logan stopped mid-swig, a drop of beer trickling off his lower lip. With great effort, Rogue kept herself from ogling it and focused on looking smug and forcing the blush away. The information took a long moment for Logan to absorb, and eventually he swallowed his mouthful of beer and set down the bottle.
“Yer shittin’ me.”
“Sugah, Ah shit you not,” Rogue returned, straight-faced and solemn despite the glint of amusement still visible in her demeanor. Logan grimaced a little.
“Him and Chuck?”
“Yep.” She was quite solemn, and had finally stifled that unruly blushing. Logan allowed himself another pause, grimace still in place.
“That’s a little disturbing,” he relented. Rogue arched a brow in an elegant sardonic manner that competed with his own trademark eyebrow raise, yet that remained her own entirely. “Not the gay part. Just…”
“Tell me about it. Ah partially experienced it for a day or two,” she muttered, tapping her head with a gloved finger. Then paused. “So homosexuality doesn’t bother ya?”
“Do you see me abusing Popsicle Boy?” he countered. Rogue choked, glaring at Logan’s smirk, then meeting it with her own.
“Before or after we broke up? As I remember it…”
“I never abused him,” Logan complained.
“He has at least a couple of scars that might suggest otherwise,” she muttered.
“Danger Room sessions: you can’t prove a thing,” Logan said quickly, picking up another beer after dropping the empty one in the nearby recycle bin.
“You do know I have him in mah head? I got a memory of your little ‘warning’ speech,” she teased. Logan, however, scowled seriously.
“When did he get in there?” Rogue blushed a little.
“Uhm…”
“Maybe I will abuse him-“
“Logan!”
“What happened, Marie?”
“It was at his house after the attack on the mansion, Logan. It was just a kiss for chrissakes.” Logan visibly eased. A slight pause passed them as Marie stood and moved across the kitchen to pour herself some more tea.
“Did you just assume by the flannel that two guys would make me uncomfortable?” he asked.
Rogue peered at him through the steam over her mug as she sat back down. Resist the urge to rib him about the arguments between him and Scott and the fact they border on the homoerotic. I could swear its all alpha-male-induced unresolved sexual tension.
MARIE! shouted the Logan in her head. Carefully, Rogue kept her face impassive despite her amusement that he’d woken up, keeping her eyes on the real Logan, who appeared mildly expectant.
“Ah don’t assume anythin’ with you, Logan. You know that,” she replied seriously, her southern drawl a little more pronounced. “I think most of my idea it might unnerve ya was how much ya ribbed on John, even before he left,” she explained. Logan snorted.
“He was just an ass.” He paused abruptly and arched a brow. “Wait…you’ve got him and the popsicle both in there?” he inquired, letting the suggestion hang, the mischievous glitter in his eyes not muting it in the least. Rogue flushed even more heavily and cleared her throat.
“Uh...heh...yea.” Clearing her throat again, she let him draw his own conclusions. A thought occurred to her.
“How did you know both of ‘em are…”
“Part of the people-readin’ I picked up cage fightin’,” he muttered. Rogue nodded, but soon a wicked gleam appeared in her eyes.
“You get any offers?” she needled suggestively. She might as well have elbowed him, winked and said ‘Nudge-nudge, say-no-more, say-no-more, eh?’ Logan brushed it off.
“I always get offers.” Another swig of beer and he was passive as could be.
“Not from the women,” Rogue sighed, rolling her eyes. Logan kept his eyes shut as he lowered the bottle, his body stiff. He wasn’t blushing, but to Rogue–so used to reading him–he might as well have done so. Understandably, she smirked evilly. He opened his eyes and half-glared at her, daring her to mock.
“Yeah. A few.”
“Funny I don’t have any of those memories,” she mused. Logan shot her a mild glare, but inwardly found himself thinking, ‘thank god!’ Her smirk only widened. “So did you…”
“Never had the inclination. No attraction there at all,” he assured her, and she sensed his honesty. Rogue pursed her lips, almost disappointed. Her thoughts turned inward and she missed the fact Logan’s eyes lingered on her lips, causing him to lick his own quickly.
Well considering the places he fights in, I’m not surprised that his offers would have been less than attractive. Scott is a pretty-boy, though so maybe...
She could feel the Logan in her head seething, but speechless with either disgust and horror or pure shock–she wasn’t sure. Scott has a pretty mouth. Pausing, she had one of those moments where she was unsure if that last thought was hers or had come from one of the other inhabitants of her mind, but brushed it off.
“I figured as much, but I have to ask, Sugah. Part of my determination not to assume with ya,” she half-teased. Logan smiled a little. Her inner Logan however was finally beginning to sputter outraged comments and she couldn’t contain a deep blush and amused giggle.
“Marie?”
“Er…let’s just say that mah mind was pretty corrupt even before everybody else moved in…and the part of you still in there is a bit flustered with some of that corruption,” she giggled. Logan raised a brow curiously as Rogue sniggered helplessly.
“Okay, damn it, now I’m curious. Tell me.” Rogue shot him a slightly panicked look. Now he was reallycurious. She tried to hide behind her tea mug, inching lower in her seat.
“Er…” To her great relief, a creak behind her signaled a new arrival in the kitchen. Logan’s hackles raised slightly. Close call, she thought, but then got a look at their visitor and had to cover her mouth to keep from releasing the hysterical laughter that bubbled up her throat so threateningly. It was Scott, pretty boy to the extreme with ruffled bed-head, wearing only rumpled flannel pajama pants. Oh Dear Jesus, she thought helplessly. Her eyes darted between the two men in their characteristic Moment of Tension™ that they used in place of an actual greeting. Homoerotic? Of course not, Rogue, you’re just a pervert.
“Couldn’t sleep. You guys?” Scott asked casually.
“Just talkin’,” Logan replied–not scathing, but not friendly either. Rogue could do little but nod, and as Scott turned to open one of the cabinets, she let her forehead rest on the table. There was a faint ‘thud.’
“Rogue, are you okay?” Scott asked, his brows contracting over his visor as he looked at her over his shoulder.
“Fine!” she said quickly, shooting upright again, but blushing so hard she could feel the blood pulsing in her skin all the way down her neck. Logan found himself pondering, not quite innocently, exactly how far down her blush could go. Scott pursed his lips slightly and Rogue’s eyes flickered toward the movement. As Rogue forced herself to think of anything but at the two attractive men in the kitchen with her, Logan’s voice in her head interrupted:
Okay fine–he does have a pretty mouth.
Rogue fell out of her chair.
“Rogue!” Scott and Logan sounded alarmed, but their concern was met with a peal of hysterical laughter. Exchanging glances, Scott and Logan communicated only confusion, but before they could move to her aid, Rogue pulled herself back into her seat, stifling the still wild laughter behind one hand, and keeping her eyes tight shut. When she opened them she looked at Logan as if she’d never seen him before–it was frighteningly similar to the look he had given her when she commented on Jean’s sexiness. He paled visibly.
“What did I say?” he demanded, clearly aware of some terrible thing spoken in Rogue's head. Scott looked utterly confused, and rightly so.
“Uhm…” he began. Rogue pulled herself together enough to reply.
“Head corruption, Scott. I’m…” her eyes flickered to his mouth again involuntarily and she forced down another fit of giggles, her ribcage quivering with the effort as she immediately met his gaze again as best she could through the visor. “I’m really sorry. Just some…internal conversation.” The Fearless Leader’s brows furrowed.
“That doesn’t sound healthy.”
“It isn’t,” Rogue assured, but was still grinning like a fool.
“What did I say, Rogue?” Logan asked solemnly. Rogue considered for a moment that she might lie and tell him it was Johnny or something, but instead found herself embarrassed beyond words. Her inner Logan seemed to be feeling similarly. She took a few deep breaths and rested her forehead against her hand.
“On my twenty-first birthday, when you get me drunk like you promised, I might tell you,” she sighed. Scott’s brows raised, but he was less surprised than he let on, until Logan grumbled under his breath and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Rogue was surprised as well on that point.
“You keep a list of things to ask me when I’m drunk?” she squawked. Logan grinned wickedly as he pulled a small pencil from the binding and scribbled casually.
“Serves you right for saying that as much as you have,” he countered. Rogue pouted. It was Scotts turn to inquire incredulously.
“Does this happen a lot with you two?”
“Surprisingly often,” Rogue admitted.
“Number twenty-seven…” Logan muttered as he scribbled. Scott shook his head, taking a drink from the glass of water he’d come downstairs for in the first place. He surprised them by smirking faintly.
“Mind if I join your twenty-first-birthday binge so I can find out what about me you found so funny?” he inquired. Logan and Rogue both blanched.
“He was involved?”
“Well she didn’t collapse into hysterics until I got here…”
“Marie…”
Rogue had the distinct look of a deer in the headlights. Her eyes flickered from Scott’s gaze, to Logan’s, to how delectable both she and most of the people in her head seemed to find Scott’s mouth when he smirked like that, to Logan’s mouth which she admitted was equally enticing before at last flicking up to his eyes where they lingered for a long moment before she picked up her tea, now cool enough to drink, and took a slow, casual sip. Both boys looked so expectant, and slightly smug in Scott's case. Fuck 'em
What an enticing idea! That was Rogue's own anticonscience, and she pushed it aside with practiced ease.
“I guess you’ll just have to get me really drunk, Logan,” she teased. Her dark eyes told him she had blackmail, and he was disturbed, trying to think of anything involving both himself and One-eye that could be blackmail…and make her laugh like that; it did not bode well at all. He visibly paled and found that he could see her teeth as she smirked behind the rim of her mug. Damn, she has a pretty mouth...
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here is the story behind this little story: I'm just getting off of winter break. I have school the next morning, and have already stayed up late indulging my addiction on this very website. I need sleep. Instead, this little scene unfolds in my head. Of course I have to write it! It even titled itself!