“I think,” Rogue slurred, her voice slightly muffled from behind her gloved arm. “That I should have a question limit.”
“It’s hard to hear you with your face pressed into the bar top, Rogue,” Scott said placidly, contemplating his half-empty beer, and the buzz he felt, and generally wondering if he should stop. Logan had already caught him slurring a few times.
“She wants a question limit,” Logan clarified, tossing back a shot of whiskey carelessly. Rogue’s gloved hand shot up and pointed at him without her head lifting from the table.
“That’s it ezzac-ally,” she stated, poking his leather-clad bicep. Though slurred, her speech actually held less of a southern accent when she was drunk. She fell into an accent made up of the combined speech patterns of everyone in her head–often with disturbing results. “Mein Herr,” she added, causing Scott’s eyebrows to raise above his ruby shades.
“Kid, the German is freaking out our Fearless Leader,” Logan informed her.
“Arschloch can deal with it,” she growled. Scott reflected that there were few things scarier than Magneto’s words spoken through the filter of Logan’s speech pattern. Among them were those same words with that same filter coming out of Rogue’s mouth. He shuddered visibly, and was relieved to see Logan equally perturbed to some extent. Logan idly pushed a shot of whiskey toward Rogue, obviously hoping it would chase away traces of Magneto by strengthening his own presence. Rogue lifted her head a little and peered at the shot for a moment before straightening on her barstool and tossing it back with as much seasoned practice as Logan, but also a certain flair of class that was her own. She was a picture of feminine roughness, her back slightly arched and her neck stretched. Logan found his eyes lingering on her throat as she swallowed easily, savoring the burn. He felt a slightly different burn and looked away quickly, digging his checklist from his pocket.
“Forty-two,” Rogue said, slamming down her empty shot glass. The men on either side of her shot her identical strange looks.
“Forty-two?” they inquired in unison, and then shot each other identical looks of horror. Rogue burst out laughing, leaning forward over the bar top again and pulling herself together enough to settle for drunken giggling. One glance at the stupefied disgust on Logan’s face set her off again. Somewhere amidst her near-hysteria she managed to clarify that forty-two would be her question limit and that they both needed to read something about hitchhiking.
“Ready for the Q&A, then, Kid?” Logan finally inquired once she had at last tapered off into silent sniggers that caused her ribcage to quiver as she contained them. This quivering also brought Logan’s attention to her chest at an extent he found unhealthy. He cleared his throat uneasily.
“Yea–Yes, Sugar, I’ll see about them questions now,” she managed, still fighting down amusement. She turned to Scott and fluttered her eyelashes at him. The Fearless Leader had the grace, and blood alcohol content, to give a faintly flustered blush. “Since you’re new to the game here, Scott, do ya want to start us off?” Logan admired the way Rogue made Scott squirm. He had shown up as a spectator, strictly because of one question he wanted to hear the answer too, and they all knew Rogue was not yet drunk enough to answer it. Patiently, Rogue kept her Mississippi mud-colored eyes on him as Logan signaled the bartender for another round of shots.
“Why did you keep the streaks?” Scott blurted suddenly. Rogue looked mildly surprised, then thoughtful.
“Hmm. I kinda like ‘em. Something about them goes with mah skin, too. Like those poison dart frogs that are all really brightly colored so you know they poison–well this shock of white” –she twirled half of it in her gloved fingers– “is just like that.”
“And you like that?” Scott asked, softer now, and slightly incredulous.
“It’s part of who I am. It’s part of my trademark now,” she mused. “But I know what you’re thinkin’ about maybe an unhealthy reminder or something. That’s not it. More like a scar I’m half-proud of. I survived what happened to put it there, I love the people who helped me and I know they care for me, and I’ve gotten stronger and become who I am because of it.” A moment of heavy silence passed over them, Rogue looking away from the respect the two men seemed to intent to stare at her with. “Don’t look at me like that. Damn. This is supposed to be happy drunk birthday night. That’s two questions, forty to go.”
“Two?” Logan protested.
“Why I kept them and if I liked it. Two questions, sugar,” Rogue purred. Logan scowled faintly and gestured for the bartender to leave the bottle.
“You’re not drunk enough by half, Kid,” he growled. Rogue gave her brightest smile with a wicked, shameless edge to it that made Logan’s face feel twice as warm the shot of whiskey had.
“I blame your influence,” she countered and easily lifted her next shot to her lips. Scott caught Logan’s eye in mid-stare this time and enjoyed the momentary look of disconcert on the other man’s face before he recovered enough to shoot Scott a harsh glare. Behind his beer, Scott only smirked faintly and behind his glasses he narrowed his eyes in a way that, had Logan seen it, would have clearly read “gotcha!”
“Question three of forty-two, Logan,” Rogue demanded, lifting the bottle and refilling her own glass. Logan cleared his throat and fumbled with the notepad. He arched a brow at the hasty list and cleared his throat.
“What the hell were you and Jean giggling about that night a few months back?” he growled.
“What night?”
“You had a carton of mint chocolate ice-cream. Jean had a glass of fruit juice or somethin’…”
“Oh yeah!” Rogue sniggered a little. “You had been diggin’ in the refrigerator, and both Jean and I–in unison–tilted back in our seats to look, shot each other a conspiratorial look and eased back. Then you pulled back and stood up with a beer looking clueless and we just kinda lost it.” She enjoyed the disturbed look on Scott’s face and the mixture of confusion, interest and embarrassment on Logan’s and sniggered. “You had a piece of gum stuck to your back jeans pocket, Logan,” she managed. Scott required a full two seconds of recovery time before he burst out laughing. Logan looked torn between embarrassment and rage. “Jubilee had gone the whole day terrified that you would notice it, find out it was her fault for sticking it to some seat, and no one would find her body.” That at least brought an altogether disturbing grin to Logan’s face.
“They won’t, once I get my hands on ‘er.”
“Logan, what have we told you about your claws and the student populace?” Scott warned.
“Fine. No claws. How deep is that lake a few miles into the woods?”
“What have we said about the student populace and murder?”
“Grrr. Fine. She lives.”
“Good.”
“But she gets moved to my gym class.”
Both Scott and Rogue flinched and shuddered visibly. Logan merely looked back to his list.
“Why the hell do you always giggle when you hear that seventies song?” he asked. Rogue giggled. “Yea, like that.”
“What song?” Scott inquired, setting aside his empty bottle and ordering another beer.
“Stuck in the middle with you…” Rogue half-sang half-slurred, then broke off and giggled in a distinctly evil fashion. Scott seemed to contemplate for a moment.
“I think I know why…”
“Really?” Rogue looked at him curiously.
“Reservoir Dogs?”
“Damn straight!” Rogue crowed, punching him in the shoulder. “How is it that you’ve seen that movie and not him?” she jerked her thumb at a scowling Wolverine. Scott sighed, rubbing his temples.
“I made the mistake of letting St. John pick a film for movie night one time…” He managed a weak grin at Rogue as she patted his shoulder consolingly.
“I feel your pain,” she offered and tapped the side of her head. “It was his influence in my head that persuaded me to rent the thing.”
“St. John and the curse of Quentin Terentino,” Scott sighed.
“Will one of you fuckin’ explain this to me?” Logan demaned. Rogue turned to him, and did indeed explain the torture scene from ‘Reservoir Dogs’ very dramatically, complete with many illustrative gestures, off-color singing from herself and an unwilling Scott and her attempt to mimic the dance with a straight razor that was somehow less dramatic when all she had at her disposal was a spork. Both men regretted that they had no camera.
“Queshh-tee-on five of four-tee-two,” commanded Rogue, slurring even more now that she and Logan had gone through half the whiskey bottle.
“Why did you have a spork in your pocket?” Scott asked before Logan could again pick up his notepad.
“Leftover from my lasht trip to Taco Bell at two in the morning with Kurt. It wash after a mission and we decided they made good weaponsh. Eye-gouging tools,” she answered, almost spilling her whiskey.
“Don’t waste another question by asking her about technique, Scooter,” Logan said quickly, having seen the query form on Scott’s face before the man even opened his mouth. Scott scowled. Logan read off of his list:
“Have you used and or exaggerated your Southern accent for the sake of manipulation?” Rogue choked. Logan smirked.
“Er…I don’t know what ya mean,” she said quickly, the question catching her off guard and sobering her a little.
“Oh come on,” Scott muttered. Rogue looked at him in mild horror. “I witnessed you deliberately take advantage of those poor boys when you in my class. One “shugah” from you and your homework and Bobby’s would be mysteriously similar for a week.” Rogue flushed guiltily, gave a faint smirk.
“It certainly improved my grades some weeks, eh?” she mumbled.
“Any other times?” Logan asked innocently. Rogue fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Does using it on you count?” she purred, enjoying the way his jaw dropped. From the warm fuzzy place where her inhibitions used to be, a voice reflected that he was incredibly attractive when he was shocked. Another voice from the same place countered that he was always that attractive, but shocking him was certainly satisfying. She licked her lips and Logan found his brain function compromised. Scott felt like a third wheel, and inched a little away from the pair as far as his barstool would allow.
“Why ‘sugar’?” he interrupted their romantic moment. Rogue shrugged, and Scott swore he could hear an audible rip when she removed her eyes from Logan.
“Just somethin’ my momma used to say,” she said idly. “It mus’ be a Mississippi thang.” Logan regained himself and poured them both another round of shots.
“What do you have against cowboy hats?” Logan read off of his list. Scott looked bewildered when Rogue shot him an apologetic look.
“Er…”
“Rogue?” Logan asked pleasantly, pleased to sense Scott’s discomfort.
“One of the people in my head–I refuse to say which except that it ain’t Logan–had this…fantasy of...” trailing off, she mumbled very quietly.
“Okay, even I couldn’t heat that,” Logan growled.
“Mr.Summersinonlyacowboyhatcowboybootsandchapsseducingthem,” she said quickly. A long silence followed. “Singing,” she added weakly and picked up the whiskey bottle. Scott’s face was an odd puce color and Logan was laughing so hard his eyes threatened to water. Rogue bypassed shots and took an impressive swig from the bottle, shuddering appreciatively. Logan took it from her, still laughing weakly.
“Why did I come here again?” mumbled Scott, his voice slightly strangled. Behind his visor his eyes were squeezed tightly shut against the mental imagery. When that really didn’t help, he let them snap open, a great effort of masculine will keeping him from whimpering.
“I’d rather not remind ya,” Rogue muttered.
“It can’t be worse than that,” Scott scoffed. When Rogue failed to reply he gave her a pained look. “Please tell me it doesn’t get worse.”
“Uhm…define ‘worse’” Rogue said delicately. Scott blanched. “Where are we…question––eleven I believe.”
“I don’t think you’re countin’ sober, kid.”
“I am and I say it’s eleven.”
“Fine…hrmmph,” Logan conceded, flipping to the next page in his notebook. “Is popsicle boy gay?” Rogue nearly pulled a spit take. Scott again shut his eyes very tightly.
“If this is at all related to the previous question, and the answer is affirmative, I may have to borrow that spork of yours to carve out my eardrums,” he whimpered.
“No, Logan, he is not,” Rogue snarled, shooting Logan a glare. Logan only smirked smugly. When Summer sighed in relief and covered his face with a hand, Rogue hurriedly turned to Logan and mouthed ‘He’s bi.’ Arching a brow, he silently returned ‘really?’ and Rogue nodded quickly, gesturing to her own bust as if it were obvious. Logan coughed and looked away. Too quiet for a normal human to hear, Rogue whispered into her shot glass, “That fantasy was from John anyway,” causing Logan to choke. Scott looked up.
“What was that?”
“Nothin’, Mr. Summers. For the safety of your psyche you don’t wanna know anyway,” Rogue said quickly. Scott accepted this reluctantly.
“Next question, please. Something to get those images out of my head…”
“I think I’ll take a break, actually,” Logan mused. Scott sneered.
“Question twelve, Logan,” Rogue sighed. Pouting, Logan muttered a disgruntled ‘fine’ and checked his list again.
“You mentioned something about Magneto’s sense of humor effecting you––what did you mean?”
“Er…I told you to ask me that later because it’s so hard to explain, and being drunk is not gonna make it any easier or understandable, sugar.”
“Just try,” Logan encouraged. “I’m curious.”
“Well obviously,” Rogue muttered, and rested her chin on the back of one hand, thinking. “It’s something like sarcasm but more snide and refined. Black humor, obviously, but an appreciation of a type of irony that is behind his crush on Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal.”
“Okay, that is creepier than the thing with him and Wheels,” Logan choked. Scott shuddered.
“Logan stop asking such disturbing questions!”
“The questions aren’t disturbing. Rogue, ease up a little, you’re scarin’ Scooter.”
“Aww,” Rogue pouted.
“If you were still in any of my classes, Rogue, you would suffer. As it is, I’m going to have to plot,” Scott grumbled, surprising them by taking a shot of whiskey.
“You could always run while you still can,” Rogue offered sincerely.
“I will definitely consider it,” Scott said into his shot glass. Logan muttered something against Scott’s masculinity under his breath and Rogue kicked him in the calf.
“Ow! Those heels are fuckin’ lethal!”
“And you don’t even have to walk in ‘em drunk,” Rogue countered. “Or were you referring to how my ass looks when I walk in ‘em?”
“Er…”
“What’s the matter, Logan, you look flustered,” Scott inquired innocently. Rogue turned on him.
“What do you think, Scott?” she cooed. Again, the fearless leader blushes. Rogue wonders if she should tell him it goes well with his lips.
“Ahem–next question,” Logan called.
“Yes, moving on,” Scott concurred weakly. Rogue sat back on her barstool, satisfied in her feminine power.
“As you wish, sugars,” she shrugged. Login fumbled with his list.
“Hmm…well let’s skip this one,” Logan muttered.
“What? No way, Logan. Let me see!” She peered at his list and sniggered. “Ah can answer that.”
“I’d rather you not, I think,” Logan growled under his breath, but Rogue was already looking contemplative.
“It was that thing about yellow spandex.”
“Oh god,” Logan groaned.
“Yellow spandex?” Scott looked far too amused and intrigued. Logan jabbed a finger at him accusingly.
“It was your damn fault, and she’s not gonna explain it to ya.”
“I’m not?” Rogue pouted. Logan growled dangerously. “Fine. Sheesh. Question fourteen, the one-third mark.”
“Wait a minute…Magneto and the professor?”
“You don’t wanna know,” Logan and Rogue said in unison. Scott felt some sanity-preservign mental block appear in his mind to keep him from inquiring further.
“Question fifteen, then,” Rogue said.
“That one shouldn’t count,” Logan growled.
“I’m the one bein’ interrogated, I get to decide what counts,” she returned with equal growl. Logan scowled, but did not dispute her claim again.
“Alright, what is this ‘noodle incident’ that you and Jubilee keep mentionin’ but not explainin’?” he read. With an audible groan, Rogue picked up the bottle again.
“Oh god…all that pasta…”
“Okay, I’m curious about this too,” Scott informed.
“Terrible things with pasta…”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
It's night of the undead plotbunny. I guess I'm continuing this plotline, but if I AM going to keep it up I'll need suggestions for further questions. Seriously, I'm not that creative on questions Logan would ask Rogue when she's drunk.
Acknowledgements(not in order of appearance):
1)I mention the movie 'Reservoir Dogs' and namely its torture scene and sound track.
2)"noodle incident" is a tip of the hat to Calvin and Hobbes
3)Forty-Two is a tip of the hat to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy because Douglas Adams is my personal god. It's the ultimate answer. Read the books.
4)I seriously think it's likely that Magneto has a thing for Anthony Hopkins. I admit to personally having a thing for Hannibal. Yes, I'm messed up.
Acknowledgements(not in order of appearance):
1)I mention the movie 'Reservoir Dogs' and namely its torture scene and sound track.
2)"noodle incident" is a tip of the hat to Calvin and Hobbes
3)Forty-Two is a tip of the hat to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy because Douglas Adams is my personal god. It's the ultimate answer. Read the books.
4)I seriously think it's likely that Magneto has a thing for Anthony Hopkins. I admit to personally having a thing for Hannibal. Yes, I'm messed up.