He was ready to keel over. Gruesome week without sleep was finally over. Tonight he would sleep, dreams or not. He lay down on his bed and let out an exhausted sigh, curling to his side. Just before drifting off he thought about his neighbor. He had asked about her earlier. They had told him she was a student. They had told him about her skin. He felt sorry for her. They were much alike. Neither had any way of disarming themselves. Both were lethal and carried their weapons in plain sight, but still hidden. Hers were under layers of clothes, his under his own flesh and skin. They had told him that her name was Rogue. Couldn’t be her real name. No creature that beautiful should carry a name like that. Image of her floated to the front of his mind and accompanied him to the slumber.
He was a guest. A long-term guest. Too dangerous for students, yet valuable asset for the team. So they had told her when she had asked about her mysterious neighbor. Unbreakable man. When they had found him he had told them that his name was Wolverine. Surely it couldn’t be his real name? What parent would name their son after an animal? They had warned her off from him. He had mental problems. Who didn’t in a place like this? And what could he do? Heal her to death? Healing was his power. He healed from everything. And was very talented in hurting others. So, stay away from him, Rogue, they had told her.
She was sketching his face to a notepad from her memory when animalistic roar from his room made her jump and sprint out of her room. Another nightmare. And judging from the sound of it, pretty bad. On a scale from one to ten maybe twenty.
She knocked on the door. There was no answer, just silence. She knocked again. Now she could hear silent sobs from the room. She tried the doorknob. Door opened with a silent squeak.
He was sitting under the window, leaning his back on the wall. Window was partially open and his chest was heaving when he kept gasping cold night air. There were knives coming out from his hands.
She stood on the doorstep, unsure of what to do. He had been afraid of her earlier. She wanted to help him, but how could she do it without scaring him even more?
Dream had been interesting. It had had some totally new aspects. She had been in there, watching when they cut him open, all the time screaming and crying, praying them to stop. And it seemed to have followed him to waking world. She was standing in his room when he came back to his senses. It felt so real. He could even hear slight murmur from her heart and smell vanilla and peppermint. Then it dawned on him. This wasn’t a dream anymore. She was really there. Watching his hands with those big eyes of her. Claws. Throbbing pain in his arms and palms. They were out. Busted. He could start packing. They would throw him out before dawn.
She took a cautious step towards him. He started to stand up little clumsily and she backed up the same step she had just taken. She really had scared him.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. She looked ready to bolt if he moved an inch more. Now she started to look puzzled.
“Does it hurt when they come out? Is that why you scream?” She asked and his knees gave up. He fell gracelessly on his ass and bumped his head against the wall behind him. Of all the things he had expected her to do this was not on the list. She should have gone running from the first glimpse of the claws, not stay and ask if they hurt him.
“Every time,” he grunted.
She wanted to go to him and hug him again, but she wasn’t sure how he would react. She inched slowly closer at him, and this time he didn’t try to run. She kneeled in front of him and reached one finger to touch the blades. They disappeared with a silent hiss, sliding back inside of his hands. Wounds they left healed over instantly.
“Careful. They’re sharp,” he said, tucking his hands under his thighs, hiding them from her eyes.
Still he couldn’t smell fear. Only vanilla and peppermint. And she had tried to touch him. Touch the claws. Now she was looking at him with those big brown eyes and looked so sad. She brushed a strand of hair back from his forehead and he jerked his head away from her touch. It felt too good.
“It’s ok. I won’t hurt you. I got gloves on, see.” She wriggled her fingers in front of his face. Thick white cotton gloves covering her hands up to her elbows, disappearing under the sleeves of her nightgown. Hurt him? And what was with the gloves? Her skin, he remembered and barked a short, gruff laughter.
He laughed. It sounded a bit scary. Low, rumbling sound rolling from him, almost like some big animal. Why did he laugh? Usually people just huffed and rolled their eyes when she told them she couldn’t hurt them through clothes and then they asked less politely not to touch them.
“I’m not afraid of you. Why aren’t you afraid of me? Everybody else is,” he asked.
“Is… Is it okay if I touch you?” She asked. Do wonders never cease? She had seen the claws, and still she wanted to touch him. He remembered how it had felt the last time when she had hugged him, and nodded. Maybe she wanted to hug him again? He hoped she wanted. Then she surprised him again. She climbed on his lap, straddling him and wound her small hands to his unruly hair. And smiled.
“I could give you a back rub. That could help you to relax. Maybe you would sleep better after that.” A back rub? Sure. But not right now. He threw his arms around her and squeezed hard, crushing her to him. She was so soft and warm. She started to struggle and he let her go.
“Watch the skin,” she smiled, turned her head to a better position and returned to his embrace. He sighed contended and hid his face behind curtain of her hairs, taking in her scent.
His breathing started to slow down. His grasp from her loosened. He was falling to sleep. She reached a blanket from his bed, wrapped it around them and let the steady beat of his heart lull her to slumber too. She hoped that this time he wouldn’t have nightmares.
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