The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
This story sat on my hard drive for a long time, waiting for me to finish it. Finally, the muse struck and I think it's ready for consumption. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.
“God damn it, woman, where are you?!”
He could smell her. She had to be close. A few agonizing seconds later, he found her in a heap around the next corner, the soft flesh of her belly torn in jagged lines. Things meant to be inside were out. Shit.
Creed
Every contraction her heart made was obvious, as blood gushed from a wound at the bend of her arm, and with each rush of blood her body grew colder. She was so pale it shocked him into silence. He dropped to his knees, unable to tear his eyes from the fatal wounds. It was her voice that got his attention, weak, but still very much the smart-mouth girl he'd spent the last ten years watching grow into a woman.
"Hey, sugar," she whispered faintly before a gurgling cough took her breath. He watched her draw in another painful lung full of air and listened closely as she insisted, "It’s not as bad as it looks."
"It's worse," he ground out hoarsely. She smiled weakly, putting up a brave front. Without forethought, Logan pulled the gloves from his hands and moved to touch her. He had expected protests to fall from her lips, but none came. She only looked into his eyes, the pain being obvious, but gratitude was prevalent. As he laid a bare hand on Rogue’s face and felt the pull of her mutation, he found himself once again truly grateful for his mutation.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sound of a heartbeat entered his conscious mind before anything else. He heard the padding of Jean's soft shoes and opened his eyes to see her concerned face hovering over his. When he lifted an arm to rub his eyes he became aware of the aching soreness throughout his body.
That didn't happen often.
His frown must have alerted Jean because she asked in a concerned tone, "How do you feel?"
"Well I'm not dead, so it can't be that bad," he quipped.
"Logan, that's not funny," she reprimanded with a frown of her own. He supplied a grunt at that.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
"Twelve days." The shock on his face gave Jean a chance to continue. "That's why I asked how you felt. The last time you two pulled this stunt you were only unconscious a little more than two days. I suspect given your and Rogue's reaction, she took much more from you this time than last."
After pushing himself to a sitting position he said worriedly, "Is she all right?" He became concerned when an answer failed to immediately be voiced. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood and began looking for his clothes. "Where is she?"
"Logan, wait!" Having found a neatly folded pile of his clothes nearby, he did not heed Jean's command and began tugging on a shirt. Realizing that she only had a small amount of time before Logan began scouring the house for her other patient, Jean said hurriedly, "She's fine! She was in a coma for several days, but she's fine now."
He abruptly stopped dressing upon hearing the news. Doing a remarkable job keeping his voice even he asked, "Why was she in a coma?"
"Charles says she had to sort you out. Taking so much at once was a little overwhelming, to say the least. Even if she had done so previously, the strain on the mind –" she paused before continuing. "Thankfully, having so much of you in her head already, it was an easier process than the Professor had thought it might be, despite the coma." She was being as gentle as she could with this news, knowing that Logan hated emptying his mind into a woman he felt didn't deserve the weight of his former misdeeds.
"Where is she?" He asked again, this time with more than a little strain in his voice.
Motioning over her shoulder she replied resignedly, "Two down."
"Thanks," he said and began walking down the corridor. He knocked before stepping in, and as he pushed the door open heard Hank's deep laugh.
"Greetings, Logan," Hank said jovially. Rogue smiled brightly at him from her bed, which meant she still wasn’t well enough to be out of it. Logan felt his mood darken further.
He nodded a greeting toward the doctor before saying, "Hey, darlin'." He walked over to a chair beside the bed and sat down. "You feeling all right?"
"Right as rain," she replied.
"How about up here?" Logan asked, tapping his thick skull. "I causin’ any trouble?"
"Not a bit. You're behaving yourself quite well." She noticed the pronounced frown between his brows and sighed. Moving a gloved hand, she took his and said, “You didn’t hurt me. Stop worrying, all right?” His curt nod was the only response she was going to get. Smiling warmly at his antics, she decided a distraction was in order. Looking up at Hank with a funny grin she asked Logan, "Want to see something neat?" Hank chuckled warmly and developed a more noticeable twinkle in his eye than normal.
Logan knew he had brought down the jovial mood, and finding himself wondering what the wildcat was up to now he shrugged his shoulders and answered, "Why the hell not."
Rogue turned to Hank and winked. “He’s such a killjoy.” Grinning brightly enough to distract any unsuspecting male in the vicinity, which thankfully there were none, she urged, "Have at it, doc."
Logan watched as Hank drew out a needle and vial used to hold blood for testing. After performing the necessary tasks to ready the hypodermic, the needle smoothly punctured the skin on the inside of Rogue's arm, and a few moments later filled with bright red fluid. Hank, having gotten what he was after, wiped the small speck of blood away, leaving the hole from a ten gauge needle.
Unsure of what he was supposed to be watching for, Logan looked to Rogue’s face for guidance and she pointed quickly back to her arm saying, "Watch." No more than a breath later, the puncture wound sealed itself and disappeared.
Logan's eyes went from Rogue to Hank and back again. "Isn't that normal? You usually hold on to my mutation for a while, don't you?"
"Forty-eight to seventy-two hours at most," Hank supplied. "It has been nearly thirteen days now, but your mutation has yet to leave Rogue in the slightest. I believe, given the volume of time your skin and Rogue's remained in contact, that the young lady may have acquired your mutation permanently."
At first all Logan could do was blink dumbly. Then, in shock, he got to his feet and began pacing the room like a caged animal. Looking over at Rogue he shook his head, "I didn't want that for you. This is unacceptable."
"Logan," Rogue said softly, "it's better than me being dead, right?" She watched as his pacing stopped immediately. Smiling reassuringly she said, "We don't know what's going on right now. Maybe me holding on for so long just means I won't get sick or scar for the next six months, then poof, back to regular little me." She patted the seat of the chair again, wanting him to sit still. "It's okay, sugar. I kinda like it. I heard you coming way before you made it down here." Winking at him she said, "You really shouldn't have yelled at Jean. You know how she is."
Logan glared menacingly before crossing the room and sitting in the chair with a thump. A frown once again creased his forehead. He didn't like it, but Rogue seemed genuinely pleased by this development. Releasing a sigh he said, "Whatever makes you happy."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hank ended up being right. Logan’s healing mutation didn't fade from Rogue, nor did his heightened senses. Time passed, as it is wont to do, and during that time Rogue grew accustomed to her new abilities.
Late one night Logan tread soundlessly into the kitchen to see Rogue, bare handed, rolling some kind of dough between her palms and setting it onto a cookie sheet.
"Hey, sugar," she said without turning. "You're up late."
Grabbing a beer from the fridge he replied, "Could say the same thing about you. Having trouble sleeping?" A shrug was all he got. He took it as a yes.
"It's not nearly as bad as it used to be, so I'm not complaining," she said over her shoulder, as she now lightly pressing a pattern on the dough with a fork. "We're going on what, two years now?"
"Yeah, just about," he replied. He took a thoughtful swallow from the bottle in his hand. "Didn't realize it had been that long."
"Yeah, time sneaks by you," she said.
There was irony in that statement, especially for them, he thought. Putting down his beer, he walked over to stand beside her. "Want help with that?"
Auburn eyebrows crawled up toward her hairline. "You want to help me bake cookies?" She laughed, a happy sound that pleased his sensitive ears, causing an immediate smile in return. Whispering conspiratorially she said, "Aren't you afraid somebody'll see you? It'll ruin your reputation forever."
Chuckling, he said, "Nah. I'll hear them way before they make it to the kitchen."
"Cheater," she accused.
"Like you don’t do the same thing.” Her expression of mock indignation drew another deep chuckle. “Here, give me some of that," he said, reaching for the bowl. As he did so, Rogue playfully pulled the bowl away from him. In an attempt to keep her from getting away, Logan wrapped his fingers around a slender arm, effectively preventing the cookie dough from escaping. Through their laughter neither noticed until several long moments had passed that bare skin lay against bare skin.
Suddenly the laughter died. Rogue snatched her wrist free of Logan's grasp. Looking him over quickly for signs of weakness, she asked breathlessly, "Logan? Are you all right?"
He was silent so long she began to worry. "Nothing happened," he said.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
They stared at one another for a few seconds before gravitating toward the table and sitting. Logan, without giving it a thought, placed his hand palm up on the flat surface. Later, she'd look back on this and wonder what the hell she had been thinking, but at that moment all she could do was reach out and press a single finger to the center of his perfect palm.
They watched the spot for the longest time, waiting for the inevitable.
And not a damn thing happened.
In a voice so low only they could hear he said, “Is it on?” Rogue nodded yes. “What do you think it means?”
Rogue’s eyes began to tear, her lower lip trembling. This should be a happy occasion, but without words they seemed to know exactly what this meant. Logan stood, holding out his hand for Rogue to grasp. “Come on. We’ll go find out what’s going on.”
Two minutes later, Logan and Rogue sat together in Jean and Scott's bedroom. Bleary-eyed, Scott asked with equal measures of concern and irritation, "What's the problem?"
Jean, emerging from the bathroom, stated, "You said something was wrong.” Looking between the two, she decided on whom she thought the most information would be gathered. “What's wrong, Rogue?"
"Look," she said. Logan lifted his hand at the same time Rogue reached for it. They touched and held on long enough that it became evident to Scott and Jean exactly what was wrong. They continued watching as Jean sat on the large chest at the end of her bed. "What does this mean?" Rogue asked.
Jean turned to Scott and said, "Scott, go get Hank. Meet us in the lab."
"I find myself perplexed," Hank said nearly half an hour later. "There is no reaction at all. What would cause such an unequivocal change?" He seemed, now, to be speaking more to himself than the occupants in the room.
Eager to find an answer, Jean suggested, "Maybe it's not just Logan. You’re so careful, Rogue. It is possible you have been able to touch others for quite some time and simply weren’t aware of it."
Rogue shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I can feel it. If I were to touch you now, instead of Logan, it wouldn’t be good.”
"How can you know without trying?" Jean asked. “You have to try.”
"That's not safe, Jeanie, and you know it," Logan said gruffly. Just about anyone hearing him say those words would assume he meant not safe for the person being touched, but Rogue knew he meant for her. There were only so many people she could tolerate running around in her head.
"I can do it," she said. "I can tell immediately when it starts to draw. It always took longer with you," she said to Logan, "but you're weird.” A small smile turned up the corner of her mouth before she continued, “Anyone else gets sucked in pretty damn quick." Looking back to Jean she said seriously, "No longer than a second. I'll pull back before it hurts either of us."
Scott decided to speak up, "You're sure, Rogue? If you can tell that quickly it shouldn't have that much of an effect, right?"
"Right," she agreed.
"Okay," Jean said. Tentatively extending her hand, Rogue performed the same steps she had with Logan and immediately snatched her hand away. She watched as Jean’s legs wobbled, weak from even such limited contact.
"I'm sorry," Rogue began saying repeatedly. She turned to Logan, an anguished look on her face.
Scott was supporting Jean, who had already regained most of her composure. "I'm all right. It made me dizzy. That’s all." Smiling as brightly as she was able, she teased, "That's quite the mutation you've got there."
"It's a pain in the ass," Rogue said gamely. Looking toward Logan she added, "But it has its uses."
"Yes," Jean agreed, "it does." Feeling nearly normal again, she approached Rogue with a needle and vial. "Do you mind? We'll compare it to past samples and see if anything's changed."
"Sure," Rogue replied, extending her arm.
The blood didn't show anything other than Rogue carried absolutely no bacteria or viruses. That, however, had nothing to do with why she and Logan could touch.
The Professor, Hank and Jean agreed on a hypothesis that after Rogue took on Logan's mutation her skin, most probably, no longer recognized Logan as being a foreign object. Put simply, Rogue’s own mutation could not tell Logan's skin from her own.
It was after this fateful night that everything began to change.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One night, after waking from a dream so horrible it caused her to tremble, Rogue slid from the bed she shared with a red eyed thief and stood there for a long while. She watched as he slept deeply and dreamlessly.
He no longer woke to hold her when she dreamed terrible things. It had been a while since she wondered why. As she turned from him and closed the door behind her, she felt herself walking away from the last few years of her life. If things happened for a reason, this had always been coming. She only hoped it would hurt him less as time passed.
Socked feet carried her to the library, which was dark save for a lamp in one far corner. She hadn't made a sound, but when she rounded the last shelf of books, she found Logan peering over the top of a hardback, string bound biography of Patton.
Logan took in her form, completely covered in pajamas and socks, and asked, "Aren't you hot?" He asked only because it was the beginning of August, and though they were in upstate New York it was still quite warm. He eyes followed her as she sat in the chair next to him and shrugged.
"That any good?" She asked, motioning her head toward his reading material. Leaning forward, she rested her head on his arm to better see the item in question.
"It's not bad," he answered. Looking down, he put a finger beneath her chin and saw it tremble. "What's wrong, baby?" A single tear traveled down her cheek before he brushed it away.
She shook her head, "I'm tired."
He took that to mean she didn't want to talk about it. "Want to stay here for awhile?" The nod against his shoulder gave her answer and he returned to reading. Around half an hour passed while she watched him turn pages, commenting occasionally, but mostly stayed quiet. It wasn't long before she fell asleep, nestled under the arm he had draped over her shoulder.
Looking down, he thought about the situation that had manifested itself over the last few months. Gambit was a decent guy, and Rogue had put up with him for nearly four years now, so he couldn't be that bad. However, quite a few had noticed the rift growing between them, including Logan. It wasn't anyone's fault. Couples broke up all the time at the school, both children and adults alike, but he found himself biased, as he usually did when anything pertained to the woman next to him.
Setting his book down, Logan shifted his weight so that he could slide his other arm under Marie’s knees. He lifted her slight form and strode through the library, up the stairs, and found himself standing outside the room she shared with Remy. He stood there a long time, looking from the door to Rogue and back again.
Anyone watching this would have observed a man arguing silently with himself. Someone who knew what he wanted, but who would lay all that aside if it meant hurting the woman in his arms. The woman whom he looked at so intently shifted, pushing her face into the warmth of his chest, and in doing so made the decision for him. Turning on his heel, he moved down the hall toward the open door of his bedroom.
After gently laying her on the bed he said in a deep rumble, "Marie." Her eyes fluttered open and a soft hum acknowledged his presence. "Take off some of this," he advised, tugging at her pajamas, "or you'll burn up."
Without further prompting she pulled the pajama top over her head, leaving the small t-shirt under it. Next to go were the socks. He chuckled at that, because he knew how much she hated sleeping in socks. The amazing part was that she did all this with her eyes closed. When he pulled the cool sheets and comforter back, she burrowed under and was asleep again in moments.
"What is she, eight?" He murmured to the room.
After closing the door, he stripped down, pulled on a pair of rarely worn boxers and climbed into bed. His weight caused a dip in the mattress, but Rogue staid put. He lay there, flat of his back, thinking about everything that had happened in the past few years leading up to this point. Shaking his head slightly he said, "Crazy."
Hours later he woke to find it still dark, likely just before sunrise. Looking down, he found half of Rogue lying on him. She was a world renowned for her snuggling, or so she insisted. This wasn't the first time they'd slept together. Slept being the key word here. Missions often found them in situations where it was either bunk together or sleep on the floor. He didn't like floors.
Rogue took a deep breath, indicating she was close to waking. After blinking a few times she tilted her head up and smiled. "Good morning."
"Morning," he repeated. "Sun should be up in about half an hour." She nodded her agreement against his shoulder. "Gambit's going out west for Xavier today, isn't he?" Another nod. "Want to go get some breakfast?"
Together they rose and dressed, neither thinking anything of the fact that she had clothes in his room, as that had been the case for years.
The day passed uneventfully and Gambit left mid-afternoon for Vegas. There were a few kids out there causing trouble and Xavier trusted him to handle it. He would probably be gone a week, at least that's what he told Rogue. There were no promises to call, merely a statement as to when he'd return. Having him away would be good for her, she told herself. There would be time to clear her head and see where she wanted to go.
That night, after showering and getting ready for bed, Rogue found herself looking at her bed and not wanting to get in. Without a backward glance she left the room she had lived in for years and walked down the hall to Logan's.
He had gone out around an hour earlier, probably to get a few drinks and pick a fight just for the sake of it. He would be home later, but at the moment his room was empty. Folding back the covers, she climbed into the soft bed and found herself surrounded by the comforting scent of Logan. Sleep came quickly.
A few minutes after two o’clock, Logan walked into a dark room. His hand rose to turn on the light, but stopped on the switch when his ears pricked at the sound of steady breathing. Knowing who it was without having to see, he quietly closed the door and got ready for bed.
As he slid under the sheets, Rogue startled him a little when she said sleepily, "Didja win?"
He smiled into the darkness and answered, "Yeah." The bed shifted slightly as Rogue moved toward him, once again taking up her place draped over the left side of his body.
"G'night," she whispered.
Once upon a time, he probably would have felt bad about a situation like this. Not that ending up in bed with other men's wives or girlfriends had been uncommon throughout his life, but this was different. Rogue was one of the very few friends he had in the world, and Gambit was…well, he was Gambit.
While drifting off, wrapped in the fragrant warmth of this woman, he couldn't bring himself to care.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A warm mouth was pulling steadily at the pulse on his neck. The pull stopped nearly as soon as he consciously recognized the sensation, but picked up with a tongue laving a trail toward his ear. The mouth, upon arriving at his ear whispered, “Wake up.”
He was enjoying this too much to wake up, but when a small hand slid down his body to take hold of his erection, his breathing hitched. “This part of you is awake. Has been for a while now.” He knew she was smiling at him. “Open your eyes,” she requested.
The sun was easing just above the horizon, casting a dim glow throughout the room. Looking up he found warm, green eyes smiling at him. “Hey,” he said gruffly. More would have been said, but the words left him as the friction created with her hand forced his eyes shut. “Sweet Jesus,” he hissed between his teeth. His hips bucked into her hand, but the rest of him continued to lie motionless.
Rogue, tired of waiting for him to make a move, threw a leg over and climbed astride Logan’s midsection. She ground her moist center into the tight abdominals surrounding his navel, eliciting a moan from them both. The pleasurable sensation stopped, however, when Logan sat up. She must have looked at him like he was out of his mind, because he laughed at her.
Then he kissed her.
God, did this man know how to kiss. His lips tugged at hers, his tongue prying until she chased back with her own. Needing air, she pulled away, looking at him with half-lidded eyes that smoldered.
She rose on her knees, easing back slightly, and felt herself align with the broad head of his penis. Large hands gripped her waist, not pressing down but neither pushing away. They looked into each other’s eyes for what seemed like days before she began easing his length inside her. Buried halfway, she had to stop, allowing herself to adjust to his size. Sweat began appearing in beads on Logan’s forehead. Removing her t-shirt, she gently wiped his face.
Logan didn’t notice. He was too busy looking at the beautiful breasts which had suddenly been revealed. Dipping his head, he latched on to a dusky nipple and pulled it deeply into his mouth. Rogue threw her head back and moaned.
Logan’s hips began moving, coaxing her to open a little wider. Letting the breast pop out of his mouth, he moved a thumb to her clit, causing her to jerk down. This movement brought him completely inside her and a guttural moan erupted from deep within Rogue. She opened her eyes to look into his. No words were said. None were needed.
Seeking a deeper penetration, Logan rolled toward the center of the bed and felt silky legs lock around his flanks. Their eyes remained intent on one another as he began thrusting in earnest, the wet sound of their joining echoed throughout the room, as did their frantic breathing.
Just when Logan thought he was going to lose it, soft flutters began to squeeze around him. Hooking his hands behind Rogue’s knees, he tilted them up slightly and slammed into her again and again, watching as those beautiful green eyes rolled toward the top of her head. Her neck arched back, a choking sound breaking from her throat, and she came with such a powerful spasm he felt it all the way to his base. Then, with one last thrust, he came into her so hard he didn’t think he would ever come down.
Collapsing forward, but trying to hold most of his weight off her, he felt the rapid rise and fall of their chests. He rolled to his back, but kept them joined. After a few moments, when she had caught her breath, Rogue pushed herself up to look at him.
“We should have done that a long time ago,” she said simply.
He couldn’t agree more.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"How about getting me the extension for this socket, darlin'," he requested. At present, he was elbow deep in an old pickup he had found in a junkyard a few miles out of town. The engine had been shot all to hell, but it was fixable if you invested the time.
Swiveling his body, he looked to see Rogue walking away from the toolbox with the extension. "Thanks, babe," he said with a wink.
"No problem, sugar." She leaned in, inspecting his work. "How long 'til you think you'll have this thing running?"
"Marie, trucks don't run; they drive." He got a smack for his insolence, which caused deep laughter to ring out in the garage.
"Hey, you two."
The voice caused the two in question to peek around the hood. Scott stood in the doorway, a stern expression covering his face. "I need you to get ready. We're out of here in fifteen." After receiving nods confirming his orders, Scott disappeared into the house.
"I guess this'll have to wait," Logan said, wiping his hands of grease.
"It'll be here when you get back," Rogue said encouragingly. "C'mon. Let's go."
A little over an hour later Logan found himself being shot at. An irritated sigh escaped him as he looked across the corridor to see Rogue hunkered down as well. This shouldn't be so damn difficult, he thought.
Peeking around the corner, he counted five men advancing with automatic weapons. Taking semi-automatic gunfire is manageable, but automatic is another issue entirely. Especially when it's more than one automatic weapon. Maybe, though, if he could get a distraction, he could disable the men before they were able to fire very many rounds.
Where the hell was everyone? He thought frantically.
Rogue shifted her position across the hallway, checking the progress of the men intent on killing them. The guards were wary of charging down the corridor, unsure of what lie in wait. As a result, they had only moved a few more feet forward, putting them around ten yards away. She looked to Logan, apparently coming to the same conclusion as he regarding the diversion.
He shook his head. No, he signaled. Wait for backup.
Not enough time, she motioned. One more peek around the corner, followed by a blast of gunfire, and she launched herself down the hallway. Logan immediately followed suit as the blades embedded in his arms burst through the skin of his hands. He watched as Rogue rolled, surprising the men for a moment, but they were too well organized. She was only able to disable two before taking a spray of bullets to the chest.
Logan roared, drawing the attention of the remaining three. The first went down in a heap after blades entered his heart and tore through the chest wall under his arm. The second actually managed to get a shot off, but it harmlessly went into the floor before he followed his comrade in death.
The final armed guard was smart. He had remained in formation, not allowing himself to get bunched with the others and easy to reach. Logan watched as he lifted the weapon and while he saw the muzzle flashes, the sound from the gun didn’t register. Weird.
He felt himself fall, his cheek striking the floor violently. The white flash of pain got his attention and he opened his eyes. Rogue was only a step away, so he dragged himself to her, attempting to protect her body with his own. As he got to her, so did the asshole that had shot him. Logan turned his eyes up, snarling in pain and anger. The son of a bitch was too far away to reach. As the soldier lifted the gun to fire more rounds into Rogue and himself, the bright red flash he had been waiting for finally arrived.
Now where the man had stood there was just empty hall. Logan heard voices, but didn’t acknowledge the words.
Lifting his bloody hand he turned Rogue’s face so he could see it. She was unconscious, but breathing. The wounds were probably beginning to heal deep down, but he knew it took longer when they were severe and the bullet remained inside.
Jeanie was here now. He could hear her. She’d take care of it, he thought. A breath later the darkness took him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“They’re involved,” Jean said quietly.
Scott nodded, “They’ve been involved for years. The only difference now is that it’s physical.” He paused. “It was bound to happen eventually.” Now it was his wife’s turn to nod.
He turned from Jean, looking out the door of her office to the main medical bay where Rogue and Logan lay unconscious and sedated. Jean had needed to perform surgery to remove the bullets, and now waited for her patients to stir.
Scott sighed, “It’ll cause trouble when Gambit gets back.”
Jean moved to stand beside him, rubbing the small of his back. “It’ll work out.”
He hoped so.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Rogue opened her eyes to a very angry Logan looming over her. She smiled at him, hoping to diffuse the situation. She knew he loved it when she smiled.
It didn’t work.
She sighed before sitting and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The best way to go about this was to address it directly. “Are you mad?” She asked.
“What kind of dumbass question is that?!” He began pacing from the bed to the wall and back again. It was easier to be angry if he worked his way up to it instead of standing there looking at her. On a return trip to the bed he walked right up to her and put a hand on the bed next to each hip. Leaning in closely he said menacingly, “Marie, you’re a grown woman and you aren’t stupid. That shit you pulled tonight was reckless and it could have gotten you killed. If you ever,” he paused for emphasis, “and I do mean ever as in the rest of your natural life, do something like that again I’ll make you wish you hadn’t. Are we clear?”
He expected her to agree. She almost always did when it came to her safety. She knew he valued it more than just about anything else and she didn’t want him to worry. Instead of agreeing, however, a twinkle appeared in her eye.
“Darlin’,” she drawled out, “I’m not going to promise you I won’t do something you’re gonna get mad over later. That’s impossible. It’s not like I woke up this morning and thought, ‘What can I do to piss off Logan today?’ Shit happens. You deal with it. You and I get out of situations like that more often than I care to count, and we’ll probably still be at it in a hundred years, but you know what?”
“What?” He gritted out between clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” she said apologetically. Scooting forward, she looped her fingers through the belt loops of his blue jeans and pulled him closer. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his stubble covered chin.
He sighed with a fairly large amount of disgruntlement. “It’s all right,” he said. “I was about to do the same damn thing.”
She smiled brightly at him upon hearing this. “Great minds think alike,” she quipped.
“I’d rather you didn’t think like me, baby. It gets me in trouble more often than it keeps me out of it,” he warned.
“Yeah,” she replied, “but it’s fun.” Scrunching up her face in remembrance of the pain she had endured she continued, “Most of the time.” A short pause, “Getting shot isn’t fun.” She peeked down the paper gown she wore to examine the smooth, undamaged flesh underneath. “That’s nifty,” she said with a great deal of wonder.
“Come on, babe,” he said, smacking her lightly on the bottom. “Jeanie said we could get outta here as soon as you woke up.” He looked around, locating her clothes and moving to pick them up. As he returned and handed them over he said, “You hungry?”
She shook her head and made a face. “Not really. Mind if we go to bed?”
“Not a bit,” he replied earnestly.
They were safely within the confines of his bedroom a few minutes later. Rogue stood under the spray of the shower, washing the smell of blood and infirmary away. Through the sound of the water she heard the door open and close. As she opened her eyes, brushing the water from them, she saw Logan standing motionless outside the shower. He looked at her practically, as though ensuring everything was in order. Wanting to draw his mind away from the dark thoughts she knew to be running through it she said quietly, “Get out of those.”
He stepped closer and stood quietly while she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it over his shoulders. Next to fall were his belt and jeans. He hadn’t bothered with his boots back in the infirmary and now found himself nude. Rogue watched as his eyes cleared somewhat, but the wrinkle of concern stood firm between his brows. “It’s all right, sugar. I’m good as new.” She again felt his eyes wander over exposed flesh, confirming her words.
He stepped forward, grasping her face with his hands and looked directly into her eyes. “Tell me you love me,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t a request.
“I love you,” she replied without hesitation.
Barely a breath after saying these words she found herself pressed to the warm tiles behind her. Logan slanted his mouth hungrily over her own, his tongue delving so deeply in her mouth she thought he meant to swallow her. As she began to grow light-headed from lack of oxygen Logan dropped to his knees. His hot mouth pressed against the skin below her navel before traveling downward. Rogue watched as Logan lifted one leg, then the other, and settled them across his broad shoulders.
The warmth of his breath on her core should have been a warning, but she found herself completely unprepared for the sensation of Logan’s tongue parting her slick folds and dipping into her core. Her fingers speared through his hair, gripping tightly as she moaned his name.
Continuing his ministrations, Logan laved her over and over before he fastened his mouth on her clit. The pulling of his hair would have been painful under any other circumstance, but all it did now was bring his goal into sharper focus. He pulled the nub into his mouth, sucking until he had her so close he knew she was about to fall.
Rogue’s vocalizations were nearing a crescendo, but when Logan pulled his teeth across her most sensitive area, she screamed, coming so violently she was sure she’d blackout. Logan made it worse by continuing to lick her sensitive flesh, causing shudders to radiate through her body. As the last tremor shook her, Logan lowered her boneless body down to the floor of the shower.
It seemed miles away, but she felt the spray of the shower for a moment before the form of Logan appeared over her, blocking the fall of water. “God, you’re beautiful,” she heard him say irreverently.
Bracing his feet against the wall of the shower and resting his upper body on his elbows, he slid his arms under Rogue’s arms so his hands gripped her shoulders. Positioning his aching length at her sopping entrance he said, “Marie, look at me.” Dazed eyes focused on his own, granting him permission. In one thrust he sunk so deep into her he wasn’t sure he’d ever get out.
Rogue, having thought herself incapable of more pleasure, gasped at the sensation of Logan imbedded so far within her. Her arms came up, gripping Logan’s back, and as he began to pound into her she gripped him so tightly blood was drawn in the crescent shape of her nails.
He was close, he could feel it. His thrusts coming in short, rough movements. Looking down at her through grunts of exertion he changed his angle just enough to increase the friction and moments later felt the clench of tight walls around him. It was only then that he allowed himself to pour every ounce of fluid he had into her.
Their breaths came in ragged pants. Logan tried to lift himself off her, but found her crossed legs holding him in place. Languid kisses continued for several minutes until he regained enough strength and composure to push himself up on his arms. The movement, however, brought his pelvis tightly against hers and he watched as her eyes slid closed in pleasure.
His quickly indrawn breath caused Rogue to open her eyes, seeing that his were still dilated. “Sorry,” she whispered around a smile.
His large hand stroked the side of her face and he said, “Nothing to be sorry for, darlin’. If it feels good, you let me know.” She nodded. Somehow, God bless him, he managed to get them both toweled off and into bed.
Laying on his side, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush with the front of his body. As he nuzzled the soft hair at the nape of her neck he said drowsily, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
As she fell asleep there was a smile on her face.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lazy days were something to be cherished, and this particular day was spectacular. The sun shone hot and bright, but in the shade of a tree located in a far corner of the lawn it was simply divine.
Logan’s back was against the large trunk of a leafy tower. With one hand he held the biography he had nearly completed, and with the other he lazily stroked the underside of Rogue’s arm.
Rogue lay between his legs, her back to his front, looking back toward the mansion and the others who were out enjoying the weather. She looked down at the large hand moving along her skin and grasped it between her own. Turning the appendage over, she traced the lines of his palm with her forefinger.
This action drew Logan’s attention away from the book. “What are you thinking about?”
“I still have scars. Isn’t that strange?” She turned her head up slightly, seeking acknowledgement. Upon receiving it she returned her attention to the patterns created by tufts of hair scattered across the back of his hand. “I guess I thought they would go away.” Logan’s silence prompted her to continue, “I have one here.” Raising her arm, she showed him a jagged line along the underside of her elbow. A smile creased her face as she said, “Got it riding my bike when I was nine.”
Logan traced the old lines, wishing for not the first time that he had something to show for all the hell he’d been through in his life, because sometimes the scars were good things. They told stories. “All my scars are inside, darlin’,” he said.
“I know,” she replied. “I’ve got plenty of them there, too, you know.” She watched as he nodded in agreement.
Quiet fell as Logan returned to his book and Rogue contentedly gazed across the lawn. This remained constant until a familiar cadence of sounds drew their attention toward the house.
They noticed him nearly the moment he rounded the corner of the mansion and began to move in their direction. It was obviously not an accident he just happened to be walking to them rather than somewhere else on the grounds, leading Logan to believe a few of these idiots weren't as dense as he once believed.
It had to be obvious to the residents that he and Rogue were spending an extraordinary amount of time together, even more so than usual. There was also the matter of when he left the room for breakfast this morning a few people noticed Rogue walking out with him. A little common sense was all it required to deduce that she had spent the night. Word, it seemed, had spread quickly. It also appeared that Gambit had come home earlier than anticipated. Confrontation was inevitable.
Looking down at Rogue, he took in her face as she watched Gambit approach. She didn't try to move away from him, nor did she cease the rhythmic touches to his hand. When Gambit's feet brought him several paces from them, he stopped and looked, as though fascinated by the scene before him. His face was oddly thoughtful. Logan had been expecting anger.
Looking Logan in the eye, he nodded a greeting before turning his attention to Rogue. "Hello, love," he said.
"Hey, sugar." She smiled softly at him, remembering all the good times they had experienced in their years together. "Good trip?" She asked. A shrug was his response.
With the pleasantries now out of the way, Gambit's face grew tired and he said, "I'm sorry I was not enough." His red eyes blinked quickly, conveying the earnest truth in his words.
Rogue sat forward now, her arm grasping Logan's bent leg for leverage. Just as earnestly she replied, "It's nobody's fault this happened the way it did, Remy, especially yours." She paused, letting those words sink in. "I'm sorry, too."
In a rush of words he announced, “It was bound to happen, no?” He watched as Rogue’s head tilted to the side in question, so he elaborated. “To always be second best, coeur. It’s more than any man can bear, no matter how hard he tries.” Nodding toward Logan he said in his thick, Cajun accent, “One day the Wolverine would realize he could have you. All he had to do was take you.” He smiled sadly. “It would seem he has done just that.”
Logan decided now was the time to speak. “I want you to keep that in mind, Cajun. If you want to take this out on someone, you make sure it’s me, not her. Are we clear?”
Gambit looked long and hard at Logan before waving his hand in frustration. “It would be so easy to be angry at the two of you.” Looking into Rogue’s eyes he sighed, “But it would serve no purpose.” A wry smile that was pure Gambit tugged at the corner of his mouth, “The damage is done.” He turned away for a moment, shoving his hands deeply into the pockets of his trousers.
Logan looked to Rogue in an attempt to gauge her state of mind, but she had spent so much time around him and taken on too many of his masked expressions. Even he, at this moment, found her unreadable. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Gambit turn back to them.
“What should I do?” Gambit asked, but it wasn’t clear if he was talking to himself or to Rogue. “You’ve put me in quite the situation, love.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Remy,” Rogue said.
Gambit shouted, surprising both Logan and Rogue, “I want it to be like it was! This is his fault for touching you, damn it!”
“I’d be dead if he hadn’t,” she added, causing Gambit to grimace. “There was no other way.”
“You could have waited!” He cried in anguish. “Jean would have been there in the next minute, but that’s not how the two of you work! Trust yourselves above others! You only rely on each other! My God, do you have any idea how hard that is to live with?!”
Rogue flinched, knowing the words to be true. Firmly she whispered, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Gambit was looking at her tormented expression, and having loved her for years could not bring himself to be unaffected. “The fact remains, coeur, that’s exactly what you did.” Heaving a deep sigh from deep within himself he continued, “No use crying over spilled milk, they say. Yet here we are, doing just that.” With those words he turned on his heel and walked away.
When the man she looked after was long out of sight she sighed deeply. “That didn’t go as well as I’d hoped,” she said in a small voice.
“Could have been worse,” Logan replied.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Charles Xavier looked over the top of his reading glasses as the door to his office opened soundlessly. Gambit stepped through the threshold a moment later and with his eyes sought permission to sit. A nod of Xavier’s head granted the young man to move forward and take a seat in the comfortable chair across from the large desk situated in the middle of the room.
The two sat in the quiet for what seemed an interminable stretch, Xavier content to wait Gambit out. Finally, the Cajun could bide the silence no longer and spoke. “I need to be somewhere else for a while.”
Xavier looked on him without facial expression for several long breaths before a frown creased his aged face. He was fully aware as to why Gambit wanted to leave, but the request bothered him. It all seemed so needless, but with love that is never the case. “I wish you would reconsider.”
“I can’t,” Gambit said, shaking his head resolvedly. “Leaving would be best,” he paused briefly, “for all of us.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” Xavier offered. The look in Gambit’s eyes said no, but the words began to flow out.
“I’m sure you know more than I do.”
It had been three days since he had returned to the property, all of which were filled with the tensions of the parties involved and those who watched the scene unfold. Xavier said to the young man, “Please assume I do not.”
Gambit nodded and looked up toward the ceiling, the urge to flee permeated the room. He took a deep breath, meant to calm, and found it lacking. Instead it filled him with a resolve to speak bluntly to the older man in front of him.
“You always knew this would happen, didn’t you?” The tilt of Xavier’s head in question prompted a continuation. “They were always kept together on missions, recon assignments, hell, everything. Why?” The quiet understanding of Xavier only served to increase his frustration. “Just tell me why.”
“It was safer for them to be together. As we have discovered more times than I care to recount, it is safer for Rogue to have Logan nearby in case of an emergency.” Gambit understood this, despite his unease at the thoughts, actions, and feelings of another man being so well known to a woman he had longed to keep as his own. Xavier continued his explanation by saying, “Most of all, it is safer for Logan to have Rogue there.”
There. It finally was out in the open. What everyone thought, but no one spoke of in more than a hushed whisper, was revealed by one of the world’s most powerful telepaths.
“She’s a security blanket. That’s what you’re telling me,” Gambit said incredulously.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” Xavier leaned in to impress the earnestness of the conversation. “It is so often overlooked by so many here just how dangerous Logan and Rogue can be. Given their pasts, it is entirely understandable that they would be defensive around the general population. Despite their best efforts, and they do a remarkable job considering, they have very pronounced moments of instability. Your question is why I keep them together, and my answer is that it’s safer for them. The greater truth is that it’s safer for all of us, Remy.” He stopped speaking, allowing time for his words to sink in. The red eyed man’s brows drew together in further confusion, so Xavier finished his statement. “Without the other they become unstable, son. They would spiral out of control. Together they find strength and understanding. I know you love her, and I assure you she is grateful for that love, but the inevitability of Logan and Rogue’s union was certain. It had to be. I am sorry you suffered for it.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
~ Two weeks later ~
“What are we watching?” Rogue asked as she sat down next to Logan.
“Paint dry,” he responded ruefully.
A trill laugh pealed through the room, causing the gruff man to smirk and more than few young heads to turn their way. The paint, in this particular instance, was a new training exercise for junior members of the team, and from the look on Logan’s face it was not going according to expectations.
“Stop!” He shouted suddenly, rising from the bench that acted as a sill on a large, floor to ceiling window. “What the hell is this?! When I told you to disarm each other did you think I was talking to hear myself talk?! Do it!!” He roared.
Rogue continued smiling, watching as the kids’ eyes grew round with abject terror as Logan began to stalk amongst them. After a few frustrating attempts to demonstrate the proper technique, his eyes lifted to hers in a silent plea. Pushing away from the wall, she ambled through the crowd until she stood a single pace directly in front of Logan.
Very slowly, the blades in Logan’s arms emerged from his hands until their entire length was displayed. “What you want to do,” he announced to the amazed crowd, “is advance in such a way that your attacker is unsure how you’re going to proceed. This gives you the advantage.” Returning his attention to Rogue he drawled, “Darlin’, you may commence.”
A wicked smile stretched over her pretty face as she crouched slightly, carefully placing one foot over the other as she moved to the side. Logan smiled back, just as fiercely, and matched her step for step. A nearly imperceptible shift in the muscles of Rogue’s legs announced her intentions, and only he would have noticed, but before he could react her left leg shot out and caught him behind the knee, causing the leg to flex and unbalancing his weight. In a flash, she was behind him, arm around his neck in a secure lock.
He chuckled and stood to his full height, lifting Rogue off the floor. Wrapping her legs around his waist to position herself piggyback, she looked out over the students. “That looked easy, but it wasn’t. It takes practice.” Resting her chin on Logan’s shoulder she continued, “And that wouldn’t have worked against him, in case you were wondering. He’d have cut me up quicker than you can say ‘don’t do it’ and there’s not a lot I could have done to stop him. Lucky for you, very few baddies will be brandishing knives attached to their person.”
A chuckle from the smiling boys and girls lightened the mood further and everyone relaxed. “Now see if you can’t accomplish that against each other and we’ll work up from there,” Rogue urged.
Logan watched as the group paired off once more, this time looking a little more intent on their goal. “You’re the best sparring partner I’ve got. You know that, right?” He murmured quietly. “It wouldn’t take much for you to actually hurt me.”
“Goes both ways, sugar,” she responded with a twinkle in her eye. “Good thing we get better in a jiff, isn’t it?”
Shaking his head he said, “You have no idea, babe. No idea.”
Taking his hand and leading him back to their previous seat under the window they looked out over the grounds, each content for the first time in a long time to simply be doing what it is they were doing, and grateful for every day that passed.
Chapter End Notes:
Thank you for reading.