The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
This is from a challenge on the loganandmarie LJ page. The prompts were Valentine’s Day, hero’s and failures & a bucket of water. It was also an excuse to re-live Drover's bucket scene in Australia. Plus? I missed writing foof *hugs the foof* Don't ever leave me again *gives the foof a stern look*.
“GET YER LAZY ASSES OUT OF BED!”
Rogue sat bolt upright, brain fuzzy from lack of sleep, adrenaline suddenly coursing through her veins. Which really wasn't the way she wanted to wake up. It took a few moments for her thoughts to catch up with her, and even then they were a jumbled up mess of the events of yesterday. Training. A ten mile hike over rough ground. Heat exhaustion. Blisters. Fun times.
“...And I mean NOW!”
She stifled a scream of surprise as the holler was accompanied by a thump on the side of the tent. Her heart pounded with the shock. She could hear the repeated thumps as the same attack was inflicted on other tents around the circle as well.
“THIS AIN'T NO TIME FER A LIE IN!”
Lie in? Rogue checked her watch, rubbing her sticky hair away from her face and grimacing because it was hotter than hell outsi- Five frickin thirty? The man was a sadomasochist. Or a morning person.
She shuddered as she tried to decide which was worse.
Then the pacing began. She knew how silent Logan could be when he wanted to, so the stomping was definitely deliberate. She could hear the thud of each steal toe capped boot as it kicked up the dust outside.
“LISTEN UP! You got two minutes to get yerselves up an' pretty. TWO MINUTES! Anyone who aint out here an' ready to move? Carries their tent AND the tent of the person next to 'em for the rest of the day.”
Goddamn him!
Rogue fumbled her way to her knees, scraping around for her clothes and something resembling a hairbrush. Stupid training exercise! This was the worst frickin idea Mr Summers had all year. Take the younger team out, Logan. Give them some survival training, Logan. Argh!! If Scott was here right now she'd... she'd.... dammit. Probably just glare at him. But it would be one helluva glare. And she'd stick glue to the inside of his visor when he wasn't looking. He just wanted the Mansion to himself on Valentine's Day, probably so he could make some schmoozy romantic gesture to Jean, and he thought this was a brilliant way of getting the teenagers and Logan out the house in one smooth move. Smug bastard.
Ugh.
“I ain't waiting around fer ya, Icecream, GET ON WITH IT! That's not a wound, it's a scratch. And UNTIL YOUR HAND FALLS OFF? IT STAYS A SCRATCH! GOTTIT?”
Rogue cringed inwardly. Poor Bobby.
“Yer trainin' to be superheroes, not failures. When the shit goes down Pryde, you won't get time to put on your fuckin' makeup THROW THAT SHIT AWAY NOW!”
For crying out loud! Rogue haphazardly shoved her stuff into her pack, rolling up the makeshift bed as best she could. Practically tripping over Jubes, who was halfway through the same panicked process, she fumbled her way outside into the dusty brightness... and breathed a sigh of momentary relief. For the time being, at least, Logan was out of eyesight. Probably yelling at someone else, but as long as it wasn't her, she didn't care. Out here it was survival of the fittest.
She crept round the back of the tents, inhaling the freshwater scent of the lake that had been the reason behind their choice of camp. She waded her aching feet into the blissful coolness, letting the water lap between her toes. Her muscles were so stiff she wondered if she'd ever move properly again. And as for any potential future plans that involved staying anywhere without wireless and a plug for her hair-dryer? Mutant superhero, or no mutant superhero, she'd rather chew off her own foot. This whole frickin thing was a nightmare from the start, and they still had two goddamn days to go. Two whole days!
There was no way she was going to survive that long.
She splashed some of the cold water on her face, running her hands through her hair, grimacing at the caked on dusty gunkiness. If Jubes didn't hurry up she'd be the one to... to...
Her thoughts stumbled to a halt.
She looked. Blinked. Looked again. Wondered if she was still dreaming. Blinked some more. Then decided dream or not, there was nothing she could do about it, so she might as well just stare. Because over there, not ten meters away on the side of the bank, stood Logan. Shirtless, barefoot, his worn jeans half un-done and hanging loosely around his hips in a way that was nearly indecent. Soaping himself up.
Guh.
Good dream. Very good dream.
She watched as he scrubbed. Watched as his hands worked vigorously over his chest, under his arms, round the back of his neck... Watched as he lifted a bucket of water over his head, wondering at the way the veins on his forearms bulged as he poured it over himself. Watched in fascination as the water ran over the hard muscles of his abdomen, clinging to the dark hair, dripping down in rivulets beneath the thick denim of his jeans. Bucket dangling from his fingers, he rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his hair roughly with a hand, wiping his face on the back of his arm. Then he picked up his boots and...
Oh crap.
Rogue froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights as he began walking straight towards her. To be fair, even if she could have remembered how to move, she probably wouldn't have. He was still dripping wet. She just stood where she was and stared stupidly.
He raised an eyebrow. “You good to go?”
Eyes wide, she managed a nod.
“Good.”
When she didn't respond, he added, “Close yer mouth, kid,” with something resembling a smirk. Then headed back towards the camp.
Rogue blinked again. Tried to fight off the grin that was beginning to crawl across her face. And failed.
Christ, if that was part of the survival training? She was never gonna make it out alive.
But the two remaining days were just about to get a lot more interesting.