Logan glared down at the institute grounds from his window, slowly smoking down his cigar. Stupid mission, what a waste. Why did they even need him there? There was no fight, no FoH bastards, hell not even slimy Toad had bothered to show up to mess with a skinny 11 old kid who could change the TV channel by blinking his eyes…oh, and he never sleeps. What kind of power was that…super insomnia? That seriously had to be the lamest mutation he’d ever heard of. Maybe his parents just wanted a decent night’s sleep or to keep the damn set on ESPN instead of Nick Toons for once when they left him behind at the state fair.
Why’d Storm even dragged him along? Wolverine had been salivating for a good fight for a few weeks; this life of enforced domesticity didn’t sit well with him for long periods of time. He scrubbed one hand over his face and snorted his disgust. He was going to have to come up with something to entertain himself with b/c late night sessions in the DR just weren’t cutting the tension anymore and being cooped up in Mutant High was working his last nerve. The fight scene wouldn’t start up again for months and semester break was 7 weeks away.
Fuck, how did I ever get roped into being a teacher for fuck’s sake?
It was bad enough he had to tone down his training regimen because Storm and Chuck through he was being too hard on the kids, then his classes started turning into a daily soap opera with all the teenage mutant angst roiling through the rooms. Scott liked Jean but she’s clueless and still with that Duncan meathead, Kurt was trying his damndest to impress Kitty who was freaked out by his blue fur, tail, and penchant for literally popping out of nowhere unexpectedly and usually hanging upside down from said freaky tail, Boom Boom alternated between here and the Brotherhood shack generally driving everyone fucking nuts with the explosions she used to punctuate every sarcastic remark. Then there was Rogue-oh-i'm-so-Goth-do-i-have-enough-black-eyeliner-on-or-do-i-need-to-get-a-sharpie. The original Miss Bitter Britches. She even out grumped Logan most days, especially in the morning. Why the fuck did she stick around if she hated all of them so much?
Oh yeh, because she had nowhere else to go.
Sucks, don’t it? Logan thought to himself.
Ok, he had places to go, but nothing to do once he got there except the same boring shit he’d done for the last 15 years: eat, fight, fuck, over and over. Nothing new, same shit, different town. At least here he got to go on missions…well, REAL missions…once in a while and tangle with some real baddies who actually lasted more than 20 seconds against him. And the free grub and roof over his head weren’t bad. Just annoyingly comfy, like he was getting domesticated and Wolverine in him chafed at that idea. It felt like the luxury and ease of this privileged life Chuck had dropped him in more and more often tightened around his neck like a choke collar on a surly dog, cutting off his ability to breath and reminding him he wasn’t free, never had been even before he got here.
Logan took another draw of his cigar and just for spite tipped the ash onto the carpet of his room and ground it in with his boot.
What he wouldn’t do for some fucking action, a little excitement, hell he’d even settle for Buckethead showing up right now to play twister with his bones. Goddamn, he was bored.
Just when he was about to toss the last stub of his stogie down to the driveway and look for another fucking hockey game to watch he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, along the wall of the mansion. Someone’s breaking curfew he sighed as he watched two feet, followed by two legs slide backwards out a window two floors down and to his right. The sneak lowered themselves from the window, dangling from their fingertips from the second story window before dropping quietly to the ground. The half moon slunk from behind a cloud and he caught a flash of white on the rule breaker’s head.
The Rogue. Long sigh. Of course.
She crouched down, looked right then left, slid a few paces into the driveway then turned to look back at the mansion just as Logan slipped back from his window and out of her sight. Satisfied she hadn’t been seen she turned, slung a heavy backpack over her shoulder and took off at a quick run towards the forest bordering the western edge of the grounds.
Running again? Shit, this is getting old.
Logan briefly contemplated waking Storm or Chuck to let them know she was making another break then dismissed it. Although Storm was better at the whole “You’re wanted here, we’re your friends Rogue” bullshit, Logan wasn’t interested in handling her with kid gloves in his current mood. She was a stubborn little bitch who needed some rough handling sometimes; knock some sense into that spooky little head of hers. He’d track her down, drag her back, then stick her in the Danger Room for a few hours so she could work out whatever shit was sticking in her craw this time. Every time she got mad she took off, usually not too far, but sometimes she managed to get gone for a few days, long enough to work Chuck up into a nice lather of worry before she showed up again, acting like nothing had happened and snarling when she got grounded…which usually made her sneak out again just to spite everyone.
So he followed her. Damn, she’s hauling ass he thought after the second mile passed under his jogging feet as he tracked her through the woods. Something must’ve really gotten her good and pissed off if she was running this hard. Suddenly, her scent took a sharp left turn and he followed it. After another mile he could tell she’d slowed. He did also, slipping into his innate stealth mode to creep up so she couldn’t hear him and take off again. After another fifteen minutes he heard her. She’d stopped in a clearing where the trees thinned around a stream that fed to the river that eventually lead to the town’s reservoir. She’d stopped running.
Oh for fuck’s sake he groaned inwardly at the sight of her about 20 yards away, sitting on a rock with her back to him, sipping from a pint of whiskey. She wasn’t running, she’d fucking snuck out to get drunk. Logan turned to go back to the mansion, satisfied he’d see her in the morning, most likely hungover. He stopped when he heard music. Turning, he saw Rogue poking at one of those little stereos you plug into your mp3 player she pulled from her backpack. She was scrawling through something that sounded like cats being strangled with piano wire before settling on one song and cracking the volume up. She started nodding to the music and just to round out the rule breaking she lit a cigarette.
He rolled his eyes. Same rebellion, different teenagers. Ain’t’ nothing original anymore?
She stood up and stretched, rolled her neck and hips in time with the music. She was wearing dark grey jeans with the rips at the knees and that purple wrap top she always seemed to wear like damn armor, even though it showed plenty of the dangerous bare skin of her shoulders, almost like she taunted the world with a glimpse of poison, giving it the middle finger with every inch of white deadly skin no one in their right mind would touch.
Logan leaned forward listening; he’d never heard music like this. It wasn’t rock, country, or any other thing he’d heard before. It seemed to fit her, just exactly. Quiet at first, just drums and a raspy voice with nasty edge to it.
Watching all the insects march along
Seem to know just right where they belong
She raised her arms over her head, drawing patterns in the air with the trail of smoke from her cigarette. She turned as she danced and he slid into the shadow of the trees to watch from the dark, slitting his eyes to watch her. Her face scrunched a bit as she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself at the next lines.
Smears of face reflecting in the chrome
Hiding in the crowd I'm all alone
Her head dropped, hands balled into fists at her sides, before she spun hard and kicked at a rock at the stream’s edge, sending it splashing into the water. Her arms tensed and bent at the elbows as she pulled them to her fast and swung her hips to the side hard as the hard edged voice from the stereo moaned again. She kicked more rocks, viciously, almost stumbling as she skirted the edge of the stream, sliding on the edge, the rattle of stones a counterpoint to the slow winding up of the singer’s razor sharp voice.
No one's heard a single word I've said
They don’t sound as good outside my head
Hands clutched at her hair and she rocked backwards and forwards at the waist, feet moving in an angry circle, stamping, sliding, like she was fighting with herself.
It looks as though the past is here to stay
I've become a million miles away...
Arms flung out, gloved fingers spread wide, face tilted up at the half moon and smudge of stars, eyes still closed, face still twisted with something that looked like pain and something more like rage. Logan crouched down in the shadows to watch her more closely. Her lips pulled back and she hissed along with the razor sharp voice gasping from the speakers, pure vitriol hung in the air, her voice sliding up his spine raggedly.
Why do you get all the love in the world?
Why do you get all the love in the world?
She spun in place, brought the cigarette to her lips for one last long slow drag before she flicked it into the water with what seemed like contempt then spun, her back to him again, and swung her hips as her hands came up and she rolled her bared shoulders. Logan held his breath as he watched the wrap top open and drop from her, many more inches of deadly skin now exposed in the cropped black tank top that had been hiding.
She wrapped gloved hands around a white, slim midsection, sliding them up in a solo embrace, fingers digging into her own ribs hard.
All the jagged edges disappear
Colors all look brighter when you're near
Her arms unwound and seemed to move with snakelike sinuousness through the air as she slowly circled them in around her bared torso, spiraling them inward like she was cradling something precious then out again, casting it away like it burned.
The stars are all a fire in the sky
Sometimes I get so lonely I could...
The pint appeared from her back pocket and she tipped it up and swallowed as she moved, hips winding and unwinding in torturously slow sways as the voice started calling insistently over and over, the music winding up with an electronic surge, spewing out venom and yearning as Rogue danced by herself.
Why do you get all the love in the world?
Why do you get all the love in the world?
Why do you get all the love in the world?
When the song was over she flopped back down on the grass by the stream, bent one leg at the knee and kicked the other one over it, bobbing it up and down as another song blared forth, grating, electric, angry. She pulled her knapsack under her head and lay against it as she took another sip of the pint. Logan was about to stand up and leave, his head full of the tortured of image Rogue dancing angrily by herself in the woods, when he saw her fish into her cleavage and bring out a rather skinny smoke. As she lit it then inhaled and held it for a long few second he knew that wasn’t a cigarette and his tolerance for her solo shenanigans reached its limit.
She was still bobbing one combat booted foot over her crooked knee when he reached down and plucked the joint from her hand. Her eyes snapped open, took in the scowling face of Wolverine upside down over her, and snarked in her raspy Southern drawl, “Come to spoil my good time?” Her dark purple lined eyes opened wide as she watched Logan take a long draw from the joint, hold it for an impressively long time, then leisurely blow smoke rings out. Then he handed the jay back to her.
He folded his legs under him and plopped down next to her head.
“Kid, don’t let me catch you doing this shit again,” he growled.
She raised her head up a few inches, took a long drag from the jay, held it for a bit, then blew a long lazy stream up at his face.
“You won’t catch me next time.” He nodded brusquely, then stuck his hand out for the joint. They passed the next two songs slowly polishing off what Logan noted was a particularly pungent strain of Purple Kush, before the spliff was down to only an ember. Rogue took it from him one last time, sat up, grinned in his face, stuck out her tongue and popped the roach onto it and ate it. He snorted in amusement.
“Why aren’t you busting my ass for sneaking out?” She stood up to fish the pint out of her back pocket to take a slug.
“How I about I bust you for drinking and getting high?” he growled at the casual way she smirked at him.
“Because you just got high too…aaaaaaand…” she held out the pint to him, tipping it back and forth, her eyes narrowed.
He snorted again and took the pint from her for a swig, then dropped it on the ground next to her backpack. “Why you out here? Besides the obvious getting fucked up?”
Rogue looked at him shrewdly for a moment before she shrugged, her bare shoulders rising and falling. She wrapped her arms around her waist, the first self-conscious move he’d seen her make since she’d gotten to the Institute. “I just wanted to get away from them,” and she jerked her head in the general direction of the mansion. “They tip-toe around me, it’s pissing me off.”
“Know how that is,” he grunted.
“What would you know what it’s like?” she spat, leaning over to pick up the pint.
He snarled and shot out 27 inches of adamantium in her face. She just laughed and pushed away the blunt side of his claws. “Yer not that scary.”
His eyebrow shot up as she pulled the claws back. “Oh, and you are?” he drawled sarcastically.
“To them I am,” she huffed, blowing a lock of platinum away from her eye. She plopped back down on the ground next to him, legs crossed Indian-style. “I scare myself too.” She rubbed her gloved hands up and down and bare arms and reached for the purple wrap top she’d discarded. He reached out and closed his bare hand over her leather clad one.
“You cold, kid?”
Rogue tugged against his grip. “No, I just don’t think it’s smart for me to have this much skin-“
“Forget it, I ain’t scared of you.” He dropped her hand, snagged to purple cloth and stuffed it in the bookbag. She shrugged, laid back with her head on the bag again and tipped the pint to her mouth before she handed it back to him to share.
They sat there for a while, listening to the next song. He lit another cigar and she another cigarette. He refrained from getting on her ass about lung cancer since she clearly had more immediate problems to worry about. Another song started and she sighed, muttering “This should be the Institute’s fight song,” foot bobbing in time with the pounding drums and guitars that wailed from the stereo, Wolverine slitting his eyes against the smoke and listening and watching her.
You're keeping in step
In the line
Got your chin held high and you feel just fine
Because you do
What you're told
But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold
Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?
What if this whole crusade's
A charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid
For the blood
On which we dine
Justified in the name of the holy and the divine
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you wanna change it?
So naive
I keep holding on to what I want to believe
I can see
But I keep holding on and on and on and on
Just how deep do you you believe?
Will you stay down on your knees?
Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?
Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?
So naive
I keep holding on to what I want to believe
I can see
But I keep holding on and on and on and on
Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?
After the song was over, Logan handed back what was left of the pint and left her in the clearing, listening to songs about hopelessness and fury. That girl was fucked up. And a lot smarter than he’d realized.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
Four chapters, I've already gotten them all plotted out, just need a day or so to write each one, so this should be finished within the week.
Set in X-men: Evolution universe. I've just always found the Goth!Rogue and Logan with a crooked nose look and their voices from the series really enticing and hot.
Warning: non-con, drugs.
NC-17 rating justified in last and 4th chapter.
Set in X-men: Evolution universe. I've just always found the Goth!Rogue and Logan with a crooked nose look and their voices from the series really enticing and hot.
Warning: non-con, drugs.
NC-17 rating justified in last and 4th chapter.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Logan is frustrated at Institute life and hunts down a rule-breaker b/c he's bored.
First chapter doesn't contain any of the bad stuff that the rating and warning reflect, it'll get nastier with each chapter. P.S. I am a comment whore, feed the beast!!!
First chapter doesn't contain any of the bad stuff that the rating and warning reflect, it'll get nastier with each chapter. P.S. I am a comment whore, feed the beast!!!
Chapter End Notes:
Songs:
All the Love in the World
The Hand that Feeds
Both by Nine Inch Nails, the sexiest band ever
All the Love in the World
The Hand that Feeds
Both by Nine Inch Nails, the sexiest band ever