Rogue stepped closer to the bed. A little over three months she'd been sleeping on the sofa and this was the first time she'd heard him dreaming. Dreaming was too nice of a word, he was clearly having a nightmare. Hesitating, she thought about laying back down, but it was obvious to her that he was in distress.
Wolverine was always in control. He had perfected a face of stone that rarely slipped. The only time since she'd arrived that she'd seen anything different was when she mastered a technique he'd been showing her. One corner of his mouth lifted as if he were going to smile. There was also the time he'd taken pleasure in a glass of scotch, she'd seen it in his eyes that time.
A pained sound spurred her on. "Wolverine?"
He twisted, grunting as he did so. The sheets had fallen away from his bare chest. She could see the sweat beaded up on his skin. Reaching out a hand, she gently touched his shoulder.
She thought a light touch might wake him. Maybe say his name again and he'd open his eyes. Instead, he suddenly he sprang up with a roar, a metallic snikt rang through the air, followed by a piercing pain in her chest. She looked down and realized that she was impaled on his claws. Rogue was surprised how warm they felt and how easily they slid through her flesh.
He was wide awake now, eyes riveted to his fist flush against her breast. She felt him flex and the blades slid out of her just as easily. The Wolverine's stone face crumbled. Breathing was impossible, she could only make a gurgling noise. The look of horror on his faced scared her and she wanted to comfort him with a touch.
Wolverine was frozen in place. If he called out, no one would hear, he'd purposely chose this room for that reason. If he ran for Hank, the girl would be dead before he returned. Rogue was the first person … woman, he'd let in to his life in along time. She wasn't just any woman, he was positive he'd fallen for her and now in the same instant he was going to lose her.
All the years of training and practicing, wars and fights, nothing had prepared him for this. Her life was slipping away and he was struck dumb, unable to move. The moment stretched out for an eternity.
Her hand was reaching for his face, an apology in her eyes. He grabbed hold of her wrist, locking her hand to his cheek. She'd said she could absorb other's mutations. If she could use his, take it to heal herself.
The pull started as pins and needles then turned to a searing pain. He fought back the darkness closing in; watched the stab marks, where her shirt had ripped, start to heal. Her breathing eased and he fell back on the bed letting the darkness take over.
Tears. He could smell tears, feel the wetness on his chest. Rogue was huddled next to him. When he moved, she tried to scurry away, but he still had hold of her wrist.
"You okay?" he asked as the last of the fuzziness cleared from his head. When she didn't answer, he pulled her closer.
"Y-yes," she stammered. "You're a little loud up here. Big dose of you, and everything…" she waved a hand toward her nose and ears, "is too much. How do I…"
"Pick one thing and focus on it." He understood. Until she got used to the extra sensory input it was overwhelming. "How long was I out?"
"A couple minutes, maybe."
She was shaking like a leaf. Wolverine let go of her wrist, knowing an iron grip wasn't comforting. He'd scared the hell out of her and almost killed her; he could offer more than a couple of gruff questions.
"Come here," he said, lifting an arm in invitation.
She crept closer, cuddling up next to him with her head on his shoulder. He'd told her to pick out one thing; she now realized the steady rhythm was his heart. It set a strong, constant pace and she tried to match her own to his. The Wolverine in her head was starting to calm and she tried organizing all the thoughts and memories into some pattern that could be dealt with later.
He was so warm, she molded her body to his hoping to absorb some of the heat. Pulling the covers up on them, he moved his arm to bring her in even more securely.
Rogue relaxed into him, she knew she shouldn't; he was supposed to be watching over her. In her opinion, he was doing a damn good job and she didn't want to jeopardize her place with him. She wanted to stay with him as long they would allow her to.
In the early days she'd admired Logan, not just physically, but for his ability to persevere and make the best of it. She wished she could be like that, she'd barely been able to survive on her own. She was willing to admit now, after having stared down her own death, that she loved him. Even though their time together had been short, she knew her feelings had been growing steadily since before he'd gotten her the coat.
When he looked at her, she saw him try to hide his feelings. As of late he'd been turning away from her, unwilling to hold her gaze. They never spoke of their feelings for each other, she didn't know if they needed to. Rogue thought that whatever changes this incident brought, they would soon fall into an easy routine without a discussion.
"We good?" he asked.
Nodding, she liked how he shifted so easily back into normal mode. The same tone of voice and words he used when she took a hard tumble or hit in training. His concern was casual, decreeing things be set right by sheer force of will.
"Can I…"
"Stay." It wasn't a command or a question, perhaps a request. Either way, she was unwilling to leave until he expressly told her to do so.
Wolverine sighed heavily, he'd probably made the most colossal mistake in his remembered life. He should have settled her back on the sofa. She'd too readily accepted the spot in bed next to him.
All the little signs were getting harder to ignore. He often felt her eyes on him, roaming his body or the hitch in her breathing when he touched her. Worst of all was the way her smell changed when he was nearby. It beckoned to him and he was growing tired of fighting the desire to possess her.
He'd grown weary and knew she could occupy his bed as long as she pleased. This could only lead to one thing and eventually she would become his lover. It was only a matter of time.
~*~
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