“Fuck that shit!” Logan said under his breath as he slammed the tools down on the workbench. His head snapped around at the surprised gasp at the back of the room. Growling, he stalked past the boiler to glare at the occupant of the old loveseat in the corner.
“I’m sorry…I’ll leave,” Rogue said hurriedly. “This was always my quiet place, I’d hoped you wouldn’t mind.” She unfolded her legs to stand.
Silently he swore at being too distracted to sense someone had breached his sanctum. He could see there had been a tear or two shed and her usual fire was missing. Normally he would have used this opportunity to make some inroads on getting her in his bed, but he told himself he didn’t have time, it was Friday after all.
“Stay.” He sat down heavily beside her. They’d fallen back into a comfortable pattern after the kiss. She still helped him out, keeping an easy flow of conversations and he did his best to not do anything to put her off. They worked well together, and he hated to ruin the budding trust because he was pissy. “So what’s so bad you came crawlin’ back here in this corner?”
“Oh, nothing big. Almost killed someone. How about you?” She said it with a straight face as if it happened all the time.
“An electrical problem I can’t track down.” He left out the part about getting a shock and how that was never nice with his metal skeleton. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her. “Though at the moment, I’m having a hard time believing you tried to kill someone.”
Rogue sighed heavily. “More like teamwork ain’t one of my strengths, especially after absorbing someone.” That was an understatement, she’d let her old affection for Bobby get in the way of the use of his power. She’d been a little too curious at his thoughts of her and it hadn’t gone well as she absorbed more power than needed.
“Absorbing?” he asked. He’d been curious since the kiss. Her mutation wasn’t as obvious as some of the others and besides sapping his strength he hadn’t been able to discover her abilities. Or at least being a good kisser wasn’t a mutation he’d heard of.
“Skin to skin contact and I can take a person’s memories and mutation.” She felt him tense and rushed to reassure him she hadn’t invaded his privacy. “Don’t worry. All I got from you was that you like beer and fighting and have some heightened sense. It’s all faded now.” His memories had been too jumbled to make head or tails of and she’d been glad at the time that the shower was fixed so it could drown out most of the extra senses.
Logan nodded, relieved that his mission wasn’t exposed by his need to kiss a girl. They’d sent him in specifically because it was hard for telepaths to get a good read off of him. Cap would have had a good laugh if the mission were scrubbed because of a kiss.
“How does that equate to you killing someone?”
“I…” Rogue paused. Careful she reminded herself. There were certain topics he was not supposed to know about, like the X-Men. “Mr. Summers is fond of team-building exercises. This one had a set goal, and I went off script. It caused a few problems and an unexpected outcome.” She felt like she’d channeled Mr. Summers, no matter it left things sufficiently vague. “Anyway, I’m a loser who can’t fit into polite society.”
He knew he should quash the feeling to comfort her; it would only lead to complications later on. But his better judgment overrode everything else when he was around her. She brought out feelings he hadn’t thought of in a long time, made him feel soft and want things that he shouldn’t. Things that made a man put down roots and make promises he couldn’t possibly keep.
“You’re not a loser and polite society don’t give two shits about us. Playing nice to get a pat on the head or to get used…” He moved his arm to the side and released the claws. “…it’s a dead end.” He chalked up another point in her favor as she didn’t react to the appearance of his claws.
“Oh, Logan.” That searching look again and something else. Not pity or disgust, but a real look of concern. He knew from the way her head was tilted and how she leaned into him that he could have her in his bed in minutes. A few carefully chosen words, a light touch, and she would be putty in his hands.
“Fuck polite society.” Retracting the claws, he let the moment pass and they sat in silence. He was glad that she didn’t ask about the claws, the memories were fuzzy and he didn’t want to rehash any of it right now.
Ever since getting settled into his job at the school, he’d wondered what the hell he was still doing with a government group after government officials had made him into a weapon. He knew part of his reason was that it fit his particular skill set easily but he didn’t have to be connected to the government for that. If he only wanted to fight, there were plenty of opportunities all over the world to engage in that lifestyle. Logan’s real concern these days was that here at the school he might have found something elusive that he didn’t realize he was seeking.
No wonder, Rogue thought, the memories she picked up from him were so mixed up, the amount of pain involved with a procedure that put metal like that into his body just might leave some holes from the trauma. She thought about asking, but from his reaction earlier at someone knowing his past beyond other maintenance jobs and some of the stories he told of aimless drifting, she kept silent. He would open up when and if he was ready.
Thinking of what little she knew of his life, she turned to something she knew he wouldn’t mind discussing. “Being Friday, I’d ask you if you wanted to go get a drink, but -“
Logan cut her off. “Hold that thought.” He disappeared into his apartment and soon returned with two bottles. Rogue took the Molson offered her.
“Can’t on Fridays,” he said, taking a swig and sitting back down. She just might be a keeper since she thought of getting a drink with him at the end of a bad day. He quickly reminded himself that his time here was short and he shouldn’t be thinking of her in any long-term capacity.
“Hot date?” This was her chance to find out about a possible woman. What other reason could he have for being so adamant about his Friday nights? Not that she cared, it was best to keep reminding herself of that so it wouldn’t hurt as much when he didn’t care.
“No,” he snorted. “Cap’s a good-looking guy, but it’s just a drink with an old buddy. Sometimes we play poker or shoot a round of pool.”
“Oh,” her heart unexpectedly soared. “You have a friend,” she teased, leaning into him. “That’s two if you count me?”
“You count,” he said finishing off his beer. He hadn’t put too much thought into it before, but he did enjoy spending his time with her, she probably wouldn’t be out of place with Cap and him at the bar either. Glancing at her half-full bottle, he asked, “Not much of a beer drinker?”
Smiling, she handed the bottle to him and shrugged. “Not sure. Like I was going to say earlier, I’m not twenty-one yet. Plus, I never went through the rebellious teenage drinking years.”
“When do you turn twenty-one?” He was a little surprised he was usually a better judge of age. Maybe he’d gauged her older due to the fact that she acted more mature than some of her peers.
“Next Saturday.”
“Well then, stop by next Saturday evening and we’ll get you a real drink.”
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