Rogue sighed, rolled her eyes, and gave up trying to pretend she was interested in Jubilee's current babble about the latest mall sale. New jeans blah blah, yellow boots yada yada yada. She just let the endless stream of words wash over her, aimlessly allowing her mind wonder as they crossed the grounds towards the main house. She tried to ignore the small group of mini mutants they had in tow; they seemed to be this season's accessory, now that the junior X-men had started teaching a few lessons.
It was just another ordinary day at Xavier's School for the Gifted, and a fairly boring one at that. No massive explosions of power. No new recruits. No crazed government attacks, although to be fair it was still early, not yet noon. No natural catastrophes. No evil megalomaniac inspired Brotherhood threats, although again, they were hardly morning people.
The Professor was happily discussing the sporting highlights of his latest chess game with Hank, who, more worryingly, was actually managing to feign interest in the conversation without the assistance of alcohol.
Scott was busy eye-blasting fake Wolverines in the Danger Room (and although he would never admit it to anyone, he'd checked the safety feature was enabled three times – just in case).
Jean was humming quietly to herself in the med lab, her face a mask of concentration as she drew a long shot from a glass dosage bottle, giving the needle a hefty flick before brandishing it the way of a terrified child.
Kitty was trying to pretend she wasn't watching Bobby. Bobby was trying to pretend he wasn't watching John. And Storm was doing whatever it was that she actually did when she wasn't teaching – which was anyone's guess.
All normal. All unchangingly, predictably, not-what-you-would-expect-from-a-house-full-of-mutants normal. Almost mundane really.
And Logan? Well he was in the garage fixing... he was fixing...the... whatthefuck?
Rogue's nice little ambling train of thought froze. It made a few thrashing last ditch attempts at making sense ~you're hallucinating/drunk/mad/SimonCowell/drugged/sick~ But then it spasmed a bit, and died a thankless death.
Even Jubilee shut up. There were no words for a moment like this.
It looked like Logan. It scowled like Logan. But...but...
"...Well I'm just outta school, and I'm real real cool, gotta dance like a fool, got the message that I gotta be a wild one. (*Growl*) Oooh yeah I'm a wild one..."
Rogue pressed her nose closer against the window ledge. Her eyes goggled. There was no way he knew they were watching. *No way*.
"...Gotta break it loose, gotta keep em movin wild..."
Not a chance in hell.
"...Gotta keep a swingin baby..."
In all her time at Mutant High, she never expected to see such a sight. There were...moves...and hips were grinding, oh yes they were. And then they...Rogue gulped. Surely that wasn't legal...?
"...I'm a real WILD child..."
Oh God. This was not real. This was not real. This was a figment of her Logan starved imagination. One that obviously needed some therapy.
"Uh Miss Rogue?" That was one of the younger kids. She had forgotten they were there. Hell, she'd nearly forgotten she was there. "What's he doing?"
Maybe there was a rational explanation for this. She was dead and this was hell; his trousers were too tight, he was just trying to get comfy, the poor man; he had a stone in his shoe causing him to hop around like...John Travolta.
Or not.
It took her thought process a while to wind up enough steam to answer, but eventually she got there. It was the only possible answer under the given circumstances. "I have no idea," she croaked, struck completely dumb by shock.
As far as she was aware, this had not been on her list of A-grade Logan fantasies. Motorbike? Yes. Grinding? Entirely different context, but yes. Mincing like an extra from Greece? Uh not exactly, no. Oh, look at that, is that the time? Quick, taxi for one please...
"Miss Rogue?"
Jubilee sniggered somewhere in her near vicinity. She tried to bat her away without looking, as you would do an annoying fly.
"Don't ask her," came her friend's voice from over her shoulder. "She's long gone. That, my friends, is what's known as air guitar."
"Ohhhhh," came a small chorus of tiny voices. Then another piped up.
"Isn't he supposed to be fixing Mr Summers' bike?"
At this Rogue perked up. Now here was a question she could answer. "Technically, he is. See, there's the tool box. That would be a wrench in his hand."
"...Gonna met all muh friends, gonna have ourself a ball..."
"Yeah, that's not how you use a wrench, Chica."
"...Gonna tell my friends, gonna tell em all..." at this point he paused for effect... "That I'm a wild one..." Then at the top of his voice, "...WOAH YEAH, I'm a WILD ONE..."
"Miss Rogue, why is he doing that? Is that normal?"
She had no idea how to even begin explaining.
"...Gotta break it loose, gotta keep em movin wild..."
*Really* no idea. Eyes had long gone on to screensaver mode. Brain had packed up its synapses and left the goddamned country.
"...Gotta keep a swingin baby, (grind) I'm a real WILD child..."
Oh no. The guitar solo. This couldn't get worse. Could it...?
Apparently it could.
The battered leather jacket came off and was swung over a shoulder. Then something that could only be described as (she choked back a sob) *strutting* materialised, as he stalked from one end of the garage to the other, his prowling in perfect time with the beat, until he stopped with a smooth spin and a wink at himself in the wing mirror.
"Miss Rogue. Can I learn to dance like that?"
"Not unless you want to get arrested," Jubilee managed between snorts of laughter. "Earth to Rogue? Are there any survivors in there?"
Rogue? Why did that name ring a bell? She'd think about it in a minute. Right now more important things to worry about. Like the horror movie unfolding in front of her.
The jacket was flung away with a flourish, where it landed, swinging casually on the handle bars of the bike. Head down, arm still outstretched in jacket-flinging pose, Logan gave it a smug sidelong glance, then ran two oh-so-cool hands through the spikes of his hair. Damn pleased with himself.
Momentarily distracted from the carnage, Rogue sighed happily. Man, that was a good look.
"You're drooling, Chica." That was accompanied by lots of stifled laughing.
"Huh?"
"Seriously." Snort. Giggle. "You need to close mouth before you start catching flies."
But her jaw was just another non-functioning body part. Along with her feet which tingled painfully as pins and needles completed their bid for hostile takeover. She gave them up to eventual blood loss and gangrene. It was a worthy sacrifice.
Oblivious to his onlookers, glancing back at the mirror over his shoulder, Logan cocked an eyebrow and pointed at his reflection with a come-hither wolfish grin that would have been damn sexy, had it not been for...
Oh God, she thought desperately. Not again.
"...I'm a real WILD one, an' I like a wild fun. In a world gone crazy, everythin seems hazy. I'm a WILD ONE..."
By now Jubilee was giggling mess on the floor. One of the kids was trying to imitate his strut behind her, and the others watched on with undisguised fascination. Rogue was trying her hardest to imagine the entire incident did not exist, but somehow couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away.
"...Oooh YEAH I'm a wild one..." A growl. A fist. Out popped the claws.
"...Gotta break it loose..."
Claws sliced down through the air in what was actually a pretty cool move. Well, apart from the singing. And the dancing. And the grinding. No, check that, the grinding was good. Ve-ry good. Just misunderstood.
"...Gonna keep em movin wild..."
And there was swiping again, finished off with a jump kick and a couple of punches in the air...and something that resembled a...a...my God...was that a tap dance?
"...Gonna keep-
"Logan? Are you down there?"
Rogue jumped at least three foot in the air in a move that would have made the Toad jealous. Shit, that was Scott's voice. Had the Danger Room kicked his ass already?
Logan froze, cocked his head to listen for a second, then was a blur of activity as the radio was switched off, the jacket shrugged back on, the wrench back in hand, and a cigar pulled out of his pocket.
When Scott came in, Logan was leaning over the bike with a scowl. He looked up.
"You're bikes fucked, One-eye," he said, cricking his neck to one side as if he had been hard at work.
"So fix it."
"What the hell do you think I've been tryin to do for the last hour," he growled. "Singin to it?"
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
I didn't write this, it was my...uh...evil twin sister (looks shiftily about and hastily exits room). There is no excusing it. Sorry :o) The idea sort of sidled its way smoothly into my head, then popped its claws and demanded to be written. Dammit. Oh, song is Real Wild Child and the version I know is sung by Christopher Otcasek (think Pretty Woman soundtrack, Elvis style voice and 80's power drums and you're half way there). I apologise for making Logan so...well...um...ahh what the hell – we all know he's big and manly really! *runs away*