Logan stretched and yawned widely. He scratched his back sleepily, growling at the earliness of the morning before reluctantly rolling out of the comfort of his warm bed. He blinked at the garish green light escaping through the cracks in the dark blinds. "Fucking sun," he muttered to himself. He rubbed his groggy eyes before yawning once again. Damn early starts were going to be the death of him.
He swung his legs over the edge. One foot touched ice cold floor, the other...something soft...and fluffy...
"Meeoowww"
He repressed a shudder. Where THE HELL had that *thing* come from? Fucking cat. It better not be another of Marie's ideas. And it had no right to look so put out. If it would decide to walk under his feet it was gonna get stood on. Damn thing looked like road kill anyway.
It stared at him evilly for a moment. He stared back. It had eyes just like Magneto. The miniature helmet and cape did nothing to help either. He popped the claws at it, just to see if it would jump, then frowned as he studied the ends. He needed a manicure dammit.
He muttered something to himself as he fished around for his clothes, pulling on a soft knit golfing sweater in a yellow and orange check, and then stepping unsteadily into a tight pair of silver speedos, hopping around on one leg before regaining his balance enough to reach the leopard-print wraparound skirt he kept on a special hanger in his closet. He shook it out with a frown. Damn thing needed an iron. He was gonna have to settle for the suspender belt and stockings instead, fuck it. The damn thing always made the speedos ride up into his crotch.
"You leaving already?" came a voice from the bed, still heavy with sleep.
A hint of a smile twitched the corner of his mouth. "Go back to sleep darlin."
"But I'll get cold without you."
A pale hand reached out and beckoned him closer, and he huffed a laugh to himself.
"Can't cope without me, hey?" The eyebrow was raised, but the lopsided grin remained. He put the alarm clock in the shower, then picked up a pair of demonic-bunny slippers, giving them a cautious sniff to make sure they were definitely dead, before shoving his feet into them and padding over to the sleepy form.
Humming softly to himself, he drew back the covers and leant down to give a tender kiss goodbye. "Tell the Professor I've got his cheese, will ya? I need to borrow it for a while. That ok, darlin?"
"Sure Logan. See you later."
"You can count on it Scooter." He gave the visored man a saucy wink and strode purposefully out of the room, a spring in his step.
Still humming in a soft baritone... "and I know that my heart will...gooo onnnn," he glared at any unfortunate kid to get in his way. Nobody messed with the Wolverine when he was on a Celine Dion mission. He had places to be dammit. Important things to do.
He pulled a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end and spat it out at the cat. Was the damn thing following him? He gave it a don't-mess-with-me-bub stare, just to make sure it knew where it stood, then sparked the cigar and took a contented drag. That was better. Much better.
"Near...far... where eeeever you-"
"Logan, your late."
He titled his head at the little Icepick. "Really?" Something went *snikt* and Bobby paled slightly. "'Cause the claws think different, Bub. Gottit?" He waited for the panicked nod. "Good."
"Ah Logan, there you are."
"Mornin Hank." He stubbed the cigar out on the lid of the grand piano and pocketed the rest for later. "We ready?"
"Ready to go when you are." Hank sat himself down on the stool, flexing his hairy blue fingers a few times. He paused to close his eyes, just for a moment, fleeting expressions of music and movement chasing across his face.
Logan checked behind him. Good. Icepick, Storm, Kitty, Kurt and Tinman. All the X-men. All ready. All waiting.
Then Hank began.
The curtains drew back.
His picked the microphone of the stand and...
"Staaaart....spreadin the news..." The deep sultry voice echoed out to the millions watching. "I'm leavin today..." Cat twirling round his ankles, fist clenched in dramatic I'm-pouring-my-soul-into-this-song pose. Damn heart-rendering.
"I want to *be* a part of it. New York, New Yo-ork."
The spot lights flashed on. *Dun dun da da da, Dun dun da da da.* His backers moved up behind him, he could hear the swish of their rara skirts, the thumps of their feet in perfect timing with the music as they kicked shoulder high in dazzling unison. He gave them a wicked grin over his shoulder, flashed a little leg to the audience, twanged his suspender belt and...
"......GAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
Rogue's scream could be heard in every room in the mansion. She sat bolt upright in bed, gripping the covers to her, knuckles white, eyes staring wide in shock.
She tried to remember how to breathe.
Logan didn't even bother to knock. He crashed through the door a moment later, sleepy, but wild eyed as he searched for the predator he *knew* must be in there. Something had to have made her scream like hell on earth, and he was damn well gonna KILL the bastard.
But there was nothing.
With a soft growl at the shadows, he sat down on the edge of her bed, his face a mask of concern. "You ok darlin? You have another nightmare?"
She nodded, shying sharply away from him. No wonder, poor kid. He didn't blame her. She didn't want anymore of his memories; the tests, the torture... They were his burden, they shouldn't be hers, and he damned himself to hell for putting her through them. "One of mine?" He almost didn't want to ask. "A bad one?"
"You have no idea," she croaked.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Yeah. This is a bit weird. It's like one of those things that everyone writes (or not...actually, in this case it really is probably just me!) buries on their hard disk, and never *ever* posts, with good reason. Only Laenwyn's and Aranenumenesse's dancing!Logan comments yesterday reminded me it existed. So I though whatthehell. I have no idea where in the dark recesses of my mind this bunny originally came from, I just remember I was in the middle of writing something really angsty, and I needed a surreal break from it. And it was a poorly bunny. It had serious mental health problems. And it kept muttering something about a pocket watch. Annnnyyway...this is a different (heh) take on a traditional fanfic scene.
Repeats 5 times: I must stop Logan bashing. I must stop Logan bashing. I must stop Logan bashing. I must stop Logan bashing. I must stop Logan bashing. Shame on me. *hides*
Repeats 5 times: I must stop Logan bashing. I must stop Logan bashing. I must stop Logan bashing. I must stop Logan bashing. I must stop Logan bashing. Shame on me. *hides*