Rating: Possibly R/NC17 for sex and occasional rough language.
Archive: WR list archive and X-Men Movie Fanfic Archive, all others ask
first. (The answer will no doubt be yes — I'm easy! — but I like to know
who's got my stuff!)
Classification: Character development leading to eventual smut. I'm sure
angst and foof will appear at appropriate points — I tend to waver
indecisively at times.
Series: Following "Drunken Musings," "Settling In," and "Practice Makes Perfect." Also follows "Just Between Friends."
Disclaimer: Lots of corporations like Fox and Marvel, and people like Bryan
Singer and Hugh Jackman and Anna Paquin, hold more rights in the characters and
settings I'm playing with than I do. But I'm even more broke than Marvel, so I'm
not worth the time and trouble of suing... The only "profit" I'm
getting out of this is getting the demons out of my head without resorting to my
family's traditional substance abuse, serial marriages and/or self-mutilation...
Feedback: Questions, comments and snide remarks directed to <FyrDrakken@juno.com>
will receive guaranteed responses. As an Elitist Fic Bitch in good
standing, I welcome constructive criticism -- if there's a
problem in something I've written I *really* want to know about it so I can fix
it!
Thanks: To all those whose feedback on my four prior stories (and repeated
requests and demands for sequels!) have given the incentive to continue to
lose sleep slaving over an overheating laptop! (I'm sorry that I'm probably
never going to be finishing this story.) And thanks again to jenn for her
betaing, which I miss...
Note:
[ ] = Thoughts
* * = Emphasis
:: :: = Telepathy
/ / = Rogue reliving a bit of borrowed memory
( ) = Translations or parenthetical remarks
* * *
"Ensuing Complications"
by FyrDrakken
* * *
[The thing about secrets,] Kurt mused, dangling from his ceiling perch by
his tail, [is that sometimes they need to *stay* secret. You can't
go talking about them to just anyone. Even when you want to.
Even when it bothers you. Even when it's to someone who really should
know.] Curling up into a ball of midair misery, he sighed. [*Especially*
when it's to someone who really should know. Because it wouldn't make
him happy to know and it wouldn't make *her* happy for him to know — and
I want them both to be happy.] Another sigh. [And so I say nothing.]
It wasn't a conclusion that pleased him. Kurt genuinely believed that
confession *was* good for the soul. Perhaps not so good for the body
— especially when said confession might well induce the hearer to shift into
a massively imposing organic metal form and beat a formerly good friend comatose
— but getting things out into the open and dealing with them was more to
his nature than curling up around them and letting them fester in silence.
Except that this wasn't just his secret — it was Kitty's, too. And
it had been a joint decision not to tell. Because it had only been
an impulse, a lapse of reason, a brief aberration that had led to Kitty spending
the previous night with Kurt. It hadn't been anything important or
meaningful. Certainly nothing worth jeopardizing her relationship with
Peter over.
[Of *course* it wasn't important. It was with *me*, after all.]
Just fuzzy little Nightcrawler, funny and playful and maybe even charming
but nowhere near to being a — what was the term Bobby used? Ah — "babe
magnet." Certainly not much compared to Peter, who was not only good-looking
— in a *normal*, "conventionally handsome" way — but large and muscled and
imposing, yet managed to counterbalance that with a kind quiet nature and
even a fair degree of artistic ability. Peter was a rock, strong and
solid and immovably *there*, stalwart and dependable. By comparison
Kurt seemed flighty, insubstantial, almost *shallow* — nothing but airy movement
and flickering shadow.
And Kitty wasn't just smart, she was an actual *genius* — far too intelligent
not to have accurately compared the pair of them. Not infallible by
any means — as proven by her unjustifiable fears of losing Peter to some
hypothetical and improbable "more mature and desirable" woman, and by her
willingness to accept Kurt's shy advances — but fully capable of assessing
the matter in the clear light of day and reaching a well-thought-out conclusion.
So her conclusion had been that Peter was better off never knowing what had
happened in his absence, and that the previous night might as well never
have happened.
Fair enough.
Kurt was familiar with the phrase "pity fuck." Unsurprisingly, he had
first heard it used by Jubilee (though thankfully not referring to him personally).
Kitty had a kind heart — he had already known that, well before she proved
it to him the previous night. But she also loved Peter — he knew that
as well. And kindness only goes so far.
If Peter found out what had happened, he would be upset. Beyond upset.
But after the initial explosion, once the shock had worn off and the debris
had settled, he would accept things. He could forgive Kurt eventually
— they might well even remain friends.
But he would not forget Kitty's complicity in the matter. He would
probably forgive her, eventually — perhaps even remain friends with her as
well.
But their relationship as lovers would be over.
Reviewing the situation in his mind, Kurt found nothing to contradict his
conclusion: Kitty had the most to lose if their secret became public knowledge,
and so it should be her decision on the matter that held.
Which meant that Kurt had a nasty little guilty secret that he couldn't free himself of in good conscience.
For a young man raised in a tradition of confession, penance, and absolution, it felt unnatural.
Or it should have. Except that Kurt actually had a bit of experience
in keeping guilty secrets. There were one or two things from his past
that still liked to gnaw at him sometimes late at night, even with the scene
of the crime an ocean away.
So he knew that if you had to, if the people you wanted to confess to weren't
available, if the absolution you craved was out of reach, then you could
cram that little secret into a ball and lock it away and go about your day-to-day
life as though it didn't exist.
As though it had never happened.
And if sometimes it came back to haunt you, late at night — well then, that
was your penance. And you wrestled with the problem by yourself, in
the long hours before dawn — but in the daylight with your friends and acquaintances
around you, you said nothing of it.
Because it might as well have never happened, in the light of day.
And you smiled, because you were with your friends, and you joked, because
that was the kind of person you were. Because life needed balance,
and there were tears enough in the world without needing to go out looking
for them, but joy was something that you needed to make and take for yourself.
For yourself and for your friends.
And because your friends loved each other, and because that joy was sometimes
fragile in this world, you did what you could to help them keep it.
Even if it kept you up late at night.
But it wasn't late at night now — it was early afternoon, and the door was opening and Peter was coming in.
"Ah! I see you survived a weekend camping with the Wolverine!" [That's
it, practice the "w" sound so it doesn't come out sounding so much like a
"v" — who knows, enough time and I may be able to actually *sound* like an
American...] Thinking about the accent was infinitely safer than other things
to be thinking right now.
Peter sighed, dropping his pack on the floor and collapsing into his desk
chair. "Da. I never want to see a forest again."
Kurt laughed. Not *too* hard — just appreciative of the mild joke.
Didn't want to sound like anything was wrong, after all.
"Or a so-called ‘trail' that only exists in the wild imaginings of our so-called
‘teacher.' Or a ‘fire' that will not *light*. Or even a tree."
That rated another chuckle — really closer to a snicker.
"Do not laugh, my friend. Your time is coming." An unsubtle reminder
that the survival training had been made mandatory for all would-be X-Men
— and strongly recommended for all the students, whether they planned to
go mainstream after graduation or not.
The laughter stopped.
"Not that *you* need to worry that much. He *likes* *you*," Peter groused.
Which made it sound as though Logan disliked Peter, which Kurt knew to be
untrue. Instead of pointing this out, he merely remarked, "So you think
he'll ‘go easy' on me, then?" Pause. "Like he does when he's
teaching ‘self-defense'?"
It was a telling blow. Peter winced in sympathy. Logan believed
in pushing his students to find the limits of their physical abilities.
Kurt had diabolically fast reflexes and appropriately inhuman agility — to
say nothing of the struggle it had been for him to suppress the instinct
to teleport out of the way during the initial "no powers allowed" basic combat
training. Logan had therefore pushed Kurt *hard*.
A sigh. "He'll probably make me learn to skin rabbits with my teeth or something. Sleep in a tree. Eat bugs."
Peter shrugged philosophically. "Why should you be treated any better than the rest of us?"
The laughter in response was neither feigned nor forced.
* * *
"You should learn when to go
You should learn how to say no"
— "Violet," by Hole
* * *
Marie let herself into her shared room, with a heartfelt sigh of relief. With any luck, she'd be safe from Remy here...
[And if not, or if Gumbo decides to lurk in the hall waiting for you to come
out — well, there's a perfectly good ledge outside the window, and you know
I'll let you into *my* room any time you want,] her Subliminal Logan noted.
She smiled a little, at comment and accompanying mental image both, setting
her textbooks down on her desk.
"And what have *you* got to sigh about?" Jubilee grouched from her own desk.
The calculus textbook open in front of her was explanation enough for her
uncharacteristically sour mood — Jubes had problems with numbers due to a
touch of dyslexia (or rather the numeric equivalent, whatever *that* was
called), and math classes were a struggle.
"Being hunted," Rogue answered succinctly.
"Ah — avoiding the Cajun?" Kitty inquired from her bed sympathetically.
"I don't see *what* your problem is! He's gorgeous, he's available,
and he's *hot* for you! So what's the big deal?" Jubes by contrast
clearly had no sympathy whatsoever on this topic.
Marie frowned. "I'm just not interested in Remy."
"HAH!" was Jubes' counter, echoed more politely by Kitty's raised eyebrow.
"I've *seen* you two together — he makes you giggle and blush *way* too much
for ‘not interested'!"
Rogue sighed a little, Subliminal Wolvie growling internally at the essential
truth of the statement. "Okay, I think he's cute and all that — but
I don't want him," she said, as much for her inner Logan's benefit as for
her roommates.
"Because he's not Logan," Kitty said softly.
Marie nodded silently, sighing again.
"Well, he's *not* Logan — but Logan doesn't want you and Remy *does*, so
it's past time for you to *get over* Wolvie and move on. And you've
got someone really prime to move on *to* — so just get *on* with it, already,
and quit moping over the wrong guy! Hot or not, he's dumb enough to
have been chasing after *Jean* for the past couple of years instead of you,
so he's not worth it anyway." Jubi slammed her book shut in frustration
— whether with her homework or with Marie's recalcitrance being open to speculation.
Rogue clenched her jaw shut against her own impulse and Subliminal Logan's
urgings to, [Tell them they're wrong! Tell them I love you! Tell
them Remy can take those bullshit pickup lines of his and shove ‘em up his
ass!]
Pausing to remind herself why that wasn't a very good idea, irritation with
her closest female friends be damned, she fell back on Ye Olde Standby Excuse
— after all, it had worked on Bobby. "It doesn't matter whether I mope
or not — no one can get close to me, cute or not, without risking a few weeks
down in the Medlab."
[Except me,] Subliminal Wolvie murmured smugly, before adding, [and if *you* don't put them there, then *I* will!]
Except that Jubi and Kitty were both frowning at her. "That isn't fair,
Rogue," Kitty said. "For one thing, you haven't put anybody in a coma
in years," refusing to let Rogue interrupt with the mendacious claim that
she hadn't let anyone close enough to do boyfriend-type-stuff with her in
all of that time, "and in any case that should be *his* choice, if he wants
to take the chance."
Jubes nodded in agreement. "If he's got the guts to risk it, don't be turning him down just because you're chickenshit."
Rogue glared. [Chickenshit? *Chickenshit*!? Goddammit, Marie, *tell*
them!] her Inner Logan raged. She quieted him by pulling up the memory
of the last telephone conversation with her mother in which she had dared
to raise the matter of her — maybe, possibly, just as something to consider
as an option — staying on at Xavier's if the hypothetical time came when
she could control her gift...
The frustration at the situation a year's worth of layered deceptions was
tangling her in had to be suppressed in front of these two — but anger at
her friends' apparent betrayal was legitimate under the circumstances.
"What about *my* choice? Don't *I* get an option in this?"
"Yeah — if you were making the right decision! But you're *not*, so *we've* gotta step in for you!"
Kitty frowned at Jubilee, stepping between them in her customary role of
peacemaker. "It's not so much that we want to run your life for you
— but maybe you're not doing things for the right reasons?"
"And what *would* be the right reasons?" Rogue challenged. [Dammit, how am I gonna convince them?]
"Well, if you weren't really interested in Remy — "
"HAH!" Jubilee interjected.
" — or maybe if Logan really *were* interested — "
" — which he's NOT!"
Marie clenched her jaw against the protests.
" — or it were someone who didn't *know* about your gift — "
"But he doesn't!" Rogue leaped for the first option that seemed defensible.
"Not really, he's never seen what I can do, he doesn't really believe it's
that dangerous..."
Jubi shrugged fatalistically. "Well, the first time he tries to steal a kiss he'll learn better, won't he?"
Marie's eyes widened.
Kitty added, "No offense, but a few weeks in a coma isn't *that* bad — if
he wakes up okay afterwards, I mean. And then he'd know better — and
then you'd have him in your head, see, just like Logan, so then it'd be okay
and everything would work out..."
[WHOA! *Bad* idea! I don't want *him* in your head, too!]
Backed by Subliminal Wolvie's territorial temper tantrum, Rogue's answer
was perhaps a bit more forceful than necessary. "I don't *want* him
in my head!" A pause at her friends' disbelief, and she added, "I've
got enough people in here already — as if Logan's nightmares and Erik's concentration
camp memories weren't bad enough! Too many, and there won't be any
room left for *me*...," she finished more softly.
Kitty was silenced, but Jubes wasn't giving up yet. "You've said often
enough that you know every bit of Logan because of that piece of him in your
head — so you could get to know Remy that well, and then maybe you'd want
*him* as well, or instead, or whatever..."
[That's what I'm afraid of,] Subliminal Logan whispered uneasily.
"Or maybe I'd learn about how he's just trying to get into my pants because
he loves a challenge, or find out just how many notches he's carved on his
bedpost before me, and won't be interested anymore." As an attempt
to simultaneously quell Jubilee and soothe Inner Logan, it succeeded at neither.
Subliminal Wolverine whined unhappily at the reference to carving notches,
remembering his own full and eventful sex life prior to their relationship,
while Jubes refused to be silenced.
"Then at least you'll *know* you don't want him, instead of this crap about
how you don't want him even though you light up whenever he talks to you."
With a sardonic flick of her fingers, Jubes added a few sparkles as a visual
aid on "light up."
[Shit. Jubes is being logical. Shit, shit, shit. I don't like this one bit,] Logan warned.
[You and me both, sugar,] Marie thought. [So why the hell am I letting
her use logic? This is *my* life, I can just tell her to butt out!]
"So you're saying I should just — just *touch* him? Deliberately put
him in a coma, risk his life if I misjudge and hang on too long, and *definitely*
piss off the Professor and Mr. Summers and Jean, and probably Storm and Logan
and Hank as well, just to satisfy my *curiosity*? Just to see if he's
planning to drop me like a hot rock if I let him try to *do* me, or if he's
got any nasty little secrets I don't like — just to save myself the trouble
of actually dating him to find out? You really think this is a *good
idea*?"
Amazingly enough, she actually managed to shut Jubilee up for a minute.
Unfortunately, Kitty picked up on the worst possible statement borne to light
by the spontaneous upwelling of frustration. "So it looks like you'll
have to date him to find out, after all. It really *is* the safest
way."
Jubilee whooped gleefully at Rogue's speechless glare. "She's got ya
there, Rogie! Now you gotta either date Remy, or touch him!"
Unable to express her ire — at least not *here* — Marie angrily grabbed her
history textbook. Fighting had proven a hopeless response — time to
resort to flight. Refuge — with the one person under this roof who
would fully understand her feelings at being thrown at the Cajun. Not
dignifying her roommates' assertion with a reply, she stalked out.
* * *
"well hey do you do judo when they surround you
a little mental yoga will they disappear
it's grim but never dubious as motives go
no matter what it takes she promises a show"
— "Purple People," by Tori Amos
* * *
It was very lucky for Remy that he *wasn't* lurking anywhere in the halls
between her room and Logan's — she was *so* not in the mood to deal with
him right now. [Course, if you told him to get the fuck out of your way —
and then maybe smacked him in the face with a big heavy book — it *might*
convince him you weren't interested,] Subliminal Logan suggested with a more
than academic interest in the matter.
The thought of smacking Gambit silly with her history text was not only amusing
but almost calming. She imagined the joyous heft of the book in her hands
as she swung it in an exultation of furious centrifugal force culminating
in an jarring collision of solid wood product and tender bruiseable flesh
— but as she neared Logan's door, the image of Remy standing before her with
a hurt, puzzled look in his eyes and blood dripping from his probably-broken
nose was triggering pangs of quasi-guilt.
Okay, so he wasn't any good at taking no for an answer. And it was
incredibly frustrating to have to hear even her best friends telling her
to give up on the man she was in love with and turn to this pretty-faced
stranger. But in his own defense, he didn't know that she was anything
but what she appeared to be — a shy girl with a frightening and uncontrolled
power that she feared using against those around her. And available
— don't forget that one. Thanks to a year of subterfuge, everyone else
in the X-Mansion, so far as they considered her love life at all, assumed
that her isolating mutation and lingering "unrequited" crush on Logan were
the reasons her apparent love life since coming to Xavier's had been limited
to a very few dates with Bobby in her first months at the school.
Her annoyance returned, and as she opened the door to Logan's room it was
with the question, "Why won't people believe that someone with a potentially
deadly mutation prohibiting human contact might actually be better off *without*
a boyfriend?!"
Logan blinked. "Because you're happier *with* me?"
[Better fill me in, sweetheart. Remember, *I* don't get to listen to what's going in your head,] advised Subliminal Logan.
Rogue sighed, closing the door behind her and tossing her book onto the bed
before flopping down next to it. "*I* know that, and *you* know that,
but to Jubi and Kitty you're a thickheaded idiot who keeps chasing after
Jean Gray, and *I'm* a thickheaded idiot for silently lusting after you when
there's six feet of redheaded Cajun sex following me around flinging himself
at my feet." Logan's eyebrows lowered, his expression darkening from
Puzzled to Brooding, with underlying suggestions of the Smouldering that
was never far below the surface. "And when I tried to pull the ‘mutant
life-sucking power' card, they told me it should be his choice to risk it.
They even said I should *deliberately* touch him, so I'd have *him* in my
head and *know* whether I wanted him or not, and so *he'd* know what he'd
be risking."
Logan's face flashed right past Smouldering and landed on Deeply Pissed, with suggestions that Enraged might not be far distant.
"It's okay, sugar. I managed to convince them what a dumbass idea *that* was."
"But?"
"But they still think I should at least try dating him."
Face still set to Deeply Pissed but with a bit of Brooding Mode sneaking
back in, Logan rose from the desk chair and made his way to the bed.
As he seated himself beside her, Marie quickly kicked off her shoes (in deference
to a lifetime of habit caused by her mother's repeated, "Shoes off the bedspread!")
as he hooked an arm under her knees, lifting her legs onto the bed and scooting
her over to make room for himself to lie down beside her. Nudging his
knees under her raised thighs and settling his arm around her waist, he asked
her, "Have you considered telling them?"
Marie frowned. "Yeah, but Jubi can't keep a secret worth a damn.
And she'll be a lot more hurt if she finds out I told Kitty and left her
out, than she will if I leave them both in the dark." Shifting position
a little and peeling off her gloves, she rested her now-bare hand on his
arm and turned her head to meet his eyes. "Besides, they're not the
whole problem — I had Jean suggesting I get Remy to drive me into town the
next time I needed a ride instead of ‘bugging you,' and Scott said something
about me maybe including him in a few of our little ‘practice sessions,'
since he's old enough to need accelerated training in the self-defense course
so they can slap him into uniform faster."
She felt the vibration before it was audible, the low rumble increasing in
volume and fury as she finished speaking. [Oh, yeah, *real* good — let Gumbo
cut in on our two main excuses to get alone time together,] Subliminal Logan
translated.
Marie combed her fingers through one sideburn soothingly. "But I don't
*have* to go find him whenever I want a ride somewhere — and as for the practice
sessions, our excuse for giving me private lessons still holds. As
far as anyone knows, no one else can risk touching me."
"That's very true, and I'd be *happy* to prove it. Thrilled.
Ecstatic, even," Logan growled softly, an unpleasant light coming into his
eyes.
She smiled, continuing to rough up and smooth down the hair along the corner
of his jaw. "If he needs accelerated training, it's not like you don't
have enough spare time to give him a few private classes."
The feral light in the hazel eyes brightened, as Wolverine bared a few teeth
in what was less a smile and more a leer of impending mayhem. "Of course,
him not really being a kid and us being in a *hurry* to get him into uniform
— I may have to be a bit *rough* on him..."
Marie debated whether or not to feel sorry for Gambit. "I'm sure he'll learn very quickly," she murmured soothingly.
More teeth became visible. "He'd better." Logan's eyes went distant
for a moment, distracted by the joyous prospect of being given a semi-legit
reason to pound the crap out of Remy, before remembering the earlier track
the conversation had been on. "But that's not going to solve the problem,
will it? We've got *how* many people trying to hook you two up?"
"At least Jubes and Kitty, Jean and Scott, and the Professor was saying something
about how nice it was to see me with a young man. Hank said something
with too many words that I think boiled down to the same thing as the Professor
said." Responding to the resumed growl, she added, "If it's any consolation,
I don't think Storm was actively trying to throw us at each other."
"Is there any way to convince these people you just aren't into him?"
Marie hesitated, not wanting to bring up words like "giggling" or "lighting up" in regard to Remy, in front of Logan.
[Good idea. A *very* good idea,] Inner Logan said. [I *really* don't want to hear any of that.]
"I think — everyone seems to think that I'm refusing him because I'm scared
of my gift hurting him, or I don't want to be too close to people — or I'm
still in love with you."
Logan half-smirked. "Which is entirely true. So what's wrong
with *that*?" He frowned, momentary flash of humor gone. "What
has a skinny thief from New Orleans — who's *also* too old for the two of
you to be legal together — got that makes him so much better for you than
*I* am?"
"Aside from the fact that, as far as everyone knows, he loves me and you don't?" she asked facetiously.
And the Brooding was back. "So you mean if we just came clean from
the beginning we wouldn't have had a problem with Chuckie and the rest of
them?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Keep in mind that I'm a year older now than
I was when you and I started out — and Remy's a lot closer to my age than
you are. And *really* remember that everyone pushing me at him still
thinks that I can't be touched skin-to-skin."
Logan considered this. "But if we let people know we're an item, and skipped over the part about your skin for now...?"
Marie hesitated. "We... *could* try that. But we don't know for
sure that the folks in charge will like the idea of you and I as much as
they like me and Remy. Or that we'd be able to keep the secret about
my gift once they knew about the other bit. We might get a little more
insisting on chaperones, and a little less time alone together." Big
pause. "And then there are my parents... We've had enough fun
making sure they haven't run into you on any of their visits — they'd be
looking be a lot harder to meet ‘my boyfriend Logan' than they have to find
‘my friend Logan' — and if everyone knew we were seeing each other we might
even have a few people — like, say, *Scott* — trying to help my parents find
you rather than steering y'all away from each other..."
Logan looked distinctly unsettled. Although he'd never been a father
himself (or at least couldn't recall it if he had), he had a pretty good
idea of how far he fell from the average father's idea of the ideal mate
for his daughter. Completely setting aside the drinking, smoking, and
motorcycle, there was not only the mutant thing (parents having a tendency
to prefer their children to be nonmutant, he strongly suspected that they
might prefer them to at least marry nonmutants in the hope of having "normal"
children) but the age question. And that wasn't even taking into consideration
his marked tendencies towards violence and outright murder... "Your
parents are *definitely* better off not meeting me."
"Agreed. So we're happier with *them* not knowing." She paused, struck by a sudden thought. "What about Remy?"
"What *about* him?"
"*He's* the big problem — what might happen if we tried telling *him* at
least that I'm taken and he might as well back off? Think *that* would
work?"
Logan frowned. "It didn't stop me from hitting on Jeannie."
"Yeah, but you were just doing that to piss off Scott — and then to distract people from all the time you spend around *me*."
"So? I'm sure Gumbo's dumb enough to try to jack with me if he knew
we were an item — he's bad enough now when he thinks we're just friends.
Besides," he added, "we'd have to trust him not to tell everyone else about
us. Do we know for sure he wouldn't be petty enough to do something
like sic Scooter on us if you told him you were passing *him* over for *me*?"
Marie frowned. "Good point. Damn."
"So — we either share the news and finally find out exactly *what* they'll
all do when they find out — or we find some way to deal with Gumbo without
him finding out."
A sigh. "I don't think I like either option."
"Or we break it off and you date Gumbo."
Marie turned her head to meet Logan's eyes. He didn't look at all happy
at the prospect. [There are *always* other choices,] Subliminal Logan whispered.
[The question is just whether you can live with them.]
"Okay, I *don't* like Option Number Three." She felt Logan relax slightly.
"So — we stick together, and tell or not tell..." A considering pause.
"I think... Well, once we tell we can't take it back, but if we decide
to keep things to ourselves for a while we can still tell if and when we
need to... Or maybe even decide just who we want to tell..."
Logan regarded her measuringly. "You sure? More sneakin' around?"
"It's not much fun, but it sure saves a lot of arguing." Logan shrugged
the shoulder he wasn't lying on in lopsided agreement. "Besides, maybe
if I just keep discouraging Remy he'll give up and move on to someone he's
got a better chance with..."
"Or he'll just keep grabbing what's around whenever he takes one of those
little trips he goes on, and hit on you whenever he's under Chuckie's roof."
"The way everybody assumes *you* do." Referring in this case to the way Logan hit on Jean, not on Marie.
A nod of agreement. Logan having a certain tendency to wander off to
Salem Center or even NYC of an evening, he made a deliberate point of coming
back in the wee hours often enough to preserve the illusion of returning
from periodic late-night trysts. Sometimes he snuck Marie out past
curfew for an evening of pool and a bit of necking on the motorcycle in a
deserted layby on the way home. More often he just drank and got into
fights on his own. Celibacy was in no way a part of his public image.
"Hmm..." Marie considered this.
"If he's *really* interested — or even just really having fun chasing after
you — he may not be that easy to get rid of," Logan warned.
"Especially not if he's got half the school telling him stuff like I like
him, I'm really just shy, I'm not seeing anybody, I'm scared of my gift..."
"Mmmmrrr..." An unhappy grumble.
Marie sighed. "This is a pain." She unhooked her legs from his,
scootched over onto her side and leaned her face into his chest. He
grumbled in agreement and ran his fingers gently up and down her back.
"At least I can get away from him *here,* she added.
She saw the smile when he hooked his fingers under her jaw and raised her
face for a kiss. Combing her fingers back through his hair, she responded
happily — and more so when he gently pressed her over onto her back for a
deeper kiss. Putting her arms around him, she felt him sliding his
hand up under her shirt.
* * *
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be loved.
Is there something wrong with me?
Once in my life I'd like to be really set free.
Let me be me."
— "B.B.K." by Korn
* * *
Having checked herself in the bathroom mirror before leaving Logan's room
to be sure she didn't *look* twenty minutes past wild Wolvie-sex, Marie let
herself back into her room. She turned the knob quietly, hoping desperately
that her roommates would be asleep and she could let herself in without waking
them.
No such luck.
Jubi was still at her desk — possibly *still* wrestling with her calculus
homework. "Wolvie throw you out?" she asked snidely.
"What?" For a moment Rogue wondered if she'd missed something about her appearance.
"Wolvie decide to send you home?"
"How'd you know I was with Logan?"
"Where else would you be at this time of night?"
"Point."
"You know that dogtag is the only difference between us, don't you?"
"What?"
"He makes sure *you* get the dogtag whenever he goes somewhere, but he's
as likely to take me or Kitty when he goes off to pick up a new kid, and
he runs all of us into town or to the mall. He's been teaching all
of us to fight. He's not any more likely to turn around and start dating
you than he is with any of us."
Logan had been *extremely* careful not to show any stronger attachment to
Marie than to either of her roommates — in public, at least. The dogtag
was the one exception that he allowed himself. The upshot of it was
that Rogue, unable to explain how Logan had just an hour ago been busily
proving how wrong Jubilee was, had no ready reply.
While Marie fumbled for a response, Kitty proved herself to have been awakened
by the conversation (if she hadn't been awake all along). "She's right,
you know. He's not interested right now, and you're wasting your time
if you're planning to wait for him till you're old enough and then try to
convince him you're not his little sister."
Stung, Rogue countered with, "At least he's not trying to throw me at the
first guy who comes along willing to take a chance on the leper!"
Jubes rolled her eyes. "Of course not — he's had that whole alpha male
thing going with Remy ever since he pulled up on his Harley. He likes
anything that pisses Gambit off."
Marie silently considered the irony of public opinion — which held that Logan
and Scott fought because of a woman, while Logan and Remy were trying to
establish who the biggest shark in this pond was — exactly switching the
reality of the respective situations.
"I know you've been into Logan for *years,*" Kitty said, "but look at it
this way: If things with you and Remy don't work out, Logan should still
be there. And if you and Remy turn out to be meant for each other,
or Logan hooks up with someone he likes, then you and he were never meant
to be."
"Which you *weren't,*" Jubes grumbled.
"Besides," Kitty added with a giggle. "Given how he feels about Remy,
he might decide to step in just to keep the two of you apart!"
"HEY! Don't go giving her ideas! She starts going with Remy just
to make Wolvie jealous, bad things'll happen..." Jubes snapped. "Like
Remy winding up punctured."
"Or Remy winding up thinking I want him when I'm just using him to get to Logan?" Rogue asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Please, chica. You go with Remy, you'll like him. Try him and see," Jubilee coaxed.
"Y'all aren't giving up on this, are you? What's it gonna take to convince you I don't want to date him?"
"Try dating him," Kitty said. "Go on, give him a chance. If you
give him a try — *for real,* not just to shut us up or get Logan's attention
— and you still don't want him, we'll let you alone."
"Really?"
"Sure," Jubilee said expansively. "If you give him a *real* try — and
if you can convince *us* you're really not interested — then we'll let up
on you."
[Uh-oh.] Marie sensed a world of trouble lay in "giving him a *real* try"
— and convincing Jubilee and Kitty might be just short of impossible under
these conditions.
"Well? Do we have a deal?" Jubi prodded.
"What?"
"You go out with Remy, and if you really try and it doesn't work out then we'll let you alone," Kitty clarified. "Deal?"
"And if I say no?"
"Then we'll keep after you! All day, every day!" Jubes threatened cheerfully. Marie didn't doubt her for an instant.
[Sugar?] she silently asked her Subliminal Logan. [I *hate* this idea, in
every *possible* way. But they've got you over a barrel,] he reluctantly
admitted.
[So I go for it?]
[I can't see any other way out of this.]
"Okay, but only under protest. Don't try to make this into something
it's not," she warned, a statement almost guaranteed to be ignored in the
sense in which it was meant.
Jubilee whooped with triumph, indulging herself with a brief (and small-scale)
burst of pyrotechnic enthusiasm. "You won't regret this," Kitty said
with a warm smile.
"I already do," Rogue muttered sourly. [I am *so* not looking forward to this. *Or* to telling Logan.]
[Neither am I,] growled Subliminal Wolvie.
As she rested her history book (unread this evening) on the shelf beside
her other texts and prepared for bed, she debated the possible tactics for
convincing Jubilee that the news of Rogue and Logan's couplehood should *not*
be spread to all and sundry. The concept of not giving the news to
the ‘rents was an easy one, and with the very real threat of their yanking
Marie from school the odds of Jubes giving them the news were fairly low.
Trying to get her not to spread the news to the adults at the X-Mansion was
a bit trickier, though the paired arguments of the probability of their telling
her parents or of their disapproval might work. It was so easy for
Rogue to picture Scott and Xavier having matching coronaries at the news
that a "teacher" had been boffing a student for much of the past year, that
even Jubilee might be convinced of the idea.
But in the final analysis, Marie concluded with a sigh, when it came down
to not telling people who might have problems with the news (or wind up *causing*
problems), or not telling people who might pass the news on to the wrong
people — well, Jubes would come down on the side of maximal gossip, whereas
Marie had too much Logan in her *not* to be paranoid about sharing.
Paranoid, and with a strong tendency to keep personal information close to
the vest that had again been enhanced by her Subliminal Logan.
So for the moment, Jubes (and therefore Kitty as well) would have to remain
in blissful ignorance. [Dammit. I could have used the support.
I could have done without them throwing me at Remy. And I *definitely*
could have done with picking Kitty's brains for ideas on how to work this
— she's a lot better at thinking things through than I am!]
Marie (and Subliminal Wolvie) growled softly in frustration.
* * *
"If you think the problem is bad now, just wait until we've solved it."
— Kasspe
* * *
Unfortunately, no ideas for dodging Jubi and Kitty's ultimatum had come to
her in the night, and the next morning brought problems of its own.
The first problem came in the form of the biggest complication in her life
to date, as she walked out of her morning world history class and into an
ambush. Remy LeBeau had been leaning oh-so-casually against a wall
in the hallway outside Storm's classroom waiting for the bell to ring.
He nodded amiably at most of the exiting students as they wandered past,
turning and falling into step with Rogue and her two best friends as they
came out of the room.
"Mornin', beautiful! Hello, ladies," with a nod towards Jubi and Kitty. "Mind if I have a word with you?"
"She will," Jubilee announced before Marie could respond. "She'll go out with you."
Rogue flashed her erstwhile friend a Look while Gambit blinked in surprise. "Really?"
"Yes," Kitty broke in. "She's just being shy." Now Kitty earned an evil glare for her very own.
Remy, being on the wrong side of Rogue to see the full effect of her Evil
Eye, cautiously followed up on the perceived opening. "Friday night
at seven, out to somewhere nice. Down in the City."
"She'll be ready," Jubilee promised.
"Right. Well. I'll... I'll see you then," Remy cautiously confirmed.
Which left Marie in an iffy position. Come right out and say, ‘No,
I still don't want to go out with you. Ignore them, they're full of
it'? Bringing her two best friends down on her wasn't a consideration
at the moment, as angry as she was at them, but she had a hard time giving
Remy a strong rejection. She was just always going to be more comfortable
making excuses than giving someone a flat no. But with her two so-called
friends there to contradict any excuse she could make, her options were reduced
to ‘no' or...
She shrugged diffidently.
"All right!" Remy said more cheerfully, letting the three of them head into Hank's biology class.
As Rogue took her seat, her ire at the pair accompanying her was deflected
by a new thought. [How the hell am I going to tell Logan?]
[I'll *kill* him,] Subliminal Logan warned. [Or *those* two. Either. Both. All...]
Inner Wolvie merely growled balefully.
* * *
Lunch falling right after biology in her current schedule, Marie took advantage
of the first available opportunity to talk to Logan privately. [If he hears
about my little date with Remy *before* he hears it from me...] Shaking off
Kitty and Jubes as they left the classroom after the bell, she told them
she had something she needed to go do. She caught the disappointed
looks on their faces but ignored them. [Probably wanted to talk about my
"date" and what I'm going to wear or something,] she groused to herself.
[Or worse yet, they want me to sit with Remy and get all lovey-dovey.]
Remembering Logan's Wednesday morning class, she took a chance and headed
for his room. And turned out to have guessed correctly, he just having
come out of the shower when she knocked on his door and stuck her head in
without waiting for an answer. "Mind taking me on a burger run?
We need to talk."
Picking up his shirt and putting it on, "Sure. Just let me get my shoes
on." Sitting on the bed with a pair of clean socks and his banged-up
old boots, he ventured, "Something wrong?"
"Kind of, but I think we need to get out of here before we talk about it."
Accepting this at face value, he didn't say anything further. Leaving
her books in his room, she followed him down to the garage and to his Harley.
She didn't break the silence until they were pulling into the parking lot
at the Salem Center McDonald's, when she suggested getting something to go
and finding somewhere to pull over and eat on the way back. When he
turned to look over his shoulder at her, she added, "This is too public."
He didn't say anything, but she felt him tense up.
Drive-throughs sometimes being touchy about motorcycles, they had to go inside.
Once out, she held the bag while he drove, until they reached a generally-deserted
layby on the way home that was of some familiarity to the both of them.
Rolling to a halt and shutting off the engine, Logan turned to Marie.
"Just what was so touchy that you couldn't tell me about it back at the Mansion
or in a public place?"
Pussyfooting around trying to "break it to him gently" was only going to
irritate him further. "Jubilee and Kitty set me up with a date with
Remy for this Friday."
"*WHAT*?!" was the best Logan could manage for a verbal response before the Wolverine took over with a long, rolling growl.
Speaking loudly to be heard over the rumbling, she went on, "They cornered
me last night after I got back from your room. Said they weren't going
to let me make a big mistake by turning him down and wouldn't let me off
the hook unless I gave him a fair chance before deciding I didn't want him."
The growling increased in volume.
"It came down to a choice between going along with them or spilling my guts.
And I really *didn't* think telling Jubilee was the way to go. So I
figured if I can convince him I'm not worth the trouble after all, I might
be able to pull this off."
"How?" The word was snarled out, but Marie chose to be optimistic about the shift to verbal communication.
"Oh, let's see — what would convince *you* a chick wasn't worth being around?
Or at least, wasn't going to be putting out? I'm thinking dressing
as non-sexy as I can, not letting him touch me *at all*, not talking to him
any more than I can possibly help..."
"Some date." From a growl to a grumble — his mood seemed to be improving.
"I don't want to be going out with him — and I'm hoping he'll figure that out."
"And yet you agreed to go out with him?"
"No, Jubes and Kitty agreed for me."
"Hmmph."
"Feel free to take it out on them."
"I think it's going to be a very *long* time before I take either one of them out on a pick-up. Or to the mall."
"Good start. Don't forget combat lessons, either."
"I think I'll have a couple of ‘volunteers' in mind whenever I need to demonstrate
a really nasty move for the next month or two at least..."
* * *
With her plan in mind, Rogue selected her outfit for her — ugh! — "date"
carefully. Blouse — loosely-fitting and buttoned up to her neck, showing
as little cleavage as possible and in a drab shade of dove grey. (A Christmas
gift from her grandmother, apparently still operating under 1950s standards
of what was considered appropriate attire for a young lady.) Skirt — dark,
calf-length and loose, to show as little leg as possible. Makeup —
absolutely none. Hair — pulled back into a ponytail. Gloves,
check, scarf, check — both in black, making her outfit boringly monochromatic.
Marie studied her reflection critically. [Not bad. "Mousy Social Reject."
Wish I had some glasses.]
The problem arose when she left the bathroom and had to pass her roommates.
"WHOA! Chica, what the *hell* do you think you're doing? Don't tell
me you're wearing *that* out where people can see you?"
Rogue looked down at her outfit "innocently." "Something wrong with it? I don't have any stains on it, do I?"
"‘Something *wrong* with it'? ‘*Something WRONG with it*'?!"
Before Jubes could start frothing at the mouth, Kitty intervened. "It's
a little — drab. Don't tell me you're wearing that on your date with
Remy?"
"Damn straight. He said he's taking me somewhere nice, and I wanted
to look like an adult, not a mallrat or a tramp." Which was a low blow
aimed directly at Jubes' idea of proper date-night attire, but Marie was
hoping the "adult" comment would help justify her wardrobing decisions.
"‘Somewhere nice'? He's taking you somewhere pricey, you mean?
Dammit, girl, for a place like that you dress *up*, not like a refugee from
an all-girl school! Chica, you look sexier in the stuff you wear every
day." Crap. The value of maturity was plainly lost on Ms. Lee.
Time to shift tactics, then. The best defense being a good offense,
and Subliminal Logan being helpfully surly, Marie let her "friend" have it.
"God *damn* it, I'm only going *on* this date because you two bullied me
into it! I am *not* putting out for him no matter *how* pricey a dinner
he tries to feed me and I am *not* walking out of here looking like a slut
because that's how *you* think I should dress. It's my ‘date' and I'm
the one who's gonna have to deal with keeping his hands off me all night
so just leave me the hell alone!" With that she stormed out, making
a point of slamming the door behind her.
It would have been both embarrassing and convenient to discover Remy waiting
for her in the hallway, having plainly heard her outburst. Whether
fortunately or not, he was actually waiting for her down in the lobby and
therefore oblivious to her parting commentary to her roomies.
The look on his face when Remy saw her outfit did her heart good, though.
He covered his reaction quickly, but for just a moment the naked chagrin
on his face as he gave her appearance a quick once-over satisfied all of
her hopes. "Rogue, when I said I'd take you somewhere ‘nice' I didn't
mean, uh... You look very... nice... but you could have just worn normal
‘date' clothes."
Marie gave him a faintly disapproving look. "These *are* my normal
‘date' clothes." [Not counting what I wear around Logan — but then, we're
kind of beyond dating.]
Unfortunately, politeness — or charm, whichever — resurfaced and Remy dropped
the subject. "All right, then — shall we?" He gave her a smile
and offered her the crook of his arm.
[Damn. I was hoping for an argument.] Ignoring the offered arm, Rogue
made a point of giving her ‘date' a wide berth on the way to the door, keeping
well out of reach for casual touching. She managed to beat him to the
door, denying him the chance to hold it open for her.
In the garage, there was another brief dispute as Rogue refused to ride his
motorcycle and insisted on taking one of the cars instead.
"Chere, you ride behind Logan on *his* cycle all the time."
"That's with Logan. With *you*, we take a car."
Again, he plainly decided that he'd be better off not arguing, shrugging
and going for the cabinet where the keys were stored. He refused to
give way on the choice of cars, though, insisting on taking a convertible
and never mind her complaints that it would "mess up my hair." (To which
he replied with an eloquent look, conveying the opinion that she hadn't taken
enough trouble fixing her hair to worry about it getting windblown but without
actually being so rude as to *say* so.)
Marie was actually satisfied with his choice of vehicles, only regretting
that she hadn't been given the opportunity for a nice, date-ending argument.
But the convertible was nice, and she was able to pretend to "sulk" about
being overruled on her stated preference for the BMW. [Best thing is, you
won't be pressed up close to Gumbo for the whole damn drive,] was Inner Logan's
verdict on the matter.
The ride passed pleasantly enough, marred only by Rogue's refusal to respond
to any conversational gambits on Gambit's part. Unfortunately when
she claimed to be listening to the radio he turned it up — and it was a decent
station. By the time they reached New York City, she was enjoying the
ride and the tunes too much to remember to maintain her false sullenness.
More problems occurred at the restaurant. The food was good, for one
thing, and Remy turned out to be regrettably charming in concentrated doses.
Rather than getting the intended point — that his date was cranky and unwilling
to be out with him at all — he seemed to have categorized her standoffishness
as a combination of shy inexperience and worry about her gift, and set himself
to soothing her worries. She didn't want to talk — fine, he'd handle
the "conversation" himself. (And make it entertaining, too.) She didn't want
to be touched — fine, he'd keep his distance. (At least until she got used
to him.) She reacted badly to compliments — fine, he'd space them out to
keep from making her too uncomfortable. (But he'd keep them up until the
idea finally sank in that he found her extremely attractive and desirable.)
Marie might have really hated the idea of being on a date with a man so obviously
well-practiced in slipping past female defenses, had she not already had
one of that type both in her head and in her bed. (Well, not actually in
*her* bed — in *his* bed, or in a motel bed, or in the backseat of a car,
or... you get the idea.) But Logan was extremely well-known to her even before
they started "seeing" one another, and neither mystery nor deception had
played large parts in their relationship. There was something slightly
intriguing about sitting across a table from an enigma of undiscovered habits
and propensities. For example, she really *didn't* know for sure whether
his attraction was to her or merely to the challenge she presented.
[And you don't want to find out,] Subliminal Logan warned when her thoughts towards her date began to be less than irritated.
Somewhat alarmed at the realization that she was actually enjoying herself,
Rogue felt briefly guilty before deciding, [Screw it. I'm stuck with
him for a few hours, I might as well enjoy myself. I'm *still* not
fucking him, after all.] A thoughtful pause, as she studied Remy. [Even
if he *is* kind of nice.]
Inner Wolvie snarled unhappily.
* * *
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