Hey, all… here's just something that's been kicking around in my head for a while… I'll try to keep it short(ish), as I want to have it done by Halloween time. Yeah, I know, me finish something in two months? Wish me luck.

So we have Rogue, our resident antisocial Goth girl, who, while antisocial, doesn't want to be left out of things. Leaving oneself out is one thing, being left out is quite another. Especially when you're sixteen and full of all the insecurities that that brings.

Enter into the picture one gorgeous Remy LeBeau, who seems to have a pull on Rogue like no one else; moreover, it seems to be mutual, and very, very strong. But Remy has a side darker than Rogue could ever imagine, and a watchful Logan seems to sense this immediately, and reacts accordingly.

Will Rogue learn about Remy's secret? Will it chase her away? Will Logan eviscerate Remy if it doesn't? Let's find out.

As always, responses and reviews are appreciated, as are any suggestions.

Enticement

By Alara

Chapter 1

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Like, c'moooon, Rogue!" Kitty Pryde rapped impatiently on the door. Again. Seriously, sometimes she swore Rogue ignored her just to tick her off. Immediately, she felt bad for thinking such a thing. It wasn't Rogue's fault, exactly, that she was antisocial… and non-girly… and never seemed to have fun…

Okay, well, it was Rogue's decision to be most of those things, but it was up to her, Kitty Pryde, to drag her friend out of the doldrums—by force, if necessary. Rogue was going to have fun tonight if it killed Kitty to make it happen.

Especially since it might kill her not to. Kitty had been cornered by a concerned-but-trying-not-to-show-it Logan a little while ago, after he learned that Rogue, out of all the teens living at Xavier's mansion, had not been asked to the Homecoming dance in two months. He had extracted a promise from Kitty that she'd do her best to get Rogue to be sociable, and, hopefully, get a date to the dance. Well, of course Mr. Logan hadn't exactly said that's what she was to do, but that's how Kitty was choosing to interpret it. "Get Rogue out of the house instead of lying around; I don't want to have to deal with a sulky teenager all fall" had been his exact words.

Kitty chose to read between the lines, especially since she'd caught the look Logan had given Rogue when the Homecoming Dance had come up again at dinner the previous evening. "I'm taking Amanda, of course," Kurt said, and looked worriedly around. "You frauleins will help me make everything perfect for her, ja?"

"Of course," Jean had laughed. "If you'll help me decide whether to go with Duncan or not."

"Duncan asked you?" Scott asked suddenly, gripping his fork a little too hard—especially for the soup he was eating. "Why would he ask you? I mean, ask you so early?"

"I dunno," the redhead shrugged, and laughed. "I think he's making sure he's not left out—I heard he asked Jen today but she turned him down. Apparently she's going with Craig."

"What?" Kitty screeched. "But I heard Craig asked Bonnie!"

"No, the other Craig."

"Oh." Kitty heaved a sigh of relief. "Bonnie's my Chem partner, and she's bad enough that I do not need her all emotional and crying when we're trying to neutralize acids. One near-death experience a semester is, like, totally enough for me. There's only so much phasing I can do without being noticed." A chuckle ran round the table, as Bonnie's Chem disasters were a running joke in Bayville High.

"But I have to decide who to go with, too," Kitty told them. "I found three notes in my locker this afternoon, from Joe, Lance, and Steve. And we all know what a note means…"

"Speaking of notes, here's something interesting," Jean said in a singsong, smiling happily. "Guess whose locker I saw Jeremy putting a note into? And of course, as Kitty just told us, there's only one reason a guy puts a note into a girl's locker this close to a dance."
"This is close?" Logan was heard to mutter in disbelief. He paid closer attention, though, as Kitty willingly took the bait, asking eagerly, "No. Whose? Ohmigod," she gasped. "Not Jess? 'Cause she's had a crush on him, like, for-ever."

"Nope." Jean said. Obviously, this level of excitement was above what Jess could engender. "I just wonder why she hasn't said anything to us yet…" she paused dramatically. "Why is that, Rogue?"

"Rogue?!" Kitty screeched, nearly levitating off her chair in excitement. "Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod! I had no idea Jeremy liked you!"

Rogue slouched lower in her seat, her cheeks flaming red, but not for the reason Kitty and Jean assumed. "Uhm, actually… the note was for Jess. She has locker 623, I have locker 632. Jeremy got the numbers mixed up. I guess he was excited," she added, shrugging, "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I don't want to go to a dumb dance, anyway." Abruptly, she stood up, keeping her eyes on the plate in her hands. "Excuse me, I've got homework," she muttered, and took her plate out to the kitchen. Logan's eyes followed her out of the room, concern hidden in their depths.

An awkward silence fell over the table. Jean dropped her head into her hands, mortified. "Oh, I really blew it," she sighed. "I feel so bad…I thought that she… and to make her have to say a guy gave her a note accidentally…that he doesn't like her… I—oh… poor Rogue. How am I going to make this up to her?"

That had given Kitty her plan, to have a Girls' Night Out on Friday, the next day. The other girls agreed, it was just the thing to get Rogue to forget all about Jeremy and his stupid note, and if they were lucky, maybe some guy would flirt with Rogue and make her feel better. Jean promised to encourage any interest she sensed, and they agreed to make sure Rogue was the best-looking amongst them.

Kitty was nominated to get Rogue's agreement, which she secured simply by nagging her 'til Rogue sighed, half-listening by that point, "Fine. Whatever. Just—let me get my homework done, ok?" Kitty had skipped out of the room, and quickly informed the others that Girls' Night Out was a go.

Except that now, their guest of honor wasn't opening her door. Kitty knocked once more, and let her annoyance show as she said, "Rogue? If you don't open the door, I'm coming through it." A final knock, and she followed through on her threat.

Rogue lay across her bed, headphones on, nodding her head in time to the music as she turned another page, oblivious to anything else. She wasn't dressed to go out—and obviously had no plans to remedy that situation. Really mad now, Kitty marched up to her, pulled one earphone off of her head, and snapped, "Rouge, you are not getting out of going out tonight!"

Rogue squawked in surprise, nearly falling off the bed. "Good Lord, Kitty, ya nearly scared the life out o' me!"

"Well, I'm about ready to hurt the life out of you! You are so not getting out of this!" Kitty fumed, then calmed as Rogue's expression remained bewildered. "Girls' Night Out? Helloooo?"

"Is that tonight?" Rogue asked, surprised, and took in Kitty's supercute outfit of skirt, tank top, and over-long unbuttoned button-down shirt. Her face fell, a little. "Well, if you all are ready to go already, don't bother waitin' on me. It's my fault, since I didn't make sure which night 'this weekend' you meant. I can just get my English homework done."

Kitty gave her a look. "Rogue, no normal teenage girl does homework on a Friday. Besides—" she glanced at the book "—You've already read everything Jane Austen wrote at least twice, you do not have to re-read it for AP English."

"Says who," Rogue grumbled half-heartedly, getting up. "You're sure you don't just want to go without me?"

"No, Rogue, we'll wait for you, just throw on some makeup and a cute outfit. It won't take too long," Kitty assured her, and faltered when a perplexed expression crossed Rogue's face. She amended her statement. "Well, okay, 'cute' on you probably wouldn't work, but just throw on something… nice. Attractive. Whatever, you get my drift. Maybe your red top? I think we're going dancing. We'll see you downstairs in, like, fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Rogue said as the door closed behind her friend. Despite her intention to wallow in a good upset, her friends' obvious attempts to make her feel better were working—a little. She hated to admit how good it had felt when she'd opened her locker yesterday and the unexpected note had tumbled out. Every other girl in school seemed to be getting notes by the dozen, sly not-quite invitations to the dance, question-and-answer notes seeking to determine whether a girl liked someone, or like liked someone, riddles trying to sort out who'd been asked already—and who'd accepted. It seemed that every other girl in Bayville was involved in this marvelous game of Tag, where being It meant a boy liked you, and there wasn't a girl who didn't want to be It for someone. Even Rogue, cynical, sarcastic, and stand-offish, wasn't immune. Though a mutant, she was still a human, and a teenage girl.

But nobody wanted her, it seemed, 'til that small, carefully folded bit of notebook paper had tipped out of the top shelf of her locker. She'd looked around quickly, trying to see if anyone was watching her—or carefully not watching her—but it was impossible to tell in the afternoon crush. So she bent and swiftly scooped up the paper, and hurried into the girls' room to read it in private. She peeked at the paper. From Jeremy, it read across one side of the square. She felt a thrill of excitement: Jeremy?! She sort of liked him, even was sort-of crushing on him since it was now obvious to everybody (but Jean) that Scott had eyes only for Jean; she'd given Scott up at least two months ago. Well, a month and a half, at the very least.

Jeremy was on the basketball team, not a starter, but still had that vague 'more popular than me' aura that all sports players, however poor, seemed to have. He kept his blonde hair spiked, and it went very well with his sparkling blue eyes and slightly crooked teeth. He sat in front of her in calculus, and while he wasn't a brilliant scholar (he'd die in one class discussion in AP English, she was certain), he always seemed to have something funny to say and a smile to share.

And, well, sure, he always seemed to be staring across the row at Jess, with her perfect long honey-blonde mane and peachy skin, but he talked to Rogue, too. And she couldn't blame him for staring at Jess, either; she wished, sometimes, just a little, that her own appearance was just a bit more like Jess' traditional good looks. Rogue's dark auburn hair with its bizarre white streaks earned her confusion from boys, not interest. Add into the mix the fact her skin was so pale that those white streaks nearly blended into her alabaster skin. Its pallor was the result of a genetic tendency to paleness maximized by the years-long necessity of shielding her skin from any touch—so even the sun was denied her—and it was no wonder she became Goth in everyday style. Better to have everyone think she was an antisocial freak on purpose than pity her for being an albino, or whatever. At least there was a social niche for 'antisocial freak,' however far down the food chain it was. Being pitied put you off the chain altogether, and that wasn't something any teenager aspired to.

She gripped the folded note, suddenly nervous as she realized there was really only one reason for Jeremy to have slipped her a note: the Homecoming Dance.

Was she actually going to be asked this year? And by Jeremy? Heck, being asked by anyone would be an improvement, would prove she wasn't such a loser that no one would ask her. But still, to be asked by Jeremy—!

It would depend, she decided, on what exactly the note said. He could, after all, just be asking her for calc notes. She had to prepare herself in case it wasn't an invitation.

Hope bubbled up, all the same. But of course it was an invitation. She turned the note over, to figure out how to unfold it without tearing it—and she stared at the square in her hand, shocked, quite unprepared for this:

To Jess, with hope. A lopsided heart was drawn around the quartet of words. As though to mock her, in tiny print, underneath the heart was written, Please please open this!

To Jess. Well, she couldn't blame him—hadn't she envied the girl her looks? Who would prefer the bland over the beautiful? And she could hardly blame Jess, that would be as unfair as blaming the sky for being blue.

Which left only herself to blame in this trio. She sighed resignedly as she shoved the note desultorily into Jess' locker, wishing her the best of luck—and wishing Homecoming was over, already, and not still looming two months away.

Two friggin' months. Well, at least she'd been crushed already, and maybe by the time the other girls at Xavier's were ready to begin their serious shopping, she'd be in a better mood to advise them. And there was no chance of further heartbreak—bleak optimism, that, but true: the only boys at school who ever talked to her who were not living at the Institute were Jeremy, who'd just been firmly crossed off her list, Lance, who was head-over-heels for Kitty, and Toad and Blob. She winced. She certainly wasn't that desperate, and it would be better by far to not go to the dance at all than to show up with either of those misfits. Besides, Toad would be certain to ruin her dress somehow, and Blob would probably accidentally sit on her and kill her, or something. Definitely better to not go.

As for this Girls' Night Out thing of Kitty's, well, she just wouldn't expect much of it, and then hopefully she couldn't end up disappointed again. Twice in one week would really be too much…

She pondered her closet, and finally shrugged: the dark red top, maroon really, that Kitty had suggested was as good as anything for going out on a somewhat chill early September night. Its rich color, reminiscent of dark rose petals, or port wine, was one of a handful of colors that made her skin look luminous instead of sallow. Its wide, scooped neck traced just an inch or so below her collarbones, but the smooth fit made the best of what figure she had—no, better to not think of another way the amazing Jess beat her in the attractiveness department. The only thing she had that went with the top was a pair of black jeans she rarely wore because they were so tight-fitting, and then of course the only thing to go with those was the pair of heeled black boots Kitty had given her last winter.

Lastly she clipped on the matched pair of cuff bracelets the Professor, Beast, and Storm had cobbled together for her over the summer. They dampened her absorption powers for five hours, and were perfect for a night out. The Professor and Beast had actually had bracelets—of a sort—ready for her a month before she received them, but Storm, bless her, had taken one look at the clunky, manacle-like devices, and utterly refused to let them give the bracelets to her until they were, as Storm said, "something a sixteen-year-old will actually wear on a date." Fortunately, Logan hadn't been present for that conversation (the notion of Rogue dating still sent him through the roof), and the Professor and Beast, neither of whom had ever been teenage girls, were forced to bow to her superior experience, and modified the bracelets with Storm's assistance.

They were now pretty chased silver cuffs that fit snugly around the narrow part of her arms just above the wrist bone. They were nice enough to be able to ear them formally—"Say, to a dance or dinner," Storm had winked—yet they were not so flashy they'd be out of place with jeans and a shirt. In any case, they worked, which was all Rogue asked of them. She was, however, grateful for Storm's interference.

It was a little easier to forget about the bracelets—and her powers—when they looked like jewelry. When she was wearing them, she could pretend, if only for a few hours, that she was a normal girl, one that guys were actually interested in. She rarely danced when they went to the club, wary still about touching others casually, in case the bracelets somehow failed. The few guys she'd danced with… well… no one she'd met ever asked for her number, or anything, but still… It was nice to pretend for a little, one song at a time, that she was a normal girl.