Letters

Disclaimer: Marvel, no money, etc, etc fill in the blank. ;)
Title: Accidental Acquaintances
Rating: PG-13 (not really sure on how the ratings work exactly, but there's swearing)
Chapter: 1/?
Pairing: Rogue/St John, Jean/Logan and maybe some others
Summary: After Rogue leaves the school, St John receives a letter and things move on from there.
Author's note: I don't know why I wrote this really. I was watching the movie for the 100th or so time, and I guess I wanted to do somethingon a character which wasn't really written about. Infact, I don't think I've read anythign with St. John as one of the main characters which was set in the movieverse. Anyhow, I hope you like. heh. Review=very nice person *hint hint*

St John was sprawled out on the couch in the rec room with Kitty, Jubilee and Bobby when Mr Summers found him. They were watching a sappy soap which the girls seemed engrossed in and the boys reluctantly watched because there was nothing else to do and they couldn't manage to wrestle the remote away from Jubes.
"St John – there you are." The boy looked up worriedly at his teacher, thinking he was in trouble once again for one of his many pranks around the school. Swallowing, he sat up. "You've got mail." The older man said, tossing him a white envelope. St John looked from Mr Summers to the letter in astonishment. A letter? Hardly anyone got letters around the school, and he couldn't for the life of him think of anyone who'd write to him of all people.
"Ooooh who's you're pen-pal Johnny?" Jubes said, nudging him and trying to grab the letter from where it landed in his lap. He quickly snatched it up before she could take it and examined it himself. Ordinary looking white envelope with scrawling writing on the front, in black ballpoint. It was indeed addressed to him, as the top line dictated - St John Allerdyce, with the school's address printed below it. Flipping the envelope over, and pulling his hand over to his far left before Bobby could grab it, he could see a return address on the back, in blue ink, and in a different handwriting. He could place neither of the two handwritings, although he sucked at that kind of thing anyway.
"Aww, C'mon! Spill the beans boy-o what haven't you been telling us? And why didn't I get a look in?" Bobby prodded, grinning at his best friend. St John grinned back, but puzzled in his brain who would write to him – from New York City, as the return address pointed out.
"Believe me Bobby, if I had any action, I wouldn't share it with you!" he said teasingly, meanwhile trying to get himself out of the tangle of limbs the four of them had made.
"Hey, where ya goin?" Kitty asked. He waved the letter in his hand.
"To read my letter dumbass."
"Oooh private stuff eh?" She teased, and Bobby started to laugh maniacally. Looking down, St John made sure to accidentally knee him as he left the couch. Finally untangled and off the couch, he waved sarcastically at the trio and made his way to the room he shared with Bobby. Sitting down on his bed, he studied the envelope once again before picking up a nearby pen and using it to rip a slit in the top of it. Extracting the paper within, he unfolded it and began to read.

Hey there St John. How are things hanging with you? I don't even really know why I had the sudden urge to write this to you, seeing that I don't even really know you that well. In my head you're always under the heading of "Bobby's Friend" or "Fire-Boy", not "Best-Friend, Person-to-write-to-after-disappearing-for-a-month." But oh well, que sera sera, eh?
So here I am. All set up in a dandy little flat (ok, so it's shitty as hell, but ya gotta live somewhere, right?) with the most annoying room-mate from hell who has the worse case of bad fashion sense I've ever seen. Her name's Miranda for gods sake. Though she's always wanting me to call her Fleur or some equally moronic name half the time. She goes through all these phases see, and decides she's a hippy for a week, or a goth or something else. [insert me shaking my head sadly here] But she pulls in half the rent, and that's good enough for me. I've got a job and everything – actually, I've got two. I work as a waitress on afternoons and bartend at night. Both seedy joints, but they pay ok, and there are less sleaze-balls then you'd expect really. Well, then I would anyway. Not to sure how many you'd think there'd be. Most likely you'd never thought about it if you have, you should probably worry a bit. Too much boredom there hon. Then again, you get a lot of that in a certain visored fearless-leader's maths class. Joy.
Can't say I'm missing school and classes and learning all that much, though I do miss all you guys and having people to just fool around with. Miranda doesn't exactly fill that position with me, surprisingly. (that was sarcastic if you couldn't tell. Letters are funny like that, you can't express much from them) I'm not exactly lonely, but I do feel isolated. I suppose I'll get that where ever I go though mutant among mutants and all that. It isn't a bad life, what I'm living right now. I can think of better, (staring a beautifully decked out gleaming mansion with millions of servants and a big pool) but obviously this is the best I'm going to get for the moment.
Hmm. That's all I can really think about to ramble on for the moment. Thanks for listening, heh. Or reading. Take care St John.

~Rogue.

He sat there for a while after reading it, just staring thoughtfully at the page. Then he re-read it. It had been a month or so since Rogue took off, without a word to anyone besides the Professor. Disappeared overnight when Logan had finally gotten it together with Dr Gray. Looking at the letter again, he got up and sat down at his desk. After a few minutes spent clearing a spare area amongst the junk, looking for a clean sheet of paper and a working pen, he began to write.

Hi Rogue. Wow. I don't think I've ever written a letter before. Hell, I don't think I've ever even gotten a letter before. So don't blame me if this is shitty as. Well, It's nice knowing you're alive and doin' OK, weird room mates aside. I'm alright in the general way of things, bored out of my brain, but that's expected. Nothing really interesting's happened since you left. A lota people here were worried when you took off. Wolverine in particular. He spent a whole week storming around growling at everyone and demanding the Professor tell him where you'd got to. Everyone kept even more outa his way then normal still do really. He's still royally pissed off – he was even talkin of going out to look for you, but someone managed to talk him out of it. We're guessing that he's sorta the reason why you left, so you wouldn't want him stalking around lookin' for ya right at this point.
Bobby, Jubes and Kit were worried too ya know they all wonder about where you are a lot and like you said, I dunno why I'm the one that got the letter out of all of us. You ever going to come back here? It's not such a bad place, y'know, certain visored fearless leader's maths lessons aside. Geometry at the moment – total fun. [rolling eyes]
Well, like I said, I'm new to this whole writing letters gig, so I think short is the best way to go.

St John

Looking over what he'd written, he nodded to himself. Folding up the sheet of paper in half, he tucked Rogue's letter into his jeans pocket and headed out in search of an envelope. After wheedling one out of Mr Summers, he sealed the letter into it and stuck it too into his pocket for his next visit into town – which turned out to be the following day. With a little help from the woman at the post office, he got stamps and sent off the letter. On an impulse, he also got a packet of envelopes.