St John had always made a point to give every new member of Xavier's Academy for the Gifted a chance. Everyone had a story, a trauma to tell (or not). Sometimes that resolution could take a severe beating, but on the whole, it held true.
That is, until Rogue came along.
St John hated Rogue.
A lot.
Logically, there really wasn't anything to hate about Rogue. She was no simpering Southern belle; she was friendly, kind and vivacious, with a bite to her personality (courtesy of Magneto, Logan et al) that made her no pushover.
St John never claimed he was a logical person.
Hence, Rogue's honour in being the first to cause the first breach in St John's personal rule.
She was never mean to him; in fact went out of her way to talk to him, despite his (so far) very cool response. Always saving him a seat at lunch, in the library, always solicitious—
St John hated Rogue.
Especially during history.
History was Ms Munro's class. History had historically (heh) been the time for St John's mind to wander along non-class syllabus lines.
History was also the period where Rogue and Bobby had been assigned as each other's study partner.
Rogue and Bobby, close together, supposedly discussing Napoleon's campaign in Russia, but St John knew better.
There have been many tragedies in times past spurred by jealousy. So St John was merely repeating history.
Not that St John knew it.
What St John did know was that he had better stop playing with his Zippo during History.
It was very hard to hate someone who was so likeable.
It was like hating puppies, and St John couldn't imagine hating puppies.
Rogue did have her bad days too. After all, puppies do bite.
But on the whole….
St John knew he was being silly.
But every time Bobby leaned a little closer to whisper something in her ear, St John really really hated Rogue.
St John rarely saw Bobby these days.
Well, actually, he rarely saw him alone. There's Bobby in class, in the cafeteria, in main hall, on the grounds. Bobby with Kitty, with Piotr, with Rogue, with Jubilee.
Bobby alone? There's their room, but St John didn't think it counted if Bobby was sleeping.
It wasn't really Bobby's fault.
St John really had to stop creeping in past midnight.
One day, St John found himself cornered in the library by a determined-looking Rogue.
"What is wrong with you?" was the first thing she said.
"Nothing," St John said casually. He was good at being casual.
"Well, Bobby's worried," she said, with a grim downtwist on her mouth.
Sometimes, St John's brain and St John's mouth don't work too well in tandem. Whenever that happens, St John's mouth does something that St John's brain will regret later.
"So what," St John's mouth said. "Your boyfriend can't come and ask me himself?"
"Oh, for cryin' out loud," she huffed. "He's not my—"
Rogue stopped. And St John swore her eyes took on a brilliant sheen.
"Ohh…" she breathed.
St John forgot that Rogue was really smart.
St John's brains threw up its neurons in disgust and lay silent, refusing to do anything. And that left St John in a condition best described as 'oh shit'.
St John really hated Rogue.
When he left the library, St John was in a state of dazedness.
He wasn't sure what happened, but the next thing he knew there was Bobby's voice saying "there you are" and he was being led to their room.
"Rogue said you liked me," was all he could manage by the time they were sitting on his bed.
"Whatever gave her that idea?" was what Bobby said with a smirk, which quickly disappeared and there was a hand on his arm and Bobby said, "she's right."
It seemed like Bobby knew St John couldn't take any teasing at that moment.
Bobby's face grew closer, and closer, and St John couldn't believe it at all, which was why he kept his eyes open through the kiss.
Bobby's lips were firm and soft, and the kiss was sure and sweet.
St John was still too shocked to do anything, but he could tell when the kiss turned hesitant, and he didn't want to get Bobby to get the wrong impression.
So.
So he moved his hands to Bobby's sides, up and down, along the ribs, and opened his mouth.
The kiss then turned hot and wet and there was moaning, but St John wasn't sure who made them.
There were lips, and tongues and a lot of skin that was covered up before.
St John discovered that Bobby was really ticklish everywhere.
Bobby found out about the curve of his back.
St John liked Bobby like this: beautiful and hard, gasping and begging.
There was a power in his hands, and that power ruled over this beautiful boy who gave it to him to yield.
But it was fair, since Bobby had him a long time ago.
Later, they moved to Bobby's bed. That was the cool thing about having two beds: one bed to dirty, and the other to sleep in.
St John rocked his hips gently, enjoying the feel of Bobby's ass and Bobby's sleepy moans.
St John kissed a freckle on the shivering shoulder, and ran his hands over one lean hip.
Bobby held his hands tightly and mumbled, "I really, really like you."
In that moment, St John made a decision.
St John loved Rogue.
But he loved Bobby better.
END
