Author's Note: Watch the amazing PrincessDesire as she switches randomly between movieverse, cartoonverse, and comicverse! Bwahaha! Rogue was dating Gambit but she also has parents that love her? What is this madness? Well, it comes down to the fact that there have been so many variations of the characters that I'm picking and choosing what I want. I chose this pairing because I wanted the challenge of making a slash pairing between two very straight characters and still being in character. "In character" is tricky when there are so many series from which to choose. Anyway, ramble winding down...

Things did not become weird between Logan and Hank after the events that had transpired during Logan's slavish repayment. Though the whole face-sucking incident had left lingering questions in both their minds, it had not undone the overall bonding that the evening had caused. That night Hank had revealed a part of himself that no one had seen before; that was not taken lightly by Logan who was so closed off himself. The next morning things had been just as dandy as ever between the two, as if that burst of sexual fire hadn't been unleashed and as the weeks passed, neither mentioned it nor made a move to reinitiate anything.

The only thing that changed was that occasionally Logan accompanied Hank on his trips to the Barracuda Bar and Lounge. He never went without Hank, careful not to encroach on another man's sanctuary. The two quickly became the talk of the bar. Many of the denizens of the bar would come to watch them play, eager to view their prowess and laugh at their trash-talk. Through this method of socialization, Logan became better acquainted with Hank's friends. He found that he still hated Chris, the drunken overly-friendly twirp, as much as he did when they first met. The bartender Tommy tended to be a bit on the dumb side, but he was a nice enough fellow. Logan liked the bar's proprietor Connie the best of all the new folks he'd met. She was in her mid-forties and knew swear words that even he hadn't heard before. She indulged his evil streak by sharing stories of Hank so drunk that he'd created stories for her to tell. These amused Logan as much as they embarrassed Hank. The people at the bar had no way of knowing how uncharacteristic that kind of behavior was for him. As much as it had pleased Logan to discover that there was more depth to Hank, he had still felt a little irked that Hank felt uncomfortable revealing that to the Xmen.

Still, Logan was obviously respected enough to be let in on this side and he'd be a fucking hypocrite to judge Hank for any defense mechanisms, so he kept his mouth shut about it. It was Hank's life, or double-life as it were.

"How is it that you've gotten worse at this with practice?" Logan asked while watching Hank straighten up from the pool table. He'd missed yet another shot.

A sheepish look appeared on Hank's face. It wasn't a frequent expression for the serious mutant. "I felt that I couldn't say anything at the time, but I played better that night than I ever have."

Logan shook his head and growled. "Just my luck." He had taken Hank to be some kind of a pool pro. He didn't have much room to talk having had extraordinary luck himself that night, but it irked him that maybe the universe had conspired to make him Hank's bitch for that 24 hours.

This was the first time their bet had come up since that night. Amazingly, there was no awkwardness at the subject, though Hank's mind did drift a little to those passionate hallway kisses. Even though this particular memory had served to fuel a good number of erotic fantasies since, he had made no move to repeat the incident. He hadn't even felt the urge to try. There was no use trying to recreate a scenario which had grown organically before. It had felt natural at the time, comfortable and, though vastly strange, familiar. If he approached Logan now, he knew that it would feel fake, maybe even dirty. More than that, even though it had felt so good at the time, Hank was still a bit disturbed over the implications of his enjoying what they'd done.

"My lab cupboards have never gleamed before. Honestly Logan, you should consider a job in the custodial field." He kept his face straight as he met Logan's eyes, which was tricky because he was so amused by his own joke. "And if you stick to the lace apron, you might receive more impressive tips."

Logan was unhappy with the mention of the apron in a public place, even so empty of one, and demonstrated that with the look he shot Hank. It seemed to Logan that his friend was becoming immune to the glares that others took serious fear in receiving.

Hank might very well have brought it up even if they had had listeners, but his potential for mayhem was not revealed since their conversation was private. "Are you not proud of your domestic qualifications?" he asked in a mock innocent voice.

"Tell me something fuzzy," said Logan in a lower voice. He leaned slightly towards the large blue man. "How much of that stuff would you have made me do if I hadn't said what I did that night?"

Hank was stumped as to what his friend was referring. He hadn't taken any offense that night, had he? "I'm afraid that you'll have to narrow my options. It seems to me that I could have taken offense to nearly everything you said that night." After a deliberate pause of consideration he added, "Or ever."

The bar door jingled as it opened. They were at the Barracuda early; it was still afternoon and the loud drinkers wouldn't be in for several hours yet. Logan had only just met the daytime bartender when they had come in; even Hank didn't seem to know the man very well. He was wiry and more serious than Tommy, the bartender Logan and Hank were accustomed to.

In a way, Hank preferred the Barracuda during the day. He didn't like always coming back to the mansion with ears ringing and reeking of tobacco or clove cigarettes. The few people that were in (there were two at the moment) during the afternoon tended to be the serious drinkers. They were quiet and gazed at his odd physical appearance with sad, heavy-looking eyes. Their looks disturbed Hank less for the hopelessness he saw than for the recognition he felt. It was definitely more enjoyable to be here with Logan, though most things were.

Logan was leaning back against the wall next to a jutting shelf of empty beer bottles. His hair was slicked up into those silly hair horns. Holding the pool cue as if it were an extension of himself, Logan looked relaxed and comfortable in a way that Hank frequently envied. For just a fanciful moment, Hank imagined Logan as the singer of a metal band. The stick became a microphone, the light-up beer signs stage lighting. Wolverine was just so cool, as the kids would say.

"I mean that thing I said about Stormy," said Logan. Hank didn't follow. He'd been so caught up in his imagination that he'd lost the thread of the conversation. He blinked at Logan. "You know, blue men…switching…" Ah yes, now he remembered. It had been a harsh insult at the time. Logan had mentioned that Storm had switched blue furry men, not realizing how troubling that fact was to Hank. As soon as he'd told Logan that it bothered him though, Logan had apologized, twice if Hank recalled correctly.

Hank waved a dismissive hand. "No foul on that Logan. Then again, women always seem to be that line don't they?"

Logan snorted. "They invented that line Bub."

"Anyway, I don't believe that your experience as a slave was as harrowing as you now claim." Hank was actually a bit relieved that they were talking about it. It had seemed to be taboo between them and he was glad that it had been merely his perception of events.

"Oh yeah? You didn't see the skid marks on those briefs!"

Logan smiled at the horrified reaction to his crude remark.

"You sure that's a good idea?" asked Logan.

Rogue nodded as she replied, "best I've had in a long while."

The two were chatting in one of the school's many gardens. The sound of children playing nearby gave the day a gay atmosphere despite the serious nature of Rogue's recent decision. She was sitting on a bench that Logan was leaning against. He had one hand in the back pocket of his tattered jeans; if he stretched his fingers enough he could feel the hole that rendered the pocket useless for carrying small objects.

Rogue wanted to go home to see her parents in Mississippi. Since she had run away she had been sending them occasional letters of vague content to let them know that she was okay. They tried to assure her that they knew that she wasn't responsible for Cod's coma and that they wanted her to come home. If she'd only give them her address, they'd come and get her themselves. Of course, they were inviting their non-mutant daughter Marie home, but that's not who would have been there. Rogue knew too much now to return home. She'd lived amongst mutants, seen where she fit amongst them, and spent too long thinking for herself. When she'd come to the school, long before she'd turned eighteen, Professor Xavier had encouraged her independence. There were house rules just like any boarding school, but she was aware these were necessary for peace amongst people living in close quarters. She was accustomed to being treated as an adult, a mutant adult.

This latest breakup with Remy had been a jolting reminder to her of how quickly love could turn to emptiness. It had made her miss her parents. In a way she just wanted to pour her heart out while safe in her mom's arms. Maybe she would finally come clean to them. She would see how she felt about them before she made any decisions. Either way, she knew seeing them would be a positive thing for her soul.

"Maybe I should tag along," Logan suggested.

"I think I can handle myself Logan!"

Logan smiled at the ruffled feathers of his young friend. He didn't like the idea of her going home to a house full of mutant haters. Her parents disgust over mutation had prompted her to runaway rather than to explain that she was one. That made him distrustful of them and the effect they could have on her. She was so strong and spunky. He did not want a conflict with her parents to break her.

"Wasn't saying you couldn't. It's just… well, you know how antsy I get staying in one place for too long. And I hear that Mississippi is quite the tourist spot."

Rogue gave him a half-smile, appreciating the cover story. "I think I'd prefer to go alone."

Logan frowned. "Have it your way, but if you change your mind…" He let the rest of the sentence drift off into the warm spring afternoon. Worried or not, she was her own person, and he'd shut the hell up about her decision.

Hank had been laying low in his room lately. There were plenty of tasks that he'd been putting off doing that could be done outside his lab. The stack of books and papers on his desk provided him all the busy work that he could desire. He was reacting in a very counterproductive way to his own loneliness. He recognized that staying by himself in order to counter his isolation was ineffectual, but it was what he wanted. Somehow being around all the happy children at the school only made him feel more apart from his comrades, which was a sad commentary in an establishment for outcasts.

He set the fine-tipped pen atop the paper with a clack and sighed. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his closed eyes with furry palms. He'd eaten dinner by himself, the dirty plate and utensils resting atop a mound of books next to the door. It wasn't even eight pm and he was contemplating going to sleep. The nights were too long in the eight months since Ororo had last shared his bed.

He felt an overwhelming urge to get out.

In a blue blur, he snatched up his coat and hat, turned off the lights, and left his room. At a brisk pace, he passed many closed doors on his way to the staircase. The adult wing was empty since most of them wouldn't head up this direction until settling in for the evening. It was a different situation downstairs. Many kids were scattered about talking or playing games. The couch was buried beneath a mass of pre-adolescent bodies all eager to watch television. He viewed them with his peripheral vision, for he kept his head straight not wanting to attract attention. He willed himself to be invisible, not wanting to engage in small talk with anyone. He moved to the front parlor unmolested and nearly smiled as the cool night air came in from the door that he'd just opened. Outside there were a few stragglers, but he'd only received a wave or two, no attempts at conversation.

The moon was blocked by the clouds in a way that looked like a giant Alkaseltzer in the sky. It smelled like rain. Hank hiked the collar up higher on his neck, though the rain had yet to start. The beauty of the night reminded him of times that he didn't want to think about. Wasn't that why he had come for a walk? To get those assailing memories of her out of his head? His heart lately had felt so small. It was the being alone, which he had been years before his romance with Ororo, but this time the pain that was brought forth by the loneliness was acute. It was knowing what you could have but not having it. He tried to think about work as step by step he walked further from the lights of the X-mansion. Perhaps it was the beast in him, but he never had a problem with the dark.

He became aware of a crunching noise behind him. Having fighter's instincts trained into him at the school, he did not immediately turn around, instead he tried to evaluate the steps that he heard behind him. It was one person, someone with a good amount of weight on him judging from the loud thuds on the pavement. It was not someone trying to sneak up behind him, unless the person believed him deaf. So, feeling non-threatened, he decided to turn around and see who it was that had followed him into the street.

In the darkness he saw the familiar form of his best friend, pointed hair sticking up in places. He could even see the hair on Logan's arms silhouetted by the mansion's distant lights. "Following me now Logan?"

Logan replied, "I couldn't tell whether you wanted time alone or you wanted someone to follow after you, so I did both."

Hank was touched by the considerate way that Logan had handled the situation. Before replying, he turned back away from his friend, not trusting his face to hide the tenderness he was feeling. "You can be a very perceptive gentleman, when you want to be."

He heard Logan behind him, now walking with longer strides to catch up. "Yeah well," said Logan. "Just kinda know you. So… what is it…tonight?"

Logan wasn't the best at talking about feelings and God knew that Hank was no better, so even asking what had him down was a gallant gesture.

"Same shit, different day right?" Hank said, using one of Logan's favorite phrases.

It caught Logan by surprise, though, to hear the words from Hank's lips, especially when said with such a bitter tone. "Wanna go down to the Barracuda?" He thought that the fuzzy man could probably use a beer and some pool.

"Not tonight," Hank said. His voice sounded firm on the subject, not that Logan was about to voice any objection.

They continued walking side by side along the road. Hank was street-side, Logan along the curb. The weeds were growing up tall over the tops of the curb. He could see them as he smashed them down with his feet. It was a walk that Logan had taken himself a time or two during times when it was just too hard to see the woman he loved in love with another. Though he was more apt to taking that other man's motorcycle out, holding onto it as he couldn't to Jeannie. He hadn't been out this way since she had died, since he'd had to kill her.

"Our thoughts are both gloomy tonight," said Hank.

"Don't tell me you're starting to get telepathic," laughed Logan.

Hank recalled Logan's earlier word's about how he "kinda knew" Hank. Well, that went both ways, since he could feel Logan drifting off in his own head again. He knew well enough whom those thoughts would be about and the accompanying emotions thereof. "Your steps were out of rhythm." That explained how he knew that Logan was distracted, but not how he knew that those thoughts were of Jean Grey.

Hank thought of Jean then as well, pictured her red hair flying all around her. She was wild and untamed as the Phoenix, like Ororo, a thing of nature. He imagined two sets of eyes colored an otherworldly hue, Ororo's a cataract white, Jean's a despair-filled black. That Jean Hank could see the appeal of. When he had seen her in that state, his blood had flowed faster and his thoughts had become erratic. She had been a beautiful yet feral creature. If that was the Jean Grey that he had known, perhaps then he could have understood Logan's infatuation, but the woman he had known was simply not his type. Jean was quiet and nice, reserved and completely devoted to her husband. She was a dear person to Hank, but she lacked qualities that encouraged any licentious thoughts in him. He certainly hadn't had the strong reaction to her that Logan had, perhaps infatuation, perhaps true love, it wasn't for him to judge.

So, they both thought of the same woman in completely contrasting ways as they strolled through the night. It was good that Hank was thinking about something other than his own loneliness; Logan tended to have that effect on him. It was hard to focus to far inward with his friend nearby. Logan was always encouraging him to go with his gut rather than his head. In return, Hank often chided the Wolverine to stop behaving like such an animal. They formed an interesting symmetry.

"It's going to rain," Hank said. He looked up at the gathering clouds, failing not to think about a storm god.

"And you don't mind being out in it? What do you smell like when you get wet? Do you smell like wet dog?" Logan grinned at his friend, teeth glistening.

Hank chuckled. "No less than you, I'm sure."

The mansion was far behind them now. They were walking on the same road that they would take to get to the Barracuda but headed in the opposite direction. Honestly, Hank had never walked so far in this direction. They observed houses that were dark save for porch lights or homes with electronically lit curtains from the televisions inside. Everyone was tucked in safe and sound at home with their TV sets. How many times Hank had wished to have a normal life just like that: wife, kids, and the picket fence? He was back to feeling melancholy again, though not as bad as he had before Logan had showed up. He had a friend and even though friendship wasn't what his body and heart were craving, it was better than nothing.

"So, why are we out walking?" Logan was pretty sure he knew why, but it threw out a nice open-ended question should Hank want to get anything off his chest.

As it was, Hank was uncertain just how much he wanted to air about his conflict with loneliness and ennui. While they were close enough that he didn't fear Logan's judgment, he didn't really want it known, even if to just one other soul. There was also something that seemed infinitely insulting to complain to a friend about feeling lonely.

"I need a vacation," Hank sighed.

Logan groaned. "I guess this is the day for travel."

"I don't follow," said Hank. Logan offered no further explanation as he was too distracted thinking about Rogue's upcoming trip.

"Oh, uh, sorry. It's just the Rogue…" It was interesting how on occasions when Logan was feeling tender towards the girl, he called her Rogue, but when he felt that she was being troublesome or disobedient as a father would, then she became the Rogue. Hank was fairly sure that it was a subconscious thing. Logan continued, "She's going back home for a visit. I don't know that it's my place to tell you, but she'll probably have told a good number of people by the time we get back and I know that you'd hate to be left out."

"Oh yes," replied Hank with mock seriousness. "You know how vital I consider gossip to be."

"Well, you are the one that produced the apron," Logan commented. Then before Hank could produce a retort in self-defense, saying something about how he still had the apron from when he'd been dating Ororo, he continued, "I don't know how many other housewifely traits you have."

Hank was thinking of a rejoinder when Logan sighed loudly. "I don't think she should go Fuzzy."

"Yes, I can understand why you wouldn't, but it is obviously something that the lady feels she must do."

"I know that and I'm not trying to stop her. It just feels all wrong. If they really hate mutants so much that their own daughter would run away from them and hell, this is the first time she's looked back. Makes me worry that maybe they're not the type of people that she should be opening up to."

Hank considered what Logan had said. He always loved the open display of affection that Logan revealed for Rogue. No one else, that was still alive, had caught his attention in such a way. It would have angered Logan to no end to be thought of as paternal, but that is exactly how he was towards the girl.

He didn't share Logan's belief that there was any danger to Rogue in returning home. Mutant prejudice was no matter to be taken lightly, but the only danger to her in this matter was the risk to her heart and obviously there must already been an issue there or she wouldn't be considering going. She needed a love that only her parents could provide for her. Like so many of the students at the Xavier institute, she would have to lay that on the line by revealing who she was first. It was a hard thing for mutant children to go through, something that Hank himself had been forced to deal with. His mutation was visible upon birth, but it advanced during his adolescence. His simian qualities disturbed his parents. His father's guilt over producing mutated sperm (he'd worked in a nuclear facility) had eaten at him as far back as Hank could remember. Eventually they came to terms with their son, even after the scientific experiment that had caused him further mutation, but it had been a long road. Hank did not envy Rogue the potential journey she had ahead of her.

"Do you plan to go with her?" asked Hank, knowing full well that Logan was.

"She doesn't want me to." The statement came out with a bit of a whine. He was still hoping that she would change her mind. It had happened before. She was stubborn, but more than that, she was smart and if she truly felt that it would be for the best, then she would allow him to escort her.

Hank felt his eyebrows knit together in the front. "Ah, this must be some sort of act of maturity." Having witnessed many progressions past adolescence at the school, he could easily identify the signs. She had turned eighteen and now she wanted to become an adult.

Logan stopped walking and faced his friend. "She's already mature. She doesn't have to look elsewhere for family."

The words were so sweet that Hank could not help but to pick a bit. "Logan, you can be so sentimental! Have you considered writing poetry?"

Logan felt his cheeks redden, embarrassed at being caught acting sappy. When no returning insult occurred to him, Logan just rolled his eyes. "Shut it. Let's head back."

Hank was feeling better now and they had quite a walk back, so he went ahead and listened to Logan's suggestion. He watched the shape of the burly man turn towards the mansion and walk away. Logan looked intimidating in the dark, not to the Beast who was taller and wider, but the average person would definitely find Logan's form imposing.

They walked in silence, both watching the landscape under the darkened sky. Hank held a hand out, confirming his suspicion as a rain drop landed on his palm. It was raining. The scent had been in his nostrils since he'd left the mansion and he was surprised it had held out this long.

Logan swore as he noticed the spattering of reticent droplets. Swearing was as close to complaining as he tended to get. "Wonder if it's rainy in Mississippi."

"So you are planning on escorting Rogue or following her silently?"

Logan shrugged annoyed that he was so transparent to someone. "I've been getting all cooped up here." While it was an excuse, the thought of a trip anywhere that wasn't the mansion sounded good.

"I understand the sentiment."

"You should come too," suggested Logan. "That is, if the Rogue will even let me."

As the lights of the school became visible, Hank considered the offer. He didn't often travel and it was even rarer to do it for pleasure. It would be nice to get away for a while. He felt terribly guilty then for even entertaining the idea of intruding on Rogue's family visit.

The rain picked up to more than a drizzle leaving the pair quite wet by the time they stamped their muddy shoes on the school's welcome mat. Hank noticed Logan grinning widely at him. "What do you find so amusing?" he asked, almost dreading an answer.

"You do smell like a wet dog."

Author's Note (2): I'm really looking forward to the next chapter which will have the group in Mississippi. This one was just kind of a lead into that. I'm finding Hank way easier to write than Logan. *shrugs*