Author: Meesh
Disclaimer: not mines.
Summary: "Love? Nonsense."
A/N: eeeehdited.
On the road Rogue made a promise to herself, not to fall in love. And she's followed through with that promise faithfully everyday since...she says to herself.
She spends her time smiling and laughing alongside Jean, she's very aware that it's not love. Because smiling and laughing does not imply love. Nor does a rapid heart beat, giggly girly fantasies of being together, or an intense amount of attention on the way Jean's lips curl into a grin. Love? Nonsense. Rogue made a promise to herself long ago. Rogue does not fall in love.
But really what is love? Is it sometimes losing your breath watching her as you stroll together in the garden? Is it desperately wanting to sneak shy glances at her at the dinner table? Is it hearing a quiet little love song in the back of your head whenever she walks into the room? No? Perfect, Rogue thinks, she is definitely not in love.
So she sits comfortably, fingers intwined with Bobby's, in the common room watching TV. And then she notices Scott grazing Jean's arm so softly, so casually. Ugly grimace-y feelings rise in the pit of her stomach. She watches Scott trace little patterns and Jean smiles lightly, shuts her eyes and leans into him. Rogue bites her lower lip in slight contemplation, then lets it go. Scott makes Jean happy. And Jean happy makes Rogue happy. So Rogue is happy. But definitely not in love.
Then one rainy night, Jean comes stumbling in on Scott's shoulder, bleeding. Some mission gone awry left them all with a couple of scratches here and there. And Jean with a puncture wound in her side. After all the cleaning and patching, there were two people left by her side. Scott and herself. Almost as if they were dueling lovers, (which they're not because Rogue is very much not in love,) they sat at either side of the injured woman. Clutching either hand. Hours and hours into the night, Jean suddenly grumbled awake and breath catching in the girl's throat, she murmured Rogue's name first. Though that may be because her head was facing towards her. Nevertheless, she clutched onto Jean's hand and whispered small condolences. Scott joining in. Sighs of relief whisping around the room, the three remained where they were until the next day. Rogue feeling slightly proud of herself...because she was a good friend...and Jean said her name first...and she was a good friend...nothing more.
The next evening, Rogue was alone in her room when Jean came in. She sat on her bed while the younger girl pretended to read her book. She blushed when she knew that the telepath caught her in the midst of her non-reading. Modestly and greatfully, Jean thanked Rogue. And reached over for a hug, so carefully pressing her lips against Rogue's cheek. Almost her lips. Almost. Swiftly, Jean exited, not a sound made. As if she wasn't there in the first place. Rogue sunk into her pillows and exhaled. So Maybe she's in love...