Title: I'll Always Have Time For You
Author: Mr. E
Pairing: Logan/Rogue, Logan/Mystique
Rating: T for language to begin with by may accelerate to M
Playlist:
Lonely Day - System of A Down
The Ghost Woman and the Hunter - Lacuna Coil
Spit It Out - IAMX
(playlists will be updated as I find more stuff for anyone who is interested)
Credit:
Wood: for his awesome X-Men RP which rekindled my fanboy roots and brought me back to all that is good and Rogan
The players of said RP: for just being so fucking awesome
Glinda: for introducing me to Paramore and IAMX
The playlist isn't really anything that helps with the fic just a collection of songs I picked up watching YouTube videos that put me in a Rogan state of mind.
Author Warning: This X-Men fic is based on the films, not the comics.
Synopsis: after the death of Jean Logan is still coping with himself, he has no where to go but the mansion and even then staying is still proving a challenge. Since Rogue lost Bobby to Kitty they've been spending more time together, consquently Logan develops feelings for Rogue. There's loads more but I don't want to give it all away, just enjoy damn it.

Chapter One:

It wasn't about boredom, boredom he could deal with, it was about his head. When things were silent and the house was dark Logan had no where to go but his own mind and that's where the problem was. How was one supposed to get on with a mind that would not silence? Or in reality would not open? In a way he was mildly grateful that the only thoughts swimming in his head were the events of the last four years, he could hardly imagine what other shit he would have had to deal with if he could properly remember who he was. Did he have a wife? Did they have kids? What kind of man was he? Logan knew what he was like with his short temper and inability to turn his back on a fight, but to say that summed him up was selling himself short. He sometimes wondered if he had any of those things what kind of woman would he have been married to? A push over? A ball buster? The former would bore him to tears and he could imagine himself rolling his eyes on a barcalounger as he flipped through the television, his fifth beer bottle poised at his lips. The latter he could imagine lots of arguments and lots of thrown doo-dads that women insist on keeping around the house but the sex would be hot, unless she was a frigid bitch as well in which case he was glad he couldn't remember.

The restless man rubbed his face as he shook his head. Oh if they could see him now, the mighty Wolverine tossing and turning over his ideal wife, that was one for the archives. Surrendering at last he tossed his comforter off of him, a frigid ice cold breeze swishing through his window just in time to allow his skin to feel as if it had been suffocating. Sitting straight up, swinging his bare feet onto the wood floor he sat slouched over, his hands over his face again he took a very large sigh. Fuck was he getting old. Allowing his one hand to fall to his side he let the other--the right one--run a hand through his hair as he left his room, all ready the faintest of sounds could be heard through the manor, by now he should not have been so foolish enough to believe that he would be alone at this hour. Making his way down the halls he passed doors that were cracked open, a boy playing game boy, another reading a book with a flashlight, a girl eating ice cream as she watched the snow fall outside her window, and finally--on the second floor--the sounds of two people making out like no one's business. This time he didn't just pass, he opened the door enough to stick his head through so the boy and girl gasped and jumped up, the girl had to be fourteen, the boy seventeen. Logan was just going to tell them to keep it down and use protection, but this was just ridiculous.

"What are you a cradle robber?!" He scoffed as he walked into the room and grabbed the boy by the collar, both were too flabbergasted to say anything except stammer incoherently. "You can come back in a year." He growled as he continued to drag the boy out of the room and shut the door behind them--the Justin Timberlake poster had been a dead give away that it was in fact the girl's room, bad move number two. He pointed a finger in the boy's face, "I'm going downstairs and you're going to your room, when I come back you wont be here right?"

"I--erm--uh---"

"Right?!"

"Yeah! Yes, yes sir."

"One year." He then warned as he held up the same index finger, "And next time have some balls and take her to your room that's just...not right." He scoffed as he shook his head and waited for the boy to walk defeated-ly back down the hall. And the hyprocrit of the year award goes to--drumroll please--Logan!

He shook his head at himself as he continued to make his way down into the kitchen. One would think that with winter freezing the grounds cold was the last thing anyone around here would want, but Logan preferred strange weather. Either bitter cold, beautifully sunny, or incredibly rainy and anything in between was a waste of time. But he should have known such trivial thoughts would not occupy him for long for once again the scenario of a few moments past resurfaced. The boy had only been three years older and when the girl was fifteen he would be eighteen, for some reason it wasn't a big deal. Say for example when he was twenty and she was seventeen people would gasp but the second she was eighteen everything would be all right again. It wasn't like his situation at all which was by comparison a hundred times worse. He didn't know how old he was. He could be forty or eighty, either one did not bode well for him for recently the object of Logan's affection was easily twenty years his junior if his age was the former--which he sincerely doubted it was--or sixty years if it was the latter. So he was either old enough to be her father or her grandfather, perfect, great, fucking amazing.

Logan wasn't the type to jump from woman to woman, at least he didn't think so. Before Jean he had never really looked twice at them as he had his own agenda but she had most certainly made him stop and pay attention. Marie was just a girl...maybe a little older than the girl in that room when he met her but to also say that she hadn't done something to him would be unfair. She was the first--and in many ways the only--girl to wait for him, Jean didn't, she had Scott. Looking back he felt so stupid, rushing back to the manor after being away for weeks or months to see Jean only to find Marie's smiling the face the first one upon entering.

"She's still pretty taken with you..."
"You can tell her my heart belongs to someone else."

A part of him thinks he should have taken it and ran, but she was too young, far too young especially then and the age gap hadn't changed just because she got older. So did he.

It was when he at last reached the kitchen--couldn't ever remember it being so far away before--that he took from it the refrigerator the coldest soda he could--two weeks old and sitting in the back behind the spoiled lasagna--he popped the top and took a large swig before placing himself on a stool, his hand once again returning to cradle his head as his thoughts swirled and spun around.

A month or two ago Logan came home to find Marie crying, she had every intention of being alone and he would have left her alone if concern hadn't slapped him across the face and before he could tell himself otherwise he called out her name, and her head had snapped up to his. It was from this moment that Logan's sleepness nights began, when he sat next to her on the window seat and she begged for him to ignore her as she hastily wiped away her tears.

"Come on kid, you can tell me." He smiled as he reached out and wiped another tear away.

"But it's so stupid! I just, I'm really sorry."

"For what?" he chuckled, "Should I be sorry? Did you key my bike or something?" and she laughed, and he continued to smile but she couldn't ignore the concern in his eyes and maybe just saying it out loud would help...

"Bobby broke up with me." She said to her lap, and then she forced a chuckle and shook her head, tilting her head back as if trying to get her tears back into her eyes.

"Oh kid I'm sorry..."

"I told you it's so stupid right?" She asked, once again wiping her tears away.

"No...no it isn't."

"Anyway I don't know why I'm bothering you with my stupid problems I mean you've got better things to do than to listen--"

"Hey." He said gently, but his voice was firm enough so that she stopped, and her eyes finally locked onto his, he shook his head, "I've always got time for you kid." The fact was if it was some other girl crying about being dumped whom Logan was trapped in a room with he could tell her to chin up, there were plenty of fish in the sea, point to a boy--attractiveness never a factor--and run for the door while her head was turned. But this was different, running a his fingers through her stark white hair his finger touched her cheek again and she smiled for him.

"Thanks Logan." She whispered, and she was in his arms he could smell her hair and feel her ear on his chest. He hadn't meant to hold her as tightly as he did, nor to stay as long as they stayed, but from that day on she was imprinted onto his very skin, like a modeling clay into a mold the way she leaned and fit so perfectly against him, the shape of her lips when she spoke, the elongation of her neck as it curved onto her collarbone which had been exposed by the sage blouse she'd been wearing...

He took another large gulp of his soda. Yeah, it was a hundred million times worse.

Fin Chapter One