Rogue sat at the bar, elbow length gloved tugged all the way up, and stared woodenly at the bubbles swimming upwards and popping on the surface of her Coca Cola. She tried to think of anything other than him. He'd just kicked her out, no warning or nothing. His words echoed in her head. It's nothin' personal, kid.
Nothing personal. Yeah, right. It was almost laughable, if she was anywhere near being in the mood to laugh. Because how many times had people welcomed her in, then slowly grown to hate her as they realized the full extent of what she was? Of what she could do?
Rogue sighed. So. No roof over her head for the night, just enough money for the next couple of days, and images of that gruff face and growling voice with the jeans and the motorcycle jacket that wouldn't leave her alone.
She watched morosely as the female bartender reacted to someone who had just walked in through the door behind her. The lady preened, running her hands through her hair ever so casually and practically pushing her breasts through the thin material of her tank top.
Rogue rolled her eyes and resettled her chin on her folded arms. Skanks angling for a good catch always made her want to barf.
"Kid," a familiar voice growled in her ear.
She jumped, startled. "Logan!" she frowned. "What are you doing here?"
He sighed heavily and pointed his eyes heavenward, motioning with a thumb over his shoulder. "Come on, I'm here to take you home."
Rogue just cocked her head, not understanding.
"Well, don't make me beg!" Logan frowned his fiercest frown at her. "…house is too empty without you," he grumbled somewhat sheepishly, after a moment's hesitation.
Rogue blinked, then threw her arms around his middle; he emitted an oomph as she buried his face in his chest. His arms circled her shoulders and reciprocated with a quick squeeze before he pulled away.
"Yeah, yeah," he looked away, a small smile playing at his whiskery mouth. "Come on."
Rogue turned to place a bill on the bar, smiling impishly at the extremely put-out looking bartender and hopping off her stool. She couldn't resist grabbing Logan's hand as they walked into the freezing night. He put up with it good-naturedly; uncharacteristically, to be honest.
"Thanks," she said quietly, briefly resting her head on his shoulder.
His only response was a low grunt, but that was just fine with her. If he was too talkative with her, she'd be tempted to drag him to the doctor to see what was wrong.
Roaring off into the snow on the back of his motorcycle, Rogue inhaled the familiar smell of his leather jacket and smiled, closing her eyes. She rested her head against his broad back, her former misery all but forgotten.
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