Victor Creed. That's all anyone talked about. He showed up two months ago, had a five hour long conference with the X-Men, another hour of one-on-one with the Professor, and then suddenly became the new World History teacher. The students of the mansion collectively lost their shit. The teachers kept up a calmer front, but they were pretty freaked out about it too. After all, Sabretooth, the Sabretooth, was now handing out detentions and asking to see hall passes.
And of course everyone wanted to know if I was okay. Did I feel safe? How was I coping? Should I have an escort?
An escort. They wanted to give me a goddamn bodyguard. I think that was what pissed me off the most. First of all, everyone knew that if anyone was going to follow me around and "guard" me, it would be Logan, despite the fact that we weren't exactly on speaking terms. Second, it was hypocritical of them to reassure everyone that Victor had changed and they'd worked out an agreement, the Professor would be monitoring him, nothing would happen, blah blah blah, but oh wait Marie needs a bodyguard just in case he snaps and decides to start murdering people with a stapler.
Although I had to admit, I did like the idea of Logan being my escort. I almost agreed with that idea just so I could act like he was my personal call girl, booty boy, prostitute.
Did I mention I'm really mad at Logan?
Another thing I should probably explain is how I feel about Victor Creed. Everyone expected me to hate him or at least be afraid. Be very afraid. I wanted to roll my eyes every time I got a lecture from one of the teachers about staying safe and away from him. I wouldn't say I was completely comfortable around him at first. Maybe I was a little afraid that first week or so. But that had faded to a feeling closer to wariness—an acknowledgment that he could kill me and everyone else in a five mile radius, but knowing that wasn't likely to happen without a damn good reason.
What the others didn't know, what I hadn't told even Logan, was that the big bad Victor Creed had given me his life force to make sure I survived Magneto's machine. Granted, he was the one who strapped me in there in the first place, but he had his reasons for that too. And when he'd touched his bare skin to mine, I hadn't just gotten his healing factor like he expected. I absorbed all his memories, thoughts, and feelings too.
That was one more secret I hadn't told Logan … or Victor.
When I first woke up after the events of the Statue, the two of them were fighting in my head. I couldn't concentrate, could barely even think. I spent three days in bed. Everyone thought I needed the time to recover from my near death experience.
Which leads me to yet another one of my secrets. I didn't have a near death experience. I actually died. I really, truly died—as much as Logan and Victor die when their bodies shut down, their hearts stop, and they don't breathe. But they always come back. They don't have any memory of the other side, but their medical files have confirmed that their bodies die before a spark of something brings them back. That's what happened to me on the Statue of Liberty. The machine killed me before Logan got to me. I was dead, my mutation couldn't activate to take his, but Victor's could. Victor's spark of life brought me back enough that my skin could take Logan's life energy and heal me fully.
"I'm really just not scared of him," I said as I put in my right earring.
Across the room, Jubilee scoffed. I hadn't told her the full story, so she didn't understand. I didn't expect her to, but I wished that she could just take my word for it. She was supposed to be my best friend. If she told me she trusted this guy and swore she had good reasons to but couldn't explain it to me, I would accept that. Not to say that I would trust him, but I would at least trust her judgment. I put up with Remy for Christ's sake.
"Okay, sure," she said in a flippant voice. "But did you really have to invite him to your art show?"
I scowled at the mirror. "Well, I wanted at least someone to show up."
"Hellooo," she waved at me. "I'm right here chica, and I'll be there."
"That's not—"
"I know what you meant. And I'm telling you, Logan will totally be there," she said, coming up behind me to fix a stray piece of hair. "This event has been on the calendar for months. He even came back from his angsty broody wandering a week early."
I watched her fuss over me and tried to lighten my sour expression so I didn't ruin my makeup. It had taken her two hours to put it on, and I did not want to go through that again.
"Then where is he now?"
"There!" Jubilee ignored my question and triumphantly fluffed my hair. "You look perfect. He'll show up, so no frowning!"
I sighed and hoped she would be right.
Jubilee wasn't right. Victor had been the one to drive me there in his fancy car, and he escorted me into the gallery, and he stayed firmly focused on me all night long despite the other X-Men's not so subtle worried glances and attempts to separate us. I appreciated them coming out to support me, but after an hour, I was already trying to figure out a way to politely tell them to fuck off.
"You need me to hold someone down for you, Stripes?" Victor asked me in a low voice.
I looked over at him and tried not to blush by concentrating on how much Scott annoyed me. The Logan in my head agreed until he realized I was focusing on Scott so I didn't accidentally slip up and let my attraction to Victor show. He got real pissy after that and retreated into his mental corner to sulk. It wasn't my fault Victor's voice was so deep and smooth with the barely restrained promise of violence.
"You could get me another drink that doesn't … " I looked at my champagne glass with distaste. "Bubble."
The older feral let out a low chuckle that was downright sinful. I quickly drained my glass, despite literally just complaining about it. I needed whatever liquid courage I could possibly get to keep standing next to the hottest man in the room.
"All right doll, I gotcha," he practically purred at me.
I flushed with indignation at the way he leered when he called me doll. When he turned around to walk away, a sudden burst of temporary insanity overtook me, and I smacked his ass in retaliation. Then I immediately realized what I'd just done and whirled around to stare intently at the other side of the room. I expected to feel a clawed hand on my shoulder or hear a pissed off growl at any second, but nothing happened to me.
"Oh my fucking gawd, chica!" Jubilee appeared at my side with a horrified look. "Did you just slap Sabretooth's ass?!"
I blushed even harder. "He called me 'doll' in that patronizing nineteen-forties voice of his!"
"Mon cherie," Remy called from across the room, beckoning to my friend.
"I'll be fine, go see your boyfriend," I told Jubilee.
"We'll write out your last will and testament," she said solemnly.
I made shoo-ing motions at her with my free hand, and she walked away, glancing back at me a few times along the way. I surveyed the other people in the room and sighed. Absolutely no sign of Logan. Coincidentally enough, Jean seemed to be missing too. Gee, I wonder if those two facts could somehow be related?
I turned around to see if Victor really was getting me a drink. He was much more intelligent than he allowed most people to see and also really funny, in a scathing sort of way. No one else talked to him outside of school or X-Men related stuff. As far as I knew, I was the only one to ever talk to him just for the sake of his company.
Granted, I may not have been so willing to chat him up if I actually had friends of my own who understood me. Jubilee was probably my best friend, but sh didn't understand a lot of things about me. Why I was so mad at Logan, why I wanted to take the Cure, why I never wanted to go on dates. I'd like to see her try to figure out when the appropriate time was to tell someone that they couldn't touch you without dying but you're still interested in a sexual relationship because your libido is still going full swing, maybe even higher than average due to the feral mutations you've absorbed and oh by the way, I also have about a dozen voices inside my head, do you want to get married in May or June?
"Your drink."
Victor's voice came from behind me without any warning. I jumped a little and bit my lip from yelping. When I spun around to glare at him, he grinned at me like the Cheshire cat and held out a tumbler to me. He must have circled all the way around the room to get behind me like that.
"You scared me on purpose," I said, although I did take the drink anyway.
His expression changed to that blank look he gave everyone else. It wasn't quite a scowl, but it did look a little bit angry. I thought hat might just be the default set of his face, after living through nearly two centuries of shit, shit, and more shit.
"Just trying to give you something else to think about," he said with a shrug. "Are you really mad about it, Marie?"
His body language, from the indifferent shrug to the way he held himself slightly apart from me, was meant to convey that he didn't care. But his words were spoken in a surprisingly soft tone. His eyes looked guarded. Like he didn't want me to see something in them.
"No," I said in an equally soft voice. "Um … was that scare your revenge for earlier?"
"I got you whiskey," he replied instead of answering. "That something you can handle?"
Again his tone stayed calm and non-confrontational. He sounded like he really was just checking to make sure I'd be okay with my drink. I wondered if he'd go back and get me another one if I asked for it. A dark, bad part of me wanted to reject it just to see if I could make him do it.
"This is good." I took a drink to show him. "Fuck, this is really good."
Victor smirked at my unintended profanity. "Did you think I'd get you something less than top shelf?"
I took another appreciative drink. "I think we should go commandeer the bottle."
He let out a laugh at that. The sound seemed surprised, and he cut it short as quickly as it started. I couldn't help but smile at him anyway. He had a nice laugh, even if it sounded unused. I wanted to make him laugh again. A real one that lasted until he had to rest his head on my shoulder.
In my daydream, we both lay in his bed together, me on my back and him on his side next to me. He laughed at something and leaned down press his chuckles into my neck. One of his arms wrapped around my waist and his body half-covered mine with warmth and safety. He whispered bad jokes and even worse puns into my ear, just like when we'd stayed up watching infomercials in the rec room until 3 AM because I'd had a nightmare.
Victor was controlling, possessive, and had almost no sense of ethics or morality to speak of. I was pretty sure that if a random person got hit by a bus right in front of him, it wouldn't even occur to him to care. But he damn sure cared about his family. I'd seen the way he stuck with Logan through snowstorms and sickness, giving his little brother his clothes and his food, freezing and starving so James would survive. Victor might be willing to do horrible things to people without a second thought, and his love for Logan might have turned into something fucked up and deadly over the years, but I knew for a fact that there was still a part of him that could be loyal and caring.
"Marie?"
Victor's hand touched arm. The gloves I wore went up to my elbows, leaving only a thin strip of skin between the sleeves of my dress. I looked down and noticed he was wearing black leather gloves too. Victor was the only person who'd never made a comment about my gloves. I suddenly realized maybe it was because he wore gloves to conceal his mutation too. With his claws covered, he could almost pass for normal.
"I'm just really tired," I said. "Emotionally. Like, I'm so glad my art got to be here and I'm really grateful and all, but I've been politely chatting with people all night and … I'm just kind of people-d out, you know?"
He relaxed and nodded. "It's been three hours. No one will fault you for leaving. I'll call you a cab."
I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Can you take me home? Please?"
Victor searched my eyes for a moment, then slowly nodded. He let me drape my arm through his and led me through the crowd. It was bordering on packed, but people got out of the way for Victor Creed. I ignored the looks of the other X-Men and kept my eyes straight ahead while Victor escorted me out to his car. He opened the door for me, so I turned the heat on both our seats when I sat down.
We rode back to the Mansion in silence, and it was wonderful after the constant noise of the art gallery. Victor liked to talk more than Logan, but he still appreciated long stretches of silence and didn't tolerate meaningless chatter. If he spoke, it was important.
By the time we arrived at the Mansion, I'd dozed off leaning against the passenger door, and I wasn't too happy about being woken up. I think Victor tried to get me to walk on my own, but I clung to him like a needy octopus and demanded he carry me. Which he totally did. His arms were big and warm and strong. So was his chest. Those three adjectives might be a good description for all of his body parts.
All of them.
I snickered into his shoulder and then lifted my head to nuzzle at his neck. I liked his stubble. It protected his skin from mine, so I got to touch him. I tried to rub my cheek against his muttonchops too, but he twisted his head to the side and growled at me to settle down. What a meanie. I bet he would totally like it if I scratched his muttonchops. He'd probably purr for me like a bit kitty cat. I giggled at that too and went back to sniffing his neck. What kind of cologne did he wear? I wanted to buy it, spray it on my sheets, and then just roll around in that scent.
"Marie."
Uh oh, that was his growly voice.
"You're talking out loud."
I lifted my head up to look at him. "Since when?"
"Since you called me a … " He looked down at me with an expression that was both amused and annoyed. "A meanie."
I burst into another giggling fit at that. He sounded so offended. I could imagine him grumbling in his head, I am not just any meanie. I am the biggest, baddest meanie! I am Sabretooth, hear me roar!
"All right, bed time for you, Stripes."
He laid me down on my bed, but then he tried to let go of me and leave. I clung to him tighter with a long cry of nooooo.
"Please stay?" I asked softly.
He clenched his jaw, and I knew he was gathering up strength to say no. So I hit him with my best big eyed look, the one that used to make Logan cave in seconds flat. Not anymore. I guess he stopped liking me when I stopped being a little girl.
That ain't fucking true, and you damn well know it, Marie. Logan's voice growled inside my head. Don't you dare draw me as some kind of pedophile.
It's "paint." I replied. The expression is "don't paint me as a … blah blah blah." Not draw.
"Hey, you still with me?"
I blinked and saw Victor kneeled down on the floor beside my bed. His gloved hand carefully cupped my bare cheek. No one at the mansion knew why I sometimes paused and spaced out for a while. Jean and Xavier thought it was part of the trauma I went though, which was technically true. Every instance of getting a voice in my head had been traumatizing, and if those event hadn't happened, I wouldn't have another voice bothering me. The other students didn't even try to understand though, and my slightly enhanced hearing let me catch them calling me retarded when they thought I couldn't hear.
"I'm back now," I said.
I'd learned not to say I'm okay to Victor. He could smell the lie in my scent and hear it in my heartbeat.
"Do you need someone?" he asked.
"You."
I knew he'd meant someone like Xavier or Hank. A mental or physical doctor. Maybe even a friend like Jubilee. But honestly, I just needed someone who would understand. I had a lot of bad memories of horrible things floating around in my head. That was part of the reason I connected so well with Logan. We both knew how horrible the world could be and broken people needed to stick together.
But he'd left me, literally and metaphorically. And I was dealing with that. No matter what nasty rumors people spread, I wasn't trying to replace him with Victor. Just because you lose a friend, that doesn't mean you can't ever make another friend again.
Even if I was interested in Victor in ways a bit more than just "friendly." But I was trying to deal with that too.
"All right." Victor finally resolved whatever inner struggle he'd been facing too. "Scoot over, princess."
I did so, but I still made a face at him. "Ew, keep trying. I think princess hits way too close to this family's daddy issues."
Victor sat on the edge of the bed and began taking of his shoes. I kicked off my heels and let them land where they may. My dress wasn't as cozy as pajamas, but I could sleep in it well enough. Said pajamas were all the way across the room in my dresser anyway, and then we'd have to go through the awkward situation of me trying to change without him seeing anything and would he have to leave the room or could I trust him to just close his eyes and what about my bare deadly skin and …
Ugh. Way too much hassle. I'd just sleep in my damn dress.
Victor got his shoes off and stood up to take off his jacket. "What about sweetie?"
"Nope. My dad used to call my mom that when he was real mad at her, so he'd say sweetie but what he really meant was, listen here you dumb cunt."
"Sweetheart?"
"Nahhh."
I opened my eyes to see if he would undress anymore. Honestly, I was hoping he'd strip down to his boxers. I was wearing nude panty hose, a dress, and gloves that covered my whole arms. So if he wanted to just get naked … but no. All he did was untuck his shirt and get into bed, still wearing socks, pants, undershirt, dress shirt, and his own pair of gloves.
"Don't you wear a belt?" I asked. I hadn't seen him take one off.
"Don't like 'em, baby cakes."
I snorted and scooted over a bit more to give his massive frame some more room. "Why can't you just call me babe?"
"I'm not trailer trash, for one," he answered.
I flipped over on my side to look at him. "And for two?"
"Jimmy uses it."
"Ew." I scrunched up my nose. "Good call. Are you calling him trailer trash?"
He grinned, showing off his fangs. "If the wifebeater fits."
I laughed and snuggled up to him. He went a little tense for a second, but then he relaxed and didn't try to stop me. I yawned into his chest.
"Has anyone ever called you a snobby house cat?"
"No. Are you?"
"If the Armani fits."
"Hey, I killed a senator to afford this suit."
"Democrat or Republican?"
"Republican."
"Nice."
He snorted. "Should call you Streak instead of Stripes. 'Cause you got a mean one, little girl."
"You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch," I mumbled in a highly clever retort as I fought to stay awake.
"Go to sleep, Marie," he murmured. "I'll watch over you."
Victor Creed was probably the type of guy who would watch me while I slept, and I should probably be concerned about that, but I just couldn't be bothered. I fell asleep dreaming of Cheshire cats and poor Alice falling down the rabbit hole.
A/N: This is chapter one of the new Rocter, Victor x Marie, fic that I'll be putting up. I'll post chapter two on Monday, chapter three on Wednesday, and a NEW chapter NEXT Friday. This fic will update on Fridays, since Wednesdays are getting too busy for me to stick to that schedule like I tried to do for Virgins Don't Ask for It Doggy Style. Like that one, I'm hoping to finish this fic in less than twenty chapters, and really hoping to get it down to about ten. We'll see how that goes.
And while chapters two and three do have smut in them, chapter four will also be rated M, so if there's anything in particular you want to read about for Victor and Marie, let me know in a review!
