Temperamental

On most days Erik remembered he was the figurehead of Mutant Liberation, and that the men and women living with him in his fortress were dedicated soldiers committed to the Cause.

Then there were days he forgot that, when they weren't soldiers but just people with whom he was living in close proximity with that seemed intent on driving him mad. Today was one of those days.

Pyro and Gambit returned from the mainland at each other's throats, bickering at dinner until Erik thought perhaps he was going to smack them both across the mouth with some sort of very heavy metal object. He'd escaped to his study after dinner with relief, hoping his annoyance would abate if he could just get something accomplished.

Mystique sauntered in without knocking, a habit of hers which set his teeth on edge. "Gambit didn't put the boat up correctly, again," she said without preamble, glaring at him, as if this were somehow his fault.

"And?"

"And since it's very cold outside, there could be ice on the rudder. Not to mention he didn't mix the oil in with the gas when he filled it up, I know he didn't, and if the engine seizes up—" Her voice was rising, which was unusual for Mystique, as she continued to tell him the hazards of driving the boat with an engine not properly lubricated.

Finally, he held his hand up and stopped her diatribe. "Raven, I don't know what exactly you want me to do about this."

She glared at him, fiercely, her posture tense and coiled as if for battle. "You wanted me to be in charge of the equipment, Erik—"

"Yes, so that I didn't have to worry about it," he snapped. He fixed her with an equally sharp glare. "You are fully capable of making Gambit pay for his poor boat maintenance, are you not?"

"Yes," she bit out, arms crossed across her chest. "I am."

"Then why are you bothering me about it?" he asked tightly, leaning back in his chair. He tossed his pencil down in a brief fit of temper.

"Do you not care about our equipment, Erik? Do you think that we could just swim to shore if something—"

"Raven, deal with Gambit, fix the boat, do whatever you need to do. You're fully capable of handling this without me." Deliberately, he turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.

Mystique made a small sound of disgust. "Fine. I'll just go ahead and order complex mechanical parts on a whim. God forbid I ask the engineer which parts I may need so that I don't spend vast amounts of money on things that we can't use."

"I'm not an electrical engineer, as you very well know. Do stop with the theatrics. You're far more qualified when it comes to this type of thing than I am." He raised his eyes to hers again. "That's why I left you in charge of the transportation, I believe."

"And Gambit? This wouldn't happen if he would listen to me—"

As her voice slid back into anger, he held up a hand—admittedly not a gesture he usually employed with her, but his temper was hanging by a thread and he just wanted her to leave him alone. "Then make him listen to you, Raven. You're fully capable of putting the fear of God into anyone."

"Not you, apparently," she snapped.

The metal paperweight on his desk lifted into the air—he lowered it with effort. "Is there something beyond boat maintenance and insubordination that is bothering you? If so, would you be so good as to arrive at a point? I have work to do, and I don't have time for childishness."

She smiled at him very unpleasantly. "Just have time for children, do you?" Her gaze shifted towards the ceiling, indicating the bedroom, her meaning not at all lost on him.

Erik stood up, braced his hands on his desk, and leaned forward. If he hadn't been so irritated, he would have recognized her taunt as a sign of her own moodiness and left it alone.

That's not what he did, though. "Jealous, are we?" It was a ridiculous thing to say, and he realized it the moment the words left his mouth.

She smirked at him, as if she had wanted to provoke him into saying something asinine all along. Knowing Mystique, that was likely her entire reason for showing up in his study. "Don't be stupid, Erik. If I still wanted to be fucking you, I would be." She turned around and sauntered towards the door.

He waited until her lithe form had vanished into the hallway, and then he tossed the paperweight at the closed door, his teeth clenched. He hated it when Mystique got the last word in an argument. For a woman who didn't say much, she was rather adept at that.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

His mood had not improved by the time he left to go to bed, which was nearly two am.

He passed Mesmero on the way up to his room. Mesmero had bowed respectfully as he passed, dressed in his long monk-like robes, and murmured, "I am sure she shall feel very badly about that in the morning."

Erik had stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Mesmero until the other mutant had turned hastily away, shuffling off to the room he shared with Mystique.

He was surprised to see the light on under his bedroom door as he approached the end of the hallway. He'd rather figured Rogue would be asleep, or perhaps he'd only hoped she would be. She was the only person in the fortress who hadn't managed to annoy him.

Yet.

He slammed the door behind him with a little more force than was strictly necessary, as if wanting to give her ample warning of his mood. Perhaps that would keep her from doing something to antagonize him; like speaking.

She was sitting cross-legged on the bed reading a book, and she gave him a wary look as he entered the room but said nothing. Unfortunately, the look was enough to rouse his slowly-simmering temper all over again. "What?"

She blinked. "Ah…n-nothing." Hastily, she went back to reading.

"Is there something you wish to say to me?"

Rogue looked up again, obviously confused. "No," she said slowly, and lowered her gaze once more.

For some reason, that only managed to infuriate him further. "Would you please do me the courtesy of looking at me when I'm speaking to you?"

When she looked up this time, her gaze was unfriendly. "I have nothing to say, sir," she said slowly, distinctly, and she wasn't using sir in the way she normally did in the bedroom.

"Then why are you still awake? I assume you must have something you wish to speak to me about if you're not asleep." He crossed his arms and glared at her.

Rogue carefully set her book aside, though she remained seated. "I wasn't tired, so I was reading. I promise I really have nothing to say."

He looked down at the book lying on the bed; she was reading The Shining. "I'm beginning to have more sympathy for poor Jack Torrance," he muttered.

Rogue stood up at that, staring at him as if he were insane, which she clearly thought he was. "Think I'm gonna go sleep somewhere else," she said slowly, edging towards the door. "That's the creepiest thing I've ever heard before bed."

"You aren't going anywhere." He glared at her, and she glared right back at him.
"You wanna spar?"

He was so surprised, he was momentarily speechless. "I beg your pardon?"

She raised her hands, mimicking a classic boxer's pose. She began jabbing at her fists at him almost comically. "Spar. You know. You seem to want a fight, and I ain't so good at yelling, but I can fight."

She looked so ridiculous in her pajamas with her hair up in a ponytail, bouncing around like she was, that he was almost amused despite his ire. "Not particularly, no."

"You sure? You might like it. Might make you feel better. When I'm mad, I like to hit things."

"Are you offering?"

She grinned at him, licking her bottom lip. "Offerin' to let you try, sure."

"Oh, you think you could escape me in this room full of metal objects, do you?" He advanced on her, unsure of his intentions.

"Nah. This would be just a fight, no powers. You know, mano e mano." She waved her fists around again.

He caught her around the wrist in the midst of her hand-waving, tightening his fingers brutally. "Beating up a girl less than half my age, who I outweigh by fifty pounds, will make me feel better?"

"You oughta go easy on the brownies," she deadpanned, giving him a crooked sort of smile. "And I was gonna try and hit you back."

He scowled down at her. "You are aware I'm in a dreadful mood, are you not?"

She nodded. "Yup."

He twisted her arm slightly, earning a gasp from her. "And this doesn't bother you at all?"

"Erik, you've tried to kill me before, remember? That was scarier, believe me."

"I suppose you have a point there." He yanked her against him, hard.

"If you don't want to fight, you wanna do somethin' else?" She looked up at him hopefully, the fingers of her free hand curling into his shirt.

"You are very impertinent, Marie, did you know that?" He pushed her back towards the bed, his eyes predatory.

She nodded, biting her lower lip between her teeth as she sprawled on the bed. "Think you've mentioned it before, yeah."

"Shouldn't that be yes, sir?" he asked, eyes traveling over her body. His anger was changing into something else, slowly but surely, which was at least more pleasurable than wanting to wrap metal around someone's neck.

She crossed her arms beneath her head and grinned. "Yes, sir."

He smiled at her. "Much better."

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

It was nearly four in the morning by the time they got to bed. Rogue yawned, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. "Gonna be tired tomorrow."

"You best not be cranky," he informed her smugly, looking over at where she lay next to him. "You know I can't abide that."

Rogue turned around, presenting him with her back. "Night, Erik. You in a better mood, now?"

He stared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes. "Mmm." He was asleep in moments.