Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

-=+=–=+=–=+=–=+=-

The bell announced her, turning to the doors that parted for his Rogue as she traipsed out of the gas stop. She had on his jacket, not because it was cold or nothing, she just liked how it smelt of him. Admiring her legs that he might breathe life into a memory of them wrapped around his waist, the runners she wore begged a question he asked with his curious, intent gaze, one she followed to her toes that left her laughing.

"I guess house keepin' will be finding them, lucky for me I wasn't plannin' on wearing heels home. And it sure as heck ain't like you can judge me, Mister, cause I sure as hell won't be forgettin' the treat it was seein' ya pull on your pants bare back."

"It ain't like I haven't gone commando before..."

"Oh and don't I know it, by the way...your fly is hangin' low."

She got him alright, looking down to see everything was all in order below the belt. Having a look to the numbers that raced up with every gallon he threw in their borrowed ride, a figment of a memory recalled gas being a lot cheaper. But one thing that hadn't changed was how special a service station could become from being a stop on the way to all the moments that made life worth living.

And sure as anything, while his Rogue had gotten older, even at sixteen she loved her cherry licorice. Leaning up against the warmth of the hood, she nibbled and chewed at a piece that dangled from her lips. It was a view he enjoyed all while filling up the tank, and while he had eyes for her alone, she had a smile that wasn't for him, lost in peeking into the backseat of their borrowed BMW convertible.

"Hey hun, don't you think they're pretty cute once they're all tuckered out."

Lee and Maximoff were dead to the world, buckled up and curled together in a tangle of limbs that had Jubilee bonelessly twisted to tuck her head under Pietro's arm. The boy himself was catching flies as he lightly snored, his head lolled up against a corner of the backseat. The pair of them had been running on fumes by the time they'd picked them up, too tired to sass any lip or even explain themselves.

"Babe, you got a warped sense o' cute."

Grinning around her luscious little strip of licorice, Rogue dug for her phone in his jacket so she could snatch a candid shot of their passed out troublesome teens.

"Blackmail?" Chuckling at the thought his Rogue gave to his suggestion, her shrug said that hadn't been her original intent, but that she wasn't about to rule it out.

"Well, it's way past ten pm, I figured Erik might wanna know where his kid is at." Fiddling with her phone in a flurry of fingers that always impressed him, Logan figured she must have been sending a text to the man himself.

The kick of the cutoff told of a full tank, slamming down the nozzle back home so he could wait out the receipt. The characteristic crinkle of cellophane behind his back brought a grin to his lips, listening to her light tread as he wait out the hug he knew was coming.

"Cigar?" Rogue's offer was made coyly, rolling her treat between her fingers as if to entice him all the more.

No matter where the road had taken them, it always came back to this gas station. It was the last stop on the way to Xavier's. And while he might have lost count of all the sunrises they'd enjoyed together so they might stall their inevitable parting, in the warm light of each new day he'd watched her grow before his eyes. Looking to the horizon, the star speckled black of night already gave way to indigo, as it would in turn fade into azure against the coming dawn.

"I think we got time."

Finding that same ol' beat up picnic table chained to a light pole, cigarette butts, beer caps, and broken glass littered the cracked asphalt. Hunkering down to take his lady upon his lap, Logan lit up to lend the very last dregs of the evening the aroma of cheap, wine dipped tobacco. Expectant of her sharp breath, his eyes fell to enjoy the swell of her chest even as he waited for her rolling purr to tell of her fancying his bad habit.

"Don't go givin' those two any shit now, y'hear me? I already got a little something up my sleeve in store for 'em."

"They're my sleeves yer wearin'..."

Stretching out her arms to look like Daddy's Little Girl wearing his jacket, Rogue reached for the horizon with her hands hidden by the fallen and floppy cuffs. He was no stranger to seeing her wearing baggy clothes all too big for her, hiding as much of her once deadly skin as she could. To see her grow in confidence until she dared anyone to touch her, jeans became Daisy Dukes, and sweats became the kind of shirts she tied off to flaunt her tempting midriff. She sure as hell wasn't just whistling Dixie when the gloves came off...

"I'll leave the kids to you, but there's a certain stink o' some cheap cologne to this whole mess that I'll be handling personally."

Blowing smoke to the breeze, her content sigh was all he needed to hear to know the matter was settled. With business taken care of, it was high time to get around to enjoying some of the simple pleasures in life, like adding one more sunrise to all the rest.

-=+=–=+=–=+=-