Title: The Wreckage
Disclaimer: I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my bank account, I'm living the dream.
Pairing: Rogue and Remy
Rating: Teen/Mature
Warnings: Contains dark and adult themes
Summary: It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.
The Wreckage
Chapter Twenty-One
We're Talkin' Video Games, Chérie, Not Porn
"Are you totally sure you don't want to come? My parents would so love to finally meet you," Kitty asked again, a slight frown on her face.
Rogue shook her head and declined as politely as she could for the ten billionth time. "Kit, don't worry 'bout me. I'll be fine. Besides, you know how I like some peace and quiet once in a while."
Kitty frowned harder, almost pouting. "Don't think you can put off Kitty-Time forever. I'll get you to come home with me. It's going to happen." She poked a petite finger into Rogue's ribs.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "I'll remember that. Now get goin'. I know I heard Logan hollerin' for you ten minutes ago."
Kitty sighed. "Yeah, I'd better." She grabbed Rogue for a surprise hug, which in all 20/20 hindsight she should have expected. Pre-vacation goodbyes always ended this way. "Don't get carted off while I'm away," she chirped.
"I'll try," Rogue rolled her eyes again. "Considerin' I'm all but under house arrest, I'm sure I'll be alright."
"And considering you'll have your knight in shining…dirty… trenchcoat…" Kitty's teasing faltered. "Ugh. Remind me get Jubes to help me persuade him to get a better sense of fashion when I come back."
Rogue only stared pointedly. "Persuade him or bug him incessantly until he wants to blow himself up?"
"Eh, is there a difference really?" Kitty shrugged happily as she walked past the kitchen door, slapping her head in sudden remembrance. "KURT!"
Rogue whirled around to see Kurt's head pop out of the swinging kitchen door, mouth stuffed with a cold drumstick. "Ja?"
"It's time to go," she tapped her leg impatiently, pointing to her suitcases.
"Aw, man," he sighed, drooping miserably on his haunches. "This is the tenth luggage run today! Break is only a few days long- why do you girls have so much luggage?" he moaned.
"Oh, Kurt," Kitty smiled and patted Kurt's cheek condescendingly. "Don't think. Do."
Kurt grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath.
"And I'd hurry. Mr. Logan sounded angry," she grinned.
Kurt slapped his head. "And you aren't the ones who have to stay with him the entire trip!" Kurt moaned as he ported away.
"Woe is you, with useful powers," Rogue muttered under her breath. Kurt, as usual, was an undeniable asset to the team, even if it was for dropping off X-Men from thousands of feet in the air.
"Seriously, are you going to be okay?" Kitty dropped her voice.
"Yes," Rogue stressed. "It's not like I've never been here alone before. I'll be fine." And she would be- it wasn't loneliness she suffered from, after all.
"Suit yourself," Kitty sighed as she entered the opening elevator. "Have fun being alone with Remy-kins all week!" she exclaimed loudly as the elevator doors closed her in.
"Have fun bein' a brat!" Rogue hollered back at the metal doors. She walked back into the kitchen and jumped back in surprise when Kurt re-ported right in front of her.
"Jesus, Kurt!" she cried out. One more step and she would have drumstick smeared down her shirt, not to mention irreversibly tangled in some unbreakable heap.
He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Forgot my dinner. It's going to be a long trip," he explained, grabbing two, freshly prepared foot long subs with the remains of last night's deliciously catered deli meats.
"Please say there are still leftovers for the rest of us," she deadpanned.
"Of course! I'm not that much of a pig."
Rogue tapped her foot on the ground, clearly not able to believe his claims. "After seein' you yesterday, I beg to differ." Five plates. Five. And one was just turkey and skin.
"Hey, man. An American holiday just for eating? When in Rome," he sighed happily.
"Well, at least I know that if the Blackbird goes down, it isn't everyone else's luggage to blame," she smiled sarcastically.
"Ja, it's all these guns I'm carryin'," he grinned, leaning up on his haunches and flexing his arms.
"More like sand-bags and a food baby," she smirked teasingly while poking his stomach.
"It's not a food baby!" he exclaimed indignantly, rubbing his slightly protruding stomach. "I'm just protecting my six-pack."
"Protectin' your six-pack from what? Developin'?" she smiled sweetly.
"Ha, ha," he stuck his tongue out childishly, then almost immediately whipped around with a joyous smile on his face. "Wait! I almost forgot!" Kurt opened the fridge and reached into its deep recesses, excavating a large 2-liter bottle of soda. "Drinks for the trip! Thanks for the reminder!"
Rogue opened her mouth, about to remind him that soda and not having an on-board bathroom probably didn't mix well, but instead closed her mouth with a simple smile. "Glad I could help," she replied simply.
Kurt stood up straighter and mockingly saluted her. "Herr Logan is waiting. Are you sure-"
"Yes, I'm sure, Kurt," she repeated patiently. Maybe she should consider getting a t-shirt with all of her responses written on the front. It would probably save time, maybe even lives.
He sighed. "I do not like to think you will be alone here," he admitted.
"I won't be alone," she shrugged. "Remy will be here, Hank and the Prof, too."
His brows furrowed. "And I do not like to think you will be alone here with Gambit."
She rolled her eyes and flicked him playfully. "Ya'll are overthinkin' things. I'll be fine," she sighed. "No go. Like you said, you're with Logan the longest."
"Mein Gott," he groaned.
"At least he can't make you do DR runs so high up."
"But there's enough room for pushups!"
She cocked her head and thought about the layout of the Blackbird. "Is there really?"
"Ja!" he exclaimed, panicked as he furiously rubbed his arms in horrid memory. "And I want to use my arms during vacation this year!"
"Fine," she sighed, opening a cabinet and fishing around for a box of old-as-dirt box of Raisin Bran. Opening it, she pulled out a single beer. "Give him a peak and use it as a reward for good behavior."
His eyes widened at the revealing of a hiding place. "How did you- oh wait. Nevermind."
"Now go," she shoved it in his hands amidst the food.
"Be safe, mein schwester," he nodded solemly before giving her a one-handed, tailed hug.
"You too," she murmured to the puff of smoke.
Rogue took a long look around the abandoned kitchen and sighed. Typical chaos. Shortly after school had ended, the students had rushed in for a quick after school snack before loading up the Blackbird and zooming off to wherever their family was for Thanksgiving break. The carcasses of their hectic eating remained littered on the floor. If she hadn't lived there for so long, she would have assumed there was an attack on just the kitchen, a brutal attack.
Rogue began the slow process of cleaning the massacre of crumbs and dishes alone, realizing resentfully that there was literally no one else to do it. Hank and the Professor were still around, probably just for her sake (which made her feel guilty and pathetic for being the mutant orphan that ruined holidays); even Ororo had travelled off in hopes of persuading Evan to spend the holiday with family. She shivered as she surveyed the darkening horizon out of the Institute's expansive kitchen windows. It wasn't bitterness that left her feeling slightly ill at ease; it was that she was mostly alone in the huge, creaking mansion. And while she had never minded being alone, she felt alone and watched.
The Professor had made it clear that she was not to leave the grounds without a chaperone. Not that she wouldn't heed his warning- she knew perfectly well what happened when the stupid girl decided to split up with the group even though she knew a serial killer was out to get her and her little dog too. And it wasn't like she really had many places to go or people to go with either. Whenever she had the Mansion to herself, she tended to just enjoy music at blasting volumes in her room or taking a complete monopoly over the deliciously clear television and DVR.
Also, somewhere in the entertainment console was an Xbox- and in someone's room (say, Bobby and Roberto's room) was Modern Warfare 3. It was a joyous, immediately uplifting thought and she wondered idly if she could convince Remy to lift it from their room for the next 5 days.
And even more idly, she wondered if he would play with her too.
But she banished that thought quickly. It was too weird of a thought to stay in her head comfortably.
Tired from her cleaning extravaganza (seriously, would it kill a superhero to use a damn napkin once in a while?), Rogue flopped herself gleefully on the couch and began flipping through the channels, reacquainting herself with the absurdity of modern media. MTV had become especially appalling in living up to its name. In even her most neutral opinion, flashing brief names of artists and songs during "emotional/climactic/wtf" moments of teen motherhood hardly qualified as fulfilling her musical expectations.
She got a kick out of the commercials though. "I'm practicing abstinence. But not by choice."
Rogue also got a slightly less amused kick out of coming to the realization that living in the "real world" now consisted of living on a beach resort and not doing jack shit for an entire summer. It was reassuring to know her life was considered fantastically beyond the realms of sensibleness.
A few boring hours later (there was really nothing worthwhile to watch on a Wednesday night until American Horror Story, and even then, that was going to be recorded to be watched in the dead of night) and she debated searching for Remy- just to get him to find the game in the boys' room, that is. But by this time, she had debated a lot of things, mind you. And she realized doing any one of those things would exhaust future possibilities of entertainment. That and reading didn't sound too entertaining at the moment. Shooting hoards of enemy brains out? That sounded stimulating.
But was it worth trying to track him down? After all, she hadn't seen him since…
When was the last time she saw him?
She narrowed her eyes in annoyed remembrance. This morning.
"Would you mind dippin' your finger in my coffee un peu, chérie? I think I made it too sweet today."
Ass.
She fumbled through the entertainment system and took out the various games. Per the Prof's ruling, video games played in the actual recreation room had to be rated Teen. However, as every gamer knew, most games worth playing on the Xbox were rated Mature. The boys were still trying to get the Professor to overrule his Institute regulations, with the argument that they practice killing each other before breakfast everyday; for the time being, they stuck to sneaking video games in and out of the rec room.
And if Rogue knew the way lazy boys (specifically her lazy teammates) thought, she knew they would have gotten tired of transporting contraband to and fro. They would have just hidden the DVD somewhere "inconspicuous".
Like in another DVD case.
One cheaply bought just for this purpose.
So Rogue played the "one of these things is not like the others" game, rifling through dozens of DVDs and Blu-Rays quickly. For having most residents over the age of fifteen, there sure were a lot of Disney Blu-Rays stored away.
For ease, she knew she could rule out gory chick flicks and cartoons. That left the action/adventure, subsectioned into doomsday, superhero, or general male wishful thinking. She was fooled with opening Snakes on a Plane and the first Hulk case. Sadly, their respective DVDs were in fact, inside the box. Rogue cringed.
Continuing her search, she found the "educational" documentaries that had gathered a fine film of dust…
But then she found a copy one of the worst movies ever: From Justin to Kelly.
Not even the squealing, Kelly "It's like she's singing the words of my diary" Clarkson fans of the Institute touched that abomination of a movie.
She popped it open and grinned. Gears of War 3- just as fantastic and she had wanted to try it as much as Modern Warfare. Before putting back the decoy, she spotted Skyline- possibly the most tortuous waste of precious youth. Curious, she opened it up.
And closed it immediately and shoved it into the recesses of the console. That definitely went way beyond even the most mature of ratings.
It also definitely made the "things to use as potential blackmail later" checklist. She made a note to utilize this information next time Bobby forgot why he didn't play pranks on her.
Happily, she popped the DVD into the tray and flipped back onto the couch, splaying out and taking as much space as she so damn wanted. Taking up an entire couch in the Rec Room was pretty much unheard of, so she was going to take this solitary luxury and wring it for all it was worth.
And speaking of indulging in forbidden behaviors, Rogue took a quick look around, foolishly knowing that she really was the only one around. Even still… she pulled off each finger of her glove slowly, as if tempting fate to find some reason to stop her. Then the other glove. Then she tucked them nearby… just in case. With a relieved sigh (those gloves got sticky with sweat most times), she picked up the control. She was going to enjoy this.
Five hours later and she had only moved to the direct middle of the couch, glaring intently at the oversized screen, every occasionally taking a chug from her own two liter bottle of soda. No one was around to witness the sugary offence, so she felt perfectly justified in bending some of the Institute rules. It wasn't like she was in the foyer, sock-surfing in her underwear…
Yet.
"Oh hell no!" She amped up her button-mashing. She had worked too long, too hard, too diligently in the last few hours to be taken out like this. "Yeah, that's right. Take that you, sonofa-"
"Language, chérie!" a smooth voice in her ear purred. She shrieked and missed her target as she jumped away from the offending voice, keeping her hands far away from the warm body. "What will the neighbors say?"
There had been many things said and muttered in the last few hours that Rogue was sure could be observed as talking to herself/psyches. She had enjoyed the unadulterated freedom to speak as she like, and completely forgot there were still people around. Namely one Remy LeBeau, who often liked to tease her mercilessly. Damn him for his stealthy, eavesdropping ways. She was mortified to think of how long he had been observing her.
Rogue calmed her heart as she slammed on the pause button and whipped her head to glare at him angrily. "What they'll say is, 'I wonder who's that poor mutie in the body bag. Oh well.'"
With a short bark of laughter, he hopped over the back of the couch and landed perfectly beside her. A little too close, perhaps. "Maybe," he mused, taking the controller out of her bare hands without any hesitation or pondering of his safety, "you've been playin' this for too long. You know what they say about video games," he suggested, resuming her game play with a quick button press.
"That they let you live out the wildest fantasies you couldn't possibly do in real life?" she replied saccharinely.
"We're talkin' video games, chérie, not porn." He turned his head and grinned wildly. "That is, unless you want to."
"Of course, I forgot you were the expert on such matters," she smiled scathingly, unfazed with his innuendos. God, was she really adding to this conversation?
"I'm an expert on many things, chérie, but porn?" he smiled devilishly. "Never found it relevant."
"You do seem to be the lone wolf type," she mused sarcastically, realizing she was treading on territory she was particularly not well versed in. Sure, she had the memories and she overheard conversations, but for actually participating? It was like preparing meat even if you were a vegetarian; it was singing Irish drinking songs with a mug of O'Douls.
It was like talking about sex while you were an eternal virgin.
But still, it didn't feel weird around Remy. And that was weird in itself.
"And you seem the S&M type," he replied cheekily.
She suppressed a groan. So much for keeping that incident hush-hush. Why she had thought she could keep that conversation a secret from himwas apparently too farfetched and absolutely absurd. She was going to slowly torture Jubilee for this.
But Rogue let a knowing smirk play the corners of her lips. She could disarm, too. If she had learned anything from his lecherous presence over the last few months, it was to act unexpectedly to expected stimuli.
Slowly, she stretched herself back out onto the couch and moaned, letting her socked feet reach out and rest on his lap. Leaning languidly against the couch arm, she purred suggestively as she stroked her foot against his leg sensually. "What can I say? I get lonely and need somethin' to… pass the time."
Remy missed his kill horrifically. Did he actually grimace too?
But there was no time to gloat.
"I got a couple ideas if you need something to pass the time," Logan's voice rang icily over the couch and jumped a little. She almost winced and felt her face flush horribly. She hadn't been aware he was back so soon. How had she not heard him stomping around the Institute? Or how had she not even felt the Blackbird touch back down? Had video games really sucked all her attention away?
"And if I run out of my own, I'll be sure to ask for yours," she replied scathingly. She saw Remy's sidelong glance at her. Yes, she was being especially sarcastic and pithy but for the sake of sounding childish… Logan started it.
Logan only snorted, clearly not amused. Without turning her head to see him leaning ominously over the couch, she could hear his annoyed stance. And to think, she was being nice when she gave Kurt the beer bottle to quiet the itchy annoyance of carpooling mutants to and fro. She would remember this, yes she would.
"You ready yet, Cajun?" he growled.
"But I was just gettin' good," he playfully whined.
"I'm sure. Hurry yer ass up." Now she heard him clomp away.
Remy fake heaved a sigh and paused the game. With a slow, satisfied grin, he looked over at her deviously as he grabbed both her feet tautly. Rogue forced herself not to cringe and curl into herself, away from his touch- it was exactly what he expected, for her to squirm. Running his firm hands up her legs slowly, he caressed her calves…
And quickly dragged her towards him. She slightly squeaked as he loomed over her. The game was over and he was too close.
"Nice try, chérie," he smirked simply, leaning in far too close to her face before getting off the couch. "Try not to get into too much trouble by yourself, hein?"
Remy whisked off and left a cloud of his smoky scent behind. She watched him go the exact route she had heard Logan take and moments later, she heard the sound of two motorcycles leave the grounds.
Forgetting their atypical game of chicken, her eyebrows furrowed at what really just happened. It was… odd. Did… did Logan and Remy just leave… together? Were they… bonding? She checked the time on the marketplace menu and was confused even more. It was late. It was after midnight and technically Thanksgiving Day. It was around the time Remy usually left to do… whatever he did (which she knew involved bars and women).
Rogue's eyes widened in realization. Did they just… go bar-hopping together?
And then she slammed her back against the couch and pouted. They got to go bar hopping while she was stuck under Institute arrest because she was a damn hot commodity. Ugh. She couldn't wait to turn 18 and do whatever the fuck she wanted.
Or maybe she was more annoyed that they didn't invite her to go out anywhere.
But she struck the thought from her mind. She was perpetually annoyed with Logan's needlessly over-bearing attitude and being with Logan and Remy in the same room purposefully would just be awkward and painful.
But still.
Whatever.
Rogue sulked and killed with a greater ferocity than she had previously.
Author's Note: So. Got a job, kinda. I never realized how much you don't get done when you start working, even if there is so much you want to get done. Thank you for the reviews and I'm sorry this is such a late update. I'm still eager to get this out and I am thinking of it while I work in -70C freezers with biohazard materials.
Anywho, this chapter seems filler, but it's actually part one of a chapter I had to cut in half. Happily, the next half is 75% perfected. I hope to have it up soon as well. Anywho, please drop me a line or two, even if it is to yell at me for taking so damn long. I deserve it. ;D