GLOSS
Bobby scribbled furiously onto the pad of paper with his black ink pen. Last week had been his brother Warren's turn to write their father and note their progress at the 'school,' which made this Tuesday his week. He didn't even know half of what he wrote: we're becoming rather good in tennis, Warren is literally soaring to new heights, and we're both learning more and more everyday in the business tactics field- good God, did this place even HAVE a tennis court?
Bobby chuckled dryly at the thought and shook his head. Fuck it, he thought, and scrawled a quick "Love, Robert" on the bottom and stuffed it into an envelope. His tongue was peeking from his mouth to moisten the adhesive when he heard it: a slight muffled whimpering coming from a few doors down the hall from his own open mahogany giant. Standing, he tossed the envelope onto his desk and followed the smothered sobs.
His tracking found him at Rogue's door. Bobby didn't know the woman well, but enough to stand a bit straighter in her presence and roll his sleeve up a tad to make sure his Rolex didn't go unnoticed. It was stupid, he knew; girls don't usually date a guy for his money, and if they did they're not worth the green anyway, but it couldn't hurt. But with Rogue it seemed completely foolish. She obviously had no interest whatsoever in his bank accounts, which he considered could be the reason he smiled a little more in her presence.
But she didn't sound like she wanted to see anyone smiling at the moment. He heard her hiccupped cries from in her room and his face scrunched in sympathy as he walked through the hall and down the stairway.
He soon returned with a silver platter in hand, a steaming cup of cocoa positioned in the center. What if she's hungry, he thought. Balancing the tray with a trembling hand, he fumbled into his pocket with the other and retrieved a small pack of Winter Fresh gum. Yeah, he thought, tossing it onto the tray beside the mug. Satisfied, he knocked twice and straightened. As her footsteps neared, he suddenly became overwhelmed with the sense that this was a very bad idea. Whipping his head left, then right in a desperate search for escape but finding none, he froze. "Who is it?" She choked out from behind the door. Bobby ran. He fled four feet, slapped his forehead, clutched the tray threatening to tip and crash to the ground, pivoted, and raced back to her door just in time to see her open it and smile. "Hi, Rogue," he forced out, breathless.
"Hah, Bobby." Her brows were knitted in perplexity but her eyes were red and swollen just a tad. "Whatchya' got there, boy?"
He bowed to stare at the tray as if it were his first time noticing it as well. "Oh, what? This? Oh, yeah, um, actually," he chuckled. "You see, the thing is, I was in my room, and I sorta heard you." His shoulders deflated, defeated. "I heard you crying and so... I made you cocoa." He picked up the pack of Winter Fresh. "And some gum. Well, I didn't MAKE the gum, but I got you gum." He added a bit helplessly.
She leaned against the doorframe. After a few heavy, silent seconds, she laughed and stepped aside, widening the entrance. "Well if yah come bearin' gifts, by all means, come on in!" She said brightly, ushering him inside. He smiled, shuffling into the room and offering her drink.
An awkward pause and then, "Is it good? I wasn't sure if you liked marshmallows or not so I just left them out... and ate them myself."
She nodded over the brim, sipping slowly. "It's wondahful."
Thanks," he grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It's an old recipe- family secret, actually."
"Really?"
"Yeah. My aunt's recipe; perhaps you've heard of her: Swiss Miss?"
Rogue laughed, for real this time. She was relieved Bobby didn't ask her any questions. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle questions just yet. Except maybe one. "Want a backrub?"
She met his eyes. "What?"
"I'm not trying to be slick or anything, it's just that sometimes, the best medicine is touch, even from a sweet, innocent little massage." He held his hands up as if to prove their purity. "Believe me, once you've felt the magical touch of these babies, you'll die in ecstasy. I am a sensual god."
Rogue rolled her eyes. "If you wanna." Did he want to? Ha!
Bobby rubbed his hands in anticipation and she turned her back to him, hugging her knees and propping her feet on one of her several sequenced pillows. She gathered her long, brunette tendrils of brown cinnamon and splayed the collective bunch across the front of her shoulder and over her right breast. Bobby placed tentative fingers on the bare lily-white patch of the back of her neck. Slowly, though, he eased into his ministrations with a fluid grace all his own. Not exactly the touch of a god, she mused, but wonderful in its own right. She tilted her head and groaned softly.
"That feels good," she moaned.
"Well dis is friendly," Remy said from where he stood in the hallway just outside her open door. Rogue gasped, rearing her head to face him.
"Remy!" She fought to keep her voice from rising. When had her heart started pounding like that?
He flashed a wide grin that did not reach his eyes. "Can I join de party?"
Bobby, still kneading Rogue's silken skin, replied casually, but not coolly. After all, there was no reason to be angry... yet. "Sure. Take a sit down, Cajun."
Rogue's eyes fluttered closed for a split-second. What was the matter with her? What did she care if Remy saw her getting a backrub from Bobby? She didn't. Yeah. She didn't.
Remy did not take Bobby up on his offer. "T'anks, but no t'anks. Just came by to see if de belle wanted... well, never mind. I see she's a li'l preoccupied at de moment." He winked at Rogue and smiled again at Bobby, this time making sure the blonde boy noticed the lack of genuineness in the act. Their eyes connected in an instantaneous, silent argument before both pairs lit up again and muttered polite good-byes to each other.
"Alraght," Rogue called after him, unaware of the exchange between the two men. "Good-naght, Remy."
Remy smiled one last time, pleasant this time for her sake, and spun on his heel, retreating from the sight of that boy groping his southern infatuation- whoa Remy, let's not get carried away. Mildly curious interest, yes, infatuation, well, let's just not got there. But saints in heaven, how could that girl be so naïve? No man just politely "offered" to give a backrub. I wonder which excuse he used. It better not have been one of mine. Sometimes the best remedy for pain is touch. Gawd, Remy only hoped she hadn't fallen for THAT one.
**
Jean hummed softly. The air was still, almost muggy, and she lay comfortable in a small rowboat she discovered on one of the far, hidden shores of the lake. Still tied close to the grassy banks, she climbed into it earlier that afternoon and settled into the boat as if it were the last place on earth she ever needed to be. The day was a hot, hazy gray, the sun only just peeking from behind an overcast, and Jean immediately grew tired under its heavy persuasion. Drowsy and heavy-lidded, she attempted to hum herself to sleep as her hands, draped over the sides, sipped in and out of the water as the boat rocked on the gentle waves.
Sensing someone approaching, she forced her eyes opened and scanned her close vicinity. Concentrating a bit harder, she recognized Logan's mental pattern. He immerged from the green and brown woods in front of her, a half smile playing on his lips.
"Hey you." She said, moving her arm to rest on her forehead.
"Hey yourself," he said, bending to pluck a blade of grass and clench it between his teeth. He fought to notice the cream pale of her long legs against the pale yellow of her shorts, but not really. He didn't expect to find her out here, but here she was just the same, and he supposed he could go for some company at the moment. "So, what lies have you conjured up for me, lately? Any?"
She smiled. "Ah yes, lies. No, I don't think I've given it much thought." She paused before adding. "Can't say I've given YOU much thought, to be totally truthful." Her tone was wry but Logan could tell she was playing at some sort of game in which she, no doubt, created the rules as she went along.
He decided, for the moment, to play along. "Hmm, I see. Should I say that I'm hurt to hear that?"
She shook her head. "You can say whatever you want."
"You don't want me to say whatever I want."
She cocked her head to the side. "No, I guess I don't. Besides, I thought you didn't GET hurt, remember?" He shrugged. "Or is that all true?" She stood, crossing to where he stood ankle deep and barefoot in the lake. "I'd imagine that healing ability must be... really something." She nearly purred. He scoffed.
"Yeah it's something."
Deciding to postpone the flirting games before things got out of hand in the middle of the woods, Jean suddenly grinned and her eyes glinted. "I see," her voice lacked the seductive quality she'd laced it with previously, and so Logan exhaled and slipped into friendly mode once more. "Well does this hurt?" She punched him in the chest, her small, balled fist ramming hard into but making zero impact on his broad, muscular upper body. He rolled his eyes. She feigned hurt.
"Ugh! Don't make fun!" She laughed, smacking him on the shoulder. He laughed harder. Quieting, she leaned closer to him until they were inches apart. Her breath tickled his nose. "Look at it this way: at least you'll be able to easily recover from embarrassment, I mean, with that super healing factor and all." She added in a honey-awed voice.
He glanced sideways before meeting her eyes again, his face etched with bewilderment. "Embarrassment from what?" He asked finally.
He went soaring through the air and landed into the middle of the lake with a significant splash. "That." When he resurfaced, he could hear Jean's melodious giggle echoing through the forest. She was the only woman he'd probably ever known that giggled for Christ-sakes. She shrugged when he glared at her. "I thought since we were both displaying our powers..." He swam to the banks and she held out a hand to assist. "And no funny stuff, mister. I'm really not in the mood to get wet, alright?" He yanked her in beside him, dunking her once and then letting her up. She gasped in waist-deep water, her mascara running black rivers down her cheeks.
"Who said I was?" He grinned wolfishly. They stood silent for a second, contemplating their next move. She splashed him once and stepped back onto dry land, wringing her long scarlet rope of soaking tresses.
"That was refreshing," she mumbled while squeezing her green tank of excess water. With that, she disappeared into the woods.
Still in the lake, Logan didn't watch her go. Instead, he reminded himself how fun his job was- he got to meet new and interesting people all the time. Yeah. Just fun.
**
Ororo splashed a yellow water-colored rose in the woman's hair. She added and added to her Venus with every solemn brushstroke: gray and violet eyes, long ink lashes, smooth, butterscotch skin. Candles flickered on the hardwood floor around her, permeating through the air and enveloping her attic room in a faint hint of vanilla and something Yankee called 'Wedding Day'. Rain tapped steadily on her sky light windows and she glanced up to marvel at the scattered raindrops splashing onto the glass before they burst in all their aqua blue glory.
She simply had to hear the lullaby of nature's drizzle when she stood in front of her canvas. Obviously, the other members of the mansion did not mind, for no one had approached her and asked her to alter the weather back to its 'regular' course. Apparently no one had scheduled an afternoon walk or outdoor baseball game on this fine day. Good. Let her paint.
She heard a car start outside and she cast a cursory glance out her window just in time to see a Ferrari's headlights flash on. Half caring, she meandered to the window, yellow in her hand and a paintbrush in the other. She watched Warren speed away. No doubt Warren- only he would own a car like that. And actually drive it somewhere as trivial as the nearby grocery store for a gallon of milk. That was kind of intriguing, in its own way. Could she grow to like that? Well, she didn't exactly HATE it, that's for sure. Nor did she hate the robin's egg blue his eyes became on brisk, summer evenings.
**
"Computer, clock in program hours for Gambit."
"Gambit: one hour and twelve minutes partaking in program: Omega Orange." The computer read back to him. He nodded, wiping the perspiration from his top lip. A little over an hour- that would do for today. He finally buckled down and started putting in a few extra hours in the Danger Room everyday so Cyclops would stop breathing down his neck.
He threw a towel around his neck and headed for the doors when the room shifted around him, robots lurking in the shadows and scurrying back and forth, their metal claws making a disturbingly real click-clack on the metal floors. He looked at the holograms and back at the doors. They opened to reveal his new favorite person in the mansion- Bobby Worthington.
"Oh! Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here." He said, his eyes getting big with surprise.
Remy smirked. "No problem, homme. I t'ink dat's what de monitors up dere are for, dough." He jerked a slender finger at the monitor booth." You know, just to make sure you don't come bargin' in on anyone's territory."
His deliberate choice of words didn't go unnoticed to Bobby, but he smiled nonetheless. "Yeah well, I didn't feel like trekking all the way up then down. I just figured that if I came knocking on someone's chamber door proper, I'd apologize and they'd forgive and forget." A pause. "And that was Poe if you were wondering."
Remy's eyebrows shot up in understanding, deciding not to let Bobby know that he was entirely familiar with Poe's work. "Ah, I see. So are we gonna stand here and chat like a couple of old hens or are we gonna play?"
Bobby shifted his weight to the other foot. "Play?"
"Capture de flag." Remy said. When Bobby nodded his consent, Remy repeated his words, a bit louder this time for the computer to hear it and assemble the program.
The sport was friendly at first, each shooting the other with mild blasts and getting in the occasional sucker-punch in the gut or point-kick in the chest. They continued like this for some time until Remy could bite his tongue no longer, when they were both sweating buckets and breathing haggardly.
"So, what's de deal wit' you and Rogue? Are you madly in love wit' each ot'er?" He asked, managing a charged Joker at Bobby's right shoulder as the blonde circled him on an ice ramp.
"What's it to ya'? Are YOU madly in love with each other?" He tumbled and ducked another of Remy's cards, this time coming back with a heavy spear of ice in the Cajun's right and left leg.
Remy sucked in a breath through his teeth. Immediately, he charged three more cards from his deck and let the energy slip from his fingers to the Ace, King, and Queen. "Naw, not'ing like dat. I was just curious, homme." He hurled the cards at Bobby just before he reached Remy's blue flag, guarded by a semi-threatening robotic soldier. The impact sent bobby to his knees.
"Jesus," he muttered, clutching his elbow and bicep. That one had hurt like a bitch. Remy tackled Bobby from behind, pinning him to the cold, steel ground. The simulation disappeared around them.
"Neh-eh-eh. You can't have it; not before I've even had a chance." They held challenging stares for a second, both understanding the other before Remy added, "at getting your flag, I mean."
"Yeah right," Bobby moaned, his chest tightening as Remy's knees gouged into his ribs. He could have asked Remy to move. He could have.
Remy slammed into the far wall, a stake of ice pinning him. He broke the ice and charged back at Bobby. The two men wrestled on the floor, tangling in a massive heap of anger and jealousy, neither noticing Ororo until a lightening bolt sent a significant chunk of metal crashing down on them, their bodies separating and sprawled weak on the floor next to each other.
"Ugh," Remy rubbed the back of his head and looked up into the goddess's menacing glare.
Bobby had the decency to look sheepish under her cool blue gaze.
"That could have quite possibly been the single most disgusting display of male ego I have ever been made witness to." And with that, plus a truly dismayed scoff, and she was gone.
**
"I'm really not a terrible person." Remy defended himself against Ororo as the two sat on a parlor couch later that evening, she pretending to skim a Vogue magazine. He sat facing her, his arm propped against the back of the couch, talking until he turned blue in the face trying to convince Ororo that he was really "not dat bad of a guy, once you get to know me."
"Mmm," she acknowledged half-heartedly, causing Remy to grow even more desperate.
"Really! Oh come on, why can't we be friends, eh? We're a lot alike, you and I." Remy said flippantly, taking this time to turn the television on and surf channels. He glanced at Ororo from the corner of his eye. She was indeed looking at him.
"Oh are we?" She asked, smothering an amused smile. HA! Who did this kid think he was? He was a real card, that's for sure. "And what, pray tell, makes us so similar?"
"Well, for starters, we're bot' natural born thie... osophical individuals." He winked. Her eyes grew at his implication.
"That is NOT what you were going to say, Mr. LeBeau!"
"Wasn't it? What was I going to say?" he asked innocently.
"You were going to say thieves." She replied bluntly.
He shrugged, "Perhaps. Why? Are you admitting to somet'ing?"
"Well I know what I've done in the past, and it's obvious what YOU'VE done in the past-"
"Why do you say dat?" He interrupted. "Why do you claim to know what I've done in de past?"
She rolled her eyes, again flipping another page in the magazine still resting on her lap but long abandoned. "Come now. All thieves can spot a fellow thief a mile away. I had hoped you'd have the decency to keep our shared knowledge to yourself and not bring it up, but I had a feeling you would."
"I just want to be friends." He grinned devilishly.
"Well in that case," she said, "friends would probably give this back." She opened her palm and Remy snatched his money clip from it. She laughed out loud.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny, Stormy." He shoved the gold clip back into his jean pocket. He never actually put any cash in it, but it was good to have. His only remaining possession from Louisiana; he kept it with him most of the time, "for de hell of it."
"And if we're returning t'ings, I suppose dis is only right." He held up a delicate gold chain, the onyx charm dangling on its end. She retrieved it and slapped his leg.
"Bastard," she said, clasping it back around her neck.
From his jean pocket and around her neck- no doubt about it, these two were professionals.
They regarded each other seriously for a moment, out of respect or who knows what. Finally he joked wryly, "We should start a club, neh?"
She nodded, smiling absently. Suddenly, she couldn't decide if she LIKED Remy or not. He was nice, a bit cocky, but nice... at first. Now, he was still nice, but he reminded her of things she wanted to put behind her- more than just stealing.
As if catching her thoughts direction, he said, "Don't sweat it 'Ro. It's just stealing, and it's over." He shrugged casually.
"Yes, I know. And I've done worse." She said quietly, wrapping the moment in a brief, black mood. Remy's smile wavered slightly.
"Me, too." He added just as quiet, and a silence commenced. It wasn't an awkward silence, simply one of understanding, mutual respect, as it was. Both were curious about the other's prowling past, but were unwilling to admit their own side of the looking glass. Fine with them; soon enough they would know. It would just take time. And now was now.
Remy swallowed pesky thoughts of Rogue and her... thing with Bobby, whatever the hell it was, and Ororo shoved thoughts of Warren and that undeniable connection they'd had to the back of her mind. They were both people that lived for the current, and currently, they were with each other.
**
Scott settled into the couch with his beer. He didn't drink beer often, it wasn't really his thing, but once in a blue moon, he tapped the Rockies so to speak. He only did it when he was nervous- he remembered drinking almost a whole case the night before asking Wanda to marry him, or upset- once when he and Wanda gotten into a fight because she was positive she heard him mumble that he thought the dress she was wearing made her look thirty pounds heavier, or anxious- Wanda's parents were due for a visit in a little less than a week. Scott tipped his silver can back. Yippee.
He heard someone walk up behind him and stop. He just knew it was Jean. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew.
"Why up so late, Summers?" She asked, nudging the back of his head a little with her hand. Scott almost wished she wouldn't move it. She did.
He shrugged, glancing behind him. "I'm not sure, really. Just didn't feel like sleeping."
"Oh I doubt that," she said, coming around so he could see her. "Few come into a library to try and stay awake." She looked at the shelves of books towering around her a little self-consciously.
"That's true." He acknowledged, crinkling the aluminum can in his fist a little. "But I'm not like most people." He grinned boyishly and Jean couldn't help but return the gesture. He was cute.
"I see you're looking at that chess board over there." He wasn't, but he was now. "Want to play a game real quick?"
"Real quick? I once played a game with Xavier that lasted three years!"
"It should take me about three minutes to beat you," she winked. He accepted the challenge.
Jean was white, and so she made her first move. A simple little pawn constructed from hand-carved wood ventured out into the battlefield. "What's on your mind, kid? You look like hell."
"Nothing," he said, moving his own pawn.
"Uh-huh," she said incredulously. "I mean really. I won't tell. Promise." She fastened an invisible zipper over her ruby lips and Scott's mouth formed a weak half smile. Unquestionably, she was adorable, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with admitting that. Men were allowed to appreciate beauty, even if it happened to not, gasp, be found in his wife ALL the time.
He sighed and for some reason, blossomed. "Wanda's parents are coming down next week and I know is all they're going to do is sneer at me, as I'm not worthy of their daughter and all, and then turn around and nag me about impregnating her so they can have a goddamned grandchild." He took another swig of Coors. "Fuck." He'd almost wished he hadn't said that last part, but the mood struck him, and by God, he said it. Who cared? Surely not her- she didn't.
Jean just continued to execute moves on the board and that was when Scott noticed that during his period of confession, she had managed to swipe a bishop and three pawns. Poor guys.
"I see," she said finally, leaning back and letting him decide how to regain what he'd lost on the board. "When I was sixteen, I was at a party. It was a good boys and girls party, none of the "bad" kids, really. There were even parents right upstairs, but we were having a good time."
"Uh-huh." Scott finished his beer.
"Well back then, I was really naïve, I mean, really naïve."
"More so than now?" Scott smiled.
"What?" He winked. "Anyways, we were all downstairs just dancing and stuff when this boy I knew pretty well asked me if I wanted a drink- Pete. He was so popular and I remember having a huge crush on him. I knew the punch was spiked, but I took it anyway. I didn't want to be the only girl that didn't drink. So we went out on the patio and we talked for a couple of hours out there. I was still on my first drink, but I think I was feeling a bit tipsy. I don't know really, I still haven't drank much to this day." How cute is that? Scott thought. Shut-up, Summers. "He started getting real close to me, and finally he had me backed against a wall, whispering in my ear. I got so excited that he was actually doing what I'd only heard other girls talk about. I guess I was pretty notorious for being the virgin in school so boys kind of steered clear of me when it came to that department. It was usually just a dinner and a movie and a goodnight kiss. Not that I had exactly encouraged anything further, but they could have at least made an attempt for crying out loud!"
Scott nodded, smiling. "Oh God, I think I know what's coming up, but go ahead."
"So there we were, me a bit drunk and he whispering sweet nothings in my ear when suddenly, I feel his fingers slip inside of me! I asked him what he was doing and he kept saying, "it's cool, it's cool." The junior class goody-good, I didn't know WHAT was cool and what wasn't so I believed him. I just kind of stood there and let him do it. First one, then two, and I didn't know what to think. I was a little afraid someone would come out and catch us but nobody did. Finally I asked him to stop. Not because I felt violated or anything, but because it just wasn't comfortable. He wasn't exactly getting me sopping wet like I think he might have hoped. So he stopped immediately and muttered a quick "sorry," blushing like the devil. Then I just laughed and went back into the party." Jean closed her eyes and grinned. "God, that was funny. I know it doesn't sound too funny, but it was. It was hilarious."
Scott laughed a little. "You're something else, Jean Grey."
"Ohh, my dad was furious when he found out. I know what you're thinking. I told my dad? Yup, I told my dad everything. I never even knew my mom, so my dad had to kind of act like both. I ran home and told him and he about went out and killed Pete. I calmed him down, though."
Scott swallowed, unsure of what to make of her little confession. "Don't get me wrong, this is all very interesting, but what's it got to do with Wanda's parents?"
Jean shrugged. "Nothing, but I bet you didn't think about them the whole five minutes it took me to explain that whole thing. See? I helped!"
He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you did." He was positive he was blushing. It wasn't every day a beautiful stranger told him about the time she first got fingered. "And I'm assuming this is true?"
"Yes, this is true." She said, and it was. "But now for seriousness."
Scott removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He replaced them. "No, let's not talk seriousness." He made a move with his queen, anywhere.
Jean nodded. "Alright," but it wasn't really all right. She was curious as to why Scott didn't wish to have children, but she'd let it slide. Some other time, she thought.
"Check mate," he said, placing his queen in one final position. His heart did a damned leap at the sight of her big blue eyes growing wide.
"Oh no!" She cried, clasping her hand over her red pout. "Damn," she muttered, calculating moves with her mind. She shrugged. "I thought I maybe had a chance, but I knew I didn't, not really. You could win a strategy battle in your sleep, not an un-sexy quality in a man," she leaned back in her chair.
Scott swallowed the lump in his throat. "Why do you do this to me?" He said so low she almost didn't hear it. Except she did.
But she ignored it, or chose to brush it off with a laugh, for which he was eternally grateful. "I can't believe it," and then added slow and purposeful, "your queen ruined my plan." She stood and Scott almost followed her movements with his wanton eyes but instead focused them on his black queen, standing victorious over the board. In chess, everyone knew, the king truly did nothing but be protected. The queen- she did everything. And when two queens battled, well, it was hell.
**
Rogue's toes were lined with the edge of the forty-story building. Sometimes, when it was very late like it was now, and she couldn't sleep, she would find herself at the top of New York skyscrapers like this and just peer over the edge, watching the busy city streets. Everyone down there had a purpose; everyone had to get somewhere, to a family, a home, a husband or wife. Rogue choked back tears in her throat at the thought of Caleb's soft black curls tickling her cheek when they would wake up every morning. Her eyelashes would flutter open and she'd just lie there and try to match his breathing, just because he was there and she was there and they were together.
Rogue shook her head, locks of brown tumbling in her face and dancing in the merciless wind. Sometimes, thoughts like that just came to her, memories she'd tried hard to bury inside of her. She knew she'd never be able to fully erase them, but finding his killer would no doubt help tremendously.
She didn't think about him too often anymore, but a memory like that would always resurface when she was on one of those buildings, so achingly close to heaven but still planted on God's green earth. Sick of thinking for one night, Rogue jumped.
And flew, and flew, and flew. The wind embraced her like a lover and suddenly there was no Remy, no Bobby, not even Caleb existed. Just her and earth and air.
**
The next morning, the sun flittered through Scott and Wanda's curtains like tiny diamonds cascading off of Wanda's hair and cheeks. Scott watched her for an extra second before her eyelids fluttered open and she pulled him down to kiss her full on the mouth.
"Morning," she whispered. Scott loved that- she whispered in the morning and at night.
"Morning," he rasped, realizing his throat was dry.
She yawned and settled into their down comforter. "We better start planning for my mom and dad's visit."
"What's to plan? I say we buy a nice round trip back to Florida."
She smacked his shoulder. "Scott! You're terrible!" He shrugged, his hand trailing down her stomach and back up under her nightshirt. "But you're also devastatingly sexy." She mumbled, taking his earlobe in her mouth and nibbling gently.
"Seriously, I'm not looking forward to their visit. Is all they do is reprimand me and pressure me into knocking you up. Christ, when we first started dating your dad told me if I went anywhere near between your thighs he'd castrate me. I swear to God, they hate me."
She pulled him close. "Aw, baby, they don't hate you. Why don't you try being a little nicer to daddy, hmm?"
"Nicer? I am nice!"
She kissed his mouth, he only partially responsive this time. "Don't worry about it, hun. Now where were we?" She kissed a trail down his neck. Scott should have expected as much. Fights with Wanda were short and few between. Not because she was a pushover, but because she didn't regard anything as overly serious. Growing up with the proverbial silver spoon jammed down her throat, it was only natural she should act this way. But sometimes, only sometimes though, it got on her husband's nerves. "Don't worry, hun." "Don't think about it, Scott." Pretend it doesn't exist Scott.
"I can't do this," he said against her mouth. She released him as he stood and tugged on a pair of sweats.
"What?"
"I can't do this," he repeated, gentler this time. "I have an early Danger Room meeting scheduled. I'm sorry, babe." He leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth and then he was out the door.
Wanda fell back onto their bed. What the hell?
A/N
Hi Hi Hi there! S'Okay, what'd everyone think? OH! And you gotta tell me, I just gotta know, who do you think the Heartbreaker is? I'm definitely going to be mentioning that bit of the story more in the next chapter. Bear with me, droogies!
Love or hate, REVIEW!
Bobby scribbled furiously onto the pad of paper with his black ink pen. Last week had been his brother Warren's turn to write their father and note their progress at the 'school,' which made this Tuesday his week. He didn't even know half of what he wrote: we're becoming rather good in tennis, Warren is literally soaring to new heights, and we're both learning more and more everyday in the business tactics field- good God, did this place even HAVE a tennis court?
Bobby chuckled dryly at the thought and shook his head. Fuck it, he thought, and scrawled a quick "Love, Robert" on the bottom and stuffed it into an envelope. His tongue was peeking from his mouth to moisten the adhesive when he heard it: a slight muffled whimpering coming from a few doors down the hall from his own open mahogany giant. Standing, he tossed the envelope onto his desk and followed the smothered sobs.
His tracking found him at Rogue's door. Bobby didn't know the woman well, but enough to stand a bit straighter in her presence and roll his sleeve up a tad to make sure his Rolex didn't go unnoticed. It was stupid, he knew; girls don't usually date a guy for his money, and if they did they're not worth the green anyway, but it couldn't hurt. But with Rogue it seemed completely foolish. She obviously had no interest whatsoever in his bank accounts, which he considered could be the reason he smiled a little more in her presence.
But she didn't sound like she wanted to see anyone smiling at the moment. He heard her hiccupped cries from in her room and his face scrunched in sympathy as he walked through the hall and down the stairway.
He soon returned with a silver platter in hand, a steaming cup of cocoa positioned in the center. What if she's hungry, he thought. Balancing the tray with a trembling hand, he fumbled into his pocket with the other and retrieved a small pack of Winter Fresh gum. Yeah, he thought, tossing it onto the tray beside the mug. Satisfied, he knocked twice and straightened. As her footsteps neared, he suddenly became overwhelmed with the sense that this was a very bad idea. Whipping his head left, then right in a desperate search for escape but finding none, he froze. "Who is it?" She choked out from behind the door. Bobby ran. He fled four feet, slapped his forehead, clutched the tray threatening to tip and crash to the ground, pivoted, and raced back to her door just in time to see her open it and smile. "Hi, Rogue," he forced out, breathless.
"Hah, Bobby." Her brows were knitted in perplexity but her eyes were red and swollen just a tad. "Whatchya' got there, boy?"
He bowed to stare at the tray as if it were his first time noticing it as well. "Oh, what? This? Oh, yeah, um, actually," he chuckled. "You see, the thing is, I was in my room, and I sorta heard you." His shoulders deflated, defeated. "I heard you crying and so... I made you cocoa." He picked up the pack of Winter Fresh. "And some gum. Well, I didn't MAKE the gum, but I got you gum." He added a bit helplessly.
She leaned against the doorframe. After a few heavy, silent seconds, she laughed and stepped aside, widening the entrance. "Well if yah come bearin' gifts, by all means, come on in!" She said brightly, ushering him inside. He smiled, shuffling into the room and offering her drink.
An awkward pause and then, "Is it good? I wasn't sure if you liked marshmallows or not so I just left them out... and ate them myself."
She nodded over the brim, sipping slowly. "It's wondahful."
Thanks," he grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It's an old recipe- family secret, actually."
"Really?"
"Yeah. My aunt's recipe; perhaps you've heard of her: Swiss Miss?"
Rogue laughed, for real this time. She was relieved Bobby didn't ask her any questions. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle questions just yet. Except maybe one. "Want a backrub?"
She met his eyes. "What?"
"I'm not trying to be slick or anything, it's just that sometimes, the best medicine is touch, even from a sweet, innocent little massage." He held his hands up as if to prove their purity. "Believe me, once you've felt the magical touch of these babies, you'll die in ecstasy. I am a sensual god."
Rogue rolled her eyes. "If you wanna." Did he want to? Ha!
Bobby rubbed his hands in anticipation and she turned her back to him, hugging her knees and propping her feet on one of her several sequenced pillows. She gathered her long, brunette tendrils of brown cinnamon and splayed the collective bunch across the front of her shoulder and over her right breast. Bobby placed tentative fingers on the bare lily-white patch of the back of her neck. Slowly, though, he eased into his ministrations with a fluid grace all his own. Not exactly the touch of a god, she mused, but wonderful in its own right. She tilted her head and groaned softly.
"That feels good," she moaned.
"Well dis is friendly," Remy said from where he stood in the hallway just outside her open door. Rogue gasped, rearing her head to face him.
"Remy!" She fought to keep her voice from rising. When had her heart started pounding like that?
He flashed a wide grin that did not reach his eyes. "Can I join de party?"
Bobby, still kneading Rogue's silken skin, replied casually, but not coolly. After all, there was no reason to be angry... yet. "Sure. Take a sit down, Cajun."
Rogue's eyes fluttered closed for a split-second. What was the matter with her? What did she care if Remy saw her getting a backrub from Bobby? She didn't. Yeah. She didn't.
Remy did not take Bobby up on his offer. "T'anks, but no t'anks. Just came by to see if de belle wanted... well, never mind. I see she's a li'l preoccupied at de moment." He winked at Rogue and smiled again at Bobby, this time making sure the blonde boy noticed the lack of genuineness in the act. Their eyes connected in an instantaneous, silent argument before both pairs lit up again and muttered polite good-byes to each other.
"Alraght," Rogue called after him, unaware of the exchange between the two men. "Good-naght, Remy."
Remy smiled one last time, pleasant this time for her sake, and spun on his heel, retreating from the sight of that boy groping his southern infatuation- whoa Remy, let's not get carried away. Mildly curious interest, yes, infatuation, well, let's just not got there. But saints in heaven, how could that girl be so naïve? No man just politely "offered" to give a backrub. I wonder which excuse he used. It better not have been one of mine. Sometimes the best remedy for pain is touch. Gawd, Remy only hoped she hadn't fallen for THAT one.
**
Jean hummed softly. The air was still, almost muggy, and she lay comfortable in a small rowboat she discovered on one of the far, hidden shores of the lake. Still tied close to the grassy banks, she climbed into it earlier that afternoon and settled into the boat as if it were the last place on earth she ever needed to be. The day was a hot, hazy gray, the sun only just peeking from behind an overcast, and Jean immediately grew tired under its heavy persuasion. Drowsy and heavy-lidded, she attempted to hum herself to sleep as her hands, draped over the sides, sipped in and out of the water as the boat rocked on the gentle waves.
Sensing someone approaching, she forced her eyes opened and scanned her close vicinity. Concentrating a bit harder, she recognized Logan's mental pattern. He immerged from the green and brown woods in front of her, a half smile playing on his lips.
"Hey you." She said, moving her arm to rest on her forehead.
"Hey yourself," he said, bending to pluck a blade of grass and clench it between his teeth. He fought to notice the cream pale of her long legs against the pale yellow of her shorts, but not really. He didn't expect to find her out here, but here she was just the same, and he supposed he could go for some company at the moment. "So, what lies have you conjured up for me, lately? Any?"
She smiled. "Ah yes, lies. No, I don't think I've given it much thought." She paused before adding. "Can't say I've given YOU much thought, to be totally truthful." Her tone was wry but Logan could tell she was playing at some sort of game in which she, no doubt, created the rules as she went along.
He decided, for the moment, to play along. "Hmm, I see. Should I say that I'm hurt to hear that?"
She shook her head. "You can say whatever you want."
"You don't want me to say whatever I want."
She cocked her head to the side. "No, I guess I don't. Besides, I thought you didn't GET hurt, remember?" He shrugged. "Or is that all true?" She stood, crossing to where he stood ankle deep and barefoot in the lake. "I'd imagine that healing ability must be... really something." She nearly purred. He scoffed.
"Yeah it's something."
Deciding to postpone the flirting games before things got out of hand in the middle of the woods, Jean suddenly grinned and her eyes glinted. "I see," her voice lacked the seductive quality she'd laced it with previously, and so Logan exhaled and slipped into friendly mode once more. "Well does this hurt?" She punched him in the chest, her small, balled fist ramming hard into but making zero impact on his broad, muscular upper body. He rolled his eyes. She feigned hurt.
"Ugh! Don't make fun!" She laughed, smacking him on the shoulder. He laughed harder. Quieting, she leaned closer to him until they were inches apart. Her breath tickled his nose. "Look at it this way: at least you'll be able to easily recover from embarrassment, I mean, with that super healing factor and all." She added in a honey-awed voice.
He glanced sideways before meeting her eyes again, his face etched with bewilderment. "Embarrassment from what?" He asked finally.
He went soaring through the air and landed into the middle of the lake with a significant splash. "That." When he resurfaced, he could hear Jean's melodious giggle echoing through the forest. She was the only woman he'd probably ever known that giggled for Christ-sakes. She shrugged when he glared at her. "I thought since we were both displaying our powers..." He swam to the banks and she held out a hand to assist. "And no funny stuff, mister. I'm really not in the mood to get wet, alright?" He yanked her in beside him, dunking her once and then letting her up. She gasped in waist-deep water, her mascara running black rivers down her cheeks.
"Who said I was?" He grinned wolfishly. They stood silent for a second, contemplating their next move. She splashed him once and stepped back onto dry land, wringing her long scarlet rope of soaking tresses.
"That was refreshing," she mumbled while squeezing her green tank of excess water. With that, she disappeared into the woods.
Still in the lake, Logan didn't watch her go. Instead, he reminded himself how fun his job was- he got to meet new and interesting people all the time. Yeah. Just fun.
**
Ororo splashed a yellow water-colored rose in the woman's hair. She added and added to her Venus with every solemn brushstroke: gray and violet eyes, long ink lashes, smooth, butterscotch skin. Candles flickered on the hardwood floor around her, permeating through the air and enveloping her attic room in a faint hint of vanilla and something Yankee called 'Wedding Day'. Rain tapped steadily on her sky light windows and she glanced up to marvel at the scattered raindrops splashing onto the glass before they burst in all their aqua blue glory.
She simply had to hear the lullaby of nature's drizzle when she stood in front of her canvas. Obviously, the other members of the mansion did not mind, for no one had approached her and asked her to alter the weather back to its 'regular' course. Apparently no one had scheduled an afternoon walk or outdoor baseball game on this fine day. Good. Let her paint.
She heard a car start outside and she cast a cursory glance out her window just in time to see a Ferrari's headlights flash on. Half caring, she meandered to the window, yellow in her hand and a paintbrush in the other. She watched Warren speed away. No doubt Warren- only he would own a car like that. And actually drive it somewhere as trivial as the nearby grocery store for a gallon of milk. That was kind of intriguing, in its own way. Could she grow to like that? Well, she didn't exactly HATE it, that's for sure. Nor did she hate the robin's egg blue his eyes became on brisk, summer evenings.
**
"Computer, clock in program hours for Gambit."
"Gambit: one hour and twelve minutes partaking in program: Omega Orange." The computer read back to him. He nodded, wiping the perspiration from his top lip. A little over an hour- that would do for today. He finally buckled down and started putting in a few extra hours in the Danger Room everyday so Cyclops would stop breathing down his neck.
He threw a towel around his neck and headed for the doors when the room shifted around him, robots lurking in the shadows and scurrying back and forth, their metal claws making a disturbingly real click-clack on the metal floors. He looked at the holograms and back at the doors. They opened to reveal his new favorite person in the mansion- Bobby Worthington.
"Oh! Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here." He said, his eyes getting big with surprise.
Remy smirked. "No problem, homme. I t'ink dat's what de monitors up dere are for, dough." He jerked a slender finger at the monitor booth." You know, just to make sure you don't come bargin' in on anyone's territory."
His deliberate choice of words didn't go unnoticed to Bobby, but he smiled nonetheless. "Yeah well, I didn't feel like trekking all the way up then down. I just figured that if I came knocking on someone's chamber door proper, I'd apologize and they'd forgive and forget." A pause. "And that was Poe if you were wondering."
Remy's eyebrows shot up in understanding, deciding not to let Bobby know that he was entirely familiar with Poe's work. "Ah, I see. So are we gonna stand here and chat like a couple of old hens or are we gonna play?"
Bobby shifted his weight to the other foot. "Play?"
"Capture de flag." Remy said. When Bobby nodded his consent, Remy repeated his words, a bit louder this time for the computer to hear it and assemble the program.
The sport was friendly at first, each shooting the other with mild blasts and getting in the occasional sucker-punch in the gut or point-kick in the chest. They continued like this for some time until Remy could bite his tongue no longer, when they were both sweating buckets and breathing haggardly.
"So, what's de deal wit' you and Rogue? Are you madly in love wit' each ot'er?" He asked, managing a charged Joker at Bobby's right shoulder as the blonde circled him on an ice ramp.
"What's it to ya'? Are YOU madly in love with each other?" He tumbled and ducked another of Remy's cards, this time coming back with a heavy spear of ice in the Cajun's right and left leg.
Remy sucked in a breath through his teeth. Immediately, he charged three more cards from his deck and let the energy slip from his fingers to the Ace, King, and Queen. "Naw, not'ing like dat. I was just curious, homme." He hurled the cards at Bobby just before he reached Remy's blue flag, guarded by a semi-threatening robotic soldier. The impact sent bobby to his knees.
"Jesus," he muttered, clutching his elbow and bicep. That one had hurt like a bitch. Remy tackled Bobby from behind, pinning him to the cold, steel ground. The simulation disappeared around them.
"Neh-eh-eh. You can't have it; not before I've even had a chance." They held challenging stares for a second, both understanding the other before Remy added, "at getting your flag, I mean."
"Yeah right," Bobby moaned, his chest tightening as Remy's knees gouged into his ribs. He could have asked Remy to move. He could have.
Remy slammed into the far wall, a stake of ice pinning him. He broke the ice and charged back at Bobby. The two men wrestled on the floor, tangling in a massive heap of anger and jealousy, neither noticing Ororo until a lightening bolt sent a significant chunk of metal crashing down on them, their bodies separating and sprawled weak on the floor next to each other.
"Ugh," Remy rubbed the back of his head and looked up into the goddess's menacing glare.
Bobby had the decency to look sheepish under her cool blue gaze.
"That could have quite possibly been the single most disgusting display of male ego I have ever been made witness to." And with that, plus a truly dismayed scoff, and she was gone.
**
"I'm really not a terrible person." Remy defended himself against Ororo as the two sat on a parlor couch later that evening, she pretending to skim a Vogue magazine. He sat facing her, his arm propped against the back of the couch, talking until he turned blue in the face trying to convince Ororo that he was really "not dat bad of a guy, once you get to know me."
"Mmm," she acknowledged half-heartedly, causing Remy to grow even more desperate.
"Really! Oh come on, why can't we be friends, eh? We're a lot alike, you and I." Remy said flippantly, taking this time to turn the television on and surf channels. He glanced at Ororo from the corner of his eye. She was indeed looking at him.
"Oh are we?" She asked, smothering an amused smile. HA! Who did this kid think he was? He was a real card, that's for sure. "And what, pray tell, makes us so similar?"
"Well, for starters, we're bot' natural born thie... osophical individuals." He winked. Her eyes grew at his implication.
"That is NOT what you were going to say, Mr. LeBeau!"
"Wasn't it? What was I going to say?" he asked innocently.
"You were going to say thieves." She replied bluntly.
He shrugged, "Perhaps. Why? Are you admitting to somet'ing?"
"Well I know what I've done in the past, and it's obvious what YOU'VE done in the past-"
"Why do you say dat?" He interrupted. "Why do you claim to know what I've done in de past?"
She rolled her eyes, again flipping another page in the magazine still resting on her lap but long abandoned. "Come now. All thieves can spot a fellow thief a mile away. I had hoped you'd have the decency to keep our shared knowledge to yourself and not bring it up, but I had a feeling you would."
"I just want to be friends." He grinned devilishly.
"Well in that case," she said, "friends would probably give this back." She opened her palm and Remy snatched his money clip from it. She laughed out loud.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny, Stormy." He shoved the gold clip back into his jean pocket. He never actually put any cash in it, but it was good to have. His only remaining possession from Louisiana; he kept it with him most of the time, "for de hell of it."
"And if we're returning t'ings, I suppose dis is only right." He held up a delicate gold chain, the onyx charm dangling on its end. She retrieved it and slapped his leg.
"Bastard," she said, clasping it back around her neck.
From his jean pocket and around her neck- no doubt about it, these two were professionals.
They regarded each other seriously for a moment, out of respect or who knows what. Finally he joked wryly, "We should start a club, neh?"
She nodded, smiling absently. Suddenly, she couldn't decide if she LIKED Remy or not. He was nice, a bit cocky, but nice... at first. Now, he was still nice, but he reminded her of things she wanted to put behind her- more than just stealing.
As if catching her thoughts direction, he said, "Don't sweat it 'Ro. It's just stealing, and it's over." He shrugged casually.
"Yes, I know. And I've done worse." She said quietly, wrapping the moment in a brief, black mood. Remy's smile wavered slightly.
"Me, too." He added just as quiet, and a silence commenced. It wasn't an awkward silence, simply one of understanding, mutual respect, as it was. Both were curious about the other's prowling past, but were unwilling to admit their own side of the looking glass. Fine with them; soon enough they would know. It would just take time. And now was now.
Remy swallowed pesky thoughts of Rogue and her... thing with Bobby, whatever the hell it was, and Ororo shoved thoughts of Warren and that undeniable connection they'd had to the back of her mind. They were both people that lived for the current, and currently, they were with each other.
**
Scott settled into the couch with his beer. He didn't drink beer often, it wasn't really his thing, but once in a blue moon, he tapped the Rockies so to speak. He only did it when he was nervous- he remembered drinking almost a whole case the night before asking Wanda to marry him, or upset- once when he and Wanda gotten into a fight because she was positive she heard him mumble that he thought the dress she was wearing made her look thirty pounds heavier, or anxious- Wanda's parents were due for a visit in a little less than a week. Scott tipped his silver can back. Yippee.
He heard someone walk up behind him and stop. He just knew it was Jean. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew.
"Why up so late, Summers?" She asked, nudging the back of his head a little with her hand. Scott almost wished she wouldn't move it. She did.
He shrugged, glancing behind him. "I'm not sure, really. Just didn't feel like sleeping."
"Oh I doubt that," she said, coming around so he could see her. "Few come into a library to try and stay awake." She looked at the shelves of books towering around her a little self-consciously.
"That's true." He acknowledged, crinkling the aluminum can in his fist a little. "But I'm not like most people." He grinned boyishly and Jean couldn't help but return the gesture. He was cute.
"I see you're looking at that chess board over there." He wasn't, but he was now. "Want to play a game real quick?"
"Real quick? I once played a game with Xavier that lasted three years!"
"It should take me about three minutes to beat you," she winked. He accepted the challenge.
Jean was white, and so she made her first move. A simple little pawn constructed from hand-carved wood ventured out into the battlefield. "What's on your mind, kid? You look like hell."
"Nothing," he said, moving his own pawn.
"Uh-huh," she said incredulously. "I mean really. I won't tell. Promise." She fastened an invisible zipper over her ruby lips and Scott's mouth formed a weak half smile. Unquestionably, she was adorable, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with admitting that. Men were allowed to appreciate beauty, even if it happened to not, gasp, be found in his wife ALL the time.
He sighed and for some reason, blossomed. "Wanda's parents are coming down next week and I know is all they're going to do is sneer at me, as I'm not worthy of their daughter and all, and then turn around and nag me about impregnating her so they can have a goddamned grandchild." He took another swig of Coors. "Fuck." He'd almost wished he hadn't said that last part, but the mood struck him, and by God, he said it. Who cared? Surely not her- she didn't.
Jean just continued to execute moves on the board and that was when Scott noticed that during his period of confession, she had managed to swipe a bishop and three pawns. Poor guys.
"I see," she said finally, leaning back and letting him decide how to regain what he'd lost on the board. "When I was sixteen, I was at a party. It was a good boys and girls party, none of the "bad" kids, really. There were even parents right upstairs, but we were having a good time."
"Uh-huh." Scott finished his beer.
"Well back then, I was really naïve, I mean, really naïve."
"More so than now?" Scott smiled.
"What?" He winked. "Anyways, we were all downstairs just dancing and stuff when this boy I knew pretty well asked me if I wanted a drink- Pete. He was so popular and I remember having a huge crush on him. I knew the punch was spiked, but I took it anyway. I didn't want to be the only girl that didn't drink. So we went out on the patio and we talked for a couple of hours out there. I was still on my first drink, but I think I was feeling a bit tipsy. I don't know really, I still haven't drank much to this day." How cute is that? Scott thought. Shut-up, Summers. "He started getting real close to me, and finally he had me backed against a wall, whispering in my ear. I got so excited that he was actually doing what I'd only heard other girls talk about. I guess I was pretty notorious for being the virgin in school so boys kind of steered clear of me when it came to that department. It was usually just a dinner and a movie and a goodnight kiss. Not that I had exactly encouraged anything further, but they could have at least made an attempt for crying out loud!"
Scott nodded, smiling. "Oh God, I think I know what's coming up, but go ahead."
"So there we were, me a bit drunk and he whispering sweet nothings in my ear when suddenly, I feel his fingers slip inside of me! I asked him what he was doing and he kept saying, "it's cool, it's cool." The junior class goody-good, I didn't know WHAT was cool and what wasn't so I believed him. I just kind of stood there and let him do it. First one, then two, and I didn't know what to think. I was a little afraid someone would come out and catch us but nobody did. Finally I asked him to stop. Not because I felt violated or anything, but because it just wasn't comfortable. He wasn't exactly getting me sopping wet like I think he might have hoped. So he stopped immediately and muttered a quick "sorry," blushing like the devil. Then I just laughed and went back into the party." Jean closed her eyes and grinned. "God, that was funny. I know it doesn't sound too funny, but it was. It was hilarious."
Scott laughed a little. "You're something else, Jean Grey."
"Ohh, my dad was furious when he found out. I know what you're thinking. I told my dad? Yup, I told my dad everything. I never even knew my mom, so my dad had to kind of act like both. I ran home and told him and he about went out and killed Pete. I calmed him down, though."
Scott swallowed, unsure of what to make of her little confession. "Don't get me wrong, this is all very interesting, but what's it got to do with Wanda's parents?"
Jean shrugged. "Nothing, but I bet you didn't think about them the whole five minutes it took me to explain that whole thing. See? I helped!"
He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you did." He was positive he was blushing. It wasn't every day a beautiful stranger told him about the time she first got fingered. "And I'm assuming this is true?"
"Yes, this is true." She said, and it was. "But now for seriousness."
Scott removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He replaced them. "No, let's not talk seriousness." He made a move with his queen, anywhere.
Jean nodded. "Alright," but it wasn't really all right. She was curious as to why Scott didn't wish to have children, but she'd let it slide. Some other time, she thought.
"Check mate," he said, placing his queen in one final position. His heart did a damned leap at the sight of her big blue eyes growing wide.
"Oh no!" She cried, clasping her hand over her red pout. "Damn," she muttered, calculating moves with her mind. She shrugged. "I thought I maybe had a chance, but I knew I didn't, not really. You could win a strategy battle in your sleep, not an un-sexy quality in a man," she leaned back in her chair.
Scott swallowed the lump in his throat. "Why do you do this to me?" He said so low she almost didn't hear it. Except she did.
But she ignored it, or chose to brush it off with a laugh, for which he was eternally grateful. "I can't believe it," and then added slow and purposeful, "your queen ruined my plan." She stood and Scott almost followed her movements with his wanton eyes but instead focused them on his black queen, standing victorious over the board. In chess, everyone knew, the king truly did nothing but be protected. The queen- she did everything. And when two queens battled, well, it was hell.
**
Rogue's toes were lined with the edge of the forty-story building. Sometimes, when it was very late like it was now, and she couldn't sleep, she would find herself at the top of New York skyscrapers like this and just peer over the edge, watching the busy city streets. Everyone down there had a purpose; everyone had to get somewhere, to a family, a home, a husband or wife. Rogue choked back tears in her throat at the thought of Caleb's soft black curls tickling her cheek when they would wake up every morning. Her eyelashes would flutter open and she'd just lie there and try to match his breathing, just because he was there and she was there and they were together.
Rogue shook her head, locks of brown tumbling in her face and dancing in the merciless wind. Sometimes, thoughts like that just came to her, memories she'd tried hard to bury inside of her. She knew she'd never be able to fully erase them, but finding his killer would no doubt help tremendously.
She didn't think about him too often anymore, but a memory like that would always resurface when she was on one of those buildings, so achingly close to heaven but still planted on God's green earth. Sick of thinking for one night, Rogue jumped.
And flew, and flew, and flew. The wind embraced her like a lover and suddenly there was no Remy, no Bobby, not even Caleb existed. Just her and earth and air.
**
The next morning, the sun flittered through Scott and Wanda's curtains like tiny diamonds cascading off of Wanda's hair and cheeks. Scott watched her for an extra second before her eyelids fluttered open and she pulled him down to kiss her full on the mouth.
"Morning," she whispered. Scott loved that- she whispered in the morning and at night.
"Morning," he rasped, realizing his throat was dry.
She yawned and settled into their down comforter. "We better start planning for my mom and dad's visit."
"What's to plan? I say we buy a nice round trip back to Florida."
She smacked his shoulder. "Scott! You're terrible!" He shrugged, his hand trailing down her stomach and back up under her nightshirt. "But you're also devastatingly sexy." She mumbled, taking his earlobe in her mouth and nibbling gently.
"Seriously, I'm not looking forward to their visit. Is all they do is reprimand me and pressure me into knocking you up. Christ, when we first started dating your dad told me if I went anywhere near between your thighs he'd castrate me. I swear to God, they hate me."
She pulled him close. "Aw, baby, they don't hate you. Why don't you try being a little nicer to daddy, hmm?"
"Nicer? I am nice!"
She kissed his mouth, he only partially responsive this time. "Don't worry about it, hun. Now where were we?" She kissed a trail down his neck. Scott should have expected as much. Fights with Wanda were short and few between. Not because she was a pushover, but because she didn't regard anything as overly serious. Growing up with the proverbial silver spoon jammed down her throat, it was only natural she should act this way. But sometimes, only sometimes though, it got on her husband's nerves. "Don't worry, hun." "Don't think about it, Scott." Pretend it doesn't exist Scott.
"I can't do this," he said against her mouth. She released him as he stood and tugged on a pair of sweats.
"What?"
"I can't do this," he repeated, gentler this time. "I have an early Danger Room meeting scheduled. I'm sorry, babe." He leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth and then he was out the door.
Wanda fell back onto their bed. What the hell?
A/N
Hi Hi Hi there! S'Okay, what'd everyone think? OH! And you gotta tell me, I just gotta know, who do you think the Heartbreaker is? I'm definitely going to be mentioning that bit of the story more in the next chapter. Bear with me, droogies!
Love or hate, REVIEW!