AN: And here we have it, Rogue and Magneto's attempt at a normal, casual date. It goes better than you might think. I hope y'all enjoy, and pardon for my not answering all your reviews personally. I'm in a rush to get this posted before a tedious work event. I appreciate everyone's feedback so much, though. Thank you!

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Chapter 22

Rogue checked her appearance in the mirror for what had to be the fiftieth time, pulling with obvious agitation on the lavender shirt she was wearing. She really needed to leave her room and go downstairs, but she was…

I ain't nervous. I'm just bein' a little late, because you're supposed to do that on dates.

She figured she looked pretty enough; she'd left off the majority of her usual make-up on Kitty's recommendation, but she'd left her hair down because she didn't want to look like she was trying too hard to impress him.

Rogue wasn't even sure she liked Magneto enough to even want to impress him. Erik, she corrected herself firmly, finally turning away from the mirror to leave the room. You ain't calling him Magneto on a date.

She didn't pass anyone in the hallway, which was good; she wasn't in the mood to explain where it was she was going, and with whom. Her heart was hammering loudly in her chest, and her mouth was dry.

This was ridiculous, really, considering what she and Erik had done together. She really shouldn't be nervous about being around him. And maybe she wouldn't be, if she were going to go lay beneath him while he—

She took a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her skirt, forcing herself to stop thinking about that as she went down the stairs. He was waiting for her at the bottom, though his back was to her as he looked out of the window pane flanking the door, hands in his pockets.

He turned around as she reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes moving over her slowly. Rogue felt herself flush a little at the brief flash of heat she saw in his eyes. "You look very nice," he said quietly, and she could detect nothing in his expression that suggested he wasn't telling the truth.

"Thanks," she said, swallowing. "So—so do you," she said truthfully, because he really did look nice. He was nicely dressed in black slacks and a black sweater, with a wine-red shirt underneath. The contrast with his pale hair and eyes was striking. He was very handsome.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of pleasure at the thought of going somewhere with him as his date. He did that to her, made her both wary and excited to be around him. She hadn't lied when she'd compared him to a panther. She sort of wanted to pet him.

"Are you ready?" He sounded amused, like he knew what she was thinking. She resisted the urge to glare at him—she was trying to be nice, after all—and nodded.

They drove downtown, both of them mostly quiet, and he parked the car deftly in a parallel parking spot. Rogue was impressed. "I can't ever do that."

"Yes, well, I have the advantage of not needing to look out of the mirror to know where the other car is," he said, switching off the ignition. "Also, if I need more space, I can always nudge the other cars around a bit."

"It must be nice to have a power that's actually practical," she said, rather envious as he locked the doors without looking back. He hadn't even needed a key.

He stared down at her, his eyes intense. "Your gift could be practical if you'd learn to use it. It's simply untapped potential at the moment." He held out his arm for her, and, surprised by his gesture, she placed her gloved hand on his arm before she could talk herself out of doing so.

Rogue didn't say anything to his words, but she thought about it. Was he right? Could she do more with her gift than just temporarily steal powers from other mutants? What could she possibly do that would be as useful—and harmless—as locking a car door?

He smiled down at her, but there was something dark behind it that made her look away. She felt the muscles of his arm tense slightly beneath her fingers, but he ushered her into the restaurant without another word.

During dinner, they had their longest, most amicable conversation to date, and she was slightly surprised to find he was a good conversationalist. They stayed away from dangerous topics and concentrated mostly on her, which she found flattering but also a little disconcerting. She was also finding it hard to stop staring at him—when he was in good humor, he was almost frighteningly charismatic.

Every now and then, she'd catch a glimpse of something hot in his gaze as he looked at her across the table, and it would make her shiver.

Over dessert, the couple at the table next to them began to debate the Mutant Registration Act, and she and Erik both fell silent as they listened. The woman's arguments were along the lines of "saving the world from crazy mutants like that one in Egypt, or that Magneto," and Rogue looked at him, her eyes wide.

He merely rolled his and turned his attention back to his dessert. "Do you see why we are the dominant species, Anna-Marie? This woman is claiming I am the reason we should pass this bill, and she hasn't even the sense to know I'm sitting right next to her."

"Maybe she hasn't seen you," Rogue murmured, her heart racing. She wanted to think it was in fear.

"Watch," he murmured, and stood up. She half-rose from her seat, but found she couldn't move, as there was a distinct tug on the zipper of her skirt keeping her motionless. Narrowing her eyes, she had no choice but to sink back down in her seat.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Erik said politely, his hands his pockets. He smiled benignly. "Do you have the time?"

The woman smiled up at him and told him.

"Thank you," Erik responded, inclining his head to her graciously. "I appreciate it very much." With that, he returned to his seat across from Rogue, and held his finger up to his lips.

"I do so appreciate good manners," the woman said to her companion. "Nowadays, young children just barge up and ask 'Do you know what time it is?' in the rudest manner possible. They could learn something from that nice man."

Erik smirked at her. "See?"

"There are plenty of stupid mutants," Rogue informed him bluntly, pointing her spoon at him. "You know it as well as I do."

"Indeed I do." He leaned back in his seat, gazing at her thoughtfully. "I heard you at dinner, Anna-Marie, the other night. You don't think there should be a Registration Act, either, do you?"

She toyed with her spoon in her chocolate mousse, though she knew it was poor table manners to do so.

"Admitting I'm right about that doesn't make you one of my Acolytes," he murmured, obviously amused. "I heard what you said."

Rogue glared at him. "Just because I don't think paradin' around with a bunch of paper signs is gonna do any good don't mean I think it's a bad idea."

"No, it doesn't." He smiled at her infuriatingly. "But you do think it's a bad idea. Let's not pretend like you don't, Anna-Marie."

His arrogance was both compelling and annoying. "Fine. I don't think it's a good idea. They're gonna find out about me and put me somewhere for 'my own safety' or somethin'." Her accent thickened as she angered further. "I don't need to be saved from myself."

"Of course you don't," he urged her, his voice lowered. "These people would lock us up because they fear us, and nothing will ever change that. No matter what they tell you this so-called policy is designed to do, never forget it's because they know they are a dying breed."

Rogue was finding it hard to breathe as he spoke, his chill eyes lit with the fire of complete and utter conviction. "Erik," she said quietly, frightened by the intensity he was radiating, "I don't—you're not—they just don't understand."

"I see. So we are all to be locked up and exterminated until they do? Do you know what happened to me as a child?"

She nodded slowly, her stomach twisting with nerves. "Of course. I've seen your memories, remember?"

"Yes. And you watch the news, do you not? Have you seen some great understanding rise to take the place of bitterness and hatred toward the Jewish people? Can you tell me it doesn't still exist?"

"People hate a lot of things," Rogue said slowly. "We will never live in a perfect world."

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his own. "That is exactly why we must fight, do you not see?" He seemed frustrated. "Charles has this idea that humanity will wake up one day and think we're acceptable if we prove ourselves useful. As if we should have to prove anything to them," he hissed, eyes narrowed.

"Erik," she said nervously, tugging at her hand. "You're—you're hurting me."

He blinked, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there. He relaxed his grip but didn't let go of her hand. "My apologies. You did not come here to discuss my ideology, I understand that. However, I would like to tell you something, and I would like you to listen to me. Would you do that for me?"

It was hard to tell him no when he was looking at her like that; when his voice was this coaxing, she imagined he could sell snow to an Eskimo if he had a mind to.

"You told me earlier that you wished you had a practical power. I meant what I said about your gift, that you should be allowed to train, allowed to learn what else it can do for you. However, I'm not so foolish that I did not understand what you were saying to me."

His thumb rubbed lightly over the silk covering her hand; Rogue's breathing caught in her throat. She was beginning to understand exactly what made Erik Lehnsherr so dangerous.

"I will not lie and tell you that your gift is dangerous, that it makes you dangerous." His fingers were rubbing the inside of her wrist, and it was making her dizzy. "I hope you understand, Rogue, that that makes you more of a target for their hate than their acceptance."

He'd used her mutant name, not her human one. She swallowed hard. "I understand," she said quietly, because she did. "He's—the Professor—he gave me a home when Mystique—when you--would have used me to fight a war," she said quietly, and she knew that angered him from the brief tightening of his fingers around her wrist.

"Isn't he trying to use you? Oh, but he will, Rogue. He will. The man is willing to risk his life—and yours—for some dream that will never come true. Look deep within yourself and tell me what you see happening first—Xavier's dream reality where human kind accepts us for who we are, or my world, where we have to fight to stay free of their camps?" His voice was hypnotic. "You said yourself that mankind will always find something to hate. Charles' world is one that will never be. I must live in the one that is."

"Stop," she said, pulling at her hand again. This time, he released it. "You're confusing me," she said bluntly. Her arm felt like it was burning where he'd been touching it. "I thought you'd decided to join us."

"You never believed that. Never from the first, remember?" He was watching her like a hawk watches a mouse.

"So you're, what? Biding your time?"

He surprised her by nodding. "My faith in my vision and my purpose was shaken after Apocalypse, I'll admit that. Now, however, with this new Registration Act…" he trailed off.

"You think you'll have to leave, soon."

He cocked his head at her. "Do you think Charles will let me stay?"

"Well, he let you have dinner with one of his students," she joked weakly, her mind racing. "That's something."

He smiled, a bit of his earlier fervor fading from his eyes. "Indeed it is. Let us not talk of this anymore, but, Rogue—at some point, I shall have to make a decision. We all will. Do you understand?"

She thought she understood what he was saying, but she wasn't sure. Was he asking if she'd leave with him? How could she answer that? She was—

"Anna-Marie. I didn't mean to vex you. It's neither the time nor the place for such talk." He pushed back from the table and stood up, holding a hand down to her.

"Just one thing," Rogue said softly, remaining in her seat, looking up at him with determination. "Is this just because you want me on your side?"

He didn't bother to pretend not to understand what she meant. "I imagine it would look that way, and I won't lie. I would of course welcome your support." He reached out and drew her up; he was much taller than she, and stronger besides, and she wasn't really resisting him, exactly.

"Though no, it's not my primary motivation. It never has been." His mouth quirked up. "Though I'm not sure at times what that is, exactly, I assure you this is not some attempt to sway you to my way of thinking."

"How am I supposed to believe you?" she asked, voice shaking. "How?"

He looked around, then raked his hand through his hair and loosened his grasp again. He took the small leather folder with the bill and left some money, then motioned to her. "Let us leave and continue this elsewhere."

She followed him, still uncertain, wondering if this had been a mistake. They walked quietly down the street, and she shivered in the cold wind. She'd not dressed for an evening walk, and the night air had become quite chilly.

To her surprise, he draped an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. Unable to relax, she remained tense as she walked beside him, her mind racing. He did not speak as they continued walking, until they arrived at a small park next to the river. They stood at the small pavilion, empty in the winter night, both of them silent.

Finally, he turned her around to face him. "I'm not lying to you, Anna-Marie. I only have one way that I know of to assure you I'm telling the truth." He stared down at her, and the cold moonlight made his face look almost sinister.

She knew to what he was alluding, and pulled her glove off despite the winter's cold. She touched her fingers lightly to his cheek and waited, gasping a little under the pull and searching through the memories and thoughts that rushed in along with his power.

She could feel the press of the railing beside her, felt something heavy sleeping in the depths of the cold river beyond. It was so distracting, she had to focus in order to see what it was he wanted her to see. When she did, she started blushing, because a great many of his thoughts of her were of a carnal nature, and the images made her suddenly warm.

There was something else, there, too—a fascination with her powers, how dangerous it made her. An arrogance to be the one who would overcome them and touch her. "You could just be thinkin' about that so I'd believe you," she muttered, moving closer to him.

His hands settled at her waist, and pulled her hard against him. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "But I'm not."

She could feel that he wasn't lying about wanting her, but that had never really been their problem. "Erik, what it is about me that you want?"

He arched a brow at her, and she shook her head, flustered. "Not that. I mean…me, Anna-Marie, not Rogue. Is it just… I mean, is it just that you want me?" Her face was flaming.

"No," he said quietly, one hand reaching up to twine in her hair. At her look, he gave a low laugh. It thrilled down her spine and made her press herself against him. "I do want you. There's…I'm not sure what it is, but there's something. Do you not agree? I have no such luxury of seeing what is in your head, my girl."

"I—I know what you mean. Sort of. I mean I don't know what it is. But it's something." Slowly, she reached her now-gloved hand up and traced it gently over his jaw. She couldn't recall having touched him like this—of her own volition—before.

He sucked in a breath and bent his head, and then he kissed her. His mouth was warm on hers, and she kissed him back until her powers flared up and necessitated that they stop. "We should get back," he murmured, and she nodded, looking up at him in a daze.

They made their way back to the car, and this time, she relaxed against him as they walked. They went back to talking about things other than mutant politics, and he made her laugh with stories about the Professor from when they were younger.

It was very strange, Rogue thought, as he drove them home. She felt more comfortable around him than she did a lot of other people, although she had no idea why this should be so.

"Thank you for dinner," she said, feeling awkward, once he'd parked the car in the garage.

"You're very welcome," he answered, his voice suddenly husky. They stared at each other and suddenly she felt that undeniable spark between them flare up, hot and bright. Rogue licked her bottom lip, which was chafed from the cold weather, but she did so a lot slower than was really necessary.

In less than two seconds, he hauled her unresisting across the seat and onto his lap and his hands were roughly caressing her body though her clothes. Since he couldn't kiss her they stared at each other while he touched her, and she was shaking hard, her hands fisted in his sweater, pressing against him eagerly.

She shifted on his lap and he laid his head back against the seat, his eyes closed, hands tight on her waist. He was breathing very fast, as was she, and she knew they were half a second away from falling into some very familiar territory. She wasn't sure she could pull away if he didn't stop—he smelled good, and his body felt hot and hard and he wanted her, and he felt so wonderful beneath her--

"Damn it," he hissed, shifting her away from him almost desperately. Rogue leaned back against her seat and stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Um," she said, clearing her throat, torn between a desire to flee the car and an equally strong desire to climb back on his lap. "We should…maybe we should get out of the car," she suggested.

"That's a…a good idea," he said gruffly, and all four of the doors opened at once.

Unable to help herself, she clasped her hand to her mouth and giggled. He glared at her, but without any real heat behind it, and she followed him into the house.

"Erik, they're…everyone's gonna know we went out on a date," she said, catching at his hand before they entered the kitchen. "I mean, I ain't told nobody but Kitty, but everybody'll know."

"Does that bother you?" he asked, and she had no idea what he was thinking.

"Well…is this…I mean, are we—" she stumbled over the words, unsure how to ask if this was the first or last time they were ever going to go out on a date.

"Are you asking me if we'll be doing this again?" He smiled at her, and it made heat coil low in her stomach.

"I—I guess so," she mumbled, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, most certainly," he said softly, leaning down. "Most certainly." He nipped her ear and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses on her neck until she felt the surge of her powers begin anew.

"Then…no," she gasped, her hands coming up to his shoulders, tilting her head to allow him access to the smooth skin of her throat, covered by a sheer lace scarf. They both pulled apart as she heard the distant sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen, and she was gratified to know she wasn't the only one disappointed that they'd had to stop,

"Good," Erik said softly, a note of possessiveness in his voice, and vanished into the darkness.