Note: Do not own X-Men, or any of the characters.
Wade wakes up, and he's suddenly very aware of the warm thing beside him. He moves closer to it with a yawn, doesn't realize he's spooning whatever it is.
It's breathing. Whatever the hell it is, it's breathing.
His eyes snap open, and he blinks at the harsh sunlight with a curse. This earns him a small nudge in the ribs—an elbow? An arm. Marie… breasts. His mind can barely manage to put it all together at this moment in time, what with it being so damn early—12 AM is early for him, okay?—But he feels her thigh pressed against his own, blinks some more.
Then…
"What the fuck are you doing in my bed?"
She sits up, seems to notice where they are, her eyes go straight to the bracelet on her wrist and she sighs.
"What?"
"I said; the fuck are you doing in my bed?" he repeats, a little distracted by the way her breasts move with that wonderful intake of breath and yeah, his voice kind of wavers between annoyed and happy. She's wearing this thin shirt—and she's cold. She catches his gaze, smacks his head and he yelps.
"What the hell?"
Kill me for looking, then..
"As for your question, dummy, this is my room." She snaps, rolls over. And jeez, even her morning breath is good. He can't help but roll his eyes, rub a hand along her spine, under her shirt where her skin is so smooth—soft.
"Don't… Don't stop…" she whispers.
And damn morning wood.
He finds a rhythm to stroke her back with, and eventually she's asleep.
Morning wood is still present.
"That's it… If I'm awake, then she should be too. Damn roomie… How the hell did I even manage to fall asleep in her bed—fucking springs." he's traveling downstairs, his hand still warm from her flesh.
He looks over, and the tap is dripping.
Standing there, clad in white briefs and jeans, low on his hips, he get an idea.
"That'll work."
She's a heavy sleeper; he'll give her that. He gave her one warning—because he's that nice—and then promptly tipped the cup of water on her head. She jumped up so fast, and punched him so hard he would have been proud if his face didn't hurt.
Marie apologizes quickly, jumps off the bed and rushes to his side.
Damn roomie has got a mean right hook. And right now she looks like she regrets it.
"You okay?" she asks softly, and he looks at her—really looks at her.
Her hair falls in mahogany waves around her face, the streaks almost the same, and her eyes are all soft, lips parted quizzically at his look. He glimpses downward, almost drops his jaw because the shirt is see through.
"You look like you could use a cuddle…" she says, and this gets his attention back to her face. Before he can ask what the hell a cuddle is, she wraps her arms around him, pulls him close and holds him gently. He's got this warm feeling coiling low in his stomach and figures this is nice.
That's when she decides to knee him in the stomach, and run like hell.
He actually laughs, and stands.
Yeah. Rogue is really a Wade type of girl.
That doesn't stop him from running after her a few minutes later with a bucket of water.
"DON'T RUN!" he yells after she screams and narrowly escapes his range—and he kicks the broken chair in front of her, trips her. She lands on her stomach.
He dumps the water on her back, runs away from her swearing and yelling, and can't help but laugh like the maniac he really is, while catching some glances at her chest.
He's still got it.