After finding Lucy in the rain, Rogue had helped her up to his apartment so she could warm up and dry off. During this time, an uncomfortable silence had fallen over the two.

And it was slowly killing him.

Aside from a mumbled "Don't trip over the rug." and "I'll get you a towel.", no words were exchanged between the two, even though they hadn't actually spoken for over a month and Rogue was burning with the need to say anything to break the silence. He swallowed that need and sighed, looking over at the blonde he'd left on his couch.

Lucy sat quietly, eyes staring blankly into the dead fireplace. Rogue's brow furrowed as an involuntary shiver passed through her body as she toyed with the tips of her wet hair. Rogue had handed her a bath towel earlier, but it lay untouched beside her on the couch. He watched her silently, a mix of emotions flitting over his eyes. A spark of happiness was there, because he hadn't seen her for awhile and he did miss her cheerful, albeit sporadic, presence, but that warm little flame was extinguished by the heavy rain of plain awkward that blanketed them.

Sighing, Rogue worked his way over to his shitshow of a closet to find the heated blanket he'd stored away at some point. Lucy's body had felt freezing cold against his as he eased her up the stairs earlier, and he'd used the last of his firewood up the night before when Orga came over.

Upon opening said room, he groaned inwardly, there was no way he'd find it in there, he was sure of it. Piles upon piles of boxes (likely filled with random, absolute garbage) sat surrounded by loose objects. He had forgotten how bad it was, even though the last time he'd been in there had only been a few das prior.

But, ever the tenacious one, Rogue dived in.

After about ten minutes of sifting through boxes and Tupperware and laundry-bins of crap, Rogue's gaze found a spacebag labeled 'blankets' sitting on a high shelf. His eyes narrowed on his target and, against his better judgement, Rogue began climbing boxes to reach it. Higher and higher he climbed ("Why the fuck are there shelves against the ceiling?") until he felt the tips of the blue plastic bag.

"Ah." He said, successfully grabbing the bag, but also successfully falling off of his box ladder he was kneeling on.

The spacebag fell, bringing down a tower of cardboard boxes filled with pool floaties, Christmas decorations, and glitter. So that's where Sting got it from, Rogue thought absently as the thing-avalanche came crashing down on him.

Rogue groaned aloud as he rubbed his ass, which was sore from impact. A quick glance in the spacebag revealed his heated blanket though, and Rogue quickly forgot about his butt-pain. He smiled softly to himself.

Then he heard it. His head snapped behind him. Lucy was giggling, no, laughing at his blunder, and all the tenseness and discomfort in the atmosphere melted away at the sound of it.

"Rogue," And if he didn't like the sound of his name on her lips, "you have a little somethin'... everywhere"

She waved a hand across the whole of her body, that laugh still spilling out of her.

Rogue looked down. From his pant legs to his fingertips to, likely, his head, he was covered in shimmery, shiny glitter. He glanced around, it was absolutely everywhere.

"Agh, fuck," he groaned under his breath.

Lucy roared with laughter.

"How was your shower?" Lucy asked, her face partially hidden underneath the expanse of the heated blanket.

"Oh just wonderful," Rogue drawled sarcastically, hitting his palm against the side of his head, "I think there's still glitter in my ears." His face went deadpan.

Lucy couldn't help giggling at him once more. Rogue didn't mind it too much. He cracked a small smile and sat down to the side of her and rubbed his hair a bit with the forest-green bath towel draped around his neck. He heard a yawn from beside him.

"Tired?"

"Just a bit."

Well I sure as hell would be, if I were you, Rogue thought, his thoughts travelling back to the state he found her in. He fell silent, face tightening in thought.

"-Lucy-," Rogue started, then snapped his mouth shut. He closed his eyes and carefully deliberated what to say, a flurry of emotions flickering across his face.

On one hand, he was incredibly curious as to why she suddenly disappeared from his life.

Although they weren't incredibly close, he had felt a sort of comfort between them that had formed over time; it was a sense of familiarity that was created over their numerous strange encounters. There was this automatic, peaceful quality to their interactions that had startled Rogue, since he really wasn't a people person, let alone a female people person, and it normally took weeks of fairly continuous interaction for Rogue to become that comfortable with someone, as it did with Sting and Orga. So when this random girl literally fell into his life (from his wardrobe, like a fucking science fiction plotpiece, no less) and reached that level of intimacy with him in such a short time, it left an impact.

Then she disappeared. There sipping (his) coffee one minute, gone into thin air the next. And he had not been ready for it. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve that, and was more than mildly miffed at the memory of it.

But on the other hand, that comforting quality of their interactions had come back so quickly, so naturally, and he quickly realized how much he didn't want to ruin it.

When it wasn't there at first, it felt suffocating, terrifying, slightly. The feeling he felt... it was as though she was a complete stranger he'd committed some terrible crime by (although he had to admit, he really didn't know anything about the other, so they weren't much more than strangers anyway). It was like anything he said would blow up in his face and he'd be left with nothing again.

Wow. Nothing, Rogue...really? Does she really mean that much to you anyways? He heard a little voice in his head say. He honestly didn't know the answer to that.

Honestly, all he really knew was that he didn't want to lose that quality to their interactions again. He breathed deeply, settling on a healthy medium.

Rogue opened his eyes. Determined red met pleading brown. The lights flickered. Lucy was begging, begging Rogue not to pry. To let it be.

And he did, in a way.

"I won't ask why you were gone for so long."

I won't hurt you.

"But, in return," he began, taking a deep breath.

"In return... when you're tired of doing whatever.. space pirates (he drops to a whisper, because Rogue feels silly saying it) do... could you find it within yourself to - oh god - to... return here... sometimes?"

Rogue's hand is covering his mouth at this point, and his eyes have settled on a stack of sticky notes on his desk. He was sure his cheeks sported a color not much different from his eyes at this point, because dear lord that sounded stupid. It sounded like a confession, and a barely coherent one at that. He regrets his wording immediately.

"Actually you don't hav-"

"I'm sorry, Rogue," Lucy interrupts, smiling. "I won't leave like that again."

Rogue smiled gently in return, his eyes shining with silent thanks that she had understood what he really wanted to say.

It turned out short again. Im sorry O.O I kept writing and rewriting this. Still not completely satisfied with it but I hope someone is. Rogue is kinda OOC in this one.