"Morning," Rogue said softly, looking at Pyro from the chair near the window.
Their room wasn't that big, but it was big enough for just the two of them. The window gave them a full view into the parking lot, which was good. It was the day after, and they were even lucky to just be able to find a motel with vacancies. On the other hand, there was the fact that they had to share a bed…
"What, you didn't sleep?" he asked, getting up. He had been spread pretty much over the entire bed. He looked at her, and she nodded a reply.
It was ironic, now that he thought of it, how fresh she looked, despite having been awake since four in the morning. Her hair just fell down and crowned her face perfectly, smoothly. She didn't look sleepy at all. Her small smile made him…well, sorta smile…inside that was. Even in the slight darkness of closed curtains, and the poor type of wallpaper the manager had picked, she simply looked beautiful…Wait. What was he thinking? This was Rogue. He didn't like Rogue. He never liked Rogue. The farthest they had gone was friendship. A short one too. And what about Bobby? Where did he fit into this picture?
"Have you called your boyfriend?" he asked her casually, getting up and filling a cup with the coffee she had made.
"I didn't make that," she said uneasily. He poured the contents into the sink, and placed the cup there as well. "And if by boyfriend you mean Bobby Drake, trust me, he doesn't have to know."
"Are you saying that that 'rock-hard' stable relationship you and Iced Brain is over?" he asked with a mock laugh.
"Here," she said, handing him a cup of coffee she had bought from the diner around the corner. "Much safer." Pause. "And yes, it's over. Let's just say…he moved on…while we were in a relationship."
"Who was it?" he asked, partially interested. He glanced at his injured arm. It was bandaged up, and didn't sting or hurt. She caught him staring at it for a moment or so.
"I did that," she said. She dropped her cup of coffee into the dust bin, and sat on the bed. "It was Kitty Pryde," she added after a moment, a tone of hurt in her voice.
"Sorry," he grunted.
"He just started liking her. It doesn't really matter now, does it?" she said, smiling slightly. He nodded. "How long are we gonna stay here?"
"Maybe a week. Two. Three. A month at most."
"And no one can know we're here?"
He shook his head. "That lady last night and her thugs will have given up search by then atleast. Then you can go home and I can disappear."
"Who was she?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes it does, John."
"Pyro. And no, it doesn't."
"Fine. Don't tell me."
"Good. Let's keep it that way."
"There's some food in that bag," she said, looking at the one on the table. "I bought it earlier."
He ignored that statement, and took a seat in the chair she had just left. "What happened between you and the mansion?"
"Why do you think something happened?"
He smiled knowingly. "Because you haven't mentioned it at all yet. I'd expected you to have told me to go there."
"I talk to Ms. Munroe. Just not anyone else."
"Not even Wolverine?" he asked, looking at her as she looked at the floor.
"I'm dead to him. He said it himself."
"Why?"
"Tell my why that woman attacked you and I'll tell you why he hates me."
"No deal, Roguey."
She sighed. They both heard a phone ring. It was hers. He picked it up from the table and looked at the caller ID. It was Bobby.
"Looks like the ex wants to make amends," he said sarcastically. She snatched the phone from his hands.
"He just checks in once in a while." She put it on silent and threw it onto the bed. "What are we going to do for three weeks?"
He ignored that statement as well, and instead opened the curtains and looked outside. Bright day.
He dropped down onto the bed behind her. She dropped beside him. He closed his eyes, and looked so peaceful. As peaceful as earlier. She could see his chest rise slowly and fall back down as he was breathing. It was a scene she could stare at all day. And before she knew it, he was asleep. She turned, and soon, fell asleep too, not even noticing that he was absent-mindedly moving from side to side, and had ended up putting an arm around her. She locked the embrace, placing her arm on top of his.
Later.
"John," Rogue whispered. He woke up, and pulled his arm back. How it had gotten to be around her waist, he didn't know. But she was still asleep. Is that my name she's whispering in her sleep? he thought. She turned to the other side, and was facing him now. He looked at her. She looked so fragile. So soft. So…perfect. He pushed a white strand of hair behind her ear. And the as he drew back his hand, his fingers softly brushed her cheek.
"John," she murmured again. He got up, and looked out the window again. Nothing unusual. Then he turned back to her. Still asleep.
One Week Later.
They were always dead quiet. Spoke sometimes, but otherwise just sat down quietly, not even acknowledging each other's existence. Rogue sat on the chair by the window again, and looked at Pyro. He had just come out of the shower, his hair wet. He was wearing those clothes she had gotten for him at a nearby store. He was drying his hair with a towel
It was rather annoying, really. Earlier that day, they had both reached for her phone, which had rung, for what could've been the hundredth time that week. His hand had come over hers. He didn't even pull it back quickly, or look embarrassed. He just pulled back softly. His hands were warm.
Right now, he was sitting on the bed, flicking his lighter open and shut. He had once shown her what he could now do. She had to admit it, he had become really good at manipulating fire.
Once, he had reached for his lighter, and had had to place his arm around her to get it. His arm had slid across her back. No matter how many times she tried to lie to herself, it felt…good.
She didn't think she was sending these…awkward signs. Or did she? Well…she had noticed…that time she had come out of the shower, with a towel wrapper around, drenched, and he had just walked into the room. She had her back turned to him, but she knew he was there. And she could feel him staring. Because it was a minute later when the door shut, and he was gone. She also knew it was him. She had heard the lighter, opened and then closed over and over again.
She had begun to force him to eat. Sorta like forcing the spoon into his mouth. He barely ate. She'd place a hand on his cheek, and he'd smile, and take a bite while looking through the newspaper. He wouldn't tell her, but kinda enjoyed her hands on his cheeks. Liked the closeness. Liked waking up next to her everyday. Yeah. It was true. He liked her. Liking her being the minimum affection he could consider. No. Caring for her was the minimum. And he had surpassed that.
Rogue glanced away as Pyro looked at her. She picked up her phone again. It was Storm.
"They'll kill me for not telling them where I am."
"I'll protect you then," he said, half-joking, while Rogue felt her cheeks burn and a smile start to creep onto her face.
"I doubt I'd need you to protect me."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
She shook her head, and stood up. She looked out the window. They had been doing that frequently. He looked out along with her. The manager of the place hadn't recognized Pyro when they'd check in and a week had gone by already and the cops hadn't been called. So far so good. There wasn't even a single sign of that woman who'd attacked him. He backed out, and placed his lighter on the table. It slipped down. He didn't notice. Rogue bended down, her back faced to him. She stood up again, and turned. He caught her by the arms, by surprise, and leaned in and kissed her.
It was a sweet kiss. And after the surprise had passed, she had felt herself enjoying it. Returning it. His lighter was still in her hand, and she was clutching it tight now. He backed off, and his forehead leaned forward, onto hers. Their eyes were both closed now.
"That was good," he murmured. She giggled slightly, and her cheeks were burning red.
"Pyro…" Rogue began. He had corrected her so many times she had started calling him by the name he wanted. She didn't expect him to correct her this time.
"It's John."
"John…" she whispered, burying her face into his shoulder. He rocked her softly from side to side. It was a sweet moment. Her arms were around his neck. They just stood there. It seemed like they were standing for ages, but they didn't care. Nothing else mattered at the time. Not what was going around them, not what had happened before, not even what was going to happen.
He was there. There with her. That was all that matter to them.