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Voulez-Vous- Part 1
Rogue stood in the kitchen at the Xavier Institute late one evening. Sleep was hard to come by for the past week. She wasn't the only one awake at this ungodly hour, but at the moment, she was the only one who had eaten their feelings. Logan, Morph and Gambit would likely come by the kitchen after their late night danger room session; she guessed in about an hour.
And Scott…
Scott wasn't eating much at all. Jean managed to get him to have some soup that afternoon. A win.
She didn't have that problem. Maybe the opposite?
No, she refused to feel guilty for enjoying a midnight snack.
'He wouldn't want that,' she thought as she finished returning the jars of marshmallow fluff and peanut butter back to their places in the cabinet. While she returned the peanut butter to the front of the cabinet, the marshmallow fluff was rarely used and it's hiding spot had been pretty far back-
Rogue felt herself holding back a sniffle as she saw a little jar in the back with a handwritten label; 'Magnus.'
She quickly closed the cabinet, nearly slamming it before she rushed to the sink. She just needed to wash what she'd used and then she could try and get some sleep.
The water was on, her hands taking on the feel of fresh warm water against her skin as she washed off the butter knife. She sniffled again as she glanced out the window behind the sink, when a refraction of light caught her attention.
The butter knife dropped into the sink, forgotten, before she flew out the back door and into the yard behind the mansion. She saw a shadow, and chased after it in earnest, flying past the basketball court and into the woods. Forget that she was in pajamas, forget that she was alone. They weren't losing anyone else. Not on her watch.
She and the figure cloaked by darkness came into a clearing, well behind the mansion, at the site of a grave. It was there, moonlight banished shadow and the figure came into view.
"Magnus?" she asked hesitantly as she allowed her bare feet to touch the grass, her stance relaxing somewhat. His back was turned to her, as he stared at the grave, but the red and purple uniform he wore was distinctive enough for a guess.
"Hello, Rogue," he said, his hard voice, devoid of emotion, confirming her suspicions. "Shall I pose myself for battle?" he asked bitterly.
"Why?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest as she walked closer to him. She came to stand beside him, in front of the grave. "You planning on attackin' someone?" she asked as she glanced up at him. Her question was met with the arching of his brow.
"No, not this evening," he remarked sadly and both of the gazes turned back toward the grave.
"Then I ain't gotta call the calvary," she promised.
"… thank you," he stated after a pause, his voice low.
She didn't respond with a 'you're welcome'. It wasn't necessary. Instead, she placed her hand on his board shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. It was such a simple touch and yet her own soul felt less burdened for the effort.
"Take your time. No one's gonna notice you're out here," she told him, turning to give him some privacy, time to grief. But as she moved to slip her hand off of his shoulder, his hand shot up, taking hold of her wrist.
She glanced up, and saw a world of hurt on Magneto's face. She'd cried at the funeral. He hadn't had that catharsis, keeping away from Kurt's eulogy, likely for the same reason he only dared to visit this grave in the dead of the night.
"I told him to hide before humanity could-" he said, his voice faltering, he looked on the verge of tears.
"Come here, sugar," she sighed before pulling him into a hug. His arms were wrapped around her, tightly and suddenly her mind was inundated with memories. She hadn't felt his strong arms wrapped around her in some time. It felt wonderful and she allowed her own mask to drop as she cried freely against him. His grip grew tighter and she could swear he was crying as well, as he held onto her for dear life.
She wasn't sure how long it was before he pulled away and she saw it wasn't only her eyes that were plagued with tears. Both of them turned their gaze to the grave; and she read the inscription carved into the marble: Charles Xavier; Father, Teacher, Leader.
"Ya know, the Professor had this little jar stashed away with your name on it," she informed him. "Is it important?"
"Tea," he smiled, through his tears. "I used to… drop by every so often and he'd brew a pot of Schwarztee," he replied. "It's bitter and dark… without assistance," he added before she could've swore she saw his lip curving up into a smirk. "Charles said there was a reason it was my favorite," he chuckled under his breath.
"Ya want some now?" she asked him.
"That would be…," pausing to reach up and wipe his eyes. "Yes, that would be lovely," he said, his eyes shining with emotion. "Thank you, Rogue," he said. She just smiled at him as she grabbed his arm and started leading him back toward the house.
"How did you and Charles meet?" she asked him.
"I've told you this before," he said almost dismissively. "Years ago when we were-"
"I know," she interjected, leaning her head against his shoulder, squeezing his arm. "Tell me again."
He let out a blissful sigh as he pulled his arm up and hers along with it, taking hold of her hand, their fingers untwining as she watched him prepare himself to spend the rest of the evening recalling his fondest memories of Charles. She planned to respond in kind, with her own stories.
And it would be nice to share a cup of tea with an old friend.
It was just tea. What could happen?