Fic: Match
Title: Match
Pairing: M/R
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: Running an army dedicated to the cause of mutant rights can be damaging to one’s decor…
Spoilers: X3 and previous
Disclaimer: If I was in charge, neither Joseph nor Gambit would have ever existed. Or maybe they would have killed each other, slowly, painfully, and repeatedly...Well, I suppose Gambit’s all right, generally…
Notes: This was written a long time ago and has just been sitting on my hard drive. I’ve finally decided just to post it unbeta’d for the hell of it. X-men First Class is to blame.
***************
It was one of the most entertaining spectacles ever to be witnessed in the fortress, even before Magneto became directly involved. The incident began, as these things are wont to do, with a football match. The World Cup quarterfinals had coincided with a slow weekend in human-mutant affairs, so Erik had magnanimously given leave to a large portion of the Brotherhood to watch the matches, surprisingly many of whom had a keen interest in the outcomes.
Rogue had watched the first half and part of the second of the Portugal-England quarterfinal, but left in disgust when David Beckham had been injured and Wayne Rooney sent off after being carded. She hadn't gone in search of Erik specifically, but found him in the kitchen fixing a meal, apparently declining to partake in the pizza they'd ordered for the event. That was a shame really, considering the effort put into it; Mystique, posing alternately as a priest, a rabbi, and a minister needing food for youth groups had called three different pizza places to supply the quantity (and topping variety) of food required to feed the contingent, and had come close to being forced to make two boat trips to transport all the boxes back to the base. Erik was in a strangely playful mood; he pulled her onto his lap after finishing his sandwich to continue their conversation in earnest.
They were debating the topic of capital punishment, she against and he supporting, though she suspected he was only doing so to provoke her. She was losing, though it was due mostly to Erik letting his hands wander in rather inappropriate places rather than any real weakness in reasoning on her part. She'd made what she considered an excellent point in her favor, asking him if he thought human governments should have the right to apply the death penalty to mutants, something he could not possibly agree with. Rather than counter fairly, Erik ended the argument by touching her in a very sensitive place indeed, dissolving all her careful premises under a wave of arousal and absorbed power. Her moan startled Blob and Pyro, who, as time ran out had decided the chances of England winning on penalty kicks were negligible and elected to fetch more food before the next match (to be more accurate, Blob volunteered, and Pyro was chosen as chaperon in order to ensure some of the edibles actually reached the room), and been absorbed in their task of gathering supplies. After a quick, scarring glance toward the source of the unsettling noise, the pair busied themselves with balancing the supplies they were no longer interested in consuming (even Blob, which was saying quite a lot) as rapidly as possible for transport, and fled the kitchen with as much speed as girth and burdens allowed. Erik, displeased by the interruption, suspended further activity for a more private location.
Meanwhile, trouble was brewing in front of the television. After Cristiano Ronaldo (“that diving little shit” as Juggernaut had been muttering under his breath every time the Portugal player appeared onscreen) kicked the last penalty in behind Paul Robinson (“useless bastard”) and the whistle blew, the irate Englishman jumped to his feet, forming large shoe-shaped indentations in the metal floor, tore the defenseless (and blameless) television set from its moorings and hurled it toward the doorway at the precise moment Pyro and Blob were returning to the room with the victuals. Pyro's quick reflexes saved him from a face-full of Sony Plasma Screen as he dove left, threw armfuls of pizza right, and took refuge behind the nearest sofa. Blob had less time (and inferior reflexes) to react, and so merely blinked stupidly in self-defense as the object rocketed toward him, cutting through pizza boxes and bottles of soda before impacting his large stomach and rebounding in an upward trajectory. The device hit the ceiling with a loud crash, pulverizing the installed lights, before arcing downward. Mystique, who had spread herself flat on her stomach as the flying object made its first pass over the couch, vaulted straight up in the air, cat-like, and then maneuvered herself impossibly sideways over the spinning apparatus. Multiple Man absorbed his twin into himself just in time (he was allowed a limit of two copies of himself in the TV lounge as further numbers resulted in too much conflict with themselves over what to watch) as the launched object curled down and ricocheted off the cushions, ripping them in the process. The hapless television bypassed Juggernaut on the last leg of its return journey to slam into the wall directly below its original position, before sliding dejectedly down to land heavily atop the combined DVD/VHS player.
Rogue knew for certain, as he'd been taking her with him rather insistently, that Erik had been heading to their bedroom when they heard the horrendous crashes. Immediately, they both halted, tensing in preparation for battle, and, after exchanging perturbed glances, made their way with speed in the direction of the noise.
The entirety of the base was either at the doorway or in the hall outside it, and the resulting clamor and confusion was nearly as loud as the initial destruction. Erik’s arrival instantly hushed the noise and created a path, even displacing the Blob from his position in the doorway with a quickness Rogue certainly wouldn't have attributed to him previously. Metallic screeching echoed through the corridor as Erik used the metal of the walls to restrain the rec room's occupants before entering. As she came in behind him, Rogue was immediately take aback at the wholesale devastation of the room. Sofas and tables were overturned and in pieces and the floor was littered with debris: pizza, soda cans, chips, chip bags, etc. The splatter of pizza on walls, furniture, and flooring suggested a design scheme along the lines of 'greasy Italian food massacre.' Inevitably drawing most of the attention was the large man in red and white face paint affixed to the ceiling by thick bands of metal. Apparently discerning quickly from the round of guilty faces that the base was not in fact under attack-rather, that something a bit more domestic was afoot-Erik relaxed slightly, but did not release anyone.
“So, what enterprising soul found the decor lacking, and took it upon himself to redecorate?” His voice was calm, though belied by the glare he cast about the room.
“I did, sir.” All trace of his previous temper gone, the Juggernaut confessed with uncharacteristic meekness from his awkward confines above them.
“I see. And what heinous act committed by the entertainment system provoked your ire?” The question was posed in a mildly curious tone, paired with an inquiring glance upward by the too-calm mutant leader.
“England lost, sir.” The room was silent until Erik began to walk slowly about. He'd halted his pacing directly behind her, and, though she could not possibly be blamed for the incident, Rogue felt a bit nervous as he settled his hands on her shoulders. He began kneading the muscles there forcefully, and she had the sensation of being the human (mutant) equivalent of a stress ball. The feeling did not abate when his fingers slipped along her neck and underneath her shirt, his thoughts flowing into her like a pressure valve released. She'd never actually experienced his ire firsthand using her powers, and it was an odd thing; white-hot anger sparked was checked, collected, and funneled to fuel the cold rage that comprised his will and passion. He'd actually counted-twice-the walls on either side of the room he'd have to direct Juggernaut's body through to expel him from the fortress before resolving to administer punishment at a later time, to make it all the more satisfying and instructive.
“Clean this up.” The order was directed simultaneously at no one in particular and everyone within earshot. Erik was almost obnoxiously good at that. A careless gesture removed the metal pinning all but Juggernaut in their places, and with a final squeeze to her shoulder and a tug serving as a strong suggestion to follow him, Erik turned and stalked from the room. She gave silent apologies to Sunspot and Tarot for missing the upcoming Brazil-France match she’d been looking forward to watching with them and left behind him. As she followed Erik through the throng of curious and wary mutants, her left arm was grabbed just above the elbow. She twisted away quickly, releasing her limb from the attacker while finding and making bare-skin-to-bare-skin contact with her other hand. Her counter was apparently predicted, and desired, as a single absorbed sentence entered her mind, giving her both the identity of her opponent and his motive before he shied away from her.
You get him in a better mood, eh cherie?
Gambit winked at her as he jumped back from her retaliatory kick. Not wishing to test Erik's patience further by lingering, she resolved to enact revenge on the irritating Cajun at a later point in time. Opportunities for relaxation and fun were rare in their dangerous, purposeful lives, and she would have enjoyed an afternoon of friendly banter between her soccer-mad teammates. Now, however, she was destined to spend the next few hours helping the world's most (arguably) powerful living mutant reconsider his decision to dismiss his freedom-fighting army by launching them from the island fortress one by one. Then again, she mused as Erik slammed the door to their shared private quarters shut and resumed their prior activities in the same motion, with even more enthusiasm than before, it was hardly an unwelcome or burdensome task. Further thought on the matter became impossible when he removed the final layers of her clothing and the rush of wanted pain and pleasure-him-overtook her.
*********
Afterwards, sore but thoroughly sated, Rogue lay comfortably against him, enjoying both her book and his relaxed proximity in equal measure. He’d been calm, but quiet, apparently deep in thought.
“Do you think we should acquire another television for that room?” he asked, nonchalantly. She looked up from her book, trying to determine his mood before replying. He'd been seeking her opinion on such matters-day to day operations, command decisions-with gradually increasing regularity. Despite their frequent transfers, he remained in many ways an enigma; she wasn't sure if he was asking as a sort of survey of his policy from a soldier's point of view or if he really factored her input into his decision-making. She would do her best to answer, regardless.
“Yeah. I mean, everybody watches it, and it's useful for news briefings. It’s something to do for free time, too.” She tried to keep her voice as neutral as his, but felt herself tense a little.
“There's always swimming.”
“I guess.” The chilling grin wasn't directed at her, but sent shivers down her spine nevertheless.
******
The next morning, Magneto rose early, calling a mandatory meeting for all present at the base, and sending her to retrieve the condemned man with aid of Blob and Avalanche. The other mutants gave her questioning looks as she passed them, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they made their way outside to the beach. She had no answers, merely shrugging as she went about her appointed task.
Juggernaut hung limply in his metal trappings, and though his head was down when she entered the room, as it was no doubt exhausting to hold it up for such lengths of time, he craned up to look at her. She'd never even seen Cain Marko nervous before, but there was pure terror permeating the exhaustion written in his face. He managed to keep it from his voice, however, when he gave her a tired smile.
“‘Ello luv. Come to let me down?”
“Yep. But I don’t think you’ll be grateful for very long.” She directed Avalanche and Blob to remove the metal pinning Juggernaut to the ceiling, and shortly he was freed with a resounding thud, crushing the already abused couch beyond repair into the floor. He staggered to his feet, having difficulty coordinating his abused limbs, and had to lean on Blob for support as they followed the rest of the cohort out to the island shore.
“Shite. I've had to piss for hours. You got any idea what he's gonna do to me?” he asked with a sideways glance at her, not able to hide his trepidation any longer.
“No, I'm sorry.” He really was incredibly stupid, but she felt pity for him nonetheless. He’d undoubtedly survive whatever punishment faced him, but probably regret it, for a while. They soon reached the uneasy gathering, the mutants massed in a wide arc around their silent, intimidating leader. The crowd drew back even more as the quartet approached him. Blob and Avalanche stepped away, joining the rest of the crowd as Rogue and Juggernaut reached the waiting Magneto at the water’s edge. The large mutant met his leader’s cold gaze with a hangdog expression, stopping a few feet away. Rogue continued to the latter’s side without hesitation. The tense silence was oppressive, and no one dared move for several long, pained moments.
Without warning, or even one of the hand motions he was predisposed to, Erik hurled the Juggernaut from the beach with startling speed. Gasps of surprise were quickly suppressed as all tracked the progress of the errant mutant over the water’s surface, his astonished yelp quickly fading as he did into the distance. Rogue cast a quick, furtive look at Erik, discerning little effort but much cool satisfaction in his features, his attention wholly on the task at hand. After the helpless man had nearly disappeared from view, he halted, hovered for a few seconds, and then plunged into the water.
With a grin and a flex of his fingers, Erik dragged the submerged mutant back to the beach underneath the water with the same velocity, causing a wide, quick wake that reminded Rogue of the shark from Jaws advancing toward the fishing boat. The comparison was even more apt as the onlookers drew back from the edge of the water in anticipation of Marko's imminent return. Juggernaut hit the beach with an impact that shook the ground beneath them, burrowing through meters of sand and rock before finally skidding to a halt, a mound of the debris over and in front of his prone body. Unflinching, Erik pulled the retching, gasping man from the rubble as he walked over to him, bent down to whisper something in his ear, and then continued heading toward the base entrance. He turned back only to ask whether she’d be having coffee or tea with breakfast. Conscious of the attention of the gathered forces, she simply replied that she’d be fine with whatever he was having, and ignored the collective sigh of relief around her as he nodded and disappeared inside.
The mutant assembly slowly dissipated, with a few mutants, Rogue included, remaining behind to make sure Juggernaut would survive the incident. Aside from a few scrapes and copious amounts of sand and watered he’d inhaled, Cain Marko was chastened but unharmed. After offering a sympathetic pat on the back, and advice that he stay out of trouble for awhile (probably useless, as the man seemed destined to blunder about carelessly in his invulnerability) Rogue made her way back inside to the kitchen.
As she’d anticipated, she and Erik would be nearly alone for breakfast, the other occupants of the base apparently deciding their hunger wasn’t dire enough to risk their leader’s wrath this morning. She noted the presence of only two others besides him as she entered the room. Mystique, certain enough in her familiarity with Erik’s moods to know he’d pose no danger for the time being, gave her a small, amused smile as she prepared toast, and rolled her eyes at the terrorist leader absorbed in scrambling eggs at the stove. Rogue grinned back, suppressing a chuckle as she made her way to the fridge. The uneasy truce between her oddly mothering mentor and the man sharing her bed remained strained but workable as long as neither demanded she choose one over the other. Besides, they did a marvelous job of ignoring one another outside of missions and training anyway. She waited patiently behind the other interloper; Fred Dukes seemed physically incapable of skipping any meal, even when his personal safety was at risk. After he was finished gathering a massive assortment of food, piling the lot of it on his plate without bothering with such details as whether it naturally went together, or even qualified as breakfast fare, she retrieved the fruit and cheese she knew Erik enjoyed and readied the table.
The eggs were soon done, along with bacon he frowned upon but indulged her in nonetheless, and they sat down to eat. Food was passed between the former lovers without eye contact or even mutual acknowledgement, though always under Rogue’s careful but subtle watch. As he passed her a cup of what ended up being coffee, the caress of his thumb over the back of her hand brought the words he’d whispered to Juggernaut into her mind; Erik had promised that the next transgression by his subordinate would result in an experiment to see just how far he could hurl the man in the direction of his native country. They settled into an odd domesticity, disturbed only by the loud mastication of the Blob at the far end of the table. Raven and Erik each were absorbed in separate copies of the same newspaper dutifully fetched by Quicksilver earlier that morning, Dukes fully occupied with his food, and Rogue content, happy with this family that was indubitably bizarre, but her own.
FINIS.
Any feedback gratefully accepted.
Pairing: M/R
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: Running an army dedicated to the cause of mutant rights can be damaging to one’s decor…
Spoilers: X3 and previous
Disclaimer: If I was in charge, neither Joseph nor Gambit would have ever existed. Or maybe they would have killed each other, slowly, painfully, and repeatedly...Well, I suppose Gambit’s all right, generally…
Notes: This was written a long time ago and has just been sitting on my hard drive. I’ve finally decided just to post it unbeta’d for the hell of it. X-men First Class is to blame.
***************
It was one of the most entertaining spectacles ever to be witnessed in the fortress, even before Magneto became directly involved. The incident began, as these things are wont to do, with a football match. The World Cup quarterfinals had coincided with a slow weekend in human-mutant affairs, so Erik had magnanimously given leave to a large portion of the Brotherhood to watch the matches, surprisingly many of whom had a keen interest in the outcomes.
Rogue had watched the first half and part of the second of the Portugal-England quarterfinal, but left in disgust when David Beckham had been injured and Wayne Rooney sent off after being carded. She hadn't gone in search of Erik specifically, but found him in the kitchen fixing a meal, apparently declining to partake in the pizza they'd ordered for the event. That was a shame really, considering the effort put into it; Mystique, posing alternately as a priest, a rabbi, and a minister needing food for youth groups had called three different pizza places to supply the quantity (and topping variety) of food required to feed the contingent, and had come close to being forced to make two boat trips to transport all the boxes back to the base. Erik was in a strangely playful mood; he pulled her onto his lap after finishing his sandwich to continue their conversation in earnest.
They were debating the topic of capital punishment, she against and he supporting, though she suspected he was only doing so to provoke her. She was losing, though it was due mostly to Erik letting his hands wander in rather inappropriate places rather than any real weakness in reasoning on her part. She'd made what she considered an excellent point in her favor, asking him if he thought human governments should have the right to apply the death penalty to mutants, something he could not possibly agree with. Rather than counter fairly, Erik ended the argument by touching her in a very sensitive place indeed, dissolving all her careful premises under a wave of arousal and absorbed power. Her moan startled Blob and Pyro, who, as time ran out had decided the chances of England winning on penalty kicks were negligible and elected to fetch more food before the next match (to be more accurate, Blob volunteered, and Pyro was chosen as chaperon in order to ensure some of the edibles actually reached the room), and been absorbed in their task of gathering supplies. After a quick, scarring glance toward the source of the unsettling noise, the pair busied themselves with balancing the supplies they were no longer interested in consuming (even Blob, which was saying quite a lot) as rapidly as possible for transport, and fled the kitchen with as much speed as girth and burdens allowed. Erik, displeased by the interruption, suspended further activity for a more private location.
Meanwhile, trouble was brewing in front of the television. After Cristiano Ronaldo (“that diving little shit” as Juggernaut had been muttering under his breath every time the Portugal player appeared onscreen) kicked the last penalty in behind Paul Robinson (“useless bastard”) and the whistle blew, the irate Englishman jumped to his feet, forming large shoe-shaped indentations in the metal floor, tore the defenseless (and blameless) television set from its moorings and hurled it toward the doorway at the precise moment Pyro and Blob were returning to the room with the victuals. Pyro's quick reflexes saved him from a face-full of Sony Plasma Screen as he dove left, threw armfuls of pizza right, and took refuge behind the nearest sofa. Blob had less time (and inferior reflexes) to react, and so merely blinked stupidly in self-defense as the object rocketed toward him, cutting through pizza boxes and bottles of soda before impacting his large stomach and rebounding in an upward trajectory. The device hit the ceiling with a loud crash, pulverizing the installed lights, before arcing downward. Mystique, who had spread herself flat on her stomach as the flying object made its first pass over the couch, vaulted straight up in the air, cat-like, and then maneuvered herself impossibly sideways over the spinning apparatus. Multiple Man absorbed his twin into himself just in time (he was allowed a limit of two copies of himself in the TV lounge as further numbers resulted in too much conflict with themselves over what to watch) as the launched object curled down and ricocheted off the cushions, ripping them in the process. The hapless television bypassed Juggernaut on the last leg of its return journey to slam into the wall directly below its original position, before sliding dejectedly down to land heavily atop the combined DVD/VHS player.
Rogue knew for certain, as he'd been taking her with him rather insistently, that Erik had been heading to their bedroom when they heard the horrendous crashes. Immediately, they both halted, tensing in preparation for battle, and, after exchanging perturbed glances, made their way with speed in the direction of the noise.
The entirety of the base was either at the doorway or in the hall outside it, and the resulting clamor and confusion was nearly as loud as the initial destruction. Erik’s arrival instantly hushed the noise and created a path, even displacing the Blob from his position in the doorway with a quickness Rogue certainly wouldn't have attributed to him previously. Metallic screeching echoed through the corridor as Erik used the metal of the walls to restrain the rec room's occupants before entering. As she came in behind him, Rogue was immediately take aback at the wholesale devastation of the room. Sofas and tables were overturned and in pieces and the floor was littered with debris: pizza, soda cans, chips, chip bags, etc. The splatter of pizza on walls, furniture, and flooring suggested a design scheme along the lines of 'greasy Italian food massacre.' Inevitably drawing most of the attention was the large man in red and white face paint affixed to the ceiling by thick bands of metal. Apparently discerning quickly from the round of guilty faces that the base was not in fact under attack-rather, that something a bit more domestic was afoot-Erik relaxed slightly, but did not release anyone.
“So, what enterprising soul found the decor lacking, and took it upon himself to redecorate?” His voice was calm, though belied by the glare he cast about the room.
“I did, sir.” All trace of his previous temper gone, the Juggernaut confessed with uncharacteristic meekness from his awkward confines above them.
“I see. And what heinous act committed by the entertainment system provoked your ire?” The question was posed in a mildly curious tone, paired with an inquiring glance upward by the too-calm mutant leader.
“England lost, sir.” The room was silent until Erik began to walk slowly about. He'd halted his pacing directly behind her, and, though she could not possibly be blamed for the incident, Rogue felt a bit nervous as he settled his hands on her shoulders. He began kneading the muscles there forcefully, and she had the sensation of being the human (mutant) equivalent of a stress ball. The feeling did not abate when his fingers slipped along her neck and underneath her shirt, his thoughts flowing into her like a pressure valve released. She'd never actually experienced his ire firsthand using her powers, and it was an odd thing; white-hot anger sparked was checked, collected, and funneled to fuel the cold rage that comprised his will and passion. He'd actually counted-twice-the walls on either side of the room he'd have to direct Juggernaut's body through to expel him from the fortress before resolving to administer punishment at a later time, to make it all the more satisfying and instructive.
“Clean this up.” The order was directed simultaneously at no one in particular and everyone within earshot. Erik was almost obnoxiously good at that. A careless gesture removed the metal pinning all but Juggernaut in their places, and with a final squeeze to her shoulder and a tug serving as a strong suggestion to follow him, Erik turned and stalked from the room. She gave silent apologies to Sunspot and Tarot for missing the upcoming Brazil-France match she’d been looking forward to watching with them and left behind him. As she followed Erik through the throng of curious and wary mutants, her left arm was grabbed just above the elbow. She twisted away quickly, releasing her limb from the attacker while finding and making bare-skin-to-bare-skin contact with her other hand. Her counter was apparently predicted, and desired, as a single absorbed sentence entered her mind, giving her both the identity of her opponent and his motive before he shied away from her.
You get him in a better mood, eh cherie?
Gambit winked at her as he jumped back from her retaliatory kick. Not wishing to test Erik's patience further by lingering, she resolved to enact revenge on the irritating Cajun at a later point in time. Opportunities for relaxation and fun were rare in their dangerous, purposeful lives, and she would have enjoyed an afternoon of friendly banter between her soccer-mad teammates. Now, however, she was destined to spend the next few hours helping the world's most (arguably) powerful living mutant reconsider his decision to dismiss his freedom-fighting army by launching them from the island fortress one by one. Then again, she mused as Erik slammed the door to their shared private quarters shut and resumed their prior activities in the same motion, with even more enthusiasm than before, it was hardly an unwelcome or burdensome task. Further thought on the matter became impossible when he removed the final layers of her clothing and the rush of wanted pain and pleasure-him-overtook her.
*********
Afterwards, sore but thoroughly sated, Rogue lay comfortably against him, enjoying both her book and his relaxed proximity in equal measure. He’d been calm, but quiet, apparently deep in thought.
“Do you think we should acquire another television for that room?” he asked, nonchalantly. She looked up from her book, trying to determine his mood before replying. He'd been seeking her opinion on such matters-day to day operations, command decisions-with gradually increasing regularity. Despite their frequent transfers, he remained in many ways an enigma; she wasn't sure if he was asking as a sort of survey of his policy from a soldier's point of view or if he really factored her input into his decision-making. She would do her best to answer, regardless.
“Yeah. I mean, everybody watches it, and it's useful for news briefings. It’s something to do for free time, too.” She tried to keep her voice as neutral as his, but felt herself tense a little.
“There's always swimming.”
“I guess.” The chilling grin wasn't directed at her, but sent shivers down her spine nevertheless.
******
The next morning, Magneto rose early, calling a mandatory meeting for all present at the base, and sending her to retrieve the condemned man with aid of Blob and Avalanche. The other mutants gave her questioning looks as she passed them, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they made their way outside to the beach. She had no answers, merely shrugging as she went about her appointed task.
Juggernaut hung limply in his metal trappings, and though his head was down when she entered the room, as it was no doubt exhausting to hold it up for such lengths of time, he craned up to look at her. She'd never even seen Cain Marko nervous before, but there was pure terror permeating the exhaustion written in his face. He managed to keep it from his voice, however, when he gave her a tired smile.
“‘Ello luv. Come to let me down?”
“Yep. But I don’t think you’ll be grateful for very long.” She directed Avalanche and Blob to remove the metal pinning Juggernaut to the ceiling, and shortly he was freed with a resounding thud, crushing the already abused couch beyond repair into the floor. He staggered to his feet, having difficulty coordinating his abused limbs, and had to lean on Blob for support as they followed the rest of the cohort out to the island shore.
“Shite. I've had to piss for hours. You got any idea what he's gonna do to me?” he asked with a sideways glance at her, not able to hide his trepidation any longer.
“No, I'm sorry.” He really was incredibly stupid, but she felt pity for him nonetheless. He’d undoubtedly survive whatever punishment faced him, but probably regret it, for a while. They soon reached the uneasy gathering, the mutants massed in a wide arc around their silent, intimidating leader. The crowd drew back even more as the quartet approached him. Blob and Avalanche stepped away, joining the rest of the crowd as Rogue and Juggernaut reached the waiting Magneto at the water’s edge. The large mutant met his leader’s cold gaze with a hangdog expression, stopping a few feet away. Rogue continued to the latter’s side without hesitation. The tense silence was oppressive, and no one dared move for several long, pained moments.
Without warning, or even one of the hand motions he was predisposed to, Erik hurled the Juggernaut from the beach with startling speed. Gasps of surprise were quickly suppressed as all tracked the progress of the errant mutant over the water’s surface, his astonished yelp quickly fading as he did into the distance. Rogue cast a quick, furtive look at Erik, discerning little effort but much cool satisfaction in his features, his attention wholly on the task at hand. After the helpless man had nearly disappeared from view, he halted, hovered for a few seconds, and then plunged into the water.
With a grin and a flex of his fingers, Erik dragged the submerged mutant back to the beach underneath the water with the same velocity, causing a wide, quick wake that reminded Rogue of the shark from Jaws advancing toward the fishing boat. The comparison was even more apt as the onlookers drew back from the edge of the water in anticipation of Marko's imminent return. Juggernaut hit the beach with an impact that shook the ground beneath them, burrowing through meters of sand and rock before finally skidding to a halt, a mound of the debris over and in front of his prone body. Unflinching, Erik pulled the retching, gasping man from the rubble as he walked over to him, bent down to whisper something in his ear, and then continued heading toward the base entrance. He turned back only to ask whether she’d be having coffee or tea with breakfast. Conscious of the attention of the gathered forces, she simply replied that she’d be fine with whatever he was having, and ignored the collective sigh of relief around her as he nodded and disappeared inside.
The mutant assembly slowly dissipated, with a few mutants, Rogue included, remaining behind to make sure Juggernaut would survive the incident. Aside from a few scrapes and copious amounts of sand and watered he’d inhaled, Cain Marko was chastened but unharmed. After offering a sympathetic pat on the back, and advice that he stay out of trouble for awhile (probably useless, as the man seemed destined to blunder about carelessly in his invulnerability) Rogue made her way back inside to the kitchen.
As she’d anticipated, she and Erik would be nearly alone for breakfast, the other occupants of the base apparently deciding their hunger wasn’t dire enough to risk their leader’s wrath this morning. She noted the presence of only two others besides him as she entered the room. Mystique, certain enough in her familiarity with Erik’s moods to know he’d pose no danger for the time being, gave her a small, amused smile as she prepared toast, and rolled her eyes at the terrorist leader absorbed in scrambling eggs at the stove. Rogue grinned back, suppressing a chuckle as she made her way to the fridge. The uneasy truce between her oddly mothering mentor and the man sharing her bed remained strained but workable as long as neither demanded she choose one over the other. Besides, they did a marvelous job of ignoring one another outside of missions and training anyway. She waited patiently behind the other interloper; Fred Dukes seemed physically incapable of skipping any meal, even when his personal safety was at risk. After he was finished gathering a massive assortment of food, piling the lot of it on his plate without bothering with such details as whether it naturally went together, or even qualified as breakfast fare, she retrieved the fruit and cheese she knew Erik enjoyed and readied the table.
The eggs were soon done, along with bacon he frowned upon but indulged her in nonetheless, and they sat down to eat. Food was passed between the former lovers without eye contact or even mutual acknowledgement, though always under Rogue’s careful but subtle watch. As he passed her a cup of what ended up being coffee, the caress of his thumb over the back of her hand brought the words he’d whispered to Juggernaut into her mind; Erik had promised that the next transgression by his subordinate would result in an experiment to see just how far he could hurl the man in the direction of his native country. They settled into an odd domesticity, disturbed only by the loud mastication of the Blob at the far end of the table. Raven and Erik each were absorbed in separate copies of the same newspaper dutifully fetched by Quicksilver earlier that morning, Dukes fully occupied with his food, and Rogue content, happy with this family that was indubitably bizarre, but her own.
FINIS.
Any feedback gratefully accepted.