Apocalyptothon Fic: Come on Up, Lay Your Hands in Mine (XMM, Rogue/Iceman/Pyro) Part 2
Title: Come on Up, Lay Your Hands in Mine
Author: misachan
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Rating: R
Pairing: Rogue/Iceman/Pyro
Warnings: Sex and some salty language
Recipient: nekare
Request: Rogue, Bobby and John end up having to deal each other again when they find themselves pretty much alone.
Summary: When everything else is stripped away, all you have to lean on is each other.
"Your turn, Bobby."
"I know, I know, give me a second to decide."
John lets out an exasperated groan. "There's only two choices. Why do you always take forever to do this?"
"Fine. Truth."
"You're such a puss, Drake. Would it kill you to pick dare just once?"
Bobby props himself up against the couch. "I have nothing to hide. Ask away."
It's been getting more and more common to find abandoned houses to crash in; tonight's house is a lovely split-level ranch that formerly belonged to the Andersons, who were thoughtful enough to have a fully stocked liquor cabinet in the event of Apocalypse. Marie taps her fingernail against her tumbler of rum and tries to think of a good question; Bobby had stubbornly picked Truth every time his turn came around, and she was running out of things to ask.
Also, the rum wasn't helping. "Um...all right, who's the first girl you've kissed?"
"Susan Donner, third grade," John and Bobby both say at once. "You asked that one already," John says. "Drink up."
"Oh. Right." Repeat questions mean you have to take a drink, as does not answering a question if you pick truth or not doing a dare. They were well into their second bottle already; Marie thinks she likes this pineapple flavored stuff better than the straight rum they'd started with. "Okay, then. Guess it's your turn."
A few more rounds go by; John winds up forced to climb up on the roof to shout, "I'm king of the world," by Bobby (John always picks dare, which is also why his hair is currently purple), and Marie proves that she can in fact sing all the female roles from "Once More with Feeling." Finally Bobby's turn comes around again, and again he picks Truth. Marie can tell John's about to leap up and strangle him.
"All right, um..." She fumbles for a question that Bobby hasn't already answered; she already knows the whens, wheres and hows of his first kiss (Susan Donner in third grade under the monkey bars), where he was when his powers kicked in (he turned his swimming pool into a skating rink accidently), the worst trouble his powers had ever gotten him in, pre-X Men (he'd had to outrun the cops after they caught him making ice slides in Central Park), who the hottest teacher at the school was (Jean, of course, it was always Jean), and any number of other things she isn't quite sober enough to remember. She keeps wanting to ask about kisses; she knows it's because the only way she'll get to kiss Bobby is vicariously, but all the same it's a bit like ripping off a scab each time. She wonders if she can blame this masochistic streak on the rum.
He seems to be reading her mind. "You already know everything about every girl I've ever kissed," he says. "Y'know. Before you ask again."
She glares at him; drinking brought out a smirky side to him that she didn't care for at all. "Fine," she says, words rushing out on impulse, "who's the first guy you've kissed then, if I've run through all the girls."
She expects him to roll his eyes and laugh. When instead he goes pale as a ghost and his eyes wide as saucers, her attention piques, and when he knocks back some rum instead of answering she feels the game really start to get interesting. "You've kissed a guy?" she says, her voice rising to a squeal. "Who?"
"Hey," Bobby protests, "it's not my turn anymore, I took the drink...."
"I'm just gonna ask during the next go-round, so you might as well answer now."
"But that's not how the rules...."
"Just tell her, Drake," John says, spinning the empty bottle on the floor. "You're holding everything up. It's not that big a deal."
"Wait, you know?" she starts to say, but then she sees the panicked way Bobby's looking at John out of the corner of his eye, practically screaming shut up shut up shut up, and the way John's lips are curving up ever so slightly in response, like he knows the joke and is waiting for everyone else to catch on. She's glad that she's already sitting down. "You two?" she says. "Bobby, John's the guy you've kissed?"
John smiles full-on then, and Bobby starts stammering, "Look, Rogue, I'm sorry, I should have told you, I know, don't be mad, I'm sorry...."
She's far too confused to be mad at the moment. "Wait, when did this even start?"
"About a month after we both started at Xavier's," John says, and Bobby shoots him an incredulous why would you say that? look.
"So...wait, that's when it started, when did it stop?" Guilt flashes through Bobby's eyes, and she knows the answer to her next question even as she asks it. "Bobby, where you and John still carrying on after we got together?"
Both boys start talking at once, until finally John whaps Bobby on the shoulder to shut him up. "Not the whole time. Mostly in the beginning."
Marie keeps looking back and forth between Bobby and John. "You were cheating on me?"
John rolls his eyes. "Would'ya stop being so dramatic?" he says. "Look, we were just messing around. It doesn't even count, really."
"Why? Because you're both guys?"
John just shrugs his shoulders. "Well, yeah. It's not like he was making out with another girl behind your back or anything. It's just not the same."
She's certain that the logic to that doesn't scan at all, but she doesn't feel up to grappling with it just now. Bobby's flushed almost cherry red, which makes her think of what the slang term "cherry" means, which brings her back around to trying to picture Bobby and John. She knows that she should feel much more upset about this revelation than she actually does, that this strange, lightheaded, close-to-giddy feeling isn't the appropriate response. She blames the rum.
"Show me," she says, and she blames the rum for that too.
Bobby blanches. "Hey look, let's just get back to the game...."
"Bobby, c'mon. You were kissin' him behind my back for the Lord only knows how long. That's better than doin' it so I can see?"
Bobby sputters a little more, until John's finally had enough. "Just shut it, Drake," he says, getting up (only slightly unsteadily) and walking over to Bobby. "Let's just get this over with." With that he pulls Bobby up by his arm, leans forward (Marie leans forward, too), and kisses him full on the mouth.
For a moment they're all still as statues. Everyone's holding their breath, and then like a dam breaking the tension bleeds away and Bobby returns the kiss. Marie can feel her blood rushing hot and fast through her veins; she notices everything: John's hair hanging in Bobby's face, the way his right hand is cradling the nape of his neck. She sees Bobby's arm reach up, his hand pressed against John's side, and wonders if Bobby's even knows he's doing it. She sees quick flashes of tongue, notices how Bobby, not John, is the one who leans forward now to press into the kiss. By the time John pulls away a few seconds later, she's just as flushed and breathless as the two of them.
Bobby plops back down next to the couch, and John walks back over to his previous spot. For a few moments no one says anything, then John drains the rum left in his glass. "Okay, so, it's my turn now...."
***
The next night they play again, and this time John and Bobby do more than kiss. Marie watches then, too.
***
They meet their first survivor while rummaging for supplies in a little town just past the Kentucky state line (they know because half of the "Welcome to Kentucky! The Bluegrass State!" was still standing). They've been alone been so long they've forgotten to be careful, so when the man comes up behind Marie and locks his right arm around her neck and holds a razor blade under her chin with his left, he catches them completely off-guard. "I don't want any trouble, now!" he says, dragging her away from the dumbfounded boys.
It takes a second for them to shake off the surprise, but then the fire and ice come out. "Well, you've got it," says Bobby, frost covering his fingers.
"Don't want no trouble!" he says again "Been looking for my daughter for weeks now. Always runnin' off, but I found her, now we just got to go home. April, say goodbye to your friends, now." The volume is rising with each rambling word; Marie angles her head enough to see the man's face, especially his huge, bloodshot, and completely insane eyes. "We just want to go home."
"Let her go," Bobby says, and she can see John's eyes flick around as he looks for something advantageous to burn.
"Just want to take my daughter home," he repeats, but this time sobs break through the words. He forces the point of the blade under her chin, and John and Bobby both stop. "We just want to go home."
"I'm not your daughter," Marie says, forcing her voice to stay even. For all of his strength, she can feel that the man is skin and bones. "My name's Marie. I'm from Mississippi. We're survivors, just like you."
He shakes his head wildly. "You don't worry, Daddy's found you. Daddy'll keep you safe now, don't you worry. Everything's gong to be just fine now." He tightens his arm around her neck, and dark spots start to appear in front of her eyes. She can see Bobby take a step forward, but John pulls him back; Bobby has a mutinous look on his face, but she wants to tell him that John's right. She can feel the point of the blade pricking her skin, and all it would take would be a flick of the wrist and her throat would be open.
The man's still rambling on about his daughter as he drags her out of the house. Between the cuff of her glove and the sleeve of her blouse there's the smallest sliver of wrist visible. She can see out of the corner of her eye that the man's shirt has a rip in the elbow, and slowly, very, very slowly, she raises her arm and presses her skin against his.
She only intends to stun, but it's been too long since she's been forced to do this, and her control was never the best. She sees his life in a flash; Roger, a welder, he was repairing a vault and so escaped. She sees the daughter, green-eyed and laughing and everything good in the world, and indeed there's a resemblance there. She feels the desperate search, the empty town pressing down on her, the isolation and despair turning to madness and obsession as his life flows into her like water from a broken faucet. She wants to let go and can't, and as his mind slips down into blackness she follows it, down the way she'd followed David's but further and deeper into the vast, inky, suffocating darkness.
When she comes to she's screaming and can't stop. She's clutched onto John and doesn't know how she got there; he's got his arms around her and muttering words into her ear, holding her up as she screams her throat raw. Bobby steps forward, reaches out to touch her, but she shrinks way, and she can feel John put himself between herself and Bobby. "Back off, Drake."
"What? But..."
"You have any idea what it's like to kill someone? Any idea? No? Then back the fuck off." She sees Bobby draw back white with shock, then she buries her face against John's shoulder so she doesn't have to look at him---or the broken body on the ground behind him.
***
Bobby's turn comes two weeks later. Where the man was raving, this woman is angry. She comes on them like a whirlwind; bedraggled hair and a threadbare executive's suit that Marie could tell cost hundred of dollars back when that would have meant something.
She has John on the ground; his lighter's been knocked out of reach, and the muzzle of the woman's rifle is inches from his face. Marie's head is ringing from being struck with the stock, and her hand comes back bloody when she pushes her hair out of her eyes.
"Mutie freaks," the woman says. Her voice is calm and steady. "You did this. Everyone's dead, and it's because of freakshows like you. The government should have rounded you all up and gassed you when it had the chance."
"Please," Marie says, "we didn't do anything." She can see Bobby icing up out of the corner of her eye. "Just let him go."
John tries to skitter towards his lighter, and the woman presses the rifle against his temple. "I'll bet you three thought humans were defenseless now," she says, ignoring Marie completely. "I'll show you how defenseless we really are." Marie sees the hammer pull back and knows she can't get there in time. She closes her eyes and waits for the blast.
It doesn't come. She opens her eyes and sees the woman still standing over John, but with the gun lying at her feet and a very strange look on her face. Her mouth opens several times, but no words come out, and it's now that Marie sees the growing blood stains all down the woman's chest. She crumples to the ground in what seems like slow motion, her hands clutching spasmodically at the dirt before finally going still. It isn't until the woman's on the ground that Marie sees what killed her --- a series of ice knives down her back.
Bobby comes forward like a sleepwalker. "I didn't...I mean, I wasn't trying to...." He looks back and forth between John and Marie. "I couldn't aim, she was going to kill him, I didn't have time...." His breath is coming ragged now, and his voice breaks. "I...oh God, I swear, I didn't...."
He turns away from the body. John picks himself up and reclaims his lighter, all the while looking at Bobby like he's never seen him before, and Marie wonders if John really thought Bobby wouldn't save him.
She holds Bobby as he retches, and John incinerates the body behind them, the flames rising high.
A few nights later Bobby jolts awake from another nightmare, waking Marie up along with him. "John?" he says, after a few minutes. "John, you up?"
They hear a groan from a few feet away. "I am now. Whatta you want, Drake?"
"Was that what it was like? When you were running with the Brotherhood?" There's no answer, and Bobby presses on. "I know you killed people. Was it like that every time?"
"Yeah." His voice is empty of its usual bravado, sounding so unlike himself that feels like she's meeting him for the first time. "Every time."
"Fuck, John, I had no idea."
She hears John rolling over. "Yeah. Kinda wish you still didn't, to be honest."
"Yeah."
A minute or so passes. "We done?" says John's voice. "Can I go back to sleep now, or do we have to bond some more first?"
Bobby laughs, and Marie's glad to hear that sound again. "Fuck you, John."
"Back at you, Drake."
Bobby laughs again, and as she drifts back to sleep Marie can feel that something's shifted between the three of them.
***
"You know what really sucks?"
It's been raining all day, and they've worked most of the way through a bottle of wine. The topic of, "Hey, you know what I miss?" had come up, and they'd spent a few hours discussing X-Boxes and sno-cones and really salty movie popcorn. John brought up that that he missed porn, which had made Marie throw a pillow at his head. It had also made her think, though.
"I mean," she continues, "aside from the death and destruction, what sucks for me personally?"
John's sprawled out in an armchair, trying to balance the now-empty wine bottle on his head. "Is there any way you won't tell us? 'Cause I'll do it, whatever it takes."
"Shut up, John, no one's talkin' to you." She throws herself down on the couch, narrowly missing Bobby, who's stretched out with his legs dangling over the armrest. "At least at Xavier's there was the chance that we'd figure out how to control my powers somehow. Now that's probably not ever gonna happen."
"Looks like."
She doesn't have anything handy to throw at John, but if she did, oh, would she be throwing. "So I managed to survive the Apocalypse. Great, but that means I'm never gonna be able to kiss my boyfriend and I'm gonna to die a virgin. That sucks."
Bobby makes a little strangled sound, and Marie knows without looking that he's bright red.
She expects John to continue mocking her misery, but instead he's listening, with his head cocked to the side. "Really? You're still a virgin?"
Marie shoots him a glare that could melt stone, and he quickly says, "You know I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you and that other guy, you never....?"
"We just kissed that one time," she says. "An' you know how that turned out."
She doesn't understand why John looks so befuddled. "But, you and Drake've been together a while. You must've done something."
"Well...no, not really."
"Nothing? Not even handjobs? C'mon, you can do that."
"We were takin' it slow," Marie says, and she never realized how lame that sounds until she says it aloud.
"Besides," Bobby says, "it didn't seem fair for her to do that if I couldn't get her...."
John groans and buries his head in his hands. "You two can not be this dumb. Tell me you're shitting me, please." He looks up, and seems convinced that yes, the two of them are in fact being truthful. "Look, I know you guys can't go all the way or anything --- although if you got one of those full-on latex suits you could probably manage --- but c'mon, there's lots of shit you could still do."
It was rapidly becoming the most mortifying conversation in the history of the world. "This ain't none of your business, John."
"Fine, but you guys are morons. Seriously."
The long, uncomfortable minutes stretch by, and finally Marie feels compelled to speak. "So what are we supposed to be doing? We can't even touch each other."
John rolls his eyes from his new spot stretched out on the floor, his feet up on the chair. "Yeah, you can, you're just not thinking about how to do it. And besides, if you're really that paranoid about it, you can always just watch each other get off. Rogue, you like watching anyway."
Marie feels the heat creep up her cheeks; she and Bobby are making very sure not to look at each other. "That's not really havin' sex, though is it?"
"Eh," John says. "If it would get you kicked out of the dorms, I think it counts."
Marie isn't sure if something like that would actually get someone expelled, but she's sure it would at least earn a stern talking to from Cyclops, which frankly might be enough put someone off sex forever. "Still," she mutters. Marie doesn't know why she can't let this conversation go. "It'd be nice to know what it felt like, y'know?"
"Well, it feels like it does when you're by yourself, you know?" John trails off, and Marie doesn't know what she did to give herself away, but John suddenly sits up. "Holy shit, you don't know."
Marie wishes with every fiber of her being that she could manifest Kitty's power and phase through the floor. "Can we talk about somethin' else, please?"
"No, we're talking about this. I'm right, aren't I. You've never gotten off."
Now Bobby's propped up on one elbow, looking at her, and Marie feels like she's grown another set of arms. "Really?" he says, in the exact same tone of voice he'd use it she'd confessed she was actually an alien. "Not even by yourself?"
She picks at the armrest upholstery, not willing to look at either of them. "No. I mean, not really, I guess." John snickers at the "not really." "I tried a couple of times, but...I don't know. I got bored after a while. I don't see what the big deal is," she finishes, trying to save a little face.
John heaves himself off the floor. "My God, you two are such virgins, the both of you. And Drake, you just have no excuse here, you've watched just as much porn as I have." Bobby makes a strangled sound and flashes Marie a No! That's not true! look. John throws on his coat and head for the door. "I'll be back in a bit. This is just too pathetic." The door slams behind him, and Marie and Bobby look at each other, trying to figure out what just happened.
John strolls back in two hours later carrying a plastic bag. "Bedroom. Now," he says, taking the stairs two at a time, and Marie and Bobby both shrug their shoulders and follow.
The house they're squatting in has three bedrooms, and John's made for the biggest one. He's already taking items out of the bag when they come in. "All righty," he says. "Class, eyes on me. Now, these are gloves," he says, holding up two sets of opera length latex gloves. "They go on your hands, so that when you touch stuff, there's no skin contact. With me so far?"
"John, where did you...."
"We passed a sex shop up on the main street, right after we got here. I brought some other stuff too," he says, shaking the bag, "but you two are so freaked out that I think we should just keep things simple."
Marie and Bobby both protest at the same time, "We're not freaked out," then look at each other. John perches on the bed, a smug smile on his face.
"Oh yeah. You guys are doing great. You two have been hooked up, what? A year?" He nods to Bobby. "I bet you've never even seen her naked."
Bobby sputters and goes beet red. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Pitiful."
"Hello! Standin' right here!"
John sits cross-legged on the bed, watching the two of them. "Look, I don't know what's gone wrong with you two, but you should've been able to figure ways around this ages ago. Since you didn't, I'm just trying to give you a push. You should at least try."
Marie doesn't want to try. She wants to run out of the room and disappear. She wants to go back in time and forget this whole day ever happened. She wants to kill John for putting ideas in Bobby's head, because she knows that if they start anything physical, there's only two possible outcomes: either someone makes a mistake and winds up dead, or it brings home how much he's missing out on by being with her; he wouldn't leave, because where would he go, but all the same he'll start resenting her, hating her.
She's not sure which possibility frightens her more. "I don't...."
"Let's try it." Bobby looks at her, his blue eyes earnest and hopeful. "It's not like we can lose anything by trying, right?"
Marie wants to say that they can lose everything by trying, but John speaks up first. "Look, it's up to you two," he says softly, addressing them both but looking at Marie, "but we could be looking at fifty or so years of life left, and they way you two have been going on is no way to spend it. And even if one of us croaks tomorrow, going out without even getting off once would just be such a fucking waste. We only have to do it the once, and if you don't like it, I'll leave it alone. I won't even mock you two for it. Deal?"
Marie bites her lip; her mouth suddenly feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. "Deal," she says, and Bobby's eyes light up. "But we stop if I say so."
"Well, duh, obviously. You could kill us both if we don't." John stands up and tosses a pair of the gloves to Bobby as Marie climbs onto the bed. She doesn't question whether John should be involved in this as he pulls on his gloves; she doesn't know whether it's because he's been the one supplying the momentum, or because she senses as well as he does that if left to there own devices she and Bobby would just stammer and stare nervously at each other for the rest of the night. Whatever the reason, it doesn't occur to her to tell him to leave.
"All right," he says, "you really have to get undressed now."
A little squeak escapes from her throat. In theory, she knew that this was the next step, but the thought of actually doing it suddenly fills her with panic. "No! I mean, it's not safe, do we have to...."
John finishes snapping the sleeves of his gloves up over the sleeve of his shirt; she looks over and sees that Bobby's done the same. "Look, we're as safe as we're gonna get. You've been with the poor slob a fucking year, at least give him that."
She worries her lip again. "Fine," she says, "but you two have to turn around first." Bobby gives her an indulgent smile and John rolls his eyes so far they almost fall out of his head, but they both do as she asks. She quickly slips off her blouse and jeans, and, after a moment's hesitation, strips off her bra and panties, too. She snuggles down on the bed, fighting the urge to pull the covers up over her. "Okay, turn around," she says. "Nobody laugh now."
Bobby doesn't laugh. His eyes are wide, his gaze traveling up her body, taking in slowly. "Wow," he says. "Wow, you're...you're amazing. You're just...wow." The inarticulate stammering touches her more than the most well crafted compliment ever could. He looks like he's finally seeing her for the first time, and it's so overwhelming she has to turn her face away.
"Okay, so now what?" she says, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Now you should probably close your eyes," John says. She looks at him in alarm, and he raises his hands. "This way you won't know who's doing what," he explains. "I know Drake's the one you want doing all the heavy lifting here, but he's kind of a dork and I figure I'll have to help him along, or we'll be here all night. That cool?"
She nods before she can change her mind. She settles back on the bed, shivering from chill and nerves.
Then she feels hands touch her skin. She's so touch-starved that her hips buck almost immediately; she feels fingertips trail down her thighs, the curve of her calves, the swell of her breasts. It doesn't feel anything at all like the few times she's tried it by herself; here each touch is a welcome surprise. She feels a fingertip slowly trace her areola, and a shiver rushes through her; whoever it is notices and keeps it up until she moans. She hears John say, "Don't be scared to use your powers," and suddenly she arches her back as a trail of cold creeps down her torso. She gasps and clutches at the sheets as the icy touch comes back up to her breast, and she thinks she hears Bobby laugh.
She starts to wonder if this is taking too long, if she should be saying something, doing something, when she hears John's voice in her ear. "Relax already," he says. "You're tensing up. Let us do the work, it's your first fucking time. Think of something hot and just enjoy yourself. It's supposed to be fun."
She nods and tries to follow the advice. She pictures Bobby touching her just the way he is now, only with his hands bare and warm on her skin. She imagines Bobby on top of her, his arms wrapped around her. Someone's hand moves down between her legs, and she moans as fingertips stroke the perfect spot.
The visuals in her mind change; she's remembering the dreams she used to have about Logan, back when they first met, his dark eyes flashing and deep voice growling her name. Her hips start to move in rhythm, and she sees John on top of Bobby, Bobby's head tossing on the pillow as he gets closer to coming. She feels the pressure building, and she's never gotten this close on her own; she imagines Logan pushing her up against the wall back at the mansion, both in each other's mind until she doesn't where she ends or begins, then she's got Bobby against the wall, pressing against him in a kiss that never ends. The images in the mind keep pace with the rocking of her hips, and she's so close now that it's almost painful.
Just as she thinks it's never going to happen, that this is as close as it gets (and she wouldn't really be complaining if it was), there's one more touch and she comes with a moan. She feels the sudden throb of the orgasm spread through her, making lights dance before her eyes and electricity down her legs. When the sensation passes a few seconds later, she's boneless and spent, and she has no idea why she waited so long to feel that.
It's an effort to open her eyes, and when she finally manages it the first thing she sees is Bobby. His eyes are shining. "That was incredible," he whispers. "God, I love you."
She smiles, and then John enters her frame of vision. She sees him strip off the gloves and come up behind Bobby, sliding his hands under Bobby's shirt. Bobby leans back against him as John starts undoing his jeans, and as sleep overtakes Marie her only regret about all of this is that she doesn't have enough energy to watch the ending.
***
Marie dreams of Logan often enough as it is, but now the dreams have a different color to them. Suddenly every night he's sneaking into her bed or has her stretched out on his motorcycle; it's like a floodgate has opened, and she can't get enough of him saying her name. Sometimes she comes so hard it wakes her up, and she lays there heavy-lidded and sated until the boys wake up.
One day she's asleep on the couch, but in her dream she and Logan are doing things in Cyclops' back seat that she knew he would never approve of. Suddenly she's shaken awake, and it's a moment before her bleary eyes can make out the shape standing over her. Still half in the dream, she sighs, "Logan" --- then Bobby's face comes into sharp focus.
They stare at each other for a second, then Bobby turns on his heel, without saying a word. She jumps up from the couch and tries to grab his arm; the look on his face is all it takes for her to be sure that he knows exactly what kind of dream he'd interrupted. "Bobby! Bobby, wait!"
He shakes her off. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I do! Bobby, it was a dream, you can't be mad about a dream!"
"And how often do you have that dream, huh? Do you ever dream about me, or is it always him?"
And she does dream about Bobby, but she knows he wouldn't believe it now if she told him. "It's just a dream."
"Look," he says, "I know where I stand when it comes to this, okay? I've always known. Just leave me alone."
"Bobby, wait!"
"I said leave me alone, alright? Go back to sleep so Wolverine can make you feel all better."
Then he storms out the front door, leaving her standing alone in the room.
A few hours later she's sitting on the porch, mentally rehearsing what's she'll say to Bobby when he comes back, when John plops down beside her. "Drake told me what went down."
She glares at him. "You gonna yell at me, too?"
He quirks one eyebrow. "You kidding? I just got done telling Drake what a fucktard he was. I'm actually on your side here."
"Really?"
"Yeah, shocked the hell out of him, too. He had that dying fish look on his face and everything." He glances over at her. "I dream about Magneto all the time, still. I keep expecting him to show up."
"Yeah? What kind of dreams?"
"Lots of different kinds. Sometimes it's like nothing ever changed, other times he's alive again. All different stuff."
"But you never mention it.
He shrugs. "You guys hate him. There's not much of a point."
She hugs her knees to her chest. She has a hard time wrapping her mind around how anyone couldn't hate Magneto, but she doesn't want to say that out loud and get into her second argument of the day. There's something odd in John's expression, something hungry, and a thought occurs to her. "John, you and Magneto, I mean...you were never...." She makes a vague hand motion. "You know what I mean."
A quick grin flashes across his face. "Nah. It wasn't like that."
The reaction she'd wanted was "My God, that's disgusting." Now she has to keep asking questions. "Well, good, but...I mean, you didn't really want it to be, did you?"
His hair's getting long; he has to flick it out of his eyes to look at her. "Maybe. I don't know. It doesn't matter now."
She realizes that her disgust must be written all over her face, because he rolls his eyes. "Oh, so what's wrong with that? I shouldn't be attracted to him because he's evil?"
"Yes! And besides, he's old enough to be your grandfather!"
"Yeah? And how old is Logan, anyway?"
She turns away and stubs her sneaker into the dirt. "That's different."
She knows he's smirking without even having to turn around and see. "Why? 'Cause he doesn't look it? That's kind of shallow."
She hugs her arms around herself. Rising to his bait wasn't going to make her feel any better. "Bobby's never yelled at me like that before."
"Yeah, well, he's beating himself up for it now, believe me." He temples his chin on his hands. "You know what most of that was, right?"
She shakes her head. Tears are pricking at her eyes, and she doesn't want to start crying again. "He's scared to death that Wolverine's gonna show up one day and you'll run off with him. That he doesn't stand a chance in comparison." He cocks his head to the side. "He right?"
"I...." She imagines Logan suddenly appearing one day, alone for all this time, asking for her help. "I don't know," she finally admits.
"'Least you're honest."
"Well, what about you?" she says. "What if Magneto showed up tomorrow, would you go off with him?"
"In a second." The speed in which he answers knocks Marie back. "Not even a question."
"You can't really mean that."
"Yeah, I do." He leans back on his elbow. "You and Drake don't get it. Everything made sense with Magneto. Everything fit. He saw something in me no one else did, y'know? I was important. No one really cared what I did at Xavier's, but what I did mattered in the Brotherhood."
Marie wants to shake sense into him and scream He was just using you! until it finally breaks through. She wonders how long it'll take before that pedestal crumbles. "You mattered at Xavier's."
"C'mon. He didn't even send someone after me when I left. You, Drake, he would've at least tried. I didn't swallow the party line, so I was just kind of a spare." She about to protest some more, but he cuts her off. "Look, I'm not even saying I'm mad about it. That's just how it is. Besides, I was trying to make you feel better, not getting into all this again."
She tucks her knees up to her chest and fights the urge to sniffle. "Why're you bein' so nice to me, anyway? You don't even like me. I always knew you didn't like me."
John drums his fingers against his arm. "It wasn't that I didn't like you," he says, finally. "I didn't even really know you. I guess I was just tired of hearing about you." He sighs. "Me and Drake, we both started there the same day, and we were tight right away. Then all of a sudden you show up, and it's 'Oh, Rogue's had such a hard time,' and 'Wow, isn't Rogue amazing!' It was all he started talking about. Then you two actually started dating, and that was it, that was all he cared about."
"So...you were jealous? That's why you were such a jerk?"
"I wasn't jealous, I was...well, okay, maybe a little jealous. I missed my buddy, you know? It was like you kidnapped him. All of a sudden I was a third wheel."
"I didn't mean for that to happen."
"I didn't say it was your fault. Stuff that like just happens." He let out a long breath. "Anyway, I was a pretty big jerk, and I kind of wanted to apologize. Okay?"
She can see the flash of loneliness behind his eyes. "Okay."
"Well, good, then." He suddenly starts fidgeting. "Well, I'll just get lost then...."
"Wait," Marie says. "He's comin' back, right?"
John laughs. "Of course he is. And if he doesn't, we just have to go out and drag him."
Bobby does come back that night, and with flowers no less. They sit on the back porch and watch the stars come out, and out of the corner of her eye Marie sees a shape skulking along in the shadows. When she finally makes John out she beckons for him to come over; he hesitates for a second, then saunters over as if he's been just on his way to do this very thing, thank you very much. Bobby shifts over to make room, and as John sits down he locks eyes with Marie. After a few minutes she sees John glance over, then reach out and take Bobby's hand. Instead of pulling away, she sees Bobby squeeze his hand back, and John settles back with a dumbfounded look on his face. Then Bobby wraps one arm around her shoulders, and they all watch the stars come out.
***
They chance across a map; it takes them most of a day to figure out the path they've been taking, but as they plot out their course they all come to realize that they've been heading for Westchester, like a trio of mutant homing pigeons. They briefly discuss going somewhere else, but then decide to just keep heading out.
It's as good a destination as any.
***
The nights settle into routine. They can find houses to sleep in more often than not, now; Marie can't remember the last time they've had to camp outside. She usually goes first; she's discovered that she likes being blindfolded so there's no chance of knowing whose hands are where, although as the nights go on she's finding that the distinction matters less and less. John whispers the filthiest things imaginable into her ear as Bobby's hands are everywhere at once, teasing and trailing cold until she's writhing and begging; then after she's finished she rolls over and watches the boys.
Bobby comes in gasps and whispers, half the time saying her name and the other half John's; John swears as he gets close, and the name he says is always Bobby's. Sometimes she joins in with them; double-teaming Bobby is especially fun, teasing and touching until his hair is plastered against his face, but most of the time she just watches them: the way John's hands trail down Bobby's ribs, the way the moonlight highlights John's collarbone as Bobby leans down to kiss him.
In the morning they pack up and move on. There's never need for discussion; all of their talking is done in the night.
***
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters sits on Greymalkin Lane like an open wound. Marie doesn't know what she expected, but not this: torn open, bricks and glass and broken furniture littering the courtyard. Less then half of the building is still standing, but that's still a substantial amount of property, and John and Bobby decide to see what they can find.
Marie wanders the grounds, mentally trying to reconstruct the shattered building in her mind's eye. A part of her had hoped that the school would still be home.
She winds up in the kitchen and pulls out one of the chairs, the one Kitty and Piotr had carved their initials into. She's about to go and look for the boys when she sees something white and clean tacked onto the kitchen corkboard.
Something with her name on it.
She recognizes Logan's handwriting on the envelope immediately and tears it open: the letter is short, hurried, and the knot in her stomach grows a little more with each word.
Marie -
I know you'll get this because I know that if anyone made it out of this, it's you. I know I'm not fit to be around people right now; after what happened I don't know if I ever will be again. Don't come looking for me. You won't like what you find.
You don't need me anymore. You haven't for a long time. Keep surviving.
Logan
John and Bobby come back as she's reading the letter for the fifth time. She hands it to them, and they take turns reading it. Finally, John tosses the letter on the table. "Man, what a dick." Bobby puts one arm around her shoulders, and John holds her hand for the first time.
They give her a minute alone. When she's sure neither of them are looking she begins to pocket the letter, but then stops. Instead she smoothes it out on the table and reads it again, memorizing every word, every curve and line. Then turns the letter over and, taking the marker hanging from the board, writes I will across the blank reverse side. Then she pins the letter back up in the same place where she found the envelope and walks away.
When they leave, none of them look back.
***
The three of them are sprawled out in the centerfield of the baseball diamond behind the school, watching the clouds. Marie feels like they should have found some answers here, but it's just been another dead end. Now what? is the question on everyone's mind.
"I've got family in Australia," John says suddenly. "Aunt and uncles and stuff. At least, I did. I was seven the last time I saw them; couldn't pick them out of a line-up now."
"Why would you have family in Australia?" Bobby says, plucking the grass from the ground.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I was born there?"
"You're Australian?" Bobby says, and Marie doesn't think Bobby could sound anymore surprised if John has announced he was actually a woman.
"Well, yeah, I guess. Like I said, moved here when I was seven."
"Huh."
A few minutes crawl by. "So, what?" Marie finally says. "You think we should run off to Australia to see if they're still there?"
John shrugs. "Why not? You two got other plans?"
"How would we get there?" Bobby asks. "And how do we know there's even anyone there?"
"There's still people in Germany, we know that," John says. "And the first question, you two have had Blackbird training, right?"
"Well, yeah."
"I've got flight training, too. There's gotta be still planes that work somewhere. Unless you guys have a better idea.."
The look on Bobby's face is thoughtful. "It's a long way. It could take a while."
Marie squeeze. his hand. "We've got the time."
He smiles at her, then looks back at the sky. They've been wandering aimlessly for so long that actually having a goal is exciting in and of itself. "All right by me," he says, and John grins. A flock of geese fly overhead in a V, proof that the world is still turning. "Let's head out first thing in the morning."
Author: misachan
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Rating: R
Pairing: Rogue/Iceman/Pyro
Warnings: Sex and some salty language
Recipient: nekare
Request: Rogue, Bobby and John end up having to deal each other again when they find themselves pretty much alone.
Summary: When everything else is stripped away, all you have to lean on is each other.
"Your turn, Bobby."
"I know, I know, give me a second to decide."
John lets out an exasperated groan. "There's only two choices. Why do you always take forever to do this?"
"Fine. Truth."
"You're such a puss, Drake. Would it kill you to pick dare just once?"
Bobby props himself up against the couch. "I have nothing to hide. Ask away."
It's been getting more and more common to find abandoned houses to crash in; tonight's house is a lovely split-level ranch that formerly belonged to the Andersons, who were thoughtful enough to have a fully stocked liquor cabinet in the event of Apocalypse. Marie taps her fingernail against her tumbler of rum and tries to think of a good question; Bobby had stubbornly picked Truth every time his turn came around, and she was running out of things to ask.
Also, the rum wasn't helping. "Um...all right, who's the first girl you've kissed?"
"Susan Donner, third grade," John and Bobby both say at once. "You asked that one already," John says. "Drink up."
"Oh. Right." Repeat questions mean you have to take a drink, as does not answering a question if you pick truth or not doing a dare. They were well into their second bottle already; Marie thinks she likes this pineapple flavored stuff better than the straight rum they'd started with. "Okay, then. Guess it's your turn."
A few more rounds go by; John winds up forced to climb up on the roof to shout, "I'm king of the world," by Bobby (John always picks dare, which is also why his hair is currently purple), and Marie proves that she can in fact sing all the female roles from "Once More with Feeling." Finally Bobby's turn comes around again, and again he picks Truth. Marie can tell John's about to leap up and strangle him.
"All right, um..." She fumbles for a question that Bobby hasn't already answered; she already knows the whens, wheres and hows of his first kiss (Susan Donner in third grade under the monkey bars), where he was when his powers kicked in (he turned his swimming pool into a skating rink accidently), the worst trouble his powers had ever gotten him in, pre-X Men (he'd had to outrun the cops after they caught him making ice slides in Central Park), who the hottest teacher at the school was (Jean, of course, it was always Jean), and any number of other things she isn't quite sober enough to remember. She keeps wanting to ask about kisses; she knows it's because the only way she'll get to kiss Bobby is vicariously, but all the same it's a bit like ripping off a scab each time. She wonders if she can blame this masochistic streak on the rum.
He seems to be reading her mind. "You already know everything about every girl I've ever kissed," he says. "Y'know. Before you ask again."
She glares at him; drinking brought out a smirky side to him that she didn't care for at all. "Fine," she says, words rushing out on impulse, "who's the first guy you've kissed then, if I've run through all the girls."
She expects him to roll his eyes and laugh. When instead he goes pale as a ghost and his eyes wide as saucers, her attention piques, and when he knocks back some rum instead of answering she feels the game really start to get interesting. "You've kissed a guy?" she says, her voice rising to a squeal. "Who?"
"Hey," Bobby protests, "it's not my turn anymore, I took the drink...."
"I'm just gonna ask during the next go-round, so you might as well answer now."
"But that's not how the rules...."
"Just tell her, Drake," John says, spinning the empty bottle on the floor. "You're holding everything up. It's not that big a deal."
"Wait, you know?" she starts to say, but then she sees the panicked way Bobby's looking at John out of the corner of his eye, practically screaming shut up shut up shut up, and the way John's lips are curving up ever so slightly in response, like he knows the joke and is waiting for everyone else to catch on. She's glad that she's already sitting down. "You two?" she says. "Bobby, John's the guy you've kissed?"
John smiles full-on then, and Bobby starts stammering, "Look, Rogue, I'm sorry, I should have told you, I know, don't be mad, I'm sorry...."
She's far too confused to be mad at the moment. "Wait, when did this even start?"
"About a month after we both started at Xavier's," John says, and Bobby shoots him an incredulous why would you say that? look.
"So...wait, that's when it started, when did it stop?" Guilt flashes through Bobby's eyes, and she knows the answer to her next question even as she asks it. "Bobby, where you and John still carrying on after we got together?"
Both boys start talking at once, until finally John whaps Bobby on the shoulder to shut him up. "Not the whole time. Mostly in the beginning."
Marie keeps looking back and forth between Bobby and John. "You were cheating on me?"
John rolls his eyes. "Would'ya stop being so dramatic?" he says. "Look, we were just messing around. It doesn't even count, really."
"Why? Because you're both guys?"
John just shrugs his shoulders. "Well, yeah. It's not like he was making out with another girl behind your back or anything. It's just not the same."
She's certain that the logic to that doesn't scan at all, but she doesn't feel up to grappling with it just now. Bobby's flushed almost cherry red, which makes her think of what the slang term "cherry" means, which brings her back around to trying to picture Bobby and John. She knows that she should feel much more upset about this revelation than she actually does, that this strange, lightheaded, close-to-giddy feeling isn't the appropriate response. She blames the rum.
"Show me," she says, and she blames the rum for that too.
Bobby blanches. "Hey look, let's just get back to the game...."
"Bobby, c'mon. You were kissin' him behind my back for the Lord only knows how long. That's better than doin' it so I can see?"
Bobby sputters a little more, until John's finally had enough. "Just shut it, Drake," he says, getting up (only slightly unsteadily) and walking over to Bobby. "Let's just get this over with." With that he pulls Bobby up by his arm, leans forward (Marie leans forward, too), and kisses him full on the mouth.
For a moment they're all still as statues. Everyone's holding their breath, and then like a dam breaking the tension bleeds away and Bobby returns the kiss. Marie can feel her blood rushing hot and fast through her veins; she notices everything: John's hair hanging in Bobby's face, the way his right hand is cradling the nape of his neck. She sees Bobby's arm reach up, his hand pressed against John's side, and wonders if Bobby's even knows he's doing it. She sees quick flashes of tongue, notices how Bobby, not John, is the one who leans forward now to press into the kiss. By the time John pulls away a few seconds later, she's just as flushed and breathless as the two of them.
Bobby plops back down next to the couch, and John walks back over to his previous spot. For a few moments no one says anything, then John drains the rum left in his glass. "Okay, so, it's my turn now...."
***
The next night they play again, and this time John and Bobby do more than kiss. Marie watches then, too.
***
They meet their first survivor while rummaging for supplies in a little town just past the Kentucky state line (they know because half of the "Welcome to Kentucky! The Bluegrass State!" was still standing). They've been alone been so long they've forgotten to be careful, so when the man comes up behind Marie and locks his right arm around her neck and holds a razor blade under her chin with his left, he catches them completely off-guard. "I don't want any trouble, now!" he says, dragging her away from the dumbfounded boys.
It takes a second for them to shake off the surprise, but then the fire and ice come out. "Well, you've got it," says Bobby, frost covering his fingers.
"Don't want no trouble!" he says again "Been looking for my daughter for weeks now. Always runnin' off, but I found her, now we just got to go home. April, say goodbye to your friends, now." The volume is rising with each rambling word; Marie angles her head enough to see the man's face, especially his huge, bloodshot, and completely insane eyes. "We just want to go home."
"Let her go," Bobby says, and she can see John's eyes flick around as he looks for something advantageous to burn.
"Just want to take my daughter home," he repeats, but this time sobs break through the words. He forces the point of the blade under her chin, and John and Bobby both stop. "We just want to go home."
"I'm not your daughter," Marie says, forcing her voice to stay even. For all of his strength, she can feel that the man is skin and bones. "My name's Marie. I'm from Mississippi. We're survivors, just like you."
He shakes his head wildly. "You don't worry, Daddy's found you. Daddy'll keep you safe now, don't you worry. Everything's gong to be just fine now." He tightens his arm around her neck, and dark spots start to appear in front of her eyes. She can see Bobby take a step forward, but John pulls him back; Bobby has a mutinous look on his face, but she wants to tell him that John's right. She can feel the point of the blade pricking her skin, and all it would take would be a flick of the wrist and her throat would be open.
The man's still rambling on about his daughter as he drags her out of the house. Between the cuff of her glove and the sleeve of her blouse there's the smallest sliver of wrist visible. She can see out of the corner of her eye that the man's shirt has a rip in the elbow, and slowly, very, very slowly, she raises her arm and presses her skin against his.
She only intends to stun, but it's been too long since she's been forced to do this, and her control was never the best. She sees his life in a flash; Roger, a welder, he was repairing a vault and so escaped. She sees the daughter, green-eyed and laughing and everything good in the world, and indeed there's a resemblance there. She feels the desperate search, the empty town pressing down on her, the isolation and despair turning to madness and obsession as his life flows into her like water from a broken faucet. She wants to let go and can't, and as his mind slips down into blackness she follows it, down the way she'd followed David's but further and deeper into the vast, inky, suffocating darkness.
When she comes to she's screaming and can't stop. She's clutched onto John and doesn't know how she got there; he's got his arms around her and muttering words into her ear, holding her up as she screams her throat raw. Bobby steps forward, reaches out to touch her, but she shrinks way, and she can feel John put himself between herself and Bobby. "Back off, Drake."
"What? But..."
"You have any idea what it's like to kill someone? Any idea? No? Then back the fuck off." She sees Bobby draw back white with shock, then she buries her face against John's shoulder so she doesn't have to look at him---or the broken body on the ground behind him.
***
Bobby's turn comes two weeks later. Where the man was raving, this woman is angry. She comes on them like a whirlwind; bedraggled hair and a threadbare executive's suit that Marie could tell cost hundred of dollars back when that would have meant something.
She has John on the ground; his lighter's been knocked out of reach, and the muzzle of the woman's rifle is inches from his face. Marie's head is ringing from being struck with the stock, and her hand comes back bloody when she pushes her hair out of her eyes.
"Mutie freaks," the woman says. Her voice is calm and steady. "You did this. Everyone's dead, and it's because of freakshows like you. The government should have rounded you all up and gassed you when it had the chance."
"Please," Marie says, "we didn't do anything." She can see Bobby icing up out of the corner of her eye. "Just let him go."
John tries to skitter towards his lighter, and the woman presses the rifle against his temple. "I'll bet you three thought humans were defenseless now," she says, ignoring Marie completely. "I'll show you how defenseless we really are." Marie sees the hammer pull back and knows she can't get there in time. She closes her eyes and waits for the blast.
It doesn't come. She opens her eyes and sees the woman still standing over John, but with the gun lying at her feet and a very strange look on her face. Her mouth opens several times, but no words come out, and it's now that Marie sees the growing blood stains all down the woman's chest. She crumples to the ground in what seems like slow motion, her hands clutching spasmodically at the dirt before finally going still. It isn't until the woman's on the ground that Marie sees what killed her --- a series of ice knives down her back.
Bobby comes forward like a sleepwalker. "I didn't...I mean, I wasn't trying to...." He looks back and forth between John and Marie. "I couldn't aim, she was going to kill him, I didn't have time...." His breath is coming ragged now, and his voice breaks. "I...oh God, I swear, I didn't...."
He turns away from the body. John picks himself up and reclaims his lighter, all the while looking at Bobby like he's never seen him before, and Marie wonders if John really thought Bobby wouldn't save him.
She holds Bobby as he retches, and John incinerates the body behind them, the flames rising high.
A few nights later Bobby jolts awake from another nightmare, waking Marie up along with him. "John?" he says, after a few minutes. "John, you up?"
They hear a groan from a few feet away. "I am now. Whatta you want, Drake?"
"Was that what it was like? When you were running with the Brotherhood?" There's no answer, and Bobby presses on. "I know you killed people. Was it like that every time?"
"Yeah." His voice is empty of its usual bravado, sounding so unlike himself that feels like she's meeting him for the first time. "Every time."
"Fuck, John, I had no idea."
She hears John rolling over. "Yeah. Kinda wish you still didn't, to be honest."
"Yeah."
A minute or so passes. "We done?" says John's voice. "Can I go back to sleep now, or do we have to bond some more first?"
Bobby laughs, and Marie's glad to hear that sound again. "Fuck you, John."
"Back at you, Drake."
Bobby laughs again, and as she drifts back to sleep Marie can feel that something's shifted between the three of them.
***
"You know what really sucks?"
It's been raining all day, and they've worked most of the way through a bottle of wine. The topic of, "Hey, you know what I miss?" had come up, and they'd spent a few hours discussing X-Boxes and sno-cones and really salty movie popcorn. John brought up that that he missed porn, which had made Marie throw a pillow at his head. It had also made her think, though.
"I mean," she continues, "aside from the death and destruction, what sucks for me personally?"
John's sprawled out in an armchair, trying to balance the now-empty wine bottle on his head. "Is there any way you won't tell us? 'Cause I'll do it, whatever it takes."
"Shut up, John, no one's talkin' to you." She throws herself down on the couch, narrowly missing Bobby, who's stretched out with his legs dangling over the armrest. "At least at Xavier's there was the chance that we'd figure out how to control my powers somehow. Now that's probably not ever gonna happen."
"Looks like."
She doesn't have anything handy to throw at John, but if she did, oh, would she be throwing. "So I managed to survive the Apocalypse. Great, but that means I'm never gonna be able to kiss my boyfriend and I'm gonna to die a virgin. That sucks."
Bobby makes a little strangled sound, and Marie knows without looking that he's bright red.
She expects John to continue mocking her misery, but instead he's listening, with his head cocked to the side. "Really? You're still a virgin?"
Marie shoots him a glare that could melt stone, and he quickly says, "You know I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you and that other guy, you never....?"
"We just kissed that one time," she says. "An' you know how that turned out."
She doesn't understand why John looks so befuddled. "But, you and Drake've been together a while. You must've done something."
"Well...no, not really."
"Nothing? Not even handjobs? C'mon, you can do that."
"We were takin' it slow," Marie says, and she never realized how lame that sounds until she says it aloud.
"Besides," Bobby says, "it didn't seem fair for her to do that if I couldn't get her...."
John groans and buries his head in his hands. "You two can not be this dumb. Tell me you're shitting me, please." He looks up, and seems convinced that yes, the two of them are in fact being truthful. "Look, I know you guys can't go all the way or anything --- although if you got one of those full-on latex suits you could probably manage --- but c'mon, there's lots of shit you could still do."
It was rapidly becoming the most mortifying conversation in the history of the world. "This ain't none of your business, John."
"Fine, but you guys are morons. Seriously."
The long, uncomfortable minutes stretch by, and finally Marie feels compelled to speak. "So what are we supposed to be doing? We can't even touch each other."
John rolls his eyes from his new spot stretched out on the floor, his feet up on the chair. "Yeah, you can, you're just not thinking about how to do it. And besides, if you're really that paranoid about it, you can always just watch each other get off. Rogue, you like watching anyway."
Marie feels the heat creep up her cheeks; she and Bobby are making very sure not to look at each other. "That's not really havin' sex, though is it?"
"Eh," John says. "If it would get you kicked out of the dorms, I think it counts."
Marie isn't sure if something like that would actually get someone expelled, but she's sure it would at least earn a stern talking to from Cyclops, which frankly might be enough put someone off sex forever. "Still," she mutters. Marie doesn't know why she can't let this conversation go. "It'd be nice to know what it felt like, y'know?"
"Well, it feels like it does when you're by yourself, you know?" John trails off, and Marie doesn't know what she did to give herself away, but John suddenly sits up. "Holy shit, you don't know."
Marie wishes with every fiber of her being that she could manifest Kitty's power and phase through the floor. "Can we talk about somethin' else, please?"
"No, we're talking about this. I'm right, aren't I. You've never gotten off."
Now Bobby's propped up on one elbow, looking at her, and Marie feels like she's grown another set of arms. "Really?" he says, in the exact same tone of voice he'd use it she'd confessed she was actually an alien. "Not even by yourself?"
She picks at the armrest upholstery, not willing to look at either of them. "No. I mean, not really, I guess." John snickers at the "not really." "I tried a couple of times, but...I don't know. I got bored after a while. I don't see what the big deal is," she finishes, trying to save a little face.
John heaves himself off the floor. "My God, you two are such virgins, the both of you. And Drake, you just have no excuse here, you've watched just as much porn as I have." Bobby makes a strangled sound and flashes Marie a No! That's not true! look. John throws on his coat and head for the door. "I'll be back in a bit. This is just too pathetic." The door slams behind him, and Marie and Bobby look at each other, trying to figure out what just happened.
John strolls back in two hours later carrying a plastic bag. "Bedroom. Now," he says, taking the stairs two at a time, and Marie and Bobby both shrug their shoulders and follow.
The house they're squatting in has three bedrooms, and John's made for the biggest one. He's already taking items out of the bag when they come in. "All righty," he says. "Class, eyes on me. Now, these are gloves," he says, holding up two sets of opera length latex gloves. "They go on your hands, so that when you touch stuff, there's no skin contact. With me so far?"
"John, where did you...."
"We passed a sex shop up on the main street, right after we got here. I brought some other stuff too," he says, shaking the bag, "but you two are so freaked out that I think we should just keep things simple."
Marie and Bobby both protest at the same time, "We're not freaked out," then look at each other. John perches on the bed, a smug smile on his face.
"Oh yeah. You guys are doing great. You two have been hooked up, what? A year?" He nods to Bobby. "I bet you've never even seen her naked."
Bobby sputters and goes beet red. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Pitiful."
"Hello! Standin' right here!"
John sits cross-legged on the bed, watching the two of them. "Look, I don't know what's gone wrong with you two, but you should've been able to figure ways around this ages ago. Since you didn't, I'm just trying to give you a push. You should at least try."
Marie doesn't want to try. She wants to run out of the room and disappear. She wants to go back in time and forget this whole day ever happened. She wants to kill John for putting ideas in Bobby's head, because she knows that if they start anything physical, there's only two possible outcomes: either someone makes a mistake and winds up dead, or it brings home how much he's missing out on by being with her; he wouldn't leave, because where would he go, but all the same he'll start resenting her, hating her.
She's not sure which possibility frightens her more. "I don't...."
"Let's try it." Bobby looks at her, his blue eyes earnest and hopeful. "It's not like we can lose anything by trying, right?"
Marie wants to say that they can lose everything by trying, but John speaks up first. "Look, it's up to you two," he says softly, addressing them both but looking at Marie, "but we could be looking at fifty or so years of life left, and they way you two have been going on is no way to spend it. And even if one of us croaks tomorrow, going out without even getting off once would just be such a fucking waste. We only have to do it the once, and if you don't like it, I'll leave it alone. I won't even mock you two for it. Deal?"
Marie bites her lip; her mouth suddenly feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. "Deal," she says, and Bobby's eyes light up. "But we stop if I say so."
"Well, duh, obviously. You could kill us both if we don't." John stands up and tosses a pair of the gloves to Bobby as Marie climbs onto the bed. She doesn't question whether John should be involved in this as he pulls on his gloves; she doesn't know whether it's because he's been the one supplying the momentum, or because she senses as well as he does that if left to there own devices she and Bobby would just stammer and stare nervously at each other for the rest of the night. Whatever the reason, it doesn't occur to her to tell him to leave.
"All right," he says, "you really have to get undressed now."
A little squeak escapes from her throat. In theory, she knew that this was the next step, but the thought of actually doing it suddenly fills her with panic. "No! I mean, it's not safe, do we have to...."
John finishes snapping the sleeves of his gloves up over the sleeve of his shirt; she looks over and sees that Bobby's done the same. "Look, we're as safe as we're gonna get. You've been with the poor slob a fucking year, at least give him that."
She worries her lip again. "Fine," she says, "but you two have to turn around first." Bobby gives her an indulgent smile and John rolls his eyes so far they almost fall out of his head, but they both do as she asks. She quickly slips off her blouse and jeans, and, after a moment's hesitation, strips off her bra and panties, too. She snuggles down on the bed, fighting the urge to pull the covers up over her. "Okay, turn around," she says. "Nobody laugh now."
Bobby doesn't laugh. His eyes are wide, his gaze traveling up her body, taking in slowly. "Wow," he says. "Wow, you're...you're amazing. You're just...wow." The inarticulate stammering touches her more than the most well crafted compliment ever could. He looks like he's finally seeing her for the first time, and it's so overwhelming she has to turn her face away.
"Okay, so now what?" she says, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Now you should probably close your eyes," John says. She looks at him in alarm, and he raises his hands. "This way you won't know who's doing what," he explains. "I know Drake's the one you want doing all the heavy lifting here, but he's kind of a dork and I figure I'll have to help him along, or we'll be here all night. That cool?"
She nods before she can change her mind. She settles back on the bed, shivering from chill and nerves.
Then she feels hands touch her skin. She's so touch-starved that her hips buck almost immediately; she feels fingertips trail down her thighs, the curve of her calves, the swell of her breasts. It doesn't feel anything at all like the few times she's tried it by herself; here each touch is a welcome surprise. She feels a fingertip slowly trace her areola, and a shiver rushes through her; whoever it is notices and keeps it up until she moans. She hears John say, "Don't be scared to use your powers," and suddenly she arches her back as a trail of cold creeps down her torso. She gasps and clutches at the sheets as the icy touch comes back up to her breast, and she thinks she hears Bobby laugh.
She starts to wonder if this is taking too long, if she should be saying something, doing something, when she hears John's voice in her ear. "Relax already," he says. "You're tensing up. Let us do the work, it's your first fucking time. Think of something hot and just enjoy yourself. It's supposed to be fun."
She nods and tries to follow the advice. She pictures Bobby touching her just the way he is now, only with his hands bare and warm on her skin. She imagines Bobby on top of her, his arms wrapped around her. Someone's hand moves down between her legs, and she moans as fingertips stroke the perfect spot.
The visuals in her mind change; she's remembering the dreams she used to have about Logan, back when they first met, his dark eyes flashing and deep voice growling her name. Her hips start to move in rhythm, and she sees John on top of Bobby, Bobby's head tossing on the pillow as he gets closer to coming. She feels the pressure building, and she's never gotten this close on her own; she imagines Logan pushing her up against the wall back at the mansion, both in each other's mind until she doesn't where she ends or begins, then she's got Bobby against the wall, pressing against him in a kiss that never ends. The images in the mind keep pace with the rocking of her hips, and she's so close now that it's almost painful.
Just as she thinks it's never going to happen, that this is as close as it gets (and she wouldn't really be complaining if it was), there's one more touch and she comes with a moan. She feels the sudden throb of the orgasm spread through her, making lights dance before her eyes and electricity down her legs. When the sensation passes a few seconds later, she's boneless and spent, and she has no idea why she waited so long to feel that.
It's an effort to open her eyes, and when she finally manages it the first thing she sees is Bobby. His eyes are shining. "That was incredible," he whispers. "God, I love you."
She smiles, and then John enters her frame of vision. She sees him strip off the gloves and come up behind Bobby, sliding his hands under Bobby's shirt. Bobby leans back against him as John starts undoing his jeans, and as sleep overtakes Marie her only regret about all of this is that she doesn't have enough energy to watch the ending.
***
Marie dreams of Logan often enough as it is, but now the dreams have a different color to them. Suddenly every night he's sneaking into her bed or has her stretched out on his motorcycle; it's like a floodgate has opened, and she can't get enough of him saying her name. Sometimes she comes so hard it wakes her up, and she lays there heavy-lidded and sated until the boys wake up.
One day she's asleep on the couch, but in her dream she and Logan are doing things in Cyclops' back seat that she knew he would never approve of. Suddenly she's shaken awake, and it's a moment before her bleary eyes can make out the shape standing over her. Still half in the dream, she sighs, "Logan" --- then Bobby's face comes into sharp focus.
They stare at each other for a second, then Bobby turns on his heel, without saying a word. She jumps up from the couch and tries to grab his arm; the look on his face is all it takes for her to be sure that he knows exactly what kind of dream he'd interrupted. "Bobby! Bobby, wait!"
He shakes her off. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I do! Bobby, it was a dream, you can't be mad about a dream!"
"And how often do you have that dream, huh? Do you ever dream about me, or is it always him?"
And she does dream about Bobby, but she knows he wouldn't believe it now if she told him. "It's just a dream."
"Look," he says, "I know where I stand when it comes to this, okay? I've always known. Just leave me alone."
"Bobby, wait!"
"I said leave me alone, alright? Go back to sleep so Wolverine can make you feel all better."
Then he storms out the front door, leaving her standing alone in the room.
A few hours later she's sitting on the porch, mentally rehearsing what's she'll say to Bobby when he comes back, when John plops down beside her. "Drake told me what went down."
She glares at him. "You gonna yell at me, too?"
He quirks one eyebrow. "You kidding? I just got done telling Drake what a fucktard he was. I'm actually on your side here."
"Really?"
"Yeah, shocked the hell out of him, too. He had that dying fish look on his face and everything." He glances over at her. "I dream about Magneto all the time, still. I keep expecting him to show up."
"Yeah? What kind of dreams?"
"Lots of different kinds. Sometimes it's like nothing ever changed, other times he's alive again. All different stuff."
"But you never mention it.
He shrugs. "You guys hate him. There's not much of a point."
She hugs her knees to her chest. She has a hard time wrapping her mind around how anyone couldn't hate Magneto, but she doesn't want to say that out loud and get into her second argument of the day. There's something odd in John's expression, something hungry, and a thought occurs to her. "John, you and Magneto, I mean...you were never...." She makes a vague hand motion. "You know what I mean."
A quick grin flashes across his face. "Nah. It wasn't like that."
The reaction she'd wanted was "My God, that's disgusting." Now she has to keep asking questions. "Well, good, but...I mean, you didn't really want it to be, did you?"
His hair's getting long; he has to flick it out of his eyes to look at her. "Maybe. I don't know. It doesn't matter now."
She realizes that her disgust must be written all over her face, because he rolls his eyes. "Oh, so what's wrong with that? I shouldn't be attracted to him because he's evil?"
"Yes! And besides, he's old enough to be your grandfather!"
"Yeah? And how old is Logan, anyway?"
She turns away and stubs her sneaker into the dirt. "That's different."
She knows he's smirking without even having to turn around and see. "Why? 'Cause he doesn't look it? That's kind of shallow."
She hugs her arms around herself. Rising to his bait wasn't going to make her feel any better. "Bobby's never yelled at me like that before."
"Yeah, well, he's beating himself up for it now, believe me." He temples his chin on his hands. "You know what most of that was, right?"
She shakes her head. Tears are pricking at her eyes, and she doesn't want to start crying again. "He's scared to death that Wolverine's gonna show up one day and you'll run off with him. That he doesn't stand a chance in comparison." He cocks his head to the side. "He right?"
"I...." She imagines Logan suddenly appearing one day, alone for all this time, asking for her help. "I don't know," she finally admits.
"'Least you're honest."
"Well, what about you?" she says. "What if Magneto showed up tomorrow, would you go off with him?"
"In a second." The speed in which he answers knocks Marie back. "Not even a question."
"You can't really mean that."
"Yeah, I do." He leans back on his elbow. "You and Drake don't get it. Everything made sense with Magneto. Everything fit. He saw something in me no one else did, y'know? I was important. No one really cared what I did at Xavier's, but what I did mattered in the Brotherhood."
Marie wants to shake sense into him and scream He was just using you! until it finally breaks through. She wonders how long it'll take before that pedestal crumbles. "You mattered at Xavier's."
"C'mon. He didn't even send someone after me when I left. You, Drake, he would've at least tried. I didn't swallow the party line, so I was just kind of a spare." She about to protest some more, but he cuts her off. "Look, I'm not even saying I'm mad about it. That's just how it is. Besides, I was trying to make you feel better, not getting into all this again."
She tucks her knees up to her chest and fights the urge to sniffle. "Why're you bein' so nice to me, anyway? You don't even like me. I always knew you didn't like me."
John drums his fingers against his arm. "It wasn't that I didn't like you," he says, finally. "I didn't even really know you. I guess I was just tired of hearing about you." He sighs. "Me and Drake, we both started there the same day, and we were tight right away. Then all of a sudden you show up, and it's 'Oh, Rogue's had such a hard time,' and 'Wow, isn't Rogue amazing!' It was all he started talking about. Then you two actually started dating, and that was it, that was all he cared about."
"So...you were jealous? That's why you were such a jerk?"
"I wasn't jealous, I was...well, okay, maybe a little jealous. I missed my buddy, you know? It was like you kidnapped him. All of a sudden I was a third wheel."
"I didn't mean for that to happen."
"I didn't say it was your fault. Stuff that like just happens." He let out a long breath. "Anyway, I was a pretty big jerk, and I kind of wanted to apologize. Okay?"
She can see the flash of loneliness behind his eyes. "Okay."
"Well, good, then." He suddenly starts fidgeting. "Well, I'll just get lost then...."
"Wait," Marie says. "He's comin' back, right?"
John laughs. "Of course he is. And if he doesn't, we just have to go out and drag him."
Bobby does come back that night, and with flowers no less. They sit on the back porch and watch the stars come out, and out of the corner of her eye Marie sees a shape skulking along in the shadows. When she finally makes John out she beckons for him to come over; he hesitates for a second, then saunters over as if he's been just on his way to do this very thing, thank you very much. Bobby shifts over to make room, and as John sits down he locks eyes with Marie. After a few minutes she sees John glance over, then reach out and take Bobby's hand. Instead of pulling away, she sees Bobby squeeze his hand back, and John settles back with a dumbfounded look on his face. Then Bobby wraps one arm around her shoulders, and they all watch the stars come out.
***
They chance across a map; it takes them most of a day to figure out the path they've been taking, but as they plot out their course they all come to realize that they've been heading for Westchester, like a trio of mutant homing pigeons. They briefly discuss going somewhere else, but then decide to just keep heading out.
It's as good a destination as any.
***
The nights settle into routine. They can find houses to sleep in more often than not, now; Marie can't remember the last time they've had to camp outside. She usually goes first; she's discovered that she likes being blindfolded so there's no chance of knowing whose hands are where, although as the nights go on she's finding that the distinction matters less and less. John whispers the filthiest things imaginable into her ear as Bobby's hands are everywhere at once, teasing and trailing cold until she's writhing and begging; then after she's finished she rolls over and watches the boys.
Bobby comes in gasps and whispers, half the time saying her name and the other half John's; John swears as he gets close, and the name he says is always Bobby's. Sometimes she joins in with them; double-teaming Bobby is especially fun, teasing and touching until his hair is plastered against his face, but most of the time she just watches them: the way John's hands trail down Bobby's ribs, the way the moonlight highlights John's collarbone as Bobby leans down to kiss him.
In the morning they pack up and move on. There's never need for discussion; all of their talking is done in the night.
***
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters sits on Greymalkin Lane like an open wound. Marie doesn't know what she expected, but not this: torn open, bricks and glass and broken furniture littering the courtyard. Less then half of the building is still standing, but that's still a substantial amount of property, and John and Bobby decide to see what they can find.
Marie wanders the grounds, mentally trying to reconstruct the shattered building in her mind's eye. A part of her had hoped that the school would still be home.
She winds up in the kitchen and pulls out one of the chairs, the one Kitty and Piotr had carved their initials into. She's about to go and look for the boys when she sees something white and clean tacked onto the kitchen corkboard.
Something with her name on it.
She recognizes Logan's handwriting on the envelope immediately and tears it open: the letter is short, hurried, and the knot in her stomach grows a little more with each word.
Marie -
I know you'll get this because I know that if anyone made it out of this, it's you. I know I'm not fit to be around people right now; after what happened I don't know if I ever will be again. Don't come looking for me. You won't like what you find.
You don't need me anymore. You haven't for a long time. Keep surviving.
Logan
John and Bobby come back as she's reading the letter for the fifth time. She hands it to them, and they take turns reading it. Finally, John tosses the letter on the table. "Man, what a dick." Bobby puts one arm around her shoulders, and John holds her hand for the first time.
They give her a minute alone. When she's sure neither of them are looking she begins to pocket the letter, but then stops. Instead she smoothes it out on the table and reads it again, memorizing every word, every curve and line. Then turns the letter over and, taking the marker hanging from the board, writes I will across the blank reverse side. Then she pins the letter back up in the same place where she found the envelope and walks away.
When they leave, none of them look back.
***
The three of them are sprawled out in the centerfield of the baseball diamond behind the school, watching the clouds. Marie feels like they should have found some answers here, but it's just been another dead end. Now what? is the question on everyone's mind.
"I've got family in Australia," John says suddenly. "Aunt and uncles and stuff. At least, I did. I was seven the last time I saw them; couldn't pick them out of a line-up now."
"Why would you have family in Australia?" Bobby says, plucking the grass from the ground.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I was born there?"
"You're Australian?" Bobby says, and Marie doesn't think Bobby could sound anymore surprised if John has announced he was actually a woman.
"Well, yeah, I guess. Like I said, moved here when I was seven."
"Huh."
A few minutes crawl by. "So, what?" Marie finally says. "You think we should run off to Australia to see if they're still there?"
John shrugs. "Why not? You two got other plans?"
"How would we get there?" Bobby asks. "And how do we know there's even anyone there?"
"There's still people in Germany, we know that," John says. "And the first question, you two have had Blackbird training, right?"
"Well, yeah."
"I've got flight training, too. There's gotta be still planes that work somewhere. Unless you guys have a better idea.."
The look on Bobby's face is thoughtful. "It's a long way. It could take a while."
Marie squeeze. his hand. "We've got the time."
He smiles at her, then looks back at the sky. They've been wandering aimlessly for so long that actually having a goal is exciting in and of itself. "All right by me," he says, and John grins. A flock of geese fly overhead in a V, proof that the world is still turning. "Let's head out first thing in the morning."