X-Men: Dreams (Rogue/Iceman, Rogue/Wolverine) PG
Title: Dreams
Author: shealynn88
Characters: Rogue/Bobby, Rogue/Wolverine
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~350
A/N: Written for the You Must've Been Kissin' a Fool challenge, for the prompt: Rogue/Wolverine; Snow. Movieverse.
In her dreams, there's no need for gloves. She lets snow fall through her fingers like sand and she brushes casually against the people around her, bare arms against bare arms.
When they're finally alone, Bobby kisses her. She opens her mouth against his and his breath is like a snow squall. When she shivers, she doesn't know if it's the chill or the light touch of his tongue, tentative against hers.
When she wakes, she's reminded all over again that she can't do any of those things. Not ever.
She opens her eyes to stare at the ceiling and catches a vague flash of color out of the corner of her eye.
Logan is leaning against her doorframe, watching her with an expression that's oddly wistful. He smiles when he sees that she's awake, but it doesn't erase the loneliness that haunts his eyes.
He can't know exactly what it's like to be her, but he has secrets that make him alone. It's not the same, but it's as close as anyone's ever come to really understanding her.
He seems to sense her mood-maybe it's that same loneliness, tying them together. He steps forward.
"Everything okay?" he asks. His voice is gruff, like always. She hardly even notices it anymore.
She nods.
When he sits down and touches her hair, she stiffens in fear. But he's careful not to touch her skin, and when nothing happens she forces herself to relax.
Her eyelids droop and she imagines that she's normal, that she's used to having someone wind fingers through her hair as comfort.
"Get some sleep," he tells her finally. "Early day tomorrow."
She looks up and he's close. She can see the delicate length of his eyelashes, so incredibly at odds with the roughness of stubble along his jaw. She thinks that, if she were normal, she might kiss him right now.
But she's not, so she just nods, careful not to move against his fingers where they linger near her neck.
When he leaves, she lies back slowly and closes her eyes.
She dreams of hot breath and rough stubble and a fireplace that radiates warmth.
She dreams that neither of them are alone.
Author: shealynn88
Characters: Rogue/Bobby, Rogue/Wolverine
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~350
A/N: Written for the You Must've Been Kissin' a Fool challenge, for the prompt: Rogue/Wolverine; Snow. Movieverse.
In her dreams, there's no need for gloves. She lets snow fall through her fingers like sand and she brushes casually against the people around her, bare arms against bare arms.
When they're finally alone, Bobby kisses her. She opens her mouth against his and his breath is like a snow squall. When she shivers, she doesn't know if it's the chill or the light touch of his tongue, tentative against hers.
When she wakes, she's reminded all over again that she can't do any of those things. Not ever.
She opens her eyes to stare at the ceiling and catches a vague flash of color out of the corner of her eye.
Logan is leaning against her doorframe, watching her with an expression that's oddly wistful. He smiles when he sees that she's awake, but it doesn't erase the loneliness that haunts his eyes.
He can't know exactly what it's like to be her, but he has secrets that make him alone. It's not the same, but it's as close as anyone's ever come to really understanding her.
He seems to sense her mood-maybe it's that same loneliness, tying them together. He steps forward.
"Everything okay?" he asks. His voice is gruff, like always. She hardly even notices it anymore.
She nods.
When he sits down and touches her hair, she stiffens in fear. But he's careful not to touch her skin, and when nothing happens she forces herself to relax.
Her eyelids droop and she imagines that she's normal, that she's used to having someone wind fingers through her hair as comfort.
"Get some sleep," he tells her finally. "Early day tomorrow."
She looks up and he's close. She can see the delicate length of his eyelashes, so incredibly at odds with the roughness of stubble along his jaw. She thinks that, if she were normal, she might kiss him right now.
But she's not, so she just nods, careful not to move against his fingers where they linger near her neck.
When he leaves, she lies back slowly and closes her eyes.
She dreams of hot breath and rough stubble and a fireplace that radiates warmth.
She dreams that neither of them are alone.