'Escape' (1/1) Rogue/Logan fic.
Title: Escape (1/1)
Author: ataventure
Continuity: Comicverse (Uncanny/Rogue series)
Word Count: 352
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Summary: Rogue heads to a funeral.
Notes: Okay, I admit it. When I imagine my Rogue and Wolvie 'ships in my head, I sorta see the comic Rogue and the movie Logan. Phbt! Also, this story sorta began as one thing and evolved into something totally new. Hm...
***
The curtains fluttered between her fingers as she drew them back from the lucid windowpane, dropping her sight down to the awaiting cab. A gentle knock fell against her door, and she turned to see it pop open. Logan stood there waiting for her, his leather jacket pulled roughly around his shoulders. He held out a hand to her.
“I’m scared,” Rogue mumbled, turning back to the window. She watched the Professor approach the driver, speaking kindly to him while he waited.
“You can still change your mind, kid. You don’t owe them anything.” Logan muttered, grabbing her suitcase from the bed.
“No. I…I can do this. She was my only real family.”
Rogue brushed tears from her face, letting them soak into her black gloves. Smoothing her hands over her skirt, she lifted her coat from a hook on the closet door and slid her arms into the suede sleeves. Logan sighed and followed her out of the bedroom door and down the hall. His sensitive nose extracted scents of sadness and fear, cloaked by musky perfume. The mansion’s heavy oak doors loomed before them, as though a means to cut Rogue off from her home.
A hand encircled her wrist, turning her abruptly on her heel. She stared up into Logan’s eyes, briefly allowing him to glimpse at her bloodshot emeralds. Quickly, she lowered her chin.
“I’m coming with you, kid.” He growled softly, insistently.
“No, I gotta do this on my own. I’ll be back in a few…”
“You won’t be back.”
“I…” Rogue argued. Her gloved fingers grazed Logan’s forearm.
“You won’t be back,” he repeated, lifting her chin to bring her eyes back to his. “This funeral is just an excuse…a way to escape this place.”
He slid a hand against her cheek, cupping the slender jaw. The rough pad of his thumb stroked her cheekbone. Light skin flushed brilliant pink as Logan’s lips dropped towards hers, barely connecting with her mouth. Snapping her eyes wide open, Rogue tore away from his grasp and fled through the doors, out into the murky afternoon.
***
End.
Author: ataventure
Continuity: Comicverse (Uncanny/Rogue series)
Word Count: 352
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Summary: Rogue heads to a funeral.
Notes: Okay, I admit it. When I imagine my Rogue and Wolvie 'ships in my head, I sorta see the comic Rogue and the movie Logan. Phbt! Also, this story sorta began as one thing and evolved into something totally new. Hm...
***
The curtains fluttered between her fingers as she drew them back from the lucid windowpane, dropping her sight down to the awaiting cab. A gentle knock fell against her door, and she turned to see it pop open. Logan stood there waiting for her, his leather jacket pulled roughly around his shoulders. He held out a hand to her.
“I’m scared,” Rogue mumbled, turning back to the window. She watched the Professor approach the driver, speaking kindly to him while he waited.
“You can still change your mind, kid. You don’t owe them anything.” Logan muttered, grabbing her suitcase from the bed.
“No. I…I can do this. She was my only real family.”
Rogue brushed tears from her face, letting them soak into her black gloves. Smoothing her hands over her skirt, she lifted her coat from a hook on the closet door and slid her arms into the suede sleeves. Logan sighed and followed her out of the bedroom door and down the hall. His sensitive nose extracted scents of sadness and fear, cloaked by musky perfume. The mansion’s heavy oak doors loomed before them, as though a means to cut Rogue off from her home.
A hand encircled her wrist, turning her abruptly on her heel. She stared up into Logan’s eyes, briefly allowing him to glimpse at her bloodshot emeralds. Quickly, she lowered her chin.
“I’m coming with you, kid.” He growled softly, insistently.
“No, I gotta do this on my own. I’ll be back in a few…”
“You won’t be back.”
“I…” Rogue argued. Her gloved fingers grazed Logan’s forearm.
“You won’t be back,” he repeated, lifting her chin to bring her eyes back to his. “This funeral is just an excuse…a way to escape this place.”
He slid a hand against her cheek, cupping the slender jaw. The rough pad of his thumb stroked her cheekbone. Light skin flushed brilliant pink as Logan’s lips dropped towards hers, barely connecting with her mouth. Snapping her eyes wide open, Rogue tore away from his grasp and fled through the doors, out into the murky afternoon.
***
End.