notmarieanymore

[He sees that hurt, and all he can think is do it. Do it. Push him away. He's been used for his purpose, now dump him. It'd give him just as much satisfaction, proving that both of them were worthless and the higher standard to which they held themselves was an ugly lie that apparently only he could see through.

But she stays. She takes another hard swig from the bottle and owns everything she's just done, down to and including how thoroughly she used John in this situation, and he finds himself admiring her. There's the badass.

He's the one who kisses her, while the taste of alcohol is still warm and sharp on her mouth, then laughs as he finally slips out of her and starts to dress. Bare ass to the breeze is getting a bit cold here.]

You're welcome.

This wasn't ever how I imagined it, y'know.

[She sets the bottle down after his lips leave hers, and she follows suit, sliding her panties back on first, then her bra. John can have his sandy shirt back that smells like sweat and sex.]

I had always thought I'd first have sex at senior prom. [With Cody, in some motel room, or maybe in the back seat of his pick-up, drunk on wine coolers. Fire and brimstone preachers had always told her she'd go to hell for premarital sex. Owen D'Ancanto always told her she'd go to hell period.]

How romantic. [His voice is full of scorn, but it's more for the life she's painting out than for her.] I wasn't old enough to imagine it yet when I hit the streets. It happened in a shelter 'cause we were staying warm in the same cot and oops, hormones happened. Shelters meant a roof over your head but no starting fires, you know what kinda trade off that is in winter?

[He's never spoken so much about his past to her, not ever. He doesn't even think Bobby knows this story.]

But it happened. We sure as hell stayed warm that way. I don't even know if I got her name, never mind remember it.

Shut up. [Just for the scorn. Her life was supposed to be 100% different than it was. She'd been a girl scout, gone to cotillion, coming out balls, all of that stupid stupid southern stuff that made Priscilla's heart race at the thought of her daughter being a member of Society.

Rogue hadn't been one for it, so while she attended as much as she was forced to, she'd dropped out of girl scouts, but the rest was all something she'd done. the ball never happened, before she left. Her mother wanted one life for her, and the level of control that that took away from her was awful. So she'd rebelled, and she'd payed the price.

Maybe if her parents hadn't made her quit soccer it would have been different, but no, Anna Marie was not going to be playing soccer, thank you very much.]

Shit.

[She shook her head, imagining it. Oh, she could see it. Hitchhiking all the way up through Canada had meant she had spent a lot of freezing nights by herself, sleeping in public restrooms to keep herself safe, huddled up on benches, stealing loafs of Wonderbread to survive.

She and John had a whole lot more in common than she was comfortable with. Maybe that's why they'd hated each other so much. They saw themselves in each other and couldn't face it.]

At least you were warm. [And now she was, too, sweater on and her jeans pulled up.]

Don't start with pity. That's not why I'm telling you. Just thought you should know some of us never got the normal life.

[And he's not going any further into that. Home life, with his "parents" - that's not for sharing with anyone. What they need to deal with is now, anyway, not then; this doesn't have to mean anything, except that it does, because it was a direct attack on someone they both care about and has completely shifted their dynamic. Not to mention changed her life.]

So? What now? [He's not looking at her. The vulnerability of his position is sinking in, and he doesn't like it, so he's not going to appear to care about what answer he gets. It's so vague that he'll probably need to narrow down what he's asking, which was kind of shooting himself in the foot, but he's going on the slim hope that she won't make him ask where they stand.]

[She knew that. She knew more about John than she ever wanted, with him in her head. The voices weren't there anymore, something she was extremely grateful for (those damned voices. A one-way ticket to losing her mind to them, she was sure) but she still had John's memories. That sort of thing didn't just fade away over night.

Maybe not ever.

She's clothed and looking at him.] Waddya mean? [So, yes, John, if you expected her to let you off easy, you were wrong.] Finish the bottle? [Which she's going to do with another drink right here, wash the taste of John off of her. Or maybe allow herself to relax a little bit more, and enjoy this extreme level of pettiness she'd brought herself to.]

[And how very differently he'd look at her if he knew how much of him she really does have locked in her head. For now, he just rolls his eyes - fuck it, if she's not needing clarification, then neither is he. They don't have any status quo to change anyway, so why not call it a start and avoid all the touchy-feely talk.

And finishing the bottle's a great start.]

Hand it - fuck, it's done? Give it to me anyway. [He snatches it out of her hand, then shoves his filthy shirt inside with a tail hanging out the end, like a molotov cocktail without the gasoline (because what need does he have for that?) Shirtless beneath his jacket, no shoes or socks on yet, he walks down to the water's edge and lights up the tail end before hurling the bottle toward the water; it catches light and explodes just like the real thing, right in midair, shards of firelit glass falling into the ocean.]

Well- [okay, now it's done, because she took another sip and that was that. Shaking her head, she hands it to him, ready for metaphorical and physical fireworks.

She leans back on her hands to watch him toss the bottle.]

Some poor kid is gonna get their foot cut on on glass, y'know.

[But there's approval in it. Not really on kids cutting their feet, clearly, but on... Something else. The recklessness of it all, perhaps.]

Sounds like you're really crying on the inside over it.

[He turns around to face her again, grinning. Not smirking, but grinning. Maybe she's just drunk enough to be fun, but he likes her right now. This is the Rogue he thought he could get along with, all this time.]

Oh shut up. [He's grinning, and so is she, and she's pushing his shoulder, a gesture she would have never made with her powers.

That was it. The alcohol, sure, but she didn't have her powers. She didn't have to close herself off to keep everyone safe. She could actually be a teenager, for once in her life.]

That's all you ever say to me. "Shut up, John." I'm right, though, aren't I? You're way more fun now.

[Too bad they put their clothes back on - and there's glass out there now - or he'd see if he could get her skinnydipping. Wouldn't that be something.

Something more serious flickers across his face, though, because he can't leave it at tonight. Not even with all the wrong reasons we did this.]

You were right, too. I wanted to. For a long time.

[Maybe he could get her skinnydipping at some point in the future. It's not ruled out yet.]

I've always been fun, [she told him, though she knows it's not true. She hadn't been fun at the school. Her powers removed a lot of fun from her life. Made it so she had to be careful at all times.

His words take her aback.] John what- [Oh. Oh, shit.]

You liked me? I was just giving you a hard time...

I know. It was always Bobby.

[It was always Bobby for him, too, in a lot of ways. But Rogue came into their lives and turned everything upside down.]

Not like I can blame you. No one can see past him.

[god damn it. What do you do with that information? They'd just slept together after she found out her boyfriend had cheated on her. She slept with her boyfriend's best friend out of revenge, and while it had been amazing- John used to like her.

That whole thing was now painted in a very different light.]

Hey. [She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.] Wasn't like I made the best decision in the world or anything.

[That was supposed to be comforting.]

Yeah, right. [He laughs coldly, shaking her hand off.] 'Cause I would've been a better one. You know I wouldn't have lasted a month, never mind as long as Bobby did. It was all impossible.

[He starts to pace up the beach, giving no indication if she should follow or not, but he's still talking.]

Even being at Xavier's was impossible. I knew I hated the guy and everything he stood for. Trying to be friends with Bobby, with you - none of that was who I was.

[Indication or not, she's following him.]

You seem... I know they probably aren't the best things to judge from, but you seem happier here.

[kinder. Ironically.

For a second, she wants to ask him something; if he believed that Magneto was right, in kidnapping her, using her like he did. But she didn't want to know the truth, as much as she did. She didn't want to ruin what could be, oddly, a solid friendship.]

Aren't we both? There's no sides here. No war. No one out to kill us. Charles and Erik, that's fucked up, but it's better than what they stuck us with back home.

[He's not happier, exactly, but there's not as much to be angry about. He couldn't deny that if she were to say it.]

It's all fucked up. Just not as bad. [Which probably isn't true for her, given what she just found out, but he thinks she might be calling it an even trade-off right now.]

What, you on first-name terms with both of 'em?

[She has no idea they're here. Any of the other X-Men that aren't them weren't known to her. Well. Other than Remy.]

It's still bad. I just- [she sighs.] I'm just really glad I won't kill someone by giving them a hug. I'm glad it's just me in my head again.

They're young, Rogue. Charles is in his 20s, Erik's probably in his 30s. And - [Oh, how he loves being able to scar someone else with this.] - they're together.

[But his satisfaction is short-lived. He's never fully understood her powers, so this is a bit of a confusing shock.]

What do you mean, in your head?

I- [She goes white, green eyes wide as she looks at John in horror.] Tell me you're- oh god. You aren't kidding. [this is the worst thing she'd ever heard. The worst.]

The voices. [She gives him a look- doesn't he know?]

You've got voices in your head.

[No, they're so far beyond Charles and Erik now. What is she talking about? He isn't even walking anymore, just staring at her stupidly.]

I did.

[they're gone. Thank god.]

They were- [she hated this part of explaining her powers.] -they were the personalities of people I touched. Bits of their lives and memories all floating around. [It's why she often had migraines.

...and now he was going to think she was crazy.]

[He doesn't go to sympathy first, of course, but he doesn't go to judgment either. Mostly he just looks wary, deeply wary. Lives and memories, personalities - how much does she know?]

You had me in your head?

I'm sorry.

[She doesn't apologize, she's always hated apologizing. But she's got no choice, as she looks at John, willing herself to turn away, but unable.]

I didn't want any of it. I hope you know that.

[Maybe now he'd see why she hated using her powers so much.]

[Well. There we go. She knows at least a bit about his past, his parents, his time on the street. If she knows about Bobby, she's keeping tight-lipped on it.]

You know how it feels, then. Knowing every heat source around you, every temperature down to the decimal point, and how much of a push it'd take to combust. You know how you want to, 'cause it'd be so easy, and your whole head's built around making that happen. You must've felt that if you used my mutation.

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