Title: The Best-Laid Plans
Author: Victoria P. [vicpusateri@...
Disclaimer: I don't own anything -- it all belongs to
Marvel and/or Fox.
Rating: R - language
Summary: Scott and Rogue try to make Logan and Jean
jealous; L/R, with hints of S/R
Feedback: Me = feedback whore. Even if you hate it, let
me know. Please...
Notes: I know very little about Scott's backstory, so
I've sort of pieced together something reasonable. Thanks
to Pete, Meg, Jen and Dot, who put up with my Scott
ramblings and made this a better story.
The Best-Laid Plans
1. If Things Were Different
The first bar brawl I was ever personally involved in
happened while I was with Scott. I know, I don't believe
it either, but there it is. I suppose I should start
before that, start at the moment that Scott became Scott
instead of Mr. Summers. Or even before that, when he
became Mr. Summers, instead of One-Eye or Scooter.
So you know how Logan left and he gave me his dog tags,
yada yada? Well, he was gone and I was upset -- it's not
easy having fifteen years of someone's memories and
thoughts dumped on you, and it's doubly difficult when
you've already got sixty some-odd years of yet someone
else rattling around in your head. And Logan and Erik
aren't exactly choirboys, so I learned a lot of shit
sixteen-year-old girls shouldn't. Hell, I know a lot of
shit sixty-year-old grandmas probably shouldn't.
Anyway, Logan up and left, and I was stuck with him in my
head. I was young and impressionable and he was hot and
he'd just saved my life -- twice. *Of course,* I had a
thing for him. And he had to know it. But he ran, because
that's what Logan does. Even though I asked him to stay.
Those first few weeks were the worst, because I was
always lusting after Jean, or, even more disturbingly,
Professor Xavier. I was also a sore trial to poor Scott,
growling at him, calling him "One-Eye" and generally
being all Logan-y. But he's patient, and he's a good guy,
so he didn't get too upset.
And then one day, in class, we started reading _Madame
Bovary_. Well, let me tell you, I just wanted to smack
that Emma Bovary for her stupidity. But Scott went on and
on about how amazing a book it is, and how Flaubert had
chosen every word carefully and each sentence was crafted
to be just so. If there's one thing I can appreciate --
and this is all Marie, because Erik's more interested in
political screeds, and Logan, well, let's just say
Logan's not reading Playboy for the articles -- it's a
well-crafted sentence. Don't laugh. I want to be a
writer, and maybe after I retire from the X-Men, I'll
actually have time to get some of my stuff published.
So I paid more attention, and I realized he was right. I
still didn't like Emma, but it really is an amazingly
well-written book. When it came time to write our essays,
I wrote about creative ways for her to kill Rodolphe
instead of herself. Didn't get an A on that one. In fact,
I got asked to stay after class.
"Rogue, I'd like to discuss your paper," Scott said and I
knew I was in for it.
"Okay," I said warily, wondering what was coming next.
English was the one class I really loved, even if it was
taught by my -- I mean, Logan's -- nemesis.
"Do you really think eviscerating Rodolphe would have
helped Emma's situation?" He was trying hard to be stern,
but I could hear the laughter in his voice. I was
actually kind of impressed, since I'd always thought he
"More than eating arsenic did," I replied. "That was just
He sighed. "I'm not going to count this paper in your
grade, Rogue. You completed the assignment, and it's well
and creatively written, but I'm afraid it just doesn't
examine the issues most central to the novel. So I'm
going to offer you a deal. In addition to the next book
we're reading, I want you to read _Wuthering Heights_ and
write a paper on it. On whatever topic you choose, except
eviscerating or otherwise maiming or killing the main
characters." And I'd swear he mumbled, "Even if Cathy
One thing you have to realize about Scott is that he's a
dyed-in-the-wool romantic. Oh, he covers it up with his
Fearless Leader schtick, but when push comes to shove,
he's right there with me on the great couples of all time
and the One True Love of Buttercup and Westley. So though
I didn't know it then, he was pulling me in with Bront�'s
masterpiece about the moors and the wild lovers who
inhabited them. Of course, I was going to fall madly in
love with Heathcliff, and of course, I was going to
identify with Cathy -- even if she was a bitch. How could
I not? Heathcliff's story struck me right where I lived.
If Logan ever wanted to be in movies, he'd just have to
get the Professor to finance a new version of _Wuthering
Heights_. It's not like he'd even have to act to play
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Logan doesn't really
show up again for a while. This part is about me and
Scott and how we became friends.
I agreed to read the book and write the paper. And, like
he knew I would, I fell in love with Heathcliff. Since we
weren't reading it in class, I couldn't really discuss it
with Kitty and Jubilee. I ended up staying after class
again, talking to Scott, or, Mr. Summers as I had finally
started calling him. After _Wuthering Heights_ it was
_Pride and Prejudice_ and then _The Great Gatsby_ and
pretty soon, Scott and I had our own version of Oprah's
book club going on.
Logan came back around Christmas time, and he seemed a
little freaked at how friendly Scott and I were, but
since it was still pretty much a teacher-student
relationship, no one else ever commented on it. Looking
back, I realize it probably would have looked a little
hinky to people who didn't know Scott was head-over-heels
for Jean and I was still nursing an infatuation for
Logan. After all, Scott's only about eight years older
than I am, and Jean's about five years older than he is.
Logan, of course, is older than God, and I'm getting
ahead of myself again.
Anyway, Logan was all, "How's it going, kid?" and I was
just trying not to show how much I wanted him. How much I
wanted him to look at me the way he looked at Jean. How
much I wanted him to love me. And hanging around with
Scott and discussing the great novels of the Western
canon was not exactly the way to Logan's heart.
It *was* a way to get his attention, though. It wasn't
jealousy. Or, it wasn't the type of jealousy I was hoping
for, but Logan *was* upset that I didn't spend every
waking moment trailing around after him like a puppy. He
would never admit it, but he dug my crush on him. It fed
his manly pride. So to see me huddled in a corner of the
dining room with Scott, discussing Henry James, just
burned him up. And I loved every minute of it.
I think Scott knew how I felt, but he was cool, because
anything that annoyed Logan was okay with him -- just
desserts for the way Logan leered at and flirted with
It wouldn't surprise me if, early on, Logan thought about
pushing me and Scott together, so he could have a shot at
Jean. But two things stopped him: one, he knew how much
Jean and Scott loved each other (it would be impossible
not to know); and two, he cared for me. He loved me, even
if it wasn't the type of romantic love I craved.
You don't do for someone what Logan did for me -- all of
it, from skewering himself to letting me suck out his
healing power -- without caring for them on more than an
impersonal level. At least, Logan didn't. I knew, because
he was in my head. And it would have killed him to use me
like that. Logan could pretty much beat the crap out of
someone and then go for a beer without a second thought,
but he was always gentle with me.
Time passed and after a few months, Logan left again, but
he always kept in touch when he went away, and he always
came back. Eventually, I got over my crush.
Okay, to be honest, I never got over my crush, I just
learned to hide it better, even from him. And my feelings
continued to deepen into something I figured was love.
Sometimes I would talk to Scott about it, always
metaphorically, of course. I'd talk about the moment
Elizabeth realized she loved Mr. Darcy, or how Pip
worshiped Estella, but really, I was just trying to
figure out how I felt about Logan. I'm sure Scott knew
that, and he tried to help me get over it. I know Scott
only wants what's best for me, and he truly thought that
Logan was *not* it.
When I was nineteen, the birthday card I sent my mother
came back unopened. Every year, in time for December 1, I
made sure I sent my mother a card for her birthday, even
though she'd stood by and let my father run me out of the
house, and then never showed up for the court date when
Professor Xavier petitioned to have me made his ward. I
figured, she was my mom, and she should know I still
loved her and was safe.
But that year, the card came back with "deceased" written
in my father's handwriting, and underneath that, "You may
as well be dead too, Marie."
The bastard hadn't even had the decency to let me know
she'd died. I called my grandmother in Meridian, who
wasn't too thrilled to hear from the mutant outcast, but
she told me Momma had died that June.
It's not exactly easy news to take, and I was sitting out
in the greenhouse, crying, when Scott found me. Since I
had handled mail call that day, no one else had seen the
card, and he had gotten worried when I didn't show up for
my session with him in the Danger Room.
I wordlessly handed the envelope over and he put an arm
around me and said, "Oh, Rogue, I'm so sorry." He's one
of the few people here, aside from Logan, who isn't
afraid to touch me, even though I wear more clothes than
a Sherpa climbing Everest. Part of me wished it were
Logan, but Logan wasn't back yet from wherever the hell
he was, so Scott would have to do.
He let me cry for a while and then he said, "My mom and
dad died when I was eight. We were in a plane crash. Not
a day goes by that I don't still miss them." He squeezed
me a little closer and twined the fingers of his other
hand around mine, his cheek resting on the top of my
head, where my hair would protect him.
He's a good hugger, and when he pulled back slightly to
look at me, I found myself wondering, not for the first
time, what he'd look like without the glasses or the
visor he always wore.
I still don't know what possessed me. It was totally
inappropriate, but when we discussed it later, we decided
that grief makes you do strange things.
"Take your glasses off," I said.
"I want to see what you look like without them."
"It's not safe, Rogue." He sounded rattled, which was
totally new. I'd never heard him sound anything but calm
and assured, even under fire.
"I trust you." He inhaled sharply at that. I raised my
hands to his temples.
He took my hands, guided them to his glasses and removed
the ruby lenses. His eyes were closed tightly and his
lashes curled against the tops of his cheekbones; they
were long and feminine and I was envious for a moment.
"You're beautiful," I murmured, tracing his face with my
gloved hands. As my fingers moved over his eyelids, I
whispered, "Relax." His breathing was a little irregular
and I wasn't sure if it was fear or desire. I'd always
thought he was nice-looking, but so much of what I find
attractive about a man is in his eyes, and that was the
one thing no one ever got to see with Scott.
Feeling bolder, and more than a little attracted myself,
I brushed a thumb across his lips. His tongue came out of
his mouth and flicked against my finger. Even through the
cotton gloves, I felt its warmth and wetness. I gasped.
Eyes still closed, his hand came up and, fractions of an
inch from my face, mimicked the motion. "Scott," I
whispered, calling him by his first name without mockery
for the first time in our three years of acquaintance. My
breath warmed his bare skin and he murmured, "Rogue," in
that same hushed tone.
We stayed that way for what seemed an eternity, but was
probably only a few seconds, at most.
"If things were different..." I asked, unable to finish
the sentence, uncertain even where the thought had come
from. Not Logan, I know that for sure.
"If things were different," he said firmly, "I have no
doubt you and I would be very happy together, Rogue. The
man who finally wins your heart away from Logan is going
to be very lucky."
I pulled away, the spell broken by his mention of Logan.
He never approved of my attachment, but I like to think
he's finally come to understand it.
You would think that such an intense moment would have
made us uncomfortable around each other for a while, but
it didn't. It just sealed what's become a rock-solid
friendship that's survived some rough times. Because I
trusted him and, more importantly to me, he trusted me.
When you can kill with a single touch, having someone who
trusts you not to hurt them means a lot. Though the guys
at school flirt and tease and ask me out, I see how they
flinch away from my touch. Except Bobby, and Bobby and I
decided that us getting together would practically be
incestuous. So the only men who aren't afraid to touch me
are Logan and Scott. And Professor Xavier, of course, but
I try not to think about him. That wakes up Erik, which
makes none of us happy.
I mooned over Scott for about a week, until Logan came
home again. Even then, I managed to make sure Logan knew
something had changed, that I would no longer snicker
along as he baited and taunted Scott. He didn't like
that, but he learned to deal with it.
When I showed him the card and told him about my mother,
I saw the pain flash in his eyes. He muttered curses
about goddamn bigoted motherfuckers who better not ever
cross his path. Which made me feel a little better.
I know I said Scott and I weren't awkward after that
little greenhouse moment, but I *was* uncomfortable
around Jean for a few days, and both she and Logan picked
up on that. No doubt they each attributed it to my
feelings for him, never knowing I felt guilty for
fantasizing about Scott.
And from then on, that's what I called him.
More to come...