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FIC: "He Said" (1/1) [RATED PG-13] {Logan/Rogue}

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  • Diebin .
    TITLE: He Said (1/1) AUTHOR: Diebin RATING: PG-13 for laaaaanguage SERIES: The Thing About Misconceptions ARCHIVE: To the Usual Suspects, but please archive
    Message 1 of 1 , Nov 1, 2000
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      TITLE: He Said (1/1)
      AUTHOR: Diebin
      RATING: PG-13 for laaaaanguage
      SERIES: "The Thing About Misconceptions"
      ARCHIVE: To the Usual Suspects, but please archive with Donna's 'She Said'
      SUMMERY: He Said-She Said, Logan/Rogue style. You know the drill.
      PAIRING: Logan/Rogue
      DISCLAIMER: I own not. Please sue not.
      PEOPLE I LOVE: Everyone. I love you all. Extra big huggles to Donna, who
      picked up the series and ran with it. She's writing the next one. :) So keep
      your eyes open for 'She Said' *g*

      ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~



      I think the thing that annoys me the most about pursuing Marie is all the
      people trying to second guess everything I've ever done. It's like the
      minute I made it clear that I intended that girl to be mine, every word I'd
      ever uttered became the topic of intense speculation.

      You'd think in the business of saving the world, people would have more
      important things to do with their time.

      Like the ones who say my 'crush' on Jean was some big front to hide my
      attraction to Marie. It pisses me off. First of all, I'm not a fucking
      pedophile. Marie was a kid, Jean was a woman, and I was a man. Men like
      women, not helpless little sixteen year olds with eyes too big for them who
      hang on their every word.

      Real men do, at least. I'm not one of those fucked up assholes who lures
      little girls off to their beds. And the fact that everyone is assuming I am
      makes me really angry.

      Second of all, if I had been one of those sickos, who the fuck would I be
      hiding it from? When did I become the kind of coward who needs to hide
      behind excuses? If I want something, I get it, and if it didn't make me so
      damn angry I'd laugh at them. Do any of them really think it would have been
      so hard for me to get Marie? She was in love with me, and I've seduced women
      who had a lot less attachment to me than that.

      Fact is, Marie was a cute little kid and Jean was a damn sexy woman, and I
      wanted her because she was hot and she was the forbidden fruit that I wasn't
      supposed to have. It's not like I was ever planning on /taking/ her, but
      it's nice to look, and it's fun to flirt. And Jean was pretty when she
      blushed.

      So there's one thing that pisses me off. There's a lot more. Like the
      faction that claims I never knew Marie had a crush on me, and I've come back
      home and been shocked by how much she grew up and astounded by her love for
      me.

      Okay, I was a little surprised when I saw her the first time. Never knew
      just how fine she was going to clean up, and how well she was going to fill
      out. But despite the rumors about how all I care about is sex, there's a lot
      more to my feelings for Marie than just that. I mean, I'd have to be a damn
      fool to pick Marie for the object of my casual sex relationship. Or have
      they all forgotten why she wraps herself in all that damn fabric and wears
      gloves.

      They say I never knew she had a crush on me. Of course I fucking knew. It's
      hard to miss it when you can hear someone's heart rate, and have to listen
      to it jackhammer every time you enter a room. Not to mention the way she
      looked at me. Yeah, it was flattering, but when I left, I can honestly say
      it wasn't entertaining thoughts of having her warming my bed. Because I know
      damn well that if I had . . . I could have had her with me without a
      thought. She would have followed me to the ends of the earth.

      That's not arrogance--that's just the simple truth. I saved the kid's
      life--and to this day I'll never really understand exactly what possessed me
      to do that on the top of that statue . . . but I don't care. I saved her,
      and I knew that if I woke up from it, she'd be half in love with me.

      And she was, and when I told Jean my heart belonged to someone else, what I
      was really saying was, "I'll stick to lusting after you, thanks." Maybe I
      was just a little pissed that she seemed to think I was a pedophile too.

      I lusted after Jean after I left. I dreamt about her in all sorts of
      compromising positions, because that's what horny guys who aren't getting
      laid like to do. Never once did it even cross my mind that I'd ever do
      anything about it--Jean loves Scott, Scott loves Jean, and I'm afraid that
      I'm not going to ever play second best.

      Especially not to Scott.

      Besides, despite what everyone seems to think about me, I know how to
      respect other people's love. Love is a rare thing--and I'm not just saying
      that because I'm a cynical old bastard, I'm saying it because I know it.
      Love is rare, and I'll be damned if I go breaking something like they've got
      up just because Jean looks damn fine in tight leather. There are enough
      other women out there who look just as fine.

      And damn it, Marie is one of them.

      I knew the turning point. I'd been gone for a few years, and I'd called the
      mansion one day to talk to Charles and she answered the phone. It was
      awkward, because I hadn't really thought about her much and from how
      surprised she sounded, I hadn't exactly been the number one thought on her
      mind either. Her voice had deepened in that delightful way that always
      happens to women when they become women, so she had that husky low drawl
      that sounded like honey, and I tried to imagine what she'd look like now.

      That lasted about five minutes after she got off the phone, and I forgot
      about it and went to bed.

      I dreamt of Jean. And when she was panting beneath me, I called out her
      name, only it wasn't her name.

      I called out Marie.

      I spent three days trying to shake the dirty perverted feeling, which only
      got worse when suddenly it was her face in my dreams. And it wasn't her
      adult face, because I didn't know what her adult face even looked like. She
      was a seventeen year old girl with large brown eyes that were full of
      child-like adoration and wonder.

      I have never, ever, hated any dreams as much as those. Because I felt sick.
      More sick because in my dreams, I enjoyed it so much.

      And that's why I went home. I've heard a list a mile long of all the reasons
      I returned, lots of romantic reasons that make me want to roll my eyes.
      People are having the time of their lives, trying to decide why I turned
      around and rolled myself back through those gates.

      It was simple. If I was going to be dreaming about Marie, I damn well wanted
      to be dreaming about an adult one.

      I guess I didn't discourage the romantics any when I saw her the first time.

      I have a habit of staring. Maybe it comes from how important senses are to
      me. I can see and smell and hear things that other people would never
      notice--so I have a habit of dwelling on them.

      I stared at her. For a long time. At first I was just trying to ingrain the
      sight of her into my mind--but then it was because it was fun to stare, and
      it felt good to let my eyes slide over her body, because she looked damn
      good.

      And after I'd been staring for a good long while and managed to attract at
      least one or two curious people wondering /why/ I was staring at Marie and
      not talking to her . . . only then did she turn around.

      She smiled. And I could hear her heartbeat, and it was perfectly normal, and
      I could hear mine, and it wasn't--and that was when I decided that I was
      going to get her. Must have been my pride or something.

      She walked over, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at me.

      "Aren't you going to say something?" I finally asked.

      "Took ya long enough," she drawled, reaching up to pat me on the cheek.
      "Welcome home, sugah."

      And she winked at me and turned around and went inside.

      And the fact that she wasn't wearing my dogtags around her neck sealed her
      fate--because it proved to me that she /had/ grown up and she /had/ moved on
      and she wasn't just some adolescent with a crush on the man who had saved
      her life.

      It meant she was a woman, and I could go after her as one.

      I don't think anyone around here gets that little fact. If she'd thrown
      herself into my arms and sobbed and had my tags wrapped around that slender
      throat--I would have loved her just as much, but it would have been a whole
      different game.

      There are some women I could consider taking advantage of, but she's just
      not one of them. So she could have showed up naked in my bed, and though I'm
      sure I would have been tempted--deadly skin aside--I wouldn't have done
      anything.

      Now I was half tempted to show up naked in hers.

      So I settled back into life at the mansion, and the first day I walked into
      Charles office and shut the door and gave him my most serious I-Need-to-Talk
      look.

      "Yes, Logan?" he asked in that calm way he has.

      "Is Marie seeing anyone?" I'd already decided that there wasn't much use in
      trying to keep my intentions away from a mind reader. And I wasn't planning
      on wasting time dancing around.

      Charles quirked an eyebrow at me. "Am I to take this to mean you're
      interested?"

      "Even if I wasn't already kinda attached, Charles, I got eyes."

      The Professor just smiled. "You're not the only one with eyes, Logan. She
      has several people actively pursuing her . . . but Rogue likes her privacy.
      Keep that in mind, Logan, if the only reason you're staying is because of
      her."

      I shrugged and stuck one of my cigars in my mouth, even though he gave me
      that look that said 'smoke in the house over my dead body'. "I don't have
      anywhere else to be."

      "It's good to have you back, Logan," Charles replied, and I took that as
      permission to chase Marie to my hearts content.

      I wasn't exactly subtle about it. Subtlety isn't my thing. Ask Scott
      sometime, he knows all about that. Thing is, Scott and I got along just fine
      those first few days after I got back. And the reason we got along was
      because all of my smoldering looks were being directed at Marie. I still
      poked fun at him, but he smiled at me, which I'd never really seen him do
      before, and if I ever tried to rile him up by cracking some joke about
      chasing Jean down, he'd respond by saying something equally racy about
      Marie, and it was like we were two old buddies making fun of the old ball
      and chains.

      Never mind the fact that Marie was ignoring my advances.

      There's something else the entire school has something to say about. I wish
      they'd all keep their damn mouths shut--or at least try not to talk about it
      in front of me. Like I said before, some of their stupid assumptions really
      piss me off.

      A lot of them were in the 'Desertion Under Fire' camp. Marie was heartbroken
      over the fact that I'd left her alone, and would never mend from the
      emotional trauma. Looking at me made her want to cry. She was spending her
      nights in her room, sobbing into her pillow.

      Of course, I liked them a lot better than the 'Thief of Hearts' camp who
      supported that jackass Remy in his never-ending pursuit of my girl. I had
      him pegged right off after I met him, and I don't care if I'm not exactly
      well traveled--that accent is the fakest thing I've ever heard. And if he
      doesn't stop directing it at her and whispering those sweet nothings into
      her ears when she obviously is less than interested . . . I'm gonna wrap his
      vocal cords around his ankles.

      I never said I was civilized.

      My favorite, of course, are the 'Prey Turned Predator' group. They hold that
      Marie is desperately in love with me and playing some intricate game with my
      head that only she understands. I don't exactly buy their story--but I have
      to say it's better than the other two.

      Sometimes I really have to wonder if Magento and his crew even needs to
      fight us. Maybe Marie and I are his secret weapons and we don't even know
      it--because I swear to god the two of us have caused enough distraction to
      overthrow this entire school.

      The world could end, and they'd still be taking bets on whether or not I get
      Marie. I really would like to know what is so damn interesting about this
      whole thing.

      I heard someone nicknamed her Belle and started calling me the Beast. Maybe
      if this mutant thing falls through I can get a sponsorship through Disney or
      something.

      So the whole school is involved, and there is only one opinion on this
      non-existent relationship that I have yet to hear.

      Marie's. And what I wouldn't give to know what's going on inside that girl's
      head.

      ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~



      Bug Donna. She can post the sequel. :)

      ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x
      Darth Diebin
      http://www.diebin.com
      Don't climb on the Iguana.
      ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

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