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Fic: Dall'Acqua (From The Water) 1/3 (Scott/Rogue, X2)

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  • princesstwilite1
    Title: Dall Acqua (From The Water) Author: Princess Twilite (princesstwilite2@aol.com) Rating: NC-17 -for sexual situations- Summary: In the space of two days,
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 17, 2003
      Title: Dall'Acqua (From The Water)
      Author: Princess Twilite (princesstwilite2@...)
      Rating: NC-17 -for sexual situations-
      Summary: In the space of two days, Rogue had fallen in love with her
      best friend.
      Pairing: Scott/Rogue
      Spoilers: X-Men 2 (movie-verse)
      Genre: Romance, Angst, Humor, Future Fic
      Disclaimer: Not mine
      Distribution: List archives, yes. Otherwise, you only have to ask.
      Cover Art: http://www.shippersunited.com/dallacqua2.gif
      Website: http://www.shippersunited.com/whip
      Beta Reader: A.J., who puts up with me and my slow work on TRAFH,
      and lets me hound her with far too much beta work.

      * * * *

      "This is my invitation, but how do I begin?" - My
      Invitation, Sarah Slean.

      * * * *

      Dall'Acqua (From The Water) 1/3
      by Princess Twilite

      Scott stood with his back to the water, watching Rogue climb
      down the steps toward the beach. The wind whipped her skirt against
      her legs, twisting the blue cloth around her ankles. She stumbled a
      little, but caught herself with the railing, cursing like a sailor.
      He covered his mouth, hiding a grin. She stopped at the bottom step,
      lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. He assumed she was
      searching for his familiar figure somewhere on the beach and started
      toward her across the sand.

      She smiled when she caught sight of him. "There you are."

      Scott nodded and gestured around them in explanation. "I
      thought I'd check out the scenery while you were taking a shower.
      Make sure the ocean was still there."

      Rogue shook her head at his bad joke, not laughing. His
      humor was horrible as it was; he didn't need encouragement.
      "So this
      is where you blackmailed me into coming?" She stepped past him,
      walking sandal-footed across the stretch of sand between her and the
      water. "It's really... big. And nice."

      "I like the smell of saltwater," Scott replied, coming up
      behind her and placing a warm hand on the bare skin of her shoulder.
      Rogue flinched slightly, still far from used to being touched. It
      had only been a few months since she'd gained controls over her
      powers, but only Scott, Logan, and once, Ororo, had dared to touch
      her skin.

      "That's what that smell is?" Rogue asked, wrinkling her
      nose
      and tossing him a look. Clearly, she wasn't as charmed as he was
      by
      the surrounding scenery. "Is there a way to make it go away?"

      Scott looked at her sharply. "You don't like it?"

      She blinked, smiling blandly. "I love it."

      "Right." He smiled unevenly. "Well, breathe through your
      mouth if it's going to be a bother." When she did as
      instructed, he
      touched her chin with his fingertips and guided her face toward the
      water. "Now, look at that view."

      A sweet burst of surprise moved through her as she finally
      let herself fully take in the vastness of the ocean. "God,
      that's
      gorgeous."

      "Isn't it?" He paused, looking at her profile, before
      forcing his eyes to return to the view. "I've always loved
      the
      water. It's like outer-space, but right here in front of us."
      "I never thought of it like that," Rogue replied, a line
      between her eyebrows. And then she shrugged carelessly, looping her
      arm through his and squeezing briefly. "It's lovely. Thanks
      for
      bringing me here."

      "Anytime," he said, smiling down at her.

      The pale line of her neck winked at him as she glanced up,
      smiling in return.


      * * * *

      Rogue stumbled her way into high heels while slipping an
      earring into her earlobe at the same time, scowling in frustration
      when she couldn't perform the miraculous feat. Scott leaned
      against
      the kitchen counter in his suit jacket, watching her in amusement.
      Her scowl turned on him full force, eyes glinting behind a slash of
      hair.

      "If you laugh, I'll make you cry."

      It was said with enough venom that Scott raised an amused
      eyebrow, mouth trembling with repressed humor. "And how will you
      do
      this, pray tell?"

      "Very, very slowly." She strode toward him so quickly that
      he had to quell the urge to back up, even though it was impossible.
      A soundless sigh moved through him when she turned her back to him
      and gestured vaguely. "Zip."

      Scott blinked, looking down at the slit in the fabric of the
      dress, at the flesh hinted at between the folds of cloth. He wet his
      lips and then carefully slid the zipper up until it caught at the
      top, and he realized it was fully closed. His fingertips brushed her
      skin very lightly, in the most ghostly of touches. "There,"
      he said
      quietly, and she stepped away from him. His hands hung suspended for
      a single second, reaching, before he could pull them down and tuck
      them into the pockets of his slacks.

      "Thanks," she replied, distracted, still trying to put the
      earring in.

      "Do you need help with that too?" He asked, dryly. "I
      can't
      say that I've ever done it before. Once, when I was a teenager,
      I
      contemplated piercing my ear, but I saw my friend get it done and he
      bled all over the place.

      She curled her nose and dropped her hand, done. "I've got
      it, but thanks." When she would have turned toward the mirror
      hanging on the wall, Scott cleared his throat quietly and she
      glanced at him over her shoulder.

      "You look... beautiful," he said, voice tight. A strange
      expression blunted his features, making him appear tense.

      Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Thank you."

      He nodded, straightening away from the counter. "Are you
      ready to go?"

      Rogue met his eyes, and then looked around her. "Well, even
      though it's a bit irresponsible in a way that's not like you,
      I
      suppose the unpacking can wait until we come back from dinner."

      "That's the spirit of vacation," Scott reminded her. He
      walked over to the door and pulled it open, gesturing grandly for
      her to exit. She gave a mocking curtsy and did so, sashaying through
      the doorway. He shot one last sweeping look around the beach house,
      gleaming with the afternoon sunlight, and left with her.

      The next week was going to be interesting, one way or another.

      * * * *

      Scott remained quiet on the ride to the restaurant, and
      Rogue found herself engrossed in watching the scenery. Even with the
      windows rolled all the way up, she swore she could smell the ocean
      as they drove past the rolling, sandy hills that Cape Cod called its
      own. Light Towers shone in the distance, only just turned on, a dull
      flashing yellow in the still light evening. In the distance, a
      seagull flew serenely through the cloudless sky, floating down to
      the earth with ease.

      "It's so beautiful," she sighed.

      "Mmm," was his only reply. She looked at him in reaction,
      and startled a little upon seeing him looking at her and not the
      road. He immediately focused on the road again.

      "Scott," she began, quietly. "I only let you talk me
      into
      coming here, away from our work, under the impression that you would
      eventually tell me what's been on your mind lately."

      He only shrugged his shoulders.

      Frustrated, she blew out a breath. "Why did you really take
      me here? I know you're worried about me, but I can't figure
      out why."

      "You work too hard," he said flatly. "When you're
      not
      teaching, you're training. When you're not doing that,
      you're on a
      mission with us. It's been a long time since you've even sat
      down
      with me, had a drink, and played a game of cards."

      "I've never really liked cards," Rogue replied absently.

      "Me either, but we've still always played them." He
      tucked
      his lips together, in the way he did when he was fighting
      annoyance. "I didn't think I needed a motivation to want to
      take my
      best friend on a vacation."

      "I'm not saying you have to. I'm just saying that you
      don't
      have to worry about me." Rogue reached over and laid her hand
      over
      his forearm in a rare display of physical affection. "I've
      been a
      big girl for a long time, Scott. I can take care of myself."

      "I know it," Scott said. He remained a strange type of still

      beneath her touch. "I've known it for a long time, but that
      doesn't
      make me any less interested in your welfare. You're important to
      me,
      Marie. You always have been."

      Rogue blinked. He only used her real name when he was very
      serious and sometimes sad. Casually, she pulled her hand from his
      arm, smiling widely. "I bet you say that to all the mutant girls
      with brain-sucking powers."

      "Nah," he replied, softly. "Just one. Just you."

      Rogue looked at him sharply, but his sunglasses only
      reflected her own face and she couldn't read anything in the set
      of
      his jaw. Complicated, she thought grouchily and turned back to the
      scenery. Things were complicated between them lately, and she
      couldn't pin point why it had become so.

      However, she was entirely sure the blame lay solely on him.

      On the horizon, a small, crowded town appeared. She perked
      up, studying it with interest. Beside her, Scott smiled at her
      pleasure. She rarely got the glowing look of new discovery on her
      face these days. She'd become more jaded, hardened, and it
      bothered
      him to see the shadows beneath her eyes.

      "It's... cute," she said, a line between her eyebrows as
      if
      she was displeased with her own description of the town.

      "I know what you mean." Scott nodded, and then pointed
      toward
      a building at their left. "That's the restaurant. We're
      going to
      have to park about a block away though, because these streets are
      too crowded and we're never going to find a space."

      She nodded, still eyeing the buildings surrounding them.

      "I knew you'd like it here," he said, with satisfaction.

      Rogue shot him a look. "Wow there, Captain. Just because I
      like the look of it, that doesn't mean it's going to be the
      most
      pleasant experience of my life."

      Scott frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

      Rogue looked at him oddly, tucking a strand of hair behind
      her ear. "Stop being so defensive. I was only kidding."

      "Right." He shook his head. "Sorry. I'm just...
      tired and
      hungry. I'll stop being so grumpy, I promise."

      She shrugged. "I don't care. It's not like you
      haven't been
      grumpy with me a million times before. In fact, I might one day get
      veteran privileges for going to war with you on a daily basis."

      "Yes, but this is different." Before she could ask him how,
      he had slowed the car down and pulled into a parking space. "It
      will
      be about a half-mile walk. Your feet..."

      "Will be perfectly fine," she insisted, and opened the door.
      A gust of air blew her perfume toward him, a tantalizing scent that
      teased his nostrils. She glanced at him over her shoulder before
      slamming the door shut "My stomach, however, is just as grumpy as

      yours. Let's go eat. Like now."

      He got out of the car and locked it behind him, before
      walking to where she waited impatiently on the sidewalk, holding her
      hair with her palms so that the wind wouldn't mess it up. The
      darkening day cast her in deeper reds, and there was a single hitch
      in his belly that he dutifully ignored.

      "The wind's picked up," he said, unnecessarily. She
      nodded
      and rolled her eyes as if to say `duh.' Scott ignored her
      and held
      out his arm for her to take. Used to his odd acts of chivalry, Rogue
      slipped her arm through his, patting the muscle beneath her
      fingertips. The wind played with a few strands of his hair, pulling
      it messily across his forehead.

      She'd never understand why he remained single for such long
      stretches. Once, she'd assumed it was because of Jean, but her
      death
      had been nearly ten years ago. A month ago, when curiosity got the
      best of her, Rogue had asked him why he didn't date more.

      "Well," he had begun thoughtfully, leaning back against the
      couch. There had been a strange quality to his voice, like he
      wasn't
      sure of his words. "I guess I'm just waiting for something
      exceptional."

      "Penny for your thoughts," the Now-Scott said into her ear.
      Rogue blinked, pulled back to the present. She only looked at him
      and shook her head. Some things were better left unspoken.

      Surprisingly, he let her off the hook.

      It took only a few minutes to walk to the restaurant. They
      passed more than one person on the street that looked at Scott with
      visible wariness, but he seemed unfazed by it, as if he was used to
      being eyed with such trepidation. She couldn't imagine it. They
      had
      both worn visible reminders of their mutation, but hers was often
      considered just a gothic fashion statement by most of the people she
      had met during her life. Only other mutants guessed that she was one
      as well.

      He opened the door for her, touching the curve of her back
      gently as he ushered her inside. But it seemed, for just a second,
      that his hand lingered before it dropped away. They remained silent
      as they waited for the Hostess to seat them.

      "Welcome to the Charlotte Belle," a woman dressed in a sharp

      black suit said, walking toward them with her fingers threaded
      together. "We serve the best in Southern Cuisine this side of the

      country. Two for tonight?"

      Rogue shot him an amused glance. Southern?

      He smiled smugly, showing his incisors wolfishly. "Yes. Two."

      "If you have extra room for an ego, that'd be nice,"
      Rogue
      drawled. "You know how you get, sweetie," she teased,
      squeezing his
      arm. "If your ego doesn't have a place to sit down, your
      inferiority
      complex kicks in."

      Scott's lips thinned, and he laughed dryly. "Funny, darling.

      Very funny."

      "Married long?" The Hostess asked kindly as she led them
      toward a table in the back. The lighting was lower there, like it
      had to go through a filter just to touch the air.

      Scott disengaged himself from her and then looped a long arm
      around her shoulders, tugging her into the crook of his arm. Rogue
      looked up at him in shock as his face descended toward hers.
      Quickly, she looked forward, feeling awkward and embarrassed while
      he rubbed his nose lovingly across her cheekbone.

      "Newlyweds," he whispered, hot air teasing her skin.

      Rogue felt curiously short of breath.

      "Ah, that explains it," the Hostess said, and gestured
      toward their table. Rogue scurried from beneath his arm and into a
      chair before he could pull it out. Scott, amused, casually took a
      seat himself.

      "Public displays of affection," Scott explained ruefully,
      looking up at the Hostess. "She hates them."

      "Aw, a few years and she'll get over it." She wiggled
      her
      ring finger. On it was a sturdy gold wedding band. "Trust me.
      Now,
      here are your menus." She set them down on the table, politely
      ignoring Rogue's furious blush. "The waitress will be here
      in a
      minute to take your orders. I hope your dinner is as lovely as your
      marriage is bound to be."

      "Thanks," Rogue said, through clenched teeth. "I
      appreciate
      it."

      The Hostess nodded and walked away. Rogue immediately kicked
      Scott beneath the table. He winced, banging his knee off the table
      as he pulled it away from her.

      "Ow! Damn it, what was that about?"

      "Newlyweds!" She hissed, seething. "Drop dead."

      "You teased me first," he complained, bending until his chin

      was nearly touching the pristine tablecloth to rub his sore
      shin. "It was a joke."

      "I don't appreciate being manhandled," she said, lifting
      her
      chin. She eyed him haughtily down her nose, in the way only truly
      southern-blooded women could pull off. "Joke or no joke. I'm
      sure
      you remember what I did to you that time you tossed me into the
      pool."

      Scott swallowed, paling slightly . "In detail."

      She bared her teeth at him, leaning forward to rest her
      elbows on the table and look him hard in the face. It was he who had
      taught her intimidation. "Get my point?"

      He nodded, straightening in his chair. There was something
      in his eyes, something that made Rogue pause and lean back a little
      as he opened his mouth to speak. A young girl with a bouncy ponytail
      and a perky smile stopped at their table. Scott's gaze went to
      her,
      and he blew out a frustrated breath.

      "My name is Samantha," she said, smiling brightly. In her
      hands, she clutched a basket of rolls. "I'm here to take your
      order."

      Scott looked over at Rogue, who was biting her bottom lip,
      and then back up at Samantha. "I think we're going to need
      another
      minute."

      She nodded. "That's fine. I'll be back in about five to
      take
      your order." Before she left, she set a basket of fluffy rolls
      down
      onto the table. Rogue's hand snatched out immediately, grabbing a
      roll from the top. Samantha eyed her warily, shocked by the display.
      She began to slowly back away.

      "I think you frightened her," Scott pointed out, amused. He
      glanced at Samantha's quickly retreating form, and then back at
      his
      friend, who was getting into the roll the way some people got into
      sex.

      "I'm terrifying," Rogue agreed wryly, mumbling around
      her
      food. She was far too engrossed to see the way his smile weakened
      and his throat worked like he'd gotten something stuck there.

      Scott nearly said that yes, she really was, but he kept his
      mouth shut, swallowing the words back. Instead, he took a roll
      himself, buttering it carefully and avoiding her oblivious eyes.
      She'd never know, it seemed. She'd never understand exactly
      what
      kept him at her side, year after year. And he found he was too much
      of a coward to tell her.

      Rogue swallowed and licked her fingers to clear them of
      butter. Her eyes landed on Scott, narrowing. "Are you going to
      eat
      that?"

      * * * *

      "God, that was good," Rogue groaned happily as Scott
      unlocked the house doors. She rubbed her stomach on a happy hum,
      standing behind him. "I haven't eaten like that in a
      year."

      "I'm glad you enjoyed it," Scott said, gesturing for her
      to
      enter before him. As she passed, he caught another whiff of her
      perfume. Familiar. Rich. Sexy. Much like the woman herself.
      "It's
      been a while since I had a meal like that myself."

      "Better than sex," she said, in her offhand way.

      Scott nearly tripped on the rug, dropping the keys. Their
      sharp jingle sounded embarrassingly loud, and he laughed nervously
      as he bent to retrieve them.

      "Clutz," Rogue murmured, as she took her earrings out and
      set them on the counter. Scott remained in his crouched position,
      watching her intensely. The moonlight fell across her hair in thick
      waves, highlighting the light streaks around her face. The removal
      of her earrings had been such an intimate thing to witness that it
      made his stomach ache, and it throbbed in accompaniment to his heart.

      Pain. Lust. Heat.

      God.

      Scott turned his face down, clutching the keys in his hand,
      afraid that she would notice his expression and have a reason to be
      afraid of him. Hell, she *should* be. Swallowing hard, acutely aware
      of the blood rushing between his thighs, he stood awkwardly.

      "I think I'm just going to go to bed," he told her,
      biting
      the inside of his cheek to keep himself from groaning. He turned
      his shoulder to her and ate up the space between him and the
      curving staircase. "I'm beat. Today's been a long
      day."

      "But fun," he heard her call softly. "Sleep well."

      Scott paused at the drawling sadness in her voice, and even
      though he told himself not to, turned to look down at her. She stood
      next to the window, rubbing a hand over the back of her neck. Desire
      warmed his face, even as emotion cooled his heart. She looked so
      terribly alone.

      "You're not going to bed?" He asked, palming the smooth
      banister and leaning forward as if he could get a better look at her
      face.

      She didn't turn, but her hand stilled. "In a little while. I

      think I might call home and see if everyone is doing okay without
      us."

      Scott pursed his lips. "Is everything all right?"

      Finally, she tossed him a careful look, eyes glittering up
      at him through the moon-wet shadows. "Of course. But I think you
      have me pegged, Scott. The work is hard to let go. This will be good
      for me."

      "Don't stay up long," he told her.

      "Don't nag." Then her back was to him again, and Scott
      was
      left with the feeling that he'd had for months. She was the most
      beautiful creature in his life. And she was also the unhappiest.

      Three hours later, Scott tossed in uneasy consciousness. It
      was brutally apparent that he wouldn't sleep well tonight. There
      was
      no way to get comfortable in his present state. He was used to
      sleeping a room away from her, but he wasn't used to doing so
      when
      they were all alone. Occasionally, after her infamous break up with
      Bobby the day before their wedding, she had crawled into bed with
      him and slept on top of the covers with her head buried in her own
      arm, but that had been rare and things were different then. He
      hadn't been in love with her.

      Blood burning hot, he stared up at the naked ceiling,
      wondering at the shadows dancing along its surface. The ray from the
      Light House spun, flashing directly through his bare, open window
      every few seconds. It should have helped him to sleep with its
      lulling monotony, but it only made him more aware of how very close
      she was, and how if they made love tonight, they wouldn't have
      to
      worry about anyone else hearing.

      The back of his throat closed up in need.

      Damn it, Rogue.

      Giving in, Scott rubbed a hand along the muscles of his
      stomach, letting out a broken groan as his hand slipped lower,
      lower, lower.

      "Yes..."

      Later, much later, with guilt twitching inside his belly,
      Scott slipped inside her bedroom to check on her. It wasn't
      something he normally did. Only on nights like these, when he gave
      into his baser impulses. He always felt like he had somehow wronged
      her and violated their friendship by thinking of her while he
      brought himself to a lonely, cold orgasm. He had to make it okay
      again.

      Rogue lay sprawled on her front across the bed, taking up
      all the space in the way single people used to having the bed
      completely to themselves did. The blanket had been kicked to the
      floor, sheets to the bottom of the bed, and he had no idea where her
      pillows were.

      With a sigh, he let his gaze travel over the bare skin of
      her calves, where they were revealed by her riding nightgown. Her
      flesh, always looking so soft, fairly glowed in the spinning beam
      from the Light House. Gently, he gripped the sheets she'd
      discarded
      and lifted them over her body. She shivered a little as the cool air
      generated from the motion brushed over her sleeping form.

      "Scott," she murmured huskily, and he stilled, shaken.

      She was still asleep. She didn't know she had spoken his name.

      Scott took a deep breath and leaned forward, brushing a
      whisper-soft kiss across the bare flesh of her right shoulder,
      pulling back before he could give into the temptation of her slack
      mouth.

      "Sleep," he said, smiling weakly at her as he forced himself

      from her side and from her bed. Temptation was one thing. Masochism
      was entirely something else.

      * * * *

      End 1/3
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