FIC: One of Those Dreams (Rogue/Pyro) (PG-13) (X2)
- Title: One of Those Dreams
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am getting no money.
There is no reason to sue me.
Summary: A very short sequel to �Friendship�s
Sacrifice�. Rogue has a nighttime ritual, and it�s
all John�s fault.
A/N: There was a lot of request for a sequel to
�Friendship�s Sacrifice�. I really didn�t have much
of an idea until I found
(http://www.dymphna.net/challenge/). It generates
random person-emotion-object combinations.
Rogue-Dead-Cigarettes inspired me to write a little
Warm, soft lips were traveling up and down her throat,
pausing at the wonderful soft spot just under the jaw.
She could feel hands tracing lazy circles in her hair
as her own hand slid across soft skin overlaying
taught muscle on a man�s stomach. She moved her hand
reviling in the feel of skin on skin. She felt
herself writhing from the sensation he was evoking.
She moaned happily. Her hand slithered around his
side, across his ribs to the back of his shoulder and
she pulled him even closer. She moaned again. Then
his lips found hers and they were kissing
passionately. Rogue awoke with a gasp. It had been
one of those dreams.
Those were dreams she shouldn�t have been having, the
whole idea of them a fantasy that would never come to
pass. They couldn�t her skin was poison and she just
had to deal with that. If she was having them, they
should at least have been about Bobby. She and Bobby
had been dating for months now. They�d had a couple
of quick kisses, but nothing like her dream. You
would expect that Bobby would have been the boy in her
dream. Maybe she�d feel less conflicted if it was.
But the hair that had brushed against her cheek was
longer, darker. It was John Allerdyce in all of these
intense dreams; and this was certainly not the first
time she�d had one.
So Rogue did what she always did after one of those
dreams, she silently slipped from her bed, careful not
to wake the sleeping Kitty or Jubilee. She pulled on
her robe, slippers and quietly shut the door behind
her. She crept down to the kitchen, not drawing the
attention of any lingering night owls. She opened the
back door and sat on the little porch that was on the
other side. She sat down in the white plastic seat
pulled out a teal pack of cigarettes from her robe.
Marie sighed. She stared at the lighter as she lit
the cancer stick. She inhaled the smoke and didn�t
care it was killing her. She normally didn�t smoke,
she was a good girl. Good girls didn�t do things that
would make them dead. But those dreams were so full
of, of stuff. She didn�t want to be the good girl
after she�d had one. The dreams hadn�t started after
she�d read the letter; she�d had them before. But
with the secret knowledge of how John felt swimming
around in her mind with no outlet, the dreams were
more frequent and intense than ever before. Damn
whatever teacher who�d shown the young John Allerdyce
to hold a pen.
She took a deep puff and exhaled. No one had ever
written her a letter like that before. It was
beautiful, a side of John he never let anyone see. He
kept up that delinquent, shallow, carefree air so no
one suspected he had another part to him. But the
letter he had written was physical proof it existed.
He had cared about her so much; his words were
drenched with that idea. But he was also a devoted
friend, he couldn�t hurt Bobby. He was willing to
deny himself happiness for his friend. There were
those that sneered at the mention of his name, rolled
their eyes when they came across something that
indicated he had once lived among them. Those people
didn�t know about John, that he was more complex then
he let on.
Things were just so complicated now. She looked at
the warm orange glow at the end of her cigarette. It
reminded her of that day at the mall and made her
grin. �I can�t help it if your girlfriend�s getting
excited� �I don�t think she�s getting excited.� Oh,
but Marie had been. She loved that free-ness John
had. That attitude that no one was going to control
him, dictate his actions. He was always in control.
She envied that because she wasn�t. She pulled
another drag off of the cigarette and blew the white
smoke upwards. She�d never smoke during the day, when
people might see. She was a good girl after all.
They couldn�t know about this dirty little habit. She
suspected Logan might know, what with the heightened
senses and that distinctive tobacco smell that
lingered in hair and clothes. Sure she showered in
the morning and kept her cigarette containing robe
isolated, but Logan had a super nose. Of course, if
Logan knew he didn�t say anything.
She wasn�t in control of her personal life and wasn�t
in control of her powers. One touch and she could
drain away a person�s life. Her skin was a thief,
stealing away the life-force, the powers, and the
memories of anyone it touched. Everyone else had
learned control, could use their powers as they
wanted. Sure she�d used her powers to help, but they
were in control, not her. To be honest, if she were
in control of her life and her powers she�d make one
of those dreams come true.
Thinking of John made her wonder what life would be
like if she were in control. Guilt edged in to her
thoughts. Bobby was her boyfriend she should be
learning control for him, so they could be closer.
But she wasn�t even sure she wanted to be closer to
Bobby. He was a great friend; she would hate to lose
that. Bobby filled a space in her no one else could.
Marie just wasn�t sure this place he filled was the
boyfriend, love of your life kind of place. She
inhaled more smoke and let it linger in her mouth a
moment, tickling her, before she blew it out.
The cigarette in he fingers was burning down. She
could feel the warmth on her finger tips. She�d
finished another cigarette but wasn�t any closer to
resolving her conflict. She was confused about what
she felt for Bobby, still confused about the John
situation, and she was still going to have those
dreams. But, she could live with that. They were
great while they lasted, and maybe she could work out
this post dream stuff before winter. Because coming
out here to smoke during the cold of an upstate New
York winter would be lame. Also cigarettes were
expensive. But, on a warm April night when the pack
was still most of the way full, she really couldn�t
complain too much that she�d had another one of those
dreams and was outside thinking about John Allerdyce.
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