Whispers

 
 

A Polite Disaster

Day Two, 19th Hour, 21st Minute

Rogue glanced at the clock on her way in after dinner, noticing it was after seven. She sighed and flopped out across her bed. She wanted to scream. The image had played over and over in her mind like an annoying song from the radio.

The image of Remy in only jeans.

She groaned. She was not interested in the Cajun. He was arrogant, self-centered, chauvinistic, entirely too irresponsible...

The image played before her mind again.

And entirely too hot.

Rogue sat up suddenly. "Scratch? Where are you, sugar?" She leaned over the edge of her bed and peeked beneath it. The kitten had curled up in one of her shoes and fallen sound asleep.

She scooped him up with one hand. Her gaze landed on the leg of Kitty's chair.

"Oh no," she groaned. "Scratch, you little rascal."

A nice set of kitten scratches marred the wood. She'd have to sneak in some of the wood putty before anyone noticed. Except Kitty that is. Kitty was in on the whole somebody-got-me-this-sweet-kitten-that-I'm-not-giving-up-just-because-pets-are-against-the-rules.

Rogue took to stroking the tiny purring ball of fluff. She was glad he seemed to sleep so much. But she had to make sure she brought up food and beverage for the guy on time. Earlier that day, he had twice opened his mouth to let out some sort of screechy cat yowl of injured hunger. She had been required to clamp down with her gloves over the mouth and set him in sight of his meal, then been further obliged to make sure no one that mattered had heard. So far, she'd lucked out.

Kitty phased into the room, singing at the top of her lungs with a chipper smile filling half her face and an armload of papers to grade.

Rogue stared at her roommate.

Kitty was singing the theme from the Aristocats.

Rogue lunged for Kitty.

"Whoa!"

Kitty didn't phase in time, and she let out an indignant squeak as Rogue's nonkitteny hand made contact with Kitty's mouth, and the papers erupted in a cloud of floating white and redness.

"You've already graded them?" Rogue asked, scrunching up her nose, from her perch on Kitty's stomach.

Kitty glared at her, shoved her hand down, and spat out some cat hairs. "Scratch had better be clean," she warned.

Rogue kept staring at the papers falling to the ground like so much snow. "What teacher brings graded papers home to work on?"

"The kind who...Oh!" Kitty must have decided Rogue was a lost cause and stood up through her, brushing herself off. "Why did you do that, Rogue? I was just hitting the break!"

Rogue narrowed her eyes. "We've got enough on our hands keeping this secret without you singing that. Besides, no one else will wonder why I shut you up. They might wonder why I didn't."

"Really..." Kitty narrowed her eyes in return. "Hmph." She gathered the papers. "Actually these are reports, and they still need comments."

"Oh." Rogue grinned wickedly. "Actually I hadn't washed Scratch yet."

"Ew!" Kitty dropped her papers in another snowstorm, to Rogue's giggling amusement, and vanished through the wall in the direction of the bathroom.

Scratch woke up and started his cry for milk.

She clapped a glove over his mouth and cursed.

Just then someone knocked on the door.

Kitty suddenly appeared from the closet, head first, and tumbled into the room.

Rogue gave a startled squeak.

"Hide him!" Kitty whispered. "It's a flowers guy and Logan's coming up the stairs!"

"Oh..." Rogue cursed again and looked around for something to tie his mouth. Getting a better idea, she grabbed Kitty, yanked her over, shoved Scratch into her hands, making sure his mouth didn't come uncovered, despite his scratching protests, and ordered the girl to phase him. "Take him anywhere. I don't care."

She dumped some clothes in front of Kitty's chair legs and a small bit of wall that had apparently served well and the foot of her own bed.

Kitty narrowed her eyes at her chair.

"Go, for Pete's sake!" Rogue shoved Kitty back into the closet.

Thankfully, she phased in time.

The 'someone' knocked again, and she smoothed her hair before walking over and opening the door. "Hello?"

Logan was indeed coming up behind the innocent stranger handing her a vase of a dozen long-stemmed red roses. Rogue gaped.

"For me? But who...?" She didn't continue, just grabbed the roses before Logan did. "Thank you."

"No problem." The delivery guy grinned. "Someone thinks you're real special."

She hoped whoever thought the delivery guy was real special wouldn't notice the red marks later where Logan had shoved him away with a tiny bit of claw unsheathed.

"You've delivered your package, bub. Now out!"

Thankfully for her, Logan decided to escort him out personally. She watched as they rounded the last bend.

Rogue whirled into her room, setting the roses down carefully, and hurried out, locking the door. She had to get deodorizer, cleaner, and the vacuum cleaner before Logan got back up. And she had to shower.

She knew without a doubt that roses would bring him in to her room. And she also knew he'd smell the cat.

Day Two, 19th Hour, 33rd Minute

Rogue turned off the vacuum cleaner and leaned it against the wall, then finished dressing in her new clothes. Logan had been waiting outside for a few minutes now, because she had the brilliant idea of being "not decent" when he demanded entrance. And then kept right on cleaning.

She heard him muttering under his breath when she let him in. "What?" Rogue asked innocently.

He gave her a look. He wasn't buying it.

She grinned and gestured at the roses. "Aren't they beautiful?"

Logan grunted. "All right. Who are they from?"

"I don't know." She picked up the card again. "It says, 'To a beautiful girl, the light of my life.' I don't think I'm the light of anyone's life." Except for maybe Scratch.

Logan eyed the flowers distrustfully. "Poetic."

She grinned wickedly. "Isn't it? I thought so."

He glanced at Rogue. "Don't go falling for some secret admirer, kid. Not until you know who he is. Even John could wax poetic."

"Pyro's gone," she replied flatly. "And I'll go falling for whoever I want to."

"I'm just saying..."

"What happened to the whole I'm-not-your-father speech? Hmm?" Rogue demanded, bracing her hands on her hips.

He sighed. "I'm just saying."

"Well, I like them. And the card. And what it says."

He stood up, hands raised. "Fine. I'll see you in the Danger Room tomorrow morning."

She blinked at that. "Umm, Logan..."

"What?"

"I was wondering if I could maybe skip that? I've got somewhere to be."

He repeated her words incredulously. "You're not skipping out on Emma are you?"

Rogue shot him a look. "There is no where to be at 4:30 in the morning."

Siryn suddenly poked her head through the door. "Guys, come quick! The flower guy got stuck in the security system on the lawn!"

Rogue narrowed her eyes at Logan.

"What?" Logan threw up his hands and stomped out. "Girls!"

Men!
 


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