Warnings: Scott/Rogue for all you fellow gleefreaks like m'self. Short!
Notes: Watch me steal shamelessly from the bard!
Summary: "You are more precious to me than salt."
She thinks, sometimes, that the thing they're doing is seriously fucked up. That this - her silk-covered hand in his hair, his lips wet through the bodysuit on her breast - isn't the way it's supposed to be.
Marie knows she's not his first choice. There are shadows between them, almost tangible in the dark of his room. Jean was here first. Longer. Died saving them all from millions of gallons of water - died to save them.
And there are moments when she can almost feel Jean in Scott's eyes, lurking somewhere in the back of his mind. Marie can almost see the invisible fingerprints of Dr. Grey, and it hurts.
She knows Scott can see Logan on her. Wisps of the longing around her lips and patches of hurt on her face.
They're living with ghosts, the both of them. Lost in this need for someone. Something.
Then, he smiles at her. Unexpected and free, at something she's said, or she's done. And she knows that it goes into his eyes and his heart. In those moments Jean and Logan disappear and there's just Marie and Scott.
She loves him then. Her heart heavy and swollen in her chest like a water balloon just about to break. Because he needs her. Needs this. She makes him happy. She needs him.
So, when he pulls her tight against him, his eyes blind with goggles for sleeping, and kisses her hair, she thinks maybe this isn't so fucked up.
"You are more precious to me than salt," he whispers in her ear.
And she knows it's true.