Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Since it was requested by everyone that reviewed I decided that what the heck? Let's try it. So please, please, please review. Please?


by Miranda Panda-chan

The first girl to flirt with him got a broken nose, and the first boy to flirt with her at the mansion got a broken nose, a dead leg, and his eyebrows burned off: but now everyone knew better than to flirt with either, because it was well-known that she belonged to him, and he belonged to her and only her.

"You actually think he likes you?" she sneered, "C'mon, you're nothing. You're wimpy, and besides, Pyro needs a real girl—one that connects with him in ways you cannot." Again with the sneering.

Tch, bitch please. Rogue just stood there, green coat, black gloves, hair down and platinum strands framing her face perfectly as she glowered at the irritating girl in front of her go on and on and on about how wonderful she was and how idiotic Rogue was.

"I mean, honestly, anyone can tell he just hangs with you because he feels sorry for you. I mean after Bobby and Wolverine both left you…" Rogue hadn't actually asked for this. She'd been minding her own business. Honestly, her revenge wasn't even planned yet, formulating but not yet completely formed, much less put into action. But she decided that this probably made them about even. Her right arm reared back, fist suddenly coming forward and connecting with a painful crunch with the nose of the dumb female.

"YOU BITCH! YOU JUST BROKE MY NOSE!" and it all just went downhill from there.

Johnny, Pyro, John Allerdyce was hers.

They both lunged, beginning the catfight that no one would know about until the next morning because everyone else was inside, where it was warm and dry. Nothing better than a wet catfight, someone had once said—and it was either John or Logan that had said it.

But, even with powers, that didn't do a whole lot since lava or magma or whatever hardens with cold rain, and it was New York—it was cold, damn it, Rogue was the winner, as always. She didn't say anything corny, like, "Stay away from Johnny, he's mine," or, "C'mon, you're just a whore, he's so obviously meant for me," or something bitchy like that. No, she was content with the broken blood nose she'd given the little whore. She smirked at the indignant and shocked face of her opponent.

"I'll tell Pyro about this! You just wait and see if he still wants to hang out with you then!" she yelled as Rogue walked away, flipping her wet and matted hair. She was gonna go take some Advil and bandage a couple scratches because, she'd admit, that whore's nails scratched like a bitch.

The next morning was, by far, the most amusing thing she'd ever seen. It had been dark, she didn't exactly know the extent of the damage she'd done, just as she hadn't known the extent of the damage to herself until she'd looked in the mirror to try and conceal that she'd been a part of a brawl at all.

Amara looked awful.

And she couldn't help but giggle mischievously when she'd been shot a glare from said person.

Her blonde ringlets were astray, matted, slightly brownish, and looked to be tangled with what appeared to be grass. She could only suppose she hadn't showered the night before, ew. Her nose was purple, a bruise forming on the bridge that spread to just beneath her left eye. It was swollen and looked to big on her pixie-face.


"Whore." And that was just in passing. And Rogue couldn't help but feel slightly smug that nothing showed, because really—how much damage can show from underneath three layers of clothing? The most she'd had was a fairly nasty scrape on her should where she'd dug her nails in. The only thing showing was a small nick right next to her ear. Nothing incriminating. It was too small for anyone to really notice, besides that, her hair covered it for the most part.

"Woah. What the hell happened to you?" Pyro asked, raising an eyebrow. Amara's eyes widened, glared at Rogue, and then welled up with tears.

"PYRO!" she wailed, flailing over to him, he took a step back at her sudden appearance in front of him, "That little bitch—sh-she told me to stay away from you and that you were hers and then she punched me and—!" he looked over to me as I stared at my nails again with feigned interest, resisting the urge to grin like a Cheshire Cat.

"Amara, get the hell off me." He sneered as she looked, an incredulous expression crossing her face.


"Seriously, you look and smell like shit." He said, not bothering to hide his obvious distaste for the girl. Thankfully, those three were the only ones in the hallway. It was the girl's hallway, and Rogue had a room of her own. Amara shared one with two other girls, and Pyro always walked down to pick up Rogue and then go eat breakfast. It was a best friend thing, or at least that's what they called it. Others called it 'whipped' from a male's point of view, and 'romantic' from the female side of life. They called it friendship.

"So you really beat the hell out of her over yesterday?"

"Nah, she'd just been pissing me off, and by pissing you off and by 'raping' and or violating you, she pissed me off even further. Think of it as payment for last week's food bill." She said winking and smiling. He smirked, slinging an arm around her shoulder as they continued walking leaving Amara to run crying back to her dorm.

"You kinda look like shit, too, Roguey." He said cheerfully.

"Yeah, but I bet I smell better. I at least took the time to brush my hair out and take a shower so that no one would know I was involved in a catfight."

"You failed."

"I know. But you know the shitty look actually turns you on."

"Oh yeah, totally. You always turn me on, Roguey." He said winking and giving her that bad boy smirk that made all girls swoon.

She couldn't help but giggle, and try to ignore the faint heat that was gathering in her face as she smiled back.

They were just best friends.

But he still belonged to her.

A/N: Please please please review!