AUTHOR: Kuria Dalmatia
CODES: Post-X3, Bobby/Marie, Kitty
SUMMARY: What's in a name? It wasn't what Bobby wanted.
RATING: R, adult content, profanity, frank sexual situations
ARCHIVING: My LJ only/FFNet only, Originally posted May 2006
Feedback always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: Marvel owns the X-Men, 20th Century Fox owns the movie. Salut! I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done. I'm not making any profit just trying to get these images out of my head.
COMMENTS: Not betaed.
Not my usual pairing and stands alone from the FDoE series right now. Just something that struck me at the end of the movie.
That first night, Rogue - no, Marie Bobby corrected himself for the thousandth time - had fucked his brains out. She had closed the door, stripped his clothes off, and proceeded to do things virgin girls weren't necessarily supposed to know how to do. And it had been all good, without doubt, despite being her first time and Bobby's experience that first times were generally underwhelming.
But Rog... Marie had known precisely was she was doing, from licking the base of his cock to guiding his fingers inside her. She had been dreaming about this, he was sure, ever since her power manifested, and he should have felt honored that she wanted him to be her first not the self-healing, adamantium-boned mutant down the hallway.
What should have been a celebration of impossibilities had left him feeling kind of dead inside.
Marie had ridden him hard until she came, then rolled off of him on to her back, spread her legs, and said, 'Fuck me, Bobby' which he had done, of course. His brain had been focused on one thing at the time, the culmination of his desire for the better half of a year. To kiss her. To taste her. To feel her. To make love to her.
All the internal musing had happened later when his face had been pressed against her chest, mouth close to her hard nipple, and he had began to doze off because he had gotten her off four times and he had come twice.
But they hadn't made love; they had fucked. As a guy, he knew he wasn't supposed to make that distinction because sex was sex, damn it. But this was Rogue, now known as Marie, and there was supposed to be that distinction.
Bobby wondered why she hadn't been more discrete; perhaps he was too old school in that respect, believing that 'gentlemen never tell'. He tried not to resent her for detailing their sexcapades to a gossipy group of girls. And as soon as the adults heard about it, Bobby had been treated to the Safe Sex "Knock her up and I'll kick your ass" speech from Wolverine while Ro had simply said, "Be careful."
The other guys thought he had it made; a horny, beautiful girl wanting him every second she could get. The girls hadn't labeled her a slut because, well, Marie was celebrating her newly found freedom and none of them faulted her for making up for lost time.
Then, Bobby overheard the joke that he was nothing more than a fuck toy, that she was using him to gear up for Logan. He wondered if he was, surprised at the lack of jealousy when he thought about it.
But this wasn't what he wanted.
Correction: Marie wasn't who he wanted.
Marie wasn't Rogue no matter what she claimed.
"Bobby?" a female voice called out.
He tensed automatically, glancing at his clock and thinking Sex before dinner, again? as he looked around his bedroom and tried to remember where he put the new box of condoms. Christ, what was wrong with him? Eighteen and getting sex on a regular basis? Why should he complain?
Then his brain registered the voice, noting that the salutation has been his first name, not Rogue's customary "Hey, lover" she used nowadays before she pounced him. Her newest obsession was fucking him right after he showered, telling him something about the pine-scented soap being a complete turn on. Last week, she had surprised him in the communal boy's shower, startling him so badly that he'd frosted up the entire bathroom and had accidentally iced her feet to the floor. At least he hadn't frozen the pipes, so he had been able to use hot water to free her.
Still, the guys had thought it was hilarious. After all, there had been no way Bobby could have covered up a loss of control like that. Sharra, at least, had been sympathetic as he had helped defrost everything.
Bobby adjusted his towel as he got up and walked over to his dresser. He was about to call out when Kitty phased through the door. "You didn't answer," she admonished him playfully before stopping in her tracks and blushing hard. "Oh."
"Door's locked for a reason," he told her sourly, noting that despite her embarrassment, she was still staring at him. Marie hadn't been shy about describing his particular attributes; he wasn't embarrassed about his body but he didn't like being stared at. He was tempted to drop the towel completely, pirouette, and ask what rating she would give him. Instead, he quirked an eyebrow at her. "You mind?"
"Oh!" she said again and then turned around. It wasn't what he wanted her to do - leaving him alone would have been much better - but then again, he hadn't gotten his way in dealing with women in the past five weeks.
Bobby held back the grumble as he donned a pair of boxers followed by jeans and a long-sleeved, baggy shirt, the one Marie had a particular disdain for. She and Jubilee had inventoried his clothing four weeks ago and had declared a few items 'off limits'. For the most part, he conceded to their sartorial choices, but today wasn't one of those days.
He tossed the towel in the hamper before walking over and flopping down on his bed. "What do you want?"
Kitty glanced over her shoulder as if making sure he was fully dressed before spinning around and taking a few steps towards him. "Just to say hi."
"Hi," he said flatly and then waved. "Good bye."
"Bobby!" she forced the playful laugh before turning serious again. He waited, because clearly she wouldn't have violated his privacy unless she wanted to talk about something. He crossed his arms and continued to stare. After a few moments, Kitty met his gaze before saying quietly, "You're... different."
"We're all different," he replied with just enough sarcasm to make her wince. He learned that particular trick from John.
"Seriously," she said earnestly.
"Seriously," he repeated, exaggerating the vowels.
"When? Jean died? Scott died? The Professor died? Wait! I know, when Jean died again. Does that about sum it up?" his voice took on an unkind edge. She wrung her hands in distress. Bobby Drake wasn't supposed to be the mean, sarcastic one. His former roommate had held that particular job. He wondered why he didn't reference Pyro in his comeback and then decided he didn't want to think about it.
She didn't answer right away, instead closing the distance between them and sitting on the edge of his bed. Bobby wondered what his girlfriend's reaction would be if she found them together. There had always between a slight hostility between Kitty and Rogue that he had never quite figured out, especially after Jubilee clarified that the rivalry wasn't over who wanted to be his girlfriend.
"Sorry, Popsicle," Jubilee had told him one night. "They ain't battling over your bulge."
The Kitty/Rogue disagreements were almost always verbal, Jubilee happily playing the referee when they got out of hand. There were only a few times in the Danger Room where it had turned physical. Kitty's intangibility versus Rogue's body memory of how to fight like Wolverine had always been interesting.
But now... Would it erupt into a verbal bitch fight? Kitty usually won those because she never lost her temper while arguing and Rogue was afraid of calling upon the residuals of Magneto. Or would it turn to hair pulling and screeching? But all Kitty had to do was phase and she was untouchable. All Rogue had to do was...
Marie, he corrected himself. And Marie couldn't do jack shit, not against an alpha mutant completely comfortable with her powers.
"I didn't want to say anything," Kitty told him quietly as she faced him, "but..."
And immediately, Bobby understood what this was about and cut her off before she could finish. Harshly, because he was not in the mood to defend his relationship no matter how fucked up it was, "I love Rogue, Kitty."
Her face pinched. She played with her Star of David pendent. "I know." They sat in silence for several moments, unwilling to look at each other. Then, softly, "You love Rogue."
The slight emphasis on the name stung. Bobby felt his stomach twist and his power slip slightly.
Kitty knew. She understood. She was the only one in the entire Mansion with the balls to call him on it. She had done it once before, although the relationship had been decidedly more private, the pain more unbearable because the circumstances were more political.
The conversation, thought, had been frighteningly similar.
I love him, Kitty, he had said angrily.
You loved John, she had replied.
He pulled his knees to his chest, and stared at his dresser. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kitty's breath fogging. They never had to say much, really, when they had these types of conversations. He took care of her; she took care of him. It was a relationship and an understanding that he didn't have with anyone else at the Mansion nowadays, especially since Scott and Jean were gone.
He recalled visiting her that night after the Professor's wake, how she claimed she was okay despite tears staining her cheeks. He remembered seeing her blades in the closet and hearing her talk about missing home. He had taken her ice skating because, even though she wasn't all that great at it, she loved it. He thought about how they had played around, how she had fallen into him, and how they had stared at each other for the longest time.
In another time and place, perhaps, he would have loved Kitty as a girlfriend, not a sister. He wished he could have that now. The closest thing he could get was-
Bobby extended his hand in silent offering; Kitty immediately clambered over and settled at his side. He held her as she played with the rumple on his shirt. He knew he was stupid for loving simple affections like this, the hugs and cuddles that he had never gotten at home because his father had wanted him to be tough and his mother had agreed.
"I love her, Kitty," he whispered fiercely, hating himself completely because what he had now with Marie wasn't want he wanted.
She slid an arm under his back and squeezed. "You loved Rogue, Bobby," her voice was gentle yet sorrowful. "But Rogue's gone."
She didn't have to add, So is John.
His eyes burned as he choked out. "I know."
"I'm so sorry." Kitty wrapped herself around him tighter and they stayed like that for what felt like hours.
Bobby knew it was only ten minutes.
The doorknob rattled. "Hey, lover."
The door wouldn't stay closed for long. Jubilee had gleefully taught Marie how to pick locks two weeks ago; he still hadn't come up with a proper retribution for that violation. Turning the water cold while Jubilee took a shower just wasn't going to cut it.
Kitty looked up as she grabbed his arm. "This isn't you, Bobby," she told him, tears in her eyes. She had said the same thing when they had talked about John. "You have to find yourself again."
She didn't have to say, Rogue is dead because he knew it, just like he knew that John had died in Canada. Boston, actually, if he wanted to get technical about it.
The tumblers clicked and immediately, Kitty phased through his bed and out of his room. It made him laugh a little, because he had a ghost in his bed, and he wasn't sure why he thought it was funny.
The door opened and Marie sauntered in; the sage green sundress fit her perfectly and showed off curves and bare skin. Just six weeks ago, he would have seen her as stunning. He would have smiled and admired her, asking her to pose for just a few minutes while he created an ice sculpture in her image.
He didn't do that anymore.
They didn't thumb wrestle over which movie they were going to see.
He didn't pluck flowers from the garden for her or run them across her bare skin instead of his hands.
They didn't sit with her on his lap in the oversized chair while watching TV.
He had done those things with Rogue, not Marie.
Marie was someone different. Someone plain.
In a mansion of extraordinary people, she was merely ordinary.
He wondered why she was still here.
"Hey, lover," he replied, because that was what he was supposed to say nowadays.
His heart wasn't in it, but she didn't have the power to know that.
She was merely Marie.