Ok, I am officially waaaaay to obsessed with Rogue and Logan. Or just x-Men in general. I spent the whole of last week wearing gloves to school and trying to avoid any skin to skin contact. I got some funny looks when I refused to take them off in class…

Anyway, I figured the only way to deal with my obsession is to write some good ol' Rogan fanfiction. Well, if this fails to cure me, I suppose there's always therapy.

Summary: Because when you took away the whole age difference-poison skin-adamanitum claws-angst thing, they were just an ordinary couple in love.

It's all Rogue wanted to do for so long, to touch or be touched, yet when Bobby kisses her, she feels nothing. No fireworks, no sparks. Just a little satisfaction that she is touching another person without draining the life from them. Her powers are far from gone. She can still feel the ominous prickling in her fingertips as her skin brushes someone else's, but she can control it now. The so called "permanent" cure has worn off, but maybe some element of it remained in her system. Or maybe she was able to control her skin all along, she just hadn't known it.

The kitchen is in shadow when she enters, and for a moment she thinks she's alone. But the glow of a lit cigar tip catches her eye, and she finds herself smiling in the darkness.

"Logan?" Her voice sounds too loud in the silent mansion and she bites her lip. There is a soft rustling of fabric as he shifts in his seat.

"Hey, kid." The glow of the cigar vanishes, and she can only assume he has stubbed it out. In the gloom, she makes out his shadowy form as he pats the stool beside him. "Sit down." Negotiating her way around the kitchen island, she cautiously lowers herself onto the seat, hyper aware of the amount of skin her thin nightdress is revealing. She might be able to control her power but she's wary. She doesn't want to risk accidently killing her best friend. They sit in silence for a moment.

"Ah broke up with Bobby." Rogue says finally, folding her hands in her lap. When he wraps his arm around her shoulders, she tenses, but the feel of his warm skin on hers is delicious. After a moment, she allows herself to relax slightly. He's still conscious, which is a very good sign that she's controlling her powers.

"I'm sorry." He grunts. Rogue notices that he sounds anything but.

"Don't be." Bravely, she takes his large hand in her small one. "It just didn't feel… like it's supposed to." There is a long pause before he speaks again.

"I'm glad." He growls softly. "He wasn't good enough for you." His voice is filled with raw emotion, and Rogue's stomach erupts into butterflies, and she turns to face him slowly. His eyes are boring into hers and she takes a deep breath.

"Logan. Ah'm sorry. Ah didn't get a chance to talk to you after… after Jean…" She trails off and wishes she hadn't mentioned her old teacher at all, but Logan doesn't seem to mind. He places a rough palm against her cheek and shakes his head.

"It's not important anymore." He whispers and leans closer. Something inside her screams. What is she doing? What is he doing? "So why did ya break up with Iceman again?" His hot breath passes over her face, and she struggles to form coherent thought. He's so close.

"Ah wanted to kiss someone… Someone who meant somethin'. Ah didn't want to lead him on." Her voice is so low now, if he didn't have animal hearing he would have missed what she said. "And Ah… like someone else." Logan's body tenses, and he pulls back a little.

"Who?" The question is blunt, abrupt. "That Cajun?" She laughs, too loudly for a midnight conversation and claps a hand over her mouth. La Beau? He thinks she likes him? Sure, he's cute but… Not her type.

"No, not him." Taking a deep breath, she reaches for his face, fingers trailing along his jaw. The coarse stubble is rough under her palm. She finds herself wanting to feel it against her cheek and leans in again, closing the distance between them until they are centimeters apart. There is a change in the atmosphere and he places hand on her hip, tentatively. He's reading her reactions, she realizes. Testing the waters. Throwing caution to the wind, she presses a light kiss to his jawbone.

It's as if a barrier has been broken. He pulls her from the stool and kisses her roughly, hands roving over her pale skin, white from years of being covered by layers of clothing. He presses his body against hers and she feels the island, cool through the thin cotton of her nightgown. Such a contrast to his warm body. A loud moan tears through the silence, and she realizes it's her own. Blood rushes to her cheeks and she pulls back, taking in his expression in the dark. He's amused.

"Did Iceman ever kiss you like that?" He asks, running a hand through her hair. She shakes her head and launches herself at him, knotting her fingers into his thick dark hair. The prickling in her fingertips seems far away now. She won't hurt him. Rogue knows that tomorrow, there will be gossip. Wolverine and Rogue. Together. It's wrong, sick. She's innocent, he should know better. To hell with them.

Storm finds them in the morning, curled together on the couch. She smiles and leaves them in peace. They deserve this, because in the end they're just two people tired of fighting their pasts. Because when you took away the whole age difference-poisonous skin-adamanitum claws thing, they were just an ordinary couple in love, and who was she to stand in the way of love?

Hm. Can anyone say cheese? Please review and I'll write more Rogue/Logan stuff. :)