The look
by Te
August 18, 2003

Disclaimers: Still not mine.

Spoilers: Vague ones for X2.

Author's Notes: First line from Molly.

Feedback: Yes, please.


The look could probably be taken as 'come hither' or 'no way on earth could you handle me'. It figures that he can't quite tell which it is.

It's not like Bobby has ever been an expert on sex, or even claimed to be -- outside of that necessary exaggeration that was the soul of wit, or at least the soul of making people spit carbonated beverages out of their noses -- but he's pretty sure that this look is ambiguous.

But then, lots of things are.

Like the fact that they all wear leather, yet no one ever mentions sex, or even their sexualities, which probably aren't all that ambiguous, but still.

Rogue's giving him that look.

Or, well, *not* Rogue, because he's pretty sure Rogue's eyes normally aren't that color, nor was she previously capable of flying on her own power, nor was she previously capable of tossing smallish cars and ripping trees up by their roots, but hey, weird things happen when you're fighting angry mutants, and Rogue isn't wearing gloves, and she's still *looking* at him like no one ever really has, and even though they're strapped into the jet and there are all kinds of people around, people they know, it feels like there's no one else there.

"Uh." He tries again. "Rogue?"

She smirks at him, eyes crinkling up at the edges like there should maybe be lines there, and gives a little sniff.

Now, he's not stupid. More than that, he's been close to Rogue -- boyfriend close, even -- for a year, now. He knows what all of this portends. Knows that the right word is, in fact, 'portend,' like an omen of things imminently going, as Logan puts it, tits-up.

It's now officially time to alert someone.

And he's gotten himself unstrapped and is reaching for Kurt when there's a fist like *iron* wrapped around his wrist, and he'd read that phrase before, but now he really knows what it means.

Like warm, soft skin is just sort of *hiding* a core of metal like something out of the Terminator, where strength is just impossible to calculate in human terms because it really just *isn't*.

Rogue yanks him back toward her and the look this time is a little more Rogue-like, all wide-eyed and maybe even a little pleading, and she brings her other hand up to her mouth in a shushing gesture.

"But... Rogue," he whispers. "You... are you... you?"

And yeah, he's not going to win any awards for coherence any time soon, but Rogue clearly understands what he's trying to say, and smiles at him. It's an affectionate smile, an aren't-you-cute-Bobby smile, and even though her eyes are wrong, he can't help but respond to it.

"Heh, sorry. I was just, you know, worried."

"You should be."

And there's a fist flying at his face and he has just enough time to think about how strong she is, what that fist can do, before everything goes black.