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Beer Before Liqour

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She dusted herself off as the simulation shut down, gears whirring as weapons and enemies faded into the walls of the Danger Room. She’d snagged a gaping hole in her practice uniform on some metal girding and lost a glove somewhere, so she hung back and pretended to fuss with her ponytail and the rip in her uniform until the others had filed out. Just to be safe.

“Not bad, kid.”

And of course Logan had stayed behind, too. Leaning up against a wall and making not even the slightest effort to look like he was doing anything but waiting for her. She sighed. He probably didn’t even realize he was mother hen-ing her half the time, watching her and waiting around for her all the time. She’d have to clue him in – people were starting to talk, and getting all kinds of wrong impressions.

“I sucked. Bobby died, Kitty got captured – “

“Funny how that worked out.”

“ – and you had to come in and save my ass, again.” She blew a bit of loose hair out of her face.

“You’re getting better, Rogue.”

“Bullshit.”

He grinned, and she thought that maybe she was one getting all kinds of wrong impressions, because that grin was not the typical Logan-to-Marie grin. That grin was closer to buy-her-a-drink-and-see-where-the-night-goes, though not quite. It was just different enough to be new to her. And yes she catalogued his expressions. So what. It meant nothing. Never mind what Jubilee might think.

He moved suddenly, pushing off the wall and moving closer than she was comfortable with in her ripped uniform and missing glove, and she took an involuntary step back. He rolled his eyes and gently (so as not to startle her, she was sure, because Logan rarely did anything gently) grasped her wrist – just above her naked hand.

"Relax, Marie," he grumbled at her when she started to protest, and shocked her into silence by lifting her hand to his mouth and oh-so-lightly brushing his lips over the back, before letting go and turning to the door. "C'mon, I'll buy you a beer."