X-men fic: Under her skin

[maharetr]

Title: Under her skin
Fandom: X-men (movieverse)
Challenge: From the 1character community: one character, fifty themes, fifty sentences. In this case, movieverse Rogue (using the 'theme set' Alpha).
Disclaimer: Not mine; no profit, not so much as breaking even, here.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Spoilers for all 3 X-Men movies. Some of these sentences are based on two femslash drabbles found here: Push/Pull. Love and chocolate to vegetariansushi for betaing each of these as they emerged. Patience of a saint, I swear. Thank you, pretty.
Summary: Asking her if she thinks about it is like asking an amputee if they think about their missing limb.




Perfect
Her folks had loved to tell her that when she'd been born, Mom had counted all ten toes and all ten fingers over and over; it seemed that a pair of gloves was all it took to mar perfection.

Vapor
She's been in the shower for so long the steam has started to evaporate from the mirror, but she keeps scrubbing, even though she knows whatever this is, it's under her skin and it's not coming off with soap and water.

Venom
People have sworn and spat at her, but the most devastating blow is delivered from a hospital bedside by Cody's mother who says: "If we were allowed to shoot animals like you, I'd kill you."

Error
She's actually standing, saying: "I'm sorry, I made a mistake in coming, I should go --" when she sees the knife in Mr Robbins's hand.

Cold
Cody was right: it's freezing, and she's not sure it counts as an adventure if all she's feeling is terrified.

Bribe
One of the truckers she approaches says he'll take her anywhere she wants for a blowjob, and for a vindictive moment she almost smiles and says 'sure', before self-preservation kicks in and she backs off.

Chocolate
"Something to warm you up, honey," the waitress murmurs, putting a steaming mug down by the glass of water Rogue's been nursing for the last hour.

Refrain
She has a story she's been repeating since Niagara Falls, but as soon as she sees him in the cage, she knows she won't be telling Wolverine about her dying grandmother in the next town over.

Tea
"Earl Grey?" Professor Xavier offers while she hesitates in the doorway, trying to think of how to introduce herself.

Envelope
Every letter she sends is returned unopened, and for a while she considers sending postcards so she knows someone is reading her words, even if her parents won't.

Family
Her parents don't want her anymore, so she works to integrate herself into life at Mutant High, then spends months trying to convince herself they don't all mean the world to her.

Ornament
She hangs things in her window: little wind chimes, stained-glass stickers and prism crystals, and for an hour or so each afternoon, her bed is bathed in color.

Ways and means
There are a hundred ways to undress someone using only eyes; a hundred ways to kiss through a sheet; a hundred ways of touching without flesh, and Rogue learns them all.

Touch
Asking her if she thinks about it is like asking an amputee if they think about their missing limb.

Belief
Sometimes at night, she can hear Nightcrawler praying: soft, rhythmic chanting that lulls her to sleep.

Linger
They never talk about how he knows, but after she's done throwing up from his nightmares, Wolverine sits by her bed, holding her bare hand in his gloved ones until she's calm enough to drift back to sleep.

Speak
Practicing in front of the mirror hasn't helped: her legs don't feel like they can keep her up and her lips are trembling, but she fixes her gaze on the back wall so she doesn't have to look at anyone and opens her mouth anyway.

Rope
"Grip with your legs and pull yourself up with your hands," Wolverine says, but she gets half way up and panics: her grip stutters and slides her back down, and when she walks away on shaky legs she sees her gloves have taken all the damage; there is no record on her hands of her fear.

Memory
She joins in on the discussions of screaming family arguments, but tells no one of the feel of the brush through her hair, the tickling, the cuddles when she was sick, or the kisses from stuffy grandparents; some things are too precious to share.

Balloon
Sometimes it feels like her powers are trying to push their way out of her body, as if her skin is stretched too thin to contain it all: one too-deep breath and she'll explode.

Vanilla
"What would you like?" the Baskin-Robins guy asks, and Rogue thinks Shadowcat likes lemon sherbet, Iceman likes chocolate almond, Cody loves … -- so she says "vanilla": no one she's touched likes it.

Mirror
She spends so long in other people's lives and memories, sometimes she's surprised it's still her in the reflection.

Illuminance
Sometimes, when things are good, she locks her door and lights the candles to watch the play of warm light over her naked skin.

Mask
Sometimes, when things are bad, she wears a sweater under a jacket, latex gloves under her leather ones, and wishes for something to cover her face.

Coup de foudre
It's not dramatic, no lightening bolt from above, just one day she looks across the table and thinks "I love you", and it feels right.

Fate
Shadowcat's leg is pressing thigh-to-thigh under the table, Iceman is choking with laughter, Jubilee is looking smug and Rogue grins down at her own plate and thinks: chance had nothing to do with this.

Fresh
There's no one around, so she slips off her gloves and gorges on the fruit barehanded, strawberries and mango and peach and plum, and sucks the juice from her fingers, licks it from her wrists and palms.

Vine
Shadowcat drapes her long hair over one shoulder, and Rogue reaches out, heart pounding, and lets a sweaty tendril cling to her bare fingers.

Pulse
When she presses her ear to Shadowcat's chest, the heartbeat fills her world, but when she spreads the sheet higher and presses a kiss to Shadowcat's neck, all she feels is fabric.

Need
Shadowcat's lips are dangerously close to her bare neck and when Shadowcat moans, "please, please, just once…" all she can think is yes…

Moth
Shadowcat has gone back to her own bed, and there is a moth circling the last lit candle, closer, closer, and Rogue pinches the flame out: always better to remove temptation.

Forest
Sometimes, when things are bad and she can't sleep, she wanders the grounds, sits among the trees until dawn, when the soft light and birdsong make her feel like the only person in the world.

Rose
She's locked her door, stripped off leather and latex gloves and is taking her first deep breath all day when she registers the smell: there is a single long stemmed rose in a vase on her bedside table.

Drunk
She discreetly passes the bottle on when it comes her way, dodging the teasing with a smile that belies the memory of throwing up the painkillers for the hangover headache.

Wind
She slips out onto the balcony, quietly closing the door on the music and laughter from within, leans on the railing and tilts her face to the cool night breeze.

Two
She turns the single dog tag over in her hands, tracing the embossed letters, and wonders what happened to its twin.

Grieve
Of everyone's pain she has absorbed, it is Magneto's quiet ache for the Professor that catches her off guard, gets under her skin the most.

Appetite
It's a craving so strong sometimes that she sneaks away into town and takes off her gloves; little sips of touch and memory that make her feel like a vampire, but that's never enough make her stop.

Photograph
Iceman gives her a camera one birthday and she takes photos of everyone who will stand still long enough because photographs are one way she can't steal someone's soul.

Candy
In town one afternoon, a little boy comes dashing around the corner, his warm body colliding with her bare legs: his shock jars through her and, somehow more startling, so does the gooey-sweet taste of the chocolate in his mouth.

Smoke
She buys them in town, smuggles them back into the mansion under her clothes and figures out how to light them from his body-memory: the deep inhale and exhale is like a forbidden kiss.

Crossroads
One stripped bed, a duffle bag of clothes, money for the bus ticket and still time to turn back before anyone notices.

Medicine
It burns so badly she cries, but she doesn't know which hurts more: the vaccine itself, or the fact that the doctors are still too afraid to touch her afterwards.

Shine
"Rogue?" Shadowcat whispers, there are tears gleaming in her eyes, catching the light as they slip down pale cheeks, and Marie isn't sure she has the strength to say: "it's Marie, now."

Archway
She’s made her choices and they lead her here, so when Storm opens the door and says: “You can come in now, Marie, we’ve reached a decision,” she crosses the threshold into the room with her head held high.

Remain
She should have known that all those weeks of being Marie, of being able to kiss, hug and shake hands would not last: too much of Rogue remains under the surface of her skin.

Spoon
"Hey," Wolverine says as he shoves the cereal bowl towards her, "don't make me force feed you, I'm no good at the whole 'airplanes flying into hangers' thing."

Gloves
Wolverine is mumbling something about spare hide and too much time on his hands, but the stitching is neat and tight, the leather flexing smoothly when she clenches a fist, and she grins her thanks.

Summer
She's never the only student who has nowhere to go in the holidays, but this year she has something to do: she trains.

Butterfly
Before the vaccine, her gloves felt like a cocoon: isolating her to keep others safe; now when she slides her hands into her gloves they feel like a second skin, and letting the white in her hair grow out feels like spreading her wings.

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