Author Notes:
Stories usually start at the beginning. This one starts at the end.

*****

So he had a headache and didn't want to watch TV in the rec room with the others. That wasn't normal? Or it could be Bobby was watching him with that curious mix of confusion and wariness that just made no sense, or maybe he was just too fucking confused to even put two words together in a sentence and make them come out right. He left the rec room and went wandering around the Mansion--so it wasn't strictly the terms of his in-house probation, he could deal with that. Send out the cavalry, the boy is on the loose. Shit, even his sense of humor was fucked up.

So he was playing the avoidance game. He could do that. Just looking at Bobby reminded him that he really couldn't put this off much longer. He had no good reason not to wander back in there, pull the boy into a corner, and throw out a few thoughts on the subject of relationship--perhaps relationships between two best friends. Would that be so difficult? Of course not. Start simple. I--like--you. Fuck, teen melodrama. Go again. Bobby, how about that little messing-around thing we're doing becoming somewhat permanent and very exclusive? Hmm. Bobby, we could trade up for one very large bed instead of two small ones. Ew.

This so wasn't working, and not working on so many levels.

Rogue still had forty-five minutes left in her session with Logan and he figured that maybe they wouldn't mind if he watched for awhile--well, if they weren't doing the meditation thing, though St. John had some definite points of curiosity as exactly how Logan would look sans clothing.

He figured, from Rogue's blush, pretty damn good. If Logan coaxed her clothes off her too, the two of them could make some serious money in the voyeurism trade. Hiding a grin, and his mood was improving, even if he had no idea what to do about the whole 'talk to Bobby' situation, he trotted down to the other end of the Mansion, studying the design. To think this had once been a single-family residence. You practically needed an alternate mode of transportation to get from one side to the other--bus, car, golf cart, something. Rich people apparently needed a lot of space. He had to wonder what the function of some of the rooms was--did someone really *need* eight living rooms and five dining rooms? Maybe. Just maybe.

The gym door was open and he pushed in, glancing around idly. No one about--maybe this was a meditation day, in which case they'd be in one of the smaller cubicles. St. John had went with Rogue to the supply cabinet a few days before to pick out candles she could stand having around--she was still sensitive to smell, quite an inheritance from Logan--and in her room had shown him and Jubilee (with clothes, damn it) what exactly Logan had taught her. Different, definitely, but St. John had found it equally relaxing and he liked the candle touch.

"Rogue?" Her bag wasn't out here either, and he shook his head, turning a little, deciding he'd have to find a way to entertain himself. Great. Entertain himself. What the hell would he do? Rec room was so out, just looking at Bobby reminded him of what he should be doing and wasn't, and Kitty and Remy were so depressed by the restriction that he actually felt his mood darken at the thought of seeing them. Plus, they had sucky taste in television--seriously, bad soap operas? No thank you, and he'd never pry the remote from Remy's hand without some serious trouble, and while picking a fight with the guy would be loads of fun, his muscles yelled something that amounted to 'do not abuse further'. He got the hint. He liked his body well enough to not want it to show him the sheer pain it was capable of producing if he disobeyed.

"Johnny!"

He turned, grinning to see her bounce in--how she kept her energy level up so high when she got her ass as kicked as he did in classes just amazed him. Jump, skip, run, he tried to remember the last time he'd seen her just walk anywhere. Which was harder than expected.

"Whatcha doin' here?" Absently, she tightened her ponytail and he took in the look of her in spandex. No one quite wore spandex like Rogue. Sure, it *looked* like second skin on anyone--but sometimes it honestly seemed to *be* second skin on her. He supposed knowing you were pretty much sentenced to a lifetime of covering no matter what, you adapted to it.

"Gonna watch you and Logan work out, but looks like you ain't gonna do it."

"Remy back on those soaps again?" At his nod, Rogue frowned. "He gotta get over that, sugar. His favorite character has been married six times this year."

"Looks like you been watchin' too," St. John snickered.

"Only when there was nothin' else on." A little shrug that almost hid her smile, before she sat down by the door. "Jeanie had some medical supplies she had to pick up and Logan went to help her since Scooter had some account stuff to go over. So no meditation--s'okay, Professor called me in to work with him." A simple smile, pure happiness, lit up her face, that he saw her try to fight down. Nothing could stop the curl of her lips though. "We got somewhere today--the Professor thinks if I practice enough, I may be able to control my skin a little. That I am--lemme find his words--'making rapid progress'." Eyebrow arched, half-mocking herself, but she couldn't hide her hope.

"You will. I got all kinds of faith, babe."

St. John loved the Professor. Always had, from the first day he'd been brought here and those kind hands had placed themselves on his shoulders and taken him in as family. Giving him dinner and showing him around, then handing him over to Bobby, who'd put an arm around his shoulders and told him all about how hot his neighbor Kitty was.

He saw Rogue's delicate flush at what he said and smiled.

"You wanna go see if they're back?" St. John asked, noticing Rogue's glances toward the doors, surreptitious though they were. She cocked her head a little, then nodded.

"The car is back--I saw it out the window when I came in here. Come on--they'll use the kitchen door, it's closer to the elevator." Getting to her feet, she pulled her bag over her shoulder and St. John followed her out. And when Rogue wanted to move fast--well, she did. Too fast, he guessed, when she slid on the newly polished floor and almost slammed into the far wall. Putting her bag down, she giggled softly and gave him a glance, before shooting off as fast as she could toward the kitchen door.

Gym shoes were not known for their fabulous traction on polished wood. Nor, as St. John rapidly discovered, were boots.

St. John dug his heels in and took off after her, hearing her laugh as she slid a little toward the staircase, then righted herself before she toppled over, taking off again.

"You're gettin' slow, sugar," Rogue called, before colliding with the doorframe of the kitchen with a gasp. St. John snickered as he came up on her and she slid inside, he only an inch behind her. Heard what could have been a growl--shit, was he gonna collide with Logan? Oh God, no.

It was only Rogue's sharp gasp that made him look up and stare at the remarkably interesting--and compromising--position that Dr. Grey and Logan were in. Up against the kitchen door, obviously having been doing--er, something--and St. John snapped his gaze to Rogue. Nope, didn't see that, Logan, sir. Nothing at all. Nothing happening in here, I'm looking at my boots.

She said in theory it would be good for them to get over their UST the old fashioned way. Practical might be just a little different.

"Sorry, sugar," Rogue drawled, and St. John glanced up at her quickly. There was nothing on her face except amusement. "Just seein' if you needed any help. Apparently, you don't. See ya, Logan, Dr. Grey." With a twirl on her heel, she turned to the door. "You comin', Johnny?"

Dr. Grey had grabbed a package from the counter, was stepping away, a hand going to her hair to smooth it down, not looking at anyone else. Yes, St. John was ready to go. St. John was, in fact, trying to move as quickly as possible toward the kitchen door that looked way too far away.

"Marie--"

Oh fuck. Logan, don't do it. Don't. Please. Let her go, like now, so I can go too. And please don't notice I'm here. I didn't see a damn thing. Just the linoleum of the floor. It's good linoleum, pretty shade of yellow. Seriously. Dr. Grey did not have you back against that kitchen door. I never saw that. I saw nothing.

"Yeah, sugar?" Perfectly natural, the young woman turned, leaning slightly against the doorframe. St. John found himself taking a step back and away, and Rogue waited. Still calm, still acting like it was no big deal, still perfectly in her own special zone of Rogue calm.

A pause, and really, what could Logan say?

"I'll see you tonight?" Edges of uncertainty--he'd never seen Logan uncertain, ever. Which, okay, so he'd known the guy, what, two and a half weeks? Still, there it was--Logan uncertain, Dr. Grey flushing, and fuck, he wished he'd told Rogue they should really go watch those soap operas. Well, they were watching a soap opera, weren't they? Oh, Johnny, that sense of humor of yours.

"No baseball tonight, sugar, sorry. After dinner, I got some research in the library," Rogue answered easily. "Lights out at nine. I'll see ya at breakfast. 'Kay? You comin', Johnny?"

St. John was coming, and as he got to Rogue's side, her gloved hand closed over his, pulling him quickly into the hall.

"You wanna go to the rec room?" she asked just like always, but something about her face made him wonder.

"You okay, Rogue?"

She shrugged.

"Can't say I'm thrilled, ya know. But that's how it goes. I'll survive."

"Rogue--"

She shook her head sharply, then came to a stop.

"Look, I knew it'd happen sometime, ya know? It's not--" she stopped, frowning a little in thought. "I wish I hadn't seen it. It--it's different. Theory and practice." Another frown. "What I know and what I experience. Two different things." Then a quick shake of her head. "Doncha worry. It's no biggie. So she had him against the wall--doesn't say much about her, does it?"

St. John didn't follow her for a minute and Rogue grinned a little.

"Considerin' she and Scooter thought I was fucking Logan."

Ooh, he hadn't thought about that either. Of course, she shouldn't know that he knew that, because she didn't know he and Kitty had spied on her either. Hmm.

"Bitch."

Rogue's smile came out then.

"Yeah, well, me and Jeanie Grey aren't exactly buddies anyway, so no biggie." A pause, and Rogue expression changed just a little. "I'm gonna go take a nap before dinner--I've had a few bad nights."

St. John stopped, a little startled.

"I thought Logan--"

"Grounded to my room, doncha know." Rogue pulled an amused face. "No problem--Jubes wakes me up before it gets too far. I just gotta sleep more now when I can. Do me a favor, ask Kittycat to wake me up before dinner. See ya, sugar." She crouched for a second, and he realized they'd come to her bag. Throwing it lightly over her shoulder, she skipped forward, turning a little mid-skip to wave, before heading for the main stairs with all that amazing energy--and where the hell did she get it anyway?

Rec room. Great. Looks like he'd be fighting Remy for the remote after all.