Author Notes:
I just feel slashy today. Dedicated to Nacey for introing the pairing well enough for me to get a feel for it and partially in response to Shade's challenge to write something that isn't L/R.

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Half-asleep on the couch, St. John lightly hit Bobby's shoulder, trying to fish the remote from under the younger boy's hip. With a cross between a snore and a grunt, Bobby obligingly shifted and St. John resettled himself with his head comfortably against Bobby's stomach and flipped the channels idly, absently tangling an arm over his head and feeling Bobby's fingers against the back of his neck. Bobby was one of those rare souls who could sleep in any position known to man, and currently he was half-reclined, head against the back of the couch, feet braced on the coffee table. Light snoring. It was endearing.

Flip, weather, flip, nature show, flip, chick-flick, flip, news, flip--oh yeah, Saturday morning cartoons. This was the good life.

Mornings were good times. They were unstructured, made to order uselessness. Time to reflect on life, lay around the house in sweatpants and no shirt, adults sleeping in and a breakfast buffet so they didn't have to eat with any kind of manners. His and Bobby's plates were scattered on the other end of the coffee table, perfectly clean--both of them tended to eat a lot and the only real surprise was that Bobby hadn't gone back for thirds. Probably because he fell asleep after eating the very last bite of his biscuit. There were still crumbs on his chest that St. John absently brushed onto the arm of the couch

He'd checked in on Jubes and Kitty before he and Bobby went down. Both blissfully unconscious, and Kitty had thrown one of her numerous stuffed animals at him when he ducked his head in to tell them food was out. They'd sleep 'til lunch most likely. Remy had just buried himself under his covers with a moan and Rogue, no surprise, was nowhere to be found. Much to Bobby's unconcealed chagrin, and St. John sort of wanted to back Bobby up against a wall and ask exactly why the boy wasn't even trying to conceal his interest in Rogue from the guy that he spent three nights out of five sleeping with. Given, there was no sex, so maybe Bobby didn't really classify it as anything until they got to that.

Or maybe he thought all best friends messed around, in which case St. John wanted to know who his example was for that, and if it was Kitty and Jubes, why the hell Bobby hadn't invited him to watch too.

"Hey, boys," came a soft voice, and St. John looked sharply at Bobby, who didn't even stir--wow, he was more tired than he'd thought. Rogue levered herself down on the other end of the couch and St. John frowned.

"Babe, don't worry--I'm pretty sure that skin of yours couldn't be better covered." Sweat shirt, sweat pants, he could see the edge of her bodysuit just over the collar, and the scarf that covered her neck. Black leather gloves--she had a thing for leather that was interesting. She frowned for a second, but St. John shifted until there was enough space for her to stretch out beside him (it was nice the rec room couches were so wide) and her head rested on his outstretched arm, curled quite naturally up against him. More than most, she truly loved physical contact whenever she got it, and she avoided it at the same time. Which he understood quite well.

"How you doin'?" he asked softly into her hair and she took the remote, flipping the volume a little higher before turning to face him--oh yeah, white noise, keep ole Bobby sleeping. Early mornings were not when Rogue dealt best with others, especially besotted puppy-boys.

"Tired." There were dark circles under her eyes and a tightness around her mouth that told him more than Bobby's mumbled explanation when he'd finally emerged from her room the night before. "Bad night. Did Bobby get back to sleep okay?"

St. John grinned a little in memory and she giggled softly.

"Yeah, shoulda guessed. How's it goin', anyway?"

"Good question--don't think either of us know the answer to that one." He sighed a little despite himself and Rogue tentatively put an arm around him in an awkward hug. He curled the arm under her head around her shoulders and her body finally began to relax against his. "Remy still chasin' after you?"

"Remy's chasin' after everyone with a pulse," she said with a grin. "He and Jubes were yellin' at each other through most of the movie last night and I got away early. Don't think they even noticed I was gone."

"Prob'ly not. Should lock 'em up together and let them get some tension out." And videotape it as well, for posterity. Maybe set up some time delayed cameras and a decent sound system. St. John got the feeling that when they finally broke and got down to business, no one in the dorms would be sleeping anyway.

"They'd blow up the room--kinetic charges and plasma bursts would be some mighty fine entertainment, though, all things considered." Another wicked grin and she shook her head. "You could just tell him how you feel and not knot yourself up in misery like this. Healthier or somethin'."

"I'm a guy, Rogue. We don't talk about our feelings."

She mused on that briefly and conceded with a short nod.

"Good point." A few moments of comfortable silence, and he watched her twist a strand of hair absently between her fingers. "Mr. Summers asked me to join up in the advanced combat class this summer."

There was a level of wariness in her voice--Rogue just didn't share, as a general rule. Probably because she tended to mix up her confidences with the personalities in her head on occasion, and didn't want to let anything slip that had a backstory that would disturb them. Like the whole Charles/Eric thing, which just gave St. John a case of the heebies any way you cut it.

"Yeah, he told me. Me and Bobby are in too." Another twist of her hair--uncertainty?--and then she looked up at him, a little frown of determination creasing her forehead. "Somethin' wrong with that?"

"You and the others, you've been doing stuff--training--for years. You know? And I haven't done anything--well, not me as Rogue, anyway."

A sideline reference to her plural memory--St. John glanced at Bobby quickly, saw he was still asleep, and then looked back at her.

"He must have wanted you in for a reason or he wouldn't've asked."

Rogue paused, then frowned again, a different frown, more as if she was weighing the pros and cons of what she was about to say. Finally, it seemed to more or less come out in his favor, because her body relaxed again and she finally answered.

"The--the other personalities--the memories--they sort of help out with the combat stuff." Another pause, longer than the first. "I *can* do a lot of things--but not when I'm really me."

Probably the most convoluted bit of information about her he'd heard, and he had to think it through several times before it made sense.

"Oh." Finally, it hit him--so he could be slow sometimes. "You gotta call up Wolverine, right?"

"Right." A lot of relief he figured it out on his own. "And don't get me wrong, I like havin' him around--keeps Eric in line--but I sort of like bein' me. Cyke--eh, Mr. Summers--thinks that the more I train, the more my body will know how to use the memories without having to--channel Logan or anything."

That was interesting--she had a directory of good fighting techniques with only theoretical application ability unless she immersed herself in the personality. He wondered what Dr. Grey was making of that mutation property--probably having a blast charting this crap down. He'd spent weeks in the lab after classes while she charted out his mutational capabilities.

"So he wants you in the class--"

"Because, theoretically, I'm really, really good." Then she sighed. "The thing is, I don't have anyone to practice with right now, 'cept Mr. Summers, and he's--" she struggled a little, and St. John understood completely. He couldn't imagine having to do one-on-one combat classes with Mr. Summers--the level of anality must be frightening as all hell. "--well, you know how he is. Jubes and Kitty are great, but I'm not puttin' them in the position of having to say yes, knowin' that they are still sorta uncomfortable around my skin--and Bobby and Remy--" she trailed off with a slight flush.

Oh yeah. He got her point completely.

"Shit. You got a problem there." And she really did--Bobby and Remy would be way too happy to give her one on one, but Rogue, as far as anyone could tell, had about as much interest in them, or anyone, as she had in meatloaf--nice while around, but not something you seek out or anything. It kicked something over in his head, though. "How fast can you change?"

She gave him a blank look.

"Huh?"

"Lycra, whatever it is you work out in with Mr. Summers. Go get it on--Bobby'll sleep the morning away and no one is scheduled for the gym until late afternoon."

She half sat up and St. John checked Bobby again. No reaction--it was his theory Bobby really could sleep through a major war.

"Why--"

"I'll work with you." And get some energy out, since Bobby had unfortunately fallen dead asleep way too soon last night and the shower, let's face it, only goes so far. His reward was the sudden light in her face--and he knew she never, never would have asked him for help like this and enjoyed the fact that he got a smile he knew he'd seen her rarely unleash--that smile that got men to roll over so she could step on them instead of in mud puddles or something. He grinned back. "I'll meet you in the gym in five minutes."

She nodded shortly, bouncing up and out of the room and he leaned over Bobby.

"Hey, buddy."

"G'way. Kids need sleep." Bobby twisted over a little, a hand reaching up to absently run over his shoulder.

"S'okay. Go back to sleep. I'll get you up for lunch." He brushed a kiss over the flawless cheek--Bobby had some of the best adolescent skin St. John had ever seen--and began to stand up, flipping the volume up one more degree and giving Bobby all the noise he needed to doze the morning away--hmmm, he was gonna miss Mickey Mouse. Before he could move away, a hand anchored itself around his neck and he got a long and very heating kiss, and he felt his skin temperature jump amazingly, hands beginning to burn just a little where they rested on Bobby's cool chest. Oh shit, all kinds of tempting just to drop in his lap and have a little fun now--

Of course, Bobby fell back asleep with a little smile on his lips, and St. John thought about arctic temperatures and polar bears and how he was gonna be really careful with little Miss Rogue, because shit, in this mood, he needed to do some serious damage and he didn't think she was really up to that. Better go warm up--quick cold shower first--maybe punch the hell outta the bags beforehand.

He was gonna have to talk to Bobby soon, though. Hell if he knew how he'd broach the subject though. And *had* Kitty and Jubes been up to some fun and he, St. John, didn't know about it yet?

So many interesting questions. Maybe he'd ask Rogue while he was at it. She didn't miss much. With that thought firmly in mind, and not how good Bobby tasted, St. John made his way to the gym.

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