Tending Toward Destructive: Thing Two

On Love and Lust at Mutant High #20

by jenn

Author Notes:
Another mini-arc, because they are sort of addictive. Sorry this is so late, but other stuff sort of got in the way. :)

*****

Study, study, study. Studying was good. Studying required privacy. Studying in the library nicely avoided confrontation, because who the hell would bother him--

"Um, Johnny?"

--oh fuck. Bobby would. Of course.

St. John actually jerked in his chair at the sound of Bobby's voice, remarkably close and how the hell did the guy who tripped over his own feet (outside a fight) manage to get so close so quietly? A sharp turn of his head revealed the younger boy as he sat down across the table, and suddenly the library didn't seem quite as friendly as it had. Which was just ridiculous--Bobby was his best friend. So he'd been avoiding him for--shit, six days?--five years of friendship could certainly stand up to six days--fuck, six entire days--of slightly cool relations.

"Hey." Make it look friendly and normal. No, I haven't been avoiding you, Bobby. Shit just happens all the time. 'Course I'm not hiding in the library. Nope. I'm seriously interested in the birth of the Renaissance. "What's up?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you." A pause, and Bobby leaned an elbow on the table uncertainly--the blue eyes were cool, which was different. "You're avoiding me. Shit, you're avoiding everyone, but since they seem to be avoiding me too, it could be just a group thing. You wanna tell me what the hell's goin' on?"

"Nothing." Yeah, like that would fly. St. John carefully closed his book, wishing some weird emergency would occur--fire drills, hehehe, maybe not. Magneto appearing. Rogue going into a nice psychotic episode.

And why the hell was he thinking of her again? Fuck a duck, damn it, she wasn't important. Get her right off your mind, Johnny-boy.

"You don't lie very well, Johnny." Bobby looked hurt, eyes narrowing just a little. "This is about Rogue, isn't it?"

Rogue again.

The world revolved around Rogue, didn't it? If she was okay, if she wasn't, what she wanted, what she didn't. Fuck, St. John knew that life had existed before Rogue, but God knew if he could figure out when it had changed. Staring down at his book, he tried to think of a response. Glanced up as Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

For some reason, he found himself studying Bobby, looking for some visible sign of requited love. Not sure what that would be, but shit, he'd think Bobby would be dancing on the ceiling. Unless he figured out what Rogue's little game was, but Bobby wasn't showing incipient signs of a broken heart or wounded pride either.

It was suddenly and completely disconcerting, looking at Bobby, as St. John realized he couldn't read his best friend at all.

"It is, isn't it?" A pause, and Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "Johnny, I don't--I don't understand. You and Rogue--"

"It's not about Rogue. I'm just tired, Bobby. That's all."

"Did you fight?"

"Yes." Fuck. "Sort of. No. It was just--it's nothing. I'm just--I don't wanna talk about it, kay? Fuck, can't you just leave it alone?"

Whoa, where the hell had that come from?

St. John stole a glance up and saw Bobby was staring down at the table. Long fingers clenched on the edge and frost was forming underneath.

"You know, this is fucking ridiculous, Johnny. Just stupid. What the hell is up with your head? Gimme something here."

A pause, and St. John shut his eyes briefly.

"What did you do with her, Bobby? When you left the room?" Shit. He wasn't gonna ask--yeah, right, you weren't, huh? You want details, Johnny? Wanna know how she felt and how she tasted? Wanna know how Bobby made her sound? Wanna know if she could make Bobby moan and twist and you wanna know if she liked how cold his skin got?

God, you're a sick bastard. Masochism in extreme.

Bobby's eyes widened.

"*That's* what this is about? Me and Rogue? Johnny, I thought--"

Yeah. You thought I'd be thrilled--of course you did. You know, Bobby, what would it do to you to know you were third choice overall, huh? That you were second choice for a proxy? Shit--

"Never mind. Do whatever the hell you want." Opening his book and staring down at it as if he was really damned interested in--what the hell was he reading, anyway? The History of the Automobile. Oh yeah, that'll work. He wasn't Rogue--he wouldn't hurt anyone like that. Ever.

"Fine. See ya." Bobby stood up, leaving the frozen imprints of his fingers on the surface of the wood, and for a second, St. John was tempted to stop him, sit him down, ask him what had happened that night and wait for the answers--though God knew, he could figure it out quick enough. Bobby had finally arrived at six thirty in their room, looking a little dazed and definitely like he hadn't even approached the realm of sleep. Slightly absent all day, but more telling, he'd avoided St. John--which of course, St. John was also doing so brilliantly that he seemed to be stumbling over everyone and their dog he was trying to avoid.

Six days was a lot of time, and it was only becoming apparent to St. John now that he really couldn't do it anymore and make it look natural, not if Bobby was now actively searching him out, not if Mr. Summers', of all people, was jumping in on the act.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck is goin' on with you?"

St. John stiffened at the sound of Logan's voice so close.

"I don't answer to you," Rogue answered, and shit, they were too close, and did they know anyone was over here? The alcove, true, was recessed slightly in the wall, but the shelves wouldn't hide--and hadn't they seen Bobby leave just now, heard their voices?

He didn't give a good fuck what Rogue was up to. Which of course was why he got up, carefully circling the table until he got to the edge of the alcove, ducking out enough to see their position--ah, they'd come through the far door probably. Hmm. Library was Confrontation Place today. Shit, he shoulda known.

Rogue looked like hell. Too pale, and shit, had she started losing weight again? And wearing make-up, which was odd, because she just didn't during class days anymore. Back in layers of clothing, gloved hands picking at her sleeves, obviously wanting to be anywhere but here. Join the club babe, I don't want you here either.

"As of right this fucking second, you do."

"Watch your language. We're in a school, for God's sake." There was something vaguely amusing about Rogue lecturing anyone on language use. "You know how Scooter acts when he hears profanity. And I'm not havin' this conversation. I'm fine, everything's fine--"

"When's the last time you slept more than two hours at a stretch?" One gloved touched her cheek and she flinched.

St. John tried to remember what Mr. Summers had told him about Rogue's use of the gym at night. He knew she had her ways of working off her bad nights before Logan came home--though they had rarely worked very well. Even exhaustion couldn't stop her dreams.

"It's nothing."

Under any other circumstances, there was no way he would have gotten to listen to this much undetected. Logan would have smelled him out, Rogue would have turned to see him, shit, something would have happened. There was something to be said for completely pissed off and exhausted mutants.

"It's not nothing, Marie--"

"I'm fine. Just some bad nights. No biggie--I had them all the time before you decided you wanted to come back and fuck Jeanie after all, ya know? So don't worry--go find somethin' to do. Leave me the fuck alone."

A pause. And for some reason, St. John expected something else--a Loganesque rage of some sort, but all he saw was a sort of cool interest, layered with a range of different emotions he couldn't even begin to identify.

"You are mad about that." Not a question.

"Just facin' reality, like my teachers taught me, sugar." Rogue couldn't manage casual this time to save her life, and it was fascinating to see her that unnerved--Rogue didn't get unnerved.

"I'm not sleeping with Jeanie."

"That's just because she hasn't spread her legs yet." A low growl and Rogue's eyes narrowed. "What, you think I don't know this crap? I don't have to have your memories, sugar--it's plain as day for anyone with eyes."

"It was an accident and I'm not gonna explain myself to you."

Which he was actually doing anyway. Sort of funny in a weird way.

"You don't need to and I don't wanna hear it. Just leave me alone, 'kay? Go get yourself off dreamin' of fucking Jeanie--or just do it, she'd probably throw herself at you if you showed some interest. Get her outta your system. Just leave me the hell alone." Rogue spun--unbalanced too, and St. John blinked when her hand went out to grab the bookshelf to rebalance herself, moving quickly toward the far door and out. For a second, St. John thought Logan would follow her--

--but he didn't.

"You have an interestin' habit of picking up other people's conversations, Johnny. You got a reason for it?"

Oh fuck, he should have known. Per standard operating procedure, his feet didn't work and the air in his lungs actually seemed to freeze--was Bobby still around?--and Logan turned around slowly, leaning casually against the bookshelf. Regarding him with an unreadable expression that always put Johnny in mind of the snake in the lab, before it went after the mouse left in its cage for dinner.

"I'm guessing you--uh--wouldn't think it was an accident." Swear to God, its all a huge mistake. Huge. Massive. How the fuck does this happen to me?

"Every time?" An eyebrow went up--good part, Logan just looked amused. Bad part, Logan was at his happiest when kicking someone's ass.

Hmm.

"Every damn time--er, sir." Believe me. Seriously. Believe me.

"Yeah." A pause, and Logan took a step toward him. All on their own, his feet came to life and started a full-scale retreat, until he bumped into the back wall of the alcove, inches from the window. Good part--Logan looked even more amused. Bad part--see above. Logan liked to fight.

Window, window, window--he could jump out the window--hmmm, sixty foot drop or Logan, and was there really a choice?

Sixty feet, every time.

Logan's gaze on him was more thoughtful, however, than aggressive, and St. John took a breath, letting it out slowly. This was the library. People didn't get into physical fights in libraries. Never heard of it happening. Of course, confrontations didn't happen in libraries either, so who the hell knew the score anyway?

"We're gonna have to talk one day, kid," Logan said finally. Then smiled again, slightly wolfish, really fucking amused, before he turned on his heel and left. St. John took a deep breath and his knees, all on their own, went right out and dropped him straight to the floor. Not a bad thing at all. The floor was nice and safe.

Shit.

The End