Title: X-Men United: The Shirts & Gloves Remix
Fandom: X-Men Movie
Summary: Four little scenes missing from X2 involving Rogue, clothes and touch
Category: Hints of Rogue/Jean, Rogue/Bobby, Rogue/Wolverine and Rogue/Magneto
Thanks: To Chachirinoda for the beta! Much love!
*Note: Not an actual Remix fic
Part One: Forrest green spaghetti-strap top and full-length black opera gloves
“Is that everything, Dr. Grey?” Rogue asked as she slid the last armful of books onto the shelf.
Without looking up, the doctor replied “Yes, Rogue. That should be everything.” She wrote something quickly and closed the notebook she was working in. Fiery green eyes looked up to meet cordial brown ones. “I would like it if you called me Jean…” she said hesitantly.
Rogue’s cheeks flushed a bit and she smiled. “Only if you promise to let me help you out next time Ah’m late for class and run smack into Piotr.” She laughed a little, showing that she felt easy and comfortable with the situation.
Jean smiled vaguely and rose from her chair. “I wouldn’t miss it. Thanks for your help, by the way.” She walked casually towards the brunette.
Rogue extended her arm for a handshake, but didn’t immediately let go. “Well, Jean, Ah’ll see ya later. Oh, and, ah… call me Marie.”
Part Two: Long-sleeved navy blue v-neck and kid leather
Rogue couldn’t count anymore how many times this had happened: the playfully innocent poking and tickling evolving into something that was definitely not a game nor was it even remotely innocent.
Fully clothed, Bobby and Rogue lay pressed close on a sofa in the common room. The end of a movie was on the television, but neither was watching.
They were too focused on moving just the right way and gasping with surprise and pleasure at evaded close encounters with each others skin.
“Bobby…” Rogue said, her voice low, her unbearably soft gloves sliding down his face, her lips mere centimeters away.
“Mmm?” he replies, concentrating on getting their lips closer together.
“Ah don’t wanna hurt you, Bobby…” She could feel the space between them change as he smiled.
“You won’t hurt me. It’s ok.”
His unprotected hand smoothing its way over her hair and down her back was too much. Rogue sat up abruptly and scooted far from her boyfriend. “I won’t hurt you if I don’t touch you, Bobby. I’m sorry.” And she was gone around the corner back to her room.
Part Three: Black leather tank top with fishnet sleeves and black stretch gloves
Wolverine smiled against the darkness. He had sensed her as he turned down the hallway. “Rogue,” he stated easily, with a comfort that came from the belief that he had done right in leaving her here.
“In the deadly, life-sucking flesh.” She stepped from the shadows with a playful gleam in her eye.
Wolverine raised an amused eyebrow at her self-depreciating humor. “Couldn’t sleep,” he confirmed. “What’s your excuse?”
Rogue stepped closer. “You really underestimate how much you are still in my head, Logan…” Her tone was still light, but Wolverine was quick to change the subject.
“I, uh, like your shirt.” He gestured vaguely with his hand.
“Thought you would.” Rogue smirked and walked past the man, pausing a moment to poke his side before continuing on.
Part Four: White ¾ sleeved blouse and fingerless gloves
Rogue eyed their “former” nemesis from the corner of her eye. “Well, are you happy?” she couldn’t help asking, a touch of irritation in her voice.
Magneto raised an eyebrow but made no attempt to answer.
An exasperated sigh escaped Rogue’s lips. The fire leapt in response. “You were right. You know, about the whole war. Are you happy with yourself?”
Magneto gazed into the fire, blinking slowly before replying. “I’m hardly enjoying this, my dear.”
Rogue stood up, holding her hands closer to the fire to warm the sudden chill that ran through her bones. “Not even gonna satisfy yourself with an ‘Ah told ya so’?” She glanced at him once more.
A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. “No, my dear. Perhaps I’m not who you think I am.”
“Ah doubt it,” Rogue huffed, walking heavily past the older man towards the line of tents only to be stopped suddenly by his hand heavy on her elbow. He said nothing, but his cold, metallic eyes bore into her softer ones speaking volumes.