Title: Figuring It Out - Part One
Author: White Witch
Email: whitewitch@poetic.com
Rating: R
Summary: It takes more than just pencil and paper to figure things out.
Feedback: Yes, please. Flames included. I just love having those bad ones. Really perk me! NOT! Just give it to me. I can handle ‘em.
Archives Rights: Fanfiction.net. You want just ask.
Disclaimers: Own nothing. Except the plot. If there’s actually one here. Hehehe... Any new characters are mine. Fox and Marvel take credit for the characters.
Author’s Notes: My first attempt at UST. Hehehe…Don’t say I didn’t warn you! I recommend you to listen to the song: Talk Show Host by Radiohead while reading this fic. It plainly sets the mood, I think. Especially when things get hot! Hehehe...I was listening to it while writing. Also, THANK YOU, MARISA, for beta-ing me!!!! Doing a series ain't easy without making lots of mistakes - grammar, spelling, etc. Glad I found her!!!;)

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PART ONE

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Radiohead - Talk Show Host lyrics

I want to, I want to be someone else or I'll explode
Floating upon the surface for
The birds, the birds, the birds

You want me, well fucking well come and find me
I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches
And nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing

You want me, well, come on and break the door down
You want me, fucking come on and break the door down
I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready...

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"J Lee! What is WRONG with you?" Rogue gasped, wide-eyed and blushing profusely. Of course, she should be if they were going to do this during Art class.

Evelyn had said they were going to do figure drawing. Sounded simple enough, she thought. Just sketch a model sitting or standing, striking a pose. Usually naked, nothing to it. Nothing to it when nudity in art meant simply that – art. Nothing erotic about it. It was just sketching the human body. This was too easy for her. She was just good at art. Gifted, if you will.

“Not bad for someone who’s SO into Goth!” Jubilee had teased her one time.

“Not bad? It took me three whole days! And just ‘cause Ah lahke gothic rock doesn’t mean--”

“You call that racket music? And come on, with that amount of black leather you’re wearing? You know how many cows you've killed? And that make-up?” A bubblegum pop would often follow afterwards.

“Three things, J.” She held out three gloved fingers before her. “One, not all mah clothes are leather. This is PVC. Two, Ah’m all covered up not because Ah’m into the nun-vampahre-gargoyle-whatever thingy, ok! Skin. Absorbs. Kills. Remember? Three, Ah--”

“Puh-leeze! You’re just making use of that mutation. And that belt buckle, chica? You and Logan trying to outdo each other?” Often Jubilee would bring up a point--always about her fashion sense. She would argue with her fruitlessly.

Yet now, she could do nothing but glare at Jubilee. Her yellow-clad best friend kept nudging her side and pointing ahead. Jubilee being too excited for art class usually meant something was going on.

“Come on, you gotta see!” A wink. Then a really broad smile, showing too much teeth, squeezing the Asian's face until her slit eyes were mere two fine lines.  But she pulled the restless Jubilee back sharply into her seat.

“J! It’s just—just—“

"Logan! I know, babe, I know! That’s why you gotta--”

But she didn’t hear her. The only thing she heard clearly amidst the howling and whistling of the entire class was her own miserable groan. So figure drawing wasn’t going to be easy as she thought.

Of all people, of all mutants, Evelyn, their resident artist, had to pick Logan. He was hairy, scary, egotistical, and bad-tempered. Reeking so often of only cigars and liquor that it made her think he actually lived and breathed on those two things. He was a wrong choice.

Obviously, she didn’t like him. That one occasion, that very first time meeting him, was enough to tell her that this man, this hairy ape of a mutant, was simply one big, giant problem to her.

“Eww! Stay away from me!”

He had just returned home in the late hours of the night from a bar. All sweaty and pungent from doing more than just drinking with a woman, no doubt. She was up busy with her sketching, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the foyer. Feeling fresh from a shower, she wore only her shorts and a sports bra. No leather that night. Nobody was supposed to be around. So it irritated her when Wolverine actually saw too much of her.

 “You’re in the way, not me. So move! ” The bad breath nearly made her gag.

People, mostly the female occupants, had been telling her the Wolverine was hot. Not to mention nasty, dangerous even, but HOT.

Looking at him then, "Lahke rahgt!" 

He looked NOTHING like hot to her. He reminded her of Lassie having a bad fur day. Dark wisps of hair standing and sticking out all over his head. Some of which managed to clump together to make two pointy ends that looked as though they were his ears. Which seemed kind of cute if she--no way! He wasn't hot. He was rude. He was--

"Move!" He actually nudged her leg with his muddy boot. Eww! 

She should have been afraid but she stood up, pinched her nose and stuck her tongue out. She didn’t believe it either. But she did. She actually stuck out a tongue at him. At THE Wolverine. The mutant who could kill with a single swipe of his adamantium. And she faced such a killing machine with what? A tongue. Her best defense for that moment.

Pencil and sketchpad tucked under her arm, her chin raised high, she turned and strutted away, knowing well that it was a dangerous move. First day arriving at Xavier’s School for the Gifted, she was already making friends with the Wolverine. Not!

Jubilee had gravely warned her about him. “Never get on the wrong side of Wolverine, chica. I’m serious.”

But thankfully, he just stood behind her, apparently shocked. But not for long, she guessed, because an eyebrow was raised and he actually smiled, or rather, sneered in amusement.

“Cute.”

Or that was what she thought she heard him say. She couldn't care much since she was too dizzy from holding her breath too long.

Since then, he had been on her nerves. He knew she wasn’t good at winning arguments. Somehow, and she always hated it, he knew how to make her all tongue-tied. She was sure it wasn’t because of that strong air of masculinity oozing out from him. No way was she intimidated by it. Drawn to it? Puh-leeze! 

Nor could it possibly be that hazel gaze that got so fiery whenever they argued.  So intense that she often ended up on the losing side making faces at him. It disturbed her that she liked seeing him smile at that.

He definitely irritated her. Definitely loathsome. With that kind of attitude, he could never be her Mr. Favorite. So Evelyn was making a wrong choice.

“As you all know Logan is a perfect choice for our figure drawing. If you’ve read your assignment, you will understand that–-”

So maybe he wasn’t Mr. Personality. But surely all that bad liquor in his system shouldn’t have donned him Mr. Muscles either. He didn't have the abs or the calves like Arnie. Didn't have the "I'll be back" quality to go with those muscles. But still, every part of him was nicely sculptured. EVERY part.

So it wasn’t her fault, really, when she sometimes stole a glance or two. She just happened to notice. Who could have helped it? Blame Xavier for having a common changing room when they suited up for missions. 

It was just that one occasion. She turned around to tell him to buzz off because she wanted to change first. It was a mistake, of course. He stood leering. Thick hairy arms across his broad, hard chest. No shirt. Then he simply said, ego in full blast, “No, don't mind one bit. Go right ahead. Don’t worry, I’ll look but I won’t touch.”

Of course she didn’t change in front of him. And as usual she couldn’t utter a single word. She just narrowed her eyes in fury and walked away.

Yet she couldn’t help blushing afterwards. Even now, she was blushing. Okay, so he WAS hot. She finally admitted it. But to have her thoughts straying often these past weeks--no, she wasn't attracted to him. He was hardly her type.

But Evelyn HAD to pick him. Her choices were limited, she supposed. Scott was a tad too tall and misshaped in some parts. She doubted Xavier would have wanted to do it. Which led to Remy. That cute Cajun! But Remy had a weird-looking birthmark on his right--well, just because she wouldn’t swim didn’t mean she wouldn’t look. The X-Men had a thing about showing off during summer.

But Logan SHOULD have refused to model for them. He wasn’t really sociable. And men who made guttural noises could hardly be called the artistic type. In fact, he had even ruined one of her works to prove that point. 

It was only three weeks ago that she decided on Scott’s motorcycle as the main subject to paint. It was supposed to be a solitary activity- she with her hair in a bun, her tubes of oil paint, brushes of various sizes, smooth canvas and the Harley. 

But he had to come lumbering by.

“Whatcha doing?” His sudden growl startled her, nearly causing her to turn over the canvas. 

She turned and screwed up her nose in disgust at Mr. I'm-More-Man-Than-Any-Other-Men. She was supposed to be mad. This was her space. No Wolverines allowed! But she caught on a different air about him that day. He didn't look at all too self-centered. There was a child-like expression on him as he studied her painting. The curiosity was endearing--if she dared to admit it.

But when she was busy painting, she didn't like to be disturbed. “Tryin’ to avoid smelly skunkbears.”

But he wasn’t put off. And she couldn’t stand him for that. He moved over to her and peered over her shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to be?” He pointed to the center of the canvas. The confusing blotches of brown and black paint made the creases between his brows deeper.

“Well, it ain’t you.” She dabbed a bit of red on it.

“So what is it?” He actually shoved her aside to get a better look and leaned further towards the canvas. Head tilted, tumbling his wild, long strands of hair on his shoulder. A corner of his lips turned up. “You’re painting a potato?”

“It ain’t finished yet!” She shoved him back. It wasn't even a hard shove. But that gesture surprised him. So much that his claws popped out. 

Straight into the canvas.

She screamed.

He panicked.  

"Wait till Ah get mah hands on you!" And he ran off just in time before she tore off her gloves. Apparently, rage made her all too willing to touch him. Adamantium or not.

The scare worked well for Rogue in some ways. She finally had Wolverine out of her way. But not without others having to face her own nasty temper. The hours she put into that painting went down the gutter with just three claw marks through it. So she wasn’t feeling all too nice with anyone. He tried to apologize later with a gift - a new pair of leather gloves. But Rogue shoved them back into his face. She hadn’t talked to him ever since.

But now, here they were in the same room. He, on his back, propped on his elbows, in the middle of the studio--naked. And she had to sketch him.

He was getting even with her. No doubt about it, she thought.

How did she figure this one out, no matter how ridiculous the idea seemed to her?

It was just plainly obvious. He knew she would draw him badly. She didn’t like him. She had something against him, whatever it was. So he was making it difficult for her. And if she drew badly, she would fail her arts course and then, bye bye, art college.

"Uhm, Wolvie, would you mind shifting just a little bit to the left. I can’t see your, uhm, front properly."

Her pencil broke. The straight line she was trying to draw swiveled sharply off course. She turned sharply to Jubilee, frowning furiously.

"There you go, chica. A better view for you."

Already she was having a difficult time trying to get her mind straight about drawing a model that she didn’t like, and her best friend had to spice it up by making fun of her. Yet why was it that someone who she should despised, make her all so worked up now? No, not worked up as in annoyed but in a way, in a way that--oh fuck!

"Jubilation Lee!" A very strong cry from her. She had enough of her teasing.

“What’s up with you?” Jubilee stopped her giggles. Concern was now visible on her features for her friend's sudden change of mood.

But Jubilee wasn’t the only one concerned. Everyone had turned to look at her. 

Even the model. 

Clad in only his skin. Too much of it.

She groaned. Terrific!

“Everything all right, Rogue?” Evelyn came up beside her.

“Yeah, just fahne. Could Ah get another pencil? Mahne’s broken.”  She didn’t dare to look at anyone now.

 “Chill, will you?” Jubilee nudged her again.

“Shut up, J. Just shut up!”