Kane and Rogue -- Well, that escalated quickly

[x-traction.livejournal.com]

"Let's be real here," Rogue said around a mouthful of food. "For a local neighbourhood bar, we have not been here enough." Here being Harry's. It was slightly disconcerting that Rogue didn't recognize any of the waitresses.

"And am I getting older or are the skirts getting shorter?" She shook her head. "Soon I'll be telling kids to get off my lawn."

"Let's amend that statement. First, you have not been here enough. Thanks Brier." Kane said as the blonde bartender dropped off his refreshed pint. "Second, you're absolutely getting older. First, you are interested in Logan, who is older than anything in the world ever. Second, I've seen you in a bikini lately and gravity is certainly supporting Magneto against your chest."

Rogue made a face. "That should be thirdly and fourthly," she corrected. Of course Kane would know everyone's name. "And for your information, Logan may be a gazillion years old but he only remembers the last like...15 years. So. I'm pretty much robbing the cradle here."

"You weren't that big into hair when we dated. I have to imagine that going down on him is like face planting into a privet hedge. I mean, do you need to wear eye protection?"
Rogue spit out her drink instantly at Kane's comment. "Jesus Christ," she managed to cough out. "Give a girl a warnin' before describing something like that." Clearing her throat, she reached for napkins and mopped up her mess. "And not that it's any of your business, but we're still not.... there yet.. Takin' our time and all."
"I'd imagine so. After all, he is about nine thousand years old. I'm sure he's got to court you or do whatever they had to do in the sixth century to date. Like, give your father a parcel of his land. Does he have land? Do you think your dad wants a four acre plot in the Rookies? You know, with a sheer cliff and an old she-bear and whatnot."

She gave him a look . "Are you about done now, Mister? You're not as hilarious as you think you are. What's your deal?"

"Are you kidding? This is material for months. Years even." Kane drained off part of his pint. "Relax Beulah. You know I don't have any problem with you dating the Old Man. But you gotta see the humour in it."

She simply rolled her eyes in response and reached for her own drink. "I guess," she responded reluctantly. "I'm more worried bout scaring him off really, if I'm gonna be honest. I mean, let's be real -- we've been in a funny lil non-relationship for how long now, and it's not like things have really changed, but they kinda have..." She sighed and took a healthy swig of her drink. "Dating's hard."

"Of course it is, dumbass. If it was easy, there wouldn't be fights, make-up sex or sit-coms." He said. "But you know Logan isn't the type to run... check that, he is the type to run. But it won't be because he's scared. You're not his teen sidekick any more, Marie. He knows that. So just be honest about what you want and the pace you're comfortable with."

There was no escaping it -- she had to laugh. "Oh man, I'm just as bad as him as running, so guess we're pretty well suited to each other. Plus," she said with a wink, "I guess if I just keep re-absorbing him regularly, I ain't gonna get old, while you, my dear, will wither away and eventually need Viagra."

"Phah... mutant endurance. Even old, I'm still going to be hard all over. And I don't need to use a lawnmower to shave... say, if you're absorbing him, does that mean you'll get the body hair to?"

"But with your luck, you'll be hard in all the wrong places," she pointed out, grinning. "And what is this obsession with body hair? Are you feeling less of a man because you don't have a manly chest of hair? There's implants for that."

"Nah, I'm just wondering how you're going to handle bikini season sporting Logan bush everywhere." He ducked the slap, shifting back on his chair. "Get you the cowboy hat and some foul cigars..."

"I like cigars."

"You like real cigars. Those things Logan smokes are made from black mud, ground roaches and the death of the American Dream based on the smell."

She shrugged. "When the world comes to an end, it won't matter what I smoke. Just like how I drink coffee black. There won't be milk and sugar in the post-apocalyptic world...just well, mud and ground roaches and all sorts of other dubious things that we'll drink and wish for the best. Cigars will just be random leaves that we smoke."

"Sez you. I plan to escape back to Canada, where our breweries have been spared and our borders protected by a giant wall built by the Americans to keep out Mexicans. We don't know why they built in on the Canadian border either, but we've learned to roll with it." He drained the pint and indicated for another. "So you can drink your Roacher's Choice coffee. We shall live on beer instead."

"And see how much y'all get accomplished, you drunk and high Canadians," she teased. "Although, I gotta say, you'd think I'd be an honorary Canadian by now. I mean, I watch hockey, I eat poutine, I can build a quinzee and let's be real -- I still watch Degrassi High. So. Maybe I'll find me a way to get over the wall..."

"I might vouch for you. We'll see. Depends on how the Leafs are doing at the time. Which reminds me. Game is going to be on the television in about twenty. You want to stick around and watch it with me?"

"As long as you're buying," she said. "I might have inherited a healing factor, y'know."

"Going to need more than that to keep up with me."