Title: A Blind Man Could See
Author: Donna Bevan
Email: bevan1013@mindspring.com
Fandom: X-Men (movie)
Rating: R
Summary: Scott figures some stuff out, and Logan asks for advice - in a very Loganish way.
Series: Adaptations #9
Category: Scott POV, Logan/Rogue romance
Disclaimer: Not mine, boo hoo. :(

Maybe I wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for the fact that they both skipped breakfast. And lunch. And now they're both late for dinner.

Rogue comes in first, scurrying in with that strange kind of grace that seems to be hers and hers alone. With her scarf flying behind her like a flag, she half-walks, half-runs across the dining room to her usual table and sits down. She looks a little out of breath, but otherwise okay. I have to admit, after witnessing that little scene in the hallway last night, I didn't think she'd be so chipper today. Oh, well. Maybe she's realized that Logan is right, and that it would be in her best interests to forget about him. I smile a little as she greets Kitty and Jubilee and begins talking animatedly. Jesus, she's taking all this in stride - the girl is practically glowing.

Logan walks in. No, wait. He doesn't walk in - the bastard swaggers in, just like he always does, and I know that every female heart in the room has started beating faster. It's disgusting, I tell you, the way he effortlessly causes such a stir amongst the girls and women here at Xavier's. Revolting.

Anyway, he pulls out his chair and sits down across from me, winking rakishly at Jean in the process. I don't know if he's still trying to make amends for the way he acted last night in the infirmary or what, but she looks at him for a minute, then smiles. It irritates me. If he's going to be sucking up to anyone today, it should be me. I am, after all, the one with a big fat contusion on my face, all thanks to him.

A moment after I think that, he looks up at me and quirks an eyebrow. "What's up, Summers?" Then he grimaces and says, without a trace of sarcasm or rancor, "Oh, ugly bruise. Sorry about that."

And I'll be damned if he doesn't sound completely sincere. I halfway expect to hear the theme music from "The Twilight Zone" start playing. Then I open my mouth to say something biting and Jean elbows me in the side, so I say instead, "Don't worry about it, Logan."

He smiles at me, an honest-to-God smile, and my confusion grows exponentially. I watch him as he shovels roast and peas and mashed potatoes onto his plate, and he actually leans forward a bit and smells the food appreciatively before digging in.

Something is not right with this picture. This can't be the man I saw standing outside of Rogue's room last night, looking broken and anguished. The man sitting across from me looks like he might jump up at any minute and start dancing on the table and singing show tunes at the top of his mutated lungs.

I think I am in the Twilight Zone. Logan? Show tunes?

Maybe I'm imagining it, all of it. Maybe I'm coming down with a fever or something, and that's why I'm sitting here thinking that this is the happiest I've ever seen Logan act. He seems almost...at peace.

I'm halfway through a piece of Ororo's excellent key lime pie when I glance past Logan. Beyond his shoulder, I can see Rogue at her table. Jubilee is talking to Kitty, waving her arms around to illustrate her point, but Rogue isn't listening to them - she's watching my table.

Correction - she's watching Logan, and the look on her face is every man's dream, an expression of total and utter devotion. I am on the verge of envying him that look when I remember that it must be torture for him, not being able to bask in that love, to hold it close to his heart and keep it. How horrible it must be, to have to turn away from that sort of adoration.

As I'm sitting there feeling sorry for him, Logan finishes his pie and reaches for another piece. At my incredulous look, he arches an eyebrow and says, "What?" I look pointedly at his plate and the second piece of pie sitting there, and he shrugs. "I'm starving, Summers, what of it?"

He starts eating, and I continue to gawk at him. Apparently the side effects of his particular brand of broken heart don't include loss of appetite. Unless.

Unless his heart isn't broken at all, because he doesn't really give a damn about her. Which, in my book, makes him the biggest son-of-a-bitch on this planet. My shocked expression morphs into a frown, and I pick at the last of my slice of pie.

Jean and Ororo excuse themselves, and I notice that the dining hall is half empty. I'm amazed that I've spent most of my meal pondering Logan's behavior. Turns out that I've wasted my time, because the only thing I've figured out so far is that my first instincts about him were right - he's a dickweed.

Kitty and Jubilee walk toward the exit nearest our table, and Rogue trails after them, walking more slowly. She smiles at me, and I greet her. "Hello, Rogue. How are you?"

She looks grateful for my question, and she stops next to Logan to speak to me. "I'm doin' really well, Mr. Summers. I thought I'd go downstairs and check on Remy. D'you think that'd be okay with Jean?" As she speaks, she moves closer to Logan, until her hip is lightly brushing against his shoulder. The movement is entirely unconscious, and she doesn't even seem to notice what she's done.

"I think that would be terrific, Rogue. I'm sure she won't mind at all if he has a visitor this evening." Rogue may be unaware of the contact, but Logan is not. I can read it in the tense lines of his face, in the rigid set of his shoulders. He knows she's there, and he knows she's touching him.

"Good," Rogue says. "I'll see you later, Mr. Summers." Then she turns to address the man beside her, and her voice softens to match the look she was giving him earlier. "Bye, Logan."

"See ya, Marie," he answers, not looking up from his plate.

As she walks away, I stare at my own plate, fighting to control my anger. Who does that prick think he is? If he doesn't return Rogue's feelings, the least he can do is have the decency to fucking look her in the eye when she talks to him. I swear, if it weren't for the fact that I'm supposed the leader of our team, I'd take him out back and kick his ass but good, and I'd make damn sure that he--

The door slams behind Rogue, and I look up. Logan's eyes are fixed on the doorway, and I can see the answer to every question I've asked myself over the course of dinner burning in his eyes. It's so glaringly obvious that a blind man could see it.

The reason Logan isn't acting all broken-hearted is because he's not. It all makes sense now - their high spirits, the fact that no one's seen them all day, the way Rogue was staring at Logan with her heart and soul in her eyes.

Holy shit.

"Who are you trying to hide it from, Logan?" My question surprises me almost as much as it does him. I didn't mean to just lay it all out on the table like that, but.Oh, what the hell.

He scowls at me, not even feigning ignorance. He may think I'm an asshole, but he knows I'm not stupid. "It's not exactly the kind of thing you shout from the rooftops, Summers."

I can't help it - I have to laugh. "Really? 'Cause you both kind of look like you want to." I lean my elbows on the table and my voice becomes serious. "If you're worried about Xavier." It's no secret that the Professor has been rooting for them all along. He seems to think that they need each other, and maybe he's right. Hell, I don't know.

"I'm not worried about him. Even I can tell he's tickled pink by this whole thing." He's still scowling and eyeing me suspiciously, but at least now he's looking at me. "It's just."

"Just what?" I am thoroughly confused again. If he's not worried about the Professor's wrath, then what could be bothering him? I mean, as far as everyone else.Jean thinks it's adorable, and Ororo is reserving judgment for now. As for Rogue's friends, I'd be willing to bet that none of them would give a shit if she dated Peewee Herman, as long as she was happy.

He is silent for a moment. "You're not pissed off about this?" he finally asks.

Wait a minute.He's worried about what I think about this? I would have figured that I'd be the last person with whom he'd concern himself. I overcome my shock enough to say, "I think what you and Rogue do is your own business."

"You warned me off her when I first came back," he reminds me.

I shake my head in denial. "Nope, uh-uh. Think back, Logan. I told you not to hurt her. And that still holds - you hurt her and I'll whip your ass. But what I think about your relationship doesn't really matter."

"But you--" He sounds a little frustrated, and I suddenly know what he's getting at. He's asking for my opinion. He's acknowledging the fact that he values what I think.

It's no damn wonder he couldn't just come right out and say it.

I grin at him and, after a moment, he grins back. I can't believe I'm saying this, but. "Does she love you?"

He shrugs a little. "She says so. I believe her."

"Uh-huh. And do you love her?"

There is none of the hesitation I expected. "Hell, yes."

My grin grows wider. "Then don't even bother with trying to keep up the act, Logan. Just go about your business. Keep it quiet until her birthday, and then who gives a damn, right?"

"Yeah. Right." He leans back in his chair, tilting it back on two legs. "Thanks, One-Eye." He sets the chair back down on all four legs and rises from the table, whistling. Then he saunters out the door, leaving me to mull over what just happened.

So now I'm sitting here with a bemused smile on my face, and I'm not sure which is stranger - that Logan actually asked for my advice on this, or that I told him to go for it.

Jean is never going to believe this one, not in a million years.