What the fuck is he awake for?

Seriously, it's three in the morning, and he has those types of cravings like a pregnant woman or something.

Why do I feel like cookies? I must be loosing my bad ass-ness.

But that didn't stop him from stumbling down the steps into the kitchen, and as he rubbed his eyes, and they found Marie standing by the window with the lights off he nearly screamed.

Bad ass-ness is definitely going down the fucking drain.

After shock came surprise. Because she was just standing there, in a singlet and her underwear.

"Whatcha doin' up?" she asks without turning, eyes staring out into the ink of dark outside, and yeah, he stares at her ass.

He licks his dry lips, rubs his head and blinks.

"I was going to ask you the same damn thing," he murmurs.

"Couldn't sleep," she says, turning to him.

Is that…

"Hello Kitty?" he asks aloud, and she doesn't blush, or cover up, just stares at him.

Should it be wrong to be turned on by Hello Kitty? It probably is, but she wears them like a damn pro or some shit.

His stomach growls, brings him back to his purpose and he looks through the cupboards, trying to find those Betty Cookies he had stashed somewhere. He takes the bag with him, turns and she's still staring at him, which is creepy.

"You're leaving tomorrow…" she states, rather then asks and he bites into a cookie, blinks.

"Oh, yeah. That. Slicing and dicing the bad guys, you know…" he shrugs impassively and she looks up at him through her bangs.

"I'll miss you…" she says, her eyes and voice soft, and he nearly misses his mouth. In the silence, which is really freakin' awkward, he can hear his own heartbeat. Or maybe its hers?

He blinks.

"You'll be okay" he says after a moment, turns to walk away.

"Wait" she says, that single word making him halt—and he really does just want to go back to sleep, and this damn body is being such a dick—and turn back to her.

"Why… Why did you let me stay?" she asks, and he kind of remembers that night when he was blind drunk, and she just happened to be close, and he hadn't had sex in like forever, so he asked her to come back to his place. And she had been underage so he just told her to go to his spare room, and then crashed in the kitchen.

And the next thing he knows he's got her here and she's beautiful, who makes him sandwiches and doesn't find it weird he likes to put flowers in skeletons as if they're flowers pots.

"Because" he says, thinking faintly as to where his balls have gone. "You're just a kid."

He looks down at her underwear for emphasis and then pivots on his heel and leaves before she can do anything else to his damn ego or some shit.

It kind of sucks, he thinks as he hefts the blade onto his shoulder, being away from home again. The poor loser in front of him is far beyond dead, and this simple little mission took less then half an hour. He wipes the blood off his forearm with a grimace, and for some stupid reason, he has this floral scent on him, and he wonders if it was there before.

"Oh, ew!" he manages, before his own fingers pry the ear off of his shoulder and throw it aimlessly anywhere.

And he shudders like a damn girl.

The floral scent is still on him.

And as he travels back the way he came, to the mouth of the alley-way, he finds himself staring at a little Japanese girl, her hair in pigtails. He blinks, thinks where the fuck is this girls mother? And stares at the picture on her pink shirt and curses in several different languages because fuck it, he misses his girl, and her perfume is on him, and he's still staring at Hello Kitty.

He doesn't expect much when he gets home, but he comes up with all kinds of scenario's like:

He walks in, drops his swords, spreads his arms wide and says "Honey, I'm home"

Fuck that noise.

No seriously, he isn't like that, and he begins to start a conversation with himself.

"Hey, Rogue, look; I missed you, and that's fucked up because I'm a cruel bastard and I like my damn job, and I hate those fucking brownies you buy because they're dryer then a nuns… and I hate the smell of peppermint but you make it all better and somehow for some fucking unknown reason…" he trails off, stops.

"I like you." He finishes lamely, and then he's standing at the door of his own fucking house and is he actually afraid to go inside?

He finally sums up the courage with pep talk "Dude, this is your house. Who's house? Yours. And she's probably asleep. Just go in and tell her that you want her gone. Okay, you can do this, you've killed people for simpler reasons…"

And then the door is open, and he can hear the sound of Kenny Chesney filling the air, and the heady scent of—

"Oh shit" is all he can manage before he walks into the kitchen, finds her in a fucking Hello Kitty apron—where does she find this shit—baking cookies.

He's not fucking crying, he just has something in his eye.

Badass-ness is totally fucking gone.

But it doesn't matter, because she turns, flashes him a smile and he's actually running in his own fucking house to get to her, wraps his arms around her and smells her perfume.

"I fucking missed you" he says in a whisper and she laughs.

"Cookies for Wade?" she says softly, and he buries his head deeper into the crook of her neck.

"Rogue for Wade" he mumbles, and then she's laughing and he doesn't fucking give a shit if anyone finds his sweet spot, because she understands him like no one else, and right now?

Roomie Rogue is definitely for fucking Wade.