A Touch of the Blues part 2
     
      Author: vangiekitty 



Disclaimer: not mine- I only wish!
 
Here is a little more of A Touch of the Blues, dedicated to the folks at the 
reguardinghank egroup. Sure could use some suggestions and observations guys! 
Thanks, vangiekitty
 
                  A Touch of the Blues  part 2
 
      After that one enlightening evening in the coffee shop, things changed 
subtly between Hank and Rogue.  They somehow seemed to run in to each other more 
often.  And Rogue even ventured down to Hank’s lab once or twice to lend or 
return a borrowed book. For having found that they both shared a love of 
reading, they were eager to share their favorite books with each other, like 
introducing much loved friends. Their discussions grew out of the books they 
shared and it wasn’t long before Hank invited Rogue to Starbucks again and soon 
it was a weekly  ritual which they began to call their “midnight coffee 
sessions”.
      Sometimes others of the team joined them and the discussions of books they 
were currently reading were lively and entertaining.  It was at one of these 
sessions that Logan was made to admit that the Anne of Green Gables series was
      “Pretty good.” As he grudgingly put it. “But listen Bub,” he growled 
menacingly at Hank who was sipping a double latte and balancing as usual on one 
of the rickety Starbuck’s chairs, “If Gilbert dies o’ that fever and he and Anne 
don’t get together, I’ll have yer guts fer garters! Why do all the books ya 
recommend ta me have ta be sad?”
      “At a tense part in the book, are you Logan?” inquired the furry blue 
scientist easily. “But I think you can trust Lucy Maude Montgomery not to kill 
off one of her main characters in the middle of the series. After all, there are 
several books left you haven’t read yet.”
      “There are? Oh yeah, there are.” Logan sounded vastly relieved and Rogue, 
who had been silently listening to this exchange, couldn’t help but smile. Logan 
thought he had them all snowed but his sensitive side was showing more and more 
since Hank had taken him under his wing, so to speak, and started recommending 
books. In fact, the whole team was changing in response to Hank’s increased 
participation in group discussions and meetings, etc. What had caused him to 
change, she didn’t consider, although the answer was there, right under her nose 
in the form of the growing friendship that was between them.
      In fact, though the midnight coffee sessions were more lively on the 
nights when other team members tagged along, Rogue found she liked it best when 
only Hank and herself were present. It was so much more cozy. So much more… 
intimate.  But she didn’t let herself dwell long along that line of thought.  It 
was pointless to wish for something she could never have, so she tried to keep 
herself from wishing in the first place.
      Still, there was no denying that the conversations were more intense and 
personal when Rogue and Hank visited  Starbucks alone.  It wasn’t long before 
Rogue felt she could tell the sympathetic Hank anything and never fear having it 
repeated.  Hank, in his turn, began to talk about his past, something he had 
rarely ever done, even with Bobby. Rogue was surprised to learn that he had been 
nearly as lonely and isolated as herself.
      “But I burry myself in my work.” He said simply.  “It isn’t difficult to 
forget when I have something as fascinating and deadly as the Legacy Virus to 
distract me.  It is truly a matter of life and dead- which adds, of course, to 
the interest.” He sighed. “It’s easy to forget how isolated I’ve let myself 
become when I’m completely submerged in a project.”
      “That’s just how I feel about readin’” Rogue remarked. When you’re deep 
inta a good book, like “Pride and Prejudice”, for example, you can forget most 
anythin’ and just imagine you’re there, in the author’s world. I wonder what it 
would’ve been like ta live back then?” she murmured, dreamily.
      Hank was intrigued.  Until recently, he had always supposed Rogue to be a 
practical sort of woman, not given to daydreams of any kind. But the more he got 
to know her, the more she surprised him. He loved the dreaming, gentle look that 
passed over her face at times like this when she seemed lost in another world.  
A faint flush had crept into her smooth skin and her dark eyelashes were nearly 
closed, brushing delicately along her creamy cheeks in bristly fans.
      “Why does living in the era of Jane Austen appeal to you, my dear?” he 
asked gently. Rogue looked up and shrugged a bit sheepishly.
      “Well, it’s just that…” her eyes dropped and her voice hesitated a bit. 
“Just that I might have… fit in back then, ya see?”
      “In what way?” Hank enjoyed drawing her out.
      “Well, for one thing, the ladies all wore gloves.” But that wasn’t the 
real reason behind her daydream,  Hank could plainly see.
      “I assume that is not your only criteria for wishing to live in the world 
of “Pride and Prejudice.” He surmised.
      “No… I guess tha thing that really appeals ta me about that period in time 
was the touching.  Or, really, tha lack of touching. Do you follow, Hank?”
      “I think so, but please continue.”
      “Well, ya notice in the book how polite and formal everyone is to each 
other.  I mean, the couples, they don’t even hold hands ‘till they’re formally 
engaged, let alone kiss.  In the society and times we live in, there’s so much, 
well…” She indicated a young couple across the room from them who seemed to be 
completely oblivious to anyone but themselves.  The girl was so far off her 
chair that she was practically into her boyfriend’s lap and Hank wondered idly 
if the spindly chairs that Starbuck’s provided were meant to endure the kind of 
abuse the loving couple was currently subjecting them to.
      “Public Displays of Affection.” He stated dryly, turning his head away 
from the site.  It appeared that the young man was intent on performing a 
tonsillectomy on his date using only his tongue and it made Hank faintly ill to 
watch.
      “Yeah.” Rogue sighed softly, looking down at her own gloved fingers, 
tearing a napkin to bits. “It’s… hard ta watch sometimes, ya know?”
      “I know.” Hank answered gently. He saw that she was very near tears and 
his heart ached for her, so beautiful, yet so solitary and untouchable. He 
wanted to take her mind off her troubles and so he tried to change the subject.
      “Can I ask you a personal question, Rogue?” he asked, striving to keep his 
voice light.
      “Sure, Sugah, anythin’.” Her voice was low, her mind still preoccupied 
with other things.
      “Do you think I would have fit so neatly as yourself into Jane Austen’s 
universe?”  The unexpected question brought a smile, if not an outright laugh 
from the startled Rogue. She looked up at him and he was relieved to see that 
the silvery sheen of unshed tears had left her eyes.
      “Why Sugah, your manners are courtly enough for Buckingham Palace. I’m 
sure you’d fit in just fine!” She said, ignoring the obvious question of 
appearance on purpose.  “Why do you ask?”
      “Well, because much like yourself, I also wear gloves of a sort.  Which I 
can unfortunately never take off.”
      Rogue looked uncertain. “Are ya speakin’ metaphorically, Sugah, or what?” 
she asked, mystified.
      “Oh no, I assure you I am being quite literal.  You see, my fur extends to 
all parts of my anatomy, up to and including my palms and finger tips.” He 
extended one huge, blue hand, palm side up under her gaze to demonstrate his 
point.
      “Oh!” She said looking closely, “I had no idea, you can hardly see it.”
      “Yes, it is mercifully short in that area.  I hardly notice it anymore 
though when I first became… the man you see today, it was a point of constant 
irritation for me.  I am quite used to it now, however.”
      Rogue studied his palm as closely as she dared without risking it touching 
her face.  “The hairs are so tiny ya can’t even see ‘em, except under tha  
light!” she breathed, mesmerized at the way the ultra-short, glossy hairs 
glimmered when they caught the overhead light in just the right way. “Looks 
almost like… crushed velvet.”
      A laugh rumbled up from Hank’s massive chest.
      “I’m told that’s what it feels like as well.” He admitted, smiling a bit.
      “Ya know,” Rogue said, looking up, “I never even thought about it. I guess 
I just assumed…”
      “That my hands were like anyone else’s’? Actually, it is an assumption I 
encourage.  Robert knows the truth but is under pain of death not to divulge the 
information.”
      “But why?” Rogue was genuinely puzzled.
      “Well, it’s silly, really.  You know the activity that is said to cause 
hair to sprout on the palms of one’s hands and also leads to blindness?” Hank 
raised one eyebrow suggestively.
      Rogue caught his meaning at once and laughed.
      “Oh yeah, I can see how tha guys would milk that one for all it’s worth, 
Sugah! I’m sure Bobby teases ya plenty about it.”
      “Unmercifully.” Hank replied with a grin.
      “But Hank,” Rogue continued slyly, “If you’ve got that “velvet touch” 
goin’ for ya, ya shouldn’t have ta indulge in that activity very often.  I 
imagine tha ladies love it! C’mon, admit it, did it drive Trish crazy or what?”
      Hank blushed a little at her open teasing which had the effect of turning 
his face a sort of purplish-violet shade.
      “Actually,” he said in a dry voice.  It annoyed Trish to no end. She 
always said she could never abide the feel of velvet. I think it… rubbed her the 
wrong way. Quite literally.”
      “What? The woman’s an idiot!” proclaimed Rogue.  “Who doesn’t like velvet? 
 It’s so soft and warm and… well, velvety.”
      “Alas, the charms of velvet were lost on Trish.” Hank replied, still using 
that careful, dry tone. “It’s certainly not the only reason we split up, but I’m 
sure it was somewhere on her grievance list.”
      It made Rogue sad to hear Hank talk this way. No wonder he’d been so 
subdued, so withdrawn since he and Trish broke up. It wasn’t just his absorption 
in the search for a legacy cure. Obviously Trish had taken a large part of his 
self esteem with her when she left.  It made Rogue angry to see her friend in 
such pain.  What did Trish know? The woman was a fool, didn’t know how lucky she 
was! If only she, Rogue, could be touched, caressed by those velvety hands; 
she’d know how to appreciated the pleasure! Rogue cast about in her mind for a 
way to restore Hank’s self esteem and she suddenly made a decision to tell him 
something she’d sworn to herself never to tell anyone…