A/N: It's not the latest chapter of "Rogue Rising" (which I swear IS partly written and contains a *juicy* Romy scene), but it's something. A peace offering, dear readers. Enjoy!
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She landed softly on the nearby damp grass that had started to accumulate nighttime dew. She padded over to the concrete, stripping clothing off as she went. She could have left them in her room but flying, even a short distance, while wearing minimal clothing left her skin prone to chafing. Odd, considering she herself was nearly indestructible. Rogue was self-conscious about her skin to the point she rarely exposed it. She liked to keep it protected.
The air had cooled off, but stickiness, left over from New York's summer humidity, hung in atmosphere. Stripped down to a simple green bikini that offset her emerald eyes, she had reached her destination: the mansion's Olympic-sized swimming pool; its placid water illuminated solely by the big, bright moon.
Gleefully, she dove in the deep end and relished the cool water enveloping her, shutting everything else out. Late night swims were the only way to enjoy the pool in peace. She was too paranoid to use the pool when others were in it. She was afraid she would bump into someone, or worse - that someone would inadvertently touch her. As gigantic as the pool was it seemed too small when it was filled with a dozen or so other bodies.
Instead, she took advantage of the recreational facility at a time when most of her teammates were sleeping. And it was peaceful. Tranquility was rarely attained when one was an X-Man.
After ten minutes of laps, Rogue swam to the middle of the pool and floated on her back – eyes closed and arms and legs out – as she enjoyed the gentle ripples rocking her back and forth. She was doing the deep breathing exercises Storm had taught her that were supposed to promote full relaxation of both mind and body when a loud splash, followed by an increased rippling of the water, punctured her meditation.
Years of training put her on alert and ready to bolt skyward until she saw a familiar figure coming to the water's surface.
"Bonsoir, chère. Fancy meeting y' here."
Of all the people, Rogue thought, it had to be him.
"What are you doin' here?" she asked, annoyed, as she treaded backward a couple inches. Remy had no sense of personal space, especially around her. It made her nervous. It also excited her if she was honest about it. But she wasn't, especially not with him.
His hand smoothed away his dripping-wet shaggy strands, giving him that suave appearance that complemented his handsome face and allowing his red-on-black eyes to look more striking than usual. "Saw y' out here and couldn't resist joining," he replied with a wink.
"Ever occur ta you that Ah'm out here right now for a reason? Maybe Ah wanna be alone."
"Chère, y' spend too much time alone as it is. At least since I've been here."
He showed up a few months ago, and he had since turned her life upside down. While he easily flirted with most of the mansion's female population, he focused special attention on her. Dates with flowers and champagne, invitations to ride with him on his motorcycle… He had even offered to detail her car.
And while she enjoyed the attention and felt an attraction to the bold Cajun, they had been in a strange holding pattern for weeks. Rogue kept people at a distance, always, and she wasn't even sure Remy was serious about his particular treatment. He liked a challenge – being the thief that he was – and seducing the untouchable girl was the ultimate thrill.
She decided to ignore his last statement and changed tactics. "Shouldn't you be with Sheila? Or was it Diana? Ah can't keep track."
He smirked. "Didn' know y' paid that much attention."
"Ah don't," she snapped, perhaps a bit too harshly. "But it's hard not ta notice that ya chase anything with a skirt."
He mimed a knife going through his heart. "Y' kill me, chèrie. Y' know it ain't like that."
"So ya don't flirt relentlessly with any woman you come in contact with," she patronized. "My mistake."
He shrugged. "Gotta keep m'self occupied 'til a certain striped-hair lady comes 'round."
She laughed, incredulously. "You're sayin' Ah make you seek out other women? Get over yourself!"
"Now don' put words in my mouth," he cautioned. "Didn't say that. I'm biding m' time until y' ready."
Her heart rate quickened. "Ready for what?"
"For us."
He said it so simply, and honestly. She stopped treading water and planted her feet on the pool's bottom. She was mad. "There is no 'us.' There's not gonna be an 'us.' Ever."
She glared at him before continuing. "You openly flirt with the other girls here, and you're tryin' ta tell me ya do it because you're interested in me? That's gotta be the most backwards seduction ever."
He chuckled. "Ain't so much a seduction tactic, as y' put it, as it's fun t' piss off dey boyfriends."
"So you try to make their boyfriends jealous?" she asked slowly, trying to understand his logic. "What is wrong with you?"
He laughed heartily this time. "Not de first time someone's asked me that."
Rogue rolled her eyes. This conversation was becoming familiar. It was always the same; he frustrated her to the point where she wanted to give up before anything was started. Of course his showing other women attention bothered her but it wasn't the real reason she kept him at a distance.
Remy LeBeau oozed sexuality. He was open about how much he enjoyed the physical side of human nature. Rogue's uncontrolled absorption mutation made it so she couldn't touch – or be touched by – another person without draining them of their energy, the mind and their power – if they were a mutant. She was a vampire who could consume the very essence of another person with a single touch.
She noticed him swimming closer.
"Uh uh, Cajun," she warned. "We're not doing this."
He was testing her as he usually did, but she wasn't in the mood. She had come here to relax and the decision was proving the opposite.
"Doin' what, Roguey? 'm enjoyin' de water," he said as he dunked himself under. She watched his dark figure coming closer and closer to her until he was in front of her.
She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to reappear.
Suddenly, he popped up, only inches away from her, water streaming down his body. "Y' gotta stop this, Rogue," he told her gently.
"No, you need ta stop." She steeled her voice and her body. She could feel blood pumping through her at a rapid pace as her anger level rose. Even through the anger, she could feel her heart beating erratically, stimulated with a type of exhilaration that only being around Remy provided. "You know Ah like ta come here at night - alone - and here ya are, invadin' my personal space, which Ah already told ya not ta do."
"You know, you say y' don' like it, yet y' always stick around. Int'restin', no?" His hand reached out to touch a white tress of her wet hair. She hated when he did this, when he tried to intimidate her into letting him in. It wasn't as if she didn't want to be close with another person but years of solitude had conditioned her to keep people away. Being close to someone, especially physically, only brought her heartache.
She fought to keep the tremble from her voice. "Bein' with me is dangerous."
"And bein' wit' me is dangerous as well," he said, continuing to finger her snow white locks. "Guess that makes us a perfect pair."
"So would that make us brave, or foolish?"
"You t'ink y' got nothin' t' offer," Remy continued, undeterred, "but y' have so much inside you. Your passion alone is hot enough t' burn a weaker man."
The placid water rippled slightly as he moved ever so close to her. "If Ah let someone in," she said, tears threatening to spill, "they die."
He shook his head slowly. "Doesn' have t' be like that."
"What do you know about it?" A single escaped and trickled down her cheek.
Seeing her upset made something in Remy's chest twinge. He wanted to reach out to her and found his restraint wearing thin. "That's jus' it, Rogue. Y' won' let me know about it."
"Ah can't," she whispered, miserably.
"Yes," he soothed, his hand traveling up to cradle the side of her head, "you can."
Even though her wet hair created a buffer between his hand and her scalp, alarm bells started ringing in her head. Close, he was too close, her mind shouted. She shot out of the water before Remy could process that she was no longer in front of him.
Remy silently cursed in French as he watched Rogue's body soar upwards. He considered his approach to her tonight tame by past comparisons. The girl was harder to crack than half the safes put together the Guild had him practicing on when he was growing up. Sighing, he swam to the side and lifted himself up onto the concrete. Reaching for his towel, he watched her land by the other end of the pool. She hastily gathered her clothes and towel, preparing to high tail it back to her room.
Towel wrapped around his waist and T-shirt on, he began his advance. "Bit dramatic, hein, Rogue?" he called.
"Extreme measures seem ta be the only method you understand," she yelled back. She had already situated her towel around her chest when he reached her. This was classic Rogue. Use something – anything – as a barrier and hope nobody would question it.
"And a direct approach might be de only way to get you t' understand me." He maintained a respectful distance to avoid spooking her and slowly removed the towel from his waist.
She eyed him warily but stayed silent as he carefully placed the wet terry cloth material around her, making sure her shoulders and arms were covered. He positioned his hands lightly but securely on her upper arms and took a deep breath. His fiery ruby eyes met her bright green ones.
"I like you, Rogue." It was a statement, and one that made her heart jump. "And not jus' because I can't touch you or because I chase skirts, as y' so eloquently put it." He grinned slightly at the jab but his eyes remained intense.
He continued. "I like y' because you're you. Like that y' know you're way 'round a motorcycle and like t' go fast on one. Like that y' don't put up wit' anyone's crap, even mine. Like that y' not afraid. Of anyt'ing, really. You're brave even when y' shouldn't be."
Rogue shrugged slightly. "Helps when you're tough ta kill."
Earnestly, he kept going. "And you have de prettiest, most vibrant smile on earth – when y' choose t' show it. I do believe, mon chérie, that you are de most passionate person I've ever met."
She blushed at his last compliment. Normally, a line like that would have been delivered as an innuendo, but this time, he was serious. And if the meaningful expression his face carried was any indication, he meant it.
He had drifted closer to her without her noticing it. "How could I not like you?" he beseeched.
Besides their wet swimsuits, the terry cloth was the only barrier between them. As much as she longed to be physically close to someone (Remy, in particular), Rogue worried that one slip, one brush of skin-to-skin contact, would ruin everything.
"Ah know what you're saying but this thing," she said, gesturing between them, "between us is impossible. It can't work."
"Nothin's impossible, Rogue." Making sure her body properly covered, he drew her to him and encircled his arms around her. Rogue felt her body tense up, not from fear, but from habit.
"It's okay," he whispered. She relaxed her muscles slightly, still not feeling entirely at ease despite savoring his closeness. "Not 'xactly perfect, but it'll do."
She rested her cheek tentatively on his chest. His heart thrummed a steady beat that lulled her into a calmer state. She allowed herself to indulge in the feeling of his arms holding her securely, and without fear. Not too many people went out of their way to purposefully touch her. And they certainly didn't look at her the way Remy did.
They stayed locked in the embrace for what seemed like mere moments when Remy broke the silence. "Not so bad, hm?"
"If that's arrogance Ah hear in your voice, Swamp Rat, Ah will kick your no-good ass back ta the bayou," she said haughtily, though she secretly agreed that it wasn't bad at all.
He smiled and tightened his hold. "'m sure y' will, chère. Wouldn' want y' any way else."