Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.

Summary: Two bickering southerners walk into a quarantine room… How many walk out? The X-Men may never know.

Thanks for looking at this story guys and gals. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to read this story. These are going to be short snippets highlighting the various things that happen to Rogue and Remy while they are stuck together for thirty days.

"This is all your fault, Swamp Rat." Rogue, the current undefeated holder of the X-Men's most sullen team member award, growled at me for the forty-third time.

Seriously, I counted.

You'd think she would have thrown in a, 'Hey, thanks for saving me from the falling robot and all' or 'Man, if it hadn't been for you I would be a puddle of too much make-up and bitterness right now' if for nothing more than a little diversity. But no, all little miss sourpuss could yell, grumble, and roar was that this whole thing was my fault. As if I could have known there was some toxic chemical spill out in that wasteland. No, I was far too busy pulling her ass, as eye-catching as it may be, from certain death to really stop and consider where we would land.

I only joined the X-Geeks about a month ago. It wasn't anything grand or some sudden urge to join the ranks of goody-goody land. The whole move was mostly out of boredom. Bucket-head seemed at a loss for a good challenge to give his hired hands, and there was something hilarious about watching the preppier X-Men flinch in surprise when they saw me. Besides, at least here I could keep myself busy chasing a certain curvy brunette. Granted, I never imagined they'd stick said brunette and me together in a room for thirty days.

At least the scrubs they gave us to wear, after burning our contaminated clothes, left little to the imagination. Catching glances of her fit physique through the thin material almost made up for them daring to burn my coat. Then again, it was one damn amazing coat…

"Just keep your eyes in your head, Cajun." Rogue snarled out when she noticed my grin, "And stay on your side of the room!"

"You're shiverin' Chere." I leaned forward and gave her my most dashing smile, "Seems smarter to snuggle together and share a little body heat, no?"

"Cross that line." She pointed to the makeshift divider, made from the roll of masking tape she found in the only cabinet in the room, "And I promise you, that you will not make it out of this room alive."

I chuckled at her scrunched up face, forcing her fists to clench in pure frustration and her shoulders to shake ever so slightly. Too bad no one told that determined spitfire just how much I like a good challenge. Maybe thirty days in quarantine wouldn't be so bad after all…