Chapter 2 - Futile
The party was still going in full swing – although now several more people were drunk and behaving more foolishly it seemed. He glanced towards the drinks table noting Rogue pouring herself a drink; her expression was very pensive. She didn't seem as calm and accepting as she had only fifteen minutes before.
He moved over to her, stepping behind her and gently placing his hands on her hips; he gently blew a soft breath upon her ear and noted the shiver she made in response.
"Hi," she said softly, she glanced over her shoulder at him.
"Y'know, you are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight," he slid his right arm all the way around her to pull her closer to him, her shoulder pressed into his wound and although it was agony, he didn't care. "You should be dancing with me."
"When was the last time we danced?" Rogue asked absently, bringing her glass to her lips and taking a small sip.
Remy breathed in the smell of her perfume, "far too long to remember," he took the glass from her with his other hand and placed it down upon the drinks table, "c'mon."
She didn't fight him; as he led her to the dance floor, he thought of Jean and Scott's engagement party at the Bayville Hotel before he'd left; Rogue hadn't danced with him then...in fact, she'd been distant with him.
As she wrapped her arms carefully around his neck, and he around her waist, they swayed to the music, tinkling pianos and soft saxophone carried them off into forgetting the rest of the room was around them. Her head was soon resting upon his shoulder and he was swaying with his eyes closed, trying to imagine their future together once he'd pulled himself together.
The next hour seemed to melt away like the ice sculpture on the drinks table. People left in twos and threes, and soon, the mansion's ballroom was made up of a few guests who were staying over, and the hosts. It was only two in the morning by the time it was all over; and exhaustion was already settling in.
Ororo and Hank were already beginning to clean up the aftermath of the party – plastic cups and streamers, party favors and pieces of food.
"I should go help," said Rogue, breaking away from Remy finally.
"I'll help too," Remy offered.
"No," Rogue shook her head, she touched his chest tentatively, right where his wound was; he flinched. "You're sore," she pointed out. "You should go get some sleep – you look exhausted."
He was exhausted – and not in the mood for an argument about it either. "Okay," he agreed.
"Listen..." said Rogue softly, she fixed the collar of his shirt, she didn't meet his eyes, "Sam got drunk and they put him up in my room..." she toyed with the top button of his shirt, "so...can I...?"
"Crash in my room? Yeah. I can't guarantee I'll be awake when you make it up there...but..."
"It's fine," Rogue kissed the fingertips of her satin gloves and gently touched his lips, "go sleep."
He kissed her gloved fingertips, then left her to go up to his room; exhaustion settling into his shoulders and aching his back as he climbed the stairs. He made a stop at Jessie's room first, to check on her; he crept in quietly and examined her in the light spilling in from the hallway. She was sound asleep, her tiny arm draped over a stuffed toy. He adjusted her blankets and then left the room; deliberately leaving her door open just a little so he would be sure to hear her if she should have another nightmare tonight.
His room was slightly cold when he entered; the heating in the mansion being old and very unreliable. He shivered as he undressed; he pulled a sweatshirt and jogging pants on to wear to bed in preparation not only for the cold night ahead, but for Rogue to spend the night beside him. He didn't want any accidents – especially when she became unhappy with the concept of being shocked electrically by his new powers.
Slipping under the covers, he settled against the pillows and closed his eyes. He was unsure how long he'd drifted off for when he felt the other side of the bed shifting under Rogue's weight as she climbed into bed with him, and he was only just vaguely aware of it.
"Time 's it?" he asked tiredly.
"Four," Rogue whispered quietly, "go back to sleep."
He rolled over, although in the darkness he could just barely make out her features. "I'm sorry about tonight."
"You don't need to apologise," Rogue decided, "you're right, my timing was stupid and your answer was the right one. The responsible one. I'm not even mad."
"Good," he smiled a little and bridged the gap between them by sliding closer, he draped his arm over her.
She moved into him, "you're so warm."
"Not warm enough," he breathed.
"We could fix that you know," she softly murmured, he felt her hand upon his stomach.
He bit the inside of his cheek, "I..." he paused, her hand shifted lower, just below his navel and he shifted away suddenly from her. "No! We had a deal."
She sat up, "What the--?"
"We work on your powers and mine...figure a way to touch without it bein' over clothes, then we'll figure out the physical stuff, chere. Not until."
Rogue ran her fingers through her hair frustratedly, she shook her head, "I don't get this. How can you be so...so abstinent?! You're Remy LeBeau! You always wanted sex...you were a sex addict."
He switched the lamp on and let his back rest against the cold headboard. "This isn't about who I was. It's about who I want to be. And if I wanted pleasure by now, I would have found a way..." he folded his arms. "We're so over this crap, chere."
"You might be," Rogue looked away from him.
He glanced over to her, "what?"
"You might be over it. I'm not. You've had all that stuff in your life for years, Remy. I haven't. What if I never learn to control my powers..."
"You will...or I will...whatever I have..." he looked at his hands, "I feel like it's the answer. But we need time. I need time."
Rogue sighed and rolled over to lie down, her back facing him, "fine."
"Oh, come on. Don't be like that..." he groaned.
She said nothing, just remained still, back turned to him.
He moved closer, to lie beside her, "I know there's a lot we could do," he murmured softly to her ear, "but there's nothing romantic about it...not like it could be."
She shifted away from him, "don't."
"Fine..." he sighed, "I give up," he rolled over so that their backs were facing, he closed his eyes and tried to blank his mind and go to sleep; however, it was futile.
