By the time Rogue and Remy arrived in town, the grey clouds were drizzling almost lazily. The sun was hid behind the voluminous clouds, its light still illuminating the covered town. After they situated their horses in a stable for the night, the sky had broken open, spilling sheets of water. Following a short…debate on the merits of staying in the stables or going to the hotel up the road, Remy proceeded to push Rogue out and tell her to run for it.

The Mahoney Place was merely a standard of hotels in that day. Nothing more than someone's own home, usually large and well-kept, turned into a business.

A young man with light brown hair stood behind a long desk, dressed in an impeccable suit. He leaned over a ledger, his pen lightly scratching across the page. Rich rugs were placed on oak inlaid floors. A fire crackled in the fire place along the opposite wall. The quiet inside was broken by the tinkling of china and the dinner conversation of several people in the dining hall to the left of the elegant staircase.

Outside, the rain thundered on the roof of the house, muffling everything. But if one had been in the sitting room at the foremost front of the hotel, one would have clearly heard the sound of leather hitting flesh and a rather undignified yelp.

"No good Swamp Rat," Rogue muttered as she stalked past him and up the porch.

Water dripped from her hair into her eyes, and she slicked her bangs out of her face. He didn't reply, only pouted at her, still rubbing the sore spot on his face. He'd have to watch her from now on. That femme hit hard. A profile of her figure was highlighted by the light pouring the window behind her. He tilted his head as he considered that oh, yes; he'd have to watch her very closely indeed. She pointedly ignored him as she made an attempt to wring excess water from her clothes before going in.

She happed to glance at Remy while she was removing her cloak, that she swore gained at least ten pounds, to see him still sulking.

"Oh, knock it off!" she rolled her eyes.

"You're a mean lady," he accused.

"Me? You are the one who pushed me in the rain in the first place! You're lucky all I did was slap ya!" she cried.

Now fully irritated with Remy's attitude and her never-ending supply of liquid, Rogue threw up her hands in frustration. Remy watched her, just a bit (very)…taken with her temper and the way her fury brought a bit of color to her cheeks, and half-way expected her to kick the door in. He was surprised when Rogue gave a pointed look to him and the door.

Well?

His brows shot up near to his hairline as he stared at her.

Are you serious right now?

She, in turn, arched a brow, pursed her lips, and crossed her arms.

What do you think?

Remy held his hand up in surrender, much as one can with saddlebags over his shoulder and another in hand. He moved to the door and opened, bowing shortly and gesturing her in grandly. Rogue raised her head, almost subconsciously, and glided inside much the same way a grand dame enters a ballroom. Equally as soaked as she, Remy strolled in after her, looking for all the world as if he owned it. Despite his soggy appearance, he was pulling off the impression very well.

The man behind the desk looked up to behold the oddest sight he'd seen – he quickly checked the grandfather clock in front of him – in about two hours. The red-eyed man walked up a few steps behind her and motioned with his head for him to address the woman before dropping three leather bags on the floor. He pushed the ledger aside, filled with more drawings than actual work, and smiled his most charming smile at the drenched woman that came to stand in front of him.

"Welcome to the Mahoney Place, miss. What can I do for you two?"

She smiled, a bit sharp compared to his, and said,

"Is this not a hotel," she glanced at his name plate, "Mr. Drake?"

"Indeed it is, miss. The finest in town."

"Then would it not stand to reason that you could assume that everyone who comes through the door wants a room?"

Oh, he could see already…she was going to be difficult.

"Of course," he replied, his own smile tight.

Normally, she'd behave herself better. However, she was extremely irritated. She was cold, wet, and hungry. She wanted to go back to sleep, she wanted to keep moving, and take a bath. Not in that order. She wanted Remy to call her beautiful again and - …that is, she, erm…All right, yes, that is actually what she wanted.

Mr. Bobby Drake, as his plate read, checked over a different ledger than the one he had before. He picked up a pen and lightly trailed it down the list, humming under his breath.

"I'm sorry, but we're out of rooms," he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

"What," Rogue said flatly.

Bobby shrugged helplessly and almost smug.

"Now hold on a moment," Remy spoke up for the first time, using a distinctly Northern accent. "What about that seventh slot there from the top?" he asked.

"That one is reserved, sir," he replied, not even looking down.

"I see. But they're not due for another two days. Certainly, you could let me and my wife," he put his arm around her waist at that. She momentarily stopped glaring at Bobby long enough to glare at him, "stay there until the storm passes. No doubt we'll be gone by morning," he assured.

"I don't think that –", Remy flicked his wrist again, and three gold coins appeared between each finger. Bobby didn't even blink. – "That will be a problem at all!" he finished, now smiling brightly.

Faster than the coins appeared, they disappeared in Bobby's pocket as he twirled around to pluck a key from the little cubby they were kept in. Remy shot Rogue a smirk, as if to say,

'In your face!'

She rolled her grey eyes, clearly indicating she wasn't impressed…much.

Bobby turned the ledger for Remy to sign around for him and set the pen and an inkwell towards him, just barely restraining himself from rubbing his hands together. Remy plucked up the quill pen and quickly scrawled a name across the sheet. A name that Rogue noticed was not his.

"Well, Mr. –" Bobby glanced down at the name, "Lenoir, here is your key, and if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your room."

"That won't be necessary," he said as Rogue took the key. "I've been here before. If you would, have dinner sent to our room."

"Of course. Anything you would especially like?"

"Just tell the head chef Lenoir is here. He'll know."

"Yes, sir. Have a good evening."

"The same to you."

And with that, the couple strolled down the hall on the right of the stairs. Before they were halfway up, Bobby had already spent the money in his mind. His girlfriend, Jubilee, had been 'hinting' lately about a certain friend of theirs who'd gotten engaged. He was grinning like an idiot just thinking about it.

First things first though: get Mr. 'Lenoir's –if that was his real name then his was Ichabod Eisenhower – and his lovely wife dinner. Then he'd have Duncan clean up that little stream of water.


Remy unlocked the door, opening it for her and flicking on the light switch. The room was large, located in the center of the house. It had eleven foot ceilings and a mahogany inlay floor with a deep burgundy and gold rug. The privacy was enhanced by thick burgundy drapes which framed the queen size mahogany sleigh bed providing a sense of tranquility and luxury. An inviting fireplace with an ivory colored mantle and tiles was on one side. Next to it stood a small, wooden vanity desk with a mirror and gas lamp. An oak armoire and dresser were on the opposite wall of the fireplace. A door next to that led into a bathroom. Rogue only saw one problem.

She turned to Remy as he shut the door and dropped the bags near it.

"There's only one bed."

"You're welcome, Rogue. I was only glad to provide you with a dry place to stay, a warm bed, nice bath, and hot food," he said with a grin, making his way over to the cold fireplace.

A card appeared in his hand and started glowing pink. He slipped it in between the logs. With a sharp pop, the beginnings of fire came to life.

"Well, yeah, thanks," she conceded, "but where are you going to sleep?"

Remy paused in tending to the fire to give her a blank look.

"In the bed," he replied.

"But I'm –"

Oh, don't worry, chere," he smirked at her, "I don't mind a' 'tal if you sleep there too, but I ain't about to take the floor. My chivalry just doesn't extend that far."

"I thought you were a gentleman."

"I never said that; you assumed."

Remy stood and shrugged out of his coat, dragging a chair near the fire with his foot and draping it across it. He wore a simple black shirt under it, the already tight-fitting material clinging more due to the water.

"Remy, I can't sleep in the bed with you. I could accidentally touch you while we're asleep."

"Tragic," he commented, yawning lihgtly.

"Uh, yeah, that's the point! I could kill you, you know?"

He rolled his eyes, and one hand straying to his shirt's hem.

"Are you gonna bathe first or me?" he asked, already done with the conversation in his mind.

He was not sleeping on the floor, and he was going to let Rogue sleep there. All he had to do was simply keep covered, stay on his side, and everyone'd be happy. He simply just did not feel like interrupting Rogue at the moment since she still seemed a bit irritated, and he didn't want to get slapped again.

"If I kept contact long enough," she continued, and Remy shrugged," you wouldn't wake up. All it'd take is-"

Rogue stopped mid-sentence and blatantly stared. She honestly could not stop herself. As she'd been talking, Remy had casually taken off his shirt and tossed it aside. He pulled a leather strip out his hair that had been keeping the reddish-brown hair, chin length hair in a low pony tail. Water ran down from the strands and dropped onto his broad shoulders. It flowed off his shoulders, down his muscled chest to his abs. She could actually count them.

Remy glanced over at her openly gaping at him, a light blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks and a sort of glazed look in her eyes. He was more than a little amused and endeared by her reaction. He was aware that he was good-looking. Numerous women confirmed that, even when he was a boy. But that Rogue thought so was different because…well, Rogue was different. There was something special about her. He knew that from the moment he met her.

The girl tilted her head, as if to get a better look, when he realized what it was. She was innocent. Her powers discouraged men from trying to have a relationship with her. Because of that, she didn't play games. Not once, had she tried to flirt with him or entice him – not that he'd have minded. Rogue didn't play games with him, and he found that…attractive in a way.

Still, they couldn't very well spend the whole night like this.

"Rogue," he called.

She didn't blink.

"Roguey," he brought his hand up and snapped his fingers in her face.

She blinked, but nothing else. Remy crossed one arm across his belly and cupped his chin with his other hand, smothering a laugh. Rogue frowned and opened her mouth to object until she met his gaze, ruby eyes sparkling with mirth.

She could feel the heat burning her cheeks at this point and could not remember a time in her life when she'd blushed so much because of anyone.

"Um… I was – you'd…ngh," she groaned, spun on her heel, and retreated to the bathroom.

"Rogue, Rogue, Rogue," he shook his head, chuckling at the girl's expense.

She was just too cute when she was flustered.


A/N: This was going to be over 4000 words and one chapter, but I decided to half it.

Mary Marhoney's (The Mahoney Place) is actually a restaurant in Biloxi, Mississippi down near the beach. It used to be a slave house or something like that. Expensive food. The hotel is a bed and breakfast in New Orleans, and I had to go online to check for that.

Real fairy tales are far too…what's the word I'm looking for? Dry, maybe? Outlined. The same. But most stories are. Every plot's been done, really.

I started back school on the 6th. My teachers are sick, sadistic people. Because of them, I may very well be absent for about 5 months. Not overly likely though.