Marie did the sanest, safest thing she could think of—she phoned a cab to take her back to the brothel. She was powerless, alone, and carrying thirty thousand dollars. There was no way in hell she was walking back. She would be back at the brothel safely within minutes, no trouble at all.
She was relieved to see the now familiar porch adorned with the lovely, painted ladies coming up fast. The cab driver parked in front of the house and Marie paid him and got out. She didn't care what the driver thought of her as she ran up the porch steps.
Once inside, she went back up to their room. Remy had given her the key before they left for the club. She was supposed to lock the door once she was inside. Remy had not given a time frame as to when he'd be back. She assumed it wouldn't be until late.
She kicked off her heels and took off her dress. A hot shower was in order. Or maybe a cold one, considering what she had just done with Remy. She questioned her motives the entire cab ride. Was it really revenge? Or was it lust? Or maybe it was just good old fashioned curiosity.
She'd turned him on, that much was obvious. What she didn't want to admit was that he turned her on. She could still feel his hands burning against her skin and his lips on her neck. She knew there was a chance her attraction to him would increase after her little game of seduction, it was only natural. It was lust.
It was hard not to get turned on when her entire goal was to turn him on. He was hard for her, and her mind was filled with 'might have beens' and 'what ifs' concerning her and Remy. What if they had just finished it off since they were both there? Could she really have fucked him in a men's washroom? They were questions she didn't want to answer.
She opted for a warm shower.
When she had finished showering, she changed into her pajamas—a pair of flannel shorts and long sleeved T. She liked wearing the long sleeves to sleep; most people would think it was a habit from her mutation. Truth was, her arms always got cold at night and with the long sleeved T she didn't have to wrap herself up in blankets. Buried under blankets inevitably made her too warm, this way she could keep her arms over the blanket. It was a silly idiosyncrasy, but it was something she had done well before her mutation when she lived in Mississippi. Even down south evenings could be chilly.
Marie crawled into the bed. There was nothing else for her to do. She had thought about snooping through the room, but ultimately decided that she really didn't want to see what Remy kept hidden here. Right now she liked him—a lot—and she didn't want to ruin the feeling.
It had been awhile since she had thought of anybody in romantic terms—scratch that, lusted after someone. Marie didn't fall in love anymore; it was an idealism she used to believe in and nothing more. After Bobby, she had been turned off of the whole 'lovely, romantic, let's hold hands and sleep together' idea of human contact.
Yes, Bobby Drake had changed her eager perceptions of physical contact greatly. She had convinced herself the whole break up would have hurt less if she'd just kept her mutation. That way, that would have been the reason he fell for Kitty and not because of some failing on Marie's part as a person. Perhaps she was jaded, or perhaps she'd just become a realist. Whatever the reason, whatever she was feeling right now concerning Remy was nothing more than lust—and it was only because she'd purposely set out to seduce him.
She was vaguely concerned exactly how their relationship would be after her daring seduction. Heat rose to her face, she'd actually grabbed his junk…several times. Judging by his jovial behaviour when she had left him, she figured he'd be cool with it. If anything, Remy understood games. He had raised the stakes and she had merely met them. She had risen to his challenge and beat him at his own game. Somehow, she suspected Remy would respect that and not pursue the matter further.
Finally putting her mind at ease, she was able to close her eyes and fall asleep.
It was around three o'clock in the morning when Remy graced her with his presence. She awoke to a loud banging on the door followed by his surly voice shouting at her to let him in. She was climbing out of bed when the door went flying open. He'd gotten sick of waiting and picked the lock.
She didn't need to be anywhere near him to sense that he was royally pissed off. She didn't know why. He'd told her to lock the door. He gave her very specific instructions to. So what the hell was his problem?
He flicked on the bedroom light without warning, and Marie closed her eyes instantly, not having time to let them adjust. When she'd slowly regained her vision, she gasped in horror when she looked up at him.
"Oh my God, Remy! What happened?" she cried in shock.
He was a mess. He was covered head to toe in dirt or, more accurately, dry wall dust. His bare arms and face were covered in a mixture of fresh and dry blood. His trench coat was blackened as if it'd been charred in a fire, and hung limply over one arm.
She was moving towards him in a panic, the closer she got the worse he looked. "OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod! Are you okay? Oh God! You've got bits of glass sticking out of your head! What happened?" Marie shrieked in borderline hysterics.
"Not much," he answered angrily. "I only got set on fire and had a building fall on me. Fucking Dukes screwed me over. Wasn't expecting the third little prick to be a double-crosser."
He was heading towards the bathroom while Marie registered what he was saying. She quickly followed him.
"Someone set you on fire?" she asked horrified. Who would even do that? Even on his worst days, Marie couldn't fathom lighting Remy on fire.
"Yeah, and to top it off, Avalanche panicked and knocked the building down around me. Dukes never should have called in a third. Stupid, fucking idiot. He's buying me a new coat."
Remy was painfully pulling his T-shirt off when Marie stopped him, pulling his arms back down.
"No! Leave that on 'til I get the glass out of you. I don't want you cutting yourself up more." She grabbed her make up bag searching for tweezers.
He waved her away impatiently. "Stop fussing! I'm fine, I don't need your—"
"SIT," she commanded, pressing him down by the shoulders onto the toilet seat. Taking charge of the situation was the only way she could stay calm.
He stopped scowling for a brief second and obeyed, wincing as he sat down for her. She gently tipped his face up by the chin and began to carefully pull the tiny shards of glass from his forehead.
"You really don't need to—ouch—do that."
"And let you do it yourself? I don't think so. You'll end up with scars."
"I'm not incompetent," he answered back hotly.
Marie gave an exasperated sigh, not in any mood to deal with his unpleasantness. "Remy, just sit and shut up."
He frowned harder.
"And stop frowning. You're making these harder to pull out by wrinkling your brow."
He sat quietly for her, only flinching a few times when she removed the longer shards. He had ten in total sticking out of various places like his head, shoulders, and forearms. He refused stitches, even though she was sure at least one of the wounds was deep enough.
Without even thinking about it, she told him to lift his arms and she swiftly tugged his shirt off, tossing it in a corner on the floor. She rummaged through the bathroom cupboards for a cloth and was thrilled to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol. She tended to his wounds efficiently with the no nonsense attitude of a nurse. She was thankful Storm had made them all take a first aid course. It seemed like a joke at the time, but now it paid off.
Remy looked worse off than he really was. He was right when he had said he was fine. All his wounds were superficial. She imagined he'd be pretty sore in the morning though. He was bruised pretty badly amongst all the cuts. He sat like a good little patient while she cleaned him up, disinfecting all the injuries.
"You should have a quick shower, and I'll see if I can find some bandages," she said to him in a matter of fact voice.
He looked as though he was going to argue with her.
She stared him down. "Just do it," she said fiercely.
She was annoyed that he showed little gratitude towards her. He was so irritatingly stubborn. She got that he was angry with how his 'job' went down, but taking it out on her wasn't going to make it better and she told him so. That made things worse. He had started to argue with her when she lost it.
"It's almost four in the morning! Take off your damn clothes and get in that shower. Now!"
He looked taken aback and did as he was told. Once he was in, she was back in the bathroom looking for bandages or gauze. Surprisingly, she found a small first aid kit in a top drawer that had everything she would need. When he turned off the shower, she handed him a towel, shoving it to him behind the curtain.
He muttered 'thank you' and stepped out from the shower. She sat him back down and bandaged him up, stepping back slightly to critique her work.
"There. Good as new." She decided finally, ignoring his sour look. "I'm going back to bed. I don't care what you do."
She left him in the bathroom and flicked off the bedroom light, snuggling back into bed. She was exhausted and would be fast asleep in minutes. She heard him rummaging through the dresser drawers as she faded off into the realm of sleep.
She bolted upright and wide awake when she felt the bed move with his weight. He was climbing into bed with her.
"What are you doing! You said you were sleeping on the floor!" she snapped at him.
"Yeah, well, I lied," he replied annoyed.
"You're not sleeping in the same bed as me!"
"Look, I'm not sleeping on the floor," he growled impatiently. "I've been crushed under building rumble, set on fire, and bossed around by Nurse Ratched. I am sore, I am crabby and I am tired. I just want to sleep in my own bed. Regardless of what you're thinking, I am not really in the mood to try anything with you. I don't care how incredibly hot for me you are."
She pursed her lips, contemplating. Remy's bad night had somewhat erased all their indiscretions at the bar. He wasn't treating her any differently than normal, other than being incredibly crabby. She finally agreed, not the least bit happy with the sleeping arrangements. He did, however, make a persuasive argument. He was injured.
"Alright, but you're switching sides with me."
"What's wrong with that side?" His voice was tense and wary.
"I don't like the mirror."
He laughed abruptly. "You're not using it right then."
Marie rolled her eyes, a gesture he couldn't see in the dark anyway. She was silently thankful his crabby mood was fading and that things were as normal as ever between them.
Rather than getting up from the bed, he crawled over her while she scooted to the other side.
Marie found it awkward lying beside him in the same bed. It was weird, almost unnatural not to be doing anything but trying to sleep. She had turned away from him on her side while he remained motionless on his back, except for a very light breathing. The night silence hung heavily over her. Try as she might, the slumber that was eager to take her earlier had vanished, leaving her to her own devices. Frustrated, she rolled onto her other side, facing him. She wondered if Remy was just as restless.
"Remy?"
"Hmmmm?" he mumbled.
"I'm glad you weren't hurt badly."
"You were worried 'bout me?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Yeah. Yeah I was," she answered seriously.
He turned his head to face her, his eyes twinkling with a warm, red glow. "Thanks, chere," he replied. He turned his head back to stare up at the ceiling, groaning slightly as he moved his arms under his head. He sighed dramatically. "I suppose if you want to have your way with me, you can. You'll have to do all the work though, but I'll make it up to you later, I swear."
"Ugh!" she cried in disgust and abruptly turned away from him. Glad he couldn't see her trying not to laugh.
"Come on, chere! Take one for the team," he said between snickers.
"Good night, Remy."
"The offer might not stand tomorrow…"
"Good night, Remy."
She was positive he could hear the smile in her voice.
"Not so awkward anymore is it, ma petite?"
She smiled.
"No."
"Good night, chere."
"Good night, Remy."
He had the oddest way of making her feel comfortable, but it worked. He really was the most fascinating man and at times the sweetest.
She was smiling when she fell asleep.