Author's Note: First & foremost, let me say that I am terribly sorry about the wait between updates. Really, I feel horrible. I'm currently writing another OreO fic and I'm planning/plotting/outlining another lengthy AU (which I'm mega excited about) plus work, school, & on top of all that—I'm moving! (wipes imaginary sweat from brow) I also apologize for not replying to reviews sooner. I can't thank you enough for your interest & patience. Over a month is inexcusable, & again I'm very sorry. Thank you again to everyone who has added me to their alert list & favorite author's list, etc. I wish I could thank everyone in person =)

So . . . as a token of my gratitude, and in a show of penance, I've decided to update with two chapters to make up for the lost time. I hope they're both well received. Oh & thanks to Brazos for your kind Labor Day wishes, I hope you enjoyed yours as well :D

And so, here we go . . .

- 25 -

"Mrs. Dania Christiano continues to be doing incredibly well. Her tremendous strides towards a healthy self-image, free from her Dysmorphophobia, have been wonderfully encouraging, and as of our last meeting, she has not sought a cosmetic consultation in a little over a month. Markedly, her relationship with her husband has shown improvement as well. I believe his steadfast encouragement and constant nurturing through her ordeal with the disorder has finally taken effect. The dynamic between . . . "

The previously recorded patient log droned on in the background with Ororo half listening to it. Her attention was divided between the uncompleted document on her laptop screen and the recording she was listening over one last time before giving it to Kathryn to transcribe. Her nose wrinkled as a frown marred her soft features as she reviewed several documents within the teetering stack of manila folders that covered her desk; thumbing through the documents with rapid pace.

Her quaint condo was virtually silent. The only noises being heard were the swish of papers as she licked her thumb and leafed through them, and the quiet humming of the central air-conditioning unit. The temperature had been uncomfortably high earlier that day, a day that would have been perfect for a cool, refreshing swim. A delicate smile crossed Ororo's face inadvertently as she casually reminisced about her afternoon spent with Remy by the tucked away lake he had taken her to. It really had been lovely, and the wonderful natural surrounding he'd afforded had truly been memorable.

Apparently, not to be outdone by the air-conditioning unit, her empty stomach growled loudly, angry at haven been ignored for at least several hours now. She'd ordered a pizza, but was told the wait would be forty-five minutes at least—forty-five minutes obviously being too late for her rumbling stomach. Ororo rubbed it distractedly, and continued pecking away at the keys on her laptop. She was absently chewing on an ink pen when her door buzzed. The pizza guy.

"Come in. It is open!" she called out, her eyes failed to even drift from the plasma screen of her laptop for a moment as she yelled out the invitation. She patiently waited for the delivery guy to make his way to the small office right across from the living area, listening for the tread of his feet on the floor. She heard none.

He must be lost.

"In the office!" she yelled. She reluctantly raised her and looked at the entrance where the door was already propped open in anticipation of him. Her eyes waited at the entrance. She sniffed the air. No smell of pizza, though. Only . . . Cloves? Her heart began to race just as he appeared in the frame of her door. He was handsome personified with a sly grin on his face as he leaned lazily on the doorpost, dark hair loose and spilling down around his shoulders.

"S' nice place y' got. Not safe t' jus' let any ol' body in y' house, ma chère. E'vn if dis do be a nice neighbo'hood," he grinned.

Ororo's fingers paused on the keyboard mid-strike, her mouth falling open; a classic look of astonishment appeared on her face as her mind came to grips with his abrupt and unexpected presence in her apartment. The scoundrel.

"How . . . did you get in? I mean . . . past … Did Mr. Laborteaux let you in? The doorman in the lobby?" she asked with surprised disbelief. Her breathing was irregular and she watched him watch her with haunting eyes. The familiarly uncharacteristic rush she felt whenever he shared her company returned with tremendous force and she tried her best not to display how happy she was that he was suddenly with her—albeit unexpectedly. Still, she was pleased and excited he was there.

Remy's smile spread, "Dis Cajun got many tricks up his sleeves, chérie," he responded cryptically. His eyes twinkled with mirth and something else she could not describe as he watched her behind her desk, the large stack of files that teetered precariously nearly hiding her. Ororo sat lotus style in her plush desk chair, casually dressed in plain white yoga pants and a small white wife beater; lengthy white hair pulled back in a bouffant/ponytail, her toes twiddling in her black and white Nike ankle socks. He watched her with distinctly appreciative eyes.

"What are you doing here, Remy?" she asked softly, turning in her chair to face him. She still could not compute the fact that he was standing in front of her, in her home. Remy sauntered towards her slowly, full of his usual grace and leisure. Ororo's heart beat faster with every light step he took towards her as she watched him come around her desk. He bent down and kissed her lightly on her partly opened lips.

"Remy missed y', girl. T'ought he'd come an' see his petite, non?" He stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers. Her eyelids fluttered against her will.

"O - oh," she responded dumbly.

His sharp eyes flashed over to her desk, the mountainous pile of papers and folders visually intimidating and he wasn't even the one that had to go through them all.

"Uh," he glanced at the stack again, "I t'ought dis was yo' weekend off, 'Ro?"

"It is."

Her eyes followed his. "Don' look like it t' Remy."

"Oh," she said when she saw where his eyes had fell, "Well, I have a lot of work to complete," she reasoned, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Huh - uh. None doin'," he commanded with a shake of his head, "C'mere," he beckoned, grabbing her hand and pulling her up out of her chair. She stood and stretched, her lengthy legs cramped from seating for several hours in the chair. Her pants rested low on her hips and when she stretched her long svelte body, the cotton shirt rode up over her navel. Remy smiled at her. Watching her with seeking eyes, Remy marveled at how even though she was casually dressed, there was no absolutely no disguising how unbelievably gorgeous she was.

"Wha' did Remy tell y' 'bout dis hair, belle?" he reprimanded, tsk-ing disapprovingly at her errant disobedience. He lifted the end of her ponytail up to her line of vision to further amplify his point. She followed the trail of his hands as he almost reverently began handling her abundant white tresses.

"I tol' y' how I like - non, how I wan' dis hair out," he mock-chastised, a heart-melting wink following to further add to his charm. Ororo grinned up at him, a tender curve of her lips as she watched him freeing her hair, much like he did by the lake that afternoon. He twirled a strand around a single dexterous finger, "Magnifique," he complimented with a wry smile.

"Satisfied?" she asked sarcastically, her hands sassily weighing on her each of her curving hips.

". . . Oui, bu' dey'll be much mo' satisfaction t' come," he declared with an air of promise. A sure, resolute promise. His words made Ororo shiver unintentionally as Remy took her hand once more and led her out the small home office to the direction of her kitchen.

"Huh?" she exclaimed when they'd reached her kitchen, a smile tugging at her lips, his hand warm within her own. Her eyes bulged. Loaded on her glass table kitchen were grocery bags filled with junk food: chips, soda, popcorn, snack cakes, and various bags of candy. Beside of them were a box of colorfully frosted donuts and various jars of dip and salsa.

Ororo laughed, her hand covering her mouth in incredulity. "What's all this?" she giggled, eyes wide.

"No mo' work t'day. We havin' an impromptu movie night, chère," he declared. His face shown with pride and satisfaction.

"We are?"

"Oui. No mo' laptop . . . but if y' wan', Remy's lap is always open fo' workin' on, chère" he drawled. He winked salaciously at her. Ororo blushed, coughing away her embarrassment at his sly innuendo.

"This . . . is nice Remy, really nice, but I have to- -"

"Non," he cut in. A firm shake of his head scattering his auburn hair across his face. "Food. Movies," he announced. His tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

Ororo regarded him in amazement. His dark denim jeans were snug and his black t-shirt fit just as snugly across his hard chest. His contacts were in though, disappointingly. Ororo had gotten her orders, she watched as he, on his own accord, began opening up various cabinets in search for her large bowls and plastic ware.

The doorbell sounded again and her home phone rang almost simultaneously, interfering with her ability to watch the charming gentleman as he made himself at home in her kitchen.

She headed towards the door, "The machine will pick it up, I think my pizza has finally arrived," she said. She stopped suddenly, remembering she had to get the money. Ororo ran hurriedly back in the living room to grab her wallet and then ran back to the door.

"Alright, 'Ro."

Remy continued his work of finding bowls and spoons, putting the popcorn into her microwave above the counter. He turned around and began picking up the grocery bags to discard when he heard the voicemail:

"Ororo, this is Nathan. This is like, my third time calling your house. I - uh, I don't have your cell phone number. Um - I called because I wondering if you wanted get together this afternoon. I - uh, just figured it would be nice, you know? No pressure. If you can't that's fine, I just thought I would ask. Maybe you'd want to talk or something. Anyways, uh - please give me a call back. Let me know, okay? Bye."

Remy stilled while listening to the message, his ire rising just a little.

Nathan?

"I think the popcorn is about ready, Remy," Ororo said as she came though the kitchen, steaming pizza in hand, "Mmm, that is definitely Mr. Redenbacher," she sniffed approvingly. "I guess we will have pizza to go along with the rest of our very nutritious meal, eh Remy?" she winked playfully. She sat the pizza down on the table, turning to around to face him. Her white brows immediately knitted in concern.

"What's wrong?" she inquired at the blank look on his face. Hs head was turned towards the direction of the living room where he looked on fixedly.

". . . Who is, Nathan?" he asked out the blue. Ororo frowned slightly, and thoughtfully repeated the name to herself, "Nathan? Oh!" she said suddenly, "Nathan. Dr. Dayspring. He is a colleague of mine. You met him that day you walked me to my car. He stopped to speak with us, remember? And he offered me a ride home after the incident at your bar. I work together with him and Dr. McCoy," she answered, taking two frosted cups out of her refrigerator. "Why do you ask?"

". . . De man jus' called. He lef' a message."

"Oh. Was it important?" she asked, stopping the microwave before it could beep and pullingt the hot bag of popcorn. The smell of fresh pizza and popcorn caused her stomach to rumble again, louder than before.

"He wan'ed y' t' go out wit' him dis evenin'."

Ororo poured the popcorn into a bowl and carried several items into the living room.

"Oh. That is all? Well, I'll call him back in a couple of minutes then."

"He's called t'ree times already," Remy expounded.

"Gee. I guess I should check my house messages more often. I only really pay attention to my cell anymore," she explained, coming back into the kitchen for more things to take in to the living room.

"If ya'll jus' colleagues how come he callin' t' ask y' out?" Remy asked with suspicion, his eyes narrowing with mild skepticism.

"Not to ask me out, Remy. Not that way. And well, ever since the thing with Jonathan he has been very nice about trying to be a friend to me. He tries to offer me opportunities to talk and discuss things, since I really do not have anyone here to talk to besides Kathryn. I suppose he feels he is being helpful," she said looking at him, "He was a bit concerned about me after that whole … fiasco. Unnecessarily so, I might add."

Remy nodded slightly, apparently satisfied with her explanation and gruffly cleared his throat.

"Make sure y' call an' tell him y' got betta plans fo' dis evenin' de spendin' it wit' him," he said. He began picking up several more items to join the ones she had already moved. When Ororo was alone in the kitchen, she laughed under her breath, shaking her head. It did not take a psychiatrist to see he was mildly jealous. Funny. She wouldn't think a man as sought after as he obviously was would be the type to feel jealousy—they hadn't even officially began seeing each other yet. Especially over Dr. Dayspring. Thanks to Remy, she could hardly think of anything else but him. She chuckled again at the thought before straightening her face and bringing the remainder of the food into the room.

"Oh goodness . . . how hot is Johnny Depp? I mean, really." Ororo sighed dramatically, dreamily as the movie credits rolled on in black and white. She glanced over her shoulder to Remy and laughed at the grim look on his face. He obviously did not share her feelings for him.

"Oh, dat's funny, chère?"

Ororo laughed harder, scooting closer, if possible, to the long Cajun who was nestled securely behind on her the floor, a bed of plush pillows walled around them adding extra comfort. He had long since discarded his shoes and duster. Half-empty bowls of chips and popcorn and several other food containers sat on the glass coffee table that had been pushed to the corner of the room by Remy, so that the two could have the center of the living area, where they lay together.

"It is kind of funny, yes. The look on your face . . ." she chortled.

"Sure it is. Wha' wit' y' femmes an' Johnny Depp anyway?" Remy asked, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"What's with men and Angelina Jolie? What's with men and Megan Fox and Halle Berry?" Ororo countered, rotating so that she faced him directly, her hand propping up her head as she leaned on her elbow.

"Touché," Remy mumbled in mutual surrender.

"What I thought," Ororo teased as she rolled her eyes playfully.

Remy positioned himself over Ororo, holding up his weight with his arms positioned on either side of her. "So, y' like ol' Johnny boy betta den, Remy, chérie?" His voice was low and deep as he cooed near her ear; a shudder ran through her as his breath breezed pass the shell of her ear.

Ororo looked up at the man above her, fighting against her desire and the pleased smile that was tugging at the sides of her mouth. She swallowed and licked her lips, Remy's eyes falling sharply on the action and back up again to her watchful eyes.

"Do you like those women I named better than me?" she challenged in return, her chin raising in defiance.

Remy chuckled, shaking his head, his dark hair falling down into his face. He held her eyes with his own, impaling her to the floor with his heavy gaze, and began descending on her slowly, prolonging the sweet terror. His skilled lips found hers as he branded her with his mouth. He shoved his impatient tongue between her lips, and lapped like a man dying of thirst, his kiss effectively disabling her.

Ororo's eyes fluttered shut as she sighed in deep pleasure, his heavy body increasing in pressure upon her, the feeling of him pressed on her rapturous. When he pulled back hesitantly, Ororo's eyes were still shut, and she panted quietly with hunger and need, her plump lips reddened and flushed. She whimpered lightly against her will.

"Wha' do y' t'ink, 'Roro? Does it look like Remy wan' dem femmes mo' den he wan' y'?" he whispered near her mouth, his tone teasing.

His reply was a hungry whimper by Ororo as she crushed her lips with his hard as both of them laughed and rolled over each other; kissing through a mix of playful wrestling and amused giggles.

At the end of the nearly three hour long sci-fi flick Ororo stretched along the floor like a cat, her shirt rising high on her flat belly, pants low enough to expose her hip bones, arms stretched high above her as she sighed, contented and happy. Remy never took his eyes off her, her beauty almost unrealistic; something dreamed up. Remy bent over and kissed her exposed stomach with a thief's quickness and Ororo laughed aloud loudly, dropping back to the carpet, as his lips had effectively tickled her sensitive skin.

She curled up laughing, eyes shut as Remy watched her with tender affection. She was just so beautiful, her wild and tussled locks spread all over the floor, her blue eyes twinkling with fun and merriment. The mocha chocolate of her skin in contrast to the white carpet under her made her look like a deliciously sweet mochaccino with whipped-cream on top. She looked so lovable to him, writhing on the ground, tickled by his tender kiss.

Lovable?

"Oh, Remy . . ." she breathed, even as her giggles began subsiding, "You're so much fun," she noted, wiping a tear of laughter from her cheek.

"An' yo' adorable," he said as he threw an arm across her and hugged her to him.

"Sure . . ." Ororo chuckled.

"Y' are!" he exclaimed. Ororo leaned in and kissed his nose, her loving fingers trailing through his hair over and over, smoothing it back affectionately; both sets of eyes watching the other.

"You know . . . you make me . . ." she paused as she sought the words to describe what and how he made her feel, ". . . you make me, I - I don't know. Wonderful and happy and light and . . . a whole bunch of other good adjectives." They laughed together. Remy was beginning to find out that Ororo could be quite silly, especially when she was happy. She was all natural and startlingly beautiful.

"I get so frazzled around you—in a good way," she added, "You throw me off. I actually asked you the other day if you had a brother, if though you've told me about him numerous times during our sessions together," she smiled, "You just - you really are something, Remy. You're fantastic," she piped. She grinned at him, white teeth on display for his express pleasure. She grabbed his right hand with both of her own and placed delicate thoughtful kisses in the middle of his opened palm—to each one his finger pads, closing her eyes upon each precious moment of contact she made with her lips. When she was done, she looked up at him and smiled, pulling his hands close to her chest, where he could feel her beating heart, her soft breasts resting temptingly against his hands.

Remy swallowed hard at her tender ministrations. She touched him with such thought, such care. Her ethereal blue eyes, rimmed by long dark lashes, shone with something he only saw when she looked at him. Her touch made a warm heat flood his body and pool to his throbbing loins. Her words and touch so smooth, like soothing ointment over a blistering wound.

"Remy?" Ororo whispered.

"Chère?" he managed through his fog, his emotions making his voice sound slightly strangled.

". . . I see you," she said laughingly. He laughed and flicked her nose lightly, "I knew we shouldn' 'ave watched "Avatar"," he grinned. Oh yeah, she could be quite silly indeed.

"I can't help it!" she laughed, jumping to her feet, "I feel so happy!" she gushed, her arms outstretched. At the word 'happy' a breeze rolled into the room, lifting her unexpectedly, as she began to ascend, twirling half a foot above the ground. "Oh my goodness," she exclaimed, looking down, "Remy!"

Remy sat up, watching in awe, his dark eyes wide in wonder. She was flying. In her living room. Thick white hair dancing wildly about her, blue eyes now the color of clouds.

"Mon Dieu."

She managed a little laugh, albeit a bit fearfully. She focused her attention on landing and the breeze immediately died down simultaneously; Ororo's dainty feet were once again level with the ground and her toes sank into the plush carpet.

"Remy, did you see that? Oh my God!" she told him, her hand across her mouth in surprise.

"Chère, how y' do dat?" Remy asked, just as surprised as Ororo.

"I - I do not know," she stammered, her expression one of happy confusion, "I have never done that before."

"Dat's de first time y' 'ave done dat?"

"Mm-hmm. I mean . . . I have created small breezes before, especially when I was younger, but never that," she explained, shaking her head disbelievingly.

"My . . . the powers . . . they seem to be connected to my emotions somehow," she said thoughtfully, "Like the day at your bar when I first found out about Jonathan's infidelity. I created a thunderstorm; it - it seemed to reflect the way I felt at that time. And then when we kissed in line at the carnival," she smiled coyly, looking up to catch his sly grin, "The electricity sparks. Now this," she shrugged idly.

"So . . . because y' felt happy earlier, y' started flyin'?" he queried, head quirked to the side in question.

"I suppose," she grinned, "I guess I haven' been . . . really happy enough for that to happen or … I don't know. I don't know how it works," she added soberly.

"An' when we kissed, y' created sparks?" he drawled tauntingly.

Ororo's eyes dropped as a shy smile crossed her face. "In my defense, it was quite a kiss."

"Oui. It was," he echoed.

Remy scooted close to her and wrapped his sleek arms around her tight. Ororo held him close, her face buried against the side of his neck. She breathed him in, inhaling and exhaling the sharp scent of his clothing and skin. The man was pure masculinity and enticing desire. His strong arms coiled around her waist, his lean body pressed into her own was so blissfully satisfying, she suddenly began to fear just how strong her want, her desire for him was becoming. Never would she have imagined that first day she saw him in her office, gorgeous and perfect, that she would be in the middle of her living room being held between his strong limbs.

What she felt was so surreal, so foreign to what she consider the norm for her, but she had never felt so good as she did right now. She felt unrestrained and carefree and she wanted to laugh aloud at how incredible it was. Ororo surrendered and flowed with the feeling—with her instincts as she gently placed a light kiss to the exposed tendon at his neck. Remy inhaled a sharp breath at the feel of her soft lips on his skin. Ororo smiled in triumph at his reaction, imploring her to repeat the action, this time with a slight nip at his vanilla skin. He was so delicious to her, the taste of him, the feel of him.

She proceeded to kiss his neck again, moving to the area under his chin, where Remy titled it upwards to give her better access. She pressed her lips and nose to the skin of his neck, inhaling and nipping it at the same time.

"Mmm . . . chère . . ." he sighed raggedly.

"Yes?" she rasped. Softly, demurely, her opened mouth planted on his neck.

" . . ."

"You're wonderful, Remy," she murmured softly, her voice a low whisper.

"Ahh . . . I am?" he managed distractedly, now thoroughly under her spell.

"Yes. You are."

Boldness came to her swiftly and she bravely trailed her heated tongue leisurely up his bobbing Adam's apple. Remy hissed at the sensation of her warm tongue on his throat, a low groan rising up from his chest, heat flooding directly to his groin.

At the sound, Ororo pulled back to look him in his eyes, still hidden by the dark contacts he wore. She met his gaze unflinchingly as she spoke her heart to him, "I- -" she swallowed nervously, "- -I want you, Remy," she continued, "and I - and I want to be with you. Can - do you accept this?" she asked insecurely, worrying her full bottom lip timidly, her eyes dropping.

The few silent seconds of Remy's unresponsiveness seemed like silent hours to Ororo whose heart was thundering in her chest cavity. The fear of his rejection gnawed at her, making her curse her foolish boldness. She had to retract it, apologize for her idiocy.

"Remy . . . I'm- -"

Her reticent words were halted by Remy's plundering lips over her own. She smiled instantly into the kiss as she allowed herself the pleasure of tasting him once more. He gripped at her with a certain possessiveness, his hands spreading warmth to every part they glided over, pulling her into his lap, where her legs curled around his trim waist. She gasped when one of his eager extremities brushed over an overly sensitive breast.

"Remy . . ." she expelled when he finally released her lips, but only to speak his peace, so there'd be no confusion, no doubt.

"I wan' y', 'Roro. I wan'ed y' from de first time I saw y'. I knew. I knew I had to have you; I knew I had to make y' mine. I jus' wan'ed y' t' kno' it too an' t' be sure," he confessed, pausing before catching her up into another kiss.

"Do y' 'Ro? Do y' kno' it now?" he muttered against her lips.

". . . Yes. I . . . do now," she mumbled into their kiss. She laughed with an endearingly girlish enthusiasm against his smirking lips, "Oh, how I do now . . ."