Disclaimer: "To me, bullshit is like breathing."
(An: It wasn't technically Sunday, and I'm bored. So you get another chapter. This whole one is based on a real experience. The museum exhibits/"smooth" escape bits, anyway. The romantic awkwardness is all fiction.)
Criminal Record (Like a Slap in the Face)
Five minutes later, and they were all inside the museum. "Syngenella" was still not in a good mood with Remy, but after the fifth time Piotr had told them to shut up, they had listened. Piotr himself was in a rapturous mood, trailing through the galleries with Kitty. He looked, Wanda thought, much like John had at the lighter store. But this was probably his idea of heaven; the museum was featuring art from different countries, grouped into separate galleries. Currently, they were wandering through the Greek room.
Rogue, however, couldn't keep her mind on the paintings; she was feeling too out of place. Her eyes kept wandering to Kitty and Piotr's clasped hands, or to the comfortable arm John had around Wanda. And then, inevitably, her traitorous gaze would turn to Remy. She was certain she had caught him staring at her, as well, and that only made it worse. She wanted to ask Remy if it was possible to be a sixth wheel, but she knew what his reply would be, and she was pretty sure that violence would get her "escorted" from the building.
When they walked out of the Greek room and into the main hallway, Remy murmured, "Wanna ditch 'em?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Rogue hissed. "They're both sweet couples and all, but I think I'm gonna throw up."
Remy nodded, looking at her oddly. When she raised an eyebrow, he shook his head, looking amused, and pointed at a closed door a bit down the way. It was in the opposite direction from where the other four were headed, but Rogue doubted they'd notice Remy and Rogue if they performed a striptease to the theme from the Godfather series. And anyway, when Rogue saw the sign above it she instantly wanted to go in. It was labeled "Southern USA". The "Northern USA" exhibit was right next to it, but who cared about that? "Why is the door shut, though?" Rogue asked.
"Who cares?" Remy replied as they started for it.
"Well, none of the other doors are shut…"
"If it's locked, no harm no foul. If it ain't…" Remy shrugged. "Maybe they're purists."
Rogue snorted and gestured for Remy to try the door. It opened easily, and Remy replied with a gesture of his own, as if to say, "You see?" Rogue shrugged, conceding the point, and they walked inside.
"…Is this a joke?" Remy asked, after a moment. They were in a bare, white room. It looked and smelled like it had just been repainted.
"Maybe it's modern art…?" Rogue suggested. "Come on, let's see if there's anything in the next room."
But the adjacent room was just the same. "Huh. I guess the doors were closed 'cause they haven't actually set up this part of the gallery yet…"
"Why was the door unlocked, then?"
Rogue shrugged. "I don't see anything worth stealing, do you?"
"Good point."
Rogue looked around the room, then started for the next one. She paused at the door. "Hey, there's some paintings in this one," she commented, pointing inside. "I don't think they're all hung up yet, though."
She started into the room, ignoring Remy's, "Chere, maybe that ain't-" She took two steps inside and set off an alarm, a loud, angry beep. "A good idea," Remy muttered, facepalming.
"Come on, swamp rat, run!" She dashed for the back exit, grabbing his hand. The two of them sprinted through another empty room and through another door, finding themselves in a completely different part of the museum.
Nobody seemed to have noticed their hasty entrance (or the alarm, which was still going in the background), so Remy scooted over by a painting and dropped Rogue's hand in favor of an arm around her waist. "Act natural," he whispered in her ear.
"Then let go of me, or I'm naturally going to have to kill you," Rogue snapped back.
"I ain't the one who started it," Remy answered, in that flirty whisper Rogue knew he used just to annoy her.
Rogue hit him, making sure it was discreet. She stepped out of reach. "That was because I could live without your criminal record, swamp rat."
"For what? All we did was go in there. We didn't touch anything."
"Yeah, but neither of us are exactly popular with the police. We're X-men, remember? And the prof will probably leave us in there for a coupla months just to teach us to stay on the right side of the law."
Remy chuckled softly. "Talk about overreacting… chere, this is one of those things we're going to look back on and laugh at later on."
"Yeah. From our cells."
Remy rolled his eyes and gave up on reasoning with her. "So where are we now?"
Rogue shrugged. "I dunno about you, but I was thinking more about booking than where I was going…" She glanced around. "Looks like the Chinese room. Come on, let's go find the others."
"Hey, I was enjoying being alone with you, chere," Remy replied, although he followed willingly enough.
Rogue looked at him over her shoulder. "Why?"
Remy snorted. "Ain't it obvious?"
"All I do is insult you."
"So does everyone else. You at least manage to insult me and be unbelievably gorgeous at the same time."
"Don't you have anything better to do than hit on me?"
"…No, not really."
Rogue sighed as they walked back into the main hallway. "I don't know why I put up with you, swamp rat, I really don't."
"All of our other friends activate your gag reflex. It's the 'down with love' thing you've got."
"Whoever said I was down on love?" Rogue demanded, stopping short and whirling to look him in the face.
Remy crossed his arms. For once, he wasn't smirking; rather, he had a small, amused smile. "It's kinda obvious, Rogue. You get disgusted at the slightest bit of sap in a movie, and you can't stand watching couples interact."
Rogue glared at him. "Ever considered that seeing what I can't have is like a slap in the face?"
Remy shrugged. "Yeah, but you get mad even if it's a situation where they're not touching, like whenever Scott calls Jean at college and finishes off with 'love you', or whenever Kurt talks to Amanda."
This only served to intensify Rogue's passion; if the fire in her eyes had been real, the museum would have been cinders. "Again, it's like a slap in the face. I can't have that, Remy, and I probably won't ever be able to."
"Who says you can't have a relationship?" Remy replied. He moved closer, so their noses were almost touching. "Sure, you can't do some of the fun stuff, but Jean and Scott seem to do just fine without that, don't you think?"
Under different circumstances, the jibe at Jean and Scott's (nonexistant) sex life would have made Rogue laugh, but now it only made her uncomfortable, since, as much as she wanted to deny it, Remy had a point. "So?"
Remy made a disgusted noise, stepping back. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Rogue replied, mostly for an answer than out of true perplexion. She knew where the conversation was headed, and she hated it. An underlying attraction had always been one of the unspoken things in their friendship (Remy's flirting didn't count; Rogue knew he only pulled that crap to piss her off), and even thinking about acting on it… well, the worst part was that it really didn't seem like such a bad deal.
Remy rolled his eyes. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, chere. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Rogue looked him over for a moment, then said,"You tell me what you were so upset about on the roof, and I'll tell you what I think about dating you."
"Guess I'll have to wait to find out, then," Remy shrugged. Before Rogue could say anything, he said, "Hey, there's Syngenella."
Rogue sighed and walked over.
(Bwahah. I bet you thought this chapter was about Remy's past. Shot down! I really hadn't intended this story to have so much Romy… I like the pairing, I'm just suspicious of it in this story. Next Time: Late Night Diners!)