As per usual, I loved reading your reviews. I genuinely missed writing Remy, especially the chapters where he and Rogue team up against Kitty. Poor kid never sees it coming.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review!

The following does not reflect the views or opinions of Marvel or the author known as 'Kinetically Charmed'.

Entry number thirty six:

It's been a few days, and Remy doesn't show any signs of wanting to leave any time soon. He'd asked Rogue to make another trip for even more necessities, which lead me to believe that he was actually thinking about quitting "the business" and moving back into the manor full time. So when he walked into the kitchen first thing Saturday morning and announced that he was getting a tattoo, I knew for sure he was done. He's told us before that his sole reason for never getting a tattoo -aside from his debilitating fear of needles- is that as a member of the Thieves Guild, he's not allowed to have any defining marks. As if his eyes aren't defining at all.

Or his stupid accent.

Or the weird card thing.

Anyway, he limped into the kitchen where we were all enjoying breakfast after an intense Danger Room session and dropped the bomb. At least, I'm assuming he thought it would have been a bomb. Except nobody really seemed to care much.

"A tattoo." Rogue snorted, "I'll believe that when I see it."

"I've always wanted a tattoo." Bobby said with a mouthful of bacon.

"Well, I'm gunna do it." He said firmly, "And nobody's gunna try and stop me."

I glanced around the kitchen, making a mental note of how nobody was trying to stop him, before looking back at him with raised eyebrows, "Yep."

"You know, it's my body." He continued, apparently still trying to convince someone of his plan "I might be staying here for a bit but I still go by my rules. Professor X ain't gunna be no wet blanket."

Logan snorted from behind his newspaper, "Why would Chuck care? He's got one himself."

Suddenly, everyone was very interested in the topic at hand.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Amara asked with wide eyes. "Professor Xavier has a tattoo."

Logan lowered his newspaper and shrugged, "Sure. I got one too, way back when, but it didn't stick."

"It didn't stick..." Jubilee frowned.

"Healing factor." He clarified, "It's a damn shame too, it was a real nice one; Naked mermaid right here." He pointed to his left bicep.

"A naked mermaid." Bobby repeated, nearly choking on his bacon, "Seriously?!"

"It was the 70's." Logan said as an explanation before going back to his paper.

I'm definitely more curious about what Professor Xavier has. Part of me kind of wonders if he has his own name tattooed on his butt, like a Cabbage Patch doll. And I don't think I'll ever be able to shake that terrible thought from my head.

"I'll come with you." I said, mostly as a way to distract myself from that terrible train of thought, "It'll be fun."

"Yeah, it'll be a (effing) riot." Remy clipped sarcastically, prompting Logan to growl at him to watch his language. "I don't know, maybe I should stick around here and help out. I mean, I'm not a mooch, if I'm hangin' around the mansion I should pick up some slack, right?"

"Your foot is injured, Cajun." Logan sighed, looking up at him from over the top of his newspaper, "You need to relax, or you'll mess it up more than it already is. Go lay down, get a tattoo. It's relaxing."

Remy cracked his knuckles and frowned, nodding more enthusiastically than necessary, "Yeah. Yeah, definitely."

Oh yeah, super relaxing.

"Maybe I should just take it easy for a while, I can get a tattoo next week." Remy said eventually, while still nodding.

"No! Come on, don't wait or you'll chicken out. Just do it!" I said encouragingly, "You know you want to..."

"Really?" Remy gave me a flat, unamused look, "You're trying to peer pressure me right now?"

"All the cool kids are doing it." I added with an impish grin.

He rolled his eyes at me, something I'm quite familiar with, "Kitty-"

"We'll go this afternoon. I'll drive. It'll be fun." I said quickly, not giving him the chance to respond before I tossed a wave over my shoulder and leaving. This is one of my favorite moves, right up there with the ol' knock and enter. Don't give them the chance to argue, make the decision and then leave the room. After you've done that, it's much harder for them to change their minds. It takes actual work; tracking me down, listening to me complain, convincing me he's not being a whiney baby...

Manipulation 101.

Anyway, I managed to get Remy to come along with me without too much fight. I mean, this was his idea after all. I was merely tagging along, and keeping him company. However, he was clearly torn on this. I could tell by the way his leg was anxiously bobbing up and down as we sat in the waiting room, and he idly fidgeted with a deck of cards, because apparently he just holds onto those things for no apparent reason.

"Have you decided what you're gunna get?" I asked him as I browsed the wall filled with tattoo pictures, attempting to distract him from thinking about the impending pain.

"Huh?" He looked up at me absently and blinked a few times, "What?"

"What tattoo are you getting?" I moved over to him and plunked down in the seat next to him, "Tramp stamp?"

"I don't know." He said with a head shake, "That naked lady thing Logan said he got doesn't sound bad."

I knit my brow and scrunched up my nose, "What?"

"Yeah, you know. Like a pinup." He said, gesturing to his bicep.

"Remy, no. You cannot get boobs tattooed on you, unless you only want to have sex with hookers for the rest of your life."

He scowled at my dismissal and shot out a breath, "Well then what?"

"I don't know, you could always get that Michelangelo tattoo you've always wanted." I grinned.

He did not grin in return.

"Okay well, what kind of stuff do you like?" I found myself trying super duper hard not to look at his shoe, still wondering about his toe, since nobody would actually answer me regarding which toe it was. It was like a huge mystery to me.

"Boobs." He informed me, as if I didn't already know this.

"Like, motorcycles, or... cards or something." I explained, "You could get a deck of cards tattooed on your ass."

"A deck of cards." He repeated flatly.

"I don't know, one card then. Geeze, you'd think you'd have planned this whole thing out a little bit more. It was your idea after all." I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair with a frown. "Get the Ace of Spades tattooed on your ass then."

"You're an idiot."

"Hey, sticks and stones, Sir Limps-a-lot." I said with a smile. "What about the Queen of hearts?"

He actually looked like he was considering this when I frowned at him, "Don't get the Queen of hearts, Remy."

"It's not a bad idea." He admitted, with a nod, "It'd look good right here."

"Sure." I said, mostly just to humour him, "Add some flames and you'll be all set."

"Flames!" He said with far too much enthusiasm for him to have been joking. I had been joking.

"What... would that even... symbolize?! I don't-"

"Doesn't symbolize jack shit, Kitty. It's a tattoo. It'll look badass."

Nope. It'll look the opposite of that. He ignored my concern altogether, and the next thing I know he's got his shirt off, and Stu the tattoo artist was sticking on a stencil of his flaming Queen of hearts.

Yeah guys, he wanted a flaming Queen tattoo. I'll let you figure out the symbolism there.

"How does it look?" He asked me through the reflection in the mirror as he admired his soon-to-be huge mistake.

"Really stupid."

He cocked his head to the side as he continued to admire his reflection, working the muscles in his jaw and visibly trying not to have some kind of panic attack.

"You know you don't have to get a tattoo, right?" I said, deciding to help him out a little bit. "I'm sure there are other things you could do to flip your dad metaphorical bird."

His face went steely in an instant, as if I'd only hardened his resolve, and he gave the tattoo artist a single determined head nod, "Let's do this."

Remy sat down on the seat, and reclined back with an ineffective soothing breath.

Then Stu-Tattoo snapped on his gloves and Remy winced. I saw him wince. So I put my hand on his shoulder for some moral support, and because I thought maybe I had to hold him down, like when a child gets a shot, so they don't punch the doctor in the process. And then the machine started up.

It's not like it was horribly loud or anything, just a mild humming sound, no louder than anything you'd hear in a dentist office, but the sudden burst of the tattoo machine coming to life caused him to jump the eff up out of that seat as if it had suddenly caught on fire.

"Nope. (Effing) no." He breathed heavily, and raked a hand through his hair, "(Effing) shit no. This is (effing) stupid. Look at this goddamn place, it's filthy. This guy probably doesn't even wash his hands after he takes a piss." He threw his hand towards the innocent tattoo artist.

I exchanged a look with the tattoo guy and offered him a weak smile, "No offense."

"No." Remy said again as he pulled his shirt back on, as if to protect his bare abdomen from Stu-Tattoo and his gun, "I ain't doin' this. Kitty, let's go."

"You already paid, bro. No refunds." Stu said as he pulled his blue latex gloves off. "Want anything pierced instead?"

Remy went slightly pale at the mention of the word pierced and he began to shake his head vehemently. And then, I suddenly said,

"I'll get one."

Remy stopped his head shakes and his eyes settled on me, "What?"

"Well you heard the man, you already paid for it." I shrugged, "And I don't know... we're here, so why not?"

"Kitty, think about what you're doing." Remy said, imploring me as if I was making some kind of terrific life altering decision. "What would your mother say?"

He was clearly trying to pull out the big guns here, but it totally won't work, because my mom recently got a ladybug tattoo on her ankle the last time she was in Vegas. I ignored Remy and turned to Stu,

"Is that okay? If I go instead of him?"

He gave me a smile and shrugged, "Makes no difference to me, little lady. What can I do for you?"

"There was a really cute dragonfly over there..." I pointed to the wall of designs and Stu nodded in acknowledgment, apparently knowing which one I was talking about. I watched as he sketched out a picture of the dragonfly for me quickly as I informed him not to make it too big, and that I wanted it kind of wispy and whimsical looking.

Five minutes later, I'm straddling the chair Remy had just leaped out of, with the outline of a very playful and whimsical dragonfly on my lower back, off to the left, because I was very clear that I did not want a "tramp stamp".

Stu found that funny, and agreed with me.

And then it was my turn to panic. I heard the gloves going on, I heard the machine rumbling to life, and I realized that I was sitting there with my pants rolled down and pushed out of the way, so that my ass crack was on display for Stu tattoo and my best friends ex. And quite possibly anyone else who should happen to walk into the shop.

I sensed Stu getting closer, and my whole body tensed up when he said, "Ready?"

I whimpered pathetically in response, but shockingly did not leap out of the seat like Remy. And just when I thought I was going to bite through my lip, Remy sat down in front of me and gave me a nod,

"You'll be fine."

And then, it started. And I was not fine. I yelped like a wounded puppy, and then apologized for being a pansy, and then I grabbed Remy's hand and squeezed as hard as I could, while simultaneously regretting my impulse decision to get an effing tattoo.

"Okay, just don't think about it." Remy instructed, glancing up at my ass to see the progress, I'm assuming. "Think about something else."

"Like what?! Searing hot pain! Igniting my flesh with molten lava!"

"It was... the pinky." He said.

"What?!" I managed to squeak while still managing to hold my breath.

"My little toe." He clarified, "I've noticed you staring for the past three days, I figure you were dying to know. He cut it off with a pair of gardening shears."

I blinked at him, and for a moment, I actually forgot about the pain.

"This guy, he was a total maniac. Normal lookin' on the outside but he was completely (effed) up in the head. The bastard caught me red handed and got all bent outta shape about it; He decided to use me to try and cash in, get some ransom money from the guild." He worked the muscles in his jaw and gave his head a shake, "But unfortunately for him, the guild doesn't make deals. Apparently not even for their own (effing) son. So they just left me there with the psycho, with his crazy knife fetish."

He fell quiet as I continued to stare at him, ignoring the pain while I processed all this information he was suddenly spewing at me.

"It wasn't even my goddamn fault I got caught, you know." He continued angrily, "The ass hole had some way of shutting off my powers. If I'd known that I would have taken an entirely different approach. If "the Guild" had done their (effing) job properly to begin with, I wouldn't have been in that mess."

He turned away with his brow knit and let out a breath, and I could tell that in his very successful attempt to rodeo clown me from my pain, he had probably shared more than he'd intended. It was time for a subject change. I owed him that much.

"I kissed Doug."

He looked back at me with a smirk.

"It was so stupid." I groaned and rubbed a hand over my face, "I was wearing the pants."

His smirk grew into a full grin and he sat back in his chair, still allowing me to clutch the life out of his hand. "Way to go."

"The worst part is, I ran the hell out of there after it happened, and we've barely talked since. We keep finding excuses to keep from seeing one another, and everything is just so awkward now." I frowned, "I don't know what to do. This is just such a huge mess now. We have concert tickets for next weekend, which means... sharing a hotel room."

Remy let out a low whistle before chuckling shamelessly at my misery, "You gunna try to make a move, minette? That what this tattoo is for?"

"No." I said firmly, "If anything, I'm gunna tell him I can't go. I don't want to lead him on... I mean, I don't think of him that way-"

"Don't do that." Remy rolled his eyes, "You're makin' a big deal outta nothing. So you kissed, so what? We've kissed, didn't mean shit."

I tend to think that this is a vastly different situation, and my thoughts were very clearly written on my face.

"You're not as lovable as you think, he's probably more embarrassed by it than you."

"Gee thanks." I muttered with an eye roll.

"Don't cancel, just do what I do; Pretend it never happened. Hit the reset button and go back to this time last week, before you had leather brain and (effed) up. He sees you acting normal, he'll follow suit, trust me."

I furrowed my brow doubtfully, "And that works?"

"Sure," He shrugged, "Every time."

"Mmmhmm..." I pressed my lips together as I tried to focus on the conversation and ignore the ass pain, "Like the time you accidentally proposed to Rogue? It worked real well that time, didn't it?"

He frowned at the memory and rolled his eyes, "Alright, almost every time."

The hum of the tattoo machine died down suddenly and tattoo artist Stu sat back, "All done."

"That's it?" I asked, craning my neck to try and see the finished product. I sat up and admired my new tattoo in the mirror.

"Pretty sexy, Minette." Remy said approvingly.

"It looks great!" I grinned at Stu, who proceeded to cover my new tattoo up with gauze to keep it protected while the skin healed. Once he was finished giving me instructions on how to take care of my new "body art", I re-buttoned my jeans and turned to Remy with a frown,

"Listen, I kind of want to keep this a secret. For now."

"Why?"

I sighed, "I just don't want people thinking that I went out and did something impulsive and stupid just because of... leather, or breakups, or any other stupid reason."

He nodded, "Fair enough. Our dirty little secret."

He always has to make everything dirty.

"'Course, that is until you decide to show someone else." His grin widened and he winked, making it clear that he was implying I would be showing off much more than my tattoo, "You know this means that I've now kissed you AND seen you naked. So..."

"You haven't seen me naked." I said with an eye roll, making it clear that his attempts at pushing my buttons weren't working.

"I've seen your ass."

"No, you saw the side of my ass."

"An ass is an ass, minette." He said, wagging his eyebrows at me.

"No, you're right. And you are definitely an ass." I gave him a pointed smile and turned to leave.

"Maybe your Conductor and I can exchange notes on the subject."

I stopped and glared back at him from over my shoulder and he raised his hands in total innocence, "On your kissing! Not your ass, obviously. Yet."

And then he winked.

This is why I don't share secrets with Remy Lebeau. Let this be a lesson to me for future reference.