Author's Note: As always, thank you for the reviews :D Short update, a bite sized one =)
Tamisha: Thank you for the kind words. As of now, I've only written X-Men fic. However, there are other fandoms I want to try my hand in =) [I'm writing another X-Men fic, currently, that I hope to post after this one is complete.]
- 36 -
Ororo tried to sit up under the firm pressure of Remy's body draped across her chest. Not that he was overly heavily, but Ororo did not want to wake him if she didn't have to. She exhaled softly, eyes falling down into the face of the Cajun sleeping atop her bare chest, his arms curled around her stomach, lifting with every rise and fall of her chest.
The tender scene made her grin – seeing Remy's mouth slighted parted, snoring lightly, reddish-brown hair subtly contrasting against the soft brown of her bare skin. Charmed, she let the auburn strands slide silkily through her slender fingers. Once. Twice. Until her whole hand was running through the tumbled tresses, gently caressing along his scalp. Her fingers drifted down to his face, (which was completely disarming in his slumber), and traced over the handsome lines of it with her fingertips. They brushed down his back, playing up and down his spine like the keys on the piano she used to play in her youth, and then, she felt a warm rumble of laughter vibrating against her.
"Ah, so he wakes," she said to him. He chuckled, and she laughed with him.
"Usin' someone fo' a piano, would wake anyone, chère," he complained groggily.
The irony of his remark amused her. "Well, whaddaya know, that's precisely what I was doing," she said to Remy. She ruffled his hair further, and he caught her hand.
"'S not like I mind, t'ough, chèrie." His eyes narrowed at her and he allowed a smirk to shape his lips, his head angled back to gaze up into her face while she continued her playing around in his hair.
"Oh yes, how I could I forget?" she giggled softly. "You are a very . . . tactile man, aren't you, Remy LeBeau?"
The Cajun propped himself up on an elbow, staring at her quietly a few moments. His gaze fell to the sheet that covered her, before grabbing it, pulling it back, and slowly lowering his head down near her exposed upper half.
"It depends, y' kno'—" His voice took on a deeper tone . . .
"—on whose doin' de touchin'."
. . . That, to Ororo, was undeniably sensual.
His warm mouth and lips were hot on her skin, the narrow valley between her breasts. "Remy . . ." She inhaled sharply. "We-we have to be up for breakfast, t-to get ready to head off with dad today," she objected weakly. Her hands found their way back into his hair even as she protested, arching off the bed with every nibble of his teeth, and sweep of his tongue.
With another sigh of contentment, Ororo relented under the increased pressure of Remy's ministrations. She guessed, perhaps, maybe one more hour in bed wouldn't make that much of a difference.
— x —
After a shower – that Remy had insisted on joining in – and pulling on some clothes, the time passed was probably more like two hours. Ororo bounded down the stairs with Remy on her heels and headed directly for her father's study. Ororo pressed her ear to the door, listening for any sounds, before straightening up, and rapping on the door three times, her hand poised on the knob. She pushed the door open a sliver, and poked her head inside. Charles sat behind his desk with his hands steepled in front of him, looking as if he'd been expecting her all the while.
Ororo grinned sheepishly, before entering the room fully.
"Oh, hi, dad."
"Ororo."
Remy followed in behind her.
"Remy."
"Hey, Charles. Mornin'," the Cajun waved weakly. Though, "good afternoon" would have been more fitting, considering the time of day.
The two stood silently, glancing at each other, until Ororo cleared her throat, and shifted warily under Charles' gaze.
"Um, I'm sorry, dad. I slept in later than I should have."
Remy and Ororo glanced at each other, a silent look, and then back at Charles'. The Cajun looked as if he was fighting a grin, and Charles' own amusement was obvious.
"So I see."
". . ."
"Well," said Ororo after a few more moments, "are you still taking us—well, wherever you're taking us? I know we were supposed to go yesterday but—"
Xavier smiled and nodded, beckoning them on. "Yes. Come. I was waiting for you both."
Ororo let out a breath, and shot Remy a look, to which he just winked and chuckled. He held the door for 'Ro and Charles and closed it quietly behind them all.
Xavier stopped and turned back towards them. "Wait, you two haven't eaten this morning. Would like to have a bite first?"
Ororo looked to Remy, who shrugged noncommittally. "Umm, that's okay, dad. We've wasted enough time already. We can always get something on the way . . . if that's all right with you, Remy."
"D'accord, ma chère," he shrugged again.
"Yeah, we'll do that, dad," Ororo said to Xavier.
Charles nodded. "All right. Let's proceed then."
Remy and Ororo followed Xavier out front, to the waiting town car parked out front of the mansion. The chauffeur came to assist Charles into the vehicle, and Ororo waved him off with a grateful smile, assisting her father into the back herself.
"Ah, thank you, Ororo."
Ororo dove in fast, and kissed her father's hairless head with a loud smack. "Sure, dad." Remy grinned.
The driver carefully collapsed Charles' chair, and loaded it into the trunk, while Remy held the door open for Ororo, and slid in behind her once she was seated.
"Is Moira not coming?" Ororo asked, settling into her seat, reaching beside her to retrieve the safety belt.
Charles shook his head. "She said she'd call me if she was. She doesn't know how long she'll be in the lab tonight."
"Oh."
Ororo watched her father's face suspiciously. He looked overly pleased about something, and his apparent excitement over wherever he was taking them was hardly concealed. If she wasn't curious about all this since she arrived, she definitely was now.
"Dad?"
"Hmm?"
"Might I ask where we going, now?"
"You can, but I will not tell you," he said to her.
Ororo balked. "And why not? Don't you think you held unto this little secret long enough?" she laughed softly.
"Ororo," Charles sighed, feigning greater exasperation with her than he really had. "It is a surprise."
Ororo shook her head and turned towards Remy. "Can you believe this guy?" she jerked her thumb in Charles' direction.
"I discussed it some with Remy at breakfast the other morning."
Ororo arched a brow at Remy. "He did?"
Remy laughed. "It wasn' like he tol' me much, chère. I don' kno' where we goin' either."
Ororo turned back towards her father. "So . . . " she stared at him and lifted her shoulders, "what can you tell us?"
Xavier seemed to consider it for a moment, sitting up straighter before he replied. "I guess since we're en route it wouldn't hurt to tell you a little."
"How gracious of you."
Xavier shook his head at her. "There has been something that I've been considering for a while now. Even before you moved to New Orleans, Ororo. I was planning it, working on it. Ironing out the details. Moira has been helping me . . . I've even asked Jean to be a part of it, as well."
Now that was a surprise.
"Jean? Jean knows? About this?" Ororo screeched.
"Yes."
"Oh my—well, I'll be." Ororo fell back into her seat, her arms crossed, and an amazed expression on her face. She shook her head slowly.
"Does everyone know but me?"
"Are you angry, Ororo?"
"Dad, no, but th—"
"I want you to see it first; I want to be able walk you through it when I tell you. I want you to see my vision, Ororo. What I am doing—it's - it's a dream of mine."
"Wha—a dream of yours . . .?" He nodded and Ororo frowned, her brow crinkling as she sat back, exhaling deeply, and considered what it was he was telling her.
A dream of his?
Ororo shook her head again. A dream of his, she ruminated.
She gasped out loud suddenly when it dawned on her slowly. My God. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. If it was her father's dream – Dr. Charles Francis Xavier's dream – then it could only involve one thing.
"So . . ." Her eyes flicked up to meet his directly, shaking her head slowly, disbelievingly, "this is about . . . mutants."
Remy's mouth parted, his eyes widening as the dots connected and it all began to make sense to him too. The other day – what Charles had said to him at breakfast:
". . . All of this has much to do with why I asked Ororo to visit . . . . Helping mutants, Remy . . . . A broad reason, of course, but it does relate to why I wanted to have a discussion with Ororo in person . . . ."
"Bien sûr . . ." he muttered to himself.
How astute, Xavier mused. The twinkle in his eyes would have confirmed it, even if he hadn't spoken up and admitted it to them aloud. But it didn't go unnoticed by Ororo or Remy that Charles' looked a bit surprised that they'd figured it out.
"Yes, Ororo. It does. More than anything."
Ororo simply stared at her father, before turning towards Remy, who did his best to give her an encouraging smile, reaching across the seat to take her hand. She shot him a grateful half-smile.
"Don't draw any conclusions yet, Ororo," Xavier prompted. "Wait until we've arrived there, and I've explained everything to you. Because right now you do not seem . . . pleased."
"I'm not upset, dad," she sighed. "But honestly, I don't know what to think, or what conclusions to draw that's all. I still do not know enough. This is not—that has never been—"
She didn't finish her statement, just sighed again. "All right. I trust you, dad. I'll wait to hear you out first," she grinned softly.
"That's all I ask, for now. Thank you." Xavier reached forward and laid a placating hand on her knee.
Ororo, wiling to hear her father out, give him the benefit of the doubt, gave a good-natured roll of her eyes. Charles grinned.
"Good. Now, let's stop and eat somewhere. Before we get on the New Jersey Turnpike."
Ororo blanched, turning towards Remy, whose expression mirrored her own, and then back to her father.
"New Jersey Turnpike? Just where are we going? !"
Xavier sat back and answered with a wide grin. Certainly, it couldn't hurt to tell them now.
"Westchester. New York."
Translations:
Bien sûr = Of course