It took an hour to walk from the mansion to Remy's apartment in town. The day was a little blustery, and the last of the leaves were being stripped from the branches above.
"We need t'find you a coat," Rogue told him. "You'll catch your death."
"I got one, don't worry," he told her, shuffling through the leaves on the roadway, his hands in his jeans pockets.
Rogue lifted the collar of her leather jacket. She'd pulled her hair into a ponytail to keep her curls from blowing around, but several locks had escaped to float around her face.
"If I get too cold, you can just cuddle up t'me and keep me warm," he suggested.
Rogue considered her options, take his arm or move to the opposite side of the street. She chose the former. "Better?" she asked.
"Feels like I just stepped onto a beach on de Florida panhandle," he told her with a satisfied sigh.
"We shoulda just taken a car," Rogue said.
"Prefer walkin'. Or riding," he grinned down at her. "You ever been on a Harley?"
"Can't say Ah have," she answered. "You ride one?"
"Weh, from coast-to-coast. S'nice, b'cause I have biker friends wherever I go." He extended his left arm downward at a 45-degree angle, made a fist with the index and middle fingers extended but spread apart, and flashed a peace sign. "Peace on de road."
Remy turned her up a gravel driveway leading first to an outbuilding, a garage with an exterior wooden staircase leading up to the second level. Behind that was a small bungalow-style house. An older woman was outside with a rake in her hands. She was short and thin, with an almost pouchy face, long gray and brown hair in a ponytail. She looked up at their approach.
"Mornin' Miz Robin," Remy told her.
"You're three days late with the rent," she said by way of greeting. "It was due on the first."
"Sorry, sorry," he told her. "I got it upstairs, let me go get it." To Rogue he said: "You mind waitin' here?"
She shrugged and said: "Sure."
"You haven't been smoking inside, have you?" Robin asked as he began to depart.
"No ma'am," he told her as he started up the steps. "On my honor."
"You'd best pick up those butts on the ground, then," Robin called. From the doorway, Rogue could see Remy grimace and had the good grace to look embarrassed.
Robin turned her gray gaze to Rogue. "You're new," the woman said.
"Hi, nice t'meet you," Rogue said, and put her hands in her coat pockets. She considered the woman's statement. Did that mean there were "old" visitors? "Remy have people over often?"
"No," Robin said. "Never seen him with anyone. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder about him. Glad to see he brought home a young lady."
"Oh," Rogue said, and felt heat come to her face.
"Seen him come and go," Robin continued. "Jogging, bringing home books. Running off into the forest for some reason. I wouldn't normally rent to young kids, they usually trash the place. But he's been quiet. Polite enough. Late with the rent."
"Well, it's not entirely his fault, ma'am," Rogue said. "He...was involved in an accident. Been takin' care of him for a bit."
Robin's unsmiling face looked marginally mollified. "Then he should've said."
"Maybe he didn't want to seem like he was makin' excuses?" Rogue suggested. "Maybe don't mention Ah said anything to you about it?"
"Hmph," Robin commented.
Remy was trotting back down the steps, he'd put his ugly brown coat on. When he reached Robin and Rogue, he extended several fifty-dollar bills in Robin's direction. "I'm afraid I'm a little shy," he told her. "I can make up de difference. If you need somethin' done 'round de house. Raking leaves, mebbe?"
Robin took the money and handed him back a few bills. "You take this. On the condition you stay on another month. I could use the extra money for Christmas gifts for my grandbabies."
Remy reluctantly took the money back. "Y'sure?"
"Pick up those cigarettes and I won't have anything to complain about. You're a good tenant."
"Yes, ma'am," Remy responded, then extended his hand for the rake. "I'll finish up your chorin'."
Robin relinquished her rake to Remy without hesitation. "How about you find the other rake in the garage? I have an extra from when my late husband and I used to do this together." She told Rogue: "Make yourself useful." Robin turned and left.
Once the older woman was out of earshot, Rogue gave Remy a look. "She's nice," Rogue said with a touch of sarcasm.
Remy smiled at her. "Least you know where you stand wit' her. Hard to meet honest folks."
Rogue followed Remy to the garage, where he unlocked and pulled up the garage door with a key hidden behind the outside light. Remy's bike was there, along with an older Buick and all the yard care equipment. They found a second rake. Rogue recovered a blue tarp. "Maybe we can use this?"
"What for?" he asked.
"Put the leaves on it, then drag it over to the woods," Rogue told him.
"Glad I found a partner with experience," Remy told her. "Yard work is not something I've tried b'fore."
"Didn't you ever pull weeds? Mow the lawn growin' up?" Rogue asked.
"If you'd seen where I grew up, you'd realize there was not any hope of maintaining any kind of yard," Remy replied. "Just weeds, wet, and snakes."
Rogue unfolded the tarp and let it float to the grass in a centralized location. Remy handed her the second rake and they got to work pulling the leaves together in a pile. When it seemed the pile was big enough, they dragged the tarp over to the woods, dumped it, and started again.
"Warm enough now," Rogue observed when they finished the second pile. She wiped her forehead with the back of her gloved hand.
Remy just seemed more energetic than before, running with the tarp back to the woods. Rogue had to clean up after him when leaves began trailing behind him. He dumped the leaves onto the first pile, making a tall mountain of yard debris.
"Seen people do dis on the tee-vee," he said and fell backwards into the pile. "Ow. Well, that wasn't as fun as I imagined it would be."
Rogue laughed. "You'd best hope Robin doesn't have a dog, sugah."
Remy sat up, leaves falling from his hair. "Like I'd stay in a place with some mangy canine roaming about." He extended his hand to her. Rogue grasped it to pull him up, but instead found herself being pulled down beside him into the leaves.
"Hey!" she said. "You cut that out!"
"Honestly, I didn't think I'd be able to pull you down, chère. What with you being Hulk-like in strength."
"You surprised me," she said, and tossed a handful of leaves in his face. He retaliated.
"Now quit!" Rogue said, brushing leaves from her hair and shirtfront. "Or we'll have to start all over again!"
Remy flopped back into the leaves, began raising and lowering his legs as if making a snow-angel. With his arms extended, she poked him in the armpit, tickling him. "You're a goofball!" she announced as he laughed.
He stopped, pulled something from his coat pocket. It was a tiny red digital camera. "Look'a here," he said and held the camera above their heads. "Smile pretty."
Rogue looked at the camera, moved slightly closer to where Remy lay propped up on an elbow. "Say frommage," he told her and depressed the button. He turned the camera over so they could see the view screen on the back.
"Mah hair is a wreck!" Rogue complained.
"Next to mine, looks pretty good, chère," he grinned.
Robin came back outside, the screen door slamming behind her. She was carrying two mugs in her hands. Remy and Rogue extricated themselves from the pile, Remy trying to kick the leaves back into some semblance of order.
"Here you two," she said, and extended to mugs of hot cider in their direction. "This is what me and my Frank used to drink after raking. You go sit up on my porch. Give me those rakes."
"Thank you," Rogue said, and accepted her mug in exchange for the rake.
The woman marched off towards the garage without comment. Remy and Rogue shrugged at one another and made their way to Robin's porch. There was a swinging bench hanging from the underside of the porch ceiling. Remy sat, then Rogue. He nudged the swing to gently rock.
"You still got leaves all over," Rogue told him, trying to brush them off.
"We can go inside after, and I can clean up some," Remy replied, drinking his cider. "This cider ain't bad, but now I'm going to be flyin' high as a kite."
"Sugar rush?"
"It used t'be that I'd always get my candy stole," Remy told her. "On account of me driving everyone crazy if I ate too much. Especially if I ate something red. That's weird, ain't it?"
"Maybe red food coloring has some kinda chemical in it?" Rogue wondered.
Robin returned. "You just put those mugs on the railing when you're done," she said. "Then go fool around somewhere else."
Remy's smile was very bright. "Absolutely!"
Rogue nudged him in the side with her elbow. Remy laughed and Robin shook her head and returned to the house. They obediently placed their empty mugs on the railing then started towards Remy's apartment. From the apartment doorway, Rogue surveyed the interior. A bed under the dormer to the left, looking like a tent under the sloped ceiling, the walls framing it along three sides. A small table and two chairs in the kitchenette, tiny counter with a sink, two-burner stove top, and small refrigerator. On the right, the back of a brown checkered couch which sat facing a coffee table covered in rolls and reams of paper. A television sat on a small stand. There was a window in the dormer, along the door-side wall, and behind the television. A door past the kitchen presumably led to a bathroom. After hanging his coat on a hook on the wall, Remy headed towards the bed, leaving Rogue in the middle of the room, flanked one side by the bed, one side by the couch. Rogue likewise hung up her coat.
Remy lifted the corner of his mattress, retrieved an envelope, and returned a portion of the money to it.
"You don't seriously keep your money in the mattress, do you?" Rogue asked and walked towards him.
"'Course, where else I'd keep it?"
"A bank, for starters," Rogue suggested.
"I don't trust banks," he told her. "Nothin' but a shell game for rich folks to hide their money in. Offshore accounts hiding their dirty gains. Money launderers for drug cartels, crimelords and terrorists!" His volume increased as he spoke.
"The teller at our local branch is perfectly nice," Rogue told him.
"Now who's keepin' company with criminals!" Remy announced and sat on the end of the bed.
"What in the world put you in the mind that banks are criminal operations?" she asked, and tentatively sat beside him.
"From de company I didn't choose to keep," Remy replied. "CEOs and board members of Lehman Brothers, Deutsche Bank. Big ole scam. I highly suggest you divest yourself of any real estate investments for de foreseeable future."
Rogue considered him. He wasn't looking at her, and his expression was quite angry. She saw his hands were resting on either side of him on the mattress, fisted in the bedclothes. Rogue put her hand over the one nearest her. "We don't have to talk about it," she said, though she was desperate to know why he was hobnobbing with bank executives.
His expression softened and he turned to look at her. The look of gratitude on his face assuaged her curiosity. She reached up to pick a twig from his hair. Spontaneously, she kissed him on the corner of his mouth.
Remy grinned. "You ever kiss anyone before me?" he asked.
"Is that your way of sayin' I'm an amateur kisser?" she responded.
"I think you're a natural, chère," he told her. "But you're welcome to keep practicing on me if you like."
She glanced away, but then returned her gaze to his dark one. "Maybe," she said. "Ah have kissed a few. Usually, to borrow and use someone else's powers and abilities."
"Smoochin' on Logan then?" he suggested with a mischievous smile that deepened his dimple.
Rogue scoffed. "Ah can't believe-ugh! Yes, alright!"
Remy laughed quietly. "But as a friend. You don't have a boyfriend?"
Rogue shook her head. "Ah mean...one time Ah thought Ah could have a relationship. But realized, given how Ah am...anyway, even if it was possible, Ah didn't think Ah deserved one."
"Don't deserve one? Why would you think that, chère? Not everyone has relationships where they get t'touch each other. Long-distance, separation for whatever reason, sickness. Doesn't mean you got to deny yourself companionship."
yes, why don't you tell him why you don't deserve anyone, rogue, Carol said. and spare him your sob-story about cody. tell him the real reason.
"Ah just don't want to hurt anyone again," Rogue said quietly.
He watched her for a long moment. "We don't got to talk about that either," he finally said. "But, it was the same for me, avoiding people after my powers started going haywire. Hiding in the desert, then the woods. Only sticking to places where I felt calm. But then going to have a burger or watch a game...something inevitably would happen and I find himself out of control again. Felt like I was going to just be alone for the rest of my life."
"At least things seem under control for you now, sugah," she told him, smiled sadly. "Ah'm glad for you."
"How about we do an experiment. You test your willingness to touch, and I test my ability to not get all wound up?"
"After what happened last time?" Rogue asked. "Ah think Robin won't take too kindly to me blowing a hole in her roof.
"I don't think it'll happen again," Remy told her. "It was like you were joined t'me when my powers kicked back on. Set up some kinda circuit. Now I can turn it off. Watch." He mimed pulling a cord in the air. "On...off...on...off." With every 'on' he began to glow. Rogue looked away, blinking stars from her eyes.
She laughed. "Okay, you can stop with the demonstration," she shielded her eyes.
He flopped back onto the mattress, folded his hands behind his head. "I'm a willing victim. I won't fight back," he told her. "Do your worst. But make it good." He closed his eyes, apparently in anticipation.
Rogue considered his face for a moment. After several heartbeats, he raised his eyebrows as if to say: Well...? Rogue exhaled a nervous breath, leaned over him and kissed him on his mouth gently. He remained immobile. She tried again, and she could feel his smile under her lips.
"Alright sugah," she told him. "It's like kissin' a dead fish. Maybe you can kiss me back a bit."
One of his eyes opened to regard her. "As you wish," he told her.
She leaned over him, her mouth a hair's breadth from his. She let out a nervous breathy giggle and he laughed too. "Okay, here goes," she said, smiling. Her lips caught his, and his lips softly parted to return her kiss. She lingered on his lower lip, then kissed him fully again. Her hand rested on his chest, she could feel his heart beating through his shirt. His stubble rasped against her upper lip and chin. She broke their kiss to rub her lips against his cheek, just beside the corner of his mouth, to feel the contrast of sharp and soft. It was a novelty.
"Mebbe I should attempt a razor?" he asked.
"No, Ah like it," she said, and pressed her mouth to his some more. She felt her belly flutter when she touched the tip of her tongue to his lower lip. He made a small sound that set her on fire. Rogue withdrew with a shaky breath.
His eyes blinked back open to regard her. "Not bad for an amateur. Think you're ready for de Minor Leagues yet?"
"You're in the Big Leagues, Ah suppose. How many people have you kissed?" she asked in a mock accusing tone.
"Lots and lots," he whispered, his smile sly. "Try to keep in de game."
"Very funny," she said against his mouth. "Maybe I should bench you?"
"Maybe you should take off these mitts?" he asked and gently touched the back of her gloved hand.
Rogue sat up, considered her gloved hands. She pulled one glove off, then the other. She'd done a lot of damage with these hands. She turned back to Remy. He was observing her in silence, but then closed his eyes again. Rogue reached out and ran a fingertip over his upper lip, let it trail over his cheekbone. His nose wrinkled.
"You're ticklin' me," he said.
She traced the line of his nose. "Someone break your nose, sugah?"
"Yeah, me," he said, eyes closed and smiling at the memory.
"How'd you manage that?" she asked and ran her index finger over one of his eyebrows.
"Mm, I was mebbe about ten at de time, was building a treefort wit' my friend. She was up on de platform, I was down on de ground. She needed a hammer, so I thought I'd loop it inta this pulley thing we had. Started hauling it up, and de thing inverted and fell right on my face, claw part first."
"Oh, that must've hurt," she winced in sympathy.
"Quite a lot of blood," he told her. "Two black eyes...blacker anyway."
She finished tracing the planes of his face. Rogue ran her hand through his thick hair, then swept her hand down the side of his neck and onto his chest. She saw that his shirt was hiked up, a few inches of skin between his shirt hem and jeans were exposed, revealing an inch or two above and below his navel. She touched her fingers to the exposed skin and he drew in a breath, stomach sucking away from her touch.
"You okay?" she asked, snatching her hand back.
"Your hands are cold," he said.
"Your body is hot," she replied.
"You're not de first to observe dis," he said. Rogue sat up and chaffed her hands together, and kneeling beside him on the mattress, put both hands on his stomach.
He made a humming sound in his throat. Rogue pushed her hands up inside of his shirt. "You feel tingly," she said. "Like sliding through a plastic tube slide on a playground."
"You feel nice," he murmured. "Who'da thought someone who could bend steel girders could touch so gentle?" He looked up at her then. Sat up slightly and removed his shirt.
Presented with a significant portion of exposed bare skin, Rogue hesitated, then ran her hands over his shoulders and chest, slid down his toned arms. "Do a lot of upper-body at the gym, sugah?"
He laughed. "I run on occasion too, but yeah, you can say I might spend a lot of time climbin' ropes and tossin' things about."
"Like candy bars?" she teased and let her fingers bump down the muscles of his abdomen.
"I was lookin' forward to my trick-or-treat, but you were so cute in your little costume," he said. He held out his hand to her.
Rogue took it in her own, then guided his palm to cup her face. He had narrow, almost elegant hands. She let his fingers leave tingling trails down her cheek, then across her lips. Remy let out a shaky sigh. She led his hand down the column of her throat. She was wearing a gray tank top under an oversized mustard and brown checkered flannel, shirttails tied at her waist. Rogue released his hand to untie her shirt, slip it off her shoulders, exposing her bare arms. He turned onto his side, sat up to face her.
She took both of his hands in her opposite, first one then the other. "Touch me here," she told him and placed one of his hands onto her left shoulder, the other on her right.
His hands slid slowly down her arms to her hands, then back up. She shivered. Her own hands moved to the hem of her tank, she lifted it over her head as she turned away from him. Gathering her hair in one hand, she pulled her ponytail over her shoulder to expose the back of her neck. "And here," she directed, pointing to her nape.
When his fingers touched her hairline, she felt her shoulders bunch up around her ears. Remy paused, but didn't take his hand away. Rogue forced herself to relax, lowering her shoulders with a deep exhale. His hand trailed down the back of her neck, then back up to her hairline. A finger ran from behind her earlobe and down the side of her neck. Ticklish almost, and raising the hairs on her neck, making her flesh pebble with goosebumps. That was strange, she normally didn't get them from being cold. Another novel experience.
"Move lower," she said softly, thinking of when he'd directed her to scratch his back. Remy's warm hands brushed over her shoulders, then across her shoulder blades. It was definitely ticklish when she felt his fingers brush the backs of her biceps. She hugged her arms closer to herself. She did not like being tickled. Kurt had tried, and she hated the feeling of him sneaking up on her to touch her unasked, then the loss of control she felt at the involuntary spasm as she recoiled from his tickling tail. She'd thrown him in the lake after that.
"Ticklish?" Remy asked quietly.
She nodded. "Please don't," she said.
She felt him shift behind her and she tensed. "I won't touch you anywhere unless you tell me to."
Rogue relaxed, or as much as she could while at the same time feeling so aroused. "Go lower," she said again and his hands came to the small of her back, tracing circles and shapes with his fingertips. This was also very tickly, but not in a 'ah, I'm about to wet my pants!' kind of way. This tickling did something to make a warm, heated weight rest between her legs. She swallowed nervously as his hands traced the waistline of her jeans. Rogue thought they'd better stop, but instead she took one of his hands in her own, guided him closer until she could feel the heat of his front against her back. She took his arm under hers, put his hand against her neck and slid it down her throat, across her clavicle, then to the top of one breast. She pressed his hand against one of the cups of her bra and drew in a sharp breath. Even though the fabric, she could feel herself respond. She could hear him respond as well, feel his breath on the back of her neck. Rogue released his hand, turned to face him.
His face was very close to hers. She touched his cheek with her fingertips, kissed him again. "Thanks for that," she whispered.
"Happy to be of service, mademoiselle," he said and smiled.
Facing front to front, Rogue realized his arousal was more evident than her own. She felt her face redden while at the same time felt as if she'd achieved some great accomplishment. That she'd made him feel as she did. "Now your turn," she said.
"I thought I was already having all de fun," he replied.
"Lay on your stomach," he told him.
"Awright," he said and toed his shoes from his feet. He skootched up onto the mattress, then lay face-down. Rogue clambered over him and straddled the backs of his thighs.
"Are you gonna scratch my back for me again?" he asked, voice half-muffled by the pillow.
"No," she said and applied her hands firmly to his shoulders.
"Oof," he said.
Rogue took her hands away. "Did Ah hurt ya?"
He shook his head. "Naw, just the opposite." Rogue resumed putting pressure into the muscles on his back. He told her: "Been awhile since anyone touched me other than to beat the ever livin' daylights outta me."
"You been startin' fights, sugah?" she asked, pressing into the space between his shoulder blades. He made a moaning sound into the pillow and Rogue sucked in her breath, feeling the sound of his voice tug something between her legs.
"I don't usually start fights," he said into the pillow. "I only fight if someone's backed me inta a corner and I'm tryin' to get away. Why fight when I can talk my way out?"
She continued her downward trajectory, pressing her thumbs under his shoulder blades. There was a scar, a raised line on his back that went from shoulder to hip. "Someone hit ya, sugah?" she asked.
"Is that still there?" he asked. "You'da thought my broke nose and scars woulda cleared up after I blew myself t'pieces. Guess I must just be used t'them being a part of me."
"Who hit ya?" she asked.
He didn't answer for a long time. "Dis crazy woman," he finally said. "Though I might've provoked her."
"Thought you'd preferred talkin' over fightin'?" Rogue asked.
"She didn't like somethin' I'd said," he responded.
"An ex-girlfriend?" Rogue asked, and felt his body tense beneath hers.
"No," he said flatly. "I did not want t'be anywhere near de woman."
"Ah'm sorry, sugah," she told him. "Just relax, I don't want to wind you up now. You're supposed t'be practicing calm, right?"
"Might need your help wit' dat," he said softly.
"How's this?" she said, leaning over him, pressing her weight into a knot in his shoulder.
"Hmmmmph," he groaned. "Don't stop."
She continued her process until she heard him sigh. "Better?" she asked.
"Mnh-hm."
"Not like you to be outta words," she said, teasing. He shifted beneath her and she lifted herself onto her knees. He turned over. Now she was straddling the front of his thighs.
"I like de way you touch, chère," he said. The light from the window above was mid-afternoon bright. It fell across his face and chest.
She fingered the mark in the middle of his chest, like a diamond-shaped scar. "Ah like the way you feel," she told him.
"You must be one of them steel magnolias," he told her. "Soft on de inside, but hard as nails on de out. Or mebbe the other way around?"
Her eyes flicked up to his face. "You didn't watch that sappy movie, did ya?" she asked, a slow smile on her face.
He nodded. "When I saw you in that Dolly shirt in de library, thought I'd better revisit the woman's entire oeuvre. Albums, movies. I got that and 9-to-5 over there from de library. Probably have a huge overdue fine by now."
Rogue glanced back at the television set. There was a VCR and two cassettes on the TV stand. She smiled.
"You wanna watch?" he asked. "I don't mind watchin' it again."
"Alright," she said and reluctantly climbed off of him. She claimed her tank top from the floor and put it back on. Remy sat up too, but neglected his shirt. He ambled over to the VCR, pushed a tape into the slot and pressed 'play.'
"You want something t'drink?" he asked her. "On tap, I got all de finest well-water a man could buy."
"Sure, sugah, that sounds nice," Rogue sat in the center of the couch, watching the FBI warning appear on the screen. She looked down at all the documents cast about on the coffee table. She recognized a photo of the X-Mansion as seen from above, she'd seen it quite often from that vantage point. Rogue pushed aside papers, found articles and floorplans.
"Where'd you get all this?" she asked, feeling nervous.
Remy placed a glass of water on top of a newspaper article about the School.
"Library," he answered. "Archives, county auditor, newspaper, de Internets."
"Are you for real?" she asked.
"I have my sources," he said smugly. "All honestly come by. 'Cept for me grillin' you on de house inhabitants. I hope you believe I regret doin' that." He sipped his water, sat beside her on the couch to lean against the armrest. One of his arms lay across the back of the couch. "This okay?" he asked and raised his free hand.
Rogue nodded and sat back against the cushions. She could feel the heat of his arm behind her against the back of her neck and shoulders. As the opening credits began to play, she relaxed further, let herself rest half into the space between his arm and shoulder. "Is this okay?" she asked him.
"C'est bon," he said.
Together they turned to watch the movie. Rogue's stomach was wringing itself into knots with excitement, her heart was beating quite fast. This might be what it was like to have a for-real boyfriend, she thought. It was hard to concentrate on the movie, which she had seen several times already. They were at the part of the movie where Sally Field's character was demanding in tearful outrage to know why her daughter had died. The intensely sad moment was broken by the laughter of friendship. Rogue blinked at her tears, she glanced up at Remy to see his reaction.
Remy pointed at the screen then and she turned her gaze away from the side of his face to look. He said: "Dis de best line of de whole film."
Dolly's character, Truvey Jones said: "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."
Next time: The Doctor will see you now.