Buns of Steel:  Chapter Three

            "Gambit never get any lovin' 'round dis place."

            Remy padded across the hardwood flooring in his suite, pacing, arms crossed in aggravation, muttering to himself and waiting impatiently for the pole to finish with its shower. He was about to simply retire to bed with a book to wait it out, until he heard a sharp knock at the door.

            He jerked the slab of wood open roughly, his sexual frustration evident through his brute force. "What'ya wan'?" he growled at the intruder. Johnny smiled.

            "G'day, mate," his ex-roommate said in his cheerfully trite, stereotyped Aussie accent, moving quickly past Gambit into the room, wandering aimlessly about and eventually ending up perched on the bed, flipping through the book the Cajun'd been planning to pretend to read to get is mind off the pole.

            All wet an' naked in t' shower, perfec'ly vulner'ble, an'-- no, no, Remy! Bad Cajun! he chided himself, wishing St. John would go take a flying leap off the balcony.

            "Le Beau, Remy, ya plannin' t' take a breather anytime soon, mate?" he asked worriedly, noticing the thief's rigid stance and apparent non-breathing. ((Shut up, I know that was lame. .;))

            Every pole has a price to charge and a price to pay... "Wha'?" he said, startled. "John, why y' still here?" he asked, trying not to whine. The pole was due out of the shower anytime.

            "Just makin' convo, s'all," Johnny assured him. "I also... wanted to talk to the pole... alone," he added in a tiny voice, accompanied/followed by a cough. He smiled. Remy scowled. Allerdyce smiled wider. "Ye're skerred I'll take 'im away from ye, aren't ya, Rems? That I'll play 'im, eh?" the foolish mutant cackled.

            "Playin' for keeps is still playin', mon ami, so take a card... ANY CARD!" Remy screeched, posing and whipping a solitary Jack out of thin air (or so it would seem), and in his other thieving hand, held the firefly's lighter, freshly liberated from his pants pocket.

            St. John gulped in fear.

            Remy sneered. "'Danks, Johnny. Again." He gestured toward the door. "Now bes' be gettin' out, 'fore m' pole's done."

* * * * *

A/N: 

            And you thought you could stop me.  Ha!  Hahahaaa..ha...  ::cough::

            Fun news!  I bought this nifty little Remy dolly-toy off eBay, and guess who he comes with!  :D  Mmyes, that'd be Pole.  So, when I get around to it, there will be a picturebook to go along with this fic.  :D  Aren't you excited? 

            Stole some actual Gambit lines I found online. Fwee. Three cheers for authenticity. ::yawns::  And bad me, sticking notes in the body of the fic.  I hate doing that, but… ehhhhh.  .;  This ain't a masterpiece or nothin'… or is it?  ::sneaky glance::  Not that the spellchecking alone doesn't already kill my brain with catching every single word of Remy's (and Johnny's, come to think of it) accent(s)...  ::stabs spellchecker::

            Also, uhh, to all the dudes reviewing kindly, thanks!  :D  But to the people (damned Rogue/Remy wanters who were disappointed and bitter when they reviewed!  Hahahaaa!) who left meanie notes, poo on you.  ;P  You DO realize that you're all encouraging my bizarre behavior, right?