* * *
Remy tries ta pretend he doesn't care, but Ah know he hates it when Ah eat in bed. Haven't figured out if it's 'cause he's got such a particular, formal relationship with food or if it's 'cause he doesn't like th' idea of crumbs on th' sheets.
Ah licked mango juice off my fingers an' carefully settled my legs across Remy's stomach. Used ta be that Ah was jealous o' those girls who could just drape themselves anywhere when Ah couldn't. Skin on skin, right? Remy's shirt was ridin' up a little. His flat stomach was barely visible, but that could be enough if Ah accidentally touched him for long enough. He was absorbed in a beat-up copy of Naked Lunch he'd picked up somewhere, but that didn't stop him from reaching down ta brush his fingertips lightly along my calves. Ah could feel my powers like static sparks.
"Did y' know dat William S. Burroughs shot his wife in Mexico when dey were trying t' play William Tell?"
"Ah can think of better games," Ah said, raisin' one leg and tapping my toes against his stomach. Then Ah dropped another piece of mango into my mouth, closed my eyes an' chewed slowly. When Ah reopened my eyes, Remy had put down th' book an' was starin' at me. "Good for catchin' flies, right?" Ah laughed, rememberin' that he'd said somethin' like that ta me back when we first met. He sat up quickly an' Ah partially tumbled off th' bed. "Hey!"
"Not nice t' tease a man, beb," he said mock-serious, waving a finger.
"Didn't think ya'd notice." Ah stretched my leg an' nudged th' book onto th' floor. The sound it made seemed real loud, only 'cause th' room had gotten real quiet. "Ah mean, why have a girlfriend when ya have a book?" Remy's hair fell partly over his eyes an' Ah had a hard time tryin' ta guess what he'd do next, which is why th' pillow ta the head took me completely by surprise.
Ah put a foot on his shoulder an' shoved him over backwards, usin' the time ta grab a pillow of my own. He laughed an' Ah made sure not ta put any force behind my swing. In old movies, this is always where th' feather pillows would bust open, only we didn't have th' money for feather pillows, an' the acrylic stuffin' stayed put.
He dove across th' bed, ending up sprawled across my knees, his hands reaching for all th' ticklish places he'd committed ta memory over th' past few months. He'd kept explainin' that if ya were gonna have a super powerful girlfriend ya were gonna have ta find some of her weaknesses. He was quick o' course. Quicker than me. In between, he'd steal tiny kisses but the feelin' of his lips on my skin would evaporate almost faster than it took ta realize they were there in th' first place.
Ah reached for him, tryin' ta get a good grip, but he sprang back nimbly, restin' on th' balls of his feet. He was breathless an' smilin'. Ah sprang at him, stretchin' out my fingers just in time ta catch hold of his shirt. Heard the fabric snarl a little when it ripped. Overbalanced, we fell flat. Ah tucked his hips between my knees an' gave him my best shit-eatin' grin. He craned his neck without too much difficulty an' pressed his lips on mine, lightly, tracin' th' outline with his tongue. Sighin', it was me that had ta pull away when Ah felt the powers start ta kick in.
Interestin' how Ah could sometimes hold 'em back for longer if my mind wasn't on 'em.
Th' collar of Remy's shirt was tilted at an unnatural angle. He looked at it sadly, touchin' the barely-torn seam.
"You going t' pay for dis, chére?"
"Forgot th' part of th' story where your clothes are more valuable than the rest of ours. Encrusted with diamonds mebbe?" Ah folded my arms. "Par for the course. An' besides, it's not like ya didn't start it."
He put on a puzzled look an' knocked on th' top of my head. "Hello? Anyone home? Seem t' recall somet'ing in de distant past where someone in dis bed has no respect for modern American literature."
Ah brushed his hand away. "An' Ah seem ta recall somethin' in th' distant past where someone else upped th' ante."
He shrugged. "Don't step up t' de table if you're not prepared t' play."
Rolled my eyes. "Don't fling gamblin' analogies at me, Cajun. Or any analogies for that matter. Ah'm too tired for that." Ah made a big show outta fluffin' th' pillow in my hand an' settlin' back on th' bed. "Dinner was excellent, by th' way."
Remy'd fixed up some kinda improvised biryani. Basmati an' chicken. He cooked recklessly, just like always, without recipes, choppin' an' mixin' things together. He moved through th' kitchen barefoot, almost dancin' in front of the' pots. Even though he didn't like people clutterin' his way, Ah always snuck a few looks. Made me happy ta see him so carefree. An' dinner had been excellent. That was true enough.
"Y' only say dat so y' won't have t' cook."
"Can ya blame me? Ah'm pretty sure John still hasn't recovered from th' last time."
He shook his head sadly an' lay against me, tossin' an arm over my chest, right under my breasts. "Don't see how anyone can mess up vegetable soup." He said it like it pained him. Mebbe it did. Like Ah said, Remy's got a complicated relationship with food.
"Too much mustard powder," Ah suggested helpfully.
"Dere's not supposed t' be mustard powder in it at all! Who in de wide world puts mustard powder in vegetable soup?"
"My mom, for one!" Ah protested, playful at first, but then Ah clapped a hand over my mouth. It wasn't a lie, but it was just like before. A flash of somethin' Ah didn't even know Ah'd forgotten. Mystique, of all people, cookin' durin' one of her visits. Not well, but amazin' that she'd do it at all. Ah buried my head in Remy's shoulder, embarrassed that it should come up at all, or that Ah should ever call Mystique 'mom.'
Remy didn't say anythin', he just touched my shoulder gently. Ah could feel the warmth of his hand through the long-sleeved t-shirt Ah was wearin'. "Any of dat mango left or did y' hog it all?"
"Here." Ah twisted, reachin' behind me ta get the plastic container. Ah popped it open with my thumb and picked out a piece for Remy. He ate it out of my hand, makin' very sure ta lick th' syrup from my fingers. "Nandi was back in today," Ah told him once he'd finished. Couldn't concentrate too well until he did anyway. Nandi's real name was Christine Martin, an' she was a street poet who lived over th' river in Southeast. Sometimes she stopped in at Ben's when she was in th' neighborhood.
"Yeah? She have anyt'ing new?"
Closed my eyes an' tried ta remember. Because th' poem sounded so good in her clear, strong voice. An' if Ah could remember then we wouldn't have ta talk about what we'd been avoidin' with the pillow fight an' the book an' everythin'.
"Ah gave you my all / But that wasn't enough / Ah handled you carefully / Ya let me down rough / Ah gobbled your lies / Because, man, they were good / Ah love ya so desperately / Much more than Ah should."
"I like it," Remy said after a long silence.
"Yeah," I agreed softly. "An' the way she said it..."
"I know." He reached past me and flicked off the light. Ah listened ta his breathin' for a long time, until it turned slow an' deep an' Ah could tell he was sleepin'. The apartment was mostly quiet then, quiet enough for me ta be able ta hear the soft click as John snapped his cigarette lighter outside th' door. Ah knew that if Ah craned my neck a little Ah'd see the soft fire glow through th' crack under th' door, but Ah stayed where Ah was. John was practicin'. Brushin' up his skills for tomorrow night when we'd all invade that house on th' Hill.
Ah shivered. What's that expression again? Someone walkin' on your grave, right?
* * *
Dat evening, when I got back from work I noticed de bruise forming on my upper arm. No one ever said dat de job was wit'out its hazards. Some days it seemed dat every driver in de whole city was gunning for me. Even though it was only spring, de days were already getting hot. Even in de mornings when de sun was barely up. Lifted my hair and fanned my neck. I'd let it get longer over de past months, equal parts laziness, lack of money and necessity. But it was becoming more of an annoyance. I went into de bathroom and stuck my head under de faucet, opening de cold water tap all de way and letting de water spill over my neck. When I raised my head, I sprayed flecks of water onto de mirror.
I shaved and t'ought about de scissors in de medicine cabinet. It was easy t' take my hair in handfuls and cut. In de end I had somet'ing dat stood up in clumpy spikes and looked like I got stuck at de wrong end of a lawnmower fight. De face in de mirror was smiling, strange eyes and all. Sometimes when I caught sight of dem it seemed for a minute dat I couldn't recognize myself at all. Ran my hand t'rough dat hair and forced myself t' look steady ahead. I liked it, even if de eyes spooked me most of de time.
Rogue had worked an early shift dat day, so she could take de night off t' come wit' us. Didn't like de idea of all three of us in harm's way (who would be dere t' be de cavalry if somet'ing went wrong?) She was napping when I went into de bedroom. De sun was setting and sent a solid bar of orange light slashing t'rough de room. Rogue was sprawled diagonal, wit' one arm thrown across her eyes. De sheets were twisted tight around her hips and her shirt was bunched high on her stomach. Her stomach was exposed and her other hand lay flat against her skin, just below her bellybutton. De light made her glow like she was on fire.
De scene stopped me for a few minutes and all I could do was admire. I rummaged t'rough our shared dresser as quietly as I could. Neither one of us had very many clothes. Stripped off my sweaty bike shirt and nylon pants. Never got tired of exchanging dirty clothes for clean ones.
"Ya cut your hair."
Jumped, but recovered quickly. "Punk as fuck, non?"
"That'd be one way ta put it." Her voice was thick wit' sleep. She swung her legs over de edge of de bed. "Why didn't ya let me do it?"
Imagined her slender fingers applying shampoo, threading t'rough my hair, clipping carefully. Dat stirred all sorts of t'ings dat I t'ought were better left unexplored if I wanted t' keep my sanity at least a little longer. Of all de t'ings I'd ever vaguely imagined doing in my life, having a girlfriend I couldn't really touch had never been one of dem. "Because I needed t' do it quickly. I didn't want t' be distracted."
She climbed t' her feet, padding softly, or mebbe she was hovering low wit' her feet skimming over de carpet. Her gray eyes were dark as rain clouds. "Ah'm a distraction? Ah should be hurt."
"Dat's not what I meant and y' know it. Where's John?"
A yawn and stretch. "Out with Anne." She looked at me hard, den laughed. "Ya don't need ta look so horrified. John knows what he's doin'."
"Y' mean Monsieur Rivers? Sometimes I doubt dat."
"No ya don't." She wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed against me, warm from her nap and smelling like sleep. Closed my eyes. "Scared?"
"I'm not a capo (coward)."
"Didn't say that, now did Ah? Ah asked if ya were scared."
It'd been a hard t'ing t' tell her 'bout de way de Guild tracked Essex across Nawlins, but in de end she'd squeezed my shoulder and thanked me quietly for telling her. Dat's de last time I'd been afraid enough t' feel dat de emotion might just swallow me up.
Shook my head. "Non. But I am worried 'bout John."
"Why?"
"Because I get a funny feeling from Anne. Or mebbe because I feel sorry for her, t'inking dat John feels somet'ing dat he doesn't."
Could feel Rogue stiffen. "Not like ya've never done that before yourself."
We'd never talked 'bout anyt'ing from...before. Past relationships. Knew dat most likely I had more t' tally in dat corner dan she did, but dat wasn't de reason we didn't talk. Apparently 't hadn't stopped her from t'inking 'bout it.
"Never wit' anyone who shouldn't have known better," I assured her. Dat wasn't a lie.
"Might sting just th' same."
"Rogue..."
"Forget it, okay? It's not important."
"Dat's right." Gently, I escaped her embrace and faced her. Dere was somet'ing closed in her face, studied blandness so dat I couldn't tell if she was really still upset or not.
"We should get ready," she finally said. Reaching down, she grabbed de hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. "Hand me another shirt, huh?"
"Tease." Smiled and was relieved when she smiled back.
While Rogue dressed, I went back into de living room. Most of de gear was assembled already, packed into two black duffels, but I unpacked it, checked it and repacked it. De buzzer sounded. Once long, den in quick succession. Even when he wasn't physically present, John had a tendency t' be spastic.
"John locked himself out again!" I called t' Rogue. Pressed de button and buzzed him up. Took practically no time at all before de knock at de door. Opened it, den tried t' slam it quickly.
"Hey!" Kitty's outraged shriek was loud even t'rough a layer of wood. "Miss Manners is rolling over in her grave right now!" Girl was pounding so hard, I swear de wood was jumping under my hands.
"Miss Manners is dead?" I asked her mildly, not budging one inch.
"How the hell should I know?"
"Who is it, Remy?" Rogue asked, coming out of de bedroom. "Not John, Ah guess."
"Remy, you creep! Let me in."
T'ought of vampires and how dey're only supposed t' come in if y' invite dem. Not de same t'ing wit' Kitty, but I knew dat she didn't like t' use her powers t' impose herself on people.
"Let her in," Rogue said quietly.
"Comment (what)?"
"Let her in." She sighed. "Ah'm th' one who invited her...sorta." Stepped back and de door flew open, slamming against de wall wit' a noisy crash. "Ah forgot th' part o' the conversation where Ah asked ya ta visit," she said t' Kitty.
Obvious t' me dat I'd missed somet'ing important. "Y' talked t' her?"
"She gave me your address," Kitty said helpfully. She closed de door and locked it. De doorknob had left a nice dent in de wall.
"Y' talked t' her?"
"Yesterday."
"Good dat y' told de rest of us."
"It was personal," Rogue snapped.
"Dat's just great."
"It's not like we're criminals. We're not in hidin'."
"Non. But dis doesn't make de situation any easier, now does it? And I'm sure de Friends of Humanity would disagree wit' you on de criminal issue."
Kitty wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Those guys."
"Exactly." Nodded at her. At least she understood dat much.
"Is that what all this junk is for?" She nudged one of de duffel bags wit' her toe.
"Stop dat."
Of course, dat was de natural time for John's keys t' rattle in de lock. He stepped into de apartment, looked at each of us, rubbed his eyes, stepped backwards, closed de door behind him and den repeated de whole performance.
"When did our apartment turn into Union Station?" He turned on Kitty. "Who in the hell are you then?"
Kitty balled her hands into fists and jammed dem furiously against her hips. "None of your business."
"As long as I pay a third of the rent on this place it's always my business, sweetheart."
Kitty frowned. "You didn't say he was, like, such a jackass." John bared his teeth at her. "Look, you're obviously up to something." She looked pointedly at de bags on de floor. "And there's no way you can stop me from helping."
John opened his mouth, but I stopped him wit' a look.
"She's right."
"What?" Rogue burst out.
"Y' don't t'ink I like de idea of breaking in wit' four people along, do y'? Dis whole t'ing is turning into a Three Stooges movie."
"Not t' be the bearer of bad news," John said, "but if we don't get our arses moving we'll lose our opportunity ta find out what's goin' on in that house. Anne said all the big shots are at a meeting downtown tonight. Otherwise they don't leave the house." Guess dat no one made a move fast enough for him, because he grabbed a duffel bag and caught Kitty's wrist. She phased t'rough and John shot forward, caught off-balance. He muttered somet'ing under his breath dat sounded nasty.
Rogue took de other duffel bag. I shut de door behind us.
* * *
Nandi is a real street poet who hangs out in the Shaw/Howard U/U St. area. And the poem is actually hers, just to give credit where it's due.
Christy S: Yeah, St. John Rivers is a creepy character. Also, I never understood why that particular part of Jane Eyre takes, like, a million pages to finish. Since this is primarily a Rogue/Remy/John story, I can't really speak to the Lancitty. I'm sure those crazy kids'll be fine though. Can't say the same about John and Kitty. Off on the wrong foot much?
Kaosda: Dude, I wish I had a dollar for every time someone asked me about Rogue and Remy and the sexiness. I'd be so rich. The answer that I've given everyone is: no, not really. There is much you can do without having actual intercourse though and I leave it up to you to decide how much of that they did.
Tenshi Kanashii: Don't worry. I won't take it personally. If the plot's not your cup o' tea then it would be pretty hard to like the story. And it seems that you're a Pyro fan and yeah more Pyro action in this one (which was one of my super secret ulterior motives for writing anyhow, but shh! don't tell anyone). I do remember the scene where Pyro hit on Rogue. Hee. I like writing Pyro because he hasn't had much screen time on Evo and he wasn't hugely in the comics either, so I can make stuff up about him, which I like.
Chrissie: I have such issues with the movie-verse Rogue though...ugh...they Jubilee-ized her. Not that I don't like Jubes, just that bait and switch is no fair. I'm crossing my fingers that Pyro won't just be a crazy guy who likes to set fire to stuff too. Sigh.
Neurotic Temptress: Losing your mind again? Hee. I feel that the paragraph summary missed certain pertinent character-development issues, but I can totally deal. Free comic book day this Saturday! Woo! I'm saddened by the fact that Larroca isn't gonna pencil on Xtreme anymore, but I'm encouraged that Rogue and Remy are coming back from whatever comic book limbo they've been stuck in lately.
Lucky439: See, now that's what I like. So much enthusiasm. :)
Ishandahalf: Not noticing a pink living room is kind of unobservant, OTOH, my dad didn't notice the ginormous water tower behind our local Staples until we'd lived there for, like, 12 years.
Missy24: That's right! Use me as a crutch to beat other fanfic writers with! Hooray! I'm not even thinking about the absence of Remy in X2 because it makes me weep and sob loudly and then I annoy others. My point is, no kissing of the Iceman! That's my point. Lots of Rogue/Remy-ness this chapter. I have a feeling this story may go on for quite some time, so if anyone doesn't particularly feel like the long haul... Sadly, Kenshin has little to do with the story either. I just like him and his silliness and his pretty hair. In the category of "You know you're an R/R fan when" there's a song by Kosheen (sorta pop/soul/techno) with the line "Sweet, untouchable you" that never fails to remind me of R/R. So watch the dork go hide in the corner.
Panther Nesmith: I was only kidding about the whole forgetting me thing. And it had been awhile since I'd poked my head over this way. I loved that mango lady, man. I worked in Dupont a couple summers (so many bike messanger boys...drools) and it was nice to know my breakfast was waiting for me every day. There was a grape man too, but it was never quite the same...
Solitaire: Thanks! I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop since the set-up for this one is a bit more protracted than others.
B.M.Wraith: I understand about sleep-deprivation. The few all-nighters I've pulled I don't think I was writing in English by the end. It's interesting that you should bring up perspective. When I first got the idea for the first story (which was supposed to be a short-ish stand-alone!) it was always a first person thing. OTOH, if I were writing a story about Kitty, I think that I'd stick with third person. I think it works (more or less) here because the "voices" are interesting. I've learned a lot about these characters writing so close, and that was important (especially with Remy, who was a huge blank to me for a while). I'm always so thrilled to hear that anyone thinks my stuff is quotable! It's not as difficult for me to make with the snappy comebacks in real life (perils and perks of coming from a large and loud Italian family), but on paper? Not so much.
Jean1: I'm glad you like the John/Remy friendship. Sometimes I feel like it's so much projection on my part, because it definitely is the kind of thing I'd like to see my guy friends have. A lot of them have a tendency to hold other guys at arm's length and it makes me sad sometimes. Kitty is such an interesting character because I think, of all the x-men, she has her powers pretty much completely under control (am I the only one who feels like Jean is going to drop something every time she uses her TK?), but emotionally she's got a ways to go.
