Dismal Angel 2010 - Episode 2
Chapter 3: A Private Moment
Rogue parked her truck in the garage, the radio falling silent as she let the engine die, the windscreen was flecked with snow, the moment they'd pulled into the gates of the Xavier estate a soft drifting snowfall had begun to come down upon the truck.
They climbed out, Rogue shut the door and locked the truck, they were surprised to turn and see Remy not so far away, kneeling by an old broken down motorbike that had remained there for the past eight years but had never truly worked. Rogue had forgotten about it, it had almost seemed like part of the garage itself it had remained so long, something thaws simply there that was never noticed anymore.
Remy was topless, dirt marks on his back, and some oily fingerprint upon his shoulder, his hair tied back carelessly so that one half of his ponytail was folded over and sticking out at an odd angle, while the rest hung freely down his back. Rogue and Kitty glanced to each other, but neither woman said anything.
Kitty rested her backside against the hood of the truck, "that thing hasn't run in like forever," she said as if this were something Remy didn't know, "You'll never get it workin'," she added casually.
Remy snorted a little and glanced over his shoulder at Kitty, "just 'cause somethin' hasn't been in action for a while doesn't mean its past fixin', petit," he grunted, he glanced over to Rogue pointedly, then went back to what he was doing. Kitty had the distinct feeling he'd been drinking all day, his tone had the same slight slur to it that he'd had since she'd seen him out by the lake.
Kitty looked at him, "Professor Xavier would probably help you buy a new one, I mean… we'd all help put money towards one, it's the lease we could do after all we put you through…" she suggested, trying to sound friendly and caring.
"I could steal a brand new one tonight if I wanted, petit, but I'd rather fix up this one," Remy retorted, grabbing a wrench from a nearby toolbox and beginning to remove a mechanism from the bike.
Kitty shrugged at Rogue, then yawned, "well, I'm gonna hit the sack," she said, she headed towards the door leading into the Mansion itself, Rogue following slowly, every now and then throwing a sideways glance at Remy curiously.
Rogue paused, "I left my jacket in the truck…" she suddenly realised.
Kitty smiled knowingly, it seemed to have been almost deliberate, and Rogue could have retrieved the jacket any time. Kitty was positive that Rogue wanted to fall back so she could have a private moment with Remy. "Night," Kitty grinned, and she left at a quicker pace.
Rogue headed back to the truck, she unlocked the door and leaned into grab her jacket from where she'd tossed it onto the back seat earlier that night.
"You got a small screw driver?" she heard Remy's voice call over to her, she accidentally bumped her head against the roof of the car and made a face, it seemed to have been the first thing he'd said to her since the trial.
"Hmm?" She came back out of the truck, and rested her arm against the open door, looking at him with a peculiar expression.
"A small screwdriver...." Remy repeated.
Rogue wasn't sure how to respond really, "I…uhm…maybe."
Remy stood up, wiping his hands on a rag, "do you think you can maybe go look?" he raised an eyebrow, his eyes meeting hers, the way he was looking at her made her feel like a little girl, just a foolish little girl.
Rogue quickly headed to the trunk of the truck, and unlocked it, she leaned down into it, searching through the toolbox she always kept in the truck in case of emergency, "uhm…I got loads here…" she trailed off, she felt Remy's presence behind her, and felt him lean down, his chest slightly pressed against her back as he reached forward and took hold of one of the small star-tipped screwdrivers from her toolbox.
"This will do," he breathed near her ear, his breath warm against her lobe, and the scent of beer from him started to overwhelm her, she felt her legs weaken, she had to hold onto the truck for support. She told herself off for allowing herself to let that little sliver of brief contact, and the feeling of his hot breath against her ear actually stir her the way it had once seven years ago.
He moved away as suddenly as he'd come over, heading over to the bike as if nothing had happened, Rogue was tempted to ask what he thought he was doing acting like that towards her, it was almost as if nothing had ever happened seven years ago. She shivered, and hugged herself as a cold feeling came all over her, she stood watching him inquisitively.
What's goin' on in his mind? She wondered, studying every single movement. She remembered the last time she'd seen him work on this bike, it had been the day of his daughters funeral. Sadly, Rogue realised if Gabrielle had not died, she'd be seven years old, and she wondered somewhat if she'd even look like Remy, or if at all Gabrielle might like her as a surrogate mother.
Remy was quite aware he was being watched, he'd rather she didn't, he'd spent enough time being looked at in that strange suspicious way by everyone else, and she was the last straw, "what are you lookin' at me like that for?" he asked, trying to keep his tone, "don't tell me after seven years you still find me irresistible to look at," he turned back to pay attention to what he was doing.
Rogue felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as he said these words, and she swallowed her nervousness, "don't flatter yourself, LeBeau," she said firmly, "you got about as much charm as a housefly and you have absolutely no effect on me."
"If you say so," Remy responded, quite amused. "A housefly, eh?"
"Oh you know, in that same way a housefly buzzes around gettin' in peoples way and you can't quite get rid of it no matter how hard you swing the newspaper at it…" Rogue explained smugly.
Remy kept his back to her, but he was grinning so wide in his amusement he was sure even the back of his head must have been showing it. He composed himself, remembering their situation, no matter how much she still enticed him, no matter how beautiful she still was and no matter how much her humour appealed to him, he still had to remind himself she had labelled him a murderer.
"As I recall, no one's been swinging newspapers in Remy's direction today," Remy remarked sounding more smug than even Rogue had, "throwin' dirty looks maybe."
"If looks could kill…" Rogue began, "You'd be six feet under by now," she felt rather impressed by her own quick wit.
"If looks were sex, I'd get laid a hundred times a day," Remy remarked, and this time his comment afterwards was a direct attempt to jar her, his eyes met hers and he gave his sexiest grin, "but t'be honest, I don't need looks for that."
Rogue's mouth fell open in a small 'o'. She recomposed herself quickly, and drew her breath, "I find that hard to believe, considerin' it took you over a year to even touch me," she smirked, "You've probably slept with three women in the last seven years," Rogue mused.
Remy looked at her, "I lost count of the number of women I've had," he remarked gleefully, he got up, wiping his hands on the dirty rag again, "do you want to add to that rather large number?"
"In your dreams, LeBeau," Rogue shot back at him, her eyes narrowing and her brows knitting into a frown.
Remy's reaction was quick, he feigned a look of shock "who told you about those?" he mused, and walked off, leaving the garage all together through the doorway leading into a mansion hallway.
Rogue frowned, she was definitely going to have to do something about Remy LeBeau's attitude if he was going to be staying here much longer, she ran out after him, he heard her footsteps behind him and slowed down to a stop, "You are still a senseless narcissistic asshole!" she wanted to get out every single bad thing she'd ever thought about him in the last seven years, but she had a feeling that might take all night. Despite his innocence, she wasn't about to just forgive him – he had still run out on her, and that was something that was unforgivable – and in Rogue's opinion, deserved about as much punishment as he should have received if he had been guilty of murder.
"Thank you," he turned and grinned at her as if she'd just complimented him, he gave one of his infamous gracious bows, his hair spilling over his bare shoulder as he did so.
"Quit your smart assed attitude, or I'm gonna shove my foot right up your ass!" Rogue fumed, stepping closer to him, she wanted to hit him, but something held her back. Maybe it was the thought of what the others might think if she did. Or maybe it was her own mind telling her that if she hit him, it would only show she was letting him get under her skin.
"Who told you I'm into that?" he feigned another shocked expression, and then smirked, "night, Rogue," he sang in a sing song, then wandered off into the darkness of the hallway, out of sight completely, leaving Rogue with her eyes and mouth wide open, she couldn't believe she'd let him have the last word. She frowned, he was more infuriating than he'd ever been. She kicked a potted plant in the hallway that was standing in the way of a beam of moonlight from a nearby window, she watched it tip over, earth spilling out.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath, and sighed, kneeling down to clean the mess up.