Parameters for chapter 3. Rogue gets b*tch slapped by Remy and Kurt gets some lovin'. Note: I made it more of a mental thing for parameter 1 because I don't think Remy's the woman beating type.
Hung over. Merde, he was more than hung over. He was hung under, sideways, and every other ways. He groaned. His head throbbed. His body throbbed. He was in severe pain.
"Hi, Remy!" Rogue was shouting. Couldn't she see his pain?
"Kurt and I just got back from our family weekend with Mystique. She's not so bad, really, once you get to know her, though she insisted that Logan come along. I don't get it. But anyway, how are you?"
He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. "Rogue, either shut up and get some Gatorade for your amour or get the fuck out of Remy's room."
She paused. "You've been drinking again, haven't you? God, Remy, what's wrong with you? How can you do this to yourself?" She tsked, an irritating sound, and he blew up.
"Let's see here, chere. You leave Remy in Antarctica and lie to the Professor about him. Logan don't believe you and rescue Remy, and you treat him like an old pair of shoes when he get back. Remy decide he forgive you, and you walk all over him. Get out of my life! Remy need someone who care about him, who love him, who not try to kill him and then protest that she love him."
She started crying and ran out of his room. Good. He couldn't take any more of her sham cries and sobs any more.
God, he needed a drink. He already was thinking about how to apologize.
No. This time it was over. He pulled himself up blearily and headed for the kitchen. If Jubilee had taken his Gatorade again…
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Rogue ran by in the hallway outside his room, sobbing, and Kurt looked up from his lesson plans. "Rogue?"
Wanda took his hand in hers. "Go on if you need to."
He craned his neck, listening. "Kitty is seeing to her. I think I can stay." He bent his head over the plans again.
She kept her hand on his, gently stroking the back of it, raising the fur gently and watching it fall back. She'd tried to make it plain for months how she felt, but Kurt kept treating her as a friend, oblivious. Wasn't it obvious by now? The picnics, the long walks, the heart-to-hearts over their siblings' problems … she wouldn't talk with just anyone about Pietro, of course.
Would he ever notice her?
He started giggling as she played with the fur at his wrist. "Wanda, that tickles."
"Really?" She kept teasing his fur and he growled a little in play.
"I am going to have to teach you a lesson." He reached over and trapped both her wrists in one of his strong hands, then began methodically tickling her ribs with his tail.
"Kurt!" she gasped out, laughing so hard she thought she'd burst. "Please!"
"Do you give up?" His face was close to hers, nearly within range, so she leaned forward and kissed him.
He stopped tickling her, though he maintained a grip on her wrists. She pressed in, tracing his lips with her tongue, and he parted them gently, returning her tentative movements with his own.
He suddenly let go of her and pulled back, tail lashing the air. "What are you doing, Wanda?"
"It's known as kissing, Kurt. I was kissing you." She waved a finger at him, teasing. "I thought you were supposed to be the teacher here. Shouldn't you know this by now?"
"But, Wanda…" He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up. A piece stood straight up near his left temple, and she struggled not to laugh. "I should not be doing this. You have trusted me with your friendship. I should not take advantage of it."
Wanda walked to the door, closed it, locked it, then turned around. "Again, teacher, you seem to have missed something. I kissed YOU. I wanted to kiss you. I've wished you'd kiss me for months now." She stalked toward him, emphasizing her words. "I wouldn't mind if you did more, either. That tail felt pretty good once you stopped tickling me. I have to wonder what else you can do with it."
"Wanda!" Kurt nearly fell out of his chair. He had been trying to be so good. What was she doing? Could it be that she really did return his interest?
"So. What else can you do with it? Or are you going to run from me?" Her hands were planted on the arms of his chair, her legs parted over his, and he felt warm and embarrassed and lusty and trapped all at the same time.
"Ja. Perhaps you should let me up."
She stepped back and he stood, then took one step back. Her face fell and she stared at her shoes, noticing her left little toe had nearly worn through the side. "Come here."
He was sitting on his bed, eyes shining. She frowned. "Why should I?"
He smiled. "One thing I learned at the circus, liebe. If you are going to put on a performance, it must be in the proper place." His face shone with mischief and she breathed a sigh of relief, then sat next to him. He was right, after all, she thought, as she melted into his arms.