Kiss The Sheila

by Foxy-Glove

ROMY! The answer to the question everyone's been asking, Doesn't that boy have a keepah or somethin?

Kiss The Sheila

Alright, this fic is the answer to the question "What happens when you combine two Southerners, an Aussie, and me?". The answer is, of course, a hell of a lot of baaaaadly written accents. Xx

Actually, this was pretty fun to write. I think I may make it into a series once my personal stress level decreases.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. If you don't recognize it, I do, or I don't and you just don't recognize it.

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Things were begining to really look up for Remy. Somehow or another he had managed to talk Rogue into a very romantic boat ride in which it was just the two of them. All alone. At night under the stars. All alone. With fried chicken for later. Not his first choice, but he was worried anything more romantic would get him thrown overboard. All in all, he figured he was in for a very good night. It might have been better if she wasn't keeping as much distance between them as possible, but she was in a boat so at least she could only go so far.

And did I mention they were all alone?

"Percussion."

"Swamp Rat, ya hear that?" Of course not, he was busy thinking about how pretty her voice sounded. "Swamp Rat."

"Pardon?"

"Neva-"

"Strings."

"What was dat?"

"That's what Ah just asked you! Keep up!"

"Winds."

"Remy tinks he knows dat voice."

"Why am Ah not surprised."

"Words."

'Merde.' Remy thought, panicing mentally and raising one of the oars in preperation to attack the unwanted guest. 'Merde! Pas lui! Viccy s'posed to be watchin' 'im!'

Unfortunetly, it was indeed him, as St. John himself suddenly jumped onto the side of the boat in snorkling gear, knocking the Southerners off balance and sending Remy into the water.

"There you see 'er,
Sittin' there across the way,
She don't got a lot to say
But there's somethin' about 'er.
And you don' know why,
But you're dyin' to try,
Ya wanna kiss the sheila."

Suddenly John was jerked back underwater and Remy popped up in his place, gasping for breath.

"Y'all right?" Remy nodded and between the two of them they got him about halfway into the boat before John popped up again on the other side.

"Yes, you wan'er,
Look at 'er you know ya do,
Possible she wants ya too,
There is one way to ask 'er.
It don' take a word,
Not a single word,
Go on and kiss the sheila."

Rogue stopped pulling Remy back in and grabbed the oar out of the water, raising it above her head menacingly. John quickly pushed himself out of reach and calmly continued amid threats to his life.

"Shalalalalala
My oh my,
Looks like the boy too shy,
Ain't gonna kiss the sheila."

"Remy is not! You take dat back!"

"Do you wanna get hit wi' this?" Rogue threatened, aiming the oar at him. He cowered and let her continue in her quest to get Johnny closer to the boat, still stuggling to get himself in it without help.

"Shalalalalala
Ain't that sad?
Ain't it a shame? Too bad,
Mate's gonna miss the sheila."

Finally getting close enough, Rogue swung down the oar and smacked the Aussie in the stomach, sennding him floundering back underwater.

Pulling Remy in fullway, Rogue started to row them both back to shore when something grabbed the oar right out her hands. Snarling, Rogue almost dove in after it.

"Just humor 'im, petite," Remy advised, pulling back his lovely lady before she ended up in the water too. "Only a few more verses t' go."

"Now's yer moment,
Floatin' in a blue lagoooon,
Mate, you'd better do it soon,
No time'd be better.
She don't say a word,
And she won't say a word,
Until ya kiss the sheila."

Serenaded by the croonings of the out of sight Aussie, the two Southerners languidly floated along the body of water (since 'someone' had swam off with the only oar), one trying to act pissed while holding back out-of-character giggles, the other scuttling a little closer to his ange with every verse.

"Shalalalalala
Don' be scared,
Ya got the moves prepared,
Go on and kiss the sheila."

"De fou got 'is bonne ideés, non?"

"Non."

"Shalalalalala
Don't stop now,
Don't try to hide it, how
You wanna kiss the sheila."

"If Ah find out ya planned- Do Ah need to put up police tape or somethin'? Stay on yer own damn side."

"Shalalalalala
Float along,
And listen to the song,
The song says kiss the sheila."

"But chere, you be comme du l'air, Remy need to be close to 'is belle femme."

"Nice analogy. What're ya gonna do, breathe meh? ...You'd bettah not be smellin' mah hair, Swamp Rat."

"Shalalalala
The music play,
Do what the music say,
Ya gotta kiss the sheila."

"Don't that boy have a keepah or somethin'?"

"Ya gotta kiss the sheila."

"Ya know, petite, we could always shut him up de easy way and just- OW!"

"Go on and kiss the sheila."

"Mah Gawd, it's lawk the thing that wouldn' shut up!"

"Ya gotta kiss the sheila."

"Petite?"

"What?"

"Go on and kiss the sheila."

And he did.

When he regained conciousness about an hour later, he found himself all alone in the boat in the middle of the body of water, all alone save for the night time chill and the crickets. All alone. He assumed Rogue was safely ashore and instead dove for the picnic basket they had brought along.

"Well, least de petite wont let Remy starve."

In the end, he huddled all alone into his coat and used his hands to paddle back to shore.

And did I mention he was all alone?

Well, maybe not as alone as Remy would've liked.

"Ya just hadtakiss the sheila."

"Aw, shudup!"

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(shrugs) All I've really wanted to say is up top, so nothing left now but to remind you to review, wallow in self pity at school starting in two days (I'll try to squeeze another fic in in that time), and shiver at the all too familiar feeling of my fingerss freezeeinmg too oothhe kkkeyyyybooarrrd....