One Shot of Bourbon
A/N: Forgive me for formatting problems, this is my first posting. If you do not understand something, either drop me an email, review, or wait until I update for it will probably be covered. I hate OOCness, so if you catch me committing an act that heinous, please inform me. Other than that, enjoy. 'R' rating is for possible future content.
Remy downed another shot and smacked his glass on the dingy table with a thunk. The little Southern belle before him incoherently rambled on and on as he made a farce of paying attention. Remy gave up trying a couple minutes ago to understand what she was saying through the pleasant haze the alcohol gave him. Her buzzing voice stopped assailing his ears as two long lanky arms encircled her covered shoulders. The possessor of the arms slowly lowered his charming mouth to her ear and whispered something inaudible to the Cajun studying the flaws in his glass. Remy cocked an eyebrow as the pretty mouth moved away from the belle's ear and left the poor girl a blush that the poor lighting barely hid. Piercing blue eyes smiled into the Cajun's crimson ones as that pretty mouth said, "I'm terrible sorry to interrupt your little chat," (the way he said it implied that he knew Remy wasn't listening), "but I was just wondering if any of you had seen Allerdyce. It wouldn't do for him to put this sorry place out of its miserable existence."
The little belle shifted in her seat. Plainly she was uncomfortable with any mention of 'him'. She plaintively whined, "But Bobby, why must you go searching for him. Aren't Ah good enough for you? Besides, Logan said he'd evisserkate that punk if he ever caught wind of him acting out of line." Remy noticed the whine being replaced by adoration as soon as the word 'Logan' left her black lipsticked lips. He wanted to laugh. The girl couldn't even properly say eviscerate. Remy signaled the passing curvaceous waitress for another shot.
Something flittered over Bobby's face, indecisiveness or disgust Remy didn't know, before he muttered some lovey-doey lie and directed his possessive girlfriend over to an unknown destination. Remy was more than relieved to see the girl leave; he thought she never would. He closed his eyes and let the music flow over him. A frown graced his devilish face. True it was jazz, but it was forced jazz. The notes and rhythms were right, but the out of tune saxophone was just playing it. The saxophone protested to this cold, emotionless human being forcing what was once good music out of it by squeaking at inopportune moments. Remy let out a miniscule sigh. Jazz just isn't what it used to be.
Remy smelled the strangely pleasing mix of leather, smoke, and lighter fluid and heard the slap of shoelaces and sneakers dancing along on the parquet before the cocky voice cut through the comforting alcoholic haze to bounce around in his ears, "Why LeBeau, I see you've taken measures to make sure you don't have to listen to my dear friend's significant other." Remy cocked one eye open and sure enough, saw the fiery St. John Allerdyce sliding into the seat that Marie had evicted mere minutes ago. Still with one eye closed, Remy carefully drawled out, "Why mon ami, what big words. Did you practice that speech before you decided to infringe upon Remy's personal space?"
The resounding clunk of the bodacious waitress slamming down his replacement shot opened up Remy's other eye. John smirked at the skimpy outfit the girl was wearing and sweetly asked for one too. The girl just rolled her eyes and left with her ample hips swinging. The Cajun wrapped his callused fingers around the cool feel of the glass and silently whispered a prayer to whoever was up there to strike the soulless saxophone player down. John gave the waitress a cheshshire cat smile as she nearly put a dent in the already pitted table by forcefully placing the shot on the table. John slowly swirled his glass around as he stared at Remy. The Cajun saw the lust slowly infect John's glare. Remy just shrugged it off. He knew how to deal with lust. But when he focused on John again, the fire-mutant's eyes were looking across the smoky room. Remy let his eyes shift around to try and get a glimpse of what John was staring at. His calculating eyes fell upon those lanky arms around that shallow girl's shoulder. When his eyes shifted back across the table, he caught traces of bitterness and possibly, could it be, love tugging at the corners of those expressive eyes.
But those emotions had been locked away when John looked back into Remy's eyes. With a slight shrug of his leather clad shoulders, the Cajun accepted the challenge shining in John's eyes. His shrug said to John, "Sure, I'll sleep with you," and John's nodding in reply said, "Damn straight you will." What did it matter to him? The boy was attractive enough and there weren't many carefree hotties in this oppressive hell of Xavier's making. The look of bitterness etched in the fire mutants eyes tugged on his conscience, but Remy brushed it aside. Remy raised his glass and said, "Remy proposes a toast to the night."
John clinked his glass with Remy's and downed the potent liquor. As the fiery liquid burned a pathway down his throat, John coughed and shouted, "Jesus LeBeau! How can you just down that stuff?" As observant as Remy prided himself on being, he never noticed that the coughing hid the lone tear than left a sparkling trail down his face. John scrubbed the tear away with the sleeve of his jacket and placed the glass on the table as he imperceptibly whispered to himself, "Thank god for one night stands."