Note: As usual, italics indicate a thought if used for entire sentence.
Chapter 2
It was 7:30 AM and Remy's alarm was determined to remind him. He cursed at the rude awakening from its blaring repetitious BLEEP. The red alert in the mansion was a sonata compared to the obnoxious clamor of the small box. Finally silencing it, he stretched trying to gather his wits about him. His memories brought him back to reality and he scrambled to get out of bed. He was still in the previous night's clothes, albeit severely wrinkled.
Making his way to the bathroom to relieve himself, one glance in the mirror inside revealed a goofy sight: a disheveled man with his hair sticking up in the back and pillow print on his left cheek. Whistling, he flushed the toilet and brushed his teeth. "Remy, we got quite a day a head o' us." He said to his reflection before getting in the shower.
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Ororo was sitting at the kitchen table, the newspaper open before her as she sipped a near empty steaming cup of tea. It smelled like chai. Her silver mane was swept backwards in a loose ponytail, tendrils framing the front of her face. She was already dressed for their work out in an olive green tank top that allowed her gray sports bra to show. The shirt was just long enough to allow her khaki shorts to peek through from underneath. He knew that under those shorts she wore a tighter pair of black spandex shorts, she just didn't like walking around the mansion casually in them. "Good morning Gambit, sleep well?" she barely raised her head from the paper to acknowledge his presence. Her small glance was enough to show her he was dressed in full uniform, even though they only had a routine practice planned.
He lingered in the doorway, fiddling with the gold zippo lighter she had given him years ago. "I was 'bout to ask you de same t'ing. Dat was some wind storm last night." He watched her closely for any sign of admission on her part. His eyes' gaze was returned with blue eyes that exhibited calm lucidity.
"I wouldn't know. I slept like a baby. Goddess, you look tired." She rose from her chair, clearing her teacup and an empty plate covered in toast crumbs and deposited them in the dishwasher, unaware of his studying gaze that was fixated on her rear end in the air. "There's coffee already made and if you wish, I could make you some toast before we spar…"
"No t'anks. T' tell de truth, I don' feel much like scrappin' today. Didn' get much sleep." He rubbed a hand upside his face, his stubble making an audible scratching noise as he did, his ruby on onyx eyes nearly burning a hole through her.
She turned to face him and sighed with annoyance, rolling her eyes, "Were you up thinking about her again?"
"Not her, but a 'her'." He got a reaction this time, her body stiffened and he suppressed a smile.
"Well I suppose that's progress." She smiled weakly, turmoil in her blue eyes. "If you're not up to the Danger Room today, I will not force you but I am and must get a start on my day, excuse me." She started to walk through the doorway he was occupying and he raised an arm, preventing her exit. "Remy, please…" she didn't meet his eyes.
"Jus' wanted t' let y' know I won' leave my Stormy high n' dry. I'll be down in a minute."
"Of course." She paused a second, expecting him to drop his arm before finally looking at him. "Are you going to let me pass?"
"What's de password?" He had that Cheshire grin on his face. The one that made her melt but she loathed it so much right now for it making her feel as she did.
"I should kill you where you stand…"
"Good e'nough." He dropped his hand, allowing her to exit. "I'll be down after I smoke."
She wrinkled her nose. "You and your smelly habit."
"Aw, its my signature, chère."
"Indeed." She smiled softly before finally leaving. With quiet amusement, he watched her turn the corner towards the elevator. Ororo was putting up a good front but he was working his way under her skin.
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Once out on the back terrace, he collapsed in a chair, his leg hanging over the armrest, lost in thought once again.
"You gonna smoke that or just let it burn out?" Logan's gruff voice startled Remy and he dropped his cigarette on to the shale surface.
"Dammit, Logan!" he muttered as he retrieved it.
Logan laughed and puffed on his cigar a bit. "You're jumpy this morning. What's the story?"
"Ain't it a li'l early fo' a cigar? I t'aught dey were fo' after dinner o' soemt'ing." Gambit evaded answering the man's question.
Logan's eyebrow raised at the weak barb. "Come on, I got my scotch." He raised his glass filled with amber liquid, the ice clinking on the side. If it were anyone else, Gambit would've been appalled at the liquor this early in the morning but with Wolverine, it barely even phased him. He'd seen the man down a bottle of tequila and eviscerate the Juggernaut in the Danger Room. A Scotch was nothing. "And while we're regulating smoke breaks, shouldn't cigarettes be saved for after sex, gumbo?"
"Touché" he exhaled smoke through his nose. "Logan, c'n I ask y' some'ting dat may be a bit… awkward?"
"Depends, if you're about to profess yer undyin' love t' me, ferget it." He jested.
Remy smiled. "Non. I'm past dat point in my life. Al'tough, sometimes…"
"Cut it out. What do you want to talk about?"
"Suppose you saw some'ting you weren't supposed too… but dat some'ting was about you. What would you do?"
Wolverine squinted in the sunlight, "Well it's hard to say, you're not giving me much of a situation to work with here."
Remy took a thoughtful drag on his dying cigarette, trying to word the situation in his head so as not to sell out Ororo. "What if someone told y' a lady said yo' name in an intimate moment… but you weren't de one she was bein' intimate wit'?"
Wolverine nearly inhaled his cigar and produced a mixed gurgle of choked laughter. "I would feel sorry for the sucker in her bed and mighty proud o' myself."
He glared at the shorter man. "Dat don' help me none."
Logan sobered up and observed the frustration on the Cajun's face. "Does this have to do with 'Ro?"
Remy became tense and tried to play it off, "Who d' y' think Ororo would have up in her room? De woman's been a saint since Forge happened two years ago."
"Not to be vulgar but my nose tells me you're wrong and my gut tells me you're lyin'. The past two months all I've smelled on her is sex and your damn cloves. I assumed it was none of my damn business but why are you out here asking me such an odd question?"
"Two months? Whoa…" Remy nervously ran a hand through his damp hair and his hand holding the cigarette trembled. "Two months?Mon Dieu. I must be dense."
"Why so surprised? I never figured her for the forgettable type…" Wolverine sneered impishly.
Remy stepped back and scanned the yard to make sure no one was around before he bent down and whispered to Wolverine, his eyes wild with his nervousness. "Y' don't understand, Logan. I have never laid a han' on Ororo in dat way. I'm going to give you t'ree clues an' I'll let you draw yo' own conclusion. There was a wind storm last night, she was burnin' clove incense, and I saw some'ting at 2 in de morning' in her attic dat involved a hand wit' my name, comprendre?" He knew he had hit home with the older man as he stood stone faced, gray eyes perfectly round in silent shock.
Remy snuffed out the cigarette and discarded it. He felt guilty having shared Ororo's private secret but he assumed it was better than Ororo being accused of actually screwing him. People would definitely talk less and Logan wasn't one to gossip so he knew the word would not get past him.
Logan went to talk, and then shut his mouth. He felt at a loss for words. Finally, he found his voice, "That's… interesting." He cleared his throat, "Ah, does she know you…"
"None dat I c'n tell. Y' know me. I teased her dis morning, subtly, tryin' t' get her to show some'ting. De woman's a stone pillar. Sapristi! It's frustratin' as hell, mon ami. But, I got t' go. We gotta slot in de Danger Room at 8:30." He turned to leave but was stopped as the older man grabbed his arm.
"Remy…"
"What?"
"How do you feel about her?"
The question actually confused Remy. He had never considered Ororo as more than a friend. But that was mostly due to her showing no interest in him whatsoever in the ways of romance. She had been a steadfast companion, partner in crime, and enjoyable presence. He'd had his head buried so far up Rogue's figurative ass he had never considered Ororo an attainable possibility. "Y' know? I'm not sure. Let me get back t' y' on dat."
"Just so we're clear, if yer not sure yet, don't you dare call her out on anything. Ororo's more fragile than she seems and as long as she's keepin' her crush to herself, per se, she ain't harmin' anything, got it, bub?"
"Oui." The shorter man released his arm and Remy went inside, leaving Logan with his cigar, scotch, and his thoughts.
Logan shook his head with a smirk at Remy disappearing inside, "Lucky bastard,"
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Author's note:
French words:
Chère- dear, darling
Comprendre- Comprehend
Sapristi: Good heavens
Ou:- yes
I know Wolvie and Remy aren't best friends but they share a common one- and out of all the other choices for him to run into that are male: Beast, Iceman, Angel, Cyclops, Nightcrawler, or Colossus, who even came close to making as much sense? Exactly.
Next Chapter: Trickster
Ps- this will probably be updated randomly as I'm trying to get one chapter out a week for one of several stories I've got going. Blame my neurotic muses.
