Chapter 6

Remy waited several minutes before leaving his room; passing the time by smoking a cigarette on his perch in the window. He had no idea what Rogue was talking about, him lying to her, well not in the manner she implied. She admitted she knew there was another woman (and there wasn't), which only complicated things because there was no way she would know about his deceit, yet somehow, she suspected something was amiss. He to clear up this whole joke blown out of proportion before one of the femme's killed him.

"As de X turns…" he grimaced through puffs of smoke. Resigning it was safe to join the living, he charged the weakening cigarette and tossed it out the window, it vanishing in a puff of smoke. It was time to go see Ororo and tell her the good news. He chose a more normal approach than last time and headed for her door down the hall.

When he knocked on her door, he was disappointed to be met with only silence. Turning the old brass knob, he found it was locked. He knocked once more out of politeness and still only receiving silence, went to work unlocking the skeleton key lock. He hated these types of locks because despite being so simple, they were nothing short of a pain in the- CLICK!

The lock turned and he opened the door, "Stormy, y' better get yo' self decent o' I can not be held responsible fo' my actions…" He called up as he climbed the stairs.

A quick survey of the room revealed that Ororo was not inside. The bathroom door was wide open and dark. The loft was deathly quiet except for the dripping of the sink by her plants and the breeze from the open skylight. She must have flown out after he and Rogue left. With soft, solid footsteps, he walked over to it and twisted the handle, stopping the leak.

He could wait for her to come back, he had nothing else to do.

His eyes darted around the room, taking in everything that was hers. Approaching the gray marble topped antique vanity, covered with her bric-a-brac, his attention became focused on photo strip wedged in the side of the mirror. He pulled it out and immediately recognized it as from the photo booth at the mall and laughed.

In the first photo, he and Storm had their fingers in their mouths, stretching their cheeks with their tongues sticking out and crossing their eyes.

The second one showed Ororo jokingly having a finger about to pick her nose but Remy kissing her cheek while casting an 'I'm going to get killed for this' look to the camera. Sure enough, the third photo captured her mouth wide with a mixture of surprise and anger directed at him, but an over exaggerated grin on his face, like a child proud of a job well done.

The last picture of the strip, Ororo had reached down between his knees to grab her purse off the floor, having believed they were done, and the camera went off. Remy knew there was one more photo but never being one to miss out on an opportunity, stared at the ceiling with a satisfied smirk on his face. That expression combined with only the back of her head over his lap, a cloud of silver hair hiding what looked like a less than innocent pose, provided a very funny sight.

He still loved recalling the expression on her face when the pictures printed out and she saw the first photo. Shock, amusement, and mortification all rolled into one. Remy found it funny how controlled Ororo was around the X-men but how easily he was able to pull her out of 'goddess mode,' as he affectionately put it, and get his Stormy.

Returning the pictures to their place, he walked over to her four poster bed. Arms outstretched he belly flopped onto the bed and crawled up to rest his head on her pillows. The scent of fabric softener, mingled with sandalwood and her shampoo filled his senses, relaxing him as he watched the breeze from the open skylight play with the white curtains of the canopy.

He never understood why her room was so comfortable. Even for someone like him who couldn't sleep with an unlocked window, despite all of hers being wide open, he was never more relaxed than when he was in Ororo's room.

Gradually, his eyelids grew heavy, reminding him of his lack of sleep from last night and the mounting stress of today. Giving in to fatigue, he drifted off to sleep.

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Over lunch at a local Italian bistro, the three ladies reminisced over tiramisu and Italian ices on the ristorante's outdoor patio, under the shade of an umbrella Although having ulterior motives all the same, Jean Grey and Elizabeth Braddock enjoyed having Anna's company after such a long absence. It was the most humane and least obvious way the girls could think of to get Rogue out of the mansion and away from Remy for the day, thus, hopefully, letting Ororo talk to him.

"Ah'm so glad you gals forced me into this." Rogue said between sips of her drink. "Ah've missed this. Gets kinda lonely down home. No family to put up with but at the same time, no family to put up with you."

"Oh. Yeah. The X-men have their problems, no denying that, but it is family. Drive you crazy and keep you sane." Jean nodded.

"So, Rogue, are you coming back for good? I'm dying to know what you and Gumbo talked about..." Psylocke asked, unabashed at the invasiveness of the question.

"Ah dunno. Truth be told, Ah've thought about it but mah heart might not be in it without Gambit." She paused for a moment and then leaned back in her chair to gauge the women's faces, "Is he seein' Storm?"

Betsy began choking on her beverage, garnering stairs as she wheezed rather over dramatically; and Jean promptly stuffed her mouth with Tiramisu, giving herself time to plan her words.

"Ah'm takin' that as a yes..." Anna's eyes narrowed. "Why the hell can't anyone tell me this stuff t' mah face?"

"No..." wheezed Betsy, trying to gain her composure, "I mean... Jean? Help me here, doll."

"Well to answer your first question, no, they are not an item. To answer your second, if they were, you being his ex would warrant some sensitivity of the subject."

"Then who is this mystery woman?"

"What woman?" Jean exchanged worried glances with Elisabeth. In speculation, they had assumed it was Remy just joking around and Ororo taking it seriously. Was it possible there was a third woman?

"Bloody man-whore…" Betsy thought.

Rogue tucked a lock of hair behind ear. "Ah don't know, Ah was in his room, askin' him if there was any chance fo' us again but Remy mentioned he was seein' some gal but he refused to tell me her name. Storm was all awkward when Ah asked about him, he sneaked out o' his bedroom window to avoid me.

"Ah figured old habits died hard and found him in 'Ro's room, her lookin' a bit put out when Ah arrived. Ah ain't stupid and since all signs pointed to one thing, Ah assumed they were... you know."

"No… though wouldn't that be interesting?" Psylocke's eyes lit up, seeing her opportunity to change the turn of the conversation. "They've only gotten closer since you left."

"Betsy, please, that is so rude…"

"No, Jean. It's alright. I'd like to hear this." Rogue took a sip of her drink and implored the woman to continue. She was grateful to hear anything to clarify the whole mess.

Psylocke, never one to withhold the truth, nor exactly what she thought, was happy to divulge. "Well, despite the being joined at the hip and the disgustingly platonic late night slumber-parties, this just happened this morning, and I'm going to explode if I keep it to myself. I haven't even told you this, Red…"

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Ororo soared into her room, a slight thump announcing her return. She had forgotten her purse and having decided to spoil herself at a spa and purchase a new outfit for the night, it was rather important. No sooner did she land did her eyes rest on Gambit lying in her bed.

"Gambit, what are you doing in here?" She called, receiving no answer. "Is he asleep?" she thought, carefully approaching the bed. Her caution was well warranted, having seen this situation before and many a time having been on the receiving end of a pillow projectile from the deceptive man.

This time, however, Remy was out cold; eyes shut lightly, and his breathing slow and steady. He rested curled up on his side, clutching one of her pillows to him, the bottom half of his face buried into it. The sun was slowly creeping across the bed and would soon reach his face, most likely waking him.

With childish impulse, Ororo wanted to give him a rude awakening, if anything just to see those red eyes blazing with annoyed amusement but she recalled his mention of a late night and sensibility persevered. She reached out and with a feather light touch from her delicate brown fingers, brushed a lock of his auburn hair out of his face and leaned forward, kissing his forehead, receiving a slight, unintelligible moan in acknowledgement.

Smiling, she stepped back and untied the gauzy curtains around the bed's posts, pulled them across their rails to meet in the middle of the bed, thus blocking the advancing rays of the sun from reaching him.

Leaving the temptation to stay and curl up with him, she grabbed what she came for and left soundlessly.

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"Oh. Mah. Gawd!" Rogue's southern drawl cut the silence after Psylocke's revelation of the Danger Room that morning.

"Why didn't you tell me that!" Jean asked.

"Well, after I told you I saw the two practically snogging you practically pulled my arm out of the socket as you bolted for the third floor, my shoulder is ungodly sore by the way."

"You didn't tell me they were playing strip… whatever the heck it is they were playing. Good, lord Betsy! What part of half naked didn't seem important to divulge!"

Anna started laughing, slowly at first until it overtook her and tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away and struggled to catch her breath. "Mah God, listen to you two! Gossipin' like a bunch of old biddies and cat fightin' like school girls. You are grown women right?"

"Your point?" Betsy asked.

Rogue rolled her eyes and sighed, "No offense to you, Betsy, but it has become clear to me that you're only interested in this for the shock value and Jean, I know you have good intentions but things like this just have to work out on their own- you can't force this kind of thing.

Rogue's words sobered the two women, forcing them to evaluate their motives and measures' carefully. "That bein' out of the way, 'Yes, I will back off,'" Anna stated flatly. "Don't look at me like that. Elizabeth, you were right. Ah was the one that dumped Remy. When ah truly reflect on why ah came up here, Ah'm at a loss because Ah can't even think of a single good reason to get back with him except familiarity. It wouldn't be easy for me to see them together but… if they could be happy together, Ah'd be happy for them. What kind of woman would Ah be if Ah hated my friends for bein' happy together?"

"A normal one?" Psylocke offered

"Betsy, Jean, please. Fo' the sake of both o' them, keep your noses out of it. Let fate run its course. The fact remains, y' don't even know who that woman is he's seein'."

Elizabeth scoffed. "Imagine, being curtailed by the ex with a broken heart."

"Ah will dismiss that as a remark to avoid the fact that you know Ah'm right. Remy and Ro are big kids. They might be strugglin' uphill to admit their feelin's but they don't need a push."

"Whatever." Murmured Psylocke, other ideas in her head. It was painful watching those two flounder around aimlessly when it was so plain to everyone around them, and she had a deliciously wicked plan, even if it meant martyring herself in the process. "So, anyone else realize its karaoke night at Harry's?"

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Ororo finished re-dressing, disappointed she was still too tense even after an hour long aromatherapy massage session. She glanced at the clock and despite having run around the mall and her down time, it was only 3:30. She began to gather her things and head to the front counter to pay when she overheard one of the staff complaining to the receptionist about being stood up by a client again.

The man venting was roughly her age, of thin build with blonde hair and green eyes. He spoke in a husky, feminine alto with a British accent. "Hullo, legs, I'm Donovan." He said, eyeing her up and down when she approached. "I have an opening for a 3:30 beauty consultation if you're interested."

"My name is Ororo," she corrected, mulling over the idea, noting that the remark was not a come on by any stretch and gave in to impulse. "Ok." She said softly, "But not anything drastic."

"Hon, it would be a federal crime to try and cover up what you have" He said as he led her to his station in the other room.

"Make up is supposed to be an enhancer, not a mask. Now, if half my clients had your canvas for me to work with, then I could stick with that philosophy. The real challenge here is creating a palette from scratch for your unique features." He began to search through a list of shade colors on his desk.

"Is it a problem?" Ororo asked tentatively as she took her seat. Even if her white hair and blue eyes were not a mutation but a mystical genetic trait, she had been shunned before because of it.

"Nonsense." he said huffily placing his hands on his hips. "Sweetie, look at me. Do I look to be in a position to judge?" Ororo took a good look at him, noting the tight leather pants and black t-shirt, not to mention the 'pride' keychain on his belt loop, lip gloss and noticeable lisp. She smiled. "Good girl. Now talk to me before I get bored out of my mind."

As Donovan went to work on her, she felt better being able to vent her predicament, sans a few personal details, without having to worry about the invasive interventions of 'well meaning' friends. It was more therapeutic than the massage had been.

He listened carefully, offering small tidbits of insight, throughout Ororo's tale and scolded her when she pulled out a picture of Remy from her purse. "Good God, woman! That is still available and wandering loose? The things I could teach him…" he sighed wistfully while he dusted bronzer on her cheeks with a kabuki brush.

She couldn't help but laugh, "Donovan, if you touch him I will rip your hair out."

"You misunderstand, he's handsome yes, but alas, I prefer bears. They're cuddlier."

"Bears? What!"

He grinned, "The Tom Selleck type, you know, hairy muscley barrel chested man's man types."

"Oh! I have one of those too." She said, face lighting up. She pulled out a photo of Logan which caused Donovan to squeal with delight like a girl.

"He isn't by chance…" he raised an eyebrow.

She shook her head at the thought. Logan was the most adamantly masculine man in the mansion. "No, but you may keep the photo if you want."

"Like I'd pass that up," He said wedging the picture in the mirror over his work station. "I'll keep it there to give me something to wish for… and to make the others jealous." He whispered slyly.

"Well, Ororo, I think we are finished. "If he didn't find you a knock out before, he's going to get hit with a sledgehammer when he sees you now." He spun the chair for Ororo to look at the results of the last half hour.

Storm was left speechless at the transformation. A simple thin line of black eyeliner and an eyelash curler enhanced the almond shape of her eyes and a subtle sheer brown eye shadow, just shades darker than her skin, sparkled on her lids, bringing out the blue of her irises. The candy pink lip gloss that Ororo had shown doubts over had actually blended nicely on her lips, giving them a warm, subtle tint. A bronzer brushed on the apples of her cheeks, chin and top of her forehead gave her an ethereal glow.

"Donovan, you are a miracle worker." She managed.

"Just doin' my job, love. Now make him eat his heart out."

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Remy heard soft footsteps and recognized it as Ororo's bare feet on the wood floor. She was humming quietly to herself. When he opened his eyes, he noticed the curtain panels drawn around him and the setting sun's orange rays reaching to the opposite end of the room. How long had he been out? "Stormy? What time is it?" he yawned groggily.

He could make out her approaching shape through the filmy panels and the curtains parted, Ororo smiling at him, there was something different about her he couldn't quite identify- her eyes appeared more intense and her cocoa skin had a soft radiance.

"If it isn't sleeping beauty, fresh from a century's long nap. It is a few minutes past 6."

He stretched, "Y' shouldn't have let me sleep dat long. I wanted t' talk t' you."

"You seem to forget I control the weather, I am no telepath. You looked so peaceful I couldn't bring myself to. Not that it didn't cross my mind, the things I wanted to do to you in your sleep."

He chuckled, "Somet'ing tells me it's not what I would have in mind…"

"We shall never know, the moment has passed"

"Stormy…"

"Storm." She corrected. "What?"

"Dis morning… in de kitchen, when I told y' bout dat femme?"

Her jaw tensed and the joy in her face waned, "Yes?"

"T'was a joke. I was teasin.' She don' exist so y' can unknot yo' panties from it."

"You forget, I was not wearing panties at the time." She poked him in the side

"Mon dieu, must you tease? Like danglin' a ham sandwich in front of a hobo…" he glared.

"That's a way of putting it," she said, not lost on the innuendo. "But why bring that up suddenly?"

"It's why I came up here, chère. It's buggin' de hell out o' me now dat Rogue t'inks I got one on de side too. Dat, and I figured better kill it b'fore everyone an' dere mom t'inks I'm chasin' femmes like a jackass." He leaned forward, running a hand through his tousled hair and yawned again. He almost felt more tired than before he slept.

She breathed easier now. "You are forgiven as I do take you too literally sometimes. About Rogue, how did things go?" Her fingers absently traced the flower pattern on her comforter as she tried to be nonchalant.

"Peachy. We're good now. Have an understandin' dat friend's is best… Stormy, y' wearin' makeup?" he asked suddenly, realizing too late the possible rudeness in the question.

She glanced at him sheepishly, afraid to meet his red eyes in her nervousness, "Yes… is it too much?"

"No!" he blurted, "I mean… y' look different, but it's nice. I seen y' cleaned up b'fore, what's different?"

"I just decided to try a few things I picked up when I was out today." She didn't dare admit she'd visited a local spa and after having had her troubles massaged away, decided to have a makeover on a whim to catch his eye.

"Y' looks beautiful, Stormy." He said softly.

"Thank you, Remy. You should get ready for the 'family outing.'"

"Don' wanna go." He grumped, pulling himself to his feet and extended a hand to her which she accepted.

"You insisted I be there and there is no way I am letting you back out. We will have fun."

"Is dat an order?"

"No, it is three dollar margarita night and karaoke Wednesday, so I think I can safely say that's a promise."

"Ooo… you singin' fo' me? Mebbe some Billy Joel?" He teased, referencing a past embarrassment of hers.

"Goddess, no." She began shoving him towards the stairs while giggling. "Go get ready. We're leaving in 15 minutes."

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Author's note:

Sorry if this chapter bored you out of your skull tying up crappy plot holes does that  Next one has all the good bits.

Now the question is… what is Psylocke up to? It's probably so glaringly obvious but I will write it anyway. When did this thing turn into a half comedy? –shakes head-

Thanks go out to my good buddy, DB for providing the inspiration (and proofreading) of Donovan. As he told me when I asked about stereotyping, "Meh, what you gonna do? That's how I talk."

And good god! It's a pain in the butt spell checking Remy's accent.