A Brit lesson for you all. "Tucking in" is something you do at the start of a meal, normally with enthusiasm. When everyone's ready to eat someone says "tuck in" and everyone eats. :D Now don't you feel multicultural. Say it at dinner tonight and see how many people look at you strangely.
This chapter, as you see it here, is a mere shadow of what it should be. The full chapter is available on the Loganremy group of yahoo and carries an NC-17 rating. As always, thanks to Drae for her much appreciated betaing skills, and the cheer-leading doesn't go amiss either.
Oh… and when you get to the end of this chapter……… please don't kill me?
o
o
His eyes were on Remy's face as they headed out of the sports complex. Logan watched for the now familiar symptoms of Remy's withdrawal from the world, wondering if the day's outburst of laughter would spell the end of it. He had been startled the first time, seeing Remy's head drop and his stride lengthen, a blank expression falling into place. He had thought that the return of the strong stance and stature when he was in his element would offer Remy a little more strength when he left. But the broad smiles and confident walk were reserved for inside, and the outside's uncertainty tore it from him without compassion. And it did today, despite the achievements of the day's session.
"I'm gonna stop fer food on the way back." Logan spoke up to hide his own disappointment, not allowing Remy a chance to object. "Scooter's cookin' tonight, and I want ta eat somethin' edible." Remy nodded, the slightest shadow of a smile doing nothing to mask the roar of panic that was streaming through Logan's mind.
"Drive t'rough?" Remy clung to his last hope. Logan made a face.
"Ya expect me ta eat that shit? Nah, there's a diner round the corner. Good decent food."
"Which means dey'll do y' a steak hardly cooked an' not complain." Remy grumbled. Logan hid a smile, any response save passive dismissal he would take as positive at the moment.
"Something like that. Come on."
o
All the tension that was determinedly not showing in Remy's face and posture was revealed to Logan in the tight grip on his shoulder as they approached the little diner. A quiet word made sure that Remy didn't stumble on the few steps up into the bright space and Logan took a booth near the door, more out of habit than anything else. A waitress was immediately at their table, her eyes only for Remy as he slouched into the plastic-covered seat, the picture of relaxation as he draped his arm along the back. His gaze was on the street outside the window, though he saw only the vague movements of the people walking by.
"What can I get for you guys?" She begged for the attentions of those eyes, but received only an unfocused glance before they returned to the street, the soft brown iris' not quite meeting her expectations somehow. Logan wondered absently whether Remy could pick up on her flirtatious behaviour. Whether he still cared.
"I'll have a steak, rare - you hear me? Rare, not just pink." He ordered, remembering a little belatedly that Remy's new pet hatred was eating in public. He knew Remy wasn't eating properly, but he hadn't worked out how to call him on it yet.
"Ham and cheese toasty wit' fries." Remy told the window, not even glancing back this time. Logan was pretty sure ordering a sandwich was his way around having to put any thought into eating, but didn't say anything. At least he was eating.
They sat waiting for their food and Logan stared unabashed as Remy explored the table with his hands. Identifying the tower of upside down glasses and the pitcher of water in the middle of the table, the salt and pepper pots on his left, by the window, the napkin dispenser a little further over on Logan's side of the table. He drew his hands abruptly back into his lap as the waitress approached with knives and forks, leaning across him to place his fork and giving him an entirely wasted view down her top. Remy had turned his attentions back on the street outside. Huffing at his lack of attention, she slammed Logan's implements down, striding off. Logan waited for her to stalk out of earshot before asking what was on his mind.
"I know ya can feel her flirting with ya. 'S not like you ta ignore that kind of attention." Brown eyes slid up to his face out of habit, and Logan found himself hating those expressionless covers. It had taken him so long to realise that you could read emotion in the alien red-on-black orbs Remy had once possessed and he'd never had a chance to exploit the realisation.
"What's th' point, hehn? Watch dis." Digging into the pocket of his trench, Remy pulled out the folded cane and put it beside him on the table. He pointedly turned his head again so that he appeared to be looking out of the window, but Logan knew his attention was on the girl that had just come out of the kitchen again, this time with their food.
She approached with determination, a sweet smile on her face just in case Remy turned. When she spotted the stick, she stopped abruptly, face falling. The food was placed in front of them without comment, and the waitress nearly fled back into the kitchen, leaving other customers looking to them, curious as to why.
Remy turned to Logan with a wry smile and a shrug, hiding the cane in his pocket once more as he found his sandwich on the plate and tucked in.
"Ya know you could fool her if ya tried. Especially with the contacts."
"What's th' point?" He asked angrily. "Could only fool her so far."
"How far are ya plannin' on goin' with a waitress in a diner? Ya used ta flirt 'cause ya enjoyed it, it made ya feel good with yer empathy, not 'cause ya planned ta sleep with everythin' that moved." Remy frowned for a second, baffled.
"Non… non, I really did plan t' sleep wit' everyt'in' dat moved." Remy said with a smirk. Logan looked stumped for a moment, and Remy couldn't help but laugh at Logan's confused emotions.
"Well…" Logan struggled to return to his previous argument. "I'm just sayin', it'd be easier on yer empathy if ya didn't go outta yer way to piss people off."
"People gon' be more pissed off if I lead dem on an' den tell dem."
"So don't bother ta lead them on, just flirt like ya used ta. Ya don't need ta hide anythin'." Remy shook his head absently, finishing his food as he dismissed Logan's argument. "Are ya still up fer that drink?"
o
Remy was trailing one hand down the wall as he walked, having decisively shaken off Logan's guiding hand in these more familiar halls. He stumbled a little as he reached the door before his and Logan winced as he fell against it with a bang. He looked dazed for a moment, and before he could lift his weight off the door it opened and he fell sprawling across the floor over the surprised neighbour.
"Jamie!" He shouted, overjoyed at this unusual late-night meeting. Jamie looked less than overjoyed, obviously woken by the noise.
"Remy? What are you…" His nose wrinkled. "You're pickled!"
"Yeah, that's my fault." Logan spoke up. Jamie's attention turned to the other man curiously.
"Sorry, I didn't hear you come in." He said, almost embarrassed.
"It's Logan."
"Oh, the one who's been taking Remy out to the gym! Damn, you walk quietly." He shook his head, incredulous. "I didn't believe you actually existed for a while." Logan knew he walked quietly, a product of good training and habit, but he hadn't thought about it being a problem around here. He resolved to walk louder, then realised what a stupid resolution that was.
Perhaps he was just a little drunk too, affected by the roller-coastering emotions racing through his mind. With Remy drunk, the hold over his emotions had dropped and with the two of them connected even before this drunken release, Logan was feeling every dip and curve.
He tended to sober up all too quickly with his healing factor, so he resolved to enjoy this while he could. Realising he was making all too many resolutions he giggled, resolving not to make any more.
"Look. Lovely though it is to have you on my lap, Remy…" Jamie started to say. Remy snorted hysterically at nothing in particular, rolling off Jamie's lap and beating his fists against the carpet as he fought to control his laughter. Tilting his head up to try and find Logan at the door, Jamie tried again. "Logan, you any more sober?" Another giggle answered him.
"Right." A long-suffering sigh. "Look, stay in one of the spare rooms overnight. You're both seeped in drink, you can't drive home now." Logan would have growled at the assumption that he couldn't drive like this, if it hadn't been for the severe leap of joy that wrenched his heart upwards. Remy wanted him to stay over night.
"Simon's ol' room is free!" Remy suggested sluggishly, recovering from his laughing fit.
"Simon?" Logan asked.
"M' ol' neighbour. Lived opposite. Got himself cured." A self-pitying wrench as Remy staggered to his feet and ungracefully made his way out of the room, waving one hand in front of him to guide his way. Logan grasped his shoulder as Remy made his way past him.
"Hey, it's all right Rems." Logan pulled him back, gathering up his hands and trying to think through the fog in his mind. "Hank's still got hope, don't give up."
"S'ard. 'S…" Remy frowned. "Hard not t' when I'm lear'in' skills fo' th' blin' an' hopeless." Jamie snorted and turned to go. "An' I can spen' a whole nigh' in a bar an' only come home wit' m' chaperone."
"Remy will show you the room. Sleep well." Jamie said as he closed the door behind him. Logan barely acknowledged him, trying to soothe Remy out of the alcohol-soaked depression he had dropped himself into. He gently guided Remy back towards his room as he muttered quietly to himself in a conglomeration of languages, none of which Logan could quite identify until he started declaring his undying love for the X-men in French as he fished through his bag for his keys.
"Et j'aime ma petite Stormy. Et tu…" Remy paused, pulling Logan close to him and gazing over the top of his head lovingly. "Et tu… mon amour!" Remy didn't get a chance to finish that sentence, as he fell against his door and remembered that they didn't have keys, once again ending up sprawled across the floor.
Settling a barely conscious Remy into his bed, Logan tore himself away from the strangely enchanting sight of the energetic man so still and easily found the vacant room opposite - empty and quiet with only the slightest scent of the person before still lingering. He slumped down on the bed, with only enough sense to push off his shoes before falling into a doze.
o
It would have been impossible to determine afterwards which of them was responsible for the surge of lust that sparked and built between them. Regardless, the result was almost instantaneous - two mutants both as horny as mink and both with a blood-alcohol level that would have put most people in hospital. It didn't take a big leap of logic for Logan's mind to settle on the course of action that it did, and opening the door to find Remy mirroring him on the other side of the corridor did nothing but cement the decision in his mind. Sober enough to stand up straight at least, Remy smiled across the corridor at Logan, draping himself along the doorframe. He'd woken long enough to take out the contacts at some point during the night, but was still fully dressed, boots and all. Black orbs, empty of any spark, stared back at Logan, and he wondered if there was any way to tell which way Remy was looking. Was the pupil darker than the rest, or paler? He moved closer to take a look and followed Remy into the room when he backed away from him, closing the door behind him.
A more innocent mind, with an ear pressed to the door at that moment, might have mistaken the sounds as those of a desperate fight for survival, perhaps between a man and some wild animal. But there was battle of a very different kind going on.
An empath unlucky enough to come across this room would have surely left with a headache as shared, mirrored and confused emotions were buffeted back and forth between the two minds opened by alcohol as they strove to mark each other any way they could.
It was later, their passions reaching heights unimagined, that the fall came. The unlucky empath would have been bombarded at that moment with fear, hate, panic, so quickly followed by an overwhelming surge of disgust and shame. The emotions so intermingled in the sharing minds that even they would have been unable to define whose was whose. It was Logan, though, that came charging from that room still zipping his jeans and trailing a creased shirt. Remy who was left alone in his room, brought to his knees by his own clothes clawing at his ankles as he tried to follow with words of regret on his lips.
"I'm sorry… I was… I'm sorry." Silence met his apology, and far distance the sound of a gunned engine roaring into life.