Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, apart from Sandy (so far)...

Note: Thanks for all the little choccies you guys have given us to feast on! We are happy little Easter bunnies right about now:D We are so glad that you are enjoying the ride so far! Although we promise, promise, promise that the other girls are going to make an appearance VERY soon, so hold onto your horses, my friends! Anyway, onto the replies... Jean1: Got a bit confused as to your reference to Wolverine... I presume you meant JP? Anyway, I don't know how to defend Remy's actions other than to say that he has different things to contend with than in the comicverse and that his relationships with certain people are slightly different. But thanks for the reviews anyway, yours are always very balanced and we appreciate that. :) Chaos-harbinger: You hit the nail on the head there, luv. And JP definitely hit a nerve. How much that nerve really hurts is a question that's gonna have to wait for later though... ;) Rogue4787: Now that's a compliment if ever there was one! I'm kinda chuffed we bring out the reviewer in you... that's cool! But as far as the Christmas party goes, I hope you find this chapter fun. And you'll have to wait and see about Belle's wedding sitch and whether Remy'll actually turn up. ;) Dr. Breifs Cat: Thanks again for the great review, dear. :) And I think your estimation of everything was absolutely spot on. And BTW, after Cody Rogue didn't have any serious relationships apart from Joe. She tried, but I guess most of the guys turned out to be dicks only interested in one thing... But even with Joe things didn't 'feel right', so she broke that one off pretty quickly. Also, Sandy isn't the first character we've made up - there's been Carlos and Kristin (Emma's maid), but I think that's about it for OC's. I actually went through my Marvel encyclopaedia to figure out someone who could take the Sandy- role, but there didn't seem to be anyone who fit the airhead bimbo characterisation well enough. I guess you have to say kudos to Marvel for that one. If you have any ideas for Sandy-esque characters though... ;) illyria4747: I think the whole cooking thing was an excuse for Rogue to get mad at Remy, when the real reason is his slipperiness. I guess, despite the fact that she loves him madly, she still feels out of control of the relationship and that bugs her. Maybe she's a little afraid that he might lose interest in her too, and that makes her defensive about things. And I think you're definitely right about the invite being a kick in the pants. I don't think that underestimates his feelings for Rogue. At least, we can hope it doesn't... ;)

Anyway, that's it for now! Thanks again to everyone who reviewed and faved the fic, and here's a long chapter for you all to enjoy... Woot!

-Ludi x


Little By Little

(4) Christmas Party

For the next couple of days, Remy and JP seem to be avoiding each other. I'm intrigued by this, and wonder what they could possibly have spoken about after I'd left Jean-Paul's office that day - but since I have other things to be getting on with on the creative team, I don't dwell on it for long. Besides, the entire week everyone seems more interested in the upcoming Christmas party, which is taking place on Friday evening, and L&L is in such a state of frenzy that by Tuesday I've forgotten to worry about the behavior of my two most favorite bosses.

Kitty, naturally, is beside herself with excitement about the inevitable shindig, but then, she can afford to be since she has Pete to go with. Everyone seems to have someone to go with. The typing pool is full of giggling females, wandering who's going to have the audacity to ask Remy out. Luckily for me, no one seems to have the balls to confront him. Heather Cameron ends up being asked by one of the other section heads; Tabitha Smith insists no one is good enough for her except herself; Robert Kelly seems to think Christmas parties are beneath him and proclaims his intention of boycotting the whole affair, even though everyone knows he'll make appearance so he can cozy up to the bosses.

Roberto Da Costa, on the other hand, seems to be shadowing my every step. Everywhere I go, he seems to be right behind me with this sick puppy-dog look on his face, and it gives me the creeps. Ever since the incident with the famous red suit and the dropped purse, he won't leave me alone. I end up having to ask Kitty to stick with me at all times, so he can't get the chance to ask me to the party. By the middle of the week he's looking positively ready to tear his hair out.

"Why don't you just tell him you're already spoken for?" Kitty asks me one day, when we'd found ourselves knocking on Monet's door in a last ditch attempt to shake him off.

"Because he'll kill himself, I just know it!" I grit my teeth and reply to the door, as I watch him hovering uncertainly at the end of the corridor out of the corner of my eye.

"Anna, all this is going to have to come out sooner than later," Kitty reasons. "And you're doing him more harm by stringing him along than telling him the truth."

"If Ah tell him the truth, the whole of L&L will know about me and Remy!" I hiss back at her, when suddenly the door opens and Monet reveals herself in all her trumped up glory.

"What do you want?" she scowls when she sees me.

"Oh, is this your room?" I simper apologetically. "We thought it was the, uh, Deputy Administrator's office…"

It's a shitty lie, and Monet doesn't even waste her breath telling us so. The next moment the door has been slammed unceremoniously in our faces.

"Way to go, Anna," Kitty mutters over at me.

"It was worth it," I mutter back. "At least Rob's gone."

By Wednesday afternoon, it seems Remy and JP have magically made-up, because the next time I see them (in Remy's office) they're joking conspiratorially together about something I'd rather not know. Jean-Paul seems totally comfortable with the fact that we're a couple, bless him. It amuses him to see me constantly sneaking into Remy's office. I think he enjoys the intrigue of a love affair, but as luck would have it, the week is so busy that Remy and I hardly get a chance to play at all.

The down side of all this is that I don't get any time to discuss the approaching party with Remy at all. I still have no idea what's going to happen. I know Remy wants us to go as a couple, but I just don't think I'm ready for it, even now that we have JP's approval. Of course, Remy doesn't seem too bothered about it at all, but I'm worried to death over it. On Tuesday evening I'd had Betsy round to discuss dresses, and ended up realizing I had no idea what effect I wanted for my grand entrance. If I were going with Remy, it'd have to be something loud. But by myself… bitter experience of my last party at L&L had taught me that loud dresses were not the way to go. After two hours of indecision, Betsy had finally sighed and ordered me to sort things out with Remy or else.

So Wednesday came, and the working day went. Remy had had to stay over late, so it's nearing eight when I finally decide to call him. Already in my pajamas and ensconced in my favorite squishy armchair, I dial his number, psyching myself up to confront him about the party yet again. It's a while before he picks up.

"Hey, chere," he greets me. It's only then that I realize just how much I've missed his voice the past couple of days.

"Hey, sugah. You sound breathless. Whatcha been doin'?"

"Just fixin' myself some food," he replies jovially. "Had to run from de kitchen."

Hmm… Microwave food, no doubt. I smirk.

"Oh. Ah see."

"So to what do I owe de pleasure of dis call?" he asks. "Is dere anyt'ing I can do for you? I can come round and clean out your oven if you want me to. I can come topless as well."

"The topless oven cleaning can wait for another day," I tell him firmly, but not without a trace of humor. "There's somethin' else Ah wanted t' talk to you about."

"Oh?" He sounds curious. "Would it be too much to expect you want t' talk dirty t' me, baby? 'Cos much as I'd love to, I'm cookin' some pasta right now and I'm kinda hungry…"

Ha! Pasta's probably boilin' over as we speak!

"Unfortunately, no. No dirty talk. Ah was thinkin' more along the lines of the Christmas party this weekend?"

"Oh," he says. "Well, we can talk about dat if you want. Although I'm still open to de dirty talk if you call me back a li'l bit later…"

"Remy shut up about the dirty talk already! Ah'm bein' serious!"

"Okay, okay, I'm keepin' schtum! So what's botherin' you, huh? You still worried about what people gon' t'ink about us?"

"A little," I admit, still feeling stupid about it. I just wish I were as think-skinned as he is. "Listen, Remy, Ah don't want t' disappoint yah, but Ah think we should go separately. You know, make it seem as if nothin's goin' on between us. Ah don't think Ah could handle all the gossipin' and the starin' if we do come outta the heterosexual closet."

"Chere, dey be gossipin' about us anyway," he notes dryly. "But if dis is really what you want, I don't know what to say."

My face falls at his tone of voice. "You're disappointed, aren't yah."

"Well, I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't. But like I said, if dis is what you want, I'll go along wit' it. Just don't expect me to ask Sandy t' de party as cover."

I manage a laugh at that. "Sandy, Ah can handle. Ah'd only be mad if y'all went with that bitch, Monet."

"Like Monet and I have a hope in hell," he remarks with mock tragedy. "Besides, I'm in her bad books since I went to Caldecott lookin' for you. She'd rather go out wit' a snake."

"Remy, y'all are a snake," I remind him. "A good-fer-nuthin' swamp snake. But Ah still love yah for it," I add before he can take me seriously.

"Aw, just like I love you for bein' my Mississippi River rat," he plays along with me, so that I can't tell whether he's being for real or not. Before I can work it out, he's already speaking again. "Listen, chere, my stomach's rumblin' somet'ing vicious. And I have a funny feelin' my pasta's boilin' over right about now."

Ha, I knew it!

"No worries, sugah. Ah won't keep yah from your dinner. You go eat now."

"Okay. So you gonna call me later?" he asks hopefully. I grin and coil a lock of white hair round a forefinger.

"Ah may do…"

"Call me in an hour," he says quickly. "I'll be ready for you den."

"Are you sure about that, hun?" I raise an eyebrow at the phone.

"Chere, wit' you, I'm never sure of anyt'ing. But I try t' keep up, when I can." He pauses, and his voice lowers to a sexy drawl. "Talk t' y' later, p'tit."

"Bye, Remy," I drawl back, and place down the handset. Just talking to him, and my heart is already beating a mile a minute. I blow a lock of hair off my hot cheeks.

"Time for a cold shower, Roguey," I mutter to myself. "And a very stiff drink."

-oOo-

Thursday comes and goes rather uneventfully, but by Friday the whole of L&L is in a fever pitch of excitement. Some of the girls in the typing pool end up making regular trips to the function room, which is being decked out in full Christmas regalia for the festivities. JP is going about singing festive carols and even Monet is smiling. Only Robert Kelly looks sullen. I guess he didn't get a date to the party after all.

As soon as the working day's over I race home and spend the next couple of hours getting ready - with Betsy's assistance of course. Despite the help I'm still about half an hour late when I finally arrive at the party. It's amazing really. I decide I'm going to dress down and Betsy still manages to make a big fuss over jewelry, perfume, underwear and even the sheerness of my stockings.

L&L's function room is alive with the sounds of music, laughter, raised voices and the clink of wineglasses. I stand outside the double doors and look down tentatively at myself. Compared to my last party at L&L I'm actually looking relatively modest. Instead of something flashy and attention grabbing, I'd whipped out my favorite little black dress. Emma had looked at it with high disapproval, but Betsy had been more sympathetic - while certainly not show-stealing, to Betsy black would always be in fashion and would always look good. The only thing risqué about this dress was a plunging V-cut neckline - otherwise it was knee-length and there wasn't even a slit in sight. It was simple and elegant, and as soon as I'd put it on it'd given Emma the overwhelming desire to rip at least 2 inches off the length of the skirt.

This time I was definitely not going to make the mistake I'd made at L&L's last party and have every male in the room slavering over my famous 'assets'.

Satisfying myself that I'm looking perfectly decent, I finally screw up the courage to push the doors open. I'm instantly assailed by the thumping sounds of party music, by the scent of alcohol, by the flashing coloured lights and the cacophony of people attempting to talk above the noise. I slip inside trying to look as invisible as I can. I even manage to stay inconspicuous for all of about ten seconds, before someone collides right into my back. I whirl round, mumbling my apologies, only to find myself staring into Monet's scowling face.

"You're late," she notes, looking down her nose at me as if I was something dirty. From the way she says it I can tell she's disappointed that I didn't turn up at all.

"Ah thought we could turn up whenever we liked," I reply, trying very hard to be calm and civil, though being civil to Monet is frankly like trying to be civil to Hitler.

"Hmm," is all she answers with, casting a highly disapproving look over my choice of dress. Monet, as luck would have it, simply can't stand wearing anything that's even one week out of fashion. Tonight she's wearing a beautiful silk cheong-sam, embroidered in red and gold. She's even gone to town with her makeup and given herself a slightly Oriental look. Much as I hate to admit it, she looks simply stunning - and she knows it. The same can't be said of her opinion of me. "I do believe that's a Prada, darling," she says scornfully of my dress, her eyes still raking disdainfully over my body. "Let me see - Autumn/Winter collection, four years ago?"

I want to shout obscenities at her, but quickly curb my tongue and reply through a false smile: "Yup, that's right."

"Oh well, I suppose working in the fashion industry can't afford all of us a sense of taste," she notes witheringly, and walks away before I can reply. I stare after her, my eyes literally shooting daggers, as she sashays off towards what I presume is one of her many sycophantic admirers.

"Hey, Anna!"

Turning at the sound of the familiar, friendly voice, I see Kitty approaching me, waving at me with one hand, the other clasped protectively round the elbow of her boyfriend, Peter Rasputin.

"Kitty, Peter!" I cry, some of the tension immediately falling away from me. "Boy, am Ah ever glad to see you guys!"

I pause, suddenly speechless, as Kitty finally nears me. I have to admit that I've never seen her looking so radiant. She's wearing a shimmering, strappy gold dress with matching heels, and - wonder of wonders - is actually wearing lipstick and mascara. I don't think I ever seen her wearing makeup. I didn't know the gal had it in her to look so glam. Beside her, looking handsome as ever in a debonair suit, Peter looks very proud indeed of his beautiful girlfriend.

"Kitty, yah look beautiful!" I exclaim in wondering disbelief. On the sidelines, Peter's smile somehow manages to grow even wider.

"Oh, it's nothing," Kitty waves aside the compliment with a blush of embarrassment. "I don't know the first thing about fashion! I got Tabs to help me out." She points out the creative team's costume specialist, Tabitha Smith, who's looking strangely out of place in a pink, 1930's style gown, while her boyish crop of blonde hair has been gelled up into a spiky, rock-chick style. She spots me looking at her and waves at me over the shoulder of a random young man whose face I recall but whose name I don't.

"Well, looks like she did a great job," I note, inwardly wondering how she could make such a great job of Kitty but not of herself.

"Oh, you know Tabs, she loves to have models to experiment on!" Kitty grins. "But what took you so long, Anna? We thought you weren't coming!"

"Yeah, we were worried," Peter adds. "Especially when Mr. LeBeau turned up and you didn't."

"We thought maybe…" Kitty lowers her voice and leans in closer to me, "We thought maybe you two had broken up!"

I don't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes at the statement.

"Well, I decided that it was best if we came separately," I say. Kitty's smile instantly turns to a frown.

"Why? You're not still worried about what everyone thinks?"

I shrug evasively, and scan the room for any signs of Remy, who so far has escaped my notice. I finally catch sight of a gaggle of simpering females in one corner of the room. No doubt about it, Remy just has to be in the center. I scowl to myself.

"I think maybe you should go and rescue him," Peter observes, following my line of sight.

"Why?" I ask sarcastically. "Ah'm sure he's enjoying the attention. He usually does."

"No way!" Kitty looks horrified. "Anna, you have to get in there right now if you want to keep your man! That Sandy has been glued to his side ever since he got here!"

"Pfft!" I pull an ugly face. "The day he succumbs to Sandy's 'charms' is the day I start taking crap from Monet St. Croix!"

"I still think you should go over and help him out," Peter suggests, shuddering as he looks over at the throng of starry-eyed women. "There's only so many fangirls a man can take in one go."

"Believe me," I say coldly. "Remy's well-equipped to deal with groupies."

Before either of them can make a reply, Jean-Paul beckons them from across the room, obviously wanting to discuss something Lavande-related.

"Oh no," Kitty groans, hiding her face. "He's been wanting to talk about the new ad all night!"

"Well, we might as well get it over and done with," Peter shrugs.

"Peter, do you know how hard it is to explain composite animation to the man?" Kitty wails.

"About as hard as explaining organic thingamabobs to him, Ah'd guess," I reply with a sly grin. "Dontcha worry, Kitty. Mah turn will come soon, no doubt about it."

The two leave reluctantly, leaving me to saunter over to the refreshments table to pick up one of the fancy tidbits on offer. I look at it before popping it into my mouth, having no clue what it's meant to be. Apart from the suspiciously fishy flavor, it doesn't taste too bad. I slip a couple more into my mouth and then pick up a glass of wine. Across the room, Remy's fanclub has dispersed somewhat, and I can finally see him in casual conversation with Sandy. I narrow my eyes and chew hard on whatever it is I'm chewing on. Sandy's barely-there outfit has to be the most vulgar I've ever laid eyes on - and having a friend like Emma, that's saying a lot. Her body is nearly spilling out of an eensy-weensy red dress in the most gratuitous display of T and A I've ever seen. Nope - I don't think even Emma would be seen dead in anything remotely that revealing. Remy, on the other hand, looks completely unconcerned, chatting to her with the same seductive charm he always puts on when he talks to women.

That's right swamp rat, you earn yahself another earful from yours truly…

As if on cue he looks up then and spots me, smiling momentarily so that his eyes light up. I simply pout and look away.

I busy myself choosing a few more delicacies, and take the opportunity to glance round the other half of the room. It's then that I realize that my plans at dumbing down haven't exactly worked. Several men are gazing over at me with appreciative expressions on their faces. A few are even sending hopeful smiles my way. I look down at myself, wondering what exactly I've done wrong. All the other women here are dressed up to the nines in flashy colors and enough jewelry to put the Queen of England to shame. Surely there can be nothing spectacular about my boring old LBD?

I inch a little towards the end of the table, hoping to be less conspicuous nearer the corner of the room. I could've stood up on the table for all the good it does. A minute later, Roberto Da Costa, one of my colleagues on Remy's creative team, crosses the room towards me, an easy smile on his handsome face.

"Hey Anna," he greets me, sidling up beside me and picking up a glass of red wine.

"Hi, Rob," I smile genuinely back at him. In the frenzy of getting ready for the party, I'd all but forgotten about his stalking. And by the time I do remember, I'm talking to him and it's too late. Doh!

"Didn't think you were coming," he remarks a little too casually. "But…I'm glad you did."

He flashes me a bright smile that I can't quite fully return.

"Well, yah know what a gal can be like getting ready," I return as humorously as I can, while inwardly hoping Remy decides to grace me with his presence soon.

He laughs a little tensely and nods. "Well, looks like all that effort paid off," he says, then adds rather quickly, "You look great, Anna."

I mumble my thanks, yet again wondering what exactly is singling me out as being especially attractive tonight.

We stand a few moments in awkward silence, drinking our wine. I glance at Remy and Sandy only to find they've both disappeared. I frown to myself. Okay, so I told him we shouldn't make things too obvious tonight, but he could at least have the common decency to rescue me from unwanted admirers…

"So," Roberto suddenly asks from beside me in a rush, "you wanna dance?"
I'm so busy looking for Remy that I don't quite catch him.

"Sorry?"

He leans in towards my ear, thinking I hadn't been able to hear him over the loud music, and shouts: "wanna dance?"

I open my mouth, about to stutter an embarrassingly unconvincing excuse, when suddenly a sultry drawl interjects beside me: "Excuse me, am I interrupting?"

I half turn to find Remy standing beside me, and I'm so relieved to see him I have to repress the urge to throw my arms round him there and then.

"Not at all," I answer breathlessly.

"Uh, no, not at all Mr. LeBeau," Roberto adds politely, although I can't help but notice the way his face has fallen.

"It's just dat I was hopin' to have a private word wit' Anna here," Remy continues smoothly, giving me a nonchalant half glance. "I caught a few things in your report that concerned me, y'see," he says, addressing me fully without even so much as batting his eyelids, "and it simply couldn't wait until after de holidays…"

"Of course, no problem, Mr. LeBeau," Roberto mutters, and I almost feel sorry for him. He looks at me with a small smile. "See yah later, Anna," he adds hopefully.

"See yah, Rob," I half smile back. Without another word he wanders off again, a thoroughly disappointed expression on his face.

"Well, yah could've come like five minutes earlier," I heartlessly scold Remy once Roberto's out of sight and earshot. I sneak Remy a half glance, trying not to look too furtive or suspicious. He looks as delicious as he always does in a casual smart Alexander McQueen suit and a silky gray shirt. As usual the two top buttons are undone. It makes my fingers itch to rip the whole goddarn thing right off him.

"I dunno," he replies lazily. "Thought I'd check out de male competition." I shoot him a look and he smiles, explains: "You're popular tonight."

The searing gaze he passes over my body says it all. Once again, I'm nonplussed.

"Looks like you are too," I note sourly, casting a look over at Sandy, who's now talking to Peter and a defensive-looking Kitty. Remy follows my gaze.

"What, Sandy?" He laughs. "She's a sweet girl," he observes good-naturedly.

"Yeah, she's a real sweet piece o' work," I say darkly. Remy looks at me in amusement.

"Keep on makin' comments like dat one and you'll be seriously massagin' my male ego, chere," he notes humorously.

"That's right, laugh it up, Cajun," I huff at him. I half turn away from him so it doesn't look like we're getting too close - for all the good it does. The fact that I'm talking to him alone is earning me jealous looks already. Several women are glaring at me and whispering amongst themselves. No doubt gossipin' about what a first-class hoe Ah am, I fume silently to myself.

Remy's still looking at me with an amused smile on his face.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he says. "Rogue, what've you got to be so insecure about?"

"What've Ah got? How about an entire company full of jealous and vindictive women who'd pounce on you any time of the night or day given the chance?"

He chuckles softly.

"Screw dem. What makes you t'ink I'd want any of dem when I've got you?" He pauses and surveys the room in a quick glance. "You do know dat any one of de men in dis here room would willingly give up all sense and reason t' have you as their woman?" He pauses, adds comically: "'Part from JP, of course, but we all know he still loves you to bits."

I say nothing. It hadn't really occurred to me before that any guy in this room would be interested me. I guess I've just spent so much of the past four years feeling disillusioned about meeting a decent man to believe it possible. Besides, ever since I started at L&L, I've been far too distracted by Remy to be thinking about any of the other guys round here. I always figured they thought I was a tramp anyway. But now that I think about it, I have noticed a couple of longing looks being passed my way in the corridors…

"But why?" I suddenly burst out, confused. "Ah mean, Ah didn't want any attention tonight, so Ah figured wearin' this stupid old black dress would make me look as frumpy as possible, and they're still all oglin' me like Ah was walkin' round in the buff…"

Remy chuckles lightly again. "You wan' know why?" He turns to face me and absently toys with a lock of my hair. "Because you're goddamn beautiful, simple as dat."

"Remy…"

He's laying the charm on so thickly that I don't even notice the whispering around me growing to a fever pitch. It takes me half a minute to realize just how suspicious the two of us are suddenly looking.

"Remy!" I rebuke him under my breath, twisting my face away so that the lock of hair falls out from between his fingers. "Everyone's watchin'!"

"So what?" he asks calmly.

"Have you forgotten," I seethe at him, "that Ah'm s'pposed to have got into L&L by bein' yah bit of skirt on the side!"

From the sidelines I can distinctly see Monet's haughty face glowering over at mine.

"Dose cows can say whatever de hell dey want," Remy states intently, his hands slipping over my waist, much to my distress. "It's none of their goddamn business. I don't care what they think."

Horrified, I try to slap his hands away.

"Ah care!" I exclaim, upset at how insensitive he's suddenly being about my feelings.

"Why?"

"Because Ah'm not… Ah never was… Ah don't want them t' think that they're right!" I say desperately. "That Ah'm some kinda whore!" I add on a wavering breath. By now half the room is staring at the two of us as I finally slap Remy's hands away from my waist. He says nothing for a long moment and simply stares at me as I feel my cheeks begin to burn under the stares and the neon lights. Then, all of a sudden, before I can protest, he grasps my wrist and leads me onto the dance floor. He pulls me to a stop in the center and by now more than half the room is staring at us, wondering what's going on. If possible the women are tittering more excitedly than before.

"Excuse me, everybody!" Remy begins to announce in a voice that's calm but firm enough to carry over the music, and I start to panic as it finally dawns on me what he's about to do.

"Remy!" I hiss, but he simply ignores me.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he continues, "if I could just take your attention away from dis oh-so-wonderful party our beloved Mr. Beaubier has been so obligin' as to lay out for us," (and he gives a charming little bow in Jean-Paul's direction, who grins back and earns himself an unexpected and heartfelt clap from the congregation), "I have a little announcement t' make!"

He takes my hand in his own and raises it as if presenting royalty, with such a chivalrous air that I no longer have an excuse to smack him round the face and make my escape. So I just stand there and blush and hope I don't look too ridiculous.

"Dis - as I'm sure you all know by now - is Anna Raven, one-seventh of L&L's creative team, and a very talented young lady she is too." There are a few wolf whistles from the men on the sidelines who probably suspect I'm talented in more than just the usual areas. By now my cheeks are flaming a bright red, but Remy refuses to let up, his grip tightening on mine as he affectionately squeezes my hand in encouragement. It's a while before the cheering finally dies down.

"She is also-" Remy continues blithely, clearly enjoying every moment of the attention, "and I really hate to admit dis, because I know it's goin' t' disappoint quite few you out dere, male and female alike - she is also my most gorgeous and delectable girlfriend," (there are several audible gasps from the women in the room), "and she has been for de past few weeks. In short - yes, we are t'gether, yes, I love her, and to all de curious men in dis room, yes, she is extremely good in de -"

Whatever sordid revelation he's about to tell everyone is abruptly cut off as I clamp my hand over his mouth and quickly pull him down towards me in a stifling bear-hug. Not only had he said those words, but he'd said them in front of a room of half-drunk work colleagues! At that very moment I don't think I can ever sufficiently repay him for such an overwhelming display of adoration.

"That's quite enough, swamp rat!" I cry in his ear, nevertheless unable to hide the happiness from my voice as I realize just how much stupid male reputation he's risked to declare to all and sundry just how he feels for me. "I love you," I add passionately, not caring anymore that the whole of L&L is watching, or even if the whole world knows. As I say the words, I look over his shoulder, and to my surprise, I see Jean-Paul start to clap, quickly followed by an enthusiastic Kitty and Peter, and then the rest of the creative team who add in whoops and whistles - even Roberto, who nevertheless looks at the two of us with a crestfallen expression. Soon pretty much everyone is applauding, except for a few peevish looking women, including Sandy, and most notably Monet, who looks as if she could turn just about anyone in a 100 yard radius to stone. But at that moment I find I don't even care. At the sound of the rapturous welcome we receive, how can I even give her a second thought?

Meanwhile, Remy squeezes me tightly before letting me go and asks sarcastically over the din: "Happy now?"

"Much," I nod in relief. "Although yah could've been a bit more subtle, yah naughty boy!"

He winks.

"You know me, chere," he replies innocently. "I just love t' shock."

"Show off, yah mean," I retort, hugging him tightly once more.

-xXx-

It was amazing how affectionate a girl could become after her man had swallowed enough male pride to make an utter fool of himself in front of his colleagues. Remy didn't know whether to be pleased that he'd finally allayed Rogue's paranoia that she'd go down in history as L&L's scarlet women, or worried that he was never going to live this event down again.

Rogue, however, seemed oblivious to his dilemma. Having been firmly installed in his life in front of all their peers, she couldn't have been happier. Once she'd had a couple more drinks he couldn't even get her off the dance floor. It amused him to see her obvious pleasure whenever anyone came past to wish them congratulations. In the end all he had to be thankful for was that his insane exhibition hadn't caused her to slap him in the face instead.

The only person who found the whole thing more amusing than Remy did was Jean-Paul Beaubier.

"Who's a brave boy then?" he asked of Remy jokingly, sidling up beside him while Rogue had gone off to the ladies' room.

"Shut up," Remy replied sourly, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

"Aw, I'm only kidding," JP grinned. "I'm just surprised that you announced it to the whole world, that's all. Not to mention Anna letting you get away with it intact," he chuckled.

"Lucky for me I got de killer charm den, neh?" he retorted sarcastically.

"You're taking this way too badly, mon ami," JP returned cheerfully.

"I ain't never gon' live dis down," Remy muttered belligerently.

"I should hope not!" Peter Rasputin's voice cut in from the sidelines as he and Kitty suddenly approached the two of them. "Practically every man in this room is secretly envying you for being the man to snare Ms. Anna Raven!"

"And that's nothing compared to what all the women are thinking!" Kitty added gleefully, her eyes shining. "That was so romantic, Mr. LeBeau! If only Peter would be willing to do the same for me!" She passed a sly glance over at her boyfriend, who suddenly seemed more interested in adjusting his collar.

"See, Remy?" Jean-Paul gave him a comradely clap on the shoulder. "You're a regular hero!"

Remy gave a slightly bemused smile in reply. It wasn't that he was complaining or anything; he was just very conscious that ever since Anna Raven had come into his life, he'd been in very grave danger of becoming one of those dreaded 'new age men'.

"Who's a hero?" came Rogue's familiar husky, Southern drawl from behind them. A second later she'd squeezed in beside Remy and managed to sneak him a playful pinch on the butt without anyone noticing.

"We were just talking about Mr. LeBeau's little speech," Kitty gushed eagerly. "It was so romantic!"

"Romantic, huh?" Rogue cast Remy a penetrating look. "Ah guess it was, until he got to that last part."

Remy could only smile at apologetically at her, while Jean-Paul sagely remarked: "Oh, we all know Remy and his inability to resist showing off when he has anything that's better than anyone else has…" He trailed off meaningfully, leaving Remy with the distinct impression that JP was enjoying this all a little too much.

"Me and Petey are responsible an' mature men now, you jus' need t' grow up JP," Remy threw sarcastically at his boss, surreptitiously placing a hand against the small of Rogue's back and caressing her lightly. She, however, snorted and murmured: "Responsible and mature mah butt."

"And such a shapely butt it is, mah chere," Remy noted airily.

"The day I turn out like you two is the day I'm spinning in my grave at 2,000 RPM," Jean-Paul returned merrily, before adding as an afterthought. "No offence to you of course, Peter."

"Hey, why no offence to him!" Remy protested indignantly.

"Because 'responsible' and 'mature' happen to be two words that suit Mr. Rasputin down to the ground," JP replied, to which everyone burst into laughter, except Remy, who looked highly affronted.

"You ain't never gon' let dis go, are you, JP?" he grumbled once everyone had stopped laughing.

"Let me think," Jean-Paul began innocently. "No, I don't think so."

"Merde," Remy muttered. He didn't mind JP teasing him behind closed doors in the office, but in front of everyone else it was somewhat humiliating. Of course he always knew that Christmas parties were the prime time for letting your hair down and for the borders of company hierarchy to be blurred, but in the past it had always worked to his advantage. This time round it seemed he was getting a taste of his own medicine.

"You vultures can leave mah man alone," Rogue finally came to his defense, though Remy suspected she'd secretly enjoyed them teasing him all along. She turned and rearranged his collar in a half-matronly, half-seductive manner, stating: "His devotion deserves your respect, not your ridicule." The way she said it, nevertheless, still left Remy the impression that she was poking fun at him. It was a pleasant surprise, then, that he saw a whole different expression in her smoky green eyes as she tugged on his collar slightly and forced him to gaze at her.

"Ah'm tired, Remy," she drawled meaningfully, "how 'bout we call it a night?"

"Aw," Kitty pouted in disappointment. "How can you be thinking of leaving already, Anna, you've only been here a couple of hours! The night is still young!"

Jean-Paul and Peter, however, were passing one another knowing glances.

"Maybe we should just let them go, Kitty…" Peter suggested innocently.

"Yes, Anna, you do look a little tired…" Jean-Paul added with an overdone look of indulgent concern. "You two go home now and get some, er, sleep."

Needless to say, Remy's mood cheered up considerably after this.

It took a long time for them to extract themselves from the party, seeing as quite a lot of people decided they had something to say to them before they left. Remy got clapped on the back several times, and Kitty and Tabitha insisted on having a final girly chat with Rogue before Christmas, which consisted of lots of giggling and lots of hushed whisperings which couldn't quite conceal the mentioning of his name more than once. By the time the two of them had finally got into the hallway, Remy felt as if he'd just been through a war zone.

Apparently, Rogue seemed to think so too.

"Whew!" she exclaimed, fanning herself with a hand. "Was it just me or was that the longest exit ever in recorded history?"

"You don't know how long," Remy replied huskily, having found the whole ordeal torturous, knowing what was coming once he got home.

"Hmm," Rogue hummed dubiously, already guessing some of the X-rated thoughts currently going through his head. They were standing outside the double doors of the function room, trying to talk as quietly as they could and not disturb the many couples who had met out in the hallway for a quick kiss and a grope. It was amazing the number of weird, wonderful and unexpected relationships that often sprung up out of Christmas parties - most of them doomed to disastrous failure. Rogue looked around with an intense look of disapproval. It amused Remy that someone as passionate and sexy as his girlfriend should have such a firm sense of moral discipline, one he often found extremely lacking in himself.

"So," he began, wrapping an arm round her waist and drawing her closer, his voice low and seductive, "your place or mine?"

"Yours," she replied promptly. Her paranoia of her apartment was just one of the many other things about her that amused him. "Ah'll just go get our coats from the cloakroom," she added, trying to disengage herself from his embrace, but he wasn't quite ready to let her go yet.

"Wait a minute," he said.

"What?" She looked a little impatient, and he quickly produced something from his pocket and held it above her head. Confused, she looked up and saw a sprig of mistletoe dangling between his fingers.

"I want a kiss," he demanded.

"Remy," she looked as if she didn't know whether to laugh or frown with exasperation, "you're gonna get a whole lot more than a kiss's worth when we get back."

"Christmas ain't de same without it," he insisted, and gave her a look so pleading that it took her all of two seconds to cave in.

"Oh… all right," she surrendered with a hint of laughter in her voice, and the next moment they were kissing so passionately that he reckoned they could give everyone else in the room a run for their money.

"There, happy now?" she asked archly of him once they'd broken apart.

"Exceedingly," he murmured, still secretly wanting more.

"Good. Now maybe Ah can go get our coats and we can mosey on outta here?"

"You do dat," he agreed, and watched as she swung tantalizingly down the corridor and out of sight. He found a grin slowly begin to play across his face as he realized that having this gorgeous girl by his side was worth a thousand humiliations he may have had to go through at her expense.

"Well that was a wonderfully touching speech you made back there, LeBeau," came a frosty voice from behind him. Remy knew who it was before he even began to turn around. Sure enough, Monet St. Croix was standing there, an unpleasant sneer plastered across her usually pretty face.

"T'anks," Remy replied coolly. He'd never had any issues with his rather opinionated and haughty colleague before - in fact they'd shared several casual flings in the past that had meant absolutely nothing to either of them. It bewildered him a little, then, that Monet had shown an implacable sense of jealousy towards his relationship with Anna even before it had truly begun. Both professionally and personally, Remy had always got on well with Monet (not that their personal relationship had ever extended past a number of casual romps over a couple of weekends), but lately he'd found an intense dislike for the woman that he'd never felt before. And yet, while their previous encounters had never been anything more than purely sexual, he found that both he and Monet shared an understanding that quite disconcerted him because he hardly knew a thing about her at all.

"It was just about the most moving thing I'd experienced all year," Monet continued to note airily but with a touch of venom. "Apart from that dirty weekend we shared last summer. You remember the one?"

"Dat was just stupid fun," he snapped, already beginning to lose his temper.

"Oh, as opposed to what?" she asked, her eyes glinting dangerously. "You mean as opposed to the boring things you and Anna do in each other's company? What do you do - sit around and talk about growing old together?"

Remy said nothing and gritted his teeth, knowing the worst thing was to start an argument with her - it'd be just the kind of thing she'd want Rogue to hear when she reappeared.

"You know, you're really going soft, Remy," she hissed maliciously. "That stuck-up hussy's baited you good and true, but don't worry, I don't expect your disgusting little fling to last more than five seconds." She reached down and cupped a palm over him, rubbing him intimately. "You'll get bored soon enough."

She lingered a second longer, long enough for both her words and her touch to sink in before she turned and swept away, just as Rogue came swinging back round the corner.

"What was that all about?" she asked curiously as Monet finally disappeared back into the function room.

"Not'ing," Remy muttered, still having trouble curbing the disconcerting effect Monet had had on him.

"Sugah, yah look all hot and bothered," Rogue commented worriedly, as she handed him his jacket. "She wasn't too harsh, was she? Ah thought you could handle her?"

"It was not'ing," he reassured her quietly. "Just Monet bein' her normal bitch of a self."

Rogue stared at the doors Monet had just left by, an incensed expression on her face.

"Just wait till Ah get mah hands on that cow…!" she began, but he stopped her. The last thing he wanted was to have to go in there and see Monet's face again. In fact, he'd be quite happy if he never had to see her contemptuous face again.

"Leave her to it, chere," he said softly, slipping his hands over her shoulders, ready to physically hold her back from having a showdown with Monet if he had to. "De fact dat we're t'gether is her problem, not ours. B'sides," he added, as he felt her relax and loosened his grip on her a little, "I don't want her t' spoil our night."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, softly, savoring the taste of her lips, her mouth.

Monet was wrong. Anna Raven wasn't just a fling, and he was never going to get bored of being with her. Not ever.

-oOo-


To be continued...