MAGNETIC ATTRACTION

Part Twenty-Five

As Remy lay next to Wanda's sleeping body on her bed, misery ate at every part of him. He hated that he'd fallen into the trap again, and he hated that regardless of not wanting to have sex with the girl, he'd enjoyed it nonetheless.

It's like a drug. Regardless if you don't wanna take it, you still get high anyway. Might not be a great high, but its a high all the same.

He thought of Rogue, who would be resting up in her room.

God, she'd be so disgusted...even more so than before. It almost feels like...I'm letting her down...disappointing her.

Wanda had fallen straight asleep after sex (and almost during). He wasn't sure if it'd been to the slow pace he'd maintained, or simply from whatever medications she'd taken but either way, it hadn't done much for his ego. For now, he was glad to be done with her at least. At least, for the moment he could breathe. Wanda would leave him alone for a little while now, and now that he'd had some gratification, he could think much clearer too.

Headaches gone. Don't suppose that's a coincidence, he thought as he slowly got up from the bed, careful not to shake the mattress too much and wake Wanda. He glanced down at her; her nude body was stretched out, pale skin gleaming in the dim light from the lamp on her dresser. She was beautiful insanity upon faux fur blankets.

Why couldn't this have been simple? Why couldn't you have just had feelings for this girl? It would have made things easy. Then there'd be no guilt...

He sighed inwardly as he pulled on his underwear. Instead you're gonna have to fake your way through this until she gets bored or cured of this stupid insanity of hers – which is very unlikely - or until Rogue at least gets the hell out of here and isn't in danger of getting hurt by her again.

Remy dressed, feeling sullen and used again, despite he'd been the one doing most of the work this time around. Trying to keep Wanda from taking over had not been easy, and had been more tiring than the act itself. She didn't like slow paced love making, nor did she like tenderness and she'd expressed this the whole drawn out time. And he'd deliberately drawn it.

Hopefully she hates it enough she just tells you to go fuck yourself and move on, Remy thought as he slipped out of the room quietly after checking no one could see. He went to his room, changed his clothes, combed his hair, retrieved his phone and wallet and left the warehouse.

Piotr and Lance were outside, now working on Rogue's car. The hood was open and Lance was leaning over, tinkering with the engine. Piotr was holding up the hood as apparently the rod to keep the thing up was missing.

"Hey," Piotr greeted, his smile warm and friendly. "You are going out?"

"Yeah," Remy picked the bike helmet up. "Need some cigarettes," he responded. And a drink, he thought.

"How is Rogue?" asked Piotr, his face suddenly full of concern.

"She's...I don't know, actually," Remy drew his breath through his teeth.

"So what's happening with the mess?" Lance queried from beneath the hood of the car. "Magneto told us not to even touch it...but it can't just stay like that."

"I'll fix it," Remy said quietly, he stared down at the helmet, momentarily lost in thought.

"I will help you," Piotr offered.

Remy turned and looked at the large Russian, but he gave a sigh and shook his head softly, "no. My mess. I'll clean it."

"You cannot-" Piotr spoke up.

"No," Remy said again, this time more forcefully. "I've always been told to practice what you preach. I made Pietro and Lance fix their mess themselves. Now I should do the same. You shouldn't have to pay for what I caused."

Piotr let go of the hood to come over, nearly trapping Lance beneath it. Lance caught it just barely in time and yelled out in objection. "What did happen?"

"You saw it for yourself," Remy said quietly.

"I know what I saw, but I do not know what happened," Piotr said under his breath so Lance wouldn't hear from where he was. "If you need to talk-"

"Less you know, the better," Remy feigned a smile and smacked the larger boy playfully on the arm, "go on. Go back to what you were doing. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

"Don't think there's much we can do here," Lance closed the hood, he rubbed the back of his neck, "there's too much needing done and it's gonna cost too much to fix."

"How much are we talking?" Remy asked, feeling quite sullen. Rogue is pissed enough at me right now and it's probably gonna get worse if that car isn't working for tomorrow morning.

Lance chewed the inside of his cheek, "Well..."

"Out with it..."

"New engine, new tires, new clutch...there's far too much needing fixed. It won't be cheap...and it's not gonna be fixed any time soon."

"She needs that car for school," Remy leaned against the bike, still clutching his helmet. "Think you can give her yours for the time being?"

"That an order?" Lance frowned.

"It's a favour," Remy spoke. "Let her use your car for now."

"But-"

"She helped you pick your girlfriend's present, Lance. Least you can do is repay the favour," Remy pulled the helmet on and got onto the bike. "We'll figure out something about the car tomorrow," he stated. With that, left.

He rode the Harley into town; the rain stayed off long enough for him to get inside to the nearest bar. He rarely ever liked drinking, and didn't at all enjoy drinking alone, but tonight was the exception.

For a few hours, he sat and drowned his sorrows in tequilla shots with Budweiser to chase. The bar stank of strong spirits and cheap perfume. Most of the women who frequented were in their late thirties and early forties and the desperation smelled stronger than their perfume. It was a regular haunt for most of the local industry workers and most of them hadn't even bothered to go home and change out of their uniforms and boiler suits before settling at the bar for a drink.

Remy sipped from his bottle of beer, despair sinking in with each successive drink. He leaned forward onto the bar, and with his finger drew invisible patterns into the chipped and scratched wood.

A heavy footstep near his back made him straighten; he knew the sound before he'd even heard the voice.

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking in a bar?"

Remy turned to see Wolverine taking the empty bar stool next to him. He snorted and looked away again, frowning. "I'm old enough."

"If you say so."

"You followin' me?"

"I smelled your scent the minute I walked through the door," Wolverine uttered. "You smell like sex and cigarettes. And shame."

"Ain't got cigarettes," Remy uttered, he picked up a coaster from the bar and folded it absently. "Plenty of the other, though."

"Wanda's scent. Ain't it. Real fresh too."

Remy turned to look at the older man curiously, "you can really smell all that?"

"You'd be surprised," Wolverine ordered a beer from the almost-over-the-hill bartender.

With a grunt, Remy took his wallet out, counted out the money quickly and dropped it onto the bar without a word.

"What's this?"

"The deposit. I told you. I'm done. The deal is off," Remy took a drink from the bottle, head swimming with it.

"Does Rogue know you've been screwin' Magneto's daughter?" Wolverine took the money and pocketed it.

Grimacing, Remy finished the bottle, he ordered two shots, then responded, "what's it to you?"

"Plenty, if you've been letting her think you care about her."

"What makes you think I have?" Remy asked. "Accordin' to you I was the one who was fallin' for her."

Wolverine said nothing. He sipped his beer quietly.

"She knows, okay?" Remy slurred angrily. "I told her everythin'."

"About the deal?" Wolverine asked.

"No. Not that," the two tequila shots arrived, and Remy tossed them down his throat back to back.

Wolverine watched him, "You're really gunning to get truly hammered, ain't you?"

"What was your first clue?" Remy laughed bitterly.

"How you think Magneto is going to take it if you go home drunk?"

"I don't give a fuck right now," Remy sighed. "I just want to blank all this shit out for now. So do me a favour and fuck off," he got up from the stool, it'd been the first time he'd even tried to stand since he'd arrived. His bladder was like an over-inflated balloon and his legs felt like jello. He tumbled down to the floor clumsily, then gave a laugh, "my legs are drunk."

"Not just the legs," Wolverine reached down and pulled him up, "get it together, kid. You're wasted."

Remy smacked Wolverine's arm away, "don't. I can pick myself up..." he staggered.

"How you getting home?" Wolverine asked, he took a quick sip of his beer.

"Bike," Remy headed towards the mens bathrooms to relieve himself. The smell in there caught the back of his throat and almost caused him to throw up. He quickly drained his bladder as fast as he could and left without even bothering to wash his hands, feeling that they would probably be much dirtier after than before.

Wolverine was still sitting at the bar when he returned, Remy was about to hail for the bartender's attention but Wolverine got up, spun him towards the door and said, "you've had enough."

"What's it to you."

"Hey, this is my bar, and you're not gonna cause a scene in here, muties get enough of a bad rap already," Wolverine uttered under his breath as he directed him towards the door and went outside with him.

Outside, the rain was pouring down heavily, pelting like bullets at them. The dark had come, although Remy had lost all concept of what time it could possibly be.

Remy broke away from Wolverine's grasping hand as the man tried to lead him away from the bar, "I didn't ask for any of this you know!" he yelled, staggering from side to side, finding it hard to focus on the man.

Wolverine had no response.

"All I wanted was to have somewhere to just...be. I didn't want to be leader! I didn't want to be fucking with Magneto's daughter, I didn't want a relationship and I didn't want to fall for anyone!"

"Gambit," Wolverine said firmly.

"This is killing me!" Remy swept his hand through his hair frustratedly. "I don't know what to do! I keep walking into one fucking trap after the other! I walked into leadership, I walked into bed with Wanda and I walked into falling for a girl who might be the only best friend I've ever have! I didn't ask for any of it! I just walked without looking and now..." he looked around the street, "where?! Where do I fucking go?! Wanda has me over a barrel, Magneto has me at his beck and fucking call, and Rogue...she won't even fucking talk to me. Can't even look at me!"

"You made a rod for your own back," Wolverine admitted.

Remy looked away unhappily, he could barely hold himself up so he decided to sit on the edge of the pavement, head in his hands. "I nearly got her killed...I had her blood on my hands, and I can still practically feel it. It's still under my fingernails...I can't make it go away...can't...make any of it go away..." he groaned miserably.

"I'm not gonna coddle you," Wolverine grunted, he sat beside him, not seeming to care about the wet ground or the pouring rain, "but...I am gonna give you advice...whether you remember it tomorrow or doesn't matter. Maybe somewhere it'll get into that thick skull of yours."

In surprise, Remy turned to look at him.

"Life doesn't come with a set of instructions, kid. What you make of it is what you make of it, you write your own rules, you figure out your own guidelines. If you don't like the way your life is, then you change it. Write down some new rules and stick by them, stop just defaulting back to the old ones."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Remy asked.

"I don't care how it makes you feel," Wolverine spotted a cab coming down the street and hailed it. "All I care about is that you make sure Rogue doesn't end up on a slab," he muttered, he stood up and opened the door and gestured for Remy to get in. "Because so far, you're doing a lousy job..."

"My bike..." Remy glanced towards where he'd parked it.

"You'll get it tomorrow. You can't ride back in this condition. Go home, sober up, figure out what to do with the mess you've created and try to fix it. It ain't too late."

Remy climbed into the cab reluctantly, he sighed, "what do I do about Rogue."

"If you care anythin' for her. If you have fallen for her, then you'll get her the hell out of there. Magneto is bad news, and you know it."

"How the hell can I get her out?" Remy despaired.

"You got her to trust you once."

"I don' think that's gonna happen again," Remy leaned back against the seat and sighed. He watched Wolverine heading back towards the bar as he uttered the address of the warehouse.

Rogue sighed as she stood half naked in front of her mirror while she peeled carefully at the dressing that Magneto had applied that morning. The wound was ugly and red, and looked strangely misshapen. The stitches were still in tact, but would need removed soon enough.

One more absorbing of Logan's powers and maybe Ah'll never see it again, she thought as she put the dressing back over it and reached for her pyjama top. Outside, she heard a clattering sound which made her jump.

Pulling her top on quickly, she rushed to her bedroom door, swung to her right and opened the door leading to the fire escape just in time to see Remy falling to the grated floor of the balcony, soaked to the bone, his new leather coat hanging awkwardly off one shoulder.

"Remy..." she gasped. She rushed over to him, not sure what exactly was wrong with him as it seemed he could barely stand. As mad as she was with him right now, and certainly as disgusted with him as she was, she couldn't leave him in this condition in the pouring rain. The smell of alcohol hit her the second she reached to help him up.

"Oh my god," she winced at the stench. It was ridiculously strong.

"Chere..." he said drunkenly, he glanced up at her with sad eyes, his expression almost pathetic. He leaned against the rail for a moment before trying to pull himself up.

"You've been drinkin'," she sighed.

"Just a lil'," he held his thumb and index finger about half an inch apart and gave a hollow laugh.

"You better get in before you catch pneumonia or something, you idiot," she pulled on him again and hauled his soaking wet arm around her shoulders, gasping at his weight.

"I don' wanna hurt you," he tried to move away, "the wounds..."

"The wounds are nearly healed, I can barely feel them any more," she pulled him towards the door, "come on."

"Don'...don't take me to...don't take me my room..." he pleaded with her. "Don' wan' to...go through it all again."

"All again?" she asked, blinking.

"With Wanda..." his eyes were heavy, his body seemed to grow heavier still. "I can't fuck again tonight, too tired."

She blinked, processing the information. "What the hell am Ah supposed to do with your drunken ass?!" she demanded impatiently in an annoyed whisper. "Magneto will kill you-"

His head slumped forward and his body fell limp, she fell to her knees with him in between the door and the catwalk.

"Terrific," she uttered. It took some effort to drag him to her bedroom, it was odd she thought how much heavier someone was when they were out cold. It seemed as if he weighed close to three hundred pounds. He lay dripping rainwater on her rug as she closed the door, and she stared down at him not sure what to really do with him.

Maybe Ah should get Piotr. He'd know how to handle this, she thought running her hand through her hair. The problem was she still didn't feel quite right about being around Piotr following the incident with her powers.

Besides, it's past eleven, he's probably asleep...which is what Ah should be instead of dealing with this mess.

"Goddamn you, Remy LeBeau," she uttered as she kicked his thigh stubbornly, hoping he wouldn't bruise in the morning. She had a time of trying to pull the leather coat off of him, only to find that every stitch of clothing he had on was soaked through.

He's soaking, and freezing, she realised, she gave him a hard shake after hanging the coat on the back of her door. "Remy, wake up. Come on..." she smacked his face a few times with her leather gloved hand but he didn't wake much more than his eyes fluttering open for barely a second. He gave something of an incoherent mumble before passing back out. She pried his eyes open but even this did little to disturb him.

There was no question about it that she would have to get the wet clothes off of him herself. The thought of having to undress him left her feeling squeamish and disturbed almost as much as the thought of what he'd apparently been doing with Wanda.

Dirty bastard, she thought, she smacked his face again. "Remy, wake up, I need to get these clothes off of you."

Trying to get him up into a sitting position was more of a task than she'd thought it would be. With great difficulty, she somehow managed alone to peel the wet t-shirt from him. Her eyes didn't miss the myriad of bruises from the obstacle course. She spotted on his neck the signs of what looked to be a hickey.

Wanda definitely likes to leave her mark, she thought feeling somewhat miserable as she laid him down as gently as she could. His body still had the faintest trace of his tan from the summer, the hint of tan lines from t-shirts and tank tops too. Tentatively she brushed her gloved fingers across a large bruise on his chest.

This must have hurt, she thought. He never even gave any indication he was ever in any pain. He's so good at hiding things...even when he's hurting.

For one moment, she considered taking her glove off, and touching him, interested to know him once again, to see his memories, his thoughts, his feelings. Maybe it'd help to understand why he'd done these stupid things as of late. Why he was so angry, why he was messing around with Wanda...why he'd done it again despite claiming he had no interest in doing so any more.

Her stomach churned and her moral compass told her no. How could Ah even think that? She wondered. It ain't right to mess with him when he isn't even conscious. She moved to untie and remove his boots, her eyes still on his face the entire time. He looked almost peaceful. He'd been missing so much sleep as of late, she couldn't blame him for passing out so easily.

With his boots off, she pulled him up awkwardly and fought for several minutes to move him onto the bed. His legs hung off, his jeans truly soaked through right to the thighs.

"What'd you do, LeBeau? Wade in a puddle?" she asked with a sigh as she unsurely reached to unbuckle his belt, her fingers shaking. She pulled her hands away and gave a strange, nervous laugh, her eyes averting.

Ah can't do this...what if...he isn't wearin' any underwear? What am Ah supposed to do then?

What would happen if he was left in freezing cold soaking wet jeans? Would he catch a cold? Get ill? She wasn't sure if those were just myths. She'd spent plenty of time in wet clothes herself, especially on the obstacle course, and she'd never gotten ill yet.

Never slept in the wet clothes though, she reminded herself. Fuck it, you know what Rogue, you're an adult, stop being such a little girl. If he isn't wearing boxers, then you can still throw a blanket over it. He's been naked in front of probably hundreds of girls, he's probably used to it by now anyway, he won't care when he gets up.

Unbuckling Remy's belt gave her a gnawing naughty feeling, and as she unbuttoned the fly of his jeans she was thankful to see that he was wearing a pair of boxers beneath. As she sat there on her knees, and began to tug on his jeans, she thought of the thousands of other girls her age tonight who might be doing the very same thing with young men.

But they're probably not just undressing a drunk, she reminded herself as with a hard tug, the jeans finally came free and slid down his legs with ease. She hung those and his t-shirt onto the hooks behind her door so they'd dry somewhat and she moved back to look at him, laying there half across her bed.

What would Wanda do to him? Rogue wondered. If she found him in this condition, would she...do things? Awkwardly, she raised his legs and moved them to get them onto her bed. He grunted in his sleep, but didn't wake. That's why he doesn't want to go to his room...in case she does find him like this...and starts...doin' things. The way he explained it this morning was like...she didn't care whether he wanted to or not...she'd just...do it.

How could she just...do that? How could she not care? Just...use someone? Just have sex regardless?

Rogue stared down at him, biting her lip a little. That kind of situation was something she'd never have to concern her about any time in the near future. If Magneto's machine couldn't do what he'd promised, perhaps she never would. She'd never be in that position, never know how it felt to be that close, that intimate.

"Remy?" Rogue asked, her voice softer than she'd spoken to him before. She moved his hair from his forehead with a sigh. "Remy, you awake?"

Nothing. A soft breath escaped but he did not awaken.

Curiously, just to see, she brushed the backs of her gloved fingers against his face, she heard the sound of his growth scrape the leather. God, Ah'm so mad at him, she thought unhappily. Her fingers trailed down his throat to his chest, she stopped herself.

What the hell are you doing? Taking advantage while he's out cold?

She winced at the thought. It's not like anything is going to happen...it's not like Ah'll hurt him...Ah won't go too far, Ah just...know it might be the only time.

Checking once again that he was truly asleep, she carefully climbed over him to straddle him, to look down upon him in the same way Wanda might have. She put her hands gently against his chest, exploring the firm muscle, letting her fingers trail down to his ribs, and the bumps of his washboard abs.

There was nothing truly intimate about what she was doing to him, and she felt no better for it. Her eyes watched her fingers as she brought them down to the waistband of his navy boxers and pushed them down just a little so she could follow the fine trail of hair leading from his naval.

She moved her glance to check he was still sleeping and found he was looking straight at her, his eyes sleepy, his mouth hanging open a little. She gave a little gasp and took her hands away from him.

"Remy..." she breathed, "Ah was just-"

He gave the oddest, weakest smile and brought his hand up to brush her hair from her shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed and opened, he was having a hard time remaining awake. "This one's different," he slurred.

"Huh?"

She felt his hands slide along her thighs first, then her hips and he flipped her with more ease than she'd have given him credit for considering his ridiculously drunken state.

"Remy..." she gasped as he rolled his hips against hers, his still soaking hair brushed against her forehead and she realised the proximity wasn't going to lead to anything positive. He dipped down and his lips came close to hers. Quickly she put both hands against his face and shook her head.

Did that just happen, did he just try to—did he try to...kiss me?

Hardly fazed by this, he rolled his hips again and she felt the hardness growing between them, her breath caught in her throat.

Is that...what Ah think it is?

"Oh my god..." she whispered, "Remy...stop, you need to stop..."

"Don' you want me?" he asked drunkenly, his eyes barely able to focus on hers. "Don' you want me in you?" he ground himself against her, and something occurred that she hadn't expected. She moaned as it brushed her just right and he gave a soft moan too.

Breath caught in her throat, she squeaked, "it's...not up for debate."

"Never stopped us before..."

What the fuck is that meant to mean? Does he think I'm Wanda? She wondered, she kept her gloved hands upon his face and tried to get him to look straight into her eyes, "Remy...wake up..."

"I don' wan' wake, this where I wan' be," he shifted, seeming to know exactly what he was doing and it made her moan again. His head slumped again in her hands and he nearly dropped as he passed out. Quickly she pulled herself out from under him while trying to prevent his face from brushing hers and as she climbed out from under him, he flopped down into the bedspread, face first.

She couldn't catch her breath.

What the hell just happened?! She asked, grasping handfuls of her hair, staring at the now passed-out-once-again Remy LeBeau in complete disbelief. He would have...he would have tried to go further...why? What was he thinking? Was he thinking?

She leaned back against the dresser, realising that now, there was absolutely no way she could sleep here tonight.

End of Part Twenty-Five

Oooh, they were so close, weren't they!

Thanks to everyone for the reviews, I'm glad people are liking the story and enjoying the frequent updates. I can't wait to post more (should be soon). 3 you all.