A Score To Settle

Brock Rumlow/Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Rumbit? SNIGGER these are RIDICULOUS!

Theme song:

G.U.N. – Steal Your Fire

Remy hummed softly under his breath as he expertly picked the lock. This was his favourite kind of job, being paid to steal from a man he'd gladly have robbed blind for free. Disabling the alarm before he opened the door, he slid inside, a silent shadow, darted quietly through the darkened house. The owner was out at a dinner – one being given by Remy's current employer. The house was all Remy's. He came to the door he was looking for, opened it and slid inside – and came face to face with the barrel of a pistol.

"Merde."

Brock Rumlow blinked with shock. It was all the time the other man needed, apparently, to lash out and grab the pistol barrel, moving ridiculously quickly. Brock had a few surprises up his own sleeve, though, and moved just as fast to kick the intruder in the kneecap.

The intruder twisted lithely away from the strike, tried to use Brock's grip on the gun to pull him forward – he'd likely try and snap Brock's elbow inside out if he did – so Brock feinted, let him pull him forward part-way as if he was going to fall for the move, before letting go of the gun and using his built-up momentum to get in a strike to the solar-plexus.

Remy could hardly believe how fast the other man moved, fast as a striking snake and deft, obviously superbly trained in the most brutal fighting techniques. The hit to his chest was hard enough to have sent any normal man flying.

But Remy LeBeau was no ordinary man, and he'd had quite enough of this shit. "Not today, cafard," he snapped, swept the guard off his feet with a superbly placed leg strike when the other man was still waiting for him to go down from the chest hit, and an instant later had his hand poised to strike, violet light glowing around it. In the light of his magic, he finally got a good look at the other man's face. Wow, hot stuff, dark Italianate good looks, heavy-lidded eyes, a mouth made for sin, heavy black stubble that Remy would just love to feel against his skin.

"It would be a shame to kill you, handsome," he growled. "So just lie still and I won't have to fuck up that pretty face, either."

"Be a real shame if you had to do either," Brock quipped.

The violet light blinked out, but not before he saw the utter shock in the other man's expression. An instant later he'd twisted and flipped, reversing their positions, sitting up on the intruder's stomach, a second gun pointed at his face.

"I'm thinking that you're just about as shocked as I am right now. So let's start again. Hi. I'm Brock Rumlow, and I think I'm your soulmate?"

The intruder stared at him for a moment and then smiled slowly, making a seriously attractive face look even more handsome. "Mon plaisir. I am Remy – Remy LeBeau."

"The thief," Brock nodded slowly.

"You were expecting me, then? Ah, the perils of accepting jobs from those amoral enough to pay a thief. He sold me out, my employer?"

"For a good deal of money," Brock agreed. "Plus enough to pay me to apprehend you – alive. My employer wants you rather badly to pay out so much, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oui. So, mon âme soeur," Remy folded his hands behind his head and relaxed, quite at his ease despite the gun Brock still had pointing at his face, "shall we figure out how to collect on all that lovely money together? Or shall we ah, pleasure ourselves first," his eyes cut downwards towards Brock's groin, "and plot our sweet revenge later?"

The Cajun was gorgeous, and his accent was doing extremely good things to Brock's insides. His cock hardened, and Remy grinned shamelessly up at him, rocked his hips so Brock could feel his own arousal.

"Do you have two marks?" he checked first. He really didn't want to end up the plot of a bad horror movie.

"Oui. Et tu? Do you know our third?" Remy looked hopeful, and Brock blinked with a sudden realisation. He was born with the word Merde on his ribs. Remy was older than him, though he looked a good deal younger.

"I'm afraid not," he admitted. Sheathed his gun and pulled up his shirt to show the words on his stomach. You're not who I expected.

"You're sitting on my second set," Remy wiggled his hips suggestively, and Brock moved back to pull up the Cajun's shirt, look at the matching scribble. Why didn't that work? That always works normally! It worked on a freaking god, so what are you?

Brock couldn't help but grin. "Well, she's more of a chatty Cathy than I'd always thought. She sounds like fun."

"I'm dying to meet her." Remy's eyes dropped to his groin again, and he licked his lips meaningfully. "Been very much looking forward to meeting you too."

He had a gorgeous mouth, soft pink lips, and Brock lost it, leaning forward to kiss him hungrily. Remy lost no time kissing him back, pulling his hands from behind his head and slipping his arms around Brock's neck, rocking his hips as Brock ground against him. The kiss was ferocious, all teeth and tongues, Brock's stubble rasping against Remy's own.

The sound of a door slamming elsewhere in the house made both of them freeze. Brock jerked his head up, met Remy's eyes.

Remy sighed. "Business first, pleasure later, mon cœur?"

"Definitely." Brock stood, retrieved his other gun. Offered it to Remy, who he was pretty sure was unarmed. The Cajun grinned as he got to his feet.

"Non, merci. I have weapons enough." He slipped a pack of playing cards from his coat pocket, fanned them between his fingers, smirked at Brock's puzzled expression. "You'll see. Now come. I have a score to settle."

French translations

Merde – shit

Cochon – pig

Mon plaisir – my pleasure

mon âme soeur – my soul mate

Oui. Et tu? – Yes. And you?

mon cœur – my heart

And yes, this is Part 1 of 2, the second part where they find their third will go up tomorrow ;)