A/N: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 3, where Rogue, Remy, Scott, and Jean are in college.
The different universes and chapters will probably get confusing as more parts/chapters get added on, and I'm sorry about that. Nowadays, it's easier for me to write in short bursts, rather than longer, drawn-out chapters. And writing a little bit in one fic, and then moving on to write in another fic keeps me from getting too bored with writing out my own neurotic nonsense. So, if I all of a sudden have a different universe/AU in the next chapter, blame the plot bunnies for being so damn disorganized.
Rogue is still wary of her best friend, Jean, who claims that she isn't planning on fixing her up anymore. But for Rogue, the Cheshire cat smile that Jean has been sporting lately is a tad bit suspicious.
CHAPTER 4
Best Friend Battles
One of the things that Remy LeBeau hated most in the world was waiting.
He checked his watch for the third time. It wasn't like Scott Summers to be late. In fact, Scott Summers was normally painfully on time, if not early, for just about everything in his life. Remy couldn't even get him to arrive fashionably late for his high school prom a few years back.
So when Scott had offered to pick him up from the airport, Remy had expected his friend to be waiting for him at the curbside 'Arrival' area as soon as his flight from New Orleans had landed. Instead, Remy found himself sitting on an unforgiving metal bench with his beat-up duffle bag at his feet, wondering why Scott was twenty-five minutes late for the first time in his life.
Gon' give you another five minutes, Summers, Remy thought to himself, flicking open the cover on his Zippo lighter and then snapping it closed again. Somehow the rhythmic clicking soothed his irritated nerves. If ya not here by 12:30, den I'm gettin' an Uber t' ya apartment an' pickin' de lock on de door. Don' care how much ya bitch 'bout me breakin' an' enterin'… places dat I don' belong… illegal activites… blah blah blah…
Before Remy could continue on with his mental tirade, he spotted the familiar form of Scott's black SUV driving up to the waiting area. It parked at the curb a few feet away, and Remy could clearly see Scott's girlfriend, Jean, in the passage seat.
Mon Dieu, help me. If dis couyon is late 'cause he was out gettin' laid…
He didn't bother to complete the thought. Grabbing his duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Remy made his way toward them. Scott had gotten out of the driver's side and met him a few steps from the curb. They greeted each other with their usual one-armed bro-hug and a couple of rough pats on the back.
It didn't take long, though, before Remy broke the hug and gave Scott a light punch in the shoulder. "What de hell, homme? Was startin' t' t'ink ya were kidnapped by terrorists or shanghaied inta outer space or somet'ing."
Scott grinned at the Cajun's dramatics. "Nah, that would have been a cakewalk compared to the actual truth," he proclaimed. Moving closer, he confessed, "Jean and her best friend decided to tag along, and then they got into an argument about wardrobe options."
Remy raised an eyebrow in question. "Wardrobe options?"
Holding up his hands, Scott shrugged helplessly. "Don't ask me, man. I don't know what the big deal was. I just shut my mouth and stayed out of it, for my own sanity and safety." He walked back to the driver's side door and opened it.
"Ya a wuss," Remy called from the opposite side of the SUV. As he was passing Jean's door, she lowered the window.
"Hey, Remy," she said, leaning out a bit and smiling brightly at him. "It's been a while. Hope you don't mind us tagging along with you boys. We wanted to take you out to lunch."
"'We'?" he questioned as he pulled the back door open. His eyes fell to the third occupant in the vehicle. The young woman was clad in an unassuming black t-shirt, ripped jeans, and strappy sandals. Her auburn hair was done up in a rather messy bun, with white highlights framing her face. She was sporting a slight scowl, but visibly softened her expression when she turned to address him.
"Hey." She offered a little wave along with her greeting.
Jean twisted around from her seat in the front and made the introductions. "Anna, this is Remy LeBeau. Remy, this is my best friend, Anna Marie Darkholme."
Rogue snorted loudly, then crossed her arms over her chest and puffed a stray lock of hair off her forehead.
Remy glanced from one woman to the other as he climbed into the back seat, next to Jean's friend. The SUV started down the ramp and headed toward the exit. "Ev'ryt'in' okay?" he asked, using his foot to nudge his bag to a more comfortable spot on the floor.
"It's fine. Don't worry about it." Dismissively gesturing with her hand, Jean explained, "Anna just prefers to use her nickname rather than her actual given name, that's all."
"That's 'cause no one but you ever uses that name!" her friend shot back. The scowl made its second appearance.
"That's because it's the name your mothers gave you, so that's the one I'm going to use," Jean retorted matter-of-factly.
In the rearview mirror, Remy caught Scott's eye. The look on his face was unmistakable — See what I mean? He watched as his friend shook his head ever so slightly, as if warning him not to get involved. Remy chuckled, recalling Scott's earlier comment about staying out of the ladies' argument.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, Remy flashed a suave smile at Rogue, fully expecting her to be charmed as most women were when he used his talents at full force. To his surprise, she seemed to build a stronger shield by wrapping her arms tighter around herself.
Not one to be discouraged, Remy tried to charm her by drawing her into the conversation. "So, if you don' like bein' called Anna, den what do I call you, chère?"
"Def'nitely not that," she declared, her scowl deepening at the unfamiliar term he had used. "Whatever th' hell that means. Jus' call me Rogue, like ev'rybody else does — except fo' one person." She aimed the last few words at her friend, who only scoffed back at her.
Jean flipped down the overhead visor and adjusted its position, so that she could catch the Cajun's attention in the small mirror attached. "So, Remy, where do you want to go for lunch?"
~ oOo ~
"Dis place any good?" Remy asked Jean as the two of them settled down at a table for four, near one of the large windows overlooking the street. Scott and Rogue had both offered to order their food at the walk-up counter. Remy got the impression that Rogue needed a time-out away from her best friend, and Scott was apparently the designated peacemaker of their little group.
Jean took a quick glance around the interior of the fast-food Mexican restaurant that Remy had impulsively chosen by randomly pointing his finger out the window. "It's okay, I guess. It's only been open a couple of months. Anna's crazy about their potato wedges, though." She shrugged her shoulders. "That's probably why we come here."
Remy's gaze fell to the front of the establishment, where their two companions were in line at the counter. "So, what's de deal wit' you an' Rogue?"
"What do you mean?" Jean asked distractedly, setting her handbag on her lap and unzipping it. She rummaged around for a few minutes until she found the item she had been searching for. Pulling out a small bottle of hand sanitizer, she snapped it open and first offered it to Remy.
He extended an arm across the table and watched as she squeezed a small amount of the gel onto his upturned palm. He then rubbed his hands together, evenly distributing it on his skin. "You call her Anna on purpose — but you obviously jus' do it t' her piss off."
His astute observation caused Jean to pause for a second. No one else had ever noticed that before. After sanitizing her own hands, Jean snapped the bottle shut and placed it on the tabletop for Scott and Rogue to use later. She smirked at Remy when she locked gazes with him. "It's fun pissing her off, if you want to know the honest truth."
He quirked an eyebrow at her confession. "Really now?"
"Oh, yeah. Anna is absolutely the worst roommate to have — period." Jean leaned forward to explain further, capturing Remy's full attention. "As soon as she gets home, she sheds off all of her clothes like a snake. You can literally follow the trail from the front door to whatever room in the apartment she decides to hibernate in.
"She lets the dirty dishes pile up in the sink for at least a week, before making an attempt to wash them. And even then, it's only because she doesn't have any other clean plates or utensils to use by that time.
"She plays music way too loud, and at all hours of the day… and night. The same goes for when she's watching TV or a movie. It's like she's trying to wake the dead up. Seriously, the neighbors have called the cops on us a couple of times already."
With his brow furrowed in confusion, Remy questioned, "If she's all dat bad, den why don' you jus' move out or find another roommate?" He leaned back in his chair. Adding a second later, "Or even find another best friend, f'r dat matter."
Jean sighed at his comments. The tension seemed to thaw out of her shoulders, and she toyed with the plastic sanitizer bottle she had left on the table. "Because she's the best, best friend I could ever hope for. Back when we were in kindergarten, she stuck up for me when Lisa Greenwald was making fun of me and my red hair. I couldn't stop crying because Lisa was calling me 'carrot top' — never mind the fact that carrot tops are actually green, but I digress. Anna walked right up to Lisa and punched her square in the nose. It was a lucky thing she didn't break it. But Anna did get into big trouble for that. She never told our teacher the real reason why she punched Lisa. She just said that Lisa was being a bully and left it at that. She's been my best friend ever since."
Jean smiled softly at the memory. "Anna Marie is loyal to a fault, I'll give her that. If you're her friend, then you're her friend forever — whether you want to be or not," she joked with a lopsided grin. "She's the best, seriously."
Remy finally asked, "Is dat why ya tryin' t' fix me up wit' her?"
Feigning ignorance, Jean plastered an expression of surprise on her face. "What're you talking about, Remy? I'm not trying to set you two up. That's crazy."
He snorted. Her attempt at acting was laughable. "Yeah, right, Jeannie. You don' t'ink Scooter has been emailin' me all about ya matchmakin' crusade, an' how you roped him inta it?"
Jean looked away for a moment. Apparently, she had underestimated her boyfriend's chattiness with his buddies. "Yeah, well, I've been ordered to cease and desist," she declared, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "The high priestess has spoken, and I am not permitted to set her up on any more dates."
"An' are ya gon' follow dose directives, chère?"
"Of course not," Jean replied without hesitation. "For exactly the same reason I call her 'Anna' instead of 'Rogue' — because it's just way too much fun pissing her off. If she's particularly mad at me, there's this vein in her neck that seems to throb out of control. You should see it."
Remy couldn't help but chuckle at her gall. Jean didn't seem to be the least bit worried about her friend's temper. Just from his own observations that afternoon, Remy deduced that Rogue could easily rip a person to shreds, if anyone ever crossed her. She seemed the type to speak her mind whenever and wherever she wanted, and she wouldn't be polite about it either. Not only was Jean not afraid of Rogue's temper, but she was intentionally poking at it and trying to stoke the embers into an all-out inferno. Remy didn't know if she was over confident or just plain self-destructive. Either way, it wouldn't be the first time that Remy thought Jean was a great match for Scott. She would definitely keep him on his toes. That was for sure.
"Anyhow, even if I was trying to get the two of you together," she continued, circling back to his question, "you wouldn't want to get involved with someone like Anna. I really meant what I said; she's the worst. She's too temperamental, too moody. She's way too much for you to handle, Remy, believe me."
He smirked at her assessment. "You t'ink so, chère?"
"Oh, yeah," she confirmed, nodding her head for emphasis. "Besides, didn't you tell Scott that you're seeing someone back home? Bella something or the other?"
Remy made a pfft sound and waved a hand indifferently. "Dat's a matter o' opinion," he grumbled, promptly dismissing the subject.
"You don't think Scott has been telling me all about your fling with Bella Donna Boudreaux?" she inquired, rephrasing his earlier statement and throwing it back at him. She grinned slyly at the uncomfortable way he squirmed in his seat.
"Told Scottie he never should've started goin' out wit' you," Remy mumbled under his breath. To his immediate relief, he saw that Scott and Rogue were already making their way back to their table, each loaded with a tray full of food.
"You love me too and you know it," Jean whispered hurriedly, just before the other half of their group came into earshot.
This time, it was Remy's turn to scowl.
