Title: Watching and Waiting

Author: Chris (teufelce@aol.co)

Website: none

Rating: NC-17 for m/m connotations

Pairing / Main characters: Wolverine/Gambit

Series/Sequel: unfinished, parts 1-8

Summary: Slash. Unexpected change and late night surprises.

Disclaimer: The characters and universe of X-Men are the property of 20th Century Fox and the Marvel Entertainment Group. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement is intended.

Archive/Distribution: If you want it - please just let me know where.

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing slash, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Thanks to: First and foremost, Lee - for convincing me to do this. And to Z and Jo - for always being there when I needed yoou- thanks, mates.

 /..../ - indicates thoughts

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Watching and Waiting 1

By Chris

 

The Professor had never forbidden any of them from having 'company' in their rooms. So long as they were discreet about it and the children at the school were not endangered, he left them to the privacy of their own lives. Which was as it should be, and Logan respected him for that.

It had been well over three months since Rogue had made it abundantly clear that her relationship with Remy LeBeau was over. The day she'd exploded in his face, after a session in the Danger Room, was one that Logan wasn't likely to forget any time soon. He'd been on his way to the room himself, intent on working off the day's frustrations, when he'd heard the shouting. Rogue's angry voice had carried through even the thickest metal walls.

"I told ya, Remy, it's over! I'm tired of knowing it's not me you're thinking about and I ain't gonna play second fiddle anymore!" Then she was out the doors and barreling past where Logan was standing. He was on the verge of turning around and heading back to his room, when the tall Cajun thief had slowly appeared in the open doorway. He froze in shock at the sight of Logan, and the look in his red and black eyes was... haunted. Not knowing why he felt such a stab of pain at the overwhelming sadness in those eyes, and feeling the need to say something - ANYTHING - Logan spoke quietly.

"Remy... I'm sorry..." The Cajun had started at the sound of his gruff voice breaking the silence and then he was gone without a word, striding quickly down the corridor to the elevators. He'd watched the spot where those slumped shoulders had disappeared for several long moments before finally shrugging it off and going into the Danger Room.

They didn't see much of Remy around the mansion that following week. He'd retreated into his room and replied in monosyllables when spoken to. The others had tiptoed around, respecting his need for privacy and careful to avoid mentioning Rogue in his presence. And then the week was over and he was his old self again - the mask of charm and wit sliding back into place. Logan was the only one who suspected that he wasn't as unaffected as he pretended to be. That underneath that mask was a welter of emotions, that behind those smiling eyes still lurked that sadness he'd seen a flash of that day. But the Cajun showed no desire to talk about it, so he just waited and watched.

Watched as, almost every night, a different person came home on Remy's arm and disappeared into his room. Male or female, it didn't seem to matter to the thief. They were always gone by the next morning and the other members of the team simply put it down to Remy returning to his loose ways on the rebound from Rogue. But it bothered Logan. He didn't know why - what the man did behind his door was no business of his. Somehow, though, it had gotten under his skin, burning like needles buried in his flesh every time he saw a different face walk in the door. Every time he smelled a different scent lingering outside the Cajun's room.

Tonight had been no different. Unable to sleep and feeling claustrophobic, Logan had gone up to the roof to smoke. He sat on the edge, staring out into the night as his cigar sent rings of smoke up into the sky, not thinking of anything in particular. But, as they had so often lately, his thoughts turned to Remy. The way the thief had looked at him that day... it had burned itself into his brain. The pain that had been so obvious weighed heavily on him. But there had been a flicker of something else there. Something that had run deeper than the pain, something that had only appeared in those eyes when the Cajun had seen him standing there in the hallway. The briefest flash of heat, of want, of need. And then he'd disappeared and Logan had begun to doubt what he'd seen. Began to wonder if it was only in his imagination. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the Cajun's face again and he knew, he *knew* that he'd been right.

Not that he had any idea in hell what he was going to do about it. There'd been one time, very long ago.... but only that once. Nothing more than a barely remembered, drunken grope in a bathroom. Not something he'd regretted, but not something he'd ever pursued either. The thief, though... Thoughts of that tall, lean body, those beautiful eyes.... well, they stirred up feelings he hadn't experienced in a long time. Ones he wasn't quite sure how to deal with...

Logan's quiet musings were interrupted by the sound of the front door to the mansion opening and slamming shut again. He looked out over the edge of the roof, in time to see Remy's latest 'date' walking quickly to where his car was parked, and then he was gone in a shower of gravel.

"Must be an early night," he muttered, grinding out his cigar against the cement of the rooftop. Climbing slowly to his feet, he headed for the door leading down into the school. Figuring he'd stop by the kitchen, grab a few beers and then retire to his room and hope for sleep.

~~~~~~

Logan padded silently through the empty halls of the mansion. At 2 am, everyone else had long since gone to bed and he made his way to the kitchen without seeing a single face.

Flicking the lights in the kitchen on, he winced and squinted his eyes as the bright metal surfaces reflected back at him. Everything neat and clean, sterile... reminded him of the damn medlab. Cold and efficient, and devoid of any comfort. Shaking his head against the morose thoughts streaming through it, he muttered out loud, "It's just a fucking kitchen..." He yanked open the industrial-sized refrigerator door and grabbed a beer from the bottom shelf. Popping the top against the counter, he put the smooth glass to his lips and swallowed, closing his eyes and letting the cold liquid wash away the dryness in his throat. That was when a hand suddenly closed on his shoulder.

He was moving before the bottle shattered against the tile floor - spinning to grab his attacker and shovve them up against the wall, the claws of his right hand shooting out to press against their throat. Adrenaline was pumping overtime through his bloodstream and it took him a moment to realize that wide, red and black eyes were staring at him over the metal gleam of his claws. Claws which retracted as quickly as they had appeared.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Remy!! You know better than to sneak up on me - I could've killed you!" he snarled out, shaken by just how close he'd come to punching three gaping holes in that neck. The one just above the deep wine-coloured silk shirt his fingers were still wrapped tightly in...

"Would you?" Startled by the despondency bleeding out of the Cajun's voice, Logan's eyes snapped back up to his face. Meeting hooded eyes that stared back at him. /You're still holding on to his shirt/, a small inner voice pointed out. /Let go.../ Instead, his fingers tightened and he growled and he leaned closer, glaring up at the taller man.

"What the hell kind of question is that?!" He sniffed and smelled liquor on the Cajun's breath. "You drunk?" That got a mirthless laugh and a barely audible reply.

"Not enough, homme, not enough..." Then the look in the thief's eyes turned pensive as he took in the agitated expression on Logan's face. "Nah, Remy don' t'ink you could..." he said louder, a slow smile spreading across his face. Logan swallowed past the sudden tightening in his throat, his eyes dropping to the soft curve of those lips...

"Could do what?" he asked, forcing himself to focus again on the Cajun's eyes. Was it in his imagination or was that same look he'd seen a glimpse of three months ago back in those shuttered eyes... His breathing grew harsher and he struggled keep his hand from shaking.

"Kill Remy..." The response to his question was soft, like liquid velvet wrapped inside that accent. A gleam sparked in the Cajun's eyes as he looked down at the fist that still clenched the collar of his silk shirt. When he looked back up at Logan, gone was the despair from his expression, replaced by a confidence and genuine relief that sent a shiver down Logan's spine. Something nameless danced in those eyes as the thief leaned forward slightly. "Sides, Remy not so sure dat what he want anymore..."

"Want...?" His own voice sounded harsh in his ears as his eyes fell unbidden again to those lips. The ones that curved up into a grin as the Cajun spoke.

"Oui, chere, dat's right... Remy t'ink he want something else..." The taller man's face was inches from his own now and Logan had to fight to speak.

"What... " The grin grew wider and that voice was like a purr in his ears.

"Remy want you, cher..." His breathing stopped and his whole body stilled. He opened his mouth to speak and then those lips were on his and they felt as soft as they'd looked...

Molten desire ran rampant through his body, as he felt the Cajun's fingers twine themselves in the tousled hair at the back of his head, pressing him more firmly into the kiss. Stubble rasped against the skin of his cheek and his hand spasmed tighter around the thief's shirt, the muscles in his back shuddering against the sudden sensation of long nimble fingers kneading against them. A tongue slicked across his lips, teeth nibbling gently, begging entrance and his eyes slid shut as he granted it. Remy's tongue danced against his own, suckling it, and a moan was dragged from his throat as he felt those fingers move from his back to his chest, nails scraping against taut nipples. The fingers in his hair pulled his head back none too gently, arching his neck as his eyes fluttered open to stare unseeing at the ceiling. Remy's kisses bruising and suckling at the skin of his neck...

As suddenly as it had begun, the assault was over. Remy was stepping back from him and he groaned in protest, his head falling forward again on weakened muscles. The Cajun was looking at him with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Remy t'ink he need some sleep now, cher... We take dis up again tomorrow... if you want..." A soft caress of fingertips across his chafed lips and then the thief was gone from the kitchen. A glassy eyed Logan staring after him, struggling to make sense of what the hell had just happened...

 

Go on to Part2