Title: Watching and Waiting
Author: Chris (teufelce@aol.co)
Website: none
__________________________________________________________________
Watching and Waiting 3
By Chris
Remy had been genuinely offended by his words... Logan stood under the shower head, hands flat against the tiled wall, and let the water run over his head to run in rivulets down his still body. Letting the hot spray wash away the stale sweat, leaving his mind free to dwell. Ever since that first kiss, he'd half convinced himself that the Cajun had been drunk. Hadn't cared who it was, so long as it was a warm body... Now he wasn't so sure. The wounded look he'd seen in the thief's eyes, before the rage swallowed it up, hadn't been feigned. - it had been too strong, run too deep for it to be anything but real. Logan had the sinking feeling that he may have irreversibly damaged a relationship that he no longer had a word for and, surprisingly, that bothered him. Not because he'd hurt a team mate. Not because he'd hurt a friend. But because he'd hurt someone who... cared about him. Someone, he was beginning to suspect, he himself cared a great deal about. And he had no idea how to repair the harm he'd caused with his unthinking words...
With a growl of frustration, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. After running a clean towel through his hair and over his skin with cursory roughness, he threw it into the hamper and pulled on a pair of jeans. Padding silently on bare feet back into his room, he slumped into a chair and stared morosely out the window. Replaying over and over in his mind the tormented look in those alluring red and black eyes... A soft, hesitant knock at his door snapped him out of his reverie with a growl.
"Yeah."
"Logan, it is I, Ororo... May I come in?" /Here it comes,/ he thought bitterly, /'send Storm up to find out what's wrong with him' time.../
"Door's unlocked." After a momentary pause, the door swung open and the white haired and ebony skinned woman walked in slowly. She carefully shut the door behind her, before turning to face where he still sat sprawled in the chair. Her eyes swept over him, quickly taking in his dejected and sullen demeanor, before finally meeting his eyes. The concern he saw there surprised him a little.
"Logan," she began, her voice soft and soothing. "Is there something troubling you?" As she spoke, she scanned the room for another seat, eventually settling herself on the corner of his bed. /Right on schedule.../, he sighed.
"What makes you think anything's wrong with me, 'Ro?" He raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his face.
"Well, for one thing, your... odd behaviour this morning." Her gaze was speculative as she continued to look at him, waiting for an answer. Logan turned his head back to the window, and was about to feed her a lie about having another round of nightmares, when she spoke again. Her voice even softer than before. Compassionate... "Logan... is it Remy?" His head whipped back around to face her so fast, he couldn've sworn he heard a bone crack.
"Why do you think that damn thief has anything to do with how I feel?" His voice was harsh and unsteady, and he cursed himself inwardly as he realized the very way he'd responded answered her question for him. The smile that spread from her eyes to her face only confirmed it.
"Logan," she chided softly, "anyone with eyes could see that your unsettled state increased greatly once Remy entered the room." Ororo hesitated for a slight moment over her next choice of words, and Logan's eyes narrowed. Chances were, he wasn't going to like what she had to say anymore than he liked the way the whole conversation was headed. "Also, Remy has spoken to me already." The air turned solid in his lungs and he had to choke out a reply.
"What?!" Ororo's eyes twinkled with amusement at the flush creeping across his cheeks, but her words remained soft and compassionate.
"Remy is a very private man. He does not often speak about matters that trouble his heart. But sometimes, he finds solace in a willing ear, and he has always honored me when those moments come. Recently," she said, lifting an eyebrow, "these talks have revolved more and more around a certain reclusive Canadian." Logan coughed harshly, in a vain attempt to hide the grin that was threatening to spread over his face. The damn thief had been talking, about *him*. Trying to cover the fact that that idea gave him a thrill of happiness, he forced his face into a frown and snorted derisively.
"Yeah, well, if he's so smitten, then why the hell has he been sleeping with everything that moves for the past three months?" The smile vanished from Ororo's eyes and she stared at him for a long moment, before leaning forwards.
"You tell me, Logan." Her words forced him to think about what he'd already been trying to force from his mind. Forced him to think... and what he realized surprised him.
"Because he's scared." /Just as scared as I am.../ he left unspoken. He looked up at her and found her smiling again.
"Yes, Logan. He is scared - scared of rejection, scared of the emotional pain that opening ourselves up to someone leaves us vulnerable to. One thing I do know about Remy, though, is that once he has made up his mind, his perserverance is admirable. Not unlike someone else I know..." He did grin this time, knowing full well just who those words were directed at. Seeing him finally smile, Ororo leaned back and continued. "So, Logan, have you made up *your* mind?" His grin slowly faded and he ran a tired hand over his face.
"I need a little more time to think, 'Ro... think I'll take a ride into town for a couple of beers. But yeah, I think I have..." The beatific smile she bestowed on him as she stood almost made the discomfort of talking about something so personal worth it.
"All right, Logan. But do not leave it too long?"
"I won't, 'Ro. Now get out of here so I can finish getting dressed." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Unless you want to stay and help?" Her laugh rang out like the sound of bells and she walked swiftly to the door, turning once for a parting remark.
"No, Logan... although I do believe there is someone else who would be more than happy to accept your invitation." She closed the door on his barking laugh and Logan felt some of the weight that he'd held inside lift. A few beers to unwind, and then he and the Cajun were overdue for a talk.
~~~~~~
The smoke filled bar was the perfect place for Logan to find a quiet corner to be alone with his beer and his thoughts. Okay, his fifth beer and his thoughts... The other denizens of the bar were loud and raucous, standing in groups around the pool tables, hunched over the bar, and filling every other booth to capacity. And yet no one had challenged Logan to his claim on the corner booth in the back. One look into his eyes, and the only drunken slob who'd contemplated it had turned and walked away without a word. So there he was, with just his beer and his thoughts. The talk with Ororo had gone a long way towards resolving what it was he wanted. He couldn't kid himself any longer - he wanted the thief. Now that he knew that the other man had been watching him, had feelings for him, for far longer than he'd originally suspected, his reservations were vanishing one by one. Now he just had to figure out what he was going to *do* about it. If it'd been a woman, he'd have had no problems, no hesitations, in making his feelings known. But this... this was a whole new experience for him and for once, he was at a loss for what to do. Thanks to the heavy stench of smoke, alcohol and stale sweat, he didn't smell the man approaching behind him until a shadow spread across the table. His head started to turn, a scowl on his face, when the voice stopped him.
"Dis seat taken, cher?" Speak of the devil... His head continued its rotation, albeit far more slowly, and soon he was looking up at the tall thief. Who, underneath his trademark trenchcoat, was wearing a rich, emerald silk shirt that only served to outline every one of the muscles in his lean abdomen. He managed to drag his eyes up that torso until they met the other man's eyes. Eyes that were darkening at his obvious appreciation. He coughed and motioned at the seat opposite him.
"Nah... feel free..." With smooth grace, Remy slid into the booth and let his coat fall from his shoulders. Leaning forward, forearms on the table between them, he quirked an eyebrow.
"So, cher, dis de kind of place you like to spend your time, eh?" The red and black eyes scanned the room, amusement evident on his face. Logan laughed in response and those eyes turned back to him.
"Yeah, well, it is when I want a place to go and think." The amusement vanished from Remy's face and he leaned back slightly, his expression now guarded.
"Think... about what, cher?" The voice was carefully void of emotion but, beneath all other smells filling the room, Logan caught a wiff of fear and anxiety from the other man. And he felt his heart squeeze in response. How could he have ever doubted what Remy was feeling...
"Someone once said I needed to make up my mind about what I wanted. So I was making up my mind."
"And... have you?"
"Yeah, I have."
"What do you want then, Logan?" The Cajun's accent had thickened with each word and Logan wasn't sure he was even breathing any more as he waited for a reply. He stared for a long moment into his beer, before slowly raising his eyes to stare into the other man's.
"I want you, Remy." His voice was husky, and he could feel sweat slicking the palms of his hands, but well, he *had* made up his mind. No more hiding it. No more dancing around it. Remy's breath left his lungs with a soft hiss, the sly, sultry smile that spread over his face making Logan's mouth dry and his own breath quicken.
"Remy so glad to hear that, cher... So very glad..." The thief reached out and brushed his fingers across the back of Logan's hand. The contact sent a frisson of desire shooting through him and he jumped slightly. The Cajun's smile widened, a wicked glint entering his eyes. "Relax, cher, Remy don' bite... not unless you ask him to." Logan laughed low in his throat and turned his hand over, so that the fingers continued to stroke the palm of his hand.
"And maybe you've bitten off more than you can handle." It was Remy's turn to laugh and it was the kind of laugh that felt like velvet against Logan's skin. He shivered again and the fingers stroking his palm increased their pressure for a moment.
"Why don't we find out about that, cher?" The invitation was there in the thief's voice, his eyes hooded by his own desire, but Logan could still see a flash of uncertainty there. Worry that maybe he'd been too bold... Logan grabbed Remy's hand, stilling its motion and leaned in.
"Yeah, I think maybe we should get out of here. Now." The unease disappeared from the Cajun's eyes at the tone of Logan's voice and he leaned back.
"Dat sound like a damn fine idea, cher," he said, laughing as he stood. "But first, Remy gonna go use de men's room." He leaned in close to the still seated Logan and brushed his fingers lazily across one stubbled cheek. Logan felt himself beginning to harden and managed to growl out a response.
"Make it quick." The rich sound of the thief's laugh brushed against his insides, sending liquid heat through every cell.
"Nah, cher, Remy gonna make it slow. Real slow..." Then the man was gone, swaggering across the bar to the door set against the back wall. Logan let out a rough sigh and downed the remainder of his beer in one swallow. Just a few brief touches, and he could already feel the lust clouding his mind... "Damn Cajun's gonna be the death of me... " he muttered, chuckling under his breath. Hell, he felt more alive than he had in a very long time, and all because of the attention of one tall, lean charming thief...
He saw Remy exit the restroom and begin to make his way through the crowd towards him, the same sly smile back on his face as he noticed the way Logan's eyes followed his movements. As the Cajun passed one of the booths, a large, burly man slapped him on the ass and Logan heard one word distinctly - 'faggot'. A low growl began to build in his chest and he started to rise from his seat, as Remy turned to face the man, bending down to whisper something too low for Logan to hear. Then he was turning away, a smirk on his face. Apparently oblivious to the now red-faced drunk rising up behind him with a beer bottle in hand. The beer bottle snapped down to break against the table and Logan was moving before the sound had even died down. He shoved Remy roughly out of the way, raising his arm up to take the downward swing of the broken bottle. Felt the sharp glass tear right through his shirt and into his forearm, splattering blood onto the floor. The growl built until it became a snarl, as the edges of his vision began to tinge red.
"I was angry that you bothered my friend, bub, but now I'm really pissed off." The other man's smirk died on his face as he watched through the torn shirt as the wounds on Logan's arm slowly knit together and closed. He looked into the shorter man's enraged eyes, mouthed the word 'freak' silently, and began to back away. Logan started to move forward, when Remy's hand on the small of his back stopped him. Soft words from close behind his ear spliced through the rage and he took several deep breaths.
"Non, cher, he not worth it. We jus' go now, and all is forgotten, non?" The large man's head nodded so fast, it was a wonder it didn't fall from his thick neck. Logan sighed and shook himself, letting the rage bleed out of him, but he stared at the other man for a long moment before nodding himself. Then Remy was handing him his jacket and guiding him out the door.
In the cold air of the parking lot, Logan looked from where he'd parked the jeep to where Remy's Harley stood.
"So..." he coughed, uncertain of what to say next. Uncertain of what to *do* next.
"So..." came the soft whisper in his ear, a strong hand running up inside the front of his jacket. Long fingers splaying against his suddenly heaving chest... "Remy t'ink we take de bike back to de mansion, non? Such a fine night for a ride..." Logan nodded mutely, mouth gone dry again, and let the thief take his hand and lead him to the bike. Watched as Remy swung one long leg over it and patted the seat behind him. "Hop on, cher." Before his nervousness could get the better of him, Logan swung up behind the taller man and settled down against the leather seat. Strong hands reached back to grab his arms and wrap them around the thief's waist. "Now hold on tight, cher - wouldn' want you fallin' off now."
"No need to worry about that," Logan muttered, distracted by the feel of that lean, muscled torso underneath his hands. That, and the growing hardness in his groin... As if reading his mind, Remy shifted his hips until his ass sat snugly between Logan's thighs and he couldn't stifle the groan that escaped his lips at the delicious friction. Anything else was lost against the roar of the engine as Remy started the bike and tore out of the parking lot at a speed that had Logan's arms tightening instantly. A sensation the thief didn't seem to mind, as he leaned back a little into the embrace and pointed the bike towards the mansion. Logan relaxed after a few moments, and let his cheek fall to rest against the soft trenchcoat, revelling in the unique, spicy fragrance that was Remy with each breath, and the feel of those taut muscles against his fingers. He found himself looking forward to what it would feel like to run his fingers over that bare skin with an eagerness that surprised him. And yet... it felt right. He smiled against the Cajun's shoulder and let himself get lost in the sensations, trusting the thief to get them home in one piece.