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CHAPTER FIVE: TAINTED LOVE

That arrogant sonofabitch!

Marie dug her hands into her pockets and pulled her leather jacket tighter across her chest. Muttering venomously about what she’d like to do to a certain growly Canadian if she had her hands around his throat and access to some adamantium. Ah mean, she groused, Who the Hell does he think he is? Where the Hell does he get off telling me who Remy will or won’t want? Beside her a car honked loudly, finally cluing her into the fact that she was crossing Conti Street and heading ever further from the small area of the French Quarter she was actually familiar with: Rogue wasn’t sure whether she was heading towards the waterfront or Treme but she suspected that neither direction would be good for her-

After all, she didn’t want to have to call His Hairiness if she got lost.

In fact, she was reasonably sure she never wanted to talk to His Hairiness again.

For any reason.

“You okay, chere?” a familiar voice intruded then.

She looked up at the words and immediately an ageing Camero spun by her, very nearly clipping her. She just had time to yelp before two arms- two muscled, tattooed, after-shave scented arms, she noted- grabbed her and deposited her back on the sidewalk. A pair of warm brown eyes- Remy’s- peering into hers as she tried to catch her breath. Marie blushed: she wasn’t clumsy as a general rule, she was really just that pissed at Logan. And now she’d made an idiot of herself in front of this gorgeous man for the second time in a day. The Cajun was looking worriedly at her, both hands still gripping the tops of her arms where he’d lifted her onto the sidewalk: This close she could see the length of his eyelashes, the light scrub of stubble across his jaw- And his lips. Oh Lord, she could see those. Some part of her, some usually-suppressed, you-have-a-terrifying-mutation-which-kills-people part of her that normally held her hormones in check was dying to find out just what those lips would feel like against her own- Against her mouth, her throat, her collarbone-Her Hello Kitty panties-

“Are you sure you’re okay, chere?” he repeated dryly then. Which, given that she was staring at him like she’d received a concussion- or he was a slice of devil’s food cake on display on the last day of Lent- wasn’t all that weird.

Immediately Marie snapped out of her would-be trip to Happy Land.

“Ah’m fine,” she growled.

“You certainly are.” And a smile quirked that perfect mouth, one eyebrow cocked. For a moment the expression reminding her so much of Logan that she had to fight back the urge to thump him. Remy must’ve recognised her reaction because his smile grew wider, laughter lighting his features; It was strange, but he looked like the type of man who laughed easily and often, a far cry from the Wolverine and his death-and-me-are-Molson-buddies stoicism. Embarrassed now, Marie went to pull away but without a word of warning LeBeau stopped her, pushing one of her stripes behind her ear. Stepping closer to her than most people dared to her, his breath ghosting across her lips-

Which she licked. Slowly.

Way to play it cool, Rogue, she mused.

“You know, Armed,” Remy was drawling now, “Most women say thank you when they get a compliment-”

Marie narrowed her eyes: She didn’t appreciate being reminded of her slip back at the bar. “Most men don’t give compliments expecting something in return,” she retorted. “Besides, what kinda lady would Ah be if Ah let you lead me inta the path o’ temptation?”

“The kinda lady Ah’m surely not used to courting.”

“You wanna court me?” Somehow, it seemed more of a Logan kind of a word.

“Darlin’,” Remy was drawling, “Ah wanna do far more than court you. But such a lady-like vision would hardly be interested in sinning her way t’Paradise with a scoundrel like me…Or would you?” And he waggled his eyebrows as he kissed her knuckles.

Despite herself Rogue giggled.

It had been so long since she’d done something so girly she decided to do it again.

Apparently it was all the encouragement Remy needed, because he began leading her through traffic then. Picking her up and spinning her onto the path beside him when another driver decided to try and run her over in order to get to work. Smiling at her like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life, not a grimace or growl in sight. A girl could get used to this. “You see, Armed,” he was grinning, “That little laugh wasn’t so hard, was it? And now Ah know you can do it, Ah think Ah’m gonna have t’make ya do it again… Just as soon as we get your poor Yankified self some proper coffee.” And he twined his arm more tightly in hers, leading her nonchalantly through the crowds as if they did this every day. One hand resting on the top of her knuckles, its weight warm against her gloves. It felt- It felt carefree. Which was one thing Rogue hadn’t felt in years. In fact, not since she’d met Logan-

Despite herself, she pushed that thought quickly away.

Remy noticed however. “You okay, chere?”

Marie shrugged: She really didn’t feel like discussing Logan with him when things were going so well. After all, bringing the Wolverine into any conversation with a man she wanted to date was a bad idea, as every one of her exes could attest. “Nah,” she said, “Ah’m just tired-”

“So you no worrying about the hairy Canadian back at the bar?” And he all but batted his eyelashes, his expression so disarmingly innocent Marie couldn’t be sure she wasn’t being played.

“Why would Ah be worrying about him?” she bit out.

Now it was LeBeau’s turn to shrug. “Ah no know, all the women Logan has brought to mah place have all been kinda hung up on him, ya know? At think it’s the growling, makes the ladies act all crazy-like-”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you saying Ah’m acting crazy-like?”

“You, chere? No, you perfect.” He leaned confidentially close. “But like Ah said, the amount o’ women Ah seen that man go through? It’s like he’s putting the easy into Big Easy-”

“What? What women?” she demanded. “Who are these women?”

Again with the angelic shrug. “Ah no know, barflies, strippers, more than one super-powered babe. The Black Widow. Bethany Cabe. Angelica Jones. Mary-Jane Watson- before she got the nose job. It ain’t like mah boy’s choosy-”

Her voice was tiny. “He’s not?”

Remy flashed her a grin. “Hell no! He don’t mind so long as they have red hair-Says the perfect woman gotta have red hair, that no other hair colour will do. It’s why he liked you so much: No temptation.” He made a mock disapproving face. “Of course, Ah prefer brunettes mahself-” And he trailed off. Grinning widely.

Apparently oblivious to that fact that he’d made an absolutely fatal error in telling Rogue that.

Because suddenly Marie wasn’t listening. At least not to him. She was too busy seething with rage, listening as her inner monologue counted off the many, many, many times she had had to deal with Logan’s damn redhead fetish in the past. Remembering every ginger stick-insect barfly she’d had to make uncomfortable small-talk with as she drove them outta the Mansion. Remembering Logan the Asshole’s tone just now when he’d said there was no way Remy would be interested in her- And now she knew why. Or rather, she’d been reminded why. It was just because she had dark hair: She had dark hair and she was too young and inexperienced and Logan couldn’t see her that way and she wasn’t Jean Grey and honestly, how fucking shallow is that? And no, the fact that she was terrified he’d never care about anyone the way he’d cared about Jeannie had nothing to do with her anger at all- no matter what that inner monologue might claim. Marie knew she wasn’t exactly famous for her slow-burning temper, and she was aware on some level that an uninterested observer would not have reacted quite this volcanically to Remy’s observation- But frankly she couldn’t give a rat’s testicles let alone its ass. Because she’d been reminded that the kinda woman her Wolvie went for would never be her: She was too different. Too dark. Too un-fucking-Jean-like when it came right down to it and even after all this time that thought scared her more than she wanted to admit. Far as Logan was concerned she just wasn’t a good time: She’d always be little Rogue to him, the girl he had to look after. An annoying kid tagalong, never someone you wanted to throw down and have your wicked way with on a pool table no matter how much leather she wore. From far away she could hear Remy‘s voice- “Hey Rogue,” he was calling. “Dammit girl, you in there? You okay? Ah think maybe Ah should go get Logan- Give you back to him-”

Which was when her eyes snapped open. Her gaze piercing and calm.

She would not be given back to anyone- Least of all the Wolverine.

If Logan wanted to be the reason New Orleans was known as the Big Easy then that was his business, but she for one wasn’t interested anymore. She wasn’t.

And more to the point… Two could play at that game.

So she shifted her stance a little until she was standing in LeBeau’s personal space. One hand braced against his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne. Man, he smelt good. “Sorry about that shuggs,” she murmured, making sure to deepen her accent. The other hand coming to rest on his bicep- hello there!- And giving it a little squeeze. Her inner flirt apparently being plenty shameless but not plenty subtle. Though if it got the job done…“It happens sometimes,” she drawled, “Ah go out of it for a minute- all the energy inside me, it becomes overwhelming. Especially with someone like you.” And she looked up at him through her lashes. Nope, her inner flirt didn’t do subtle. Thank God. “Ah’m just so glad you were here,” she continued, “You know, to keep me outta trouble- Save me, like a good Southern gent.” She smiled, practically rubbing against him like a cat. “So what do you say we get some of that real coffee you were talking about?” she continued after a moment. “Because Ah for one think we have better things to talk about then Logan- Don’t you? Cher?”

And with that she slowly, smoulderingly, bit her lip. The sight doing all sorts of naughty things to Gambit- Who didn’t seem to care what colour her hair was.

“You might be right, chere,” he muttered, his gaze flicking to her lips and then up again. Lust colouring their dark depths. “Ah think we can do a day without the Wolverine.”

“That’s the spirit,” she breathed. “That’s just what a girl wants to hear-”

And with that they sauntered off towards Frenchman’s Street together in search of caffeine. Marie so focussed on how absolutely over Logan and his redhead fetish she was that she didn’t catch the smug little grin of triumph that lit Remy’s face. Because after all, it wasn’t like this was the first time he and Logan had gotten into a pissing contest over a girl-

Though Remy was at that point blissfully unaware that it would be the last.