Roughing It

The training exercise was quickly degenerating into insanity, as evidenced as much by the fact that Logan was finding Remy a little too attractive as by the fact that his teammate currently had his hair in pigtails – ostensibly to keep it out of his face, but Logan knew better, the kid was just trying to irritate him – and was standing in the middle of a stream holding a pointed stick and singing gospel songs.

Putting his hands over his ears with a growl, Logan tried to shut out Remy’s singing. It wasn’t that the kid was a bad singer – faom iom it, as a matter of fact – but Logan was pissed off and practically everything was getting on his nerves.

“Through many dangers, toils and snares we have already come,” Remy was singing, seemingly unfazed by his teammate’s quickly deteriorating civility. “‘Twas Grace that brought us safe thus far and Grace will lead us home…”

“Knock it off, Gumbo,” Logan growled, glaring as Remy ignored him and continued, attention fixed on the water he was standing in.

“The Lord has promised good to me, His word my hope secures,” Remy continued, never missing a beat as he jabbed the stick into the water, bringing it up with a flopping fish impaled on it. “He will my shield and portion be, as long as life endures…”

Giving us ats attempt to silence the boy, Logan simply subsided, staring in surprise at Remy’s catch. Right up until that point, Logan would have been willing to put money on the kid starving to death if he had to hunt his own food – Remy was a city kid, after all – but it appeared he’d underestimated the boy yet again.

Finally fixing his attention on his teammate, Remy flashed Logan a brilliant smile and waded out of the stream, toting his catch as if it were the greatest achievement of his life. “We’ve been here ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun. We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise, than when we’ve first begun,” Remy continued, laughing as Logan rolled his eyes and went back to chopping firewood.

The kid was driving him crazy, but then that was no surprise…that was what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. They’d been at each other all week; Remy driving Logan up the walls and Logan threatening to kill him if he didn’t knock it off, not that he would have actually followed through…maybe maimed him a little, but that was justified. Apparently Cyke hadn’t seen it the same way though, which was why they were currently roughing it in the Canadian wilderness, having brought nothing more than the Jeep, themselves, an ax for cutting firewood and the clothes on their backs…and in Remy’s case, cigarettnd and a pack of playing cards – contraband, technically, but Logan hadn’t seen any reason to snitch. As far as Logan could surmise, the idea was they’d either learn to work together or kill each other; either way, there’d be no more fighting back at the mansion.

Pausing in his work, Logan listened to the song the boy was singing as Remy set aside his catch and pulled his boots back on – kind of a pointless act in Logan’s opinion, since the kid could hardly walk in them since he’d removed the laces to tie his hair back. There was something about it that was bothering L, bu, but he couldn’t put his finger on it; something different.

“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see,” Remy finished, seemingly coming to the end of his one-man concert.

The accent, that’s what it was, Logan realized. The kid didn’t have an accent when he sang…it was a little strange. “Run out of songs, Gumbo?” Logan asked, voice tinged with irritation.

“Nah, I got plenty more, me,” Remy answered cheerfully, “But you’re lookin’ grumpy as an ol’ bear, so I fig’red I’d better stop.”

“You’re smarter than ya look,” Logan muttered and went back to work, trying to ignore his half-naked and infuriatingly desirable teammate.

Logan had hoped that the whole experience would take Remy down a few pegs, make him suffer a little…the kid was used to the good life, not to living in the middle of nowhere with no electricity, no running water and no women, but instead the kid had seemingly decided that it was a big game and was enjoying himself of all things. Now Logan found himself wishing that they had some sort of amenities, something to get his mind off of his inexplicably sudden attraction to the kid.

They’d only been away from home two days, the first of which had been spent driving, and Logan was already sure that Remy was purposely trying to drive him insane. Not only had the kid kept up a eleseless running commentary the whole time they had were in the car, but now the kid was strutting around half-naked – nothnew new about that, but it had taken on a whole new dimension now that Logan suddenly found himself wanting the kid.

“Hey, Logan?” Remy asked, sitting on a fallen log and rolling the legs of his jeans down.

“What?” Logan snarled, his mood not improved by the kid’s unflagging cheerfulness.

“Which do you t’ink is worse; bein’ a slut or bein’ a who Rem Remy mused, pulling a cigarette from his dwindling pack and, when a search of his pockets failed to turn up a lighter, concentrated on the tip until it lit with a small pop and started smoldering.

“What in the hell are ya askin’ me that for?” Logan growled, exasperated.

“Jus’ wonderin’ what you t’ink,” Remy shrugged, “’cause I been bot’ an’ it seems t’ me dat neider one’s really all dat bad…”

“Well…” Logan started; there was no shutting Remy up until the kid had gotten a reply and they both knew it. “Will you take those God damn pigtails out? I can’t have a serious conversation with you lookin’ like that!”

Rolling his eyes, Remy complied, pulling his hair lose from the stubby pigtails it had been held back in and shaking his head to settle it. “Now come on, answer de question,” he wheedled, relacing his boots.

“I dunno,” Logan answered, “I guess bein’ a slut…whores get paid to do the things that sluts do for free.”

“Nah, dat don’t make it bad…it’s like volunteer work,” Remy said with a laugh. “I’m doin’ a community service.”

“You’re warped,” Logan laughed, shaking his head with an amused snort.

“Life’s too short to be normal,” Remy said with a careless shrug.

-------

“Hey, Gumbo?” Logan called; the kid had run off somewhere again and Logan had no idea where he was at…probably climbing a tree or something stupid like that.

“Quoi?” Remy answered, moving to hang upside down from the tree branch he’d been perched on.

“Get your ass down here and get this fire started, would ya?” Logan asked, making it clear that there was no room for argument. They hadn’t been allowed to bring along matches or a lighter – apparently part of Cyke’s plan to get them to work together – which meant that Remy had to get it started.

“What am I, yslavslave?” Remy asked with mock outrage.

“Just get your ass down here,” Logan growled, glaring.

“Bossossyossy, bossy,” Remy muttered, but relinquished his perch and walked to the pile of firewood Logan had assembled.

Picking up a small piece of bark from the ground beside the firewood, Remy absentmindedly charged it and tossed it onto the pile of logs, grinning as it exploded with a shower of sparks and set the logs roaring.

“I don’t suppose you’re gonna let me dance naked around de fire, are you?” Remy asked with a smirk.

“Don’t even think about it,” Logan growled, claws bared in emphasis, the comment addressed as much to himself as it was to Remy.

“You’re no fun,” Remy pouted, settling down by the fire with a huff.

“Nope,” Logan agreed, hoping that the boy would make himself scarce; the kid was a fucking hazard.

“Come on, lighten up a little,” Remy cajoled.

A week. How in the hell was he going to make it the rest of the week?

-------

‘This is not good,’ Logan mused, ‘definitely not good.’

He’d warned the kid to stay on his side of the blanket, but it was a small blanket and the kid had managed to squirm over to his side and waasteastered against his side, snoring in his ear. It was hard enough keeping himself under control with several feet of space between his traitorous body and Remy, but with the kid this close to him it was next to impossible.

Growling low in his throat, Logan tried to scoot away, but his attempted escape only made the kid cling harder to He He should have expected it, he supposed; Remy never slept alone, except during the day when he crashed on the couch – or, on one memorable occasion, the pool table – but he’d hoped that he would keep his distance this time.

Grumbling, Logan tried to concentrate on something other than how good it felt to have that hot, hard body pressed up against him, tried to get his traitorous libido under control, and waited for morning to come.

TBC