Behaving Badly

Author's note: This one gave me some trouble. Don't know if I got it right. Sorry for real spelling errors, my spell check was about to throttle me because of my use of phonetics in my interpretation of accents.

Remy LeBeau drank alone. It was an occupational hazard to get drunk in the company of people who might want to know something about you. Oh, he'd have a few beers with his friends and teammates from time to time, but when he really drank, it was always alone. There were some nights when he couldn't hold back the demons, instead, he chose to keep them incapacitated with a steady supply of liquor. Now, however, he lived in a big house with a lot of people. One of them, a pretty southern gal, thought she knew his bad side, the side that had worked for her enemy. If she knew more, she wouldn't be able to forgive him so easily.


Logan was tougher to lose than the teenagers. Remy wondered if the man's sense of smell could detect the change in him. Sometimes Remy, himself, didn't know when it would happen. It could be dormant for a long time, then something would remind him. It didn't have to be anything big. Just a familiar laugh, or smell, or face. He never knew when something would trigger a response in him. Today it had been a song.


Remy liked Blues. He was from the Big Easy and loved Jazz and Blues, but he hated to hear Etta James. Today he'd been in town; it was his turn to get groceries and Logan had accompanied him. He liked to think it was because the Canadian had warmed up to him, it was more likely that he'd needed an escape from the teenagers and there was usually a good chance that Remy would be open for a stop at the local pub before returning to the mansion. Like himself, Logan preferred to do serious drinking alone, but when it came to an afternoon brew at a bar, he wasn't picky about his company.


They'd been sitting quietly in the back of the pub, drinking their beer when a familiar song came on the radio. It was Etta, singing "At Last". He used to love the song. She had a voice filled with misery and longing, he had felt a kinship with her at one point, but not any more. He didn't run from the song, it was just a song, after all. But it made him finish his beer quickly and excuse himself to look for some different music to get the song out of his head. He'd entered the shop and began to look through some Bill Withers' CDs. A flash of red hair caught his gaze. It was off to his left and he turned so quickly that the redhead had flinched in order to avoid a collision.
The lady had dropped the disk she'd been carrying on the floor and bent to pick it up. He'd beat her to it and apologized, handing it back to her.


"Sorry, M'selle." He said, smiling at her. He'd felt stupid about thinking she was someone else. Though uncommon, her hair color was not exclusive. She smiled back, and took the disc. She was cute, in a baby-faced kind of way. She looked up at him the way all women did, and he had found himself resenting her for it. She couldn't help it and he knew it.


"It's okay." She'd replied, taking the disc back. "Do you like Etta?" He had drawn back from her so quickly that a look of confusion and embarrassment had crossed her features. She was holding an Etta James CD in her hand. He had mumbled an apology and practically run from the store.
Logan had just been finishing his beer and hadn't said anything to Remy if he had noticed a change in the younger man. Remy drove home with the radio safely off. He knew when the demons would come for him. There was no avoiding the memories tonight, but he didn't have to welcome them. Logan also didn't say anything when Remy had stopped to buy a bottle of bourbon, leaving the car running and practically sprinting onto the store to grab it from the shelf.


When they'd arrived at the mansion, Logan had silently helped put the groceries away. Forgoing the group dinner in favor of a sandwich and bottled water, Remy had retreated to his room. He plead fatigo Xao Xavier who didn't argue. He sat at the desk in front of his window and ate his sandwich. He had little conventional use for the desk, but it had a lock on it that he appreciated. Though in this particular house, a locked drawer in a desk was poor security for any true secret possessions, but all he needed it for was to assure himself that nothing in the drawer would be found by accident.


Remy finished his sandwich and drank the entire bottle of water. He knew it would make him feel marginally better in the morning. He left a second bottle on his night table and a couple of aspirin beside it. He removed his jacket and hung it up; then he walked around the room, slipping his few framed photographs into his bureau drawers. He paused and rubbed a speck of dust off the glass that separated his fingers from an image of himself and Rogue at the beach. It had been taken the previous summer and had captured a rare, unguarded moment between the two of them.


Rogue had worn a thin, cotton shirt that had long sleeves, and Remy had been shirtless, lying on a towel with Rogue draped over his back with an arm around his neck and her cheek resting on his hair. Kitty had walked over to them with the camera and she'd just jumped on him. Her open displays of physical affection were few and far between, but he was happy to have this memory so perfectly preserved. Staring at the photograph held back the demons for a few minutes. Then he put it away and went to the bathroom. He showered and returned to his room to find Logan perched on is desk.


"I'll pour, you talk." He already had two glasses out and had opened the bourbon. He was chewing on the end of a cigar. He tossed a second to Remy who caught it. "I told Xavier that ya didn't look well in tand and to discourage any potential nurses from showing up at yer door." He continued, pouring two glasses of the amber liquid. "This stuff is piss, but it'll do." Remy tossed his towel onto his bed and approached the desk. He tossed back the contents in one hard swallow. He liked the pain it brought.


"Jus 'member dat Gambit didn' ask you here." He said, biting off the end of the cigar. He pressed a fingertip to it and the end began to glow, then to smoke gently. Logan leaned forward and he lit the other man's cigar.


"What was it?" Logan asked. "The waitress? The bar?" Remy shook his head. "The song?" Remy paused then nodded. He didn't bother to mention the redhead he'd seen. "Funny how it's the little details that bring up the memories." He puffed slowly. "It's the human side of us that reminds us when things start to get too good." Remy watched the tip of Logan's cigar bob up and down as he spoke around it.


Remy puffed gently on the cigar while he walked to his coat and retrieved a small key from a pocket hidden in the lining of the fabric. He unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk and removed a small box. It was stainless steel and very expensive. It had a six-digit combination lock on it and he tapped out the numbers quickly. He opened the box and removed something before re-closing and locking it. He replaced it in the drawer and locked it as well. He returned the key to his coat before holding the item out to Logan. It was a small, gold locket. Not particularly pretty, or valuable. It was heart-shaped and had a rose carved into the front.


The locket looked dwarfed in the Canadian's large hand. He fumbled with the clasp and opened it. He said nothing, just poured another glass of bourbon and joined Remy when the younger man drank. He pushed the chair out with his foot and the thief sat down with the assassin to weaken the demons when they finally came.


"Dis tief done a lot of tings he not proud of, Mon ami." He began, looking mournfully at his now empty glass. Logan refilled it and his own. "But he done few tings dat really make him truly ashamed."


"I know the feeling." Logan concurred. "But just keep in mind that I've probably done worse, so tonight yer in sympathetic company." Remy didn't know why the man was being so nice to him. He didn't deserve sensitivity and understanding.


"You ain't a priest, don't try absolvin' Gambit o' nothin'." He said through a clenched jaw. Then he drained his glass again. "Some sins don't deserve to be forgiven." He mumbled, rubbing his hand over his face.


"So ya don't ask." It wasn't a question. Logan just nodded in an understanding way. "Better than havin' yer apology tossed back at ya."


"Maybe."


"What was her name?"


"Don't know. She neva said it."


"What happened?"


"Had a job to do an she got dere first. Got de drop on Remy for a little while." He held out his glass, Logan's hand was still steady. Remy felt the alcohol start to warm him. He felt cold inside. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it only brought up a clearer image of a pretty face surrounded by red-gold hair.


"How old was she?" Logan asked. Pouring himself another glass.


"Maybe seventeen. Just a novice; it was probably her first job. But she wasn't wit de guild."


"That make her fair game?" There was a slight edge to Logan's voice. He wasn't judging Remy, just questioning Guild laws.


"None of us take kindly to someone, even a femme, tryin to get in on our game. Made Gambit angry. It was a pride thing. Nothin' more. Just stupid, youthful pride."


"Did you kill her?"


"Non. Didn't like killin' little girls." His forehead wrinkled and Logan poured him another drink. Remy regretted buying only the one bottle. As if reading his thoughts, Logan picked up his jacket from the floor and dug a small bottle out of each of his inside pockets.


"We've got all night, Bub. Keep talkin'."


"Gambit was a stupid kid. Arrogant an proud. De otha tieves didn' tink much of him, didn' trust de boy wit de demon eyes."


"Had to prove yerself."


"Had to prove somethin' to Jean-Luc." Remy said. "But Remy figures if he get de job done and teach a lesson to a non-guilded tief, maybe he come home a hero fo de night."


"You taught a lesson?"


"I taught a lesson." The use of the first person did not escape the Canadian. The drink was doing its job and bringing the boy a little closer to what was bothering him.


"Was it rape?"


"In a way, yeah." Remy didn't meet the older man's gaze. "But Remy cheated to keep himself from tinkin' dat he force de femme." His body was tense.


"What do you mean 'in a way'?" Logan asked. "Either it r itr it ain't." His voice was gruff. "Either she said no or she said yes."


"She said yes." Remy said after a long pause. "She was begging on her knees fo Remy to take her." He wasn't bragging the words came from him as if he was admitting to slaughtering helpless kittens. "But it still wasn't a choice fo her."


"You'll have to expand on that just a little."


"You know bout de more explosive tings dat happen round me, non?" Logan nodded. Of course he knew. "Well, dere are otha tings dat Remy can do. Tings wit de ladies. Dey love him, can't help
it." He took another shot of bourbon and winced.


"I knew it had to be more than the accent." Logan growled. Remy's mouth twitched at the corner. Logan was trying to make him feel better. God only knew why. "What is it? Like Jean?"


"Non." He said, shaking his handsome head. "Can't read minds, but Remy can sense otha tings dat give him an edge. People trust him. People drawn to him." His shoulders slumped. "Didn't realize it was part of de mutation till dis night."


"How strong is it?"


"Unconscious." He said, standing up and flipping the chair around backwards to straddle it. He was fidgeting, uncomfortable talking about himself. And usually, he was better at hiding it. The bourbon was definitely working. "Don' know if it was always dere, like de eyes. But Jean Luc was smarter den Remy eva give him credit. He sees a lot of tings dat otha people miss." He finished his drink and stared at the pattern in the cut crystal sides of the glass. "Somethin' in de way he tells Remy he got a way wit people makes Remy tink about it when he's got a gun pointed at him by a young femme."


"Yer tellin' me you turned on the charm?"


"So to speak." Remy held out his glass. "But it's a simple ting to seduce yo captor if you know what dey want."


"Simple for you, maybe." Logan mumbled. "So you used yer charms on the lady thief. What's so bad about that?"


"Remy didn't seduce her, mon ami. Remy focus on what Jean-Luc say and make her weak. Make her not afraid of him enough to drop her guard." He closed his eyes as the demons of the past swept him up in a cloud of memories. Memories of holding arms down on the floor. A struggling body underneath him and the taste of her skin when he began to kiss her.


"Stop." She whispered. Remy didn't just turn on the charm; he pushed emotions into her mind. He knew what her body needed, no one could give it to her the way he could, she needed him, he would make everything all right, and all she had to do was let him. He wasn't a telepath so he couldn't force actual thoughts or images; but he could give her a pretty strong impression.


"Gonna make you feel real good, Chere." He growled in her ear. "Not gonna hurt you." He felt the goosebumps rise under his lips. He eased back and stood up, the lady thief got unsteadily to her feet and rather than make any attack, she backed away from him. Remy stalked toward her and backed her up against the wall. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, putting up her arms defensively. She had forgotten all about her gun and her reason for entering the house.


"Please." She said. "What are you doing?" She placed a hand to her forehead, unable to clear her thoughts.


"Just dis." He pressed his whole body flush against hers and held her there while he kissed her hard on the mouth. His tongue invaded her sweet mouth and he ravaged it fiercely. Her arms were around his shoulders and she was kissing him back. He moved his body against hers, rhythmically, grinding his pelvis into her. She was gasping for air. Definitely been a long time since she'd been with a man. His quick fingers were inside her panties and she belonged to him.

"Didn't know charm could be a mutation." Logan said, quietly. Remy had taken the bottle from his hand during his recount of his battle with the lady thief. The younger man took a long pull off the bottle and Logan opened one of his own bottles, scotch, and took a long swig.


"Had a headache for days, like when Remy was young and try to blow up too many tings." He faced Logan and met his gaze. "Dat's how Remy knew for sure dat his mutation involved trust and charm. Tell her she'd safe wit Remy an she believes. An she wan' de boy, but she don wan' to."

The girl was on her knees on the floor. She was weak and sweating. Her arms were trembling and she was crying. The tears were real, but her body still craved him. He hadn't gotten her off yet and was holding back. This was the lesson. Jean-Luc and the other thieves would be laughing for weeks at this little stunt and the girl would probably never show her face anywhere in the south again. He'd been working on her for almost an hour. He knew all the tricks. He'd had to learn them on the street. Being a pretty boy who needed a warm place to sleep in the winter, he had to learn every trick the human body had to offer.


Remy had used his skill to get food and money for survival. He even used it to get close to someone he planned to rob. It was a hell of a lot easier to steal from someone who was sleeping off a round of rowdy sex. But this was the first time he'd used his body as a tool of revenge. He didn't just want her to give it up; he wanted her to be humiliated and weak. He wanted her to feel weak and helpless because she had been unable to fight her own body's response. He made her crawl and beg. Then he'd taken her in the master bedroom of a house he was planning to rob, right on the fancy satin sheets of the owner's bed.


When the girl was satisfied, Remy knuckled her on the base of her skull, knocking her out. Then he withdrew and jerked off on her stomach. He left her, unconscious and sprawled on the expensive bedding while he relieved the residents of their most expensive pieces of jewelry. As an afterthought, he took the locket from around her neck and kept it for himself, telling no one about it. He tucked it into a pocket and opened a window. He looked down at the street and heard the soft strains of Etta James pouring out from a bar down the block. He looked at the girl on the bed and listened to the song for a minute before turning his back on her and climbing out of the house. He was king of New Orleans, he could do anything. When he told Jean-Luc what had happened, his father had regarded him for a few minutes, then he broke out with a roar of laughter and called in his boys to have Remy tell them about it too. After that, Remy's reputation as a ladies' man had been cemented forever with the Thieves' Guild.


"You didn't find out who she was?" Logan asked. Remy shook his head. "Can you do that to everyone?" He shook his head again.


"De girl was young and not too bright, she was also inexperienced wit men an didn't know how to
fight her own body. Couldn't make all de guild members trust me at first. Dey all got strong minds." He finished the bottle. "Tink de worst is dat Remy did it out of anger and spite. He did it to prove how strong and clever he was." His words were starting to slur. The drinks were catching up to him. "Took de locket as a trophy. Wanted to take somethin' tangible wit me." He dropped his head and mumbled, "'Sides her innocence."


"She was a virgin?" Remy looked at the empty bottle and nodded slightly.


"Only took a few days of de boys praisin' Remy fo him to feel somethin' 'sides pride. Started thinkin' bout how she struggled at first. Started thinkin' bout how she ask him to stop." His voice was barely a whisper and he dropped the third person address. "I tried to tell myself dat if one of de otha boys was dere, dat dey wouldn't go to de trouble of makin' her want it. Some might not leave her alive." Logan handed him the last bottle. It was more whiskey. "Tried to tell myself I did her a favor." He choked on the last word and squeezed hie eyes shut. "She'd have been killed by one of de Guild members eventually. She wasn't a good tief." His accent came back as he tried to pull back from inside himself. "She was only lucky dat Remy stepped on de family cat when he come through de window." Logan chuckled in spite of himself.


"We all have moments like that." Remy wasn't certain if he meant the ungraceful entrance with the cat, or the entire story. "Reminds us how far we've come." He stood, completely steady on his feet and picked up his coat.


"Do me a favor, mon ami." Remy said, staggering to his own feet, one hand still clutching the last, half-empty, whiskey bottle. "Find a way to get Rogue to keep her distance." He steadied himself with one hand on the desk. "Don' tink Remy can handle it when she look at him wit de big eyes."


"Rogue, huh?"


"She tink dat Remy some kinda hero or somethin'." He reeled slightly and nearly dropped the bottle. "She de kinda trouble to make a man wan to forget he's neva gonna be good enough fo her."


"Power corrupts, Bub." Logan said, placing his hand on the doorknob. "At least you only took a few days before feelin' guilt." His eyes were hooded, unreadable. "Keep that guilt in mind when yer charmin' the ladies. And if I get the idea that Stripes is a little more attracted than she should be, I'll personally see to it that you'll never be able to put the charm to good use." He didn't need to pop a claw at the Cajun. It would have been redundant. When it came to the girls he considered part of his brood; he only needed his bare hands. "Get some sleep, Gumbo." Then he was gone.


Remy staggered to his bed. He wanted the oblivion to come soon. It would be there and he wouldn't have to dream of the tears, or the feel of a skinny body beneath him on an expensive carpet. He reminded himself that he deserved the loathing when it came. It made him feel better to hate himself. He placed one bare foot on the floor to stop the spins. Had he hated himself for long enough yet?