With Every Beat of My Heart

Summary: An interrupted dinner shakes things up between Logan and Remy.

Author’s Note: This won’t be long. I’ve been letting this sit for a long time, not out of disinterest, just out of trying to get my head together and sort through my fics as a whole, rounding up which ones can be continued and which should just stand pat, or even be shelved.

Logan pondered the selections of flowers at the Stop & Shop, debating on whether or not to get an arrangement already packed in a vase, or to buy a bunch instead of one particular kind. The carnations didn’t appeal to him; the leaves were already slightly limp, like they’d been sitting out a day too long. Logan wanted to bring a nice assortment, in the attempt to pick out at least one kind that his hostess might enjoy. He finally decided on a bouquet of mixed long stems that included some tall purple irises and white chrysanthemums.

Logan was scrambling to get home before rush hour traffic, but he still needed to pick up his good shirt from the dry cleaner’s, shower, shave, and make sure Daisy had some attention before he was out for the night. Remy had spoiled her so much that Logan felt guilty for leaving her home alone. But she was also happy, which pleased him, glad to have another grownup to talk to, and, to Logan’s mind, flirt with. And she was shameless, too, laying her head in Remy’s lap every time he sat down or lying right over his feet.

Logan knew how she felt, but he was more reserved about it.

Perhaps still too reserved. Remy still didn’t linger long when Logan came home for their usual chat when Remy returned his keys. Sometimes he would make Logan dinner from whatever offerings he had in his refrigerator, which made him flush with guilt. He didn’t need to do that, but Remy inevitably told him to cut the shit. He wanted to do it.

On those nights – which were steadily growing more frequent - where Remy made himself blunt that he wanted more time with him, they watched Law&Order reruns on the couch, at first merely holding hands and leaning companionably into each other. It was so easy to be with him, but again, Logan felt guilty about keeping him over too late when sunset drifted into dusk and he found that they’d spent hours just talking. He knew Remy loved his early mornings, whether he ran with Logan or not, and he hated to keep him up too late. When the time got away from them, Logan would sometimes wake up to find himself draped in a blanket, head tipped over Remy’s shoulder. Goodnight kisses between them were tender but still just that, “goodnights.”

The urge to just let himself fall over the edge was so strong…to just let go. Remy’s smile was understanding, but there was such a look of longing in his eyes sometimes. Why couldn’t Logan just give in to what was between them, his look seemed to say. To Remy’s credit, Logan had finally acknowledged that there actually was something between them. But he didn’t want to bang his head against the wall that Logan kept putting up. As he’d told him often enough, life was too short.

In the meantime, Remy’s foster aunt was rooting for them, in her own way as bad as Daisy. Logan admired her bluntness and sass.

“So why haven’t ya come ta dinner wit’ Remy?” she demanded to know one day when Logan met the two of them at another of Remy’s shows.

“Uh…hmmm…” Logan scratched his neck, searching for an excuse.

“Now why ya wanna leave a woman by her lonesome when she’s got good food?” Remy chimed in, enjoying his discomfiture. His black eyes were dancing and he gave Logan a tiny smirk that said See what you did. It isn’t just me. Try to get out of this one.

“Come on over an’ eat,” she commanded haughtily. “Won’t find any better soul food den what I can make, ‘specially when Remy throws down in de kitchen wit’ me. When I can get his lazy butt in dere,” she pointed out, tweaking the taller man’s ear.

“Awwwww, now look whatcha’ve done, Logan, she’s on me now, cuz you ain’t been over.”

“Don’t blame me,” Logan pleaded, holding up his hands.

“No excuses. You, in de kitchen; you, at de table. No buts.” Mattie’s chin jutted at a stubborn angle as she thumped her cane on the hard wood floor. “Been puttin’ it off too long. Got all kinds of good t’ings outta my garden dat’re jus’ gonna go bad if we don’ eat ‘em.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Logan agreed. Mattie smiled and patted his cheek.

“Knew dere wuz a reason why I liked ya, chere. Yer agreeable.” She turned to Remy. “He’ll do.”

Logan found himself looking forward to the dinner, grateful that he wouldn’t have to make excuses for not taking things to a more intimate level for another night, but that he would still have the chance to spend time with Remy. With his boyfriend. It had such an odd ring to it, but the thought made Logan smile.

“Boyfriend,” Logan murmured softly as he steered his car down the back way through his neighborhood, waving at a group of kids playing with their pellet guns. He whistled cheerfully as he made his way up his front walk, and he already heard the scrabbling of Daisy’s feet behind the door before he unlocked it.

“Hey, girl…easy!” She was all over him, desperate for cuddles, which told Logan that she hadn’t had her walk yet. His house had that telltale “empty” smell that meant Remy hadn’t been over, which he anticipated, since he was going to be helping his aunt with the cooking, but Logan felt his absence keenly. It had become so nice to have someone to come home to. Daisy stayed underfoot as he went through his usual routine of feeding her, opening the mail, and taking off his shoes and work clothes while he turned on the evening news.

He stepped into the blessedly hot shower and let it wash over him, the rush of spray spearing through his thick hair, but it did little to clear his head. Logan wanted to get this right…there wasn’t necessarily a “wrong” to what they had, it was just…

It wasn’t what he had with Jean. It wasn’t even what he had with Mac.

Mac had just been “trying him on.” Logan had gotten hurt. Naturally, that left him gun-shy. But Logan didn’t want to do things half-assed, playing at a relationship with Remy if he couldn’t go in full-tilt, wholehearted and guns blazing. Remy was being big about it, not pushing him.

A selfish, niggling voice inside Logan said Why the hell isn’t he pushing me? It was so damned confusing…


He went through the motions of getting ready, but took extra care with his hair and shave. He knew Remy would be fine with how he looked, but he wanted to be more presentable for Mattie, since Remy cared so much for her, and he wanted to be a conscientious guest. He put the finishing touches on his tie and shined his shoes with a chamois cloth to make them gleam. A brief slap of aftershave and final flick of the comb through his hair satisfied him. Jean always thought he looked nice in the deep coffee brown shirt and tie set she bought him for his birthday; Logan decided he would pass muster.

He turned on his radio and found himself humming along to an old Stevie Nicks tune, then singing along with Tom Petty’s half of the duet, surprised that he still knew the lyrics. Anticipation warmed his guts, leaving him with a strange, fizzy feeling. It was just a dinner, but it reminded him of the first time he’d met Jean’s parents at their house. It cemented what they had, gave it more stable and enduring definition.

His brows drew together and he felt his gut twist into a hard, cold knot when he saw the rotating beacon lights of an ambulance four houses ahead of him. Remy’s house.

“Shit,” he breathed. “Oh, no.” His heart slammed in his ribcage as he parked the car in front of the nearest house and fumbled to yank the keys out of the ignition. He trotted, then sprinted across the front yard and found the front door ajar, automatically letting himself in.

“Remy?” he called out gently. Anna Marie hurried into the hallway from the kitchen at the sound of his voice. Her face was stricken, but relaxed slightly as her eyes landed on him.

“Logan? Aw, shoog, all hell broke loose a few minutes ago. C’mon, sit.”

“Where’s Remy? Is he okay?”

“He’s just shook up,” she assured him, and he could tell the same could be said for Anna. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and her cheeks were pink. “Mattie had a bad spell.” Cold prickles crept over Logan with that revelation.

“Shit,” he murmured,” what happened?” He was interrupted from further questions as the paramedic came out of the kitchen, and Anna automatically held onto his arm. He reached for her hand and squeezed it, absorbing her tension and fear.

“I’m afraid she had a stroke.”

“Oh, no,” Anna cried, “not another one!”

“She’s had one before?”

“Yeah. Aw, Gawd,” Anna breathed. Logan supported her when she began to wobble. “She was in the kitchen, busy as you please, but all of the sudden she said she didn’t feel good. When Ah turned around ta get her a glass of water, she just dropped like a stone. Remy didn’t catch her on time, he was pullin’ something out of the oven.” Logan only then noticed all of the aromas in the house that would have made his stomach growl if it wasn’t so roiled with new stress.

“We’re transporting her to the hospital now, it’ll be a few minutes. We’ve already taken her vitals, and we’ve got her on some oxygen. She’s responding pretty well, but she’s not talking yet. This was a bigger attack than the one she had before, I’m guessing.”

“Ah wuzn’t here for the last one,” Anna Marie told them, “but yeah, Ah know this is worse. A lot worse.”

“You can’t predict these things,” the paramedic told them. His name tag identified him as Tom Corsi. His face was slightly older, possibly in his late forties, and his deep voice was calm and reassuring. “We’ll take good care of her from here. She’ll be in the neuro trauma ward when she’s checked in as an admit. That’s on the first floor. Family only visitors, though.”

“That’s us,” Anna Marie informed him crisply, holding on more tightly to Logan’s hand. “Remy’s her next of kin.”

“That’s fine,” he nodded. “Stay clear. Right out here, while we get her into the ambulance. We’ll need some room to work.” Almost on cue, Remy came out of the kitchen, followed shortly by two more men carrying Mattie out on a gurney and toting an oxygen tank. Mattie looked smaller and alarmingly gray bundled beneath the plain beige blankets. She had taken the time to put on makeup and Logan caught a hint of her soft perfume. Like him, she’d looked forward to the dinner. His heart squeezed at the sight of her left hand, curled in a tight claw over the blankets. Her eyes stared up, watery and blank, then jerked over to glance at him and Anna.

“Gimme a minute,” Remy snapped as they prepared to take her outside. He bent and stroked her hair, kissing her temple. “Love you,” he murmured, “okay? I love you, an’ I’ll be dere in a flash. I’m gonna make ‘em take good care of my best girl, okay?” Her shallow breathing picked up slightly beneath the mask and her eyes watered slightly. She closed them again when he gave her one last kiss and tucked her arm more securely beneath the blanket to keep her warm.

Logan’s heart felt squeezed by fear and worry, and it tore at him seeing Remy in such a ruined, tortured state. Remy followed the paramedics out the door and watched them from the front porch as they rolled the gurney up the ramp. Logan held his breath, waiting for Remy to acknowledge him, but Anna Marie clamored for his attention first, saving him from having to find the appropriate words.

“I’m gonna get mah purse,” she interjected. “Ah’m also gonna pack up an overnight bag. Remy, is everything in the kitchen turned off?” She was off like a shot, keeping up a running dialogue as she moved. Remy looked dazed as his eyes finally landed on Logan.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Logan greeted. “Scared the shit outta me when I saw ‘em outside as I came up.”

“M’own heart jus’ about stopped when I turned around and saw her go down,” Remy countered. “Ain’t breathed yet.”

“Maybe you should,” Logan suggested gently. “Ya need anything? Let me get ya some water…”

“Non,” Remy argued wearily. He reached for Logan’s wrist and pulled him close. “Remy don’t need anyt’in’ particular right now. Jus’ don’ leave.” Logan needed no further urging as he wrapped him in a tight embrace, feeding him his heat and strength.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” Logan soothed, letting the palm splayed over Remy’s long, narrow back begin to stroke him. Remy’s heart thudded in skips and starts, worrying him even as it reassured him that it was Remy standing here, and not laid out on a gurney in the ambulance.

That had been his real worry, but he didn’t take any comfort in it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, pressing a gently kiss against Remy’s collarbone. He felt Remy’s breath hitch and his vigorous nod, then the faint press of his lips against the top of his head. They stood like that for another minute or two while Anna Marie continued to bustle her way through the house, preparing them for the trip to the hospital. Holding each other and listening to each other’s drumming heartbeats.


*

Nearly two hours later, both men flanked Anna Marie in the trauma waiting room as they tried not to nod off in front of the modest television. Waiting for Mattie’s caregivers to finish the battery of tests and blood work had been arduous and exhausting; they were still waiting for her to get settled comfortably in her room. Logan reached despondently into a crumpled bag of peanut M&Ms and helped himself to two. Remy shook his head when he offered it to him, so he sat it down on the plain-looking, veneer coffee table.

“Ah hate this,” Anna Marie muttered. “Crappy waitin’ rooms. Think they’d make these places more comfortable knowin’ the people in ‘em ain’t gonna budge.”

“Guess they don’t want ‘em ta treat it like a hotel,” Remy mused miserably. He rubbed his hand over his face, and Logan noticed how tired his eyes were, to the point there they had bags underneath.

“I don’t miss this room,” Logan said quietly. That gave Remy pause.

“Whaddya mean?” Anna inquired.

“I spent a long time in here when they brought Jeannie in,” Logan explained. “Hasn’t changed all that much.”

“Ya don’ hafta stay, chere,” Remy told him.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Then he changed his mind. “Except the car. I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Why?” Remy asked, cocking one brow in confusion.

“I have something for Mattie that I didn’t get to bring in earlier. Might as well let her have it now,” Logan reasoned as he got up, stretching uncomfortably from the too deep, too-soft couch that seemed to swallow him when he first sat down on it.

He hurried out to the car, fleeing from the memories of his last trip to the ward, but he shook it off as he opened the car and reached for the bouquet. Now he regretted not having a vase with him after all, but he hoped the bright blooms cheered her once she was awake to enjoy them. It felt like such a paltry gesture, but beyond that, Logan had nothing.

When he got back to the room, his gut clenched at the sound of Anna Marie’s low sobs. Remy held her, comforting her, but silvery tears dripped down his own cheeks. Logan silently set the bouquet down on the table and did nothing else to draw attention to himself. They needed each other, and he felt out of place, the only one there who wasn’t technically family.

*

Once he finally left the hospital, Logan’s sleep had been fitful and unhelpful. Daisy sensed his distress and slept at his feet, whistling and whining low in her throat whenever he woke up. She nosed him in concern; he answered her with a scratch behind her ears before he finally rose groggily from the bed. He wondered if hot milk would help.

He didn’t expect the microwave clock display to tell him it was already five-thirty. It was still unnaturally dark outside, telling him that autumn was giving way to winter, and he smelled rain. He vaguely remembered the sound of light showers through the night. Logan decided it made more sense to make himself a pot of coffee instead. It was Saturday morning, but he was already debating whether to open the shop. He was worn out.

He froze mid-yawn, carafe poised by the faucet to fill it at the sound rap against his kitchen door. “Shit,” he hissed in surprise. No one ever came to see him at that hour.

Remy’s eyes peered at him through the pane as he undid the locks. “Remy?” he asked, concerned. “C’mon in. Get warm, kiddo.” He looked at Remy’s clothing, puzzled. He wore his nylon running gear and a hooded sweatshirt, but his clothing was soaked through. “Don’t tell me ya ran here?”

“Needed ta clear my head,” he replied hoarsely, panting and leaning against the doorframe. Logan’s eyes raked over him and he scowled.

“It’s fuckin’ freezing out. Ya aren’t wearing enough,” Logan scolded, ushering him inside. “Damn it, Remy, don’t make me take ya over my knee.” He urged him into a kitchen chair and continued making the pot of coffee.

“M’fine,” Remy argued.

“Nah. Ya aren’t. I’m gonna warm ya up.” Logan was grateful to have something to do, and Daisy must have felt the same, because her clawed paws came scrabbling over the kitchen linoleum and she greeted Remy with wet kisses. He embraced the dog and gave her a hearty scratch that made her thump her tail in satisfaction. His smile was still sad.

“How is she?” Logan asked as he selected two mugs from the cupboard.

“She’s in a bad way,” Remy said. “I ain’t dealin’ wit’ dis well, Logan.”

“Of course not,” Logan agreed. “There ain’t no right way of dealin’ with his, darlin’.” Remy didn’t ponder the use of the pet name. He just allowed Logan to set the strong-smelling roast before him so he could wrap his hands around the mug, letting its heat seap into his bones.

“M’so scared,” Remy husked. His eyes shone with the threat of fresh tears. “Needed t’see you.” Logan set down the loaf of bread he had just taken down from the top of the fridge and crossed the room, kneeling before him. He squeezed Remy’s knee kindly, still alarmed at how cold his flesh felt through the thin, damp nylon.

“I’m here, baby.” Remy’s face crumpled and Logan was pulling him down into his embrace before the first sob escaped his chest. They were ragged, harsh heaves that thrummed through Logan over the hiss of the coffee maker or Daisy’s soft whines. Remy clung to him with his entire body, legs splayed open to allow Logan closer. His long, wiry arms locked him against him desperately, unable to let go of his anchor or release the source of vital warmth and comfort. He breathed in the scent of Logan’s sleep-warmed skin and soft, thick hair. Logan’s voice was a thick, low rasp that stroked Remy’s nerve endings, blanketing him.

“Yer cold.”

“M’all right.”

“Okay.” But Logan’s hand was rubbing the length of his thigh, trying to coax warmth into it, and Remy sighed over his stubbornness. He pulled away only long enough to jerk off the sweatshirt and then kissed Logan, ruffling his hair.

“Let me get ya somethin’ else ta wear,” he suggested. Daisy stayed with Remy, taking up Logan’s spot, taking her customary perch in Remy’s lap. He accepted her affections and dashed the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. Remy watched the steam rise from his untouched coffee. He felt awkward suddenly, sitting in the middle of Logan’s kitchen after showing up unannounced in the wee hours. It had been his first instinct to come here. He didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly Logan was the source of his strength, the one thing in his life that made sense when he’d given up trying to figure it out.

Logan approached with a folded comforter draped over his burly arm and a bundle of warm-looking clothes. “These’ll be roomy on ya, since yer skinnier than me-“ Remy didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence before he was up out of his chair. He took the comforter from him and plopped it into his abandoned seat, did the same with the clothes and gripped Logan’s shoulders. “Rem, what…?” Remy’s cool lips swallowed whatever he was about to say as he kissed him breathless, even senseless. Logan’s knees went weak as a strained, surprisingly high “mmmmph” escaped him. His large hands drifted to Remy’s hips and held him fast while Remy took from him slowly, infusing him with his need as their kiss grew hot. Remy slanted his mouth over his, urging him to open for him, and Logan thought he was drowning when that velvety tongue stroked him, exploring his mouth so intimately. He went up in flames, and his only concern was sharing that heat with Remy.

“Damn it, Remy.” It took all he had to recover himself and break the kiss, but he was sorely out of breath. Both of them were panting, pinning each other with dazed looks. Remy leaned his forehead against his, cupping the face he found so dear and familiar.

“Need ya right now, chere,” he murmured.

“This ain’t the time; I know yer havin’ a hard time right now.”

“Just hold me.” Logan processed that demand quickly, leading him back to his bedroom.

He didn’t suggest the clothes again. Remy sat on the edge of the bed while Logan helped him out of the rest of his damp sweats, leaving him in his boxers, undershirt and socks. He quickly folded down the covers and bundled him up, sliding in next to him to lend him his heat and bulk. Logan needed no further encouragement and he gathered him into his arms, listening to Remy’s drumming heartbeat. They lay tangled together and listened to the rain tapping against the roof as fresh showers began outside. Logan was lulled by it and by the feel of Remy’s smooth skin beneath his stroking hands, and he drifted back to sleep.