Found You

Summary: Logan’s POV to what he found, and the resulting emotions they finally share.

“Shit!” Remy hissed as he fumbled madly with the covers to shield the evidence of his dreams. He was still sticky, and his cheeks flushed darkly with the shame of Logan’s discovery. Blood rushed down from his head suddenly, making him dizzy, and he pitched forward with the effort to recover himself.

“Hey…kid! Kid! REM!” Logan grumbled as he hurried over, abandoning his perch in Ororo’s doorway.

“Merde…how long y’been dere?”

“Long enough. Heard more’n I thought I would when I headed up here, Cajun. Was downstairs, fixin’ myself a drink,” he explained hollowly, and Remy’s nose twitched at the scent of whiskey and cigars that permeated his pores, at once familiar and strangely comforting. “Headed back down to the security monitors ta set ‘em on standby, and I saw the north cam black out.”

“Den what?”

“Did a walkabout outside. Caught yer scent. Wuz gonna check with ‘Ro ta see if she knew ya were here. But she ain’t here now.” The corners of his mouth tightened and his fists clenched in his lap as Logan sat on the edge of the bed, making it dip.

Something about Remy’s scent, mingled with Ororo’s as they wafted up from the sheets unnerved him and pissed him off. “What the fuck are ya doin’ up here?”

“Nut’in’,” Remy muttered, suppressing a yawn that escaped him anyway. His stretch was leonine and rich with interrupted sleep. His limbs were graceful and rippling with lean muscle from years of martials arts training and simple living. Remy had a fast metabolism and a taste for fine food that didn’t harm his finely sculpted body. The occasional glass of bourbon was his favorite indulgence (barring an all-night binge, on those nights where he needed it), but he was willing to replace it with something more satisfying, packaged in the form of the irritated yet sexy Canadian staring him down in the dark.

“Ya get lost on yer way inside?” Logan sneered.

“Non. Ya found me jus’ fine, mec,” he offered casually, yawning one more time for good measure. His red on black eyes were drowsy and glowed steadily back at him, then slowly ate him up from head to toe. He knew Logan smelled his tension from a mile away, but he continued his ruse.

“Why ya lookin’ at me like that, bub?” He knew why.

“Remy might ask ya de same, chere.”

He felt the pull of Logan’s emotions, luring him like a siren’s song. He wanted to bask in their heat like a lazy cat, but he knew this wasn’t the time for his own gratification.

“Sonofabitch,” Logan grumbled, shaking his head and plowing his hand through his coarse, thick waves. He closed his eyes against revealing too much, too soon and leaned back on the heels of his hands. “Whaddya want me ta do, Rem? Whaddya want me ta say?”

“Ya don’ hafta say anytin’ yet, homme.”

“Ya don’t know…” Logan bit back the rest, letting his lips tighten into a firm, white line. His body thrummed with tension, and he was still distracted by the sight of Remy, looking rumpled and disheveled, even well fucked within the tangle of Ororo’s sweet-smelling sheets. Her bed now held Remy’s essence, too, but Logan fought against hauling him out of the bed and dragging him downstairs.

His bed was bigger than Ororo’s. Lonelier, too.

“What, homme? What don’ Remy know?”

“Do ya hafta ask?” Logan changed from hanging onto his patience by his fingernails to blunt frustration. “Do ya know how fuckin’ worried I was, wonderin’ what happened to ya, Rem? Ya just ran off into the friggin’ cold again, with hardly any fuckin’ shelter fer miles? I didn’t know if ya had any money, or where ya were gonna get yer next meal? Ya didn’t leave any word of where ya were goin’, in case ya got lost, or hurt? By the time I woke up and went ta look fer yer sorry hide, yer scent was cold!” Logan’s anger grew incrementally with each word, and he was back up off the bed, pacing. He resembled a restless lion, his thick hair tousled and bristling, completing the image. He threw his hands out wide. “That what ya wanted ta know?”

“Naw.” Remy shook his head and sighed in resignation. He was still processing Logan’s emotions, anger central among them all. It stung, but it was a good pain, feeling him. Hearing him, both his voice and his psychic essence. He’d missed that low, scratchy burr in his deep voice. The faint light shining in from Ororo’s skylight window painted his body, picking out his sleek muscles in stark relief and illuminating his dark eyes. Logan stood there in his boxers and a wifebeater tank, a plain white one; Remy knew he’d covered himself out of courtesy to anyone lurking in the hallway for a midnight snack or a pit stop. His eyes hungered for the sight of him bare, mentally undressing him where he stood.

His body was inviting, but his lips were a tightly drawn line.

“Fuck!” Logan ranted, louder this time. “That all ya got ta say??”

“Non. Jes’ dat it ain’ what Remy wanted t’know. Remy wanna know if ya missed him, chere.” Remy kept the covers balled in his lap to keep them both focused on their confrontation, and to hide the spark of life that was resurfacing in his manhood. Logan’s nostrils flared, as though he, too, noticed the shift in his body and body language.

“Don’t get cute, Cajun.”

“Remy ain’t, unless y’wan’ him to.” Logan sputtered out an exasperated breath.

“Yer killin’ me. First, I got out ta find ya, because again, Rem, everyone here’s been worried sick about ya fer a while, even Rogue. She had a right t’do what she did, but she’s been eaten up with guilt about it because she loved ya so much. I hear her cryin’ at night. If yer gonna show yer face here, Rem, yer gonna hafta show it ta her soon. If she spits in it, take it.” Remy blanched.

“Second, ya tease ‘Ro with word that ya might come back. SHE goes out an’ tries ta bring ya home, but ya leave her ta come back empty-handed, just ta show us that ya don’t really wanna make amends, after all, ta the school, Rogue, ‘Ro, or anyone else.” He didn’t include himself on the list, something Remy didn’t miss.

“THEN ya finally come home, and ya hole up an’ hide in here.”

“Stormy said it wuz okay.”

“What’d ya expect her ta say? She loves ya, warts an’ all. You and yer dirty drawers,” Logan shrugged, retreating behind his walls and dampening Remy’s link with his emotions. He threw up one meaty hand and let it hit his thigh with a sharp slap. “Don’t keep givin’ us mixed messages an’ bullshit.”

“What if Remy wants t’stay?”

“Ya want me ta slay a fuckin’ fatted calf? Announce it with bells on?”

“Desole, chere. Fo’ ev’ryt’in. S’what’m tryin’ t’say.” Remy swallowed around a dry lump in his throat. His red eyes glowed with feeling as he hugged his knees. He laid himself bare, dropping all subterfuge and coyness. “Hurt, when Remy left ya. Knew ya’d hate it, an’ hate Remy. Knew ya didn’ deserve dat. Jes’…didn’ know where t’go from dere, mec. Scared shitless. Confused. Afraid dat…” He clenched his fists and looked away, swallowing again. His chest constricted as he tried to master himself. He hated showing weakness, and it was unthinkable to do so in front of this man.

Logan had seen him at his most vulnerable. Brought to his knees and with his heart bleeding. It couldn’t happen again. It just…couldn’t.

He was inches away from losing him.

“But ya left anyway,” Logan snapped.

“Oui.” Remy closed his eyes and combed his fingers through his hair, clutching it.

“Fuck,” Logan muttered. He turned his back for a moment, suddenly making Remy panic that he was leaving. He started to fumble with the covers to adjust himself, and he untangled one long leg before Logan turned his head over his shoulder a moment, barely allowing Remy to see his strong, blunt profile. His back was broad, tapering down to a firm waist and narrow hips. Remy’s fingers itched to touch it, to trace the outline of each muscle and bump of his spine, but he pushed back his yearning, knowing Logan could smell it on him. Lust, and the remainder of his seed drying on his belly and thighs.

“It was just me this time, Cajun. Who ya gonna leave next? How many folks are ya gonna hurt the next time? I know it’s been hard. Sucks havin’ deaths on yer conscience. S’like goin’ ta hell every night as soon as ya close yer eyes, knowin’ it’s a repeat round trip. Yer done playin’ the Judas, Rem, that much I already know. Saw how it tore ya up, an’ how it still is, rememberin’ what happened in those tunnels. I know yer sorry. And…” he hesitated.

“An’ what, homme?” He waited with bated breath for a response from the feral. Logan had narrowed their empathic link to a mere pinpoint of light. Remy grasped and groped for it helplessly, hopefully, needing it more than air.

“I hated seein’ ya like that. Bleedin’. Broken. Needin’ someone but forcin’ yerself ta be alone.” He’d slowly turned around to face him fully. His stance was open and less tense, but his face…Dieu, his face. It was sad, and raw, and full of concern and unstifled anguish. “God, Rem…I know why ya left. I can’t stand here an’ ask why, when I know, but that didn’t mean I was okay with it. Not after what happened. Not after what we did…” Tears threatened the back of Remy’s eyes, and he blinked furiously to fan them away. Logan heard his breathing quicken, breaking from his narrow ribcage in harsh pants. “Ya left me, without so much as a word, after what we did. So…how…d’ya think…I’m s’posed ta feel?”

“Pot callin’ de kettle black, if ya wan’ talk ‘bout leavin’ ev’ry’tin behind, chere,” Remy murmured, his voice low and thick. “Remy’s watched y’leave befo’.”

“I’ve never left you. There’s a big fuckin’ difference, darlin’,” Logan grated out. His fists were clenching and unclenching. “I never…let ya have so fuckin’ much of myself, damn it, and then took off! Took it all away. Ya took it all away…” Logan’s voice died.

A lone, silver tear streaked down Remy’s cheek, but he stayed silent, digesting the truth and reeling from it.

“Aw, God,” he whispered. Logan’s lips worked; Remy could tell he was biting back more damning, useless words, but it was too late.

The floodgates opened and assaulted Remy in a rush, pulling Logan into the pool with him. Remy’s breath stopped for one long, aching moment, and he saw Logan stagger from the impact.

So much hurt! Remy drowned in those feelings of betrayal and need, doubt and anguish that Logan had been simmering in those past few weeks. The only thing that saved him, that was his life raft, was hope. Hope that he would return, tempered with tenderness. Remembered passion. And patience. Patience the feral had learned from too long of a lifetime, despite the restlessness that many felt characterized him and summed him up too easily.

And between them sprang joy, golden and blindingly bright. Relief. Solace and reassurance.

“Ya took it all away,” Logan repeated, as though in a trance. “Ya made me feel like it was because of me. Thought I drove ya away, from whatever ya saw in my head when we…y’know,” he offered, waving a hand in a familiar gesture for Remy to understand him. Remy mutely shook his head in protest, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Ain’t many people who can deal with what’s in my head. Why d’ya think…I’m always so fuckin’ alone? Huh?” He watched the slow rise and fall of Remy’s chest, focusing on it, and the other workings of Remy’s body and the emotions on his face. Remy stubbornly wiped away the tear streak, hating it. Logan could hear his pulse and smell the changes in him, confirmed by the determination in his eyes.

“Ya don’ hafta be alone, an’ Remy ain’ afraid of what’s in yo’ head, chere. Only t’in Remy’s ‘fraid of right now is walkin’ ya walk out dat do’, even if Remy deserves it. Done ya wrong, chere. Real wrong.” Remy succeeded in putting his boxers back where they belonged and finally rose from the bed. He moved with easy grace and approached him, less plaintive, more confident.

“Ya have any idea how hard it is ta get close ta anyone fer me? Knowin’ I could lose ‘em, or that I scare ‘em shitless half the time?”

“Ya nevah scared ol’ Remy,” he boasted, but there was no cockiness in his tone. “Evah, chere. Still don’ scare him, unless, like we talked ‘bout earlier, ya walk out on me right now.”

There was an undercurrent of energy between them full of desperation and need. Remy was enveloped in Logan’s fierce longing, and he felt it just as keenly. Their breathing adapted the same rhythm, their hearts, the same beat.

“Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that again,” Logan growled. His scowl would have scared the boogey man, but his body still inclined itself toward him, like a tree leaning toward the sun.

“Ain’ got no reason t’be scared. M’right here. Ain’ goin’ nowhere. Not wit’ you right here, chere.” The loft around them fell away. The shadow that bathed them both lost its oppressiveness, instead offering them shelter as Remy reached out one long, slender hand for Logan’s. He collected his fist and unballed it, feeling the tension thrum and jump in Logan’s veins. Logan shuddered and closed his eyes, opening himself to his touch, both psychic and physical.

He craved it.

Remy’s scent, so near and so tempting, was driving him nuts. His skin was still warm from his time between the sheets, and his body beckoned to him to drag him right back and covet it for himself, greedily, endlessly…

“Rem…” Remy didn’t let go of him, and he didn’t try to pull away. His red-on-black eyes were liquid and brilliant as he slowly eased Logan’s palm against his chest, urging him to stroke the supple flesh through his soft tank.

Remy’s heartbeat resonated through his flesh. Electricity jolted through him, waking up every nerve in his body; whether that reaction was from his charm, simple lust or some hidden benefit of his kinetic power, Logan didn’t have a clue, and didn’t give a fuck either way.

“Wan’ you, chere. Right here. Right now.” Logan sucked in a breath and closed his eyes once again, hiding their beauty. His fingers flexed convulsively against Remy’s chest, and he balled up the neckline of the flimsy material instinctively, unable to control the urge any longer…

“Right now,” Logan informed him roughly, “but not fuckin’ right here!” Ororo’s lingering scent and the aroma of her plants was a frustrating counterpoint to Remy’s signature smell. The scamp’s own flavors were tangy and succulent, unembellished by cologne with the exception of whatever soap he used to clean himself with.

One brawny arm, heavily roped with muscle, snaked out before Remy could even blink and wrapped itself around his waist. Logan jerked him flush against his body, released his shirt and grasped the scruff of Remy’s neck, dragging him down for a punishing kiss. Remy’s gasp and exclamation of surprise was cut off; all he could do was moan as Logan ravished his mouth as the kiss turned molten and hot.

He decided he didn’t mind.

That’s what was missing from his dream. The kiss. It would’ve been perfect with the kiss.

Remy’s knees buckled in rapture and breathlessness as Logan had his way. Rough fingers clutched his hair, savoring its gossamer texture and soft waves, the blunt fingernails gently scraping his scalp. Remy clung to him, hands stroking that hard back as he’d longed to do, cupping that face to feel the brisk rasp of Logan’s whiskers. His stubble enflamed his flesh wherever it touched, and it began to touch him everywhere.

It was over too soon.

“C’mon,” Logan ordered, breaking the kiss and leaving him baffled and far too aroused.

“Neh?” Remy mumbled, almost dizzy but willing to do whatever Logan and his little heart desired.

“Out. Now. With me.” His hand looped around Remy’s arm in an implacable grip and hauled him toward the door of the loft.

“Easy, chere!”

“YOU take it easy! Yer drivin’ me nuts!” Together they stumbled down the stairs, Remy nearly tripping over Logan’s heels. He stifled a laugh at Logan’s consternation, and his insistence.

There was just…something, about being wanted so much, by someone who was so determined to never want or need anybody.

Logan stalked to his bedroom door with Remy in tow and kicked it open, thankful that they didn’t pass anyone in the hallway.

“In!” he barked in a low voice, sending a shiver up Remy’s spine. He thrust him in before turning back to the door and shoving it shut, turning the lock with a sharp click. Remy’s breathing was stertorous as he watched Logan, only taking a scant glance at his surroundings.

The room smelled like him, and like a vestige of cigar smoke and Jack Daniels. It was sparely furnished. A gleaming katana hung from a shelf on the wall, as well as a large, beautiful fan. Only a handful of framed photographs hung from the wall. Remy didn’t pause to see who they were of; all he wanted to see up close was his lover.

His lover.

“Don’ be bashful, mon ami,” Remy drawled wickedly. His smile held mischief and dark promise. He crooked his finger and waggled it toward him. “C’mere, chere.”

All he remembered was Logan’s answering growl and being stalked like he was the Wolverine’s dinner before he was knocked off his feet. Logan was the only person walking on two legs who’d ever gotten the jump on Gambit before.

He accidentally bit his tongue when Logan launched them both back onto his king-sized bed. Remy knew Logan wasn’t a light, easy sleeper and that he needed room despite his short stature. Logan resumed what they started in the loft, attacking his mouth and letting their groans mingle. The luscious heft of his body pinned Remy to the mattress. The sheets felt cool at his back, and he longed for every inch of his bare skin to wallow in them once he worked off his clothes.

Logan didn’t make him wait. His fingers were tearing and snatching at the boxers, chucking them on the floor, and he savagely whipped off his tank, the neckline gently abrading Remy’s chin as it was yanked over his head. The motion made his hair crackle with faint static. The cool air of Logan’s bedroom kissed his now naked flesh, but was driven away by Logan’s body heat. Remy longed for him.

“Please, chere!” he moaned. “Wan’ y’so bad.”

“I don’t believe ya,” Logan rumbled into his throat, nipping it with the hard press of his lips.

“Can’t y’feel me, chere?” Remy bucked up against him, thrusting up his now raging erection for Logan’s inspection to convince him. He practically rode his thigh in the attempt to get closer. He finally found him, just as hard, throbbing and thrusting back.

Remy stroked him greedily while Logan’s mouth explored him in leisure. His own fingers found purchase in the hem of Logan’s tank and stripped it from him, revealing the rough-hewn grace of his body.

“Dieu,” he muttered. Logan was indescribable. His body appeared sculpted out of granite, generously muscled without resembling a tree trunk. Remy wanted to touch him everywhere, from his pecs to his taut, rippling abdomen that jumped when he grazed it with his fingertips. He savored the brush of Logan’s crisp hair that sprouted over his torso, rasping against him and stimulating his skin. It was marvelous. Their hands bumped in their combined zeal to relieve Logan of his boxers.

It wasn’t a pretty mating. Teeth bit, lips suckled hard and hands gripped, probed and tugged. One moment Logan was on top; the next Remy covered him and kissed scorching trails down his body, zeroing in on Logan’s hot, stiff flesh.

“Holy!” Logan’s eyes snapped open wide as Remy slid between his splayed legs, nosing at his flesh through the coarse nest of black curls and then engulfed him. “FUCK!” Remy groaned in contentment around his cock and nodded.

That was his intention.

His flesh felt silky smooth and hard as a rock in his mouth. He shunted over it eagerly, devouring him as he stroked the supple curves of his inner thighs, teasing the undersides of his balls. Logan’s hips rocked in an effort to get closer, to sink further into that luscious heat. Oh, how he’d missed this.

“Remy,” he chanted mindlessly, foregoing his usual nicknames for him, basking in the reality of him, in his bed, pleasuring him until he couldn’t think straight. Logan’s hands fisted in the pillow and he writhed against him, his mouth, wrapped his legs around him and crossed his ankles against his lean, smooth back. Remy’s eyes were closed in rapture, and his groans resonated through him. His face was beautiful like that, cheeks gently drawn in with each suck, his chiseled lips pursed snugly around his prize. Remy drank in his affection and wonder as the flat of his tongue stroked Logan’s shaft, and he felt his fingers work their way into his hair again, clutching him close. He shared every sensation that rocked him, claiming some for his own. It drugged him.

He paused a moment, relaxing in the nook of his lover’s legs and stroking his abdomen. “Wanna hear ya come, chere. Long an’ hard. Remy loves hearin’ ya come fo’ him.” He lipped the plump, engorged head of his cock, breathing over its slick dampness before he engulfed it again.

“Aw, God! S’good, darlin’!” Logan choked out sounds of desire and need as Remy’s head swiveled and dipped around him in a spiral or two, taking him deeply enough for his lips to graze the base of his shaft; the head pressed and buffeted the roof of his mouth and pushed at the threshold of his throat. Remy exerted the effort to swallow him, taking a hint of his salty essence with him.

He gave another maddening pause, this time only sliding off him and murmuring around his length. “Come fo’ Remy, chere.”

“Not. Without. You,” Logan hissed. “Bring that ass up here!” Logan moved faster than he anticipated, which was a wonder after Remy nearly turned his legs to jelly. Logan leaned up and groped for him, strong hands clamping around his limbs, pushing him back and pulling him where he wanted until they were each facing the other’s cock. Logan pried Remy’s thighs apart and took his cock into his mouth. Remy’s shocked gasps mingled with the needy, throaty sounds Logan made around him. He bucked into his mouth, and slowly their bodies adapted to a shared rhythm, rocking together as they lay on their sides in a snug sixty-nine. They fit together like puzzle pieces, like yin and yang, so much in sync that they were of the same flesh.

Their sounds of pleasure grew in volume and length as they strained against each other and bucked and plunged. Pressure roared through Remy and pooled between his legs. He was going to come, hard, and he sensed that Logan was close. He felt the echo of Logan’s arousal and anticipation that yes, he too, was nearing his completion. Logan sensed his desperation, even frustration as he struggled not to lose it first.

“Let it go, darlin’.” Logan’s breath steamed over him before he settled over him again, milking him. Remy’s thighs flexed around him, threatening to crack him like a walnut, but it was just so good as Logan shunted over him faster, harder, pushing him over the precipice.

Logan’s flesh popped free from Remy’s mouth as he climaxed, bucking and writhing with the pleasure that rippled through his body. He heard Logan swallow his essence down, and his worries about reaching fulfillment first faded away. Logan indulgently, slowly licked him clean. He kissed Remy’s thigh as he untangled them. Logan righted himself and eased his body along Remy’s. Remy’s flesh was still overstimulated, and it jumped at the tender caress of Logan’s fingertips tracing the contours of his muscles.

“Wanted t’hear y’come, chere.” There was a hint of disappointment in his eyes, but Logan radiated contentment, and it reassured him.

“Ya will. And I wanna see ya when I do.” His erection was still raging and craving shelter in Remy’s body, but he hovered over Remy, leaning down to soul-kiss him one more time. Remy sighed into his mouth before Logan broke away to ease him onto his back. He surprised him by easing off the bed; the mattress sprung back from his weight. Remy looked up, confused and bereft.

“C’mon back!” he protested weakly.

“In a sec,” he grunted back. He heard Logan scrambling and cursing in the dark as he strode into the adjoining bathroom, followed by the swish and slam of a medicine cabinet door. He was back in a flash, joining him once more.

Remy watched his silhouette in the dark, fiddling with a small container in his hands as he flipped open the top. The spurt of something wet, followed by the slick sounds of something wet rubbed against flesh piqued him. Logan nudged his thighs apart and settled himself between them, and his pelvis jumped in surprise as his cool, slippery fingers probed him.

“Yer perfect,” Logan groaned, loving the snug press of Remy’s flesh clenching around him. His fingers thrust into him, priming and stroking him. Remy’s body was pliant and ready for him, and neither of them could wait. Logan gripped and lifted his narrow hips and pushed against the tight, sweet pucker of Remy’s ass and thrust himself inside.

Logan was done with words. He lost himself in the sensations coursing through him and the glove-tight rim of flesh flexing around him as Remy’s features twisted in ecstasy. Remy’s face lost in passion was an erotic sight, a principal benefit of the position he chose. Logan’s hands skimmed over him, kneading his muscles and cock that was jerking and spasming back to life. Logan was engorged and wonderfully thick, stretching and filling him as he rode him. The taut tendons and cords of muscle in his neck strained, and Remy watched him grimace a bit with his efforts.

His body was a work of art, every muscle hard and rippling as he pistoned in and out. His fingers dug into his thighs and kneaded them. Logan felt a throbbing, sweet ache in his lower back from his exertions, but it was sooooooo gooooooooood…

There it was. That friction, that rush of tingles that swept over his skin. His sac was drawn up painfully tight, and he felt the cramp of his swollen dick, the slight spasm before Remy flexed around him again, pulling what he wanted from him…

He erupted in hot, thick spurts, his hips slamming into Remy of their own accord, reflexively, as though his body wouldn’t listen to his mind’s commands anymore. Those tremors and resulting thrusts rocked his partner, and he curled his hand around his cock, pumping him. Logan felt a sense of triumph and pride as Remy came again, this time dribbling cream over his fist.

Minutes later they lay tangled together. Remy was on his back, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully while Logan’s body was curled around his, his head resting on his shoulder. His thick waves of hair tickled Remy’s lips, and his arm was thrown over his waist, joined by the thigh he hooked over his leg.

“Can’t move,” Remy murmured. His smile was blissful.

“Ain’t gonna let ya anyway,” Logan informed him gruffly. Brat. His arm tightened around him when Remy nuzzled him, kissing the bridge of his nose.

“Have it your way, chere,” he shrugged, smothering a chuckle. Logan’s own eyes crinkled with amusement.

“I mean it, though,” Logan mused. “Don’t leave me.” Remy’s handsomeness was marred slightly by a scowl.

“M’tellin’ ya right now,” he replied, “m’gonna be right here when ya wake up dis mo’nin’. An’ anudda, ‘ting, chere…ya betta sleep well now.” Logan grunted at his. Remy chuckled.

When dawn broke, and the first light of morning broke through Logan’s window, he woke up to Remy’s radiant face and joyously realized that the Cajun kept his word.


END.