2.00AM

2.00AM

A/N: This is technically a prequel to "Hunger" and "Vegas Vacation." However this story can be read as standalone. Enjoy!

Tuesday
1.45am
The tall man stood there on the roof; the smoke of his cigarette filtered the starlight. He made no sound as his trench-coated silhouette traveled to the edge of the roof and sat down.

He remembered the stench of the swamps; those thick, choking fumes that made his cigarettes smell like the finest cologne in comparison. It was the smell of stagnant water, rotting carcasses and vegetation, congealing together in the slimy muck of decay. It was the smell of death; the final, eternal stasis.

He dispelled those fumes with memories of the city. The sweet smell of the street vendor's products filling the air; the sounds of people moving, talking and trading; the jazz music floating through every corner of the French Quarter. Nothing was static; novelty and excitement flowed through the streets. It wasn't just the pockets to pick that drew him in; it was the vitality, the movement, being in a world where change was the only constant.

2.00AM
Gambit was shaken out of his thoughts by a bellowed roar below him. Logan's having a nigh'mare again. The roars of rage were tinged with despair and accompanied by the sound of thrashing and shattering furniture. Gambit heard the window below open, followed by the sound of adamantium claws plunging into the mansion's stonework as Logan pulled himself up to the roof. Remy looked at the feral; Logan's hair was even more wild than usual, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Logan," Remy nodded in acknowledgement.
"Cajun," Logan replied in a voice weary and slightly shaky.

Remy felt the body heat of the Canadian as Logan sat down beside him. He watched Logan light a cigar as he descended back into thought. He's here every nigh'. Two AM. Somet'ing dat never changes. Yet nothing about Logan brought back the stench of the swamps. As unchanging as Logan was, there was still the Logan that routinely told Scott to stick his orders up his ass. And there was still the Logan that still managed to keep going, even when the nightmares never let him rest. Too stubborn to accep' defeat.

Maybe staying de same versus change isn' as simple as death versus life.

Wednesday
1.45am
The cigarette moved again to the Cajun's lips as he looked out over the gardens. Gazing from his perch on the roof he didn't take in many details. He was too busy dealing with that problem from last evening.

Life an' death. Somet'ing dat's preoccupied ar'ists, musicians, an' now t'ieves.

Changes, dynamism and life. As much as Remy thrived on this, doubts persisted. Splinters in his mind drove him to ask himself about whether there were changes he had problems with.

Belle. When her love suddenly changed to possession and obsession. That torture-ring which electrocuted him whenever she wanted; he still remembered the fiery, agonizing arcs that coursed through his flesh.

Countless instances when someone he thought was his ally stabbed him in the back. Whether in a ballroom with the socialites of the guilds, or a dank sewer that swarmed with rats.

I's wonderful when t'ings change. Bu' when people change... Never liked dat..

And then it hit him.

Logan... he never changes. Gambit smiled warmly at the thought as the smoke of his cigarette coiled upwards through the moonlight.

2.00am
The sounds of violated, primal terrors were followed by the crunch-clinks of metal plunging into granite. Gambit looked into those eyes; blue surrounded by white that was shot through with scarlet.
"Logan," Gambit nodded in acknowledgement.
"Gumbo," the feral replied in a fatigued rasp.

Gambit kept his eyes on the shorter man; he watched as Logan withdrew a cigar from his pocket and lit it. Him and Logan; the misfits. Cyke always suspec's us, says we le' de team down, we don' t'ink of o'ters enough. Logan always off to Canada; Remy often taking trips to steal the latest and greatest prize. De par' time X-Men, Remy observed.

And yet, he remembered all those missions together. It was always Remy's back that Logan had; always Logan's back that Remy had. When some powerful electrokinetic escaped from a mental asylum three weeks ago, it was Remy that pushed Logan out of the way of those white arcs coursing towards to the adamantium bones. And when Belle so wanted to claim her prize, it was Logan who declared that Remy wasn't a piece of meat, and it was Logan willing to back that declaration with adamantium-laced fury.

De irony. De men dat le' de team down never le' each o'ter down. Par'ners in being loners. But Remy didn't chuckle at that irony; he smiled at it. He took a final drag on his cigarette and crushed it beneath his boot before turning towards Logan again. The eyes still pulsed with blood.
"You' a good friend, mon ami."

Remy felt the warmth of Logan's thick arms surrounding him tightly and Logan's furry face nuzzling into his neck. As Remy returned the embrace, he felt the desperation in Logan's grip. Logan held him like one holds a liferaft in a hurricane; clinging to a beacon in the darkness.
"Logan..."
"Rems... " Logan softly growled, breathing heavily. Logan didn't need to say any more.

Thursday
2.00am
The sound that erupted from Logan's throat was a fusion of roars of rage and screams of agony. His claws sprung forth from his hands as he lept off the bed and tore into the nearby wall. The frenzied slashing soon halted as visions of infusion tanks dissolved into the moonlit noir of reality. Fuck, these nightmares won't end, will they?

He slid the window up and jammed his claws into the stonework of the mansion. Plunging the metal spires into the masonry and hauling himself up to the roof, he found himself smelling the air intently. Remy. He smells different tonight. Wait... is that aftershave?

As the Canadian pulled himself onto the ledge, his pupils widened at the extraordinary sight. Gambit stood there; ruby orbs burned through the blackness. Silk of the same red bathed the thief's muscular torso. The Cajun's long legs were sheathed in tight black leather and fingerless leather gloves clad those dexterous hands. Logan's enhanced senses feasted upon the elegant seducer; savoring the spicy scent, the long lines of Remy's body, the darkness of those eyes, the mirror-shine of those motorcycle boots. Logan couldn't stop himself from making a small gasp.

Remy's smoldering stare penetrated those bloodshot, blue eyes. He whispered to the feral, keeping his tone soft and smoky.
"You need comfort, cher. Somet'ing dat eases de nigh'mares, non?" Remy's agile form strutted towards Logan; his movements flowed gracefully. "I can give dat to you, mon ami."

Logan's breathing sped up; his pupils dilated. His mouth watered at the sight of the Cajun; the way the moonlight glittered on the crimson silk shirt. But the color of the shirt... oh god no... what have I done? He turned away as he pushed against the tide of memories. His gaze met the harsh, gray cement of the roof as fractured images of a screaming, beautiful, bloodstained face danced in his head. I'll do it again, won't I?
"Cajun... I...."

Logan inhaled deeply before he continued. "A while ago... when they had me working for them..."
"Dat's over cher. Don' le' dem hur' you any more. Don' le' dem deny you your needs."
"There was no line between killin' and fuckin'." Logan inhaled again, continuing in a quieter rasp, "both felt just as good."

Remy remained unfazed. He slowly glided towards the turned-away feral and rested a long, skilled hand on the thick shoulder.
"Dat was den, mon ami. Dis is now."
"I... I don't think I'm over it enough..."
"Logan, wha' you were is no' wha' you are," the Cajun consoled, "an i's no' who you are, cher."

Logan turned around again, baring his teeth in a snarl. But the tone of voice lacked anger; it sounded like a reluctant warning.
"What if I still like killin' that much? What if yer suckin' me off and I just pop a claw in yer head fer the thrill? And what if..." he paused, his tone suddenly becoming quiet and unsteady, "what if the nightmares come back and I impale ya durin' the night?"

"Dat won' happen, mon cher."
Logan heard Remy's voice engulf his ears. The soft, deep purr warmed him and led him only to believe the Cajun. The long hand traveled down his bicep slowly; nerves ignited even from that delicate caress.
"Remy can take de dreams away, mon ami."

2.10am
As he lay back on the decadent black silk of Gambit's bed, Logan felt the strange calm of Remy's charm washing over him. It flooded his mind, making it impossible not to believe that Remy could do what no meditation or medication could before; take the dreams away. His gasp hitched in his throat as he felt the Cajun's hot breath surround and engulf his thick, throbbing shaft. His fingers dug into the sheets as that hot, wet tongue encircled his engorged manhood; traveling around the head and pressing slowly into the spot below it. He arched off the bed, growling and moaning unintelligible words. Tightness built in his groin as he inched ever closer to climax; sweat dripped off him as his gasps deepened.

Remy's tongue continued its assault; savoring the salty, meaty flavor of Logan with gluttonous abandon. His hand reached up; his fingers ran across the slabs of hard muscle covered in dense, dark fur that was slightly dampened with sweat. The solidity of the man beneath him, reliable, dependable.. somet'ing I can trust. As he tasted Logan's closeness on his tongue and heard the low, warm growls emerge from Logan's throat, he took the feral's pulsing cock deeper into his maw.

Arcs of savage pleasure coursed up Logan's spine; brutality-roughened hands wrenched into the silk sheets. That vortex of heat around his manhood drove all thought from his mind. His cock, his face, every patch of his skin was fevered with lust. The burning in his loins could be contained no longer; spasms wracked his body as he released and flooded the Acadian's mouth with his essence. Logan didn't roar as he came; he made a slowly swelling, deep, rough purr of contentment.

The Cajun greedily swallowed Logan's seed and crawled back up to look at the man's face; half-lidded, ice-blue eyes blissfully gazed back into his own burning embers. He felt the calm feral begin to move; Logan placed those rough hands on the globes of his butt.
"Thanks Cajun..." Logan panted as the blue eyes moved to Gambit's own erection, "now I owe ya one."
The hands pulled Remy forward. His knees astride Logan's wide chest; Remy watched as he saw his long shaft slide between the shorter mutant's rough lips. The heat. The tongue trailing along his shaft. Remy was leaking immediately, gripping the feral mutant's wild mane and tossing his head back. Low purrs spilled from his mouth as the Canadian devoured his manhood. The pressure in his balls spiked.

Logan gazed up at the Acadian. That lithe abdomen, the broad and strong chest, that delicate sprinkling of cinnamon hair down the torso, that stubbled jawline which was both masculine and elegant. His eyes feasted upon the godlike physique. He took deep draughts of the spicy musk as he heard those leonine purrs flow into his ears. The purrs became cries and growls as Gambit finally climaxed; Logan swallowed the sweet taste with no hesitation.

As Remy slid in beside the feral, he wrapped his long arms around the stocky man. He spooned Logan from behind and trailed kisses along Logan's thick, sturdy shoulder; his hands traveled down the Canadian's hairy arms and he interlaced his long fingers through Logan's knuckles.

Logan felt the Acadian's warmth flow into his body. Those dexterous thief's hands rested atop his, precisely where the claws would pop if he... no.. I trust him.. I won't dream. Not an inch of his body was left untouched by Remy's; so close, so.. protectively was Remy holding him. Then that smoky voice caressed his ear again; "don' be afraid cher, you won' dream." The soft, deep purr lulled him to surrender to unconsciousness.

11.30am
The first thing he saw upon waking were those red-on-black eyes gazing into his. Logan couldn't think of anything he'd rather have seen first.
"No dreams, mon ami?" Remy's face bore an expression of sincerity.
"No dreams," Logan growled back, still groggy from the best night's sleep he had in decades.
The End