Logan came to a dead stop at the top of the stairs. He blinked once, then twice. No, it wasn't his imagination. There in the front hall, in front of God, the children, and anyone else who might wander by was the up-tight, irritating prick, Scooter, kissing a man. Now, the fact that old One-Eye was kissing a guy wasn't exactly a surprise. His nose had told him that the boy got aroused whenever Logan confronted him, but Scott Summers was Jean's lover. He was in mourning for her death and he'd closed off from almost everyone in the Mansion.
He evaluated the new man. He flared his nostrils and pulled in the scent of clove cigarettes and bourbon over a spicy scent that made Logan's mouth water. He and Scott were about the same height, but the new boy was slighter. His hair was long, pulled back into a pony-tail. He wore a ratty leather trench and motorcycle boots. They broke apart. Scott rested his head on the other man's shoulder. "You have something for me?" Scott asked.
"Ah, cher, you know I don' just come for deliveries."
"Yeah, but for four years you haven't come back at all, just sent me disks in the mail." Scott straightened up, pulling away from the embrace. "So, how about we try the truth this time."
"I heard what happened t' your girl s'all."
Logan couldn't stop listening. He didn’t move a muscle afraid they'd hear him and stop talking.
"So you came back to offer me a hug. Grand." Scott crossed his arms. The gesture seemed more protective than angry.
The young man sighed. He touched Scott's cheek. "Don' be like that, Scotty. You the one who told me t' leave. Didn' want me messin' things up with her. Didn' want to break my heart. All that wonderful goodie-two-shoes schtick you been tryin' t' force-feed ole Remy for years. Y' didn't mean it then, y' don' mean it now. Stop bein' Cyclops f' a minute, oui?" The young man's hands were half-covered with fingerless gloves. He stroked his knuckles along the edge of Scott's glasses. "Let m' be there f' Scott. I ain't on your team. I ain't a student. Sil tu plait?"
Scott snorted. He ran a hand through his hair. "I've never had any control over you, so I know better than to tell you to do anything. I sent you out on a recon mission and you didn't come back. The mansion was raided. You hear about that too? Or how about the fact that Stryker was brainwashing mutants into an army? Oh, I know, maybe you could have sent me some intel on the congressional committee?"
"Y' ain't blamin' me f' that! I done kept this security higher than the White House. Don' do no good when there's someone *on the inside* who told them how t' get in. Wait who went and got his sorry ass kidnapped again? Oui, that would be you an' Charles."
Scott paled at that. "You still know exactly where to put the knife."
"Watch m' twist it too. Merde, why y' have to have it this way? Ain't I allowed t' be sappy and sweet? Can't I just take care of y'?"
"I don't know, Rems, I just don't know. You walked away."
"You fell in love," Remy countered softly. "And she loved you. I couldn't get in the way of that."
"It didn't have to be that way."
"Jeannie don't know how t' share."
"And you do?"
"I ain't the marrying kind."
Scott winced. "Okay. Before I say anything else that can be twisted and turned around against me, let's try: welcome home, Remy. I've missed you. There? That better?"
"I don't know. Don' know if I believe y'." The boy's tone was light though and a quicksilver grin crossed his face. "Heard tell y' went and found Wolverine. Also heard y' went up against Magneto. And y' let him go too."
"'Let' isn't the word I'd use. And how did you hear about that?"
"Talked t' Mystique." Remy shrugged. "Most folks ain't sure where my loyalties are. Y' gonna offer m' a drink or we gonna do a debrief in the middle of the hall?"
"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Scott said, snorting. "Come on. I think there's still some bourbon in my office."
"Charles didn't take it?"
"Charles gives the illusion of privacy. And he's not the thief of the family."
The boy gave Scott a flourished bow. Then, he stepped into Scott's personal space again. He kissed him on the cheek. "I really am sorry about, Jeannie, cher."
"Thanks."
They left the front hall. Logan blinked, processing all the new information. "I need a drink," he muttered. He stalked to the kitchen for a beer.
****
"So are you really back or just here to mess with my head?"
"Ain't your head I'm interested in, cher. Your heart, oui, I'll take that." Remy's smile was sly and predatory. Scott wanted to hate him for it, but he couldn't. His shoulders slumped.
"God, I've missed you." He collapsed onto the couch next to his, what was Remy anyway? They'd been so much to each other: lovers, partners, friends, leaders even. He rubbed at his temple. Remy was his thief. That was the one thing that would never change between them. "So, you still planning to heist the Sistine Chapel?"
Remy chuckled softly, the warm whiskey sound burning Scott's ears. It warmed him from the inside. "Soon as I figure out the flight path. You'll still fly f' me, non?"
"Course. Heist of the millennium."
"Good. Last time I was here you was such a good boy the t'ought made you piss y'self."
"Crude bastard." Scott smiled in spite of himself. "But I love you anyway. Why did you stay away so long?"
"I'm willin' to share you, but that don't mean I'm willin' to watch it. Well, I ain't willin' to watch you with her. She hated m', cher. She hated m' for makin' you the bad boy you been when she met you." Remy leaned forward to stroke Scott's cheek. There was sadness in his eyes. "I never meant t' hurt you, cher. You know I wouldn't do not'in' like that on purpose."
"I know," Scott murmured. "So what does the word on the street say? Are we nuts?"
"Yeah." Remy grinned. "Non, whispers say you was in the White House, that Charles went and made some really dangerous secret service men lose time. Now, dat's a talent I can appreciate. Also heard tell you was in a government lab. He hurt y', cher?" The red eyes were serious, scared.
"He had this drug that let him control people. I don't know if he ever bothered using it on humans. I don't know who developed it."
"I do." Remy kissed Scott thoroughly, distracting him for a moment. "Got so much to tell you, Scotty-cher, but I want t' just curl up with y' for a bit. D'accord?"
Scott put his arm around the younger man and held him close, eyes closing. "Don't run out on me again, Cajun, or you're dead when I catch up with you."
A soft chuckle answered him. "Always loved the bloodt'irsty ones."
****
Logan was brought up short by Charles' amused voice in his head. //I see you've met Scott's bad habit.//
//Not met exactly, Chuckles.//
//Ah, I see.// Charles' voice was amused. //Is this a problem for you, Logan?//
//Why should I care who he bangs?//
The surprise was obvious this time. //Scott and Remy have more than a physical relationship.//
//Get out of my head.//
//As you wish.// Charles was gone, leaving Logan disturbed. He dug out a smoke and went to sprawl on the porch swing. He was surprised to find the new boy there, sitting with his legs spread, Scott relaxing between them. Both men were smoking.
"Bonjour," Remy said with a grin. Logan's claws sprang free at the sound. "You remember Remy, oui?" he purred. "You remember hittin' him hard enough t' leave him in the hospital mebbe?"
"I remember you being with a sick fuck who wanted to dissect me."
"He wanted y' to work for him. I was just the recruiter. Y' didn't have to hit so hard." The kid's pout was picture perfect and Logan itched to smack it off of his face. "Of course, y' better off here." The boy's face faded. He looked down at Scott who was carefully avoiding looking at anything but the decking. He stroked Scott's hair. "M. Chatton sends his regards."
Logan stepped forward, threatening. Scott put a hand on his frames. "If you attack, I'll knock you down," he said quietly. "I don't know why you two have gotten into a pissing match, but I'm not going to stand for it. And Remy, if you don't stop bating him, I'm going to have to do something drastic."
The expressions that ran across Remy's face were hard to pin down. Finally, it settled into a curious smile. "Like what?"
"Spank you. Steal your smokes. Ground you. I'm sure that the jail that was holding Mags would love the challenge of holding you."
"You wouldn't turn po' Remy in."
"I'm not above making sure you're locked up and you know it," Scott replied, voice turning cold and hard. "But I think it would be easier to just beat you."
Remy shifted uncomfortably. He looked up at Logan. "Fine. I'll be good." Logan raised a brow. He had the strangest feeling that Scott actually would beat up the Cajun just to prove his point. The Cajun brushed a kiss over Scott's hair. "Sorry f' stirrin' him up."
"Prove it."
"Quoi?"
TBC