J'ai Envie de Toi

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"Cheezit?"

"Bobby! We're tracking after your kidnapped girlfriend, and you're eating junk food. You, like, totally need to get your priorities in order. Aren't you, like, even scared for her?" Kitty twisted in her seatbelt to face the boy beside her.

They were currently in the backseat of Scott's Hummer, on their way down to Tennessee in hopes of tracking down Rogue. The team had split, half traveling by air, half by road. Piotr had gone with the former, which left Kitty rather disappointed, not to mention annoyed at being stuck alone with the bottomless pit called Iceman.

"Of course I am!" the words were a bit slurred as Bobby tried to defend himself and stuff crackers into his mouth at the same time. "But she's a tough chick. It's not like anything could happen to her! No one'd be able to lay a finger on her." He stopped when his mouth became too full to talk around his food, so he took a moment to chew and swallow, before resuming his speech – not before popping a few more cheezits into his mouth.

Uuughh, teenaged boys! Kitty thought to herself.

"Besides, she kind of had it coming, didn't she? All the moping and biting people's heads off. At least now she can whine over how horrible her life is legitimately. She's probably having the time of her life, wallowing in all that self-pity!"

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"Mah life sucks." Rogue was leaning over the bar, head resting on her folded arms. Six overturned shot glasses were littered around her, along with a huge glass half filled with a long island ice tea.

"Seriously, if mah life were a mosquito, an' Ah was out in the jungle, Ah would be...what's that word again? When ya...do tha thang? Ya know..." She kicked her stool with the heel of her boot in frustration. "Fuck. Remy, help meh out heah! Ya know, when ya get all...ya know!"

Remy raised his eyebrow. "Intoxicated?"

"Yeah, that's it! Intoxi – hey, wait...no!" She tried to deliver her usual punch in the shoulder, but missed by half a foot. Before she could even register the fact that she was falling forward, she found her face smushed up against Remy's chest. Inhaling deeply, she sighed. "Ahhh... Calvin Klein. Much better..."

Remy grabbed her arms gently and pushed her back onto her stool. "Y'life don't suck, chere. So, y'been given a bit of a challenge. Jus' shows how strong y'are. Ya young an' healt'y...need t'eat a little more, mais we's workin' on dat...an' look, y'travelin' de country wit' such un beau Cadien as me. Sittin' in a bar, drinkin' fine quality sout'ern whiskey, surrounded by bigots. What's so sucky 'bout dat?"

It's because Ah'm sittin' next to a sexy -as -hell Cajun – one that ah can nevah touch! Rogue thought to herself. Aloud, she said, "'cause...I gotta pee real bad, but Ah don't think Ah can make it all the way ovah theah to the bathroom."

Remy fell off his stool, caught in a violent fit of laughter.

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"Omigod, Bobby Drake! I can't believe you just said that! Rogue's your girlfriend!"

"Or as much of one as she can be. Kinda hard when she can't even do the shit that girlfriends are supposed to do."

Kitty scrunched up her nose in confusion. "Like what?"

"Like...go down on me, or even give me a – "

"EEEEWWWWW! That's like, so totally disgusting!" Kitty leaned forward and reached her hand through the back of the passenger's seat, pulling a startled Nightcrawler into the backseat. She phased through the pristine black leather, ending up in the passenger seat herself. Bucking up, she crossed her arms and huffed.

Beside her, Scott clenched his jaw. "No. Powers. In. The. Car," he almost growled.

Kitty looked at him with an exasperated look. "Oh, please! I know what I'm doing. It wasn't my phasing that did that," she emphasized, pointing at the side-view mirror which still had a big dent where the plastic was blown off the edge and a small crack running through the corner of the glass.

Scott did growl this time, reminding Kitty of Wolverine's Happy Sunday mornings.

They remained silent for a few miles, before Bobby spoke up. "Hey, can't we listen to some music or something? It's getting boring." He accentuated this statement with a loud crunch as he stuffed a handful of cheezits into his mouth.

"Oh, give me that!" Kitty reached back and snatched the box of crackers out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"Deal!" Kitty settled back in her seat. "No wonder Rogue ran away or whatever, she probably got sick of you being such a total airhead!" She looked out the window, watching the cars they passed, nibbling on a cheezit.

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Rogue was laughing so hard, her sides began to ache. "No..no, no! Tha's so...not..." she stopped when another round of giggles took over. "...funnnnny!" She took a large gulp of her cosmo, slamming the glass down hard on the bar. The last of the drink spilled over her hand, which only caused her to giggle even harder.

Remy was having trouble breathing as well; his body shook violently with silent laughter.

"Okay...no...okay, Ah got one." Rogue scrunched her eyebrows together as she attempted a coherent line of thought. "Okay... so there wasa couple a...well, not a couple couple but a...a...y'know...so, two men was walking down the street, talkin' away, doin' men thangs...an' they pass this li'l bull dog bended ovah, lickin' his balls. The firs' guy turns ta th'other an' says, 'gee, Ah wish Ah coul' do that.' An' the secon' guy says, 'maybe ya should pet 'em firs'!'"

That sent Remy over the edge. He howled with laughter, doubling over and almost falling off of his stool.

While both of them continued gasping for air, an old man in a white, sweat- stained t -shirt passed by, scowling at them, muttering something about 'damn kids' and 'menace to society.'

Rogue and Remy's laughter died, replaced with two very large, mischievous smirks. They looked at each other and nodded slightly in agreement.

Remy slipped off his stool fluidly and began strolling slowly across the room, hands in his pockets. He was soon lost in the crowd that had accumulated in the past hour they had been there.

Rogue turned back to the number of empty drinks in front of her, snorting in amusement. She looked at the dirty mirror behind the rows of liquor bottles. Her reflection stared back at her with large, dilated eyes. Her make up was smudged beyond repair. She sloppily took a napkin and dipped it in the glass of clear liquid in front of Remy's spot, her mind too clouded to remember that it wasn't water that he had been drinking. She blotted the napkin over her face, wiping as much of the heavy makeup off as she could. After having practically scrubbed her skin raw, she stopped and opened her eyes.

It took a few seconds for the vodka to seep past her eyelashes.

"AHH! Fuck! Shit! Oh, fuckin'...Son of a bitch!" Rogue writhed, slapping her hands over her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she felt her eyes water and overflow, sending a stream of tears down her face.

She had just managed to recover and cease flailing around when Remy returned. Bouncing onto his seat with a rather smug grin, Remy faced Rogue and prepared to speak. Before any words made it past his lips, he noticed the tear streaks running down her face. Immediately his arrogant expression turned to one of concern. "Chere...what's de matter? What's wrong?"

Rogue responded a loud, ungraceful snort, which quickly turned into tittering, which soon blew into a wheezing guffaw.

Remy could only look on as the small girl in front of him roared manically, pointing at his drink. He shook his head in bemusement.

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The package arrived within hours. It would have been delivered even faster if Marius hadn't been forced to sneak under the gaze of the ever diligent and highly invasive Russian Mafia.

"Fuckin' Ruskies," he muttered under his breath as he ripped open the package, barely noting the wrapping paper. Papa Boudreaux, rightful leader of the New Orleans' Assassin's Guild, had never been known for his sense of humour. Taking out the varnished box, Marius ran his fingers over the intricate lock. He knew it was, though small, one of the most advanced locking systems one could find. Taking out a small key dangling from a chain around his neck, he inserted it into the small hole and twisted a few times in a rhythmic pattern. After about fifteen seconds, the lock finally clicked open.

Taking care to rotate the key one more time, lest the mechanism automatically relock, he carefully opened the lid. A wide grim spread across his face. Taking ruby into his hands, he raised it into the light, basking in the glittering light which shone from it. What a beauty. Too bad it had to be destroyed.

At that moment, the heavy oak doors to his private office swung open, banging loudly against the walls.

A gorgeous, buxom blonde entered, swaying seductively on her five inch stilettos. Her blood red lips, full and perfect, were drawn into a fierce frown.

Marius bit back a groan as he watched his daughter advance upon him.

"Daddy!" Came the high-pitched whine Marius had expected. Nevertheless, his eyes automatically squinted as the nettling tone pierced through his brain. Marius wondered why she bothered with a gun at all.

"Oui, ma fille?"

"Julien won' give m'back mah — oh, daddy!" she stopped, staring at the ruby dangling from Marius' thick fingers. "Is dat for moi?" Belle's eyes grew wide and shiny, like two twin sapphires looking upon a sister gem.

Marius rolled his eyes, dropping the ruby back into its case. "Non, Ma fille. Dis be business." He ignored the childish pout that appeared on his daughter's face. "Why don' y'go ask Marianne t'go shoppin' wit'ya. Get dose new shoes y'been moanin' about." He shut the lid to the wooden case so he could reach into his pocket to give his loving little brat a couple hundreds, but the movement caused the discarded wrapping paper to shift, unveiling the ace of spades laying face up on the mahogany desk. Marius tensed.

It took but moments for the ear-piercing scream to echo around the room. Quick as lightning, Bella Donna – self-proclaimed sexiest assassin on this side of the Mississippi – jumped onto the desk and snatched the card up with strained, claw-like fingers. Set in a crouch, Belle turned her head to snarl at her father. "Where...did you get dis?" She held up the card between her talons.

Marius gulped. This was not going to end well. He forced his voice to remain calm. "Jus' doin' business, Belle."

The blonde harpy in front of him growled deep within her throat. "You said y'didn't know where he was."

"I don', Belle, chere. He just de middle man, hein? De go-between. Y'know how dat goes. No information passed. For protection. I don' know where dis come from, and dey don' know where dis is goin'. I don' need t'tell y'dat."

Belle was staring at the card. If she had heard a word he said, she gave no indication. A dazzling smile slowly spread across her face, causing a wave of ice to spill down Marius' backbone. "Maybe I should get dose shoes after all," she said in a low, mischievous voice.

When the door slammed shut behind her, Marius sagged in his chair, letting out a jagged breath. This was not good. Not good at all. "Merde," he swore under his breath.

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"Damn...that's a lotta condoms." Rogue squinted her eyes as she held a packet of trojans in front of her. Half a dozen more packets unrolled themselves, spiraling down and hitting the top of the bar. "Ya really think 'e needs alls them?"

Remy looked over, checking which wallet she had in hand. "Naw. Bet dose have been tucked in dere for a couple of years, oui?"

Rogue looked again at the driver's license lodged between the worn folds of cheap leather. The face that stared back at her reminded her of a fellow mutant she had met a while back. He went by the name of Blob. Mean SOB. Rogue turned the photo sideways, shaking her head to clear the rather annoying bout of double vision which seemed to be plaguing her. Naw...Blob had more hair, she thought.

If you could call it that. That kid had a head as greasy as the pizza he inhaled every morning, a loud, contentious voice echoed through her brain.

Fuck. Yuu needda stop enlight'in' us wid yuur past sex-capades. HAHAHA!

Dude, that was not funny.

Fer a redneck, I would of thought you'd have a higher alcohol tolerance. This is just pathetic. Even the skinny bitch is doin' better than you.

Ehhhh! Jus' cause ya got suuuper human healin' don' mean –

WILL Y'ALL JUST SHUT UP?

…

Woah... that never worked before, Rogue thought in a fuzzy sort of reflection.

"Chere?"

"Yeah, yeah, Ah'm here! So, who else ya got?" Rogue smirked over at her companion, who returned the gesture, reaching into his coat and taking out a bag. Turning it upside down over the bar, dozens of wallets tumbled onto the counter.

Rogue couldn't help but burst into another fit of giggles. Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, she knew that tomorrow she will be mortified at partaking in the embarrassingly girlish action...that is, if she happened to remember anything come morning. Turning her head slightly, she noticed the Cajun staring rather intently at her face. Her first reaction was to scowl, but it shifted quickly into a foolish grin as she snorted back the rest of her laughter. "What?"

Remy shook his head. "Y'know, you's got a real pretty face. Y'don' need all dat paint t'cover it all up all de time."

Rogue shrugged uncomfortable, suddenly feeling rather naked without the comfort of her usual layers of make-up. "Yeah...I do."

"Pourquoi?"

Rogue just shrugged again.

Remy regarded her with deep, glowing eyes. "S'nother mask, ain't it? Jus' anot'er barrier t'keep y'from de rest of de world, non?"

Rogue's eyes flashed with indignance. She inhaled deeply in preparation of a lengthy, loud retort. Opening her mouth and rising halfway off of her stool, she began to screech, "Now, ya see here, swamp rat! Ya don' know nuthin' about meh, or nuthin' 'bout mah pow – ahhhhrs!" Tripping on her own feet, Rogue collapsed to the ground like a pile of bricks.

Remy couldn't help but start to laugh. "Dieu!"

"Ah'm alright! Ah'm fine!" Rogue's arms flapped wildly in the air, hitting Remy in the knees. "Just...Ah'm stuck!"

With a chuckle, Remy bent down and pulled the fallen southern bell to a standing position. Smiling widely, he drawled out, "Tu es chaude quand tu es bu, pischouette. Tu es fou, mais chaude. Dieu, j'ai envie de toi desesperement ."

Waah wah waah wah waaaah. Rogue began to snicker again, reminding herself of the unintelligible sounds the invisible adults always made in those Charlie Brown cartoons. Normally she understood French fairly well, but with the cotton stuffed in her ears combined with Sweet Home Alabama playing for the fourth time in the background, he might as well have been speaking Pig Latin. "Ah can't understand a word ya sayin'."

Remy smiled. "I t'ink y'd better slow down a bit."

Rogue bristled. "Ah think Ah'm cap'ble of deciden' when Ah had enough, Thank ya very mush! Mun...Much!" She ripped herself from Remy's strong grasp. Immediately the room started to spin and Rogue's knees had somehow disappeared for the moment.

Remy caught her before she hit the floor again.

Leaning into Remy's shoulder, face buried in the lapel of his trench coat, Rogue swallowed back bile as she waited for the roller coaster to come to a complete stop. "Ah...think Ah've had enough."

Remy chuckled under his breath, shifting his hold on the swooning girl in front of him in the classic 'assisting the bumbling drunk in the art of walking' position. Throwing a few bills onto the table and leaving the pile of stolen wallets on the bar, Remy dragged his tres belle and totally wasted partner-in -crime out of the bar.

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Translations:

"Tu es chaude quand tu es bu, mon capon. Tu es fou, mais chaude. Dieu, j'ai envie de toi desesperement"- You're hot when you're drunk, little girl. you're crazy, but hot. God, I want you desperately.