Disclaimer: Marvel doesn't give us fan fiction writers enough credit, do they? I mean, if you look at the story plots for Gambit and Rogue in their comics right now, then you'd understand why fan fiction is much more preferable. ;) Oh, and I don't own the lovely song used for this fic. That would be Maroon 5's "Shiver," of course. That being said, Adam Levine will be mine (…hey, I can keep dreaming, you know)!
If there's anything in this story that I do own, then it would be its the club Toucher (uncanny; in French, it means "to touch"; hopefully, you'll see why later). And, although I'd want to own them, I'm placing cameos for my author friends here, as well as advertising their fics. Ishandahalf (a.k.a. Trish) is up first – I'm going to take your Barbie doll and shave its head if you don't know who she is:p Ish totally rocks for putting up with me through e-mail. Enjoy, Ishy! ;)
A/N: Yay, another fic from me! Well, I'll try not to be too disappointing this time. In terms of updating, I mean. Anyway, this was originally intended to be a hot, fluffy, plot-less one-shot, but I decided to cut it into five chapters, with two interludes somewhere in between. The chapter titles are taken from a line that stands out from the five stanzas of the song "Shiver." Lend it your ears; it's great!
Since this is my first time to write an "R" fic (for implied themes), I apologize for any awkwardness in here. Let's hope I have beginner's luck!
Shiver by melancholic
1. Queen of Runaround
The lights were dazzling, the liquor and ladies, intoxicating. As the disco ball of the club known as Toucher continued rotating, the reflection of the other spotlights that accompanied its distorted background glimmered on its glassy surface, casting a myriad of colored beams all over the room. Remy LeBeau, one of the establishment's more patronizing customers, allowed his sight to receive the spectacle of rays emitted from said disco ball, it acting like the sun hovering in the sky the dancers below depended on, the syncopated rhythm fittingly transforming into an upbeat tune – the song of the dancers' stars.
As Remy and his cousin, Emil Lapin, neared the counter where their favorite - and in their opinion, the most trustworthy - bartender, Logan, was leaning against, Remy chuckled when he saw the typical group of people seated on stools opposing the table. There was the accountant named Bobby (Remy, when he was on Guild "business," often saw him in the bank of the city, muttering incomprehensible mathematical equations as he merrily scribbled) whom Remy was certain was drinking from his eighth tequila shot-glass, moaning and groaning about his girlfriend, Lorna, "screwing around with his neighbor, Alex."
Now, that was a coincidence, Remy noted, recognizing the man sitting beside Bobby as Alex' elder brother, Scott, who in turn was drooling on his beer mug while his wider-than-saucers eyes followed the actions of Emma Frost, a wealthy, young CEO that knew Toucher as her vice; a drastic change from the money mogul she was during the day, and unassuming seductress at night. Logan even mentioned that Emma worked in the club briefly as a stripper, her only required payment being that her identity as the "White Queen," one of the place's most wanted workers, be kept a secret from her parents, who'd obviously be scandalized at the thought of their precious little angel's alternate profession. Remy would've been glad to inform Emma's mother that her daughter wasn't that great in bed; her hands weren't as deft as Remy would've liked.
It paid to know almost everyone in town; in his trade as a thief, Remy found it useful to have some dirt on just about anyone he'd meet. Take Logan, for example: he wasn't aware of how much Remy knew he was using Scott's infatuation with Emma to his advantage, wooing Scott's girlfriend, Jean, in the process. Now, wasn't it just the other night that Remy, curious to see where Logan had run off to an hour before his break, only to hear, with an understanding smirk, the combined moans of whom he suspected were Logan and Jean, spilling from the hollow walls of the men's restroom?
Remy, after ordering a bourbon from a seemingly out-of-it Logan, rolled his eyes knowingly at Emil, who vanished from the seat next to his. Remy wasn't blind; he let the sounds of Emil's not-too-discreet conversation infiltrate his ears. So the new girl that caught his eye's named Trish, eh? Remy concluded, hoping Trish knew that Emil preferred to have his ladies take the lead in bed, especially since he took the meaning of the word "gentleman" to a deeper, more serious level. Remy then chose to let his younger cousin have fun, tearing his gaze from the couple. Yes, he'd definitely have to tease Emil later…
Bored, Remy glanced abruptly at his watch, mildly surprised that no woman brave enough to bring out the beast in him had approached just yet. No matter - it was still early. When Remy was just at the last stage before getting drunk, he'd try to imprint the time before he got lucky in the usually reliable, sober fragment of his mind. He took out his playing cards in a swift fashion, falling into his habit of fiddling with them. As he scanned the room, the lights playing across the enthralling shadows on his face, eyes reminiscent of his passion as a lover, Remy shuffled his favorite deck, the motion of the red and black blurs in his hand connecting his tainted ruby eyes and the accelerated beating of his heart… when he spotted her.
She was definitely no one he'd ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on; his gaze was riveted at the fluid activity of her hips as she swayed, the beats dictating her rhythm. He let his stare travel upwards, allowing his vision to drink in more of the cleavage that boasted of a perfectly-shaped bosom; he almost assented to the plummeting of the cards he was fiddling with, and when he managed to spare them from a tragic, untimely death of the floor of the club, he felt his fingertips surge with the energy he tried so hard to contain; he was sparked by this nameless deity gliding alongside worthless beings.
Remy, his breath caught in his chest, cursed any man who, like him, was devouring the presence of this temptress; the façade that she displayed beguiled him to notice her truly attractive features, slightly tousled russet locks, white-striped tresses brushing a heart-shaped face, radiant emeralds being her eyes. He damned the man she was grinding with currently, her lower areas beckoning to her partner's own. Remy scowled at the blatant bulge bursting from the man's pants, attempting to ignore the similar expression he possibly shared with every other male in her vicinity. Remy then knew that his excitement was mounting, making itself known by means of his own manhood. With mystified eyes, a brow furrowed due to frustration, and his own delectable leer to match her enticing smile, Remy kept his gape fixated on the tempting Rogue, for that was what she was – a rascal after his own heart, and every man who was staring dazedly at her.
You build me up
You knock me down
Provoke a smile
And make me frown
You are the queen of runaround
You know it's true
A/N: There, I know it's pathetic. Is it even worth continuing? Aw heck, humor me here and tell me what you think! Remember, if you watched Shrek 2, like the Fairy Godmother says (er, it's paraphrased), "Happiness is just a review away!" It satisfies you, it makes me happy - we both win! Yes, can you tell that I'm begging? Again, I hope you liked this one, even just a little… Adieu, don't forget to review!
Written on: 06.07.04