EDITED NOVEMBER 2012 – Expect to see some changes here and there.

Synopsis: Remy and Rogue have been best friends since they were children but so far, nothing more has come of the friendship. But after one drunken night, their lives and friendship is never the same again.


Just Friends

By Ultimategammy91

Chapter One – It Starts With the Phone Ringing….

The telephone rang another five times before a sleepy hand reached out for the bedside table. After feeling around for a few more godforsaken rings, the bed-bound figure gave a groan of irritation, grasped the phone and put it to her ear and hissed.

"Remy LeBeau, it is one in the mornin'! What could ya possibly want?!"

On the other end of the call, Remy LeBeau gave an audible chuckle before he dared to speak again to his angry friend.

"Désolé Roguey. Mais dis is important."

Roguey gave an irritable roll of her sleepy eyes as she massaged the bridge of her nose and sighed. She was obviously in no mood for important conversations but nonetheless, he was her best friend and if it was important, she had to stand by him for that.

"Shoot LeBeau. Before ah come ovah there an' pull the trigger mah self."

There was the sound of light chuckling on the other end of the line.

"Har har. Did I leave those tickets to de Muse concert at y' place? I can't find dem et I have a date in about ten minutes."

Rogue's eyes widened instantaneously as her mind screamed "And that's what was so IMPORTANT AT ONE IN THE MORNIN'?!" A growl managed to escape her lips as she clenched her teeth angrily and momentarily thought of driving over to her infuriating friend's apartment to ring his neck. Instead, she settled for hissing angrily into his ear.

"Remy. Ah have a seven in the morning meetin' with a client over the phone. He's callin' from Australia. Do ya know the time difference between here and Australia?!"

Remy didn't gulp with fear like any normal man with sense would at the warning in Rogue's voice. Grinning unapologetically, he tried to sound sorry. But of course, he just couldn't convince her of that.

"Would "Désolé" an' a breakfast at Margo's suffice for an' apology?"

There was a pause of silence before Rogue spoke up.

"You're payin'."

He grinned triumphantly.

"Merci chére. Bonne nuit."

And with that, she hung up, set the phone down and tucked herself back under the bed covers. He, in turn, set himself back into the comfort of his living room couch and turned up the volume on the TV.

The next day…

Margo's café wasn't a terribly flashy place. There were days when you could find more people in a funeral home. On other days there wasn't even enough room to fit another coffee mug on the tiny little coffee tables between the couches. It wasn't flashy, it wasn't spectacular but it was enough for the pair of friends who sat at one of the tables by the window; looking out to the busy streets of New York City as they ate, drank and talked.

Rogue, who had had her fill of breakfast, to Remy's expense of course, gave a small sigh of content as she sat back in her seat with her eyes turned to the window. A hot mug of coffee was cupped between her hands, fending her fingers from the morning chill while the smell of fresh coffee weakened the pull of sleepiness she suffered from the night before. Remy, who was a night owl by nature, made no indication of tiredness. He took a slip from his black coffee, no milk or three packets of sugar like his friend before him, and sat back in his own chair. The chair legs creaked slightly under his weight with the extra helping of bacon and eggs that he'd devoured not minutes ago. Rogue, catching the sound, turned her gaze away from the window only to give him an amused smile. He returned it, a gesture he'd turned into a habit, before asking.

"What? Somet'ing on m' face chére?"

Rogue chuckled lightly, taking another sip of her sugar-induced coffee, before replying.

"No. But ah think there might be a lil' too much somethin' in that beer belly o' yours. How many plates did ya clean? Six?"


Remy replied with a chuckle as he gave his "beer belly," which wasn't in the least bit the gut she described, a pat of proud satisfaction. Rogue rolled her eyes, her amusement clear across her face. His need to crack such comments always seemed to get this reaction from her, that, or a slap to the back of his head. It really depended on what he said and to what extent he took the comment to. In this case however, the reaction was subtle. Remy had never been a man to put on huge amounts of weight, not even with his sometimes disastrous eating habits such as French Fries in melted chocolate; a whole two cans of Hershey's Chocolate. He was toned, tanned and lean, his hair was shoulder-length in that godly-gorgeous sort of way. Plus, his eyes were an unusual red-on-black. He had the physique (and charm) that every guy would envy while every woman would swoon at the sight of him. Every woman, save for Rogue that is. She didn't see him in that way, nor had she ever to Remy's knowledge. He figured this was partly because they had been just friends for nearly seventeen years. Plus, they bickered like no tomorrow so dating was either a really bad idea or would turn the ritual into some kind of fight, shut up and have sex kind of thing that bickering (yet apparently loving) couples seemed to do.

They were just friends.

"What am ah goin' t' do with ya Remy LeBeau?"

Remy grinned.

"Remy has a list. Mais left dem in another pair of jeans." (1)

Rogue's eyes rolled a second time, her smile consistent. His reverting back to third person was such a rare occurrence these days, having put a stop to it some time after he realised that it was exhausting enough talking to New Yorkers with his Cajun accent than having to explain who this Remy was he kept talking about. Plus, Rogue had insisted it wasn't as sexy as he thought.

Rogue pushed back a stubborn lock of white that frame her heart-shaped face. Her long auburn hair was streaked with a pair of white bangs. Today it was pulled back into a messy tail of curls. Her emerald green eyes seemed to glow with warmth as she smiled at him. Remy still found it astounding at times to believe how different she looked now compared to his childhood memories of her. Contrary to her awkward early teenage years, her Goth Stage and the opinions of some of her so-called high school peers, Rogue had turned from the classic awkward and shy girl to a gorgeous Southern Spitfire. She had always been intelligent, incredibly stubborn at times and strong willed in her beliefs but now, though she had her moments of sarcasm and coldness, she was a feisty, somewhat more sociable and classy young woman. Well, that's what Remy insisted anyway.

"Whatever Swamp Rat. So, how did the Muse concert go last night?"

The secretive grin across Remy's face vanished instantly. His nimble fingers began to fidget agitatedly with a sachet of coffee sugar. His lips pursed to a very thin line while his eyes suddenly lost their usual jubilant spark. Rogue waited patiently for him to explain but even so, she relished in the fact that Remy, the normally suave and cool ladies man, was at all out of sorts about something. Had it gone that bad with his date? That was not a usual occurrence for her usually suave charmer friend. When Remy tried to change the subject with the idea of more food, Rogue took matters to her own hands.

"Come on Rems. It couldn't have been that bad. What happened?"

The sugar sachet fell through his fingers before Remy raised a hand and scratched the back of his neck in that oh so typically male way. He took a few moments before replying.

"It was dat bad."

Rogue's eyes sparked with interest at the emphases of his words, a light smirk across her face.

"What was her name?"


Rogue put on an expression of mock-deep thought before adding her opinion. It was the normal way for them. Remy would go on a date, they'd meet up the next day and one way or another he would find something either very disturbing or ghastly about her or something very, very good to which Rogue would either agree or beg him to stop talking for fear of being deafened by too much information. It was the way his personal life was handled; by Rogue.

"Lemme guess. She's one of those wiccan and magic obsessedchicks that keeps about a million cats in one apartment an' secretly does all those voodoo tricks t' bewitch men's hearts into fallin' helplessly in love with them?"

At Remy's amused look but shake of his head, she pressed on.

"Did she try to pluck a few chunks of hair off ya? Oh she didn't try an' make ya drink somethin'…icky did she?"

She eyed him with half-joking wariness. Remy in turn chuckled but shook his head. Her analyses of his girlfriends were amusing but in this case, totally inaccurate. So without further ado, he began to explain.

"Non, not'ing like dat. Mais, dat I could probably take. Non. Dis one, well…t' put it lightly, she was a real hippy."

Rogue eyes sparked with interest again. She placed her chin in the palm of her hand for support as she widened her eyes for effect.

"A hippy huh? Did she try t' sell ya some weed when ya first met her?"



"Dat was after I found out she was a hippy."

"And when was that?"

"When she led moi back t' her place an'…"

Rogue scrunched her nose in disgust.

"Do ah want t' know the rest?"

Remy's eyes widened the moment the words escaped her lips but quickly shook his head and hands in protest; disgust written across his own face.

"Non, non, non. It wasn't like dat. At least, not after what I saw in dat apartment of hers."

The memory seemed to have the same effect on his expression as food poisoning. Rogue scrunched her nose again but this time in semi-disgusted amusement.

"Ouch…how bad was it in there?"

"Try t'inkin' about a Hippy's Volks Wagon in all de weird colours on de seats an' doors an' bright shaggy carpet. Den jus' smear every single piece of crap y' can t'ink of all over it. De smell too."

Rogue sat momentarily in stilled silence before a rather revolting image came to mind. A mix of a hippy's van and a dumpsite seemed to entwine together in her mind making her scrunch her nose in aversion.

"Ew… Were there rats?"

Remy shrugged.

"Didn't stick around long enough t' find out. I was out de door before she could offer me somet'ing t'…well, some'ting dat probably wasn't too far off weed."

Rogue scrunched her nose as if a strong, repulsive odour had invaded her sense of smell. The thought alone had been enough and she didn't want to know any more than that.

Before either of them could change the subject or go any further into the Hippy case,. Rogue felt a pair of hands grasp her shoulders, making her jerk with surprise. No sooner had it happened, a familiar maniacal chuckle came from behind. Turning in her seat, Rogue raised a brow at the chuckling, fair-haired Australian who continued to grin as he sat down beside her.

"Ello mates! How are we this morning?"

Rogue rolled her eyes but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

"Full of surprises apparently. Ah thought ah told ya not t' do that t' meh?"

John Allerdyce only continued to grin and gave no further reply. Rogue was left little time to scold him any further for another familiar figure spoke up.

"Don't ask what's got him so happy. You don't want to know."

Rogue and Remy grinned as Wanda Maximoff took a seat on Rogue's other side. Wanda ran a heavily ringed hand through her short-cut black hair, attempting to smooth it out as she yawned. Her startling blue eyes were framed by definite bags of sleepiness. However, instead of complaining or giving any sort of reason for her obvious lack of sleep or John's happy mood, she gave an inaudible hello by taking what was left of Rogue's coffee. She began to skull it down without thought of consequence- until her eyes suddenly widened in alarm. She took one glance at Rogue before spitting the contents of her mouth back into the mug in disgust. Then the yelling started.

"What the hell was in that?!"

The other three could only sniggered their amusement as Wanda continued to make gagging noises as the sugar overload overwhelmed her taste buds.

Hope you all enjoyed the minor changes here and there. REVIEW!