Disclaimer: I'm already sick, you want me depressed too?

A/N: So I've gotten a few ideas for a sequel to Ah Don't Like Ya!, so I thought I'd spin this out for a trial run.

You can thank: blackberryhuntress (I used your idea of course), DevilishBea-Anime-Couple-Lover, and Rogueslove22 (you didn't actually suggest a sequel, you just implied it, but same diff) for this one-shot.

Extra kudos to blackberryhuntress for inspiring the title.

"Hey, mate, check out the lovebirds."

Kurt looked over his shoulder lazily. There wasn't anything particularly exciting about the term, it was fairly common around the mansion and could apply to pretty much anybody. It was a house full of teenagers after all.

"Vhich vons?" he asked St. John.

"Your sis, an' moy best mate."

Now Kurt was interested. He sat up from where he'd been reclining against the couch while he and the Aussie played video games. Ever since the Acolytes had moved into the mansion with them, Johnny and Kurt had hit it off, and often could be found plotting pranks under the guise of video gaming.

"Ugh," John grunted playfully. "It's disgustin' it is."


"Them! Look at them! Completely chocolates for each other, an' they keep dancin' 'round tha issue that's been starin' 'em in tha face since that day at tha warehouses."

Correctly deciding that "chocolates for each other" was Johnny speak for "totally in love," Kurt grinned a feral grin that scared normal people. But… well. St. John wasn't normal.

"So, why exactly did you call me out here to the… greenhouse?" Bobby asked with raised eyebrows.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Look, Iceboy, ve're letting you in on this, so don't go getting all high and mighty about our meeting places. It's ze most secluded place in ze mansion since Storm's away, und nobody else needs to hear zis."

Bobby waved his hand expansively. "Alright, alright. Proceed."

"A bettin' pool," St. John piped up.

Intrigued, Bobby asked, "For what?"

"Rogue and Remy," Kurt filled in. "How long until zey get togezer."

Bobby chuckled. "You actually think that's gonna happen?"

"We know it's gonna happen, mate. They're definitely on tha kokobob train. (1)"

Bobby looked to Kurt for translation.

"He means zey like each ozer."

Bobby shrugged. "Cool. I'm in."

"Hehe, ya said cool."

Kurt shook his head at Johnny, saying to Bobby. "Ignore him. Ven he gets like zis, zere's no doing anyzing mit him."

They backed away slowly.

"Hey," Jubilee said casually as she sat next to Kurt at the dinner table. "Heard you've got a pool running."


"Lemme in?"

"Make your vager."

"End of July. Fifteen."

"Pleasure doing business mit you."


"Yo, dude. You, Blue, and the Pyro are running a pool right?"

Bobby turned to Ray with a deliberately bored expression. "Maybe."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Listen, if you just so happen to be running a pool- heaven forbid I suggest such a thing- but if you are, put me down for two weeks. Ten bucks."

Bobby nodded non-commitedly. "M'Kay."

The human battery slunk off, still cool as cool, but enjoying being part of the loop for once.

"Hey, Pyro."

"Pyro's moy workin' name, Sheila. Call me John."

"John. Okay, John, I like, heard through the gossip grapevine that you, Kurt, and Bobby like, totally have a betting pool set up over Remy and Rogue."


She blew out a frustrated breath. How could he be so insane one minute, then so calculated and businesslike the next?

"I wanna place a bet."


She giggled. "Yeah. A month, tops. Twenty dollars."

He nodded. ''Oi'll put it on tha books."

She skipped away.

Logan dropped a pair of tens into John's lap passing by him in the Rec Room.

"Sometime this year," he growled, turning away and hunching his shoulders.

"Clever," Johnny whispered. "If it 'appens this year, you'll win either way, mate. Good fer you."

Super sensitive hearing picked it up, and he got a grunt from the Wolverine.

"Hey… Pete?"

Bobby's voice trailed off uncertainly. He'd never really interacted much with the tall, quiet Russian. Seeing him here, in his room, was a little disconcerting. Everything suddenly seemed much smaller.

Piotr held out two twenties and a ten. Cautiously, Bobby reached for them.


"I vould like to place a bet," the unusually soft voice announced.

Bobby's face cleared. "Oh, uh, yeah. Of course. Sure. Um, what's your stake?"

The gentle giant smiled for the first time in Bobby's presence. "Tomorrow."

Startled, Bobby, jerked. "Uh, come again?"

"Tomorrow," Piotr repeated.

Giving him a quizzical look, Bobby obediently scribbled down his name and wager.

Kurt, may I ask what you think you're doing with this bet?

Umm, nozzing really, Professor .Just having some fun vile ve're vaiting for zem to vake up and smell ze coffee.


Well, put me down for fifteen on the end of the month. Jubilee usually has a good handle on these things, I'm betting with her.

Uhhh, sure, Prof. No problem.

Whoa, zis is veird. Logan, ze Professor… *chuckles* it's heating up.

"Hey, Blue! Put me and 'Mara down for five each on two weeks from Wednesday!"

He lifted a three-fingered hand in acknowledgment of the stake. Rogue passing by gave him a strange look.

"What are ya'll bettin' on now?"

"N-nozing!" he stuttered. He turned away, only to run into Remy.

"Hey, chere," he called to Rogue. "We still training t'day?"

Her face lit with a smile and she called out enthusiastically. "Sure thang, sugah. Be raght there!"

Kurt shook his head and 'ported. Sure. They were just friends. Pet names, private danger room sessions, and hadn't Rogue been receiving little gifts recently? Sure.

"Robert… Robert…"

Bobby startled awake.

"Uh, Mr. McCoy?"

The blue mutant looked embarrassed. "Uh, Yes. It's me."

"Uh, no offense, Doc, but what the heck are you doing in my room at…" he glanced at the clock. "Three in the morning?"

Beast ducked his head sheepishly. "Uh, well, I would, uh, I would like to place a wager in your pool."

Bobby sat up. "Oh, um, sure." He grabbed his notebook from the bedside table and reached for a pencil. "What's your bet?"

"The twenty-third of August, six thirty-seven pm, by the little alcove next to the stairs.

He raised an eyebrow. "So specific?'

"Yes, well. Ahem. I ah, I have it down to somewhat of a science I must confess. Guessing when couples will become public has become something of a hobby to me."

Bobby stifled a grin and dutifully wrote down Mr. McCoy's bet.

Piotr grinned knowingly at his Cajun friend as he nervously bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Remy, my comrade, if you don't stop moving around so much, you vill be out of breath and unable to make romantic statements to your Rogue."

The red-eyed man glared at him. "Haha, cute, Petey. Remy can't help it. He's neve' been nervous 'bout a fille befo', but dis is Roguey we're talkin' 'bout 'ere."

The Russian rolled his eyes. "Please. You know daht she likes you, you know daht you like her. Just tell her deh truth, she'll tell you, und I vill finally get a decent night's sleep vithout hafing to vorry about you sneaking out to vatch her dream."

Remy started. "Hey! Remy is no' a stalker!"

His friend gave him a tolerant look. Remy huffed.

Rogue checked her hair in the mirror for the thousandth time. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She'd never been concerned about the way she looked with Remy before. He'd seen her looking good, and he'd seen her a wreck. Heck, he'd seen her cry, the only person who ever did, and Lord knew, she definitely wasn't looking her best then.

She smoothed her hair again and took a deep breath. She would tell him today. She would not chicken out. Nope. Not her. Not the Rogue. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and turned her head to the side to study her profile. Frustratedly, she blew out a breath. Geez, it's jus' the Swamp Rat, Rogue. No reason to get excited, or go all teenage girl. Uh, news flash, Rogue, you kinda like, are a teenage girl.

No I'm not, she declared stubbornly to Kitty's psyche. I am Rogue. No fluttering, no nervous tension in my stomach, and definitely NOT fussy about the way I look for some stupid Swamp Rat.

She glanced in the mirror and pulled loose the ponytail.

They ran into each other in the hallway, each on their way to find the other. Both nervous about what they'd been planning to say, they immediately fell into their habitual snapping dialogue.

"Watch where ya're goin', Swamp Rat!"

"Learn how t' walk, fou fille!"

They stood there and glared at each other for a few minutes. Then Rogue imagined how they must look, fists on their hips, nose to nose, faces scrunched up in anger. She giggled at the childish image, and Remy, apparently getting the same thought, cracked a smile.

And then they were chuckling, their anger forgotten, their easy friendship and sometimes scarily like-minded-ness intact.

"So," Remy said, casually slinging an arm across her shoulders. "Where were y' runnin' off t' so quickly?"

Trying not to shiver at his touch, knowing from experience not to pull away- he'd only yank her back- thanking God he was wearing that trench coat as usual, she replied, "Lookin' for you."

Surprised, but pleased, he said, "Really? Remy was on his way t' find y'! Wanted t' talk t' y'."

She smirked. "Great minds think alike."

"So do petite ones, chere," he shot back.

They snickered.

"So, you wanted to talk?"

"Uh, oui. But so did y'. Ladies first."

"By all means then," she said sweetly.

He gave her a dirty look. "Cute, Cherie. Y' gonna pay f' dat," he threatened. She raised an eyebrow.


"Oui." That wicked grin was doing weird things to her breathing. Keep it together, Rogue!

So absorbed she was with her inner conversation, Rogue didn't notice Remy circling her until it was too late.

He pounced. Grabbing at her waist and spinning her in his arms, he dropped her into a dip and held her still with one arm while tickling her stomach with the other hand.

She shrieked.

"Remy! Remy, stop! Remy! Ah swear, Swamp Rat, if ya don' stop- so help me… AHHH!"

He let her go and she leaned on the wall, panting and glaring at him between giggles. He grinned in a self-satisfied way as she straightened and pointed a finger at him.

"Ah love ya."

He froze. Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. That had not been what she meant to say. Shoot! Ah wasn't supposed to tell him lahke that!

"Uhh, uh, Ah, uh-" she turned to run…

Remy darted forward and caught her arm, tugging her back into him, trapping her with a suddenly bare hand near her face. She wouldn't move with the possibility of absorbing him so near.

"Y' what?"

"Uhhh… nothin'?" She struggled. "Lemme go."

She felt him smirk- How is that? Does he smirk with his whole body or something? –and he shook his head. "Nuh-uh, y' ain't gettin' out o' it, dat easy. C'mon, what'd y' say?"

"Oh, shut up, ya know good and well what Ah said, Swamp Rat," she grumbled finally.

He chuckled, and spun her so that she was looking up into his suddenly serious red-on-black eyes. She couldn't hold his gaze.

He reached behind her head to tug gently on a piece of her hair with his bare fingers, bringing her head up.

"Chere… I love you too."


"Ya- ya do?" she stammered.

"O' course," he replied instantly, almost incredulously, as if he couldn't see why she would doubt.

Understanding his unspoken thought, she answered. "Ya can't touch me."

Understanding that she really thought that mattered to him, and determined to rectify that, he shot back a defiant "So?" and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss as sweet as it was purposeful.

He staggered back as she put a hand to her head and silently decided that yes, he was definitely in love with her, because no way would someone put themselves through that if they weren't totally serious.

"Professah? Can Ah say somethin'?"

"Certainly, Rogue. Everyone, please settle down, Rogue has an announcement to make."

They quieted and turned curious faces to the striped-haired Southern belle standing in her place next to Remy.

"Alraght, it may please some of ya to know, Remy an' Ah are officially togetha, an' your little bet is now officially ovah. Thank you all, an' goodnight, Remy an' Ah are goin' out."

With that shocking revelation, the Cajun stood up, grabbed his trench coat and his chere's hand, and swept out the door.

People were fish-mouthing all around the table. Bobby, Kurt, and St. John were gleefully preparing to collect their fifteen percent from running the betting pool, Logan gave a satisfied grunt, and went off to call Eric and tell him that the ten he'd had Logan place on the "sometime this year" bet had paid off, and Piotr glanced around the table with an expression no one had ever seen him wear before. The Russian looked almost… smug.

A/N: (1 I have no idea what this means. Ashy made it up. It's probably nonsense.

Okay, waaaaaaaaaay longer than I'd planned on it being, but hey, you write where the muses take you, and heaven help you if you stop before they're ready.

Indy enjoyed dis one. Logan is so funny when he's betting.

Indy, luv, tha only place you've seen Logan betting is in our fics. Oi'm sure he does it elsewhere, but how would you know that?

Stop. Callin'. Indy. Luv.