I'm back!

Wow, guys. It's been way too long. And for that, I am completely sorry. My only explanation is that the first semester of college has been killer. I was working and going to school. My days usually started around seven or eight in the morning and didn't end until ten if I was lucky (I was rarely lucky). When I finally had some free time, my stories and I felt like total strangers. It was hard to come back to something I hadn't touched in months.

But last night I was rereading some of my older stories and inspiration struck.

I'm back, baby.

I missed writing. For those of you waiting for updates on Girl Talk, don't worry, they're coming. I PROMISE you they are coming. But before I could go back to that, I had to do something fresh and new.

Which is how I came to write this.

And don't worry, the third installment of the Thigh High Boots series is still coming. So just work with me. The updates will be slow but I sincerely hope never this slow again. I don't wanna stray too far from my writing again.

I hope you enjoy it. I really do. I missed you guys like crazy.


Jean Grey and Kitty Pryde stared at the man before them, torn between amusement and pity.

"Help me," Remy whimpered, lifting his dark eyes to theirs. For once, there was no bravado in his demeanor. He had come to them, a man truly humbled and in desperate need of assistance. He knew no others he could turn to. So he came to the two of them, utterly defeated and absolutely oblivious.

"Please," he added, poking out his bottom lip.

The women glanced at each other. Not only was it a very rare occurrence to hear Remy LeBeau utter a "please" but it was absolutely impossible to resist the man's pout. Kitty had always had a sneaking suspicion he practiced it in the mirror.

Well, whatever he was doing, it was working.

Sympathetic, the X-Women nodded at their teammate.

"Okay," they said in unintentional unison.

Though he still looked absolutely lost, his expression brightened ever so slightly. The tiniest of smiles tugged at his lips.


"Really," Kitty assured, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Which is how Jean Grey and Kitty Pryde came to help Remy LeBeau with his task of admitting his undying affection for Rogue.


"Have you tried writing a poem?" Jean asked.

Remy scoffed. "Remy ain't really one for poetry and pretty words."

"Well, it's not like you have a whole lot of options right now, Mr. I-Look-Into-Her-Eyes-And-All-Coherent-Thought-Goes-Bye-Bye," Kitty pointed out.

Remy screwed up his face at the thought. "But…"

Jean thrust a pen and paper at him.

"No buts. Start rhyming, mister."

Remy looked at the pen in his hand as if he had never encountered such an object in all of his twenty-two years. Bewilderment quickly turned into disgust. Poetry.


He was Remy LeBeau. He simply did not do poetry. He was so beyond poetry, in fact, he considered blowing up the pen and paper as an act of complete defiance. Poetry.

As if.

He looked back at Jean and Kitty, the women who came to him with such a suggestion. He wondered how they were able to think of such a ludicrous idea. He briefly contemplated telling them that he could come up with something much more brilliant than "roses are red, violets are blue."

But then remembered that…oh yeah. The reason he had come to them in the first place was because he had no other ideas.

Remy's shoulder slumped in defeat as he sank down in the chair in Kitty and Rogue's shared bedroom. Pouting like a child that had been told "no" to a candy bar, Remy pressed the pen to paper and began to write.

Jean and Kitty watched in silence.

After ten minutes filled with scribbling and swearing, Remy handed over his paper to the two women. He watched wordlessly as they read over the poem he labored over.

Roses are red

Just like my eyes

You punch so hard, it could make a grown man cry

Remy thinks that's totally hot

In fact, Remy thinks you're totally hot

The way you yell and how you're mean

He also like that you're eyes are green

No other color would be right

So green and really bright

Not blue or grey or orange

Nothing rhymes with orange

The women lowered the paper, looking at the Cajun who gnawed on his lip anxiously.

This, they realized, would be harder than they thought.


"The problem is that when you see Rogue, you have trouble finding the words you need to tell her how you feel, right?" Jean asked.


"So maybe the trick is to like, think of the words ahead of time," Kitty added.

Remy lifted an eyebrow. "How?"

"Maybe you could, like, write it down."

"Right," Remy grumbled, rolling his eyes. "'Cause the last time I tried writin' turned out so well…."

"We're not talking poetry here, Remy. Just words." Jean smiled at him. "You know you're good at words."


"So why not just plan them ahead of time?"

"So…Remy should write it down?"

"Yes," the women said at the same time.

"And memorize it like a script or somethin'?"

"If you want."

He looked skeptical.

"Look, why don't you just talk and I'll write down what you say," the red head offered.

Kitty nodded in agreement. "It might be easier for you just to speak from your heart and we'll do the writing."

Still looking unsure, Remy nodded slowly. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He thought of Rogue. Her flashing green eyes. He full lips. Her two-toned hair. The rare but radiant smile she sometimes bestowed upon him. Her southern drawl, which sounded like the sweetest of honey poured over gravel.

It was enough to get him speaking.

"Rogue… Remy never thought of him as the whole 'lovin'' type. But somethin' 'bout you changes that. Somethin' 'bout you changes lots of things for Remy. But the changes…they're good ones. Before I moved in here wit' you and the X-Men, I was pretty content wit' my life. Then I kidnapped you and things started changin' for me. Honestly, they started changin' durin' that little trip. It might have been when you almost threw me out that train and I saw jus' how strong and determined you were. Or maybe when I watched you man handle the Rippers wit' the kinda athletic grace that Remy couldn' help but admire. I don' really know. All I know is I started feelin' somethin'…more."

Jean wrote hastily, trying to keep up with his spoken word. But she and Kitty paused to share a smile at the progress they were making.

"Now, all I find myself doin' lately is lyin' awake thinkin' of you. Thinkin' of the way you smile and stomp through the house. Thinkin' 'bout how I wish you would let me in more 'cause Remy promises to take care of you. Thinkin' 'bout how I wish I could jus' hold your hand."

He sighed.

"I don' even care that you can't touch. I really don't. It don' matter jus' so long as I can call you mine." Remy smiled a little. "Don' get me wrong though: Touchin' you would be amazin'. The first thing I would do was pull off them gloves of yours and hold your hand in mine. That's all I want."

Kitty fought the urge to squeal with adoration. Jean blinked back tears.

"And then," Remy continue, "after I had held your hand for a few more minutes, I would grab you and then I would throw you on my bed. You don' know how many nights I spend stayin' up jus' imaginin' all sorts of things I would do to you if I could get my hands on you. Usually, it's all pretty white bread. But every now and then, somethin' wit' handcuffs and safety words pop up. I was thinkin' we could take the handcuffs and this cherry flavored—"




My love for you is like a highway

I never wanna get off this highway

Our love highway has no off ramp

It goes on forever

But on occasion, I will slow down

For the construction of everlasting love

And I will pay the tolls

For a strong relationship

And you are like the gas to my motorcycle

You fuel me on this highway of love

Without you, I would never be able to travel on the highway of love.

So won't you please be my gas, Rogue?


"New idea."

Remy just looked up at the women, defeat and sadness in his normally dancing eyes.

"What I'm going to do," Jean explained, "is slip into your mind. I'm going to temporarily and telepathically calm down your anxiousness in regards to confessing your love to Rogue. I'm also going to project myself into your brain as Rogue. You'll think I'm her. You can practice telling her you love her through me, that way, when you have to do the real thing, it won't be so hard."

Remy shrugged; he was willing to try anything at this point.

Jean knelt down in front of him, placing her hands on either side of his face. She closed her eyes and Remy followed suit.

"I want you to relax."

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. His whole body slackened as he relaxed.

Kitty watched from the bed as the two fell into a deep breathing rhythm. It almost looked as if they had fallen asleep, they were so peaceful. Whatever Jean was doing in his head, it at least made Remy calm down. He had been tense since the moment he approached them but now he finally looked more like himself, totally at ease.

After several silent minutes, Jean dropped her hands from Remy's face, opening her eyes. She smiled a little at the serene looking Cajun.

"Okay," she said softly. "When you see me, you'll see Rogue. When you open your eyes, you'll no longer be afraid or confused. Totally calm, okay?"

He nodded once. "Oui."

"So when you see me, think that I am Rogue. Think of the things you've been holding back when you see her and act on those impulses."

From where Kitty was sitting, it was sort of like watching a disaster happen in slow motion.

Something about Jean's phrasing had the prep lifting an eyebrow. Kitty thought she could have used a better choice of words but didn't stress over the phrasing too much.

That was, until, Remy LeBeau opened his eyes.

Even from where she was sitting, she could see the fiery lust brewing in his blood red eyes. Kitty sprang to her feet, hoping to intercept.

But it was too late.

Which is how Jean Grey, Kitty Pryde, and Remy LeBeau agreed to never mention what almost happened when, in his lustful daze, he threw the telepath on Rogue's vacant bed.

It was also how Jean Grey found out why Remy sometimes referred to himself as "the Cajun beast."

She decided the name was quite fitting.


My love for you is like a flower

It wants to grow

But it needs water

Without water, it will not grow

It will die

Water me, Rogue or I will die


Remy just stared at Kitty.

Really. The look he was giving her was downright insulting.

"No," was all Remy said, his tone definitive.

Kitty huffily crossed her arms in front of her. "Well excuse me, but it's not like you're thinking of anything better."

"I'm pretty sure I could think of somethin' better than slammin' a door in her face and confessin' my love from the other side of it."

"You were the one who said you couldn't think when you look at her!" Kitty reminded him, pointing an accusing finger. "If you do the door thing you wouldn't, like, have to look at her or anything."


She threw her hands up in exasperation.


My love for you burns like the sun

Bright and orange

Shining for all to see

Beautiful and….



"I got it!"

Jean and Kitty snapped to attention and Remy's sudden proclamation.

"Got what?" Jean wanted to know.

"I know what I'm gonna say to Rogue," Remy declared proudly.

The women exchanged a glance before returning their attention to the desperate Cajun.


Remy lifted his chin, a cocky smile curving his lips. "When winter comes in summer…when there's no more forever…when lies become the truth…that's when I'll stop lovin' you."

He watched with smug male satisfaction as Jean all but melted into a puddle of estrogen. His smugness faded slightly when Kitty didn't not react similarly. Instead of looking like he was a romantic genius who could not only woo Rogue, but any woman's heart, she had her face scrunched up as if she were thinking about something.

Whatever. He knew brilliance when he spoke it.

"Remy…" Jean breathed, her hand over her heart, "that was…amazing."

"Oui, I know."

"Rogue will love it."

He beamed.

"WAIT!" Kitty yelled suddenly. "I know that!"

"Know what?" Jean asked.

"Those words. They're from an Nsync song." Kitty gave Remy an accusing look. "You stole that from Nsync!"

Remy started to protest this, but stopped before the words could leave his mouth. He thought back over the words he had just recited.

And then he remembered.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. "Opps."

Silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before Jean broke it. She gave Remy a curios look.

"You listen to Nsync?"


"Rogue…I've been wit' a lotta girls. Lots of them. Sometimes, I lose count. I'm pretty sure I've encountered every type of girl out there. Blonde, brunette, red head, tall, short—"

"Oh my god."

"Just stop."

"Please, don't say that."


"You know, Kitty-Kat, you're whole 'sayin' it to her on the other side of a door' idea is startin' to look pretty temptin' right about now."


Rose are red

Your eyes are green

Your breath always smells great

Do you use Listerine?


Rogue was having an odd day.

On a normal day at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, at some point, someone pestered her. Normally, it was Remy, who was constantly flirting and teasing her. If it wasn't Remy, then it was Kitty, trying to drag her to the mall or convince her to let try a makeover.

But both of her pests had been missing for awhile now and she was starting to get bored.

So Rogue went out searching for Kitty. She hoped along the way, she found Remy. She honestly wanted to find him more than anyone else, but she had no desire to stoke his ego enough to actively seek out his company.

But if she just so happened to bump into him?

Well that wasn't so bad.

During her search, she bumped into Scott, who inquired if she knew Jean's whereabouts. She didn't, but Rogue found it very peculiar that three of the most annoying people in the mansion had all disappeared at once.

The southern wandered the halls in search of any one of the three until she ended up at her room. She poked her head inside.

And there they were. Every single one of them.

When she opened the door, all three heads turned toward her. For reasons unknown to her, Kitty and Jean looked as if they had been caught doing something they should not have been doing. But Rogue dimly noticed them; her eyes locked on Remy.

The Cajun had been hunched over a desk, scribbling on some paper like mad. At his feet were balled up, disposed of pieces of paper. He was grumbling angry to himself, his frustration radiating off of him.

And when she walked in the door, his head snapped around and his blazing eyes met hers.

And then, Rogue did something she had never done before in her nineteen years:

She squealed.

"Epp," she squealed, aware that whatever was brewing in Remy's eyes was meant for her and it may or may not be a bad thing. It was most certainly powerful.

"Eppin' will do you no good," he snarled, jumping to his feet. The chair he had been sitting in tumbled backward.

Rogue stood frozen as he stormed past Jean and Kitty and right up to her. She briefly saw the intense look in his blood red eyes before his hands were on her face. He tilted her chin back and crushed his mouth to hers.

She briefly considered fighting him. First because he had no right to just come up to her and kiss her like he was. Secondly, because, in case he forgot, poison skin.

But then his lips moved against hers, and she realized that his roughness was not aggression or possession; it was desperation. It was a plea for her to feel…something. She couldn't quite tell what that something was but was more than willing to continue kissing him so she could find out.

But her powers began to make their presence known. She started to drain Remy, a process that normally felt like she was taking. Stealing. But this time, it felt like Remy was trying to give. Trying to give her…something. As much of that something as he could before he passed out.

Which was only a few seconds later.

Rogue watch, dumbfounded, as her fellow southerner dropped to the floor in an unconscious but sexy heap. Lips feeling swollen, bruised, but satisfied, she shifted her gaze to Jean and Kitty.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice cracking a little.

They looked at each other.


Before Rogue could get a proper answer from them, Remy's thoughts and memories flooded her mind.

She saw flashes of Jean and Kitty. Letters. Words. Poems? Remy LeBeau was writing poetry? She heard song lyrics that sounded suspiciously of the boy band persuasion. Something about the highway of…love? Oranges? And if she wasn't mistaken, he considered slamming a door in her face. More really bad poetry and letter that was borderline pornographic.

But amidst the whirlwind of baffling memories and thoughts, Rogue felt a swell of emotion. Something so unexpected and profound, she felt like she might drown in it. Something that belonged to Remy that he wanted her to know.

She suppressed her urge to gasp, instead pressing her fingers to her kiss swollen lips.

"He loves me," she whispered, shocked.

Kitty and Jean looked at each other for a moment before shrugging.

"That works too, I guess," the prep said, satisfied with a job well done.