Remy lounged in his seat, legs spread wide in what could be, Hank thought, an invitation in certain circumstances. The Cajun shuffled the deck with ease of long practice, giving the smooth sound of the cards layering themselves at his command a certain sensuality that one normally didn't associate with poker.
Fast and fluid he moved, elegant long-fingered hands gliding with an almost inhuman grace as he worked his magic, playing to the crowd in every way. Turning shuffling the deck into the main attraction as the crimson-backed cards flew through the air with a will that seemed all their own.
The boys, Hank noticed weren't necessarily only boys, three young ladies were mixed in the crowd, two were actually there for the game but the third was obviously more interested in watching Remy than she was in the cards he was shuffling. They were all swarming around the table chattering excitedly as they watched the Cajun with knowing grins.
Hank recognized a few of them, James Blackwall and Steven Dunn were from the Biology class he taught Monday and Wednesday, he'd caught them playing poker instead of paying attention to the fascinating details of human physiology last Monday. And Carrie Tyler, the girl salivating over the dealer, was his lab assistant on Thursdays. The revelation that it was Gambit corrupting his students didn't surprise him in the least.
James nudged a boy Hank didn't recognize with lively over enthusiasm that nearly sent the poor child to the floor, "Dan watch him! He's going to slip a few under the table!"
Dan rubbed his shoulder with an irate sigh and took a drink of his Pina Colada wine cooler, non-alcoholic of course, "He won't do it if he knows you're watching for it you idiot!"
They were all so enthralled with scrutinizing the lithe redhead for some obvious slip up that they didn't notice when Hank and Bobby slipped into the two empty chairs at the table. Only a couple actually looked up to see them when they heard the chairs screech as they were pulled away from the table, but even though they all didn't seem to be paying any attention to them, apparently they were all distracted to some extent, because that was when Gambit chose to make his move.
Hank was the only one to notice Remy slipping two cards into his sleeve in such an effortless, understated way that he would have missed it if he hadn't been eyeing the intricate black knot work on the sleeve of the Cajun's red silk shirt. Glancing up, red on black eyes met his for a few seconds, a slow smirk crept across the other man's face. Not a trace of anything showed in his expression to acknowledge he'd just made an illegal move, just a smirk that dared him to say anything.
Shaking his head, Beast smiled back letting his acceptance of the challenge show, his lips parted just enough to display the fangs that he'd been gifted with from his mutation. They weren't good for anything other than an intimidating display, and they made brushing his teeth and flossing an absolute torment, "Mr. LeBeau, I do believe those cards you relocated up your sleeve are much better suited to joining their colleagues in the deck. Don't you?"
The boys erupted in cries of "He got you Remy!" and "Not so slick after all are you mister?" as well as a few "I seen it I just was waiting to see if you saw it!" Carrie just gave a heart-felt sigh and batted her eyelashes at Remy.
Bobby slapped him on the back, "You already got him Hank, and I played him _months_ before I ever noticed him doing anything."
Remy chuckled and straightened up in mock-offense, "Y'wouldn' be callin' Remy a cheater now would y'Hank?" He held out the arm that held the hidden cards to him, "G'wan and check den, wouldn' wan' my good name ruined."
Hank raised a shaggy brow but before he could reach out to check, Remy deftly undid the button on his cuff, and shook his hand…nothing fell out. James reached over and patted his arm down for cards that weren't there anymore. "He's clean." James sounded singularly depressed about this fact.
Remy grinned widely, "Now who de liar, homme?"
"You are. But we play with you anyway for some reason." Bobby was grinning, eyes dancing a little with good humor.
Hank watched in uneasy fascination as Remy seemed to brighten subtly under Bobby's attention.
"Remy like to b'played wit'." The dirty smirk was enough to send Bobby's color shooting for crimson in seconds and the brunette scowled, "I didn't mean it like _That_. Geez there's kids around."
Steven, James' poker accomplice in Hank's biology class, shrugged from Bobby's other side gracing them with a particularly unconcerned glance, "Ignore it, he just does it to distract you." Steven seemed to embody the very soul of zen at least he did until he opened his mouth again to shout in a particularly annoyed voice, "Deal already buttmunch!"
Remy gave a delicate sniff, "Real classy way t'put it Stevie. Jus' for dat y'not be winnin' t'night."
Steven gathered up his cards as they were dealt with a martyr's air, "I'm a precog, I know I'm not going to win, you cheating swamprat."
The redhead chuckled, "Den why y'play?"
Voice dripping with sarcastic wit, "The company. Can't you tell?" Hank suddenly remembered why Steven was one of his favorite students as Remy slumped back in his seat clutching his cards to his heart in apparent agony, "Stevie y'such a mean boy, if I weren' so wrapped up in beatin' de pants off y' I'd turn y'over my knee."
"Turn me over your knee old man and my parents will slap you with a sexual abuse lawsuit so fast your head will spin." Stevie grinned, "I don't need precog to know that. Now _Play_. I want to hurry up and lose so I can go watch Will and Grace."
Bobby shook his head, "Will and Grace comes on Thursday."
"De sad lil boy tapes it!" Remy grinned, "Why y'wan' t'watch dat crap for anyway?"
Hank grinned at Bobby and Steven's identical expressions of dismay. Carrie even looked miffed, "You didn't just diss _Will and Grace_ did you?"
Remy blinked, "Didn' know I was gon' be lynched for it."
"I find it amazing how simple it is to be persecuted over complete and utter drivel. At least some of us have taste at this table." He winked at Remy and grinned when Remy winked back.
Bobby turned his outraged eyes on him, beginning to pout, "Hank…Will and Grace is…is the _best_ show on tv, there's never been a better show except maybe Batman and Robin on TV land!"
"Batman and Robin? That's it, you're not allowed to even _speak_ about Will and Grace!" Steven glared at Bobby.
"Sadly enough…compared to Batman and Robin, Will and Grace is a veritable masterpiece of wit."
Remy put it in layman's terms, "Bobby…dat show s'jus' horrible, a dumb animal wouldn' watch it! Hell _Becca_ won' watch it!"
That of course attracted the wrath of Becca who looked up from her cards with a singularly venomous glare, anger making her gills flare, "Ya goin down for dat boy. All ya'll shup and let me whip his lily white ass fo ya."
Everyone seemed to quiet and Bobby folded out of the game, leaning over to explain, "She's been the only one able to beat him since we started. Um…" Bobby quieted for a moment, "Hank…you might want to fold."
Hank glared at him and pointedly leaned away from him so he couldn't see his cards. At least that was one reason why he leaned away…the more significant reason was because feeling Bobby's breath stirring his fur wasn't conducive to playing anything remotely suited for the eyes of children.
"I fold." Those were two words that Bobby was becoming intimately familiar with. They were the _only_ thing he was becoming intimate with. Not to imply he wanted to become intimate with Hank other than in a friends-watching-bad-movies-together sort of way. He was just going to conveniently forget he'd cleaned his room for the man.
He'd thought when he'd mentioned Remy's invitation that they'd play a few hands then head back to his room for movies. But no. Of course not. Because this was his life and nothing ever went like he wanted it too and plus there was a Cajun thrown in the mix which doubly meant nothing was going to go like he wanted it to.
Hank had taken losing the first four hands in a row as a personal insult to his intelligence, which had turned what was supposed to be an hour of cards and socializing into seven hours. It was three in the morning now. Remy's students in the ways of cheating had long since been sent off to bed, they had curfew at eleven.
Once the minors had left, the non-alcoholic wine coolers had turned into Jack Daniels and beer chasers. Well for Hank and Remy that was.
Bobby was sticking to just plain old number nine Miller Light thank you very much. He didn't even want to know what his subconscious might decide to spill to the two mutants across from him with a little liquor persuasion.
The last time he'd gotten drunk he'd been with Logan at some terrifying little bar that might tacitly be called a country and western place, full of men that made him want to rent Deliverance just to see if the movie could even compare. The fact that he'd been able to notice this while he was crying into his whiskey about being dumped said a lot for how scary the bar was.
Waking up the next morning in the floor next to his toilet had taught him two very important lessons. One, Logan wouldn't know what sympathy was if it bit him in the ass.
And the other lesson, the most _important_ lesson of all was: Never go drinking with Logan and let him pick the place. He'd been humming Conway Twitty songs for _weeks_.
The other thing he'd been hearing about for weeks was what everyone thought about his crush on Pamela Anderson…apparently he'd told Logan he'd decided to name her boobs Tinky and Winky one night when he was really bored. Which reminded him, lesson number _three_, Logan didn't feel the need to keep things his drinking buddies told him secret.
The midget asshole.
He watched with mild fascination as Remy and Hank showed their hands. Hank's eyes lit up when he won, making him shine. "I believe you now owe me four twinkies and another shot Remy." Hank sat back with a smug smile.
Remy sighed heavily and downed another shot of whiskey before pushing the treats across the table to Hanks winnings pile, which currently was made up of three other twinkies and a bag of M&M's.
Bobby pilfered the M&M's, watching Remy for a moment. The Cajun was beginning to look snookered, and if _Remy_ was drunk then Hank definitely was.
Bobby glanced at his friend, yep definitely drunk, maybe if he were lucky Hank'd start singing the periodic table song and give him something to use as blackmail the next day.
"I don't believe…that anyone has mentioned why we play for twinkies?" Hank tapped the twinkies in question making the cellophane rattle.
Remy looked up as he dealt the next hand with a positively wicked grin, eyes twinkling at him, "'Cause Bobby like de crème fillin'. Bobby like crème fillin' lots don' y'Bobby? "
He could feel his face go red because he knew very well that Remy wasn't talking about twinkie filling. Not with the velvety purr in his already sexy voice. Only Remy could make him feel dirty for liking twinkies. But he was jarred out of the embarrassment by one little fact…the fact that there was someone's foot on his leg.
Hank just chuckled, and the scary thing was…it was a wicked chuckle. A chuckle like he got what Remy was really saying. "Ah, you must not have witnessed him eating one then. He likes to suck the filling out before he devours the rest of it. You could say…like is too weak of a word for his love affair with twinkies."
The foot was sliding slowly up, making it's way to his knee and Bobby groaned and buried his face in his hands before he spontaneously combusted.
They were drunk and talking dirty and he wasn't sure but he thought it was Hank that was playing footsie with him. After all Hank was the one with his hand down the back of his pants that morning. But Hank wasn't really a footsie kind of guy…he was classier than that. So it could be Remy…. But Remy didn't like him like that so….
Bobby was just confused. And he didn't think he should be enjoying this. But he was. A lot.
Remy laughed, and it was a laugh Bobby had never heard before. One full of _things_. Of promises. Promises that made him shiver even if he wasn't like _that_.
And he wasn't…just because he was enjoying someone's foot sliding back down his leg to wiggle under the cuff of his jeans, and any second now he'd know who it was. Because if it were Hank he'd feel fur against his ankle….
"Bobby. Bobby look at Remy." The Cajun's voice was just the right mix of mischief and temptation that he couldn't help but tentatively peek over his hands, voice suspicious though a little strangled because _someone_ was playing _footsie_ with him! And he wanted to know who it was and not get distracted with talking, "What?"
He got smacked in the face with a twinkie for his trouble, "G'wan and 'ave a twinkie on me. Much tastier den dem M&M's y'got."
Glancing down at the twinkie lying innocently in front of him now he could feel those devil eyes on him, daring him to eat it. Hank was watching him too…and he was never going to be able to eat a twinkie again without thinking of this moment that was beginning to feel like a mix of gay porn and the twilight zone.
Someone's foot made it over his sock and he could feel bare toes rubbing against his skin sensuously. But they weren't Hank's toes. No fur. And it was still turning him on.
He looked up sharply and met Remy's eyes. God. Remy was playing footsie with him under the table. Remy was flirting with him. _Remy_ was a man. Remy liked him.
He didn't know what scared him the most.
And he was getting really good at realizing the obvious, now if only he could translate what he knew over to something easy to understand. Like…Remy was doing this because of…twinkie poisoning or something. Temporary insanity by twinkie!
Shifting uncomfortably he pushed the twinkie away with a finger like it was poisoned, "I think I'll stick to M&M's…thanks." He glared at Remy, and forced himself to pull his leg away from Remy's foot. "Um…cards? You need to pick up your cards to play. You know poker. The game we were playing?" He grinned weakly and hid behind his cards.
They both erupted in laughter and the sudden tension that had filled the room evaporated as they all picked up their cards. Remy didn't look the least bit upset at having his foot rejected.
Bobby stayed silent, happy to lose, and give Remy confused little glances every five seconds. At least he was until he glanced up just in time to see Remy tucking a card into his shirtsleeve. It was so obvious that it couldn't be anything other than the fact Remy was drunk that Bobby had been able to see it, the Cajun was usually too damn smooth.
"You're cheating Remy, you've got a card up your sleeve!" Bobby grinned, confusion temporarily forgotten as he enjoyed the warm buzz of victory and Miller Light.
Remy gave him a pained look, "All y't'ink Remy always got a card up 'is sleeve."
"That may perhaps be because we continuously seem to observe you hoarding them there Remy." Hank grinned toothily, "Hold out your arm and allow Bobby to check."
Remy sighed heavily and offered his wrist, waiting silently as Bobby slid shaky fingers under the cuff feeling for the cards which of course weren't there. What _was_ there was skin…lots of hot smooth skin with a light dusting of hair. He could feel the Cajun's pulse beating against his fingers and for a moment he wanted to lick it. Taste it.
Shaking himself he gave his beer bottle a betrayed look, if he was _thinking_ these things drinking beer he'd be _doing_ them if he were drinking whiskey. He was _never_ going to touch alcohol again.
"Y' jus' wantin' t'get in my shirt Bobby."
Only Remy could make you feel dirty for touching his wrist…well actually he felt dirty because Remy was so damn right. His face felt like it was on fire but his pride refused to let him pull his hand away any faster than was normal.
"You've obviously secreted them somewhere else about your person." There was a grin in Hank's voice…and something else. Something Bobby didn't think he'd heard before.
Remy laughed and stood, holding his arms out in invitation, "Y'wan' t'strip search me Hank? Remy don' mind, he know he irresistible."
Remy was standing there, an open invitation to something hot and wet that Bobby just didn't want to want. And Hank's eyes moved between the two of them with a quiet intensity before landing squarely on Bobby, burning through them with more things Bobby didn't want to want.
It was all too much for him and he bolted from the table with a whimper leaving Hank and Remy staring after him as he went in search of someplace to hide
Hank looked at Remy and Remy gazed back as they shared a moment of perfect understanding while Remy dealt another hand.
"Y' t'ink my foot on 'is leg was t'much Hank?"
The larger man shrugged and took another shot of Jack Daniels, "We should find him." His calm demeanor was betrayed for a façade only by his claws tapping impatiently at the bottle.
Remy nodded and picked up his cards, "Give 'im awhile t'think."
There was silence for a few moments while Hank lost and another hand was dealt.
"You like him too?" Hank was carefully studying his hand, shifting cards here and there into likely pairs before mixing them all up again, he looked up in time to see the slow nod.
"Scott 'ad me pissed one night…an' Bobby found me drinkin'. Almost made me snort whiskey through my nose he 'ad me laughin' so hard." Remy looked at him, gaze an odd mix of humor and solemnity giving his words more meaning than was strictly there, the blatant sensuality he usually gave off still present but for the moment muted. He broke out into a grin and shook his head.
Hank nodded sagely, "He seems to enjoy freezing my undergarments. And coffee. And-." He paused because the list could go on forever, "Well just between us…it's rather endearing."
Remy chuckled and it was like a switch had been thrown. Whatever they had been sharing petered away and Remy was once again his usual self. As his lab assistant had once put it, walking sex. For Hank that meant untouchable.
"Den…may de best man win."
The Cajun threw down his cards, and stood graceful as a cat, stretching in a way that showed off his body to perfection, "I t'ink de boy 'ad enough time t'brood."
He glanced down at the cards…four of a kind aces which of course beat out Hank's pair of twos.
A nice accent to the challenge Remy had laid down, but Hank wasn't going to let it bother him. After all, the human heart was a little harder to manipulate than an inert object…and Hank'd had years of friendship with Bobby that Remy just couldn't compete with.
With a smug little smile Hank rose and followed the Cajun at a sedate pace.
Warmth. Warmth and hard muscles enveloped in sleek silken fur beneath his cheek.
"Mrf?" Asking questions when your face was smashed into drool soaked fur didn't work very well. He wiped a bit at the drool, poor Hank. Arms were wrapped around him and he was lying on top of his friend. Cracking an eye open cautiously he peered up the expanse of broad blue chest at a peacefully sleeping face.
What the hell had- oh. Now he remembered the card game last night, but it still didn't explain how he'd ended up sleeping on top of Hank when he'd locked himself in his room the other night.
Bobby froze, face paling as he looked down, nope still clothed. He breathed a sigh of relief and shifted his gaze to see Gambit stretched out beside them, also fast asleep. Or faking it really well. Bobby didn't doubt that Remy would be damn good at faking sleep.
The Cajun was the perfect explanation for why his locked door hadn't done much good keeping them out.
He could freak out over this again and hide out on the roof. After all it wasn't every morning you woke up sleeping on top of your best (male) friend, and beside your other (definitely male) friend in bed after you'd locked them out because they were both kinda sorta hitting on you.
Kinda sorta hitting on you _and_ each other. At least it had seemed that way.
Which was why he'd been willing to forget the entire incident and chalk it all up to Jack Daniels because really…if you thought about it, it hadn't been like they were hitting specifically on _him_. It was just kind of anyone that'd been in the room.
There just hadn't been a whole lot of people in the room to hit on so it had _looked_ like it was just him. They probably would have hit on Xavier the pot-belly pig, the school mascot, if it'd been in the room. Lucky pig.
At least that'd been what he thought last night.
Waking up on top of Hank could even be explained away if he tried really hard. But there was no way in hell his theory was going to survive Remy yawning widely, stretching his sexy self farther out on Bobby's bed and _looking_ at him hair mussed, eyes barely opened, with a sleepy smile that made Remy look absolutely (kissable) adorable.
He was graced with the Cajun's gaze for all of five seconds before those red on black eyes slipped closed again. Remy obviously had decided more sleep was in order. On Bobby's bed. Nope that just shot his theory all to hell.
Suddenly he wanted to run to the roof as fast as mutantly possible but Hank's arms were around him and he felt warm. And comfortable. And…things he didn't want to feel. Not to mention sleepy.
He'd just…let his eyes slide closed like they wanted to…and cuddle up to all that silky soft fur…and trust Hank not to let anyone Cajun molest him while he slept. Because Hank was honorable like that…and Hank also knew that if he didn't his underwear would never thaw for the rest of eternity.