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-

Remy's been a lot of things, but he ain't never been a fool, and there's some things that can be changed, some things that ain't so easy, some things he's just got to accept.

And when it comes to Logan -- well.

Remy's resigned himself to being the one who does all the cleaning. Logan drops things wherever he pleases, usually where he's finished using them, and with Remy working only two days of the week he ends up being the one to walk around their house, picking up Logan's clothes and discarded beer bottles. He's also resigned to being the one who cooks dinner, as Logan is only capable of barbecuing -- and that, not very well.

And things aren't great, but they ain't bad either. Remy doesn't mind being Logan's distraction when the other man begins to dwell on his past, doesn't mind the way Logan wants to have sex in the kitchen (and on the couch, and on the floor, and on the back porch, and on the stairs). It doesn't bother Remy that he packs and unpacks all of their things, the dishes and books and the collection of jazz records Remy can't bring himself to throw out (and Logan pretends to hate). He doesn't mind that Logan can't seem to stay in once place, forcing them to move to a new town every few weeks.

After everything that's happened to him, Logan is sorely damaged, still full of rage and barely-repressed frustration. He gets moody and miserable, his jaw clenching and his movements jerky and rough, and rather than talk to him about it or some other equally useless  bullshit that would have Logan toss him up against a wall -- for a fight this time -- Remy's also resigned himself to dealing with mood swings as well. When things get to be too much, he considers it a fairly small detail that, ever since he first moved in, he has also become Logan's excuse to get into fights.

Even if it has been getting rather embarrassing lately.

It isn't even as Logan flips his shit at the slightest provocation. It's more that he manages to find the one person in town who's going to have a problem with them, and then Logan sees fit to teach them a lesson with his fists. He gets in their faces, practically baiting them. The last few towns they've lived in, Logan had been acting strangely, almost as if he'd been intentionally trying to start stupid meaningless fights.

Once, a long time ago, Remy had been dumb enough to fuck an overly enthusiastic gay activist - the enthusiasm had been appreciated in bed, but outside of the bedroom he'd prided himself on obnoxiously flaunting his relationship with Remy. David had been worse than obnoxious, actually, practically introducing Remy as "The man I like to fuck in the ass" and getting wildly offended at anyone who looked at them askance. Remy had gotten sick of it after a little while, he'd walked away from David without so much as a backwards glance.

Of course, he hasn't walked away from Logan, hasn't even thought about it, even though Logan is no less of an unapologetic asshole. Remy tells himself that it's because Logan's much better in bed, intense and almost blindingly good. The sex alone is worth putting up with Logan's wandering hands in public places, the way people start to look at them when they've been in town for a month, the way Logan inevitably gets into fight after fight with yet another group of homophobic rednecks before Remy packs their things and they move on.

He doesn't examine his motivations too closely, though, because he has a suspicion that it's not just the (unbelievable, heart-stoppingly amazing) sex that's preventing him from walking out and leaving Logan to his own devices.

And, perhaps, that's what he should do.

Remy ain't all too fond of public displays of affection, and Logan ain't much for it either, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that their relationship is the reason that Logan is getting into fights. It's a routine by now, that when it gets bad enough they pick up and move to another town and find another series of shitty jobs and run-down houses to live in. The only real difference between David, then, and Logan, now, is that when it comes down to a physical fight, Logan is more than happy to take his share of the beating, never hiding behind Remy.

Also, Logan teases him.

And makes him laugh, when they're just talking or hanging around.

And it helps that Logan understands what Remy's been through, doesn't talk about his past or his problems unless Remy brings it up. It helps, too, that Logan plays poker like shit and can't lie to save his life, he doesn't even try to, ninety percent of the time. Logan's smug and an asshole, casually affectionate in a way Remy almost doesn't understand. Logan never treats Remy like a girl, he treats him like a man --

And it's Remy's fault he's getting into fights. He thinks, sometimes, that Logan's just -- waiting for him to leave. Waiting for something that's never coming, because Remy ain't got anything else, really. He's got Logan and a collection of jazz records he never listens to, and while he sometimes thinks Logan would be better off without him, Remy's selfish enough to think Fuck That and stay.

Something about being practically invincible has been grating at Logan's nerves - or perhaps the latest bullet to connect with his skull caused more damage than Remy had realized. Whatever the case, they've been in Eureka for less than a month, but Remy can recognize the signs already, notices that Logan's jaw is tightening and his answers slowly tending more and more towards the monosyllabic.

Which is why Remy wants to just get it over with.

-

When he crawls out of bed, dragging on the first pair of clean jeans he sees, stumbling down the stairs bare-chested to make coffee in the kitchen, Remy doesn't notice anything different than usual.

And when he realizes that Logan's left his lunch behind, still wrapped in a brown paper bag (because Logan is almost depressingly old-fashioned), he checks the contents and then groans in frustration.

A fully grown man several times over, and Logan's lunch consists of a peanut butter sandwich and an apple. It's as if he doesn't even realize that he's a 350-pound man built solidly out of pure muscle and adamantium, instead of a four-year-old boy on his first day of school.

It's a Tuesday, and Remy doesn't have work or anything better to do, so he sighs and rummages through the fridge looking for something else. He's used to cooking for himself, and he knows how much Logan can eat, so he checks the time before quickly whipping up a couple of Po-Boys, wrapping them up and putting them in a cooler with a few cans of beer.

It's frighteningly domestic, bringing Logan a home-made lunch, but Remy is pretty certain that Logan will appreciate the food and won't mind the domesticity. Two towns ago, his friends had assumed Logan had a wife named Remy, until Remy's appearance had put an end to that. The idea was sound, as Remy was the one who did the cooking, cleaning, laundry, packing, unpacking, and yelled at Logan for staying out too late. Although, the last point was mostly because Logan would walk into the bedroom at 3 AM, drunk and frisky, and then he'd want to fuck Remy two or three times before he finally passed out. Remy liked the sex and didn't even mind being woken up for it, but if Logan wanted to spend the whole fucking day in bed he could have just said so in the first place.

He finds some still-edible potato salad and throws that in the cooler too, rummaging through Logan's pockets for the keys the two of them never manage to keep in one place. He pulls on a shirt almost as an afterthought, his head still sleep-muddled.

-

Driving out to Logan's work site isn't a huge deal, Remy usually drives whenever the other man doesn't carpool, but this is the first time Remy's made the trip there alone.

Climbing out of the truck, Remy winces inwardly when he realizes that the shirt he's wearing is one of Logan's. It had been clean, which is why he had put it on -- but he must look ridiculous, the sleeves a bit too long, shoulder seams falling halfway to his elbows. Logan's shirt is bright blue and flannel, the kind of shirt that looks amazing on Logan's broad-shouldered, appallingly muscular frame, and looks kind of ridiculous draped on someone as lean as Remy.

He could have done better, as far as first impressions go, than rolling out of bed and putting on one of Logan's shirts and then bringing him a homemade lunch. The chances of a bunch of construction workers in a fairly small town coming to the right conclusion about his and Logan's relationship is fairly high. But then again, if Logan is itching to get into a fight, Remy showing up at his workplace looking like Logan's much younger, male fuck toy is sure to give him the opportunity he wants to punch someone in the face.

"C'n I help you?" An unfamiliar voice asks, the man it belongs to strolling towards Rem with a curious expression and a clipboard. He's wearing a hard hat and work boots, but Remy hasn't met this one before which means he might be someone so new Logan hasn't even mentioned him to Remy. It also might mean that he's the Foreman or Chief.

"Yeah, is Logan around?" Remy asks, leaning back against the truck, hoping that Logan hasn't been running his idiot mouth too much while he's working. He really is not in the mood to deal with Logan's coworkers discovering that 'the little lady' was in fact a man, and not so little besides.

"Yeah," the man nodded. "He's helping out Johns, up on the roof," and then he gave Remy a frank, sort of friendly but still wary look. "Uh, we break for lunch in about five?"

"I'll wait," Remy says, shrugging as he grabs the cooler from the truck's seat.

Right then, a group of men all come around the corner of the half-constructed building, Logan near the back. They're laughing and joking, comfortable -- Logan stops short when he sees Remy, surprise written all over his face. He only pauses for a moment before he starts walking again, a few of the men turning to look at when he walks right by them and up to Remy, standing with his shoulder to the truck.

"You forgot your half-assed lunch," Remy says, doing his best to ignore the men around them, most of whom aren't even pretending not to be listening in. "I brought you a better one."

Logan leans in close, then, taking the cooler from Remy with one hand. He ghosts his other hand over the blue shirt, his lips quirking upward  in a wry smirk. "Nice shirt, Gambit," he murmurs, voice pitched low enough that Remy's the only one who hears it.

He will never forgive himself for blushing, but Logan's hand stills on his chest, the warmth seeping through the fabric -- and this is exactly the sort of thing that Logan has been doing lately, the other construction workers falling silent and starting at Logan and Remy in undisguised curiosity.

Trying to force the blush away from his cheeks, Remy rolls his eyes and says "I brought you beer, too," and Logan's smirk transforms into an all-out grin.

-

Logan eats his lunch sitting in the truck bed with Remy, their legs dangling over the edge. He eats both of the sandwiches Remy made for him, and half of the potato salad too, finally sitting back with a few cookies and a beer, belching appreciatively.

The others are nearby, sitting on whatever seems convenient, trying to be surreptitious in the way they give Logan space. Showing up with a case of beer doesn't make Remy popular, but it sure does make them act friendlier, which is something he makes a note of for later.

Usually, the guys Logan works with end up coming to insanely stupid conclusions after they meet Remy, assuming he's the kind of cock-hungry slut who'd seduced Logan with a combination of black magic and silk ties -- as if with Remy out of the picture, Logan would suddenly stop liking men. Although, Logan might -- Remy's fairly certain that the other man had been exclusively sleeping with women, before. However, Remy's seduction of Logan had been more along the lines of a quick grin and a drawled "So, you wanna?" than anything they come up with, and Logan had barely even hesitated.

Now, though, the guys watching them seem only sightly curious or surprised, not offended or angry. That  by itself is kind of weird, but Logan is sitting next to Remy, their sides almost touching, and he's -- not pushing it.

After months of Logan sliding his hands over Remy's thighs when they're in public, Logan's fingers stroking of Remy's hips at every opportunity, almost a year of Logan's lips brushing against Remy's earlobe as he leans in to whisper intimately that Remy needs to take out the garbage, it's foreign enough to be eerie. Logan still leans in close, bumps Remy's shoulder with his own, and drops tender little touches onto his wrist, though -- it's obvious that they're together, the other men aren't going to miss that much. But it's almost like Logan is trying to be -- something like subtle.

Logan's version of subtle is comparable to a sledgehammer, but still, it's strange.

Perhaps he's just reading too much into it. Logan's lunch break is almost over, so Remy hops out of the truck bed, standing up and turning to say goodbye.

"I'll see you at home," Logan says, finishing his cookies. He leans forward, shifting a bit towards Remy as he drops a chaste, almost hesitant kiss on the corner of Remy's mouth.

The men around them don't react in surprise, although Remy can hear it get just a little bit quieter. He spies one of them in his peripheral vision; the man looks embarrassed, averting his gaze. He doesn't look disgusted or revolted, only as if he's trying to give the two of them some privacy.

And then Remy finally gets a clue, epiphany striking him like a bolt of lightning or a brick to his chest, it feels as if the ground has been jerked out from underneath him.

He can't believe he didn't realize it before, but then again he and Logan are both men, and inherently incapable of talking about their feelings. In that regard, misunderstandings are a foregone conclusion. It isn't surprising that Remy had assumed Logan was restless and looking for a fight, moving them around the country and flaunting Remy beside him because he knew it would cause problems.

That hadn't been the point at all, though, and it hits Remy deep in his gut. Logan had been looking for a place to settle down, somewhere people wouldn't treat them like shit or try and run them off. Looking for a run-down house to fix up, to put up the picket fence and paint it white, and how had Remy missed noticing that between the two of them it was Logan who was the teen-aged girl in their sadly dysfunctional relationship?

Well, then.

Remy leans in and kisses Logan properly, nipping gently at his lips, teasing Logan into the kind of slow, wet kiss that he likes best. Logan's hands slide up Remy's sides, settling at his waist, and Remy moves in a little closer. Tangling his fingers into Logan's always-messy hair, sucking Logan's tongue, Remy sighs into his mouth, letting the kiss evolve, grow hotter and wetter and kind of slutty.

He's half in Logan's lap, not-quite straddling him, when Remy belatedly remembers that they aren't alone. Or in private. Logan's face is flushed when he pulls back, the other man's eyes dark and his lips just the faintest, tiniest bit kiss-swollen. It's a good look for him.

"Uh," Logan says, a surprised sort of half-smile on his face.

Remy can feel himself about to make a bad decision. He really ought to stop himself from doing something stupid, and yet it seems like a really, really good idea regardless of the circumstances. "Logan," he says, "I have to talk to you about something very important," and he grabs him by the shirt collar, twisting the fabric as he yanks Logan forward onto his feet.

Logan looks a little surprised, but he doesn't make even a token protest.

Remy drags him away from the truck, away from the wide-eyed construction workers who have probably never seen two men kissing before in their lives, until finally they're hidden away from view, behind the unfinished building and he has Logan backed up against the wall.

"What's going on?" Logan asks, and then he stops talking as Remy unbuttons his fly and leans in for another kiss.

He grunts against Remy's lips, his mouth opening up eagerly, hands dragging Remy closer by the shirt. Remy gets his left hand in Logan's hair, his right hand skimming fingertips over the growing bulge in his jeans, kissing him as if it's been weeks since they last touched instead of the few short hours since the morning.

Remy breaks the kiss, tilting his head and licking the side of Logan's throat, dropping quick kisses onto the skin. Logan tilts his hips forward, helping as Remy shoves his  jeans down and out of the way. Sucking in a quiet breath, Logan shudders all over, moaning when Remy grips his erection.

And then they're kissing again, messy and rough, Logan's teeth scraping over Remy's lips and his hips thrusting into his grip. It feels violent and desperate and perfect, Remy leaning on Logan with all of his weight and yanking on his hair. Logan's hands are wrapped up in fabric, pulling hard at the flannel around Remy's shoulders. He makes soft, needy noises, something that might have been a moan or Remy's name or both but is caught up in the kiss, the sound never making it any further than Remy's tongue.

Kissing Logan is always intense, heated, a thousand times more intoxicating than any drug Remy's ever tried, any drink he's ever tasted.

Remy twists his hand, short rough motions intended to bring Logan off as quickly as possible, his thumb skidding over the head, pre-come slicking his grip. Logan jerks, a shiver running through his entire body. A muttered "fuck" falls from his lips as he tilts his head back, his eyes half-lidded.

Face flushed, lips shiny dark red and shiny with saliva, barely audible sounds in the back of his throat -- Logan sounds frantic, looks pornographic. 

Remy bites the corded tendons underneath his jaw, licks and sucks at the curve of his neck, scrapes his teeth down to the hollow of Logan's throat. And then Logan says "Remy, god," his voice breaking and Remy licks at Logan's mouth once more, takes the taste of his name from Logan's lips before he drops to his knees.

Logan swears, tipping his head forward to watch as Remy licks a stripe from the base of his cock, a slow swirl of his tongue along the underside, pausing briefly to suck on the head. Remy pulls off to run his tongue over the shaft, mouthing gently at the skin of Logan's balls, liking the way Logan gasps.

His thighs tremble under Remy's fingertips, muscles straining to stay still. Pressing one hand to Logan's hip, Remy holds him in place, dragging the tip of his tongue once more over Logan's cock. Very gently, he runs the edge of his teeth over the sensitive ridge under the head, smug when Logan shudders violently and then falls completely silent, his mouth open and his hands curling around the back of Remy's neck.

Licking his lips, Remy sucks Logan in earnest, his cheeks hollowing with effort, Logan's taste salty and sharp on his tongue. Logan's breathing speeds up, inhaling fast and harsh, eyes shut and his head hanging down, chin resting on his collar. He makes a choked-sounding noise, hips jutting forward, holding Remy in place with a hand behind his head. Remy lets him, his lips going slack as he opens his mouth a little wider, letting Logan thrust forward. He's still got his hand around Logan's cock, stroking him, squeezing tight around the base.

Slow, intense drag of Logan's cock, full and heavy against Remy's tongue, bumping into the roof of his mouth, pressing to the back of his throat. Logan's fingers tighten, pulling on Remy's hair, urging him forward. He's still silent, though, mouth working as if he's trying to moan but doesn't have the strength to do anything more than thrust forward greedily.

His eyes are still shut, but Logan's breath is coming in harsh, shuddering gasps, and he thrusts again and again, pushing into Remy's mouth almost desperately.

Sucking a little harder, Remy tilts his head forward and swallows around Logan's cock, taking him in all the way to the hilt. Logan hisses, hips jerking, hands tightening even more. His eyes fly open, heavy lidded, pupils blown wide, a thin ring of brown around wide black centers. He stares down, a hand cupping Remy's jaw as he fucks Remy's mouth. Short, shallow thrusts, frantic and ragged.

His breathing is erratic, harsh pants punctuated with short, frantic gasps.

Logan surges forward, his breath hitching, and that's all the warning Remy gets before Logan comes, his mouth falling open and lips moving, but no sound escaping. Hot, bitter fluid spills in the back of Remy's throat, choking him a little bit as he swallows reflexively.

Logan lets go of his jaw, but Remy stays still, mouth slipping slowly from Logan's cock with an obscenely wet pop. Swaying, Remy licks his lips, catching a stray droplet of Logan's come on the tip of his tongue. They stay that way for a moment, Logan's fingers in Remy's hair, Remy's hand on Logan's hip,  his lips wet and open an inch away from Logan's softening cock.

Hoarsely, Remy says, "Logan,"

Growling, Logan grabs a fistful of shirt, dragging Remy to his feet and pulling him forward, his mouth attacking Remy's savagely, nipping and biting with his teeth. He cups Remy's erection through his jeans, the heel of his hand pressing hard -- and that's enough, somehow, to send Remy shuddering over the edge, every muscle in his body straining toward Logan. He comes with a mangled moan, his lips skidding over the skin of Logan's cheek, breathing hot into Logan's ear.

Logan drops his head onto Remy's shoulder then, hands clutching at him sort of frantically, finally settling down onto Remy's waist. He's still panting, out of breath, sucking air into his lungs as if he'd just run a marathon.

The problem with having sex with Logan is that afterward, the only thing he can think about is having more sex with Logan. It's addictive, and Remy thinks, still trembling with aftershocks, that the only reason they have ever stopped is because they were both too exhausted to keep fucking.

Remy recovers first, catching his breath and then pulling his jeans up, gently tucking Logan's cock away and buttoning his fly. Logan still isn't moving, so Remy takes the opportunity to tilt his head to the side, enjoying the way Logan looks so completely wrecked. Remy nips at his shoulder, and then pushes his shirt collar to the side and runs his teeth over the exposed skin, sucking and biting until he can see the skin purpling up, bruising underneath his mouth.

The marks disappear almost as soon as he lifts his mouth away.

Perhaps he can't mark Logan in a traditional way, leaving bruises and bite marks over his skin like a brand, but then again, when Logan's like this Remy doesn't need to. The other man looks -- completely taken apart, not just post-coital but thoroughly fucked.

Having already lost his mind, Remy considers that. He thinks about turning Logan around and bracing his arms against the wall, about fucking him right then and there. He could make Logan beg, until he was absolutely sobbing for it -- there's no doubt in his mind that Remy could have Logan right now, could slick him up with spit and semen and fuck him raw.

But then again, Remy's also certain that he's made Logan miss the end of his lunch break, by ten minutes if not more, and there's no way that the others don't know why Remy dragged him off. And besides that, Remy wants Logan to go back to his macho construction worker friends when he's like this, wants them to see him fucked-out and ready for more.It's better than a hickey on the side of Logan's neck, and Remy doesn't really need to stake his claim any other way.

He smiles, drops a kiss to Logan's shoulder, another to his collarbone, and one last kiss, slow and sweet, open-mouthed onto Logan's lips.

"I've got to go," Remy says, loathe to break away, but he also doesn't want Logan to get fired for literally fucking around on the job.

Logan nods, sagging a little bit, clearing his throat twice before he manages any words. "I, uh... there was. There was --a," He says, his voice ragged. "There was a job, up -- up in Yellowknife,"

Remy looks at him, uncertain what the fuck that's about. Yellowknife is somewhere to to north, he knows that much, and this could be confusion because Logan just had his dick sucked and forming words is beyond him, or confusion because Logan is actively fucking with his brain. He doesn't know whether or not this is another test Logan doesn't want him to pass, if this is just Logan  being his usual idiotic self.

"You know, cher," He drawls, pulling Logan away from the wall and forcing him to stand without support. "I kind of like it here," and he realizes, too late, that he's not even being ironic.

-

When Remy walks out from behind the building to see the other workers finishing off the last of the beer, he's glad that he's wearing Logan's shirt instead of one of his own. The too-long tails hide the damp spot on the front of his jeans. Logan, half-limping in an awkward gait behind him with his eyes glazed and his lips dark pink and kiss-swollen, doesn't even notice the way everyone else stares at them. He looks as blissed-out as Remy's ever seen him, his eyes are still dark and his expression kind of hungry.

It's impossible to stop the smile from appearing on his face, and Remy doesn't even want to. He smirks, smug and satisfied, deeply amused by their helplessly wide-eyed expressions. Their eyes flicker back and forth between Remy's exterior cool, and Logan's sexed-out and acutely slutty body language.

Remy pauses by the truck, lets Logan kiss him hard and wet, the kind of a kiss that promises tonight is going to be a really good one.

"I work tomorrow," Remy says, quirking an eyebrow in Logan's direction. "So if you forget your lunch, cher, I won't be bringing it to you."

Logan kisses him again, this kiss just a tad sluttier, open-mouthed and filthy, before he heads back to work with a small smile on his face. The other men stare at Remy, clearly wondering what the fuck he'd just done.

Remy's smirk grows wider, almost a grin, as he climbs back into the truck. He may have arrived looking like Logan's younger, pretty-boy fuck toy, but he has the feeling that any of these men who works with Logan in the future is going to have a much different idea of who, exactly, is whose plaything. Humming, Remy starts the engine, driving off and wondering if he's going to have time to finish the laundry and vacuuming before Logan gets home and tackles him onto the living room couch.

Remy's been a lot of things, but he ain't never been a fool, and there ain't no way in hell they're making it all the way to the bedroom tonight.

-