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"Don't try to pull that bullshit with me, Gambit," Scott said sharply. "You aren't legal yet. I don't care how many fake ID's you have." Remy rolled his eyes.

"Been drinkin' since 17, me. Don' need a big brother."

"Rogue's 22. You're two years younger. You can't drink until you're 21."

"Cyke, Gambit ain't one of y'r kids."

"No, but you live in this house. If I let you drink, I'll have to let Jubilee drink."

"Just tell her I'm legal. She ain't gonna question it."

"No." Gambit threw his hands in the air.

"Y' crazy, homme!" The thief stalked out of the room.

"Yer just gonna drive him into town," Logan observed, opening Gambit's abandoned beer.

"Yeah." Scott smiled. "And you're going to follow him." Logan raised his brows as he took a slug. "And I'm going to follow you. Once he's suitably drunk, we'll have another chat."

"Yer sick, cruel, twisted, and sneaky."

"You love me anyway."

"I'll follow the kid and give you a call."



The bar was smoky and run down. Scott was sure he recognized at least ten faces from wanted posters at the post office. But, considering he was a wanted terrorist about to have a conversation with an almost immortal spy and a world-class thief, he was willing to over-look that. He settled on Gambit's free side, effectively hemming him in before he could speak.

"Leave de lecture for de mornin', Cyke. Jus' have a drink." Gambit said, peering at him from under his fringe of bangs.

"Pulling little-boy, puppy-dog eyes is not helping your case." Scott forced down a grin. Gambit poured himself another shot of bourbon with a rock steady hand. Half of the bottle was already gone. Logan was drinking whiskey. Scott ordered a beer from the bored, aging waitress. "Your tolerance won't last forever."

"Summers," Remy sighed, "I been over dis wit' le docteur. De alcohol and de cigarettes don' affect dis boy at all."

"Healing factor?" Logan asked.

"Non. Not exactly. Seems dere's only certain drinks dat Remy breaks down normally. Bourbon ain't one of dem. De one's dat are broke down right, Remy's sensitive to. Get stupid drunk offa dem."

Scott nodded a thank you to the waitress and dropped a five on her tray. "You talked to your doctor about it? Not Hank?"

"Non, not Henri. Wit' another docteur. Gotta be careful not t' lose control, non? Be bad f' de interior decoratin'." Logan snickered. "Tested it in a controlled settin'." Gambit shrugged. "Don' want people t' get hurt. S' why Remy went t' de doc in de first place." Scott nodded.

"When's your birthday?"

The crimson eyes blinked once, twice. "Mark it on January first. Like de ponies." Scott blinked at that. The confusion must have been evident. "Mon mere didn' leave a birth certificate pinned t' me when she left. Jean-Luc's de first one dat ever dought le Diablo Blanc needed a birthday."

"The white devil?" Logan translated.

"Oui. De demon-chile. 'cause Remy got dese eyes." The Cajun shrugged and knocked back another shot. He flagged down the waitress.

"What can I get for you, Sweetie?"

"Rum, sil vous plait." She nodded. She looked at Scott.

"You in charge of getting these two home in one piece?" He nodded. "Coke?"


"She isn't worth it, Sweetie," she told Remy when she set down the glass.


"Any time you drink rum it's to forget. Charmer like you, more than likely a she." She patted his hand. "Take good care of him." Remy rolled his eyes.

"Y' keep up like dat, he ain't gonna let me outta de house."

"Not necessarily a bad idea. I wouldn't let you out." She winked at him. "Of course, there's plenty of things I could think of to do with you."

Remy smiled up at her. "You gonna make me forget whatsername?"

"My husband might have something to say about that."

"We jus' hook him up wit' m' wife. De bartender, oui?"

"That's my Mike. Twenty-three years."

"He's doable." The waitress laughed. It was a surprisingly pretty sound.

"You're a gem, Sweetie."

"Hey, Baby, we need another round!"

"What's your name?" Scott asked.

"Bell-Flower. My mother loved bluebells, but my dad refused to name me like a cow. You can call me Bell." She paused. "Or Baby like the rest of these boys."


"Shut up! I'm taking care of payin' customers first! They've got a tab and they think they deserve fist-class treatment. You listen to the driver, Honey," she ordered Gambit before she left.

"See, even the waitress knows I'm in charge. So, you're married. Does Rogue know?" Gambit winced. He knocked back a shot of bourbon before answering. He sighed.

"Oui, but she don't seem t' care. Hell, ain't she been courted before? Dought she and Drake had somet'ing."

"Drake had a crush on her, but they never pursued it. Why are you flirting with her?"

"Because of de lightenin' bolt, head over heels, don't think about lookin' twice cuz y' never finished de first time bout of love-sickness I've got."

"What about yer wife, kid?" Logan asked, wiping the sappy grin off of the younger man's face.

"Weren't like dat, Logan. Belladonna and me, we be best friends. Love her, oui, but it's…" he stared off at the mirror behind the bar. "Belle an' me could win a war t'gether if'n de price be right, but dere's somet'ing dat got broke along de way dat can't be fixed. De femme hate Remy. Hate him enough dat he walks back int' town she gon' t' kill him." He took a sip of rum, savoring the flavor of it.

"What did you do?" Scott probed. This was more than he'd expected to get out of the man.

"Her brother challenged Remy t' a duel on de night of de weddin'. Remy won. Can' go back home again. Pushed m' luck takin' Stormy dere f' Marti Gras." Another sip of rum followed by more bourbon.

"What weapon?" Logan asked as he down another gulp of whiskey.

"Swords. Bit of a traditionalist, me."

"Duels are illegal."

"Y' don' understand 'bout honor, do y'? I let de challenge lie an' I shame m' whole family. He issue de challenge an' break de truce 'tween de families because he dought it be shameful f' Belle t' be married t' someone ot'er dan hisself."

"His sister?" Scott hissed.

"Oui. Julien weren't all dat right in de head. Still de breakin' of de truce be as shameful as de losin' of de duel. Remy an Belle still be married, but it be more form dan anyt'ing." A more liberal sip of rum followed this statement. "But Belle ain' fait'ful t' moi, an' Remy ain' fait'ful t' her. An' de families can' get angry 'cause dey can' prove anyt'ing against eit'er of us."

Remy pushed the rum away from himself, already feeling pleasantly buzzed. "So y' and Jeannie plannin' on actually gettin' married one of dese days?"

"Yes. We're planning on next June barring any cloning, insanity or split personalities."

"Dink y' better off jus' goin' t' Vegas." Remy assessed. "An' Logan?"

"Ain't gettin' hitched." Remy rolled his eyes.

"Y' okay wit' de two of dem?"

"Always knew I never had a shot with Jeannie."

"Weren't Jeannie I be talkin' about." Scott and Logan stared at him. "Y' dink Remy's blind? He ain't de only one who knows y' two are t'get'er." His accent began to thicken as the rum flowed through his bloodstream.

"And how do ya figure that?" Logan's fingers tightened around his glass.

"Y' flirt all de time and y' do a lot of one on one trainin'. 'Sides, Jean told me."

"I told ya Red knew."

"I know." Scott sighed. "She told me to go ahead."

"Why didn't ya tell me she knew?"

"It was so much more fun watching you squirm for a change."

"Yer a sick, sick man."

"Are you just figuring that out? Come on, let's move this party someplace more quiet. Where are your keys, Gambit." Reluctantly, the thief handed them over. "You ride with Logan. I'll get us something for later."

"The usual place?" Logan asked.

"Yeah." Gambit eyed them suspiciously before slipping on his shades. He looked at the mostly full glass of rum. He looked at Logan. Logan picked it up.

"Waste not, want not." Gambit rolled his eyes. He gestured for the smaller man to take it.

"All yours, homme." Bell-Flower was frowning at them. Logan put down the drink.

"Naw. Come on, kid. Let's get going." Gambit shot a glance over his shoulder at Scott who was at the bar talking intensely to Mike. He sighed. There was nothing to do but go along with it. He was just worried about his bike. Not that he didn't trust Scott with his property, but, well, Logan never let the man near his machine. It just might be a minor, hidden failing on the part of the X-men's field commander. Logan raised an impatient brow. "Gumbo," he growled. The thief sighed and followed him out.

Logan climbed onto his bike. Gambit hesitated a moment, looking uncertainly at his bike. "Cyke's not gonna let anythin' happen to it."

"Oui," Remy conceded. He climbed on behind the stocky man. "Y' just remember not all of us got great healin'."

"Just hang on."

"Merde," Gambit muttered. He hated not being in control of his ride. Logan grinned to himself when he felt the younger man's arms wrap around his waist and his forehead rest against the back of his neck. He sped up.


"You want a happy drunk, a morose drunk, or a dead to the world drunk?"

"Happy, fun loving, and compliant." Mike grinned.

"Here. You'll need a bottle of this for yourself, I think," he said placing a bottle of Absolut on the counter. Then, he pulled out a bottle of schnaps, peppermint schnaps to be exact.

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. The boy'll be sweet as anything. Just ask Bell."

"Now, if I could just find a way to shut him up, life would be perfect."

"Duct tape," Bell suggested as she put down her tray. "Genetic fault. Can't stop talking or flirting. Schnaps. If you can't stand him talking, don't try it."

"I think I can handle it for one night. Who knows. Maybe I'll learn his deep dark secret of winning at cards."

"Dumb luck," the bartender told him. "Here, a bottle of scotch for the cranky Hell's Angel."

"Logan? Yeah, he does drink that shit." Scott paid and headed to the bike. He grinned. Well, it was probably his first and last chance to touch Gambit's child so he was going to use it for all it was worth.


"Sit down, Gumbo. Slim ain't gonna hurt yer bike." Gambit snorted.

"Non, homme. He don't hurt y'r bike. But Gambit don't have claws." The thief continued to pace. Logan had all he could do not to laugh out loud. The last time he'd seen the kid this edgy was, well, he'd never seen him this edgy. Guess the bike means more ta him than I thought, Logan decided. He looked closer. There was something that was bothering him. Aw, hell. He was so used to watching Scott pace he was just not used to seeing anyone else do it.

"Sit down," Logan ordered again. The younger man gestured at him to shut up. Logan heard it too.

"What de hell did de man do t' de engine? She was purrin' like a kitten earlier." The Cajun was out of the room and in the parking lot in less than five seconds. Logan couldn't help it, he started laughing. Scott set the bottles on the table and looked at the still convulsing Wolverine. He could hear Gambit cursing in the parking lot. He went to observe the proceedings.

Gambit muttered darkly and glared at Scott. "What y' do t' her?"

"I just took her for a ride. That's all." The thief ran his hands over the motorcycle. He found the bullet holes. He took a deep breath and the glow faded from his hands. He stalked to the door, pushed Scott into the room and slammed the door.

"Where de hell were y' ridin'? What did y' do? Who de hell did y' piss off? How many shots did dey fire? What kind of ammo? Did y' get hit? Did y' kill any of dem? Am I gonna have t' explain t' de Professor dat it weren't Remy's fault dat his bike got involved in somet'ing de Kingpin ain't gonna be happy about?" Gambit finally took a breath and in that instant Scott opened his mouth to reply just as Logan started with his questions.

"Gunshots? Someone took potshots at ya? Where? When? How many shots? Did ya get a look at any of 'em? Are ya hurt, Slim?"

"Both of you, shut up and let me talk." Gambit frowned and Scott rolled his eyes. "I was headed this way and took a detour down 53rd. The shots came from an alley way. No, I'm not hit. And I didn't think it was prudent to investigate." The crimson eyes widened and suddenly a torrent of Cajun-French assaulted Scott's ears.

He figured out a few words, "shit," "assassin," and "murder." That was enough. He let Gambit ramble for a little bit, then looked over at Wolverine. He grabbed Remy by the lapels of his coat and kissed him. The thief was stunned into silence. He blinked. Scott released his grip. Gambit stumbled back. "What de hell was dat?"

"It's called a kiss. I thought you'd have a passing aquaintence with them."

"A kiss."

"Oui," Scott teased. "Having difficulty with English? I didn't know I was that good."

"Why the fuck…? Do I have a sign somewhere sayin' 'amoral slut'?" Remy wondered aloud. Cyclops lifted the younger man's chin in his hand and frowned, turning his head from side to side. He traced his finger across the younger man's forehead.

"Right here."

"Oh, so long as it's dere." Gambit reached for the schnaps. "Figure Mike sent dis f' moi."

"Wouldn't be caught dead drinkin' it."

"Ah, de all powerful Wolverine havin' an image problem?"

"Shut up and drink yer Kraut liquor."

"Dat explains it. Y' were in de war, non? Explainin' y' problem wit' Frogs. Y' don' know what y' missin'. M' po' bike." Remy glanced around the room with a sneer of distaste when he saw the plastic glasses. "Y' have de good sense t' lift a coupla glasses?"

"Nope. Gonna have to make do with plastic. Or drink from the bottle. Peppermint isn't my favorite." Remy shook his head.

"Y' get used t' it. Least dis boy did." He sighed.

"If you get drunk am I going to have to pay for damages?"

"Non, told ya. Practiced containin' m' powers even when drunk." Gambit surveyed the room again. He took a gulp of schnapps. There was something very unsettling about being in a hotel room with a couple and only one bed. This was beyond third wheel time. Time to be good and drunk, so as to have something to blame whatever was coming on. Besides, he had a long day ahead of him. He was going to need to take out the engine and find out where the damage was, and redo the body work and repaint the side. Damn, this was going to cost. Maybe he could find a way to make Scott pay for it.

The sudden brightening of Gambit's smile made Cyclops nervous. He studied the younger man who, it appeared was trying his best to get completely pissed in less than half an hour. He didn't want him to OD on them. Wolverine just handed him the vodka. "So, ya got shot at. Why don't that surprise me?"

"He's a Summers!" Remy declared. "Dey attract trouble like a lightenin' rod."

"Somehow I have to think that this is actually your fault, Gambit."

"Moi? Quoi?"

"It was your bike. And I suppose that at high speeds they wouldn't know it wasn't you on it."

"Remy ain't stupid enough t'… nevermind."

"To what?" Scott said as he debated whether or not to bother fighting his way into the hermetically sealed plastic cups.

"T' drive t'rough Assassin territory."

"Assassin territory? Is there a new gang out there?" Remy snickered.

"Ain't exactly new, cher."

"So, enlighten me." The schnapps was doing its job quite nicely Remy decided. Yes, he'd already managed to hint that there were assassins in New York, that he and the professor both knew the Kingpin. Well, to be honest he'd done both of those things while mostly sober. No, this was the time to forget and hope that if he got Scott smashed, he'd forget to. Forget everything. Yes, that was the plan. Now, how to go about it. "Talk," Scott snapped. Gambit looked at the bottle. It seemed he needed to drink faster. "Hey, come on. You can't just start with something like that and forget about it."

"De Assassins. Like T'ieves. Dey be everywhere. Remy just don' go where dey be."

"So they've been around awhile?"

"As long as New York, Cyke." Remy rolled his eyes. "Dey jus' don' own de City. De gangs hire de assassins t' do dings. Jus' like dey hire t'ieves."

Wolverine gave Gambit a measured look. "Yer still workin' ain't ya?"

"Non. Promised Xavier. Only steal f' him now." Remy frowned. "Never dought about it dat way b'fore. Don't dink I like dat. Need t' keep m' rep."

Scott raised a brow. Logan actually filled him in. "Kid's one of the top ten in the world, ya know."

"It had slipped my mind." Scott had decided to stop fighting with the glass and just drink down his vodka from the bottle. The alcohol did a slow burn down his throat. Oh, that felt so nice and smooth. He mentally reviewed his plans. Yep, the Cajun was well on to being totally sloshed. It was nice to see that the man had some weakness. And, he decided as the vodka relaxed the muscles that had been tense since he'd heard the first shot, nice to know he did trust them to some extent. Now, how to use that to his advantage.


Remy wasn't exactly sure how he'd ended up between the two lovers, watching television. It was some old sci-fi movie that Logan must have seen a hundred times because he kept yelling out lines along with the screen. Scott had that little smile on his face that lovers get when they are indulging their better halves. One bed, three men, any way he added it up, Remy was coming up with a problem. The schnapps was working quite well and his brain was firing rather sluggishly. He hadn't protested when Scott had taken away the bottle. Or even when the older man had settled an arm around his shoulders. Logan glanced at Scott over Remy's head as the younger man's eyes started to droop.

"No ya don't, Kid," Logan said poking the thief in the side. Remy giggled. It was an honest to God, little boy giggle. "Now I know ya ain't legal." Remy made a talking motion with his hand and ignored that. He was just starting to get comfortable. Then, he heard the clang of swords. His eyes popped open and he jerked to full alertness. Oh, that must have been why Logan was willing to suffer through the not so spectacular plot. "Hey, it's okay," Logan soothed. Damn, Logan thought, they'd been doing so well. Now, he'd gone and tensed up again.

The red eyes blinked at the television screen. It took awhile but finally something seemed to actually fire behind those eyes and Gambit relaxed again. His pulse was slowing down again and he'd decided the Scott's shoulder made a good enough pillow for the moment. Scott blinked when Gambit's hand settled in his lap. He refused to let the boy take control of the situation, even though that felt rather nice. He decided to take another sip of vodka.

"What color be y' eyes?" Scott blinked.

"Brown, I think." Logan glanced over at him with interest.

"I thought they'd be blue. Or maybe red're somethin'."

"They glow red sometimes, but they're dark brown. Black at times, or they used to be at least. Well, my file says brown, but who knows." Gambit leaned back to look at Scott and try to imagine him with brown eyes.

"Dink y' be right, Logan, should be blue. But den, nature an' all dat shit dat Henri's always talkin'. Y' close y' eyes f' a second?"

"They're closed." Gambit took the glasses off gently so he could see the line of Scott's face. He frowned at the lines on his forehead. He reached up the massage away the tension.

"Non. Y' supposed t' be relaxin'. Dat's why y' watchin' one of de lamest movies…"

"Hey!" Logan smacked the kid's head.

"He's hittin' m'." Scott caught Remy's wrist and pulled him over and onto his lap. "Hey." Scott kissed the Cajun again.

"My glasses?"

Remy gave them back, eyes a little dazed from the contact. Scott looked into the dilated eyes. "What y' up t', M. Scott?"

"I was planning to have sex. How about you?"

"That works f' m'. But I t'ink y' boy'd be upset wit' y'."

"Naw, not if I let him join in." Scott's grin was slightly manic. Remy shivered in Scott's lap, feeling the cock grow against his thigh. The television switched off and Remy felt Logan's fingers brush down his spine. "What do you say, Cajun? Up for a night?"

Remy nodded, throat suddenly dry. He reached for the fortifying schnapps, but Scott caught his hand and kissed it instead. Scott shook his head. "I want you to remember this in the morning." Remy swallowed. He watched as Logan slowly stripped off his clothes. Scott's fingers tangled in Remy's bangs. He whispered softly in the young man's ear. "I'm gonna fuck your ass, he's going to fuck your mouth, then, I'm going to make you come so hard that your teeth rattle. You're going to be so hard that you'll be begging for one of us to touch you and when you come, you're going to think you're dead." Remy licked his lips. Scott's hand slid up under the Cajun's tee-shirt. Remy gasped at the touch. He wasn't used to skin on skin contact anymore. Rogue had never allowed it, they were off at the moment anyway, and Belle was too far away to touch. Logan's rougher fingers worked at Remy's jeans. He pulled them down and off. Scott transferred the thief into the Canadian's care and stripped off his own clothes. Then, he settled down beside the young man, tossing the lube and condoms he'd retrieved from his jacket on the bedside table next to the remote.

Remy stroked through Logan's furry chest, liking the softness of it. Logan was grumbling low in his throat and Remy took that as encouragement. He found the hard pebbles of Logan's nipples and played with them, rolling them between his fingers. He bent forward to take one into his mouth. Then, he took the other. Logan's hands were heavy on his shoulders. Then, he was being pulled up. Logan filled the Cajun's mouth with his tongue as Scott explored the young man's ass with a lubed finger. Remy pushed back eagerly on the finger and Scott laughed. "Slut." Remy couldn’t deny the charge, being as his mouth was busy, but he wouldn't have in any case. He was a slut and he knew it.

Logan categorized the Cajun's flavor, comparing and contrasting it to the others in his memory. He was sweeter than Scott, but sharper than Mariko. He pulled back slowly, pulling on the full lip with his teeth, careful not to puncture it. "Open fer me," he growled into the young man's ear. Remy shivered, lips parting to reveal the pink tongue behind his teeth. He looked up with wide, innocent eyes. He'd never had a lover that didn't like the conceit that he or she was the first one to take him. Logan chuckled, lips curling up. "Cute." He ran a finger along the Cajun's jaw. He pressed down on the chin, opening the boy's jaw further. He guided Remy to his cock and Remy lapped at it.

Then, Scott was pressing into the tight chasm of Remy's ass and the Cajun groaned, the warm air gusting over the wetness on Logan's cock making it jump and twitch. Logan's fingers found purchase in Remy's hair. He buried his cock in the willing moistness of Remy's mouth. Remy's knees spread. He braced himself on the mattress with his hands. His eyes closed as he let the two men take complete control of his body. He opened himself to their emotions and trembled under the mixture of lust and affection. He knew in that instant that he had their trust and nearly wept with the joy of it.

Scott wasn't sure he'd be able to hold on long enough to give the Cajun a good ride. He wanted Logan to come before he did. He slowed his pace until he though he'd go mad from it. Logan came, back arching, fingers clenching white. Scott sped up and buried himself in that sweet ass. Remy swallowed, eyes closed. His cock was aching and he wanted to stroke it, but he didn't want to spoil Scott's fun. Logan's taste was slightly bitter. Remy assumed in a small corner of his mind that it had something to do with the metal on his bones. Remy licked his lips as Logan pulled free, then moaned as Scott struck deep inside as he came. Scott disengaged slowly, even as Logan went to get a damp cloth, then settled down on the bed. Remy whined deep in his throat. "Please, cher?" he begged sweetly. He laid down on his back, cock hard and weeping. Scott stroked down the Cajun's chest, toying with his responses. "Don' tease, sil vous plait." Scott kissed Remy's temple. His hand settled over the hard flesh. He stroked once, then twice, on the third stroke Remy came. He slumped down, a soft smile playing over his face. Logan cleaned the younger men gently, then prodded the Cajun over so that he could join them in the bed. Remy snuggled into the soft fur of Logan's chest. Scott curled around the younger man, burying his nose in the soft hair.