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Mon Glutton

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Chapter 1

Logan didn’t bother to wait for him to get up. From his point of view, if that asshole chose to stay up gallivanting around all night blowing shit up, why the hell should he care? Logan wandered down to the communal kitchen and shoved open the window to let the cool morning air come in. The sky outside was still dark, just a hint of light on the horizon above the trees. He took a deep breath, letting out a soft sigh as the fresh air hit his lungs. His mind still felt foggy from drinking heavy liquor last night.

The asshole had come in only a few hours ago. He’d come into the room, slowly dragging his feet and barely having enough energy to kick his boots off and shrug off his trench coat. Logan heard him walking about the room, muttering to himself as he went into the bathroom to take a piss. A faucet running as he washed his hands, and then a soft click as the light was turned off. A few seconds had passed where he suspected the asshole was going to leave the room. Then a soft, Cajun accent through the darkness reached his ears.

Mon Glutton, you awake?” His soft voice was rough, likely from yelling at his subordinates.  He was hesitant to approach lest he be attacked should Logan be deep in one of his nightmares. Logan grunted in affirmation, his back still facing his intruder. He heard a shuffle of feet as the figure came closer to brush his shoulder with a finger. Where he touched left a line of heat, irritating Logan. He growled like a wild animal, warning him not to wake him up too much. The finger withdrew and then he felt the bed sink on the other side as the asshole climbed in with him.

That had been, what, three hours ago? It was not unlike the idiot to come back at odd hours like Logan himself did. Although the fool did have a “career” outside of being one of the X-Men. Actually, now that he thought about in job terms, the asshole was a member of the X-Men part-time for the benefits, and had his career for the money. Or the thrill. Or the drinks. Or the women... The thought made Logan bristle at the thought.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a slightly squashed cigar. How it had survived without being crushed he wasn’t sure, but he only shrugged his shoulders and was thankful that it remained. Flicking out his zippo lighter, he chomped on the end of the cigar and spat the bit outside the window. Expertly, he lit the cigar all in one smooth motion before pocketing the zippo within half a second.

Logan puffed on the cigar, the robust taste relaxing him. He sighed again, letting the smoke leak from his lips outside the windows. Rogue hated it when he smoked, saying the smell was disgusting. He wasn’t about to go outside to freeze his ass off for a smoke, but he was thoughtful enough to blow it out the window. His ears caught the sound of feet walking towards the kitchen and he tensed, sniffing the air to detect who it was. The smoke clogged his senses, however, giving him the illusion that a dark roast coffee was being brewed.

He heard the person come in, but didn’t bother to turn his head. If Scott came to complain to him again about the asshole one more time Logan swore to himself he would tell Jean that Scott had tripped into his fist. Multiple times.

“Dis where you go? Shame on you, Logan.” Said the familiar accented voice. Logan turned his head to see Remy, better known as Gambit within the X-Men, staring back at him. The energy user has just woken up, his russet hair tousled as he stared at the other man through narrowed, red on black eyes. Logan wondered if they could be bloodshot, but he supposed that he’d never be able to tell. Said man grunted, turning his head away to blow another stream of smoke out the window.

“Go back to bed, you’re fucking exhausted.”

“Not tired. Look dis way.” Remy said in response. Logan turned his head as Remy came up to him. The asshole had filched one of his white undershirts when he wasn’t looking. The bottom of the undershirt was slightly two small riding up on Remy’s stomach when the energy user walked showing off a teasing flash of tanned skin before sliding back down.

Taking out one of his cigarettes Remy placed it between his lips and leaned forward to put the tip to the lighted end of Logan’s cigar. Remy puffed on the cigarette, his cheeks puffing out slightly as he drew in breath. A few more pulls and the end of the cigarette sprang to life flashing red for an instant before beginning to smolder. Logan watched as Remy inhaled the smoke, blowing out a neat stream out the window himself as he gave his teammate an amused glance.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why? Do you not like cigarette kisses? They are romantic, no?”

“Sure, whatever the hell you want to think. Those I don’t mind. Least I don’t smoke cancer sticks.” Logan snapped, using his cigar to wave at the slim white cigarette. Not that either one of them could get cancer anyway. Remy held his own smoking device in front of him to study it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders putting it back to his lips.

“Cigars are so healthy den? Dey are filled with tobacco, non? Tobacco is bad for you, mon glutton. It can kill you just as well as nicotine.” Remy pointed out, blowing another stream of smoke out the window defiantly. Logan grit his teeth at the nickname but grunted, pulling on his cigar as he considered a comeback. He felt too damn tired to be dealing with this kind of shit in the morning.

“A cigar won’t kill me, Gumbo. Several bullets to the head, a vial of poison, or an atomic explosion won’t do the trick either. Trust me, people have tried.” Logan replied, smirking behind his cigar at the thought. Remy’s brow crinkled as he considered this, giving the other X-Man a curious expression.

“An atomic bomb was dropped on you? When? Shall dis Cajun avenge your almost untimely death?”

“Fuck if I know. Make me something.” Logan snapped, irritated that his peace had been disturbed. Remy just grinned at him from behind his cigarette winking at the older man before going to look in the refrigerator to see what ingredients were available for breakfast.

Logan had been surprised when, one morning, he had woken up and walked in on Remy cooking. At first he had assumed the smell of bacon and eggs cooking had been the doing of one of the girls. Logan had wandered in, hoping to try and cajole them into letting him have some. When he saw the energy user standing over the stove flipping bacon, it had been awkward for a moment. It was like walking in on another guy masturbating only worse. Logan didn’t consider himself sexist, but to see the thief doing a domestic chore was almost disturbing.

Without saying a word, Remy just locked gazes with the other X-Man. They each gave the other a measure look before Remy broke the contact. Turning his back to the elder man, he continued to cook, nudging scrambled eggs around the pan as he sprinkled a pinch of spice over them. He then continued to add milk at intervals. Unsure of what to do, Logan had just continued to stand there, expecting Remy to say something. When the other man appeared to be ignoring him, he decided to play the same game as well.

Going over to the coffee pot to pour himself a mug (along with a dash of alcohol), he couldn’t help but continue to glance at Remy who seemed determined to keep staring at that damn food. No one else was awake and they had the kitchen to themselves. Logan drank the coffee straight instead of spiked, going to sit down in a chair and grabbing a folded newspaper he found discarded on the table. Probably Hank’s, since the professor seemed to be constantly reading everything in the University.

As he was reading, he heard Remy turn the stove off and the clink of plates as the man got one out. Another round of clinking filled the room as he slid a drawer open for eating utensils. Logan grit his teeth, wondering if he was being mocked or challenged by the food. He could not expect the other man to cook for him, certainly, but he had to wonder whether it was worth it to demand Remy to at least share rather than tease him with food? This early in the morning he was starving.

Suddenly the paper in Logan’s hands was snatched away. Remy loomed over him, eyes sparking playfully as the newspaper dangled from his fingers. Logan’s hands tightened into fists, feeling the familiar prick of his claws on the inside of his knuckles ready to leap out at his command. Before he could so much as blink, a plate was slid in front of him, resting on the edge. Remy placed the paper back in Logan’s hands, hiding the shocked expression on his face as the energy user calmly left the kitchen.

Not a word had been spoken. No sign of hostility or friendship shown, just the gesture of five slices of bacon and heap of fluffy, expertly made scrambled eggs on the plate. The only thing off was the fork which was across from Logan on the plate rather than to the side, but he was still speechless. He momentarily entertained the idea of storming after Remy and demanding what that had been about, but decided against it. For some odd reason, he was reluctant to start a problem with the Cajun. Glancing back down at his food, which was starting to look more and more appetizing, he had shrugged and began to eat.

Logan couldn’t say it was the best meal he had ever tasted, but he was certainly willing to let Remy stay on the team if only to cook breakfast for him in the mornings. He doubted, however, that everyone would be convinced to keep a dangerous criminal on the premises simply for his culinary skills. Just hire a cook or Logan could learn himself if he was so damn hungry.

Now, though, was another day. Another morning. Another breakfast. Logan caught a whiff of coffee as Remy poured the grounds into a filter. He watched as his Cajun went about preparing breakfast, wondering if it was a crime to make the other man cook for him when he clearly needed rest. Lately, Remy had been venturing out soon as night fell only coming back to the University in the wee hours of the morning. Scott suspected Remy had plans to takedown the X-Men, but Logan found himself reluctant to agree. Not out of a personal interest Logan considered, but rather it just didn’t seem like Remy’s style.

“How hungry are you? We have pancake mix, eggs, some bacon left-“

“All of it.”

“All?”

“Yeah.”

“Kay.” Remy said calmly as he poked his head back into the refrigerator, reaching in for the ingredients. Logan’s eyes flickered to the cigarette Remy had put out on a small plate, wondering if Rogue would have a fit if she found one of the plates had a black mark.

As Remy prepared breakfast, Logan was drawn back to gazing back out the window into the rising dawn. He hated sunrises; they always made him think too damn much. Like, why in the hell would someone choose the name Remy? It sounded too damn cute, like what a rich lady might call one of those small yapping dogs he always wanted to see if he kicked it hard enough if it would squeak instead. Glancing back at the thief, Logan thought Remy might be considered particularly annoying on occasion.

After the incident of an unexpected breakfast Logan had decided to ignore the gesture. Whether it was a peace offering or a threat, he had no fucking clue. Later that week he had completely forgotten about it except when he caught sight of Remy. That was when the weird shit began to happen between them.

Logan began to notice Remy testing his boundaries. The damn swamp rat always lurked around the edges, watching him and judging whether he could push the other dangerous man today. Sometimes, Remy seemed to deliberately step over the line just to get a reaction out of him. These confrontations usually ended with the thief almost losing his head or having one of Logan’s claws swipe dangerously close to his throat. But then Logan began to notice a pattern.

Remy never fought back. He refused to use his powers to defend himself. After a few incidents, Logan began to ignore the other mutant in favor of finding a bit of peace. This proved a poor tactic as then Remy began to seek him out deliberately. In battle it may be a brush across his hand or a light touch on his shoulder. Eventually these became verbal as Remy began to ask him simple questions. What kind of cigars did he like? Who did he think was personally more annoying, Scott or Bobby? If he had a choice, would he give up cigars or booze for the rest of his life? Logan wanted to be suspicious of Remy, wished he was but unless the Cajun wanted to know the five best diners within two hours by driving from the University or where to buy the best cigars at half price he was shit out of luck if he wanted to overthrow the X-Men with that information.

Eventually, the others began to notice the uncanny attention Remy gave Logan. They had assumed it was because the thief wished to get into Logan’s good graces. Scott had laughed at this notion, telling Remy he might as well try to get Logan into bed with for all the good it did him. Remy had raised a brow at that and then asked Scott if he had a secret crush on the buffer man. This led to Scott threatening to fling Remy out of a moving plane.

“Logan. Mon glutton, n'êtes-vous pas vous avez faim? Are you not hungry?” Remy was asking him. Logan jerked, having to stifle his claws from coming out. Rarely did he become so lost in thought that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. Remy stood there with a concerned look on his face, a plate heaped with food sitting on the table. Logan glanced down at his cigar in his hand and saw it was almost burned out. He ground out the rest of the stub on the windowsill before tossing it out the window into the bushes.

“That’s a stupid question. I didn’t eat last night. I just-“

“Drank yo’self into a stupor?” Remy finished for him, handing Logan an open bottle of beer as well with a quirk of his brow. Logan grunted in response, snatching the offered bottle as he got up and dragged his chair back to the table. Remy joined him sitting only a few feet away as he began to eat his food.

After the first bite of food, Logan just began to eat it. He inhaled the food in front of him as Remy finished his own breakfast, only having taken very little himself from the huge quantity of food he had made for Logan. When the thief got up and left the table, he came back with a plate piled high with pancakes dripping with butter and syrup placing this beside the one Logan was still working on. For his benefit, the leader of the X-Men managed a nod of thanks before beginning to devour the pancakes.

Remy leaned over, his hand slipping into Logan’s pants pocket and snatching up his zippo lighter. He got a chilling glare for taking the small item without permission but only smirked in response. Flicking it open, the flame came to life as Remy lit himself another cigarette giving out a small sigh as he inhaled the smoke.

“You truly are mon glutton, aren’t you Logan? Jean complains you eat enough for t’ree people. Your Cajun told her, ‘No chere, you have it wrong. Dis not t’ree, dis five.’” Remy said, watching with an air of amusement as Logan stuffed his face. He got another threatening glare for the tease as Logan got up and pushed the plates away.

Anyone who did not know the two could have sworn they saw sparks fly between them. Logan came up to Remy, reaching out to grab his arm and yank him closer. Next, a flash of blades would not have gone unnoticed if Logan chose to become hostile. Instead, the leader tilted his head at just the right angle and kissed on the other man on the lips. He pulled back minutely, smacking him on the back as he muttered something.

“Thanks, Cajun, but go get some sleep. You’re running on fumes I can tell.”

“If a mission comes up?”

“Your ass will be the first one I’m kicking out of bed and dragging to the plane even if you’re naked.”

“Such dirty talk! Mon glutton, you send shivers down my spine when you talk like dat.”

“Want me to break it?”

Non, you welcome to try d’ough. Dis swamp rat enjoys it when you make an attempt to kill him. It keeps t’ings spicy an’ interesting in a relationship, oui?” Remy said, giving the other man a lecherous grin. Logan just narrowed his eyes at him, wondering if punching him in the side of the head to knock him out was an appropriate way to get him back into bed. However, no action was necessary as Remy leaned over, one of his hands resting lightly on the back of his neck.

In all truth, they trusted each other. Logan allowed Remy to venture close enough when he began to notice the thief made no attempts to hide his activities. While he did not go out and give them a play-by-play of his own activities, he was able to provide tips. To weasel out information none of them was ever able to find. With each throw of the dice Remy had proven himself loyal to the team despite misgivings. The big turning point came when they had been in the middle of a fight. Logan had been fighting a droid, another nameless henchmen. His claws easily took care of it in a matter of seconds.

What he hadn’t noticed was the other droid coming up behind him. He had heard only a snarled bit of French as if cursing when suddenly an explosion rocked under his feet, temporarily causing him to lose his footing. The next second Remy had come into view, eyes blazing with power as cards flew from his hands towards the droid. Two more explosions went off, effectively sending robot parts in every direction. However, the torso was still mainly intact.

Remy grabbed Logan by the wrist, managing not to skewer himself on the claws only inches from his face as he lifted the other man to his feet. Logan had yanked his hand back, yelling at the Cajun for interfering when the torso fell on Remy. The other man had broken his staff earlier and he had been holding it in front of him ready for use should they be attacked again. When the torso fell on top of Remy, it had forced the jagged end of the staff into his chest.

Logan remembered seeing red after that. He had a vague recollection of taking down each droid, heedless of his own injuries. Creating a circle of destruction with Remy at its center lying on his back breathing shallowly. A pool of blood slowly widened around him the staff quivering with each breath he took.

Next, Logan found himself walking out of the hideout. The sickly sweet scent of blood still clogging his nostrils, an unchecked rage still coursing through his veins. His arms trembled with the effort to keep it contained until he realized he was carrying someone. When he looked down, he saw it was Remy, the wound staunched and bound with strips of his trench coat which seemed to have been lost in the battle.

Remy had woken up, his eyes slightly glazed over from blood loss. It took him a few seconds to focus on the face above him of the man who carried him. Then he opened his mouth, his lips stained with blood as he talked.

“You look so ferocious in yo’ mask, mon glutton. Tis only de face underneath dis Cajun wishes to see, nothing else. Dis one won’t ask you give anything you do not wish given, nor will you receive what you do not wish to receive. Dis, however, you do not have a choice in the matter.” Remy had said. Logan had assumed the man had gone delirious and considered dumping him right there at the entrance for the others to find.

Before he could take any action, Remy raised his head and managed to place a kiss under his chin. Low enough for him to reach, but high enough to show his intent. With that Remy fell back, a triumphant grin on his face.