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I'm Just The Paper Boy	By : SisterWine Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3780 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
The phone rang at a quarter to two in the morning and Logan fumbled to answer it from his sprawled position on the bed. "Hello?" The groggy voice made Logan jump as it didn't sound like his. Rubbing his face with his free hand, Logan sat up and listened to the loud background music behind the bartender that rang him. "Mark?"

"Hey, Logan," The bartender cleared his throat and covered the phone to yell something at another patron before returning to the conversation with Logan. "listen man, I dig your friend but, uh- he's been here every night this week and I'm gettin' kinda tired of separatin' him from everyone that gets in his way. Whatever trauma he's got goin on, this ain't the place to sort it out. Ya know?"

Logan sighed and nodded to himself as he knew exactly what Remy's problem was. "Alright, throw a bucket of water on him and I'll be down in about 20 minutes to collect him." He hung up the phone and threw the covers off of him as he got out of bed to get dressed in the dark.

Hurrying out the front door, Logan flipped on the living room light as well as the outside light while making his way to his car that had been parked in the driveway. Mumbling to himself that he was hoping Remy's drunken binges were contained in his own room. Slamming the car door shut and starting the engine, he threw it into reverse and peeled out of the driveway and raced down the street to The Hallowed Keg to retrieve Remy and spare his own reputation as well as a lawsuit he knew Mark wouldn't hesitate to slap him with.

Amazingly enough, he found a spot next to Remy's little blue pickup and gave a sigh as he shut off the engine and opened the door. Bracing himself for what might be going on inside, Logan trudged up to the door and took a long breath before walking inside. Logan swung the door open and cautiously looked around for the auburn-haired beauty. It was an easy job as Remy sat at a cornerbooth, chatting up a younger, more sloshed man. As Logan looked more closely, there had been several young men gathered around Remy, talking and laughing at what he had to say.

Logan's next task was to find Mark, at the bar, the other direction of Remy's booth and let him know Logan was now controlling the situation. The two men met eyes and nodded to each other. Logan smiled as Mark flashed a look of relief his way before going back to his customers as the bar.

After a long minute of getting his bearings with the loud music and musky smells mixed with sweat, alcohol and smoke, Logan made his way over to Remy's table and stopped in front of it. "So, I'm stuck at home, taking care of the kids and dealing with your crazy mother and her murder rap and here you are, living it up." He raised an eyebrow at one of the young men when he flashed a look of confidence at Logan. Grinning, he placed his hands firmly on the table and leaned in to them, "Boo!"

The four young men that sat around Remy now made hasty retreats without a look back, leaving Remy alone with Logan.

"Yo'r friend already took my keys. Ain't given me another drink, other dan water or coffee. So, laugh it up." Remy exhaled as Logan sat down, across from him. His head hurt and he was mighty thirsty but refused both the water and coffee.

Logan stared at Remy for a long while before sighing and resting his chin on his hand, his elbow on the table. "So, yer gonna drown yer sorrows in whatever fluffy twink that walks yer way?"

"Why not?" Remy avoided eye contact. "Worked for Scott."

Logan closed his eyes to count to 10 and calm down before he did something to Remy, the cajun might regret later on. When he opened them, Mark had just placed two cups of hot coffee down in front of them. Logan thanked him as the bartender walked away and then turned his attention back to the now sleepy Cajun. "For the record, you aren't Scott. Two, you did have a good head on your shoulders before this shit turned sideways. Three," he hesitated as Remy rested his head on his arm that lay across the table. "Nevermind. I'll tell ya in the mornin."

~~~~~~~~

They had made it halfway home when Remy started moving around, in the passenger seat. He mumbled to himself in what seemed, to Logan, a foreign language but was really a drunk version of Cajun tongue. He hadn't opened his eyes but somehow found what he was looking for by touching and numbly moving around the seat. Remy felt hot in his clothes and started to remove his leather jacket and unbutton his maroon shirt.

Logan couldn't help but sneak glances over at the stripping Cajun. He had taken off his seatbelt, in the process, and carelessly tossed his clothing on the floor, in front of him. "You might not want to get too comfy naked, we're almost home."

Remy shrugged it off with a soft laugh and continued to remove his shoes and then unfasten his jeans.

By the next light, Logan stopped and looked over in disbelief. "What do you think yer doin?"

"C'est hot in here, homme." Remy yawned and continued undressing, not caring that they were still in the car and a few streets away from home.

The next light was only a Pedestrian Cautionary and then a right turn onto Logan's street. Logan had a few houses to go before pulling into his own drive and putting the car into park. Shutting off the engine as he had parked just to the left of Remy's little truck, Logan looked over and found Remy asleep, once again, only this time he was still trying to take off his clothes. He sighed and got out of his side and tried to be quiet as he shut the door and went around to Remy's side. He opened the door and gave a small shake to the Cajun's naked arm.

Remy rolled his head around to look up at Logan and sleepily move to get out of the car, falling forward and wrapping his arms around Logan in a long, deep, wet kiss. His eyes slid closed and fell back onto the closed door as the kiss deepened from Logan's side. Knitting his fingers into Logan's hair and moaning softly, Remy let slip the wrong name that stopped everything cold, "Scott."

Clearing his throat and pulling away, Logan escorted the sloshed Cajun inside and down the hall to his room, dumping the young man onto the bed, leaving him to lie sideways and on his back. Logan yawned and headed across the hall to pour himself back into bed.

It wasn't the long day that had Logan exhausted, more to the fact of overly thinking about Scott and Remy. Scott kept Logan out of the loop from his other life to spend it with Remy but it was Remy who felt the extent of being in the dark about Scott's true intentions. Logan sat down on the side of his bed. The house was dark and he hadn't bothered closing either his or Remy's doors as he just wanted to go back to sleep. Divesting himself of his clothing and shoes, Logan's head hit the pillow after he had fallen asleep. His dreams were that of a twisted triangle between Logan, Remy and Scott. Logan found himself very aroused by the dream, so aroused that he flitted between sleep and awake, thinking he saw Remy standing in the doorway, watching him.

The more Logan gave in to the dream, the more he began to enjoy watching Remy and Scott have their sexual play with each other. It was hard seeing Scott struggle for dominance over Remy and Remy finally letting it happen, without his getting jealous of Scott making love to Remy. Logan growled. His dream became so vivid that he moaned at the feel of dream-Remy's mouth on his erection. It felt so real, having a wet warmth massage him to ejaculation that even the feel of himself coming felt real. Logan sighed as he felt warm and complete.

~~~~~~

When Logan poked his head out of his room, the next morning, he found that Remy's door was closed and the light was on. He heard movement but couldn't tell exactly what Remy was doing. Sighing and grabbing his jeans from the end of the bed, Logan slipped them on, zipped up and made his way back to Remy's door. He paused before he knocked and in that small pause, Remy must have sensed Logan was on the other side because the door swung open to reveal Logan's sombre roommate. "Mornin."

Remy hmmed and nodded.

As Logan looked closer at Remy's bed, it became clear what Remy was doing; packing. "Goin' somewhere, or just travellin'?"

"I'm tired of bein' in de middle of you an' Scott. So, you can have each other." The statement was said with little or no emotion as Remy turned back to packing a large, military-style duffel.

Logan leaned against the door and folded his arms in front of him, watching Remy collect small items from around his room. "Where ya gonna go?" Remy's admission hurt but he chose not to show it on his face.

Remy kept his back to Logan as he answered, "motel."

Unfolding himself and stepping into the room to stand behind Remy, Logan's hands itched to turn Remy around and profess his love for the Cajun but, he feared it would only drive the wedge deeper. "You don't have to do this, ya know. We can get through this. There's no sense on leavin' when he can't come in the house." He mentally kicked himself for how stupid his statement must have sounded to Remy but, all he could do was offer his assistance. Logan must have stared at Remy's back for five minutes before Remy paused in his task and sighed. His hands reached up to rest, lightly, on the Cajun's forearms.

"Ya know what hurts, Logan? It ain't de fact dat you an' Scott were tagether. Not even dat he used me ta get back at you for whatever. What really hurts is de fact dat he is tryin' ta get back to you, and you still want him. Don't you?" Shrugging out of Logan's grasp, Remy turned around and stared into Logan's surprised face. "Remy ain't built to be in de middle, Logan. Either you an' me, or no go." He waited for a moment, and when Logan only stood there, staring back at him, Remy took his cue. "Time's up, Logan. Time to go." Numb, Remy turned and gathered his belongings and walked past Logan and down the hall to the front door.

Logan was quick behind him. Remy's long legs strolled with an almost physical falter that Logan narrowly missed. "Stop. Please. We don't have to ever see Scott again, just don't walk out that door."

"Or what?"

Logan grabbed Remy's right arm as the Cajun had reached for the door knob with his left hand. He spun Remy around and met eyes. "Don't do this, Remy."

Remy blinked and sighed. "All de time I was livin' with Scott, he never told me-- jus' outta de blue-- dat he loved me. Never. I had to beg, after sex or durin'. It's gonna come easy for you ta say it to him, because you never said it to me. So, if you want somethin' from me about how we've been spendin' dis time, together," shaking out of Logan's grip and turning back to the door, opening it and then looking back to finish his statement, Remy gave a sad smile, "you'll always be de fire I can't put out. Who is your fire, Logan?"

Logan stepped forward as the door closed. He heard Remy's footsteps leading away from the front step, and rather quickly, at that. The last of Remy's words hovered on his brain, replaying time after time. He stood there, with one hand on the knob but couldn't make himself turn it and open the door. Logan knew all about Scott and his techniques. He taught him. Logan made a fist and punched the middle of the door, making a loud thunderous noise that echoed through the empty house. A fist-shaped indent splintered the oak door. How could Logan chase after Remy when he knew and understood why Remy left. It was all his fault. The lack of conviction to reassure Remy where his heart lay. The blasted last minute that he never seized to show Remy that Scott meant nothing to him, before Remy walked out of Scott's flat.

~~~~~~

The rain was relentless. It poured drop after drop down, slamming hard onto the flat, plaster roof of the motel. Remy's room was in the middle of a long line of cheap motel rooms. With one queen-sized bed, one nightstand, a small, two-drawer dresser with an 1980s television with a jumpy picture, carpeting from the mid-1970s and a definite smell of wet dust, it was becoming something Remy would not have dared to call 'home', had there've been an alternative in his situation. The bathroom was only big enough for a small, upright shower, toilet, and small, stand alone sink with picture mirror. Thirty year old linoleum had been broken off in pieces and started to expose the base coat of the floor, underneath. The window, next to the room door, was the only one of the two windows with a decent, heavy cloth curtain. The other window, on the other side of the room, was covered by a thin pull-down shade with curling sides.

The thin, top comforter was a burgundy colour awash with cool dark blues and a striping of yellow. Remy hadn't the strength to unmake the bed, so he laid down on top and curled onto his right side, staring at the pull-down curtain. The big, heavy television set, on the small dresser, at the foot of the bed, was on and an old showing of a popular 1950s program was playing. The sound was turned down to where Remy could just barely hear it and wasn't enough of a distraction from the sound of the ever-pounding rain.

Silent tears rolled off the bridge of his nose and fell heavily onto the maroon comforter that concealed the fluffy white pillow, beneath it. Soft breaths caught in remorse. Remorse for what he had wanted and lost. Love was in vain and the love he wanted was more of a damned lust than friendship. Yet, he had remained true, in hopes that one of them would be true, in return. A foolish thought, at best. Remy's tears continued until he had cried them all. Silent tears soaked his pillow. Why hadn't Logan stopped him from leaving? Why had he been put in the middle of such a cruel and stupid love game, between them? Finally, what was he going to do now?

Remy fell asleep, curled and soggy from tears. His fingertips of his right hand tapped and slid over his trembling lips. His body ached for the touch of a partner that chose another. His dreams were blurry, unfocused and changed so fast that Remy began to feel ill from reeling. Restless sleep gave way to final bliss of motionless sleep.

It was past afternoon when he woke. He had forgotten that he was not in his room, or bed, and forced himself to remember the tatters of yesterday. The rain had stopped some time in the night and now the sun shone through the sides of the thin pull-down curtain. Remy sat up and looked about the room, which somehow seemed smaller than the night before. He had been lying on his back, splayed, with his head facing the heavy drapes of the window beside the door. Coffee sounded good and he eyed the small, one-cup pot that sat on the corner of the square table, under the window next to the door.

A mini fridge sat on the other side of the dresser, between that and the bathroom inset. Remy sighed and made his way over to the fridge, opening the door and retrieving the water bottle he had placed there, the day before. He then made his way over to the coffee pot and took a single sip of water from the bottle before pouring a cup's worth into the container. He then took the small paper cup that sat next to the pot and turned it up, placing it next to the maker. The small decanter sat on a plastic tray along with four packets of sugar, a stirring straw, two packets of instant coffee grounds (one regular and one decaf), and a small, square tub for ice. "Yuban. Yummy." His voice was soft and squeaky and broke the silence of the room, startling him a little.

Fixing himself the regular cup of coffee, Remy waited for the liquid to stop dripping before removing the cup and sitting on the floor with his back against the side of the bed. He sighed and stared at the floor in front of him. A shiver ran down his spine as he heard a ringtone belonging to a certain short, hairy man, come from the empty pillow next to the one he used. Remy pursed his lips and waited for the voicemail to pick it up. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, Remy felt the hurt and aching start all over again.

Continued.
- 7
- 8
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I'm Just The Paper Boy