Logan brows rose at the sight in front of him. Chuckles was in his office, working on something or other as usual, but sprawled across his lap, like an over-sized cat, was a young man with a mahogany colored ponytail. Ponytail was reading a file. One leg was on the floor and the other one bounced gently where it dangled over the side of the wheelchair.
"Ah, Logan, please, sit down." Xavier gestured to one of the guest chairs. He didn't seem inclined to discourage the young man lounging on him. "I believe you two may have already met?"
The young man turned to look at him from under his lashes. "As I live and breathe if it isn't the Wolverine," he said with a Southern-Belle falsetto.
Logan snorted. "LeBeau." Not so young then. Older than he looked at least. Possibly older than Scooter and Jeannie. He surveyed the two, nostrils flaring. "Huh. Interesting. Didn't think you'd cheat on Magneto, Chuck."
"Don't be sayin' such t'ings, cher," LeBeau shivered theatrically. "Y' make a boy crazy."
"As though you're sane," Scott said as he entered the room. "Jean wants you down in the med-lab, Remy."
"She can wait til Hell freezes then."
Summers checked his watch. "That'll be about three days, I think. Michigan is experiencing colder than normal temperatures right now."
"Mon petit growin' into his snark. Heard tell you're plannin' t' get married. Don't know if'n I approve of you marryin' an older woman."
"At least mine won't try to kill me." Scott settled in his favorite seat. "You're looking a little battered. What happened? Rough trade?"
"Remy ain't that old, cher. 'Sides, Charles," the name was a French-tinted purr, "don't like me steppin' out these days."
"I never liked your business transactions. Read this." He handed Remy the paper he'd been working on and a red pen.
"Jeannie's getting rather insistent that you go down right now," Scott stated. He put a thumb to his temple. "And I believe that Ororo might have a few things to tell you about disappearing on her."
"Left a note." LeBeau rolled his eyes. He scanned over the document and made a few notes. "What's this I hear about Charles and Eric havin' a bit of a spat again?"
"They play chess. In his prison cell. It's a disturbing amount of flirting to watch. I'll record a session for you."
LeBeau's lips quirked up. "My lil boy's all growed up."
"Must you?" Charles shook his head. "Do go see Jean before she starts broadcasting loudly enough for you to hear."
"I know when I ain't wanted." Remy kissed Charles' forehead before arching his back and flipping over the side of the chair to his feet.
"Show off," Scott pricked. Remy kissed his cheek before he left. Scott rubbed at it and made a face.
"Really, I had hoped the two of you would resolve your issues."
"He's my evil stepmother, poking at him is part of my charter. I have no choice. You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Logan, Scott, it's come to my attention that there is a new initiative in the works."
"Translation, Remy brought intel. Hand it over." Scott put out a hand.
"Bonjour, Jeannie." Remy kissed her cheek. She studied him.
"On the table."
"I ain't that kind of boy, chere."
She snorted. "I want to look at those bruises. They should have faded by now."
He pouted at her, but allowed her to prod at his throat. "Ain't like they an issue. Be gone soon enough."
"Did you lose consciousness?"
He didn't say anything until she looked up at him with a frown. "Mais. F' a minute or two."
"Twenty more like." He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Likely t'ought ole Remy was dead, but I got more to me than that. Least these days. So, tell m' 'bout Wolverine. He and Scott, oui?"
"Bite your tongue." Jean pulled a face at him. "That's my fiancee you're trying to sell off."
"Don't know. He does like older lovers, don't he?" He looked her up and down.
"I always forget how catty you are. Absence makes the heart grow fond."
Remy smirked at her. "Not my fault y' wanted in Charles' pants. Grow y'self a cock and he might notice."
"Who needs one when I have TK?" She checked his heart and lungs. "Have you had your blood tests run recently?"
"Last time I was here." Remy crossed his arms across his chest.
"That would be a 'no' then. Give me your arm. I'll run all the panels and we'll know if you picked up something tropical and disturbing from one of your fuck-toys."
"You kiss Scotty wit' that mouth?" He wrinkled his nose at her. "And I t'ought you was a good girl."
Jean snorted. "Don't try to pull that bullshit on me, Remy. I know you too well."
"Nosy 'paths. I swear."
She drew his blood with delicate competence. "You need to come home more than once a year. Charles misses you."
"Charles don't miss me. He misses sex. Difference there, chere."
Jean was quiet for a moment. There was a bitterness there that she didn't usually hear from him. "Remy, do you feel he's using you?"
"This where you promise t' save m' from manipulative ole men?" He rolled his eyes. "Charles ain't hurtin' me. He ain't doin' nothin' I don't want. But he don' love me neither and that I know fo' sure. I ain't Magneto. I ain't his wife. And merde, but it sucks t' have two past lovers t' live up t'." He shrugged. It was a little less smooth than usual. "But he's Charles, non? An' I been in an' out of his life so often I don't reckon I deserve t' have his heart. If'n I was here full-time? Oui, then I'd be worryin'."
"You don't have to leave. We have plenty of room and I'd love another adult around here."
"Wolverine got y' all bothered don't he?" Remy grinned and there was a sharp edge to it. "Saved his life once, me. An' worst thing is, he don't remember that. Remember my name mebbe. Remember that I might know somethin' about who he was. But non, Gambit does somethin' good and ain't no one 'round t' remember." He shook his head. "That's all y' need t' feed y'r babies, non? Wouldn't want t' put a mama vampire out."
"Someday, you'll tell me why you hate my sickbay."
He looked her up and down. "Y' ain't near as attractive as Bones."
"How do I forget about your Star Trek obsession?"
He patted her hand. "There, there. Old age creeps up on all of us."
"Out!" She shooed him out of the room. She forgot about checking him for broken ribs or counting his bruises. In fact, she barely remembered to store his blood away for later analysis.