Pack Pride

"Come on, Gumbo. The snow's stopped falling. Time to have the mother of all snowball fights." Bobby grinned. Gambit looked over the top of his book, snorted and went back to reading. "Come on. Please?"

Gambit ignored the blond until he gave up. Remy snuggled into the corner of the couch and pulled the afghan up higher. Charles Xavier pondered him for a moment. Remy was the only one of his students who wasn't getting ready for the traditional post-snow fight.

"Remy," he said finally.

"Oui, Charles?"

"Why aren't you with your team?"

"Ain't goin' int' snow up t' m' waist f' a snowball fight. I ain't leavin' m' nice, snug, warm lil' corner f' not'in' less than Magneto hisself."

"I don't count?"

"Not 'less y're plannin' on takin' over the world."

"Not today," Xavier admitted. "At least join me on the porch."

"Y' obviously weren't listenin', homme. Magneto hisself. An' then just t' tell him he bein' nine kinds of foolish t' be out in the snow wit' not'in' but a cape and bucket on his head."

Magneto for his part had checked the weather forecast for Westchester and decided that his space-station was nice and warm.

Charles shook his head. "You truly don't want Scott to send someone in to fetch you. He tends to take traditions like this very seriously."

"Scotty can have 'em. I got m' favorite book, a cup of coffee an' m' blanket. Y' call up Rogue an' she tell y' I'm right."

Xavier abandoned the task. It would take someone more stubborn, or perhaps just more ruthless to pull the Cajun from his cocoon.

*****

Remy looked up to find Scott leaning over the back of the couch staring at him. "Y' here t' bring m' more coffee?" he asked hopefully.

"Guess again. I've got my old parka, your new gloves and boots that Logan made and my battle-visor. You're going to put on the clothes."

"Why should I? I'm warm an' snug right here wit' m' book."

"Because I have my visor and therefore can use my blasts to knock you out of your snuggly corner. Post-snow fights are a matter of tradition. Even Betsy is out there. We're just waiting on one stubborn Cajun. I was going to send in Logan, but he started on some rant about how alphas are in charge of strays not old Wolverines and I had to cut him off before the bullshit got too deep. I think he's just scared of you."

"Mebbe he got the right idea, homme."

"Don't even bother threatening me. I know you're a mush."

Remy stuck his tongue out.

"Later. Come one."

"What's it wort' t' y'?" Remy argued.

"I won't even give you a snowbath."

"Dat's like sayin' y' ain't gonna start it. Non, cher, Remy ain't dat stupid."

"Cut the accent, brat." Scott took the book away. He marked the place.

"I weren't done yet."

"I don't give a fuck. This is non-negotiable."

"I ain't gonna play in the snow!"

Scott yanked the quilt away.

"Connard!"

"Put on the clothes."

"Y' ain't playin' fair."

"I'll give you a kiss if you're good."

Remy snorted. "Kissin' ain't near enough payment f' the snow."

"Okay, I won't pair you with Bobby in the Danger Room unless you come out to play."

Remy considered. He shook his head. Scott tugged at the long ponytail. "Stop dat."

"No."

Remy scowled at his new lover, even as he pulled on his boots. "I expect a nice dinner an' dancin' once the weather turned proper."

"Deal." Scott's smile made Remy pause.

"What y' plannin'?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it." Scott tousled Remy's bangs. "You'll like it."

"Better not involve snow. Don' y' remember goin' off the road a few weeks back?"

"Vaguely."

Remy smacked Scott's thigh. "Weren't that enough of de cold f' y'?"

"Nope. I'm Alaskan."

"Bon Dieu."

"Lived most of my life in New York though."

Scott cajoled the Cajun up and out of the room. Remy looked out at the expanse of glistening white. "Better arm yourself, Babe," Scott purred into Remy's ear. Remy ducked the snowball Logan launched at him.

"I just go sit wit' Charles."

"Don't be a spoilsport."

Remy wavered, then stepped into the waist-high snow. He shivered. He ducked two more snowballs. Scott shook his head in dismay. "It's perfect snowball snow. Just pick up a handful, compact it and throw."

Remy sighed. He could already feel the cold seeping into his bones. "Y' better plan on warmin' dis po' boy up, cher."

Scott launched a snowball and caught Charles in the chest. Xavier frowned down at the young man, then launched his own snowball at the back of Scott's head.

Remy ducked another volley of snow from Jean's direction. He balled the snow together between his palms. He looked at the pathetic lump, then added more snow as he dodged the flying snow. He felt Logan's arms slide around him. "Lemme show ya. Yer hands are too flat. Make cups liker fer water." The new snowball was much better. Now pick your target and throw."

The snowball caught Bobby squarely in the chest. "Good work." Logan rubbed Remy's back.

"I'm fuckin' cold here, cher. I hate bein' cold. Y' owe me and so does Scotty."

Remy ducked another snowball. It caught Logan in the face. "We'll pay if ya play. Now, I've got a weather goddess to peg."

Remy muttered imprecations as he patted the snow into globes. Bobby had finally turned his attention elsewhere. It was just as well. Gambit's aim with a snowball was just as deadly as with his cards. He had managed to duck all of the snowballs directed at him which Storm thought was terribly unfair. She drew closer. He glanced at her suspiciously. He was obviously not in the best mood. He was actually frowning. His shoulders were tensed up like a wet cat's. "Y' hit m', petite, y' ain't gonna like it none."

"Would I do such a thing?"

"Oui. I ain't got none of this white shit under m' coat and I don' plan on getting' any. In fact, I'm plannin' t' head up those stairs and int' the house." Remy suited actions to words only to be pounced on by Logan.

"Where ya think yer goin', Darlin'?"

"Inside. Back t' m' nice cozy fire 'til I warm up. I done just about all dis team t'getherness I can stand. An' if y' even t'ink of puttin' that snow against m' face, y' can fuck y'self an' sleep wit' Scotty 'cause I sure as shit ain't gonna do it."

Logan debated, then pegged the retreating form in the back of the head. Remy's hands fisted. He continued to the stairs past the professor. "Remy. . ."

"Fuck off, Charles."

Xavier stared after him, stunned.

Oblivious to the minor drama, the rest of team continued to play. Storm left ostensibly to go the bathroom. However, it wasn't her room she went to. Remy was curled up in his bed with his book and a fresh cup of hot coffee with brandy in it. "I ain't in the mood, Stormy."

"Still, my dearest brother, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Whatever has put you in this foul mood."

"Snow, chere. Cold, wet, miserable, murderous, nasty snow. That an' bein' forced t' go out int' it by folks that know me better'n that. Why can't none of y' understand, petite? I just wanna be safe an' warm in de house wit' m' mug and a book. Mebbe someone t' cuddle wit'." Remy shivered and pulled the blanket more tightly around himself.

Storm sighed. "Remy, it's fun."

"Non, chere, it ain't fun! Gods, femme, y' can't maneuver, y' can't run, y' hemmed in on all sides by white stuff that sucks the energy right out of y'. I can't hardly feel m' feet yet. It ain't safe. It ain't fun. Go on back if'n y' want, but Remy's stayin' here."

"As you wish, padnat."

Storm returned to the fight.

*****

A couple hours later, the team trooped inside, greeted by fresh hot chocolate. Gambit poured the mugs without a word. Then, he returned to the baking. It was three days to Christmas. "Don' touch, Robert," he said absently. Iceman pulled his hand away from the cooling chocolate chip cookies.

Logan wrapped his arms around Remy's waist, only to get an elbow in the stomach as the Cajun opened a drawer. "Hey, kiddo."

Remy didn't respond to the soft whisper. Logan caught sight of the simple ring on the slender hand and knew the snit couldn't be serious. On the other hand, though, the boy could sulk like nobody's business.

"Logan's in trouble," Bobby snickered.

"Shut it, Icecube."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Taking bets on how long the Cajun's going to pout," he announced.

Scott considered placing his bet, but Jean headed him off. "Sorry, Slim, you're out. Conflict of interest."

"I don't think so. He won't stop pouting to win a bet for me. Especially not since I'm probably part of the reason for it. Although, I gave him a perfectly reasonable deal over it."

Remy put the next batch of cookies into the oven and started the oven. "Y'r shift, Jean."

"Okay. Is the batter mixed?"

"Just waitin' f' formin' and bakin'."

Warren's brows rose as the thief left. "Three days. Five on it."

"One day, Five." Jean put in her money. She was followed quickly by Storm's 2 hours, Betsy's two days, Bobby's 12 hours, Xavier's 5 hours, and Hank's 36 hours.

"Scott, you're the witness. The professor is holding the money."

"I thought I had a conflict of interest?"

"That was because of your unfair advantage," Jean explained.

"I see." Scott shook his head. "Just for grins, Runt, what's your guess?"

"'Til I get him somethin' that glitters." Logan sighed.

The team laughed, except for Scott who looked speculatively at the Canadian. Logan looked miserable. Scott put his mug in the sink and went to find the thief. He was in luck. The Danger Room was the first place he looked and the Cajun was doing tumbling runs on the mats. Scott watched for a while, admiring the simple, graceful lines. When one of the runs ended up with the thief not six inches away from him, he darted forward to lay a quick kiss on the soft lips.

"So what pissed you off most?"

"Why do y' care?" Remy turned and stepped into his next run. Scott closed his eyes, glad that Gambit couldn't see the action.

"Because I hate seeing you look this way."

Gambit shrugged and went back to his work out.

"Don't lock me out, Remy."

"Why not?"

"Because if something I did put that look in your eyes, I'd be miserable."

Remy laughed at that. "Bullshit, cher. Y' never cared b'fore. And sex don' make that big of a difference t' y'."

"Logan's miserable."

"That ain't my look out." Remy stretched out his muscles as he stopped. "Listen, this ain't somet'in' anyone can fix. It's just me."

"But what started it?"

"It's Christmas."

"And?"

"And it's snowin'."

"And?"

Remy sighed. "And I ain't in a good mood and talkin' ain't gonna help it."

"I think the real answer was, it's almost Christmas. You celebrate it?"

The Cajun snorted, then arched into a very slow walkover that let his shirt fall down to reveal not skin, but more cloth. "Christmas be the only time folks notice the po'."

"I've noticed." Scott shrugged. "Best panhandling, but come on, what's going on in that head of yours."

"Last time I had a real Christmas, I was still livin' wit' Jean-Luc."

"And?"

Remy's eyes dropped as he considered whether or not to answer.

"Please?" Scott asked softly.

"I want t' go home," he whispered finally. "It don' snow at home. Only folks out t' kill m' be m' in-laws. Mattie cooks these cookies that'd make a saint beg. The tree reaches all the way t' the ceilin' an' glitters wit' ornaments so ol' mon pere don' let anyone touch 'em that ain' family. An' he has dis ornament of Henri's mama. I did one of Henri f' him last year, so dey'd match. An' dis year he ain't gonna have any chilen there 'cept Mercy and her petites."

"We can get you there."

"I ain't allowed back! Don' y' get it? I been t'rown out of Nawlin's."

"You took Storm to Mardi Gras."

"Had t' sound out mon pere 'bout takin' a 'prentice." Remy shrugged. "Had t' get special permission f' dat. And I weren't allowed t' go home, only t' a cousin's. Kin's kin, but it ain't the same. I didn' even get t' see Henri. I hadn't seen him f' years b'fore he died out there on the front lawn." Remy shook his head. "Tol' y', ain't you. . . well, it's partly y'. Don' worry so, just give y'self wrinkles and Logan won' like it."

"If you're not mad at Logan tell him."

"Didn' say I weren't mad at him or y' neither, cher." Remy scowled. "Told y' outright I didn' want t' be out there, but y'all pushed it until I couldn't refuse. Merde, boy, I ain't some Yankee that grew up wit' this white shit."

Scott sighed. "When you need to talk, I'm here, okay?"

"Oui, cher. I hear y'. Now, y' get out of here so I can do full out runs wit'out y' starin' at m' ass."

"I don't stare. Well, not often."

Remy looked down his nose at the field leader.

"You're mistaking me for Logan. Logan stares. I don't. I appreciate."

Remy snorted and made a shooing motion with his hand. Scott crossed his arms and leaned against the door. Remy put his hands on his hips. "Out."

"No."

"Scotty."

"No."

"Don' start dis, Cyke. Y' ain't gonna like the outcome."

"I'm just evaluating your battle-ready status. I always look in on individual practices."

Gambit pointed to the control room. "If y' watchin' from up there, I ain't gonna care. But get off m' mats."

"Why?"

"So I don' 'accidentally' hit y'."

"Don't threaten me, Babe. I'll return it in spades."

Remy's eyes narrowed. "Then get out here an' fight, cher."

Scott smirked and toed off his shoes. He stretched as he moved into position. Then, the fight was joined. Gambit tried to draw Cyclops into the center of the mat, but Cyclops was wise to that little trick. It gave the Cajun too much maneuvering room. He'd have to get the younger man's back to a corner, but never to the center of the room. Gambit's eyes narrowed. He had to get Scott away from the walls, but how many blows was he willing to take in order to get a good hold on him and toss him to the mats. The fight dragged on, upper hand changing back and forth in seconds. It was actually on the edge of true violence when Jean stormed into the room and separated them. "Stop it!" she snapped at them. They stood, dripping with sweat and blood. Both men scowled at her. "Look at yourselves! It's almost Christmas and I have to break up what should be just a sparring session!"

"Stop yelling, Jean," Scott said flatly. "Just walk back through that door and let us finish this."

"No way. The two of you are both out for blood. Why?"

"Ain't out f' blood, Jeannie," Remy purred. "Just need it t' be real. This ain't just posturin' in here, chere."

"Yes it is." She stared at them. "Shit, Logan was right. This isn't a fucking wolf pack! Stop this stupidity immediately."

"This doesn't have anything to do with Logan's skewed perceptions of the world," Scott replied. "We're just playing."

"Playing doesn't result in blood and bruises. Don't make me into den mother. I though the two of you knew better."

"Jeannie, chere, listen, this ain't some pack ritual. It's just two hommes fightin'."

"Come out of this room right now." She practically took them by the hand and led them out of the Danger Room and into the den. They sat sulking on opposite sides of the room. Jean closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Logan looked both of them over, then put his hands up.

"This don't involve me and I don't want it to. Just wanna make sure neither of ya comes out of this hurt."

Remy studiously ignored the Canadian. Scott gave him a crooked smile, in deference to his split lip. Hank collared both of them and took them to the med-lab for a quick check-over. He bandaged the various cuts and checked for severe bruising. "I will not let either of you out of this lab without your word of honor that you will not indulge in anything near the violence of this encounter until the new year."

"Fine," Scott said. "You have my word, unless he starts it."

"Oui, Henri, y' got my word wit' the same provision. Beer, cher?" he asked Scott.

"Why not?" They left the lab much to Hank's frustration. "I'm not letting our earlier conversation go, you know."

"Remy jus' can' hit y' f' it no mo'." The thief snorted. "Don' rightly know what t' do 'bout y' sometimes. Y' still owe m' dinner an' dancin'."

"I'll concede, you did come out and play. Why are you so pissed off at Logan?"

Remy sighed. "I don' know. Jus' he's drivin' m' nuts of late. An' I tol' him not t' t'row that damned stuff at m'. Still, that ain' it. Mais, I guess he been treatin' m' like a pup."

"Remy?" Scott pressed when the younger man went quiet.

"He won' kiss me."

"What?" Scott cocked his head to the side.

"It's like he's, merde, after he got the ring on m' hand, he went an' stepped back. An' don't go gettin' all noble and sacrificial on m' 'cause it ain' him wantin' t' get y' int' bed proper." Remy threw the bottlecap into the trash and it exploded with a small pop. Both men stared at the trashcan. Remy looked down at his beer and saw that the bottle was glowing. He took a deep breath, but couldn't manage to pull the energy back. He opened the back door and pitched the bottle into the yard. It blew a hole in the snow, but did no real damage to anything. Scott reached for the thief's arm. "Don' touch m', cher. I ain't been this bad f' a long while. Might hurt y'."

"Logan, come to the kitchen," Scott said into the intercom. Remy was still half out the back door when Logan arrived. He looked at the field leader, frowning. Scott shrugged, helpless.

"Kiddo?" Logan hazarded. He put a hand on the young man's arm. "Rems?"

"Don't. Jus' don't."

"Don't what?"

"Talk, move. Fuck. I can feel it. All of it. The air itself. Leave m' be f' awhile. I'm sorry," he said softly, urgently. "I ain't pushin' y' out, or bein' closed-mouthed or any of the other hundred t'ings I know I do. This is different."

"I'm not lettin' go, Darlin'. Not unless it's hurtin' ya."

"Non, not hurtin', just feelin' y' bones." Remy touched the snow. Logan watched as the snow took on a soft pink glow that spread out to a long narrow patch, like a pathway to the lake. Then, it blew a good five inches deep.

"Better?" Scott asked softly.

"Oui," Remy whispered. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around Logan's neck. The Canadian rocked him, feeling the tremble in his body. Logan tightened his grip and lifted the younger man up. Usually, that got him a laugh. This time, he got a startled wiggle and tightened arms around his neck. "Put m' down, cher," Remy whispered. "Don' mind usually, but not t'night." Logan set Remy onto his feet.

"What's wrong, kiddo?" Logan looked at Scott. Scott shrugged. He was new to the idea of balancing two lovers, but he knew one thing about relationships. You never broke confidences. This was something they'd have to figure out. Remy placed a less than gentle kiss on Logan's lips. Logan gentled the kiss. He pulled back, wanting to see the red eyes. He needed to know whether Remy was really kissing him or just running away from whatever fear was still making his muscles spasm. "Yer gonna have to talk to me sometime."

"Later," Remy lied. He reached out for Scott and the field leader complied. He received a much gentler kiss. "Sorry 'bout the lip."

"Forget it. It was fun."

Logan's brows rose. "That's how you like it, huh?"

Scott snorted. "And I thought I had a dirty mind."

"Come t' bed?" Remy asked bluntly.

Scott blinked, sure his surprise wasn't hidden by the shades he wore. He didn't know how to respond and looked to Logan. The Canadian smiled at him. He offered a shrug with it. "Coming?" Logan asked.

"I guess I am," Scott said. The turn of mood had thrown him off course. It was something he'd learn to deal with he supposed. He smiled and ruffled Remy's bangs before startling Logan, by kissing him softly on the lips. "Thanks."

They proceeded up the stairs to Logan's room and settled into bed. "I'm still mad at y', cher," Remy murmured snuggling between the two men, happily.

"Don't worry, kiddo. I keep emergency glitteries around."

Scott snickered. He felt Remy's hand stroke over his chest, then settle over his heart. "Night, chers."

"G'night, kid," Logan said.

"Night," Scott murmured, finding his own eyes closing without any conscious effort on his part. He stroked Remy's hand with his own.

Logan breathed deeply, reinforcing the smells in his mind. He smiled. His mates were safe and close. He closed his eyes. What else could he want for Christmas?

INIS

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