Remy 'Gambit' LeBeau (got_gumbo) wrote in incompletedata, @ 2017-06-28 17:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | marvel: comics: remy lebeau, supernatural: jo harvelle |
Who: Gambit (616) & Jo Harvelle
What: A walk, some stolen beer, an overall good evening.
When: After this
Where: Outside the train.
Rating: High for Language and Gambit
Status: Closed - Complete
Stale beer (it tasted like piss water, as Natasha had already found out), some comfortable shoes (instead of those dandy wingtips), and lovely company (because, let’s face it, Jo was smoking hot). Those were the perfect ingredients for a lovely evening. Okay, maybe they weren’t. Good beer, a nice booth, and lovely company would have been better. But hey, one out of three wasn’t bad, right?
It didn’t take Gambit long to snag two beers from his train car, tucked delicately into his pillow case to avoid someone else stealing something he’d rightfully stolen. One in each hand, he’d headed up the length of that train to find the girl he’d been talking with. Of course, he had no idea what she’d really look like. No idea what she’d be wearing. No idea what her name was.
And you know what?
That was fine with the Cajun, who had been having a rather interesting night. First, a lovely walk with lil’ Rogue, to the town, a bit of snooping around, and back again. Mostly, he’d gone for her company. Could anyone blame him? It was the woman he loved and there was no amount of her insulting and pushing and denying him that would make it impossible for him to see that she wanted him, too. Gambit liked the challenge.
Then, he’d had that chat with Responsible Jim. A chat which had turned into a walk, which had ended with the two of them rather comfortable with one another, and that was good. Gambit could do with someone on his side around here.
He’d been in a great mood after those two walks, having enjoyed the company and the feeling of not being so completely and entirely alone. So he’d done his best to spread a little of that joy.
And Rogue (he couldn’t call her Big Rogue, she’d break his neck) had sort of ruined a bit of his fun, but Hope had made his evening, and the woman who’d taken him up on his stale beer was certainly a highlight. She was funny, and smart, and could hold her own against him and he liked that. So it was surely no surprise he’d asked her to meet up.
Hey, she’d been flirting with him as much as he’d been flirting with her!
She wasn’t hard to spot, standing outside of the fourth train car. He lifted the beer as he approached, so she’d be able to see it and know who he was. The moon was out, it was full, and the few lights from the train were just enough that they could see one another. Dark enough not to need his sunglasses, but bright enough to identify there was something very wrong with his eyes, though who knew if she’d really be able to squint down and see exactly ,why he looked a little.. Off.
“Come bearin’ beer.” He announced playfully, giving her a sweeping bow before he offered up the sacrificial bottle.
The last few days had been overwhelming for Jo, to the point that she was honestly barely hanging on. Mostly, she was faking that she was okay, pretending that nothing was wrong, and since she didn’t know anyone there aside from their names, well, it wasn’t that hard to avoid questions. At the moment, she was wearing the stupid, gaudy purple outfit she’d shown up in, and had been for a few days, but Jo hadn’t exactly had a chance to go looking for other clothes. It had gotten pretty bloody the night of the fire, and she had washed it after, though even now it still had faint pink splotches in a few places, though that was mostly hidden by the sequins.
She had been taking a short walk while talking to the guy - Remy, no, freaking Gambit from the X-Men (and absolutely another sign that none of this was actually real - over the network, and now was just leaning up against car 4, enjoying the cooler temperatures and the quiet night away from all the “excitement” of the actual circus itself.
When she caught movement from the corner of her eye, the blond’s dark brown gaze shifted, and she pushed off the train car when she spotted him holding up a bottle of beer. Jo gave an easy smile as he reached her, though it slipped for a moment when she caught sight of his eyes and her thoughts flashed back to Thursday - dark pools staring up at her as she forced the bottle through its neck - before she shook her head quickly. That had been a demon. This was Gambit. She knew from the old comics and that cartoon she’d grown up on that he was supposed to have red eyes. He wasn’t a demon.
By the time he spoke, she was smiling again, forcing herself to relax. “That’s the exactly right thing to say,” she told him, smile shifting into a grin as she reached out and snagged the bottle, then studied it with a bartender’s curiosity. If it was as old as it looked, she had a feeling the beer would be more than stale, as he’d claimed.
“Nice to meet you in person.”
“Oui.” He agreed, popping the top off, before he extended out the little bottle opener to the younger woman. He hadn’t opened it for her because he wanted to make sure she knew he hadn’t tampered with it in any way. Gambit didn’t have to drug ladies to get them to climb into bed with him, thanks-- not that he expected she was going to climb into bed with him. Of course, every man hopes that the stunning woman he meets with want to hop on for a ride immediately, but that was a pipe dream for most men. It was usually fives that were willing to go home, not tens. And this blonde?
She was a ten.
“Remy LeBeau.” He introduced, finally, extending out a hand to her. His gloves had been long abandoned, especially with all of these funny clothes he had been given to wear.. But still, he looked good and he knew it. Gambit looked great in purple. And pink, come to mind. “Take it y’ in Novemb’r block, non?” Owed to her purple outfit, that was.
Good, it meant they’d be in the same housing structure when they got back to normal-- not that Gambit knew anything about normal for this place.. He hadn’t even had a chance to make it to the actual rooms yet. Well, at least he wouldn’t be disappointed in those. They were his style.
“Where y’ from?” Full of questions, this one. Eager to listen, less eager to talk.
Jo took it with a nod of thanks, appreciating that he didn’t automatically offer to do it for her. Too many guys did to the point where that was generally just annoying instead of chivalrous. Popping open the bottle, she lifted it for a smell, then took a long sip. As she lowered the bottle again, the blonde shook her head as she made a face. “Wow, that really is horrible.”
Her eyes shifted back to him and she took the hand after a moment of hesitation. “Jo Harvelle,” she replied. Her voice had a very slight hint of a country twang, but that was the only thing that showed any sign of where she was from originally. Glancing from his clothes down to her own two piece get-up, she gave a shrug, then nodded. “Seems that way, though what difference does it make around here? Do they assign us stuff based on that?”
A the question about where she was from, Jo leaned against the train car again, holding the beer at her side instead of taking another drink right now. “Nebraska, originally. But I’ve traveled around some. You?”
Her admission that the beer was horrible caused the Cajun to laugh and he shook his head some, moving his bottle out to tap the bottom of it against hers and toss a wink in her direction. “Only ‘de best, non?” With that, he took a swig of his own. Yeah, it tasted terrible, but he’d already had a few so he knew what to expect. It was great seeing it on her face, though. Yeah, it was horrible.
“Oui, oui.. Colors define wha’ group we in.” He gestured absently down to his purple pants, the white t-shirt he was wearing was a fluke, but hey. He looked good no matter what. “Purple means y’ in Novemb’r, wit’ me. Gonna be bunk buddies.” His beer was lifted for that, as if it were some part of a toast. Something to celebrate. And, who knows, maybe it was.
“C’mon.” He’d jerk his head some to the side, causing his hair to swing a little into his face, a few strands slipping free of his sunglasses. He’d lead them over to a pair of abandoned chairs. They were still warm from the small fire someone had started, though it was beginning to die down. The night wasn’t too chilly, so Gambit wasn’t inclined to do much other than poke at the fire to get it going again, before taking up one of those chairs for himself and stretching out long legs, crossing them at the ankle.
Yeah, he was barefoot and wandering around outside. He didn’t mind it at all, not like he expected to have to run for his life any time soon.
“Oh, N’braska? Too col’ up ‘dere.” Another sip of the beer before he lowered it down and gave it a swirl. “Lou’siana.” Responded in kind. As if she couldn’t tell from that English, French, bastardized mess he called an accent. Hell, people could spot him half a mile away and know just what swamp he’d crawled out of -- or so Logan had told him. A little smirk crossed his face as he thought back to him. He hoped they were doing okay.
Jo actually stuck out her tongue at his words about the beer being only the best, but didn’t comment on it, but she did grin at the “bunk buddies” comment. “There are five groups, right? Pretty sure I’ve only seen five main colors around. Are all the group names military sounding?” That had to be a clue as to whoever had done all this, right? Unless it was some bizarre afterlife, in which case none of it really mattered in the long run.
Pushing her own slightly sweaty blonde strands back from her face, she pushed off the train car a second time and followed him over to the chairs. After dropping into the one beside him, she lifted the beer for another drink and made a small face a second time after it was lowered. Inwardly she hoped she wouldn’t get too used to this stuff.
“It’s only cold about half the time,” she shrugged. “And at night. The area I grew up was pretty much a desert-type, so summer was worse than winter.” Shifting her gaze over to him, Jo smiled. “Really,” she said dryly. “I never would have guessed. Were you there all your life?”
When she stuck her tongue out at him, Gambit couldn’t help his sudden, loud laughter. It was unexpected enough that someone from inside the car griped and shouted for the two of them to keep it down. The Cajun only shrugged up his shoulders and grinned like a certified maniac at the pretty blonde sharing a drink with him. Oh, he’d needed this little break. Pardon him having such a good time while in captivity and being forced into strange experiments. He’d been through worse things and this certainly wasn’t taking the cake, so there was no reason to be so very serious about it. When the shit hit the fan, Gambit might take it more seriously. Until then?
Well. He could enjoy it a little.
“Oui, five. Novemb’r, Mike, Echo, Hotel an’ Romeo.” All military names. “Each gotta differen’ color.. Jus’ know Novemb’r’s color, ‘dough.” For obvious reasons. “Coul’ be worse. Coulda put me in green.” And with his red hair? Well, it’d be Christmas time year round, and no one wanted that.
“Mosta m’ life. ‘Til I was ‘bout eighteen, ‘den kinda started travelin’ ‘round.. Went back two years ‘go, been ‘dere ever since.” His traveling days were over-- or so he thought. He’d retired back to his Guild, leaving the X-Men in his dust. It wasn’t that they were bad.. It was that they were too good. Too good for the likes of the Thief, and they acted like it. Sure, a few of them were great, but the others? Well. He wasn’t welcome and he knew it.
And Remy had no interest in being somewhere he wasn’t welcome.
“What year was it, where y’ come from?” People seemed to be from all different times and places, he doubted Jo was any different.
Jo enjoyed the sound of his laughter, and it drew an answering smile from her, despite the fact that she knew he was laughing at her. It didn’t really matter in the long run, and it was nice to see someone around here was sort of happy, right? Even if it was temporary. This was just too bizarre in general, and at least focusing on Remy meant that she could hopefully ignore her own issues with, well, everything.
“I wonder how they decide that kind of thing,” she mused, absently reaching down to rub a spot on her leg through the skirt. “Personally red’s my favorite color,” and it would have done a better job of hiding the demon’s blood the other night. “But I can see why you wouldn’t want to be in green,” she said lightly.
Her dark eyes studied him as he talked about where he was from and what he’d done, a part of her just enjoying the accent because no lie, it was pretty hot. Jo ws in no way ashamed to admit that. At the question, she set her beer down by her chair and thought for a moment because that really wasn’t a question she’d expected, but if time travel was a part of all this...well, it made sense in the long run.
“2009. It was November,” she said softly. Even talking about the date reminded her of everything else that had happened that night, and it was way too soon for her to deal, so she looked away and up to study the sky instead.
“Oui, dunno how ‘dey decide who’s goin’ where, but clearly ‘de purple team got ‘de best taste.” Because it had the two of them in it. Duh. Gambit thought he was clever. Oh, who was he kidding, he was clever. The grin on his face stated that he thought as much, even as he took another swig of that piss-water. Oh man it was bad. He choked it down like a pro.
“Two-thousan’ fifteen, f’ me.” So he was a bit ahead of her. Not too much, it wasn’t as if he was from the 25th century or anything.. But it was a little leap. It was pretty telling for the former X-Man, who had his own theories about this place.. None of them particularly brilliant, and thus not to be shared. He wasn’t the brains of the operation all the time, he had people to do those sorts of calculations for him. He just rain the joint, thanks.
“Somethin’ happen?” She looked pensive all the sudden, as if she was thinking back on a memory she’d rather not remember at all. He, of course, could only ask the question and lean a bit closer to her, eyebrows lifted up in a curious fashion. “Didn’ get yanked ‘way from really good sex, did’ja?” A little quip thrown in, just to keep it light.
For a long minute, Jo was silent, though his quip had her smiling a little, but it faded quickly. Finally, as though just realizing he was probably still waiting for a response, she glanced over at him and gave a half shrug. “I wish,” she admitted. “But...no. Pretty sure I was dying. Or died.” One hand idly brushed across her stomach - bare, courtesy of the November outfit - and free from any wounds or even a scar. She glanced down at where her hand rested, then looked back up at the sky.
“So this all...it doesn’t feel real. Do we even know if it is? Does anything that we even do here actually matter or is it just some weird afterlife or dream?” Okay, the conversation had definitely taken a darker turn, but he had asked and Jo wasn’t really at the point of being able to joke about it all just yet.
“Pretty sure ‘dat I ain’ dead, Chere, so y’ can prolly cross ‘af’erlife’ off y’ list of thin’s.” Because Remy LeBeau was alive and well, thanks. He had been planning his next month of business. He hadn’t even been doing anything exciting. In fact, there were few things so boring as doing the books and planning for the coming month. So unless a plane had landed on his home, he wasn’t dead.
“Why y’ feel like y’ gotta question it? Mean.. y’ here. Y’ can feel. Can touch. Can taste. Y’ know what’s goin’ on ‘round ya..” The Thief rolled his shoulders up gracefully and smiled over at her, tipping his mostly empty beer bottle. “An’ even if y’ were dead.. Y’ aint anymore. ‘Das a gift, not a punishment, chere.” Maybe it wasn’t real, maybe it didn’t feel real, but it had everything necessary to prove it was real.
Of course, that was something she’d have to figure out for herself.
“C’mon.” He said after a moment’s pause, taking a swig of his beer before setting it down and standing. A hand was offered down to her. Up on your feet, Jo.
“It’s just all….so weird. Beyond my normal level of weird. I feel like there’s this line that I’m okay with and this place - “ And half the people there, most of whom were fictional and shouldn’t actually exist - “crosses that a bit.” She shook her head before shifting her gaze as he went on. “Maybe it is a gift,” she said slowly, though it was obvious she wasn’t sure. After all - she was part of an experiment, and she’d already killed some poor possessed guy - or a demon - the other night. Was that really a gift?
Her gaze followed him as he stood, then dropped to his hand. After a minute, she reached out and slid her own into it and moved to her feet. “Where are we going?”
“‘Course it’s a gift.” As she took his hand he carefully helped pull her to his feet, then tugged her in closer to his body and slipped his free hand to the small of her back and began to move them in a slow dance. In the stillness of the night there was the soft tune of someone in one of the cars playing a guitar softly and Gambit was going to take advantage of it.
There was no need to let good music go to waste!
“Wha’cha do ‘fore y’ come here, chere?” Assuming Jo allowed him to draw her into this small dance, he’d ask his next question with a smile, “Somethin’ tells me y’ weren’t a school teacher, non?” If she had a level of weird, she was probably somewhat like Gambit. She didn’t exactly have a normal day job.
Jo honestly thought they were about to go walking somewhere, and so when she was pulled into an embrace next to the dwindling fire, she froze for a moment, more than a bit surprised. In all honesty, she wasn’t really much of a dancer - mostly due to a lack of opportunity...but this wasn’t really all that hard and it was just this side of that line of weird that she inwardly figured What the hell?
Lifting her arms to lightly drape them over his shoulders, she gave a grin of her own, thinking about his question for a moment. “When I needed money, I was a bartender. But what I did...” Jo trailed off, then gave a small shrug.
“Would you believe that I hunted monsters?”
“Oui, would b’lieve ‘dat.” Because Gambit had fought his share of monsters. Aliens. You name it, he’d fought it. Or fought beside it. He wasn’t particularly firm in his stance of sides. Whatever was best at the time would work. “Kinda like Buffy ‘de Vampire Slayer, non? Pretty girl, chasin’ monsters.. S’kinda hot.” The smile that curled his lips was playful, but he was so very serious. His tone said as much.
“Wha’cha do here, anyway? Everyone seem t’ have uh job.” Gambit himself was just working on the Midway.. Mostly he was working for himself. He wasn’t great with authority, especially these people who wanted to hurt them, make them do insane things.
They hadn’t asked him to do anything insane yet, but he knew others had been asked.
She was pleasantly surprised that he automatically believed her, because Jo was used to people, especially men, underestimating her. So this was actually a nice feeling. “Without the superpowers to go with it...plus, I’m pretty sure Buffy wasn’t a fan of guns, and I feel a lot better with a shotgun in my hands.” Jo gave a rueful smile. “I’d feel a lot better if I had one around here, to be honest.”
At the question, she shook her head. “Texas rough rider, apparently...which is a new one on me, because I’ve never been on a horse in my life. With my luck I’ll probably end up on the ground more than on the back of a horse.” But she knew she’d have to get to work on that a little more pretty soon, if she really would have to be “performing” soon.
“What about you?”
“Guns? Ain’ never fired uh gun.” Remy admitted with a soft chuckle. “Shoul’ teach me some time.. I’ll teach y’ how t’ cheat at cards.” He imagined she already knew how to play-- such a kick ass woman-- but it wasn’t likely she knew how to cheat. She seemed the good sort, after all.
He’d turn them and give her a little spin, before dipping her and lingering close for just a moment. “Texas rough rider soun’s like fun. Y’ lemme know if y’ need any lessons on ridin’, chere. Happy t’ help.” His tone was suggestive. His smile was genuine. It was so hard to tell with the Cajun, who often made himself a plethora of contradictions just for the fun of it. Just to see what people would do, how they would react. Or, to keep them at arm’s length.
“M’ jus’ in charge of some ‘de games on ‘de Midway, ain’ nothin’ big.” It was easy. He was charming and could encourage people to do just about anything. Just one of his many talents.
Slowly, he brought her back up out of that dip and began their dancing again, just slow and easy. He wasn’t trying to spook her, or get her worked up.. He just wanted to have a little fun.
The smile she gave him at the offer was perfectly innocent, but if he looked closely at her eyes, he’d see a mischievous glint. “I’d be happy to trade skill for skill,” she said easily. He didn’t need to know she’d spent more than half her life swindling hunters out of their money for years at poker in her mama’s taproom. Remy could learn that the hard way some other time. “I’d just need to get my hands on a gun.”
As he spun and dipped her, she expected him to pull her back up right away, and her breath caught when he kept them in that position a little longer than expected. Her smile shifted to a faint smirk despite the fact that her hands tightened behind his neck instinctively so she wouldn’t slip - not that she thought he’d drop her. Jo spoke almost without thinking, deciding on a whim to take him up on the offer. “Anytime you’re free, I’m willing,” she told him, just as suggestive.
Her arms relaxed again once she was vertical once more, and she took the opportunity to shift her grip just a little, which moved her closer to him. “Must be fun though, running the games. You get the chance to wander around and see who all shows up for this thing.”
“No guns here, chere.” The Cajun purred out, which could have been so very clean.. Or so very dirty, depending on where the mind ran as he spoke. Shameful thief. He certainly wouldn’t mind trading skills for skills, especially if they were of that nature.
“Anytime you willin’, m’ free.” He’d make it so. Any man with eyes and testosterone would make time to spend with Jo. She was stunning, she was graceful, and she was tough.
And there was absolutely nothing Gambit loved more than a woman who was able to knock him around just a little. He had no doubt Jo could do just that. She might not necessarily win against him in a knock-down-drag-out, but she could send him home sore, he was sure.
That was such a turn-on.
“Oui, fun. Get t’ wander, get t’ take a few thin’s here an’ ‘dere.. Get t’ make nice wit’ ‘de locals.” Even if they were rather strange and plastic seeming. “Dunno how often y’ gonna get t’ spend time wit’ all ‘dem adorin’ fans y’ gonna have.” The circus-goers, of course. Once they saw her ride.
At the moment, no one in there right mind could be accused of having a clean mind just now, not if they were here, in this moment, in Remy Lebeau's arms. Sure, Jo was more than a bit starstruck, but to be honest she was really just enjoying the chance to not think about anything else. If there was one good thing about this circus - aside from the task they'd given her - she could pretend she was someone else, even if it was just for a few minutes.
Her eyes were locked on his even as she cocked her head slightly, willful stubbornness keeping her bravado up as she decided to just go for it. “What if I said I was willing right now?” Because she was. Definitely.
At his mention of her fans, she gave a good-natured eye roll and shook her head a bit. “I’m not planning on getting all that close to those people.” Especially if they were demons. “But you must have picked up some interesting trinkets if you’ve been stealing from them.”
“‘Den I’d take y’ somewhere a lil’ more private an’ we coul’ have ‘dat lesson righ’ now.” Remy LeBeau was always willing to serve-- well. Mostly. Okay, only sometimes. He wasn’t as big of a manwhore as he liked to pretend he was.. He certainly wasn’t a cheater so when Rogue and he were an item (on again, off again), he was with her exclusively. Not.. that they were really ever with one another. Those were freak occurrences due to lost powers. And when they weren’t together? He was often too heartbroken to do much at all.
But he’d had his fair share of other women, even considering all of that. He liked women. He liked Jo. He liked the idea of taking Jo somewhere private and having some good old-fashioned adult fun.
“Non, prolly for ‘de best.” That she not get too close. Casually, a hand strayed down to slip over her rear end and rest there, the smile never leaving Remy’s face. “Oh, all kindas thin’s. Jus’ don’ tell no one. Our secret, non?” Else he’d get yelled at. Surely Hank knew who was responsible for it.. And it wasn’t just Rogue’s monkey.
“Maybe we should,” she drawled just a little, then smiled a bit. If she was dead, this was all weird anyway. But if she was alive? It’d been a while and he had a few points in his favor: first, he wasn’t a Hunter. Second, he wasn’t anyone who would probably be afraid of her mom if she happened to show off, because if there was one thing Ellen Harvelle was good at, it was blocking her daughter. And third - he wasn’t Dean Winchester, which was a whole other issue she wasn’t even slightly ready (or willing) to get into.
As his hand shifted, Jo’s smile widened a little and she leaned in towards his ear, whispering softly, “Lucky for you, I know how to keep a secret.” As she drew back, Jo made a split-second decision and changed direction, angling her head a tad and moving onto her toes just a bit so that she could press her lips to his.
Well that was a welcome advance. Remy took it with gusto and slipped his other hand down as well, so he had both hands on her rump, and could lift. Sliding her body along his, he’d lift her up high enough she could wrap her legs around his waist-- he lifted her like she was nothing at all. He’d carry her like she was nothing at all. Just a slip of a girl-- and she was.
Now, Gambit was no Steve Rogers. He wasn’t a triangle on legs. He was strong, but more compact. Built more like a dancer than a weight lifter. Muscle was plentiful but lithe, his body was toned, not ripped, and there were no popping veins to speak of. Just a man who took care of himself and certainly ran more than he likely should have.
Hey, half of being a thief was running!
Kiss allowed to break, the Cajun rumbled deep in his chest and smiled, dark eyes half-lidded in pleasure. “You sure ‘bout ‘dis?” A last double check before he’d carry her into the night and enjoy the spoils of war.
The lift made things a helluva lot easier - and it helped that he wasn’t the only one here with lithe muscles. Her legs settled easily into place around his hips while her hands shifted to grip his shoulders to help with balancing - though at the moment her mind was more focused on what her mouth was doing. And what his mouth was doing. Her eyes slid shut as the kiss continued for several seconds, and she barely kept herself from making any sounds of disappointment when he broke it for the question.
Reopening her eyes, the blonde met his gaze for a moment, and she didn’t bother changing her mind. Nodding, she gave him a smirk. “Yeah, I am,” Jo said firmly, moving the fingers of one hand into his hair so that she could tug him back in for another kiss. She was done with talking. And hey - this would help get the taste of that awful beer out of both of their mouths.
She certainly tasted far better than any beer Remy had ever had the pleasure of partaking in. With her final consent, the Cajun would lean back in to reclaim her mouth. A few steps forward would have him running into one of those chairs-- oops-- and knocking it over. It caused the kiss to break, courtesy of his soft chuckle, and he’d maneuver around and away from the train car. Hell, he’d carry her all the way to the nearest secluded spot, stealing kisses the entire way there.
A small circus tent where the food supplies were kept, all boxed up neatly and set to the side, even containing a small crate that was full of gallons of water. The lid was on, though slightly askew, and that was where Gambit would aim. Sure, he tripped once on the rug that lined the floor but he easily and gracefully caught himself, never in danger of falling, and he deposited her her there atop the crate, putting her at counter-height.
The perfect height.
And with Jo comfortably arranged, Remy’s next order of business was getting her shirt off.
What? He was a boob man. It was something she’d soon find out.