Remy LeBeau: Here For Your Entertainment. (mssr_lebeau) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-08-24 02:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, remy lebeau (gambit), sharon carter |
Who: Sharon Carter & Remy LeBeau
What: A date with a pretty girl.
When: August 19th, Around 8pm
Where: Newport Beach, surprisingly.
Warnings: PG13 for Language
Status: Completed GDoc
Sharon emailed Remy her address. It was possibly one of the stupidest things she’d ever done. Giving a random stranger on the internet her home address? Meeting someone and making a date online without vetting him first? It wasn’t until after she’d pretty much decided she was going to go out with this guy that she put his name into Google. Then all of her fears about giving out information were sated.
Remy LeBeau was no serial killer. He was not a danger to her. She could tell, after reading articles and blog posts and statistics from his company for half an hour, that he was an upstanding citizen. And he wanted to take her out for drinks. And possibly dancing. The list of places she’d sent to him had a few with live music and dance floors.
So, Sharon pulled on a slinky, floor-length, off-white gown. It had a fairly low cut neck in the front, and showed off a lot of skin down her back. There were rhinestones on it. It was made by some designer or another, and had cost an arm and a leg. This was the last purchase she’d made before leaving New York, and it was a damn good one.
Then she waited. There was a part of her that expected he wouldn’t show.
***
Oh, she would have had plenty of reading to do had she looked him up on google. He was, in fact, an upstanding citizen who did as much charity work as he did business. It was just his way. So no worries, you wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere.
He would arrive sharply at their meeting time, pulled up in a black SUV instead of his sports car. Why? The answer was clear when the driver came around to open the back door and Remy climbed out. It wasn’t a limo, but it might as well have been. The place they were going tonight was a bit of a tight fit around a few corners and his driver had suggested something shorter than a limo. So the Lincoln it was.
The knock on her door was shave-and-a-haircut and he was straightening the labels on his tuxedo. Of course he’d gone all out-- he’d said he would. He aimed to impress. He rarely fell short of that goal. His only fault tonight was that square bandage near his hairline. He'd been in an accident the night previous.
When she answered, he’d give a smile and nod in a clearly improving way, eyes roaming over her a bit too long, but short enough to be socially acceptable.
“Ms. Carter. You look simply ravishing.” He offered a hand palm-up with a smile. Allow him to lead you to the waiting car?
***
Sharon pulled open the door and took in Remy's appearance. He was... exquisite. There wasn't a better word for it. He looked absolutely perfect. She was surprised, a little, though she probably shouldn't be. He had a reputation to uphold, didn't he?
And the way he looked her up and down made Sharon blush deeply. She hadn't been looked at like that in a really, really long time. At least, not by someone from whom she welcomed the attention.
"Thank you, Messr LeBeau," she responded, then reached forward to slip her hand into his. She pulled the door closed behind herself, shawl hanging over and clutch resting inside her opposite hand. "I do hope I'm appropriately dressed for this evening?"
***
“You know..” He’d begin as he curled his fingers around her hand and turned to lead her back down the walk to the black SUV, “I considered asking you to go up and change.” He let that hang for a moment, a smile settled on his face, before he continued, “I really don’t want to be on the evening news because I punched a man for staring a bit too long.” The driver opened the door and the Southern Gentleman would help her in.
The door closed, Remy walked around to the other side and climbed in when the driver opened the door for him. Once that door was closed and they were alone for a moment, he smiled over at her, eyes giving a twinkle of mischief. “But then I thought: Worth it.” It was worth at it just to look at her in that dress all night-- so what if he had to defend her honor a few times?
***
Sharon turned to look at him, curious and concerned, when he mentioned she should change. And then her cheeks flushed a deep pink at his compliment. She couldn't stop a smile from crossing her features--it was shy. She was flattered as she slipped into the car and settled in her chair.
When Remy was in his seat, she turned to look at him, still curious about this gentleman and what they'd be doing tonight. He had some pretty wonderful eyes. A little chuckle escaped her and she shook her head. "You could take me to a gay bar. I have a feeling the only lingering stares there would be ones of envy, rather than lust." She teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.
***
"If we went to a gay bar, I imagine you may be correct. Luckily for me, we aren't." The SUV was taking thm away to their destination with smooth movements.
"You eat meat?" He had assumed. He hoped he was right. "You like the beach?" Again, he had assumed. Poor Sharon was going to be ruined for other men tonight. Remy always made sure of that. His dates were top notch. Always. "I assume you like to dance?" His smile was gentle and reassuring, you had made the right choice coming out with him tonight.
***
Luckily for him? Everything this rather charming man said was confusing and intriguing to Sharon. She watched him with a small smile on her face and then nodded to his questions.
"Yes, I eat meat. And yes, I like the beach. I think you'd be hard pressed to find someone who lives in Orange County and doesn't like the beach." But these questions were making her more and more excited about the night to come. The anticipation was rising. She nodded once more. "And I love to dance. Is that what you’ve got planned?"
***
“Some dinner, some dancing, maybe a bit of the beach.” A bit? It wasn’t long before they pulled up to a small lot, the beach clearly visible from where they had pulled in-- but the SUV kept going, rolling up a small area that was beach access and out into the sand. It wouldn’t take long to see that there was a large blanket laid out in the sand, with a pristine looking basket on one side and what looked to be a cooler on the other.
The driver would open the door and Remy would give Sharon a smile. “You may want to remove your shoes.” He would suggest, before climbing from his side of the car. He wore his shoes-- they weren’t heels.
The driver was then opening the door for her and the red-head was there to offer his hand out and help her from the car, then over to the large blanket. Once she was sitting, he sat down across from her and the driver would pull plates from the basket, as well as glasses and a bottle of wine. Around to the other side where the cooler was, he would open it to reveal it was actually keeping things warm. Some carefully prepared lobster in easy to eat bits, some steak, some oysters, and vegetables. The full plates found home on the top of the basket, which also had a place to set two glasses. The two glasses of wine found their homes there.
The beach, as well, would be quite private. It was owned by a friend of a friend of a business partner and it hadn’t taken him much to secure it.
Once the food was ready and the wine was poured, he’d lift his glass with a smile. “The food is from the Blue Pearl,” a restaurant she had suggested, “The wine is from my own collection.” And it was sweet. Everything he had to drink was sweet.
“Enjoy.” Never let it be said that Remy didn’t do things over the top.
***
Sharon turned to look out the window as they drove out onto the sand. Onto the sand? She wasn't really concerned, she'd seen all kinds of vehicles in both her waking life and Dream life. And Remy was sure to know what he was doing. She looked with bright eyes through the tinted window, and broke into a grin at the sight of the picnic.
She nodded at the suggestion, and slipped off her slinky heels, taking hold of them with her delicate fingers. Then she accepted Remy's hand and climbed out of the car onto the sandy beach--still warm from the hot sun all day. She moved through the sand and sat carefully, the slit on her dress showing off a lot more leg now she was sitting on the ground.
She gasped at the sight of the food, and then accepted the wine glass. Now she was just hoping she wouldn't spill it down her dress. "This is... amazing." She mumbled softly. Then took a deep breath and sat up straighter. "You decided against the list of establishments that I emailed to you, then?"
***
“I decided I wanted a little privacy.” He let his eyes drop down to take note of the way her dress split. “And to see a little more leg.” Oh, there came that charming smile once again. A shameless flirt, this one, and he wasn’t afraid of being bold about his compliments and his.. well, observations. Thankfully, he usually did it in a tasteful manner.
“Do you disapprove?” That he hadn’t taken her somewhere more open and.. well.. crowded. No, he’d decided on something a little more intimate, to give her a little more attention this first time. Next time he’d take her out to a proper restaurant. Tonight? It’d just be the two of them. Much better to.. get to know one another.
***
Sharon glanced down, gave a little laugh--not as embarrassed as she could have been--and reached over to try and shift her skirt into place over her thigh. "Jeez, c'mon, Dress, we just met the guy," she said, teasing, to her clothes. Truth was, she knew she had great legs. Okay, good legs. She jogged, and that helped. They weren't as long as she'd have liked. At least she wasn't wearing the holster on that side.
"Not in the slightest." Sharon lifted the wine glass to him, thankful for the cool, sea breeze against her burning cheeks. "Here's to privacy." She toasted to him. "And to picnics by the sea."
***
If she had been wearing that holster, her dress would be off by now. There was nothing LeBeau loved more than a dangerous woman. Well, except his car. He did love his car more than anything in the world. It was a little sad. He needed therapy.
“The dress knows a good thing when it sees one.” He insisted with a laugh, lifting his wine to toast and smiling over at her, he was such a flirt. But apparently her dress liked that.
“To privacy. And picnics by the sea.” Agreed.
Their meal would be filled with small talk and jokes-- at least from the Cajun’s side. But he was waiting until the meal was over and the driver was cleaning up the plates as Remy slid to his feet and offered both hands down. Just a moment later, music would be coming from the car. He’d tug her into the sand with a more mischievous smile.
“May I have this dance?” Privacy, Sharon. He’d wanted privacy.
***
Sharon couldn't help herself with the meal. It was fantastic. The food was so delicious, she kept warning herself not to eat too much of any one thing. She didn't want to make herself feel uncomfortably full. She stuck with small bites, trying to chat, joke and laugh between them. He was smart and handsome, charming and clever. And she had to admit that she was getting a little carried away. Maybe that was the wine?
Both of Sharon's hands lifted to slip into his. She was wined and dined, satisfied with the food and the company. The conversation over dinner made her much more comfortable with him. Maybe that was the wine. She let him help her to her feet, and took a step closer to him. "You may."
***
Maybe it was the wine-- it was a good year.
When she agreed to dance and allowed him to help her up, he smiled and would slide an arm around the small of her back and bring her in close against him, the other hand taking up her own hand, though he kept their hands in near the shoulder. It wasn’t quite a high school dance, but it certainly wasn’t a waltz.
“You’re a wonderful dancer.” He said closer to her ear, the smile clear in his voice.
***
It'd been a long time since Sharon had had a dance like this. Longer than she cared to admit. Not since before the Police Academy, maybe. That was the last time she'd... well. Since then, everything had been different.
She felt the heat of his body as she stepped in close, allowing him to cradle her against him. His hand felt hot against hers, but there was another sensation. Gentle support, or a soft firmness--if that wasn't an oxymoron. It was just a little awkward to be dancing like this on the beach. Her feet sank with every step, but she managed to keep up. And she was taken slightly aback by the height difference. Sharon wasn't a tiny thing, but she wasn't the tallest woman in the world, either. And Remy was tall.
A little chuckle escaped her at his compliment. She sighed, happily. Almost dreamily. "As are you." She found her body resting against his a little, the warmth between them growing. "...it's not easy to dance on sand."
***
Remy LeBeau wasn’t a short man by any standards, but he knew plenty who were taller. He never thought of himself as a particularly tall man. He did, however, think of himself as a particularly romantic man. So dinner and dancing on the beach? Well, he thought it was a great idea.
“No, I imagine it’s not.” He smiled more and would curl his arm a little tighter around her waist. “If you like,” Remy would begin with a little laugh, swinging her just a little in a playful manner. “You can stand on my feet.” He, after all, was still wearing those seven hundred dollar shoes.
***
The arm up and along his tightened when he swung her around, and her grip went a little sharper. She pressed close against him at the playful twist. She was happy, though, and gave a little laugh to match his. The swinging made her come closer and tighten her arms around him. Which must be why he did it.
Sharon would never have guessed that they were seven hundred dollar shoes. Hers didn’t cost nearly as much, though they were still sitting over by her wrap and clutch. She shrugged one shoulder. “I’d hate to get sand in your shoes,” she said, grinning brightly up at him. “So long as you don’t mind me holding on tight…”
***
She was catching on. Remy had his moves, he was oh so very good at this.
“I don’t think holding you tight will be such a burden on me that I can’t manage it.” A laugh followed and he’d dance her around a few more paces in the sand before that hand slipped from her waist and down over that thigh-- pausing abruptly as he felt the holster on that other side.
Oh.
His eyebrows went up slowly.
“What is that?”
***
Sharon shifted when his hand reached the holster at her side. She didn't have many places to hide something like that wearing the dress she had on. It didn't leave much to the imagination. Though, without running a hand along her leg, it would be hard to notice the gun strapped to her thigh.
"Oh," her face fell a little, and she cleared her throat. She was nervous that it might cause a problem. "I guess it's not normal that girls bring a gun on a date, is it?" She asked. It'd been so long since she'd had one. This definitely wasn't normal, was it? But she just couldn't go without it.
***
“No, it’s not normal that girls bring a gun. In fact, I’ve never had that happen.” But there was a smile on his face and in his voice. “Unless you expected to become another statistic?” A rape? A murder?
“So now I’m curious.” Now? No, he’d been curious for a while, but this was something new and exciting. “Why, exactly, are you carrying a gun? Military? Officer? Deputy? Hired killer?” His smile spread wider with that last one. Really? An assassin?
Why not!
***
Sharon's blush came back in full force. She felt awkward, but not bad, really, about the whole thing. She realized he didn't know anything about her, but that didn't seem to bother him. And that was refreshing. She'd gotten this date on merit alone, and not because of her job, or anything else. Well, merit and looks. That was important to her.
"If I was a hired killer, you'd already be dead." She said, letting the smirk come back to her features, too. "No, Detective. Former. I've just started up something new." The Agency. She had a permit for a concealed weapon, but wasn't sure how much of The Agency's work was private, and how much she was allowed to say. "Is this the 'getting to know you' part of the date where you ask my profession?" She added, teasing.
***
“Unless you weren’t hired to kill me.” Came his simple reasoning, eyebrows lifting in a joking way. He was nothing if not a playful man. “A detective? Now that’s exciting. Now, what could have been so wonderful that you would give up a detective to take a new job? Are you now a skydiving instructor? Secret service agent?”
Giving her another spin around, he’d dip her down and bring his face nearer to hers with a smile. “Not so much ‘getting to know you’ as ‘finding out practical facts’.” Straightening up with her, he’d tilt his head some, that smile still curling his lips. “You don’t ask questions to get to know a person. You watch them. You should know that, Detective. People lie.”
***
"My partner switched jobs, and I'd just had it with the misogynistic tendencies of the old badges in my department. One of the other detectives smacked my backside when I was doing some filing, and I lost it. Gave him a black eye and quit on the spot." Now that she was re-telling the story, it made her sound a little crazy, didn't it? She felt a little crazy. She shouldn't have flown off the handle like that, but Sharon had a passionate streak. A short temper.
And then he was spinning and dipping her. For a moment, Sharon thought he might kiss her in the dip. Her heart skipped a beat. She straightened up when he helped her back up onto her feet. "Maybe that's why I'm better off not being a detective." She said, breaking into a grin. "I like talking too much."
***
Remy prided himself on not being predictable. As if he would kiss her in such a moment. No, if he was going to kiss her, it’d be when she least expected it.
“You know you’re a crazy person, right?” Asked as if he were asking about the weather. It was all in good fun and it came with a smile and a small laugh. Oh, lord. She was feisty. He liked that. “Are you going to punch me in the face if I smack your ass, Chere?” A tease, though he was stopping that dance and just standing with her, intimately near and keeping his eyes locked with hers. He could certainly be intense-- it was intimidating if you were easily intimidated. But she wasn’t.
He was very, very glad for it.
***
Sharon secretly hoped he would kiss her.
She laughed at his question. "I know. I know," she said, going rather pink. She kinda hated herself for everything that'd happened. "Maybe. Depends on if I'm asking for it," she added, raising an eyebrow up at him. She was wrapped up in his arms even if they were simply standing instead of dancing.
"Do you want to smack my ass, then, Messr LeBeau?" She asked, playfully.
***
He would breathe in through his nose as she spoke, that smile curling his lips once again as he thought out his answer for that. “You know, I really do.” Leaning in a bit closer to her as he spoke, bringing their faces near. “It looks so amazing in that dress...” Close enough to kiss.. then he was pulling back some, finally releasing her. “But here I’ve kept you out so late, and on a work night.” A tease. Of course it was. The playboy did like to be unpredictable.
“Let me get you home.” He’d step back and bend to pick up her shoes for her, then offer out his hand. “I can’t have you turn into a pumpkin.”
Tease.
***
He had her undone. He could have done almost anything to her in that moment, and she would have been begging for more. It was romantic and had her heart thundering.
It was the worst tease. When he pulled back, he would likely hear a slight moan escape Sharon. Leave 'em wanting more, eh? He was good at that. Apparently. She cleared her throat and ran her hands over her dress, straightening it out. "You're a naughty man, Messr LeBeau," she added, but moved to pick up her shawl, shoes and clutch.
"Wouldn't want that. I look terrible in orange." She rejoined him a moment later, feeling a little more put together.
***
He was good at that. Always leave them wanting more. “Merci, Chere.” He’d take her hand when allowed, leading her back to the SUV and helping her inside while the driver got the rest of the items and packed them into the back.
“Then we better not do anything illegal. An orange jumper wouldn’t be my style, either.” Lightly joked as he gave her a wink, then closed her door carefully.
He climbed in beside her just a few seconds after and with a rock, the SUV would pull itself free of the sand and take them back to the road.
“Maybe next time, you’ll leave the gun at home?” Of course he was ribbing her. Or was he? At least she knew there’d be a next time.
***
It wasn't like Sharon was likely to do anything illegal. Ever. Well, never say never, right? But she was about as straight an arrow as they come. She smirked at the joke, though. "I dunno. I think you'd just as fantastic in any color."
They were in the back of the car again, and Sharon crossed one leg over the other toward him, getting comfortable. She was feeling tired after the good food, good wine and even better company.
She chuckled. "All right. Next time." If there was a next time. She hoped there'd be a next time.
***
Of course there would be a next time!
It wasn’t long before they got to her home and Remy would get out and open her door for her, then help her from the SUV. He’d keep hold of her hand as he walked her to her door and stood there like a gentleman to wait for her to get the door open. He wanted her safely inside, of course.
“I had a good time tonight, Sharon. Thank you.” There would be no kiss, sorry, Miss Carter, but he only waited with a smile and watched diligently as she opened the door.
***
Sharon let him walk her to her door. Her shoes were back on now, though, giving her a little bit more height. She felt the warmth of his hand, and lingered on her doorstep for a moment.
There was disappointment on her features when she realized she wasn't getting a goodnight kiss. It flickered there for a moment, but she forced it away. Hopefully he wouldn't notice, or wouldn't care.
"It was lovely. Thank you for the dance." And the wine, and the dinner, and everything.
With a smile, she released his hand and opened the door to let herself in. "Good night." She said, before pushing the door closed, leaving him on her front step.
***
And that whole thing about being unpredictable?
A knock came at her door not five seconds later, just long enough to allow her to step away. Surely she would come back and open that door to see what the Hell that Southern man on her doorstep wanted. When she did?
“I almost forgot.” He’d take one step up onto her stoop and lean in to press his mouth against hers.
***
She definitely came back and opened the door, a confused and concerned expression on her face. It was quickly replaced with a smile, and then that was hidden by his mouth against hers. She'd kicked off her shoes in the five seconds between the door's closing and the knock, so she'd lost those extra inches. But that didn't seem to matter. She was kissed when she least expected it, and she liked it.
***
He was good at the element of surprise. So it certainly wasn’t shocking that he kissed her deeply and fully for a good minute or two before drawing back to press a last, brief kiss to her lips, then he released her slowly and stepped back to give a flourish of a bow.
“I look forward to seeing you again.” Straightening up, he’d turn and head back down those steps with a broad smile. Goodnight, Sharon.
***
Sharon was completely unprepared for something like that. Not that it was unwelcome. Actually, she gave another gentle, whimper of a sound when he finally pulled out of the kiss, and it took her a moment for her eyes to open. God, it'd been a long time since she'd been kissed like that.
She simply nodded, a dopey, ridiculous smile on her face, and leaned against the doorframe to watch him go. Oh yes, she was going to watch him go. And enjoy every lingering second.