Who: Rose Hathaway & Remy LeBeau When: September 14 *BACKDATED* Where: Rose’s Place What: Remy brings Rose some ice cream Rating/Warnings: PG13 for Language Status: Completed
Rose wanted ice cream and a distraction -- ice cream was easy, he simply stopped by his favorite ice cream place, asked for the special mix to be made, and climbed back in his car-- distraction was even easier, that was just his personality.
He was one of the most distracting people alive.
It didn’t matter that it was getting late and he had to get up in the morning and fly to New York, he’d just make sure he didn’t stick around too long. And he’d try to make sure he didn’t end up getting punched. He didn’t need a bruise for his photo shoot with GQ.
Pulling up in front of her house (he’d even let her text him the address instead of figuring it out himself), he’d climb out of the car-- his ribs still hurt-- and would head up the walkway and to her door. Pausing there, he’d knock on the door, then step back and lift the bag holding the gallon of ice cream. “I come bearing gifts.” He’d call towards the door. ** If he thought his ribs hurt then he wasn’t fully prepared for how sore Rose was. Every part of her body ached and she really didn’t mind it since it went along with the job, but when she could barely walk to the front door to greet him she knew it was going to take some time to heal up. There were bruises all over her body and she wanted those gone so she wouldn’t look a fright once she was able to move around and wanted to go out in the world again. But she relished them because they were signs of a victory and she was proud of herself.
She heard the voice calling out to her about gifts and she chuckled to herself as she slowly made her way to the front door. She opened it up and regarded Remy with a bag of ice cream in his hands and smirked a little. Her brown hair was up in a tight bun and there were a couple bruises on her face, but the rest were covered with a light t-shirt and yoga pants, “I can’t say no to gifts. Come on in and excuse my old lady walk for the moment.” When he stepped inside she moved to close the door behind him. ** At least she had a good story behind her bruises. His broken ribs were just an angry Rogue.
“Hey,” He’d say with a smile as he was invited in. “I happen to like young, attractive women with an old lady walk.” He’d step inside and turn to watch her close the door, then took a few steps backwards. “So I brought you ice cream. And good company.” He’d give her a wink, then turn and head into her kitchen as if the home was his own. He’d put the white carton down and look through her cabinets until he found two bowls. Drawers were tugged open until he got to the spoons, and he was opening the ice cream and beginning to dish it out. Pale blue with white flecks in it.
“It’s called Smurf. Blue raspberry and marshmallows. It’s the most amazing thing ever. I love marshmallows.” This was his bad thing for the day. He really shouldn’t eat it so late, but.. eh. **
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that before, but it sounds interesting,” she couldn’t help but grin at how excited he was about this. She had watched him go into the kitchen and grab everything they needed and he looked like he knew what he was doing, so she resisted the urge to tell him where things were. And knowing that he liked marshmallows was an amusing fact that she filed away for later.
She hobbled her way over to the couch that she was sitting on earlier that had a heating pad and couple ice packs around it. Her body was starting to feel a little better, but she needed to make sure to rest up in order to get it back to normal in a few days. She rolled up her pant leg to better place an ice pack on a nice bruise behind her knee, “Thank you for bringing it over. That’s really sweet of you.”
**
“I’m a sweet guy.” He’d say with a smile from the kitchen, but he’d soon be bringing out the two bowls, handing one carefully to her before taking a seat beside her on the couch. He’d let his eyes roam over her face only once he was sitting, a gloved hand coming up to gently push a few strands of hair from her bruised face.
“You look perfect.” Even bruised. “I expect to see more bruises later, after the ice cream.” He pulled his hand away and settled more comfortably against the back of the couch and would take a bite of his ice cream-- don’t mind his gloves in this hot weather, Rose, it was just something he wore to, you know, keep him from blowing up the ice cream.
And you.
**
“I look like shit,” she responded instantly with a slight laugh and a small blush on her cheeks from the gentle way he brushed her hair away, “You don’t have to lie. I mean, I’ve looked worse before, but right now looks pretty bad. But that’s what happens when it’s your first big fight. At least now I’ll know what to do to help get rid of these bruises. I’ve got a couple new things of concealer to try out for my face.”
But she wasn’t going to worry too much about it. It was natural and thankfully she wasn’t one who bruised easily, so she got these from a hard won fight. Right now her only focus was healing up so she could train and the attractive man sitting beside her on the couch. She took a bite of the ice cream and made a noise of approval, “Mmm, this is good. Is this how you get those dozens of girls you sleep with, Remy? Bringing over ice cream in the middle of the night?” There was a playful tone to her question, hoping he wouldn’t be terribly offended, but she had read that tabloid fodder and wondered how much of it was true.
**
Remy was impossible to offend.
“Dozens of women and men.” He’d correct her with a smile. “I’m surprised I didn’t read anything about trees and apple pies.” He took a bite and smiled slowly, but shrugged in a graceful manner. “Oui. The ice cream is spiked. I get them drunk on the ice cream and then I take advantage of their supple young bodies. It’s the only way I can get laid. I’m like Quasimoto over here.”
Clearly a joke, he didn’t even have to be grinning like a fool for it to be identified as a joke.
** “Clever, no one would ever suspect you. Good work,” the comment about him being like Quasimoto had earned a snort from her and she couldn’t believe he had just brought up the Hunchback of Notre Dame in conversation. She suspected this Skeeter woman was full of it, but there had to be some underlying truth to the nature of what she reported. Remy wasn’t the type to be celibate, but she doubted he had that long of a string of lovers around the OC.
“But now you’ve revealed your secret plan to me and I may have to put out a warning on the network to never accept ice cream from Mr Remy LeBeau.” ** “Thank you, thank you. I’m a master at the art of getting pretty young things drunk.” Which.. wasn’t exactly a lie. He’d gotten plenty of people drunk before, but it wasn’t for sex, just for a good time at a party.
Remy didn’t sleep with anyone under the influence of alcohol.
Like he needed the scandal.
“I have revealed my plan, but as I’m very good at being an evil super villain, I’ve also put in a little something to make you forget my evil plans, so you can’t tell anyone else.” Ah, yes, of course. **
“Well, then it sucks for you that somewhere in this room I’m secretly recording this conversation,” she countered as she ate another bite of ice cream. She held the spoon her mouth as she smirked and raised her eyebrows at him. He knew she wouldn’t do anything like that, but it would work well in this villain vs hero showdown fantasy they were producing.
“But seriously, this ice cream is really good. I never would have come up with this combination. And where in the world did you get a gallon of ice cream? My poor roommate is going to be stuck helping me eat all of this after you leave.” ** “Touche.” Remy remarked with a grin, winking at her and taking another bite of the ice cream. “Then I officially retract my previous statement and would like to say that I have the utmost respect for all women. Whether they put out or not.” He lifted his ice cream bowl like it was a drink and he was toasting.
“I have a guy.” Remy always had a guy. For everything. Anything. Ask him, Rose, you want something weird? He had a guy. You want something rare? He had a guy. You want something not for sale? Well, he had a guy for that, too.
Sometimes, he was the guy.
“And there’s nothing wrong with ice cream, it keeps and she’ll enjoy it. Besides, best to keep your freezer full, it keeps the electric bill down.” By pennies, but.. whatever! ** “Good, you should have the utmost respect for women at all times,” she raised her bowl as well before eating another bite. She shifted slightly in her seat trying to get comfortable, “Should I be worried about your mysterious ‘I have a guy’ answer? Because I’m starting to feel like we’ve moved into mobster territory here.”
Thankfully she would probably never ask him for anything that would enlist the help of ‘this guy’ and if she knew how much he could get she would probably be a little surprised and slightly scared.
“And there isn’t. I just hope she doesn’t mind the flavor. She can be picky sometimes. So, what else do you want to do besides sit here and eat ice cream? And if you say sex I might smack you with an ice pack.” *** "Nah, he's a good guy. All mostly legal transactions." He gave her a wink followed by a smile. It was a joke. But he wasn't lying. Strange Cajun and his pretend Southern accent.
"I'm picky." Now that was a lie. "But I love smurf." Best ice cream ever. "So will she." Right, because everyone loved what he loved.
Though, when she asked about what he wanted to do, he opened his mouth, she made her threat, and he closed it. Huh. "Well, not sex, that's for sure!" He broke into a smooth grin and tilted his head just so. "How about you show off a few of those bruises. And I'll show you my broken ribs." Tit for tat! *** “How in the world did you get broken ribs?” She furrowed her brow when he mentioned that. Luckily her ribs weren’t broken from the fight, but she did have a nasty bruise running along the side of her body. Hell, she had nasty bruises everywhere and she was always surprised when she found a plain patch of skin.
“And maybe I’ll show you. But, if I show you then you have to help rub this stupid cream onto the bruise so it will fade faster. And you’re not allowed to be mean and poke at my bruise while you do it. Because I can break your arm,” she commented with a smirk as she grabbed the arnica cream off the side table and handed it over to him. She had no issue undressing in front of him because she wore very little when she was in the gym. It was just a body. *** “Remember a week or two ago when everyone had trouble sleeping, or had bad dreams, or.. slept too much? Well, a young woman I know was having hallucinations and when I came to check on her, she attacked me. I don’t know who she thought I was, but she tried to tear me to pieces.” And had broken his ribs in the process.
“I’ll help you with the stupid cream if I must.” A little smile was curling his lips, but he was considering the gloves he was wearing.
Did he really want to take them off?
Eh, worth it.
He’d finish off his ice cream and set the bowl aside, then tug his gloves off and carefully take the cream. He considered it for a long moment before deciding it was somehow safe to hold, and would open the little jar.
“What, no dance?” Asked of her casual stripping. *** “Yeah, that was kind of strange. Apparently that sort of thing just happens around here. I don’t understand how people can just live here while that’s happening. I’m almost tempted to hightail it out of here and be done with it all. But I’m sorry to hear about your friend and being attacked.”
“And you don’t have to if you’re going to whine about it,” she teased him before taking the last bite of her ice cream. She set the bowl on the side table and then shifted slightly so she could lift her shirt up and tuck the bottom of it underneath her bra. There was a nasty bruise running the length of her side and covering the majority of her skin. That girl had kicked - hard - and did some damage, “And you’re going to have to do more than buy me ice cream if you want a dance.” *** “Yeah, it wasn't that big of a deal. She got lucky.” He hadn’t been willing to fight back.
Cream in hand, he’d begin slowly, carefully applying it, fingers trailing and lingering perhaps a bit more than they should be. But she didn’t seem to mind it too much.
“Did you win?” He imagined, with these bruises, that she may not have. Well, unless the other fighter looked much worse.
“Anything more than ice cream is only for winners.” A light tease. ** His touch did cause a slight shiver to run down her spine and some goosebumps broke out over her skin. If commented on she would probably cite the coldness of the cream on her skin as the cause.
"Well, it's a good thing I give more than I take," she commented back just as teasing as he had been, "I did win and I am sure the black eye she is sporting, among other bruises, is worse than this."
** Remy wouldn’t mention that shiver. He knew what it was from and it made him smile, then he was pulling his hands away and rubbing them together to get rid of the rest of the cream on his own hands. “I bet you do.” Give more than she takes.
He’d relax back into the couch with a grin. “I’d offer to stay the night tonight, crash on your couch and keep away the bad spirits.” As if he were some of talisman, “But I didn’t bring a change of clothes.” And it was getting quite late. ** “I would offer you something of mine, but if your ass looks better in my yoga pants than mine does then I’m going to do some serious questioning,” she answered him with a bit of a smirk as she fanned where he rubbed the cream in so it would dry faster, “Besides, my roommate will be home in a few hours, I think. She’s probably working on a project at her school’s library.”
When it felt dry she rolled her shirt back down, “Need me to rub any of this on you? It’s really helpful.” ** “Hey, my ass looks amazing in anything. And nothing.” He couldn’t stop flirting. He just couldn’t. Could she blame him? She was gorgeous. And she meshed so well with him. They just.. got on. It was refreshing.
“No, I’m alright, but thanks for the offer.” He had no interest in letting anyone see the damage beneath his suit, it’d heal up in time, but he had no desire to look weak until then.
Remy LeBeau was not weak. He was invincible. And everyone would do best to remember that.
“Would she freak out if she got home and there was a strange man here? Would it result in an argument and eventual girl fight in a kiddie pool of chocolate syrup? ** "No, no, and no. I don't own a kiddie pool or the amount of chocolate syrup it would take to fill that pool. I just feel a little guilty if I have people over when she gets home from doing school things. She would probably like to relax and sleep more than entertain my guests."
It has taken Rose some time to figure that one out and she was more in tune with the nuances of their friendship now. Rose wanted to make sure she was a good friend, "But if you get bored and buy those things I would think about trying it out." ** “I will buy them tomorrow.” Said with a pleased smile, but then he was pushing up from the couch and pressing his hands back into his gloves. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to call me or text me some time.” Contact him directly and personally, that was. “It doesn’t mean you’re giving into my incredible good looks or my animal magnetism. It just means.. you want to hang out.” Oh, the grin that followed was nothing sort of devilish.
But he was flying to New York in the morning and as much as he wanted to stay, he was going to have to get home. He needed his beauty sleep, after all. ** "Keeps the mystery alive if I don't bother to contact you anyway," she explained with a raised eyebrow and mischievous grin on her lips, "But I will think about it. I should make sure we set up an appointment to get you into the ring against me."
It wasn't that she didn't want to contact him it was more her trying to figure out what was going on. He was a playboy and she wasn't the type to just give into someone easily. She stood up and made her way to the door, "but thank you so much for the ice cream." ** Playboy was an apt description. But a cheater he was not. The whole trick was figuring out how to get him to commit. Whoever could manage that would be one hell of a happy woman.
But it wasn’t likely.
Remy would be hard to tie down, if not impossible. It’d have to be just the right mix of exciting and comfortable for him to allow himself to relax that much.
“I’d like that. I haven’t been thrashed by a pretty girl in a little over a week. I’m going through withdraw.” He flashed a smile at her and would lean in to give her cheek a kiss (if allowed), then winked and headed outside.
“You’re welcome.” He’d say once outside. “Don’t be too mysterious.” Hit him up some day, pretty girl. “Goodnight.”