Remy LeBeau: Here For Your Entertainment. (mssr_lebeau) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-10-13 23:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, remy lebeau (gambit), sharon carter |
Who: Sharon Carter and Remy LeBeau
When: Monday, Oct 13
Where: Out to dinner
What: Date time! And, you know, a mugging.
Rating/Warnings: R - Violence, Language
Status: Complete
Okay, so this was a real date. A one-on-one date. No gay boys sharing the limo, no glasses of wine in Sharon's apartment. They were going out together, just them. Sharon came home from work and changed. She put on a casual dress, some heels, some lipstick. A date. They'd had them before, but after that night when he confessed all those things, something felt different. For Sharon, anyway. She'd made a decision that night. And since then things had been slowly changing. Slowly evolving.
She was wearing red. It was a deep v-neck wrap dress thingy, with a flowing skirt. If she spun around, it'd swirl around her in a fun way. She had a purse, too. A little clutch. Everything matched. Red shoes, red dress, red purse. Red lips.
She was playing tug-of-war with Pete by the front door, waiting for Remy to come pick her up.
**
Remy would show-- he was always late, so hopefully she hadn’t expected him to be on time, but he was only fifteen minutes late. Regardless, he’d show up, he’d give her a kiss, he’d scoop up Pete and give him a kiss, then present him with a dog treat and deposit him onto his bed, promising that mommy would be back after dinner, then he’d be ushering Sharon out.
Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be dinner and dancing because he was, you know, shot in the chest. So the dancing would have to wait until he could walk around without painkillers. Well, he was doing that now, but he didn’t feel great about it. Everything ached.
So, he would take her out to dinner on a little four hour cruise along the shoreline, then they would take her for a carriage ride-- where he’d chat to her about nothing, but it was amazing how interesting everything was that came out of his mouth, though none of it meant anything. That was just how Remy was.
And after the carriage ride, he’d offer his hand and they’d walk out of the park and along the road to meet up with the car he’d chartered. It was only six blocks away and Remy could have called for it, but it was a nice night.
The pair would be walking along, hand in hand, when a man stepped out from around a corner and pointed a gun at the pair of them. “Gimme your fucking wallet!” He shouted loudly, jerking the gun a little.
Remy came to a pause and blinked once at the man, but didn’t move an inch. Really, he wouldn’t have time to do much anyway....
**
Sharon had had an absolutely fantastic evening so far. It seemed to go on for hours and hours, and by the time they were walking through the park to get to the car, it was late. Really late. So much that her phone was only at twenty-five percent battery. But she was with Remy. And when a girl was with Remy, the rest of the world disappeared. It was no wonder that Sharon was falling for him. Clearly, it was his fault.
Hand in hand, walking through the park. How romantic. Another reason she was falling. His fault. Completely his fault. Anyway, Sharon was startled when a mugger came seemingly from nowhere and brandished a gun at the pair of them. The hell?
"Calm down," Sharon said, lifting a hand in a soothing gesture. Though her fight-or-flight instincts kicked straight in. Adrenaline started pumping, her breathing elevated. She could feel a slickness on her hand holding Remy's. And she noticed that he hadn't moved. Must be petrified. The sight of the gun? After he'd been shot? She had to diffuse this situation. Stat. But first, get the mugger's attention on her. "No one needs to get hurt here tonight."
"Someone's gonna get hurt!" The guy shouted, waving the gun from Remy to Sharon. "If you don't hand over your fucking wallet! And your purse!"
"It's okay," Sharon said, her hand still in the air, palm toward the mugger. "You still have time to walk away."
"I'm the one with the gun! I make the--fucking give me your wallet, man, I'm not fucking kidding!!"
Sharon gave Remy a quick glance. "I gave him a chance." Then she turned back to the mugger.
The next actions happened ridiculously fast: Sharon's left hand shot out and took hold of the Mugger's wrist and jerked it to the side, away from Remy, while dropping Remy's hand with her right. Her now-free hand came straight up to ram the heel of her palm into the Mugger's face. The the sound of a gunshot shook the park, covering the crack as the Mugger's nose broke under Sharon's punch. Sharon winced as the bullet grazed her shoulder, but she twisted the man's wrist and the gun fell with a clatter to the pavement below. Her knee lifted to smack straight into the guy's groin. He buckled over, blood streaming from his nose, whimpering in pain, and grabbing at his crotch.
Sharon dropped his wrist, then bent down and picked up the gun. There was blood streaming down her arm now, and it was obvious she was going to need stitches on that wound.
**
Remy had watched all of this with an even expression, head tilting some as she thrashed the man and dropped him onto the ground like it was all completely normal.
“Huh.” Came his simple response, hazel eyes moving to her injury, then down at the groaning, curled up man.
Then he turned to look at her with a little grin. “That was hot.” Just so she knew.
Coming a step towards her, he would move out a hand to carefully take up her elbow and look over the wound. “He got you pretty good. I’ll call the cops.” Even as he said that, he was tugging out his cell and dialing the emergency number.
He’d spend maybe two minutes on the phone with them, completely calm, as he looked over her arm. Then he was hanging up.
“They’ll be here soon.” Though even as he said it, the guy on the ground was pushing up to his hands and knees and beginning to climb to his feet. The red-head turned some to lock hazel eyes onto him. “Lay back down.” His voice was slightly firm as he said it and the man hesitated for a heartbeat, then laid back down. Those hazel eyes would linger just a second to make sure he stayed down before he looked again at Sharon. “You should sit down, you’re bleeding pretty good.” He was beginning to tug his tie off, then moving to wrap it around her arm over the wound to put pressure on it.
**
Sharon was a little surprised at the way Remy was reacting. Like none of this phased him. They'd just been mugged. She'd just been shot. And knocked the shit out of the mugger, and taken his gun. The gun that had been pointed straight at Remy. And he was cool, calm, collected. Like he always was. That was more confusing--almost painfully so--than any of the rest.
She barely registered the wound in her arm. The gun was pointed at the mugger on the ground, and she almost said something when he started to come up, but Remy took care of it.
"I'm okay." She said, though she was feeling it now. "It's just a graze."
Sharon turned her attention to Remy as he started to tend to her wound. It was fairly deep, actually. And bleeding well. "...you didn't... flinch."
**
Remy had taken care of it and that man had simply obeyed. He hadn’t looked like he was thinking about it, he hadn’t looked like he was considering his choices, he’d just.. obeyed. He’d laid back down as he was told, no sass-mouth.
“It looks pretty nasty. We’ll get you cleaned up, get some pain meds and something to make sure you don’t get an infection.” He’d push some of the hair away from her face with a smile and urge her towards the bus stop bench. “Sit.” She was losing a good deal of blood.
“Neither did you.” His retort to that. “You were incredibly badass... it was really hot.” Remarked with a grin.
**
Suddenly, Sharon could hear sirens in the distance. She gave a little struggle against him, wanting to make sure she could keep the gun on the mugger. In case he moved. Though, he wasn't moving. She sat down on the bench, reluctantly.
"...No, I mean... I was terrified. I've been trained to keep my fear under control and handle the situation at hand." She'd had two lifetimes of training to do just that. "..but you weren't afraid. Not at all." She said, staring up at him. She wasn't looking over at the wound, though his tie was likely now soaked with her blood.
**
No, he wasn’t moving. He wouldn’t move. Not for a while, anyway. Long enough for the police to get here. “I think you were fantastic.” Yes, she was, he was impressed-- and really turned on. Though, when she pointed out that he wasn’t afraid, he lifted his eyebrows.. and he smiled slowly.
“No, I wasn’t. Why should I be? You were there to protect me.” The police were showing up a moment later, and Remy turned to look. “Are the EMTs coming?” Even as he asked, the ambulance came around the corner and stopped near them. He would immediately be waving a hand, bringing their attention to the bleeding blonde.
“How do you feel?” He’d ask her even as the two came towards them with their medical kit.
**
"I'm fine," Sharon said, though she was a bit dazed. She frowned as the EMTs came over to fuss over her. She shook her head. "I'm fine," she repeated to them. "Really, you should take care of that guy."
And then Sharon realized she was still holding the gun. She stood up from the bench to go give the detectives on scene the story. She handed over the weapon after explaining who she was and showing her ID. Funny, the head detective didn't have any questions for her. Probably because she was pale, gushing blood, and wobbling.
"I don't need a hospital." Sharon said, brushing off the EMTs again. "Really, I'm fine. You need to worry about that guy's nose."
**
“I’ll take her to the hospital.” Remy offered as he came up behind her and carefully rest his hands on her shoulders, smiling and nodding to the EMTs. “I’ll make sure she’s properly taken care of.” The two EMTs didn’t look very convinced, but the Cajun just lifted his eyebrows some.
“I’ll take care of her.” He said again. “Go on.” The two lingered a second, but then they’d head off to the man still on the ground, and Remy would dial up his car as he turned Sharon around and urged her in that direction.
The SUV appeared just a moment later and he’d be helping her into the car and telling the driver to take them to the hospital.
**
Sharon was starting to feel like a zombie. If there was more for her to do--more danger, more action--she was sure that she could handle it. But they were safe. The danger was gone, and she was losing blood. lots of it. There was nothing she could do but turn and follow Remy's lead, letting him usher her into the car.
"Really. I don't want to go to the hospital," she mumbled, lifting a hand to run through her hair. Of course, without realizing, she used the blood soaked one. Now she had blood in her hair.
Fucking perfect.
**
“Okay.” He’d say more quietly, urging her to lean in against him as they drove away from the scene. “Do you have a good first aid kit at your home?” He really didn’t want to take her back to his penthouse, but if she didn’t have what he’d need.. well, he wouldn’t have a choice.
“Just relax. You’ll be alright. We’ll get you all taken care of and I’ll make you something with a lot of iron and get you an orange juice.” He was sure he could take care of her-- he’d stitched up worse on himself. He was just counting the minutes, studying her closely. He was being cool and calm about it to not freak her out.. she wasn’t in great danger as of yet, but he wanted to get her taken care of quickly.
**
Oh, Remy. Why would you encourage her to rest her head, and then ask her questions? Sharon leaned her head against his shoulder and the world went out for a minute. She heard "Okay [...] juice." From him.
"Juice sounds good," she mumbled. There was a powerful, dull aching in her shoulder, and she could feel her pulse in it. It wasn't a life-threatening injury, and she probably wouldn't have been so out of it if it hadn't been a really, really long day. She'd worked ten hours before going out with Remy, which had been several hours as it was. Wined and dined, and now? Now she was exhausted and bleeding, coming down off an adrenaline high.
**
“Sharon?” He’d ask after a few seconds. “Do you have a good med kit?” Prompted more quietly. If not, well.. he’d have to try to pick one up, or take her home.
God, he didn’t want to take her home, but what places were going to be open this late? Walgreens. And they wouldn’t have a suture kit.
**
“Med kit?” Sharon blinked her eyes open and looked around. Oh yeah, they were still in the hired car. Her whole arm was throbbing now. That bullet must have done more than graze. A gentle sigh escaped her. “...I have a First Aid kit. Band-Aids. Gauze. Rubbing alcohol on little folded napkins in a pack… that sort of crap.” She said.
Nothing at her place that would handle something like this. Maybe they should go to the hospital? All Sharon wanted to do was sleep. … Okay, maybe have some painkillers then sleep.
**
Fuck.
“Take us home.” He’d say to the driver, letting out a slow breath. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He wasn’t sure he wanted to invite her into his home.
Unsurprisingly, it was as empty as he was.
But just three minutes later, they’d be pulling up outside the penthouse and he’d get her into the elevator and they’d be upstairs shortly. A quick code punched in and the pair were going into his lavish Penthouse, looking like something out of Better Homes and Gardens, the place was immaculate and everything was perfect. It was a model home. Nothing personal-- well, a few things. There was a postcard on the mantel, and a suit coat on the back of a chair.
And really.. that was it. No photos, no paintings of anything he’d like-- it was all done by some interior designer. Something out of a magazine.
But he’d get her into the (huge) kitchen and would sit her at the small kitchen table and disappeared. He came back a moment later with a first aid kit and set it down to start pulling things out. He’d clean her up in short order and hold up a pill.
“Take this.” He made sure she had looked at the pill and understood, before he set it in her non-bloody hand. It was one of his pain pills. A bottle of water was set opened on the table for her to take it with.
He wouldn’t be surprised if it knocked her out for the next four hours.
**
The pill was taken without argument. Sharon popped it into her mouth and then reached for the water bottle. She couldn't get it open with one hand, so she had to use the other to pry the top off. Then she swallowed half of it in a few large gulps, and turned to watch what he was doing with her arm. Cleaning. Gauze. Stingy stuff.
The world started to grow foggy around her.
"Your place is nice." She remembered saying it, blinking her eyes open again. Somehow they'd gone shut.
And now they were shut again.
**
It surely wouldn’t be long before those drugs took hold and she wouldn’t feel a thing as he very carefully stitched her arm. Tiny stitches, almost two dozen of them. He knew how to do it so it’d barely leave a scar. He was good at it.
So when Sharon woke, she’d be in a warm bed, with two very large, floor to ceiling windows letting in the moonlight. It was late (early?) when she woke, so the sun wasn’t ready to come up yet. But Remy wasn’t far away, sitting on a couch and tapping away at his laptop. He looked tired, but that was to be expected.
On the bedside table beside her was a glass of water and a few pills for a headache he assumed she would have.
The room was just as sterile as the rest of the house. Anyone could have lived here.
**
Sharon konked out. She was a good patient, staying perfectly still while he stitched her up. Of course, that was mostly due to the drugs. Drugs plus exhaustion plus the adrenaline crash meant she was putty in his hands.
When she woke up, it was still dark out. She could see due to the dim light in the room. She sat up on her elbow--her good elbow--and saw the glass of water and pills on the bedside table. Then her eyes came to rest on Remy. She sat up further, giving a gentle hiss at the pain in her arm as she moved.
**
He looked up as he heard that hiss of breath and he’d smile slowly, then close up his laptop and set it aside, pushing up gracefully to his feet and coming towards the bed.
Sharon should take note she was in a t-shirt and her underwear and nothing else. He’d hung up her dress so it didn’t get ruined (okay, well, it was probably garbage anyway, he wasn’t sure they’d be able to get all the blood out). The shoes were safely set aside as well.
“I’ve never had a date end in stitches before.” He’d come to sit on the side of the bed and look pointedly at her arm. “My Hero.”
**
The lack of her dress was the third thing that she noticed. Pills, water, Remy, then pain, then lack of dress. She turned to look at him, her face soft. She also realized that she was in his place, his shirt, and her head was throbbing.
"Did you take my dress off?" She asked, reaching forward for the water and the pills. "I assume these are for me."
At least it was her left arm that was injured and not her right.
**
“Like I haven’t seen you naked before. Yes, I took your dress off. And yes, those are for you.” He’d lift the glass for her if she needed it, a little smile playing at his lips. “You’re all taken care of. I have some pills I can send you home with in the morning. For now, just rest.” He’d push her hair back away from her face. “I swung by your place and picked up something that belongs to you.” He nodded to the foot of the bed-- and there, curled up in his bed, was Pete. It wasn’t likely he’d stay asleep long if he heard her voice, though.
“I figured he’d need to pee, he’d probably be hungry.” So he’d gone over and taken him for a little walk, fed him, then packed up some of his food in a bag and brought him back so he could watch over his mom.
He was a good boy.
“How are you feeling?”
Yeah. He was a shitty boyfriend.
**
"Once." Sharon said, though she didn't feel exposed at all. She was thankful for him taking care of her. She took the pills and drank down the water, then set the cup aside and gave him a small smile. The smile brightened considerably when she saw her dog, though. "Pete!" She cried out.
Pete lifted his head at the sound, and his tail started wagging, thumping against the bed. He climbed up and rushed over to her, whimpering and his tail wagging back and forth so fast that it was hard for him to walk. Sharon lifted her hand and petted the dog, who licked at her face. "Haha, it's all right. I'm okay," she said, and prayed that he wouldn't bump into her arm.
"...I'm okay. I'm... surprised. I've never seen your place before."
He wasn’t exactly a boyfriend, was he? Shitty or no, he didn’t quite have the title.
Yet.
**
No, he wasn’t a boyfriend-- but if he was like this when he wasn’t a boyfriend, imagine what he’d be like if he had the title.
Or, maybe it just got worse from here.
“Well, it’s just a place.” It wasn’t his home. “Get some rest. We’ll get you home in the morning.” He really didn’t want her nosing around here. He was surprisingly private, and even though nothing in this house, save for things in his room, gave any sign that someone lived here.. he still was protective of the space.
“Do you need anything else?” He’d reach out to pet his hand along Pete’s back and calm him some. He didn’t want the little man hurting his mom accidentally.
**
That was the gamble, wasn't it? The idea that this would probably get better... but it could get worse. Sharon was willing to take that gamble. At least, she thought she was. But she was fairly convinced that Remy wasn't. Trying to not get her hopes up. It was futile.
"it's a really nice place." Sharon said as Pete curled up by her side. "...is this your room?" She asked. there wasn't anything on the walls or on the bedside table that made it look lived in.
"...No." She reached for Remy's hand and took it--using her good hand/arm, of course. "Just you."
**
“No, not my room. My room’s on the other side of the penthouse.” In an area that was very off limits to guests. Of course, he’d only had three guests. Ever. Sharon made four. And she was against his will.
Though, as she said she just wanted him, he’d smile slowly and lift that hand some to kiss it. He’d cleaned the blood from her hands and arm as best he could, he’d even cleaned what he could out of her hair. And when she got a look at the stitches tomorrow, she’d surely be amazed at the job.
He was good at stitching things up. It wasn’t like he could go to a hospital, after all.
“I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”
**
"Oh." That was weird. Sharon raised an eyebrow. Of course, she didn't know that he didn't let people into his room. Maybe there'd been too much blood, or he thought she'd be more comfortable here, or he didn't want her to assume that there was sexy things going on, or something.
"Okay." She responded softly. "Thank you. For taking care of me." She said, softly. Then she laid back down and shooed Pete to the foot of the bed. She motioned for Remy to come closer, to wrap his arms around her. She wanted to fall asleep cuddled up against him.
**
“You’re welcome.” He was still in his suit-- was that surprising? But just the pants and button up. So it was easy to climb in bed beside her, atop the covers, and he’d curl an arm around her and tug her in a bit closer, but was careful of Pete trapped between the two of them.
“Sleep.” He would insist again, quietly. She’d lost a lot of blood, she needed rest. And he’d make her a protein packed breakfast come morning. For now, though, she needed to sleep.
He’d make sure she was alright.
**
Sharon curled against him. He thought he was bad news. He kept trying to push her away, but he was only bringing her in closer. She closed her eyes, feeling his warmth against her arm, against her cheek as she settled. Her heart slowed a bit, her breathing, too, and she drifted off to sleep.
She felt comfortable. She felt safe in his arms.
**
She shouldn’t have. Remy LeBeau was not someone to trust. Ask anyone who knew him-- not this trumped-up, wall-street version, but the real Remy. Because no, he wasn’t one of those people who thought the dreams were just dreams, or that they were former lives, or that they were ‘other selves’. Remy didn’t dream. Remy woke up and remembered.
The memories weren’t something alternate to him, they weren’t a past life, or something that might have happened, that Cajun Thief wasn’t someone else.
It was him, and this man in a monkey suit was a lie. But somehow, he couldn’t let it go. He clung to it like some sort of alter ego. Maybe that would all stop once he got all of his memories.. maybe not.
But for now, he was doing very well balancing the two lives.
And he’d watch over her as she slept, like any good man might. But Remy LeBeau was not a good man.