InsaneJournal

Remy was a confident sort of man. He always knew what he was doing (or so he'd like everyone to believe) and never second guessed himself. He made his decisions and he stuck with them, as a rule. Of course, some rules were meant to be broken. And while he'd been sitting there on the couch across from L'Autre Docteur and Rose, he'd been completely and totally confident. The other Doctor had smiled at her and had watched her a few times, but nothing more. He hadn't held hands with her or tried to kiss her or said anything that would indicate any feelings beyond friendship. He didn't even look particularly pathetic around her, as lovers often did around one another. As he imagined Jack would, around The Doctor. No. The big-eared Doctor and Rose had been completely platonic, though they'd laughed and chatted and picked on one another (the banter was amusing, actually), they hadn't seemed like anything more than friends.

When the more solemn Doctor, with those puppy-brown eyes had shown up, the mood hadn't chaged at all-- but he had watched, he had studied, and he had very quickly learned everything that he needed to know, but it didn't show on his face or in his attitude while the four of them were together. He'd laughed, he'd jokes, he'd picked fun at 'John Smith', and he'd flattered Rose, as was his won't when women were involved. And even after they'd left, Remy had remarked on the earlier version of the Doctor, and on how nice Rose seemed, but he didn't say much more about the encounter. Instead, he busied himself with other questions, other yapping about this, that, or the other. He'd kept it very light hearted, and hadn't asked anything else for a time. It wasn't until the two were sitting together on the couch, just on the other side of their shared bed, that the Cajun drew in a slow breath  and turned red eyes onto the Doctor.

"You ain' tell me you was in love wit' her." Well, when he got to the point, at least he did it. No beating around the bush when he finally got down to it.