The Memoirs

Never would Clark know, but he had been right to assume the walls had ears. Neither he nor Lex saw the door close quietly down the hall, and not even Clark's super hearing picked up anything odd. Not that using the phone was an odd thing, of course.

Just who he happened to be calling.

Jean sat on the corner of the bed, rubbing at one sore eye. The contacts were a damn nuisance, but effective if they passed a psychic and an alien's inspection.

He used the secure cell phone, leaning back against the pillows, and waited for someone to pick up.

Whomever this was, Logan was absolutely going to skewer them for interrupting. He growled at the phone, and then picked it up. "Logan, and it better be fucking good."

"When has Gambit called if it be less than good, eh?"

Jean, or rather, Remy, picked a bit of lint from his pants, charged it, and flicked it, watching the miniature firework show go off as it exploded above the bed.

"What you got for me, Gumbo?" Logan rolled to his feet, tucking the sheet around his waist as he headed for the fridge. "Kid blow up again?"

Bobby sat up on one elbow and glared after his lover, cursing Remy LeBeau to the furthest reaches of hell.

"Ah, they're good kids. They don't take care of themselves so well, but Remy does what he can." Another piece of lint, another charge, another miniature explosion. "Gambit know for a fact that they be home tomorrow."

Logan screwed off the lid to one of his beers, and paused in mid-chug. "What happened? Why're you takin' care of them?"

"Been a bit of a fight. No blood shed, jus' plenty of fightin' and trouble. Got a little problem, something with Wayne, but Gambit isn't sticking his nose in their business, lest it get torn off." Remy snorted. "They are a handful."

"Smart thinkin'." Logan finished the rest of his beer. "The Kent kid likes me. Luthor bastard can't stand me. When they get back, I'll have a chat with the kid and see what I can weasel out of him. What's the beef between the kid and Luthor, you know?"

Remy made a negative noise in his throat. "Don't know. Lots of screamin' earlier--Gambit thought they was havin' more of their wall-crumblin' love, but it got too quiet too fast. Kent looks like he was cryin'." He exhaled, rubbing his sore eyes again.

Logan paused again. "Talk to the professor yet?"

"Oui. Professor Xavier tell Gambit he be getting a transfer to Metrop'lis soon, no matter how much Gambit tell him the weather too dry for Cajun blood." Remy frowned at the wall.

Logan snorted. "You'll survive, Gumbo. Let me guess. You're going to be the French teacher?"

Remy snorted. "Gambit gonna be workin' at the farm boy's newspaper."

"Now how in the hell are you going to pull that one off? Fashion photographer workin' at a city newspaper?"

Remy's lips curved just this side of wicked. "Gambit a master of disguise, mon ami. He can be fashion photographer for the stars. You wait and see."

"That ain't all you're a master of, bub, but what I'm thinkin' of starts with bull and ends with shit." A snort. "When you showin' up?"

"Luthor offered, so Gambit gonna ride first class. He'll have a glass of champagne for you," Remy smirked and toed out of his shoes, pulling them fully on the bed and wriggling his toes as he ran a hand through his long hair. "How is le petite?"

"Cussin' your Cajun ass good and proper for interrupting," Logan said with a smirk.

Remy's eyes glinted as he squirmed his toes in his socks. "Jus' the way Gambit like it," he teased. "Go finish. Gambit will ring tomorrow mornin', 'fore he leaves."

"Be careful, Gumbo. If the Luthor kid goes nuclear, You're gonna be the only one there with enough power t'take him down 'fore he hurts somebody else."

Remy inclined his head, despite the fact that Logan couldn't see him. "He's strong, but Gambit stronger. He'll keep things nice and calm." He sighed.

"Hey, how do you want to play it with Luthor? We're strangers that never met, or the truth?"

"What was you sayin' day 'fore yesterday about psychics and them knowin' all, mon ami? Luthor will smell a lie."

Logan snorted. "What I said was, only a damned fool'd think you could lie to a man who can read your mind. Truth it is then. Old flames, ended well, still friends, haven't seen each other in a while, yadda yadda."

"More lie than truth in that," Remy teased, eyes dancing. "Old flames, ended explosively, still friends, saw you two weeks ago." He snorted and stretched out on the bed, eyes flitting half closed sleepily. "You were Gambit's gay experimentation. And what an experimentation!"

"Get off the phone, LeBeau!" Bobby yelled across the house.

Logan snorted again. "Explosively my ass, you blew up the fucking bedroom because I got you off so hard." He scowled at Bobby, and then grinned at him. "I'm being summoned, Gumbo. Like I said, take care of yourself. Luthor kid's dangerous until we get him to the Professor and he can teach the kid how to control it. Don't hesitate to take him down."

"Gambit will remember. Bonne nuit," Remy said, and hung up.

Bobby glared, mussed dark hair hanging in his eyes, body stretched taut and aroused. "Exploded the bedroom?" he hissed.

Logan hung up the phone and turned around to face Bobby's glare. "Yep. Fucked the Cajun so hard he lost control of the kinesis and blew up the bed, the dresser, and the mirror in the west wing," he confirmed.

Bobby pouted and offered his arms up. "Well, I turned our bedroom into a skating rink once…"

...TBC...