Raz de Marée au thé Dans la Cuisine
Day Four, 13th Hour, 1st Minute
There were five reasons that the entire day reeked with awfulness in Remy's mind.
Item One: He felt as hung over as if he'd gone out last night on a drinking binge/competition with Logan where neither hauled their sorry carcasses out of the bar until the bartender kicked them out personally. The light hurt his eyes. His head pounded. He'd only recently stopped seeing double.
Item Two: Trying to catch Jubilee at any point when the little firecracker was wired for sound, squealing (making him wince—oh, the pain!), and plotting gifts he was pretty sure Kitty wouldn't even want was a nightmare. Project: Secret Admirer was still in effect and all he wanted to do was get a hold of the framed admirers and let them know once and for all that Rogue was now effectively taken.
No man in his right mind would let a girl like Rogue get away from him after she'd proposed and been accepted.
Item Three: Emma was playing taskmaster.
Item Four: Kitty was playing taskmaster.
Item Five: Laura I-can-kill-you-with-a-look X-23 was playing taskmaster!
And not a single one of those three (sometimes) estimable females knew anything about cooking.
"Non!" Remy rushed to wave Kitty away from the pots on the stove. "What are you trying to do?" he demanded.
Kitty crossed both arms and glared at him. "I thought I smelled meat."
"There is no meat in this pot. Now, shoo." He stood in between her and the stove while she merely rolled her eyes, unimpressed.
I think a nice light salad should go well with our menu as well, Emma interjected mentally, as usual, oblivious to the fact that he was otherwise occupied rescuing said menu.
This ain't the meal for a 'light' salad, chère, Remy retorted mentally while tossing out verbally, "Back away from the cooking, Chaton."
She sniffed disdainfully, then suddenly popped both eyes opened wide and fled through the wall.
Remy turned and groaned at the sight of Laura entering the kitchen with two more grocery bags.
"We need more protein," she stated and began pulling out some definitely nonvegetarian items.
"Dieu, grant me patience." He rolled his eyes upward. "This is Kitty's birthday party, X,"—a dangerously raised eyebrow from Laura—"and she's vegetarian."
Laura sniffed disdainfully.
Were you proposing a heavy salad? Emma thought disdainfully. Because— What in the world is that? Her mental voice suddenly went dead and he figured she was dealing with an in-person catastrophe.
Remy counted to three.
One.
Two.
Thr--
Laura opened his pot lid.
Remy exploded. "Are you crazy?"
Remy. What's going on down there? Emma's voice came in sharply.
He was too busy to listen.
Remy?
Day Four, 13th Hour, 28th Minute
It wasn't supposed to get violent. It wasn't. All he had to do was keep Laura out of the pots of jambalaya and gumbo and away from the cutting board full of vegetables and out of the kitchen, but no. The former military experiment had other ideas and implemented them with full military assault.
Lucky for Remy, he knew how to deal with military assault.
When Laura employed claws to get him out of the way, he charged those claws and sent her flying. She didn't even bat an eye, but went hard for the pot. Needless to say, it went way downhill from there.
Naturally with the crashes and the thuds and the sound of at least one cabinet door being sliced clean off its hinges, it was only a matter of time before people were pouring into the area in a jumble of noise and motion. Remy registered it as he did all moving targets, but his focus remained on staying alive as Laura took another swipe with her claw.
He shoved his gumbo out of her line of fire—noting quickly that the lid was still on it and nothing could've "fallen" in—then promptly found himself suspended by the front of his shirt against a higher cupboard.
He blinked. "Logan?"
Logan grunted in acknowledgement. Remy realized suddenly that Laura was growling furiously from behind Logan's other fist.
"Now, you two want to explain what you're doing?" Logan asked, barely restrained impatience in his voice.
"She started it!"
"He cannot cook!" she retorted heatedly. "The nutrient content is insufficient!"
"It's a birthday dinner, pour le Christ!"
"Stop! Both of you!" Ororo's forceful, authoritative tones silenced them.
Remy managed to look slightly sheepish, but Laura simply glared back at Logan.
Remy glanced around. The kitchen was trashed. If it wasn't food, it wasn't spared. And right now, Kitty, the guest of honor herself and supposedly unaware that all this food was for her, was staring wide-eyed at the wreckage.
Logan set them both down. "Gumbo, how about you clean this up?"
He stared at Logan. "Me? It was her fault!"
"But you could have stopped it." Logan pointed at Laura. "You, come with me. Now."
He stalked away toward the elevator and Laura muttered and growled after him. None of the students had any doubt whether the Danger Room would be well occupied for the next so long.
Remy muttered in the middle of his kitchen.
Rogue wrinkled her nose. "Is something burning?"
Day Four, 14th Hour, 5th Minute
He cursed and muttered, but really there was one definite reason his day was now looking up. Remy might have been stuck cleaning up a kitchen and repairing a cabinet door that Laura had trashed while his ruined jambalaya smoked from the sink, but he was doing so in the shy, friendly company of Rogue—who was never shy and friendly.
Today, she stared mostly at the plate of veggies he had set in front of her and offered sympathies to the broccoli instead of to him. It was almost...cute.
"Why did she do that?" she asked, then took a bite, still staring at the vegetables.
Remy chuckled a little to himself and started sweeping. "Think she preferred her menu to mine."
"Imagine that," Rogue drawled and he glanced up at the normal way it sounded.
But she still wasn't looking at him.
"I swear, that food ain't a work of art."
Her head popped up, surprise in the green eyes.
"Didn't take even a moment to make it look pretty." He grinned at her.
Her eyes wandered below his chin and his grin grew wider.
"Toss me that shirt, chère."
Her eyes dropped to the plate again. Her cheeks flushed brightly. "What shirt?"
"The one in the seat next to you." Remy watched her with growing amusement and began plotting the sabotage of the plan he had assigned to Jubilee.
Rogue looked over and tossed the shirt—without looking. It went sailing right over his head and toward the stove.
"Not in the gumbo!"
Perhaps we should do spaghetti instead, Emma offered.
Rogue grimaced. "Oops."
There were five reasons that the entire day reeked with awfulness in Remy's mind.
Item One: He felt as hung over as if he'd gone out last night on a drinking binge/competition with Logan where neither hauled their sorry carcasses out of the bar until the bartender kicked them out personally. The light hurt his eyes. His head pounded. He'd only recently stopped seeing double.
Item Two: Trying to catch Jubilee at any point when the little firecracker was wired for sound, squealing (making him wince—oh, the pain!), and plotting gifts he was pretty sure Kitty wouldn't even want was a nightmare. Project: Secret Admirer was still in effect and all he wanted to do was get a hold of the framed admirers and let them know once and for all that Rogue was now effectively taken.
No man in his right mind would let a girl like Rogue get away from him after she'd proposed and been accepted.
Item Three: Emma was playing taskmaster.
Item Four: Kitty was playing taskmaster.
Item Five: Laura I-can-kill-you-with-a-look X-23 was playing taskmaster!
And not a single one of those three (sometimes) estimable females knew anything about cooking.
"Non!" Remy rushed to wave Kitty away from the pots on the stove. "What are you trying to do?" he demanded.
Kitty crossed both arms and glared at him. "I thought I smelled meat."
"There is no meat in this pot. Now, shoo." He stood in between her and the stove while she merely rolled her eyes, unimpressed.
I think a nice light salad should go well with our menu as well, Emma interjected mentally, as usual, oblivious to the fact that he was otherwise occupied rescuing said menu.
This ain't the meal for a 'light' salad, chère, Remy retorted mentally while tossing out verbally, "Back away from the cooking, Chaton."
She sniffed disdainfully, then suddenly popped both eyes opened wide and fled through the wall.
Remy turned and groaned at the sight of Laura entering the kitchen with two more grocery bags.
"We need more protein," she stated and began pulling out some definitely nonvegetarian items.
"Dieu, grant me patience." He rolled his eyes upward. "This is Kitty's birthday party, X,"—a dangerously raised eyebrow from Laura—"and she's vegetarian."
Laura sniffed disdainfully.
Were you proposing a heavy salad? Emma thought disdainfully. Because— What in the world is that? Her mental voice suddenly went dead and he figured she was dealing with an in-person catastrophe.
Remy counted to three.
One.
Two.
Thr--
Laura opened his pot lid.
Remy exploded. "Are you crazy?"
Remy. What's going on down there? Emma's voice came in sharply.
He was too busy to listen.
Remy?
Day Four, 13th Hour, 28th Minute
It wasn't supposed to get violent. It wasn't. All he had to do was keep Laura out of the pots of jambalaya and gumbo and away from the cutting board full of vegetables and out of the kitchen, but no. The former military experiment had other ideas and implemented them with full military assault.
Lucky for Remy, he knew how to deal with military assault.
When Laura employed claws to get him out of the way, he charged those claws and sent her flying. She didn't even bat an eye, but went hard for the pot. Needless to say, it went way downhill from there.
Naturally with the crashes and the thuds and the sound of at least one cabinet door being sliced clean off its hinges, it was only a matter of time before people were pouring into the area in a jumble of noise and motion. Remy registered it as he did all moving targets, but his focus remained on staying alive as Laura took another swipe with her claw.
He shoved his gumbo out of her line of fire—noting quickly that the lid was still on it and nothing could've "fallen" in—then promptly found himself suspended by the front of his shirt against a higher cupboard.
He blinked. "Logan?"
Logan grunted in acknowledgement. Remy realized suddenly that Laura was growling furiously from behind Logan's other fist.
"Now, you two want to explain what you're doing?" Logan asked, barely restrained impatience in his voice.
"She started it!"
"He cannot cook!" she retorted heatedly. "The nutrient content is insufficient!"
"It's a birthday dinner, pour le Christ!"
"Stop! Both of you!" Ororo's forceful, authoritative tones silenced them.
Remy managed to look slightly sheepish, but Laura simply glared back at Logan.
Remy glanced around. The kitchen was trashed. If it wasn't food, it wasn't spared. And right now, Kitty, the guest of honor herself and supposedly unaware that all this food was for her, was staring wide-eyed at the wreckage.
Logan set them both down. "Gumbo, how about you clean this up?"
He stared at Logan. "Me? It was her fault!"
"But you could have stopped it." Logan pointed at Laura. "You, come with me. Now."
He stalked away toward the elevator and Laura muttered and growled after him. None of the students had any doubt whether the Danger Room would be well occupied for the next so long.
Remy muttered in the middle of his kitchen.
Rogue wrinkled her nose. "Is something burning?"
Day Four, 14th Hour, 5th Minute
He cursed and muttered, but really there was one definite reason his day was now looking up. Remy might have been stuck cleaning up a kitchen and repairing a cabinet door that Laura had trashed while his ruined jambalaya smoked from the sink, but he was doing so in the shy, friendly company of Rogue—who was never shy and friendly.
Today, she stared mostly at the plate of veggies he had set in front of her and offered sympathies to the broccoli instead of to him. It was almost...cute.
"Why did she do that?" she asked, then took a bite, still staring at the vegetables.
Remy chuckled a little to himself and started sweeping. "Think she preferred her menu to mine."
"Imagine that," Rogue drawled and he glanced up at the normal way it sounded.
But she still wasn't looking at him.
"I swear, that food ain't a work of art."
Her head popped up, surprise in the green eyes.
"Didn't take even a moment to make it look pretty." He grinned at her.
Her eyes wandered below his chin and his grin grew wider.
"Toss me that shirt, chère."
Her eyes dropped to the plate again. Her cheeks flushed brightly. "What shirt?"
"The one in the seat next to you." Remy watched her with growing amusement and began plotting the sabotage of the plan he had assigned to Jubilee.
Rogue looked over and tossed the shirt—without looking. It went sailing right over his head and toward the stove.
"Not in the gumbo!"
Perhaps we should do spaghetti instead, Emma offered.
Rogue grimaced. "Oops."
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