Four: Afternoon

"Scott!"He turned at Ororo's call.  She still wasn't dressed and it was just after one.  "Yes?"  He was wary of her.

"I need you to go to the store for me."

"Uh..." Not 'girlie' things, please no.

"Miracle Grow."

"What?"

"Miracle Grow."  She repeated patiently, as though speaking to a very slow child, annunciating every syllable.  "You know, the blue stuff you sprinkle on plants to help them grow?"

She controlled the weather, nurtured plants with her special touch and she wanted Miracle Grow?  This from the woman who said man-made chemicals was the murder of nature?

 

"Yeah, I know what it is."

"Do not get snappy with me, Scott.  Buy me some.  You can get it at Smiley's Hardware on Chestnut.  Go to Smiley's."

"Smiley's?  What about Ace Hardware on Fifth?  It's closer."

She frowned.  "Smiley's, Scott.  You have to get it at Smiley's."

Scott nodded.  "Okay, sure."  He turned to go.

"Scott."

"Huh?"

"Is white too much?"

"What?"

"My hair.  Should I dye it black?  Could you pick up some hair dye?"

"I like the white.  It's unique."

"It doesn't look silly?"

"No, no, it looks great."

 

That seemed to pacify her, for she smiled.  "Good.  I want to look my best when Heffner comes by."

"Excuse me?  Heffner?"

"Yes, Logan said he would be calling me any day to pose for him."

He was struggling for an answer when his and Jean's bedroom door opened and Jean poked her head out. 

       "Scott, is that you?"  She peered squintingly at him.

He resisted the urge to say, 'No, it's some other guy with ruby quartz glasses named Scott.'  That wouldn't be a good thing to say, not when she could use her powers and have him licking her feet and barking like a dog.  Logan'd love that.

"Remember, Smiley's."  Storm moved back up the attic stairs.

"Why are there twelve sets of keys on my dresser?"

"Are you done with them?"

"Yeah," she gave him a funny look, "sure, take `em.  Did I smell pizza?"

"Uh...Remy ordered it."

"Do I get any?"

Her fuzziness was disappearing fast, arms crossing in an imperious manner, that one eyebrow raising.

 

"There's none left." He hurried past her and scooped up the keys.  Bomb and retreat, that's the strategy.

"None?"

Scott moved into the hall.  "None, " he mumbled, thinking frantically.  Who would be best equipped to deal with Jean over the pizza?  Not Bobby; the poor guy had his hands full, literally, with Jubilee.  Not Remy; he was too busy avoiding Rogue and the kitchen.  He smiled, quickly stopping it before she could see it.  "Logan ate the last few pieces."

Of one box, yes, but Rogue had devoured the rest.  Call him a coward, but he'd rather face Apocalypse, Sinister and Magneto in the same day than Jean over the pizza.  Yeah.  Logan could deal with her.

"Oh really?"

He focused his mind on Logan and the pizza, hoping it was enough to convince her.

It was.

"That pig!  Ordering pizza and not saving me any!"  She hurried away and a few minutes later, as he went out the front door, Scott heard Logan yell loudly, "What was that for, Jeannie?"

A weight lifted from his shoulders and Scott smiled.  Before anyone could stop him, he hurried to his car and drove away.

~~~~~

Remy peered into the rec room.  So far, so good.  The t.v. wasn't on.  The room was deserted.  Jean was upstairs, yelling at Logan over the pizza, her words practically blistering the paint and curling the wallpaper from the walls.  When done, he knew, she'd go back to feverishly cleaning the already spotless mansion and snapping at anyone who came near her.  Scott had somehow escaped in his car, but had forgotten to leave everyone else's keys in his haste.  Ororo was in her room, napping he thought, and his beautiful Southern spitfire Rogue was devouring everything sweet or salty she could get her hands on.  She'd been eating non-stop since breakfast.  Bobby was in his room hiding, and Jubilee.... Remy looked around again.  He had no idea where she was.

All the men were walking on eggshells around the women.

 

"I could name dem like de seven dwarves, " he muttered, moving to one comfortable chair and sitting, stretching his legs out. "Bitchy, grouchy, spacey and hungry.  In order, Jean, Jubilee, Ororo and Rogue.  Yeah," he opened the paper, "Jean's definitely de bitchy one."

 

Remy took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled over an empty candy dish to use as an ashtray.  He was in blatant disregard of Jean's no smoking rule, but hell, he needed it.  He lit it, sucked in the smoke and sighed, turning his attention to the articles on the upcoming presidential election.  He was well into one comparing the candidates when he heard and exaggerated sniffling.  Once, twice, three times.  Now sobs, pitiful ones.  He closed his eyes briefly, then lowered the paper, suppressing a sigh.

Jubilee stood in front of him, clutching a ragged stuffed panda to her stomach, the panda Logan had won for her at a carnival soon after she'd first come to the mansion.  The poor panda looked like someone had been using it for target practice.  She sniffled, sobbed, then peeked at him quickly to see if he was paying attention.  Little con artist, he thought.  "What's wrong, P'tite?"

"My back hurts."

"Use de heating pad."

"I need a back rub." She pouted, that lower lip shoved out, her clear blue eyes pleading that puppy-dog-pity-me look that always got him to do what she wanted, without fail.

He could almost hear Laura San Giacomo from 'Pretty Woman' saying, "Work it, work it, own it." 

"But I just started de paper, P'tite."

She scuffed one foot on the floor, still pouting.  "You do hate me."

Here we go again.  "Gambit loves P'tite, you know dat.  Gambit loves you, an' do jus' about anyt'ing for you."

"Hate me...just want a little backrub...meanie...all against me..."

Remy set the paper aside and reached out, drawing her to him.  "Okay, okay, I give you a backrub.  Where does it hurt?"

Jubilee peeled up Logan's t-shirt a few inches, turning so her back was to him.  "Measure three inches down from the bottom of my bra and two inches lower than the waist of my jeans.  That whole area is, like, clenching in these spasms of pain."  She hitched her loose jeans down.

Remy glanced away from the smooth skin of her back. "Uh...P'tite?"

She seemed oblivious that her panties were showing.

"You said you loved me."

He sighed, "Okay," and wrapped one arm about her waist to steady her, his hand finding and kneading the tight muscles of her lower back.

~~~~~

Beer and pizza.  Pizza and beer.  What a fucking wonderful combination!

Rogue finished the last slice of the Hawaiian pizza.  Salty and sweet.  Remy loved her after all.  She began singing, an obscene drinking song Logan had taught her once.

"Oh, cover me over in whipping cream..."

Mmm...whipping cream.  Sweet.

"...and beat me, beat me, til I scream, bring to life my fondest dreams, for the Marquess de Sade and glory!"

Meetcha in the danger room, baby.

Rogue got up from the floor, tripped over the empty beer box and slammed against the island.  It ripped free of the base and slid a couple feet across the floor.  She went with it, landing on her knees.

"Away, away, away, away, whip away, away, away, away, sore tomorrow..."

Got that right.  She heaved herself to her feet.

"...but kinky today, for the Marquess de Sade and glory!"

A belch worthy of Logan at his best left her, and she stumbled and weaved her way from the kitchen.  Empty bags and boxes littered the counters, table and floor, beer cans rattling and rolling in her wake.  Her voice drifted down the halls of the mansion.

"Oh, chain me up to the basement wall..."

~~~~~

"Everyone hates me!"

Remy dropped the paper on the dozing Jubilee sprawled across his lap.  She swatted at it, mumbled, and buried her face in his shirt.  He turned his head in time to see Jean sink to the floor crying.

"You're all insensitive pigs!"  She threw her sponge at Remy.  It hit Jubilee, who sat up and scowled at her, growling like Logan.

Remy groaned as Jubilee's weight caught him firmly in the crotch and he tried to shift her.  "Move, P'tite!  Dat ain't a good spot t'sit!  Rogue might need dat someday!"

She turned her glare onto him, but condescended to move a few inches.

He slumped in relief, but it was short lived as a bellow from Wolverine straightened his spine.

"Cajun!  You've drunk my beer fer the last time!"

  Logan barreled through the door, adamantium claws out and ready to skewer his "pal" Remy, who'd taken his last method of coping with the damned weepy, emotional women: his beer.  He was still wet from Jean propelling him into the pool over the stupid pizza, his drenched shirt unbuttoned, sticking soddenly to his skin.

Jubilee stared, mouth opening.  Rippling muscles...mmm.... She licked her lips and got to her feet, managing to hit Remy twice more in the groin.  "Bobby, " she said clearly as she headed for the door.

"Say yer prayers, Cajun!"

"I can't find Scott!"  Jean wailed, "He hates me, I know he does!"

"Remy didn't drink it!  Does Remy smell like beer?"

"...We'll regret it tomorrow, tonight we won't sleep..." Rogue weaved past the doorway, warming to the song, heading for the front door.

Logan deflated instantly.  There went his beer.  Well fuck.  The fumes of beer drifting off the woman were quite heavy.  What the blue fuck had Rogue done, bathed in it?  He started after her, tripping as Jean grabbed his ankles. "Dammit Jean, let go!"  Once more, he'd bitten his tongue and tasted blood.

Remy ran past him. "Rogue, Cher..."

"You all hate me!  You're out to get me with your piggish ways!  Where's Scott?"  Jean crouched above him, hair wild, just like in his fantasies.  Too bad he wasn't enjoying it more...."Where are you hiding him you hairy monster?!"

"What's going on?"  Scott set the Miracle Grow on a table in the hall.  "Rogue's out front flying in circles about seven feet off the ground with Remy hanging off her waist.  She's singing something about the Marquess de Sade...."

Jean wiped her eyes. "Beasts, all of you!  None of you understand..." She focused on Scott, took in his jacket and the keys in his hand.  "Where the hell have you been all day?  I turn around and you run off like some guilty schoolboy!  Where is the slut!  Who is she?  I want her name and I want it now!  Don't think I won't turn your brains to tapioca!"

Logan sat up, glaring at Scott.  "Who ate all the pizza, bub?"

"Uh..." Oh shit.

"...Make me watch re-runs of Lassie and Ben..."  Rogue flew into the hall, Gambit still clutching her waist, his face pressed to her breasts, feet scrambling to find some purchase on the floor.  If she slammed into a wall, he'd probably suffocate.

Not in all a bad way to die, Logan thought, but not today.  He got to his feet, pushed past Scott and leapt upward, catching Rogue's legs.  This was going to hurt.

She lost her height.  The three of them crashed onto the stairs, rolled into a heap at the bottom, Rogue splayed out on the floor, Logan and Remy holding her down.  She belched, hiccupped.

"...For the Marquess de Sade and glory!" She and Logan finished together.

"One more time!"  Rogue opened her mouth, then frowned.  "Ah'm gonna be sick."

Both men hurried off her, Remy guiding her into the hall bathroom.

Storm wandered down the stairs, stepping delicately past Logan as though nothing were out of the ordinary.  Her eyes lit on the box of Miracle Grow.  "What is this?"

"Miracle Grow it looks like."  Logan got to his feet.  He could hear Rogue heaving in the bathroom.  Ororo's eyes now fixed on him and he tried not to cringe.

"What idiot bought it?"

"Wasn't me, 'Ro."  One beer, that's all I ask, one beer, with a bottle of Jack as a chaser.

"Well, if it was not you, then which idiot was it?"

"Hell if I know."

Jean stalked by, dragging Scott by the collar of his shirt up the stairs.  He stumbled, but she didn't relent.

Whip time, Scotty boy, Logan thought nastily.

"I'm so sure, Scott.  Like Ororo would want Miracle Grow.  That story's so full of holes I could fly the Blackbird through them.  Fess up.  Who's the whore?!"

"No one!"

"Yeah right."

They turned the corner.

Ororo turned her nose up, sniffed and queenly made her way towards the back of the manor.

"Place is a fuckin' loony bin, today."  Cigars.  He needed cigars.

"But Cher," the bathroom door opened, Rogue weaving out, Remy right behind her, "jus' 'cause you tossed it all up don't mean you need t'eat more."

"Ah'm hungry!  Ah need salty, Remy!"

Logan followed.  Maybe there was some beer in the pantry she'd overlooked in the feeding frenzy.  He was desperate enough to drink warm beer.  Yuck.

"Gotta be salty here somewhere..."

Wolverine ignored the southern belle, stepping into the shambles of the pantry, looking in vain for some beer, unaware that, at that moment, he resembled Jubilee during her futile hunt for the Midol.

"Logan, sugah?"

His eyes flickered over to Rogue in the pantry doorway, blocking his way, her impressive chest thrust out. "What?"

"Do ya think Ah'm pretty?"

"Cher, leave de man alone.  He huntin' fer beer."  Remy tried to clean up, throwing away empty containers, but was soon overwhelmed by the gargantuan task, as Rogue had trashed the kitchen.

"Beer?  Ah know where there's beer."  She belched again.

"You do?"  Wolverine's tone was edged in desperation. "You better not be playin' with me, Darlin'."

She smiled suggestively, "Not like Ah could follow through or nothin'," then moved to the beer cans littering the floor.  Rogue dropped onto her butt.  "Beer right here."  Lifting one empty can, she shook it, turned it upside down. "Oops.  Ah forgot.  Beer go bye-bye."  She waved.  "Bye-bye.  Bye-bye beer.  Beer all gone."

"I'm gonna kill 'er, Gumbo.  I'm gonna kill 'er and no jury with men on it will convict me.  Justifiable homicide."

"Jubilee, let go of me!"  Bobby came in, Jubilee hanging on to his side.  Her arms were wrapped about his neck; her legs wrapped about one leg.  He had a large hickey on the side of his neck and red lipstick on his cheeks.  He made a beeline for Wolverine, prying Jubilee's hands loose.  "Let go!"

"No!"

"Please!"

"No!"

"Jubes!"

"No!"

In a move born out of desperation, which both Remy and Logan fully understood, Bobby pushed Jubilee towards Logan as soon as her hands were loose.  The older man caught her reflexively, and for a second, she hung between them, before Bobby turned his leg to ice and slipped free.  Not even ten seconds later, he was out the kitchen door.

"Don't let the door hitcha in the ass!"   Jubilee began crying, turning against Wolverine and locking herself around him.  "He hates me!"

"Neatly done."  Remy mumbled.  "Dat boy deserves a medal."

"Beer.  I gotta get beer."  Logan would almost welcome an attack by the Sentinels or Victor Creed right now, Jubilee's arms tightening around him.

"Don't leave me, Wolvie!"

"Bye-bye beer." Rogue crawled across the kitchen floor, tossing aside empty cans.

"Maybe you should go sleep it off, Cher."

"Darlin', let go."  How to best remove her from him before he completely lost his sanity?

"Promise me something first."

"What's that?"

"I need a c.d.  U2."  She rattled off the c.d. and the name of a song.  "I need it.  I have to have it.  I'll die if I don't get it now!"

Oh no, not pleading puppy-dog...shit.  "Sure, Darlin'," he heard himself say, "I'll get it for you.  You want the whole c.d. or a single?"

"C.D.  Wolvie, I gotta have the c.d.  It's, like, majorly important to have the whole c.d.  They're great.  I mean, U2 is such a cool band, I swear, you'll love 'em.  I hear 'em on the radio all the time an' they're soooo cool, I gotta have the c.d.  Promise you'll buy it!   Please?  Please, please, please, please, please, please, pleeeeeease!"

"Jus' say yes, Logan, make her stop whinin'." Remy slid into a chair, watched the love of his life crawl on the floor, her rear in the air.  Dammit, he was about needing the Midol.

"You're sure it's U2 you want?"

Yes."

"Absolutely?"

"Yes."

"Positively?"

"Yes."

"One hundred percent?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll buy it.  You're not gonna get mad if it's not what you wanted?"

Her expression was a stricken one.  "Wolvie!  I wouldn't do that!"

He declined to comment as Jubilee slipped into the hall. "Back later, Gumbo."  His eyes widened.  Rogue wasn't behaving very lady-like, wigglin' like that.  In fact, she reminded him of a stripper he'd once known named Mickey.... Mickey had been Southern, too.... He cleared his throat.  "Hey, Gumbo, you know your woman is wavin' her ass in the air?"

Remy looked at him.  "Won't be too long now 'fore she passes out..." he mumbled.

~~~~~

"I had to go to three different stores before I found one that had any on stock; otherwise I would have been back sooner.  Really, Jean, there is no woman."

She crossed her arms. "You don't love me anymore, do you?  That's it, isn't it?  You just don't know how to say it.  Well, be honest with me, Scott."

"I do love you, Jean.  You're my life.  I'd be lost without you."

"Bullshit!  You're an insensitive pig who only cares about himself!  You never clean up after yourself...."

He sighed.  She'd been on a roll for over fifteen minutes now, and his brain was numbing.

"You...you..."  Jean looked at him.  Up.  Down.  Up.  Down.  He sure looked good in those jeans.  Nice, tight rear...She moved behind him, placed her hands on his waist, "you wanna fool around," slid them around...

Scott tensed, in more ways then one.  "Uh, Jean?"

"Mmm-hmmm?  You incredibly sexy thing you.  Come over to Jean and bring little one-eye with you."  She turned him, yanked his head down, lips locking on his.  Stay calm, he thought.  Don't show fear and maybe she won't hurt you.  His shirt ripped, buttons flying, tiny projectiles pinging as they hit objects.

Jean dragged him to their bed, pushed him down and reached for the waist of his jeans with a wicked smile.  "Relax and let me do all the work."

"O-okay."

And then it was better than okay.

~~~~~

Never before had he realized just how long the trek from the kitchen to Rogue's room was.  Of course, he usually wasn't carrying her either.  Remy shifted her and groaned. "I love ya, Cher, but p'haps next time ya pass out in de kitchen I leave you dere, non?"

She snored softly.

Remy staggered on, finally reaching her room as his knees buckled.  He dropped her onto her bed.  Rogue mumbled, smacked her lips.  "Mmm...salty 'n sweet..."

He collapsed beside her.  "Cher, maybe you shouldn'ta had dat whole bucket a fried chicken."

Remy unbuttoned her outer shirt, exposing her body stocking. "You gonna get on de scale tomorrow an' be pissed.  Gambit predict dis.  Cher, you can' eat like you did today an' expect t'keep from gainin' weight, so Gambit gonna stay outta yer way tomorrow." He worked her jeans from her.  She lay still, passed out, now just wearing her body stocking, and Remy tossed a blanket over her, then turned her onto her side in case she threw up.  "You gonna be so hung over in de mornin'.  What were you thinking, drinkin' all o'dat beer of Logan's?"  He sighed.  "I check on you in a bit, 'kay Cher?"

She snored louder and he left quietly, making his way back to the rec room.  Maybe he could finish the paper....

It was gone and Jubilee was in front of the t.v.

"You seen de paper, P'tite?"

"It was cluttering the table, so I threw it out."

"You t'rew it out?"

"Yeah, it was real messy in here, so I straightened a little."

A little?  The room was practically shining.  Wood gleamed and his makeshift ashtray was gone.

"Remy?"

Maybe she'd let him watch the news.  "What?"

"Where is everyone?"

"Anyone in p'ticular?"

"No."She shook her head, flipped the channel to Sally Jessy Raphael, which was just coming on.  "It's just, everyone's disappeared an' there's no one to talk to, an' I'm lonely.  Watch t.v. with me."

Sally, on the screen, introduced her first guest; a woman whose husband was a control freak and never let her do anything.  Remy glanced between the screen and Jubilee.  "Uh...."

"Please?" Jubilee turned in her seat on the couch, arms crossed on the back, chin resting on them, staring up at him, her blue eyes large and pleading.

It works every time, he thought darkly.  All she has to do is look at me..."Okay, P'tite.  Move over."  He sat beside her, somehow not surprised when she dumped a pillow in his lap, lay down and moved his hand to her back.

"Still hurts.  Same place.  Rub."

Rub my back, buy me sweet and salty, clean up or I'll hurt you.

Whipped.  He was whipped.

"Hey, Remy, do you think I'm pretty?"

Remy gulped.

~~~~~

"Twenty-five dollars."  Logan mumbled, shoving cases of beer into the fridge. "Twenty-five stinkin' dollars for a c.d. she'll bitch about.  Overpriced junk.  Why do I do it?  Why, when I know she's gonna bitch?  She's a teenager, for cryin' out loud!  Why...?"  Logan sat back on his haunches.  "Oh God, I'm whipped.  A fifteen-year-old girl has me whipped."

~~~~~

He was ashamed to admit it, but he was actually getting into the program.  Remy'd developed a rhythm of sorts, his hand massaging Jubilee's back, giving ample attention to each area, while his other hand stroked through her hair and rubbed her temple.

"Well, ain't this cozy."  Wolverine dropped Jubilee's c.d. onto the couch by her stomach.  "Damn thing was expensive, kid."

"Thank you, Wolvie."  She replied obediently.  "Oh cool, you bought the whole c.d."

"You asked me to."  Here it comes....

Jubilee squinted at it, then frowned that 'you're such an adult idiot' frown that fifteen year olds are so good at.  "Uh...Wolvie?"

"Yes, Darlin'?"  He mouthed her next words along with her.

"This isn't the one I asked for."

"Yes it is."  Logan replied affably.  (He'd slammed five beers in the kitchen upon realizing she had him whipped.)

"No, it isn't."

Remy pressed the volume up control on the remote.

"Sure it is.  Gumbo was there, ask him."

"Remy?"

"I don't know her, never met her, she said she was eighteen."  He mumbled.

"Send Jeannie next time, Darlin', 'cause I ain't psychic."  Logan handed Remy a plastic insulated mug with a lid.  "Here ya go, Cajun. thought you'd like a drink."

"What about me?" Jubilee tossed the c.d. onto the table.

He lifted a large milkshake from the floor beside him.  "Chocolate.  Enjoy."

She accepted it.

Remy lifted the mug and took a long swallow.  He choked on the liquid and turned watering eyes to Wolverine.

"Enjoy yer drink, Gumbo, I'll be in the Danger Room."

Jubilee settled back down, her drink angled so she could reach the straw.  She sighed.  Mindless talk shows, chocolate, and someone to rub the aching spot on her lower back.  Life was good.

With a smile, Remy relaxed, hard liqueur warming his belly.  Dat Logan; what a guy!  He took a long swallow.  "You comf'table, P'tite?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Good.  So's Remy."

Finally.

~~~~~

Slowly, inch by inch, Scott eased Jean off his chest, taking exaggerated care not to wake her.  Let her sleep.  Please God, let her sleep.  He moved from the bed and went into the bathroom to dress.  A package on the counter caught his attention.

Midol.  A full bottle.

Praise the Lord, he mouthed, taking up the package.

It rattled and Jean mumbled.

Scott peered into the bedroom through a crack in the door, but Jean merely turned over.  He released a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he was holding in, and made his way--tiptoeing--to the hall door.

Once in the hall, he sighed audibly.

"Hey Scott...!"

"Sshhh!"

Bobby glanced at the door and lowered his voice to a whisper.  "Sorry.  Who's doing dinner?  Rogue was supposed to, but she'd obviously in no shape to."

"I will.  It'll be ready about six-thirty."  He held out the Midol.  "Here.  See if you can get two or three of these down Jubilee."

"Pardon the language fearless leader, but no fucking way in hell.  I'm not going near her.  Have you noticed what she did to me?"  Bobby pointed to his neck.

Scott pushed the bottle at him. "Hey, we're all making sacrifices today; your just happens to be in a hickey the size of Texas."

"Yeah?  What's your sacrifice?"

"You've perchance noticed the psycho psychic obsessed with cleaning whose aggressive tendencies rival Logan's?  You know, the one who accused me of cheating on her even though we share a mind-link and she'd know in a second?"

For a moment, Bobby was silent.  Then, he took the bottle.  "Where was Jubes last spotted?"

"Try the rec room."

~~~~~

That's where Bobby found her.  She and Remy were on one long couch, her head on a pillow on his lap.  She appeared to be dozing, while the man was engrossed in a talk show.  Bobby sat by Jubilee's feet, stretched out, then raised the Midol bottle and shook it.  Her reaction was instantaneous.

Her eyes opened wide, fixing unblinkingly on the bottle.  She sat, neatly reversed, threw herself onto him and grabbed the bottle.  "Where'd you get this?"  Jubilee demanded, prying the lid off.

Relief in sight.  Must take pills.

"It was in the hall bathroom."  He lied.  Why fuel her delusion that some woman had stolen it?

"But I checked there."

"Take dem, P'tite." Remy gestured to the pills in her palm. "You feel all better in a bit.  Jus' take 'em."

"Did you look on the floor behind the trashcan?"

"No."

"Well, that's where it was."

Jubilee swallowed the pills with the last of her milkshake.

Remy and Bobby sighed.

She settled against Bobby.  "You stay here.  Watch t.v.  Remy go."

"You dismissin' Remy, Cher?"

Head settled on Bobby's shoulder, she grunted.

Remy wandered away, weaving.

~~~~~

Scott surveyed the kitchen with a long sigh.  Bags and food wrappers, dishes, pans and food were everywhere.  The island was ripped from its base, like it was every month, and beer cans littered the floor.  The trashcan was completely full.  Shaking his head, Scott slowly began picking up, having a care for the muscles he was sure he'd sprained in sexual acrobatics with Jean.