maybe he’d enjoyed it. He burrowed beneath the blankets as Thiago climbed in with him, and when he poked his head back out from beneath the blanket to turn off the lamp, Shawn and Remy were gone. They hadn’t made a sound as they left, and Carl
shivered as Thiago pulled him close and sighed heavily.
“Trouble brewing?” Thiago asked him softly.
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“If there isn’t, I’ll eat my boots,” Carl murmured in answer.
“Go take a shower!” Nikolaus demanded of Brandt as he tried to run him out
of the other bed.
X.
SHAWN hesitated briefly as he watched Remy fall onto the bed. He glanced over at
the other bed and swayed on his feet, wondering which one he should climb into.
Would Remy want him close after he had behaved so horribly? Brandt had said he
would have hated Shawn after such a display. Brandt and Remy were so very much
alike, Remy probably hated him too.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a whisper as he stood indecisively between the
beds.
“Un transport,” Remy mumbled in answer. Shawn knew from his experience
with the Cajun that it meant he couldn’t sit still. Usually when he used the phrase, he was referring to having the jitters or being restless. Tonight Shawn thought it had a different meaning. But if Remy could make a joke, then he was okay.
He didn’t know what else to say about the little scene in the other room. He
couldn’t remember ever watching another man fuck Remy just for the pleasure of it.
It had been unsettling and, with Brandt the one doing the fucking, it had hammered home a few of the confusing feelings Shawn was dealing with.
He took a dejected step toward the empty bed.
“Please don’t,” Remy said in a small, pleading voice. Shawn looked at him
inquiringly. He sat in the bed now with his back propped against the headboard,
looking at Shawn warily.
“Don’t what?” Shawn asked carefully as he took a step toward Remy and
reached to turn off one of the lamps.
“Please don’t sleep over there,” Remy said quietly. “Not tonight. It’s been
three months.” If Shawn hadn’t known better, he would have thought Remy was
about to break down and cry.
Shawn nodded solemnly and crawled into the bed hesitantly. He sat beside
Remy, his entire body tense and his brain working on overdrive. He was unsure of
what to do. It was an odd feeling for Shawn, who rarely had difficulty deciding on a course of action. But not knowing how to behave with regards to Remy was unheard
of for him. He’d never felt discomfort of any sort around Remy. Not until now.
‘So this is what guilt feels like,’ he thought grimly. He lowered his head in shame as he thought back on some of the things he’d said when Remy startled them
all out of their sleep. He didn’t even want to begin to think about the feelings he had for Brandt, or about confessing them.
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“Shawn?” Remy ventured softly.
“I’m sorry, Dixie,” Shawn murmured. He felt Remy move on the bed, but he
suddenly knew he couldn’t raise his eyes and look into Remy’s face. He couldn’t face those earnest brown eyes any more than he could look at himself in the mirror right now. The shame washed over him again and he squeezed his eyes closed to combat it.
Remy’s hand came to rest lightly on Shawn’s shoulder, and the contact
startled the older man to the point that he shook off Remy’s hand before he could stop the impulse. He couldn’t bear to have Remy touch him; he didn’t feel worthy of it.
Shawn looked up sharply when he heard a noise from Remy he had never thought to
hear.
Remy sniffed again and drew his knees up to his chest. He rested his chin
miserably on his folded arms and he looked at Shawn pitifully.
“Oh, God, Remy, no. Don’t do that. I can’t handle that,” Shawn stuttered as
he watched a tear run slowly down Remy’s cheek and into the stubble on his chin.
Shawn shook his head as Remy’s shoulders slumped. “No. Remy. Please, don’t cry
on me. Christ,” he pleaded desperately as Remy buried his head in his arms and his shoulders began to shake.
Shawn froze and watched in desperation. What was he to do? He had made
Remy cry, for fuck’s sake! Remy had never cried in his presence before! Even when he’d shot him in the ass, Remy hadn’t cried!
He put his hand out tentatively to try and comfort the younger man, and just
as his hand made contact with the quivering shoulder, Remy snorted.
“You wanker!” Shawn shouted angrily as Remy looked up at him and
grinned impishly. “I thought you were crying, you little twat!”
Remy covered his mouth and laughed silently and Shawn shoved him. Remy
sprawled sideways on the bed and Shawn moved quickly to straddle him, digging his fingers into Remy’s ribs mercilessly until Remy was laughing so hard he couldn’t
breathe and was begging for Shawn to stop.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Shawn warned finally, pointing his finger
in Remy’s face and letting his body relax against the younger man’s.
“I couldn’t resist it, you looked so… forlorn,” Remy said with another snort.
He slapped his hand over his mouth to cover the snorts and widened his eyes
innocently as he looked up at Shawn.
Shawn rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back, and Remy remained where
he was beside him, staring up at the ceiling and sniggering quietly. Shawn marveled at Remy’s ability to completely hijack his thoughts and feelings with so little effort.
Remy had known Shawn was beating himself up, and this was his way of accepting
the apology Shawn had barely even made.
The knowledge made Shawn feel even worse than before. Now he was
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certain he didn’t deserve Remy’s loyalty. He didn’t think anyone deserved something so pure.
“You deserved it,” Remy muttered after several moments of silence.
“What?” Shawn asked in shock. He’d once suspected that Remy could read
minds, but that theory had since been debunked. Primarily because a supernaturally enabled Remy really should have been able to sense that bullet heading toward his ass, but also if Remy could read minds he would have killed Shawn by now.
“You a big big couyon. You deserved a good fake cry.”
“Shut it, you bugger,” Shawn grumbled.
“You called me a liar.”
“You are a liar.”
“Only when I say ‘oh Shawn! You’re the best I ever had,’” Remy said, his
voice going into a horrible falsetto and his hands clasping beneath his chin as he simpered at Shawn.
“Don’t bat your eyelashes at me,” Shawn growled.
“How do you know I was?” Remy asked innocently
“I just know,” Shawn proclaimed confidently.
“You called me a whore,” Remy reminded him, apparently choosing to
bypass the eyelash conversation for greener pastures.
“You are a whore, Remy. Biggest man-whore I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah,” Remy said wistfully. Shawn grinned and brought his hand up to
twirl Remy’s hair absently. It had grown long in their absence from one another, and Shawn played with a curl as he let fatigue and relief wash over him. He’d missed the younger man a great deal. They remained silent for some time, and Shawn was almost asleep when Remy’s sad voice reached him.
“You called me a traitor,” he said qui
etly. Shawn’s eyes snapped open and
he sucked in a painful breath. Here was the conversation he had been dreading. One of them, anyway. He looked over at Remy, but the younger man was still looking up at the ceiling unblinkingly. Shawn rolled and placed his hand gently on Remy’s cheek and forced him to turn his head and look at him. Remy’s dark eyes glistened in the lamplight, and Shawn frowned at him.
“You’d better not be taking the piss again, Dixie, I swear to God–”
“Shawn,” Remy said in wavering voice. Shawn snapped his mouth closed
and his eyes widened in surprise. Remy was serious this time. “Did you mean it?” the younger man asked.
“What?”
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“Do you think me a traitor?” Remy asked miserably.
“Remy,” Shawn said hesitantly. Remy looked at him sternly, obviously
expecting a real answer. “I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Arrête-toi. You always think clearly,” Remy said in disgust.
“Do you… do you have any idea what it was like?” Shawn asked angrily.
Remy furrowed his brow and stared up at Shawn unfalteringly. “I thought you were
dead! I thought I’d lost you, and I was trying to get my mind around how I was
supposed to live the rest of my life without you! Do you’ve any idea what that’s
like?”
Remy’s brow knitted further and he swallowed hard as he looked up at
Shawn. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to take in all of Shawn’s features at once, and the mix of despair and anger and guilt and lust that Shawn had been feeling throughout the night came surging forth once more.
“It fucks with your mind!” Shawn yelled in frustration, trying to validate his
boorish behavior, to both himself and Remy. “When you came waltzing back in here
with that stupid fucking grin on your face I didn’t know what to think! And then you started talking about John and turning and finding the Archer and joining him and… I could have bloody well killed you! I almost did kill you! What were you thinking, sneaking in like that?”
“Te en colaire?” Remy asked in alarm.
“I’m not angry,” Shawn answered defensively.
“You sound angry,” Remy insisted incredulously. “You’re angry that I
escaped? You’re angry that I came back? Why?”
“M’not angry,” Shawn said in a low voice. “Frustrated, maybe,” he added
softly as he loosened his grip on Remy’s arm and pushed away from him.
“Co faire?” Remy asked in confusion.
“Would you speak English, please? Knock off the damn mumbo jumbo for
one fucking minute,” Shawn demanded angrily as he pushed up and away. He knew it
was a low blow. Remy always spoke in a jumble when he was distracted or
distraught. It was one of the many idiosyncrasies Shawn loved about him, and he
knew he shouldn’t bitch about it.
“You’re trying to distract me,” Remy accused in a slightly hurt voice.
Shawn shifted until his back was against the headboard and he huffed. “Is it
working?” he asked softly, not bothering to deny it.
“Mais non, it’s not working,” Remy asserted indignantly as he turned to face Shawn and scowled at him.
They stared at one another for several long moments. Shawn knew he was
stalling. He knew that what he really needed to do was apologize, then confess all his
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sins, and then apologize again. But he couldn’t possibly confess all his sins. He didn’t think even Remy’s loyalty stretched that far.
Instead, he simply looked at the younger man, taking in the cuts and the
bruises, some of them older than others. His wrists had fading bruises on them and there was a welt across his chest that looked as if he had run into something hot. The wound on his arm was definitely a gunshot wound, and his cheek was turning red
where Shawn had hit him. Finally, Shawn couldn’t look at him any longer. He looked away and stared at the dark corner of the hotel room.
“You smell like strawberries,” he muttered as Remy sat silently beside him.
“Shower stuff,” Remy murmured with a flush as he looked away as well.
Shawn smiled slightly and ducked his head. “I’m sorry,” he offered softly.
“You feel guilty about something,” Remy responded in a whisper.
Shawn huffed and swung his feet out of the bed. He headed toward the
bathroom with his head down, unable to face the conversation. He knew he wasn’t a coward, but he also knew this was fight he was afraid to have.
“Where are you going?” Remy called after him.
“Toilet,” Shawn grunted as he walked unsteadily toward the bathroom.
“Careful, Beignet,” Remy called softly. “The floor’s wet in there.”
“Do I want to know why?” Shawn asked as he flipped on the light and
looked around at the several towels on the floor, hypothetically there to soak up the water. The entire room smelled strongly of strawberry. Shawn stood there looking at the scene and wondering which one of those pansies in the other room used
strawberry bath crème.
Remy startled him by slipping his arms around Shawn’s waist and resting his
chin on Shawn’s shoulder. He would never get used to how silently Remy could
move. Usually Shawn had to key in on the brush of denim or the creak of leather, the click of a boot heel or even the tapping sound Remy’s ring made on his gun when he was nervous or impatient. Shawn was able to use all those things to track Remy’s
movements, but when Remy was unclothed and unarmed, Shawn couldn’t for the life
of him keep track.
“You don’t wanna know,” Remy said to him confidently.
“Was he good then?” Shawn asked curiously, his head tilting to the side as
he tried to look sideways at Remy.
Remy answered with a slow, slightly unfocused grin.
“Interesting,” Shawn murmured thoughtfully. “That’s what Thiago said,
too.”
Remy laughed softly. “We can fight tomorrow,” he whispered hopefully.
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“Fais do do,” he announced as the fatigue caught up with him. He turned back around to trudge to the closest bed.
Shawn had asked several times what that phrase meant, and from what he
understood it had something to do with going to bed. Or having a big party,
depending on which Cajun he asked. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom,
watching as Remy’s shadowed form slid under the covers.
Shawn quickly washed up and followed. He crawled into the bed uncertainly
and rested his head on the pillow next to Remy’s. It had been so long since they’d been like this. Shawn felt the guilt begin to ebb, slowly being replaced by the sheer power of Remy’s presence.
“Tell me about your three months with Niko,” Shawn prompted as Remy lay
looking at him in the darkness.
Remy was silent for a long moment. “Not much to tell,” he finally answered
thoughtfully. “Niko’s a scrapper. He’ll do okay. How did you and Brandt get on?” he asked.
Shawn caught his breath and closed his eyes. He took a long moment to clear
his mind. “I have to tell you something, Dixie,” he said slowly, trying to stall so he could formulate his words. “And it’s not going to be easy so– ”
“Shawn, wait. I–”
“Please let me do this without interrupting,” Shawn said in a low voice. “I’ll
drive myself mad if I don’t get it out. I don’t know how to say this, so… I think…
I think I may have fallen in love with him,” Shawn admitted in a whispered rush of
words. He saw Remy stiffen in the moonlight that filtered through the heavy drapes.
He waited for several long, heartbreaking moments, but Remy neither moved nor
spoke and Shawn began to worry about him. He wasn’t even breathing. “Dixie?”
Remy responded by letting out a long, slow exhalation, and his body relaxed
again in the bed next to Shawn. “I kinda had a feeling it was something like that,” he said quietly.
“Remy, I–”
“My indiscretions don’t seem so important now,” Remy interrupted in a
murmur. Shawn swallowed heavily and reached out to touch him. He expected Remy
to pull away from him, but to his surprise and relief Remy turned his head to rub his cheek against Shawn’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” Shawn whispered. “It doesn’t change what I said before,” he
said hopefully, trying to ease the pain of his confession by any means available to him.
Remy sniffed disbelievingly. “Doesn’t matter much, now. I was so worried
about loyalty…,” he sighed and shook his head. Shawn swallowed heavily and waited for the rest of what Remy had to say. “Some of the things McTiernan told me… he’s
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watching us, Shawn.”
“Remy…,” Shawn responded uncertainly.
Remy wasn’t taking his confession exactly the way he had expected. He was
also using a classic Bergeron diversion technique; throw a sliver of important
information out in order to keep your opponent off balance and move him away from an unwanted discussion. That was how Remy struck. He would wave his hand in one
direction and kick you in the ass from the other. He called it the ‘Shiny Thing
Approach.’ Distraction. Diversion. What the fuck ever he wanted to call it, it was damn effective.
“What’s this about John watching us, then?” Shawn asked with difficulty.
“Not John. The Archer,” Remy responded with a long sigh. “Look, we’ll talk
about it in the morning. Had a long day.”
Shawn could give him that. The younger man had to be exhausted. When