Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lorna was nervously flexing her fingers as she sat at the small table in the little coffee shop. She had just signed on with an up-and-coming record label as part of a revival of a band she had formerly been the drummer for, and she knew just who she wanted to play bass and perform backup vocals.

The ragin’ cajun Remy Lebeau.

Remy had recently quit his band “The X-men” after his on-again off-again relationship with the then current lead female singer had taken a hard turn to off-again. They both had quit, in fact, after it was discovered by the paparazzi that she had been sneaking away to a well-known rival music producer’s mansion and some questionable photos had been taken.

If Lorna seemed jittery about how this meeting would go, it was because that producer was her father.

It had taken her weeks to get a call-back from Remy. The magazines were claiming the heartthrob was drowning in sorrow. She knew that meant heavy drinking and sticking his pole in any hole he could find. Half of the reason she figured he was coming was to try to sleep with her as some sort of revenge fuck against her father.

“Good luck.” She mumbled to herself at that thought as she continued fidgeting with the bangles on one of her wrists, and turned her head to look around the cafe on the off-chance she had somehow managed to miss his flamboyance entering the less than 500 square foot room. The star drummer had bad luck in the love department and was quite jaded on all matters of the opposite sex.

“Outta jail already?,” Remy’s voice purred embarrassingly loud from across the teeny space as he ducked to enter through the too small front door., “Remy surprised you don’ wanna meet at a bar.”

“Mandatory AA meetings are a part of my parole. Also, not drinking.” She had been having bad luck in every aspect of her life if truth be told. Remy casually sauntered up and dropped in the chair across from her with the ease of a house cat.

“Well, you did attack yo’ brotha’ wit’ a broken beer bottle… but it not like you did anythin’ no one else wit’ a lick a sense wouldn’ a done.” He started searching his person for a lighter. Her half-brother, Pietro, was notoriously disliked in the industry by a variety of people for a plethora of reasons.

“Yeah… I may have been out of line though… it was a rough night. Week. Month.” She pulled her hands under the table and pursed her lips as she stared at her untouched coffee as if willing it to become beer.

“If deh rag got any truth to it, you was bound ta’ break soonah or latuh.” Lighter out, he moved to pull out a pack of cigarettes. Having finished packing the small box, he pulled out one white stick and placed it seamlessly in the dip on his full bottom lip. “So, whatchu want wit’ Remy?”

The smile on his lips would have immediately dropped the panties of a lesser human, but Lorna’s resolve was strong and her patience was limited. “I recently signed on with a new label.”

“What dat got ta do wit’ Remy?,” was the immediately bored response.

“You no longer perform with The X-men, and I need a bassist who knows his shit.” The cajun no longer seemed bored.

Red eyes studied green ones suspiciously until he asked, “Who da producer?”

“Snow from Serval.”

“No.”

“What?” She was dumbfounded.

“You heard Remy.” He lit his cigarette, and stared out of the window next to them.

“Why not?”

“Remy don’ work for no no-name label.” The smoke was irritating enough, the logic was infuriating.

“You work with no-name artists all the time through your no-name label, Thieves Guild. I’m trying to get together some of the best names to make a kick-ass band, and you’re going to shit on that because it’s a new record label company?” Her voice had become an agitated whisper of disbelief as she slowly encroached on his table space with her whole upper body.

“Dat’s ta help dem get a start,” was his dismissive remark.

“So, this no-name record label doesn’t deserve a start? Why?” She leaned heavily back into her chair in agitation to escape the smoke and Remy’s increasingly irritating presence.

“Remy busy.”

“Doing what? Smoking weed and fucking everything in L.A. in some feeble attempt to piss off Anna while she porks her way to the top of the charts after remaining celibate while you two were together?,” The look on his face told her to stop, but she was nothing if not terrible at stopping herself from going too far, “She’s not going to notice, because that’s what you did while you two were together.”

The various shades of emotion that filtered through his uncommon red eyes were aggressive enough to make Lorna wary of any physical moves, but Remy was a notorious lover, not a notorious fighter. The look of defeat he settled on made her feel worse than if he had physically lashed out at her.

“You right.” He mumbled as he broke her gaze to stare at the cigarette he had pulled from between his lips. “Who deez otha’ big names you mention?”

She gave a mental sigh of relief and pushed on, “That’s… still a work in progress… You were the first person I thought of.”

The last sentence was simply thrown in there to stroke his ego, though not far from the truth. “Chere, flattery will git you everywhere.”

Chapter Text

Lorna was excited to introduce Remy to President Snow prior to the lawyers getting involved to begin negotiations. Snow was A&R. A&R was the department responsible for signing on new talent. Since Serval was such a new label, Snow, the founder, wore many hats.

However, entering Snow’s office the next day with Remy took a turn for the worse. An all too familiar spiky platinum blond head was poking out from the top of a chair facing Snow's desk. They were engaged in a conversation with the president. Upon entering the room, the person in the leather swivel chair lazily rotated to face the two visitors. It was Pietro. His face was an arrogant mask of feigned amusement.

“Sonovabitch.” Remy was instantly annoyed. Pietro was the asshole son of the man currently screwing his ex. On top of that, he was notorious for switching bands at the drop of a hat and taking work in progress songs with him. No one trusted him, but they tolerated him because he was stupidly brilliant at the guitar. The industry had dubbed him Quicksilver because of his ridiculously quick hands which could play at any speed and his fantastic riffs. He could complement any singer and any song. Hell, he improved everything he touched in the musical process. He was a complete fuck up in every other regard, but he had a team of excellent lawyers.

He was a catty, sneaky, clever, rich and self absorbed dick.

“What’s he doing here?” Lorna snapped. Quicksilver's expression was smug.

“Nice to see you too, sis.” There was a strong emphasis on the word ‘sis’. They were half-siblings who had been raised separately. Lorna came into the picture at a later date than the twins. Quite the tabloid scandal, especially since her age meant she was conceived when the twins’ mother was still alive and battling cancer while married to their father. Interestingly enough, Lorna had pursued music under the stage name of Polaris independently before she learned of her parentage.

“Pietro heard of our endeavor and requested to sign on as our guitarist.” was Snow's simple response. Lorna was feeling a plethora of emotions.

On the one hand, “We don't need him.”

On the other hand, “Nonsense. He's a recognizable name. Besides, I've already initiated the negotiation process with his lawyers.”

Lorna's face screwed up in barely controlled rage. She really wanted a drink and had to remind herself adamantly of why she needed sobriety.

“I've also found a few others who will be joining the All New X-Factor. Catchy, right?” This peaked the green-Haired woman's interest.

“Who!?” She had been so worried they would be unable to find more big names willing to join. She wanted to hug Snow, though he was a bit cold, so she would never actually do that.

“Well, Danger for starters.” Lorna's face dropped.

“The producer?” She asked warily. Snow beamed.

“That's the one!” Lorna pursed her lips. They could work with Danger. She had been the brains behind the scenes for the hooks, loops, and drops in the Xavier Institute’s best artist tracks. They were the record label for the X-Men and a bunch of spin offs. Danger never got a lot of recognition in her frequent collabs with the X-Men until she found a breach in her contract and managed to negotiate an exit. After that, she decided to go solo and found her own identity separate from the X-Men. Lorna respected her.

While she was a genius in her own right in the industry, she was also known as “difficult.” Though not as notorious as Quicksilver, she was known to not play well with others. She did not understand social cues which was occasionally misconstrued as her being a massive bitch. In reality, she was just oblivious and direct.

Honestly, Lorna didn't hate that.

“Who else?” She was still optimistic.

“Cypher.” Her face went blank. “And Warlock!” Lorna sat down in the swivel chair Pietro had vacated and said nothing.

“Didn' he have a complete meltdown an run away ta be a hermit?" Remy did not sound thrilled.

“... Yes.” Was Lorna's defeated reply. Cypher had been a member of the Xavier Institute pop group The New Mutants. He was the pretty vocal lead until he had a massive mental breakdown. He had been hiding in his mansion for months. His best friend, a keyboardist with the stage name of Warlock, had been the only one known to keep up with him. They both had left The New Mutants. "We… we can make this work.” Her sobriety depended on it.

Chapter Text

The paperwork was finalized a couple of months later after lots of fussing, lawyers and bizarre demands (mostly Remy’s demands).

One of the requirements, spurred by Pietro’s history of being a flight risk, was that the entire band worked and lived in a warehouse of sorts that comprised the studio while working on their debut album. There were furnished living quarters on the second floor and a full recording studio on the first floor.

Remy demanded several kittens he had adopted out of a trashcan while he was on a drinking bender were allowed to stay with him and that they had a budget for their supplies (litter, food and a toy stipend). He also demanded the right to bring in whoever he wanted to bang without any flack. Pietro had only a few nondescript demands, which Lorna found to be strange seeing as how high maintenance he had been her entire life, but it was usually related to Wanda in some way who was not here, for once. They were usually attached at the hip. Danger, Cypher and Warlock also had minimal demands. The only real prima donna was Remy.

At the conclusion of the ridiculous negotiations, Snow had organized a lavish dinner at a local restaurant to formally introduce everyone and toast to a successful partnership.

“Ugh.” Lorna had a few months of sobriety under her belt by now, and was annoyed by all of the champagne being brought to their table. They were in a private room above the club/restaurant. Remy was overindulging with Warlock, who was not legally allowed to drink. Danger and Pietro were not drinking a drop. Cypher was drinking just enough in a moody solitude.

“To new friends! Salut!” Snow cheered. The only ones to return the cheer were Remy and Warlock. Everyone else just stared.

“C’mon, Quicksilver. Get dat stick outta yo’ ass an’ have a drink.” Pietro moved his calculating gaze from Snow to Remy.

“No, thank you, Gambit. You're drinking enough for all of us.” The gaze slowly returned to Snow, “I understand we're to have an interview with Rolling Stone before we've even begun work on our first song or received our advance?”

Lorna perked up. She didn't know anything about an interview with Rolling Stone. Snow looked unsettled. Apparently it wasn't public knowledge yet. “I did have an interview lined up, but I was hoping to be the one to break the news. Cindy Parker interviews new talent and I managed to get her attention.”

“Isn't she kind of an asshole?” Lorna blurted out before biting her tongue.

“Not at all! I found her to be perfectly delightful when I explained who was playing in our band.” Lorna found herself looking at Pietro who was giving Snow a strained expression with narrowed eyes. Cindy Parker had written a scathing article on Pietro’s supposed cocaine addiction and promiscuity. Lorna had never seen Pietro do drugs or actually try to hook up with anyone. She assumed it was made up, but Pietro’s lawyers nailed the magazine to a wall and the issue was settled outside of court.

“Shouldn't we have a session together before we start drawing attention to ourselves?” Snow and Pietro both matched hard stares and the room grew silent with the quiet power struggle. The Serval president broke the silence first.

“Look, I've scheduled the interview for Monday. It's a done deal, and you all are professionals who are guaranteed to do great together.” Lorna looked around the room and could tell the others were not thrilled. Cindy had written a messed up article on just about everyone in the room. She was the equivalent of a gossip columnist who just so happened to work for a big name magazine.

She made fun of Cypher’s breakdown and major depressive disorder diagnosis by calling it a "pretend” mental illness to get out of work. She referred to Danger as the “Wannabe” and implied she was an ungrateful jerk for leaving the Xavier Institute since she would be unsuccessful on her own. Warlock was mocked for his foreignness, Lorna couldn't remember where he was from, and referred to as “the ugly one in the back” when he worked with The New Mutants. She had done a fairly tame article on Lorna's drinking after public opinion had slapped her for poking fun at Cypher's mental illness struggle. It was still not a nice article to read. She had not written anything about Remy, but that was probably because there was plenty of fodder out there already for her to feed off of.

“So be it.” Pietro stood, grabbed his jacket and left. The rest followed soon after.

The days leading up to the interview were awkward as they all tried to navigate sharing a living space. A few things were established in that time:

1. Remy had an “active” social life, the sounds of which could penetrate any wall at any time.
2. Pietro was obsessed with running, and ran constantly.
3. Doug, or Cypher, was actually a pretty nice dude.
4. Remy and Pietro mixed like oil and water when they interacted.
5. The cats were a wonderful addition.
6. Warlock was awkward and very obviously had a massive crush on Danger.
7. Danger was unaware of Warlock's existence.
8. Lorna was still sober and making better decisions. For example, she had finally put her ex-boyfriend, Alex Summers (current lead singer of The Avengers), on her "blocked" list.

Only Doug and Warlock really socialized with her. Pietro always seemed uncomfortable with any attempt to connect, and would suddenly have to "go on a run." Remy spent so much time in his bedroom with a revolving door of guests, she didn't really want to talk to him. Danger was indifferent to the existence of others. She focused on her work and was like a machine.

When the big day had arrived, the reporter for Rolling Stone was wearing way too much make-up. Lorna had jokingly whispered that several species went extinct only to wind up on the woman’s face. Danger took it literally and had to be begged not to bring it up when the interview started.

“So, here we are with the newest formation of X-Factor.” The blonde tried to come off as bubbly, but there was something vicious underlying her facade. It put them off. Except for Danger.

“Yes. I would think that obvious.” Danger’s monotone voice cut like a cleaver in a wooden door. Lorna nervously laughed and tried to wrestle the attention away from arguably their most socially unaware member.

“Yes, it is the newest formation! It was one of the earlier groups I was associated with, and I wanted to bring it back to its former glory!” The frown on the reporter’s face from Danger’s comment disappeared as she took up her plastic smile again.

“I see you brought your brother in with you again, as well as some new old faces, old new faces, and a young-upstart.” Lorna stared blankly for a minute while trying to register all of the words on little coffee. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, the reporter turned her full attention onto Remy. Which became the apparent real reason she was there.

“Remy, the world wants to know what happened between you and Anna Marie. You quit a highly renown band to join a faceless has-been group for a never-been music company. Perhaps you could shed some light on what’s happened to you? How badly did it hurt to know Anna Marie was cheating with the father of two of your current bandmates?” Remy had not been prepared to answer the barrage of questions. He had not been prepared to talk about Anna, and he had especially not been ready to verbally address the situation with an insensitive bait and switch asshole trying to sell magazines. As his palms grew sweaty he felt the sudden urge to drink and fuck and forget. He was surprised when Pietro intervened on his behalf.

“Remy, like many of us, has put his past behind him to find a new sound with a highly experimental reincarnation of a still respected cult-classic band from the last decade whose songs I’m sure you could list at least 20 of, since many of them are still playing on the radio. I know I’m still receiving a livable wage from a cut of the royalties from iPod downloads alone. Working with a younger music company has permitted us the creative license frequently lost in big name companies to expand the band's musical potential.” Pietro leaned toward Cindy Parker and spoke almost conspiratorially, “Cindy, what was it like when your boss refused to leave his wife for you? Was it something you wanted to talk about in a business setting and possibly print to inform the world about? Are your private indiscretions with your boss at a magazine as big as Rolling Stone something I need to write a song about? Or maybe just write a post and have it reposted over 500,000 times by my social media followers?”

Pietro leaned back into his chair, returning to a more casual tone as he stared deadpanned at the dumbstruck lady across from him as though he hadn't just leveled a threat, “I can see it now, Rolling Stone executive and reporter lose careers over sexual misconduct. I hear his wife works for Cosmo. Maybe she’ll write a personal piece on what you put her marriage through. You’ll be the new Monica Lewinsky with the right publicity. But I digress, let’s talk about the band and how fantastic and talented we are. How we are going to change the music scene. You can’t wait to hear our first album because we’re such an eclectic group of talent that will take X-factor into a new generation.”

He stared into her soul, his eyes filled with malice, “Use your best judgement.” Then he stood and left the room. Remy hadn’t considered it before, and he was a bit perturbed by the blackmail aspect Pietro had somehow seamlessly woven into the situation, but Pietro was suddenly kind of fuckable.

Chapter Text

Lorna wasn’t sure how to act around Pietro after the interview. “Ok, let’s take it from the top. Let’s at least get one of these damn songs down before we’re forced to live up to that bitch of a reporter’s article on how fantastic we are.”

She was trying to not be resentful, because the lady had used them to get to Remy, and Pietro had simply used her back to get what they initially asked for. Some positive publicity. The woman had gone overboard, however, most likely intentionally, and now they were opening for The Avengers for several spring concerts. The Avengers her ex was lead singer for.

Snow was thrilled, but they were not gelling. They had no finished tracks put out and only had 6 months to figure it out, and she'd be damned if she would allow herself to be embarrassed in front of her ex right after gathering the courage to block him from her life. Remy and Pietro, to their credit, were both professionals. Pietro was obviously irritated with the lack of progress, but still on the side of being helpful rather than completely mocking. Remy was cool as a cucumber throughout all of it.

Warlock kept getting distracted by Danger who was still learning how to work in a group without being relegated to the mastering process at the end. Cypher kept mumbling his lines, barely carrying his voice over the mic. Lorna couldn't take it anymore.

“Enough!” She tossed her drumsticks down and marched out of the practice room. It was late. They had obviously hit a wall. It was time to step away.

The others filtered away to their rooms as well. All except for Remy and Pietro who were tuning their equipment in mutual silence. At least until Remy broke the unspoken pact by addressing what had been burning at the back of his mind for a week, “Why’d you do it?”

Pietro looked mildly startled Remy was talking to him. “Do what?”

“Save me in that interview?” Pietro refused to make eye contact and instead focused on his guitar.

“We need publicity, not a freak show.” Was the inevitable reply after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

“Freak sho’?” Remy raised his brow.

“Seeing how the mighty have fallen may be fun for the lookie-loos, but it's forgettable in the long run. We need the group to be in the limelight, not a former member of a popular band who has fallen on hard times and now is stuck consorting with a pack of misfits. Get it?” Pietro finally looked up and Remy's blank stare made the Transian Romani sigh. He didn't get it. “The band needs all the attention it can get now to survive. It needs to be at the forefront of everyone's mind. If your association with the X-men is the only publicity we're getting, it's going to boost the X-men. Not us. I didn't do it for you. I did it for the group... and maybe because I've always wanted to stick it to that bitch." A soft sigh escaped his lips as he was finally satisfied with his guitar and placed it gently in it's case.

“Well… eitha’ way. I jus’ wanted you ta know it was appreciated.” Pietro stopped moving for a bit and gave Remy a look he had never seen before. It was not malicious, for once. Nor was it bitter, snide, or cold. It was confusion. It was… cute.

“You're… welcome…?” The sentence flowed so unnaturally from Pietro's tongue that a bit of an accent crept into his words. He broke eye contact and started biting his lower lip as he concentrated on anything but Remy.

Yeah, he didn't know how he'd missed it before, but for all of Quicksilver's flaws, he was actually kind of cute. Kind of hot. Really hot.

“Oh mon dieu, no!” He roughly rubbed his hands over his eyes, dropping his precious bass.

“What?” Pietro jumped to his feet, startled and almost… concerned?

“... Nothin.” He absolutely could not think of Pietro, of all people, in this way. He stared down at his poor forgotten bass in embarrassment.

“Nothin’?!” The platinum blond man mocked incredulously in a faux Cajun accent that would have made Remy laugh if he wasn't so horrified by all of the lewd possibilities that had entered his mind. Eventually Pietro rolled his eyes, slung his guitar case over his shoulder and left.

Remy snuck a quick regretful glance at his teammate's tight jeans, then promptly opened his Grindr app and updated his profile to specify he was only looking for toned blondes. Specifically a runner build. Bonus points if they played guitar. It wasn't his proudest moment, but he figured this was the best way to get it out of his system. To fuck it out and get over it.

Chapter Text

Snow had decided to hire a therapist to help the band “get through” their creative differences and personal conflicts.

As resistant as they were to accept the assistance at first, it was actually a genius move and incredibly helpful as it led to their first breakthrough. Cypher found his voice again about a month in. They were now 5 months away from opening for The Avengers, and their lead singer was finally able to sing again. It was much different from his pop voice while with his last band.

Cypher was deep, guttural and raw. It was incredibly charged and brought the listener on a haunting emotional journey. At the end of his first successful session, they all stared at him in awe. Warlock walked up to him and hugged him. Remy high fived him. Danger gently applauded. Lorna jumped up with a “Fuck yeah!” and Pietro gave an approving nod.

They decided to celebrate with Chinese take out that night. That was when things got weird. Pietro was struggling to eat a particularly fat and poorly put together spring roll and ended up locking eyes with Remy who was staring. A tense standoff ensued until Pietro asked a muffled and confused “What?”

“Jus’ wonderin’ what else dat mouf can do, cher.” Remy had no idea what had possessed him to say those words out loud. Everyone stared at him in shock, except Danger who decided it was an earnest question.

“Well, the usual. Breathe, speak, taste. The tongue is actually-” Lorna, whose mouth was wide open, slapped her hand over Danger's mouth.

“What did you just say?” She could not believe Remy, who had been acting oddly aloof to her brother for almost a month, had finally spoken to Pietro to say that of all things. Pietro had completely stopped chewing, his cheeks and ears turning a lovely shade of hot pink with said phallic snack forgotten in his mouth.

The Cajun decided to play it off as a joke. But somehow Cypher saw through it because his eyes lit up in an “Ah hah!” way which in no way had anything to do with Doug's room being right next to Remy's and full front and center to the myriad of male blondes with runner builds Remy had been cycling through on the regular this month. But, Doug said nothing, he just averted his gaze and continued to quietly slurp his Chow Mein noodles down.

“Jus’ jokin’, cher. Already read de’ old article from our friend Cindy Parker. Cocaine an' random groupies, speedy?” Doug looked up at Remy with a silent cringe and disappointment. Pietro spit the food out of his mouth back onto his plate, stood up without a word and went to his room. Lorna threw her noodle container at the Cajun.

“What the fuck, Remy?!” He casually shrugged in response. Pietro came back into the living area dressed in a serval hoodie and jogger shorts. “Hey, Pietro!” He didn't acknowledge her as he quickly made his way out of the door.

The estranged siblings had moved from awkward silence to cordial water-cooler talk over the past month, and now the green haired woman felt like all of that progress had evaporated. She turned her white hot rage onto Remy.

Doug grabbed a puzzled Warlock and Danger and pulled them into his bedroom to finish their food before all holy hell was unleashed.

Much like Remy's lovemaking, Lorna's yelling could also permeate the walls.

Chapter Text

Three hours had passed since Pietro had taken off. Lorna was pacing around the living area biting her nails. Remy was watching Star Wars episode 4, pretending to not notice it was now 10 PM with no sign of Pietro or his whereabouts. Quicksilver was letting his calls go to voicemail, and leaving his texts on read without acknowledging them according to Lorna.

“I didn't want to have to do this…” He eventually heard her mumble as she fiddled with her phone. “There! He's at The Boneyard!”

The Boneyard was a local haunt the old X-Factor used to frequent. It was about a 20 minute walk away. “How you know where he at?”

“I have my ways.” Was her cold response. Yeah, Remy could see the resemblance between the two. Scary.

She started calling The Boneyard and inquiring if the guitarist was there. When she hung up, she looked contemplative. “Well?”

“I… I don't want to go to a bar I used to drink at.” Remy looked at her and started to feel like a heel. He had noticed how much effort Lorna had put into staying sober. She had stayed away from people from her past who treated her like dirt or drank a lot and used drugs. He watched her stay sober through all kinds of stress with this new band. And now her childish brother, who she was worried about, was in the last place she needed to be.

“Fine. Remy’ll go. It Remy mess anyway.” The gratefulness in her eyes solidified that he was doing the right thing.

Getting to the bar was easy. Security let him cut through the front of the line to some grumbling from those who didn't recognize him. Those who did were excited.

He scanned the bar upon entry, and immediately spotted what appeared to be a drunk Quicksilver whose body language indicated he was either about to be sick or he wanted the sandy blonde haired man talking to him to fuck off. As he approached, he recognized the man talking to Pietro.

Alex Summers. Lorna's ex-lover. Pietro’s ex-bandmate. A complete fuckwad of a yuppie jerk.

“I mean, you could at least tell me what you guys are working on.” Alex sounded pissed, and Remy decided to go ahead and sit at the bar to eavesdrop.

“We're making music.” Came the acidic reply.

“You know, I could talk to the other bandmates." Alex put his hand on the other man's shoulder in an almost intimate way, "You could come back to us.” The voice was coaxing like a fox trying to encourage a hen to come out of its coop.

“No.” Pietro tried to stand, but was wobbly. Alex put his arm around his shoulders and started to steer him towards the bathrooms. Remy raised an eyebrow at that and decided to leave the bar and follow.

“Oh, come on, man. Are you still holding that shit over my head? All I did was open the door, you didn't have to walk through it.” Pietro was desperately holding onto Alex for balance, looking miserable, as he was ushered through the crowd of bodies on the dance floor and into the bathroom. They were making their way toward the handicap stall as Alex continued, “Speaking of, I have nose candy. You give me a taste of what you're working on and I can give you a taste of the real shit.”

At that, Quicksilver almost violently pushed him off, despite his unsteadiness, “Lorna is doing better without you in her life… and so am I.”

If Alex wasn't angry before, he was now.

Quicksilver was backing up and appeared to be bracing himself as the other man rapidly approached. At least until he backed into Remy.

He turned and sheepishly met the bulkier man's gaze. Alex stopped his encroachment. “What all this about, boys?”

Before anyone could say anything, Pietro’s eyes gained brief clarity and widened. Then he lost everything he had been drinking on Remy's coat. “Mon dieu! Not the suede, cher!”

His prized lucky brown suede leather trench coat, that he had blown a chunk of his first advance on when he got signed into The Xavier Institute label, was now covered in vomit. He looked up to yell at Pietro, but he looked pitiful and tired and… like he was about to throw up again!

“Shit!” Thinking fast Remy spun his bandmate around and he vomited in the nearest toilet, shaking.

“I guess I'll leave you two to sort this out.” Alex was laughing as he walked away and Remy couldn't allow it. Therefore, he did the most disgusting thing he could think of.

He pulled off his now drenched trench coat, and threw the vomit covered side over the other man's beautifully coiffed hair and designer clothes. Alex screamed and yanked it off, but the damage was done. Remy laughed, then calmly said, “Later, asshole.” and shoved Alex out of the bathroom and into a throng of soon to be horrified dancers.

Remy rolled up his ruined coat, grabbed his platinum blonde mate, and hoisted him up, “Cher, we got ta get chu outta here.”

He had managed to sneak them both out of the club with little fuss or notice thanks to the scene Alex was making.

The thirty minute walk back was more of a fifty minute walk broken up by bouts of vomiting. They got back around midnight. Lorna was asleep on the couch. Remy didn't want to wake her and have her worry, so he opted to take Pietro to his room only to realize he didn't know the key code to get in and Pietro was in no state to provide it. “Ah, shit. Come on, cher.”

He half carried his… friend? What were they now? The Cajun wasn't sure. They eventually made it to his room where he did know the key code. He felt mildly embarrassed by the current state of disarray.

Clothes were flung haphazardly around the room, not all his, and his sheets looked like he had just had sex in them, which wasn't far from the truth. He tossed his ruined coat into the dry cleaning bin and made his way to his bathroom. After setting Pietro on his toilet, he turned on a warm shower and started helping him undress.

He was so enraptured in what he was doing that none of what he was doing was quite registering. He removed the guitarist's clothes and tossed them in his laundry bin. After gingerly helping him into the shower, he started to wash the vomit off. When he had finished, he wrapped the other man in a blanket sized warm fluffy yellow Serval towel.

“You ok in der, cher?” A slow nod under the bath sheet was his confirmation. The bassist left the bathroom to get a glass of water for Pietro from his bar, and it turned out Pietro had followed him out to his bed and was staring at it. “Here some water. How bout you hydrate?”

The proffered water was accepted and devoured. Then Quicksilver put down the glass, dropped the towel and crawled into Remy's bed.

“Uh… I guess Remy sleepin’ on de couch.” The cats blocked the couch and hissed at Remy in an uncharacteristic fashion when he tried to move them.

“Will you lay with me?” It was such a soft plea, he almost didn't hear it.

“You ain't in yo right state o mind, cher. You'll regret it in the mornin’ if ya wake up ta ol’ Remy.”

“Please don't leave.” His voice sounded so broken, Remy relented. The brunette laid in the bed next to the very naked object of his desire, putting every last ounce of willpower he had into not looking or touching. But, the guitarist was not playing by the same set of rules.

He crawled up to Remy and started laying his head on his chest, mumbling, “You're so warm.”

The bassist looked down at the other man, and was caught off guard by the wide-eyed affection in the exhausted crystalline blue eyes.

A very strong accent crept out of Pietro's mouth with the words, “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

“Wanda. Pietro. Today, we face the press.” The imposing figure dwarfed the children as they tightly clasped each other's tiny hand, preparing for the onslaught of flashing lights and loud questions. Both were dressed in funeral attire, black but well cut and designer brand. Wanda's dark tresses were pulled back in a red bow. Pietro’s pale, almost white, blonde hair was combed back.

Their mother was dead, and the media they had been sheltered from through most of her struggle with glioblastoma was ravenous for a story. Erik Magnus Lenscher was a cold man who had been largely absent during the final months, leaving them with nannies and maids while their mother ailed in a private room, slowly going mad.

Pietro and Wanda had tried to see her, but were prevented from doing so by their many watchers. At least until the week before she passed. Pietro had managed to outwit and outrun their nanny. He regretted it, for what he saw was no longer his mother. It both terrified him and made him feel horrible for allowing such thoughts. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memories and focus.

Pietro looked towards his big sister for assurance. Being twins, she was only a few minutes older than him, but her mind had always felt years ahead. She was the mature, empathetic, and calm one. Pietro was the impulsive and reactive one. However, she didn't look at him. She only looked ahead.

It made him feel alone.

The large oak doors that would lead them out of the church and into the waiting media frenzy were before them. He would not cry. He would not disappoint his father and sister. He could do this.

A bright blinding light filtered through as the doors slowly opened, and Pietro woke up with the mother of all hangovers.

—

He knew he shouldn't have overindulged in alcohol to avoid slipping back into cocaine, but Remy had managed to get under his skin in the last month in a way no one had before. The dick.

He stretched out, feeling his back let out a small crack, and realized he was naked. Abnormal for him because he would usually get cold easily, but he didn't feel cold. Then he realized he was laying on something warm.

No.

Someone.

He bolted up from the bed to the sight of a shirtless Remy and immediately started panicking. The other man had slept through the jostling, and he looked like an absolute god.

Pietro wasn't blind. He knew Remy was physically attractive, but they had both been keeping their distance since the awkward conversation they had about a month ago. The one where Remy decided to fuck up the chill indifference they had for each other by having the audacity to thank him for something that had nothing to do with him.

It was Pietro’s own petty revenge that had in no way been spurred on by that nasty wench targeting Remy. Maybe Remy looking a little broken had triggered the timing and turned the information he was planning to drop on social media regarding Cindy's personal indiscretions into more of a blackmail for her to back off. What had he been thinking even getting mixed up in that?

Then the asshole had gone ahead and embarrassed him for the fucking fun of it by flirting with him then pulling the rug out with a comment about that fucking Cindy Parker column where she had all but called Pietro a cocaine fueled whore. He still didn't know what had led to the nasty article in the first place.

How in the hell was he now naked in that arrogant shit’s room? What had they done together? Remy had his pants on, but it was hard to discern what had happened from the messy bed.

There was no time for philosophizing. He couldn't find his clothes, so he stole one of Remy's shirts and a pair of boxers and ran.

After gently closing the door behind him, he turned around to face a sheepish looking Doug who was munching on cereal.

He wanted to die.

Doug looked surprised, but said nothing and walked into his room, closing the door behind him. Pietro kept his scream inside and booked it to his room before he ran into anyone else.

When he got into his room, he promptly changed into some running gear. Damn the hangover, he needed a run.

During the first thirty minutes he recalled going to The Boneyard, drinking heavily and then Alex approaching him. It made his skin crawl. The bastard had introduced both Wanda and him to hard drugs. Not your baba's cannabis.

Wanda preferred psychedelics and had easily made friends who liked to get high with her. Pietro liked cocaine and always struggled with making friends. Alex held his ability to get drugs, and prevent alternative sources from selling to him, to get him to do all kinds of sketchy or unsavory activities. Usually activities that fucked others in the industry over. A few times he had tried to coerce sexual favors out of Pietro, but Pietro was dense when it came to that sort of thing. Crystal had to practically slap him over the head with her interest during a joint tour with The Inhumans. He had lost his virginity to her. This led to the birth of Luna. While he and Crystal didn't work out, his daughter was amazing. He had no regrets.

When Pietro realized what Alex wanted, he drew the line and went on his first attempt at sobriety. Mostly involuntarily because Alex wouldn't give him cocaine at that time without sex. Quitting cold turkey in the middle of concert season hurt their performance. Alex finally relented when other bandmates started asking what was going on and Tony Stark, the owner of their label, Stark Industries, started getting involved.

He didn't force the issue after that. He did constantly bring it up though. And he was dating Lorna off and on throughout all of it.

Lorna didn't know, and she didn't need to know. He was secretly thrilled when she called things off with Alex. The man was a grade A monster.

An hour in, the run left a lot to be desired, so he returned to the warehouse only to see Doug sitting on the couch in the living room. They both made eye contact and said nothing. Pietro walked into the kitchen and started chugging water to stave off what remained of his headache.

He returned to the living room with a full glass in his hand to find Doug looking at him as though he wanted to say something, so Pietro abruptly made his way to his room to prevent whatever the hell Doug wanted to discuss. He made to turn the corner to the hallway that housed their rooms when he slammed into the last human he wanted to see.

Remy stood there in a fluffy serval bathrobe, still shirtless (because of course), partially drenched by Pietro’s now half empty glass of water. A blush creeped up Quicksilver's neck as he took in Remy's chest hair and rugged good looks.

They both were frozen until Pietro regained his senses first and finally dove around Remy, only to be caught by the wrist and pinned against the hall wall.

“Are we gonna talk abou’-” The Cajun began calmly.

“No.” He didn't want to discuss anything. He wanted to pretend nothing had happened. A warmth was creeping through his body. He wanted to go on another run, and he wanted Remy's hands off of his body. “Nothing happened.”

“In a way, yes. Nuthin’. But also somethin’ kinda did, though Remy can't tell if you do or do not remembuh’ the particuluh’s.” Remy’s voice was deep, gentle and soothing, like he was approaching a wounded animal or a startled horse. So soothing that Pietro didn't realize he had been effectively boxed in by Remy's very impressive arms until it was too late, “Also, I need ta know what yo relationship wit’ Alex-”

“What about Alex?” Lorna was yawning as she made her way down the hall. Then she stopped as she took in the state of the two men. “What are you two doing?”

Remy looked at Pietro as though he were seeing him for the first time. Then he turned back to Lorna, “Nuthin’.”

She stared at him in disbelief until she seemed to remember she was mad at her brother. Then all other thoughts dissipated. “You selfish bastard! My back hurts from falling asleep on the couch waiting for you! I woke up at three and had to check your tracker to see where you were! Thankfully you were showing as here by then, but of all the-”

“My tracker?” Her brother interrupted, still being held by Remy. Lorna's face blanched. Silence followed as they all quietly took in the situation. Pietro ducked under Remy's arm while the other man bit his bottom lip in annoyance. “Maybe we can all pretend none of us saw or heard anything in the last 12 hours and we can move past this.”

Pietro took his sad glass of water and continued towards his room. That was when Lorna surprised him by blurting out, “Why do you hate me?!”

Chapter Text

He stared at her in shock, then narrowed his eyes in supreme annoyance, “I've never hated you.”

“That's a lie!” Her face was turning red and her eyes were getting glossy.

“If I hated you, I wouldn't be here right now.” It was matter of fact, and his comforting skills were not top notch.

“Ah, I knew you liked Remy.” The brunette man arrogantly interjected to add some levity to the situation.

“I-what?” It had the desired effect of throwing Pietro completely off.

“If you didn't like Remy, you wouldn't still be here. Your words.” The smug look and out of context phrasing made the silver-haired man's blood boil.

“I-This-This has nothing to do with you." He turned away from the smug bastard and back to his sister, "Lorna, I don't hate you.”

“You and Wanda were always so close. There was never any room for me. And now Wanda isn't even here and you're still barely a co-worker to me. You don't talk to me. You just leave to go on runs and treat me like an acquaintance.” Pietro took a deep breath and closed his eyes to collect himself. When he opened them, he stared into her green ones.

“I joined to have a better relationship with you.” Lorna now looked surprised. “I'm just-” He started to wave his hands around, sloshing more water.

No one helped him out in his struggle to find words. Remy looked amused, and had taken to crossing his arms and leaning against the wall he had earlier pinned him against. Lorna had also crossed her arms, but looked angry. Doug had also decided to join them at some point from the living room.

Fucking Doug.

“Look. I'm a fuck up, ok? I don't know how to relate to you. You're three years younger than me and in a different stage of life.” Lorna looked unimpressed.

“We're both in our 20s.” Her matter of fact tone was clipped. His headache was getting worse.

“I'm a fucked up negligent dad with a cocaine addiction-” He realized his mistake after the words had left his mouth, and Lorna's eyes widened.

He took another deep breath as he turned to leave but she had managed to catch up to him and grab his shirt, effectively holding him in place.

The determined expression on her face reminded him of Luna. “If you actually want to have a better relationship with me, and that wasn't all a load of horseshit, start here. How much of Cindy Parker's article was true?”

He sighed, “Just the cocaine addiction. The rest was made up. I don't sleep around.” He gave a quick glare to Remy. “I don't even know who her source was, but we settled it outside of court.”

“You mean, all of this time you have been watching me stumble around in an effort to stay sober while you've been doing lines of coke in your bathroom?” The accusation was not appreciated.

“No," His response was careful, "I have not. I've been sober since I left The Avengers.” His voice was controlled. He had left The Avengers around the time he found Lorna at her lowest point. Alex had called him for help because she was drunkenly tearing up a bar in a rage. He didn't know the details, but he showed up regardless. They never had been close as siblings, but he had wanted to help.

When he got there, she was a broken sobbing mess on the floor, surrounded by turned over chairs and glass. Alex had already left. Most of the building was vacant, with the exception of a few people with their phones out shamelessly recording her anguish. He managed to get them all to leave with a look.

He wanted to be there for her. He was struggling with his cocaine addiction, and saw himself in her at that moment. He understood the torment.

He tried to talk sense into her, and get her to leave with him. Instead she said some cruel but true things that crushed him. Then she tried to stab him with a broken bottle. The cops had arrived by then and dragged her out. Pietro had felt helpless.

His little sister had no idea the amount of strings he had to pull to get her out of jail and only on probation, and he would never tell her.

The whole situation had caused him to take a good hard look at himself, the path he was on and how the ones he loved were affected by his actions. He didn't like what he saw, and vowed to be a better father and big brother. Getting off of cocaine was step one.

It had been so hard. He had been so miserable. The guitarist had checked into a nondescript rehab facility which helped him navigate and exit from his contract with The Avengers due to a clause about personal health. He didn't tell The Avengers it was so he could get clean from cocaine.

Alex, who also doubled as his dealer, tried to tempt him back the way he had always tempted him to do things. Cocaine. The cocaine he had introduced him to when he was 19. And he did anything Havoc had wanted him to do with no questions asked, for a time, all in a quest for that one high that would remind him of the first time he got high.

He had never found it again. Just a string of bad decision making. He had knocked up Crystal. They had both been high, but when she found out she was pregnant, she got sober. Pietro found out he had a daughter later after she had already left him. He tried to be a good dad, but he had to admit he was not very good at it. He showed up for her as much as he was allowed to and eagerly attended any events he was allowed to join, but Crystal did not want him there.

He understood why, of course. He was an active addict, and she, being a former addict, could see straight through him and tell he was still using. She was just being a good mother, and he couldn't fault her for that.

Quicksilver was on shaky ground, but managing, when he heard about Lorna trying to bring The X-Factor back.

“And you never thought this was something we had in common that maybe we could have leaned on each other for support through?” She looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the room.

“You were going through enough. I didn't want to make it about me.” Her gaze softened as she stared at her brother. The admission felt genuine. It added a new layer to his cold and calculating nature. It made the coldness seem more like hesitation, the calculation more like insecurity.

It wasn't that he wanted to withhold from a relationship with her. He just didn't see room for himself in her life, much like how she didn't see room for herself in her older siblings' lives. But here her big brother was. He was trying to be here for her while he was suffering because he thought she needed support.

“You're such an idiot.” Was all she managed to get out before she started sobbing which had the effect of making her brother stare at her in wide-eyed discomfort.

Now she was completely in his space hugging him and snot sobbing into his hoodie while he looked around desperately for help.

Doug made a motion with his arms, and mouthed the words ‘hug her.’ So, he awkwardly did. This made her sob harder. He stopped moving and just stood there. After the crying had died down, Remy spoke up.

“So, Alex jus’ yo’ dealer or-” Lorna's head shot up like a rocket.

“Alex was your dealer?” Pietro wasn't sure where this was going, but he was certain it wasn't going to be pretty.

“Not anymore. It's fine.” Her vibrant green eyes glimmered with a dark rage that screamed it was not, in fact, fine. She renewed her grip on his shirt, and hauled him to her room, slamming the door behind her. She shoved him to sit on her bed while her usually shorter form towered over him, hands on her hips. This was very much Luna behavior, he mused to himself.

“When did you start using?” Pietro wasn't sure how to respond to her as her question seemed loaded. “I remember watching you at Bayville Boogie Fest last year. You had a bad set…” He forgot Lorna was at that concert. He still cringed in embarrassment whenever he thought back on the moment.

“No, I wasn't using then. That was the problem. My best performances were on cocaine.” He was starting to feel discomfort with the unwanted microscope. He leaned forward to tie his shoe. The itch to go on another run was creeping through his body.

“Do you run to stay clean?” Everything about her brother's eccentric behavior was starting to make sense.

“I guess.” He finished tying his shoe and leaned back on her bed. Every response he gave her was moving back to being cold and controlled.

“Was he trying to stop selling and go straight during the concert?” He was distracted from Lorna's question by his phone buzzing.

“Who?” He began reading a message that had his undivided attention.

“Alex,” Lorna was getting annoyed by Pietro's lack of awareness of the conversation, “Is that why he didn't give you anything then?”

“No, I just wouldn't fuck him.” He mumbled as he read his phone with intensity and started texting someone.

“He wanted sex with you in exchange for drugs.” Her voice was dangerously low and screamed Erik Lenscher.

“Yea-” He stopped talking and texting, and looked up at Lorna with apprehension.

“We were together at that time.” Her voice was clipped.

“You were.” Both siblings were unmoving.

“How many times did he cheat on me with you?” Pietro started to panic. He wasn't sure how they had gotten on to this topic, but it wasn't something he felt comfortable discussing. And for all of his talk of getting closer to Lorna and being a better big brother, he felt he had probably backslid a lot during the last five minutes.

“I never did it.” He started rapidly defending himself, “That's why he didn't give me anything during that concert and my performance blew up. The only reason he started selling to me again was because Stark was poking around. I promise I never touched him.”

“So, my then-boyfriend got my brother hooked on cocaine which he then tried to withhold for sexual favors. All while he was having sex with me.” She reminded Pietro of their father. The way she was revisiting facts, building up to something. This was usually a precursor to some horrifically devastating revelation or action, of which Pietro was frequently the recipient.

“I swear, Lorna, I never laid a hand on him.” He needed her to know he would never betray her in that way before he had lost her forever.

“Did he lay a hand on you?” Pietro didn't seem to be following. There had been a couple of instances where he had been alone with Alex and too high. Alex had definitely tried to take advantage in those moments, but he had effectively gotten out of those situations before things had escalated. Mostly just groping or attempts to initiate kissing, which would always bring a bit of sobriety back for Pietro to get up and get out.

“I mean, he tried, but like I said, I would never-” He was trying to placate her now.

“Tried how?” She would not be deterred.

“I-I don't know. Um…,” He was losing her fast. He started looking around the room, trying to think of how to respond, “He would just try to touch me when I was out of it, but it always brought me back before anything happened, so I would leave. Then I stopped getting high around him. Like I said, we never-”

She moved abruptly and Pietro went from somewhat serious and composed to clocking all exits in the room. She walked to her bedroom door, grabbing her keys and coat. “If you're that mad, I can go instead. I mean, if you want me to leave the band, I understand-”

She stopped, and just looked at him, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

He didn't know what to say. So, he tried to navigate where he thought her concerns may be and continued his attempts to placate her. “I mean, I would help you find a new guitarist, of course.”

“Pietro. Do you think I'm mad at you?” The incredulity in her eyes made him second guess himself.

“Are… are you not?” This seemed to make her more angry.

“Did Wanda know?” They had been close, but there was a divide there that was growing for a while. She knew Alex was giving him drugs, but she was busy with her own life and addiction.

“I don't know. I didn't want to worry her. She was busy.” It was the truth. She was also mad at him for how he had behaved while under the influence, which he couldn't blame her for. He still needed to find a way to make amends.

“Did dad know?” Erik seemed to always know everything, but if he had known about this, he had never brought it up.

“He doesn't talk to me outside of business.” Also the truth. Lorna’s nostrils flared and she left.

Chapter Text

Remy entered the living room sometime later, fully clothed this time, to find Pietro pacing much in the way Lorna had the night before, “Where Lorna go?”

The guitarist jumped and spun around to glare at the bassist with such intense animosity, Remy regretted saying anything.

“We gonna talk now?” The Cajun felt they needed to at least clear the air on the previous evening.

“How did you even know about Alex?” The amount of venom in the question was ignored, but the question itself caught Remy off guard.

“Hol’ up. What do you remember abou’ las’ night?” Pietro's face went ashen white and he said nothing. “How you think you ended up in Remy bed?”

Pietro’s face was now bright red.

“You don’ remembuh shit do you, cher?” The question should not have been as triggering as it was for Pietro.

“I remember everything. I remember Alex and the bar-” He was trying to not laugh at the tightly wound, private and bitchy guitarist being in panic mode.

“Then how you end up in Remy bed?” He asked again. The blonde man’s lovely blue eyes were positively murderous. “Well, I didn' take nuthin' tha’ wasn' given, cher.”

“You disgusting, philandering, backwoods-” Quicksilver started in with rapid fire speed.

“That a way different tune to the sweet ‘Thank you’ you gave ol’ Remy before passin’ out naked in his bed las’ night.” The frustrated sound that escaped Pietro’s throat was music to the Cajun's ears. “By the way, what kinda accent-”

Pietro’s phone started ringing. He immediately answered, “Hello?! Lorna?! … Alex…? How did you get my num-she what…?”

Angry screaming could be heard from the other caller while Pietro quietly listened.

“Alex, I didn't-,” more angry screaming, “I don't think-” more screaming. Pietro started worrying his lower lip, his eyes growing wider. Finally, Remy got fed up and snatched the phone. Alex was raving on the other end.

“And I'll tell Cindy Parker you are the biggest fucking coke whore in the business, and your bitch of a little sister is a whore too! And if you think you're opening for us-” Remy decided to interject.

“Hello, der, Alex. Nice to hear from you again.” The other end went quiet. “You threatenin’ a breach o’ contract? Without Tony?”

More silence.

“No worries, Remy’ll get Tony an’ Snow on de line. We'll get dis squared away.” Finally, Alex spoke.

“We'll see you in the spring.” And he hung up. Remy handed the phone back to Pietro who took the phone while dissecting the other man with his eyes.

“Why did you do that?” The guitarist's suspicious gaze pierced into Remy.

“We need ta focus on outperformin’ The Avengers. We don' need no freak sho.” Pietro smirked and looked away. Remy realized it was to hide a genuine smile that was forming.

Oh yeah, Remy was falling fast. This was probably going to be messy, but after his relationship with Anna, he really didn't care if things got messy.

“What exactly did Lorna do?” Pietro looked at him, puzzled.

“I don't actually know. I couldn't understand half of what he was saying.” Pietro shrugged.

“So, whatchu and Lorna talk about anyway?” Pietro went cold again. He could almost see all of the light in his eyes shut off.

“I think I fucked up.” The guitarist did not follow his usual modus operandi of physically leaving the difficult conversation. Instead he slumped down on the couch. Remy sat next to him and slid his arm around the other man's shoulders. Pietro flinched but didn't leave.

“Not sure if you noticed, but everyone here is fucked up.” The comment had the sought after effect of making the blonde crack a smile.

He was getting good at this.

After a few seconds of silence, Pietro finally asked, “What was Alex doing with me? Were we… together?”

That solidified that Pietro definitely blacked out at some point, “Yeah, at the bar he was tryin’ ta get you to tell him about the-”

“No, I remember that. I mean, were we… together… later.” There was hesitation and a hint of shame.

“No, you weren't... Are you two together?” It was futile to resist the guitarist’s pull on him. He knew what he wanted, damn the consequences, but he also liked to enter situations prepared.

“No. Never.” Remy exhaled in relief. Pietro watched him, scanning his face. “Why are you so obsessed with knowing the details of my relationship with Alex?”

“Jus’ tryin’ to determine whether or not he's a threat.” The brunette let his arm hang limp over Pietro's shoulders.

“A threat to what?” The door opened, interrupting the line of questioning, revealing a very pleased Lorna sipping a coffee. Pietro stood up in anticipation.

“I flushed all of it,” she cackled.

Chapter Text

“Lorna…” Pietro was worried.

“Then I logged onto his laptop and started looking through things.” Very worried, “He's the one who reached out to Cindy Parker when you left the Avengers, by the way. Really, it's his fault for being too stupid to change his locks or ask for the key back, and for having the password ‘password’. Christ, I should have left him years ago.”

Her mood was upbeat as she made her way to the kitchen sipping on her latte with a tray of coffees in her other hand, “Lorna, you know he will retaliate. You're on probation still. What could have possessed you?”

“Are you kidding? What's he going to do? Call the cops to tell them someone flushed his illegal drugs down the toilet?” She started placing all of the coffees on the kitchen counter in an imperfect line.

“You were trespassing.” He came up behind her absent-mindedly straightening all of the coffees into a clean line. She flipped her green hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.

“M’yeah. With the key he gave me. If he wants to call anyone on me, I'll call him out on his drug peddling.” The cardboard coffee tray was pushed unceremoniously into the recycling bin.

“He may use other ways to make things difficult.” Pietro pulled the cardboard tray back out to break it down and place it back in.

“Look. He fucked with my big brother. Rather, he tried to fuck my big brother, aka he tried to drug and rape my brother. Call it the very light consequences of his own actions.” Remy was startled to attention by the comment.

“Rape?” He looked at Pietro in alarm.

“No, not rape.” The guitarist waved the bassist’s concern off and then grabbing the coffee with his name on it to give his hands something to do.

“Yes. Yes, rape. He tried to rape you, Pietro. You rejected his advances, so he tried to coerce you with drugs. When that didn't work, he tried to prey on you while you were high. You could not consent. That is attempted rape, and don't you dare try to downplay it.” She took a swig of her coffee and regarded her increasingly uncomfortable looking brother, “Pietro. It wasn't your fault. I mean, you do own your addiction, but you weren't responsible for how Alex treated you.”

“I know.” Was the dismissive response while he took a sip of his coffee.

“No, I don't think you do. I'm not mad at you, Pietro. I'm mad at Alex.” It looked like the weight of the world was lifted off of his shoulders. Remy looked less relieved and more agitated. Lorna noted with curiosity that the two men appeared to have exchanged demeanors. “You ok there, Remy?”

“Yeah.” Was the curt reply while he grabbed his own coffee and left the room without a word. Pietro watched him leave. His sister watched her brother with more than idle curiosity.

“What's going on with you two?”

“Nothing… he just got me out of a bad situation last night… and I think we might have had drunken sex.” He dropped his head on the counter in the kitchen while Lorna choked on her coffee.

“Are you serious?!” She slammed her coffee on the counter and started making her way towards where Remy departed only to be intercepted by Pietro. “I sent him out there to apologize and bring you back! Not fuck you!”

“It's fine.” Lorna looked at him incredulously.

“Is it?” He found his resolve.

“I don't remember what happened, probably nothing,” he lied, “but it's fine.”

“You didn't remember. So you weren't sober. But you think you both may have had sex and it's fine?” Lorna stared through him.

“Lorna. I'm capable of taking care of myself.” She snorted. “Look. I trust Remy- Hey, stop laughing!”

But she didn't until her phone rang and it was Snow. “Good news! Cindy Parker wants another interview! Looks like we're picking up steam!”

—

It was a very obvious trap that took place the next day. Instead of an interview for a magazine article, it turned out it was a well publicized live stream on her social media platform. Any mistakes would have a large audience, and with the way she kept shooting a hungry glance at Pietro it became pretty obvious who her target was.

Pleasantries were exchanged. Everyone was on their best behavior while she threw a couple of softball questions at Doug and Warlock. She avoided Danger who managed to not blink while staring at her. Remy turned on the charm. A few times someone had a good laugh. Then her razor sharp focus zeroed in on Pietro.

“Pietro, I have it on good authority you suffer from a cocaine addiction.” This old dog and pony show. He knew Alex was the reason for this interview and he knew Cindy was trying to catch him in a lie, his favorite pastime. The fact that she was willing to reopen a topic they had previously gone to court over, and ultimately settled, made it obvious to him she had proof to back up her claim. She was trying to set a trap and was hoping he would spring it with denial.

So, he did what he did best. He outmaneuvered her.

“I did.” Cindy didn't seem to fully register the admission.

“I hear-” It looked like her brain had stalled. The rest of the X-Factor stared at him in surprise, “Uh, you do?” Her head swiveled from her extensive notes to stare at him.

“Did. Past tense. I went to rehab when I left The Avengers. I've been clean since.” The silence was deafening.

“Uh. Oh. When we went to court-,” She started dumbfounded.

“You were half wrong. I wasn't sleeping around. I've only ever been with Crystal, my first love. I was fighting my addiction when you released your article. It was a very dark time. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of while I was using. I hurt a lot of people. Some of them were people I love deeply.” He looked at the camera, “I am sorry. I know I don't deserve forgiveness, but I am sorry for my behavior and actions and I'm struggling to find ways to make amends.”

Cindy was completely gobsmacked. Her carefully articulated notes fell out of her hand. “I know we've had our differences in the past, Cindy. I hope we can move past it. Any other questions?”

The reporter stammered.

“This was nice. Thank you for having us on your live show.” He stood up and held out his hand, a peace offering, which she slowly shook, and then he left the stage. The rest of the group said their goodbyes and left.

—

No one spoke until they made it back to Serval. “I can't fucking believe you just did that!” Lorna was ecstatic and practically dancing after she exited the van, “You're such an asshole! I'm so proud of you! Did you see the look on her face?”

“I was serious. I am trying to stay sober and make amends.” He was trying to struggle past the seats and squeeze out of the back of the van when Remy reached in and took his hand to steady him. He blushed and almost stuttered until he heard the loveliest sound in his life.

“Daddy!”

Chapter Text

Pietro burst past Remy to scoop up his daughter, throw her in the air, and catch her as her long blonde hair bounced on the tiny unicorn backpack she was wearing.

“Luna Petunia!” Lorna was startled by the abrupt personality change. It was as though every ounce of brooding, conniving, and self-hating guitarist was replaced with a doting Hallmark father. Pietro swung his daughter around, both of them with pure joy on their faces.

They stopped to nuzzle noses until Pietro halted to look around, “Honey, where is your mother?”

“At home!” Came the energetic reply.

“Then who dropped you off?” He sounded irritated that whoever her caregiver was was nowhere in sight and had left his daughter alone in what was effectively a parking lot connected to a warehouse.

“I took the bus!” She sounded so proud.

“The city bus?” His head snapped back to her.

“Is there another bus?” It was said in earnest, but the tone in her voice gave the impression she thought her father was asking a stupid question. Remy started laughing. Pietro briefly glared at him.

“Did someone escort you?” He was trying to not sound concerned but Luna picked up on it.

“No, I did it all by myself! Please don't worry Daddy. I made it!” Her enthusiasm was contagious, but so was Pietro's anxiety. The rest of the band looked back and forth between the duo.

“Does your mother know you're here?” The little girl blanched.

“You should definitely call her.” The guitarist propped the girl up on his hip as he immediately pulled out his cell phone and contacted Chrystal who sounded extremely upset if the yelling from the other end of the phone was any indication. After Pietro hung up, he gave his daughter a weary glance.

“Luna, we don't lock people in rooms. We don't take money out of purses. We don't leave home without one of our guardians, especially not to take the city bus. What if you had gotten lost?”

“I'm not stupid, daddy.” She deadpanned.

“I know you're not stupid, honey, but why didn't you ask your mom to just let you visit?” He pleaded.

“I watched your live stream and how you were sorry on Mommy's phone while she was in the bathroom. You apologized and said you were changing so I wanted to see you.” She had pure determination written all over her face. “And I didn't want Mommy to say no…”

Her father inhaled deeply, looking at the sky briefly before carrying her inside, “Your mother is coming to discuss this situation with me. Promise me you will not run off on your own again.”

She gave her father a sweet smile, “If I can stay the weekend, I promise.”

—

Luna was ruthless. Remy was impressed with her shrewd negotiation skills. Chrystal and Pietro clearly had their hands full.

Both were sitting on the couch in the living room with their tiny tyrant standing in front of them with her arms crossed. Chrystal was slouched forward with her face in her hands. Pietro was slumped back, looking exhausted.

Remy had popped some popcorn and was watching in earnest along with the rest of the X-Factor group.

“The whole weekend and regular visitation thereafter.” She moved her hands to her hips and scrunched her baby face, taking on a look that let them know she meant business.

Remy looked at Lorna and mouthed, “‘Thereafter’? What the fuck?”

He had never met a child who spoke like this before.

Pietro stretched and groaned something in a foreign language, which the Cajun found to be hot as hell. His daughter responded in what sounded like the same language which made the guitarist freeze and look at her sheepishly.

“Auntie Wanda has been teaching me, Daddy. You shouldn't say that word.” Chrystal and Pietro exchanged worn out expressions. The guitarist also looked slightly wounded at the mention of Wanda.

“Fine.” They both said in unison.

Luna gave a triumphant grin as she pulled her backpack off, “Good. Daddy, I could only fit clothing in my backpack so you will need to take me to get toys to keep here.”

“And why would I do that, you tiny terrorist?” He gave her a tired smile.

“Because I will play with something, and either you give me something appropriate, or I will make my own toys.” The threatening look she gave Pietro as she picked up a glass sculpture off of the coffee table made her decidedly less cute, and significantly more terrifying.

“Done.” He inhaled sharply, “Just put the knick knack down.” She complied with a giggle.

Chrystal stood up and sighed. “Pietro, congratulations on your sobriety. You look good.” She gave him a soft smile. He returned it and stood. She simultaneously went in for a hug as he awkwardly put his hand out for a handshake. They both looked at each other in a strained manner. A lot of unsaid words were conveyed in that tense moment before Chrystal shook his hand, “I'll see you Monday morning.”

Remy could tell when two people liked each other, and he didn't like this. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he followed the ocular energy back to the tiny blonde girl with piercing blue eyes who was dissecting him.

She made a confused face before turning back to her mother to give her a hug and promising to behave.

—

Watching Pietro as a father over the past weekend had awoken something in Remy. He could hardly believe he was looking at the same arrogant asshole from the first time in Snow's office. The way he loved Luna was so dear and heartfelt. He was a completely devoted father.

However, he couldn't wait for Luna to leave. Something about the way she regarded Remy told him she knew something and he didn't know what or how to react to it. She was definitely not a normal child.

Sunday night, everything came to a head. Danger and Warlock decided to attempt a date. Doug left to get coffee with a girl he had connected with on Tinder. Lorna was on the couch surfing her phone.

Pietro was going to take Luna with him to get pizza, but she requested to stay at the warehouse with “Auntie Lo.”

Pietro nodded and left. Remy was also on the couch watching TV and minding his business when Luna spoke, “Auntie Lo, may I have a cup of herbal tea with honey?”

It was an odd request, but Lorna ruffled her niece's hair and made her way to the kitchen, “Sure thing, Lu!”

The moment her aunt stepped into the kitchen, the gloves were off. Luna sat next to Remy and blatantly stared at him. After an awkward silence, Remy finally spoke up, “Need somethin’?”

“What are your intentions with my daddy?” He thought he had misheard.

“What?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You look at him the way Mommy sometimes looks at him.” He wasn't sure what to say to that.

“Yo daddy is… a friend.” He tried to give her a charming smile, but she was unimpressed.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Remy almost choked on his own saliva. The audacity.

“Wha-No!” He paused the movie he had been watching.

“But you want him to be.” Remy didn't want to lie, but he also wasn't sure what to say.

“He-uh. He workin’ on hisself. Remy don’ think he interested in boyfriends n girlfriends right now.”

“So, you want to be boyfriends but you don't think he wants a boyfriend?” She had her father's eyes. It was unnerving how they dissected and dug further into anything he told her.

“Remy don’ know what Remy want, but Remy know he don' wanna have dis chat wit a tyke.” The line in the sand had been drawn.

“Don't patronize me.” Her voice was level and mildly threatening.

“‘Patronize’?” He still couldn't believe a child talked like this. 4 going on 40.

“You heard me. Be sweet to my daddy. Please don't hurt his heart.” Her demeanor changed from aggressive to genuine concern, big blue eyes now searching his eyes for some kind of sign he was a good person. It was sweet. Whatever tension had been building over the weekend had been released with that one vulnerable plea.

“I promise.” He held out his pinky and she took it with hers. One shake later and the bargain was struck.

“Good. Take this crayon and this paper.” She gave him a pink crayon and flipped the picture of a pony she had drawn earlier over.

“... ok… why?” He accepted the offered items in confusion.

“To take notes. His favorite colors are blue, silver and white.” Gambit stared at her blankly. She motioned for him to write and looked disappointed with his apparent dimness. He started writing.

“His favorite animal is the cheetah. His favorite bird is the peregrine falcon.” The brunette man wasn't sure when this information would come in handy, if ever, “His favorite food is supreme pizza. He used to be a runner and a gymnast but granddaddy wouldn't allow him to do it professionally, so he went into music like granddaddy wanted.”

Gambit's inner-pervert lit up. That was interesting intel he had never heard before in any circle, “Oh really? A gymnast?”

“Yes, Auntie Wanda told me. They were sent to live with family in Transia after grandmother died. Granddaddy was with Auntie Lorna’s mom. I think Daddy's so good at yoga because of gymnastics.” Gambit didn't know Pietro did yoga either. Luna continued, “He likes fast cars, but mom says he's a terrible driver. He speaks 18 languages-”

“Woah! What languages?”

“English, Transian, Transian Romani, Russian, Ukrainian, Lithuanian, Polish, Hebrew, Arabic, German, French, Spanish, Italian, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese-”

Lorna re-entered the room with tea, “Oh, I see you two are getting along! What are you doing?”

Luna smiled sweetly, “Uncle Remy is helping me draw my pony. You can keep Mr. Pony, Uncle Remy.”

Remy briefly thought this child was going to make a terrifying adult one day.

—

Pietro had returned with the pizza and was in fact demolishing a supreme. It would seem Luna had been telling Remy the truth, and the Cajun took that to mean she had accepted him pursuing her father in her own weird way. He was now watching said father lay on the couch with Luna asleep on his chest. Her tiny hands closed into loose fists by her face. Her light blonde hair tumbled about her shoulders with loose tresses framing her small face.

Pietro managed to stand up with her and get Luna to his room where he put her to rest in his bed. Then he walked back into the living room where Gambit was sitting on the couch playing a card game with Lorna.

The guitarist started picking up a collection of toy ponies and their accompanying harnesses. Remy didn't realize he was staring until Lorna spoke up.

“Stop it.” Her eyes didn't leave her hand.

“What?” His eyes unintentionally slid back over to Pietro bending over to pick up snack cups and a metal water bottle with rainbow colored musical notes across it.

“You’re staring. Stop.” He tore his eyes away from his oblivious bandmate.

“He pretty.” He shrugged. Lorna slammed her hand down on the coffee table and glared at the Cajun. Startling the guitarist and the bassist briefly before Pietro dismissed it as being part of the game, returning back to his clean up routine.

“Stop it.” She was definitely not playing with Remy.

“What? It a compliment.” He returned casually.

“For normal people. You're a horn dog. If you value your dick, keep it in your pants. This is your only warning. It's bad enough you screwed him while he was drunk.” She hissed the last part out while Pietro was trying to tidy up the kitchen. Cheerios had been dumped everywhere by accident when Luna had attempted to make breakfast for herself and her dad that morning.

“Remy do no such thing!” He said aghast.

“Don't you dare lie to me!” Remy’s jaw dropped.

“Sho nuff Remy a horn dog but he no predator.” The two glared at each other before Lorna relented.

“Then what happened the night you picked him up from The Boneyard?” Remy looked over towards the kitchen to make sure the guitarist was still busy.

“You gonna get mad?” Lorna narrowed her eyes.

“At you or at Pietro?” Remy took in a deep breath.

“Mostly at Alex.” Predictably, her face took on a dark expression.

“Go on.” The bassist looked towards the kitchen again. Not seeing the guitarist yet, he continued.

“Found yo brutha drunk wit’ Alex at tha bar.” Lorna’s expression did not change, “He tried to get yo brutha to trade him some of our work fo’ cocaine.”

Lorna's expression still did not change. Remy continued, but more cautiously, “Well, yo brutha refused an’ tol’ him ‘e was glad you were no longer with em. That you and Pietro were doin’ better without em.”

Lorna finally had an expression. It was a precursor to the snot sobbing that took place in the hallway recently. “Den yo brutha ruined Remy favorite suede coat wit’ vomit.”

Lorna took a deep breath, “What happened after that? Why does Pietro think you two slept together?”

Remy blushed thinking back, “Ya see, Remy didn' know de code to yo brutha’s room, so… he slept it off in Remy’s.”

He had omitted several details, which Lorna seemed to pick up on, “What are you not telling me?”

“Naked.”

“Oh my God, what the fuck, Remy?!” She exploded, cards scattered everywhere. Pietro walked back in, alarmed at the noise.

“Please, Lorna. Luna's asleep. Did Remy win?”

The bassist gave the other man a wry and lecherous smile, “Not yet.”

Lorna threw her water in his face.

Chapter Text

The morning of Luna's departure was bittersweet. She gave her father a fierce hug, squeezing every ounce of love and strength into it. Pietro did the same, though careful not to squeeze too hard. They stayed like that in front of the warehouse for several minutes until Crystal gently touched her daughter's back.

Luna finally released her dad who had been waiting for her to let go first. He planted several kisses all over her face until she stopped him, “I love you, Daddy, but I have to go now.”

He tried not to laugh, and nodded solemnly, “I understand.”

“You will be ok,” She nodded her head towards Remy, “Uncle Remy will look after you until I get back.” Every adult in the room froze.

“What?” Pietro asked, flustered.

“Right?” Luna turned her large blue eyes onto Remy. Pietro turned to Remy in utter bewilderment and mild horror, silently mouthing, ‘What did you say?’

Crystal coughed briefly, “I think it's time we leave.” She turned to regard Pietro with understated affection as Luna gave one final hug before returning to her mother, “We’ll see you next weekend… I'm… I'm happy for you Pietro.”

Her eyes briefly flicked towards Remy and the air grew tense. Luna and Crystal left. The All New X-Factor went inside to the communal space of the warehouse before Pietro grabbed Remy by the collar of his freshly laundered suede trenchcoat and hauled him into Pietro's room, “Ah, cher, you stronger den you look.”

The Cajun found himself slammed up against the door once inside the room, “What did you tell my daughter?”

Usually Remy would banter or try to get under the guitarist's skin, but he had learned over the weekend there was one line to not cross with Pietro, and that was family. Especially his daughter, “Nuthin. She think Remy like you. Gave some intel on yo' favorite animals. She want Uncle Remy to stay in de picture if Remy make you happy.”

Quicksilver looked mildly spooked before dropping his head on Gambit's chest and exhaling in relief, “Thank God.”

“Whatchu tink Remy gonna talk wit a tot about?” Pietro gave a look that gave the brunette the impression the silver haired man didn't think highly of his judgement.

“My apologies then.” The guitarist backed off and the bassist stayed put blocking the door before an awkward standoff ensued, “You may leave now.”

“Nah. We gotta talk anyway. Man ta man.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

“No, we really don't have to.” Pietro gestured for him to leave.

“Nah. We do.” Both men stared at each other, neither giving an inch until the guitarist finally cracked.

“I don't want to.” Remy rolled his eyes at the response.

“Of all the childish… Pietro-” Remy pushed away from the door and started towards the other man.

“Shut up.” Said other man started backing away.

“Ya need ta know-” He tried to put his hands out in a placating manner. No one was placated.

“I don't need to know anything, just get out.” The guitarist slapped his hands away, still backing up.

“We didn' do nuthin’!” Remy finally snapped.

“What?” Pietro stopped moving.

“Dat night you got drunk.” The Cajun rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand.

The other man looked at him in disbelief, “I was in your room.”

“Didn' have de code fo’ yo’ do’.” That was a simple explanation, except…

“I was in your bed.” The tone was accusatory.

“You crawled in dere, cher.” That also was plausible, except…

“Naked.” There did not appear to be a lot of confidence in Remy coming up with an innocent reason for that.

“Remy helped ya wash de vomit off.” Pietro looked away in embarrassment.

“I was naked with you… in bed.” He refused to make eye contact and mumbled out the last part.

“You didn' wanna be alone. Deez hands stayed put.” Pietro looked both relieved and… disappointed? “Not dat Remy not tempted, but only creeps take advantage of people who outta dey minds.”

Pietro grimaced, “Alex?”

“Alex a creep.”

“Does that make you think less of me?” The guitarist met the bassist's gaze, questioning. Remy broke first, throwing himself into the other man who surprised him by not trying to disengage or leave. The kissing was hot and heavy, ending with Remy on his back on the fabled Quicksilver's immaculate bed in his pristine room. The guitarist’s strong thighs were settled around the bassist's hips.

Remy was actively, greedily, relieving the other man of his shirt, drooling at every bit of flesh revealed. He had seen it all the night Pietro had been drunk, but it was not the same. The context was very important. Pietro seemed just as hungry for something, anything.

“Ya eva been wit’ a man befo’?” Remy knew the answer, but he needed to hear it again.

“Just Crystal…” Pietro was running his talented fingers under Remy's shirt in anticipation, barely listening to the question.

“No one else?” He honestly couldn't believe that someone like Pietro had truly never been with anyone else.

“Well…,” Pietro blushed, and Remy braced himself for the scandal, “I made out with Warbird once…” Remy burst out laughing. “Why is that funny?”

The guitarist stopped touching the Cajun and sat back in Remy's lap with his arms crossed looking pissed, “It not funny. You jus’ mo’ innocent den Remy thought.”

“Well, that’s something I’ve never been accused of.” Pietro broke away from another kiss as something dark took hold of his features. Something Remy was starting to recognize as self-loathing. That wouldn’t do.

“You n' Crystal got real busy, huh?” Pietro went back to blushing, and looking even more adorably embarrassed. He mumbled something Remy was certain he had misheard. “What?”

“...just a few times.”

“What?”

“We were both young… and I was exceedingly stupid… we did it once, then she was pregnant. We tried a few more times but we couldn’t stand each other. Luna is pretty amazing though.” He could almost see the stars in Pietro's eyes as he started gushing about his daughter and completely killing the mood. Remy tried to pull him back.

“When was de last time you was wit’ Crystal? An’ Remy mean penetration, not kissin’.”

“... it’s been a few… years.” Remy captured his mouth.

“Years, huh?” It was husky and whispered in the other man's ear.

“Y-yeah…” Pietro gasped out as he started to grasp at Remy’s shoulders. Little pants began to escape the guitar God followed by quiet whimpers that fueled Remy's desire.

Eventually, the Cajun flipped their positions and found himself completely over the other man whose face was now turning bright red. The large blue irises were almost completely hidden by enlarged pupils. The whimpers had diminished but Remy realized with some dismay that it was a result of Pietro stifling the noises he was making by biting his lower lip. Something firm was definitely pressing against the guitarist's tight jeans. At this point anyone, even Anna or Mr. Eisenhardt, could have walked in and Remy would not have given a single shit.

“Pietro…” Holy shit. They were going to do what he had been dying to do for ages… or at least for many weeks.

“Yes, Remy?” Pietro seemed to be having similar anxieties because his accent started to creep back in.

“Remy wanna do terribly depraved tings ta you. Is dat somethin’ you want?” Full consent. No misunderstandings. No barriers. Just depraved morning sex.

“I… I don't want you to leave me.” Remy could almost hear his erection screeching to a halt.

“What?” He couldn't believe this was what was on Pietro’s mind right before he was about to give him the experience and privilege of a lifetime.

“You will hate me, and you will leave.” Pietro was suddenly pushing himself up from under Remy on shaky arms.

“Why would Remy hate you?” What the hell were they even talking about? How did they even get to this point?

“I've never been good at… This.” Pietro gestured between the two of them.

“Well, you only done it a handful o’ times.” Pietro turned away in embarrassment.

“I meant relationships.” Remy wasn't sure what to say, so of course Pietro inferred all of his insecurities into the silence. “Of course, I misunderstood. I thought… I… We-I didn't mean to imply you wanted anything other than sex.”

Now Remy was feeling insulted. His expression must have been glaringly obvious, “That's not to presume you would even want to have sex with me. I know you don't need…” Pietro paused, exhaled sharply, and proceeded to get up quickly, pushing Remy aside as he hurriedly grabbed his shirt before turning back to Remy, “I…”

He bit his lip again and suddenly looked on the verge of tears. Instead of finishing his sentence, he grabbed his guitar and left, leaving Remy on the bed.

“What da fuck?”

Chapter Text

Many victories were achieved as the holidays and the spring concert season grew closer. To everyone's surprise, Danger and Warlock became official just before Thanksgiving. Their relationship was unconventional, but somehow it worked. Where Danger was almost robotic, Warlock was excitable and passionate. They balanced each other.

The perk for the band, aside from Danger and Warlock's happiness, was that Warlock was developing ways to communicate with Danger more effectively, and Danger was starting to understand how to work more cohesively with her band mates. She could not ‘feel’ her way through the music like Remy, but she could clinically determine what complimented what was playing.

By the time the holidays came around, they were finally working well together. It was promising, despite the awkwardness that continued between Remy and Pietro.

Not even Grindr could save Remy. Now every time he tried to hook up, he just envisioned Pietro crying and it killed his mood. The guitarist saw him as a fuck boy, and he wasn't wrong. He was a fuck boy, and Pietro clearly didn't need or want that.

Like Anna. Until she got sick of Remy’s shit and left.

A reckoning was coming to fruition in Remy's head. He had no partners. No family. Limited friends. And watching Warlock and Danger of all the odd ducks find happiness and fulfillment together started doing a number on him.

What the hell was he doing with his life?

He didn't have hobbies outside of work. All he did was play bass, party, and fuck. And now he couldn't even enjoy two of those things.

He at least had the cats. Then Luna ruined that on a visit where she pointed out that his cats seemed to prefer her dad. The traitorous little shits!

They avoided him and congregated around Pietro like he was the one feeding them and changing their litter every day. The guitarist didn't even touch them! They would just sit on or around him, rub against his legs, purr in his presence. Remy knew they knew they were taunting the Cajun.

“Ungrateful thugs.” Lucifer glanced at him knowingly from next to Pietro's hip while the guitarist tied his dress shoes. The X-Factor had been invited to a Christmas party being hosted by Stark Industries, and Snow was not allowing anyone to opt out.

Remy found himself staring at how good Pietro looked in a suit. The guitarist definitely noticed but turned away and ignored him.

They all looked fabulous, but no one looked excited to go. Except for Snow, of course.

Lorna had chosen a dark green crushed velvet dress. The rest of them were wearing suits of varying shades, including Danger. Everyone who was anyone in the music industry was going to be there.

It was going to suck.