Ideology-verse fic, "Bayou Boys".

Jun 13, 2006 17:34

Title: Bayou Boys
Author: Sionnain
’Verse: Movieverse, though this is set in my Ideology-verse. Vaguely a sequel to Canadian Whiskey.
Pairing: Pyro/Gambit
Genre: Humor mostly. A lot of snark.
Rating: Adult, for language and implied naughtiness
Summary: They’d just passed Baton Rouge, and Pyro was already sick of Louisiana. The Eddy Raven tape wasn’t helping. Neither was Gambit.

AN: Written for eldee. Thanks to Kethlenda for the beta! The song “Bayou Boys” by Eddy Raven is one I think you’ll remember from our drive to the airport, eldee! It’s the cheesiest thing ever. Eldee, this is for you so I do hope you like it :)



Bayou Boys

“Everybody knew we was bayou boys…”

Pyro tried very hard not to glare at Gambit, wondering if the other man would mind if he took that stupid Eddy Raven tape-who still had tapes, anyhow?-and threw it out the fucking window. He was really getting sick of Zydeco music, and they’d just passed Baton Rouge. The signs said it was still an hour and a half to New Orleans.

Gambit appeared to be enjoying the tape, if his singing was any indication. That didn’t bode well for Pyro’s “out the window” plan.

Pyro wiped the sweat off his brow for the thousandth time and sank down in the seat, the fabric of his shirt sticking to his back. He was fucking miserable and he had no idea how Gambit wasn’t roasting to death in this fucking weather. The air conditioning in the car was broken, and while they had the windows down, the breeze was doing nothing to cool Pyro off at all. The air was saturated with moisture and even breathing was becoming annoying.

“You don’t look so good, mon ange,” Gambit said cheerfully, looking over at him.

I’m only dying over here, you asshat. “Yeah, well. I’m hot,” he muttered, looking longingly at the air vents. He’d turned on the outside-air feature, but all that did was make him furious, so he’d turned it off again.

Gambit looked unconcerned. “Just summer in Louisiana, St. John.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have my body temperature, Remy, so shut up,” Pyro said irritably. “Can’t we like, pull over and steal a car with air conditioning?” His voice was perilously close to a whine.

“What if the next one doesn’t have a tape player?”

Pyro had the distinct feeling Gambit was being an ass on purpose. “Oh, no,” he said, making his eyes very wide. “What would we do if we didn’t have to listen to-Eddy Scarecrow, was it?”

“Raven,” Gambit said calmly, not rising to the bait.

“What if I promise to buy you a new CD at the mall or something?” Pyro offered. He would, too. One that didn’t suck.

“What if they don’t have this one?”

“Gambit, I’m dying. This is the worst state in the whole fucking country, and the surface of the sun isn’t this hot, and I feel like I’m breathing through a sponge-”

“That’s the humidity,” Gambit supplied helpfully.

Pyro glared at him. “Yeah, well, I could start a fucking fire with the glare coming off the street. You want me to do that? Do you?”

“I want you to stop whining, is what I want,” Gambit said, smirking.

“Yeah, well, I want air conditioning. I don’t ask for much, you know,” Pyro sulked, gritting his teeth as Gambit flipped the tape over and pressed Play again. “And maybe a CD player.” He thought sadly of his Three Days Grace CD in his backpack. Maybe that would make him think about Canada, and cold.

“This list will continue the longer you think about it. I know you, St. John,” Gambit said with a laugh. “We’ll switch the car in New Orleans, mon ange, promise.”

The endearment did nothing to soothe Pyro’s ire. About the only thing that would be able to do that was a nice hotel room, dark with the shades drawn, and the air conditioner on full blast. Pyro wanted to see the damn thing set so low it had ice crystals on it. At the thought of ice, he nearly moaned out loud.

The drive continued with Pyro trying to force himself from singing along to the tape out of boredom (his pride would never recover. Never.) and thinking about deliciously cold air. Finally, when his shirt was soaked through and he couldn’t take it anymore, he reached for his lighter. It slid slickly through his fingers.

With a quick jab, he hit the Eject button and snatched the offending tape out of the deck. He flicked his lighter open and dangled the cassette threateningly over it, his free hand poised to strike the lighting mechanism.

“Hey-”

“Pull over and get a car with air conditioning, LeBeau, or the fucking Eddy Raven tape becomes Cajun singer en flambé.” Pyro’s eyes were narrowed.

Gambit called him something very mean and crude in French. Pyro didn’t blink. Instead, he flicked the lighter and drew out some fire. “Seriously, dude. I’m so not fucking kidding.”

Gambit jerked the car over into the right lane with far more force than was needed, but Pyro had good enough control over the fire that the flame didn’t waver in the slightest. “You’re not going to burn my tape.” He pulled off the highway and into a gas station. “I don’t think you’ve got the balls, Pyro.”

“You wanna fucking see? I’m a bad guy, LeBeau. No mercy!” He waved the flame threateningly. Pyro wondered what they must have looked like to anyone else in the parking lot. Crazy, probably. That was exactly how he felt.

“Would you put that out?” Gambit hissed. “Magneto told us to keep a low profile, and waving fire around doesn’t fit, oui?”

“He also probably would like you not to kill me,” Pyro snapped. “Which you are doing by refusing my simple request-”

Gambit cursed again, this time so quickly that Pyro had no idea what he was saying. He thought maybe Gambit said something unflattering about his mother. It was probably true, though, so Pyro didn’t really care. Eventually, Gambit turned the car off and opened the door, striding across the parking lot without another word.

Humming, Pyro collected his belongings and peeled himself off the seat. He almost left the tape in the car, but thought better of it. He was a bad guy, but he wasn’t an idiot.

* * *
By the time they’d arrived in Metairie, the sun had begun to set, but it did nothing for the air temperature. The car Gambit had stolen had air conditioning and a CD player, but in a rather ironic twist of fate, it also had a tape deck. Gambit had played Bayou Boys on repeat for the duration of the seventy-mile drive, but Pyro didn’t say a word.

He just pointed all the vents at himself and tried to cool off.

By the time they’d checked in to the hotel, Pyro didn’t want to kill anyone, but he was sticky and exhausted and disgusted with Louisiana, the South, heat, humidity, Gambit, being a mutant with an elevated body temperature, Zydeco music, Eddy Fucking Raven, and that goddamned song.

He threw his bag on the floor the moment they’d entered the room, and went straight to the air conditioning unit. He turned it on as low as it would go and resisted the urge to drape himself over it. Unfortunately, he was too hot too cool down properly. “Fuck.”

“Right now? You don’t seem in the mood.”

“Fuck off, LeBeau. You and this entire fucking state suck.”

“Now you know how I feel about Canada,” Gambit said smugly, flopping on the bed. He didn’t even look like he’d broken a sweat.

Pyro glared at him and stripped his t-shirt off, and then his jeans, leaving them in a sweaty pile on the floor. He headed for the shower, but paused next to where Gambit was lying. “I swear to fucking God, if you turn that air conditioner down while I’m in the shower, I will burn your trench-coat, your staff-stop smirking, not that one, though don’t tempt me-and possibly your entire head of hair in your sleep.”

Gambit gave him an unfriendly look, eyes narrowed. “Go cool off before I smack you,” he growled.

“Oh, would you stop it? Who the fuck do you think you are? Magneto?” Pyro glared at him. “You don’t scare me, you know.”

“Should I try harder?” Gambit stood up slowly. He was taller than Pyro. “Where’s your fire at, mmm? You think your scrawny ass can take me in a fight?”

“Yeah, because I’ll just kick you in the nuts and go get my lighter.” Pyro smirked. “And Rogue knocks you on your ass all the time without even using her powers.”

“Maybe I let her because I like it when she falls on top of me,” Gambit suggested slyly, advancing.

“Yeah, whatever, try and make me jealous.” Pyro rolled his eyes. “Rogue’s skin would kill you if Magneto didn’t do it first.”

Gambit was standing directly in front of him, looking as if he were about to say something. He didn’t, though; he reached out a hand and placed it on Pyro’s shoulder. “Mon Dieu, your skin feels like it’s on fire.”

“Um, hello…!” Pyro jerked away and went into the bathroom. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for like, three hours. Can I please take a shower now or do you want to taunt me some more?”

“Kind of,” Gambit said, but he was smiling. “I can wait, though.”

“Thanks,” Pyro muttered, walking into the bathroom. He turned the shower on ice cold, and stripped off his boxers. He tried not to shout at how good the icy water felt on his overheated skin, and he lay on his back in the tub with his eyes closed in bliss.

Gambit found him there thirty minutes later, half-asleep. “Ah…are you going to wake up? You’re not dead, are you?” He sounded vaguely worried, until he eventually noticed Pyro’s condition. “Ah. No, no you’re not.”

Pyro opened one eye and looked up at Gambit. He smiled lazily. “I’m feeling much cooler now.” His voice was soft, almost a purr.

“I think your attraction to Iceman makes more sense to me, now,” Gambit muttered.

“Dude, do you want to keep me in this condition or not? Don’t mention Drake, hello. That’s bad form, man.” He stretched lazily, his lanky form too big for the tub. He had a crick in his neck and his back kind of hurt from the awkward position, but he didn’t care.

“I’m starving, St. John. You want to go get something to eat?”

“How can anyone eat in this heat?”

“The car has air conditioning, and it’s dark outside now,” Gambit answered, smiling.

“Is it still hot out? I bet it is.” Pyro, however, was eighteen years old and hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Can we have pizza?”

“Sure.” Gambit reached down and took his hand, unceremoniously hauling him up to his feet. He backed Pyro up against the wall, pressing his warm body against Pyro’s, his fingers smoothing through Pyro’s wet hair. “Maybe we could just order one.”

Pyro smiled. “Good idea.”

* * *
Later that night, when he was well-fed and no longer nearly so testy with Gambit-or anything else, really-Pyro lay on his back and played with his lighter. “I’m sorry I threatened to burn your tape,” he said gruffly.

“No you’re not.”

“Okay, no, but…I would like to be sorry because it’s you,” Pyro said sincerely. The hotel room was dark; the only light came from the flickering television. Gambit had nicely put on the Sci-Fi movie of the week, which was called Ice. The drapes were closed, and the air conditioner was so cold Pyro thought he could almost see his breath in the room.

Perfect.

Gambit sighed. “This is just like fucking Canada,” he muttered.

Pyro rolled his eyes. “Canada wasn’t all bad.”

“Yes it was.”

He would have said something else, but just then, his cell phone rang. Gambit snorted at the My Chemical Romance ringtone, but Pyro ignored him. “Boss is calling. Hello?”

“You’ve arrived, then?”

Trust Magneto not to mince any words. “Yeah. We’re here.”

“Good. And you’re clear on the assignment?”

“Yes.” Pyro yawned. “We’ll get on that first thing in the morning.”

“See that you do. I’ll need you back here by Wednesday.” Magneto made an irritated sound. “Just one second, Rogue is acting quite childish and demanding to speak with you.”

Pyro smiled at that, and laughed when Rogue spoke. “I so wasn’t, I just asked if I could talk to you. Arrogant man.”

“He’s not in the room anymore, is he?” Pyro asked, watching as the car on the television skidded into an embankment after some idiot shot a gun off inside. Stupid humans.

“Duh. So, hey, do me a favor, will you?”

“What?” Pyro asked, sounding as if she’d just asked him to bring back the moon.

“God, you’re so irritating,” she said, laughing. “Bring me back a moon pie.”

“A what?”

“A moon pie. Ask Gambit, he’ll know what it is. Ooh, and an RC Cola.” Rogue laughed. “And maybe some lightning bugs in a jar.”

“Hey, Rogue? Does Magneto know you’ve lost it?” He snorted at the incensed sound she made.

“I ain’t lost it. I’m just a little jealous. Homesick, is all. Tell Gambit hey.” She hung up without saying goodbye. Rogue liked to have the last word.

He relayed the message to Gambit, who laughed. “Moon pie. It’s a marshmallow thing with chocolate. I’ll show you.” He moved with his usual exuberance to pin Pyro to the bed. “I’m freezing now, and since this is your fault, you’ll have to warm me up.” Gambit kissed him, but just when Pyro was getting into it, Gambit started snickering.

“What?”

“Do you think Magneto leaves that helmet on? You know, when he’s with Rogue?”

The mental image of that was about as arousing as whatever that moon pie thing was. “Seriously? You could like, win medals in ‘fastest way to ruin a mood, ever’ competitions,” Pyro informed him. “God, ugh. Why did you have to put that image in my head?”

“I can’t help it! It’s making me laugh.” Gambit lowered his head to rest in the crook of Pyro’s neck, his entire body vibrating as he laughed.

“I think the heat made you crazy,” Pyro muttered.

“No, you make me crazy,” Gambit said.

Pyro grinned. “Yeah?”

“Oui.” Gambit raised his head. “I didn’t mean that in a nice way, St. John.”

“Yeah, I know. I still like hearing it, though.”

“Did no one ever teach you the difference between good attention and bad attention?” Gambit lowered his head again and sucked on Pyro’s neck.

“Nope. Could you maybe just give me some attention and tell me about it later?” Pyro suggested, shifting beneath him, his hands tangling in Gambit’s messy hair.

Gambit sighed dramatically. “I suppose so.”

Pyro woke up later that night when he heard someone moving around in the dark. He nearly went for his lighter until he realized it was Gambit. The other man was quietly sneaking over to the air conditioning unit beneath the window.

“I hid that stupid tape, Remy. I’m not going to tell you where until we check out and are back in the nice, air-conditioned car. If you ever want your stupid tape back, don’t touch that thing.”

Gambit turned and came back to bed, making as much noise as possible. He was silent as he settle back down, curving his body around Pyro’s. Contented, Pyro closed his eyes, intent on going back to sleep.

Quietly, in a voice no louder than a whisper, Gambit began singing.

“We raise a lot of hell, we make a lot of noise, everybody knew we was Bayou Boys…”

Pyro threw the covers back and turned the air conditioner down, just enough to hopefully placate Gambit into shutting the hell up. The only consolation was that he’d “hidden” the tape right on the nice, dark black dashboard. Hopefully, it would be toast by morning.

Except that maybe Gambit would sing the rest of the….

Deciding he best not take any chances, Pyro waited until Gambit fell asleep before getting up and going down to the car. He put the tape in the glove compartment.

A bad guy. Not an idiot.

ideology-verse, pyro/gambit

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