#remy verse: le coquin errant

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@defectivexfragmented cue the angst

There hadn't been any time for actual thought. There hadn't been much time for anything, really. Not since he'd woken up in that hospital room feeling weak as a day-old kitten and being informed that he'd been in a coma for the past two weeks. At first it hadn't really set in, his mind trying to catch up with what had happened. The fight, the injuries, the pain, the way his mind had drifted to Matt there at the end…

But where was Matt? He hadn't been there when Remy had woken, and attempts to ask about him got various reactions ranging from blank looks to shrugs. Which meant Matt wasn't there. Which meant Matt might not know. Which meant-…oh hell.

Given just how badly Remy had been injured there was no way in hell anyone would just let him walk out of here if he asked. So he didn't ask. As soon as shift change hit Remy was moving, pulling the various tubes and monitors off himself and slipping out of his room. It took longer than he'd have liked to actually find a spare set of scrubs and a car that could be quickly hotwired, but within an hour or so he was flooring it down the highway. Within a handful more he'd abandoned the car in an alley and was climbing in through Matt's living room window; it was faster than waiting for the door.

"Mathieu? You here, chèr?" Hopefully Matt was actually home; if not, Remy would wait.

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Remy kept himself largely out of the way - though still within arm's reach of Matt - when Claire arrived, though he was quick to back up Matt's defense. It hadn't been Matt's fault, at least this time; hell, Matt had been trying to avoid the fight. Still, given how often Claire did have to patch Matt back up, her annoyance was at least a little understandable.

It was a relief when Claire finally sat back and declared it a mild concussion. The order to rest came as no surprise - that was pretty much the only treatment for a concussion, as far as Remy knew - but everything else got a nod. No need to panic yet, so long as things didn't get worse. That was good.

Two weeks offduty, though…that was going to be the hard part. Matt took his work seriously, Remy knew, and two weeks with Daredevil on the streets was going to be a very tall order to achieve. Remy could go on patrol in his place, sure, but that brought the risk of Matt slipping out anyway with no one to keep an eye on him.

Handcuffing him to the bed might actually be necessary.

But he could worry about that later. For now he just wanted to get Matt settled again.

His eyes softened at Matt's renewed insistence reassurance, and he reached out to cup his alleycat's cheeks gently in his hands. "No you ain't," he said softly, fondly. "I know you tough, Mathieu, an' I know you gon' be jus' fine, but right at dis very moment you ain't runnin' at a hundred percent. I coulda lost you las' night. So let's jus' take dis a day at a time, hein?"

His thumb stroked over Matt's cheek. "A li'l bedrest ain't gon' do you no harm, chèr, you know dat. An' I'll take on de patrols for de nex' day or so, at least. Make sure y'town still looked after good. A'right?"

Claire arrived faster than Matt had anticipated, though he had been dozing on and off against Remy’s side for most of the time until the Cajun began to move with the knock at the door. He slid out of the other’s embrace and then from the bed to stretch out his tense muscles, waiting until he heard Remy's footsteps reach the living room before lazily following in the man's wake, waiting there against the couch for him to answer the door.

“In my defense, I wasn’t out on patrol this time. I could probably argue that I was innocent.” A flash of a charming yet sheepish smile to try to tame her anger, if even in the slightest.

“Shut it, counselor.” Claire snapped back, dropping her medical bag onto the couch beside him.

~~~~

A half hour had passed before the nurse had finished her examination, the occasional comment about how he was going to get himself killed one of these days muttered under her breath, though Matt did not try to correct her. Instead he was focused on sitting still and being a good patient for Remy's sake. Once she was done, she hiked her kit back up onto her shoulder and walked over to Remy.

“I’m going to tell you since a certain someone doesn’t have the best track record of taking care of himself; obviously, he has a concussion. I would say it’s mild, even with the brief memory loss you told me about earlier. He should be alright if he rests. Just because it’s mild now doesn't mean it won’t get worse if he doesn’t allow his body the chance to heal.

“If he gets any worse than how he is right now, then he needs to go to the hospital. He may be a little confused like he was a little earlier, that’s alright. He just can’t get any worse. Understand? If his headache gets worse, hospital. If he starts to get ill, hospital. Some confusion is normal, don’t panic. Two weeks is the minimum amount of rest he needs before he goes back out. Longer if you feel he isn’t better. You have my permission to handcuff him to the bed if you need to. No alcohol.”

“Claire, you’re overreacting-“ Matt tried to interject.

“Don’t even, Matthew!” Snapping over her shoulder, Claire turned back to Remy. “Hot baths for the bruising. Good luck with him. You’re going to need it.”

Matt waited until he heard the door shut before he dared to speak again. "Remy, she's overreacting. I'm fine."

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closed starter for @defectivexfragmented and Matt

Every poker game is different. That's something Remy Lebeau learned a long time ago. Each table had its own quirks, each group of players its own atmosphere, every house its own rules, every dealer their own tricks. He'd gotten pretty damn good at gauging a game over the years, and this one…well, he might actually have overplayed his hand, accepting the invitation to this one.

The looks he was getting from the other men at the table were not good. One of them, with a distinctive scar on his face, had eyes far too bright, too eager. Too predatory. Another, dressed like a veteran of a desert campaign, had the air of a killer about him, a man for whom pain was an art and death a close companion. The one in the suit was the least unsettling - crooked politicians were a dime a dozen, honestly - and the fourth…his uniform with its gold braids and its medals, along with his too-easy smile, something about him just screamed that here was a man for whom war was nothing but a game.

And here he was, Remy Lebeau, thief and gambler, the odd man out. Something wasn't right here, though he wasn't quite sure what it was yet. Still, so far it didn't seem to be anything he couldn't handle, and there was still one chair left open. Remy slid into what was clearly his assigned seat, giving the other players an easy smile and the dealer a nod as between equals. "Evenin', boys. When we gettin' started?"

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@defectivexfragmented [from here]

Honestly, Matt really was far too easy a target. And that blush was entirely too tempting; Remy very much wanted to keep pushing, see just how far he could take this. Why not? Matt was a good-looking man, someone Remy absolutely would not mind having in his bed some time…but that would be going too far, at least right now. Flustering the man was all fine and good, but until he had some clearer sign Matt was actually interested Remy would content himself with this.

Mostly.

"You're de one said he wasn't blushin'," he reminded with a grin, shifting his weight back to allow Matt a little more space. "All I did was agree with ya. But sure, I never turn down a drink." Looked like Matt could use one right now, too. "How stocked you keep your bar, mon ami? You got de makin's, I'll fix ya my favorite. Li'l taste a New Orleans up here in de Big Apple, hein?"

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closed starter for @defectivexfragmented

Remy had always been something of a drifter since his departure from New Orleans, never quite putting down roots anywhere, never staying longer than a month or so in any given place, constantly on the move. Things had changed now, though; he still traveled, still wandered over the globe, but there was a metaphorical line attached to him that always and without fail brought him back to New York. Back to Hell's Kitchen.

Back to Matthew Murdock.

He'd found he was staying longer each time, too, settling into a city that was fast becoming an adopted home, all due to one man. The man that Remy was now looking for, in fact; he'd just gotten back from a job up in Canada - nothing too major, but enough to keep him out of town for a week - and had stopped by Matt's apartment only to find the man out.

Given it was still a bit too early for Daredevil to be on patrol Remy stopped by Matt's office only to find it closed, no one pulling any overtime today. No sign of him at Josie's, either, which had Remy starting to get a little concerned. He could try texting or calling, sure, but he'd wanted to surprise Matt in person rather than over the phone. Still, there was one place he hadn't checked yet: Matt's gym. It was late, probably close to closing for the place, but Remy made his way there regardless.

If Matt wasn't there, then Remy would give him a call. If he was…well, then Remy would enjoy a little show before formally announcing his presence. Matt would, of course, hear him come in, but it was still polite to actually say something to let his alleycat know he was there.

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"Good bar needs two things," Remy said with an easy laugh. "Good bourbon an' a good bartender. Dis place got both." Having a corner table suitable for a game of cards was a bonus but hardly necessary; Remy could find space for a card game no matter where he was.

Taking the drink - far be it from him to argue free bourbon if Logan felt that generous - he lifted it in salute both to Logan and the barkeep before taking a sip and shrugging casually. "Nah, ain't nothin' like dat, don'tchu be worryin'," he said with a chuckle. "Jus' passin' through town, figured I'd stop an' enjoy a glass'r two. Take it you tryin'a 'void trouble f'a while?"

Remy wasn't blind, and neither was he stupid. He might not know Logan that well, but he knew the man well enough to know there were levels to his grouchiness. Right now…well, Logan wasn't being completely antisocial, but neither did he seem in the mood for more than peripheral company, which probably meant something had happened. It also almost definitely meant that if Remy asked outright he'd either get ignored or told to fuck off.

"Good taste in bars?" Logan snorted out a laugh, the corners of his lips curving into a faintly reluctant half smile. "You don't have a high standard for your bars then." He lifted his hand, signalling to the bartender to bring them both a drink. He shifted in his seat so that he could turn more towards Remy, watching him for a moment. "What brings you here? Not looking for me, I hope." He knew that he was being particularly grouchy, however it'd been one of those days and god forbid Logan let anyone see him having a vulnerable moment.

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Remy, pick between a pardon to return New Orleans for the rest of your life and being with Matt

[Make Them Choose Between Two Things || always accepting tbh]

"...Matt." His voice is quiet, rough with emotion, but there is very little - almost no -hesitation to his answer. "I'd stay with Matt. A pardon, goin' back home without worryin' 'bout startin' a war...Dieu ait pitié, I miss de Quarter an' de smell a the streets in de rain, but...I'd want Matt there with me, an' he ain't leavin' New York. So I'mma stay wit' him, if it's all de same t'you."

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@defectivexfragmented [from x]

"You know me better'n dat." Remy's voice was just as soft, his lips brushing over Matt's skin. "An' we both know, good as liar as I am, I couldn' pull one over on you'f I tried."

Well. Maybe if he tried. But he never would. He had far too much respect for Matt to do that.

"Y'scars don' bother me none, mon chèr. I seen worse'n 'em jus' lookin' in de mirror." Though he could never look at them for long. "An' I could feed ya some line 'bout takin' pride in 'em, dey bein' some kinda badges o' survival, but…" He nuzzled against Matt's neck, not bothering to hide his smile. "true as 'at is, hones' answer is I jus' like 'em. Dey a part of you, jus' addin' to dem devilish good looks a yours."

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⁂ Remy, Matt

[Send the thing to dodge a bullet || accepting]

Normally, when Remy got back into town late from a long trip, he simply stopped by Matt's apartment to wait until the vigilante had returned from the night's patrol. It was rare that he actually went out looking for his alleycat, and usually only if he'd heard rumblings of something big going down. Matt probably wouldn't need the backup, but some things Remy just didn't like leaving to chance.

Such was the case tonight.

Matt could take care of himself, Remy knew, but even Daredevil could get overwhelmed and outnumbered if the conditions were right. Heightened senses were all well and good, but once that focus had to spread out the chances of someone actually managing to sneak up on Matt got high enough for Remy to actively worry about - which is to say it became a non-zero chance at all.

By the time he managed to track Matt down the fight was in full swing and Matt himself was holding his own. No surprise there, though Remy did pause for just a second to admire the view. That was probably what cost them, given several things happened at once in that brief moment: the wind shifted, a gust suddenly coming from behind him and carrying his scent into the alley; Matt's movement slowed for the barest fraction of a second, quite possibly due to registering the new arrival; and one of his opponents took advantage of the momentary lull to take aim.

Oh hell no.

Remy exploded into action, almost literally, his power surging through his body to enhance his movements, make them a little faster, far more fluid. The gun went off just as he reached Matt, catching Remy in the shoulder; he let the impact spin him around, using the momentum to his own advantage and send the charged end of his now-extended staff directly into the gunman's chest. The resulting impact sent the man flying into the nearest wall, Remy ending up with his back to Matt's, staff in hand, feral grin on his face. "Helluva night you havin', alleycat. Mind 'f I join de fun?"

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"Remy," he corrected easily, pouring the boy a glass of water and bringing it over. "Ain't never been one t'stand on ceremony, don'tchu worry 'bout dat wi' me."

He retook his seat on the couch and studied the boy hero in quiet, amused thought. "Gon' guess de name's a legacy, then?" he asked with a knowing smile. "Gotham got stories a Robin prob'ly not too much older'n you are. Good on you, makin' it y'own." Legacy names weren't exactly common, but they weren't unheard of, either. Taking up the mantle of a fallen hero, stepping into someone's shoes while they were out of commission, there were any number of reasons to carry a title that hadn't begun with you.

"Go on'n sit down, petit," he added, motioning for Robin to take a seat. "Ain't no call t'go standin' 'less y'jus' want to. Make y'self comfortable. Given de lack o' panic an'urgency I'm guessin' Gotham enjoyin' a quiet night f'once."

" I didn't pick the colours, I just added pants." He grinned back.

Maybe it was the general attitude but this stranger was oddly easy to talk to. And if the guy had only ever passed through Gotham and not caused trouble then fine by him. Probably nothing to worry about and if it was, it wouldn't be his problem to tackle unless the man decides to go ham in Gotham one day. The people were proud of their vigilantes... or at least they'd started to be proud again after everything. Tim might prefer his black and green outfit these days but he still liked to bring out the classic traffic light colours for a while. A great deal of meaning had been assigned to them.

The old classic was for calmer nights, for reminding the people that he was still here and still willing to inspire hope. His Knighthood, as everyone had dubbed their respective versions of the suit, were for nights when someone had fucked up and Tim was leaning harder into the stealth and silent brutal takedowns.

"Water please, Mr Lebeau." A polite smile though he was finally breaking the habit of slipping immediately into gala mode.

Not attending for a couple of years had done wonders.

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"Uhhhh.... hi there? I uh. Got a little turned around so I'll just-" Robin jabs his thumb towards the exit and starts to sloooooowly back away. -arobinwithoutbatman ((up to you whichever Marvel muse you use, I just find DC Marvel crossovers fascinating and thought this would be funny))

Remy doesn't even bother moving, staring at the kid in quiet bemusement. This isn't the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him. "Ain't gotta leave on my account, petit," he says with a chuckle. "But how you got turned roun' dis bad gotta be some kinda story, hein? Where you tryin'a go in 'at get-up?" Not that he really has any room to comment on someone's outfit, considering the things some former teammates of his has worn. This boy's gear is positively normal by comparison.

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Birthday starter for @defectivexfragmented's Matt, because Remy had Ideas™ >w>

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He'd at least given Matt warning. Admittedly not much; just a vague text letting him know to expect a surprise when he got home that night, but warning nonetheless. Remy himself wasn't due back in town for another day or two, theoretically, but he'd managed to get his latest job done faster than he'd thought so the timing worked out perfectly.

Letting himself into Matt's apartment was not hard; Remy had bested security on par wth Stark Industries before, so anything Matt might have was hardly going to prove too much of a problem for him. He'd come prepared, his belt replaced with a ribbon of fine silk velvet - burgundy, not that Matt would be able to see that - with matching bands running over his shoulders like suspenders leading down to the charcoal grey silk slacks he'd chosen for the evening. He'd foregone a shirt entirely, though he'd kept his long coat. Matt had never seemed to mind the scent of leather it held, and it served nicely as part of the gift wrapping Remy had prepared in any case.

He'd also chosen the cologne Matt had seemed to favor, handily also Remy's own favorite; a warm, slightly smoky fragrance by Jo Malone with notes of leather, vetiver, and juniper. A light spray was enough; he wanted to hint, not broadcast. Setting up birthday surprises wasn't anything new for Remy, but this was his first time doing so for a blind man…while scent and touch usually factored into his plans to some degree, he'd always placed far more emphasis on sight. Planning this had been an exercise in bringing other senses to the fore.

Now all he had to do was wait, Matt's secondary present already set out on the coffee table and waiting to be opened in celebration. There was no way Remy was going to be opening a bottle of 72-year-old Scotch without its intended recipient actually present, after all.

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@defectivexfragmented [x]

Was it Saturday…? Remy chuckled softly. He'd only just gotten back in town yesterday after a bit of a whirlwind trip over the past week that had involved four separate countries and maybe eight separate time-zones, which meant things had gotten a little blurry regarding which day of the week it was. But that was good, it being Saurday; it meant Matt wasn't actually in any rush, which in turn meant Remy didn't have to feel even a little guilty about distracting him right now.

He smiled into the kisses Matt gave him, reaching up with his free hand to brush his thumb along Matt's cheekbone. With the shift in their relationship - namely, its becoming an actual relationship - Remy had stopped shying away from the softer, fonder demonstrations of affection. "Orderin' in sounds good t'me." His soft smile was audible as he gave Matt's hand a gentle squeeze. "It's been a while since we had time f'just us." He pressed another kiss into Matt's palm. "Missed you, chér."

Then he grinned, warm and fond. "An' I guess it's high time I made space in de closet f'you some extra clothes, hein? Can't have de esteemed Matthew Murdock, Esquire, runnin' around in yesterday's suit, now can we? No matter how good he looks in it," he added, unable to resist a little gentle teasing.

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13. for one muse to distract the other from getting ready by kissing/groping them (Remy, Matt)

[Morning After starters]

Remy had been quite enjoying a bit of a lazy morning, dozing comfortably beside Matt with nowhere to be for a while. Unfortunately, having a bedmate with a legitimate day job meant losing his cuddle buddy when Matt had to get up. Not that Remy could complain too much, given the view he had, but still.

With a faint, mischievous grin Remy sat up enough to catch Matt's hand as he passed by barely half-dressed. Lifting it, he pressed a kiss first to the back of it, then to the inside of Matt's wrist, pulling back just enough for his lips to brush over Matt's skin as he spoke. "Lookit who's gettin' all fancy dis mornin'…got a court case t'day?"

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@arobinwithoutbatman [x]

"New York? Dang. Been here plenty of times. I'll make it to New Orleans some day." Probably not until he was at least twenty one if his siblings had their way. Well... Dick and Babs anyway... Jason would probably encourage him as long as he could tag along too. And he was recognised! Huh. He'd never really stopped to think about how he and the others were perceived outside of Gotham. Sure San Francisco got used to him and Young Justice but the city had never really been theirs, it was just where Titans Tower ended up being. And of course there were the cities protected by the Flashes and Supers. New York had that other team that people liked to pit against the Justice League. Avengers, wasn't it? They did good work. He wasn't so sure he liked the idea of not having a secret identity... "You're right, though, only one state over. Could've been way worse." His curiosity was caught again by those very striking eyes. Black with red irises. "I'm... not sure how to feel or react to being recognised." Maybe he should be paying a little more attention to major goings on outside of Gotham City and New Jersey in general now that the city had stopped trying to implode on itself every five seconds.

"She a good city." Remy smiled, faint and nostalgic. One day he might get to go home, but not any time soon. Not until his exile was lifted, which might be never as far as he knew.

For now, he had a junior superhero - well, vigilante - sitting in his living room after what Remy could only assume was a teleporter accident. Which was interesting, given he hadn't thought anyone in Gotham had a teleporter to begin with. "Well, if y'worried 'bout folk outside'a Gotham knowin' ya well enough t'recognize ya, don't be," he assured the kid with a laugh. "I done enough travelin' through y'city t'at least know of ya. Might never'a seen ya b'fore, but heard plenty a folk describin' ya." Remy smirked at him. "Y'gotta admit, y'kinda stand out, non?"

He pushed himself up then, starting for the kitchen area of his loft. "But 'scuse my manners, y'want a drink? Got soda, 'r water if y'prefer." He paused, hand on the refrigerator door, and flashed another grin at Robin. "An' my name's Remy, if y'curious. Remy Lebeau." Though whether Robin would put together his eyes and his name with the master thief - and sometime-hero - Gambit Remy didn't know. If he did…well, Remy was hardly doing anything illegal at the moment, in his own apartment with a cocktail and a book.

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Remy, how would you feel if Dick started dating your boyfriend (since the title matters)?

[Send the boys unhinged anons || always accepting tbh]

"If Matt's honest 'bout wantin' another partner, I don' mind. Some folk jus' built like that. Long as there's clear communication on all fronts, ev'ryone know where dey stand, ain't nothin' wrong with it. Now, from what I know of 'im I doubt he is, so somethin' like this happenin' ain't like my alleycat at all. So I ain't too concerned about it."