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They were arguing again. The rest of the room had cleared out earlier. Even Logan, the last to leave, had given up on them. It was probably the best decision the Avengers and the X-Men had made together all day, and they didn’t even have to vote on it.
Remy couldn’t even remember what started it this time. Hell, if he was being honest, he lost track of where the argument was sometime around that pointed look Logan had shot him before firmly closing the door behind him. Logan might as well have thrown his hands up in the air, yelled something expletive-filled in exasperation, and slammed the door. Maybe that mental image is what distracted Remy in the first place. Huh.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m sorry, go ahead. Repeat that last dig at my skewed moral compass again for me, please.”
Pietro looked ready to break something. Judging by the décor in this particularly well-furnished room of the Avengers’ mansion (the fact that Remy had to distinguish between super hero mansions in his head led to bad sticky-fingered ideas that he couldn’t allow himself to explore at the moment), Remy easily estimated that his face was by far the cheapest option. At least Pietro had stopped pacing and wearing down that very tasteful imported rug.
“What? No? Damn, I had a great comeback for that one,” Remy stepped closer, his voice low and taunting when he next spoke, “It involved poor little compasses and certain people’s relatives.”
Remy knew better, he really did, but it really was too easy with Pietro. He knew it didn’t take much either, that Pietro would understand the barest hint immediately since he practically looked for any excuse to blow up about his family. Pietro had a very big red button with so many warning signs that it demanded to be pressed repeatedly, if possible.
Remy jumped back from the first swing with a smirk, his mouth moving as swiftly as his body.
“When was the last time you saw your dear old pops, anyway? Did he try to kill you, or--“
From his new horizontal position on the ground, Remy had the gall to laugh. Pietro stood scowling over him until Remy swept his legs out from under him, which in turn caused Pietro to tackle Remy and pin him flat on his back.
“At least my father hasn’t tried to steal my girlfriend,” he hissed. “I could joke too, just so you know -- about thieves and magnetic charm -- but I think the cheesiness would make me sick.”
Remy found a little leverage and pushed Pietro off of him and rolled away. They sat on the lush imported rug, squatting and sprawled, glaring at each other and yet sporting slightly upturned corners to their lips.
“That was more corny than cheesy, by the way, and I didn’t think it was possible for you to joke. Deprecate, yes, but not joke.”
“Then I guess we’re even, because I didn’t know you could use words like ‘deprecate’ correctly,” Pietro replied, the tilt to his head both condescending and practical as the loosened hair on one side shifted away from that eye.
“See? Case in point,” Remy said with an arm motion, “You gotta give a guy some credit.”
Pietro shrugged coolly. “No, I really don’t.”
“Don’t make me bring up ton père again,” Remy warned with feigned heat.
“You mean the old man you’re in a love triangle with for Rogue?” Pietro made a face and shook his head. “I still don’t understand that.”
Remy not so much scratched as scrubbed the back of his head, mussing his hair further. “Eh, it’s complicated... And who am I to judge complicated, non?” he said, laughing.
After a beat, Remy looked over to find that all traces of humor had disappeared from Pietro’s face and that his gaze was locked onto Remy’s eyes.
“Do you want to make it more complicated?”
Before Remy could finish his answer (Pietro really was impatient about everything), he found himself pinned down to the floor again and being soundly kissed.
Not long after, from the other side of the closed (and locked -- Pietro had seen to it in the blink of an eye) door, Remy could hear Logan’s muffled yet unmistakable voice.
“Trust me, Cap. You don’t wanna go in there.”
Pietro must have heard it, too, because he chose that moment to unleash a threefold attack that left Remy moaning and writhing and wondering why they’d wasted all of that time arguing. Remy’s retaliation drew a gasp and a growl out of Pietro as they both decided (without a vote or even words per se) that riling each other up with this type of vehemence was a constructive breakthrough that their teams could (maybe) appreciate.