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Author's Note: I don't own Samsung, so please don't sue. ALSO- this follows immediately after their break up.
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Remy awoke at four o’clock in the morning to furious banging on his apartment door. Marie, his bedfellow, jerked awake at the sound. “There’s someone at your door,” she whispered, fear laced in her words.

For a moment, Remy contemplated calling 911, but if it was someone coming to collect on a debt, he had his own security: His sweet nine piece. And then the banging sounded like plaintive wailing. Remy was slightly confused, but he knew the voice and considering the time and who he was with Remy just couldn’t leave Logan outside like that. “It’s alright, petite. It’s just Logan.”

“Why the hell is he bangin’ on your door at this tahme of night?” she asked, watching Remy get dressed in sweatpants and a workout shirt.

“Dunno.” He kissed her forehead. “Go back t’ sleep.” He walked to his front, checked the peephole-- habits, y’know?-- and opened the door. Logan stumbled in, blind drunk and smelling like it, too. Remy prayed he didn’t drive here. “Logan, what the hell?”

“She left me!” he wailed, his face red from the alcohol.

Remy took a step back, having been hit in the face by the sour smell of everything Logan drank. He put a steadying hand on Logan’s shoulder and led the drunk man to sit on the couch. “Who left y’? Viper?”

Logan buried his head in hands and shook his head. “Ro! She-she fuckin’ left me,” he said, his shoulders shaking.

Of course. Had Viper left Logan, Remy was certain he wouldn’t hear from Logan for a week-- the man would probably spend every waking minute with his head or his dick buried between Ororo’s brown thighs-- but since Ro left Logan... Christ, Logan was in bad shape and it had probably only happened hours before. Hours, Remy speculated, because it took forever for Logan to get drunk. The man had incredible tolerance to alcohol.

“Lemme get y’ a beer,” Remy said, slightly uncomfortable with Logan’s uncommon display of emotion. Remy was supposed to be the emotional one; Logan was a total “man’s man.”

“I don’t need a beer, I need this to not be my life,” he sighed heavily.

“Lemme get y’ one anyways.” Remy moved to his kitchen and pulled out a beer, then the pack of cigarettes and lighter in one of his drawers. Remy handed Logan the beer and dropped down on his wooden coffee table, lighting himself a smoke. “So? What happened?” Remy asked.

Logan chugged the beer. When he finished, he sighed, enjoying the deeper haze of being drunk. “She said she were done. Said what we were doin’ was wrong.”

Remy sighed and looked at Logan. Remy had been friends with Logan for quite some time so he knew how lonely Logan truly was in his marriage. Viper lived up to her name, making Logan’s life a living hell. When Remy met Logan, the older man was depressed and henpecked. When Logan met Ororo-- and had her-- he was happier, brighter, and easier to be around. Remy couldn’t help but notice the change and asked about it. Because of their friendship, Logan told Remy the truth.

Logan was conflicted (at first) about having a mistress. He swore up and down that it wasn’t serious and he was just getting twelve years of pent up sexual frustration out of his system. But Remy knew: Logan was halfway in love with Ororo.

Remy couldn’t really say anything about what was going on between him, Viper, and Ororo-- Remy had cheated on his fair share of girlfriends-- but it was undeniably wrong. And for how wrong it was, Remy just knew it wasn’t going to end well, but he... kind of hoped it didn’t. Logan needed Ororo. Maybe having Ororo would finally give Logan the strength he’d lost all those years ago in his marriage to leave Viper.

And now he probably never would.

Ororo had ended things.

“It wasn’t s’posed to be like this,” Logan said lowly. “We weren’t s’posed to end.”

“And how were y’ ‘s’posed’ to be, Logan? Y’ still married t’ Viper.”

Logan shook his head. “We were supposed to be together. We weren’t s’posed ta end.” Logan’s phone began vibrating. Remy saw the hopeful look on his face be dashed when he saw who was really calling. “What, Viper?” he snapped.

“Don’t talk to me like that. Are you coming home or should I call the police for your drunken ass?”

“I wish ya would call the police on me, see how it looks on page 3.” Viper fell silent. “I’m fucking coming home. Don’t fucking call me again.” And with that, he threw his phone at Remy’s wall. The phone screen shattered upon impact and the battery popped out the back. There was a slim dent in Remy’s wall from where the phone hit.

“Merde, homme! What the fuck y’ do that fo’?” Remy shouted, standing up. “Look at my wall! Look at y’ phone!” Remy moved to the broken piece of plastic. A brand new Samsung, a gift from Viper.
“I’m sorry,” Logan apologized. “I’ll fix the fucking wall. I just--” Logan walked over to his phone and picked up the pieces. He put the battery back in and the screen slowly lit up. “I’ll go.”

“No,” Remy said, putting his fist to his hand. He had a massive headache coming on and smoking wasn’t making it go away. Fucking Logan: His problems were always fucking crazy. “I can’t let y’ drive home. Y’ too drunk. I’ll drive ya.”

“I can’t leave my truck here,” Logan argued.

“I--” Merde. Remy could always call a tow truck while he drove Logan, but the would require Marie having to tell the man where to take the truck. And he could stay here and have the tow truck person come first, but with how Logan was acting he didn’t want Marie to be further exposed. The only other option was having Marie drive Logan’s truck while Remy drove Logan. “Dammit, Logan,” Remy sighed as he walked back to his room.

When he opened the door, Marie was already dressed. “I need ta ask a favor of y’.”


When they got back home, Remy was exhausted. Viper yelled at both him and Logan-- Logan told Viper he was drinking with the guys. All Remy wanted to do was curl up beside Marie and try and get a few minutes of sleep before his eight o’clock alarm went off. This was such a shit night. His day would undoubtedly be affected.

Remy walked back to his bedroom and started pulling off his shirt. “Thanks, cherie, I--”

“You knew Logan was cheatin’ on his wife with Ororo,” Marie said loudly. “You knew and yah not only said nothin’ but yah helped him cheat, too.”

“Marie,” Remy started, “I never helped, per se--”

“You covered fer his sorry ass when Viper was askin’ questions,” she pointed out. “I jus’-- Ah can’t believe yah’d do somethin’ lahke that. Knowin’ about mah Momma and the thangs she did.” Marie shook her head violently. Her accent was thick, she knew, but it only ever got this thick when she was this angry. No... Angry was such a pitifully lacking word. Marie was irate. And disappointed. At Remy, at Logan, and most of all at Ororo. But she would deal with that on Monday. Now she was dealing with Remy.

“It wasn’t my place t’ tell, Marie.”

“Bull shit.” Marie furrowed her brows. “You’d keep something lahke this from me. And what’s worse is that yah’re giving me a sorry ass excuse to cover your tail. Ah cannot believe,” she repeated. She stopped abruptly and put up a hand. “Ah can’t be around you right now.”

“Why, petite?” Remy asked, grabbing Marie’s elbow. “What’s goin’ on between them ain’t what’s goin’ on wit’ us. Y’ mad, I can see, but we should talk about this. Like adult,” he reasoned. “I know what Logan and y’ friend are doin’ is wrong, but they’ve been together f’ a while-- merde!” That wasn’t the right thing to say. “Look, Marie, Logan needs Ro and y’ know how his wife is...”

Marie jerked her elbow from his grips. “Do NOT call me. Ah'm just... too disgusted with you tah hear from you.” She stormed towards his door. As she threw open the door, she paused, then looked back at him. “You're a dog, Remy Lebeau. A damn dog.”





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