AN: *Looks around* Whoa, it's been a while huh kids? I haven't dipped into the X-Men Evo realm in quite some time, though I have read a few from time to time. Please enjoy this, and go easy on me, it has truly been some time since I've used accents or have even delved into our favorite mutants psyches. Bear with me.

*Side note* All grammar, spelling mistakes, or odd sayings are my fault. Don't Judge.

Disclaimer: Even after all these years of love to the Marvel characters, I own nothing.

Summary: Due to the fact I've been in love with New Orleans for ever, and have only just recently learned that Mardi Gras is a true holiday down there, I thought I'd write a one-shot dedicated to the biggest party in the USA. They have the day off to celebrate so I thought I'd play on Gambit's fondness for his place of birth while being in the Xavier Institute and away from the celebrations. Just keep in mind that this takes place a good two years after Ascension. And most of the changes Professor Xavier saw from Apocalypse haven't quite happened yet. You'll see.

The sigh was light in the quiet afternoon in the Institute's main living room. The sun had lowered in the sky, with bright oranges, red and yellows bathing the snow covered lawn in golden patterns. The red on black eyes blinked once as the brightness caught them the wrong way and tears began to form of their own accord.

Hurriedly he gripped his nose and grappled in vain within his trench coat pockets for his dark shades to shield his eyes. Once on, another sigh floated across the room and he visibly relaxed against the window sill as he continued to look out on the Institute grounds.

A small snowball fight had broken out in the far left of the lawn with the new mutants about an hour earlier. It had begun innocently enough with snowballs but soon after Bobby had used ice balls 'accidentally' and Amara had used fire balls 'accidentally' because Bobby had used his powers, and then all hell had broken loose. Remy rolled his covered eyes as Cannonball flew across the windows, dancing fireworks and electricity closing at his heels.

He shrugged. It was entertaining watching the younger kids play and it certainly was amusing watching Stormy and Hank try to corral the youngsters but he couldn't help the pang in his chest. If he was home, back in N'awlins with the damp swamp air and humid tropic weather, he'd be enjoying the streets and the millions of people crowded in them. Glancing at the far clock over the mantel he sighed again. It was Mardi Gras back home and he was missing it something fierce.

"Eh c'est la vie," he mumbled, his words muffled into his high collar as he pulled it closer to his neck. He couldn't find fault in his new surroundings. He was welcomed among the X-Men, although at one point had been an enemy, and had found a place he didn't have to worry about being woken up in the dark of night to steal a priceless artifact from the Assassins' stronghold. He didn't have to worry about mutants being the superior race. He didn't have to worry about crazy ex-femmes that wanted him dead either.

Dropping his eyes from the sky, he watched as the Southern Belle herself shuffled through the snow covered walkway toward the main door. He could see poofs of black smog following in her wake and felt a slow smirk cover his face. Well he still had to worry about some crazy femme killing him, but it was more his own fault than her being crazy. He saw her backhand Kurt but he bamphed out of her reach with seconds to spare.

He let his mind dwell on Rogue as she walked up the stairs; her tight black jeans nestled around her gorgeous curves and her dark auburn hair falling just a little further down her shoulders, with a spark of white catching the sun just right. Her light purple jacket and yellow scarf did nothing to hide away her dark makeup and he whistled in appreciation. Time had been good to Rogue and Gambit did nothing to hide the leer in his eyes.

Slowly she disappeared behind the glass doors and Remy turned his attention back to the snowy path she had left behind. There wouldn't be snow back home, or the biting cold of winter. He'd be pleasantly content outside, with a small trek of sweat covering his back. Slumping further against the window, he felt himself scowl. He could be out, on Bourbon street, on Canal Street, even Main street and see more action than there was outside the window in front of him.

A flaming ball of ice smacked the wall next to where he laid. Slowly he looked at the scorched marks and then across the way to Amara and Bobby's apologetic faces. Well maybe not more action, but he'd have a stiff drink in his hand and a few wallets within grasping range. His fingers twitched as he thought of the possibilities and longed for the jasmine smelling perfume of the French quarter and the tang of bourbon on his tongue. Dieu he missed home.

Disgusted he pushed off the wall and walked to the door entrance. He didn't want to feel homesick for a city with people in it that didn't seem to care that he was gone. He didn't need them; but boy did he need to see those sparkling lights and see that parade pass in style. His heart yearned for it.

He heard a crash before seeing Sam rubbing his head and Ray pointing and laughing at his friend heartedly. A giant dent into the wall beside the stairwell looked ugly in the grand entrance. He could see Kurt and Kitty standing in the doorway of the study, books in hand with Piotr hunching over them to see what the fuss was about. He couldn't say he wasn't happy at the mansion but it sure as hell wasn't N'awlins during Mardi Gras season.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A husky voice drawled from his left. Turning just slightly, he smirked hiding away his miserable thoughts. He was best behind a mask and he didn't need anyone taking pity on him for missing his hometown.

"M'thoughts ain't worth that much chere," he said lightly, shuffling hands into his pockets. It was a nervous tick, he would grab for his cards when he didn't want to think. The shuffling of cards, flipping through the air would calm him; it must have been a tick Jean Luc had instilled in him to become calm in a poker setting. He had won huge earnings during those things for him.

"Oh Ah Know that," she brushed off lightly. He raised an eyebrow as she leaned opposite of him in the doorway of the living room. She began to peel off her scarf, her green eyes clouded away behind thick black eye liner.

It was strange to see her so friendly toward him. They hadn't been on great terms before, when they had been enemies, but when he had showed up on the Institute's doorstep, she had all but drained him dry when he announced his stay. It wasn't to say they didn't get along, but had a certain game. Remy would push her, and she'd dig her heels into the dirt so as not to give up any ground, and it would cause friction. Remy enjoyed their game, and he knew somewhere that Rogue did too; she would never admit to it though.

Her coat fell to the far chair as she crossed her arms over her chest. He took in a quick look, noticing the dark green sweater covered her from the top of her neck to her mid thigh. Black jeans finished it with her signature combat boots. He appreciated the glance and turned back to the foyer before he could be caught.

Their game was easy and safe. She wouldn't give in to him, and he wasn't going to give in to her. At least he thought he wasn't; but that was a train of thought for another time.

"What's wrong with ya'?" She asked again, her ability to be discreet showing. Gambit flashed a small wry smile before shrugging.

"Nuthin'." She 'hmph'ed and looked across the way as Kitty giggled up at Piotr. Gambit had known the tin man had a crush on the younger girl and the way Kitty blushed answered his silent question of her own affections. Kurt rolled his eyes and gestured to the pair as Rogue barked out a sharp laugh before coughing it away.

"Don't seem like nothin's wrong Swamp Rat."

"What's it to ya' River Rat?" He shot back. He was feeling edgy and anxious and did not like her third degree questioning. He didn't have to answer to her.

Her dark eyes narrowed and her black lips pursed into a frown. He would never admit it out loud but he loved to piss her off just to see the way her eyes would light up and her lips pucker. "Try to give an olive branch and ya' get shit on." She mused darkly.

They stood in silence for a few moments longer before Hank and Ororo rushed into the foyer, dropping Amara, Jubliee and Bobby on to the floor in a heap of limbs and winter clothing by way of a small tornado courtesy of Storm.

"That is enough outdoor activities for one night," Storm declared and flipped her hair over her shoulder in agitation. "Now, get cleaned up for dinner. Move." She pointed to the stairs and with a chorus of groans the kids took off for the bathrooms. Storm was not one to trifle with and Remy had found that out the hard way his first day at the Institute.

"Ah a teacher's work is never done," Dr. McCoy remarked as he turned to go into the kitchen, with Storm following him closely. Gambit shook his head, thoughts lost once more before a sharp jab poked him in the shoulder.

"Hey!"

"What's eatin' ya'?"

"Lay off it chere," he muttered, pulling into his coat deeper. He took one step out into the foyer and grabbed a pair of keys off the end table. Whose keys was anybody's guess but he had to get out, he had to do something, anything really to stop thinking of home, to stop missing it so much. He waved behind him as he pushed against the sting of the winter air; which in turn made him think of N'awlins and its' warm drafts.

He took long strides to the garage, finally looking at the keys and smirking. It was Wolverine's bike that glistened from under the harsh florescent lights and his smirk grew. He did have his own bike but it made the man have kittens when Gambit took his bike out on the streets; but Logan barely batted an eyelash when Rogue stole it for nightly runs.

Shrugging at the old man's adoration of the Southern Belle, he revved the engine and sat for a moment listening. Logan took care of the bike; he could hear it clearly as it rumbled between his jeans clad legs. It felt like power and he revved it again. He could get lost in the sounds.

"Yah suicidal aren't ya Cajun?" Rogue said from behind him. Had he been too comfortable in the Institute to let his skills go to waste? He hadn't heard her coming, and the girl stomped around in her heavy clad boots like an elephant in the Sahara.

"Do y'find the need to follow me around impossible to ignore Roguey or are y'doing it just to annoy me?"

Snorting delicately, Rogue swayed her hips to the bike and sat on the back of it without question. At one raised eyebrow from Gambit she shrugged. "Honestly? Ah don't want to keep followin' ya' around, but yah leavin' me without a choice here Gambit."

"And why's that Cherie?"

She jerked her finger to his shades. "You're lookin' like a man whose gonna do something stupid. And Ah can't have ya' bringing the X-Men down by being a dumbass on the streets." Shuffling she sighed again, crossing her arms tightly. Her knuckled pulled tight in the leather restraints she wore. "Now ya' can either tell me what's goin' on with ya', or Ah can follow you around until ya' get so annoy you spill."

Gambit knew she was stubborn but he held a lot more patience than Rogue did. He could hold out against her following him around all over Bayville, and he could handle her questions. She knew this too. What struck him was that she wanted to know what was going on with him so badly, that she'd give up her night of solitude to follow him and annoy him into talking to her.

If they had been friends, he would have smiled. But he knew better. They had a game. He'd push and she's dig in her heels to fight him every step of the way. But now she was turning the tables on him, pushing him out of a comfort zone. Did he want to dig in his heels, or did he want to throw her for a loop?

"It's Mardi Gras Rogue." He whispered, letting his voice fall a few octaves lower. She'd hear him anyway. They were close enough that her body heat was like a fire pit in the cold garage. The heat from the bike barely did anything for him.

She frowned, her brow wrinkling. She wasn't getting it. "So?"

He looked back at her, his sunglasses falling down his nose just enough for his eyes to reach her. She cocked her head and like a tidal wave crashing on to the beach, realization dawned on Rogue's face. "Oh."

"Oui. Oh."

"Yah missing home aren't ya?"

"Non," he lied through his clenched teeth. He didn't miss 'home', or the people in that monster of a house that the Thieves lived in. He missed the city streets he learned to love growing up. He missed the smells of flower boxes above in the iron wrought balconies. He missed the strong perfume of women too drunk to notice a small hand slipping into their open pursues. He missed the city. Not home.

"Yeah ya' do Swamp Rat," she pointed out. The look sent to her was murderous at best, but a death glare didn't affect Rogue like it would some people. He pushed his sunglasses back up. "If ya' miss it so much, than go home for a few days."

"I don't miss m'home Roguey," he began rubbing the back of his head in annoyance. Maybe he didn't have the patience he thought he had. He knew the Institute was making him soft. "I miss…" he trailed off. How could he explain this to a River Rat who had lived in New York longer than he had? She probably couldn't distinguish the smell of the Mississippi from the sludge of the Hudson.

"Ah know Cajun," she mumbled lightly. He turned back, shock plastering on his lean face before he could pull back his mask. She shrugged, a faint pink blush dusting her cheekbones. Maybe she did remember life before the X-Men after all. "Ya' get so used to a place, used ta the sounds and smells and when ya' leave it, it doesn't quite hit ya' until yah seven years older and somethin' sparks ya' memories again." Clearing her throat she jerked her head toward the mansion.

"Ah'm not saying I remember everything from Mississippi, nor wanna but sometimes when the heat's unbearable and ya' hear birds singing, Ah almost feel like I should smell wildflowers in the air. Like back home on days like that. Or in yah case, smell stale alcohol on the day of Mardi Gras."

Nodding, Remy sighed. She had gotten it in one, and he had thought she couldn't tell the Hudson from the glorious river back home. Maybe he was the one that needed to remember better. "But Ah also learned," she continued, chewing the bottom of her lip, the black wearing off slightly. "Ah learned that home isn't where ya' grew up. It's where yah loved and appreciated. And that's right here." The pointing was for emphasis but it was cute all the same to Remy.

"Hmm." He agreed. They let a few more moments of silence pass, the cold unaffecting them as they thought on their past and where they were now. Glancing over at her, Remy couldn't resist the next jab. "So does this mean we're friends Roguey? You did come all the way out here to talk to this Godforsaken Cajun and make him feel better oui?"

"Shove it Gambit," she snorted and hopped from the bike. "Ah'm just being a good fellow X-Men, not some girl swooning over yah egotistical ass."

"You noticed m'ass chere?"

He was met with a finger in the air, as she walked back to the mansion, her shoulders hunched against the cold wind. He chuckled to himself, feeling the cold finally touch his body. He might be at a home now, but it sure as hell wasn't Mardi Gras.

Hours later, Remy had showered to get the last bit of cold off of him, into a pair of clean jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. He threw on his trench coat, making sure his cards were where he left them. Call him old fashion, but he didn't feel comfortable without a weapon on him. Even if he was home.

Slowly Remy made his way to the dining hall. He could hear cries and shouts of glee and some yells of anger. He could hear a distinctly southern voice and he smirked without knowing why. Maybe they had broken down a barrier between them… and then he heard a crash and a ring of curses following in the lilt. Raising an eyebrow, he shrugged. Probably not.

The door opened and the room became eerily silent, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He instinctively reached for his cards in his pockets but a pair of small hands wrapping around his forearm stopped him. The room was dark and he felt the tingle in his fingers accelerate. He didn't like feeling trapped or on edge.

"Surprise!" The room chorused and the lights blared to life, momentarily blinding Remy into a slight daze. He crashed into the swinging door with a spike of pain shooting up his spine. He had forgotten his sunglasses upstairs. Blinking back white spots, he looked to his side to see Kitty holding his arm tightly.

"Alright pet'te, what's goin' on here?" He glanced across the room and saw Rogue standing by a back corner, arms crossed over her chest and small smile on her pale face. She looked positively smug. He knew something was up.

The other students began to crowd around them, some with green masks, others with purple or yellow, or mix matching the three colors. A few plastic bead necklaces fell around his neck and a glass that smelled like the sweet bourbon he had been wanting wafted up to him. Kitty pulled tighter on him to lead him over to the table.

"Well Rogue told us that you were missing home," she began dragging him to the head of the table. Cornbread, a huge pot of Cajun Gumbo and red beans and rice sat before him, smelling so rich his mouth began to drool. Storm and Hank began bringing in more delicious smelling food, as Jean and Scott followed with more trinkets. "So like we put our heads together, and thought we could bring Mardi Gras to you."

"Ja man," Kurt agreed, his tail swooshing behind him. He placed a plate in front of Remy. "It might not be as good as the real thing, but it is close enough."

The students began to take their seats as the Professor and Logan entered the dining room. He saw Rogue slink into her chair next to him and he couldn't help the jab. He kicked her gently to get her attention. Her scowl was dark but her eyes wouldn't stop laughing no matter how much make up she threw on her heart shaped face. She was enjoying this.

"Y' did this for me eh?"

Rogue shrugged, grabbing her napkin and placing it on her lap. Her demure was uncanny and Remy laughed outright. Reaching for one of the platters of cornbread, he passed it to her while taking two. "Didn't know y'cared so much cherie."

"Ah don't Swamp Rat," her lips wouldn't stay downturned for long. "It was just sweet revenge telling Kitty that yah was homesick and she should find somethin' ta make ya' feel more at home."

The smile was pure wickedness and Remy licked his lips as she watched her turn back to the festivities around them. Everyone had joined in on the fun, with the older students and teachers enjoying an alcoholic beverage and the younger ones drinking their own virgin coactions. Gambit noticed Rogue's glass of water and shook his head at the fun of it all. Even Logan had cracked open a beer, and was wearing a necklace of beer mugs dangling down his hairy chest.

Remy leaned back and studied his own beads. It sure wasn't N'awlins, with the dense heat, the sweet flower blooming scents or the crowds of obnoxious people. But it was New York in February, with snow on the ground, fireplaces burning in every room and friends to make you feel a part of the family. And family was better than a city with a parade route and drunken gals any day.

Well…most days.

Sighing, Remy bit into the cornbread and melted to the flavor as Kurt and Kitty began to dance on the table to a loud jazz song that even he didn't know. Yeah, Rogue had been right. Home was where people cared about you; and he was there.

AN: So it's short, and not very Romy-ness, but close. I thought it'd be cute and it just spoke to me to write out. And yes Mardi Gras was last Tuesday. You can't rush perfection. Let me know how a returning authoress did hm?

Peace