The mansion was in a rare state the night before Christmas, one that Remy could never quite get used to. That is, it was quiet. And not just quiet, but practically silent. Everyone was silent—most of the occupants of the Xavier Institute were snuggled in the warmth of their beds. Remy was not. Instead, he sat silently in the library—unmoving, hardly breathing—listening to the only noise in the house. There was the constant tick tock of the clocks throughout the mansion, all in unison.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
Rogue was lying awake in her bed, intently studying the ceiling. She kept glancing over at the bed across the room, expecting to find it occupied. But it wasn't. Like most everyone who had a family, Kitty had gone home. Kurt had gone home to visit his adoptive parents, and Jean had taken Scott home to the meet her family for Christmas. She was one of the few that students staying behind. Logan, Beast, and Professor Xavier remained to supervise—not that they had any family to go home to, either.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
The ticking was slightly maddening, making each waking second seem like minutes. Every hour on the hour, the clock chimed—telling her exactly how much longer she was supposed to stay in bed. The longer she lay there, the more obvious it became to her that she couldn't continue to do so. She was full of pent-up energy and restless to let it out. She was still riding the high that came after each training session, and she couldn't just shut all that down and go to sleep. Especially given her results.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
As quietly as possible, she climbed out of bed and pulled on her nightgown. She knew that Logan wasn't doing his nightly patrols because there were so few students left, so it was easy to make her way to the library without making a sound. When she pushed open the thick, intricately carved oak doors, they creaked. The sound seemed deafening, and immediately she began looking around to see if she had awoken anyone, before realizing how impossible that was.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
Remy was sitting in a chair next to the window seat, just as she had known he would be. Even though it was dark, she knew he was grinning from ear to ear—the same grin that the always wore when she came to meet him there. It was sly but inviting, arrogant but charming, sexy and sweet all at the same time. Perhaps because she knew it was the grin that was reserved especially for her.
Tick-tock, Tick-tock, tick…
"It's 'bout time 'y got here, chere," he said, though his voice told her that he wasn't impatient. He had learned patience willingly—it was the only way to have her—because otherwise, he would have been dead. He learned that he couldn't touch her whenever her wanted, that the faintest brush of his lips against hers was going to have to be enough, that silk and satin and lace were luxuries his Rogue deserved—and ones he was happy to provide. But more than anything, he knew he had a Southern belle that couldn't be treated like his other throw-away women—all of which had been thrown away the minute he met her.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
"Ah got held up by the ghost of Christmas past out in the hallway," she answered lightly. She stood before him, unsure of what to do. Sit in his lap or take another chair? Remy made the decision for her when he patted his lap with a gloved hand. She smiled and slid into his arms. The touch—though not the skin-on-skin she longed for—was a relief. It was a welcome change from being avoided like the plague the way that most people did.
"Christmas past, huh? What did 'dat ol' ghostie show 'y, cherie?"
Tick-tock, Tick-tock, tick…
"Christmases with Irene. But since Ah know what Ah do, Ah guess it's not quite the same thinkin' about it now. Ah know she only gave meh presents because she was tryin' to make me lahke her. She didn't care about meh…"
"Well, 'y not wid' Irene anymore. 'Y here, wid' 'de X-men, and Remy, and t'ings are different now," he said, comfortingly running his gloved fingers through her hair. "Ah know what 'y mean. Jean-Luc only kept meh 'round because of mah powers, but he did get gen'rous at Christmas. Remy knew why Jean-Luc kept him 'round, but on Christmas, it didn't matter. Ah ignored it."
Tick-tock, Tick-tock, tick…
"Can yah here the clock, Remy?" she asked, closing her eyes and taking it all in.
"Yeah. Why?"
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
"Those are the seconds of mah lahfe…and yahrs…just tickin' away. Seconds we'll never get back. It makes meh think…"
"T'ink 'bout what, chere?"
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
"Ah want good Christmas mem'ries. Ah gotta replace the bad with the good. Ah don't have tahme tah sit here and do nothin'. Ah've gotta make my good mem'ries…" Rogue trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence or how to explain the thoughts racing through her brain.
"Well, we've had a few," Remy said with a chuckle. He wasn't wrong about that. She thought of the first time they stayed the night together. They couldn't make love, but it didn't matter. They had expressed their love in a way that worked for them. She thought of the time Jean and Scott had caught them in a moment of passion in the kitchen. The time that she had held him while he cried, only to have him turn around and do the same for her. Yes, they had many, many good memories together.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
"And more to come," she whispered as she shifted in his arms. She studied him for a moment, and knew that he was bracing himself for the energy drain that would come with even the faintest of kisses. But he wanted her to kiss him. It was obvious on his face, in the way that he wrapped his arms around her and was pulling her closer, in the permissive nod of his head.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
She leaned in slowly and pressed her lips to his. She hadn't meant for the kiss to be any more than that, but it was as if she had lost control of her body. Her arms wrapped around his neck of their own accord. Her lips parted for him, and somehow she was straddling him—pressing as close as she could to him, always wanting to be closer.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
He pulled away breathless, his eyes asking the question. The sensation that he had become so familiar with—far too familiar with—had never come. The draining that would have made such a kiss fatal hadn't happened for the first time ever.
"Ah did it, Remy. Ah've got it," she whispered to him. She could see the delight spread across his face as he smiled. It wasn't a grin, but a genuine smile. And it wasn't just because he no longer had to worry about death and drainage, but it was also because she was happy.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…
"Control? 'Y got control? Ah shouldn't be surprised…Remy knew 'y'd get it one day." She responded by kissing him again, this time more passionate than the last. This one only ended because they both needed to breathe. For some time—neither one was really sure just how long it went on—they studied each other. For the first time, he cupped her cheek in his palm without gloves. For the first time, she felt his stubble with her bare hands. They traced each other's features, as if committing them to memory.
"Ah wanted 'y tah know…now that we don't hafta worry about meh killin' yah, we could…" She found herself blushing and unable to finish her sentence. She gasped as Remy picked her up and carried her to the window seat, fully expecting him to take her up on her offer. Instead, he lay down beside her and held her against him. He didn't worry about skin to skin contact, and it was both a relief and a joy for them both.
"As much as Remy wants tah…maybe later, chere. Remy's enjoyin' 'dis too much." He kissed her knuckles lightly. "Remy…loves 'y."
"Ah love yah," Rogue murmured simultaneously. He grinned and kissed her forehead. Yes, she was making good Christmas memories, and this would be the first of many. Many kisses, many embraces, many Christmases with Remy. "Merry Christmas, Remy."
"Merry Christmas, chere."
A/N: So, there's just a little piece of Christmas fluff for you. I hope you enjoyed it, and have a merry Christmas!!!