I luv Kimys (Kitty/Remy) and I always wanted 2 write one so here goes! Hope u like! Please R&R.
I obviously don't own Xmen.
Chapter 1 – Change?
Kitty always had a nagging feeling that life was lukewarm, she was an average girl with average looks and a very average boyfriend. Well, apart from the mutants saving the world thing, her life was pretty boring, wasn't it? However, right now was not the time for such thoughts, she had to focus all of her energy on pretending to care about whatever Lance was saying.
"Were you listening Pretty-Kitty?" he demanded arrogantly,
"I said that my jeep isn't working so well, so I'm going to let Remy to take you home tonight."
Kitty could tell from his tone that this was not Lance's first choice, as he did get jealous very easily. They had been hanging around the brotherhood's dump of a house, much to Kitty disgust, for most of their "date". However lately Kitty had found Lance pretty monotonous. But who was Remy? She thought she had heard of him before. She gave Lance a puzzled look as he led her towards a motorbike,
"You know?" he said
"Gambit? Red-on-black eyes, throws cards that blow up . . ."
"Oh yeah!" Kitty exclaimed, remembering the Cajun. As they reached a handsome figure in a trench coat whom Kitty assumed to be Remy, Lance began to pull her into a kiss. Responding half-heartedly Kitty then pulled away, giving Lance a half hug and hopping on behind Remy on the motorbike. In her three-quarter length trousers the bike felt cold against her thin legs, and she was sure that the wind would make her even more cold! Her thin pink top wouldn't help.
"Bonjour to you too petite, have my helmet."
Remy popped his helmet over Kitty's head, before turning to rev the engine, half drowning out Lance as he yelled at the Cajun,
"Look after her, will you? You'd better be careful Gambit, and I don't want you hitting on her like you do every other girl who comes within a miles radius of you OK?"
Remy gave Lance a mock innocent look, before turning to Kitty, who, he observed complacently, was quite pretty,
"Moi? Remy would not dream of it, would he chere?" He took Kitty's hand and kissed it, winking at her, before turning to Lance and grinning at him and saying "Au revoir" before quickly speeding off, causing Kitty to jerk forwards and grab hold of Remy's waist. Lance viewed all of this with growing anger, and before they had left the driveway Kitty could feel his tremors shaking their path. Why did he always have to be so protective and get so jealous? Kitty was tired of everyone treating her like a child. Or worse: a bimbo. As she was neither she got very tired of playing the role of both. Why couldn't she just be herself?
As these thoughts troubled Kitty, she had been speeding home and before long they reached the institute. Dismounting the bike Kitty turned to thank Remy, who, she happened to notice, was extremely good looking.
"No need to thank Remy petite," he quickly interjected,
"Remy's jus glad t'be of service!"
Kitty had no chance to recover her breath that she had lost when he held eye contact with her for momentarily longer than what is usual, when with a slight wink and a smirk he donned the helmet that she had handed him back and sped up the road. Kitty failed to notice the similarity between Lance and Remy – the arrogance that edged the tone that they spoke to her with.
Kitty had spent quite a while during the rest of that day thinking about her rebellious feelings: she no longer wanted to be average- she wanted to change, but only to show who she really was, not for anyone else. Just for her. She no longer wanted to be a child. She wanted responsibility. She wanted to be seen as an equal. She wanted to make her own decisions. She no longer wanted to be seen as a bimbo: being compared to Jean was almost more than she could take – not that there was anything wrong with Jean, really. But she didn't want to wear pink every day. She didn't want people to laugh at her saying "like" and pointing out that they could tell when she was being serious – when she hadn't said "like" for at least three words. She would ask Rogue, her friend and roommate, to help her decide what to do when she came to bed, which would, judging by the time, presumably be soon. As if on queue Rogue, at that moment walked through the door, and smiling at Kitty asked,
"Hey! How was yer date sugah?"
Thinking about the answer to that question she realised what it was: boring. And that was surely not the answer she wanted to give on a regular basis? So Kitty thought about it – she would find a way, with Rogue, to right this. And change, she decided, was what she had to do.