I own nothing and no one
Okay, for those of you who have followed my plunnie poll, Phantom of a Thief won.
Evens or Odds did however come in second. So I decided to write this one-shot as sort of a consolation prize. Make everyone who voted for it feel better. Never fear though, I am sure my Sinister/Gambit story will be written, eventually.
Veritas
Scott almost sighed as he half dragged, half pulled Gambit down the hallway. It was times like this he hated being team leader. On their last mission the Cajun had caught some sort of dart in the arm. Preliminary investigation had shown the substance to be non-life threatening, and so they had succumbed to Remy's wishes not to go to the med bay.
In retrospect, that had been a mistake. It was true. The contents of the dart wouldn't kill Remy, but if he didn't get him away from the others, their comrades might. One of the many reasons Scott disliked the younger man was that Gambit didn't seem to take anything seriously. He was a charmer and a flirt. One thing the Cajun was not however, was a fool.
Unfortunately Remy seemed to have developed a bad case of foot in mouth disease. Whatever had been in that dart, probably some sort of truth serum, had lowered his verbal inhibitions to the point they were nonexistent. It was almost as if the Cajun were drunk, very drunk. Though now that he thought about it, Scott had never actually seen the other inebriated. Surprising considering just how much alcohol Gambit consumed on a regular basis.
Thus far the professional thief had managed to alienate almost everyone in the mansion. More than they already were. Scott acknowledged that Remy was far from the most popular member of the x-men, and that it wasn't entirely the other's fault. For a place that supposedly left people's pasts behind them, they came up quite frequently.
Archangel had almost hit Gambit. Would have if Bobby had not intervened. Oh, the Arcadian hadn't lied about anything, but somehow, that just made things worse. The words coming out of his mouth were true, painfully so.
Cyclops had considered it his duty to get the Cajun to his room to sleep it off, before things got any worse. Even now, Scott knew things would never be quite the same. It was now obvious Remy was far more insightful than he had ever let on.
A pair of unfocused red on black eyes blinked up at Scott's carefully impassive face. Cyclops' expression might have well been carved of stone. "Remy don' see how he could possibly be related to a stick up de ass like you anyhow," he slurred.
Despite the fact that it was the younger man that was drugged, it was Scott who tripped over his own two feet. "What?!" he choked. He could not have heard that right.
Remy snorted. "Needn't get your knickers in a twist Cyke. We only be kin on account of a technicality anyhow." He reached out to use the wall to steady himself. "Maybee I take afta de other half of the Summers family," the Cajun mused to himself, oblivious to the fact Scott was now staring at him openmouthed.
After a moment Gambit shook his head in disgust. "Who Remy be kidding? I take way more afta m' Father, no madder how I deny it." But that didn't mean he would follow the mad scientist. Not ever again. He was no one's slave, no matter what he thought.
"Like Jean-Luc?" Scott asked, still in shock.
"Non," Remy answered. "Not mon pere, my biological Father. Sinister." With that last revelation the Cajun pitched over, unconscious.
Cyclops barely managed to catch him in time. For a long moment he just stood there, his brother/cousin/who knows what's still form in his arms. "Well shit," he muttered at last. Scott was usually not one to swear, but given the circumstances it seemed appropriate. What was he going to do now?
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Hope you liked it
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