A/N: Been a while since I wrote something for XME. So let's just get some Rogue&Gambit stuff all up in here. This is my first shot at the pairing, so don't flame please. I usually write ScottxRogue, so this is a little bit out of my comfort zone.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything.
Love is a Strong Word
It's funny how she thinks its love. It could just as easily be some sick sense of the word, but she still believes that it's real. Somehow. Deep down.
Because really, they sleep in the same bed, have pet names, make breakfast (sometimes). It's some sense of love. The Institute is big and very accepting, so it's cool if they live there together, no one really minds.
So maybe it is love. She really hopes it is. She wants it to be love.
They don't kiss, so there isn't any physical sense of the word. And sex is out of the question. So then what's love?
Even in the morning, when she wakes up, she can see him and be happy because he's still there; for being flighty, he's stuck around a goddamn long time. So maybe he loves her in his own way, sticking around, behaving, watching his mouth. He's not doing too bad, really. For being Gambit, it's pretty good, so Rogue thinks that maybe that's his way of saying "I love you".
But probably not. She's being optimistic, especially considering it's him.
And on missions, he'll take a hit. Once, he even took a bullet for her and was held prisoner in the medical bay for almost a week, but Scott told her that his first words were asking about her. So can she call it love?
He's still there after fights, so he doesn't hate her. There are moments when he doesn't like her either, especially when they get close and he can't touch, but it's alright because they survive. Willpower serves them both well, and she's thankful that he's so quick to recover from the more painful blows like so.
They aren't doing too bad, really. She thinks it's fine because she's used to the "look but don't touch" mindset. He's struggling but managing. It's alright. It's good.
It's a quiet morning when she pulled on her gloves and tied back her hair, looking at him as he laid on top of the bed's comforter, always allowing her to lay under, their bodies forever separated. Rogue wraps her own side of the blankets across his half-naked form when the red eyes open to look up at her. Something of a smile is upon his features as he utters "Cherie" just under his breath.
"Remy," she murmurs right back, putting one gloved finger to her lips and then placing it on his cheek, forcing another smile to bloom upon his rugged features. "I'm goin' downstairs f'r breakfast, you want me to bring you pancakes or somethin'?" Already, Rogue is almost at the door, lingering in the frame, awaiting his answer. Her eyes are soft and gentle as they watch him roll over slightly and give a sigh that probably the whole Institute can hear.
"Oh Cherie, this is why I love you…"
She pulls herself back inside and even pulls the door shut a little bit; the whole world doesn't need to hear them talk. "Remy," she says, "love is a strong word…"
Propping his head up with one arm whilst still laying on his side, he gives her a puzzled look. "Sounds like you' tryin' to discourage me."
Uncomfortably, she shifts on the balls of her feet. Rogue's arms fold across her chest as she adds, "It's just that you never say it, Rem." She shifts. "And we can't kiss or nothin'. So sometimes it don't feel like love… I don't know if I wanna call it that yet." Her gaze strays from him and falls to the floor.
He smirks. "Then you don' understand, Rogue. Love don' need to be expressed like that. You give me your blankets. You wanna bring me pancakes. Ain't that love enough?"
"Remy-"
"It's unconventional, no doubt, but nothin's ever gon' be perfect between us. You can't touch people. I blow things up. Life's crazy like that, but can't we jus' pretend for five minutes that it don' matter?" He lays down again, flat on his back, and lets his eyes fall shut. "I think it's love, Rogue." One corner of his lips curls upwards in some semblance of a smile. "Besides, it's the best we got."
He isn't wrong, she realizes, and lets her arms back down to her sides. With soft steps, she heads back to the door. In the frame once again, she looks back at him, tucked under those blankets, still grinning. "So you want those pancakes?"
"Course, Cherie."
So maybe it is love. She can't always tell because there are so many barriers that keep them apart, but the moments when it's raw is when she realizes that it's not all bad. It's unconventional. It'll never be perfect. Life's crazy. They fight. There's sexual frustration.
It's love.
A/N: First time writing them. Definitely tell me how I did on Remy's accent. I've done Rogue's before, but Remy's new to me. Constructive criticism would be helpful! Leave a review and thanks for reading!
~Sky