So a quick thing I'm writing up while everyone is still high on X-Men Gold 30! This is going off that panel at the rehearsal, where Remy is talking about how all 'this wedding stuff is making me thing romantic thoughts'. When I first saw the preview of that moment, it'd stuck with me. I'd known then and there that he was for sure going to propose eventually (though I was surprised at how quickly that happened!). There's going to be more chapters to this, one about the wedding, the next, a sweet wedding night, and possibly a really sweet morning after, so keep your eyes peeled!
Also, I did deviate from Rogue's rehearsal dinner outfit. I'm a big fan of menswear styles, power suits, and the like on women. Sexy as fuck if well done. But hell no, she wouldn't wear a blazer to a rehearsal dinner. No, she would not. So, I dressed her for this;) If you tumblr, you can see the dress. If you don't, go look up Are You Am I it's the Anke dress in black. Do it. That dress is seriously hot.
Remy leans back against the bar, takes a sip off his drink, and looks out at all the happy party-goers.
More like, he's got his eyes trained on one party-goer, in particular.
She's laughing at something Stormy said, her head tilted back, her sound loud enough he can hear it over the din. She catches him watching from the corner of her eye and flushes, shoves a white curl behind her ear, and smiles at him before turning back to her friends, and he feels his chest tighten as his heart blows up.
Rogue to all, Anna-Marie to a few, and his undisputed once-in-lifetime kind of love.
And goddamn, does he love her. That's been a thing since near the first time he'd laid eyes on her that night on Muir Island. She'd sassed him, excited him, whooped his ass, and then yanked him up into a kiss to make his eyes roll up clear to the back of his head.
And now? Well. It's been a few years, some incredible highs and several more heart-breaking lows, and a break-through mission since that night, and look at them now. A little over a month after Paraiso, and going strong.
He sips his drink again, and continues watching her as he considers that. Strong. And different. This time is for keeps. That's been the feel between them this go around, even from the moment he'd first kissed her in Paraiso. A feel of his own, and one he's picked up off of her, and a feel reflected in every old wall busted down, every old insecurity resurfaced and dealt with (some, over and over, especially in the very beginning), every old hurt popped up and hashed away...
That line of thinking inevitably turns him along a thought that's been cropping up of late— making it permanent. Making them a solid, done deal.
A notion he'd honestly never thought he'd ever consider again. Not after the complete shitshow of his marriage to Belle, and definitely not after the utterly devastating and disgusting shitshow he'd lived after. He'd spent the first three-quarters of his life ruining everything he'd touched, and the last quarter of it head over heels, stupid in love with a woman he was terrified of really trying for ruining that—her—too.
Honestly, it's not like he hadn't made a decent head-way in doing just that, anyway. Omissions, implied truths, admitted half truths, out-right lies, all to protect a few crippling secrets...
No wonder she'd skittered off and got away for so long. He'd killed her trust and thoroughly fried her self esteem, all in a matter two kisses.
Granted, leaving him in Antarctica had been a painfully harsh consequence to pay, and then later, running straight into the arms and bed of the very man who had brought it all on had been an even more painful stab at him, there certainly is that.
That, among so many other hurts they'd inflicted on each other.
As it is, all the worst of beasts between them have already been poked at and bested, all finally water under the bridge. And it feels good. Freeing.
Freeing enough to consider a few things impossible to consider before.
It isn't hurting at all that he's been practically breathing Kitty and Piotr wedding fumes nearly everyday since they'd returned.
"Swear it, shit's in the air I breathe, and the water I drink," he mutters with a small laugh, eyeing the ice in his whiskey as if suspect.
Except nah, he'd felt it first back on that island. The night of the big showdown with the golems, when Rogue had been lit up and hunched over from everyone's baggage, shaking to pieces from it all. When she'd told him she was barely hanging on, and he'd realized he was always going to be there. Even for the ugly parts.
"I'll stay wit' you every second." He'd told her. "Always."
He hadn't heard any wedding bells in that moment. The situation had been a little too oh shit! for that to occur to him. But the intent had been there. It'd been behind his promise to her then, too.
At any rate, whenever the actual thought to pop the question had first happened, here he is, at someone else's wedding rehearsal, watching the love of his life look over Rachel's shoulder to smile at him and break away from the group, thinking maybe a trip to the jeweler's might be in his near future.
He grins at her as she approaches, his vision flashing red as his heart rate doubles up. Because fuck him sideways to Sunday, she's beautiful. Fascinating. Always has been, and it's looking a whole lot like to him, she always will be.
Especially when she's dolled up like she is tonight, in that little black number that's been putting a twitch his dick all evening long. He eyeballs that low, squared up neckline pushing her tits up to her chin, and thinks about how he'd like to drag her off to the closest lonely spot, and nail her so hard, they pop right out into his hands.
He'd already tried it just before they'd come up earlier, back at his place, thinking they had plenty of time for a quickie. Hell, they'd even arrived at Harry's early. (He'd tried then, too.) She'd laughed him off and batted his hands away, informing him in no uncertain terms that he absolutely was not ruining this dress. Or her hair.
"You're a grown-ass, civilized man, Remy LeBeau. You can wait til we get back to the mansion. Where you will not tear my dress off, for a change," she'd snorted at his dismayed expression, and slapped his ass with a flirty tug of her lip through her teeth before leaving him where he'd stood to go visit with Stormy and Jean.
His smile widens at the memory, and at the incredible woman who'd made it currently stepping right up into his space to greet him with a fast kiss on the mouth. He's come to learn that she's like that— likes to pretend she hates it when he ruins a made up look on her. The night's still young, though, and with the looks she keeps throwing at him—
"Hey, sugar," Anna blinds him with a smile, pulling back just as he feels the first pinch of her mutation, spinning a slight whirl and tilt to his world from the little 'sip' she'd gotten off him just now.
"Whoa there, you okay?" She asks softly, a gloved hand cupping his jaw, concern tightening her voice and stressing the New York tinge in her drawl. Despite working around her power as much as possible over the past month, and learning that fast touches are generally harmless, she's still terrified of hurting him, or worse. He can't blame her, but he's definitely of no mind to discourage her in any way, either.
Remy turns his face into the palm of her hand and kisses it. "I'm jus' fine, beb," he murmurs, reaching an arm around her hip, pulling her in snug for a lightening-quick smooch right over her ear.
No pull that time, and grinning split ear to ear, he kisses her again. And again, and again, and again, all the way across her cheek to her mouth, each kiss broken off as fast as it'd begun.
Anna relaxes and leans into those kisses, closed, a half smile on her lips. Always so responsive. One of hundreds of little things about her that makes him completely stupid about her.
"Mmm, someone's affectionate tonight," she hums at him, her eyelids heavy to slits over those incredible eyes, making him shift just a bit more toward her, gaze hungry on the soft dip of her cleavage.
"Very affectionate, chere," Remy agrees whole heartedly, hand sliding down over hip to her backside, fingers digging in—
"My lord, Remy," she giggles up at him, "such an unreal Cajun rat, ain't you? Think you can behave yourself for minute while I get a drink?" She reaches up on her toes for a kiss, and moves to his side, turning to the owner of the establishment with a brilliant smile. "Evenin', Harry, how you been, sugar?"
Remy drops his hand off her hip to lean on the bar, and she presses her front into his arm, her hand slipping over his abdomen as she charms and flirts with old Harry while he gets her drink (Captain and Coke. Her favorite, except when it comes to his whiskey sours). He watches her play with the buttons of his shirt, fingers slipping in between them to caress him for a moment, then pulling back out to do the same over the fabric.
Beautiful, fascinating, amazing, incredible, absolutely stunning woman...
"This's one helluva shindig, huh, Cajun?" She sighs happily, turning back around to lean against him, eyes on the crowd as she grabs his hand and pulls his arm up around her shoulders.
"Mmm-hm," Remy agrees, eyes up at her face now, "it is." He laces fingers through hers and rubs his thumb along her knuckles. Christ, she's all sweet and relaxed into him right now, her mood warm, the feelings he's picking off of her are soft, and he thinks maybe his chest is too small all of a sudden, because why else would it feel like his heart's squeezing up clear to his mouth— "don' know about you, but all this wedding excitement's got me thinkin' some real romantic thoughts, Anna-Marie."
She lays her head back on his shoulder and pfffts at him. "More like all you're thinkin' about is honeymoons. Or rather, the main activities happening on honeymoons." She twists back and drops a kiss on his chest. "I just seen what was in your head, Remy, with that little zap I gotcha with."
He pops up a brow, because little does she know...
Thank whatever god's up there he'd had his thoughts in the gutter before she'd nipped off of him with that kiss...
"Well, if you saw some of what I was thinkin'..." He seizes that in as he drops to a whisper right over ear, giving her a thoroughly graphic description to go along with the imagery she'd plucked out of his head, and hopefully completely distracting her whatever extra whisp she might've gotten from him.
She squirms, shifts, and squeezes her thighs together, flushing clear down into that neckline that's been driving him out of his damn mind all night. "My heavens, Remy, you've been actin' all night like you ain't gotten any dang near every night this past month," she huffs up at him in a mix of laughter and exasperation.
Sensing a deep swell of want going along with all that 'scolding', he flashes his teeth and that stupid dimple he knows she melts over. "Mais, yeah, and you been actin' all night like you didn't wear that dress just for me—"
"—Mmm-hm, I kinda did, and you know what, Remy?" She cuts him off, darting a furtive look around the room to make sure no one is watching, then slinks out of her panties quick as you please and stuffs them in his hand. "I think I'mma need you to hold onto these for me while I'm in the ladies' room," she teases him with a wink, reaching up on her toes to continue in a thick purr by his ear, "and sugar-pie, do mind yourself, 'cause I swear to Jesus, you tear up my dress, you ain't gettin' laid again til its replacement is hangin' pretty in my closet. And don't you dare touch the hair."
And with that, before he can snatch her back for a quick kiss, she swerves out with a sultry smirk and sashays off toward the bathrooms.
"Goddamn," he laughs a bit breathlessly to himself, eyes burning hot as sets his unfinished drink next to hers and shoves her panties in his back pocket, "I jus' might hafta wife that little hellcat after all."