Title: Chaton, chapeau
Summary: New Year, hats , cats, and Logan not liking the new kid. Fluff
Characters:Rogue, Gambit.
Pairing: Romy
Genre: Romance.
Rating: T
Timeline: Don't know.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Fluff, ligh very very light smut.
Translations: Merde chérie, c'est um péché de regardé les bonnes. J'essaye torture – Damn darling, it's a sin to look so good. It's torture. Par une p'tite chaton, avec une féroce miaulement – By a kitten with a fierce meow.
Notes: New Years present.
Disclaimer: X-men não me pertence.
She was almost at the door when he saw her. Her white dress floated around her like a cape, flattering her curves. Her black opera gloves gave an elegant air, while the white fishnet stockings and the black shoes gave a fun air to it, which was, in fact, completely ruined by her irritated and angry posture.
-Remy? Are you even listening to me?
-Huh? Oh, chérie, 'course I am. I just, hum, ah saw an ol' friend, but, my friend over here – Remy pulled his current drunk and desperate cousin away from bothering some poor waitress an into his conversations. –bien, he been looking at y' all night, and, me, well chére, who am I t' interrupted in what c'n possibly be fate, non? – With a wink and a smirk on his lips, Remy was gone before Susan? Sara? Uh, before she could say anything else.
-Y' know, I wonder – Remy said before she could pass straight by him, which was already a surprise alone – Why would a souther belle such as y'self would be, not only alone, but leaving a party on new years eve?
She stopped on her tracks, and without turning added:
-Well, maybe spend the turn o' the year on the company of swamp rat's who fancy themselves Cajun Casanovas isn't exactly mah idea of party.
-Oh, beautiful and mean. I t'ink I might be falling in love. – He replied, amused by her answer.
-Aw, Ah don't think you have to worry 'bout that, sugar. –Her voice was mean and dripping with venom as she looked down at him, a step below her.
-Ah, but I do. – He smirked and took her gloved hands to his lips. - J'emapelle Remy,chére. Remy LeBeau.
-LeBeau? – She asked, arching an eyebrow.
-Oui. An' you'd be? – She hesitated a moment bofore answering, glaring at her hand, which her still held close to his lips.
-Rogue. – Remy was the one to arch an eyebrow now.
-Suits you- He smirked.
He wasn't the idiotic playboy she thought he'd be. Sure, it was very amusing when he realized that all his southern casanova charm would get him nowhere. But he was really funny, and after men running away from her mutation for so long, it was sort of nice that he kept on flirting with her – sometimes rather inappropriately – despite it.
Also, if she was going to be honest, he was very, very easy on the eyes. Actually, he was to good looking for her own good, with his chiseled jaw, his full lips, and his shaggy hair that fell charmingly from under his hat and in his mask that hid his beautiful eyes, strangely diabolic, of profoundly red irises in a sea of black.
- Merde chérie, c'est um péché de regardé les bonnes. J'essaye torture. – He whispered on her ear, after some glasses of champagne. She laughed.
-Ya know, Ah took two years of French in high school. An' that is not the kinda thing ya say to a… lady, or whatever.
-Dame? –Remy pushed her away, looking around. –Where? – Rogue narrowed her eyes when he laughed.
-Ah, haha. Ya know, ya should be a comediant. That clown face o' yours would already help a lot.
-Aw, béb, - He pulled her closer, swinging with her on the beat of the music. – J'etaime aussi. – Rogue rolled her eyes, but still put her arms around his neck.
-Yeah, whatever.
He really wasn't what she expected. Neither was what he provoked on her.
He wasn't thinking at the time.
Actually, he wasn't thinking straight since he saw her trying to leave the party, with those provoking stockings and maddening short dress.
But, when the countdown began, and she pulled him to the balcony, looking to the fireworks excited like a little girl, he just couldn't think in anything else.
Turning her to him, he murmured a 'Happy New Year' before pushing his lips on her surprised ones. He didn't think about her mutation, about comas or that she was practically a stranger; he couldn't. All he could think of were he bright green eyes, without any fear whatsoever of his own demonic ones, on her porcelain skin, on her cherry red lips, full and made to kiss.
Remy felt her surprise, than fear and then perplexity. She pulled away from him, glaring like he was an alien.
Taking her finger to the lips, Rogue managed to ask
-How you… How did...- With a look that read pure surprise and hope, she stood on her tip toes and pressed her lips against his lightly, then stronger. Nothing.
After long moments of big, confused eyes staring at him, Remy pulled her by the waist and crashed her lips onto hers. She responded, taking his hat off and passing her fingers through his hair.
Remy couldn't say how long they were there. Maybe is was a few minutes, maybe some hours, or maybe various sunny days. When they broke away, Rogue smiled up at him, beautiful and bright and real, and he didn't think twice before grabbing her by the hand and taking her away from the party.
The sheets under her hands were the softer she'd ever felt, and that heat inside of her was new and delicious and those feeling barely made room for her to breathe at all.
-Chére, chérie, Rogue- He called her name softly, than stronger, his hot breath caressing her ears,
-Remy...- She breathes on his neck, digging her nails in his strong shoulders, her thighs pressing against his waist. His skin was warm under her hands, for so long unable of this sort of contact. Remy's touch was gentle and strong at the same time, hungry, e it took her to the point of having to bite her lips not to scream his name.
Remy kissed her slowly, driving them insane; her moans in his ears and the sight of Rogue biting her lips no to scream was pure and sweet torture, with her soft skin under his hands, her toned legs against his waist, her nails scratching his back, was all absolute pleasure and pain.
He bit her neck and parted her lips with his own, allowing a strangled 'Remy' to escape, followed by and grunt of pleasure of his and her high pitched scream, alike an cat's meow, before they both collapsed, with no strengths.
Rogue laughed when he started to plant little kisses and bites on her neck, her weakness, before pressing their foreheads together and whisper:
-Bonne année, chaton. – His eyes glinting with mischief.
-Happy New Year – she smiled, kissing him one more time.
-Rogue! Come on, get down!
-Why, where's tha fire? – Rogue asked her roomate laughing.
-Professor is calling us to like, give the welcomes. And Amara said he's like, so hot.
-How can she know, if he arrives today? – Rogue asked raising one eyebrows.
-Oh I don't know. She's Amara, isn't she?- Rogue snorted and got down the stairs, laughing and fixing the slight oversized hat on her head.
Kitty arched an eyebrow. Ever since Rogue got back from the New Years holiday in New Orleans, she seemed so different. Happier, stronger, calmer. Lighter.
Curious, Kitty thought.
The guys weren't sure what to make of him, some acknowledging him with admiration, others with mistrust. Girls, on the other hand, practically raced to see who would get to him first, swooning whenever he would grin or kiss their hand.
-Non, chére, call me Gambit. –He said smiling to the blonde in front of him, Who fumbled with her hair nervously.
Until he heard it. Funny, seductive, mean.
Last time he heard that voice, the circumstances were… well, different.
-Gambit? – he turned. – It suits you. – She shrugged her shoulder, leaning on the stair, beautiful like he remembered, his old hat resting on her now short hair, framing her face perfectly.
-Y' know p'tite, I had a hat just like that.
-Really? She drawled.
-Mais, it was stollen.
-Oh?
-Oui. Par une p'tite chaton, avec une féroce miaulement. – She laughed, blushing slightly.
-Well, I'm sure she's Just mad 'cause ya kept her waiting too long.
-Je sui desolé, amour. How c'n I make up to it?– He asked, smirking.
-Ah, Ah'm sure Ah can think of something. –Rogue said, putting his arms around his neck.
Bobby glared again, and then looked ant John, who shrugged and looked at Scott, who looked puzzled at Wolverine, who growled at them both.
-I don't like him. – In which Roguhe smiled against Gambit's lips, who shrugged and kept kissing her.