Hey Everyone,

I haven't written a fanfic in years, I've worked on some original stories but not all are done (or even close!) but I hope you all enjoy this short Romy one-shot

Thanks for visiting and R&R as always!

What's in a Poker Game?

The first few times she had adorned her black silk as his distraction, his alluring trophy to throw off the competition. Alabaster and auburn tresses would twirl about ebony gloves to daze and entrance the other players intermediate the swirls of smoke in the room. Admittedly, the whole process drove Remy wild with jealousy even though it was his plan to begin with, however his winnings were a nice consolation, split 50/50 due to Rogue's fortitude. The couple was unconquerable, week after week Remy's daunting fingers would slip across the emerald velvet of the table to reveal winning hands as Rogue's willowy fingers concealed by their cashmere prison would slither tauntingly about the shoulders of other men to deprive them of their concentration. It took almost a year of pleading for Rogue to agree to be a part of his ingenuous plan, and sincerely, although never aloud, Rogue enjoyed the experience. It allowed her release. Release from tucking her personality and sexuality behind bars because someone could get injured. These men never dared to touch her, she was an unattainable goal with an ironclad guardian that possessed the eyes of the devil. Still, she remained shielded by floor length gowns and gloves that almost reached her shoulders to as to not be carried away by the illusion of freedom.

Tonight began the fun anew as Remy leaned on the outside crook of Rogue's bolted door, pale smoke dancing about his lips as he exhaled after each drag. She never allowed him to see her outfit until just before they departed, a mind game that both took pleasure in. Tasting the distinct mixture of spice and smoke seeping through the cracks in her doorway, Rogue would lean against the opposed side of the wall. She would do this ritually, manifesting a physical metaphor for the space her powers placed between them. He could sense her there. Back to back, he knew. They'd stay like this for several minutes in silence until Rogue would expose her ornamented figure betwixt the mahogany door and permit him to gaze upon her, and gaze he would. Each time his breath would seemingly abandon him as she snuck out in the most elegant of robes. Tonight, a strapless dress with color matching her piercing jade eyes fit taught about her torso and flowed freely about her legs with a slit that drew his eyes up to her waist where a jeweled sash hung perfectly on the curve of her hips, and as his eyes wandered higher they meet silky curled locks of flaming ivory and russet hair pulled back with black diamond pins to highlight his favorite feature of hers, her eyes. Rogue never offered a full smile until the game had begun and this way she could feign it was false, awaiting then she only let shy grins tug at but never succeed the corners of her painted lips. A practice which only made Remy hunger more for that smile.

The engine of his motorcycle snarled and hissed beneath them as Remy hadn't a clue tonight would be different from the rest. They arrived at a casino based in the late nineteen-forties, with name flashing in curled iridescent letters on the building front Remy gently took Rogue's gloved hand to service her dignifiedly off his bike. The overhead lights bathed them in golden radiance as Louis Armstrong's top hits could be heard from within as the sheen of instruments glimmered from the sweating band. Both adorned vast grins as Rogue took Remy's arm and he led them through the thick air permeated with jazz and screeches of winning patrons at roulette tables to the bar where with the highest of ease Rogue spun of a crimson crystal stool as her date ordered martinis through his alluring Cajun accent. Rogue inspected people of all kinds dressed in striking period clothes to gambol and romp about each other on the dance floor as she waited for her drink which came swiftly. Entranced in her observations, Rogue did not discern the strapping arm that glided about her waist or the stout scent of vodka and olives that permeated her nostrils until a thickly accented "chère" was whispered into her ear. She grasped her drink with a smirk and a, "'bout time, Cajun."

The couple enjoyed the scene about them of fedora hats and red lips as they meandered to the back room decorated with gold script that spelled out the word 'private'. Behind that lavish door lay velvet lined cherry oak poker tables, each with a buttoned-up dealer in translucent green visor, many with a cigarette dangling between their lips. The lights were low and the room's presence had altered once they sauntered in, they were a couple to be in awe of. The people here knew him only as Gambit and were too nervous to ask of his companion's title, evident by the hefty Mexican clothed all in black excluding his lucent earpiece raising his folded arms into the sky applauding, "Gambit! My beloved player," his deep voice chortled. Gambit knew from experience to tip his bouncer whether he won or lost, but he never lost.

His thick accent resonated through the air as he stated to the nearest dealer, "Deal me in." As he pulled out the golden studded cathedra of a chair, Rogue dropped an equal amount of money on the velvet and said the same. Gambit's voice may have resounded through the room but Rogue's froze it. She had never played before but had watched the best for weeks. When the shock had faded away, Gambit felt something akin to betrayal at Rogue's hands yet as the night endured he discerned that the occurrence was a challenge not a betrayal, and that's when the game became interesting. Little by little, other players would go all in and be bested by one of the pair until it was only the two, both equally focused and distracted by the other.

"Gambit's never lost, chère," his devilish smirked matched that of his eyes in an attempt to unnerve Rogue. He peered at the up folded corners of a pair of kings under his steady fingertips as his countenance remained untouched.

"Until now." She mimicked his actions with her own cards to see a small black 'A' accompanied by a red 'Q', however if gazed upon meticulously by the crowd of eager on-lookers that had assembled one could perceive her hands weren't as steady as her opponent's. Tension mounting in the room, the first three cards were flipped, one by one the material glided across the velvet to reveal its secret identity. The Jack of Hearts of flipped, followed by the Queen of Spades and finally a ten of clubs. Both felt confident.

Gambit decided to croon from across the table again, "What Gambit get if he win, eh?" The crook of his mouth coiled into a flirtatious simper. "A kiss, perhaps?" Feeling lucky with his cards, he thought he'd press his luck with his date.

As an eight of diamonds turned up on the table Rogue glared at him for only a second before answering, "only if y'would like a trip t'the infirmary, Cajun."

"Will y'come visit?" he flicked the cards with his thumb to make that unmistakable noise.

Rogue almost let out a smile as she declared with assurance, "Y'wish."

The dealer waited for the conversation to cease before overturning the final playing card. Gambit's lucky lady appeared with a flower in her hand, duel faces pointed to the sky. Both parties were all in and Gambit showed first regaling, "Pair o' kings an' queens." Rogue feigned a concerned face as she showed the crowd her hand and crooned, "Three ladies, shugah. Ah believe Ah win." The beam that found its way across his lips was almost as immense as it would had been had he won himself. The crowd applauded as Rogue tipped the dealer and the brawny Mexican then seized Gambit's muscular arm as he secretly flexed to impress her, which she again would never admit that it did, and they sauntered back though the hall bathed in gilded illumination and swathed in scarlet carpeting. It was nearly three a.m. and as they passed the dance floor the music was winding down as Remy rushed Rogue out to the floor and twirled her into his arms. She had never danced, so she held on tight to Remy's broad, suited shoulders and hoped for the best. He only spun in unhurried loops as he whispered, "Well played," close enough for her to feel his fervent breath on her ear. The sensation sent chills down her spine as she smiled out of his sight and replied, "Same time next week?"

Thanks for reading!

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Disclaimer: I do not own XMEN/XMEN EVOLUTION