What started off as a Christmas one-shot is now exploded into a full-blown story (with a plot and everything! Woohoo!) and, following chapter two, has little to do with holiday themes:)
DISCLAIMER: Yes, as a matter of fact, I do own- *Wade clasps hand over writer's mouth and whispers, "Shh! You might give away Luella!"* Right, um, I don't own any of these characters or anything. Tis purely for fun because I own nothing. ::cough::cough::
Rogue was grumpily stomping through the halls (because how else would the Rogue get from point "A" to point "B"?) when suddenly a petite dark-haired woman dropped through the ceiling and landed directly in her path.
"Kitty!" She growled in irritation. "Gawd, I told ya'! Ya' can't do that!"
The addressed mutant paid the goth no mind, instead offering a lame shrug before hurriedly launching into her gushing speech.
"So, like, Christmas is just around the corner, and I was thinking we should totally go Christmas shopping!"
In a moment of pure horror, Rogue's blood ran cold. She forgot her previous annoyance; heck, she forgot to breathe. Christmas shopping. With Kitty.
God, please start the apocalypse. Fire and brimstone are good, it's December and we could all use the extra heat anyway! Anything to get me out of this! Rogue thought desperately, her mortification evident by her contorted face and wide deer-in-the-headlights eyes.
"Um, actually, Ah'm kinda' busy. Logan asked me to - "
"Oh, I know! I told Logan and he said you could, like, just have your session later!" Kitty fired excitedly, her bubbly glee pouring out of her by her bouncing feet and beaming face.
He did, did he? That's it. I'm going to kill the old man. If it's even possible to kill the idiot. Damn. He's survived how many battles? Maybe I can't murder him - but I can sure as hell make his life miserable. Oh yes. He'll soon wish I could kill him. A subconscious diabolical grin spread slowly across the Southerner's features as she thought of all of the devious plots to to destroy her mentor's life.
The younger of the two was too preoccupied by her exuberance to notice her increasingly-terrifying teammate, and absently clasped her hands over her chest. "I heard you saying that you, like, didn't have presents for anyone, and I thought who better to help you buy things than me?"
Epic action music had been playing, Rogue's badassery more obvious than ever as she dutifully strode away from the burning chaos behind her, Logan's barely-breathing-body in the ruins - and then suddenly Kitty's words sucked her back to the boring (and, incidentally, ghastly), reality. The music cut, the flames died, and the Southerner was simply standing awkwardly in a virtually empty hallway. She stared at the other girl before her for several moments, her face now blank in surprise before she blurted out.
"What?"
Kitty shifted her weight and tilted her head with a slight roll of her eyes in amused irritation. (Someone as perky as she could never achieve full irritation). "You silly goose, I was saying that, like, I heard you say you had some Christmas shopping to do and that I would, like, totally love to help you!"
Rogue stared, the bile rising in her throat and the familiar feeling of the color draining from her already too-pale face made its usual appearance as she desperately thought for an excuse to escape what would be certain doom.
"Ah-um. Got...stuff. Yeah. Ah already got lots of stuff for people." And if by 'lots of stuff' I mean a droopy spider plant named "Eliot" for Storm and a half a bottle of oil for Logan's motorcycle, then I guess I'm not lying. Oh gawd, why is she looking at me like that? She hasn't figured me out, has she? You're not all that eloquent. She reminded herself, remembering her spluttering from mere moments ago.
"Did you, like, already get me something?" Kitty asked hopefully.
"Um - "
"Because if you didn't, you can, like, buy me something I pick out!" She suggested earnestly.
"Uh - " The alarms were blaring in her head-how in the hell could she get out of this?
"Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Oh no. Not the puppy dog eyes. Kitty knew even Rogue couldn't resist her big, blue, saucer shaped puppy dog eyes! Crapcrapcrap! Don't say 'yes'. Don't you dare say 'yes'. But even as Rogue tried to stop her lips from forming the word, her tongue and muscles refused to comply and a slow and reluctant,
"Yyyeeeesss," slipped out. NO! I MEANT TO SAY NO! WHY? WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?! Rogue cursed her body for acting against her. Maybe there was a logical reason! Maybe - Maybe Mesmero was controlling her again! Yes, that must be it. Anything was better than her own body rebelling and forcing her to agree to going with Kitty when Christmas shopping.
Before she could take the treacherous word back, the Illinois-born girl began jumping up and down and clapping her hands (I swear this girl's proof freakin' fairies exist).
"Yay, yay, yay! I was so worried you, like, wouldn't say yes! I'm so excited! Let me just, like, get my money!" She squealed, skipping (dear God, yes, skipping) away in the direction of her room.
Rogue stood rooted to the spot for several minutes in what can only be described as a catatonic state. Dear lord, she had just signed her own execution papers! This was the end. Truly. She had just agreed to go! Why?! Resigning herself to her unlucky fate (yep. The universe hated her.) the Southerner sighed, sluggishly dragging her feet towards her room. She should, at least, take some money along. If she had to endure her own personal hell, then at least she could maybe get something out of it. Ugh.
Rogue took comfort in the fact she was at least able to drive. Though maybe if I let Kitty drive we would have died in a fiery car crash and I would have been spared this. This of all things.
The large structure before her had never looked so imposing - its numerous floors and heavy bricks seemed to grin menacingly down at her from all sides, and she hadn't even parked the car yet. When the vehicle was finally sitting happily in a space, Rogue innocently dug through her purse, pretending to look for something in a last attempt at stalling her impending death.
Kitty must have been hanging around Jean too much for she had clearly picked up mind-reading somewhere. She rolled her eyes and impatiently said, "I'm like, not totally stupid. I know what you're doing. C'mon, let's go!" The semi-annoyed tone was instantly replaced by a perky gush.
The goth sighed and reluctantly left the sanctuary that the jeep allotted, dread building its little cabin and cozy fire as it made itself at home in the pit of her stomach. Her footsteps and heartbeat echoed as she slowly and warily advanced the formidable building. The very walls seemed to resound with an evil laugh as she stepped through the glass drawers. Please let the Brotherhood be here so I can stop them. Anything but this.
Kitty absently latched herself onto Rogue's arm, but at an unrepentingly terrifying glare, she wisely removed herself hastily and settled for walking side by side. Without even looking at the sign, the tiny brunette blindly walked into the first store on the right-a small dental business.
Why did I do this to myself? Were Rogue's final thoughts before she followed.
XxXxX
Remy had been casually minding his own business in his apartment (the one he shared with Pyro, of all people. The one good thing about working for ol' Bucket-head was his friendships with John and Piotr. Piotr had moved in with the X-men; he never really belonged anywhere else in the first place.); he was playing a lively game of solitaire (made 'lively' by his random igniting of the cards. He always lost that way, but the flaming cards provided more amusement anyway) when suddenly St. John burst through the door. (God forbid he ever open it with a normal amount of strength.)
"'Ey, if it ain't ol' Remy!" He greeted boisterously, his arms waving around extravagantly as if he hadn't seen the Cajun in months if not years.
The seated man rolled his eyes as he spared half of a glance towards his insane roommate. "I live here." He pointed out. This was basically how it always went, but John paid no mind to his half-amused half-annoyed friend.
"I had the greatest idea, I did!" Remy offered more of his attention at this revelation, absently quirking his eyebrows as he returned his gaze to the singed (or incinerated) cards on the table.
"Oh? And dat would be?" He questioned with disinterest.
"We should go Christmas shopping!"
"For who? Da only people I know are you an' Pete. An' my Tante. I t'ink she would beat me if I forgot her present." The Southerner added as an afterthought, a slightly terrified glint settling in his eye at the prospect.
"Oh come now! Don't play coy with ol' St. John. I know ya' got ya' sights set on that sheila with the X-geeks, mate." The Aussie replied as if chastising a young child.
Remy rolled his eyes and flatly stated, "I don't know what da hell ya' be talkin' 'bout"; unfortunately he couldn't help the light blush that tinged his cheeks.
"DeNial ain't just a river in Africa, ol' boy." Then, with a devilish grin, he began chanting in a sing-song voice, "Re-my's in luu-urve! Re-my's in luu-urve!"
"Shut up," the subject of the jingle growled.
"Oo, sensitive he is!" St. John had a gleam in his eye as he cackled maniacally and strode towards the couch where Remy sat now discreetly fuming.
"C'mon, ol' boy!" He reached down a hand and hauled the seated Cajun to his feet. "Let's go to the mall an' find that sheila o' yours somethin' she can't live without!"
"John, I don't-" But his half-hearted protests were either simply not heard, or, more likely, heard and promptly ignored.
It took no time at all to reach Pyro's car, and Remy barely had time to catch his breath as the Aussie roughly shoved him into the passenger seat and slammed the door in a hurry.
XxXxX
Rogue had survived the first five shops - somehow - and was resignedly trailing behind Kitty as she darted into the next store. At leas this one was one they would potentially buy something in, unlike the previous five. (Who knew they had a store in the mall dedicated purely to bubble wrap. Just bubble wrap. That must take a lot of self-control to work there.)
"Oo!" Kitty squealed, darting forward at something she had evidently spotted before even fully passing over the threshold. "Look at this totally adorable sweater!"
Rogue gaped at it, trying her hardest to suppress her gag reflex that demanded she vomit as soon as possible. But - dear god, it's pink and yellow paisley. How in the hell is that in fashion?
"Can't you, like, see Mr. Logan wearing this?" She gasped as she leaped (like a gazelle) over to another display, this one of camouflage pants. Now, Logan wasn't necessarily opposed to camouflage, but it didn't exactly seem like something he would lounge around in either.
Six. Six stores. Six out of dozens-hundreds! I have to get out of here! Rogue panicked, thinking perhaps she could set off the fire-alarm, but at last decided against it. She was the Rogue, look at all she had survived! Surely one day of shopping with Kitty wouldn't be the death of her, would it?
XxXxX
Remy was trudging behind St. John. It wasn't that he minded shopping with John, he really didn't - it got him out, but he couldn't help but think of how much he'd rather be shopping with someone else.
"Quit poutin', ol' boy!" The Aussie chastised, before he stopped, his eyes lighting up at the Christmas display in one of the shop windows. "Oo, Santa baby won't be droppin' off no gifts in that house!" He giggled madly, pointing his finger in a childish manner at the cardboard fireplace that was complete with cozy flames lapping at the hearth.
Remy rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he stalked off the other direction.
"Whatcha' broodin' about, Remy?" John asked once he caught up with his Cajun companion.
"I ain't 'brooding'," he muttered grumpily. And I don't mean to be picky, but you ain't who I'd really like to see right now. Logan had to change the security system. Nothing a master thief like me can't get passed, but it still puts a hitch in my plans. I wasn't expecting it last time and almost got caught because of it. Because of her.
"Sure you are,'' Pyro slapped his hand on the other's back. "But that's okay; ol' John will help you get over your Christmas blues."
"I ain't got 'Christmas blues' either." He grumbled, hunching his shoulders and allowing his lower lip to protrude slightly farther than normal.
"Sure, an' I ain't a pyromaniac!" John laughed hysterically, ignoring the confused (and worried) glances he was receiving. Once he calmed down enough, he paused and stated in a voice far too serious. "Ya' know, mate? That tasted bad jus' sayin' it."
The Cajun rolled his eyes. "Let's jus' get dis stupid - " He froze when he heard a sweet, delicate voice gently lap against his ears in soothing tones.
"Gawd, Kitty, Ah said no already! Ah ain't wearin' that god-awful pink-thing!"
"What's the matter, mate?" John asked, seeing a gleefully devious grin slowly spread across his friend's face.
"Uh, Remy? You're givin' me the heebie-jeebies. What's goin' on?" Normally, Remy would have derived some sick pleasure from the level of fear in the Aussie's voice, but he was far too focused on the source to even notice his friend's trembling.
"Jus' follow me." The addressed replied in an eerily low and and diabolical voice, one that matched the deranged smile he directed to John only too well.
"Uh, sure, mate. Where are we goin'?" He replied uncertainly.
Rather than answering verbally, Remy only permitted his grin to stretch even further across his face, the terrifying glint spanning up to his eyes.
XxXxX
This is it. I'm finally going to jail. I can see the headlines now: "Girl Brutally Strangles Friend with her own Pink Scarf". Yes, that's how it will go. At least I'll get some amount of infamy. Rogue thought dryly as she pushed away another hideous selection that Kitty had vigorously waved in front of her face. I'm not freakin' blind. And even if I were, I'm sure I could still see that deplorable pattern.
"Roo-oogue!" Kitty whined, having the audacity to even stomp her foot dramatically. "Why aren't you buying anything?"
"I'm too busy plotting your gruesome and untimely demise," is what she wanted to say, instead she opted for, "I just haven't seen anything yet."
The brunette sighed looking uncharacteristically forlorn before she spotted something else (surely awful) and fluttered over, gushing shrilly and not even noticing the looks she was attracting.
Kill me. Just kill me now. Make it quick, if you can, but kill. me .now. She pleaded softly inside her head. A cold chill ran through her and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Under normal circumstances, she would have dreaded that sensation; however, today she welcomed it - it might be her chance to get out of shopping. Casually, oh so casually, she glanced around.
A couple, the guy looking almost as bored and mortified as she herself. A screeching child (Gawd, this trip is so horrible I didn't even notice her) clawing at her mother's knees. A man by the lingerie obscuring himself by the use of a newspaper. An elderly lady at the end of the checkout line, bickering about some stupid coupon. A gentleman by the entrance with an open umbrella concealing his face. A group of teenage girls who were at least as irritating as Kitty if not worse.
Hmm, that's - her train of thought was interrupted by a shriek near Newspaper-guy, and a woman's piercing tantrum could be audibly heard as she thwacked the man repeatedly with her purse,
"You pervert! Get out of here! Spying on women's clothing like that! I bet you do this all day, don't you?!"
Rogue paid little mind to the scene, barely even registering that the swish of the recipient's trench coat should have been familiar as he darted into another aisle. Nor did she notice that Umbrella-dude was shuffling past her, careful to keep the canopy angled parallel to his face as he headed towards Newspaper-guy.
Something had caused her 'spidey-sense' to tingle, but what? Well, nothing seemed out of the ordinary for freaky mall people, so, sighing with despair that she had no way of escape, she dragged her feet closer to Kitty.
"Did you, like, see that freaky guy in the lingerie? Who does that anyway?" Kitty questioned absently, her distaste evident by the revolted grimace on her face.
"He's a mall person, Kit, what do you expect?" Rogue retorted irately.
"Hey, that's, like, totally not fair!" The younger pouted.
The Southerner rolled her eyes and decided to appease the girl by gesturing lamely to some shirt.
"Oo, you're right! I love it!"
The two moved (one with reluctance and the other with excitement) from store to store in search of the 'perfect gift'. The only relief Rogue found was a Dunkin' Donuts nestled beautifully in between two clothing stores, and Kitty agreed they could pick up a coffee.
"So," Kitty began conversationally. Gawd, the girl never shuts up. "I know you'll get things for most of us at the mansion, but, like, what about that sexy Gambit guy?"
A spray of steaming, dark liquid spewed from Rogue's mouth, attracting both confused and distasteful looks.
"What?!" She gasped after her oh, so eloquent display of gagging and choking.
"You know, that hot, Cajun, card-throwing guy," the petite brunette continued as if nothing had happened.
"Um, Oh. Right. That guy." The southerner shrugged in what she hoped was nonchalance. "Ah think Ah know who ya' mean. Why would Ah get him somethin'?"
"Oh, c'mon, Rogue! It's me! Do you, like, think I'm totally blind?" Kitty asked incredulously with a light smack on the other girl's shoulder. "I mean, I've obviously seen that card you, like, use as a bookmark."
"What card?" Yes. Playing dumb was the only option. Really dumb. Like a blonde dropped at birth. Good plan. "Ah don't really know what exactly you're referrin' to."
Kitty rolled her eyes. "You know, the queen of hearts."
Rogue cocked her head and actually rubbed her chin in contemplation. Then, a look of realization was allowed to don her face. "Oh, riiight! That card. Ah don't really think he gave it to me, Ah jus' picked it up somewhere." Well, I didn't exactly lie. I said I "don't really think". The "really" cancels out the whole statement. And I did pick it up. From the floor when I dropped it in excitement. Um, not excitement. Fear. Fear that it would explode even hours after he gave it to me. Right. Fear.
Her friend gave her "that" look. "Then how come you, like, totally freaked when you couldn't find it that one time?"
"Um - '' C'mon, girl, think! "Because I was concerned that it would give someone else a paper cut. I had a nasty scratch for three weeks." Right. She'll totally belive that. Who wouldn't?
"Yeah, whatever. But you should, like, definitely buy him something!" She suggested eagerly.
"What the hell would Ah buy him?" Rogue asked blankly. No! No, you were supposed to ask why you would buy him something, not what you would get him! Drat.
Apparently Kitty noticed her slip too. "So you're, like, not denying you should buy him something?"
"What? No! Don't be ridiculous!" Smooth, real smooth. She looked around in desperate hope that something would appear to take her away from this. Hmm, strange. Newspaper-guy and Umbrella-dude are back. I swear they were in the last store too.
Had the girl looked a second longer, she would have noticed the casual lowering of the periodical and the narrowed red eyes peering casually over the top. Followed by the nonchalant shifting of the umbrella so the holder could gaze at her.
XxXxX
"Remy, mate, what's the point o' all o' this is ya' ain't even goin' to talk to the sheila?" St. John asked his friend after carefully angling the umbrella to its former position.
"I'm jus' bidin' my time an' waitin' for da right moment,'' the Cajun replied, never taking his intense stare away from the discussed 'sheila'.
"Ya' do realize ya' actin' creep, eh, ol' boy?" The Aussie pointed out.
"Am not." He grumbled, his mouth turning down into a frown but his eyes remaining steadily (and stalkerishly) focused on his target.
"Are too."
"Am not.'
"Are too."
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"I am not!" Remy snapped, jerking his head to his friend with eerie speed.
"Fine. Ya' ain't," John shrugged, as if the whole matter was an everyday occurrence.
Gambit stared at his roommate for several long moments before returning his gaze to the Southern girl.
"Damn, I lost her!" He exclaimed, realizing her tantalizing auburn tresses were nowhere in sight.
"Don't worry, mate, we'll find her." John assured with a friendly pat on the shoulder.
XxXxX
Finally, after close to three hours of discreetly trailing the two X-girls, Remy saw his chance to approach. Kitty was in a dressing room trying on what must have been dozens of outfits, and Rogue was sitting in utter boredom on a bench just outside.
"I can go distract the other sheila!" John suggested earnestly, pointing immaturely at the dressing room's door.
"Non, da las' t'ing I need is gettin' kicked out 'cause o' you bein' accused o' bein' a pervert," Remy growled, only half-paying attention.
The pyromaniac pouted. "Fine. I don't s'pose my Wanda would appreciate that anyway..." He added as if the thought had just occurred to him.
The Cajun rolled his eyes and stated, "Jus' go entertain ya'self. But don't burn anythin' down!" He warned when he saw a disturbingly familiar glint in his fellow mutant's eyes.
"Fine. But you're no fun, mate."
Remy ignored that last part, as he was getting into his "sexy, devil-may-care" mode (which, if we're being honest, is what he always is in no matter what).
"Why, bonjour, chere! Fancy meetin' you here!"
XxXxX
Rogue had been sitting idly on a bench, wondering what she had done to deserve such torture. At least she was permitted to wait outside, and was surprisingly even being spared a fashion show.
I swear she's doing this all on purpose. Because I got her a crappy gift last year. How was I supposed to know N-SYNC was no longer the popular "boy band"? Geesh. It's not my fault these weirdo One Direction freak popped in out of nowhere, suddenly taking away N-SYNC's fanbase. Or maybe it was because I burnt her One Direction poster after she -
"Why, bonjour, chere! Fancy meetin' you here!" That - that voice! Didn't it belong to - ?!
Slowly, casually, she turned around to find a tall, lean, gorgeou - , um, gargantuan, yes, that's the word she meant, figure looming over with a relaxed and amused smirk plastered onto his irritating face.
Damn, how did the man become even more attractive? Wait, no! More ugly! Ugly. I thought he was an eye-sore before, but I guess I was wrong.
Rising to her feet, she defiantly placed her hands on her hips and, attaching a scowl onto her face, demanded, "What the hell do you want, swamp rat?"
"Da company o' a belle femme?" He offered innocently, his eyebrow quirking up as he spoke.
She, in turn, narrowed her eyes. "Kitty's in the dressing room."
"Ah, ma cherie, dis sense o' humor ya' got!" He chuckled, a gleeful glint sparkling in his eye and only adding to his attract - ugliness.
"Ah ain't your anythin', much less your 'cherie'!" She countered, emphasizing the final word by mocking his accent.
"Sure ya' ain't. Not yet anyway." The first part was humoring her, the last part was purely annoying.
"Oh, jus' go away already." The Southern belle grumbled, indignantly crossing her arms over her chest.
"Ya' wound me, so!" The Cajun dramatically placed a hand over his heart and leaned his head back as if looking towards the heavens.
She rolled her eyes. "Ah'd sure like to - maybe fatally."
He pouted. "Don't gotta' be so cruel; Remy was jus' tryin' t' make some nice conversation."
"Yeah, well Remy can go jump off a cliff as far as Ah'm concerned." She huffed.
"For you, chere, I'd do anythin'."
Her hand came flying up and hit her own forehead in frustration. Gawd, which was worse, Kitty or him? I'll take the apocalypse. Fighting for survival at the end of the world sounds good. Especially if I have Daryl Dixon on my side. Hmm...Gambit could play Daryl. Wait - what? He looks nothing like Norman Reedus! No! You don't want Remy there during the apocalypse, you want the apocalypse to escape Remy! Wait...'Remy'? No! He's Gambit! You want the apocalypse to escape Gambit! Gah! This is all so confusing! What was I even thinking about?
Rogue desperately hoped her traitorous thoughts weren't visible on her face, because right now she was thinking about what would happen if she and Gambit were the last two people on Earth. Would they try to procreate, or - ? No. Bad. Very bad. Focus on getting away from him.
"So, petite, whatcha' want for Christmas?" Remy asked casually, leaning against a display in a very beauti - um, irritating manner.
"Your death papers?" She replied innocently, thankful that her brain was still able to come up with an insult even though it decided entertaining stupid thoughts was a good idea.
"Ah, I was t'inking an official document o' another kind. Our marriage license perhaps?"
Because clearly choking on her coffee earlier was not close enough to a death experience, her very own spit decided to travel down the wrong tube and leave her spluttering and gasping for air. In an instant, Remy's relaxed and amused attitude dissipated only to be replaced by one of sincere concern.
"Ya' okay, chere?" He asked absently as he gently patted her back, applying just the right amount of force to clear her air passage without being rough.
When she could at last breathe like a normal person (Thank God they were in the back of the store), she glowered at him.
"Ah'm fine, bayou boy."
He studied her with worry for several more moments, as if ensuring for himself she was indeed 'fine', then nodded. "All right, petite. Jus' don't do dat again. Jus' 'bout gave dis ol' Cajun a heart attack t'inkin' ya' were hurt." In the next instant, his smarmy smirk was once again adorning his stupid face and he said cheekily, "Though if ya' kept dat up much longer I mighta' been able to offer mouth-t'-mouth."
How the hell did he go from sincere concern to annoying flirtatiousness in less time than it takes to blink? Rogue wondered incredulously. "Ah think Ah would take death over that, thank ya' very much."
"Why don't we try it and ya' can see which ya' t'ink ya'd like better?" He suggested, waggling his eyebrows at her.
"Oh, shut up." The girl grumbled.
Ignoring her annoyance on the outside (the inwardly loving ever second of it), Remy casually walked around the front of the bench and sat down, draping his arm on the back.
"Come sit down, wit' me."
"Ah would rather eat a bag full o' hair." She told him flatly.
He grimaced. "Ya' got some weird eatin' habits."
Rolling her eyes, Rogue began to walk away.
"Hey now, don't be like dat," Remy pleaded catching up easily.
"Go away."
"Whatcha' doin' for Christmas?"
"Plannin' your murder."
"Ol' St. John's goin' t' Wanda's, and dat leaves dis poor Cajun all by his lonesome," he confessed quietly, convincingly putting on a show of being sorrowful at the prospect but trying to hide it.
Rogue bit her lip. Sure, she hated, loathed, abhorred the man, but no one should have to be alone on Christmas. The back of her mind warned her it was a trick, but she decided that she could ignore it - just this once.
Pretending he had no idea what effect his words and body language might have on her, he continued mournfully,
"I was gonna' go home for Christmas, but mon pere said I wasn't allowed back home no more." Well, that part was actually true; but he wasn't all that disappointed at the prospect. Henri said he, Mercy and Tante would be coming to visit soon (with some of his cousins maybe?) and they were the only people he cared to see anyway.
"So it's jus' gonna' be me. All alone. On Christmas..." The Cajun trailed off dejectedly, and even from the corner of his eye he could see the gears in Rogue's mind moving.
"Well, um...Ya' know, Christmas is gonna' be small this year at the Institute, with so many people goin' back home an' such, an'...Um. Ah'm sure one extra person wouldn't hurt." She offered, cursing the words even before they left her mouth but unable to stop them.
"Ya - Ya' askin' me t' spend Christmas wit' ya'?" He didn't have to pretend the excitement and glee, as the prospect brought that out naturally.
"No, not with me exactly," She corrected hastily. "But, with the mansion. Ah mean, Ah might be there, but ya' ain't spendin' Christmas with me."
"Sure I ain't, I never t'ought otherwise," he affirmed, deciding that placating her would be the best way to do things. "What do ya' want for Christmas?"
"Nothin' really. You?" Gawd, am I actually having a normal conversation with this freak?
"A date with you," He told her, brushing his lips across her own so quickly her powers didn't even have time to register.
Rogue stopped walking, rooted to her spot and staring at him incredulously as her hand absently traveled to her lips.
Grinning at her wickedly, he glanced up and whispered, "Mistletoe." Offering a final cheeky wink, he dashed away and called,
"Merry Christmas, petite! See ya' den!"
Rouge stood in a catatonic state. What the hell just happened? Maybe the apocalypse wasn't here yet, but the whole day is one giant sign that it's surely coming. Gawd, Christmas with Rem-Gambit. That ought to be interesting? Now...What should I get him?
A/N:I hope you all enjoyed this:) And yes, I realize neither Rogue nor Kitty is stupid enough to not realize Newspaper-guy and Umbrella-dude were following them, but for the sake of the story they were terribly oblivious:) (And no, I couldn't help bringing my beloved Daryl into it; though I didn't plan on it even when I first mentioned the apocalypse.)
If you see any spelling/grammatical errors, feel free to let me know, though I've been over this three times and I think I actually got them all. Or if you have a better title in mind, I'm open, though take no offense if I don't necessarily use it:)
Yes, even when it's Christmas I shan't spare you an impromptu poem: *ahem*
Tis Christmas time, all through the world
And many took time to to watch as this story unfurled
How could the writer know your own personal thoughts
Unless you left a nice review, and that means lots!
So there you go. Any feedback is appreciated, even just favorites and whatnot. I shall say good bye with a final: MERRY CHRISTMAS!