Disclaimer: Rogue and Gambit belong to Marvel, not to me.
Warnings: None.
Author notes: Written in response to a Tumblr prompt. Romantic fluff is definitely not my comfort zone, but here's my celebratory gift to all you Romy fans out there... and to Rogue and Gambit finally tying the knot. :) x
The Prompt: "May I request a one-shot spinning out of the events of the wedding, maybe after the whole ceremony?"

Day One of Forever

"Be good to meine Schwester!" Kurt had yelled out the window after dropping us off outside my apartment.

I'd waved him off dismissively – as if, at this point, I'd have anythin' else in mind. Honestly, it'd been adorably dumb of him to assume that I've ever had anythin' else but good in mind for his sister, especially at this juncture.

But he'd already sped off, leaving me and Anna to our own devices – and now, finally, we're alone, away from the eyes and ears and all the heady congratulations that had been the soundtrack to the morning. Truth is, I've been dying for this moment – just a little slice of peace and quiet, just her and me, for as long as we can get.

We share a smile, slip our arms round each other's waists, and head inside.

And there's this stupid grin on my face, 'cos I seen some things and I done a lot more things; but screw me if I ain't pulled off the perfect heist today. So I stole me someone else's wedding; but you can forgive me for not bein' in the mood to be apologetic about it. The fact that this is masterclass level thievin' ain't got a thing to do with it. If I've ever needed a reason to be proud of myself, it's standing next to me right now.

Anna Marie LeBeau.

We finally reach my apartment, and I can't help but sweep her up into my arms; she laughs giddily as I open the door, her hands sliding up and around my shoulders.

"Are we seriously doin' this?" she exclaims, half-humorous, half-incredulous.

"We ain't done anythin' by the book today, chere," I reply. "I gotta do one thing right an' walk you over dis threshold, neh?"

So saying I step over and into the vestibule, leaning in to kiss her as I shove the door closed with my back.

"Since when have rules ever bothered you?" she murmurs after the first kiss.

"Since I met you," I answer, lowering her gently to her feet. Our second kiss is sweeter than the first, and I savour it. We haven't done that much making out since we got back together – at the moment any kind of skin contact requires a nullifying collar, and I know they're a pain for her to wear. Besides, we've been so busy with superheroics lately, it's not like we've had much time to spend in one another's company.

Hell if anything's gonna stop us from touching, from kissing, now. Not on our wedding night. Or morning.

Heh.

It's only in the middle of our kiss that I begin to realise I'm being attacked by three hungry cats, intent on punishing me for being left alone all night. Persistent mews and ankle-rubbing don't seem to be getting through to me though, which prompts Lucifer to get up on his hind legs and promptly dig his claws into my shin.

Our blissful little moment finally thwarted by a ravenous cat, I break away from Anna with a non-too polite expression of pain.

"Fuuuuu— OW!"

Oliver and Figaro bolt, only to come circling back almost immediately – Lucifer, however, is still stuck to my leg, as if nothing had happened at all.

"Git, ya great orange beast!" I shout at him, batting him away with a hand – he shoots off like a bat out of hell, which is exactly where the little devil came from. He ain't called Lucifer for nothin'.

The damage has already been done. Anna's already extricated herself from me, laughing heartlessly at my misfortune. I know exactly what she's thinking – Remy LeBeau don't break a sweat standing down Sentinels, Skrulls, or even the great Apocalypse himself – but throw a hungry cat at him, and he's bested within seconds. She wisely stifles her laugh and gets to her knees; Oliver and Figaro come right over to her, ready for a petting from their new best friend.

"Aww, don't be mad at them, Remy!" she scolds me, the two cats already purring mightily as she scritches them under their chins. "They must be starvin'! Yah did leave 'em all night after all!"

I mutter under my breath, annoyed to have been outdone in affection by a gang of vagabond felines. Sometimes I don't think they realise what they owe me. I mean, I know where I'd rather be, between this pampered existence and Victor Creed's rancid stomach.

"Yeah, yeah, fine!" I grumble uncharitably. "I'll get 'em their breakfast. I sure hope they ain't gone inta my cupboards again though. And they say cats ain't got opposable thumbs yet."

I head over to the kitchen, finding that only a box of cereal on the counter's been knocked over. As I put it back upright, I notice Lucifer peeking at me nervously from behind the door. Still feeling a little put out, I jump at him with a childish "Rargh!" – he shoots out from behind the door and back into the lounge – no doubt seeking Anna's sympathy.

I can't help smiling to myself as I dish out the cat chow. For some reason it'd felt stupidly important to me that my 'boys' got along with my woman. Turns out I needn't've worried. As soon as she'd stepped into the apartment, Anna had started cooing over how sweet and cute they were, and they, of course, had been lapping up all the attention like honey, the little buggers. Since then, I've been firmly second fiddle. Whenever Anna's in the house, I'm completely relegated to 'the human-that-delivers-the-kibbles-and-monopolises-the-new-best-friend's-affections'. But I'd gotten what I wanted. Those couyon furballs get along with my lady like a house on fire, and I might as well no longer be in the picture.

I lay out the food and water, and call for the cats. A split second later they come scampering into the kitchen and zoom straight for the chow, my previous outburst all forgotten. I give 'em an extra petting, just to make sure they know all's forgiven; and while they're happily munching on their breakfast/lunch/dinner, I head back into the lounge to see my wife.

My wife.

Holy hell, I never thought I hear myself sayin' those words again. One thing's for sure though – I'm gonna make damn sure I do round two a whole lot better than I did round one.

Anna's nowhere to be seen in the lounge, so I head into the bedroom.

She's standing there, staring out the window, silhouetted by the golden summer sunlight.

I stop in the doorway to admire her. Dieu, she's gorgeous. All these years later, and I still get that same feeling when I look at her, that thrill I felt when I first laid eyes on her. There are times we've been apart, been angry at each other, tried to make things work with other people… But I still get that feeling when I see her, wherever I am in life, whoever I'm with. It'd been the worst kinda frustration, to be so hung up on someone for so long, without any hope of resolution or progress. Your feelings don't just change… but sometimes you spend so damn long off the same page that you just end up feeling bitter. I guess that's how I felt. Bitter. Until Paraiso.

I come up behind her and wrap my arms round her waist, holding her close, not feeling the need to punctuate the moment with words. She leans back into me, and for a while we just stand there together in the sunshine, content to be in one another's embrace.

"How're the cats?" she asks softly.

"Stuffin' theirselves," I answer, kissing her sun-warmed shoulder.

"Good," she murmurs.

Her mind is elsewhere – I can feel it. I prop my chin up on her shoulder, ask:

"You okay?"

She nods.

"Uh huh."

"But…?"

She doesn't take the prompt straight away. Instead she takes in a breath as if to steal herself, her fingers lacing tightly through mine before she replies:

"I guess I'm just a little bit scared… if I'm bein' honest."

I frown a little at the statement, and I guess she senses it, because the next moment she's turned to face me, her gaze earnest.

"Don't get me wrong," she reassures me quickly, seriously. "Don't think that means I regret this. Because I don't, not for a second. I just… I'm not very good at relationships, and this… Well, I've never done this before." She pauses, adding almost tentatively: "You have."

I give a wry little smirk.

"Y'think my sham marriage wit' Belladonna counts?"

Her lips come together in a contrary little pout.

"A sham marriage? You loved her, Remy."

"The love wasn't a sham, chere," I correct her soberly. "The marriage was. We were too young to make dat kinda commitment – and it was other people's decision, not ours. But this, Anna," and I hold her hands tight, raise them to my chest, "this is from me, chere. From us, I hope."

She smiles faintly, as if surprised to hear me doubt it.

"Y'know it is, sugah."

"Then we figure this out together, p'tite. One day at a time. No promises, except for the ones we made today. Hopefully – this time round – we'll get our lifetime."

Her smile widens, and she drops her head, looking down at the space between us, remembering the first time we'd tried this, the first time we'd started out – that night in New Orleans, when we'd both lost our powers and we'd both been brave enough to reach for what we'd wanted. It hadn't worked then – and yet, here we are now. Together, even after all that time, all that turmoil.

She lifts her head and those beautiful green eyes fix mine once more.

"I hope we do. There's nothin' else I want more right now."

She doesn't need to hear me say I feel the same. Instead, we kiss again.

It feels so damn good to be right here – to not be running, searching, grasping for something. To finally have exactly what you want.

We hold one another a little bit before we finally break apart. Anna gives a cute little huff, blowing a white lock of her out of her face, declaring:

"I should get outta this get-up. My feet are killin' me in these heels."

I laugh. She's almost the same height as me in those fancy Louboutins. And since that lock of hair refuses to stop caressing her face, I reach out, tenderly tucking it behind her ear.

"Good idea. You look exhausted, chere."

"So do you," she rejoins slyly. "I swear, I've been through more drama the past twenty-four hours than I get in one week at Avengers HQ. Or during a half hour Sentinel bashin' in the Danger Room."

"Hm." I muse half to myself – it has been an emotional rollercoaster, entirely not helped by the fact neither has slept for a full day and night. "Speakin' of Avengers HQ," I add humorously, "we're gonna haveta have a talk 'bout that. 'Cos there ain't no way in hell you're goin' back there."

"Well," she banters back cheerfully, "I've gotta house in Nawlins, and one in Valle Soleado, so… take your pick."

I frown playfully.

"Umm… Well, how 'bout here for starters? Cuts down on the commuting expenses an' all…"

"Commutin' ain't no problem t'me, sugah," she retorts breezily, "super-sonic flight can getcha all sorts of places pretty darn fast… …"

"Ugh." I grimace. "I still ain't got the super-sonic flight down without wantin' t' barf when we land."

"Aw." She tugs on my lapels affectionately. "Yah don't like flyin' first class?"

"Oh, the company's superb, chere. It's just the everythin' else that comes with the package."

She pouts. Sometimes I think she forgets I ain't invulnerable like her.

"We should get some rest, p'tite," I say, loosening my grip on her a little. "It's been a looong day. And night, neh?"

"Right," she murmurs. "And then when we wake up?"

"I dunno." I shrug. "We can go out, go ring shoppin'. Go book our honeymoon – somewhere no X-Man, Avenger, supervillain, or natural disaster is gonna disturb us, I'm thinkin'. Or … we can jes' spend the whole day in bed. Doin' what married folks do."

She chuckles lightly.

"Somehow," she says, "I knew you were gonna say that."

She leans in and kisses me, long and slow, giving my lower lip a mischievous little nip before breaking away.

"I'm gonna go get outta this get-up," she says, walking halfway to the en suite before stopping and throwing over her shoulder: "Think you can unzip me?"

I'm only too happy to oblige her, and even more happy to plant a featherlight trail of kisses over her shoulder blades while I'm at it. Fuck, I still can't believe it. She's mine – her flesh is all mine. I'm hers. There's somethin' so damn satisfying about that fact. Nothing's changed – we're still the same people we were this time yesterday, with the exact same feelings – but I guess the difference is, we know we want to belong to each other now. We're ready to try this out together.

She backs away towards the bathroom, grinning hard, holding my gaze. Until recently, I'd hardly ever seen her like this – giddy.

"I won't be long," she promises me, before slipping into the room and shutting the door quietly behind her.

I undress and slip on a long-sleeved top and sweatpants before laying out on the bed.

I've been coasting on adrenaline alone the past few hours, and now, just lying here, warmed by the sunlight and this weird sense of contentment, I feel sleep pulling at me something vicious. I'm just about gone when Anna returns, stopping in the doorway when she sees how I'm laid out.

Damn.

Drop-dead gorgeous she may look all done up and dressed so fine, but this is how I like her best. Hair all loose and tousled round her shoulders, zero makeup, wearing nothing more than a pair of nightshorts and an old vest she'd bought at a hippie stall back during a mutant pride fair in Valle Soleado. It don't matter that she looks exhausted from all the fun. I'd be abso-freakin'-lutely fine with her comin' to me like this any day of the goddamn week.

"C'mere," I order her huskily, patting the space beside me. A slow grin crosses her face and she walks on over, settling down on the covers next to me. I turn into her and for a few glorious moments we kiss. When we pull apart again we stare at one another, maybe a little overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment, by the hidden horizon of this shared future. It's okay. We don't have to contemplate it. Not now.

I kiss her once more on the lips before murmuring: "Under the covers."

She gives me a questioning look before obliging me. Once she's under the comforter, she puts her back to me, almost as if she can read what I'm up to. It's another one of those moments when we're perfectly in sync – not that I needed more proof that I made the right decision today.

I tenderly brush her wild curls aside, press a final, lingering kiss beneath her ear, and slowly unclip the collar from her neck. We've had sex a couple of times with it on, but only when we literally can't keep our hands off each other. The collar ain't made for comfort – it's a restrainin' device after all – and kinky as that sounds, it chafes like hell, and makes me wish I could kiss away those red marks it leaves on her skin afterwards. I ain't about to let her rest with the damn thing on. As I quietly lean over to place it on the nightstand, I'm amused to see she's almost asleep already.

Good call, LeBeau, I smirk to myself.

I settle down beside her, rearranging the covers up over her shoulders (careful to minimise any flesh-to-flesh contact), before slinging my arm round her waist. Silence settles and I'm just about drifting off when I hear her say:

"Remy?"

"Hmm?" I rouse myself with an effort.

"So what are we gonna do when we wake up?"

Good question. What to do on our first day of married life?

"Mmmm… Have hot sex?"

She chuckles sexily, then says:

"Oooh, priorities. Then what?"

"And then… We're gon' take a trip t'see Forge and get him to work on fixin' you a much more user-friendly nullifyin' collar. I was thinkin' a bracelet. Or if he could fit it into a ring – even better."

She chuckles again.

"Ha. Kill two birds with one stone, huh?"

"Well… it would kinda make the ultimate wedding ring, don'tcha think?"

"Mmm." She snuggles deeper into my embrace. "You are so full of great ideas."

"I know," I reply, taking in a deep breath of her hair. "Think today proves it and then some, neh?"

She laughs again sleepily, and I figure it's time to let her rest.

And just when I think we've called it a night on day one of forever, she stirs and adds in a murmur:

"I love you, Mr. LeBeau."

"I know," I say. "I love you too, Mrs. LeBeau. Goodnight."

-oOo-