Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, zip. Blaze owns me. Ilehana is Corrinth's.
02
When it came down to it, and if he'd been offered a choice, Gambit would probably have preferred to be in the Arctic. As it was the Cajun was sat at the back of a classroom in the cavernous lower levels of the Xavier Institute. He had his feet up on the desk in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His chair pivoted dangerously on two legs, just the way your parents told you not to sit. His arms were folded and the scowl on his handsome face told of his displeasure. Around him, also sat at desks, were a handful of the Institute's students. At the very fore of the classroom stood their instructors, Scott and Jean.
"You each have a copy of a map of Bayville," Scott was lecturing eagerly. "Precisely, this map," he pointed behind him to where a map was projected onto the white wall. Gambit stifled a groan. This was going to be a long day. "You can see points A and B clearly marked here, and here." Scott actually had a laser pointer to aide his demonstration. Gambit could think of some more interesting things to do with it.
"What we want you to do is plan the quickest route from point A to point B," Jean told everyone, bestowing an encouraging smile on the class, even Gambit. Feeling patronised Gambit proceeded to fold his paper map into a fighter jet, much to Jean's consternation. "Um, that's not quite what I had in mind Gambit…" Remy ignored her, launching the jet lethargically. It soared twice around the room, before landing on Berserker's desk. Ray wanted to see if electricity had any effect on paper planes, and by means of his powers practically vaporised the paper. Jean descended into a sulk as the smell of charred parchment filed the air.
"Has anyone got an answer yet?" Scott asked over the bedlam.
"Yeah, yeah," Boom Boom waved her manicured hand in the air giddily. "You wanna like use Nightcrawler, am I right?"
"Use me?" Kurt exclaimed, feeling hurt.
"No powers," Scott lectured.
"Well that's my plan out the window," Cannonball launched his own paper plane, which clouted Magma on the back of her head and consequentially also got incinerated.
"Use the X-Van?" Iceman quipped, finding out that ice planes didn't fly as well as paper ones. Jean rolled her eyes, "Ugh, no vehicles. Just you, okay, nothing else." Shaking his head, Gambit got to his feet and made for the door. Behind him, Jean and Scott shared a glance, before Scott asked him where he was going.
"Last I checked, mes amies" Gambit drawled over his shoulder whilst leaning on the doorframe. "I ain't signed up for no geography class." With that remark he sauntered off, closing the door behind him. He didn't really know where he was going; just that he couldn't stand to be in that room any longer. This was all Blaze's fault, he though angrily. If she hadn't decided to stand me up for Logan an' his fancy mission, none o' dis would've happened.
"Gambit, how's the training session going?" asked Storm, collaring the Cajun in the kitchen.
"They're carryin' on wit'out me," Gambit informed her, going to the fridge and extracting a can of soda.
"Oh," asked Ororo, "how come?"
"Blaze an' I worked all dat session out," Remy moaned. "Now she's deserted me, Cyke an' Jean jus' takin' over an' they're doin' it all wrong. I ain't gonna sit there like some enfant and let them teach me how to use a map."
It was true too; the training session had been his and Blaze's idea. Admittedly they had formulated it down the pub, using beer mats as buildings and peanuts as cars or whatever. The idea though had stuck with them when sober, and the two friends had approached the Professor with it. A course in urban orientation, he'd called it. Blaze had preferred to call it training for a clean getaway, and Gambit was inclined to agree. Still, it was supposed to be a practical course happening right there on the streets of Bayville, not the theoretical approach being taught by the Grey-Summers partnership downstairs.
"No doubt you're blaming Blaze for going on the mission with Logan," Storm said as Gambit opened his can. "After what Lucas did to her, revealing her most secret memories to all of us, do you not think maybe a mission might be the best thing for her? It's keeping her busy at least."
"I know," Gambit admitted, "but she could've at least said au revoir, non?"
"It's only a recon mission," Storm chastised him knowingly. "She will soon be back, and you can let her know how much you've missed her."
"Huh," Gambit laughed humourlessly. "Rogue dumped me 'cause of what Lucas showed us from Blaze's mind. Rogue t'inks I cheated on her when I did not'ing o' the sort. When Blaze comes back, I be the first in the queue for a quiet word."
"No you won't," Ororo replied with a wry expression on her face. "You'll buy the poor girl some flowers, and you'll tell her that what Lucas did to her doesn't matter. That however everyone else around here treats her, you'll be there for her."
"When did you qualify as a relationship counsellor?" Remy asked grudgingly, crushing the can he held between his fingers.
"You forget," Storm pointed out. "I have already lived through Scott and Jean, and Logan and Ilehana dragging out the inevitable. There is a spark between you and Blaze, Gambit. You should be nurturing it, not trying to deny that it exists. Trust me on this, okay?"
"T'anks for the advice," drawled Gambit sarcastically. It was a defence mechanism, against words that sounded a bit too much like common sense to Remy. He tossed the empty can in the trash and stalked out of the room.
"And next time, remember to recycle!" Storm called after him. With a shake of her head, Storm removed the can from the trash and put it into the recycling instead. She hoped that Logan wouldn't keep Blaze away too long. She didn't know how much of Gambit's moping she could take.