Man, this chapter was a pain to write. It was hard to get the moment and the feelings just right. I think because I'm ready get to the action-y fun stuff. Not that I don't love the Romy romance. Not that this chapter you are about to read doesn't have significance. Nope. I just know what's in store and I'm ready for it. But here it is, chapter four.

Oh. And for various reasons, the rating has changed to T. This will likely change again several chapters down the line. Just so you know.

Thank you all for the lovely reviews.

On a side note: BlueFox, WHERE ARE YOU? Come back. You are missed.

XXXXX

Remy LeBeau had never really been in a relationship before.

Sure, there was that thing with Bella, but that was more of an imprisonment than it was an actual relationship. There were women in his past who he shared a bed with for prolonged period of time. A few other women who he went out on more than one date with. But, now that he thought about it, until Rogue he had never been in a real relationship.

It was weird.

Not the relationship. Well…okay, yes. The relationship was weird but it worked and he liked it. He and Rogue meshed together so well, he didn't put any effort into enjoying himself. Maybe how others observed their relationship from the outside might have some criticism but he didn't care all that much. He and Rogue were weird.

So what?

But that wasn't what he meant in the first place. What he meant was it was weird how easily he had settled in to the whole being committed thing. Even if he would never admit it out loud, Remy LeBeau knew that beneath the black and red eyes, he was a good guy. But Rogue?

She had turned him into a romantic freak.

Really. He wasn't doing all those romantic, chivalrous gestures just because he liked putting on a show. Partly because it annoyed Rogue to an endless degree. But mostly because he liked and wanted to do those things for her.

It kind of scared him, how much he had come to care for the girl with streaks in her hair. Sure, he had been infatuated before. His heart had danced when she finally reciprocated his love (even it was at the worst possible time). When she finally opened her heart to him, he was ready to give her the world. He never thought that he would have fallen so hard so fast. It was scary.

But he was okay with it. More than okay with it actually.

Sometimes, thinking about what a lovesick sap he had become, made him sick to his stomach. It was disgusting.

But still.

Remy turned so he was lying on his side. Rogue was next to him, either sleeping or almost sleeping. He couldn't quite tell. He pressed his hand to her bare shoulder anyway. He always loved looking at the contrast of their two drastically different skin tones. Before he knew what he was doing, he was caressing her slightly. He heard her sigh and he smiled.

They weren't the kind of couple to sleep with their limbs twined around the other. But they were always close. Always touching, even if it was just their ankles hooked together. But on this particular morning, Remy LeBeau wanted to be closer to the girl who had so stealthily stolen his heart. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, happy.

He wasn't saying he wanted to marry Rogue. He wasn't saying he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He wasn't saying that his feelings in the future wouldn't change. But for right now, in this exact moment in time, he couldn't imagine a life without having her in it to call him mean names and slap him on the back of the head.

He really was that far gone at this point.

But Remy LeBeau couldn't find himself minding. Not at all. In fact, he was wondering why he hadn't tried the whole "being in a relationship" thing sooner.

It wasn't that bad.

XXXXX

Some women (okay, most women) would think waking up with Remy LeBeau wrapped around them would be a godsend. And okay, yes, it was pretty awesome. Rogue knew she was lucky. She knew how nice it was to have a warm body pressed to hers. She knew it was as comforting as it was sexy. And yes, okay, sometimes it was really nice to be woken up by Remy LeBeau kissing every available surface on her face.

But right now? She was trying to sleep.

Not to say that his lips against her bare shoulder wasn't a fabulous feelings. As was his arms circling around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. And the way his whispered endearments to her huskily in French? Yeah, that was fabulous too.

But she was trying to sleep. There was also the fact that, unlike in those stupid romantic movies she pretended not to watch, there is such thing as morning breath. And even the infamous Remy LeBeau got it.

Being sexy does not make him immune to stinky breath.

Rogue swatted at him blindly.

"Quit it."

He ran his hand along the curve of her hip. "Roguey, I'm tryin' to be romantic," he complained in a voice that could easily be likened to a distressed five year old.

"And I'm tryin' to sleep."

She could hear him smile. "Did Remy wear you out last night?"

"Shut up."

"Is that a yes?"

"No."

"Admit it."

"Your breath stinks."

He was quiet after that. For a moment, Rogue thought that perhaps he would shut up and let her get to sleep before she had to dash off to a Danger Room session run by Logan in a few hours. Logan, who seemed to have formed an unspoken agreement with the two southerners: have Remy out the room before the others woke up and he won't eviscerate the Cajun.

Sighing softly, Rogue got comfortable in her blankets once more and began to zonk out once more. She felt as if her eyes had just drifted close when:

"You still awake?"

To which she responded by calling him a very explicit name. Instead of being perturbed at her for not only questioning his parentage but also making a very impolite implication about his relationship with his mother, Remy LeBeau pressed his mouth to her shoulder once more and smiled. The arms around her waist tightened.

"I love you, Rogue," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

It made her breath catch in her throat whenever he said that. Because Remy LeBeau was not a man who said that frivolously. Partly because Remy LeBeau was not a man who said that to very many people. Rogue was the only woman, he told her, who he said it to who he was not related to. If he said it to anyone, he truly meant it.

They were not the kind of couple who said it to each other on a daily basis. Not even on a weekly basis. The moment had to be just right for either one of the two to utter those three not so little words. Lifting her tired green eyes, Rogue saw why Remy might have felt so inclined to proclaim his love.

Her room wasn't all that special. A little messy. Their hastily removed clothes thrown on the floor did not help either. But light was streaming in from her balcony from the sun that had not quite begun to rise. Birds weren't chirping because winter was setting in. Most had left for somewhere warmer by now. But the silence was soothing in and of itself. For just that moment, the world seemed still.

The time Remy and Rogue had alone together was very limited. Prolonged alone time was a treasure they rarely got to enjoy. But a moment like this one came around even less. She knew that Remy could appreciate the stillness, no matter how fleeting. Beneath the dancing eyes and naughty smiles, Remy LeBeau was a romantic.

No matter how hard he denied it.

It was not something Rogue had come to accept with ease though. When their relationship first began to bloom toward romance, she had great difficulty reconciling the two parts of Remy LeBeau. The Cajun Casanova and the lover. Even now, she accepted it with more ease but it still baffled her at times.

This whole "being in a relationship" thing was baffling to Rogue, if she was going to be honest. She never hoped that she would be able to touch another human, let alone share a romantic relationship with them. So it never occurred to her what kind of commitment it would be. At times, it was a little overwhelming.

Okay. A lot overwhelming.

Don't get her wrong. She loved every moment she spent with Remy LeBeau...maybe not every moment. He could be a little annoying at times but whatever. Either way, she loved him and being with him. But as they grew closer and their time together as a couple lengthened, Rogue realized how much of herself she was giving to him. How much of himself he was giving her.

It was pressure.

Sometimes she wondered what would happen if Remy realized that he could have any girl he wanted and that she was just a pale, weird, angry girl and would move on to a woman more deserving. What would happen if he grew tired of her. If time caused them to grow apart. What she would do if he wasn't hers anymore.

More often, she feared what would happen if she hurt him. She didn't want to hurt him. She happened to really like Remy. If he was sad, she was sad. What if she dropped the ball? What if she got mad and said something hurtful in the heat of the moment? What if she got so angry, she left him to die in Antarctica?

Okay. Maybe the last one was a bit of a stretch but she was worried none the less.

This relationship business was weird. Because she wanted to be secure enough to give herself to him fully. Because she wanted to keep Remy LeBeau all to herself for as long as possible. She wanted to steal his heart. She had stolen his heart. She didn't want to give it back. She was selfish.

She was just afraid to give him all of hers. And she was afraid of all the responsibility she had since she was holding his happiness in her sometimes gloved hands.

Despite her fears and worries, Rogue turned so she was facing Remy. When their eyes met, he broke out in a wide smile.

Geez, sometimes he could act like such a lovesick puppy.

But Rogue smiled back, because she liked when he smiled. It made her body act funny. Her body always acted funny around Remy LeBeau. She couldn't help but smile at his absurdly handsome face.

She allowed for him to pull her into his chest. Not just because it gave her immediate and easy access to his washboard abs (mmm…washboard abs). She wanted to be close to Remy, even if she was afraid. She wanted to be comforted by his presence, even if in some ways it frightened her. Even if his breath did stink.

He would have to leave soon. That is unless he wanted to have Logan cut his head off, something her pseudo father seemed eager to do. They also had a Danger Room session to prepare for. But until he had to depart, she stroked her fingers absently along the scar located on his pectoral muscle.

She always wondered about it but never got around to asking. She had no intention of ending their moment by asking about it now. Instead, she continued to trace its shape with her long fingers. Instead of asking about the scar, she did the only thing that seemed logical in that instant.

"I love you too, Rems."

XXXXX

Okay. Next chapter the story starts moving, I promise.