Just to warn you, I can't do a Russian accent.

Heat

"No, yah can't make meh! Why does Bayville have tah be so damn cold?" Rogue complained as she shivered over a mug of coffee in the kitchen. She was wearing a thick green top, and thick dark trousers.

"Like, you should try being in Chicago in the winter, Rogue. The wind is awful!" Kitty replied from across the table. Rogue couldn't believe the girl was only wearing two layers of clothes. She herself was wearing four.

"Andvinter inn Russia is much colter. Ve are vell bellow freezink point." Piotr was defying the weather by simply turning into metal. He wasn't warm, but neither was he cold.

"Non, chére's righ'. Winter up here is bloody freezin'." Remy, the only other southerner to stay at the mansion for Christmas, was wrapped up just like Rogue.

"Well, you should still come and have a snowball fight with us." Kitty urged Rogue, getting back to the point of the discussion.

"Ah would if yah could think of a way tah make snow warm. Y'all go an' enjoy yahselves." Rogue replied, taking a gulp of her coffee.

"Gambit? Vill you komm, comrade?"

"Non, merci, Pete. Remy fids dis weather far too cold t' go outside, let alone have frozen water t'rown at him." Remy shuddered dramatically. And so the two southerners were left alone. They could dimly hear the shouts from outside, where Kitty, Piotr, Bobby, Amara, Jean and Scott were having a vicious, powers inclusive snowball fight. By common agreement, the two moved to the warmer rec. room. According to Remy, however, it was still too cold to sit on separate chairs, so they shared the couch. The TV was full of cheesy Christmas movies, so it stayed off.

Time passed, and Rogue found herself curled up next to the Cajun. He claimed to be cold, but she felt heat exuding from him. She put her arm over his chest, and he turned to look at her, cocking his eyebrow.

"What y' doin', Chére?"

"Yah warm. Ah'm cold. Deal with it." Remy grinned, then quickly moved away from her, to the end of the couch.

"Hey! Get back here!"

"Non. Y' want warmth?"

"Of course! It's bloody freezin'!"

"Den give Remy un baiser."

On the plus sahde, Ah'll be warmer. On the down sahde, Ah'll have tah kiss him…or is that a down sahde…no! Bad Rogue! On the plus sahde, he'll be unconscious. Which means he won't be talkin'. This deal is lookin' bettah an' bettah. An' not just 'cause Ah'll be kissin' Remy. Shut up, stupid brain!

"Fahne, Ah'll kiss yah. But yah do realise it'll-"

"Knock Remy out, oui, he knows." Remy slid back down the couch to where Rogue sat, and pulled her onto his lap.

"Hey! Ah didn't agree tah this!"

"best way t' kiss on a couch, chére." He smoothly informed her, then touched his lips to hers, then took them off. Touched again, then drew back.

"Remy, what are yah doin'?" Rogue asked, denying how nice it felt to have his lips on hers, if only for a second or so.

"Y' mutation only kicks in if y' touch someone f'r over dix seconds, righ'? Well, Remy figures dat if he only touches y' f'r a few seconds at a time, he c'n kiss y' wit'out gettin' knocked out, non?" Rogue rolled her eyes.

"No, Swamp rat. It don't work lahke that. If yah keep kissin' meh lahke that, it'll just build up tah ten seconds."

"Well, in dat case…" And then he pressed his lips to hers, getting as much out of his ten seconds as he could before…he slumped unconscious over the back of the couch. Rogue sighed, glanced quickly around to check for passing people, and then grinned widely. She pushed Remy down so he was lying along the length of the couch, and curled up next to him.

Wow, he's a good kisser!