"Merde." Remy groaned, turning over and finding himself constricted. His instincts kick in fullforce and he starts thrashing like crazy against whatever was restricting his movements, his foot burning, his hands groping around until he finds something to grab on to and charges it as his eyes open and he prepares himself for the blinding light.
The dim lights.
And the hospital room.
With dim lights?
The insufferable thing constricting him was a blanket. Powder blue. The worst type of blue.
In his hand? The bed. He uncharges it so he doesn't end up blowing himself up.
Essex? Didn't smell like it. Like rot and blood underneath a thick cloud of cleaning chemicals almost threatening to suffocate him.
He looks around and grabs a test tube to charge. Just in case.
"Ah, young Mister LeBeau. I see you've woken up."
A big furry man—not powder blue, but a deeper and slightly better shade. Dr. Henry McCoy, formerly a teacher at Bayville High, old friend of Professor Xavier, now a "professor" and unofficial physician of Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Formerly Bayville's most wanted before all charges were cleared, thanks to Xavier's big wallet. A physical mutation with enhanced senses and animalistic tendencies, with an IQ off the charts, and a pacifist unless pushed.
It was Remy's job to know these things. Or Gambit's old job to memorize the files.
"You had quite a nasty crash, Mr. LeBeau." Dr. McCoy said, approaching him with a friendly smile. Remy relaxed in the presence, probably from his empathy reaching out to the blue man and calming him once it deemed Hank a non-threat. He had expected it, but it was a habit he didn't plan on breaking any time soon. Which is probably why he was always so wary of strong telepaths. They hid their emotions as well as their minds.
"Remy don' crash. T'ieves are like cats. Dey always fall on dere feet."
"And you would have been as graceful as one, too, had your head not hit the balcony beforehand. You did land on your feet, however. And in turn you've sprained your ankle."
Ah, the pain in his foot. Yes.
"How bad is it, doc? 'S Remy gon' live?"
"Well you would certainly anger a certain Rogue if you didn't manage to live through this. Gave her quite a panic."
"She de one who pushed me in the first place." Remy snorted. That crazy woman. Not nearly as insane as Bella, thank God.
"Women are indeed one of life's ever complicating mysteries."
"Women—dey easy t' figure out. Rogue..." Remy sighed happily, "She une complicated fille."
Hank chuckled. Young love.
"No need to worry about your health, Remy. In fact, other than that bruise you're sporting on your head, your health is impeccable." A small whoosh signified the opening of the automatic doors, "Oh! Speak of the devil, and ye shall appear." Hank said, taking his leave as Rogue entered.
"Chere, y' come t' take care o' poor Remy?" Remy asked, not allowing himself that small bud of hope that she actually was here to take care of him, other than to just assuage her guilty X-Man conscience.
"As if." She blushes, leaning on the wall beside his bed. He allows the bud to grow.
"Regardless o' de reason, chere, Remy got somethin' he needs t' tell y'."
"Really?" She looks around nervously, avoiding eye contact, "Cause you said a lot up there already."
"No need t' worry none, ma belle fille. No world changin' confession jus' yet." He grinned teasingly, "Jus' have t' tell y' dat Remy be goin' on a little vacation fo' a bit. Got some business dat he needs t' do, and dat if he don't show up in a week o' deux y' don' need t' worry none. "
"Vacation?" Rogue's blush was taken over by her anger, "Where the hell are you runnin' off to?"
"Official business." Remy saluted her, "Remy swear. No funny stuff 't all. Won' even make a big t'ing outta where he stays. Dirty motel rooms and fast food be all he gon' take."
"Lahke Ah care what ya do." She huffed, but he felt a bit of relief coming from her all the same.
"'Course y' don', chere. Well den," He sat up, testing his motor functions and then standing once he found everything was working in order, "Guess Remy'll dress and go."
"What? You're leavin' already?" The bud of hope blooms into a very large and very happy flower at that look of surprise and... sadness, he hopes, in her eyes.
"Well dat's all Remy had t' do 'fore he left. 'Less y' want him t' stick around a bit more."
"Ah don't care. Leave. Whatevah." She pouts, and Remy finds her absolutely adorable. And he's never thought that about anything. He laughs at little kittens, children, stuffed animals, and everything else that everyone always says is cute.
"Don't worry none, chere. I'll be back 'fore y' know it. Actually, dat's jus' a figure of speech. Remy'll prolly be gone for a long bit. Not gonna ask y' to wait up for 'im or not'in'. 'D be stupid o'me t' t'ink y' would 'f I asked, anyway. Jus' don' rush t' f'get me."
"Stop tryin' tah sweet talk me and go, Cajun." She huffs.
"Does dat mean 's workin', chere?"
Rogue glowered at him.
"I'll be takin' my leave, now."
And when he came back, they could finally be together.
"So how's the bet going?" Fred asks as Pietro zips in through the door.
"Go eat your weight in burgers."
Todd snatches a burger before Fred makes good on the suggestion.
"Yo, Pietro." Todd says as Pietro pouts on the ratty sofa.
"What, snot hair?"
"I was thinkin', 'bout that whole bet and all."
"Yeah?"
"How abouts we just call it off?"
Pietro raises a lazy eyebrow and glares.
"Really? And what brought that decision on?"
"Well," Todd started, leading into a flashback that Pietro would only skim the details of.
Rogue didn't know what exactly Jean had ever seen in Duncan, but Rogue had seen enough to want to throw her breakfast up all over him. True, her breakfast was a cup of coffee. Black, of course, like her soul. But that didn't mean that throwing up on him would be any less effective in terms of how unbelievably disgusting it would be. By then it must have mixed with all her stomach juices and would have gone from a dark brown to a murky brownish looking thing. Just like how she felt whenever she saw him.
No wonder Jean went for Scott and crushed Rogue's hopes and dreams with that move. The alternative was a jerk.
"Hey, why don't ya pick on somebody with yer own brain capacity? A fly, maybe?" She asks once she sees the dumbass and his other jock friends cornering Toad against the wall.
"Back off, freakazoid, unless you wanna join your mutant buddy in our redecorating of his face."
"Ya welcome to try! Ah'll take ya, both gloves on!"
The jocks exchanged glances. They heard the rumors. That she did more than just look like a vampire. She sucked the life out of you like one, too. What kind of name was Rogue, anyhow? The name of a loose cannon, that's what.
"Yo, not so tough once my girl's around, huh? Like to see you try and stuff her into a locker without getting' your asses whooped, man."
"You shut up, slimeface!" Duncan grabbed Todd by the shirtfront and slammed him from the wall into the lockers.
"Hey! Lay off, jerks!" Rogue yelled, her fists clenching at the sides.
"Why don't you make me!" Duncan yelled in retaliation.
"Maybe Ah will!" Rogue gave Duncan a swift punch to the face at the word, 'will'.
"Ha!" Duncan yelled, stumbling back and holding his hand to his jaw, "That didn't hurt at all!" Duncan winced, "You hit like a five year old girl!"
"Ah know. Ah've always been more powerful with mah," She did a spin kick to his chest and he went flying into the wall with a thud before going down in a tangle of limbs, "legs!"
She gave the group of losers a smirk, "Anyone else wanna have a go?"
They gathered Duncan and ran off like frightened animals.
"Thanks, Rogue. I owe you one, man."
"Whatevah. Just try not tah get cornered by the loser crew next time."
"Hah. Loser crew. That's what we call you guys." Toad laughed, not remembering that it was an insult, and that people were likely to be offended by it.
Rogue was not impressed.
"I mean, thanks. Yeah. I'll just be going now." And so he hopped away.
"She is nice, isn't she." Fred nods along to Todd's story.
Pietro just thinks. Honestly? He hadn't even been thinking about the bet outside of the Brotherhood Home, and Rogue saving Todd from the mindless buffoons doesn't surprise him much. She is an X-Man, through and through, and it isn't that big of a risk, going up against Duncan of all people.
But she is an X-Man, and that thought really hits home. Not that he's guilty, or anything. He's done worse to more people for less of an incentive, except he doesn't have his daddy issues to blame anyone for this. Hell, the parental issues the two of them have should have been a reason to get close to her just because they were in the same boat, not to use her for... hell, he didn't even remember the terms of the bet anymore.
Did he... Like her? Skunk girl, with uglyass makeup and even uglier ass shoes?
Although he didn't mind the miniskirt much.
And she did switch in purple eyeshadow for black cats eyes during the past years, and that was a little attractive.
Okay, so the bet was over and done with and he wanted her just, well, because. He already has a scary-ass Goth sister, might as well have a violent-ass Goth girlfriend.
He just had to make sure she never found out about the bet. Ever.
So he just had to shut up Lance, the whiny brat he was (nothing like Pietro at all,) and everything would be good.
