Disclaimer: I own nothing here, which is a shame because I'm sure Remy LeBeau could fix my broken heart.
Chapter 13
"I think you should go with the blue one."
"No, blue is definitely not your colour."
Rogue was not happy.
She had been on edge from the very moment she had agreed to go on a date with Remy, and her so called friends were not helping.
She had been hoping to finish her Shakespeare essay that afternoon but had no such luck. Not only had she been unable to concentrate on anything, but Emma and Jean-Paul would not leave her alone.
They had hounded her all afternoon, asking her what she planned to wear and how she planned to do her hair. Rogue had not even thought about it, she had never been on a date before and she knew without a doubt there wasn't anything in her closet that would be suitable. All she had thought about was the fact that she was going to have to sit opposite Remy all night and think of things to talk about.
Without getting tongue tied or sounding stupid.
Their previous interactions had always been spontaneous, there had been no pre-planning and it felt completely natural. But the longer she thought about sitting in a restaurant with Remy, the more nervous she became.
Which was why she was currently hurling everything she owned out of her closet and trying very hard not to hyperventilate.
"It's far too baggy" Emma was still talking as though she hadn't noticed Rogue's internal struggle, which couldn't be true because Rogue was sure she was screaming inside. "You need to show off that knock out figure."
"No, we need to choose the colour first" Jean-Paul disagreed, holding up one of her combat boots and inspecting it as though it was a battered trainer. "That blue is completely washing her out."
"Would you two just stop!" Rogue cried, finally snapping, and throwing a fist full of clothes onto the already mountainous pile now covering the majority of her bedroom floor. "I ain't bared skin outside this room since I was fourteen years old, what makes either of y'all think I have anythin' to wear on a goddamn date!"
Jean-Paul looked shocked but Emma looked mildly amused.
"Relax, Rogue" Jean-Paul said, holding his hands up as though he was talking to a frightened and injured animal. 'We're just trying to help."
"Well you ain't!" Rogue bit out, running her hands though her flyaway hair. "Mah hair's a mess, I ain't wearing a scrap of makeup and to top it all, I ain't got nothin' to wear that ain't gonna make me look like an old maid!"
Her accent had thickened in her anger and her panic, but she couldn't help it. As much as she tried to deny her feelings for Remy, she did like him.
"Well it's a good job I came prepared then."
Rogue turned to glance at Emma, who was pulling an expensive looking powder blue paper bag from behind the chair she was sitting in. She held it out for Rogue to take, eyebrow raised.
Rogue took the handles and peered into the bag, buried under the billows of white tissue paper was a scrap of green material. /
She pulled it out and held it up in front of her.
It was a dress.
"Emma, what's this?" Rogue asked.
"What does it look like?" Emma smiled; her eyebrow still raised.
"Green isn't your colour" Rogue accused.
"No" Emma agreed, "But it is yours."
Rogue felt a swell of affection towards her friend, it clogged her throat and dampened her eyes. She opened her mouth to thank her but couldn't seem to find the words.
Emma nodded as though she understood.
"Well, go and try it on then!" Jean-Paul clucked, waving his hands at her.
She smiled and ducked into her bathroom, stepping out of the offensive blue jumper dress she had been wearing and sliding into the slip of fabric.
It whispered against her skin.
She turned to look at herself in the mirror. The dress was emerald silk, the straps were thin over her toned shoulders and the fabric fitted over her body like it was made for her. It cut into a v shape, exposing the briefest glimpse of her cleavage, just enough to be a flirt but not enough to be too obvious. It ended halfway down her calf, but the slits cut all the way up to mid-thigh.
It was the most beautiful thing she had ever worn.
"Emma" she said softly, stepping out of the bathroom and holding her hands to her face. "It's gorgeous."
"No, Rogue" Emma shook her head, "You're gorgeous, the dress is just grateful to be touched by you."
"As is Remy" Jean-Paul added.
"Ya'll know I can't wear this."
"Why not?"
Rogue rolled her eyes and gestured to her bare chest, "Lethal skin" she pointed out.
"Oh, we'll get you a jacket, a scarf and some gloves" Emma said, waving away her concern as though it was nothing. "Now come over here so I can do your make up."
"Besides, it's not lethal to Remy" Jean Paul pointed out as Rogue sat hesitantly beside Emma, eyeing up the four sets of false eyelashes she had laid out apprehensively.
"What about tights?"
"No one is going to accidentally touch your legs" Emma said dismissively, "Now hold still, I don't want to smudge."
She was holding a makeup brush up to Rogue's face and it appeared she meant business.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Rogue asked, making herself cross eyed as she tried to follow Emma's progress with the brush.
"Just trust me."
An hour later, and Rogue had to say that Emma was right.
She had only glanced at herself in the mirror before leaving, not wanting to lose her nerve by seeing how different she looked. It appeared however that Emma had chosen a natural look for Rogue, for which she appreciated. The only difference was the kohl that highlighted and brightened her eyes and the red that enhanced her lips.
Her hair had been styled into an elegant knot that fell in a cascade of curls over her left shoulder and she wore a delicate silver wrap over her arms. She was also wearing white opera gloves that finished just below her armpit. Emma had tried to talk her out of it, but she wasn't quite brave enough to go out with bare arms.
Even if the person she was going out with could touch her.
Remy was stood at the bottom of the staircase waiting for her, and he glanced up the moment she appeared at the top of the stairs as though he sensed her there. He tracked her progress as she moved towards him, careful on the thin points of her stilettos as she made it down the stairs. His intense gaze was making her feel a little hot, so she was glad of an excuse to look at her feet.
He still hadn't spoken when she finally reached the bottom step, so she raised her gaze to look at him.
His eyes were practically glowing as they fixated on her face, drinking her in as though she was water and he was dying of thirst.
"Yo' look magnificent."
She blushed, hoping inwardly that Emma had covered her face with enough make up that it wasn't the same colour of her lips right now.
"Thank you" she said quietly.
He took hold of her gloved hand, "Car is out front."
She nodded and allowed him to tow her along, unable to find her voice to say anything. She was inwardly glad there had been no one in the lobby to see their departure, as she wasn't sure her nerves could have taken the strain of conversation with another person.
Not that there was much conversation happening between the two of them.
The car ride was completely silent, and perhaps even a little uncomfortable. Remy had stumbled slightly when he reached to open the car door for her, and it seemed that he hadn't quite recovered his usual smooth demeanour. His fingers tapped anxiously against the steering wheel and every so often he would glance at her as though he wanted to say something.
She stared straight forward, unable to think of a single thing to say to him.
It was not a brilliant start to a first date.
Rogue was relieved when they finally reached the restaurant, glad of the chance for a moment alone as she stepped out of the car.
Remy dropped the keys as he attempted to hand them over to the valet, apologising profusely. It gave Rogue a moment to glance at the exterior of their location.
It was a beautiful building made of freckled grey marble, with huge, long windows and revolving doors. Remy reached for her hand again as she hesitated and towed her into the building, which was even more impressive on the inside.
A suited-up Maître D' led them through the restaurant to their table, past the plush seats filled with diners wearing wrist watches worth more than her car.
Rogue swallowed as he held her chair out for her, tucking her under the table so tightly she wondered if he was preventing her exit should she try to escape.
"A bottle of Dom Pérignon f'r the table please" Remy said to the waiter.
"Oh, wait-"
The waiter had already disappeared before she could say anything.
"Don't worry, chere" he said softly, smiling at her over the table. "I can afford it."
"Right" she said, raising an eyebrow and wondering why Remy had suddenly been replaced by an entitled little rich boy. "Only, I don't like champagne."
Remy's smile slowly deflated before he managed to recover himself, "Not t' worry petite, yo' order whatever yo' like."
Rogue returned his smile tightly before disappearing behind the menu. Their setting was quickly making her uncomfortable, and the charming Remy she had always known seemed to have disappeared.
She wondered if he thought she would be impressed by their setting and him splashing his money around. Yes, she might be best friends with Emma, who certainly had expensive taste and probably liked to dine it places like this. But Rogue found herself feeling slightly insulted that Remy might think she would be impressed at all by flashy things.
The waiter reappeared, holding a bottle of champagne and a white linen cloth folded over his forearm. He poured the bubbly liquid into two crystal champagne flutes without asking if Rogue would like a glass, before smiling down at them.
"May I take your order?"
She lowered the menu ever so slightly to see that Remy was gesturing that she should take the lead.
"I ain't quite decided yet" she said lightly, "Could I have a moment?"
The waiter looked surprised, probably due to the fact there couldn't be much deliberation required between the three choices on the menu. However, he smiled politely and melted away into the crowd as she requested.
"I could order f'r yo' chere" Remy said softly.
Rogue's eyebrows pulled together, "No, ah don't need yah to order for me" she said firmly, placing her menu down on the table and wrapping her shawl tightly around herself. "I'm real sorry Remy, but I'm leavin'."
"Wait, what?"
But Rogue was already out of her seat and halfway down one of the aisles before Remy seemed to have realised what had happened. He jumped up and followed her, catching her on the arm just as she made it into the foyer.
"Chere, what's wrong?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
"I'd just like to go home please" she said, feeling more self-conscious by the minute and pulling her shawl closer around herself.
"Yo' regret agreeing t' go out with me" he said, it as a statement rather than a question, and his tone was full of hurt.
"No!" she said quickly, feeling terrible that she might have hurt his feelings. "It ain't that at all, Ah just feel so uncomfortable here surrounded by china worth more than my yearly salary and all this skin exposed." She gestured hopelessly at the pale skin of her chest.
Remy watched her, his expression completely blank and unreadable. She was sure she had offended him and that was the last thing she wanted.
"It's my fault" she said quickly, "I ain't never been on a date before, an' I shouldn't have let Jean-Paul and Emma get carried away. Should have worn somethin' comfortable and suggested a movie or something."
Rogue could not bear to look at him anymore, so she moved her eyes to the plush burgundy carpet.
She felt his fingers under her chin, "Yo' ain't never been on a date before?"
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
"Chere, I'm sorry" he said sincerely, holding her face carefully with both if his hands. "Was so busy tryin' t' impress yo'" he shook his head, "Shoulda stopped t' ask what yo' wanted."
"Remy, it ain't your fault!" she said quickly, "I'm sure most girls would love all this."
"But yo' ain't most girls" he said, his eyes were warm, and she felt herself growing hot under his intense gaze. "Should o' remembered that."
"Mr LeBeau" Rogue hadn't noticed that the waiter had come to stand tentatively beside them, twisting his hands together nervously. "Is everything okay."
"S'fine, Peter" Remy said, his eyes not leaving Rogue's. "Charge de bottle t' my card."
"You can afford it" Rogue teased, smiling as the waiter nodded and style="mso-spacerun: yes;"
Remy grinned, "Let me take yo' someplace else, chere."
"Don't cha jus' want to head back?" she asked, wondering if there was even anything left to salvage of this evening.
"Chere, I got a reputation to uphold" he said, taking hold of her hand and pulling her out of the door. "Can't have yo' tellin' people our date was a disaster."
"Well, okay" she agreed, as he handed the valet his ticket. "But no more places with valets."
"Don't worry chere, I got yo.'"
They ended up in a dark, backstreet bar that she was sure Logan would not have felt out of place in. She had felt a little self-conscious at first, wearing opera gloves in a place where her combat boots would have fitted in better. But Remy had commandeered the juke box at the back of the room and racked up a game of pool for them to play.
Eventually Rogue felt so comfortable that she had ditched both the gloves and her heels under a stray table and had vowed to beat Remy at pool.
"Now, that's more like it" Remy commented from where he stood, racking up the balls at the head of the table. A barmaid had appeared with two baskets of steaming French fries and chicken wings.
It looked much tastier than anything she had seen on the menu of that restaurant.
"Emma's gonna kill me if I get grease on this dress" Rogue said as she reached for a French fry from the basket.
"I'll buy you another one" Remy said, waving his hand easily as he eyed up the balls on the table.
"Right, I forgot you were a rich boy" she teased.
He physically cringed, "I ain't usually so obvious."
"I'm sure it works for a lot of girls" she said, accepting the pool cue from him and bending over the table.
"Surprised yo' ain't asked where I get my money from, chere" he commented, leaning against their table and taking a sip of his bourbon.
She glanced up, considering her answer. "I ain't real interested in yoar money, Swamp Rat" she told his finally, shooting for the balls and potting the red. "I'm more interested in the person you are."
"My money is part of that."
"Maybe" she agreed as she potted another ball easily. "But not the most important part."
She placed the cue back on the table and made her way back over to him, about to reach past him for another French fry as she grinned at the warmth in his eyes.
When suddenly there was pain, pain so intense she couldn't remember feeling anything like it before. It stung in her abdomen, radiating through her like poison spreading from the sting of a wasp.
The last thing she remembered was Remy's pale face and terrified eyes, dashing forward to catch her as she fell into nothingness.