He watched her as she came to bed, wearing the bodysuit Jean had designed for her. It was silky and sheer, made of the same unstable molecules as their uniforms, but it looked better on her than any old uniform. She was covered from toes to throat in shiny black, and he held his arms wide.
She curled up to him in their usual position, her head against his chest, his arms cradling her in his long-sleeved shirt and gloves. He began gently stroking her, and she let him for a few shivery hot moments before she looked up. "Remy? Can ... can you stop for a little bit? We need to talk."
He sighed, but his hands stopped moving on her body. "Oui, chere." His voice had deepened, and his breathing was as uneven as hers.
She cuddled into him, and he embraced her again. "Do you remember that night a couple months ago, when we thought Mama was dying?"
His chuckle rumbled through her body. "How can Gambit forget a beautiful lady throwing herself at him?"
She blushed. She had been desperate for comfort, eager for touch, though it had to be through one of her bodysuits, and thus was even more aggressive than normal. "Uh ... then you probably remember that ... um ... it broke, that last time?"
His arms tightened around her. "Oui," he murmured reluctantly.
"And ya remember that we were gonna wait and see how things turned out?" She couldn't look at him. Gambit's gloved hand tipped her head up. His anxious eyes searched her face.
"Chere, you trying to tell me you're pregnant?" His chest visibly rose and fell, and his mouth hung open. She gave a small smile.
"Well, I am six weeks late now. I should have started it for this month last week." His mouth closed, and he swallowed. He said nothing.
"I know we never talked about it much, but if I am, we need to start thinking about what to do. I guess I need to see the Professor and Beast, so we can see if my powers will hurt the baby. I hope not. Oh, and we'll need to get things, of course. I don't have anything for a child. Oh, and I gotta tell Mama, and Kurt, and all the others ..." She chattered on nervously until a gloved palm covered her mouth.
"Chere. We'll be fine. Gambit take care of you, even if there two of you." He smiled down at her. "Hey, even if there three."
"Don't even joke about that." She shook her finger at him, and he nodded.
"Okay. Nothin' but serious. Four."
"Cut that out!" She pushed at his chest playfully, and he fell backward, dramatically clutching his throat and making terrible gagging noises.
She leaned over him, and he stopped playing dead. "Seriously, are you okay with this, being a father, standing by me, all of that?"
He drew her as close to him as he could without touching her face with his. "Chere, you stood by Gambit in Antarctica, remember? You make sure he get home safe, you take him right to the professor. You get old Charles to help you so you could say you love me instead of abandoning Gambit without a word. And you nearly tear Scott a new one when he say Gambit maybe no good any more. Least I can do, chere, to stand by someone with that deep a love, hein? Most I can do is enjoy you and love you back. And," he whispered, "I do."
"Damn you, swamp rat," she whispered back. "Now I don't get to give you the beating you deserve."
The light of mischief came back to his eyes. "Chere, there other things we can do ... specially now that you're pregnant."