Hello! Thank you to everyone for reading! I've been loving continuing to hear from people.
I don't wanna jinx myself here (4th chapter posted in about 10 days) BUT I will say I'm a teacher and it's almost summer and I'm hoping I'll be able to continue to write a lot during that time.
I was super surprised to find when I uploaded the last chapter how close I was to 100k (I'm going off the ao3 count because that doesn't include my author's notes) but that should be this chapter either way and that's super crazy to me? It's also super crazy and awesome to hear you guys enjoying this just as much as me. Thank you for letting me know!
Anyway, 100k in 12 chapters is crazy and holy cow I'm just looking at my outline trying to figure out how long this will actually end up being haha
Thanks as always to thehazeofdusk who beta read and always has great ideas and inspiration for me. I know I write it every time, but I sincerely mean it every time.
Chapter 12She dove for the door, not able to find a reason to argue with him. Not when he sounded like that-it was past anger, past frustration with her. Whatever it was, it was enough of a wake up call for her to realize he was putting his own ass on the line in trying to get her out of there rather than take care of himself and she wasn't about to let him do that in vain.
She tried to look around in the haze of steam and smoke left in the wake of Bobby and Pyro, but couldn't hear or see either of them. Shit. She continued running towards the door, avoiding the gigantic hole Gambit had just made in the floor, trying to get out and yelling for Bobby to follow as she did so.
Another shriek and Rogue struggled to cover her ears, trying to block some of it out, feeling in the process that her attempt was futile.
"Oh, little girl…" Shit. She knew that voice. The Marauder-the one who'd done all the talking at the bookstore. She was standing in the building's open doorway, blocking Rogue from exiting.
Shit.
She backed away, only to feel another body close behind hers. She jumped, still not entirely sure if she should be relieved or worried that it was Remy. Before she could decide, he was pulling her back to the other side of the room, grim determination on his face as he glared at the Marauder, almost yanking her arm out of its socket as he moved them away from the now occupied path he'd originally sent her on.
She looked around, trying to find a way out, before she heard a crashing to her right-a window. She looked back and saw Gambit ducking away, realizing he'd exploded the glass. He grabbed her wrist again, pulling her towards himself and the window just as another shriek sounded, knocking them both into the wall. He had done his best to take the brunt of the hit, which she now understood was Arclight's shrieking, but missed covering everywhere, Rogue's head smacking into the wall.
She grabbed her head, dizzily, and pulled her hand away, not surprised to find blood on her bare hand. She felt sick to her stomach and the world twisted sideways. Every sound made her head hurt worse and although she vaguely heard herself call out for him, it sounded weak even to her own ears.
She remembered hearing her name, panic laced throughout it, and felt shaking hands pulling her closer to solid warmth.
"C'mon, ma chérie. Jus' hang tight. Remy'll get y' outta here."
"John, we gotta go! Get the Icekid!"
She was flying, she thought. But this wasn't smooth enough to be flying. She looked up, noticing her eyes had to open to do so. She closed her eyes immediately, feeling sick. The only thing she'd seen, other than the dark sky, was Remy's determined face above her.
His arms were warm where they held her to his chest, under her knees and around her back.
"Gambit, what the fuck happened to her?" Scott. He sounded furious.
"No time! Get her outta here! To Wolverine! Now!"
Remy's panic was enough to convince Scott, apparently. She felt the loss of Remy's warmth as a different set of hands took hold of her.
"Someone get a blanket!"
"You're doing wonderfully, Rogue. We'll have you home soon so Logan can give you his powers. Stay with us."
"We're home, Hummel. You are going to be fine!"
"Hang tight, kid. Just need you to stay awake a second so you can get my powers."
Rogue sat up, hand tight to her head. She was nowhere near as dizzy as she'd been the last she remembered, but her stomach still churned a little as she moved.
"Careful, there now."
She looked over, blinking as she realized she was back in her least favorite room of the Institute: the infirmary. She winced at the light.
"Yes, I expect the light will hurt for a bit. For now I have a pain killer you can take, but you should wait until you've eaten something first."
Rogue looked up to Hank's kind eyes. "Got anything for my stomach?"
"Ah, nauseous are we?"
She nodded, feeling a little more solid the longer she sat.
"Take two of these. Wait thirty minutes, eat something, then take the pain killers." He handed her two bottles, drawing a giant 'x' on the cap of the painkillers. "I expect you're wanting to sleep in your own room tonight?"
She nodded, trying to get her legs to cooperate as she started to move out of the infirmary bed, momentarily startled to feel lose fabric around her legs instead of the uniform she'd been expecting. She looked down, surprised to find she was in her softest pajama pants and a tank. Storm or one of the girls must have risked life and limb to change her. She'd have to remember to thank them: they could have just left her in her uniform, but this made for less work for her when she got up to her room.
"Well. You've had Logan's powers long enough I'm confident any lingering symptoms are your body trying to reacclimate to using your powers and suddenly not having a pretty serious concussion. Logan says that's the worst affliction to get over."
Figures. She'd gone so long without using her powers and now that she had, she couldn't remember it. "Yeah, I recall him mentionin'." She paused, worried. "Hank, is he -"
"Logan is fine. He reported there was no change in the strength of your powers that he noticed. Nothing different than before anyway."
She sighed in relief, too tired to hide it. Hank smiled at her again as she finally stood, legs feeling wobbly but overall solid. "The Professor and I know how you feel about missing school, but I recommend you stay home tomorrow, even after using Logan's powers."
"I can't miss sch -"
"Decide tomorrow, Rogue. I promise I'll wake you up to ask," he said, his face gentle despite the humor in his voice. She supposed if the guy with a literal education degree was suggestion she should stay home, it might not hurt, but the idea of Principal Kelly deciding it meant she needed to do her senior year a third time still gave her pause.
She tried to give Hank a small smile as she grabbed the bottles from his extended hand and found her way out the door, eager to just get upstairs and sleep off any of the lasting effects her body was feeling.
Questioning himself more and more with every step, he continued moving around the perimeter of the Xavier mansion until he found the spot he was looking for. He wasn't as familiar with the spot as he'd become with her old room, but had made his way there enough recently he didn't need to think too hard to find the right location. Her tree outside her old room was a spot he could find blindfolded at this point and luckily it still helped him now. It was a spot he had increasingly and uncomfortably grown familiar with each week even before officially meeting her.
Her new room took a bit more work and luck. He could vault over from the same old tree and climb from balcony to balcony as long as no one was awake, so the approach was at least the same. He shook his head at himself. It was well past midnight so even if someone was awake he knew he could sneak past no worries. This wasn't sneaking around the Thieves' base or around the Assassin's stronghold-no one was going to come close to catching him, especially considering it was near two in the morning at this point.
He remembered the first time he'd ventured this far-come this close to her outside of battle or teasing her in her school parking lot while he wrangled the Brotherhood boys to go free Quicksilver. To be honest, he wasn't really quite sure why he'd started watching her so closely so often in the first place. He usually just blew it off as a sense of familiarity and curiosity, but when he'd really sat down and thought about it, he'd known it was because she was just so damned lonely. Everyone let her push them away eventually but she couldn't push away what she didn't know was there, he'd mused.
All the same, he felt the same weight in his chest tonight as he had the first night he'd rushed to her room, although this time the weight hit differently-made him ache with deeper pain. The first time had been simple enough. He hadn't been part of the problem. He'd heard Mystique had been up to something and had immediately known it was Rogue. It wasn't common knowledge Rogue was her daughter yet (at least he hadn't known), but the woman was obsessed with Rogue so it hadn't been too hard to guess and that night he hadn't been able to get to the X Mansion quick enough, refusing to think about why he even cared.
Easily bypassing all the security measures, he'd taken a moment to muse to himself that with the amount of trouble the school attracted, they really should fix that. Tonight he noticed the security was better, although not by much. Not by near enough if he could still get in this easily. Not many matched his level of skill, but if it was even possible For him to break in, there was a weakness in the system.
He vaulted up the tree and climbed over to the branch he'd taken up residence on for too many hours to count at this point. He had usually stopped there when he had the desire to check in on her, just watching her window from afar. Although he wouldn't be tonight just like he hadn't that night.
He stared at her old room for a minute. He'd remembered thinking, the first night he'd gone past the branch, how ridiculous the whole thing was. He did not need to be checking on some girl on the other team he'd interacted with maybe twice. He did not need to make sure she was going to be okay or that she had someone with her. He did not need to confirm for himself that she was (mostly) unharmed.
Still, he'd found himself edging closer to the end of the branch, peering into her window and hoping to catch a glimpse of her. The lights had been off by then, he remembered, and all had seemed quiet, but he couldn't quite see her around the wall blocking her bed from his view and suddenly his body had started moving before he could think things through. That night he'd gone past the barrier he'd unconsciously created for himself as he crawled forward on the branch, silently jumping across to her balcony, berating himself the whole time. Why did he care at all, let alone this much?
He remembered he could see Rogue asleep on her bed and, as luck would have it, no roommate sleeping in the bed across the room. Again, the logical side of his brain had tried to question what he was doing and why he had even cared, yet also again he'd ignored that logic, reaching for the handle to her balcony doors. It had been unlocked, he remembered (and frowned. That wasn't safe). He'd hesitated only slightly before turning the door handle a little more, trying to understand what possessed him to be checking on this girl.
They'd met face to face once before and he almost blew her hand off (sort of). Then the other time in her school yard. That was it. Sure he'd kept watch over her from time to time (more than the other X men, he was brave enough to admit to himself), but he shouldn't have been there checking in on her by his own accord.
Sure, he'd been keeping watch over her and her team for several months, but he'd done many jobs like that over the years and never once had he cared enough to check in on the safety or well-being of any of those people. Hell, he'd been watching her teammates just as long and he wasn't checking in on them. Just her. He couldn't fathom why Rogue was different, he just knew she was.
He had been so shocked that night to finally recognize (as he'd stood there like an idiot and just stared at her) that he wasn't just feeling curiosity or intrigued by her anymore. He had been worried. Actually worried. For her. He'd wanted her to be safe. He'd wanted her to not have to be constantly alone or to have people constantly harp on how useful her powers were (feelings he knew all too well). Most shockingly of all, he'd wanted her protected, and he had hated that he was starting to suspect he might want himself to be the one to protect her.
He remembered vividly then turning his attentions outward and looking at Rogue. Really looking at her.
She'd been breathing slowly, her hair pulled back from her face and her body curled into itself. She'd looked so small and fragile, he'd felt frozen in the moment just staring at her with his hand on the door handle. She didn't seem necessarily troubled in her sleep that time. He'd seen her wake up screaming from his branch enough that he'd developed the unfortunate pattern of not being able to leave on those nights until she'd finally found sleep (crying herself there or not) just so she wouldn't be alone. But while she didn't seem troubled that night, even in sleep the exhaustion had been clear on her face.
Even without her makeup she'd looked so incredibly pale. The other big difference, he'd realized, was that without her makeup on he could see the dark circles under her eyes clearly (and a completely adorable splash of freckles across her nose). She had been okay, at least. Maybe a little worse for the wear, but she always managed to move past that, he'd learned. In that moment, a weight had lifted from his chest that he hadn't even realized was there. It had unnerved him, but even worse he'd realized in that moment that pretty much everything about her unnerved him and he kept being drawn to her anyway.
That night he'd slowly taken a deep breath before carefully turning the door handle. He'd quickly reached his hand in the door crack and found the locking mechanism before turning it and snaking his hand back out to shut the door behind him. Logically, he'd been aware the lock wouldn't do much to keep him out, nor anyone who shared his skill set, but it had made him feel like she was a little bit safer and protected (even though the troubles she had were from something in her head and her powers-something no one could save her from but herself) as he'd turned to jump back to the safety his tree branch and head to the base, not allowing himself to stay any longer or he might have found himself actually in her room.
Tonight, for the second time taking this exact route (hopping balcony to balcony when he'd stayed at the mansion didn't really count as the same thing, in his opinion), he hopped off the branch and onto her old balcony, feet landing silently before quickly hopping to the next one and the next as he followed his path, climbing up a floor level where he found an opening to do so and continuing on his way to her new room.
He landed on her balcony porch, regret heavy in his stomach. If he hadn't been such an asshole maybe she wouldn't have gotten this hurt. Maybe he could have gotten her out of there, away from the fight, quick enough that he wouldn't have to continue to give away how desperate he was to keep her out of the Marauder's (and their shared employer's) grasp.
He reached for her balcony door, frowning a little to himself to find it still unlocked. He made a mental note to talk to her about that (especially now that she was in a room all by herself) as he let himself in. He couldn't let her be alone, although he was fully aware she might wake up and kick his ass for being there. He knew she was still pissed at him. In this situation, she had every right. He'd been so damn worried about her, he'd let his own issues with how the X Men run things and how Summers treated her, mess everything up.
He wanted to say he couldn't help it, but he needed to be able to at this point. Maybe Summers had changed in the time since Remy had been watching over their team. Maybe he felt bad for trying to push Rogue to use her powers (unlikely, considering his recent actions). Maybe he wasn't that kid he'd seen in a parking lot a year ago bitching to Jean about how Rogue needed to suck it up and just use her powers for the team and how useful she could be if she just listened to him-an event that had, for lack of a better phrase, firmly cemented Remy's general dislike for Scott. Maybe it was the word useful and how many times he'd heard it about himself, or maybe it was just that he saw Scott was becoming more worried about being a good team leader than he was about his team. Maybe Rogue was right about Scott. And maybe it wasn't his business to push her about it in the first place, not when he knew it was a touchy subject anyway.
She looked just as small and fragile as the last time he'd been in this position, but a whole hell of a lot better than when he'd last seen her, having to leave her with Cyclops and swallow all his resentment towards the guy in the process. The soft splatter of freckles still stood out to him even from afar, from cheek to cheek across her nose, as did the bright pink of her lips. He liked them with lipstick on, but when he looked at how pink her lips were without makeup he couldn't stop the thought that she would manage to be beautiful whatever she chose with her styling.
She still had a giant bruise on her forehead. Even with Wolverine's powers, that still remained, bringing back the sinking feeling in his gut. He'd known how bad the wound had initially looked-he'd heard the crack of her head against the wall, so loud he'd been actually scared to turn and look at her. Luckily when he had, there was blood and bruising, but nothing like what he'd feared in that second when he heard how hard her head hit.
He sat down on his knees in front of the bed as he looked at her, almost feeling out of his own body, and gently swept her hair away from her eyes, a motion he'd become all too familiar and comfortable with doing.
In a way, feeling the softness of her hair thread through his fingers was a comfort. He liked watching the quick blush it brought out in her, liked being able to see her eyes without her bangs intruding. He liked getting to run his fingers carefully over her earrings as he tucked the hair behind her ears. Most of all, he liked that she let him do it. She might flinch a little still, but she still had been comfortable enough to let him touch her that way. He wondered if she ever would again after that stupid fight.
He sighed and sat himself down with his back to her bed, settling himself in and hoping he wasn't about to get punched in the face when she awoke.
When she awoke, it took her a minute to remember why her head was killing her. She probably should have listened to Hank and just taken the damn pain killers. She moved to lean up on her elbow, gingerly rubbing her eyes and turned on her bedside lamp, only to jump and almost squeak.
Even asleep, she wasn't about to give him that satisfaction.
Remy was sitting next to her bed, his back against it and his head bowed like he hadn't actually intended to fall asleep, bo staff extended over his shoulder while his arms rested on his knees. What was he even doing here? She watched him for a moment-he couldn't be comfortable sitting like that.
She tried to sit up, but stopped mid motion, wincing audibly and before she was over the sharp pain her head had just hit her with, she could hear Remy scrambling to stand up, resting his knee on the bed as he leaned down to her.
She tried to wave him off, confused by the whiplash of their fight at school until now. Whether he'd been trying to help her in the battle today or not, the change had not been gradual enough for this to make sense to her. "I'm fine."
He snorted. "That's why y' look like y' gonna puke."
"I do not. I just happen to be tryin' out a green foundation."
"It's beautiful, ma chère," he said distractedly, helping her move to sit back against her backboard.
"Well it is all the rage these days."
"I can see why. Y' look truely ravagin', chérie."
It was her turn to snort. "What happened to bein' pissed at me?" Maybe a little too direct.
She heard him sigh heavily, and she couldn't help but think he looked a little like a lost puppy. She huffed a little in frustration, not knowing what to do really, before patting the bed next to her hips and then promptly finding the way her crossed arms looked very interesting. He sat down almost immediately letting out a frustrated puff of air as well. "Look, I'm bad at this."
She looked up at him, eyebrow raised.
He frowned and looked away from her before meeting her eyes again, the look in his eyes making her heart thud.
"I never...had a friend like this b'fore."
"Yeah, right," she scoffed.
"Yes, right," he said using the covered part of his palm to turn her face back to his as he continued to speak gently. "Not an actual friend. Not one who I trust. Not one who I actually...care about."
She frowned at the bedside table, not able to bring herself to meet his eyes, even if his hand still gently held her chin facing his own.
"This's all new f' me, chère. Don't know how t'handle having' something...real like this in m' life."
Slowly, she looked into his eyes, not sure what to make of that, but also not able to refuse looking at him now that she'd heard how open he was trying to be, how earnest his frustration was in his voice.
"Don't know how t' tell y' the right words, 'specially when I'm mad."
"Doesn't mean you get to yell at me about it." She tried to say it gently, truly, but she hated those words as soon as she said them anyway as well as the way his eyes saddened when she did so.
"I know that, chère. I do," his fingers threaded into her hair, slowly playing with the strands as he watched her carefully. "I jus' got so mad they weren't takin' it serious, 'specially after all I told them. I couldn't believe they sent y' t' school knowing the Marauders knew about y' and I couldn't believe they did all that an' kept y' in the dark."
"What was I supposed to do in my situation?" Again, she put every effort into gentling her voice, not trying to make this harder, but not willing to stifle her own frustrations completely.
He dropped his hand from her hair slowly to the bed, choosing to lean on it as he looked off to the side. "I jus'," he took a deep breath and then looked back to her. "I jus' wanted y' t' be able t' trust me. 'Specially since y' team leaders apparently weren't trustin' y' t' be able to handle this shit." She was very careful to not let on any reaction, knowing he would be scrutinizing her every move. Unfortunately, he seemed to take her silence the wrong way. "I know I don't have the right t' that, an' rightly so. I jus'...wish I did."
She didn't know how to respond to that, words continuing to fail her. He sighed again, frustratedly running his free hand over his face. "Like I said. I don't have the right t' ask that of y' yet. This is just all so new, chère. T' actually care. An' I don't get it but it don't change that I do." His eyes met hers again, looking entirely fragile and confused and altogether like the same look she'd felt far too many times before. It was so unlike him, yet completely like him at the same time. "Y' important." He stopped and started again, his voice more confident this time. "Y' important t' me, chérie, an' I saw y' in danger an' instead of actually talkin' t' y', I panicked an' took it all out on y'. An' I shouldn't've."
She'd known that maybe having a friendship wasn't exactly normal for him, but she hadn't expected him to actually feel as out of his depth as she did. She'd had decent friendships with Kitty and Kurt (with all her teammates really) but even if she'd had a good grasp on those friendships she still felt like none of that was anything compared to her friendship with Remy. So far she'd chalked it up to him technically being the first friendship she'd had outside of family, but now she was realizing she might be the same for him and maybe it went past that, somehow.
Finally (finally) she found her voice, trying to stay confident enough to hold his eye contact without looking away. "You're not alone there, Swamp Rat." He smiled at her, a small smile but a smile all the same, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I didn't exactly react well."
"Hard to when y' being screamed at."
"You don't get to take all the blame, Cajun. Share some with the class." She smiled at him, small and unsure, and was comforted when he actually smiled back at her a little more this time, giving her voice a little more strength. "I ain't exactly happy with how it went down, but you're not either. Still don't fully know why you're upset, but...I'd like to understand. If you help me."
Remy crawled over her to sit his back against the backboard, confusing her. What the hell was he - oh. His hand was held out to her, completely gloveless. He'd moved over in case he passed out from her powers. Because he wanted her to -
"'M not good at explainin', but I want y' t' know the truth. I want y' t' be able to trust this."
She hesitated a moment before reaching out, watching him carefully, shocked to see no hesitation or flinching, and used her sheets to cover her hands before taking his bare hand between both of hers.
"No."
She took a deep breath and continued on before he could misinterpret, something he was already rapidly doing if the deflated look on his face was any indicator. She gently squeezed her hands around his, still not entirely comfortable with the fact that she'd reached out to touch him this time instead of the other way around, before speaking, watching his eyes carefully as she did so.
"The Professor might not tell me everythin' and you might not be able to tell me evethin', but you don't need to do that to tell me."
He blinked at her, his face openly showing not just confusion, but concern over what she was about to say. Like he couldn't predict her right now. She wondered vaguely how much easier life would be if both of them could try to be this open every once in a while and not just after a gigantic fight. Unrealistic, really, given all their baggage, but it was helpful to be able to actually guess what he was thinking at that moment.
"I don't need to use my powers to trust you."
When he didn't respond, just sat there staring at her, she almost continued on, trying to find a way to rephrase, but luckily he beat her to it.
"So...y' jus' gonna...choose t' trust me?"
She wanted to laugh at the disbelieving look on his face, mostly because she would feel the same exact way were the situations reversed. After everything they'd been through, it wasn't like they had a great history for her to base that decision off of or great individual histories with trusting people either. It just...felt right to try, especially when he'd just made a huge effort to be almost completely transparent with her multiple ways just now, something she knew he regularly avoided at all costs. The last thing she wanted was to undermine that with gaining artificial trust in him through her powers. She settled on smiling at him a little (as much as the nervous energy in her stomach would allow).
"Trust with a healthy amount of suspicion make you feel better?"
He nodded slowly, still mulling that over, she guessed, and looked off to the side for a minute before looking back at her again, eyes meeting for what felt like the twentieth time in the last minute. "Why?"
She shrugged, trying not to get lost in his eyes or the warmth suddenly growing there. "We wanna be friends the right way, right?" He nodded again, still watching her closely. "Do you really wanna spend all your time unconscious because the only way I can trust you is with my powers?"
"How'd y' do it wit' the X men? Trust them, that is."
"Just...day by day, I guess. People always slip up and show you who they are. Even Mystique did."
"Helps t' stick around f' that, huh," he said, a self deprecating tone overtaking him.
She flushed. "I shouldn't have said any of that. I was being an asshole."
He smiled at her again, comforting while still managing to have an air of humor behind it, and she found herself flushing again although in an entirely different way. "If y' were an asshole, I was at least three." She felt his thumb rub against her hand through the sheets and she looked down, trying to hide the blush she knew was on her cheeks. She froze as she looked down, then wanted to punch herself as she did so: the gloves had obviously been there to prevent him from needing to talk about it.
The parts of his hands that usually had gloves on them were covered in scars. Everywhere. Like…
...Like he'd blown something up and not let go of it on time. Many times. Gently, she traced over the lines on his hand through her sheets. It was like the scars on his torso and back- some looked old, but some looked to still be healing, or at least newer.
"Didn't always have control over m' power," he said softly, apparently not surprised at all what had drawn her focus. She looked up, still lightly tracing her fingers over his hand as she did so. The look on his face was calm and understanding. "Took me a while t' be able t' touch anyone, anything, when m' powers firs' started, but it happened." 'and it'll happen for you too' were his unspoken words. He looked down at his hand, resting between hers, and she followed suit. He snorted softly. "Don't have as good of control lately either."
"Is that what happened with the pinkish charge today?"
He looked up at her, doing a double take as if tearing his eyes away from their hands.
"The one that blew a hole in the floor." He nodded, jaw tight. She hummed, almost a laugh. "You do go easy on me, don't you?"
He shrugged, trying to save her pride probably. Not that she needed it. She might not have understood why, but she had always kind of guessed after she saw his first real explosion and the damage it did. Anytime she'd fought him, from the first card he handed her, it had never been the same level of damage. Figuring out the colors of the charges and how the yellow turned into gold (and now the magenta she'd seen twice) and corresponded to the strength of the charge had mostly been a hypothesis up until now. The darker the charge, the more power it packed. She'd never seen the pink until just recently though. She wondered if that was just part of his powers growing, or if he was having trouble controlling a growth in his powers (if the scars on his hands were any indication) for a different reason.
"Yeah, well. I know what m' powers can do," he said, pulling his glove back on and leaning back against the headboard with her, bumping her shoulder with his in the process. Her hands felt weirdly cold with his hand gone. "Y' were the mos' interestin' part of m' job. Wasn't exactly about t' maim y' permanently for no reason,"
She rolled her eyes and bumped his shoulder back. "Oh geeze, thanks, Remy."
They both froze and she snuck a peek over at him. He was smiling at her; his real, full smile she'd only seen a few times. He'd smiled at her genuinely before, she thought, but there was a difference between a smile and a huge smile that overtook his face, making him look younger, even more handsome, and completely carefree.
She blushed, trying to play it calm, even though he clearly didn't care to-staring at her with that weird look in his eyes like he didn't have a care in the world. "What?"
"Nothin'," he answered, still smiling, and put his arm around her shoulders, like it was no big deal. She liked how his voice sounded when he had to speak through a smile, she found. She wasn't sure if it was how tired she was or what, but the sudden feeling of calm around them made her feel like she was floating. She sighed, feeling actually content for the first time in a while, and let her head lean back a little, only to come in contact with Remy's very warm, very firm shoulder.
He immediately reacted, apparently thinking she would jump away like she was shocked. She was about to (so he was probably right in that line of thought) but she still was surprised when she felt him pull her into his side a little more snug and leaned his cheek against her hair softly, giving her enough space to pull away if she wanted, but also letting her know where he wanted her.
Was he ever anything but confident? Was his disregard for self preservation that high? Did nothing phase him? Yeah, his neck was covered from his uniform, but if she just shifted slightly he could instantly be knocked out at the minimum. She let out a long exhale, trying to be silent about her need to calm down. Honestly, she wasn't sure if her anxiety levels were growing so fast that she actually felt calm, or if she was literally just calming down from being so close to him.
She'd had just enough time to start panicking (and then to start deciding if it was safe enough to be so close to Remy) when he started talking again. She probably should pull away, but a selfish part of her wanted to stay right where she was. She didn't want to upset the balance they'd just reached by pulling away again and she also wanted to for once let herself enjoy being held. Sure Kitty or Kurt touched her occasionally, but no one had held her like Remy was apparently working to make a habit of.
He never even hesitated. She knew he always kept them both safe with the same awareness of her powers that she had to live with day in and day out, but she never felt like it was a burden or a bother for him to keep in mind like she did with others. If he wanted to take the risk and touch her as often as he did, shouldn't she be okay letting him make that decision for himself when she wanted to let him continue on so much? Would it really hurt that much to try to trust everything could be okay and he wouldn't let her hurt him?
She wasn't sure how long she could have sat there, feeling like a complete goof just sitting next to him (his arm still around her shoulders), smiling. Her face felt so hot and although the need to run away from letting anyone see her emoting was strong, even stronger was her curiosity over what might happen next. But then she yawned.
He chuckled. "Sounds like it's time f' m' girl t' get some sleep."
She frowned a little, deciding she liked it that he couldn't watch her face so closely when her head was on his shoulder. "Not yet," she said. A little quieter, she finished, yawning again. "We haven't gotten to talk for a week." She wondered if her face could physically blush anymore when she felt him smile against the top of her head. "Might need to find some food so I can take the pain killers Hank gave me, though."
He nodded softly and the slight pressure to the top of her head was a relief from the headache she felt building.
"Y' don't got school t'morrow?" he asked, a carefully neutral tone in his voice.
"Hank says he'll wake me up and see how I feel. He said I should stay home though."
"Then y' should stay home."
She didn't answer immediately, choosing to pick at her comforter instead.
"I guess I'd have a lot of homework to do before then if I did go."
"Plus...it's safer here," he said softly.
"I know these guys are a big deal, but I can't just start skippin' school every time things get bad," she said, carefully tilting her head up towards him to watch his face while trying to also let him keep his head resting on hers. "Never gonna graduate that way, and I'm not sure I'd be good at gettin' a GED." she tried to joke.
He sighed, clearly trying to find the right words. "How 'bout y' start y' homework and see how y' feelin'?" It was a giant leap for him, in contrast to the level of upset he'd had last week, and she appreciated the amount of effort he was putting into making a different choice all the same.
"If I do go, are you going to disrupt your life to wait at the school while I'm there?"
He snorted, but that was as close to an answer she was apparently going to get.
"You can't stop everything just to watch out for me, Swamp Rat."
He shifted and grinned, looking directly at her. It was really hard to not smile back when he was looking at her like that. "Oh no. Y' don't get t' go back t' 'Swamp Rat' now, chérie."
"B-I-w-it's what I call you!" she stuttered out, indignant.
He laughed. "And now y' call m' 'Remy' too. Tough shit, chère."
She frowned and wrinkled her nose, deciding to strike back in the only way she knew how. "Hey, Swamp Rat, Why do you call me 'chère' sometimes and 'chérie' others?" she wasn't too familiar with either term's technical definition, but she was smart enough to know there had to be some difference, even if it was as small as the difference between her calling him 'Cajun' and 'Swamp Rat'.
He hadn't been expecting that, clearly. He covered well though and mostly ignored her question when he responded (outside of laughing again) and hopped over her to get off the bed. "Get out y' homework and I'll go get y' some food. Be back quick."
And he was out the door, silent and quick like a cat on the hunt. She laughed a little to herself before getting up to go grab her bag. She'd known how much less fun life was the last week without him, but feeling the difference made it even more obvious. They weren't perfect, hadn't ironed everything out (probably never would), but damn, it just felt good to have her friend back.
Remy LeBeau, exact age unknown, had never in his life felt nervous to put his damn arm around a girl. Until that night it was. It was ridiculous that something he'd done so many times before (hundreds of times probably) had suddenly become so new and nerve wracking. He'd put his arm around the same girl just over a week ago and suddenly tonight, sitting on her bed with her big eyes looking up at him, so wide and trusting, it had felt like his heart was a hummingbird, hammering away as fast as it could.
He made his way to the kitchen quickly, keeping a careful ear out for Wolverine (or the little one) along the way. They were hopefully asleep by now, but he knew the second he his guard was done one of them would be right up on his ass.
He should not be marvelling over this. How many women had he put his arm around? Or kissed, or felt, or...But she'd let him do it and somehow it meant more than any of that. Fuck she hadn't just let him, she'd leaned her head back and let him rest his head on hers. And her hands...she'd traced the scars on his hands so gently with no disgust or awkward questions or anything. Just worry. He wouldn't have expected anything else from her, really, but still her reaction was different than anyone else's so far.
He entered the kitchen quickly, opening the fridge to grab a soda and placing it on the counter before looking back inside for what food he should grab her.
"She likes Cola, not Pepsi."
Remy turned quickly. Ah, the Red Head. She lowered herself to the ground, making sense now why she'd been able to sneak up on him-she'd been floating.
"Thanks," he said, a little begrudgingly that he had to admit to not knowing that. "Any idea what food she'd like best?"
"I know her favorite sandwich. I can show you if you'd like."
Jean didn't wait for his answer, just telekinetically pulled items from the fridge, as well as a knife from a nearby drawer and bread from the counter. He nodded although it was pretty useless to do so by this point, but remained quiet, watching her. Jean was one of the X men he didn't have a lot of extra knowledge about. She'd been a pretty predictable member of the team to watch back when he'd been spying on the team. Pretty though she was, she hadn't held his attention for very long at all-just enough to report a few things to Magneto and turn his attention to more puzzling X men.
"I'm glad you guys made up."
Remy didn't respond, not liking the idea of how obvious it was to her.
"I know she missed you. Even if she was pissed off."
He frowned. "Oh, yeah? How'd y' know that?"
Jean shrugged. "Watching her. She got extra quiet again. It was almost like how she was before you kidnapped her and whisked her away to New Orleans."
"She was different after?"
Jean smiled. "Subtly, but yeah. She was much better. More herself."
"Guess it's good I actually helped her," he said absently, leaning forward onto the counter and watching Jean's motions closely as she made the sandwich. He frowned again. "Thought she told you guys I didn't…" kidnap her, he tried to say. He couldn't bring himself to repeat it. Rogue had given him too much credit.
"She did tell everyone it wasn't a kidnapping," Jean said, watching him closely.
"But not you?" Jean looked down at the sandwich, avoiding looking at him as she shook her head.
"You two ain't exactly best friends," he said, eyes narrowed on the red head. "How'd you get the full story? Cyke? Wolverine?"
Jean shook her head again and had the good grace to look a little ashamed.
"Y' read her mind," he said, suspicion as good as confirmed.
"I did."
His eyes narrowed, a full on glare in effect. "Don't y' Professor have some kinda rule 'bout that?"
Jean blushed, still looking quite ashamed of herself. "He does."
"But y' still read Rogue's mind."
"...Accidentally."
Remy scoffed. "How do y' accidentally read someone's mind?"
Jean frowned back at him, frustration evident on her face and voice defensive. "She was thinking about it very loudly. Kind of hard not to hear sometimes."
"Is it jus' as hard t' not listen?" He knew he was visibly irritated at Jean, but Rogue had so little privacy in her own brain anyway. He didn't like the idea of anyone invading that, let alone a team member.
Jean ripped open the packet of lunch meat with a little too much strength. "Sometimes." She got quiet and then spoke again. "When the person's next to me and pretty focused on something...it's like trying to ignore a shouting match."
"So, basically don't think too hard around y'," he said dryly.
"Well. You don't have to worry."
He raised an eyebrow at her, unsure where she was going with his.
She paused. "There's some sort of static interference every time I try, or something."
Now that was interesting information to file away for later. Partially, Remy was relieved. No one needed to know his business, and no one would want to be around him if they knew. But he also wondered if there was maybe something wrong with him: if more had changed in him than he'd already figured out
"Always been like that?" He asked, his voice the picture of casual indifference and general curiosity.
Jean nodded. "I can't pick up much from you. Never have been able to."
That was good.
"What's 'much' entail?"
"Well. Right now I can't hear too much specific from your actual thoughts, but I can hear enough to know your annoyance is less about privacy invasion in general and more about feeling protective of Rogue's privacy." She paused, then looked at him, a curious expression on her face before she continued on. "And you're upset that I said you kidnapped her because you're worried that's how she thought of it."
He stared at her, not quite sure how to rebuttal. "All of that ain't 'too much'?"
"I mean, to be fair, I didn't need to read your mind to know you got pissed about Rogue's thoughts being violated. Even coming off what I gather is a huge blow out fight, I get the feeling if it was someone else you'd be uncomfortable, but because it's Rogue and she's important to you, you'd be upset about me reading her mind even if you guys were still fighting." She stopped for a second, watching his face. He made sure he gave her nothing to go off of. "I heard pissed thoughts and I heard the sadness and guilt once I mentioned the word kidnapping. Most of the rest of it was educated guesses or confirming what I was already assuming."
He frowned. Was his soft spot for Rogue really that obvious? "Those college psych classes paying off, huh?"
She snorted. "We haven't gotten to that chapter yet."
"Ah, so y' read ahead," he said, trying to steer the conversation away from his brain and his friendship with Rogue. He didn't need Jean trying to figure him out, just as much as he didn't like her reading Rogue's mind without her knowing.
"No, but it's easy enough to figure out if someone just takes five seconds to really watch you around Rogue. You're always helping her. Like when Bobby ditched her with the Sentinels. You didn't have to stay there, but you did. Scott might not see it yet, but I do."
Remy narrowed his eyes, not liking that answer but curious where she was going with this. All the same he couldn't stop himself from feeling like he was falling into a trap as he defended both his actions and Rogue. "She don't need help. She ain't a kid and I ain't her babysitter."
She sighed. "Oh come on, Gambit, you know that's not what I meant. Maybe 'looking out for her' was a better way to say that, but it's six one way, half a dozen the other." Jean rolled her eyes when he didn't answer and looked at him knowingly. "It's not bad, it's sweet. Rogue needs a friend who she cares about and can actually trust. Like really trust. With everything. She has so many people here who love her, but I'm not quite sure she trusts them like she trusts you. She's not a kid and you're not watching out for her like a guardian-that's completely obvious. You're being her friend. That's what good friends do-they love and support each other no matter what."
Remy's eyes flickered down, trying to hide the slight stutter he felt in his chest at the connection between the words 'Rogue' and 'love' in the same sentence. He didn't need to think about that flutter and he certainly didn't need the apparently extra intuitive telepath noticing either.
Remy Lebeau did not love. He was not capable. Friendship, sure, he was beginning to believe he could actually do justice to that with Rogue. But she deserved better than what his 'love' had brought to others. He wouldn't do that to her.
Try as he might, he'd never actually found a love he couldn't let go of. Rogue was different than love. She was something he didn't actually want to let go of. He'd long ago accepted that everything was temporary, but was slowly becoming okay with the thought that kept plaguing his mind: if Rogue had to be temporary for him like everyone and everything else, he hoped she was at least a long temporary.
But there was that word again. Trust. Rogue had said it too, but it was incredibly hard to imagine trusting himself if he were in her situation. Hard to believe she'd said it, let alone that she was open to it with him. The thing that worried him the most, perhaps, was that with Rogue he knew it wasn't naivete guiding her decision. She'd put thought behind deeming him worthy of her trust.
"Kind of hard for her t' really trust me if she still thinks of me as the guy who kidnapped her. Even if she didn't say it outloud," he said softly, unable to stop the words from flying out of his mouth. There was a lot of that going around tonight-with Rogue he'd accept it as necessary to apologize correctly, but it was extra weird saying what he was thinking to Jean.
Jean smiled as she finished making the sandwich, moving to retrieve a plate to put it on. "She does though. Trust you. I don't need to be Kitty or Kurt and be around her all the time to know that. Even if we don't talk as much, I know her well enough to see it." When he didn't respond, she continued on, sounding a little defensive again. "She's important to me just like she is to you...even if she's more important to you. But I know she trusts you. And if she ever falters in that, she at least wants to."
He looked up slightly, unsure if he should believe Jean, but also realizing despite the surface level friendship he'd assumed Rogue and Jean still had, it went deeper than he'd known. He kind of liked that Jean and Rogue seemed to be better friends, just like he was happy to find she'd grown closer to Kitty as well.
"Really," Jean continued on softly. "She does. I just put two and two together and figured out it was a kidnapping. I shouldn't have said it that way. Honestly she was avoiding calling it anything at that point, even to herself."
"Musta been thinking about it that way in the end, though. Can't add things up wit' no numbers in the first place."
Jean paused for a second, looking for the words she wanted and choosing them carefully. "She was thinking about that part of the 'trip', but I promise she wasn't thinking about it that way. She was more...trying to figure you out, I think."
Remy hummed, taking that in as well as the plate and soda from Jean with a nod of thanks.
"Anyway. Logan's still in the garage so your window to get back up to her is larger than normal, but I'd still be quick about getting back upstairs if you're wanting to stay for a while longer. Logan'll start smelling you if you stay down here and since I'm pretty sure you didn't exactly come through the front doors, I'd say lingering might be a bad call."
With that, she grabbed a soda of her own and walked out of the kitchen, leaving him to his thoughts. It didn't feel good, Jean being able to read his friendship with Rogue so well. The implication of it being easy to tell Rogue was important to him scared him-it was bad enough knowing he had no idea how to be a friend, but he knew being his friend put an even bigger target on Rogue's back. If Jean, someone he'd never considered close to Rogue, could figure so much out, what did other people know? Way to be subtle and play things cool, he thought, snorting at himself in frustration.
He wasn't sure what to do about it. Rogue seemed to be the exception to every carefully laid out rule in his life as well as the exception to rules he hadn't even known he'd had, despite his best efforts from the start. At the same time and outside of his safety concerns, he found himself struggling to care if people around him could see how he was with Rogue. He didn't think he wanted to be capable of changing that just to keep up his air of nonchalance about everything.
He opened her door slowly, allowing a smile when he saw her, clearly exhausted, sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, nose buried in her school books. He wouldn't have pegged her as the kind to place so much importance in graduating, but he guessed he could see where she was coming from. She'd done school this long-not finishing probably felt like a cop out. Beyond that, he knew she probably just didn't want X men drama (and by extension her powers) to take something else away from her.
"Someone order room service?"
She looked up and smiled at him, exhaustion clear but cheeks still just as rosy as when he'd left. She took the sandwich and soda from him without comment outside of a grateful smile and began eating while he grabbed her french worksheet. Doing his best to put some effort into his handwriting, he grabbed her pencil, filling it out quickly, despite her protests.
"How'm I supposed to learn if you do my homework for me?" She asked, exasperated.
He chuckled, trying to hide the thought that maybe that was a good thing. If she never studied her French, she might not catch all the slips of the tongue he'd made around her. Asking him the difference between 'chère' and 'chérie' would only be the beginning of him avoiding explaining french terms of endearment to her. It was better left unexplained, although he knew she'd only asked to get him off her back about calling him by his actual name. By the time he'd finished, she was also done eating and grabbed a bottle of pills from her nightstand.
He watched her, the way the light of her lamp illuminated her hair and how strong her bare arms looked, as she took the pills and put the bottle back where it'd been before settling back next to him a little closer than before.
"How much else y' got, chérie?"
She leaned her head back, looking at the ceiling as she thought. "I think that's it, outside of reading. Not sure my head can handle that right now. I got most of it done when I hung out with Pete and Kitty the other day." She turned to look at him and he couldn't resist, yet again, reaching over to brush her hair out of her face, letting his fingers trail along her earrings as he finished the motion.
She smiled softly, probably unaware she'd even done so, and he took the opportunity to put his other arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him a little more snug this time while he carefully avoided her skin. The last thing he wanted was to make all this progress with casual touching tonight only to lose it because he'd not considered her powers enough.
He ran the hand of the arm around her through her hair, not feeling the need to talk, just enjoying sitting there, feeling her lean into him, her head quickly finding his shoulder again. He leaned his cheek against her hair again, feeling a warmth unlike anything else before-it didn't burn through him like during their sparring match earlier (although that was a memory he was curious to look back on later-her hips rolling up against his over and over, completely unaware of what she was doing to him outside of trying to get out of his pin). Instead, it was like sunshine on a warm day, settled all around them.
"Time f' sleep?" He asked, keeping his voice quiet for her.
"Not yet," she said, just as before, yawning again and making him chuckle. She was cuddly when she was tired (at least he hoped it was a normal tired thing for her, not a pain killer thing). She turned her face into the crook of his neck (still covered by his uniform cowl), and he was unable to resist taking advantage of the moment and pulling her against him a little tighter, arm slipping down towards her waist as his other arm rested just above her ankles. Carefully watching her face for discomfort, he pulled her ankles over his lap and adjusted them once more to pull her closer, wondering how much more he intended to push his luck, but in the moment he couldn't stop himself from wanting to hold her as close to him as possible. His heart stuttered when he felt her hand gently rest against his chest, her hand fisting into his uniform to hold on.
"Hey, Remy?" Her voice was tired and adorably sounded like her mouth was squished against his chest (which it was). He hoped his heart hadn't thudded as loudly for her as it had for him when she'd said his name again.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks." For what, he wasn't sure, but all the same he couldn't stop himself from sneaking a very soft half kiss to the top of her hair (trying to disguise it midaction), hopeful it wouldn't be the move that freaked her out.
"Anytime, chérie."
He wasn't sure how long he sat there just holding her, but after the week he'd had, he'd like to think that as long as she was okay with it, he had earned a moment of calm with her-just sitting there and knowing she was safe was enough to erase most of the exhaustion he felt from the past week. He'd hold her just a little longer, then he'd take off and let her sleep in peace.
He'd never had anything like this in his life, outside of maybe his brother and Tante Mattie, where he'd care to apologize and resolve shit. It had always sounded like such an arduous task when the person probably wouldn't forgive him in the long run anyway.
He ran his fingers through her hair, doing his best to be as careful as possible and wishing he'd thought before this about his gloves not being entirely fingerless. He needed to have bare fingers to use his powers, but it couldn't hurt to leave a few covered if he was going to continue to be around her so much. Her powers might not scare him, but they did still scare her. Might be smart to start covering more of his hands anyway: today had clearly shown that whatever they'd done to him, he was definitely not as in control of his powers as he'd used to be.
He pushed that thought aside and looked down at Rogue, smiling to himself. This friendship had been unavoidable from the start-a trajectory he'd been on since he first met her, had first found all their similarities. He'd definitely been uncomfortable with the entire concept, but he was finding at this moment he really didn't mind. Ever since New Orleans he had been minding less and less, he thought, especially when she'd come back for him then.
In this moment, holding her in his lap, gently threading his fingers through her hair, he was distinctly aware of how terrifying this whole situation was; being her friend, someone she could learn to trust. The friendship itself didn't worry him. Once their general stubbornness and rough edges were taken out of the equation, friendship with Rogue was easier than breathing. It wasn't that he was worried about the actual act of friendship as a concept either, just more acutely aware of what a friendship meant now and all the ways he could screw up having her in his life.
Somehow, through all of the ups and downs and back and forth, she had become important to him. Very important. Although he worried that she cut him slack where he didn't deserve it, he wanted to believe Jean was right and he'd become important to Rogue as well. Still, the idea of people knowing and seeing Rogue was important to him (that she felt safe around him) terrified him. Not only could he screw that up and hurt her very easily, but also the added danger it brought to her made him worry he shouldn't be worth it for her.
But despite being aware of all the ways he could mess up their friendship, he was also extremely aware he wasn't willing or able to back off and stay out of her life unless she asked. It was a first for him. He'd always been good at detaching himself and maintaining distance from everyone around him. It was easier that way and he'd always figured life was hard enough, so it was okay to take the easy path when he could. With Rogue though? He couldn't bring himself to create a barrier between them. He looked forward to seeing her, hearing things about her life, and to just being around her in general. He couldn't let that go and he wouldn't unless she asked or it was necessary to keep her safe.
Even knowing all the ways he could screw up, he couldn't bring himself to give up his best friend while simultaneously realizing he'd never had a good friend before, let alone a best friend, outside of his brother. He was way out of his depth here.
And he was so screwed.
"Least you left the door open," The sarcasm was palatable and since he probably knew without checking exactly what the expression on Wolvie's face was as he stood in the doorway he'd just opened, Remy took one more second to soak in how holding her so close felt before finally choosing to look up, still barely startled out of his thoughts as he met Wolverine's glare with an impassive glance. The older man stared down at him and Remy sighed, rolling his eyes, before standing, carefully picking Rogue up as he did so.
"Y' figure out if the Marauders were working alone t'day?" Remy asked as he set her down softly on her bed, careful to not move too fast and wake her.
"Depends. You askin' as an Acolyte?"
"Askin' as someone who's seen what they can do," he said gruffly as he pulled her sheets and comforter over her.
He heard Logan grunt and he looked back to the older man, waiting.
"You kept her safe today."
Remy nodded absently, looking back down at her. That might be as close to a thank you he'd ever get from Wolvie.
"Y' gonna heal her more?"
The older man watched him closely but Remy still couldn't get a read off of what he was thinking. "Tomorrow, Gumbo. For now it's past curfew."
"Wasn't aware visitors had a curfew."
"They do now, Gambit. Go home." Wolverine stopped for a second before continuing. "I'll be in touch, kid. We got some questions and I know you got answers."
Remy nodded. "Y' need t' upgrade y' security system."
"You offerin' to help?"
Remy shrugged walking towards her bedroom door. Wolverine pulled the door shut behind them and gestured towards the staircase.
Remy groaned to himself, hating how this feeling was so reminiscent of times when he'd been younger and caught out with Belle when he shouldn't be.
"Straight to the gates, Gumbo. We'll see you tomorrow."
Remy waved him off as he headed down the stairs, feeling slightly weird once he got outside about not having to dodge any of the security features as he left the campus to get to his bike.
Maybe tonight he'd get a little sleep, he mused to himself as he hopped on the bike and sped his way toward the highway to get to the base.
Hopefully.
I hope you guys enjoyed! I was really excited for the progress/growth this chapter would force them to admit to and I hope you guys liked their first big step together. Hopefully Remy wasn't too open, but considering he almost lost her twice that week and it's 2 am and he's so (unknowingly) smitten, I'm hoping it was natural. Hopefully the fluff helped as well after last chapter's plot and angst fest haha
In case anyone is curious, I definitely headcanon that Kurt has a different nickname/type of nickname for everyone. Rogue is Hummel (bumblebee) because people are scared of them but they're basically harmless and important. Kitty is any word he thinks of with an added diminutive (-chen) to make it cutesy. I was super excited to finally use it in this fic.
So far I think everyone's been good with longer sentences and stuff but if I ever write something and you don't know what it means/what I intended or you want me to start writing out translations I can. I just try to pick things easy to get in context clues that you can translate if you want. German I'm doing mostly from memory. French is mostly google translate and I'm not always as sure of haha
Anyway. I hope you guys have a great day and thank you so much for reading!