Happy Kwanzaa! I referred to DC Comics in this chapter. Hee hee. It was fun to write.
Chapter Six
(11)
"I'm not feeling so good today," Rogue complained to Gambit. "I think I'm sick."
He tilted his head and inspected her with concern. "Fever? Cold?"
"Neither. I just don't feel right."
"Flu?"
"Nope."
"Maybe you're pregnant."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, 'cause Bobby and I totally had goodbye sex right after we broke up."
"What?"
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." She grinned at his stunned face. "Jeez, Remy, it's not fair if you can joke around but I can't." Rogue coughed. "Anyway, I was the little girl who wore a ring on her pinky finger. Of course, I don't wear it anymore, but I still hold onto my beliefs."
Gambit whistled. "Abstinence? That poor bastard. I guess Bobby deserved it."
Rogue punched his arm. "Shut up."
"Oh, are you finally over him, cherie? Thank God."
"I am. But that doesn't mean anything."
"I'm sure it means something."
She ignored him and drew a medium-length rectangular shape from inside her coat. "Here. I want you to read this."
He raised his brows, studying the hardcover graphic novel in his hands. "I lent you music, and you're giving me comics in return?"
"What, you don't like Blackest Night? I think it's pretty good." She was offended.
"I've already read it," Gambit grinned and handed the book back to her. "Sorry, chere. I'm a certified comic junkie. Try harder."
Rogue scoffed. "You've read everything that has Green Lantern?"
"Non, not everything. I prefer the heroes who have actual powers, not just alien power rings." He smirked and studied the man in green on the cover. "He looks a bit like Wade, doesn't he?"
"Who's Wade?" She blinked, baffled.
"That's, um, Deadpool. I've seen pictures of him before his… transformation, and he looks a lot like this Hal Jordan guy." Gambit rubbed his chin, which was rough with dark stubble. "I like John Stewart better."
"You kidding? Hal's my favorite." Rogue started to argue further, but stopped and let her lips curl into a smile instead. "Oh, you're the first person I've been able to have this type of conversation with. Nobody else reads comics—I mean, if you're a mutant, why would you care about fictional superheroes, right?"
He nodded. "True. But then again, why do married women read romance novels?"
They turned to each other, and at the same time, they both asked incredulously, "Then why do you read comics?"
Gambit responded first. "Well, you're the one who lives in a mansion full of mutants."
"Yes, but I took the Cure. You still have powers."
He crossed his arms. "Not all comics feature superheroes, cherie." He reached for Blackest Night once more.
Rogue held her book out of his reach, tucking it away when he scowled and gave up. "Where's Terry?" She asked, glancing around. Instead of their familiar Gambit-respecting bartender, a girl with a shaved head, multiple piercings, and combat boots was serving up the drinks.
"Hope she's just a substitute," Gambit said, watching her stomp back and forth in her torn gray wifebeater and leather pants. "I spent a night with a woman like that before. It was scary and fantastic at the same time." He shuddered. "I'm too afraid to order a drink. My memories haunt me."
Rogue rolled her eyes. "Dramatic much, Remy? Let's talk to her." She waved the girl over, paying no heed to Gambit's visible grimace and the audible wince that accompanied it.
"What's up?" The girl said in a surprisingly high soprano voice as she walked to their usual place.
"Just wanted to say hello," Rogue answered. "Are you Terry's replacement?"
She shook her head. The short fuzz on her scalp was a peachy blond. "Terry's in the hospital. I'm just covering for him until he gets better. I'm Lexi. I'm the owner of Rainbow."
Gambit stopped staring at the shiny silver bar on Lexi's perfectly plucked eyebrow (it was the biggest bar he'd ever seen) and met her eyes. To his shock—and Rogue's amusement—she blushed like an infatuated school girl when he made eye contact. "What happened to him?" He asked, slightly taken aback by her sudden shy interest.
"Oh, well, his girlfriend tried to run over him in her car."
Gambit had trouble stifling his laughter, while Rogue's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, is he all right?" She gasped, clutching her scarf (the one that looked like a small tent, the one Kitty had knitted her at the start of their friendship following the incident with Bobby).
"Yeah, just a few injuries. His girlfriend—or, ex-girlfriend—has terrible eyesight and dreadful aim." Lexi seemed disgruntled by the whole situation. "I think she's the one whose name is tattooed on his bicep."
"Poor Terry," Rogue mused sympathetically. She smiled when she saw Lexi eying Gambit like a piece of meat. He'd definitely noticed, and it looked like he was having horrific flashbacks of the girl he'd spoken about spending a night with. She felt a strange pang inside. "Um, when is he coming back?"
Lexi didn't look away from Gambit, whose expression of discomfort grew more and more uncomfortable by the second. "I don't know. A few weeks, I guess."
Gambit cleared his throat. "Uh, Lexi?"
"Yesss?"
"Could you get me some… scotch, s'il vous plait?"
Her eyes glazed over like doughnuts, boxed up with coffee and ready to be sold to handlebar-mustache cops. "Okay."
"Merci."
Lexi scampered away.
Rogue gave him a look, though her lips curved into a grin shortly after. If he wanted to, he could probably speak in flawless, unaccented English. His French was just a tiny bolt of the many parts that made up the monstrous, complete machine that was Remy LeBeau.
"What?" He returned the smile. "Didn't your parents teach you to say please and thank you?"
(12)
Gambit watched Rogue step toward him, shaking fluffy snow out of her hair and sneezing uncontrollably.
"You okay, chere?" He asked.
"Just cold," she replied. "It's freezing outside."
"Oui, it's pretty chilly this year." He agreed.
Instead of taking her coat off, she pulled it tighter around herself, completely bundled up. "Hey, Remy?" Rogue sniffled.
"Mmm?" He passed her a Kleenex.
"You should move into the mansion."
Gambit froze. "Why?"
She blew her nose loudly. "I never see you around. Everybody likes you, you know."
"I know." He chuckled.
"Everyday, all I hear is, 'Where's Gambit?' They treat you like a celebrity, especially the little kids." Rogue smiled. "Since you came over for the end of the World Series a few weeks ago and ate all the burnt homemade popcorn."
"Well, you convinced me." He grinned. "You should've seen Bobby's face when I hugged you."
She gasped. "I knew you didn't do that because you suddenly became a Yankees fan!"
He put his hand over his heart. "What? Are you suggesting I hugged you to make your ex-boyfriend jealous? Non, I'd never do that. I got caught up in the moment, that's all." Gambit's laughter was husky and deep.
Rogue rolled her eyes, though her heart was suddenly thudding like a drum. "Anyway. Will you move in? Please?"
A smile played on his lips. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" She repeated, irritated. "Remy…"
"I need some convincing, cherie."
She made a face.
Up close, he realized, he could see all of her features in high-definition. Rogue was wearing makeup today, her lashes longer and thicker than usual and her lips a pretty shade of pink.
Why? Was she self-conscious, worried about her appearance? Rogue was the girl-next-door type of chick who usually went around with the 'natural' look and didn't seem to be bothered about her exterior—as if she was perfectly aware of the beauty she was born with.
Merde. Gambit blinked, mentally cracking his steady stream of consciousness into pieces. He knew exactly where his thoughts were going.
"Hello? Remy? Are you alive?"
He flinched. "Oui. What are we talking about? Remind me."
"We're discussing the details on my marriage to Tony Stark. I eloped with him last night."
"Really?" He grinned.
"No, we're talking about whether or not you should get a room at the mansion." She laughed at his honest fascination.
"Right. Convince me." Gambit rubbed his hands together in anticipation, posing like an evil villain, receiving a chuckle from Rogue.
"Well, I hate to play dirty, but… we're having a party tonight, and only the people who live in the mansion get to come."
"Party?" He arched a brow. "What are you celebrating?"
"I don't know—something-year anniversary of saving the world, I guess? Storm may or may not be on drugs. "
"Why wasn't I invited?"
"Well, it was announced during dinner. Anyway, we automatically assume that the mutants who don't live in the house aren't important enough or are total assholes."
"What?"
"Kidding!"
"Well, party or not, I'm not moving in." He crossed his arms stubbornly and smiled.
"Oh, c'mon, Remy!"
"See, I don't believe Stormy would host a party randomly. She's pretty levelheaded—boring, almost. Really calm."
"Levelheaded? Boring? Calm?" Rogue stared at him incredulously. "Remy, it thunders outside when she has PMS. People get fried by lightening when she has her actual period."
"Fried?" Gambit repeated, amused. "I've pissed her off before, and I'm still not crispy. She loves me, that's why. Do you agree, cherie?"
"No, I don't." She rolled her eyes. "But there is a party, for your information. The girls dressed me up." She unbuttoned her coat, even though she was already freezing to death, and shrugged it off her shoulders. Wincing at the frosty air that hit her bare arms, she revealed to him what she had been wearing underneath the thick coat: a slim, shimmery dress, green with a few stripes of white, and intricate fishnet tights.
Gambit's jaw dropped.
"What?" Rogue fingered the hem of the short dress. She knew she shouldn't have worn it, but Bobby—who'd she bumped into in the hall—had been struck speechless when he saw her. At the time, in a rush to get to Rainbow, she'd figured that he liked the dress. Maybe it was the exact opposite."Is it really that bad?"
"No, no," Gambit said, recovering quickly. He gazed up and down her body in appreciation. "Désolé for staring at you like this, but I can't help myself." He grinned so widely that she forgot her own name.
Nonono. No swooning. Wasn't she girly enough for the night?
"Thanks… I suppose." She flashed a smile in return, as if saying, Dazzle me.
Smile.
Smile.
How could two people have a contest that involved throwing each other into a lovestruck daze?
Lovestruck. That was a terrible word to use. Rogue winced internally. She didn't want to think of Gambit that way.
But there wasn't any hope left for her. She'd already started down that path, and there was no turning back.
His smile seemed to know everything.
"Why are you two smiling like that? Are you both children of the Joker?" A familiar voice demanded.
Rogue nearly threw herself at the unexpected newcomer, she was so relieved to get away from Gambit's alluring grin. "Terry!" She exclaimed. "You're back so soon!"
He shrugged, lifting his right arm a few inches in the air. It was wrapped in hardened gauze and stuck in a sickly blue sling. "Just broke my arm and got a few scratches. Guess I won't be cleaning the counter any time soon. Did, uh, Lexi tell you what happened?"
Gambit stood up. "Glad you're back, mon ami. And yes, Lexi told us. Your girlfriend—Siobhan, right?—tried to kill you."
"Yeah. She really just swerved and missed, though. I jumped out of the way and got this." He pointed to his cast. "Smooth, huh?"
"Very." Gambit's eyes and attention returned to Rogue's body. He groaned. "Ugh, I can't do this. Put your coat back on, cherie. Please."
Terry jumped a couple feet in the air when he finally noticed Rogue's get-up. "Holy shit!"
Gambit nodded in agreement. "That's what I was thinking."
Terry started to foam a bit at the mouth. "Uhhhh…"
Rogue slapped her forehead with her palm, blowing a strand of hair out of her face with a huff. She pulled on her coat, buttoning it all the way up to her neck. "Testosterone freaks," she said dryly. "You guys are supposed to be adults, not horny teenagers."
Secretly, she was flattered.
Terry cleared his throat, embarrassed. He, like Gambit, was also older than her, yet obviously not as mature. "Sorry, Rogue," he apologized, deciding make a hasty dash for his precious counter. As he shuffled away, his face was beet-colored—more purple than red, and definitely unnatural.
Gambit got down to business once their bartender was out of the way. "Okay, let's make a deal, chere. I'll move into the mansion if you… if I, uh…"
She raised her eyebrows. "If…?"
"…if I get the room next to yours."
Rogue blinked. His offer sounded surprisingly sensible. "Sure."
He grinned, not yet finished. "…and if you let me stick a poster-size photo of you in that dress right above my bed."
She stared at him. "No."
"Oh, cherie, please? Your picture will keep my nightmares away." He glanced innocently at her (covered) outfit. "Or would you prefer to keep me company yourself? You're the real thing, after all."
She buried her face in her hands. "No! You can have the damn picture."
"So, what you're saying is, you want me in your house but not your bed?" Gambit concluded.
Rogue sighed. "Yes, you've got it perfectly."
(Lies!)
I watched Tron half an hour ago. Amazing graphics.
Anyway, there will be one more chapter for this story. It's short, I know, but I've got another fic in mind.
(IT INVOLVES DEADPOOL AND LOTS OF ROMY.)
Thanks to courtneykutie, angel897, EnglishRose28, My Beautiful Ending, ChamberlinofMusic, RoguesLove22, lilacgardens12, Chellerbelle, Madame Morbid, and the anonymous "|" for reviewing. Much love to you guys.
:D
CLICK IT. NOW. THAT BUTTON LIKES YOU.