Disclaimer: I do not own Gambit, or any other X-men characters.
Unfortunately, the hunger did not stay gone. By the sound of bells, it was two hours later before he finally quit squirming or touching his cheek at the remembered warmth. Pulled out of his remembrance of his Angel by the loud gurgling of his stomach. He needed food, and not just dumpster salvaged food. He hadn't had a real bit of food in almost a week now.
A shrug of the boys shoulders, and he came out of hiding to start stalking for prey. The best places were on Bourbon Street. Where he'd be mistaken for a begger instead of a thief. All he needed was a few dollars. Ten dollars would be enough to fill his stomach up with more than it could ever handle in one sitting, and give him a dinner besides. Even if it was just breads and cheese.
You had to be careful when picking a mark. You didn't want to go after the ones who looked like they might chase you. The more wealthy were often the best bet, because they were too dignified to get that upset to the point of beating him if they did chase him, and they usually had good money too. Or were soft and out of shape.
How long he watched, he wasn't sure, before he slipped from the alleys to tail along behind his mark. He didn't strike until the man stopped to talk to a street vendor, that's when he bumped into him, offered a 'sorry mister' and calmly walked back towards an alley with a wallet in his fingers. Never run right away, not unless they notice. The wallet felt thick too, real thick. Score.
Just as his he was about to get to the alley and safety – he could lose anyone in the alleys as long as he got a little bit of a headstart, was when it all went oh so very wrong. Wronger then he'd ever had it go in his short life. When a strong hand grasped his shoulder, and slipped the wallet right out of his hands. Even as he started to struggle, that sole hand held his shoulder like a vice grip.
"Dunno how ya pulled dat off petite, but if I hadn't been bout ta pay for my paper never woulda noticed ya even lifted dat from me. Ya got a deft touch." The man was giving him a considering gaze, as if weighting him against a scale. Oddest of all, he didn't seem off put by Remy's dirty clothes.
"Ya wasn't supposed ta notice, mister. Lemme go, ya got ya wallet back. Lemme go or I start crying rape, see how long ya last I do dat." Threatened with that, the older man just chuckled.
"I let ya go in a bit petite. What ya name?" At the question, the boy puffed up and smirked as if it was a very important answer he was about to give.
"De names Remy, an I de best t'ief on dese streets!"
"Dat so childe?" A finger rubbing his chin. "I'm Jean-Luc LeBeau." He was looking for name recognition in the youths face. Of which there was none.
"Dat so old man. Now y'let me go!" Dirty feet reaching out to try and kick him, to get free.
"Non. Well Remy, since ya de best t'ief on de streets, an I stole a thing or two in my own time, how bout we settle dis. Ya got fast hands petite. I get ya lunch, dinner too, and ya can crash at de LeBeau house hold tonight, eh? Honor amongst t'ieves an all dat."
"Nuh-uh. I know how dis game works. You jus' be letting me go or I start screamin."
"Fine petite, have it ya way." His hand released Remy, and it startled the young thief he didn't immediately bolt.
"Listen childe, ya change ya mind..." Remy filed the directions to the house away, even as he bolted down the alleys seeking freedom.
As twilight settled across New Orleans, a young boy scurried past a gate. Awestruck at the massive home of the man he'd met on the street that day. It'd been a very bad day, and he'd gotten caught while trying to filch some food. It'd taken him a half hour to lose the two men who'd taken to chasing him. A half hour, and he still had barely avoided escaping with more then a bruise on his back where a thrown object – he still thought it was probably a trash can lid; had hit him in the back.
Lucky throw. Bastards. Need some food. Hope dis guy be legit. He better not try ta touch me or nothing, or I make him regret it.
With trepidation, he knocked. When no one answered, he realized there was a buzzer and hit that instead. Which got a response, when the door opened. Remy blinked a time or two, as he looked up at the heavy set black woman who stood there.
"Ya must be Remy, huh childe? C'mon in. Jean-Luc said dat mebbe we be having a vistor tonight. Come on in, but careful not ta get nothing dirty like childe."
"De name is Remy, not childe." He growled.
"Dat what I said, ain't it? Now c'mon. You need a bath, by time we get ya clean de gumbo be jus' about done."
"Don't wanna bath."
"Well childe, ya don't have a bath, ya don't get no gumbo."
Laughter made both turn their heads, as Jean-Luc stepped from his study grinning at the young boy and Tante Mattie.
"Glad ta see dat ya took up my offer, petite. Ain' much point in arguing wit' her Remy. Trust me, de food be wort' it, eh?" A conspiratorial grin, as the large woman didn't even give Remy time to try and argue about it, as she grabbed him in her arms and dragged him to get clean whether he wanted to or not.
A week later, Remy was still staying with them. A little hellion, that child was, but it brought life back to Jean-Luc LeBeau's household in a way that had been missing for years. Getting him to accept new clothes had been a war in and of itself, and getting him to go to bed at a decent time yet another war. Despite the young boys apparent gratitude for food and a warm place, he was a proud child and wasn't used to living by other peoples rules.
"Ya can't be serious bout dis den?" Henri LeBeau asked his father, in apparent astonishment.
"Ya be sure as ya name is Henri dat I am. De boy gonna be a LeBeau."
"De Guild, ain't gonna like dis father. Be one thing t'adopt him into one of de other guild families, but ya adopt him as ya own and he gonna be in de running for succession.."
"Don't care what dat pack of wolves in sheeps clothin t'ink bout it Henri, Remy gonna be a LeBeau. I saw de way ya been playing wit' him de last few days, ya can't tell me ya ain't happy to have a younger brother."
"Ain't dat Père. Just.. ya sure bout dis?"
A long drawn breath from the older man.
"I spoke my mind on dis, Henri. Dat de way it gonna be. Remy gonna be ya brother."
"D'accord."
"Don't fight it, Henri. Ya my oldest an only blood son, dat ain't gonna change. Dere a lot ya could teach Remy too. I see he already conned ya into teaching him to pick locks already too.."
"Yeah, I regretting dat already too. De little t'ief already got into my room while I out yesterday, came home ta finding him playing wit' dat Angel figurine I swiped in Florence last year."
"Heh. Let it be, Henri. Remy just got a fixation on Angels, dat all. It harmless enough. Why don't ya go try and help ya cousin with teaching him his letters, huh? Dat childe.. he already got all de womenfolk eating outta de palm of his hand. Needs some sternness for learnin, he got a lot of years t'make up for dat he missed in de school system."
"Oiu. I get to it den. Tante still in a fit dat he handed her de salt when she wanted de sugar cuz he couldn't read de labels?"
"Yeah, dat she is. 'cepting dat she in an uproar at me an you for not teaching him sooner."
A chuckle from Jean-Luc, as Henri shook his head and made to go help teach his little brother how to read. Best he start thinking about Remy in that fashion, rather then as just a street urchin.
A brother. He'd never thought he'd have one. As he closed the door to Jean-Luc's study, Henri chuckled and whispered to himself. "Well Remy LeBeau, mebbe you not my blood brother, but if ya gonna be my brother, ya gonna have t'be worthy of de name LeBeau. Père didn't say it, but ya gonna learn a lot more den reading from me petite.."
In the study, Jean-Luc smiled as he stepped away from the door and hearing his sons whisper to himself. "T'ings gonna be alright after all."