Thanks to all my lovely reviewers!
SouthernLoner, laenamoradadeGAMBIT, MidniteAngelGoth (so 'clean clean'? -sweatdrop- hope that's a compliment), Lady Dragon, emma134, ROMY3, Katsu Kitsune (pocky and a kitten? spoiling me...), thesupernugget, CheshireCat (the leg has to do with Kitty's broken leg - thus no roommate), X-Storm, jr forever, nuriiko (I love your description of Remy: "the egoistical man who only love women for being, well, women of course!"), BloodChildOf Hate, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe (liked your latest fic; the accents were great!), Secret Agent Smut Girl, musagirl15, fattywantapoptart, ishandahalf (loved your analysis!), RG Marie, Remy'sRose (this enough touching for now?), and ElizabethMarieBennett ('m guessing that has to do with Pride & Prejudice? I love that book! –and the movies).
Oh my goodness!! I just saw the second part of Day of Reckoning i.e. Gambit and Rogue's first meeting, and oh my goodness!! The chemistry was incredible!! And it wasn't all my imagination!! Hate that they lost the duster (where the heck is he supposed to pull all these cards from?) and he seemed to have white corneas (still confused about that little point – he'd like just have black eyes with a ring of red, not a real Diable Blanc then), but definitely charm ability! Rogue practically swoons when she sees him and with the way he was moving into her, I thought he was going in for a kiss for a moment! (melts into a pile of Romy goo) Imagine that!
But definitely inspired by that, so here's the next part. It's funny – it came out a bit more intimate than I planned, but I am really happy with this chapter. There is some Kitty p.o.v. but I like writing outsider views, so there may continue to be some veering from purely Rogue p.o.v. Other bit of foretelling: further chapters will cover more time.
--Oh and poll: What should his X-Men uniform look like? If anyone knows good sketches posted, send me the links!
It Takes Two...to Practice
by Silver Nitte iz
…At first…
"Rogue!"
Even stuck in bed with a broken leg and hard cast, Kitty managed to sound perky. Rogue had to shake her head at the phenomenon, but it was tempered with a tug of gladness. At least she was keeping her spirits up.
"Hey Kitty." She smiled as the girl wiggled into a better sitting position. At the moment she was propped against her headboard, of course cushioned by pillows, with her left leg also elevated. "How yah doing today?"
"Oh I'm fine. My leg doesn't hurt or anything." Kitty blew a wisp of hair out of her face. "I'm just bored. There's like nothing to do! Especially 'cuz I'm supposed to keep off my leg and everything."
Rogue nodded sympathetically. "Ah know ah'd go stir-crazy if ah was stuck like yah."
"Gee thanks," Kitty muttered, half-heartedly bitter. She then brightened. "But at least I've been getting lots of visitors. Just about everyone in the Mansion's dropped by. Kurt pops in randomly, probably because it takes like no time for him to get here. He even brought me something when he raided the fridge last night." She wrinkled her nose. "I have to get him to bring me a closed thing of ice cream though-"
"'cuz food just ain't made to easily jus' go through dimensions." She shared a completely empathetic look with the bed-ridden teen.
"And the smell." Kitty shook her head, making a face. "Nothing tastes right."
"Poor baby. Anyway, ah'm surprised nobody's brought yah any video games or movies." She motioned to the T.V. against the wall by the door. "If there ain't anythang on, lahke usual."
Kitty shook her head. "It still isn't hooked up. The Professor said someone would fix it up soon, but unless I ask Forge," there was a mutual wince at the possibilities there, "I don't think it's going to happen. Logan, who's probably supposed to do it, said 'it'll just rot your brain, half-pint'." Her attempt at his gravely voice was terrible and Rogue had to bite her lip. "So no help there. But hey," she reached over to her night table, "at least I have cards!"
There was a slight sarcasm to the words, not that Rogue noticed. Instead her stomach performed a sudden twisting motion that'd make it a good contestant for a dance contest. She recognized that brand. With the way Gambit ran through cards, one would think he'd just pick up a pack anywhere he could and stockpile them. Instead, he seemed to buy them in bulk – she'd only seen him veer from his normal brand once and that was during a DR session that required using whatever objects were at hand in an everyday room. Typically, Gambit had managed to find a deck of cards from among the pile of napkins, utensils, cleaning supplies, and writing implements they'd scrounged up.
Rogue swallowed, trying not conjure the whole other new set of associations he was now connected with starting with last night. "Ah take it those are compliments of a certain Cajun livin' here?" She wasn't sure how well she played nonchalance, but Kitty didn't seem to notice.
She nodded. "Yeah, Remy was nice enough to drop them off." Although she stressed the name, she didn't bother complaining on how Rogue refused to call him by name. In the three months he'd been around, they'd had the conversation more than once. Rogue would call him what she liked – and he stuck to chérie, something Kitty was privately pretty sure was some kind of retaliatory action, considering how annoyed it made Rogue. Then again, he barely called anyone by their real name, so maybe she was overthinking it. "He even offered to play with me sometime."
Rogue's teeth went on edge. "Oh I'm just sure," she muttered under her breath, turning away to fiddle with the jewelry box on Kitty's bureau. After nearly half a week, the bureau was littered with various knick-knacks lending the room an almost homey feel. Shelving her scorn, she asked, "So how is livin' with the ex-Acolytes?"
In part because they were older, and perhaps because of their background, both Piotr and Remy lived in their own small alcove with the few guest bedrooms the Manor held. Since the location was on the ground floor, it was to this section Kitty had been relocated.
The phase changer shrugged. "It's fine. They stop by every once and a while, but I don't see them too much. Just y'know," her cheeks traitorously began to tint, "have to share the bathroom and everything."
Rogue compressed her lips. "Must be terrible," she said wryly, darting a look back at her former roommate. "Seein' Piotr just out of the showa-"
"Rogue!" Kitty couldn't help a giggle, but after a moment confessed, "Well, it's not like he comes out half-dressed or anything." Rogue tutted and Kitty blushed deeper. Given her on and off again relationship with Lance, she had reserved Piotr as crush material, but one she wasn't about to act on. At least, not yet. "Remy on the other hand…" she went on leadingly.
Rogue was glad to be turned away as she felt her own cheeks inevitably stain. She had a lot more to blush about though. "Ah'm sure he ain't that impressive," she scoffed, ignoring the little voice mocking her inside. It was the glint of burning red in the mirror that warned her that wasn't the only person mocking her.
"Bite yaur tongue, chérie," he murmured saucily, leaning in the previously empty doorway. "Or I'll star' t'inkin' you want ta judge f' yahself." His voice was rich with innuendo, the details flashing in his dancing eyes as if he knew her real opinion. She felt herself blush harder, but she turned around anyway.
"Well, whattaya know, speak of the devil an' here he is." Gambit let the insult roll off him with characteristic ease.
"Wun't want t' disappoint," he said with a shrug, lifting a hand to tug at his other glove. "Just let meh know when y' want dat demonstration-"
The fact she'd sorta asked for it already burned and she couldn't help her ensuing venom. "Please swamp rat, like ah-"
Her heated response was cut off by Kitty. "Ah Remy, thanks for stopping by!" She threw a glare at Rogue who rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and gave a huff in a single coordinated sequence that she'd perfected. Gambit smirked at that, letting his eyes trail in an unmistakable entitled look. Before she could call him on it, his gaze shifted.
"Always a pleasure, petite. How's de leg?" He gave a nod in her direction, still hanging in the doorway.
"Fine. Don't feel a thing." She gave a light rap to the cast and he nodded, eyes lighting on what she was holding in the other hand.
"Fina'ly gonna make use of dose?" Kitty blinked, looking at the cards herself.
"Ah, maybe. If Rogue'll play something." Rogue had to grit her teeth as the suggestion conjured a leer on Gambit's face.
"Don' t'ink dat'd be too hard t' arrange." His fingers flexed. "Matter a fact, Gambit'd be more dan happy ta make it a threesome." This time Rogue's eyes practically flared.
"Yah got some nerve, swamp rat," she threw at him. "Yah can just-"
"Where are you headed Remy?" Again Kitty interceded, sensing a rather vulgar explicit description of just what exactly Gambit could do upcoming. The Goth scowled at the second interruption. "I'm assuming you just dropped in for a moment?" As much as she thought he was cool, Rogue was still the closest thing she had to a best friend. She didn't want the visit cut too short.
Eyes never leaving Rogue, he nodded. "On m' way out," he said in his usual, infuriatingly vague way. "Hope y' two have a nahce visit." Turning, he gave Rogue a wink as he lifted a casual hand to wave. "See yah lata."
Rogue's jaw was so tight she felt about to break a tooth. "Asshole," she muttered under her breath.
Kitty, though not hearing the last insult, shook her head. "Rogue! It wouldn't kill you to be nice. He's one of us now." Rogue audibly scoffed. Kitty frowned at the dismissive gesture, but let it go in favor of something she'd been wondering. "But hey, when'd you start calling him swamp rat?"
Rogue froze.
Kitty sighed. "I feel like I'm missing everything!" she said exasperated, hitting the bed with both fists. "Fill me in?"
Rogue really hated him.
"Yau're late," she snapped, glowering at the shadowed figure on her balcony. Even in the shadows, she could see him roll the glowing embers that he called eyes as he slipped through the door. She didn't respond; it was only the first of her complaints.
"Said if weh set a time-" He said it with tried patience, humoring her, and her blood boiled.
"Eleven." It was clipped and left no room for argument. "Now, what the hell was that little scene with Kitty?"
He paused. "De kit-kat?"
"No, my other ex-roommate," she shot back sarcastically. He quirked an eyebrow, leaning back on the doorframe. Even with his show of casualness, apparently he had enough common sense to not get too close in her present distemper.
"You been roomin' wit' others, chérie, an' didn't invite meh?" He placed a gloved hand over heart. "'m hurt."
"Oh grow up Gambit," she growled, before grounding out her complaint. "Yah can't be flirtin' with meh like that, sleazy." She wasn't really sure why it had upset her so much. Probably because she was now second guessing the ability of keeping this secret. Any little slip and it'd be through the Manor faster than Pietro. Or her upset could do with the fact every time she now snapped at him for his lewdness, it had to be tempered with the fact that at least in some respect she was quite literally asking for it. It was hard to fall back into her dismissive scorn with their practice in mind. Not that she was going to admit any of that to him. "Thought thieves were supposed ta know how to keep a low profile." Seated cross legged on the bed, arms folded, she glared him down.
"Gambit be like dat wit' all des filles, mon chérie," he shrugged. "Dat be a reason yeh picked moi, non?" Because he was such a player and flirted with anything in a skirt. Right. Still, he'd been unreasonably intense this morning. Hadn't he? She felt the first stirrings of uncertainty. "And Remy can't help dat you be such a good target, specia'ly when y' get riled so easy. Maybe it be yau who needs more self control." His lips widened into a leer and she felt her cheeks flush in self consciousness at the pointed comment. But who the heck was he to talk about self control anyway?
"Oh shut up." The ineloquent retort obviously served as a signal it was safe to approach and he approached the bed, or more correctly, her.
"Now y' gonna spit more fire," he asked wryly, towering over her, "or we gonna get down to business?" The last word was punctuated by his gloved pointer trailing down her chin to her covered cleavage. She couldn't help a shiver, but inwardly frowned at the term. Business? Was that what he saw this was? She wasn't sure she cared to ask. Instead, she let her eyes close halfway, peering at him from a shuttered position.
"Yah said yah were gonna plan?" she asked warily, trying her best to ignore the distracting little frissons his touch had incited.
He let out a low laugh that was definitely far too close to her as the sound nearly vibrated through her. She swallowed, now trying not to imagine what it would feel like to be on him like last night and make that sound. "De chérie not like surprises?" he asked with an intimacy that was simply too, close.
"No," she said shortly, swiveling on the bed to face the headboard. She motioned for him to sit and after a small head cock, he acquiesced, collapsing on the bed in that boneless way that made her wonder just how dang flexible he really was. "Now what's this plan?" She emphasized the last word, not caring how bossy she was coming across, just glad to be regaining control. "Let's see yah hand, swamp rat." Her lips quirked at her own attempt at a joke.
"But weh haven't even started playin' yet," he pouted as his voice went down a timber, throwing her a lidded seductive look.
"Afta," she dismissed, ignoring the blush that arose at her own casualness. The pout held for another moment before dissolving into a more serious look. He inched back to sprawl against her headboard. She raised an eyebrow. He had that composed quality that made her flash to Scott about to lecture. It was a connection beyond odd.
"Well, it seems to Gambit yah wantin' to deal wit' jus' plain touchin' but parts y' not used to," his eyes pointedly skimmed her with that hint of indecency that he simply exuded. She forced herself not to roll her eyes. Never mind, definitely not like Scott. "Bu' y' want a boyfriend an' dat ain't really gonna cut it."
She blinked. "What?"
His fingers flexed and absently, she wondered if he was wishing for a cigarette or his cards. He seemed addicted to both. "Yah said y' can't really deal wit' unplanned touch."
"So?" Point not relayed.
He shook his head, the heat in his gaze tempered with unmistakable exasperation. "Chérie if yah t'ink dat y' can ge' hot 'n' heavy wit' someone wit' only "planned" touch," he didn't need to make the quote marks as his tone was clear enough to get his point across, "yah need a better imagination. And t' watch more T.V.," he added with surprisingly deadpan humor.
She wanted to scoff at him, she really did, except, d- him, he could have a point. But she managed a small snort nonetheless, tossing her hair as she looked to the side. "All ah need is a non-grabby boyfriend."
"But dat be de best part." He was all wide eyes and innocence and splayed hands, and she couldn't help rolling her own. He didn't hold the pose long, the smirk inching over his lips as he leaned forward. "Behsides, y' just beggin' ta be touched."
She batted away his hand with a sneer. "That's just because yah got sticky fingers," when he grinned unrepentantly, she added sourly, "not to mention yah can't resist a challenge." The last part came out with more bitterness than she expected, let alone wished. He paused for the barest moment and she wondered vaguely if he really did have empathetic abilities as they locked eyes.
"'s good t'ing, non? Otherwise, I might not be de homme y' picked t' practice wit'." His tone was light, but the undercurrent – she relaxed fractionally. He was sidestepping her accusation, but – damn him for being able to charm her. She looked away again.
"So yah want ta work on what 'xactly?" Time to move on.
"Y' need ta be comfortable bein' touched, even when it be unexpected." And sure enough, his partially gloved hand curled around her bare forearm. The brush of his fingers against her skin tingled as her mutation reacted.
She shook her head in consternation. Boy liked playing with fire. But she didn't brush away his hand. "That even possible?" she mumbled instead, a weak protest and he threw her a tolerant look.
"Thus de practice." He tapped her nose with his other hand as if to emphasize his point and she wrinkled it in reaction. They sat there for a few moments before she became ancy. Patience, after all, was not her strong suit, especially when he was around and firing her up, and given the impressions she'd gotten from him, it wasn't exactly his either.
"So this is-" she broke the silence, shifting in her seat.
Apparently Gambit wasn't the patient type. That was as far as he let her get before he just about pounced on her. (Well actually, it was more like pulling suddenly forward on her arm and taking advantage of her being unbalanced to make her practically pounce on him. But when she began to struggle, he flipped them over so him pouncing on her had some validity.)
They fumbled around the bed for another few minutes, but Gambit was well aware of her athleticism and managed to keep the upper hand, quite literally, making full use of his gangly arms and legs to lock her own.
"What the hell Gambit?" After making several attempts at speech, she finally got out the question, flushed and thoroughly entangled.
He grinned cheekily from his position on top. "Jus' a little fun, chérie." Fun? She wanted to scrape off that grin with something sharp. It wasn't fun, it was nerve-wracking. She'd never been so close to anyone in her entire life. "Bu' y' do need to get used t' a movin' target," his serious tone gave way to pure heat as he dipped his head even closer to hers, tattooing his words with his very breath against her cheek, "'cuz believe meh, chérie, when yah get goin' dere be a lot." She didn't have a prayer of stopping the shiver that went down her spine. Still -
"Too, fast," she bit out.
He shrugged, "Want time fa fun later, after all." He winked at her and her stomach twisted in all sorts of new knots at the promises of that remark. But she couldn't help but wonder; he was counting on a later?
Without loosening their intertwinement, he rolled over so she was once again on top. She flushed as their proximity let her feel the flexing of his muscles against her own as he maneuvered. Her heart felt ready to beat out of her chest for so many other reasons than exertion and she wondered if he could feel it. She thought she could feel his, a slow and steady pulse, mocking the furious tattoo of her own. But if he did, he gave no sign, instead adjusting to make her comfortably situated on him. He eased the contact between their arms, the skimming of his fingers teasing the creases of the T-shirt against her back telling her why.
"C'mon chérie," his voice sounded simply decadent, warm and rich – though it could be just the proximity, "rehlax." It almost seemed possible, impossible not to really, when he spoke, but then he stopped and all she could think is, 'is it even possible to be closer?' "Now I'm gonna touch you," his fingers dipped and caressed her exposed forearms, apparently ignoring the unmistakable pull of her powers. She turned her face to the side, still trying to avoid being too close to so much skin. Closing her eyes didn't help, not when she could feel him everywhere. "Y' gonna touch meh?" She swallowed hard, his mouth terrifyingly close, nestled by her ear. "Ah know yah want ta." She felt like laughing. She already felt too much.
And yet…
Her fingers hesitantly brushed the bare sides of what had to be his hips. She could practically feel his smirk at the motion, but she instead focused on the million other sensory details begging for attention. As entwined as she was with him, they were practically her world. Smell melding with taste as she breathed in raggedly, hearing it or the movement, touch that all-encompassed and overwhelmed, her eyes refusing to focus on the darkness as the other senses went on hyper alert.
They breathed almost in tandem, his chest rising a brief half-second before hers expanded in answer. She breathed in cigarette smoke – not recent, sweat, bourbon (which she could only identify thanks to Wolverine's psyche), and something indefinable – a scent she was sure to come to know as uniquely Remy's. Somewhere in the haze of her mind, she wondered if she had her own. But thoughts were hard to focus on, when he kept shifting and she felt the slightest movement reverberate and his hands wandered from her arms and back again and she could only bear to touch him with hesitation.
The tension in her body though, resisted his knowledgeable plying fingers, still tugging him in none too gently when he dared to trace the visible skin. The brush of his lips on the curve of her chin just worsened the situation and he finally gave a sigh. Moving back incrementally, he murmured, "Maybe weh should go back t'-"
The movement of his heat away from her hit hard and the word was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "No!" She knew she'd regret it later, or actually at the present as he looked at her with an eloquent raised eyebrow. But she didn't take it back. "No, I do need this. Ah want ta be able ta touch like everyone else," her frustration built, "not have ta worry about suckin' the life outta someone."
That made it so much worse. It wasn't just that she couldn't touch, but that no one could touch her without literally paying for it with their life. And so they too learned to distance from her; they developed the shadow of fear that lurked in her own eyes. The shadow that she could yet see no sign of in his eyes, black corneas and all. She wasn't sure she'd be able to bear to see it now.
He didn't respond at once and she felt a measure of surprise that he was actually seriously considering what he wanted to say. "Y' know dere's more ta touch dan skin-to-skin. Not that I'm not more dan happy t' help yah practice dis, but Gambit's been known to be rather creative," he made the second sentence light as if to make up for the seriousness of the offer. "Be glad to show yah." And somehow it ended up more kind than sleazy. She was touched, for about a second.
She shook her head, frustrated. "Ah don't want that," the 'to have to' left unspoken but really unnecessary, "ah want to be –"
"Normal?" He craned back even more to more fully address her. "Hate t' break this t' yah, but yeh ain't eva gonna be normal." It was the first time someone, not an enemy, had bluntly told her exactly what she'd said bitingly far too many times and she couldn't face it. She shoved him away and he allowed her to untangle herself, reclining backward. It didn't stop him from adding, "Might as well embrace it."
"Like yah, Mr. 'I-Wear-Sunglasses-Inside'," she mocked spitefully, curling up with her knees to her chest protectively. Except he usually didn't wear them in the Manor and only sometimes when he went out. They sat in silence when he refused to take the bait.
There was a point there, possibilities she'd refused to contemplate, not that she was so ready to give up her attempts to touch freely…
She hated the fact he had points.
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. He didn't move, just looked at her with that infuriating nonchalance. She sighed again, almost more to clear her reluctance, and uncurled to settle on him again. Easily reading the surprised coiling of his muscles, in far contrast to the liquid give of before, she tilted her head to meet his eyes. The closeness made her spine prickle, but she refused to stiffen. It was time for her to make a point, d- it. "What?" she asked pointedly, raising her own eyebrow in imitation. "You bail everytahme the goin' gets tough?" There was a crack just begging to be made about his defection from Magneto and missing the Apocalypse, but she resisted it, instead choosing to study his face.
That strange look was back, face unreadable with his eyes vivid. "Not eve'ytahme," he murmured huskily. And when he gently nestled his face against hers, practically nose to nose, she found she could barely breathe.
In the end, she realized telling him off had been unnecessary. He betrayed nothing of their intimacy around others. He simply acted the same with her as with the other girls, even if seemed more intense to her. Maybe because she didn't just giggle when he drawled out those idiotic lines.
She wouldn't admit to the slightest twinge of disappointment at the fact.