Written for strong'A Very Romy Valentine'/strong – mon cœur/hearts
"Mon cœur, I'm home."
Nothing but silence greeted Remy as he announced his arrival. The silence was odd, but nothing to be worried about. Though both her car and her motorcycle were parked in the garage, it wasn't like they were her only means of transportation. She could fly, for crying out loud.
Still, her favorite boots were left in a half-hazard pile beside the door. Perhaps she was upstairs taking a bath or reading in one of the far corners of the house. He unlaced his boots and placed them beside Roguey's.
"Oh, Roguey, ma Roguey…"
While it wasn't that he expected his wife to greet him at the door, she usually hollered back in response to his greeting. Her honeyed southern drawl had the power to draw him to her like a bee to honey. It just meant he'd need to seek her out and let her know he was home. Since things had been quiet around the X-Mansion, he decided to come home early and surprise Rogue with a particularly southern home cooked meal.
The need to find his wife itched at him in a way it didn't usually haunt him. Roguey had an appointment with Dr. Montgomery today. Over the long run, the therapy was helping, but the individual sessions could be rough. It wouldn't be the first time he came home to find Rogue overwhelmed by the rawness of the emotions brought to the surface. Or, to find her angry and confused as one of the previously hibernating psyches had come to the forefront. He wanted to make certain she was okay. To help her through the tumultuous aftermath of confronting the issues which often made controlling her powers difficult.
Despite her silence, it didn't take long to find Rogue. She sat at the dining room table in deep concentration. The table was covered in an assortment of construction paper, markers, glue, and glitter. This wasn't usual behavior for his Roguey, and when she behaved out of character, he worried. Especially on days like today.
In a single, fluid motion, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he leaned in close. "Salut Roguey, what's that you're making?"
At his up close and personal greeting, Rogue emitted a sound somewhere between a strangled squeal and a mangled curse as she nearly jumped out of her skin. The back of her head collided with his chin while her knee banged against the table leg. The sudden jarring caused a vial of red glitter to topple over and leave a glittering trail in its wake as the glass container rolled off the edge of the table.
Fighting his now throbbing head, Remy leaned over quick as a flash and caught the bottle before it could shatter on the hardwood floor. Unfortunately, he was too late to prevent the remainder of glitter from emptying onto the floor in a shimmering pile of mischief. The cats were going to have a field day with this. As it was, his hands were now flecked with bright red sparkles and left glittery traces on everything he touched. Glitter was not a thief's friend.
Despite the mess, glitter was the least of his worries at the moment. While he was quite proud of his stealth entrances, he had been neither particularly quiet nor sneaky upon his arrival home. He backed away from Rogue, leaving space between them. Sometimes random psyches—especially the particularly strong ones—still managed to work their way to the forefront of her brain and become the dominant presence. If that was the case, it wouldn't be the first time he came home and the psyche in charge didn't recognize him.
"Remy! You scared the dickens out of me." Rogue half turned, half stood and held a hand to her heart. With her other hand, she pulled out one of the earbuds.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the faint strains of old school country music from the dangling earbud. His Roguey had a nostalgic fondness for the country music she listened to growing up in Mississippi. It was something she didn't share with just anybody and listening to it was generally a sign she was feeling safe enough to let her guards down.
"Désolé, mon cœur. I didn' mean to frighten you." He pressed a kiss to her hair and waited for her to raise her face before kissing her properly. His lips prickled with the slight absorption from the skin contact.
As they broke from the kiss, Remy took a moment to regain his breath before gesturing at the paper covered table. "What's all this about?"
Rogue ducked her chin and looked at a spot to the left of his feet. Her fingers curled into hem of her oversized sweater. The pink of her cheeks nearly matched the pink of the sweater. "It ain't anything to make a fuss about. I'll clean up the mess before we eat."
"Chère." Remy's voice was a low, deep rumbled. He placed his knuckle under her chin and raised her face so he could meet her eyes. "First, you can keep working if you want. I need to make dinner before we can eat. Tonight we're havin' fried chicken, collard greens, and cornbread. For dessert, I picked up some of that chocolate ice cream you were craving the other day. If I have time, I might throw together some brownies and we can have them à la mode. How does that sound?"
"Sounds good, sug, like always." Though she met his gaze with a shy smile, she continued to rub the ribbed hem between her fingers, steadily working flecks of red glitter into the yarn.
His heart melted at her vulnerability as he pulled her into a hug. For a moment they just stood there while they breathed in the innate familiarity of each other. When her nervous fidgeting morphed into a bold exploration along the waist of his jeans, he broached his next point. "You know you don't have to explain your interest in arts and crafts to me if you don't want to. Mais, I hope you don't feel like you need to hide things from me. I won't laugh."
To prove his point, he plucked the earbud from where it dangled between them and stuck it in his ear. His hearing was filled with Reba crooning about Fancy's chance for a better life. While it wasn't particularly his cup of tea, he did like finding his wife dancing about the house as she sang along to her favorites.
"Okay, okay, you proved your point." Rogue tugged the cord and pulled the earbuds out of both their ears. She tossed her phone on the table, then looped her interlaced hands behind his neck. "I know you'd support me if I decided to start an arts and crafts empire from our dining room or whatever, but, I guess, I just ain't so sure of myself."
"Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow in encouragement for her to continue.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "Oh my gawd, swamp rat. I've already seen my therapist today, I don't need ya playing armchair psychiatrist too."
He raised his hand and laughed in good natured surrender at the rebuke."That's fair."
With a tug at his sleeve, she pulled him towards the kitchen. "C'mon, let's get those collard greens started or we will be eatin' 'round midnight. I'll explain things while we work on dinner. 'Kay?"
"Ouais." He allowed himself to be pulled into the kitchen. Over the course of their marriage, Rogue discovered she often had an easier time talking through things when her hands were busy. Then again, who was he kidding, the tactic also helped him.
After thoroughly washing all traces of glitter, glue, and, in Rogue's case, marker from their hands, Remy handed Rogue the bacon while he started prepping the greens. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes.
As the bacon began to sizzle, Rogue began to talk. "During my session today, the Doc asked me about my hobbies—you know, what I do for fun."
A sly grin tugged at Remy's lips. "And you told him about that thing—"
Rogue turned around so fast, Remy would almost swear he could feel the sympathetic whiplash. Her cheeks glowed a brilliant crimson which rivaled the trace of glitter still stuck to her cheek. She brandished the spatula at him. "You keep your peccadillos to yourself. I ain't sharing that with the Doc."
"That mean you don't want to do the thing with the handcuffs later?" He waggled his eyebrows in a lascivious manner in hopes of making her laugh.
"I didn't say that, swamp rat." With a snort of laughter, Rogue shook her head and returned to minding the sizzling bacon."Ya want to hear the rest of the story or not?"
"I'll be good. I promise." Remy continued to tear the greens into bite size pieces.
"Alright then." Though they faced opposite sides of the kitchen, he could hear the smirk in her voice. The one which suggested he better not be too good.
The good mood quelled as she returned to her explanation. "I started telling the Doc about how much I love to fly, when it occurred to me that I didn't like flying before I absorbed Carol. And, yeah, I know a person can develop new hobbies over the year, and maybe if I had a chance to grow up normally, I'd also be keen on flying…. But, when I talked about it, flying didn't really feel like something that was really mine."
"Doesn't mean you can't still love it." Remy's voice was almost lost under the stream of water from the tap and the sizzle of bacon grease from the stove.
Rogue sighed heavily in the way she did when she wanted to expel the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. "I know. And, if it was just the flying, maybe it wouldn't have hit me so hard or whatever. He asked me what else I liked to do and all I could think of was things I picked up from absorbing others. I got my hankerin' for Canadian beer and bar fights from Logan. A green thumb from Ororo. An interest in nineteenth century Germanic literature from Eric and obscure medical texts from Hank. I picked up my propensity for cheating at cards from you. Heck, before I absorbed Cody, I was only a casual baseball fan."
Reaching for the hand towel, Remy dried his hands before pulling Rogue to him in an encompassing embrace. As she fitted against him like she belonged, she turned off the burner and rested the back of her head against his sternum.
"I just wanted to find something that was my own. You know, something I couldn't simply trace back to all the psyches rattling around my head. Which, ain't so easy. With the number of people residing up here," she tapped her temple, "I've done darn near everything."
"Okay." He didn't know what to say. It didn't need a response, he supposed, but he just wanted to let her know he was there. Listening and supporting her no matter where her revelations might take her.
"Well, after a bit of panic, the Doc suggested I think about what I liked to do before my mutation manifested. Since I was a bit of a tomboy and Cody was my best friend, it took a bit to weed out my memories from Cody's." She rested her hands over his and began idly tracing her fingertips over his scars. "After a while, I remembered I used to love to draw and come up with all kinds of these crafty sort of things. I would spend hours making these elaborate dioramas. They drove Aunt Carrie crazy 'cause I'd tape them up all over the house. Whenever I got in one of those crafty modes, before you could say Jack Robinson, Cody would be off on some fools errand or another. The boy couldn't sit still if his life depended on it." The thought of the past hung heavy in the air for a moment before Rogue breathed deeply, exhaling the weight of memory. "Their presence in my memories—it's how I knew they're my memories and not anyone else's."
Remy captured Rogue's hands in his and ran his thumbs over her palms in figure-eights. "That's wonderful."
"So, yeah, on my way home, I thought I'd stop by the craft store and pick up some basic supplies." She fidgeted in his arms, pulling away from the embrace. "And, wow, it was so overwhelming. I mean, who knew there were some many kind of paper and markers out there? And what if I bought something and hated it? Or, how to make those fancy blending markers work? And there's like a bazillion different widths for the tips. Don't even get me started on the paint—oil, water, fabric. What if I chose the wrong one…. They're all so expensive."
"Oh, mon cœur, you know the money doesn't really matter. If they ain't the right supplies for you, we can always donate them to the school. Let the kids figure out if they like drawing or whatnot." Lifting her hands, he pressed a kiss to her palms and allowed her to absorb the presence of his calmer thoughts.
"Thanks, sug." As she processed his calm, the tension which had built up in her shoulders as she's ranted eased. "And, yeah, I know. Guess, I was just afraid that if I chose something and failed at it, that I wouldn't give it a fair chance. Might miss out on something I really enjoy—something that's all mine—'cause I started at the deep end."
"Fair." He still held her hand though they no longer embraced. "Looks like you eventually found something you wanted to try."
With a lackadaisical shrug, she glanced away as the self-conscious flush tinged her cheeks. "Um, yeah. I ended up picking up some kids craft kits. I figured they'd have some easy to follow instructions. Ya know, ease myself back into the hobby."
"Makes sense," he agreed.
"And since Valentine's is jut a few days away…"
"That would explain the profusion of pinks and reds, oui?"
"Yeah." Rogue wandered back into the dining room and out of sight. "I made you something."
"Oh?" He followed her into the dining room just in time to spy her hide something behind her back.
"Ya better not laugh." There was a nervous hesitation to her steps.
"I promise." He would not ruin this for her.
Shyly she handed him the card she'd spent the afternoon working on. "I know it ain't Valentine's Day quite yet, but…"
A slow smile spread across Remy's face. His eyes lit up in delight and he bit his lip to hold in the equally delighted laughter which threatened to escape. On the front of the card was a cat in reds, pinks, and purple made of hearts and glued to the card stock. Inside, it contained a simple message—
To Remy, You're purr-fect. Love, Rogue
"I love it, mon cœur," He pulled Rogue into his side and kissed her. "And, I think you're purr-fect to."
"Don't tease me," she fumed, but didn't pull away from his touch.
"'M not. In fact, I know exactly what I'm gonna do with this."
"Oh no! Don't you dare!" Rogue spluttered. She grabbed for the card, but he held it above her head. With his long arms, she couldn't quite reach the card unless she evened the playing field.
"Ouias."
As she jumped for the card, Remy dropped his hold on his wife and dashed out of the room and out of her reach.
"Come back here, swamp rat!" She dashed behind him. Her stocking feet slid on the hardwood floor, careening her into the doorway as she chased her husband.
Quicker and more agile than her, Remy made it to the kitchen before she could catch up. By the time she'd arrived, he had already stuck the handmade card to the refrigerator with a magnet. It held pride of place in the center of the door.
"Everyone is gonna see it," Rogue pouted, in a way which was more for show than actual embarrassment. "It's cheesy."
"Of course it's cheesy and I love it. You made it for me, Roguey. That makes it purr-fect."
She smacked him playfully, "That explains everything, Swamp Rat. You're pure cheese."
"Just for you." Tugging her around until they stood face to face, his heart raced in time with Rogue's. She tilted her head up to meet his as he leaned down to press a long, sensuous kiss to her lips. Her powers pulled at the contact—as hungry for him as Rogue was. When they broke apart to catch their breaths, Rogue's eyes gleamed red on black.
"Just got one question for ya, chère." His fingers tangled in her hair.
"Mmm?" Rogue leaned into his touch. She was clearly reveling in the mix of their heated passions. Her fingers walked up his chest. When she reached the top button of his shirt, she slipped the button through the hole with steady hands.
"Did you have fun making the card?"
Her hands stilled as she pressed her palm right over over his heart. For a few moments she simply breathed and mulled over her thoughts. Her lips moved as she silently counted his heart beats. Though her eyes still reflected his, she had come back to herself. "Yeah, actually, I did. It felt like something that could be mine. And, it reminded me of rainy afternoons and good memories of Aunt Carrie as she taught me how to crochet."
"Good," Remy placed his hand over the hand resting on his chest. "I look forward to seeing what you make next."
Rogue's eyes lit with mischief—the spark he thought of as solely her own—. "Is that so? Well, good. 'Cause I've got lots of ideas."
If it gave his Roguey the confidence to be herself, a way she could anchor herself, then Remy didn't mind if their home was filled with second coming of the Arts and Crafts movement.
"What should I look forward to next time?" His fingers traced up along her throat until they tangled in the wild curls of her hair at the nape of her neck.
Though she practically melted into his touch, her eyes remained bright and alert with a liberal dose of cheek. "Think I might take up knitting. I could make ya a scarf. Or, a hat." Her fingers combed through his hair until she cupped the back of his head. A gentle pressure guided his face closer to hers.
"Better not be green this time," he teased as he recalled another hat and his subsequent protestations of not being a Slytherin. (He wasn't no matter what those on-line quizzes claimed.)
Rogue's bottom lip formed into a beguiling pout. "But, sug, I like ya in green."
While he'd only meant to tease, apparently it meant more to her than a passing thought. "Pourquoi?"
"'Cause, I like it when you wear my color." She pressed her body flush against his as she rose to her toes, thus bringing their faces a hairsbreadth from each other. "I want everyone to know you're mine."
He thrilled at the slight possessiveness in her tone. It was the same when he called her 'his.'
"Ah, well, in that case, I will wear all the green you give me. And,"—His words slipped into a deep and greedy murmur while his fingers dipped beneath the collar of the wide collar of her dusty rose sweater.—"you'll be wearing pink, mon cœur."
Words weren't needed for the conversation which followed. All thoughts and worry fled their minds as the their world was wrapped up in kiss and touch and each other.
Needless to say, despite their earlier efforts, dinner was not ready 'til nearly midnight. And, there was now the matter of three glittering cats in dire need of a bath.