Hey everyone! Just taking a quick break from 'Fresh Start' to write a fluffy one-shot. I promise I'll post the next chapter for that fic relatively soon, but I needed to write something simpler and fluffier to add to the series of X-Men '97 one-shots I have while I'm working on the next chapter.

This fic doesn't happen in any particular time frame or continuity, but placing it in the TAS/'97 timeline, somewhere in the year between the two series, just to make it easier.

This chapter involves some car/mechanic "shop talk", along with some cooking stuff, but I am not a car person nor a big home cook, so I can't guarantee that any of it is accurate. I ask that if I am wrong with any of my terminology or jargon or explaining how stuff works, I ask that you please try to ignore it and don't comment to me about how "That's not how that works." Expecting 100% accuracy in fanfiction isn't why we write it. I'm here to write fluffy one-shots about my Southern X-Men lovers.

And of course, once again, I have some music to vibe to if you are so inclined to enjoy it! It's totally optional, but wanted to make it available:

(1) - One More Night — Michael Kiwanuka

(2) - South Side — Moby

(3) - Bette Davis Eyes — Kim Carnes

(4) - EASE YOUR MIND — Darius, Devin Tracy

(5) - White Flag — Dido

(6) - Need You — Flight Facilities, Nïka

(7) - Silence (feat. The Midnight) —Essenger, The Midnight

Hope you all enjoy!

Footsteps could echo forever when the mansion was this quiet. Nothing around here followed a schedule, but even for a Sunday, it was uncanny how deserted the place was.

While many of the other X-Men were occupied with a mission—or in Ororo, Jean, or Scott's case, occasional diplomatic work—the mansion was left to be defended by a small team, usually two or three at a time. Better to make sure there was no opportunity for those who were looking for the chance to destroy their home while they were away, as they had learned on multiple occasions when their home had been left defenseless.

Remy didn't get many opportunities for this kind of solitude, and wondered if it was his lucky day.

Sliding into a pair of joggers and a wifebeater, he headed down from his room and checked the War Room, finding that the team had indeed been called away during the night, with a message of where they'd be in case of an emergency. He smirked to himself, taking great pleasure in having some time to relax a little. He'd been involved in multiple missions or Danger Room sessions this week alone, and the man was looking forward to a day that involved little more than kicking his feet up and enjoying himself.

The Cajun made his way back up to the main level of the mansion, keeping an ear out for any movement that told him who he was playing housesitter with, but after ten minutes and no luck, he figured that maybe, whoever it was, they were either still asleep or outside on the grounds. Either was a reasonable assumption, depending on who it was.

Remy got to the kitchen and started fixing up a decent breakfast for himself, with an extra helping for his would-be partner, in case they were hungry themselves. He never made food without making extra, as he was taught proper manners by his Tante. He could hear her voice in his head, "If y' gon' go through the trouble of fixin' a meal, y' may as well make 'nough fo' everyone."

He switched on some music to cook to, taking the rare opportunity to spread out in the space a bit. When you lived with a house of roommates, it was sometimes hard to enjoy time and space for yourself. (1)

The kitchen started to waft smells that resembled that of a special occasion kind of morning—french toast and fresh fruit to dress it was easy enough to throw together on any day, but Remy took his time. Slices of each piece of toast thoroughly soaked through with the dredge before throwing them on the pan, his internal clock for flipping them still accurate as ever for an even cook.

With maybe half a loaf cooked, and some fruit cut and cored, the man was setting himself down at the kitchen table to enjoy his meal when he heard the side door open abruptly with a harsh slam. So much for his alone time.

"God damn transmission…!"

And instantly, Remy wasn't so disappointed anymore that his breakfast had been interrupted, because he'd just found out who he was getting to spend his day with, and it filled him with immense glee.

The rough and brassy timbre of the love of his life trailed off as she muttered under her breath. With a frustrated groan, Rogue turned the corner as she headed into the kitchen, spotting Remy instantly and feeling incredibly embarrassed at her outburst.

"Oh, Remy… I didn't think anyone else was here," Rogue explained with a light pink in her cheeks… and what looked to be streaks of oil and dirt across her face and arms.

She was dressed in old, loose jeans with dozens of holes through them, which were also oil stained, and a fitted tank top. Her arms were bare, but with large gloves over her hands that had seen better days. She took them off along with the steel toe boots that looked to be fitted for Logan, so as not to get oil and dirt on everything inside the kitchen as she made her way in. Her skin, which rarely was so exposed, had a dewy sheen to it, like she'd been working out for hours.

"No worries, chère," he sang back easily, "Was just sittin' down fo' some top notch breakfast."

She gave a lilted laugh, the anger she possessed only moments before seemingly melted away as fast as cotton candy in the rain as she headed to the fridge to grab the water pitcher, "I bet. Smells amazin' in here."

"Care t' join me?" he offered, "Made plenty extra."

She eyed him as she put the pitcher away and grabbed her glass, turning to him as she leaned on the counter, "Ya sure? I wouldn't wanna impose."

"Nonsense!" he said, "Gambit always makes 'nough food t' go 'round."

With a half smirk and knowing look, she pushed off from the counter and sat on the chair opposite his, putting some space between them, since so much of her skin was exposed, "Thanks, Remy. 'Ppreciate ya goin' the extra mile."

As she grabbed some food on her plate and they both started on their meals, Rogue moaned in delight with her first few bites, "Mmm, it's so good, sugah!"

Remy chuckled, loving that she always let him know how much she enjoyed his food, "You like it, chère? I make it fo' you anytime you like."

"Don't make promises ya ain't willin' ta keep, Cajun," she smirked as she popped another piece of fruit in her mouth, a small bit of juice and syrup dripping over her lip, making Remy wish he could lean in for a quick taste.

Remy asked, "So, whatcha been gettin' up to this mornin'? Y' lookin' like y' jus' got out of a wrestlin' match wit' a chimney sweep."

She sighed with an exhausted tone, setting down her fork as she said exasperatedly, "My dang car's transmission finally went out the other day, and the replacement I got from the local shop ain't quite workin' out how I expected it."

"You fix cars?" Remy asked curiously, his head tilting to the side in bemusement.

She raised her eyebrow in scrutiny, "What? A gal can't be int' fixin' up old cars?"

He raised his hands in defense, as he explained, "Non, I just… never knew that was a hobby o' yours."

She scoffed, leaning back in her chair, "Yeah, well… when my daddy and I used ta talk, he'd always show me how ta work with old beaters. He did it fer a long time—both ta makes ends meet an' in his spare time. I just kinda… picked it up like a sponge."

Remy nodded in understanding, "So, this transmission…"

"Right! I've been spendin' all mornin' workin' at it, tryin' ta get the darn thing ta install, but without a crane ta hold it up, I just don't got enough hands ta set it and seal it on my own."

So, without hesitation, Remy said, "Wan' some help?"

She laughed, "Remy, do ya even know yer way 'round a 1977 Mustang transmission?"

He shrugged his shoulders with a coy, toothy grin, "Non, but Gambit always been a fast learner."

Rogue couldn't help but giggle at his propensity for the man to put himself in situations where he was bound to be made a fool. She drawled, "Riiight, right. That's why yer such a pro skier now, right?"

Remy's face fell a little, joking back, "That a minor exception. An' how dare you go bring up somethin' you know I'm insecure about. "

She laughed again, saying a little under her breath, "Well, if ya wanna be useful… I could always use the extra hands. So long as you've got a few hours in ya…?"

Music to his ears, "Chère, you know if Gambit's known fo' two things… it being good wit' his hands… an' his stamina."

They tidied up from breakfast, and Remy swapped into some dirty clothes he didn't mind getting ruined. When he came down to the garage, where Rogue had her own radio playing and was already getting the bulky piece of machinery prepped. She had her gloves back on, her hair loosely tied back into a messy bun, and the car was jacked up a few feet so someone could get underneath it easily. (2)

She handed him a headlamp and some tools as she asked, "Alright, Cajun. You sure yer up fer this? It's gonna take some time ta get it all installed."

He nodded, strapping on the headlamp and grabbing some working gloves for himself, "All good, chère. Jus' be specific wit' the instructions, an' I help ya get it done."

She sighed with a smirk, nodding her head in the direction of the car, "First things first; I'mma need ya on the underside fer this, so hop on that creeper, and get comfy."
She easily lifted the transmission onto her shoulder with the ease that even lifelong body builders could never have matched.

"Right" he said without hesitation, swinging the sliding board that was designed to be laid back on for extended periods of time under a car, and he slid himself head first under the car's front end and switched on the flashlight.

"You should have everythin' ya need under there, but if yer missin' somethin', just holler and I'll grab it fer ya."

Rogue proceeded to move the transmission into place in the car's hood, and told Remy exactly what he needed to do and what he was looking for.

"Alright, y' see that connection point? Under where the gears are?"

"Oui," he replied clearly.

"Take some of those bolts that should be next to ya and grab a wrench that fits 'em. Tighten some int' place and it'll help free up ma hands a bit."

"You got it."

Remy had been right about being a quick learner, but it only helped that Rogue was as thorough with a car as he was with lockpicking. She knew her way around this car like it was the back of her hand, and it made it all the easier for Remy to understand her instructions.

Everytime they hit a snag here or there, it only took a moment of troubleshooting to figure out what the issue was, and they were back on track.

Hours went by, and the two took a short break when Rogue could leave the transmission in the car and not have to worry about it getting offset. Remy would run inside to grab them some water, while Rogue stretched out her arms and shoulders—even with superstrength, her limbs could still get tired and stiff from extended use. Within a few minutes and some light banter, they'd be back at it, with Rogue eager to get it done as soon as possible; mostly because she already felt like she had been occupying too much of Remy's time, and he didn't need to be spending it helping her so intensely. But Remy, of course, never minded spending any length of time in her presence, taking every opportunity to remind her of that fact.

Sure, she probably could have waited until Scott, Hank, or Logan came home—they car had more experience with cars than Remy did, and she probably wouldn't have had to explain so much about what to look for or do—but in the end, she was secretly happy Remy was working on this with her. He absolutely didn't have to, but the fact that he was doing this, not only without complaint, but also seemed genuinely curious about learning what she was teaching him… it felt like they were bonding in a way they hadn't really gotten to do before.

After the last bits were tightened and the seals were secured, Remy emerged from under the car and Rogue shut the hood before lowering the car back down the ground. Remy grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his face with, which had become sweaty and oil covered over the day, but damn, did he feel good. It was invigorating to fix something as complicated and detailed as this. He admired Rogue's knowledge and expertise as he got lost in thought, watching her finish lowering the jacks.

Once she finished, Rogue let her hair down and wiped her brow with her grease-stained glove, smearing even more dirt on her otherwise flawless skin. She decided to take it for a short test drive to make sure the gears were shifting properly, "Wanna join me? Or is my drivin' still too intimidatin' fer ya?"

Remy scoffed with a charming smirk,"Y' kiddin'? Jus' try 'n stop me."

They hopped into the car and within minutes, Rogue was already steering them down the side roads that connected the Institute to the rest of Westchester County. Wind in their hair rushing past their ears, her driving was still as aggressive as ever, but Remy didn't mind it one bit. She was making sure the gears were all shifting and not getting stuck or shuddering, so she had to make sure it could handle anything she'd throw at it.

"The ol' gal's purrin' like she's fresh off the lot," Rogue said, as she shifted back down and started taking them back to the mansion, "I couldna done it without yer help, Remy."

"Ah, chère, y' give me too much credit. It's only 'cause o' you holdin' my hand the whole way through it that I could be a fraction o' help. But I be glad t' be of service anytime y' need some extra hands."

She smiled over at him with something in her eye that Remy could only have described as endearing.

Less than thirty minutes later, they were parking the car in the garage, and there was still no sign that the rest of the team had come home. They quickly stored all the tools away before Rogue sat on the workbench, sighing with a sound of mild exhaustion, "I wonder if we should check in with 'em…? Make sure they don't need any back up or nothin'."(3)

"If they was in any kind o' trouble, we woulda heard somethin' on the comms," Remy said to soothe her anxiety, gesturing to their watches that acted as more incognito communicators.

"I know but… I just worry. Like maybe they can't contact us fer some reason…" she could've gone on with scenarios that she'd been conjuring up in her mind, However, Remy recognized that sometimes a little reassurance was all that was needed.

Remy leaned on the bench beside her, "Tell y' what; we get a decent meal in us, and then, if we don' hear from 'em by sundown, we head t' the War Room an' we check in wit' 'em."

She sighed, "Yeah… that sounds good."

"Good, 'cause I got an idea 'bout what we can fix up fo' some dinner."

Her feet slightly kicked back and forth in excitement, "Ooh, do tell."

He stood upright as he described it, giving her a suggestive sideways glance, "I do ya one better; we cook it t'gether."

Her eyes went wide as she realized what he was implying, "Remy… you know I ain't got no skills in a kitchen, unless ya want everythin' endin' up as burnt as freshly paved asphalt."

He gave her an odd look, "Don't mean y' can't learn a thing o' two."

Rogue hesitated, but Remy swooped in, standing in front of her before tapping her chin lightly with his still gloved hand to draw her attention to him, soothing her, "Listen, it jus' be food. It ain't life o' death. An' I be right there wit'cha the whole time."

She visibly relaxed with a soft laugh, realizing she was making a mountain out of a molehill, "Well, ya best be real patient with me, Cajun."

That familiar glow in his eyes flickered as he drawled lazily, "Fo' you, mon cœur… I got all the time in the world."

While the air between them was thick, the distance between them was near non-existent. God, Remy would kill to kiss her right then and there. He watched as her eyes flitted down to his lips and back up again. He knew he needed to put some space between them before they both did something they'd regret, but she somehow always managed to ensnare his attention in a way no other woman could.

Remy was about to step back, in an attempt to give her some space, but felt her hands on his sides. It was light—barely a feather of a touch as she held his shirt—but she was silently telling him to not go, if a little hesitantly.

With barely any air in her voice, she cooed, "Thank you again… fer yer help, sugah."

The statement held so many implications that Remy could only smirk as his own hands loosely held her sides, ever mindful of her exposed skin, "At yo' service, chère."

They stayed there for a little while, with only a breath separation between them, in quiet and mutual admiration, as if they could concentrate hard enough to tell each other how much they wanted this to be so much more. But for now… this was it for them; quiet moments to just exist in each other's proximity, letting the weight of the other's gravity hold onto them.

Remy tempted leaning forward, but Rogue was quick to move away at the notion of contact, that familiar worrying look in her vibrant emerald green eyes staring right back up at him.

He said under his breath, "Jus'... let me?"

She didn't move a muscle as Remy held her head, pressing a kiss into her hair, but he could hear her let out a small sigh.

Once they'd had some time, Rogue finally spoke quietly, breaking the spell they'd been under, "I'm gonna grab a shower… don't wan' oil and grease all up in our food."

He chuckled, "Wouldn' wan' that now…"

He slowly pulled Rogue off the workbench, setting her down on her feet before they left the garage to head back upstairs for them both to shower off the sweat and grime from the day. They parted ways to head to their own rooms, with only fleeting glances toward one another and small smiles of giddiness between them.

Once they were both cleaned off and dressed in some comfier loungewear,—Rogue's skin now covered in her usual fashion with a fitted long-sleeve henley shirt and some thin sweatpants—the Southern pair reconvened in the kitchen, where Remy had already gotten all the ingredients for the meal out on the island. Nothing was prepared, and it looked like they were going to be making everything from scratch.

The radio was switched on, and Remy couldn't help the feisty grin on his face. (4)

"Y' may wanna take off them gloves, chère," Remy said as he was grabbing the last of the ingredients, which looked to be bags of shrimp, "Otherwise, they gon' get ruined real quick."

She eyed her hands, nervous to be without her security blanket, but she knew it wasn't ideal to cook with cloth gloves on. She quietly wondered if there were any latex gloves laying around somewhere. Probably in the lab downstairs, but figured it wasn't worth it.

She said with a resigned sigh, peeling off the fabric from her hands and setting them aside, "Just be mindful…"

"O' course," he replied with a handsome smirk to ease her nerves, "Right, le's get started then, eh?"

"What're we makin'?" she asked curiously while eyeing the spread of ingredients and rolling up her sleeves.

"Cajun seafood boil wit' hush puppies an' fried okra. An'... got a plan fo' dessert too."

Rogue's mouth started instantly watering at the thought of some real Southern food, "Sounds like you went above an' beyond gettin' all these ingredients then."

Remy shrugged his shoulders as he pulled out a massive pot and got it on the stove, "The boil be easy 'nough, but the hush puppies… we be followin' m' Tante's recipe fo' that. Needed some extra love goin' int' those."

Rogue asked what she could start with, and Remy was ready, asking if she was good to cut some onions, which she'd only ever had bad experiences with. She could never stop herself from tearing up everytime she cut them, but she wanted to help. She pulled out a knife and cutting board, quickly peeling the onions before trying to cut them into rings. Just as she started cutting, Remy placed a small piece of damp paper towel in the corner of her board.

"What's that for?" she asked, confused by the action.

He explained as he got his own cutting station set up to cut some potatoes, "Stops the onion from burnin' yo' eyes. Whatever it is that makes people tear up, it's attracted t' moisture. So if y' put down somethin' damp closer to the onion, it'll go there instead."

It was so simple, but as she kept cutting, she noticed that the sting that she'd experienced before was barely there, "That's a neat trick, Swamp Rat."

He chuckled, "Got plenty mo' where that came from."

After the vegetables were cut, Remy and Rogue set to work on peeling the shrimp, which Remy had to show her how to do. She mangled a few, as finesse wasn't always her strong suit, but after the fifth or sixth shrimp, she started getting the rhythm for it.

Remy was always willing to let her try something first, unless she had no experience with it at all, and he would only step in to demonstrate or help if she asked him for it. He made no assumptions about her skills, but knowing she avoided cooking chores like the plague let him know she probably had one too many poor incidents with cooking and would need some gentle instruction.

"See? Y' got a knack fo' this," he encouraged her, as she finished the last of her shrimp.

She laughed, "Only 'cause yer makin' it seem so easy."

"Years o' practice don't mean we don' all start somewhere," he said, grabbing the ingredients for the hush puppies.

He told her what they were going to do for the hush puppies, and Rogue felt much more capable of getting it all prepped as he told her the measurements while he was cutting the sausage and corn cobs.

Before long, the kitchen was full of nostalgic smells and all the spices Remy had grown up with. It made him oddly sentimental—longing for home, which wasn't usual for him. It'd been a minute since he'd gotten homesick; probably due to the years being on the road before finding a place with the X-Men. He'd long since given up on the idea that he'd ever be welcome back in Louisiana.

It only took a glance at Rogue—who was bopping along with the music as she started mixing the ingredients together in a metal bowl, her face concentrating hard on the task at hand—for Remy to have those feelings fade to the back of his mind once again, if only because being around her made him feel like he was always home… no matter where they were.

"Remy?"

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard her say his name, realizing he'd been caught staring, "Sorry, chère. Just got lost fo' a minute."

She smirked, her voice light, "Somethin' on yer mind?" (5)

He turned back to his chopping board, "Was jus' thinkin' 'bout back home."

Rogue paused before she said, "You… don't talk about home much…"

He shrugged, not wanting to relive more of the unpleasant memories of his past, "Not much t' say is all."

She then asked, "Would ya tell me 'bout yer Tante?"

Remy looked over at her and saw the genuine curious look in her eyes. He couldn't help himself as he resumed his work, "She practically raised me in many ways. Was the only mother-like figure I had in m' life… taught me 'bout voodoo and mysticism, some basic first aid, an' she always had the best recipes of anyone in the Guild. She don' have much love fo' many in the Thieves Guild, but… she seemed t' take a shine t' me when I was still young."

Rogue laughed, "She sounds like a good judge of character… or… you were always a li'l charmer."

He scoffed as he explained, "I was a street kid… she mo' then likely pitied me."

Rogue asked pointedly, "She ever say that?"

He paused, "Non, but…"

As much as Remy had always felt part of the Thieves Guild, with Jean-Luc and Tante Mattie never treating him differently than his brother or cousins, Remy always wondered if they ever fully accepted him. As talented a thief as he was, he was still a mutant…

"Remy?" Rogue asked, "Ya went away again."

Remy sighed, not wanting to ruin the mood, "Maybe we change the subject, eh?"

He could hear the hesitation in Rogue's voice as she said, "Alright…"

While she mixed the ingredients together, some of the flour had splashed back up into her face, startling her a little as she let out a small squeak in surprise.

Remy turned to her, thinking she'd dropped something, "Y' okay?"

"I'm fine. Just fightin' this mixin' bowl is all," she waved him off with a short laugh.

Remy saw some flour on her cheek and forehead, which made her look adorable with the concentrated look she had in contrast. His hand had instinctually moved to wipe it off, but when she saw his hand get close, she abruptly moved back, "Careful!"

Withdrawing his hand, he said quietly, as he gestured to his own face so as to imply what he meant to do, "Y' got some…"

"Oh…"

She set the bowl down to clean it off, but Remy had another idea. He slipped the tea towel that he had hanging from his waist out with a swift jolt, and carefully used it to brush off the flour from her cheek, letting his hand linger a little longer than he probably should have. He only let his hand fall away after he started to feel the warmth from her skin that matched the pink flush that dusted them.

"Y' got mo' flour on ya then the back of a boulangerie," he teased playfully, getting back to his work.

Rogue shook her head as she retorted in equal measure, "I'll pretend like I know what that means."

They worked away for the next hour, prepping all the ingredients and getting them started on cooking. Remy set up the deep fryer for the okra and hush puppies while the boil cooked away in another pot.

Rogue decided she was going to watch Remy do the frying, unsure that she wouldn't cause something to burn. Remy agreed to fry them all himself, but encouraged her to help him dredge the okra so he could manage the frying, which she agreed to.

Rogue teased him about always making so much fried food, and that she was jealous of his ability to eat so much that was cooked in oil without it affecting his waistline.

"It definitely don' come fo' free. I pay my tax fo' in the gym."

Rogue nodded, remembering seeing Remy regularly doing his time in the gym. Even outside Danger Room sessions, Remy probably exercised more than anyone else on the team… and it showed.

"Ya gotta burn it off somehow," she said, with a mischievous smile, "Maybe I should start joinin' ya fer some workouts… if yer gonna keep feedin' us all these kinda foods."

He chuckled, "You can join me anytime y' wan', chère. No need for any excuse t' enjoy yo' company."

"I'll take you up on that…" she said back.

Remy gave her a quick look and saw the sultry smile on her lips and the sideways glance she made. Her head tilted a little to the side, causing some of her wild and floral scented hair to fall over her shoulder. The man could've stared at her all day if she would always look at him like that.

After a few seconds, she commented with a smile and nod of her chin toward the fryer, "Yer puppies are burnin', sugah."

She laughed as he quickly turned his attention back to the frying food, easily taking them out so they could drain and cool.

After making a Cajun butter sauce, and getting everything seasoned, garnished, and set out on the island, dinner was ready. They'd made more than enough for the rest of the team to enjoy whenever they got home, so they felt entitled to stacking their plates full. (6)

The pair sat down at the dinner table, Rogue slipping her gloves back on as Remy almost magically produced a bottle of white wine from the wine cellar, pouring them both a glass. Rogue eyed him, knowing that the bottle was from the Professor's stash, but Remy waved it off, "Only the best fo' a seafood spread like this."

They sat across from one another, as they raised their glasses, giving a small clink before taking a sip, "Bon appétit, chère."

As they started to eat, their hands their primary utensils, Rogue couldn't help but comment at how delicious everything tasted, "It's some of the best cookin' I've had in an age."

Remy said, "It always tastes better when y' make it yo'self."

She shook her head, "You did all the work, sugah. I was just an extra set of hands."

"Well… I take yo' hands any day o' the week," he added with a complimentary tone.

She looked away bashfully—maybe his attention was too intense, but he meant every word. He'd enjoyed spending time with her like this today. They so rarely got opportunities to be alone together and to just… be. It became precious to him; to be able to share things they were both passionate about with each other, and have fun together doing it.

Once they'd finished their dinner and put their dishes away, Remy asked, "You ready fo' some dessert, chère?"

She nodded eagerly, "After that meal, I can't imagine how ya could possibly top it."

"Gimme twenty minutes, an' I find a way," he drawled as he got out some liquor from the cabinet—rum to be specific.

Rogue eyed him curiously as he got the last of the ingredients they needed, "What's yer plan, Swamp Rat?"

"Aww chère, can' a man have his surprises?"

She smiled, hands on her hips defiantly, "Not when it comes ta food."

He chuckled, "FIne… we makin' Bananas Foster."

Rogue had never had the dessert, so she didn't know what to expect, "What is it?"

"Mostly caramel bananas with some ice cream and rum. Y' put it over somethin' like crepes, but the best part is in how it's prepared."

"Why's that?"

He pulled out a playing card from God knows where, and ignited it with his powers, incinerating it in a second, "Y' flambé it."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as he continued, "An' yo' gon' be doin' that part, ma chère."

She laughed, "Ya really are just tryin' ta get me ta burn the whole house down t'day, aren't cha?"

He joked with a small shrug of his shoulders, "Perhaps… a li'l."

Remy got her started on making the crepe batter so they'd have something to put the toppings on, while he prepped the skillet for both the crepes and the bananas.

Once it was all mixed, Remy showed her how to get perfectly thin, even crepes every time. They made over a dozen, with some casualties in Rogue's wake. However, like with the shrimp, she soon got the hang of it, and even managed to flip most of them without having them tear or burn.

"Au naturale," Remy commented as he watched her becoming more comfortable with the process.

"So… what's the point of flambéin' stuff?" she asked earnestly, flipping the last of the crepes over to finish cooking, "I never understood why people would wanna light their food on fire."

"It's so that y' can burn off the strong alcohol, but get the rest of the flavor from it. Y' usually use high proof stuff, which has a bigger ignition, an' causes that fun burst o' flames. That always be the best part."

She laughed, "I wonder sometimes if yer not secretly a pyromaniac."

"Secretly…?" he asked sarcastically, causing her to laugh even harder.

"'Kay, so what's next?" she asked as she set aside the small stack of crepes.

"Next… be the fun part," he replied, showing her how to cut the bananas so he could measure out the spices and other ingredients. (7)

Once everything was all in the pan, melting and bubbling away, Remy had Rogue stand at the stovetop with her gloved hand on the pan.
He stood behind her, asking cordially, "May I?"

There was a brief pause before she nodded, letting him slide his hand along hers to help guide her movements.

"We gon' have t' do this fast, chère… else it'll burn."

He could feel her nerves getting the better of her, as his arms cradled her form. It was rare to catch his Mississippi River Rat so unsure of herself. Her brash confidence was something he'd always loved in her. She could take on the likes of Juggernaut without batting those luscious lashes of hers, but get her in front of a few bananas and an open flame, and she was all nerves.

He guided her hands to gently lift the pan away from the burner as Remy quickly switched it off, not wanting to cause an actual fire. They tossed the caramel and bananas around, coating them with the sticky substance. As they did, Remy reached over and grabbed the bottle of rum, and added it into the pan.

"Alright, y' ready?" he asked excitedly in her ear.

"As I'll ever be…" she answered honestly.

Remy grabbed a long matchstick, and set the end alight with the tap of his finger, handing it to Rogue, "'Kay, keep 'er steady, an' jus' lower it in slowly 'til it ignites."

His hand wrapped around hers on the pan handle to keep her stable, in case she jumped in surprise, while the other guided her hand to light it…

A burst of flame erupted and the pan became a ball of fire, causing Rogue to jump back a little in surprise, even though she anticipated it, "Ahh!"

Her shock dissolved into giggles though, and Remy could only laugh along with her, keeping her hand steady on the handle as he moved her arm back and forth to toss the contents together.

"See? Ain't nothin' to it," he said with ease.

Her laughs faded as she asked, "Alright, monsieur chef. Now that it's on fire… how do we put it out so it don't burn?"

Remy reached over for the lid to the pan, and just covered it with a swift, metallic clack, saying in her ear, "Y' smother it."

After a second, he removed it, and the fire was gone, leaving only a delicious looking and smelling caramelized banana delight.

"Huh…" she said dumbfounded, turning back up at him with a coy look, "Well that was easy."

"I told ya… ain't nothin' to it," he repeated with a smirk. He grabbed the crepes and the pint of ice cream, leading her to the table so they could enjoy their dessert. While Remy plated and served, Rogue asked Remy if he wanted anything for a drink, getting him a bourbon while she had one of Logan's beers from the fridge.

They enjoyed their dessert with just as much delight as their dinners, and Remy found himself not wanting this day to end.

So as they cleaned up their dishes and headed down to the War Room to contact the team, Remy asked, "If everythin' be alright wit' the others… how 'bout you an' I have a movie night t' cap off the evenin'?"

Rogue gave him a sideways look as she tapped her chin, feigning deep thought as she said, "Well now, that depends…"

"On what?"

She smiled, "The movie..."

He grinned like a cat, "We can watch whatever y' wan', chère. I ain't got no pref'rences."

She laughed, "Let's just hope the team is doin' alright, 'er else our plans may get derailed."

Once they fired up the comms, Rogue was ready and sent out their message, "Rogue ta Cyclops; how're y'all fairin'?"

There were a few seconds of silence, so she tried again, "Rogue ta Cyclops; come in."

Remy watched as she gave him a confused look. However, before they could think on much longer, the comms came to life with a response, "Cyclops to Rogue. We're all good here. Just finishing up and we're on our way home."

The pair sighed with relief as their leader asked, "Everything okay on your end?"

Remy smirked at Rogue as she gave a soft smile, "All quiet here, Cyke. We got some food waitin' fer y'all when ya get in."

The pair swore they could hear Jubilee and Hank in the background of Scott's comms, expressing their joy at the news of a home cooked meal ready for them, "Thanks, Rogue. The team's looking forward to it. ETA is roughly two hours."

"Sounds good, Scott. Get back safe, an' holler if ya need us."

A quick flick of a switch, and they were off to enjoy the rest of their night.

While Remy freshened up their drinks, Rogue picked out a movie from their VHS collection and got things started by the time Remy returned. He handed her another beer, seeing how cozy she'd already gotten with a blanket and some pillows, as he sat on the couch beside her, his own bourbon in hand.

He asked as he got settled in next to her, "What's on the docket?"

"Some sappy old romance that looked interestin'," she said passively, like she was not even remotely invested.

"C'est parfait," he replied.

However, within minutes, the music started playing over a black screen and it didn't sound like a typical romance movie soundtrack. Ten minutes in and there were jump scares and murderers running around, trying to kill some teenagers, and Rogue was beside herself snickering at him as he tried to not show how scared he actually was—failing miserably. He knew Rogue had a secret love for horror movies, but this was diabolical.

After a particularly intense scene, Rogue was laughing hysterically at Remy's jump when the music stinger played, and Remy nearly spilled his drink all over himself.

"Ha ha, chère…" he groaned playfully.

Her laugh echoed off as she leaned over, "Here, let me…"

She hooked her arm around his waist as she leaned into his side, her head resting against his shoulder. Remy stiffened for a second at the sudden initiation of physical contact—something he wasn't always used to from Rogue—, but relaxed as she cooed, "I'll protect you from the big bad serial killer, sugah."

He smirked to himself as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, letting her lay more into him as they got comfortable in their new position. He could still smell the pleasant floral aromas of various shampoos and body washes from her shower, and relished the warmth of her body pressing into his. God, this all felt so right.

He wasn't sure how, but before the movie even ended, Rogue had completely fallen asleep against him. Her soft snores and even breathing telling him she was well and truly knocked out from the long day, and he couldn't bring himself to wake her. The credits rolled, and Remy quietly reached for the remote to switch it off, letting the room fall into ambient silence.

He must've been in and out of consciousness, because not long after, he swore he could hear the voices of their fellow X-Men in the mansion, and even possibly, the voice of Scott telling Ororo that giving Rogue and Remy the day off together was a great idea on her part.

"Yes… I think they certainly made the most of their time," he knew he could hear Storm's voice whispering from just inside the room, possibly checking in on them before the team headed for their dinner.

He smirked to himself as he held Rogue just that little bit closer as he let sleep take him as well.

I hope this was a fun read! I didn't go over it multiple times like I usually do to edit it, so there may be more spelling/grammar errors than usual, but I wanted to finish this so I could get back to writing 'Fresh Start'.

Let me know if you enjoyed this fic with a like/comment/kudos/etc. It really helps keep me motivated to write more!

Until Next Time…