Aaand now I'm writing Gambit/Rogue.
What on Earth has become of me?
01. Permanence
The nightmares come too easily, too fluid and too vivid like the alien memories that steal the sacred space inside her head. Places she remembers but has never seen swirl and meld into the memories she’d lived out as herself; their edges run in muddy watercolor streaks into the guarded thoughts she’s fought so hard and failed to keep pristine. The colors leech together with the tides of foreign feeling welling up in her throat. They make her sick until her dreams go grey and fling her, raw and screaming, back to earth.
Rogue throws the covers back and jolts up, shaking. Gloves yanked onto trembling fingers and sleeves pulled down over her hands, she pads on silent feet down the hall. His doorknob turns easily even with the layers of fabric that slip on her palms, metal-on-metal creaking quietly to set his thief’s ears on an edge
.
She slides into bed behind him, pressed close against the heat of Remy’s back, her arms drawn tight around him and her hands held fast by his. He feels like warmth and permanence. His bourbon voice is rough with sleep.
“Hold tight as you need, Chere. Dis one’ll be here when you wake.”
02. Striptease
“No, Ah will not!”
“C’mon, Chere, not even just a little?”
“You are flirtin’ with disaster, Swamp Rat.”
“An’ what’s life wit’out a little flirting, non?”
“Ah should think we do enough of that already, thank y’all very much.”
“I’d rather be doin’ it while you’ wearin’ quite a bit less than y’ are now,”
“How can Ah trust that y’ll keep ya grabby, lecherous paws t’ yourself?”
“You wound, Rogue.”
“Ah just might, whether or not Ah decide t’ acquiesce t’ your request.”
“No fair, girl, usin’ de big words when you know dis one’s brain ain’t fit for processin’ anything but your ass pressed up against his-”
“Then quit processin’, and enjoy it while you have it, ‘cause once the clothes start comin’ off, you’ll have entirely too much to think about and not enough t’ be touchin’.”
“Is dat a yes?”
“…just this once.”
“Slow down, Chere, I feel like I should take a minute to thank whatever deity be smilin’ on me at dis moment in time-”
“Gawd’s sake, Rem! Figures the one time Ah’m offerin’ t’ take my clothes off for y’, and y’all are tellin’ me to wait?”
“Can’t a Catholic boy appreciate what he’s been given fo’ a second?”
“Jus’ shut up an’ stare, ‘cause this ain’t never happening again.”
“You’ wish is my command.”
She smirks.
“No touchee, m’love.”
03. Sinking Feeling
He finds her sitting in the center of the bed, back leaned against the headboard, one knee drawn up to her chest. It’s long past noon and light streams through the curtains, but her body is still swathed in long sleeves and sleep pants, toes in their fleecy socks just peeking out from under the cuffs. One arm sits draped around the waist of a matted, floppy old stuffed bear.
“Been lookin’ fo’ you all day, sneaky girl,” he says, a smile breaking into his voice. “Where’d you get off to de whole livelong day?
“D’you ever get scared sometimes, Rem?” she asks. “For no reason?” Doe eyes search his and he blinks-and he isn’t sure what answer to give, all out of the blue like that.
He sits on the edge of the bed. “Scared ‘bout what, Chere?”
Rogue sighs. “Nothin’. Everythin’. Ah was fine all morning.” She toys with a thread hanging from one tattered teddy bear foot. “Then Ah went down to the library and jus’…fear. Out of nowhere.”
She reaches for her gloves on the side table and scoots closer to him, tugging them over her fingers. Her hands twist together in her lap. “Ah went for a walk. For hours. Ah jus’…couldn’t shake it. Ah even went looking for you for a bit, but…”
“M’here now,” Remy says, drawing her into his side, an arm about her shoulders. She gives him a thin smile and moves to lay her hand against his cheek, but he starts and catches her wrist, and her fingers don’t quite make it that far.
There’s a small tear at the seam of one of the fingers.
Rogue jerks away from him like she’s been burned and yanks the gloves off, throwing them against the wall and wrenching open a side table drawer as if it’d done her some great personal harm. She fumbles with the new pair, suddenly shaking and staring through eyes so glassy he doubts she can even see straight.
And in that same instant she’s back in his arms, his hands running from her shoulders down to covered wrists, long careful strokes meant to soothe. “Shhh, Anna,” Remy murmurs, his lips safe against her hair. “Y’ won’ hurt me. It’s okay.” Slowly, it lulls her back to stillness, curled close in his lap. Her hands fisted into his shirt, the last of the trembling subsides.
04. Wake-Up Call
Her eyes spring open at the sound of the small explosion above her head.
“Up an’ at ‘em, Roguey!”
One peal of jubilant laughter later, Remy yanks the covers, sheets and all, clean off the bed before the remains of his tiny charged paper ball can drift down around her. Rogue hisses and curls into the fetal position against the offending onslaught of cold air.
“Y’all are mean,” she groans into the pillow clutched to her face. “Downright stinkin’ mean, Remy Etienne LeBeau.”
“Jus’ doin’ my duty, Chere.” His grin is equal parts innocent and incriminating. Any other day she’d think it’s cute, but it is 5:30 in the morning and right now Rogue wants to slap it clean off his handsome face. “You promised dis one could chuck you on de back of his bike an’ spirit you away fo’ de day.”
She scowls like a cat that’s had its fur rubbed the wrong way. “Not without mah coffee, y’ain’t.”
He rolls his gemstone eyes, that maddening smile fixed permanently on his lips as he ruffles her sleep-tousled hair. She swats at his hand. “C’mon, girl, you can do it,” he says, laughter spilling around the edges of that honey-bourbon voice. “Upsy-daisy. Dis one’s got an agenda, and you be foilin’ it.”
Remy hoists her slight body upright, and Rogue makes a big show of flopping exaggeratedly back down onto the mattress. Her face hits the pillow with a pfff.
“Too…weak,” she moans, muffled by fabric and feathers. “Need…coffee.”
“Oh yeah?”
She can’t see his cheshire grin with a pillow in her face. He lunges at her with tickling fingers and Rogue nearly somersaults off the other side of the bed, arms tight around her sides to protect herself. “What the seven hells was that for?”
He grins like Sylvester with Tweety Bird’s feathers sticking out the side of his mouth. “Got you up, didn’t it?”
“I might hate you jus’ a little.”
“If dis one brings you coffee while you get dressed an’ promises to take you to breakfast, will dat make it better?” Her eyes narrow.
He swings out the bedroom door to fire up the Keurig, and throws back over his shoulder, “I’ll take dat blistering glare as a yes.”
05. Childish
“Are you fo’ real, right now?”
Rogue flounces back to the couch, DVD case tucked under her arm, and snuggles up against Remy’s side. “Y’all promised Ah could pick the movie this time,” she says with a businesslike toss of her hair. “And Ah demand princesses. None of those things-that-go-bump-in-the-night movies you like watchin’.”
As the opening sequence of Beauty and the Beast rolls across the screen, Remy heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Why does dis one feel like you’ tryin’ t’ insinuate somethin’, here, ‘bout him havin’ beastly tendencies?”
“Ah haven’t the foggiest idea what y’all are gettin’ at, love,” she smirks.
“Unless you’ insinuatin’ dat dis one is an animal in bed-”
“Remy!”
“-I’m not so sure I’m likin’ dat comparison.”
“And what if I am?” she challenges-but not without blushing something fierce.
“Den I’d be inclined to prove dat statement true as de sky is blue,” he says, voice suddenly husky and deep, aching to run his tongue around the shell of her ear just to watch those pretty cheeks redden even more. He settles for nipping at her fabric-clad shoulder instead.
Rogue bats his wandering hands away from where they’ve snaked beneath her breasts and feels herself flush all the way to her toes, turning her burning face where he can’t see. “Ah’d like my innocence back now, thank y’all very much.”
01. Permanence
The nightmares come too easily, too fluid and too vivid like the alien memories that steal the sacred space inside her head. Places she remembers but has never seen swirl and meld into the memories she’d lived out as herself; their edges run in muddy watercolor streaks into the guarded thoughts she’s fought so hard and failed to keep pristine. The colors leech together with the tides of foreign feeling welling up in her throat. They make her sick until her dreams go grey and fling her, raw and screaming, back to earth.
Rogue throws the covers back and jolts up, shaking. Gloves yanked onto trembling fingers and sleeves pulled down over her hands, she pads on silent feet down the hall. His doorknob turns easily even with the layers of fabric that slip on her palms, metal-on-metal creaking quietly to set his thief’s ears on an edge
.
She slides into bed behind him, pressed close against the heat of Remy’s back, her arms drawn tight around him and her hands held fast by his. He feels like warmth and permanence. His bourbon voice is rough with sleep.
“Hold tight as you need, Chere. Dis one’ll be here when you wake.”
02. Striptease
“No, Ah will not!”
“C’mon, Chere, not even just a little?”
“You are flirtin’ with disaster, Swamp Rat.”
“An’ what’s life wit’out a little flirting, non?”
“Ah should think we do enough of that already, thank y’all very much.”
“I’d rather be doin’ it while you’ wearin’ quite a bit less than y’ are now,”
“How can Ah trust that y’ll keep ya grabby, lecherous paws t’ yourself?”
“You wound, Rogue.”
“Ah just might, whether or not Ah decide t’ acquiesce t’ your request.”
“No fair, girl, usin’ de big words when you know dis one’s brain ain’t fit for processin’ anything but your ass pressed up against his-”
“Then quit processin’, and enjoy it while you have it, ‘cause once the clothes start comin’ off, you’ll have entirely too much to think about and not enough t’ be touchin’.”
“Is dat a yes?”
“…just this once.”
“Slow down, Chere, I feel like I should take a minute to thank whatever deity be smilin’ on me at dis moment in time-”
“Gawd’s sake, Rem! Figures the one time Ah’m offerin’ t’ take my clothes off for y’, and y’all are tellin’ me to wait?”
“Can’t a Catholic boy appreciate what he’s been given fo’ a second?”
“Jus’ shut up an’ stare, ‘cause this ain’t never happening again.”
“You’ wish is my command.”
She smirks.
“No touchee, m’love.”
03. Sinking Feeling
He finds her sitting in the center of the bed, back leaned against the headboard, one knee drawn up to her chest. It’s long past noon and light streams through the curtains, but her body is still swathed in long sleeves and sleep pants, toes in their fleecy socks just peeking out from under the cuffs. One arm sits draped around the waist of a matted, floppy old stuffed bear.
“Been lookin’ fo’ you all day, sneaky girl,” he says, a smile breaking into his voice. “Where’d you get off to de whole livelong day?
“D’you ever get scared sometimes, Rem?” she asks. “For no reason?” Doe eyes search his and he blinks-and he isn’t sure what answer to give, all out of the blue like that.
He sits on the edge of the bed. “Scared ‘bout what, Chere?”
Rogue sighs. “Nothin’. Everythin’. Ah was fine all morning.” She toys with a thread hanging from one tattered teddy bear foot. “Then Ah went down to the library and jus’…fear. Out of nowhere.”
She reaches for her gloves on the side table and scoots closer to him, tugging them over her fingers. Her hands twist together in her lap. “Ah went for a walk. For hours. Ah jus’…couldn’t shake it. Ah even went looking for you for a bit, but…”
“M’here now,” Remy says, drawing her into his side, an arm about her shoulders. She gives him a thin smile and moves to lay her hand against his cheek, but he starts and catches her wrist, and her fingers don’t quite make it that far.
There’s a small tear at the seam of one of the fingers.
Rogue jerks away from him like she’s been burned and yanks the gloves off, throwing them against the wall and wrenching open a side table drawer as if it’d done her some great personal harm. She fumbles with the new pair, suddenly shaking and staring through eyes so glassy he doubts she can even see straight.
And in that same instant she’s back in his arms, his hands running from her shoulders down to covered wrists, long careful strokes meant to soothe. “Shhh, Anna,” Remy murmurs, his lips safe against her hair. “Y’ won’ hurt me. It’s okay.” Slowly, it lulls her back to stillness, curled close in his lap. Her hands fisted into his shirt, the last of the trembling subsides.
04. Wake-Up Call
Her eyes spring open at the sound of the small explosion above her head.
“Up an’ at ‘em, Roguey!”
One peal of jubilant laughter later, Remy yanks the covers, sheets and all, clean off the bed before the remains of his tiny charged paper ball can drift down around her. Rogue hisses and curls into the fetal position against the offending onslaught of cold air.
“Y’all are mean,” she groans into the pillow clutched to her face. “Downright stinkin’ mean, Remy Etienne LeBeau.”
“Jus’ doin’ my duty, Chere.” His grin is equal parts innocent and incriminating. Any other day she’d think it’s cute, but it is 5:30 in the morning and right now Rogue wants to slap it clean off his handsome face. “You promised dis one could chuck you on de back of his bike an’ spirit you away fo’ de day.”
She scowls like a cat that’s had its fur rubbed the wrong way. “Not without mah coffee, y’ain’t.”
He rolls his gemstone eyes, that maddening smile fixed permanently on his lips as he ruffles her sleep-tousled hair. She swats at his hand. “C’mon, girl, you can do it,” he says, laughter spilling around the edges of that honey-bourbon voice. “Upsy-daisy. Dis one’s got an agenda, and you be foilin’ it.”
Remy hoists her slight body upright, and Rogue makes a big show of flopping exaggeratedly back down onto the mattress. Her face hits the pillow with a pfff.
“Too…weak,” she moans, muffled by fabric and feathers. “Need…coffee.”
“Oh yeah?”
She can’t see his cheshire grin with a pillow in her face. He lunges at her with tickling fingers and Rogue nearly somersaults off the other side of the bed, arms tight around her sides to protect herself. “What the seven hells was that for?”
He grins like Sylvester with Tweety Bird’s feathers sticking out the side of his mouth. “Got you up, didn’t it?”
“I might hate you jus’ a little.”
“If dis one brings you coffee while you get dressed an’ promises to take you to breakfast, will dat make it better?” Her eyes narrow.
He swings out the bedroom door to fire up the Keurig, and throws back over his shoulder, “I’ll take dat blistering glare as a yes.”
05. Childish
“Are you fo’ real, right now?”
Rogue flounces back to the couch, DVD case tucked under her arm, and snuggles up against Remy’s side. “Y’all promised Ah could pick the movie this time,” she says with a businesslike toss of her hair. “And Ah demand princesses. None of those things-that-go-bump-in-the-night movies you like watchin’.”
As the opening sequence of Beauty and the Beast rolls across the screen, Remy heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Why does dis one feel like you’ tryin’ t’ insinuate somethin’, here, ‘bout him havin’ beastly tendencies?”
“Ah haven’t the foggiest idea what y’all are gettin’ at, love,” she smirks.
“Unless you’ insinuatin’ dat dis one is an animal in bed-”
“Remy!”
“-I’m not so sure I’m likin’ dat comparison.”
“And what if I am?” she challenges-but not without blushing something fierce.
“Den I’d be inclined to prove dat statement true as de sky is blue,” he says, voice suddenly husky and deep, aching to run his tongue around the shell of her ear just to watch those pretty cheeks redden even more. He settles for nipping at her fabric-clad shoulder instead.
Rogue bats his wandering hands away from where they’ve snaked beneath her breasts and feels herself flush all the way to her toes, turning her burning face where he can’t see. “Ah’d like my innocence back now, thank y’all very much.”