Have another 5 Rogue/Gambit drabbles.
Yup. As usual, tell me if they suck and all that.
011. Hesitant
Her fingertips hover, trembling, just inches from his face.
“Y’ can touch me, love. It won’ hurt. Promise,” Remy murmurs. His breath is warm against her palm.
Depowered. She’s begged for this for so much of her life. He trusts her. There’s nothing left between them but skin. No more, no less than anyone else’s. But over a decade of living in constant fear isn’t so easily forgotten, and her bare hand falls to clench the fabric over his shoulder.
“It’s alright if you’ afraid, Rogue. I won’ make you do dis if y’ don’ want to.” He’ll wait until she’s comfortable enough with touching him before he’ll try to lay a hand on her, and it’s more comforting than she cares to admit.
(But he wants this just as bad as she does. Shouldn’t that be enough for her to close the distance?)
“Ah’m not afraid,” she lies, and slides her hand the rest of the way down his arm; she doesn’t trust her fingers not to shake, and doesn’t trust herself not to bolt if she breaks contact with his body. “Ah jus’ don’t know how long it’ll last, an’ if anythin’ happens to you-”
“Dis one wants, more’n anything, t’ be able t’ give you something you haven’ had in too long. I want t’ be dat for y’.” His jewel-dark eyes are soft and hopeful, pleading as they catch hers. “An if dat’s not t’ be, chere, den at least we can say we tried. Dat’s all dis one can ask for.”
She nods once to hide the effort it takes to swallow down her fear, and the pads of her fingers just brush the bare back of his hand. For the first time in years, she feels no pull.
012. Ringtones
“Jubilation Lee, you give me back mah phone, or Ah swear to God, Ah will kick your sorry behind from here t' Nova Scotia!”
“I knew it!” Jubilee shouts, eyes bright with triumph behind rose-colored glasses, the hem of her coat fluttering just inches out of Rogue’s reach as she sprints up the stairs. “I knew you had more than just a thing for him!” She gleefully starts punching buttons on the keypad.
“If you toss it back t’ me now, Ah’ll only kick you to Niagara Falls,” Rogue grits through clenched teeth, advancing up the stairs (she hopes) slowly enough to be threatening. “But so help me, if you go through mah inbox y’all won’t live to see dinner, let alone Canada!”
“It was only a matter of ti-i-ime, Rogue,” she sing-songs, skipping down the hall and searching furiously for the text message inbox. “Shoulda fessed up while you had the chance, seriously. Oh my God, you even set his ringtone to ‘Born on the Bayou’? Christ, Rogue you are a piece of work-”
The gleeful grin wipes clean off Jubilee’s face when a gloved thumb and olive-skinned forefinger pluck the stolen phone clean out of her hands. Remy tosses it back to Rogue right over the shorter girl’s head.
“Dose texts are private property, petite, an’ dis one would rather keep ‘em dat way,” he says, biting back laughter as Jubilee scowls like a wet cat and Rogue blushes furiously and tucks her cell back into her pocket. “An’ fo’ you’ information, dis one set his girl’s ringtone to ‘Toxic'.”
013. Zombie Hunters
He follows the agonizing sounds of death gurgles coming from the living room until he finds his girlfriend parked on the floor in front of the Xbox. “Girl, what’ve you been doin’ fo’ de past three hours-?”
“Shaddup, Rem!” Rogue mashes the buttons on the controller, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, focused on the television like her life depends on it. “Ah’m fendin’ off the zombie apocalypse! Grab the other controller!”
Remy plops onto the couch behind her and starts hitting buttons at random. “Why you’ playin’ two-player by you’self?”
“Cause Rahne got tired and left me to fend off the hordes all by mah lonesome! Yer character's got a shotgun an’ the A button shoots.”
“Why you playin’ dis game wit’ an eight-year-old? Dat shit is violent!”
“She was the one who brought the stupid thing t’ me an’ begged to play!”
“What de hell are de controls on dis thing?! Dis one doesn’ know what he’s doin!”
“Ah jus’ told you the A button’s the trigger, idjit! So help me, Rem, Ah will NOT die now Ah’ve only got three levels left!”
“Christe!” Remy furiously pounds the buttons on the controller trying to take down a mob of zombies that’ve spontaneously learned how to spit acid. “Takin’ on twenty Sentinels an’ Wolverine in the friggin’ Danger Room is easier than dis game!”
“Maybe,” Rogue laughs, piloting her zombie hunter into the fray, “but Ah’ve always thought it kinda sexy when a man knows how t’ use a big ol' gun.”
“If dis one’d known dat was all it took t’ get t’ you’ heart, he’d’ have tried his hand at killin’ zombies a long time ago.”
“Good thing ya didn’t!” Rogue takes out the last of the pixelated corpses harassing Remy’s character and grins, tossing her hair out of her face during the cut scene at the end of the level. “Y’ cain’t even figure out where the A button is!”
014. Got the Chills
Remy LeBeau is a blanket hog of the first degree.
It’s freezing in Rogue’s room, especially when her furnace of a significant other is cocooned in her quilt all snug as a bug in a rug while she’s shivering in two layers of clothing and a sheet. And she’s feeling particularly malicious this evening.
Rogue carefully leans over and pulls a pair of leather gloves out of the drawer and puts them on the side table, then sets about gingerly poking at Remy’s blanket-wrapped body for the edge of the quilt. He shifts in his sleep as she untucks it from underneath his side, but he’s passed out cold and now there’s just enough room for her to weasel her hand into his blanket burrito. Rogue smiles, and leans back on her heels to pull the leather gloves on over the silk ones she always wears to bed.
The second Rogue’s cool fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, the rest of her arms safely covered by the silk opera gloves, Remy’s skin erupts in goosebumps. She trails her hands up his chest, his heat seeping through the two layers covering her palms as the cold of her gloves ekes its way under his skin. He fidgets more and more with each stroke, and by the time her freezing leather hands make it to his cheeks he’s wide awake.
“Yer a thief.”
“Tell dis one somethin’ he doesn’t know,” Remy croaks. “What d’you want?”
“Snuggles and pets,” Rogue demands, sitting back on her haunches and folding her arms. “And some o’ that blanket. Ah’m cold.”
“Fine, den. C’mere, you jerk.”
Remy pulls her into his arms and she can feel the heat radiating from his chest before she’s even near enough to touch him. She nuzzles her face into his turtleneck and purrs, warming her nose and letting him do the work to get them both covered by the quilt. Just as she’s about to close her eyes, he pokes her in the side.
“Whaaaat?”
“Lose de leather gloves, chere.”
“Fine.” She grouses and lets him go long enough to pull them off with her teeth, then buries her hands back into the blanket. “But yer gettin’ up to put ‘em back on the table.”
015. Distance
She’s wedged as small as possible into the corner of the couch, with Remy opposite her far enough away to feel safe. Ever since she’d absorbed him in her sleep, it’s been weeks since she could bring herself close enough to touch him like she used to.
He’s heart-breakingly patient with her, and Rogue can’t remember a time when she’d loved anything as much as she does him in this moment…but it wears on him. He won’t let on, but she can see it every time she flinches when he moves to touch her, every time he catches himself reaching for her like he used to. She wants to wrap herself up in his body and breathe him in, hold herself flush against his chest and beg him to forget everything since she’d been too afraid to hold his hand the day he woke.
But she can’t. And it kills her.
“Ah love you,” Rogue murmurs, and hopes it might close the distance between them a little more than she can bring her body to.
He nudges her foot with his toe, and offers a smile that’s warmer than she deserves. “Dis one knows, chere. It’s okay.”
011. Hesitant
Her fingertips hover, trembling, just inches from his face.
“Y’ can touch me, love. It won’ hurt. Promise,” Remy murmurs. His breath is warm against her palm.
Depowered. She’s begged for this for so much of her life. He trusts her. There’s nothing left between them but skin. No more, no less than anyone else’s. But over a decade of living in constant fear isn’t so easily forgotten, and her bare hand falls to clench the fabric over his shoulder.
“It’s alright if you’ afraid, Rogue. I won’ make you do dis if y’ don’ want to.” He’ll wait until she’s comfortable enough with touching him before he’ll try to lay a hand on her, and it’s more comforting than she cares to admit.
(But he wants this just as bad as she does. Shouldn’t that be enough for her to close the distance?)
“Ah’m not afraid,” she lies, and slides her hand the rest of the way down his arm; she doesn’t trust her fingers not to shake, and doesn’t trust herself not to bolt if she breaks contact with his body. “Ah jus’ don’t know how long it’ll last, an’ if anythin’ happens to you-”
“Dis one wants, more’n anything, t’ be able t’ give you something you haven’ had in too long. I want t’ be dat for y’.” His jewel-dark eyes are soft and hopeful, pleading as they catch hers. “An if dat’s not t’ be, chere, den at least we can say we tried. Dat’s all dis one can ask for.”
She nods once to hide the effort it takes to swallow down her fear, and the pads of her fingers just brush the bare back of his hand. For the first time in years, she feels no pull.
012. Ringtones
“Jubilation Lee, you give me back mah phone, or Ah swear to God, Ah will kick your sorry behind from here t' Nova Scotia!”
“I knew it!” Jubilee shouts, eyes bright with triumph behind rose-colored glasses, the hem of her coat fluttering just inches out of Rogue’s reach as she sprints up the stairs. “I knew you had more than just a thing for him!” She gleefully starts punching buttons on the keypad.
“If you toss it back t’ me now, Ah’ll only kick you to Niagara Falls,” Rogue grits through clenched teeth, advancing up the stairs (she hopes) slowly enough to be threatening. “But so help me, if you go through mah inbox y’all won’t live to see dinner, let alone Canada!”
“It was only a matter of ti-i-ime, Rogue,” she sing-songs, skipping down the hall and searching furiously for the text message inbox. “Shoulda fessed up while you had the chance, seriously. Oh my God, you even set his ringtone to ‘Born on the Bayou’? Christ, Rogue you are a piece of work-”
The gleeful grin wipes clean off Jubilee’s face when a gloved thumb and olive-skinned forefinger pluck the stolen phone clean out of her hands. Remy tosses it back to Rogue right over the shorter girl’s head.
“Dose texts are private property, petite, an’ dis one would rather keep ‘em dat way,” he says, biting back laughter as Jubilee scowls like a wet cat and Rogue blushes furiously and tucks her cell back into her pocket. “An’ fo’ you’ information, dis one set his girl’s ringtone to ‘Toxic'.”
013. Zombie Hunters
He follows the agonizing sounds of death gurgles coming from the living room until he finds his girlfriend parked on the floor in front of the Xbox. “Girl, what’ve you been doin’ fo’ de past three hours-?”
“Shaddup, Rem!” Rogue mashes the buttons on the controller, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, focused on the television like her life depends on it. “Ah’m fendin’ off the zombie apocalypse! Grab the other controller!”
Remy plops onto the couch behind her and starts hitting buttons at random. “Why you’ playin’ two-player by you’self?”
“Cause Rahne got tired and left me to fend off the hordes all by mah lonesome! Yer character's got a shotgun an’ the A button shoots.”
“Why you playin’ dis game wit’ an eight-year-old? Dat shit is violent!”
“She was the one who brought the stupid thing t’ me an’ begged to play!”
“What de hell are de controls on dis thing?! Dis one doesn’ know what he’s doin!”
“Ah jus’ told you the A button’s the trigger, idjit! So help me, Rem, Ah will NOT die now Ah’ve only got three levels left!”
“Christe!” Remy furiously pounds the buttons on the controller trying to take down a mob of zombies that’ve spontaneously learned how to spit acid. “Takin’ on twenty Sentinels an’ Wolverine in the friggin’ Danger Room is easier than dis game!”
“Maybe,” Rogue laughs, piloting her zombie hunter into the fray, “but Ah’ve always thought it kinda sexy when a man knows how t’ use a big ol' gun.”
“If dis one’d known dat was all it took t’ get t’ you’ heart, he’d’ have tried his hand at killin’ zombies a long time ago.”
“Good thing ya didn’t!” Rogue takes out the last of the pixelated corpses harassing Remy’s character and grins, tossing her hair out of her face during the cut scene at the end of the level. “Y’ cain’t even figure out where the A button is!”
014. Got the Chills
Remy LeBeau is a blanket hog of the first degree.
It’s freezing in Rogue’s room, especially when her furnace of a significant other is cocooned in her quilt all snug as a bug in a rug while she’s shivering in two layers of clothing and a sheet. And she’s feeling particularly malicious this evening.
Rogue carefully leans over and pulls a pair of leather gloves out of the drawer and puts them on the side table, then sets about gingerly poking at Remy’s blanket-wrapped body for the edge of the quilt. He shifts in his sleep as she untucks it from underneath his side, but he’s passed out cold and now there’s just enough room for her to weasel her hand into his blanket burrito. Rogue smiles, and leans back on her heels to pull the leather gloves on over the silk ones she always wears to bed.
The second Rogue’s cool fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, the rest of her arms safely covered by the silk opera gloves, Remy’s skin erupts in goosebumps. She trails her hands up his chest, his heat seeping through the two layers covering her palms as the cold of her gloves ekes its way under his skin. He fidgets more and more with each stroke, and by the time her freezing leather hands make it to his cheeks he’s wide awake.
“Yer a thief.”
“Tell dis one somethin’ he doesn’t know,” Remy croaks. “What d’you want?”
“Snuggles and pets,” Rogue demands, sitting back on her haunches and folding her arms. “And some o’ that blanket. Ah’m cold.”
“Fine, den. C’mere, you jerk.”
Remy pulls her into his arms and she can feel the heat radiating from his chest before she’s even near enough to touch him. She nuzzles her face into his turtleneck and purrs, warming her nose and letting him do the work to get them both covered by the quilt. Just as she’s about to close her eyes, he pokes her in the side.
“Whaaaat?”
“Lose de leather gloves, chere.”
“Fine.” She grouses and lets him go long enough to pull them off with her teeth, then buries her hands back into the blanket. “But yer gettin’ up to put ‘em back on the table.”
015. Distance
She’s wedged as small as possible into the corner of the couch, with Remy opposite her far enough away to feel safe. Ever since she’d absorbed him in her sleep, it’s been weeks since she could bring herself close enough to touch him like she used to.
He’s heart-breakingly patient with her, and Rogue can’t remember a time when she’d loved anything as much as she does him in this moment…but it wears on him. He won’t let on, but she can see it every time she flinches when he moves to touch her, every time he catches himself reaching for her like he used to. She wants to wrap herself up in his body and breathe him in, hold herself flush against his chest and beg him to forget everything since she’d been too afraid to hold his hand the day he woke.
But she can’t. And it kills her.
“Ah love you,” Rogue murmurs, and hopes it might close the distance between them a little more than she can bring her body to.
He nudges her foot with his toe, and offers a smile that’s warmer than she deserves. “Dis one knows, chere. It’s okay.”