Disclaimer: I own neither Remy nor Rogue, or any of the X-men for that matter...

Title: Touch

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Rogue/Remy

Setting: Post- "Ascension"

Summary: When Rogue starts having sensual dreams about a certain Cajun X-man, she confronts both her greatest desire and her worst fear: touch. After embarrassing Kitty, Rogue's roommate takes revenge, and Rogue ends up locked in a walk-in freezer with the man of her dreams. Rogue finds out that the one she can't stand the most may just be the one who she can't stand to be without...

A/N: Well, here it is, my first oneshot. This just came to me the other morning and I started writing it. It really was a blast and I enjoyed how it turned out. I hope I captured the essence of at least one form of the ever-popular 'Romy', set after the end of Evo where Gambit has joined the X-men and practically throws himself at Rogue, who's having none of it. Though she may play hard to get, we all know Rogue struggles when trying to resist the Ragin' Cajun. This turned out very much to my liking, and I'm really excited about it. Please, please let me know what you think and review. I'd like to know if I captured the relationship aspects between the two Southerners. Feel free to send your insight my way. This is also my attempt at humorous banter, so comment on that, too, if you'd like. Read on for more Romy-ness and let me know how it turns out for you.

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'Touch'

His touch is like silk, fingers tracing down the curve of her shoulder and her snow white flesh. The room is dark; all she can see are his eyes, pools of deep scarlet, like twin blood-red moons reflected in the darkest of surfaces. He whispers something in her ear, the words causing the tiny hairs on the cusp of her eardrum to bristle. The words mean nothing but his breath means everything.

She feels safe, secure, and never wants to leave. Thoughts of isolation and coldness are lost to the tides of the past. He is her present, hopefully her future and beyond. Forever she wants to be embraced, to be loved, to be touched. No one touches like him and they never will. So gentle yet so confident; he knows she will not turn away from him.

Like two faeries in the shadows they dance, the darkness like a silk blanket wrapped around her, comforting. She needs not see his hands working her skin, her tense muscles; she knows he is there with her. Touch is everything to her.

"Cherie."

His voice is almost as enchanting as his touch, almost as melting as his embrace. The French word falls off his tongue with such lithe-like prose, his voice husky and hot against her ear. Despite the warmth surrounding her, she still has gooseflesh rippling over her porcelain skin.

"Ensemble pour toujours." (Together forever.)

Only the succulent voice of a Cajun could handle such romantic words, his accent plunging the sounds straight past her ears and into her heart. His voice is like a waterfall on a smoldering summer day: refreshing, revitalizing, exotic.

"Je ne vous laiserrai jamais." (I'll never leave you.)

She reaches out, wanting to touch him and return some of the sensations that he is giving her. Groping only darkness, her heart hammers and blood rushes to her head. The darkness feels empty now, unwelcoming and unforgiving. Her shell of warmth is broken, replaced by a carcass of ice. She calls his name continuously, each plea sounding more fraught than the last, until someone finally responds…

"You're moaning again, Rogue."

Her fading sanctum is shattered by the slightly irate voice. Her eyes open to a high ceiling and shafts of sunlight pouring over her.

Her heart aches.

"I thought you, like, said they were only nightmares," Kitty said, positioned on her neatly made bed, one slender leg dangling over the side. She was brushing her hair and picking through the locks. "Those moans sounded more like pleasure than fear, if you ask me."

As her roommate continued plucking unseen articles from her chestnut tresses, Rogue reacquainted herself and quickly shifted into defense-mode.

"Ya certainly know the difference between the two, don't cha, Kit? Ah saw you an' Lance sneakin' in here last night."

The phasing mutant's mouth dropped open and she threw her hair back over her shoulder. "We were reading, Rogue!"

"Where're the books?" she challenged, scanning the room and grinning smugly at her closest friend.

Kitty's head dropped and she started pulling at her hair again. "With Lance."

"What was that? Ah couldn't hear ya?"

"I said they're with Lance!" Kitty belted, throwing her brush at Rogue's head. The older girl dropped flat onto her bed and dodged the projectile. It clattered against the wall and Rogue chuckled.

"That boy would never set foot in ah library and ya know it!"

With a sniff and an upturn of her chin, the mutant known as Shadowcat closed her eyes and refused to comment.

"So what's wrong with your hair?" Rogue asked, sliding out from under her bed sheets and touching her bare feet to the carpeted floor.

"Ugh, gag me! I accidentally put on Kurt's shower cap when Lance called my cell. I had to dash out of the shower and answer it. I've still got blue fur stuck in my hair."

"Does that boy call ya every wakin' minute of his life?"

"Well…the Professor did tell me to cut down on my minutes or I'd have lunch-making detail for a week."

Terror seized Rogue's face as her stomach cringed. "Ah swear, Kit, if you don't stop talkin' on that phone---"

"Oh relax, Rogue. I was just kidding. He just told me that covering my cell plan was becoming quite a burden, and that I should learn how to write letters to Lance. How old fashion!"

A mega sigh of relief escaped through Rogue's lips, and her roommate fumed. "Some people appreciate my cooking, you know!"

"Yea, the garbage disposal maybe," Rogue muttered, receiving a whack from Kitty's pillow. Coughing up feathers, Rogue returned to their earlier conversation point. "How did ya know it was Kurt's cap?"

"Well, it had his blue fur, you know. I mean, who else sheds like he does? And who would wear something so flowery and over-sized?"

A half-stifled giggled escaped Rogue, sounding like a repressed burp.

"What?"

Enjoying the horror she was about to wreck on Kitty's ultra-sanitary attitude, she deadpanned, "How fast did ya jump out of that shower, Kit? Ah mean, did ya really look at what you were grabbin'?"

"Why?" Kitty trailed off, narrowing her eyes at Rogue and leaning towards the other girl, her attention caught by the sudden sparkle in her roommate's emerald eyes.

"Kurt doesn't wear shower caps, Kit. He does like to hang up his bathing suit on the shower rack though."

Kitty's face became increasingly elongated, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. If she had the mutant power to detach body parts, her jaw would be hitting the floor right now.

A bloodcurdling scream assaulted the morning peace in the dormitory wing of the mansion. Every sleeping mutant awoke and every ear was clasped by a hand to block the awful shrieking.

Rogue took a few minutes to reach the bathroom because she was doubling over with laughing fits, about to spill her guts and then some. Her stomach ached but she could care less.

"False alarm," she spouted between laughs, as Scott, Jean, and a few other mutants had rushed into the halls.

They all watched Kitty drowning herself in the sink with steaming hot water and a bar of soap clenched in her fist, screeching something about pubic fur…

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Once the morning breakfast crowd had cleared the kitchen, Rogue strolled onto the smeared tiles and crunched varied bits of cereal beneath her feet. She debated whether or not to head into the walk-in freezer at the other end of the room, juxtaposed to the pantry. Precautions had forced her to wear long sleeved pajamas despite the onset of summer in Bayville. As refreshing as the icy air would feel, she regarded the strange contraption with suspicions, wondering why their kitchen ever needed a walk-in freezer.

"Someone could get trapped in one of those," she muttered, and then glanced around the empty kitchen before peeling off the upper half of her nightwear. She wore a sports bra underneath, having neglected to change into something more suitable after the previous night's danger room session. She had all but collapsed into her bed, reeking, stinking sweat and all.

After dropping the shirt onto a cluttered tabletop, Rogue opted for the smaller, more economical-sized fridge, and grabbed a couple of ice cubes from the tray. The frozen chunks of water felt cool in her bare hands; she had forgotten to put on her gloves even though for years it had been a morning routine just like brushing her teeth or getting dressed.

The cubes were already melting, and the icy moisture soaked into her usually concealed skin. Rogue worried that the Professor might come by and see her in current half-nakedness, and more importantly, gloveless. While there were no particular dress code rules at the mansion, the Professor took it upon himself to speak his piece to some of the girls, commenting that the more they wore, the more beautiful they were. Somehow, Rogue still managed to find a little style and comfort despite being covered head to toe. She had once returned a tube top Jean had purchased for her because it revealed too much, in the most deadly sense for anyone she brushed past in the halls. Plus, it had been a little too tight for Rogue, especially with all the horndogs slinking around the mansion…Bobby, Roberto, Ray; the list went on, and she had no reason to provide them a free show.

"Oh, da weatherman mus' be right t'day. It be gettin' hot in 'ere."

Rogue gasped and spun around, snapped out of her reverie and prone to covering herself in the best way she could. Sadly, her night shirt was far out of reach.

"It mus' be Remy's birthday!"

Her breath caught inside her. Suddenly, she was breathing heavily, as if the humid air outside had transported itself into the kitchen. Sweat cascaded down her waxy, exposed flesh.

Hands covering her bosom, Rogue some how managed a "Get outta here, Swamp Rat!"

Her stomach twisted in butterfly knots.

"But cherie, Remy's eyes are stuck! They ain't movin' at all. S'pose they seen somethin' they like."

"Ah bet they won't like mah fist if ya don' get outta here!" The threat fell short, lacking Rogue's usual venom and sass. Remy noted her loss of spunk, and it fueled his flirt-o-meter up one level.

He took a step closer, standing directly between Rogue and her precious shirt lying on the table. "Remy been t'inkin' 'bout takin' his clothes off, too. Wasn't sure if it was allowed in a place like dis."

"Don' ya dare---"

His touch is like silk…

"…start strippin' in front of me, Cajun!" Rogue stammered, hoping her menacing glare made up for her faulting tone. Neither seemed to subdue Remy LeBeau, as he continued stepping towards her. "Ah'm warnin' ya!"

"Come on, Rogue. Remy wants ta play dis game, too!"

As he started to pull of his T-shirt, Rogue intercepted him, knocking him over and avoiding the growing amount of his exposed tan flesh. She almost slipped on some spilt milk but caught herself on the table and avoiding a rather embarrassing tumble.

Cereal boxes, discarded bowls and spoons, and a couple of napkins had taken residence upon the table. Rogue's shirt was not amidst the breakfast hodgepodge.

"Lookin' for dis?"

Rogue's mostly-bare back stiffened, and her head craned around to see her orange and green shirt dangling from Remy's outstretched hand. "Does Remy win a prize?"

"Give that back!" Rogue lunged at him, beyond caring if a spot of her skin made contact with the crazy Cajun's. Being an expert thief and skilled acrobatic, Remy easily evaded her grasp, practically danced around her with the shirt hanging just out of her reach, taunting her. "Ah'm gonna strangle ya if Ah don' get mah shirt back right now!"

"But dis is so much fun, cherie! Remy never have dis much 'citement in da mornin'. 'Cept back when he was wit' ol' Belladonna."

The name sounded familiar but meant nothing to Rogue. It sounded like something you'd name a flower. A poisonous flower, Rogue decide, unsure why the thought entered her mind.

Remy lured her across the kitchen, waving her shirt in a way akin to a matador provoking an angry bull. She was the bull, and she was furious.

With agility to match that of the one taunting her, Rogue leapt into the air and sailed at Remy, anticipating the sudden shock that would come with contacting her own skin with his.

It never came.

Rogue braced against the tile floor, hard, and she slid into the walk-in freezer door. The momentum and force she wielded jarred it open.

"Closer, hon. Y' almost caught me."

The ache in her shoulder managed to squash the butterfly feeling still lying hidden in her stomach, and she screamed, "Ah'm gonna kill you, Gumbo!"

Her sudden outburst surprised him, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he couldn't move. Rogue was in his face, thankful he'd left his shirt on so she could snatch fistfuls of it and swing him around, grunting as she spun him towards the open freezer. The Cajun stepped on a dropped spoon and toppled, crashing onto his back inside the walk-in freezer, defeated.

"Ha, Ah win! No more games, Caju---!"

Hands shot into her back, lifting her off the floor and shoving her into the freezer. Remy scampered out of the way as she hit the floor where he'd been lying.

"How's that for revenge, Rogue!" Kitty squealed, wearing plastic gloves used for handling food. A towel was wrapped around her soaking mane. "Now you can tell Remy how you've been dreaming about him for the whole week! That's right, I read your diary, missy!"

With that said, the maniacal roommate shut the freezer on both a stymied Rogue and an intrigued Remy before either of them could utter a single protest. The clank of the lock engaging resounded in Rogue's head, as her morning had just gone from bad to awful…

"So, y' been havin' dreams 'bout da Cajun, eh? Remy knew it was only a matter o' time."

…and now awful to worse.

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After two silence-filled minutes, Rogue was about to lose it.

Remy, on the other hand, seemed to accept that waiting contently would eventually win him a response to his earlier rhetorical statement. He sat on the floor, blind to all of Rogue's malicious glares. Whenever she glowered at him, he simply smiled back.

"Enough! Ah can't take it anymore! Kitty, open this door right now or Ah'll---"

"What'll y' do?" Remy interrupted, amused by her antics. "Relax, Rogue. Dis be much better den bein' out in the heat."

"Jus' stay away from me!"

"Uh, Rogue? If y' didn' notice, let me be the first t' say dat we're in a freezer. Ain't much room fo' the both o' us as it is."

She returned his statement of the obvious with a death stare. Unfazed, Remy still tried to get closer. "Ya deaf or somethin', Remy? Ah told ya ta get away from me!"

Despite the uselessness of it, Rogue banged on the doors and screamed Kitty's name. She felt Remy's eyes on her exposed back, tracing the curvature of her spine in his line of sight.

Rogue turned and leaned against the inside of the freezer door, the soles of her feet sliding out from under her as she plopped onto the floor.

And so commenced another round of the silent game, until, "Stop starin' at me, Remy."

Rogue wrapped her slender arms around her torso to conceal her sports bra, as Remy showed no signs shame and kept peering at her chest intently. "If ya don' stop Ah'm gonna pluck them freaky eyes of yours right outta their sockets."

"But Remy likes his eyes! Uses 'em for a lotta t'ings." The Cajun mutant pleaded.

"Yea, Ah'm sure," Rogue muttered, blowing a strand of stark white hair out of her face. Exhaling, icy tendrils retreated from her parted lips.

"Y' know, cherie, if we conserve our warmth, den we have a less chance o' freezin' t' death."

"Ah'd rather not test that theory, if ya don' mind." Rogue spat, knocking her head against the door and releasing an irritable groan. Regrettably, she shivered, and then pretended that she was withering because of vexation.

Remy caught on fast. "Well, if dat don' work, den Remy gonna offer y' all his warmth," he said, and yanked off his T-shirt.

"Will ya quit with the male model act please?" Rogue cried out, averting her eyes. There was no way she was going to let Remy see that she was interested in him. That was the last thing she was going to concede to: that she found him slightly attractive.

"Somethin' the matter?" He asked, curious.

She would never balloon his ego like that. "Ah'm repulsed."

"What? Y' don' like what y' see?" Remy asked, feigning hurt. "Most femmes (women) be all over Remy by now. They can' keep 'eir hands o' me!"

He tossed the shirt to Rogue, who threw it back at him. "Ah don' want yer stinkin' shirt! Put it back on!"

"Not 'til Rogue admits dat she likes what she sees," Remy said. "Look at me, cherie."

"Forget it, Cajun. Ah ain't lookin' at ya!"

…almost as melting as his embrace.

Horrified, Rogue smacked her head and forced the fragmented images of her dream away. Her mind's eye didn't listen, instead supplying her with more moments of Remy's embrace, his tanned skin rubbing against her pale skin.

Why are dreams always so impossible, Rogue mused, dropping her head into her hands and bringing up her knees in case Remy resumed his peeping tom business. It's not like Ah even like the guy. He's too arrogant, so self-centered and womanizing, an' he has the craziest…

Eyes, she meant to say eyes. But Rogue's thoughts became fettered, and she realized how captivating something so creepy could be.

…like twin blood-red moons reflected in the darkest of surfaces.

Those eyes…

"Yoo-hoo! Rogue, y' lookin' kinda strange," Remy observed, his darkly lit eyes peering into her soul.

Get over yerself.

The cold air had to be getting to her head. "Look who's talkin', bub."

Rogue glanced up at him when she spoke, and suddenly her eyes were the ones that didn't want to move because they liked what they saw.

Tanned skin stretched taut over the lean and sinewy muscles of Remy's torso. His stomach was flat and well-toned. She imagined his broad chest being firm to her touch, and warm, too.

While Rogue was lost in his contours and muscularity, Remy smirked and said nothing, as he savored the taste of victory. He had been right, after all, and he'd broken her resistance. She hadn't admitted anything, but her prolonged gaze confirmed his suspicions and diminished any doubts.

Finally, when it seemed like the cold air would freeze their lungs before either one of them spoke, Remy offered, "I know what it's like."

"Ya don' know nothin'!"

"Mal. (Wrong.) Remy knows more 'an y' t'ink. Knows what it's like t' feel alone even when y' be surrounded by all kinds o' people."

"Spare me the psychoanalysis, doc," Rogue whispered.

"Remy no shrink, but he do know ah lonely heart when he sees one."

When did he become the sappy type?

He's just a charmer, that's all. A deceiver with good looks.

More than good looks, Rogue thought, and then wanted to mentally kick herself. If she was speaking these crazy ideas, she could put her foot in her mouth. But when her mind, her heart, spoke these words, resistance was futile…

"Y' forgettin', cherie, dat Remy done grow up on da streets 'fore Jean-Luc found me. Those be the loneliest places, where da other people jus' look at y' like ah scoundrel no matter what's on the inside."

Quit with the dramatics, ya ain't gettin' mah sympathy, Rogue wanted to say. Those words failed to escape her lips because her heart beat otherwise. Uncharacteristically of her, she allowed the heart to rule the tongue. Remy's confession could be the ploy of all ploys, but she was hook, line, and sinker to his voice.

His voice is almost as enchanting as his touch…

"He's never gonna touch me," Rogue muttered under her breath, soft enough so that the other freezer occupant could not discern her words.

"Let Remy in, hon, 'fore it's too late."

"We ain't gonna die in here, Gumbo," Rogue stated matter-of-fact.

"Dat not be what Remy meant…'fore it's too late. 'Fore y' close that door ta y' heart forever, Rogue. Remy don' wanna see dat happen. Even untouchable girls deserve ta be happy." In a lower voice, "An' loved."

The silence that followed held no tension, no awkwardness or bitterness. Rogue was completely at loss for words; her throat had gone dry and butterflies had returned to the pit of her stomach. The tingling in her fingertips did not go unnoticed. What exactly did the Cajun mean…how could two people love each other if they can never touch?

"One kiss s'all Remy be askin'. Jus' one and den he blows dis freezer open an' leaves Rogue alone. All I ask is dat y' be honest, Rogue, 'bout y' feelin's."

Her voice cracked in the icy void currently encasing them. "Yer crazy, Remy."

"Love does dat ta people, non?"

An ache…no, a yearning, arose inside Rogue and danced through her insides until she thought she was going to explode with all the unresolved feelings screaming inside her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she hastily brushed them away. If he saw her crying…

"Ah don' wanna kill ya, Remy."

"Y' won't, cherie. Maybe jus' knock me unconscious, but it be worth it. Remy give anything fo' jus' one."

"Ah said Ah don' wanna hurt you!" Rogue cried out, thrashing as a strangeness inside her disarmed any insecurities and doubts. The only thing holding her back was the thing she wanted the most. Touch.

"Remy promise never ta tell 'nother soul. Y' can even escape wit' my powers an' lock me back in 'ere. Say the word, Rogue. Tell me y' rules an' I will do m' best ta abide."

They were inches apart now. In all her turmoil, Rogue had not registered his movement. Her jade eyes locked with his scarlet eternity, so close and so far away. She saw truth in his soul and it pained her. She could hold nothing against him now, could not hide behind fears of betrayal. It was Rogue's time to either accept or deny her simplest, strongest desire. The choice was hers, the ramifications known but the potential limitless.

"Remy ain't gonna force m'self on y'. Dis is all y' decision, Rogue. All or nothing. Take a risk or continue ta seclude y'self . Don' leave me hangin' forever."

She didn't leave him hanging.

Rogue took a risk.

With surprising fluidity, the freezer faded away, replaced only by the silkiest shadows, Rogue on top of Remy, their lips pressed together and sealed by bliss, two unfulfilled, broken hearts united for only a moment to form a whole. The icy carcass enveloping Rogue was banished by the shell of warmth Remy enthralled her with. Enraptured, all the memories, all the absorbed psyches, all the ghost personalities dissipated like dust in the wind. Liberation coursed through Rogue's veins and surged through her bones, making her feel so alive, ecstatic and electrified. Passion churched in the depths of her being, stirred by so many sensations that she felt like an emotional mush pot overflowing.

He was hers and she was his, no matter what any of the others said, no matter how many times they ticked one another off. The foundations of their relationship were solidified, and in the whirlpool of their connection, the tides changed…

…And Remy LeBeau's body sagged. His breath became shallow and his lips parted from Rogue's. His head tilted back and rested on the floor, and they were in the freezer once more.

What had happened between them could not be forgotten, and as Rogue was overwhelmed by all of Remy's absorbed feelings, their love and compassion for one another were the truest things she knew. A truth that felt so invigorating when thrown against all the lies and deceits that painted a portrait of her past.

With a swelling heart, a spinning head, and a warmth that no disappointment could ever steal, Rogue pushed up onto her feet and touched her bare fingertip to the spot behind the locking mechanism.

As kinetic energy sparked and combusted to disarm the lock, Rogue realized something even as she stepped out of the freezer like stepping out of a dream.

The quickest of pleasures can turn out to be the greatest of all.

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A/N: So, how'd ya like it? Click that review button and let me know! Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

-fathoms-