Three Card Draw
A/N: ROMY, of course. Rating because … well, Remy's involved, therefore sexual innuendoes abound!
Summary: Those extra danger-room sessions are taking their toll on Rogue and Remy steps in too relieve some of the pain.
Disclaimer: I don't own the X Men, and chances are, you don't own them either. Let's be friends.
Ow.
Rogue took another step down the corridor towards her bedroom and grimaced.
Ow.
She took another step. This was getting old. Why did the bedrooms have to be so far from the danger room?
Ow.
Okay, maybe not the best question. The real issue was why did she put herself through all these extra danger room sessions? The early morning ones with the rest of the group were sufficient enough and as Logan had commented a few hours ago when he'd seen her arrive for yet another session, she didn't need it. She was at the top of her game.
Ow.
One of the possible answers to why was because that she enjoyed it. And not in the masochistic sense. Rogue somehow got joy out of pushing her body to the very limits and then some more, seeing exactly what she was capable of. And what she wasn't. It was a two-way street. After weeks of god-knows how many training sessions, Rogue was more in tune with her body than ever before. She knew her strengths, her weaknesses, and in the long run, despite the way her body protested throughout the exercises and the deep, bone-deep ache that hung around days after, it was beneficial. Nobody could say Rogue wouldn't be prepared if she got jumped by those anti-mutant thugs that roamed the streets. Or if another megalomaniac mutant decided that, hell, nothing beat a good apocalypse.
Ow ow ow.
Stairs. They were always the worst bit.
Taking a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, Rogue was glad that nobody was around to witness how weak she got after training. She was never one for showing weakness. Okay, it was natural to feel shattered after the Danger-room but she didn't feel like telling the whole mansion. That was what Kurt and the newbie mutants were for.
Ow.
She was almost there, only a matter of metres, really, until she could push open that door and collapse on her bed and maybe, if she was lucky, remain unconscious for the rest of the day. Or at least until the rest of the menagerie that made up Xavier's Institute for the gifted returned from wherever the hell they were. Probably the mall.
Ow.
It wasn't that she didn't think her housemates had anything better to do; it was just it was … well … Bayville. The list of activities was pretty meagre. Well, the list of legal activities, that was.
Ow ow ow ow … ahhh …
She'd made it. The cool, soft, familiar feel of the burgundy comforter beneath her tender body instantly made up for the past two hours she'd just spent basically beating her body senseless. It was heaven, pure and simple. All she needed now was a certain scarlet-eyed Cajun to come and – no.
God no.
No way.
Where the hell had that thought come from? Rogue groaned from the depths of her comforter. Even when he wasn't around he was making her want him. No, that wasn't right either. She didn't want him; no matter how many times he suggested it through his innuendo and supposed charm, and no matter how many times Kitty blatantly declared it when they were getting ready for bed.
She didn't want him.
Ow.
Shifting herself around on the bed triggered her body to start protesting in the worse way. She'd have thought she'd be used to it by now.
Okay, maybe she liked him a little bit. Un petit peu as he would say, in that debonair French accent he'd perfected to a tee, causing every woman in his way to positively swoon at the first syllable. Rogue had a feeling that that Swamp Rat could tell a woman she had an uncanny resemblance to a horse and they'd still fall at his feet, just so long as he said it in the 'language of the love'.
In his defence, something Rogue had never thought she'd say, Remy had been pretty nice since he'd joined the mansion. He didn't come home drunk as much as Piotr and John had said he did when they resided in Magneto's base. He didn't smoke within the school grounds as much as he used to when he'd first arrived. He kept the sexual innuendoes to a minimum around the younger students. Hell, he'd even attempted to teach Kitty to cook.
The strangest thing about Remy's habits, to Rogue, anyway, was that he didn't bring random women he'd met in clubs and bars home with him. Considering the amount of time he spent pursuing Rogue, she'd thought that he'd at least be trying to get some somewhere else, too. But then again, just because he didn't bring them home didn't mean … urgghh … Rogue groaned again, doing some more deep breathing exercises. She was meant to be relaxing, not thinking about the resident Casanova's sex life.
It wasn't doing her any good to think about him in any way other that plutonic sense. He didn't want her, not really. If he did want her he'd already have made his move.
Because he knew.
Rogue knew he knew, too. She'd felt his eyes on her at that club, only two weeks ago, when she'd been taking advantage of her new …discovery. She hadn't done anything rash or anything she wasn't ready for, hell, she hadn't even kissed any of the guys she'd been dancing with, but … to be able to touch, something she'd wanted for so long … it wasn't something she was going to waste.
Rogue remembered back to that day she found out that her skin was no longer poison to everyone she came into contact with. It was at school, she'd been in French, it was the end of the lesson, and she hadn't done her homework. Rogue was hoping to slip out of class without getting noticed, knowing the repercussions for not doing homework in Madame Williamson's classes were brutal. Well, it was only detention, but Madame Williamson's classroom always smelt of wet dog mixed with BO, so spending an extra hour in there was pure torture on the senses.
It had turned out that luck wasn't on her side that day, because her teacher spotted her at the last moment and called after her and pulled on her hand to stop her leaving the classroom. The hand that Rogue had taken her glove off of to remove an irritating piece of plastic that had somehow slipped past the skin-tight material.
"Don't touch me!" Rogue had shouted at the teacher, wishing she would just let go. Didn't she know what happened when – but of course she didn't. Nobody knew about mutants.
"I'm very sorry Ms Darkholme but you've evaded me for this certain piece of coursework for some time now. I want an explanation." Madame Williamson had replied sternly, still holding Rogue by her exposed wrist.
Rogue had had dreams about that moment for years. Not that moment exactly. She'd never fantasised that the moment she became touchable again being the moment Madame Williamson had her steel grip on her wrist, but it was better than nothing.
Rogue had hardly heard any of what her teacher had had to say to her, only nodding and promising to hand in the work the next day, without fail, before leaving quickly, knowing Scott would already have driven back to the mansion, impatient of waiting for the anti-social Goth who didn't ever say a word of the drive home expect for a half-assed 'thank-you' when they reached the destination.
Now if it had been Jean that had been kept behind (not that she would be) then Scott would've probably waited for the rest of the evening. Not that it mattered. Rogue was over that little crush.
Ow.
Rogue winced, rolling onto her back, looking at her ceiling. Nobody knew about her newfound control, not even Professor Xavier, which was surprising, since he was such an all-knowing, omnipotent mutant. He knew everything that went on in the mansion. Or at least he did. Rogue didn't know why she hadn't told anyone about her ability to touch.
If Rogue was honest with herself she did know why she hadn't told anyone. She didn't want to jinx it. She didn't even know if it applied for mutants, anyway. All the people who'd touched her, Madame Williamson, that busboy at Starbucks, those guys at the club, they'd all been human. She had their psyches in her head, joining the ever-growing party, but she was able to touch them. Rogue had no idea why, she didn't even know if it was permanent, but she could touch. That was all that mattered.
For now.
Ow ow ow.
Standing up reluctantly, Rogue reached under her pillow and retrieved her pyjamas, a pair of black boxers and a magenta crop top, pulling off her sweaty uniform. She'd had a brief shower downstairs but had decided not to risk walking through the halls clad only in a towel. Changing as quickly as her body would allow, Rogue settled herself back onto her bed, face down again, and inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of the room; even Kitty's flowery body sprays had their charm. Rogue took a deep breath and tried to detect which aromas were present in the room. It was a game she used to play when she was finding it hard to sleep, finding it soothed her mind, sometimes blocking out all the voices in her head.
The henna shampoo she'd used in the shower stood out the most, as well as the almond shower gel she'd 'borrowed' from Jean.
The smoky, pungent smell of the Moroccan musk joss sticks lingered around the room, even though Rogue hadn't lit one for a few days.
Rogue could detect the artificially sweet stench of hairspray from Kitty's side of the room, even after she'd told her time and time again to only use it in the bathroom or else she'd blow the whole mansion up one day.
A hundred other smells and scents floated around the room, filling Rogue's nostrils and adding to the uniqueness of one of the only places Rogue felt truly at home.
Vanilla.
Fresh laundry.
Furniture polish.
Strawberries.
Coffee.
New books.
Motor oil.
Freshly cut grass.
Cayenne pepper.
Spices.
Aftershave.
Leather.
Tobacco.
Rogue frowned, sniffed again, and then groaned.
"Remy could make y' moan twice as loud as that, Chère." An amused southern accent floated through the room, sending a shiver down Rogue's spine.
"What d'ya want, Cajun?" She asked, not attempting to get up from her position, the well-worn fabric beneath her muffling her voice slightly.
Remy laughed, and Rogue felt, rather than heard, him jump down from the wrought iron railing on the balcony and walked towards her, pulling out a pack of cards as he went.
Those damned cards. Rogue couldn't even play Go fish without thinking of that womanising Cajun Casanova.
"Mon dieu, not feelin' too social today, are we Roguey?" Remy enquired playfully, the telltale sound of cards being shuffled reaching Rogue's ears. She had to laugh at that comment, then winced as her ribs protested.
"An' when have you known me to be social, Swampy?"
A chuckle escaped Gamit's lips as he replied. "Remy thought you were lookin' very social at that club two weeks ago, hein?"
Rogue's eyes widened. So he had seen her. Why hadn't he said anything before now? No doubt waiting until he could use the information as blackmail or something, she thought bitterly.
When Rogue didn't reply, Remy continued casually. "You're breakin' my heart, chère. Remy hoped that he'd be the first person you'd come to when you finally got a hold of them powers o' yours. Not some inexperienced boys who wouldn't know what t' do with a beauty like you if y' came with an instructions booklet."
Was it just Rogue or did she sense some hurt in his voice?
"Firstly, ah do believe you've just compared me to a kitchen appliance, an' second, why would ah do that? So ah could join the not-so-exclusive club of Remy LeBeau's bed-buddies?"
"Y' wound me, chère. An' just when I was goin' t' do you a favour, too." Remy's voice was closer now, almost right next to her ear, but Rogue didn't dare look up, didn't dare acknowledge his presence. Didn't dare look into those beautiful red orbs, the ones he hid from the rest of the world, because she knew all the self-restraint she'd shown for the past fortnight would be gone, just like that.
"An' what would that be, Bayou breath? Need help stealin' somethin'?"
Remy laughed that infuriatingly relaxed laugh again, still shuffling his cards.
"Trust me, chère, despite how much y' know ah love yo' company, ah don't need yo' help f' stealin' somethin'. Wouldn't want t' lure an innocent fille like you into the world of thieves an' such. Besides," Rogue felt a very slight breeze by her head and then nothing again. "Remy didn't need any help t' steal this, did he?" The teasing lilt to Remy's voice was back again, making Rogue almost see that smile on his handsome face.
That smile that was so charming it should be illegal, she thought ruefully.
Raising her head slowly, Rogue decided to see what Remy had 'stolen' from her.
What she saw elicited an indigent gasp from her lips, causing Rogue to jump up from the bed and grab the black, lacy item of clothing that had been dangling casually from one of Remy's long fingers.
Remy smiled, clearly amused at Rogue reaction, and leant back against the wall nonchalantly, one foot crossed over the other.
"32C? Why d'ya hide a figure like that behind all those layers o' clothes, chère?" He asked, eyes roaming unashamedly over he body, which was showing off a considerably greater amount of skin than usually.
"Ya know why, Cajun." Rogue said, tidying her bra away in her dresser, trying not to show how stiff her body had become since she'd left the Danger Room.
"I know why you used to hide behind your clothes, ma fille. Mais maintenant, je ne sais pas. Why don't y' tell Remy, hein?"
Rogue was about to retort with a scathing comment when she suddenly realised that Remy had probably been hanging around outside even before he'd let his presence be known.
"Remy LeBeau! How long were you out there? Ah was gettin' changed!"
Instead of cowering in fright or making swift apologies like her other team mates would, Remy rewarded Rogue with the a million dollar smile that had been making so many women go weak at the knees for god knew how long.
"Remy covered his eyes when it got to the good bit, chère. He was raised a gentleman. Tante Mattie would have my hide if she knew she'd raised a peepin' Tom."
Rogue sat back down on the bed with a thud, not feeling the need to put on ladylike airs for Remy.
"Ah like the sound of her already. When do we get t' meet? Maybe we can swap tips fo' gettin' you to act like this gentleman y' claim y' are."
"Whenever y' want, mon amour. Never knew y' wanted t' meet my family so bad. Although Remy'll have t' keep you away from Lapin." He shuddered. "Ah don't want t' know what would happen if you two joined forces."
Masking a yawn with her hand, Rogue was starting to realise just how drowsy she was. Kitty and Lance had been on the phone until midnight last night and of course she had to listen to the whole conversation, climaxing in, "No, you hang up. No you. Okay, I'll hang up when you, like, do. Okay, on zero. Three, two, one. Hey, you like, didn't hang up!" so naturally Rogue hadn't managed to get as much sleep in as she'd hoped for. Between the psyches and Kitty, it was a surprise she actually got any sleep at all.
"Come on then Swamp Rat." Rogue said, fighting the urge to yawn again. "Tell me all about this 'favour' of your and then get gone. Ah need mah beauty sleep."
"Fine." Remy said, pocketing his cards and holding out his hands. "Remy figured he could help y' relieve a little bit of that tension you worked up in those workouts y' seem to love so much. Free of charge, too."
"No."
"Non?" Remy asked, clearly not expecting any answer other than 'Oh yes Remy, that would be amazing.' "But chère, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. 'Specially fo' you."
"Ah severely doubt that." Rogue replied, trying not to show how much she'd love to have Remy's hands sliding up and down her back, working out the tension that had built up – no. Not going to happen. "Ya'll be offering some poor girl on the street the exact same thing the second y' leave this place. Mark mah words."
"So little faith in me, p'tite." Remy sighed, still not moving from his spot on the wall. "If only y' knew what these hands could do …"
"Nope, sorry. Ah prefer ignorant bliss. Besides, how many times have those words passed through your lips and tricked some barfly into making you a very happy Swamp Rat? A figure to the nearest hundred will suffice, ah think."
Stepping away from the wall Remy closed the gap between them, slowly placing his hands on the bed, either side of Rogue's thighs, his face dangerously close to her's.
"I'm sure I could persuade you otherwise." Remy said softly, eyes moving all over her face, as if saving the information for later, lingering a little bit too long on her lips.
"Still not interested." Rogue replied, trying to keep her breathing normal. Why did he affect he so much?
Remy gave a wolfish grin at that comment. "Oh, but y' are, chère. You're very interested. If y' weren't you'd have kicked me out already, maybe have gotten your friend Wolvie to help y' make Cajun style shish kebab for dinner. All Remy's asking for is five minutes. After that, he'll go." Then as an afterthought. "If y' still want me to leave, that is."
Rogue sighed gently. Maybe if he weren't so close she'd be able to think of a way out of this. But he was. He was so, so close. All it would take was Rogue just reaching out her hand, only a few inches, and she'd be able to touch him, run her hand over his smooth, freshly-shaven face, through those silky auburn locks, over his tight, muscles torso. She gulped.
Yep, her self-restraint: gone. Completely. Out of the country.
"Fahne."
"Quoi?" Remy asked, red on black orbs darting up from her lips to meet her own emerald eyes, not quite believing his ears. Did she just agree?
It was the question on both as their minds as they stared into each other's eyes, neither wanting to break the connection by looking away, but neither wanting to be the one to initiate anything.
Remy, because he didn't want to scare Rogue off, not when she'd just agreed to whatever he'd proposed (Although he was having trouble remembering what his proposition entailed, precisely, especially when her lips were so tantalizingly close …)
Rogue, because, well, she didn't know, if she was honest. She didn't want to shatter the fragile status quo. Didn't want to embarrass herself. Didn't want to get her heart broken. Only a few of the reasons bouncing around her head at that moment.
A few more moments passed before a wicked, wolfish grin spread across Remy's face again as he stood up, deftly removing his trademark trench coat from his broad shoulders, folding it neatly in half and laying it over the end of Rogue's bed, eyes still never leaving hers.
"But ah'm not goin' t' enjoy it." Rogue called to Remy, determination and a hint of a challenge in her voice.
"D'accord." He said softly, eyes glinting as he leaned over Rogue to her bedside table where he picked up a small pink bottle.
Reading aloud from the label, a smirk appeared on Remy's lips whilst Rogue silently cursed Kitty for her idea of a joke. "Sugah 'n' Spice Massage Oil: Now enjoy all the fun of Mardis Gras with yo' partner – no need to even set foot outside yo' bedroom. Fit fo' human consumption. Hmm, if Remy didn't know any better, he'd say his River Rat was missin' their fun time in N'awlins. All you had t' do was say somethin', Roguey."
Rogue rolled her eyes and tried to hide the blush that was slowly rising up her neck. No need to encourage him any more, she thought.
Opening the bottle and pouring a little bit of the sticky liquid onto his open palm, Remy raised it up to his nose for a sniff. "Hmmm, needs a dash of cayenne pepper."
Rogue laughed. "Ya think everythin' needs cayenne pepper, Swamp Rat. And ya use a bit more than a dash; I can tell ya that now. It's a surprise you've still got taste buds left."
Pouring a little more of the oil onto his hands and then rubbing them together, Remy replied jovially, "You're been observin' Remy's eatin' habits? Ah always knew y' cared, Roguey."
"Don't flatter yo'self and stop callin' me Roguey, Swampy." Rogue retorted, feeling the blush rise some more.
The predatory glint returned to Remy's eyes as he leant down slowly so that his lips were centimetres away from Rogue's ear. "An' what would y' prefer Remy calls you then? Ma petite fleur? Mon couer? Mon amour? How about Mistress? I like that one. Tell Remy when you want him to stop, he's got plenty more names where they came from."
"We gonna do this or not, Cajun?" Rogue practically growled, her body humming in anticipation. Why did he always do this? He always liked to prolong the moment, liked to play with whatever had caught his eye. It was cruel and sadistic and egotistical and utterly seductive. Rogue decided just to give up and say it: The guy oozed sex. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
"Didn't know you were so eager, chère." Remy commented before settling down on the bed, resting on his knees. "Turn over."
"Excuse me?"
Remy sighed. Dieu this girl was difficult. Was she incapable of relaxing at all? No wonder she'd been drawn to Scott the boy scout and that stick he had wedged up his derrière. Remy was glad that little infatuation was over. "Turn over. Unless y' want me to try and reach your back from your front."
Rogue frowned, but complied. "Did that make sentence make sense?"
Remy shrugged, straddling Rogue's thighs, one knee leaning on either side of her. "Remy t'ink so. It just sounded funny."
Rouge smiled and hid her face in the comforter as Remy's warm, gentle hands started working up and down her back, sending shivers all over her body. Okay, she admitted silently, he was good. Suddenly, Rogue felt Remy's fingers curl around her waist and massage her abdomen for a few moments before slipping back up to her back again. A pleasant shiver ran through her body. All right, maybe he was a little bit more than good. But only a little bit.
Three fingers of each hand moved up and down Rogue's back, gently rubbing in the oil, which was quickly filling the room with exactly what it said on the label: Mardis Gras. Somehow whoever had manufactured the stuff had managed to fill that tiny little bottle with all the smells and scents that Rogue had experienced on that little 'trip' to New Orleans with Gambit. Pressing her face further into her bed, Rogue closed her eyes and tried to mask the small sighs that were threatening to escape.
Must not enjoy this, must not enjoy this
But then Remy pushed down slightly harder on her lower back hitting just the right spot, causing Rogue to arch her back and let out a small moan. She couldn't help it. She needed a new mantra. The other one was obviously not doing its job properly.
"If Remy didn't know any better, he'd say y' were enjoying this, p'tite." Remy commented from his vantage point. He was enjoying it too, no doubt about that. The soft, lily white skin of Rogue's back felt like velvet beneath his fingers as he worked into them, trying to work out all the tension that had built up over god knew how long. This girl needed pampering, Remy mused, moving his hands up to massage Rogue's shoulders, feeling the silky white bangs that had fallen down from her ponytail against his knuckles. He dug his thumbs into the muscles under her neck, rubbing them in smooth, circular motions, drawing out another moan from the girl beneath him.
Remy continued for a few more minutes silently, ordering himself not to make any jokes or comments whenever Rogue shifted beneath him or allowed herself a sigh or a moan, no matter how badly he wanted to. After a few more minutes, Rogue hadn't made a single sound and Remy half wondered if she'd gone to sleep. Bringing his hands to a stop, he leant forward carefully and checked to see if she was truly sleeping or if his magical hands had lost their magic, and she was just lying there, which was unlikely, but possible when Rogue was concerned. Stranger things had happened.
"Who said ya could stop, Swamp Rat?" A muffled southern accent danced up from the depths of the comforter, the demanding tone making his mouth smile and his eyes crinkle.
"Never let it be said that Remy LeBeau denied a lady anything."
Remy replaced his hands on Rogue's back and continued the sensual rubbing and stroking for a few more minutes, before inspiration struck. Lowering his hands to Rogue's slim waist, Remy's skilled hands started tickling her, softly at first, so she wasn't even aware what was happening, and then harder, eliciting giggles from the Mississippian, who arched her back and curled her legs underneath her in an attempt to try and pull herself away from Remy's grasp.
"Stop!" She demanded, but Rogue discovered it was hard to try and sound serious and threatening when she was giggling hysterically. And also when a mutinous part of her was actually enjoying it.
"Non." Remy replied simply, hands never ceasing, enjoying the way his Roguey was writhing and wriggling beneath him. Good thing Wolvie wasn't going to burst into the room. He'd learnt his lesson last time he'd thought that a boy was in one of the girls' rooms. Remy had never seen a man that full of testosterone blush so hard.
Somehow in the ruckus Rogue had managed to turn herself onto her back so she was now lying beneath Remy, her body pulled flush with his own. The giggling stopped almost instantly.
For what seemed like an eternity the pair stared into each other's eyes, not wanting to make the first move, just like before. Remy's eyes flickered ever so slightly down to Rogue's lips, and then back up. Rogue shifted faintly beneath, rubbing their hips together unconsciously.
And then, just like in those really 'deep', emotional romantic films that seem to come out every other week, Remy's face lowered towards Rogue's ever so slowly, as if there were a magnetic pull between them, giving her ample time to pull back and give him a slap.
But she didn't.
As Remy's lips touched her own, Rogue prepare herself for him to give her one of those rough, passionate kisses that men like him seemed to favour, the ones that gave them to illusion that they were the dominating ones and gave their victims the impression that they were having an extremely invasive and painful expreience in the dentist's chair.
But he didn't.
Oh, it was passionate all right, but at the same time soft, caring, as if he were caressing her lips with a feather, she could hardly feel him touching her.
Which he was. He was touching her. And she wasn't draining him. It was such an amazing sensation, one she hadn't felt in her whole life, even when she had her first kiss with Cody, back in Mississippi. It was … indescribable. All those romance novels Kitty forced on her were right, Rogue thought, surprised that she could still think with Remy pressed up against her. Kissing was fun.
Encouraged by this thought Rogue deepened the kiss, pushing her own lips harder against Remy's, opening her mouth ever so slightly. Remy took the silent invitation to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into Rogue's mouth, smiling against her lips as he felt her breath hitch. He gentled massaged up and down her own tongue, mimicking the motion with his hands, one hand on her left arm, one sliding up and down her waist, the one he'd had his hands all over just a few minutes ago. How things changed in such a short space of time.
Remy had been looking forward to this moment ever since he'd given that card to possibly the most infatuating mysterious mutant with the stripes in her hair all that time ago. He'd remembered being drawn to the fact that, unbelievable as it was, she hadn't fallen at his feet or shimmied up to him and whispered naughty, x-rated things in his ear. In fact she'd all but ignored his flirtatious comments and appreciative glances.
Hell, she'd been attacking him, and not in the dominatrix, whips and chains way either.
The pair of southerners continued their fervent embrace, both getting bolder and bolder every time the other person didn't pull away or make a teasing remark respectively. Rogue now had worked up the courage to run her hands over Remy's firm chest, ungloved hands edging further and further down until she reached his black tee shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and running her hands up and down the tanned muscles. Remy's mouth had now moved from Rogue's own luscious lips and was busy pressing short sweet kisses around her mouth, on her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders.
His hands were gradually moving up Rogue's back, caressing the smooth skin as he had been before, but with a different goal this time. Finally, they reached it. With one hand on the clasp of the bra, almost identical to the one he'd picked up earlier, Remy sent a questioning glance to Rogue, silently asking permission. Rogue responded by pressing her lips back on his, establishing the connection they'd momentarily lost.
Rogue's hands gradually got bored of exploring Remy's chest, instead moving south very tantalisingly slowly, teasing and stroking gently, feeling exactly what type of effect she was having on the Cajun.
Remy grinned against Rogue's lips again. Two could play at that game.
As he leisurely let his hands progress from Rogue's back to her ribs, a loud thud and the sound of excited voices floated through the open window.
"Kitty are you trying to get us all killed?"
"Like, why would I do that, 'Mara? I only wanted to kill Kurt."
"Vat did I do?"
"You totally laughed at that sweater I brought!"
"Vell it looked like road kill. Pink road kill."
As the teenagers argued outside, slamming card doors and rustling shopping bags, Rogue and Remy pulled apart reluctantly.
"You'd bettah get outa here, sugah." Rogue told Remy slightly breathlessly, her accent thicker than usual.
Remy nodded, a smile on his face. He grabbed his trench coat and planted a hard fast kiss on Rogue's swollen lips before heading to the open window.
"We'll continue this another time, chère. Mark my words." He promised, before jumping gracefully over the iron railings.
Rogue lay back on her bed, stretching her tired arms above her head, touching the headboard with the tips of her fingers.
Unable to help it, an idiotic grin split across her face and a girlish giggle escaped her lips.
She'd just made out with Remy LeBeau!
Later that evening as they were getting for bed, Kitty gave a dramatic sigh and flopped down on her bed, her head propped up with her hand.
"Okay, what gives?"
Rogue looked over, one eyebrow raised. "Excuse me?"
Kitty gave another sigh and rolled her eyes. "Why are you like, so freaking happy all of a sudden. You've been smiling like an idiot for the past twenty minutes. It's weird and unnatural and it's driving me crazy!"
Rogue raised the other eyebrow. "Ah'm sorry, am ah not allowed to be happy?"
"No!" Kitty exclaimed, eyeing the Goth with suspicion. "Because whenever you're happy it means you've done something. Something bad."
Rogue thought back to the cause of what was making her so deliriously happy. That couldn't be described as bad, could it?
"Sorry, haven't done anything." Rogue shrugged picking up her toothbrush and walking to the door. "Although ah think ah saw Kurt attemptin' to persuade John t' turn that sweater you were wearin' today into ashes."
Kitty let out a very un-Kitty-like growl and started muttering about how Kurt wouldn't know fashion if it kicked him in the tail.
"Well is it to do with the way Gambit was looking at you like you were like, lunch, all evening?" Kitty asked innocently, wanting to what had made the standoffish teen so happy.
Rogue paused. How had Kitty noticed? Rogue had thought she'd be too busy flirting with Lance to spot the flirtatious looks Remy had been shooting Rogue all through dinner. Or the coy glances Rogue was sending right back at him.
"Ah don't know what yo' talkin' about, Kitty. Besides," She lied, sending a silent apology to Remy, " Ah think he's got a new girlfriend anyway. Heard him talkin' to her on the phone earlier today."
"Seriously?" Kitty asked, amazed. But it had only been last week when he'd been asking her for tips on how to get Rogue to go out with him. Maybe his attention span was as long as Scott had warned. "And this doesn't like, bother you at all?" She asked, concerned. Kitty knew Rogue had a thing for Remy, no matter how much she denied it, and it she didn't want her friend hurt.
"Why would it bother me?" Rogue asked, feigning indifference.
Kitty shrugged, not sure how to phrase it without getting something thrown at her head. "No reason. Forget I said anything."
Rogue nodded and gave a smile. "Already done."
Just as Rogue stepped out into the war-zone that was the new mutant's playground (AKA the hallway), closing the door behind her, Kitty remembered she was going to ask Rogue what perfume she'd been using lately. The smell was hanging around the room when she got home and it was much better than the saccharine strawberry stuff Kitty had picked up at the drug store the other day. Damn impulse buying. Walking over to Rogue's dresser, Kitty read the labels on the bottles, trying to look for anything with the words 'spice' or even 'leather' on them, when she looked up and spotted three cards tucked into the frame of the mirror.
Even though the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat' was running through Kitty's head like a high-speed bullet train, she pulled the cards down and looked at them. Two of them were ordinary playing cards just like the ones Remy always had on him. One was the king of hearts, and the other was the queen. Tucked in between them was a blank piece of cream paper, the same size as the cards, with a single question mark on them.
Frowning, Kitty put the cards back down. Sometimes she just didn't get Rogue.
Remy stood on his balcony, two windows along from Rogue and Kitty's room. He'd heard their whole conversation and he reminded himself to get even with Rogue later. That girlfriend she'd lied about would mean that the teenyboppers would be pestering him for weeks to come about his supposed love interest.
Lighting a cigarette and ignoring the disapproving tut from Piotr who was reading on his bed, Remy waited five more minutes before he heard Rogue return to the room.
"Hey Rogue, what's up with those cards on your mirror?" Kitty's valley girl accent sounded clearly from the girls' room. Remy chuckled. They needed to shut their windows more; the whole grounds could probably hear their conversations.
"Huh?" was Rogue's eloquent reply.
There was silence for a moment and Remy waited with baited breath, hoping she'd get the message.
When a few more moments passed and his second cigarette was nothing more than ash, Remy sighed. Guess she didn't –
"Hey Swamp Rat!" A southern accent called from outside. Remy looked up and smiled as he saw his chère, still clad in the pyjamas from earlier, standing on her balcony, holding the cards.
"Oui, chère?" He asked casually.
Rogue paused for a moment, thinking, before calling, "You're on."
Maintenant, je ne sais pas Now, I don't know.
D'accord okay/agreed/sure thing, boss/ yes sir, right away sir (pretty much anything you want along those lines, they say it all the time in France)
For those of you who didn't get the significance of the cards, it was basically Remy asking Rogue to go out with him. Please review, I always like getting responses for my work, and have a nice day!