Chapter Text
Jean’s supposed to be the psychic one, not Cyclops.
Gambit hears the ramp clang shut behind him, but doesn’t even make it to his seat before he’s stopped. Cyclops - or Scott Summers, now that the mission has finished - stands directly in his way, staring him down. At least it seems like a stare, as much as Scott looking at anything does, with his eyes always being covered. Gambit tries to will the cat hidden in his coat to stop squirming. How’s he suspicious already? Scott looks him up and down, and Remy gulps.
“You don’t have shoelaces.” Scott announces.
What?
Remy tries his hardest to look like he knows what to do with this information. Peering past the man, he sees Jean and Logan stifling laughter. The hell is goin’ on- oh. Mon dieu. He breathes out in amused relief. Hours earlier, he’d made that stupid joke to Jubilee, and now their fearless leader had confused himself. Remy relaxes, glad the fluffy, surprisingly well-behaved secret in his trenchcoat is still hidden.
“Jus’ a silly joke, Cyclops. You know Gambit.”
One corner of Scott’s mouth ticks upwards - it’s a small smirk, but it looks like a lot on the leader’s usually stern face. He shakes his head fondly, then turns to walk to the pilot’s seat. As with all missions that end safely and successfully, the team takes a few minutes to decompress before takeoff. Then it’s seatbelts on for everyone, and the VTOL gear hums to life.
Just as Remy gets settled in his seat, the cat - now squeezing under the mutant’s arm to sit beside him - lets out a panicked meow at the plane leaving the ground. Claws sink into his thigh and he’s not sure how it hurts so much, when he’s been injured battling supervillains so many times. Three heads turn his way at the noise: Jean in the copilot chair, Logan next to him, and Jubilee in the seat ahead. Gambit shields the cat with his arm, and does a high-pitched, pathetic fake cough, hoping to trick the team into thinking that somehow, that noise came from Remy, rather than a stowaway cat. ‘Cause that would be silly, wouldn’t it?
“Gambit must’ve breathed in some dust out there,” he says casually. Nobody responds.
Then Jubilee giggles, before facing forward again. Jean studies him carefully, but Remy keeps his psychic walls up high, and refuses to let her in. After a few seconds, she returns her attention to takeoff, leaving just Logan still staring. Remy pretends not to notice, tries to feel like he isn’t in danger of being found out - if anyone should notice there’s something else on board, it should be Wolverine, with his enhanced senses.
Logan sniffs. Called it. He sniffs again. Remy discreetly runs a hand through the kitten’s fur, feeling as if time is up. Logan sniffs again, grimaces, and shakes his head like a dog trying to escape a bad smell. Oh? He watches as Logan undoes his seatbelt and moves to the empty seat in front, next to Jubilee.
“Logan,” Scott’s voice sounds out with the same disapproving tone that he always seems to say the man’s name with. “No leaving your seat until we’re at cruising height.”
His hand points up from the pilot’s chair to point at a glowing seatbelt icon, like in any commercial plane. Remy can picture the hard set to Scott’s jaw.
“You’re not sittin’ next to a walking dumpster,” Logan growls, then turns to Remy. “The hell did you do, LeBeau, go swimmin’ in trash?”
By the time the Blackbird is coasting above the clouds, Remy’s escaped the conversation, leaving Scott and Logan to bicker even after the seatbelt light has gone off. With the team all in front of him and seemingly distracted, Remy takes the opportunity to check on the cat. He lets it onto his lap, and gives it a once-over. The poor thing is still covered in concrete dust, and looks mildly annoyed at being squished under his arm for the past ten minutes. He brushes it - her, he’d concluded in his check - off, and gives her some attention.
Each time the plane jostles - infrequently, as Scott is a talented pilot - the cat pokes her claws into Remy’s lap, and makes a low hissing noise. The mutant has to shuffle in his seat to try to disguise the sound, and it only makes the little daggers dig deeper into his legs. He’d complain, but the cat is too cute, and planes aren’t everyone's thing. Lookin’ at you, Logan , he thinks, peering at the man with a white-knuckle grip on his armrest, and a face not unlike this cat’s whenever they hit turbulence.
Speaking of, this cat doesn’t have a name. Remy scratches under her chin and racks his brain. A battlefield cat, smuggled onto the jet… she’s feisty… how ‘bout…
“Spitfire!” he whispers to the angry ball of fur, who finally settles and curls up on his lap. See, she loves it.
Sadly, Remy has to startle Spitfire when someone exits their seat and turns towards him. It’s Logan, walking to the back of the room, most likely for the mini-fridge and lockers. The thief crosses one leg over the other, flicks the tail of his coat over his lap and - just to be safe - brings a deck of cards into his lap, hopefully looking like he’s inspecting them, rather than hiding something underneath.
Logan passes him quickly, then the sound of a fridge buzzing and bottles clinking can be heard as the feral mutant grabs a root beer, just as Remy suspected. He can imagine Logan’s nose scrunching behind him as he takes a sip - there had been several ‘debates’ amongst the team about whether alcohol should be permitted on the Blackbird. Remy and Logan were most strongly for it, with Charles and Scott firmly against it. Somehow the compromise was root beer, which Remy realises is not a compromise at all; he still doesn’t understand how Logan had let Scott win the argument.
Right now, Remy thinks he could do with a drink (something stronger than root beer), partly to celebrate a successful mission, and partly to calm his nerves about smuggling a cat onto Scott’s oh-so-precious jet and the future problem of having to keep it hidden in the mansion once they returned home. But alas, root beer is his only option, as he’d somehow rather ask Logan for one of his drinks than take one of Kitty’s sodas without permission and risk her wrath when she finds out.
He leans into the aisle and turns to the locker area, readying his charm to ask Logan for a bottle. Yet, when he peers round, Logan is already staring at him. His head is angled down, like he does when he’s caught the scent of something. Merde.
“Why do I smell-” Logan’s damning question is cut off by a shrill alarm, and Scott shouting from the cockpit.
“Seats, now!” he orders, and Remy is almost thankful for the interruption, at least before the world tilts and his stomach is left behind.
The jet veers left sharply, causing a series of exclamations from each member of the team. Logan is thrown across the locker area with a crash, then stumbles to his seat once the floor is horizontal again. Scott and Jean are focused, flipping switches, prodding buttons whilst Remy grits his teeth as Spitfire claws at his legs to stay in the chair. As the radar blares, the Blackbird steadies, and Scott speaks up after quickly switching from ruby quartz sunglasses back to his visor again - a clear message to all. X-Men never catch a break.
“Sorry about that, we’ve got company,” he says.
“The brotherhood?” Gambit, Wolverine and Jubilee all ask in sync.
“No,” Jean says, staring through the windshield to their attackers. “This looks like A.I.M..”
“I thought they were the Avenger’s problem,” Wolverine grumbles.
“Yeah, we’re always cleaning up their messes,” Cyclops huffs, then he shares a glance with Jean. “Jubilee, take the copilot seat.”
Jubilee sputters in her seat, both shocked and scared by the offer. Jean leaves her seat and waits with a grin for the teen to exit hers. By now the girl’s expression has shifted to mild panic.
“That sounded like an order, petite. Non?” Gambit teases.
“Oh, it was definitely an order,” Jean adds, still smiling bright. Wolverine chucks some gruff encouragement from his seat, and Jubilee finally acquiesces.
In the pilot’s seat, Cyclops is collected. Everyone, even Jubilee, should know that A.I.M. aren’t exactly the most dangerous foes to face - at least not for the X-Men. The team leader weaves the jet through a series of smooth maneuvers, whilst eyeing both the sky ahead and the radar on the console.
“You’ve always said you want more experience with the Blackbird,” the man says. “You can man the weapons systems, now that you’ve had enough practice.”
Gambit can’t help but smile; Cyclops is a tough, meticulous, and sometimes stubborn leader. But at heart, Scott Summers is a teacher, and a good one. His voice is soft, calm as he reminds Jubilee of her training, and Gambit catches just a glimpse of his teeth - a true smile from the leader as the teen settles into the seat beside him.
Jean clips herself into Jubilee’s old seat and turns to Gambit and Wolverine. Spitfire is tucked quietly beside Gambit now, out of sight. Jean shares that there’s two A.I.M. jets tailing them, attempting to lock on to the X-Men and fire a missile.
“The hell do they want with us?” Logan snarls.
Jean hums. “I’m not sure. They could have had enough of being stopped by the Avengers-
Not stopped well enough, but since when do the Avengers care for mutants?
“- and changed targets. Their M.O seems to be creating advanced technology and using it to overthrow… whoever they like.”
“You think maybe they wanna branch out to mutant experimentation?” Gambit suggests. Logan growls. Whoops, désolé.
“Then why not go after mutant civilians?” Jean counters.
“Maybe they stupid?” gets a chuckle from Jean. “Or maybe they after our beloved Blackbird instead!” Gambit says louder to be heard by Cyclops at the front of the jet. They all laugh at the leader’s answering scowl.
After some turbulent flying, Jubilee announces she’s hit one of their attackers. She’s showered in praise, and it makes her sit a bit more relaxed, quelling her grip on the joystick in her hands. All seems fine until Cyclops inhales sharply and yanks the jet to one side. Then the radar whines again and the whole jet shudders, a muffled explosion sounding from outside the aircraft. They’ve been hit. Gambit hears him soothe Jubilee - her attack skills are not at fault - then his voice addresses them all.
“Our shields are damaged - their jets are reinforced, we need more power to take them down. Gambit: I need you to reroute the power from our shields to our weapons system. Jean, I want telekinetic shielding instead. I’ll try to keep us steady, but no promises.”
Everyone moves immediately. Jean lifts from the ground, flying to stand between Cyclops and Jubilee, eyes on the radar display. Gambit unclips himself and stands, ready to get to the power system when he pauses. Merde. What do I do with de cat? Spitfire looks terrified, her claws have pierced the leather of the seat below her, and Gambit doesn’t want her flying around the room next time Cyclops decides to do a barrel roll. He looks around, and his eyes land on the one person not assigned a task. Wolverine.
“This is Spitfire,” he says to the man, then scoops up the feline and plonks her on Logan’s lap. He ignores anything past the ‘I fucking knew it’ he hears and bolts down the length of the jet. He passes the lockers, then the small holding cell where a barely-conscious Pyro looks green with motion sickness, then arrives at what looks like an elaborate fuse box the size of a wardrobe.
The wires have been tidied as much as possible, but they’re still a tangled mess, being for all the Blackbird’s facilities. He scans the labels where each branch of wires funnel into the right side of the box. Gambit barely able to read this, why can’t Cyke colour code it? Oh yeah. He finds the huge cables marked as ‘shields’ and yanks them from their port. Or starts to. Tries to. Because the cables are tough, almost impossible to move, and also because as soon as he lays a hand on them, the jet nosedives, and Gambit finds himself face-to-face with the ceiling lights, before he comes crashing down to the floor. Ow .
He recovers, then stands in a crouch to account for the violent flying and fishes a lockpick from his coat. He holds it in his teeth as he also grabs a pair of silicone gloves from a pocket - ones he keeps on him for stealth missions ( and a little thievin’) that keep him from getting fried when sabotaging electrics systems. He pulls them on and slides the lockpick into the port. He shimmies it until he hears a click - the wires unclipping - and he’s able to pull the cables out.
He manages to stay upright when the aircraft is hit again - it seems like both Cyclops and Jean have been successful; the explosion comes from the tail of the jet, behind it as if Cyclops dodged it but Jean’s shielding caught it anyway, just in case. Gambit steadies himself and locks the cables into the extra ports labelled ‘weapons system’.
“I swear I just hit that guy before!” he hears Jubilee shout from the front of the jet.
Just to make sure the pesky A.I.M. ships go down, Gambit tugs the wires labelled ‘cloaking’ and ‘fridge’ - both being a more manageable size (especially the fridge one) - out from their ports and into the weapons one. Mission complete, Gambit closes the box and moves back to the seating area. More like climbs back, as the plane is at a forty-five degree angle to recover altitude from the nosedive. He grabs the headrests for support and pats Spitfire on the way past.
“Everything’s powering artillery - try now,” he says to Jubilee. Then he looks to Cyclops, whose silence seems odd, until Gambit notices him and Jean share the same expression - they’re having a telepathic conversation.
“Care to clue the rest of us in?” Jubilee asks.
“Sorry, I need Cyclops to line them up just right…” She trails off, then stares down at the radar. Her eyes close and she holds up an open hand before suddenly clenching it into a fist. A boom comes from far outside the Blackbird and a light goes out on the radar display.
“Nicely done,” says Gambit, and they’re mid high-five when Jubilee whines:
“Save one for me! And don’t make it easy, Cyke!”
Gambit and Jean share a look before rushing to their seats. Then the Blackbird is diving and twirling; the lone A.I.M. aircraft doesn’t stand a chance with a pilot as skilled as Scott. Everything lurches sideways, then the team is pushed back into their chairs when the leader decides to go for a genuine loop-de-loop. Jubilee’s face is of pure concentration - with an unblinking stare and her tongue stuck out one side of her mouth. As they finish the loop, she fires. A bang sounds out and the jet's windshields darken soon after, flying through the subsequent smoke. Jubilee beams.
“Nice job,” Scott chuckles. He offers a fistbump, an action which many of the students at the mansion have likened to a handshake from that judge from that British baking show Piotr loves to watch on TV.
“It’s just like an arcade game,” the teen shrugs, but she’s smiling and reciprocates the fistbump.
“She’ll be in the pilot’s seat next,” Jean jokes, then cackles at Scott’s grimace.
It’s smooth flying after that, no more aerobatics as Jean offers to take over piloting for the rest of the journey home. Remy decides to copilot, and passes Scott, who is on his way to reset the power systems. As soon as the man is behind him, he remembers Spitfire. Ah, non.
“How long has that been in here?” Scott says. Remy rushes to put himself between him and the cat. Jean and Jubilee both look their way curiously, and the latter squeals when she sees Spitfire.
“You brought a cat onto my jet-” Scott scolds Remy.
“I found her in de rubble, she had nowhere to go!” Remy pleads. He takes Spitfire from Logan and forces Scott to look at her, covered in concrete and so, so cute.
“What if she’s gotten hurt just now?”
“I gave her to Logan, she was fine. Her name is Spitfire.” And of course Scott, the aviation nerd, pauses at this. Jubilee starts a chorus of pleasepleasepleaaaase from her seat.
“We have rules at the mansion for a reason-”
“Charles has always said we are free to challenge those rules,” Jean says, not even looking at them anymore.
Gambit decides to appeal to Scott’s logical, strategic mind. “There are so many benefits to having a pet, especially for the lil’uns!”
Scott seems to be preparing a counter-argument, when Logan returns from where he had apparently slipped away to the back of the ship. He’s holding four bottles and a packet of beef jerky. He walks to the cockpit and hands a root beer to Jean and Jubilee before coming back to Scott. He hands him a bottle after taking the cap off with one claw, then he slices the jerky open.
“C’mon, Scotty. You telling me she ain’t cute?” he says quietly, almost privately, and feeds Spitfire a jerky piece.
With the bright sky behind him, and his visor now switched for sunglasses, Remy can just about see his eyes behind the ruby quartz. They flicker between Logan and the cat with an emotion he doesn’t recognise, at least not on Scott. Remy doesn’t know if it’s everyone ganging up on him, the team’s great arguments, or just Logan using the nickname ‘Scotty’ (which, said by anybody else, usually annoys the man) and feeding the cat, but Scott finally gives in.
“Alright. But Hank won’t be too happy, nor Charles. We’ll need to keep her hidden until we compile an argument for keeping her.”
O’ course he would strategise this, mon dieu.
Scott nods to himself, then goes to fix the power system and check Pyro wasn’t thrown around too badly in the dogfight. But not before scratching Spitfire under the chin, and smiling softly. Everyone returns to their seats, Remy bringing Spitfire to the copilot’s seat. The cat seems surprisingly interested in the clouds whizzing by.
When the landing gear comes out and they glide down into the hangar, the team has created a near-foolproof plan to sneak Spitfire into the mansion. Near-foolproof. The ramp lowers and Jubilee marches out, ready to distract anyone coming to meet them with the story of her first time shooting the Blackbird’s weaponry. Behind her, Remy slinks out with Spitfire tucked under his arm, beneath his coat.
His plan is to sneak straight to the elevator and hide Spitfire in the garage. He is not expecting Rogue,and Charles all at the bottom of the ramp. Whilst all three do listen to the youngest team member’s tale, Charles can always sense when something is up. And Remy can’t bring himself to walk straight by without saying hello to his chére. Remy make this quick, then we get the kitty safe ‘n sound.
But midway through greeting Rogue, Spitfire decides to do a roly-poly under his arm and escape. She lands quite elegantly, meows loudly, then runs behind the jet’s ramp. Remy runs to catch her, and finds the cat… marking her territory. It’s too late to put the cat back in the bag, and now everyone has eyes on the cat defiling Scott’s precious Blackbird. Pyro, being led by Logan and Jean, cackles at the sight.
“Remy LeBeau,” Charles chuckles. “We have a rule about pets…”