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“For me, not so much a vow—(my promises never been worth much, anyway)—as an affirmation. I love you with every piece of me, Anna Marie. I haven’t always been a good man. But we’ve been through hell and it’s changed me. You’ve changed me. You see in me the man I hope I am. And that’s my vow to you…to always be worthy of your love and respect.” —Remy LeBeau’s wedding vows.
“Remy…we’ve been through so much, you and I. We’ve faced challenges a lotta other couples never have to face. But we always keep finding ways back to each other. So that’s what I promise you…that no matter what, I’ll always find my way back to you.” —Rogue’s wedding vows.
—from X-Men Gold #30 (2018)
Remy studied his reflection in the mirror of the guest bathroom. Though, he supposed it would be more accurate at this point to call it his bathroom. Since they’d married and Rogue had moved into the apartment, they’d found it a little too distracting to share a bathroom as they got ready in the morning—or anytime really. And tonight, he wanted everything to be perfect.
Checking for the hundredth time, he ran a finger along his freshly shaven jaw. It wouldn’t stay smooth for long, but he knew she’d appreciate the effort. Besides, he wasn’t the only one making a big ado about tonight. Right now Rogue was across the apartment getting ready for their anniversary date night. Wanting to surprise him, she’d shooed him out of their room before her bath.
He hummed happily at the thought of her—his wife. The last year had been a miracle he still wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve. Course, she’d tell him that it wasn’t about deserving. Being with her—spending day in and day out with the woman he loved with every facet of his being, the woman whom he couldn’t live without any more than he could live without breathing—he finally understood something that baffled him as a child. One of the times when Tante Mattie had taken him to Sunday morning Mass, the old priest had read a passage from Corinthians during the homily.
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”
The words had stuck with Remy, lingering in the back of his mind. Even as a boy, he had thought the sentiments were beautiful, though he hadn’t been certain that such a love actually existed. It had taken years before Remy had begun to understand, before he experienced even an inkling of that kind of love. But, now, he understood. It was the kind of love he and Rogue kept striving for. The Lord only knows the number of times they had messed up. Remy had lost count of all the times they’d been the farthest thing from patient with each other, or how often they had held a myriad of perceived and actual wrongs against each other instead of forgiving. But now, everyday they were working on a love that protected, that trusted, that hoped. Through all the valleys and mountaintops their relationship had been through over the years, they had never stopped loving each other. Continually, they came back together and tried again. Persevering. He grinned. This time, this time they were committed ’til death do we part.
“Sugah, ya almost ready?” Rogue called from beyond the partially closed bedroom door.
“Oui.” Remy ran his fingers through his hair, making certain it laid just right. Once satisfied, he straightened and tugged any hint of wrinkle or crease from his slim fit suit jacket. His tailor had sworn that Remy would make all the ladies swoon. Apparently, the man had thought he was paying Remy the height of compliments, but Remy had begged to differ. He did’t care about all the ladies, there was only one woman whose opinion mattered to him. And, she was waiting for him.
“Ah’m coming out.”
Remy hurried from his exile into the hall outside their bedroom so he wouldn’t miss a moment of her reveal. And…wow…
At the sight of her—the heart of his heart, his Beloved, his Wife—his jaw dropped and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. When he regained a modicum of his senses, he took her by the gloved hand and managed a hoarse, “Enchanté.”
“Do ya like it, Cajun?” Rogue raised their joint hands and spun under them, giving him a full view.
Mon dieu. Did he like it? Of course he did. She took his breath away on a daily basis. What did she expect this to do to him?
He had expected green. Green was her color. It was the color of her eyes. She’d worn a light sage when they married. Her uniform was a darker shade of the same. Half the clothes in her wardrobe contained at least some green. But, tonight, she had chosen a soft, almost pearlescent grey. The shimmery material draped and flowed over her curves.
The slit in the floor length skirt cut high over her knee and revealed a glimpse of a familiar lacy band around her thigh. His fingers brushed the garter and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to form even an ounce of the restraint he needed to keep from continuing his exploration. He remembered the first time he’d seen the garter, touched it, and slid it up past Rogue’s knee—just as careful then as now not to touch her soft, creamy skin. It was the same garter he’d caught on the day of Scott and Jean’s wedding all those years ago.
His fingers trailed up along the lines of the dress, slipping along the shimmering fabric as he traced her curves. The back and the front of the bodice were high and fitted, while her shoulders were bare except for delicate, narrow straps. A gossamer wrap looped behind her back and draped over the crook of her arms.
“Not used to ya bein’ speechless, swamp rat.” Rogue wrapped her arms around her husband and she looked up into his face. Her flirtatious smile practically begged for a forbidden kiss.
He lowered his head until their lips almost brushed. Neither one moved.
“You are magnifique, ma colombe.” He breathed the words across her lips like a promised kiss. She quivered and pressed closer. They would miss dinner if they kept this up and they had a long way to go before they were ready to indulge in this particular…dessert.
Remy stepped back and took her hand again. He pressed a row of kisses along her knuckles, then worked his way up her arm, only stopping when he placed the last kiss a hair’s breadth from the top of the opera length glove.
“Ya know,” Rogue said with a catch of desire in her voice. “When Ah bought this dress, they said the color’s dove grey. Figured that had to be a sign.”
He placed his free hand at the small of her back, profoundly grateful for the protective layer of material as he skimmed his fingers up her spine. “I figure you’re right ‘bout dat.”
Shifting her hand so their fingers intertwined, she brought their joint hands to her lips. Pressing the back of her hand to her lips, she squeezed his glove-less hand. He would need to remedy that posthaste, since he wasn’t about to spend another moment not touching her.
Rogue had good days and bad ones when it came to controlling her powers. The amount of concentration and control required to hold her absorption abilities at bay varied depending on what kind of day she was having. Since their good morning kiss, they had both known that today was going to be rough for her control-wise and that it would be a gloves-on kind of evening. Remy didn’t mind. While he preferred caressing his wife with his bare hands, he wasn’t about to put all the responsibility for their well-being on her. He could share at least a part of this burden with her.
From where he’d laid it out earlier across the back of the couch, he scooped up the leather trench coat Rogue had given him for Christmas. It was the same length as the brown duster he wore for work, but this one had a more fitted cut and was made of a supple black leather. It was for when they were out on the town and wanted to be dressier than their normal work clothes. Though it wasn’t meant for hero-ing (or, thieving), she’d made certain there were plenty of pockets for all his necessities—decks of playing cards, his lock picks, and even his collapsible bō staff. He’d had the coat for about six months and had only managed to wear it three or four times. On the other hand, the driving gloves he received at the same time had received quite a bit more use. The buttery leather was soft from frequent wear and they were practically molded to the contours of his hands. They felt like a second skin as he slipped them on.
Running her hands along the lapels of his bespoke suit, Rogue gave a happy half sigh, half hum. “You look good enough to eat, sugah.”
Remy grinned. It was good to know that he wasn’t the only one who had such thoughts. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Dinner first.”
Rogue gave him a sultry pout that was certainly meant to drive him wild. Before he could respond in kind, the teasing smile dropped from her lips. Mechanically, she reached past him for her inhibitor bracelet.
“Non, mon coeur. Not yet.” Remy closed his hand over hers, clasping the cool metal between their gloved hands.
“Remy, Ah want to…” She cupped her gloved hand over his smooth cheek. “…Ah want to touch ya.”
“I know, chère. I jus’ hate seein’ you in pain.” He rested his fingertips gently against her temple where he could already feel the building tension at the mere thought of the inhibitor. “I promise I will be good.”
“What if Ah don’t want ya to be good?” The flirtatious tone was back.
Remy swallowed back the lump in his throat. His wife was a mighty fine woman and he could never get enough of her. He leaned in and murmured in a husky whisper, “You don’ have to worry about dat, I’ll be plenty bad, as bad as you want…later tonight.”
“Ah’m goin’ hold ya to that Cajun.” She slid the bracelet into her purse as she placed her hand on the crook of his arm.
****
The ‘out of the house’ portion of the evening had ended earlier than Remy had planned, but he wasn’t surprised. Or, complaining about the turn of events. After all, they’d scarcely been able to keep their hands—gloved or otherwise—off each other. They were barely past the threshold of the apartment and they were already pressing things as far as they could go without needing to resort to the inhibitor bracelet. Even a year of marriage had done nothing to quell their passion and now they had no reason to deny it.
Remy pressed a series of kisses along Rogue’s shoulders through the diaphanous wrap she’d tugged over her bare skin under the pretence of a chill. With gentle kisses and fluttering fingers, Remy continued to work his way down her arm and back up the other side to her collarbone, where with growing ardour he grew reckless. Rogue pressed into his touch; her breathing grew rapid and her heart raced. Deftly, Remy reached behind her and plucked the pins from her hair, releasing her red locks from their elegant coiffure. Her newly freed hair fell over her shoulders in gentle curls. He entwined his fingers into her loose hair and tilted her face towards his.
“Sugah, wait….” She pressed a hand against his sternum and pushed him away.
Though he groaned a low, almost feral sound, and his red on black eyes sparked bright with passion, he allowed her to hold him at bay. He would always push for as much as she would allow him to have, but he would never force her beyond what she was willing to give. With a kiss to the back of her hand, he murmured in a low voice, “Take all de time you need, mon coeur.”
After moving to the kitchen, Remy forced himself to slow as he prepared wine and a snack for later. He hummed softly as he worked, listening to his wife as she moved about their bedroom. When the rustling from the other room settled, he gathered the provisions and headed for her.
Nudging the door open with his foot, Remy inhaled in pleasure at the sight before him. Rogue had lit candles and placed them around the room. The candlelight cast her pale flesh in shades of flickering gold—like a gilded treasure waiting for her thief’s tender embrace. Still wearing the dove grey dress, she lounged on the bed and angled her leg just so. The slit of the dress draped to the side, revealing not only the garter he’d spent the evening longing to remove, but also the creamy skin of her leg. His heart raced as his body responded to the flare of desire.
She beckoned him with the wave of a glove free hand. The links of the golden inhibitor bracelet clinked at her wrist. “Ah’m ready, Cajun. You gonna help me off with this dress?”
“Oui,” he breathed the word, low and husky. Setting down the tray on a nightstand, he joined her on the bed.
Slowly, he traced his hand along the lacy garter, before following the curve of her leg. She moaned at the unrestrained touch—flesh against flesh for the first time that evening. Catching his free hand, she brought it to her lips and kissed each calloused and scarred fingertip. All thoughts of time disappeared as the slow exploring kisses and caresses built into a rising mutual passion.
Just as Rogue began to undo the buttons of his shirt—the tie and jacket already long gone—Remy ran feather-light fingertips up her forearm to her wrist. Deftly, he slipped several fingers under the bracelet. Less powerful than the collar had been, the bracelet couldn’t manage to fully dampen either Rogue’s power absorption or Remy’s kinetic energy while it circled both of them. Even knowing the power drain was coming, Remy exhaled in a tight hiss. His head swam with the wave of lightheadedness which always accompanied the sudden dampening of the energy coursing through his veins, the power that was an innate part of his very being. Rogue gasped as the pull of her mutant abilities tugged against his powers and memories as the inhibitor attempted to accommodate and mute the second set of powers.
Taking advantage of the momentary gap in her concentration caused by the pull and spark where their bare skin touched, Remy didn’t hesitate. He brushed a kiss against Rogue’s lips. In the seconds that their lips touched—soft, welcoming, and trying to hold onto the moment for as long as possible—her weakened powers absorbed a fleeting montage of images and emotions. The night so far replayed in a timeline out of order with a swirl of moments plucked from his most recent memories. He’d offered her the brightest, sharpest memories accompanied by the associated thoughts and feelings. The impressions that accompanied each image left an indelible mark on his psyche and therefore hers as well. For a brief moment, they shared one soul.
Love. Sacrifice. Longing. Passion. Commitment. Desire. Want…
…The first heart stopping moment of seeing her in that grey dress that filled him anew with desire and admiration for his beautiful, strong wife. She deserved the world and all her dreams to come true. He vowed again, that he would do whatever it took to be the man worthy of this woman…
…There was an appreciative smirk on his face as he watched Rogue stretch long and lean over the pool table as prepared her shot. She knew he was behind her and watching appreciatively. The game was forgotten as the music changed to a song they both knew. She wrapped her arms around him and he pulled her close and they danced as one. They were overdressed for the bar, but Remy didn’t notice or care. He was too enthralled by his wife and her intoxicating presence. Even without skin contact, his heart pulsed a rapid tattoo in sync with the beat of her heart. They both grew giddy as she tugged his hand, leading him out into the night…
…His fingers itched to trace the garter that peeked through the slit in the dress. It reminded him of the early days of their courtship. Push and pull. Desire and fear. Love. Love that burned bright and bold in their souls no matter their distance. Love that they could never quite quench no matter how they tried to subdue their passions. And now, that lacy band seemed to encompass the accumulation of all those experiences—the good and the bad, the joy and the pain, the love and the longing—and remind him of that joyous day a year ago when all their dreams came true. The band seemed to stretch from one long anticipated union to another…this time a union of their own. The one they celebrated every day. The union for which he would do anything to keep whole and strong…
…They’re on their way home at last. She drove his car, skillfully changing gears and pushing the limits of machine and road. With his lips quirked in a cheeky grin, he urged her on and took advantage of the moment to study her. She drove with that passionate energy of hers that she’d spent years hiding behind layers. Holding herself apart because she was afraid to let go around others, afraid of the hurt. But it was different now. When she was with him, she didn’t need to hide or hold back. Though she wore gloves, she knew she was safe with him. With him she could risk her heart and he could risk his. As she embraced him, she could embrace all the possibilities their future offered. Wind tugged at loose strands of white hair while she pushed the car as fast as she dared. His gloved hand rested on her thigh, his thumb sneaking gentle caresses against the exposed sliver of her skin. The sooner they were home, the sooner they could indulge in the evening’s worth of passions they had teased in heated whispers and promised in tantalizing touches…
…They had dinner at the mom-and-pop restaurant they had discovered a few months back. It served the best deep-south home cooking that either of them had tasted since—well, since they’d both left home. The couple who owned the restaurant, Southern transplants like Remy and Rogue, had been married for over fifty years. Whenever the elderly couple was near each other, they touched—lingering and lovingly, gentle and generous. Throughout dinner, Remy held Rogue’s hand, rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. Rogue squeezed his hand tight in return as they watched the other couple tease and flirt and reminiscence over old stories. Music played softly over speakers hidden among the decor. Called by the familiar strains of a song from days long gone, the elderly couple began a slow, sweet dance. Feeling a similar pull, Remy led Rogue from their seats. With his hand pressed against the small of her back and her head resting on his shoulder, the young couple danced in the spaces between the tables. The moment was a snapshot of perfection. If Remy could have his druthers, in fifty plus years, he and Rogue would still be dancing together long into the night….
…Want. Desire. Commitment. Passion. Longing. Sacrifice. Love.
The overwhelming rush of emotion and memory quelled as Remy pulled back, giving Rogue the opportunity to regain her bearings. He grinned like the cat who’d gotten the cream. It had worked just as he’d planned.
“Remy Etienne LeBeau,” she rebuked him in a mild censure. Her eyes flashed red on black. “Be careful.”
“’m always careful, mon coeur,” he drawled in a languid purr. His eyes danced with mischief and desire. “I wanted to make sure dis t’ing was workin’.”
“Oh, it’s workin’ all right, swamp rat.” She detangled her arm from his hand and pulled him into a deep passionate kiss—this time without sharing memories.
This wasn’t the first time he’d attempted that particular trick, and it wouldn’t be the last. Not long after she started wearing this version of the bracelet, they had discovered the loophole in the inhibitor’s functions by accident. Hank had fixed the flaw in subsequent versions. She’d worn this one on purpose, knowing he’d try. Inviting him to share.
Besides, she’d already shared his darkest memories and most shameful secrets, surely she deserved to share his best as well.
****
Remy laid on his side, snuggled up against his wife’s bare back with an arm wrapped around her waist. In the lazy state between not quite awake and not quite asleep, he was content to languidly explore Rogue’s skin with barely there caresses. She hummed drowsily and pressed closer, if such a thing was possible. Under his skin, his fingertips buzzed with pent up energy. He flexed his fingers, forcing the energy to dissipate back into his body. There was nothing he wanted to discharge it on at the moment, so he stilled himself and waited for the energy to resume an even flow within his body. The small hairs on the back of his arm stood on end and a harmless static shock leapt between his fingers and the sheet.
At the momentary pause of his touch, Rogue reached back and placed her palm along his bare hip. The bracelet pressed between her exposed arm and his equally naked side, a cold, heavy reminder of what their intimacy cost. They didn’t often spend the whole night like this, indulging in the in the pleasure of prolonged skin-on-skin contact. She didn’t sleep well while wearing the inhibitor, and he didn’t sleep well when she didn’t sleep well.
“You okay, sugah?” Rogue rolled slightly against him. He studied the features of her face by the sliver of moonlight which snuck through the gap in the curtains. Her voice was slightly more alert than her sleepy demeanor might otherwise suggest.
“Oui. Just stretchin’.” He touched her chin and directed her face towards his. He pressed gentle, deepening kisses to her lips, suddenly feeling much more awake.
In the otherwise silent room, the discordant, jarring ring of a cellphone broke into their rising ardor. Remy groaned and groped for his phone on the nightstand, only it wasn’t there. At the continuing unwanted interruption, Rogue winced—a tightness that tugged from the corner of her eyes to her temples—and pulled a pillow over her head.
“I’ll take care of dis, mon coeur.” He pressed a kiss to the hand holding the pillow over her face and slid out of bed. Their clothes were strewn on the floor around the bed in forgotten piles. Searching for his suit jacket, Remy reached into an inner pocket and found the offending device.
He sighed heavily when Kitty’s name flashed across the screen. Apparently answering her call during their honeymoon had set a dangerous precedent. Would they ever be allowed an uninterrupted romantic assignation?
He and Rogue had both gently reminded her that they would be unavailable for missions over the weekend, that they would be celebrating their anniversary. She’d wished them well and had promised to leave them be for anything short of Apocalypse. So, the world better damn well be ending.
Unable to leave the call unanswered, Remy held the phone to his ear as he stepped out into the hall. From here he could watch the rise and fall of Rogue’s breathing while she pretended that their weekend plans weren’t about to be completely decimated.
“Gambit,” Kitty said into his ear. Definitely a work call. “Are you there?”
“Oui, chère. Do you know what time it is?” His glance momentarily shifted to the alarm clock on the nightstand. A little after four in the morning.
She ignored the question. In fact, she barely paused long enough in her running dialogue to allow him to ask it. “I need you here as soon as possible. It’s important.”
“You promised we weren’t needed…”
Rogue had removed the pillow from over her head and cast a questioning gaze in his direction. He shrugged and gestured for her to lay back down. Kitty had yet to explain the emergency.
“I know, I know. The situation has changed. If this wasn’t important, I wouldn’t have called. It shouldn’t take too long.” Kitty’s voice was haunted by something more than a lack of sleep. It was enough to make him decide that they ought to see what had driven her into such a frantic state.
“All right, all right. We’ll be dere.” He re-entered the room and began rooting through the drawers for the pieces of their uniforms.
For the first time since he answered the call, Kitty hesitated. “Not Rogue. Just you.”
Remy frowned. His fingers twitched in restless movement. He wished he had grabbed his cards along with his phone. “Kitty, chère, you know, Rogue and I…we’re more than just man an’ wife…” Though never short of words, he grasped for the right words to complete his thought. Everything he considered fell short. How did he encompass everything he felt for Rogue, everything she meant to him, into words so Kitty might understand? “…we’re partners. I don’ like de t’ought of leavin’ her behind.”
It was Kitty’s turn to sigh heavily. “I promise I will explain everything once you’re here. I can’t risk it over the open line…”
“De line is not secured.” Familiar words indeed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This didn’t bode well.
“As soon as possible,” she repeated, anxiety edged her words.
“Oui.” She ended the call before he could finish uttering the single syllable.
“What did Kitty want?” Rogue propped herself up on her elbows.
“Wouldn’ say over de phone, but apparently, it’s important.” Returning to their bed, Remy straddled his wife. He kissed her, working his way up from her collarbone to her lips. “Says she needs me as soon as possible.”
Rogue raised an eyebrow as she flipped Remy to his back so she was now on top. “Then whatchya doin’ back in bed?”
A fire burned in his eyes and the charming smile that always made her weak in the knees spread across his face. “Dat’s simple, mon coeur, it’s not possible t’ leave yet.”
She laughed and responded with a kiss to his jaw that turned to a nip. “Definitely not possible.”
****
Later, when Rogue’s phone rang this time, neither she nor Remy were surprised. He was already out of the shower, in the process of toweling his hair dry. Rogue scarcely spared a moment from watching appreciatively as her husband dressed to scowl at her phone. “Want me to answer that, sugah?”
“Non. Kitty can lecture me in person jus’ as easily as she can over de phone. I’ll text her when I leave.” Dressed for work, Remy returned to his wife’s side. “I’ll be home soon. We’ll pick up where we left off, non?”
“Are ya sure Ah shouldn’ go with ya?” She ran her hand along the scruff of his five o’clock shadow.
“Stay, rest, mon coeur.” He leaned in for a long, lingering kiss. They were both panting slightly as he pulled away. A flicker of gold gleamed from between his fingers as he pocketed the inhibitor bracelet.
Rogue sank back into the bed with a small gasp of relief as her powers flooded back through her body at full force. Without the inhibitor, she could finally relax.
He smiled and pressed one last kiss to her hair. “Je t’aime.”
“I love ya too, Remy. Hurry back, ‘kay. Ah’m makin’ you pie. Boysenberry.” She smiled up at him with a sleepy, relaxed smile.
He lingered a moment longer, allowing his gaze to memorize every inch of his wife. Her hair was arranged across the pillow like a mussed halo and the sheet highlighted the curves his roaming fingers had long since taken to memory. In the growing dawn, he could see the lingering rosy glow of contentment across her skin. He would carry this image with him as he headed out into the burgeoning day. Mon dieu, she’s perfect.
Remy grinned back at the woman who had stolen his heart. Her breathing was even and her eyes were already close. “Sounds perfect, chère, I’ll be dere. I wouldn’ miss it for de world.”