Chapter Text
How many types of Monopoly are there?
Walking past yet another fruitless store of random trinkets and boring games, Remy sighed. As one of the few X-Men not out on a reconnaissance mission for the week, Charles had sent him out to search a local flea market for new games for the kids. Just some things to keep them busy on the weekends, the professor had said.
Remy pushed his sweat-slick hair out of his face with one hand, and held a half-empty box to his chest with the other as he weaved through the clammy crowd. He let his sunglasses fall to his nose as he cast a glance down at his current winnings - Cluedo, Trivial Pursuit, Twister. The sun continued to beat down on the unsheltered market, and showed no signs of relenting as Remy continued his search for something that the little rascals might find vaguely interesting (even if it only kept them from fighting with each other for ten minutes).
After spending too long rummaging around a box full of more Monopolies for something intriguing, the X-Man called off his search temporarily, if only to escape the sweltering heat for a bit. Slinking into a shaded alley, he set down his goods and pulled out his phone. He was midway through sending Rogue an update (complaining about how she hadn’t joined him) when a small chirp interrupted him. Then a distinct meow.
Remy’s head shot up. Gambit wants to pet de cat .
Peering further down the alley revealed a tiny ball of orange fur staring intensely at him; a kitten sat primly in the opening of an overturned trash can. Remy slowly, gracefully tip-toed his way over, stealthy as any master thief. The cat seemed to debate if the man could be a threat for a moment, before concluding he was safe and trotting over to his feet,
“ Bonjour, petit. You got de right idea, stayin’ in the shade. Trop chaud, n’est-ce pas?”
Crouching to pet the kitten, Remy pocketed his sunglasses and noticed no collar around its neck. Gambit wanna take you home. Poor thing. He stopped scratching its chin to search his coat pockets. Pulling out a water bottle, he cupped one hand and filled it with - unfortunately lukewarm - water, which the kitten drank enthusiastically. Adorable.
“Gambit really wanna take you home petit, but he knows what th’ prof would sa-”
-BZZT ! The kitten jumped. Remy fumbled his phone out of his jeans as it quickly returned to continue sniffing at his feet. A text from Rogue had come through, concerned that he might have been lost to the flea market, or to the heatwave, or started a fight over a board game with some idiot immune to his natural charm. As if. He finished the message he’d started typing before meeting the cutest distraction ever and sent it, hopefully convincing her that all was well. A confused chirp then caused him to look down again. Where had the cat gone? Standing up and scanning the ground revealed the fluffball had been lost in the cape of Remy’s coat - it voiced a happy meow at being freed. Chuckling to himself, Remy snapped a picture of the rascal and sent it to Rogue.
The reply was instant. Rem, you cannot bring them back to the mansion x.
“Merde,” Remy whispered.
Then another text. Get back soon sugar, Jean’s almost done cooking. Of course. He typed out a reply about how “unlucky” he might be to conveniently miss out on a meal cooked by Jean, and sent it before pocketing the phone. He pet the kitten, now clawing at his coat, before heading towards the alley’s entrance. He turned back to look at the cat, and frowned at the fluffy little face which now looked a tad dejected.
“Je suis désolé, petit. You stay safe, oui?”
Remy picked up his box of games and ventured back into the market. Almost instantly he spied something of interest. A box labelled Kerplunk sat on the top of a table a few stalls away. Jackpot . He darted between people, marched across the aisle, sidled up to the desk and reached for the box, pulling it off of the table… only to be met with more resistance than expected. Another hand was on the game now, sweaty and filthy; it belonged to a sour-faced man who stared at Remy accusingly. His snobbish gaze made its way to meet Remy’s eyes, and turned into something closer to disgust. Merde, my eyes! The mutant swiftly dropped his box to the ground and reached for his sunglasses, his other hand never ceasing its grip on his prize. He kept his head turned away from the man until his black and red eyes were covered, then faced him again with a wry smile. The stand-off begins.
“Give it up, mutie,” the man spat.
Remy couldn't help but huff out a laugh at the irony of hearing words like that at a flea market of all places, rather than on a mission like he was used to.
“Something funny, ugly?” he scoffed. Well now, Gambit knows he ain’t ugly.
“Pardon, monsieur, mais I t’ink I got here first, non?” Remy said calmly. He gave the man a pointed look, willing him not to start a fight over a board game because of blatant prejudice.
The man countered: “yeah well I think you have enough games in that box there.” Seriously .
“What’s your business with dis…” Remy paused before raising his voice, just enough for others to hear, “...Kerplunk, hm? I say de kids these games are goin’ to gonna have a lot more fun with it than you might”
The stall owner thankfully did hear him, and stood up from their lawn chair behind the desk. She was a young girl with long blonde hair - she aimed a judgmental look at the man on the other side of Kerplunk to Remy.
“I mean he was here first.” she offered. Oui, take that! The man seemed to ignore her at first, still glaring daggers over the box. Then he suddenly shoved it towards Remy and mumbled something not mutant-friendly, before stomping off to darken another stall. The surviving mutant visibly relaxed and turned to the stall owner with the game now held safely in both hands.
“My saviour!” he chuckled brightly. “Merci beaucoup, chère - now how much would dis be?”
—-----
It was getting dark by the time Remy parked the car in the mansion’s garage. The air was still hot and humid, heavy as he got out of the vehicle and walked to the lounge areas. Noticing that most of the kids had gone up to bed, he deduced that he’d missed whatever Jean had cooked for dinner. Not that Gambit’s complaining. So he set the box of games down in the lounge and made his way through to the kitchen.
The kids must have liked Jean’s dinner, because poor old Remy found no portion saved for him in the fridge. Maybe that serves him right for complaining. Shrugging it off, he rooted around the cupboards for inspiration before deciding a sandwich would be good enough for him. And one of the beignets he’d made earlier this week.
The dishwasher grumbled as the mutant made his meal in the dimly lit room; he cut meats and veggies for his sandwich and found himself something to drink. A small shifting sound caused him to look up from where he was cutting the assembled sandwich into two triangles. Remy Etienne LeBeau - Le Diable Blanc, a man raised by thieves who has fought countless monsters and villains without his charming wit faltering - would never admit to the high-pitched yelp that escaped him from the moment he saw a cat unexpectedly sat a foot in front of him, staring intensely at his sandwich.
After taking a second to recover from the scare, he realised that this was not just a cat, but the cat from the alley. Remy whipped his head around the room for a while, wondering where it had appeared from. Despite finding no clues and making himself somewhat dizzy, a huge grin broke through his confused expression. You followed lil ol’ Remy home! The cat let out a chirp as the mutant scratched behind its ears, but did not release Remy’s dinner from its gaze, a harsh scowl that made him glad the kitten didn’t have Scott’s mutation, lest his sandwich be obliterated.
“Excusez-moi, petite! Where are Gambit’s manners?” He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest.
Unwisely trusting the cat not to eat his dinner whilst his back was turned, Remy started to dig around the cupboards again. Ain’t gonna let th’ poor thing watch me eat my dinner all hungry, not if Remy can help. Aha! Remy paused in rooting through a high cupboard (one with claw marks in, thanks to Logan struggling to reach) and turned to the cat with his hands hidden. Then with a wave of his coat he brandished a can of tuna in front of the kitten. When it gave him a fairly puzzled look, he shrugged and set to serving his customer.
“Voila!” He exclaimed and brought a small plate of tuna and his own sandwich over to the dining table. He pulled out a chair where he’d set down the tuna, and gestured for the cat to make its way up to the table, which it did while Remy fetched his drink and a dish of water for his dining companion. His nameless dining companion. Remy paused midway through a bite of his meal and looked at the cat on the table across from him, clearly enjoying the food. Cat needs a name, he concluded, then furrowed his brows in thought.
“Fish!” He blurted suddenly. The cat looked at Remy like he was deranged. Rude.
Fish - to Remy - was a great name. One: go fish, the card game. Two: the cat is eating fish, and clearly enjoys doing so. Also, it was funny (again, to Remy) to call a cat Fish. Because it is a cat. It is not a fish.
He quickly glanced at the cat in question. He is not a fish.
“Super! You shall be known as Fish. Or if you feelin’ fancy: Monsieur Poisson.” he announced. The cat had just finished licking his plate clean, and meowed at Remy, hopefully as thanks. Now Fish jus’ needs somewhere to stay for de night. Stacking up the plates and his glass to wash up later, he turned to Fish. You gonna let Gambit pick ya up?
He carefully approached the cat with his arms out, giving him the option to back away if he felt uncomfortable. Fish only edged closer to the mutant, seemingly looking for more pets. He slowly scooped up the cat who didn’t protest at all. Remy couldn’t keep the excited smile off of his face. The two slinked down the hall and towards the stairs to Remy’s room. He shares the room with his partner, Rogue, but has been sleeping alone for the last few nights with many X-Men out on a mission. They were set to return home in a couple days.
When passing the lounge area, he spied inside, eyes landing on the box of games he'd put in there earlier. Looking between it and the cat in his arms, he put together how the cat had gotten from the flea market to the mansion - by hiding in the box, likely when Remy had set it down to argue with that man over Kerplunk. Sneaky. I t’ink you’d make a great thief.
He shut the door, turned on a lamp and gently let Fish onto the floor. The cat cautiously explored the room, whilst Remy set to forming a makeshift cat bed. He piled spare pillows and blankets to create a nest that was much too big for the kitten, but it definitely looked cosy. Then he found Fish nosing at Rogue’s hair products and ushered him towards his new bed, before going to shower and get ready for bed himself.
Midway through brushing his teeth he peered out of the bathroom to check on his new friend. He found that the cat bed was empty and saw the fluffball curled up on his pillow instead. Awww. He finished up in the bathroom and then moved to stand next to his bed, looking over Fish.
“You can’t sleep here petit, dis Remy’s bed. You got one all fo’ yourself over there, oui?” He whispered to the sleepy cat, picking it up. He cradled it to his chest, walked across the room and set it down on the pile of pillows and blankets. Fish let out a sigh, but nuzzled into the bed and curled up smaller. Remy couldn’t help but feel mean now. G’night petit. Remy turned out the lights, settled in his bed, and was quickly asleep.
About an hour had passed when he was awoken by a light but painful pressure on his chest, and an insistent noise. He blearily opened his eyes and made out the outline of Fish sitting directly on top of his chest. The insistent noise was a series of meows which seemed to quiet now that Remy was awake. Half-asleep, he could only think of petting the cat. So he did. Taking this as being allowed to stay in Remy’s bed, Fish clumsily jumped off of the mutant, climbed over his arm, and curled up in the crook of his elbow, head resting on his arm. Remy was too tired to protest. How could he say no to that face? Fish seemed to already be asleep again, so he stroked over the cat’s back a few times and then closed his eyes again.
—----
The morning sun was filtering through the curtains when Remy woke up. He stretched and yawned, before noticing a dip towards the end of his bed. Opening his eyes and brushing the hair out of his face, he also noticed the distinct lack of Fish anywhere near him. Finally, he looked towards the dip in the bed and found Rogue.
Rogue was sitting at the end of his bed. Rogue, who wasn’t supposed to be back home until days later. Rogue, who wasn't supposed to know about Fish. Speaking of the little devil, Fish was sleeping in Rogue’s lap; the woman pet the cat slowly like a Bond villain. Remy would have attempted to feign sleep, if not for the disapproving look his partner had fixed directly at him. Merde.
“So who’s your new friend Remy?” she drawled teasingly.
Remy stuttered around a response, then settled for a pitiful sigh. Rogue found it hard not to feel bad for him, the poor man just can’t help bringing home strays. Plus, she’d be lying if she said that the cat wasn’t adorable. She yielded her stare and gave him a more sympathetic look, before picking up the sleeping cat and moving to lay beside him, placing Fish in the middle of them. She leaned over the cat to kiss Remy on the cheek. A bit less drowsy now, he smiled and took her hand.
“What you doin’ back so early?” Remy wondered out loud, petting Fish with his free hand.
“Recon finished up faster than Scott had planned, an’ Logan had been drivin’ him up the wall the whole time. You know how they are; fearless leader flew home fast as he could to finally catch some time away from Wolvie.” Rogue said.
Remy chuckled in lieu of a response. The two sat together for a while, enjoying each other's company and the quiet morning. Fish seemed comfortable around them both, and had started
playing under the duvet. Remy was first to break the silence.
“I named him Fish,” he stated, looking pleadingly to his partner.
“Sugah, you know ya can’t keep ‘im, doesn’t matter how cute he is.”
Remy couldn’t meet her eyes. Rogue looked at him, then at Fish.
“Hank’ll throw a hissy fit if he finds out, Rem.”
“If? That mean you not gonna make Remy send Fish away?”
“I could never, the poor furball’s adorable. But if someone finds out, y’all’re on your own.”
A smile lit up Remy’s face. He nodded.
“And you’re dealing with him when he wants to go potty, ya hear?”