Work Text:
Laura sat up in a cold sweat, claws popping with a sharp snikt in the eerily quiet room. The wind blew in through her cracked window, which was always open. Even in the winter, the dark-haired woman kept it cracked as the fresh air helped ease her mind, reminding her she had escaped those four sterile walls.
Laura glanced around, feeling the blood slowly dry and sticking to her skin. She sniffed the air and retracted her claws before standing up and stretching with a low groan. No use in sleeping anymore. She couldn’t remember what startled her awake. Her foggy mind lost the image before it could solidify in her memory. A slight itch on her thigh called to her, claws aching to scratch it. Instead, Laura decided to go out for a late-night run.
Quiet as a mouse, Laura opened her window and made her way out of the suffocating mansion. She landed with a light thud, her eyes scanning the property. Her gaze set on the woods before sprinting.
Time passed, and Laura eventually ran herself dry. As quick as the burn came, her healing factor fixed it and let her lungs expand without issue. Eventually, she collapsed from boredom, breathing deeply, and feeling the soft prickle of the grass around her. Laura heard soft steps crunching against the fallen leaves, recognizing the smell of worn leather, letting herself stay where she was.
“Cold yet, petite?”
Laura blinked open an eye, letting her eyes adjust to the moonlight to see a towering figure wearing a trench coat over bunny pajamas, complete with matching slippers.
“Hm…” Laura mumbled, unmoving.
Gambit sighed deeply, grunting as he sat down with Laura. He leaned back in the grass with a small dramatic oof, supporting himself on his arms.
“Gambit's body don’t move the way it used to.” He muttered somewhat bitterly. The constant battles and trips to the infirmary have taken their toll on the proud Cajun.
“No. That’s just because you’re old.” Laura quipped, eyes closed once more.
Gambit let out a light chuckle. “Oh-ho-ho, she’s got jokes, does she?" he muttered, glancing at the young girl he held dear to his heart.
They didn’t talk much. Gambit didn’t push it. He was just happy to be there for Laura when Logan couldn’t.
Gambit glanced up at the sky, taking in the clouds covering the sky. Pollution. The amount of exhaust and light made the seeing conditions of New York quite depressing.
Laura felt his gaze on her but didn’t object. She’s done the same thing to him back in Paris. She had a habit of watching people sleep, the way their chest would rise and fall, the slight twitch of their nose before rolling over to adjust. It was both a safety net and a need to understand. Maybe if she understood it, she’d be able to sleep.
Laura felt uneasy despite the cool breeze against her skin and Gambit’s comfort beside her. Her chest still felt tight, and her brain was swimming in old memories. The relief running gave her quickly subsided, leaving Laura feeling anxious and exposed.
“Laura??” Gambit’s voice was sharp, touching her arm gently before Laura snatched his hand in an iron grip, claws in front of his eyes.
Gambit held his hands up in defense. “Just try'na reach ya. No need to bring out the claws.” He muttered, brushing it off with a teasing tone, although the concern was evident on his face.
Laura faltered. She retracted her claws and sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m going back inside.”
Gambit clicked his tongue. “Or we could talk.” He said, crossing into rare territory.
Laura tensed up. “I don’t want to talk.”
“I think you should.”
Laura looked at him. Annoyance and contempt were written on her face, yet the red-eyed devil remained unmoved. An eyebrow raised, pushing her further. Laura’s expression cracked ever so slightly.
“Stop looking at me like that.” She muttered uncomfortably.
“Like what?” Gambit pushed, confused yet intrigued.
“Like you care about me. Like I matter. Like I’m not some lab-grown tool used…” Laura’s voice dropped, “used as a weapon…” She finished softly.
It shouldn’t hurt. She should be used to her reality, and yet she could never fully understand it. Her childhood was stolen, and she’d never get it back…hell, she shouldn’t even exist.
Gambit clicked his tongue gently. “Listen, petite, I wish I had an answer for ya…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But considerin’ my own track record, you needn’t worry ‘bout them.” He said, a gentle hand resting on her shoulder, “We trust you, Laura, and we care for ya. You’ve got a family here. Whether you wanna see it or not.”
Laura refused to meet his gaze. Her last family died, and classmates and teammates died consistently. How long until this family met the same fate?
“Yeah. Sure.” Laura mumbled, disbelieving.
Gambit’s mouth formed a thin line with a sigh. “Yeah. Sure.” He muttered in response. “Come on, let’s grab you a snack.” He said, wrapping his arm around her and leading her back to the mansion.
Laura plopped into a seat, resting her chin in her hand as she kicked her feet, glancing around uninterested. Gambit looked around the pantries, finding not much, considering it was nearing the end of their two weeks. Scott would have to go to Costco to restock. Oh, how excited he’ll be about that. Gambit wrote a few products on the communal shopping list in a mix of messy cursive print before grabbing the last two pop-tarts out of the box.
“You forgot to take out the empty box,” Laura commented.
“Right.” Gambit noted, taking the empty box from the cabinet before tossing it in the recycling.
“Toasted or untoasted? Very impor'ant question.”
“Not sure.” Laura shrugged, “Never had them.”
Gambit feigned being shot through the heart. “Oh, mah heart,” he said, leaning onto the island to support himself dramatically.
Laura rolled her eyes despite the smile tugging at her lips. He was amusing.
“Alright, we’ll do half and half.” Gambit decided, popping two pop tarts into the toaster.
Laura never liked the toaster. Despite her keen sense of smell, the godforsaken machine snuck up on her anytime with a high-pitched ding that ran through her adamantium bones. She observed it, the knob clicking intensely.
“It ain’t gonna bite ya, you can relax,” Gambit reassured, setting a kettle on the stove before lighting it.
“It might,” Laura muttered.
Gambit huffed, “Yeah. It might.” He agreed, amused.
Time passed, and the pop tarts were done, popping out with that little ding Laura hated. The water boiled, and Gambit poured the water into two mugs with chamomile tea before taking the pop tarts out and placing them on a plate.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch hot, hot, hot,” Gambit hissed, dropping them on the paper plate.
“Genius move,” Laura commented dryly.
Gambit just gave her a mocking look before pushing the tea and plate towards her with a slight eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, here try your pop tarts.” He muttered, rubbing the pads of his fingers.
Laura sighed and bit into one of the cold pop tarts with a shrug. “Tastes like pastry and preservatives.”
“Yeah, yeah, das the point. Here.” Gambit said, shoving the toasted one towards her before taking a bite from his. Brown sugar. Classic.
Laura took a bite and shrugged. “Tastes the same but warmer.”
Gambit sighed, “You don’t appreciate good things.” He mumbled.
“No. I don’t. We were just talking about that earlier.” Laura commented.
Gambit gave her a look before sighing. “Yeah, no. It was sarcasm, petite.” He said with a small smile.
“Oh. Right.” Laura said.
The two finished their tea and ate their pop tarts in comfortable silence. Laura discovered dipping the treat in her tea, enjoying the tea soaking into the warm cookie-like pastry.
“Seems like someone’s likin' it.” Gambit commented with a small smile, letting Laura take his as well.
“Better when it’s not so dry. Feels like sandpaper going down.” She explained, quickly devouring the leftovers before washing them down with the tea.
Gambit chuckled, “Nice job.”
Gambit tossed out the plates, fighting back a yawn as he poured the extra water in a random spray bottle to be used on the plants later on. Laura noticed, brows furrowed before standing up to push him out of the way.
“Go to bed. I’ll finish,” she said, wiping down the crumbs left behind.
“Hey, quit that,” Gambit said, shooing her off slightly, “I’m an adult, I’ll clean it up.” He fussed.
“So am I, and you’re exhausted. It’s late. I won’t be able to sleep, but you might be able to get a few hours.” Laura shrugged. “Go, " she said, a silent and unspoken ‘thank you’ hidden somewhere among the words.
Gambit let out a resigned sigh, “Are ya sure?” He asked.
“I’ll be fine. I’m not about to go chopping off my hands or slicing through my muscles. Besides, it’d just heal anyway.”
Gambit frowned. “Das not funny. I’m serious, Laura.” He muttered, brows furrowed as he scanned her features for any semblance of a facade. “I trust ya, and I want to make sure you don’t do nothin’ stupid.” He said.
“I know. It was a joke. I can joke, can’t I?” She asked.
“Not ‘bout that.” Gambit clicked his tongue.
“Alright, alright, sorry, tough crowd.” She shrugged, tossing the tea bags in the trash.
Gambit let out a sigh. Despite the worry, jokes were a good sign to him. “Night, petite.” He commented, kissing her forehead softly before heading back upstairs.
Laura watched Gambit head upstairs and sighed, feeling the loneliness of the kitchen slowly eat away at her. That fiery itch returned, and Laura’s tendons twitched in desire. She followed him up, taking a turn to her own room before pausing in front of the door and waiting to see if the feeling subsided. It did not. Instead, Laura found herself walking towards Gambit’s room. She carefully opened the door, noticing his sprawled-out body hanging haphazardly off his bed. He was out. Laura was careful as she watched her steps on the creaky floorboards before settling down on the floor. Her back was against the bed, head hanging back. She enjoyed Gambit's presence; it comforted her and eased her mind.
Since Paris, it wasn’t uncommon for Laura to sleep in Gambit’s room and vice versa. Few people knew about Laura’s addiction, and Gambit was the one she trusted the most. He was one of the only people ever to see her and treat her like a kid. While Laura initially struggled with the idea, it was a nice change from her usual life of weapon first, kid second.
Laura sighed, her head hung back, examining the popcorn ceiling above as she listened to Gambit’s atrocious snoring that oddly brought her comfort. It let her know she wasn’t alone. There was someone there with her, someone she trusted. Someone she had no genetic relation to. It was nice. Gambit was right, and Laura was slowly coming to terms with that. Gambit being right…how annoying.
“Night, Gambit,” Laura said softly, closing her eyes.