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Rogue, although completely calm externally, is quite good at worrying. She can’t let everything that happens get to her for the good of everyone around her. She’s learned to pick her battles carefully, in that sense. Learning not to feel worry or fear over everything is one of the most mentally strenuous things she has ever done, but something she finds quite a bit of pride in now.
And yet she can’t stop herself from worrying over her husband. When Gambit doesn’t get up, well past his usual time, she starts to feel unnerved. Her coffee cup sits untouched next to the one she poured for him, expecting him to have gotten up after her. She’s been staring at their bedroom door, waiting for it to open.
She finally gives up on waiting after two hours, her phone buzzing with messages from the work she is currently avoiding. She eyes some of them over: Kitty asking where she is, Kitty asking why she isn’t here, Kitty asking if she’s fine - okay, most of them are from Kitty, apparently. She needs to find a boss that is less worried about her well being and current location.
Rogue sighs, putting her phone back down. Kitty will have to forgive her for skipping out on her responsibilities for the day.
She decides that if he isn’t going to come to her, then she might as well go to him. Rogue eyes the clock once more, sighing as she gets up from the table and makes her way to their room. She pushes the bedroom door open slowly and walks inside, taking tentative steps towards the bed.
When he hears her approach, he (thankfully) turns around to stare at the door, and her tentative walking stops entirely and she visibly relaxes. Gambit tries not to wince.
“Coffee’s gone cold,” She tells him, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Been waitin’ for you forever,”
“‘m sorry chère,” He says truthfully, offering a guilty smile. “Was too lazy to get up.”
Rogue frowns. She had chalked up her conclusions to her own irrational worrying, but clearly her anxiety wasn’t entirely wrong, because something is wrong with her husband. She would like to think that she knows her husband. While her Remy is many things -a liar, a thief, a scoundrel - he is not lazy, which means something has to be wrong.
She also knows he’s terrible at voicing his feelings. When put on the spot, has a fight or flight response better described as ‘flight or flight harder’, so she can’t just ask. She’ll need a better plan, then.
“Mind if I join ya?” she asks, lifting the covers with the whole intention of climbing under.
“It’s your bed, ma colombe. No permission needed,” He replies, turning around to face her. She crawls closer, climbing into his arms and laying against his chest, his heartbeat in her ears. Something about it is oddly calming to her in the same sense that a cat’s heartbeat is relaxing to its kittens. It is a quiet reminder that he is alive, laying next to her in this exact moment of space and time and nothing will change that.
“Got anything to do today?” she asks eventually, his hands carding through her hair in a soothing motion. He sighs quietly, almost a groan.
“Yes. A lot of things actually,” He responds with a worrying amount of honesty, laughing a little. “This is one way to avoid work, isn’t it?”
Rogue frowns again, more confused than she is upset. While he is willing to run from work, he doesn’t usually do it ‘just because’ (most of the time, he’s ignoring his responsibilities for her, actually), so something is definitely wrong with him.
“How long have you been awake?” She says, a small hum of acknowledgement to tell him she did hear the question.
He sighs, relaxing into her arms. “A while,”
“You must be hungry, then,” she offers, a chance to fake nothing is wrong disguised as an invitation for breakfast.
“Not really, no,” He replies, and she takes that to mean he doesn’t intend to ignore how he’s feeling, which is both good and bad in equal parts.
She turns around, propping herself on her elbows over the bed.
“No,” He sighs, shaking his head and turning around to face her.
“I haven’ said anything,”
“But I know you will,” he replies. “You are looking at me like you will,”
“Could you tell me what’s with you, then?” She offers. Her husband being as difficult as he always is? absolutely on her bingo card. “You’ve stayed in bed all morning. I won’t have to do any talkin’ if you start speakin’ first, husband.”
Gambit sighs. “I don’know, chère. I wouldn’t call myself blind to my own emotions, but today is just… wron’. So if you got any theories, I’d be more dan happy to hear them,”
Rogue hums in acknowledgment, seemingly thinking about it for a moment. Eventually, she pulls closer to him, propping herself on her elbow to get a better look at him.
“I do,” she says, her hand hovering over his face and finally booping his nose. “What I think is that you have been doin’ too much, sweetheart,”
He looks genuinely perplexed. “Dere’s never too much for me, chère,”
“Oh no, there is.” She lays down next to him, maybe a little bit amused. “Even you have a limit,”
“I’ve done not much more than my usual, Rogue.” He sits up, noticing the fact that Lucifer has made his way onto the bed and is demanding his attention.
“I don’t think so,” she argues, pulling closer and petting the cat as well. “You’ve been quite busy lately, you’re bound to wear yourself out after a while.”
Gambit seems to think about it for a moment. He has been running around a lot, and while he has always been seemingly torn between his responsibility with the guild and the X-men, he has felt more like he needs to be in two places at once as of late. Now that he’s sitting up, he realizes that what he had chalked up to simply not wanting to move out of bed feels more like actual tiredness than vague sleepiness.
“You’ve strung yourself out from doin’ too much, that’s what I think.” Rogue interrupts his thoughts, leaning on his shoulder. “And now you’re running on empty and somehow expecting that to work,”
He hums in acknowledgement, leaning to the side and laying his head against hers while holding the cat that has officially made himself at home on Gambit’s lap.
“What does ‘doctor LeBeau’ recommend I do to fix myself, den?” He says eventually, the amusement clear in his voice. He’s proud of his little joke.
“Well, a kiss from your wife wouldn’t hurt,” She offers back, pulling his face softly and pressing their foreheads together.
He smiles, but still acts as though he’s considering his options before actually answering. “I like dat idea.”
Rogue takes that as permission to close the distance between them, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. It is quick, something that could barely even be considered a peck, but there’s an unspoken intensity in it. Almost a reminder.
‘I’m still here, no matter how you feel.’
A very welcome, much needed reminder.
“I’m unsure the treatment will be effective in such a small dose, doctor,” he jokes, and while Rogue has her eyes closed, she knows the stupid smirk that’s plastered on his face.
She chuckles. “Was just making sure you adjust to the medicine,” she replies, one of her hands finding the way to the hair on the back of his neck. “Wouldn’ want ya to die, would we?”
Gambit hums. “Of all de ways to die, chère? A kiss of yours would probably be my favorite.”
Rogue actually laughs, rolling her eyes. “Ever the flatterer, aren't ya?”
Gambit shrugs. “Call it one of the many talents of Gambit,”
She pulls him in for another kiss, much more intense and yet still full of love. He reciprocates, his hands finding purchase on her shoulders. The feeling of her lips against his makes him feel less like his mind is trying to float away from him, and it helps reassure him of what he already knows: she’s here, sitting next to him.
Eventually, she pulls back fully, her hands cupping his face. She takes time to study his face, noticing the deep eyebags that frame his eyes. She frowns, caressing his cheek with her thumb as if the motion could make them go away.
“You need rest, Cajun,” she states, pulling him down to rest his head on her shoulder and carding her fingers through his hair.He lets out a deep, contented sigh that he cannot be mortified about. Not with Rogue, anyway.
“Sleep sounds awfully attractive, mon coeur,” he admits leaning further into her, the hand he was using to pet Lucifer instead settling on top of him. The cat, although surprised, is not displeased.
“Well, we do have a bed,” She points out, chuckling a little bit because they are sitting on said bed and it makes her feel a bit silly.
Gambit groans. “X-Men don’t get sick days,” He replies, still unwilling to lay down.
“Well, I’m telling Kitty to start giving sick days then.” She makes him lay down, standing up and picking Lucifer off the bed, despite his protesting. “Because my husband needs sleep, and ‘m not gonna make him work like this,”
“De baby didn’t do anything, put him down,” Gambit protests, leaning back against the pillows. Rogue sighs, setting the cat back on the bed. Lucifer seems quite comfortable with this new arrangement, walking all the way up to Gambit’s head and rubbing himself up against his face.
“Cats don’t go on the pillows,” She says, amusement in her voice.
“He’s on me,” he argues, allowing the cat to lay on his chest. “‘m not a pillow, leave him,”
She laughs. “Sure. Have a good rest,” she leans over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“I feel like a bedridden child,” He huffs. Rogue laughs, walking towards the door and turning the lights off.
“Good night, Remy,” she smiles at him, closing the door behind her as she walks away.
“Good night, Rogue,” he replies eventually, sighing and staring down at the cat. “Guess it’s you and me, huh?”
Lucifer gives him a look that he can only interpret as ‘let me sleep’ and then continues resting. That’s enough of a sign that he should as well, most likely.
Some sleep doesn’t sound too bad.
* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *
When he wakes up what might be a few hours later, he wanders out of the bedroom and is met with his wife in the kitchen, watching the TV from a stool instead of the living room couch. He gives her a funny look, staring between her and the TV.
“Why?” He says eventually, just staring.
She laughs. “Good morning, Cajun. Feelin’ better?”
“Less like I’ve been dumped in water, at least,” he says, shrugging. “You didn’t answer me.”
“I was cooking, got distracted that’s all,” She explains, suddenly remembering she has something to do in the kitchen.
He sits down on the couch, absentmindedly watching the TV. “How did you convince Kitty ‘m not dead?”
Rogue laughs again. “I don’t think I did. She might have just given up after the eleventh call,”
Gambit joins her as well. “Makes sense,” he remarks. It is a very Kitty thing to do.
The laughter eventually dies down, with them falling into the comfortable silence they’ve grown accustomed to.
“Thank you,” he says eventually.
“I’ve done much worse for ya,” She replies, shrugging and walking over to him with a cup in hand.
He takes it, blowing on the coffee inside. She laughs.
“What’s so funny?” He asks, cocking a brow.
“It’s cold,” she says, sitting down next to him. “Would have bothered reheating it, but I didn’t know when ya were gonna wake up,”
Gambit takes a sip of it, realizing his wife wasn’t lying. He shakes his head incredulously, laughing as well.
“Y’know what? I think it’s perfect.”