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It was going well. It was going great, actually. He'd gotten through security absolutely unseen, grabbed that pretty little jewel, and almost got out.
Until the night guard had decided that he needed another coffee, and Remy had thrown himself against a wall to stay out of his sight. That was fine, too. A master thief is supposed to be a master of improvisation— a guard's erratic caffeine runs were hardly a real difficulty.
Except, he hadn't exactly planned for a fucking goose showing up, biting at his thigh and honking loudly.
What the fuck?
The guard turned, but the loud rumbling noise of the coffee maker mostly covered up the chaos. He looked around, standing there with a dumbfounded expression usually only found in people who'd slept less than 4 hours last night and were eager to correct that mistake. Remy took the opportunity and took off running in the other direction.
He made it about 6 steps before the goose bit him again, catching up to him in an angry fluttering of wings. Only a few years of training stop him from letting out what definitely would have been an embarrassing yelp.
Then, the animal hit him with his wings. He dodged a new pinch of the treacherous beak, but not the one after. This time, he definitely made some noise— but that doesn't matter much, because the damn thing honked again. Shit.
He could hear the clinking of the guard's keys as he rounded the corners. No time.
Gambit hadn't exactly planned to end this evening by jumping out of a second story window and landing on a bush. Wasn't the worst thing he'd ever ended up in, mind you, but he had still planned a smoother escape. Letting his head fall back, out of the way of the branch currently scratching his cheek, he rested his head on the leaves for a moment.
At least the damn thing hadn't followed him out. He took a second to reflect on that— what the hell was a goose doing inside a museum? Had it wandered in from the park a few streets over? The security wasn't exactly high, but a fucking bird still shouldn't have been able to get in. Besides, he'd seen some swans in the lake, but no geese.
Which left two other options: the world’s shittiest office pet, or soulmates.
It wasn't exactly understood, per se. But sometimes, there was a link, a thread of fate binding two people together so tightly that destiny itself just had to push them together. And because the universe's a bitch with a twisted sense of humor, the way it did that was to send two geese to mercilessly bite you, until you wound up in your lover's arms out of sheer desperation to escape the little fucks.
Or at least, that's the way he understood it. It was more of a folk tale than a real scientifically proven thing. After all, soulmates were already pretty rare, and trying to catch two furious geese who did not want to be led astray from their god given mission usually resulted in a few broken bones for the poor scientists who'd tried it.
That guard's probably about to be annoyed into finding the love of his life, he snickered. It might even give him an explanation as to why he didn't catch the thief. Honestly, all things considered, maybe things had worked out in his favor, Remy mused as he got up, brushing off a stray leaf from his coat.
He almost made it to the end of the yard before hearing the dreadful thing hiss again.
Honestly, he didn't want to look. If he didn't, if he ran, he could maybe half convince himself that this whole thing had been a bad nightmare.Except the reddening marks on his thighs were making a pretty compelling argument as to why, exactly, ignoring it would be a shit idea.
He turned.
The goose was here, staring at him as innocently as a goose can, which is not a lot.
He took a step towards the gate.
The goose hopped forward.
"No."
It stared at him, visibly unimpressed.
"Non.”
The goose apparently did not speak French either.
“Nononononono. Shit."
He slowly backed up 3 steps. This time, it reacted, wings flapping and head bobbing up and down.
"C'mon, turn around. I can't have a soulmate. Your target's over there."
He tried pointing towards the east wing of the museum, where the guard was still trying to find the source of the noise (and probably questioning his sanity). The goose hissed again.
Fuck.
-o-
He stumbled into a hotel room, exhausted, under the envious look of the front desk clerk. Something in him wanted to turn back and scream "I've got more bites than muscles on my legs, this ain't a fucking love story!"
Except he wasn't supposed to draw attention to himself— which was a hell of a lot harder to do with a goose chasing you. So, he simply opened the door to let the goose in like it was a proper guest (Mattie raised him right, thank you very much).
At least, the goose seemed to agree that rest was a good idea. It had honked to nine hells and back and pinched, grabbed and twisted at his skin when he tried to head down south to the rendezvous point. Apparently, his soulmate wasn't that way. Not from Louisiana, then, he frowned. But he was bone deep tired, and he definitely couldn't take on whatever journey the damn goose wanted to go on while his ankles were still bleeding.
So, in its apparently very relative mercy, the goose had allowed him this quick rest. He did get a bit worried when it hopped onto the bed, but all it did was pull at the pillows until they wound up on the floor, where it settled nicely.
Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number by heart.
"Henri? Can't make it to the rendezvous. You're gon' have to come up there."
"Why? Y'didn't get hurt, did you?"
"It was a basic mission, Henri." He barely refrained from rolling his eyes, though his brother couldn’t see him. He really didn’t want to explain more about it. "I could've done it with my eyes closed. Of course I'm fine."
"Really?" The voice sounded skeptical over the speakerphone, his brother well aware of his tendency to lie.
"Yeah. Didn't get a scratch, everything went well. It's something else."
"Mind tellin' me what that is?"
"You'll see when you get here."
"Is it something I can make fun of you for later?"
The goose —Couyon, he'd mentally named it— honked weakly in the background.
"Yes."
"I'll be here in five hours, den. Get some shuteye in the meantime, y'sound like hell."
-o-
It should have been a nice breakfast. It might have been, too, if there wasn't a goose standing between them and the coffee maker.
When Rogue stumbled into the kitchen, Logan right behind her, a crowd was already forming, staring down at the animal. It stood there, still enough that a voice to her right wondered if this was a prank— or a student who lost control. At least, until Rogue pushed through, determined to get to her daily dose of caffeine.
Immediately, it snapped and huffed, spreading its wings slightly as if to appear larger. A whisper spread amongst the crowd, but she paid it no mind— after all, a perk of invincibility is that you're a lot less afraid of wild animals in the kitchen. Before she could even reach the cabinet, the goose charged.
Ouch?
Okay, so apparently, invincibility did not cover goose bites. Woulda been nice to know that before, she thought. She got about a second of pain and mild annoyance before her mind caught up.
A goose. In their kitchen. Where gooses normally do not reside. A goose in a place where it's not supposed to be. A goose who was charging at her. She didn't need to hear Jubilee whisper "soulmate" to know what it meant.
Panicked, she tried getting away, kicking at its wings— the goose retaliated, headbutting her calf before biting her once more. Hands grabbed at her covered shoulders, stilling her for a moment and drawing her away from the visibly angry animal.
"She's here for you," she blurted out.
"It's not me she's biting, darling." Logan's voice sounded gentle, even as he was trying to pry the damn thing from her leg.
"No, Ah don't have a soulmate. She's here for someone else."
"Really? Because she seems quite fond of you." Emma's voice was dripping with irony.
"She's got it wrong. Ah can't— Ah don't have a soulmate."
"I fear our avian friends rarely make mistakes, Rogue," Hank chuckled.
The goose honked again, as if trying to prove him right.
No.
A soulmate. Someone destined to love her by the universe itself. Someone she, ostensibly, could very much not fucking touch. What poor bastard deserved that fate? She could make a thousand arguments for why, exactly, a soulmate would be a terrible fucking thing.
She was Rogue, for fuck's sake. The untouchable girl, the one with the poisonous skin. She wasn't exactly the kind of princess who got happy endings with soulmates and little birds. That was the stuff of the stories she read about— read, because there was no way in hell they'd ever come true. Not for her, at least.
But sparing one look at the aggressive goose on her legs, she could tell that the universe must be laughing really hard at her rebuttal, right now.
Shit.
-o-
By some kind of logical kindness, the goose had woken Remy up, but left him enough time to quickly bandage the wounds, standing surprisingly calm as he applied some numbing cream on the worst areas.
Maybe he could even push it and get breakfast? As soon as the thought had left his brain, the animal started nipping at his ankle again.
“Okay, okay! Jesus.”
Before he even made it out of the bedroom, a loud banging on the door startled him. He grabbed his cards and staff, ready to defend himself, before Henri’s voice came through, loud and clear.
“Remy! You okay in dere?”
He crossed the room and opened the door before his brother could worry more, pulling it just enough so that he could see his face, keeping the animal hidden behind his legs— which wasn’t all that difficult, given that it seemed to have developed a cannibalistic fascination for biting his thighs.
His brother looked relieved to see Remy alright, then curious about what the mysterious delay was. Remy sighed.
“Before I let you in, you have to promise I won’t have to hear any of yo’ stupid jokes about dis.”
“I would never—”
“Yeah, right.”
He pushed the door open. Henri’s eyes landed on the goose. A beat, one that made Remy possibly more worried. Then, a gleeful smile immediately crossed his face.
“Soooooo….”
“Not. One. Word.”
“How’d dis happen?”
“During the mission. Damn thing almost made everything go sideways.”
Henri stifled a laugh at that, and he tried his best to send him a death glare. Which, apparently, are much less efficient when you cross your arms like a toddler while a bird is pulling at your legs.
“I’m guessing it wasn’t too fond of you goin’ back home?”
“Nope. Ain't got no clue where my soulmate is, but it ain’t Louisiana.”
Henri only hummed in answer, observing the animal as it beat his wings on the side of his shoes. Remy’s patience while serving as a farm animal’s training dummy quickly ran out, and before long he was getting up, gathering his coat and heading out the door.
“So, what do we do?” He asked as he finished putting on his gear.
“Jus'...drive you to the airport, I guess? It'll start honking if we go in the wrong direction, non?”
“Excuse me? The airport? We gon’ listen to a goose who’s telling me to get on a plane?”
“You got’ any better ideas?”
-o-
He did not. After a memorably chaotic car ride where Remy was roughly reminded that his brother had learned to drive on dirtback roads, they finally arrived at their destination. They made it about 7 minutes in the airport before being quietly called over by security. So much for discretion.
“Soulmate?” the employee sighed, pulling out a form.
“How did y’all kn—”
“Sir.” He gave them a pointed look, staring at his face, at the goose who had now resorted to pulling at his pants, then back to his face.
“Right.”
“I understand you’re probably not in a mood to file paperwork, but I guarantee you, we will make this as quick as possible.”
“It better be, because— Putain! Fils de—” he swore as the goose decided to bite down on his calf again, herding him towards one of the terminals. “Because dat one ain’t got no patience.”
Remy would really, really like to say that the sight of him busily filing out the three page form while dodging an angry goose was anything other than ridiculous.
As it stood, Henri’s booming laughter quickly dispelled any of that hope. Standing behind the glass, his brother— the traitor— had let him be led into one of the side rooms they’d normally use for screenings. He had opted to stand outside, leaving Remy to fend for himself. The employee had tried to help him for a few minutes, before promptly deciding that he was not paid nearly enough to deal with this, and leaving to stand with his brother.
As soon as Remy’s fake name, identity and signature were all neatly filled in the paperwork, the employee led them to a staff corridor, letting the goose chase him into the right direction while they calmly walked behind, waiting for him to be beaten into finding the right terminal. And maybe this thing had a goddamn psychic power, Remy thought, because as soon as he stepped into the corridor, the animal started gleefully chasing him with a violence normally reserved for predator animals or sports fans after their team lost. It flapped its wings slightly to reach up to his back, biting his neck, hair and shoulders while hitting him with any available limb. When he made the mistake of hesitating in front of a random door, the goose swiftly punished him, reaching around to try and nip at his face as a blond stewardess passing through the corridor gave him an amused smile. Finally, after what must have hours of running ( about 12 minutes), it started pulling wildly towards an opening. Above, in bold letters, stood the words “Gate 3B”.
By some kind of merciful grace, they were allowed to board first, without too much hassle or anyone getting a good look at their passport. For the first time in his life, Remy skipped any questions about his eyes— he almost felt grateful for it, until a painful pinch reminded him of why, exactly, he was allowed this leniency.
It’s not until they’d sat down, trying their best to strap the wild animal into seatbelts provided that he remembered to ask where they’re going. New York, if the tourism flyer on Henri’s tray was to be trusted.
As soon as the plane soared in the air, the goose mostly settled down, apart from the occasional nip or hiss. One of the employees quickly stopped by to hand them each a glass of champagne, and a small cup of water filled with ice cubes for their friend. Remy was almost tempted to answer with a flirty quip, until the goose honked again, reminding him that would be a terrible fucking idea. Best to save my good lines for my soulmate, he reasoned.
For the first time, he allowed himself to breathe and think about her— for real, this time. What is she going to be like? What does she like, where does she live? I hope she won’t mind the eyes.
Or that I’m a mutant.
Or the fact that I’m a thief.
Jesus, there were a lot of things he hoped she wouldn’t mind.
That led way to another line of thought, one that sounded something like what if it doesn’t work out, what if she hates me, what if this stupid bird made a mistake, what if she resents being shoved with me by some fuckin’ higher being—
As if guessing his thoughts, Henri reached over to slap the back of his head.
“Stop overthinking this.”
“I wasn’t—”
One good look from his brother was enough to shut him up. Instead of answering, he grabbed his glass, choosing to drown his doubts in the wine provided.
The trip was nice, at least. They were comfortably seated in first class, a free upgrade that might have as much to do with their steward’s empathy as with the fact there was a wild animal very eager to bite down anyone who it interpreted as being an obstacle, and it was logistically better to have the extra leg room to battle with it. It’s only once the attendants were all back to their cabin and out of earshot that Henri leaned in, whispering like a secret.
“We skipped TSA! Didn’t even have to figure out how to hide my lockpics. This is amazing.”
“Speak for yo’self! I got locked in a room with dis beast here trying to kill me.”
“I’m going to start bringing a goose everywhere,” his brother answered, thoroughly ignoring him. “Imagine the amount of places we could get into! Jus’ have to say ‘sorry, soulmate’ and no one is going to bat an eye. It's genius.”
“Henri,” Remy asked, incredulous. “Did you forget the part where it's a wild animal we're talking about ? One that will probably run the fuck away as soon as it can. That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard.”
“You're just not thinking outside of the box.”
“Right now, I'm thinking my legs fucking hurt, Henri.”
“I don't need the goose to stay for the whole mission, just for a lil’ bit. Like a diversion !”
“Hol’ up, Ii wasn't allowed to go on missions for years when I couldn't control my powers, but you'd take a goose?”
“Well yeah, it's less of a liability.”
“Henri, I will rip your mustache off.”
“You’re welcome to try, but right now, I think your birdy has a better chance of success than you do.”
“Don't tempt me.”
“Oh, go ahead. I’ll wipe the floor with you just like when we were kids, chaoui.”
-o-
Sometimes, Scott liked to torture the team by making them do danger room drills at 7am, and Rogue used to swear there was nothing worse. Unfortunately, the goose seemed to have taken that as a challenge rather than a complaint.
It'd been a whole day of running around, the beast frustratingly leading her back and forth in circles. Hank had said it might be waiting for something, perhaps for her soulmate to get closer. Rogue was pretty confident it was just waiting for her mind to break. She'd gone to sleep half dreaming of a good old duck roast.
The next morning had started rough, with being woken up at the crack of dawn with a face full of honking goose, who had promptly decided to bite her nose when she'd tried to smother her face in her pillow. It had gotten worse, with being chased out of the building before she even had the time for a proper breakfast. And now, as Rogue ran across the lawn of the institute in a fruitless attempt to escape, it was threatening to reach new lows. It didn't take long for her light jog to turn into a healthy run, then a good sprint before finally reaching a somewhat desperate mad dash.
“Stop running! You're going to make it chase you more!” Logan screamed, trying his best to catch up to her.
“She's already chasing me!”
“Maybe it could get worse. That'd be fun to see!” Bobby cheerfully interrupted, and if this was any other time Rogue would have turned right back to teach him a lesson.
Unfortunately, there are other pressing matters to attend to— namely, a wild farm animal pressing her to find some magic bullshit prophesied man and fall in love with him. Fairly sure Ah'd rather be punching Bobby.
As she jumped over the fence to reach the road, she thought for half a second that hovering in the air was safe. The goose quickly dispelled any such notion, flapping its wings to reach her and latch onto her ankle, painfully dragging her down until she gave up and started running again. Or at least, trying her best to run again, with her motion range now severely limited by the animal attached to her. Logan— bless his soul— tried his best to help her, holding the animal in an armlock that rivaled some of the best WWE moves she’d seen— except, far less efficient on a goose.
After an already exhausting run, as they almost came out of the woods surrounding the mansion and the city came into view, she thanked God and Carol for her reinforced stamina. How the hell were normal humans supposed to catch up? Does the goose adapt to your pace? How does this thing even wor—
“Fuck!”
Apparently, she had hesitated for too long, and the animal had decided to make her pay. Logan grabbed her and hoisted her upright, nose sniffing the air as if he was readying himself to go on a hunt.
“Looks like we’re going towards the airport. Your soulmate might be flying in,” he remarked, apparently unbothered by the pace they’d set.
“With a goose?! No one’s crazy enough for that.”
“Hold it for a sec, darling, there’s something…”
Rogue didn’t hold it for a second— in fact, probably not even for half a second, given her predicament. She stumbled around the angry mess of wings and neck still biting her, and took off again. If she was less distracted, maybe she would have realized something was wrong, maybe she would have noticed the glaring trap she was gleefully running into.
She heard Logan’s shouted warning a second too late, at the same time as she heard the metallic noise of his claws unsheathing, but didn’t falter. Hard to, when the animal was still pushing forward with all its might.
She was stopped by a sudden movement, colliding with what must be the person she least wanted to see right now. Blond, dirty hair and a sharp, toothy smile grinned up at her.
Sabertooth. Because of course, her day just had to get worse.
“Creed,” Logan snarled. “We don’t have time for your bullshit today.”
“Really? ‘Cause you’re the one who came running into me, runt. Didn’t even have to chase you down this time.”
The goose ran towards him, and Rogue had what was possibly the most disconcerting thought of her life: please, don't let Sabertooth be my fucking soulmate.
Thankfully, it didn't stop — simply tried to run past his feet, with all the subtlety of a thief in a neon bodysuit.
“Aww, look at that. You brought me a snack? How nice.”
“No!”
Can she come back if she's killed? Does that mean Ah’ll never find my soulmate? Could it hurt my soulmate?
That last thought had her flying.
“Leave her alone, y’a nasty piece of—”
Before her fist could connect, Logan took the opportunity to run up, stabbing at Sabertooth’s gut— he answered in kind, harsh blows and claws raining down on the Canadian. The two went at it with their usual rage, trading hits like excited 8 years old trade pokemon cards.
She tried to help, going up into the air to grab Creed by the collar and chuck him into the nearest tree. He left quite the indentation, something she was sure Logan would have been proud of if he wasn't busy charging into him once again.
Creed dived, only avoiding the hit by a few inches, and rolled to get back to his feet— crushing the goose with his body in the process. The animal let out a bloodcurling scream, sounding like an odd mix of a hyena choking and a kazoo on crack, strong enough to startle the feral mutant— which gave it just enough space to escape. Either it had some kind of magic protection, or Sabertooth was surprisingly lightweight, or geese were just resilient like that. How resilient is a goose supposed to be ? Whatever the case may be, it continued its course, ignoring the two men brawling next to it.
Then, something unexpected happened. At least, more unexpected than a goose showing up to lead you to your soulmate, which one had to admit was already a certain amount of unexpected.
A glowing, pink playing card landed on Sabertooth’s back, where he was still locked in a hold with Logan.
Before any of them had the time to wonder who chucked what could have been a Claire's accessory through the forest, the damn thing exploded.
Creed bore the brunt of the hit, the blow tearing through muscles and bones; Logan, from where he’d been trying to pin him down, had been relatively shielded, but still got the wind knocked out of him.
Turning towards the source of the projectile, Rogue braced herself. She ripped off half of the tree trunk Sabertooh had landed against, and threw it in vaguely the right direction, forcing the new assailant out of hiding.
Two men seemed to tear themselves from the shadow, both wearing long trenchcoats and each holding a metallic staff. The broader one, a bald man with a frankly impressive mustache, nodded to the second, then rushed towards the two feral mutants. With a sharp hit of his staff right in the sternum, he pushed Creed to the side, making the blond man groan— then helped Wolverine to his feets, brows furrowing when he noticed the wounds already knitting themselves back together. As soon as they were up, the other man stepped forward, springing a deck of cards in a shuffle that would make a Vegas dealer jealous. The cards began to glow pink, and he took aim; whether that was help or not, she was still not sure.
Then another card cut through the air, this time landing straight into Sabertooth’s torso, and producing an explosion that rivaled most 4th of July shows, with a tad more gore and guts. Help it is then.
As soon as the glow receded, Logan approached and stabbed him again, for good measure and maybe a tiny bit of personal enjoyment.
“Just to make sure he stays down for a while”, he muttered.
She turned towards the nearest of the two, the card dealer, who now seemed mostly relaxed, leaning against the oak he’d been hiding behind.
“Sorry about the tree, sug’, Ah didn’t mean t—”
She stopped. She stopped, because the goose who had made the last 16 hours of her life hell had stopped fighting, choosing instead to run at the feet of one of their mysterious helpers, where another goose was waiting.
Soulmate. She took a good, hard look at the stunning man in front of her.
Her brain short circuited. Is he—no. No way. The stranger had a thin, sculpted face, which looked like it could be the very definition of the word handsome. Between the charming smile and his seemingly relaxed posture, he seemed confident and yet something in his movements betrayed a fighter's reflexes. The grin he sported made him look something like a scoundrel, the kind her mamas used to warn about, and she definitely shouldn’t be finding it that attractive. On top of his head, his brown hair laid arranged in a carefully crafted mess, just inviting enough that she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.
It took him a few seconds, but he must have come to the same conclusion, looking at the two birds quietly huddling together in front of him. His collected expression faltered, leaving way to a genuine smile, and his eyes widened— and that's when she noticed it.
Red on black eyes, glowing like a promise and a threat all at once, sending a shiver down her spine in the best and worst ways.
“Your eyes!” She gasped out loud— and she probably shouldn't have, she knew, because as soon as the words left her mouth he frowned, taking a step back and lowering his head as if to hide them. She pointed at the white streak atop her own head, hurryingly adding “You’re— you're a mutant too.”
He raised an eyebrow, nodded, and must have heard something in her voice, because it was his turn to remark.
“Why, yes I am. And you’re from the south too.”
She nodded, words too caught up in her throat to form a reply.
“Thank god, I was worried I’d wind up with a northerner,” the very beautiful man joked.
She tried to focus on the voice— that deep beautiful voice— focus! The accent, thick and heavy on his tongue, reminded her of a childhood trip to New Orleans with Irene.
“Louisiana?”
“Cajun, born an’ bred,” he smiled. “You?”
“Mississippi, Caldecott county.”
“Rare t’find a southern belle this side of the Delta.”
“Rarer to find a Cajun boy out there. What brought you so far here, sugah?”
He smiled at the endearment, then nodded towards the cuddling animals.
“All the way from Louisiana?” She winced. She’s only had the goose chase her for less than a day, and her legs were already screaming somethin’ fierce. The poor bastard must have gotten torn to shreds.
“Was already halfway. We hopped on a plane at dis one’s command,” he answered, kneeling down to nudge the mostly calm beasts.
Logan gave her the look of “I-told-you-so”, which she pointedly ignored, in favor of crouching next to him.
The geese looked…Well. If you forgot about the wild honking and the bites still littering her thighs, they could almost be cute. Lovebirds, like slightly less classy and more murderous swans.
“Ah'm glad they're calmed down now,” she sighed. “Don't get me wrong, Ah'm happy you're here, but Ah could have done without the pinching an’ battering.”
“Ah, but we found each other, chère. Maybe the bitin’ was worth it, non?”
Before she could answer, her blush already betraying her words, Sabertooth made a noise. Something pathetic, between a wine and begging for morphine.
“May I?”
“Knock yourself out, sug.”
Her soulmate smiled, drawing the cards in another creative shuffle, before sending a 3 of clubs straight to his face. Adverting her eyes almost a second too late, she saw bright pink— maybe magenta? Logan joined them, hoisting Creed onto his back and gesturing to the bald mustache man to follow him. He gave them one last look, giving the man next to her a two fingered salute, leaving the two newly found soulmates alone.
She turned towards him only to find him stroking her goose's head like a cat's. Surprisingly, it did not seem to mind. When she raised her head again, his eyes were on her, glowing with a feeling she didn’t dare to name. He smiled, making something low and warm curls up in her spine.
“Name's Gambit, chère. But you can call me Remy Lebeau.”
“Ah'm Rogue. Uh, Anna Marie.” The name still felt awkward and clunky in her mouth— but she figured her soulmate should probably get her real name.
“Anna Marie,” he repeated, rolling the name on his tongue as if savouring it. “Pleasure to meet you, chère.”
He extended his hand, reaching for hers with an easy smile. Instinctively, she balled up her fists at her side, trying her best not to notice the way his eyebrows furrowed.
“You best keep that hand to yourself, sug. If you touch my skin, Ah’ll absorb you, your memories and your powers.” Despite her gloves, it was probably smarter not to get too familiar.
“Dat’s your power? Can't control it?”
“It is, and Ah can't. You’d drop down on the ground and wake up a week later.”
There it was. The moment she dreaded. The moment where she has to explain, and watch her soulmate turn back on his heels, and learn how to live with that. She took a deep breath, rushing to explain more.
“Ah’ve been tryin’ to control it for years— ain’t had much progress, but we’re still trying. Ah'm sorry if it ain't what you expected, sugah.”
“Well, I've never minded a challenge,” he shrugged, leaning back against the oak with an appreciative smirk.
“What?”
He must have heard her dumbfoundment, because he frowned
“‘Course, not if you don't want to, chère. Gambit don't go where he's not invited. If you don't want none of this soulmate business, just say the words and I'll go back to—”
“No!”
He smiled at her outburst, and she could have sworn she felt her ears turn pink.
“Uhm, no. Ah don't mind if you stay, Remy.” His smile turned beaming when she said his name. “Ah think Ah'd like that, actually.”
“‘Think I would like it too, chère,” he whispered, holding her gaze as he helped her to her feet. Suddenly, she understood a whole lot better what her romance novels meant by ‘butterflies in the stomach’.
Of course, they had to be interrupted. Of fucking course. At least this time, it was the screeching tires of Logan's jeep and not a crazy killer mutant, but still. It was the principle.
“We dropped Sabertooth off at the mansion,” he explained in what would more accurately be described as a growl than real speech.
“It's a very nice mansion,” the bald man grinned from the front seat, and she saw Remy smirk in a way that made her sure she was missing something.
“You wanna…”
“The mansion’s your home, chère?”
She nodded, trying to muster up the tiniest bit of courage.
“Then sure.”
“There's a lot of people there. Uhm, not a lot of privacy.” God, why did that man make her stammer like a damn teenager ? “But uh, Ah know a good restaurant. Maybe we could— Ah mean, if you want—”
He took her gloved hand in his own, slotting against each other like it was never meant to be any different.
“Den it’s a date, chère.”