Archive of Our Own

It was always the simplest missions that ended up creating the biggest headaches.

His Tante Mattie would say it was a warning, a test of hubris. Never let your guard down, no matter how easy something may look. The spirits were always looking for an excuse to punish unearned pride. They were welcome to throw a test of character your way if they felt you were becoming overconfident.

But Cerebro had found a couple of young, homeless, mutant teens hiding out in some abandoned warehouses on the outskirts of Albany. Ones that were set to be demolished as part of a new development project. The teens had been sneaking around the construction crews setting up, dumpster diving and stealing from unsuspecting civilians while they tried to find a new place to hide, until one of them, whose mutations couldn’t be hidden, had been noticed by the foreman. A card carrying member of the Friends of Humanity. 

Now they were on the radar of the militant terrorist group, their lives at further risk with a small army on the hunt for them. 

So, a few of them had been sent out immediately to save them. The mission parameters set before they even needed to be said.

Get in. Save the kids. Get out.

“It’ll be easy as pie,” Rogue had remarked from her seat in the Blackbird, and Remy was pretty sure that was when they got jinxed. When Rogue had tempted the gods’ wrath.

But they all still thought it would be simple at the time. 

So simple, only four of them had been sent out: Rogue, Remy, Morph and Logan. Arriving just in time to put themselves between the teens and the FOH members. And they’d already gotten to work quickly dispatching them. The others had all felt they’d be in and out of Albany in record time, but Remy’s gut told him it was a bet he’d put no money on.

“And that’s three,” Rogue announced loudly, a single punch sending a wannabee militant flying. 

“You keeping count, chére?” he asked, amused, brow raised, as one of his charged playing cards exploded, throwing a FOH wannabee back up in the air. The bastard landed comically in a large, metal trash container nearby. 

“Keeping score, sugar,” she corrected cheerfully. “Think I can hit more of 'em than you.”

“You sure about that?” Remy asked back as he watched Rogue slammed into another militant like a human battering ram, sending them flying across the construction site. A cloud of burnt red dirt and dust was thrown up around them as she sped by. 

“And here I thought you were a betting man,” she replied with a ringing laugh as she flew back to his side.

And Remy only smiled, flashing her a cocky grin. A flick of his two fingers and there was a small explosion of magenta that boomed off to his side, followed by surprised yells and curses. 

“Dat be five, chére,” he told her, smugly. 

A loud crash was heard behind the pair, off to the side and a short distance away, after which Logan bellowed out from across the site. “Eight!”

“How bout y’all leave some for the rest of us!” Rogue shouted back at them.

“We’ll try!” Morph yelled.

Remy caught sight of the three teens they were here to rescue, all cowering by some barrels nearby, trying to stay out of the way and unnoticed by the FOH. A petite blonde who looked around sixteen along with a taller, dark skinned boy who had to be the leader of their gang. The smallest of the three, who looked no older than thirteen, had leathery, green tinted skin he’d been trying to hide behind a baseball cap and hoodie, no doubt the reason they’d been inadvertently caught. Poor kids had just been trying to survive. And these militant terrorists sent a small army to kill them.

And seeing how scared they were–how young, only infuriated Remy. 

He might have spun around and added a bit more to the next cards he sent flying towards the one militiaman charging him. Just to get his anger out. 

But by the time he turned back around to check on them, he found they were now being cornered by two militants who snuck past unnoticed. Two large brutes slowly trying to pin the trio into a corner, weapons in hand. One of them threw his arm back, preparing to swing his iron pipe down on them. Remy tried to shoot off a card in time to stop him, hitting one but missing the other one as the card went wide in his panic. The one with the pipe was able to stay standing, weapon still in hand.

The militant barely gave Remy a look over, giving him a wide, cruel smile over his shoulder before he turned and swung down towards the blonde. She screamed, throwing her arms up in front of her to protect herself, and shooting out a beam of yellow light from her hands. The brute dodged, the beam of light shooting past him, instead getting hit in the chest with a large fireball by the other teen, but the beam the blonde had cast didn’t fade.

It continued on, heading directly towards Rogue, now floating in the air a distance away scanning the site. About to hit her in the back.

“Rogue, look out!” Remy yelled but it was too late. 

She didn’t even have enough time to turn and see what it was. The beam of light hit her straight on and then she was falling, cratering towards the earth with no way of stopping. Unconscious. 

“Rogue!” he yelled out, rushing forward. 

But there was no way he would get to her in time. She was falling too far, impacting hard with the reddish dirt ground, in a large hole the construction crew had dug, before Remy had a chance to close the distance between them. Her invincibility would protect her from the worst injuries, but she hadn’t been conscious when she hit and Remy knew she was now at risk of an attack she couldn’t defend herself against.

Sprinting to where Rogue had hit, he threw a few more charged up cards at the remaining FOH members, including the one who almost hit the kids and was already on the ground rolling to put his fire lit clothes out. The militants still standing had started to see the fight as a lost cause, taking off before they took on further injuries, and letting Remy focus on Rogue.

Skidding to a stop at the edge of the hole, Remy peered down, trying to spot her. 

And finding nothing but yellow and green fabric littering the reddish, clay dirt covered ground of the construction site. A pile of recognizable clothes. Rogue’s uniform. Her suit, jacket, gloves and boots were all that remained. Even her headband. Spread across the ground like they’d been dropped from a clothes line. Creating a vague human shape, but without the human who wore them.

Quickly and carefully, he slid down the side of the hole and dropped to his knees next to the pile, his heart plummeting just as quickly, his hands hovered over the shape. He didn’t know what to do. Unsure if he could even make himself touch the remains. 

Rogue had disappeared. Gone. 

It couldn't be true. She couldn't just be gone like that. 

He tried not to think about the worst case, to not let his fears get the better of him, even with the site in front of him. There was no blood anywhere. No signs of her having been possibly injured, but they didn’t know what hit her. Had no idea what the young mutant, who Morph and Logan were now trying to calm down, could do. Maybe she’d just been teleported. Maybe that was the young girl’s powers. 

She's fine. She was fine. She had to be fine. He kept repeating the mantra in an effort to stay calm.

“Rogue,” he whispered, trying to not let his fear leak through, before looking around. Yelling louder this time, desperately. “Rogue!” 

There was a shuffle. The clothes in front of him had moved. Snapping his attention back to them, still frozen in place, hands hovering over the pile as he watched as a small bump formed beneath the suit, a sort of unnatural lump in the clothes which began to snake through the suit and towards the neck-hole. Hesitantly, Remy waited for whatever it was to reveal itself. If it was a threat or not. 

A small, fur covered head slowly poked out from the neck. One with white, tent like ears and big, familiar, muddy green eyes he loved so dearly. Which now stared up at him in mute horror. A shocked expression that almost matched the one Remy had as he blinked down at them. His brain took a few seconds to realize what had happened. 

“Oh chére,” he finally said with a relieved, amused sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he tried to hold back a laugh. “What Gambit to do wit’chu you now?”

—

Apparently, the young mutant’s powers were transfiguration. Of others.

Into animals. 

It was only temporary, as the young blonde (“Lainey. Lainey Louisa O’Neill from Cambridge, Massachusetts. Please don’t hurt me. It was an accident I swear.”) had panickedly explained to them after they’d talked her down, after she’d seen what her powers had done to their friend. Terrified, still riding the high of adrenaline, she’d rapidly babbled about how everyone her powers hit would eventually revert back to normal after some time. Profusely apologizing every sentence as she did. 

The only problem was the length of said time it took for her powers to wear off. It was pretty random as she put it. And she, of course, had no control over it. Some reverted back after a few hours, others a few days. Maybe a week. One or two, however, had taken a couple months. But no one ever went longer than a year. 

Meaning, Rogue was stuck in a waiting game. As the hours quickly ticked by, while they made it back to the mansion and to Hank ‘I’m not a vet but will do what I can’ McCoy so he could begin running tests and doing a quick examination of her, there was still no change, Rogue found herself growing increasingly frustrated. She wasn’t sure if she could handle a week stuck like this, let alone a month. 

And it was not helping that everyone's response to her feline form was, besides the initial shock, either pitiful amusement or sympathy she sure as shit had not asked for. 

Or, in the case of Kurt, hysterics. Laughing his ass off level hysterics. He’d been doing so ever since Remy had revealed her small feline form to them, having carried her back to safety and then off the Blackbird when they arrived. Given that the transformation had left Rogue a little woozy and out of it. As weak as a newborn kitten, moving in her new body like a baby fawn taking its first steps. But Remy had kept her gently bundled up and on his lap the entire flight back. 

And she was certainly not going to admit that she enjoyed it. Wrapped in her coat and pressed against Remy’s solid chest. As sung as a bug. Her mind beginning to wonder what it would be like to actually feel his arms wrapped—

No! There was a time and a place, and this sure as shit wasn’t it. She was not going to think about that. Not right now. 

She was a cat right now. There were more important matters at hand than thinking about Remy’s nice arms. 

Like the fact that she was about to kill her adoptive brother. 

“Entschuldigung, my sister,” Kurt said when he saw her perturbed face, though he showed no signs of stopping, still clutching at his side. “But you are just so adorable. It’s giving me, as you Americans say, the stitches.”

Rogue was certainly going to make sure he had actual stitches if he didn’t knock it off, watching with a perturbed expression as her adoptive brother continued to laugh at her. This was just plain old insulting. Every time Kurt got close to calming down, he’d catch sight of her with his glowing yellow eyes, his face twisting again, and quickly descend back further into another round of laughs. 

“You are very cute,” Jean added, sweetly, trying to be helpful. 

Rogue could only let out a disgruntled sigh, letting her head drop back down onto her two, little, white front paws as she lay on the examination table in Hank’s lab.

A glance in the mirror and yeah sure, maybe she was rather cute as a cat. Long, soft, copper colored fur now covered her small body, except for the ears, two paws, and a patch on top of her head, which were white as snow. As if her feline form wanted to match her human one as best it could, white streaked hair and all. Hell, the patch of white between her ears was even thicker and longer than the rest, so it stuck up slightly like a small tuft. 

But she wouldn’t let the others know that. This was already mortifying enough. Being stuck like this. She wanted nothing more than to hide, to crawl under the covers and disappear. Wait out the transformation in silence. 

A soft pressure was suddenly pressed down on her back, warm and lovely. Not too hard. Just perfect. It was nice, just what she needed and the press on her nervous system seemed to calm her racing nerves. She was almost tempted to relax. To let out a low purr, before remembering she was supposed to be angry. And that she wasn’t one to be touched. 

In an instant, Rogue turned and swiped a clawed paw at the hand. At the one who had been stroking her back.

And one who quickly dodged her claws. Holding them up in surrender. 

“Sorry, chére,” he said, not at all looking apologetic. “Gambit couldn’t resist.” 

Rearing up suddenly, back arching, her brown spotted tail shooting up like a pipe cleaner as her newly given claws dug into the fabric placed over the table, she hissed fiercely at Remy. She was already in a mood. Couldn’t he recognize that and just leave her alone? To which the Cajun bit the inside of his cheek, holding back a smile.

Then she noticed Remy’s hands, ungloved and bare as he held them up in front of him. When he’d carried her back to the blackbird, he’d wrapped her in her clothes just to be safe, but now. Now he’d touched her without any protection.

And nothing had happened. 

There was a large keyboard, which Hank had set up, to allow her to communicate with them. Left on the bed for her use. Jumping up onto her feet, she moved towards it and began pressing one paw to the correct key. It took a lot of work and concentration, but she slowly got her paws to press enough. 

No powers?

After a few more tests, this time involving Rogue being essentially manhandled (i.e. hoisted into the air like Simba and almost being petted to death) until they confirmed her fur wasn’t acting as a barrier for her powers, Hank had come to his conclusion. One they all had already suspected. 

“It appears your powers may have been temporarily nullified by the transformation,” he explained.

Well, that was probably a positive, she supposed. It was already difficult enough to manage her powers day-to-day as a human, doing so as a cat would just be an additional hindrance. And stress. 

“Guess we won’t have to worry about you blowing things up with your paws,” Remy remarked, as if reading her mind. 

“We’ll make sure you are as comfortable as possible,” Hank assured. “But unfortunately, we will need to wait for this to wear off on its own. As Ms. O’Neill explained.”

Rogue sighed, giving the closest she could to a shrug of resigned understanding. She hated to admit it but there was nothing that could be done. Might as well try to make the best of this. 

And to think, Mystique would sometimes do this willingly. 

—

Much to her surprise, being stuck as a cat wasn’t too difficult.

Sure there were a few negatives. Being very small and hyper sensitive to sounds and smells for one. Her food was limited to things only cats could eat, so they could err on the side of caution. Jean, trying to be helpful, had gone out and gotten all the cat supplies she could think to get. Which turned out to be a lot of supplies. But one scowling look from Rogue as she showed the canned pet food she’d gotten had resulted in those tins being shoved far back into the cabinet. With a few jokes about Logan probably being able to use them.

Without being asked, Remy had quickly taken over cooking her meals, which had consisted mainly of cooked and unseasoned meats and vegetables. She had to still eat it from the cat bowl Jean got, but it was still infidelity better than subjecting herself to the mortification of eating kibble or wet, tinned, cat food instead.

And she was not even going to think about the litter box. Once this was over and she’d returned to normal, for the rest of her life, she would never ever ever talk about that damn litter box. 

But there were still positives. Being much smaller meant the large queen size bed she’d already had to herself now being ten times bigger (along with everything else), with a just as large, warm comforter for her to hide herself under. She was more agile, able to jump up great heights onto countertops or dressers with ease, and squeeze herself into smaller places. Reminding her of when she was little, when she’d briefly dreamed about being a gymnast. She guessed being a cat was the closest she’d get to that dream. 

She might have been on house arrest, for her own safety, but it did leave her with a good excuse to do nothing but sleep all day; lounging about in every knock, cranny and couch she could find. It was absolutely delightful to just lay on the hard floor some mornings and bask in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

She could only do it in some of the rooms, and at certain hours of the day. Once the school day started, she was at risk of being trampled on by students rushing to class, or, worse, getting cooed over by them. So, she’d typically sneak off to find one of the other X-Men and hang with them, while she waited the kids’ out. For it to be safe again to move around. 

There were a few options. She would sometimes hang out in the hanger of the Danger Room, watching Scott press his lips together in the same disgruntled annoyance before taking a deep breath and lecturing the students about blind spots they’d once again failed to notice. Other times she’d relax on the couch next to Jean, who always thanked her for keeping her company, and who Rogue learned also enjoyed reading a good romance novel once in a while. She’d even let Jean groom her with the brush whenever she was in a good mood.

She usually spent her morning watching Ororo from the kitchen island as she made her tea or observing Kurt from the window’s ledge while he practiced with his swords as the sun slowly rose over the distant trees outside. Sometimes she even hung around watching Forge and Bishop tinker in the lab, while Hank pretended he hadn’t been napping for the past hour in a chair nearby. And Morph would always put together, with Logan’s begrudging help, little, makeshift cat jungle gyms that were amusing enough to look at that Rogue would try them out once or twice just to see if they were functional. 

The others never hauled her around without asking, which she was grateful for. But then there was Remy. She may have made an exception for him. 

Ah, Remy. Remy and his lovely hands. 

She would wander around the mansion in look of her favorite cajun. Leaping onto his lap while he was lounging or climbing up to balance on his shoulders as he cooked in the kitchen, laying her body around his neck like a Rogue shaped fur shawl. Much to Remy’s amusement. But she couldn’t help it. Now that she didn’t need to cover every part of herself just so she could touch him. She couldn’t resist touching him. And he was the same. 

A stroke over the head here. A stroke down the back there. Down her neck and over her hunches, then repeated. With her tail curling around his hand at the end each time. It did something to her. Add a rub underneath the chin or over the tuft between her ears and Rogue turned to putty in his hands. Melting into his touch. Any time his hand reached out towards her, she would already be purring like a lawn mower. Whether she wanted to or not. And she didn’t really mind when he would lift her up and carry her around, grabbing her before any of the students got too handsy.

Some small part of her was mortified at how open she was being in her feline form, revealing how touch-starved she’d become after all these years, but it couldn’t be helped. It was everything she wanted. Even if it was all happening while she was stuck as a cat, just being able to feel his bare, ungloved hand, his calloused fingers, on her body was wonderful. No fabric between them. Sometimes she’d slip out just to find him like an addict seeking out a quick hit. And he always provided. As if he too couldn’t help it either. 

And, yes, maybe one night, after she’d spent a week sleeping in her oversized bed, she slipped from it, out her room and down the hall to his. Wanting to try something new. Test the waters as they say. Her Aunt Carrie had always said she liked to play with fire. 

Slipping through the crack from the door being left partially ajar, as if he knew she might try this, and into his darkened room, Rogue slowly slunk around the minefield of scattered clothes and towards the bed.

Remy had been lying on his stomach over the mattress, one arm under the pillow his head was resting on and the other in the open space next to him. His dark auburn hair was loose, splayed out around the pillow his head was resting on. The bed sheet was low, covering only the lower half of his body, but what she could see was very obviously unclothed. 

As she leapt up and onto the bed, Rogue got a clear view of the very nice, sculpted muscles in his back. The waist band of his dark briefs peeked out from beneath the blanket. And his muscles rippled as he moved suddenly, shifting in the bed after sensing a sudden and new pressure on it. A pressure that moved from the mattress and up to his legs as Rogue slowly slunk up his calf and thigh, before using his ass as a launch pad to gracelessly leap off and land next to his face. 

Remy peaked one eye open, and briefly, very briefly, Rogue lost all the courage that had helped send her here. Expecting rejection. That she’d maybe gone too far. Sure, there was a lingering attraction between the two. And they were always teasing or flirting, but Remy would get flirty with everyone. His almost unnatural, charming nature makes it hard for people to resist him. For both women and men to refuse him.

But it was different with her. One, she saw through it most of the time. Especially in the early years but after all this time, but now, after a few years of working together, she could tell it was real. His compliments were sincere and never came from a place of manipulation. He never wanted anything more from her than a smile. 

Briefly though, she wondered if she’d misread him, that she’d stepped over a line she didn’t know existed. If this had all just been some joke to him. They’d never really talked about their relationship. What they were to each other. Just kept dancing around each other, with Rogue always being the one to keep him at arm’s length. 

But this was Remy she was thinking about. She knew the truth deep down. No matter how much she denied it. Pretended her assumptions of him were right, she knew the truth of his feelings. Knew he was always being honest with her. 

And she watched as Remy simply sighed, closing his eyes again and relaxing deeper into the pillow. His free hand reached up and scratched between her ears, which Rogue leaned into, before it dropped back down over her back.

“You look like a cat dat got de cream, chére,” he whispered, half-awake but already falling back to sleep. She had never realized that his accent became thicker when he was so drowsy. 

Giving a self-satisfied purr, Rogue turned and simply tucked herself into the open space next to him. Her body pressed against his, curled right under his neck and against his arm, his hand resting protectively over her back, as she fell asleep beside him.

—

No one seemed to notice that she’d taken up sleeping in Remy’s room every night. And if they did, they didn’t dare say anything. 

And they didn’t dare mention how, as the days went on, Rogue seemed to be trailing behind wherever Remy was more than the others. When it was usually the reverse.

She couldn’t help herself today. When she wandered past the library and found him lounging on one of the sofas, reading. The soft light of the sun streaming through the nearby window had left him in a soft glow. His chin cupped in his hand as he rested his elbow on the arm of the sofa and one ankle resting over his knee as his dark eyes read the pages. No crop top today, much to Rogue’s disappointment. Instead, a muted, french blue turtle neck. 

Jumping up onto the sofa next to him, Rogue slowly strutted over to the space next to him, before tipping over and dropping down onto her side, stretching out her entire body. Her clawed paws just reached the sides of his caramel colored pants. 

Remy didn’t move his eyes from the book, but Rogue caught the small smirk that tugged at his lips. Shifting to sit up straighter, he moved the paperback from his left hand to his right. Once his left hand was free, it slowly drifted over and came to rest on her side. And he began slowly rubbing it over her side and stomach. Getting a soft, relaxed purr from her in response. Feeling them vibrate through her chest and up his hand.

“Gambit going to have to put a bell on you,” he commented. “For a cat, you quieter than a church mouse.”

Rogue relaxed deeper into the couch, letting out a soft sigh. Bathing in the sunlight. She didn’t know how long she spent laying there, Remy’s hands messaging over her stomach and back as he read, but she was almost asleep when he spoke again. Half melted into the cushions she’d relaxed so hard.

“You know, Gambit don't mind if you want to keep sharing a bed once this is over.”

Now, she froze. Pausing as she registered what he was implying. What he was subtly asking her.

And, almost immediately, she felt her stomach twist, tightening into a knot as she swallowed the pit that had appeared in her throat. The anxiety rising with each beat of her increasing heartrate.  

She couldn’t do that. They couldn’t do that. He knew that. It was too risky to share a bed, no matter how much skin she covered, any accidental touch from her would leave him drained, or worse, hurt. Which was the last thing she wanted to do to him. And she couldn’t believe he was even asking her this.

“We could take it slow. Careful. Gambit won’t make you do nothin’ you don’t want to. But we could try,” Remy added, the circles he was rubbing into her side slowed to a stop. 

No, no she couldn’t try. Didn’t he understand that? Never being able to touch, no skin on skin, never being able to feel one another without a barrier in the way. It was not a life Rogue would subject him to. 

And it wasn’t like every time she thought about a relationship with Remy she didn’t have flashes back to Cody. 

“Gambit just–” he sighed. “I just miss your voice chére, and while I love the dance, I don’t know if I can keep up with you luring me in just to push me back again.”

She wasn’t going to engage with this. Not right now. Not while she was stuck as a damn cat. She went to leap–

And a hand wrapped around her back and pressed down. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough pressure for Remy to trap her against the couch, pinning her there, before gently dragging her back. Her claws scraped over the thick fabric. 

“Chére, you gonna let me explain or non?” he asked, tensely. “Gambit not in the mood for your running.”

Running? Running! Oh, that was rich coming from the former thief. Having the gall to call her a coward. 

She replied to that with a warning hiss before Rogue started furiously squirming. Hoping her more flexible skeleton could worm out of his grip, but he held on. Pressing her further into the couch and refusing to let go. Anger building the longer he held on to her to the point an indignant yowl burst from her. But Remy’s grip didn’t loosen. 

“Rogue, please. Just let me explain. I'm sorr–” he started, letting her go, but Rogue explored with indignant rage before he could finish. 

Never had the brains to talk out her feelings, so it was her fists that she relied on. Punching her way out of stuff was easier than talking. And over the years, which now involved countless years of repressing her feelings, it had made her rather emotionally constipated. Or maybe unstable was better. 

She was angry. So she did the one thing she was good at. One thing she always did with Remy when he pushed her buttons too far. 

Striking out, her claws met flesh, and she pulled, leaving three jagged cuts on Remy’s hand in her wake. And he released her instantly, letting her finally jump away from him. She turned to look at him, to see the cuts began to slowly swell, going from pale pink to dark red as little droplets of blood began to well up and start oozing out of the wounds. She’d cut deep. 

And she regretted it as soon as she did it. But it was too late to take it back now. 

“Dat hurt, chére,” Remy told her, softly. 

He’d barely even flinched when she scratched him, just gave her a sad, hurt look of disappointment instead. Guilt. Which was somehow worse than alarmed pain she’d been assuming would happen.

Her stomach twisted. Already in a tight knot, it flipped. Like her stomach had been thrown into the washing machine. Rogue thought she was going to be sick. This was what she was always just trying to avoid. 

She leaped off the couch, wanting to get away from him and fled out of the room before he could say or do anything more. 

—

The sun almost blinded her as she stepped out onto the patio. Her eyes took a moment to adjust before she was able to continue on her walk of shame. 

Wandering over the pale stone patio, down the steps and around large hedge bushes, Rogue tried not to think about what had just happened inside between her and Remy. Tried not to think about the face he’d made when she scratched him. The dirt pebbled ground was uncomfortable under her paws. 

She was able to find a small stone bench near the pool, shaded by a large hedge bush that had been kept nicely trimmed. No one was around, so it was a perfect spot for her to sulk. 

Until her adoptive brother stumbled across her, hiding in the shade.  

“Ah, meine Lieblingsschwester,” he started greeting her cheerfully, poofing closer, before the smile dropped and he frowned. “Whatever has happened?”

Rogue, pointedly, turned her face away from him, making it clear she was not interested in listening. But Kurt simply blinked into the spot next to her on the other side, already sitting down. 

Did he ever just use his legs to move? But like a child, Rogue turned her head the other way.

“Ah, I see…” Kurt remarked and she froze. 

The little hairs all over her stood up. Had she been that obvious? 

“I could have sworn I saw a very remorseful Gambit looking for you,” he then added. “And now that I have found you sulking…trouble in paradise?”

Slowly, Rogue tilted her head towards him and glowered, an angry rumble vibrated through her body. To which Kurt only chuckled. 

“I jest, I jest. But I will assume, from your face alone, that I am correct. That you and Mr. LeBeau have had a disagreement?” he asked gently. 

And her lack of a response was enough of an answer for him.

“Has Remy done something to hurt you?” Kurt inquired, gently. “As your Bruder, I’d be welcome to teleport him high above this pool in punishment, if you would like?”

That certainly might help. The mental image of Remy blinking into existence over the pool in a puff of purple before falling with a loud comedic splash, did make her feel better, but no. It wasn’t what she wanted.

She stretched out a paw, extending her claws and swiping the air in front of her before dropping her body down. Try to charades her way through explaining what had happened, without explaining at all what had happened. 

“Ah, so you have both hurt one another.” Bless him. Ever observant, she doubted she could have asked for a better brother.

All she could do was sigh, nodding her head. 

“A regrettable situation,” he then said. “Judging by the look I saw on Remy’s face, he appeared quite guilt ridden himself. And it is not as though you can properly discuss this in your current form. How are you faring? I know this has not been an easy time for you.”

She shrugged. She was used to being inconvenienced. Not being able to touch other people without killing them was a pretty big inconvenience and she’d learned to endure that. She could endure this too.

Kurt hummed. “I have always been inspired by your strength and endurance, sister, but I will not lie. That I do worry sometimes that you carry more than you need. You have people around you most welcome to support, myself included.”

Rolling over, Rogue gently laid her head onto Kurt’s hand. A sign of her thanks. 

“And there is a certain ‘swamp rat’ who would do so without question,” he added. “But, alas, you will need to talk that out with him yourself. I cannot do so for you–”

Begrudgingly, she agreed. 

“-but I have no doubt it will be a matter you address when you are back to yourself. I know you have much courage in your heart, Rogue. More than you will admit. And I hope you do not have any longer before you transform back,” he then sighed, remorseful. “I will not deny that I will miss your Katze form when that happens.”

Seriously? Rogue lifted her head up and made a face at him. She hoped she was able to express her disbelief to that.  

But Kurt only laughed. 

“It was fun for us to finally match,” he joked, swiping his own devilish, blue tail over her head. “Like proper siblings, ja?”

She rolled her eyes and let out an amused huff in response. He waved it again in front of her face like a lure and she couldn’t help but make a playful attempt to grab it, barely making an effort and missing it in her half-assed attempt. But Kurt smiled, satisfied. 

“I think I will leave you to your reflection. You look like you could use it,” her adoptive brother said as he moved to stand. “Do enjoy the sunshine.”

And in a swirl of smoke, he teleported away. 

But he was right. She might not be able to communicate properly with Remy right now, but the least she could do was apologize. She owed him that much.

Jumping down from the small, stone bench she’d been laying on, Rogue began making her way across the pool area, and back towards the mansion. The sunlight reflected off the calm, light blue water as she slunk dangerously towards the edge. Putting one paw in front of the other, she walked as if balancing on a tightrope. Thinking to herself how she would apologize to Remy. 

And then she slipped, her paw missing the edge, She was suddenly falling like a rock and splashing into the pool.

Well.

Shit. 

Today was just not going her way. 

Sighing, body bobbing up and down, she kicked her legs towards the pool stairs, hoping she could doggy paddle her way over to them and crawl out.

Only her body wouldn’t respond the way she wanted it to. Twisting and turning as her head began to bob beneath the water more, sinking, forcing her to try to kick harder to keep herself above the surface. Rogue realized too late that she couldn’t swim in this form. Didn’t know how to. Her body wouldn’t respond the way she needed it to. Leaving her flaying about as the water started to drag her down. 

She started to panic. If she didn't get help she was going to drown. 

While a damn cat. 

What would her tombstone say now? Here lies Anne-Marie? Probably not. She’d never told anyone that. No, it’d probably say something like “Here lies Rogue. Too stupid for her own good that she died a cat.” 

Oh, God. Was her coffin going to be cat sized?

Exhaustion was creeping up on her now as she tried to fiercely kick to the surface. Body slowly becoming exasperated and fatigued by the lack of air she was getting into her lungs. She'd gotten a mouthful of water instead, choking on it and cutting off more air from getting into her lungs. Not that she'd barely been getting mouthfuls of air whenever her head went above the waves, before it would then slip back under. And repeated. It was torturous. 

She understood now why cats hate water. Given she was now going to drown as one, Rogue regretted that couldn’t even give them her sincerest apologies for ever daring to judge them.  

Then, a large hand wrapped around the scruff of her neck and retched her out of the water. Her body dropped onto the stone tiles around the pool. Resembling a wet mop, she created a puddle next to a large form that had rescued her. Then she coughed, feeling water get thrown up her esophagus from her lungs and out her fanged mouth. Black spots clouded her vision as she tried to catch her breath, blurring out her rescuer. Who was now just a vague dark shape hovering above her.  

“Chére?!” Oh, it was Remy. A very panicked Remy.

As her vision returned, the first thing she saw was wide, alarmed red on black eyes as he stared down at her. His hand wrapped around her body and he gently shook her, trying to get a reaction. She blinked up at him, letting out another small, pitiful cough.

And watched Remy lean back and let out a relieved breath. “Screw the bell," he said. "You gonna make Gambit put a tracker on you now. Aren’t you?”

Rogue was too tired to do anything but try and breath. Heaving sighs of air as she lay limply against the warm cement. Dropping her head down.

“Keep your eyes open,” he ordered, tensely. 

If she could give him a thumbs up to show her understanding she would, but she currently had no opposable thumbs to do so with. Let alone the energy to even lift her arm.

The soft, cotton fabric of a turtle neck was wrapped around her as Remy lifted her up into the air, cradling her in his arms. Pushing himself up to stand with his legs, he started quickly walking back towards the mansion, while Rogue lay limply in his arms. Feeling her heart finally begin to calm. Exhaustion creeping through her bones. Feeling safe. 

“Jus’ breathe. Gambit got you.”

—

After being blow dried within an inch of her life, to the point she was briefly left resembling an oversized pompom (she really understood now why cats hate water), and an intense checked over by Hank (“Again, I am not a vet”), Rogue was cleared to leave the med bay for now, but barred from the pool and other water features on the premises until further notice. 

And she’d jumped down from the table and fled out of the room before anyone could stop her. It was mortifying enough that she’d nearly gone and drowned herself, but, no matter how embarrassed she still felt, there were matters she needed to tend to. There was someone she needed to thank. 

And also apologize too. 

Pathetically sneaking around the mansion, she ended up finding him in the living room, siting in the dark, shuffling a deck of cards in one hand. He’d changed into a dark T-shirt. It was late enough in the evening, and a warm summer night, that most of the students were either upstairs in bed or hanging by the bonfire on the patio. 

She still remembered how gentle he’d been when he’d deposited her in the med-bay earlier, lingering long enough to make sure she was okay, before disappearing as the others all hoovered worriedly around her. 

Padding quietly across the room. She was able to make it to the armchair he was sitting on and jumped, leaping up and landing onto the arm. 

“Evening, chére,” he said as he tossed a card up in the air and caught it, onyx eyes watching the playing card spin. And she noted that he threw it with the hand she’d scratched. The long marks were covered strategically by a couple band-aids. Over areas that had had the worst bleeding.

He’d lied to the others when they asked, after Ororo had noticed them while Hank was tending to Rogue. Said she’d scratched him accidentally while he was pulling her out of the pool. It wasn't her fault. She’d panicked, lashing out and hitting him without realizing while trying to save herself.  

His eyes caught her stare. In the evening light they looked almost completely black. She could barely see his red irises.

“Didn’t do no damage,” he assured her, flexing said hand in the moonlight. “Barely even hurt.”

I doubt that, Rogue thought, hoping the expression on her face made that apparent. Those scratches were long and she knew she’d cut deep. Remy only smiled and rested the hand down on the arm rest. Out of sight. Like he was ashamed to show them to her. 

But that wasn’t what she wanted. 

Hoping down onto his lap, Rogue moved across towards the other side of the chair, stepping gently over Remy’s legs as she did. Lowering her head submissively, she rested it down on the top of his damaged hand, over the scratches, rubbing her cheek against them apologetically.  

“Gambit forgive you, chére,” Remy said. His other hand came up, cupping her head and rubbing small circles into her cheek with his thumb. “Not dat there was anything to forgive.”

She didn't deserve it. His forgiveness. She hated that he did that so easily when it came to her. She’d hurt him and she’d done it for selfish reasons. 

“A scoundrel like me deserved it,” Remy added, softly, snapping her from her thoughts. 

No, no that wasn’t true. But when Rogue tried to speak her disagreement it came out as a disgruntled yowl. Before she leapt up, her paws pressed on his chest as she started rubbing her head underneath his chin and against his neck. 

Remy’s hand stroked down her back gently. And she felt the chuckle he made reverberate down his chest. 

“Gambit appreciates the sentiment, chére, but it true. Was coming to find you and apologize,” he explained. “I pushed too hard. It wasn’t fair to dump all dat on you when you can’t exactly talk back.” 

Still shouldn’t have scratched you, she thought to herself. Letting out a sigh, she dropped her body down, laying herself across his chest. Her chin resting on his neck.

“Gambit just greedy. Sometimes he want more than he can have,” he admitted gently, breathing out a chuckle, stroking a hand down her back. 

And she wanted the same. Wanted nothing more than to touch him. Be touched by him. Sure, he’d touched her before, placed his hand comfortingly on her lower back, or taken her gloved hand in his, or maybe wrapped one of her long curls around his finger, always when he was trying to annoy her (even though she loved it). But Rogue wanted to feel him for once. Run her hands down his chest and back without having something in the way. Press her lips against his without fearing she’d hurt or, worse, kill him. Push her fingers through his hair, grab them, pull on the strands till he was moaning in her mouth.

God, there was nothing more she wanted. Her chest warmed at the thought. That constant desire to run his hands through her curls whenever he saw them. He wanted nothing more than to play with them as she rested her head on his lap. Or wrap her in a blanket so he could hold her against his chest while they slept, so they could share a bed. Breathe in the sweet smell of her strawberry shampoo. He’d wear gloves for the rest of his life if it meant being able to hold hers for a minute more. Maybe he could convince her one day. He’d wait as long as he needed–

Wait, no. Those weren’t her thoughts. 

She barely had a second to realize what was happening. Before there was that familiar old pull. Like pulling on a rope. One Rogue knew well. 

And, above her, Remy groaned, face scrunching up as he grimaced. As if he had a bad headache coming on and not his consciousness being quietly drained out of him and into Rogue.

Somehow, her powers had reactivated. 

And she was now draining Remy of his. And more. 

She quickly snapped back, panicked, trying to get away before she caused Remy any more harm, but the world was spinning now. Her body tilted back until she was falling, slipping backwards off of Remy’s lap, and down into the ground below. She tried to catch herself as she fell, certain she heard a panicked cry of her name as everything rushed past her. Long streaks of reddish brown and white blew past her face as she made an effort to turn her body so she landed on her hands. Her knees hit the hardwood first before her hands. 

Momentarily dazed, vision blurring, the world still spinning around her she tried to steady herself, pushing back up onto her hands and knees. 

Hold on. Hands.

Hands.

She had her hands again. Ones with opposable thumbs. Not little white paws and sharp claws. She was back to normal. 

And, judging from the cold air brushing against her skin, creating goosebumps in its wake, she was now completely and utterly naked. 

That was until Remy threw the comforter that had been resting over the armchair around her shoulders. Covering her exposed form. Before he collapsed to his knees next to her from exhaustion, having spent all his energy trying to cover her modesty. One hand was still clutching tightly the arm of his seat in an effort to keep himself upright. But that didn’t stop how close he looked to passing out. 

“Remy!” 

She moved towards him to help, but quickly stopped herself. With her currently ungloved hands held out in front of her, there was no way she could touch him. Not like this. Too much skin. Too much risk. Not to mention, Remy’s own powers were now thrumming through her body, under her skin. It felt like a thousand, tiny ants were traveling around her hands and under her fingertips, desperate to get out.

Besides the risk of putting him in a temporary coma, the last thing she needed to do was accidentally blow up the clothes he was wearing. Or the armchair. 

She really had to make sure she didn’t touch anything right now.

And just when she thought—

“It okay,” Remy wheezed out, reassuring. Taking a deep breath. And then another. “Gambit don’t think he’ll pass out this time.”

But with how white and woozy his face looked, the half lidded eyes and his head moving back and forth as if it was heavier then the rest of his body, Rogue had trouble believing him. But the others had heard the yelling and crashing sounds, rushing in the room to help. All ready for a fight, before realizing that there was no enemy to face. No threat to the mansion or their friends. 

Just Rogue, kneeling on the floor, back in human form, and naked as the day she was born. 

“Rogue, you’re back!” Jean cried out.

“Well, I didn’t really leave,” she pointed out, jokingly. 

She clutched the edge of the comforter tighter, pulling it further over herself. Which she noticed Scott, ever the boy scout, responded to by looking up directly at the ceiling. 

“Jubilee, run up and get Rogue some clothes,” Ororo ordered gently, but Kurt had already beaten her to it. Vanishing out of sight in a swirling cloud of indigo and lilac smoke before reappearing in another, a stack of her clothes held between his three fingered hands. 

He quickly came to her side, handing the clothes over while also shielding her from the others. And Rogue thanked him as she took the clothes, trying to make sure the blanket didn’t slip off her as she maneuvered them onto her lap.

“You okay, kid?” Logan asked gruffly.

“Peachy,” Rogue replied as she shimmed on the pair of panties Kurt got her, trying to get dressed as quickly as she could.

“I was asking Gumbo,” the Canadian clarified, nodding behind her. “He looks pretty out of it to me.”

To which Remy responded by falling face first into the wooden floor behind Rogue with a loud thud. Out like a light. 

—

“I’m sorry again, sugar.”

“You can stop apologizing, chére. Gambit pretty sure he’ll live.”

And with that he pulled the cold compress Jean had laid over his head, off his eyes. He was still spread out across the couch, where the others had moved him after he passed out. Rogue, now dressed, had spent the past hour watching over him. Waiting for him to wake while his powers slowly faded away, and handing him an ibuprofen when he woke with a pounding headache.

“And he know you didn’t mean to,” Remy added, throwing his legs off the couch and slowly sitting up. 

Noting the empty space next to him, Rogue pushed up and out of the armchair she’d been waiting in, carefully taking a seat next to him on the sofa. With a safe amount of space between them. 

“You heard from the petite Circe?” he asked. 

By Circe he meant Lainey. The young mutant who had been the accidental cause of all this. 

Lainey had sought her out when she heard Rogue had turned back. She’d already apologized before, back when Rogue was still a cat (and repeatedly), but had wanted to repeat her apology again. Pink cheeked and staring shamefully down at her new white and neon colored sneakers, Lainey had apologized for any inconvenience her powers had caused Rogue. That, with the help of the others, she’d been slowly getting control of them. Ororo even thought she might be able to turn people back after she touched them. And she promised it would never happen again.

But Rogue had already forgiven the girl. Even before she apologized the first time, and she was touched that she had felt the need to personally do so again. Rogue let her know they were good. If anyone knew what it was like to not have control, to fear what your powers could do to another, it was Rogue.

“She came to apologize again,” Rogue explained. “She’s still pretty embarrassed by it.”

“Sweet kid,” Remy remarked. 

She nodded back her agreement. “She is. I think she’ll be just fine here.”

As she spoke, Rogue couldn’t help but slowly shift closer to him. Her hand moving closer to his. She did keep her eyes trained on the floor in front of her, sucking her lower lip in between her teeth as she nervously chewed on it. 

“And you reminded me that there is someone I need to apologize to,” she added.

Remy sighed. “Gambit already forgive you for scratching him,” he told her. “He shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Still…you were right. I owe you an explanation," she admitted, before taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry Remy. I'm not trying to lead you along, you know that?"

"He do."

"I just...I just get so scared. About hurting you. And I know that's not a good enough-"

"Chére, you could never hurt me."

"I know, I just...I do care about you Remy," she admitted. "I want you to know that. That I like being with you. I'm just asking for a little time."

“We can wait."

"Huh?"

"We can wait,” Remy repeated, gently. “Take it slow. You can tell Gambit when you ready. Not because you think dat’s what he wants to hear.”

"You sure?"

He shrugged. "I can keep dancing. Let you lead."

How on earth she’d end up with a man like him in love with her, she’d never know. She thought her heart would explode with how hard it was now hammering against her sternum.

Placing her gloved hand over his cheek, Rogue kissed the top of her hand. The only way she could express her affection to him. Wishing she could actually press her lips against his. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. 

She turned and carefully rested her head on his shoulder. She made extra sure her hair was in the way as an additional barrier as she reached out and took Remy’s hand in her gloved one. A silent thank you. 

“I did wanna ask, you always been a cat-person, sugar?” she asked, playfully. 

Remy raised a dark brow as he glanced towards her. “Don’t you know dat curiosity killed the cat?” he replied with a smirk. 

Rogue only groaned. “Please. Enough with the cat puns. It was already a near sanity breaking experience being a cat.”

That got a laugh from him. A loud burst as he leaned back against the couch. A laugh that brought a smile to Rogue’s face when she saw it. 

“You still didn’t answer my question.”

Remy huffed, before he shrugged. “Always had a soft spot for them. Gambit use to fed em back in New Orleans when he was growing up.”

“Strays?”

“Was one too. A lowly stray taken in by the Thieves’ Guild. I knew what it was like to be hungry and alone. Once in a while I’d fed em. Ended up with a gang of em in the Lower Quarter who would wait for me.”

Rogue found herself with the mental image of a young Remy crouched down in an alley surrounded by different colored cats. Scrawny arms and hand me down clothes he was growing into. She wondered if his dark hair would have been as long as it was now, maybe a little shorter. And his dark, black and red eyes. Ones he’d told her once he used to hide behind sunglasses when he was little. People were less likely to point the finger at him and accuse him of being a demon, or, more correctly, a mutant when he did that. 

“And Tante Mattie kept em to. They’d be linger around her home, always yowling up a storm, waiting to be fed whenever Gambit went to see her.”

“Ever had any of your own?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Moved around too much to take any in. And then Gambit joined the X-Men. Don’t think he'd have the time to be caring for some minous what we all the world saving we do.”

“Would you want to?” she asked next.

Remy thought about it for a second, lips pursed, then nodded. “Want no more than three though. All solid colors too.” Holding up his fingers he counted them out. “One white, one grey, and Gambit would have to have a ginger cat too.”

“For the chaos?”

“Ben sǔr. Why else?” he said with an easy smile. 

She smiled back. Glancing down towards where their hands were now millimeters apart on the couch cushion, she gently moved her gloved pinking, poking his hand. And Remy responded by turning his hand over, silently welcoming and signally she could take it. Which she did.

She could stay like this forever. Maybe one day her fears and anxieties would stop holding her back. 

“Hey. I ever tell you of this dream I had once? Where the Professor was real mad at me and I thought I’d absorb the powers of a kitten’s cuteness to get out of trouble?” 

Remy let out a low chuckle and it made Rogue’s smile widen just hearing it.  

“I doubt I could do it for real, but it would be a pretty neat trick, wouldn’t it?” she added. 

“Chére, Gambit think you already sweet enough on the eyes. Any more and you’ll put a man in the ground. Without having to touch him.”