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It was almost three in the morning. Remy LeBeau closed the apartment door with more force than he had intended. He stood still for a few seconds, one hand resting against the wall in the entryway and a satisfied smile on his face, as if he had just completed a particularly complicated mission. He had managed to make it home without Logan having to carry him through the streets of New York.
Considering how much alcohol they had drunk that night, Remy thought that alone deserved a celebration.
"Allons..." he murmured, chuckling as he tried to take off his shoes.
The first one came off without much trouble. The second, however, seemed determined to stay on his foot. He had to lean against the wall, tug at it several times, and finally give a little hop when he managed to free himself. The shoe landed beside the other one, though not quite where he had intended to leave it. Gambit stared at it.
"Fait!"
He took off his trench coat and draped it over the back of a chair. Then he ran a hand through his reddish-brown hair, attempting to straighten it without much success. A genuine smile had remained on his face ever since he had said goodbye to Logan. It really had been a good night.
Logan had cheated death once again. The news that he was alive had given Gambit a part of himself back. They weren't just longtime teammates and friends, they were as close as brothers. It had been their reunion night, filled with ridiculous conversations, powerful emotions that they had both tried to hide behind their silly jokes, and arguments that neither of them would probably remember very clearly the next morning. The night had flown by, and it had been Logan who, upon noticing that Gambit was starting to slur his words, had sent him home in an Uber.
He hadn't protested. On the way home, he had felt perfectly in control, but now, in the silence of his apartment, his head felt heavy, his legs strangely unsteady, and his eyelids weighed a ton. He yawned as he walked, imagining himself collapsing into bed, but first he needed to use the bathroom.
He made his way through the apartment, trying to walk in a straight line, although the floor seemed to have other ideas. When he reached the bathroom, he closed the door behind him and took care of business. Then he turned on the tap, washed his hands carefully, and splashed cold water on his face. The relief was immediate. He sighed, leaning over the sink.
He wet his face again, ran his hands through his hair, and reached for the hand towel hanging beside the sink. He dried his face with slow movements. When he finished, he tried to hang the towel back up. He missed, and it fell to the floor. He stared at it for a few seconds, as though he were trying to remember what he was supposed to do with the object, then decided it wasn't a problem worthy of his attention.
The bedroom was upstairs, and Remy discovered that climbing the stairs required considerably more concentration than he had expected. He gripped the handrail with one hand and began to climb slowly, placing one foot in front of the other with a seriousness that would have been comical if anyone had been there to see him.
He had no intention of falling, much less in his own home. He began counting each step in French. On the final stretch, his foot caught the edge of a step. He swore, clung tightly to the handrail, and barely managed to regain his balance.
Finally, he pushed the bedroom door open with a little too much force and let out a sigh, feeling like a champion. The sudden noise in the middle of the night woke everyone sleeping in the bed. Rogue opened her eyes, as did their three cats.
Just seconds earlier, she had been fast asleep, curled up beneath the sheets with three cats scattered around her, each one having apparently claimed a portion of the mattress for himself. Oliver was curled up beside her legs. Lucifer had settled near her waist, his head resting on the corner of the blanket, while Figaro proudly occupied the space beside her pillow, practically pressed against her shoulder.
Anna blinked, still disoriented from sleep.
"Remy?"
She received no immediate answer. She sat up to turn on the bedside lamp. Its warm light illuminated the bedroom, allowing her to get a better look at him. Her husband was disheveled, his cheeks slightly flushed and his eyes bright.
Their gazes met. The moment he saw her, his expression transformed. Remy smiled at her with such spontaneous tenderness that Anna immediately smiled back. He stared at her for a few seconds, as if he had just discovered something wonderful.
"Rogue, you're here."
"I live here, Remy."
He fell silent for a few seconds. He frowned, then looked up at the ceiling, the gesture he always made when he was trying to remember something. Anna had to suppress a laugh when she realized he was attempting to recall something important. Specifically, he was about to remember that they had gotten married a few weeks ago and that she had moved in with him just a few days earlier. Finally, he chuckled.
"That's right. Lucky me!"
She finished sitting up, leaned against the headboard, and studied him. Remy’s shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and half-untucked, his collar crooked and his hair messier than usual. A satisfied smile lit up his face. He closed the door with a gentleness that would have been admirable if he hadn't needed to lean against it to stay upright. Then he turned around to look at her again.
"Salut, Madame LeBeau," he whispered.
Anna smiled from the bed. She could definitely tell that Remy had had a wonderful night with Logan.
"Hi, sugah."
Figaro let out a meow and moved away from the pillow when Remy took a step toward the bed. The movement fully awakened Lucifer, who lifted his head and watched his owner with obvious suspicion. Oliver, meanwhile, decided that the whole thing was far too much trouble for him. He stretched, turned around, and closed his eyes again.
"Hey, boys."
Lucifer blinked slowly, as though he were assessing his owner's condition and wasn't particularly pleased with what he saw.
"Don't look at me like that, t-bête. I'm perfectly fine," Remy whispered.
Rogue held back a laugh.
He began taking off his shirt, or at least he tried. He managed to pull one arm out of its sleeve, got tangled up in the other one, and had to stop to figure out what was happening. Anna watched him with growing amusement.
"Do you need help?"
"No, mon cœur. I've got everything under control."
The shirt ended up on the floor.
"I can see that."
Next, he unbuckled his belt and tried to pull down his pants. The problem was that balancing on one leg turned out to be considerably more difficult than he remembered. He swayed to one side. He stretched out his arms and took a desperate step to regain his balance and nearly fell over.
Anna swung one leg out of bed, ready to help him, but he managed to grab the edge of the mattress. The movement made the bed shake, and all three cats focused their attention on him, this time including Oliver.
"I'm fine," Remy assured her, with a dignity that would have been more convincing if he hadn't been clinging to the mattress as though the laws of gravity in their apartment had suddenly been reversed.
He looked so pleased with himself that Anna suspected he wasn't even aware of how close he had come to ending up on the floor.
"Darlin', you sure you're okay? "
Remy lifted his head toward her, nodded, smiled blearily, and sighed deeply.
"I've never been better."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Mais yeah!"
He tried to straighten up and had to grab the mattress again. Rogue folded her arms across her chest.
"Remy Etienne LeBeau, you're drunk."
Her husband opened his mouth, apparently ready to protest, but ended up smiling again.
"A lil'."
"A lil'?"
"Maybe a lil' more than a lil'."
Anna burst out laughing, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. She didn't want to make fun of him, but the expression on his face as he tried to defend his sobriety was simply too adorable.
"Did you have fun with Logan?"
Remy's smile widened.
"Oh, yeah!" he answered enthusiastically. "A whole lot, I had a great time!"
"I'm glad."
"Logan's a great friend, a wonderful person," he continued.
"I know, sweetie."
"An excellent man. Although playing cards with him is a headache."
"Why's that?"
"He has the worst poker face in the world. He growls every time he gets a bad hand."
She giggled.
"And he drinks like the world is gonna end tomorrow." He added.
"I can imagine."
Remy nodded solemnly, satisfied that his wife understood the seriousness of the matter. Then he returned his attention to the bed, which had apparently become the most important objective of his existence. He finally managed to take off his pants, although he had to sit on the edge of the mattress to do so without losing his balance. Then, wearing only his boxers, he turned toward Anna. He gazed at her with an expression full of affection.
"So... my wife."
Anna's heart melted.
"Your wife," she confirmed, pulling back the covers to make room for him. "Come here before you hurt yourself."
Remy obeyed. He clumsily crawled across the mattress, settled beside her, and let out a sigh of relief when Anna helped him pull the covers over himself. As though the little commotion had been nothing more than a minor interruption, the three cats gradually returned to their original positions. Figaro curled up near the pillow, Lucifer rested his head on the blanket, and Oliver curled up beside Anna's legs again. Rogue smiled at their behavior. They had undoubtedly adopted Remy's carefree personality.
"Even they don't want to deal with you tonight."
"They adore me."
"Of course they do."
He nodded, apparently in complete agreement with that answer, and as soon as Anna lay down beside him, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. She jumped and let out a small cry when she felt his cold skin against hers.
"You're freezing!"
He buried his face against her neck.
"Oui, ma belle. It's real cold outside. I hate the cold," he murmured.
He pressed himself against her, seeking the warmth of her body beneath the sheets. Anna gently caressed his cheek with her fingers, brushing a damp lock of hair away from his forehead. She shook her head affectionately, and hugged him again to help him warm up.
"I know, sweetheart. You remind me every winter."
"It's horrible."
"Don't worry. You're here now. I'll warm you up in no time."
Remy smiled with his red eyes half-closed and buried his face against her neck. He began murmuring something in Cajun French, so quietly and quickly that Anna couldn't understand a single word. Still, the way his voice softened whenever he spoke to her always gave her a warm feeling in her chest. Remy had a particular way of pronouncing those words, drawing out certain syllables and mixing expressions she barely recognized. Even when he was too drunk to speak English properly, his Cajun French sounded sweet and familiar. She kissed his hair.
"I can't understand you, sugah."
Remy chuckled softly against her neck.
"C'est pas grave, mon ange..."
"I did understand that."
He kissed her skin just below her jaw and went back to murmuring those incomprehensible words. Anna didn't know exactly what he was telling her, but his voice was so tender that she simply stroked the back of his neck. She kissed his temple before looking at him again.
"How much did you drink tonight?"
He remained silent.
"Remy?"
"Yes, my love?"
"How much did you drink with Logan?"
Her husband lifted his head and looked at her with a deeply thoughtful expression. Anna could almost see him trying to organize his thoughts, gathering the memories of the evening in some corner of his brain that, judging by his expression, was working rather slowly.
"I don't remember, but I had a great time!"
"You already told me that."
Remy seemed to consider this information and then decided it wasn't important. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the woman in his arms. He looked at her with such spontaneous affection that Anna stopped worrying about how late it was.
"You're beautiful," he murmured.
"Thank you, sweetheart."
"Non. No, no." Remy shook his head as though she wasn't understanding the magnitude of the matter. "You have no idea how much."
Anna opened her mouth to reply, but he leaned in and kissed her. It was a passionate, warm, slightly clumsy kiss, but it was filled with so much affection that she smiled against his lips. Remy cupped her face with one hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb as he kissed her as though he had been away from her for weeks instead of just a few hours. Anna returned the kiss, sliding her fingers through his hair. She loved him so much that it still sometimes surprised her how a caress or a kiss could make her feel the same way she had the first time she had been able to feel his skin and lips.
When they finally parted, Remy kept his forehead pressed against hers. He was breathing slowly, his eyes closed and a satisfied smile on his face. Anna ran her tongue over her lips and then wrinkled her nose.
"So, it was a whiskey kind of night, huh?"
Remy burst into genuine, carefree, slightly uncontrollable laughter, which ended in a little hiccup.
"That's all Logan had! Whiskey. Lots and lots of whiskey. And Logan kept saying he could drink more than me."
Rogue started laughing with him.
"And you wanted to prove him wrong?"
"Of course," he said proudly.
Anna studied his flushed face, his sleepy eyes, and the arm still wrapped around her waist as though she were the only thing keeping him from floating right out of bed.
"I don't think you were very successful, love. You're a complete mess."
He laughed again. She smiled at him, caressed his cheek, and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Remy kept looking at her. His smile slowly faded, replaced by an unexpectedly vulnerable expression. Anna knew that look. She had seen it after some of his worst missions, when he came home exhausted and needed to make sure she was still there. She had also seen it during intimate moments, when the jokes and smiles gave way to the feelings Remy didn't always know how to put into words.
Something was different that night. He was drunk, his thoughts must have been tangled, and his emotions were probably harder to hide. Even so, when he took her hand, he did so with a gentleness that made her heart ache.
"I love you, Anna."
"I have no doubt about it."
"Non, but..." he frowned and shook his head. "Non, listen. Listen to me."
She stopped smiling for a moment, moved by how seriously he was trying to make himself understood.
"I'm listening."
Remy gently squeezed her fingers.
"I love you."
"You made it clear, sugah."
He seemed satisfied for a second, but then he shook his head again.
"Non, non. You don't understand."
Rogue pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
"Then explain it to me."
Remy brought her hand to his chest and placed it over his heart. Beneath her palm, she could feel his steady heartbeat.
"I really love you. I really do, Anna Marie. You..." He stopped, searching for the words. His expression became almost distressed when he couldn't express himself the way he wanted to. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
She felt her throat tighten. Remy continued, gently stroking her knuckles with his thumb.
"I know I'm not perfect. I know sometimes I do stupid things. Crazy things. And sometimes I worry you too much. But you accept me and you love me." His eyes grew glassy as he smiled. "You really love me."
His wife had to look away for a moment to control the emotion filling her chest.
"Of course I love you, Remy."
"What'd you say?"
He had heard her, but he wanted to hear it again.
"I said I love you."
His eyes narrowed into a hooded smile as he gazed at her for a few seconds, as though those were the best words he had heard all night.
"I don't know what I did to get so lucky." He chuckled softly, although his voice grew gentler. "I don't know how I got you to love me despite all my mistakes in the past. But I'm the luckiest man in the world because you're with me."
Anna looked at him again. Remy seemed to be making an enormous effort to keep his eyes open. The alcohol was getting the better of him, and yet he was still determined to explain something that, to him, was far too important to leave unsaid.
"You chose me," he murmured. "Outta all the men you could've chosen, you chose me. You married me. Now you sleep with me every night. Even when I thought I was gonna lose you, and that everything between us was over... at the end you still chose me. Before, this place felt so empty, and now, when I walk in you're here. Now I know I have a home to come back to."
His voice broke slightly on the last sentence. Anna felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had never doubted his love, not for a moment. There was simply an intimacy they shared that she knew hundreds of thousands of people wished they could experience with someone else. After years of conflicts, tragedies, and battles both internal and external, they had chosen to stay together. She knew the man hiding behind the mischievous smiles, the clever remarks, and that seemingly unshakable confidence. She knew his fears, the wounds he carried with him, and how difficult it sometimes was for him to believe he deserved all the good things life had given him. She knew that, even after all their years together, Remy was still amazed that she loved him.
She cupped his face in both hands.
"Don’t you ever listen, you stubborn man? I said it before, you’re the most important thing in the world to me. And I’m exactly where I’d supposed to be, by your side."
He smiled at her, at peace with their conversation.
"Je t'aime, mon amour," he whispered, pronouncing the words with immense tenderness.
Feeling her heart melt, Anna leaned forward and kissed his forehead, leaving her lips there for a few seconds.
"I love you too, hon. More than you can imagine. You don't have to wonder why I chose you. You're the man I want to share my life with, even when you drive me crazy. I wouldn't change a thing about what we have."
Rogue stroked his hair, gently combing through it with her fingers. Remy closed his eyes, enjoying the contact as though her words had given him permission to stop fighting sleep.
"Now you need to sleep, sugah. Tomorrow, you're gonna wake up with the worst hangover of your life."
He opened one eye.
"You think so?"
Rogue burst out laughing.
"You're probably going to swear you'll never drink whiskey again for as long as you live."
"Nah."
"The last time you ended up like this, you said you were going to drink nothing but water for the rest of your life."
Remy fell silent, thinking it over.
"That sounds like a very smart decision."
She cracked up again.
"I'm sure it'll still sound like an excellent idea tomorrow."
He settled against her, holding her waist more tightly. His body gradually relaxed, although he still seemed to have something to say.
"Anna..."
"Yes, sweetie?"
"I love you so much."
"Alright, that's enough, you tease, time to sleep."
He hugged her more tightly, burying his face against her breasts. Anna stroked the back of his neck and felt his breathing grow slower. For a moment, she thought he had finally fallen asleep. Then she heard his voice again, soft and drowsy.
"I love you more than anything, more than anyone."
"You'd better," she said playfully.
Remy took a deep breath.
"More than my own life."
Those words moved her so deeply that she felt a strange flutter in her chest. She stroked his back and rested her cheek against his head, enveloping him in the warmth of her body.
"Then take care of that life, because now it belongs to me, too. I want you to live a long life with me. I want you to come home safe and sound, and I want us to share many more nights like this. I want to grow old with you, Dark eyes. I want you to always come back to me, even if you wake me up in the middle of the night because you can't figure out how to take off your pants after drinking with Logan."
Remy giggled against her chest.
"That was hard. The pants were conspiring against me."
Anna had to bite her lip to keep from laughing too loudly. He lifted his head slightly and looked at her with an expression of profound love.
"You're the best wife in the world."
She caressed his cheek.
"And right now, you're the drunkest husband in the world."
Remy smiled.
"But I love you."
"You've already told me that... several times."
She leaned forward to give him one last kiss on the lips.
He looked at her for a few seconds, as though he were trying to store those words somewhere in his memory. Then he smiled and buried himself against her chest again. He took a deep breath and murmured something in Cajun French once more, his voice so quiet that she could barely make out the words. Anna didn't understand the sentence, but the way he spoke, his breath brushing against her skin and one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, was so sweet that she smiled, deeply moved.
"I wish I could understand everything you say when you talk like that."
Remy snuggled close against her skin.
"Un jour, chère..."
"I hope so. Now stop talking and get some rest."
"Oui, madame."
Anna turned off the bedside lamp. Lucifer briefly lifted his head at the change in lighting, but when he realized everything had gone quiet again, he curled up beside the pillow. Figaro and Oliver didn't even notice the change. All three returned to sleep peacefully, as though that little nighttime storm had never happened.
The penthouse bedroom settled into deep calm. At that hour, the windows were completely sealed, and the noise of the city outside was nonexistent; everything remained absolutely silent. Even so, the lights from New York's buildings managed to slip through the tiniest gaps in the room's long, heavy curtains, casting faint lines across the bedroom.
Rogue settled beneath the sheets and drew Remy closer to her. He immediately curled up against her body and placed a kiss right between her breasts.
She smiled in the darkness and stroked his back with slow, soothing movements.
"Good night, Remy."
"Bonne nuit, chère."
Then he added something else in Cajun French, so softly and lazily drawn out that she couldn't understand it. Still, his voice was so affectionate that Anna wanted to wrap herself around him, though the three cats currently occupying the mattress made it physically impossible. She settled for stroking the back of his neck and kissing his hair.
A few seconds passed.
"Anna..."
She let out a long sigh, with a fond smile.
"What is it now?"
"I love you."
Anna let out a soft laugh and hugged him closer.
"Yes, you made it very clear, Remy. Now go to sleep."
This time, he didn't say anything else. His breathing grew deep and steady, and his muscles relaxed completely. Within minutes, he was asleep, still clinging to her as though even in his dreams he needed to make sure his wife was right there beside him.
She stayed awake for a while, stroking his hair and listening to his breathing. Every now and then, Remy shifted slightly, searching for a more comfortable position, and she adjusted him in her arms without waking him. She smiled as she remembered how convinced he had been that he had beaten Logan in a whiskey drinking contest. Tomorrow, he would have to deal with a terrible hangover and he would probably try to convince her that he hadn't drunk that much, and she couldn't wait for morning just to watch him try.
Rogue was already looking forward to hearing his voice again. She kissed his forehead one last time and rested her head on the pillow.
"Hey, I can't help loving you all the time, either," she whispered.
Anna Marie closed her eyes and held him against her chest. Remy spent the rest of the night resting in the arms of the woman he loved, completely oblivious to the world and convinced, even in his dreams, that he was the luckiest man on Earth, or better yet, in the entire universe.