Chapter Text
In the early morning light, the kitchen of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters buzzed with a cozy energy.
Remy Lebeau, known to most as Gambit, stood at the stove, flipping eggs and sizzling bacon with an easy grace that suggested he’d done this a hundred times before. He wore a hand-cut crop top and sweatpants, revealing the taut muscles of his arms as he worked.
The scent of breakfast filled the air, and the occasional giggle or cheerful remark from the young students seated at the large wooden table hinted at the camaraderie that was so intrinsic to their lives here.
One of the students, a young girl with black bat-like ears and an adorable snub nose, couldn’t be more than 12, looked over at Remy with her large, curious red eyes. She was a delightful mix of innocence and nascent power, a reminder of the many lives that the mansion had taken under its wing.
“Mr. Gambit, when will the other teachers be up?” she asked, her voice as sweet as the maple syrup she was pouring over her stack of pancakes.
Remy chuckled, his Cajun accent thick as molasses. “Give it a bit, mon petite. They need deir’ beauty sleep, non?” He glanced over at the clock on the wall and noticed the time was closer to midday than he’d thought.
The small girl nodded happily, shoving more pieces of pancake in her mouth with a fisted fork.
The students had early classes, so the teachers had a little more leeway in their schedules. He plated the food and brought it over to the table, setting it down in front of the eager recipients. Their eyes widened with delight, and their spoons clinked against the plates in their haste to dig in.
The kitchen door swung open once more, and in sauntered a more teenage student, tall and lanky, with a mop of unruly brown hair. His abnormal trait being the gills on the side of his neck stuffed inside a large dome of water on his head. Also decorated webbed hands perfect for his next choice of action.
He had the kind of look that said he’d rolled out of bed not five minutes ago, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that belied his grogginess. He snatched a piece of crispy bacon directly from the pan with a cheeky grin. “Mornin’, Gambit. Smells like heaven in here,” he said, his teeth flashing white against his slightly stubbled jaw.
Remy rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Mornin’, petit voleur.”
Soon the swinging white kitchen door was pushed open with a sense of a job to do. In walked Scott, the big man of the team so Gambit called him behind his back.
Cyclops took a seat at the table, his visor already in place, the red beam flickering to life as he adjusted it. His uniform is still sleek, a color of blue and yellow known as long as gambit has been a part of the team.
Jean Grey followed closely behind, her fiery hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, a gentle warmth emanating from her. Despite their serious demeanors, there was a softness in their eyes when they saw the students happily enjoying their meals.
Remy greeted them with a knowing smile. “Looks like you two are raring tah’ go.” He nodded towards their uniforms.
Jean’s gaze softened as she took in the scene. “Are the little ones ready for Danger Room training today?” she asked gently nodding to gambit. Her voice was like a warm embrace, a stark contrast to the seriousness of her question.
Remy’s smile grew smugly as he placed the last plate of food on the table. “They’re more than ready, ma chère. They’ve been waiting for dis since dawn.” He gestured to the plates of food disappearing before their eyes. “Gambit figured he’d give dem a proper send-off for their first day in da’ big danger room.”
Scott stood the chair echoing a screech, hands on his hips with a smile plastered on his face. “Alright kiddos! Finish up your meal and meet me and Mrs. Jean in the danger room in 15.”
He spoke in an order as he did with his adult teammates but more enthusiastic like a primary teacher, much calmer than the harsh stern attitude he had with his usual bunch.
Soon he turned to leave, a hand drifting to jeans waist on her black and green fitted costume, both luring out to prepare the practice training program.
The students’ eyes grew wide with excitement, and the chatter grew louder as they scarfed down their breakfast. The mention of the Danger Room, a state-of-the-art training facility, was enough to make even the most stoic of them squirm in their seats. It was a rite of passage, a chance to prove themselves and learn their limits in a controlled environment.
Remy watched them, his own memories of his first day in the Danger Room flitting through his mind. Storm had invited him to be a x-man, sometimes he doubted her choice but in this moment he knew it was the right decision.
He called out over the din, “Alright, mon petites, you’ve got fifteen minutes tah’ scarf down dat grub and get dressed. Don’t make Cyclops wait, or he’ll send Gambit to get ya, and nobody wants dat!”
The room erupted into giggles, and the students bolted from their seats, scattering like a flock of birds at the sound of a predator. The clatter of dishes and chairs was music to his ears as they disappeared upstairs, leaving the kitchen to fall into a comforting silence.
Remy sighed contentedly, leaning against the cold marble counter as he surveyed the mess before him. It wasn’t often he had the kitchen to himself anymore.
He’d missed the simpler times before he became an X-man, sitting in his own safe house kitchen wherever he was hired to be. Cooking his meals before leaving for his hired work and deserved pay, sometimes not coming back to the safety of it until weeks later.
But as he looked around the large, industrial space that had become his new kitchen, he couldn’t deny the warmth that filled him here. This was his home now, these kids were his family, and the thought of them in any kind of danger, even in a controlled environment like the Danger Room, had his stomach in knots.
He laughed his nerves off as he always had, picking up syrup stained plates and forks. Stacked in a pile he turned to the sink, prepared with warm soapy water half way up the metal walls.
He dropped the dishes in, small droplets soaking into his black cut shirt; the darker pools fading with exposure to air as he washed the dishes with a sponge.
The swinging door creaked open once more, and in slipped Anna Marie, known as Rogue. Her eyes searched the room, looking for any signs of others or trouble before landing on him. She was dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt and gym shorts with dark leggings underneath, her gloved hands tucked into her pockets.
“Mornin, Suga,” she murmured sleepily, her Southern drawl a stark contrast to the chaos that had just left the room.
Remy’s gaze flickered over to her, a small smile playing on his lips. “Mornin’, chère. Did ya’ sleep well?”
Rogue nodded, her green eyes lighting up at the sight of the remaining breakfast. She slid into one of the empty seats, her eyes never leaving the food. “As good as ever, Ah’ guess. Did you make all this?” Her voice was syrupy, sleep still lingering on every word.
“Oui, chère. Figured with da’ étudiants early training session, they’d need ah’ good meal in der bellies before facing da’ Danger Room beasts,” he said with a wink and a smug smirk as his usual beat.
Rogue’s eyes grew wide, and she took a plate without asking, piling eggs and bacon onto it. “Good on ya, Suga. Did you manage to get any?”
Remy chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “Always save da’ best for last, non?” He grabbed a plate from the counter and placed it in front of her, filling it with food. “But ya’ up early today, non?”
Rogue shrugged, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. “Couldn’t sleep in. Too much on my mind.” She looked down to her food, pilling her fork and tapping it on the plate a few times.
Gambit’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the tension in her. He knew her well enough to know that she was holding something back. “Something ya wanna talk about?”
Rogue’s eyes shot up to meet his, and for a brief moment, she considered opening up. But the words remained lodged in her throat, unspoken. She simply shook her head and took a bite of her eggs. The taste of the perfectly seasoned food still steaming with heat seemed to soothe her a bit, and she let out a content smiled sigh.
Gambit knew better than to push, so he turned back to the sink, rinsing off the last of the dishes. He knew her history, the burden of her power that kept her from feeling a simple human touch without fear of stealing their life essence. It was a heavy weight to carry, one that made her touch-starved soul ache.
But today, something was different. Her eyes kept drifting to his bare arms, the muscles flexing with each movement. He felt her gaze like a warm caress, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
As the last plate was dried and put away, Remy turned to her. “Rogue, ya’ know you can talk to Gambit, non?” He stepped closer, his voice low and gentle. He tried to be reassuring, but comfort to gambit was something he didn’t know all too well.
Rogue took a deep breath, her eyes flickering over his chest before meeting his gaze.
“It’s just...the new bracelet Beast’s been workin’ on, ya’ know?” She spoke around a mouthful of food, her words muffled by the toast.
Gambit leaned against the counter, his curiosity piqued. “Da one dats supposed to let ya’ touch without...complications?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his tone light despite the gravity of the topic.
Rouge nodded, setting down her fork with a clank. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be safer than the collar. Beast says it’s almost ready.” Her voice was hopeful, but it carried an underlying tremor of doubt.
Gambit’s heart squeezed at the sight of her, so desperate for something so simple. He knew the pain of isolation all too well. “Well, if Hank says it’s ready, den it’s ready. He’s da’ best, non?”
Rogue nodded, taking another bite of her food, but her eyes remained on his. She chewed slowly, the silence between them stretching like a tightrope. Finally, she spoke up. “Could...could you help me with it?”
Remy paused, the towel in his hand mid-wave. He knew what she was really asking. It was more than just testing a new piece of equipment; it was about trust, about connection. He’d felt the same yearning in her eyes before, but it had always been unspoken. Now, it hung in the air between them, as palpable as the heat from the stove.
He stepped closer, his movements deliberate. He knew her power could be unpredictable, but he also knew the ache she felt for a simple touch. He reached out, his hand hovering near hers, the air crackling with potential energy. “If it’s what ya’ want, chère, den of course. Gambit here for ya’.”
Rogue’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation. When she found none, she gave a small nod with a faint smile on her pink lips. “Yeah, I’d...I’d like that. Thanks, Suga.”
Gambit returned her smile, but his stomach was a tangle of nerves. He’d been around Rogue long enough to know that touch meant the world to her.
With a deep breath, he turned back to the sink, rinsing off the last of the dishes. “Alright, chère. But first things first, Ah’ gotta’ finish cleanin’ up dis’ place. Don’t want Professor to catch dis in a mess, non?” His nerves stung, but his poker face stung better. He tried to push them down with his usual banter and comments.
The kitchen was silent except for the clank of metal against porcelain and the occasional dribble of water into the sink. Rogue watched him, her eyes never leaving his bare skin. The tension grew heavier by the second, thick like the humidity of the New Orleans air before a storm.
When the last dish was put away, Gambit turned to face her fully, wiping his hands on a towel. “Alright, chère, let’s go see what da’ good doctor has cooked up for ya’, shall we?”
Rogue nodded, her heart racing. She could feel the anticipation in every fiber of her being as she followed him out of the kitchen and down the hall. The mansion was eerily quiet, the only sounds being their footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor.