Chapter Text
Gambit
How do you make someone fall in love? No, scratch that. Love was never the problem. How do you make someone trust you after all you’ve done to make it damn clear they can’t? Jewels, money, really very dangerous alien technology, you name it—he could steal without a second thought. It was easy. A cake walk, really. But the trust and affection of another human being? That was different. This, Gambit didn’t know how to steal. And it was keeping him up at night like a man possessed.
Anna-Marie. He needed her like he needed oxygen to breathe—and he didn’t mean that in a crude way, though he wouldn’t exactly mind. He loved her madly. Ever since he met her, years ago now, he had been losing his ability to imagine a life without her beside him, without her laugh or the sweet tang in her voice, or the way her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. The freckles that trailed over her skin, or her red lipstick that he wanted all over his.
She loved him. That, he knew in his bones. But she didn’t trust him—and how could she? Remy Lebeau, the daring thief, the man nobody could ever pin down, the heartbreaker. Every time she started to let him into her heart, she drew away again, always keeping him an arms length away, at least.
He thought he knew why she was afraid. Her touch was lethal, or close to it. It was scary being in love with someone you couldn’t touch, but he had never minded, not even for a second. If the only way he could love her was gazing at her from across the room every night, he would take it in a heartbeat. He thought she knew that. So why was she always running away?
Trust. She didn’t believe him. How could he get her to believe him?
This was how Gambit found himself running for his life through a horrible sadistic maze of a mansion, with an awful lot of guards chasing his coattails. And a few dogs. They had guns but their aim was, luckily, not very good. And he was having the time of his life.
All he had to do was make it to the rooftop, and they’d never be able to catch him—but he’d taken something real special, something the lady of the house wanted back no matter what, so they definitely weren’t too keen on letting him get away. What they didn’t know, was that he already knew the whole floor plan of the house, give or take a few burglar traps that he’d gotten caught in along the way—and he was a hell of a lot faster than any of them. He’d already snuck in a few nights ago, just to scope things out. Back then, he didn’t even know what he was looking for. But a mansion this large had to have something good, and he was in the mood to snag something expensive and pretty enough to make a girl’s heart miss a beat. Bonus points if it looked good under a head of auburn hair. And then he saw it, trapped in its glass casing, glittering emerald. Irresistible.
So, how do you make a woman with abandonment issues trust you? Easy. You make it clear you aren’t going anywhere.
The guards were shouting at him now, and Gambit swore a bullet almost seared his cheek. His heart was pounding through his chest, and he grinned, taking a sharp turn down the next corridor. He loved the feel of his blood pumping through his veins, the thrill of it, the adrenaline. It wasn’t good for him, he knew. He had tried to leave his thieving days behind, many times, and it always pulled him back no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t help it, not when it made him feel like he was flying.
A few more gunshots, but he knew they couldn’t see him now. He was already up the stairs, tucked away in the darkest corner he could find. The dogs would sniff him out soon enough, but he would be long gone by then. As soon as the voices quieted below, the guards having gone the wrong way, Gambit stepped out. He checked the inside pocket of his coat. Glittering.
He hummed to himself and made his way to the next set of stairs, careful not to make a single sound. Mastering the art of walking silently was the most important thing to a thief. Luckily he had already learned that a very long time ago. Once he got to the roof, it was smooth sailing. People usually don’t expect a thief to be brazen enough to escape from the roof—it’s a one way trip all the way to the ground for most, but Gambit was far more acrobatic than most. He could jump from rooftop to rooftop until he was on the other side of town, and from there he’d make his way back home, before any of his housemates even realized he was gone.
Well, that was the plan. Until he made it to the rooftop door and found it bolted shut. Shit. It wasn’t like that a few days ago. What was this, some kind of emergency lockdown? There wasn’t even a handle or a lock. The whole door was covered in solid steel.
He heard voices again. Footsteps. Coming fast. Damn.
Gambit stumbled back down the stairs as quickly as he could, looking for somewhere to hide. Maybe he could trick them into thinking he’d already escaped, until the lockdown turned off. Would anyone be dumb enough to fall for that? No time to think. He turned into the first door he saw and shoved it shut behind him. It was pitch black in here—that couldn’t be a good sign. He felt around for a light switch, and caught what felt like a lamp under his fingertips. He pulled the string.
The good news was, he could see again. The bad news was that there was no way out of this room, and he could hear shouting outside the door. His stomach sank. Oh, god. Did he really screw himself like this? He was out of practice.
Time, that’s what he needed. More time to form a plan. Gambit shoved the nearest furniture—a large, gaudy armchair—in front of the door, and prayed no one heard the scraping against the floor. Even the windows were bolted, just like the door upstairs. It was a locked room. A locked mansion. The only way out was through, and he really didn’t want to have to fight today.
And then the far wall exploded inwards, and he was knocked off his feet. His cards were in his hands before he even knew what hit him, his heart hammering in his chest. A figure was hovering in the dust from the ruble, landing down through the entrance they had just made, the light from the lamp reflecting in her eyes. Emerald. A halo of white framing her pretty face. Rogue. His best friend.
First, Gambit dropped his cards, remembering to breathe. Second, he remembered that Rogue was a hero, and heroes don’t take much to criminal activity. And she was actively glaring daggers at him. He instantly regretted dropping his deck all over the floor.
“Remy,” she growled, walking towards him so quickly he fell back against the barricaded door, “what on earth are you doing?”
He liked Rogue when she was angry, too. It would be cute if she hadn’t just punched through a steel-enforced wall and was absolutely terrifying and could probably snap him like a twig if she wanted to. Though, being snapped in half by Rogue was a far more appealing way to go out than getting shot by the men outside.
“Jus’ havin’ some fun, mon coeur—what are you doin’ here?” Gambit lifted himself back onto his feet, bracing his arm against the chair behind his back. She didn’t have to know he always had an ace up his sleeve. “you followin’ me?”
“Course ah’m followin’ you! You’ve been actin’ real sketchy lately, sneaking out every night. You think ah ain’t gonna notice that?”
Her hands were on her hips, and she was still probably an inch above the ground as she moved closer to him. Gambit should have been ashamed, really—of getting caught in the act, found by one of his fellow X-men, no less. He should have jumped at the opportunity to explain himself, to try to find some moral reasoning to justify his ultimately selfish decisions. But he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t. All he could think, now, was how much he missed her. Anna-Marie. He hadn’t been near her in days. It had probably been weeks since she had willingly been in a room alone with him. Rogue had been avoiding him, and it hurt more than he could ever describe. He was really, painfully lonely. She was the only person in the world that he wanted to talk to—but she was always somewhere else. Somewhere he could never follow.
Right now all he could think was how badly he wanted to hold her. She was so close yet painfully far away. he still remembered what it felt like to lay his head against her hair, to breathe in the sweet floral scent that always followed her. Why did she always smell so good? It wasn’t fair. It made him lose his mind every time.
I love you, he wanted to say. Instead he said, “why you been watchin’ me, chere? You miss me?”
Rogue huffed, and he smiled, just a little. He always knew how to get under her skin, and she knew it. If making her flustered was all he could get from her, he’d take it.
“don’t be so proud of yourself, cajun. Ah know you been pullin’ these heists. What’re you thinking? What do you think everyone’s gonna think if word gets out that one of the x-men is stealin’ from innocent human folk?”
“Innocent ain’t the word,” Gambit said, “privileged, more like. And more than a little vicious.” he gestured to the door behind him. He was fairly sure they were about to burst through this door any minute now. The dogs were starting to bark. “You gon’ help me or not?”
“Give back what you stole, Gambit. Now.”
He knew he was a fool for not listening, but he couldn’t. He had something real special, and he had no intention of giving it up. At least, not to anyone other than its intended recipient.
“Can’t do that,” he said, reaching into his coat. “You see, the owner of this mansion is a real piece of work. She hates people like us. An’ she probably kicks puppies, too.”
“Remy.”
Always cold as ice. To him, that is. But Gambit always knew how to melt a woman’s heart.
He pulled his prize from his coat pocket, its gold glinting as soon as it hit the warm light. It was only for a moment, but he saw it unmistakably, how her eyes lit up as he held the necklace out, lifting it to peer at her through the chain of gold and jewels.
“Same color as your eyes,” he said. Brilliant emerald. He could look at her forever. For a second, he thought she would let him, until she broke the tension with a swipe at the necklace, and he pulled back, almost stumbling over the chair again.
“Scoundrel,” Rogue cursed, crossing her arms over her chest. He laughed and clutched the necklace back in his hand.
“D’you like it? It’s for you,” he said, “either you take it, or I’m makin’ a run for it an’ poaching this beauty to the first buyer I get.”
“Or ah take it from you now and return it to where it belongs, you swamp rat,” she glared again, but he saw the slight curve of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the look she always had when she was trying to make a bluff. She had a terrible poker face.
“You’d have to catch me first,” Gambit smiled, holding the necklace out again, hanging from the tips of his fingers, “an’ I don’t think you want to.”
Rogue was silent for a long moment, and then her eyes flicked up, fixed not on the necklace, but on him—and suddenly he was uneasy, his stomach sinking. It was getting too hot in here. He could feel it again, the adrenaline, the thrill making him restless.
“Try me,” she said, and he felt his heart stop. He realized in a matter of seconds that he had made the wrong gamble. He’d gotten ahead of himself, again, too distracted by the closeness and the sweet red in her cheeks and his own ego to remember the most obvious, important thing: Rogue was stubborn to the core.
Well, if she wanted to play tag, who was he to deny her?
Rogue reacted just a second too late—the lamp light shattered with a small explosion, an easy enough trick with the ace of hearts he slipped from his coat sleeve, and they were in darkness again, Gambit already running for the broken wall. It was the perfect escape route, and she made it just for him.
“Remy!” He heard her curse again, but he had already leapt from the window. When dealing with a woman one step short from being a goddess, you needed a head start.
As soon as he caught air, he scanned his surroundings for something to catch on to—a gutter on the side of the building. He crashed against the outside wall for only a second before holding on to the gutter, using his feet as leverage to slide all the way to the ground. He may have disoriented Rogue for a moment, but she was on his tail now, shooting from the hole in the wall just above him. And oh, she was angry. If she wasn’t mad before, she definitely was now.
This was the most fun he’d had in ages.
Gambit could never outrun Rogue’s speed. He really would be a fool if he thought he even had a chance. But that was assuming they were playing fair—playing dirty was always more fun, anyways.
He stepped away from the wall, never taking his eyes off of her. She was midair, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, and she looked like she wanted to kill him. But, unluckily for her, he knew all of her tells. He had spent a lot of time watching Rogue fight—and he saw the exact moment her body shifted, her legs pulling upwards and her fists raising, and he knew it meant she was about to plow right into him. And that’s exactly what she did. She charged through the air towards him like a missile, impossibly fast and probably just as destructive.
And then his metal staff extended from his coat and into his hands the second before she could slam him into the ground, and he swung it into her side as hard as he could, using the force to leap away as Rogue crashed face-first into the dirt.
Did he feel bad? Yes. Was it going to stop him from running away and leaving her in a ditch? No. She would be up again within the minute anyway. She was probably more durable than the earth itself.
“Sorry, sweetness,” he said, before running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. This was without a doubt the least sneaky escape he had ever made, but since the second Rogue showed her face, he found his priorities changed. He leapt over the mansion fence, hearing the yells and footsteps of the mansion guards breaking through the front door behind him. He’d have to give it to them—they were more stubborn than he expected. They probably didn’t expect an x-man to blow a massive hole in their wall, either.
A crowd was forming just outside the property boundaries, flocking to the noise like moths to a flame. Everyone loves a good show. The pedestrians only flinched away from Gambit slightly as he charged into the throng, weaving his way towards the street to lose his pursuers in the crowd. It worked, but not for long. He leapt into the street directly in front of a car, swerving out of the way just in time and screeching to a stop. Taxi. Lucky timing. He grabbed the back door and flung it open.
“Get goin’, mon ami!” He pulled himself into the back seat and slammed the door shut, the taxi driver staring anxiously back at him.
“Why are they chasing you?” The driver said, a severely exhausted looking middle aged man. Must’ve been a rough day.
Gambit tossed a handful of cash into the front seat. He didn’t know how much it was. It didn’t matter. “I’m one of the good guys,” he said, and it was only partially a lie, “get me to the other side of town, fast!”
The driver didn’t have to be told twice. He slammed on the gas pedal, the car taking off down the road. Gambit watched from the rear window as the mansion, and his pursuers, faded into the distance. He let his body sink into the seat, taking a deep breath, and checked the inside of his coat. The necklace was still where it was supposed to be. He sighed, feeling more than a little disappointed. Of course he knew that Rogue wasn’t the kind of woman to be bribed with shiny, stolen objects, no matter how pretty they were. She was selfless through and through. But it didn’t stop him from wanting her to. Just once, he hoped she would take something for herself, just because she wanted to. He wanted her to be selfish.
He could always sell the necklace. Maybe he’d use the money to buy her dinner, if she’d let him. And a lot more things. She wouldn’t have to know it was dirty money. Though it might take a bit of convincing after his stunt back there.
It would be best to stay out for the rest of the night, give Rogue space to cool off and chalk all of this up to another one of his poor decisions. Heading straight home would only cause more problems. Gambit glanced back out the window, watching the city roll by in a blur of bright lights and colors. His heart was slowing, finally, the adrenaline high beginning to fade. And there it was again—that sinking feeling, that ache somewhere in his chest that just wouldn’t go away. He could forget about it, sometimes. Distract himself with heists and excitement and temporary highs. But it was always there, just underneath, waiting for him to come back down. Every time somehow felt worse than the last.
Then he saw her, and he came back to life. And almost had a heart attack.
Rogue was chasing the car. Chasing him. And she was flying fast.
“Drive faster,” he shouted to the driver, tearing his eyes away from her—and then the roof caved in, and he had the sinking feeling that the car wasn’t touching the ground anymore. The car rocked sharply onto its side, and Gambit crashed against the far door. He regretted not wearing his seatbelt.
Rogue was on the other side of the window, holding the car up in the air with one hand. Dear god, she was amazing. Gambit stared, stunned, for only a moment, before she reached out and pulled the door open—and he plummeted right out onto the hard asphalt road.
He wheezed, hard. The fall knocked the air right out of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rogue gently place the car back down. The driver didn’t wait to take off again, and Gambit couldn’t even blame the guy. Then she was standing over him, her boots planted on either side of his body. She bent over and grabbed him by the collar of his coat, lifting him easily off the ground.
“You weasel,” she said, glaring at him so hard he thought she might find a way to shoot lasers from her eyes, “you thought y’could leave me in a ditch?”
“Sorry bout’ that,” Gambit coughed, trying to smile but finding himself unable to focus on anything other than Rogue’s lips, much too close to his face, “…you did start it.”
“You started it, you darn fool! I’m takin’ your ass back home, now. Everyone else knows you’ve been gone. How are you gonna try to explain this?”
No. Not yet. He really didn’t want to go home yet. Not when she was looking at him like that, not when it felt like old times again, when she wasn’t so afraid to be near him, to love him. Before she realized that being in love was terrifying. She would take him back and then never speak to him again, not until she had to. He lifted his hands and grabbed hold of hers, and in an instant her gloves glowed violet, and she flinched backwards.
The blast was blinding. It wasn’t supposed to be so big. He expected her to drop him, but what he didn’t expect was the kick she leveled square in his face, sending him rolling down the steep cliff beside the road. The blow was more than disorienting. He might as well have been hit by a truck.
Gambit stumbled, trying to get up and regain his balance. He covered his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. He felt like his head had been split open. Maybe it had.
Rogue descended down in front of him, her fury clear all over her face. Her gloves were gone. He’d blown them up, to be specific. He knew it wouldn’t really hurt her. No, not Rogue. She was indestructible. But he did keep finding ways to make her angrier.
“Damn, girl,” he hissed, stumbling back, almost tripping on the uneven ground, “I thought we was jus’ playin’!”
“You hit me with a metal pole, Remy!” She cursed, throwing her hands out. He pulled his hand away from his face. Shit. Covered in blood.
“That’s different,” he mumbled, the sight of his blood making him lightheaded, “I don’ got no super strength. I don’… I don’ feel too good,” he stumbled again, this time falling back against the grass.
Rogue was kneeling over him immediately. Her fury was gone. She looked scared. Real scared. He shouldn’t have riled her up. He didn’t care about himself, not even when everything was going blurry and he could hardly see her, but the look in her eyes now made him regret everything. “Remy, ah—ah didn’t… ah didn’t mean to—“ She was stuttering, panic taking over behind her eyes. She reached for his face and stopped when she remembered her gloves were gone, fumbling and planting her bare hands in the grass on either side of his head instead, “ah didn’t mean it, Remy, you scared me!”
Gambit groaned, his head lolling to the side. “Course’ not,” he mumbled, “you never wan’ to hurt a fly…”
“Ah’m gonna get you home,” Rogue said as she tried to lift his head up to wrap her arm around his back, “Beast will fix you right up, ah know he will—Remy, don’t pass out, please.”
He wrapped his arms around her neck, and she froze as he brushed her hair over her shoulder. She smelled so sweet. He was right. The necklace did look good under a head of auburn hair.
“I win,” he said, before falling into her arms and blacking out.