25Chapter 12: December 24 & 25
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
"I swear to God, Remy, if you don't stop running around, I'm gonna nail your feet to the floor!"
Remy rolls his eyes, but he does stop. "I'm not running, Kitty, I'm walking. Very slowly, in fact."
She crosses her arms and glares at him. "Yeah, well, yesterday, you were lying in bed and couldn't keep your eyes open for longer than five minutes, so forgive me for being skeptical!"
He gestures to the front door. "Remy just want to get the package, okay?" It's just sitting out there on the front porch. How it got there is sort of a mystery, actually, because Remy's pretty sure nobody has opened the gate for strangers in the past week. Having your home invaded by a bunch of commandos trying to kidnap you and all your friends to run creepy experiments on them will do that to you. Logan probably hasn't slept since that night. Not that Remy would know. Sleeping's all that Remy has been doing.
"Package?" Kitty perks up. "I'll get it for you." She darts off to the door before he can protest and comes back with the medium-sized box in hand. "What is it?" she asks, handing it over.
"It's for Rogue," he says.
"Oooh, you finally decided what to get for her!"
And thank God and Tante Mattie it's gotten here in time. Remy's gonna have to make it up to her big time for the quick turn-around on this one.
"Look out below!" A trail of ice shoots past Remy's feet, spreading over the floor of the mansion's foyer. Bobby comes skating down gracefully, arms laden with presents. "Gotta get everything under the tree!" he yells gleefully. Some of the presents look like they were wrapped by a blind T-rex, which is how Remy knows Bobby put actual effort into the gifts.
"Ugh, watch it!" Kitty shouts after him. She turns to look at Remy, who is leaning on the banister to try to look like he's not catching his breath just from walking down the stairs. "Come on," she sighs, coming over and putting her shoulder under his arm. "Let me walk you back."
He grins at her. "Merci, belle."
"Yeah, yeah."
When she deposits him in front of his room, she hesitates, frowning a little. Remy waits, warily. That's her thinking face. It's a little scary.
"Just spit it out, KitKat," he says.
"Are you ever going to tell Rogue how you feel about her?" she blurts out. Remy freezes, glancing around quickly in case Rogue had suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the two seconds since he had last turned around.
"Uh," he says, to buy time. Now it's Kitty's turn to roll her eyes.
"Seriously?" she says. "I think it's time. Like, if you're still worried about whether or not she likes you, I think that ship has sailed. Long gone. I mean, she was really torn up about you being unconscious and mostly dead and all that for three days. She never left the infirmary except when Emma threatened to make out with Logan in front of her."
Remy makes a face.
"I know," Kitty says. "Totally gross. Anyway, I think it's pretty obvious that Rogue cares a lot about you, Remy. Ball's in your court, you know?"
He swallows. "Remy knows."
Kitty throws her hands in the air. "Then what's the problem?"
"Warren –" he starts.
"Oh, come on!" Kitty explodes. "You can't seriously still be sulking because Warren drove Rogue home from the store like forever ago! Remy, just because Warren is handsome and generous and nice and relatively normal for a mutant, doesn't mean that Rogue likes him more than you! I don't know if you've noticed or not, but Rogue is not normal!"
"Hey," Remy protests, mildly, but Kitty steamrolls right over him.
"She's really weird, okay! You two are like, perfect for each other, honestly, because you both have the same weird sense of humor and you like the same music and I know you two have dumb little southerner inside jokes that the rest of us don't get. You're both total weirdos, but like, you're also my two best friends, so I really want you to get your head out of your butt and just let yourselves be happy already!"
Remy is touched. She's really passionate about this.
"Aw," he says, beaming at her.
She rolls her eyes again. "Shut up."
"No, I mean it," he says. "That was really beautiful."
Kitty groans. "Just… man up and stop beating around the bush," she orders. "Tell her how you feel."
Remy finally takes pity on her and raises the box in his hand as proof. "Way ahead of you, KitKat."
"Good." She looks relieved as she turns to flounce away.
"Thanks, bestie," he calls after her. She flips him off without looking back.
000
The thing about saving your home from an invasion the week before Christmas, Jean muses, is that inevitably there will be the need to redecorate. At least a little bit.
Do we have to? Scott asks in her head. He sounds very reasonable, which is how Jean knows she's probably on the brink of unreasonable. They have a system, she and Scott. Only one of them gets to be unreasonable at a time.
It's possible that she's been hogging the unreasonableness for a while, she thinks, guiltily.
Don't worry about it, Scott soothes. He's across the foyer, rehanging garlands from the upper landing of the stairs. He looks over and shoots her a smile. I know Christmas is stressful for you. I don't mind letting you take point on this one.
She's really lucky to have Scott.
I'm really lucky to have you, she tells him.
She gestures and the new Christmas ornaments float gently into the air and start arranging themselves on the tree. Most of the decorations survived, she's glad to note.
"I'm just saaaaying," Jamie whines in chorus with himself. Six Jamies walk into the room with their arms full of boxes, trailed by Rahne, not carrying anything, and Ray and Jubilee, also not carrying anything. Jean considers mentioning that forcing the thirteen-year-old to use his mutation to carry everything is not the most ethical use of the great responsibility that comes with having great powers, but she knows it's basically a lost cause.
"I'm just saying," Jamie says, dropping the load of boxes under the tree, "that you guys should have woken us up! We totally could have helped!"
"Nuh-uh," Ray retorts. "No little kids needed to get in the middle of that."
"We're thirteen!" Rahne says, outraged.
"Yeah, that's tiny," Tabby teases, trooping in followed by Amara, thankfully carrying their own boxes. Roberto went home three days ago, mournfully bidding the others farewell. To watch them all hugging and jumping up and down and crying on each other's shoulders, you'd think he was leaving forever, instead of for two weeks.
Do you think the kids are a bit codependent? Jean asks Scott.
Oh yeah, he replies. She winces.
"I am not tiny!" Rahne is yelling, and then she's shifting, and a wolf chases Tabby around the foyer while Amara and Jubilee cackle obnoxiously.
"Isn't that lovely to hear?" a voice says. The professor stops next to her, watching the kids run around.
"What is?" she asks.
He beams. "They're laughing. It's lovely to hear."
It is. "Merry Christmas, professor," she says.
"Almost, Jean," he replies. "Almost."
000
Remy finds Rogue on the lawn, wearing a toque hat and eyeing the sky critically. She smiles when she sees him.
"Should you be walkin' around yet?" she asks.
"Aw, chere, don't you start now," he groans, stuffing his hands into his pockets. She laughs, coming over and grabbing his arm.
"Alright, alright," she says, leaning her head on his shoulder. "What are you doing out here? Come to see the snow?" She smirks, waving at the yard, which is covered in a very thin layer of frost.
"Aha, not exactly," he says, awkwardly. God, what's wrong with him? Remy is not an awkward man. He is strong and sensitive and clever and charming and suave. He straightens up and turns to face Rogue, taking his hands out of his pockets. "I uh, I wanted to talk to you."
She looks up at him, still smiling. At Remy. He can't believe she's still smiling at him, but he wants to do whatever he has to in order to make her keep smiling at him forever.
"About what?" she asks, tilting her chin up. She blinks against the sunshine and the light catches the sparkle in her eyes. She's so beautiful. She looks… hopeful?
Suddenly, his mouth is dry. His heart is racing. Come on, Remy. People confess their love every day, and most of them aren't even smooth-talking, Cajuns with hearts of gold and smoldering gazes of devilish handsomeness. He can do this.
"Uh, Warren," he says.
Rogue blinks. "Huh?" she says, looking confused.
God, how do people do this? Is he sweating? He feels like he's sweating. It's freezing out here, but he's sweating.
"Do you like him?" he asks, all at once, which is not what he wanted to say at all, but also, for some stupid, stupid reason, he can't get past it. He can't get over the idea that he might not be what Rogue wants, that maybe what she wants is someone like Warren, someone smart and rich and nice and sophisticated. A literal Angel. Remy would die before he stands in the way of what Rogue wants. Even… even if that isn't him.
"Like Warren?" she repeats, sounding bewildered. "I mean… sure, I like him just fine."
"But do you like him," Remy asks.
Rogue laughs. "What is this, third grade? Are you asking if I like-like Warren?"
Remy pouts. It's an excellent pout, he has it on good authority. "Oui," he says, stubbornly, and Rogue stops laughing.
"You…" she stares at him, mouth dropping open. Her lips are dark purple. Remy wants to kiss her so badly. "You're serious."
He scowls. "You telling Remy that you don't have any feelings about that cockatoo?"
She snorts. "Cockatoo, really?" Remy glares at the ground.
"You didn't answer," he says, sulkily.
"Because it's ridiculous!" she shrieks. "You idiot, the answer is no, of course not! Warren is a nice guy, an old friend, that's all! Why are you asking me all this? Are you –" she stops short, staring at Remy, and he feels his heart swoop in his chest. She's figured it out. Of course she has, Rogue is brilliant. She's figured it out, she's figured him out, and all of a sudden Remy feels… seen. Known.
It's terrifying.
"Are you… Remy are you jealous of Warren?" Rogue asks, slowly.
His tongue is too thick. He's going to mess this up. He can see it in her face. She knows the answer and worse – or best – she knows the why behind the answer. He can't hide it anymore. This is it.
"Yeah," he says. "I am."
Her voice is breathless as she asks, "Why?"
Remy looks down at her, beautiful, incandescent, gorgeous Rogue, who is somehow (somehow) looking at him, Remy LeBeau, like he's something special, and he takes a chance that suddenly feels much more of a sure thing than it ever has before.
"I think you know why, chere," he says softly, and then he leans in.
She meets him halfway, like she's ready for it, like she's been waiting for it, and they kiss, lips sliding against each other gently, then firmer, searching, wanting to taste. They kiss in the sunshine, while the winter frost glistens on the lawn and the faint strains of Christmas tunes drift through the air. It's a magical moment.
Kind of sucks that Scott has to poke his stupid head up from wherever he's been lurking to exclaim, "Uh, Rogue! Should you be doing that?" but as Remy's eyes start to roll back in his head and Roguey's fingers start glowing magenta, he concedes that Scott maybe does have a point.
Ew. That is not what Remy wants to think about right now.
Still.
"Worth it," he says, smiling his most charming smile, as Rogue's grimace turns into a giggle and she catches him right before he hits the ground.
000
Christmas, Rogue thinks the next morning, just wouldn't be Christmas without someone being – gently – scolded for some dumb thing they did that was dangerous or stupid or both. Truly, it wouldn't feel like Christmas at the Institute without Professor Xavier's "I'm not mad, just disappointed" lecture.
Granted, said lecture isn't usually being directed towards her, which Rogue can say she definitely does not prefer. It's way better when Logan's getting it, because a) she can enjoy it in a schadenfreude kind of way, and b) Logan truly could not give less of a crap. Win-win situation.
But even still, she thinks, finally escaping from the professor's genial admonishment and making her way back downstairs to join everyone else, it was worth it.
Worth it for Remy's face, lighting up like a candle when he sees her walking in. For the way he holds out his hand, carefully gloved, for her to take, drawing her in to sit beside him on what Kurt calls "the Christmas couch" (it's just a couch, but they only pull it in from the other room so there's enough seats for everyone on Christmas morning).
Worth it for Kitty's shy grin, tucked into Piotr's side, winking at Rogue like she thinks she had something to do with all the happiness that Rogue might just explode with any second now.
Worth it for Kurt, racing in followed by Bobby and Toad and Lance and Fred, for Scott and Jean coming in with Logan and the professor, for Wanda and Pietro, pulled into the middle of it all despite themselves, for all of the young kids, piled together on one sofa, arguing, laughing together, enjoying themselves immensely, all of these people who Rogue can't believe she's so lucky to call her family.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Remy whispers in her ear. She leans her head into his, grateful for the beanie she's wearing that means she won't knock him out for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. That would just be embarrassing.
Speaking of embarrassing… she flushes, but no one is really paying attention to them, so she whispers back, "I was thinking… I was thinking that I love you, Remy."
His breath catches, and she feels just a little bit smug that she (her! Rogue! Gothy, weirdo Rogue!) can take Remy LeBeau's breath away.
"I love you, too, chere," he says, out loud, for everyone to hear. Rogue sits up straight, blushing hard, but nobody makes fun, even though she can tell Tabitha desperately wants to.
"Guess we better get a move on, chere," Remy says, grinning at her. He reaches over and grabs a box, handing it to her and gesturing for her to open it. Bobby, Amara, Ray, Jubilee, Tabby, Jamie, Rahne, Kurt, Toad, Fred, Lance, and, inexplicably, Scott start a drum roll, which then makes Remy blush, so they're both sitting there, faces bright red, as she starts picking at the wrapping paper. Remy shifts impatiently.
"Come on, just open it," he complains playfully. Rogue smirks and shoves aside the wrapping paper. And then she gasps. Everyone else looks up.
The trench coat in the box is brand new, soft canvas, large lapels. She pulls it out and stands up, holding it out to swing it over her shoulders. It fits perfectly.
"Oh, Remy, I love it!" she says.
"Oh great, there's two of them," Jean mutters. Rogue ignores her. She's just jealous that she doesn't have the most perfect trench coat in the world.
"What's the big deal with this coat?" Kitty asks, perching on the edge of the couch. She's rolling her eyes, wrinkling her nose.
Rogue locks eyes with Remy, who shrugs, grinning. "Y'all just don't get it," she says.
"Obviously," Piotr and Kitty say at the same time. Gross. They've been dating for like, a week. Rogue hopes they're disgustingly happy together. She looks around at them all, her friends, her family, and then at Remy, whose eyes are shining like Christmas lights.
"Y'all make me believe in true love," she says, and then has to duck because everyone is throwing wrapping paper at her and shouting at her for saying something so sickeningly sweet.
It's a good morning. It's a good Christmas.
And as she catches Remy's gaze again from the center of the wrapping paper fight that's broken out, she thinks it's definitely about to be a happy new year, too.
…twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree!
A/N: I can't believe it's done…
To anyone still reading this fic, after all these years, thank you so much. I am truly honored and grateful that you're here. In the future, I'll post fics on AO3 instead of this site, so you can find me there by the same name if you care to (cannot promise X-Men, though). Happy Holidays, always, and I hope you have all enjoyed this fic, even though it has taken so much longer than I ever dreamed it would.
Thank you.
-e.