“Well, fancy meeting you here, chére.” Gambit’s low voice whispered in your ear and you jumped. You crossed your arms and turned to face him.
“Of course I’m here; it’s Jean and Scotts wedding. We’re all here!” you gave him a playful glare and he held out a hand.
“Dance with me, chére. You’ve been sitting there watching all evening, and I’d be honored to have the most beautiful fille on my arm.”
“Well, with a line like that, how could I refuse?” You stood and took his hand. He led you to the dance floor and placed his other hand on your waist. The DJ was playing some overly romantic song, but the venue was out doors and the scenery was beautiful.
The evening was warm and the air was sweet with the smell of flowers. The ceremony had been perfect; Jean had never looked more flawless (which was saying something), and by now everyone had had a few drinks. You and Remy began to sway together.
You had been dreaming of a moment like this for a long time, but now that it was here, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. You kept your focus on almost anything but the man in front of you, other couples, the DJ, the flowers, his tie, anything. Gambit noticed.
“Chére? Are you alright?” your eyes snapped to his and the blush you’d been attempting to suppress flushed your cheeks.
“Oh I’m fine. I just haven’t done this sort of thing in a really long time. I don’t want to step on your feet or anything.” The words came out in a rush, and Gambit chuckled,
“Don’t worry so much, chére! You’re doing fine.” You ducked your head, “Come on, look at me with those beautiful eyes.” You looked up at him and stuck your tongue out a little.
“Oh don’t tease me, Remy.” A grin took over his face.
“I would never lie to a lady as magnifique as yourself! I am simply speaking the truth.” You giggled nervously,
“You absolute flirt! I know all about your suave charm!” He spun you out and drew you back into a dip.
“Are you sure about that, chére?” his voice was low, and his strange, dark eyes were positively smoldering at you. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt your blush darken. As he drew you up, you cleared your throat and gained control of yourself again,
“You are a terrible tease; you know that, monsieur LaBeau?” Gambit’s brows rose at the French and a terribly attractive smirk made its way onto his face. He leaned down till his lips were right beside your ear and whispered,
“Oh, oui chére, et je sais que vous l’aimez.” The French hit your ears and a shiver ran down your spine. Your breath hitched again.
“You should not be allowed to speak French.” You breathed out. Gambit’s brows rose at your words.
“And why’s that, chére?” his face was close to yours; his eyes burning into your own. And in that same breathy tone you whispered,
“Because it makes me want to do crazy things like this.” You reached up and kissed him. You just let yourself enjoy the electricity running up and down your body for a moment, but pulled away slightly to let him escape if he needed to. You felt him stiffen and somewhere in your hazy brain you braced for the worst. His arms tightened to wrap around your back and his lips connected to yours again. His kiss was strong and greedy and perfect. You dug your hands into his hair and let yourself melt into the kiss. He moved a hand to cup your face. You tingled like he’d charged you with kinetic energy. He tasted warm and sweet like the wedding champagne. You parted, breathing hard, your gaze never leaving each other’s.
The reverie was broken by a piercing wolf whistle. You jumped (still clutched in Gambit’s arms) and turned to see almost the whole party looking at you two with huge grins. The group broke out in cheers and whistles. You felt yourself blush twelve shades of red. Beast was lowering his fingers from his lips as he had been the whistler, and Rouge was doubled over laughing. She paused long enough to yell,
“Darlin, he’s wanted to do that for months and you still had to kiss him first!”