Rogue stirred first, the early morning light filtering in through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls. She felt Remy’s arm draped lazily over her waist, his body curled up close behind her. His warmth was a welcome comfort, something she had grown to treasure in the moments they could share like this.
For so long, she had believed that touch—real, physical touch—would never be possible. Not for her. Her powers had seen to that, turning every fleeting moment of contact into a potential danger. But with Remy, things had been different. He’d never shied away from the risk, always finding some way to get close without crossing her boundaries. And now, with the power inhibitors, they had been able to share a life she never thought possible.
It wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But there were mornings like this, where they could pretend, if only for a little while, that they were just another couple waking up together.
She shifted slightly, feeling his arm tighten instinctively around her waist, pulling her closer. His breath was warm against her neck, his presence so familiar now that she couldn’t imagine waking up any other way.
“Mmm, chère,” he mumbled sleepily, his Cajun accent even thicker in the early hours. “Don’t be movin’ yet. Too early.”
Rogue chuckled softly, her hand brushing over his arm, tracing the lines of muscle as if to remind herself that this was real. “We gotta get up sometime, Remy. World don’t stop just ‘cause you’re lazy.”
He hummed, the sound vibrating low in his chest, sending a shiver down her spine. “Ain’t nothin’ in dis world worth gettin’ outta bed for, ‘cept maybe you.” He nuzzled his face into her hair, his lips grazing the back of her neck in a featherlight kiss.
Rogue smiled, but it was a soft, bittersweet smile. This... this closeness was what she had wanted for so long. And yet, even now, with the inhibitors allowing them to touch, there was always that lingering fear. The fear that one day it wouldn’t be enough. That one day, the pain would outweigh the connection.
“Don’t go gettin’ all romantic on me, LeBeau,” she teased lightly, though there was no heat in her words. “You know I ain’t the type.”
Gambit grinned against her skin, his hand lazily tracing circles over her stomach. “Oh, I know. But it’s alright. I got enough romance for the both of us.”
She sighed, leaning back into his warmth, allowing herself this moment. Just for now. The pain in her wrists was still a distant hum, a reminder of the price she paid to keep him close, but she ignored it. What mattered was here, now. In this bed, in this quiet moment, where they could just be.
Their relationship had never been simple. Rogue had tried to push him away more times than she could count, and every time, Remy had come back, persistent as ever. There was something about him—his unwavering loyalty, his infuriating charm—that made it impossible for her to stay away, no matter how much she wanted to.
He’d always been the risk-taker, the one who threw caution to the wind and followed his heart wherever it led him. And for reasons she still didn’t quite understand, it had led him to her. She wasn’t easy. She wasn’t safe. But he stayed anyway.
Rogue closed her eyes, her fingers gently interlacing with his where they rested on her stomach. “You ever wonder what it’d be like... if none of this were a problem?”
His voice was still thick with sleep, but there was a note of seriousness in it now. “What you mean, chère?”
“If I didn’t have to wear these damn inhibitors all the time. If we could... y’know. Just be.”
Remy shifted slightly, his arm tightening around her as he spoke. “I think ‘bout it all the time. But you know somethin’? Ain’t no point in wonderin’. We got what we got. An’ I’m grateful for every second of it.”
His words settled over her, warming her in a way the sunlight never could. She knew he meant it. That was the thing about Remy—he always meant it. But there was still that part of her, deep down, that wished things were different. That wished she didn’t have to choose between this closeness and her own comfort.
The inhibitors weren’t a perfect solution. They let her touch without fear, but they came with a cost. A cost that was becoming harder to ignore.
Rogue shifted again, this time pulling herself upright, the morning air cool against her skin. She winced as the ache in her wrists flared up, more insistent now that she was awake. Remy sat up too, his eyes narrowing as he caught the small movement of pain.
“Cherie,” he said quietly, his voice now fully awake, concern etched into every syllable. “Them inhibitors givin’ you trouble again?”
She forced a smile, brushing it off like she always did. “It’s nothin’, Remy. I’m fine.”
But the lie hung in the air between them, heavy and unconvincing. And Gambit, for all his charm and easygoing nature, wasn’t one to be fooled. He reached out, his fingers grazing over her wrist where the inhibitor lay, the faint glow of its power barely visible in the morning light.
“Don’t look like nothin’,” he said softly. “You been wearin’ these things too long. You know dat.”
Rogue pulled her wrist away, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “What else can I do, Remy? I cant hurt you or anyone else, so I gotta wear them.”
“I think,” he said, his voice steady but filled with concern, “you don’t need to be hurtin’ yourself just to keep me close. Ain’t worth it, chère. Not if it’s costin’ you this much.”
She turned away from him, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield against the truth of his words. “I don’t know any other way. These things... they let me have a life. They let me be with you.”
“Rogue,” he whispered, stepping closer, his hand hovering near her face but not quite touching. “You ain’t gotta keep sacrificin’ yourself. Not for me.”
Her throat tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on her in a way that made her want to scream and cry all at once. He didn’t get it. He never fully got it. The inhibitors weren’t just for him—they were for everyone. For her.
“I’ll be fine,” she repeated, her voice firmer this time. “Just... give me a minute.”
Gambit watched her, his eyes softening, but there was something in his expression that told her he wasn’t done with this conversation. Not by a long shot, but he didn’t push. Not yet, anyway. He stood up, moving toward the kitchen with a stretch. “Well, I’m makin’ dat coffee, then. Ain’t nobody gonna make it as good as ol’ Remy can.”
Rogue watched him go, that familiar mix of frustration and fondness rising in her chest. He had a way of brushing things off that always got under her skin, but she knew why. It was easier for him to pretend everything was fine than deal with the weight of what wasn’t. Easier to flirt and joke his way through life than face the fact that nothing about their situation was normal.
She stood up, wincing at the pull in her arms. The inhibitors always felt heavier in the morning, like the weight of the day ahead pressed down on her before it even started. But it was the price she paid for control. For the illusion of normalcy. She had to keep telling herself that.
Gambit was already at the stove, whistling some half-tune she didn’t recognize as he brewed the coffee, his back turned to her. Rogue walked over slowly, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.
“You ever think about what we’d do if these things stopped workin’?” she asked, her voice quiet, eyes on the floor.
Gambit paused, just for a second, before he turned around with that same crooked smile he always wore. “Ain’t gonna happen, chère. We got dat fancy tech from Beast, and if it breaks, we’ll figure it out. Ain’t no use worryin’ ‘bout somethin’ dat ain’t happened yet.”
Rogue’s lips tightened into a thin line, her frustration creeping back in. “Yeah, well, easy for you to say. You ain’t the one wearin’ ‘em.”
He leaned against the counter opposite her, his arms folded over his chest, eyes meeting hers. “Rogue, we don’t have to do it like dis. You wearin’ dem things all day, every day, it ain’t healthy. You know dat, I know dat. Don’t gotta keep pretendin’.”
Her green eyes flickered with something between guilt and defiance. “What’s the alternative, Remy? Take ‘em off and risk hurtin’ you? Everyone else? I’d rather deal with the pain than live with that.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to something softer, almost pleading. “You ain’t gonna hurt me, chère. I trust you.”
“That’s the problem,” she whispered, eyes downcast. “I don’t trust me.”
They stood in silence, the only sound the gentle gurgle of the coffee machine behind them. Gambit watched her, his usual bravado fading into something more real, more vulnerable. He reached for her hand again, brushing his fingers lightly against hers, careful not to press too hard against the inhibitor.
“I know you don’t like hearin' dis, but maybe today we take a break, non? You take ‘em off for a few hours, let your body rest. We’ll be careful, I promise.”
Rogue bit her lip, the pain in her wrists sharp now, nearly unbearable. She didn’t want to admit how much it hurt, how much she needed a break. But the fear of what could happen if she lost control was stronger.
“Just a few hours,” Gambit coaxed, his voice a soothing hum. “I’ll be right here the whole time. Ain’t gonna let nothin’ bad happen.”
Her heart raced at the thought, but the pain… it was too much. She couldn’t keep ignoring it. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.
“Alright,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “But just for a little while.”
Gambit smiled, not the cocky grin he usually wore, but something softer, more genuine. “That’s my girl.”
With shaky hands, Rogue reached for the inhibitor on her wrist, fingers hesitating at the clasp. Gambit stayed close, his presence a steady reassurance. She took a deep breath, then unfastened it.
Instant relief flooded through her body, the sharp pain fading into a dull ache, then disappearing altogether. She exhaled shakily, leaning against the counter for support.
Gambit stayed where he was, his eyes on her, but he didn’t move closer. He didn’t have to. Just knowing he was there was enough.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she said, though her voice wavered. “I’m fine.”
He nodded, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Told ya. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”
Rogue looked at him, her heart still pounding in her chest. For now, it was fine. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t last.
And Gambit, for all his confidence, couldn’t shake it either.