A Promise and An Admission
Jun. 27th, 2015 09:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: A Promise and An Admission
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Romy (Rogue/Remy)
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo: Family
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 828
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He sits with his arm wrapped around her, overlooking the lush, green backyard of the mansion they've somehow come to call home in these last few years. He never thought he'd really live in a place like this; it's so much grander than even the best of places where he grew up. She sighs. She's even wearier than he, but her body remains rigid underneath his touch.
He knows she's afraid that she may somehow make skin contact with him; even the brushing of her long hair, which he knows must be as soft as silk, over his fingers could be deadly. It doesn't matter that they both yearn for it, not here, not now, not tonight, not after all the suffering she's been put through today. So instead of talking, instead of turning her ear and making her heart beat harder with his usual, sly flirtations, he settles for the comfortable silence between them and turns his red eyes on the sun.
It's setting, and he can almost see the moon rising in its globular glow. He's heard the sun described many ways. He can see the giant ball, and the egg, this evening. On a normal day, he might try to coin a new phrase for it, or at least determine what it is it most resembles, but not today. Even his mind is tired, and he aches not just from the physical fight to get Rogue back where she belongs but for her, as well.
He and his family have always had their problems, but at least, he never had a mother like Mystique. She held a gun to her own daughter's head today, and although Rogue claimed that she knew she would never shoot her, he had seen the uncertainty flicker, for just a second, in her beautiful, emerald eyes. The thought that those emeralds might be stolen him forever had been almost too much for him to bear without stammering like the lovesick fool he is.
He rubs his hand up and down her arm, careful to keep her sleeve in between their actual skin. "Remy," she speaks. It's the first word she's spoken in hours, and despite everything, he cocks a grin at the realization that that first thing is his name.
He almost lost her today. The remainder chases away his grin, but reassurance still rings through his lilting voice. "Easy, ma petite. No one else gonna get hurt today. Remy promise ya dat."
She sighs and leans a little closer into his one-armed embrace. Her hair cascades in gentle, falling folds over his brown trench coat. What he wouldn't give to take off his coat and all his other clothes, and hers, and have nothing left between them! But, again, he reminds himself that this is neither the time nor the place.
Once more, his mind mulls over the day's events. He's seeking the right words to reassure, but he can't seem to find the knowledge she needs. She wept so much today and so hard, and it was all that damn Mystique's fault. She almost killed her and Kurt.
He burns with the memories, but still, he can not find the words. He's just too tired, he thinks, but he knows that's not the real reason. It's just an excuse. His weary body does not yet want to find his bed. His stomach rumbles, reminding him he hasn't eaten today. He can smell the meal Jean is cooking, and he hopes she takes a while getting dinner ready for them all.
He doesn't want to move from here. He doesn't want to leave this tree branch or the sunset. He doesn't want to leave her. And then he realizes. The words are as simple as they are truthful, but he knows, finally, that it's what she needs to hear. "We ain't goin' anywhere, petite."
Non, that's not all she needs. He stiffens for a moment beside her as he gathers his courage. He doesn't have to say the words, not all of them at least. She'll understand what he means. He turns his head, lifts his hand, cups her head, and caresses her soft hair through his black leather gloves. Then, into her ear, he whispers both a promise and an admission, "I ain't goin' anywhere, cherie. Ya can chase ol' Remy away, but I'll always chase back after ya 'til ya stop runnin' 'gain."
"Remy -- " Emotions break in her voice.
"Sh. No need ta say nutin', mon amour. It's a promise from me t' you. Friend or more, I'm 'ere fer you always." He kisses the back of his glove covering his hand that's still caressing her hair, the closest he can come to kissing her. "Promise," he whispers again.
This time, her sigh is happy and contented, and when she nestles closer to him, he wraps his other arm around her, too, and hopes the sun never sets so they never have to move again.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Romy (Rogue/Remy)
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:
hc_bingo: FamilyWarning(s): None
Word Count: 828
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He sits with his arm wrapped around her, overlooking the lush, green backyard of the mansion they've somehow come to call home in these last few years. He never thought he'd really live in a place like this; it's so much grander than even the best of places where he grew up. She sighs. She's even wearier than he, but her body remains rigid underneath his touch.
He knows she's afraid that she may somehow make skin contact with him; even the brushing of her long hair, which he knows must be as soft as silk, over his fingers could be deadly. It doesn't matter that they both yearn for it, not here, not now, not tonight, not after all the suffering she's been put through today. So instead of talking, instead of turning her ear and making her heart beat harder with his usual, sly flirtations, he settles for the comfortable silence between them and turns his red eyes on the sun.
It's setting, and he can almost see the moon rising in its globular glow. He's heard the sun described many ways. He can see the giant ball, and the egg, this evening. On a normal day, he might try to coin a new phrase for it, or at least determine what it is it most resembles, but not today. Even his mind is tired, and he aches not just from the physical fight to get Rogue back where she belongs but for her, as well.
He and his family have always had their problems, but at least, he never had a mother like Mystique. She held a gun to her own daughter's head today, and although Rogue claimed that she knew she would never shoot her, he had seen the uncertainty flicker, for just a second, in her beautiful, emerald eyes. The thought that those emeralds might be stolen him forever had been almost too much for him to bear without stammering like the lovesick fool he is.
He rubs his hand up and down her arm, careful to keep her sleeve in between their actual skin. "Remy," she speaks. It's the first word she's spoken in hours, and despite everything, he cocks a grin at the realization that that first thing is his name.
He almost lost her today. The remainder chases away his grin, but reassurance still rings through his lilting voice. "Easy, ma petite. No one else gonna get hurt today. Remy promise ya dat."
She sighs and leans a little closer into his one-armed embrace. Her hair cascades in gentle, falling folds over his brown trench coat. What he wouldn't give to take off his coat and all his other clothes, and hers, and have nothing left between them! But, again, he reminds himself that this is neither the time nor the place.
Once more, his mind mulls over the day's events. He's seeking the right words to reassure, but he can't seem to find the knowledge she needs. She wept so much today and so hard, and it was all that damn Mystique's fault. She almost killed her and Kurt.
He burns with the memories, but still, he can not find the words. He's just too tired, he thinks, but he knows that's not the real reason. It's just an excuse. His weary body does not yet want to find his bed. His stomach rumbles, reminding him he hasn't eaten today. He can smell the meal Jean is cooking, and he hopes she takes a while getting dinner ready for them all.
He doesn't want to move from here. He doesn't want to leave this tree branch or the sunset. He doesn't want to leave her. And then he realizes. The words are as simple as they are truthful, but he knows, finally, that it's what she needs to hear. "We ain't goin' anywhere, petite."
Non, that's not all she needs. He stiffens for a moment beside her as he gathers his courage. He doesn't have to say the words, not all of them at least. She'll understand what he means. He turns his head, lifts his hand, cups her head, and caresses her soft hair through his black leather gloves. Then, into her ear, he whispers both a promise and an admission, "I ain't goin' anywhere, cherie. Ya can chase ol' Remy away, but I'll always chase back after ya 'til ya stop runnin' 'gain."
"Remy -- " Emotions break in her voice.
"Sh. No need ta say nutin', mon amour. It's a promise from me t' you. Friend or more, I'm 'ere fer you always." He kisses the back of his glove covering his hand that's still caressing her hair, the closest he can come to kissing her. "Promise," he whispers again.
This time, her sigh is happy and contented, and when she nestles closer to him, he wraps his other arm around her, too, and hopes the sun never sets so they never have to move again.
The End
