15Pairings: X-Men
May. 14th, 2013 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTHEME SET 5
1. we are going to change
2. Lockheed/Shadowcat with
Title: "Four Seasons, One Constant"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: G/K
Summary: Kitty views her life as having four seasons, but there is one constant.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
She stared out at the Autumn leaves swirling pass her window down to the grounds she'd called home for most of her life. They were vastly different now, so full of modern technology and new faces running that, at times, it was hard to picture the calmer, quieter, and smaller school that had first been here, but she could still see it. She could still overlook the new students and see herself along with Logan, Ororo, Piotr, Kurt, and Rogue playing in the leaves they had been supposed to be raking, or playing football later in the season.
Kitty sighed, absent-mindedly fingering her David's star, and kept staring at the past. Things had changed so much since those days. She'd been so in love with Piotr then, and then later with Ororo, and back to Piotr, and then with Rachel, and with Wisdom. Each of them had left her at different times. Each had returned, but it had never been the same. Like Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, those four people represented the four seasons of her life, and Kitty wondered who would be next to own her heart.
They were all still in it. She had never stopped loving any of them, even if she had dated others and moved on from them all. She'd had to move on from them, although she'd not wanted to. Just as the years kept turning, she'd had to move on in order to survive. She'd wanted to stay, stuck in the past and reveling in her memories of the times she'd shared with them, but the world wouldn't let her. None of the seasons got a chance to stay, and she never had long to linger in the past for there was always a new life to rescue or the world to save or, and too often times, both.
The afternoon sunlight glinted on red hair, and Kitty watched as Rachel passed by her. She said she wasn't the same Rachel she'd known before. She'd told her she didn't have any memories of her in this time. She didn't remember the adventures they'd shared, the friendship they'd made, or the love they'd found with one another. She didn't remember how she'd broken Kitty's heart when she'd gone back into the time frame so that Brian could return to this time, how she'd abandoned her and their love so that Brian could have Meggan and their love could live.
She should've hated her for that. She should've hated Brian for making her leave and Meggan for pleading with her so greatly that Rachel had been unable not to do what she'd felt to be the right thing. She should have hated them all for breaking her heart, but she couldn't, not then or now. She understood too well where Brian and Meggan had come from, their willingness to do anything to preserve their love, because she felt the same.
If she could go back to any one time in her life where she had loved and been loved, she would gladly, but to whence would she return? To whose arms? Who had loved her the most? Who had she loved the most? She remembered holding and loving each of them as though their romances had just ended the day before.
Her brown eyes lifted to the skies where she could see Ororo beginning to control the leaves and pull them together. She remembered dancing in the wind with her. She had been the first to make her feel like a true woman, but Piotr had been the first person whom she'd loved romantically. Her eyes drifted to him. She was glad he was visiting the school, even if for just a little while.
She was still watching the handsome Russian trying to capture the beauty of the setting sun on canvas when a gentle weight touched down on her shoulders. She leaned her head against the dragon's without even having to look to see it was him. She turned her cheek and pressed her lips to his purple, leathery wing.
For years, he had been the only one not to leave her. He had been the only steady presence in her life. Even when she'd thought all of her friends and family were dead, he had been there, always there, always beside her, there for her, and loving her. Kitty remembered, with a grin, the story Illyana had once told about them. Had they been the same species, a love stronger than any of the other four great ones Kitty had known might surely have developed between them, but as it was, such was only a fond fantasy.
Still, he'd been there for her, and she was thankful for his presence, his constant companionship and comfort. He had helped her to pull the pieces of her heart back together after each time they had been ripped apart. He had been as constant as the sun or moon in her life, had licked many of her tears away, and had held her, as best he could with his small body, when she'd allowed no one else near. She turned her head closer into his wings now as she wondered if he, like every one else, would leave her again.
Lockheed cooed softly. His tail swished. His wings gathered more closely around his best friend's crying face. He gazed down at her, and he made his decision. He wouldn't leave her ever again. Kitty had hurt too much in her young life, and it pained him to think that he had ever added to that pain. His tail lightly thumped her shoulder.
SHIELD might come for him again. There were others, too, who might seek his aid. But he would never go. He would never leave her again. He was where he belonged, and no matter what happened, who came or went, he would never again abandon or otherwise hurt his Kitty.
The outside world would just have to keep on spinning without him, or stop entirely if it came to that, but he wasn't leaving Kitty. It was too important that her world keep spinning, and he'd make sure it always did. He licked the salty tears from her face, cooed softly again, and then pressed his beak to her cheek in the closest way he'd ever have to kissing his life mate.
The End
3. "Go ahead."
4. illusion
5. Professor X/Magneto with
Title: "Dreams"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: R/M
Summary: Some feelings never change.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Mutants screamed all around him. Charles' wheelchair whipped this way and that as he tried to go to his students, but he could reach none of them in time. "PROFESSOR!" Charles looked up as Cyclops screamed at him. A Sentinel's giant, purple hand bared down upon him, but before the horrible robot could touch him, Wolverine jumped between them.
His adamantium claws should have made short work for the robot, but instead, the Sentinel closed his fingers around Logan's short body in a grip so tight that Charles could hear Wolverine's bones breaking. He screamed as the hand sucked him into it; three claws were the last Charles saw before Wolverine was smashed into nothingness. Charles screamed for his student.
Female screams whipped his head toward where Storm and Jean Grey were doing their best to fight the army of Sentinels, but like Logan's claws before them, Storm's lightning bolts seemed to have little to no effect on the robots. Charles' blood ran cold inside of him when the Sentinels actually started to laugh.
Enormous footsteps shook the Earth as Master Mold came forward. He squished Bishop, Archangel, and Psylocke under one foot and Cable and Domino underneath another. "THE WEATHER WITCH IS MINE!" Charles tried to reach out to protect his two most cherished X-Women, but there was so little he could do against the Sentinels. "RUN!" he screamed, but they stood their ground, just as he'd taught them to do. Storm whipped up a hurricane, but Master Mold stepped right through it and onto her and Jean.
He marched on, laughing and leaving their crumpled bodies barely visible in the earth. The ground lurched up. Charles looked wildly around him as trees and buildings fell into the quaking earth. He realized, with sudden, terrifying clarity, that the Earth was dying as its mother, and one time Goddess, already had.
"NO! NO! NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" he screamed but could barely hear his own yells for all the dying screams around him. A wailing howl broke out. He turned toward the sound and saw Moira and Rahne as they gasped for their last, struggling breaths. They were untouched by the Sentinels; a virus ate them, instead, from the inside out. Moira died in her adopted daughter's arms. Rahne's body fell on top of hers, weeping, and then she, too, laid still.
"NO! NO! NNNNNOOOOOOO!!!!!" Was that his own screams or another of his students? Charles could no longer tell the difference as he continued whipping around and seeing another of his children fall with every turn.
"PROFESSOR!"
"SCOTT!" Charles cried. He raced toward him, but a Sentinel's blast shot straight into his face. Scott's ruby quartz glasses fell as his head split up, revealing the blood and brains inside.
"Professor!" Scott cried. "You let this happen!" Tears poured down both of their cheeks. "How could you let this happen?!"
"Charles." Charles turned toward the smooth voice and found his one time lover, Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, for years now better known as Magneto, holding out a gloved hand to him. Erik's eyes were as sad, haunted, and full of tears as his own as he reached for him. "I warned you this would happen, Charles, but you would not listen. We can have no peace with the humans for they will not allow it. Look around you. All of your X-Men are dead now; you and I are two of the only three mutants left alive."
"No -- "
"You know it is truth." Charles' body raised into the air to hover next to Magnus. He looked down around them and saw, through his tears, that Erik was right. All of his X-Men, every child he had ever loved, every mutant he had ever tried to help, every life he had saved were all destroyed down on the Earth below their feet.
"Join me, Charles. Join me now before it's too late." Erik's hand stretched further toward the old, sad mutant. "Join me while we can still avenge your beloved X-Men. Join me while we still have a chance to live."
"No," Charles whispered, and then, more loudly, he shouted, "NO!" He looked, through his tears, at the man he had never once stopped loving, no matter how times they had each tried to kill the other. "No," he said calmly again. "I'm sorry, Erik, but you know I can not."
Erik gazed sadly at him. "There are some feelings that will never change. You'll never change." His eyes hardened. His tears ceased. He grew solemn again, and his chin rose in determination, as it always whenever he was being stubborn since Charles had first met him.
"Very well." Magneto turned from him, held his hands out into the air crackling with energy, and made fists. Every Sentinel was immediately ripped apart. Where Charles had failed, where he had let all of his children be defeated by the monsters mankind had made to destroy them, Erik succeeded without ever touching a single one of the robots or having a hair fall out of place.
He turned back to Charles, his accusation clear in his handsome face and the sensual, blue eyes that had haunted every one of Charles' dreams since the first time they had kissed. "You could have helped," he told him and disappeared.
Charles had no time to react as another voice screamed at him, "PROFESSOR!" He turned to see Rogue flying at him, tears streaming from her emerald green eyes. "HOW COULD YA?! HOW COULD YA LET 'EM ALL DIE AN' NOT EVEN TRY T' SAVE HIM?! I TRUSTED Y'ALL! WE TRUSTED YA! AH THOUGHT YOU WERE GONNA SAVE US, BUT YOU MIGHT AS WELL'VE KILLED US YOAHSELF!"
She flew at him and then through him as Charles woke in the real world. An alarm was going off, he realized, that was not his clock. He rose in bed and struggled into his wheelchair. There was another life to be saved, or perhaps it was time to save the whole world yet again. But for what? How long would it be before one or another of his nightmares became real? The one he'd just had would not, but he dreamed so often of losing his students and had already lost so many dear children.
He looked to Jean's picture on his nightstand, picked it up, and traced her smiling face with still slightly shaking fingers. How many more had to die before his dream could be realized? How many more mutants and humans both had to be killed in the wake of prejudice before their species would stop fighting? Would the war ever ceased? Would it ever be won? Would mutants ever be able to live in peace if they did not conquer the humans, as Magneto thought was the only way for them to survive happily?
Were all the sacrifices that had already been made, all the lives that had already been taken, for naught? Had none of them made a difference? Would they ever make a difference? Would he ever be able to save his children, or would he be forced to watch them all die? Would they all die because of him and their belief in the dream he had started?
Should he have not started the dream? Should he have gone with Magnus when he'd offered for him to come along with him and rule the world together? Could there ever be happiness for his children, for him? Should he leave them? Would that help them, or were they already condemned to die for his dream? Would they have been better off if he had never come into their lives?
Movement just outside of his window caught the corner of Charles' sad, blue eyes. He placed the picture of his first, female student back down onto his nightstand and wheeled to the window. He looked out just in time to see the corner of a long, purple cape billowing away in the breeze. Erik had been there, watching him. Charles felt both warm and cold at that realization, warm at the thought that his love still cared for him, even if their dreams always kept them apart, and terrifyingly cold at the thought that his students' greatest enemy had been so close while they slept. He could have killed any of them as easily as he had destroyed the Sentinels in Charles' dream.
"COME BACK HERE, MAGNETO, AND FIGHT!"
Charles looked down at Wolverine's thundering yell and saw his X-Men rushing out to meet his lover. He gazed at each of them in turn: Wolverine, who was so much more now than the savage animal dressed as a soldier he had been when Charles had first recruited him; Storm, who was both no longer worshipped as a Goddess or alone on the streets of Cairo, stealing food just to survive; Cyclops, who had not been taken by Mister Sinister when he'd been just a mere slip of a child; Gambit, who was trying so hard to be a hero to make up for the deaths he had inadvertently helped to cause; Rogue, who had found a family and love at last; Nightcrawler, who would have died at the hands of an angry, prejudiced mob had Charles not reached him when he had; Psylocke, who had finally found herself; Angel, who was so much more than his father's money could have ever made him; and Bishop, who was living his childhood dream of fighting alongside the real X-Men while trying to keep a future that none of them wanted from happening.
Magneto's words came back to Charles at the night breeze. "There are some feelings that will never change." Despite the danger of the situation and the horribleness of his nightmare, Charles smiled.
"WAIT UP, GUYS!" He saw Jubilee running to catch up to the rest of the team, and in her, he saw the modern youth of all mutantkind. She had been fighting to survive on her own before the X-Men had come into her life and doing a justifiably good job of it, but she had been scared, alone, and with little knowledge of her powers. Now, she was just as much a hero, and an X-Man, as any of the rest of them.
Charles headed to join his family, his heart swelling with knowledge. No matter what happened, no matter what future or dreams did come to pass, every one of his children were not worse off because they knew him. They were better for knowing him. They had come together as a family, and no matter what else the humans did to them, the feelings of being loved and cared for and being together as they were now, so much more than a team -- a family -- were things that no one would ever be able to take from them. Charles thanked God as he joined his children on the battlefield that there were some feelings that would never change, and he hoped, asked, and prayed, again, for a future that would be bright and full of love for them all.
The End
6. Thor/Storm with
Title: "Thundering Kiss"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Even a lady can have a little fun.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
She learned long ago the importance of how to walk. It wasn't just the process of putting one foot in front of the other in order to reach a destination. There was much more to walking than what many people still thought. A person's stride displayed a great deal of information about them. It told rather they were weak or strong, rather they were shy or prideful, and rather or not that strength and pride, if possessed, were rightfully theirs.
Ororo learned to walk not when she was a baby or when she was a thief stealing amongst the streets of Cairo. The Shadow King began her lessons, but it wasn't until much later that she learned to carry herself with pride, dignity, grace, and power to persuade people to believe in her. She was treated as a Goddess by her tribe, and she carried herself as the Goddess in which they believed.
She walked with grace, dignity, strength, eloquence, and power. Her every move exuded all of those characteristics and more and caused every head to move and every eye to follow her progress. People recognized that she was, at the very least, a woman with whom to be reckoned with before she ever spoke.
She had heard a song once, one of those country melodies that Logan liked so much, that spoke of thunder doing the talking while lightning did the work. Ever since coming into her powers, Ororo has taken some degree of pleasure in being able to control the elements, including lightning bolts and the most powerful forces in the sky. She doesn't need lightning to do her work always, however, or thunder to talk for her. Her body talks for her, and with or without powers, and on all levels, she is a considerably strong force.
Ororo continued to remind herself of that as she entered Tony Starke's home. She kept her head held high, her jaw set with pride, and her blue eyes firm and strong. Outside, the sky darkened, but inside, she smiled. She would not allow any one the pleasure, if such could be derived as she had been warned by the other X-Women it could, of knowing how unsettled she felt over the reason she had come here this Friday night.
She had thought her divorce finalized. She had thought that there was nothing more that needed to be said or done between herself and her former husband, the man whom she never should have married. She had thought that she would never have to see T'Challa again unless it was in uniform and on the battle lines. Then, she'd gotten his call two days ago about needing her signature on yet another piece of paper.
A storm had hit Westchester ten minutes afterwards, but she had refused to allow any one, even those who knew her best, to recognize that that storm had anything to do with his phone call. She would not allow another to strike tonight; nor would she allow T'Challa's ungrateful body to be filled with lightning. She was better than that, Ororo reminded herself, better than what he and, undoubtedly by comparison, all of his team mates thought of her. She was better and stronger than that. She was a woman of grace. Her Goddess would not appreciate her frying T'Challa, who was still thought of as a hero by their people, and besides, she did not kill, especially not by a little thing like breaking her heart.
Kitty had offered to come with her, as had Logan, but she had turned them both down. She had to do this alone. She had to show T'Challa that he had no power over her and remind him of what a wonderful woman he had lost. She had planned this meeting for the last two days, gone over every possible circumstance in her mind, schemed over every word she would speak, every deed she would do, and every gesture she would make, right down to her every smile.
She was ready, or so she thought until the doors opened before her and she found the Avengers gathered at a table, her former husband included, spinning a bottle. T'Challa rose immediately and started toward her with his bold stance. The corners of Ororo's smiling lips quirked. The man had always been so proud of himself.
But then her curious, blue eyes went beyond him and back to the table. The Black Widow and Hawkeye were kissing while their friends chatted and laughed. No one less than the God of Thunder was reaching for the bottle. Ororo watched him and remembered the time she had had to battle him for the sake of the world while her ex prattled on about how this was not how the Avengers usually conducted their business.
Ororo looked away from Thor and graced T'Challa with her attention. "I did not say that it was, T'Challa, nor do I care if it is. Where is this paperwork?" She was blunt; he deserved no more of her time than she was forced to give him by the legal technicalities of their divorce.
"Right this way." She lightly shrugged off his attempt to touch her shoulder but nonetheless began to follow him. They were just beginning to pass the table when Thor burst out with deep laughter. She smiled truthfully, liking the sound of his booming chuckle.
"Storm," the Thunder God called to her, "my dear friend!"
"She's not playing," T'Challa snapped.
For a moment, Ororo likened him to the Black Panther for which he was named and imagined him possessing a literal tail in the knot. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing; wind whistled outside of the Avengers building. She peered over his muscular shoulder to Thor. "Playing what?" she asked, pretending to have not noticed all the fuss her ex had already put up about being caught with the game.
"Oh. Your team is playing Spin the Bottle?" She glanced at T'Challa. "The New Mutants used to play that game rather frequently. I never did understand the interest they held in it. After all, if you want to kiss some one, and they are willing, the kiss should simply happen. Wouldn't you agree, T'Challa?"
"Yes, and you don't have to play or give Thor any never mind." T'Challa grasped Ororo's shoulders and started to steer away.
"Thor," Captain America spoke. He and Tony exchanged a glance at the distant thunder now rumbling. Natasha looked up from Clint, who quickly and silently checked his bow. "Spin again."
Ororo snatched her body out of T'Challa's rough hands. She looked back to the table and the gathered Avengers. "What is the problem?"
Thor did not hesitate in answering her nor in meeting her questing gaze. "They think you would not like to kiss me, although I can not imagine why." He grinned. "I am rather handsome and considered to be quite the catch on my Asgardian home world."
"That's your world," Natasha muttered.
"Why would you want to kiss me, Thor?"
"Beside the fact that you are a beautiful and strong Goddess, quite fitting to be the consort of the God of Thunder?" Thor lifted his hefty shoulders in a shrug. "My friends talked me into playing this game where we kiss the person to whom the bottle points after we spin it. I spun it; the bottle pointed to you."
Arguments immediately started as Ororo spoke, "Then, by the rules of the game, it is only fair that we do kiss."
"You weren't playing," T'Challa growled.
This time, Ororo was quite certain he was a big cat with his tail in a knot. She smiled graciously at him. "It is all in mere fun, T'Challa."
Thor was before her before either Ororo or T'Challa could speak or do anything further. He blatantly ignored Captain America's stern warning to sit down; after all, as he'd told her once, Gods did not adhere to mere mortals' attempts to command them. "So points the bottle," he announced, placing a large hand on Ororo's slender waist, "so shall we do."
She let him pull her to him, noting that, although he pulled her, his touch did not possess a fraction of the force with which T'Challa had treated her. She could stop him at any time, and she knew Thor would neither persist nor complain. She allowed him to pull her to him and tilted her mouth up to meet his. T'Challa's snort made her smile grow as Thor's mouth closed down upon hers, but she was not prepared for the passion that followed.
His mouth on hers was gentle at first. His lips barely grazed hers. His fingers splayed over her clothed flesh, not pressing or leading but merely caressing. It was Ororo who opened her mouth with a small sigh of pleasure. Thor's tongue touched her teeth, and her tongue answered his. Passion poured between them, and thunder roared outside.
"It's just a game!" Hawkeye called.
"If they don't separate soon, I'll have Jarvis get the water hose," Tony remarked with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.
"Thor," Captain America called, "that is enough!"
"YEAH!" T'Challa roared. "IT IS ENOUGH! IT IS JUST A GAME!"
When Thor lifted his head, Ororo was breathless, and even his breathing was ragged. His blue eyes sparkled down at her. "What are you doing," he asked, "tomorrow night?" He glanced at T'Challa. "I am quite sure my friend, T'Challa, would not mind our excursing out together for a little fun."
He certainly shouldn't, Ororo thought, especially since the man didn't know the meaning of the word "fun"! But she knew the rift that such would cause amongst the Avengers. She was a mutant, a Weather Witch, and a teacher; she had been a Goddess and a Queen. Yet, if nothing else, Ororo would always be a lady. She smiled at Thor. "Saving the world," she answered to which T'Challa harrumphed.
This time, she allowed him to grasp her arm and yank him after her. She signed the papers in a hurry and left as a gentle rain was beginning to fall. This was the last time she would leave the Avengers building, and, Ororo suspected after her kiss with Thor and T'Challa's fury, there was more than one reason why that was a good thing.
The End
7. Gambit/Rogue and Wolverine/Storm with
Title: "Close To Paradise"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: It may be as close to paradise as they ever get.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
He played the same game of cards over and over again as he sat alone all night long. It was a puzzlement even to him as to why he continued to play, always expecting a different answer when his nimble fingers flipped the same card up every time. He knew it would be her always before turning the card over, and yet he continued shuffling his deck and starting a new round.
Always, the same, feminine face smiled up at him, and Remy wished it was a different face. She wasn't regal or especially graceful like a Queen should be, but she didn't have to be. His every thought was always on her if he wasn't in a bind, and then as soon as he could pull himself free of whatever danger was wrapped around him, his mind always returned to her again. She was there in his every thought, in his every dream, her name always just a breath away from his tongue, and he wished he could make her be there with him every moment.
As he moved restlessly in his seat, he felt a cool weight press against his chest. He knew she was aware of the ring he kept on a gold chain around his neck these days. She thought it was his past, but as usual, she couldn't be more wrong. The ring wasn't his past; in fact, the thing which it represented also sealed any thought he'd had before of returning to his past. It was the ring he wanted to give her but didn't dare.
After all they'd been through together, after all he'd suffered in trying to make her love him, after all the times he'd proven himself to her and that she was the most important thing to him, the blasted woman still doubted that their relationship could work. Heck, she still even refused to admit they had a relationship! He'd touched in every way he could, once even tasting of her sweet lips when they'd believed the end of time was drawing neigh, and still, she believed she couldn't have a relationship because she couldn't touch any one.
Remy fingered the Queen of Hearts yet again as he murmured to himself, "Well, chere, you have one rather you want it or not." It didn't matter to him that he couldn't touch her. Oh, his interest in her had started out as a usual, tough-to-tackle, reportedly-impossible-to-break conquest, but as he'd grown to know the woman herself, and not just the untouchable, Southern beauty whose natural charms spoke straight to his manhood, he'd actually done the impossible himself. He'd fallen in love.
There was no other for Remy, not man nor woman. There was nobody else with whom he wanted to be, no one else who could hold his interest for more than a fleeting glance even if he did still flirt with other girls to make Rogue angry. It was nice to know that he could still get under her skin even if she wouldn't let him get close to her; it was his way of making certain she still cared for him. Yet Belladonna could take an army of the women he'd had in the past, parade them all in front of him naked, and he'd still rather see Rogue with every bit of her clothing on than any one of them.
His other hand slipped inside his black tee shirt and fingered the gold, diamond ring on his chain. He might never be able to slip the ring on her finger. He might never even work up the courage to ask her to marry him, although he'd never stop asking her out. But the ring around his neck would always be for one woman only. He'd only ever want to share his last name and his life with her.
He sighed and reached for his bourbon only to find his cup had run dry. A bottle appeared by his gloved hand as if by magic. His red eyes glanced up to meet the red eyes of another, shorter, and older man. Remy sighed and shook his head. "Dank you, mon ami."
Logan didn't speak; he only took the chair next to his. It had been empty all night until now.
"I got it bad," Remy muttered, feeling the need to talk to some one.
Logan snorted and downed his own tankard of beer before signaling for the waitress to bring another. Remy's red eyes followed Logan's and he saw the dancing Goddess whom he watched. The Cajun smiled, suddenly no longer feeling so lonely or quite as lost. "I see I'm not de only one."
"Do I need to buy ya another bottle t' shut ya up?" Logan growled, yanking the new tankard the waitress offered him and downing it just as quickly as the first one Remy had witnessed him drinking which was, in truth, his third.
"Nope."
Remy finally flicked a new card over, the Jack of Spades, as he gestured to the waitress. "Keep it flowing, chere." With two men like them on her bill, he knew she would, but he also knew neither of them would ever really look at her a second time or even, truly, a first. As the old saying went, you didn't want hamburger when you had steak, and even if they never got to dine, they had a feast in the promising for which they would both gladly give everything.
They were lost completely to the women who had claimed their hearts and forever would be, even if they never received nothing more than the occasional flirtatious whisper and brushing of gloved hands in return. Remy sucked his bourbon. It was going to be a long life, he thought, often miserable if their love was never to be openly returned, but he smiled when he heard thunder outside and caught Rogue watching him from another part of the bar. They were loved, even if their women never admitted it. That unspoken love might have to last them all a lifetime, but as long as it was a lifetime with Rogue in it for him and Stormy in it for Logan, Gambit knew that it would be lives as close to paradise as they'd ever get.
The End
8. library
9. dark chocolate
10. gate
11. "I will."
12. paradise
13. restaurant
14. truth or dare
15. cure
1. we are going to change
2. Lockheed/Shadowcat with
Title: "Four Seasons, One Constant"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: G/K
Summary: Kitty views her life as having four seasons, but there is one constant.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
She stared out at the Autumn leaves swirling pass her window down to the grounds she'd called home for most of her life. They were vastly different now, so full of modern technology and new faces running that, at times, it was hard to picture the calmer, quieter, and smaller school that had first been here, but she could still see it. She could still overlook the new students and see herself along with Logan, Ororo, Piotr, Kurt, and Rogue playing in the leaves they had been supposed to be raking, or playing football later in the season.
Kitty sighed, absent-mindedly fingering her David's star, and kept staring at the past. Things had changed so much since those days. She'd been so in love with Piotr then, and then later with Ororo, and back to Piotr, and then with Rachel, and with Wisdom. Each of them had left her at different times. Each had returned, but it had never been the same. Like Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, those four people represented the four seasons of her life, and Kitty wondered who would be next to own her heart.
They were all still in it. She had never stopped loving any of them, even if she had dated others and moved on from them all. She'd had to move on from them, although she'd not wanted to. Just as the years kept turning, she'd had to move on in order to survive. She'd wanted to stay, stuck in the past and reveling in her memories of the times she'd shared with them, but the world wouldn't let her. None of the seasons got a chance to stay, and she never had long to linger in the past for there was always a new life to rescue or the world to save or, and too often times, both.
The afternoon sunlight glinted on red hair, and Kitty watched as Rachel passed by her. She said she wasn't the same Rachel she'd known before. She'd told her she didn't have any memories of her in this time. She didn't remember the adventures they'd shared, the friendship they'd made, or the love they'd found with one another. She didn't remember how she'd broken Kitty's heart when she'd gone back into the time frame so that Brian could return to this time, how she'd abandoned her and their love so that Brian could have Meggan and their love could live.
She should've hated her for that. She should've hated Brian for making her leave and Meggan for pleading with her so greatly that Rachel had been unable not to do what she'd felt to be the right thing. She should have hated them all for breaking her heart, but she couldn't, not then or now. She understood too well where Brian and Meggan had come from, their willingness to do anything to preserve their love, because she felt the same.
If she could go back to any one time in her life where she had loved and been loved, she would gladly, but to whence would she return? To whose arms? Who had loved her the most? Who had she loved the most? She remembered holding and loving each of them as though their romances had just ended the day before.
Her brown eyes lifted to the skies where she could see Ororo beginning to control the leaves and pull them together. She remembered dancing in the wind with her. She had been the first to make her feel like a true woman, but Piotr had been the first person whom she'd loved romantically. Her eyes drifted to him. She was glad he was visiting the school, even if for just a little while.
She was still watching the handsome Russian trying to capture the beauty of the setting sun on canvas when a gentle weight touched down on her shoulders. She leaned her head against the dragon's without even having to look to see it was him. She turned her cheek and pressed her lips to his purple, leathery wing.
For years, he had been the only one not to leave her. He had been the only steady presence in her life. Even when she'd thought all of her friends and family were dead, he had been there, always there, always beside her, there for her, and loving her. Kitty remembered, with a grin, the story Illyana had once told about them. Had they been the same species, a love stronger than any of the other four great ones Kitty had known might surely have developed between them, but as it was, such was only a fond fantasy.
Still, he'd been there for her, and she was thankful for his presence, his constant companionship and comfort. He had helped her to pull the pieces of her heart back together after each time they had been ripped apart. He had been as constant as the sun or moon in her life, had licked many of her tears away, and had held her, as best he could with his small body, when she'd allowed no one else near. She turned her head closer into his wings now as she wondered if he, like every one else, would leave her again.
Lockheed cooed softly. His tail swished. His wings gathered more closely around his best friend's crying face. He gazed down at her, and he made his decision. He wouldn't leave her ever again. Kitty had hurt too much in her young life, and it pained him to think that he had ever added to that pain. His tail lightly thumped her shoulder.
SHIELD might come for him again. There were others, too, who might seek his aid. But he would never go. He would never leave her again. He was where he belonged, and no matter what happened, who came or went, he would never again abandon or otherwise hurt his Kitty.
The outside world would just have to keep on spinning without him, or stop entirely if it came to that, but he wasn't leaving Kitty. It was too important that her world keep spinning, and he'd make sure it always did. He licked the salty tears from her face, cooed softly again, and then pressed his beak to her cheek in the closest way he'd ever have to kissing his life mate.
The End
3. "Go ahead."
4. illusion
5. Professor X/Magneto with
Title: "Dreams"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: R/M
Summary: Some feelings never change.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Mutants screamed all around him. Charles' wheelchair whipped this way and that as he tried to go to his students, but he could reach none of them in time. "PROFESSOR!" Charles looked up as Cyclops screamed at him. A Sentinel's giant, purple hand bared down upon him, but before the horrible robot could touch him, Wolverine jumped between them.
His adamantium claws should have made short work for the robot, but instead, the Sentinel closed his fingers around Logan's short body in a grip so tight that Charles could hear Wolverine's bones breaking. He screamed as the hand sucked him into it; three claws were the last Charles saw before Wolverine was smashed into nothingness. Charles screamed for his student.
Female screams whipped his head toward where Storm and Jean Grey were doing their best to fight the army of Sentinels, but like Logan's claws before them, Storm's lightning bolts seemed to have little to no effect on the robots. Charles' blood ran cold inside of him when the Sentinels actually started to laugh.
Enormous footsteps shook the Earth as Master Mold came forward. He squished Bishop, Archangel, and Psylocke under one foot and Cable and Domino underneath another. "THE WEATHER WITCH IS MINE!" Charles tried to reach out to protect his two most cherished X-Women, but there was so little he could do against the Sentinels. "RUN!" he screamed, but they stood their ground, just as he'd taught them to do. Storm whipped up a hurricane, but Master Mold stepped right through it and onto her and Jean.
He marched on, laughing and leaving their crumpled bodies barely visible in the earth. The ground lurched up. Charles looked wildly around him as trees and buildings fell into the quaking earth. He realized, with sudden, terrifying clarity, that the Earth was dying as its mother, and one time Goddess, already had.
"NO! NO! NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" he screamed but could barely hear his own yells for all the dying screams around him. A wailing howl broke out. He turned toward the sound and saw Moira and Rahne as they gasped for their last, struggling breaths. They were untouched by the Sentinels; a virus ate them, instead, from the inside out. Moira died in her adopted daughter's arms. Rahne's body fell on top of hers, weeping, and then she, too, laid still.
"NO! NO! NNNNNOOOOOOO!!!!!" Was that his own screams or another of his students? Charles could no longer tell the difference as he continued whipping around and seeing another of his children fall with every turn.
"PROFESSOR!"
"SCOTT!" Charles cried. He raced toward him, but a Sentinel's blast shot straight into his face. Scott's ruby quartz glasses fell as his head split up, revealing the blood and brains inside.
"Professor!" Scott cried. "You let this happen!" Tears poured down both of their cheeks. "How could you let this happen?!"
"Charles." Charles turned toward the smooth voice and found his one time lover, Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, for years now better known as Magneto, holding out a gloved hand to him. Erik's eyes were as sad, haunted, and full of tears as his own as he reached for him. "I warned you this would happen, Charles, but you would not listen. We can have no peace with the humans for they will not allow it. Look around you. All of your X-Men are dead now; you and I are two of the only three mutants left alive."
"No -- "
"You know it is truth." Charles' body raised into the air to hover next to Magnus. He looked down around them and saw, through his tears, that Erik was right. All of his X-Men, every child he had ever loved, every mutant he had ever tried to help, every life he had saved were all destroyed down on the Earth below their feet.
"Join me, Charles. Join me now before it's too late." Erik's hand stretched further toward the old, sad mutant. "Join me while we can still avenge your beloved X-Men. Join me while we still have a chance to live."
"No," Charles whispered, and then, more loudly, he shouted, "NO!" He looked, through his tears, at the man he had never once stopped loving, no matter how times they had each tried to kill the other. "No," he said calmly again. "I'm sorry, Erik, but you know I can not."
Erik gazed sadly at him. "There are some feelings that will never change. You'll never change." His eyes hardened. His tears ceased. He grew solemn again, and his chin rose in determination, as it always whenever he was being stubborn since Charles had first met him.
"Very well." Magneto turned from him, held his hands out into the air crackling with energy, and made fists. Every Sentinel was immediately ripped apart. Where Charles had failed, where he had let all of his children be defeated by the monsters mankind had made to destroy them, Erik succeeded without ever touching a single one of the robots or having a hair fall out of place.
He turned back to Charles, his accusation clear in his handsome face and the sensual, blue eyes that had haunted every one of Charles' dreams since the first time they had kissed. "You could have helped," he told him and disappeared.
Charles had no time to react as another voice screamed at him, "PROFESSOR!" He turned to see Rogue flying at him, tears streaming from her emerald green eyes. "HOW COULD YA?! HOW COULD YA LET 'EM ALL DIE AN' NOT EVEN TRY T' SAVE HIM?! I TRUSTED Y'ALL! WE TRUSTED YA! AH THOUGHT YOU WERE GONNA SAVE US, BUT YOU MIGHT AS WELL'VE KILLED US YOAHSELF!"
She flew at him and then through him as Charles woke in the real world. An alarm was going off, he realized, that was not his clock. He rose in bed and struggled into his wheelchair. There was another life to be saved, or perhaps it was time to save the whole world yet again. But for what? How long would it be before one or another of his nightmares became real? The one he'd just had would not, but he dreamed so often of losing his students and had already lost so many dear children.
He looked to Jean's picture on his nightstand, picked it up, and traced her smiling face with still slightly shaking fingers. How many more had to die before his dream could be realized? How many more mutants and humans both had to be killed in the wake of prejudice before their species would stop fighting? Would the war ever ceased? Would it ever be won? Would mutants ever be able to live in peace if they did not conquer the humans, as Magneto thought was the only way for them to survive happily?
Were all the sacrifices that had already been made, all the lives that had already been taken, for naught? Had none of them made a difference? Would they ever make a difference? Would he ever be able to save his children, or would he be forced to watch them all die? Would they all die because of him and their belief in the dream he had started?
Should he have not started the dream? Should he have gone with Magnus when he'd offered for him to come along with him and rule the world together? Could there ever be happiness for his children, for him? Should he leave them? Would that help them, or were they already condemned to die for his dream? Would they have been better off if he had never come into their lives?
Movement just outside of his window caught the corner of Charles' sad, blue eyes. He placed the picture of his first, female student back down onto his nightstand and wheeled to the window. He looked out just in time to see the corner of a long, purple cape billowing away in the breeze. Erik had been there, watching him. Charles felt both warm and cold at that realization, warm at the thought that his love still cared for him, even if their dreams always kept them apart, and terrifyingly cold at the thought that his students' greatest enemy had been so close while they slept. He could have killed any of them as easily as he had destroyed the Sentinels in Charles' dream.
"COME BACK HERE, MAGNETO, AND FIGHT!"
Charles looked down at Wolverine's thundering yell and saw his X-Men rushing out to meet his lover. He gazed at each of them in turn: Wolverine, who was so much more now than the savage animal dressed as a soldier he had been when Charles had first recruited him; Storm, who was both no longer worshipped as a Goddess or alone on the streets of Cairo, stealing food just to survive; Cyclops, who had not been taken by Mister Sinister when he'd been just a mere slip of a child; Gambit, who was trying so hard to be a hero to make up for the deaths he had inadvertently helped to cause; Rogue, who had found a family and love at last; Nightcrawler, who would have died at the hands of an angry, prejudiced mob had Charles not reached him when he had; Psylocke, who had finally found herself; Angel, who was so much more than his father's money could have ever made him; and Bishop, who was living his childhood dream of fighting alongside the real X-Men while trying to keep a future that none of them wanted from happening.
Magneto's words came back to Charles at the night breeze. "There are some feelings that will never change." Despite the danger of the situation and the horribleness of his nightmare, Charles smiled.
"WAIT UP, GUYS!" He saw Jubilee running to catch up to the rest of the team, and in her, he saw the modern youth of all mutantkind. She had been fighting to survive on her own before the X-Men had come into her life and doing a justifiably good job of it, but she had been scared, alone, and with little knowledge of her powers. Now, she was just as much a hero, and an X-Man, as any of the rest of them.
Charles headed to join his family, his heart swelling with knowledge. No matter what happened, no matter what future or dreams did come to pass, every one of his children were not worse off because they knew him. They were better for knowing him. They had come together as a family, and no matter what else the humans did to them, the feelings of being loved and cared for and being together as they were now, so much more than a team -- a family -- were things that no one would ever be able to take from them. Charles thanked God as he joined his children on the battlefield that there were some feelings that would never change, and he hoped, asked, and prayed, again, for a future that would be bright and full of love for them all.
The End
6. Thor/Storm with
Title: "Thundering Kiss"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Even a lady can have a little fun.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
She learned long ago the importance of how to walk. It wasn't just the process of putting one foot in front of the other in order to reach a destination. There was much more to walking than what many people still thought. A person's stride displayed a great deal of information about them. It told rather they were weak or strong, rather they were shy or prideful, and rather or not that strength and pride, if possessed, were rightfully theirs.
Ororo learned to walk not when she was a baby or when she was a thief stealing amongst the streets of Cairo. The Shadow King began her lessons, but it wasn't until much later that she learned to carry herself with pride, dignity, grace, and power to persuade people to believe in her. She was treated as a Goddess by her tribe, and she carried herself as the Goddess in which they believed.
She walked with grace, dignity, strength, eloquence, and power. Her every move exuded all of those characteristics and more and caused every head to move and every eye to follow her progress. People recognized that she was, at the very least, a woman with whom to be reckoned with before she ever spoke.
She had heard a song once, one of those country melodies that Logan liked so much, that spoke of thunder doing the talking while lightning did the work. Ever since coming into her powers, Ororo has taken some degree of pleasure in being able to control the elements, including lightning bolts and the most powerful forces in the sky. She doesn't need lightning to do her work always, however, or thunder to talk for her. Her body talks for her, and with or without powers, and on all levels, she is a considerably strong force.
Ororo continued to remind herself of that as she entered Tony Starke's home. She kept her head held high, her jaw set with pride, and her blue eyes firm and strong. Outside, the sky darkened, but inside, she smiled. She would not allow any one the pleasure, if such could be derived as she had been warned by the other X-Women it could, of knowing how unsettled she felt over the reason she had come here this Friday night.
She had thought her divorce finalized. She had thought that there was nothing more that needed to be said or done between herself and her former husband, the man whom she never should have married. She had thought that she would never have to see T'Challa again unless it was in uniform and on the battle lines. Then, she'd gotten his call two days ago about needing her signature on yet another piece of paper.
A storm had hit Westchester ten minutes afterwards, but she had refused to allow any one, even those who knew her best, to recognize that that storm had anything to do with his phone call. She would not allow another to strike tonight; nor would she allow T'Challa's ungrateful body to be filled with lightning. She was better than that, Ororo reminded herself, better than what he and, undoubtedly by comparison, all of his team mates thought of her. She was better and stronger than that. She was a woman of grace. Her Goddess would not appreciate her frying T'Challa, who was still thought of as a hero by their people, and besides, she did not kill, especially not by a little thing like breaking her heart.
Kitty had offered to come with her, as had Logan, but she had turned them both down. She had to do this alone. She had to show T'Challa that he had no power over her and remind him of what a wonderful woman he had lost. She had planned this meeting for the last two days, gone over every possible circumstance in her mind, schemed over every word she would speak, every deed she would do, and every gesture she would make, right down to her every smile.
She was ready, or so she thought until the doors opened before her and she found the Avengers gathered at a table, her former husband included, spinning a bottle. T'Challa rose immediately and started toward her with his bold stance. The corners of Ororo's smiling lips quirked. The man had always been so proud of himself.
But then her curious, blue eyes went beyond him and back to the table. The Black Widow and Hawkeye were kissing while their friends chatted and laughed. No one less than the God of Thunder was reaching for the bottle. Ororo watched him and remembered the time she had had to battle him for the sake of the world while her ex prattled on about how this was not how the Avengers usually conducted their business.
Ororo looked away from Thor and graced T'Challa with her attention. "I did not say that it was, T'Challa, nor do I care if it is. Where is this paperwork?" She was blunt; he deserved no more of her time than she was forced to give him by the legal technicalities of their divorce.
"Right this way." She lightly shrugged off his attempt to touch her shoulder but nonetheless began to follow him. They were just beginning to pass the table when Thor burst out with deep laughter. She smiled truthfully, liking the sound of his booming chuckle.
"Storm," the Thunder God called to her, "my dear friend!"
"She's not playing," T'Challa snapped.
For a moment, Ororo likened him to the Black Panther for which he was named and imagined him possessing a literal tail in the knot. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing; wind whistled outside of the Avengers building. She peered over his muscular shoulder to Thor. "Playing what?" she asked, pretending to have not noticed all the fuss her ex had already put up about being caught with the game.
"Oh. Your team is playing Spin the Bottle?" She glanced at T'Challa. "The New Mutants used to play that game rather frequently. I never did understand the interest they held in it. After all, if you want to kiss some one, and they are willing, the kiss should simply happen. Wouldn't you agree, T'Challa?"
"Yes, and you don't have to play or give Thor any never mind." T'Challa grasped Ororo's shoulders and started to steer away.
"Thor," Captain America spoke. He and Tony exchanged a glance at the distant thunder now rumbling. Natasha looked up from Clint, who quickly and silently checked his bow. "Spin again."
Ororo snatched her body out of T'Challa's rough hands. She looked back to the table and the gathered Avengers. "What is the problem?"
Thor did not hesitate in answering her nor in meeting her questing gaze. "They think you would not like to kiss me, although I can not imagine why." He grinned. "I am rather handsome and considered to be quite the catch on my Asgardian home world."
"That's your world," Natasha muttered.
"Why would you want to kiss me, Thor?"
"Beside the fact that you are a beautiful and strong Goddess, quite fitting to be the consort of the God of Thunder?" Thor lifted his hefty shoulders in a shrug. "My friends talked me into playing this game where we kiss the person to whom the bottle points after we spin it. I spun it; the bottle pointed to you."
Arguments immediately started as Ororo spoke, "Then, by the rules of the game, it is only fair that we do kiss."
"You weren't playing," T'Challa growled.
This time, Ororo was quite certain he was a big cat with his tail in a knot. She smiled graciously at him. "It is all in mere fun, T'Challa."
Thor was before her before either Ororo or T'Challa could speak or do anything further. He blatantly ignored Captain America's stern warning to sit down; after all, as he'd told her once, Gods did not adhere to mere mortals' attempts to command them. "So points the bottle," he announced, placing a large hand on Ororo's slender waist, "so shall we do."
She let him pull her to him, noting that, although he pulled her, his touch did not possess a fraction of the force with which T'Challa had treated her. She could stop him at any time, and she knew Thor would neither persist nor complain. She allowed him to pull her to him and tilted her mouth up to meet his. T'Challa's snort made her smile grow as Thor's mouth closed down upon hers, but she was not prepared for the passion that followed.
His mouth on hers was gentle at first. His lips barely grazed hers. His fingers splayed over her clothed flesh, not pressing or leading but merely caressing. It was Ororo who opened her mouth with a small sigh of pleasure. Thor's tongue touched her teeth, and her tongue answered his. Passion poured between them, and thunder roared outside.
"It's just a game!" Hawkeye called.
"If they don't separate soon, I'll have Jarvis get the water hose," Tony remarked with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.
"Thor," Captain America called, "that is enough!"
"YEAH!" T'Challa roared. "IT IS ENOUGH! IT IS JUST A GAME!"
When Thor lifted his head, Ororo was breathless, and even his breathing was ragged. His blue eyes sparkled down at her. "What are you doing," he asked, "tomorrow night?" He glanced at T'Challa. "I am quite sure my friend, T'Challa, would not mind our excursing out together for a little fun."
He certainly shouldn't, Ororo thought, especially since the man didn't know the meaning of the word "fun"! But she knew the rift that such would cause amongst the Avengers. She was a mutant, a Weather Witch, and a teacher; she had been a Goddess and a Queen. Yet, if nothing else, Ororo would always be a lady. She smiled at Thor. "Saving the world," she answered to which T'Challa harrumphed.
This time, she allowed him to grasp her arm and yank him after her. She signed the papers in a hurry and left as a gentle rain was beginning to fall. This was the last time she would leave the Avengers building, and, Ororo suspected after her kiss with Thor and T'Challa's fury, there was more than one reason why that was a good thing.
The End
7. Gambit/Rogue and Wolverine/Storm with
Title: "Close To Paradise"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: It may be as close to paradise as they ever get.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
He played the same game of cards over and over again as he sat alone all night long. It was a puzzlement even to him as to why he continued to play, always expecting a different answer when his nimble fingers flipped the same card up every time. He knew it would be her always before turning the card over, and yet he continued shuffling his deck and starting a new round.
Always, the same, feminine face smiled up at him, and Remy wished it was a different face. She wasn't regal or especially graceful like a Queen should be, but she didn't have to be. His every thought was always on her if he wasn't in a bind, and then as soon as he could pull himself free of whatever danger was wrapped around him, his mind always returned to her again. She was there in his every thought, in his every dream, her name always just a breath away from his tongue, and he wished he could make her be there with him every moment.
As he moved restlessly in his seat, he felt a cool weight press against his chest. He knew she was aware of the ring he kept on a gold chain around his neck these days. She thought it was his past, but as usual, she couldn't be more wrong. The ring wasn't his past; in fact, the thing which it represented also sealed any thought he'd had before of returning to his past. It was the ring he wanted to give her but didn't dare.
After all they'd been through together, after all he'd suffered in trying to make her love him, after all the times he'd proven himself to her and that she was the most important thing to him, the blasted woman still doubted that their relationship could work. Heck, she still even refused to admit they had a relationship! He'd touched in every way he could, once even tasting of her sweet lips when they'd believed the end of time was drawing neigh, and still, she believed she couldn't have a relationship because she couldn't touch any one.
Remy fingered the Queen of Hearts yet again as he murmured to himself, "Well, chere, you have one rather you want it or not." It didn't matter to him that he couldn't touch her. Oh, his interest in her had started out as a usual, tough-to-tackle, reportedly-impossible-to-break conquest, but as he'd grown to know the woman herself, and not just the untouchable, Southern beauty whose natural charms spoke straight to his manhood, he'd actually done the impossible himself. He'd fallen in love.
There was no other for Remy, not man nor woman. There was nobody else with whom he wanted to be, no one else who could hold his interest for more than a fleeting glance even if he did still flirt with other girls to make Rogue angry. It was nice to know that he could still get under her skin even if she wouldn't let him get close to her; it was his way of making certain she still cared for him. Yet Belladonna could take an army of the women he'd had in the past, parade them all in front of him naked, and he'd still rather see Rogue with every bit of her clothing on than any one of them.
His other hand slipped inside his black tee shirt and fingered the gold, diamond ring on his chain. He might never be able to slip the ring on her finger. He might never even work up the courage to ask her to marry him, although he'd never stop asking her out. But the ring around his neck would always be for one woman only. He'd only ever want to share his last name and his life with her.
He sighed and reached for his bourbon only to find his cup had run dry. A bottle appeared by his gloved hand as if by magic. His red eyes glanced up to meet the red eyes of another, shorter, and older man. Remy sighed and shook his head. "Dank you, mon ami."
Logan didn't speak; he only took the chair next to his. It had been empty all night until now.
"I got it bad," Remy muttered, feeling the need to talk to some one.
Logan snorted and downed his own tankard of beer before signaling for the waitress to bring another. Remy's red eyes followed Logan's and he saw the dancing Goddess whom he watched. The Cajun smiled, suddenly no longer feeling so lonely or quite as lost. "I see I'm not de only one."
"Do I need to buy ya another bottle t' shut ya up?" Logan growled, yanking the new tankard the waitress offered him and downing it just as quickly as the first one Remy had witnessed him drinking which was, in truth, his third.
"Nope."
Remy finally flicked a new card over, the Jack of Spades, as he gestured to the waitress. "Keep it flowing, chere." With two men like them on her bill, he knew she would, but he also knew neither of them would ever really look at her a second time or even, truly, a first. As the old saying went, you didn't want hamburger when you had steak, and even if they never got to dine, they had a feast in the promising for which they would both gladly give everything.
They were lost completely to the women who had claimed their hearts and forever would be, even if they never received nothing more than the occasional flirtatious whisper and brushing of gloved hands in return. Remy sucked his bourbon. It was going to be a long life, he thought, often miserable if their love was never to be openly returned, but he smiled when he heard thunder outside and caught Rogue watching him from another part of the bar. They were loved, even if their women never admitted it. That unspoken love might have to last them all a lifetime, but as long as it was a lifetime with Rogue in it for him and Stormy in it for Logan, Gambit knew that it would be lives as close to paradise as they'd ever get.
The End
8. library
9. dark chocolate
10. gate
11. "I will."
12. paradise
13. restaurant
14. truth or dare
15. cure
