X-MEN: Grasping the Frame (Rogue/Gambit)
For rawles, who requested a fic based on the following icon (by rabidreject_taz), which had the keywords, "You can drain my energy any time, chere":
Title: Grasping the Frame
Author: voleuse
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Rogue/Gambit
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Fifty-one seconds of videotape, abstract as an overture.
Notes: Timeline-wise, Remy is still a newcomer, in whichever canon you think this fits.
She found Gambit sitting on the roof, slouched back, his elbows propping him up. The setting sun cast long shadows across the shingles, and the half-glow of his eyes was striking. He tilted his head and watched her alight on the roof, a smile playing on the edges of his mouth. Despite his quick assimilation into the group, she still wasn't sure what to think of him, but from the look on his face, she was pretty sure she knew exactly what he thought of her.
"I'd say I don't want company," he drawled, "but I can't say I'd object to yours." He swept one arm out, indicating the space next to him. He wore a leather cuff around his wrist, but it was half-undone, a blade peeking out.
Rogue stayed standing, feeling conspicuous but stubborn. "You don't fly," she responded, "or leap like some of the others do. What're you doing on the roof?"
His shrug was elegant instead of awkward. "Thief," he said, and let the word settle like a closed book.
"Right." Rogue looked away, across the treetops. The urge to fly tickled against her skin, like a never-ending song.
"You ever miss home?" she asked. "The trees never sound right 'round here."
He didn't answer right away, and she looked over, stepped closer to see his expression. She almost missed his quick, drawn breath. "I didn't notice," he said, voice flat. Then he smiled. "Why? Do you want to kiss, make it all better?"
She stepped back, crossed her arms. "What, they didn't tell you about me?"
"Oui." He rolled up into a crouch, then stood, sauntered closer. "But what kind of man would I be, if I let a little pain scare me?" He leaned closer still, and she tensed, muscles telling her to fly.
"Not a little," she murmured, the sun heavy in her eyes. "Last thing I want is you in my head."
His fingers laced through hers for a heartbeat, then traced over her wrist, up the sleeve of her jacket. "No." He looped a lock of her hair around his index finger. "I don't think that's true."
Even as she caught her breath, he was breaking away, sliding down the roof and flipping down. Rogue gave in to the flightsong, leaped up and out in time to see him swing into an open window.
Rogue gritted her teeth against a growl, and wished the shivers from her skin. She stretched her body against the wind, and sped to meet the sun at the horizon.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Monica Youn's Stealing The Scream. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.
Title: Grasping the Frame
Author: voleuse
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Rogue/Gambit
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Fifty-one seconds of videotape, abstract as an overture.
Notes: Timeline-wise, Remy is still a newcomer, in whichever canon you think this fits.
She found Gambit sitting on the roof, slouched back, his elbows propping him up. The setting sun cast long shadows across the shingles, and the half-glow of his eyes was striking. He tilted his head and watched her alight on the roof, a smile playing on the edges of his mouth. Despite his quick assimilation into the group, she still wasn't sure what to think of him, but from the look on his face, she was pretty sure she knew exactly what he thought of her.
"I'd say I don't want company," he drawled, "but I can't say I'd object to yours." He swept one arm out, indicating the space next to him. He wore a leather cuff around his wrist, but it was half-undone, a blade peeking out.
Rogue stayed standing, feeling conspicuous but stubborn. "You don't fly," she responded, "or leap like some of the others do. What're you doing on the roof?"
His shrug was elegant instead of awkward. "Thief," he said, and let the word settle like a closed book.
"Right." Rogue looked away, across the treetops. The urge to fly tickled against her skin, like a never-ending song.
"You ever miss home?" she asked. "The trees never sound right 'round here."
He didn't answer right away, and she looked over, stepped closer to see his expression. She almost missed his quick, drawn breath. "I didn't notice," he said, voice flat. Then he smiled. "Why? Do you want to kiss, make it all better?"
She stepped back, crossed her arms. "What, they didn't tell you about me?"
"Oui." He rolled up into a crouch, then stood, sauntered closer. "But what kind of man would I be, if I let a little pain scare me?" He leaned closer still, and she tensed, muscles telling her to fly.
"Not a little," she murmured, the sun heavy in her eyes. "Last thing I want is you in my head."
His fingers laced through hers for a heartbeat, then traced over her wrist, up the sleeve of her jacket. "No." He looped a lock of her hair around his index finger. "I don't think that's true."
Even as she caught her breath, he was breaking away, sliding down the roof and flipping down. Rogue gave in to the flightsong, leaped up and out in time to see him swing into an open window.
Rogue gritted her teeth against a growl, and wished the shivers from her skin. She stretched her body against the wind, and sped to meet the sun at the horizon.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Monica Youn's Stealing The Scream. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.