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10 inspirations (3/10)
Title: Actions, Not Words
Characters: Rogue/Gambit, Logan, Kitty, Jubilee
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1150
Disclaimer: Marvel and 20th Century Fox own.
AN: For 10_inspirations, Quotes #9- Deeds, not words, shall speak me. Takes place in the X-men movieverse. Follows this and this.

Rogue didn't think it possible, but according to Storm, Gambit was Logan's friend.

"Practically the first face I remember seeing," Logan admitted once when she asked about Gambit during a training session. The woman lying lifeless on the ground, Logan didn't like to think about. "Don't remember much else about him. Wouldn't call him a friend, though." Even if Gambit alluded that Logan made the mess they were in and was trying to get him out of it, Logan didn't trust the guy. He turned to Rogue, left eyebrow arched. "Why you asking?"

"Just wondering," she shrugged. She'd been wondering a lot about the newest arrival.

The boy - the man? - Rogue wasn't sure how to think of him. No one knew his age, no one seemed to care, but it bothered her. He knew Logan from years ago and Logan says he doesn't remember Gambit looking much different. Whatever his age, he didn't look it. Didn't act it either, she thought in irritation. Jubilee said he couldn't possibly be a day over twenty-six, so that's how everyone began to think of him.

All the girls in the school said he was hot and practically swooned when he walked by, winked, and said a few choice words to complete the act. Like everyone else, Rogue thought him handsome. At first. But, that careless, carefree attitude of his sure got in the way. He didn't seem to take anything seriously. And that flirting of his? Gave Rogue a bigger headache than the psyches ever did.

Yet, the first time Rogue really heard him speak more than the few words of introduction they exchanged was two days after they met. She stopped in her tracks outside the rec room letting that delicious voice wash over her. The tenor, the accent, the feel of home he made her think of, made her shut her eyes and just listen. But then she heard what kind of garbage spewed from his lips and she kept right on walking.


"Forget the past, chère," Gambit smirked at her when she asked about his one night, "'S better to live in the here and now, non?"

"Really?" she laughed, though she didn't find it funny, "That's the best ya got, Gambit?" Rogue rolled her eyes and left the kitchen, forgetting all about the ice cream she intended on getting.


"Can't help it, Roguey," he said, "You tres belle."

Kitty and Jubilee chirped in delight. Rogue barely looked at him even though she wanted to hit him for calling her Roguey, but she wasn't about to reward that kind of behaviour.

"Women actually fall for that crap?" she snorted and shook her head pitying those poor women as she turned away from him to her much more interesting book.


During a Danger Room sim, Gambit had Rogue pinned down.

"You may have lost the game, you and your furry partner but, for you, at least there is a chance to claim something from the day!" Rogue shot daggers up at him. Where the hell was Logan, she wondered as she continued trying to escape Gambit's hold, but he didn't seem to notice and kept right on talking, "Champagne, candle light. Magic time, chère."

Rogue actually stopped struggling, but grimaced as if in pain.

"That...that was just lame, Cajun."

He narrowed his eyes at her for a split second, but then his smirk was back. He'd just asked her out and not only had she refused, she called him lame. Him. Remy LeBeau. Gambit. Renowned ladies' man. Prince o' Thieves. King of Hearts.

"D'accord." He forced his usual casualness and ease to return, then got up. When she didn't take his offered hand, he only shrugged and turned to leave.

To Rogue's surprise - and satisfaction - it stopped. He stopped. His lame-o lines ceased. His always trying to get close to her ceased. Seems he finally got the point that she wasn't interested and moved on to Betsy. Good. Rogue was relieved. It was quiet without his constant yapping. It was peaceful without his popping up everywhere she was. She should be happy, she was. Except, she wasn't.

How many times had she shooed him from her table - whether it was lunch or dinner, he never managed to make it down to breakfast - but he only smiled at her and continued sitting and eating at her side. But now, he was with Besty or Storm, or anyone that wasn't her and Rogue couldn't help the frown that made it's way to her face.

She stood to toss her untouched food.

"Hey, where you going?" Kitty asked, but Rogue left without a reply.

"What's with her?" Jubilee said, biting her apple.

Kitty shrugged, then looked around the room. She caught sight of Remy's concerned expression. It quickly morphed into his charming smirk. He winked at her, then turned to Betsy. Kitty narrowed her eyes at him waiting for him to look up again. He never did and Kitty turned to Jubilee once more.

"I don't know," she replied, "But something's going on. Everyone's acting weird." Kitty planned on finding out what exactly was going on at Xavier's.

Meanwhile, Rogue was out in the hallway, leaning back against the wall. She was being ridiculous. So he didn't sit with her. Again. It's not like they were friends or anything. He was a flirt and got tired of her not flirting back. That was all there was to it. Besides, she got what she wanted, right? So...why was it bothering her so?


Rogue made it clear, practically said she didn't want him around, didn't particularly enjoy his company, and wanted as little to do with him as possible. Remy didn't understand, all the filles liked him. Something was wrong with the southern belle and it had little to do with him. He was close to labeling her a lost cause when he noticed something: the side-glances and the half-lidded lingering looks he caught her giving him.

It intrigued him that she said things so vehemently, while her body contradicted in quiet, almost imperceptible ways. Sure, she tried to keep him at a distance and sassed him like no one had in years, but her ears perked up whenever he spoke, especially to a femme. There was an ever present soft flush to her cheeks when he was near her. And, on more than one occasion, he overheard her ask Logan what else the gruff Canadian knew about him.

It wasn't a lost cause, he decided. It wasn't a lost cause at all. He dropped the stub of his cigarette on the ground, crushed it under the heel of his boot, and returned indoors. He simply had to try a different approach with her. And judging by her reaction to his not sitting at her table for the second day in a row, he was on the right track.

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LOL This is so perfect. And true!

Yay! Glad you think so! XD

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